work_237ghyza4bf7hoowtho736mxc4	----	Belgrade Philosophical Annual 2017-30.indd Russell B. Goodman Original Scientific Paper Department of Philosophy UDK 165 Витгенштајн Л. The University of New Mexico 165.741 WITTGENSTEIN AND PRAGMATISM REVISITED Abstract. I’ve been teaching Wittgenstein’s On Certainty lately, and coming again to the question of Wittgenstein’s relation to pragmatism.1 This is of course a question Wittgenstein raises himself when he writes in the middle of that work: ‘So I am trying to say something that sounds like pragmatism’.2 He adds to this sentence the claim that ‘Here I am being thwarted by a kind of Weltanschauung’, but in the remarks to follow I want to focus not on Wittgenstein’s differences from or antipathy to pragmatism, nor on the world view that he felt thwarted him, but on those elements of his philosophy that sound like pragmatism—as he says. I will work primarily from On Certainty but also from the Philosophical Investigations, which intersects with that late, unfinished work at various places, and which also, at times, sounds like pragmatism. 1. Certainty and Life When I was in China recently trying to explain On Certainty to a class of undergraduates, most of whom had never studied philosophy before, I found myself walking up and down the center aisle of the classroom—as I might normally do when I lecture—but this time as an example of an ability that I rely on in my ordinary life. After walking awhile and reminding the students that I rely on the floor continuing to support me, and on my legs supporting and propelling me as I walk, I turned back towards the front of the room and took my seat. The chair did not surprise me; it supported my weight. I pointed out that I could get up from the chair, sit down again, and it would support me again. What a great world! I trust the world, and trusting works for me and the other animals on the planet. Yes, I might slip on a wet spot as I walk, or sit down hard on a chair which creaks or cracks, but these are exceptions that prove the rule. I do not trust the slippery rocks of a fast flowing river that I walk on while fly fishing; but I trust the ground, normally. You can tell my certainty or lack of it by the way I walk in each case. ‘Don’t ask what goes on in us when we are certain,’ Wittgenstein counsels in the Investigations, but rather consider how the certainty is ‘manifested in people’s actions.’3 This 1 See Russell B. Goodman, Wittgenstein and William James. 2 Ludwig Wittgenstein, On Certainty (OC), 422. 3 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (PI) 2:339. Belgrade Philosophical Annual 30 2017 DOI 10.5937/BPA1730195G 196 Russell B. Goodman manifestation in ‘people’s actions’ is a link to pragmatism, a philosophy that William James tells us is based on the Greek word for action. Early in On Certainty Wittgenstein writes: ‘My life shows that I know or am certain that there is a chair over there, or a door, and so on.’4 I show my certainty that there is a chair there by sitting in it, or moving it aside. I show my certainty that I am writing English by effortlessly typing this sentence as I think it. Wittgenstein’s term ‘comfortable certainty’ applies to these cases. Rather than an example of ‘hastiness or superficiality,’ comfortable certainty, he writes, is ‘a form of life.’5 Such forms of human life, Wittgenstein suggests, are ‘the given’— as fundamental as anything we might find that could ground or support them: ‘What has to be accepted, the given, is —one might say — forms of life.’6 In the Investigations Wittgenstein considers what he calls our natural history: ‘Giving orders, asking questions, telling stories, having a chat, are as much a part of our natural history as walking, eating, drinking, playing.’7 I’ve been attending to the certainty that pervades the parts of our natural history called walking and sitting. These are interesting cases because they differ from many of the examples Wittgenstein talks about in On Certainty, which are framed in terms of propositions—such as that the world has existed for many years before I was born, or that my name is Russell Goodman. Walking and sitting are not propositions but things we do. (Of course using language is also something we do.) Walking and sitting may nevertheless be normative, in the sense that one can do them well or properly, or not. But like all the features of our human form of life that Wittgenstein mentions, they reveal a vast, deep level of certainty. 2. Certainty and Belief Much of the work of On Certainty lies in drawing our attention to the certainty of our ordinary beliefs, some quite particular, some general, as if to remind us of something we forget when we do philosophy. For example: For months I have lived at address A, I have read the name of the street and the number of the house countless times, have received countless letters here and given countless people the address. If I am wrong about it, the mistake is hardly less than if I were (wrongly) to believe I was writing Chinese.8 4 OC, 7. 5 OC, 357, 8. 6 PI 2:345. For recent discussions of this concept see Anna Boncompagni, ‘From the Ground to the Background. Form of Life as ‘the given’ in Wittgenstein’; and her Wittgenstein and Pragmatism. 7 PI, 25. 8 OC, 70. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 197 Or again: I am in England—Everything around me tells me so; wherever and however I let my thoughts turn, they confirm this for me at once. – But might I not be shaken if things such as I don’t dream of at present were to happen?9 This second quotation is the one that triggers Wittgenstein’s claim that he is saying something that sounds like pragmatism. So the pragmatism that sounds like his philosophy is a pragmatism that displays the authority of ordinary human life. In the above passages, Wittgenstein tries to show us that there is no room for radical skepticism in our lives. There is room, of course, for doubt about real problems (where did I leave my wallet?) and for investigations that overcome particular doubts. But these investigations take place against the background of the certainties to which Wittgenstein draws our attention. Now the distinction between real doubt and the artificial doubt of philosophers like Descartes is central to Charles Sanders Peirce’s pragmatism, as developed in his foundational pragmatist paper, ‘The Fixation of Belief.’ Peirce writes: Some philosophers have imagined that to start an inquiry it was only necessary to utter a question or set it down upon paper, and have even recommended us to begin our studies with questioning everything! But the mere putting of a proposition into the interrogative form does not stimulate the mind to any struggle after belief. There must be a real and living doubt, and without this all discussion is idle.10 Real and living doubt includes many things, from the question of where I left my house keys last night, to the issue of how to reverse global warming. But it does not include the question of whether I’m now writing in English, or whether the world has existed for more than the past five minutes. Wittgenstein points to the ways in which human life proceeds without artificial or ‘absolute’ certainty. ‘My life,’ he writes, ‘consists in my being content to accept many things.’11 Peirce makes a similar point about logic, demonstration, and inquiry: It is a very common idea that a demonstration must rest on some ulti- mate and absolutely indubitable propositions. These, according to one school, are first principles of a general nature; according to another, are first sensations. But, in point of fact, an inquiry, to have that completely satisfactory result called demonstration, has only to start 9 OC, 241 10 Charles Sanders Peirce, ‘The Fixation of Belief,’ 115. 11 OC, 344. 198 Russell B. Goodman with propositions perfectly free from all actual doubt. If the premises are not in fact doubted at all, they cannot be more satisfactory than they are.12 If I were not content to accept many things I would have a very different and stressful life, perhaps an impossible life. (Could I sincerely doubt, at every moment, that the ground might give way, etc.?) Given the way nature is, including me as a part of nature, it works, it proves satisfactory, to accept these things. Wittgenstein reminds us, however, that: ‘It is always by favor of Nature that one knows something.’13 We learn to rely on Nature’s favor as part of learning to inherit a picture of the world. 3. James on Common Sense William James has his own way of legitimating ordinary life in Pragmatism’s fifth chapter, ‘Pragmatism and Common Sense.’ ‘Common sense’ is his term for a set of ‘fundamental ways of thinking’ that constitute ‘one great stage of equilibrium in the human mind’s development.’ Two later stages of thinking and acting, science and philosophy, ‘have grafted themselves upon this stage, but have never succeeded in displacing it.’14 James’s account is in terms of concepts or categories, and has both a Kantian and a pragmatic ring to it: ‘All our conceptions are what the Germans call Denkmittel, means by which we handle facts by thinking them. Experience merely as such doesn’t come ticketed and labelled .... Kant speaks of it as being ... a mere motley which we have to unify by our wits.’15 The ‘old common-sense way’ of rationalizing or unifying the manifold of experience is through a set of concepts that James lists as follows: Thing; The same or different Kinds; Minds; Bodies; One Time One Space; Subjects and Attributes; Causal Influences; 12 Peirce, 115. 13 OC, 505. 14 James, Writings 1902–1910, 560. Cf. Wittgenstein: ‘When I talk about language (word, sentence, etc.) I must speak the language of every day. … In giving explanations, I already have to use language full-blown (not some sort of preparatory, provisional one); (PI, 120). 15 James, 561. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 199 The fancied; The real.16 This open-ended list of common sense categories (which owes much to Kant, as James concedes17) represents our ancient, basic understanding of, and commerce with, the world. We learn to ‘rationalize’ a world of constant change, by such terms as night and day, weather, and seasons. It has become natural for us to think in these terms, so that we forget that they were actually discovered or invented by people —‘prehistoric geniuses’ James calls them, ‘whose names the night of antiquity has covered up.’ These concepts first fit only ‘the immediate facts of experience.’ But they ‘spread ... from fact to fact and man to man... until all language rests on them and we are now incapable of thinking naturally in any other terms.’18 These comfortable common sense certainties, inextricable elements of our lives, become a kind of second nature that we use even as we challenge common sense through science and philosophy. ‘Common sense,’ James concludes, ‘is better for one sphere of life, science for another, philosophic criticism for a third; but whether either be truer absolutely Heaven only knows.’19 4. Action and Movement James tells us that the term pragmatism comes from the Greek pragma, ‘meaning action, from which our words “practice” and “practical” come.’20 The idea of action figures most clearly in the criterion of meaning that James inherits from Peirce, where the clarification of a thought’s meaning is said to require consideration of the ‘conceivable effects of a practical kind the object may involve, ... and what reactions we must prepare.’21 In setting out James’s views about common sense I’ve had little to say about action specifically because James himself says little about it when discussing common sense. But the value of the categories of common sense, science, and philosophy comes, in great part, from their ability to guide our actions, to allow us to move ‘prosperously’ from one part of our experience to another, as James thinks of it. This is the territory James explores in his ‘theory of truth,’ both in the second chapter of Pragmatism, ‘What Pragmatism Means,’ and in the entire fifth chapter, entitled, ‘Pragmatism’s Theory of Truth.’ This is an immensely complicated subject of course, but I touch on it here because I find it most helpful to think of James’s remarks about truth not as a definition of truth 16 James, 561–2. 17 James, 561, 595. 18 James, 566. 19 James, 569. 20 James, 506. 21 James, 506–7. 200 Russell B. Goodman (e. g. ‘truth is what works’), but as a phenomenology of truth, or simply an account of the role truth plays in our lives. Thinking of truth this way allows us to see more clearly the parallels between James’s common sense truths and Wittgensteinian framework or ‘hinge’ propositions. Truth, James writes, is a species of good, like health and wealth. Its particular form of goodness lies in ‘providing conceptual short-cuts’22 (as with the terms weather and seasons, discussed above), enabling us to move through the world with ‘a minimum of jolt.’23 ‘Any idea on which we can ride,’ James writes, ‘any idea that will carry us prosperously from any one part of our experience to any other part, linking things satisfactorily, working securely, simplifying, saving labor; is true for just so much, true in so far forth, true instrumentally.’24 In a revealing metaphorical congruence, Wittgenstein also portrays us as riding our beliefs when he wonders, late in On Certainty, whether he might be able to ‘stay in the saddle however much the facts bucked.’ He is thinking of such facts as that water boils rather than freezes, or that someone he has known for years is N. N. Perhaps, he surmises, ‘if I were contradicted on all sides and told that this person’s name was not what I had always known it was (and I use “know” here intentionally), then in that case the foundation of all judging would be taken away from me.’25 A few paragraphs later he considers ‘an irregularity in natural events’ (like objects randomly disappearing and reappearing or water turning to ice when one puts it on a hot stove). Such an irregularity, he writes, ‘wouldn’t have to throw me out of the saddle,’26 but it might ‘put me into a position in which I could not go on with the old language-game any further. In which I was torn away from the sureness of the game.’27 Wittgenstein’s main point here is that the possibility of a language-game is conditioned by certain facts,’28 but I want to emphasize his portrayal of our language as ‘good for conveyance,’ to use Emerson’s phrase. If the facts buck too much, one may not be able to travel at all; one would be plunged ‘into chaos.’29 The idea of movement or transportation also figures in Wittgenstein’s metaphor of the river and its banks. The banks are relatively but not absolutely stable, composed both of sand and of hard rock. They provide the channel or channels through which the waters move. ‘I distinguish,’ Wittgenstein writes, 22 James, 512. 23 James, 513. 24 James, 512. Cf. Emerson’s idea that: ‘All language is vehicular and transitive, and is good, as horses and ferries are, for conveyance, not, as farms as houses are, for homestead.’ (‘The Poet,’ in Collected Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 3:20.) 25 OC, 614. 26 OC, 619. 27 OC, 617. 28 OC, 617. 29 OC, 613. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 201 ‘between the movement of the waters on the river-bed and the shift of the bed itself; though there is not a sharp division of the one from the other.’30 One might construe the movement of the waters as parallel to James’s ‘motley’ or everlasting weather of experience, constrained and guided by the categories/ banks of the river. Or taking a more nuanced view, we may see the moving waters as themselves part of the foundation. The waters would then represent propositions such as ‘I am N. N.’ or ‘I am in England,’ with the banks of the river constituted by the more enduring propositions that form our picture of the world (e. g., ‘the world has existed for more than five minutes’).31 Yet again, keeping in mind that the foundations may not be propositional so much as active, one might construe the waters as the human form of life, our commerce with each other and the world, within the enduring but not eternal context of our picture of the world.32 In this case too, the ‘foundations’ would be both the flowing waters and the enduring banks. As Joachim Schulte puts the point: ‘The river-bed, that section of the whole which stands fast, does part—but only part—of the work while the river itself with its mobile waters does another, and surely not less important, part of the job.’33 Wittgenstein’s picture of language in the Investigations, starting with his simple ‘builders’ game introduced in its second paragraph, brings language into prominence as a set of activities, such as ‘reporting an event,’ ‘giving orders,’ ‘acting in a play,’ telling a joke, ‘requesting, thanking, cursing,’ and ‘countless’ others. The term language-game, he explains, serves ‘to emphasize the fact that the speaking of language is part of an activity, or of a form of life.’ In On Certainty, as we have seen, what we do, our actions and deeds—not random but ordered by our language games and our picture of the world— are the foundation of our system of belief. ‘Giving grounds,’ Wittgenstein writes, ‘justifying the evidence, comes to an end;—but the end is not certain propositions’ striking us immediately as true, i.e. it is not a kind of seeing on our part; it is our acting, which lies at the bottom of the language-game.’34 5. Anti-intellectualism James writes that pragmatism is ‘anti-intellectualistic,’ by which he means that pragmatism is broadly empiricist, turning away from ‘bad a priori reasons, 30 OC, 97. 31 As suggested by Joachim Schulte, ‘Within a System,’ 64 ff. 32 Cf. Schulte, 67. 33 Schulte, 66. 34 OC, 204. Cf. OC, 402, where Wittgenstein quotes Goethe’s Faust: “In the beginning was the deed.” Our acting is fundamental, but it is interwoven with our beliefs and concepts, so that, as Wittgenstein also writes, “one might almost say that these foundation-walls are carried by the whole house” (OC, 248). 202 Russell B. Goodman from fixed principles, closed systems, and pretended absolutes and origins.’35 Among these pretended absolutes and origins are the seeming ‘magic’ of language and theory. For the pragmatist, James explains: ‘Theories become instruments, not answers to enigmas, in which we can rest.’36 Three years after James published Pragmatism in 1907, John Dewey published a paper called ‘Some Implications of Anti-Intellectualism,’ where he presents a positive picture of such a view. He writes of a ‘pragmatic anti-intellectualism that starts from acts, functions, as primary data, functions both biological and social in character,’ and which objects to the ‘false abstraction of knowledge and the logical from its working context.’37 Although Wittgenstein never expressed any appreciation for Dewey, this is a reasonable description of a main current in Wittgenstein’s later philosophy. Dewey’s ‘functions both biological and social,’ for example, map onto what Cavell calls the biological or vertical (dogs, lions, flies, human beings) and the social or horizontal (stating, asking, praying, singing) dimensions of the human form of life. Cavell writes that ‘the typical emphasis on the social eclipses the twin preoccupation of the Investigations, call this the natural, in the form of ‘natural reactions’ (185) ... or ‘the common behavior of mankind’ (206). The partial eclipse of the natural makes the teaching of the Investigations much too, let me say, conventionalist....’38 This idea of ‘starting from acts, functions, as primary data,’ to use Dewey’s words, is the point at which people have seen a connection between Wittgenstein and Heidegger, who writes in Being and Time: Interpretation is carried out primordially not in a theoretical statement but in an action of circumspective concern—laying aside an unsuitable tool, or exchanging it, ‘without wasting words.’ From the fact that words are absent, it may not be concluded that interpretation is absent.39 We interpret the world through our actions. The child learns what an object is on the way to language, as it manipulates objects. These practical activities lie at the basis of the human form of life, including human language, according to Dewey, Wittgenstein, and Heidegger; and for their contemporary inheritor Robert Brandom.40 Although James introduces the term anti-intellectualism to describe his own pragmatic outlook, in his account of that deep layer of thought he calls 35 James, 509. 36 James, 509–10. 37 John Dewey, ‘Some Implications of Anti-Intellectualism,’ 479. 38 Stanley Cavell, ‘Declining Decline: Wittgenstein as a Philosopher of Culture,’ 41. 39 Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, 200. 40 See Robert Brandom, ‘Heidegger’s Categories in Being and Time,’ where he writes: ‘The inhabitant of a Heideggerian world is aware of it as composed of significant equipment, caught up in various social practices, and classified by the involvements those practices institute’ (307–8). Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 203 common sense he is more intellectualistic—more Kantian, more rationalist— than the three writers mentioned above. That’s because he thinks of that common sense layer always in terms of categories or concepts, and hardly at all explicitly in terms of actions that are the basis for these categories. So in this respect, Wittgenstein, Dewey, and Heidegger are more thoroughly pragmatic than James! 6. Decentering Knowledge Modern philosophy, as understood in America and Britain, centers on problems of knowledge, and especially, in Dewey’s apt phrase, on a ‘quest for certainty.’41 The pragmatists displace a conception of knowledge based on certainty from the center of concern. The empirical sciences, which give us reliable results but not certainty, are crucial for the pragmatists James and Peirce, who both studied at the Lawrence Scientific School at Harvard (Peirce was awarded a B. S. in chemistry in 1863, James continued his studies at the medical school and received his M. D. in 1869). Rather than thinking of science, or any other subject, as aiming at a fixed, perfect system, they focus on human beings as inquirers, seeking beliefs that guide us through life. Thus in Peirce’s great originating paper on ‘The Fixation of Belief,’ he writes: ‘The irritation of doubt causes a struggle to attain a state of belief. I shall term this struggle inquiry ...’42 Peirce then discusses various ways of fixing beliefs, arguing that experimental, fallibilistic science is the only method that does not call itself into question. Likewise, James speaks in Pragmatism of successful ‘ways of thinking,’ ‘conceptual systems,’ ‘types of thought,’ ‘types of thinking,’ and he holds, in true fallibilist fashion, that these ‘are all but ways of talking on our part, to be compared solely from the point of view of their use.’43 ‘Knowledge,’ the center of interest in works from Descartes’s Meditations on First Philosophy to Russell’s Foundations of Empirical Know- ledge, does not appear in these discussions. What does appear is a deep layer of common sense and practical coping, and the evolving structures of science and philosophy that result from those transactions with the world the pragmatists call inquiry. Wittgenstein graduated in 1908 from the Technische Hochschule in Berlin, and first came to England in 1911 to study aeronautical engineering at the University of Manchester. But in contrast to James and Dewey, he sharply separates philosophy from science—in both his early and later writing. Yet like the pragmatists, he is suspicious of the emphasis philosophers place on 41 John Dewey, The Quest for Certainty. 42 Peirce, ‘The Fixation of Belief,’ 114. 43 James, 560, 561, 568, 569, 570. 204 Russell B. Goodman the concept of knowledge: ‘We just do not see how very specialized the use of “I know” is.’44 Is knowledge not nevertheless the basis for our other beliefs? Wittgenstein’s answer is no: ‘Why,’ he asks, ‘should the language game rest on some kind of knowledge?’45 He tells us in the Investigations that he is ‘talking about the spatial and temporal phenomenon of language, not about some non-spatial, atemporal non-entity.’46 When we ‘look and see’ how we actually use our language, as he frequently enjoins us to do, we see the degree to which philosophers engage in what Dewey calls ‘false abstraction’ from the ‘working context.’ Wittgenstein’s term for this abstraction is language ‘on holiday,’47 and his call for a return to ordinary language is a call for an understanding of language at work. 7. History We have seen that for James our concepts are ‘discoveries of prehistoric geniuses,’ and that even in advanced science and mathematics, there are conceptual revolutions and a plurality of plausible formulations and explanations. Nevertheless, James holds that we are conservatives about the older beliefs that have worked well for us in the past: ‘The most violent revolutions in an individual’s beliefs leave most of his old order standing. Time and space, cause and effect, nature and history, and one’s own biography remain untouched.’48 Still, no belief is absolutely fixed, these revolutions do occur, and there are gentler changes in language and belief. Wittgenstein also offers historicized pictures of language and certainty in his later work, in sharp contrast with his approach in the Tractatus, where a set of ‘unalterable and subsistent’49 objects are the ground of meaning. In the Investigations he portrays language as a city: ‘Our language can be regarded as an ancient city: a maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, of houses with extensions from various periods, and all this surrounded by a multitude of new suburbs with straight and regular streets and squares.’50 Cities are stable but also in flux, with neighborhoods that last for centuries, others that are transformed or destroyed, and the ‘new suburbs’ to which Wittgenstein refers. They fit the natural landscape even as they express human desires and customs. 44 OC, 11. 45 OC, 477. 46 PI, 108. 47 PI, 38. 48 James, 513. 49 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, 2.0271. 50 PI, 18. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 205 In On Certainty Wittgenstein uses the metaphor of the river and its banks to represent our historically evolving beliefs: It might be imagined that some propositions, of the form of empirical propositions, were hardened and functioned as channels for such empirical propositions as were not hardened but fluid; and that this relation altered with time, in that fluid propositions hardened, and hard ones became fluid.51 I distinguish between the movements of the waters on the river- bed and the shift of the bed itself; though there is not a sharp division of the one from the other.52 Like James, Wittgenstein offers an account of these propositions not in terms of the objects or situations that they represent, but in terms of their functions in guiding our life and thought. The moving waters of the river take us places, and we move smoothly if we keep track of where the banks and shallows are. 8. Holism Wittgenstein writes that we inherit a picture of the world that includes such grand ideas as that there is a past and a future, and such quotidian beliefs as that my name is N. N. or that I haven’t been to the moon. ‘I did not get my picture of the world by satisfying myself of its correctness,’ he writes, ‘nor do I have it because I am satisfied of its correctness. No: it is the inherited background against which I distinguish between true and false.’53 Wittgenstein speaks of a ‘picture’ and a ‘background’ in the sentence above; and a few paragraphs later speaks of a ‘system’: All testing, all confirmation and disconfirmation of a hypothesis takes place already within a system. And this system is not a more or less arbitrary and doubtful point of departure for all our arguments; no, it belongs to the essence of what we call an argument. The system is not so much the point of departure, as the element in which arguments have their life.’54 Suppose, Wittgenstein imagines, someone says that people routinely go to the moon, though he doesn’t know how. This person says: ‘those who get there know at once that they are there; and even you can’t explain everything.’ But how does this fit in with the other things we know? ‘[O]ur whole system 51 OC, 96. 52 OC, 97. 53 OC, 94. 54 OC 105. 206 Russell B. Goodman of physics demands answers to the questions “How did he overcome the force of gravity?” “How could he live without an atmosphere?” and a thousand others which could not be answered.’ We can’t refute someone who persists in maintaining that these things routinely happen, but ‘we should feel ourselves intellectually very distant from someone who said this.’55 And it is a fact that most people don’t believe this, though the capacity of human beings for believing systems of false beliefs is perhaps greater than Wittgenstein registers in his book. James also thinks we inhabit a system of beliefs, with a core, ancient ‘stock’ that has proved itself so well that we are reluctant to give it up. He writes that ‘by far the most usual way of handling phenomena so novel that they would make for a serious rearrangement of our preconceptions is to ignore them altogether, or to abuse those who bear witness for them.’56 If enough contrary evidence or a new way of looking at things comes along, we may make a serious rearrangement of our beliefs—as we have, James observes, in accepting non-Euclidean geometry.57 On a less global scale, but equally showing the way our beliefs are related to one another, James constructs this example: ‘If I should now utter piercing shrieks and act like a maniac on this platform, it would make many of you revise your ideas as to the probable worth of my philosophy.’58 We are ‘extreme conservatives’ in matters of belief, though, ‘stretching them just enough to make them admit the novelty, but conceiving that in ways as familiar as the case leaves possible.’59 9. Skepticism Skepticism is a powerful influence, even if subject to attack, throughout Wittgenstein’s philosophy. When we encountered Peirce’s dismissal of radical, Cartesian skepticism and his contrasting, pragmatic notion of ‘real doubt’ in section 2 above, my point was that Wittgenstein does not seek absolute certainty any more than the pragmatists do. But there is nevertheless a big difference here in that Wittgenstein is haunted by skepticism. He inscribes his battles with skepticism, including powerful statements of the skeptical voice (what Cavell calls ‘the voice of temptation’) within On Certainty and the Investigations, as if skepticism can never fully be dismissed. To read Wittgenstein is to seriously grapple with skepticism. To read the pragmatists is to consider writers who avoid, evade, or simply do not feel skepticism’s pull. Once Peirce makes his point about real 55 OC, 108. 56 James, 513. 57 James, 511. 58 James, 514. 59 James, 513. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 207 (experimental) vs. artificial (Cartesian) doubt, he is untroubled thereafter by the threat of radical skepticism. He just proceeds with his theory of inquiry, his account of significance, and myriad other projects. And while William James attacks rationalist system builders for their isolation from real life, he ignores the threat of radical skepticism entirely in Pragmatism. His tone is so cheerful: pragmatism will get so many things done! I think this cheerful tone and confident expectation of continuing progress is part of the Weltanschauung which Wittgenstein felt was thwarting him. Yet there is a deep appreciation of a kind of skepticism in the book of James that Wittgenstein loved: Varieties of Religious Experience. Here I’m thinking along with Cavell about skepticism as a lived condition, something one finds depicted in Othello and King Lear, in Coleridge’s Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and in Thoreau’s observation in Walden that most people lead ‘lives of quiet desperation.’60 James’s depictions of the ‘sick soul,’ of ‘conversion’ and the ‘twice-born’ in Varieties show human life in periods of despair and deep uncertainty; and then, sometimes, in a recovery in which ‘the sufferer, when saved, is saved by what seems to him a second birth, a deeper kind of conscious being than he could enjoy before.’61 ‘The normal process of life,’ James observes, ‘contains moments as bad as any of those which insane melancholy is filled with, moments in which radical evil gets its innings and takes its solid turn.’62 This is skepticism not as a philosophical method, but as an outlook on life, one that, James argues, yields a more complete picture of the world than the sunny disposition of the ‘once born.’ James’s heroes John Bunyan and Leo Tolstoy share this more complete, ‘twice-born’ view. 10. An Argument Wittgenstein says in the Investigations that he does not seek anything scientific in philosophy, that he does not seek theories or explanations, but rather ‘description alone.’63 His simple invented language games, for example, are ‘not preliminary studies for a future regimentation of language,’ but rather, ‘objects of comparison which, through similarities and dissimilarities are meant to throw light on features of our language.’64 One may also say of the arguments appearing in the Investigations, that they are in service not to the construction of some new system of language or knowledge, but to the ‘description’ or overview of the language we already live in, often by 60 Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason: Wittgenstein, Skepticism, Morality, and Tragedy and In Quest of the Ordinary: Lines of Skepticism and Romanticism. 61 James, 146. 62 James, 152. 63 PI, 109. 64 PI, 130. 208 Russell B. Goodman destroying the philosophical theories that prevent us from properly taking it in. The most famous of these Wittgensteinian arguments is the so-called ‘private language argument’ that appears first at PI 202, and then at PI 243 ff. On Certainty has its own set of powerful anti-skeptical arguments. Here are some examples: If you are not certain of any fact, you cannot be certain of the meaning of your words either.65 If you tried to doubt everything you would not get as far as doubting anything. The game of doubting itself presupposes certainty.66 The argument ‘I may be dreaming’ is senseless for this reason: if I am dreaming, this remark is being dreamed as well—and indeed it is also being dreamed that these words have any meaning.67 James doesn’t produce anything like these arguments, nor does he seem especially motivated to in Pragmatism’s sanguine accounts of truth, religion, and temperament. However, Peirce does produce a similar argument in the ‘The Fixation of Belief,’ where he writes of Descartes: ‘The distinction between an idea seeming clear and really being so, never occurred to him.’ This is a criticism based not on Descartes’s (unnoticed and unjustified) certainty about the meaning of his words (as in On Certainty), but on his (unnoticed and unjustified) certainty about what he thinks of as the clarity of his ideas. In these lines of argument Peirce and Wittgenstein share a focus on whether we can be sure about what we are thinking when we pursue the project of radical doubt, and hence whether the project can even proceed.68 11. Conclusion: The Weltanschauung I have touched on some places in Wittgenstein’s writings that sound like pragmatism. In conclusion I’d like to attend to one difference that might help us understand what Wittgenstein means when he says that he is being thwarted by some sort of Weltanschauung or world view. What is this world view and in what way does it thwart him? We find it expressed, I suggest,69 in the sketch of a Foreword that Wittgenstein composed in 1930 for a book he envisioned calling Philosophical Remarks: 65 OC, 114. 66 OC, 115. 67 OC, 383. 68 See the discussion of these arguments in Andy Hamilton, Routledge Philosophy Guidebook to Wittgenstein and On Certainty; and compare Jacques Derrida, ‘Cogito and the History of Madness.’ For Wittgenstein’s relation to Peirce and Frank Ramsey see Cheryl Misak, Cambridge Pragmatism: From Peirce and James to Ramsey and Wittgenstein. 69 Cf. my Wittgenstein and William James, 167 ff. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 209 This book is written for those who are in sympathy with the spirit in which it is written. This is not, I believe, the spirit of the main current of European and American civilization. The spirit of this civilization makes itself manifest in the industry, architecture and music of our time, in its fascism and socialism, and it is alien and uncongenial to the author. ... Our civilization is characterized by the word ‘progress.’ Progress is its form rather than making progress being one of its features. Typically it constructs. It is occupied with building an ever more complicated structure. ... I am not interested in constructing a building, so much as in having a perspicuous view of the foundations of possible buildings. ... I might say: if the place I want to get to could only be reached by way of a ladder, I would give up trying to get there. For the place I really have to get to is a place I must already be at now.70 I know that these remarks, from 1930, are as much in the spirit of Wittgenstein’s Tractarian philosophy as they are in that of his later philosophy, where his anxieties about his relation to pragmatism show up. But I still think that they represent a main current in his later thought. My purpose here in quoting these remarks is to see what the ‘Weltanschauung’ might be which thwarts Wittgenstein. Let’s recall, listen again, to a short passage from James’s Pragmatism: Any idea on which we can ride, any idea that will carry us prosperously from any one part of our experience to any other part, linking things satisfactorily, working securely, simplifying, saving labor; is true for just so much, true in so far forth, true instrumentally.’71 I imagine Wittgenstein reading this passage (there’s no evidence that he did) and thinking: ‘this sounds like an advertisement for an automobile or a washing machine. It shows the naive optimism of an American who is misled by a fraudulent or superficial form of progress.’ I don’t say this would be fair to James but only that this passage can be heard as expressing the sort of vision and tone that Wittgenstein disliked, and that he rightly associated with some forms of pragmatism. It’s the sort of passage, I suppose, that Professor Anscombe had in mind when she told me that she was sure both that Wittgenstein hadn’t read Pragmatism and that if he had, he would have hated it.72 70 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Culture and Value, 6–7. 71 James, 512. 72 Goodman, Wittgenstein and William James, ix. Nevertheless, James discusses pragmatism in the ‘Philosophy’ chapter of Varieties of Religious Experience, and there are elements of pragmatism in The Principles of Psychology (Wittgenstein and William James, 151–4, 18–19, 148–9). For Wittgenstein’s encounter with pragmatism through Bertrand Russell and G. E. Moore, see Wittgenstein and William James, 12–16. 210 Russell B. Goodman Wittgenstein might not have liked that book very much, but I think he was right to sense deep affinities and compatibilities between his work and that of the pragmatists. Potent blendings of these streams of philosophy can be seen in the writing of the most prominent and influential pragmatist philosophers of our era: Richard Rorty, Hilary Putnam, and Robert Brandom. References Boncompagni, Anna (2011). ‘From the Ground to the Background. Form of life as ‘the given’ in Wittgenstein,’ in Logic and Philosophy of Science Vol. IX, No. 1, 2011, 451–460. Boncompagni, Anna (2016). Wittgenstein and Pragmatism: On Certainty in the Light of Peirce and James. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Brandom, Robert (2002). ‘Heidegger’s Categories in Being and Time,’ in Tales of the Mighty Dead. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 298–323. (Originally published in The Monist 66 (3):387–409 (1983)). Cavell, Stanley (1979). The Claim of Reason: Wittgenstein, Skepticism, Morality, and Tragedy. New York: Oxford University Press. Cavell, Stanley (1988). In Quest of the Ordinary: Lines of Skepticism and Romanticism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Cavell, Stanley (1989). ‘Declining Decline: Wittgenstein as a Philosopher of Culture,’ in This New Yet Unapproachable America. Albuquerque NM: Living Batch Press, 29–75. Derrida, Jacques (1978). ‘Cogito and the History of Madness,’ in Writing and Difference. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 31–63. Dewey, John (1910). ‘Some Implications of Anti-Intellectualism,’ Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific Methods, vol. 7, no. 18, 477–81. Dewey, John (1929). The Quest for Certainty. New York: Minton, Balch & Company. Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1971–2013). Collected Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 10. vols. Ed. Robert Spiller, Alfred R. Ferguson, et. al. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Goodman, Russell B. (2002). Wittgenstein and William James. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hamilton, Andy (2014). Routledge Philosophy Guidebook to Wittgenstein and On Certainty. Oxford and New York: Routledge. Heidegger, Martin (1967). Being and Time, John Macquarie and Edward Robinson, trans. Oxford. Basil Blackwell. Wittgenstein and Pragmatism Revisited 211 James, William (1987). Writings 1902–1910. New York: Library of America. Misak, Cheryl (2016). Cambridge Pragmatism: From Peirce and James to Ramsey and Wittgenstein. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Moyal-Sharrock, Danièle (2004). Understanding Wittgenstein’s On Certainty. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Moyal-Sharrock, Danièle and William H. Brenner, eds. (2005). Readings of Wittgenstein’s On Certainty. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Peirce, Charles Sanders (1992). ‘The Fixation of Belief,’ in The Essential Peirce, vol. 1. Ed. Nathan Houser and Christian Kloesel. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 109–23. Schulte, Joachim (2005). ‘Within a System,’ in Moyal-Sharrock and Brenner, 59–75. Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1961). Tractatus Logico Philosophicus, trans. D. F. Pears and Brian McGuinness. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1969). On Certainty. G. E. M. Anscombe and G. H. von Wright, eds. trans. Denis Paul and G. E. M. Anscombe. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. [OC]. Wittgenstein, Ludwig (1980) Culture and Value. G. H. von Wright, ed., trans. Peter Winch. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Wittgenstein, Ludwig (2009). Philosophical Investigations, revised 4th edition, P.M.S. Hacker and Joachim Schulte, eds. [PI] 
work_26kepwje2vfbpfrxnhsjoudupq	----	Hard to Reach: Anne Brigman, Mountaineering, and Modernity in California Archived version from NCDOCKS Institutional Repository http://libres.uncg.edu/ir/asu/ Hard To Reach: Anne Brigman, Mountaineering, And Modernity In California By: Heather Waldroup No Abstract Waldroup, Heather (2014). "Hard To Reach: Anne Brigman, Mountaineering And Modernity In California" Modernism/modernity vol. 21 issue 2 pp.447-466. Open Access Journal. Version of Record Available From (www.muse.jhu.edu) Heather Waldroup is Associate Profes- sor of art history and Associate Director of the Honors College at Appalachian State University. Her research on the histories of pho- tography and collecting has been published in Women’s History Review, Journeys, Photography and Culture, and History of Photography. She is currently complet- ing a monograph on American photography and imperialism in the South Pacific. Hard to Reach: Anne Brigman, Mountaineering, and Modernity in California Heather Waldroup Where I go is wild—hard to reach, and I don’t go for Alfred Stieglitz or Frank Crownshield or Camera Work or Vanity Fair, but because there [are] things in life to be expressed in these places. Anne Brigman, 19161 In the spring of 1906, needing a change of scenery after the San Francisco earthquake, photographer Anne Brigman (1869–1950) and several companions made a trip to the Sierra Nevada Mountains.2 For several weeks they camped at an altitude of eight thousand feet, making daily excursions to higher eleva- tions for Brigman to photograph her models in the landscape. She later explained the excursion as follows: With a small group, I went to the northern Sierra to make rough camp, packing [in] by mule. We ate, and slept with the earth in the fullest sense in this glorious grimness. Under these circum- stances, through the following years, . . . I slowly found my power with the camera among the junipers and the tamarack pines of the high, storm-swept altitudes. Compact, squat giants are these trees, shaped by the winds of the centuries like wings and flames and torsolike forms, unbelievably beautiful in their rhythms.3 In subsequent years, during summer trips in the Sierras, often at altitudes above ten thousand feet, Brigman posed her models against ancient, twisted bristlecone pines, sublime vistas, and rock outcrops, manipulating both her negatives and her prints to create grainy, blurred, powerful images. modernism / modernity volume twenty one, number two, pp 447–466. © 2014 johns hopkins university press M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 448 Brigman’s work is visually compelling, and she was well-regarded by many of her contemporaries. She was elected to join Alfred Stieglitz’s photo-Secession group in 1903, and in 1906 she was named a fellow, the first and only on the west coast. Stieglitz remained a friend, correspondent, and supporter for many decades. Brigman’s individual photographs and exhibitions received favorable reviews in Bay Area and national publi- cations, and her work was purchased by art collectors at a time when photography was under-recognized as an art form.4 Brigman received the Grand prize in photography at the 1915 San Francisco panama pacific International exposition,5 and her work has been recognized by contemporary historians of photography, as well. Scholars such as Susan Ehrens and Kathleen pyne have addressed Brigman’s relationship to early twentieth-century spirituality and proto-feminist movements in the Bay Area.6 Overall, Brigman played a significant role in the development of art photography in California. One aspect of her work has yet to be addressed, however: Brigman’s relationship to the history of mountaineering, particularly as it was developing in California in the late-nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Although Brigman herself would more accurately be described as an avid hiker or trekker than a mountaineer, it is noteworthy that her ability to visit the Sierras was facilitated by trail-building projects, byproducts of the expansion of national parks, early conservation movements, and the develop- ment of mountaineering in California, all of which made the area more accessible to visitors. Brigman’s written accounts of her trips to the mountains are also noteworthy, since they recall those of contemporary mountaineers in tone and content. And the landscape Brigman photographed was not a generalized one, but specifically marked as Sierran: bristlecone pines, snow fields, alpine lakes, and rock outcrops all feature significantly in her works. Brigman’s work from the Sierras also underscores the strong connection between two key developments of the modern era, photography and mountaineering. Brigman’s Sierra photography can certainly be considered antimodern in its use of the pictorialist style, and her theme of liberation in nature also drew on contemporary spiritual move- ments and conservationist discourses. T. J. Jackson Lears has described antimodernism at the fin de siècle, especially in its American manifestations, as a rejection of “modern existence [in favor of] more intense forms of physical or spiritual experience.”7 Lynda Jessup has continued this discussion, noting that antimodernism “describes what is in effect a critique of the modern, . . . a longing for the types of physical or spiritual experience embodied in utopian futures and imagined pasts.”8 Certainly Brigman’s forays into the Sierras and the work she created during those journeys articulate with antimodern sentiments. Still, through her use of photography (arguably the key image- making technology of modernity), and through her relationship to mountaineering (a form of recreation rooted in modernity, albeit with an ambivalent relationship to it), Brigman’s Sierra photographs stress the strong interdependency of modernism and antimodernism. A consideration of Brigman’s work, both written and visual, within the history and practice of mountaineering gives new insight into the work of this sig- nificant California photographer, and more broadly, to the many, often contradictory manifestations of modernity at the fin de siècle. Waldroup / hard to reach 449Anne Brigman, Pictorialist Photographer Brigman’s photographic practice began around 1900. While her body of work and the photographers she later influenced are situated historically in the twentieth century, both her personal history and her stylistic roots reach back to the nineteenth. Brigman was born into a missionary family in Hawaii in 1869, and she grew up in Nu’uanu Valley on Oahu. As pyne has written, the landscape and flora of Hawaii no doubt had strong influence on Brigman, and she continued to identify as haole Hawaiian throughout her life and career (pyne, 66). Brigman began Songs of a Pagan, her book of photographs and poems, with the dedication “Lei Aloha”; she often signed her letters “Aloha Nui”; and she wrote to Stieglitz in 1912, “please give my aloha to the friends of 291.”9 With her family, for unknown reasons, Brigman moved to California as a teenager, living first in Los Gatos and later in San Francisco and Oakland. She married a sea captain, Martin Brigman, and for several years traveled the pacific with him (Ehrens, 19). Around 1906, she began the body of work for which she is best known: a series of female nudes taken in the high altitudes of the Sierras. Later in life, she moved to Long Beach, where the focus of her work shifted from mountains to ocean. Brigman’s style engaged with both modern and antimodern ideologies. Her early work drew on pictorialism, a style grounded in nineteenth-century aesthetics. pictorial- ism emerged in Britain in the mid-nineteenth century partially as a response to public debates about the nature of photography as an art form. pictorialist photographers employed soft focus, fine grain, and various techniques for toning. They manipulated both negatives and prints with scratching, blurring, and overpainting. pictorialists printed their works on fine paper, signed them, and exhibited and marketed their works as unique fine-art objects. pictorialism was heavily influenced by nineteenth- century spirituality, including theosophy, anti-industrial sentiments, and symbolism.10 Its relationship to the arts and crafts movement is evident, as well: like the artists and designers of that movement, pictorialist photographers produced carefully crafted, original fine-art objects meant to endow the viewer with a sense of aesthetic harmony.11 American photographers began working in the pictorialist style in the late-nineteenth century. Alfred Stieglitz and the photo-Secession movement became leading proponents on the east coast. Transposed to California, pictorialism was first used in art communi- ties around 1900 in the Bay Area and slightly later in Los Angeles. It became a key style practiced in California photography throughout the 1920s, and it continued into the 1940s. Both the aesthetics and the philosophies of pictorialism intersected well with the California craftsman style practiced in other art forms such as architecture and design, and pictorialism was further influenced by the tonalist movement in American paint- ing (Wilson, 3). As Ehrens explains, Brigman’s work found a natural home in the Bay Area; this artist, who also painted and acted in local theatre productions, “epitomized the staunchly independent, unconventional ‘New Woman,’ and Bay Area bohemian artist” (Ehrens, 20). Brigman’s involvement in the local artistic community included working relationships with other women photographers, including Adelaide Hanscom and Imogen Cunningham, but Brigman’s style seems to be influenced by her broader M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 450 creative interests as much as it is by the work of any other photographer. As Michael Wilson has noted, in spite of drawing on the stylistic aspects of pictorialism, Brigman’s work took these themes in a new direction: “Her pictures are of contemporary women and have a modern feel compared with the anachronistic re-creations of past ages fa- vored by [some] European pictorialists” (Wilson, 15). Brigman herself described her photographic project as “a search for simple loveliness,” a concept very much in line with craftsman philosophies. Brigman’s work was further informed by emerging, radical forms of countercultural spiritual practice in the Bay Area, which drew heavily on the proto-feminist movement and on the writings of early environmentalists such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Walt Whitman. Invested in the concept of spirituality manifested in natural forms, Brigman referred to herself as a “pagan” and saw her photographic practice as an expression of her faith. An exhibition pamphlet from 1909 explained, “The aim of some of these prints is to express in the abstract the solemn majesty of the rocks, the weird trees, the joyous brook, in all of the work to express the spiritual through the material.”12 One work features a “hamadryad,” which Brigman defined as “a wood nymph inseparable from the tree she inhabited.”13 Scholars have also noted the ritualistic nature of her photographs, in which the female body appears to dance in harmony with the wild landscape. pyne argues, “Although she appropriated from her male colleagues the vocabulary of the female nude that made up her images, her female form, with its limbs and torso swaying this way and that, was received as a voice emanating from a woman’s hidden psyche” (pyne, 64). In Brigman’s work, women are active, empowered, and even transformed through their relationship to nature. Brig- man’s unique take on pictorialism enabled her to adapt an international style to her own needs and interests. Mountaineering and Modernity Brigman’s travels in the Sierras were significantly facilitated by the expansion of mountaineering in the western United States at the end of the nineteenth century. Although people have always climbed up, across, and within mountains—to invade and to escape invaders, to hunt and herd animals, and to perform acts of religious faith—mountaineering as a modern concept, one practiced by people of European descent, initially developed out of eighteenth-century romantic notions of nature and the sublime, influenced by the writings of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. As David Levinson and Karen Christiansen explain, mountaineering adventures in the Alps “began to be included in itineraries on the Grand Tour” at the end of the eighteenth century, following the first ascent of Mont Blanc in 1786.14 Similarly, in her intriguing social history of walking, Rebecca Solnit explains that “walking” as a pastime developed in Britain around the turn of the nineteenth century and became a key means for the “expression of the desire for simplicity, purity, and solitude.”15 Modern mountaineering took a recreational turn in the mid-nineteenth century, developing as a “distinct activ- Waldroup / hard to reach 451ity”– that is, climbing for the sake of climbing.16 During this period, mountaineering transformed from an opportunity for the bourgeois subject to experience the sublime to a form of athletic recreation, with a focus on first ascents and with “patriotism, militarism, and Empire” as key themes.17 In 1857, the first alpine club was founded in London, but mountaineering quickly became a global undertaking, with many first ascents outside the Alps occurring at the fin de siècle (Mt. Cook in 1895; Aconcagua in 1897; Mt. McKinley in 1913). As many scholars have noted, mountaineering is closely tied to modernity and to nineteenth-century technologies of leisure.18 peter Hansen has noted that mountain- eering’s heyday in the nineteenth century was a result of the rise of the middle class and its increased interest in outdoor sports, a form of “actively constructed . . . asser- tive masculinity,” although many women were active in mountaineering.19 Ellis has further stressed mountaineering’s neoimperialist aspects.20 In addition, danger and its outcomes—either the triumph over danger or tragedy of succumbing to it—was a key theme in mountaineering. A 1902 edition of Encyclopedia Britannica defines mountaineering as “the art of moving about safely in mountain regions, avoiding the dangers incidental to them and attaining high points difficult of access,” and it notes that dangers to participants include falling rocks, falling from rocks, falling ice, and weather (“being blown from exposed positions to destruction”).21 While it was devel- oping as a form of masculinist adventure, by the late-nineteenth century the global practice of mountaineering was guided by a modern sense of increased movement in the landscape for the purpose of recreation, with danger assuaged by technology, enabling the mountaineer to reach the summit.22 In the U.S., mountaineering as an activity practiced by white settlers parallels and perhaps even predates the development of mountaineering in Europe. (In a catalog of American ascents before 1860, William Bueler begrudgingly acknowledges that there were “Indian ascents” prior to the beginning of Euroamerican mountaineering in the U.S., but he goes on to dismiss these as primarily aimed at a “better survey [of] the terrain,” acts incomparable with the acts of physical sport that characterized Euro- American mountaineering.23) The first Euro-American summit of Mt. Washington, New Hampshire, was recorded in 1642, although other key peaks on the east coast were explored and climbed in the eighteenth century, such as Roan and Grandfather Mountains in North Carolina in 1795.24 The expansion of mountaineering to western states also parallels the territorial expansion of the U.S. nation-state: key fourteeners such as pike’s peak and Mt. Shasta were not successfully climbed by Euro-Americans until the mid-nineteenth century. Mountaineering in the U.S. found its favorite playground in the western states, and the development of western tourism around mountainous national parks such as Yo- semite, Yellowstone, and Glacier certainly suggested the possibility of both leisure and mountaineering for tourists from the east. Marguerite Shaffer’s significant research has demonstrated these close ties between the development of western tourism, post-Civil- War American bourgeois identity, and the virtues of proximity to “unspoiled” nature. She traces the continual development of western tourism in the second half of the M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 452 nineteenth century to the emergence of the U.S. as a modern, industrial nation-state in the post-Civil-War era—“Like brand-name goods, mail-order catalogs, department stores, and mass-circulation magazines, western tourism . . . imbued the emerging nation with form and substance”—and she writes that a “truly national tourism devel- oped” around western natural wonders upon the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869: “In this way tourism reshaped the built environment of the United States and transformed the symbolic value of American landscape and, in the process, influenced the way in which people defined and identified themselves as ‘Americans.’”25 She describes this phenomenon as “national tourism,” a mode of traveling the country that departed significantly from earlier nineteenth-century manifestations of travel and tourism: “National tourism extended from and depended on the infrastructure of the modern nation-state.”26 I would add that the extension of the American frontier to the pacific Ocean in 1848, which made it possible to travel from one North American coast to the other without leaving the U.S., strongly embedded the concept of national tourism in more widespread expressions of American nationalism. The Sierra Nevada, and Yosemite National park in particular, became many things to the U.S., including a locus for the intersection of mountaineering philosophy, rec- reational trail-building, and conservation.27 Trails are vectors of history: hunters, trad- ers, travelers, and pilgrims following similar routes for many centuries inscribe their footsteps into the land, creating paths for later voyagers to follow across plains and over passes. Indeed, the history of trails in the Sierras is deeply tied with the history of California: the land was traversed for millennia by indigenous travelers and trad- ers, who were joined by non-indigenous explorers, fur traders, and later by gold-rush hopefuls. Beginning in the 1860s, mountaineers and explorers such as Josiah Whitney, Clarence King, and John Muir traced these routes further, mapping the region and including journeys to the tops of peaks. Not all of these groups followed the same paths; as Thomas Howard notes in his study of road-building in California, different modes of transportation (foot travel, mule team, stagecoach, and later railroads) resulted in following and even creating very different overland routes.28 Still, all of these many parties, moving through and across California for wildly different reasons, marked their steps into the landscape. The concept of building trails specifically for the purpose of recreation—for moun- taineering and trekking in particular—is a more recent development. In the Sierras, trails built solely for recreation were created in the mid-nineteenth century around increased tourism into Yosemite Valley and the surrounding areas. In 1855, Milton and Houston Mann developed a toll trail into Yosemite Valley, utilizing pre-existing routes, including indigenous trails, as much as possible.29 The Coulterville Free Trail was built in 1856 by residents of Coulterville into the Valley; this is one of the first recorded in the area that “did not benefit . . . from any previous existing Indian trail.”30 In ad- dition, trails to summits, for the purpose of climbing, were developed in the period. For example, the Mt. Whitney Trail was purpose-built by residents of Lone pine in 1904 to enable scientific inquiry from the Whitney peak—and of course the journeys of many since who have desired to summit the highest peak in the lower 48 states.31 Waldroup / hard to reach 453Tourism in the Sierras, and especially in Yosemite, has a complex and contentious history, further tying it with modernity’s imperialism. Scholars have clearly established that native populations were forcibly removed and that traces of native civilization (including cultivation and controlled burning) were erased by agents of the U.S. govern- ment, creating the suggestion of an empty, pristine wilderness and opening the valley for bourgeois tourism.32 Sears argues that Yosemite was “appropriated and produced for an audience hungry for national icons and for places which symbolized the exotic wonder of a region just beginning to be known” (Sears, 123). He further explains that tourism in western states initially drew on themes from American tourism in the earlier decades of the nineteenth century, especially themes around natural wonders such as Niagara Falls and the White Mountains of New Hampshire, with American tourism developing as a “mythology of unusual things to see” (Sears, 3). Finally, he stresses that photography, particularly stereographic photography, played a key role in marketing western tourist sites to middle-class audiences (Sears, 123). Richard Grusin develops this idea further, arguing that “American national identity has always been inseparable from nature” and that the preservation of natural spaces is intrinsically tied up with this identity (Grusin, 1). Thus, although Brigman would be more accurately described as a hiker (as noted previously), she made use of trails that had been mapped and occasion- ally even created as part of modernity’s complex relationship to nature, characterized by the desires both to capture and control nature and to experience it recreationally. Since late-nineteenth-century discourses about nature intersect with antimodern sentiments, mountaineering also demonstrates an ambivalent relationship with the key tropes of modernity. An alternate voice in the scholarship on mountaineering comes from the work of Sherry Ortner, who argues that mountaineering is a “countermodern discourse” (Ortner, 39). She explains, “The point of climbing is to find something that one cannot find in modern life, that indeed has been lost in modern life” (Ortner, 38). For her, mountaineering’s spiritual engagement contrasts with modernity’s secularism, with “the crass materialism and pragmatism of modern life”; mountaineering offers an implicit critique of modern life through its rejection of civilization in favor of the wilderness (Ortner, 37). Her position is compelling, and she makes a strong case for the reflective, thrilling experience of mountaineering as opposed to the vulgar, boring routine of modern industrial (and postindustrial) life. Her more developed discussion of Sherpa-climber relations in the Himalayas serves to underscore the antimodern (and undeniably primitivist) desires of European mountaineers. Still, mountaineering depends on the modern subject for its existence. Key aspects of mountaineering are undoubtedly modern. The celebration of the individual, the desire for the panoptic view from the peak, and especially the trail-building projects that seek to map the wilderness and structure the movement of the bourgeois subject through it—all these are firmly enmeshed in discourses of modernity. The emphasis on technology in mountaineering—the development of gear and equipment both to ease the journey and to preserve the safety of the mountaineer—also points to its roots in modernity. However, Ortner’s argument is not incommensurate with other scholarship on moun- taineering: her research instead suggests that, like Brigman’s work, the relationship between mountaineering and modernity is ambivalent and complex. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 454 Anne Brigman and California Mountaineering The Sierras are a place of extremes. One begins in a desert climate; one then travels through multiple ecosystems, including lush evergreen forest and meadow, to emerge above the tree line to rock-covered peaks. Over the course of twenty-four hours, tem- peratures may vary from baking hot to well below freezing. Although valleys are dry, thunderstorms hover over peaks on a near-daily basis. The mountains are blanketed in many feet of snow during winter, and even during the height of summer (which is when Brigman spent her time there), large fields of snow remain at high elevations. As noted previously, Brigman camped at an altitude of around eight thousand feet, but she made multiple excursions up to ten thousand feet. The highest peaks in the region are in the thirteen- to fourteen-thousand-foot range, with the tallest, Mt. Whitney, reaching 14,505 feet.33 While Brigman did not scale any of the higher peaks, even at an elevation of ten thousand feet one has the sense of being in a transformed place. Ancient bristlecone pines, often several thousand years old and shaped by wind and weather, boulder-strewn meadows populated by marmots and pikas, and alpine lakes are all otherworldly. The aesthetics of Brigman’s photographs—both those she self-consciously produced as art, and her more casual work recording her treks—and the experiences she recorded in her writings speak to her strong connections with alpinist culture. For Brigman, her time in the Sierras placed her outside her quotidian existence, which included frequent hikes in the Oakland Hills that were enjoyable but did not afford views of undeveloped land in the same way that the Sierras did. That existence is revealed in a photograph of the photographer posed in a tree, with a house visible in the valley behind her. Its caption reads, “Scarcely a Sunday thru the past year has been missed from the trail. It gives back a sanity and peace and a new hold on the good life that is ours for the taking if we are only wise enough to know how” (figure 1).34 The low, tree-covered peaks in this image recall those close to home, such as the Oakland Hills or possibly the Santa Cruz Mountains, and her clothing, hat, and boots suggest that she is out for a Sunday stroll. During her time in the Sierras, however, Brigman attempted rougher terrain. As a recreational hiker, Brigman was likely not experienced in overland navigation; she would have relied on clearly marked trails as she explored the surrounding landscape. She also did not appear to be interested in hiking solely for the purpose of reaching peaks (“peakbagging”). Instead, Brigman appears to have been primarily interested in exploring the landscape in the general area of her camp, for recreation, for spiritual and personal development, and for her photographic prac- tice. As Ehrens explains, during Brigman’s Sierra adventures, “photography became her medium for achieving a mystical union with nature, a ritual that allowed her to create and alter her own world” (Ehrens, 23–24). The previous fifty-plus years of Anglo exploration, mountaineering, and trailbuilding in the region facilitated her journeys and created a spiritualist paradigm for the experience of alpine locations. Within the context of modernity, mountains were specific peaks to be ascended, us- ing ever-developing mountaineering technology (gear, climbing techniques) to achieve previously unreachable heights. In various writings, including essays and letters, Brig- Waldroup / hard to reach 455 ▲ Fig. 1. Photographer unknown, portrait of Anne Brigman, c. 1912. Gelatin silver print. Anne Brigman Papers, Stieglitz/O’Keefe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permission of the Beinecke Library. ▲ Fig. 2. Brigman (far right) with her sister, a friend, and their dog, c. 1909. Gelatin silver print. Anne Brigman Papers, Stieglitz/ O’Keefe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permis- sion of the Beinecke Library. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 456 man describes her treks among the manzanita, juniper, and sage looking for shooting sites, and stresses that specific places held considerable influence over both her psyche and in the production of particular artworks. Her knowledge of the Sierran landscape also indicates a keen understanding of the region’s topography. In a poem entitled “To a Snow-Line Tree,” and in various photographic works, she addresses the high altitude, specifically the experience of being above the tree line. She also frequently notes specific altitudes, as written on the verso of a photo of Brigman, her sister, a friend, and their dog standing in a snow field at an altitude of ten thousand feet (figure 2). In a postcard from Glen Alpine (probably the town of Glen Alpine Springs, near Lake Tahoe), Brigman wrote, “We’ve left our three weeks of glorious camping today and have come down to 6,800 [feet] for a couple of days before dropping to nearly sea level in Oakland. I’ve meant to write you in our high camp (8,000).” 35 Finally, as she notes in an essay for Camera Craft, Brigman explained the more universal emotional experience produced through exposure to the rugged Sierra landscape: “Though I use Sierra trees and crags and thunderstorms, they . . . hold, in pictorial form, stories of the deep emotions and struggles or joys of the human soul in the form of allegory.” 36 Like other modern mountaineers, Brigman describes her experiences in the Sierras using specific descriptors that mark her adventures at particular altitudes and locations. Brigman’s writings also recall the adventurous language of many mountaineers’ memoirs. As Hansen explains, mountaineers used “language of exploration and ad- venture” to describe their journeys.37 In addition to the spiritual themes of Brigman’s writing, linking her to Muir and others, the sense of adventure—of freedom in the wilderness—is central to Brigman’s writings from the Sierras. In one letter she noted, “Late in July I made up my mind that what ailed me was hunger—hunger for the clean, high, silent places, up near the sun and stars.”38 She packed her gear, including Leaves of Grass and Edward Carpenter’s Towards Democracy, and chose a smaller portable film camera, as opposed to her four-by-five inch view camera. She explained, “I wanted to forget everything except that I was going back to heaven, back to heaven in my high boots, and trousers, and mackinaw coat. That was all I wanted.”39 Further, a sense of self-reliance on the part of both Brigman and the women who accompanied her is woven throughout her writings on the Sierras. In her unpublished foreword to an early version of Songs of A Pagan, Brigman wrote: “The few figures I have used through the years of the mountain series were slim, hearty, unaffected women of early maturity, living a hardy out-of-door life in high boots and jeans, toughened to wind and sun . . . cooking for weeks over a camp-fire with wood from the forest around us . . . and carrying water from the icy lake at our feet . . . bearing and forbearing to the utmost.”40 Brigman’s adventures also coincided with a key period in California history: the emergence of the conservation movement, spearheaded by John Muir and influenced by the writings of Edward Carpenter, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and others. The Sierras were a focus both of land conservation politics and of Muir’s environmental spiritual- ism, in which Yosemite Valley in particular served as “a kind of natural cathedral.”41 Departing somewhat from mountaineering’s modernist focus on the bourgeois subject, Muir’s experience in the mountains reached back to an earlier, arguably more romantic Waldroup / hard to reach 457understanding of the alpine experience as a locus of spiritual growth and contemplation. As Michael Branch explains, one example of this romantic departure is Muir’s narrative structure in My First Summer in the Sierras, which represents Muir’s transition from lowlands to peaks as a spiritual journey, away from the corrupt civilized world and toward the purity of the wilderness.42 Guided by Muir, California alpinism developed along distinctly spiritualist lines. In this antimodern paradigm, the rugged wilderness existed in opposition to civilization; it was a place to gain access to spiritual purity. The Sierra Club was founded in 1892 for “recreational, educational, and conservationist” purposes, but with Muir’s spiritualist philosophies as a contextual framework. While it is uncertain if Brigman was a member of the Sierra Club, she certainly would have been familiar both with its policies and with its projects, and the popularity of the Club produced an audience that would have been receptive to Brigman’s works.43 In one example of Brigman’s connection with both the philosophical and pragmatic manifestations of California alpinism, Brigman wrote the following of a visit to Yosemite Valley in July 1914: Those were marvelous days in the corduroy suit and tramping boots. Waterfalls, roaring streams and rivers—granite rocks towering. . . . After hours of hot, patient climbing up zigzag trails the valley lay 3,000 feet below—and peak after peak rose in the distance like waves. It was good to be alive in those bare sunkissed places—to be hot and thirsty and panting with exertion—to look down the long trail, across great shoulders of granite—and realize how truly strong you were and how mighty a thing is willpower. To lift, lift step after step until what had been wished for was accomplished. I can’t begin to tell of the majesty of the place—it is too big and solemn. I was up at four o’clock, the night a party of us climbed to Glacier point, 3,000 feet above the valley.44 Brigman probably reached Glacier point via the Four Mile Trail, a switchbacked (“zigzag”) trail first constructed in the 1870s for Yosemite visitors, following the path of many others before and since who have trekked up this steep incline to experience the view from the top. This quotation further develops an aspect of Brigman’s relation- ship to the area that particularly intersects with mountaineering: while she stresses the thrill of achieving a particular location (the summit of Glacier point, overlooking Yosemite Valley), records her elevation above the valley for the reader’s edification, and demonstrates her physical strength and personal willpower, she also notes the profound emotional-spiritual experience of achieving the summit, of experiencing the “big and solemn,” sublime view from the overlook. Both in letters to friends and colleagues and in several published essays, Brigman’s writings from the region demonstrate antimodern and spiritualist tendencies, recalling contemporary works by Muir and others in both theme and content. Brigman certainly was familiar with Walt Whitman and quotes from Leaves of Grass in her essay “The Glory of the Open” and elsewhere. It is uncertain whether or not Brigman read relevant California literature, such as the writings of Muir and King; she does not quote them directly in any of the documents consulted by this researcher. Still, although she does not specifically mention Muir, Brigman must have been familiar with his works if not M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 458 with the man himself: they were being published as collections of essays in the years in which Brigman was actively visiting the Sierras. Not only was Muir a prolific author, but he and Brigman traveled in the same bohemian social sphere in the Bay Area, and they espoused parallel ideas about the relationships between spirituality and nature. Brigman did not, apparently, join any of the Sierra Club’s “High Trips”—organized camping and hiking trips—in the California wilderness (including Yosemite), but her own forays into the area combined packing in by mule to a base camp and conducting day hikes similar to the Sierra Club’s structured outings.45 The themes found in Muir’s writings were echoed in Brigman’s own. For example, in an essay titled “Awareness,” Brigman wrote, “One day during the gathering of a thunderstorm when the air was hot and still and a strange yellow light was over everything, something happened almost too deep for me to be able to relate. New dimensions revealed themselves in the visualization of the human form as a part of tree and rock rhythms and I turned full force to the medium at hand and the be- loved Thing gave to me a power and abandon that I could not have had otherwise.”46 Similarly, Muir writes of being profoundly drawn to the region, even when viewing it from afar. When viewing peaks from the valley where he was working a flock of sheep, he explains, “Through a meadow opening in the pine woods I see snowy peaks about the headwaters of the Merced above Yosemite. How near they seem and how clear their outlines on the blue air. . . . How consuming strong the invitation they extend!”47 Certainly Muir is not “only” a mountaineer, but also a pioneer of environmental and conservation movements in California and the American west more broadly, yet like Brigman, he had a strong spiritualist relationship to the landscape and saw his experi- ences in the mountains not only as a form of recreation but also as a way to achieve spiritual depth and experience. In addition to the experiences recorded in her various writings, the aesthetics of Brigman’s works from the Sierras engage with both modern and antimodern themes. Brigman certainly follows a history of Euro-American landscape photographers in the west, such as Eadweard Muybridge and Carleton Watkins, but her employment of pictorialism differentiates her work from theirs.48 The photographs produced out of Brigman’s explorations both represent the Sierras as a specific place—she was in- vested in capturing key details of the landscape—and operate as an analog for more universal spiritual experiences to be had in the landscape. This concept manifests in both her casual snapshots and her heavily manipulated pictorialist compositions. In one example, Brigman stresses that being in a particular location and experiencing the forceful weather patterns of the Sierras led to the production of her 1925 photograph Invictus (figure 3): “There, in this high, lone place . . . between hail showers and rac- ing clouds and glorious sunlight, the film of the print Invictus came to birth.”49 In this image, Brigman’s compelling composition captures the solidity and grandeur of the Sierran landscape: the powerful vertical form of the tree, rising upward and outward, enveloping the body of the woman standing within it, contrasts with the sloping hori- zon line, which is balanced by a weighty boulder in the background. The wide range of tones in the image, from the strong shadows beneath the tree to the clouds in the Waldroup / hard to reach 459 ▲ Fig. 3. Anne Brigman, Invictus, 1925. Gelatin silver print. Scripps College, Gift of C. Jane Hurley Wilson and Michael G. Wilson, 2008. Reproduced with permission of the Ruth Chandler Williamson Gallery. ▲ Fig. 4. Anne Brigman, Harlequin, undated. Gelatin silver print glued into album. Anne Brigman Papers, Stieglitz/ O’Keefe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permission of the Beinecke Library. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 460 sky, add greater depth and drama to the image. Finally, the nude female figure seems both to merge with and to rise up from the tree itself. Brigman’s description of the storm, suggested by the darkening sky and deepening shadows, only adds to the richly sublime aesthetics of the work. In the undated print Harlequin (figure 4), the viewer is presented with the tree itself, in strong reclined profile, reaching out towards the sky and peaks in the background. At this stage of her career, Brigman made relatively few pure landscapes, and certainly this work points towards the impact her work would have on mid-twentieth-century landscape photographers such as Edward Weston. This study also points to her inter- est in the agency contained within elements of nature itself: nature is not merely the object, but the active subject of her work. Like the rhythm contained in the trees and rocks that Brigman describes elsewhere, the tree trunk in Harlequin appears to undulate with a living energy. The graininess of her pictorialist style and her weighted composition creates an ambiguous form, in which the distinction between the tree and its surrounding landscape of sky and mountains is not entirely apparent. Finally, in her undated piece Sierra Landscape (figure 5), Brigman moves away from her typical style of ascribing mythical or spiritualist titles to her works and identifies her subject—a powerful tree and an alpine lake—as one located in the Sierra Nevada. Unlike the work of her male predecessors intent on ostensibly objective documentation, Brigman ▲ Fig. 5. Anne Brigman, Sierra Landscape, undated. Gelatin silver print glued into album. Anne Brigman Papers, Stieglitz/O’Keefe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permission of the Beinecke Library. Waldroup / hard to reach 461purposefully blurs and smears her image, producing a unique Sierran landscape with the intention of generating a rich emotional-spiritual response that mirrors her own experiences in the wilderness. Brigman’s casual photos taken in the Sierras depart somewhat from the spiritualist themes of her art photography, engaging more closely with the adventurous tropes of modern mountaineering. Brigman’s formal artistic works draw on motifs of female liberation, as pyne has cogently argued, and this concept of the liberated woman—in this case, a sporty toughness and rugged affinity for the outdoors—also comes through in her casual snapshots from the Sierras. While Brigman used models for her formal artistic works, these casual photos of Brigman herself are integral for understanding her experience of the mountain landscape. First, like many women mountaineers of the period, Brigman is continually shown wearing wool knickers rather than skirts, demonstrating freedom of movement. pants were becoming somewhat more popular for women in the early twentieth century, at least for recreational activities, and as Ann Colley has noted, women mountaineers since the late-nineteenth century often wore knickerbockers while climbing, either on their own or in combination with a matching skirt that could be taken on and off as needed, without being considered unfeminine.50 In the photograph of Brigman with her sister, friend, and their dog in a snow field (figure 2), Brigman’s sister remains in a dress while Brigman wears knickers, thus presenting herself as the true adventurer of the group. ▲ Fig. 6. Brigman on Castle Peak, c. 1909. Gelatin silver print. Anne Brigman Papers, Beinecke Library, Stieglitz/O’Keefe Archive, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permission of the Beinecke Library. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 462 A series of solitary photos of Brigman on Castle peak (9,109 feet) further demon- strates her self-presentation as lone explorer. Brigman may or may not have climbed to the summit; nevertheless, these two photographs are framed to present Brigman in heroic poses: in one instance, with her hat in hand, waving in the wind; in the other, standing on a boulder, silhouetted against the Sierra sky, as if on a high, steep preci- pice (figure 6). More overt manipulation is evident in another image, the final print of which ostensibly shows Brigman traversing an overhung cliff (figure 7). While the interpositive version demonstrates manipulation—particularly that the overhang was added through scratching and painting directly on the negative—the final print appears to be of Brigman negotiating a dangerous corner of a cliff face.51 Finally, in all of these images, Brigman’s wool attire, knickers, and sturdy shoes mark her as a capable trekker, prepared for her adventures in the wilderness. As is attested even by the contemporary ▲ Fig. 7. Brigman “traversing” a cliff in the Sierras, c. 1909. Gelatin silver print. Anne Brigman Papers, Stieglitz/O’Keefe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380. Reproduced with permission of the Beinecke Library. Waldroup / hard to reach 463popularity of patagonia’s Merino wool line and by wool-focused companies such as Icebreaker and Ibex, wool has often been marketed as the “new” high-tech fabric for outdoor gear, marketed as “natural,” wicking, and non-“stinky.”52 In these photos of Brigman herself, one of which was included in the preliminary pages to the published version of Songs of a Pagan (figure 7), the photographer presents herself as able ad- venturess in the mountains, both spiritually aware and powerfully physically active. Mountaineering and Photography: Modern and Antimodern photography is arguably the most modern of modernity’s image-making technolo- gies, produced out of the primacy granted to vision during the enlightenment and out of industrialism’s fetishization of the machine, with the photographer nevertheless remaining the active subject of the gaze, in control of the image produced. photogra- phy’s relationship to mountaineering is both pragmatic and ontological. It played a key documentary role in mountaineering, particularly as evidence of first ascents. In the U.S., the photography of Timothy O’Sullivan, Watkins’s mammoth plate photography, and stereographic views by many photographers mapped California for middle-class audiences in the east, making the west knowable to these viewers and enabling them to travel vicariously to the new American Eden. Similarly, mountaineering is a highly visual endeavor: even before the advent of photography, the experience of summiting a peak and obtaining the panoptic view it afforded was of key interest, with the moun- taineer as active locus of the gaze. Both photography and mountaineering articulate with antimodernism in significant ways, yet both are deeply ingrained in modernist discourses, particularly around technology and the centrality of the bourgeois subject. Intriguingly, after relocating to Southern California, Brigman’s photographic work would become overtly modernist in style, with flat planes, abstract close-ups, lack of toning in her silver prints, and clear focus recalling the work of Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, and other midcentury California photographers. The archival record on Brigman is deep and needs continual reading. In particular, her relationship to the burgeoning environmental movement in California and her potential knowledge of John Muir’s work are projects that invite further consideration. My goal here has been to acknowledge the multiple influences on Brigman and the many worlds her work inhabited. By situating Brigman’s work within the history of mountaineering and exam- ining her relationship to antimodernist discourses, I have attempted to enable further understanding of the multiple influences on her work, while stressing the ambivalent yet mutually dependent relationship between antimodernism and modernity. I finish here with Brigman’s own words. In a letter of 4 July 1917, she wrote, “Am off to camp for 6 weeks. It’s great ‘to eat and sleep with the earth.’”53 She then departed the Bay Area for a glorious summer in the mountains. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 464 Notes 1. Letter from Anne Brigman to Frank Crownshield of Vanity Fair, 6 October 1916. Alfred Stieglitz/Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, Yale University, New Haven, CT, YCAL MSS 85, series 1, box 8, folder 171. 2. Anne Brigman, typescript of foreword to unpublished version of Songs of a Pagan. Anne Brig- man papers, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380, box 2, n.p. 3. Brigman, typescript of foreword, n.p. 4. See “Local Art Bought by Miss Harriman: Two Lens Studies of Mrs. Brigman added to Notable Collection,” San Francisco Call, 8 August 1911, 8. Many Bay Area newspapers praised Brigman’s work; for just one example, see “New Trail in Art Blazed by Woman: Oakland ‘pioneer’ Changes photography from Mechanical process to Spiritual Expression,” San Francisco Examiner, December 1924 (specific date unknown), 20; clipping located in the Anne Brigman papers, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380, box 5. Brigman’s work was also mentioned positively in an announcement of an upcoming exhibition in Brooklyn; see “Institute’s Department of photography presents an April Exhibit of California Studies by Ann [sic] Brigman,” Bulletin of the Brooklyn Institute of Arts and Sciences, 2 April 1932; pamphlet located in Anne Brigman papers, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380, box 5. For an example of a posi- tive critique of Brigman’s work that received national circulation, see “Works of Nature and Works of Art Blended in the California Camera Studies of Anne Brigman,” Vanity Fair 6, no. 4 (1916): 50–52. 5. Letter from Brigman to Crownshield (see note one). 6. Susan Ehrens, A Poetic Vision: The Photographs of Anne Brigman (Santa Barbara: Santa Bar- bara Museum of Art, 1995); hereafter cited in the text as “Ehrens.” Kathleen pyne, “Response: On Feminine phantoms: Mother, Child, and Woman-Child,” The Art Bulletin 88, no. 1 (2006): 44–61. Kathleen pyne, Modernism and the Feminine Voice: O’Keefe and the Women of the Stieglitz Circle (Berkeley: University of California press, 2007); hereafter cited in the text as “pyne.” I thank Susan Ehrens for her generosity in pointing me to several key primary sources on Brigman. 7. T. J. Jackson Lears, No Place of Grace: Antimodernism and the Transformation of American Culture, 1880–1920 (New York: pantheon, 1981), xiii. 8. Lynda Jessup, “Antimodernism and Artistic Experience: An Introduction,” in Antimodernism and Artistic Experience: Policing the Boundaries of Modernity, ed. Lynda Jessup (Toronto: University of Toronto press, 2001), 4. 9. Anne Brigman, Songs of a Pagan (Caldwell, ID: Caxton printers, 1949). Letter from Brigman to Stieglitz, December 1912, Alfred Stieglitz / Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 85, series 1, box 8, folder 170. 10. See Alison Nordström and David Wooters, “Crafting the Art of the photograph,” in Truth Beauty: Pictorialism and the Photograph as Art, 1845–1945, ed. Thomas padon (Vancouver, BC: Douglas and McIntyre, 2008). 11. For a discussion of the relationship between pictorialism and the arts and crafts movement, see Christian peterson, “American Arts and Crafts: The photograph Beautiful, 1895–1915,” History of Photography 16, no. 3 (1992): 189–233. See also Michael Wilson, “Northern California: The Heart of the Storm,” in Pictorialism in California: Photographs 1900–1940, eds. Michael G. Wilson and Dennis Reed (Los Angeles: J. paul Getty Museum and the Huntington Library, 1994), 1–22; hereafter cited in the text as “Wilson.” Ehrens discusses this relationship, as well (Ehrens, 20), and pyne discusses Brigman’s own interest in the arts and crafts movement (pyne, 67). 12. No author, pamphlet from exhibition with print list, 6–16 November, year unknown (probably 1909). Anne Brigman papers, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 380, box 5. 13. Brigman, Songs of a Pagan, 89. 14. David Levinsen and Karen Christiansen, “Mountain Climbing,” in The Encyclopedia of World Sport: From Ancient Times to the Present, vol. 2 (Oxford: ABC-Clio, 1996), 659. 15. Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust: A History of Walking (New York: Viking, 2000), 85. 16. Levinsen and Christiansen, “Mountain Climbing,” 659. 17. Levinsen and Christiansen, “Mountain Climbing,” 659. 18. See Kerwin Lee Klein, “A Vertical World: The Eastern Alps and Modern Mountaineering,” Journal of Historical Sociology 24, no. 4 (2011): 519–48. Waldroup / hard to reach 46519. peter H. Hansen, “Albert Smith, the Alpine Club, and the Invention of Mountaineering in Mid-Victorian Britain,” Journal of British Studies 34, no. 3 (1995): 304. 20. Reuben J. Ellis, Vertical Margins: Mountaineering and the Landscapes of Neoimperialism (Madison: University of Wisconsin press, 2001). 21. “Mountaineering,” Encyclopedia Brittanica, 10th ed., vol. 31 (Edinburgh and London: Adam and Charles Black, 1902): 22–24. 22. As several insightful histories of women and mountaineering have demonstrated, such mascu- linist adventure was not always masculine. For a few examples, see Bill Birkett, Women Climbing: 200 Years of Achievement (Seattle and London: Mountaineers), 1990; David Mazel, ed., Mountaineering Women: Stories by Early Climbers (College Station: Texas A&M University press, 1994); Rebecca Brown, Women on High: Pioneers of Mountaineering (Boston: Appalachian Mountain Club Books, 2002); Karen Routledge, “Being a Girl Without Being a Girl: Gender and Mountaineering on Mount Waddington, 1926–36,” BC Studies 141 (2004): 31–58; Maurice Isserman and Stewart Weaver, Fallen Giants: a History of Himalayan Mountaineering from the Age of Empire to the Age of Extremes (New Haven: Yale University press, 2008); and Ann Colley, Victorians in the Mountains: Sinking the Sublime (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2010). For an extraordinary study of the relationships between mountaineering and gender more broadly, see Sherry Ortner, Life and Death on Mt. Everest: Sherpas and Himalayan Mountaineering (princeton, NJ: princeton University press, 1999); hereafter cited in the text as “Ortner.” 23. William Bueler, “American Ascents Before 1860,” Appalachia 40, no. 8 (1975): 102. I thank Amauri Serrano for making this article available to me. 24. Bueler, “American Ascents,” 103. 25. Marguerite Shaffer, “Negotiating National Identity: Western Tourism and ‘See America First,’” in Reopening the American West, ed. Hal K. Rothman (Tucson: University of Arizona press, 1998), 123. 26. Marguerite Shaffer, See America First: Tourism and National Identity, 1880–1940 (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution press, 2001), 3. 27. This is a broad field of literature. In addition to Shaffer’s See America First, see for example Fran- cis Farquhar, History of the Sierra Nevada (Berkeley: University of California press, 1965); John Sears, Sacred Places: American Tourist Attractions in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Oxford University press, 1989); hereafter cited in the text as “Sears.” See also Rebecca Solnit, Savage Dreams: A Journey into the Landscape Wars of the American West (Berkeley: University of California press, 2000); Mark David Spence, Dispossessing the Wilderness: Indian Removal and the Making of the National Parks (New York: Oxford University press, 2000); Richard Grusin, Culture, Technology, and the Creation of America’s National Parks (Cambridge: Cambridge University press, 2004); hereafter cited in the text as “Grusin.” Sears notes that popular constructions of Yosemite of the mid-nineteenth-century focused on the park’s role as a “wonder” or curiosity; the idea of preservation/conservation did not come into play until later in the nineteenth century (Sears, 130). Grusin intriguingly argues that the creation of Yosemite in 1864, when it was ceded to the state of California by Congress, “constitutes the creation of a technology for the reproduction of nature as landscape”; he cites an early report on the park by Frederick Law Olmstead as “a complex expression of a cultural logic of recreation, a logic which relies upon structural parallels between the preservation of Yosemite and several of the related cultural practices in which the origins of American environmentalism are embedded. . . . Olmstead represents Yosemite’s preservation in terms of a structure of aesthetic agency so systematic in late- nineteenth century America as to appear to be natural” (Grusin, 16, 21–22). 28. Thomas Frederick Howard, Sierra Crossing: First Roads to California (Berkeley: University of California press, 1998), 12–14. In his writings from California, Muir mentions bushwhacking and following animal trails in addition to what appear to be built trails. See John Muir, Steep Trails: Cali- fornia, Utah, Nevada, Washington, Oregon, the Grand Cañon, in The Writings of John Muir: Sierra Edition, vol. 8 (Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1918). While the history of recreational trail-building needs further exploration, certainly many of the currently used trails in the Sierras were in place by the 1930s. See Walter Augustus Starr, Guide to the John Muir Trail and the High Sierra Region, 1st ed. (San Francisco: Sierra Club, 1934). I thank Jeff Schaffer for pointing me to this source. M O D E R N I S M / m o d e r n i t y 466 29. C. Frank Brockman, “Development of Transportation to Yosemite,” Yosemite Nature Notes 22, no. 6 (June 1943): 53. 30. Brockman, “Development of Transportation to Yosemite,” 55. 31. Farquhar, History of the Sierra Nevada, 182. 32. See Spence, Dispossessing the Wilderness, and Grusin. 33. National Geodetic Survey Data Sheet for Mt. Whitney, accessed 27 May 2012, http://www. ngs.noaa.gov/cgi-bin/ds_mark.prl?pidBox=GT1811. 34. Alfred Stieglitz/Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 85, series IV, box 149, folder 2780. 35. postcard dated 27 September 1912, Alfred Stieglitz/Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 85, series 1, box 8, folder 170. 36. Anne Brigman, “Just a Word,” Camera Craft 15, no. 3 (March 1908): 87. 37. Hansen, “Albert Smith, the Alpine Club,” 304. 38. Anne Brigman, “The Glory of the Open,” Camera Craft 33, no. 4 (1926): 158. 39. Brigman, “The Glory of the Open,” 158. 40. Brigman, typescript of foreword (see note 2). 41. David peeler, The Illuminating Mind in American Photography: Stieglitz, Strand, Weston, Adams (Rochester, NY: University of Rochester press, 2001), 282. 42. Michael Branch, “John Muir’s My First Summer in the Sierra (1911),” ISLE: Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment 11, no. 1 (2004): 143. 43. The Sierra Club’s policies were perhaps best represented in the work of Ansel Adams, who was a few decades younger than Brigman and who certainly knew of Brigman’s work. Indeed, the potential cross-fertilization of Adams and Brigman is a project that requires further study. Like Brigman, Adams saw his forays into the Sierras as a way to encounter “the wonderful Spirit of the mountains” (quoted in peeler, The Illuminating Mind, 283). Their stylistic differences aside—Adams rejected his initial pictorialist style for a near-fetishization of clarity for which he became best known—the two photog- raphers certainly overlap in their stress on the transformational powers of their alpine experiences. 44. Letter dated July 1912. Alfred Stieglitz/Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 85, series 1, box 8, folder 171. 45. Solnit, Wanderlust, 149. 46. Anne Brigman,”Awareness,” Design for Arts in Education 38 (1936): 18. 47. John Muir, My First Summer in the Sierra (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1911), 22. 48. See Kate Nearpass Ogden, “Sublime Vistas and Scenic Backdrops: Nineteenth-Century painters and photographers at Yosemite,” California History 69, no. 2 (1990): 134–53; and Deborah Bright, “The Machine in the Garden Revisited: American Environmentalism and photographic Aesthetics,” Art Journal 51, no. 2 (1992): 60–71. 49. Brigman, “The Glory of the Open,” 163. 50. Colley, Victorians in the Mountains, 123–25. 51. Ehrens has painstakingly documented Brigman’s unique process. After shooting her original film (either on glass plates or standard film), Ehrens explains, Brigman “first made interpositives from her original black and white negatives, using transparency film on which she then did extensive handiwork. After altering the interpositives, she would make new negatives which were then used to make photographic prints. Her many techniques for altering the interpositives include[ed] using pencils, pints, and etching tools to add or eliminate elements.” (Ehrens, 26). The interpositive of the photograph of Brigman on the ledge discussed here, as well as other works by Brigman, are available digitally through the George Eastman House’s Brigman, Kasebier, et al Positives series. Visit http:// www.geh.org/ar/strip81/htmlsrc/brigmanetal_sld00001.html. 52. See, for example, “Why wear Icebreaker merino?” Icebreaker Merino Website, https:// us.icebreaker.com/en/why-icebreaker-merino/why-wear-icebreaker-merino.html. 53. Letter dated 4 July 1917, Alfred Stieglitz/Georgia O’Keeffe Archive, Beinecke Library, YCAL MSS 85, series 1, box 8, folder 168. 
work_2a3y4kneqndknd5dtwfw3asdu4	----	Reclaiming the Individual From Hofstede’s Ecological Analysis— A 20-Year Odyssey: Comment on Oyserman et al. (2002) Michael Harris Bond Chinese University of Hong Kong D. Oyserman, H. M. Coon, and M. Kemmelmeier (2002) challenge the stereotype that European Americans are more individualistic and less collectivistic than persons from most other ethnic groups. The author contends that this stereotype took firm empirical root with G. Hofstede’s (1980) monumental publication identifying the United States as the most individualistic of his then 40 nations. This empirical designation arose because of challengeable decisions Hofstede made about the analysis of his data and the labeling of his dimensions. The conflation of concepts under the rubric of cultural individualism plus psychologists’ unwarranted psychologizing of the construct then combined with Hofstede’s empirical location of America to set a 20-year agenda for data collection. Oyserman et al. disentangle and organize this mass of studies, enabling the discipline of cross-cultural psychology to forge ahead in more productive directions, less reliant on previous assumptions and measures. First to enter is the master—Book of Han by Pan Ku (A.D. 32–92) The heroic integration of research on individualism– collectivism by Oyserman, Coon, and Kemmelmeier (2002) touches on some issues that have exercised me considerably over the last quarter century of doing cross-cultural social/personality psychology. I take this opportunity to comment on one of these issues: the freeing of our discipline from the intellectual shackles of Hofstede’s (1980) intellectual achievement. I believe that we cross-cultural psychologists have long been held in thrall by Hof- stede’s essential contribution and that many continue to misunder- stand what he did, wrestling with the ghosts of his legacy instead of developing cross-cultural psychology in more productive direc- tions. Those directions include identifying individual-level con- structs whose strength and connections with other constructs need to be examined across cultural groups; linking the strength of these individual constructs to socialization practices and institutional processes, which vary across cultural groups; examining the im- portance of extraindividual factors, such as norms, roles, and aspects of language, in generating social cognitions and behavior; and searching out novel constructs, processes, and theories ex- plaining human social behavior from the repository of non- Western cultural traditions (Smith & Bond, in press). This reflection focuses on the first of these directions and begins by considering why cross-cultural psychologists have spent the last 20 years reaching the disciplinary conclusion about individualism– collectivism described by Oyserman et al. (2002). By understanding this laborious process, I hope that the field can move forward more adroitly in the 21st century. Hofstede’s (1980) Nation-Mapping Hofstede is an organizational sociologist with an engineering background (see Hofstede, 1997). As research director at IBM in the mid-1960s, he had access to its employee survey, which surveyed equivalent, stratified samples of its workers in more than 40 countries. This survey included 32 items that Hofstede (1980) described as work goals or values. For each of his (initial- ly) 40 nations, Hofstede computed an average score for the en- dorsement given by each nation-sample to each of those 32 work- related values. He then produced a correlation matrix for these 32 average “nation-values.” This matrix was factor analyzed, yielding three factors, the largest of which was subdivided. This procedure yielded four dimensions by which nations could be described in terms of their factor score on each of the four dimensions. Hof- stede had mapped the values of nations much as former Dutch explorers had mapped the geography of terra incognita. Hofstede’s (1980) Herculean achievement was to provide the social sciences with an empirical mapping of 40 of the world’s major nations across four dimensions of culture, integrating these results with previous theorizing and data about national cultures, dimension by dimension. Social scientists were galvanized, and in the ensuing 20 years, Hofstede has become one of the most widely cited social scientists of all time (Hofstede, 1997). Cross-cultural psychologists like myself felt ourselves unleashed because we now enjoyed an empirical justification for considering our samples of subjects to be drawn from nations with different positions on one of Hofstede’s four dimensions. In part because of its distin- guished lineage in the social sciences, that dimension was usually individualism– collectivism. Nation-Level Individualism–Collectivism One wonders how the last 20 years of cross-cultural psychology would have differed if Hofstede (1980) had not made a number of crucial choices. The first was to label one of his four factors, individualism– collectivism. Six nation-values, in this case work I wish to express my thanks to Peter B. Smith for his wise counsel on an earlier version of this article. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Michael Harris Bond, Department of Psychology, Chinese University of Hong Kong, Shatin, N.T., Hong Kong, S. A. R. China. E-mail: mhb@cuhk.edu.hk Psychological Bulletin Copyright 2002 by the American Psychological Association, Inc. 2002, Vol. 128, No. 1, 73–77 0033-2909/02/$5.00 DOI: 10.1037//0033-2909.128.1.73 73 goals, constituted the factor. Personal time, freedom, and challenge were added together to define and constitute the individualism end of the dimension; use of skills, physical conditions, and training were added together to define and constitute the opposite end of the bipolar factor. The first three work goals bear obvious relations to individualism as that multifaceted construct has been discussed in the literature of the social sciences. How the last three work goals described anything resembling collectivism was, however, a mystery to many. Those three work goals constituted a bipolar contrast to the three individualistic items. Given linguistic conventions and theoretical comparisons developed in previous sociology, the temptation to label the contrasting three work goals as collectivism must have been overwhelming. I suggest that this labeling of a bipolar con- trast drawn at the national level has structured our subsequent thinking about this construct as a bipolar contrast at the individual level. I find it intriguing that Hofstede’s (1980) decision at another choice point may have deeded us this contrast. Factor analyses of raw value scores yield factors with values all loading positively on their prime factor. Hofstede, however, had first standardized his 32 nation-values within each of his 40 nations to eliminate any acquiescence bias that may have distorted a nation’s resulting position on the extracted factors. This procedure yields both pos- itively and negatively loading items, thereby creating bipolar con- trasts in the resulting factor loadings. Hofstede subsequently found that the extent of a country’s acquiescence bias correlated with its score on one of his four dimensions, power distance. As Hofstede argued, it makes sense that persons socialized into a hierarchical social system should be inclined to agree with most things asso- ciated with authority, like items in an employee survey. Thus, a nation’s degree of acquiescence has a meaningful rela- tionship to one of the extracted dimensions and may encapsulate important cultural distinctions. Had Hofstede (1980) not standard- ized the 32 work-related values within each nation, the subsequent nation positions may well have been the same as they were following his standardization. Indeed, my collaborators and I found that standardizing our Chinese values in 22 different nations made no difference in the resulting country positions when com- pared with results from the nonstandardized solution (Chinese Culture Connection, 1987). So, had Hofstede not standardized his nation-values within each nation, thereby generating bipolar di- mensions, the contrast of collectivism against individualism might never have influenced our subsequent work. The United States and Individualism Nonetheless, these six particular and perhaps peculiar work goals, three positive, three negative, were combined to yield scores for each of the 40 nations. By happy chance, the United States was located at the extreme of the dimension, the very exemplar of Hofstede’s (1980) individualism. The United States is the center of the world as far as the production of social science (Featherman, 1993) and empirical psychology is concerned. Consequently, it constitutes the contrasting culture against which most cross- cultural comparisons are made. Many literate, scholarly essays had long been a part of our disciplinary corpus, contrasting some cultural system with the American cultural system and using the contrasting concepts of individualism– collectivism to frame that discussion (e.g., Hsu, 1953). A plethora of cross-cultural research began to emerge after the publication of Hofstede’s (1980), Culture’s Consequences, fram- ing comparisons between American results and those of other cultures, usually Asian, in terms of individualism– collectivism. Given the richness of this concept, authors found this an easy argument to cast. The findings were cooperative too, given the elasticity of the conceptual contrast and the standard operating procedure of using only two cultural groups and then comparing the average score of American respondents with that of respon- dents from some non-Anglo Saxon nation. Few psychologists read Hofstede’s (1980) detailed methodology closely. Most forgot that Hofstede had extracted the dimension of individualism– collectivism by subdividing the larger first factor that emerged from his initial 40-nation factor analysis. Hofstede labeled the other subfactor power distance, with an individualism– collectivism and power distance correlation of -.67. On this di- mension of power distance, the United States was not located in an extreme position, with 14 countries showing lesser power distance. Had Hofstede stayed with his original three-factor solution and its strong first factor, it seems most unlikely that the United States would have been first among his 40 nations. More likely it would have been Israel, Ireland, Denmark, Great Britain, or Australia. Even if Hofstede had persisted with the label individualism– collectivism, would we still have enjoyed the efflorescence of cross-cultural studies on this cultural concept had the United States not been its prime exemplar? The Puzzling Position of Japan As Oyserman et al. (2002) remind us, Japan is perhaps the most intensely studied exemplar of the collectivist cultural extreme, certainly by cross-cultural psychologists. It was, however, not the obvious choice for a contrast using Hofstede’s (1980) taxonomy because 16 of Hofstede’s 40 countries are even more collectivistic than Japan. On power distance it was 22nd, close to the United States’s 15th position. Again, this closer inspection of Hofstede’s results suggests that had Hofstede left his first factor intact, Japan and the United States would have been cultural neighbors, not distant contrasts. Indeed, a two-factor solution (Bond, 1996) to a more recent multicultural study of values (Schwartz, 1994) puts Japan and the United States in almost the same exact position from among the 37 countries in the array! Therefore, one might well ask why Oyserman et al. evinced such surprise in their readers when they convincingly demonstrated, as have Takano and Osaka (1999), that Japanese are often more individualistic, not less, than Americans? Using hindsight, we never should have been so surprised. Psychologizing National Individualism–Collectivism Hofstede’s (1980) four-dimensional mapping of national values met a growing academic hunger for structure concerning culture. Previously, cultural contrasts in the social sciences had often seemed tendentious, Procrustean, and ideological. By contrast, Hofstede had deployed the full scientific armamentarium of ana- lytical techniques to 116,000 questionnaires gathered from matched samples in 40 nations, repeated twice, in 1967 and 1971. 74 BOND He then positioned these 40 nations on his four dimensions and supported this dimensionalizing with a daunting array of support- ive theory and findings culled from his extensive knowledge of the social science literature. I submit that social psychologists were mesmerized by this “fearful symmetry” and all too willingly ignored anomalies and the fine print. Many overlooked Hofstede’s (1980) division of his first factor, embraced his location of the United States as the highest of the 40 nations on individualism, accepted his characterization of coun- tries high on the six work goals as validly defining a contrast between individualism– collectivism, and then proceeded to com- mit the ecological fallacy of regarding Americans as the world’s most individualistic persons. Hofstede (1980) had warned readers about this flaw in logic. The ecological fallacy occurs when an association among nation-level variables (ecological indices) is assumed to apply to individuals. Such a fallacy would be perpe- trated, for example, if readers assumed that the six work goals defining nation-level individualism– collectivism in Hofstede’s analysis would likewise define individualism– collectivism at the individual level. If one could legitimately do so, it would be a simple extension of Hofstede’s (1980) results to conclude that because the United States was first in nation-level individualism and last in nation- level collectivism, Americans are therefore more individualistic and less collectivistic on average than persons from any other country. Social scientists may not do so. As has been shown by many authors (e.g., Hofstede, Bond, & Luk, 1993; K. Leung, 1989; Shweder, 1973), the pattern of correlations at the national (or organizational or group) level is not replicated at the individual level. Even though some forcefully argue that there is pressure within the social system for an individual organization of value groupings to align itself with a national organization of value groupings (Schwartz, 1994), in practice such isomorphism does not occur. Nation-level constructs are not logically or empirically constituted the same way as individual-level constructs, conve- nient as it would be. Unpackaging Individualism Psychologically Many cross-cultural psychologists were alert to this fallacy and struggled to ladder Hofstede down from the national to the indi- vidual level. If one could identify an equivalent construct measur- ing individual-level individualism, then one could begin examin- ing relations between this individual-level individualism and other relevant variables within a number of national groups to see if these relations were culture-general or culture-specific. Psychol- ogy could then move toward creating universal theories that were empirically grounded in findings from a number of different cul- tural groups. In fact, Bosland (1985), an associate of Hofstede’s, tried to examine the associations among the Hofstede (1980) work goals at the individual level across 10 of the Hofstede nations. He found it impossible to extract a metrically equivalent grouping or set of groupings at the individual level from so many different cultural groups. Metrically equivalent groupings of items into constructs are necessary when one wants to compare individuals and indi- vidual processes across different cultural groups (Van de Vijver & Leung, 1997). Procedures for assessing equivalence have been developed for comparisons across two cultural groups, such as Cronbach alphas for item groupings and coefficients of congru- ence for factor structures. However, when these criteria are ex- tended beyond two cultural groups, it becomes very difficult to achieve the levels of metric equivalence normally judged to be adequate in two-culture comparisons. I, for example, pooled and factor analyzed balanced data sets of values from 22 nations, extracting two factors (Bond, 1988). These two factors, however, accounted for only 13% of the common variance. That would seem a paltry amount in a monocultural factor analysis, but how else should one assess such a level of commonality across 2,200 persons from 22 different cultural groups? What should the percentage of accountable variance and the distribution of alphas or of coefficients of congruence look like across persons from such a large set of constituent cultural groups? Cross-cultural psychologists had no statistical ways to assess this question. Confirmatory factor analysis required a standard solution against which the other solutions could be compared. But in multicultural data sets, which culture was to provide the standard solution? The historical operating procedure had been to export a test of some construct usually developed in the United States and use the scoring scheme developed there as the standard. That procedure was labeled imposed etic by Berry (1969) and smacked of intellectual imperialism because it implied that the United States and its people could be used to define the organization of the psychological world. When culture was the object of scientific inquiry, however, openness to all cultural possibilities was a sine qua non. Every culture’s voice must be equally privileged. Hofstede (1980) in the Context of Psychological Discovery Hofstede (1980) provided a richly textured description of what he deemed to be the components of each of his four cultural dimensions. The inclusion of each component was justified by a host of theoretical underpinnings and validational evidence from national indexes. This cataloging of components provided fodder for eager instrumentation by cross-cultural psychologists (e.g., Triandis et al., 1986), just as Hall’s (1976) work on high- and low-context cultures later did for studies of communication across cultures (Gudykunst et al., 1996). Such concerns about instrumenting individual-level compari- sons became ever more pressing with the publication of Markus and Kitayama’s (1991) seminal article on independent and inter- dependent self-construals as organizing constructs in motivation, emotion, and cognition. Their article stimulated the development of measures for independent and interdependent self-construals (e.g., Gudykunst et al., 1996; Singelis, 1994). Comparisons of Japanese and Americans on these sorts of measures yielded the surprise noted by Oyserman et al. (2002) that Japanese were sometimes more individualistic and sometimes less collectivistic than Americans. Given the discipline’s history with the construct of individualism– collectivism and Hofstede’s (1980) by now widely known results, it is perhaps understandable that most of us were surprised by these findings. We expected the Japanese to be less individualistic and more collectivistic than the Americans. 75RECLAIMING THE INDIVIDUAL: COMMENT Comparing Nations in Their Level of Psychological Individualism Oyserman et al. (2002) have content-analyzed the themes found in the multitude of tests developed for individualism and for collectivism at the individual level. Their seven individualism and eight collectivism content domains underscore the complexity and richness of this construct as it has been operationalized in the social sciences. These categories are numerous and their opera- tionalized constructs are correlated with one another to varying degrees. There is a keen need to deconflate and integrate these various measures conceptually. Perhaps, as Oyserman et al. sur- mised, it will be concluded that the omnibus labels individualism and collectivism are too broad and inclusive to be retained. Instead, the discipline will move toward developing theories and conduct- ing research on more focused aspects of individualism or of collectivism. My guess is that the field will in fact abandon these two overfreighted constructs altogether and move toward narrower theories of culture based on more specific constructs. Any one of these constructs could be used to map the psycho- logical world in terms of average level of a construct in a nation’s population, just as Hofstede (1980) mapped the national world. The difficulties will be, first, ensuring adequate metric equivalence for the construct across the populations in the national groups included. Achieving such assurance may require the development of new criteria about what constitutes equivalence and how to test for it, as mentioned earlier (see Van de Vijver & Poortinga, 2001, for a recently developed approach). With equivalent constructs available, however, the field will be well positioned to test for universal relationships and move toward developing universal theories of social behavior (Smith & Bond, in press). A second challenge will be to confront the consequences of the heavy reliance noted by Oyserman et al. (2002) on Likert-type scales to assess declarative self-knowledge. One such consequence is the possibility that various response formats will affect the resulting positioning of the typical person from various national groups. Recent research on this problem by Chen, Lee, and Steven- son (1995) has demonstrated that Chinese tend to use more mod- erate responses but that such a moderation bias does not affect the positioning of the average response of persons from the national groups. Clearly, counterbalanced test items must be used to ensure such an outcome. Some tests, such as those for values, invite a different form of bias, the acquiescence bias, but as mentioned above, this bias must itself be examined for its possibly useful revelations about culture’s influence on psychological processes. Subterranean Cultural Influences? The above fine-tuning of measurement formats may, however, distract the field from a more momentous problem. As Cohen (1997) has pointed out, cultural influences on behavior may be more pronounced precisely where they are less accessible: But, because they are either so over-learned (or were never explicitly taught in the first place), they may bypass conscious processing altogether. Our verbal reports and judgments are most clearly tied to conscious levels of processing, and so they may never get connected with the cultural rules embedded in our preconscious. (p. 126) Our reliance on verbal scales to assess declarative self-knowledge may be disenabling the field from tapping into the more profound reverberations of socialization through a collectivist or individu- alist cultural system. For example, the characteristics of holistic perception and responsiveness to the field theorized to distinguish collectivists from individualists may be more accurately and val- idly assessed by using tests designed to tap these less conscious processes (see e.g., Abel & Hsu’s, 1949, use of Rorschach tests). There has been a resurgence recently in the use of implicit (Mc- Clelland, 1985) and at-a-distance (Winter, 1996) measures of personality, many developed out of the earlier psychoanalytic perspective. Despite improvements in the reliability of their scor- ing (see e.g., Winter & Stewart, 1977), they have yet to be used in cross-cultural work. I expect that their use to measure aspects of individualism– collectivism would yield greater predictive power than Oyserman et al. (2002) pointed out is found with the denotative, declarative measures for self-assessment currently in vogue. At least, they may provide additional, nonoverlapping sources of outcome pre- diction. This improved predictability may include those topic areas frequently studied at present, such as degree of externality in attributions or directness of communication style. They may be even more powerful predictive tools in areas of study that have emerged out of collective cultural concerns, such as interpersonal relatedness (Cheung et al., 2001) or relationship harmony (Kwan, Bond, & Singelis, 1997). The emergence of these more social constructs from collectivist cultural traditions raises the possibility of using differently focused measures, such as ratings of others (Bond, Kwan, & Li, 2000), and different sources of ratings, such as ratings by others (S.-K. Leung & Bond, 2001), for tapping into collectivist processes at the individual level. Surely one of the liberations gained from studying collectivist cultures is to move past the intellectual constraint of the subjectivism arising out of the individualistic cultural legacy (Sampson, 1981). Conclusion In science, as in other endeavors, we as psychologists proceed “through a glass darkly” with ever so human a frame. There seems to me an inevitability in our halting progress toward our current appreciation of how individualism– collectivism is represented at the psychological level: Hofstede (1980) proposed, and we eagerly disposed. The magnitude of his achievement and our need for structure about culture often persuaded us to blind ourselves to important logical and procedural details. Inattentiveness to these details set us on a merry chase but has resulted in our spending considerable time disentangling intellectual puzzles and resolving apparent paradoxes. I believe that some dawning discoveries have emerged from out of this energetic deployment of intellectual curiosity: Individualism– collectivism at the level of nations is not the same as individualism– collectivism at the level of individuals, either conceptually or opera- tionally; individualism and collectivism may be conceptualized and measured as separate, not necessarily bipolar, constructs at the indi- vidual level; the omnibus constructs of individualism and collectivism are multifaceted, permitting many different operationalizations; atten- tion to intellectual developments in psychology from collectivist cul- tures may provide the field with valuable approaches to understanding and measuring individualism and collectivism at the individual level; and this measurement may not be best achieved by relying on explicit, 76 BOND paper-and-pencil measures of declarative self-knowledge. That is a useful yield; it is time to reap the harvest. 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work_2d2dcyrw5badljchn5sm3zakna	----	R. W. Emerson: el poeta-sacerdote de la peregrinación nacionalista de la literatura norteamericana R.W. EMERSON: EL POETA-SACERDOTE DE LA PEREGRINACIÓN NACIONALISTA DE LA LITERATURA NORTEAMERICANA Por J. J. LANERO «Ya dijo entre otros Emerson, que "es fácil vivir en el mundo según la opinión del mundo, y fácil vivir en la soledad según la nuestra; pero el hombre grande es el que en medio de la muchedumbre mantiene con perfecta man- sedumbre la independencia de la soledad"». Miguel de Unamuno. Entre los años 1835 y 1836, Ralph Waldo Emerson escribía Nature que se publicaría en este último. En este pequeño ensayo se recogen el ideario programá- tico emersoniano, los cimientos, pilastras y contrafuertes de su obra posterior. Se cumplen, pues, 150 años de aquél comienzo que iba a encontrar ecos en cada ensayo, conferencia y poema del autor. Es nuestro deseo, a través de esta líneas, repasar con breves palabras, y consecuentemente no en su justa medida, la gran tarea que Emerson desarrolló y supo plasmar en su vida, en su pensa- mento y en el legado de su magisterio. Sirva de homenaje a su memoria y de reconsideración de sus escritos que, todavía hoy, se deslizan por las produccio- nes más variadas de las letras de América. Emerson ha sido una gran ambigüedad en la historia americana. Profeta religioso, idealista filosófico, pragmatista presciente, puritano moderno, místi- co, escéptico, evolucionista, optimista, radical, conservador, pesimista... todas estas clasificaciones, y otras muchas más, le son apropiadas en uno u otro momento de su estado anímico y actitud variables. Cada una parece ser la auténtica, aunque de manera provisional; a medida que profundizamos en su obra nos parece que el autor se nos presenta como si no fuera capaz de encon- trar, ni de comunicar con acierto, su identidad exacta. Abierto a las más am- plias y variadas influencias, en ciertos momentos es tan excesivamente sensible a las ideologías del siglo XIX, incluidas las más exotéricas, que resulta difícil conceptuarlo desde una única línea de pensamiento. Siempre nos plantea una última consideración que nos hace dudar, un «pero» de última hora, una retrac- tación , matización o revisión desprovistas de un compromiso final explícito. Es posible que se considerase a sí mismo como medio de refracción de las múltiples corrientes de pensamiento occidental, de la variedad de tendencias contrapuestas de la vida americana. Tal vez sea esta ánimo de conjunción y 39 reconciliación el que impide definirlo desde una sola perspectiva. Para defen- der esa opción, rechaza cualquier definición concisa y clara. No faltan ocasio- nes en las que llega a desechar la argumentación consecuente. Fruto de esta extraña combinación de amplitud con intensidad, de tradición cultural con ori- ginalidad, nace su americanismo. El complejo tejido ideológico que sustenta a su obra, en ningún momento indica que Emerson escoja de aquí y de allí toda clase de ideas indiscriminadamente, sino que las enhebra con tal cuidado, que el producto final lleva una marca decididamente emersoniana. Emerson está convencido de que una literatura nacional es un producto genérico antes que un cometido privado. Que no se desprende de una estructu- ra impuesta, sino de la expresión fidedigna de la vida americana. El período que va desde 1836 a 1855 asiste con este autor a la peregrinación nacionalista de la literatura norteamericana. Buena parte de su impulso se deriva del opti- mismo que conlleva la expansión democrática de la época, caracterizada por una insistencia en el ideal democrático dentro del campo de las letras. Este vigor nos los transmite a través de «The American Scholar». Así pues, Emerson opta por un idealismo intuitivo; por una armonía de la naturaleza como base de la teoría de la correspondencia en virtud de la cual todas las cosas se convierten en símbolos de la unidad espiritual; por una insis- tencia en la divinidad del alma individual y en la validez de sus visiones de la realidad; por la expresión orgánica de las intuiciones de la razón, superior a la expresión regular y correcta según las normas establecidas; por el desarrollo de las cualidades que el hombre tiene y que puede mejorar, sin necesidad de considerar la prosperidad material o el sentir mayoritario como factores deter- minantes. En sus ensayos sobre Representative Men, identifica su ideal personal con el poeta-sacerdote, una combinación perfecta de elocuencia, valor moral e intui- ción. El término «representative man» conlleva el reconocimiento del lugar que ocupa el hombre corriente en el mundo estético. La democracia literaria emersoniana no busca la descalificación de las obras maestras del pasado, in- tenta animar a los intelectuales jóvenes para que, tomándolas como referencia, las superen. Como ensayista, Emerson no suele practicar la narrativa razonada y lógica. Para desarrollar las ideas utiliza en su lugar metáforas y aforismos. Todos sus ensayos, incluido un número reducido en el que sondea los entre- sijos del desánimo humano, reflejan la firmeza de su carácter. Es un profeta que comunica un mensaje divino, un hombre de sabiduría, inquebrantable por los vientos de crisis externas. En términos calvinistas, su fe es inexpugnable. En lenguaje medieval, es un santo, y en palabras budistas, es un iluminado. Sus conferencias causaron impacto debido a la autoridad de sus propias convic- ciones. El objetivo fundamental de emerson fue transmitir su fe liberadora. Procu- ró compartirla y hacer que los demás dicidieran experimentarla. «The Divinity 40 School Address», en este respecto, es una pieza monumental de su prosa. De- safortunadamente sólo se ha considerado desde este extremo. Se ha considera- do como apertura de su carrera; como la contraversia entre el Unitarismo y el Trascendentalismo; como su doctrina o ausencia de la misma... Su verdadero interés, en nuestra opinión, no sólo está en lo que a la religión respecta, sino también en que constituye una exposición de la destreza de su autor como estratega literario y de su dominio de la forma orgánica, el concepto clave de la pieza es beauty. Y precisamente en el vocabulario es donde descansa el secreto de la táctica que emplea Emerson. Ha medido sus palabras con extre- mo cuidado de principio a fin. Con ellas crea un mundo de los sentidos en el que la religión tradicional es inútil porque la naturaleza suministra sus propios sacramentos. Es evidente que el objeto primordial de Emerson no era funda- mentalmente el de injuriar y descalificar, sino el de vertebrar un mensaje que desarrollaría orgánicamente a lo largo de la obra, terminando con una revisión completa: la obligación y la belleza, el deber y la alegría, la Ciencia y el éxtasis, la divinidad y el mundo, tienen que fundirse en la nueva unidad hipostática de una religión viva del alma. Sabía muy bien que su visión no podía ni debía ser detalladamente idéntica con la de los demás. No obstante, creía que la calidad sería similar. Tres son las ideas que constantemente aparecen en sus ensayos y poemas. Son los puntos cardinales de su visión de la vida: 1. La incapacidad de cualquier forma delimitada de expresión para revelar la verdad absoluta. La incapacidad de toda acción finita para realizar, en su totalidad, la aspiración del alma, la multiplicidad de la verdad y el carácter infinito del alma. En idéntico caso se encuentra. 2. La suprema y única realidad absoluta del espíritu, y 3. La libertad absoluta y la integridad del yo humano individual, valor soberano de la personalidad. Con la primera su visión adquiere amplitud. Con la segunda, profundidad; y con la tercera, su mensaje consigue seriedad profunda. Emerson ensayista debe ser colocado dentro de una tradición que construye su estilo sobre la utilización cuidadosa de piezas sintácticas y la tendencia a equilibrar las oraciones en muchos niveles lingüísticos, con una variedad de recursos fonéticos, léxicos y sintácticos. Aunque sus frases van apareciendo como piedrecitas que arrojamos al agua, la estructura general del lago es fuerte y entrelazada. Podríamos reprocharle que su obra es un murmullo confuso de voces, un revuelto de intenciones, una amalgama de contradicciones, un enfrentamiento entre tirar y empujar; pero paulatinamente, como es el caso de «Experience», «Montaigne» y «Fate», Emerson logra apuntar la nota apropiada y de significación positiva. La obje- ción más frecuente al estilo emersoniano es que es proclive a ordenar las frases de sus obras con la misma ligereza que acostumbramos tener cuando barajamos las cartas. Sin embargo, de nuestro análisis se desprende que, en la mayor par- 41 te de sus obras, adopta una exposición cambiante porque quiere un efecto más poético, más retórico, más complejo; porque, paradójicamente, desea ejercer un control más exacto y exigente. La estructura conceptual imprecisa de buena parte de sus ensayos es, en vista de sus propósitos, una ayuda más que un impedimento para la comunica- ción. Los términos cambiantes, sugestivos, indefinidos, indefinidos, las metáfo- ras..., son sencillamente las imágenes poéticas necesarias para su temática. También tres son los modelos emersonianos del orden universal: 1. La naturaleza impulsada por un principio de la polaridad. Tal es el caso de «Compensation». 2. La naturaleza como movimiento ascendente, a través del sistema de spires of form. Recordemos Nature. 3. La naturaleza como un libro lleno de múltiples significados. Así se pone de manifiesto en el apartado «Language» de Nature. En resumen, el pensamiento de Emerson incluye toda una gama de posibi- lidades; desde la movilidad total: «In the transmission of heavenly waters, eve- ry hose fits every hydrant»1, hasta la esquematización más rigurosa: «Natural objects (...) are really parts of a symmetrical universe, like words of a sentence; and if their true order is found, the poet can read their divine significance orderly as in a Bible»2. Por una parte, anhela reivindicar la máxima libertad para la imaginación; y por otra, mantener la perspectiva de un mundo ordenadamente coherente. Con estos antecedentes, las estructuras que utiliza resultan ser más apropiadas y significativas. Plasma en sus ensayos la misma combinación de disyunción y unidad que observa en la naturaleza. Los logros que Emerson alcanza en el campo de la forma han sido subesti- mados durante largo tiempo. En concreto, especial atención merece su método de composición. Este es un mosaico variado y al mismo tiempo de gran vivaci- dad. Su utilización copiosa de ilustraciones y citas; su enfoque retórico del tema, denotan su peculiar idiosincrasia. Para lo que desea expresar siempre encuentra un estilo apropiado, como si éste fuera inherente a la textura misma de su pensamiento. Tenemos que aceptar la validez, al menos para él, del discurso de estructura abierta que Emerson trata de emplear. Su temperamento le hace ser preferen- temente sugestivo antes que partidario de las afirmaciones categóricas y defini- tivas. Teniendo en cuenta sus sentimientos espirituales, impregnados de múlti- ples dudas, la moral edificante imprecisa parece ser más conveniente que la precisión racional, notoriamente desacreditada en el campo de las creencias. 1. The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. Edward Waldo Emerson, 12 vols., Centenary Edition, Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1903-1904, vol. I, pág. 121. 2. Ibid., vol. VIII, pág. 8. 42 El ensayo «Fate» es la defensa poética de la predestinación. Emerson con- templa la inutilidad terrible, la blasfemia inconsciente de la rebelión ciega. Nunca busca un demoníaco libre albedrío para el hombre, pues lo único que desea es que éste comparta la libertad de un todo dinámico, la aceptación del destino sin necesidad de adoptar una actitud trágica y fatalista. Emerson, al proclamar y defender la confianza en uno mismo, no es ni un rebelde, ni un héroe vano, ni un dios finito; es un amante que cree que su amor le puede reconciliar con la existencia y convertirlo en heredero de todas las maravillas de ésta, incluidas aquéllas que, para los hombres sin amor, son considerablemente perniciosas. Considerando la existencia como espíritu, idea y voluntad, y encontrando en la idea y voluntad el exponente de la esencia del hombre, Emerson nos invita a que seamos sinceros con nosotros mismos, a que conjuntemos nuestro propio ser. A pesar de que su lenguaje puede parecemos que los sugiere, Emerson no desea una evasión mística y contemplativa de la sociedad y de todos sus males. Más pronto o más tarde, introduce la ley moral kantiana, que es su nueva interpretación del concepto puritano del deber moral. La intuición poética es el reconocimiento de nuestra naturaleza divina y de que esta divinidad omni- presente es parte esencial del orden moral. Durante varios años, con el objeto de acreditar mejor la idea de self-relian- ce, buscó un héroe viviente, un hombre completamente libre y verdadero. La búsqueda fue inútil. A pesar de todo, continuó defendiendo la imagen del héroe como el ideal de la persona, como compendio de self-reliance. El héroe, como Emerson, no es un intelectual, filósofo o teólogo destacado. Pero el héroe es una persona comprometida, un hombre de voluntad y de visión instintiva, despreocupado de los asuntos irrelevantes. El héroe no tiene dudas, no teme nada, no posee restricciones, ni sentimientos de inferioridad. El verdadero héroe es primordialmente moral, pero ajeno a los códigos de la moral convencional. Es puro, honesto, hombre de verdades profundas; desde- ña lo artificial y mundano. Un héroe completo es en realidad un superman que no existe. La búsqueda de este héroe también la llevó a cabo en sí mismo. En cualquier caso, todos los hombres eran hombres parciales, facetas del hombre perfecto. Cuando alguno reflejaba su participación de la divinidad, era un hé- roe, aunque no perfecto. La Naturaleza está compuesta por polaridades que Emerson creía que están ingeniosamente equilibradas. Esta creencia puede hacer llevadera nuestra afli- ción, a pesar de que es posible que impida el disfrute del puro placer. Constan- temente repite el tema: a la dulzura, amargura; al mal, bien; a la derrota, la victoria; a la luz, la oscuridad. Emerson contempla este equilibrio en la vida y en el mundo físico. No existe el desastre irreparable, la pérdida completa. Al final se produce la victoria total. La compensation tiene múltiples implicaciones. De todas ellas, Emerson resalta una en especial. Para él la compensation conlleva una igualdad radical. 43 Todos los hombres tienen una mezcla de virtudes y defectos. Estos se conjugan y compensan en el carácter único de aquéllos. Así pues, cada hombre es una creación diferenciada, capaz de hacer algo mejor que todos los demás. La compensation no puede erradicar las diferencias profundas que existen entre los hombres, pero sí las explica y glorifica. Las doctrinas emersonianas de self-reliance son más bien afirmaciones reli- giosas que posturas filosóficas. A pesar de estar fascinado por la filosofía tecni- cista, siempre la contempló en términos literarios. Busca la autenticidad de las actitudes humanas en la filosofía y en la literatura. No obstante, nunca dedica demasiada atención a los argumentos formales, a los problemas técnicos, o a la exposición sistemática. El mundo exterior es fenomenològico, pero con una gran variedad de usos espirituales, como se desprende de Nature. Por encima del entendimiento está la razón, visión directa del alma. Interior en lugar de exterior y perfecta en potencia, la razón es la presencia de la divinidad pura en el hombre; la captación directa de lo verdadero y bello y, lo que es más importante, la bondad suprema que siempre estará en la belleza perfecta. Partiendo del entendimiento, el hombre tiene que luchar para conse- guir la razón. Ha de encontrar una unidad por encima de las abstracciones desgarradas del entendimiento. En sus ensayos, Emerson celebra reiterada- mente este tema doble. Su exposición siempre conlleva dos niveles. El dualis- mo es la guía de Emerson. De vez en cuando le concede visiones de la tierra de promisión. Y aunque nunca le está permitido entrar en ella, puede agrupar estas impresiones momentáneas de forma tal, que podrá disfrutar de sus dones, aunque sólo sean anticipos vagos e irregulares. Normalmente comienza por lo exterior, con el entendimiento práctico, con materia y ciencia; después pasa, aunque nada más sea por un instante breve, al nivel de la razón, de lo univer- sal, del espíritu. Por la interacción de ambos, analiza todas las connotaciones de la vida, procurando evitar las nebulosas efervescentes en sus años de juven- tud, y luchando para librarse del peso abrumador de los intereses prácticos en la madurez. El mundo exterior en su conjunto, pasa a ser subjetivo, una sombre que dimana de la realidad. En su ensayo más pesimista, «Illusions», nos muestra cómo, con gran dificultad, puede apartarse de las ilusiones de la vida y conser- var su visión de la unidad subyacente. Aunque resulta fácil perderse entre las sombras fenomenológicas, éstas anuncian al espíritu que las creó. Cuando nos ocupamos de las sombras, no como imágenes o símbolos de la realidad, sino como realidad, como se entienden científicamente, pierden su significado su- premo. Como cualquier puritano, y con la claridad de cualquier pragmático, Emer- son observa el conocimiento empírico y lo ve metafisicamente vacío, epistemo- lógicamente probable, y moralmente provechoso. Nuestro autor siempre venera a Kant como progenitor más importante de la filosofía trascendentalista y portavoz de la ley moral. 44 Los filósofos alemanes le facilitan el marco de muchas de sus ideas más características. Sus postulados le ayudan a aclarar la naturaleza distintiva del idealismo que profesa. En concreto, Kant abordó las categorías de espacio y tiempo (estética tras- cendental) como condiciones preliminares de todo conocimiento. Con ésto glo- rificaba el aspecto formal, racional y matemático del conocimiento científico. Emerson no posee el rigor lógico de Kant y nunca se preocupa por califica- ciones cuidadas. Como filósofo distinguido que fue, Kant intentó ocuparse de los problemas epistemológicos más importantes de su época. Emerson, como poeta-sacerdote, jamás se compromete con los problemas técnicos de la episte- mología. La sociedad enferma necesitaba la inspiración de un profeta, no los conceptos difíciles de un especialista en abstracciones. Necesitaba la experiencia práctica, la calidad de vida que se vive en la realidad, el nivel existencial donde lo selecto, lo perfecto, la belleza y la bondad son de importancia «trascendental». Este es el Kant que Emerson conoció y amó, el Kant que fundamentalmente confía en su experiencia por encima de cualquier sistema formal de pensamiento. Los seguidores de Kant en la filosofía alemana, especialmente Johann Fich- te y George Hegel, adoptaron parte de la filosofía crítica de Kant y la convir- tieron en una forma romántica y absoluta de idealismo. A través de éste, cele- brado por figuras como Schelling y Coleridge, Emerson conoció a Kant. Mien- tras que el filòsofo alemán había defendido tan sólo un mundo noumenal, o un fundamento metafisico como postulado de la razón práctica, sus seguidores proclamarían esta realidad como la forma suprema de intuición, como la ver- dad gloriosa. En un momento u otro se refieren a un tipo de captación intuiti- va, que todos ellos rechazarían con demasiada ligereza. Emerson, por su parte, admitiría el fundamento intuitivo. Nuestro autor fue, en cierto modo, uno de los idealistas románticos. De Colerdige aprendió el arte de la crítica literaria; de Wordsworth, el arte de la poesía lírica. La unión de estas dos fuerzas, poesía wordsworthiana y la crítica coleridgeana de esta poesía, el amparo de la distinción entre fantasía e imagi- nación, le facilitó una buena base para su teoría de la poesía y le ayudó a dar forma y contenido a sus versos. En lo que a su lenguaje respecta, Emerson reconoce que existe una mente superior o espíritu. En realidad, después de desarrollar su doctrina de self-re- liance, ya no lo pondría en duda. Pero cuando Emerson dice que lo sabe, nunca quiere decir que comprobara anteriormente, o que pudiera demostrar esta profunda intuición. Jamás intenta utilizar la palabra know en el estricto sentido kantiano, o de cualquier otro autor comprometido con la epistemolo- gía. Emerson habla como poeta, desconfiando de la metafísica y de la teología. Le horrorizan las estructuras intelectuales. Su terminología es romántica; su compromiso, práctico o experimental. Los términos románticos son prácti- cos y parecen apropiados para comunicar la calidad inefable de su experiencia 45 casi arrolladura. No obstante, hay momentos en los que utiliza otro lenguaje, ya sean las imágenes del neoplatonismo, o los proverbios prof éticos de los sabios orientales. De este modo destaca la importancia de la experiencia, sien- do secundarios los términos que la expresan. Sin esta puntualización, el pensa- miento y vida emersonianos se nos presentan irremediablemente ambivalentes. Con ella, se produce una simpatía extraordinaria entre su trascendentalismo ascendente y su moralidad práctica. Con la seguridad propia de un profeta inspirado, Emerson proclama la rea- lidad del espíritu. Es más, no es tan ambiguo en su definición como en el caso de self-reliance. Prefiere hablar del espíritu con la expresión parcial de la razón humana, o con la intuición poética de sus héroes culturales. Hay momentos en los que insinúa que el espíritu, o cualquiera de los más de veinte sinónimos que utiliza para nombrar esta realidad suprema, apoya, a modo de unidad dominante pero siempre parcialmente impenetrable, sus variadas expresiones humanas. El espíritu vive y desciende sobre la persona individual. De lo que se deriva un panteismo, pero extremadamente individualista. En ambos casos, comtem- pla al espíritu como fuerza creadora libre, activa, e impulsiva. No es necesaria- mente una voluntad abstracta que se hace realidad utilizando las mentes indivi- duales, sino que son las personas libres las que originalmente ejecutan su desti- no personal en el ejercico de una cualidad corriente pero divina. Este hincapié en el individuo ayuda a instaurar un equilibrio inmejorable; porque si nos refe- rimos a la mente creadora, si cada persona actúa libremente y confía en sí misma, desechará las intuiciones ajenas, para producir únicamente obras exce- lentes. El idealismo emersoniano más intenso y metafórico está recogido en el ensayo «The Over-Soul». Las afirmaciones más destacables del over-soul están siempre mezcladas con una absorción corolaria con la naturaleza. El vocable nature es sumamente ambiguo en la lengua inglesa. De este pormenor saca provecho Emerson. Por lo menos utiliza el término de cuatro formas distintas. Cada una de ellas con una significación definida: a) En un contexto limitado, el autor se refiere sencillamente a lo exterior; los árboles y montañas de New England. A este nivel, su entusiasmo va cre- ciendo con los años, pero en ningún momento es comparable con el de Henry David Thoreau. b) En su utilización más amplia, la escribe con mayúsculas y la considera como sinónimo de Espíritu y, por consiguiente, como receptáculo de toda la existencia. c) En un tratamiento posterior, la convierte en la fuerza o poder supremo que sostiene al universo. 46 d) Pero con más frecuencia, y más importante en su vocabulario, nature significa el conjunto completo de fenómenos, de apariencias, y así, en lenguaje convencional, el universo físico en su totalidad. Con esta última acepción, Emerson estima que la naturaleza es el conjunto ordenado de ideas de una mente divina. Desafortunadamente, la mayor parte de los hombres son incapaces de captar la divinidad inmanente que nos brinda la naturaleza, y no logran ver más allá de la imagen de lo real. Cuando se contempla a la luz de la razón, el velo fenomenològico de la naturaleza desaparece para revelar el espíritu. La naturaleza se convierte en ayuda para la meditación, en una senda de sabiduría, en un prólogo de la verdad suprema y de la belleza más perfecta. Emerson está enamorado del ser, no del universo material. Esa idea de correspondencia, subyacente entre lo espiritual y material, es fructífera para la definición y explicación; es parte de la médula de la metafísica emersoniana. La correspondencia opera para expresar la conexión estética y filosófica que gobierna la transformación de un objeto o de una idea en arte. Nuestro autor espiritualiza la naturaleza. Este es su impulso primario. Este espiritualismo conduce frecuentemente al volunrarismo extático, al complejo de Dios en el hombre. Culmina en su alma afable, en la que surgen energías inmortales a borbotones, la naturaleza eterna. Emerson es un moralista. Nunca desea dejar desamparada a la humanidad activa, voluntariosa y luchadora. En el ensayo ascendente y proclive al misticis- mo, «Circles», los peldaños de esa escalera que nos eleva son «actions; the new prospect is power»3. Otro rasgo esencial del pensamiento emersoniano es su tendencia, irresisti- ble y omnipresente, a ver las cosas en su totalidad, a ver todo en relación con el conjunto completo del que forma parte, en relación con la causa de la que es efecto, en relación con la idea de la que es expresión. En ningún momento creyó que los impulsos primordiales, los resortes deci- sivos de la acción pudieran comprimirse en conceptos intelectuales. Siempre hay un nivel existencial más básico que las abstracciones del pensamiento. To- davía más, al creer tan profundamente en un tipo de genio poético, en una comprensión intuitiva que concede a cada hombre una visión pequeña pero perfecta de la verdad, no podía desechar al hombre como criatura trágicamente inútil, lleno de propósitos, pero vacío de significado. Emerson sugiere una completa diversidad de métodos de razonamiento. Que cada mente tenga el suyo. No alberga grandes deseos de encontrar el método más fructífero. Su amor por la diversidad hace que no repare el coste de lo inútil. 3. Ibid., vol. II, pág. 305. 47 Nada anheló más en su vida que ser un gran poeta. Su vida giró en torno a la veneración de la musa literaria. El conocimiento conceptual, herramienta útil pero desunida, ha de estar subordinado al símbolo unificador del poeta, que no sólo es bello, sino también verdadero. Porque dada su moralidad casi inna- ta, Emerson tiene que conjuntar verdad y belleza en armonía con la bondad. Y así lo hace gracias a su amplio concepto del arte. Sus postulados artísticos son su contribución más original y coherente al pensamiento americano. Emerson merece, todavía hoy, el reconocimiento de haber articulado la primera estética netamente americana. Esta posee una estructura cíclica com- puesta de tres frases: proceso creador, obra de arte, y experiencia estética. Es una organización inherente a la spiral form emersoniana. El misterio de la imaginación creadora, lo interpreta Emerson como un proceso que va inexorablemente desde la afluencia de la inspiración hasta la imagen o acción creadora del símbolo, hasta la expresión. Al afirmar que la expresión surge de la inspiración de una manera tan natural como la acción de respirar; se adelanta al tipo de interpretación que hacen algunos críticos mo- dernos desde una perspectiva psicológica. Los aspectos psicológicos que distingue en la experiencia estética —memo- ria, reacción cinética, y el subconsciente—, le convierten en precursor de la teoría que defiende que sólo en la psicología se pueden descubrir las fórmulas apropiadas para el placer artístico. Al igual que los puritanos, resalta las normas estéticas de armonía, simetría y proporción. Además, como característica de su perspectiva evolutiva, resalta los movimientos rítmicos. Estas son las propiedades de la realidad ideal y del hombre en su mejor estado. Cuando el hombre se abre a la realidad ideal y la llega a poseer de manera intuitiva, la capta como si constituyera el reflejo más auténtico de su personalidad. Esta captación suprema y beatífica podría deno- minarse intuición poética, porque está envuelta en sensaciones y no es posible reproducirla en conceptos concluyentes. La realidad, según la observa una per- sona responsable, es verdadera, bella y buena; está última cualidad conlleva el atributo culminante. Todos los hombres poseen la capacidad necesaria para esta intuición. Por consiguiente, todos pueden disfrutar de la belleza. La estética, el aspecto más pasivo de la belleza, tan sólo requiere una acti- tud responsable, un arquetipo de intuición, pues el verdadero genio no perma- necerá silencioso ante el trono de la verdad y de la belleza. Hará públicos sus intentos de crear verdad y belleza; el esfuerzo activo y original para expresar y comunicar la intuición poética es arte y requiere talento. El lugar de la belleza no está nunca en el objeto del arte. Emerson, al insistir en ésto, se acerca a las posturas platónicas. El objeto artístico, desde el nivel modesto de la escultura hasta el sublime de la poesía (jerarquía emerso- niana), es una cuestión de enfoque, una abstracción de lo real. Compendia, selecciona, destaca; pero en todos los casos siempre es un derivado. La gran galería es en todo momento la naturaleza. 48 En lo que se refiere al nivel poético, digamos que le poesía de Emerson, en su conjunto, es prosa encorsetada en rima y métrica. En cualquier poema es posible constatar su esfuerzo por escribirlo como si fuera un producto de la inspiración. Escuchamos el eco expresivo de una intensidad ordenada, pero lo único que vemos es una luz mortecina reflejada en una superficie pedregosa. Acertadas nos parecen las palabras de John Morley cuando escribe que «Taken as a whole, Emerson's poetry is of that kind which springs, not from excitement of passion of feeling, but from an intellectual demand for intense and sublimated expression»4. Es evidente que Emerson reconocía la pobreza formal de su poesía, su rigidez monumental, la frialdad de su lenguaje, su incapacidad para expresar sus pasiones emocionales. Las formas del verso empañan su pensamiento por- que tenía que adaptarlo a alguna rima antes de empezar a exponerlo. Enmude- ce en el momento que todo su ser exige una unión más íntima entre el yo y el lenguaje. De todo lo que Emerson esperaba conseguir con la poesía —cantidades ingentes de detalles para edificar una casa moral; trazar decidida, rápida, pero también detalladamente, la línea que nos lleve a una especie de pasión espas- módica una vez completado el pensamiento, con un reflujo suave al final, para señalar la conclusión; y consecuentemente, un efecto sobre el lector semejante al culmen en la naturaleza—, no pudo lograr nada si excluímos su prosa. El poder de Emerson reside en su prosa. Su teoría poética es en realidad la teoría de su prosa. Aquí es donde es radicalmente original. Concibe el lenguaje como proceso antes que como conclusión. El lenguaje es el fruto de la acción mental que encuentra con acierto las palabras adecuadas para expresar su expe- riencia. Los ensayos emersonianos nos ofrecen un proceso ideal. En ellos no encon- tramos una confirmación racional, sino una sucesión de revelaciones y respues- tas, la exfoliación entrelezada de hechos, sentimiento e ideas. Emerson creía que el objeto artístico es el mejor símbolo del hombre, capaz de comunicar con claridad la realidad al hombre sencillo y al culto. Edu- ca para la belleza. Reconcilia al hombre con la naturaleza o realidad, y los armoniza. El arte es el mejor lenguaje del hombre; pero el lenguaje va cam- biando con la historia de la humanidad. En manos del verdadero genio, que combina intuición, talento y fervor moral, revela la grandeza del alma humana en cada momento de la historia. Arraigado en un contexto histórico, y partici- pando en las necesidades del momento, el arte es una revelación antes que originalidad sorprendente. Las técnicas, las formas de ejecución cambiantes y convencionales, la 4. JOHN M O R L E Y : «Introductory» a Miscellanies, by Ralph Waldo Emerson, New York: Mac- millan and co., Ltd., 1896, pág. XXXII. 49 4 temática infinitamente variada, son meros instrumentos. El objetivo principal del arte no se puede aislar y circunscribir a un objeto. Así pues, la finalidad de todo arte es la obra suprema de arte, redimir al hombre; y por encima de éste, una sociedad en la que todos los hombres son grandes obras artísticas. Para Emerson, el objetivo supremo es que el arte no se detenga en la parte exterior de los objetos, sino que llegue a ser práctico y moral; que no descanse hasta que «[it] stands in connection with the conscience,» y haga que los «poor and uncultivated feel that it addresses them with a voice of lofty cheer»5. La clasificación que Emerson hace de sí mismo, como poeta-sacerdote no tiene parangón. Hijo espiritual del puritanismo de New England, se sintió im- pulsado en su vida por la temática de sus obras. Ambas están coronadas por un equilibrio provechoso y fecundo entre éxtasis poético, erudición intelectual y fervor moral. 5. The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. cit., vol. II, pág. 363. 50 
work_2dizwgtlwva6riqmxkobhns3ty	----	CREMATION, AN EXPRESSION OF LIFE STYLE THOMAS E. SPENCER) Ball State University An abiding problem in all societies is the disposal of dead bodies. in Western societies the customary mode is earth burial. But an alternative mode, cremation, is available------to those who choose it. Because cremation requires a specific choice, the assumption would seem justified that whatever particular reason an individual would give for his preference for cremation, it would be consonant with his style of living for which disposal of the body is so-to-speak the final expression. As an expressive movement, it is also a form of communi- cation, a kind of final message to the world, of what sort of person he was and how he intended to be remembered. This assumption is in accordance with Alfred Adler's understanding that "the individual is both the picture and the artist, .. the artist of his own personality" (I, p. 177), in accordance with his "life style" (I, p. 174). In the present paper we intend to show that the choice of crema- tion itself and the various particular reasons for this choice, are indeed consonant with the individual's particular life style. For this purpose we have collected several cases of well-known persons who chose to be cremated, and are presenting them according various rea- sons for their choice. DESIRE TO SHOCK Whereas interment is relatively undramatic because of its wide- spread usage, burning is, in a sense, spectacular. The desire to capture attention, to be dramatic and shocking unto death, could be at the heart of an individual's choice of cremation, especially in connection with the varied possibilities for disposing of the ashes. A person who believes he belongs rightfully in the limelight may choose cremation as an appropriate mode of still holding people's attention in death. Kitty Rockwell, known as "Klondike Kate," made a reputation by doing the unusual thing: perhaps not as a sincere nonconformist, but because she wanted to make other people gasp. Her request that she be cremated and her ashes scattered on IFor reprints write to author, 8IO Teachers College, Ball State University, Muncie, Indiana 47306. 60 CREMATION, AN EXPRESSION OF LIFE STYLE 61 the winds of the High Desert (10, p. 289ff.) possibly was intended to shock the public one last time. When Damon Runyan, the versatile writer and correspondent, died of cancer, he left instructions that his body be burned and his ashes scattered over the Times Square area of Manhattan (17, p. 30). Captain Eddie Rickenbacker went up in an airplane and fulfilled Runyan's wish. To the newsmen this was good copy, to the hordes of Broadwayites it was a typical Runyan gesture, to the layman it was shocking: Maybe Runyan intended it to be all three. The desire to shock is closely related to the desire to hurt. If a person feels that he has been treated unfairly by others, and if he senses that the public recoils from cremation, he might well choose burning to "get back at" his adversaries and remind them of their injustices. Perhaps this is why Sacco and Vanzetti, the foreign-born radicals, requested cremation. Accused of a murder in Braintree, Massachusetts, in 1920, the men were able to produce several wit- nesses who had seen them elsewhere on the day of the crime. Con- victed nonetheless, Sacco and Vanzetti were sentenced to die in the electric chair. In their last statements to the court they made it plain that they considered themselves scapegoats for a society that was in toleran t toward all radicals (2 I, pp. 240-247). Perhaps it was a father's desire to punish his offspring that caused the artist W. Channing Cabot to direct his ashes to be taken by one of his children and scattered on the old Cabot place, the urn to be cast into Nantucket Sound (15). Did actress Adele Ritchie use n1urder of a friend, suicide, and cremation as triple means of getting back at a socialite who had invited the friend to a dinner but had pointedly told Miss Ritchie not to attend (I3)? DESIRE TO SHOW TOUGHNESS AND BRAVERY Those who have witnessed a cremation, talk about its horrors. One can tell himself that the cadaver is unfeeling, that burning it is similar to burning a piece of paper; but when a human-shaped figure is thrust into a furnace heated to supra-Fahrenheit temperatures, strong men blanch and women turn away. According to Jessica Mitford, some funeral directors discourage burning by describing the gruesomeness of the cremation process (I I, pp. 166-167). It seems plausible that a person who takes pride in his bravery and toughness would select the "manly" method of disposal. THOMAS E. SPENCER Consider the case of Caryl Chessman, the notorious "red light bandit" of Los Angeles. Sentenced to the gas chamber for sexual indignities against a number pf women, Chessman boasted that he never once lost his nerve and composure during the twelve years he was imprisoned. Shortly before his execution he denied "any newly developed animal fear of death" (20). Although he expressed a desire to live, Chessman spoke freely and unemotionally about his impend- ing execution. He requested that his body be burned-perhaps another gesture to advertise his absolute courage; a gesture similar to the carefree grin he showed as he was strapped into the execution chair (4). Did Wyatt Earp, the legendary brave man of the West, feel that the reputation he had established in life must be upheld in death, and that cremation would be a better testimony than an earth burial? Did Sammy Mandell, Freddie Welsh, and Kid McCoy, the boxers, select cremation for similar "he-man" reasons? SELF-EFFACEMENT At the other extreme, some people constantly look for means of self-effacement. They feel inferior in human company, and wish to fade into oblivion, destroy their identity, and literally become non persons. Such an individual would certainly shrink from having his body embalmed, treated with cosmetics, and placed on exhibition during a funeral and interment. He would rather be put quickly into a cremation furnace. And although some people have the spot where their ashes are deposited marked by a stone, he would prefer to go into complete oblivion. Whittaker Chambers, the controversial editor-informer, seems to match the foregoing description. An introvert, Chambers all his life held a negative, critical attitude toward himself. He felt that he lacked genuine talent, and often called attention to his own weak- nesses. The Alger Hiss case brought much criticism upon Chambers, and even though he insisted that he had told the truth, he half- blamed himself and questioned his own motives. The very book he wrote as an explanation of the case may be taken as an example of self-flagellation (3). When he died, the undertaker was waiting and Chambers was secretely cremated immediately. The desire to destroy one's identity might take a milder form. A basic self-consciousness, rather than self-hatred, could cause a person CREMATION, AN EXPRESSION OF LIFE STYLE to recoil from the usual kind of burial. We would expect a self-con- scious man to be as self-conscious about his corpse as he was about his person. It is therefore not strange that the poet Edwin Arlington Robinson (8), whose tendency toward introversion caused him to re- tire in despondency for long periods of time, chose the "private" means of cremation. PRESERVING ONE'S IDENTITY Where one person uses cremation to destroy his identity, another may use it to preserve his identity. Cremation makes it possible for a person to escape the remoteness and uniformity of the cemetery, to be intimately close to a loved one----in a closet or on a mantel, or even carried about in a package. Many persons have attempted to continue their close ties after death by specifying that their ashes be turned over to a friend or loved one. The ashes of Annie Oakley, the amazing markswoman, were kept by a friend until soon after her own death, her ailing husband, Frank Butler, died. Then her ashes were buried near his body in the Brock Cemetery at Greenville, Ohio (9, pp. 23 0 - 2 3 1 ). Apparently Minnie Maddern Fiske chose cremation both because of a basic self-consciousness and because she wished to retain her identity. A newspaper account asserted that the actress "did not wish strangers to see her after death, and she wanted her friends to re- member her as they had known her" (14). She directed that her body not be viewed before its disposal, and her ashes were retained by her husband. ROMANTIC IMPULSES One of the recurrent themes in romantic literature is the identifica- tion of human beings with nature. It is exemplified in the writings of Thomas Wolfe, who stood at the edge of the Black Forest and fancied that in the deep of the woods, perhaps in the trees themselves, his soul was born. Ralph Waldo Emerson stood on a knoll near Concord and felt completely absorbed in nature. Recalling his experience, he wrote: Standing on the bare ground, - my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space, - all mean egotism vanishes. 1 become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental (7, p. 10). THOMAS E. SPENCER Neither Emerson nor Wolfe was cremated, but it is easy to imagine a person's using the cremation process to express a mystical impulse similar to theirs. Perhaps President Wilson's Secretary of the In- terior, Franklin K. Lane, throbbed with an Emersonian feeling of vastness, of identification with the far-flung universe, and thus re- quested that his ashes be scattered to the winds at the top of El Capitan Park in the Yosemite Valley (12). Why did Clark Millikan, professor of aeronautics, have his ashes scattered over the Painted Canyon (19), while Clarence Darrow stipulated that his be spread over the Jackson Park Lagoon in Chicago (I6)? Was there a mystical impulse behind Charles Coburn's request that part of his ashes be scattered "along the Mohawk Trail from the highest peak between Albany and Fitchburg, Massachusetts" (I8)? We would expect Irvin S. Cobb to make a last attempt at cynical humor in his will; perhaps he shared Wolfe's thoughts when he in- structed the undertaker to spread his ashes around the roots of a dog- wood sapling in Paducah, Kentucky's Oak Grove Cemetery, opining that "should the tree live, that will be monument enough for me" (5, p. 250). Senator Henry C. Hansbrough of North Dakota had his ashes scattered beneath an elm tree on the United States Capitol grounds (2, p. 1004), and Thorstein Veblen ordered his to be thrown "into the sea, or into some sizable stream running to the sea.. " (6, p. 504). AESTHETIC SENSITIVITY George Bernard Shaw is reported to have said: "Dead bodies can be cremated. All of them ought to be; ... earth burial, a horrible practice, will some day be prohibited by law, ... (partly) because it is hideously unaesthetic...." (II, pp. 162-163). Many people agree with Shaw. Rather than having their bodies placed under the ground to endure "the unspeakable horrors of decay" (II, p. 167), they prefer to use the "clean, beautiful method of resolution by incandescence" (I I, p. 167). Further, they believe that the public would find cremation more aesthetically pleasing than interment, and that the practice would reduce somewhat the space and sanitation problems. Jessica Mitford has expressed the opinion that cremation "appeals to the nature lover and the poetic minded" (II, p. 161). Indeed, one can easily see this motivation in the cases of Carl Sandberg, Amy Lowell, Sara Teasdale, and Joaquin Miller, all of whom were cre- CREMATION, AN EXPRESSION OF LIFE STYLE 65 mated, as well as the architect Ludwig Mies van der Rohe and the sculptor William Zorach. Could the composer Sigmund Romberg have felt that the slow decaying process was incongruous with the rhythm of existence and that the speedier method of burning was more fitting? DESIRE TO BE AN ENLIGHTENED PERSON The final motive to be discussed is the desire to be a reasonable, progressive, enlightened person. This kind of desire involves a willing- ness to abandon tradition and convention whenever indicated, and to solve one's problems in a usefully creative and practical way. If a person is aware of the space and sanitation problems, or discerns that earth burial has become so ritualized that it is essentially meaningless and offensive, he will be more likely to reject interment and choose the alternative of cremation. It seems legitimate to attribute this motivation for cremation to a number of individuals whose willingness to depart from tradition and approach life's problems with zest and imagination is well known; Albert Einstein, the physicist; Sigmund Freud, Alfred Adler, and Wolfgang Kohler, psychologists; Robert G. Ingersoll, the lawyer; Charles Sanders Peirce, Williams James, and John Dewey -"the great triumvirate of American pragmatism"; and Ilsley Boone, the Baptist clergyman who was a cofounder of nudism in America. SUMMARY In Western societies cremation is not the rule and must be speci- fically requested. In accordance with Alfred Adler's understanding of the unity and self-consistency of the individual, his life style, we assume that a person's final important choice, of cremation, would be somehow expressive of his life style in general, a final communication to the world, so-to-speak, of what he stood for and what he wanted to be remembered for-or that he wanted to be forgotten. By the examples of a number of well-known persons who have been cremated we have attempted to show that the choice of cremation can indeed be consonant with a variety of different personal character- istics: desire to shock the world, desire to show toughness and bravery, self-effacement, desire to preserve one's identity, romantic impulses, aesthetic sensitivity, and finally desire to be a progressive and en- lightened individual. 66 THOMAS E. SPENCER REFERENCES J. ADLER, A. The Individual Psychology of Alfred Adler. Edited by H. L. & Rowena R. Ansbacher. New York: Basic Books, 1956. 2. Biographical Directory of the American Congress, I774-I96I. Washington: U. S. Govern. Print. Off., 1961. ]. CHAMBERS, W. Witness. New York: H. Wolff, I9p. 4. Chicago Tribune, May 3, J960, p. I. 5. COBB, ELISABETH. My wayward parent. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1945. 6. DORFMAN, J. Thorstein Veblen and his America. New York: Viking, 1935. 7. EMERSON, R. W. Complete works. Vol. L Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, 1903. 8. HAGEDORN, H. Edwin Arlington Robinson. New York: Macmillan, 1938. 9. HAVIGHURST, W. Annie Oakley of the Wild West. New York: Macmillan, 1954· 10. LUCIA, E. Klondike Kate. New York: Hastings House, 1962. [I. MITFORD, JESSICA. The American way of death. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1963. 12. New York Times, May 20, 1921, p. 15. []. New York Times, April 26, 1930, p. 2. [4. New York Times, February 18, 1932, p. 21. 15. New York Times, July 29, 1932, p. 16. 16. New York Times, March 20, 19]8, Sec. 2, p. 9. [7. New York Times, December 19, 1946. [8. New York Times, September 3, 1961, p. 60. [9· New York Times, January 3, 1966, p. 3· 20. Psychology Today, 1969, 2, NO.9, p. 41. 21. SANN, P. The lawless decade. Greenwich, Conn.: Fawcett, 1971. 
work_2gjavkxhqzfzbk7ujls72mt4ee	----	Türk Kütüphaneciliği 28, 2 (2014), 147-148 Editörden / Editorial Gündemin İçinden Concerning the Agenda Agenda put under the scopes of 50th Library Week, Soma mine disaster, censorship, book bans, social media bans, 450th birth anniversary of Shakespeare, 100th birth anniversary of Turkish socio-realist writer Orhan Kemal, deceases of Marquez and Mr. Ahmet Gürlek who is legend director of İzmir National Library in the editorial. Değerli okurlarımız, 19. yüzyıl yazarlarından Ralph Waldo Emerson eğitim programlarını yorumlarken “Halkı öyle bir eğitmeliyiz ki gırtlağımıza sarılmasın. Onu öyle pasif hale getirelim ki bize karşı çıkmasın” demiştir. Cumhuriyet devrimleri itaatkar halkın aydınlanmasında egemenlere, feodal yapıya karşı önemli kazanımlar elde edilmesinin önünü açmış, demokrasi ve özgürlüğün gelişmesi için gerekli ortamı hazırlamıştı. Vahşi kapitalizmin ortaya çıkardığı ideolojiler sonucu geriye dönüş eğilimleri hız kazanmış; bireysel kimlikler ve Cumhuriyet ile kazandığımız değerler geliştirilememiş ve bu değerler yavaş yavaş yok olmaya başlamıştır. 50. yılını kutladığımız Kütüphane Haftası’nı içine alan yılda meydana gelen Soma maden faciası taşeronlaşma ideolojisinin doğal bir sonucuydu. Her zaman olduğu gibi toplumda saman alevi gibi bir tepki yarattı ve resmi ağızlardan konuya ilişkin açıklamalar, yorumlar yapıldı. Kaderci bir anlayışla inşa edilen maden ocaklarında kaybettiğimiz Can’ları en yetkili ağızlar 19. yüzyıl istatistikleriyle karşılaştırarak açıklamaya çalıştı. “En son” yaşanılan bu facia bilgi toplumunun ne kadar gerisinde kaldığımızın en somut göstergesi. Öncekilerde olduğu gibi bir iki kişi tutuklandı ve defter kapatılmak üzere. Tam bir ortaoyunu! Evet, bu yaşananları kitabı kutsallaştırmış fakat henüz okumamış bir toplumun doğal sonucu olarak açıklayabiliriz. Yusuf’u, Feride’yi, Raif Bey’i, Nesibe’yi, Memed’i, Köse Hasan’ı, Agah Bey’i, Zübük’ü ve nicelerini “okumadan”; başka dünyalara girmeden; başkalarının yaşamlarına ortak olmadan; kendi yaşamımızın dışına çıkmadan başka dönemlere, toplumlara, yaşamlara ilişkin bilgi sahibi olamayacağımızı, insanca değerleri içselleştiremeyeceğimizi, empati duygumuzu geliştiremeyeceğimizi ve sonuç olarak bilgi toplumuna dönüşmenin mümkün olmayacağını artık görmek ve anlamak gerekiyor! Bununla birlikte olaylara toplum tarafından verilen tepki “etik değerlerimizi” de yitirmeye başladığımızın önemli bir göstergesi. Oya Baydar, “Çöplüğün Generali” adlı yapıtında “...İnsanlar dertsiz başlarına dert almak istemiyorlar doğal olarak. Gördüklerini görmezden gelmek bu toplumda erdem sayılan bir alışkanhk.. .3 M virüsü. 3 Maymun mu yani. Duymadım, görmedim, konuşmadım.” sözleriyle sanki günümüz Türkiye’sini anlatıyor Olaylar çabuk unutuluyor ve kanıksanıyor. Gündemin İçinden Concerning the Agenda148 Editörden / Editorial Sosyal ağların yasaklanarak halkın okuma, haber alma ve iletişim kurma özgürlüğünün elinden alınması ya da kısıtlanması neredeyse bir asır önce yazılmış 1984 adlı romanın 21. Yüzyıl Türkiye’sinde gerçeğe dönüşmesinin izdüşümü. Youtube hala kapalı / yeni açıldı! Sansürler, kitap yasakları. Bu olgular kütüphanelerimizin kapısındaki tehlikenin en önemli habercileri! Bu nedenle halkın aydınlanmasında önemli bir potansiyel güce sahip kütüphanelerimizin sahibi bizler mesleki ahlak ilkelerimizi tekrar gözden geçirmeli, mesleki örgütlerimizle bütünleşmeli ve topluma verdiğimiz hizmetlerle aydınlanmanın mimarları olmalıyız. Emerson’un söylediğinin aksine halkı öyle okutmalıyız ki, “karanlığın üstüne bir güneş gibi doğabilsin.” 19. yüzyılın sonlarına doğru doğmuş Brecht’le seslenmek istiyorum: “Rica ederiz, ‘olağan’ demeyin hemen her gün olup bitenlere! Kargaşanın hüküm sürdüğü, kanın aktığı, düzensizliğin at oynattığı, keyfiliğin yasalaştığı yerde demeyin sakın: ‘Bunlar olağandır.’” Değerli okurlarımız, İçinde bulunduğumuz 2014 yılı, Türk ve dünya edebiyatından iki önemli yazarın çeşitli etkinlikler ile anıldığı bir yıl. Türk edebiyatında toplumsal gerçekçi yazının büyük isimlerinden, Orhan Kemal’in 100.; dünya edebiyatına yön vermiş Shakespeare’nin 450. yaşı. Bununla birlikte 2014, iki üretken insanın aramızdan ayrıldığı bir yıl oldu: Meslektaşımız Ahmet Gürlek ve büyülü gerçekçiliğin en büyük temsilcisi Marquez. İnsanlığa yapıtlarıyla daha nice yıllar ışık tutacak bu üç edebiyatçıyı; mesleğimize önemli derecede katkı sağlamış, meslektaşımız Ahmet Gürlek’i ve Soma’da kaybettiğimiz “301” emekçiyi sevgi ve saygıyla anıyoruz. Yazımı sonlandırırken, 50. yılını kutladığımız kütüphane haftasının ardından yayınlanan bu sayımızla Türk Kütüphaneciliği editör grubuna dönüşümlü olarak editoryal bölümde yazmanın kapısını açan; bunun ötesinde dergimizin düzenli olarak yayınlanmasını büyük bir özveri ve titizlikle koordine eden Dr. M. Tayfun Gülle’ye saygı ve şükranlarımı sunarım. Değerli okurlarımız, dergimizin Haziran sayısı bilimsel ve uygulama örneklerinin yer aldığı yazıların yanı sıra düşündüren, tebessüm ettiren özgün yazı ve haberlerle dopdolu zengin bir içeriğe sahip. Yaz mevsimini yaşadığımız bu günlerde kitap raflarındaki dostlarla daha yakından vakit geçirmeniz dileğiyle saygılar sunar, aydınlık günler dileriz. Atakan Aydın 
work_2ksxkqeijzgrdl7vq5jt3fycsi	----	INTEGRATING MEDICAL AND PSYCHOLOGICAL TREATMENT FOR SEXUAL PROBLEMS: THE PSYCHE AND THE SOMA Jules S. Black, FRANZCOG, FRCOG 2 Rae Street, Randwick, NSW, AUSTRALIA 2031 ❄ ❄ ❄ INTRODUCTION This year marks my 40th year as a doctor. What I plan to do is take those 40 years of experiences, which upon reflection are wide, very varied and turbulent, and to use them as a metaphor depicting the integration of medical and psychological treatments, the need for it and what in my view still has to be achieved. One always remembers the first day as a doctor. I was appointed to one of Sydney’s largest teaching hospitals and was rostered on extra duty on my first evening in the Emergency Ward. Fully expecting to make some sort of brilliant diagnosis that first night, but instead amongst the usual pedestrian fare one sees in Emergency, I saw a woman in her thirties. I can’t even remember what her presenting complaint was but it was something fairly minor. However during that consultation she obviously sensed she could talk to me and out of the blue, she shifted gears and said, “Doctor, I’ve never had an orgasm.” Our six years of formal medical training had not prepared me for that question, let alone the answer. The only time sexuality was mentioned concerned pædophilia and bestiality during our Psychiatry lectures in 4th year. However, I had seen this lack of coverage of human sexuality in our course as deficient and downright weird. I had taken upon myself to read T.H. van de Velde’s “Ideal Marriage”1 in 3rd year, a book which by that time in all the history of book publishing was second only in sales to the Holy Bible. So, I was able to muddle through with that patient and not back away from the answer. In retrospect, that incident that very first night on duty influenced my life, and kindled my interest in sexuality, sex therapy as well as the sex education of health professionals and general public alike. I decided there was a rôle I could play, a contribution I could make to my chosen profession. Then I made the next discovery. No one listens to a junior or senior intern or house officer! I had to wait until I was awarded my MRCOG in 1970 to give me the credibility I needed. Upon returning to Australia from my postgraduate work in England, I started to raise the consciousness of my specialist colleagues and the Profession at large towards our responsibilities regarding the sexual difficulties of our patients. After all, if there is no sexual function, there is no Obstetrics & Gynæcology. I’m not referring just to the obvious topic of Obstetrics, but there would be no miscarriages, abortions, STD’s, contraception and far less abnormal cytology & colposcopy, hysterectomies and repairs as examples. Our whole specialty depends on sexuality.2 I persuaded the Editor of the Australian & New Zealand Journal of Obstetrics & Gynæcology, one of the world's mainstream O&G journals, to accept the first article js black the psyche and the soma page 2 ever on sexuality in 1974.2 Then I badgered the Professor of O&G at Sydney University to include questions on sexuality in the Final exam, which for my sins he made me construct. He was persuaded by my argument that the medical student will only learn something if it is examinable. Students have so much to learn that if a subject is not examined they perceive it can’t be important. I did the same thing for the MRACOG exams. However these 40 years have taught me many things, and in this context, when it comes to tackling their patients’ sexual dysfunctions and difficulties, I still find resistance amongst my colleagues. I have reached the conclusion that in the same way we can’t all be equally comfortable with major gynæ cancer surgery or microsurgery, IVF techniques or delivering babies, not every one is comfortable with sexual counselling. I will return to this subject in my concluding remarks. The best example I ever had was having driven into the car park of my medical centre one morning about 20 years ago, a fellow obstetrician & gynæcologist was also arriving. We had gone through medical school around the same time, we were friends and had even socialised in our student days. He asked me if I was “still doing…” he couldn’t even get the word out after about three attempts, so I helped him by saying, “Sex therapy?” and he said, “Yes”. I said, “I cannot see how one can divorce the whole of O&G from the sex act,” and he replied, “I do my best to.” I have pondered other positive and negative medical influences in those formative years of mine. One of the “giants” in Gynæcology was T.N.A. Jeffcoate, and his “Principles of Gynæcology”3 was our major text on the subject. Sir Norman really impressed me because on Page one of his very first chapter was a heading, “Psychosomatic and Sociological Aspects of Gynæcology”. He dealt with all sorts of important aspects of the art of gynæcology. Some he labelled “trivial” but still worthy of mention. There were tips the like of which I never saw in another text at the time on pain, cancerphobia, the pelvic examination, getting the patient to relax and so forth. As good as this chapter and the book in general was however, there was a sentence I’m sure all women would scoff at upon hearing it. On the subject of the vaginal examination Jeffcoate stated, “Insert and withdraw fingers slowly to avoid any erotic stimulation.” Technology has brought us many true advances in our specialty. Any woman now of reproductive age knows she can go to her local supermarket and buy a home pregnancy test kit. A prescription is no longer necessary. It was only as recently as around 1963 when such kits came onto the market. Prior to this the technology available to measure hormones including sex steroids, was extremely crude, therefore inaccurate. In fact, every pregnancy test before 1963, and for a few more years until the new kits became commonplace, meant a female mouse had to be sacrificed each time. Concentrated urine from the woman was injected into the mouse’s belly. One day later the mouse was killed, the abdomen slit open and if the ovaries appeared hyperstimulated, that was a positive, the so-called Ascheim- Zondek or A-Z Test. In 1974, David Abramovich, an expatriate Sydney Professor of Obstetrics and Gynæcology then in Aberdeen reported a study measuring maternal testosterone levels during pregnancy.4 By then radioimmune assays had revolutionised hormone physiology. He observed that maternal plasma testosterone levels rose to a peak around 18 weeks’ gestation and this was especially so if the js black the psyche and the soma page 3 woman was carrying a male fetus. However, in the discussion at the end, he concluded, “There do not appear to be any clinical implications in this rise.” I criticised this conclusion in a guest editorial on sexuality in pregnancy.5 I cited this as a good example of the difference between a researcher and a clinician. All Professor Abramovich had to do was observe and speak to these women during their pregnancies. In many women carrying males, by the time they are at the 18 week mark, their faces are erupting with acne instead of the traditional “peaches and cream” complexion, their scalp hair if not actually full of dandruff, becomes oilier and curls tend to fall out. Bodily hair such as axillary, pubic, on legs and abdomen increases. Often they note a heightened libido and sexual responsiveness, some partners telling me it has never been so high thus far in their entire relationship. These are all testosterone effects begging for clinical observation. Once more, women reading this who have given birth to babies of both genders will often reflect on these words and agree with the observations. Sir John Dewhurst was also one of our great teachers and his lectures were always a treat in their clarity, erudition and wisdom. He was a world authority on childhood gynæcological disease, and his monograph, “Female Puberty and its Abnormalities”6 is a classic work. I had the pleasure of attending a lecture of his in Sydney on the subject of the adrenogenital syndrome, which dealt as you can imagine with ambiguous genitals and congenital abnormalities. One of his slides showed an endocrinological schema with the pituitary at the top, and all the endocrine glands in anatomical position beneath down to the ovaries and genitals. Arrows started at the pituitary and all pointed towards one of the lower glands and the genitalia. He avoided any discussion of the tomboyish or sexual behaviour in these girls. I stood up and asked a question afterwards. I made the observation that all of the arrows in that particular slide pointed downwards. I asked Sir Jack about arrows which should also be pointing upwards from the genitalia towards the brain and what his thoughts were. He could not answer that question at all and fobbed me off. I had started to meet world famous sexologists from around 1976 and at the beginning of 1978, I passed another milestone, when I visited the Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral Science, School of Medicine of the State University of New York at Stony Brook. This was during their heyday with so many famous sexologists on the one campus. Some had heard of my work with apareunia due to vaginismus. I was enjoying an 83% success rate in its management. It was wonderful to confer with them. New textbooks were being published and here was I meeting the various authors. An important book came out in 1979 that addressed finally some of the imbalance between conventional studies of hormones on behaviour and the less- studied and less-understood effects of behaviour on hormones.7 This opened new avenues of thought for me. Then followed a very productive phase. I was teaching, training, counselling, treating and in 1983, I was appointed to the Board of SSSS (The Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality), and from 1985 to the Board of WAS (The World Association for Sexology), both for several years. With this kind of background in my post-graduation years, it is clear why I would be attracted to Psychosomatic Obstetrics & Gynæcology. I absorbed these concepts js black the psyche and the soma page 4 well known to psychotherapists, but absent from our mainstream specialist medical literature. To this day I am also still actively involved in obstetrics. I graduated at a time of major change in my specialty. Childbirth was no longer the dangerous pursuit it once genuinely used to be for mothers and babies. [Nowadays due to the altered medicolegal climate, obstetrics is more hazardous for the obstetrician instead!] I met the new gurus such as Frédéric LeBoyer, Sheila Kitzinger and Michel Odent who showed us there was an effective, far gentler, less-invasive way to go. Similar changes were occurring in gynæcology. Innovations such as the contraceptive pill and other hormones, ultrasound, microsurgery and laparoscopy facilitated more conservative approaches. Nonetheless, I have always contended that since, unlike any other doctors, we obstetricians & gynæcologists are responsible for managing problems associated with every major rit de passage of women ranging from childhood through adolescence, “marriage”, pregnancy up to the menopause etc., how can the primary approach to the management of such problems be with the knife or a “magic bullet”? Many doctors haven’t learned the very real therapeutic but time-consuming value of just listening and talking to patients/ clients; that doctors themselves are just as valid a medical instrument, as described by Balint.8 A patient of mine who was a surgeon’s receptionist told me once of a lady who came out from the consultation saying to her, “I feel so much better now.” At the morning tea break she dutifully told her boss what the patient had said. He replied, “But all I did was talk to her.” Some people just do not get it. One of my pet hates is being told by a patient/ client that previous therapists have told her either, “It’s all in your head”, or after a pile of tests and scans have been performed, “I can find nothing wrong with you”, leading the woman to think her medical attendants believe she is imagining the symptoms. Now I turn to the crux of the integration of medical and psychological treatment for sexual problems. I have learned that medical practitioners do not have all the answers, but then in fairness neither do psychologists or all the other “-ologists”, but that together we can find so many of the answers. Whereas psychotherapy offers much for orgasmic sexual dysfunctions, sexual phobias and such like, medical practitioners are very appropriate when it comes to pain associated with sexual functioning, be it before, during, or after. Since pain is the commonest symptom which brings clients/ patients to see a doctor, more doctors need to learn that different clients/ patients perceive, evaluate and act upon given symptoms differently which in turn make them behave in differing manners, dubbed Illness Behaviour (IB) and Abnormal Illness Behaviour (AIB) (Pilowsky, 1978)9. Singh (1981)10 then showed us that clients/ patients may well exhibit AIB, but that it also matters what kind of doctor treats what kind of patient/ client, and that Abnormal Treatment Behaviour (ATB) may be exhibited. Further, I learned of concepts of Somatisation (e.g. Ford, 198611 & Lipowski, 198712), and then an extension of IB and AIB, Pain Behaviour, (Tyrer, 1986)13. I am adamant that any person presenting with a symptom consistent with dyspareunia, (which in turn can be female or let us not forget male dyspareunia), cannot be managed solely by a psychologist or psychiatrist. A critical, sexologically- js black the psyche and the soma page 5 oriented examination of the genitals and/or pelvis needs to be made.14 We health professionals cannot exist without each other. As evidence of this, in my own management of apareunia due to vaginismus, my “pet” specialty, and the supreme example of a psychosomatic condition, many uncured still-apareunic women have come referred to me via psychiatrists and psychologists and I have been successful in helping them achieve not only intercourse, but to accept their vagina as a normal organ and to enable women to insert creams, tampons, etc as any “normal” woman can. There are cases where no amount of psychotherapy, guided imagery, hypnosis etc helps overcome such problems compared with in-vivo, hands-on techniques. Yet I am the first to point out that if I am the primary referee and the woman is severely emotionally upset, there is no way my services can be helpful, nor should I even try, until I refer such cases for psychotherapy to reduce this background of psychological baggage. In some of these cases, my services aren’t required thereafter. In vaginismus the psyche is willing, used to be willing or maybe it wasn’t ever willing, but the soma is saying a definite “No!”. We have the chicken or egg situation here. Has the fear of penetration/ pain/ mutilation etc led to this condition, or, have painful, unsuccessful attempts at intercourse or other negative factors such as a past history of incest or rape, painful vaginal examinations and other negative experiences with doctors led to the involuntary pain behaviour and apareunia? It is a two-way street. At the 5th International Congress of Psychosomatic Obstetrics & Gynæcology in Rome in 1977, I was the first person in the world to point out that we doctors are equal to rapists as regards ætiological factors in preceding apareunia due to vaginismus.15 I have come to learn that the word “pain” is a form of “currency” used by patients to mean various things, but above all, it is a cry for some sort of help. Each of our medical specialties, of necessity representing a narrower band of medical knowledge hived off from the entire medical “cake”, has its own “currency” to describe pain syndromes within that specialty. Such “currencies” include fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue syndrome, irritable bowel or bladder syndromes, muscular and migraine headaches, premenstrual syndrome, chronic pelvic pain, or finally — vulvodynia.16 For example, the classical words, “Not tonight dear, I have a headache,” of course is not a dyspareunic pain, but it is a “currency” or code, a subtext. As an obstetrician & gynæcologist, my bias is towards women, but then, this is the realm of most dyspareunia. The principles apply equally to male syndromes such as anismus and proctalgia fugax. I have always held the view, based on long experience with very positive outcomes in patients, that whereas the patient/ client may say, “Doctor, I don’t enjoy sex because it hurts”, I respond, “Au contraire, sex hurts because you don’t enjoy it”.17 The previously mentioned advances in hormonal physiology and hormone use for treatments represent another medical area. Prolactin, testosterone and allied assays in both sexes yield therapeutic information, and testosterone therapy in women is something I have used judiciously over 35 years with good effect in the minority of women I see who are suitable candidates. There is a myriad of so-called “natural” remedies out there including œstrogens, gestagens, DHEA, DHEAS, wild yam, js black the psyche and the soma page 6 phyto-œstrogens and so forth. One of the real problems with these compounds is that individual doctors do not know the exact composition of what the women are taking, and there are genuine concerns about uniform quality control and uniform efficacy of batches. Forty years ago, impotence was considered about 97% psychological and around 3% medical in ætiology. Nowadays our expanding knowledge places the mix at around 50-50. Sexual surgery is performed in some cases of impotence, for penile enlargement or penile correction as in Peyronie’s disease. Transsexual surgery, vaginal repairs and labioplasties are examples of other surgical managements. I have left the pharmacology of sexual dysfunction until last, because this represents a subject, which now is an area with only two sides. The other two sides are expanding exponentially and we don’t know yet where the borders will end. Brain chemistry will unravel more secrets as the years go by and lead the way to newer, more targeted drugs. Another area of great promise is with the use of fMRI’s and PET scans as well as I imagine technologies we haven’t even dreamed of yet. Nevertheless, for now we must remain aware of the unwanted side effects of our expanding pharmacopœia upon sexual function. The reverse situation, drugs that enhance sexual function is also engaging our attention. The use of Viagra-type drugs by men has not lived up to expectations with large numbers of them now not refilling their prescriptions. I know that many sex therapists became dismayed when traditional forms of counselling went by the wayside as men sought a “quick fix” and embraced Viagra whilst continuing to smoke and drink heavily, not look after their diabetes or eat the wrong foods. As the American author, poet and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Men wish to be saved from the mischiefs of their vices, but not from their vices.” CONCLUSIONS & SUGGESTIONS Male and female Desire, Arousal and Pain continue to be the big treatment issues in the management of sexual problems. There is no doubt that the consciousness of all doctors, be they general practitioners or specialists of varying types, regarding their responsibilities towards clients’/ patients’ sexual difficulties needs to be raised on a continuing basis.2 I used to think once or twice was enough. As we become more aware of pain behaviours and in turn of more effective pain management, several of our textbooks will have to be rewritten. This will take a long time from now before such new concepts and treatment modalities percolate down the line to young doctors and psychologists. It is clearer to me now after 40 years that special doctors, not all doctors, will need to be more aware of clients’/ patients’ sexual difficulties in the same way you can’t expect all psychotherapists to be comfortable with managing sexual dysfunctions. It is also patently clear that neither psychologists nor doctors have all the answers. Together we will get somewhere. In fairness to my medical colleagues, there is so much to learn and this mass of material is expanding like the “big bang” over the years. In the words of a former Editor of the Medical js black the psyche and the soma page 7 Journal of Australia, the explosion in the numbers of journals and specialised textbooks means that more and more smaller groups of people end up talking only to their fellows, and thereby lose out in knowing and benefiting from what is happening in the rest of medicine.18 In view of this, I have come to realise that the ideal doctor, one who knows a reasonable amount about everything, and who has clinical skills to match, is an unrealistic pipe dream today. Gone are the days when life was a lot simpler and the town’s only GP handled everything quite competently. “The farmer and the cowman should be friends,” states the song in “Oklahoma”. I believe we should accept the reality that we need each other and cannot work in isolation from each other in our field of sexual function and dysfunction. In mentioning “special doctors” in this context, I would like to see that in a group practice of GP’s for example, at least one of the partners has extended his/her training into counselling skills. As regards obstetricians & gynæcologists, we need a new type, not a new subspecialty. In the same way we have a pædiatrician and pædiatric surgeon, a neurologist and neurosurgeon, a cardiologist and cardiac surgeon, a thoracic physician and thoracic surgeon, a nephrologist and urologist, a rheumatologist and orthopædic surgeon; in other words two specialists in the same field but one is at the non-surgical, diagnostic end of the spectrum, the other at the surgical, we need a new breed of gynæcologist who is at the non-surgical end of the spectrum. Having said previously that the gynæcologist is the best medical specialist to manage certainly the physical aspects of women’s sexual problems, we need such men and women to concentrate on the diagnostic and counselling aspects of our specialty, a “gynæcological physician”, as it were. This is the niche where I have come to see myself. I am not a trained psychologist but I know that what I do is p s y c h o - therapeutic. I am happy to leave the IVF, microsurgery, urogynæcology and cancer surgery to others with those important and ultra-developed skills. Finally, I would like to see sexual difficulties experienced by men and women treated with more interest and concern by doctors equal to the level of concern among our patients. It would be a big help if these new textbooks that need to be written add some novel integrative tables into their teaching. In other words, in the same way we are taught perspectives such as the ocular, cutaneous or arthritic manifestations of disease, I believe we should see new tables devoted to the sexual consequences of systemic disease. We doctors need a biopsychological model rather than the traditional medical illness model in the management of sexual dysfunctions. In July 1982, I spoke here in Brighton at the 1st International Conference of the Institute of Psychosexual Medicine. The late Tom Main chaired my session. It is an honour and a thrill to be asked to speak at only the second international sexology congress to be held in the UK. js black the psyche and the soma page 8 1 Van de Velde, TH. Ideal Marriage. London: William Heinemann. 1st Ed., 37th Impression: 1961. 2 Black, J.S. Sex and the Gynaecologist. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Obstetrics & Gynaecology 1974; 14, 238-240. 3 Jeffcoate, TNA. Principles of Gynæcology. London: Butterworths. 2nd Ed.: 1962. 4 Abramovich, DR. Human Sexual Differentiation — In Utero Influences. J Obstet Gynæc Brit Cwlth 1974; 81, 448-453. 5 Black, JS. Sexuality and Pregnancy — An Interview Study. Aust N Z J Obstet Gynæcol 1994; 34, 1- 2. 6 Dewhurst, J. Female Puberty and its Abnormalities. Edinburgh: Churchill Livingstone: 1984. 7 Sex, Hormones and Behaviour. Ciba Foundation Symposium 62 (New Series).Amsterdam: Excerpta Medica: 1979. 8 Balint, M. The Doctor, His Patient and the Illness. London: Pitman Medical Publishing: 1968. 9 Pilowsky, I. A general classification of abnormal illness behaviours. British Journal of medical Psychology 1978; 51, 131-137. 10 Singh, B., Nunn, K. & Yates, J. Abnormal Treatment Behaviour. British Journal of medical Psychology 1981; 54, 67-73. 11 Ford, C.V. The somatizing disorders. Psychosomatics 1986; 27, 327-337. 12 Lipowski, Z.J. Somatization: Medicine’s unsolved problem. Psychosomatics 1987; 2, 294 & 297. 13 Tyrer, S.P. Leading Article: Learned Pain Behaviour. British Medical Journal 1986; 292, 1. 14 Black, J.S. Sexual Dysfunction and dyspareunia in the otherwise Normal Pelvis. Sexual & Marital Therapy 1988; 3(2), 213-221. 15 Tunnadine, P. The Making of Love, p.36. London: Jonathan Cape: 1983. 16 Black, J.S. Letter responding to Pagano’s Article on Vulvar Vestibulitis Syndrome. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Obstetrics & Gynaecology 2000; 40, 108-109. 17 Black, J.S. Dyspareunia and vaginismus. In E.-S. Teoh, S. Ratnam & M. Macnaughton (Eds.) The Current Status of Gynaecology & Obstetrics Series, Volume 6, General Gynaecology. The Proceedings of the XIIIth World Congress of Gynaecology & Obstetrics, Singapore, 1991 (pp. 125-132). New York: Parthenon Publishing Group:1991. 18 Brass, A. Communicating with Doctors. In Fraser, IS, Porter, J & Mason, C (Eds.) Obstetrics, Gynæcology, Psychiatry and Family Planning. The Proceedings of the combined annual congress of the Australian Society for Psychosomatic Obstetrics and Gynæcology, and the Biological Sciences Committee of the Australian Federation of Family Planning Associations, Canberra, 1984 (pp.19-25). Abbotsford: York Press: 1984. 
work_2nur7dfkyjfhpltf3mip45e6iu	----	In Memoriam which he hoped to use to promote both greater cross-disciplinary orga- nizational contact and further inte- gration of social scientists in Asia and Africa. Having become fluent in four or five languages, he thrived in the atmosphere of international sci- entific administration and had a unique capacity for bringing both vision and practicality to a wide range of issues and projects. His work on the international arena was so very far from being completed. With such a high profile as an ad- ministrator in recent years, it's easy to loose sight of Franco's consider- able production as a social scientist. He was author or coauthor of 10 major works and more than 60 arti- cles and high-profile papers. More important than the volume of his production, however, was the grow- ing range of his interests and re- search involvements. Long recog- nized in an international capacity in the area of local governance, he had, over the past five years or so, ex- panded his interests to cover both the politics of divided countries and issues of sustainable development in a North-South context. At the time of his death, he was working with colleagues from India and Eastern Europe on comparative projects along very different dimensions, hav- ing returned to research again with full vigour after his prolonged period of initial illness. Francesco Kjellberg was what they would have called in the American West "a man to be reckoned with." He was possessed of a complex per- sonality: a powerful and assertive intelligence combined with deep res- ervoirs of charm and wit. He had an enormous sensitivity for injustice in any form, and was always willing to take the side of the underdog. He also had a very strong "existentialist" streak, constantly willing to explore the personal implications of his own positions, and ever on the alert for "bad faith." He was also both excep- tionally loyal and exceptionally open in whatever he undertook. In short, he was a man of integrity, a "tradi- tionalist" in the very best sense of the word. With Franco's death, IPSA and political scientists around the world have lost a true friend and champion of the discipline. Our thoughts and deepest sympathies go out to his im- mediate family who have lost such a vital part of their lives at a much too early date. He was a man who made a difference, and he will long be re- membered and honoured by col- leagues and friends everywhere. William M. Lafferty University of Oslo William Webster Lammers It is with great sadness that we report the death of William Webster Lammers on October 7, 1997. He died at the USC/Norris Cancer Hos- pital in Los Angeles at the age of 60. Bill was born in Waseca, Minne- sota, and he received his A.B. in his- tory in 1959 and his M.A. and Ph.D. in political science in 1960 and 1966, respectively, from the University of Minnesota. He was initiated into Phi Beta Kappa during his junior year in college, and he later served as fac- ulty president of Phi Beta Kappa for two years. He joined the department of political science at the University of Southern California as an instruc- tor in 1964 and was appointed an assistant professor in 1966. He was promoted to associate professor in 1970 and to full professor in 1984. He served on the faculty senate and chaired the division of social sci- ences promotion and tenure commit- tee. He made frequent television, radio, and speaking appearances, particularly during election years, and he served as a consultant on social security issues for several members of Congress. Bill was acting chair from 1971- 1973 and again during the spring semester of 1986. As we all know, it takes a leader, a conciliator, a com- promiser, a strong person, to head a diverse group of independent- minded academics. These are quali- ties he had in abundance, along with an integrity and genuineness that shone through his persona. More- over, he was always reliable. You could always count on Bill. He sat on a number of department and uni- versity committees, and he always came well prepared with notes, and did not "wing it" as many of our col- leagues have done. Bill's research focused on Ameri- can politics and public policy. He was the author of two books on the American presidency and three books on aging policy. His papers consistently appeared in the top po- litical science journals, including Presidential Studies Quarterly, Politi- cal Science Quarterly, Policy Studies Review, Canadian Journal of Political Science, Publius, and American Jour- nal of Political Science. He presented papers at the annual meetings of the American Political Science Associa- tion and the Western Political Sci- ence Association on a regular basis. Bill developed a massive data base on the professional background and actions of individual presidents to facilitate his research on executive behavior and policy formation. Com- pleted shortly before his death, Comparing Presidents: Leadership and Domestic Policy (CQ Press, forth- coming) analyzes the leadership abil- ities and styles of presidents from FDR through Clinton. His article in Political Science Quarterly, "Presiden- tial Press Conference Schedules: Who Hides, and When," provides an extremely perceptive and insightful study of when presidents choose to hold news conferences and how those decisions affect public opinion. He also collaborated with Joseph Nyomarkay on a major study of ca- reer patterns of cabinet officials in Austria, Canada, France, Germany, and Great Britain. Bill also wrote extensively about aging policy in the United States. He analyzed a wide variety of govern- ment policies toward older adults in Public Policy and the Aging, pub- lished by CQ Press. "The aging are destined to become a larger and more influential segment of Ameri- can society," he wrote in his 1983 book. "The falling birthrate begin- ning in the early 1960s, coupled with increases in life expectancy, makes this demographic shift inevitable. The number of older persons with the personal resources and political skills needed to participate in the political process is growing, and elected officials are becoming in- creasingly sensitive to their voting strength. The mixture of policies that will emerge in response to those po- litical and demographic changes will have important implications not only for present and future aged popula- March 1998 85 In Memoriam tions but also for the very nature of American society." Obviously, he supplemented his fine research skills with an effective crystal ball. Bill was also a devoted teacher. He regularly taught courses on the presidency, comparative executive behavior, federalism, state politics, policy analysis, politics and aging, and politics and health policy. He taught both undergraduate and grad- uate students, and he spent a great deal of time outside the classroom guiding his students. He probably supervised more dissertations in the American field than anyone else on the faculty. Bill served for a number of years on the selection committee for state legislative internships. He helped many students, not only at USC, to serve as interns in Sacra- mento, California. In latter years, Bill also encour- aged junior faculty. He was quick to agree to serve on faculty review committees, and he helped a number of younger faculty to achieve promo- tion and tenure. While Bill's research often cen- tered on important government pol- icy and the politically powerful, he was also concerned about the plight of average Americans. He once said in an interview with the media that "All of us should remind ourselves of the importance of ordinary acts of kindliness, like offering to drive an elderly neighbor to a physician or just calling up your 80 year-old grandmother to ask how she's doing. To individually reach out and touch someone among the elderly—by telephone or otherwise—is really as consequential in its own way as any type of collective reform." In short, Bill was an outstanding scholar and teacher. His research on the presidency, in particular, has shed important light on that critical office. He was an exemplary col- league and the moral backbone of our department. His presence, wis- dom, and good humor will be sorely missed. Bill is survived by his wife, Mary, and daughters Linda and Caroline Lammers. Sheldon Kamieniecki University of Southern California Marcella A. MacDonald Marcella A. MacDonald, 57, assis- tant professor of political science at SUNY-Brockport, died at her Brock- port home in November 1997. Mac- Donald had taught at Brockport since 1968, specializing in political theory and women's studies. She was active in faculty governance, includ- ing service as chair of her depart- ment's governance committee, as a Faculty Senator, as a representative to the faculty union, and as a mem- ber of the Women's Studies Board. She was born in Timmins, Ont., and had degrees from the University of Brunswick (B. A.), the University of Melbourne (M.A.), and Yale Uni- versity (Ph.D.). Dr. MacDonald was a bright, witty, compassionate teacher, colleague, and friend. She scorned the traditional formalities of faculty-student relations and culti- vated long-standing friendships with many of her students. William G. Andrews SUNY-Brockport Robert Dale Miewald Robert D. Miewald, professor of political science at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln, died October 18, 1997. Bob was born in Chinook, Montana, May 16, 1938. As a boy, he came to know ranching and farm- ing on the Montana plains. After selling the ranch, the family moved to Enterprise, Oregon, where his father was employed by the Forest Service. Bob graduated from Enter- prise High School in 1956 and from the University of Oregon in 1960. From 1961 to 1963, he served in the U.S. Army. Following military ser- vice, he completed his doctorate in political science at the University of Colorado. Bob began his professional career at California State University, Long Beach, where he was an assistant professor and coordinator of the graduate program in public adminis- tration. In 1971, he joined the fac- ulty of the University of Nebraska, Lincoln as an associate professor. He was promoted to full professor in 1978. At Nebraska, Bob served as chair of the department from 1974 to 1977 and 1988-1990. From 1978, he served as the director of the graduate specialization in policy analysis and program evaluation. Bob was a master teacher, an en- gaging and thoughtful writer, an un- selfish colleague, dear friend, and mentor. A quite and reserved man in most social settings, in the class- room he was a performer. Whether teaching a class of several hundred or a seminar of less than ten, whether first year or graduate stu- dents, Bob made the often dry sub- ject matter of public administration come to life. Courses in personnel administration, budgeting, and man- agement are not the stuff that typi- cally turns students on, but Bob was able to do so. His classes were al- ways full and the students always left with a smile. His style and approach are reflected in his book, Public Ad- ministration: A Critical Perspective. He opens with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, "There are some subjects which have kind of a right to dull treatment. Public administra- tion has always been one of those subjects." With criticism and humor, he could turn the dull into the de- lightful. Bob also reached students because he had something to say. He would walk them through the world of ad- ministration but the journey would not stop with the mechanical and superficial. He dealt with issues at the core. To him, administration and organization were important because they were a way to get things done, but he always cautioned his students to be aware of the dehumanizing potential that lay in the bowels of many an organization. First and foremost, he would remind them, stay committed to your fellow per- son. Bob would often drive home the point, "being in charge is never an excuse for being a bastard." Many a student left his classroom with a greater understanding of ad- ministration. More importantly, many left with a greater understand- ing of the human condition. In spite of his success as a teacher, Bob would not allow him- self to be nominated for a teaching award. No one knows why; Bob didn't share such things. We suspect that for him, turning students on was simply the job and didn't deserve special recognition. 86 PS: Political Science & Politics 
work_2orb3mzq3vgwzgfweaaatvqcpu	----	PC 15.1-03 Warner 41 What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? Michael Warner In the days after the World Trade Center attacks in September 2001, Robert Pin-sky — the former poet laureate and creator of the “America’s Favorite Poems” project — appeared on television reading poems of consolation. This seemed to many people a natural thing to do, I’m sure. Art is commonly thought to have a redemptive task in difficult times. The poem that I will discuss here, Herman Melville’s “Shiloh,” was written in New York at a similar time of violent crisis. The poem clearly answers to the expectation of redemption through art. But con- solation and redemption are precisely what I’d like to avoid here. What is most interesting about the poem to me is a paradox in its redemptive language — one that says much about how violence comes to be scandalous, about the traps of redemption, and about the dilemmas of liberal culture. “Shiloh” refers to an 1862 battle in the Civil War, the first of the colossally destructive battles that stunned participants on both sides by the scale of mecha- nized killing. Melville probably wrote the poem in 1864 or shortly after and published it in 1866 in Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War, his first and best book of poetry, written after his novelistic career had essentially ended in failure. It is an unaccountably beautiful poem, building up to an extraordinary single line, which it shudders away from and contains in parentheses: “(What like a bullet can undeceive!).”1 Public Culture 15(1): 41 – 54 Copyright © 2003 by Duke University Press 1. Herman Melville, Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War, ed. Sidney Kaplan (1866; Gainesville, Fla.: Scholars Facsimiles, 1960), 63. I Shiloh. A Requiem. (April, 1862.) Skimming lightly, wheeling still, The swallows fly low Over the field in clouded days, The forest-field of Shiloh — Over the field where April rain Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain Through the pause of night That followed the Sunday fight Around the church of Shiloh — The church so lone, the log-built one, That echoed to many a parting groan And natural prayer Of dying foemen mingled there — Foemen at morn, but friends at eve — Fame or country least their care: (What like a bullet can undeceive!) But now they lie low, While over them the swallows skim, And all is hushed at Shiloh. It is not hard to see why Melville might have felt the need for parentheses to cordon off the climactic burst of recognition. (In other ways the parentheses expand its resonance, as we will see.) The line looks forward to the prose “Sup- plement,” tucked in the back of Battle-Pieces after the notes; there, in convoluted and defensive language, Melville argues for amnesty in Reconstruction — a posi- tion that goes a long way toward explaining the dismal commercial failure of the book.2 (It sold 486 copies in its first eighteen months.) Like Walt Whitman, who published Drum-Taps in 1865, Melville clearly thought that a book of war poetry would feed some new public hunger in the war’s immediate aftermath. Battle- Pieces appeared amid Northern triumphalism, and many of its poems celebrate the causes of union and antislavery. Yet the climactic line of “Shiloh,” like other moments in the book, forswears any motivating structure for violence. The line, in short, encapsulates the dilemma of Northern liberal intellectuals, Public Culture 42 2. Robert J. Scholnick, “Politics and Poetics: The Reception of Melville’s Battle-Pieces and Aspects of the War,” American Literature 49 (1977): 422 – 30. What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 43 whose moral framework had provided both the rallying language for the war and a powerful incitement to repudiate war, even their own war.3 Was their vision of a free humanity a way to redeem the violence in which they had been involved? Or did it promise and require a redemption from violence? This dilemma should sound familiar. The Civil War was in many ways a special case of official state violence, not least because the centrally disputed point was whether it was an inter- or intra- state conflict. The metapragmatics of war was complexly reflexive; people were fighting largely over the question of who was fighting, and for what. There was, however, at least one clear answer available to the North. The war, occurring at the climax of a period of intense Christianization in American culture, was partly driven on the Northern side by a redemptive vision of war in general and of the United States in particular as the redeemer nation. This vision was given chilling expression in the most popular of all Civil War poems, “The Battle-Hymn of the Republic,” written by the feminist and abolitionist Julia Ward Howe and printed in the Atlantic Monthly in the same month as the battle of Shiloh: In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me; As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free; While God is marching on.4 Here, in “The Battle-Hymn of the Republic,” violence does not appear as such. The poem does not say, “let us kill,” or even, “let us delegate some professional killing and dying”; it says, “let us die.” And it says we should do this not to rule, but “to make men free.” It appears not as a program of cruelty, but as a redemption from cruelty. The poem certainly has what we might call a violent program, but what it makes visible is the neutralization of violence by means of the state and an encompassing theodicy. Human cruelty is remediated in this world by the del- egated human violence of the state and in the next world by the judgment for which the American state is an instrument and a foreshadowing type. Even for two writers so ardently committed to the Union cause as Whitman and Melville, this vision came to seem repugnant. A war fought in the public 3. This context is described in George Fredrickson, The Inner Civil War: Northern Intellectuals and the Crisis of the Union (New York: Harper and Row, 1965), though Fredrickson mentions Melville only briefly and “Shiloh” not at all. 4. Julia Ward Howe, “Battle-Hymn of the Republic,” in American Poetry: The Nineteenth Century, ed. John Hollander (New York: Library of America, 1993), 1:709 – 10. For a wider selection of poetry from the war, see Richard Marius, ed., The Columbia Book of Civil War Poetry (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994). sphere, reported from the front for the first time; a war that escalated beyond any- one’s imagination and altered the cause for which it began; a war too mechanized to supply much redemptive glory to valorous manhood; a war in which each side contested the self-understanding of the other as a legitimate state; a war whose ironic and unforeseen consequence was to build the apparatus of the state to a new level; a war that turned on General Sherman’s decision to carry the terror of warfare to a civilian population — the Civil War (to use the name attached to it by the victor, just as “Shiloh” is the North’s name for the battle) seemed to these writers to reopen the problem of cosmodicy in a unique and terrible way. In Melville’s parenthesis, the whole idea of a war fought for a cause, any cause, is made to seem absurd. This was not easily said in 1866. Wartime patriots could be counted on to abominate a sentiment such as “Fame and country least their care.” In that line, Melville pointedly rebuts “The Battle-Hymn of the Republic.” In the poem’s scene of injury, abandonment, and impending mortality, he subsumes legitimate state violence under the more general heading of violence as a suspect category, an intrinsic evil. I will say more about the poem’s resources for achieving this effect, but here I’d like to note that its dilemmas in a way inhere in the very concept of violence as an abstract category of suspicion. As an organizing category, violence holds out a temptation to pastoralism. In much contemporary criticism, for example, the term is a kind of anathema, even if — especially if — the violence is of the sym- bolic variety, as for example when George Eliot’s compassion is analyzed as a kind of violence.5 The unstated assumption of this debunking move is that vio- lence should not be — even if it is nonviolent violence. To call something violence is to name it as a scandal wherever we find it, whether in the normal workings of the state or in the categories of liberal ethics. But we have no clean analytic or normative concept here. Violence is always the violence of another. Not everyone shares the sense that what we call violence is self-evidently and invariably wrong, let alone our willingness to metaphorize it so violently, as it were. That we do so is a measure of our distance from the warrior ethic, or Flo- rentine virtue, or absolute divinity, or ritual scarification, or ordinary injury, or the structure of feeling behind terrorism. To classify these as forms of violence is already to stand outside them. The act of naming violence involves a denaturaliz- Public Culture 44 5. This is the argument of a paper titled “Fatal Compassion,” presented in September 2000 by Neil Hertz at the English Institute, Harvard University, and forthcoming in Compassion, ed. Lauren Berlant (New York: Routledge). What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 45 ing stance external to the action frameworks of force, allowing us to think of vio- lence as aberration. In this sense, redemption comes before violence, not after. How did we come to be habituated to the normal invisibility of injurious force and capable of externalizing its motivations? This state of affairs might require as much explanation as violence itself. I would like to know more about the geneal- ogy of this abstraction, violence, and about its secular deployment. This essay is meant to be a small contribution to such a study. Among the conditions that insulate us from the unbarred meanings of violence is the modern state, which by monopolizing and delegating violence, delegiti- mates it in civil life. That function has come to be coupled with the sanctification of life and the consensual individual. So one thing that we might mean by redemp- tion is the devaluation of violence created by the foundational premises of the nation-state and radically extended in certain moments of liberal culture to devalue even the official force of the state. At least since Weber, it has been common to remark that the state is itself an action framework for violence, and indeed most contemporary critiques of the state rest on this as a point of suspicion. But the state’s way of legitimating its force (i.e., of making it seem something other than mere violence) is different from other action frameworks, such as parental punishment of children or the blood feud. Unlike the latter, the modern state framework not only legitimates its own use of injurious force but globally delegitimates all others. The more estab- lished the state framework, the further this delegitimating effect can be put into practice: in weak states, hardly at all; in other cases, extending even to cover parental punishment of children or neglectful treatment of animals. In the latter kind of state, more and more forms of force and injury come to be regarded as violence, and thus as illegitimate, if they are not delegated to officials. By dele- gating violence we neutralize it in nonstate contexts, so that it can appear only as scandal or crime, contrasted with a normal state that is understood as pacific. Vio- lence appears violent insofar as it can be contrasted with legitimate force; the more legitimately force comes to be delegated, the more illegitimate all undele- gated force — violence — comes to seem. This process of enlarging the category of violence and its catchment of suspi- cion takes a surprising turn when it leads people to name a state apparatus itself as violent, throwing suspicion on its use of force. In such cases, however, the nor- mative standard behind the criticism is the same othering of violence that is the state’s own means of legitimation. It is possible to turn this kind of criticism on the state largely because the modern democratic state leads us to assume a kind of transparency between the sovereign citizen who instructs the state and the national subject on whom the state acts. State force applied to citizens looks ille- gitimate, a kind of sovereign self-injury, unless the injured persons can be exter- nalized as criminals rather than citizens. I might note that the state as a structure of redemptive delegation is itself a principal target of terrorism, in which the decision to bypass the delegated repre- sentatives of violence, in favor of what are locally called innocent civilians, is just as central a strategy as the exploitation of the mass public’s asymmetry of agency. The scandal of terrorism is not just that it is violent, but that the terrorist sees no scandal in the violence and does not respect its delegation to a special subclass of legitimately violent and violatable persons such as the army or the police. The point I want to make here is simply that neither violence nor redemption comes with uncontested valuations. While it remains virtually impossible for us to think about violence outside the redemptive frame of state delegation, the ongoing conflicts over the modern state also mean that the most basic evaluative problems of cosmodicy — why is the world bad, and what should we do about it — can still be reactivated with as much unsettled urgency as if history had only just begun. In the West, the neutralization of violence by the state/civil society relation is also interwoven by another, more ancient kind of redemption: the distinctively Christian scheme in which suffering is seen as compensated, remediated, even meritorious. In Christianity after Augustine, the problem of cosmodicy is dis- placed by theodicy: the badness of the world is not the fault of creation, nor of its creator, but of humanity. A flawed and violent world is the just punishment for evil that flows from human freedom. The creator god is immunized from blame by the redeemer god, who suffered and died, and who calls us to embrace our suf- fering in opposition to our own fallen humanity.6 It is this radical redemption, I think, that first enables a stance sufficiently external to human action to allow violence to appear as an abstract category. The perfect state of peace is now imagined not as the precarious accomplishment of wisdom and just rule but as a heavenly state, beyond human affairs altogether. The suspicion of fallen humanity attends even the forceful virtues. Injurious force can cease to be seen as valorous striving and can come to be seen as human evil, insofar as a realm beyond history and humanity can be imagined as a point of aspiration. Redemption in this sense now has secular variants, which lead us to Public Culture 46 6. Here I follow Hans Blumenberg, The Legitimacy of the Modern Age, trans. Robert M. Wallace (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1983). What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 47 believe just as powerfully that people do not suffer and die in vain. Leo Bersani has argued that this stinky redemptive function — stinky because it is a lie (peo- ple do suffer and die in vain) and stinky because it locks people into very specific forms of suffering by convincing them that pain gives them access to compensa- tion — has been reoccupied in modernity by aesthetics: art is supposed to com- pensate the flaws of the world.7 All of these elements of redemption can be glimpsed in “Shiloh.” From the beginning, the landscape localizes the violence as strictly human. Unlike many of the poems in Battle-Pieces— a strange collection of hybrid genres, never ade- quately appreciated partly because its technique is so anomalous —“Shiloh” is instantly recognizable as lyric.8 Its surface is quite simple, a kind of snapshot. The poem opens with a pastoral landscape, a redemptive backdrop against which vio- lence can appear only as scandal.9 As in poems such as “Malvern Hill,” Melville 7. Leo Bersani, The Culture of Redemption (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990). 8. The anomalies of technique are discussed in William Spengemann, “Melville the Poet,” Amer- ican Literary History 11 (1999): 569 – 609. Helen Vendler comments on the generic hybrids in the vol- ume in “Melville and the Lyric of History,” Southern Review 35 (1999): 579 – 94. Vendler endorses “Shiloh” precisely as an example of redemptive vision. Other important critical essays include Lawrence Buell, “American Civil War Poetry and the Meaning of Literary Commodification: Whit- man, Melville, and Others,” in Reciprocal Influences: Literary Production, Distribution, and Con- sumption in America, ed. Steven Fink and Susan S. Williams (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1999), 123 – 38; Lawrence Buell, “Melville the Poet,” in The Cambridge Companion to Herman Melville, ed. Robert S. Levine (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 135 – 56; Elizabeth Renker, Strike through the Mask: Herman Melville and the Scene of Writing (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996); and Rosanna Warren, “Dark Knowledge: Melville’s Poems of the Civil War,” Raritan 19 (1999): 100 – 121. 9. Here the summary of the poem by Stanton Garner, which, though almost entirely unreflective and manifestly wrong as to the temporal setting of the poem, can serve as a kind of indicator of the poem’s conventions: “Shiloh: A Requiem (April, 1862)” is a soft, elegiac, conciliatory poem that survives the technical difficulty of rhyming the name “Shiloh.” Its double inspiration was the church that gave the battle its name and the Sabbath on which this part of the battle was fought. . . . A counterpart to “Donel- son,” it takes the reader to the scene long after the battle, after neutral nature has healed the land. The fields surrounding the church are hushed and swallows wing in circles of eternity, uniting symbols of spring — the swallows — and resurrection — the church. These turn memory back to the spring rains that on the battle evening of that Sunday fell on broken and waning lives. It had been a dark and brutal day in which men had frowned across the “curs’d ravine” at brothers whom they aspired to kill. But “what like a bullet can undeceive!” Divided as Israel was at ancient Shiloh, these modern disputants had learned late that causes —“Fame and country”— paled before their own mortality and that their suffering was theirs alone. The rebirth of spring, the wor- ship represented by the humble country church, the inviolability of the Sabbath, and the dedica- tion to country that inspired both sides had become moot. Their prayers were “natural,” and nat- ural too was the friendship that resumed as enemies shared the brotherhood of pain and death. . . . frames catastrophe against beauty. The swallows in the first line are untouched by the drama of humanity below them, even blithely so. It seems almost perverse that they should be “skimming lightly.” Melville drives this home by bringing them back at the end of the poem, where again they skim as though Shiloh — and history — never happened. (When they are said to be “wheeling still,” two senses of “still” seem relevant; they wheel still yet, and they seem in wheeling to be still, motionless, almost out of time.) In classic fashion, the landscape is sublime to the extent that it is alien to humanity, even to such human endeavors as the poem we are reading, which shushes itself in the final line: “And all is hushed at Shiloh.” The inhuman but vaguely benign indifference of the landscape turns out to be the ground, so to speak, for the bombshell parenthesis. Melville’s Calvinist/Augustinian background has a good deal to do with the way the poem intensifies the effect. As in many of the other poems of Battle- Pieces (most conspicuously in “The House-top” and “The Conflict of Convic- tions”), the war dramatizes the guilt of humanity. Nature and nature’s god are exonerated. Nature’s god comes into the picture in the one conspicuous human structure on the landscape: the eponymous log church. The church is a note of pathos, not least because it is “log-built,” Arcadian. (The meter and diction, by the way, have a homespun, log-built crudeness that brings out this primitive asso- ciation; to the purist of poetic technique Melville’s touch in rhymes like “Shiloh / lie low” or “one / groan” has often felt rough, and the seemingly improvisational alternation between end-rhyme and internal rhyme —“them / skim”— has seemed like uncultured form.) The men, we are reminded, have been fighting on Sunday. Where Howe’s fighting Jesus had led men into battle, Melville’s implacably tran- scendent creator stands apart, on Sabbath, a supreme antithesis to a violence that by contrast is made purely human, and purely evil. Pastoral theodicy makes vio- lence categorically illegitimate — even though in this case it is violence of the most legitimate variety. But if humanity here seems to bear the guilt of the world’s badness alone, the poem’s picture of injured humanity also invokes a competing Christian ethics, one in which suffering can be seen as revirginating. Public Culture 48 Through all of this, the poem takes Battle-Pieces a step forward, into that area of realism in which real men suffer and die on real battlefields. Stanton Garner, The Civil War World of Herman Melville (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1993), 141 – 42. Garner’s notion that the poem is set “long after the battle” is clearly a mistake; the wounded but living men remain on the battlefield because it is Sunday evening and their comrades have retreated at dusk to return in the morning. What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 49 Over the field where April rain Solaced the parched ones stretched in pain These men, the only men we see in the poem, are not seen in the act of violence but rather as sufferers. Their suffering is suffused with theology: it is April, cru- cifixion season; the men are both parched and stretched out like Christ (a not uncommon effect in Battle-Pieces; compare the Daphne figures of “The Swamp Angel” and “Malvern Hill”); and nature deigns to solace them with rain. In con- trast to “The Battle-Hymn of the Republic,” the impulse of the Christian ethic here is not to redeem force, but to redeem men from their own force, visible as violence because it is inflicted upon them outside the frame of the poem. In midcentury America this picture of suffering as a moral center had acquired a distinctly anti-Calvinist association. It is a moral vocabulary for liberalizing Christianity. Melville indexes the modern vision of an essentially good humanity in the highly ambiguous phrase “natural prayer” at the middle of the poem. (Readers of Melville will recognize the conflict between Calvinist and liberal conceptions of humanity here as an excruciating topic in his work, which he returned to in the radically sentimentalized picture of natural innocence in Billy Budd, his only attempt at fiction after the Civil War, left unpublished at his death.) The men, seen only as sufferers, acquire innocence. They are almost features of landscape, all the more so because we see them through the placeless eternal present of lyric witnessing. By treating the foemen without distinction of North and South, Melville elim- inates violent agency from war. Partisans of both sides are seen only as patient subjects. They seem to have injured themselves — or, better yet, they seem to exist in an intransitive state of collective injury. This absolutized pain, if I may put it so, framed only by a structure of sympathy (“Foemen at morn, but friends at eve”) delegitimates the war and sets the stage for the provocative turn of that still astonishing parenthesis: Foemen at morn, but friends at eve — Fame or country least their care: (What like a bullet can undeceive!) The rhetorical exclamation is in parentheses, I think, partly because it sits oddly against the picture of the innocent suffering that has preceded it. If any agent has injured these men, it can only be their own former state of deception — fame or country. To imagine that the men have been injured by such agents as fame or country is of course to shift our attention from a social conflict to an inner struggle. In one of the very few extended and thoughtful essays about Melville’s poetry, Robert Penn Warren notes that one of the central themes running through Battle-Pieces is “the theme of the ironical split between concern with the human being and con- cern with the idea, between the individual and ideology.”10 Warren did not cite examples, but this parenthesis must have been one of the main passages he had in mind. In Americanist criticism it has become conventional to describe Warren’s terms as the Cold War reading of Melville, in which the American individual is pitted against a demon of ideology that is identified with everything except the American individual. (Thus, the fluidly uncommitted Ishmael versus the totali- tarian Ahab.) Critics like Warren are thought to have inclined to this reading because of their own commitments to liberal Americanism.11 But Warren is onto something about that parenthesis, which to me at least has a power to move that far exceeds any Cold War idealization of the uncommitted individual. For one thing, “Shiloh” powerfully reminds us that because the ideol- ogy in question could not be considered other or alien — it was, in Northern intel- lectuals’ eyes, the very cause of freedom — the war created an unsolvable dilemma. A delegitimating perception of the war was not easy for Melville or anyone else. It is not entirely sustained in Battle-Pieces, and perhaps the full power of nega- tion in the parenthesis could not be sustained. But as Louis Menand has recently argued, its aftershocks were a defining ethical crisis for many of the intellectuals of the postwar period, for whom the central perception carried forward from the war was horror at the idea of any vision — of fame, of country, as Melville says, but also of justice or freedom — that commits one to violence of this unbearable sort. Menand argues that the project of pragmatism sprang precisely from this challenge to redemptive vision (though again let me note that the devaluation of violence has its own redemptive character — hence the insoluble dilemma). Prag- matism, he notes, opens an unbridgeable gap between belief and its transcendent grounding. It developed the ability to explain everything about ideas except why anyone would die for them, and that limitation was ironically its point.12 Something like this problematic opens up in Melville’s exceedingly odd word choice: undeceive. There is no direct object, no modifier. We are not told who is Public Culture 50 10. Robert Penn Warren, introduction to Selected Poems of Herman Melville: A Reader’s Edition, ed. Robert Penn Warren (New York: Random House, 1970), 9. 11. The chief statement of this position is Donald Pease, “Moby Dick and the Cold War,” in The American Renaissance Reconsidered, ed. Walter Benn Michaels and Donald Pease (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985). 12. Louis Menand, The Metaphysical Club (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2001). What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 51 undeceived about what. Bullets simply undeceive, and the implication is that any motivating framework for action, or at least for violent action, is exposed as decep- tion in this moment of absolute retrospection (a kind of last judgment, implying for a Christian culture an eschatology). Undeception occurs in a partly abstracted mind inhabiting a bullet-torn body but otherwise either individual or collective, Union or Confederate, here or there. The bullet strips away conviction and habit, and we are not told much about what kind of subjectivity is left. The line itself lingers in parentheses, floating free of its scene. Its picture of subjectivity, apparently merely negative, is in reality mediated by the conventions of lyric, with its eternal, placeless, overheard speech. The exclamatory form of the parenthesis gives us a question that is not merely rhetorical. If the line “What like a bullet can undeceive!” were a question, it would be rhetorically asking for, and therefore pointedly not finding, an analogue for its fatally excavating enlight- enment. The text as lyric, however, is such an implied analogue to the work of the bullet, though for better and worse a less efficient one. The undeception of the wounded men, after all, is glimpsed only at the threshold of mortality. What good will their undeception do them? But the implication is that it might do us some good, as their unremarked witnesses. The work of lyric, by which we give our- selves an analogue to their momentary undeception, makes it possible to imagine their changed recognition as something other than a tragically inconsequential irony. It has to be said that there is something wishful about Melville’s scenario. We have all too much evidence that neither bullets nor hijacked planes nor cruise missiles can be relied upon to do the work of undeception. If they could, then this would turn out to be another redemptive value. (What like a bullet can undeceive! Hooray for bullets! Obviously, that isn’t the point.) I think this is another reason why Melville encloses the line in parentheses. Its recognition is not exactly attrib- uted to the men as consciousness. It is a kind of notional undeception, ambiguously ours and theirs, in a way uniquely mediated by lyric. This effect differs noticeably from cold detachment, as well as from instrumental rationality, or the reflexivity of the liberal individual’s self-integration. Undeception might be seen as a meta- pragmatic characterization of the lyric itself. Its state of suspended conviction, recalling the dilated sensibilities of John Keats’s “negative capability,”13 corre- sponds to the action frameworks of very few activities other than the reading of lyric. What like a poem can undeceive? 13. Letter to George and Tom Keats, 21 December 1817, in Complete Poems and Selected Letters of John Keats, ed. Edward Hirsch (New York: Random House, 2001), 491 – 92. For this reason, Melville’s undeceived subject must be a special creation of the form, rather than the entirely deracinated individual of liberal theory. The gender marking of the whole scene is also very strong, both because it is fame and patria that have been stripped away and because this excavation of inward- ness happens in the scene of a suddenly bonded mass of male friends, stretched toward one another in a mutually witnessing physicality that has been intensified to the utmost extremity. What appears to be a subject imagined only in the radi- cally negative state of undeception is in fact vested with a richly unintegrated subjectivity. Interestingly, Warren connects Melville’s skepticism to what he politely calls Melville’s “sexual tensions.” What Warren in fact says in the sentence I quoted selectively above is that Melville’s “self-divisions provide a secret grounding for the theme of the ironical split between concern with the human being and con- cern with the idea, between the individual and ideology.” This insight might be turned around: the strong valuation of mobile, self-divided subjectivity is what makes sexuality visible as a distinctively human capacity, a dimension of unmas- tered expressivity. This is all the clearer in that other great lingering parenthesis of Civil War poetry, the one that closes Whitman’s “The Wound-Dresser”: (Many a soldier’s loving arms about this neck have crossed and rested. Many a soldier’s kiss dwells on these bearded lips.)14 Whitman’s poem similarly repudiates the motivating frameworks of war. It opens with a speaker, imagined as an aged veteran of the war (even though the poem was published in 1865), approached years later by children to tell the usual stories of heroism and victory. The speaker begins but then refuses. Instead, he returns in private memory to his witnessing of injured soldiers in the wartime hospital. The poem creates an antiphony between public narratives of heroism and the private memory, the latter being understood as uniquely available to lyric. The voice of memory is further punctuated by parenthetic interjections — asides departing from asides — culminating in the quoted lines. So the poem, like “Shiloh,” stages a divided subject; in both texts lyrically mediated self-division creates a subject for whom eros, mortality, and the witnessing of injury must be protected against Public Culture 52 14. Walt Whitman, “The Wound-Dresser,” in Poetry and Prose (New York: Library of America, 1982), 442 – 45. Battle-Pieces and Drum-Taps have often been compared, though usually in passing. Neither book has been adequately analyzed. The most thorough attempt at the comparison is John P. McWilliams Jr., “ ‘Drum Taps’ and Battle-Pieces: The Blossom of War,” American Quarterly 23 (1971): 181 – 201. What Like a Bullet Can Undeceive? 53 the closure of redemption. In both poems, Christian frameworks of bellicose redemption enter into visible conflict with a distinctive picture of subjective expe- rience and a baseline sanctification of life — themes, I might add, of late-Christian secular culture that we see violently repudiated in our time. It might seem odd to call so Christian a poem as “Shiloh” paradigmatic of sec- ularism, but I think it is, and in a way that exemplifies a paradox of modern secu- larism. Secular culture, especially in its American variant, freely names religion as the thing it is not but pointedly refuses to name itself as a discipline of subjec- tivity or as a public culture. It is not a creed but a way of prescinding from creed.15 In “Shiloh,” undeception is a movement governed by a kind of ethics of belief, a subjectivity enriched to the point of sanctity by distrust of conviction’s transcen- dent objects. Properly undeceived, we would distrust not only fame and country but any comparable motivating framework, including Howe’s god. (It is impor- tant that both the Melville and the Whitman poems are roughly contemporary with William Clifford’s The Ethics of Belief.)16 As is so often the case with post- Kantian secularism, the movement here looks like a simple negation, freedom from illusion. But it is also, less visibly, a discipline of ethical subjectivity in its own right. “Shiloh” gives us, as an overdetermined unity, both the negative movement of secularism as the mere negation of creed and the more concrete texture of mor- tal worldliness, though the latter remains unthematized, performed rather than proposed. The sense of final worldliness comes out even more strongly in the Whitman poem, where the lyric subject is defined less by doubt and distrust than by resolve, attention, and desire. The framework of worry in “The Wound- Dresser” is cosmodicy, not theodicy, though the poem seeks to render the subjec- tive limits of injury with a contemplative reverence that in other contexts we would call religious. At the climax of “Shiloh,” as the undeceived float away from conviction, Melville is at his most Emersonian. Like Ralph Waldo Emerson in “Experience” (1844), he imagines a subject shocked to discover its own continuity despite the mortal tragedy of all its attachments. The men outlive, however briefly and use- lessly, their redemptive frameworks; and this window of injury-registration is 15. This argument has been made forcefully by William Connolly in Why I Am Not a Secularist (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999). 16. W. K. Clifford, The Ethics of Belief and Other Essays (Amherst, N.Y.: Prometheus, 1999). See the discussion in Charles Taylor, Varieties of Religion: William James Revisited (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002). ironically their most authentic life. What had been sacred justice becomes mere violence, in part because it stands in visible contrast to that which had been vio- lated — namely, a deep subjectivity. Deep because it sustains violent self-division, because it outlives its contents, because it inheres in torn bodies that are both absolutely individual (because facing death) and saturated with social meaning, lingering across death through the work of the text. I have tried to show here that the apparently simple act of naming violence, of perceiving the damage of a bullet, in fact mobilizes a complex structure of feel- ing, made possible by a vast historical background and a lot of textual condensa- tion. It requires us to see humanity as alternately evil and innocent, to see the state as legitimate and illegitimate, and to see subjectivity as both empty and rich. These are strong valuations, not to be discarded by the facile critique of some purer undeception. Late-Christian liberal secular culture, as exemplified in “Shiloh,” now finds itself violently embattled, and it is among other things the perception of violence that is so embattled. Michael Warner is a professor of English at Rutgers University. His most recent books include The Trouble with Normal: Sex, Politics, and the Ethics of Queer Life (1999) and Publics and Counterpublics (2002). Public Culture 54 
work_2owbhd4t6zfc5jgiba5l6jmvku	----	Received: October 27, 2016 Accepted: October 28, 2016 Published online: October 2016 Distinguished Lecture AORTA, October 2016, Volume 4, Issue 5:152-155 DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.12945/j.aorta.2016.16.069 * Corresponding Author: Frank A. Lederle, MD VA Medical Center (111-O) 4507 Browndale Ave., Minneapolis, MN 55417, USA Tel.: +1 612 467 2683, Fax: +1 612 467 2118, E-Mail: frank.lederle@va.gov Fax +1 203 785 3552 E-Mail: aorta@scienceinternational.org http://aorta.scienceinternational.org © 2016 AORTA Published by Science International Corp. ISSN 2325-4637 Accessible online at: http://aorta.scienceinternational.org Key Words Aortic aneurysm • Writing and publishing • Clinical trials It is my pleasure to give this opening talk for the fifth edition of the International Meeting on Aortic Disease – which, as I’ve said before, is my favorite meeting. As many of you know, it began in 2008 as a tribute to Liege’s eminent vascular surgeon and sci- entist Ray Limet, and has recurred every other year since. It remains about science rather than market- ing, and has the right mix of talks, breaks, and social events to get to know colleagues worldwide. I was honored to be invited to give this talk, but also a little worried, especially seeing it billed as a “distinguished lecture”. This seemed to call for something like wis- dom, a commodity that’s always in short supply (as you will soon see), so I intend to borrow liberally from others toward the end. Anyway, I will talk for a while and you can decide how distinguished you think it is. I am especially honored to be addressing this audi- ence because, unlike most of you, I was not trained in aortic diseases. I must have had a lecture on the topic in medical school, but I don’t remember it. Instead I trained as an internist and developed an interest in clinical research (again with no training!) after joining the faculty at the Minneapolis Veterans Affairs (VA) Medical Center. Our general internal medicine group was interested in research methodology and preven- tive medicine – smoking cessation, flu shots, prostate cancer screening, and the like. I was looking for a research topic when the January 1986 American Cancer Society journal CA arrived in my mailbox listing the top 15 causes of death in the Unit- ed States, and I was surprised to find aortic aneurysm among them. All the other “top 15” had societies and campaigns dedicated to their eradication, whereas this one seemed to be just sitting there waiting for someone to take an interest. About that same time I also came across Jack Collin’s November 1985 editorial on “Screen- ing for Abdominal Aortic Aneurysms” [1], inspired by an abstract by Twomey from the year before. These revela- tions prompted me to do an aneurysm screening proj- ect in our clinic, which was published in 1988 [2]. My next thought was to do a randomized trial of screening for abdominal aortic aneurysms, but when I thought about it more, it seemed to me that there was a serious problem. Sudden deaths without autopsy, which are quite common and usually not due to aneu- rysms, would be much more likely to be attributed to aneurysm rupture in the screened group (where many aneurysms would be diagnosed) than in the control group (where there would be fewer known aneu- rysms), which would have the effect of hiding any true reduction in rupture mortality from screening. I tried to find ways to deal with this problem in a 1990 article in the Journal of Clinical Epidemiology Distinguished Lecture Given at the Opening of the 5th International Meeting on Aortic Disease, Liège, Belgium (September 15, 2016) Frank A. Lederle, MD Minneapolis Veterans Affairs (VA) Medical Center, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA http://dx.doi.org/10.12945/j.aorta.2016.16.069 mailto:frank.lederle@va.gov mailto:aorta@scienceinternational.org http://aorta.scienceinternational.org http://aorta.scienceinternational.org Lederle, F. A. Distinguished Opening Lecture at IMAD 5 (2016) 153 Distinguished Lecture [3], but none of them were feasible. The only reaction I ever got to that article that basically explained why a randomized trial of aneurysm screening could not be successful was years later from my friend Alan Scott, the principle investigator of the two British aneurysm screening trials that changed the world. His comment was “I’m glad I didn’t see it”. Another problem for me doing a screening trial was that unlike in other countries at that time, the US already required consent from everyone first, re- sulting in much more work and cost and many cross- overs. The four trials that were actually conducted, all outside the US, just randomized a population list and invited half to screening, with the controls never knowing they were being studied. Because a screening trial was impractical for me, a ‘repair of small aneurysms’ trial seemed like the next best thing. If repair of small aneurysms was beneficial, it would help make a strong case for screening. If it was not beneficial, the cost-effectiveness of screening would be greatly improved by avoiding repair of all those small aneurysms. Besides, a ‘repair of small aneurysms’ trial addressed a decision that was interesting enough in its own right. You have a common cause of death that lies in wait, easily detectable for many years, but with a treat- ment that is itself risky and must be applied selectively. During the Wall Street Journal’s 2004 Pulitzer Prize-winning series on aortic aneurysm, one of the reporters asked my opinion of a surgeon’s comment that deciding whether to repair an aortic aneurysm was like deciding whether to repair a defective hose in an airplane engine before you took off – meaning that you would be crazy not to. I thought the analogy should take account of a few other things, that is: an- eurysm repair itself offered a risk of ‘crashing’, and its result, a synthetic graft, was not quite ‘as good as new’. I suggested a revised analogy of whether to repair the airplane engine hose with your jacket sleeve after turning the engine off in mid-flight. The reporter de- cided to steer clear of airplane analogies, but you can’t help being fascinated by a clinical problem like this! In 1990, a new colleague joined our group from the Boston VA, where her mentor was chief of the VA Coop- erative Studies Program and she had a Cooperative study approved for planning. This provided me with encourage- ment (and a template!) to submit a letter of intent for the Aneurysm Detection and Management (ADAM) study to VA Cooperative Studies that year. In 1992, as we were going before the evaluation committee, the Society for Vascular Surgery recommended elective repair of all ab- dominal aortic aneurysms 4.0 cm or larger, which raised the stakes and the study was approved and funded. After that I had to take long phone calls from vas- cular surgeons telling me how unethical the study was for delaying surgery in the surveillance group. However, once we got going, a major VA medical cen- ter refused to participate because they considered re- pairing 4.0 cm aneurysms to be unethical, so at least we had equipoise of outrage! As you know, the results of the two small aneurysm trials, ADAM and UK Small Aneurysm Trial (UKSAT), showed no benefit from repairing abdominal aortic aneurysms smaller than 5.5 cm in diameter. While no one has challenged the validity of these findings, it has been a disappointment to me that, to this day, many (and in my own country, perhaps most) of the abdominal aortic aneurysms repaired are smaller than 5.5 cm. Various justifications for this practice have been proposed, but the reasons are not valid and don’t stand up to scrutiny. It seems that people just want to repair small aneurysms, regardless of the data showing that it is not good for the patient. This has surprised me, because all the vascular surgeons I know are so profoundly dedicated to their patients’ welfare in every other way. For me, after the ADAM trial, one large study led to others, including the Natural History of Large Aneu- rysms Study, published in 2002 [4] and the VA Open Versus Endovascular Repair (OVER) Trial, published in 2012 [5]. My current trial will sound less “vascular” by your reckoning – a comparison of major cardiovascular outcomes after treatment of hypertension with chlor- thalidone or hydrochlorothiazide (2 similar diuretics) using a new low-cost centralized design [6]. This and similar designs used by ADAPTABLE, the NIH’s first Na- tional Patient-Centered Clinical Research Network trial on aspirin dosing, and TASTE, a recent Swedish Registry trial on thrombus aspiration, are worth your attention as they chart a path to a future of less expensive ran- domized trials, on which we will increasingly depend. Anyway, for me this amounts to about 30 years in clinical research and leading large trials, mostly on abdominal aortic aneurysms, and I’d like to finish up by sharing a few things I’ve learned over that time, AORTA, October 2016 Volume 4, Issue 5:152-155 Distinguished Lecture 154 that way but the abstract is much easier and more ac- curate, and actually agrees with the article! And don’t have someone else write your paper! There were sur- geons in our hospital who would have their secretary write their articles! Do your own word processing – it’s much better than the old days of typewriters – you can throw ideas and content into the document through- out the whole design and study period, and edit it later. Best-selling author John Grisham said “The best ad- vice I ever got was to write at least one page a day. Until you write a page, nothing is going to happen.” In a study by Boice, those who set aside 15-30 minutes a day to write were more likely to obtain academic promotion than were binge writers [10]. You can start the writing session painlessly by going over what you’ve already written. As US Supreme Court Justice Louis Brandeis noted “There is no good writing, only good re-writing.” After double-checking your data, stand by your re- sults, even if they refute your bias and everyone else’s. As Isaac Asimov put it, “The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds the most discov- eries, is not “Eureka!”, but “That’s funny...”. Don’t fall into the mistake John Kenneth Galbraith warned of when he said “Faced with the choice between chang- ing one’s mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof.” The best way to stay unbiased is to stay unbought, so be- ware of financial relationships with industry. Here I re- peat Upton Sinclair’s observation that “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends upon his not understanding it.” Some authors like to write long and rambling dis- cussions, stating their favorite opinions on a variety of topics. This never helps get a manuscript accepted and can hurt, especially if the reviewer has different opinions or you overstate your findings. Let the data speak for themselves, and remember your findings don’t ‘prove’ anything, they agree with or don’t agree with some hypothesis, thereby contributing to the col- lective body of knowledge. Dean Hess wrote [11]: “The purpose of research is to discover and not to prove. It is easy to fall into the trap of designing the study to prove your bias rather than to discover the truth”. Also important is what you do with the paper when you get it back from the journal. To quote myself from a 2006 talk: “While it is often necessary to write a strongly worded letter, it is rarely necessary to mail it”. The fault especially in hope of benefitting the younger inves- tigators. First, ask a good question. The best questions can be stated clearly and are easily understood by non-experts. As one author put it, “Until you can explain your study to the janitor and see his eyes light up, you are not ready to start” [7]. I like to look for things that are widely be- lieved or are enshrined in guidelines, but that I think are probably wrong. And I am not the only who thinks this way. The pathologist Paul Broca said “The least ques- tioned assumptions are often the most questionable.” Physicist Richard Feynman said “Learn from science that you must doubt the experts.” Playwrite George Bernard Shaw said “All great truths begin as blasphemies.” And Alvan Feinstein, one of the founders of clinical epidemi- ology, said “the agreement of experts has been a tradi- tional source of all the errors that have been established throughout medical history” [8]. There are still plenty of widely accepted “facts” out there that are not true, and you probably each know of some – I encourage you to point your research in that direction. As principal investigator of your own study, you are the one who must keep pushing it forward and who knows the big picture so well that you can ensure that any changes to your design don’t cause worse problems than they solve. While few people can actually stop you, many can slow you down. In particular, anytime that you assume that some part of your study is going well because someone else is looking after it, you may be headed for a surprise. I have found that if the principal investigator is not keeping an eye on it personally, it probably isn’t getting done. Sitting around the table (real or virtual), be sure you have done your homework, avoid groupthink, provide your own honest indepen- dent assessments, don’t overstate your conclusions, and if you have nothing to say, say nothing. I’d also like to say a few words about writing. After all, that’s all there is in the end. Always keep the eventual journal article in mind while you plan your study, and keep the possible reviews and letters in mind while you write the journal article. Never write a sentence you can’t defend – it will likely turn up in quotes in one of those reviews or letters. And don’t forget to write the article! Most presented abstracts are never published as manuscripts, in most cases because they are never submitted as manuscripts [9]. I submit the meeting ab- stract after the paper is written – the paper is no harder Lederle, F. A. Distinguished Opening Lecture at IMAD 5 (2016) 155 Distinguished Lecture is always with the author, as in “I may have failed to convey…”. Learn to handle rejection; we only count the victories on our résumés anyway. Winston Churchill said “Success is the ability to go from one failure to an- other with no loss of enthusiasm.” A rejection can also be the beginning of a dialog (and several editors have said so in print). I have had five flat-out rejections later accepted by the rejecting journal. Another thing I have learned is that, once you pass the age of 50, nothing is more satisfying than mento- ring junior investigators, and doing so strictly for their professional advantage, not your own. Of course, only in that way do you really benefit in the ways that count. Erik Erikson, a successor to Piaget in sorting out what makes us mentally healthy throughout our lives, talked a lot about this. His 7th stage of life he termed: Generativity vs. Stagnation. Generativity is described as “primarily the concern in establishing and guiding the next generation” and he speaks of “the only hap- piness that is lasting: to increase, by whatever is yours to give, the goodwill and higher order in your sector of the world” [12]. Many of you already know from ex- perience how satisfying mentoring can be. Finally, I’ve learned that we should remember those who got us here. In the case of IMAD5, that can only mean our conference director, Natzi Saka- lihasan. Ralph Waldo Emerson said that “An institu- tion is the lengthened shadow of one man”, and if the institution is the International Meeting for Aor- tic Diseases, that man is Natzi Sakalihasan. To bring us all together for the fifth time to focus on science without benefit of society dues or intrusion by in- fomercials is an awesome achievement, and I thank him for it. I’ve thrown a lot of quotes at you in this little talk, but I’d like to throw out a few more, the first because it’s my favorite election year story. When Adlai Ste- venson was running for president against Dwight Eisenhower, a woman called out from the audience “Senator, you have the vote of every thinking person!” Stevenson replied “That’s not enough, madam, I need a majority!” He lost to Eisenhower twice. The last quote I offer for no other reason than that I like it. It’s from Jack Handey, and goes: “Before you crit- icize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you’re a mile away and you have their shoes.” Thank you for your atten- tion, and please enjoy this wonderful meeting. Conflict of Interest The author declares no conflict of interest in regard to this publication. Comment on this Article or Ask a Question References 1. Collin J. Screening for abdominal aortic aneurysms. Br J Surg 1985; 72:851-2. DOI: 10.1002/bjs.1800721102 2. Lederle FA, Walker JM, Reinke DB. Selective screening for abdominal aortic aneurysms with physical examination and ultrasound. Arch Intern Med 1988;148:1753-6. DOI: 10.1001/archinte.1988.00380080049015 3. Lederle FA. Screening for snipers: the bur- den of proof. J Clin Epidemiol 1990;43:101-4. DOI: 10.1016/0895-4356(90)90062-T 4. Lederle FA, Johnson GR, Wilson SE, Ballard DJ, Jordan WD, Blebea J, et al. For the Veter- ans Affairs Cooperative Study #417 Investi- gators. Rupture rate of large abdominal aor- tic aneurysms in patients refusing or unfit for elective repair. JAMA 2002;287:2968-72. DOI: 10.1001/jama.287.22.2968 5. Lederle FA, Freischlag JA, Kyriakides TC, Matsumura JS, Padberg FT Jr, et al. For the Open Versus Endovascular Repair (OVER) Veterans Affairs Cooperative Study Group. Long-term comparison of endovascular and open repair of abdominal aortic aneu- rysm. N Engl J Med 2012;367: 1988-97. DOI: 10.1056/NEJMoa1207481 6. Lederle FA, Cushman WC, Ferguson RE, Brophy MT, Fiore LD. Chlorthalidone versus hydrochlorothiazide: a new kind of Veterans Affairs Cooperative Study. Ann Intern Med. 2016;165:663-664. DOI: 10.7326/M16-1208 7. Shelley WB, Shelley ED. The art of writ- ing a clinical paper. Arch Dermatol 1988;124:1119-20. DOI: 10.1001/arch- derm.1988.01670070097032 8. Feinstein AR. Fraud, distortion, delusion, and consensus: the problems of human and natural deception in epidemiologic science. Am J Med. 1988;84:475-8. PMID: 3348248 9. Pierson DJ. The top 10 reasons why man- uscripts are not accepted for publica- tion. Respir Care 2004;49:1246-52. PMID: 15447812 10. Boice R. Advice for new faculty members: Nihil Nimus. Boston: Allyn & Bacon, 2000. ISBN-13: 978-0205281596 11. Hess DR. How to write an effective discus- sion. Respir Care 2004;49:1238-41.PMID: 15447810 12. Erikson EH. Dimensions of a New Identity. New York: Norton; 1974, 266. Cite this article as: Lederle FA. Distinguished Lecture Given at the Opening of the 5th International Meeting on Aortic Disease, Liège, Belgium (September 15, 2016). AORTA (Stamford). 2016;4(5):152-155. DOI: http://dx.doi.org/ 10.12945/j. aorta.2016.16.069 http://dx.doi.org/10.12945/j.aorta.2016.16.069 http://dx.doi.org/10.1002/bjs.1800721102 http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/archinte.1988.00380080049015 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/0895-4356(90)90062-T http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/jama.287.22.2968 http://dx.doi.org/10.1056/NEJMoa1207481 http://dx.doi.org/10.7326/M16-1208 http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/archderm.1988.01670070097032 http://dx.doi.org/10.1001/archderm.1988.01670070097032 https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/3348248 https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15447812 https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15447810 http://dx.doi.org/​10.12945/j.aorta.2016.16.069 http://dx.doi.org/​10.12945/j.aorta.2016.16.069 
work_2tvedto2fvgizdrnqjllnnhiwe	----	Torre dei Schiavi Monument and Metaphor Charles C. Eldredge Thomas Hotcbkiss, Torre di Schiavi (detail), 1865. Oil on canvas 22 3/8 x 34 3/4 in. National Museum of American Art, Smith- sonian Institution, Museum Purchase When Benjamin West landed on Italy's ancient shores, he was fol- lowing the path of generations of Grand Tourists. Italy, especially Rome, was, after all, the center of European civilization and from an- cient times had drawn visitors from near and far. While but a single pil- grim in the long line to Rome, West was at the same time a pioneer for generations of American artists who would follow in his wake, drawn by the city's special history and character. The distinctive nature of central Italian light and topography, which had profoundly affected Claude Lorrain and altered the subsequent course of landscape painting, was scarcely the sole attraction of which the area could boast. The an of the Old Masters was a major lure for the Grand Tourists of the eighteenth century, as were the sculpted artifacts and architectural remains of the ancients. These reminiscences of the classical world were everywhere apparent along the Tiber and inescapably molded perceptions and depictions of the Eternal City. As archaeologists exhumed this storehouse of a storied past, artists delineated the ruins, with exacti- tude or caprice. Giambattista Piranesi's famed views of the antiq- uities of Rome excited the imagina- tions of connoisseurs throughout Europe and even in colonial Amer- ica, to which his engravings easily and readily traveled. Giovanni Pannini's compositions based upon Roman monuments, precisely drawn if fancifully rearranged, simi- larly enjoyed great vogue among the patrons of his day. Given this widespread enthusiasm for things Roman, it was little wonder that Benjamin West, the New World's first artist-ambassador to Europe, was determined "to visit the foun- tainhead of the arts" and in 1760 headed to Rome.1 West, who left Italy for London in 1763, was followed by John Sin- gleton Copley, who arrived in Rome in 1774. The familiar land- marks with which Pannini and col- leagues had preoccupied them- selves reappeared tellingly in the background of Copley's portrait of the American Italophiles Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Izard, painted in 1775. The couple posed amid their Old World finery before a distant pros- pect of the Colosseum. That such trappings were significant both to artists and sitters of many nationali- ties is suggested by J. H. W. Tischbein's renowned portrait Goethe in the Roman Campagna (1787), with the Tomb of Caecilia Metella and other favorite sites in the background, or Jean Ingres's equally acclaimed portrayal of his colleague Frangois Granet (1807), posed before the Quirinal. After the turn of the nineteenth century, the pioneering travels of West and Copley were repeated by increasing numbers of American artists, for whom Italy became a fa- vorite destination during their Eu- ropean sojourns. Between 1796 15 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 1 Robert Burford, Explanation of the Pan- orama of Rome Ancient & Modern, ca. 1840, Published in Burford, Description of a View of the City of Rome (New York: William Osborn, 1840) and 1815, John Vanderlyn spent all but two years abroad, dividing his time between Paris and Rome. In Rome in 1807 he composed his ac- claimed Marius Amidst the Ruins of Carthage, which reflected the art- ist s mastery of antique history ren- dered in tight, neoclassical style. The American taste for figures and ruins, as well as for Italy in general, reached its high point in the mid nineteenth century, as seen for in- stance in the work of the expatriate William Page. In 1860 he painted a romantic image of his wife before the Colosseum, an edifice that she, the quintessential Italophile, im- pressively dominates. While Vanderlyn and Page and many others worked in Rome, the fascina- tion with the ancient capital extend- ed far beyond the city's bound- aries. In his Paris studio in the early 1840s, the fashionable por- traitist George P. A. Healy painted Euphemia Van Rensselaer—with Roman ruins in the distance. Italomania was by then wide- spread, indeed so much so that Ralph Waldo Emerson worried, "My countrymen a r e . . . infatuated with the rococo toy of Europe. All America seems on the point of em- barking."2 The "dream of Arcadia"— as Thomas Cole entitled a key work of 1838—exercised a potent effect on the imaginations of nineteenth-century Americans and, from about 1825 to 1875, motivated the travels and the productions of many writers and artists. It was James Russell Lowell who perhaps best explained the American fasci- nation. "Italy," he wrote, was classic ground and this not so much by association with great events as with great men [T]o the American Italy gave cheaply what gold cannot buy for him at home, a past at once legendary> and authentic, and in which he has an equal claim with every other for- eigner. In England he is a poor re- lation ... in France his notions are purely English... but Rome is the mother country of every boy who devoured Plutarch Italy gives us antiquity with good roads, cheap living, and above all, a sense of freedom from responsibility... the sense of permanence, un- changeableness and repose.3 The whole of Italy, from Etna to the northern lakes, was rich in his- toric associations. But, for the mid- nineteenth-centurv traveler, as for his predecessors, it was to Rome that attention was particularly di- rected. Viewed from the Pincian or other Roman hilltops, or from the EXPLANATION OF TH£ MNOKAMA OF ROM I ANCIENT* MOUEKN 3 Fall 1987 far reaches of the Campagna, the dome of St. Peters and the city's fabled ruins inspired hushed rev- erence in nearly every visitor. Worthington Whittredges recollec- tions of his first glimpse of the city was typical of most Americans: "To me, born in a log cabin and reared in towns of low flat-roofed houses of pine and hemlock, the picture of Rome at last before my eyes was quite enough to inspire me with feelings of reverence and humility. I could not speak, or did not, and observed that the other passengers [in the carriage] were similarly affected."4 Understandably, artists sought to capture the grand sight, on can- vases, daguerreotypes, or even in monumental panoramas, such as that by the noted English specialist of the genre Robert Burford, which was first exhibited in New York in 1840 and shown again in Philadel- phia two years later—appropriately at the Coliseum (fig. 1). Ameri- cans, of course, were not alone in this fascination. Goethe's "discov- ery" of Rome in the late eighteenth century led to an equivalent migra- tion of German artists, who min- gled in Rome with painters and sculptors from the Scandinavian countries, France, Russia, and En- gland, all drawn by the region's pe- culiar appeal. Painters particularly delighted in the scenic possibilities of decaying monuments (fig. 2). For Thomas Cole, it was the Colosseum, "beauti- ful in its destruction," which, he said, "affected me most." "From the broad arena within," he recalled, it rises around you, arch above arch, broken and desolate, and mantled in many parts with... plants and flowers, exquisite both for their color and fragrance. It looks more like a work of nature than of man, for the regularity of art is lost, in a great measure, in dilapidation, and the luxuriant herbiage, clinging to its ruins as if to "mouth its distress" completes the illusion. Crag rises over crag, green and breezy summits mount into the sky.5 The overgrown arcades attracted as well the admiration of Rembrandt Peale, who, like most of the artists, regretted the program of cleaning up the monuments that was begun in the early nineteenth century. In- spired by recollections of a "beauti- ful wilderness of ruins, vines and shrubbery," he suggested that "some spots [be] left neglected and covered with plants and shrubs, as a sample of its former guise." Peale's advice, however, went un- heeded, leaving later artists, like Elihu Vedder, to lament that "the ruins were wonderfully beautiful before they were 'slicked up.'" "Slicked up" or not, the monu- ments cast their spell over visitors for most of the century. The "ro- mance of ruins" was described as "one of the most innocent and in- structive pleasures in which one may indulge," and thousands succumbed.6 The fascination with decay was more sentimental than morbid. Al- though most American artists did not wind up in Rome's Protestant Cemetery, many visitors would have understood the poetic senti- ment of Shelley (who is interred in Rome): "It could make one in love with death to think of being buried in so sweet a place."7 If Rome inspired sweet thoughts of mortality, the unsettled Cam- pagna outside its ancient walls did not always do likewise. To many early travelers, it was a bleak land of "solitude, dust and tombs."8 The wild and hilly Campagna was the domain of malaria and banditti, a dangerous "desert" whose traverse was required to achieve the art- pilgrim's goal. Hippolyte Taine thought it like "an abandoned cemetery... the sepulchre of 4 Smithsonian Studies in American Art Rome, and of all the nations she destroyed All antiquity, indis- criminately, lies buried here under the monstrous city which devoured them, and which died of its sur- feit." Wrote another visitor in 1820, "Rome . . . stood alone in the wil- derness, as in the world, sur- rounded by a desert of her own creation . . . pestilent with disease and death [L]ike a devouring grave, it annually engulphs [sic] all of human kind that toil upon its surface."9 During the nineteenth century, as highway safety improved and as methods to deal with the threats of malaria developed, travelers pushed farther beyond the limits of the city. The Campagna had to be crossed to reach the pictur- esque towns of Tivoli, Albano, and their neighbors in the Sabine Hills, which drew increasing numbers of travelers. As familiarity grew and se- curity improved, the reactions of travelers to the Campagnas wastes changed. Instead of the "fearsome loneliness" experienced by an ear- lier traveler, William Wetmore Story, one of Rome s greatest propa- gandists, found the Campagna air "filled with a tender sentiment of sadness which makes the beauty of the world about you touching."10 To his many readers Bayard Taylor recommended the view from the Campagna. While "there was noth- ing particularly beautiful or sub- lime in the landscape," he noted, "few other scenes on earth com- bine in one glance such a myriad of mighty associations, or bewilder the mind with such a crowd of con- fused emotions." In time, the re- gion came to seem almost homey. Charles Dickens, visiting in the early 1860s, noted that one Cam- pagna view, "where it was most level, reminded me of an American prairie." Indeed one American tour- ist, familiar with the Midwest, wrote that the Campagnas "wheat- fields, extending far and wide, are like those of Illinois."11 Along with the tourists, painters extended their rambles through the historic landscape, searching for the perfect fragment of broken aqueduct, the artistic effect of sun- set across verdant land, the colorful herdsman tending his flock amid the ruins. Van Wyck Brooks created a memorable word picture of these artists, who, "with Claude on the brain," haunted the Campagna, painting all day until twilight, willing to run the risks of the chill and the night mist, hoping to catch a little of the wonder of the sunset; and then hurrying in to pass the gates before these were closed in the eve- ning, man]elling over the purple clouds behind,the purpler Alban Hills and the mellow golden glow in the sky at the west.12 Ruined aqueducts, the "camels of the Campagna" that had brought precious water to ancient Rome from the distant hills, provided a favorite motif for nineteenth- century painters, as did the pictur- esque ruins along the old Appian Way. Another favored destination, to the east of the city along the Via Praenestina, was the remains of the villa of the Gordian emperors (fig. 3), who reigned from A.D. 237 to 244. The site, which was known as the Torre dei Schiavi, lay about two and one-half miles beyond the Porta Maggiore, crowning a rise in the landscape above the flow of the Acqua Bollicante. It was praised in guidebooks as "one of the most pic- turesque and interesting points in the Campagna."13 The complex was constructed amid and over the remains of ear- lier Antonine cisterns and build- ings. The new imperial country house was remarkable for its size; the ruins stretched along nearly a mile of the roadway. Begun by Gordian pere, a cultivated man of letters, the villa was subsequently 18 Fall 1987 3 Veduta delle Religuie della Villa dei Gordiani. Engraving in Luigi Canina, Gli edifizj antichi dei contorni di Roma, vol 6 (Rome, 1856), plate 106 4 Terme e Ninfeo della Villa dei Gordiani (elevations, sections, and plans). Engrav- ing in Luigi Canina, Gli edifizj antichi dei contorni di Roma, vol 6 (Rome, 1856), plate 107 occupied by Gordian III, who shared his father's passion for books, amassing a library of sixty thousand volumes. But the epicu- rean son also collected in other ar- eas, boasting twenty-two concu- bines, by each of whom he sired three or.four children—perhaps ac- counting for the size of the subur- ban spread. Three main elements composed the villa: sumptuous baths; the "heroon" or mausoleum, a circular building oriented toward the high- way in the best Vitruvian fashion; and a large colonnaded structure incorporating three basilicas. Of these, only ruins remained in the nineteenth century, although the form of the mausoleum was still readily apparent, as was a corner of an octagonal bath. Contemporary descriptions by the Roman chronicler Julius Capitolinus suggest the elaborate scale and decoration of this majes- tic home. The Gordian villa, he wrote, "was remarkable for the magnificence of a portico with four ranges of columns, fifty of which were of Carystian, fifty of Claudian, fifty of Synnadan [or Phrygian], and fifty of Nubian marble." Remnants of these colorful, imported stones were recovered in archaeological excavations which began in earnest in the early nineteenth century. "There were also three basilicas of corresponding size, particularly some thermae, more magnificent than any others in the world, ex- cept those in Rome" (fig. 4).14 The circular mausoleum was likened by a number of nineteenth- century travel writers to the Pan- theon, but its modest scale—fifty- six feet interior diameter—and method of construction are more analogous to the Temple of Romu- lus on the Appian Way. The brick- work of the Gordian villa and the engineering of the vaults were char- acteristically late Roman; the pio- neering archaeologist Antonio Nibby even claimed that the Gordian mausoleum was "the most ancient of this type of construction" and served as the model for the more familiar landmark near the Circus of Romulus on the Via Ap- pia. Four large round windows, of which two remain intact, permitted light into the upper story; there, a series of niches, alternating square 19 Smithsonian Studies in American Art and round, presumably contained sculpture. Augustus Hare noted that the splendid statue of Livia in the Torlonia Museum was found at the site and that works of that type originally embellished the entire complex.15 A subterranean room similarly contained straight and arched niches and was supported at its center by a large round pillar. Adjacent to the circular structure were the vast basilican building and the baths, of which little remains. Long after the dissipated Gordian III was murdered by his troops, his Campagna homesite was put to very different purposes. Remains of frescoes, which in the nineteenth century were still evi- dent in the mausoleums vault, sug- gest that the structure served as a medieval church. A frieze of saints and other Christian subjects was painted beneath the oculi in what was probably the church o f San An- drea, razed in A.D. 984.16 The ruins served military as well as religious purposes. The octagonal room re- maining from the ornate baths was transformed into a watchtower in the late Roman Empire by building walls over the apselike vault, strengthening it at the center with a thick Saracenic column, and top- ping it with a newly constructed tower. To Karl Baedeker, writing in 1867, this curious pastiche "im- parled] a grotesque aspect to the place"—and doubtless enhanced its allure.17 Eventually the Gordian villa site came to be known as the Torre dei Schiavi, a designation originally oc- casioned by the curious, broken watchtower but later applied to the distinctive mausoleum and ulti- mately to the entire region. The ori- gins of the name are uncertain. In the nineteenth century it was often referred to by English-speaking visi- tors as the "Tower of Slaves," al- though at least one travel guide specifically cautioned against such a literal translation with its allusion to Roman slavery. Instead, Bruno Schrader traced the name to the wealthy Schiavi family of the fif- teenth century, one of whose mem- bers, Vincenzo dello Schiavo, was prominent in Rome as late as 1562.18 The ruins along the Via Praenestina lay largely ignored for centuries following the construc- tion o f the watchtower and the raz- ing of San Andrea. Few travelers and fewer artists were drawn to the site until, in the seventeenth cen- tury, Piranesi turned to the ruins for inspiration. Among his cele- brated views of the Roman antiqui- ties are several plates featuring the ruined villa and its environs (fig. 5).19 He drew the stucco orna- ments of foliation and animals in the octagonal bath, which he mis- took for a tomb, and in his engrav- ings of the mausoleum he made the common misidentification of the site as a temple. In the following century, tour- ism outside the walls of Rome re- mained scarce. Francois Joullain was among the apparent few who made the pilgrimage to the Torre, perhaps attracted to it by Piranesi's prints, which remained popular among R o m e s visitors and cogno- scenti. Joullains small panel is char- acteristic of the views of Roman monuments popular with collec- tors of the period (fig. 6). He has anticipated the later "slickening up" o f the ruins by transforming the broken and irregular form of the mausoleum into a tidy sheep- fold. The rustic, mangerlike setting, the multiple lamb references, the gesturing, Magus-like figure at the left, and the mother and child with father, combine in an unexpected suggestion of a Nativity on the Campagna. The villa of a degener- ate emperor would surely be an un- likely setting for such an extraordi- nary event—if that indeed was what the artist intended—and 20 Fall 1987 Veduta degli Avanzi di Fabbrica magnifica sepolcrale... vicina a Torre de1 Schiavi... Published in Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Le antichita romane (Rome: Stamperia di Angelo Rotilj\ 1756), plate 60 FranqoisJoullain, Torre dei Schiavi, n.d. Oil on wood, 9 7/16 x 12 3/4 in. Bowdoin College Museum of Art, Bruns- wick, Maine, Bequest of The Hon. James Bowdoin III Joullain s rare choice of the Torre setting suggests that in his time there was little understanding of the site's historical importance. That appreciation did not come until the early years of the nine- teenth century, when the ruins at- tracted the attention of archaeolo- gists. The recovery of precious decorative materials and of such treasures as the Torlonia Livia lent new interest to the Torre dei Schiavi, and excavations were con- ducted nearly continuously from the 1830s to the 1870s. The site simultaneously attracted attention for a very different reason—it was there that Rome's large community of German artists assembled for their annual Walpurgisnacht festivals, events which grew in popularity through the middle decades of the century (fig. 7). The German revels quickly became a popular attraction for Ro- man visitors of many nationalities, 21 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 7 Ippolito Caffi, The Artists' Party7 near Tor de' Schiavi, 1839. Oil on canvas, 32 1/4 x 58 11/16 in. Museo di Roma whose carriages followed the art- ists' procession across the Cam- pagna to the Torre dei Schiavi. Many of the era's travel accounts took note of the colorful event. "I do not think a foreign colony ever or- ganized abroad a national festival with spirit and originality to com- pare with this," wrote Francis Wey; "the enormity of the farce in it rep- resents the old German gaiety, while the picturesque display of the spec- tacle could only have been imag- ined by artists."20 The artists' fol- lies inevitably attracted other paint- ers from Rome's international com- munity, such as Henri Regnault, who made illustrations of the Wal- purgisnacht festivities, and Walter Crane, who later recounted one such May Day spectacle: The central feature of the one I re- member was a gorgeous domed Moorish divan on wheels, with an Emperor of Morocco and his harem sitting inside; behind and be- fore went a great company of art- ists of all nationalities in all sorts of costumes—some as seventeenth- century Spanish cavaliers on horse- back, some as burlesque field mar- shals with enormous cocked hats, jackboots, and sabres riding on donkeys. The caterer of the picnic (a well-known artists colorman) was attired as a sort of white liz- ard, with a tall conical hat, and a long robe on which were painted lobsters, salads and other sugges- tions of luncheon.21 The crowd of artists and follow- ers assembled at the Torre dei Schiavi and from there proceeded across the Campagna for several miles to the grotto of Cervara (fig. 8). "At the moment of departure," wrote Wey, on a car festooned with garlands and drawn by four great oxen whose ample horns have been gilded, appears the President in the midst of his court of chamberlains, of madmen, and poets; he passes his countrymen in review, makes them a solemn and grotesque dis- course, and distributes to the wor- thiest the knightly order of the Baiocco; then the procession pro- ceeds on its way, escorted by its fourgon of wines, its cooking bat- tery, and its cup bearers, towards the grottos, chosen for a monster festival on account of their fresh- ness and their darkness, which is favorable to the effects of illumination. Upon arriving at the caves of Cervara, the artists entered: "At the bottom of the grotto a high priest calls up the Sibyl who, appearing in the midst of Bengal fires, recites 22 Fall 1987 8 Henri Regnault, German Masquerading; The March Past. Wood engraving, in Fran- cis Wey, Rome (New York: D. Appleton, 1875) in comic verses the exploits of the school, and prophesies the desti- nies of its artists for the following year. A Homeric supper prepared and served by our friends on stone tables in the heart of the cavern, which is lighted by torches and fes- tooned by garlands, precedes the return."22 The annual outing, how- ever frivolous, was also decorous, and George Hillard was able to re- assure his American readers that al- though "the day is spent in the wildest and most exuberant frolic, [it] rarely or never, however, degen- erate^] into vulgar license or coarse excess, but preserves] the flavor of wit and the spice of genu- ine enthusiasm."23 The May Day rites at the Torre dei Schiavi provided an important occasion for artists of various na- tionalities to celebrate together on common ground. Equally impor- tant, the festivities introduced many in the Roman community for the first time to the Gordian ruins and their beautiful views across the Campagna. It was, after all, the scenic splendor of this rise in the countryside that had lured the em- perors in the first place, and that beauty remained undiminished af- ter fifteen hundred years. Hillard recommended the site to his read- ers, for though these ruins are not much in themselves, they are so happily placed that they form a favorite sub- ject for artists. [T]he chief charm of the spot consists in the unrivalled beauty of the distant view which it commands; revealing, as it does, all the characteristic features of the Campagna. On the extreme left, towers the solitary bulk of Soracte, a hermit mountain which seems to have wandered away from its kin- dred heights, and to live in remote and unsocial seclusion. On the right dividing it from the Sabine chain is the narrow lateral valley of the Tiber; and further on the ho- rizon is walled up by the imposing range of the Sabine Hills, whose peaks, bold, pointed and irregular, have the true grandeur, and claim affinity with the great central chain of the Appenines.24 With the rise of the landscapist's art in the United States, such natu- ral splendors predictably attracted increasing numbers of American painters to the Torre dei Schiavi from the 1840s onward. Almost un- failingly these artists included in their views not only the distant ^y-viouii^ 10 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 24 Fall 1987 11 Edward Lear, The Tor di Schiavi on the Via Labicana, 1842. Oil on canvas, 9 1/4 X 17 1/2 in. Present whereabouts unknown 9 (opposite) Attributed to John Gadsby Chap- man, Excavations in the Campagna, 1837. Oil on canvas, 30 5/8 x 55 5/8 in. Paul Moro, Inc., New York 10 (opposite) Thomas Cole, Torre dei Schiavi, Campagna di Roma, 1842. Oil on wood, 14 3/4 x 24 in. Private Collection Campagna prospect but also the ru- ined circular mausoleum, a power- fully evocative object within the Campagnas expanse. The excavations at the Torre fig- ured in several views of the site. In an expansive canvas attributed to John Gadsby Chapman, workers busily retrieve fragments of statu- ary, urns, and even a human skull from the columbaria (fig. 9). Such recoveries from "the glory that was Rome" inevitably fired the imagina- tions of visitors from the New World and made a special magnet of the Torre and the entire Campagna. Chapman, a longtime resident of Rome, was so taken with the archaeological activity at the Torre dei Schiavi that he visited the site frequently and his enthusi- asm inspired his son, John Linton Chapman, to paint the ruin as well. In 1842 Thomas Cole discov- ered the Torre. His depiction of it (fig. 10) shows a less busy, more contemplative scene than Chapmans. Cole's view of the mau- soleum from its unfractured "back" side is unusual, presenting a less ruinous structure. The fabled golden sun of central Italy rises be- hind the tower and over the Sabine Hills, accentuating the unbroken oculus and suffusing the landscape with its glow. In both point of view and mood, Cole differs strikingly from the Chapmans and from Edward Lear, who also painted the Torre in the same year (fig. 11). The urbane Englishman depicted the more familiar broken facade, past which peasants amble toward the city in the distance, suggesting the monument's placement in com- munity and in a historical contin- uum, linking the ancient past to the colorful present. Despite the crowds of peasants, archaeologists, and painters that often attended the site, Cole populates his view with but a lone goatherd, seem- ingly lost in timeless contemplation of the romantic scene. Cole's lonely herdsman became a favorite motif for a number of Torre painters at mid century. He reappeared in 1849 in two draw- ings by Jasper Francis Cropsey (fig. 12), perhaps studies for an unlo- 25 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 12 Jasper Francis Cropsey, Torre dei Schiavi: The Roman Campagna, 1849. Pencil, broum wash and Chinese white on brown paper, 41/8x5 11/16 in. The Metropoli- tan Museum of Art, Charles and Anita Blatt Fund 13 (opposite) Sanford Robinson Gifford, Torre di Schiavi, Campagna di Roma, ca. 1864. Oil on canvas, 8 1/2 x 15 3/4 in. Henry Melville Fuller 14 (opposite) George Yewell, Torre dei Schiavi, 1860s. Oil on board, 51/2x8 3/4 in. University of Iowa Museum of Art, Iowa City, Gift of Oscar Coast cated painting of the scene that the artist exhibited in Buffalo in 1861,25 as well as in views by San- ford Gifford (fig. 13), Thomas Hotchkiss, George Yewell (fig. 14 ), and David Maitland Armstrong. The herdsman's thatched hut is neigh- bor to the monument in John Rollin Tiltons version of the Torre (fig. 15). During the middle de- cades of the century, many other Americans painted at the ruins, among them John F. Kensett, Christopher Cranch, William S. Haseltine, Elihu Vedder, Eugene Benson, Conrad Wise Chapman, and Thomas Hicks. The frequent appearance of these views at mid century indi- cates the monument s sudden popularity among American artists and their audiences—surprising in light of its relative neglect over most of the preceding millennium. One reviewer, for instance, singled out Tiltons painting of the ruins for special praise: "Among the smaller pictures in o i l . . . we are inclined to value most the Torre dei Schiavi, on the Campagna, which is distinctly drawn, and has infused into it an impressive sense of solemnity and lonely memo- ries."26 The Torre painters often admired each others efforts. For in- stance, his friends particularly val- ued Vedders small landscape com- positions for their "realism taken directly from nature and studied profoundly, [such a s ] . . . the Roman Campagna with Tor de Schiavi [s/c]." And Vedder reciprocated the praise, inscribing his painting of the scene (fig. 16) with the leg- 26 Fall 1987 15 John Rollin Tilton, Torre di Schiavi, n.d. Oil on canvas, 11 x 23 in. Present where- abouts unknown 16 Elihu Vedder, Ruins, Torre di Schiavi, ca. 1868. Oil on panel, 15 1/2 x 5 1/4 in. Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute, Utica, N. K, Gift of Robert Palmiter end: "A good subject—Hotchkiss used to go out there frequently... [and] made some good things at the Torre dei Schiavi."2"7 That a number of painters repeated the scene of "solemnity and lonely memories11 implies a special mean- ing for the subject, as well as a ready market for the Torre views. Hotchkiss's two canvases, painted in 1864 and 1865 (fig. 17), are among the most ambitious and accomplished of the group. In each he opted for a horizontal format, well suited to the expansive sweep of the Campagna landscape and used by nearly all the artists. (The broad vista compelled Haseltine, unique among his colleagues, to paint the view from, rather than of, the mausoleum, looking westward toward Rome and St. Peter s distant dome [fig. 18].) Hotchkiss s fre- quent visits and familiarity with the site yielded the most faithful re- cordings of archaeological detail. He carefully drew the interior niches, the curious notched bands on the buildings exterior, the frag- ments of ornately carved archi- traves and capitals, and the boy- and-dolphin motif of the mosaic pavement, which was also de- scribed by Nibby. (His eye for his- torical detail brought Hotchkiss financial as well as aesthetic re- wards, for as Vedder recorded, " 'twas here he found a niche in this Columbarium which had not been discovered a beautiful glass vase and sold it for a good sum of money which came in well in those days."28) A human skull and bones near the columbaria at the lower left serve as the works me- mento mori; in the second canvas this mood is completed by a herds- man, lost in reverie on this scene of ruined Roman glory. Vedder's view of the ruins (see fig. 16) differed markedly from all others. In lieu of the usual horizon- tal format, Vedder's small oil is em- phatically tall and narrow. Like other Campagna sketches he painted during the 1860s, his view employs the eccentric format of the Macchiaioli artists with whom he was in close association. The painting, which Vedder left unfin- ished, is more spontaneous, more sketchlike, than most of the Ameri- can productions. The elongated canvas eliminates most of the roll- ing landscape and distant hills and focuses closely upon the verdant ground and the broken mauso- leum, whose brickwork is warmed by the suns slanting rays. The circu- lar building occupies exclusive at- tention in the upper half of the composition and is set off below by a corner of newly excavated columbarium and broken pottery. These two focal points—the frac- tured building echoed in the pot shards—are visually and psycho- logically locked in perfect balance. Absent the herdsman in reverie, without the distant Campagna pros- pects bathed in warm Italian light, even lacking the archaeological de- tail that gave resonance to other in- terpretations, Vedder's small Torre view nevertheless provides one of the most telling and poignant evo- cations of past Roman glory. So popular was the Torre dei Schiavi that figure painters as well as landscapists turned to the monu- ment. In 1867-68 Conrad Wise Chapman painted a suite of The Four Seasons, a traditional allegori- cal subject that the American treated in the colorful costume of Italian peasants much favored by foreign artists in Italy. These models, bedecked in their regional finery, were the subject of many fig- ure studies, their ubiquity suggest- ing that for foreigners the peasant had come to symbolize the historic land. In Chapman's depiction of the harvest season, a gleaner in tra- ditional peasant dress of the cen- tral region stands before the Torre dei Schiavi (fig. 19). The symbolic authority of the peasant figure is 28 Fall 1987 17 Thomas Hotchkiss, Torre di Schiavi, 1865. Oil on cant os, 22 3 8 x 34 3/4 in. Na- tional Museum of American Art, Smithso- nian Institution, Museum Purchase augmented by its pairing with the Torre, which had become an equally potent symbol of Italy for Chapman and his compatriots. In the same year, Thomas Hicks composed his Italian Mother and Child (fig. 20). The association of allusive figures with Roman ruins had by then become a common- place in many artists' works. Daniel Huntington's Italy (fig. 21), for in- stance, posed the symbol of nation- hood between a Tuscan bell tower, which evoked the Catholic piety of modern Italians, and ancient ruins which harkened back to the glory that was Rome. Beyond the parapet in Hicks's painting, the remains of the Torre dei Schiavi are clearly evident—suggesting that the woman is no ordinary Italian mother but, indeed, Mother Italy. More than their scenic character is required to explain the phe- nomenal popularity of these par- ticular ruins at mid century. If the Torre dei Schiavi could appropri- ately accompany Mater Italia, if it could embody the fabled grandeur of legendary Rome, might it not have played other roles and prompted other reveries as well? Despite Bruno Schrader's warn- ing that the Torre dei Schiavi desig- nation had nothing to do with slav- ery, most commentators persisted in the notion that the monument was somehow—in a way never clearly specified—linked with such Roman practices and to slave insur- rections during the late Empire. The discovery of several colum- baria adjacent to the Torre, purport- edly containing inscriptions of "liberti," further fueled that roman- tic association.29 Such associations would, of course, have been highly topical in the mid nineteenth century when American artists' pilgrimages to Rome and the Campagna were at their peak. This tourism coincided with the cresting of abolitionist sen- timent in the United States and Brit- 29 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 18 William Stanley Haseltine, Torre degli Schiavi, Campagna Romana, 1856. Oil on canvas, 13 3/4 x 19 1/2 in. North Caro- lina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Gift of Helen Haseltine in memory ofW. R. Valentiner <19 20 Conrad Wise Chapman, The Four Seasons (Harvest), 1867-68. Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 1/4 in. Present whereabouts unknown Thomas Hicks, Italian Mother and Child, 1868. Oil on canvas, 363/4 x 29 1/2 in. North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Gift of John W. Bailey 21 (opposite) Daniel Huntington, Italy, 1843. Oil on canvas, 38 5/8 x 29 1/8 in. Na- tional Museum of American Art, Smithson- ian Institution. Museum Purchase ain and with America's seemingly inevitable slide toward civil war. It seems scarcely accidental that the "Tower of Slaves" enjoyed such fa- vor among American painters and that depictions of the once obscure ruin became most frequent in the troubled decade of the 1860s. Although Americans in Italy were safely removed from the ca- lamities of the Civil War at home, they were scarcely unaware or unaf- fected by the tragic events, and many of the artists believed strongly in the Union cause. Their liberal sympathies had extended to European struggles as well— including the Greeks' war of inde- pendence, the revolutionaries of 1848, and those involved in the movement for Italian unification. In that matrix of political and social issues, the huge popularity of an image such as Hiram Powers s Greek Slave becomes understand- able, adding another dimension to its aesthetic appeal. In 1848 in Flor- ence, where the expatriate Powers had carved his slave, he conceived the allegorical figure of America (fig. 22), a heroic symbol of Liberty and a prototype for Bartholdfs fa- mous statue in New York Harbor. Journalists on occasion resorted to ancient precedent to describe the bloody struggle between the Union forces and the Confederacy. In 1861, for instance, the American Fall 1987 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 22 Hiram Powers, America, 1848-50. Plaster, 89 3/16 x 35 3/16 x 16 7/8 in. National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian In- stitution, Museum purchase in memory of Ralph Cross Johnson "CAESAR IMPERATOR!" THE AMERICAN GLADIATORS. 23 "Caesar Imperator!" or, The American Glad- iators, 1861. Engraving in Punch, or the London Charivari, 18 May 1861, p. 203 war was depicted by Punch car- toonists in Roman terms, as "Caesar Imperator f or, The Ameri- can Gladiators (fig. 23), reflecting the conjunction of two of the peri- od's major preoccupations, previ- ously distinct—Italomania and na- tional preservation. Given this predilection for alle- gory and historicism in Europe and America, the sudden popularity of the "Tower of Slaves" owes as much to metaphor as to monu- ment. American painters and pa- trons, untroubled by the lack of cor- roborating facts, readily tied the Torre dei Schiavi to legendary slave battles of an earlier empire. For them the monument on the Campagna became an architectural surrogate for Liberty, symbolic of their optimistic faith in the Ameri- can cause. Notes 1 John Gait, The Life, Studies, and Works of Benjamin West (London: Cadell and Davies, 1820), p. 84. 2 Quoted in Otto Wittmann, "The Italian Experience (American Artists in Italy 1830-1875 )," American Quarterly, Spring 1952, p. 5. 3 Quoted in Otto Wittmann, "The Attrac- tion of Italy for American Painters," An- tiques 85, no. 5 (May 1964): 553. 4 Worthington Whittredge, "Autobiogra- phy," Brooklyn Museum Journal, 1942, p. 350. 5 Quoted in Wittmann, "The Italian Expe- rience," p. 12. 6 Peale, Notes on Italy (Philadelphia: 1831), p. 105; Vedder quoted in Marga- ret R. Scherer, Mangels of Ancient Rome (New York: Phaidon, 1955), fig. 154; "ro- mance of ruins" quotation from Etienne- Jean Delecluze, Two Lovers in Rome, Being Extracts from the Journal and Letters of Etienne-Jean Delecluze, ed. Louis Desternes and trans. Gerard Hopkins (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1958), p. 92. 7 Quoted in Wendy M. Watson, Images of Italy: Photography in the Nineteenth Century (South Hadlev, Mass.: Mount Holvoke College Museum of An, 1980), p. 48. 8 Abbe Dupaty, Travels through Italy... in the Year 1785 (London, 1788), p. 153. 9 Taine, Italy: Florence and Venice, trans. J. Durand (New York: Ley, Oldt & Holt, 1869), pp. 1 - 2 ; 1820 quote in Charlotte A. Eaton, Rome in the Nineteenth Cen- tury, vol. 1 (1820; reprint London: Henry G. Bohn, I860), p. 13. 10 "Fearsome loneliness" in ibid., p. 64; Story, Roha di Roma (London: Chap- man & Hall, 1875), p. 3 1 1 . 1 1 Taylor, Views Afoot (New York: Putnam, 1859), p. 405; Dickens, Pictures from Italy, and American Notes (London: Chapman & Hall, 1862), p. 143; quota- tion by American tourist in Henry P. Leland, Americans in Rome (New York: Charles T. Evans, 1863), p. 198. 1 2 Brooks, The Dream of Arcadia-. Ameri- can Writers and Artists in Italy, 1760- 1915 (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1958), p. 90. 1 3 George Stillman Hillard, Six Months in Italy ( Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1856), p. 315. 14 Quoted in Robert Burn, Rome and the Campagna: An Historical and Topo- graphical Description (Cambridge and London: 1871), p. 418. 1 5 N ibby, Analisi Storico—Topografico— Antiquaria della Carta deDintorno di Roma, vol. 3 (Rome, 1857), p. 7 1 1 ; Hare, Walks in Rome (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1923), p. 427. 16 The identification of San Andrea was first proposed by Nibby, p. 712. See also Bruno Schrader, Die Romische Campagna (Leipzig: E. A. Seeman, 1910), p. 62. 1 7 Baedeker, Italy: Handbook for Travel- lers. Part 2: Central Italy and Rome (London: Williams & Norgate, 1867), p. 3 1 2 . 18 Schrader, p. 62. 32 Fall 1987 19 Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Le antichita romane (Rome: Stamperia di Angelo Rotilja, 1756), e.g., vol. 2, plates 29, 59, 60. 20 Wey, Rome (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1875), p. 269. 21 Crane, An Artist's Reminiscences (New York: Macmillan, 1907), p. 137. 22 Wey, p. 269. 23 Hillard, p. 316. 24 Ibid., p. 315. 25 The Cropsey painting and a number of other works referred to here are in- cluded in the National Museum of American Art's Index to American Art Exhibition Catalogues from the Begin- ning through the 1876 Centennial Year, compiled by the Smithsonian In- stitution's National Museum of Ameri- can Art (Boston: G. K. Hall, 1986). 26 "Mr. Tilton's Pictures," Atlantic Monthly 47, no. 280 (February 1881): 291. 27 Quotation on realism from American Academy of Arts and Letters, Exhibition of the Works of Elihu Vedder (New York, 1937), p. 20; Vedder quoted in Gwendolyn Owens and John Peters- Campbell, Golden Day, Silver Night: Per- ceptions of Nature in American Art, 1850-1910 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Herbert F. Johnson Museum of An, 1983), p. 102. 28 Ibid. 29 For Schrader's warning, see n. 16; late editions of Murray's Handbook refer to such a discovery in the spring of 1874; others were possibly found earlier. Nei- ther the accuracy nor the significance of the inscriptions can be determined. See A Handbook of Rome and the Campagna (London: John Murray, 1899), p. 398. 20 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 
work_2wxlcgnwiren7bzo6sj2gislcq	----	<italic>Walden; or, Life in the Woods</italic> by Henry David Thoreau Walden; or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau Author(s): Barbara Celarent Source: American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 115, No. 2 (September 2009), pp. 649-655 Published by: The University of Chicago Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/648657 . Accessed: 19/06/2011 17:56 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucpress. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. The University of Chicago Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to American Journal of Sociology. http://www.jstor.org http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucpress http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/648657?origin=JSTOR-pdf http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucpress Book Reviews 649 placement. Data for the same cohort observed at different periods do not show a trend toward more mobility. Increasing relative mobility for co- horts, in turn, is explained by educational expansion. The puzzle then becomes why later cohorts in Britain, a country that also experienced educational expansion, did not show more mobility. This would be the case since in Germany the effect of origin on destination is lower at higher levels of education, whereas things are not like that in Britain. But Breen and Luijkx leave this puzzle as a matter for further research. Karl Ulrich Mayer and Silke Aisenbrey’s paper goes beyond that of Breen and Luijkx. Mayer is the German sociologist who recognized that questions of the type “How much father-son class mobility is there in the population of country x at time y?” are rather poor, who popped the pertinent question, and who collected appropriate data. A question about mobility always should invoke two points in time, and the hidden point in the poor question stands for quite different points in time, since the observed people differ in age. Mayer set out in the early 1980s to collect occupational histories for cohorts born in 1920 and for later ones. Against this background, it is remarkable that Breen and Luijkx seem to code persons currently without a job after their last job. That decision forecloses the “special issue” of whether early retirement differs for cohorts. By comparing for various cohorts the origins of persons with their class at age 27 and at age 35, Mayer and Aisenbrey show that the trend toward more father-son and father-daughter relative class mobility reversed with the early 1960s cohort. They too leave this puzzle for further research. Mayer and Aisenbrey say that their chapter provides variations on the theme of mobility. This metaphor misleads. The theme of the generation of mobility sociologists to which Breen and Luijkx belong contains false notes, and readers should know. Walden; or, Life in the Woods. By Henry David Thoreau. Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1854. Pp. 357. Barbara Celarent* University of Atlantis The emergence of a fully theorized environmental sociology after 2015 brought Walden briefly into sociological prominence. But its semiauto- biographical framework and allusive density made it ill-suited to a dis- cipline with one foot in the scientific study of society, even if the other foot was firmly placed in Thoreau’s home turf—the normative under- standing of social life. Worse yet, the endless riches of Thoreau’s journals proved an inescapable temptation to discover “what Walden really * Another review from 2048 to share with AJS readers.—Ed. American Journal of Sociology 650 means,” reinforcing the book’s status as fixed literary classic rather than open social theory. Yet Walden has much broader sociological relevance than we have usually thought. Of course, it is a central work for environmental soci- ology. But to its theory of man/environment relations it adds theories of consumption, social relations, space-time, and action. Ostensibly auto- biographical, it is nonetheless a sociological classic. It is ironic that Thoreau’s sociological relevance should be urged by one who is neither an American nor a landsman. But sociological canons are usually made by foreigners. It was after all Americans who started the vogue for Durkheim and Weber, just as they would later for Foucault and Habermas. And conversely it took Europeans and Asians to release the theoretical core of the Chicago school from the trammels of its self- veneration. Walden is a short text, but a long read—a paradox not at first apparent. One revels in its simple aphorisms for many pages before realizing that everything in it—from metaphor and paragraph to topic and chapter— is designed by a complex and even devious mind. Thoreau writes very self-consciously—sometimes annoyingly so. Allusions abound. Indeed, the counterpoint of themes and references and arguments becomes at times overwhelming. For Thoreau does not write in rigorous abstractions, be they macrosociological or metatheoretical or even phenomenological. There is no list of concepts, no polemic with predecessors: no formal propositions or clearcut definitions. He simply bushwhacks through the intellectual underbrush that lies between his own particularities and what is universal in the human project. That is the very definition of theory, and if one of Thoreau’s paradoxical conclusions is that our particularities cannot be (indeed should not be) escaped, we are all the wiser for having made the journey, scratches and all. As schoolchildren learn, Walden presents Thoreau’s reflections on two years spent living in a small cabin he built by a pond in Concord, Mas- sachusetts, on land owned by his friend and mentor, the essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson. It begins with a review of the classical problems of social theory by means of reflections on Thoreau’s cabin-building and settle- ment. We see all the stuff of social life: eating, drinking, talking, reading, and working, and beyond them the fundamentals of valuing, acting, and feeling. Love alone escapes, as it escaped—except in one essay and one brief moment—Henry David Thoreau himself. The book then works through the annual cycle, from summer planting in the bean field to autumn moon and harvest, to the frozen pond in winter (whose ice literally supports Thoreau’s elaborately “scientific” in- vestigation of its depths), and finally to the return of spring. “Thus was my first year’s life in the woods completed, and the second year was similar to it,” Thoreau tells us, managing in one characteristically dense sentence to paraphrase the Bible (AV Matt. 22:39), emphasize cyclical temporality, and deftly misrepresent his own activity. He has never told Book Reviews 651 the reader that his main work in two years at Walden was to write or edit three book-length manuscripts, including the first draft (there were seven total) of Walden itself. Nor are we much aware that during his two Walden years he was at one point jailed for civil disobedience and at another took a two week trip to locate and climb Maine’s dramatic roof- top, Mount Katahdin. Any reading must begin with the most familiar Thoreau—the Thoreau who placed man in nature. Walden’s nature is not the Enlightenment’s nature: sublime, awesome, and inscrutable, a challenge to human daring and an omnipotent boundary to human power. Thoreau was not John Franklin, who sailed to icy immortality in the Northwest Passage only a month before Thoreau moved to Walden Pond. He did not seek the North- west Passage; he sought himself. Like Petrarch and Augustine before him, he found humans to be the most puzzling and profound works of nature. Thoreau’s embedding of humanity in nature is clearest not in his ar- guments but in his choice of metaphors. Throughout the book nature is described in human/social metaphors and vice versa. In the brilliant chap- ter “Sounds,” the morning train leaves “a train of clouds stretching far behind and higher and higher, going to heaven while the cars are going to Boston,” while a few pages later “the whippoorwills chanted their vespers for half an hour.” The whole chapter “Solitude” argues that nature provides authentic society, while shortly afterward “The Village” describes Concord as a beast with vital organs, defines news as a grain consumed by “worthies” with “sound digestive organs,” and identifies gossip as “whatever was in the wind” (precisely the same words Thoreau had used for his own ecstatic listening to nature in the opening pages of the book). “Brute Neighbors” allegorizes local fauna—an ant war occupies several pages—and “The Pond in Winter” uses the dimensions of frozen Walden to discuss human ethics. By contrast, “Former Inhabitants” treats bygone locals as passing animals, and in “Visitors” a Canadian woodchopper becomes a (much admired) “animal man.” This melding of the human and the natural rejects the common view that Thoreau aims to exchange society for nature. Rather, he wants to embrace the natural: to collaborate with nature, since we are ourselves natural beings. Not for Thoreau the model (capitalist) farm, “a great grease-spot, redolent of manures and buttermilk. Under a high state of cultivation, being manured with the hearts and brains of men.” He prefers an unmediated, noncommercial encounter with the physical and biological world around us. In sociology, we have seldom theorized such an en- counter. There have been various beginnings; the turn-of-the-century de- bate about gender essentialism, the 19th-century obsession with instincts, the reductionist frivolities of cognitive neuroscience. And of course there are the earnest arguments of more recent environmental sociology. But we still await a truly general theory of man in nature to complement our theories of man in society. While Thoreau’s insertion of man in nature shapes his theory of society American Journal of Sociology 652 decisively, we must recognize here two very different readings of that theory. In the 19th- and 20th-century reading, Thoreau withdrew from society to nature, thereby reducing society to its ultimate unit, the indi- vidual. For such readers, Thoreau rejected not only capitalism and com- merce, but indeed everyday social life itself. The more modern reading has noted that Thoreau left Walden without regret after two years. In later life, he would never forsake the natural world, but neither did he hide in it from future challenges. On this reading, Thoreau at the pond represents not so much an individual as he does the whole of human society itself. He seeks the essentials not only of personal life in nature, but indeed of social life in nature. These essentials are set forth in the early chapters. Political economy is, to be sure, mercilessly parodied (“while [the poor student] is reading Adam Smith, Ricardo, and Say, he runs his father in debt irretrievably”). But at the same time Thoreau considers the basics of food, shelter, and barter as forthrightly as did Smith himself. Indeed, Thoreau’s hymn to the railroad and its commerce (in “Sounds”) is every bit as extravagant as anything in Smith. The railroad is a comet, a rising sun. The ripped sails it carries to the papermaker are “proof sheets that need no correction,” their condition telling “the history of the storms they have weathered.” Commerce, he tells us, is “unexpectedly confident and serene, alert, ad- venturous, and unworried.” Indeed, commercial men may be among the “strong and valiant natures” that Thoreau thinks have no need to read Walden, because they already live as Thoreau would have us live: delib- erately rather than habitually, in the present rather than in the future. In his systematic shedding of what he feels to be the inessentials of social life, Thoreau seems akin to Rousseau, the Romantics, and the other world rejecters. But the book’s narrative is more subtle. It does begin with detachment from everyday society: from the burden of property, from the slavery of divided labor, from the dominance of clock time, from the endless sway of fashion and opinion. (And, it must be noted, from women; there is a fog of misogyny in the early chapters that burns off slowly as Thoreau warms to his task.) But after this detachment, Thoreau parts company with the Romantics, whose ecstasies never ripened into the rigors of subsistence living. For the shedding of inessentials leaves life—both individual and so- cial—founded on necessities: on the one hand, the necessities of daily life—manual labor, exercise, preparation of food; on the other, the ne- cessities of spiritual life—contemplation of the natural world (and of “nat- ural” human artifacts like the railroad) coupled with reading of the clas- sics, of descriptive writing, and of philosophical reflection. By refounding life in daily and spiritual necessities, we can finally see nature for itself, without mediation, in its full complexity. This vision in turn enables a refounding of the self (and, by implication, of society). This self refounded on essentials can return safely to the quotidian world, for it can see reality Book Reviews 653 through the veils of cant and hypocrisy. More important, it can enact reality itself. There is for Thoreau a considerable heroism to this enactment, and the theme of heroism and nobility, strong in the opening pages (where it is tied to the misogyny—one can read Walden as a first essay in the 19th- century reinterpretation of masculinity), runs through the book like a flowing stream. Yet in the end, curiously, the hero is man the dreamer— the artist of Kouroo who strives after perfection, the woodsman who leaves the wood lest he fall into the slough of habit. Thoreau may have admired the captains of capitalism who had no need of Walden. But the artist is his ideal. Like many great books (the Bible is a good example), Walden is obsessed with place and time. It takes its name from a particular place, and the book itself is full of places: the woods, the groves, the village, the ponds and bays. It is also full of links between those places: the railroad track, the turnpike, the paths, the river. Everything in Walden is situated, placed. Indeed, this complexity of place is another device linking man and nature, for Thoreau maps nature by his constant analogies to human geography. But Thoreau’s interwoven geography pales beside his multilayered tem- porality. Walden runs on many times. These include linear times—the Walden sojourn itself, the life course of the individual, the long pattern of human history (seen in the cellar holes around Walden as well as in the much longer endurance of the classics), and beyond all these the vast course of geological and astronomical time. They include also cyclical times—the day, the week, the year, and the irregular rise and fall not only of the pond itself, but also of commercial establishments, of societies, and of peoples. In the midst of all this flow, however, the book focuses intensely on mere being, in which time does not pass at all. Indeed, to dwell in the present is to live at the intersection of the linear and the cyclical, “at the still point of the turning world.” All of these temporalities are run together. For example, the life course is identified with the round of seasons in the book’s very design: Walden begins with the censorious certainty of youth, and passes through work and maturity to its end in the calm of wisdom. “I left the woods for as good a reason as I went there,” Thoreau tells us calmly in the epilogue. For suddenly the idyll is over. “There is an incessant influx of novelty in the world, and yet we tolerate incredible dulness.” To stay at Walden would be to risk that dulness, “a cabin passage”; Thoreau wants to be “before the mast, and on the deck of the world.” (The pun on “cabin” is typical Thoreau; one can easily miss it, whereas the reference to Dana’s Two Years before the Mast leaps out to all who have read sea literature.) Beyond these themes of essentials and of space and time lies Thoreau’s central theme for sociologists: his idea of action. Much is written of Weber’s analysis of action. But Talcott Parsons would have done better to read Thoreau, who invites us to reflect on what exactly it is to “live deliberately.” What Thoreau leaves behind in Concord are his routines. American Journal of Sociology 654 He wishes to intend everything that he does, and to do this he must leave his habits and even his past experience behind, as he will leave his wood- land habits behind in the last pages of Walden. There is (that is, there ought to be) no one set of necessities; there is only the necessity of finding a new present and living in it fully and deliberately. This is true liberation. Although he read so much in the literatures of the East, Thoreau does not follow that literature in its pervasive commitment to inaction, much less to that suppression of desire central to Buddhism (although he does speak of “the inexpressible satisfaction of food in which appetite [has] no share”). He remains committed to a contemplative life, but he would not always contemplate the same things. He has a wish for new experience. It is an obsession with Thoreau that such experience be authentic, that it should involve only the necessities of the self, not false needs implanted by others nor action undertaken to please others nor mediation through any collective will. It is this point that makes Thoreau hard as sociology; few have seemed more insistently individualist. Thoreau’s idea of socia- bility is sitting with a visiting fisherman and not speaking (“Visitors”). Indeed language itself is a problem. He much appreciates the Canadian woodchopper who cannot put his thoughts into words; so much the better, thinks Thoreau, for then those thoughts are unbetrayed. Thoreau’s theme here is that for which Habermas would later become famous. It is not that Thoreau values society little. Rather the reverse. Society, he tells us, is too cheap. We should be more careful of it. Thoreau, that is, wants social life to be like the natural world, to be authentic. He presumes authenticity in nature itself and speaks throughout of the nat- uralness of certain human things: of architecture, of persons, of farms, of the very pond itself. Yet we who read him can see that such “naturalness” is not really “natural.” “The Ponds” hymns Walden’s purity and its place in the endless round of nature. These we too can see in the pond. But Walden is after all an insignificant kettle pond, the remnant of a melting block of glacier whose sand and gravel impurities became the porous bottom that Thoreau so admires. So when Thoreau tells us that “a lake . . . is earth’s eye; looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature,” we begin to part company with him. We see that he is Don Quixote and that Walden, however tiny and plain, is his Dulcinea. Walden’s nature in all its purity and depth and complexity, above all in its rich symbolic panoply, is in fact the willed creation of Henry David Thoreau. And in this vision is society complete. Throughout the book, nature is itself a society: from ant wars to avian religious services to “piscine mur- der” to Waldensian pickerel. Thoreau is as much an outsider to societies of animals, plants, and inanimate nature as he is to the society of men. Yet nature, to Thoreau, is an honest society, and in that sense an ideal for the human one riven by deceptions and follies. In both kinds of so- cieties, Thoreau admires the deliberate actor: the animal that does what Book Reviews 655 it must, the pond that is what it is, the visitor who fishes in companionable silence. Even in commerce, he admires the bold and straightforward. Yet what is the aim of this action without illusion and deception, this contact with the necessities and realities? On this, Thoreau is much less clear. He is essentially contemplative, and his aim, in the end, is merely to see both nature and society for what they are. He knew full well—as sociologists should know—that seeing society for what it is inevitably means judging it. But in Walden at least, his moral program is completely negative: simplify life, shed illusions, minimize consumption, ignore fash- ion, and so on. These are the themes so many have taken from him. But his hymn to commerce suggests that he didn’t really believe this program. So also does the fact that he leaves Walden to return to the larger world. Indeed, one can imagine Thoreau writing a book like Walden about hu- man society. Hard Times, North and South, and Madame Bovary—all appearing within a year or two of Walden and none of them read by Thoreau—could all be taken as similarly single-minded meditations on the “natural” life of humans. As sociologists we are among the many inheritors of that literary tra- dition. And our aim, like Thoreau’s, is to see (social) life as it really is, to truly see it. This ties us to Thoreau’s program of “looking things in the eye,” of disillusionment (disenchantment was Weber’s word). But it also ties us to his view of that project as heroic and in some sense noble. And Thoreau ultimately turns the theme of disillusionment on its head; for him, seeing things as they are leads to reenchantment. The deliber- ateness with which Thoreau went to the woods, renouncing human il- lusion, becomes a deliberate imagination (i.e., a choice of illusion): “If one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life which he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.” For of course, even in the woods, we remain in society, the larger society of nature and the universe of which we are an insig- nificant—but to ourselves very interesting—part. Indeed, Thoreau leaves us not as the stoic and disillusioned Roman farmer of the opening pages, but as the Quixote in love with his own dream of a beautiful pond. “If you have built castles in the air, your work need not be lost. That is where they should be. Now put foundations under them.” No better place to look for foundation stone than in Walden. Read it. You will not be disappointed. 
work_2yhsmx2auvarpbzya3jzbodw34	----	Microsoft Word - Casilli_UnderstandingMedia_def2RELU.doc HAL Id: halshs-01055785 https://halshs.archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-01055785 Submitted on 17 Aug 2014 HAL is a multi-disciplinary open access archive for the deposit and dissemination of sci- entific research documents, whether they are pub- lished or not. The documents may come from teaching and research institutions in France or abroad, or from public or private research centers. L’archive ouverte pluridisciplinaire HAL, est destinée au dépôt et à la diffusion de documents scientifiques de niveau recherche, publiés ou non, émanant des établissements d’enseignement et de recherche français ou étrangers, des laboratoires publics ou privés. How to Talk about Media You Haven’t Understood Antonio Casilli To cite this version: Antonio Casilli. How to Talk about Media You Haven’t Understood. Journal of Visual Culture, SAGE Publications, 2014, 13 (1), pp.26-28. �10.1470412913509445�. �halshs-01055785� https://halshs.archives-ouvertes.fr/halshs-01055785 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr     Antonio A. Casilli (2014) “How to Talk about Media You Haven't Understood”. Journal of Visual Culture, special themed issue - "Marshall McLuhan’s Understanding Media at 50", vol. 13, n. 1, pp. 26-28. doi: 10.1177/1470412913509445 How to talk about media you haven’t understood In his essay How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read, French literary critic Pierre Bayard insists that the act of reading is not essential to the appreciation of the essence of a book—as long as we know how to position it in the broader ecosystem of a literary genre or of a field of knowledge. Following Oscar Wilde’s tongue-in-cheek advice never to read a text one must review (‘it prejudices you so…’), Bayard advocates the right to non-reading, in order to stimulate our creative imagination. I, for one, have been sticking to this principle for most of my adult life. I’ve put off reading certain books as much as possible, while in the meantime avidly studying germane texts, secondary sources, and critical appraisals, so to have a comprehensive panorama of the literary environment of their authors. Moreover, this procrastination allows me to fantasize about their opinions, their style, their concealed intentions. I call this ‘beating around the book.’ McLuhan’s Understanding Media is no exception. For years I’ve been leafing through excerpts and commentaries—never the real thing. And to this day I wouldn’t even have opened it, were it not for my students. When I started teaching classes on (new) media studies, the 1964 classic was on every list of compulsory readings. Reluctantly, I had to put my hands on a copy, too. It was the mid-noughties and the emphasis was on ‘social’ and participatory media. That largely shaped my expectations as to the content of the book.     That also determined my initial disappointment as to what I deemed was missing in McLuhan’s work. There I had an author who clearly drew inspiration from Harold Innis, who considered technologies as tools mediating processes of diffusion of cultural forms across spatial and time biases, and yet showed little awareness of the part played by human intermediaries in the transmission of messages across geographic, social and demographic boundaries. While his contemporaries Elihu Katz and Paul F. Lazarsfeld where already reflecting on how media contents moved across social networks via opinion leaders, brokers, and mediators, McLuhan didn’t seem to take into account that part of the equation. His manifold influences included Edward T. Hall, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, none of whom (except maybe the last one) qualifies as an early pioneer of ‘social’ and ‘new’ media studies. In a way it was like McLuhan’s work left the role of social ties as structuring forces of diffusion untackled. From this point of view, situating Understanding Media in the larger field of communication and social sciences revealed more arduous than I thought. Yet, this realization coincided with the moment when my initial disappointment turned into genuine interest. I was intrigued by the fact this work exposed a schism between a holistic stance, descriptive and focusing on the content of mediatic communication, and a more empirically-driven one, micro- and meso- sociologically-oriented, sensitive to the context of the mediated communication. For the former, McLuhan’s catchphrase ‘The medium is the message’ was valid. For the latter, it was also valid but – in an admittedly less incisive phrasing – it read: ‘The medium is the structure of the social network describing the ties between the social agents uttering the message.’ No incident summarizes the tension between these two approaches better than the 1955 Columbia University Teacher’s College seminar clash that opposed the then-     budding Canadian information theorist and the dean of US sociology, Robert K. Merton. The anecdote is related in Paul Levinson’s Digital McLuhan, one of the germane books I engaged with while postponing reading Understanding Media: [Merton stood up] purpled with outrage and proceeded to say: ‘Just about everything in your paper requires cross-examination!’ He started with the first paragraph, sonorously ticking off all the points in want of further explanation, a William Jennings Bryan making a closing argument to the jury about why the accused should be found guilty of murdering the scholarly procedure. (Levinson, 1999:24) Retrospectively, I cannot help thinking that Merton was somehow set against McLuhan by Lazarsfeld with whom, one year before, he had co-written Friendship as a Social Process, the text establishing the notion of homophily as the individual propensity to communicate and create preferential ties with persons displaying shared characteristics. For decades, their seminal contribution would remain relatively unknown outside a restricted circle of English-speaking academics, while McLuhan would go on to meet international success with Understanding Media. Here another type of schism comes to light, this time in terms of timing and public reception. If up to the 1990s McLuhan’s analysis were considered indispensable to figure out how ‘mass’ media worked, in the 2000s Merton and Lazarsfeld’s approach got the upper hand, as far as their approach turned out to be crucial to our grasp of how ‘social’ media function. Today’s interminable debates about online ‘echo chambers’, or the emphasis on the nature and effects of computer-mediated ‘friendships’, seem to respond to the theoretical framework established by the context-aware stance embodied by the two sociologists. Homophily in Internet social     networks stands as a prominent theoretical concern for scholars researching web- based political phenomena, cultural consumption, or relationship building. Yet this relative cyclicality betrays the fact that the two approaches are complementary, rather than opposed. The focus on content and the one on context go together—they alternate, interchange, the one lives in the negative space left by the decline of the other. Which is why today’s McLuhan’s voice still has something to say to our understanding of contemporary media. Even if, in fact, he did not understand them. REFERENCES Bayard, P (2007) How to talk about books you haven't read. New York, NY: Bloomsbury. Lazarsfeld, P. F. & R. K. Merton (1954) Friendship as a Social Process: A Substantive and Methodological Analysis. In: M. Berger, T. Abel, and C. H. Page (eds) Freedom and Control in Modern Society. New York: Van Nostrand: 18-66. Levinson, P (1999) Digital McLuhan: A Guide to the Information Millennium. London: Routledge. Antonio A. Casilli Economics & Social Sciences Department Telecom ParisTech (Ecole Nationale Supérieure des Télécommunications) Centre Edgar Morin, IIAC EHESS (Ecole des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales), Paris. 
work_32wquxn6wncgle4vcwtxtivabq	----	BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL 14 OCTOBER 1978 1065 alities recorded by pathologists carrying out necropsies at the coroner's command, which are not invariably the cause of death. Another important factor is the reluctance of coroners to mention abuse of or addiction to alcohol or to acknowledge suicide or the depression from which it stems. Death certificates not given by a coroner are usually com- pleted by the most junior and least experienced member of the hospital team responsible for the patient's care. Understandably therefore inaccurate impressions are sometimes conveyed. The smallest discrepancy between death certificates and case notes was in the group where no necropsies were performed. In cases where the cause of death is not in doubt efforts to persuade relatives to agree to permit a necropsy may be less persistent, and because no necropsy is performed a wrong clinical diagnosis may remain undisclosed. Although there were several discrepancies between certificates and case notes in names and dates of birth, such errors are not very important except in cases where the patient's name is all that is available, when difficulties in tracing the relevant death certificate may arise. The present certificate, in which the last diagnosis under section I is the real cause of death, might usefully be revised. Today a high proportion of entries under Ia are "cardiac arrest," which is how all of us will leave this world whatever the real cause of our death. The next most frequent entry is "bronchopneumonia"-the final curtain of so many chronic diseases.5 Section II, "Other significant conditions contributing to the death, but not relating to the disease or condition causing it," is not always capable of completion in a manner that may not mislead the epidemiological research worker. Death certificates are not primarily intended for epidemio- logical research-they are an important legal and social require- ment. Nevertheless, they are often used by research workers because they form a concise6 and convenient record. As we have shown, however, they are sometimes materially inaccurate and research based on them alone may not be secure, despite what Rose and Barker have recently said.7 The purpose of this paper is to try to improve the accuracy of the information which the OPCS receives. Thus coroners' certificates might be more accurate if the coroners more often consulted the clinician in charge, and other certificates would more closely reflect the cause of death if supplied by senior hospital staff. References James, G, Patton, R E, and Heslin, A S, Public Health Reports, 1955, 70, 32. 2 Registrar General's Statistical Review for 1956, Part III. 3 Heasman, M A, and Lipworth, L, Accuracy of Certification of Cause of Death. London, HMSO, 1966. 4 Waldron, H A, and Vickerstaff, L, Intimations of Quality. London, Nuffield Provincial Hospitals Trust, 1977. 5 Paton, A, British Medical Journal, 1972, 3, 287. 6 Adelstein, A M, Health Trends, 1977, 9, 78. 7 Rose, G, and Barker, D J P, British Medical Journal, 1978, 2, 803. (Accepted 15 September 1978) How to do it Raise funds A K THOULD British Medical_Journal, 1978, 2, 1065-1066 "Can anyone remember when the times were not hard, and money not scarce ?" Ralph Waldo Emerson The above quotation steeled my own resolve when attempting to raise funds for a major project, and lesson one about fund raising is-if you are convinced that the cause is worthy and the project viable, don't let anyone put you off, and don't be disheartened because the country is bankrupt. It is never the right time to raise money, so go ahead and do it anyway. Lesson two is that if you think fundraising is merely a matter of saying to yourself: "there are 300 000 people in this county, so if everyone gives 50p we will be home and dry"-forget it, go home, and tend your roses instead. Nobody is interested in handing over their hard-earned cash unless you can convince them that the whole scheme is sound, necessary, and appealing to them. After all, why should they? Fundraising is grinding Royal Cornwall Hospital, Truro, Cornwall TR1 3LJ A K THOULD, MD, FRCP, consultant physician hard work. You must be prepared to kiss your wife and the baby goodbye for many evenings, oecause you will need to address any number of lay meetings. You will spend many hours at the kitchen table with your spouse signing letters and putting them in envelopes. You will go through agonies of self- doubt and many crises of morale in your organisation. You will learn to endure the hunted look of your friends as they see you approach, hot with the news of your latest disaster/triumph. Fascinating for you; boring for them. If all this appears too much for you, with the seemingly endless hours of repetitive, slogging work, then don't go fundraising, not at any price- it is not for the faint-hearted. Basic organisation If you have lasted this far, and are still convinced of the right- ness of your cause and the glamour of your appeal, then the next step is to set up your basic organisation. First of all, you will need a small but select band of trusted (voluntary) and dedicated hard-working helpers. You must have a very good secretary/ typist, because you are going to need to send out a great many letters: thousands will be needed for a major appeal. Next, you need to gather together a small committee you can trust. The members will need to be long-suffering, industrious but o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B r M e d J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.2 .6 1 4 4 .1 0 6 5 o n 1 4 O cto b e r 1 9 7 8 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/ 1066 BRITISH MEDICAL JOURNAL 14 OCTOBER 1978 enthusiastic, and, if possible, experienced in this sort of thing. They should, if possible, be well known and respected in the community, with many contacts in the business and professional worlds. Do not have a big committee-it is much too hard to reach decisions if you do. I suggest about ten as the maximum. You will need a good solicitor, because he will set up your trust and do the legal work-for nothing, if you're lucky. You must have a good, painstaking treasurer, used to handling large amounts of money without getting nightmares, and able to keep proper accounts. Above all, you must have a good, decent chairman, well known in the area at large, and carrying with him/her the aura of trust. You ought to be the secretary yourself, and be prepared to do the dog work of arranging the committee business. You will need a bank account, and all cheques must be signed by the treasurer and yourself. Next you must get your solicitor to set your organisation up as a charitable trust. The procedure is tedious, but not particularly difficult, and be prepared for the Charity Commissioners to ask some searching and highly pertinent questions. When drawing up the articles of the trust, be sure you look ahead, so that you can continue to raise funds by way of the organisation in the future and can, within the articles, pursue whatever long-term projects you wish. Your solicitor will advise you. If you are successful, you will be given a number, and you must quote this in all your correspondence. If you don't, some charitable trusts may not be prepared to give you money. Where to start It is a good idea to start with a meeting to which you invite all the heads of the known fundraising organisations in your area, that is, the Women's Institute, Rotary Clubs, Lions, and so on. You will be surprised how many there are; you must find out who they are from your committee and local contacts, then draw up a list. Have your meeting in the early evening and provide sherry and whatnots to eat, but don't be too lavish. They will be looking for evidence that the money you raise goes to the appeal, not towards wasteful window dressing. Try not to be mean, however-the balance is important. Make up a brochure setting out your aims and objectives. Not glossy and expensively produced, but workmanlike and readable. A small book on the subject is unnecessary and will not be read. It needs to be short, informative, and to the point. Most of all, when someone asks you to go and give a talk on your project, then go, however inconvenient, and go at their time and convenience. Be prepared to answer questions and, above all, be honest and frank. If you feel your project needs a million pounds, then say so. The dissembler is soon mercilessly exposed and rightly so. Never underestimate your audience or talk down to them. They are probably more experienced at the game than you are. They are usually hard-headed but great-hearted people, and they need to be convinced of the essential worthiness and practicality of what you are doing. A further step is to get from the public library the published list of registered charities (there may be a waiting list to get it), then go through the three or four thousand listed there and see which ones may be interested in your cause. Write them a short letter setting out the facts and enclosing your brochure. About 95% of them will throw your application in the wastepaper basket. The other 5%O may give you some money. If you can, and they will let you, offer to go and see their trustees in person. Some recommend trying to raise money from the top thousand companies, but I have found this a waste of time. Only local industry seems to be interested in contributing to local causes, and this is all that one can expect. If there is a large industrial combine or combines near you, write to the managing director and go and see him. He will usually be courteous and give you a fair hearing. Just possibly, he may even advise his company to give you some money. Local businesses may be reached by looking them up in the yellow pages of the telephone directory; then write them a letter. The letters them- selves are important. They can be printed, using your appeal's logo at the head, but you must personally enter the name of the person you are writing to, and sign it personally. This will mean signing many hundreds of letters, possibly thousands. If you are not prepared to give the personal touch, then don't expect to get much money. Nothing is worse than the cold, printed impersonal letter. It looks as if you are not prepared to take trouble, and, if you don't sign it yourself, this is probably true. You must be prepared to go to endless donkey derbys, band festivals, sponsored walks, fetes, and whatever. After all, if they are prepared to go to that much trouble to raise money for you, the least you can do is turn up, and make a short speech of thanks. Anyway, it is all enormous fun for most of the time. Publicity and costs The local press will probably be interested and, in my experience, helpful, but they like to be kept informed of how things are going. In return, they will give you a few column inches of publicity at intervals. Be careful, however, about self- advertisement. It is a good idea to check with the Medical Defence Union about how far you can go. Almost any publicity is valuable, unless your treasurer makes off with the funds. It is worth asking to have a stand at the local county show-they will probably give you a site at cheap rates. Costs should be kept to less than 1 °' of the money you raise, so spend as little as you can on your organisation. Your worst expense will be on postage-the costs of printing should be relatively trivial (use the office roneo). Car stickers are worth- while and cheap-if you can persuade people to display them. The Charity Commissioners will expect you to have your accounts properly audited and these must be readily available. So keep good records; don't be like Samuel Johnson, who observed that he had two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers-one that he had lost all the names; the other that he had spent all the money. When it is all over, invite your subscribers to see what their money has bought, and be generous in your thanks. The reward for you will be in the immense satisfaction of seeing your project completed. It will have been very hard going and at times discouraging, but the glow of satisfaction is very warm. Good luck. Eventually this series will be collected into a book and hence no reprints will be available from the authors. A 60-year-old woman is most distressed by copious sweating of the head and neck on the slightest exertion. This started some 10 years ago and has worsened since. The only abnormality is a familial hypercholesterol- aemia. What might alleviate this condition ? Put iontophorese hyoscine butyl bromide on to a patch of skin that usually sweats before sweating takes place. Then exercise the patient. If the treated area remains dry her condition is likely to be improved by cervical sympathectomy. This could be preceded by local anaes- thetic stelate block. Fox, R H, et al, British MedicalJournal, 1973, 2, 693. Correction Letter from... New Zealand In Dr Richard Smith's article "Confusion about abortion" (10 June 1978, p 1534) the last sentence of all should have read as follows: "As I write, the circle of confusion is completed, as the medical superintendent in chief of the Auckland Hospital Board has announced that, after several weeks' painstaking deliberation, his opinion is that the new abortion law is in fact more liberal than the old." o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B r M e d J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.2 .6 1 4 4 .1 0 6 5 o n 1 4 O cto b e r 1 9 7 8 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/ 
work_37mdvqglqbdkrbuhl772ez2hne	----	Review: History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing, by Jeffrey Insko | Nineteenth-Century Literature | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 74, Issue 4 March 2020 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Book Review| March 31 2020 Review: History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing, by Jeffrey Insko Jeffrey Insko, History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing . New York :  Oxford University Press ,  2018 . Pp. xii + 255. $65. Cristin Ellis Cristin Ellis University Of Mississippi Cristin Ellis, Associate Professor of English at the University of Mississippi, is the author of Antebellum Posthuman: Race and Materiality in the Mid-Nineteenth Century (2018). She has published articles and chapters in Henry David Thoreau in Context (2017), Political Research Quarterly (2016), American Literature (2014), and The Concord Saunterer (2014). She is currently working on a book project on nineteenth-century eco-eroticism. Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Nineteenth-Century Literature (2020) 74 (4): 535–539. https://doi.org/10.1525/ncl.2020.74.4.535 Split-Screen Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data PDF LinkPDF Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Guest Access Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Cristin Ellis; Review: History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing, by Jeffrey Insko. Nineteenth-Century Literature 31 March 2020; 74 (4): 535–539. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/ncl.2020.74.4.535 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search This content is only available via PDF. © 2020 by The Regents of the University of California 2020 Article PDF first page preview Close Modal Send Email Recipient(s) will receive an email with a link to 'Review: History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing, by Jeffrey Insko' and will not need an account to access the content. *Your Name: *Your Email Address: CC: *Recipient 1: Recipient 2: Recipient 3: Recipient 4: Recipient 5: Subject: Review: History, Abolition, and the Ever-Present Now in Antebellum American Writing, by Jeffrey Insko Optional Message: (Optional message may have a maximum of 1000 characters.) Submit × Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Wasted Gifts: Robert Louis Stevenson in Oceania Bright Sunshine, Dark Shadows: Decadent Beauty and Victorian Views of Hawai‘i “The Meaner & More Usual &c.”: Everybody in Emma Contributors to this Issue Recent Books Received Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Contact Us Online ISSN 1067-8352 Print ISSN 0891-9356 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
work_3b6h3xzppzae3jrwwymt4ysvlu	----	Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Peter Fickert, MD1 Alexander R. Rosenkranz, MD2 1Division of Gastroenterology and Hepatology, Department of Internal Medicine, Medical University of Graz, Graz, Austria 2Division of Nephrology, Department of Internal Medicine, Medical University of Graz, Graz, Austria Semin Liver Dis 2020;40:91–100. Address for correspondence Peter Fickert, MD, Division of Gastroenterology and Hepatology, Department of Internal Medicine, Medical University of Graz, Graz, Austria (e-mail: peter.fickert@medunigraz.at). It is a reliable sign of uncertainty in medicine whenever we use a considerable number of names for what is most likely one single entity as is the case with cholemic nephropathy (CN), bilecast nephropathy,ictericnephrosis,andbileacidnephrop- athy.1 It is, however, a clinical truism that jaundiced patients are at significantly increased risk for renal failure and patients with jaundice and renal failure have a dismal prognosis, as shown in former studies and recently confirmed by the sound results of the landmark CANONIC study.2–5 Consequently, we have to ask ourselves whether the resurrection of CN we currently observe is (1) the end of the hibernation of an important disease, (2) the reinvention of the emperor’s new clothes, or (3) the slow emergence of a black box in clinical hepatology and nephrology that is now hidden in the mixed bag of acute kidney injury-hepatorenal syndrome (AKI-HRS)? “A rose of any other name would smell as sweet” (William Shakespeare): Cholemic nephropathy (CN) – What is in a name and does the name matter? The concept that bile constituents, and more specifically bile pigments, might harm the kidney dates back to 1899 when Quincke noted bile pigments staining the glomeruli in autopsies of patients with acute onset of jaundice6,7; our short historical note on that has appeared elsewhere.1 On its journey through medical literature, kidney injury in chole- static patients, animals, and corresponding experimental animal models was referred to with numerous names as mentioned earlier. Some terms found in literature, such as the currently widely used bile cast nephropathy, result from description of presumably characteristic morphological alterations or still unproven pathophysiological concepts.8 We think that “bile cast” is a misnomer, since bile can be found either in bile ducts, the gall bladder, or in the intestine but never in the kidney, and consequently also not in renal tubular casts. Nevertheless, this term suggests that we know that tubular casts observed in patients with CN primarily consist of bile or biliary constituents, most likely bilirubin, while there is no information on other important biliary constituents such as phospholipids and bile acids. Other names, such as bile acid nephropathy, suggest a clarified etiopathogenesis9–12; however, such an assumption would currently appear constricting and premature even in the light of some experimental evidence showing a central role Keywords ► acute kidney injury ► cholestasis ► hepatorenal syndrome ► advanced liver disease ► jaundice Abstract Acute kidney injury (AKI) is a dreaded complication in patients with liver disease and jaundice, since it is associated with significant morbidity and mortality. Cholemic nephropathy (CN) is thought to represent a widely underestimated important cause of AKI in advanced liver diseases with jaundice. The umbrella term CN describes impaired renal function along with histomorphological changes consisting of intratubular cast formation and tubular epithelial cell injury directed primarily toward distal nephron segments. In cholestasis, biliary constituents may be excreted via the kidney and bilirubin or bile acids may trigger tubular injury and cast formation, but as we begin to understand the underlying pathophysiologic mechanisms, we become increasingly aware of the urgent need for clearly defined diagnostic criteria. In the following, we aim to summarize current knowledge of clinical and morphological characteristics of CN, discuss potential pathomechanisms, and raise key questions to stimulate evolution of a research strategy for CN. published online October 18, 2019 Copyright © 2020 by Thieme Medical Publishers, Inc., 333 Seventh Avenue, New York, NY 10001, USA. Tel: +1(212) 760-0888. DOI https://doi.org/ 10.1055/s-0039-1698826. ISSN 0272-8087. 91 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. Published online: 2019-10-18 mailto:peter.fickert@medunigraz.at https://doi.org/10.1055/s-0039-1698826 https://doi.org/10.1055/s-0039-1698826 for bile acids in CN.13–15 In contrast, we find that the term CN is more neutral in that it indicates spill-over of biliary constituents such as bile acids and bilirubin into blood (i.e., cholemia) leading to renal dysfunction and histological changes in jaundiced patients. Based on findings in longitu- dinal studies in common bile duct ligated mice, CN starts with tubular epithelial injury in distal nephron segments, accompanied by intraluminal cast formation (the composi- tion of which remains to be determined in detail), leading to obstruction and dilatation of the tubules.13 We find that harmonizing the nomenclature by using CN might be most advantageous,1 since CN neither restricts to a specific histology (which may well not exist) nor to a specific and so far unproven pathogenetic mechanism (e.g., the highly controversial issue of whether tubular casts are the cause or consequence of CN, and the overall impact of bile acids in CN). “Cause and effect are two sides of one fact” (Ralph Waldo Emerson): What causes cholemic nephropathy (CN)? Although intuitive, as outlined above, the focus on biliary constituents such as bilirubin and bile acids as potentially causative for CN1,9 may conceptually be misleading as it neglects inflammatory processes that may also contribute to CN (►Fig. 1).16 However, what we know so far on the pathogenesis of CN still circles around these two molecules. Bilirubin Bilirubinuria means that in cholestasis, when less bile reaches the duodenum, conjugated bilirubin is alternatively excreted via the urine. The potential nephrotoxicity of unconjugated bilirubin was ascribed to its accumulation in mitochondria with subsequent inhibition of oxidative phosphorylation with decreased adenosine triphosphatase activity. This was associ- ated with mitochondrial defects and led to increased perme- ability of cell membranes, resulting in modified electrolyte content and cell volume.17–21 However, currently there is no direct proof for the concept that bilirubin may be causative for tubular epithelial injury, cast formation, or more generally speaking CN. Renal bilirubinaccumulation inCN may therefore just be an innocent bystander caused by accumulation through alternative renal excretion in cholestasis hampered through cast formation and tubular injury. Interestingly, there seems to beacertainthreshold forserumbilirubinlevels(> 15 mg/dL)in patients with CN. However, thisdoes not necessarily mean that high bilirubin levels are causative; rather, it might reflect the degree of cholestasis and liver disease. Indeed, bilirubin mayevenhaverenoprotectiveeffects,whichwereattributedto an increased expression of heme oxygenase-1 and increased activity of this enzyme in kidneys of common bile duct ligated rodents.22–27 In addition, bilirubin was shown to improve vascular resistance, tubular function, mitochondrial integrity, and inhibition of nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide phos- phatehydrogenoxidaseand nitricoxidesynthase2expression, which all together would be assumed to be beneficial for stressed kidneys.24–26 There is also increasing clinical evidence that elevated serum bilirubin levels may be renoprotective. In line with that assumption, late graft failure in kidney trans- plant patients was significantly lower in those with higher bilirubin.27 Moreover, a large-sized cohort study showed slower chronic kidney disease progression in individuals with only mild elevations of serum bilirubin levels beyond the upper limitofnormal (ULN).28 In essence, there is currently no strong experimental evidence supporting a causative role for bilirubin in the pathogenesis of CN. Nevertheless, increased urinary excretion of bilirubin may still be an attractive cause of tubular casts and virtually nothing is known about the phys- icochemistry of bilirubin within casts or the tubular lumen in CN. Consequently, several intriguing questions remain such as whether there is bilirubin crystal formation or cross-reaction with proteins or alternative molecules in CN. Bile Acids Under physiological conditions, glomerular-filtered bile acids are reuptaken in the distal part of Henle’s loop via active transport systems, apical sodium-dependent transporter and organic solute transporter α/β,29 similar to the quantitatively much more important reuptake of bile acids in the terminal ileum during their enterohepatic circulation that starts with the excretion of hepatic bile acids with bile into the duode- num.30 In cholestatic patients, less bile reaches the duodenum and bileacidsspillover fromtheliverand accumulate inserum. Alternative renal excretion of bile acids is currently seen as a mechanism of compensation under this condition.31–35 It is therefore tempting to speculate that this mechanism may exceed thekidneys’ capability foralternativebileacidexcretion at certain levels of cholestasis, resulting in CN.36 The most compelling evidence that bile acids may trigger CN derives from experimental animal models. In response to common bile duct ligation (CBDL), serum bile acids peak around day 3.13,31,36 Notably, this coincides with discrete alterations in proximal tubule architecture, which may easily be missed on hematoxylin and eosin stained kidney sections but may be more easily seen on periodic acid-Schiff (PAS)– stained sections.13,36 We showed epithelial injury in collecting ducts in CBDL mice at day 3 that will hardly be detected in patients.13 Besides tubular epithelial injury, basement mem- brane defects leading to leaky tubuli and obstruction of collecting ducts due to sloughed cells, tubular casts, and increased urinary neutrophil gelatinase-associated lipocalin levels were found.13–15 There is no evidence in this model that tubularcastscontainplentifulbilirubin;however,CBDLmouse liver, intriguingly, shows neither bilirubinostasis nor bile plugs and the species differences remain unexplained. Time course studies revealed that these early lesions were followed by interstitial nephritis and tubulointerstitial fibrosis later on. With long-term CBDL (up to 8 weeks), we were able to model the typical human histomorphological and functional alter- ations with CN.13 These findings suggest that full-blown CN in CBDL mice requires a long-standing and severe form of chole- stasis. Evidence that bile acid toxicity is key in this model is based on two main experimental findings and key experi- ments: (1) increasing the hydrophilicity of the bile acid pool Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz92 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. Fig. 1 (A) Potential triggers of acute kidney injury (AKI) in jaundiced patients. (B) Conceptual model for the pathogenesis of cholemic nephropathy (CN). (1) CN in common bile duct ligated mice starts at the level of collecting ducts with injury to aquaporin 2 (AQP2)-positive tubular epithelial cells and basement membrane disintegrity leading to leaky collecting ducts. (2) Tubules cell injury and cast formation increase pressure within the tubular part of the nephron with dilatation and tubulointerstitial nephritis. (3) Progressive tubular dilatation and interstitial nephritis trigger interstitial fibrosis (adapted from Fickert et al)13 (C) Postmortem kidney histology in a patient with CN. periodic acid-Schiff (PAS)- stained section showing granular (partially PAS-positive) intratubular casts with cellular debris in the tubulus lumina (as highlighted by arrows). Note also a mixed-cell inflammatory infiltrate in the tubulus lumina and the interstitium (magnification 10�). Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz 93 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. with the aid of hydrophilic and nontoxic norursodeoxycholic acid (norUDCA) significantly ameliorated the renal pheno- type14 and (2) CBDL in FXR�/� mice (with a much more hydrophilic bile acid pool in comparison to the wild-type controls) were protected against CN but showed similar renal fibrosis in response to unilateral ureteral ligation.13 Accord- ingly, bile acids might represent a key determinant of CN in CBDL mice. High concentrations of cholephiles such as bile acids in the renal tubules (probably in concert with alternative danger signals or inflammatory mediators) may be toxic to tubularepithelialcellsandconsequentlytrigger inflammation. Detailed mechanisms, however, still have to be determined and most importantly currently there is no human evidence that bile acids have a major role in CN. This is of critical importance and likely based on the numerous species differ- ences in bile acid biology between rodents and humans that have to be considered.37,38 There is a lively discussion on the issue whether tubular casts in CN may be the cause or rather the consequence of a decreased glomerular filtration rate (please see AJKD blog; #NephMadness 2019: Hepatorenal Region). Currently, known cast ingredients in CN include desquamated epithelial cells, proteinprecipitates,andbilirubin as evidenced by positive PAS and Hall’s stain. However, this has to be referred to as indirect evidence from unspecific staining methods, since a detailed biochemical analysis of casts in CN is still unavailable. The enigma also remains as to whether casts themselves are tubulotoxic or may trigger CN. Such a mechanism could hypothetically be analogous to cast nephropathies by myelo- ma or myoglobin release from crushed muscles.39–42 Interest- ingly, tubular casts in CN are predominantly found in aquaporin 2-positive collecting ducts in CBDL mice.13 This key finding was recently confirmed in kidney biopsies of patients with CN.43 Tubular cast formation at the level of collecting ducts originate not only from a higher urinary concentration due to water reabsorption in this part of the nephron but also from lower pH, both of which may promote cast formation.44,45 Consequently, the formation of tubular casts in CN could be due to the poor water solubility of cholephiles such as bilirubin and specific bile acids and/or limited proximal tubular reabsorption. Again, detailed bio- chemical analysis of tubular casts should provide important results and answers. Inflammation Cholestasis and jaundice are frequently seen in patients with decompensated cirrhosis. CN may in fact be more frequent as suggested so far in such patients, since several studies showed that there may actually be renal pathology comparable to CN, even when patients were clinically classified as having HRS. Thus, our current diagnostic criteria for HRS do not rule out CN.8,46 In recent years, evidence has accumulated indicating that decompensated cirrhosis is associated with persistent systemic inflammation, which may play an important part in the progression of cirrhosis and the development of compli- cations, including not only HRS but also CN.16,47–49 Patients with advanced cirrhosis show bacterial translocation from the gut to mesenteric lymph nodes, which is associated with increased levels of proinflammatory cytokines. In addition, pathogen-associated molecular patterns (PAMPs) deriving from bacterial translocation or bacterial infections and damage-associated molecular patterns (DAMPs, e.g., high- mobility group protein B1) may come into play. It is conse- quently attractive to speculate that such inflammatory cascades may also trigger CN, again analogues as to the pathogenesis of myoglobin nephropathy underscoring the importance of macrophages and activated platelets in this disease.50 Figuring out the pathogenesis of CN will be demanding indeed and will require a multidisciplinaryapproach including clinical and experimental nephrologists, hepatologists, and pathologists. “The proof of the pudding is in the eating” (English saying): What is the clinical evidence for cholemic nephropathy? The clinical literature on CN published since the early 20th century was more or less anecdotal, constituting mainly of case reports or case series and CN did not attract much attention either in the hepatologists’ or the nephrologists’ camps (►Table 1). This may be related to its overlap with different medical disciplines and their respective interests, and general problems with research funding for CN; even a lack of clinical appeal due to the generally poor prognosis of jaundiced patients with AKI may be a reason. The pathology series published by van Slambrouck et al including analysis of 44 patients (classified as 23 cirrhotic jaundice, 14 obstructive jaundice, 5 hepatic jaundice, 2 hemolytic jaundice) had a game changing effect, at least with the invention of the new name “bile cast nephropathy” and suddenly raised consider- able interest in the cause and consequences of kidney disease in jaundiced patients.8,46 In essence, the findings of this interesting study can be summarized in that the presence of tubular casts (positive for Hall’s stain indicating bilirubin content) correlated with higher serum bilirubin levels and showed a trend toward higher creatinine levels. However, as we discussed above, changing the name from CN to bile cast nephropathy may harbor significant disadvantages, but most importantly, this paper substantially stimulated nephrolo- gists’ and hepatologists’ imaginations and interest in this most likely underestimated and probably important disease and stimulated recent research and discussions.8,46 Subsequently, Bräsen et al investigated the frequency and clinical course of CNin their tertiarycarehospital over a period of more than 15 years (from 2000 to 2016) when a total of 79 patients with liver disease underwent kidney biopsy due to deteriorating renal function.43 It is important to note that this retrospective analysis was based on the presumed histomor- phological characteristics of CN, specifically the presence of Hall’s stain-positive bilirubin casts. Out of 79 patients, 45 presented with AKI and in this study the diagnosis of CN was exclusivelyobserved inpatients with AKI (8 of 45, 18%).All patients with histological findings compatible with CN were positive for bilirubin in the urine, whereas only 22% of non-CN Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz94 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. T a b le 1 C o m m o n cl in ic al fe at u re s in ca se re p o rt s/ ca se se ri e s o n ch o le m ic n ep h ro p at h y p u b lis h ed si n ce 2 0 0 0 (a d ap te d fr o m K ro n e s et al 1 ) A u th o r Y ea r N o . o f ca se s Et io lo g y o f ja u n d ic e P ea k to ta l b il ir u b in o r m e a n le ve ls � S EM D ia g n o si s o f C N H is to lo g ic a l fi n d in g s O u tc o m e B al et al 5 4 2 0 0 0 3 o u t o f 4 0 Su b ac u te h e p at ic fa ilu re 2 0 � 1 0 .2 m g /d L P o st m o rt e m b io p sy in 3 p at ie n ts M en in g ea l p ro lif er at io n an d th ic ke n in g , b as e m en t m em b ra n e th ic ke n in g , p re se n ce o f h ya lin e, g ra n u la r, an d b ile ca st s N /A K ie w e et al 5 5 2 0 0 4 1 H o d g ki n ’s ly m p h o m a w it h liv er in vo lv em en t an d ja u n d ic e 1 .7 m g /d L B io p sy M u lt ip le in tr at u b u la r g re e n is h b ile ca st s Im p ro ve m en t o f re n al fu n ct io n al o n g w it h re st o ra ti o n o f ch o le st as is an d liv er fu n ct io n B e tj es an d B aj em a5 6 2 0 0 6 2 O b st ru ct iv e ja u n d ic e in p at ie n t A , au to im m u n e h e p at it is in p at ie n t B 3 6 .2 m g /d L 3 3 .2 m g /d L B io p sy B ili ru b in p ig m en t in th e tu b u le s Tu b u la r ce ll n ec ro si s Im p ro ve m en t o f re n al fu n ct io n al o n g w it h d ec re as e o f b ili ru b in in p at ie n t A , p at ie n t B d ie d U sl u et al 5 7 2 0 1 0 2 0 O b st ru ct iv e ja u n d ic e (m ea n d u ra ti o n 1 5 .5 � 1 .4 d ) 1 0 .1 � 1 .0 m g /d L B io p sy D ila ta ti o n o f p e ri tu b u la r ve n u le s, ac u te tu b u la r n ec ro si s A b so lu te re co ve ry o f re n al fu n ct io n in al lp at ie n ts af te r b ili ar y d ra in ag e B re d ew o ld et al 5 8 2 0 1 1 1 P ro g re ss iv e ja u n d ic e d u e to m o n o n u cl e o si s in fe ct io sa 3 6 .1 m g /d L B io p sy A cu te tu b u la r n ec ro si s, ca st s co n si st in g o f b ili ru b in p ig m en t P at ie n t fu lly re co ve re d va n Sl am b ro u ck et al 8 2 0 1 3 2 4 O b st ru ct iv e ch o le st as is 2 4 .9 m g /d L A u to p sy B io p sy B ile ca st s w it h in vo lv em en t o f d is ta l n e p h ro n se g m en ts N /A R af at et al 5 9 2 0 1 3 1 Ja u n d ic e d u e to m al ig n an t ch o la n g io ca rc in o m a 3 0 m g /d L B io p sy B ile th ro m b i in d ila te d tu b u le s B ile g ra n u le s in cy to p la sm o f tu b u la r ep it h e lia l ce lls P at ie n t d ie d d u e to ch o la n g io ca rc in o m a Lu ci an o et al 1 2 2 0 1 4 1 C h o le st at ic ja u n d ic e re la te d to in g es ti o n o f an ab o lic st er o id s 4 7 .9 m g /d L U ri n e m ic ro sc o p y B io p sy P ig m en te d g ra n u la r ca st s an d h ea vi ly p ig m en te d re n al tu b u la r ep it h el ia lc el l ca st s u p o n u ri n e m ic ro sc o p y D ila te d tu b u le s co n ta in in g h ea vi ly p ig m en te d g ra n u la r ca st s u p o n h is to lo g y Se ru m cr ea ti n in e le ve ls re m ai n e d m ild ly el ev at e d va n d er W ijn g aa rt et al 6 0 2 0 1 4 1 O b st ru ct iv e ja u n d ic e w it h m u lt ip le g al ls to n es in th e co m m o n b ile d u ct 3 9 .6 m g /d L B io p sy B ile ca st s, re ac ti ve ch an g es o f tu b u la r ep it h e lia l ce lls Im p ro ve m en t o f ki d n ey fu n ct io n af te r b ili ar y d ra in ag e an d h em o d ia ly si s fo r 5 w k Ja in et al 6 1 2 0 1 5 1 Ja u n d ic e fo llo w in g w ed g e re se ct io n o f liv e r 4 2 .5 m g /d L U ri n e m ic ro sc o p y B io p sy B ile ca st s an d le u ci n e cr ys ta ls u p o n u ri n e m ic ro sc o p y In tr at u b u la r b ile ca st s u p o n ki d n ey b io p sy N /A Se q u e ir a an d G u 6 2 2 0 1 5 1 A lc o h o lic st e at o h ep at it is 2 3 .1 m g /d L B io p sy A cu te tu b u la r in ju ry , b ile ca st s H em o d ia ly si s T ab at ab ae e et al 6 3 2 0 1 5 2 C h o le st at ic ja u n d ic e re la te d to in g es ti o n o f an ab o lic st er o id s 5 0 m g /d L B io p sy A cu te tu b u la r ep it h el ia l ce ll d am ag e, b ile ca st d ep o si ti o n Im p ro ve m en t o f se ru m cr ea ti n in e al o n g w it h d ec re as e o f b ili ru b in P at el et al 6 4 2 0 1 6 1 D ru g -in d u ce d liv er in ju ry se co n d ar y to an ti b io ti c u se 1 9 .3 m g /d L B io p sy P ig m en te d b ili ru b in ca st s an d d ro p le ts in p ro xi m al an d d is ta lt u b u le s, tu b u la r at ro p h y, an d in te rs ti ti al fi b ro si s C o m b in ed liv er an d ki d n ey tr an sp la n t (C on ti n u ed ) Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz 95 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. T a b le 1 (C on ti n u ed ) A u th o r Y ea r N o . o f ca se s Et io lo g y o f ja u n d ic e P ea k to ta l b il ir u b in o r m e a n le ve ls � S EM D ia g n o si s o f C N H is to lo g ic a l fi n d in g s O u tc o m e Se n s et al 6 5 2 0 1 6 1 Ep is o d e o f ch o le st as is in a p at ie n t w it h M at u ri ty O n se t D ia b et es o f th e Yo u th (M O D Y ) ty p e 5 2 0 .1 m g /d L B io p sy B ile ca st s, m ar ke d tu b u la r n ec ro si s Im p ro ve m en t o f se ru m cr ea ti n in e al o n g w it h d ec re as e o f b ili ru b in W er n er et al 6 6 2 0 1 6 1 P ai n le ss ja u n d ic e d u e to ch o la n g io ce llu la r ca rc in o m a N /A B io p sy D ila te d tu b u le s, b ile ca st s R e so lu ti o n o f re n al fu n ct io n af te r re st o ra ti o n o f ch o le st as is A lk h u n ai zi et al 6 7 2 0 1 6 1 C h o le st at ic ja u n d ic e re la te d to in g es ti o n o f an ab o lic st er o id s 4 4 m g /d L B io p sy B ile ca st s w it h in d is ta l tu b u la r lu m in a, fi la m en to u s b ile in cl u si o n s w it h in tu b u la r ce lls , si g n s o f ac u te tu b u la r in ju ry Im p ro ve m en t o f se ru m cr ea ti n in e al o n g w it h d ec re as e o f b ili ru b in A ln as ra lla h et al 6 8 2 0 1 6 1 Fl u cl o xa ci lli n -in d u ce d liv e r d ys fu n ct io n 5 1 .5 m g /d L B io p sy D ila te d tu b u le s, b ile ca st s, tu b u la r ep it h e lia l in ju ry D ec lin e o f se ru m cr ea ti n in e af te r im p ro ve m en t o f ja u n d ic e M o h ap at ra et al 6 9 2 0 1 6 2 0 Se ve re fa lc ip ar u m m al ar ia co m p lic at ed w it h ja u n d ic e 2 6 .5 � 4 .1 m g /d L U ri n e m ic ro sc o p y B io p sy B ile -s ta in ed ca st s u p o n u ri n e m ic ro sc o p y N u m er o u s tu b u la r ca st s, ac u te tu b u la r N e cr o si s b u t m ai n ta in ed g lo m er u la r ar ch it e ct u re u p o n ki d n ey h is to lo g y R e co ve ry ti m e o f re n al d ys fu n c- ti o n 1 5 .1 � 6 .5 d Le cl e rc et al 1 0 2 0 1 6 1 D ru g -in d u ce d h ep at ic ja u n d ic e 3 0 .9 m g /d L B io p sy B ro w n ca st s cl o g g in g th e tu b u la r lu m en , b ro w n d ep o si ts in th e cy to p la sm o f tu b u la r ep it h el ia l ce lls Im p ro ve m en t o f ki d n ey fu n ct io n af te r n o rm al iz at io n o f b ili ru b in an d h e m o d ia ly si s A n io rt et al 7 0 2 0 1 7 1 O b st ru ct iv e ch o le st as is ca u se d b y st o n es in th e co m m o n b ile d u ct 3 2 .6 m g /d L B io p sy In tr al u m in al g re e n ca st s, tu b u la r in ju ry C o m p le te re co ve ry fo llo w in g re m o va l o f th e b ile d u ct o b st ru ct io n N ay ak et al 4 6 2 0 1 7 5 7 4 2 A C LF , 2 5 d ec o m p en sa te d ci rr h o si s M ed ia n (r an g e) 2 7 .0 m g /d L (1 .5 – 7 2 .8 ) P o st m o rt e m b io p sy H al l’ s st ai n -p o si ti ve ca st s in 5 7 fr o m 1 2 7 au to p sy ki d n ey sp ec im en s. In te rs ti ti al ed em a 1 1 /5 7 , in te rs ti ti al fi b ro si s 6 /5 7 , tu b u la r at ro p h y 1 /5 7 P o st m o rt e m b io p sy st u d y B rä se n et al 4 3 2 0 1 9 8 3 vi ra l h e p at it is , 1 A IH , 4 o th e rs 4 5 .5 � 1 7 .8 m g /d L B io p sy H al l’ s st ai n -p o si ti ve tu b u la r ca st s, p ig m en t in cl u si o n s in tu b u la r ep it h e lia l ce lls 5 /8 re q u ir ed re n al re p la ce m e n t th e ra p y A b b re vi at io n s: A C LF , ac u te o n ch ro n ic liv er fa ilu re ; A IH , au to im m u n e h e p at it is ; C N , ch o le m ic n ep h ro p at h y; SE M , st an d ar d er ro r o f th e m e an . Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz96 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. patients had detectable urinary bilirubin. An additional uni- variate logistic regression analysis identified bilirubin > 5 times the ULN and alkaline phosphatase > 3 times the ULN as independent risk factors. Importantly, this study calls the specificity of histological findings in CN into question. To further characterize the histomorphology of CN and to deter- mine the specificity of these findings, the authors developed a questionnaire and included some CN cases in a group of 20 acute tubular injury cases (7 CN, 7 cases with liver disease and elevated bilirubin but no CN, and 6 cases with pigment deposits for different reasons such as lipofuscin, iron, or porphyria). The authors invited six highly experienced neph- ropathologists from three different pathology departments to participate and answer the questionnaire. Neither the evalua- tion ofall six raters nora subgroup analysis based on theirlevel of experience (nephropathologists with > 10 vs. > 15 years of experience) identified discriminating histopathological features among the chosen entities indicating that the histo- pathological findings in CN may be less specific than initially suggested. Moreover, Hall’s stain is known to have a low sensitivity.8 Of note, this important study confirmed that kidney biopsy carried a significant risk of bleeding (6 of 79 patients, 8%; 4 underwent surgery or vascular coiling). There- fore, kidney biopsy/histology may not represent the ideal diagnostic test and the findings of the Bräsen et al study reinforce the need for noninvasive and alternative diagnostic methods. Both studies raise the pivotal question about the esti- mated number of unreported cases of CN within the group of patients currently referred to as AKI-HRS, since they may also fulfill the revised modern criteria for this syn- drome.51,52 It is attractive to hypothesize that AKI-HRS patients with insufficient response to terlipressin or nor- adrenalin may be most likely to have CN. Diagnostic Challenges in Cholemic Nephropathy A consensus on diagnosticcriteria for CN issorely missed. From the clinicians’ point of view, the differential diagnosis of CN arisesincaseswith(prolonged) deepjaundiceand concomitant impairment of renal function which may not be primarily related to or explained by clinical significant portal hyperten- sion (i.e., the situation with only minimal or lack of ascites). Currently, the diagnosis of CN is solely based upon kidney histology with Hall’s stain-positive bilirubin casts as the diag- nostic corner stone, which are frequently considered as disease specific. The tubular casts in CN may significantly differ in color (e.g., greenish yellow, light to dark red), composition (variable degree of cellular debris), and localization (primarily in the distal nephron segments, also in the proximal segments in severe cases). Pathologists use the Hall’s stain (i.e., using Fouchet’s reagent which converts bilirubin to green biliverdin) to confirm bilirubin in the casts and Perls’ Prussian blue stain to rule out ferric iron deposits. It again has to be mentioned that Hall’s histochemical stain is insensitive. In addition, kidney biopsy in patients with advanced liver disease may involve a significant risk of bleeding, as also observed in the Bräsen et al study.43 Consequently, the benefit–risk ratio for kidney biopsy in such cases is complicated, especially in the light of the current lack of therapeutic consequences. Together with the current evidence that kidney histology in CN might not be as specific as has been suggested,43 this also raises the critical question of whether CN is indeed a specific entity in each individual case. Alternatively, CN may also represent a part of the spectrum of AKI in jaundiced patients also including those with advanced chronic liver disease, acute on chronic liver failure (ACLF), or inflammatory-driven AKI. At least what is known from published autopsy studies argues for such an assumption, since there are numerous patients reported show- ing morphological characteristics of CN in kidney histology but were clinically classified as AKI-HRS.8,46 A postmortem kidney biopsy study by Nayak et al included 127 renal biopsies for analysis obtained from 84 patients with decompensated cir- rhosis and 43 patients with ACLF.46 Fifty-seven of the total 127 (45%) biopsies showed CN with Hall’s stain-positive and Perls’ stain-negative tubular casts. Patients with CN had significantly higher levels of serum total bilirubin, total leukocyte count, and Model of End-stage Liver Disease score than those without CN. The authors concluded that CN was found in 72% of patients with ACLF and 27% patients with decompensated cirrhosis hospitalized with HRS-AKI. This indicates that a so far unde- fined percentage of patients fulfilling current AKI-HRS criteria will show kidney histology compatible with the findings in CN. Such a concept is further supported by the finding in Bräsen et al’s study that patients with a unalterableliver problem did not recover from CN in contrast to those with a treatable liver disease (e.g., chronic hepatitis B).43 It is attractive to speculate that the percentage of CN in terlipressin nonrepsonder AKI- HRS patients will be high. However, all these intriguing ques- tions have to be resolved in future prospective clinical trials, since postmortemanalysis and retrospective analysis ofkidney biopsies in AKI-HRS patients have several flaws and weak- nesses ranging from the problem of potential postmortem artifacts to the important issue of selection bias. Still, the studies discussed above are relevant, since they challenge our current concepts of definition and classification of AKI- HRS on one hand and those of CN on the other and will stimulate further essential research in this area. The fact that kidney biopsy is risky especially in AKI patients with advanced liver disease raises the critical issue of alternative and noninvasive diagnostic methods. One rather simple method could be urine cytospin and cellblock analysis,53 but this still has to be evaluated in prospective trials. In the Nayak et al study, there was no difference in the (routine) urinary analysis between patients with and with- out CN; however, they did not use adequate protocols to detect casts (e.g., centrifugation of 10 mL of urine at 2,000 revolutions per minute for 20 minutes) and the authors critically discuss this interesting issue in detail.46 Future prospective studies should therefore evaluate such protocols for potential noninvasive detection of Fouchet’s or Hall’s stain-positive casts in CN patients. Moreover, urinary biomarkers such as NGAL, interleukin-18, kidney injury molecule-1, and liver-type fatty acid binding protein should be studied in CN as discussed in detail earlier.1 Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz 97 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. Management of Patients with Cholemic Nephropathy Currently, there is no specific treatment or management recommendation for CN available. The published evidence on that issue still has to be referred to as anecdotal and publication bias is additionally very likely (►Table 1). Since jaundiced patients are known to be at significantly increased risk for AKI, potentially nephrotoxic agents should be omitted to minimize tubular stress and volumestatus of patients has to be checked and corrected carefully. In some patients, however, complete recovery of renal function after successful biliary drainage was observed, which is again a strong argument for cholephiles as causing factors of CN. There is currently no single published prospective clinical trial on the therapeutic management of CN, which may originate in the ambiguity of the diagnostic criteria and standards of CN, the discussed differential diagnostic problems (especially clear discrimina- tion from AKI-HRS), and the mixed patients population. Animal experiments suggest that bile acids such as norUDCA may represent attractive candidates for medical treatment.14 Task List for Cholemic Nephropathy • We need diagnostic criteria and standards for CN. • One of the most critical issues in the area is the widely unknown clinical impact of CN in patients with and without concomitant liver disease and the undefined but likely overlap with AKI-HRS. For that aim, we urgently need carefully designed prospective large cohort studies, which should be performed by powerful study groups. • Careful retrospective histological analysis of explanted kidneys from patients with refractory AKI-HRS undergo- ing combined liver and kidney transplantation should be most informative. • Clinicalstudiesshouldespeciallyaimontheidentificationof triggers,risk factors,andnoninvasivediagnostictestsforCN. • Animal models with cholestatic liver diseases should be screened for CN, since CBDL in rodents comprises several limitations.1 • Mechanisms of renal tubular cell injury, impact of bile acid signaling molecules such as FXR and TGR5 on renal bile acid transport, and mediators of inflammation in CN have to be determined. • Since CN may have numerous parallels to myoglobin nephropathy where platelets were just recently shown to play a major role,50 the influence of platelets should be clarified. • Impact of activation of inflammatory cells, of DAMPs or PAMPs,as well as ofdifferentcytokines and chemokines has to be determined and such studies should specifically focus on the identification of novel potential therapeutic targets. Main Concepts and Learning Points • The term cholemic nephropathy (CN) refers to renal dysfunction with tubular epithelial injury primarily in distal nephron segments accompanied by intraluminal cast formation in patients with deep jaundice. • The mechanisms of tubular cell injury remain elusive and whether tubular casts in CN are cause or consequence of the disease is unclear; the role of bilirubin is controversial, but the role of bile acids is likely pivotal. • Lack of clear diagnostic criteria and standards as well as the need for invasive and potentially risky kidney biopsy currently hinders accurate but exact diagnosis and con- sequently a clear picture of the clinical impact of CN in the absence of prospective clinical trials. • CN frequently resolves if cholestasis can be resolved, but there is no specific therapy to achieve this. • Research in CN should focus on its pathophysiology, identification of noninvasive diagnostic tests, determina- tion of its prognosis and clinical importance, and on the development of specific treatment strategies. Conflict of Interest P.F. reports grants from Dr. Falk Pharma GmbH, other from Medical University of Graz, grants from Austrian Science Foundation, during the conduct of the study; grants from Dr. Falk Pharma GmbH, other from Medical University of Graz, outside the submitted work. P.F. has a patent WO2006119803 licensed to Medical University of Graz, and a patent WO20099013334 licensed to Medical Univer- sity of Graz. References 1 Krones E, Pollheimer MJ, Rosenkranz AR, Fickert P. Cholemic nephropathy - historical notes and novel perspectives. Biochim Biophys Acta Mol Basis Dis 2018;1864(4 Pt B): 1356–1366 2 Dawson JL. Acute post-operative renal failure in obstructive jaundice. Ann R Coll Surg Engl 1968;42(03):163–181 3 Armstrong CP, Dixon JM, Taylor TV, Davies GC. Surgical experience of deeply jaundiced patients with bile duct obstruction. Br J Surg 1984;71(03):234–238 4 Ariza X, Graupera I, Coll M, et al; CANONIC Investigators, EASL CLIF Consortium. 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Semin Liver Dis 2018;38(03):230–241 49 Arroyo V. Microalbuminuria, systemic inflammation, and multi- organ dysfunction in decompensated cirrhosis: evidence for a nonfunctional mechanism of hepatorenal syndrome. Hepatol Int 2017;11(03):242–244 50 Okubo K, Kurosawa M, Kamiya M, et al. Macrophage extracellular trap formation promoted by platelet activation is a key mediator of rhabdomyolysis-induced acute kidney injury. Nat Med 2018;24 (02):232–238 51 Wong F. Acute kidney injury in liver cirrhosis: new definition and application. Clin Mol Hepatol 2016;22(04):415–422 52 Ginès P, Solà E, Angeli P, Wong F, Nadim MK, Kamath PS. Hep- atorenal syndrome. Nat Rev Dis Primers 2018;4(01):23 53 Qamar I, Rehman S, Mehdi G, Maheshwari V, Ansari HA, Chauhan S. Utility of cytospin and cell block technology in evaluation of body fluids and urine samples: a comparative study. J Cytol 2018; 35(02):79–82 54 Bal C, Longkumer T, Patel C, Gupta SD, Acharya SK. Renal function and structure in subacute hepatic failure. J Gastroenterol Hepatol 2000;15(11):1318–1324 55 Kiewe P, Korfel A, Loddenkemper C, et al. Unusual sites of Hodgkin’s lymphoma: CASE 3. Cholemic nephrosis in Hodgkin’s lymphoma with liver involvement. J Clin Oncol 2004;22(20):4230–4231 56 Betjes MG, Bajema I. The pathology of jaundice-related renal insufficiency: cholemic nephrosis revisited. J Nephrol 2006;19 (02):229–233 Seminars in Liver Disease Vol. 40 No. 1/2020 Cholemic Nephropathy Reloaded Fickert, Rosenkranz 99 D o w n lo a d e d b y: C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity . C o p yr ig h te d m a te ri a l. 57 Uslu A, Taşli FA, Nart A, et al. Human kidney histopathology in acute obstructive jaundice: a prospective study. Eur J Gastro- enterol Hepatol 2010;22(12):1458–1465 58 Bredewold OW, de Fijter JW, Rabelink T. A case of mononucleosis infectiosa presenting with cholemic nephrosis. NDT Plus 2011;4 (03):170–172 59 Rafat C, Burbach M, Brochériou I, et al. 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Efficacy of extracorpo- real albumin dialysis for acute kidney injury due to cholestatic jaundice nephrotoxicity. BMJ Case Rep 2016;2016:2016 66 Werner CR, Wagner V, Sipos B, et al. Acute kidney injury in liver failure [in German]. Dtsch Med Wochenschr 2016;141(21):1559 67 Alkhunaizi AM, ElTigani MA, Rabah RS, Nasr SH. Acute bile nephropathy secondary to anabolic steroids. Clin Nephrol 2016; 85(02):121–126 68 Alnasrallah B, Collins JF, Zwi LJ. Bile nephropathy in flucloxacillin- induced cholestatic liver dysfunction. Case Rep Nephrol 2016; 2016:4162674 69 Mohapatra MK, Behera AK, Karua PC, et al. Urinary bile casts in bile cast nephropathy secondary to severe falciparum malaria. Clin Kidney J 2016;9(04):644–648 70 Aniort J, Poyet A, Kemeny JL, Philipponnet C, Heng AE. Bile cast nephropathy caused by obstructive cholestasis. 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work_3fxxk6efing3rduaths2jzyesa	----	Volume 66 Number 8 August 2014 James J. Robinson Executive Director JO “My seminar- attendance mantra is to come away with three credible ideas that I will try to act upon.” “The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” — Ralph Waldo Emerson Over the last few days, I’ve been thinking Emersonian thoughts. For those unacquainted, Emerson is a giant of American literature—a poet and essayist who helped frame the transcendental movement in the mid-1800s. Others can explain transcendentalism much human nature and celebrating the inspirational beauty of nature itself. While it has been decades since I last read Emerson, his ethos occurred to me while attending a professional development seminar on the shore of Lake Louise in Canada’s Banff National Park. The venue, with its partially ice-covered lake, snow-covered craggy mountains, and ancient glaciers was the art of nature at its most inspirational. I kid you not in saying that it is one of the most transcendent places that I have ever visited. While the view was an eyeful, my mind’s eye was equally opened by an impressive array of speakers assembled by the American Society of Association Executives for the forum, 360 View on Leadership. The goal: Help us CEO-types become better leaders. I took many pages of notes, but my seminar-attendance mantra is to come away with three credible ideas that I will try to act upon. What was my trio from this event? They were obvious: Obvious populations matter. Demographer Kenneth Gronback looks at population trends to gain insight that can be used in marketing and social theory. He put it generically that a bigger pool of people means a bigger pool of potential association members. For example, we in the U.S. association community have a lot of members from the gigantic “Baby Boomer” generation (1945–1964) based on the sheer number of people born during this period. Conversely, we see a clear decline in the number of “Generation X” (1965–1984) members as there were simply fewer people born during this period. “Generation Y” (1985– 2004), however, is a generation of record numbers—even bigger than the Boomers. As these have the right value proposition for these young people who breathe social media, treasure diversity, and are passionate about sustainability. That’s intriguing. Obvious ideas come from unobvious places. Professor Alan Gregerman of Georgetown University recounted how we are most likely to collaborate with people and groups that we know since people generally have an aversion to interacting with people who are different. We are most likely to innovate, however, by reaching beyond our comfortable communities. reshaping our thinking in new and creative ways. This does not apply to just businesses and networks of colleagues, but to cultures and countries as well. That’s provocative. Obviousness is in the eye of the beholder. Creative Revolution Arms Dealer Todd Henry advised attendees to avoid fossilizing around practices that may have allowed us to reach one plateau, but may be hindering us from reaching the next one. As a tactic to “continually assault the beachhead of apathy,” he encouraged the attendees to continue to have curiosity and be urgent in our learning. A great approach to use with colleagues, members, clients, friends, and family members is to ask a single question: “What is something that I am not seeing, but that is obvious to you?” A person will be well-equipped for growth if he or she can get (and is willing to listen to) the answer to that question. That’s an open invitation for you to give me guidance. Was there more good advice? Plenty. Like the Canadian Rockies outside the window, there was much to scale for the motivated hiker. And like the Rockies, that’s a journey best taken one step at a time. A transcendental view of Lake Louise in June. JOM, Vol. 66, No. 8, 2014 DOI: 10.1007/s11837-014-1076-y Ó 2014 The Minerals, Metals & Materials Society 1349 In the final analysis 
work_3ia4zvshsbhf7nozjkxgdvgwti	----	THE HUMANISTIC PSYCHOLOGIST, 33(3), 175–186 Copyright © 2005, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc. The Birth of Tragedy and The Trauma of Birth Will L. Wadlington Center for Counseling and Psychological Services Penn State University This article examines the early writings of Friedrich Nietzsche and Otto Rank in terms of Harold Bloom’s notion of an “anxiety of influence.” Like the “strong poets” in Bloom’s theory, each of these innovators needed to resolve his ambivalence toward precursors to create new theories and approaches. Nietzsche and Rank are seen as “pre- mature births,” thinkers before their time; both went beyond their own early works and attempted self-creation. Through an emphasis on affirmation of life despite death’s in- evitability, both were able to free themselves creatively. Rank drew from Nietzsche’s philosophy and his example in developing an early existential psychotherapy. Otto Rank’s gift to Sigmund Freud on his 70th birthday was an elegant, white, leather-bound edition of the complete works of Friedrich Nietzsche. As both a gift of gratitude and a “defiant reminder of Freud’s unacknowledged debt” to Nietzsche (Rudnytsky, 1987, p. 199), Rank’s gesture betrays an ambivalence toward precur- sors that accompanies artistic innovation and creative thought; Harold Bloom (1973) called it an “anxiety of influence.” Rank’s ambivalence toward Freud, in re- minding Freud of his own ambivalence toward Nietzsche, is an interesting parallel to Nietzsche’s ambivalence toward Schopenhauer1 and his subsequent declaration of independence from him in The Birth of Tragedy (1872/1967). Requests for reprints should be sent to Will L. Wadlington, Center for Counseling and Psychologi- cal Services, 221 Ritenour Health Center, Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA 16802. E-mail: WLW3@sa.psu.edu 1Nietzsche had other ambivalances, as did Freud and Rank: In addition to Nietzsche’s uneasy relation- ship to Schopenhauer, there is his relationship to Wagner, and for that matter, to Socrates. In addition to Freud’s ambivalence toward Nietzsche, there is Freud’s ambivalence toward Breuer, Fleiss, and several of his followers within the circle of founders of psychoanalysis. And, of course, along with Rank’s ambiva- lence toward Freud, there is Rank’s ambivalence toward Nietzsche and Schopenhauer. The focus of this article, however, is on Nietzsche’s influence on Freud and Nietzsche’s and Freud’s influence on Rank. mailto:WLW3@sa.psu.edu mailto:WLW3@sa.psu.edu mailto:WLW3@sa.psu.edu 176 WADLINGTON The impact on the psyche of the discovery that every new world of thought is al- ready inhabited can be profound; it can have a stifling effect on the developing sense of self. Alternatively, it can be the source of a necessary and healthy perspective on the limits even of creativity. Everything depends on the reaction to this realization. As Nietzsche exemplifies, and as Rank understood, it is necessary for the artist (meaning every creative person) to overcome past influences—including one’s own past. As Rank noted, a still further risk to the original artist is that his or her own work may become an inhibiting, mocking double, subverting the full expres- sion of the self (cf. Wadlington, 2001). The challenge to the artist who would strive for originality is immense. Throughout the history of modern art, at least until postmodernism with its em- phasis on appropriation and pastiche, originality has been seen as the sine qua non of creativity. To have one’s thought or work regarded as derivative of another’s is to be “only” an imitator or a slave to artistic tradition or style. Despite the fact that the creative process often involves experimentation with new combinations of existing elements, at its extreme the conceit of the creative person is that every creation must be a creatio ex nihilo, a new work that arrives in the world, establishes a new style, and changes the nature of our perception. Each of the individuals to be dis- cussed here—Nietzsche, Freud, and Rank—was an innovator who faced the daunt- ing task of creating a radically new approach to life. Nietzsche’s philosophy, Freud’s psychoanalysis, and Rank’s will therapy emerged from the deep self-re- flection and self-analysis of these three strong personalities and each is the product of a difficult struggle to go beyond powerful precursors, whose genius was not eas- ily overlooked. THE ANXIETY OF INFLUENCE Genius is a Romantic notion that still resonates for us; it captures the sense that cer- tain individuals rise above the rest of us by virtue of, especially, imaginative talent. Because their abilities seem beyond our comprehension, we make extreme attribu- tions to them; thus geniuses appear to have arrived on the scene spontaneously and perhaps even supernaturally. Geniuses easily become objects of our admiration and awe, and that awe, according to Bloom (1973), frequently feeds the inhibition and anxiety experienced by other, younger, imaginative artists, preventing further creative action. Great works of the past, in any field of creative endeavor, send chills up our spines. In The Anxiety of Influence, Bloom captured that feeling in an epigram, a quotation from another of Nietzsche’s precursors and influences, Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said, “In every work of genius we recognize our own re- jected thoughts; they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty” (p. 48). Be- 177 THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY cause we see ourselves in others we cannot deny having intellectual parentage, and that can be a stifling realization. Bloom (1973) challenges the commonplace assumption that the history of art and literature (or any creative endeavor) has a benign influence on the artist. To the contrary, Bloom’s idea is that the precursor, the “strong poet”(p. 5) or creative ge- nius who has gone before, is an inhibiting influence who must be overcome for an artist to speak with his or her own voice. This overcoming often involves radical re- vision of the precursor’s work, made possible by the new artist’s misappropriation or misreading of the previous work. The anxiety felt by the creative artist arises from the realization that he is “not the originator of his own works; that he has, so to speak, come too late onto the scene. Because every son, or daughter, for that matter, must inevitably arrive after the parent, a tragedy built into the creative pro- cess is, in Nietzsche’s words, the tragedy of ‘belatedness’” (Bloom, 1975, p. 83). Bloom’s seemingly original contribution to literary theory is not without its own precursors. Bloom (1973) considers Nietzsche, a “prophet of the antithetical,” and Freud, an investigator of ambivalence, as “prime influences” on his theory (p. 8). Bloom, however, thinks Nietzsche and Freud “underestimated poets and po- etry” (p. 8) but that Rank showed “a greater awareness of the artist’s fight against art” (p. 9). Rank had titled one of the chapters of Art and Artist (1932/1968) “The Artist’s Fight with Art.” In it he described what he called the “double attitude of the personal artist to the prevailing art-ideology, which, on the one hand, he uses for the justification of his individual creativity, but, on the other, opposes with all the vigour of his personality” (p. 365). If Rank was an influence on Bloom, he was one who apparently was not misread. MISREADING AND MISUSE The kind of misreading to which Bloom (1973) refers, functions “so as to clear imaginative space” (p.5) for new creation. Misreading is the way an artist who has been frozen in awe of his or her precursors thaws and begins to move independ- ently. Misreading, in this sense, is fundamentally different from disrespect that drives distortion and spiteful misuse of an earlier author’s work. Nietzsche is a case in point. Historically his ideas have been maliciously misused; as a consequence he has a reputation as an enigmatic figure and has been called, at times, a madman, a Nazi, and The Antichrist. But despite the ambivalence it engenders, and the ad hominem attack it elicits, and because his work has also been loved and revered by some, Nietzsche’s thought has survived, and is recurrently relevant to psycholo- gists interested in an existential approach. Rank, like Nietzsche, has been widely misunderstood. Kainer and Kainer (1984) applied Bloom’s notion to the misapprehension or distortion of his work by 178 WADLINGTON later thinkers such as Erich Fromm. Fromm, they contend, mistakenly believed that Rank had unintentionally developed views of “truth, external reality, and de- pendency … [that] … bore a close link with fascist philosophy” (p. 173). What Fromm achieved, according to Kainer and Kainer, was to attribute to Rank some of the pessimism and determinism Rank previously challenged in Freud, as well as the “Schopenhaurian view of will as evil that Rank had detached himself from” (p. 174). In another attempt to reread Rank, Kainer and Gourevitch (1983) challenged the reductive psychobiographical method of Stolorow and Atwood (1976), who saw Rank’s separation from Freud in pathological terms as narcissistic and archai- cally grandiose. There is no question there is a certain conceit in the presumption to originality but Kainer and Gourevich successfully distinguished between a pathologizing view of this conceit as megalomaniacal and a view that it demon- strates healthy self-creation. They understood Rank’s idea of creative will in posi- tive terms, not just as a deviation and rebellion against Freud, but as a striving to- ward individuation. DEATH AND IMMORTALITY As a young man interested in artists and their creations, Rank immersed himself in Nietzsche’s work. What Rank was able to appropriate from Nietzsche and make his own, was a “profound understanding of the ‘tragedy of the creative man’” (Kainer & Gourevitch, 1983, p. 539), a grasp of the difficulty of achieving origi- nality, and an apprehension of the inevitability that a truly original work is not likely to be understood in the creator’s lifetime. The “artist-type” in Rank owes much to Nietzsche’s “overman” (cf. Wadlington, 2001); both share this tragic awareness of the difficulty of overcoming the past, including one’s own past. As both Nietzsche and Rank understood, the past often appears as “fate,” seeming to obviate the feeling of independent will. But both thought beyond the belief in the past as fate. Nietzsche spoke of becoming one’s own fate and Rank of creative will- ing even in the face of death and limitation. What Nietzsche, and Rank, who appro- priated from him, possessed was an existential appreciation for the necessity of liv- ing fully in spite of death and in spite of the past as a predetermining cause and fate. “Every poet,” according to Bloom (1973), “begins … by rebelling more strongly against the consciousness of death’s necessity than all other men and women do” (p. 10). There are two crucial tasks for creative types: forgetting dead poets and not becoming a forgotten dead poet. The past impinges on the present. The reminder that our thoughts are not origi- nal, that we have ancestors, teaches us that all things die and that only through ar- tistic rebirth can death be overcome. Both Nietzsche and Rank rejected a pessimis- tic view and asserted that original art and thought must arise out of an affirming, a saying “yes” to life, and that the achievement of immortality, through the creation 179 THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY of lasting works, is the only recourse for the creative individual, in the face of the overwhelming reality of death. PREMATURITY AND BELATEDNESS A philosopher of dysynchrony and untimeliness (cf. Kaufmann, 1974b, p. 10), Nietzsche attempted to avoid precursors by creating himself. Rank, emulating Nietzsche, likewise attempted to give birth to himself—to will himself into exis- tence. However, as Kainer and Kainer (1984) note, the task is greater than merely overcoming precursors. Once a creative individual in any field has successfully separated from the dominant influences of the past, he or she faces the “necessity of being split off … from the mainstream of thought” (p. 176), of being alone, alienated, and potentially misunderstood. In addition to the “belatedness” Bloom considers, we must also speak of “prematurity.” Nietzsche (1882/1974), in fact, ad- dresses his readers, along with himself, as “premature births” (p. 346). His famous madman, announcing the death of God, realized that he had “come too early” (p.182). Like Nietzsche, Rank was ahead of his time. The psychoanalytic world of the early 20th century was not ready for his early therapeutic innovations and his con- ception of the creative will to immortality. The prematurity of Rank’s thought has historically led to its neglect, a fact that comes to light occasionally, in brief flashes, when one glimpses Rankian ideas that have been assimilated into the mainstream of psychology. It may be possible, however, to recognize some of the important origins of what we now call existential psychology in the early inde- pendent works of these two authors. THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY The Birth of Tragedy was Friedrich Nietzsche’s first book. Published in 1872, when he was 27, this book was and remains, in the words of translator Walter Kaufman, “one of the most suggestive and influential studies of tragedy ever writ- ten” (in Nietzsche, 1872/1967, p. 3). Although written by the young Nietzsche, a precocious philology professor, it gives a preview of the later Nietzsche’s more fully developed Romanticism and perspectivism. The Birth of Tragedy represents a return to original sources—a ricorso in Vico’s (1744/1968) terms—an attempt to go back in time to the original words, sounds, and movements of the ancient Greeks. A reconciliation of art and philosophy, it is both rhapsodic and dialectical. It shows Nietzsche’s capacity for both immer- sion in and perspective on a topic. In this book, Nietzsche attempts to counter the one-sided, idealized view of art as representation, with an appreciation for 180 WADLINGTON art’s unconscious and irrational sources. To visualize what Nietzsche called the Apollonian, we need only think of the pristine white marble and human propor- tions of an ancient Greek temple or sculpture (although more recently art histori- ans remind us that such temples were often brightly painted and statues clothed!). A visualization of what Nietzsche called Dionysian might include an image of a festive occasion, satyrs, and the imbibing of wine. In contrast to the rational, Apollonian view of art as embodying “restraint, measure, … [and] … harmony” (Kaufmann, in Nietzsche, 1872/1967, p. 9), Nietzsche reminds us of the powerful Dionysian spirit of music and dance that lies beneath. He intuitively grasped the origins of tragedy in the choral dance and song of the Dithyramb (“a community of unconscious actors” p. 64). He understood that tragedy arises out of the satiric but that there is a necessary tension between the two. Tragedy needs comedy; to be en- dured by an audience, every tragedy must be relieved by a satiric, comic episode that follows. In The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche (1872/1967) penetrates to the core of the tragic sense of life, confronting the harsh reality that despite life’s efforts to pre- vail, death always overcomes. In his words, “man now sees everywhere only the horror or absurdity of existence” (p. 60). This is the very realization reached by Schopenhauer which was the genesis of his pessimistic view that the tragic spirit leads to resignation. But here, by separating himself from his precursor, Nietzsche is able to achieve his deepest existential insight. Nietzsche sees art as “a saving sor- ceress, expert at healing” (p. 60). In the dithyrambic chorus of the Greeks he sees the mythopoetic power for transforming horror and sorrow into humor and song. Thus, in the words of Kaufmann, “from tragedy Nietzsche learns that one can af- firm life as sublime, beautiful, and joyous in spite of all suffering and cruelty.” (Kaufmann, in Nietzsche, 1872/1967, p. 11). This notion of living fully and art- fully in spite of the inevitability of limitation, endings, and death is central to Nietzsche’s aesthetic: Art is not just representational, it is transformative of the spirit! Art is necessary, said Nietzsche, “lest we perish through the truth” (1901/1968, p. 435). Nietzsche’s preface to the 1886 edition of The Birth of Tragedy (1872/1967), written when he was 41, and called “Attempt at a Self-Criticism,” is a remarkable work in itself, and according to Kaufmann, “one of the finest things he ever wrote” (p. 3). In it Nietzsche offers the sort of honest perspective on himself most of us (as would-be-critics) could only hope to have. With the perspective of 14 years of ex- perience, Nietzsche was able to mock himself, not out of meanness but with humor and true humility. In his words, The Birth of Tragedy was “a first book … in every bad sense of that label … [a] book marked by every defect of youth.” And he goes on, “badly writ- ten, ponderous, embarrassing, image-mad and image-confused, sentimental, … uneven in tempo … very convinced and therefore disdainful of proof … a book for 181 THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY initiates” (1872/1967, p. 19). Here Nietzsche separated himself from his own pre- vious work that had become an inhibiting precursor. Every artists’ work is both an embarrassment and a source of pride. Like our children, our works have the power to hurt us deeply as well as bring us joy. Nietz- sche’s perspectivism, so apparent in this self-criticism, is a necessary complement to his romantic aestheticism (Nehamas, 1995). In satirizing himself, Nietzsche showed himself ready to relinquish his awe of Schopenhauer, of Socrates, and of himself. In his later work, Nietzsche “became increasingly aware of the necessity for a disciple to leave behind his erstwhile master and follow himself” (Rudnytsky, 1987, p. 221). At the conclusion of the first part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Nietz- sche (1883/1978) puts these words into the mouth of Zarathustra, the great teacher, who cautions his followers: One repays a teacher badly if one remains nothing but a pupil. And why do you not want to pluck at my wreath? You revere me; but what if your reverence tumbles one day? Beware lest a statue slay you (p. 78). Zarathustra, the exemplar of self-discovery, encourages those who wish to learn to reach for their own truths rather than seeking “the way.” To those who inquire, he says “This is my way; where is yours?” (p. 195). THE TRAUMA OF BIRTH Nietzsche’s originality and penetrating honesty proved daunting to Freud, for whom it evoked an anxious ambivalence. He said that Nietzsche had reached a “more penetrating knowledge of himself than any other man who ever lived or was ever likely to live” (Jones, 1955, p. 344). Freud (1914/1957) also claimed, how- ever, to have “denied … [himself] … the very great pleasure of reading the works of Nietzsche, with the deliberate object of not being hampered in working out the impressions received in psychoanalysis by any sort of anticipatory ideas” (p. 15–16). It was this seeming contradiction that Rank’s gift to Freud of Nietzsche’s collected works dramatizes. Among Freud’s protégés, no one understood Nietz- sche as deeply as Rank, the first “lay analyst” (Freud, 1926/1959) and one of the first to develop what we would now call an existential-humanistic psychotherapy. But Rank has been misunderstood and what is needed is a revaluation, to use Nietzsche’s term, of Rank’s psychology. The Trauma of Birth (Rank, 1924/1993) is more important historically than con- ceptually. The book established birth as “the prototype for all anxiety” (Lieberman, 1985. p. 221) and shifted the emphasis from the patient’s father transference to the 182 WADLINGTON relationship with the mother (p. 222) but, in doing so, because it challenged the primacy of the Oedipal, it led to a rupture in Rank’s relationship with Freud that was never to be repaired. It is far from Rank’s best work and it lacked the kind of critical perspective and distance we saw in Nietzsche’s self-evaluation. The Trauma of Birth was an awkward attempt to squeeze a vast and encyclopedic cross-cultural knowl- edge of literary and artistic iconology into the narrow container of psychoanalytic theory. It was contrived in its effort to translate the mythopoetic into the reductive scientific language of psychoanalysis. Rank was too much under the influence of Freud to consciously and willingly separate from his mentor and surrogate father. Rank, Freud’s designated ambassador to and from the world of folklore, myth, liter- ature, and art, was too scientific, too justificational, too psychoanalytic for his own good, and too unable to see the irony of his own symbolic birth. “The Trauma of Birth was praised, criticized, misunderstood, and finally, ignored after Rank’s break with orthodox analysis” (Lieberman, in Rank, 1924/1993, p. x). After an initially warm reception (Freud had only read parts of it), Rank was hurt—his narcissism wounded—by the intensity of Freud’s criticism. When he recovered, he went on, for- tunately, to develop his own unique approach. One of the wonders of The Trauma of Birth is its appreciation of the perva- siveness and power of birth imagery. Ironically, Rank was better able to see birth symbolism in Nietzsche than in his own work. In a chapter on “Philosophic Speculation,” Rank generously acknowledged his debt to Nietzsche and showed his understanding of Nietzsche’s struggle to free himself from his philosophical precursor, Socrates. Nietzsche had the utmost admiration for this master of dia- lectical method, known to us only by his speech and reputation. In Nietzsche’s lectures, “Socrates is celebrated as ‘the first philosopher of life [Lebensphilo- soph]’”(Kaufmann, 1974a, p. 396). Nietzsche thought of him as original. In Soc- rates, “Thought serves life, while in all previous philosophers life served thought and knowledge” (p. 396). Rank read The Birth of Tragedy carefully and certainly saw Nietzsche as he wanted to be seen, as an “artistic Socrates”(Nietzsche, 1967/1872, p. 12). The birth imagery is abundant. Rank remembered that “Soc- rates himself likened his dialectic therapy of drawing forth thoughts to the prac- tice of midwifery, as he practices it in imitation of his mother who was a mid- wife” (Rank, 1924/1993, pp. 181–182). Rank’s own will therapy was itself a powerful drawing forth of unborn selves. Rank also read what Nietzsche (1872/1967) said about Socrates’ death—that Socrates voluntarily willed his death. In choosing hemlock over exile, Socrates sentenced himself to death, an act “Socrates himself seems to have brought about with perfect awareness and without any natural awe of death” (p. 89). Rank (1924/1993) sees the image of the dying Socrates as that of “the human being freed, through knowledge and reason, from the fear of death” (p. 182). But as Nietzsche understood, and Rank would come to understand, knowledge and rea- 183 THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY son are not enough. An intellectual overcoming of the birth trauma and the death fear through will, intention, and action is also required. Both Nietzsche and Rank also ultimately saw the necessity of active encounter with the irrational. They rec- ognized the importance of going beyond the belief that mere insight and talk were enough. Both advocated the kind of courage and independence of will that only arises in full conscious engagement with one’s mortality, as experienced here and now. Even in The Trauma of Birth, were seeds of Rank’s existential approach. Rank moved away from the kind of reductive interpretation of birth trauma he offered in this early book. In time The Trauma of Birth changed even Freud’s think- ing about the source of anxiety but by then Rank had gone beyond an emphasis on birth and was immersed in the development of an independent approach to the therapeutic process. Rank literally moved away from Freud and his followers; he came to The United States and introduced an alternative to psychoanalysis—a present-focused and engaged psychotherapy—to a receptive audience of social workers and psychologists eager for a more time-limited and more client-centered approach. In the meantime, The Trauma of Birth came to represent for Rank only painful memories. According to Lieberman (1985), later in his life “Rank told a friend he wished he had never written the book” (p. 221). Will therapy, Rank’s constructive alternative to psychoanalysis, is existential. It emphasizes present-centered awareness, acknowledgement of limitation, and cre- ative seizing of improvisational opportunities. Birth was still important but now it was the healthy separation of client from therapist that took center stage. Thera- peutic innovations such as “end-setting” (Rank, 1929/1978, p. 185) were Rank’s way to remind the client of his or her own strength of will. Rank encouraged going beyond a stage of bargaining with death. He thought self-stifling and inhibition were ways to postpone death. He believed clients were able to overcome the neu- rotic hoarding that leads to an unlived life. Rank’s will therapy, an active here- and-now approach that deals openly and honestly with termination, is a forerunner of much of what we now call existential psychotherapy. There is no direct lineage from Rank to contemporary practitioners of this ther- apeutic art. Rank’s approach is more intuitive and experientially rediscoverable than knowable and teachable. Rigorously nondogmatic and determined to avoid the zealotry and elitism he discovered within the Freudian movement, Rank never established a school of his own; instead he developed an approach that requires in- novation and spontaneity on the part of the practitioner, no less than on the part of the client. Rank’s original contribution to psychology is a timeless art, a highly sit- uational and present-centered psychotherapy addressed to the fundamental exis- tential concern of living fully in spite of death. It is an approach that challenges the client’s own anxiety of influence—his or her belief that the past is fate; it simulta- neously encourages the therapist to relinquish influence over the client so that the client can give birth to a newly independent self. 184 WADLINGTON THE WOLFMAN DREAM A famous dream provides insight about influence—particularly about Freud’s in- fluence on Rank and Rank’s ultimate reaction to it. This dream is a familiar one from the psychoanalytic literature: the Wolfman dream from Freud’s case studies (Freud, 1914/1955). The Wolfman was destined to become one of Freud’s most fa- mous offspring—one of his immortal clinical cases. First the dream: I dreamt that it was night and that I was lying in my bed (my bed stood with its foot to- ward the window; in front of the window there was a row of old walnut trees. I know it was winter when I had the dream, and night-time.) Suddenly the window opened of its own accord, and I was terrified to see some white wolves sitting on the big walnut tree in front of the window. There were six or seven of them. The wolves were quite white and looked more like foxes or sheep-dogs, for they had big tails like foxes and they had their ears pricked up like dogs when they pay attention to something. In great terror, evidently of being eaten up by the wolves, I screamed and woke up. (in Menaker, 1981, p. 554) The patient known as The Wolfman had this dream at age 4, then intermittently throughout his life. Freud interpreted and reinterpreted it but perhaps his best- known interpretation has to do with the patient’s castration anxiety, of Oedipal ori- gin, based on a fear of retribution for having witnessed the primal scene. Esther Menaker, one of the first to bring Rank’s work to a contemporary psy- chological audience, shows that several years after his Trauma of Birth, Rank had another way of understanding it. Rank’s interpretation dramatically illustrates his divergence from Freud and his hard-won understanding of the necessity of over- coming precursors. Menaker (1981) suggests that the retelling of the dream many years after it was dreamt calls for a new interpretation. The dream, she suggests, is best understood in terms of the context where it occurs—not in terms of the past but in the context of the therapeutic relationship, the relationship between patient and analyst, between The Wolfman and Freud. As Rank correctly understood, the dream “is a communication to Freud” (Menaker, 1981, p. 555). As Menaker notes, Rank interprets the tree outside the window as a family tree; and indeed there were chestnut trees outside Freud’s office window which a patient lying on the couch would be looking at because the sofa faced the window. On the narrow strip of wall beside the windowframe there hung photographs of Freud’s disciples. These are the wolves sitting on the tree; they are the siblings whom the patient fears, envies, and would like to replace. (p. 555) Rank’s interpretation is that the dream is about precursors, not only the Wolfman’s but also Rank’s own, and importantly, for him, the dream is a reminder of the im- 185 THE BIRTH OF TRAGEDY portance of attending to the actual therapeutic relationship in the consulting room where it takes place. This “here and now” focus would become central in Rank’s later writing on psychotherapy. Rank’s immortality is largely and ironically the result of his ambivalent rela- tionship to Freud. Rank is more famous now for his break with Freud and for the biting criticisms to which he was subjected by various “wolves,” than for his inno- vative later work. In this sense, Rank is a tragic figure, never fully recognized for his individuality and never completely able to outlive his intellectual father. Al- though 38 years younger than Freud, Rank died just a month after him. But at his death he seemed to have found the kind of ironic perspective he treasured in Nietz- sche, for he was heard to say in his last breath, “comical” (Lieberman, 1985, p. 389). CONCLUSION To the question of whether the existence of powerful precursors is daunting or stimulating, we must conclude that for Nietzsche and Rank the necessity of going beyond “strong poets” of their time, although painful and awkward, was a spur to creative action and productivity. For both men awe of their intellectual predeces- sors receded as they, through acts of will and self-determination, developed inde- pendent stances. Nietzsche and Rank both needed to put previous works behind them to move on. Nietzsche’s means of doing so was ruthless self-critique; Rank’s was to move away and leave the past behind. For both Nietzsche and Rank, even to have (intellectual) parents was to admit that one is mortal. An acute awareness of the inevitability of death led both, however, not to resignation but to an affirmation of life and further creativity. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS It would be an oversight not to acknowledge my own precursors. I appreciate the extensive contributions to the study of Otto Rank made by two individuals from whom I have liberally appropriated—E. James Lieberman and R. G. K. Kainer. Thank you both! REFERENCES Bloom, H. (1973). The anxiety of influence: A theory of poetry. New York: Oxford University Press. Bloom, H. (1975). A map of misreading. New York: Oxford University Press. 186 WADLINGTON Freud, S. (1955). From the history of an infantile neurosis (1918). In J. Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The standard edition of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 17, pp. 1–122). Lon- don: Hogarth Press. (Original work published 1914) Freud, S. (1957). On the history of the psychoanalytic movement. In J. Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The standard edition of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 14, pp. 3–66). London: Hogarth Press. (Original work published 1914) Freud, S. (1959). The question of lay analysis. In J. Strachey (Ed. & Trans.), The standard edition of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud. (Vol. 20, pp. 177–258). London: Hogarth Press. (Original work published 1926) Jones, E. (1955). The life and works of Sigmund Freud (Vol. 2). New York: Basic. Kainer, R. G. K., & Gourevitch, S. (1983). On the distinction between narcissism and will: Two aspects of the self. Psychoanalytic Review, 70(4), 535–552. Kainer, R. G. K., & Kainer, S. (1984). The anxiety of influence in the creation of theory. Psychoanalytic Review, 71(1), 169–177. Kaufmann, W. (1974a). Nietzsche: philosopher, psychologist, Antichrist. Princeton, NJ: Princeton Uni- versity Press. Kaufmann, W. (1974b). Nietzsche and existentialism. Symposium: A Quarterly Journal in Modern For- eign Literatures, Spring, pp. 7–16. Lieberman, J. (1985). Acts of will: The life and work of Otto Rank. New York: Free Press. Menaker, E. (1981). Otto Rank’s contribution to psychoanalytic communication. Contemporary Psy- choanalysis, 17(4), 552–564. Nehamas, A. (1995). Nietzsche: Life as literature. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Nietzsche, F. (1967). The birth of tragedy and the case of Wagner. (W. Kaufmann, Trans.), New York, Vintage Books. (Original work published 1872) Nietzsche, F. (1968). The will to power. (W. Kaufmann & R. J. Hollingdale, Trans.), New York: Vintage Books. (Original work published 1901) Nietzsche, F. (1974). The gay science. (W. Kaufmann, Trans.), New York, Vintage Books. (Original work published 1882) Nietzsche, F. (1978). Thus spoke Zarathustra: A book for none and all. (W. Kaufmann, Trans.), New York: Penguin Books. (Original work published 1883) Rank, O. (1978). Will therapy. (J. Taft, Trans.), New York: Norton. (Original work published 1929) Rank, O. (1993). The trauma of birth. New York: Dover. (Original work published 1924) Rudnytsky, P. (1987). Freud and Oedipus. New York: Columbia University Press. Stolorow, R., & Atwood, G. (1976). An ego-psychological analysis of the work and life of Otto Rank in the light of modern conceptions of narcissism. The International Review of Psychoanalysis, 3(4), 441–459. Vico, G. (1968). The new science of Giambattista Vico. (T.G. Bergin & M.H. Fisch, Ed. and Trans.). Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. (Original work published 1744) Wadlington, W. (2001). Otto Rank’s art. The Humanistic Psychologist, 29 (1–3), 280–283. AUTHOR NOTE Will Wadlington is a psychologist and former art professor. He is Associate Direc- tor for Clinical Services at The Center for Counseling and Psychological Services at Penn State University, where he does individual and group psychotherapy and supervision. A previous article by Will on Otto Rank appeared in this journal in 2001. 
work_3ibsignjjfdurf2gya6elvvsqa	----	Durational ethics Search, finding, and translation of Fauconnet’s “Essay on responsibility and liberty”: Search, finding, and translation of Fauconnet’s “Essay on responsibility and liberty”: HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory: Vol 4, No 1 Skip to main content SearchSearch This journal Anywhere Quick Search in JournalsSearchSearch Quick Search anywhereSearchSearch Advanced Search Log in | Register Access provided by Carnegie Mellon University Skip main navigationmenuDrawerCloseTextmenuDrawerOpenTextHome Subscribe/renew Institutions Individual subscriptions Recommend to your library Purchase back issues Browse issues All issues Online sample issue For contributors Submit manuscript Author guidelines Publication ethics Editorial policies Authors' rights Open access at Chicago Obtaining permissions About About HAU Editorial team Contact the editorial team Abstracting and indexing Advertise in HAU HomeHAU: Journal of Ethnographic TheoryVolume 4, Number 1 Previous article Next article Free Durational ethics Search, finding, and translation of Fauconnet’s “Essay on responsibility and liberty” JANE I. GUYER JANE I. GUYER Johns Hopkins University Search for more articles by this author Johns Hopkins University Abstract Full Text PDF EPUB MOBI Add to favorites Download Citations Track Citations Permissions Reprints Share on Facebook Twitter Linked In Reddit Email QR Code Sections More Abstract This paper introduces and explains the forum around my translation of the appendix to Paul Fauconnet’s 1920 book, entitled La responsabilité. Étude de sociologie, which resulted from his doctoral thesis. The appendix of this book is devoted to “The sentiment of responsibility and the sentiment of liberty.” The ideas in this piece on liberty were clearly developed in conversation with Durkheim and with other members of the group. My reading in the anthropology of ethics for papers of my own, led me to new work on liberty, but I found less attention than I expected in our contemporary anthropological scholarship to what I called durational ethics, which encompasses concepts such as responsibility, in the prospective sense, and fortitude. The following introduction explains this trajectory of exploration, which led me to Fauconnet’s work, excerpts passages from a conference paper of mine entitled “Steadfastness and goodness,” and prefaces the translation. In addition, it profiles Fauconnet and offers a background to the concept of libre arbitre in Romance language thought, as differing from its usual translation as “free will” in the Germanic register of English. L’Éthique étendue : chercher, trouver et traduire « L’Essai sur la responsabilité et de la liberté » de Fauconnet Résumé: Ce texte présente et explique le forum autour de ma traduction de l’annexe de 1920 au livre de Paul Fauconnet, intitulé La Responsibilité. Étude de sociologie, qui a résulté de sa thèse de doctorat. L’annexe de ce livre porte sur « Le sentiment de la responsabilité et le sentiment de la liberté ». Les idées relatives à la liberté furent clairement développées en conversation avec Durkheim et d’autres membres du groupe. Mes lectures en anthropologie de l’éthique pour mes propres écrits m’ont conduit à de nouveaux travaux sur la liberté, mais contre toute attente l’anthropologique contemporaine semble avoir accordé moins d’attention à ce que j’appelle une éthique étendue, qui englobe des concepts tels que la responsabilité, dans un sens prospectif, et la force morale. Cette introduction explique ce parcours exploratoire, qui m’a conduit au travail de Fauconnet, cite des extraits d’une de mes conférences intitulée « La constance et la bonté », et tient lieu de préface à la traduction. En outre, j’y dresse un portrait de Fauconnet et apporte un arrière-plan à la notion de libre arbitre dans la pensée et la langue romane, en opposition à sa traduction habituelle de free will dans le registre germanique de l’anglais. The logic I happened upon Fauconnet’s book La responsabilité (1920) while researching what I had termed durational ethics for two invited presentations in the spring of 2013. Those papers were entitled “Response and responsibility” and “Steadfastness and goodness.” These themes were provoked by my (Guyer 2011) earlier reading for an article on “perseverance,” with respect to both personal and professional engagements. These papers were not primarily informed by my own ethnographically based or even theoretically based scholarship, although I will mention a Yoruba instance from field research later. I had found the themes of responsibility and perseverance to be personally provocative and challenging. And, even though the concept of a covenantal relationship between anthropologists and the communities in which we work had been envisaged in the American Anthropological Association ethical guidelines, the combination of responsibility and perseverance seemed to be writ rather small in our current literature on ethics. This is especially true in the durational, prospective sense of taking responsibility for a situation, domain, or activity, and sticking with it, which includes going forward toward some kind of benchmark in the future whether immediate, near, far, or eternal. I had in mind a quality that went beyond fulfilling a defined role in a plan or structure, a quality that comprised a certain imagination and commitment with respect to whatever might arise within a particular context, as time frames played out. One relevant quality arose early in my searches: the concept of fortitude, or courage, which—as one of the four cardinal virtues along with temperance, prudence and justice—has a long history in Christian religious thought, from St. Augustine to Paul Tillich. Additionally, the related quality of perseverance emerges in Spinoza’s thought. This was clearly deep theological and philosophical water, and I wondered whether the secularization of ethics had worked its own selectivity, enhanced by a sense of a slow advance of general peace and wellbeing, to relocate fortitude back into the military context that it had occupied in Greek thought. In comparative and historical study, however, I thought that it was still a relevant concept in the present. Fauconnet’s book turned out to be relevant to this line of thinking for several reasons. In his appendix, he had developed the concept of responsibility beyond its legal-juridical context, to discuss it as a sentiment, in relationship to the sentiment of liberty. So, both of them together were thought of in a particular configuration of convictions and capacities, which he was also clearly taking beyond its grounding in Christian thought (“whom to serve is perfect freedom”), and which he was explicitly abstracting from the theologically-based libre arbitre version of free will (to be discussed later in my appendix). At the same time, his formulation evaded the autonomous individual of liberal thinking as a first principle, which the Année Sociologique school found philosophically overstated. Although this book is not Durkheim’s own work or in Durkheim’s voice, it is deeply influenced by Fauconnet’s years of collaborative work with both him and with the Année Sociologique school. Therefore, it can possibly contribute to a fuller picture of their work on morals than the various unsynthesized sources that were left by Durkheim himself. The book explicitly incorporates Durkheim’s lecture notes at his own request, and it was read in its entirety by Marcel Mauss. It has never been translated into English, and since it could possibly be a useful original source—precisely on issues raised by James Laidlaw (2002) in his important article on the anthropology of ethics and by Michael Lambek (2010) in his edited collection on “ordinary ethics”—it seemed worth placing it in the English-speaking intellectual world. It was in order to provide the source in an accessible form, with a commentary by a social theorist, John Kelly, that this work was undertaken and supported by the Hau editors, for whom I was already carrying out another translation during the summer of 2013 (Marcel Mauss on joking relations—see Hau Volume 3, Issue 2). It is by fortunate chance, not by design as a critique, that our publication date coincides with the symposium on James Laidlaw’s (2014) new book. I had not read any of this book until the last minute before the co-publication of the symposium and our forum, so the points I bring out here are entirely a function of my past reading and simply a recognition of the importance of the challenging juxtaposition that Laidlaw puts before us, as a comparative anthropological topic of study: freedom and ethics. I am not an erudite scholar in the anthropology of ethics, so I may be overstating the situation here, but, in my reading for the preparation of my previously mentioned papers, I did not find sustained attention to particular temporal framings that fall between the immediate and the long term. The literature I consulted was stronger on: cause and effect one act at a time; the very long time framework of self-cultivation; and the formal fulfillment of roles whose features would endure beyond any particular incumbent’s tenure of the position. Neither are the orientations and actions in the temporality of prospective responsibility reducible to the classic obligations of promise, deferral, and eventual repayment in reciprocal exchange relations, as has sometimes been inferred from Mauss’ Essay on the gift. The kind of personal commitment I was searching for inhabits “near futures” under conditions where indeterminacy is a fully recognized feature of the prospects looking forward (Guyer 2007). My reading made me wonder how the new virtue ethics configured this component of moral regimes, where accepting a domain, then holding steady, hanging in, keeping going and enduring through thick and thin would be individually ethically crucial. It would also be radically contingent upon what such acceptance could bring in the eventual playing out of life, where each small intervention or abstention might be profoundly consequential because of its insertion in complex mutual concatenations. Because of duration and contingency, which require recurrent, nested temporal-ethical imaginations, the narrow cause and effect interpretation of the durational aspects of responsibility and perseverance does not seem reducible to simply submitting to obligations that have been specified and imposed from outside, or even committed to explicitly at the outset. I began to wonder whether the use of responsibility in this sense, and such vernacular concepts as steadfastness were class specific in Europe. Although, they certainly exist in other cultural regimes as I will suggest later. The word steadfastness had been used by my mother (Mason 1973) in her family history. She applied the term to kin and neighbors who took care of three little sisters during WWI after their mother died following childbirth and their father was drafted to military service in France. The lower classes of Western Europe have a social-experiential history for which modernity and enlightenment would be a hypocritical misrepresentation, if taken under the general rubric of a shared “western culture.” Service and suffering during frequent warfare across the centuries, the centrality of variously mobilized and exploited labor in social history, serious punishments for delicts that now seem minor and largely a function of inequality, and deep skepticism about the claims of the upper class to virtue: These are issues that might give a different grounding to the meaning of responsibility, linking it to perseverance in both a defensive and aspirational manner. For the lower classes, this link to perseverance is over the foreseeable near futures, which might be the only time horizon for which they could realistically hope to plan. While certainly being participants, as foot-soldiers, in the massive interventions in world history constituted by the slave trade and colonial rule, it seems unlikely that the European working class would have been surprised that John Locke, the father of liberalism, invested in the United Africa Company, which made much of its money from the slave trade. Likewise, ideological capture of ordinary ethical concepts for political purposes, such as the recent neoliberal emphasis on responsibilization, has been a recurrent phenomenon that does not, however, make the continuing vernacular practice necessarily a sham. Ideology and ethical practice share terms in deeply disconcerting, but analyzable, ways. I was particularly struck by the way in which Fauconnet placed the sentiment of responsibility as a precondition to the sentiment of liberty, rather than as a result of it, and by how, for him, the primary ethical act was to “make an effort” in life, which had a reciprocal, reflexive effect on the self rather than being a constraint. He was referring to an orientation to the good, but not an orientation by imposition. I thought this was useful to put into the archive of thought on ethics. In order to make more of this source than I am able to do myself, philosopher Souleymane Bachir Diagne then offered a guide on the religious grounding of the concept of libre arbitre (usually “free will” in English) which recurs in Fauconnet’s text. Additionally, John Kelly offered to contextualize the Fauconnet work within our received understanding of Durkheim on morality. The coincidence of publication of the Forum and the Symposium allows me to make parts of my logic more explicit, very briefly, and to include a few paragraphs from my paper, “Steadfastness and goodness,” written for the 2013 conference “The Comparative Study of the Good” organized by Joel Robbins and held in Helsinki.. Freedom and durational ethics: Relative to the anthropology of ethics (2012–13) Responsibility in this durational sense can come under the rubric of care, and is interspersed in many other places in our anthropological literature. The freedom that Laidlaw importantly inserted into the anthropology of ethics in 2002, drew on the crucial centrality of reflection, as distinct from submission, in ethical reasoning. The small interventions in the entailments of everyday life seemed, however, to be assimilated to unreflective routine. In a concatenated, futures-oriented, assumption of responsibility, what appears to be routine might matter profoundly. Working from my reading of the literature so far, the following paragraphs are from my 2013 paper “Steadfastness and goodness,” which are relative to “freedom” and the “school of life”, as distinct from “reflection” in the sense of contemplation: By taking ethics out of a version of Christian history, as necessarily self-denying and ascetic, and necessarily encapsulated in consequentialist “agency,” Laidlaw (2002: 322) opens up a much broader terrain of potential for what is considered to be ethical, and suggests life-projects of self-fashioning where people “transform themselves, modify themselves … to attain a certain state of perfection, happiness, purity, supernatural power.” It is worth noting the examples given, even if only briefly. He does qualify the emphasis Foucault gives to sexuality as central, but nevertheless the sexual-sensual and intellectual domains are those within which the theory is developed (as distinct, for example, from the domestic domain, or a community context, or work, or an environmental point of reference). Thus, the examples tend to be of self-selected disciplinary acts, rather than the facing of multitudinous and multifarious life-situations, or the persistent conditions of, for example, very hard work. He draws on monastic disciplines, and an ascetic training in Jainism. Clearly a certain constancy and consistency is implied, but what is not yet clear here is whether, and how, the disciplines-of-theself in a secularized ethical context are based on anticipation, response, and responsibility in the context of “matters arising” in the course of life-as-lived. Do we expect life to be demanding, turbulent, and a recurrent challenge (demanding and dreadful situations? temptation? fulfillment?)? Under a regime of “care-of-the-self,” are there guidelines for how to meet the many challenges in a “careful” way such that our situational responses and reflections have an incremental effect on that “self”?... Laidlaw’s contribution to Michael Lambek’s (2010) collection Ordinary ethics gives us an insight to how “life itself” might not figure too prominently in an anthropology of ethics derived through Foucault. Citing Sherry Ortner, Laidlaw (2010: 144) suggests that ethical agency should be distanced from “merely routine practices,” just as it should also be taken out of a necessarily structure-oriented understanding of efficacy. “Mere routine” may be a problem, however. Veena Das (2010: 377), in the same volume, locates ethical practice—in the literal self-pedagogic sense as well as the social sense—precisely in the “everyday” by defining “a notion of the everyday in which how I respond to the claims of the other, as well as how I allow myself to be claimed by the other, defines the work of self-formation.” She (ibid.: 395) opposes seeing morality as “some version of following rules” (even, I suggest, as a pedagogy of the self), but rather seeing “everyday life as an achievement.” Are there precursors to her position? Ralph Waldo Emerson, in The conduct of life (1883) and especially in a section entitled “Conditions by the way” (so, not specific to a particular type of conduct), makes eloquent claims for everyday life and its challenges as the grounds and terms for self-formation. “By humiliations, by defeats, by loss of sympathy, by gulfs of disparity, (we) learn a wider truth and humanity than that of a fine gentleman.… What tests of manhood could he stand? Take him out of his protection?” (229). In fact, adversities alone—and explicitly not pedagogy—offer training, so he advocates facing them: “We acquire the strength we have overcome” (224); “life is rather a subject of wonder than of didactics” (215). Courage is both the condition for, and an outcome of, a life in which “The high prize (of life), the crowning fortune of a man is to be born with a bias to some pursuit, which finds him in employment and happiness—whether it be to make baskets or broadswords, or canals, or statutes, or songs” (234). What then emerges in the end—and this is the last sentence of his book—is “the courage to be what we are” (263). What we are, for him, is a person with a “bias” for a specific kind of creative work, and a capacity for friendship. So we keep creative work, friendship and the domestic sphere in mind as Emerson’s own definitions of the “good.” For him, in his time and place, one actively sought out the many challenges that life itself posed. The move into “life itself” as offering the recurrent ethical discipline does begin to take on new meaning in some new comparative work, for example on the cultivation of a new disposition in South India (see Pandian 2009). But durational virtues such as fortitude are not yet a prominent theme within this theoretical development. The main place where we do find it returning is in relation to the conditions of late liberal life in turbulence (Povinelli 2011; Butler and Athanasiou 2013). Here the sociopolitical referent to endurance and other durational dispositions becomes central, and takes us back to the social grounding questions with respect to virtues that are raised by Alasdair McIntyre. A subsequent reading of the chapter “Taking responsibility seriously,” in Laidlaw’s (2014) new book, whose title links virtue, ethics, and freedom and which is discussed in the Symposium in this issue, shows that he still addresses responsibility more forensically, in retrospect or with an immediate future referent, than prospectively, toward complex near futures with respect to imagined but varying temporal durations, social spans, and uncontrollable contingencies. He writes of “the attribution of responsibility (cause, intention, state, response)” (ibid.: 201). Many of the examples are of the modular, exemplary kind, where these four components can be intellectually isolated. This is certainly one important intellectual endeavor. A full comparative treatment of ethics, however, would seem to require complementary attention to the complications of responsibility as assumed for contingent situations, within concatenated interconnections, with respect to possibly obstreperous or vulnerable other people, and near futures when anything could happen, which do not easily lend themselves to precise forensic analysis, even though such responsibilities are, in fact, taken up by people in the throes of what Emerson might have concurred to be “the school of life.” Here, freedom and responsibility interpenetrate rather than emanating from autonomy as the reference point. Two short ethnographic moments This first ethnographic example amplifies the notion that, even as MacIntyre himself notes, virtue ethics was culture and class specific in its Greek origins. During fieldwork in Western Nigeria, I was asking about debt repayment. The manager of a contribution club told me that sometimes they have to invoke asa, in light of the debtor’s circumstances when the date for repayment arrives. Asa translates roughly as “custom,” but its etymology is “choice,” so with no intimation of constraint. In Yoruba thought, what is handed down is a kind of archive of heterogeneous wisdoms. The diviners or elders then match the specific case and person at hand, to a vast corpus of poetry and experience, and then choose an apposite resolution as guidance for action, in that case. In the case of a routine secular issue, such as debt repayment on time, to act in accordance with asa is to riff through this archive to find a solution that “won’t make everything worse.” This would clearly index to a collectivity of some sort, and to a general responsibility to keep picking up the pieces and reconfiguring them. In Western thought, this kind of grounding is inaccurately considered as a kind of constraining lockstep of traditional solidarity. Indeed, a certain kind of original freedom is presupposed by the Yoruba concept of temperament and destiny being chosen by each individual before birth, and em bodied in the ori or “head.” The recognition that there are different emphases, in different ethical regimes, on varied temporalities becomes crucial. My second, different, example comes from my (2013) “Steadfastness and good ness” paper, and is quoting and commenting on a rural, working class ethic in war time that is occasionally inflected with explicitly Christian values. The following quoted material in this passage from my paper is from the daily journal of Iris Origo ([1947] 1984), War in Val D’Orcia: An Italian war diary 1943–1944. When I look back upon these years of tension and expectation, of destruction and sorrow, it is individual acts of kindness, courage or faith that illuminate them.…” (15) She poses ethical questions and makes ethical observations: “At the end of each day prudence inquired, ‘Have I done too much?’—and enthusiasm and compassion, ‘Might I not, perhaps, have done more?’” (12) She asks: what motivates the kindness? As described by an Italian partisan (13), it is “the simplest of all ties between one man and another; the tie that arises between the man who asks for what he needs, and the man who comes to his aid as best he can,” regardless of political affiliation. And, “some old peasant-woman, whose son was a prisoner in a far away camp … might say—as she prepared a bowl of soup or made the bed for the foreigner in her house—‘Perhaps someone will do the same for my boy?’”(14–15). Of another case she observes: “Here is a man (and there are hundreds of others like him) who has run the risk of being shot, who has shared his family’s food to the last crumb, and who has lodged, clothed and protected four strangers for over three months.… What is this if not courage and loyalty?” (146). “The patience and endurance, the industry and resourcefulness of the Italian workman … in times of crisis, these qualities reach a degree that is almost heroic.… Resigned and laborious, they … turn back from the fresh graves and the wreckage of their homes to their accustomed daily toil. It is they who will bring the land to life again” (239). Origo makes the link from a capacity for kindness in extremity, to mundane and routine work, and the ordinariness of the people, that together can make of “courage” a cultivated discipline of the self, when life itself is thought to be the ethical “school” and where the terrible frequency of war has made that real and imperative. This is not an inevitability, but a quality of experience and conceptual and material coordinates. If we turn to Michael Jackson’s work on Sierra Leone in the aftermath of war and in Aboriginal Australia, he writes of courage, of the “patience and stoicism with which they go on” (2013: 223), where “it takes all our will simply to endure” and the “struggle to create viable lives” (216)—but does not yet analyze this as a specific ethical disposition. Indeed he desists from over-interpreting, and thereby perhaps distorting for one’s own purposes, what he sees as created in experiential contexts. The dangers of ideological capture certainly enter, as in the neoliberal emphasis on responsibilization which shifts the blame for clearly structural circumstances to individual culpability. But it seems clear that there are terms under which the ordinary people, practicing ordinary ethics, do experience and cultivate durational ethics, for their own immediate circumstances as well as for political struggle, of the we shall not be moved kind. Indeed, training in routine coordination, through song, work, narrative participation, and ritual collaboration, may be the grounding in which novel possibilities can find traction and from which they may eventually take new flight. And intimate memories of small gestures, through which everything awkward—from confusion to extremity—has already been navigated by oneself or others, may provide compasses, and other tools, for an indeterminate future. Return to Fauconnet’s text Thinking about cases such as these, and two war-time and post-war episodes described by my mother in her Family Album (and quoted in full in my “Steadfastness and goodness” [2013] paper), Paul Fauconnet’s appendix became useful in itself, and also as a source on the themes and collaborations characteristic of the Année Sociologique School: themes which may come through rather faintly, as we read the works one by one, in selective English translations. In fact, the members of the Année Sociologique worked very closely together, as Mauss expressed so movingly in his eulogy that precedes the Essay on the gift in the issue of the journal published in 1925 (see Guyer 2014). This appendix addresses issues that have arisen in later assessments of Durkheim’s position on the externality of moral force, the meaning of that “force,” the place of freedom (in an anti-utilitarian orientation), the place of moral feelings, and the play of experience in the course of self-fashioning. As Fauconnet’s preface suggests, he saw himself as carrying forward a collective concentration on these issues that were cardinal to Durkheim’s legacy, without necessarily being a direct mouthpiece for his master on all points. A translation also offers the opportunity for us anglophone scholars to become more familiar with the French vocabulary in moral philosophy and sociology. I myself found difficulties, faced with translation of French into the mixed Romance-Germanic vocabularies of English. Is libre arbitre well rendered as “free will,” as it is conventionally? Volonté seems more like “willingness” in some places, than like “will” in English, especially since “will” is so closely associated with German philosophical ideas, such as the will to power. With the concept of indole, Fauconnet is invoking an Italian theory of pedagogy concerned with temperament and natural inclinations, or perhaps disposition, to which John Kelly drew my attention. Where the correspondence of concepts seems to me questionable, I have kept the French original in parentheses. And, even where clumsy in English, I have tried to render reflexive verbs as they are, in order not to shift the sense of subject-object identity in action. In the spirit of appendices, I have appended to this introduction a discussion of the history of the concept of libre arbitre, helped by S. B. Diagne. In order to make available the argument of the whole work, I have translated and appended the extensive table of contents, which does address the legal-forensic issues in great detail. All contemporary readers will surely remain with unanswered questions after reading this text. My own would relate to the specific precepts and the moral and empirically-imagined terrain that fill the space of imagination and aspiration between the sacred things in life and the effort in the everyday. The sociology of the time was extricating itself from concepts and problematics coming down in a direct line of descent from theology to philosophy to science. In the spirit of both recuperation of the past text, in its place in intellectual history, and further exploration of its lacunae, I am grateful for the confidence that Diagne and Kelly placed in the worth of what became a shared endeavor. Fauconnet himself Sociologist Paul Fauconnet (1874–1938) was a young member—sixteen years Durkheim’s junior—of the Année Sociologique School at its foundation in the 1890s, and he continued to belong throughout its heyday. Marcel Fournier’s (2007) magisterial biography of Durkheim suggests that Fauconnet came into the School through friendship with Marcel Mauss (322); took up a central role in the “syndicate” of “good workers” by 1894 (206); became a “close collaborator” on the inaugural issue of the journal in 1898 (350); took over the management of one of the review sections (on “contract, responsibility and procedure”) in the third edition (414); co-authored an encyclopedia article with Durkheim on “Sociology and social sciences” in Revue Philosophique of 1903 (170); and continued close engagement with the group as his career developed. Fauconnet had chosen the topic of responsibility for his thesis by 1911, and hoped to finish it by 1913. Durkheim mentions taking time to correct the proofs in 1915 (891), but he died before the doctoral thesis was presented at the University of Paris in 1919. The text had been completed sometime during 1914, but the war had intervened in all scholarly endeavors. The book is dedicated, posthumously, to “the memory of my master, Émile Durkheim,” who had died in 1917. By the time of Durkheim’s death, Fauconnet had been working with him for about 25 years. He acknowledges the enormous influence of Durkheim, but Fournier’s account also draws attention to Fauconnet’s close intellectual affinity with Mauss, especially in relation to the rules of method. Both were seeking to “attenuate” Durkheim’s tendency to methodological “dogmatism” (471), by keeping “consciousness” within the sphere of their own science rather than defining it entirely under the auspices of psychology. We keep in mind, then, that this book is the product of a deep and long mutual engagement within the group, where a certain independence of intellectual temperament and political conviction was also maintained, amidst the vast shared erudition that was cultivated by the work of the group as a whole. From Catholic libre arbitre to Protestant “free will”? Here is a brief review of the stakes in translation of the appendix to Paul Fauconnet’s Responsibility: “The sentiment of responsibility and the sentiment of liberty” (with the help of Souleymane Bachir Diagne) The challenge of rendering the concept of, and therefore the discussions around, libre arbitre in translation from French to English, where it is conventionally translated as “free will,” has encouraged us to write a brief explanation of the concept, as it is discussed in French. It derives from the Latin of the early Church fathers, particularly St. Augustine of Hippo in the fourth century ce who wrote a treatise precisely entitled De libero arbitrio. Its development in the Middle Ages by the scholastics, and in the early modern period by philosophers, including Spinoza, drew even further back in classical philosophy, to Aristotle’s Nichomachean ethics. The deep history of the concept is clearly classical and Mediterranean in origin, and thereby nuances, very differently from the German cultures and languages, the meaning of “will,” and thereby might be better rendered as “willingness” (volonté). “Will” has gained a valence of individualized power that willingness does not evoke in the same way, although willingness, also, fails to convey adequately the centrality of choice in the concept of arbitre. The slippage in meaning between libre arbitre and its conventional translation as free will (Willensfreiheit in German) is noted immediately in the lengthy French Wikipedia review for libre arbitre (consulted April 16, 2014). This is a summary of the definition given: libre arbitre is the faculty that the human has to determine itself freely and by itself alone, to act and to think, in distinction from determinism or fatalism. By contrast with English and German, the French expression maintains the centrality of choice. The basis for this is its roots in a theology of causation in the world, which defines evil as the responsibility of the “creatures of God” but not of God Himself. The problem is how to locate responsibility for evil. Augustine’s answer was that volonté, the capacity for choice, is a good that gives dignity by being also open to abuse. If it were not exercised consciously it would bring no dignity. It is by grace that original sin has not destroyed this capacity. Choice is thereby not a narrowly rationalized action, but fundamentally an expression and aspiration within a world in which humans act in concert with their Creator, supposing a chosen union of spontaneity and intentionality: self-cultivation and purpose in the world, as reflexively intertwined. The scholastics introduced reason more forcefully into this framing of the dynamics of choice: to orient urgently towards something (vouloir) involves decisions. The Christian theologians retained from Aristotle the idea of liberty as necessarily associating will and reason, as the basis for human responsibility before the moral, penal, and divine law. Thomas Aquinas placed choice at the center of this refinement of the theory de libero arbitrio, but without secularizing the framework. The concept of libre arbitre has been the object of three categories of critique. One is theological, where to attribute libre arbitre to man is to deny, or at least minimize, the role of divine grace in good works, and to eliminate Calvinist conceptions of predestination. A second is philosophical, that libre arbitre fails to take into account the motives and influences on our choices and actions, to note that there are necessities. Because after all, libre arbitre could only fully exist as freedom of indifference, that is, when the capacity for conscious choice has no reason, and exerts no reasoning, for going one way or the other. But does such a notion make sense? Descartes thus considered freedom of indifference—that is, to suspend the capacity to reason—to be the lowest degree of freedom for humans (downgrading reason) and the highest for God (who has no need to reason). The third is psychoanalytic, that libre arbitre is not possible without a theory of the unconscious. A further extension of the third is associated with the Durkheimian school, namely that libre arbitre gave no place to constraints, which can be of several kinds: from legal to physical (that is, it simply cannot be done). Also interjected very early, was the idea that libre arbitre required a facet of reason devoted to truth and falsehood in the world, and not only to weighing the value of actions in the moral register. Spinoza raised the question of how freedom is even understood by a being who is part of nature, or how it could have been derived through a religion where God’s first action was to give freedom and immediately utter a negative injunction about its use (not to eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil). Further discussion on the Wikipedia entry addresses determinism frontally: the possibility that one day there will be a theory of the nature and evolution of the world as a whole. How, and whether, this operates on the level of grand eras or of micro-moments is a point of debate, and—in a new era of declining religious faith—perhaps a disturbingly difficult question. But we can see, from this very schematic genealogy of ideas, two useful implications for English-speakers. First, more is at stake with libre arbitre than a secularized and individualized notion of free will. Responsibility in a created world seems always to be in the picture. Nothing and no one is radically autonomous. The gods, and God, are invoked in most western ethical thought, including the Greeks, for millennia: if only as our Creator and companion(s), and not primarily as our master or judge. Secondly, the forms of determinism put forward, either to argue with libre arbitre or to see how combinations might work, have been very varied and very debated for a very long time— probably since the beginning. Apparently, a resolution is not expected, perhaps because—in the Romance configuration of ideas—the individual has never been conceptualized in the same fashion as under the Calvinist combination of radical autonomy to make totally individuated choices, and to accrue them along a totally personal trajectory to a predestined future in the afterlife. That improbable combination of total autonomy and total determination escapes from the moral world of libre arbitre into which a secular scientific sociology of morality and religion was intervening at the time when Fauconnet wrote his book on responsibility. References Judith Butler, Athena Athanasiou 2013. Dispossession: The performative in the political. Cambridge: Polity Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Veena Das 2010. “Engaging the life of the other: Love and everyday life.” In Ordinary ethics. Anthropology, language and action, edited by Michael Lambek, 376–99. New York: Fordham University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Ralph Waldo Emerson 1883. The conduct of life. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. First citation in article Google Scholar Paul Fauconnet 1920. La responsabilité. Étude de sociologie. Paris: Librairie Felix Alcan. First citation in article Google Scholar Marcel Fournier 2007. Emile Durkheim 1858–1917. Paris: Fayard. 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Lifeworlds: Essays in existential anthropology. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. First citation in article Google Scholar James Laidlaw 2002. “For an anthropology of ethics and freedom.” Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 8(2): 311–32. First citation in article Google Scholar James Laidlaw 2010. “Agency and responsibility: Perhaps you can have too much of a good thing.” In Ordinary ethics: Anthropology, language and action, edited by Michael Lambek, 143–64. New York: Fordham University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar James Laidlaw 2014. The subject of virtue: An anthropology of ethics and freedom. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Michael Lambek, ed. 2010. Ordinary ethics: Anthropology, language and action. New York: Fordham University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Alasdair MacIntyre 1981. After virtue: A study in moral theory. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Isabel Anna Mason 1973. Family album. Personal manuscript. First citation in article Google Scholar Iris Origo (1947) 1984. War in Val D’Orcia: An Italian war diary 1943–1947. Boston: David R. Godine. First citation in article Google Scholar Elizabeth Povinelli 2011. Economies of abandonment: Social belonging and endurance in late liberalism. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Anand Pandian 2009. Crooked stalks: Cultivating virtue in South India. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. First citation in article Google Scholar Jane I. GUYER works primarily on economic topics, broadly speaking, and particularly on the anthropology of money in the present world. The present work grows from a long-term interest in the larger archive of L’Année Sociologique, most recently represented in two articles focused on Marcel Mauss, in the Journal of Classical Sociology (2014), and Social Anthropology (2012). She is currently working on a book of collected essays with the working title of Legacies, logics, logistics: Towards an economic anthropology of the present. JANE I. GUYER George Armstrong Kelly Professor, Department of Anthropology, Johns Hopkins University Baltimore, MD 21218 [email protected]edu Previous article Next article Details Figures References Cited by HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory Volume 4, Number 1Summer 2014 Published on behalf of the Society for Ethnographic Theory Article DOI https://doi.org/10.14318/hau4.1.022 Views: 156 Citations: 1 Citations are reported from Crossref Keywords responsibility durational ethics free will L’Année Sociologique Fauconnet translation This work is licensed under the Creative Commons | © Jane I. Guyer. 2014. Crossref reports the following articles citing this article: James D. Faubion, Jane I. Guyer, Tom Boellstorff, Marilyn Strathern, Clémentine Deliss, Frédéric Keck, and Terry Smith On the anthropology of the contemporary: Addressing concepts, designs, and practices, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 6, no.11 (Nov 2017): 371–402.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau6.1.020 Close Figure Viewer Browse All FiguresReturn to Figure Previous FigureNext Figure Caption The University of Chicago Press Books Chicago Distribution Center The University of Chicago Terms and Conditions Statement of Publication Ethics Privacy Notice Chicago Journals accessibility University accessibility Follow us on facebook Follow us on Twitter Contact us Media and advertising requests Open access at Chicago Follow us on facebook Follow us on Twitter 
work_3kbt5y45ebayxofspbachsekzu	----	In Memoriam Edna Aizenberg, Marymount Manhattan College, 9 April 2018 Nina Joan Auerbach, University of Pennsylvania, 3 February 2017 Jacques Barchilon, University of Colorado, Boulder, 19 June 2018 Nina Baym, University of Illinois, Urbana, 15 June 2018 Lawrence I. Berkove, University of Michigan, Dearborn, 19 May 2018 Maryellen Bieder, Indiana University, Bloomington, 31 January 2018 Richard Joseph Bourcier, University of Scranton, 27 May 2018 L. Ross Chambers, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 18 October 2017 Brian W. Connolly, Xavier University, OH, 16 May 2018 June S. Cummins, San Diego State University, 22 February 2018 Craig J. Decker, Bates College, 17 March 2018 David R. Eastwood, United States Merchant Marine Academy, 14 July 2017 Milton D. Emont, Denison University, 21 January 2018 John Halperin, Vanderbilt University, 1 March 2018 Jonathan Hess, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, 9 April 2018 Barbara Hodgdon, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, 22 March 2018 Donald D. Kummings, University of Wisconsin, Parkside, 10 November 2017 Thérèse Ballet Lynn, Chapman University, 30 May 2017 David D. Mann, Miami University, Oxford, 24 December 2017 Charles A. Messner, Jr., Carleton College, 1 March 2018 Sally Todd Nelson, Dawson College, Canada, 3 April 2018 Anna Norris, Michigan State University, 18 March 2017 Philip Roth, Cornwall Bridge, CT, 22 May 2018 Estella Irvine Schoenberg, Buffalo State College, State University of New York, 17 April 2017 C. Jan Swearingen, Texas A&M University, College Station, 1 June 2017 Betty Perry Townsend, University of Maryland, College Park, 22 December 2017 Daniel D. Townsend, Anne Arundel Community College, MD, 25 May 2018 This listing contains names received by the membership ofice since the March 2018 issue. A cumulative list for the aca- demic year 2017–18 appears at the MLA Web site (www .mla .org/in_memoriam). In Memoriam [ P M L A 774 PMLA 133.3 (2018), published by the Modern Language Association of America 775 Omeka.net is a web publishing platform for sharing digital collections and creating media-rich online exhibits. Omeka.net offers the perfect platform for your digital public history work. With a range of reasonably priced plans, Omeka.net provides a hosted solution for individuals, courses, and institutions. Sign up today at www.omeka.net/signup Omeka.net is a project of the Corporation for Digital Scholarship 1-800-537-5487 press.jhu.edu Cyberformalism Histories of Linguistic Forms in the Digital Archive Daniel Shore “One of very few digital humanist works I can recommend enthusiastically to poets, and to poetry critics; it does not disappoint.”—Stephanie Burt, author of The Poem Is You $49.95 hc/eb Writing to the World Letters and the Origins of Modern Print Genres Rachael Scarborough King “This erudite, sophisticated, beautifully written book is a major achievement.”—Thomas Keymer, author of Sterne, the Moderns, and the Novel $44.95 hc/eb Reductive Reading A Syntax of Victorian Moralizing Sarah Allison “Beautifully written, confident, and illuminating. It is a book that promises to transform the way we read novels.” —Elsie B. Michie, author of The Vulgar Question of Money $49.95 hc/eb 777 1 2 5 Y E A R S O F P U B L I S H I N G S T A N F O R D U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S sup.org stanfordpress.typepad.com Maximum Feasible Participation American Literature and the War on Poverty Stephen Schryer P O S T * 4 5 Narrowcast Poetry and Audio Research Lytle Shaw P O S T * 4 5 Other Englands Utopia, Capital, and Empire in an Age of Transition Sarah Hogan he Experimental Imagination Literary Knowledge and Science in the British Enlightenment Tita Chico Uncle Tom From Martyr to Traitor Adena Spingarn Foreword by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. Karman A Brief Treatise on Action, Guilt, and Gesture Giorgio Agamben Translated by Adam Kotsko M E R I D I A N : C R O S S I N G A E S T H E T I C S 778 Reading Popular Newtonianism Print, the Principia, and the Dissemination of Newtonian Science Laura Miller $45.00 | CLOTH “Reading Popular Newtonianism makes a landmark contribution to our understanding of the cultural meanings and social impact of one of the central igures in the history of science and ideas. ”—Mark R. M. Towsey, University of Liverpool In the Red and in the Black Debt, Dishonor, and the Law in France between Revolutions Erika Vause $45.00 | CLOTH “A ground-breaking study exemplary in every way.” —Maura O’Connor, University of Cincinnati The Physics of Possibility Victorian Fiction, Science, and Gender Michael Tondre $24.50 | PAPER “Beautifully researched, beguiling, and risky in all the best ways, he Physics of Possibility opens entirely new possibilities for how we read chance in the nineteenth-century novel.”—Devin Griiths, USC 779 What Is the Present? Michael North A provocative new look at concepts of the present, their connection to ideas about time, and their effect on literature, art, and culture “ A bracing, expansive, and consistently surprising meditation on the notion of the present. 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Rodgers, author of Age of Fracture Cloth $29.95 How the Other Half Looks The Lower East Side and the Afterlives of Images Sara Blair How New York’s Lower East Side inspired new ways of seeing America “ Illuminating at almost every turn, with a telling analytical expressiveness, an utterly persuasive narrative arc, and a tour-de-force impact. No work of art has made it more richly possible to see the usable pasts of the Lower East Side than Blair’s book.” —Thomas J. Ferraro, author of Feeling Italian: The Art of Ethnicity in America Cloth $29.95 780 Looking for new ideas for teaching nineteenth-century American literature? MLA members save 30% on all MLA titles at www.mla.org/books. bookorders@mla.org n www.mla.org/books n phone orders 646 576-5161 Summer 2018 � 356 pp. Cloth $40.00 Member Price: $28.00 Paper $24.00 Member Price: $16.80 Edited by Mark C. Long and Sean Ross Meehan “The collection addresses diverse settings and pedagogical approaches beyond the traditional ones, and the roster of contributors includes some of the very best Emerson scholars. I learned something new and valuable about Emerson from every essay.” —Robert D. Habich Ball State University A leader of the transcendentalist movement and one of the country’s fi rst public intellectuals, Ralph Waldo Emerson has been a long-standing presence in American literature courses. Today he is remembered for his essays, but in the nineteenth century he was also known as a poet and orator who engaged with issues such as religion, nature, education, and abolition. Approaches to Teaching the Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson 781 Looking for new ideas for teaching twentieth-century American literature? MLA members save 30% on all MLA titles at www.mla.org/books. bookorders@mla.org n www.mla.org/books n phone orders 646 576-5161 August 2018 � 258 pp. Cloth $40.00 Member Price: $28.00 Paper $24.00 Member Price: $16.80 Edited by Logan Esdale and Deborah M. Mix “No account of American literature, literary modernism, and women’s literature would be complete without attention to Gertrude Stein. . . . This collection of essays suggests contexts in which we can teach her work.” —Jane Bowers John Jay College of Criminal Justice, City University of New York A trailblazing modernist, Gertrude Stein studied psychology at Radcliffe with William James and went on to train as a medical doctor before coming out as a lesbian and moving to Paris, where she collected contemporary art and wrote poetry, novels, and libretti. Known as a writer’s writer, she has infl uenced every generation of American writers since her death in 1946 and remains avant-garde. Approaches to Teaching the Works of Gertrude Stein 782 Looking for new ideas for teaching nineteenth-century French literature? MLA members save 30% on all MLA titles at www.mla.org/books. bookorders@mla.org n www.mla.org/books n phone orders 646 576-5161 August 2018 � 220 pp. Cloth $40.00 Member Price: $28.00 Paper $24.00 Member Price: $16.80 Edited by Michal P. Ginsburg and Bradley Stevens “This collection constitutes a rich educational tool for instructors of French who want to teach and study this great novel.” —Jacques Neefs Johns Hopkins University The greatest work of one of France’s greatest writers, Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables has captivated readers for a century and a half with its memorable characters, its indictment of injustice, its concern for those suffering in misery, and its unapologetic embrace of revolutionary ideals. The novel’s length, multiple narratives, and encyclopedic digressiveness make it a pleasure to read but a challenge to teach, and this volume is designed to address the needs of instructors in a variety of courses that include the novel in excerpts or as a whole. Approaches to Teaching Hugo’s Les Misérables Binder3.pdf 775 777 778 779 780 781 782 
work_3llcizxsjrgj5gledhcaguwu6m	----	wp-p1m-38.ebi.ac.uk Params is empty 404 sys_1000 exception wp-p1m-38.ebi.ac.uk no 217700633 Params is empty 217700633 exception Params is empty 2021/04/06-01:59:23 if (typeof jQuery === "undefined") document.write('[script type="text/javascript" src="/corehtml/pmc/jig/1.14.8/js/jig.min.js"][/script]'.replace(/\[/g,String.fromCharCode(60)).replace(/\]/g,String.fromCharCode(62))); // // // window.name="mainwindow"; .pmc-wm {background:transparent repeat-y top left;background-image:url(/corehtml/pmc/pmcgifs/wm-nobrand.png);background-size: auto, contain} .print-view{display:block} Page not available Reason: The web page address (URL) that you used may be incorrect. Message ID: 217700633 (wp-p1m-38.ebi.ac.uk) Time: 2021/04/06 01:59:23 If you need further help, please send an email to PMC. Include the information from the box above in your message. Otherwise, click on one of the following links to continue using PMC: Search the complete PMC archive. Browse the contents of a specific journal in PMC. Find a specific article by its citation (journal, date, volume, first page, author or article title). http://europepmc.org/abstract/MED/ 
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work_3opiub3szfeflczubcrcxffene	----	I 15-3 Editor's Column: Metaphoric Spaces, Existential Moments, Practical Consequences T he physical site was an elevator at an annual MLA convention. This particular elevator was located in the New York Hilton. (Many of us recall that hotel from the time when we met regularly in Manhattan, until the city’s hostelries, having concluded that academics do not spend as much or tip as well as civilian tourists, banished the MLA from the premises.) Convention elevators are much alike wherever they are, however: smallish metallic containers packed with people who are trying hard not to be too obvious in their attempts to read the name tags of fellow passengers. Of more importance were the psychological features of the site: an unforgettable annual overload of fa- tigue, elation, and anxiety shared among a wedged-in mass of strangers. It was in that place and that context that a question was directed at me over the heads of the others: “Where are you?” Turning, I glimpsed a fa- miliar face. Not stopping to consider that the purpose of my friend’s query was to find out whether I was booked into the Hilton or another of the MLA hotels, I shot back, “Is this an existential question?” Laughter filled the elevator, somewhat nervous yet warm with self-awareness. Where are we, indeed1’ We will be assaulted by this question in many places and at many moments, but are we not inordinately vulnerable to its demands when ringed by the peculiar circumstances of our professional lives and of our function as academic practitioners of languages and literatures? I cite two moments when what I do, and am, as a professor of literature was challenged in a manner that, all of a sudden, forced me to rethink the existential applicability of the words “Where are you?” I recall these mo- ments of personal experience in order to venture certain comments about the situations in which all of us as members of the MLA function in our professorial duties and about the role PMLA may take in these situations. In my persona as a citizen of Los Angeles County, I was summoned for service in a jury “pool.” Eager to escape the boredom of having to pass ten days in the jurors’ “lounge,” I hoped to get assigned to the jury “box” so that I might attend to a case. Finally called into that box for preliminary screening, I was queried by the lawyers for the defense and the prosecution. Al- though it frequently happens that potential jurors are dismissed through peremptory challenges if it is learned that they are employed by academic institutions, the lawyers seemed satisfied with my answers to the basic questions put to me. Yet the presiding judge soon told me to leave the box, step out of the pool, and return to the lounge. I was dismissed “for cause,” as it were. He stated that I could not possibly function prop- erly as a juror. His reason: because I was a litera- ture professor and worked entirely with fantasies, I was incapable of processing the factual evi- dence on which final decisions in legal matters must be based. (He patiently took the time to in- form me about that which he assumed I was un- aware: that court cases depend on evaluating hard facts, not soft fictions.) Another existential moment that caught me offguard took place in yet another closely con- fined space (the backseat of a taxi). As the newly elected president of a national scholarly orga- nization, I was told (told off) by a well-known scholar trained as a dedicated empiricist that I, as a literature professor, represented the particu- lar tradition that was responsible for the murder of six million Jews: "You people only believe in fantasies, and fantasies gave Nazis the power to carry out the work of the Holocaust." The judge chose only to censor me individ- ually for practicing an occupation blind to real- ity. The scholar elected to condemn an entire professional discipline in my name for its mind- less advocacy of untruths that led to the horribly true destruction of an entire generation. Is this, indeed, where we are? Such encounters can shake teachers, schol- ars, and critics toiling in the fields of languages and literatures loose from the comfort of feeling at some peace with the tasks we perform day by day. Such existential moments (in elevators, jury boxes, and taxicabs) have the power to raise doubts about who and what we are. They also have a way of breaking into the monotony of ac- tivities that are more literal in their practice than profound in their commitment. How one re- sponds to such moments is, however, an individ- ual matter. No single call voiced during an MLA Presidential Address, no one item printed in the MLA Newsletter, no set of debates mounted at the Delegate Assembly, and no particular view ad- vanced in a PMLA Editor’s Column will resolve the unsettling circumstances that elicit existen- tial moments, which, by their nature, only take possession of our minds and wills, one by one. Recognition of where the “where” resides remains a private discovery, though one liable to have public consequences. There is an oft-told bit of apocrypha (but one so apt it carries its own truth) about the verbal exchange between Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson after Thoreau was incarcerated for refusing to pay taxes to Massachusetts because it had recently sanctioned the capture and return of runaway slaves. Emerson supposedly queried Thoreau, “Henry, why are you there?” “Why are you not here?” Thoreau flung back in his customarily untactful manner.1 In Thoreau’s view, Emerson’s here was situated midst the corrupt convention- ality of a smugly law-abiding society. Thoreau's here was Concord’s jail, the moral space he elected to occupy to express in real terms his ab- horrence for America’s slave system. Sooner or later, we all need to choose our own “good jails” if we hope to have workable answers to the almost impossible questions of where we situate ourselves. For those of us who lead the academic life, our best jails will proba- bly be the spaces we daily claim, in our own manner, in the classroom, the study, and arenas of community activity. Also consider that PMLA and its parent organization, the Modern Lan- guage Association, strive to offer additional metaphoric spaces for experiencing existential moments and responding to the practical conse- quences these moments call into play. In the March issue of PMLA, Charles S. Adams’s Guest Column describes the real small world inhabited by teacher-scholars in the nation’s many liberal arts colleges. Writers of other Guest Columns in the recent past have also reported on the special spaces they occupy and the practices that follow from these facts. Linda Hutcheon has traced the scholarly geogra- phies Canadian academicians must traverse (114 11999]: 311-17), and Nellie Y. McKay has ana- lyzed the implications of being in “the Wheatley court” for all scholars of African American liter- ature (113 [19981: 359-69). In 1998. the special Forum on PMLA Abroad published communi- ques from members who teach in universities around the world (113 [ 1998]: 1122-50). while the 1999 special Forum on Literatures of the En- vironment addressed the problematics of writ- ing responsibly about the immense entirety of the natural world, that “where” where we all exist, like it or not (114 11999]: 1089-104). Ap- pearing in this issue are the first in PMLA's new series of commentaries, filled with a wide range of spaces, moments, and consequences. These inaugural contributions take us inside the back rooms where arguments over the film studies curriculum and the tight little island of academic book publishing are under way and into the are- nas where debates are taking place over the “where is it going?" of French theory and the “what are they?” of premodern sexualities. I close with a rapid look at the doings last December in Chicago at the annual MLA con- vention. As usual, the elevators are crowded, the lobbies jammed, the barstools occupied, and the session rooms either filled to overflowing or sparsely occupied (each panel its own special world of professional tensions and delights). Sea- soned conventioneers sense it is wise not to think too hard about what is going on upstairs in the rooms where job interviews are being held or downstairs in the large communal areas where other interviews are taking place nakedly in pub- lic view. But whatever precautions the cautious take, the four days of the convention will ball together into one massive existential moment. Lobby, elevator, corridor, room, and meeting place are metaphoric spaces in which persons whose tenure-track positions define for them their “where” are invisibly separated from others who feel, as yet, nowhere in the professional world. Still, there is excitement in the atmosphere and benefits to be gained for those willing to open themselves up to the abrupt experience of the ex- istential question that can come at any moment. Ralph Waldo Emerson had his own jails to deal with. It was often troubled spaces he wished to escape, not the good spaces his acer- bic friend Thoreau fought hard to inhabit. In “Self-Reliance,” Emerson offers a little parable of the person who flees to faraway places in hopes of eluding the unresolved tensions of ex- istence back home: Travelling is a fool’s paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home 1 dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea. and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern Fact, the sad self, unre- lenting, identical, that I fled from. (145) Whether we fly off to distant cities for the annual conventions with sad or happy hearts or remain at home in the study or the classroom, the moment will surely come when a voice calls out from over our shoulder, “Where are you?” The answers to that question are our own to de- vise, but there are positive ways to deal with the practical consequences of our professional exis- tence. PMLA will continue to try to offer the best of all possible “jails,” from whose site we are free to retort, “Why are you not here?” Martha Banta Note 1 The version cited here comes from Henry Seidel Can- by’s biography, Thoreau (233). Walter Harding's The Days of Henry Thoreau reports that Emerson asked Thoreau why he had gone to jail, and Thoreau replied, “Why did you not?" (205-06). Harding takes as his source John Weiss’s 1865 es- say on Thoreau. In the January 1919 issue of the Liberator, Floyd Dell stated that the magazine was addressed “to two classes of readers: those who are in jail and those who are not" (14). Works Cited Canby, Henry Seidel. Thoreau. Boston: Beacon, 1939. Dell, Floyd. “‘What Are You Doing Out There?’" Liberator Jan. 1919: 14-15. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Self-Reliance.” Ralph Waldo Em- erson. Ed. Richard Poirier. New York: Oxford UP, 1990. 131-51. Harding, Walter. The Days of Henry Thoreau. 1962. New York: Dover, 1982. Weiss, John. “Thoreau.” Christian Examiner July 1865: 96-117. 
work_3pbb7j7mkrbgvpgmz5pzyw4eo4	----	JASN2011111048 1..2 OBITUARY www.jasn.org In Memoriam: Charles Bernard Carpenter Richard J. Glassock,* Edgar Milford,† Mohamed H. Sayegh,‡§ Terry Strom,| and Nicholas Tilney¶ *Department of Medicine, Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, Los Angeles, California; Departments of †Medicine and ¶Surgery, Brigham and Women's Hospital, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts; ‡Department of Medicine, American University of Beirut, Beirut, Lebanon; §Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts; and |Department of Medicine, Beth Israel-Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012. doi: 10.1681/ASN.2011111048 Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. Ralph Waldo Emerson An authentic pioneer must be visionary, courageous, resilient, patient, and persistent. All of these noble qualities were embodied in the persona of Charles Bernard (“Bernie”) Carpenter, a true pathfinder in the field of transplantation and nephrology, who passed into the pages of history at age 78 after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. Only a very few individuals have been dually responsible for the founding of a medical discipline and for contributing so munificently to its growth and maturation. Bernie was born in Melrose, Massachusetts, in 1933, and remained a New Englander by nature and temperament. He possessed an inexhaustible curiosity, a calm and caring demeanor, and a dedication to the high ideals of scholarship, family, and friendship. After graduating from Dartmouth College (summa cum laude) and Dartmouth Medical School, he received his MD from Harvard Medical School in 1958. After a short sojourn at Cornell University Medical College and the Bellevue Hospital in New York for training in internal medicine, he served 2 years in the US Naval Medical Corps in Japan and then returned to Boston and the Peter Bent Brig- ham Hospital and Harvard Medical School in 1962, where he remained almost a half-century for his illustrious and highly productive career. At Harvard, he rose to full professor after 18 years, serving along the way as an investigator of the Howard Hughes Medical Institute from 1973 to 1980. Al- though he was director of the Tissue Typing and Immunogenet- ics Laboratories ofthe Brigham andWomen’s Hospital for nearly 3 decades, these titles and accomplishments are pale reflections of his iconic status in our field. Bernie, almost single-handedly, created the discipline of transplant medicine. In the heady, early days of organ trans- plantationusingazathioprineandglucocorticoids,andunderthe guidanceofJohnMerrillandJosephMurray,bothseminalfigures inthefieldofhumanorgantransplantation,hebecamethe main physician providing ongoing care for the first successful kidney transplants performed with immunosuppression in the dramatic period of 1962 to 1963—rightly called the dawn of organ allo-transplantation modified by drugs. Bernie excelled in the provision of compassionate care at a time when the out- come ofthekidney transplantationwas not as wellunderstood as it is now. The small initial brotherhood of patients with success- ful kidney grafts idolized him for his cool confidence radiating a much appreciated reassurance for their uncertain lives. He quickly expanded his horizons beyond the limits of the bedside tothelaboratory,where healsobegina life-long questto uncover Charles Bernard Carpenter Published online ahead of print. Publication date available at www.jasn.org. Correspondence: Dr. Richard J. Glassock, 8 Bethany, Laguna Niguel, CA 92677. Email: Glassock@cox.net Copyright © 2012 by the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012 ISSN : 1046-6673/2301-1 1 U P F R O N T M A T T E R S the secrets of allograft acceptance. It was this conjunction of clinical and laboratory science that brought Bernie to posterity’s pinnacle. He also became the mentor for a phenomenal succession of supremely talented and gifted individuals, whose own con- tributions firmly advanced the discipline of transplant med- icine. His disciples recall the easy spirit of cooperation and openness, the quiet acceptance of young investigators strug- gling with unfamiliar technology and the growing intricacies of transplantation immunology, and most of all, the overriding sense of integrity, honesty, openness, and critical exposition that he brought to all endeavors. Bernie became known as the “big man who made all feel bigger” when they were under his spell. Trainees and young faculty flocked to Bernie and the laboratories of the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in large numbers (over 60) knowing that their careers as clinicians and scientists in the newly min- ted field of transplantation immunology, immunogenetics, and clinical transplantation would be would be nurtured by an inspirational mentor of unmatched intellect, balanced by wit and wisdom and a willingness to listen. Their decisions to come under this guidance were rewarded by success and rec- ognition in their own right. Bernie’s light burnt even more brightly on account of his unqualified dedication to his intel- lectual offspring. By the end of his active career, Bernie had trained a great majority of the new leaders of transplantation medicine in the United States and in many foreign countries. Together with his colleagues and trainees, he published over 380 scientific papers or about one per month over a span of 40 years. It is difficult to select key contributions from such a diverse and prodigious record of clinical and basic investiga- tion; he made major contributions to the immunogenetics of transplantation and tissue typing, indirect allo-recognition, oral tolerance, mechanisms of allograft rejection, immuno- suppression (chemical and biologic), complement metabolism in disease, and many others. Bernie and the talented group of co-investigators that surrounded him touched virtually every critical issueinhuman and experimentaltissue transplantation. Naturally, such an exceptional career would bring many accolades and awards. He was elected to the American Society for Clinical Investigation and to the Association of American Physicians,andservedasthepresidentoftheAmericanSocietyof Transplant Physicians (now the American Society of Trans- plantation). Bernie, along with Ronald Guttmann, Lawrence Hunsicker, and Terry Strom, helped found this major society representing the nascent field of transplantation medicine. He received the prestigious John P. Peters Award from the American Society of Nephrology and the David Hume Award fromtheNationalKidneyFoundation.Hiscolleaguesandfriends throughout the world endowed a Carpenter Transplantation Fellowship at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital on the occasion of his retirement from active academic life. He retired officially in 2005 but the ties to Boston were so strong he did not move to his postacademic hamlet in New Hampshire until 2007. Despite all of these achievements, Bernie remained the humble and generous humanist that endeared him to all that were fortunate to know or work with him. He sought no limelight and commanded no audience. He was content to follow his instincts, to persist in his curiosity, and to guide others through the tedium and disappointments that can crop up in a research career. His ability to succeed in all of these tasks can be attributed in large part his devotion to family and the support he received from his loving wife, Sandra, and to the joy they experienced in witnessing the growth and successes of their sons, Brad and Scott, and their four grandchildren, Michaela, Emma, Andres, and Annette. Add to this the wonderful ambience of New England and the warmth of their home in Weston, summers at a cottage on Angle Pond in New Hampshire and later a new home at Bar Harbor in Maine, the numerous informal gatherings with a large coterie of close friends, and their travels to many countries as an ambassador of transplantation science, and one can appreciate the richness of Bernie’s and Sandra’s life together. His last years, like his entire illustrious career, were devoted to the pursuit of new knowledge, as he became a volunteer for a large clinical trial in Alzheimer’s disease at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital. Bernie’s career over time is testimony to the truth of the observations of Socrates and Emerson that the examined life is the one worth living. Instinct, intuition, imagination, and re- flection guided Bernie during his long and productive career, a career epitomized by a passion to understand the unknown. No biologic mystery intimidated his inquisitiveness. His aequinimitas as a teacher brought out the best in his students. His legacy survives in the knowledge he advanced and in the accomplishments of his academic progeny. He will be sorely missed but not forgotten. All that is beautiful drifts away, like the waters. William Butler Yeats DISCLOSURES None. 2 Journal of the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012 OBITUARY www.jasn.org 
work_3r2i745t7bd4tfx757vin54eju	----	Pittsburgh at Yellowstone: Old Faithful and the Pulse of Industrial America Pittsburgh at Yellowstone: Old Faithful and the Pulse of Industrial America Cecelia Tichi Yellowstone National Park became a tourist "Wonderland" only after the 1870s, when a mix of writers, photographers, illus- trators, publishers, and corporations, notably the Northern Pa- cific Railroad, repositioned its public identity from hell-on-earth to "a big wholesome wilderness" (Muir, Our National Parks 37). A significant part of that shift to a new geophysical identity in- volved figuration of the human body, a centuries-long practice in geographic description continued in nineteenth-century Ameri- can public discourse that invoked the body-geography analogy. In Natural History of Intellect (1893), Ralph Waldo Emerson, echoing Scripture, urged geographical exploration because "[n]a- ture ... is bone of our bone, flesh of our flesh, made of us" (165). Other writers exploited bodily terms to describe topographical features and geopolitical entities in the US. Henry David Tho- reau had opened his Cape Cod (1865) with an extended trope of Massachusetts as an anatomically configured pugilist ("Cape Cod is the bared and bended arm of Massachusetts" [851]), while in Life on the Mississippi (1883), Mark Twain observed that the river "is always changing its habitat bodily-is always moving bodily sidewise" (40-41). In the latter decades of the century, as Yellowstone and its geyser region became identified as an Ameri- can "Wonderland," texts supporting the newer identity partici- pated in the kinds of figuration proliferating in contemporary essays and narrative. In part, the bodily terms in texts on Yellowstone operated as a familiarizing stratagem whereby the distant alien land of rocky mountain ranges, erupting geysers, mud volcanoes, boiling springs, and the like became more conceptually accessible. But attention to the role of figuration of the human body in texts on Yellowstone from the 1870s to the 1920s reveals, in addition, the "double discourse of the natural and the technological" (Seltzer 152). This discourse, especially focused on the geyser, Old Faith- ful, produced an icon of industrial America. To recognize this is American Literary History 523 also to see the basis on which the geyser area became a text on the sociocultural disjunctions of the new industrial order. Prior to a series of explorations beginning in 1869, the Yel- lowstone area was known as "Colter's Hell," a tall-tale scene of "burning plains, immense lakes, and boiling springs" (William F. Raynolds, qtd. in Kinsey 45) encountered at first-hand by a few white trappers, hunters, and mountaineers dating back to John Colter's foray in the area in 1807-08, when he split off from the Lewis and Clark expedition and ventured into Yellowstone (Kin- sey 45-46). Colter was not alone, for another of the first white male explorers of the region, James Bridger, had called it "a place where hell bubbles up" ("Yellowstone Park" 248). Such descriptions fit earlier nineteenth-century fables of the far West as "scenes of barronness and desolation," of "the most dismal country" riddled with man-eating grizzlies, of "dismal and horrible mountains," of the "desert," of endless plains "on which not a speck of vegetable matter existed" (Lawson-Peebles 224-25). In order for the Yellowstone area to become credible as a national park and tourist "Wonderland," as it was called by the Helena Daily Herald in 1872, it was necessary that it be assigned a new public identity. This was achieved, as we shall see, in part by bodily figura- tion appearing both in travel and expeditionary texts. But the whole process of Yellowstone's reidentification has been docu- mented as a part of the larger post-Civil War project by which the trans-Mississippi West, theretofore understood to be the Great American Desert, now became a pathway to the "Edenic civilization that would occur as Americans entered the region, settled there, exploited its natural resources, and made the West over in their desired image" (Hales 47). In the case of Yel- lowstone, "Wonderland" replaced the inferno in expeditionary reports by Nathaniel P. Langford (1871) and especially Ferdi- nand V. Hayden (1872), who extolled the beauty and "magnifi- cent features" of the area (qtd. in Kinsey 83). These were aug- mented by guidebooks describing Yellowstone's majesty, beauty, enchantment, and by travel writing in the following decades in such middle-class magazines as Harper's, Scribners, National Geographic, and Atlantic Monthly, whose essays recounted per- sonally inspiring visits and beckoned readers to visit the park for health, adventure, and edification. Throughout one finds a rhetorical strategy using bodily figures to emphasize maternal succor and masculine guardianship. Yellowstone's new identity was also achieved by visual me- dia, such as the Hayden party's expeditionary photographs of William Henry Jackson. These showed male, shaftlike rock for- 524 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone mations and female valleys, along with canyons and waterfalls that, in compositional terms, "continued the Romantic land- scape tradition" (Hales 50). Alan Trachtenberg, discussing the work of Timothy O'Sullivan, another post-Civil War photogra- pher of the West, remarks that such photographs belong to the tradition of landscape art, with landscape referring to a particu- lar genre of academic painting (128). But painting also played a major role in establishing the new identity of Yellowstone. The painter Thomas Moran, also with the Hayden group, sketched scenes that provided illustra- tions for essays in Scribner's on "The Wonders of Yellowstone" and for James Richardson's Wonders of the Yellowstone (1872). Probably more importantly, Moran became nationally known for his huge (7 by 12 feet) oil painting The Grand Canon of the Yel- lowstone (1872), which was publicly exhibited in the US Capitol and instrumental in the creation of the park by an act of Con- gress signed into law by President Ulysses S. Grant in March 1871 and setting the region aside as "a great national park or pleasure ground for the benefit and enjoyment of the people" (qtd. in Sears 162; see Sears 158-63). In the painting, as in a series of his watercolors, Moran's compositonal exploitation of arches, towers, rocks, and trees, together with his adaptation of the aesthetic principles of John Ruskin and the painterly tech- niques of Joseph Mallord William Turner in capturing atmo- spheric effects and color, largely enabled Moran to translate Yel- lowstone as a landscape of the American sublime, a response codified earlier in the century in relation to America's first icon of nature, Niagara Falls (Kinsey 20-40; McKinsey 30-36, 99). In Moran's painting shafts of rock and tree trunks frame a wide, deep valley from which a central shaft of white mist rises sky- ward. In bodily terms, one recalls Perry Miller's statement on late-nineteenth-century representations of steam as "the pure white jet that fecundates America," inseminating the "body of the continent" (qtd. in Seltzer 27). Business, too, was centrally involved in the transformation of Yellowstone from "a place where hell bubbles up" to the new "Wonderland." Scribner's evidently funded the exhibition of Moran's huge canvas in Clinton Hall on New York's Astor Place, just as it published numerous essays on the Yellowstone area il- lustrated by Moran, including John Muir's. In addition, execu- tives and financiers of the Northern Pacific Railroad understood the advantages of a sublime, enticing Yellowstone for generating income from passengers, freight, and stockholders (Kinsey 64). Subliminally, at least, that shaft of steamy white mist central to Moran's The Grand Canon of the Yellowstone looked enough like 526 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone nineteenth-century texts also codify Yellowstone National Park as a sentient being expressive of feelings. The "mood" of Yel- lowstone Lake, for instance, "is ever changing." It "laughs" and then turns "angry" ("Washburn" 490). Muir, naturalist and leading proponent of the national park system, feminizes the park in terms of "Mother Earth" (Our Na- tional Parks 50) but moves anatomically inside the body when he says park visitors are "getting in touch with the nerves of Mother Earth" ("Wild Parks" 16). Muir's image is significant for its ana- tomical internalization, a direction that various writers followed. In 1893, in The Significance of the Frontier, Frederick Jackson Turner remarked that "civilization in America has followed the arteries made by geology ... like the steady growth of a complex nervous system for the originally simple, inert continent" (14- 15). F. W. Hayden explicitly linked the railroad's utilitarian rela- tion to this geological arterial system: "[T]he multitude of rivers that wind like arteries through the country ... excavate the ave- nues for our railroads" (qtd. in Hales 69). This textual mapping of the area in terms of internal organ systems is significant because it enables the production of certain social meanings that devolve from the traits of those organs, in- cluding arterial blood flow and cardiac pulse. The arterial rivers conjoin, in cardiovascular terms, with the heart, and, not surpris- ingly, the 5 April 1873 Harpers Weekly Magazine included an article entitled "The Heart of the Continent: The Hot Springs and Geysers of the Yellow Stone Region" (273-74). The heart-as-center was, of course, a centuries-old conven- tion but gained a certain agency from the dictum of Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose American scholar is not only "the world's eye" but "the world's heart" ("American Scholar" 73). Cardiac vitality is correlatively located at the center of the Emersonian universe: "[T]he heart at the centre of the universe with every throb hurls the flood of happiness into every artery, vein and veinlet, so that the whole system is inundated with the tides of joy" (Society 306- 07). In his essay, "The Yellowstone National Park," Muir, a self- proclaimed student and admirer of Emerson, asserted, "The shocks and outbursts of earthquakes, volcanoes, geysers, storms, the pounding of waves, the uprush of sap in plants, each and all tell the orderly love-beats of Nature's heart" (Our National Parks 70). The health of that heart was measured in a pulse manifest by Old Faithful geyser. In his essay on Yellowstone, Muir de- scribes "a hundred geysers," (54) though Old Faithful was, and is to this day, preeminent. Named by Nathaniel P. Langford and Gustavus C. Doane, who had written of the Yellowstone area American Literary History 527 prior to congressional action, Old Faithful is repeatedly singled out as exemplary. It is the "most instructive" geyser, wrote Hayden in 1872: "When it is about to make a display, very little preliminary warn- ing is given. There is simply a rush of steam for a moment, and then a column of water shoots up vertically into the air, and by a succession of impulses is apparently held steadily up for the space of fifteen minutes" ("Hot Springs" 175). In 1878, Joseph Le Conte identified the trait-punctual regularity-for which Old Faithful is best known. "'Old Faithful,' he wrote, "[is] so called from the frequency and regularity of its eruptions, throws up a column six feet in diameter to the height of 100 to 150 feet regularly every hour, and plays each time fifteen minutes" (412; emphasis added). Numerous texts from the 1870s cite the un- varying regularity of Old Faithful, always in terms of approval and admiration: It is "the only reliable geyser in the park. You can always bet on seeing him every sixty-five minutes" (Francis 34); there has been no "appreciable difference in its eruptions ... for over thirty years.... It always displays the same graceful, slender column" (Hague, "The Yellowstone" 523); it is "the gey- ser of the park" (Weed, "Geysers" 294); Old Faithful sets "a no- ble example to his followers" and is as punctual as "a tall, old- fashioned clock" (Rollins 886); it is a "perfect" geyser (Hague, "The Yellowstone" 517); "a model geyser" (Henderson 164); "Old Faithful is a friend to every tourist.... With the regularity of a clock, he pours out his soul toward heaven every sixty mi- nutes and then sinks back to regain new strength" (King 597). The very name-Old Faithful-connotes the cherished, fa- miliar, and dear. The geyser becomes an object of affection be- cause of its very predictability, its punctuality. The hotel beside it would be named the Old Faithful Inn, as if hospitality itself were linked to the geyser, as if it performed intentionally for the visitors who had endured the inconvenience of travel in order to experience what John Sears has called the "sacred places," the sacralized tourist sublime associated throughout the century with such sites as Niagara Falls, Kentucky's Mammoth Cave, Yosemite's sequoias. More than one writer said the road traveled to the geysers was "dull, dusty, glaring, and disappointing" (Rol- lins 872), but if Old Faithful failed to meet expectations, no one but Rudyard Kipling said so in print. This cherished, sacred Old Faithful is clearly central to Emerson's and Muir's idea of the organic, benevolent heart of the natural world. Yet texts from the 1870s to the 1920s indicate that the socio- cultural definition of Old Faithful changed radically from the version embraced by Emerson and Muir. Pulse itself becomes a 528 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone crucial term in this change. Numerous commentators character- ized geyser eruptions as pulsations. "The geyser," said one writer in 1890, "is a pool of limpid, green water whose surface rises and falls in rhythmic pulsations.... [A]t every pulsation, thick white clouds of steam came rolling out" (Weed, "Geysers" 291). A group in 1882 observed "nine successive pulsations" of the Grand (Francis 35). Many of the "springs ... rise and fall every second or two . . . with each pulsation, [by] ... steady im- pulses, . . . regular pulsations" ("Washburn" 437; Hayden, "Hot Springs" 163, 174). The pulse in these statements reverts to the arterial pulse, which in medical history is both mechanistic and organic. Texts such as Muir's ally the geysers' rhythms with those of waterfalls, storms, and avalanches, and thus position them with the rhythms of nature (Our National Parks 54). The many references to the steady, regular, clocklike pulsations and eruptions like those above derive from a mechanistic model. With regard to Old Faithful, the relation of the organic to the mechanic is neither a binary division nor an antithesis but a conjunction. The geyser operates as nature's own clockworks. The regularity of Old Faithful's pulse had a crucial connec- tion to the medical history that linked the body to the clock. Since the early eighteenth century the arterial pulse had been measured by the clock, when Sir John Floyer published The Phy- sicians Pulse Watch (1707), an account of his invention of a me- chanical watch with a second hand subsequently standard in time pieces. The sixty-second minute thus became the standard for pulse measurement. Floyer measured patients with "ex- ceeding and deficient pulses" (qtd. in Clendening 12), and these he worked to reregulate. Those that beat too fast or too slowly, according to the measurement of the pulse watch, were treated with medical regimens involving heat and cold. Life consists, Floyer theorized, "in the Circulation of blood, and that running too fast or slow, produces most of our Diseases" (qtd. in Clen- dening 573-74). The healthy body was that whose pulse throbbed in synchrony with the measurement of the pulse watch. By the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, medi- cal experts agreed that "changes of the pulse are important" (Barwell 89) and recognized a normative range of healthy pulsa- tions even as they named irregularities or arrhythmias, separated the arterial from the venal and hepatic pulses, and devised new instruments for measurement such as the sphygmograph, which showed the pulse is a series of curves (Osler, Principles 650-651). As one specialist wrote in 1902, "The rate of the pulse is the most simple of all signs" and "variations in rhythm are usually readily American Literary History 529 recognized," though "the timing of the various events in a car- diac revolution ... can only be acquired by careful practice ... with the radial pulse as a standard" (Mackenzie 6, viii). Old Faithful, as we have seen, was celebrated for its hourly pulse measured radially. It met the standard of the sixty-second minute encapsulated within the sixty-minute hour. Its health was proven by its very regularity over decades. Yet the pulse regularity of Old Faithful involved more than the apparent synchrony of nature with human horology. Muir tries to adhere to the organic model of the Emersonian "heart at the centre of the universe with every throb hurl[ing] the flood of happiness into every artery, vein and veinlet," but other writers, even Muir himself, were responding to a new model of the body as machine. In fact, the repositioning of Yellowstone as the US "Wonderland" included the technologizing of the body and of the material environment. For the post-Civil War decades not only redefined the American West but witnessed the transforma- tion of the Northeast and Midwest into industrial centers. This process, too, is important to the specific ways in which bodily identity produced Old Faithful as an icon of industrial America. The industrializing American scene is acknowledged in Muir's "Yellowstone National Park," despite the preponderance of pastoral and domestic terms, as though Yellowstone were a designed park, like Frederick Law Olmstead's Central Park or Boston's Fenway or Philadelphia's Fairmount parks. Muir's terms are organic; the very mineral formations are turned into flowers (47, 38). Abruptly, however, Muir invokes a radically different environment as he describes the geyser basin. It is as if "a fierce furnace fire were burning beneath each" geyser, "hiss- ing, throbbing, booming," writes Muir. "Looking down over the forests as you approach [the geysers]," he adds, "you see a multi- tude of white columns, broad reeking masses, and irregular jets and puffs of misty vapor ... entangled like smoke, ... suggesting the factories of some busy town" (Our National Parks 43). The factories of some busy town-so the "fierce furnace," the noises of hissing, throbbing, and booming after all recall the industrial landscape thousands of miles east of Yellowstone, which, ironically, is the very landscape preserved in its natural splendor from the encroachment of industrialism. The sub- lime Yellowstone of William Henry Jackson's photographs, of Thomas Moran's huge painting, of the railroad guidebooks and flyers, for that matter of Muir's own crafting, suddenly is chal- lenged by an apparently incongruous, even antithetical, overt im- age of industrial America. Comparing the geyser area to "the factories of some busy In fact, the repositioning of Yellowstone as the US "Wonderland" included the technologizing of the body and of the material environment. 530 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone town," Muir's diction collapses the boundaries between the two worlds of nature's "Wonderland" and technological industrial- ism. The writer whose name had become synonymous with natu- ralism and conservation, with appreciation of wilderness qua wil- derness, who speaks of mineral formations as bouquets of flowers, who writes that the geyser visitors "look on, awe-stricken and silent, in devout, worshipful wonder" seems inadvertently to reveal a major disjunction in consciousness (Our National Parks 53, 54). The geysers look like a factory, and the most visited site in Yellowstone National Park turns out to be Pittsburgh. Others, in fact, explicitly named the city identified with steel and coke magnates Andrew Carnegie and Henry Clay Frick in their descriptions of Old Faithful. The "rising smoke and vapor" reminded one writer "of the city of Pittsburgh" (Koch 503), and another observed that "a view of the city of Pittsburg [sic] from a high point would convey some idea of the appearance of this valley [of geysers and hot springs], except that in the former case the dense black smoke arises in hundreds of columns, instead of the pure white feathery clouds of steam" (Hayden, "Hot Springs" 173). In 1880 S. Wier Mitchell, the physician known for his immobilizing "rest cure" for disordered women, described the area of "mud volcanoes" as comparable to "the exhaust of a steam-engine, and near it from the earth come the rattle and crash and buzz and whirring of a cotton-mill" (701). Signifi- cantly, it was another nature writer, John Burroughs, who com- pared the geyser area to an industrial site when he wrote in 1907 that "as one nears the geyser region, he gets the impression from the columns of steam ... that he is approaching an industrial centre" (63). In part, such comments are utilitarian, measuring waste- fulness against a norm of efficient usage. The geysers emit steam "in extravagant ... prodigality ... Steam enough is wasted here to run all the Western railways" ("Editor's Study" 320). A writer in The Nation observed that enough geyser water shot into the air "to run all the factories of Pennsylvania for a week" ("Yel- lowstone" 249). Burroughs "disliked to see so much good steam and hot water going to waste" because "whole towns might be warmed by them, and big wheels made to go round" (64). Technological analogies providing easily accessible lessons to the reading public also show the extent of middle-class famil- iarity with mechanistic thinking, as when a geologist in 1898 ex- plained that some geysers "have been formed by explosion, like the bursting of a boiler" (Tarr 1575), or when steam vents are said to "keep up a constant pulsating noise like a high-pressure engine on a river steamboat" (Hayden, "Hot Springs" 164), or American Literary History 531 when geysers are termed "natural steam-engines" (Weed, "Gey- sers" 299), their vapor likened to "the smoke of the ... locomo- tive" (Rollins 883). Whether used as a utilitarian measure of usage or waste- fulness, or as a term of explanation or description, however, these references to machine technology, heavy industry, and the indus- trial city provide a context in which the bodily identity of Old Faithful becomes clearer. Though Muir grouped geophysical eruptions, wind-and-wave hydraulics, and botanical cycles as the percussive "orderly love-beats of Nature's heart," the industrial context produced a different cardiac model. The clockwork regu- larity of Old Faithful's pulse, when set within the context of an industrializing America, defines the geyser as an industrial-age bodily icon. The eminent physician William Osler wrote that a man must realize "that he is a machine" (William Oslers Col- lected Papers 5), and the American geophysical expression of that machine body becomes Old Faithful geyser. Old Faithful in this sense is a synecdoche of the valorized body of the industrial era-a body understood as a machine whose pulse must be regular as clockwork. It is male, in that the realm of heavy industry was gendered masculine (despite the female operatives in textile mills), and its eruptions encompass the ejaculative in the arterial. Indeed, Muir emphasizes that gey- sers sometimes erupt for periods of nearly one hour, "standing rigid and erect," "seeming so firm and substantial and perma- nent" (Our National Parks 42, 54). Such expression of male virility is fully consonant with the new industrial ethos of the later nineteenth century, and Old Faithful thus exemplified the ideals of an industrial society orga- nized for maximal rationalized production. Like the railroads and well-run industrial plants, Old Faithful produced on sched- ule. True, its eruptions varied by a few minutes, but the concept of hourly regularity was intact, as the numerous tributes to the geyser as reliable, punctual, regular as a clock all indicate. Old Faithful reassuringly enacted the unvarying, relentless rhythms of an industrial system and thus seemed to be the "American incarnation," in Myra Jehlen's terms, of the capitalistic social or- der of industrial, technological production. Its pulse could be measured by the clock; its very arterial rhythm seemed to be na- ture's own precocious foreordination of the American modernity manifest in the industrial system. "Nature's nation" thus was validated by nature's own indus- trial pulse. The very geophysical heart of America beat the rhythms of mechanization. Those seeing the geyser basin as a version of Pittsburgh or a similar "industrial centre" thus could 532 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone appreciate Old Faithful as the paradigmatic pulse of that very system. Presumably, those responding with approbation also felt their interests well served by the new industrial order. Repre- sented by those who gathered in May 1872 to view Moran's Yel- lowstone painting, these were, as one railroad executive de- scribed them, "the press-the literati- ... the rich people" (qtd. in Kinsey 73). Evidently, however, the geyser basin of Yellowstone also aroused anxieties pertinent to the industrial system and thereby to its bodily identity. No other geyser approached Old Faithful in regularity of pulse. Its punctuality was offset by other geysers' "capricious[ness]" (Francis 34) and "misbehavior" (Weed, "Gey- sers" 294), and some of the geyser names suggest the anxiety evoked by their very irregularity and turbulence: Hurricane, Restless, Spasmodic, Spiteful, Impulsive, Fitful, Spasm. Against Old Faithful, the very unpredictability of other geysers needs to be engaged, not solely in geophysical terms but, as with Old Faithful, in those of sociocultural issues in late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century America. For Yellowstone's old identity as hell-on-earth was not quite effaced or even entirely repressed despite the vigorous efforts of its post-1870 spokespersons. The continuation of the infernal identity, however, has less to do with an inadequate cam- paign on behalf of the new Yellowstone "Wonderland" than it does with certain contemporary representations of industrial America. Ironically, just at the point when the cohort of photog- raphers, painters, railroad executives, publishers, et cetera col- laborated to identify Yellowstone as America's "Wonderland," public discourse in the US was fashioning an infernal identity for industrial America. While the West was newly configured in edenic terms, the industrial Northeast and Midwest were as- signed Yellowstone's old identity as hell-on-earth. In fact, from the 1860s, fiction writers, journalists, and illus- trators presented the new urban industrial order in terms of the infernal. Woodcuts and lithographs, for instance, in Harper's Weekly Magazine (1 Nov. 1873; 7 July 1888) showed tense labor- ers shoveling coal into beehive coke ovens as flames roil skyward, while other bare-chested workmen tend the fiery furnaces of the iron mill as flames backlight the night sky in a blinding blaze. Writers, too, produced these kinds of infernal images. Rebecca Harding Davis, in Life in the Iron Mills (1861), published in the Atlantic Monthly, described a "city of fires, that burned hot and fiercely in the night. Fire in every horrible form.... caldrons filled with boiling fire. ... It was like a street in Hell" (20); "like Dante's Inferno" (27). Industrial Pittsburgh, just 60 miles north American Literary History 533 of Davis's Wheeling, was characterized in 1883 by a travel writer as "the great furnace of Pandemonium ... the outer edge of the infernal regions" (Glazier 332). Such accounts of industrial, technologically driven Amer- ica corresponded to the characterization of "American Ner- vousness," which, in 1881, George Beard attributed to an ur- banizing American environment of traction railways, industrial machinery, electrification, steam engines, factories, the very loco- motive rods and pistons moving the passenger cars of the North- ern Pacific, the Burlington Route, and the Oregon Short Line that brought visitors to Yellowstone as of the 1880s. While Turner affirmed the westward path of civilization as "the steady growth of a complex nervous system," Beard blamed that same civilization for overtaxing the body's neural system in a world thought to engender a host of diseases, including consumption and neurasthenia, whose etiology was found in cities, industrial plants, and fast-paced temporal pressures. The tourists at Yellowstone came to experience awe at Old Faithful, but evidence indicates that visitors who produced travel texts on their experience at the park did so as inhabitants of an industrial, technological world. This is to say that the texts repre- sentative of their experience show a Yellowstone-especially Old Faithful and the geyser basin-framed in experience largely of industrialism and its conditions of production and labor. As Old Faithful became an icon of industrial America, the erratic sur- rounding geysers, boiling springs, and mud volcanoes were read as a statement on the industrial pulse/body under mortal threat. The geyser area was a rearview-mirror image of the industrializ- ing US. Muir, the active agent in the production of a Yellowstone "Wonderland," worked to allay anxieties about danger there. Ad- dressing a middle-class reading public, he framed his park de- scription in reassurances that "most of the dangers that haunt the unseasoned citizen are imaginary," that "over-civilized people" are subject to "irrational dread," for instance, of rattle- snakes and murderous Indians ("No scalping Indians will you see" [Our National Parks 51]). "Fear nothing," he says, for "no town park you have been accustomed to saunter in is so free from danger as the Yellowstone" (Our National Parks 57-58). Muir then tries to make the old hellish nicknames sound zany and fun, as though anticipating the later-twentieth-century theme park. Names like "Hell Broth Springs," the "Devil's Cal- dron," and "Coulter's Hell" are "so exhilarating that they set our pulses dancing" (Our National Parks 58). Muir sets up a sympa- thetic pulsing of the geothermal and the arterial in the realm of 534 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone rhythmic movement whose beat is emphatically more musical than mechanical. As partners, the visitors and the geysers have a ball. Others, however, did not reproduce Muir's terpsichorean rhetorical strategy. Travelers' accounts through the 1880s to the 1910s continued to enforce a somber linkage between the geyser basin and the inferno. By implication, their descriptions are shadowed by the presumed presence of demonic, monstrous bodies in hell. And their statements show the extent to which industrial-age America did not efface the old Yellowstone iden- tity as "a place where hell bubbles up" but actually renewed it. They described "a seething caldron over a fiery furnace" emitting a "villainous smell" ("Washburn" 434). One of the mud volca- noes bears "testimony to the terrible nature of the convulsion that wrought such destruction" (Langford 354). A writer in Scribners Magazine noted the "weird, uncanny, sulphurous, and at times even dangerous" aspect of the geyser area (Hague 516). Another said, "It seemed as if we were looking upon a panorama of the Inferno" (King 597), and still another remarked that the air was "burden[ed] ... with such sulphurous odors that at times it was rendered almost unfit for respiration" (Owen 193). A mother shepherding her seven children through a Yellowstone vacation in 1905 recalled that "like everybody else, we loved Old Faithful ... feared Excelsior, admired the Giant and Beehive." But, she said, "the horrible rumbling as if an earthquake were imminent and the smell of brimstone made me eager to get my brood into the valley of safety beyond the Yellowstone" (Corthell 1466). Even the scientists reverted to fraught language in descrip- tion of the geyser: the Excelsior is "a violently boiling cauldron[;] ... its waters may be seen in violent ebullition" (Jagger 324). Absent Old Faithful, and unable to join in the spirit of Mu- ir's injunction to "fear nothing" and dance, texts from the 1870s, including Muir's, link the geyser basin with the inferno in affirming its volcanic geophysics. In 1896, Arnold Hague of the United States Geological Survey asserted that "all geologists who have visited [Yellowstone] concur that the 'great body' of rock and mineral is 'volcanic,"' (Hague, "Age of Igneous Rocks" 447). Two years later, a geologist graphically described the pro- cess: "Volcanoes developed throughout the entire Rockies.... Great masses of lava were intruded into the rocks.... Beds of volcanic ash testify to violent explosive volcanic activity" (Tarr 1407). The novelist Owen Wister's hero, the Virginian, visits the geysers and smells a "volcanaic [sic] whiff" (Sears 169). One writer compared the probable eruptive force of the Yellowstone- area volcanoes with those of the widely publicized recent erup- American Literary History 535 tions of Krakatoa (1883) and of Tarawera, New Zealand (1886) (Weed, "Fossil Forests" 235). US visitors to Yellowstone were not encouraged to consider the likelihood of renewed volcanic activity. (Muir reassured them that "the fire times had passed away, and the volcanic furnaces were banked" [Our National Parks 64]). The "glass road" of vol- canic obsidian over which they rode in wagons and stage coaches to the geysers was considered a wonder, not a threat. Yet images of the inferno indicate anxieties not allayed by reassurances that the fires were extinct. The spewing, hissing eruptions proved otherwise. An 1897 "Editor's Study" column in Harpers cited a "lady" who considered the geyser area of Yel- lowstone as "the safety-valve of the United States": The geysers function as "vent-holes of its internal fires and explosive energies, and but for the relief they afford, the whole country might be shaken with earthquakes and be blown up in fragments" (320). The column's author reported it "not encouraging" (320) to feel the hot crust underfoot and identified the subterranean area as "a terrible furnace" (321). The imagery of safety value and furnace, together with that of the danger, destruction, and chaos of the inferno, also tended to collapse boundaries between Yellowstone and the industrial East and Midwest. Public discourse indicates that apart from the pleasures of Old Faithful, the Yellowstone visitors alighted at the geyser basin only to encounter a geophysical version of the very inferno familiar to them from fictional and journalistic accounts of the material environment of industrial Eastern and upper Midwestern cities of the US. Just as Old Faithful provided reassurance about the health of the industrial order, so the erratic and frightening geyser basin was read as a geophysical text on sociocultural threats to the new industrial order. There is some evidence that such threat was perceived in bodily terms with reference to industrial work- ers occupying "t' Devil's place" (Davis 20), workmen who were "bad" and "desperate" enough to be condemned to hell (Davis 27). The heaving, spewing, violent, and capricious geysers and volcanoes replicated an industrializing scene periodically rife with social turmoil, including strikes and riots devolving from conditions of labor and wages. In this sense, the erratic, arrhyth- mic geysers are a homology of the bodies necessary to keep the industrial world in mechanistic synchrony that instead, at inter- vals, subvert its clockwork rhythms. Such bodies, swarthy, carbon-blacked, and mud-caked-as Davis termed them, "filthy and ash-covered" (24), "coarse and vulgar" (25)-threaten the clockwork pulse of the industrial order. Like erratic geysers, they 536 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone "pulsate in rhythmic beats from the mighty heart of internal chaos" (Townsend 163). In Life in the Iron Mills they are "bois- terous" (Davis 26), but at Yellowstone "infernally angry enough to emit 'sighs, moans, and shrieks"' (Sedgwick 3573). The sulphurous, heaving mud volcanoes, hissing steam vents, and explosive eruptions-the inferno-had a textual fore- ground, moreover, in the dire volcanic social vision recurrent in public discourse in the US from the early nineteenth century and deeply engaged with the social body of nonelites. Political, reli- gious, and educational figures had recurrently exploited volca- noes as a terrifying metaphor for the collapse of social order in the US, as Fred Somkin has shown. Back in 1788 Fisher Ames of Massachusetts warned at a political convention that "a de- mocracy is a volcano, which conceals the fiery materials of its own destruction" (qtd. in Somkin 39). In 1817 the Columbian Orator reprinted Yale president Timothy Dwight's description in the "Conquest of Canaan" of "a fiery Judgment Day marked by quaking, fire-belching mountains" (Somkin 39). The possibility that slavery or some other issue might prompt riotous rupture of the social order led Reverend Ephraim Peabody in 1846 to say that while "all may be smooth and fair on the surface," the "fires of a volcano are moving beneath the thin crust, and ... in a moment they may burst through and lay the labors of centuries in ruins" (7). In 1855 the Reverend Richard Storrs voiced his fear that crime, slavery, vice, and Catholicism threatened the US, which he feared slept "on the crater's edge" as "fiery floods threaten an overflow ... more terrible than was felt by Pompeii or Herculaneum" (21). In a Fourth of July oration of 1842, Hor- ace Mann speculated that the nation "is an active volcano of ignorance and guilt" (29). The eruption of strikes and riots in the later nineteenth and early twentieth centuries also prompted description in volcanic terms. The "political and industrial battles" in Colorado from 1894 to 1904, for instance, led to the publication of a report from the US Commissioner of Labor (1905): "The reading of that re- port leaves one with the impression that present-day society rests upon a volcano, which in favorable periods seems very harmless, but, when certain elemental forces clash, it bursts forth in a man- ner that threatens with destruction civilization itself" (Hunter 303). Statements of this kind produce a volcanic social body cor- relative with the rumored western hell-on-earth at Yellowstone, and thus the nineteenth-century US becomes a continuum of volcanic geopolitics. Possibilities for sociocultural "volcanic" explosion appar- ently intensified with the availability of the new explosives in- American Literary History 537 vented by Alfred B. Nobel in 1866 and developed in the US by the Du Pont Corporation and others. Nobel's work enabled pro- duction of a stable explosive in which nitroglycerine was mixed with an inert filler, such as sawdust, then pressed into paper cylin- ders, and set off with a detonator. Used in construction, mining, and civil engineering, it was lightweight and portable. And like the explosive volcano, dynamite served to express deep anxieties about hidden dangers of social disorder. Anybody in possession of a stick of dynamite became a potential one- person volcano. Josiah Strong's best-selling social critique, Our Country: Its Possible Future and Its Present Crisis (1885) de- scribed as "social dynamite" the "largely foreign" male popula- tion of "roughs[,] . . . lawless and desperate men of all sorts" (132). Strong's "social dynamite" gained credence the following year, when some of the eight anarchists found guilty of detonat- ing the bomb that killed a policeman in Chicago's Haymarket riot spoke in the language of explosive social change. August Spies declared, "[F]rom Jove's head once more HAS SPRUNG A MINERVA-DYNAMITE!" (7). Revolutions, he added, result from certain "causes and conditions," like "earthquakes and cyclones" (8). One may recall the Yellowstone visitor anxious about the earth hot under her feet as Spies's speech warned that laboring wage slaves would rise in revolt: "[E]verywhere, flames will blaze up. It is a subterranean fire. You cannot put it out" (10). Spies's fellow anarchist, Albert P. Parsons, who denied using dynamite to cause the 1886 Haymarket riot, nonetheless declared its effi- cacy as "a democratic instrument" and was quoted by one alarmed author as citing it as a "splendid opportunity ... for some bold fellow to make the capitalists tremble by blowing up [the Chicago Board of Trade] building and all the thieves and robbers that are there" (McLean 33). The texts celebrating a clocklike Old Faithful and deploring the infernal adjoining geysers would seem hostile to the notion of dynamiting buildings or otherwise altering the social order with incendiary devices. Such texts were not produced by those laboring 12 hours daily in dangerous, debilitating, low-paying toil, but by those sufficiently affluent to buy rail and coach seats to the Rockies, to stay at hotels or to camp in the Wylie Com- pany's system of tents (beds and meals with campfires at the rate of five dollars per day), to take leave of a primary residence for weeks at a time. These, not the self-described wage-slave labor- ers with anarchist views, were the visitors poised to applaud Old Faithful. And these were the visitors who shuddered when, unexpect- edly, one or another of the other geysers "burst forth again with- 538 Pittsburgh at Yellowstone out warning, and even greater violence" (Francis 35) who saw eruptions "pulsate in rhythmic beats from the mighty heart of internal chaos." For civil violence had abated but not ceased in the decades following the Civil War, as seen in such events as the deadly Great Railroad Strike of 1877 over the issues of hourly wages, the Haymarket riot of 1886 which started over the eight- hour work day, the New Orleans race riots of 1866, the Home- stead Strike of 1892, the Pullman Strike of 1894, the miners' strike at Coeur d'Alene, Idaho, in 1899, the above-mentioned Colorado strikes and riots from 1894 to 1904-all of which seemed to nativists dangerously explosive. Add to these the ac- tual explosives, from the bomb thrown into Chicago's Haymar- ket to the carload of dynamite detonated by striking miners to blow up the mine concentrator, an area where wastes were ex- tracted from ores, at the Coeur d'Alene mine. It is important to recognize that Yellowstone's visitors- camped with their own "wagons, tents, and provisions," their "coffee pot, frying pan and kettle," and "a buffalo robe to spread on a pile of fir, pine, or hemlock twigs, with blankets for covering, [which] makes a bed which renders that city pest, insomnia, an impossibility" (Logan 160)-looked to Old Faithful to help them keep faith in an industrializing nation that was built, some feared, on incendiary volcanic soil. Given their class position, the American body politic and the mechanistic body of the new industrial order must have seemed tenuous, contingent, and con- tested. 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A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers... Cape Cod. New York: Li- brary of America, 1985. 847-1039. Townsend, Mary Trowbridge. "A Woman's Trout-Fishing in Yel- lowstone Park." Outing May 1897: 163-65. Trachtenberg, Alan. Reading Ameri- can Photographs: Images as History, Mathew Brady to Walker Evans. New York: Hill, 1989. Turner, Frederick Jackson. The Sig- nificance of the Frontier. 1893. Re- printed in The Frontier in American History. New York: Dover. 1-38. Twain, Mark. Life on the Mississippi. 1883. Reprint. New York: Penguin, 1984. "The Washburn Yellowstone Expedi- tion, Nos. 1 and 2" Overland Monthly May 1871: 431-37; June 1871: 489-96. Weed, Walter. "Fossil Forests of the Yellowstone." School of Mines Quar- terly 13.3 (1892): 230-36. . "Geysers." School of Mines Quarterly 11.4 (1890): 289-306. "Yellowstone Park as a Summer Re- sort." Nation 27 Sept. 1900: 248-50. Article Contents p. [522] p. 523 p. 524 p. 525 p. 526 p. 527 p. 528 p. 529 p. 530 p. 531 p. 532 p. 533 p. 534 p. 535 p. 536 p. 537 p. 538 p. 539 p. 540 p. 541 Issue Table of Contents American Literary History, Vol. 9, No. 3 (Autumn, 1997), pp. 381-624 Front Matter American Cultural Iconography: Vision, History, and the Real [pp. 381 - 395] "Are We Men?": Prince Hall, Martin Delany, and the Masculine Ideal in Black Freemasonry, 1775-1865 [pp. 396 - 424] Melville, Garibaldi, and the Medusa of Revolution [pp. 425 - 459] Seeing and Believing: Hawthorne's Reflections on the Daguerreotype in The House of the Seven Gables [pp. 460 - 481] Miscegenated America: The Civil War [pp. 482 - 501] Unseemly Commemoration: Religion, Fragments, and the Icon [pp. 502 - 521] Pittsburgh at Yellowstone: Old Faithful and the Pulse of Industrial America [pp. 522 - 541] The Whiteness of Film Noir [pp. 542 - 566] Nuclear Pictures and Metapictures [pp. 567 - 597] Tex-Sex-Mex: American Identities, Lone Stars, and the Politics of Racialized Sexuality [pp. 598 - 616] A Forum, Not a Temple: Notes on the Return of Iconography to the Museum [pp. 617 - 623] Back Matter [pp. 624 - 624] 
work_3sbdsqt4onavrgrcztto2a3sne	----	Alone in the Void: Getting Real about the Tenuous and Fragile Nature of Modern Civilization Humanities 2012, 1, 178-191; doi:10.3390/h1030178 humanities ISSN 2076-0787 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Article Alone in the Void: Getting Real about the Tenuous and Fragile Nature of Modern Civilization Paul C. Sutton 1,2 1 Department of Geography, University of Denver, Denver 80208, CO, USA; E-Mail: psutton@du.edu; Tel.: +1-303-871-2399; Fax: +1-303-871-2201 2 Barbara Hardy Institute, School of the Natural and Built Environments, University of South Australia, GPO Box 2471, Adelaide 5001, SA, Australia; E-Mail: pau.sutton@unisa.edu.au Received: 23 October 2012; in revised form: 12 November 2012 / Accepted: 19 November 2012 / Published: 28 November 2012 Abstract: It is estimated that roughly seventy billion human beings have lived out their lives on planet earth. It is very unlikely that any of the seven billion currently enjoying this planet will be living out the rest of their life any place else. Nonetheless, many of our movies and much of our literature envisions easy space travel that is scientifically unrealistic. On July 24th, 2012 Adam Frank, a professor of physics and astronomy, wrote an op-ed piece in the New York Times titled: Alone in the Void. This article posited that humanity (Homo sapiens) lives on a planet that is, for all intents and purposes, alone in a vast empty space. Reader comments to this editorial ranged from people who were very confident we were destined to colonize other galaxies to people who had little faith that humanity would even exist on the earth one hundred years from now. The reader’s responses mirror dominant and minority world views of economic theory. The dominant neo-classical economic paradigm is optimistic and growth oriented with faith in technological solutions to pressing social and environmental problems; whereas, the minority paradigm of ecological economics posits a need to move toward a steady state economy governed by the laws of thermodynamics as the preferred path for human progress. I side with ecological economics regarding what collective choices will result in a better future for humanity. Keywords: Neo-classical economics; ecological economics; sustainability OPEN ACCESS Humanities 2012, 1 179 1. Introduction We live on a ―Small Blue Planet‖. This idea was poignantly reinforced into humanity’s collective consciousness by the famous ―Earthrise‖ photograph taken by Apollo 8 astronauts in 1968 [1]. This photograph, in and of itself, is an ironic juxtaposition of our nascent capacity for space travel with the humbling fact that we are truly ―alone in the void‖. On July 24th, 2012 Adam Frank, a professor of physics and astronomy, wrote an op-ed piece in the New York Times with that very title: Alone in the Void [2]. This op-ed piece attracted over 150 thoughtful comments from readers of the New York Times that represented a significant dichotomy of opinion as to the likely destiny of humanity. The article posited that humanity (Homo sapiens) lives on a planet that is, for all intents and purposes, alone in a vast empty space. Whilst Dr. Frank dreamed that humanity’s future ―would be played out in the theatre of the stars‖ he ruefully concluded that if we are ever going to reach the stars we will first have to learn to live with one another on this planet in increasingly larger numbers with increasingly difficult challenges for the foreseeable future. The reader responses to this editorial were almost bipolar in nature ranging from this: ―We had the scientific miracle of Einstein’s physics. We developed flight from a bike shop to intercontinental jets, and made travel by ship obsolete. We have had the scientific miracle of computers and all their progeny of devices. Combining these things we have things like GPS so nobody need be lost again. We have had scientific miracles. We will have more.‖ (Mark Thomason) to this: ―Human beings are very good at destroying things: other species, each other, and the world around us. If we ever do figure out how to leave our solar system, I hope it is long after we have learned how to get along with each other, coexist with other living things, and that we have had many centuries of practice living in peace before we do.‖ (Bill Appledorf) While the range of comments were bipolar in nature, the majority of them were pessimistic and argued that humanity better figure out how to live here on earth before we colonized space. One poignant comment quoted Robert Browning: ―Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for?‖ And many commenters hoped we would chart a near term path toward sustainability with the hope that once we matured as a civilization we might extend our grasp beyond planet earth. However, these commenters often noted that our current and past behaviours did not suggest we would be successful. The bifurcated nature of these reader’s responses is mirrored in the dominant and minority world views of economic theory. The dominant neo-classical economic paradigm is optimistic regarding the future, with faith in technological solutions to pressing environmental problems and continuous economic growth the result. Alternatively, the minority paradigm of ecological economics asserts that we need to move toward a steady state economy governed by the laws of thermodynamics. Ecological economics is referred to as both a trans disciplinary and interdisciplinary field of academic research that aims to address the interdependence and coevolution of human economies and natural ecosystems over time and space [3]. It is interesting to note that the majority opinions of the commenters to this New York Times article are in opposition to the policy prescriptions of the dominant neo-classical Humanities 2012, 1 180 economic paradigm. I am convinced the paradigm of ecological economics holds the greatest promise regarding what collective choices are more likely to result in a better future for humanity. Ecological Economics addresses the relationships between ecosystems and economic systems [4]. Distinguishing Themes of Ecological Economics includes Sustainability, Broader notions of value, Intergenerational Equity, Uncertainty, Methodological Pluralism, and a Land Ethic [5]. Some economists are coming to recognize that the study of human activities on a finite planet, in the long-run, requires a different set of concepts to those useful for the economic analysis of households, firms, and nation states in the short- and medium-run. In a complementary way, ecologists, and other natural scientists, are increasingly recognizing that economic activity is here to stay; human activities are coming to dominate the global ecosystem, and ecosystem analysis which does not explicitly include economic activities makes less and less sense. The stage seems to be set for a coming together of these two disciplines so that problems of resource use and pollution in the global ecosystem can be discussed and assessed in a conceptual framework worthy of these problems [6]. A brief discussion of the idea of a ―collective‖ choice is warranted here. The very idea that the future is not pre-determined and that the future has different potential outcomes that will necessarily result from choices that we make both individually and collectively is not universally held [7]. Many eminent scholars such as Stephen Pinker, Richard Dawkins, and Edward O. Wilson hold to ideas that many would call a deterministic world view; and, to the idea that ―Free Will‖ (as most of us understand it) is merely an evolutionarily adaptive illusion. Many scholars who ally themselves with the perspective of ecological economics bridle at the ideas of determinist thinking entering into policy discussions regarding sustainable development and normative suggestions as to appropriate paths to human progress [8,9]. This discussion of ―The Future of Humanity‖ is premised on the assumption that human beings will make individual and collective choices that will make a difference as to what will be taking place on this planet tomorrow, next year, a hundred years from now, and ten thousand years from now. 2. The Dark Side of the Earth Since the dawn of agriculture roughly 10,000 years ago, the dark side of the earth has lit up with city lights at an accelerating pace. Images of the earth at night derived from nighttime satellite imagery are an iconic representation of both human presence and technology at this point in time (Figure 1). Today, more than half of humanity lives in these lit areas of the earth’s surface; and, the growth in human numbers and energy consumption that has produced these patterns of light will eventually stop. Cosmologists speculate that the reason we have not found the civilizations of other intelligent life that evolved in the universe is because the lights go out on the dark side of their planet for some catastrophic reason. It is hard to imagine what the dark side of the earth will look like in 10,000 years. If we want to see light on the dark side of the Earth 10,000 years from now humanity will have to develop an international attitude of cooperative stewardship of our commonwealth—this small blue planet. Sadly, we are not making great progress in this respect. Humanities 2012, 1 181 Figure 1. The ―Dark Side of the Earth‖ past, present, and future. 3. The State of the World Countless academics, non-governmental organizations, and government agencies have gone to great effort to measure, map, document, and report on ―The State of the World‖ from various perspectives of environmental sustainability. Lester Brown, founder of the Worldwatch Institute and president of the Earth Policy Institute has written seminal books on the subject: The State of the World, and Plan B: Mobilizing to Save Civilization [10,11]. Brown has made dire warnings regarding many concerns including but not limited to: human population growth, global warming, soil erosion, deforestation, water resource degradation and depletion, melting glaciers, peak oil, and the great pacific garbage gyre to name a few. Whilst Brown and his ilk have numerous critics from a variety of intellectual paradigms, there are a particularly vocal set of them who are neo-liberals (aka neoclassical economists) who see historical examples of economic growth and technological progress as eternally valid refutations to almost every ―limits to growth‖ argument [12]. These neo-liberal critics of those positing a more strong sustainability perspective often blithely ignore significant criticism that has been levelled at neo-classical economics by established economists. Amartya Sen, Nobel Laureate in Economics no less, has made significant challenges to fundamental assumptions of economics such as the idea that human beings behave in ways that are limited to selfish rationality [13]. And, even when selfishly rational actors act in their own self-interest their behaviours can result in outcomes that refute Adam Smith’s idea of ―The Invisible Hand‖ [14]. This is most famously presented by Hardin in his 1968 paper: The Tragedy of the Commons [15]. Despite the panoply of critics, there are numerous consensus reports from panels of experts that sound the same alarms as Lester Brown including the Humanities 2012, 1 182 Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (compiled by over 1,000 of the world’s leading biological scientists) [16], The Millennium Development Goals (produced by the United Nations Development Program) [17], the intergovernmental panel on climate change (IPCC), and the United Nations Environment Program’s (UNEP) Global Environmental Outlook 5 (GEO 5) [18]. The most recent findings forebode a very unpleasant future regarding the state of the world. The 5th Global Environment Outlook (GEO-5) report was prepared in June of 2012 by the UNEP Division of Early Warning and Assessment. This report notes that most of the aims and goals of the environmental treaties and agreements (N > 500) made since 1972 have not been met. The global ―we‖ have tended to have more success with specific goals such as getting lead out of gasoline and chlorofluorocarbons out of the stratosphere; however, larger goals such as preserving coral reefs and wetlands have not been achieved. In fact, some of the big broad and important goals such as preserving coral reefs, fish stocks, and wetlands are all categorized as experiencing ―Further Deterioration‖. Similar discussions are taking place in the scientific community in the world’s premier scientific journals, see ―A safe operating space for humanity [19] and ―Earth system science for global sustainability: grand challenges [20]. The findings of GEO-5 are stated in surprisingly strong language for a UN document and are quite startling when one considers that they represent what was distilled from, and survived passage through, numerous scientific panels and government agency approvals. The Environment Scorecard (Figure 2) of the Geo-5 report provides a summary of ―The State of the World‖ with respect to these consensually acknowledged environmental threats. This ―Report Card‖ for the planet shows ―Little or no Progress‖ or worse for more than 50% of the Environmental Challenges they assessed (19 out of 34). In many respects the document suggests we are better at policy writing than we are at policy implementation and enforcement. The specifics of the Geo-5 report are sobering: ―Little or no progress‖ on climate change, extinction of species, natural habitat preservation, actual trends in invasive alien species, sustainable agriculture, preservation of genetic diversity of important food and medicine species, access to food, desertification and drought, ecosystem service monitoring and preservation, and marine pollution. Even worse, the report cited that the following challenges were experiencing ―Further Deterioration‖: coral reefs, groundwater depletion, wetlands conservation, and fish stocks. The report warns that one fifth of all vertebrates are threatened with extinction and that some marine ecosystems have collapsed due to pollution and overfishing. In addition there are over 150 ―coastal dead zones‖. The planetary idiot lights are flashing and buzzing yet the world moves forward with business as usual. ―Business as usual‖ is a world in which policy priorities are almost exclusively driven and governed by the neo-classical economic paradigmatic view of the world. It would be easy to write a much longer list of detailed and depressing facts about the state of the world. Yet I don’t think it serves any purpose. Most people know enough facts to believe deep down that something is going to have to give. If you remain unconvinced I suggest you just explore one of these facts in detail, for example, start with the ―Great Pacific Garbage Gyre‖ that has been described as an accumulation of plastic debris floating just below the surface of an area of the Pacific Ocean that is larger than the state of Texas [21]. The GEO-5 report was very clear in stating: ―if humanity does not urgently change its ways, several critical thresholds may be exceeded, beyond which abrupt and generally irreversible changes to the life-support functions of the planet could occur.‖ Humanities 2012, 1 183 Figure 2. Environment Scorecard from GEO-5 Report. 4. Food For Thought Another way to ponder the sustainability problematic is to think about energy and food. A simple cocktail napkin calculation on this matter reveals a very frightening reality about how we obtain our global food supply. Global annual energy consumption is roughly 474 exajoules (474 × 10 18 joules). Food production consumes 30% of the world’s annual energy consumption and roughly one third of the food we produce is wasted [22]. Assuming a 2,000 calorie per day diet (8,340 kilojoules) and seven billion people, the energy cost of producing a joule of food is roughly 5 joules. In other words it takes 5 joules of energy (most of which is fossil fuel based) to produce 1 joule of food energy. We are using millions of years of stored sunshine (in the form of fossil fuels) to produce the food for billions of people. The modern industrial economy is on an energy consuming binge that is unprecedented. Every year we consume 400 years of ancient sunlight stored as fossil fuel [23]. This is unsustainable. Not Humanities 2012, 1 184 surprisingly, the developed world uses more than four times as much energy per person to grow food. This is one very fundamental way in which the developed world is more vulnerable than the developing world with respect to the sustainability challenge. The food-energy problematic is one of the most compelling arguments from those who warn about the challenges we will face as we pass through ―Peak Oil‖. Many find it surprising that agriculture only accounts for small fractions of GDP in the developed world (~ 3% in the European Union). This is indicative of how much our economy (including agricultural activity) is fundamentally dependent on cheap energy. Consider the fact that one gallon of gasoline in an engine will produce the equivalent of 97 hours of manpower [24]. Ninety seven hours of human labour at minimum wage in the United States works out to over $700. Five dollars a gallon seems like really cheap energy in light of these energy equivalents. 5. We Can’t Grow on Like This The food, energy, and environmental challenges that humanity is facing right now are regarded as very serious by the vast majority of scientific experts. Nonetheless, traditional economists dominate the policy arena and prescribe economic growth as the solution to many world problems and encourage continued increases in material and energy throughput in the global economy. The oft used catch phrase ―A rising tide lifts all boats‖ has been used with some rhetorical effect in this way. Yet, as Paul Ehrlich said many years ago: ―Perpetual growth is the creed of the cancer cell‖. The urban growth patterns we can see from night-time satellite imagery have been likened to the growth of cancer cells [25]. Richard Heinberg argues that the very industrial civilization that built the satellites that enables us to observe the earth at night from space is based on a capitalistic system that fundamentally needs to grow forever in order to function; and, that this expansionary trajectory is on a collision path with non-negotiable laws of nature [26]. The United Nations report titled ―Resilient People, Resilient Planet‖ called for a significant departure from traditional economic measures of progress in light of these global challenges [27]: ―Without clear metrics for measuring progress towards sustainable development, achieving internationally agreed goals will remain elusive. In bringing sustainability to the core of decision-making, rethinking the way economic development and human well-being are currently measured and monitored becomes crucial. This requires a broader set of indicators for measuring economic, social and environmental dimensions of sustainable development that go beyond GDP, the most used indicator of development.‖ The perpetual growth paradigm of neo-classical economics is even being criticized by its own Nobel laureates. Paul Krugman writes about the role of economics and economists in the global financial crisis for a piece titled ―Economics in the Crisis‖ in the New York Times [28]: ―And the inadequacy of policy is something that should bother economists greatly—indeed, it should make them ashamed of their profession, which is certainly how I feel. For times of crisis are when economists are most needed. If they cannot get their advice accepted in the clinch—or, worse yet, if they have no useful advice to offer—the whole enterprise of economic scholarship has failed in its most essential duty. And that is, of course, what has just happened.‖ But it is not as if we were not taking advice from these neo-classical economists. Tim Geithner is a classically trained economist appointed to be U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. Hank Paulsen got his Humanities 2012, 1 185 MBA from Harvard and rotated from CEO of Goldman Sachs to U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. These economists are in governmental positions of power and authority that are orders of magnitude more influential than any scientist despite the fact that the earth’s ecosystem services are more valuable than the entire world’s annual gross domestic product [29]. We need appropriate environmental experts/advocates in positions of authority within the government that have commensurate political and economic power to these stewards of the economy. Stewards of our economy (e.g., Secretary of the Treasury Timothy Geithner and the Chairman of the Federal Reserve Ben Bernanke) have the power to print billions if not trillions of dollars to ―save the economy‖. There are no people in any country with anything remotely approaching that sort of power to ―save the environment‖. Yet the environment we depend on for our very survival is in great peril despite the fact that it is clearly more valuable than any market economy we participate in. Economics is described as the science/art concerned with the allocation of scarce resources. The ecosystem services provisioned by the global environment have not been considered a scarce resource for the first two centuries of economic management. 6. Failure is an Option Civilizations have collapsed many times throughout human history. Joseph Tainter describes 24 civilizations that have collapsed. Tainter argues that as these societies became more complex they invested more and more of their diminishing resources into expanding systems of complexity. These systems of complexity can be things like pyramids, churches, Easter Island statues, investment banks, cell phone networks, power grids, municipal water systems, and suites of GPS satellites. When these civilizations collapse their societies move backward from these developments because they lack the resources to sustain them [30]. It is perhaps easy to imagine how difficult it would be for a Roman senator to foresee the fall of Rome or why a passenger on the Titanic might imagine the ship to be invincible. Today, the technology instantiated in our communications, transportation, and built environment can perhaps instil a similar but false sense of invincibility. Holding an i-pad in my hand and watching an old movie on Netflix using wireless internet access as I fly across the United States in a passenger jet gives me the sense that anything is possible. With i-pad in hand it is easy for me to imagine that I possess a more highly evolved intelligence than any one of my Cro-Magnon ancestors from tens of thousands of years ago. But I am not significantly more intelligent than my Cro-Magnon ancestors. If a Cro-Magnon infant were time-warped into a modern crib in suburban Chicago in 1985 he or she would likely be savvier with their i-pad than I am now. Our collective cultural and technological achievements are evolving more rapidly than our biology. Human civilization as we know it is perhaps a very fragile house of cards that is incredible in its complexity yet potentially vulnerable to sinking like the Titanic. We need to incorporate more awareness of our dependencies and a sense of humility into our educational practices. My e-mail signature file tries to express this with the following sequence of quotes: ―Civilization advances by extending the number of important operations which we can perform without thinking about them.‖ Alfred North Whitehead Humanities 2012, 1 186 ―We are always only one failed generational transfer of knowledge away from darkest ignorance.‖ Herman Daly ―I don‖t know how world war III will be fought, but I know how World War IV will, with sticks and stones.‖ Albert Einstein 7. Humanity’s Future and the Future of the Humanities I initially interpreted the invitation to write this paper to be on the topic of ―The Future of the Humanities‖ rather than the ―The Future of Humanity‖. This was a concern because I regard myself as a scientist who has very little to say about the future of the humanities. However, in the sense that the humanities are the ―arts‖ that science is not, I have to say the humanities are for me what make life most inspiring, wonderful, and enjoyable. Consequently, I am happy to write this polemic on the future of humanity in the hope that it will encourage both greater awareness about pressing matters of economic and environmental sustainability; and, to foster individual and collective decisions that secure a promising future for modern civilization. The apocryphal quote attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson: ―All my best thoughts were stolen by the ancients‖ is true regarding many of the ideas in this paper. Carl Sagan expressed many of these ideas more eloquently and succinctly in his musings on the ―Pale Blue Dot‖ as seen by the Voyager 1 space craft. The image of the earth was taken from 6 billion kilometres away in 1990 [31]. Sagan’s thoughts on the ―Pale Blue Dot‖: ―From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it’s different. Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there - on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors, so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we’ve ever known.‖ Humanities 2012, 1 187 This quote wonderfully summarizes the precarious nature of human existence and makes very reasonable suggestions to improve the likelihood of a vibrant human civilization into the more distant future. Waxing eloquent to the public at large about matters like this may not have been the greatest career move for Carl Sagan. It is hypothesized that Sagan was denied admission to the National Academy of Sciences because he was perceived as a populariser of science. Many scientists who dare enter into the world of politics and policy have been scorned. Many scientists who enter into the domain of economics pay a price also. Consider Frederick Soddy, a seminal thinker in the development of ecological economics. Soddy was the winner of the 1921 Nobel Prize in chemistry yet is often described as an eccentric who argued for a fundamental restructuring of the economic system including changing the nature of international monetary policy. Soddy’s wacky ideas included things like: (1) Abandoning the gold standard, (2) letting international exchange rates float, (3) using government surpluses and deficits as Keynesian economic tools, (4) establishing national bureaus of economic statistics that measured economic activity including statistics akin to a consumer price index. All of these ideas are now regarded as the standard operating procedure of mature governments regarding economic policy. There is a great old quote from Arthur Schopenhauer: ―All truth passes through three stages. First it is ridiculed. Second it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident.‖ Many of Soddy’s iconoclastic proposals have passed through these three phases. Some of his ideas are still in the first stage. This includes the idea that the fractional reserve banking system causes debt to grow exponentially while the real economy is fundamentally based on exhaustible fossil fuels. The critique of current neo-classical economic theory inherent in this idea remains violently opposed. Nonetheless, I do believe that one day it will be regarded as self-evident. We take our scientists and engineers for granted and we love the technology they both produce. However, when scientists and engineers start saying things that are uncomfortable, like the warnings about the dangers of global warming and climate change courageously put forth by the late Stephen Schneider, they are often ridiculed and violently opposed. Much of this ridicule comes from the classically trained economists. Paul Ehrlich has been so reviled that he felt it necessary to write a book titled: The Betrayal of Science and Reason [32]. Ask yourself this question: ―What do you think will be regarded as “self-evident” in 50 to 100 years regarding peak oil, global warming, and human population growth?‖ Frankly, I am more comfortable driving over the bridge designed by a civil engineer, using the cell phone built by a team of engineers, and trusting the medical diagnosis of a scientifically trained doctor than I am with the credit default swaps of any professional in investment banking or the financial recommendations of anyone in financial planning. I am increasingly of the opinion that the future of modern civilization and perhaps even human existence will begin when we choose to stop listening to the economists, start listening to the scientists, and re-learn what is really important from the humanities. 8. Living in the Solution for a Shot at Being Here 10,000 Years from Now The problems we face are often perceived as overwhelming. Hopelessness, helplessness, despair, and apathy are common reactions of those who learn of the myriad challenges we face. It helps to look Humanities 2012, 1 188 on many bright sides of the current global situation. One bright side is this: we will eventually run out of fossil fuel that is dumping CO2 into the atmosphere [33]. As this takes place we can hope that our collective awareness and behaviour will change in ways that mitigate or cease the myriad ways we are destroying our natural environment including loss of habitat and biodiversity, loss of ecosystem functioning, and pollution of our air and water. If we cooperate and plan our future we will live healthier lives, be less hypermobile, eat more locally grown food, have stronger communities, spend more time with family and friends, breathe cleaner air, grow some of our own food, spend more time creating and less time consuming, participate more fully in our local and national governance, and have more leisure time. The hypermobile, eternally growing, entropy accelerating ways of modern civilization that are championed by many of the economists of the world will come to an end regardless of the choices we make. I endorse choices that will support smoother transitions with less human suffering. These choices will create communities that are more connected and cooperative than the increasingly individualistic paths that many people and nations have chosen in the recent past. Perhaps instead of shrugging, Atlas will rise. There are numerous local, regional, and global efforts to foster and support a suite of choices to enable a smoother transition that minimizes human suffering. Nobody knows exactly what the transition will look like but realist scientists who think about this do not see more economic growth as the answer. People often ask what they can personally do to contribute to a sustainable future. We have to think and act locally and globally. Reduce, reuse, and recycle is still true. Knowledge is power is still true. Get informed about what is happening and what people are thinking needs to happen. Participate in making it happen. Your vote counts. Support candidates, policies, institutions, and governments that take these problems seriously. Civilization needs you [34]. What you do, what we do, today, tomorrow and for the rest of this generation, will profoundly influence what the dark of the earth will look like in 10,000 years. 9. Conclusions Modern civilization has been subsidized by fossil fuel to an extent that few people truly understand. The rapid consumption of this ancient energy has supported massive increases in food production to support an exponentially growing human population that now stands in excess of 7 billion people. A significant fraction of the people alive today use inordinate quantities of energy to enable consumption and hypermobility that is unprecedented in the history of the human race. The fossil fuel energy that sustains modern civilization will run out. Fossil fuels like petroleum may run out much more quickly because there are now additional billions of people interested in consuming it. The achievements of modern civilization in the arts, science, and technology are simultaneously incredibly valuable and incredibly vulnerable. Preserving those aspects of modern civilization that support continued development in the arts and sciences will require collective choices that steer our aggregate behaviour onto the path of sustainability. There are stark differences between traditional neo-classical economics and ecological economics as to what those collective decisions are. The majority of scientists who understand these circumstances would endorse those choices that are consistent with the laws of thermodynamics. Nonetheless, neoclassical economists dominate the policy arena and prescribe eternal Humanities 2012, 1 189 growth as the solution to our problems. Physical science is not consistent with the policy prescriptions of the dominant economic world view. The perspective of ecological economics is fundamentally rooted in the laws of thermodynamics and recognizes that ―Nature Bats Last‖. Given recent global developments it seems to be quite inevitable that the dark side of the earth in the future will look like the one 10,000 years ago. However, the question is how humanity will experience this transition and how fast it will happen. If we further stay on this business as usual track, we will learn the hard way with increasing catastrophes. The dark side of the earth will be black sooner than later, perhaps as soon at the 22nd century [35]. Thus, making the transition to a non-growth and sustainable society as smoothly as possible needs to be a primary objective for humanity. This priority must be established to minimize human suffering in the coming century and we have to take action now. This vision for the future of civilization could result in a dark side of the earth in 10,000 years that looks very similar to what it looks like now, but based on a sustainable, renewable resource-based non-growth economy. This is a vision for the future of humanity that work, not wishes, will make real. Acknowledgments I would like to thank Tom Cova and Sharolyn Anderson and the anonymous peer reviewers for their insightful comments on early drafts of this manuscript. I would also like to thank Robert Costanza for his tireless work contributing to the development of scholars in the area of ecological economics. Lastly, I want to thank Chris Elvidge for his visionary work making satellite imagery of the earth from space at night a compelling cultural icon representing human presence and impact on the planet. References and Notes 1. Frank Borman, Jim Lovell, and William Anders. Earthrise. NASA image of the day gallery. Available online: http://www.nasa.gov/multimedia/imagegallery/image_feature_102.html (accessed on 14 August 2009). 2. Adam Frank. Alone in the Void. Available online: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/07/25/ opinion/alone-in-the-void.html?_r=0 (accessed on 18 October 2012). 3. Xepapadeas Anastasios. ―Ecological economics.‖ In The New Palgrave Dictionary of Economics, 2nd ed. Gordonsville, VA: Palgrave MacMillan, 2008. 4. Robert Costanza. ―What is ecological economics?‖ Ecological Economics 1 (1989): 1–7. 5. David Bengston. ―Reply: What is Ecological Economics?‖ Available online: http://www.metla.fi/archive/forest/1993/09/msg00004.html (accessed on 7 November 2012). 6. John L.R. Proops. ―Ecological economics: Rationale and problem areas.‖ Ecological Economics 1 (1989): 59–76. 7. Sam Harris. Free Will. New York: Free Press, 2012. 8. Paul Ehrlich. Human Natures: Genes, Cultures, and the Human Prospect. Washington, DC: Island Press, 2000. 9. Wendell Berry. Life is a Miracle: An Essay against Modern Superstition. Washington, DC: Counterpoint press, 2000. 10. Lester Brown. The State of the World 2000. New York: W.W. Norton and Company Inc, 2000. Humanities 2012, 1 190 11. Lester Brown. Plan B 3.0: Mobilizing to Save Civilization. Washington, DC: Earth Policy Institute, 2008. 12. Bailey Ronald. Never Right, But Never in Doubt Famine-monger Lester Brown still Gets it Wrong after All These Years. Available online: http://reason.com/archives/2009/05/05/never-right-but- never-in-doubt (accessed on 12 October 2012). 13. Sen Amartya. ―Rational Fools: A Critique of the Behavioural Foundations of Economic Theory.‖ Philosophy and Public Affairs 6 (1977): 317, 332. 14. Adam Smith. An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations. London: W. Strahan and T. Cadell, 1777. 15. Garrett Hardin. ―Tragedy of commons.‖ Science 162 (1968): 1243–48. 16. Johan A. Rockstrom. ―A safe operating space for humanity.‖ Nature 461 (2009): 472–75. 17. Walter.V. Reid, D. Chen, L. Goldfarb, Heide Hackmann, Yei T. Lee, Khotso Mokhele, Elinor Ostrom, Kari Raivio, Johan Rockstrom, and Hans Joachim Schellnbuber. ―Earth systems science for global sustainability: grand challenges.‖ Science 330 (2010): 916–17. 18. Millennium Ecosystem Assessment (MEA). Ecosystems and human well-being: synthesis. Washington, DC: Island Press. Available online: http://www.millenniumassessment.org/ documents/document.356.aspx.pdf (accessed on 17 August 2009). 19. United Nations. The millennium development goals report. New York: United Nations. Available online: http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/pdf/The Millennium Development Goals Report 2008.pdf (accessed on 14 August 2009). 20. United Nations. Measuring Progress: Environmental Goals & Gaps. Nairobi: United Nations Environment Programme, 2012. 21. NOAA. The Great Pacific Garbage Gyre. Available online: http://marinedebris.noaa.gov/info/ patch.html#6 (accessed on 5 October 2012). 22. FAO. United Nations Report Energy-Smart Food for people and climate. Rome: Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, 2011. 23. Thom Hartmann. Last Hours of Ancient Sunlight. New York: Three Rivers Press, 2004. 24. David Pimentel, Alan F. Warneke, Wayne S. Teel, Kimberly A. Schwab, Nancy J. Simcox, Daniel M. Ebert, Kim D. Daenisch, and Marni R. Aaron. Food, Energy, and Society, 3rd ed. edited by David Pimentel, Marcia Pimentel. Boca Raton: CRC Press, 2007. 25. Alan Gregg. ―A Medical Aspect of the Population Problem.‖ Science 121 (1955): 681–82. 26. Richard Heinberg. The End of Growth. New York: New Society Publishers, 2011. 27. United Nations. Resilient People, Resilient Planet: A Future Worth Choosing. Report of the United Nations Secretary-General’s High-Level Panel on Global Sustainability. New York: United Nations, 2012. 28. Paul Krugman. Economics in the Crisis. Available online: http://krugman.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/03/05/economics-in-the-crisis/ (accessed on 13 October 2012). 29. R. Costanza, R. d’Arge, R. de Groot, S. Farber, M. Grasso, B. Hannon, S. Naeem, K. Limburg, J. Paruelo and R. O’Neill, et al. ―The Value of the World’s Ecosystem Services and Natural Capital.‖ Nature 387 (1997): 15. Humanities 2012, 1 191 30. Joseph Tainter. The Collapse of Complex Societies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. 31. Carl Sagan. Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space, 1st ed. New York: Random House, 1994. 32. Paul Ehrlich, and Anne Ehrlich. Betrayal of Science and Reason: How Anti-Environmental Rhetoric Threatens Our Future. Washington, DC: Island Press, 1996. 33. James D. Ward, Steve H. Mohr, Myers R. Baden, and Nel P. Willem. ―High estimates of supply constrained emissions scenarios for long-term climate risk assessment.‖ Energy Policy 51 (2012): 598–604. 34. Greg Ederer. (author of ―The Liberal Elite Battalion‖), in discussion with the author, June, 2006 35. Alexa Danner. ―Earth 2100: Is this the final century of our civilization?‖ ABC News, 29 May 2009. http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/Earth2100/. © 2012 by the author; licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/). 
work_3tmy5woq2ne2jaawxa4n6tak7u	----	ED049983.tif.pdf DOCUMENT RESUME ED 049 983 SO 001 137 AUTHOE Bailey, Stephen K. TITLE The City as Classroom. PUB EATE 23 Apr 71 NOTE 13p.; Speech given at the Annual Convention, New York State Council for the Social Studies, Buffalo, New York, April 23, 1971 EDES PRICE DESCRIPTORS IDENTIFIERS ABSTRACT EDRS Price 1F-$0.65 HC-$3.29 *City Problems, *Community Resources, Community Role, *Community Study, Educational Objectives, Educational Resources, Field Experience Programs, Field Instruction, General Educaticn, Relevance (Education), School Community Programs, Socialization, Social Problems, *Social Studies, *Urban Education *Open Schools The author gives a rationale for utilizing the city as a place to learn. The city has many problems and although logistics require that we conduct most education in the school building, the author argues for putting out best brains to the task of bringing the city tc the classroom and tc exploiting the city as a classroom when appropriate. Teaching can no longer be done only by professionals. Others such as para-professionals, businessmen, government officials, doctors, artists, parents, neighbors, cab drivers, policemen, etc. can and should be involved in the teaching process because they can often do the job better than the teacher due to their unique and special talents. By learning from these people the student is preparing himself for a life which is closer tc the real situations represented, not by the classroom teacher, but by the man on the street. (CWB) M O THE CITY AS CLASSROOM By Stephen K. Bailey Chairman, Policy Institute Syracuse University Research Corporation. U.S. DEPARTMENT OF HEALTH, EDUCATION & WELFARE OFFICE OF EDUCATION THIS OOCUMENT HAS BEEN REPRO- DUCED EXACTLY AS RECEIVED FROM THE PERSON OR ORGANIZATION ORIG- INATING IT. POINTS OF VIEW OR OPIN- IONS STATED 00 NOT NECESSARILY REPRESENT OFFICIAL OFFICE OF EOU- CATION POSITION OR POLICY. Delivered before the New York State Council for the Social Studies, Friday, April 23; 1971, Statler Hilton Hotel, Buffalo, New York. As one who has spent most of his adult life in the maddening but fascin- ating field of the Social Studies, it is good to meet with those whose lives have been similarly directed and dedicated. This is not an overwhelmingly good year for social studies. Our raw materials namely, our own society and the world -- are not only over- running our capacity to absorb and to understand; the few glimpses we get that we think theft we do understand are uniformally lugUbrioUst I am reminded of the sick joke about the fellow who finished reading the Sunday paper and then took his family out to the city dump to get a breath of fresh air. But it is no good trying to be an alarmist before a group such as this. Social Studies teachersof all people5are not likely in this day and age to be alarmed by anything said by an over-30 college professor, and outside of California the title "Regent" brings no whatsoever to anyone. The fact is that you people are alarmed daily by expert alarmers. Actually, you have become so inured to alarms that a sudden flurry of peace and quiet would probably be psychologically unnerving. I am reminded of the lighthouse keeper on a fog-shrouded reef off the Grand Banks who for 30 years listened to an automatic cannon which went off every three minutes to warn away craft that could not see the light through the fog. Thirty years! T., -2- Boom! Every three minutes! One early morning when the lighthouse keeper was asleep, something went wrong with the cannon trigger mechanism and suddenly it failed to go off. The lighthouse keeper bounded out of bed screaming, "My God! What was that There is a lot of dogma around these days that says that only urban schools have any troubles, and that only suburban social studies teachers are smart. I do not intend to beat a dogma with a stigma, but I can only tell you that some rural high schools are manned by social studies teachers who, in their ability to respond to crises, would put many of our urban and suburban school adminiaG2ators to shame. I heard the other day about the hulking farm boy who burst into the rural history teacher's office and said: "Teach," in my right hand I got a 10" bread knife. In my left hand I got an $18 dollar bill that some city slicker passed off on ma and that my pappy says is count'erfeit. Now that knife in any right hand tells me that you are going to give me change for that $18 dollar bill in my left hand. The historian calmly replied, "You're damn right young man.. Do you wait 2 nines or 3 sixes?" But today I want to talk about cities. Cities have been classrooms for longer than schools have been. Beginning with the training of scribes and artisans in ancient Thebes and Babylon, through the market-place teaching of Socrates, through the guild apprentice- ships of the Hanseatic League, through the spacial disjunctiveness of the medieval universities, up to the present era, a vast dimension of the educa- tional development of the human race has taken place inside cities, but outside,of formal school rooms. Alas, today as we all know, our great cities are classrooms for a lot we wish kids would not learn: how to pop drugs; how to be a successful bully or extortionist; how to pick pockets and shoplift without being ca-3ht; how to break windows, bend parking meters, strew toilet paper, and paint 2 obscenities .on public buildings; how to con others into sympathy; how to hate and injure and terrorize; how to beat raps. Social injustice in the cities is a fantastic teacher. Sir Thomas More, in his biting 16th century satire,' Utopia, pointed to the fact that crime in England was alarmingly common, but that in a grotesquely unequal society, crime was the only means of livelihood open to a great number of persons. In as terrible a voice as hispen can conjure, More fairly shouts at the Bngland of his day, "What other thing do you. do than make.thieves and then punish them?" Can anyone deny that our own cities are, in part, classrooms for making thieves and then punishing them? But our cities do more than make thieves. They set and symbolize the value preference of the overwhelming majority of our people. The city manufactures the cultural wasteland that is universally disseminated on film, tape, and microwaves; the city prints the pornography and the scandal sheets; it rips the ears with rivets, pneumatic drills, horns, and subways; it spews poisons into,the air and pollution into our waters. . Its over- crowding dehumanizes our souls, and destroys our sympathy. "Hell", wrote George Bananos, "is not to love any more." any of our cities are classrooms in Hell, and across the faces of teaming millions burdened by the. hurried meaninglessness of the daily grind, are etched the words that Dante read as he and 'argil crossed into the Inferno, "Abandon hope all ye who enter herein It is the city as classroom that gives reinforcement to so many of .the dismal aphorisms of this century: "You caalt beat city hall!" "Never give a SUcker'an even-`breaks" ..."ttli:S11 politics."' 'Daa't get . involvedi' "Awww, so what?" "Get it while you can! ' 'I'm for mein 1 "Up the establishmentl" "Off the pigsl" It has always been one of the self-centered follies of educators that we have believed that the school as classroam_is an effective antidote to the city as classroom. Now that the city has entered the school in terrifyingly new and disruptive ways, perhaps we can begin to appreciate how limited in truth our past efforts have actually been. We are not even as successful as ancient monasteries - -we cannot even keep the evil world at bay. Actually part of our failure has been our attempt to do just that. What are nice guys like us doing in a world like this? Why does not someone pass a law or something? It fs a sign of our growing maturity that we have come to realize the tragic depth of our condition--that laws are not enough, that legislation leaves a lot of the problem simply untouched. I say this not because new laws are not needed. (I happen to agree with Lord Macauley that "reformers are compelled to legislate fast because bigots will not legislate early".) I say it because at the root of our troubles are psychological difficulties that mark a bitter if transient point in our fitful evolution as a species. We hdVenot escaped the bonds of ego, tribe, and things. In consequence, we clutter and threaten our world with the hostilities of status and possession. And this in face of the reality that the universalization of technology, and the very bustle of numbers on this globe, place a premium upon mutuality, self-trfmscendence, and reason if'the species is in fact to survive. Our task is not to fashion a new syllabus or a new curriculum. Our task is to fashion new kinds of human beings. And here, wonderfully and perversely, we cannot succeedunless we.learn.to use,a1f the educative resources thaere to be ound in our cities. We cannot'suoceed unless .... . : A - 5- we find ways to use our cities as classrooms. In view of what I have previously said about the city as classroom, one might wonder what possible nutrients the city has for transforming human nature in any positive sense. The answer is that the nutrients are legion. For up to this point I have given you s one-sided view only. If tile city makes thieves and destroys human values, it also makes saints and reinvigorates human values. The city makes citizens out of strangers. The city is the focal point for the creation and reproduction 'and display of almost everything that is beautiful and ennobling and memorable in our civilization.' Itis in the great cities that theaters and symphonies and museums and libraries are located. In and around cities are the centers of the vast enterprises of commerce and industry, of medicine and social service, of transportation and communications that hold such enormous promise for the future of the human race. Cities are the foci of modern guilds and labor unions whose apprenticeships are such an important part of our, total educative system. In the cities, professional and 'aesthetic talent of exquisite quality abounds. Cities are pluralistic; cities offer options. According to E. B. White, "The urban inhabitant is in the happy position of being able to choose his spectacle and so conserve his sou/." If cities turn out the "kitsch" of soap operas and crime series for TV, they also support Sesame Street and Jacques Cousteau. If the slums manufacture violence, they also create a myriad ofquiet heroes (and some not so quiet) who see beyond the years "thine alabaster cities gleam undimmed by human tears" f most lives are.lived,lasTizoreaucontended, in quiet -6,- desperation, the city creates models of heroism, and reminds all of us of the words of Thoreau's Concord' neighbor, Ralph Waldo Emerson: "Great men, great nations, are not boasters of buffoons, but perceivers of the terror of life, and have manned themselves to face it." How, in fact, can the city be used as classroom? ,,The exciting work of the Quincy Vocational Technical School in Quincy, Massachusetts in turning to the area's industries to dis- cover the special skills necessary to fill the local job needs. "Project Able," as it is known, is revolutionizing the school's curriculum and its teaching emphases; --"Project Score" in that city, where teachers supervise kids after school hours in a variety of yervice and community research assignments; --"Project EPIC " -.-in the Cranston, Rhode Island public schools, in which 12th grade social studies students work with community leaders and informed citizens in investigating specific community, national, and international problensm-using the combined resources of the school and the community; ,--The Philadelphia Parkway School Project. It may not be universalizable in the sense of doing away completely with walled schools, but its basic theme of using the city as fully as possible as an educative resource is most certainly 6 universalizable. Parkway addresses itself to one of the. central educational dilemmas of our times. In the words of 'lames Coleman, "Modern society is information-rich and action-poor for the young"; --The direction pointed last summer by Jerry Bruner in collaboration with a conference sponsored by .the Office of Child Development of HEW: the'. opening up on a national scale of .opportunities for adolescents to take responsible roles in caring for young children. The Education Development Center of Cadbridge, Massachusetts -proposes to carry out this idea, utilizing .day -care centers and offering professional.training.tn,childcare for. secondary school students; --The Germantown; Pennsylvania, Area School Project involving students and community representatives in regular cooperative ventures ranging from curriculum- building in the humanities, arts, and social sciences to direct community service through established agencies. Over 100 community people, agencies, and institutions have been effectively utilized by the schools.' High school course credit is given for at least some of these programs; -rThe'recent exciting prospectus of the Berkeley, California, Unified School District for creating competing options for public school students of all ages, based on the pluralism in:the community.. Parents and community representatives wula.be involved with theSchools:in various programs in and out of the regular school buildings'; --The community experime;AP,9:_:the John Adamsli,igh School in Portland, . Oregon as a part. of the.National ES .110 consortium of.highschools interested in improving vocational education; -- "Project. Unique in Rochester, New York, which-among other things has conducted an experimental class (known as Sibley's Satellite School) on the fourth floor of a downtown department store--this as a way of bringing educational innovation to the attention of the citizens at large; --The Wave Hill Environmental Studies Center's Project in Harlem and, south Bronx in which children are encouraged to explore city streets and report bank on particular physical features. Thus such mysteries as moss growing in the crannies of decaying city walls can serve as an introduction to classroom lessons in Biology; --The Educational Talent Pcol Reserve scenario developed. by ECCO (the . Educational and Cultural Center of Onondaga County) in my home town of Syracuse. .CCO is one of the 16 regional educational planning centers set up by the State Education Department in New York. The Talent Pool Reserve would be a list of human resources in the area (housewives, engineers, artists, accountants? inventors--you name it) who would make a life-long conmitzent, offering adjunct educational contributionE to the schools and colleges of the region. I have only scratchedthe surface. New ways to tap the educative resources of cities are mushrooming daily. They extend from bringing,'`' exciting citizens. and programs into the schools as adjunct "instructors", to work-study and in-service training programs that involve moving the youngsters out of traditional schools entirely. I do not have an exhaustive catalog of these uses of cities as classrooms. Perhaps the Council staff could perform a'useful clearing-house function for you- -for us. g :I* 4. -r . . But excitingas all of this is and'can be, it 'represents today only a-drop in.the bucket. All too.many,of.our urban and suburban'achools'are tradition-bound, custodial, crisis-rielden, and cynical. One principal in my city tried to reassure a baffled substitute teacher in an urban school last month by saying, "Look, if you have kept any semblance of order for half the time, you're a huge success." But it may be thQ very notion o order that is at fault. Even when achieved,, it may be wrong. As my colleague Ralph Hambrick has put it, "A clasiroom of 30 children all the same age, sitting; neatly in rows, with hands folded, so quiet that one 'can hear a pin drop' may be the real chaos in the schools." Rids- - and especially troubled kids--are hyper-thyroid. Getting them out of the formal classroom may be the only way to command their attention. What many of them are screaming at us is what Alfred North Whitehead wrote in quiet prose, "Without adventure;" Whitehead suggested "civiliz4tion is in full decay." One of the ways to get adventure. back into educltion is to expose kids directly to the chartless frontiers of urban patholdgy and to the wondrous options of urban creativity and lifestyles. Cities are ecological laboratories. They are placeT where the sheer 5 nudbers of interacting people provide a marvelous observatory for human behavior and for behavioral consequences. Cities provide the delights of privacy as well as that terrifying companion of privacr4 loneliness. Cities teem with conflicts; and with. the political, governmental, and economic means for resolving conflictspeacefully. Cities are Masses of unsolved problems--a sufficient nudher.of problems to keep the lives of untold generations seeking solutions filled with adventure. And dities,to repeat an earlierheme are .vast educative resources in their myriad, occupational, professional, and ,aesthetic manifestations. It may beheresy, but I believe firmly that State Educational Departments,:, including our own, must take'a whole new look at the idea of compulsory 'attendance--at least as presently interpreted. As adults, we make claims on our, society for almost endless options--to take care of differences in talent, aspiration, and energy. And yet we insist on locking youngsters into developmental straight-jackets. Why should some classes not take place in industrial settings under the joint sponsorship of industry and labor? Way should restless kids, age 14 or 15,'not have the chance to drop out.of traditional.schools at'will, and without stigma, and.to drop into pon-traditional classrooms-in city-maaseums,. libraries, perfonling..exts centers, aid auto-repair garages? Why should not some of the three B's be taught at hoMe through cable.TV, or at a'work site through tutorials or. specially organized classes? U we face up to these needs and possibilities, we will continue to have vast amounts of unrest in our schools.. It is. true that reforms.of the kind suggested would mean that existing insurance laws, educational regulations, and labor laws would have to be re-examired and modified. 314,-. why not? Mostjof these laws were pat on the books in a totally different era. They are hardly sacrosanct in a world of exploding educational tech- . nologes like cable television, home video cassettes, and mobile science laboratories.that enorm9usly-extend:the rangeoflocations Where education '.can take place. We are in trouble. Fortunately we now recognize that we are. No lid is going to be placed on the bubbling caldron we.observe. Not even allitera- tive Vice-Presidents have that power. Restless, rootless youngsters need something to live by, something to capture their imagination, something to absorb their energies, something to give them a sense of adventure and meaning. And they desperately need models, people models, who give a damn about them and who by example demonstrate that civilized behavior can be exciting and joyfUl. There are an insufficient number of these models in our schools. Only the larger community can supply them in sufficient quantity and intimacy. There is always a danger that in conjuring an exciting future, one will be massively unfair to the past and the present. Even if it were desirable (which it is not) suddenly to empty oux schools and turn all youngsters loose in the asphalt jungle, the logistics of such an operation would be quite impossible. For as far ahead as I can see, most formal education will have to take place inside school buildings. Most children will have to be taught by certified teachers, not by shop foremen or industrial engineers. The Consequence of this reality is that we must apply our best minds to bringing the best of the_city-into-the 7classroom at the same time that we exploit the classroom potential of the city itself. The model of the city--at least, the city at:its best--has a lot to offer the schools. For the city permits enormous options. It allows talents to be developed and successes to be achieved in a variety of ways., It 11 praises the ballet dancer, whether or not she can do calculus. The city is patient 'about differing learning speeds. The city allows. a number of ways' J.'. . for its citizens.to participate in the making of decisions that affect tuem The city's labor market...is the ultims.te Validating instrument of educational. ' achievement. To do a particular job, the city says, "You've got t.o know. : . something, or know how to do somet The city provides many ,reinforcing ways of learning simple realities... - . ; These are some of the lessons the city has for the schools... If we take these seriously, we can begin to make our formal classrooms into exciting and productive educational ent.erprises. As Saul Touster has written with :, great eloquence; the traditional "delivery" model of teaching must give way to a "field-of-force" modelhis usef.ul imagery for minimizing the classroom . lecture and maximizing meaningful and diverse educative ,exposures and experi-, : . ences, in and out of the classr-com. There are many great teachers hidden in the homes and places of emlaocileat of our great cities. These must be sought out and used with increasing frequency and effectiveness. But most of our teachers are, and will continue . to be, inside the. schools. It istheir capaCity. to take lessons from the. ' .: city, as well as their capacity to use the city for educational purposes, . that will determine the future of the collective enterprise in which we are., . engaged. All many of them need is your. leadership and your inspiration; . Sixty years ago, E. G. Wells wrote an obscure navel called The New In it the main character says at one point,' "If .humanity !. cannot develop an education, far.-ceyond 4anythips that is now.:provided, if it cannot collectively invent.devicea and solve problems.cwanuch :richer,' . , "e/ :'; '-; broader scale than it does at the present time, it cannot hope to achieve any very much finer order or any more general happiness than it now enj oys . " This says it all, I leave you with only one piece of gratuitous advice. When you return to your respective homes, offices, and class- rooms, and find the samecrunch, the same in-basket, the same crises, the same weariness, take a moment, look out the window at your surround- ing city and say out loud, "I was once told that only professionals could and should run schools. It isn't true now, if it ever was." And then; mentally, I want you to see yourself standing in a circle an open circle formed by the linkage of hands of supervisors, teachers, pare-professionals, students, maintenance men, legislators, business men; labor leaders, school board members, museum directors, doctors, social workers2 artists, police, bus drivers, parents, older brothers and sisters? TV managers, in short, all your civic neighbors -- and you are saying to them very simply, but earnestly, "We need each other." OF************************** 13 
work_3u63t6nygvfkliwzjhgwx3vqfq	----	Almaas | Ridhwan Google Tag Manager   Teaching Method A. H. Almaas Ridhwan School Online Courses Ways to Engage Blog Donate Portal Login Homepage See More Pages Main Pages Home The Teaching The Method The Ridhwan School Ways to Engage Friends of Ridhwan About Us By Region Asia Australia/New Zealand Diamond Approach Online/Diamond Net Europe South Africa US Middle US Northeast/Eastern Canada US South US West/Western Canada Pages A. H. Almaas Public Events Blog The Store Donate The Teachers Resources Recommended Books Recommended Articles The Library The Glossary FAQ Almaas Portal Login Search Teaching Method A. H. Almaas Ridhwan School Online Courses Ways to Engage Blog Donate Portal Login A. H. Almaas Founder of the Diamond Approach to Self-Realization A. H. Almaas Founder of the Ridhwan School for Spiritual Development 1 2 Featured Video From the Archives: In a talk from 1993, A.H. Almaas discusses impeccability in terms of doing this Work, the Diamond Approach, and brings in a paradox related to impeccability. There’s a danger for the ego to believe that what happens in the Work is the result of the ego’s efforts and actions. This brings in the paradox. Almaas also talks about the perspectives of Chesed and Geburah, usually translated as mercy and severity, or abundance and might. More videos >>     A. H. Almaas is the pen name of A. Hameed Ali, founder of the Diamond Approach to Self-Realization, a contemporary teaching that developed within the context of both ancient spiritual teachings and modern depth psychology theories. Almaas has authored eighteen books about spiritual realization, including the Diamond Heart series, The Pearl Beyond Price, The Void, and The Alchemy of Freedom. He is the founder of the Ridhwan School for Spiritual Development, an inner work school devoted to the realization of True Nature. The orientation of the school is directed toward guiding students to realize their true nature to the fullest realization and further still to endless enlightenment. Read more about A. H. Almaas >> Find events with A. H. Almaas >> . Recommended Videos The Interplay of Grace and Effort on a Nondual Path Emptiness, The Edge of the Unknown Perception and Reality SAND2018 Panel Appreciating the Human Being Human Is a Development More Videos Recommended Articles At the Cutting Edge of Using Psychological Concepts in Soul Work is Spiritual Teacher Hameed Ali The Passionate Love for Truth Spiritual Work and Psychotherapy Uncovering the Essential Self Experience, Self, and Individual Consciousness More Articles Recommended Books Love Unveiled The Jeweled Path The Alchemy of Freedom Runaway Realization The Power of Divine Eros More Books From The Glossary Explore More Glossary Terms >> B When We are Simply Being, Our Experience of Ourselves is Direct, Immediate and Free from the Influence of the Thick Veil of Accumulated Memories, Ideas, Ideals and Images We have seen that in order for us to be authentically and fully ourselves, our identity must include the ontological depth of the soul, essential presence, and that to be presence means simply to be. When we are simply being, our experience of ourselves is direct, immediate, spontaneous, and natural, free from the influence of the thick veil of accumulated memories, ideas, ideals, and images. We have also seen that conventional experience does not allow the experience of self-realization because conventional experience is virtually determined by this thick veil of personal history. B When a Person is Identified with Something Other than Primordial Presence, He is Not Simply Being In the experience of self-realization, the self recognizes its identity as presence. When a person is identified with something other than the primordial presence, self-realization is absent. He is not then being himself; he is not simply being. He is not one with his essence. The most fundamental and deepest aspect of the soul is absent in his experience of himself. This is the root of narcissism. In narcissism, the experience of the self is disconnected from its core, from the depths of what it is. It is estranged from its true nature, exiled from its primordial home. Subscribe to the Diamond Approach Sign up with your email address to receive news and updates Sign Up   See past editions of the Diamond Approach newsletter   ​Connect With Us           About Us About Us Search form Search FRIENDS OF RIDHWAN VISIT THE STORE SEE SITEMAP Main Pages Home The Teaching The Method The Ridhwan School Ways to Engage Friends of Ridhwan About Us By Region Asia Australia/New Zealand Diamond Approach Online/Diamond Net Europe South Africa US Middle US Northeast/Eastern Canada US South US West/Western Canada Pages A. H. Almaas Public Events Blog The Store Donate The Teachers Resources Recommended Books Recommended Articles The Library The Glossary FAQ Privacy Terms of Use Portal Login Copyright © 2021 Ridhwan Foundation 
work_3unudrk63fdmdnfvaqnpympesa	----	ajae_1294.tex Field Experiments in Food and Resource Economics Research (Brian Roe, Ohio State University, Organizer) CAN FIELD EXPERIMENTS RETURN AGRICULTURAL ECONOMICS TO THE GLORY DAYS? DAVID H. HERBERICH, STEVEN D. LEVITT, AND JOHN A. LIST As we contemplate the state of academic re- search in the agricultural economics commu- nity, there are two facts that are difficult to overlook. First, over roughly the first half of the twentieth century, scholars working on agri- cultural issues were the toast of the academy, setting forth an empirical research agenda that served to influence social and natural scientists profoundly. The seminal contributions made in these early years continue to shape important academic and policy debates. A second fact re- mains that this dominance has waned in the past several decades, with major empirical ad- vances now more likely in sister fields, such as labor economics or industrial organization. One piece of ocular evidence showing this decline is shown in figure 1, which reports the share of papers devoted to agricultural top- ics in four top economic journals over the period 1911–2000, quinquennially.1 In the ear- liest years more than 10% of papers in these four top journals were devoted to agriculture, with that share steadily falling through World War II. The share stayed roughly constant for David H. Herberich is a graduate student and research professional at University of Maryland and University of Chicago, Becker Cen- ter. Steven D. Levitt is the William B. Ogden Distinguished Service Professor, and John A. List is a professor, Department of Eco- nomics, University of Chicago, and NBER. Discussions with Bruce Gardner, Richard Just, and Marc Nerlove considerably enhanced the content of this paper. As usual, the authors are responsible for any errors, however. This article was presented in an invited paper session at the ASSA annual meeting in San Francisco, CA, January 2009. The articles in these sessions are not subjected to the journal’s standard refereeing process. 1 The journals are the American Economic Review, Economet- rica, Journal of Political Economy, and Quarterly Journal of Eco- nomics. For a more detailed description of our methodology for constructing figure 1, see the online appendix Herberich, Levitt, and List (2009). We understand that many approaches could be used to measure success of a field, and indeed, even under our approach one might argue that we include the wrong journals (Economic Journal, for example, played a significant role in the twentieth century and remains important today). We suspect that most, if not all, reasonable strategies will yield the general spatial pattern observed in figure 1. the next twenty years, before declining again to less than 1% of all papers by the end of the sample. In this study, we hypothesize on why agri- cultural economics played such a prominent role in economics for a long time, and why its importance has diminished more recently. We then provide one solution as to how agri- cultural economists can reverse this troubling trend and potentially return to a central place on the frontier of economic science: more ex- tensive use of field experiments. We view our solution as stemming from the roots of farm- ing, harkening back to Ralph Waldo Emerson who wrote: “The glory of the farmer is that, in the division of labors, it is his part to create.” Empirical Contributions of the Twentieth Century In this section, we briefly detail a select set of contributions that we view as seminal within the area of agriculture. From the outset, we concede that we cannot do this field justice due to space constraints so we limit our focus to briefly summarizing contributions of agri- cultural economists over the twentieth cen- tury. A useful starting point is the work of Fisher and Neyman, who were the first to conceptualize randomization as a key ele- ment of the experimental method in the 1920s and 1930s in answering important economic questions regarding agricultural productiv- ity (e.g., Splawa-Neyman 1990[1923]; Fisher 1926). Since Levitt and List (2008) discuss these contributions, we focus our study on sub- sequent decades, which witnessed agricultural economists making fundamental advances in regression analysis, including problems in- volving errors-in-variables and identification Amer. J. Agr. Econ. 91 (Number 5, 2009): 1259–1265 Copyright 2009 Agricultural and Applied Economics Association DOI: 10.1111/j.1467-8276.2009.01294.x 1260 Number 5, 2009 Amer. J. Agr. Econ. Note: The four Journals used are The Quarterly Journal of Economics, The American Economic Review, The Journal of Political Economy and Econometrica (begins 1933).Article by article search was done to determine if articles were related to Agriculture. Rejoinders, replies, restatements, comments orcorrections are omitted. The data was aggregated to 5-year periods begining in 1911 and running through 2000. Figure 1. Share of agricultural articles in four top economic journals problems concerning estimating elasticities of supply and demand (Fox 1986). The avail- ability of agricultural data during these years and the relevance of the estimation issues to agricultural questions are two possible expla- nations for why agricultural economists were early in addressing these issues. Other Early Empirical Contributions of the Twentieth Century Fox (1986) provides an important account of contributions that agricultural economists made to the areas of statistics and econo- metrics in the early half of the twentieth century. He mentions eight main agricultural economists during this time period: Louis H. Bean, Mordecai Ezekiel, Bradford B. Smith, Howard R. Tolley, Henry A. Wallace, Fred- erick V. Waugh, Holbrook Working, and E.J. Working as well as one economist working with agricultural commodities, Henry Schultz. A majority of these economists contributed to the field by playing a role in correctly address- ing identification issues resulting from sup- ply and demand analysis of agricultural data. However, more general work within multi- ple regression estimation was also being done by these scholars. For example, Tolley and Ezekiel (1923) initiated work toward expand- ing least squares estimation to multiple regres- sion. Ezekiel (1930) and Bean (1929) utilized graphical analysis to consider nonlinear im- pacts. Waugh (1935) increased the applicability of multiple regression by deriving matrix alge- bra computations. Working (1925) and Schultz (1925) recognized the attenuation bias that re- sults from the measurement error as early as 1925. Agricultural economists remained among the most prominent in the profession during the 1950s and 1960s. A pair of University of Chicago economists, Theodore Schultz and D. Gale Johnson, made lasting contributions to the field during this time period. Schultz’s early work dealt with agriculture in developed coun- tries, including issues of farm management. The work for which he was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1979, however, dealt with agriculture in developing countries. In particular, his re- search challenged the conventional view that traditional agriculture was not amenable to economic analysis because it was driven by tra- dition and culture rather than rational choices (Schultz 1964).2 Johnson’s contributions to agricultural economics spanned decades, be- ginning with his landmark analysis of the economics of share-cropping contracts (John- son 1950). His influential 1973 book World Agriculture in Disarray argued that govern- ment product and trademark interventions on 2 On arriving at the University of Chicago, one of the authors of this paper (Levitt) inherited the office that Ted Schultz had oc- cupied for decades. Upon hearing that Levitt was using Schultz’s office, the economist Sherwin Rosen lamented, “It’s too bad they gave you Ted’s office—all the good ideas in that office are already used up.” For a more detailed discussion of Schultz’s life and eco- nomic contributions, see Johnson (1999). Herberich, Levitt, and List Field Experiments in Agricultural and Resource Economics 1261 behalf of farmers had provided little real ben- efit to farmers. Even as an octagenarian, John- son continued to publish in leading economics journals (e.g., Johnson 2000). Other major players in this era include Marc Nerlove and Zvi Griliches. The collection of Nerlove’s papers in economics covers an extraordinarily wide range of topics, from adaptive expectations to spectral analysis to efficient methods of pooling time series of cross sections, but much of his work had agri- cultural applications or considerable implica- tions for agricultural analysis (e.g., Nerlove 1958; Balestra and Nerlove 1966). Although Zvi Griliches, who won the Clark medal just four years before Nerlove, is not principally thought of as an agricultural economist today, virtually all of his early work was on agri- cultural topics. This work included analyses of the demand for fertilizer and other inputs and most notably the diffusion of hybrid corn (Griliches 1957), which is the single most cited of his more than 200 papers. On the production economics front, Marschak and Andrews (1944) was seminal in combining first-order conditions with the production problem for estimation. Mundlak made important contributions along this line considering whether such systems involved simultaneous equation bias (Mundlak and Hoch 1965). This work provided a starting point for incredibly insightful refinements, particularly relevant to later agriculture work (e.g., Just and Zilberman 1983; Chambers and Just 1989). Another related area of study that has been influential more carefully considers implications of risk, such as Just and Pope (1978) and Chambers and Quiggin (2002). As mentioned, the availability of agricul- tural data as well as the relevance of the issues mentioned above to the types of ques- tions approached in agricultural economics are two possible explanations for why agricultural economists were early in addressing these is- sues. Further, during these formidable years, one aspect that separated the work of agri- cultural economists from the work of their economic counterparts may have been the former’s willingness to combine a strong theo- retical component with empirical analysis. As pointed out by Fox, Keynes lamented in 1917 that “to some economists the very idea of a mathematical treatment of economic problems is not only repugnant, but seems even absurd;” while Leontief assessed agricultural economics as “an exceptional example of a healthy bal- ance between theoretical and empirical analy- sis” (Leontief 1971, p. 5). Regardless of the underlying explanation, due to the cutting edge nature of the contributions in this field during this time period, major journals were common publishing outlets for agricultural work as noted earlier in figure 1. Later Empirical Contributions In aggregate, figure 1 suggests that agricul- tural economists of more recent generations have struggled to achieve the publishing suc- cess of their forebearers. One partial explana- tion, among many others, for this decline is that there has been an increased emphasis in top journals on empirical work that features plausibly exogenous sources of identification (i.e., “natural experiments”); this research ap- proach has been less frequently used by agri- cultural economists. There are, of course, many notable exceptions. For instance, Knoeber and Thurman (1994) use a plausibly exogenous shift in the contractual form of the incentive scheme facing producers of broiler chickens. A firm that purchased broilers switched from rewards based on the ordinal rank across pro- ducers to one that rewarded producers based on performance relative to the mean. Using this shift in compensation structures, the au- thors test the predictions of tournament the- ory, finding the data consistent with all of the testable predictions. A Path Forward Clearly, over the last third of the twenti- eth century, agricultural economists have not achieved the same level of publication success in these top journals as they had in earlier years. While our empirical analysis is limited to top general interest journal publications, we conjecture that this decline would be true un- der any of a broad number of metrics—faculty positions, quality and quantity of PhD stu- dents, share of federal grant monies, share of overall citations, etc. Our working hypothesis is that the combination of richer data sets com- ing on-line in sister fields—such as the large- scale data sets used today in labor economics— and issues in agricultural economics losing their relative cachet set forth the wheels of mo- tion to send senior scholars packing for more fertile fields and limited the attractiveness of the field of agricultural economics to the best young minds. There are several ways to proceed as a field. In one case, we can simply allow the market to 1262 Number 5, 2009 Amer. J. Agr. Econ. run its course, and perhaps in time our area will again become en vogue, perhaps in part driven by policy relevance, media relevance, or richer data sets of some sort being introduced. In some sense, we are observing this phenomenon now with the recent surge of research in global climate change amongst economists. A more active approach is to consider past successes and build on what seemed to work decades ago. As Levitt and List (2008) note and is recalled above, what might well be consid- ered the dawn of “field” experimentation was the work of Neyman and Fisher. Unfortu- nately, researchers in farm management in the 1950s and 1960s never connected their knowl- edge of the experimental method with labora- tory experiments using human subjects, which was at the very same time being pioneered by Vernon Smith at Purdue University (e.g., Smith 1962; this might be one reason for the subsequent demise of the farm management movement). Yet, there now might be a new train at the de- pot, perhaps providing agricultural economists with a unique second chance. While laboratory experiments have dominated the experimen- tal landscape in economics, the past decade has witnessed a significant surge in studies that gather data via field experiments. Field experi- ments in economics occupy an important mid- dling ground between laboratory experiments and studies making use of naturally occurring field data (see List 2006; Levitt and List 2008). This is beneficial because, on the one hand, economic theory is inspired by behavior in the field, so we would like to know if results from the laboratory domain are transferable to field environments. Further, field experiments al- low a search for similar causal effects using different identification assumptions than the strict assumptions necessary to achieve identi- fication using naturally occurring data. Harrison and List (2004) propose six fac- tors that can be used to determine the field context of an experiment: the nature of the subject pool, the information held by subjects, the commodity, the task or trading rules ap- plied, the stakes, and the environment in which the subjects operate. Using these factors, they discuss a broad classification scheme for field experiments, shown in figure 2, which helps or- ganize one’s thoughts about the factors that might be important when moving from the lab to the field. To date, field experiments across each of the three field experimental classifications—artifactual field experiments, framed field experiments, and natural field experiments—have shed insights on diverse areas through tests that pit neoclassical the- ory against prospect theory, that explore issues in cost/benefit analysis and preference elicita- tion, that explore competitive market theory in the field of alternative incentive schemes in developing nations, as well as tests of auction theory, the theory of private provision of public goods and of information assimilation among professional financial traders.3 So how does this growth in field experiments lend itself to agricultural economists? We speculate that the future of field experimen- tal methods can be importantly engineered by agricultural and resource economists. As Levitt and List (2008) discuss, one lesson learned from this most recent surge of field experimental research is that the researcher carrying out field experiments faces a set of challenges different from those that arise either in conducting laboratory experiments or relying on naturally occurring variation. The field experimenter does not exert the same degree of control over real markets as the scientist does in the lab. Yet, unlike an empiricist who collects existing data, the field experimenter is in the data generating business rather than data collection. Consequently, con- ducting successful field experiments demands a different set of skills from the researcher: the ability to recognize opportunities for experi- mentation hidden amidst everyday phenom- ena, an understanding of experimental design, knowledge of economic theory to motivate re- search and interpret empirical results, and pos- session of interpersonal skills to manage what are often complex sets of relationships involv- ing parties to an experiment. In this manner, agricultural economists have a comparative advantage in several factors in- strumental in conducting cutting-edge field ex- perimental research. First, existing extension programs provide specialists with a unique view of important everyday phenomena such as proposals for auctions to preserve conserva- tion land, new land use policies, insurance mar- kets, markets to hedge risk, and demand for new products. Many times, such ideas present themselves on the doorstep of extension spe- cialists long before they reach the “Ivory Tower.” Second, extension managers have the requisite interpersonal skills and knowledge of existing markets and market players to man- age the complex set of relationships involved in 3 See List’s website www.fieldexperiments.com, which contains a catalog of field experiments in these and several related areas. Herberich, Levitt, and List Field Experiments in Agricultural and Resource Economics 1263 Controlled Data Naturally Occurring Data ________________________________________________________________________ Lab AFE FFE NFE NE, PSM, IV, STR Lab: Lab experiment AFE: Artefactual field experiment FFE: Framed field experiment NFE: Natural field experiment NE: Natural experiment PSM: Propensity score estimation IV: Instrumental variables estimation STR: Structural modeling Note: This figure takes the field experimental classification scheme of Harrison and List (2004) and places it within other more traditional empirical approaches. Figure 2. Field experiments carrying out a clean experimental test. Finally, such an approach might better link extension specialists with theorists and statisticians who are trained in complementary research areas, yielding a much greater output than the sum of any of the inputs could yield in isolation. As in all such related cases, there is certainly avail- able human capital that will flock to such joint endeavors once the value of field experimen- tation is better recognized in this area. Such a research agenda, besides fostering important research links, has the capacity to lend important empirical insights into the types of theoretical models that best fit the data. Equally as important will be those cases in which the models are refuted by the data—in such instances, because the field experiments are able to collect enough facts to help con- struct new economic theories, there will be a healthy give and take between empiricists and theorists. Additionally, the field experiments in this area can measure key parameters that pro- vide economists with useful information and might lend insights into policymaking discus- sions. The underpinnings of such an approach are now being formed, as recent work across all three field experimental classifications in fig- ure 2 has begun in a fruitful direction.4 For 4 We only discuss a few here, but we would be remiss not to mention the work of Binswanger (1981), and the more recent work of Jayson Lusk (see, e.g., Lusk, Norwood, and Pruitt 2006). example, Schechter (2007b) evaluates risk and trust behavior using artifactual field experi- ments, finding that risk aversion explains a sub- stantial amount of decisions made by her group of Paraguayan farmers. Schechter (2007a) uti- lizes surveys that were run in conjunction with the experiments in Schechter (2007b) to pro- vide an interesting discovery of theft deter- rence: gift-giving, resulting in the formulation of a dynamic limited-commitment model on theft. Framed field experiments with farmers have also been used to inform policymakers, such as the auction work done by Cummings, Holt, and Laury (2003). The aforementioned au- thors began their research in response to The Flint River Drought Protection Act passed in Georgia in 2000, which mandated that an auction-like process for foregoing irrigation be implemented in years of drought. By running experimental auctions with farmers prior to the actual irrigation auctions, they were able to make suggestions on the auction design to make it more competitive and at the same time better understood by the participants. Examples of natural field experiments in this area also exist. For example in a partnership with the management of a leading fruit farm in the United Kingdom, Bandiera, Barankay, and Rasul (2005, 2006) use a natural field exper- iment to explore interesting economic ques- tions. Their subjects are farm workers, whose main task is to pick fruit. In one experiment, 1264 Number 5, 2009 Amer. J. Agr. Econ. workers were paid according to a relative in- centive scheme that provided a rationale for cooperation as the welfare of the group was maximized when workers fully internalize the negative externality that their effort placed on others. Bandiera, Barankay, and Rasul (2005) find that behavior is consistent with a model of social preferences when workers can be moni- tored, but when workers cannot be monitored, pro-social behaviors disappear. In their 2006 study, they find that individuals learn to coop- erate over time, both from their experience and from the experience of others. Together, these advances help us to understand workplace incentives. Conclusion Agricultural economics stands today at a cross- roads. Scholars working on agricultural issues once held a prominent role in conceptualiz- ing key empirical approaches that impacted the economics profession more generally. Yet the past several decades have witnessed other fields taking over central roles in the profes- sion. We hypothesize that this relative decline is due to the combination of richer data sets coming on-line in sister fields and the issues of agricultural economics losing their appeal. Yet, we do not view the situation as dire; rather, we advocate an active approach to returning to the roots of agricultural economics to help regain our relative footing. In this manner, we view agricultural economists possessing an enviable position to reestablish their place at the frontier of economic science. Though several years have passed since the Farm Management Move- ment was crushed, the time is ripe for theo- rists to combine with extension specialists to lend insights into both normative and posi- tive issues of the day. Years ago, there was not the methodological coherence and direc- tion that could be used by experimentalists on the farm; those days have passed. Agricul- tural economists can more easily combine the- ory and empirical work, taking advantage of their unique opportunities to execute field ex- periments. Whether such experiments revolve around exploring optimal incentive schemes of farm laborers in Europe, measuring de- mand elasticities for Bt cotton in the South, or examining farmers’ risk preferences in the Midwest, there is much to be done. In this way, agricultural economists have a clear route back to share the status of their subjects: substantial creation. References Balestra, P., and M. Nerlove. 1966. “Pooling Cross Section and Time Series Data in the Estimation of a Dynamic Model: The Demand for Natural Gas.” Econometrica 34(3):585–612. Bandiera, O., I. Barankay, and I. Rasul. 2005. “Social Preferences and the Response to In- centives: Evidence from Personnel Data.” Quarterly Journal of Economics 120(3):917– 62. ——. 2006. “The Evolution of Cooperative Norms: Evidence from a Natural Field Experiment.” B.E. Journal of Economic Analysis & Policy 6(2):Article 4. Bean, L.H. 1929. “A Simplified Method of Graphic Curvilinear Correlation.” Journal of the Amer- ican Statistical Association 24(168):386–97. Binswanger, H. 1981. “Attitudes toward Risk: Theo- retical Implications of an Experiment in Rural India.” Economic Journal 91:867–91. Chambers, R.G., and R.E. Just. 1989. “Estimating Multi-output Technologies.” American Journal of Agricultural Economics 7(4):980–95. Chambers, R.G., and J. Quiggin. 2002. “Optimal Producer Behavior in the Presence of Area- Yield Crop Insurance.” American Journal of Agricultural Economics 84(2):320–34. Cummings, R.G., C.A. Holt, and S.K. Laury. 2003. “Using Laboratory Experiments for Policy Making: An Example from the Georgia Irriga- tion Reduction Auction.” Working paper No. 06-14, Andrew Young School of Policy Studies Research Paper Series, September. Ezekiel, M. 1930. “The Sampling Variability of Linear Curvilinear Regressions: A First Ap- proximation to the Reliability of the Results Secured by the Graphic ‘Successive Approx- imation’ Method.” Annals of Mathematical Statistics 1(4):275–315. Fisher, R.A. 1926. “The Arrangement of Field Tri- als.” Journal of the Ministry of Agriculture of Great Britain 33:503–13. Fox, K. 1986. “Agricultural Economists as World Leaders in Applied Econometrics, 1917–1933.” American Journal of Agricultural Economics 68(2):381–6. Griliches, Z. 1957. “Hybrid Corn: An Exploration in the Economics of Technological Change.” Econometrica 2(4):501–22. Harrison, G.W., and J.A. List. 2004. “Field Ex- periments.” Journal of Economic Literature 42(4):1009–55. Herberich, D.H., S.D. Levitt, and J.A. List. 2009. “AJAE Appendix: Can Field Experiments Re- turn Agricultural Economics to the Glory Days?” Unpublished Manuscript. Available at: http://ageconsearch.umn.edu. Herberich, Levitt, and List Field Experiments in Agricultural and Resource Economics 1265 Johnson, D.G. 1950. “Resource Allocation under Share Contracts.” Journal of Political Economy 58(2):111–23. ——. 1973. World Agriculture in Disarray. London: Macmillan. ——. 1999. “Theodore William Schultz.” Biograph- ical Memoirs. 77:303–13. ——. 2000. “Population, Food, and Knowledge.” American Economic Review 90(1):1–14. Just, R.E., and R.D. Pope. 1978. “Stochastic Spec- ification of Production Functions and Eco- nomic Implications.” Journal of Econometrics 7(1):67–86. Just, R.E., and D. Zilberman. 1983. “Stochastic Structure, Farm Size and Technology Adoption in Developing Agriculture.” Oxford Economic Papers 35(2):307–28. Keynes, J.N. 1917. The Scope and Method of Political Economy. London: Macmillan. Knoeber, C.R., and W.N. Thurman. 1994. “Test- ing the Theory of Tournaments: An Empirical Analysis of Broiler Production.” Journal of La- bor Economics 12(2):155–79. Leontief, W. 1971. “Theoretical Assumptions and Nonobserved Facts.” The American Economic Review 61(1):1–7. Levitt, S., and J. List. 2008. “Field Experiments in Economics: The Past, The Present, and The Future.” NBER Working paper 14356, NBER, Cambridge, MA. List, J.A. 2006. “Field Experiments: A Bridge be- tween Lab and Naturally Occurring Data.” Advances in Economic Analysis and Policy 6(2):1747. Lusk, J.L., B. Norwood, and R. Pruitt. 2006. “Con- sumer Demand for a Ban on Subtherapeutic Antibiotic Use in Pork Production.” American Journal of Agricultural Economics 88:1015–33. Marschak, J., and W.H. Andrews. 1944. “Random Simultaneous Equations and the Theory of Production.” Econometrica 12(3,4):143–205. Mundlak, Y., and I. Hoch. 1965. “Consequences of Alternative Specifications in Estimation of Cobb-Douglas Production Functions.” Econo- metrica 33(4):814–28. Nerlove, M. 1958. “Adaptive Expectations and Cob- web Phenomena” Quarterly Journal of Eco- nomics 72(2):227–40. Schechter, L. 2007a. “Theft, Gift-giving, and Trust- worthiness: Honesty Is its Own Reward in Rural Paraguay” American Economic Review 97(5):1560–82. ——. 2007b. “Traditional Trust Measurement and the Risk Confound: An Experiment in Rural Paraguay.” Journal of Economic Behavior & Organization 62:272–92. Schultz, H. 1925. “The Statistical Law of Demand as Illustrated by the Demand for Sugar.” Journal of Political Economy 33(5):481–504. ——. 1928. The Statistical Laws of Demand and Sup- ply, with Special Application to Sugar. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Schultz, T. 1964. Transforming Traditional Agricul- ture. New Haven: Yale University Press. Smith, V. 1962 “An Experimental Study of Com- petitive Market Behavior.” Journal of Political Economy 70(2):111–37. Splawa-Neyman, J., 1990[1923]. “On the Appli- cation of Probability Theory to Agricultural Experiments. Essay on Principles. Section 9.” Statistical Science 5(4):465–472. Translated and edited bv D.M. Dabrowska & T.P. Speed from the Polish original, which appeared in Roczniki Nauk Rolniczyc, Tom X (1923): 1–51 (Annals ofAgricultura1 Sciences). Tolley, H.R., and M.J.B. Ezekiel. 1923. “A Method of Handling Multiple Correlation Problems.” Journal of the American Statistical Association 18(144):993–1003. Waugh, F.V. 1935. “A Simplified Method of Deter- mining Multiple Regression Constants.” Jour- nal of the American Statistical Association 30(192):694–700. Working, H. 1925. “The Statistical Determination of Demand Curves.” The Quarterly Journal of Economics 39(4):503–43. 
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work_3xb7vsv3ifak3iqbw3nlopszk4	----	SYMPOSIUM: THE POLITICS OF PHILANTHROCAPITALISM The Cultural Contradictions of Philanthrocapitalism David Bosworth Published online: 28 July 2011 # Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2011 Every excess causes a defect; every defect an excess. Ralph Waldo Emerson It is appropriate that Robin Rogers begins her informative essay on the state of philanthrocapitalism with a very large number — the 600 billion dollars in charitable donations promised by 40 über -rich Americans through the Giving Pledge; for both the current corporate culture whose private wealth feeds contemporary philanthropy and Bill Gates, the public figure who features most prominently in any account of the field, are deeply invested in the philosophical presumption that material quantity (as measured by goods produced, profits made, gross efficiencies achieved, effec- tive methods scaled) can reliably generate social quality. Because overall and in the end, more engenders better, the business of government (and most everything else, includ- ing scholarship, medicine, and public education) should be conducted in the manner of a corporate business — that is, by and for “the numbers.” This doctrine, which I have been calling quantiphilia, has so saturated American culture that, like any com- monsense belief, it now appears to be immune to effective critique. Despite a near total collapse of the global economy as generated by the egregious incompe- tence of corporate finance, the core notions of quanti- philia, including the idealization of corporate techniques, still dominate the position papers of our policy elite, and with our final assessment of value in all things now commonly defined as “the bottom line,” its logic has also succeeded in “monetizing” our everyday speech. The credo that more must equal better is crudely manifest in the super-sized meals that weigh down the trays in our fast-food restaurants, and in the super-sized cars and homes (faux chateaux) that were popular until the economy collapsed. Most relevant here, that credo can be counted in the super-sized pay days of our corporate CEOs and venture capitalists, whose astounding income is the source of the 600 billion pledged. There is, however, an alternative way of assessing social health and pursuing social quality, one that values harmony over sheer quantity, the complementary actions of homeostasis over the aggressive mechanisms of linear progress. This was the broader theme of that most American of philosophers, Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay “Compensation,” from which my epigraph has been taken. His assertion there that “every excess causes a defect; every defect an excess” highlights the irony that haunts recent assertions that philanthrocapitalism, as distinct from both democratic government and more traditional forms of philanthropy, can solve our social ills. For the excess, and so defect, most obvious in American society today is the severity of our economic inequality, which has dramatically increased over the last 40 years as the agenda of quantiphilia has taken hold. In 1970, the wealthiest 1% of Americans received 9.7% of the national income; now that number has surged to 23.7%, and the top one-tenth of that one percent (the targets of the Giving Pledge) receive 12.3%. America’s latest score of 45 on the Gini Index, which measures disparities in income distribution, is conspicuously worse than all our Western allies. These statistics matter because nations that suffer such economic disparities are more susceptible to the very social ills — cyclical poverty, early mortality, illegitimate births, poor test scores — that philanthrocapitalism now aims to cure. D. Bosworth (*) University of Washington, Box 35–4330, Seattle, WA 98195, USA e-mail: davidbos@u.washington.edu Soc (2011) 48:382–388 DOI 10.1007/s12115-011-9466-z In one sense, of course, the Giving Pledge is heeding Emerson’s principle of compensation, striving to restore social balance through self-conscious acts of generous giving. As the authors of that pledge, Bill Gates and Warren Buffet appear to be following an age-old moral imperative, one concisely expressed by Simone Weil: “If we know in what way society is unbalanced, we must do what we can to add weight to the lighter scale (Weil 1963).” What differentiates today’s efforts from earlier ones is the ideological presumption that the same techniques, manage- ment style, and value system that helped to generate the excessive income that is funding the pledge can also correct the social defects historically associated with income inequality. No individual can fully represent an entire movement, but as the wealthiest man in America and the most proactive of today’s philanthrocapitalists, Bill Gates comes close. A preliminary examination of the man’s stature, intentions, characteristic strategies, past accomplishments and current failures illustrates why a democratic citizenry might doubt this movement’s redemptive claims. The Royal Status of Today’s Philanthrocapitalist Businessmen and businesses are best placed to save the world. Bill Gates, speaking at Davos Although, born in revolt against a monarchy, America lacks an official royalty, our nation still possesses the same social and psychological needs that royalty has traditionally fulfilled. All complex societies require public figures that, drawing collective admiration, unify their otherwise diverse populations through symbolizing an underlying set of common aspirations. In a nation whose original intention was to replace the British aristocracy with a homegrown meritocracy, our high-achieving athletes, actors, musicians, and entrepreneurs are now elevated into a stratosphere of acclaim to fulfill that role. The fascination that accompanies their royal status, however, also tends to suspend effective evaluation, and their achievements in one field can lend them an authority unmerited in others. I am a long-time resident of Seattle, moving here in the year that Microsoft released the first version of its Windows franchise, and so I was an early witness to the royal spell that Gates can cast on public opinion. Melinda Gates’s first pregnancy was front page news here; charter boats coursing the inland waterways that both bound and bisect Seattle, include glimpses of the family’s lakefront estate on their tours; and in a local newspaper profile in the 1990s, Gates and his leading technology officer were actually compared to Plato and Aristotle. Such profiles are commonly puff pieces, of course, but however hyperbolic the praise, that gross equation of corporate success with philosophical wisdom did reflect the nation’s awed admiration of the man at a time when the release of Windows 95 was greeted as if it were a blockbuster movie or, yes, a royal marriage. More to the point here, that equation helps explain the political authority that Gates and his allies are now gaining to direct public policy on his pet issues of global health and national education reform, absent the usual requirement of holding public office. It is important to reflect on the true sources of this stature and the values they represent. In contrast to previous corporate icons like Henry Ford and Walt Disney, who, although equally fierce managers and competitors, were also masters at projecting a folksy, feel-good image of themselves and so, too, of the corporations that bore their names, Bill Gates — to his credit, perhaps — is not a natural salesman. (Case in point: he wanted to call their new graphical operating system Interface Manager and had to be convinced by his marketing director that Windows would be more appealing to consumers.) Indeed, despite the casual dress he prefers, Gates has always radiated a certain arrogance, the intellectual elitism of a technocrat who does not suffer critics, usually equated with fools, gladly. But what would be a fatal character flaw in any democratic politician has proven to be irrelevant in the case of the successful CEO. By dominating the race to market the next truly revolutionary technological advance, Gates made himself the wealthiest man in the world, and in a nation of Yankee engineers converted to quantiphilia, those numbers do matter. Where more is naturally presumed to be better, the most must mean the best. As the even less personable Mark Zuckerberg now appears to be doing, Gates became the secular hero of his generation by marrying technological how-to with managerial can-do to win the numbers game and score the most bucks. That this hero had yet to perform any good deeds in the charitable sense, that his original status was rooted in sheer self-interest rather than the self-sacrifice normally associat- ed with the heroic figure, were by then familiar ironies on the American scene. In a patterned performance first established by some of the plutocrats of the Gilded Age, Andrew Carnegie most prominently, a second act of material generosity would redeem the moral ambiguities of the first. Conspicuous philanthropy would compensate for cut-throat avidity. And once the ruling motive had flipped from acquisition to donation, it was simply presumed that the managerial success of the corporate magnate would reliably convert to the public good. This was the difference, after all, between a royal status bequeathed through an aristocracy and one achieved within a meritocracy. Having been tested in the competitive fires of the marketplace, our entrepreneurial billionaires had earned Soc (2011) 48:382–388 383 their status, and with their Machiavellian efficiencies now redirected to civic virtue, “the bottom line” of social improvement would surely spike. Yes, the ability to project a folksy self-image might help the cause, but like those brusque benefactors in Dickens’ novels, the philanthrocapitalist did not have to make-nice to do good. Quantifiable competence not vaporous charm was the trait that mattered most. And in the case of Bill Gates, who was better qualified to rescue public education than the broadly acknowledged smartest-man-in-the-room? The original Plato had founded the Academy; our latter-day version would rescue it from ruin. Monopolizing the Market of Ideas Unfortunately, this pretty narrative, wherein the technocrat- ic billionaire naturally becomes our cultural savior, does not hold up to scrutiny. The ideological presumption is that the donor’s philanthropic projects, like the commercial prod- ucts that made him wealthy, have been rigorously tested in a Darwinian marketplace where only the best ideas can survive. But whether or not this is even true of his corporate ventures (see below), it does not apply in practical fact to his philanthropic ones whose funding is dependent on the donor’s will alone. As a hands-on philanthrocapitalist, Gates insists that the initiatives of the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BMGF) are rooted in the objective analysis of the best experts in each field, but in most cases, the evaluators of those initiatives have been hired by either the foundation itself or its subsidiaries. As courtiers were given to flatter the king, today’s policy analysts have a vested interested in pleasing their patrons. In the words of Frederick Hess, director of education policy at the American Enterprise Institute, “academics, activists, and the policy community live in a world where philan- thropists are royalty” whose disapproval can result in the practical equivalent of professional defunding (Hess 2005). This is especially true with the BMGF which, like its founder in business, aims to dominate every field it enters. In 2008, the New York Times reported that the chief of the malaria program for the World Health Organization, Dr. Arata Kochi, had “complained that the growing dominance of malaria research by the BMGF risks stifling diversity of views among scientists and wiping out the health agency’s policy-making function (McNeil 2008).” When the same foundation chose to promote smaller American schools from 2000–2008, it did so with a vengeance to similar effect. “Gates funding was so large and widespread,” writes education advocate Michael Klonsky, “it seemed for a time as if every initiative in the small-schools and charter world was being underwritten by the foundation. If you wanted to start a school, hold a meeting, organize a conference, or write an article in an education journal, you had to consider Gates (Klonsky 2011).” Nor, with a few notable exceptions, can we count on the mainstream press to fulfill its usual watchdog role. According to Hess, when Gates gave a major speech on public education to the nation’s governors in 2005, of the 44 newspaper stories that covered it, “not one questioned his assessment or critiqued his recommendations.” A subsequent analysis of the press coverage of all the major foundations who support public education reform found that the ratio of positive to negative stories was 13 to 1.1 The reasons for this arrant favoritism include the usual American obsequiousness to the royalty of the super wealthy, a general sense that it is rude to criticize large- scale acts of generosity, and the press’s dependence on the same policy experts who have been co-opted by the foundations in question. Thanks, ironically, to the corporate incompetence that triggered the Great Recession, this monopolizing of public opinion by corporately earned money is only likely to get worse. As government funding for medical and social research shrinks, the experts’ dependence on foundation money soars, and, desperate for funds, local school districts cannot easily resist the national reform initiatives now be dictating by billionaire donors with no local connections. Meanwhile, as the old economic model for journalism collapses, the BMGF has stepped in there as well. A recent (and rare) investigative report by the Seattle Times revealed that the foundation had contributed over 69 million dollars since 2002 to news organizations and journalism schools “to promote coverage of its central issues: global health, development, and education (Doughton and Heim 2011).” The media outlets supported include PBS’s News Hour and Frontline, NPR, ABC, and The Guardian in England. Although these recipients routinely deny being directly influenced by the foundation, their very dependence on the money places them in the same subservient position as the policy experts who have been paid to evaluate the foundation’s programs. On the political front, it is illegal for charitable organizations to contribute directly to individual candidates, but that did not stop Gates and Eli Broad of the Broad Foundation from spending 60 million dollars on a public information campaign before the 2008 election, with the aim of influencing both parties to adopt their shared agenda for education reform. Robin Rogers argues for the separation of philanthroca- pitalism from public policy-making, but on the subjects that matter most to Gates, that battle appears to have been lost. With their “partners” in policy, journalism, and both local and national politics secured, the BMGF and its primary allies on school reform, the Broad Foundation and the 1 Hess, pp. 10–12. 384 Soc (2011) 48:382–388 Walton Family Foundation (the Walmart clan), have now leveraged a relatively tiny investment — less than one percent of the monies spent each year on public education — into a commanding position. The public still pays most of the bills, but it is the philanthrocapitalist who, increasingly, sets the agenda. The climax of this leveraged takeover occurred with Obama’s selection of Arne Duncan to lead the Department of Education (DOE). As the “CEO”of Chicago’s troubled public schools (note the conversion to corporate terminol- ogy characteristic of quantiphilia), Duncan had already implemented a reform program, Renaissance 2010 (Ren10), that was based on the BMGF’s how-to guide, The Turnaround Challenge, and supported by 90 million dollars of the foundation’s money. At the DOE Duncan has championed the same guide as the “bible” of reform, and integrated its goals — charter schools, performance-based pay for teachers, national testing standards, and the power to effect a “turnaround” by firing the staff of low- performing schools — into his Race to the Top initiative, which has used federal money from the “stimulus package” as an incentive to state governments to conform to the same agenda. That temptation was then sweetened by the BMGF which offered both money and professional guidance to the states that were applying, and with the federal government now joining Gates’s other paid partners in policy analysis and the media, his domination in the field of school reform is nearly complete. None of this should seem surprising. “Nature [may] hate monopolies,” as Emerson also wrote in “Compensation,” but capitalism certainly does not. Especially in eras of technological change, only an aggressive application of antitrust regulations will prevent a few corporations from acquiring a stranglehold on whole new segments of our political economy. Just as Carnegie’s U.S. Steel and John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil monopolized the then new industries of steel and petroleum production, Microsoft has monopolized the PC software industry. Gates made his enormous fortune less by product innovation than by cleverly and ruthlessly dominating his industry’s distri- bution system — that is, by eliminating the very competition that is supposed to spur technological improvement; and in the new era of hands-on giving, he has now been applying the same tactics to his second career as a philanthrocapitalist. Having installed Windows in some 90% of today’s PCs, Gates is on the verge now of defining the default “operating system” for public education as well. The fate imposed on most independent software developers and PC manufac- turers in the 1990s is now being faced by professional educators: to enter the game at all, they will have to play by the rules established by the Gates, Broad and Walton foundations, as defined in their grant initiatives, training conferences, and how-to guides, and as enforced by their latter-day minions in government like Arne Duncan. Hewing to the quantiphilia characteristic of mass manu- facturing, those rules will insist on running our schools by and for the numbers, overvaluing abstract testing and scaling their favorite strategies to standardize educational “production” from coast to coast. The practical effect will be the technocratic elimination of local control over public schools — all pursued, of course, “with the best of intentions” and without any real concern as to the impact on democratic initiative. Given the authors of such a “turnaround” agenda, these results too should not prove shocking. Total authority, after all, is what monopolists usually seek, and for technocratic managers, rote measures of productivity routinely replace the less quantifiable standards of effective citizenship. The usurpation of local control has been a longstanding theme of our corporate economy, evident, for example, in the replacement of the family farm by agribusiness. And whether one believes such a result is desirable, it is certainly logical that the same vested owners whose big- box Walmarts have been displacing local retailers are now funding, through their tax-sheltered foundation, an equiv- alent disempowerment of local educators. Grade Inflation: the Philanthromonopolist’s Immunity to Failure The Royals go on and on, that’s what they do. They are not sackable. — an unnamed cabinet officer, commenting on the embarrassing behavior of Prince Andrew So what?, the editors of Forbes and the attendees of the World Economic Forum at Davos are likely to respond. In a global economy, we cannot afford a nostalgic allegiance to the archaic virtues of the local school board. In our digital era, the price of progress is perpetual change; education must lead the way; and with a GPS for a mind and his eyes laser-locked on the bottom line, the high-tech businessman “is best placed to save the world” by designing an education “delivery system” for the 21st century. No one would deny that we are being changed and challenged by our new technologies. But do the members of the Good Club really Know Better? Is their status as the wealthiest even a reliable reflection of their actual accom- plishments in the technological sphere, much less in the social arenas where their venture philanthropy now invades? Consider Microsoft. The company’s impressive profits (circa 4.5 billion in 2010) are still primarily dependent on its Windows franchise, whose quality as an operating system has long been attacked by technophiles. Soc (2011) 48:382–388 385 Wherever one stands on that issue, it is clear that the company has missed almost every significant development in the field since early nineties, failing to be either first or best, for example, with the web browser, the search engine, and the digital music player. Its current clumsy entry into the newest “new things” on the digital scene, cloud computing and social networking, may yet lead to a decline in market share. Irrespective of that outcome, any thorough evaluation of Microsoft’s performance would have to conclude that, under Gates’s formal and informal leadership, the company has thrived financially not due to its ongoing prophetic excellence but its longstanding monopoly status. For similar reasons, the BMGF’s performance as an effective agent of social betterment has been mixed at best. Here, as Dr. Kochi’s complaint suggests, there may even be weaknesses in those fields, like disease prevention, that are susceptible to what Robin Roger’s calls “evidence-based solutions.” But on the more socially complex subject of education reform, there is no such ambiguity: rarely has so much influence been granted to an institution whose actual track record has been so dismal. From 2000–2008 the BMGF poured up to 2 billion dollars into its small schools project. The plan created over 2600 new schools in 45 states across the nation, with the expectation that these smaller “learning communities” would rapidly boost test achievement. And yet they did not — at which point, undeterred by the enormity of the failure, Gates announced a second initiative, the turnaround agenda, pursuing it with same aggressive zeal as the first. The allure of the entrepreneur as social prophet has been fueled by his supposed mastery of those elusive numbers that our scientific studies relentlessly produce, but while Gates’s reforms are based on his interpretations of research data, the quality of those readings is frequently suspect. There was, in fact, little credible evidence to support his enormous investment in the small-schools project. (The statistician Howard Wainer of the Wharton School suspects that Gates misinterpreted statistical studies of school performance (Golden 2010)). Now, in the light of his first project’s failure, Gates has reversed course in some respects. Great teachers, he has decided make the most difference, and his new solution is to add six students to the best teachers’ classrooms, using the money saved to increase those teachers’ salaries. It is an arrangement, he insisted, citing BMGF- supported research in his latest speech to the nation’s governors, that the teachers themselves would gladly support. Here, too, however, his grasp of the numbers has proven shaky. Some fact-checking by the Seattle Times discovered that what the study in question actually found is that teachers would prefer a $5,000 raise to having two fewer students — they were never asked about accepting more (Westneat 2011). Nor does the undiminished support for charter schools by the Gates, Broad, Walton alliance have a sound basis in the data. A 2010 analysis of Milwaukee’s Parental Choice Program, the longest-lived and most extensive charter school and voucher program in the nation, found no significant difference in achievement growth rates between pupils in the choice program and those in public schools.2 A 2009 study of charter schools in 16 states, conducted by Stanford’s Center for Research on Educational Outcomes, asserted that, in the aggregate, charter school students were faring worse (New Stanford Report Finds Serious Quality Challenge in Nation s Charter Schools http credo stanford edu reports National_Release). And although 2010 was the year that Duncan’s Ren10 revival of the Chicago’s public schools was supposed to prove its worth, an extensive investigation by the Chicago Tribune, “Daley School Plan Fails to Make the Grade,” found otherwise. What proves disturbing here is not that experiments have been tried but the scope and pace of their institution, the rush to nationalize reforms that have either yet to be proven or have even been shown to be largely ineffective. Denying reality is not the hallmark of an entrepreneur committed to “evidence-based solutions”; it is the sign of an ideologue who is cushioned from consequences by money, connec- tions, and public acclaim. It does not seem to matter that Gates keeps misinterpreting the data or that his programs keep failing to “make the grade.” Under the turnaround agenda, which is now our national policy, the staffs of struggling schools will continue to be fired while the philanthrocapitalist whose own reforms have failed will, nevertheless, continue to dictate the direction of change. To paraphrase F. Scott Fitzgerald, today’s plutocrats are not like you and I; nor do they resemble the politicians we elect. Even when they assume the authority to set public policies, they are, I fear, not sackable. Cultural Contradictions In changing moon, in tidal wave, Glows the feud of Want and Have. Emerson Market-based capitalism can be enormously creative in the material sense, but it is a categorical error to presume, as quantiphilia does, that the techniques for boosting productiv- ity in the corporate world can be successfully transferred to the public arena. Human beings are not “upgradeable” machines; standardized tests can only measure a very narrow slice of intellectual achievement; workers in public education and public health bring a different ratio of motivations to their jobs 2 See Murray (2010) 386 Soc (2011) 48:382–388 than those in the private sector; insomuch as it emphasizes top-down expertise over on-the-ground experience and competition over collaboration (it is a race to the top, after all), the Turnaround Challenge is not even attuned to the latest developments in the digital world, where wiki software has been engendering whole new ways of doing business, science and scholarship: for these reasons and others, the current template for reforming the nation’s schools is bound to fail, both on its own narrow terms and ones more vital to the health of our democracy. The education agenda now being imposed by the venture philanthropists led by Gates refuses to acknowledge, much less redress, some other powerful causative factors. As Allan Ornstein has noted in this publication, there is a wealth of data “showing that the most important variable related to student achievement is the child’s family background and the second most important factor is the peer group (Ornstein 2010).” I have already mentioned the threats associated with our rapidly growing inequality in income distribution. Framed differently, poverty has a well- known inverse relationship to academic performance, and the percentage of impoverished American students is nearly double that of any other industrialized country, between 21% and 25%, by Ornstein’s account — a difference which in itself can explain most of the achievement gap between American students and those in Western Europe. Unem- ployment, broken families, excessive TV and internet consumption, lead and mercury pollution, malnutrition, obesity-induced diabetes, restless mobility (moving from school to school as parents try regain an economic foothold) are other known or likely socio-economic factors associated with low achievement. Any reform movement truly interested in improving student performance would commit itself to rooting out the sources of these often interrelated social ills. Here, however, is where the cultural contradictions of philanthrocapitalism become most obvious, for even as its proponents insist on a strict accountability in the public sphere, they refuse to review the broader social impact of the economic system that has been providing their own excessive compensation. The efficiencies that commend industrial pollution, the downsiz- ing of the white-collar workforce to boost shareholder value, the evisceration of whole communities as plants and services have been sent overseas: the very ethos of rationalization they now would impose on public schools has been complicit in creating social conditions inimical to student achievement. Eli Broad announced in 2004 that, due to the “crisis” he spied in public education, America was “in danger of becoming a second-class nation (Richard Lee Colvin).” But given that Broad made his billions in real estate and finance, his reformist zeal might have been more effectively aimed at the private industries that he knew best, which were then in the midst of generating the same spectacular economic collapse whose aftereffects now threaten public education with its greatest crisis in many decades. Performance-based pay may be an interesting concept, but it is apparently not applicable to Wall Street whose financial giants “punished” their upper-level employees with 18.4 billion dollars in bonuses in the same year the federal government was bailing them out. Attending to the health of the Third World poor is surely a commendable mission, but as the Los Angeles Times reported in 2007, the BMGF is also heavily invested in corporations whose industrial pollution in the Niger Delta is harmful to its residents’ respiratory health – the same residents the foundation was supplying with vaccinations. Nor was this an isolated instance. The Times report concluded that”the foundation reaps vast financial gains every year from invest- ments that contravene its good works,” and this conflict between the aims of its charitable grant (preventing illness) and the actions of its endowment holdings (causing illness) captures the moral incoherence at the core of philanthrocapi- talism more generally (Piller 2007) . As Americans, we have had to live with a core contradiction built into our political economy since the Industrial Revolu- tion: namely, that the wealth-producing engine of corporate capitalism can also generate severe social inequalities that threaten the very basis of democratic governance. Along with regulation, taxation, unionism and religious charities, tradi- tional philanthropy by the very wealthy was one way of easing that contradiction by adding “weight to the lighter scale.” Included in that traditional offering was a tacit admission that giving back to the community was a compensation for the collateral injustices produced by the system. Venture philan- thropy, however, is a different species. Rather than simply offering a compensation for the systems’ flaws, it also demands a conversion to that same system’s philosophy. Only if we submit to their ideological authority by accepting their quantiphilia will their funds be forthcoming. As such, these are not acts of material generosity so much as ones of intellectual and managerial hubris. The current leveraged takeover of public education by the moneyed few, as endorsed and enforced by first Bush’s and now Obama’s federal bureaucracy, brings us a very long way from G.K. Chesterton’s claim that “the democratic faith is this: that the most terribly important things must be left to ordinary men themselves.... (Chesterton et al. 1990)” We should not delude ourselves that the competence of the plutocrat warrants this surrender of our ordinary authority. On the subject of education, Bill Gates is not even close to being the smartest-man-in-the-room; he is merely the wealthiest and the most willful — someone far more adept at monopolizing power than creating social value. Ever the optimist, Emerson had faith in “the deep remedial force that underlies all facts”: that “the varieties of conditions” do, in the end,”tend to equalize themselves.” In the social sphere, however, that process of compensation can assume many forms, some far more desirable than others. There is a Soc (2011) 48:382–388 387 growing “feud between Want and Have” in the world today, fueled by excessive discrepancies in wealth and power. And as the “tidal wave” of revolutionary change now sweeping across the Middle East ought to remind us, the surest route to “becoming a second-class nation” is to allow a self-selected few to dominate the governance of the many. References Chesterton, G. K. 1990. Orthodoxy: The Romance of Faith. Doubleday, p. 47. Colvin, R. L. 2005. A New generation of philanthropists and their great ambitions” in With the Best of Intentions, p. 27. Doughton, S. & Heim, K. 2011. Does Gates funding of media taint objectivity? Seattle Times. Golden, D. 2010. Bill Gates School Crusade,” Bloomberg Businessweek. Hess, F. M. (ed). 2005. With the Best of Intentions: How Philanthropy Is Reshaping K-12 Schools. Harvard Eduation Press, p. 9. Klonsky, M. 2011. Power Philanthropy. In The Gates Foundation and the Future of Public Schools. Routledge, p. 26. McNeil Jr D. G. 2008. Gates foundation influence criticized. New York Times. Murray, C. 2010. Why charter schools fail the test. New York Times. “New Stanford Report Finds Serious Quality Challenge in Nation’s Charter Schools”: http://credo.stanford.edu/reports/ National_Release.pdf Ornstein, A. 2010. Achievement Gaps in Education. Society. Piller, C., Sanders, E., & Dixon, R. 2007. Dark clouds over good works of Gates Foundation. Los Angeles Times. Weil, S. 1963. Gravity and Grace. Routledge, p. 151. Westneat, D. 2011. Bill Gates, have I got a deal for you! Seattle Times. David Bosworth is the author of two prize-winning books of fiction and numerous essays on cultural change in America. He was a senior consulting scholar for the Thrift Project, a million-dollar multidisciplinary study directed by the Institute for Advanced Cultural Studies, and currently teaches in the University of Washington’s Creative Writing Program, where he was Director for five years. All quotes by Emerson are from his essay “Compensation.” 388 Soc (2011) 48:382–388 http://credo.stanford.edu/reports/National_Release.pdf http://credo.stanford.edu/reports/National_Release.pdf The Cultural Contradictions of Philanthrocapitalism The Royal Status of Today’s Philanthrocapitalist Monopolizing the Market of Ideas Grade Inflation: the Philanthromonopolist’s Immunity to Failure Cultural Contradictions References << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /None /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (Gray Gamma 2.2) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (ISO Coated v2 300% \050ECI\051) /sRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CannotEmbedFontPolicy /Error /CompatibilityLevel 1.3 /CompressObjects /Off /CompressPages true /ConvertImagesToIndexed true /PassThroughJPEGImages true /CreateJDFFile false /CreateJobTicket false /DefaultRenderingIntent /Perceptual /DetectBlends true /DetectCurves 0.0000 /ColorConversionStrategy /sRGB 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work_3yzznhchcvgwbfzkhgey6dmq5e	----	Toward a More PerfecT Union Kimberly engber david wyatt. Secret Histories: Reading Twentieth-Century American Literature. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2010. vii + 400 pages. Notes, works cited, and index. $35.00. Jennifer rae Greeson. Our South: Geographic Fantasy and the Rise of National Literature. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2010. vii + 356 pp. Illustrations, figures, notes, and index. $39.95. At the end of a semester of teaching, I felt fortunate to come across David Wyatt’s Secret Histories because Wyatt so clearly delights in American fiction. Gently encouraging readers to listen and to participate in the intimate rela- tionships revealed by American writers, Wyatt is most like Leslie Fiedler, who famously calls out to readers in the assumed voice of Mark Twain’s Jim to “come back to the raft agin, Huck honey” (the title of Fielder’s 1948 article). Jennifer Rae Greeson also urges readers familiar with American literature and literary tropes to anticipate intimate encounters. In Our South, Greeson uncovers an intranational consciousness at work in the United States. She shows how eighteenth- and nineteenth-century U.S. writers represent the South as “an enemy within,” as she titles one of her chapters. Both Wyatt and Greeson place family romance at the center of American history. While these two writers cover different periods in American history and, for the most part, approach fictional material with different methodologies, each reflects in some way a spatial turn in American Studies. Each argument hinges on the question of how national spaces have been imagined by American writers. Greeson refers explicitly to connections among geography, literature, and social forms. Wyatt employs spatial vocabulary more sparingly and most often within his discussions of gender and race in American fiction. Early in his wide-ranging argument, Wyatt makes the tantalizing assertion that “the history of the novel could be said, in fact, to constitute the secret his- tory of the origin and course of love” (p. 20). He perceives twentieth-century American writers as continuing the struggle toward union that began with the nation’s founding documents. Although connected by a fundamentally Ameri- can preoccupation with how and to what extent disparate peoples can share one Reviews in American History 40 (2012) 282–288 © 2012 by The Johns Hopkins University Press 283enGBer / Toward a More Perfect Union national identity, the writers in Wyatt’s study respond to distinct political and personal concerns. Some search for a balance between work and relationships, some struggle against the incorporation of America, and some represent war as a force that dehumanizes even as it creates new possibilities for empathy (p. xi). The chapter titles refer to familiar concepts that Wyatt groups under the umbrella term “love”—among them “Double-Consciousness,” “Pioneer- ing Women,” “Performing Maleness,” “The Depression,” “The Postmodern,” and “Slavery and Memory.” These descriptive headings signal Wyatt’s goals: to offer a collection of arguments that leads readers back to the books them- selves and to uncover the conversations, actual or intertextual, among these seemingly disparate writers. Thankfully, we have come to a moment when there is “no longer any way to read the greatest white American novelists of the twentieth century except through the greatest black American novelist of the twentieth century” (p. 333), and our intertextual reading need not stop with William Faulkner and Toni Morrison. Their interrelationship suggests to Wyatt a way of reading all of American literature. In one of the most interesting chapters, “Love and Separateness,” atten- tive readings link Eudora Welty, Mary McCarthy, and John Steinbeck to Betty Friedan’s Feminine Mystique. Citing the “decline in the power of women in the public world” after World War II, Wyatt reads Steinbeck’s Cathy Trask in East of Eden as a modern woman who defies the “temptations” of an ideology of femininity (pp. 210–11). Yet he is a reluctant champion of this character because she cannot balance love and separateness. In this, she is different from Welty’s prewar female characters who, like men, can run away from home. Perhaps more so than men, Welty’s women tend to return, and many of these returns constitute a kind of reconciliation to the idea of what Wyatt, quoting Mary McCarthy, calls “the otherness of a separate being” (p. 192). In examining what constitutes this separateness, Wyatt briefly considers the spatial dimension of gender roles. He emphasizes the “space, which we cannot see” in Welty’s “A Still Moment”: the houseboat where the main character, Jenny, has been secured by a group of fisherman. Jenny’s experience and the space that con- tains her are represented only by the “harsh human sounds” of the fishermen who “come in to her” (Welty quoted in Wyatt, p. 193). It is represented only by what escapes. Not seeing, in Wyatt’s estimation of Welty, affords readers and writer the freedom “to structure the nature of our own response” (p. 193). Spaces of intimate encounter hidden from sight become opportunities. As appealing as this reading of Welty as an exemplar of a kind of prewar female liberation may be, it elides the horrors found in Welty’s homes and avoids the real issue of whether or not women’s experiences, particularly experiences of sexual injustice, can yet be represented. Wyatt reads Welty’s depictions of rape and violence against women as given “a lightness that disarms them of their stigmatizing power” (p. 190). This reading is supported by several Welty reViewS in aMerican HiSTorY / JUne 2012284 characters who express a belief in the countervailing power of response to determine the meaning of an event. In emphasizing response, Welty shifts the story away from a male consciousness and away from male control, but she never successfully elaborates a female consciousness. The experience of rape is spatialized and auditory rather than embodied. So, as much as Welty places rape on a continuum of “things done to the self,” as Wyatt puts it, she also points to the absence of women’s bodily response in her stories, a prob- lem that Wyatt cannot recognize. Instead, he turns to Hemingway as a lens through which, briefly, to see Welty’s women. Beginning a paragraph with an isolated, unexamined quotation from For Whom the Bell Tolls—”Nothing is done to oneself that one does not accept”—Wyatt distracts us from the focus on Welty and suggests a connection that he does not explain (p. 194). This example reveals a simultaneous strength and weakness of Wyatt’s style of argumentation. The wonderful interweaving of authors sometimes leads to tantalizing juxtapositions—like Hemingway and Welty—that are left for the reader to unpack. This habit of leaving the structure of the argument open to readers oc- casionally leads Wyatt to miss the opportunity to analyze how history has been constructed. Historical events and legal or political actions—ranging from the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 to the Vietnam War, from the 1863 draft riots to postindustrial capitalism—provide context rather than parallel text. For instance, Wyatt mentions the Chinese Exclusion Act as a framework for Edith Maude Eaton’s “Mrs. Spring Fragrance,” a short story published in 1912 under the pseudonym Sui Sin Far. Politics breaks through this otherwise domestic narrative when, in one sentence of dialogue in the middle of the story, the husband of the title character reveals that his brother is being held in detention in California. We never learn what happens, as Wyatt points out. Instead, the narrator follows Mrs. Spring Fragrance on her journey to private happiness, happiness achieved “within the ongoing and glossed-over pain of an unresolved political conflict” (p. 38). Wyatt reads this as a “profoundly American solution” that is at the same time exemplary of modern and modern- ist women’s fiction. He argues that Far can only “imagine a partial adjustment in the province of the ‘real.’” She shows how sexual politics has begun to be addressed within the home in early to mid–twentieth century America, but racial politics “remain unredressed” (p. 38). Men like Mr. Spring Fragrance begin to listen to their wives. No similar audience is offered for the political prisoner, so his story remains untold. Far’s story is haunted by the unseen and unrepresented space of the bar- racks on Angel Island, San Francisco, where Chinese persons seeking entry into the United States were held as prisoners in the early twentieth century. Wyatt reminds us that “over the decades, the walls of these barracks filled up with poems, protests against having dreams of a new country end with 285enGBer / Toward a More Perfect Union confinement” (p.38). Soon after this lyrical description of walls that tell frag- mented stories, Wyatt jumps to a discussion of Gertrude Stein, but he leaves it to the reader to make the connection between Stein’s verbal camouflage and these imprisoned poems. He observes that “Stein does not conceive of language, then, as a prison-house by which we are constrained. It is more like Conrad’s destructive element in which we must immerse ourselves. Then the deep, deep sea will keep us up. Like water, like air, language precedes us and makes life possible” (p. 43). From Stein he draws the conclusion that “we live in a vale of collective language-making.” Placing Far and Stein so close together may suggest that both tend to avoid the overtly political in their pursuit of more domestic forms of liberation. Wyatt simply includes them both under the category “Pioneering Women,” and he surrounds them with the reassurance that twentieth-century men are learning to listen to women and that male writers like William Carlos Williams believe in the “renovat- ing effect of a passionate love” for place. Rather than linking Cather to Stein and Far through their shared awareness of how words become “marked by place,” as his own evidence suggests, he connects Cather and Stein by their “shared sexual preference,” and relies upon Williams to articulate Cather’s tie to the West as distinct from the expatriate Stein or the immigrant Far (p. 44). For Wyatt, American history is so bound up with the concept of union that literature cannot help but become dominated by this metaphor. Love ultimately defines the effort of reading or what Wyatt calls an “attempt to achieve empa- thetic union with a text” (p. xi). Wyatt celebrates an ever-changing American tradition and emphasizes the responsibility of the reader to learn through literature to move toward the future by listening to the past. If Phillip Roth and Elizabeth Bishop both ultimately offer a hopeful vision, as Wyatt argues in his final analysis, it is through their shared willingness to embrace the lessons of a contradictory history and thus to prepare readers to do the same (p. 330). Jennifer Rae Greeson reflects a similarly contradictory history more di- rectly in her methodology. Interested in how fantasy precedes social reality and predicts certain kinds of political bodies, Greeson assesses images of the southern United States that “emerge in national literature decades before the rise of North/South political sectionalism” (p. 11). She writes as a cultural historian. She analyzes newspaper stories, private correspondence, political tracts, and fictional texts to show how literary work both reflects and reforms other discourses. This literary emergence of the South suggests to Greeson “a great deal about how imaginative literature can set the horizons of possibility for a culture” (pp. 11–12). There is no “real” South, according to Greeson— which is not to say that there is no material place. Rather, the South makes sense only if we understand how our idea of it has been constructed out of a Western imperial “ordering of the globe” (p. 10). Greeson proposes three versions of the South and three corollary epochs in the development of the reViewS in aMerican HiSTorY / JUne 2012286 United States, and she divides her argument along these lines: The Plantation South and Nationalization; The Slave South and Industrialization and Expan- sion; The Reconstruction South and the Question of Empire. Paradigms familiar to American Studies scholars are given greater depth through Greeson’s analysis. Like David Reynolds in his classic work Beneath the American Renaissance: The Subversive Imagination in the Age of Emerson and Melville (1988), Greeson reads “beneath” canonical literature to find how popu- lar culture and literary culture intertwined; how newspapers, textbooks, and fictions echoed and altered one another’s language. She takes up the concept of the American farmer, the emergence of the antislavery narrative, the ques- tion of republican manhood, and what she calls “the imperial romance” of Reconstruction. The subjugation of the South is “a matter of the heart,” Greeson wryly declares in one of her final chapters (p. 282). She has prepared us to accept this reading by her careful tracing of the rise of national literature as a geographic narrative, structured by “the founding juxtaposition” between the new modern republic and an aristocratic and primitive South (p. 13). In crude terms, the South is figured again and again as the body in relation to the developing Northern mind. As one of the best examples of the unfolding of this geographic fantasy, Greeson offers the antislavery narrative and a compelling reading of William Lloyd Garrison’s abolitionist newspaper and Lydia Maria Child’s confrontation with the contradictions of modernization. More a rupture than an evolution, antislavery rhetoric growing in popularity in the 1830s represents “the Slave South” as violent and licentious, borrowing the exposé mode employed by reformers determined to reveal “pervasive hidden vice” in new urban envi- ronments (p. 124). The form of the city suggests the form of the exposé: It is more spatial than temporal, organized as a catalogue of vignettes that together form a coherent whole. This is an apt description of a didactic text as a kind of social scientific monograph; and indeed, Greeson concludes that the creation of the Slave South in antislavery tracts also marked the “beginning of a new novelistic mode, characterized by an omniscient narrator who functioned as moral geographer for the reader” (p. 144). This formulation is an elegant ex- tension of Raymond Williams’ insight, in The County and the City (1973), that new urban spaces necessitate a new literary form (p. 134). The question of form intersects a question of gender, as Greeson shows in her discussion of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Again, Greeson recalls familiar American Studies paradigms—in this case, republican manliness. She offers a careful textual analysis and generates a web of connections from the literary to the popular and political. Greeson turns to Emerson to further explore the troubled U.S. republic of the mid–nineteenth century in terms of its “disastrous want of men.” When Emerson identifies this problem in his 1844 address on “Emancipation in the British West Indies,” he ties gendered behavior to the 287enGBer / Toward a More Perfect Union as-yet-unrealized goal of abolition, ascribing the moral weakness of the U.S. to what he describes as effeminate political representation. In contrast to the “very amiable and very innocent representatives and senators at Washington,” Emerson imagines a more manly expansion of the English imperial model (Emerson quoted in Greeson, p. 156). He imagines a government both cen- tralized and dislocated, and, as Greeson observes, he “calls for New England to assert ‘mastery’ over its enduring South as the solution to the untenable sectionalist stand off between the Industrial North and the Slave South” (p. 159). He represents metropolitan Boston as the inheritor of benevolent imperial governance, defining it temporally—as progress more than place. Greeson recasts Emerson as a moral imperialist who seeks to transcend sectionalism by asserting the necessary supremacy of New England over the South (p.159). She also decenters Emerson and the Transcendentalist move- ment, to some extent, by recalling a counterargument made by self-identified Southern writer Edgar Allan Poe. Analyzing Poe’s satires, Greeson reveals his skepticism about Emerson’s centralizing vision. Poe sees the dangers of expansionism because he recognizes that the subjugation of the South provides a model for global expansion—that this impulse is imperial even though its proponents claim to be liberators. Yet Greeson acknowledges that Poe had little impact on his contemporaries. While she questions Emerson and others who offer moral sanctions for domination of the South, her argument moves away from the skeptics and toward imagery of union. Her geographic fan- tasy culminates in a third stage: the Reconstruction South imagined as global South at the turn into the twentieth century. Demonstrating the pervasive presence of an alternative story to U.S. exceptionalism, Greeson’s conclud- ing pages cover the plantation novels of Thomas Nelson Page and Pauline Hopkins, Henry James’ travelogue The American Scene, W. E. B. DuBois’ Souls of Black Folk, and two popular films—the notorious Birth of a Nation and the nostalgic Gone with the Wind—that each provoke a reaction to the U.S. South on the eve of American involvement in a global war. These disparate works demonstrate “a story of a nation that has emerged out of the ideological and material matrices of New World empire” (p. 289). Whether critical or celebra- tory, twentieth-century representations of the South participated in the same conversation and revealed the persistent parallel existence of U.S. empire and U.S. republic. By the early 1900s, the U.S. was assuming global power as the European empires crumbled, and Greeson argues that this “American century” is continuous rather than a break with American history. Visions of American empire are “routed back through understandings of the domestic past,” particularly the historical struggles to come to terms with the internal other, “our South” (p. 276). Both Jennifer Rae Greeson and David Wyatt read fictional romance as offering the possibility of real reconciliation. Wyatt’s capacious collection of reViewS in aMerican HiSTorY / JUne 2012288 disparate writers gains additional clarity when paired with Greeson’s imagined South. Greeson’s argument also gains by association with Wyatt’s twentieth century. Greeson leaves her readers with a turn-of–the-century problem—W. E. B. DuBois’ image of the color line as a national and global divide—and the solution imagined in the mid-twentieth century by Frantz Fanon—”a white and a black man hand in hand” (Fanon quoted in Greeson, p. 289). The inti- macy of U.S. geographic fantasy is surprisingly hopeful. Whereas Wyatt finds value in simply continuing the work of understanding the American canon as an ever-expanding whole, Jennifer Rae Greeson reflects a more embattled contemporary literary critical tradition when she calls her argument “a brief for the real-world importance of literary history” (p. 11). Behind Greeson’s formulation lurks some anxiety about the current moment of declared crisis in the humanities. She and Wyatt both invite us to consider the possibility that literary scholars engage in important future-oriented work when they reveal what was possible to imagine in the past. Kimberly Engber is an assistant professor of English at Wichita State Univer- sity where she teaches American literature and world literatures in English. Her current manuscript, Foreign Objects, Domestic Acts: Women Writers in an Ethnographic Age, is under review. 
work_4b7mg2kk5vf5xn5j3txw3rdklq	----	Recasting the Significant: The Transcultural Memory of Alexander von Humboldt’s Visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. humanities Article Recasting the Significant: The Transcultural Memory of Alexander von Humboldt’s Visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. James F. Howell Department of German Studies, University of Arizona, 9720 N. Oak Shadows Pl., Tucson, AZ 85737, USA; jfhowell@email.arizona.edu Academic Editor: Bernd Fischer Received: 1 May 2016; Accepted: 27 June 2016; Published: 1 July 2016 Abstract: Alexander von Humboldt was internationally known as a world traveler, having collected data and analyzed samples from five of the world’s seven continents. He spoke several languages fluently, and split most of his adult life between the cosmopolitan centers of Berlin and Paris. The great deal of time Humboldt spent in Latin America, along with his staunch belief in human equality, led to his reverence in those countries. Indeed, Humboldt was a world citizen in the truest sense of the word. But what of the United States? What claim can this nation make to the heritage and legacy of the world-exploring baron? A brief stop in Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. at the end of Humboldt’s expedition to the equatorial regions of the Americas seems to suffice. This short stay, along with the Humboldt-Jefferson correspondence, constitutes the great American link in Humboldt studies, a link whose nature and importance has, over the years, received an exaggerated amount of attention from authors writing for an American audience. The following analysis, using the tools of transcultural memory studies, investigates why this relatively insignificant event in a long and storied life assumes an inflated role in current accounts of the life and work of Alexander von Humboldt. Keywords: Alexander von Humboldt; cultural memory; transcultural memory; Thomas Jefferson; Founding Fathers 1. Humboldt’s Arrival in the United States On 24 May 1804, Alexander von Humboldt arrived in Philadelphia, marking the beginning of his one and only visit to the United States. Between his arrival and departure on June 30th of the same year, Humboldt traveled between Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., meeting with scientists and dignitaries at every stop. Humboldt was the talk of the new republic, indeed the world, after the completion of his five-year scientific and ethnographic survey of South and Central America. During his almost six weeks in the United States, Humboldt’s inquisitive hosts received him warmly, and he returned the warmth, remarking that the time spent in Washington and Philadelphia was “the most delightful of [my] life” ([1], p. 24), and that he considered himself from then on to be “half an American” ([2], p. ix). Although Humboldt did enjoy his stay in the United States and appreciated the connections he made there, he wrote very little about this pleasant and short detour in his long and storied travels. When later summarizing the final phase of his voyage, Humboldt merely remarked that he sailed from Havana to Bordeaux “by the way of Philadelphia” ([1], p. 30). This succinct characterization seems almost unthinkable when compared to recent textual depictions of Humboldt published in the United States. With the notable exception of Mary Louise Pratt’s volume Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation, Humboldt and his work have experienced an overwhelmingly positive reception in the United States over the past 25 years. In addition to this general positivity, another hallmark of Humanities 2016, 5, 49; doi:10.3390/h5030049 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Humanities 2016, 5, 49 2 of 9 American Humboldt literature is the aforementioned visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. in the late spring of 1804. Recently, writers in the United States have interpreted this short stay not merely as a cornerstone of Humboldt’s influence on American culture during the nineteenth century, but also as a defining moment in the Prussian baron’s life and intellectual career. Although Humboldt’s visit and his connection to the Founding Fathers certainly did not damage his notoriety in the United States during the course of the nineteenth century, it is problematic to overemphasize the relevance of these encounters. Indeed, the connections and correspondence Humboldt initiated with numerous American scientists and artists in Paris and Berlin after 1804 were more important in terms of his impact on American science and exploration. Contrary to the representations in many current accounts, the most probable source of the respect and popularity Humboldt enjoyed in the United States came from the translation and publication of the first several volumes of his magnum opus, Kosmos. This work was an international sensation, and within the United States its impact was felt and celebrated by the likes of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman, Henry David Thoreau, and Edgar Allan Poe. Why, then, does this brief and marginally relevant chapter in a life otherwise overflowing with acquaintances and accolades take such a central role in America’s modern understanding and representation of Alexander von Humboldt? This investigation will demonstrate the ways in which Humboldt and his visit to the United States are currently presented to American audiences, as well as analyze the transcultural and mnemonic processes involved in the reintroduction of Alexander von Humboldt to American cultural memory. 2. Framing Humboldt’s Visit One need not look far to find the narrative centrality of Humboldt’s visit in contemporary American texts. Humboldt’s presence on the eastern seaboard and his subsequent relationship with the Founding Fathers represent the starting point, the turning point, or the conclusion of American accounts of his life and works. Aaron Sachs, the author of The Humboldt Current: Nineteenth-Century Exploration and the Roots of American Environmentalism, begins his work with the following harrowing and adventurous account: “It would have been easier to sail straight back to Europe. Politics and weather both favored the conservative course: to make the detour from Havana to Philadelphia, his ship would be forced to brave a British naval blockade and risk a dangerous stretch of water at the beginning of hurricane season” ([3], p. 1). Here, Humboldt’s visit to the United States serves as the introduction to Humboldt and his biography. Only later does the reader learn in full detail from Sachs about Humboldt’s background and accomplishments. The explorer’s scientific influence and contributions to American environmentalism—Sach’s central themes—initially assume a secondary role to the establishment of Humboldt’s true credentials: his connection to the founders, and thereby to the founding, of the new republic. This association bestows a level of authenticity and indigeneity to the influence Humboldt exercised on the imagination and training of early American explorers and scientists. Humboldt impacted the American intellectual tradition not only through books and articles as a distant European scholar; rather by highlighting and prioritizing the dangerous passage from Havana to Philadelphia and the subsequent stay in the United States, Humboldt’s story becomes, in part, an American story. Laura Dassow Walls, author of Passage to Cosmos: Alexander von Humboldt and the Shaping of America, employs Humboldt’s visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. as a turning point in the narrative of Humboldt’s biography, as well as in her own investigation. Although Walls’ account of Humboldt’s life does not begin with his time in Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., these events are afforded special attention and are represented in a way reminiscent of Sach’s narrative. As seen in the following selection, Walls frames Humboldt’s decision to brave the Bahama Strait in familiarly courageous and daring terms: “Beyond the ‘moral obligation’ he felt to see the world’s lone functioning republic, there was every reason to avoid the detour. Humboldt was desperate to get himself, his friends, and his collections safely home to Paris. [...] Heading north risked losing everything they had with them to the British blockades of U.S. ports—assuming his ship was spared by the Humanities 2016, 5, 49 3 of 9 notorious Atlantic storms” ([2], p. 99). This dramatic account of Humboldt’s fateful decision to visit the United States initiates the second half of Walls' analysis, in which she begins to shift her focus away from Humboldt’s biography and onto his influence on nineteenth-century American literary culture. Although Humboldt’s fame in English-speaking North America would truly blossom with the first translations of Kosmos in 1845, Walls, among others, claims that the seeds had already been planted in the late spring of 1804. Gerard Helferich, in his work Humboldt’s Cosmos: Alexander von Humboldt and the Latin American Journey that Changed the Way We See the World, utilizes Humboldt’s brief stopover in the United States to frame the remainder of the explorer’s biographical narrative after having completed his American travels. The twelfth and final chapter of Helferich’s book bears the title of “Washington, Paris, and Berlin” [4]. This condensation of the final two-thirds of Humboldt’s life is indeed noteworthy, as it seemingly gives his time spent in Washington equal weight to his years spent living and working in Paris (1807–1827) and in Berlin (1827–1859). It should, of course, be noted that the biographical narrative crafted by Helferich focuses on Humboldt’s experiences in South and Central America, and therefore leaves little space for details regarding his life prior to and following the years 1799–1804. Considering, however, the fact that the vast majority of Humboldt’s scientific engagement and literary activity took place following his return to Europe, Helferich’s choice is truly remarkable. It suggests that visiting the United States and encountering Thomas Jefferson profoundly affected Humboldt and his legacy in a way equal to the composition of Kosmos, the Russian Expedition of 1829, or participation in the nineteenth-century scientific discourses centered in Paris. These accounts make it clear that visiting the United States was no mere fancy for Humboldt on his return journey; indeed, American authors go to great lengths to suggest that some kind of imperative was at work, compelling Humboldt to look upon this new republic with his own eyes, and meet the men and women who brought it about. Perhaps the most interesting use of Humboldt’s visit to frame a biographical narrative is employed by David McCullough in his essay on Humboldt entitled “Journey to the Top of the World.” McCullough, like Sachs, begins his account with Humboldt’s arrival in the United States in May of 1804; unlike Sachs, however, McCullough does not reveal Humboldt’s identity until the reader has been introduced to a well-known cast of American characters. All the reader knows of the “aristocratic young German” on the first page is that he had “come to pay his respects to the president of the new republic, Thomas Jefferson, a fellow ‘friend of science,’ and to tell him something of his recent journeys through South and Central America. For the next several weeks he did little else but talk, while Jefferson, on their walks about the White House grounds; or James Madison, the secretary of state; or the clever Mrs. Madison; or Albert Gallatin, the secretary of the treasury; or those who came to dine in with the president or to do business with him, listened in awe” ([5], p. 3). Only after the reader is securely ensconced in the thoroughly American context does McCullough reveal on the second page that “The young man’s name was Humboldt, Alexander von Humboldt—Friedrich Wilhelm Karl Heinrich Alexander von Humboldt—or Baron von Humboldt, as he was commonly addressed” ([5], p. 4). Although not even lasting six weeks, Humboldt’s presence in the newly established United States and his subsequent relationship with the Founding Fathers constitute an axis around which current American historical narratives revolve. 3. Humboldt and the Founding Fathers Recent American accounts associate Humboldt’s imperative to visit the United States with his desire to meet and consult with one particular Founding Father. As Joyce Appleby succinctly puts it in her volume Shores of Knowledge: New World Discoveries and the Scientific Imagination: “The purpose of this final leg of their voyage was to meet the president, Thomas Jefferson [...]” ([6], p. 224). Sachs echoes Appleby’s assertion in more detail: “If any particular person in the young Republic could have quieted Humboldt’s wanderlust for a more prolonged period, it would probably have been Thomas Jefferson himself. President not only of the nation, but also of its foremost Philosophical Society, Jefferson seems to have been the real object of Humboldt’s visit to the United States” ([3], p. 3). Humanities 2016, 5, 49 4 of 9 Humboldt had introduced himself to Jefferson in a letter, expressing his interest in discussing some of his paleontological finds from the Andes with the president. He soon found in Jefferson a gracious and intellectually equal host. As David McCullough states: “But there they were in Washington for several days, two of the most remarkable men of their time, fellow spirits if ever there were, talking, talking endlessly, intensely, their conversation having quickly ranged far from fossil teeth” ([5], p. 4). The representation of Jefferson in many of these texts appears as a personification of the new nation itself, an embodiment of its growth, curiosity, and potential. And in accordance, Humboldt’s correspondence with Jefferson has come to symbolize in many cases Humboldt’s continued interest in and preoccupation with the United States. As Helferich explains: “The two men would correspond for many years, and Jefferson’s high regard for Humboldt is obvious in his letters. [...] The friendship, rooted in their shared political philosophy and common love of science, would endure for more than twenty years, until Jefferson’s death in 1826” ([4], p. 299). As will later be argued, however, this epistolary connection proves to be tenuous at best. Jefferson is not the only Founding Father with ties to Humboldt, a fact that is continually underlined in the American investigations of the last 25 years. The best example of this connection between Humboldt and the revolutionary generation is provided by Walls in Passage to Cosmos. Like McCullough and Sachs, Walls mentions in detail Humboldt’s relationship with James and Dolley Madison. Unlike her counterparts, though, Walls goes on to discuss Humboldt’s consultations with other, lesser-known Founding Fathers, such as Dr. Benjamin Rush: “Over several visits with the famous physician Benjamin Rush—the obstinate and passionate reformer who had ridden to the First Continental Convention with John Adams and signed the Declaration of Independence next to Benjamin Franklin—Humboldt shared his speculations over the moral influence of New World gold and silver” ([2], p. 105). A textual connection emerges among Adams, Franklin, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence through Rush and his interactions with Humboldt. Walls again emphasizes this connection to Franklin when she notes Humboldt’s activities in Philadelphia: “The members of the American Philosophical Society, the premier learned society of the United States (founded by Benjamin Franklin in 1743), adopted Humboldt as one of their own, voting him to full membership at their next meeting. [...] It was probably in the fine new building of the Library Company of Philadelphia (founded by Franklin in 1731) that Humboldt shouted for joy when he read the announcement that his irreplaceable manuscripts had arrived safely home” ([2], p. 101). Here the reader is presented with Humboldt’s connection to Franklin expressed either in his membership in an organization, or in a joyous, yet merely probable, event. Some of these connections are tenuous at best, but perhaps the most interesting is the way in which Walls creates a textual connection between Humboldt and George Washington: “One day the party set off for Mount Vernon, where the visitors drank in the view while [Charles Wilson] Peale mourned for the good old days when he sat and drank with George Washington. Peale introduced Humboldt to Billy Lee, the last of Washington’s slaves, who had been granted freedom and an annuity in his will” ([2], pp. 102–3). In this passage, Walls not only connects Humboldt to the central figure among the Founding Fathers, she also connects him to the most problematic and divisive element of their legacy. The establishment of such a link to the Founding Fathers and the complexities of American slavery is remarkable, to be sure, as Humboldt was a lifelong abolitionist and an ardent opponent of the slave trade in the Americas. 4. The Constitution of Convention Perhaps the most intriguing elevation of Humboldt’s visit to the United States and his relationship with Thomas Jefferson comes in the form of two recent books written by European authors for American audiences. The first volume, Humboldt and Jefferson: A Transatlantic Friendship of the Enlightenment by Sandra Rebok, a European scholar working out of the Spanish National Research Council in Madrid, appeared in 2014, and fits neatly into the mold of American Humboldt literature. In Rebok’s account, the reader again finds Humboldt’s imperative to visit the United States: “From Cuba they initially intended to return to Europe and thus conclude their expedition, but instead they took the Spanish Humanities 2016, 5, 49 5 of 9 ship Concepción to Philadelphia and added five weeks in the United States to their journey. As we will see, this unplanned visit would assume a special importance in Humboldt’s life” ([1], p. 11). The special importance alluded to by Rebok takes the form of Humboldt’s subsequent friendship and correspondence with Jefferson. Rebok identifies this relationship as being of extreme importance to both men, as well as being an exemplar of enlightened, transatlantic discourse in a cosmopolitan age. According to Rebok, Humboldt’s experience in the United States and his connection to its founders was indeed formative: “He had met the Founding Fathers and architects of the first independent nation on the American continent, and he had seen for himself the functioning of the first republican institutions in the New World. This was the realization of ideals he passionately embraced” ([1], p. 31). Although Rebok’s text is irreplaceable as perhaps the most detailed and thoroughly researched account of Humboldt’s visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., it contains information that undermines the supposedly strong epistolary connection between Humboldt and Jefferson celebrated in the title, as well as the overall importance of Humboldt’s detour to the United States. Rebok notes that Humboldt was perhaps one of the most prolific letter writers of his day, penning an estimated fifty thousand letters in his lifetime. Jefferson, although not nearly reaching Humboldt’s total, still drafted some nineteen thousand letters. The number of extant letters written by the two men to one another, however, totals a mere fourteen: eight letters from Humboldt to Jefferson, and six letters from Jefferson to Humboldt ([1], pp. 53, 54). This sum certainly bespeaks neither a close and enduring friendship nor a passionate connection to an idealized state; rather it seems much more to be a sign of general good will and respectful interest on the part of both men. It is telling, for instance, that many of the succinct letters were written when the two correspondents sent, received, or requested each other’s publications as a gift. Even a brief correspondence and the polite exchange of written materials can, to be sure, have a profound impact on a person’s life or an intellectual environment, but there simply is no evidence in the extant textual record to suggest that such was the case between Humboldt and Jefferson. In the end, Rebok’s focus seems to be at times misplaced and her study, although thoroughly researched, faces many of the same interpretational issues experienced by her American counterparts. The second work on Humboldt by a European author for an American audience is Andrea Wulf’s The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World, published in 2015. In this—the most recent and best-selling work on Humboldt to appear in the United States over the last several decades—all of the previously mentioned American Humboldt conventions can be found. Echoing the suspenseful depictions of the stormy passage from Havana to Philadelphia crafted by Walls and Sachs, Wulf provides the following riveting account: It was as if the sea were about to swallow them. Huge waves rolled on to the deck and down the stairway into the belly of the ship. Humboldt’s forty trunks were in constant danger of flooding. They had sailed through a hurricane and for six long days the winds would not stop, pounding the vessel with such force that they could not sleep or even think. The cook lost his pots and pans when the water came gushing in, and was swimming rather than standing in his galley. No food could be cooked and sharks circled the boat. The captain’s cabin, at the ship’s stern, was flooded so high that they had to swim through it, and even the most seasoned sailors were tossed across the deck like ninepins. Fearing for their lives, the sailors insisted on more brandy rations, intending, they said, to drown drunk. Each wave that rolled towards them seemed like a huge rock face. Humboldt thought that he had never been closer to death ([7], p. 94). And all of this so that Humboldt could see with his own eyes the new country that supposedly embodied his most heartfelt political and philosophical beliefs, as well as “meet Thomas Jefferson, the third President of the United States. For five long years, Humboldt had seen nature at its best—lush, magnificent and awe-inspiring—and now he wanted to see civilization in all its glory, a society built as a republic on the principles of liberty” ([7], p. 95). Wulf also reminds the reader that it is not only Jefferson with whom Humboldt made a connection while in Philadelphia and Washington, D.C. Madison and Gallatin are also featured prominently in the narrative, along with other luminaries of Humanities 2016, 5, 49 6 of 9 the early republic. Most notably, Wulf employs a familiar literary tactic, which allows Humboldt to forge associations with Founding Fathers in absentia. In a scene reminiscent of Walls’ account, Wulf describes how “Humboldt travelled to Mount Vernon, George Washington’s estate, some fifteen miles south of the capital. Though Washington had died four and a half years previously, Mount Vernon was now a popular tourist destination and Humboldt wanted to see the home of the revolutionary hero” ([7], p. 101). Another way in which Wulf recapitulates American Humboldt literary convention is in her representation of the Jefferson-Humboldt correspondence. In the twelfth chapter of The Invention of Nature, “Revolutions and Nature: Simón Bolívar and Humboldt,” Wulf presents the correspondence between Humboldt and Jefferson as a constant back and forth, in which the finer points of the Latin American independence movements were discussed in detail. With no further point of reference provided by Wulf, the Humboldt-Jefferson correspondence appears to be the primary source material for the political debates of the age. This implicit characterization is unfortunate, as the Latin American struggles for independence were only explicitly thematized in four letters, and often in passing. In Wulf’s narrative, however, this was a passionate and important exchange, in which “the former American president, Thomas Jefferson, bombarded Humboldt with questions [...]” ([7], p. 148). In truth, a handful of questions spread out over a small number of short letters hardly constitutes a bombardment. As previously noted, the exchange of each other’s written works was the primary purpose of the Humboldt-Jefferson correspondence. Here again, an otherwise thoroughly researched and responsibly constructed narrative of Humboldt’s life and work overemphasizes a relatively minor event and the significance of a handful of encounters. 5. The Transcultural Synthesis of Memory Why is it then that so much recent scholarship and popular writing published in the United States inflates the significance of Humboldt’s visit to Philadelphia and Washington, D.C.? Although one might easily make charges of Americentrism or intellectual imperialism, processes of cultural memory and cultural integration are actually at work. For example, Sachs writes somewhat wistfully that: “It is tempting to wonder what Humboldt might have contributed to American politics had he moved to Washington and become an advisor to presidents instead of kings” ([3], p. 104). This statement does not advocate the explicit appropriation or annexation of Humboldt into American culture; rather it expresses much more a desire to share in Humboldt’s cultural and scientific legacy. Instead of appropriation, the talk should be of incorporation. This process of incorporation can be at times a bit cumbersome and problematic, as evidenced by the exaggerated accounts in the selections above; but it is also the process by which a culture’s memory adapts and reconfigures itself, so as to include a new element. In the field of cultural memory studies, an element such as Alexander von Humboldt is best identified as a memory site. This terminology should not be understood as referring to a specific site of historical action; rather memory sites can take any number of forms, including, but not limited to, places, people, events, periods, and ideas. This distinction is essential, as cultural memory studies do not investigate actual past events per se; rather the investigation focuses on how actors in the present create representations and knowledge of the past and to what purpose. Although cultural memory “operiert [...] in beiden Richtungen: zurück und nach vorne,” and “rekonstruiert nicht nur die Vergangenheit, es organisiert auch die Erfahrung der Gegenwart und Zukunft” ([8], p. 42), this is a concept that functions exclusively in the present. In other words, the remembering individual, and thereby the culture to which it belongs, is always present and active, while the event being remembered “is of the past and thus absent” ([9], p. 4). In considering cultural memory as a process of the present, it is important to keep in mind the distinction between history and the past. History is the product of the collection and analysis of textual records of every kind, with the aim of reconstructing a realistic and accurate representation of things that have taken place. The past is also “eine kulturelle Schöpfung” ([8], p. 48), but it is not the locus of thoughtful scholarly reflection as history is thought to be; rather the past serves as a necessary, Humanities 2016, 5, 49 7 of 9 cognitive point of reference and satisfies “das kollektive Bedürfnis nach Sinnstiftung” ([10], p. 13). The past, unlike the material collections and institutions of history, “ensteht überhaupt erst dadurch, daß man sich auf sie bezieht” ([8], p. 31). In other words, the past, along with the memory sites into which the past is divided, serves as a means of orientation that guides cultural actors in the present. If cultural memory is differentiated thus from history, the Age of Discovery or Charlemagne are as much points of reference as the Alamo or Auschwitz; and they therefore constitute memory sites “nicht dank ihrer materiellen Gegenständlichkeit, sondern wegen ihrer symbolischen Funktion. Es handelt sich um langlebige, Generationen überdauernde Kristallisationspunkte kollektiver Erinnerung und Identität, die in gesellschaftliche, kulturelle und politische Üblichkeiten eingebunden sind und die sich in dem Maße verändern, in dem sich die Weise ihrer Wahrnehmung, Aneignung, Anwendung und Übertragung verändert” ([10], p. 18). And these sites, much like the cultural memory they constitute, are contextually specific. Alexander von Humboldt memory sites exist in numerous cultures, but each Humboldt memory site interacts with each culture in a specific manner. The German Humboldt, for instance differs from the Venezuelan Humboldt, and each fulfills a different role in the respective cultures. What then are the ways in which cultural memory functions? How is it that some things are remembered and celebrated while others are not? These questions get to the very heart of the representation and use of Alexander von Humboldt in recent American texts, as they highlight the role of forgetting in the processes of cultural memory. In addition to the aforementioned themes and conventions that pervade contemporary American Humboldt literature, Humboldt’s absence from twentieth and twenty-first-century American culture forms a cornerstone of almost every Humboldt narrative published in the United States. As Sachs notes following his depiction of Humboldt’s rough passage from the Caribbean to the Delaware River: “As far as the twenty-first century memory of Alexander von Humboldt is concerned, he may as well have gone down with his ship: many people have never even heard of him” ([3], p. 2). Helferich concurs with Sachs, in that “[a]lthough many North Americans have a vague sense of Humboldt’s name [...] most would be hard pressed to give particulars” ([4], p. xx). The name might seem familiar to many Americans, considering the number of places and natural phenomena that have been named after Humboldt; but even this, as Appleby concludes, does not protect against cultural amnesia: “What astounds today is how little Humboldt is remembered. [...] Few great men have had their reputations fade so quickly, just leaving his name on a bay, peak, lake, current, sinkhole, penguin, lily, orchid, and oak whose namesake few remember” ([6], p. 229). This is truly astounding to McCullough, who reflects on the fact that Humboldt’s “was a journey that would capture the imagination of the age, but that has been strangely forgotten in our own time. It is doubtful that one educated American in ten today could say who exactly Humboldt was or what he did, not even, possibly, in Humboldt, Iowa, or Humboldt, Kansas” ([5], p. 5). Some authors, such as Walls, do not merely lament the level of American ignorance regarding Humboldt. Indeed, she sees it as a deficiency in America’s understanding of its own history that is in desperate need of correction: “That U.S. American literary and cultural studies have remained oblivious to Alexander von Humboldt is a scandal exactly equivalent to analyzing Romanticism without Goethe, naturalism without Darwin, modernism in ignorance of Einstein, or postmodernism without Heisenberg” ([2], p. x). American authors not only bemoan this absence, it serves as the stated raison d’etre for their work. The reintroduction of Humboldt to American culture and the recovery of Humboldt’s “environmental thinking” will allow for a host of progressive cultural advances, including “a global debate over capitalism and imperial power” ([2], p. 9). Wulf alone slightly breaks with convention and reminds the American reader that not the entire world has forgotten Humboldt in the same way: “Though today almost forgotten outside of academia—at least in the English-speaking world—Alexander von Humboldt’s ideas still shape our thinking. And while his books collect dust in libraries, his name lingers everywhere” ([7], p. 7). Fittingly enough, these images of dusty libraries and tomes of neglected toponyms allude to Aleida Assmann’s groundbreaking work on the role of forgetting in the processes of cultural Humanities 2016, 5, 49 8 of 9 memory. Assmann has identified two types of memory that shape a culture’s understanding and representation of itself, and that are constantly engaged in dynamic interaction with one another. There is the active, or functional, memory of a culture, which is comprised of the memory sites being synthesized and utilized by a culture on a constant basis; and the stored, or saved memory of a culture. The functional memory of a culture can be thought of as a kind of canon that is continually invoked by cultural actors as a means of orientation and reference. No memory site in the functional memory of a culture may be assured of continued thematization, however, “[d]enn Kanonisierung bedeutet obendrein auch die transhistorische Selbstverpflichtung zu wiederholter Lektüre und Deutung. So bleiben die Bestände des Funktionsgedächtnisses trotz der Bewegung beschleunigter Innovation auf den Lehrplänen der Bildungsinstitutionen, auf den Spielplänen der Theater, in den Sälen der Museen, den Aufführungen der Konzerthallen und Programmen der Verlage. Was einen Platz im Funktionsgedächtnis einer Gesellschaft hat, hat Anspruch auf immer neue Aufführung, Ausstellung, Lektüre, Deutung, Auseinandersetzung” ([11], p. 56). In contrast, the archived memory extant within a culture should be understood much more as “a storehouse for cultural relicts,” in which memories “are not unmediated; they have only lost their immediate addressees; they are de-contextualized and disconnected from their former frames which had authorized them or determined their meaning” ([12], p. 99). The contents of a culture’s stored memory have not lost any of their productive power; rather their creative energy has gone from kinetic to potential. To be sure, there is a constant back and forth between a culture’s stored and functional memory; and this continual deactivation and reactivation “entsteht dadurch, dass die Grenze zwischen Funktions—und Speichergedächtnis nicht hermetisch ist, sondern in beiden Richtungen überschritten werden kann. Aus dem vom Willen und Bewusstsein ausgeleuchteten ‘aktiven’ Funktionsgedächtnis fallen beständig Elemente ins Archiv zurück, die an Interesse verlieren; aus dem ‘passiven’ Speichergedächtnis können neue Entdeckungen ins Funktionsgedächtnis heraufgeholt werden.” ([11], p. 57). The dynamic relationship between the two forms of cultural memory provides cultural actors with an almost unlimited set of memory sites with which to work. In turn, cultural actors select, activate, and modify these memory sites based on their current needs and aspirations. Taking all of this into consideration, the textual representations of Humboldt in the United States can be understood as an appeal to the reading public to reincorporate the Humboldt memory site into the functional memory of American culture. Time and again, these American and European authors decry Humboldt’s absence as a loss, and advocate for him and his place in science to be venerated much as they were in the nineteenth century. This advocacy lays bare many of the ways in which cultural memory functions, and provides a fascinating look into the constitution of memory sites in a contemporary context. Beyond even this utility, however, the Humboldt memory site provides unprecedented insight into the potential of transcultural memory and transcultural influences on cultural memory. This investigation contends that the confluence of Humboldt representation in the literary works of American and European authors indicates the initiation of a transcultural memory site. The depictions of Humboldt in North America and Europe, and more importantly, the cultural motivations and aspirations behind those depictions, have aligned to such an extent that a transcultural space has been created in which multiple cultures can communicate about pressing needs and concerns while drawing on common points of reference. Rebok’s Humboldt and Jefferson and Wulf’s The Invention of Nature demonstrate this transcultural coordination most clearly, as both exemplify the ease with which textual representations of Humboldt, and the memory sites they constitute, flow back and forth from European and North American cultural discourses. Most certainly, the litmus test of any element within cultural memory is its importance and relevance to the current conditions and needs of a given culture. Fittingly, the majority of recent Humboldt texts published in the United States and Europe present Humboldt either as a climate change activist avant-la-lettre, or an embodiment of Enlightenment ideals and their potential. By connecting Humboldt as securely as possible to the pantheon of the Founding Fathers and the Olympus of the early republic, these contemporary authors elevate his relevance in a way that might affect the Humanities 2016, 5, 49 9 of 9 reaction of current audiences on both sides of the Atlantic to the issues often associated with him, be it global warming or enlightened discourse. The texts investigated here demonstrate an effort, whether conscious or subconscious, coordinated or uncoordinated, toward reincorporating Humboldt back into America’s active cultural memory. As Andrea Wulf states in the epilogue of The Invention of Nature, “now is the time for us and for the environmental movement to reclaim Alexander von Humboldt as our hero” ([7], p. 337). Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References 1. Rebok, Sandra. Humboldt and Jefferson: A Transatlantic Friendship of the Enlightenment. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 2014. 2. Walls, Laura Dassow. The Passage to Cosmos: Alexander von Humboldt and the Shaping of America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009. 3. Sachs, Aaron. The Humboldt Current: Nineteenth-Century Exploration and the Roots of American Environmentalism. New York: Penguin Books, 2007. 4. Helferich, Gerard. Humboldt’s Cosmos: Alexander von Humboldt and the Latin American Journey that Changed the Way We See the World. New York: Gotham Books, 2004. 5. McCullough, David. “Journey to the Top of the World.” In Brave Companions: Portraits in History. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1992, pp. 3–19. 6. Appleby, Joyce. Shores of Knowledge: New World Discoveries and the Scientific Imagination. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2013. 7. Wulf, Andrea. The Invention of Nature: Alexander von Humboldt’s New World. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2015. 8. Assmann, Jan. Das kulturelle Gedächtnis: Schrift, Erinnerung und politische Identität in frühen Hochkulturen. München: C.H. Beck, 2007. 9. Huyssen, Andreas. Present Pasts: Urban Palimpsests and the Politics of Memory. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003. 10. François, Etienne, and Hagen Schulze. “Einleitung.” In Deutsche Erinnerungsorte. Edited by Etienne François and Hagen Schulze. München: Verlag C.H. Beck, 2001, vol. 3, pp. 9–24. 11. Assmann, Aleida. Der lange Schatten der Vergangenheit: Erinnerungskutlur und Geschichtspolitik. München: C.H. Beck, 2006. 12. Assmann, Aleida. “Canon and Archive.” In A Companion to Cultural Memory Studies. Edited by Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010, pp. 97–108. © 2016 by the author; licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC-BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Humboldt’s Arrival in the United States Framing Humboldt’s Visit Humboldt and the Founding Fathers The Constitution of Convention The Transcultural Synthesis of Memory 
work_4aonqik7qrdfhdhiagta73bi6q	----	ATTITUDES AND SOCIAL COGNITION Windows Into Nothingness: Terror Management, Meaninglessness, and Negative Reactions to Modern Art Mark J. Landau and Jeff Greenberg University of Arizona Sheldon Solomon Skidmore College Tom Pyszczynski University of Colorado at Colorado Springs Andy Martens University of Arizona Why do people dislike art that they find meaningless? According to terror management theory, maintaining a basic meaningful view of reality is a key prerequisite for managing concerns about mortality. Therefore, mortality salience should decrease liking for apparently meaningless art, particu- larly among those predisposed to unambiguous knowledge. Accordingly, mortality salience diminished affection for modern art in Study 1, and this effect was shown in Study 2 to be specific to individuals with a high personal need for structure (PNS). In Studies 3 and 4, mortality salient high-PNS participants disliked modern art unless it was imbued with meaning, either by means of a title or a personal frame of reference induction. Discussion focused on the roles of meaninglessness, PNS, and art in terror management. Keywords: terror management, meaning, art, aesthetic judgments, need for structure When in doubt there is always form for us to go on with. Anyone who has achieved the least form to be sure of it, is lost to the larger excruciations. —Robert Frost, Robert Frost on Writing Few human endeavors carry the social significance of art. His- torians, archeologists, and anthropologists often look to the art of remote civilizations and eras to document social, cultural, and even cognitive developments. The creation and enjoyment of art are social acts of considerable importance to people. Indeed, in every known society past and present, people collectively create and consume paintings, music, dance, stories, and other art forms as a means to express and experience feelings and ideas, unify groups, indicate status, instruct, amuse, and inspire. Of equal social sig- nificance, art also has the power to incite disgust and outrage, and efforts to eradicate it, such as Savonarola’s “bonfire of the vani- ties” in 15th-century Florence and the more recent outrage over Robert Mapplethorpe’s photography. Such negative reactions of- ten arise in response to art that violates traditional values or otherwise opposes the prevailing worldview.1 Of present interest, however, is the common tendency to dislike art not because it contains specific objectionable content, but because it appears to be devoid of any meaning. The present article examines reactions to art, particularly modern art, as a means to explore the more general psychological threat of meaninglessness from the perspec- tive of terror management theory (TMT). Specifically, we report four studies that investigate whether mortality concerns and indi- vidual differences in personal need for structure (PNS) contribute to negative reactions to seemingly meaningless works of modern art. A Case in Meaninglessness: The Popular Distaste for Modern Art Theorists who focus on the psychological determinants of aes- thetic preferences commonly observe that people do not generally appreciate art they consider meaningless (e.g., Dissanayake, 1988; Donald, 1991; Humphrey, 1999; Lewis-Williams, 2002: Ram- 1 Art that exemplifies the dominant worldview can also be despised, as was the case during the French revolution. Mark J. Landau, Jeff Greenberg, and Andy Martens, Department of Psychology, University of Arizona; Sheldon Solomon, Department of Psychology, Skidmore College; Tom Pyszczynski, Department of Psychol- ogy, University of Colorado at Colorado Springs. Andy Martens is now at the Department of Psychology, University of Canterbury, Christchurch, New Zealand. Images of the paintings used in the present studies are available on request. The research was supported by National Science Foundation Grants BCS-0241371 and BCS-0242232. We thank Dena Norris, Pegah Afkary, and Daniel Sullivan for their help in data collection and analysis. We thank Louis Cicotello for help in selecting paintings. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Mark J. Landau, University of Arizona, Psychology Department, P.O. Box 210068, Tucson, AZ 85721-0068. E-mail: mjlandau@email.arizona.edu Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 2006, Vol. 90, No. 6, 879 – 892 Copyright 2006 by the American Psychological Association 0022-3514/06/$12.00 DOI: 10.1037/0022-3514.90.6.879 879 achandran & Hirstein, 1999; Rank, 1936/1968). Although art afi- cionados often derive meaning from their prior knowledge and experience, naive observers tend to rely solely on the artwork’s representational and expressive content: What is this a picture or sculpture of? What emotional qualities are clearly represented in this music or dance? What is the plot of this film or play? (see Cupchik & Gebotys, 1988; Neperud, 1988; Peel, 1944; Winston & Cupchik, 1992.) Of course, many art styles (e.g., impressionism) deviate consid- erably from the naturalistic imitation of realistic forms in the external world. However, modern abstract art is unique in its explicit abandonment of any representational intentions whatso- ever. For example, over the course of his development as a painter, Wassily Kandinsky (1866 –1944) came to eschew representational or “imitative” form in favor of increasing abstraction. In account- ing for the broad unpopularity of such modern art, theorists such as Ortega y Gasset (1972) and C. Greenberg (1936/1961) noted that modern art alienates the average person by defying prepackaged meaning and requiring special sensibilities to decode, without which the naive viewer is “lost in a chaos of sounds and rhythms, colours and lines, without rhyme or reason” (Bourdieu, 1984, p. 2). Empirical studies of art appreciation are consistent with the notion that perceived meaninglessness significantly detracts from aesthetic enjoyment. Superficial content accounts for more of the variance in untrained viewers’ aesthetic preferences than other sensory properties of the artwork (Martindale, 1988), and evalua- tions become less favorable as this content becomes more impov- erished (Baltissen & Ostermann, 1998; Cupchik & Gebotys, 1988; Kettlewell, Lipscomb, Evans, & Rosston, 1990; Limbert & Pol- zella, 1998). What underlies this aversion to perceived meaning- lessness? Although there are undoubtedly a number of contributing factors, we believe that TMT offers one particularly provocative answer to this question. TMT, Nonspecific Structure, and PNS TMT (J. Greenberg, Pyszczynski, & Solomon, 1986; Solomon, Greenberg, & Pyszczynski, 2004) addresses the motivational un- derpinnings of people’s need to perceive meaning in the world. TMT posits that humans, like all life forms, are biologically oriented toward continued survival but are uniquely aware that their lives will inevitably end. This knowledge creates the potential for severe anxiety in the absence of psychological mechanisms designed to ward off thoughts of death. According to TMT, people manage mortality concerns through investment in an individual- ized version of a cultural meaning system coupled with the sus- tained conviction of personal worth and significance. Empirical support for TMT has been obtained primarily through tests of the mortality salience hypothesis: To the extent that mean- ing and personal value serve to avert mortality concerns, then heightening the salience of mortality should intensify reliance on and defense of psychological structures that sustain a sense that one is a significant being in a meaningful world. This intensified defense is reflected by contempt for anyone or anything that threatens to compromise these structures. Wide-ranging experi- ments support variants of this general hypothesis (for reviews of this research, see J. Greenberg, Solomon, & Pyszczynski, 1997; Pyszczynski, Solomon, & Greenberg, 2003). For example, mor- tality salience leads to polarized attitudes toward those who uphold or violate cultural values and increased discomfort when behaving in ways that violate cultural standards. Furthermore, mortality salience effects have been obtained using diverse operationaliza- tions of mortality salience, including subliminal priming and prox- imity to a funeral home. This body of research has also demon- strated that these effects are specific to thoughts of mortality and not elicited in response to thoughts of other aversive events. Moreover, many studies have shown that mortality salience effects are mediated not by mood, affect, or arousal but rather by the potential for anxiety signaled by the heightened accessibility of death-related thought (J. Greenberg et al., 2003). TMT research focuses primarily on how mortality salience affects reactions to people, objects, or ideas that bolster or threaten specific aspects of one’s belief systems. More recent research, however, has discovered that mortality salience also heightens concern with more global or nonspecific properties of belief sys- tems, such as simplicity and consistency (see Dechesne, Janssen, & van Knippenberg, 2000; Landau, Johns, et al., 2004; Schimel et al., 1999). Landau, Johns, et al. (2004), for example, found that mortality salience leads people to prefer simple, consistent, and balanced interpretations of others and social events. This research has also revealed that mortality salience heightens concern with nonspecific structure primarily among individuals chronically disposed to clear, simple, and unambiguous knowl- edge, as assessed by PNS (Thompson, Naccarato, Parker, & Mos- kowitz, 2001). For example, high- but not low-PNS individuals responded to mortality primes with reduced liking for a behavior- ally inconsistent, and thus dispositionally ambiguous, target (Landau, Johns, et al., 2004). From a TMT perspective, people invest in different sources of meaning and personal value to cope with death, and individual differences in PNS are interpreted as variations in how central perceiving and imposing structure are to one’s protective worldview: Whereas high-PNS individuals may find more meaning in order, simplicity, and familiarity, low-PNS individuals may derive meaning from spontaneity, mystery, and open-mindedness. These findings demonstrate that seeking basic structure and order in the world serves in part to manage mortality concerns, and that PNS is an important moderator of the effects of mortality salience on various structuring tendencies. However, no prior empirical attention has been given to an equally fundamental means of making sense of the world, namely, locating basic, nonspecific meaning (i.e., discerning recognizable forms, patterns, and generally mapping one’s perceptual experience with existing knowledge structures). Consistent with TMT, various thinkers have noted the importance of maintaining coherent meaning in managing existential concerns (e.g., Becker, 1971, 1973; Dis- sanayake, 1988; Frankl, 1963; Rank, 1936/1968). However, we know of no experimental attempts to assess whether increasing the salience of death heightens concern with maintaining basic mean- ing; the present research aimed to fill this gap by examining how aesthetic preferences for seemingly meaningful and meaningless art are influenced by intimations of mortality. Death, Meaning, and Aesthetic Preferences How can a TMT perspective on meaning inform our understand- ing of people’s distaste for certain artworks? We believe that art can threaten protective meaning in two ways. First, art with rec- ognizable content could be perceived as irreverent, cynical, belit- tling, provocatively hostile, or otherwise insulting to specific as- 880 LANDAU ET AL. pects of the worldview through allegedly lewd, blasphemous, or incongruent creations (e.g., Marcel Duchamp’s Fountain, actually a porcelain urinal, or Andres Serrano’s Piss Christ, a photograph of a crucifix submerged in urine). Indeed, there are numerous examples of outrage over such works, such as the 1990 contro- versy over the funding of the National Endowment for the Arts to allegedly obscene, sacrilegious, or homoerotic art. In these cases, the offensive art is readily interpretable within the individual’s existing meaning structures but clearly opposes them, and here the popular negative response reflects the well-documented need to defend specific aspects of the anxiety-buffering worldview in the face of overt threats to it (e.g., J. Greenberg et al., 1990; J. Greenberg, Simon, Porteus, Pyszczynski, & Solomon, 1995). Second, and more germane to the present research, art may also undermine meaning when it does not appear to possess any rec- ognizable form or content and thereby stretches the latitude of culturally derived or personally relevant concepts to the point that the observer has no vocabulary or perceptual resources to mean- ingfully interpret it. We view apprehending an artwork as compa- rable to apprehending everyday experiences (e.g., Arnheim, 1969; Cupchik, 1992; Neperud, 1988) in that they both entail seeking a coherent and stable meaning vis-à-vis the countless associations derived from the individual’s culturally mediated history and purely personal experiences. Consequently, modern art, which appears to many as irregular mosaics of pointless shapes and meaningless splatters, may be disliked because of an existential concern with maintaining meaning. To assess this idea, the current research examined the role of mortality concerns in aversion to these windows into “no-thing-ness.” In our first study, we tested the simple hypothesis that mortality salience reduces liking for abstract art. We then considered the possible moderating role of individual differences in PNS on aesthetic preferences in response to subtle reminders of death. As discussed earlier, Landau, Johns, et al. (2004) found that mortality salient high-PNS people reacted negatively to dispositionally in- consistent individuals and imbalanced social relations, suggesting that high-PNS individuals may be particularly invested in conven- tional sources of aesthetic structure and meaning. Consistent with this notion, PNS is negatively associated with openness to expe- rience (Landau, Johns, et al., 2004; Neuberg & Newsom, 1993; Thompson et al., 2001), which is robustly associated with general interest in novel aesthetic experiences (Costa & McCrae, 1994; McCrae, 1994) and appreciation of abstract art (Rawlings, 2000). Accordingly, we designed Studies 2, 3, and 4 to test the prediction that only relatively high-PNS individuals would devalue seem- ingly meaningless modern art under conditions of mortality sa- lience. In addition, Studies 3 and 4 assessed whether a title or frame of reference that imbues an abstract painting with meaning would attenuate the mortality salience–induced devaluation of such art. Study 1 On the basis of TMT, we propose that modern art is often disliked because it lacks appreciable meaning and is thus incom- patible with the underlying terror management motive to maintain a meaningful conception of reality. Evaluations of modern art, therefore, should be especially negative after mortality salience. To test this hypothesis, we simply manipulated mortality salience and then asked participants to evaluate two modern paintings. Method Participants Twenty-five introductory psychology students (16 women and 9 men) participated for partial course credit. Materials and Procedure The study was conducted in groups that varied in size from 4 to 8 participants and was described as an investigation of the relationship between personality attributes and impressions of art. Participants were randomly assigned a packet and instructed to work through it at their own pace. The packets were identical in content except for the mortality salience manipulation and the order of the artworks. Participants inserted their completed packets into envelopes and dropped them into a box; they were then debriefed. Mortality salience manipulation and delay. The mortality salience manipulation followed the two personality fillers included to sustain the cover story. The mortality salience treatment (Rosenblatt, Greenberg, So- lomon, Pyszczynski, & Lyon, 1989) consisted of two open-ended ques- tions: “Please briefly describe the emotions that the thought of your own death arouses in you” and “Jot down, as specifically as you can, what you think will happen to you physically as you die and once you are physically dead.” To control for the possibility that the effect of this induction is merely a generalized reaction to reminders of any aversive experience, participants in the control condition were given parallel questions with respect to an important upcoming exam. The next questionnaire was the Positive and Negative Affect Schedule—Expanded Form (PANAS-X; Watson & Clark, 1991) self-report mood scale. This scale was included to determine whether the mortality salience treatment engendered affect.2 Delay and distraction were then created by having participants read a mundane, affectively neutral descriptive passage from “The Growing Stone” by Albert Camus because previous research (e.g., J. Greenberg, Pyszczynski, Solomon, Simon, & Breus, 1994) has shown that mortality salience effects are more robust after a delay. Art impressions. Participants were then instructed to look at two un- titled pictures of modern art: Wyndham Lewis’s Workshop and Patrick Caulfield’s After Lunch (counterbalanced for order). Workshop is highly abstract, depicting superimposed lines and blocklike shapes. After Lunch has some representational qualities; however, the recognizable elements in the piece do not cohere in any obvious fashion. In debriefings, participants reported that they did not perceive either piece as remotely meaningful. Following each picture, participants were asked, “How attractive do you find this picture?,” and responded on a 9-point scale (1 � not at all; 5 � somewhat; 9 � extremely). Results and Discussion In this and all the studies reported here, none of the participants were familiar with any of the artworks, and no effects were found for gender or order. Thus, these variables were excluded from 2 The PANAS-X (Watson & Clark, 1991) contains 13 subscales: Posi- tive Affect, Negative Affect, Guilt, Fear, Shyness, Happiness, Hostility, Self-Assurance, Sadness, Serenity, Surprise, Attentiveness, and Fatigue. The PANAS-X thus allowed us to assess the possibility of affective consequences of the mortality salience inductions. For all four studies reported here, we performed multivariate ANOVAs and ANOVAs on the various subscales of the PANAS-X and ANOVAs on the aggregate posi- tive and negative affect scores using our primary predictors. Consistent with previous TMT research, these analyses revealed no effects. We also conducted analyses of covariance with the affect subscales scores (includ- ing Positive and Negative Affect) as covariates and our primary predicted effects remained significant. 881DEATH, MEANINGLESSNESS, AND ART subsequent analyses. A preliminary analysis also found no effect of piece; therefore, the attractiveness ratings for both pictures were averaged to form a composite. A t test comparing mortality sa- lience and control prime conditions found that participants in the mortality salience condition found the art less attractive (M � 3.9, SD � 1.64) than those in the exam salience condition (M � 5.8, SD � 1.70), t(23) � 2.99, p � .008. These results confirm our hypothesis that modern art would be evaluated less favorably after mortality salience. This finding provides initial support for the claim that the popular distaste for modern art lies at least in part in its threat to the terror-assuaging capacity to perceive objects in the world as meaningful. However, because we only assessed evaluations of modern art in Study 1, mortality salience may have reduced regard for any art, not only modern. Consequently, the next two studies used both representa- tional and abstract art to assess the merits of this alternative explanation. The following three studies were also designed to investigate the role of PNS in aesthetic preferences. Study 2 On the basis of the foregoing analysis, we expected that indi- vidual differences in PNS would moderate the effect of mortality salience, such that mortality salient high-PNS participants would rate modern art especially negatively. Low-PNS people, in con- trast, are less reliant on conventional structure, so we did not expect mortality salience to affect their judgments of modern art. Study 2 was also designed to determine whether it is specifically the seeming lack of meaning of modern artwork, and not other aspects of art, that influence judgments after mortality salience. We thus had participants evaluate artworks representing three other genres in addition to modern: (a) paintings that depict Chris- tian themes; (b) paintings that depict non-Western iconography (in a nonthreatening way) in order to distinguish the threat of mean- inglessness from that of meaning representing nondominant world- views; and (c) landscape paintings with an impressionistic style to distinguish meaninglessness from stylistic departures from real- ism. Mortality salient high-PNS participants were expected to rate only the modern pieces negatively. We also wondered whether broadly worldview-consistent art (in this case, art with Christian themes) would be appreciated more after mortality salience. Al- though not critical for our central claims, this hypothesis is con- sistent with prior demonstrations of increased regard for culturally sacred objects after mortality salience (J. Greenberg et al., 1995). We also entertained the possibility that mortality salience would reduce liking for the non-Western iconography paintings. How- ever, because they involve images (the Buddha and Native Amer- ican symbols) that are familiar and not inherently contradictory to mainstream American culture, we did not expect such an effect. To test these hypotheses, we measured PNS, manipulated mortality salience, and then obtained rankings of a series of paintings. Method Participants Sixty-two introductory psychology students (37 women and 25 men) participated for extra credit. Materials and Procedure Participants were recruited to take part in two ostensibly separate ex- periments described as studies of personality characteristics and art atti- tudes. In cubicles, participants were randomly assigned a packet for each study; they differed only in the mortality salience manipulation and order of art prints (one of two random orders). Participants completed the packets and were debriefed. The packets began with two filler questionnaires followed by Thompson et al.’s (2001) 12-item PNS Scale to measure individual differences in preference for order, certainty, and definite knowledge. Participants were asked to indicate their agreement with each of 12 statements (e.g., “I don’t like situations that are uncertain”) on a 6-point scale (1 � strongly agree, 6 � strongly disagree). Mortality salience was then manipulated as in Study 1, but dental pain was used as the aversive control topic. The PANAS-X and a neutral word-search puzzle served as the delay. Partici- pants were then instructed to look at eight untitled and not well-known paintings representing four genres: a Rothko and a Miro (modern), The Crucifixion by Dürer and Madonna and Child by Filippo Lippi (Christian), a Dutch landscape by Jacob Van Ruisdael and a French landscape by Corot (landscape), and an anonymous Hopi sand painting and a depiction of Buddha (non-Western). Participants were instructed to rank order the pieces from 1 (liked the most) to 8 (liked the least). Results and Discussion Comparisons of the rankings between the two paintings within each genre revealed no significant differences and were, therefore, averaged to form composite rankings for each genre (composite rankings ranged from 1.5–7.5; high scores indicated less relative preference). Dependent t tests showed that modern art was ranked the lowest of the four genres, significantly lower than Christian and landscape paintings, both ts(61) � 5.84, ps � .001, and marginally lower than non-Western paintings, t(61) � 1.81, p � .07. We then formed high- and low-PNS groups by means of median split (e.g., Moskowitz, 1993; Neuberg & Newsom, 1993) and submitted the ranking scores to a 2 (priming condition: mor- tality vs. dental pain; between-subjects) � 2 (high PNS vs. low PNS; between-subjects) � 4 (art genre; within-subject) mixed analysis of variance (ANOVA). Results revealed a significant three-way interaction, F(3, 123) � 2.80, p � .04. We then con- ducted a series of 2 (mortality vs. dental pain) � 2 (high PNS vs. low PNS) ANOVAs on the rankings for each art genre.3 For modern art rankings, a significant PNS main effect revealed that high-PNS participants liked modern art less (M � 5.8, SD � 1.46) than low-PNS participants (M � 5.0, SD � 1.48), F(1, 58) � 4.87, p � .03. This was qualified by a significant Mortality Salience � PNS interaction, F(1, 58) � 5.02, p � .03. The pattern of means (Table 1) indicates that for low-PNS participants mortality salience did not alter preferences for modern art, F(1, 58) � 1.30, p � .27. Those high in PNS, however, exhibited a decreased liking, as indicated by higher rankings, when primed with death compared with pain, F(1, 58) � 3.97, p � .05. Also, high- and low-PNS individuals exhibited similar liking for modern art in the dental pain condition, but their scores differed significantly in the mor- tality salience condition, F(1, 58) � 10.64, p � .002. The same ANOVAs on evaluations for the other genres revealed no signif- icant effects (all Fs � 1.40, ps � .24; means in Table 1). These results confirm our hypothesis that high-PNS participants in the mortality salience condition would express especially neg- 3 For Studies 2, 3, and 4, we also tested our primary predictions using regression analyses that treat PNS as a continuous variable. These analyses resulted in the same significant pattern of effects as reported in the primary ANOVAs. The results of the ANOVAs are presented for simplicity of presentation. 882 LANDAU ET AL. ative ratings specifically of nonrepresentational modern artworks. These results suggest that aesthetic stimuli that are, to the un- trained eye, essentially devoid of meaningful content are often disliked because they undermine the meaningful structures that normally contribute to the management of mortality concerns. In addition, PNS is an important factor in susceptibility to this threat of meaninglessness. We did not find main effects or interactions for any of the individual genres besides modern, suggesting that meanings of various types are sufficient to diffuse the potential for the nonspecific threat of meaninglessness. Study 3 The results of Studies 1 and 2 supported the idea that the terror management threat posed by apparent meaninglessness plays a role in distaste for modern art, particularly among those high in PNS. Studies 3 and 4 explore a further implication of this analysis, namely, that imbuing modern art with meaning will attenuate mortality-induced negative evaluations. This would show that these effects of mortality salience are a response to meaningless- ness in art rather than a response to any art identified as modern, a category of art many people view as elitist and pretentious (see, e.g., Halle, 1993). One way to impute meaning to an abstract artwork is through a title. Titles can serve as explanatory captions that aid interpretation by directing perception to salient content or intended meanings. For example, Russell and Milne (1997) found that adding titles to modern art increased the rated meaningfulness of the works, and Oatley and Yuill (1985) found that participants were more likely to interpret the movements of geometric shapes across a computer screen as reflecting meaningful intention if the film had been given a title. If naive perceivers are searching for some framework with which to structure their aesthetic experience, then a title can reduce the threat of meaninglessness otherwise posed by modern art. Therefore, we predicted that high-PNS participants would dislike a seemingly meaningless modern artwork after mortality salience, but that this effect would be eliminated if the piece was accom- panied by a meaning-laden title. To determine whether this effect of titles has to do with imbuing meaning rather than something else about providing a title, we also had participants evaluate an artwork that was identifiable as mod- ern art but that featured readily identifiable meaningful content (e.g., Georgia O’Keefe flower paintings). Although classified as modern art, from a TMT perspective such an artwork should not pose a threat of meaninglessness. Therefore, liking for such a piece should not be affected by mortality salience, PNS, or the presence of a title. We thus had participants rate a modern artwork with easily identifiable meaning as well as one that seemed meaningless. In short, we hypothesized that mortality salient high-PNS par- ticipants would dislike a seemingly meaningless artwork but not one with minimally identifiable content, and that this effect would be eliminated if the piece was given a meaningful title. The title manipulation was not expected to affect evaluations of the con- tentful modern work because it posed no threat to meaning. Sup- port for this predicted pattern would indicate that the interactive effect of PNS and mortality salience is not in response to any pieces that are viewed as modern art but only art lacking in apparent meaning. Method Participants Ninety-five introductory psychology students (65 women and 30 men) participated in partial fulfillment of a class requirement. Materials and Procedure Participants were told the experiment concerned how personality factors relate to art preferences and that they would complete a packet of person- ality questionnaires and evaluate some artworks. The packets differed only in the mortality salience manipulation, the order of the artworks, and which of the two artworks had a meaningful title. After completing the packets, participants were debriefed. The packet began with Thompson et al.’s (2001) PNS scale followed by the same mortality salience manipulation, PANAS-X, and word-search puzzle used in Study 2. Participants were then instructed to examine two pieces of modern art: Jackson Pollock’s Guardians of the Secret and Constantin Brancusi’s The Beginning of the World. The Pollock piece (Figure 1), which served as our seemingly meaningless modern artwork, features a blue canvas with a white box in the middle flanked by vaguely depicted pillars and splotches of paint over the entire surface. The Brancusi piece is a photograph of a large egg-shaped rock on a wooden floor. The Brancusi piece is easily recognizable as an egg or a rock, so it served as our meaningful modern artwork.4 For half of the participants, Guardians of the Secret was presented with its title in bold letters underneath, whereas Beginning of the World was simply labeled #12. For the other participants, Beginning of the World was accompanied by its title, whereas Guardians was labeled #12. By adding the title to Guardians of the Secret, the white box in the middle becomes salient as “the secret” and the forms on each 4 A pilot investigation supported our assumption that participants readily perceived meaning in the Brancusi piece but not the Pollock piece. Details are available on request. Table 1 Mean Rankings for Genres of Art as a Function of Personal Need for Structure (PNS) and Mortality Salience in Study 2 Priming condition High PNS Low PNS M SD M SD Modern Mortality salience 6.5 1.04 4.8 1.41 Dental pain 5.3 1.61 5.4 1.62 Christian Mortality salience 3.3 1.59 4.0 1.33 Dental pain 3.3 1.27 3.4 1.03 Landscape Mortality salience 2.9 1.54 3.2 1.56 Dental pain 3.3 1.16 3.6 1.93 Non-Western Mortality salience 5.4 1.05 5.2 1.13 Dental pain 5.2 1.21 5.7 1.70 Note. Higher scores indicate lower relative appreciation. Scale ratings ranged from 1 to 8. 883DEATH, MEANINGLESSNESS, AND ART side appear as “the guardians”; in this way, the title sets a mysterious tone for the artwork and provides some insight into the artist’s intention. After each print were three art evaluation questions: “How much do you like this artwork?” “How much does this particular piece appeal to you at a gut level?” “Relative to other art you’ve seen, how interested would you be in checking out more art like this?” Responses were made on 9-point scales (1 � not at all, 9 � very much). Results and Discussion Art Impressions Because the three art evaluation questions demonstrated good re- liability for both pieces (�s � .92, .96), they were averaged to yield composite liking scores for each piece (actual composite scores ranged from 1–9 for the Pollock piece and 1– 8.33 for the Brancusi piece). We formed high- and low-PNS groups by means of median split and submitted the composite liking scores to a 2 (priming condition: mortality vs. dental pain; between-subjects) � 2 (high PNS vs. low PNS; between-subjects) � 2 (title vs. no title; between- subjects) � 2 (piece: Guardians of the Secret vs. Beginning of the World; within-subject) mixed ANOVA. The predicted four-way in- teraction was nonsignificant, F(1, 83) � 3.21, p � .08, �partial 2 � .03. However, this is an overly conservative test because we did not expect an opposite pattern among low-PNS participants. Therefore, we pro- ceeded to break down the interaction by examining the Mortality Salience � Title � Piece (within-subject) interaction separately within high- and low-PNS groups.5 The ANOVA revealed the pre- dicted three-way interaction within the high-PNS group, F(1, 42) � 4.17, p � .05, but not the low-PNS group, F(1, 45) � 1, p � .90. To interpret the pattern within the high-PNS group, we then analyzed liking scores for each piece. Guardians of the Secret. Within the high-PNS group, we performed a 2 (mortality vs. dental pain) � 2 (titled vs. untitled) ANOVA on ratings of Guardians of the Secret. A main effect for title revealed more liking for the titled work, F(1, 42) � 14.09, p � .001, which was qualified by the predicted interaction, F(1, 42) � 5.61, p � .02 (Table 2). Pairwise comparisons revealed that, as in Study 2, mortality salient high-PNS participants liked the untitled piece less than high-PNS participants in the dental pain condition, F(1, 42) � 5, 22, p � .03. Furthermore, mortality salient high-PNS participants who viewed the untitled piece liked it less than those 5 On the basis of our conceptualization of high-PNS individuals, we believed that this was the most appropriate way to interpret the four-way interaction. An alternative method is to examine the interaction among PNS, title, and piece (within) separately within mortality salience and dental pain conditions. The results of this analysis revealed the predicted three-way interaction within mortality salience, F(1, 44) � 5.00, p � .03, but not the dental pain condition (F � 1, p � .9). Furthermore, the PNS � Title interaction within the mortality salience and Guardians of the Secret conditions was significant; the pattern of means indicated that high-PNS participants who evaluated the untitled piece rated it less favorably than low-PNS participants who rated the untitled piece and high-PNS partici- pants who rated the titled piece. Figure 1. Jackson Pollock’s Guardians of the Secret used in Study 3. Reproduced with permission. © 2005 The Pollock-Krasner Foundation/Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York. 884 LANDAU ET AL. who viewed the titled piece, F(1, 42) � 10.10, p � .01. Viewed differently, there was no hint that mortality salient high-PNS participants derogated the abstract artwork when it was given a meaningful title. No other comparisons attained significance (all Fs � 1.90, ps � .2). Beginning of the World. The same analyses performed on evaluations of Beginning of the World revealed no effects of mortality salience, title, or their interaction (Fs � 1, ps � .4; see Table 2). It is unlikely that these null results are due to a floor effect given that the means in all conditions were about 3— one third of the scale—and could certainly have been lower. As in Study 2, high-PNS participants responded to mortality salience with especially negative evaluations of modern, seem- ingly meaningless art. However, this effect was eliminated when the same piece was given a meaningful title. Also, the mortality- induced distaste for untitled modern art was specific to a visually chaotic, meaningless piece; mortality salient high-PNS participants did not derogate an artwork labeled as modern art but that con- veyed readily identifiable content. This suggests that for those chronically disposed to structure their environments in clear and orderly ways, modern art is often disturbing because its perceived meaninglessness conflicts with their need for simple meaning, a need that serves a terror management function; if the piece is imbued with or conveys apparent meaning, this mortality-induced distaste is eliminated. Study 4 The results of Study 3 demonstrate that adding a title to a meaningless artwork eliminated the mortality-induced distaste among high-PNS participants. In Study 4 we were interested in replicating this effect with different artworks and a different means of lending art meaning. In addition to explanatory texts, a powerful method of lending meaning and organization to a stimulus is to relate it to personal experience (e.g., Tulving, 1962). In this way, even untrained viewers who lack a technical vocabulary can draw on personal experiences to provide a personal frame of reference within which to interpret novel aesthetic stimuli. Indeed, those who appreciate modern art often relate to pieces as expressions of personal feelings rather than as representations of objects in the world (Kandinsky, 1977; Meier, 1942). Because it is the visual disorder of these pieces that renders them meaningless, we ex- pected that high-PNS individuals who vividly imagined them- selves in an unfamiliar, disordered situation, as opposed to a familiar and structured situation, would subsequently have a per- sonal frame of reference to make sense of a seemingly chaotic artwork, and that this would attenuate the mortality-induced aver- sion toward that work. To assess this possibility, we followed a mortality salience manipulation with a vivid imagery task designed to activate in half the participants a personal frame of reference that would render a disordered artwork more meaningful. The results of Study 3 also show that mortality salient high-PNS participants did not derogate a modern artwork that conveyed recognizable content. In the current study, we were interested in whether conventional visual structure would also alleviate the aversion to modern abstract art. It is notable that not all uses of abstraction entail visually chaotic conglomerations of dissonant forms and colors. Geometric patterns have marked the course of art from prehistoric times onward (Dissanayake, 1988; Gombrich, 1984). Indeed, people seem quite comfortable with the geometric abstractions of neckties and carpets. Within the world of modern art, abstraction was central to the Minimalist movement, which sought to strip painting down to its fundamental features by arranging simple, flat shapes, right angles, and primary colors into austere compositions with a universally comprehensible frame of reference. A central Minimalist painter was Joseph Albers, whose paintings contain no representational content but were composed in accordance with aesthetic principles of clarity, symmetry, and order; we did not expect such a piece to be disliked by mortality salient high-PNS participants. In short, we hypothesized that mortality salient high-PNS par- ticipants would dislike a visually chaotic piece but not one with structured visual order, and that this effect would be eliminated if participants had earlier imagined a personal experience with chaos and disorder. Method Participants Ninety-two introductory psychology students (38 men and 54 women) participated in fulfillment of a course requirement. Materials and Procedure Participants were recruited to take part in two separate experiments described as studies of personality characteristics and perceptions of paint- ings. After entering cubicles, they were administered a personality packet, which differed only in the mortality salience and personal frame of refer- ence manipulations. As in Studies 2 and 3, Thompson et al.’s (2001) PNS Scale was included after two filler personality questionnaires. Mortality salience was manip- ulated as in the previous studies, except that the aversive control topic was the experience of social exclusion. Participants then completed a personal experience prime presented as an exercise in personal imagery. The in- structions were as follows: “How people imagine themselves in certain situations can tell us a lot about their personality. We’d like you to imagine being in the situation described below. As you’re reading the description, try to picture vividly in your head the situation described.” Participants in the frame of reference (chaos) condition were asked to imagine being in a strange city where the people speak an unfamiliar Table 2 Mean Liking for Meaningless and Meaningful Art as a Function of Mortality Salience, Personal Need for Structure (PNS), and Title in Study 3 Priming condition High PNS Low PNS Titled Untitled Titled Untitled M SD M SD M SD M SD Meaningless art: Guardians of the Secret Mortality salience 6.1 2.31 3.2 1.63 4.8 2.38 5.4 2.68 Dental pain 5.9 1.63 5.0 2.32 5.7 1.96 5.2 2.48 Meaningful art: Beginning of the World Mortality salience 3.2 2.13 2.5 1.78 3.0 2.43 2.6 1.55 Dental pain 2.9 2.33 2.6 1.57 3.6 2.25 3.0 2.09 Note. Higher scores indicate higher liking. Scale ratings ranged from 1 to 9. 885DEATH, MEANINGLESSNESS, AND ART language and the people and the place appear nonsensical. Those in the no frame of reference (order) condition were asked to imagine being in a familiar city that seems like home and where everything about the people and the place makes sense. Participants then read the following instruc- tions: “Now that you’ve imagined yourself in this situation, we’d like you to write in the space below how you might feel in this situation. What kinds of thoughts would go through your head? How would you feel? Do your best to describe how you would feel in this situation.” These instructions were followed by eight double-spaced lines. Participants answered two manipulation check questions: “How confused would you be in a place like this?” “How easy would it be for you to understand this place and its people?” Responses were made on 7-point scales (1 � not at all, 7 � very much). A pilot study found that this frame of reference induction did increase the perceived meaningfulness of the visually chaotic painting used in the present study.6 The PANAS-X followed the personal frame of reference prime. After completing the personality packet and placing it in a box, partic- ipants were instructed to turn on the monitor in front of them and follow the instructions on the screen. Using MediaLab software (Jarvis, 2004), we instructed participants to examine two modern paintings (in counterbal- anced order): Kandinsky’s Composition VI and Albers’s Homage to the Square. The Kandinsky piece (Figure 2) is a chaotic collection of incon- gruent, colliding forms and colors. The Albers piece is a highly structured arrangement of three nested and linearly structured squares painted in a single color scheme. For each painting, participants responded to three questions on 7-point scales (1 � not at all, 7 � very much): “How much do you like this artwork?” “How much does this particular piece appeal to you at a gut level?” “Relative to other art you’ve seen, how interested would you be in checking out more art like this?” Results and Discussion Personal Frame of Reference Manipulation Check Participants who imagined a chaotic experience imagined feel- ing more confused (M � 6.1, SD � 1.26) than those who imagined an ordered experience (M � 3.4, SD � 2.1), F(1, 90) � 53.10, p � .001. Chaos-primed participants also imagined being less able to understand the experience (M � 3.2, SD � 1.61) than order- primed participants (M � 5.3, SD � 1.51), F(1, 90) � 39.45, p � .001. These results suggest that the frame of reference prime successfully activated feelings of chaos or order. Art Impressions The three art evaluation questions had a high degree of internal consistency (�s for both pieces � .91), so we analyzed their average (actual composite scores ranged from 1–7 for the Kand- insky piece and 1– 6.7 for the Albers piece). These scores were submitted to a 2 (priming manipulation: mortality vs. social ex- clusion; between-subjects) � 2 (high PNS vs. low PNS; between- subjects) � 2 (frame of reference prime: chaos vs. order; between- subjects) � 2 (piece: Composition VI vs. Homage to the Square; within-subject) mixed ANOVA. Supporting the idea that the Kan- dinsky but not the Albers piece threatens meaning, we obtained a marginal Mortality Salience � Piece interaction, F(1, 84) � 2.62, p � .10, such that a preference for the Kandinsky over the Albers piece in the exclusion salience condition was eliminated in the mortality salience condition. We also obtained a PNS � Piece interaction, F(1, 84) � 4.58, p � .04, such that low-PNS partici- pants liked the Kandinsky piece more than the Albers piece, but this preference was reversed for high-PNS participants. More important, the significant four-way interaction emerged, F(1, 84) � 4.24, p � .04. To interpret this interaction, we performed separate ANOVAs for each piece. 6 Specifically, we had 19 participants from the same pool as in Study 4 complete either the chaos or order prime and then rate the Kandinsky piece on three questions—“How meaningful is this painting to you?” “How well can you relate to this painting?” “To what extent do you think this painting expresses something?”—which were averaged to form a meaningfulness composite (� � .85). Participants in the chaos prime condition rated the chaotic artwork as more meaningful (M � 6.1) than those in the order prime condition (M � 4.4), t(17) � 2.15, p � .04. Figure 2. Wassily Kandinsky’s Composition VI used in Study 4. Reproduced with permission. © 2005 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York/ADAGP, Paris. 886 LANDAU ET AL. Composition VI A Mortality Salience � PNS � Frame of Reference ANOVA for the Kandinsky ratings revealed only a significant three-way interaction, F(1, 84) � 4.53, p � .04. In support of our hypothesis, the pattern of means presented in Table 3 and pairwise compari- sons revealed that mortality salient high-PNS participants who were asked to think about order liked the visually chaotic piece significantly less than exclusion salient high-PNS participants who thought about order, F(1, 84) � 7.45, p � .008, and mortality salient low-PNS participants who thought about order, F(1, 84) � 5.93, p � .02. Furthermore, mortality salient, order-primed, high- PNS participants liked the visually chaotic piece less than mortal- ity salient high-PNS participants who imagined a personal encoun- ter with chaos, F(1, 84) � 4.32, p � .04. This pattern of results demonstrates that mortality salient high-PNS participants did not derogate the visually chaotic piece if they had previously imagined a chaotic experience. Homage to the Square The same analysis performed on perceptions of the visually structured piece revealed only a main effect for PNS, such that high-PNS participants liked the piece more (M � 3.3, SD � 1.56) than low-PNS participants (M � 2.6, SD � 1.40), F(1, 84) � 4.03, p � .05 (all other Fs � 1.40, ps � .3; see Table 3). These results confirm our hypothesis that mortality salient high- PNS participants would dislike a chaotic, fragmented modern artwork, but that this effect would be eliminated if, before viewing it, they vividly imagined a personal experience that provided a personal frame of reference relevant to the piece. Furthermore, this effect was specific to a visually chaotic piece; high-PNS partici- pants actually liked a highly structured piece more than low-PNS participants, but these evaluations were not affected by mortality salience, frame of reference manipulation, or their interaction. Taken together with the results of Study 3, these results indicate that those prone to simple structure dislike seemingly meaningless art when mortality concerns are made salient. When a meaningless artwork is imbued with meaning, either through the use of a descriptive title (Study 3) or a personally relevant experience that meaningfully relates to the piece (Study 4), the mortality-induced aversion is eliminated. The results of Studies 3 and 4 allow us to rule out the explana- tion that the simple recognition of the pieces as modern art ac- counts for the observed reactions. For one, this explanation could not easily account for the effects of title or frame of reference manipulations. Also, although evaluations for modern artworks with recognizable content (Study 3) or a highly structured com- position (Study 4) were not favorable overall, they were not affected by mortality salience or its interaction with PNS. These findings also undermine another alternative: that mortality salience simply increases preexisting aesthetic preferences among high- and low-PNS individuals. General Discussion By examining the aesthetic preferences of untrained viewers, four studies tested predictions derived from TMT concerning the psychological threat of meaninglessness: the inability to under- stand or experience one kind of thing in terms of another. Accord- ing to TMT, meaninglessness is threatening because maintaining a basic comprehension of the world is a critical component of how people imbue life with death-transcending meaning and signifi- cance. Increasing the salience of mortality should, therefore, en- gender negative evaluations of artworks that are seemingly devoid of meaning, particularly for those chronically invested in simple, unambiguous knowledge, and this effect should be eliminated when these artworks are imbued with meaning. Our results provide strong support for these predictions. Study 1 showed that mortality salience diminished affection for modern artworks. Study 2 showed that this effect was moderated by individual differences in PNS; mortality primes decreased liking for meaningless, but not meaningful, artworks among high-PNS participants. This effect was replicated in Study 3, and it was also shown that mortality salience did not affect high-PNS participants’ evaluations of a modern artwork that had been imbued with meaning through an explanatory title. Study 4 explored another common way of im- buing art with meaning—relating it to personal experience—and found that mortality salient high-PNS participants derogated a visually chaotic artwork unless they had been previously primed with an experiential basis for interpreting the artwork. Studies 3 and 4 also showed that mortality salient high-PNS participants were not reacting to anything specifically objectionable about the category of modern art per se; evaluations of pieces presented as modern art but featuring readily identifiable meaning or a high degree of visual structure were not affected by mortality salience, title, or personal frame of reference manipulations or their inter- action with PNS. Considering an Alternative Explanation Although our findings converge on the idea that mortality sa- lient high-PNS participants are reacting negatively to the apparent meaninglessness of the artworks, one possible alternative expla- nation is that mortality primes increased the accessibility of death- related themes, leading meaning-seeking high-PNS participants to perceive more disturbing death-related imagery in the ambiguous, Table 3 Mean Liking for Visually Chaotic and Visually Structured Art as a Function of Mortality Salience, Personal Need for Structure (PNS), and Personal Frame of Reference in Study 4 Priming condition High PNS Low PNS Frame No frame Frame No frame M SD M SD M SD M SD Visually chaotic art: Composition VI Mortality salience 4.3 2.00 2.9 1.52 3.9 1.68 4.8 1.79 Social exclusion 3.8 1.77 5.0 1.50 4.2 1.51 4.6 1.44 Visually structured art: Homage to the Square Mortality salience 3.3 1.68 3.2 1.25 2.6 1.73 3.3 1.37 Social exclusion 3.8 1.69 2.6 1.56 2.0 1.29 2.4 1.18 Note. Higher scores indicate higher liking. Scale ratings ranged from 1 to 7. 887DEATH, MEANINGLESSNESS, AND ART abstract works.7 We believe this alternative is unlikely because the abstract pieces used (e.g., the Pollock depicted in Figure 1 and a Rothko consisting of splotchy patches of bright color) do not seem to lend themselves at all to death-related themes, whereas the crucifix painting used in Study 2 does. To further examine this alternative, we ran a supplementary study in which, after a measure of PNS, the mortality salience treatment and a delay, 40 participants from the same pool of participants as Studies 3 and 4 were shown the Pollock from Study 3 (see Figure 1), the Kandinsky from Study 4 (see Figure 2), and The Crucifixion and Dutch landscape paintings from Study 2 (in one of two random orders, all without titles) each for 2 min and asked to write a paragraph offering any interpretations or ideas brought to mind by each painting. We then had two raters who were unaware of our purpose count death-related words in each paragraph. The two raters were in high agreement in their counts (r � .93). If mortality salience led high-PNS people to perceive death-related themes in the abstract paintings, we should find an interaction between PNS and painting on number of death-related words. However, a 2 (high PNS vs. low PNS; between-subjects) � 4 (painting; within-subject) mixed ANOVA yielded only a main effect of painting, indicating that the paragraphs about The Cru- cifixion painting contained significantly more death-related words than the paragraphs about the landscape, t(39) � 2.98, p � .005, and Kandinsky paintings, t(39) � 2.63, p � .01. No other com- parisons approached significance. The mean for the two abstract paintings was .10, suggesting very little perception of death-related themes. Furthermore, if high-PNS people were prone to perceive death-related themes in the abstract paintings, we would expect positive correlations between PNS and number of death-related words in response to those paintings. In fact, for the Pollock, there was no correlation (r � .03, ns) and for the Kandinsky, the correlation was actually negative (r � �.32, p � .05). Mortality Salience, Structure, and Meaning Terror management research has found that people deal with the problem of death using a variety of defenses, including defense of specific aspects of their cultural worldview, investment in roman- tic relationships, increased self-esteem striving, and denial of the corporeal aspects of the self (for review, see Solomon et al., 2004). Research (Landau, Johns, et al., 2004; Schimel et al., 1999) has assessed another mode of defense that figures centrally in the earliest theoretical articulations of TMT: the organization of in- formation in basic, nonspecific ways to maintain a clear and consistent conception of the world, and the consequent devaluing of anything that threatens to undermine those epistemic goals. These earlier studies demonstrated a preference for intrapersonal and interpersonal consistency and for beliefs in a just and benev- olent world. However, TMT posits that people need a worldview that is not only orderly but that imbues reality with meaning as well. A lack of consistency or just outcomes does not necessarily imply a lack of meaning. Imbalanced social relations or a person who vacillates between extraversion and introversion can still be viewed as meaningful. The present studies, in contrast, directly examine the central issue of meaning and the role of mortality concerns in instigating at least those invested in simple structure to derogate stimuli that do not seem meaningful. These results may also help explain the historically prevalent tendency for some people to dismiss and condemn art that they consider meaningless. Moreover, these findings have considerable implications for social issues: Although interpersonal and inter- group enmity often stem from specific points of contention, there may also be cases in which people devalue and dismiss others simply because their beliefs, appearance, or actions appear non- sensical. Of course, further research is needed to examine the role of mortality concerns in reactions to other stimuli that seem to lack meaning. Which Is the Basic Threat: Mortality or Meaninglessness? This is surely a very thorny question. The original formulation of TMT posits that knowledge of mortality is the ultimate psycho- logical threat because it conflicts with a variety of biological systems designed to keep the individual alive. From this perspec- tive, people need to view life as meaningful to help deny the possibility that death is the absolute end of one’s existence. There- fore, reminders of mortality heighten the need to protect and bolster psychological structures that help people sustain the sense that life is meaningful. An alternative interpretation of the effects of mortality salience might be based on the idea that meaninglessness is the ultimate threat. The knowledge of mortality is a severe threat to believing that life is meaningful, and so reminders of mortality increase people’s need to protect and bolster psychological structures that help people sustain the sense that life is meaningful. If this latter view were correct, it might not change much about TMT or its implications. Mortality is probably the most severe threat to be- lieving that life is meaningful: Not only will every individual die, but so will all whom one cares about and, as science suggests, so eventually will our entire species. All humans carry this threaten- ing knowledge—that death is the only inevitability—with them throughout their lives and must defend against it. It may be that this conceptual issue—whether the need for meaning is caused by the need to deny death as absolute annihi- lation or the need to deny death as absolute annihilation is caused by the need for meaning—is not fully resolvable. However, we believe that at this point there are conceptual and empirical reasons to favor the original terror management position. First, we believe that TMT is far more comprehensive than any meaning-based theories of which we are aware. TMT was originally formulated to help explain the human need for meaning. Indeed, Ernest Becker’s (1971) first book, which provided much of the conceptual basis of TMT, was titled The Birth and Death of Meaning. TMT views the knowledge of death as the ultimate psychological threat because it conflicts with our biological predispositions toward continued existence. A meaningful worldview in which one can feel signif- icant and enduring provides a basis for denying that death is the end of existence. Viewing meaninglessness as the ultimate threat would require a theory that explains why meaning is so funda- mentally important, independent of its role in quelling concerns about death. In addition, an analysis focused on meaning as the fundamental concern would have to explain why people do not seem to want just any version of meaning. Beliefs in an immortal soul and afterlife have been central to the vast majority of known cultures, and all worldviews seem to provide not just meaning but meaning 7 We thank an anonymous reviewer for pointing this out. 888 LANDAU ET AL. that is geared toward a benign conception of reality in which one can feel protected, significant, and enduring. Thus, meaning sys- tems are geared toward not just any meaning, but meaning that supports the possibility of either literal or symbolic death transcen- dence to those of value within the context of their stability, order, and meaning providing worldviews. Would people prefer to live forever knowing that life has no larger meaning beyond the pleasures and joys of the arts, food, sex, sports, and so forth or to live as mortals in life with a certain deep meaning (e.g., providing a service to a deity before being abso- lutely annihilated at death)? We suspect immortality would be the popular choice, but such conscious decisions would not provide definitive empirical evidence, particularly because neither option is all that plausible to many people. There is, however, other evidence that bears fairly directly on the death versus meaninglessness issue. As previously noted, the specific content of worldviews past and present supports the orig- inal TMT position. In addition, there is experimental evidence that we believe supports the original TMT view. First, Baldwin and Wesley (1996) directly compared a mortality salience treatment and a meaninglessness salience treatment and found that the mean- inglessness salience treatment did not reproduce the mortality salience effect. Similarly, other control conditions that might im- ply meaninglessness, such as thoughts of paralysis, pain, and social exclusion, have failed to reproduce mortality salience effects (see Solomon et al., 2004).8 Research on death thought accessibility also supports the spe- cific role of death-related thoughts in mortality salience effects. Studies show that threats to meaning, such as a threat to the belief in a just world (Landau, Johns, et al., 2004), threats to personal significance such as reminders of one’s animality (Goldenberg, Pyszczynski, McCoy, Greenberg, & Solomon, 1999), and threats to a romantic relationship (Mikulincer, Florian, & Hirschberger, 2003), increase death thought accessibility. Additional research using subliminal death primes shows that increased death thought accessibility, even in the absence of conscious contemplation of death, leads to increased accessibility of worldview-related con- structs and increased worldview defense (Arndt, Greenberg, & Cook, 2002; Arndt, Greenberg, Pyszczynski, & Solomon, 1997). Studies also show that increased defense of the worldview reduces death thought accessibility to baseline levels (e.g., Arndt, Green- berg, Solomon, Pyszczynski, & Simon, 1997), and that worldview defense is motivated by the potential to experience anxiety aroused by thoughts of death (J. Greenberg et al., 2003). Finally, as TMT predicts, many mortality salience effects involve increased self- esteem striving and defense rather than meaning bolstering. For example, mortality salience increases displays of physical strength (Peters, Greenberg, Williams, & Schneider, 2005) and driving skills (Taubman Ben-Ari, Florian, & Mikulincer, 1999) among those who base their self-worth partly on those dimensions and increased distancing from in-group identifications when the in- group is framed negatively (Arndt, Greenberg, Schimel, Pyszczyn- ski, & Solomon, 2002). These findings support the original TMT formulation because one’s personal accomplishments do not make the world more meaningful; rather, they protect and enhance one’s value within a world of meaning. In view of these conceptual arguments and empirical studies, we believe the case for the primacy of the threat of mortality is strong. Nevertheless, there is certainly a need for more research on various existential threats such as death, alienation, uncertainty, freedom, and meaninglessness, how people cope with them, and how they relate to each other (see J. Greenberg, Koole, & Pyszczynski, 2004, for current research programs on such topics). The Role of PNS The current studies, along with other TMT research, suggests that PNS is an important moderator of a number of mortality salience effects related to meaning and structure, including aver- sion to behaviorally inconsistent others (Landau, Johns, et al., 2004), striving for self-concept coherence (Landau, Greenberg, Solomon, Martens, & Pyszczynski, 2004), rigid adherence to clear group boundaries (Dechesne et al., 2000), and preference for stereotype-consistent others (Schimel et al., 1999). Further re- search is needed to assess whether PNS moderates other defensive inclinations in response to mortality salience as well. These studies also raise interesting questions about how low- PNS individuals respond to mortality salience. The present find- ings suggest that low-PNS people are more open to stimuli that challenge simple structure and may thus characterize the type of person willing and able to develop meaningful views of initially meaningless stimuli such as nonrepresentational art. This may be because, as prior theorizing and research (Kruglanski, 1989; Thompson et al., 2001) suggest, low-PNS individuals are better able to suspend epistemic judgment, assimilate the exceptional and unusual into their existing knowledge structures, and accommo- date those structures in light of new experiences. Given our analysis, one might also wonder why high-PNS participants did not respond to mortality salience with an increased liking for meaningful art. We suggest that people are generally fully embedded in an everyday world of meaning and significance, owing to the seemingly immediate and effortless ability to per- ceive and infer meaningful objects and relations in an integrated perceptual unity; therefore, people are rarely aware of meaning as a problem to be solved. We thus would not expect the perception of basic meaning (e.g., perceiving an egg) to elicit a positive response. Rather, losing touch with basic meaning seems more subjectively potent. In addition, art preferences are highly idiosyn- cratic, and the artworks used were unfamiliar to the participants. Although we might expect someone with a strong affinity toward Kandinsky’s paintings, for example, to like them more after mor- tality salience, our studies had diverse participants evaluating unfamiliar works, so we did not expect that the mere identification of some culturally familiar objects or visual structure would nec- essarily increase aesthetic enjoyment. 8 Some studies have found that salience of uncertainty produces effects similar to mortality salience (McGregor, Zanna, Holmes, & Spencer, 2001; van den Bos, 2001). However, other more recent studies have found quite different effects for mortality and uncertainty salience (Friedman & Arndt, 2005; Landau, Johns, et al., 2004; Martens, Greenberg, Schimel, & Landau, 2004; Routledge, Arndt, & Goldenberg, 2004). Perhaps mortality sometimes arouses uncertainty concerns, sometimes thoughts of uncer- tainty arouse death-related thoughts (Chaudary, Tison, & Solomon, 2002), or these threats simply have similar effects on some variables but not others. It is also uncertain whether uncertainty primarily relates to issues of meaning, self-worth, or anxiety. 889DEATH, MEANINGLESSNESS, AND ART Toward a Broader Conception of Artistic Meaning and Terror Management We fly to beauty from the terrors of finite nature. —Ralph Waldo Emerson, Ralph Waldo Emerson: Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks In virtually every known culture, art has served a critical meaning-lending function, so it would be useful to consider briefly the broader significance of art in terror management. An artwork’s departure from convincing lifelike renderings is often intended to encourage the viewer to consider possibilities of human experience beyond their own or apprehend the world in a way that lies beyond their existing knowledge (Breton, 1924/1969; Gombrich, 1984; Kandinsky, 1977). However, if art violates the minimal condition of meaningfulness, these loftier engagements with art, however central to a full understanding of the aesthetic response, may be undermined, at least for some people. We believe that this insight into aesthetic judgment can provide a window into why people are so rigidly reluctant to suspend their preconceptions in other do- mains as well. Additionally, art can serve terror management in a variety of ways (see Dissanayake, 1988, for a broader, more thorough treat- ment of the nature and function of art). At the most basic level, representational art immortalizes the ephemeral; it fixes something outside of the flow of time, transforming a transient object or moment into a thing more permanent. Although the bison depicted in cave art, King Tut, and the Mona Lisa all died long ago, their images remain with us to this day. As John Keats phrased it in his classic poem “Ode on a Grecian Urn,” Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! (Keats, 1820/1991, p. 37) Beyond immortalizing the objects and moments depicted, art can also serve to immortalize the artist. Poets, novelists, compos- ers, and painters constitute a large percentage of the few humans who are remembered centuries after their deaths. Indeed, we suggest that many living humans hold out the secret hope that they will live on somehow through their creative efforts. In addition to their value for the objects depicted and the artists themselves, artistic symbols are often imbued with arcane meaning that can lend tangible form to, and thereby enhance the apparent veridical- ity of, collectively held constructs that have no material existence (e.g., Zen gardens and Gothic cathedrals both serve as allegories intimately tied to local belief systems). Art has also been useful for maintaining an illusion of control and protection by reifying and personifying supernatural agents and, furthermore, by providing a vehicle by which people can appeal to them to ensure safety and prosperity (e.g., rain dances). Finally, art can also powerfully convey symbolic constructs such as love that elevate our essen- tially corporeal affectations (e.g., sex) to supernatural significance. In sum, art has the potential to contribute critically to beliefs in the significance of ordinary experience and the existence of ex- traordinary worlds, helping to imbue reality with an overall sense of order, beauty, and purpose, thereby helping people to maintain psychological equanimity in the face of death while simulta- neously enjoying the intrinsic satisfaction that comes with novelty and exploration. This conception of art and its meaning-conferring functions clearly requires further investigation. However, we be- lieve the present work serves as a preliminary step by showing that terror management needs can prevent people oriented toward sim- ple structure from deriving these benefits when the artwork’s perceived chaos or vacuity hinders the maintenance of a meaning- ful conception of the world. References Arndt, J., Greenberg, J., & Cook, A. (2002). 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work_4ekexnvvbfbe3db2x47qxrzdne	----	On Replacing Peer Review with Legal Challenge in Scientific Research: An Opinion PMlip J. Held Friedrich K Port, Robert A. Wolfe, Nathan W. Levin, and Marc N Turenne U W e r s H y of Michlgon Schools of Medicine and Public Health Ann Arbor, Michigan (PJH, FV, RAW, MNT) and Beth kad Medlcal Center, New York New York (NW) We appreciate the invitation from the editor of Seminars in Dialysis to express our opinions about a topic that is very acute in our personal and pro- fessional lives. In March 1993, Minntech Corpora- tion, which sells Renalina, filed a lawsuit in the United States District Court for the District of Maryland against the five authors of this editorial (plus one other person). Minntech is seeking over one million dollars in damages from us as individu- a l s based on our reports of scientific research find- ings. The suit claims damages to Minntech because our research had suggested an association of mortality nsks with the use of certain reuse agents, including Re&*, in conventional dialyzers in freestanding di- alysis units. Minntech subsequently publicized many of its allegations in letters to various journals ( 1 4 ) . Until now, in our pursuit of scientific objectivity, we have abstained from publishing any written re- sponse to what we view as an unfounded legal suit. Our primary goal to date has been to publish the scientific results through the peer review process and to let the renal community judge the merit of this research. In fact, at the time of this writing the scientific research paper in question has been ac- cepted and is in press at the American Journal of Kidney Diseases ( 5 ) . Minntech’s decision to pursue litigation has been a subject of comment in this and other journals. A recent editorial by C. M. Kjellstrand in a previous issue of this journal (6) describes some of Minn- tech’s allegations. Other publications have ap- plauded the right for a legal challenge to scientific research (7) or have provided possible mechanisms and discussion explaining the associations that we reported (8-10). These publications follow other re- lated research (1 1-15). Although we are in agreement with much of Dr. Kjellstrand’s editorial, there are two assumptions in Dr. Kjellstrand’s editorial that require clarification and correction. Furthermore, we believe that the largely unilateral publicity and the assertions by Minntech should not go unanswered. Dr. KJellstrand Suggests that the Research May Have Been Presented T o o H a s t i l y Quite the contrary is the case. At the time of our discussions with representatives of several Federal AddresJ conespondence to: Philip J. Held PhD. Univenity of hAichicpn. 315 West Huron--sUlte 240, Ann Arbor. MI 48103. Seminan in Dh&i.GVd 7. No 2 p l a r a ) 1994 pp 98-102 agencies, the research process regarding reuse ger- micides and patient outcomes had been underway for more than a year. The results of a pilot study had been reviewed by the Scientific Advisory Com- mittee of the USRDS in June and September of 1592. The national study that was the focus of dis- cussions and review with federal health agencies (our present study) followed up this earlier re- search, and analytical work had been intensely pur- sued for at least five months. After discussing and reviewing our findings with federal health officials, we were directed by the Health Care Financing Administration (HCFA, the funding agency) to meet with representatives from HCFA, the Centers for Disease Control and Pre- vention (CDC) and the Food and Drug Administra- tion (FDA). To further discuss these results, we presented these findings to epidemiologists, statis- ticians, and other representatives of these agencies at several meetings in September 1992. Throughout this process, we were instructed by the sponsors of the research (HCFA) that the results were to be considered confidential. After these meetings, the FDA concluded that it was appropriate to schedule an invited session on October 8, 1992. At the FDA’s request, the authors presented their research find- ings at that meeting. The findings were also pre- sented to the dialysis community at the Annual Meeting of the American Society of Nephrology (ASN) in November 1592. In short, the study was thorough and precise, with careful and deliberate attention to detail. The authors communicated with Minntech repre- sentatives on numerous occasions in October and November 1992 and also met with several Minntech executives. During this period, the authors ex- plained their analytical methods and results to Minntech, provided statistical output to Minntech, and considered Minntech’s disagreements with the research. As part of a prepublication review pro- cess, a draft version of the study manuscript was sent in February 1993 for comment to federal of% cials who had been involved in the previous review process. A copy was also sent to Minntech and, as is normal in the scientific process, copies were also sent to a few knowledgeable researchers in the renal community for review. Minntech did not provide comments on the draft and instead proceeded with a lawsuit. In the course of studying and reporting data with potentially significant public health implications, we have proceeded in a careful, responsible, and 98 ON REPLACING PEER 99 ethical manner. Suppressing, delaying, or otherwise withholding these findings from federal agencies or the dialysis community would have been wholly in- consistent with our obligations as researchers and with the interests of patients and dialysis providers. In our opinion, stopping or delaying publication of this paper and chilling open discussion of these find- ings have been major objectives of Minntech’s law- suit against the six authors. Dr. Kjellstrands Editorial Addressed Minntech’s Asserted Inability to Gain Access to the Underlying Data Used in our Analyses We agree with the principle that data upon which public health findings are based should be available for evaluation and assessment by the medical com- munity. At the same time, because much of these data involves medical information about identified patients, there is an obvious need for appropriate safeguards to protect the privacy of these patients. We have at all times willingly cooperated with both Minntech and federal health agencies in reconciling these interests. All researchers who work with patient data of the kind used in this research must, according to federal law (the Privacy Act, 5 U.S.C. Section 552 a [il 131, sign a confidentiality agreement not to release the data. The authors were therefore bound by federal law to keep the data confidential and not release them (Minntech was informed of this before it filed its lawsuit). Since the authors support the right of all researchers to carry out their own analysis of these data files, the authors met with representa- tives from Minntech and the Federal government in November 1992 to explain exactly how to go about gaining access to the data through submission of a research protocol. At Minntech’s request, the authors referred Minntech to a research firm that had had prior ac- cess to the federal data and could assist Minntech in obtaining and evaluating the data using the research protocol route that is open to all researchers. Minntech engaged this firm and notified its clients, the government, and the renal community that this firm, using the federal data, would be conducting its own analysis of the questions raised by our paper. Shortly thereafter, however, Minntech decided not to have this firm proceed with its plan to submit a research protocol, obtain the data, and conduct sta- tistical research. We do not h o w the basis for Minntech’s decision. We have seen no evidence that Minntech notified its clients or the renal com- munity of its change in plans. Minntech instead chose to pursue litigation against the United States (in addition to its separate litigation against the authors), seeking the underly- ing medical data under the Freedom of Information Act. For present purposes, we need not speculate on the merits of that case or on Minntech’s motives for pursuing litigation rather than following the more conventional research process for obtaining access to these data. It is clear, however, that we have in no way concealed the data used in our anal- yses from Minntech, and any suggestion to that ef- fect is untrue. To the contrary, we made substantial efforts to help Minntech understand our research, gain access to the underlying data, and engage in independent analysis. Minntech Has Incorrectly implied That There Was a Conflict of Interest and the Research Was Biased Against Minntech Minntech has also attempted to discredit the re- search findings by attacking the messengers. Minntech’s implication that any of the six research- ers was biased or had a conflict of interest is not supported by the facts. (Notably, while Minntech was asserting this conflict of interest, Minntech it- self repeatedly relied on research findings and pre- sentations by Alan Collins, MD, often without any mention of the fact that Dr. Collins had been a paid consultant for Minntech.) The study initially presented at the FDA and ASN meetings was for patients treated in freestand- ing units which used predominantly conventional dialyzers. This subpopulation of the total U.S. di- alysis population was chosen before any analyses were done for two reasons: (i) since the database had limited information on comorbidities (age, race, gender, cause of renal failure), patients in freestand- ing units were chosen as a more stable and more homogeneous population than if patients treated in hospital units had been included; and (ii) since high- flux dialyzers are rarely used without reprocessing, we considered it difficult to find an adequate control group of units employing only single use. Thus our design was rational, consistent with previous re- search designs, and not driven by bias or selection of the most striking results. Subsequent analyses of other patient groups, including patients in hospital- based dialysis units and patients in units using high- flux dialyzers, are also reported in the final publi- cation ( 5 ) . Regarding the authors and alleged conflicts of in- terest stemming from financial and other economic forces related to the issue of dialyzer reuse and Minntech, let us clearly state the facts. First, from the outset of this research, the authors never had a predisposition against dialy zer reuse. To the contrary, several of the authors had previ- ously published findings supportive of reuse ( 1 6 17). (Notably, Mmtech has cited some of these pro-reuse findings in its product literature; appar- ently these favorable findings were not considered the product of bias). Indeed, after our research was presented to the government and the ASN, and prior to the filing of the lawsuit, Dr. Levin wrote an editorial in this journal that was supportive of reuse and urged that our findings be interpreted cau- tiously (18). Dr. Levin’s editorial cautioned (as we have in all presentations of these research findings) that the associations found in our analysis should not be interpreted as showing a causal relationship between Rendin@ reuse and mortality. 100 Held et at Second, our dialysis reuse research has been funded exclusively by agencies of the United States Government. No corporation or other private orga- nization had any involvement in the research, with the exception of our request for comments from Minntech and another company that currently sells a glutaraldehyde-based germicide.’ Finally, as to other activities of the authors, Drs. Held, Port, and Levin have spoken at professional meetings sponsored by manufacturers of dialysis products for which they received a speaker’s hon- orarium and travel expenses. In the case of Drs. Held and Port, the sponsor was the Baxter Health Care Corporation; for Dr. Levin the sponsor was Fresenius USA, Inc. Baxter has provided research support to the University of Michigan, Dr. Port’s professional base; Fresenius AG, a German corpo- ration, has provided research support to Beth Israel Medical Center, the professional base of Dr. Levin. Neither this research support nor the speaking en- gagements had anything to do with dialyzer reuse activities. In addition, Dr. Wolfe has consulted with National Medical Care, Inc., on issues undated to dialyzer reuse. Beth Israel Medical Center has been involved in the development of dialyzer heat steril- ization, a method for the reprocessing of dialyzers. This research has been conducted at no financial advantage to Dr. Levin. N o research support has been paid to Dr. Levin or to Beth Israel Medical Center for dialyzer reprocessing research. Dr. Levin has not received consultant fees or any direct or indirect payment from Fresenius AG or Frese- nius USA, Inc. Dr, Levin owns less than YIO of 1% of the outstanding common stock of Fresenius USA, Inc., the shares of which are publicly traded. None of the authors have ever owned Minntech stock or had options to buy or sell Minntech stock. In reporting these facts, we go far beyond the disclosure that is required in even the most demand- ing research journals. (As noted above, we also go far beyond Minntech’s treatment of its direct finan- cial relationship with various physicians.) We do so because it is essential that our scientific findings be evaluated on their merits-not on the basis of un- founded rumor or personal attacks on the authors. The reality is that we were motivated to carry out and report this research solely by our interest in scientific research and in arriving at the correct sci- ence regarding the relative effectiveness of dflerent end-stage renal disease therapies. Even a strong b i a ~ could not have m&ed the epidemiologic and statistical analysis of over 60,OOO patient years of experience or the results of the study. The conclu- sions we reached from these data reflect our best professional judgment, and our analysis and conclu- sions have been extensively reviewed by profes- sional peers in the renal community as well as pro- fessional and governmental organizations. In presenting these findings in oral presentations and a forthcoming paper, we have been candid and forthright about the limitations of epidemiological studies, including this one. We repeatedly made considerable effort to emphasize that no causal link between use of a germicide and mortality risk could be inferred from these studies. We emphasized from the beginning that the variation in outcomes from unit to unit was large and that there were some dialysis units using all gemkides, including Rena- line, that had low mortaIity compared with the av- erage of units not reusing. In short, however much Minntech may dislike or disagree with our conclusions, we find its public effort to discredit these findings by attacking the authors to be without justification. It is irresponsi- ble and totally unfounded for Minntech to assert in a lawsuit and in letters to journals--as it has-that these researchers knowingly produced and dissem- inated false research. Germicide Efficacy Versus Effectiveness One of the points we have made repeatedly is that our associations cannot distinguish between the ef- fects of the germicide used in reprocessing and the manner in which the germicide is used. The latter might be called the “user factor.” Our research fo- cused on the “effectiveness” of reuse, which in- cludes both the “efficacy” of the product and the manner in which the product is used (user factor) in nonselected U.S. centers. Minntech has frequently made the claim that, if used as directed, RenalinQ is safe. Implicit in this claim is that Minntech is talking about “efficacy,” i n contrast to our focus on “effectiveness,” which includes “efficacy” as well as the “user factor.” Indeed, we have fnquently pointed out that our results may not have been caused by the germicide itself, but instead may be explained by the manner in which it is used. Even if a n t e c h is correct about the efficacy of R&u&n*, the statistical asso- ciations we have reported would still point to sub- stantial public health problems that may be present because of misuse of the product. Clearly the FDA policy response suspected a user problem since it focused on the methods of proper use of R e d i n @ . One of the major reasons for presenting and pub- lishing the results of studies such as ours is to allow the scientific community to examine the evidence and consider what mechanisms might be responsi- ble for the observed association. To bring up an analogy, if use of an efficacious drug were associ- ated with an increase in mortality in a substantial subgroup of patients it would certainly call for in- tense scrutiny. Failure to report such a finding would be considered unethical. It was in this spirit that these results were discussed and reviewed by the authors with the HCFA, the CDC, the FDA, and the renal community. Should such reports be suppressed for fear of lawsuits? In this regard, Dr. ON REPLACING PEER 101 Kjellstrand’s editorial makes a very good point that the current litigation will only slow down the pro- cess of finding the truth in this matter. What Are the Lessons of this Experience for Research? We did not invite or welcome the litigation from Minntech. At the direction of federal sponsors and a scientific advisory committee, we diligently en- gaged in research addressing a significant public health issue and reported the findings accurately and responsibly to federal health agencies and the dialysis community. Minntech’s decision to resort to litigation in which it seeks more than one million dollars in al- leged damages from the investigators has diverted too much energy and money from research and has inserted fear of litigation into the scientific process. The defendants’ legal costs have been very substan- tial over the last year, even before entering the de- position phase. Trial is not likely until late 1994. One can only speculate what the ultimate expense of this litigation will be. We have been fortunate to have support from our institutions, which have not flinched at this challenge to the research process. What would have happened if we had not been so fortunate? What would happen to other researchers not as well supported by their institutions? And more importantly, what does the precedent of this lawsuit mean for the research process? At least one other research group has federal support to examine dialyzer reuse. Try to imagine the climate they face as they prepare to report their findings. Dr. Kjell- strand’s editorial provided a good summary of what this lawsuit means for the research process. There are at least two qualities of the legal system that are very detrimental to the research process. First, resolving legal disputes is costly and ex- tremely time-consuming; second, the legal system is not an efficient machine to find truth in complex scientific matters. The fact that our institutions have agreed to pay for legal fees so far does not make this litigation “free” to society. Just as the cost of medical mal- practice is passed on in higher prices to consumers and taxpayers, the cost of litigation in research will be passed on to others. This country does not need to have a substantial new cost burden in our current health care system. Just when our medical system is focusing on more studies of outcomes research such as our own project for the goal of a more efficient health care system, a new wrench is thrown into the works. Scientific issues will henceforth be threat- ened by the courts! What if errors are made in scientific research? As Dr. Kjellstrand noted, this will sometimes occur, but scientific processes exist to correct such errors. We suspect that this process is robust enough to deal with errors of many types, even those that could arise from conflicts of interest that are present in industry-sponsored research. One process is the manner in which studies are repeated and reproduced as part of scientific in- quiry. We believe that Minntech has the right to the federal data under the same conditions with which we and all researchers have had t o comply. Minntech should be able to confirm or challenge our results. There are established processes for re- searchers who want to gain access to the data, pro- cesses that assure appropriate confidentiality. In- stead of relying on a research proposal, however, Minntech has resorted to much more heavy-handed attacks, which pose different threats to society. Sci- entists differ with each other often. To challenge published research, a scientist typically builds an- other experiment with other data, other methods, a n d o r other theoretical models. Over time, the er- rors of the past are bypassed, refuted, and replaced by more complete and accurate results. Our advice to Minntech before the litigation was to take the high road. This approach might have included making a public statement saying i t thought these six researchers were wrong and that Minntech was going to show them to be wrong. We further advised them that if their investigation found that there is something to these associations and that the problem lies with Minntech products or how they are used, Minntech as a reputable and respected company should have fixed matters. That advice still stands, but we now believe that Minntech should also repair some of the damage it has done to the scientific research process by reim- bursing the Urban Institute, the University of Mich- igan, and Beth Israel Hospital for legal expenses. The current message Minntech has given to the re- search community is that those who report adverse facts about experience with Minntech products may suffer legal expenses from litigation and unfounded accusations in the literature. Failure to reverse these actions and reimburse the expenses already incurred would stand as a signal to those who might naively believe that they could comment on their experience with Renalinm in a free exchange of facts. Our scientific advice to Minntech at the initial presentations was to test whether the reuse proce- dures with Renalina differed between units with high and low standardized mortality rates. We pro- posed that we identify dialysis units using RenalinB with the highest and lowest standardized mortality rates and blind Minntech to their grouping. On-site data collection and analysis had a very high proba- bility of determining whether the “user factors” may be an explanation for the observed differences in mortality. It was our belief that this study could have been completed in early 1993. To our knowl- edge, this advice was not followed and the study was never implemented. The data we used were for 198!3-1990. We hope that if the “user factor” was the cause of the ele- vated mortality that our study might have already led to improvements in practices. It appears that the FDA notice had that intent. 102 Held et at To those readers who have heard so much rumor and innuendo about the authors that they suspect that the authors must have done something to de- serve such litigation we offer the following analogy: “Henry, why are you here?” Ralph Waldo Emer- son is supposed to have asked Thoreau, who was in jail for refusing to pay war taxes. “Waldo, why are you not here?” Thoreau replied. The current litigation from Minntech must not and will not deter us and others from continuing to researcb dialysis-related issues and report scientific findings with potential public health implications. We do invite and welcome scientific questions and challenges. We clearly see a need for continued, quality research in this area to identify the reasons for the observed differences in mortality. Research findings are rarely an endpoint. Our studies provide new findings and answer some questions while rais- ing new questions which need to be addressed in future research for the pursuit of truth. We hope that the medical community wili demonstrate their defense of the scientific process through condem- nation of inappropriate litigation. We hope that Minntech will take tangible action to repair the damage that their litigation has done t o the scientific process and t o show their commitment to preserv- ing scientific inquiry. Note Added in Proof On February 15, 1994, very close to the time of writing of this editorial, Minntech filed a research protocol to obtain the data from the federal govern- ment. I. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. IS. 16. References ANON: Minntefh files new lawsuit. Dial 7ransplant 22232. 1993 Neumann M E Minntcch sues authors of new report on dinlyzer re- use. Neph News Issues 7(5):8, 10; 1993 ANON: Scientists who blow the whistle on accepted medical treat- ments race a new eaemy-They m y become defendants in a lawsutt. Partners in Prevertioa Spring5, 1993 ANON: Minntech fiks lawsuit @nst “Renalin* Paper” authors. Contemp Dial Nephrof I4(6):13, 35; 1993 Held PJ. Wolfe RA, Gaylin DS. Port FK, Levin NW, Turcam MN: And- of the r s J o c i D t i of dialper MX practim and patient Wtcomcs. Am I Kidney Dis (In press) yieUstraod CM: The search for scientifi truth versus eorporatc in- tcruts. Semin Dial 6:2111-283,1993 Depalma J: Law and truth, or all chokes involve compromise. Neph News Issues 7:3&39, 1993 Desai S: Tbc pitfalls of sterilants in the dialysis unit. Neph News Issues 7(11):12. 31, 34-35; 1993 Ward R4: Reaction. Neph News Issues 734-3s. 1993 Millot CW: Re~etiw. Neph N e w s Issues 734. 36; 1993 Tokam JI, Alter MJ, Faveio MS. Moyer LA. Bland LA: National surveilknee of dialysis-associated disensn in t Q United States. ASAIO J 3%%6-97S. 1991 Flahcrty IP, Garcia-Houchins S. Chudy R. Amow PM: An outbreak of OlPmacpPcivt bacteremia traced to contamiaated O-rings in =pro- cessed d i a l y w . Ann Intern Med 1 1 9 1072-IQ78,1993 b l a n G , Reingold AL. Carson LA, Sikox VA. Woodky CL. Hayes PS, Hightower AW. McFarland L. Brown JW 111. Pctencn NJ. Favero MS, Good RC. B ~ o w n CV: infections with Myedwcterium rheloari in patients receiving dialysis and using r e p ~ ~ ~ c l s a f bemodi- alyzen. I Infect Dk 1SZ1013-1019, 1985 LMy PW. &ck-Saguc CM. BIand LA, Agmw SM. Arduino MI. Mmuth AN. Munay RA. Swcnson JM, Jarvis WR: MrcobPrtcrium rhelond infection among patients receiving high-nwr dialysis in a hernodialysis clinic in California. J Iderr DU 161:8S-W. 1990 United States General Accounting Office: Hospitd Sferiionts: Insuf- fk5ent FDA Regulation May Pose a Public Health Risk. GAO-HRD- 93-79. W a s k i t o n DC. 1993 Held PJ. h u t y MV, DiDmoDd LH: SuMval analysis of patients un- d e m i n n dialvsis. JAMA 257:MW. 1987 17. & x i a h f& the Aduanccmm of MniicPl instntnrentptioa: A A M I Recomnendrd Practice. Reuse of Hemodiaiyrers (AAMI ROH- 1986). Arlington, VA, 1993 (Nathan Lcvm was co-choinnan of the 18. Levin NW: D d y z c r reuse: A currently acceptable practice. Semin Dial689-90, 1993 canmittcc that produced *is report) 
work_4gm2sn7danbejeh2ucvzv2cdpe	----	Life is a journey EDITORIAL Open Access Life is a journey Henning Madry Siempre imaginé que el Paraíso sería algún tipo de biblioteca. I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library. Jorge Luis Borges (1899 - 1986) The Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics was launched in late 2013 by the European Society of Sports Traumatology, Knee Surgery & Arthroscopy (ESSKA), serving to bridge the gap between orthopaedic basic sci- ence and clinical relevance. I was provided with the good fortune to envision and serve as the founding Editor-in- Chief of the Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics. Leading the Journal has been an extremely rewarding and memorable phase of my professional career. From early on, the vision of a new Journal was supported and mentored by creative leaders of the ESSKA, among which Lars Engebretsen, João Espregueira-Mendes, Romain Seil, Niek van Dijk, Matteo Denti, David Dejour, Jacques Menetrey and many others. The idea took on a real form on March 5th, 2011 in Salon 3 of the Villa Sarasin [home of the late Emile Édouard Sarasin (1843–1917), a swiss scien- tist] in Le Grand-Saconnex near Geneva in Switzerland at an ESSKA Board Meeting. There, it was decided to proceed with the launch of a new journal that would be the official basic science journal of ESSKA, complementing the more clinical Knee Surgery, Sports Traumatology, Arthroscopy (KSSTA) journal. The Journal of Experimental Orthopae- dics was designed as a unique biomedical journal with a surgical background, aiming to merge the rigor of basic sci- ence with the art of orthopaedic surgery (Madry, 2014). Our 100th article appeared in Pubmed on 4 September 2017, and at the time of this Editorial, nearly 190 articles have been published. Successfully attracting good quality manuscripts, often with the help of active ESSKA com- mittees, significantly promoted the journal’s reputation. The Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics guarantees a rigorous, objective, and timely peer review process. Editorial decisions are solely based on scientific integrity and merit, not profit or scientific fashion. Although an evolution of the journal is inevitable, these fundamental principles shall never change for the Journal of Experi- mental Orthopaedics to retain its stature. In a recent Clarivate analysis, the journal would be placed in the second quartile (Q2) and therefore in the upper half of journals for the category “Orthopaedics - Sci” category in Web of Science. The open access model allowed for a remarkable dissemination: for example a study on deter- mining bone tunnel sizes in anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction has been accessed about 34.500 times since its publication in June 2014 (Crespo et al., 2014). Moreover, the already classical review on the role of aggrecan in normal and osteoarthritic cartilage, written by the late Peter J. Roughley (1947–2018), is with 45 citations since its publication in July 2014 our most cited article ever (Roughley & Mort, 2014). Although the journey began nearly exactly 5 years ago, it seems like only yesterday when our first article was published on 26 June 2014 (Brinkman et al., 2014). The time has now come to hand over the responsibil- ity at the helm, as Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) famously quoted: “Life is a journey, not a destination.” It was not an easy decision for me to make a move to a newly introduced journal, and although I will be taking up a new assignment as Editor-in-Chief of Osteoarthritic and Cartilage Open, I will continue to support the Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics to the best of my ability. Please join me in welcoming Stefano Zaffagnini in his new capacity as Editor, and I am sure that Stefano with his superb clinical and scientific expertise brings excellent credentials that will continue to provide the dedication, enthusiasm, and creativity for the continued stewardship of the journal. At the same time, I would like to express my sincere appreciation to the ESSKA leadership who I thank for giving me the editorial responsibility to establish the Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics. I am very grateful for the support of our excellent Editorial Board and distinguished Board of Trustees, among which scientists serving as presidents of universities or international or- ganizations such as ESSKA, the ORS, and the ICRS, and to other Editors-in-Chief, among which Jón Karlsson © The Author(s). 2019 Open Access This article is distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license, and indicate if changes were made. Correspondence: henning.madry@uks.eu Lehrstuhl für Experimentelle Orthopädie und Arthroseforschung, Saarland University, Kirrberger Strasse, Building 37, 66421 Homburg/Saar, Germany Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics Madry Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics (2019) 6:34 https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-019-0202-8 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1186/s40634-019-0202-8&domain=pdf http://orcid.org/0000-0002-8612-4842 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ mailto:henning.madry@uks.eu and Ejnar Eriksson of KSSTA, Bruce Reider of The American Journal of Sports Medicine, Farshid Guilak of the Journal of Biomechanics, Detlev Ganten of the Jour- nal of Molecular Medicine, and Rocky Tuan of Stem Cell Research & Therapy. I have highly enjoyed working very effectively with our Editorial Office in Luxembourg served by a tireless staff of dedicated professionals, and Gabriele Schröder in her position as Editorial Director at SpringerNature, and I would like to thank them for their constant effort. Finally yet importantly, I thank our authors, reviewers, and readers for ensuring the success of the Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics. I wish you all the best. Sincerely, Henning Madry Received: 31 May 2019 Accepted: 14 June 2019 References Brinkman JM, Hurschler C, Agneskirchner J, Lobenhoffer P, Castelein RM, van Heerwaarden RJ (2014) Biomechanical testing of distal femur osteotomy plate fixation techniques: the role of simulated physiological loading. J Exp Orthop. 1(1):1. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0001-1 Crespo B, Aga C, WilsonKJ PSM, RF LP, Engebretsen L, Wijdicks CA (2014) Measurements of bone tunnel size in anterior cruciate ligament reconstruction: 2D versus 3D computed tomography model. J Exp Orthop 1: 2. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0002-0 Madry H (2014) Translating orthopaedic basic science into clinical relevance. J Exp Orthop. 1(1):5. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0005-x Roughley PJ, Mort JS (2014) The role of aggrecan in normal and osteoarthritic cartilage. J Exp Orthop 1:8. https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0008-7 Publisher’s Note Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Madry Journal of Experimental Orthopaedics (2019) 6:34 Page 2 of 2 https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0001-1 https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0002-0 https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0005-x https://doi.org/10.1186/s40634-014-0008-7 References Publisher’s Note 
work_4cxmoqq5ura5rj7exbjcsuz3ge	----	©2019 Business Ethics Quarterly 29:2 (April 2019). ISSN 1052-150X DOI: 10.1017/beq.2018.26 pp. 241–268 Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business: Toward an Ethics of Personal Growth Joshua S. Nunziato University of Colorado, Boulder Ronald Paul Hill American University ABSTRACT: Stanley Cavell’s moral perfectionism places the task of cultivating richer self-understanding and self-expression at the center of corporate life. We show how his approach reframes business as an opportunity for moral soul-craft, achieved through the articulation of increasingly reflective inner life in organizational culture. Instead of norming constraints on business activity, perfectionism opens new possibilities for conducting commercial exchange as a form of conversation, leading to personal growth. This approach guides executives in designing businesses that foster genius and channel creativity, while giving all stakeholders a meaningful voice within a culture of trust. We first give an account of Cavellian perfectionism. Then, we explain how this underrepresented strand of moral reflection challenges and enriches, but does not supplant, prevailing ethical theories—including other versions of perfectionism. We then demonstrate the salience of Cavellian perfec- tionism to business ethics through examples from marketing, human resources, and executive organizational design and development. KEY WORDS: culture, development, exchange, inner life, values, Stanley Cavell I never change, I simply become more myself. Joyce Carol Oates, Solstice1 Many people are seeking greater latitude for creativity, ingenuity, self-expression, and even spirituality at work today. But business ethics currently lacks a thick account of what role such dimensions of life should have in business. Our offer- ing here is a first step toward giving such an account, and it follows the advice of Hsieh (2017, 293) who advocates a movement back to fundamentals that includes returning to “basic principles of ordinary morality … for specifying the responsi- bilities of business managers.” He goes on to describe this perspective as to do no harm, a laudable dictate that may have its basis in avoiding what may be wrong versus striving for what is good. This self-described “minimalist” approach should be widely acceptable and avoid controversies associated with more “specialized” ethical theories. Yet, the best paths forward for business ethics scholarship should https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly242 also include “alternative theoretical paradigms” that can be more “radical” and “upend conventional theoretical wisdom” (Arnold 2016, x). In what follows, we present a novel ethical perspective described as Cavellian perfectionism. It offers a new vantage point on forming business cultures and setting organizational strategies that invite the articulation of inner life through commer- cial exchanges. The article has four main parts. In the first, we introduce Cavellian perfectionism and explain why it focuses on the expression of inner life through exchange. In the second, we juxtapose Cavell’s thinking with other approaches to perfectionism—and other theories of the moral life. In the third, we explore why Cavell’s vision of ethical development matters for organizational culture. In the final section, we consider how Cavellian perfectionism would reorient management thinking and practice, especially in marketing, human resources, and executive organizational design and development. CAVELLIAN PERFECTIONISM: AN INTRODUCTION We take our lead from the Harvard philosopher Stanley Cavell (1990), who takes his orientation from multiple sources—especially Emerson, Thoreau, Wittgenstein, and Heidegger (Cavell 1990, 2; 2004, 12-3).2 All of these thinkers grapple with the question of how personal convictions should express themselves collectively as culture—an underrepresented dimension of normative reflection generally, and business ethics specifically. Tellingly, the thinkers that most influenced Cavell are not those typically cited as canonical exponents of perfectionism: e.g., Aristotle, Aquinas, Spinoza, Hegel, Marx, and Nietzsche (Bradford 2017, 344; Hurka 1993, 3). In contrast with Cavell’s approach, neo-Aristotelian perfectionism is a theory that accentuates the importance of rationality, character, and habit in achieving the consummate development of human nature, which this theory treats as the goal of ethical life. One version of neo-Aristotelian perfectionism is virtue ethics, a normative theory that has been widely discussed in the business ethics literature (Audi 2012; Jackson 2012; Koehn 1998; McCracken and Shaw 1995; Moore 2005a, 2005b, 2008; Solomon 1992, 1993, 2003; Weaver 2006). However, such discussions focus on something external: namely, excellent human practice in business. What is inside of agents matters morally only to the extent that it shapes their proclivity to act well outwardly by expressing some particular dimension of their character. (Virtue ethicists see the shaping of inner life as the social formation of the potential for human excellence through habitual action and reflection.) On the other hand, Cavellian perfectionism is an ethics of interiority. We define it as a domain of moral reflection that cultivates an increasingly articulate and circumspect manifes- tation of one’s inner life through exchange with others who are correlatively engaged in the same process of self-transformation.3 Inner life here is more than the reflective potential for specific kinds of action, revealing particular dimensions of who one is. It is what gets cultivated through actions geared toward seeking a good that has not been codified into discrete modes of excellence (i.e., virtues). Thus, all of the insights that follow are guided by one idea: business is an opportunity for moral soulcraft, achieved through the articulation of inner life in organizational culture. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 243 Although Cavellian perfectionism eschews a priori criteria for moral action, it embraces the responsibility of personal cultivation and places that task at the center of the moral life.4 Cultures can be—and often are—generated accidentally. This is true both inside and outside of business. And what cultures say about those who represent them is often given scant attention. Perfectionism as we understand it cultivates people and organizations by attending intensely to what they say about themselves through what they do—and then acknowledging what is said with a fidelity that invites further growth. In the final section of this article, we draw atten- tion to specific organizational forms that this discipline of cultivation might take. Cavellian perfectionism courts a specific style of moral imagination. Our approach resonates, then, in certain respects, with the work on moral imagination by Werhane (1998, 1999, 2002, 2006) in that it also bridges the (apparent) gap between extant theories in business ethics and their lived expression, attuning the imagination to new possibilities. However, for Cavell, imagination is not a moral good in and of itself. Instead, its value is to enable acknowledgment of one’s standing in relation- ship to others—and theirs in relationship to oneself. In the second section of this article, we provide a literature review contrasting Cavellian perfectionism to other versions of perfectionism, which tend to be more aligned with a business ethics of personal virtue and organizational flourishing. In that section, we also situate Cavellian perfectionism vis-a-vis prevailing normative theories. But, before getting there, it is important to have a clearer grasp of what Cavell means by perfectionism. His perfectionism begins with the self and focuses on radical insight. It is about seeing ourselves as we truly are, not as we sometimes wish or imagine or hope or dread that we might be (Thoreau 2006)— and adjusting our work and our relation- ships accordingly. Thus, Cavell remarks: Any theory must, I suppose, regard the moral creature as one that demands and recog- nizes the intelligibility of others to himself or herself, and of himself or herself to others; so moral conduct can be said to be based on reason, and philosophers will sometimes gloss this as the idea that moral conduct is subject to questions whose answers take the form of giving reasons. Moral Perfectionism’s contribution to thinking about the moral necessity of making oneself intelligible (one’s actions, one’s sufferings, one’s position) is, I think it can be said, its emphasis before all on becoming intelligible to oneself (Cavell 1990, xxxi).5 At first glance, the priority of self-knowledge here can seem narcissistic. Indeed, it may raise the question about whether this approach offers an ethics at all—or whether it is simply an antinomian apologia for the unbridled life of the mind.6 However, such appearances are deceptive. Cavellian Perfectionism is not an individualistic ethics—either in its orientation or its ultimate goals. Rather, the self-understanding offered by this ethics is too multidimensional—too implicated, from the beginning, in the lives of other selves and their efforts at self-expression—to lend support to intellectual navel gazing. This is why Cavell defines perfectionism as “something like a dimension or tradition of the moral life that spans the course of Western thought and concerns what used to be called the state of one’s soul, a dimension that places tremendous burdens on personal relationships and on the possibility or necessity https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly244 of the transforming of oneself and of one’s society” (1990, 2). When people dare to speak of the soul at all today, they typically mean a zone of ineffable privacy, inaccessible to society, business, or politics. But, when Cavell speaks of the state of one’s soul, he means something that brings humans into society and requires them to take responsibility for the specific shape of the larger community in which they find themselves (2004). Organizational cultivation in business expresses a particular kind of society for which, and to which, the inner life of the human being is responsible. And that specific society can help make our lives—personally and collectively—more articulate.7 What Cavell means when he insists that perfectionism begins with the self and its efforts at understanding and expression is that perfectionism teaches us to know ourselves in and through a deeper appreciation of the ways we become intelligi- ble through one another. Thus, in a crucial passage for understanding his ethics, Cavell remarks: “What we forgot, when we deified reason, was not that reason is incompatible with feeling, but that knowledge requires acknowledgment” (Cavell 2015, 319). Understanding who we are is not simply a matter of knowing ourselves. It is a matter of acknowledging who we are in relationship to those who teach us to know ourselves. For Cavell, we only begin to reveal ourselves as we truly are when we recognize the ways in which our lives speak for and with each other. We stand for one another. We represent each other: “To speak for oneself politically is to speak for the others with whom you consent to association, and it is to consent to be spoken for by them—not as a parent speaks for you, i.e., instead of you, but as someone in mutuality speaks for you, i.e., speaks your mind” (Cavell 1999, 27). And by “speak[ing]...politically,” Cavell means something much more expansive than what we normally mean by ‘talking politics.’ For him, speaking politically is not just an instance of speaking one’s mind. It is inseparable from expressing oneself, since we find our very selves—from the beginning—always in conversation with others. Politics, in this broader sense, is about more than the shape of the nation- state or its ends. Rather, it is simply about negotiating our place in our society. So, the promise of communal speech which articulates the inner life of each self who belongs to a given organization—a society writ small—is central to perfectionism. Thus, Cavell adds: We do not know in advance what the content of our mutual acceptance is, how far we may be in agreement. I do not know in advance how deep my agreement with myself is, how far responsibility for the language may run. But if I am to have my own voice in it, I must be speaking for others and allow others to speak for me. The alternative to speaking for myself representatively (for someone else’s consent) is not: speaking for myself privately. The alternative is having nothing to say, being voiceless, not even mute (Cavell 1999, 28). The very condition for being able to articulate one’s inner life intelligently and intel- ligibly is exchange with others. Cavell often calls this conversation.8 But, especially in the context of business ethics, it is helpful to remember that conversation is more than just oral or written word-transmission. The term exchange reminds us that buy- ing, selling, working, creating, and managing can all be conversational: actions that https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 245 open and maintain a conversation with others about who we are and what we care about. Such exchange borrows and lends the means that it uses freely and socially. When acknowledged, the conversations of business exchange lead to far-reaching ethical responsibilities. But the scope and content of these responsibilities may not be established in advance of the actual venture of exchange, which aims to deepen our mutual intelligibility and power of expression. It is no accident that privacy and Wittgenstein’s puzzles about private language haunt the background of the long quote from Cavell just cited. Cavell reads Wittgenstein as affording the insight (which can be acknowledged or refused) that the articulation of our intelligibility is irreducibly social because it happens through language and because language is irreducibly social (see 1999, part 4). Thus, Cavell comments: “In Emerson, as in Wittgenstein’s Investigations, I encounter the social in my every utterance and in each silence” (2004, 4). When this insight gets denied it leads to skepticism. We turn in on ourselves in solipsistic narcissism. Skepticism is an ethical—not just an epistemological—posture. When the collective ownership of my means of expression (and everyone else’s) gets acknowledged, that recogni- tion allows us to express and see ourselves through the voices and the insights of others. (And conversely.) When we speak another’s mind, we reveal the inner life of that person. And that life can never be responsibly assimilated to one’s own. Therefore, the ways in which we speak for one another will always be fraught with irreducible mystery. To acknowledge this mystery, Cavell sometimes has recourse to the language of the soul: “Take the phrase ‘have a soul’ as a mythological way of saying that I am spirit. If the body individuates flesh and spirit, singles me out, what does the soul do? It binds me to others” (1999, 411). When we voice our inner lives on behalf of one another, we give expression to something that links us together. But this very linkage also establishes a distance. I can only speak another’s mind if I acknowledge that I cannot arrogate her inner life to mine. So, paradoxically, our souls have a social obligation to bear witness to each other’s solitude. (Call this the responsibility of making another’s inner life more intelligible.) We come to know and express our inner selves through others—and not otherwise. As Cavell observes: “Being human is aspiring to being human. Since it is not aspiring to being the only human, it is an aspiration on behalf of others as well. Then we might say that being human is aspiring to being seen as human” (1999, 399). All the ethical impetus of Cavellian perfectionism stems from this observation. We come to know ourselves only by acknowledging others. To become fully human requires that we confer the recognition of humanity upon others—even as we seek it for ourselves. Conversely, failing to recognize other humans as sharing one’s aspiration for recognition as human is—itself—a betrayal of our humanity. So shaping business cultures to afford recognition is not a distraction from perfectionism’s task of knowing and expressing the self. It is the heart of that task. To summarize: perfectionism is focused on the social self-expression of the inte- rior life. Interiority is that dimension of human experience some philosophers have called “the state of one’s soul” (Cavell 1990, 2). In distinction from other facets of experience, the interior life is manifested by one who has it and recognized https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly246 (or ignored or denied or overlooked) by those to whom it is expressed. Interior life always invites conversation. Sometimes it requires it. The body—in its biological and social forms (e.g., corporations)—is the organ for communicating inner life. The interior life communicated through the body includes (but is not exhausted by) one’s desires, hopes, dreams, affects, thoughts, illusions, convictions, expectations, prayers, intentions, prejudices, wishes, hesitations, allegiances, aversions, loves, and values. The interior life links humans together while also leaving each of them alone: committed to communicating something socially that is never simply available to others—or to oneself—as a fact for observation.9 Cavellian perfectionism—like the approaches taken to moral imagination more generally by other scholars (see Caldwell and Moberg 2007; Moberg and Seabright 2000)—complements ethical frameworks like deontology or consequentialism but does not present a competing alternative. The moral imagination instilled by per- fectionism is not a conceptual framework that aspires to justify particular decisions while ruling out others on the basis of a priori criteria (2004, 2). Instead, it is a hermeneutical discipline. It gives us richer ways of interpreting–from the messy middle of human life–the criteria for evaluating what we say through what we do (Cavell 1999, 34). And that insight offers grounded yet sophisticated guidance to contemporary business people who are seeking new ways of forming organizational cultures that give better voice to the inner lives of those who comprise them. VARIETIES OF PERFECTIONISM AND OTHER APPROACHES TO THE MORAL LIFE Others have explored constructs labeled perfectionism, but often with very different descriptions and purposes. In the section that follows, we briefly contrast Cavellian ethics with four contemporary versions of perfectionism, then situate his thinking relative to other major ethical theories. For theoretical ethicists, the term perfec- tionism typically fits most comfortably within the ambit of a eudaimonistic virtue ethics: a style of moral reasoning focused on forming persons for living the good life, instead of on action and desirable outcomes (consequentialism) or duty and right will (deontology). Aristotle is typically credited with originating virtue ethics (Aristotle 2014). Thomas Aquinas revived it during the thirteenth century as part of the western rediscovery of the Aristotelian corpus (Aquinas 1947). And it has benefited from a resurgent interest in contemporary scholarship (e.g., MacIntyre 2007; Foot 2010; Bloomfield 2014). The most careful and comprehensive study of perfectionism in recent decades defends a neo-Aristotelian version of the theory, which echoes central tenets of virtue ethics (Hurka 1993). According to Hurka, all versions of perfectionism “share the foundational idea that what is good, ultimately, is the development of human nature” (1993, 3; cf. Kraut 2007, Den Uyl and Rasmussen 2016). Though this is a controver- sial claim, it highlights two key ideas that perfectionism often (if not always) shares with virtue ethics: first, humans have a nature; and, second, this nature is one we have a responsibility to nurture. Beyond this, Hurka’s distinctive perfectionism also fol- lows Aristotle into specifics, where he finds rationality at the center of human nature. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 247 Even where Hurka diverges most markedly from virtue ethics (finding Aristotle’s account of virtue indefensibly moralistic [1993, 19-20]), he recovers moral respon- sibility through an “agent-neutral” obligation to maximize the opportunities for every member of the human community to act as reflectively as possible: “Our ultimate moral goal … is the greatest development of human nature by all humans everywhere” (1993, 55; cf., 62-3). Arguably, this perspective simply radicalizes the traditional Aristotelian virtue of justice (conditioned by magnanimity and the courage to let go of any inclination to privilege one’s own development over others’), and then identifies these as the source of ethical responsibility toward one’s neighbors. Since for Aristotle, justice implicitly contains all the other virtues insofar as they guide our conduct toward others (2014, 1129), the effect of Hurka’s proposal (if not its rationale) remains close to Aristotelian virtue ethics. Overall, the ideal of seeking to perfect human nature through the development of rationality lends a conceptual focus and clarity to Hurka’s framework that most approaches to virtue ethics tend to eschew in favor of close attention to the contingen- cies of place, habit, and specific moral communities. Nevertheless, given its pervasive indebtedness to Aristotle, Hurka’s account comports with virtue ethics on many of the points that matter most. By way of contrast, Cavell will draw on Emerson and others to give a markedly different perfectionism: one much less at home with the imagination and idiom of virtue ethics. The point of perfectionism as Cavell sees it is not the perfection of our nature (see Norris 2017, 215). (That is the thinking of Aristotle, Aquinas, and Hurka, but not really Thoreau, Emerson, or Wittgenstein.) Nor is Cavellian perfectionism about balancing different possibilities of human attainment against one another to achieve a more holistic, well-rounded version of the self (Kauppinen 2009). Instead, it is about transcending whatever we might consider our ’nature’ in the direction of increasingly articulate, self-transcendent exchange—or conversation—that always leaves our ’nature’ open and undefined at both its heights and depths. Indeed, Cavell will provocatively define the human as “the unnatural animal” (2010, 547). Elsewhere, writing about Thoreau, Cavell comments: “Our nature is to be overcome…. It is through nature that nature is to be overcome” (1992, 43-4). He thereby focuses not on the optimization of some quality or characteristic of a given human nature, but rather on the increasingly lucid realization of indefinite, fragmentary human lives that are always in the process of achieving better self-expression through their exchanges. In The Perfectionist Turn: From Metanorms to Metaethics (2016), Douglas J. Den Uyl and Douglas B. Rasmussen present a sophisticated version of perfectionism as a eudaimonistic virtue theory in tandem with a liberal politics. Den Uyl and Rasmussen frame their ethics by distinguishing between a “template of respect” (e.g., deontology and consequentialism) and a “template of responsibility” (2016, 2-10). Their neo- Aristotelian perfectionism is an example of the latter. They see “mak[ing] a life for oneself” as its central goal (Den Uyl and Rasmussen 2016, 7). Unlike Hurka (but like Aristotle), they emphasize the role of virtue in forming each human person—in her specific singularity—for the responsibility of practical wisdom: something they equate with flourishing (2016, 33, 38-40, 54-61). At first glance, Cavell’s perfectionism seems consonant with Den Uyl and Rasmussen’s ethic of responsibility. However, Cavell’s https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly248 approach does not fit neatly into either of their (supposedly) “fundamental, alternative frameworks” (2016, 2). According to Den Uyl and Rasmussen, if one locates “the fundamental wellspring for ethical action and judgment” in the other (including oneself regarded as other), one endorses an ethic of respect. If one finds this “well- spring” in the self, one endorses an ethic of responsibility (2016, 2-8). For Cavell, our moral responsibility for self-development is the challenge of respecting others by acknowledging their potentially unlimited capability to reveal one’s true self to oneself. For Cavell, if there is any such thing as a “fundamental wellspring” of the moral life it is simply the give and take of human conversation: an exchange that precedes us and forms us by inviting us to contribute something singular ourselves. Richard Kraut gives a third version of neo-Aristotelian perfectionism (which, for mostly rhetorical reasons, he prefers to call “developmentalism”).10 Kraut’s theory (in contrast with Hurka’s) is focused less on rationality and more on holistic well being as a criterion for human development. Nevertheless, like Hurka and Den Uyl and Rasmussen, Kraut acknowledges his theory’s considerable conceptual indebt- edness to Aristotelian eudaimonism (2007, 137-8 nt. 8). He thus represents the perfectionist dimension of a larger wave of scholarly interest in ways of achieving holistic well being. For example, Martin Seligman’s landmark Flourish (2012), though primarily a contribution to the field of positive psychology, has had resonance far beyond that discipline and into organizational ethics (Bright, Winn, and Kanov 2014). It has inspired work devoted to supporting positive emotions, engagement, and relationships that lead to greater life satisfaction and achievement (Cameron 2011; Sekerka, Comer, and Godwin 2014). As with our interpretation of Cavell’s perfectionism, a business ethics of flour- ishing seeks to ensure that work and its environment are conducive to personal development and advancement (Vogt 2005). To this end, the workplace must take into consideration the whole individual and how that person is shaped by the orga- nization and its actors over time (Guillen, Ferrero, and Hoffman 2015). Because human flourishing has multiple objectives, these naturally resonate with functions and goals of businesses: for example (and perhaps most importantly) increased productivity. Another possibility for synergy between personal and organizational development is a focus on growing capabilities as described by Amartya Sen, manifested as skill building that serves the dual purposes of advancing personhood through spiritual development (see Guillen, Ferrero, and Hoffman 2015; Arjoon, Turriago-Hoyos, and Thoene 2018). Yet another is to seek flourishing through firm loyalty (Mele 2001; Elegido 2013). While important and worthy objectives, our perfectionism is wary of the risk of instrumentalizing interiority by turning it into a means of achieving extrinsic orga- nizational goals—or even, simply, external professional goals for the employee— which do not arise from the cultivation of the inner life for and by the members of the organization. Flourishing may follow from the pursuit of cultivation, and cultivation may reshape our expectations about the form that flourishing will take. But for a Cavellian approach—as also for other forms of perfectionism (Wall 2017; Hurka 1993)— flourishing is not the aim of the moral life.11 Sometimes, the ‘perfect’ development of a person or an organization looks like learning how to decline https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 249 or die well: that is, with a grace that manifests one’s true self even in the process of eclipse (Cavell 2010, 540-8). The good life is not simply its flowering, as Kraut and others have supposed.12 Cultivation, as Thoreau knew well, is not merely an occupation for springtime and summer. Fall and winter, too, have their own devel- opment and perfection (cf. Walls 2017, 492-8). A fourth version of perfectionism is provided by Yeoman (2014), who examines a “liberal perfectionist framework” to justify a political imperative that facilitates more meaningful work for employees (also see Seglow and Yeoman 2010 for a different perspective on the same argument).13 According to Yeoman, this imperative has remained heretofore unacknowledged because it has seemed to arise only indirectly as a contingent desire of the labor marketplace, not directly as a human need that politics must serve in order to foster the conditions of democratic society. To that end, she frames meaningfulness as something like a workers’ right, which confers a correlative duty upon the state to maintain that right. Yeoman claims that what the state has an obligation to empower is personal transformation in the workplace—the kind of change supported by a perfectionist ethic. The goal of such an approach— the transformation of workplace cultures to make them more conducive to personal self-articulation—is congruent with that of our own. However, the ethical imperative taken to motivate that change differs from the one we offer here. Where Yeoman aims to justify political action ethically in order to change business culture from ‘above,’ we challenge those within business organizations to recognize a heretofore unacknowledged dimension of their responsibility toward themselves and those around them—and then to foster change accordingly from within. Perhaps precisely because of its asymmetrical relationship to other traditions, the significance of perfectionism has been underappreciated in ethical discourse—including applied ethics. Perfectionism is a dimension of ethical thinking that challenges pre- vailing paradigms (e.g., Kantian, Rawlsian, consequentialist, eudaimonistic)—but not by seeking to supplant them. Perfectionism offers something different: guidance for the moral formation of people and organizations. It does not give a priori criteria for resolving moral quandaries correctly.14 Nor does it justify the goodness of par- ticular actions by deploying an a posteriori evaluative rubric. It affords relief from the relentless privilege often accorded to judgment in ethics. As presently framed, many ethical theories—including those most influential within business ethics—tend to include a focus on “restraining the bad” (Cavell 1990, 18). Thus, they emphasize rules, obligations, limitations, responsibilities, criteria for judgment, and case studies of bad behavior. Perfectionism, in contrast, focuses on “releasing the good” (Cavell 1990, 18). Thus, it tends to emphasize opportunity, receptivity, creativity, inspiration, self-understanding, and case studies of transformative acknowledgment. While it is true that consequentialism shares with perfectionism a commitment to realizing what is good, consequentialism focuses on engineering the good rather than releasing it. Where consequentialism starts with a public criterion of what is good for the purpose of prescribing decisions and designing systems to maximally satisfy that standard, perfectionism makes space for discov- ering and expressing what is good through a conversation between people’s public and private concerns. Thus, perfectionism leads to an ethical responsibility—but https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly250 not one that provides a decision matrix. It is a prior, more basic commitment. Thus, Cavell refers to his perfectionism as “a register of the moral life that precedes, or intervenes in, the specification of moral theories which define the particular bases of moral judgments of particular acts or projects or characters as right or wrong, good or bad” (2004, 2). Perfectionism cultivates an ethos instead of legislating an effort. The point at which perfectionism challenges other ethical theories is not by undermining their claims to accuracy or illumination. Instead, it questions their claims (whether tacit or explicit) to comprehensiveness.15 All the major strands of ethical theory tend to overlook the moral significance of interior life seeking greater intelligibility through social exchanges with others. Therefore, they have also failed to offer a thick account of the place of the inner life in business. Our recovery of perfectionism seeks to address this lacuna. Although it falls well beyond the scope of this article to identify all the blind spots in conventional ethical theories that stem from neglecting the ethical relevance of intelligible self-development, in what follows we give one example germane to business ethics and then consider how Cavellian perfectionism approaches that example differently than four different mainstream ethical theories would. A manager thinking in consequentialist terms about the management decision of when to initiate a new product line might judge that this action would be ill-advised presently because of the pain it could cause other human beings (say, personnel within a division of the company whose weekly work hours would be doubled from 45 to 90 by the new initiative)—relative to other courses of action that would be nearly as effective, while causing significantly less distress (say, waiting six months to hire enough new personnel to launch the new product without significantly increasing the burden on existing employees). However, a manager cultivating a perfectionist mindset would also be likely to consider dimensions of the situation overlooked by consequentialists.16 For example, what does the specific suffering (and its mitigation) communicate about the particular people who are suffering? And how do those possibilities condition the sufferer’s relationship to the decision maker and the community they share, with its specific norms, values, and character? Is the suffering implicit in this project likely to result in the self-development of people involved—and will it be recognized by them as such—irrespective of the success of the product launch? Or is the value of the project wholly predicated on the prospect of a successful outcome—with the suffering of those who achieve it simply to be ‘offset’ by the expected extrinsic gains for themselves or others in the end? In some cases, a more painful course of action—one that increases suffering for those who would execute it without offsetting gains elsewhere—might not be the unethical one. In other cases, it might be. Much depends for the perfectionist manager on how the suffering is interpreted and what it achieves for the cultivation of people involved: what the suffering means in the nexus of relationships that make up the company’s culture. Thus, more is necessary for a moral timbre of life than data about pain or happiness correlated to a variable range of possible actions and predicted outcomes. The perfectionist would point out that a consequentialist anal- ysis of this situation is useful—but incomplete. Missing is an acknowledgement of the people who suffer and the particular texture of the relationships they have with https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 251 one another and with management. Do I treat someone as a helpless victim? Or a dispensable employee? Or a courageous colleague? Or a stubborn, but essential, member of my organization? Each of these responses will alter the moral quality of my response to the suffering involved in their work—and the potential happiness to be achieved by it. For the consequentialist, inner life is finally irrelevant for allocating quantitative goods whose maximally efficient distribution is the goal of ethics. But, for the perfectionist, any judgment about an action’s economic utility must also consider its contribution to the mental, emotional, and spiritual self-understanding of those related by it. Similar considerations would apply to a manager following a Kantian ethic. Such an executive, faced with the decision outlined above, might consider whether initiating the new product line would be consistent with the ethical goal of treating all people as ends, and not just as means (Kant 1999, 4:428-9). But a perfectionist might add that it is possible to respect one’s staff while still failing to fully acknowledge what others have to teach us about ourselves. And that might be a moral failure. Cavell suggests: “Emerson’s most explicit reversal of Kant lies in his picturing the intellectual hemisphere of knowledge as passive or receptive and the intuitive or instinctual hemisphere as active or spontaneous” (1981, 129). If even our self-knowledge is received, it might be possible to respect another person as an end without acknowledging that one is getting a clearer understanding of who one is from that person—and offering something similar in exchange. Do my decisions as a manager help my employees understand who they are more fully? Do they put me in a position to learn more about who I am as a leader from those I lead? Will the effort of initiating the new product line facilitate a deeper understanding of myself through my employees—and conversely? Such questions are instructed by a Kantian morality of respect—but they also move beyond it. Yet again, consider the situation from the perspective of a manager who thinks like a virtue ethicist. Such a person might consider whether existing personnel would be prepared to meet the new challenge by practicing human excellence in ways that habitually instill a tendency to act well in the future when confronted with analogous situations—while also cultivating a spirit of friendship and camaraderie that promotes such habituation. More specifically, would launching the new product be likely to develop traits like courage and fortitude through collective ‘resistance training’ in order to build new ‘moral fiber’? (Aristotle 2014) Or would it instead represent a crushing burden, more likely to cause burn-out, frustration, resignation, or even despair among employees because the situation affords no practicable way forward that allows them to develop their character through habitual effort directed toward a happy medium between vicious extremes? Likewise, the manager might consider what a prudent, just person in her position would be likely to ask of employees in a similar situation—and which decision would be most likely to cause her to grow into the capabilities of such a person (see Beabout 2012). A manager shaped by Cavellian perfectionism, on the other hand, would attend to different questions. She might ask: will this new project give my people the chance to become more reflective about their standing with others by challenging them to organize and collaborate with imagination and creativity? Will they be helping our customers to do the same? https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly252 Or will the new demands simply force employees to entrench themselves deeper in unreflective habits of work—since there are no feasible alternatives for achieving newly-ambitious goals? For the perfectionist, what is inside matters: specifically, what is revealed about one’s own interiority and that of others through (say) start- ing a new product line. For the virtue ethicist, inner life simply matters because it represents the potential (or character or tendency or trait) to act well by producing future actions that are better than others. But for the Cavellian perfectionist, inner life is more than a set of different potentials (or virtues) that can express a facet of the human person. Rather, inner life is the potential for expression: the condition for expressing who any of us is, in part or whole. It is the possibility of articulating oneself to others while keeping what one expresses to oneself as oneself. It is this condition—the possibility of holding a conversation, through business exchanges, as an articulate, intelligible self—that perfectionism fosters. Finally, take the same example from a Rawlsian perspective. Imagine that the new product line is designed to address the needs of a growing, but previously under- served, marginal consumer group. A Rawlsian manager might consider whether the extra stress on staff would be fair if the new line is enabling the business to contribute to a more just distribution in society: one whose inequalities minimally disadvantage those who are least well off, in keeping with the norms that would be considered most equitable from behind the veil of ignorance (Rawls 1999, 11-3). Here, too, a perfectionist account would introduce further considerations. From a Rawlsian perspective, it is possible to achieve—and to judge oneself to have achieved—a “rational plan” for one’s life that places no further ethical demands upon one’s capacity for growth (1999, 370). But Cavell takes issue with “Rawls’s claim that a rational plan of life is one that can be lived ‘above reproach.’” Cavell comments: “It is this claim, above all I think, that my understanding of Emersonian Perfectionism contests” (1990, xxiv). Instead, Cavell suggests, remaining endlessly open to new ways of becoming a more just society—and acknowledging one’s potentially unlimited implication in a somewhat unjust society—is a discipline of interiority essential for living justly (Cavell 1990, xxii-xxxviii). Thus, whatever determination the manager makes about the new product line, it ought not to support a posture of collective self-congratulation or complacency—as if the manager and her organization has done their part and can now focus on other things. The journey toward justice is exactly as open-ended as the process of growing in personal and corporate self-expression and self-understanding. Perfectionism profiles a specific path for giving voice to the human spirit. It envisions human beings as always underway to a life under constant reconsideration. Insofar as established theories offer illumination along that path, perfectionism embraces their insights. However, to the extent that such theories obstruct the self’s fruitful acknowledgment of its provisionality—and the provisionality of its self-understanding—perfectionism maintains a standing challenge to reconsider one’s established habits of ethical thought. And it does so by drawing attention to the claims made on and by the inner life as that life is manifested through relationships with other human beings.17 Therefore, perfectionism reserves a special place for friendship on the journey of human growth, precisely because of the inner transformation that friendship fosters.18 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 253 There is a difference between manifesting the good of self-development and accounting for it in terms of something else. Cavell is focused on the former, not the latter. And he sees manifestation as a function of cultivation through friendship. In this respect, he diverges from a thinker like Gwen Bradford (2017), who seeks a rational foundation for perfectionism’s good (and calls this “the deep question”) but remains dissatisfied with all prospective candidates. Perfectionism is not motivated by the perplexity of a conventional moral dilemma: a situation in which multiple alternatives are presented and an agent must decide which one represents the “right” or “best” option. Instead, the problem that moti- vates perfectionism is the experience of being existentially dislocated (Cavell 1990, 2004). This sense of disorientation and displacement is evident in the contempo- rary difficulty that managers, scholars, and employees have in articulating fruitful ways for interiority to be manifested in business. Often, people do not know why business—what they spend most of their time doing—matters for the most intimate dimension of themselves. Many people rationalize this disconnection by observing that they must work to survive and that they must survive to nourish the specific kind of life they desire for themselves. But such an account avoids the question by refusing to articulate how making a living expresses the life we desire to live—or fails to do so.19 Importantly, perfectionism clarifies the place of the interior life in business. And, although this clarity is much needed, prevailing approaches to business ethics have failed to offer it. THE ORGANIZATIONAL IMPORTANCE OF INTERIORITY Stanley Cavell (1990) takes Ralph Waldo Emerson as a canonical exponent of perfectionism. This Emersonian ethics starts in the intimate depths of the human interior—beginning with an attitude that Emerson calls “self-reliance” (Emerson 1960, 147–49). But it ends in the ways we design our social spaces and configure our business relationships (Cavell 1990). Thoreau calls this “get[ting] our living together” (Thoreau 2006, 76). Accordingly, having supportive leaders who seek deeper self-understanding and personal transformation through their work is a key tenet of this business ethics. This support will often take the shape of education, coaching, and consulting that empowers leaders to express their highest values, their deepest aspirations, and their biggest dreams through the organizational design and culture they create. Although the specific values, aspirations, and dreams of each person are unique—and will be uniquely expressed in any given organization—the social mandate of perfectionism is to foster corporate cultures that encourage everyone in the organization to undertake their own journey of deeper self-understanding and personal transformation through their work. The unique responsibility of executives involves expressing their own values, aspirations, and dreams by offering a business ecosystem in which other stakeholders can fully manifest theirs. For perfectionism, the biggest obstacle to “releasing the good” is not circum- stances, other people, or the law. Rather, it is the self. The self gets in the way by failing to understand itself and by refusing to remain open to the possibility of its—and society’s—transformation. One name for this obstruction is “despair” https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly254 (Cavell 1990, 18). Thoreau called it “quiet desperation,” and Emerson called it “melancholy” (Thoreau 2006, 7; Emerson 1960, 261). It is manifested through thoughtless conformity, ignorance, dispiritedness, and unoriginality. Perfectionism responds to such despair by providing a compelling alternative. Cavell remarks: “Emersonian Perfectionism can be taken as the paradoxical task of secularizing the question of the profit in gaining the whole world and losing one’s soul” (Cavell 1990, 26; cf., 18). By challenging people to face up to this question, perfectionism responds to the calculus of despair. The great business crises of our time have more to do than is often recognized with a failure of perfectionist aspirations toward self-development in the context of workplaces that foster too much conformity, narrow thinking, “playing it safe,” and the investment of the self’s purposes in predefined social roles and expectations. The problem is often not that people do not know what the right thing is. The problem is that they are in a corporate culture that makes resistance to bad decisions seem futile or irrelevant. (Many cases could be adduced, but the scandal at Wells Fargo involving ‘forced’ new accounts is just one recent example.) A symptom of this underlying malaise is the temptation among some business workers to treat compliance as a sufficient criterion for ethical conduct. Such an attitude is reflected in the mentality that something’s legality is an adequate proxy for its permissibility. But instead of focusing on compliance, perfectionist leaders will promote workplaces that reward a pluralistic spiritual originality by granting people safe space to distinctively understand and express their deepest concerns. They will not create organizations that privilege survival over meaning-making. Sometimes, the interior significance of our lives—individually and collectively—is more important than the fact that they continue. Perfectionist leaders will recognize this perspective and promote corporate cultures that recognize it as well.20 Perfectionism takes the shape of a quest or journey with a clear direction but no endpoint (Cavell 2004, 3). Cavell remarks: “Emersonian Perfectionism does not imply perfectibility—nothing in Emerson is more constant than his scorn of the idea that any given state of what he calls the self is the last” (Cavell 1990, 3). The challenge of perfectionism is to be always moving from what Cavell (following Emerson) refers to as one’s “attained self” to one’s “unattained but attainable self” (Cavell 1990, 12). It is not as if the “attained self” is who one really is and the “unattained but attainable self” is who one might eventually become. Rather, both are aspects of the self, which is always in transition between different pos- sible versions. Once you have attained a new, richer self (and, with it, a deeper self-understanding) you will be able to recognize yet another “unattained but attainable self.” Thus, there is no finish line to spiritual growth, but the quest itself is the process of perfection.21 Business leaders can undertake that quest by making organizations that socially express a readiness to bring into the world most clearly and fruitfully what its members have at heart to create. (Such organizations are precisely what their founders had at heart to create.) The result are companies—as well as workers—that are constantly in the process of transit from their “attained” selves to “unattained but attainable” possibilities. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 255 No one else can tell someone how to attain her “unattained but attainable self.” (If someone else could, it would not be her self that that person was attaining. It would be someone else’s ideal.) But the process of achieving “self-reliance” (Emerson 1960, 149; Cavell 1990, 36) will require tapping into what Emerson calls one’s “genius”: the intimate source of inspiration, verve, and creativity that we all have—but only a few convincingly express for others to see and appreciate. Cavell calls Emersonian genius “the capacity for self-reliance” (Cavell 1990, 26). If one had a stable, fixed self-understanding, self-reliance would be straightforward: it would look like bootstrapping. It would focus on the discipline of doing everything for oneself and depending on no one else for anything. Such an attitude often comes across as austere and impressive—but also cold, hard, and elitist (Cavell 1990). Such a disposition, however, is not what Emerson meant by self-reliance. His portrait of the self (and his own self-understanding) is too dynamic—transfixed by the process of evolution and growth—to allow for self-reliance to ossify into arrogant indifference or narcissistic overconfidence. Instead, self-reliance is about a willing readiness that allows some previously unexpressed goodness and creative power to come to fuller expression in and as one’s self. Indeed, Andrew Norris argues: “Self-reliance, as Cavell has it, is itself the exercise not of power but of reception” (2017, 212). This idea is why Cavell claims: “Responsibility remains a task of responsiveness. I shall in effect be saying that the moral perfectionism I am most interested in exemplifies and studies this responsiveness” (Cavell 1990, 25). Although no one can achieve one’s higher self in one’s place (or tell anyone else how), people can support one another in the process of increasing self-insight and inner fruitfulness. Emerson (1960, 104) observes, “Truly speaking, it is not instruction, but provocation, that I can receive from another soul.”22 That task of offering fruitful provocation to one another on the journey of personal growth is the touchstone of a perfectionist business ethics. Indeed, founders, executives, and other business leaders manifest their genius by fostering organizational spaces most conducive for others to manifest their geniuses through fulfilling missions of organizations to which they belong. Perfectionist leaders create organizations that empower participants to express the offerings, gifts, talents, and insights that are uniquely theirs to bring into the world. Such leaders will not treat employees or other stakeholders simply as interchangeable capital: productive resources from which value can be extracted without attending to what each person reveals about herself in and through her work. Instead, perfectionist leaders treat other people as capable, even desirous, of offering unexpected, seren- dipitous, and inspired value to the firm. Perfectionism thus shares with stakeholder theory a commitment to articulating a rich account of the firm’s social ecology, which is calculated to influence the way that value is produced and distributed (Freeman 1994; Agle et al. 2008; Freeman et al. 2010). Concretely, this requires organizational designs that allow for much greater flex- ibility in the roles that people serve in their organizations and how they fulfill those roles. Enhanced personal flexibility will afford employees greater visibility as to the direct impact their work is having on themselves and the larger world. And it will offer them more control over and contact with the nexus of inputs, decisions, and outputs that make the goods they produce or services they offer meaningful https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly256 and worthwhile to all. The overall goal of greater ‘touch’ is a more dynamic match between the needs of the organization and employees’ strengths and potential. Friendships are crucial for the perfectionist because they exemplify possibilities of human excellence that are not one’s own—but that might become one’s own. A friend need not be someone you like, try to get along with, or for whom you have a special affinity. Rather, a perfectionist friend is a “beautiful enemy” (Emerson 1909, 67): beautiful because she shows you some excellence that you have not seen in yourself and an enemy precisely because she reveals something that you are not (yet) (Dula 2011). Such a revelation can result in jealousy and envy. Or it can result in appreciation, admiration, and personal growth. When the latter happens, the friendship is fruitful. In business, a perfectionist ethics suggests that we need more such friendships within organizations, across roles in organizations, and with external stakeholders (including suppliers, customers, and shareholders). But, this does not mean that people just need to “like one another more” or “learn how to play nice” or force an affinity where it is lacking. Instead, corporate cultures need spaces for organic, cross-functional, horizontal partnerships characterized by exemplary talent, trust, and reciprocal support. Leaders need to create safe spaces for treating colleagues as companions: people who cooperate in the making of a livelihood through the dynamic growth of mutual self-understanding (see Thoreau 2006). BUSINESS IMPLICATIONS OF PERFECTIONISM In what follows, we offer examples of differences that a perfectionist orientation can make for various business practices. (These examples are summarized in Table 1.) We present examples spanning three firm contexts: marketing, human resources, and executive organizational development and design. These are clearly not exhaustive but are meant to suggest avenues for reflection and additional study by managers. Marketing First, we look at marketing. When perfectionist marketers design new offerings, they do so by moving beyond simple targeting and differentiating strategies of: “What will people buy? And how can I efficiently deliver what they desire?” Instead, they consider the self-understanding of people on both sides of the exchange equation, those that make and those that buy such goods and services, recognizing their inherent tensions. For example, firms and their organizational actors often seek to extract as much as possible from consumers who seek value for money rendered (see Hill and Martin 2014). Perfectionist marketers, on the other hand, use interi- ority to more fully understand and articulate these tensions, seeking ways to serve interests of these parties so that all are acknowledged through the exchange. Such acknowledgment, in turn, leads to trust. And trust makes parties more receptive to insights about themselves that they have to gain and offer through their transac- tions. An ethical frame like social contract theory emphasizes long-term equity over short-term egoism (Watkins and Hill 2007). A perfectionist approach goes further https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 257 by suggesting that the “conversation of justice” (Cavell, 1990)—carried on through our business exchanges—is valuable because it teaches us to recognize ourselves for who we really are through our commercial partners. The moral imagination instilled by Cavellian perfectionism would also focus on what these marketer decisions reveal about people who make them in relationship to consumers and other stakeholders. Unlike consequentialist thinking, perfectionism would draw special attention to what outcomes of marketing actions convey symbol- ically about the larger nexus of human exchange relationships to which they belong. Such moral communications may manifest, or mask, intentions of managers charged with resolving complex situations by thinking outside ordinary organizational and functional constraints. They may say something about relationships both within and outside the organization. Sometimes, what they say is good. Sometimes, not so much. But attention and imagination are necessary to discern what is actually being said by such actions. Good intentions are not enough to ensure morally meaningful actions by marketers—unless they come to expression in their implementation. Another marketing consideration involves the rise of social media that is popularized in such widely read books as Alone Together: Why We Expect More from Technology and Less from Each Other and iGen: Why Today’s Super-Connected Kids Are Grow- ing Up Less Rebellious, More Tolerant, Less Happy–and Completely Unprepared for Adulthood—and What That Means for the Rest of Us, which point out the inverse Table 1: Summary of Perfectionism’s Business Implications for Three Key Divisions of a Typical Company Division: Marketing Human Resources Executive Team Relevant Function(s): Product Design Promotion Pricing Physical Distribution Crafting an Employee Value Proposition Compensating Hiring Organizational Design Culture Setting Impact of a Perfectionist Ethic: Design in ways that help people understand themselves better and express themselves more clearly. Promote thick modes of human connection through one’s brand. Price to empower the self-development of internal stakeholders, the corporation, and customers. Distribute in a way that fosters real conversation across a diverse customer base. Focus on intrinsic motivations in setting the employee value proposition by offering a uniquely hospitable ecosystem for creativity, self-expression, and personal and professional development. Compensate to acknowledge value added–and the person who added the value–not to offset agents for the disutility accrued by their work. Hire by considering a candidate’s capacity for self-awareness and personal growth, not simply that person’s perceived contribution to the firm’s human capital. Design organizations to afford all stakeholders the greatest opportunities for growth by bringing something new and meaningful into the world through their own genius. Set cultures that foster exchange as mutually self-enriching conversation–both within the organization and with stakeholders outside of it. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly258 correlation between virtual ‘connectedness’ and personal well-being (Turkle 2017; Twenge 2006). Marketing managers, who are increasingly using social media and associated analytics, may choose to focus on data that registers active media users, time spent on various platforms, and other measures of product interest. However, perfectionist marketers at such companies would be more likely to absorb data about big-picture, long-term implications of how their marketing strategies and tactics positively and/or negatively impact customers’ lives across a number of dimensions. For example, perfectionism would challenge marketers to consider how their par- ticular products fit into and support the constellation of needs that determine the quality of life of consumers (Hill and Martin 2014)—but now with ‘quality of life’ understood in terms of the potential for deepened self-inquiry and self-expression that people have within their communities. Marketers could then identify new ways to support meaningful human connectedness through relationships with products and people across the larger marketplace. What is the right price for a product that has been designed by a perfectionist manager? Once again, considerations that come into play will supplement and enrich the typical economic calculus and accounting ratios. A perfectionist marketing exec- utive considers pricing strategies that can maximize availability of their products to the broader market of consumers whose lives can be positively impacted by usage (Hill and Martin 2014), while simultaneously returning value to the employees, managers, shareholders, and other stakeholders who conjointly created the product or are impacted by its development and selling. This is not a matter of attempting to hit abstract ‘fair prices.’ Nor it is a matter of a company seeking to maximize the total resources it extracts from its customer base. Instead, it is a question of dynamically adjusting the pricing of one’s offering to ensure that all who produce it are remunerated in ways that empower them to continue expressing their inner values and personal commitments through their participation in the conversation of business exchange. On the demand side, ideal pricing strategies reflect a commit- ment to fostering diverse brand communities that contribute to customers’ journey of self-development by helping them become more intelligible to themselves and others. Such pricing will reflect the benefit to the customer embedded in the firm’s ongoing ability to grow—while simultaneously promoting more widespread access to products that encourage thicker customer conversations. Finally, a perfectionist approach to distribution would focus on increasing access to new markets and customers—especially the overlooked and underserved. This is not corporate philanthropy operating under the guise of a beneficent market strategy. Rather, expanding the scope of distribution is desirable because it enlarges the nexus of exchanges—the potential for conversations—taking place between those within the firm and those outside of it. We often learn to know and express ourselves better through conversations with heretofore unfamiliar voices—and conversely. Thus, by bringing the members of an organization into richer, more diverse, and less predictable relationships with a larger set of customers, the firm opens new opportunities for self-expression and understanding—both inside and outside of the organization. This represents an oblique—yet powerful—avenue for businesses to achieve social impact through their core operations. For example, technology https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 259 has expanded distribution options beyond traditional retailers and shopping malls, but its reach tends to be concentrated on affluent communities, leaving behind the most vulnerable consumers in the marketplace. Acknowledging interiority should recognize who is and who is not engaged in the marketplace, seeking to increase the diversity of people served and boosting the trust across relevant stakeholders. Firms may have to include marketing tactics that are now increasingly obsolete in a digital age that suffers from media fragmentation and lower reach per media outlet. Human Resources Beyond the marketing function, a perfectionist ethic would also shape human resources departments in a number of very specific ways. Consider how a perfec- tionist HR manager might craft the firm’s employee value proposition. Generally, business managers have focused heavily on extrinsic motivation to hire and inspire employees to support their companies’ missions (see Bénabou and Tirole 2003 for a discussion of motivation). However, from a perfectionist perspective, the role of intrinsic motivation has been comparatively underappreciated. Yet rethinking HR with an emphasis on the cultivation and expression of inner life will lead to a focus on novel internal motivations to guide hiring and retention efforts while giving employees a line of sight to the link between their extrinsic compensation and the inherent value of their work. It will encourage managers to stop asking: “What compensation package is required to get this person to come here?” and to begin asking “What kind of culture, development opportunities, and organizational infrastructure do we need to have in place so that the promise of personal growth is an overwhelmingly attractive consideration to our best candidates?” Here personal growth would include the opportunity to know oneself more deeply as a person through one’s growing professional expertise. It would also include the chance to build trusting relationships of reciprocal instruction in the workplace, whether with coworkers, vendors, customers, clients, investors, or others. By way of example, one specific practice for creating such a culture over time is to include a series of frank, standardized questions during the hiring process that prompt honest conversation about the actual mission of the organization and how the candidate’s personal life purposes align—or do not—with that collective purpose. Ideally, such conversations would directly inform custom onboarding pro- cesses and targeted professional growth opportunities throughout each employee’s tenure. Such practices prompt employees to understand their own aims and values more clearly and expansively by being given the opportunity to express them in the context of a corporate matrix, where other aims and values are concurrently coming to expression. Implementing such a practice, however, will require HR managers to focus explicitly on the role that their firm might play in the self-development of their employees—while emphasizing this dimension of the company’s offering in their hiring and retention efforts. Marketing culture to attract people who will grow personally while growing the company and those around them requires much more attention than is typically given to the ways in which various roles specifically afford occasions for employees to understand and express their personal convictions, commitments, and even spirituality at work (see Weymes 2005). https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly260 This is not (simply) a question of entertaining or fun workplaces with foosball tables and free food. (Though these things can sometimes foster friendship in the workplace.) It is about affording opportunities for all employees to become better versions of them- selves because of their places in systems where they are valued. Even low-level jobs like cashier or line cook can provide ways for worker self-expression and deepening personal insight about one’s character, values, and motivations if surrounding business environments are both inviting and inclusive and there are clear avenues for growth and advancement to more sophisticated roles. Ways in which businesses promote such an ethos include emphasizing mentorship opportunities for employees (not just those recognized as rising stars) (Eby et al. 2008), providing access to development options, and making it easy to receive education on a variety of personal and professional fronts. Obviously, what someone gets out of working can be more than their pay and bene- fits (Thomas 2009)—but it also includes these perks. Perfectionist leaders believe that the primary role of compensation is offering acknowledgment for the value added to customers and other stakeholders by employees. From this perspective, compensation is a means of recognizing people by empowering them to provide for their own needs and desires just as, and because they, have helped provide for the needs and desires of others through their work. When workers feel that their compensation accurately reflects their contributions, that package harmonizes with a larger corporate context that supports employees as they articulate their inner lives on the job. Yet, when pay is perceived by employees to be inequitable, it will be viewed as a sign of disrespect and cause distrust. This message may undermine other managerial efforts to boost intrinsic employee motivation. Thus, if employees are going to be afforded work that enables them to realize their potential as human beings by providing something that helps others understand and express themselves, it is crucial that a recognition of that service be communicated to them through their compensation and other associated motivators. A perfectionist paradigm also has implications for hiring processes. Managers always seek individuals who have ability to do the job, but perfectionist leaders similarly desire that employees have the capacity for increasingly reflective inte- riority. One simple way of looking for this potentiality is examining paths taken over time by potential workers. Personal and professional journeys yield insights about the priority that candidates have placed on self-reflection and inner growth at work. Another possibility is to discuss candidates’ plans for development and the extent to which interiority and seeking ‘unattained but attainable selves’ with earlier employers are implicitly or explicitly described. Nonetheless, it is important not to use a yardstick that eliminates someone from contention simply because he or she has not previously been given opportunities for self-development. Thus, focus should be on discerning capacity—or readiness—for growth, along with the inner conviction that such growth matters, rather than requiring that specific stages of personal growth and self-insight already be achieved. Executive Organizational Development Finally, perfectionism would reorient organizational design and development around the goal of creating trusting and dynamic corporate cultures. A perfectionist https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 261 manager would be inclined to recognize that people best express their interior lives when they create spaces and occasions for others to best express theirs. Founders and executives can guide the internal architecture and ethos of their companies by designing organizations that forge links connecting internal and external stakeholders. Managers can empower employees to express what they have in their hearts in their work. The result should be novel offerings that enable mindful purchasing, deepen self-understanding, and increase chances for participating in a more engaged way in the ongoing development of firms. Such efforts will mean reconsidering the kinds of strategic goals that organizations set for themselves and the metrics used to evaluate their achievement. (For three possible directions that such a reframing might take see Savitz 2013; Roche et al. 2017; Harrison and Wicks 2013.) The most effective business leaders are mindful of the communities that they are creating, both inside and outside the company. They foster networks of employees, customers, and investors that amplify people’s authentic voices through their inter- actions for/with the company. Overall, then, a perfectionist manager’s role in an organization is seeing others as they are and enabling others to express their inner life through working (employees), purchasing (consumers), and investing (owners). Therefore, management becomes a contemplative exercise. It is a question of attend- ing to true needs and desires of other people and then creating an organization that meets those needs and desires in ways that elicit mindful attention and personal growth through the conversation of exchange. Individuals who are managed and served warrant the chance to become higher versions of themselves. The place of the interior life in business, therefore, is one that makes space for others to bring their convictions, values, and dreams into the world in a way that clarifies one’s own. Management moves from a focus on power to a concentration on empowering; sometimes, this will correspond to a shift from hierarchical structures to inclusive and flat organizational designs that allow for wider, more flexible self-expression by participants. All stakeholders should be acknowledged—and should recognize that they have been acknowledged—by their firms. Thus, perfectionism cultivates trust and transparency. CONCLUSION Our view is that perfectionism is a way to encourage personal development within an organizational context that complements other ethical frames rather than acting as a substitute for them. Theoretically, perfectionism raises the question of the comprehensiveness of ethical frames such as consequentialism, deontology, virtue ethics, and Rawlsian distributive justice. Practically, we are asking business leaders to establish corporate cultures that facilitate rather than impede self-understanding and transformation through personal efforts in a collective setting. The ongo- ing process of self-discovery should support the continuous development of the organization—and vice versa. From this vantage point, the journey of personal growth allows for corporate renewal, not mindless conformity; and it places respon- sibility for such correlative development on employees, managers, and directors. It also requires allocation of the necessary time and provision of safe spaces for https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly262 employees to consider and to express their deepest fears and most important values. In the end, company culture must be one of trust across organizational layers rather than perpetual concern that the venture will ultimately result in failure. Of course, perfectionism is not an end state but a journey that moves the attained self to unattained but possible selves on a continuous basis across a dynamic field, consistent with the opening words of Joyce Carol Oates. Perfectionist leadership does not view employees in narrow functional or capital terms but supports their development and what that development can yield for the firm. It also requires greater managerial understanding of employee abilities and needs as they evolve over time and space, making both the how and why of corporate life subject to continuous renewal. As the firm hierarchy becomes increasingly flat, perfectionist friends are better able to support and challenge each other to seek their highest levels of understanding and seek the unattained but attainable collective organizational self. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS We dedicate this article to the memory of Stanley Cavell (1926-2018), who passed away shortly before this article went to press. We are grateful to Peter Dula (Eastern Mennonite University), Kelly Martin (Colorado State University), and Kirsten Martin (George Washington University) for reading and responding to an early draft of this article. The two anonymous referees for the journal offered substantive feedback that decidedly improved the final product: we appreciate their time and close attention. The editor also deserves our thanks for important insights across several revisions. NOTES 1. Joyce Carol Oates, Solstice (New York: Dutton, 1985), 114. 2. Only three articles have been published in Business Ethics Quarterly featuring one or more of these thinkers (Walton 1993; Solomon 1999; Duska 2014). Two of these articles have involved Heidegger, and one features Wittgenstein. The other two thinkers have never been featured. (For this purpose, an article is taken to “feature” a given thinker if that thinker’s name appears in the title or abstract.) This heuristic survey simply suggests that it is not only Cavell who has yet to receive serious treatment in the business ethics literature: it is also a related group of influential philosophers who are typically seen as falling outside the canon of normative ethics. One of Cavell’s achievements is to demonstrate the contributions of all four to ethical theory. Via Cavell, then, the present article implicitly brings these other thinkers to bear on business ethics. 3. Cavell’s perfectionism differs from other ‘isms’ in that it is not simply a theory about something else. Cavell enacts what he recommends in the process of recommending it. Specifically: by writing about perfectionism, Cavell is cultivating an increasingly articulate and circumspect manifestation of his own inner life through (virtual) exchange with his readers, as he invites them to enter into the same process of self-cultivation in all areas of their lives (including business). 4. Loacker and Muhr (2009) have drawn on Foucault, Butler, and Levinas to critique “moral codes” in business ethics. Their alternative to a priori criteria bears important family resemblances to the account we give here: it emphasizes the open-endedness of the ethical self and the moral centrality of responsiveness. (Indeed, Cavell himself has noted the affinity between his perfectionism and a Foucauldian “care of self” [Cavell 2010, 479]—a concept important to Loacker and Muhr.) However, there are also important differ- ences between our approach and theirs. Loacker and Muhr’s socially self-determining agent knows that some part of itself is unknowable—but does the best that it can by others anyway, knowing that even the best rules and guidelines will be inadequate to the task (2009, 272–3). In contrast, our Cavellian approach forgoes the claim to own its own blind-spots. Instead, it simply stays receptively poised—in the midst of quotidian business—to perennially new possibilities of cultivation. For Cavell, this means understanding https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 263 one’s inner life more deeply by staying attentive to the extraordinary truths about ourselves and others revealed in everyday conversation within the community through which each has the opportunity to know herself more fully. 5. Cavell does not elaborate here on why we should try to become intelligible to ourselves. However, one possible rationale is as follows: it is good to be intelligible to ourselves because, otherwise, we lack intelligence about ourselves. We do not know who we are. And, therefore, we do not know what is good for us. We are ignorant. And ignorance is doubly bad because, not only do we not know ourselves and what is good for us: we also do not know that we do not know ourselves and what is good for us. We are lost. If, at least, we knew that we were ignorant, we would (paradoxically) already have some self-knowledge. And we would discover then that we had never been entirely ignorant. Instead, we had always had some kind of self-knowledge. But perhaps we had not always been cultivating our receptivity to ever-more-lucid intelligibility. And that cultivation is the fundamental responsibility of perfectionism. Without it, we make compromises with ignorance. (For a seminal examination of the philosophical problem of ignorance, see Plato 1997.) 6. Cavell himself acknowledges these worries head-on: “From the perspective of these theories [i.e., consequentialism and deontology], Moral Perfectionism, seeming to found itself, let us say, on a concept of truth to oneself, may appear not to have arrived at the idea, or to disdain it, of other persons as counting in moral judgment with the same weight as oneself, hence to lack the concept of morality altogether” (1990, 2). 7. There is a rich literature in both business ethics and organizational studies on the importance of meaningful work and what businesses can do to promote it. (For a survey see Michaelson, Pratt, and Grant 2014.) Although there is a clear family resemblance between the aims of these approaches and goals of the present article, they are also importantly different. It is possible to feel good about one’s work without ever asking why. People may find their work to be full of meaning even though they fail to achieve deeper or more expressive self-understanding through it. One could, for example, have a medical career devoted to healing—and find great meaning in that career—without giving any consideration at all to what such work reveals about oneself or one’s relationships. Thus, without engaging one’s intelligence in self-reflection, meaningfulness may fail to become intelligible. 8. The role of conversation is especially prominent in Cavell’s work on the Hollywood comedies of remarriage (1981). In that work, following John Milton, Cavell explores the idea that marriage itself could be a “meet and happy conversation”—but with a twist: it is a human exchange that must always be rediscovered by the partners to it (1981, 87, 146). Most business relationships are far less intimate than a marriage. But even in business we talk of ‘partners’—and, especially between co-founders—we frequently compare the relationship to that of spouses. More broadly, however, Cavell suggests the possibility that even casual business exchanges might bear the significance and value of a lasting, insightful conversation. 9. Cavell’s approach to ordinary language philosophy is a constant interrogation of the interior life reflecting on its possibilities of articulation, reception, and refusal (Cavell 1999). The genealogy Cavell offers for his philosophy of interiority runs through Ludwig Wittgenstein back to Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau (Cavell 1989; cf., Wittgenstein 2009; Thoreau 2006; Emerson 1960). We regard the contemplative life as the manifestation of a well-formed, self-aware, and fruitfully expressive interiority. 10. Kraut’s quibble with the term perfectionism is mostly, but not entirely, a rhetorical reservation. He also takes issue with some of the features of perfectionism that make it objectionable to Rawls: the imperative to maximize specific forms of human brilliance—and, by implication, the justification it provides for instrumentalizing human beings who are incapable of maximally expressing specific kinds of brilliance (2007, 136 nt. 4; 179-80, nt. 31). Cavell’s version of perfectionism is decidedly non-elitist (see nt. 14 below). His approach would suggest that Rawls and Kraut conflate cultivation with cultural accomplishment. 11. Hurka refuses to countenance any connection here on the grounds that perfectionist well-being is either an empty pleonasm (if well being is simply another name for self-development), or it is an oxymoron (conflating the subjective category ‘well being’ with the objective category ‘perfection’) (1993, 17-8, 194 n. 17). 12. Thus, Kraut claims: “The good of an artifact looks to the good of something beyond it. Not so for living things: in their case, what is good for S is the flourishing of S, or what leads to it…. For human beings, no less than other living things, it is always good to flourish; and if a human being is flourishing in all ways, both physical and psychological, he is doing very well indeed” (2007, 132-3). 13. For an examination of meaningful work from the perspective of MacIntyrian virtue ethics, see Beadle and Knight (2012). This approach emphasizes the importance of developing goods like skills, abilities, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Business Ethics Quarterly264 and tempered judgment internal to specific worthwhile practices. For work that translates these ethical ide- as from conditions of production to those of consumption, see Garcia-Ruiz and Rodriguez-Lluesma (2014). 14. In the literature devoted to perfectionism and politics, there is extensive discussion about whether perfectionism is intrinsically elitist, as Rawls (for instance) has claimed (Rawls 1999, 286-8; Arneson 2000; Hurka 1993; Wall 2017; Den Uyl and Rasmussen 2016). The nagging question lurking behind the suspicion is this: what is a fair price for someone to pay for the personal development of someone else— especially in a value-pluralistic society where we may not even agree about what development is? But perhaps responding fruitfully to such a question will require criteria that are afforded only by particular, ongoing, open-ended exchanges with others—criteria that an abstract, a priori determination of what we owe each other could only prejudice. Cavell’s version of perfectionism is self-consciously democratic and non-elitist, as the opening lines of his principal work on the topic make clear (1990, 1). 15. Canonical formulations of traditional ethical theories have often been expressed in terms that stake a claim to comprehensiveness. Thus, in the Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals, Kant famously contends, “It is impossible to think of anything at all in the world, or indeed even beyond it, that could be considered good without limitation except a good will” (1999, 4:393; emphasis in original). Likewise, Mill avers in Utilitarianism, “The utilitarian doctrine is, that happiness is desirable, and the only thing desirable, as an end; all other things being only desirable as means to that end” (2017, 70). Perfectionism does not deny that happiness and good will are (or can be) morally relevant. But it keeps open the question of whether either one is really the only thing that is so. 16. Certain forms of perfectionism tend to take an objectivist bent. Like consequentialists, perfectionists insist on certain human goods that are good irrespective of the regard people have for them (Finnis 2011, 90). Such a view contrasts (for instance) with a deontological emphasis on the purity of intention as the criterion for right action. However, given its focus on passages from inner to outer and back again, Cavellian perfec- tionism is neither objectivist nor non-objectivist. The term fails to afford much illumination here. 17. Such tendencies may be taken to suggest an intellectual affinity between perfectionism and prag- matism. However, Cavell tends to downplay the similarities. For instance, he observes: “For my taste, pragmatism misses the depth of human restiveness, or say misses the daily, insistent split in the self that being human cannot, without harm to itself (beyond moments of ecstasy) escape, and so pragmatism’s encouragement for me, while essential, is limited” (2004, 5). Generally speaking, Cavellian perfection- ism shares with pragmatism an impulse to move beyond speculative ethical argumentation (whether in a neo- Kantian, consequentialist, or virtue frame). However, pragmatism is focused on what gets communicated socially. It pays little attention to who is communicating and how. But attending to these latter considera- tions requires that we account for what is communicated as a kind of revelation or manifestation: not simply as a social datum that drives empirically-assessable action. Seeing what we communicate as a disclosure of inner life exteriorized—but never commodified—allows us to treat communication as a conversation between people who are always together and, just so, always separate, distinct—even alone—but not isolated. 18. We are grateful to Peter Dula for encouraging us to foreground the crucial role that friendship plays in the work of personal growth—along with the critical edge that perfectionism maintains by declining to present an alternative to other ethical theories. 19. Thoreau draws this problematic to the reader’s attention in Walden, especially the first two chap- ters, which are tellingly entitled “Economy” and “Where I Lived, and What I Lived For.” 20. We see this recognition in Cavell’s provocative claim, “Bearing testimony and witnessing are functions of martyrdom. In Moral Perfectionism, as represented in Emerson and in Nietzsche, we are invit- ed to a position that is structurally one of martyrdom; not, however, in view of an idea of the divine but in aspiration to an idea of the human” (1990, 55–6). Cavell’s point is not that people—or businesses—have a mandate to self-abnegation. Rather, the point is that, for perfectionist leaders and the organizations they lead, the goal of survival is never absolute. There is something more important expressed through their lives than the bare fact of their lives. (Indeed, what would such lives amount to if they were simply devoted to their own mute perpetuation?) Devotion to bare survival tends to treat growth, sustainability, or some combination of the two as exhausting the significance of business. Perfectionists see things differently. When continuing to live would violate what one’s life expresses, a perfectionist will forego survival in favor of the witness of her life. (Socrates provides a paradigm case for the motivation behind such a decision.) Structurally, this condition means vulnerability to the possibility of martyrdom, at both the personal and collective levels. Therefore, witnessing the truth to the point of death will always remain an inherent possi- bility for a person or organization convinced that its life expresses something bigger than itself. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/beq.2018.26 https://www.cambridge.org/core Perfectionism and the Place of the Interior Life in Business 265 21. 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work_4gvcxed3kraadfm53knj47u3ou	----	عنوان البحث Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (581) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Self-Reliance in E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud Lecturer of English Literature in The Faculty of Arts New Valley University Abstract: Edgar Lawrence Doctorow is a famous American novelist. In Ragtime, Doctorow describes the lives of two females, Sarah and Evelyn Nesbit, who are very weak to the extent that they can not control their lives on a patriarchal society. Ralph Waldo Emerson's Self-Reliance theory will be applied to the novel. It incites man to be self-reliant and think of his personal development. This will be achieved when he believes that he can be a successful 'nonconformist,' one who rejects 'conformity,' individual. He must trust new ideas and make an intellectual revolution. In order to be a great self-reliant man, one must revolt against the world. As a result, he will be one of the world 'kings' that enjoy 'magnetism.' In Ragtime, both Nesbit and Sarah decide to follow Emerson's self-reliance. Both plan to be 'kings:' Nesbit plans to be a 'great proprietor;' Sarah plans to be 'noble.' Both plan to revolt against 'society' and become 'nonconformists.' Both face hard obstacles; 'a man is to carry himself in the presence of all oppositions.' The oppositions that Nesbit faces force her to undergo to class distinction and sexual violence; she could overcome both. The oppositions that Sarah faces force her to undergo to racial discrimination and gender oppression; she fail to overcome both. Nesbit victimized her self in order to take money from men; Sarah presents her life in her defense of her man: 'women kill themselves.' Feminism and postmodern issues appear in Ragtime. These issues show the American society's contradicted opposing nature. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Key words: Feminism- postmodernism- Self-reliance-patriarchal society ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ص:لخم "يصف حياا انيايم مام موسيقى الراجتيميعتبر إدجار لورنس دكتورو روائ أمريكى مشهور. ففى قصة " اليسااا س سااار و إيفاايبم نيساابي . إم كااي ميهرااا نااعيف لطرجااة انااة ل يسااتهيف الساايهر بااى حيا اا فااى الطو إيررسوم باى مجترف رجولى السبهة. سيقوم الباحث بتهبيق "نظرية اإل تراد بى اليفس" لرالف و القصااة. و ااث اااظ اليظريااة النسااام بااى ال تراااد بااى نفسااة والتفكياار فااى هااور الش صااى. ويركاام قيق ذلك يطما يؤمم بأنة يركية ام يكوم "غير مرتثاي لع ارا " نااجوه وااو الشا ى الاظ يارف ر فكرياة. يجاب ام يقاوم بعراي "اإلمتثال لع را ." ويجب بية ام يثق بالفكار الجطيط ويقوم بعري ناو نااور نااط العااالم. ونتيجااة لااظلكه ساايكوم احااط "مبااوي" العااالم الااظيم يترتعااوم بالجاذبيااة. فيجااط انااة فااى "موسيقى الراجتيم" كي مم سار و إيفيبم نيسبي يقرر ام يتبف "اإل تراد بى اليفس" إليررساوم. فكاي م "مم اص اب المعي" و ساار هاط ام كاوم ميهرا ي هط ام يكوم "مبكاس" فييبس هط ام كو "ش ى نبيي." فكي ميهرا ي هط لبثور بى "الرجتراف" ويصابو "غيار مرتثاي لع ارا ." وكاي ميهراا يواجة صعوبات شطيط "فاإلنسام يواجة معوقاات." فيجاط ام الرعوقاات التاى واجاة نسابي جبرااا باى تاى ساتهيف البباب باى كبيهراا. ونجاط ام الرعوقاات التاى ال ضوع لبفروقات الهبقية والعيف الجيسى وال واجة ساار جبرااا باى ال ضاوع لبتفرقاة العيصارية والقهار الياو ى والتاى فشاي فاى التبباب بيهراا. ونجط ام نسبي جعي مم نفسها ن ية لكى تركم مم ال صول باى الراال مام الرجاال اماا ساار فيجاط (582) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 اس "اليسا يقاتبم انفساهم." يوجاط لبيسااوية وال طاناة الرتقطماة موناو ات انها طفف حيا ها دفا ا م رجبه فى "موسيقى الراجتيم." و بك الرونو ات ظهر طبيعة الرجترف المريكى الرتياقضة و الرتعارنة. The current study investigates Ralph Waldo Emerson's Self-Reliance theory as presented in The Complete Essays and Other Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson with particular reference to E. L. Doctorow's Ragtime. Both Postmodernism and Feminism have some influences on the novel; will be analyzed. E. L. Doctorow is a famous American novelist. Ragtime was published in 1975. In Ragtime, Doctorow describes the lives of two females, Sarah and Evelyn Nesbit, who are very weak to the extent that they can not control their lives on a patriarchal society. Both suffer on the hands of men; however, decide to follow self-reliance in order to seek success and prosperity. Following self-reliance, both present sacrifices to men in order to attract and please them: both kill themselves. Self- reliance collides with their suffering on the hands of men and led to their sacrifices. The rationale behind this study is two-fold. Firstly, it is worthy to discover how Doctorow mixes history and fiction to present a story that reflects his views regarding the conditions of America in the beginning of the 20th century: "You will never have read anything like Ragtime before. Nothing quite like it has ever been written before." (Bloom- 75) His style of writing in mixing history and fiction to present his views is marvelous; it was rarely used before. Secondly, it is worthwhile to discover how females follow self-reliance in seeking prosperity. Ragtime is considered a postmodernist novel; among the postmodernist issues that can be found in Ragtime are the decentring of society, uncertainty, plurality and indeterminacy of meaning. Among the feminist issues that can be found in Ragtime are sexual violence, gender oppression and referring to some feminist demands. Raman Seldon assures: "Other examples of self-reflexive postmodernist metafiction… would include… E.L. Doctorow… so postmodernist writers break down conventional boundaries of discourse, between fiction and history…" (199-200) Seldon classifies Ragtime as a self-reflexive postmodernist novel because it reflects Doctorow's personal views through breaking the boundaries between fiction and history. In Ragtime, postmodern elements and themes are presented side by side with feminist ones. Both movements flourished in America: "This movement (feminism) pushed up to the postmodernism that could bloom and balloon widespread together in the USA." (Kumar, 18) In American, both movements spread and succeeded; postmodernism advocates equality between man and woman as well. Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (583) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 There is a clear connection between postmodernism and feminism; Seldom comments: "The condition of postmodernity… is marked by the 'valoraization' of the feminine, woman as 'intrinsic to new and necessary modes of thinking, writing, speaking… . Concerned with… feminine 'space' which the master narratives always contain but can not control…'a woman-in-effect' that is never stable and has no identity." (209-210) Postmodernism is concerned with woman; it is concerned with advocating woman, and with showing woman in struggle while seeking identity. During the time of the novel, American society was full of female repression and this led to the emergence of many women movements that called for women rights: "The Progressive Era was an extremely important time for America’s women. During this time Women gained greater access to education and began to assert their equality in the home."(McNally, 6) Women began to seek equality through the rise of two women movements that declared women demands in public: In 1869 two distinct factions of the suffrage movement emerged. Stanton and Anthony created the National Woman Suffrage Association (NWSA)… . Lucy Stone… formed the American Woman Suffrage Association (AWSA)… . The NWSA … was based in New York… . Between 1910 and 1914, the NAWSA intensified its lobbying efforts…( History) The Women movements formed two groups and one of them, led by Stanton and Anthony, was in New York which is the setting of Ragtime. The ground was paved for the emergence of Feminism theory in literature to reflect the status quo of women in the American society. Emerson's Self-Reliance theory will be analyzed. Emerson is an American critic who wrote Self-Reliance, an essay published in 1841. In this essay, he advocates the individual, considering him the center. Emerson wants to plant this individual in the American society. Surely, by speaking about the individual or self, Emerson does not intend to advocate selfishness; however, he advocates one's personal development. Emerson tells man that "he must take himself for better…" (146) Emerson advices and incites man to develop himself. He asserts: "The genesis and maturation of a planet… are demonstrations of the self- sufficing and therefore the self-relying soul." (159) The world's development depends on the development of its units that are the souls. When a man is self-relying, he will develop himself, hence, developing the world. (584) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Emerson rejects the society that is full of ordinary people; however, it must be full of developed distinctive individuals. For this reason, he repudiates conformity: Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members… . Self- reliance is its aversion. Who so would be a man, must be a nonconformist… . Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind… . What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions… . A man is to carry himself in the presence of all opposition… . A man must consider… this game of conformity. (148- 150) Emerson rejects being a normal man in a society that sticks to traditions and pushes man to be ordinary. Society will be dangerous to man's manhood. When one wants to be a true man, he must reject society's conformity and tries to be better than the usual. One must trust his mind and rejects what is forced upon him by society; nothing is sacred. One must struggle against all society's oppositions. Man will be a distinctive person when he works hard. He must realize the game of conformity so as to be able to defeat it. In rejecting the society's traditions and habits, man must repudiate the past with its archaic ideas and think of new ideas. This will lead to an intellectual revolution. Emerson rejects being a conformist and considers the world's prominent characters kings: The world has been instructed by its kings, who have so magnetized the eyes of nations… . The king, the noble, or the great proprietor to walk among them (men) by a law of his own, make his own scale of men and things and reverse theirs… and represent the law in his person… . The magnetism which all original action exert is explained when we inquire the reason of self-trust. Who is the Trustee? What is the aboriginal Self, on which a universal reliance may be grounded? (155) In the world, there are leading figures that Emerson calls 'kings.' They enjoy a unique privilege- nobility, richness, or position- that gives them magnetism. People gather around them and these kings impose their laws and measures upon other men and may even reverse these men's measures. Emerson clarifies that men's attraction to and trusting of these kings give them magnetism; as a result, the universal reliance is grounded on these kings, Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (585) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Emerson rejects fear and advices man: "God will not have his work made manifest by cowards… "(146) Man must trust his new ideas; not to be a coward. To be a courageous man is a must for being a true man. Emerson, also, assures: Live no longer to the expectations of these deceived and deceiving people… . I must be myself. It is easy to see that a greater self-reliance must work a revolution in all offices and relations of men." (159- 162) Emerson warns against being frightened of other men. Man must revolt against the wrong in all life's aspects and in all relations with others. Emerson's self-reliance theory incites man to be self-reliant and think of his personal development. This will be achieved when he believes that he can be a successful 'nonconformist' individual. He must trust new ideas and make an intellectual revolution. In order to be a great self-reliant man, one must revolt against the world. As a result, he will be one of the world 'kings' that enjoy 'magnetism.' After analyzing Emerson's theory, it is suitable to analyze Ragtime. The title of Ragtime refers to the ragtime music. When played on the piano, ragtime music has a repetitive tone: "Like ragtime music, Ragtime has a strong repetitive base of true historical events and characters," (Course) The historical events and characters are repeated; however, this time, these characters are connected to fictional ones. Doctorow justifies the name of novel in the final chapter of the text of the novel when he states: "And by that time the era of Ragtime had run out, with the heavy breath of the machine, as if history were no more than a tune on a player piano. (Doctorow, 270) He says that the time of the novel is called the era of Ragtime and this name refers to the repetition of historical events and characters everyday the same way as the tune of ragtime music is repeated. Zohren Ramin gives a similar illustration regarding the title of Ragtime: Like ragtime music, the novel appears to be a syncopation of both sides; the oppressors and the oppressed…, historical facts versus fiction… and yet just as ragtime music is syncopated music (the weak beats in the bar are stressed instead of the strong beats), the novel intends to deconstruct the oppositions by focusing the attention on the inferior or lesser paid attention…; the oppressed immigrants, the blacks, the female, and fiction. (162) Doctorow's style of writing depends on presenting the oppositions and focuses on the weak side- the oppressed immigrants, the blacks, the (586) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 female and fiction- the same way as the ragtime music depends on presenting the weak and the strong beats but focusing on the weak beats. The setting of the novel refers to U.S. from the beginning of the 20 th century to the end of World War I. This period was known as the Progressive Era: "At the turn of the twentieth century America witnessed the Progressive movement… . In the book titled Ragtime… E. L. Doctorow presents these times…" (Research) This movement was formed to reform the American social, economic and governmental affairs. The central actions of the novel took place in New York. The summary of the novel will be handled. Doctorow's Ragtime presents three families that interweave in New York after the beginning of the 20th century and before World War I. The major family consists of Father, Mother, Grandfather, Mother's Younger Brother, and The Little Boy. They live in New Rochelle and they live an easy life. The Father leaves for an expedition in the pole. Oneday, Mother rescues a black new born baby whose mother intends to bury him alive in the Mother's garden. She discovers that the baby's mother is Sarah, a neighbour. The baby's father abandoned her and the child. Instead of reporting the police about Sarah's crime, Mother decides to care about both Sarah and her baby. After a short time, the baby's father appears and comes to Sarah. He is a black ragtime pianist whose name is Coalhouse Walker. Now, he wishes to see Sarah, but she refuses. Insisting to see her, she accepts and they meet weekly in Mother's house. Things go well till Coalhouse is involved in a racial fight with some white firefighters. The police officers refuse to help him report their transgression because he is black. He hires a lawyer but he makes things go badly. When Sarah hears about the vice- president's coming, she decides to plead Coalhouse's case to him. However, when she approaches the vice-president, she is mistaken for an assassin and gets killed. On hearing the news of her death, Coalhouse resorts to violence against the government; eventually, he is killed. Evelyn Nesbit is a model and chorus girl who is married to Harry Kindell Thaw, a millionaire. Now, he is on a trial for murdering her ex- lover, the famous architect Stanford White. Thaw did that out of jealousy. Nesbit testifies in Thaw's defence for $200000. She meets Tateh and his daughter The Little Girl in court. Tateh decide to draw a portrait of Nesbit. Tateh introduces her to Emma Goldman, a famous anarchist who calls for women rights. Tateh and the Little Girl go to New Jersey. After Sarah's death, Mother, Father, The Little Boy, and Sarah's baby go to New Jersey where they meet Tateh and the Little Girl. After Father's death in World War I, Mother gets in love with Tateh and they get married. The Little Boy and The Little Girl become close friends. Mother, Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (587) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Tateh, The Little Girl, The Little Boy, and Sarah's baby go to California and live their happily. Doctorow's style of writing in Ragtime is unique; he intermingles history and fiction: "Yet like a ragtime mucisian, Doctorow 'riffs' on these hisrorical events by blending fact and fiction. It is unlikely that Thaw's model wife Evelyn Nesbit ever met Goldman…" (Course) Thaw, Nesbit, and Goldman are real famous characters in life; however, Nesbit did not meet Goldman. Doctorow, fictionally, makes both close friends- fact is mixed with fiction. Again, the trial of Thaw was the trial of the century in Anerica in real life: "The novel opens with love triangle of Evelyn Nesbit, Harry Kendall Thaw and Stanford White. All the three characters are taken from real life and are involved in the story with the same destinies as in their real lives." (Skřepská, 34) Doctorow borrows this story from real life and, fictionally, uses it in his novel. Doctorow's intention in bringing these historical characters back to life and putting them in newly invented situations is to "create new viewpoints for discussing American history." (Course) These viewpoints are Doctorow's and are transferred to readers through this unique style. Accordingly, Doctorow's handling enables readers to "discover another beat or tone to American life," (Bloom, 66) Doctorow uncovers new dimensions in the American life; otherwise, he reshapes it. Walker L. Knorr assures: Doctorow, in devising his own social history of the first decade of the Twentieth Century in United States, not only draws from the biographies of actual personages of that period, but also exercises that privilege afforded men of letters to borrow freely from traditions… (225- 226) Doctorow reflects America's social history, presenting real historical characters and borrowing from American tradition of that period. Doctorow uses the metafiction technique in Ragtime: he presents the historical characters and events, such as the trial of Thaw, inside the story of the novel. Another metafiction is found is Doctorow's use of Theodore Dreiser's (an American realist writer) novel Sister Carrie inside Ragtime. This novel was attacked for its bold handling of the subject of prostitution in America. Doctorow's presenting of Dreiser's novel in Ragtime reflects the fact that "much of the concern with the sexual fate of women that Doctorow explores in Ragtime was quite clearly inspired by the example of Theodore Dreiser." (Ragtime) In Ragtime, Doctorow depicts an image of the "novelist Theodore Dreiser was suffering terribly from the bad reviews and negligible sales of his first book, _Sister Carrie__." (Doctorow, 23) Dreiser was depressed and ashamed of the criticism that his novel received. In Ragtime, he is unable to put his chair in the right (588) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 direction because he is unable "to align it properly." (Doctorow, 23) His inability to align the chair symbolizes his inability to handle the subject of prostitution properly in his Sister Carrie. Doctorow's use of this symbol deepens Dreiser's sense of inability. Another symbol can be found in the marks which Nesbit's corset left on her flesh: "Evelyn finally removes her corset, not only literally but also symbolically…" (Course). These marks symbolize her psychological wounds that were done by men's sexual violence. Ragtime's plot is built craftily and "the historical figures… are woven into the plot of the story…."(Ramin, 165) The three families present three subplots and they are intermingled and shape the novel's central plot. Two families are connected when Tateh meet Nesbit and introduces her to Goldman whose "beliefs are crucial factor of Ragtime plot…" (Grades, 2) Goldman spots the aspects of Nesbit character; exposes the conditions of the American women movements in the beginning of the 20th century. The narrator of Ragtime is The Little Boy. However, the narrator's insight and comments on the events of the novel tells us that he is aware of the American society. He presents wise remarks about the American society's problems using the possessive pronoun 'our' in one occasion: "This was the time in our history." (Doctorow, 23) This tells us that he is a wise American thinker. The uncertainty of narrator makes things ambiguous for readers to determine the real narrator: "This unconstrained consciousness can look in all directions." (Sánchez, 20) His unlimited insight makes him surpass the perspective of a little boy. If so, then, it is Doctorow's perspective that reflects that narrator. Characterization is one of Doctorow's tools to present his point of view. The first character that will be analyzed is Evelyn Nesbit. She is a beautiful woman from a poor low class. She is a real character in life: Evelyn Nesbit December 25, 1884 – January 17, 1967 An American artists’ model and chorus girl, noted for her entanglement in the murder of her ex-lover, architect Stanford White, by her first husband, Harry Kendall Thaw. (McNally, 9) She is a famous woman and is known to the public as a woman who betrayed her husband, caused the death of her lover and destroyed her husband. Her misery was caused by her poverty. It started from the age fifteen when White raped her, and she became his sex slave since then. In additions, she paved the way for Thaw to rape her to force him to marry her. She is forced to do what society pushed her to do: "A woman forced Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (589) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 by this capitalist society to find her genius in the exercise of her sexual attraction." (Doctorow, 46) She is forced to use her beauty to get money and fame. She is convinced that it is her only weapon in a patriarchal society. She satisfied her need for money by this marriage because she was not strong enough to resist the poverty that is forced by society since she was fifteen years old: she "accepted the conditions." (Doctorow, 48) She took money form Thaw to lie in court: "She had agreed to testify in his behalf for the sum of two hundred thousand dollars." (Doctorow, 23) She has a price for everything and her body was a good for sale. She exploits her beautiful face to get fame and money: "In the tabloid press and magazines of the day, Nesbit was depicted as the ideal of beauty and charm." (Ragtime) She became a famous model of beauty in America. When Nesbit meets Emma Goldman, Goldman instructs her, calling her prostitution. Being a feminist socialist who demands women's rights, "Goldman…. offers the maximum contrast of feminine archetypes." (Ragtime) Doctorow presents contrasted feminine models in Ragtime to show the diversity in America at that time. The second character is Emma Goldman; "she was not a physically impressive woman, being small, thick-waisted, with a heavy-jawed masculine face. She wore horn-rimmed glasses…" (Doctorow, 45) She is a famous anarchist socialist who demands women rights in the American society. She is not an attractive woman. Doctorow presents Goldman as one of the socialist feminists. In one of her meetings she announces her demands: One day Tateh invited her (Nesbit) to a meeting of which the Socialist Artists' Alliance… . The features speaker was to be none other than Emma Goldman. why is marriage not a problem?... . women may not vote, they may not love whom they want, they may not develop their minds and their spirits, they may not commit their lives to the spiritual adventure of life, comrades they may not! And why? Is our genius only in our wombs? (Doctorow, 46) Goldman's demands are presented through her speech in this meeting and, indirectly, in her conversation with Nesbit. As a matter of fact, these demands are Doctorow's: "Doctorow has a talent for finding characters to state the truth of a situation, and Emma Goldman is perfect here for defining a woman's role at the beginning of the 20th century."(Shmoop) Doctorow's skill in transmitting his point of view to readers through Goldman's views is great. In this meeting, Goldman attacks marriage when she says: "Why is marriage not a problem?" Goldman condemns marriage for she considers (590) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 it a bargain: when a poor girl marries a rich man for food and shelter. Poverty humiliates poor girls and forces them to seek food and shelter under the roof of a rich man through marriage; Goldman says: "Is our genius only in our wombs?" This is clear in "Goldman's meeting, where she expresses her disbelief in the institution of marriage. Goldman compares marriage to slavery, saying that it is oppressing to women." (Ragtime) Goldman announces her demands and shows her repudiation of marriage. Through her conversation with Nesbit, Goldman criticizes Nesbit for marrying Thaw for money and says: "You're nothing more than a clever prostitute… . I have never taken a man to bed without loving him." (Doctorow, 48-49) According to her speech, Goldman accepts having sex with a man without marriage as long as she loves that man. She considers Nesbit's marriage nothing but prostitution. Goldman could convince Nesbit to get free from the bondage of her marriage and to seek love; till then, she offers her masturbation: "With the help of Goldman, she gains autognosis through masturbation… . Nesbit… wants to… get rid of her label as an 'objects'…" (Evelyn) Goldman advices Nesbit to seek love; offers masturbation as a sexual relieve. Some of Goldman's demands appear when she criticizes Nesbit's tight dress: "Marks of the stays ran vertically like welts around Nesbit's waist. The evidence of garters could be seen in the red lines running around the tops of her thighs. Women kill themselves, Goldman said." (Doctorow, 53) During the time of the novel, women used to dress tight dresses with tight stays that used to leave marks on the flesh. Women used to do so in order to appear thinner so as to attract and please men: "In a man's world, women dressed to please men and accentuate their figure. Goldman… berates Evelyn for the corset and other undergarments she wears." (Shmoop) Goldman, harshly, blames Nesbit for dressing a tight dress in order to please men and Goldman comments: "Women kill themselves." This reflects women's contending to attract men in order to seduce them and marry them for money. Goldman wants women to free themselves from being goods for sale that need to be ornamented. Otherwise, they should seek lovers not buyers. The last character is Sarah. She is an eighteen years old black girl who lives in Rochelle. She is depicted as an innocent straightforward girl. She had a love affair with Coalhouse, however, he proved a villain. He abandoned her when he knew that she is pregnant to avoid bearing the responsibility of the baby with her. Feeling that she is, financially, unable to raise the baby, she decides to bury it in Mother's garden, but Mother rescues the baby and, even, hosts Sarah in her house. Later on, Coalhouse comes back to her and things went well. When he gets involved in a fight Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (591) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 with some white firefighters, Sarah decides to depend on herself and help him by pleading his case to the vice president; she gets killed. She proves to be a noble loving woman who is ready to present sacrifices for the man that she loves; she already pays her life for her lover. It is proper to apply Emerson's Self-Reliance theory to Ragtime in order to discover how both Nesbit and Sarah follow its principles. The first character that will be analyzed is Nesbit; her plan to become a self- reliant woman will be analyzed. According to Emerson, her plan is to be a 'king,' who has 'so magnetized the eyes of nations.' Emerson's 'king' may be a 'great proprietor.' Hence, Nesbit needs be a rich woman. Being a poor girl, she decided to use her beauty and sexual attraction to take money from men. In Ragtime, Nesbit did four things that prove her hunger for wealth. Firstly, when she was fifteen years old, she was rapped by White and her poverty obliged her not to expose his crime or report the authorities. Instead, she accepted being his sex slave in exchange for money. Secondly, the sexual violence to which she was exposed and her submission to White made it easy for her to do this again with Thaw. This time it was planned; Thaw paid her mother to take her in a rented castle in Germany where he raped her: "In Southampton Harry paid of Evelyn's mother and took Evelyn alone to the Continent." (Doctorow, 20) There, he violently raped her and when White saw the torturing marks on her flesh, he called a lawyer to sue Thaw: "He sent her to a lawyer who prepared an affidavit as to what happened in the Schloss Katzenstein. Evelyn signed the affidavit… . Harry K. Thaw read the affidavit, turned pale and immediately proposed marriage."( Doctorow, 21) Thaw had to propose marriage to cover what he did. She accepted that marriage but never forgot White. She was White's mistress but was planning to marry Thaw; he was a very rich man. Her mother was an accomplice in that plan; accepted his money in exchange for her daughter. Her keen wish to have money made her connive at both White's and Thaw's crimes of raping her and she could, even, take advantage of these connivances monetarily. Thirdly, she took money from Thaw to lie in court. Fourthly, she wears a corset in order to attract and please men. San Miguel comments on Nesbit's monetarily aspirations: Ragtime may be said to manifest underlying criticism of traditional female compliance with their own victimization in an attempt to fulfill economic aspirations which are in turn imposed by the capital values of the patriarchal society that oppresses them…" (104-105) (592) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Women submit to victimization in order to achieve economic aspiration; this is imposed by the patriarchal society that oppresses them. Goldman describes her success: "The victory of the prostitute." (Doctorow, 48) Society biases to men at the expense of women and this forces Nesbit to be a prostitute in order to be rich and a 'king.' As a matter of fact, "Evelyn Nesbit was far from an innocent." (Ragtime) She is a cunning woman whose determination is reckless. According to Emerson, Nesbit decides to raise a revolution against 'society' because 'Self-reliance is its aversion;' she insists that she 'must be a nonconformist.' She agrees with Emerson's notion: 'What have I to do with the sacredness of traditions.' She rejects society with its traditions, following Emerson's notion that 'a greater self-reliance must work a revolution in all offices and relations of men.' Nesbit rejects the chains of her patriarchal society and plans for a revolution against it: her plan is to change conformity. During the time of the novel, the family is considered a sacred unit of society and this gave a great respect to marriage and condemned prostitution: Doctorow's choice of the women movement as the theme is appropriate to the period of his novel, which is set in the decade between 1906 and 1915… In the Victorian atmosphere where the family unit was sacred… . The whole question of female sexuality was considered taboo, as some feminists formed out when they first gave voice to radical ideas… (Ragtime) Her revolution includes challenging the conformist traditions of the sacred family and of considering female sexuality a taboo through spreading her pictures on tabloid magazines, and destroying her marriage with Thaw. In additions, her economic aspiration is considered a revolution against a society that considered rising from poverty to richness is only for men: Evelyn's behaviors… may be alternatively understood as revolutionary… .The rise from rags to riches was a possibility only for men… . In spite of the apparent condemnation of Evelyn's immoral ways to achieve her ambition…it is undeniable that she has achieved her aim. (San Miguel, 105) Whatever the immoral means of gaining a fortune, Nesbit is victorious and her victory shows the success of her revolution. The second character that will be analyzed is Sarah; her plan to become a self-reliant woman will be analyzed. She puts a plan to become Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (593) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 a 'king' by being 'noble.' Her nobility raises a revolution against 'society' in order to be a 'nonconformist.' That society biases to the whites at the expense of the blacks. When Coalhouse is oppressed by the whites, she decides to plead his case to the vice president but she is shot dead. Her revolt presents a sacrifice to her man and she dies for his sake. Both Nesbit and Sarah decide to follow Emerson's self-reliance. Both plan to be 'kings:' Nesbit plans to be a 'great proprietor;' Sarah plans to be 'noble.' Both plan to revolt against 'society' and become 'nonconformists.' Both face hard obstacles; 'a man is to carry himself in the presence of all oppositions.' The oppositions that Nesbit faces force her to undergo to class distinction and sexual violence; she could overcome both. The oppositions that Sarah faces force her to undergo to racial discrimination and gender oppression; she fail to overcome both. In order to be self- reliant, Nesbit victimized her self in order to take money from men; Sarah presents her life in her defense of her man: 'women kill themselves.' Feminism in Ragtime is clear in the following issues: sexual violence and gender oppression. Sexual violence is obvious in Nesbit suffering and rape on the hands of both White and Thaw. Gender oppression is obvious in Sarah's abandonment by Coalhouse in order to avoid taking the responsibility of raising their baby. Both sexual violence and gender oppression makes it clear that women are oppressed in that patriarchal society. The following postmodernism's issues are clear in Ragtime: indeterminacy, uncertainty and decentring. Sanchez elaborates: "Ragtime dramatizes American society's loss of… harmony and stability, and its awakening to a decentered world…" (Sánchez, 17) The novel describes diverse conflicts that lead to the loss of stability and to decentricity. The third issue of postmodernism appears in the uncertainty of narrator. In conclusion, Emerson's self-reliance theory incites man to be self- reliant and think of his personal development. This will be achieved when he believes that he can be a successful 'nonconformist' individual. He must trust new ideas and make an intellectual revolution. In order to be a great self-reliant man, one must revolt against the world. As a result, he will be one of the world 'kings' that enjoy 'magnetism.' Both Nesbit and Sarah decide to follow Emerson's self-reliance. Both plan to be 'kings:' Nesbit plans to be a 'great proprietor;' Sarah plans to be 'noble.' Both plan to revolt against 'society' and become 'nonconformists.' Both face hard obstacles; 'a man is to carry himself in the presence of all oppositions.' The oppositions that Nesbit faces force her to undergo to class distinction and sexual violence; she could overcome both. The oppositions that Sarah faces force her to undergo to racial discrimination and gender oppression; she fail to overcome both. Nesbit victimized her (594) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 self in order to take money from men; Sarah presents her life in her defense of her man: 'women kill themselves.' Feminism and postmodern issues appear in Ragtime. These issues show the American society's contradicted opposing nature. Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (595) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Works Cited Primary Sources: Doctorow, Edgar Lawrence. Ragtime, New York: Random House, 1975. https://archive.org/details/ragtime00doct_j4y/page/n9 Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 'Self-Reliance.' The Complete Essays and Other Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by Brooks Atkinson, The Modern Library, New York, 1940. -complete-the-emerson-waldo-s.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/ralphhttps://somacle 1950.pdf-library-modern-the-emerson-waldo-ralph-of-writings-other-and-essays Secondary Sources: Web Sites: Course Hero. "Ragtime Study Guide." Course Hero. 13 Mar. 2017. Web. 4 Dec. 2019. <https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Ragtime/>. https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Ragtime/plot-summary/#plot_diagram Evelyn Nesbit: From Being Object to Becoming a Subject, 14 May 2018. https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/from-the-other-towards-the-subject-a- study-of-evelyn-nesbit-in-ragtime/ Grades Fixer, Ragtime and Female Roles, 08 Jun 2018. https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/womens-roles-in-ragtime/ History, Art & Archives, U.S. House of Representatives, Office of the Historian, Women in Congress, 1917–2006. Washington, D.C.: U.S. Government Printing Office, 2007. “The Women’s Rights Movement, 1848–1920.” https://history.house.gov/Exhibitions-and-Publications/WIC/Historical-Essays/No- Lady/Womens-Rights/ McNally, Terrence, Ragtime: The Guide, 2009. https://www.pcs.org/assets/uploads/resource-guides/ResourceGuide-Ragtime.pdf Research Paper, Progressive Era, 24/11/2010. http://www.coolr.ru/Ragtime_Essay_Research_Paper_Ragtime_by_DoctorowAt Ragtime by E L Doctorow, September 6, 2017. http://samedaypapers.me/ragtime-by-e-l-doctorow/ Shmoop, Study guide Ragtime, https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/ragtime https://archive.org/search.php?query=date:1975 https://archive.org/details/ragtime00doct_j4y/page/n9 https://somacles.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/ralph-waldo-emerson-the-complete-essays-and-other-writings-of-ralph-waldo-emerson-the-modern-library-1950.pdf https://somacles.files.wordpress.com/2018/07/ralph-waldo-emerson-the-complete-essays-and-other-writings-of-ralph-waldo-emerson-the-modern-library-1950.pdf https://www.coursehero.com/lit/Ragtime/plot-summary/#plot_diagram https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/from-the-other-towards-the-subject-a-study-of-evelyn-nesbit-in-ragtime/ https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/from-the-other-towards-the-subject-a-study-of-evelyn-nesbit-in-ragtime/ https://gradesfixer.com/free-essay-examples/womens-roles-in-ragtime/ https://history.house.gov/Exhibitions-and-Publications/WIC/Historical-Essays/No-Lady/Womens-Rights/ https://history.house.gov/Exhibitions-and-Publications/WIC/Historical-Essays/No-Lady/Womens-Rights/ https://www.pcs.org/assets/uploads/resource-guides/ResourceGuide-Ragtime.pdf http://www.coolr.ru/Ragtime_Essay_Research_Paper_Ragtime_by_DoctorowAt http://samedaypapers.me/ragtime-by-e-l-doctorow/ https://www.shmoop.com/study-guides/literature/ragtime (596) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Periodicals: Azatyan, Shmavon. The Clash Between Individual and Order in E.L. Doctorow's Ragtime. American University of Armenia/Ayb High School. Humanities and Social Sciences Review, January 2013, 20 December 2018. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/329799426_THE_CLASH_BETWEEN_IN DIVIDUAL_AND_ORDER_IN_EL_DOCTOROW'S_RAGTIME Kumar Yadav, Manoj, E. L. Doctorow as a Postmodern American Novelist: The Role of Historiography and Ethnography, European Journal of Literary Studies. Volume 2, Issue 1, 2019, 20 March 2019. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/331908031_E_L_DOCTOROW_AS_A_PO STMODERN_AMERICAN_NOVELIST_THE_ROLE_OF_HISTORIOGRAPHY_A ND_ETHNOGRAPHY Knorr, Walter L. “Doctorow and Kleist: ‘Kohlhaas’ in ‘Ragtime.’” Modern Fiction Studies, vol. 22, no. 2, 1976, pp. 224–227. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/26280292. Kurth-Voigt, Lieselotte E. “Kleistian Overtones in E.L. Doctorow's ‘Ragtime.’” Monatshefte, vol. 69, no. 4, 1977, pp. 404–414. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/30156853. Moraru, Christian. “The Reincarnated Plot: E. L. Doctorow's ‘Ragtime’, Heinrich Von Kleist's ‘Michael Kohlhaas," and the Spectacle of Modernity.” The Comparatist, vol. 21, 1997, pp. 92–116. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/44366960. Ramin, Zohreh, History/ Fiction: An Intertextual reading of E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime, The Southeast Asian Journal of English Language Studies – Vol 20(1):157– 166. March 2014. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/279216574_History_Fiction_An_Intertextua l_reading_of_E_L_Doctorow's_Ragtime Roynon, Tessa. Ovid, Race and Identity in E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime (1975) and Jeffrey Eugenides’s Middlesex (2002) International Journal of the Classical Tradition, 18 February 2019. w.pdf-00510-019-https://link.springer.com/content/pdf/10.1007%2Fs12138 Sánchez, Jesús Benito. “«Doctorow's ‘Ragtime’: A Breach in The Frame of History».” Atlantis, vol. 19, no. 2, 1997, pp. 15–24. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41055457. San Miguel, María Ferrandez, The Collusion of Feminist and Postmodernist Impulses in E.L. Doctorow’s Ragtime, Complutense Journal of English Studies 2015, vol. 23, 97-114. https://revistas.ucm.es/index.php/CJES/article/view/48592/47883 Voros, Gergely, Ragtime as “False Document”: Narratives and a Constructed World in E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime, liberation https://www.researchgate.net/publication/329799426_THE_CLASH_BETWEEN_INDIVIDUAL_AND_ORDER_IN_EL_DOCTOROW'S_RAGTIME https://www.researchgate.net/publication/329799426_THE_CLASH_BETWEEN_INDIVIDUAL_AND_ORDER_IN_EL_DOCTOROW'S_RAGTIME https://www.researchgate.net/publication/331908031_E_L_DOCTOROW_AS_A_POSTMODERN_AMERICAN_NOVELIST_THE_ROLE_OF_HISTORIOGRAPHY_AND_ETHNOGRAPHY https://www.researchgate.net/publication/331908031_E_L_DOCTOROW_AS_A_POSTMODERN_AMERICAN_NOVELIST_THE_ROLE_OF_HISTORIOGRAPHY_AND_ETHNOGRAPHY https://www.researchgate.net/publication/331908031_E_L_DOCTOROW_AS_A_POSTMODERN_AMERICAN_NOVELIST_THE_ROLE_OF_HISTORIOGRAPHY_AND_ETHNOGRAPHY http://www.jstor.org/stable/30156853 https://www.researchgate.net/publication/279216574_History_Fiction_An_Intertextual_reading_of_E_L_Doctorow's_Ragtime https://www.researchgate.net/publication/279216574_History_Fiction_An_Intertextual_reading_of_E_L_Doctorow's_Ragtime https://link.springer.com/content/pdf/10.1007%2Fs12138-019-00510-w.pdf https://link.springer.com/content/pdf/10.1007%2Fs12138-019-00510-w.pdf https://revistas.ucm.es/index.php/CJES/article/view/48592/47883 http://americanaejournal.hu/vol14no2/voros http://americanaejournal.hu/vol14no2/voros Mahmoud Serwa Abd EL- Hamid Mahmoud (597) Occasional Papers Vol. 68: October (2019) ISSN 1110-2721 Americana, E-Journal of American Studies in Hungary, Volume XIV, number 2, fall 2018 http://americanaejournal.hu/vol14no2/voros Books: Bloom, Harold, ed. Bloom's Guides: E.L. Doctorow’s Ragtime. Chelsea House Publishers, Philadelphia. 2004 https://epdf.pub/el-doctorows-ragtime-blooms-guides.htm1 PhDs: Skřepská, Michaela, E. L. Doctorow’s Ragtime: History and Fiction, University of South Bohemia, 2015. http://americanaejournal.hu/ http://americanaejournal.hu/vol14no2/voros https://epdf.pub/el-doctorows-ragtime-blooms-guides.htm1 
work_4nxouxkmwvd3toljukak6jomlu	----	Nouvelle Biographie, Pulp Nonfiction, and National Crisis: the year in france HAL Id: hal-02105225 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-02105225 Submitted on 20 Apr 2019 HAL is a multi-disciplinary open access archive for the deposit and dissemination of sci- entific research documents, whether they are pub- lished or not. The documents may come from teaching and research institutions in France or abroad, or from public or private research centers. L’archive ouverte pluridisciplinaire HAL, est destinée au dépôt et à la diffusion de documents scientifiques de niveau recherche, publiés ou non, émanant des établissements d’enseignement et de recherche français ou étrangers, des laboratoires publics ou privés. Nouvelle Biographie, Pulp Nonfiction, and National Crisis: the year in france Joanny Moulin To cite this version: Joanny Moulin. Nouvelle Biographie, Pulp Nonfiction, and National Crisis: the year in france. Biog- raphy, University of Hawaii Press, 2017, 40 (4), pp.588-595. �10.1353/bio.2017.0051�. �hal-02105225� https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-02105225 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr Biography vol. 40, no. 4, Fall 2017 © Biographical Research Center nouvelle biographie, pulp nonfiction, and national crisis the year in france joanny moulin By a stroke of fate, the summer of 2017 has seen the demise of two famous French biographers, Max Gallo (1931–2017) and Gonzague Saint Bris (1948– 2017). Although they came from radically different social backgrounds, they both stood for a certain idea of biography as a popular literary genre charac- terized by conservative tendencies and a kitsch style of pop history. Max Gallo was the son of working-class Italian immigrants who had found in Nice, in southeast France, a shelter against Mussolini’s fascism be- fore his father took an active part in the French resistance. Having left school at the age of eleven to earn a living as a factory worker, then as a radio tech- nician, Max went on educating himself as an autodidact. At the time of the Algerian War, in 1956, he was already leaving the Communist Party, and the next year he passed the agrégation to become a professor of history at Lycée Masséna. Then in 1968 he defended a PhD dissertation on Italian fascist pro- paganda that opened for him the door to a brief academic career as assistant lecturer at the University of Nice. Dabbling in politics and journalism, he became a socialist member of Parliament in 1981, the year when the socialist Union de la Gauche won the presidential election with François Mitterrand: Gallo acquired national notoriety as an official government spokesman. In 1992, he left the Socialist Party to found a center-left divergent current with Jean-Pierre Chevènement, whom he still supported in the 2002 election that saw the defeat of the Socialist Party and the extreme-right leader of the Front National reach the second round of the presidential election, a shocking first since World War II. In 2005, Gallo campaigned for the “No” in the refer- endum on the European Constitution that brought the build-up of political Europe to a halt. In 2007 he had completed his ideological metamorphosis, Moulin, The Year in France 589 and spoke publicly in favor of the right-wing candidate Nicolas Sarkozy, ad- hering with naïve sincerity to the apology for the necessity of the debate on the question of identité nationale. In 2008, Gallo was elected to the Académie française. This thumbnail life sketch is helpful in understanding the ideological meaning of Gallo’s literary commitment, based on the conviction Gallo cap- tured in his La Croix article titled, “La France est dans une crise nationale de longue durée” [France is in an extended period of national crisis]. In an inter- view to the news magazine Le Point, which claims to be a French equivalent of Time magazine, he declared that, contrary to the US, France is a country where the people are not united by an “attachement religieux” (Gallo, “Il suf- fit”), going as far as to say that the French Revolution was “un antimodèle qui pèse encore aujourd’hui” [an antimodel that still weighs on us today], a bloody, unfortunate birth of the Nation that Gallo saw as forever exposing it to “l’irruption de la violence et des barbaries” [an eruption of violence and barbarism]. In a 2002 interview, given to the Catholic news magazine La Vie, which republished this text in July 2017 on the occasion of his death, Gallo declared, “La France a besoin de retrouver ses racines chrétiennes” [France needs to rediscover its Christian roots] (“Pourquoi je prie”). He went on to explain that such had been the meaning of his literary work over the years: “essayer de donner une image la plus complète possible de la diversité de notre histoire nationale” [to attempt to give the most complete image possible of the diversity of our national history]. His multivolume historical novels—Les Chrétiens following Bleu Blanc Rouge and Les patriotes, soon to be followed by Morts pour la France—read like prosopographies, or group biographies, of the most obvious great figures of French history. It is a return to a form of popular historiography, implicitly assuming, like Ralph Waldo Emerson, that “there is properly no history; only biography” (15), turning the page on a few decades of structuralism and the Annales School. There is hardly any differ- ence between Gallo’s fictions, his histories, and his biographies, all address- ing the kind of subjects journalists call marronniers (chestnuts)—Napoléon, De Gaulle, Victor Hugo, Louis XIV, Henri IV, etc.—the last ones he churned out being Henri IV: Un roi français (2016) and Richelieu: La foi dans la France (2017). Gallo’s writing career was a long succession of books celebrating great men, symptomatic of a backward-looking mindset that was a sort of Catholic equivalent of Thomas Carlyle’s On Heroes and Hero Worship (1841). In a mod- ern historical context in which it is a crucial issue in France, as indeed in other countries of the European community, when and whether the Old World will overcome at last its ancestral division between national identities that, in the eyes of many, bear the guilt of past barbarism and present impotence, Gallo’s no doubt well-meaning effort was more simpleminded than well advised. 590 Biography vol. 40, no. 4, Fall 2017 Among the common points between Gallo and Gonzague Saint Bris is the mercenary motivation of their writing: both obviously wrote for money, in the modern heritage of a tradition of commercial paraliterature, a form of what Sainte-Beuve used to call la littérature industrielle and that we might call pulp nonfiction, which is strongly reminiscent of the anas, collections of purple patches, anecdotes, and biographical sketches thriving on the fame of historical figures and celebrities. The generic name comes from the Latin suffix -ana: a popular genre since the late eighteenth century, in which some now-forgotten writers used to specialize, like Charles-Yves Cousin d’Avallon (1769–1840), the prolific author of Voltaireana, Bonapartiana, and so many specimens in the same cultural species. Whereas the nobiliary particle “de” in Cousin d’Avallon’s name was a sham (he was a very plebeian Monsieur Cousin from Avallon), Gonzague Saint Bris was the cadet son of a family of the papal nobility. Much as d’Avallon once used his fake particle as a com- mercial brand, Saint Bris exploited his upper-class origin as a fonds de com- merce, posing as an expert and an admirer of the noblesse, producing in book form an equivalent of Point de vue, Images du monde: Le journal des princes d’aujourd’ hui, a French popular magazine specializing in Almanach de Gotha members. His last book, published posthumously after his sudden death in a car crash in August 2017, sounds like a testament: Aristocrates rebelles. “Ils sont nés avec un nom et des privilèges. Ils ont choisi leur propre destin; la liberté” [They were born with a name and with privileges. They chose their own desti- ny: liberty], says the front-page blurb. This book is a collection of biographical sketches, twenty-three in some three hundred pages, presenting a selection of aristocrats’ lives, from Germaine de Staël to Antoine de Saint Exupéry, from Alphonse de Lamartine to Simone de Beauvoir. Not that Saint Bris made the aristocracy an exclusive specialty: he could rise to the occasion as when, on the death of Michael Jackson, he published Au paradis avec Michael Jackson based on his own encounter and conversations with the pop star, with whom he had spent some time during his 1992 journey in Gabon. Saint Bris was also the tutelary spirit of La Forêt des livres, an annual literary event he had founded in 1995, where writers and other celebrities signed their books and received awards in the country setting of Chanceaux-près-Loire. Max Gallo revising once more the Carlylean cult of Great Men to perpetu- ate the sense of belonging to a national community, Gonzague Saint Bris revis- iting the tradition of the anas in the spirit of popular magazines: looking back on the careers of these two French biographers as their obituaries hit the news, one is bound to think Catherine Peters was right when she said, “the biographer- as-artist is still living in the nineteenth century. It is hard to imagine a nouvelle biographie, analogous to the nouveau roman, in which anonymous characters Moulin, The Year in France 591 moved through a neutral landscape, living out narrative-free existences” (44). However, such an opinion is not devoid of a mild touch of what C. S. Lewis called “chronological snobbery, the uncritical acceptance of the intellectual climate common to our own age and the assumption that whatever has gone out of date is on that account discredited” (207–08). For, in retrospect, the nouveau roman appears as the very ephemeral curiosity. There is no reason why the novel should be the compulsory paradigm of all writing, and to all intents and purposes contemporary fiction is characterized by a return to the narrative and the individual life story. Moreover, “new biography” had preceded the nouveau roman in the history of literature: this early twentieth- century school of biography, of which Lytton Strachey and André Maurois were the paragons in Britain and in France respectively, was characterized by the shorter, fiction-like form of “narrative history” and the predominance of the biographer’s point of view. In very different ways, there is much of new biography in Gonzague Saint Bris, the histrionic maverick of noblesse oblige, and in Max Gallo, the Quixotic white knight of national history. The im- portance of the narrative and the widespread though nonexclusive interest in pre-twentieth-century subjects may also be symptomatic of a present when French culture is striving to overcome its poststructuralist period in the acad- emy, while in literature it has definitely turned its back on the blind alley of the nouveau roman. Remarkably, the Prix Goncourt de la Biographie, after having rewarded Philippe Forest for Aragon in 2016, was awarded in 2017 to Marianne and Claude Schopp for their brainchild, Dumas fils ou l’Anti-Œdipe. It is the first- ever biography of Alexandre Dumas fils, the author of La Dame aux Camélias, who was even more famous than his father in his own lifetime, although pos- terity has elected Alexandre Dumas père, the prolific author of Les Trois Mous- quetaires among many other historical novels and biographies. Rather than in Gallo’s marronniers, we seem to be more interested in forgotten or rebel fig- ures. For instance, Paul Gauguin, the post-impressionist painter, fascinates us precisely because he scandalously rejected stuffy metropolitan values of nine- teenth-century France. David Haziot’s Gauguin is one of several biographies of the painter that came out in fall 2017, while the biopic of his years in exile by Edouard Deluc, Paul Gauguin, Voyage à Tahiti, where the painter is played by Vincent Cassel, came out in September 2017. A new edition of Noa Noa, Gauguin’s autobiographical narrative of his first journey in Tahiti, is published in a pocketbook collection with a preface by Victor Segalen (1878–1919), the eccentric Breton doctor, novelist, poet, ethnographer, sinologist, and arche- ologist. It is easy to miss the connection with Jean-Luc Coatalem’s Mes Pas vont ailleurs: half-novel, half-biography, where Coatelem addresses Segalen, 592 Biography vol. 40, no. 4, Fall 2017 his wandering life, and his multifaceted works in a digressive text, constantly transgressing chronology and demonstrating the modernist potentialities of biographical writing in a style reminiscent of A. J. A. Symons’s in The Quest for Corvo (1934) and of American biographer David E. Nye’s anti-biography of Thomas Edison, The Invented Self (1983). On blogs, modern readers com- plain that the writing is confusing and boring to read. No doubt that is a sign of the times. The year 2017 saw a momentous election in France, and there is a clear public feeling that this presidential campaign and its outcome has turned an important page in our roman national, insofar as it has greatly changed the political landscape. Biographical writing in the largest sense of the term has played an important part in this transformation. Gérard Davet and Fabrice Lhomme’s “Un président ne devrait pas dire ça . . .” can be viewed as a form of instant life writing, in which President Hollande authorized two journal- ists to publish his confidences. The book was judged so scandalously incom- patible with the dignity and secrecy demanded of the office of the president that it has played an important part in Hollande’s decision not to run for a second term. Some observers went as far as to say that it may have been a form of political suicide. In fall 2016, Gallimard had published two post- humous texts by Hollande’s role model, François Mitterrand (1916–1996): Journal pour Anne and Lettres à Anne, containing details about the President’s half-secret double life with Anne Pingeot, but these were posthumous works. Scarcely had the campaign been launched when, in January 2017, the satirical paper Le Canard enchaîné made revelations about the past life of Hollande’s runner up, the Republican François Fillon, that were tantamount to political assassination. On the seasonal market created by the electoral campaign, ev- ery candidate was the object of more or less authorized biographical attempts. Standing out from the usual run of the mill, one could notice in particular Francis Métivier’s Mythologie des Présidentiables, a collection of five very short e-books—which can certainly not be suspected of mercenary intentions, as the batch cost only five euros—that purported brief sketches of the mythical images that the candidates projected of themselves. Much more substantial, albeit not more expensive in terms of cost per page, Renaud Dely’s La Vraie Marine Le Pen: Une bobo chez les fachos undertook a systematic deconstruc- tion of the public image of the woman leader of the extreme-right National Front, who had never been so close to a potential win. One way or another, never more clearly than this year has biography and autobiography been put to use in the run for the presidency. Some biographies of Emmanuel Macron, like Anne Fulda’s, or Caroline Derrien and Candice Nedelec’s portrait of the future presidential couple, Les Macron, amounted to apologies under a thin Moulin, The Year in France 593 veneer of critical distance. More remarkably still, Macron himself produced two autobiographical books: Macron par Macron in late 2016 and Révolution in early 2017 that did much to help sell his character to the electorate. With Max Gallo and Gonzague Saint Bris an outmoded style of biogra- phy is dying away in this country, while the genre discreetly plays a central role in the cultural life of the nation. Away from the conventional old ches- nuts, Dominique Bona, the most recently elected woman member of the Aca- démie française (2013) has produced a remarkable text, Colette et les siennes, as part of her vindication of the cause of women, while the historian Georgette Elgey has published her autobiography, Toutes fenêtres ouvertes. This self-nar- rative of a French intellectual resonates with the renewed interest of the acade- my in égo-histoire—a concept derived by Pierre Nora in 1987 from the notion of “ego-document” coined by Dutch historian Jacques Presser in the mid- 1950s—and more particularly the égo-histoires of modern historians, which are the objects of research of the Réseau Historiographie et Épistémologie de l’Histoire funded by the Agence Nationale de la Recherche. On the whole, it seems at times that nearly every new book has some biographical or auto- biographical dimension, while in French cinema le biopic flourishes: among many other examples, Michel Hazanavius’s latest film, Le Redoutable, a par- tial biopic of Jean-Luc Godard’s married life with Anne Wiazemsky, is any- thing but a hagiography of “le plus con des Suisses pro-Chinois” [the daftest pro-Chinese Swiss], as a graffiti on a wall of the Sorbonne labeled the Mao- ist film-maker in 1968. This brief chronicle cannot hope to do justice to the wealth of biographical productions in France this year, but it seems clear that biography in the larger sense has become a center-stage genre in French cul- tural and intellectual life. Its innovative potential is still inchoate, but the odds are that it will not take the forms of what the last century called modern. works cited Bona, Dominique. Colette et les siennes. Grasset, 2017. Carlyle, Thomas. On Heroes and Hero-Worship: The Heroic in History. 1841. Edited by Annie Russell Marble, Macmillan, 1905. Carnet du réseau historiographie et épistémologie de l’histoire. N.d., https://crheh.hypotheses. org/tag/ego-histoire. Accessed 28 Sept. 2017. Cousin d’Avallon, Charles-Yves. Voltairiana, ou Recueil des bons mots, plaisanteries, pensées ingénieuses et saillies spirituelles de Voltaire; suivi des Anecdotes peu connues relatives à ce philosophe et poète célèbre. 1799. http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k864303.pdf. Ac- cessed 28 Sept. 2017. 594 Biography vol. 40, no. 4, Fall 2017 Cousin d’Avallon, Charles-Yves, editor. Bonapartiana, ou Recueil choisi d’anecdotes, de traits sublimes, de bons mots, de saillies, de pensées ingénieuses, de réflexions profondes de Napoléon Bonaparte, avec un aperçu des actions les plus belles et les plus éclatantes de sa vie. Paris, 1833. Davet, Gerard, and Fabrice Lhomme. “Un président ne devrait pas dire ça . . .”: Les secrets d’un quinquennat. Points, 2017. Dely, Renaud. La Vraie Marine Le Pen: Une bobo chez les fachos. Plon, 2017. Derrien, Caroline, and Candice Nedelec. Les Macron. Fayard, 2017. Elgey, Georgette. Toutes fenêtres ouvertes. Fayard, 2017. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “History.” Essays: First and Second Series. New York, 1883, pp. 7–44. Fulda, Anne. Emmanuel Macron: Un jeune homme si parfait. Plon, 2017. Gallo, Max. Bleu Blanc Rouge. XO, 2000. ———. Les Chrétiens. Fayard, 2002. 3 vols. ———. De Gaulle. Robert Laffont, 1998. 4 vols. ———. “La France est dans une crise nationale de longue durée.” La Croix, 31 Dec. 2010, https://www.la-croix.com/Archives/2010-12-31/Max-Gallo-historien-membre-de-l- Academie-francaise.-La-France-traverse-une-crise-nationale-de-longue-duree-_NP_- 2010-12-31-393201. Accessed 28 Sept. 2017. ———. Henri IV. XO, 2016. ———. Louis XIV. XO, 2007. ———. Morts pour la France. Fayard, 2003. ———. Napoléon. Robert Laffont, 1997. 4 vols. ———. Les Patriotes. Fayard, 2000. ———. “Pourquoi je prie.” La Vie, 19 July 2017, http://www.lavie.fr/actualite/societe/max- gallo-pourquoi-je-prie-19-07-2017-83756_7.php. Accessed 28 Sept. 2017. ———. Richelieu: La foi dans la France. XO, 2015. ———. “Il suffit de quelques jours pour que la barbarie rejaillisse.” Le Point, 25 Feb. 2009, http://www.lepoint.fr/actualites-politique/2009-02-25/interview-max-gallo-il-suffit-de- quelques-jours-pour-que-la/917/0/320453. Accessed 28 Sept. 2017. ———. Victor Hugo. XO, 2001. 2 vols. Gauguin, Paul. Noa Noa. 1901. Bartillat, 2017. Haziot, David. Gauguin. Fayard, 2017. Lewis, C. S. Surprised by Joy: The Shape of My Early Life. Harcourt, Brace & World, 1955. Macron, Emmanuel. Révolution. XO, 2016. Macron, Emmanuel, and Eric Fottorino. Macron par Macron. Éditions de l’Aube, 2017. Métivier, Francis. Mythologie des Présidentiables. Pygmalion, 2017. Mitterrand, François. Journal pour Anne: 1964–1970. Gallimard, 2016. ———. Lettres à Anne: 1962–1995. Gallimard, 2016. Nora, Pierre. Essais d’égo-histoire. Gallimard, 1987. Nye, David E. The Invented Self: An Anti-biography, from the Documents of Thomas A. Edison. Odense UP, 1983. Moulin, The Year in France 595 Peters, Catherine. “Secondary Lives: Biography in Context.” The Art of Literary Biography, edited by John Batchelor, Clarendon Press, 1995, pp. 43–56. Saint Bris, Gonzague. Aristocrates Rebelles. Éditions des Arènes, 2017. ———. Au paradis avec Michael Jackson. Presses de la Cité, 2010. Sainte-Beuve, Charles-Augustin. “La Littérature industrielle.” 1839. https://fr.wikisource. org/wiki/La_Littérature_industrielle. Accessed 28 Sept. 2017. Symons, A. J. A. The Quest for Corvo: An Experiment in Biography. 1934. Penguin, 1950. 
work_4o72uig7jfabbij3eobdcwqsdm	----	BA330311.pdf www.biosciencemag.org July 2011 / Vol. 61 No. 7 567 Books if the focus on the shack and the lab reveals true similarities, or if it is a device that pulls together the mythol- ogy surrounding each man, perhaps obscuring or ignoring the divergent lives they led. After all, Leopold’s shack and Ricketts’s lab were different in purpose, origin, and use. Whereas the lab served to process marine specimens for sale to students and researchers, the shack was a family retreat, where solitude and physical work restored the forests that had been lost to the saw and plow. Ricketts’s lab was a gathering spot for authors and artists (frequent guests included John Stein- beck and Joseph Campbell), whereas Leopold’s shack was a quiet refuge for family and, at times, a few close friends and students. And whereas the lab was a rented building squeezed between a sardine cannery and busy railroad tracks, the shack was in the boondocks, surrounded in Leopold’s day by exhausted farmlands that were an unlikely destination for naturalists or tourists. Similarly, the two men’s person- alities seem equally disparate: Rick- etts, loud and boisterous, provided a meeting place for the unconventional intellectuals who sought freedom in the freewheeling California of the early twentieth century. If Ricketts provided refuge and inspiration for their great works, it was through the unvarnished life he shared with them, which included field excur- sions to Mexico and Alaska, as well as many days in California tide pools and festive evenings in the lab. Leo- pold, the quiet professor, spent most of his time at the shack with his children and students—planting trees, making detailed natural his- tory observations, cleaning, fixing, and restoring, while cementing the personal bonds that come with hard work. Seen in this light, Ricketts and Leopold are a dynamic duo, yin-and-yang voices that together transformed natural history into environmental science and made the leap from insular and specialized disciplines to a new field with sweep- ing societal relevance. most closely identified with their lives and insights: Leopold’s shack in the Wisconsin Sandhills and Rick- etts’s waterfront lab on Monterey Bay. By weaving their stories together around these unassuming buildings, Lannoo manages to create a connec- tion in the mind of the reader, a con- nection that did not exist between these men, who never met. By forg- ing this link, the author integrates the terrestrial and the marine, the introversion of the researcher with the wanderlust of the naturalist, the discipline of science and the passion of activism. By tying these men to the modest structures where their most sweeping ideas came to life, Lannoo makes a connection that is both unexpected and insightful. And although their private lives could hardly have been more different, their impact on society is conver- gent and complementary. From the reader’s perspective, the author’s appreciation of both the men and their contributions is inspiring. Leopold’s Shack and Ricketts’s Lab is a short and entertaining read, a book that fans of both Leopold and Ricketts will appreciate. Each reader is likely to recognize one character and be introduced to the other. The reverence I hold for the shack and the ideas that flowed from it gave me entry to Rick- etts’s life, through his lab, and I expect the reverse will be true for other read- ers. Yet one cannot help but wonder its historic and contemporary impor- tance to human society, and how and why plant organisms will continue to evolve novel compounds in a process that is both dynamic and ongoing. MICHAEL J. BALICK Michael J. Balick (mbalick@nybg.org) is vice president for botanical science, director, and philecology curator of the Institute of Economic Botany at The New York Botanical Garden, Bronx, New York. TWO “DESTINED HUMAN DELIVERERS” OF ENVIRONMENTAL SCIENCE Leopold’s Shack and Ricketts’s Lab: The Emergence of Environmental- ism. Michael J. Lannoo. University of California Press, 2010. 216 pp., illus. $24.95 (ISBN 9780520264786 cloth). Aldo Leopold, forester and wild-life biologist, and Ed Ricketts, marine biologist, were two early twentieth-century naturalists whose works have reverberated across the decades and influenced a genera- tion of environmental scientists and activists. Through intense observa- tion and uncommonly clear writ- ing, both men were able to develop and articulate an understanding of nature that linked the appetites of a rapidly industrializing nation to the vulnerability of its environment, long before the Earth Day awakening and the polarizing politics that consume current science and policy debates. If every discipline has its heroes, Leopold and Ricketts are two of the rock stars of environmental studies. With Leopold’s Shack and Ricketts’s Lab: The Emergence of Environmen- talism, Michael Lannoo has crafted a book designed to pull these two larger-than-life figures into focus, and he does so by linking their very different personalities to the places doi:10.1525/bio.2011.61.7.12 Ricketts and Leopold are a dynamic duo, yin-and-yang voices that together trans- formed natural history into environmental science and made the leap from insular and specialized disciplines to a new field with sweeping soci- etal relevance. Books 568 July 2011 / Vol. 61 No. 7 www.biosciencemag.org The central idea that emerges from this interesting volume is the sense that these men led complimentary lives. Together, they express what was then an emerging, uniquely Ameri- can form of environmental aware- ness that still defines a distinctive philosophical direction. A century earlier, a different pairing of intel- lects and personalities collided to define a prior movement in literature and philosophy. Ralph Waldo Emer- son, the renowned poet, and Henry David Thoreau, the anarchic natu- ralist, followed shared insights but contrasting lifestyles that, together, embodied the Transcendentalist movement. This creation articulated an intellectual foundation on which science and nature would be united to confront the future that Thoreau predicted and that Ricketts and Leo- pold encountered in their twentieth- century lives. Without putting too fine a point on it, Lannoo invites us to see the subjects of his book as two lives intertwined in an effort to articulate a modern environmental ethic grounded in empiricism and committed to action—action to save nature from the unwitting march of a society utterly unaware of its destructiveness and its dependency on the natural world. The subtitle of this book—The Emergence of Environmentalism—is somewhat misleading. The emergence of environmentalism is not addressed directly, nor are these men’s roles in fostering it explored in any depth. Instead, we get a sense of the resonance of environmental science as a rigor- ous intellectual pursuit, grounded in method, informed by observation, and leavened with an awareness of its rel- evance to society. Lannoo writes that “the discipline of ecology, as understood by both men, could not be neatly categorized into more traditional academic fields.” Through the interdisciplinary nature of their inquiry, something new and critically important was discovered and carefully communicated to the rest of us. Emerson wrote about how knowledge and nature are “still hid and expectant... as if each waited... for a destined human deliverer.” Lannoo’s homage to Leopold and Ricketts is a convincing claim that the two men, drawing on creativity and social con- science, were so diligent in their com- mitment to natural history that they uncovered a set of vital truths for those who came after. THOMAS D. SISK Thomas D. Sisk (thomas.sisk@nau. edu) is a professor of ecology in Northern Arizona University’s School of Earth Sci- ences and Environmental Sustainability, in Flagstaff. MAKING SENSE OF REMOTELY SENSING VEGETATION Remote Sensing of Vegetation: Prin- ciples, Techniques, and Applica- tions. Hamlyn G. Jones and Robin A. Vaughan. Oxford University Press, 2010. 400 pp., illus. $55.00 (ISBN 9780199207794 paper). An ever-expanding constellation of Earth-observing sensors provides us with a virtual tsunami of data, much of it now freely available. But chan- neling this digital torrent into useful information about the vegetated land surfaces requires a skillful blending of radiation physics, image processing, their work has enjoyed with those who discovered their writings long after the authors were gone. That subsequent generation, those born into the era of environmental crises, read Leopold’s Sand County Almanac and Ricketts’s Between Pacific Tides with wonder, impressed that the authors had such clear thoughts about such important ideas, and that they were able to write about them so artfully that these titles continue to speak today with compel- ling voices. Yet there are others who more fully capture the activist roots of the environmental movement; per- haps most prominent among them is Rachel Carson, who galvanized the nation around the decline of nature with the publication of Silent Spring in 1962. In that context, Leopold, Ricketts, and the Transcendentalists before them were rediscovered and embraced by a new generation, one that gave rise to the great environ- mental leaders of the late twentieth century. The emergence of the envi- ronmental movement has changed the world, but with almost seven billion humans now (three times the popula- tion of the world when Leopold and Ricketts were writing), the planet is changing even faster and, thus far, not in a manner that would give either man much cheer. Can their words inspire the next generation as it has the past two, and will the emergence of environmental- ism contribute to the adoption of the ethical stance on conservation that emerges from their fusion of natu- ral history and philosophy? Lannoo points in this direction, saying in the book, “Leopold shows us what to do, Ricketts shows us how to do it.” But he takes a different path to the book’s conclusion, stepping out of the flow of environmentalism and into the field that his two subjects shared without question: natural history. By recount- ing their decades of detailed observa- tions and the depth of their insights, as well as their love of being in the field and experiencing nature directly, Lan- noo highlights not so much the emer- gence of environmentalism as a social movement, but rather the emergence doi:10.1525/bio.2011.61.7.13 
work_4qswkhkwxje65nz5ds3xllnw6a	----	Collections: Art and Adventure in Nineteenth-Century California | California History | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 86, Issue 4 January 2009 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| January 01 2009 Collections: Art and Adventure in Nineteenth-Century California Amy Scott Amy Scott Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar California History (2009) 86 (4): 14–82. https://doi.org/10.2307/40495231 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Amy Scott; Collections: Art and Adventure in Nineteenth-Century California. California History 1 January 2009; 86 (4): 14–82. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/40495231 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search This content is only available via PDF. Copyright 2009 California Historical Society Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content. Sign in Don't already have an account? Register Client Account You could not be signed in. Please check your email address / username and password and try again. Email address / Username ? Password Sign In Reset password Register Sign in via your Institution Sign in via your Institution Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Mexican American Parrhesia at Troy: The Rise of the Chicana/o Movement at the University of Southern California, 1967–1974 Breaking the Eleventh Commandment: Pete McCloskey’s Campaign against the Vietnam War Fishing on Porpoise: The Origins of Dolphin Bycatch in the American Yellowfin Tuna Industry Keepers of the Culture at 3201 Adeline Street: Locating Black Power Theater in Berkeley, California Suburban Cowboy: Country Music, Punk, and the Struggle over Space in Orange County, 1978–1981 Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Online ISSN 2327-1485 Print ISSN 0162-2897 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
work_4tgwco4oqvchdiaw6ldxx35ioq	----	Nile tensions Let researchers finish their work on the impacts of Africa’s largest hydropower dam. Scientists investigating the hydrology of the Nile are likely to have heard the story of their tenth-century predecessor, mathema-tician and physicist Ibn al-Haytham. The ruler of Egypt asked al-Haytham to dam the river, but it proved too great an engineer- ing challenge. Fearing the caliph’s wrath, al-Haytham is said to have feigned illness to avoid being punished. Thankfully, the scientists currently advising Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan on the Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam do not face anything like the same risks. But they are nevertheless under pressure as talks between the three countries — and especially between Egypt and Ethiopia — have hit an impasse (see page 159). Ethiopia says the hydropower dam is needed urgently, because two-thirds of the country has lacked electricity for too long. Egypt is in less of a hurry. Ninety per cent of its fresh water comes from the Nile, and it is concerned that the dam will create water scarcity for its 100 million inhabitants over the five to seven years needed to fill the dam’s reservoir. Last week, Egypt decided that it wants another country to mediate the dispute — naming the United States as its preferred choice. Ethiopia rejects this proposal. This is an unfortunate turn of events. There might well be a need for mediation, but now is too soon. The countries are still waiting for the outcome of an independ- ent scientific assessment of the dam’s risks to downstream countries. In 2015, Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan agreed that an expert panel, the National Independent Scientific Research Group (NISRG), would assess the environmental impacts of each country’s preferred timetable for constructing the dam. The group has been meeting regularly and is preparing to produce a consensus report and provide recommenda- tions. But Egypt’s decision to call for mediation before the scientists have had a chance to report puts the NISRG in an awkward position: the researchers representing Egypt, especially, might feel pressure not to write or say anything that could undermine their government’s negotiating position. Instead of rushing straight into mediation, the countries should let their scientific advisers complete the task that has been asked of them. The researchers should be allowed to publish their findings for scrutiny by everyone concerned, not least the citizens of the three countries, who will be most affected by the dam. International involvement might be needed if the scientific advisers are unable to produce a consensus report, or if, once the findings are published, political leaders are unwilling or unable to shift their positions. But until then, Egypt, Ethiopia and Sudan need to let the researchers finish the job they have been asked to do. ■ Gandhi on science The champion of India’s freedom movement was a supporter of sustainable development. India’s tourist shops do a good trade in Gandhi memorabilia. One particularly popular souvenir is a plaque that lists Mohandas Karamchand (Mahatma) Gandhi’s ‘seven social sins’. These include ‘politics without principles’, ‘commerce without morality’ and ‘science without humanity’. During his lifetime and after his assassination in January 1948, Gandhi, the human-rights barrister turned freedom campaigner, has been mischaracterized as anti-science — often because of his concerns over the human and environmental impacts of industrial technologies. But in the month that the world commemorates the 150th anni- versary of Gandhi’s birth, it is time to revisit our understanding of this aspect of his life and work. Gandhi was a keen student of the art of experimentation — his autobiography is subtitled ‘The Story of My Experiments with Truth’. He was an enthusiastic inventor and an assiduous innovator, making, discarding and refining snake-catching tools, sandals made from used tyres, and methods for rural sanitation, not to mention the small cotton-spinning wheels that would become his trademark. Anil Gupta at the Indian Institute of Management in Ahmedabad, who has researched rural innovation in India for 40 years, says that Gandhi was also an early adopter of developing and improving tech- nologies using crowd-sourcing — in 1929 he announced a competition, with a cash prize, to design a lightweight spinning wheel that could produce thread from raw cotton. It would be of solid build quality that would last for 20 years. “Gandhi was an engineer at heart,” adds Anil Rajvanshi, director of the Nimbkar Agricultural Research Institute in Phaltan, India. Gandhi adopted experimental methods equally in his planning and execution of civil-disobedience campaigns against colonial rule. That legacy alone has endured to the extent that climate-change protest groups such as Extinction Rebellion describe themselves as following in a Gandhian tradition. Gandhi drew the line at the resource-intensive, industrial-scale engineering that Britain brought to India after the first waves of the Industrial Revolution. Inspired in part by the writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, John Ruskin, Henry David Thoreau and Leo Tolstoy, he called for manufacturing on a more human scale, in which decisions about technologies rested with workers and communities. Gandhi was aware that he was perceived as being anti-science. His biographer Ramachandra Guha quotes a 1925 speech to college students in Trivandrum (now Thiruvananthapuram) in southern India, in which Gandhi said that this misconception was a “com- mon superstition”. In the same address, he said that “we cannot live without science”, but urged a form of accountability: “In my humble opinion there are limitations even to scientific search, and the limitations that I place upon sci- entific search are the limitations that humanity imposes upon us.” Gandhi understood that technology’s negative impacts are often felt disproportionately by low- income rural populations. In that same speech to the Trivandrum students, he challenged his young audience to think of these communities in their work. “Unfortunately, we, who learn in colleges, forget that India lives in her villages and not in her towns. How will you infect the people of the villages with your scientific knowledge?” he asked them. In the end, Gandhi’s call for less-harmful technologies was out of sync with India’s newly independent leadership, and also went against the grain of post-Second World War science and technology policy- making in most countries. India’s first prime minister, Jawaharlal Nehru, was strongly influenced by European industrial technology and also by the model of large publicly funded laboratories — the forerunners to today’s vibrant and globally renowned institutes of sci- ence and technology. By contrast, Gandhi’s ideas were seen as quaint and impractical. Influential figures from history often leave contested legacies. But in one respect at least, the space for debate about Gandhi’s life and impact has narrowed. As the world continues to grapple with how to respond to climate change, biodiversity loss, persistent poverty, and poor health and nutrition, Gandhi’s commitment to what we now call sustainability is perhaps more relevant today than in his own time. ■ “He was an enthusiastic inventor and an assiduous innovator.” 1 5 0 | N A T U R E | V O L 5 7 4 | 1 0 O C T O B E R 2 0 1 9 EDITORIALSTHIS WEEK © 2019 Springer Nature Limited. All rights reserved. 
work_4tm5wymluzbczenhnzqb5njhga	----	Cultural Intertexts Year 2 Vol. 3 2015 48 Alasdair Gray’s Lanark as an Act of Literary Resistance Markéta GREGOROVÁ* Abstract This paper examines the sheer variety of creative roles that the contemporary Scottish iconoclastic writer Alasdair Gray assumes in his works of fiction, discussing the external manifestations of his multifaceted talents in action as well as considering the conveyed effect. Widely regarded as the leading figure of the 1980s Scottish literary renaissance and the founding father of Scottish postmodern fiction, Gray emerged as a major creative artist with the publication of his influential novel Lanark: A Life in Four Books (1981), which epitomises his experimental approach to literary production and consumption. Gray figures in Lanark not only as the author of the text and the creator of the accompanying original illustrations, he also makes a cameo appearance as the morose and mean writer of the work-in-progress, who engages in an intellectual discussion with his protagonist concerning the plot of the very novel. Under the alias of Sidney Workman, Gray also fulfils the task of the literary critic in annotating the metafictional chapter of Lanark with discursive footnotes and embedding in it an index of earlier authors and texts that have been supposedly plagiarised in the novel under scrutiny. Gray succeeds in utilising the characteristically protean quality of the postmodern age for aesthetic purposes of his own making, challenging by the means of the mutually reinforcing form and content of his work our assumptions about the world as we know it. Keywords: Scottish literature; metafiction; postmodernism Even though Alasdair Gray expressed his discomfort about being reduced to limiting labels, it has become a critical commonplace to introduce him as a pioneering Scottish postmodern writer. His novelistic masterpiece, Lanark: A Life in Four Books (1981), significantly contributed to galvanising the 1980s Scottish literary renaissance, from which there emerged a host of innovative authors soon to achieve international reputation. Alasdair Gray qualifies as a true polymath: he has tried his hand at a range of literary genres and forms, furnished all his books with his own unmistakably original design and decorations and also painted vast murals commissioned for several public sites in his native Glasgow. Ever since his outstanding literary debut with Lanark, Gray has been confirming his position as an incorrigible iconoclast keen on startling his readers and critics out of their asinine complacency. Gray likes to take control over all aspects of the book production process, including tasks that writers do not often deem necessarily integral to their work and leave to other professionals in the trade, such as illustrations, front and back matter and typesetting of the book. This comprehensive approach based on Gray’s versatility enables him to appeal to the * Mgr., Palacký University Olomouc, Czech Republic marketagreg@gmail.com Cultural Intertexts Year 2 Vol. 3 2015 49 audience on multiple mutually reinforcing levels and to convey a message of extraordinary coherence and strength. Gray’s groundbreaking Lanark is a flamboyant exercise in the postmodern literary technique and at the same time a sympathetic exploration of flawed humanity. This voluminous novel of epic resonance comprises four books arranged out of their chronological sequence because, as the author suggests, he wanted the entire book “to be read in one order but eventually thought of in another” (Gray 2007: 483). Two main story lines are being developed, on the first impression seemingly unrelated, yet on closer observation ingeniously interlocked. One story involves a deeply troubled teenager, Duncan Thaw, obsessively pursuing a fulfilment of his artistic vision in a realistic setting of post- World War II Glasgow. Frustrated in his efforts, Thaw takes his own life only to be reincarnated as Lanark, the protagonist of the other story, which is set in the dystopian city of Unthank and follows Lanark’s symbolically endowed search for sunlight. The plot does not evolve in a linear fashion and is further complicated by additional framing devices, stories within stories and metafictional digressions. Beat Witschi (1991: 85) points out that in contriving such a multi-layered narrative, “Gray raises questions about the hierarchy and mode of existence of his various worlds. . . Thus it is virtually impossible for the reader . . . to decide who speaks about whom?, and when?, in which world?, and with what authority?” Undermining the notions of hierarchy and authority on the level of form emphasises the implications of the book on the level of content, which is where a strong distrust of official discourse and externally imposed authority are conveyed. Gray’s work, however, neither champions individualism, nor does it celebrate anarchy, quite the contrary, it embraces humanistic ideals and envisions a cooperative society that would balance the demands of the community and the desires of the individual. Gray speaks about “a sense of justice”, which he believes is impeded by “institutional dogma and criteria”. Institutions “have been made by people for the good of people,” Gray contends, “but when we see them working to increase dirt, poverty, pain, and death, then they have obviously gone wrong” (Axelrod 1995: 108). Alasdair Gray does not presume to offer practical solutions for rectifying social wrongs, yet his art wholeheartedly supports what David Couzens Hoy (2005: 2) terms “critical resistance” and specifies “as the emancipatory resistance to domination”. Hoy (2005: 6–8) discusses three forms of resistance—political, social and ethical—while maintaining that resistance does not necessarily imply clear goals and ideological programmes and that any active acknowledgement of one’s unfreedom ultimately qualifies as an act of resistance. Considering Alasdair Gray’s critical attitude to institutional hegemony manifested in his work, another form of active criticism could be added to Hoy’s taxonomy: literary resistance. Literary resistance in a broad sense seems to be the default mode of Gray’s writing and shows on the interwoven levels of form and subject matter as well as in small details, such as Gray’s assuming the roles of the illustrator and typesetter besides that of the author of his work. Cultural Intertexts Year 2 Vol. 3 2015 50 A sense of literary self-consciousness pervades much of Lanark but becomes particularly relevant in the epilogue, which, contrary to conventional expectations, happens to be inserted about three quarters throughout the book rather than at its end. Here the protagonist confronts his author in an uneasy conversation revolving around the protagonist’s preference as to the ending of his story, which proves to be irreconcilable with his author’s aesthetic intentions. The “conjuror”, as the author figure calls himself, flatly announces that he “plans to kill everyone” and proceeds to elaborate on his perceptions, “display erudition” and “utter some fine sentiments” (Gray 2007: 483–496). The conjuror as presented in the epilogue parodies the traditional concept of an omnipotent author who speaks through an omniscient narrator, a technique which has now been rendered obsolete. Lanark’s author admits that he no longer puts himself on par with God with respect to the power that he can exercise over his characters and shows genuine surprise at certain details in his character’s life of which he claims no knowledge. A paradoxical situation ensues when the conjuror interrogates his protagonist to learn about the portions of Lanark’s story which he has not yet written, for he is working on the epilogue as he speaks with Lanark, and the manuscript of the novel is still incomplete. The epilogue of Lanark brilliantly exemplifies the major points of Roland Barthes’s (1977: 148) influential essay “The Death of the Author”, which turns on the proposition that the power and privilege formerly enjoyed by the author ought to be ceded to the reader in the interest of literature. Barthes (1977: 145) denies to the contemporary author any existence beyond the text: “the modern scriptor,” he suggests, “is born simultaneously with the text . . . and every text is eternally written here and now”. Hence, the knowledge and perspective of Lanark’s creator is as limited as that of Lanark himself, and by implication, Lanark’s author comes to be stripped of any pretensions on creating the traditional grand narrative, for he has no complete vision, no coherent worldview to pass on to posterity. Accordingly, Barthes (1977: 146) asserts that “a text is not a line of words releasing a single ‘theological’ meaning (the ‘message’ of the Author–God) but a multi- dimensional space in which a variety of writings, none of them original, blend and crash”. He further elaborates: Literature (it would be better from now on to say writing) by refusing to assign a “secret”, an ultimate meaning, to the text (and to the world as text), liberates what may be called an anti-theological activity, an activity that is truly revolutionary since to refuse to fix meaning is, in the end, to refuse God and his hypostases— reason, science, law (Barthes 1977: 147). In the absence of the grand narrative and a single authoritative voice, a significant share of responsibility in the process of making the novel shifts to the reader, who is encouraged to critical thinking rather than merely following and enacting the wor(l)d of the Author–God. Besides writing himself into the epilogue in the persona of the conjuror, Gray incorporates in Lanark a substantial and elaborate body of seemingly serious Cultural Intertexts Year 2 Vol. 3 2015 51 scholarly criticism of the novel in progress. It consists of a battery of discursive footnotes and extended marginalia in the form of an “Index of Plagiarisms”, where three distinct types of supposed “literary theft” occurring in the novel are defined and the original authors are alphabetically listed (Gray 2007: 485). On closer examination, the device turns out at least in part tongue-in-cheek. Among plausible pieces of critique, there appears for instance the note: “This remark is too ludicrous to require comment here”; and in the plagiarism index there is the entry: “EMERSON, RALPH WALDO. Ralph Waldo Emerson has not been plagiarised” (Gray 2007: 488–492). The epilogue ends anticlimactically with one last footnote containing Gray’s (2007: 499) acknowledgements of those who assisted in various ways with the production of the book, including the typesetters at Kingsport Press of Kingsport, Tennessee. Given the notorious unreliability of Gray’s narrators, it does not surprise that Lanark does not conclude in universal carnage, as the conjurer conceived it would, but on a more hopeful note. Lanark does learn that he will die the next day, yet he forgets about it immediately and concludes the book in peaceful tranquillity, simply “glad to see the light in the sky” (Gray 2007: 560). In the epilogue and elsewhere, Gray’s idiosyncratic style involves occasional comic relief, with the author using anarchic humour as yet another form of literary resistance against the dominant discourse, while his characters engage in what Hoy categorises as political, social and ethical modes of resistance. Lanark’s major act of political resistance consists in his effort to thwart fictional world powers from closing a destructive pact, and although he fails to do this, by attempting it at least he accomplishes an action of outstanding human value. Lanark does not view himself as a heroic figure, and neither does the narrator, who bluntly describes him as “a slightly worried, ordinary old man”, but it is precisely this lack of heroic mood that renders Lanark’s achievement significant (Gray 2007: 560). Hoy (2005: 7) delineates one particular form of social resistance as “opposition to the ways that institutions shape individuals”, which covers a substantial part of the story of Lanark’s alter ego, Duncan Thaw. Thaw struggles with the institutional restraints of the art college that he attends on a bursary and that he despises for wasting his admitted talent on unambitious examination tasks focused on commercial design. After being dismissed from the college without degree, Thaw comes into conflict with institutionalised religion, whose representatives do not welcome Thaw’s boldly original interpretation of the Creation painted by him in a church mural. “The paradigm for ethical resistance is such that ethical resistance will inevitably fail,” Hoy (2005: 8) echoes Derrida and adds, “the ultimate resistance is in the face of death”. Ethical resistance applies to both Lanark and Thaw but is best illustrated in Lanark’s response to the news of his impending demise in the conclusion of the novel: he ignores the message, thus asserting his ethical superiority over death. More than three decades after it was first published, Lanark does not cease to delight, challenge and critically resist, in the sense that Hoy ascribes to the phrase: Cultural Intertexts Year 2 Vol. 3 2015 52 Resistance is both an activity and an attitude. It is the activity of refusal. It is also an attitude that refuses to give in to resignation. . . . Unlike resignation, resistance can lead to hope—that is, to an openness to the indefinite possibility that things could be different, even if one does not know exactly how (Hoy 2005: 9–10). Lanark concludes in a characteristically postmodern open-endedness but on a hopeful note, which is, in the last analysis, enabled exactly by the novel’s lack of binding ending. Alasdair Gray utilises the uncertainties characteristic of the postmodern era and encourages a re-thinking and re-evaluation of seemingly stable concepts such as truth, reality and authority. Admittedly, none of the experimental techniques that he employs in his writing constitute innovations in themselves. Gray’s creative uniqueness lies rather in an eclectic synthesis of pre- existing elements and their clever appropriation to purposes and ends solely of his own making. The landscape of his fiction is marked by metafictional diversions, multiple narrative layers and typographical eccentricities, but permanently underlying there is humour, compassion and a deep commitment to humanity. Ultimately, his writing enacts his often-repeated maxim promoting ethical resistance and fostering hope, which has been engraved among other notable quotations in the new building of the Scottish Parliament opened in 2004: “Work as if you live in the early days of a better nation.” References Axelrod, M. (1995) “An Epistolary Interview, Mostly with Alasdair Gray”. Review of Contemporary Fiction 15 (2), 1995, 106–115 Barthes, R. (1977) “The Death of the Author”. in Heath, S. (ed.) Image, Music, Text. London: Fontana Press, 142–148 Gray, A. (2007) Lanark: A Life in Four Books. Edinburgh: Canongate Hoy, D. C. (2005) Critical Resistance: From Poststructuralism to Post-critique. Cambridge: MIT Press Witschi, B. (1991) Glasgow Urban Writing and Postmodernism: A Study of Alasdair Gray’s Fiction. Frankfurt: Lang 
work_4untdx4cy5gjnnj3molkdfseqq	----	Aesthetic Specialists and Public Intellectuals: Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporary Professionalism Günter Leypoldt In his discussion of Robert Southey’s Sir Thomas More in the Edinburgh Review of 1830, Thomas Babington Macaulay takes issue with what he considers an unfounded criticism of England’s economic progress. What Macaulay deems most deplorable is the poet laureate’s crossing over from “those departments of literature in which he might excel” into the domain of social criticism, where “he has still the very alphabet to learn.”1 Southey’s judgment of modern society proceeds as if “poli- tics” were not “a matter of science” but “of taste and feeling” (533). His rejection of industrial progress is derived not from such relevant data as “bills of mortality and statistical tables,” which he “cannot stoop to study” (539), but from a mere aversion to the aesthetics of the chang- ing face of modern England. When Southey implies that the country’s cultural illness can be deduced from the ugliness of industrial towns, Macaulay responds with withering sarcasm: Here is wisdom. Here are the principles on which nations are to be governed. . . . We are told, that our age has invented atrocities beyond Modern Language Quarterly 68:3 (September 2007) DOI 10.1215/00267929-2007-004 © 2007 by University of Washington 1 Thomas Babington Macaulay, “Southey’s Colloquies on Society,” Edinburgh Review, no. 100 (1830): 528. My sincere thanks to Jonathan Arac, Marshall Brown, and Jan Stievermann for their generous comments on earlier versions of this essay. 418 MLQ September 2007 the imagination of our fathers . . . because the dwellings of cotton- spinners are naked and rectangular. Mr Southey has found out a way, he tells us, in which the effects of manufactures and agriculture may be compared. And what is this way? To stand on a hill, to look at a cottage and a manufactory, and to see which is the prettier. (540) Beyond the evident dislike of Southey’s conservatism, Macaulay cari- catures a new claim that the well-being of the social organism is better understood by the connoisseur’s intuitive recognition of its aesthetic expressions than by the historian’s scrutiny of sociopolitical and eco- nomic data. The purpose of this essay is to sketch how today’s pub- lic intellectual emerges from the presumption that literary-aesthetic knowledge conveys privileged access to the social domain. The Privileged Sensibility of Literary Intellectuals Among Macaulay’s younger British contemporaries, a talented repre- sentative of the connoisseur as social critic was John Ruskin, whose first major publication, the essay “The Poetry of Architecture” in the 1837 issue of the Architectural Magazine, uses the same approach as Southey’s. It aims to demonstrate that the appearance of lowland cottages reflects national character and regional landscape: trimmed thatch and luxu- riant rosebushes express Englishness, in contrast to the “massive win- dows” and “broken ornaments” characteristic of French cottages.2 But the claims advanced in this essay seem modest in comparison to those of Ruskin’s later work, written after he has become an established Vic- torian sage. In an address before the Royal Institution in 1869, Ruskin argues that the “higher arts . . . tell the story of the entire national character” and that therefore Titian’s 1544 portrait of Andrea Gritti “tells you everything essential to be known about the power of Ven- ice in his day.” This claim is fleshed out in a passage that could be read as a rejoinder to Macaulay: “So, — if you go to the Kensington Museum, — everything that needs to be known, nay, the deepest things that can ever be known, of England a hundred years ago, are written in two pictures of Reynolds’: the Age of Innocence, and the young Colonel 2 John Ruskin, Works, ed. E. T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn, 39 vols. (Lon- don: Allen, 1903 – 12), 1:15. Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 419 mounting his horse. Carlyle and Froude and Macaulay all together can- not tell you as much as those two bits of canvas will when you have once learned to read them” (Works, 19:250). Ruskin’s insistence on the public relevance of aesthetic expert knowledge seems a great deal more ambi- tious than Southey’s meditations: the Romantic gentleman poet and amateur critic of the 1820s has given way to a quasi-scientific aesthetic specialist trained to “read” the stylistic intricacies of cultural artifacts. Ruskin’s approach has been related to the Victorian “moral aes- thetic,” which seeks to mediate between the social and aesthetic respon- sibilities of the literary sphere, complicating apparently simple oppo- sitions between art and life.3 The emergence of this critical attitude has been well explained as a response to the nineteenth-century social changes that encouraged the idea of Arnoldian culture as a remedy to modern alienation.4 But we can further elucidate the nineteenth- century discourse of the aesthetic specialist if we view it as a rhetorical engagement with changing rules of intellectual legitimation. The posture of Southey and Ruskin strongly resembles that of French intellectuals since the Second Republic as analyzed by Pierre Bourdieu.5 Bourdieu relates the emergence of the “intellectual field” 3 In his landmark study The Victorian Temper (1951) Jerome H. Buckley reevalu- ates the modernist stereotype about the moralist didacticism attributed to “Victo- rianism” by showing how midcentury critics such as Carlyle, Ruskin, and Tennyson fashion a moral aesthetic that seeks to resolve the tension between the public and private aspects of art in a way that not only resembles Romantic discourse (in Words- worth and Shelley) but also remains important for supposed “aesthete” critics such as Walter Pater (The Victorian Temper: A Study in Literary Culture [Cambridge, MA: Har- vard University Press, 1969], 143 – 60, 178 – 84). On the contemporary significance of this debate and the paradigm-building role of twentieth-century readings of Arnold (beginning with Lionel Trilling’s revaluation in 1939) see Jonathan Arac, “Matthew Arnold and English Studies,” in Critical Genealogies: Historical Situations for Postmodern Literary Studies (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987), 117 – 38; and Arac, “Why Does No One Care about the Aesthetic Value of Huckleberry Finn?” New Literary History 30 (1999): 774 – 75. 4 The classic starting point is Raymond Williams’s discussion of Ruskin and Arnold, notably in his groundbreaking Culture and Society, 1780 – 1950 (London: Chatto and Windus, 1958). 5 See Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature, ed. Randal Johnson (New York: Columbia University Press, 1993); and Bourdieu, The Rules of Art: Genesis and Structure of the Literary Field, trans. Susan Emanuel (Stan- ford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1996). For a discussion of Bourdieu’s key con- cepts and their aesthetic and philosophical trouble areas see Richard Shusterman, 420 MLQ September 2007 to the eighteenth- and nineteenth-century acceleration and diversifica- tion of cultural production. His account of the “invention” of the mod- ern public intellectual revolves around the Third Republic moment of semiautonomy, when the recognition of literary professionals began to depend more on the opinions of their peers than on the economic and political vicissitudes of society. Men of letters were then able to enter the political domain “in the name of norms belonging to the literary field” (Rules, 129). Whereas Macaulay and exemplary French “literary politicians and political littérateurs” (Rules, 130) like François Guizot (1787 – 1874), Jules Michelet (1798 – 1874), and Victor Cousin (1792 – 1867) had credentials in politics and economics, Zola and the writers, artists, and scholars protesting the Dreyfus affair intervened “in political life as intellectuals, meaning with a specific authority founded on their belonging to the relatively autonomous world of art, science and literature” (Rules, 340). Bourdieu’s analysis translates well to the culture of Victorian England. Despite their differences, Southey and Ruskin both claim their ground as arbiters of taste within what I would call, following Bourdieu, the “field” of Victorian intellectuals. Yet extending Bourdieu to Britain requires translation in time as well as in space. Bourdieu demonstrates well how intellectual autonomy was furthered by the evolution of the field during the late nineteenth century, when intellectuals legitimated themselves via peer recognition that ran in “almost exactly the inverse” relationship to social status, whereas earlier the “most consecrated among people of letters, especially poets and scientists” had been — in France — clients of the state, indeed among “the best provided with pen- sions and profits” (Rules, 114). But while Zola may have justified his claim to political neutrality by the increase in field autonomy since the days of politically tenured poets, he is anticipated by Southey’s and Ruskin’s claims about the public relevance of their aesthetic perceptions.6 Zola’s rhetoric of legitimation, indeed, is not specific to the near autonomy ed., Bourdieu: A Critical Reader (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999); and Marshall Brown, ed., “Pierre Bourdieu and Literary History,” special issue, MLQ 58, no. 4 (1997). For the similarities between Bourdieu and Williams see Craig Calhoun, “Putting the Sociolo- gist in the Sociology of Culture: The Self-Reflexive Scholarship of Pierre Bourdieu and Raymond Williams,” Contemporary Sociology 19 (1990): 500 – 505. 6 Zola’s double process of legitimation, as William Paulson aptly describes it, was “a virtuous circle in which the novelist shored up his literary authority by acting as a Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 421 finally realized (in Bourdieu’s account) by 1890s intellectuals. Rather, the modern intellectual’s “presumption of a privileged sensibility”7 arose during an earlier dilemma of legitimacy: it preceded and in fact presaged subsequent claims of field autonomy. Since freedom from the influence of the social domain always threatens to turn into social mar- ginality, autonomy is beset by insecurities about legitimation almost by definition. From early in the century — not just at its end — British intel- lectuals compensated with rhetorical claims to privileged sensibility. As a rhetorical treatment of intellectual anxieties of marginality, nineteenth-century claims about the public relevance of the aesthetic specialist draw on the foundations of artistic autonomy laid in Kan- tian aesthetics and revised by Romantic transcendentalists.8 The con- tested reception of Kant’s third Critique indicates how the Enlighten- ment emergence of a disinterested sphere of aesthetics was perceived as a mixed blessing. It liberates artistic practice from ideological con- straints, allowing for a definition of beauty based on internal criteria of excellence. But it also implies that professional artists and critics “merely” deal in aesthetics, while others (moral philosophers, politi- cal scientists, etc.) do more “serious,” socially significant work. The autonomy of literary beauty heralded by Kantian aesthetics recognizes the legitimacy of intellectuals as aesthetic specialists at the risk of their privatization.9 Bourdieu therefore stresses that early Romantic writers disinterested intellectual while deriving intellectual authority from his standing as a disinterested man of letters” (“The Market of Printed Goods: On Bourdieu’s Rules,” MLQ 58 [1997]: 412). 7 Ross Posnock, “Assessing the Oppositional: Contemporary Intellectual Strategies,” American Literary History 1 (1989): 147. See also Michel Foucault, Power/ Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972 – 1977, ed. Colin Gordon, trans. Colin Gordon et al. (New York: Pantheon, 1980), 126 – 29. 8 Critics argue over whether section 59 of Kant’s Critique of Judgment implies a “symbolic” or an “analogous” relation between the beautiful and the good. The symbolic view would implicate the artist more directly and personally in pragmatic moral issues. What matters historically (and to this essay), however, is the widespread understanding that Kant suggests the autonomy of the aesthetic from moral or cog- nitive demands, whether or not this view can be securely attributed to him. 9 The consequent sense of social irrelevance (and questioned masculinity) is implied in Emerson’s 1837 complaint that American intellectuals are “addressed as women” and thus “virtually disenfranchised” by society’s “practical men” (Works, 12 vols. [Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1903], 1:94). Emerson’s fears accord well with 422 MLQ September 2007 fulfilled a “subordinated function, strictly enclosed within the realm of diversion and thus removed from the burning questions of politics and theology” (Rules, 129 – 30). But notwithstanding the low internal force of their relatively undifferentiated field, Romantic intellectuals antici- pated Zola’s gestures of legitimation by roughly a century. They sought to cope with their anxieties of marginality, not by disavowing artistic autonomy — which would have been difficult, in light of the persistently differentiating intellectual fields — but by redescribing the aesthetic as “a vehicle of ontological vision.”10 The revision of Kant’s aesthetics by the Romantic generation of transcendental idealists can therefore be broken down into two steps. They agree with Kant that beauty depends on purely formal criteria; hence they locate the poetic squarely within stylistic parameters distinct from sociopolitical realities. But then they reconceptualize autonomous style as an “organic” externalization of an interior identity, turning it effectively into a cultural symptom. Pure beauty thus becomes a socially relevant numinous presence when it is seen, for instance, as a reflection of unalienated existence (in Schiller’s Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man), a symbolic representation of the infinite (in Schelling’s System of Transcendental Idealism of 1800 and A. W. Schlegel’s Berlin lectures of 1801 – 3), or a sensible manifestation of the “idea” (in Hegel’s lectures on aesthetics in the 1820s).11 It is important to note the protoprofessionalism underlying the post-Kantian revision. In Shaftesbury’s Neoplatonism, “polite” ama- teurs perceive the structural correspondences between the true, good, and the beautiful simply with their healthy senses, whereas Romantic Kantians emphasize trained aesthetic perception. For all their primitiv- Macaulay’s presentation of Southey as an artist of the beautiful who had better stay within the limits of his effeminate, socially irrelevant field. On the fear of feminization see Ann Douglas, The Feminization of American Culture (New York: Knopf, 1977); and David Leverenz, Manhood and the American Renaissance (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1989). 10 Charles Taylor, Hegel (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1975), 470. 11 Later idealists and postidealists conceived the core of cultural interiority in more concrete sociopolitical terms: their poetic manifestos begin to speak of style as the “physiognomy” of the “spirit of the age,” the “race,” the “nation,” or politicoeco- nomic systems (as Whitman’s “poetry of democracy” or Marx’s culture of capitalism). This concretization starts with the Hegelian notion that there is no spirit outside social practice. Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 423 ist fascination with the artlessness of common experience, Romantic philosophies of art retain the Kantian view that the aesthetic has essen- tially to do with issues of style or form. This can be seen in the post-1800 shift to aural definitions of the literary.12 If poetry was a sort of music instead of a picture of life, it needed cultural workers with musical abili- ties that (especially in light of the nineteenth-century preoccupation with classical art music) were more refined than those of eighteenth- century amateur connoisseurs. The post-Kantian turn, then, was moti- vated by the urge to demonstrate the social relevance of formal beauty without giving up its privilege as a self-contained “music.” Though in this view Beethoven’s compositions are irreducible to conceptual inter- pretation, they are not ornamental arabesques without content (as Edu- ard Hanslick’s radical Kantianism implies) but symbolize larger values, from the numinous to the sociopolitical: the “language of religion” (Wilhelm Wackenroder, Ludwig Tieck), the “Infinite” (E. T. A. Hoff- mann), the “Will” (Arthur Schopenhauer), the “Dionysian” (Friedrich Nietzsche), Democracy (Franz Brendel), or millenarian social utopia (Margaret Fuller, John Sullivan Dwight).13 Ruskin and Midcentury Professionalism No English-speaking nineteenth-century cultural critic realized the potential of the post-Kantian rhetoric of legitimation more clearly than Ruskin.14 His famous defense of Gothic architecture in The Stones of 12 See M. H. Abrams’s classic account, “Ut Musica Poesis,” in The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (New York: Norton, 1953), 88 – 94; and Herbert Lindenberger, “Literature and the Other Arts,” in Romanticism, ed. Marshall Brown, vol. 5 of The Cambridge History of Literary Criticism, ed. George A. Kennedy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 373 – 74. 13 On the nineteenth-century interdependence of musical metaphors and liter- ary poetics see Carl Dahlhaus, The Idea of Absolute Music, trans. Roger Lustig (Chi- cago: University of Chicago Press, 1989). For the Victorian field, Carlyle’s lecture on Shakespeare as a hero is a good reference point. Carlyle speaks of poetry as “musi- cal thought” that “leads us to the edge of the Infinite,” spoken by “a mind that has penetrated into the inmost heart of the thing” (A Carlyle Reader, ed. G. B. Tennyson [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984], 392). 14 Ruskin claimed never to have read German philosophical idealism (see his appendix to the third volume of Modern Painters [Works, 5:424]), although it is likely that he encountered it filtered through Coleridge and Carlyle. Ruskin’s American 424 MLQ September 2007 Venice (1851 – 53) illustrates the professional aspirations of late Roman- tic cultural criticism. In attributing social relevance to painterly and architectural form, Ruskin certainly draws on Romantic attempts to explain social phenomena as externalizations of an interior cultural core. But he makes more systematic use of a rhetoric of cultural paral- lelism: he insistently stages resemblances or correspondences between disparate levels of experience, between artistic forms and the struc- tures of social relations or identities. The style of Gothic facades comes to be an organic expression of the love of liberty and independence inherent in northern European mentalities and the culture of medi- eval Christianity; Greek, Egyptian, and Italian Renaissance ornaments reflect the more indolent mentalities of southern European cultures and the hierarchical structures of pre-Christian societies (or their deca- dent heirs in Renaissance Venice or industrial England). The northern European mind, with its “strength of will, independence of character, resoluteness of purpose, impatience of undue control, and that general tendency to set the individual reason against authority,” is “traceable in the rigid lines, vigorous and various masses, and daringly projecting and independent structure of the Northern Gothic ornament.” The cultural traits of southern European peoples, their lack of vital energy, and their indifference to liberty and independence “are in like manner legible in the graceful and softly guided waves and wreathed bands, in which Southern decoration is constantly disposed; in its tendency to lose its independence, and fuse itself into the surface of the masses upon which it is traced” (Works, 10:241 – 42). Ruskin claims that the core values of a culture are “legible” to him in the gestalts of architectural reviewers, at any rate, read the third volume of Modern Painters as a variation on Hege- lian aesthetics (“Ruskin’s Writings,” Putnam’s, May 1856, 496; “Ruskin’s Last Volume,” North American Review, April 1857, 379 – 406). If one cared to pursue the exact trajec- tories of philosophical influence, one could look at Coleridge’s well-known adapta- tion of Schelling’s aesthetic religion and at the crucial role of the Biographia Literaria (1817) and Aids to Reflection (1825) in the creative misreading of Kantian transcen- dentalism as a kind of “inner-lightism” in Hazlitt, Carlyle, Bancroft, Emerson, Whit- man, and many others. Hegel’s version of expressivist aesthetics, which emphasized philosophical reason, arrived much later in the English-speaking world, although its basic tenets were popularized in Europe and America through the mediation of Vic- tor Cousin as early as the 1830s. During the 1850s Hippolyte Taine revised Hegelian notions within a positivist framework toward a theory of art as a national symptom. Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 425 15 In many ways Ruskin’s argument draws on early-eighteenth-century Romanti- cism’s revaluation of the Gothic as an expression of the inwardness and melancholic self-reflexivity of northern European Christianity as it was popularized by A. W. Schlegel’s Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature (1809) and Madame de Staël’s On Germany (1810). Another possible influence (even if Ruskin denied it, in the third vol- ume of Modern Painters [Works, 5:428 – 29; cf. George Landow, The Aesthetic and Critical Theories of John Ruskin (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1971), 277]) was the work of the English architect Augustus Pugin (1812 – 52), whose Contrasts (1836), True Principles of Pointed Architecture (1841), and Apology for the Revival of Christian Architecture in England (1843) combined a functionalist with an ethical reading of architectural form that led him to defend Gothic style as an expression of Roman Catholicism and to reject neoclassical art as a reflection of pagan beliefs (see J. Mordaunt Crook, The Dilemma of Style: Architectural Ideas from the Picturesque to the Post-modern [London: Mur- ray, 1987]). 16 In an 1882 letter to Charles Eliot Norton, Ruskin refers to a “ ‘Liberty’ of line” that gives rise to the imperfections of Gothic facades (at which one can hardly look “without being seasick!”) and that embodies the freedom of the worker, and he speaks of “the horror of the restoration which puts it ‘to rights’ ” (The Correspondence of John Ruskin and Charles Eliot Norton, ed. John Lewis Bradley and Ian Ousby [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987], 450). Ruskin’s assumption that Christianity form. The northerner’s savage individuality logically causes indepen- dent lines, while the southerner’s warmhearted indolence transforms itself into soft ornaments, which lose their independence symbolically by melting into their surroundings.15 Ruskin’s most complex exegesis of symptomatic style appears in his proto-Marxist comparison of ornamental types with social modes of production. He argues in essence that architectural structures reflect the degree of social hierarchy in the social bodies out of which they grow. In the societies of antiquity, laborers were tools with easily repro- ducible and specialized tasks, such as the production “of mere geomet- rical forms, — balls, ridges, and perfectly symmetrical foliage, — which could be executed with absolute precision by line and rule” (Works, 10:189). Their slave labor produced the perfectly regular “servile orna- ment” that dominates Greek and Egyptian art. Gothic architecture, by contrast, reflects Christianity’s recognition of “the individual value of every soul” (Works, 10:190): the builders accepted the imperfection of the individual mind and thus allowed workers to engage in more var- ied and less regularized tasks. Gothic ornaments are “constitutional” or “revolutionary,” in accord with the greater freedom enjoyed by the worker.16 The idea that northern cultures have a natural relationship 426 MLQ September 2007 with liberty that defines their artistic expressions (whereas southerners are more likely to be subjected to slavery) already informs Romantic manifestos from the Ossian cult to Schlegel’s and Staël’s notions of the “poetry of the north.” Ruskin, however, sees more rigorous, even scien- tific parallels between architecture and politics when he systematically charts the conceptual content of ornamental forms. In a typical passage from The Stones of Venice, for instance, he provides a detailed overview of the social hierarchy reflected in the history of architectural styles: The degree in which the workman is degraded may be thus known at a glance, by observing whether the several parts of the building are similar or not; and if, as in Greek work, all the capitals are alike, and all the mouldings unvaried, then the degradation is complete; if, as in Egyptian or Ninevite work, though the manner of executing certain figures is always the same, the order of design is perpetually varied, the degradation is less total; if, as in Gothic work, there is perpetual change both in design and execution, the workman must have been altogether set free. (Works, 10:204 – 5) Sensitive to the rhetorical potential of cultural parallelism, Ruskin first divides the cultural practice of medieval and ancient cultures into putative cultural centers (i.e., the ethos of Christian liberalism vs. the ethos of despotism) and canonical modes of expression (i.e., Gothic vs. Egyptian, Greek, or Renaissance ornament). Then he reconnects the cultural centers and forms of expressions with tropes of resemblance: the rough Gothic textures are homologous with the vigorous and liberty-loving character of northern Christians; the smooth lines of clas- sical art reflect the indolent slave mentality of southern, pre-Christian, and postindustrial societies. He thus links Gothic art and Christian liberalism in a chiastic relationship in which they mutually reinforce one another. The Gothic ornament is then presented as the sensuous manifestation of the best of all cultures, which in turn is said to shine forth in the most beautiful of ornamentation. Ruskin’s expert knowl- edge of ornament, certified by his complex system of technical terms, marks a stage at which humanity (or the spirit of the world) realizes that its essence consists in being free is a Romantic commonplace and a central tenet of Hegel’s his- tory lectures of the 1820s (see Vorlesungen über die Philosophie der Geschichte, in Werke, 20 vols. [Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1986], 12:31). Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 427 helps him master the symptomatic resemblance between aesthetic and social forms, enabling him to reveal truths crucial to the well-being of contemporary Great Britain. The rhetorical seductiveness of Ruskin’s argument is generated by the conditions of the mid-nineteenth-century intellectual field. It is worth considering the rhetorical advantages of his narrative over other prominent positions in contemporary criticism. When Victorian formal- ists (Hanslickian Kantians, Paterian “aesthetic critics”) seek to autho- rize a specific style (such as Gothic art), they are confined to abstract debates about the effects of lines and shapes on the human mind (about whether Gothic style “pleases the eye,” intensifies experience, etc.). When they seek to promote social values such as Christian liberal- ism, they have even less to offer, because they limit aesthetic inquiry to autonomous beauty. Moralist critics like the Carlylean Pugin, who deny the primacy of formalist inquiry and would defend Gothic architec- ture by reducing it to its moral values, find it easier to stage themselves as public intellectuals because their nontechnical approach translates better into political debate. But their evasion of aesthetic form makes them vulnerable to the charge of philistinism voiced by professional- ized critics who insist that the elimination of stylistic aspects from the equation misses what is essential (i.e., aesthetic rather than merely topi- cal) about art.17 Ruskin’s cultural parallelism thus gives him an argu- mentative advantage over Paterians and moralists. It infuses his formal- ist inquiry into style with tangible social relevance but is technical and specific enough to be acceptable as professional art criticism. Emerson and the Aesthetic Specialist as Poet Ruskin’s criticism shows that he knew well how to make use of self- empowering rhetoric, but his post-Kantian gesture was no idiosyncrasy. There are similar motifs in late Romantic conceptions of the literary 17 On the Victorian demand for aesthetic professionalism based on detachment from political debate see also Arnold’s important essay “The Function of Criticism” (1864), which bemoans that English men of letters attach themselves to journals with clear political allegiances, such as the Tory organ Quarterly Review favored by Southey or the Whig Edinburgh Review preferred by Macaulay (Arnold’s ideal is the cosmopoli- tan French bimonthly Revue des deux mondes). 428 MLQ September 2007 intellectual, especially in Emerson’s meditations on the aesthetically sensitive transcendentalist he envisaged as central to the spiritual reju- venation of America.18 Emerson’s self-conception hinges on his defini- tion of the poet. Literary artist, scholar, philosopher, priest, cultural critic, and man of letters, the poet is above all a “doctor,” that is, a leader and a physician who discerns and diagnoses the nation’s spiri- tual and cultural health and devises necessary cures, which he trans- mits to the people to guide and instruct them (Works, 3:8).19 That does not make him a Carlylean moralist — on the contrary, Emerson dis- misses Carlyle for having too little time for the intricacies of aesthetic form (5:274) and too much for messy political debate (7:383 – 84).20 Despite his frequent references to the unity of beauty and truth, Emer- son distances himself from the antiaesthetic tendencies he sees in Goethe and Wordsworth (poet-philosophers or scholars leaning toward conceptual propositions [5:257, 12:326 – 27]) and in Coleridge or Swe- denborg (poet-theologians inclined to religious dogmatism [5:248 – 49, 6:219]). Emerson’s aesthetic professionalism emerges in his Kantian views about the importance of autonomous literary form. “The poet,” he says, explaining Wordsworth’s defects, “must not only converse with pure thought” but also “demonstrate it almost to the senses. His words must be pictures, his verses must be spheres and cubes, to be seen and smelled and handled” (12:366). Yet when Emerson uses musical images that suggest Hanslick’s radical formalism, they are always negative, as in the description of Tennyson as a “music-box of delicate tunes and rhythms” whose sugary verse lacks “vision” (3:9, 5:257). 18 In what follows I consider Emerson’s work in a transatlantic rather than a specifically American field imaginary. See Lawrence Buell, “Postcolonial Anxiety in Classic U.S. Literature,” in Postcolonial Theory and the United States: Race, Ethnicity, and Literature, ed. Amritjit Singh and Peter Schmidt ( Jackson: University Press of Missis- sippi, 2000), 196 – 99. 19 Emerson rarely uses the label poet to distinguish between the poetic in a strictly literary sense and other intellectual pursuits. Instead, he prefers to apply it as an evaluative term that signals not only the formalist skills of poetic composition but depth and universality of vision as well as heightened powers of perception. See Law- rence Buell, Emerson (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2003), 40 – 43. 20 Emerson’s description of Carlyle as a moralist is strategic, of course, and does not accord with views of the complexities of “sage discourse” prompted by John Holloway’s revaluation of Carlyle in The Victorian Sage: Studies in Argument (London: Macmillan, 1953). Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 429 For Emerson, both Wordsworth’s lack of aesthetic refinement and Tennyson’s liquid musicality reflect an absence of professional focus. He finds this defect even more pronounced in the British contempo- rary literary elite. Turning the tables on Macaulay, who argues against intellectual border crossing, Emerson includes him in a list of men of letters dabbling in too many fields while specializing in none: “Hun- dreds of clever Praeds and Freres and Froudes and Hoods and Hooks and Maginns and Mills and Macaulays, make poems, or short essays for a journal, as they make speeches in Parliament and on the hustings, or as they shoot and ride. It is a quite accidental and arbitrary direction of their general ability” (Works, 5:262). Such passages demonstrate that if Emerson can be described as an early public intellectual, he repre- sents a post-Kantian variety, claiming public relevance not through a commitment to the “vernacular,” as in Russell Jacoby’s definition, but through the specialist discourse of the expert interested in recognition from peers in the aesthetic field.21 “The Progress of Culture” (1867), for instance, describes intellectual activity as a dialogue between equals whose works are written “with a constant secret reference to the few intelligent persons whom the writer believes to exist in the million” — to the “master,” in other words, whom the poet-intellectual has always “in his eye, though he affect to flout them.”22 In Emerson’s major essays, his self-fashioning as an aesthetically minded poet-intellectual is rather subtle, which may be one reason that Emerson scholarship remains divided on the issue of his social commit- ment.23 His family resemblance with Ruskin is clearer in his cultural 21 Russell Jacoby, The Last Intellectuals: American Culture in the Age of Academe (New York: Basic, 1987), 235. See also Buell, Emerson, 40. 22 Emerson offers the following examples: “Michel Angelo is thinking of Da Vinci, and Raffaelle is thinking of Michel Angelo. Tennyson would give his fame for a verdict in his favor from Wordsworth. Agassiz and Owen and Huxley affect to address the American and English people, but are really writing to each other” (Works, 8:219). 23 One line of research, stressing the awkwardness of Emerson’s relationship to social practice, runs from Stephen E. Whicher’s foundational Freedom and Fate: An Inner Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1953) through John Carlos Rowe’s At Emerson’s Tomb: The Politics of Classic American Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997). This tradition overlaps with one that is skeptical of Emerson’s radicalism: see Christopher Newfield, The Emerson Effect: Individualism and Submission in America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996); Robert Milder, “The Radical Emerson?” in The Cambridge Companion to Ralph 430 MLQ September 2007 criticism. For instance, English Traits (1856), Emerson’s account of his visits to Britain during the 1830s and 1840s, revolves around an aural image whose function resembles Ruskin’s visual parallelisms in The Stones of Venice (whose final volume appeared just three years earlier). Implying that the spirit of English society manifests itself in its poetic and artistic expressions, Emerson says that the “voice” of the English “modern muse has a slight hint of the steam-whistle” (Works, 5:251). The muse’s metallic sound, then, embodies the tendency toward the mechanical that Emerson diagnoses in Britain’s aristocratic govern- ment, empiricist philosophy, and moral pragmatism. Emerson’s aural image synthesizes a tradition of critiques of mod- ern alienation that begins with Schiller’s vision of the mechanical state in his Aesthetic Letters of 1793, and it adopts the opposition of the organic to the mechanical that Coleridge imported from A. W. Schle- gel’s Vienna lectures (1809). Emerson’s most direct influence, Carlyle’s 1829 Edinburgh Review essay on the “mechanical age,” already extends this opposition into an expressivist vision of a Hegelian “total style” of a culture, where the mechanical disease interferes with all social domains (intellectual, political, and economic). But Emerson’s account differs from Carlyle’s in the implication that the mechanistic cultural force is most vividly manifest in the metallic tone of the English muse. Emerson’s point is that England’s cultural malaise may have been overlooked by the nation’s most important political and philosophical pundits (Macaulay and Mill, among others) but is astutely recognized by transcendentalist aesthetic specialists (like Emerson himself), who intuit the mechanical cultural dominant from its most important indi- cators. The “fine arts fall to the ground. Beauty, except as luxurious commodity, does not exist,” and “poetry is degraded and made orna- mental” (5:248, 255).24 Waldo Emerson, ed. Joel Porte and Saundra Morris (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 49 – 75; and Sacvan Bercovitch, “Emerson, Individualism, and Liberal Dissent,” in The Rites of Assent: Transformations in the Symbolic Construction of America (New York: Routledge, 1993), 307 – 52. A different critical tradition, which argues that Emer- son’s transcendental thought is not only congenial but foundational to social reform, is represented by Anne C. Rose, Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, 1830 – 1850 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1981); and Len Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero: Emerson, Anti- slavery, and Reform (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1990). 24 “Pope and his school,” Emerson continues, “wrote poetry fit to put round frosted cake. What did Walter Scott write without stint? a rhymed traveller’s guide to Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 431 Like Ruskin, Emerson uses parallelistic rhetoric to stage cultural artifacts and sociopolitical phenomena as symptoms particularly evi- dent to the trained eye or the fine-tuned ear of the poet-intellectual. Just as Ruskin delivers his criticism of capitalist England through an analysis of classical architectural form, so Emerson sees the evils of a Birmingham-style economy, the fallacies of “feudal institutions,” and the aggressive imperialism of British foreign policy through his powers of aesthetic perception. Even Emerson’s criticism of utilitarian ethics and empiricist epistemology proceeds with minimal recourse to philo- sophical or ethical discourses: in his account of the Anglo-Saxon his- tory of ideas, the mechanical sound of British poetry is said to reveal the hollowness of Locke’s and Bentham’s systems. Post-Victorian Continuities Emerson’s claim that British culture reveals itself through the sound of its aesthetic expressions is foundational to the emergence of an American aesthetics that views the paratactical free verse of Leaves of Grass as an embodiment of U.S. national identity, as a “lawless music” running through America’s wilderness and sociopolitical practices.25 By contrast, Ruskin’s sociopolitical readings resurface in the Marxist interest in homologies between aesthetic and economic modes. Both ideological formations have lost their former persuasiveness, but the post-Kantian gesture remains a burning temptation for critics today, even if it is now voiced with epistemological embarrassment.26 It seems that twentieth-century levels of professionalism have not alleviated the Victorian anxieties of social recognition. For all the historical and institutional differences, the fields of post-Victorian university-based literary scholarship induce similar rhetorical responses. Scotland. And the libraries of verses they print have this Birmingham character. How many volumes of well-bred metre we must jingle through, before we can be filled, taught, renewed!” (Works, 5:255 – 56). 25 Walt Whitman, “To a Locomotive in Winter,” in Leaves of Grass, and Other Writ- ings, ed. Michael Moon (New York: Norton, 2002), 395. 26 On the embarrassment of using epistemologically dubious or undertheo- rized critical approaches as antidotes for scholarly anxieties of marginality see Alan Liu, “The Power of Formalism: The New Historicism,” ELH 56 (1989): 721 – 71; and Charles Altieri, “Lyrical Ethics and Literary Experience,” Style 32 (1998): 272. 432 MLQ September 2007 In the early- to mid-twentieth-century demand for the establishment of “sciences” of literature distinct from other departments within the humanities, we can recognize the Kantian separation of the aesthetic from cognitive, moral, or ideological concerns.27 The late Victorian fear of intellectual feminization reappeared in polemical questions about the social use of ivory-tower scientists analyzing self-contained literary objects. Post-Kantian responses to this fear can already be seen in New Critical claims about the social relevance of difficulty and abstraction: as a complex symbolic web that yields special forms of national wisdom, the literary artifact warrants “the sustained attention of serious men who otherwise might have turned to more immediate public or com- mercial concerns.”28 The public relevance of literary form was a key issue of most theo- retical turns (to politics in the 1960s, history in the 1970s, ethics and “culture” in the 1980s, ecology in the 1990s, etc.), although these turns were not necessarily post-Kantian. They were often motivated by an anti- Kantian conviction that the literary is not reducible to form, that there- fore the political relevance of a work lies not in the politics embodied in its formal “music” but simply in its politics (as many New Historicist and postcolonial critics have argued). But the post-Kantian gesture persists in post – New Critical schools that present their rejection of formalism as a rediscovery of the sociopolitical value of aesthetic inquiry (as opposed to the value of mere sociopolitical inquiry). The more full-blooded variet- 27 John Crowe Ransom’s “Criticism, Inc.” (1937) characteristically called on “aes- thetically minded” professors and students of literature to reclaim literary studies from a hostile takeover by literary historians and “moralists” and to reestablish “the artistic object in its own right” (The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, ed. Vin- cent B. Leitch [New York: Norton, 2001], 1109, 1111, 1115). In Europe this Kantian moment emerges in the scientistic theories of Russian formalists and their preoccu- pation with literariness. Jakobson’s “Modern Russian Poetry” (1921) compares tradi- tional literary historians, who “strayed into related disciplines — the history of philos- ophy, the history of culture, of psychology, etc.” — to intrusive police indiscriminately seizing every bystander they find at the scene of a crime (Leitch, 1166). 28 Evan Carton and Gerald Graff, “The Nationalizing of the New Criticism,” in The Cambridge History of American Literature, ed. Sacvan Bercovitch, vol. 8 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 314. For a similar argument regarding the criti- cal practice of F. R. Leavis and T. S. Eliot see Richard Poirier, The Renewal of Literature: Emersonian Reflections (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1987), 4 – 7. Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 433 ies of this critical trend resonate with Victorian images of embodiment: Emerson’s and Ruskin’s parallelisms reappear in the 1960s, for instance, in Adorno’s homologies of political and musical form (Schoenberg’s music breaking up the “shackles” of totalitarianism)29 and in the post- modernist manifestos on the correspondence of quantum theory to the “exploded forms” of postmodernist fiction and poetics.30 A more subtle rehearsal of the post-Kantian moment can be seen in the notion (often casually implied) that pure literariness and cul- tural expressiveness are two sides of the same coin — that Shakespeare’s poeticity, for example, contributes to the astuteness with which he illu- minates Elizabethan power structures, while his cultural representa- tiveness makes him all the more literary.31 A similar double process of legitimation underlies the recent interest in the interdependence of literary form and moral value. Martha C. Nussbaum reads Henry James’s Golden Bowl as an ethicomoral vision that is “finely tuned” 29 Adorno’s aesthetic theory is Kantian in its suggestion that the artwork approx- imates the “essence of the real” to the degree of its “emancipation from the exter- nal world’s factual façade” (Aesthetic Theory, ed. and trans. Robert Hullot-Kentor [Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1997], 6), while it is post-Kantian in its consideration of abstract, nonrepresentational form as a precondition of artistic truth value and thus as indexical of social health. Adorno’s heroic narrative views musical progress as a negotiation of democratic authenticity. He views Beethoven as an important pioneer on the frontier of democratization, because in his music “the din of the bourgeois revolution rumbles” (Introduction to the Sociology of Music, trans. E. B. Ashton [New York: Seabury, 1976], 211). While the early Beethoven, according to Adorno, still tries to reconcile the aporias of bourgeois society, his later composi- tions (particularly his late string quartets) problematize the subject’s alienation by destabilizing the sonata structure with loose phrases and cadences and with discon- nected trills. Schoenberg’s work, then, appears as a democratic victory over tonality. In 1955 Adorno argued that in Schoenberg “tonal relations” were “stretched to the extreme,” until “in the end, every sound became autonomous, all tones enjoyed equal rights, and the reign of the tonic triad was overthrown,” so that “something like the musical realm of freedom really opens up” (“Toward an Understanding of Schoen- berg,” in Essays on Music, ed. Richard Leppert, trans. Susan H. Gillespie [Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002], 636). 30 See James M. Mellard, The Exploded Form: The Modernist Novel in America (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1980). 31 On the centrality of the link between literariness and cultural expressiveness to American studies (especially with regard to Emerson and Whitman) see Berco- vitch, Rites of Assent, 353. 434 MLQ September 2007 because it emerges from “a fine work of art” whose stylistic sophistica- tion defies paraphrase into the “flat” language of moral philosophy.32 The idea that storytelling offers better insights into moral judgment than abstract theorizing is central to the so-called turn to ethics.33 But Nussbaum differs from more persuasive proponents of such a turn in that she argues for the primacy of literature over practical moral philosophy with a decidedly post-Kantian spin. Defining moral astute- ness as perception of complexity, she contends that society’s efforts at ethicomoral melioration are best served by aesthetic specialists trained to discriminate among artistic forms.34 Such strong claims for the social relevance of stylistic literariness show the extent to which post- Kantian rhetoric continues to resonate with “engaged” intellectuals, who ground their sociopolitically inflected approach to cultural criti- cism on their expertise as literary critics.35 32 Martha C. Nussbaum, “ ‘Finely Aware and Richly Responsible’: Literature and the Moral Imagination,” in Love’s Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (New York: Oxford University Press, 1990), 152. 33 See Marjorie Garber, Beatrice Hanssen, and Rebecca L. Walkowitz, eds., The Turn to Ethics (New York: Routledge, 2000). 34 In a characteristic passage Nussbaum argues that since artists like James pos- sess greater “visual or auditory acuity” and “developed their faculties more finely,” they “can make discriminations of color and shape (of pitch and timbre) that are unavailable to the rest of us,” and consequently they “miss less . . . of what is to be heard or seen in a landscape, a symphony, a painting.” This makes them our best allies (“fellow fighter[s],” “guide[s]”) in what Nussbaum refers to as “the war against moral obtuseness” (164). In her later work, on the nexus of law and literature, Nuss- baum makes even stronger claims, arguing that “literary understanding . . . promotes habits of mind that lead toward social equality” (Poetic Justice: The Literary Imagination and Public Life [Boston: Beacon, 1995], 92). For a critique of Nussbaum see Richard A. Posner, “Against Ethical Criticism,” Philosophy and Literature 21 (1997): 1 – 27; Altieri, “Lyrical Ethics”; and Richard Rorty, “Redemption from Egotism: James and Proust as Spiritual Exercises,” Telos 3 (2001): 243 – 63. 35 A representative example is Terry Eagleton, The Idea of Culture (Oxford: Black- well, 2000), which criticizes American society for a destructive puritanism deeply ingrained in a variety of cultural styles (e.g., the “fetish of the body” in popular cul- ture, the “middle-class American obsession” with “dieting,” the importance of sexual- ity in literary and cultural studies, the neopragmatist turn in American philosophy, the “discourse called political correctness,” and the “artless language favoured by American creative writing courses” [88 – 90]). Eagleton’s polemic is unquestionably motivated by his disapproval of the economic and political premises of American empire. But rather than offer economic and political arguments, he rests his criticism Leypoldt Ruskin, Emerson, and Contemporar y Professionalism 435 It seems, therefore, that Macaulay’s criticism of Southey remains useful today, parodying as it does the claim that society’s ethicomoral and sociopolitical discourse can be better understood through aesthetic embodiments than, well, through ethicomoral and sociopolitical dis- course. And yet, do we then have to agree with Macaulay on the social irrelevance of the literary-aesthetic specialist? Only so long as we define the literary-aesthetic in terms of the formalism prevalent since the late eighteenth century. Formalist musical metaphors invite us to view beauty as autonomous and disembodied form (the “music” of poetry as opposed to its conceptual content), but then they tempt us to reverse beauty’s separation from the social world by a post-Kantian sleight of hand that presents a culture’s disembodied “music” as its most profound social symptom.36 We can evade the post-Kantian gesture, I believe, if we view the literary-aesthetic as an imaginary world making that cuts across the form-content distinction and destabilizes the opposition of a work’s stylis- tic artistry and its sociopolitical expressiveness.37 I take the trope of world making to imply that while form is always political, its political content depends on the propositions with which it is connected in specific social practices: it cannot be abstracted from its readerly and writerly contexts. Any attempt to catalog a “politics of form” is dubious so long as it assumes that an abstract gestalt can be political by virtue of its disinterestedness and hence its removal from social practice.38 on the power of the literary intellectual to discern the political content of America’s cultural style. Like Emerson in English Traits, Eagleton ties aesthetic and conceptual illnesses so gracefully together that one allegation supports the other: America’s puri- tanism seems worse by association with aesthetic and philosophical decline, while Ror- tyan pragmatism and Carveresque minimalism seem poorer for expressing a cultural neurosis. 36 On the continuing significance of musical images for contemporary models of U.S. culture (especially from an African American viewpoint) see the final chapter of John D. Kerkering, The Poetics of National and Racial Identity in Nineteenth-Century Ameri- can Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 200 – 235. 37 This approach is exemplified in recent redefinitions of the literary from the viewpoints of literary anthropology (Wolfgang Iser, Winfried Fluck), cognitive theo- ries of metaphor (Mark Turner, Mark Johnson), and neopragmatism (Stanley Fish, Walter Benn Michaels, Richard Shusterman, Richard Rorty). 38 The trope of world making, to be sure, has a cognitive bias whose conse- quences are controversial (see, e.g., Alan Richardson and Francis F. Steen, eds., “Lit- erature and the Cognitive Revolution,” special issue, Poetics Today 23, no. 1 [2002]). 436 MLQ September 2007 To put the point in this way means to counter Macaulay’s dismissal of the literary-aesthetic by suggesting that the scientific approach to social discourse (through the “bills of mortality and statistical tables” that Southey “cannot stoop to study”) depends no less on imaginary processes of world making than Southey’s more strictly poetic pursuits. Hence literary intellectuals do not need the post-Kantian gesture to make a case for their social legitimacy against Macaulayan attempts to restrict the literary-aesthetic to the private. By the same logic, literary intellectuals may deal with their marginality by turning their interpre- tations to the more political (or ethical) aspects of world making, but only if they are prepared to engage with political or ethical vocabular- ies rather than practice a version of formalist aesthetics that they pre- sent as a more privileged version of politics or ethics. Günter Leypoldt is professor of American literature and culture at the University of Mainz. He has published on literary transcendentalism, eighteenth-century aesthet- ics, pragmatist literary theory, and 1980s neorealist fiction. As it undercuts any definition of the aesthetic in exclusively nonconceptual terms (such as the materiality of the object), it can be viewed as hostile to formalism (in the sense that it makes critical debates on the value of style seem beside the point). At the very least, this trope induces some pragmatists to drop the distinction between artistic and nonartistic discourse and instead distinguish between public and private ways of world making. See, e.g., Richard Rorty, Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), xiii – xv. For a critique of Rorty see Richard Shus- terman, Pragmatist Aesthetics: Living Beauty, Rethinking Art (Oxford: Blackwell, 1992). On pragmatism’s cognitive bias see also Charles Altieri, “Practical Sense — Impracti- cal Objects: Why Neo-pragmatism Cannot Sustain an Aesthetics,” REAL: Yearbook of Research in English and American Literature 15 (1999): 113 – 25. 
work_4v2o4k6vqrcspb5dbrdltbftju	----	[PDF] Good and not so good medical ethics | Semantic Scholar Skip to search formSkip to main content> Semantic Scholar's Logo Search Sign InCreate Free Account You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. DOI:10.1136/medethics-2014-102312 Corpus ID: 3054769Good and not so good medical ethics @article{Rhodes2014GoodAN, title={Good and not so good medical ethics}, author={R. Rhodes}, journal={Journal of Medical Ethics}, year={2014}, volume={41}, pages={71 - 74} } R. Rhodes Published 2014 Medicine Journal of Medical Ethics In this paper, I provide a brief sketch of the purposes that medical ethics serves and what makes for good medical ethics. Medical ethics can guide clinical practice and biomedical research, contribute to the education of clinicians, advance thinking in the field, and direct healthcare policy. Although these are distinct activities, they are alike in several critical respects. Good medical ethics is coherent, illuminating, accurate, reasonable, consistent, informed, and measured. After this… Expand View on BMJ jme.bmj.com Save to Library Create Alert Cite Launch Research Feed Share This Paper 12 CitationsBackground Citations 5 Methods Citations 1 View All Topics from this paper Thrombocytopenia SYNOVITIS, GRANULOMATOUS, WITH UVEITIS AND CRANIAL NEUROPATHIES (disorder) Peer Review responsibility Manuscripts interest 12 Citations Citation Type Citation Type All Types Cites Results Cites Methods Cites Background Has PDF Publication Type Author More Filters More Filters Filters Sort by Relevance Sort by Most Influenced Papers Sort by Citation Count Sort by Recency Clinical Ethics Cultural Competence and the Importance of Dialogue a Case Study B. Gray Computer Science 2016 4 PDF View 1 excerpt, cites background Save Alert Research Feed Defending the four principles approach as a good basis for good medical practice and therefore for good medical ethics Raanan Gillon Sociology, Medicine Journal of Medical Ethics 2014 34 PDF Save Alert Research Feed A broad ethics model for mental health practice G. Young Psychology 2016 9 Save Alert Research Feed Ethical Governance and Ethical Tools Ellen-Marie Forsberg, Clare Shelley-Egan, E. Thorstensen, L. Landeweerd, B. Hofmann Political Science 2017 Save Alert Research Feed Food for thought: ethics case discussion as slow nourishment in a fast world Roger Higgs Sociology, Medicine Journal of Medical Ethics 2014 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Principles alone cannot guarantee ethical AI Brent Mittelstadt Political Science, Computer Science 2019 50 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Principles alone cannot guarantee ethical AI B. Mittelstadt Sociology 2019 22 Save Alert Research Feed Adherence to Principles of Medical Ethics Among Physicians in Mazandaran Province, Iran. A. Ghaderi, Farhad Malek, M. Mohammadi, Somayeh Rostami Maskopaii, Amir Hamta, S. A. Madani Psychology, Medicine Archives of Iranian medicine 2018 Save Alert Research Feed In pursuit of goodness in bioethics: analysis of an exemplary article B. Hofmann, M. Magelssen Sociology, Medicine BMC medical ethics 2018 1 View 3 excerpts, cites background and methods Save Alert Research Feed The Politics of Maintaining Professional Values in the 21st Century J. M. Charles Sociology 2016 2 View 1 excerpt, cites background Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 ... References SHOWING 1-10 OF 36 REFERENCES SORT BYRelevance Most Influenced Papers Recency The virtues in medical practice E. Pellegrino, D. Thomasma Psychology 1993 544 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Clinical Ethics: A Practical Approach to Ethical Decisions in Clinical Medicine A. Jonsen, M. Siegler, W. Winslade Medicine 1982 446 Save Alert Research Feed A systematic approach to clinical moral reasoning Rosamond Rhodes, D. Alfandre Psychology 2007 20 Save Alert Research Feed The ethics of care : personal, political, and global Virginia Held Political Science 2006 477 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Principles of biomedical ethics T. Beauchamp, J. Childress Medicine, Psychology 1979 10,486 Save Alert Research Feed The Blackwell guide to medical ethics R. Rhodes, L. Francis, A. Silvers Medicine 2006 52 Save Alert Research Feed Canaries in the mines: children, risk, non-therapeutic research, and justice. M. Spriggs Medicine, Psychology Journal of medical ethics 2004 39 PDF Save Alert Research Feed A critique of principlism. K. Clouser, B. Gert Sociology, Medicine The Journal of medicine and philosophy 1990 402 Save Alert Research Feed An Open Letter to Institutional Review Boards Considering Northfield Laboratories' PolyHeme® Trial K. Kipnis, N. King, R. Nelson Medicine The American journal of bioethics : AJOB 2006 37 Save Alert Research Feed Bioethics: A Systematic Approach B. Gert, C. Culver, K. Clouser Psychology 2006 137 Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 ... Related Papers Abstract Topics 12 Citations 36 References Related Papers Stay Connected With Semantic Scholar Sign Up About Semantic Scholar Semantic Scholar is a free, AI-powered research tool for scientific literature, based at the Allen Institute for AI. Learn More → Resources DatasetsSupp.aiAPIOpen Corpus Organization About UsResearchPublishing PartnersData Partners   FAQContact Proudly built by AI2 with the help of our Collaborators Terms of Service•Privacy Policy The Allen Institute for AI By clicking accept or continuing to use the site, you agree to the terms outlined in our Privacy Policy, Terms of Service, and Dataset License ACCEPT & CONTINUE 
work_4vgoskl5ovgurphigjgmr5a2ka	----	Proust’s In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation LUND UNIVERSITY PO Box 117 221 00 Lund +46 46-222 00 00 EVERS, Meindert Proust's In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang, 2013. 206 pp., £ 29.80, ISBN 978-3-631-62931-4 Li, Shuangyi Published in: Modern and Contemporary France DOI: 10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 2014 Document Version: Publisher's PDF, also known as Version of record Link to publication Citation for published version (APA): Li, S. (2014). EVERS, Meindert Proust's In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang, 2013. 206 pp., £ 29.80, ISBN 978-3-631-62931-4. Modern and Contemporary France, 22(3), 406-407. https://doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 Total number of authors: 1 General rights Unless other specific re-use rights are stated the following general rights apply: Copyright and moral rights for the publications made accessible in the public portal are retained by the authors and/or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. • Users may download and print one copy of any publication from the public portal for the purpose of private study or research. • You may not further distribute the material or use it for any profit-making activity or commercial gain • You may freely distribute the URL identifying the publication in the public portal Read more about Creative commons licenses: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/ Take down policy If you believe that this document breaches copyright please contact us providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim. https://doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 https://portal.research.lu.se/portal/en/publications/evers-meindert-prousts-in-search-of-lost-time-the-history-of-a-vocation-frankfurt-am-main-berlin-bern-bruxelles-new-york-oxford-wien-peter-lang-2013-206-pp--2980-isbn-9783631629314(700d125c-d875-44f4-8195-5e8d2c5a4f80).html https://doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at https://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=cmcf20 Modern & Contemporary France ISSN: 0963-9489 (Print) 1469-9869 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/cmcf20 EVERS, Meindert Proust's In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang, 2013. 206 pp., £ 29.80, ISBN 978-3-631-62931-4 Shuaggyi Li To cite this article: Shuaggyi Li (2014) EVERS, Meindert Proust's In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation Frankfurt am Main, Berlin, Bern, Bruxelles, New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang, 2013. 206 pp., £ 29.80, ISBN 978-3-631-62931-4, Modern & Contemporary France, 22:3, 406-407, DOI: 10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 Published online: 14 Mar 2014. Submit your article to this journal Article views: 25 View Crossmark data https://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=cmcf20 https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/cmcf20 https://www.tandfonline.com/action/showCitFormats?doi=10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 https://doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 https://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=cmcf20&show=instructions https://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=cmcf20&show=instructions http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1080/09639489.2014.889104&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2014-03-14 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1080/09639489.2014.889104&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2014-03-14 types while the sharp Republican lines betweencitizensandnon-nationalstendto flatten differences between different groups and trajectories. All of this is coherent and convincing although there is perhaps a danger of allowing debates around the Republic and its hidden exclusions to obscure other critical pos- itions coming, for example, from a more radical leftist standpoint.Overall, however, this is a well-argued and informed book that does important work by bringing some relatively neglected but significant areas of film production into view. MARTIN O’SHAUGHNESSY Nottingham Trent University q 2013 Martin O’Shaughnessy http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2013.870146 Proust’s In Search of Lost Time: The History of a Vocation MEINDERT EVERS Frankfurt am Main, Peter Lang, 2013 206 pp., £29.80, hbk, ISBN 978 3-63-162931-4 This book is based on Meindert Evers’s doctoral thesis, originally written in Dutch in1974,revisedandpublishedin1997, and translated into German in 2004. The author firmly grounds his discussion of Proustian aesthetics in the (mainly) European intellectual and artistic history immediately before and during Proust’s time. It is impressive how the author, in barely 10 pages in Chapter I, surveys an extensive cast of thinkers, writers and artists who may have contributed to the fin de siècle spirit. Some are better known than others: Kant, Heinrich von Kleist, Scho- penhauer, Freud, Nietzsche, Louis Cou- perus, Thomas Mann, Baudelaire, Oscar Wilde and Wagner, to name but a few. This section is followed by more detailed ‘influence studies’ between Proust and a few key writers such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Thomas Carlyle, John Ruskin, as well as those involved in the Symbolist movement. However, Evers’s account, which is made from an intellectual historian’s perspective, is necessarily sche- matic, and Proust specialists today may find some of his observations unsatisfac- torily limited, especially given how many monographs on Proust’s relation to the above thinkers and artists have appeared since the 1970s. The flourishing field of Proust studies since the 1970s means that many of the author’s arguments may appear less original today than they were then. Throughout the book, particularly in Chapter II, Evers consistently stresses how Proust is not a decadent or aestheticist writer, which he demonstrates primarily through discussions of Proust’s characters (Swann and Charlus) and three paradig- matic relationships between art and life (around notions of mondanité, contradic- tion and commitment), as well as two informative comparative studies with Mann and Nietzsche. While these various points are very well substantiated with abundant textual analyses, very few scholars today would insist that Proust should be defined primarily as a decadent writer. Taking into account recent scholar- ship on the relation between decadent aesthetics and Proust’s own aesthetic evolution, one may wish that this clear- cut opposition between Proust and deca- dence set up by Evers could be further nuanced, as the author—perhaps rather too absolutely—asserts: ‘Proust, still seen by some as a representative of the fin de 406 Book Reviews http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2013.870146 siècle, because his novel portrays this time, has none of the characteristics of a decadent author. Proust is radically different. His philosophy differs comple- tely from that of a D’Annunzio, a Wilde, a Couperus, three examples of typical fin de siècle authors’ (134). Chapter III, which explores aesthetic experience (through ‘involuntary memory’, ‘dreaming and awakening’ and ‘modern means of com- munication’), could best serve as a critical introduction to this particular aspect of Proust’s novel, as it has been much more elaborated by later Proust scholarship. The last chapter, which discusses Proust’s ‘modern’ representations of ‘cultural criti- cism’, ‘the Dreyfus Affair’, ‘the First World War’, ‘homosexuality’ and ‘the aristocracy and high society’, could be read in a similar fashion. However, Evers makes a crucial argu- ment in Chapter IV, entitled ‘The Re- creation of Reality: Perspectivism and Metaphor’. The part on Proust’s perspecti- vism is probably the book’s most original contribution to our current Proust scho- larship. The notion of perspectivism is often associated with Nietzsche in philos- ophy and Cubism in art. But Evers first traces Proust’s perspectivist aesthetic to Ruskin and then—rather intriguingly—to Leibniz and hispluralistic andfragmentary visions of the one and only universe consisting of ‘monads’. We have concrete evidence of Proust’s passionate reading of Leibniz’s work (e.g. Monadology). Given the sheer volume and complexity of Leibniz’s philosophy, one may wish this fascinating investigation to be developed further. The book covers quite a wide range of topics; the chapters are relatively inde- pendent of one another and can be read accordingly. Overall, undergraduate stu- dents and lovers of Proust rather than Proust scholars are likely to benefit most from this book, with its almost jargon- free writing style, lucid explanations and resourceful analyses. In fact, one does not even have to have read Proust to follow most of the discussions, as the author rather extensively recapitulates many plots before analysing them. Quotations are all in English accompanied by Proust’s French original in the footnotes (referring to the 1954 Pléiade edition rather than the new Pléiade) with occasional typos and wrong paginations (174–175). SHUAGGYI LI University of Edinburgh q 2014 Shuangyi Li http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 The Livres-Souvenirs of Colette: Genre and the Telling of Time ANNE FREADMAN London, Legenda, 2012 178 pp., £40.00, hbk, ISBN 978 1-90-654093-7 Thetitleofthebookgivesusamajorclueon theinnovativeapproachdevelopedbyAnne Freadman in her analysis of a particular Colette corpus, the one devoted to auto- biographical writing: Les Vrilles de la vigne, Mes apprentissages, La Maison de Claudine, Sido, L’Étoile Vesper and Le Fanal bleu. Freadman follows the powerful lure of Rimbaldian vieilles vieilleries and its echoes with Colette’s fondness for collecting objects, people and memories. To this must be added a technical aspect, that of the study of the genre of Colette’s writing. Freadman argues that, by largely avoiding Modern & Contemporary France 407 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09639489.2014.889104 
work_4ygq55srjzd6nallw4qqeo3tku	----	OP-LLCJ130021 1..8 Patterns of local discourse coherence as a feature for authorship attribution ............................................................................................................................................................ Vanessa Wei Feng and Graeme Hirst University of Toronto, Canada ....................................................................................................................................... Abstract We define a model of discourse coherence based on Barzilay and Lapata’s entity grids as a stylometric feature for authorship attribution. Unlike standard lexical and character-level features, it operates at a discourse (cross-sentence) level. We test it against and in combination with standard features on nineteen book- length texts by nine nineteenth-century authors. We find that coherence alone performs often as well as and sometimes better than standard features, though a combination of the two has the highest performance overall. We observe that despite the difference in levels, there is a correlation in performance of the two kinds of features. ................................................................................................................................................................................. 1 Introduction Contemporary methods of authorship attribution and discrimination that are based on text classification algorithms invariably use low-level within-sentence aspects of the text as stylometric features. In his recent survey, for example, Stamatatos (2009) lists twenty types of stylometric features that mostly involve character and word unigrams and n-grams, part-of-speech tags, and syntactic chunks and parse structures. Koppel, Schler, and Argamon (2009) adduce a similar set. In this article, we experiment with a stylometric feature that, by contrast, is drawn from the discourse level, across sentences: patterns of local coherence. We look at the choice that a writer makes when referring to an entity as to which gram- matical role in the sentence the reference will appear in, and how this choice changes over a sequence of sentences as the writer repeatedly refers to the same entity. We show that differences in the resulting patterns of reference and grammatical role are a powerful stylometric feature for identifying an author. 2 Barzilay and Lapata’s discourse entity grid The basis of our method is the discourse entity grid, introduced by Barzilay and Lapata (2008) (‘B&L’ hereafter) as a model of local discourse coherence. B&L’s model is based on the assumption that a text naturally makes repeated reference to the elements of a set of entities that are central to its topic. It represents local coherence as a sequence of transitions, from one sentence to the next, in the grammatical role of these references. Consider, for example, this text: (1) (a) Thus encouraged, Oliver tapped at the study door. (b) On Mr. Brownlow calling to him to come in, he found himself in a little back room, quite full of books, with a window, looking into some pleasant little gar- dens. (c) There was a table drawn up before the window, at which Mr. Brownlow was seated reading. (d) When he saw Oliver, he pushed the book away from him, and told him to come near the table, and sit down.1 Correspondence: Graeme Hirst, Department of Computer Science, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M5S 3G4. E-mail: gh@cs.toronto.edu Literary and Linguistic Computing � The Author 2013. Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of ALLC. All rights reserved. For Permissions, please email: journals.permissions@oup.com 1 of 8 doi:10.1093/llc/fqt021 Literary and Linguistic Computing Advance Access published April 9, 2013 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ The entity Oliver makes the following sequence of grammatical roles: it is the subject of tapped in (a); it is both the subject and object of found and the object of the prepositional phrase to him in (b); it does not appear in (c); and it is an object (twice, of saw and of told) in (d). As this example demon- strates, it is the referent entity itself that matters, not the form of the reference as, for example, Oliver, him, himself, or (not in this example) the boy are all the same entity, whereas the books of sentence (b) are not the same entity as the book of sentence (d). When an entity appears in more than one role in a sentence, it is assigned only the ‘highest ranking’ role (Barzilay and Lapata, 2008); subject outranks object, which in turn outranks all others. Thus in sentence (b), we assign (only) the subject role to Oliver. The sequence for the entity Oliver in this four-sentence text is thus [S S – O], where ‘–’ indicates that the entity does not occur in the sen- tence; hence the sentence-to-sentence transitions made by this entity in the text are subject to subject ([S S]), subject to not-mentioned ([S –]), and not- mentioned to object ([– O]). In the case of passive verbs, the surface-form subject is assumed to take the grammatical object role. In the example text, the table, which does not appear in the first two sentences, is construed as the grammatical object of the passive verb drawn up rather than its subject in (c),2 and it then appears in a prepositional phrase in (d). Thus its sequence is [– – O X], where ‘X’ indicates a role that is neither subject nor object, and the transitions (in addition to the empty transition [– –]) are [– O] and [O X]. Because a complete sentence, possibly containing several clauses, is considered at a single time in B&L’s model, a sentence may have several entities in subject and object roles in the different clauses, and even a simple clause may refer to more than one entity within a single grammatical role. It is also possible, of course, that an entity will be mentioned only once in the entire text (such as the gardens in example (1) above) and thus not contribute to local coherence at all. B&L consider an entity to be salient if it is mentioned in the text at least twice (or some other threshold), and they describe models in which transitions for salient and non-salient enti- ties are treated separately. More formally, we can represent a document d as an entity grid in which the columns represent the entities referred to in d, and rows represent the sen- tences.3 Each cell corresponds to the grammatical role of an entity in the corresponding sentence: sub- ject (S), object (O), neither (X), or nothing (–). Each column is a complete sequence of roles. An example of an entity grid for the salient entities of example (1) is shown in Table 1. B&L define a local transition as a sequence fS, O, X, �gn, representing the occurrence and grammatical roles of an entity in n adjacent sen- tences. In our example earlier, we took n ¼ 2 for transitions, but we could use higher values; for example, for n ¼ 3, Oliver has the local transition [S – O] from sentences (b) to (d). Clearly, these transition sequences can be extracted from the entity grid as continuous subsequences in each column. For example, the entity Mr. Brownlow in Table 1 has a bigram transition [S S] from sentence (b) to (c). For a given value of n, 4n different local transitions are possible. We can count the number of times that each one occurs in a given text and thus compute the proportion of transitions that are of each type. We can interpret these proportions as probabilities—the probability that any randomly chosen transition of length n in the text is of the given type. This lets us encode the entity grid as a feature vector (ðdÞ ¼ ðp1ðdÞ, p2ðdÞ, . . . , pmðdÞÞ, where ptðdÞ is the probability of transition type t in the entity grid, computed as the number of occurrences of t in the entity grid of text d divided by the total number of transitions of length n in the entity grid, and m is the total number of transition types considered. For example, if we take transitions of length n¼2, then m ¼ 16, and if n¼3, then m¼64. We have Pm t¼1 ptðdÞ ¼ 1. Table 1 The grid for the salient entities of example (1) Oliver Mr. Brownlow Window Table (a) S – – – (b) S S X – (c) – S X O (d) O S – X V. W. Feng and G. Hirst 2 of 8 Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ B&L evaluated the use of entity grids as a model of local coherence by showing that they can be used to discriminate original news texts from random permutations of the same sentences by learning a pairwise ranking preference between alternative renderings of a document based on the probability distribution of the entity-grid transitions. The model can also improve the performance of a text readability assessment system. Here, we will use entity grids in quite a different manner—not to measure degree of local coherence but rather, assuming the presence of coherence, to look at the different ways in which it is achieved. 3 Local transitions as features for authorship attribution Because the set of transition probabilities forms a feature vector ( for a text, we can investigate it as a possible stylometric feature for authorship attribu- tion. That is, we hypothesize that authors differ in the patterns of local transitions that they use—their tendency to use some types of local transitions rather than others—and that this forms part of an author’s unconscious stylistic signature. We can test this hypothesis by seeing whether we can use these feature vectors to build a classifier to identify authorship. Of course, we are not suggesting that local transitions by themselves are sufficient for high- accuracy authorship attribution. Rather, we are hypothesizing only that they carry information about authorship, which, if correct, is an interesting new stylometric observation. And they could thus be a useful complement to lexical and syntactic fea- tures for attribution. In our experiments below, therefore, we put our emphasis on examining how much authorship information these features carry by themselves in comparison with a simple baseline as well as with traditional lexical and lexico-syntactic features and in combination with such features. Any implementation of entity grids must deal with the question of how entities are identified and tracked through the text. Entity recognition and coreference resolution remain incompletely solved problems in computational linguistics. B&L experimented with two approximations: the use of an imperfect coreference resolution tool (Ng and Cardie, 2002) and a very simple string-matching algorithm. Unsurprisingly, the former gave better results (which was also our experience in our own earlier work with entity grids (Feng and Hirst, 2012)). Accordingly, we use a coreference tool here too (see Section 4.1 below). 4 Experiments 4.1 Data We gathered nineteen works of nine nineteenth- century British and American novelists and essayists from Project Gutenberg; they are listed in Table 2. We split the texts at sentence boundaries into chunks of approximately 1,000 words, regarding each chunk as a separate document by that author; leftovers of fewer than 1,000 words were discarded. The imbalance between different authors in the number of documents for each is corrected by the sampling methods in our experiments (see Section 4.2 below). We applied coreference resolution to each docu- ment, using Reconcile 1.1 (Ng and Cardie, 2002). Reconcile is a learning-based end-to-end corefer- ence resolution system that outputs the entities (noun phrases) and the coreference chains formed by these entities. It achieves F1 scores of 60 to 70 on several coreference benchmark datasets. We then obtained a dependency parse of each sentence of each document to extract the grammatical role of each entity in the text, using the Stanford depend- ency parser (de Marneffe, MacCartney, and Manning, 2006). We could then construct an entity grid and the corresponding coherence feature vector for each document. We took n ¼ 2, that is only transition bigrams, so there are 42 ¼ 16 tran- sition types. But we counted transitions separately for salient entities—those entities with at least two occurrences in a document—and for non-salient entities. In the latter case, only seven of the sixteen transition types—those in which the entity appears in at most one sentence—can occur. For each document, we also extracted a set of 208 low-level lexico-syntactic stylistic features: the Discourse coherence for authorship attribution Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 3 of 8 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ frequencies of the 100 most frequent letter bigrams, of the 100 most frequent letter trigrams, and of the following eight types of function words: prepos- itions, pronouns, determiners, conjunctions, modal auxiliaries, auxiliary verbs (be, have, do), ad- verbs, and to. 4.2 Method We conducted two sets of authorship attribution experiments: pairwise and one-versus-others. In the former, we select two authors and build a clas- sifier that attempts to discriminate them, using either the coherence feature set, the lexico-syntactic feature set, or a combination of both. In the latter, we select one author and build a classifier that at- tempts to discriminate that author from all others in the dataset, again using one or both of the feature sets. The classifier in all experiments was a neural network with one hidden layer. We chose this classifier because it is able to handle non-linear relations among features, and it outperformed some other classifiers, such as decision trees and support vector machines, in our development experiments. Each experiment used five-fold cross-validation, in which one-fifth of the data are chosen as test data and the training data are derived from the other four-fifths. The process is repeated for each one- fifth of the data in turn. To prevent class imbalance, the training data partitions are resampled (specific- ally, oversampled) in each iteration (Estabrooks, Jo, and Japkowicz, 2004) to obtain a balanced distribu- tion in the training set between the two classes— that is, between the two selected authors in the pair- wise experiments and between the selected author and all the others in the one-versus-others experi- ments. If the number of datapoints in one class is markedly fewer than that of the other, this proced- ure (implemented here by the Resample module of the Weka 3.6.8 toolkit (Hall et al., 2009)) replicates datapoints at random until the two classes are ap- proximately equal in size. For pairwise classification, we also oversample the test set in the same way in order to set an appropriate baseline. 4.3 Results 4.3.1 Pairwise classification The results of pairwise classification are shown in Table 3. For each pair of authors, we show macro- averaged classification accuracy for four conditions: using only coherence features, using only traditional lexico-syntactic features, using all features, and, as a baseline, always guessing the author that has the greater representation in the training data. Because of our resampling procedure, the baseline is always close to, but not exactly, 50%, and it will be less than 50% when the more frequent author in the training data is not the more frequent one in the test data. Significant differences between the conditions for each pair of authors are indicated by superscripts (p < :05 in all cases). As expected, the established lexico-syntactic stylometric features give accuracies that are signifi- cantly above the baseline (with one exception: Hawthorne versus Melville, where these features Table 2 The data used in our experiments Text Chunks Anne Brontë Agnes Grey 78 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall 183 Jane Austen Emma 183 Mansfield Park 173 Sense and Sensibility 140 Charlotte Brontë Jane Eyre 167 The Professor 92 James Fenimore Cooper The Last of the Mohicans 156 The Spy 103 Water Witch 164 Charles Dickens Bleak House 383 Dombey and Son 377 Great Expectations 203 Ralph Waldo Emerson The Conduct of Life 67 English Traits 68 Emily Brontë Wuthering Heights 126 Nathaniel Hawthorne The House of the Seven Gables 106 Herman Melville Moby Dick 261 Redburn 27 V. W. Feng and G. Hirst 4 of 8 Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ perform only seven percentage points above base- line, a difference that is not significant because we have relatively little data for Hawthorne). And, as we hypothesized, our coherence features also signifi- cantly exceed the baseline in all cases, showing that these features contain a considerable amount of in- formation about authorship. The combined feature set also significantly exceeds the baseline in all cases. However, there is no consistency or pattern as to the relative performance of the three feature sets. In some cases (denoted by a in the table), such as Dickens versus Anne Brontë, the coherence features outperform the lexico-syntactic features, whereas in others (denoted by b), such as Dickens versus Table 3 Accuracy scores (%) of pairwise classification experiments Austen Charlotte Cooper Dickens Emerson Emily Hawthorne Melville Anne Coherence 78.3 d 73.8 d 88.4 d 83.7 a,d 85.5 d 81.9 a,d 81.0 d 83.9 d Lexico-syntactic 79.4 d 77.7 d 98.1 b,d 78.4 d 90.6 b,d 71.5 d 85.3 d 90.7 b,d Combined 86.7a,b,d 83.1a,b,d 99.1b,d 84.4a,d 90.9b,d 82.6a,d 90.1a,b,d 91.6b,d Baseline 53.3 57.7 53.6 52.5 47.1 48.0 46.9 44.8 Austen Coherence 78.9 d 82.3 d 75.5 d 74.9 d 83.5 d 71.9 d 78.6 d Lexico-syntactic 85.3b,d 97.5b,d 84.1b,d 97.4b,d 86.2d 90.3b,c,d 91.5b,d Combined 91.7a,b,d 97.5b,d 86.4a,b,d 98.3b,d 93.9a,b,d 85.3b,d 90.5b,d Baseline 47.2 49.3 53.6 45.4 45.2 46.1 46.4 Charlotte Coherence 93.2 d 80.6 a,c,d 84.0 d 78.8 a,c,d 84.1 a,c,d 82.9 a,d Lexico-syntactic 92.8d 58.1d 93.3b,d 62.3d 73.7d 76.1d Combined 97.2 a,b,d 77.3 a,d 93.0 b,d 73.4 a,d 77.2 d 83.8 a,d Baseline 53.1 52.8 44.7 47.1 48.1 45.6 Cooper Coherence 81.3d 79.6d 92.9d 73.5d 74.2d Lexico-syntactic 92.8b,d 87.1b,d 93.3d 81.0b,d 84.9b,d Combined 95.3 a,b,d 88.5 b,d 96.6 a,b,d 83.4 b,d 87.7 a,b,d Baseline 53.7 44.6 46.0 46.1 46.0 Dickens Coherence 86.5d 91.1a,c,d 75.2d 79.9d Lexico-syntactic 87.3 d 77.8 d 74.3 d 83.2 b,d Combined 94.3 a,b,d 87.3 a,d 77.6 a,d 85.7 a,b,d Baseline 48.8 49.1 49.6 49.0 Emerson Coherence 97.5d 70.9d 75.6d Lexico-syntactic 97.5 d 80.6 b,d 89.9 b,d Combined 95.1 d 88.8 a,b,d 94.2 a,b,d Baseline 51.5 53.6 51.6 Emily Coherence 78.9 d 94.6 a,d Lexico-syntactic 88.3 b,d 86.0 d Combined 91.1b,d 92.1a,d Baseline 58.3 52.5 Hawthorne Coherence 67.9 a,d Lexico-syntactic 58.5 Combined 72.2a,d Baseline 51.3 aSignificantly better than lexico-syntactic features (p < :05). b Significantly better than coherence features (p < :05). cSignificantly better than combined features (p < :05). dSignificantly better than baseline (p < :05). Discourse coherence for authorship attribution Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 5 of 8 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ Austen, the reverse is true. In a few cases (denoted by c), such as Charlotte Brontë versus Hawthorne, the coherence features also outperform the com- bined feature set, although the converse is more usual. It is perhaps notable that, apart from Hawthorne versus Melville, all the pairs in which coherence features are superior to lexico-syntactic features involve a Brontë sister versus Dickens, Hawthorne, Melville, or another Brontë sister. Generally speaking, however, Table 3 suggests that coherence features perform well but usually not quite as well as lexico-syntactic features, and that the combined feature set usually performs best. We confirm this generalization by aggregating the results for all pairs of authors by taking all predictions for all author pairs as a single set, and reporting accuracy for each set of features. The results, in Table 4, show this stated ordering for accuracy, with significant differences at each step. 4.3.2 One-versus-others classification Unlike pairwise classification, where we are inter- ested in the performance of both classes, in one- versus-others classification we are interested only in a single author class, and hence we can regard the problem as retrieval and report the results using the F1 score of each class under each condition. The results for each author are shown in Table 5, and aggregated results are shown in Table 6. A pat- tern similar to that of pairwise classification is observed. All feature sets perform significantly better than baseline, and the combined feature set is always significantly better than both others. The coherence features perform well, and significantly better than the lexico-syntactic features for Dickens and Charlotte Brontë; in addition, they per- form notably better, albeit not significantly so, for Hawthorne and Emily Brontë. However, in aggre- gation, the lexico-syntactic features are significantly Table 5 F1 scores of one-class classification experiments Author Features F1 Anne Coherence 34.5 d Lexico-syntactic 40.9 b,d Combined 48.0a,b,d Baseline 15.1 Austen Coherence 39.1 d Lexico-syntactic 60.3b,d Combined 65.9a,b,d Baseline 26.3 Charlotte Coherence 37.2 a,d Lexico-syntactic 25.2d Combined 38.0 a,b,d Baseline 16.2 Cooper Coherence 53.8d Lexico-syntactic 73.3b,d Combined 78.0 a,b,d Baseline 25.8 Dickens Coherence 63.8a,d Lexico-syntactic 61.3 d Combined 70.6 a,b,d Baseline 50.7 Emerson Coherence 26.1d Lexico-syntactic 51.9 b,d Combined 61.6 a,b,d Baseline 9.1 Emily Coherence 29.5 d Lexico-syntactic 25.6 d Combined 32.7a,b,d Baseline 7.9 Hawthorne Coherence 17.3 d Lexico-syntactic 14.0 d Combined 21.0a,b,d Baseline 7.2 Melville Coherence 25.9 d Lexico-syntactic 38.2b,d Combined 39.6b,d Baseline 12.1 a Significantly better than lexico-syntactic features (p < :05). b Significantly better than coherence features (p < :05). dSignificantly better than baseline (p < :05). Table 4 Accuracy scores (%) of pairwise classification experiments, aggregated across all authors for each feature set Feature set Acc. (%) Coherence 81.3 d Lexico-syntactic 83.7b,d Combined 88.4a,b,d Baseline 49.8 a Significantly better than lexico-syntactic features (p < :05). bSignificantly better than coherence features (p < :05). dSignificantly better than baseline (p < :05). V. W. Feng and G. Hirst 6 of 8 Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ better than coherence features, and the combined set is significantly better again. 5 Discussion Our experiments show that entity-based local co- herence, by itself, is informative enough to be able to classify texts by authorship almost as well as con- ventional lexico-syntactic information, even though it uses markedly fewer features. And the two types of information together perform better than either alone. This shows that local coherence does not just represent a subset of the same information as lexico-syntactic features, which is not a surprise, given that they focus on different aspects of the text at different levels. On the other hand, given this point, we might expect that the performance of the two feature sets would be independent, and that there would be authorship discriminations that are difficult for one set of features but easy for the other. However, we did not find this; while each had cases in which it was significantly better than the other, the scores for the two feature sets were correlated significantly (pairwise task, r ¼ :3657, df ¼ 34, p < :05; one-versus-others task, r ¼ :7388, df ¼ 7, p < :05). Although in aggregation the combination of lexico-syntactic and coherence feature sets outper- formed both feature sets individually, in a handful of cases, such as Hawthorne versus Austen in Table 3, the combined features obtained lower accuracy than using either lexico-syntactic or coher- ence features alone. We speculate that this is due to potential overfitting on the training data when using the combined feature set, which has a higher dimen- sionality than the other two. 6 Conclusion We have shown that an author’s presumably uncon- scious choices of transition types in entity-based local coherence is a stylometric feature. It forms part of an author’s stylistic ‘signature’, and is in- formative in authorship attribution and discrimin- ation. As a stylometric feature, it differs markedly from the syntactic, lexical, and even character-level features that typify contemporary approaches to the problem: It operates at the discourse level, above that of sentences. Nonetheless, the correlation that we found between the performance of this feature set and the lower-level feature set suggests that there is some latent relationship between the two, and this requires further investigation. We took Barzilay and Lapata’s model very much as they originally specified it. However, there are many possible variations to the model that bear investigation. Apart from the obvious parameter settings—the value of n, the threshold for sali- ence—the ranking of grammatical roles when an entity occurs more than once in a sentence may be varied. In particular, we experimented with a variation that we called ‘multiple-transition mode’ in which each occurrence of an entity in a sentence is paired individually in all combinations. For example, if a specific entity occurs three times, in the roles S, O, and X, in one sentence and then twice, in the roles S and O in the next, then we extract six transition bigrams ([S S], [O S], [X S], [S O], [O O], and [X O]) rather than just the one with the highest priority, [S S]. However, in some of our early experiments, this variation showed little difference in performance from Barzilay and Lapata’s single-transition model, so we abandoned it, as it adds significant complexity to the model. But we suspect that it might be more useful for characterizing authors, such as Dickens, who tend to write very long sentences involving complicated interactions among entities within a single sentence. Table 6 F1 scores of one-class classification experiments aggregated across all authors for each feature set Feature set Acc. (%) Coherence 40.5 d Lexico-syntactic 47.9b,d Combined 56.6a,b,d Baseline 20.0 a Significantly better than lexico-syntactic features (p < :05). b Significantly better than coherence features (p < :05). dSignificantly better than baseline (p < :05). Discourse coherence for authorship attribution Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 7 of 8 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ We see entity-based local coherence as possibly the first of many potential stylometric features at this level that may be investigated. These could in- clude other aspects of repeated reference to entities. The present features consider only identical refer- ents; but an author’s use of other referential rela- tionships such as various forms of meronymy (the car . . . the wheels; the government . . . the minister) could also be investigated. More generally, the set of various kinds of relationships used in lexical chains (Morris and Hirst, 1991) could be tried, but a too-promiscuous set would simply result in almost everything being related to almost everything else. Rather, instead of holding the relationships constant, as in the present approach, one would look for inter-author differences in the patterns of variation in the relationships. Such differences could also be sought in the surface forms of entity corefer- ence across sentences (the author’s choice of definite description, name, or pronoun); these forms are conflated in the present approach. Understanding these kinds of discourse-level fea- tures better may bring new insight to this level of the stylistic analysis of text and the individuation of authors’ style. Acknowledgements This work was supported by the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada. References Barzilay, R. and Lapata, M. (2008). Modeling local co- herence: an entity-based approach. Computational Linguistics, 34(1): 1–34. De Marneffe, M.-C., MacCartney, B., and Manning, C. D. (2006). Generating typed dependency parses from phrase structure parses. Proceedings of the 5th International Conference on Language Resources and Evaluation (LREC 2006), Genoa, 449–54. Feng, V. W. and Hirst, G. (2012). Extending the entity-based coherence model with multiple ranks. Proceedings, 13th Conference of the European Chapter of the Association for Computational Linguistics (EACL-2012), Avignon, France, 315–24. Estabrooks, A., Jo, T., and Japkowicz, N. (2004). A mul- tiple resampling method for learning from imbalanced data sets. Computational Intelligence, 20(1): 18–36. Hall, M., Frank, E., Holmes, G., Pfahringer, B., Reutemann, P., and Witten, I. H. (2009). The WEKA data mining software: an update. SIGKDD Explorations, 11(1): 10–18. Koppel, M., Schler, J., and Argamon, S. (2009). Computational methods in authorship attribution. Journal of the American Society for Information Science and Technology, 60(1): 9–26. Morris, J. and Hirst, G. (1991). Lexical cohesion, the thesaurus, and the structure of text. Computational Linguistics, 17(1): 21–48. Ng, V. and Cardie, C. (2002). Improving machine learning approaches to coreference resolution. Proceedings of the 40th Annual Meeting of the Association for Computational Linguistics (ACL 2002), Philadelphia, 104–11. Stamatatos, E. (2009). A survey of modern authorship attribution methods. Journal of the American Society for Information Science and Technology, 60(3): 538–56. Notes 1 Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, chapter XIV. 2 To be precise: table is the elided surface-form grammat- ical subject of the reduced relative clause of which the passive verb drawn up is the head. 3 The remainder of this section is based in part on ma- terial from Feng and Hirst (2012). V. W. Feng and G. Hirst 8 of 8 Literary and Linguistic Computing, 2013 at U niversity of T oronto L ibrary on A pril 10, 2013 http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ D ow nloaded from http://llc.oxfordjournals.org/ 
work_4zxwfrthmfdfdoy6a4rd2uwad4	----	International Journal of Recent Technology and Engineering (IJRTE) International Journal of Recent Technology and Engineering (IJRTE) ISSN: 2277-3878, Volume-8 Issue-3, September 2019 8185 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319  Abstract: Global warming has been described as “the biggest externality the world has ever seen”. With international policymaking gradually taking into account initiatives to tackle climate change, the idea of putting a price on carbon has also received much acclaim. Pricing carbon, in the form of a carbon tax, was put forward as a policy initiative with the commencement of the Paris Climate Summit of 2015, as such a policy, could address emissions at the sources while being the least intrusive with the lowest burden on taxpayers. India is the third largest emitter of greenhouse gases globally but has also been a pioneer in acknowledging carbon taxes. The government has claimed its high excise duties on petrol and diesel, along with the Clean Environment Cess on coal consumption, to be implicit carbon taxes. Interestingly, while a carbon tax should be linked to carbon emissions, current indirect taxes by the government are not at all linked to them while are mostly used as revenue generating measures or compensating the States as part of GST revenue losses. This paper envisages to examine the case for introducing a carbon tax regime in India vis-à-vis fossil fuel consumption in the economy, with a subsequent determination of a unique carbon tax rate for India. To achieve India’s Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC) targets of Paris Summit, it is imperative that India introduces an explicit carbon tax that links fuel prices to emissions, which can have a cascading effect of reducing their consumption while switching to cleaner fuels as substitutes. Findings from the study indicate that coal faces a minimal tax burden while being the most polluting whereas natural gas faces a high tax burden even though it is cleanest among all. As part of the study, a tax rate has been derived that is expected to act as a policy benchmark and can nudge tax policies in the right way, as switching to a low-carbon economy forms a primary agenda of India, in this era of a hothouse Earth. Keywords: Carbon Tax, Climate Change, Fiscal policy, Social Cost of Carbon. I. INTRODUCTION There was a time when Ralph Waldo Emerson cherished the exquisiteness of nature thoughtfully penning, “Earth laughs in flowers”. Decades later, its significance has become relevant more than ever with forests being desertified, population growing exponentially and the planet getting 1.2 0 C warmer compared to pre-industrial levels with irreversible consequences. Accentuation of the greenhouse effect due to increased anthropogenic interventions and a continuous upsurge in global carbon dioxide (CO2) emissions have brought unwanted changes in the atmosphere endangering the lives of numerous species living within. Taking cognisance of the severity of climate change, the Revised Manuscript Received on September 25, 2019 Unmilan Kalita, Department of Economics, Gauhati University, Assam, India. Email: unmilan.k@gmail.com Nissar Ahmed Barua, Department of Economics, Gauhati University, Assam, India. Email: nissar12@gmail.com international community soon realised that to achieve their ambitious global and national emission reduction objectives, putting a price on carbon is essential for decarbonising the environment [1]. Along with the Carbon Pricing Leadership Coalition (CPLC) of World Bank and the Paris Agreement (COP21), currently there exists more than 40 national carbon pricing agreements and mechanisms implemented across the world, covering approximately 11 gigatons of CO2 equivalent (GtCO2e), representing 20.1% of global GHG emissions [2]. India has been a major stakeholder in the run against climate change since ratification of the UNFCCC in 1994. The National Action Plan for Climate Change (NAPCC) was formally launched in 2008. India also ratified the Paris Agreement in 2015, declaring its Nationally Determined Contribution (NDC) to reduce emission intensity. The present paper entails an examination of the tax measures taken by the Government of India vis-à-vis fossil fuel consumption in India. While analyzing the basis of a carbon tax in the backdrop of its conceptual framework, this paper seeks to determine a carbon tax rate in the context of the challenges that confront the Indian economy. (1) Literature Review Global warming has been described as “the biggest externality the world has ever seen” [3]. Externalities form as a consequence of activities of individuals or industries in the form of greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions that spread across the globe and tend to persist for over a long period of time. International consensus on GHG emissions as negative externalities was observed when the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) in their Fourth Assessment Report (2007) noted that human actions have a probability of 90% or greater to be the cause of global warming. The Paris Summit of 2015 (COP21) marked a turning point for global climate actions when it decided to limit the global temperature rise to well below 1.5 0 C above pre-industrial levels. The Summit concluded with provisions in place for enhanced cooperation among nations with respect to mitigation through marked based approaches. Carbon pricing was put forward as a tool that could “reduce emissions by a magnitude greater than what is possible today” [4]. The original concept of using environmental taxes (carbon tax) to advance social welfare is generally credited to A.C. Pigou’s famous publication, The Economics of Welfare (1920). The concept that he presented is now popularly accepted and applied within the domain of public finance and environmental economics. Such a tax can simply be applied on carbon dioxide emissions (a major GHG) or could be spread across all GHG emissions, including methane emissions [5]. Major design priorities for a carbon tax mechanism includes choosing the appropriate price, emissions coverage, the point of taxation (upstream or downstream), Determining a Carbon Tax Rate for India in the Context of Global Climate Change Unmilan Kalita , Nissar Ahmed Barua Determining a Carbon Tax Rate for India in the Context of Global Climate Change 8186 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 stringency (planned escalation of price over time), the flexibility of the price to change in light of new information on marginal cost of abatement, allocation of revenue generated from the tax towards general public spending or specific emissions-reducing activities, and harmonisation across boundaries beyond the tax jurisdiction [6]. A carbon tax, to be efficient, should cover all sources and be set equal to the marginal benefits of emission reduction, represented by estimates of social cost of carbon [7] [8] estimated that a dozen nations factor in the carbon emissions treating them as externalities whenever they do policymaking analysis. Countries like USA and UK take SCC into account on an ex-ante basis so as to steer policies in a conducive manner with regard to investment decisions. It is imperative to note that although mostly developed nations undertake this practice of calculating social damage, a similar policy in a developing nation like India will immensely assist fiscal and investment policy environment. In India’s context, [9] have observed that an upstream carbon tax at ports, mine-heads, etc., will result in a rise of prices in fuel and energy corresponding to their carbon content. They estimated that a carbon tax of ₹ 2,818 per metric tonne of CO2 will increase the average price of electricity from ₹ 3.73 (current value at the time of the study) to INR 4.67 per kWh. [10] had also vaguely traced a similar pattern as [9]. Regarding distributional impacts of a carbon tax, [11] observed that a carbon tax in India is “mildly progressive” and progressivity is higher in rural sector as compared to urban, and it varies across fuel types. It was found to be regressive for kerosene, but beneficial for LPG. They, however, noted that such effects are still unclear, until further research lights the path. Carbon tax constitutes one of the most effective state interventions to combat climate change. However, this fiscal instrument has failed to find a significant place in Indian public finance intervention. This presents a legitimate case for highlighting strategies on carbon taxation as an effective operational tool against global climate change. (2) Conceptual Framework Earth is considered to be a greenhouse, housing a number of gases such as carbon dioxide (CO2) and methane, also known as greenhouse gases (GHG), in the atmosphere. These gases are the sole reason behind Earth having a mean surface temperature of 33 0 C. If it were not for these gases and the greenhouse effect, Earth’s average temperature would be a chilly -18 0 C [12]. CO2 constitutes a major chunk (81%) of the GHGs that lend the Earth its greenhouse effect. Source: Global Carbon Project, 2018 Figure 1: Annual CO2 emissions from fossil fuel sources in FY 2017-18 With industrialisation and anthropogenic land-use changes over the last two centuries, CO2 has now become the primary cause of global warming. The sources of carbon emissions comprise of desertification, wetland destruction, anthropogenic land use changes, combustion of fuels and so on [13]. From 300 parts per million (ppm) in 1950, CO2 concentration has increased to around 420 ppm in 2019. Source: GHG-platform India Figure 2: Anthropogenic GHG emissions at a global level CO2 and its emissions form the central part of our study as it constitutes more than 75% of global GHG emissions. Therefore, CO2 has been taken as a proxy for overall GHG emissions in our study and a tax rate based on it is derived upon. A possible strategy for mitigating carbon emissions is a carbon tax. Considered as an indirect tax, it is referred to as a price instrument that sets a price on pollution, in general, and carbon emissions, in particular. A C Pigou proposed taxation of the goods (fossil fuels) which were the source of negative externalities (CO2). This was done so as to precisely reflect the cost of the goods’ production to society, thereby internalising the costs associated. Therefore, a carbon tax or Pigouvian tax is a tax on a negative externality which is CO2 in our case. However, it is difficult to determine a tax rate based entirely on Pigou’s idea and needs detailed modelling. The SCC approach is the most popular method of determining carbon prices. It is estimated as the net present value of climate change impacts over the next 100 years (or longer) of one additional tonne of carbon emitted to atmosphere today [14]. It is determined using Integrated Assessment Models (IAM) such as DICE, RICE, PAGE, FUND and so on. (3) Objectives The objectives of the study are: I. To assess carbon emissions in the backdrop of Indian economy II. To examine the existing tax measures implemented by the Government of India to address the emission intensity of CO2 vis-à-vis fuel sources. III. To determine a carbon tax rate for India based on a statistical comparison of global estimates. (4) Methodology The methodology of this paper comprises of a discussion on the carbon emission scenario of India, an assessment of the tax measures taken to mitigate such emissions and a subsequent determination of a carbon tax, based on a comparative analysis of global SCC estimates. The analysis if entirely based on secondary International Journal of Recent Technology and Engineering (IJRTE) ISSN: 2277-3878, Volume-8 Issue-3, September 2019 8187 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 data, collected from international agencies such as UNFCCC and several prominent research works. The statistical interpretation has been done using SPSS v23.0 and Microsoft Excel 2016. II. MATERIALS AND METHODS (1) Carbon emission scenario of India India is the world’s third largest emitter of GHGs, after China and the United States. India is immensely diverse, both in geographical and societal aspects, and is also endowed with rich resources of fossil fuels. As such, relying on a business-as-usual carbon-intensive economic regime has been a norm since the initiation of the era of growth and development after independence. According to a report, titled “CO2 Emissions from Fuel Combustion” of the International Energy Agency, carbon levels in India from fuel combustion have increased from 181 million tonnes (Mt) in 1971 to 2,066 Mt in 2015- a 1,041 per cent increase. India’s carbon emissions majorly result from intensive fossil fuel use in the energy and industrial sector as India is home to a very large population and energy demand is at an all-time high currently. This has led to varied impacts such as unsustainable fuel-use, inefficient land-use, rising automobile usage, dirty coal usage and so on. Source: GHG Platform- India Figure 3: Sector-wise emission intensity of India The energy sector accounts for two-thirds of the total emissions, followed by industrial and agricultural processes. This results from intensive use of conventional fuel sources by the thermal power plants including heavy automobile usage. Evidence points out that this sector emitted nearly 929 million tonnes of CO2 in 2017-18. For the same year, India’s levels were 18% of the total CO2 emitted from all sources in the United States and 20 times more than that emitted in Finland, which has the cleanest air among all nations. Table 1: Sector-wise consumption of fuels in India, FY 2015-16 Fuels Tr an sp ort En er gy Indu stry Agri . M isc . Tota l Fuel Emis sion facto rs CO2/ MBt u Total CO2 emiss ions (%) LPG 17 1 2. 90 1,54 3 7.0 69 0 20,6 32 2,94 0 2,940 Kerosene 0. 0 0. 1 64 0.0 11 3 6,82 6 3,16 5 3,165 High Speed Diesel Oil 71 ,5 14 22 4. 0 2,27 9 630 0. 0 74,6 47 3,21 0 3,210 Crude Oil 38 0. 00 43 0. 0 5,61 6 57.0 0 0. 0 6,48 2 3,22 7 3,227 Petroleum 21 ,8 47 0. 0 0.0 0.0 0. 0 21,8 47 3,10 5 3,105 Bitumen 0. 0. 5,93 0.0 0. 5,93 3,26 3,265 0 0 8 0 8 5 Natural gas 0. 0 27 ,3 40 18,2 00 0.0 0. 0 45,5 40 2,80 8 2,808 Coking Coal 0. 0 0. 0 2,03, 949 0.0 0. 0 20,3 9,49, 000 1,78 2 1,782 Thermal Coal 0. 0 5, 55 ,3 24 37,9 02 0.0 81 ,7 63 67,4 9,89, 000 1,78 2 1,782 Biofuels 0. 0 50 5 0.0 0.0 0. 0 505 0.0 0.0 Biomass 0. 0 0. 0 0.0 0.0 0. 0 3,60 0 0.0 0.0 Total Emissions (sector wise) mtCO2 71 .5 6 31 9. 06 1,06 9.32 584. 73 2. 23 148. 50 2,19 5.40 Source: MPNG, 2017. Table- 1 reflects that different fuels have different emission factors and more importantly, a wide diversity of usage. LPG and natural gas have comparatively lower emission factors as opposed to other sources, but do not have an apt amount of usage in transport, industry and energy sector. Among the petroleum fuels, we see a greater utility mostly in these sectors along with some usage of diesel in agriculture. This is of importance as the whole transportation system of India is based on conventional fuels and agriculture too is dependent on diesel. A similar trend is seen with coal (incl. bitumen) which has the highest emission factor among all other fuels. Coal being a cheap energy input, is widely used in industries and thermal power plants with some amount used by low-income households for energy production. Biofuels and biomass show very less usage and emissions. This is evident from their low level of production and subsequent low contribution in the overall energy mix. With respect to carbon emissions, coal is seen to be contributing the biggest chunk of emissions. This is obvious, given its heavy usage in power sector coupled with its very high emission factor. Diesel and petrol trail behind with the greatest number of emissions which result mostly from usage in the transport and the industry sector. Interestingly, there has not been any decrease of emissions from power plants over the years. A growth of 7.4% CAGR between 2005 and 2013 is observed. Notably, coal-based plant emissions were 51 Mt CO2e in 2005 that increased to 126 Mt CO2e in 2013. In 2018, they emitted approximately 190 Mt CO2e. This clearly shows that emissions have not been decreasing, rather are on an increasing trend. Source: GHG Platform- India Figure 4: Trend of CO2 emissions (from energy sources) in India, FY 2017-18 . Determining a Carbon Tax Rate for India in the Context of Global Climate Change 8188 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 (2) Assessing the Tax Measures Vis-À-Vis Carbon Emissions: In addressing environmental problems, tax instruments have been found to contain significant benefits over other regulatory approaches. This is because, taxation measures not only nudge taxpayers towards paying for a particular good or a service (low-carbon product, in our case) but also generate revenue, which can then be utilised in assisting the production of such goods and services. Surprisingly, there are only two noteworthy measures to tax carbon in India: I. Clean environment cess (CEC): The CEC was imposed as an excised duty on both imported and locally produced coal since 2010 under the Finance Act, 2010. National Clean Energy and Environment Fund (NCEEF) was created for the purpose of financing and promoting clean energy. Initially, the cess was ₹ 50 per tonne which has now been revised to ₹ 400 per tonne. This cess is considered to be an implicit carbon tax (Economic Survey. 2014-15). However, after introduction of GST, the cess proceeds have been diverted to compensating the states for losses in revenue on account of GST implementation. Earlier CEC was implemented by the Central Board of Excises and Customs (CBEC) but now the GST council has taken over it. II. Taxing petrol and diesel: Taxes as excise duties on petrol and diesel are also considered as implicit carbon taxes (Economic Survey, 2014-15). These are intended to deal with not only usage reduction but also congestion costs, noise and local air pollution that damages community health. Interestingly, the government has explicitly stated their objective for using duty proceeds for raising revenue and other macro-economic considerations rather than prevent carbon emissions. With respect to the CEC, statistics suggest that there has been huge diversion of funds allocated to NCEEF towards compensating states due to GST implementation. This is seen to be a gross misallocation of funds as proceeds from a cess should technically be spent on projects that supplemented the cause of the cess. Year Proce eds collect ed Ministr y of New and Renew able Energy (MNR E) Ministry of Water Resource s, River Developm ent and Ganga Rejuv. Minis try of Drink ing Water and Sanita tion Minis try of Envir onme nt & Forest s Total allocat ion 2010-1 1 1,066 0 -- -- -- 0 2011-1 2 2,580 160.8 -- -- 59.95 220.75 2012-1 3 3,053 125.78 -- 110.6 5 10 246.43 2013-1 4 3,472 1,218.7 8 -- -- 0 1,218. 78 2014-1 5 5,393 1,977.3 5 -- 110.6 4 0 2,087. 99 2015-1 6 12,67 6 3,989.8 3 1,000 -- 244.9 7 5,234. 8 2016-1 7 28,50 0 4,272 1,675 -- 955.7 4 6,902. 74 2017-1 8 29,70 0 5,341.7 2,250 -- 1,111. 3 8,703 Total 86,44 0.24 17,086. 24 4,925 221.2 9 2,381. 96 24,614 .49 Source: MNRE, Government of India Table 2- Distribution of proceeds from NCEEF (all figures in ₹ crores) It is evident that only around 25% of proceeds have been channelized to fund projects related to environmental betterment and clean energy. Interestingly, not much data is available related to how successfully the projects have been implemented and what has been the actual outcome in terms of emission reduction. Monitoring, as can be concluded, has remained short of the objectives. Factually, of ₹ 86,440.21 crore collected as cess from 2011-18, only ₹ 20,942.29 crore was transferred to NCEEF. Of this amount, only ₹ 15,911.49 crore went to funding for clean energy projects. This allocation happened under the GST regime. With respect to taxing petrol and diesel, these fuels suffer a very high effective tax burden. This is evident from the table below. Table 3: Tax burden on petrol and diesel Particulars Petrol (₹)* Diesel (₹)** Price excluding taxes and dealer commission 34.19 39.52 Central taxes (incl. excise and customs duty) 18.65 14.57 State taxes (incl. VAT) 15.23 9.77 Dealer commission 3.55 2.50 Price 71.62 66.36 Effective tax burden (%) 99.09% 61% *, **: effective at 01.06.2019 at Delhi Data source: Ready Reckoner, June 2019, PPAC. Petrol and taxes have high tax burdens which is in turn is a good incentive for consumers to reduce consumption of these fuels. Since such tax burden has been referred to as an implicit carbon tax, the proceeds from such taxes should have been used for financing clean fuels or clean energy projects. However, no such data is available and more importantly, the government has claimed these taxes as merely a revenue generating measure. After GST was introduced, most of the fuels have been subsumed under it (including coal) but five petroleum products, namely, petrol, diesel, natural gas, aviation turbine fuel (ATF) and crude oil, has been left out of it. Table 4: Effective tax burdens according to fuel types Sl. No . Fuel type Coverag e under GST Tax burden (%)/ GST rate Emission factor (kg CO2/ MBtu) 1 Petroleum No 90-120 71.30 2 Diesel No 60-90 73.16 3 Natural gas No 0-25 53.07 4 ATF No 14-62 70.90 5 Crude oil No 0-10 74.54 International Journal of Recent Technology and Engineering (IJRTE) ISSN: 2277-3878, Volume-8 Issue-3, September 2019 8189 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 6 LPG Yes 5 (domestic), 18 (non-domestic ) 64.01 7 Kerosene Yes 5 (fertiliser), 18 (non-fertiliser) 72.30 8 Naphtha Yes 18 72.80 9 Coal Yes 5 (+GST compensation cess @ ₹ 400/ton) 95.35 1 0 Petroleum Coke Yes 5 102.10 Source: PPAC As evident from the discussion above, there is no uniform approach towards taxing of fuels in India. For instance, domestic LPG has a lower GST rate than the non-domestic one. More importantly, the tax rates are not linked to the amount of carbon emissions at all. Coal and petroleum coke obviously have the highest emission factors whereas they are taxed at just 5% GST. Interestingly, government’s ability to tax petrol and diesel further is also limited due to their already high tax burden. Such inconsistencies in pricing of fuels and uneven grounds of taxation is bound to reduce the effectiveness of taxation so as to tackle the problem of carbon emissions in India. (3) Determination of the Carbon Tax We have clarified in the first part of the study that we will be conducting a statistical comparison of SCC estimates of India derived on the basis of different models and finally derive a unique tax rate for India. This has been done because standalone SCC calculation is beyond the scope of this study. As such, we have enumerated global SCC (GSCC) estimates pertaining to the DICE 2010, 2013 and 2016 models of William Nordhaus. Additionally, estimates of FUND and PAGE model derived by the IAWG, along with IAWG’s central estimate has been taken. Further, SCC estimate resulting from a prominent meta-analysis of SCC done by [15] has been taken. Table 5 displays the estimates of domestic SCC (DSCC) as per the RICE 2010, RICE 2016 and PAGE 2011 models. Table 5: DSCC as per different models (% of global SCC) Regions RICE 2010, RICE 2016, PAGE 2011 United States 10 15 7 EU 12 15 9 Japan 2 3 na Russia 1 3 na Eurasia 1 5 na China 16 21 11 India 12 9 22 Middle East 10 7 na Africa 11 3 26 Latin America 7 6 11 Other High income 4 3 na Other 12 8 16 Global total 100 100 100 Source: Nordhaus (2016) In the following table, the GSCC estimates have been enumerated, represented in dollars. The estimates for DICE 2013 and DICE 2016 have been listed for the period 2015-2050, as has been estimated by [16]. The underlying idea for this pertains to the increase of carbon taxes in a phased manner. It can be seen that by 2050, an SCC of USD 51.5 (DICE2013) and USD 1006.2 (DICE2016) has been observed. Since DICE 2016 is considered a revised version of 2013, the cost of carbon is evidently higher. It must be noted that the models listed here estimate the SCC values based on different assumptions and scenarios. For ease of computation, the estimates taken here pertain to baseline scenarios. Table 6: GSCC estimates as per different models (USD) Models GSCC (USD) DICE 2010 74 DICE 2013 (2 0 C limit damage) 2015 2020 2025 2030 2050 47.6 60.1 75.5 94.4 51.5 DICE 2016 (2 0 C limit damage) 184.4 229.1 284.1 351.0 1006.2 PAGE 66 74 IAWG-US central estimate 40 Ackerman and Stanton meta-analysis 21 Using the DSCC estimates from table (5) and GSCC estimate from table (6), we have estimated a set of SCC for India in table (7), using the calculation method developed by [16]. It can be observed that the maximum corresponds to DICE 2016 and PAGE 2011, viz., USD 50.40. With respect to DICE 2016 values, for contemporariness, we have only estimated the values pertaining to the years 2015 and 2020. The minimum value corresponds to Ackerman and Stanton and RICE 2016 value. This is because the share of India in total SCC as per RICE 2016 is lower than RICE 2010. Moreover, the original meta-analysis value was very low compared to other models as it is based entirely on other studies and hence, is subject to various inherent underestimations. Determining a Carbon Tax Rate for India in the Context of Global Climate Change 8190 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 Table 7: SCC for India (USD) Given the objective of our study, a specific carbon tax rate has to be obtained from among the set of SCC values estimated in table (7). As such, a set of descriptive statistics has been computed in table (8). It can be seen that the mean for PAGE2011 is highest with 26.16 and RICE2016 is lowest with 10.70. Similarly, median is highest for PAGE2011 while lowest for RICE 2016. The same trend is seen with standard deviation as well. Skewness and kurtosis have similar values across the estimates, and hence can be ignored. Regarding mean and median, [22] notes that if the sample size is large and outliers donot exist, the mean usually provides a reliable measure. In other cases, median often provides a better result compared to the mean. In our dataset, outliers exist and the data set is relatively small. Therefore, it is reasonable that we use the median value for selecting our carbon tax. The data set is complemented by box-plot diagram (figure 5). Table 8: Descriptive statistics Measures RICE2010 PAGE2011 RICE2016 Mean 14.2712 26.1622 10.7028 Median 8.4000 15.4000 6.3000 Std. Deviation 15.02062 27.53647 11.26488 Variance 225.619 758.257 126.897 Skewness 1.788 1.788 1.788 Std. Error of Skewness .687 .687 .687 Kurtosis 3.048 3.050 3.050 Std. Error of Kurtosis 1.334 1.334 1.334 Range 47.52 87.12 35.64 Minimum 2.52 4.62 1.89 Maximum 50.04 91.74 37.53 Percentiles 25 4.2600 7.8100 3.1950 50 8.4000 15.4000 6.3000 75 23.6150 43.2905 17.7098 As regards to the median values derived across the models, one must note the original variations in assumptions in each model [17]. Moreover, when the RICE and PAGE models are compared, RICE emerges as a winner in most counts [18, 19,20, 21. Therefore, as part of this study and also the descriptive statistics, the effective carbon tax rate for India is considered as USD 8.4 or approximately USD 8. Table 9 represents the final prices of energy fuels inclusive of the carbon tax. These estimates have been derived based on current prices and are expected to show the disparity corresponding to prices and their emission intensity. Figure 5: Box Plot of statistical interpretations Table 9: Prices of fuels after application of USD 8 carbon tax (₹) 1 Sl. No. Fuels ₹/ton 1 Natural gas 10787.50 2 LPG 47817.58 3 ATF 28862.53 4 Petrol 72284 5 Crude oil 26618 6 Naphtha 38452 7 Diesel 64904 8 Kerosene 35794 9 Coal 3974 10 Petroleum coke 10274 Models RICE 2010 RICE 2016 PAGE 2011 DICE 2010 8.88 6.66 16.28 DICE 2013 (2 0 C limit damage) 2015 2020 5.409 13.22 5.712 7.212 DICE 2016 (2 0 C limit damage) 22.128 27.50 20.619 50.402 FUND 2.64 1.98 4.84 22.32 16.74 40.92 PAGE 7.92 5.94 14.52 8.88 6.66 16.28 IAWG-US central estimate 4.8 3.6 8.8 Ackerman and Stanton meta-analysis 2.52 1.89 4.62 International Journal of Recent Technology and Engineering (IJRTE) ISSN: 2277-3878, Volume-8 Issue-3, September 2019 8191 Published By: Blue Eyes Intelligence Engineering & Sciences Publication Retrieval Number: C6655098319/19©BEIESP DOI:10.35940/ijrte.C6655.098319 III. FINDINGS AND DISCUSSION India is one of the largest carbon emitters of the world and it is imperative that India takes steps to curb its emission intensity. Taking cue from the above observations, following findings have been arrived at as part of the study. Carbon emissions from thermal power plants have been the maximum contributor to India’s emissions. Natural gas is the cleanest among all fossil fuels but remains the most under-utilised in India. The Clean Environment/Energy Cess on coal (implicit carbon tax) is not linked to carbon emissions at all. This adulterates the underlying objective of a carbon tax. Moreover, natural gas faces a higher tax burden than coal which is not fair as the former is cleanest among all fossil fuels Petrol and diesel presently are subjected to a high tax burden. Moreover, tax rates in the indirect taxation framework are considered with revenue factors rather than emission factors. Of the tax proceeds of ₹ 86,440.21 crore collected as cess during 2011-2018, only ₹ 20,942.29 crore was transferred to NCEEF. Of this amount, only ₹ 15,911.49 crore went to funding for clean energy projects. 1 Computed on 12/07/19; $ 1 = ₹ 68.59 In line with the objective of our paper, estimation of a carbon tax using SCC the approach has concluded in the unique tax rate of USD 8 per tonne of CO2 equivalent. After conversion to Indian rupees, the tax rate equals ₹ 574 per ton of CO2e. Calculating carbon tax inclusive price rates of fuels, it is observed that coal faces a lesser price compared to natural gas. This is unfair given their emission factors, and policymaking should address this issue by removing coal subsidies while streamlining natural gas pricing mechanisms or associated price revisions. The carbon tax rate should cover all sources of fuels and the rate should be linked to carbon emissions. Proceeds from the tax should be deposited in a dedicated fund, say NCEEF, and be used for funding clean energy projects or subsidising low carbon technologies. It can also be implemented as the CEC by enlarging the scope of the cess. It should be noted that cess is a tax on tax and a carbon tax can also be implemented as one, if not as a standalone tax rate IV. CONCLUSION In light of the above discussion, it can be concluded that introduction of a carbon tax within the indirect tax regime at a rate of USD 8 per tonne of carbon and increasing it in a phased manner over the years, will have a significant impact on how India’s policymaking caters to climate change needs. A proper implementation strategy should be designed based on this tax rate. Today, the world leaders on energy initiatives are calling for a carbon dividend policy, which would implement a rising carbon tax and refund the revenue directly to taxpayers. Implementing a carbon tax policy, thus, can propel the nation’s ideals of attaining the utopian state of rising development with a sustainable environment for its inhabitants to live in. Therefore, it is high time for us to acknowledge the fight for preserving the Earth as we know it. REFERENCES 1. https://unfccc.int/process-and-meetings/conferences/past-conference s/paris-climate-change-conference-november-2015/cop-21 (Accessed: 10.8.19) 2. http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/816281518818814423/ 2019-WDR-Report.pdf (Accessed: 27.7.19) 3. Stern, N. (2007) The Economics of Climate Change: The Stern Review”, UK: Cambridge University Press. 4. Department of Economic Affairs, Economic Survey (2014-15). Ministry of Finance, Government of India: New Delhi. 5. https://www.ipcc.ch/2015/ (Accessed: 28.7.19) 6. Alejo, J. R. and Narassimhan, K. (2017) “Carbon Pricing in Practice: A Review of the Evidence”. Centre for International Environment and Resource Policy Review, 21(2): 419-450. 7. https://www.epa.gov/sites/production/files/2016-12/documents/sc_c o2_tsd_august_2016.pdf (Accessed: 10.8.19) 8. Smith, S., and Braathen, N., (2015) “Monetary carbon values in policy appraisal: An overview of current practice and key issues”. OECD Environment Working Papers, no. 92. Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, Paris. 9. Azad, R. and Chakraborty, S. (2019) “The Right to Energy and carbon tax: a game changer in India”. Ideas for India. 10. Shukla, P. R., (1997) “Carbon taxes and India”. Energy Economics, 19 (3): 289-325. 11. Rathore, P. and Bansal, S. (2014) “Distributional Effects of Adopting Carbon Tax in India: An Economic Analysis”. Review of Market Integration: SAGE journal. 12. https://public.wmo.int/en (Accessed: 11.8.19) 13. https://www.epa.gov/(Accessed: 15.8.19) 14. http://www.oecd.org/economy/outlook/ (Accessed: 12.8.19) 15. Ackerman, F. and Stanton, E.A. (2010) “The social cost of carbon”. Real World Economics Review, 53: 129-143. 16. Nordhaus, W. (2016) “Revisiting the social cost of carbon.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 201609244. 17. Metcalf, G., (2017) Paying for Pollution. Oxford University Press: United Kingdom. 18. Murray, B., William A., and Reichert, C. (2016) "Increasing Emissions Certainty Under a Carbon Tax." Duke University: Nicholas Institute for Environmental Policy Solutions, Durham, NC. 19. Hafstead, M., Metcalf, G.E. and Williams, R. (2016) "Adding Quantity Certainty to a Carbon Tax: The Role of a Tax Adjustment Mechanism for Policy Pre-Commitment." Resources For the Future, Washington, DC. 20. Horowitz, J., Cronin, J., Hawkins, H., Konda, L. and Yuskavage, A. (2017) "Methodology for Analyzing a Carbon Tax." US Department of the Treasury, Washington, DC. 21. Aldy, J. E., (2017) "Long-Term Carbon Policy: The Great Swap." The Progressive Policy Institute, Washington, DC. 22. Holt, M.M. and Scariano, S.M. (2017) “Mean, Median and Mode from a Decision Perspective”, Journal of Statistics Education, 17(3). DOI: https://doi.org/10.1080/10691898.2009.11889533 AUTHORS PROFILE Nissar Ahmed Barua Professor, Department of Economics, Gauhati University, Assam, India. Email: nissar12@gmail.com Unmilan Kalita Research Scholar, Department of Economics, Gauhati University, Assam, India. Email: unmilan.k@gmail.com https://unfccc.int/process-and-meetings/conferences/past-conferences/paris-climate-change-conference-november-2015/cop-21 https://unfccc.int/process-and-meetings/conferences/past-conferences/paris-climate-change-conference-november-2015/cop-21 http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/816281518818814423/2019-WDR-Report.pdf http://documents.worldbank.org/curated/en/816281518818814423/2019-WDR-Report.pdf https://www.ipcc.ch/2015/ https://www.epa.gov/sites/production/files/2016-12/documents/sc_co2_tsd_august_2016.pdf https://www.epa.gov/sites/production/files/2016-12/documents/sc_co2_tsd_august_2016.pdf https://public.wmo.int/en https://www.epa.gov/ http://www.oecd.org/economy/outlook/ https://doi.org/10.1080/10691898.2009.11889533 
work_56vxd7clkfd63go3efowuswneq	----	MATERIAL MATTERS Advanced Materials Development-How Do We Define Success? David M. Schuster and Michael D. Skibo How do we define success for a busi- ness based on a new or advanced materi- al? This is a simple question, but one which does not appear to have a simple answer. One possible response is: The investment must produce a salable prod- uct that can be sold at a price and quanti- ty sufficient to bring a satisfactory return on investment (ROI). Unfortunately, that definition is of little help in choosing investment opportunities in new materi- als development. ROIs are not forecasts; they are computed after the fact. Any attempt to forecast an ROI is, at best, a wild guess. As engineers and scientists, we want to believe that a true technical break- through will practically ensure commer- cial success. This is, however, far from true. In the past 10 years, hundreds of patents have been awarded for promis- ing new materials exhibiting properties superior to those already in existence. Few are being used and still fewer can be considered to be commercial successes. The real success of an important techno- logical advance, as we have learned from experience, depends as much on entre- preneurial strategy, marketing ingenuity, and price competitiveness as on the inno- vation itself. The investment must produce a salable product. Furthermore, advanced materials are even more difficult to commercialize and market than most other new products because in many cases your customers are not the end-users. The initial cus- tomers are the semi-fabricators of basic product forms; their customers, in turn, are the fabricators of end-use items, and their customers are the ultimate con- sumers or end-users who create the product demand. Consumers must be made aware of performance improve- ments, cost effectiveness, and other advantages your product offers—or there will be no demand. The Metal Matrix Composite Story As an example, let us consider the development and commercialization of metal matrix composite (MMC) materi- als, in which we have been involved for many years. In particular, let us look at the evolution of a low-cost ingot metal- lurgy approach to producing them. We realized in 1982 that the barrier to commercializing MMCs was not only technical but also economic, and we began a small development program at Science Applications International Cor- poration (SAIC) in San Diego, California. We believed that if MMCs could be made cheaply, they might become significant substitutes for other materials. We began developing a molten metal mixing process to introduce ceramic particles into liquid aluminum. During the first three years, we developed procedures, applied for patents, and started making plans for scaling up the process. We call this the invention stage. Although early technical efforts were successful, SAIC could not provide the large amount of funding needed to obtain the economies of scale necessary for major reductions in the cost of manu- facturing the composite. By 1985 we decided to offer the technology to major metal producers who had the resources to commercialize it on a large industrial scale. Recognizing the advantages of the MMC (see Table), Alcan Aluminum Corporation purchased the technology I Material Matters is a forum for expressing personal points of view on issues of interest to the materials community. from SAIC, and we launched into the next stage of development, i.e., scale-up and cost reduction of the process. Acquisition by Alcan provided the extensive resources needed for the ingot- metallurgy MMC technology. Plans were made to construct a pilot plant capable of producing 1,500-pound batches of MMC. And then, late in 1987, Alcan made the bold decision to construct a production plant with an annual capacity of 25 mil- lion pounds. Major industrial capacity for producing an MMC (called Duralcan Composite) would finally be realized. This laid the foundation for the applica- tion identification and development stage. The next two years were spent build- ing the production plant, refining process technology, producing small quantities of material from the pilot plant to help seed the market, and developing semi- fabrication processes, scrap handling practices, ceramic particulate supply sources, specific market applications, and more. Toward the end of that period, Duralcan USA began to market the com- posite through person-to-person, face-to- face sales. They decided against launch- ing a broad advertising and promotional campaign to tell other potential users about the advantages and availability of Duralcan. After two years of this type of promotion, only two or three small com- mercial applications of Duralcan were in production and a handful more were under consideration. Although there was no shortage of interest in the composite, the difficulties associated with introduc- ing the composite into industries unfa- miliar with these types of materials had been underestimated. The importance of educating the designers, other end-users, and also semifabricators about the prop- erties and characteristics of MMCs had not been understood. By April 1990 the production plant was commissioned. Duralcan USA, con- cerned with what they interpreted as Properties of Cast Aluminum Composites as Compared to Unreinforced Aluminum • Higher elastic modulus (stiffness) • Higher strength • Lower coefficient of thermal expansion • Improved wear resistance • Increased thermal conductivity (in high-silicon foundry composites) Like aluminum, cast aluminum composites can be recycled and/or reclaimed. Their fabrication methods—casting, extrusion, forging, rolling, machining, etc.—are consistent with the exist- ing manufacturing base. MRS BULLETIN/DECEMBER 1993 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:23, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 https://www.cambridge.org/core OURCE LLERS MKS Instruments, Inc. offers accurate, reliable and repeatable Vapor Source Mass Flow Controllers which meter and contro vapors from liquid or solid sources MKS 1150 Series pressure-based flow controllers eliminate carrier gas delivery systems and their associated inaccuracies. Designed for use with processing system pressures below lOTorr, 1150 Series Controllers can be operated at temperatures up to 150°C. MKS Applications Engineers will help you to select a model that fits your systems requirements. Call us at (800) 227-8766 for assistance. MKS 'The Baratron® People" Six Shattuck Road Andover, MA 01810 (800) 227-8766 © 1992 MKS Instruments, Inc. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:23, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 https://www.cambridge.org/core MATERIAL MATTERS insurmountable problems associated with developing many small commercial applications, made a strategic decision to focus marketing mainly on automotive applications, primarily brake rotors and drive shafts. Markets other than automo- tive were considered secondary and were to be pursued only after automotive acceptance of Duralcan MMC was assured. Unfortunately, the introduction of new materials for automotive applica- tions is a long, slow process requiring test after test before approval, and large- scale secondary fabrication technology must be developed and proved long before actual production begins. The understanding that might have been gained through the commercialization of small, less price-sensitive applications would not be available to guide the auto- motive thrust. Technical achievement is not enough. To date, Alcan has spent well over $100 million on commercialization and application development of Duralcan MMCs, and more will be required before the automotive industry accepts it. The goals, of course, are application of the material on a massive scale and retention of a major market share. This industrial utilization stage of materials development (i.e., to obtain and hold market share, which MMCs have yet to reach) will nat- urally go to companies able to deliver the highest quality and lowest cost materials. The development of MMCs illustrates the stages through which new materials must progress. These stages—invention, scale-up and cost reduction, application identification and development, and industrial utilization—need not be dis- tinct. Indeed it is preferable that there be overlap and simultaneous pursuit, but they all must occur for materials devel- opment to succeed. The MMC story is still unfolding. We recently formed a new company, MC-21, Incorporated (Metallic Composites for the 21st Century) to identify, develop, and facilitate new applications for MMCs. We believe there is a large oppor- tunity for those who can deliver MMCs for commercial uses such as high-speed computer parts, recreational equipment (e.g., bicycle components) and a wide variety of yet-to-be-identified applica- tions. We intend to bridge the technical gap between the production of primary MMC ingot and billet and the secondary fabrication and end-use, thereby facilitat- ing the application of the composite in commercial products. As new applica- tions are developed for the composite, designers will have greater confidence in specifying MMCs. For more than 25 years the industry as a whole has viewed MMCs as promising advanced materials, capable of providing properties not attainable in common engineering mate- rials. These composites are finally avail- able at prices that allow production of cost-effective finished products. What Then Is Success? It seems clear that, above all, any new business must produce a salable product. Technical achievement, no matter how important, is not enough. There are countless examples of widely acclaimed technological advances which have been commercial failures. So, the product must be new. It must also be significantly different from prod- ucts already available. It must offer the buyer some meaningful advantage. It must have the potential to bring a future cash flow, the present value of which must be significantly greater than the cost of the investment. Even then, commercial success is not assured. There really is not an easy way to predict success. At best, each investment is an educated guess. There is no way to determine beforehand whether a new development, no matter how promising, will be art eventual commercial winner. The most promising are likely to require longer investment streams to exploit their potential. The greater the promise, the longer profitability is likely to be post- poned. Careful analysis and study of a potential opportunity will increase the probability of success, but there is no way to eliminate risk. Even after a new prod- uct is successfully introduced, there is always the chance it will be copied or leap-frogged by another product. So success depends on more than just investment in a good idea. It requires conviction and speed. It requires early recognition of the product's potential. It requires early commitment to the invest- ments required to obtain and hold mar- ket share. It also requires an understand- ing that the easiest, most rewarding way to acquire market share is to grab it early, to be the leader. It was Ralph Waldo Emerson who first suggested, "Build a better mousetrap, and the world will beat a path to your door." He didn't know what he was talking about. The world will not beat a path to your door. The world must be made aware of the advantages and availability of your product. It takes intelligent, imagi- native advertising and promotion, and hard selling. For new materials, it means you have to inform, educate, and excite not only the potential end-users, but also the semi-fabricators. It means that you must have a pricing policy that makes your product cost effective when com- pared to the materials you hope to replace. The problem is much like the problem faced by the Pittsburgh Reduction Company (Alcoa's forerunner) when it tried to introduce aluminum more than 100 years ago. It took five years to per- suade an iron kettle manufacturer to try making kettles out of aluminum. They couldn't just sell aluminum as they want- ed. They first had to produce aluminum kettles and other products themselves to get others interested. For MMCs and other new materials to be widely accepted, we may have to do much the same thing. New or advanced materials can affect the way people work and live. They can also improve the competitiveness of any nation's commercial products. However, Success requires conviction and speed. these benefits can accrue only if the mate- rials can be commercialized and applied, and if end-products can be manufactured from them profitably. We, perhaps more than anyone else, are convinced of the immense commer- cial potential of metal matrix composites. In a way it may be inappropriate to mea- sure the success of such a large, long- term development as MMCs on the basis of return on investment to any one com- pany. Perhaps a better measure of com- mercial success of MMCs will come when every potential user is aware of the advantages of these materials, and when the only decision to be made is which composite should be used in a given application. David M. Schuster and Michael D. Skibo are currently with MC-21, Incorporated (Metallic Composites for the 21st Century) San Diego, California. They formerly worked together at Alcan Aluminum Corporation's Duralcan USA Division, Science Applications International Corporation (SAIC), and Sandia National Laboratories, and have spent essentially their entire profes- sional careers developing and applying advanced materials, especially metal matrix composites. MRS BULLETIN/DECEMBER 1993 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:23, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400038987 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_5q52ahkw6ve4vhvthyrisrnz5y	----	Transcendentalism and Chinese Perceptions of Western Individualism and Spirituality religions Article Transcendentalism and Chinese Perceptions of Western Individualism and Spirituality Sikong Zhao 1,* and Ionut Untea 2 ID 1 Institute of Philosophy, Shanghai Academy of Social Sciences, 1610 West Zhongshan Road, Shanghai 200235, China 2 School of Humanities, Department of Philosophy and Science, Wenke Building A, Jiulonghu Campus, Southeast University, Nanjing 211189, China; untea_ionut@126.com or 108109055@seu.edu.cn * Correspondence: zhaosikong@126.com or zhaosikong@sass.org.cn; Tel.: +86-021-64862266 Received: 3 July 2017; Accepted: 16 August 2017; Published: 22 August 2017 Abstract: The article presents essential aspects of the intellectual debates in China over the theoretical achievement of Transcendentalism to generate a conception of individualism that bears the mark of Confucian and Daoist influences. The peculiar profile of the Transcendentalist individual avoids western dimensions that have been perceived in China as overindividualistic. Therefore, the inquiry over Transcendentalism opens up the intellectual debates on how traditional Confucian and Daoist teachings may be used also in China to bring about a renewed conception of the self and the individual’s life in social relationships that would be closer to a modern understanding of individualism. The Chinese problematization of the value of the individual in Chinese traditional culture sheds light on the non-western debates regarding cultural renewal. Keywords: transcendentalism; individualism; humanism; Confucianism; Daoism; over-soul; vast-flowing vigor; comprehensive thinking; cultural renewal 1. Introductory Remarks The connection operated by Transcendentalist thinkers between individualism and Chinese religions, has been acknowledged in western scholarship, although to a limited extent. One of the major causes of this limitation consists in the way the content of Asian religions has been appropriated by leading figures of Transcendentalism. As Arthur Versluis observes, Ralph Waldo Emerson read “countless” books emanating from the “Oriental” cultural space (Versluis 1993, p. 77). Given this “assimilation” of elements of Vedanta, Confucianism, and other “myths and ethical injunctions” from India, Persia, and China, the scholar’s task to isolate the influence of one particular system of thought on the leading Transcendentalist thinker becomes an overcomplicated task: “so intertwined are these ‘influences’ on Emerson, and so much does he make them his own, that it is almost impossible to say where ‘Emerson’s thought’ begins and his reinterpretation of Vedantic, Confucian, and other like currents ends” (Versluis 1993, p. 77). Versluis’s interpretation is that what made possible this assimilation of the rich sources into one coherent whole was Emerson’s “sense of contemporaneity with all ages”, and his “attempted transcendence of temporal and cultural boundaries” (Versluis 1993, pp. 78–79). It is in this aspect that Versluis identifies a common perspective in Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau in dealing with the rich thesaurus of the “Orient”: “for both of them sought to return to origins, emphasizing inspiration and ignoring cultural context and ritual” (Versluis 1993, pp. 78–79). What distinguishes the two, in Versluis’s opinion, is the way they make use of this heritage: on the one hand Emerson advances toward a path that Versluis calls “literary religion”, that is a way “to return to origins intellectually”, while Thoreau’s approach was “to live”, to experience this literary religion in practice: “Walden is an experiment in literary religion made actual” (Versluis 1993, pp. 78–79). Religions 2017, 8, 159; doi:10.3390/rel8080159 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0003-2336-1389 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8080159 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 159 2 of 12 It is significant that both Emerson’s and Thoreau’s perspectives are connected by Versluis’s interpretation via a sense of atemporality and what may be called ideals of universal acculturation, since this opens up possibilities for an intercultural interpretation that is not led by a western-centered view. Nevertheless, an orientation toward a closer analysis of the Asian elements in Emerson’s and Thoreau’s Transcendentalism and a wider perspective, beyond the field of studies in western literature, seems to be discouraged by views that Emerson “came to Asian religious texts with a Platonist bent”, or that both Emerson and Thoreau came rather with a literary interest toward these sources (Versluis 1993, p. 78). The present article explores the approaches emanating from Chinese scholarship emerging in early 1990s—at about the same period that Versluis’s monograph was published in the west—up to contemporary times, in order to show Chinese scholars’ interest for what they saw as an essential point where Transcendentalism had exerted an essential influence on American culture precisely under the impression left on its illustrious thinkers by traditional elements of Chinese culture. As we will argue, this essential point was the peculiar new face of the individualism that Emerson and Thoreau inserted into the American conception of the Enlightenment individual. Versluis indeed acknowledges the influence of Confucianism on the forging of Emerson’s and Thoreau’s perspectives on the individual, and his relationships within society, or the influence of Daoism on Thoreau’s conception on the relationship between the individual and nature. For instance, he remarks that Thoreau wrote in the first chapter of Walden that “the ancient philosophers, Chinese, Hindoo, Persian and Greek” lived “a more simple and meager life than the poor”, and that no other class in history has been “poorer in outward riches”, or “so rich in inward” (Thoreau 1989, p. 14). Versluis appreciates that the order chosen by Thoreau is “no accident”, since Confucianism and the Laws of Manu had “the most to do with daily life” (Versluis 1993, p. 84). Moreover, Thoreau’s project of living close to nature at Walden pond “closely parallels” the “love for and absorption into nature” as cultivated by Daoism (Versluis 1993, p. 93). At the same time, Versluis believes that “Confucianism reinforced Emerson’s emphasis on the moral imperative for every individual”, and that “the Confucian ideal of the ethical, solitary, learned, and decorous man” actually reinforced Emerson’s “sense of himself in the face of all the retreats from society in which the other Transcendentalists engaged” (Versluis 1993, p. 70). Indeed, reacting to his fellow Transcendentalists’ projects of getting closer to nature, Emerson puts forth “the Confucian ideal of the decorous and urbane scholar who refuses to leave society but seeks to perfect his relations with mankind” (Versluis 1993, p. 71). This view on a “solitary” personality, but nevertheless engaged in an active relationship either with nature, or with other individuals in society, places not only Transcendentalist individualism as a particular positioning of human personality in the context of natural and social environments, but also brings together Confucian and Daoist perspectives in ways unexplored in Chinese tradition. This is the aspect that incites the most the Chinese scholarship on Transcendentalism. Beyond the question of the degree of influence of Chinese traditional culture and religion on the minds of the leading representatives of Transcendentalism, the peculiar position of Chinese scholars, emerging from the 1990s onwards, has been to advance toward a twofold perception of Transcendentalist individualism: on the one hand, to produce a theoretical perspective on the transformations of the American individualism under the influences of the Transcendentalism’s conception of the self that owes to the Chinese traditional culture and religion; on the other hand, to explore the possibilities of a renewed sense of individualism and the self in the late twentieth-century and early twenty-first century Chinese society. As we will argue, this renewed individualism might be accomplished, according to the Chinese scholars Qian Mansu, Chen Changfang, Ni Feng, Xie Zhichao, Fang Hanwen and Xu Wen via a greater reception and awareness of the impact of Confucianism and Daoism on the western cultural model of individualism. This peculiar reception of Transcendentalism is not exclusively connected with literary studies, but also shows an opening toward cultural communication, a reinterpretation of Chinese political culture or religious traditions, and the ideal of a renewed understanding of a revolutionary self-cultivation. Religions 2017, 8, 159 3 of 12 We chose to open this article with a first section dedicated to what appears, in our view, as three basic points of departure of the inquiries in Chinese scholarship about the theoretical connection between Transcendentalist individualism and Chinese traditional culture. The first point relates to Transcendentalist emphasis on the inner independence of the individual, that owes to the influence of Confucianism and Daoism; the second shows this independence as always connected to the social or natural environment of the individual; the third consists in the relative agreement of the Chinese scholars that Transcendentalist use of the Chinese view on the self remains significant for contemporary Chinese debates centered upon individualism. The second section deals with the way a central concept in Emerson’s thought, the over-soul, has been compared with the traditional concept of “vast-flowing vigor”. The aim of this inquiry consisted in showing how Chinese scholars reacted to a western concept forged under the influence of Chinese, and other Asian elements, together with western concepts. We found that the Chinese scholars’ interest in drawing parallelisms between the over-soul and vast-flowing vigor has been fruitful, prompting reflections on western terms like “incarnation”, “love”, and “trinity”, and deepening the Chinese scholars’ interest in a version of Transcendentalist individualism that would avoid what they perceived as an overindividualistic American culture. In the third section we focused on Chinese scholars’ critical views addressed to traditional elements of Confucianism and Daoism, and their inquiry on the theoretical possibilities of such traditional elements to make possible the emergence of a renewed Chinese perspective on the self and individual life that would be more compatible with a modern conception of the individual. From this point of view, the Transcendentalist model of the individual generated under the influence of Daoist and Confucian elements serves as an intellectual precedent for the Chinese scholars in search of a stricter individualist interpretation of the traditional views of the self. Qian Mansu’s perspective on “comprehensive thinking” represents one of the more detailed arguments, aiming at transgressing the boundaries of a strictly moral interpretation of the self, and advancing toward a wider cultural acceptance of the value of the individual in the Chinese political and social spheres. 2. Individual Life in Social Relationships In this preliminary part we illustrate how Chinese scholars acknowledge what is already known in western scholarship about the connection between Transcendentalism’s peculiar conception of individualism and the influences of Chinese traditional culture. Nevertheless, if the point of departure is the common ground of the western and Chinese interpretations about the fruits of the importation of Chinese elements in the overall Transcendentalist conception of the individual, the Chinese scholars display a willingness to explore how their reading of the Transcendentalist individual feeds back into the contemporary intellectual representations of the Chinese traditional culture. There are three preliminary points in which a view on Transcendentalist individualism emerges throughout Chinese scholarship. There are, of course, different intensities, given by different scholars, to each of these points, but their similarity of understanding of Transcendentalist individualism determined us to place the three points as foundational for the further development of the analysis. The first point is the Transcendentalist emphasis on a certain independence emanating from the self, but a kind of independence that, under the influence of Confucianism and Daoism, gives rise to a self-cultivation in all simplicity of life and connection to nature. Already in 1993, the year of the publication of Arthur Versluis’s American Transcendentalism and Asian Religions, the Chinese scholar Ni Feng appreciates that, in virtue of the connection with the Chinese religion and culture, Thoreau placed a high emphasis on the destiny and the freedom of the “independent individual” (独立个体, dú lì gè tı̆) (Ni 1993, p. 110). A few years later, Qian Mansu connects Emerson’s and Thoreau’s conception on individualism with the Confucian and Daoist “idealized” (理想化, lı̆ xiăng huà) poverty. She states that, if Emerson manifested an admiration for this state of mind of poverty in Chinese culture, Thoreau actually went out to experience the Confucian idea by living in Walden (Qian 1996, pp. 74–75). The independence of the self gained a high visibility in the Transcendentalist reading of traditional Religions 2017, 8, 159 4 of 12 Chinese elements, according to Xie Zhichao, due to Emerson’s and Thoreau’s interest in the individual’s “intuition” (直觉, zhí jué) and “sensibility” (感悟, găn wù) (Xie 2007, p. 9). The second point is the peculiar depiction of the individual’s independence always in intimate connection with her or his milieu, be it nature or society. When speaking about the “independent individual” in Thoreau, Ni Feng considers that this independence remains conciliated, in Thoreau’s thought, with the social and natural environment (Ni 1993, p. 110), while Qian sees this kind of connection between individual and milieu as the expression of Emerson’s appeal to the Confucian Golden Rule: Never impose on others what you would not choose for yourself” (“己所不欲，勿施于 人”, jı̆ suŏ bù yù, wù shı̄ yú rén) (Qian 1996, p. 120). When talking about intuition and sensibility in Emerson and Thoreau, Xie puts them in direct relationship with the individual’s “soul” (灵魂, líng hún), which is never isolated from reality. Because of this, “the influence of transcendentalism on American culture is very close to the influence of Confucianism on Chinese culture” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 9). According to Xie, it is the influence of the Confucian conception of “vast-flowing vigor” (浩然之气, hào rán zhı̄ qì) on Emerson’s idea of virtue that leads to the Transcendentalist conclusion that the individual’s self-cultivation cannot be isolated from others (Xie 2007, p. 8). Xie’s interpretation also leads to the third point that we chose to briefly emphasize in this preliminary part, since he appreciates that Thoreau did adopt the conviction of the importance of self-cultivation, and maintained that “a man with good self-cultivation pursues truth, believes in justice and cares about others” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 8). This third point introduces the Chinese scholars’ opinion that the study of western Transcendentalist individualism feeds back into the way traditional values are reinterpreted within the Chinese society at large, thanks to a fruitful Chinese reinterpretation of individualism within the framework of a cultural dialogue. Xie alludes to the Confucian idea that “personality is bound to be perfect” (人格必将完善, rén gé bì jiāng wán shàn), and to the ideal of the individual’s state of “self-governance and self-consciousness” (自治自觉, zì zhì zì jué) (Xie 2007, p. 8). He sees in this aspect a close correspondence with Emerson’s and Thoreau’s conviction “that man is the inseparable part of nature, nature is man’s teacher and friend” and their advocating of the “sublime human spirit and perfect morality in nature” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 9). This is always seen in Confucianism as an active orientation toward bettering the surrounding human and natural environment, an attitude which in modern interpretation might resonate well with ideas of progress and reform. Well before Xie’s article, Ni Feng had expressed a clearer commitment toward a conception of an individual that would reflect both western and Chinese aspirations: “[t]he real power of a society or a country is to solve the problems of this society or country by individuals” [authors’ translation] (Ni 1993, p. 110). Nevertheless, Qian Mansu expresses the strongest intellectual stance of this individualistic ideal: “In the first half of 19th century, in America, Emerson launched a revolution in ideas—his new measure of evaluating everything is the alive soul of the individual person” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 1). The connection between the “alive soul” (活的灵魂, huó de líng hún) and the independent self-development of the individual is so strongly depicted by Qian, that she goes on to assert that “a person can make a contribution to society at least by making oneself into an ‘individual’, reach the standard of capital ‘Man’, develop people’s potentiality of mind and morality, and even have a little Transcendental consciousness. This is the purpose of Emerson’s Transcendentalism” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, pp. 235–36). The last part of the sentence is striking, and reveals the aspect of a returning influence, on the intellectual understanding of Confucian Chinese contemporary values by Transcendentalism, a system of thought that had been originally constructed with traditional Confucian ideas. Moreover, she adds that Emerson, in spite of his admiration for the Confucian attitude to morality and self-cultivation, could not accept the Confucian view on hierarchy. That is why, Qian believes, while producing a new type of individualism within the American culture, Emerson also “refreshes the essence of Confucianism” (“复活了儒家思想中的精华”, fù huó le rú jiā sı̄ xiăng zhōng de jı̄ng huá) [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. ii). Religions 2017, 8, 159 5 of 12 The three points briefly presented above make appear, in essence, many facets of the intricate connections between the Chinese traditional values and the Transcendentalist understanding of individualism. What follows is an exploration of a number of more detailed critical inquiries dedicated by certain Chinese scholars to specific aspects of the relations between Transcendentalist individualism and contemporary intellectual representations of the Chinese traditional culture. 3. The Vast-Flowing Vigor and the Over-Soul One of the key elements that link Transcendentalism to the Chinese traditional cultural heritage remains Emerson’s concept of “over-soul”. Although Emerson’s over-soul contains indeed elements from multiple religious and philosophical traditions from both the East and the West, like Hindu, Chinese, Buddhist, Judeo-Christian, Greek Philosophy, and even from later philosophies like that of Emanuel Swedenborg or Friedrich Schelling (Dilworth 2010, p. 206), the aspect that drew the Chinese scholars’ attention remained its connection to a way of expressing a kind of individualism that resonates well with contemporary representations of Chinese traditional culture. As Tiffany K. Wayne appreciates, the concept of over-soul indeed contributes to the forging of Emerson’s “true individualism and originality of thought”, as this individualism emerges, as Emerson indicates in his essay “The Over-Soul”, through “ the influx of the Divine mind into our mind” (Wayne 2006, p. 205; Emerson 2009, p. 203). In trying to represent the ecstatic experience of the “individual consciousness of that divine presence”, Emerson uses terms like “submission” (Emerson 2009, p. 200) and “obedience” (Emerson 2009, p. 202), which receive nevertheless their full liberatory meaning at the light of phrases like “joyful perception”, “enthusiasm”, or “consciousness” (Emerson 2009, p. 203). They are meant to rehighlight a revelation of the over-soul that can only be an “individual’s experience” (Emerson 2009, p. 203), and not one of a blind obedience in rituals dictated by official religious institutions. It is only after breaking with the god of tradition that God may “fire the heart with his presence” (Emerson 2009, p. 207). Emerson insists thus upon cultivating the individualistic experience of the divine, especially during “our lonely hours”, when “the soul gives itself, alone, original and pure, to the Lonely, Original and Pure” (Emerson 2009, p. 208). The over-soul that “both guides and is changed by humankind”, being understood as a “human force that replaces a belief in God or the supernatural” (Wayne 2006, p. 205), has received particular attention in Chinese scholarship for several parallelisms that might be distinguished between some given facets of the over-soul and traditional Chinese concepts. For instance, Qian Mansu compares Laozi’s “Dao” with Emerson’s “over soul” and finds the following common aspects: “they are both all-inclusive, being-in-itself and being-for-itself, transcendental and perfect; they are both source and end of all things” (Qian 1996, p. 68). Fang Hanwen and Xu Wen also argue that there is a close parallelism between the concept of the over-soul and neo-Confucian concepts of Li (理) and Qi (气), as Li expresses soul’s communication between man, nature and God, while Qi is the essence of Heaven and Earth and “the meaning of individual life” (Fang and Xu 2014, pp. 165–66). Nevertheless, the one who initiates, already in 1991, a closer analysis of the core concept of over-soul is Chen Changfang, who evaluates the influence of the Confucian concept of “vast-flowing vigor” (浩然之气, hào rán zhı̄ qì) on Emerson’s thinking. Chen displays a critical reading of Emerson’s over-soul by comparing the Transcendentalist concept with Mencius’s vast-flowing vigor. He argues that the influence of the vast-flowing vigor on Emerson’s thought modeled Emerson’s view on an invisible spiritual power, but this influence was manifested upon a mind already bearing the mark of the western Christian heritage: “This metaphor of invisible spiritual power is exactly the certain incarnation of God and also the controlling power of different religions, e.g., ‘love’ in Christianity” (Chen 1991, p. 6). Chen emphasizes that “incarnation” and “love” have been placed in key points by Emerson, a gesture that actually transforms the original Confucian vision of the vast-flowing vigor. Chen’s critical reading reveals both commonalities and differences between the Chinese and the American concepts. The common characteristics may be identified in: the perspective of a peculiar individualism, allowing any individual who develops the Religions 2017, 8, 159 6 of 12 inner spirit to act outwardly in a moral manner; a vision of an omnipresent spirit that, in spite of its ubiquity remains “invisible”, i.e., accessible only to those who take the pains and have the patience to orient themselves toward revelatory experiences in their natural or social milieu; a mysterious and invisible spirit which nevertheless exerts a “controlling” influence over individuals, but in such a way that it leaves enough space for the manifestation of the individual’s inner freedom. Nevertheless, Chen emphasizes rather the differences from the original Confucian understanding of the vast-flowing vigor: “Of course, this explanation is much different from the meaning in Mencius ( . . . ). What Mencius emphasized is that inner personality, bounded by discipline, can be exteriorized into majestic moral power, and not that some omnipresent spirit can be internalized into moral meaning and image. This difference for Emerson is not clear and is ambiguous. Emerson cannot agree to put the mysterious source of human soul under any limit and bound” [authors’ translation] (Chen 1991, p. 6). In spite of allowing a margin for the discussion on the similarities between Confucian vast-flowing vigor and Emerson’s over-soul, which still presents vestigial features taken from Christianity, like “love” and “incarnation”, Chen cautions about letting too much of the Christian heritage dominate the discourse on the over-soul: his point is that the individualism made possible by Transcendentalism under the influence of Confucianism works relatively well when it is about “exteriorizing” moral power, in turn Confucian heritage would not allow the reading of an internalization of the omnipresent spirit into a moral teaching or an image. Actually Emerson was able to operate this in virtue of his conception of the “incarnation” and of the “controlling power” of love. We may understand thus that Chen presents his reservations regarding the idea that the vast-flowing vigor itself could be perfected by human individual participation and still remain without limit or unbounded. In his perspective, which follows that of Mencius, the “inner personality” that represents the internal manifestation of the spirit can only express itself in exterior only if bounded by self-discipline. It is in this point that Chen still remains attached to the necessity of guidance by sages, while Emerson’s view refuses to acknowledge a privileged status of any sage. For instance, in “The Over-Soul”, Emerson asserts: “It is of no use to preach to me from without. I can do that too easily myself. Jesus speaks always from within (...). The position men have given to Jesus, now for many centuries of history, is a position of authority.” (Emerson 2009, p. 208). In spite of this difference, Chen’s efforts toward an individualistic reading of the concentration of the vast-flowing vigor in a person’s self remains closely connected to Emerson’s vision, as he asserts: “The mandate of heaven is in me ( . . . ). The personality of things and persons is also my personality, but with different forms ( . . . ); in this case, man can just be one of Heaven-Earth-Man” [authors’ translation] (Chen 1991, p. 37). This remains an individualistic reading of Confucianism in the spirit of a Transcendentalist vision, since the mandate of heaven can become impersonated in any individual, the possibility of becoming a sage being thus open to anybody, even though the individual’s soul is not superior to the areas of the vast-flowing vigor present in Heaven or Earth. This implication of Chen’s interpretation is a departure from the Confucian insistence on the privileged status of the sage. In this point, in order to acquire a larger margin for his individualistic reading of the vast-flowing vigor, Chen links the vast-flowing vigor also to Thoreau’s individualism, since “Thoreau cares about the self-elevation of the individual soul as Daoism does: purify mind and insight, cultivate oneself and get rid of desires, obey natural law, hope that all humans can reach the state of a harmonious and free relationship with Heaven and Earth and can be fused with all things into one” [authors’ translation] (Chen 1991, p. 87). The connection between the vast-flowing vigor and the individualistic interpretations of Emerson and Thoreau also attracts the attention of Xie Zhichao, who asserts that Emerson and Thoreau shared the idea of virtue with Confucianism and even that they borrowed the term of vast-flowing vigor “to explain the importance of virtue” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 8). Like Chen, Xie believes that Mencius’s “vast-flowing vigor” was only partially understood by Thoreau and Emerson, but he appreciates the influence of the Confucian concept on Emerson and Thoreau’s formulation of individualistic morality: Emerson and Thoreau “focus on the individual’s intuition and sensibility as Religions 2017, 8, 159 7 of 12 Confucianism advocated” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 9). In spite of the fact that “Emerson and Thoreau criticized alienation between man and nature produced by capitalist pell-mell development” (Xie 2007, p. 8), what limits the individualistic perspective initiated by Transcendentalism is its pragmatic aspect, because in Xie’s view, Emerson thought that virtue was “more useful than power” (Xie 2007, p. 7). Xie tends thus to suspect a possible pragmatic turn in the Transcendentalist individualism’s take on Confucianism. He notes that Transcendentalism “borrows Confucian ideas about family, friends, communities to develop individualism”, but the Transcendentalist version of individualism still illustrates strong ties to the “individual’s independent freedom and individual will” [authors’ translation] (Xie 2007, p. 7) that characterizes the broader western conception of individualism. Xie appreciates thus that the result of the confluence between western individualism and Confucian perspective on the self in the Transcendentalist thought points toward the adoption of the perspective of the centrality of virtues, but this emphasis on virtues may not have the same motivations as in Confucian thought. Xie’s argument may be understood from the wider perspective of Confucianism on virtue, as in Confucianism virtues flow rather naturally from the inner self in immediate connection with family, friends, and community. That is why the way the vast-flowing vigor is internalized by the individual in Transcendentalism risks to be limited by the more general western conception of individualism, which may still involve preferences and judgments about what is useful for someone. Xie’s suspicion reflects indeed Emerson’s effort in countering the effect of the traditional philosophical problem in the west about the free choice. “What your heart thinks great, is great. The soul’s emphasis is always right”, Emerson notes in “Spiritual Laws” (Emerson 2009, p. 163). Nevertheless, Emerson’s success in this point might only be limited, since the pragmatic aspect of choice is not completely eliminated in Emerson’s argument, but rather subordinated to the power of the individual heart listening to the soul’s guidance. Qian Mansu is more optimistic than Xie Zhichao regarding the Transcendentalist individualist project based on the traditional Chinese values, as she believes that, in his conception of the over-soul, Emerson involved, besides elements from Confucianism, also moral elements of Daoism. The main reason is that, even if Emerson did not directly use Daoist texts, actually in virtue of the fact that “Confucianism focuses on the moral aspect of Dao” (Qian 1996, pp. 68–69), the dose of Daoism present in Emerson’s moral thinking involved in his presentation of the over-soul was sufficient to effectively do away with the overindividualistic perspective of the west. That is why she openly expresses her confidence that “enthusiasm” and a “living soul” characterize an essential attitude in Emerson’s individualistic thought (Qian 1996, p. 13). A key element that functions as a catalyst, in her opinion, for Emerson’s dealing away with the western problem of the free choice is his rejection of organized Christianity: “He opposed traditional Christianity. His new standard for everything is the individual alive soul (活的灵魂, huó de líng hún) and the always-updating spirit of universe (宇宙之灵, yŭ zhòu zhı̄ líng) which all the individuals’ souls are connected with. This is spiritual religion, which has nothing to do with institutions, with ritual. Under the guidance of this new faith, Emerson split with the church, starting to advocate his ideas about over-soul and self-reliance, becoming the standard bearer of American Transcendentalism” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 2). 4. Humanism and Individualism: Beyond the Temptation of Comprehensive Thinking The common aspects of the concept of the over-soul and the vast-flowing vigor have opened up a promising field of discussion regarding the Chinese perspectives on the self and the role of the individuality embedded in the intercultural, social and political milieus. As mentioned above, Chen Changfang expressed confidence that “the mandate of heaven” may be in every individual, provided that the individual works toward bettering the ones he enters in contact with, but warned about conceding too much confidence in the individual capacities to influence the vast-flowing vigor. In this point, by criticizing this Transcendentalist confidence, he also disagrees with the Transcendentalist model of contesting the authority of sages or the institutions promoting the sages’ Religions 2017, 8, 159 8 of 12 teachings. Nevertheless, Chen suggests that the ultimate authority comes from the vast-flowing vigor, which encompasses not only the humanity, but it is expressed at three levels: “man can just be one of Heaven-Earth-Man” (Chen 1991, p. 37). Writing a few years later, Qian Mansu takes this issue further, and while she is arguing in the same direction as Chen, to preserve the idea of the equal influx of the vast-flowing vigor in all the three levels of existence, she places a specific emphasis on the individualist implications of the Confucian perspective. She succeeds in securing the traditional view of the equal influx of the spirit in the three levels of existence, by using a Christian terminology: “The Chinese trinity is Heaven-Earth-Man.” (Qian 1996, p. 69). The use of the term “trinity” suggests this equality of influx and the fusion of Heaven-Earth-Man into one, and at the same time establishing a certain differentiation between them, while avoiding exclusivist individualism. In order to harmonize this version of individualism with the perspective of the traditional Confucianism on the self, Qian talks about “Confucian humanism”: “Confucian humanism has three aspects: worshiping the ‘sacred’, abstract, not concrete personified god; putting human interest above theocracy, placing man in the center of universe; focusing on the meaning of the human ethical relationships” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, pp. 90–91). The fact that Confucianism is centered so much on “human affairs and things around man” can be explained, Qian asserts (Qian 1996, p. 97), because “in the Chinese Heaven-Earth-Man trinity, Man has actual superiority to Heaven” (Qian 1996, p. 96). We may understand that, in Qian’s interpretation, this is just a superiority of the intensity of the way the vigor is made concrete within and by every individual, not a superiority in the influx of the vast-flowing vigor in every man. That is why only a few individuals can perfectly reflect the richness of the vast-flowing vigor: “sage is the man who embodies human ethical relationships perfectly” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 97). This interpretation of Qian’s view is also suggested by her peculiar statement, in the first pages of her book, recalling Protagoras’s famous humanist dictum “man is the measure of all things”, but this time reshaped as to resonate with both Transcendentalist and Confucian humanism: “Emerson’s new measure of evaluating everything is the alive soul of the individual person (...) [H]e is sure that man has an independent value from God, and he himself can live a spiritual life independently from the church. (...) Religion becomes, eventually, purely spiritual, personal and ethical” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, pp. 2–3). It is thus through the way the over-soul is individualized or given concrete intensity of life that the man advances toward the perfect virtuous status, and this personal advancement is not primarily related to following other sages’ teachings. Although referring directly to Emerson’s critical attitude toward the church, she makes it clear that her argument is actually about any organized religion or system of thought. Is, in this respect, Confucianism an exception? Qian suggests that, given the influence of Confucianism on Emerson’s conception of the over-soul, Confucianism has the humanistic resources that would allow a more individualized application and creative reinterpretation of the Confucian heritage. Nevertheless, throughout its history of thought, Confucianism allowed only a limited individualistic approach. For instance “for Confucius, there is only one truth, which is found by the ancient sage king” (Qian 1996, p. 186), while “Mencius is intolerant to different schools of thought of his time” (Qian 1996, p. 187). In other words, instead of a positive focus on the individual possibilities of advancing toward, and reaching the status of sage, Confucian teachers have preferred the negative approach, by rejecting relativism that could sow confusion in the individual souls: “Confucianism teaches people to follow ancient sages and not to deviate from ancestors’ way. But Emerson insisted that the past must not stifle alive people, and creativity is the life of the soul, imitation is suicide for the soul” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 189). The challenge that contemporary interpretations of Confucianism are facing is thus to advance more decidedly on the path of individualism. Comparing Qian Mansu’s perspective to that of the other two intellectuals of the same era (Chen Changfang and Ni Feng), it may be observed that all three place an emphasis on the necessity for the Chinese theoretical discussions about self and individualism to extend beyond the sphere of Religions 2017, 8, 159 9 of 12 interpersonal morality. Qian argues: “Confucianism has some potential for individualism, but the Confucian concept of self cannot become individualism. Because, first, Confucian self is a strictly moral concept, not a political or lawful one. It is mainly about a person’s personality. But from the perspective of politics or society, individual is a part of group, individual’s value lies in the social relationship” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 213). Qian hopes thus to initiate in her contemporary intellectual culture an endeavor to extend the inquiry and application of Confucian individualism to the political and social culture. The example of this renewal cannot exclusively come from traditional Chinese culture, because “there are some individualist elements in the Chinese traditional culture, but they have nothing to do with modern individualism” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 212). This explains the importance she finds in the reception of Transcendentalism by Chinese scholars working on Chinese humanism in the 1990s, since the Transcendentalist approach regarding the individual, an attitude that had been influenced by Confucian ideas, could constitute an important example of bringing about a Confucian-inspired modern individualism. Taking Transcendentalist individualism as a source of inspiration for the exploration of the possibilities of traditional Chinese culture to enrich the content of individualism beyond its moral applications, Chen Changfang had stated that, in principle, according to the traditional ideas of the Chinese culture, the “mandate of heaven” could be exteriorized by any individual in virtuous relationships with his environment. Nevertheless he had found a smaller margin for a creative restatement of individualism in Confucianism, than in Daoism (Chen 1991, p. 37). Writing a few years later, Qian Mansu argues that, although Daoism does offer the traditional resources for a theoretical restatement of a Chinese version of modern individualism, the major setback that would appear for the theoretician consists in Daoism’s retreat from society: “In Chinese philosophy, Daoism is the closest to individualism. Daoism advocates going back to nature ( . . . ) focusing on inner freedom ( . . . ), escaping society. ( . . . ) It is impossible for Daoism to set up a new social order to guarantee everybody’s individual freedom” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 216). Not only the moral, but also the social and political guarantee of individual freedom had also been the object of Ni Feng’s theoretical preoccupations on widening the sphere of the application of the Chinese perspective on individualism. Ni Feng argues that Thoreau’s social and political thought “centers around the person as an independent individual (独立个体, dú lì gè tı̌) and his social and natural environment”, and concludes that “the real power of a society or a country is to solve the problems of this society or country by individuals” [authors’ translation] (Ni 1993, p. 110). Although using the phrase “independent individual”, Ni Feng signals that he is not talking about an exclusivist individualism, as he conceives an independent individual, but nevertheless engaged in his social and political environments. Ni Feng suggests that this peculiar position of an individual’s independence voluntarily oriented toward solving the problems of his society and country resonates well with the traditional Chinese culture. Nevertheless, he argues that, if the society or the country benefit from the work of the individual toward practical and spiritual achievements, it follows naturally that this independence should be protected at both the societal and political level: “in Thoreau’s political thinking, his focus has always been on protecting human rights and freedom, worrying about potential harms made by the government to the individual at the level of human rights and freedom” (Ni 1993, p. 116). The discussion about the connection between Transcendentalist individualism and the extension of the sphere of traditional Chinese understanding of the self to include an individualism not only in morality, but also in society and the political community, is also raised by Xie Zhichao, who concedes that “Emerson and Thoreau found inspiration from Confucianism, especially from conceptions of individual and nature to make up for the shortcomings of Transcendentalism” [authors’ translation]. Nevertheless, “Confucianism does not talk about individualism”, but rather about the “individual living in social relationships” (Xie 2007, p. 7). Xie’s suggested solution in conciliating the two apparent contradictory views, a version of individualism generated under the influence of the Chinese culture and a version of an individual life accepted by the mainstream traditional interpretation, consists in Religions 2017, 8, 159 10 of 12 linking questions regarding individual value to the question of rights and liberties of the groups that they connect with: “According to Confucianism ( . . . ) the value of the individual belongs to different groups” (Xie 2007, p. 7). At the light of this idea, which Xie does not develop sufficiently, we may now go back to Qian Mansu’s efforts of finding a solution for a higher visibility of the individual in the social and political spheres in order to observe that she had proposed a similar view. Taking as a point of departure the situation of a minority group in China, the Jewish community of Kaifeng, Qian believes that there is no perceived gap between their Jewish and Chinese identities, at least from the point of view of the Chinese political culture. This is mainly due, in her opinion, to the adoption, in the political sphere, of an attitude of inclusiveness, which remains the merit of Confucian traditional values: “The comprehensive thinking of Confucianism determines its inclusiveness, e.g., the Jews are assimilated into Chinese in Kaifeng, China, which is different from the Jewish isolated situation in other countries” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 78). Her choice of talking about the Jewish community is meant to help her maintain that the Confucian traditional values inspired a Chinese culture of inclusiveness toward Jews for many centuries, in contrast with the negative perception of Jewish communities in the political and social cultures of the European countries. Nevertheless, although she finds positive the aspect of inclusiveness, she warns that this kind of attitude, if reinforced unilaterally by the state, or the majority groups, may lead to what she calls “nihilism”, i.e., the erasure of all that makes the specific of a particular community: “The tendency of comprehensive thinking is to find commons instead of discussing about differences (...). If taken to the extreme, this way of thinking may lead to nihilism” (Qian 1996, p. 78). Qian does not hesitate to express her opinion that even “Zhuangzi’s On Leveling All Things (《齐物论》) has this tendency to nihilism” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 78). Erasing the individual identities for the sake of inclusiveness may generate “nihilism”, a word with strong anti-social connotations. Qian indicates thus the danger of a clash of identities and the social turmoil that would be generated by misrepresented traditional ideals of inclusiveness. The temptation of comprehensive thinking, Qian suggests, characterizes all modern political cultures, as even “Emerson’s thinking tends to comprehension too, but his background of the western tradition balances it” [authors’ translation] (Qian 1996, p. 78). In other words, it is the background of the value of the individual and his freedom that discourages the all-too inclusive attitudes of majorities in western political communities, even if, as we have seen, this background had given Emerson a hard time conciliating the western philosophical problem of the free choice with his own conception of spiritual laws (Emerson 2009, p. 163). If comprehensive thinking can be kept away from radical applications, Qian expresses hopes that it may become a medium of reciprocal exchange and assimilation of wisdom, even if this means assimilating new wisdom, that doesn’t characterize a traditional culture throughout its history: according to Emerson, comprehension means to “assimilate the true and the good in anybody’s thinking” (Qian 1996, p. 78). This means that this attitude of acculturation may prove itself fruitful for both majority and minority groups, and opens up the political culture of the majority toward the assimilation of new insights, allowing fresh reevaluations of the elements provided by the majority group’s historical and cultural heritage. In Qian’s case, the Transcendentalist model appears as an important cultural opportunity to reorient the resources of the traditional Chinese culture toward a revolutionary take on the internal possibilities of the Confucian self engaged in his surrounding milieu. 5. Conclusions The Chinese cultural influence on Transcendentalism has received only a limited attention in western scholarship, given the western perception of the “Oriental” thesaurus explored by Emerson and Thoreau as a conglomerate of elements melted and reshaped into the two thinkers’ ideal of a “literary religion”. The theoretical reason behind the exploration of the Chinese influences consists Religions 2017, 8, 159 11 of 12 in showing that, in spite of the perceived Transcendentalist melting pot, traditional Chinese elements have not been distorted, but rather the intellectual and spiritual experiment performed by the Transcendentalists have given these elements a special elasticity, that has been positively received by Chinese scholars. The inquiry over the role of traditional cultural elements of Confucianism and Daoism in shaping Emerson’s or Thoreau’s conception of the individual is not strictly an issue that concerns only Chinese scholars, as it might be interpreted, but rather concerns the larger framework of cultural exchange. It seems indeed striking to learn from a Chinese scholar like Qian Mansu that Emerson, born and brought about in a cultural space external to the Chinese culture, has oriented himself toward an attitude that “refreshes the essence of Confucianism”. As we have seen, this kind of assertion is indeed backed by an argument about the importance of the openness toward “comprehensive thinking” and “inclusiveness”. As we have seen, Chinese scholars responded to the Transcendentalist attitude of using traditional Chinese terms with the willingness to explore the possibilities of western terms like “incarnation” and “trinity” in order to generate a comparative approach accessible to the modern day intellectual living in China and being acquainted with core western values. Another particularly striking assertion, coming from Chen Changfang, “the mandate of heaven is in me”, is meant to suggest to the Chinese intellectual audience that the vast-flowing vigor may become activated not only in idealized historical sages or institutions, but also within the personal self of any individual. This is one of the main aims of the debates regarding the connection between Emerson’s over-soul and the vast-flowing vigor. Although we find relative agreement in Chen Changfang, Ni Feng, Qian Mansu and Xie Zhichao that the Chinese version of individualism should avoid an exclusivist individualism that is most characteristic to western culture, their separate efforts converge in the way they are problematizing the limits imposed on the self by the Chinese traditional culture. The aim of this problematization has been the widening of the attention given to the value of the self and individual life, not only in moral matters, but also in the area of the political culture and social mentalities. Taking transcendentalism as a source of inspiration, Chen, Ni, Qian and Xie seem to agree that this renewal in cultural perception remains possible if the traditional resources of Confucianism and Daoism are involved in a creative way in cultural renewal and dialogue. One of the possible solutions regarding the place and value of the individual in Chinese contemporary political and social culture and mentalities has been suggested by Xie Zhichao, and in a more detailed manner by Qian Mansu. She argues that a model of “inclusiveness” should be pursued, as it has been fruitful in the past and in addition has been inspired by the Chinese traditional culture. At the same time she insists upon refreshing the essence of this model by introducing new perceptions of the Chinese traditional culture that have generated social change in other cultural spaces. She intends thus to raise awareness about the positive impact of the model of Transcendentalist individualism upon humanism as understood in China. Qian’s term “assimilation”, and her example of the Jewish community of Kaifeng, may raise questions about Qian’s model of cultural exchange. Nonetheless, the emphasis she places on the necessity of avoiding “nihilism” reveals her view on refreshing the idea of assimilation itself in the Chinese intellectual understanding. That is why, following the Transcendentalist model, she talks about assimilating wisdom, a dynamic attitude which, in her opinion, should be reciprocal: the Jewish community was “assimilated” in the sense that the Chinese larger culture assimilated “the true and the good” in their thinking, and also that the “the true and the good” of the Chinese traditional culture has been assimilated by the Jewish community in Kaifeng during the centuries that they lived in China and enjoyed a wider freedom, than in the European countries, to identify common grounds, to link their Jewish and wider identities together. This is a rather optimistic reading of this phenomenon of acculturation as a reciprocal assimilation of wisdom, but Qian hopes to present the model of Transcendentalist individualism as an opportunity to refresh the debate on cultural exchange, and provide a reinforced theoretical model for promoting a stronger conception of individualism embedded in the Chinese framework of thought. Qian Mansu’s Religions 2017, 8, 159 12 of 12 model of “comprehensive thinking”, together with elements of the theoretical interpretations of Chen Changfang, Ni Feng, Xie Zhichao, Fang Hanwen and Xu Wen on the use of Confucianism and Daoism by Emerson and Thoreau, show how Transcendentalist individualism has brought, in the late twentieth century and contemporary Chinese intellectual space, a new opportunity for inquiry upon the resources of the Chinese traditional culture to reinvigorate the theoretical debates about humanism and the value of the individual. Author Contributions: S.Z. had the original idea, and designed the work plan after consulting with I.U. S.Z. translated the Chinese texts into English and received assistance from I.U. regarding the philosophical implications of the translated texts for a western audience. Both S.Z. and I.U. worked separately and jointly on several drafts before assembling the final draft. I.U. gave the English formulation and style of the text, and S.Z. made the final revision. Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest. References Chen, Changfang. 1991. Thoreau and China (梭罗与中国). Taibei: San Min Book. Dilworth, David A. 2010. The Over-Soul. In Critical Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson; a Literary Reference to His Life and Work. Edited by Tiffany K. Wayne. New York: Facts on File, pp. 206–9. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 2009. Essays and Lectures. Overland Park: Digireads. Fang, Hanwen, and Wen Xu. 2014. Interpretation and Reconstruction of Emerson’s Transcendentalism on Chinese Confucian Humanity Thinking (美国爱默生超验主义对中国儒学人文思想的阐释与再建). Social Sciences in Guangdong 2: 162–69. Ni, Feng. 1993. The Political Thought of Henry D. Thoreau (梭罗政治思想述评). American Studies Quarterly 4: 107–28. Qian, Mansu. 1996. Emerson and China: Reflecting on Individualism (爱默生和中国：对个人主义的反思). Beijing: SDX Joint Publishing Company. Thoreau, Henry D. 1989. Walden. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Versluis, Arthur. 1993. American Transcendentalism and Asian Religions. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wayne, Tiffany K. 2006. Encyclopedia of Transcendentalism; the Essential Guide to the Lives and Works of Transcendentalist Writers. New York: Facts on File. Xie, Zhichao. 2007. The Meeting of American Transcendentalism and Chinese Four Books (美国超验主义与中国 《四书》的碰撞). Social Sciences in Hunan 3: 6–9. © 2017 by the authors. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introductory Remarks Individual Life in Social Relationships The Vast-Flowing Vigor and the Over-Soul Humanism and Individualism: Beyond the Temptation of Comprehensive Thinking Conclusions 
work_5rss27z4z5eghlg3mbj3yohtba	----	00_Intro_rosto.pmd Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico Renato Rodrigues Kinouchi Peirce conduziu a James e James conduziu a Dewey e o resultado foi uma teoria da verdade indutiva e experimental (Savery, 1939). A palavra pragmatismo é um daqueles termos filosóficos polissêmicos, para os quais o primeiro passo na análise costuma ser o levantamento de sua origem etimológica. Re- correndo à etimologia, aprendemos que o termo vem do grego prámatiké, significando “conjunto de regras ou fórmulas que regulam as cerimônias oficiais ou religiosas” (Weiszflog, 1998, p. 1679). Então o pragmatismo filosófico, originalmente, deveria ser entendido como a consideração das questões filosóficas a partir de determinadas re- gras ou fórmulas reguladoras. Não obstante, há outro significado segundo o qual essa doutrina consistiria na “consideração das coisas a partir de um ponto de vista prático” (Weiszflog, 1998, p. 1679). Nesse sentido, um indivíduo pragmático é aquele que não se prende de antemão a princípios ideológicos ou fundamentações metafísicas, mas sim lida com as questões tendo em vista suas conseqüências práticas. Essas duas defi- nições, conquanto não sejam mutuamente excludentes, acabam informando duas vi- sões diferentes de filosofia: uma mais normativa e outra mais utilitária. Aqui nosso trabalho consistirá, em sua maior parte, em contrastar as concepções filosóficas dos fundadores do pragmatismo — a saber, Charles Sanders Peirce, William James e John Dewey — tendo em vista pôr em evidência suas diferenças mais significativas. Todavia, existe um ponto que justifica dizer que há uma base comum a todos eles. O pragmatis- mo pode ser sucintamente entendido como sendo, de certo modo, um expediente — que por sua vez significa um “meio de sair de um embaraço, de vencer uma dificuldade, de lograr bom êxito em alguma coisa” (Weiszflog, 1998, p. 922). Por um lado, o expedien- te certamente tem sua utilidade prática; e, por outro, trata-se de uma regra ou de uma fórmula para lidar com questões que demandam uma solução. No final das contas, um expediente transmite a idéia de um método para abordar os problemas. Desse modo, para apreendermos o sentido completo da palavra pragmatismo, temos sim que consi- derar o papel da utilidade prática, mas não podemos esquecer que o pragmatismo se coloca, antes de tudo, como uma questão de método. scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 docum en tos cien tíficos 215 Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007216 1 A idéia de Peirce Comecemos por explicitar o pragmatismo em sua formulação original. Sem meias pa- lavras, o pragmatismo nasce como uma teoria relativa ao modus operandi da ciência, pois se refere essencialmente ao auxílio prestado por certas fórmulas ou regras na prá- tica científica. De fato, a primeira aparição do pragmatismo em forma escrita, embora o termo não tenha sido empregado, acontece em uma série de seis ensaios coletiva- mente intitulados de Ilustrações da lógica da ciência. A propósito, se examinarmos a trajetória intelectual de Peirce, veremos que a maior parte de sua vida foi dedicada a questões ligadas à ciência, tanto no campo teórico como no experimental. No campo teórico, ele investigava questões principalmente ligadas à matemática e à lógica. No que tange à experimentação, Peirce indica que praticamente “morou em um laborató- rio desde a idade de seis anos até bem depois da maturidade e, tendo toda uma vida relacionada com experimentalistas, sempre teve a sensação de compreendê-los e de ser por eles compreendido” (Peirce, 2000b [1905], p. 282). Cabe remarcar que Peirce não foi apenas um filósofo bem informado em ciência. Ele foi realmente um pesquisa- dor profissional e, com efeito, para ele o método científico oferece a maneira mais apropriada de raciocinar. Conforme assinalam alguns críticos: “Quando vista como um todo, a filosofia de Peirce pode ser caracterizada de diferentes maneiras, mas, seja como for, deve dizer- se que é uma filosofia científica” (Houser & Kloesel, 1992, p. xxxiv). Pois bem, tratar- se-ia então de alguma variante daquilo que usualmente chamamos de positivismo? Não exatamente, pois o positivismo, em linhas gerais, sustenta que somente a ciência teria importância crucial; a metafísica seria um mero palavrório sem sentido que de- veria ser o quanto antes eliminado. Peirce, por sua vez, enquanto nutre uma alta esti- ma pela ciência, não propõe o abandono da metafísica, mas antes sua reformulação, por meio da utilização do método científico. Isso é o que ele chama de “prope-positi- vismo” — onde o prefixo prope significa algo como largo, amplo — isto é, um tipo de positivismo não sectário que, ao invés de repudiar o que é inobservável, diga-se a me- tafísica como um todo, procura lançar as luzes da ciência sobre ela, para esclarecê-la: Na minha opinião, a atual condição infantil da filosofia [...] é devido ao fato de que durante este século [xix] ela foi principalmente alvo da dedicação de homens que não se educaram em laboratórios e salas de dissecção e, conseqüentemente, não foram estimulados pelo verdadeiro Eros científico (Peirce, 1998 [1898], p. 29). Mas é bom deixar claro que o tal Eros científico estimularia desinteressadamen- te a aquisição e o aumento do conhecimento. Em verdade, a filosofia, auxiliada pela 217 Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 ciência, não teria como tarefa precípua resolver questões vitais de ordem prática, mas ampliar, por assim dizer, nosso espaço intelectual. O pragmatismo de Peirce é de na- tureza intelectualista; e se há referência à prática, trata-se de prática racional — isto é, relativa à otimização da economia do raciocínio proporcionada pela lógica. Esse ponto é a chave para o entendimento do pensamento peirceano. É preciso notar que a valida- de de um argumento assegura que retiremos conclusões verdadeiras a partir de pre- missas verdadeiras. Caso contrário, nada nos previne de retirarmos conclusões falsas apesar da verdade das premissas. O efeito prático de um argumento válido é não nos deixar resvalar em erros. Assim, questões de lógica têm um aspecto muitíssimo práti- co para o estudioso da ciência. O empreendimento de esclarecer a filosofia, por meio da lógica empregada na ciência, perpassa toda a obra peirceana. Todavia, já é hora de colocar em cena um outro autor pragmatista, a saber, o psicólogo e filósofo William James, que interpretava o pragmatismo de uma maneira diferente, o que por sinal causava certos constrangimen- tos, de modo que as reflexões posteriores de Peirce são, em larga medida, uma reação às idéias do psicólogo. A esse propósito, há uma célebre passagem em que Peirce dizia que sua criança (o pragmatismo) havia sido raptada (cf. Talisse, 2000); e dali em diante, para circunscrever sua definição original, ele a rebatizou de pragmaticismo — um nome “feio o suficiente para ficar a salvo de raptores” (Peirce, 2000b [1905], p. 287). Nesse ínterim, Peirce passa a dar muito mais detalhes sobre o que o pragmatismo é, e, mais ainda, esforça-se sobremaneira para dizer o que seu pragmatismo não é. Mas, para com- preendermos esse debate, faz-se necessário conhecer a interpretação de James, caso contrário, as reflexões posteriores de Peirce ficariam mais ou menos no vazio. 2 A interpretação de James James e Peirce se conheceram ainda jovens, por volta de 1861, dentro do círculo acadê- mico da Harvard Scientific School. O calouro William logo percebeu que o veterano Charles era “um colega muito inteligente, com uma grande personalidade, bem inde- pendente, embora um tanto violenta” (Skrupskelis & Berkeley, 1995, p. 43). Logo os dois rapazes tornaram-se amigos, a despeito de acentuadas diferenças de formação. Peirce era bem do tipo acadêmico, crescido em uma família de scholars. Por sua vez, James era um burguês, crescido em um ambiente literário,1 que optou por dedicar-se 1 A título de ilustração diga-se que James era afilhado de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Para se imaginar um pouco da atmosfera intelectual em que William James cresceu, basta ler algum romance de seu irmão mais novo, o famoso ficcionista Henry James. Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007218 à ciência, especificamente às áreas de medicina, biologia e história natural. Como cu- riosidade, diga-se que, em 1865, aos vinte três anos, James participou de uma expedi- ção científica à Amazônia, fazendo parte, por oito meses, da equipe do naturalista Louis Agassiz (cf. Menand, 2001). Mas ao regressar da expedição, o jovem reconheceu que não tinha vocação para o trabalho de naturalista e acabou por formar-se em medicina. Convém assinalar que James também foi um “homem de ciência”, embora de uma maneira diferente de Peirce. A principal diferença, que terá conseqüências pro- fundas para o desenvolvimento de suas respectivas visões filosóficas, é que a formação de James, em medicina, biologia e psicologia — e não em física e matemática — fez com que ele tivesse uma perspectiva mais nominalista a respeito da ciência, em oposição ao realismo de Peirce. Por nominalismo, grosso modo, entende-se a tese de que os termos gerais são agrupamentos lingüísticos de instâncias particulares; portanto, quando a ciência fala, por exemplo, acerca de Massa (com M maiúsculo), na verdade agrupa-se sobre uma palavra propriedades que os corpos (com c minúsculo) apresentam. Por si- nal, a idéia de tipo (espécime) ideal e da imutabilidade das espécies, no campo da bio- logia, estava em declínio depois da popularização de Darwin, que significava um avan- ço do nominalismo nas áreas biológicas. O nominalismo de James fez com que seu modo de olhar a ciência fosse mais relativizado, mas isso não quer dizer que James tivesse menos apreço pela ciência. A propósito, James era um dos integrantes do Metaphysical Club, o sarau filosó- fico em que ocorreram as primeiras discussões acerca do pragmatismo, por volta de 1870, cujo nome tem um certo tom pomposamente irreverente (cf. Menand, 2001). E muito certamente ele leu os artigos da coleção Ilustrações de Peirce, datados de 1877- 1878, onde aparece a máxima pragmática, mesmo que não se tenha dado um nome ex- plícito a ela. Por mais de vinte anos aqueles debates ficaram, por assim dizer, latentes; isto é, o pragmatismo não foi de imediato reconhecido pela comunidade intelectual. Isso não quer dizer, entretanto, que idéias pragmatistas não circulassem sub-repti- ciamente. Com efeito, a psicologia veiculada por James em seu The principles of psycho- logy (Princípios de psicologia) de 1890, já delimita aquilo que podemos chamar de prag- matismo jamesiano. É nesse livro, mais precisamente no seu capítulo final, intitulado “Verdades ne- cessárias e os efeitos da experiência”, que aparece sua mais concisa definição de ciên- cia natural, a qual concatena vários pontos importantes, cada um deles merecendo ser discutido separadamente. Mas, para não perder o sentido do todo, ela será apresenta- da de uma só vez, e depois discutiremos os pontos principais. Nas palavras de James: A ciência rende expressões que, dados os lugares e tempos, podem ser traduzidas em valores reais, ou interpretadas como porções definidas no interior do caos 219 Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 que cai sob nossos sentidos. Ela se torna um guia prático de nossas expectativas tanto quanto proporciona prazer teórico. Mas eu não vejo como alguém com sen- so dos fatos poderia chamar isso de resultados imediatos da experiência [tal como concebia Herbert Spencer]. Toda concepção científica é, antes de qualquer coi- sa, uma “variação espontânea” no cérebro de alguém. Para cada concepção que se prove útil e aplicável existem milhares de outras que perecem devido a sua falta de valor. Sua gênese é estritamente aparentada com aquelas inspirações poéti- cas, ou com as máximas de sabedoria, das quais as variações cerebrais também são a fonte. Mas enquanto a poesia e a sabedoria (como a ciência dos antigos) são sua própria razão de ser, e não vão muito além disso, as concepções científicas devem provar seu valor sendo verificáveis. Tal teste é a causa de sua preservação, não de sua produção (James, 1983 [1890], p. 1232-3). Nota-se primeiramente a noção de ciência como uma espécie de ferramenta lin- güística que organiza os dados dos sentidos. A ciência fornece expressões que servem para traduzir ou interpretar as inúmeras experiências sensoriais. Essa formulação abre espaço para uma visão mais psicologista da ciência, que será retomada mais adiante. Mas, até aqui, não há ainda uma grande diferença entre a concepção de James e aquela de Peirce, pois este último também considerava que as sensações experimentadas por vários cientistas são de fato individuais. Para ambos, todavia, o que há de distintivo, na ciência, é que ela promove um acordo intersubjetivo, por meio da expressão de leis que organizam as inúmeras sensações individuais. Em segundo lugar, já se nota como o pragmatismo jamesiano está associado ao praticalismo e, com efeito, isso está contido plenamente em sua visão de ciência. Ele pensa as teorias científicas do ponto de vista de sua utilidade prática, como guias de nossas ações no mundo. É bem verdade que James também se refere ao deleite teórico proporcionado pela ciência, seu aspecto contemplativo A inspiração poética, por exem- plo, é aparentada com a inspiração científica, mas o que realmente distingue a ciência é sua relação de correspondência com o mundo, enquanto que a poesia, no entender de James, bastaria por si mesma. Sem dúvida, a versão jamesiana do pragmatismo sustenta aquela segunda inter- pretação da palavra prámatiké: a consideração das coisas sob um ponto de vista prático. No ensaio intitulado “Concepções filosóficas e resultados práticos” de 1898, James ini- cia sua exposição dizendo que “[Peirce] é um dos pensadores contemporâneos mais originais; e eu acredito, cada vez mais, que o princípio do praticalismo — ou pragma- tismo, como ele dizia, na primeira ocasião em que eu o ouvi falar disso, em Cambridge, no começo de 1870 — é a chave ou bússola com a qual podemos manter nossos passos no caminho certo” (James, 1992 [1898], p. 1079). Com efeito, há que se destacar duas Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007220 coisas. Primeiro, que é manifesto que a palavra pragmatismo, denominando estrita- mente uma doutrina filosófica, foi uma invenção de Peirce. Em segundo lugar, nota-se que James, quando chama essa doutrina de praticalismo, já agrega ao debate um pouco de sua própria interpretação. Nesse ínterim, aparece um certo acento anti-intelectua- lista, que anuncia a tendência de expandir o pragmatismo em direção às chamadas ques- tões vitais da existência humana. Entre essas questões encontram-se aquelas de natu- reza religiosa, sobre as quais James se propõe a aplicar o “princípio de Peirce”. Grosso modo, defende que os efeitos da experiência religiosa sobre um indivíduo justificam a vida religiosa dessa pessoa. Não haveria assim motivo para descartar-se sumariamen- te, por exemplo, a crença na existência de Deus, visto que muitas pessoas efetivamente vivenciam os efeitos de uma tal crença. O que se nota é que o pragmatismo de James às vezes parece soar como uma espécie de existencialismo utilitarista. 3 A reconstrução de John Dewey John Dewey (1859-1952) ocupou um lugar privilegiado dentro do pensamento norte- americano. Vinte anos mais novo que Peirce e James, Dewey se tornou a principal figura do pragmatismo no século xx. Na verdade, Peirce e James, que faleceram antes da pri- meira guerra mundial, ainda eram homens do século xix. Mas os noventa e três anos vividos por Dewey permitiram-lhe ser espectador das duas guerras mundiais que trans- formaram a paisagem política do mundo contemporâneo. Além disso, sua origem social imprimiu-lhe características distintas em relação a Peirce e James. John Dewey repre- sentava a classe média norte-americana da época. Ele era filho de um pequeno comer- ciante e, de fato, se não fosse a influência de sua mãe, Lucina, provavelmente não teria formação universitária (cf. Dewey, 1939, p. 4). Quando criança, Dewey engajara-se nas mais triviais responsabilidades domésticas, tal como acontecia com os amigos de sua idade. Nesse contexto, a educação formal era vista como desconectada da realidade. A percepção de que as partes mais importantes de sua própria educação, antes de entrar na universidade, foram obtidas fora da sala de aula, desempenhou um gran- de papel em seu trabalho educacional, no qual grande importância é dada, tanto em teoria quanto na prática, às atividades ocupacionais, sendo essas as mais efe- tivas abordagens para uma educação genuína e disciplina intelectual pessoal (Dewey, 1939, p. 9). Após graduar-se na Universidade de Vermont, Dewey trabalhou como professor secundarista no estado da Pensilvânia, mas pouco tempo depois iniciou sua pós-gradua- 221 Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 ção na recém-inaugurada Universidade John Hopkins, por volta de 1880. Lá ele encon- trou um círculo intelectual que incluía professores tais como George Sylvester Morris — que se dedicava à divulgação do idealismo alemão em sua versão hegeliana —, James McKeen Cattell — que se tornou célebre por suas contribuições na área de testes antro- pométricos — e G. Stanley Hall — aluno de William James e um dos mais importantes professores de psicologia no início do século xx. Além disso, Dewey também teve a oportunidade de cursar as disciplinas de lógica científica ministradas por Peirce — curso que, por sinal, foi praticamente a única atividade docente de Peirce. Em 1884, Dewey foi convidado a lecionar na Universidade de Michigan. Era o início de uma carreira profissional que ainda incluiria uma breve passagem de apenas um ano pela Universidade de Minnesota. A seguir, Dewey dedicou aproximadamente dez anos à Universidade de Chicago, onde compunha o departamento junto com no- mes dignos de menção, tais como James H. Tufts, James R. Angell e George Herbert Mead. A esse propósito, William James (2002) reconhecia em Dewey e na chamada Escola de Chicago uma das mais importantes vertentes da então nascente filosofia ame- ricana. Mas em razão de atritos com o reitor dessa universidade, o filósofo acabou se transferindo para a Universidade de Columbia, onde trabalhou por mais trinta e cinco anos, até sua aposentadoria em 1939. Ou seja, em sua longa e produtiva vida, Dewey trabalhou como professor universitário por aproximadamente 55 anos. Para um relato detalhado de sua trajetória no ambiente universitário norte-americano, uma boa fon- te de consulta é o ensaio biográfico escrito por Jane M. Dewey (1939), filha do filósofo. Dewey também iniciou sua filosofia sob o impacto das teorias evolucionárias do século xix, mais particularmente, o darwinismo. O enfoque naturalista do pensamen- to de Dewey certamente encontrou ressonância primeiramente na obra de William James, cujo Princípios de psicologia, acentuadamente darwinista, foi a obra singular que mais o impressionou e influenciou. Como atesta Jane Dewey: A influência de James sobre a teoria do conhecimento de Dewey não aconteceu graças ao [livro] Pragmatismo, que apareceu depois que a teoria de Dewey havia se formado, outrossim, pelos capítulos dos Princípios de psicologia que tratavam da concepção, da discriminação e da comparação, e do raciocínio. Dewey freqüen- temente recomendava esses capítulos a seus estudantes como a melhor introdu- ção ao que há de essencial em uma teoria pragmática do conhecimento, mais do que o Pragmatismo (Dewey, 1939, p. 23). O fato de Dewey indicar os Princípios sugere um sentimento que às vezes perpas- sa alguns leitores de James, pois, na realidade, o Pragmatismo é um livro fraco em cer- tos aspectos. Certamente é o livro que fez a fama do movimento pragmatista, mas, a Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007222 julgar pela reação de Peirce (que procurava distanciar-se dele), somado ao fato de que o próprio James sentiu a necessidade de reapresentar suas idéias em The meaning of truth (O significado da verdade), percebe-se que alguma coisa não estava bem. Uma das coisas mais interessantes da obra de Dewey é que ele, ao ocupar o lugar privilegiado de “herdeiro” do pragmatismo, tinha plena consciência das diferenças de enfoque entre Peirce e James. Segundo Dewey: Peirce era acima de tudo um lógico; enquanto James era um educador e um humanista, que desejava forçar o grande público a reconhecer que certos proble- mas, certos debates filosóficos, tinham uma importância real para a humanida- de, porque as crenças que eles colocam em jogo levam a modos de conduta bas- tante diferentes. Se essa importante distinção não for apreendida, fica impossível entender a maioria das ambigüidades e dos erros pertencentes ao período poste- rior do movimento pragmático (Dewey, 1981 [1931], p. 46). Essa percepção de que o pragmatismo de Peirce é de natureza lógica, enquanto James divulgou um pragmatismo humanista, possibilita Dewey sintetizar um novo tipo de pragmatismo que, em uma linguagem atualizada, entrelaça valores cognitivos, éti- cos e sociais. O pragmatismo originalmente imaginado por Peirce era um método de esclarecer conceitos ou representações concernentes a termos teóricos presentes na ciência. Ou seja, tratava-se de uma questão de otimização do raciocínio, dizendo res- peito mais a valores cognitivos. Por sua vez, James interpreta essas noções em um ou- tro contexto, aplicando-as a temas muito mais abrangentes, especialmente a questões de natureza ética e religiosa. Nesse caso, o pragmatismo começa a lidar com a esfera dos valores éticos e sociais, indo além daquilo que Peirce originalmente imaginara. Certamente a máxima peirceana de considerar os efeitos sensíveis dos conceitos intelectuais funcionava perfeitamente dentro da esfera dos valores cognitivos, mas, apesar de toda a boa vontade de James, gerava inquietação na esfera dos valores sociais. No tocante a Dewey, apesar de não repudiar a esfera dos valores sociais (muito ao con- trário, tinha-os em alta conta), ele percebia que havia algo que precisava ser esclarecido: Mas James devotou-se primariamente aos aspectos morais dessa teoria, ao em- basamento que ela dá ao “melhorismo” e ao idealismo moral, e às conseqüências que seguem dela no tocante ao valor sentimental e às ligações de vários sistemas filosóficos, particularmente às implicações destrutivas para o racionalismo monista e para o absolutismo em todas suas formas. Ele nunca procurou desenvol- ver uma teoria completa das formas ou “estruturas” e das operações lógicas que se fundam nessa concepção. O instrumentalismo é uma tentativa de estabelecer 223 Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 uma teoria lógica precisa dos conceitos, dos juízos e das inferências em suas diver- sas formas, considerando primeiramente como o pensamento funciona na deter- minação experimental de suas conseqüências futuras. Significa dizer que o ins- trumentalismo tenta estabelecer distinções universalmente reconhecidas e regras de lógica, derivando-as da função reconstrutiva ou mediativa atribuída à razão. Objetiva-se constituir uma teoria das formas gerais de concepção e de raciocínio, e não deste ou daquele juízo particular ou conceito relacionado com seu próprio conteúdo, ou com suas implicações particulares (Dewey, 1981 [1931], p. 51). Quando faz considerações desse tipo, Dewey soa muito próximo a Peirce. Aqui, os valores cognitivos estão em sua plena expressão e há um certo realismo, no sentido oposto ao nominalismo, de modo que a preocupação é com a generalidade do processo de investigação. Mas há uma diferença fundamental entre Dewey e Peirce. Este último, fortemente orientado por sua formação em matemática, pensa suas estruturas de ma- neira praticamente platônica. Essencial para sua teoria era uma característica, por as- sim dizer, topológica das estruturas triádicas. O cerne da questão consiste na defesa de que quaisquer relações n-ádicas podem ser reduzidas a combinações triádicas, mas as triádicas não podem ser reduzidas a combinações diádicas (Peirce, 2000a [1885]). Sendo assim, Peirce defendia que as “estruturas” deveriam ser consideradas segundo um esquema de categorias sempre triádicas. Essa idéia atravessa toda a filosofia peircea- na e chega a tomar contornos quase místicos — há algo de pitagorismo no ar. Dewey, por sua vez, tinha uma abordagem mais naturalista do que normativa, o que na visão de Peirce era insuficiente. Em carta a Dewey, Peirce diz: “Você propõe substituir uma ciência normativa [a lógica], que a meu ver é a grande carência de nossa época, por uma “história natural” do pensamento ou da experiência [...] Não penso que uma coisa tal como história natural possa responder àquela enorme carência” (Peirce apud Pihlström, 2004, p. 43). Ou seja, apesar de ambos estarem interessados em questões da lógica da investigação, estando então ocupados com valores cognitivos, suas abordagens diferiam. Mas para percebermos isso, precisamos conhecer mais de perto o caráter naturalista do pragmatismo de Dewey. Como dito anteriormente, as teorias evolucionárias tiveram grande impacto nos trabalhos de Dewey. Ele considerava as habilidades humanas em continuidade com a his- tória natural das espécies. Por isso, mesmo a lógica — que costuma ser considerada uma disciplina normativa — deve ser abordada levando em consideração contornos biológicos: A lógica é uma teoria naturalista. O termo “naturalista” tem vários significados. Tal como empregado aqui significa, por um lado, que não há quebra de conti- nuidade entre as operações de investigação e as operações biológicas e físicas. Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007224 Essa “continuidade”, por outro lado, significa que as operações lógicas crescem a partir de atividades orgânicas, sem serem idênticas àquilo do qual emergem [...]. A lógica em questão é também naturalista no sentido da observabilidade, no sen- tido ordinário da palavra, das atividades de investigação. Concepções derivadas de uma faculdade mística da intuição ou qualquer outra coisa tão oculta a ponto de não estar aberta à inspeção e à verificação públicas (tais como aquelas pura- mente psíquicas, por exemplo) estão excluídas (Dewey, 1938, p. 19). Nota-se claramente que Dewey não admitia certas transcendências que, no fun- do, significam um corte qualitativo entre o pensamento e a natureza, mas que, no en- tanto, estão para além de qualquer confirmação ou refutação empírica. A lógica de Dewey é imanente à evolução e não se furta do dever de submeter-se ao escrutínio cien- tífico. Todavia, a evolução biológica não é a única circunstância que delimita a lógica: Uma ambigüidade da palavra “naturalista” é que ela pode ser entendida como envolvendo uma redução do comportamento humano ao comportamento de primatas, amebas, ou elétrons e prótons. Mas o homem é naturalmente um ser que vive em associação com outros, em comunidades possuidoras de linguagens e, portanto, usufruindo uma cultura transmitida. A investigação é um modo de atividade que é socialmente condicionado e que possui conseqüências culturais [...]. Portanto, a concepção naturalista da lógica, que subjaz à posição aqui assu- mida, é um naturalismo cultural. Nem a investigação, nem sequer o mais abstrato conjunto formal de símbolos podem escapar da matriz cultural na qual eles vi- vem, movem-se e têm sua existência (Dewey, 1938, p. 19). Ora, isso vai mais na linha de uma antropologia filosófica, na qual se leva em consideração uma série de fatores tais como o curso da evolução da espécie humana, as primeiras comunidades e, posteriormente, a formação das civilizações, em especial a grega, donde nasce uma ciência contemplativa e, mais adiante, o Renascimento e o despontar do conhecimento de natureza tecnológica. Nesse ponto, Dewey começa a dar ênfase aos valores sociais que circunscreve- ram a história e o desenrolar da atividade científica. O filósofo entende que uma das mais profundas heranças a respeito da natureza do conhecimento científico adveio da divisão de classes própria do mundo grego entre escravos e cidadãos, com a forte sepa- ração entre as atividades manuais e as contemplativas. Mas embora tais condicionantes tenham de fato deixado de existir, há uma inércia que mantém a atividade científica atada aos valores antigos: é por isso que Dewey (1959c) defende que devemos recons- truir a filosofia para adequar nossas concepções teóricas ao mundo contemporâneo. 225 Notas introdutórias ao pragmatismo clássico scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007 Um assunto da máxima importância, e que apenas mencionaremos aqui, é o fato de que a cultura científica é transmitida pela educação. Ora, por essa via chega-se àquilo que é considerado por muitos como o cerne da obra deweyana: sua teoria pedagógica. Em obras como os famosos Teoria da vida moral (1964), Como pensamos (1959a [1910]) e Democracia e educação (1959b [1916]), fica manifesto que a questão dos valores so- ciais impregna sua pedagogia. Todos os adultos adquiriram, no decurso de sua experiência e educação, certas medidas do valor de várias espécies de experiências. Aprenderam a considerar como coisas moralmente boas a honestidade, a amabilidade, a perseverança e a lealdade; e como valores estéticos certos clássicos da literatura, da pintura, da música e assim por diante. Não somente isso; mas aprenderam também certas regras para esses valores: a regra áurea para a moral; a harmonia, o equilíbrio, etc., a proporcionalidade de elementos nas obras estéticas; a objetividade, a cla- reza, a sistematização, nos trabalhos intelectuais. Tais princípios são tão impor- tantes, porque equivalem a padrões para aferir o valor das novas experiências, que os pais e os professores sempre tendem a ensiná-los diretamente aos jovens (Dewey, 1959b [1916], p. 257). Finalmente chegamos ao último ponto que queríamos assinalar. Não só os valo- res têm um lugar destacado na visão deweyana sobre a educação, como fica evidente que o filósofo aponta claramente valores cognitivos, sociais e estéticos que perpassam a educação como um todo. Objetividade, clareza e sistematicidade nos trabalhos inte- lectuais são critérios que focalizam valores cognitivos; honestidade, amabilidade, per- severança e lealdade consistem em valores éticos e são orientados pela regra áurea da moral; e, finalmente, harmonia, equilíbrio e proporcionalidade de elementos são ava- liações de valores estéticos. Nas próximas páginas, oferecemos a tradução do ensaio “The development of Ame- rican pragmatism”, no qual Dewey expõe com precisão as idas e vindas do pragmatismo em seu período clássico. As notas introdutórias aqui apresentadas apenas pontuam certas partes centrais do texto, mas não se comparam ao escrutínio realizado por Dewey. Como já mencionado, se houve alguém que dispôs de uma posição privilegiada para discorrer sobre o pragmatismo como movimento filosófico, esse alguém foi John Dewey. Renato Rodrigues Kinouchi Professor Adjunto do Centro de Ciências Naturais e Humanas,,,,, Universidade Federal do ABC, Brasil. renato.kinouchi@ufabc.edu.br Renato Rodr igues Kinouchi scientiæ zudia, São Paulo, v. 5, n. 2, p. 215-26, 2007226 referências bibliográficas Dewey, J. Logic: the theory of inquiry. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1938. _____. Como pensamos. Tradução H. C. Campos. São Paulo: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1959a [1910]. _____. Democracia e educação. Tradução G. Rangel & A . Teixeira. São Paulo: Companhia Editora Nacional, 1959b [1916]. _____. Reconstrução em filosofia. Tradução A . P. Carvalho. São Paulo: Companhia Editora Nacional,1959c. _____. Teoria da vida moral. Tradução L. G. Carvalho. São Paulo: Ibrasa, 1964. _____. The development of American pragmatism. In: McDermott, J. J. (Org.). The philosophy of John Dewey. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981 [1931]. p. 41-58. Dewey, J. M. Biography of John Dewey. In: Schilpp, P. A . (Ed.). The philosophy of John Dewey. Chicago: Northwestern University, 1939. p. 3-45 (The Library of Living Philosophers, 1). Guinsburg, J. (Ed.). Semiótica. São Paulo: Perspectiva, 2000. (Coleção Estudos, 46). Houser, N. (Ed.). The essential Peirce: selected philosophical writings. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998 [1898]. v. 2: 1893-1913. Houser, N. & Kloesel, C. (Ed.). The essential Peirce: selected philosophical writings. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. v. 1: 1867-1893. James, W. The principles of psychology. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983 [1890]. _____. Philosophical conceptions and practical results. In: Myers (Org.). William James writings 1878-1899. New York: The Library of America, 1992 [1898]. p. 1077-97. _____. The Chicago school. In: Green, C. D. (Org.). Classics of the history of psychology, 2002 [1904]. Dispo- nível em: <http://psychclassics.yorku.ca/James/chicago.htm>. Acess. em: 10 out. 2007. McDermott, J. J. (Org.). The philosophy of John Dewey. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1981. Menand, L. The Metaphysical Club: a story of ideas in America. New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 2001. Misak, C. (Ed.). The Cambridge companion to Peirce. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Myers (Org.). William James writings 1878-1899. New York: The Library of America, 1992. Peirce, C. S. Philosophy and the conduct of life. In: Houser, N. (Ed.). The essential Peirce: selected philoso- phical writings. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998 [1898]. v. 2: 1893-1913, p. 27-41. _____. Tríades. Tradução J. T. C. Neto. In: Guinsburg, J. (Ed.). Semiótica. São Paulo: Perspectiva, 2000a [1885]. p. 9-18. (Coleção Estudos, 46). _____. O que é o pragmatismo. Tradução J. T. C. Neto. In: Guinsburg, J. (Ed.). Semiótica. São Paulo: Pers- pectiva, 2000b [1905]. p. 283-99. (Coleção Estudos, 46). Pihlström, S. Peirce’s place in the pragmatist tradition. In: Misak, C. (Ed.). The Cambridge companion to Peirce. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2004. p. 27-57. Savery, W. The significance of Dewey’s philosophy. In: Schilpp, P. A . (Ed.). The philosophy of John Dewey. Chicago: Northwestern University, 1939. p. 481-513 (The Library of Living Philosophers, 1). Schilpp, P. A . (Ed.). The philosophy of John Dewey. Chicago: Northwestern University, 1939. (The Library of Living Philosophers, 1). Skrupskelis, I. K. & Berkeley, E. M. (Org.). The correspondence of William James. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1995. v. 4. Talisse, R. B. How James kidnapped Peirce. Streams of William James, 2, 1, p. 7-10, 2000. Weiszflog, W. (Ed.). Michaelis: moderno dicionário da língua portuguesa. São Paulo: Melhoramentos, 1998. 
work_5rzux7yfxnd2djrlt5v24mdjqa	----	Durham Research Online Deposited in DRO: 01 August 2018 Version of attached �le: Accepted Version Peer-review status of attached �le: Peer-reviewed Citation for published item: Finch-Race, D. A. and Weber, J. (2017) '�Editorial : l'�ecocritique fran�caise.', L'Esprit cr�eateur., 57 (1). pp. 1-8. Further information on publisher's website: https://doi.org/10.1353/esp.2017.0000 Publisher's copyright statement: Copyright c© <2017> The Johns Hopkins University Press. This article �rst appeared in L'Esprit Cr�eateur, VVolume 57, Number 1, Spring 2017, pages 1-8. 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Durham University Library, Stockton Road, Durham DH1 3LY, United Kingdom Tel : +44 (0)191 334 3042 | Fax : +44 (0)191 334 2971 https://dro.dur.ac.uk https://www.dur.ac.uk https://doi.org/10.1353/esp.2017.0000 http://dro.dur.ac.uk/25750/ https://dro.dur.ac.uk/policies/usepolicy.pdf https://dro.dur.ac.uk Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 1 / 6 L’Esprit Créateur 57.1 (2017) (3302) Éditorial : L’écocritique française Daniel A. FINCH-RACE et Julien WEBER Les phénomènes climatiques préoccupants de l’Anthropocène nous invitent à repenser notre impact local et global sur l’environnement. À cet égard, la critique littéraire s’est avérée particulièrement féconde au cours des dernières décennies. On assiste, depuis le début des années quatre-vingt-dix, au développement de l’écocritique, un champ d’étude interdisciplinaire foisonnant qui se donne pour objet l’étude des rapports entre environnements et productions culturelles. Sous l’impulsion de chercheurs tels que Lawrence Buell, Karen Warren et Dana Phillips1, l’écocritique a attiré notre attention sur la manière dont les pratiques esthétiques contribuent à reconfigurer notre rapport au monde naturel, sur les analogies possibles entre écosystèmes et espaces poétiques, et sur le rôle des animaux dans la littérature. Malgré la variété de ces approches, les humanités environnementales demeurent en grande partie liées à la théorie anglophone. Comme le note Stephanie Posthumus, la critique littéraire d’expression française accuse, en effet, un certain retard par rapport au monde intellectuel anglophone2. Alors que la relecture des transcendentalistes américains (Henry Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson3) ou des poètes romantiques anglais (Percy Shelley, William Wordsworth4) a donné lieu à la mise à jour d’un « green script » (Buell 33), le développement de l’écocritique en France s’est longtemps heurté à diverses résistances, qu’ il s’agisse de l’identification de toute pensée écologique à un antihumanisme (Luc Ferry5) ou d’une certaine méfiance de la critique littéraire à l’égard du réalisme méthodologique qui marque la première vague de l’écocritique américaine (Catherine Larrère, Jean-Marie Schaeffer 6). De toute évidence, l’essai non fictionnel de nature writing7 qui a servi de base théorique à l’écocritique américaine apparaît depuis la France comme un phénomène culturel propre à l’histoire du Nouveau Monde8. Les représentations de la nature qui émanent d’Europe continentale n’ont été que très rarement informées par le même sentiment de dévotion envers la nature sauvage qui caractérise les traditions préservationnistes des pays anglo-saxons depuis le dix-neuvième siècle9. Cependant, les différences culturelles entre la France et l’Amérique du Nord n’ont pas constitué qu’un frein au développement de la pensée écologique en France. Elles ont aussi permis l’élaboration de discours alternatifs sur l’environnement qui, au lieud’accentuer la polarité entre homme et nature, s’attachent à penser cette dernière comme une entité multiforme et inextricablement liée aux projets de l’humanité. Comme le souligne Kerry Whiteside, on assiste dès les années soixante à l’émergence d’une écologie politique pour qui les exigences de justice sociale vont de pair avec la protection de l’environnement10. Félix Guattari, en soutenant que les crises écologiques sont la conséquence directe de l’expansion du capitalisme mondial, plaide dans les années quatre-vingt pour la multiplication de pratiques collectives susceptibles de rendre le monde habitable11. Pour Guattari, l’écologie environnementale devient indissociable d’une écologie sociale et d’une écologie mentale qui se préoccupent respectivement de réhabiliter les sources de solidarité et de singularité menacées par le capitalisme (Guattari 22-23). Dans un style différent, Michel Serres cherche dès le début des années quatre-vingt-dix à mettre en place une éthique écologique qui dépasse le dualisme nature/culture. Dans Le contrat naturel, Serres affirme la nécessité d’établir un contrat avec la nature en vertu des rapports d’interdépendance qui nous lient à elle. Ce « contrat naturel de symbiose et de réciprocité » (Serres 67) nous oblige à une attitude plus respectueuse envers l’environnement naturel ; il fait accéder la nature au « droit de l’hôte » (Serres 67) sans pour autant lui attribuer des qualités humaines qu’elle ne possède pas : « En Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 2 / 6 fait la Terre nous parle en termes de forces, de liens et d’interactions, et cela suffit à faire un contrat » (Serres 69). Les démarches de Guattari et Serres ont déjà reçu plusieurs échos dans le champ de l’écocritique. Cependant, comme Stephanie Posthumus le remarque, la critique s’est montrée jusqu’à présent beaucoup plus réticente à interroger et analyser « les attitudes, représentations et traditions de la nature en France »12, soit à tenir compte de spécificités culturelles susceptibles d’enrichir les débats actuels sur l’environnement. Dans ce numéro de L’Esprit Créateur, nous voudrions faire un pas dans ce sens en mettant en valeur des manières de penser l’environnement issues de contextes géographiques, de cultures et de traditions philosophiques français et francophones. Parler de l’écocritique française ne revient pas pour autant à suggérer qu’il existe une approche française qui s’opposerait systématiquement à une approche anglo-saxonne. Il serait aussi illusoire que contre-productif de séparer les réseaux de recherche de l’écocritique contemporaine en catégories nationales ou linguistiques, dans la mesure où l’écocritique s’est imposée comme un espace d’échanges entre chercheurs de plusieurs nationalités et de plusieurs cultures13. Si nous avons jugé bienvenu d’illustrer la diversité des réflexions écologiques issues de contextes francophones, c’est pour donner visibilité à des aspects de l’écocritique qu’une approche globale pourrait occulter. Les études sur l’imaginaire environnemental des transcendentalistes américains constituent certes un jalon fondamental dans l’écocritique. Il pourrait néanmoins s’avérer réducteur d’invoquer les concepts dérivés de ces études comme des universaux dont toutes les autres cultures devraient nous proposer des variantes particulières. Selon nous, l’écocritique a besoin de se pencher sur les différentes manières dont les questions environnementales ont été posées dans les textes littéraires d’autres cultures et d’autres traditions, au lieu de chercher les équivalents de Thoreau ou Wordsworth. Ce numéro novateur de L’Esprit Créateur réunit des chercheurs affiliés à des universités françaises, britanniques et américaines qui proposent dix manières variées de penser l’écologie à partir de contextes français et francophones. L’un des objectifs principaux de notre numéro consiste à proposer des lectures écocritiques d’œuvres d’expression française dont les enjeux écologiques n’ont pas encore été mis à jour. S’il pourrait sembler légèrement anachronique d’invoquer une conscience écologique chez des auteurs du dix-neuvième siècle, il est indéniable que les mouvements artistiques et littéraires de l’ère industrielle ont souvent contribué à reconfigurer notre rapport à l’environnement naturel. Dans le premier article du numéro, « Jules Verne, l’homme et la terre : Une lecture écocritique des Voyages extraordinaires », Lionel Dupuy soutient notamment que certaines considérations écologiques que l’on tient pour récentes sont en fait déjà présentes dans l’œuvre de Jules Verne. Alors que cet écrivain a souvent été présenté comme un éternel optimiste du progrès, Dupuy fait valoir la manière dont les Voyages extraordinaires interrogent les dérives de la société industrielle et dramatisent l’exploration de rapports inédits entre l’homme et son environnement. Verne, en introduisant l’espace au cœur de son projet romanesque, cherche à donner accès à des mondes inconnus, où le dualisme entre nature et culture n’est pas tenu pour norme. À travers des lectures proches de plusieurs passages évocateurs des romans de Verne, Dupuy met en évidence l’ambition vernienne de sensibiliser le lecteur à la nécessité de concilier développement économique et écologie. Dans le deuxième article du numéro, « The Climate of Naturalism : Zola’s Atmospheres », Jessica Tanner discute les implications écologiques du naturalisme d’Émile Zola. Par une analyse du rôle du climat dans les histoires sérialisées de la famille Rougon- Macquart, Tanner montre que Zola sollicite le double sens du mot temps (le temps qu’il fait, Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 3 / 6 le temps qui passe) pour compliquer la conception du climat comme phénomène local. Chez Zola, le climat sert non seulement à évoquer l’atmosphère d’un lieu particulier, mais aussi à révéler l’interdépendance entre sites et intrigues. Dans la lignée de Jacques Rancière et Fredric Jameson14, Tanner attribue une fonction dramatique aux excès descriptifs de la prose de Zola et interprète l’évocation du climat comme un moyen par lequel l’écrivain naturaliste restaure une agentivité aux choses muettes dans l’espace du roman. Dans le troisième article du numéro, « L’inspiration naturelle chez Mallarmé dans ‘Las de l’amer repos’ », c’est aux enjeux écocritiques du symbolisme de Stéphane Mallarmé que Daniel Finch-Race s’intéresse. Au moyen d’une lecture proche du poème « Las de l’amer repos », Finch-Race suggère que la nature s’impose chez Mallarmé comme une nouvelle source d’inspiration au sortir de la fameuse crise de Tournon vers 1864. Finch-Race discute la façon dont les nombreux motifs d’improductivité dans la première partie du poème cèdent la place dans la deuxième moitié à des représentations picturales de la nature qui apaisent l’esprit du narrateur captivé par le minimalisme de la peinture chinoise. L’analyse écopoétique de Finch-Race se concentre sur l’évocation du paysage dans le poème afin de mettre en valeur le changement d’esthétique envisagé par Mallarmé. Dans le quatrième article du numéro, « Fromentin on cactus grandiflora : The Aesthetics of Ecology in Une année dans le Sahel », Pauline de Tholozany nous invite à réfléchir aux implications de l’écologie dans la peinture du dix-neuvième siècle. Elle met en évidence la recherche chez Fromentin d’un nouveau mode de représentation, littéraire et pictural, qui soit susceptible de représenter les aspects biologiques du vivant sans sacrifier l’expression du vrai, c’est-à-dire sans se limiter aux normes des discours taxinomiques et orientalistes. La pratique de l’art pictural donne lieu à des interrogations d’ordre écologique : recourant au concept de « mesh » de Timothy Morton15 (qui pourrait se traduire en français par réseau), Tholozany démontre qu’une certaine écologie picturale est à l’œuvre chez Fromentin lorsqu’il assigne à la peinture l’ambition de rendre compte des rapports d’interdépendance entre les choses et de représenter les phénomènes dans leur habitat. Si une relecture écocritique des classiques de la littérature française du dix-neuvième siècle s’impose aujourd’hui, notre numéro spécial tient également à rendre compte de la variété des approches écocritiques dans le monde français et francophone contemporain. Dans le cinquième article du numéro, « Vincent, Joseph, Paul et les autres : Voix et figures de paysans dans la fiction française contemporaine », Anne-Rachel Hermetet soutient qu’un imaginaire environnemental propre à la France contemporaine s’affirme dans le roman rural. Bien que les romans de la terre soient souvent identifiés à une littérature régionaliste et conservatrice, Hermetet démontre que les écrivains contemporains Jean-Loup Trassard, Marie-Hélène Lafon et Stéphanie Chaillou s’attachent à représenter un monde paysan en pleine mutation. Dans leurs romans, il s’agit de décrire sur un mode presque ethnologique comment les métiers de la terre et les identités se transforment, au lieu de se complaire dans l’évocation nostalgique d’un locus amoenus. Hermetet fait valoir le point de vue respectueux que ces écrivains adoptent à l’égard d’un monde en passe de disparaître. Les rapports entre littérature et environnement ne sont pourtant pas seulement l’apanage du genre réaliste dans la production francophone contemporaine. A cet égard, la remise en cause d’un modèle mimétique souvent invoqué dans l’écocritique (Phillips 7-8) trouve un écho favorable dans les romans de science-fiction d’un auteur à succès comme Bernard Werber. Dans le sixième article du numéro, « Bernard Werber’s Poetics of Ecological Reconstruction : ‘In Praise of Amnesia’ ? », Lucile Desblache montre en effet que la fiction spéculative chez Bernard Werber, – dans la lignée de Jules Verne, – ne se limite pas à un imaginaire sociopolitique catastrophiste, mais consiste au contraire à imaginer d’autres Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 4 / 6 rapports à la Terre ainsi que des rapports inédits avec d’autres espèces. Desblache nous invite également à considérer la diversité du corpus français en matière d’écologie : alors qu’on aurait tendance à associer l’écocritique française à une littérature stylée, soucieuse de forme, Werber prend au contraire le parti d’une prose efficace influencée par la science-fiction américaine. La place particulière qu’occupent les animaux dans la littérature et la philosophie contemporaines justifie également la discussion d’une écocritique d’expression française. Comme Anne Simon le souligne, les études littéraires sur l’animalité se sont développées de manières très différentes dans les domaines français et anglophone16. La critique biocentrique de l’humanisme, notamment, qui est très présente dans le monde anglo-saxon, n’est pas nécessairement reprise par des penseurs comme Élisabeth de Fontenay et Dominique Lestel qui revendiquent le droit de déconstruire le propre de l’homme sans pour autant souscrire à tous les idéaux de l’anti-spécisme17. Dans le septième article du numéro, « Du peuplement animal au naufrage de l’Arche : La littérature entre zoopoétique et zoopoéthique », Anne Simon plaide pour une poétique du vivant susceptible de rendre compte des différents modes sur lesquels l’expression littéraire donne forme à des manières animales d’habiter le monde. Au lieu de discourir sur l’animalité, les textes littéraires convoqués par Simon contribuent à enrichir notre perception des rapports que les bêtes entretiennent avec les humains. Récusant toute approche systématique, Simon s’attarde sur les expériences singulières que la fréquentation d’animaux inspire aux écrivains, qu’il s’agisse de l’entre-temps des poèmes animaliers de Claude Roy ou du partage rythmique avec d’autres vivants auquel Jacques Lacarrière fait honneur dans ses proses. Pour Simon, la poétique du vivant se mue en une zoopoéthique dans la mesure où elle met en lumière la place indispensable de chaque espèce animale dans l’arche où nous nous trouvons embarqués. Les huitième et neuvième articles du numéro se concentrent sur le rôle décisif que jouent les animaux dans le travail de deux artistes francophones contemporains : Wajdi Mouawad et Joann Sfar. Dans le huitième article, « Composer avec les animaux dans Anima de Wajdi Mouawad », Julien Weber entreprend d’interroger la manière singulière dont Mouawad imagine une intrigue entièrement prise en charge par le point de vue d’animaux- témoins. À chaque chapitre du roman, nous nous trouvons en effet exposés à un monde animal – parent proche des Umwelten du biologiste Jakob von Uexküll18 – à partir duquel les faits de l’intrigue nous sont communiqués. La tragédie d’un homme lancé sur la trace de l’assassin de son épouse se trouve ainsi traversée de regards animaux qui nous invitent à réévaluer ses enjeux. Weber suggère que l’agentivité attribuée par Mouawad aux animaux nous permet de compliquer les rôles de sujet et d’objet qui sont d’ordinaire attribués aux acteurs humains et non humains. Dans le neuvième article du numéro, « At the Intersection of Ecocriticism and the Colonial Maghreb : Antoine Delesvaux and Joann Sfar’s Le chat du rabbin », Laura Klein affirme que l’animal s’impose comme un agent indispensable à la pensée de communautés hybrides. Bien qu’on ait souvent relevé les divergences de problématiques et de méthodes entre l’écocritique et les études postcoloniales, Klein soutient que la représentation par Antoine Delesvaux et Joann Sfar de l’Alger des années trente comme un lieu de métissage va de pair, dans Le chat du rabbin, avec le brouillage de la frontière homme-animal dont le chat- narrateur est l’agent. Le concept d’hybridité culturelle développé par Homi Bhabha dans les années quatre-vingt-dix19 gagne ainsi à être revisité à l’aulne d’une pensée de la pluralité des mondes inaugurée autour des mêmes années par Bruno Latour20. Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 5 / 6 Finalement, ce numéro spécial consacré à l’écocritique française débouche sur un essai-manifeste pour l’avenir des humanités environnementales. Dans le dixième et dernier article du numéro, « Pas de côté dans l’écocritique francophone », Nathalie Blanc, Clara Breteau et Bertrand Guest nous invitent à repenser l’écocritique sur d’autres bases que celles qui ont jusqu’ici caractérisé la production d’expression française. Au-delà d’un héritage transcendantal et humaniste qui informe – parfois à son insu – l’écocritique, c’est à partir de la pensée pragmatique et contextualisée des Nouveaux Matérialismes21 que les rapports complexes et fluctuants entre nature et culture devraient être abordés. Pour Blanc, Breteau et Guest, l’écocritique fait fausse route lorsqu’elle se cantonne à une étude thématique des textes littéraires canonisés. Elle devrait au contraire s’ouvrir aux langages ordinaires, à la culture populaire et aux multiples réseaux de signes qui structurent les rapports sociaux, afin d’intervenir plus pertinemment dans l’espace public. C’est à leurs yeux la repolitisation de l’ écocritique qui est ici en jeu. University of Southampton / Middlebury College 1 Lawrence Buell, The Environmental Imagination : Thoreau, Nature Writing, and the Formation of American Culture (Cambridge, MA : Belknap, 1995). Karen J. Warren, Ecofeminist Philosophy : A Western Perspective on What It Is and Why It Matters (Lanham, MD : Rowman & Littlefield, 2000). Dana Phillips, The Truth of Ecology : Nature, Culture, and Literature in America (Oxford : Oxford University Press, 2003). 2 Stephanie Posthumus, « Penser l’imagination environnementale française sous le signe de la différence », Raison Publique, 17 (2012) : 16. 3 Christopher J. Windolph, Emerson’s Nonlinear Nature (Columbia, MO : University of Missouri Press, 2007). Michael Ziser, Environmental Practice and Early American Literature (Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 2013). Robert M. Thorson, Walden’s Shore : Henry David Thoreau and Nineteenth-Century Science (Cambridge, MA : Harvard University Press, 2014). 4 Jonathan Bate, The Song of the Earth (Londres : Picador, 2000). Scott Hess, William Wordsworth and the Ecology of Authorship : The Roots of Environmentalism in Nineteenth- Century Culture (Charlottesville : University of Virginia Press, 2012). Heidi C. M. Scott, Chaos and Cosmos : Literary Roots of Modern Ecology in the British Nineteenth Century (University Park : Pennsylvania State University Press, 2014). 5 Luc Ferry, Le nouvel ordre écologique : L’arbre, l’animal et l’homme (Paris : Grasset, 1992). 6 Catherine Larrère, « Éthiques de l’environnement », Multitudes, 24 (2006) : 80. Jean-Marie Schaeffer, Petite écologie des études littéraires : Pourquoi et comment étudier la littérature (Vincennes : Marchaisse, 2011). 7 Tom Pughe et Michel Granger, « Introduction », Revue Française d’Études Américaines, 106 (2005) : 4. 8 Catherine Larrère, Les philosophies de l’environnement (Paris : Presses universitaires de France, 1997), 5. 9 Michel Serres, Le contrat naturel (Paris : Flammarion, 1999), 60. 10 Kerry H. Whiteside, Divided Natures : French Contributions to Political Ecology (Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2002), 32. Finch-Race & Weber, ‘Éditorial’ Page 6 / 6 11 Félix Guattari, Les trois écologies (Paris : Galilée, 1989). 12 Stephanie Posthumus, « Vers une écocritique française : Le contrat naturel de Michel Serres », Mosaic, 44.2 (2011) : 87. 13 Ursula K. Heise, « The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Ecocriticism », Publications of the Modern Language Association of America, 121.2 (2006) : 503-16. Lucile Desblache, « Introduction : Profil d’une éco-littérature », L’Esprit Créateur, 46.2 (2006) : 1-4. Nathalie Blanc, Denis Chartier et Thomas Pughe, « Littérature & écologie : Vers une écopoétique », Écologie & Politique, 36 (2008) : 17-28. Axel Goodbody et Kate Rigby, dir., Ecocritical Theory : New European Approaches (Charlottesville, VA : University of Virginia Press, 2011). Alain Romestaing, Pierre Schoentjes et Anne Simon, « Essor d’une conscience littéraire de l’environnement », Revue Critique de Fixxion Française Contemporaine, 11 (2015) : 1-5. Douglas L. Boudreau et Marnie M. Sullivan, dir., Ecocritical Approaches to Literature in French (Lanham, MD : Lexington, 2015). Daniel A. Finch-Race et Julien Weber, « Editorial : The Ecocritical Stakes of French Poetry from the Industrial Era », Dix-Neuf, 19.3 (2015) : 159-66. 14 Jacques Rancière, La parole muette : Essai sur les contradictions de la littérature (Paris : Hachette, 1998) ; Le partage du sensible : Esthétique et politique (Paris : La Fabrique, 2000) ; Le destin des images (Paris : La Fabrique, 2003) ; Le spectateur émancipé (Paris : La Fabrique, 2008). Fredric Jameson, The Antinomies of Realism (Brooklyn : Verso, 2013). 15 Timothy Morton, The Ecological Thought (Cambridge, MA : Harvard University Press, 2010), 28. 16 Anne Simon, « Animality and Contemporary French Literary Studies : Overview and Perspectives », dans French Thinking about Animals, Louisa Mackenzie et Stephanie Posthumus, dir. (East Lansing : Michigan State University Press, 2015), 75-88. 17 Élisabeth de Fontenay, Sans offenser le genre humain : Réflexions sur la cause animale (Paris : Albin Michel, 2008). Dominique Lestel, L’animal est l’avenir de l’homme (Paris : Fayard, 2010). 18 Jakob von Uexküll, Umwelt und Innenwelt der Tiere (Berlin : Springer, 1909). 19 Homi K. Bhabha, The Location of Culture (New York : Routledge, 1994). 20 Bruno Latour, Nous n’avons jamais été modernes : Essai d’anthropologie symétrique (Paris : La Découverte, 1997) ; Politiques de la nature : Comment faire entrer les sciences en démocratie (Paris : La Découverte, 1999). 21 Rick Dolphijn et Iris van der Tuin, New Materialism : Interviews & Cartographies (Ann Arbor, MI : Open Humanities, 2012). 
work_5x6vzev2kzgxvla7sf53xoc2le	----	AMS volume 13 issue 2 Cover and Back matter New books from Paperback edition Red, Black, and Green Black Nationalism in the United States ALPHONSO PINKNEY An analysis of the history of black nationalism in the United States which concentrates on the ascendancy of the phenomenon during the peak years of the 1960s and early 1970s. ' This is one of the best of a number of publications on black nationalism.... It is scholarly, yet is written in a language that can easily be understood, and appreciated by the lay public' Sociology Paperback £3.95 net Crisis and Legitimacy The Administrative Process and American Government JAMES O. FREEDMAN ' . . . very original in thought and very impressive in presentation. It is, no doubt, an important contribution to the study of administrative law.' Itzhak Zamir, Attorney General of Israel * . . . an admirable study of administrative action, a study conducted at every level. «. .* Andre" Tune in the International Review of Comparative Law £11.50 net The Economic Rise of Early America GARY M. WALTON and JAMES F. SHEPHERD The authors analyse the development of the colonial economy from the early settlement days to the period of the Revolutionary War. They examine the economy in terms of significant commodities and their regional and international markets, and then evaluate the effects of commercial developments in these areas upon urbanisation as well as shipping and trade. Hard covers £11.50 net Paperback £3.95 net One Kind of Freedom The Economic Consequences of Emancipation ROGER RANSOM and RICHARD SUTCH The authors contend that the kind of freedom permitted to negroes in the post-emancipation southern states of America produced substantial increases in their economic welfare, but at the same time curtailed further black advancement and retarded economic development in the late nineteenth century. Hard covers £1730 net Paperback £630 net CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS A M . S T . b»c\ (i) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE EAGLE ENTANGLED U.S. Foreign policy in a Complex World Oye, Rothchild and Lieber Over the past decade, the task of developing a coherent and effective American foreign policy has become increasingly difficult. This volume discusses the consequences of these changes. Why have American i policy options narrowed? How well has the Carter administration coped j with these changes? Are these trends likely to persist, and need they j confound policy makers in the 1980's? In addressing these questions the authors move from chapters on the domestic and international ! setting of foreign policy to ten critical issues including the Soviet Union, [ Eurocommunism the Arab-Israeli dispute and nuclear expansion. Available August 363 pages Paper 582 29002 3 £6.95 net Longman s« The Rockefeller Foundation announces TWO INTERNATIONAL PROGRAMS at the BELLAGIO STUDY AND CONFERENCE CENTER Bellagio (Como), Italy International Conferences—small conferences or working groups focusing on topics or problems of international significance. Scholars in Residence—an opportunity for scholars to work for approximately four weeks on individual projects. The Foundation provides the facilities of the Center, located about 40 miles north of Milan, on a competitive basis to residents and conference organizers. It normally does not pay for related costs, such as transportation, of the participants in these two programs. For more information, write: MS. SUSAN E. GARFIELD, COORDINATOR BELLAGIO STUDY AND CONFERENCE CENTER THE ROCKEFELLER FOUNDATION 1133 AVENUE OF THE AMERICAS NEW YORK. NEW YORK 10036 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core Oxford University Press The Populist Movement A Short History of the Agrarian Revolt in America Lawrence Goodwyn This is an abridged edition of Professor Goodwyn's Democratic Promise (£12,1978), which has been recognized as the basic study of the Populist Movement in America. 'This book is about the decline of freedom in America,' says the author, and he proceeds to overturn three generations of historical literature on Populism and to cast a radically new light on what he calls the undemocratic 'progressive society' of twentieth-century America. Paper covers £2-95 Galaxy Books Slave Religion The 'Invisible Institution' in the Antebellum South Albert J. Raboteau This book studies the Black religious experience under slavery from its African roots through its reinterpretation and reconstitution under Christianity. The author examines the influence of African religious perspectives on the ideology of Christianity and the special way in which Black slaves converted the expression of religiosity into one of the most creative experiences of the Black in servitude. Illustrated £7-95 A Feast of Words The Triumph of Edith Wharton Cynthia Griffin Wolff A product of the most aristocratic element of New York society in the late nineteenth century, a society that positively discouraged women from any occupation save motherhood and becoming a good hostess. Edith Wharton seemed the most unlikely sort of person to be a writer. Yet she became a great novelist. How and why she did so is explained in this full-scale examination of Edith Wharton's works and of her unpublished autobiographical recollec- tions and fiction. This is a paperback edition of the book first published in 1977 and still available in cloth at £8-25. Illustrated paper covers £3-50 Galaxy Books Representative Man Ralph Waldo Emerson in his Time Joel Porte This is a new biographical study of one of the great American writers. The book is divided into the four seasons of Emerson's life: 'Rites of Spring'; 'A Summer of Discontent: Emerson in 1838'; 'The Fall of Man'; and 'A Winter's Tale: The Elder Emerson'. Each part starts with a brief biogra- phical and chronological sketch, then discusses the events and works which together convey the best intellectual portrait of Emerson at that period of his life. Illustrated £8-50 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core Oxford University Press Seven Days a Week Women and Domestic Service in Industrializing America David M. Katzman The industrialization of America brought about massive changes in most sectors of American life. In at least one sector, however—the household—the effects were minimized by the presence and persistence of domestic servants. In this investigation of domestic service in America between the Civil War and the First World War, the author presents a vivid picture of the limitations and hardships faced by the servants, describes servant-employer relations, and shows how the kind of people in service changed as new occupations in shop, factory, and office opened up to women. £7-75 Democracy and the Novel Popular Resistance to Classic American Writers Henry Nash Smith This book discusses problems arising from the relation between certain major American novelists of the nineteenth century and American popular culture of the period. While the writers of the time had to make some contact with the new mass audience if their work was to survive, they actively resisted it. Among the novelists discussed in this reinterpretation of nineteenth-century American literature are Hawthorne and Melville, William Dean Howells, Mark Twain, and Henry James. £7-25 A Companion to California James D. Hart The author of the Oxford Companion to American Literature has followed the model of that book, and of other Oxford Companions, in compiling this reference book to the State of California: its climate, people, architecture, literature, education, flora, fauna, etc. There are over a thousand entries on topics ranging from hotels, banks, newspapers, and missions, to figures from the world of politics, films, and popular music. £10 The Last Romantic The Life of Max Eastman William L. O'Neill Max Eastman's great creation was his own life. A key figure on the American cultural scene for over half a century, Eastman was a prominent member of the Bohemian set in Greenwich Village, was put on trial for his anti-war opinions, edited The Liberator, a radical magazine, after World War I, was one of the first American intellectuals to live in Soviet Russia, later turned against Stalinism and wrote significant books criticizing Russian communism, and then threw away his new-found respectability by joining the Readers' Digest. Illustrated £8-50 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core HBJ New textbooks from HARCOURT BRACE JO VANO VICH LTD 24-28 Oval Road, London NW1 THE POLITICS OF POWER 2nd editio" A Critical Introduction to American Government Ira Katznelson AO£ rc ...o . j H.M • IT- • 496 pp.. £6.45 (Paper) and Mark Kesselman 0.15.570746.9 This Second Edition of The Politics of Power continues to provide a critical analysis of contemporary American political institutions— one that emphasizes the structure of society and the power relation- ships between corporate capitalism and the government. It reflects the authors' point of view that the organizational structure of corporate production and the intimate relationship between government and corporate capitalism are directly responsible for the persistent inequalities in American society. WHY THEY CALL IT POLITICS 3rd cduion A Guide to America's Government r» u 4. c u MI x v i + 3 8 2 PP-. £ 5 - 2 0 (Paper) Robert Shernll 0.15.596002.4 A witty, provocative and immensely readable survey of the American political system by one of America's best-known political journalists. Sherrill's knowledgeable approach to our political institutions is irresistible to readers of all persuasions. For this edition the author has rewritten every chapter, paying particular attention to the Presidency, energy and resources and the economy, and has added a new chapter on domestic policy. DEMOCRACY UNDER PRESSURE 3rd edili°» An Introduction to the American Political System Milton C. Cummings _,, , . . . . , „ . ... j - . . j n T . ° 716 pp., £10.35 (Cloth) and David Wise 0.15.517340.5 The Third Edition of this extraordinarily successful introduction to American government maintains the aims, techniques, and outstanding features so widely praised in earlier editions: it combines a critical yet balanced examination of the structure and processes of the American political system—one that focuses not only on the very considerable achievements of the system but on its shortcomings as well—with a contemporary viewpoint and a clear, highly readable style. The authors, one a distinguished political scientist, the other a leading political writer, present American government and political institutions in historical context but consistently relate them to con- temporary issues. The result is a textbook that is stimulating, exciting, authoritative, and comprehensive. Inspection copies available from the publisher A M . S T . — b a c \ (2) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Winner of the 1979 Frederick Jackson Turner Award FINLEY PETER DUNNE & MR. DOOLEY The Chicago Years Charles Fanning "Highly recommended to anyone interested in American history and literature" — Choice. 296 pages Illustrations $14.50 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS OF KENTUCKY LEXINGTON 40506 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S F O R C O N T R I B U T O R S 1 All contributions and editorial correspondence should be sent to: The Editor, Journal of American Studies, School of English and American Studies, University of East Anglia, Norwich N R 4 7TJ, England. 2 Articles should generally contain about 5,000 words. Longer or shorter articles, or articles in two or more parts, may be accepted by arrange­ ment with the Editors. 3 Submission of an article is taken to imply that it has not previously been published, and is not being considered for publication elsewhere. 4 Contributions should be clearly typed in double spacing (including footnotes), preferably on A4 paper, with a wide left-hand margin. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 https://www.cambridge.org/core Volume 13 Number 2 August 1979 Journal of American Studies Kennedy, Congress and Civil Rights 165 J O H N H A R T Climate, Health and Black Labor in the English Americas 179 G A R Y P U C K R E I N Slave Trading in the Ante-Bellum South: A n Estimate of the Extent of the Inter-Regional Slave Trade 195 M I C H A E L T A D M A N Proletarian Literature and the John Reed Clubs 1929-1935 221 E R I C H O M B E R G E R Theories of American Labour Violence R H O D R I J E F F R E Y S - J O N E S Review Essay 2 4 5 Women as Poets 265 D I A N A C O L L E C O T T S U R M A N Reviews 271 © Cambridge University Press 1979 Cambridge University Press The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge CB2 iRP 32 East 57th Street, New York, N Y 10022 Printed in Great Britain by The Eastern Press Ltd, London and Reading terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800011385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 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work_5zzjcpxlzzdevaurw2dnu67dwa	----	A'ssociation Affairs The Boston Meetings of the Association: A Bit of Background Raymond L. Taylor Associate Administrative Secretary THE 120th Meeting of the AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE, the annual meet- ing for the year 1953, is also, officially, the Seventh Boston Meeting. The AAAS was conceived in Boston 106 years ago and, in some respects, this can be con- sidered the ninth meeting in Boston and the tenth on the banks of the Charles-since the precursor of the Association met twice in that city and the young AAAS held its second meeting in Cambridge, in 1849. This year's gathering of scientists, industrial leaders, administrators, educators, engineers, and other sci- ence-minded professional people from all over the continent will come together for a common purpose suggested by the theme: "Scientific Resources for Freedom." In the final week of the year, it will be time once more to take stock both of current scientific research and of the problems that confront all scien- tists. Particular attention will be given to the nation's resources of scientific men, materials, and methods. In meeting in Boston, again, the Association is re- turning to the city where its founding was planned and authorized, on September 24, 1847. It was at the eighth and terminal meeting of the Association of American Geologists and Naturalists on this date, more than a century ago, that the decision was made to reorganize the society as an enlarged American Association for the Promotion of Science. The chair- man of the society at that time was William Barton Rog,ers (1804-1882), professor of geology and natu- ral history in the University of Virginia, who, later, was to select Boston in which to found the Massachu- setts Institute of Technology and to serve as its first president. When the new organization, renamed the AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE, met in Philadelphia, September 20, 1848, a special resolution was passed that Professor Rogers, last president of the AAGN, henceforth should be rec- ognized as the first president of the AAAS, and, in fact, he presided until his elected successor, William C. Redfield of New York, took office. The AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE has other links with Boston and the Com- monwealth of Massachusetts, from which, in 1874, it received its charter of incorporation. In 1837, John Collins Warren of Boston read a paper hefore the British Association for the Advancement of Science and was so impressed with the value of one large meet- ing devoted to all the sciences that, upon his return the following year, he began the active promotion of a parallel organization in America. He, too, was pres- ent at the September 1847 meeting when the AAGN was reorganized. Since the British Association for the Advancement of Science, founded in 1831, is the pro- totype of the AAAS and of all similar associations for the advancement of science subsequently estab- lished throughout the world, it is particularly appro- priate that a recent past president of the British Asso- ciation, Dr. A. V. Hill, will deliver an address at this Seventh Boston-Meeting. The official First Boston Meeting of the AAAS, held in August, 1880, at Massachusetts Institute of Tech- nology, then located between Copley Square and the Public Gardens, was an occasion, scientific and social, long to be remembered. Lewis H. Morgan, the re- nowned anthropologist, was president of the Asso- ciation, which then had 1,555 members. The address of the retiring president, George F. Barker, an out- standing chemist of the period, was on "Some Modern Aspects of the Life-Question." There were 979 regis- trants from more than 30 states, Canada, England, and Cuba, and 276 papers were read. As first past president of the Association and also as first president and founder of M.I.T., the host institution, it was eminently fitting that William Barton Rogers, though now 76 years of age, should serve as General Chair- man and deliver an address of welcome. The local "Committee at Large" included Charles Francis Adams, Charles W. Eliot, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Asa Gray, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Henry W. Longfellow, Francis Parkman, and Josiah Quincy-to name but a few. Samuel H. Scudder and Edward Burgess were secretaries. In this more leisurely, less complicated period, M.I.T. served complimentary lunches daily. The Presi- dent and Fellows of Harvard University entertained the entire attendance at dinner in Memorial Hall. There were receptions, notably those by President and Mrs. Rogers, Mr. and Mrs. Alexander Graham Bell, Mr. and Mrs. S. Endicott Peabody, and many open houses-including those sponsored by the Athenaeum, the Boston Society of Natural History, the Massachu- setts Historical Society, and the Massachusetts Horti- cultural Society-and the City of Boston provided an excursion boat trip down the harbor complete with a collation. To facilitate reaching the sessions from the downtown hotels, "those cars passing by the Institute [were] designated by a white flag, with the letters A.A.A.S. .. ." The Western Union Telegraph Com- panv and the American Bell Telephone Company transmitted the messages of the delegates gratis, the Post Office arranged to be open on Sunday morning, and the railroads not only had special rates for gen- eral convention travel but operated free trains to the White Mountains. The Fiftieth Anniversary of the Association was celebrated at the Second Boston Meeting of August, 1897, with another distinguished anthropologist, Fred- SCIENCE, Vol. 118224 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ eric W. Putnam, who had served the AAAS as per- manent secretary for 25 years, now the president. M.I.T. again was the host institution. The Copley Square Hotel was AAAS headquarters-with single rooms at $1.00 to $2.50. The address of Wolcott Gibbs, retiring president, and one of five surviving founders of the Association, was "On Some Points in Theoreti- cal Chemistry." The Honorary President, Governor Roger Wolcott, took a personal interest in this meet- ing and delivered an excellent address. The papers read totaled 443 and the registration was 903. Bv the time of the Third Boston Meeting, in 1909, once more on the former campus of M.I.T., the Asso- ciation had changed its time of meeting from summer to the last week of December (primarily, because of the development of summer sessions on campuses), and the pattern of participation by a large number of scientific societies was well established. David Starr Jordan, eminent zoologist and university president, was president of the Association; the retiring presi- dential address, "A Geologic Forecast of the Future Opportunities of Our Race," was given by Thomas C. Chamberlin. Harry W. Tyler was General Chairman. There were 1,140 registrants, making this the largest AAAS meeting up to that time. Among the 404 papers read was "The Chemist's Place in Industry" by Arthur D. Little, founder of the firm which bears his name today. A national Bureau of Mines was recommended by the AAAS. The Fourth Boston Meeting of December, 1922, with the celebrated Canadian anatomist, J. Playfair Mc- Murrich, as president, was held principally on the new campus of M.I.T. though, as on previous occasions, there were events at Harvard University in Cam- bridge. The address of retiring president Eliakim H. Moore was "What Is a Number System?" Professor Samuel C. Prescott of M.I.T. was General Chair- man. The Somerset was AAAS headquarters hotel. The exhibits, arranged for by a committee headed by Robert P. Bigelow, for the first time included a num- ber installed by commercial exhibitors. It is gratifying to note that some of these pioneer exhibitors not only are still in business but will participate in this year's Exposition. The first of the annual addresses of the Society of the Sigma Xi at AAAS meetings was given by President Livingston Farrand of Cornell Univer- sity on "The Nation and Its Health." The papers read totaled 1,019 and the registration was 2,339. All local institutions of higher learning were hosts of the Fifth Boston Meeting of December, 1933. Ses- sions were held, principally, at Harvard, M.I.T., and at the Hotel Statler, AAAS headquarters. The ex- hibits, now the responsibility of a staff member, were in Harvard's Memorial Hall and, in number, exceeded those of all previous Expositions. It was a large and successful meeting despite the extremely low tempera- tures experienced by the entire East during this excep- tional winter. The famous astronomer, Henry Norris Russell, was president of the Association, and presided at the address of the retiring president, John Jacob Abel, eminent pharmiiacologist, on "Poisons and Dis- ease." Again, Samuel C. Prescott served as Geaeral Chairman; A. Lawrence Lowell was Honorary Chair- man. A much appreciated event was a complimentary testimonial concert given by the Boston Symphony Orchestra with Dr. Serge Koussevitsky conducting. The eleventh winner of the AAAS Thousand Dollar Prize was Reuben L. Kahn for the paper, "Tissue Re- actions in Immunity," in the program of Section N. About 1,500 papers were read and there were 2,351 registrants, as usual from nearly every state and Canadian province. Though, again, all local institutions were hosts of the Association, the Sixth Boston Meeting of Decem- ber, 1946, was characterized by a much more intensive use of downtown hotels for session rooms. The Annual Science Exposition was located in the Cadet Armory near the Hotel Statler, AAAS headquarters. President of the Association was James B. Conant; the retiring president, Charles F. Kettering, gave his address, "A Look at the Future of Science," in Symphony Hall. David M. Little of Harvard University was General Chairman. The twentieth winner of the AAAS Thou- sand Dollar Prize was shared equally by T. M. Sonne- born, Ruth V. Dippell, and Winifred Jacobson for several papers on the mechanism of heredity in Para- mnecium., read before the American Society of Zoolo- gists; and by Quentin M. Geiman and Ralph W. McKee for "Cultural Studies on the Nutrition of Malarial Parasites," read before the American So- ciety of Parasitologists. A total of 2,736 persons regis- tered and 1,332 papers were read. The first AAAS- George Westinghouse Science Writing Award was won by James G. Chesnutt of the San Francisco Call- Bulletin for a story on a bubonic plague preventive. In summary, the records of all previous meetings in Boston do not fail to mention the warm spirit of hospitality and interest in the Association and its work shown by the people of this cultural center. The group of cities and suburban communities which com- prise the Boston Metropolitan Area-now with a population of two and one-half millions-has one of the country's greatest concentrations of institutions of higher learning, and of libraries, museums, and scien- tific laboratories. New England is compact and New York is nearby, so that local and regional attendance added to the several thousand persons who will come from all parts of the continent to attend the programs of the Association's 18 sections and subsections, and the national meetings of the zoologists, geneticists, science teachers, meteorologists, the History of Sci- ence Society, and others, may make the Seventh Bos- ton Meeting the second largest in the annals of the Association. In all, in national and regional meetings and cosponsored sessions, some 57 organizations will participate. With sessions for contributed papers, symposia, distinguished evening addresses, and a growing number of conferences, the Seventh Boston Meeting will be one of the most significant annual con- ventions in the long history of the Association. Of August 21, 1953 225S o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ the 15 past presidents of the Association now living, five are residents of New England. It is hoped that they-Karl T. Compton, James B. Conant, Harlow Shapley, Edmund W. Sinnott, and Kirtley F. Mather' -and the others will be able to attend this year's meeting. With its many historical landmarks, Boston itself is worth a visit at any time. Indeed, the "Points of In- terest" are too numerous to describe in this year's Gen- eral Program-Directory. Instead, each registrant will receive a complimentary printed handbook at the Main Registration-Information Center in the Mechan- ics Building. Founded in 1630, since colonial times, Boston has been a seaport, the banking and commer- cial metropolis of New England, and a great industrial center. In recent years, this city has become noted as as the site of new and important developments in chemistry, electronics, and nuclear physics. Many of these new "scientific resources for freedom" will be on display in the 160-booth Annual Exposition of Sci- ence and Industry in Mechanics Building. It is par- ticular fitting that the General Chairman of this year's 120th AAAS meeting is Earl P. Stevenson, president of Arthur D. Little, Inc. Not only is he the leader of a company that has pioneered in the organized appli- cations of science, but he is active in a number of na- tional scientific organizations. His committees-the many persons who are working to make the Seventh Boston Meeting an unqualified success-will be listed later. The fruits of their contributions of time and thought will be apparent to those who attend this year's meeting. The AMERICAN ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF SCIENCE continues to grow, both in personal mem- bership and in affiliated professional societies and, academies of science. In just the seven years since the Sixth Boston Meeting, the AAAS, now with a mem- bership of aproximately 50,000, has experienced a net 1 The other ten living past presidents are Liberty Hyde Bailey, Robert A. Millikan, Henry Norris Russell, Albert F. Blakeslee, Irving Langmuir, Arthur H. Compton, Anton J. Carlson, Charles F. Kettering, Elvin C. Stakman, and Roger Adams. A New AAAS Emblem THE Board of Directors of the Association has ap- proved the design reproduced at the left as a symbol of identification with the AAAS. In the future, this design will appear on the symposium volumes and will be used for other appropriate purposes. The Association will soon make available to its members lapel buttons and pins. (Keys will also be gain of more than 21,000 members. In 1946 there were 200 affiliates and associates; at this time, the number of affiliated and associated organizations is nearly 250. The Association's capacity for service to science, to scientists, and to society has been correspondingly enhanced. Fundamentally, the Association is its mem- bership. Those who attend the Seventh Boston Meeting will do much to help chart its future course. Montana and Wyoming Join the Western Divisions As a result of requests from members in the states of Montana and Wyoming, the question of the incor- poration of these states in the Southwestern and Pacific Divisions of the Association was given careful study by the administrative office. A poll of the mem- bers was taken to determine their preferences. Of the 76 replies received, 69 favored affiliation with one of the Divisions. Wyoming voted 24 to 1 for the South- western Division. The Montana vote was a tie with a majority in the eastern part of the state favoring the Southwestern Division and a majority of those in the west expressing a preference for the Pacific Division. The Executive Committee of the AAAS at its meet- ing December 26-29, 1952, authorized the administra- tive officers to work out an acceptable distribution of Montana between the Divisions and approved the in- corporation of Wyoming into the Southwestern Divi- sion. By action of the Executive Committees and Councils of the two Divisions (the Southwestern Divi- sion at Tempe, Arizona, April 22, 1953, and the Pacific Division at Santa Barbara, California, June 19, 1953), Wyoming and Montana east of the Conti- nental Divide were made a part of the Southwestern Division and Montana west of the Divide was for- mally accepted as part of the Pacific Division. Bozeman, Billings, Great Falls, and Helena are the major Montana membership centers which now be- come part of the Southwestern Division. Missoula, Hamilton, and Butte are now in the territory of the Pacific Division. provided if a sufficient number of orders for them is received.) The size will be identical with the illustra- tion. The scalloped border and the lettering will be in rolled gold, the background in blue enamel, and the torch in red enamel. The key, if provided, will have the basic design superimposed on a black enamel back- ground with a second rolled gold border. Information on prices and how to order insignia will be sent to all members and will appear in our journals in the fall. SCIENCE, Vol. 118226 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ Association Affairs DOI: 10.1126/science.118.3060.224 (3060), 224-226.118Science ARTICLE TOOLS http://science.sciencemag.org/content/118/3060/224.citation PERMISSIONS http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions Terms of ServiceUse of this article is subject to the trademark of AAAS. is a registeredScienceAdvancement of Science, 1200 New York Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20005. The title (print ISSN 0036-8075; online ISSN 1095-9203) is published by the American Association for theScience Copyright © 1953 by the American Association for the Advancement of Science o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/content/118/3060/224.citation http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions http://www.sciencemag.org/about/terms-service http://science.sciencemag.org/ 
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work_6ceq564h75c73dltq3tbop4j74	----	European journal of American studies, 3-3 | 2008 European journal of American studies 3-3 | 2008 Autumn 2008 ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a National Literature and Contemporary American Poetry Ruediger Heinze Electronic version URL: http://journals.openedition.org/ejas/2482 DOI: 10.4000/ejas.2482 ISSN: 1991-9336 Publisher European Association for American Studies Electronic reference Ruediger Heinze, « ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a National Literature and Contemporary American Poetry », European journal of American studies [Online], 3-3 | 2008, document 2, Online since 20 August 2008, connection on 30 April 2019. URL : http:// journals.openedition.org/ejas/2482 ; DOI : 10.4000/ejas.2482 This text was automatically generated on 30 April 2019. Creative Commons License http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/ejas/2482 ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’1: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a National Literature and Contemporary American Poetry Ruediger Heinze 1 On the back cover of the 1994 Norton anthology Postmodern American Poetry, a commentary claims that the collection is the first to “fully represent the movements of American avant-garde poetry.” Beginning with a poem by Charles Olson from 1953, it contains 411 poems by 103 different poets, from the Beats, the New York School and the Projectivists to a general “array of poetry written since 1975.” The selection ranges from John Cage, Charles Bukowski and Jack Kerouac to Denise Levertov, Robert Creeley and Amiri Baraka to Jerome Rothenberg, Susan Howe, Bruce Andrews and Lyn Hejinian. The last entries are from 1992, thus the volume covers a time span of just short of forty years. Apart from the fact that this anthology is not the only one to lay claim to a representative selection of “avant-garde” American poetry – conflating with a sleight of hand “avant- garde” and “postmodern” – the range and variety of the selection in effect empties the title term “postmodern” of all definitive quality. The exclusion of some poets, such as Robert Lowell or Sylvia Plath, for the inclusion of others, such as Bruce Andrews or Charles Bernstein, affords no marked difference to other similarly wide-ranging anthologies of contemporary American poetry, as long as “contemporary” is taken to cover the period after WWII. As a matter of fact, it appears that for this particular anthology the substitution of the term “postmodern” for a rather bland “contemporary” would not amount to a qualitative difference of any import, except for the fact that the same publisher also offers an anthology of modern and contemporary American poetry.2 2 Although the editors, Hoover and Chernoff, introduce the collection by arguing that they do not view postmodernism as a single style but rather as “an ongoing process of resistance to mainstream ideology” (Hoover xxvi), this merely relegates the problem to ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 1 another, similarly illusive, arena; apart from the fact that the logical consequence of such argument would be that Ginsberg, who by now has become an icon of American poetry and very much mainstream, is somehow more subversive than, for example, Robert Lowell. The collection is thus an attempt and simultaneously testimony to the failure of such an attempt to come to terms with contemporary American poetry by arguing for a literary historical genealogy arranged around the opposition of mainstream and subversiveness. This in turn is implicitly based on the idea of the aesthetic and significantly moral inadequacy of mainstream poetry, versus the authenticity and truly poetic success of subversive poetry. Needless to say, such authenticity commonly is the defining characteristic of a genuinely American poetic tradition that, according to such argument, almost inevitably goes back to Whitman and Dickinson. 3 A similar, more recent argument is made in Alan Kaufman’s introduction to the 1999 Outlaw Bible of American Poetry: Here are the […] poets who don’t get taught in American poetry 101, yet hold the literary future in their tattooed hands. […] The Academy had best make room for these descendents of Whitman’s ‘Roughs’ and Emerson’s ‘Berserkers’: Our poets can whip your poets’ asses. (Kaufman xxv) 4 Not surprisingly, the collection is not as wild as it heralds to be. Whitman, Williams, Ginsberg, Reed and other fairly “101” poets have made it into the collection alongside a number of well-known “outlaws” (Patti Smith, Tom Waits, Jackson Pollock, Kathy Acker), genre benders (Diane diPrima, Richard Brautigan, David Lerner), and native American and “ethnic” poets (Joy Harjo, Simon Ortiz, Luis Rodriguez, Victor Hernández Cruz). What is perhaps the most remarkably “outlaw” feature of the collection is the variety of texts that are gathered under the auspices of “poetry.” The “tattooed hands” that “whip asses” here only give a less academic expression to the “resistance to mainstream ideology”- sentiment found in the Norton anthology. 5 What is at stake here is not an intervention in the already overly strained debate over the use of “postmodern” and “subversion vs. mainstream” for discussing contemporary American poetry, but closer attention to the underlying rhetoric that suffuses critical discussions around the aesthetics, poetics and cultural and material conditions of American poetry. Under the precept of originality, poets and critics call for and on occasion celebrate a specifically American, coherent national poetry.3 Conversely, others bemoan the “forfeiture of grand opportunities” exactly because contemporary American poetry fails to contribute to a genuinely innovative national literature due to the “academization” and “inbred professionalism” of the creative writing programs (Altieri, Self 205). I would argue that these two lines of argument are only in apparent opposition to each other: both are based on similar notions and specifically American traditions of a poetics of influence from Ralph Waldo Emerson, T.S. Eliot to Harold Bloom. As this essay will further argue, these two arguments usually appear in the context of discussions around the idea and ideal of a national literature. No poet since Whitman has tapped into so many distinctly American voices and, at the same time, so preserved his utterance against the jangle of influences (Schultz on John Ashbery 1). 6 Looking back on the preceding decade, the poet Robert Shaw asserts that “the drink of the 1890s was absinthe; that of midcentury was gin; that of the 1990s appears to be Cranapple Juice” (Shaw 217), possibly wholesome but definitely not stimulating. He finds a “reflexive caution” among contemporary poets, a “forfeit of grand opportunities” (Shaw 219). This is, he claims, largely due to the fact that a whole generation of poets has ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 2 been raised in the incestuous system of the creative writing programs at universities, where students are streamlined in the process of being taught the mechanics of writing poetry and the imperative to avoid risks. Creativity, so the criticism, is presumptuously assumed to be teachable, while at the same time the future poets are deprived of the chance to wean themselves off the influence of their tutors in order to establish their own individual voices and, following Pound’s notorious dictum, “make it new.” According to this argument, it is hardly surprising that such a system should fail to produce great American poets.4 7 Indeed, there has been an increasing institutionalization of poetry in the MFA programs (gradschool.com lists 161 MFA graduate degree programs in the US) and writers’ conferences. A substantial number of writers actually earn their living by writing and teaching, a situation which, considering its uniqueness in comparison to other countries, should not be underemphasized since it furthers the proliferation of professional writers. This itself is reason enough for many attacks because the notion of writing as a profession in which money can be earned (even if little) does of course leave hardly any space for a notion – or self-projection – of writing romantically connoted with creativity, genius and societal marginality.5 The self-sustaining nature of this institutionalized system has naturally come under attack especially from those outside it. Critical essays on American poetry are saturated with disdainful remarks about academic (or “commodity”) poets on the grounds that writing for money compromises the quality of the work, aesthetically and politically. They are, paradoxically, criticized for their “homogenizing tendencies, [… ] for producing too much poetry too quickly and for emphasizing quantity at the expense of quality” (Beach 37) exactly in the name of a qualitative, implicitly homogeneous national poetry that needs to be salvaged and defended against these epigones.6 While few critics care to specify their notion of the ‘academic poet,’ there doubtlessly are possible detrimental effects to university programs that are maintained by recruitment from their own system. However, evidence to the contrary is tendentiously ignored: many of the poets most widely recognized as productive and innovative, such as John Ashbery, Louise Glück, Jorie Graham and Adrienne Rich, are also at least to some extent products of and/or participants in that system and have – in the words of Adrienne Rich – profited from not having to worry about how “to put bread on the table” (40). It is not so much the fact of the existence of the writing programs themselves that should be critiqued – nor necessarily their institutional affiliation or monetary interests – but the underlying double bind: yes, one can learn how to write poetry, there is something like a common base that students can potentially acquire and contribute to, a base that is also the ground for the “maturation” of a national poetry; but on the other hand there is the imperative to be original, uninfluenced. In effect, this implies that to write American poetry means to be original, an equation which echoes Pound’s imperative to “make it new.” 8 Apparently, the celebration of a coherent and unified national American poetry with a clear lineage would seem to run counter to this argument. In 1999, the Poetry Society of America invited poets to a panel discussion on what is American about American poetry. The poets’ responses can still be found on the society’s internet site (www.poetrysociety.org/whatsamer.html). While no single definition or short list of criteria can be abstracted from the responses, the topic itself indicates interest in poetry as a – specifically national – cultural database and a function of cultural archive and memory: Catherine Bowman (poetry correspondent of the NPR show All Things Considered) ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 3 finds that current poetry is based on the rhythms of American speech and on a reinforced oral tradition (Bowman xv) proliferating in open-mic readings frequently held in bars, poetry slams, and other public venues.7 This would contradict the view that poetry is the “most private and least public of traditional literary genres” (Göske 229). Edward Hirsch writes (1ff) that the great invitation of American poetry, namely Whitman’s, is still true: Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? / And why should I not speak to you? (Whitman 14) 9 According to this view American poetry can “contain contradictions and multitudes” and poets should “resist much, obey little.” Campbell McGrath states in an interview that the “poems my students write in Spanish or Jamaican patois still feel like American poems to me – it’s in the cadence, the energy, the cultural database, the concerns of immigration, acculturation, Americanization” (http://www.pitt.edu/~nidus/archives/fall2002/ mcgrath.html). The well-known problem is that the idea of a national identity achieved through literature (poetry) is a foreshortening of the multitude of different voices in American poetry (Göske 229ff) if that multitude is not taken as a defining feature of that national poetry, which in turn makes delineation extraordinarily difficult. The reference to an American poetry and a distinctly American national literature and tradition is not ontological but mostly ideological in the Althusserian sense and part of political discourses, though not always, as Benedict Anderson points out in a recent interview, to negative effect. It may indeed serve a utopian function of projecting a Good Nation in the abstract (www.culcom.uio.no/aktivitet/anderson-kapittel-eng.html). Nevertheless, in practice, “[t]he eagerness to construct ‘national’ genealogies produces questionable results” (Göske 230) because differences are inevitably subsumed under the mission of projecting the idea of a national literature with a common national lineage, although it should be granted that considering the notion of “Americanness” is not per se unproductive as long as that notion is acknowledged as ideological and complemented by a larger context of historical, political and international influences (231). However, as Göske points out, this manner of selection will always run the danger of losing sight of transnational aspects, translation, immigration, etc. A great man quotes bravely. (Emerson, Letters 183) [N]ot imitation, but creation is the aim. (Emerson, Works, Vol II 209) 10 If contemporary poets forfeit grand opportunities and fail to write “great American poetry” because the writing programs obstruct their finding of an individual voice, the assumption is that creativity and originality can only be had through a struggle against the influence not only of one’s tutor but of the entire tradition of American poetry. Yet to allow for later incorporation into an American tradition, poetry at some point needs to be recognized as distinctly American. This is what John Ashbery is lauded for in the above quote from the introduction of a collection of essays entitled The Tribe of John: being American yet being distinct, maintaining one’s discernible voice among the many voices of American poetry. The romantic myth of the independent, individualistic and potentially solipsistic genius who finds his or her authentic voice in a struggle to simultaneously repudiate, acknowledge and somehow master a great tradition is at the core of such rhetoric. As David Herd neatly points out in his study on Ashbery, the latter is ideal for such appropriation because he is regarded by a host of critics as both mainstream and avant-garde (Herd 1) and can consequently be enlisted for a variety of critical projects. Accordingly, contemporary American poetry is a continuous falling away from the image of perfection of the great, self-reliant American artists and their artistic tradition. Likewise, celebrating a distinctly American national poetry or even just holding ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 4 up the idea as an ideal evokes the notion of a long lineage of great American poets who have through consecutive influence on their respective “progeny” built and contributed towards this national literature. In the extreme, this would imply that all contemporary poetry (or at least the “good”) could basically be traced back to a few model figures, say Stevens, Williams, Whitman and Dickinson. Indeed, over the course of time a substantial number of literary critics have argued exactly that, especially in the early formative period of American studies. Carl Bode introduces his collection of essays by other critics, Great Experiment in American Literature (1961), by arguing that “[o]ne of the signs of the American character is an interest in trying something new” (Bode vii), a unique experimentalism that discards with tradition to find new ways. Bernard Duffey’s Poetry in America (1978) proclaims the Age of Bryant, Whitman and Pound respectively, while Mutlu Konuk Blasing’s American Poetry (1987), identifies four distinct lines from Emerson, Poe, Whitman and Dickinson. The most recent example of this kind of artistic genealogy is contributed by Angus Fletcher’s New Theory for American Poetry (2004), which once again takes Whitman as its starting point. 11 The problem is not that there is no influence but rather that there is too much, or in other words: there cannot not be influence, at least as long as one uses language and lives on this planet; as an inverse consequence, influence cannot be disproved. This is so basic an assumption as to seem facetious, but only its continued disregard can explain the fact that “influence” is rarely specified but frequently taken to account for too much and thus excluding too much (usually in the service of some particular interest), and –which is more than ironic – used without consideration for its history and tradition. For example, the collection The Tribe of John has gathered various essays which are supposed to testify to the influence of John Ashbery on contemporary poetry (the title suggests a tribal following) and provide examples of the kind of influences.8 According to this collection, influence can manifest itself concretely in similar topics, syntax, imagery, length of lines and formal arrangement, and more abstractly in a rejection of closure, a play with absences and the repudiation of a coherent lyrical voice. Influence here means resemblance, variation, analogy etc. on the level of one poem, an entire collection or even an entire “period” in the poet’s production. The collected essays almost without exception provide insightful and expert readings of Ashbery’s poetry, but also patently demonstrate the vagueness of the term: influence is attested in so many different ways as to empty the term of almost all meaning. In effect, if a contemporary poet lays claim to or denies having been influenced by Ashbery, there is little definitive ground for disproving or endorsing the claim, whichever it is. Even if we do not credit the poet’s statement, influence could come about by rejection and/or inversion, it could be non-intentional or disjunctive. To put it bluntly: while influence exists in multifold abundance, it would appear to be almost impossible to systematize, quantify, or qualify. Chance, however, is not a methodologically appealing category. Why, then, the continuing reference – implicit or explicit – to influence? As I argued above, both the idea of forfeiture and the idea of coherence, respectively national poetry, more or less implicitly resort to and rely on a shared assumption of influence. This assumption deserves more scrutiny. 12 Harold Bloom’s is perhaps one of the best-known and influential (pun intended) contemporary comment on influence. He argues that every strong poem is a misreading of those that precede it so that poets can “clear imaginative space for themselves” (Bloom 5). Influence here mostly manifests itself in intertextuality. Strong creative will and individuality are of utmost importance and manifest themselves in an original and ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 5 innovative (mis-)reading of the model. The strong poet is thus an anxiety-ridden adulator and iconoclast. This manner of intertextual reference and reverence is reminiscent of what T. S. Eliot demanded for strong poetry in “Tradition and the Individual Talent.” According to him, “no poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists” (Eliot 4). At the same time, the individual talent with each new creation alters what precedes it, rewriting the tradition, an idea that resonates with Borges contestation that every writer creates his or her own precursor. 13 Both Bloom and Eliot stand in the tradition of Emerson, and occasionally their texts even read like a paraphrase of the master: All minds quote. Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands. By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote. We quote not only books and proverbs, but arts, sciences, religion, customs, and laws; nay, we quote temples and houses, tables and chairs by imitation. (Emerson, Letters 178) 14 Similarly to Eliot and Bloom, Emerson elaborates on the paradox of borrowing and inventing, emulating and misreading, tradition and originality: “Only an inventor knows how to borrow, and every man is or should be an inventor” (Emerson, Letters 204). In this tradition, the poet is a strong-willed individual whose creative genius allows him or her to write with and against an overwhelming tradition, altering it and thus leaving an imprint of their originality on the genealogy of great American literature. 15 These notions have not gone uncontested: if intertextual reference, whether by allusion, paraphrase, or parody, is taken to be inevitably a form of misreading because of its re- location in a new context, as Derrida claims in his dispute with Searle, then Bloom’s argument holds true because all such references are then misreadings, but is also deprived of its argumentative strength because strong creative will and intention lose their relevance.9 Moreover, it would be inordinately difficult to delimit the intertextual play found in contemporary poetry by seeking effects of anxiety or the strain to establish a new tradition, a poetic voice free of and different from its predecessors, possibly because of the recognition that such attempts stand in the tradition of a romantic author- concept disparaged by Foucault and Barthes.10 Nevertheless, exactly this notion of influence is at the core both of claims that academy workshops cannot produce good poetry, where good poetry stands in the tradition of contra-mainstream and thus typically American poetry (a tradition of the exceptional, so to speak), and that there is a recognizable, coherent national lineage of great American poetry continued to today.11 As contested as the idea may be, without it both lines of reasoning would collapse and with it two convenient and highly politicized discourses on a national literature. 16 Consequently, it should not surprise that there is much contemporary criticism on poetry that fits these ideas, a criticism which, indeed, has its own longstanding, one might ironically say: specifically American literary tradition. As MacGowan points out, for “many nineteenth-century English writers and critics […] American literature, if such a thing existed, was merely a provincial offshoot of English literature” (McGowan 276). Against this bias, laying claim to an American original identity and independence, of nation and literature, was an obvious counter, most emphatically pronounced by Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, Alexander de Tocqueville, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt Whitman. Subsequently, at the beginning of the 20th century, with the rise of the university and its literature departments, the call for/claim of the necessity, and ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 6 simultaneous decrying of the absence of a national American literature continued a century old debate, a debate, indeed, that in its structure is common to all struggles about a national literature and thus not specifically American. The critic Van Wyck Brooks chimes in with the lament of not having strong writers (191) in his last of Three Essays on America (1934), a lament that Howard Mumford Jones takes up in a chapter entitled “A National Spirit in Letters” (48-78) in his Theory of American Literature (1948). Complementing these complaints are attempts at defining just what is originally American about American literature and poetry, continuing to today: its quintessential modernity (Auden), its portrayal of “how Americans live in America” (van Doren 2), the persistence of the theme of the dignity of man (Pearce), the continuing centrality of Emerson (Waggoner), or, more contemporary, the dialectic between a formal sensibility and social responsibility (Altieri). 17 Common to most of these literary histories are dialectic structures of opposites, in turn more often than not based on implicit ideas of forfeiture and coherence, originality and influence. As pointed out above, these lines of reasoning can be illuminating, but also restrictive. Just what kind of faultlines are left out can be seen in the thematically organized table of contents of Stephen Fredman’s Concise Companion to Twentieth-Century American Poetry (2005): feminism, queerness, immigration, mysticism, war, transnationalism, science, philosophy, etc. One way to avoid the influence of these dialectic literary histories of originality and influence is to seriously acknowledge the multiplicity of contemporary American poetry, not just to give it “a nod of recognition,” then to be “simply absorbed into the more or less same-as-usual American canon,” as Robert Lee describes a typical gesture for ethnic texts (Lee 5). 18 One defining characteristic of American poetry is its diversity, its inability to be pi geonholed or represented by one or two major figures and models. There is no binding consensus on what is essential in our poetry right now. This superabundant complexity may seem maddening to those whose business it is to impose rational categorization upon disorder – namely critics and theorists – but to poets it ought to feel like an en tirely welcome and delightful state of affairs. (http:// www.poetrysociety.org/mcgrath.html) 19 In an essay on American poetry of the 1990s, Willard Spiegelman starts with a literary parlor game, making two separate lists of poets and asking what sets them apart (Spiegelman 206). There appears to be no distinguishing criterion, but there is: one group won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in the last decade, the other did not. The list of Pulitzer poets – the Pulitzer Prize is surely one powerful mechanism of marketing and canonization – indicates that even such a fairly popular award honors an increasingly diverse and multicultural American poetry. Even more radically experimental, on-the- fringe, marginal and/or ethnic poets are being canonized and institutionalized. One need not look far to find them published in the respective anthologies by, for example, Douglas Messerli, Charles Bernstein or Ron Silliman. 20 These anthologies as well as smaller collections with different purposes (e.g. by Finch and Varnes, Bowman and Lehman) give witness to apparently important developments in American poetry and as a corollary also to the foremost ideological nature of a national poetry, for several reasons. First, the extreme division between new-formalists and l=a=n=g=u=a=g=e poets, New York School and Projectivists and countless other movements has evidently long become obsolete and increasingly useless for discussing contemporary poetry. Granted, the affiliation of a poet with a particular school and/or ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 7 http://www.poetrysociety.org/mcgrath.html http://www.poetrysociety.org/mcgrath.html tradition might still be helpful in order to locate him or her within certain traditions (e.g. Ted Kooser or Charles Wright), but despite all polemical contention to the contrary (for example by Lyn Hejinian, Bruce Andrews or Robert Bly), these affiliations are dissolving. As poet David Kellogg points out, “there is no one site for resistance or authenticity” (qtd. in Finch and Varnes 2). One of the reasons for the dissolving affiliations is a shifted attitude towards formal experiment. The output of literature journals and book publishers shows that the poetry published in the US is more open to a variety of forms – formal verse, prose poems – than it used to be twenty years ago; there is a noticeable shift in attitude towards formal matrices as well as to a less polemically fraught attitude towards formal experiment per se, though so-called free verse is admittedly still the preferred “form.” For the most part of the last century formal matrices were eyed suspiciously because “many poets and critics, both traditional and experimental, have suggested that to write in certain forms is incompatible with postmodern insights about the contingency and fragmentariness of the self” (Finch and Varnes 2).12 For some time now, however, there has been a prolific and occasionally playful resurgence of formal matrices, e.g. such arcane forms as the sestina or the canzone, in the poetry of a number of older and younger contemporary poets. 21 Second, what currently goes under the label contemporary “American” poetry has been making use of the multifarious ethnic voices and traditions in “American” literature, often by incorporating passages in languages other than English, and of a wealth of transnational imports, as Daniel Göske demonstrates for Robert Bly, Anthony Hecht and Amy Clampitt; so much so that it often – consistent with the argument of this essay – becomes difficult to say just what nationality a text may be if the author’s citizenship ceases to be the sole defining feature. For the ideal of a national poetry, this raises several problems. Many ethnic poets make use (in a number of ways) of their specific cultural background and literary traditions. They are often either labeled as American poets reflecting the intrinsically varied tradition of American literature, or as poets with a hyphenated affiliation whose work derives its merit precisely from not being part of a mainstream American poetic tradition and canon. Both views are as foreshortened as they are ideologically invested, and combined they sit uneasy with the ideal of a national poetry. Ironically but consistently, the incipient comparative trans-ethnic, trans-national criticism that would circumvent these two perspectives sits just as uneasy with that ideal. In addition, the label “ethnic” only goes so far in dealing with poetry, as every poet, to differing degrees, makes use of his or her culturally specific background – in fact cannot help but do so –, which may or may not coincide with the elusive idea of a national identity. 22 An example: Jorie Graham, surely one of the most prominent canonical, mainstream “non-ethnic” poets, is regularly placed at least partially under the influence of John Ashbery and thus as belonging to the tribe of John. On the back cover of The End of Beauty an excerpt from Helen Vendler’s review in The New Yorker announces Graham’s status by invoking Blake, Whitman, Stevens, Eliot and Ashbery, names which sooner or later show up in most of her reception. It would of course be possible to enlist Graham for the project of a coherent national American literature; she makes abundant intertextual references to Whitman, Emerson, etc., has indisputable status as an influential contemporary poet with a purportedly distinct voice and an alleged lineage to key figures in American literature. It would be just as possible to question the enthusiasm with which she is commonly greeted and label her as a typical product of an “academic poetry” ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 8 aesthetics geared mostly to an exclusive and intellectual audience.13 While quotations from Whitman and Emerson show her affiliations to American literature, the reference to Emerson, being the first American scholar to extensively adopt Plato into his thoughts, already alludes to further references that reach far beyond a purely American literary and cultural canon, even if most of them remain within the realms of western “high” culture (e.g. continental philosophy and literature, physics, but also less canonical texts such as Audubon’s Journals or Etiquette manuals).14 Also, her manner of citation formally raises the question of what counts as a poem and what not, apart from the fact that the citations are not to be fully trusted (as she often alters sequence and layout of the original). In short: there are far too many and diverse references and influences and far too much formal complexity for Graham’s poetry to be easily categorized. Her problematization of poetic form per se, her formal variations, her predominantly transnational intertextual references, all of these demand a reading beyond the two critical narratives of forfeiture of or coherence with the tradition of American poetry. 23 Jorie Graham is only one case in point. As overcome as the ideal of a national American poetry and, by extension, literature may appear, it has played (and still does play) an important political and literary historical role, even, as Anderson points out, a utopian one. It would appear that defining a national literature is more a question of identifying specific thematic preoccupations and thus a matter of content rather than formal variation. This, however, is misleading. American poetry in particular has been identified with its schools, manifestos and diverse poetics of how a poem should be. Rootedness in place and time is necessarily of importance. But the majority of poets have been characterized by their use of form, style and formal aesthetics rather than thematic focus. Scrutinizing the extant formal variety of contemporary poetry thus constitutes a viable way of widening the impression of what is “going on” in American poetry. The predominance of the two narratives of forfeiture and coherence and their foundation on a notion of influence must hence be seen as a political (more so than aesthetic) attempt to exclude post- and trans-national trends in poetry and criticism, as well as anything else that does not fit the picture, from the projection of a national American poetry. If both of these narratives inherently testify to the continuing import of influence, in whatever form, and thus implicitly to the valid and legitimate need for negotiating issues of cultural identity and memory, then the notion of influence and the concomitant negotiation of cultural identity should be revised so as to do justice to the fact that 1) influence is never just national and individual but transnational, multifold and complex, 2) there is no necessarily logical and systematic connection between the existence of writing programs and the quality of contemporary (American) poetry, 3) there is an abundant variety of poetry and poetic forms in contemporary (American) literature, and 4) the idea and ideal of a national literature is, for what it is worth, surprisingly resilient and, perhaps, more an ideological construction than many of us may still want to admit. Works Cited Altieri, Charles. The Art of Twentieth-Century American Poetry. New York: Blackwell, 2006. – – –. Self and Sensibility in Contemporary American Poetry. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1984. Anderson, Benedict. “Interview with Benedict Anderson: ‘I like nationalism’s utopian elements.’” CULCOM: Cultural Complexity in the New Norway. >http:// www.culcom.uio.no/aktivitet/anderson-kapittel-eng.html> (13 November 2006). ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 9 Andrews, Bruce. “The Poetics of L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E.” Textual Operations Talk Series. White Box, New York City. Sept. 25, 2001. Andrews, Bruce, and Charles Bernstein, eds. The L=A=N=G=U=A=G=E Book. Carbondale and Edwardsville: Southern Illinois UP, 1984. Beach, Christopher. Poetic Culture. Evanston: North Western UP, 1999. Blasing, Mutlu Konuk. American Poetry. New Haven: Yale UP, 1987. Bloom, Harold. The Anxiety of Influence. 2nd ed. Oxford and New York: Oxford UP, 1997. Bode, Carl, ed. The Great Experiment in American Literature. London: Heinemann, 1961. Bowman, Catherine, ed. Word Of Mouth. New York: Vintage, 2003. Brooks, Van Wyck. Three Essays on America. New York: Dutton, 1934. Casanova, Pascale. The World Republic of Letters. Transl. M.B. DeBevoise. Cambrigde: Harvard UP, 2005. Derrida, Jacques. Limited Inc. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1988. Duffey, Bernard. Poetry in America, Durham: Duke UP, 1978. Eliot, T. S. Selected Essays. London: Faber and Faber, 1999. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Letters and Social Aims. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1904. – – –. The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Vol. II. Cambridge, Mass. and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard UP, 1979. – – –. The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Vol. III. Cambridge, Mass. and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard UP, 1983. English, James. The Economy of Prestige: Prizes, Awards, and the Circulation of Cultural Value. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 2005. Finch, Annie, and Varnes, Kathrine, eds. An Exaltation of Forms. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2002. Fletcher, Angus. A New Theory for American Poetry. Cambridge, Mass. and London: Harvard UP, 2004. Fredman, Stephen. A Concise Companion to Twentieth-Century American Poetry. New York: Blackwell, 2005. Gery, John. “Ashbery’s Menagerie and the Anxiety of Affluence.” The Tribe of John: Ashbery and Contemporary Poetry. Ed. Susan Schultz. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1995. 126-145. Göske, Daniel. “Hanoi, Buchenwald, Nueva York: (Trans)National Identities in Contemporary American Poetry.” Negotiations of America’s National Identity. Vol. II. Ed. Roland Hagenbüchle and Josef Raab. Tübingen: Stauffenburg Verlag, 2000. 229-247. Gradschools.com. “English Language and Literature Graduate School Programs.” November 2004: http://gradschool.about.com/gi/dynamic/offsite.htm?site=http%3A%2F %2Fwww.gradschools.com%2Flistings%2Fmenus%2Feng_lang_menu.html. Graham, Jorie. Materialism. Hopewell: The Ecco Press, 1993. – – –. The Dream of the Unified Field: Selected Poems 1974-1994. Hopewell: The Ecco Press, 1995. – – –. The End of Beauty. Hopewell: The Ecco Press, 1998. Herd, David. John Ashbery and American Poetry. Manchester, Manchester UP, 2000. Hirsch, Edward. How To Read A Poem. San Diego: Harcourt, 1999. Hoover, Paul, ed. Postmodern American Poetry: A Norton Anthology. New York & London: W. W. Norton & Company, 1994. Jones, Howard Mumford. The Theory of American Literature. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1948. ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 10 Kaufman, Alan, ed. The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. New York: Thunder’s Mouth Press, 1999. Lee, Arthur Robert. Multicultural American Literature. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2003. Lehman, David, ed. Ecstatic Occasions, Expedient Forms. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1996. – – –. Great American Prose Poems: From Poe to the Present. New York: Scribner, 2003. MacGowan, Christopher. Twentieth-Century American Poetry. New York: Blackwell, 2004. McGrath, Campbell. “What’s American About American Poetry?” Poetry Society of America. 20 November 2004 <http://www.poetrysociety.org/mcgrath.html>. Menand, Louis. “All That Glitters.” The New Yorker Dec.-Jan. 2005/06. 20 March 2006 <http://www.newyorker.com/critics/content/articles/051226crbo_books>. Messerli, Douglas. From the Other Side of the Century: A New American Poetry, 1960-1990 . Los Angeles: Sun and Moon Press, 1994. Pearce, Roy Harvey. The Continuity of American Poetry. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1961. Perloff, Marjorie. “Normalizing John Ashbery.” 25 October 2005 <http:// wings.buffalo.edu/epc/authors/perloff/ashbery.html>. Poetry Society of America. 20 March 2006 <http://www.poetrysociety.org/mcgrath.html>. Ramazani, Jahan, et al., eds. The Norton Anthology of Modern and Contemporary Poetry. 2 vols. 3rd ed. New York & London: W. W. Norton & Company, 2003. Rothenberg, Jerome, and Pierre Joris, eds. Poems for the Millennium. 2 vols. Berkeley etc.: University of California Press, 1995. Schultz, Susan M., ed. The Tribe of John: Ashbery and Contemporary Poetry. Tuscaloosa etc.: University of Alabama Press, 1995. Shaw, Robert. “Tragic Generations.” Poetry January (2000): 210-19. Silliman, Ron, ed. In the American Tree. Orono, Maine: National Poetry Foundation, 1986. Spiegelman, Willard. “The Nineties Revisited.” Contemporary Literature 42:2 (2001): 206-237. Van Doren, Carl. What is American Literature? New York: W. Morrow & Co., 1935. Vendler, Helen. The Breaking of Style: Hopkins, Heaney, Graham. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1995. Waggoner, Hyatt H. American Poets: From the Puritans to the Present. Boston: Mifflin, 1968. Whitman, Walt. Leaves of Grass. Ed. Harold W. Blodgett and Sculley Bradley. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1965. poetry; American; contemporary; originality; influence Ruediger Heinze, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität, Freiburg, Germany NOTES 1. The title is taken from a poem and a collection of poetry by Jorie Graham of the same name. ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 11 2. The making of anthologies as a process of canonization rightly begs questions of quantitative and qualitative representation, of ideology, censorship and processes of exclusion. While these aspects are given ample attention in current discussions on canonization and anthologizing, irrational and random aspects of selection, admittedly difficult to analyze, are mostly ignored. For example, mood and topical personal disposition of the editors, questions of taste regarding layout and cover letter or chance aspects of lost manuscripts etc. always influence selection to a degree which is difficult to assess, let alone quantify. 3. All of these are problematic and freighted terms, just as the “innovative” and “genuine” to follow. 4. It would of course be unreasonable to suggest that this is the main and only tenet of Shaw’s argument. In fact, these comments mark only the conclusion of his essay on the fin de siècle poetry of the not-quite-so “tragic generation” of poets following the confessional poets of the fifties and sixties. As a conclusive remark, however, the comments are anything but marginal. 5. For a partial critique of this romantic myth of the writer vs. the reality of the marketplace see The Economy of Prestige by James English (2005) and The World Republic of Letters by Pascale Casanova (2005), or Louis Menand’s review of them in the Dec. 26, 05/Jan. 2, 06 issue of The New Yorker. 6. Christopher Beach in his book Poetic Culture is one of the few to comment extensively and not derogatorily on the poetry academy system. 7. Here, too, the internet plays an important role. Web radio and audio files of poems facilitate the distribution of poetry as read. 8. A more subtle reading within that rhetoric is John Gery’s essay in the same volume. Incidentally, Ashbery’s poetry is also the center of a “breakthrough narrative” debate that structurally resembles the opposition between coherence and forfeiture. For a summary of the key points, see Marjorie Perloff’s essay “Normalizing Ashbery.” 9. More precisely, Derrida claims that iterability governs language, although logically the exact context (time and location) of the speech act cannot be repeated, nor its illocutionary aspect. Quotation is thus not a proof – contrary to what Derrida claims and in accordance with Searle – of language’s iterability but rather of its differences, while paradoxically iterability implies difference. Nevertheless, Searle reciprocally conflates text and speech act intention. Important for this discussion is the notion that while a text may be iterable through citation, its intention and original illocutionary context are not, so that citation or “re-reading” necessarily means “misreading.” It should be kept in mind that the meaning of “misreading” in the context of this debate is restricted to language philosophy and does not connote voluntary distortion. 10. Though not always; see, for example, Foucault's book-length study of Roussel, or any number of essays by Barthes, e.g. on Queneau and Sollers. 11. According to the criticism of commodity poetry, the distinction between “good/ original” poetry and “mass-produced workshop” poetry is, ironically, often tantamount to the distinction between high and pop culture, although classroom/workshop poetry of course almost always has as its aim “high art” as opposed to “popular” poetry, for example Hallmark Card verse, rock lyrics or rap rhymes. 12. In their anthology An Exaltation of Forms Finch and Varnes have collected a substantial number of poetic forms used or invented by contemporary American poets, among them Anthony Hecht, Maxine Kumin, Marilyn Hacker, Pat Mora and Lewis Turco. ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 12 13. This attack is also revealing because it is frequently used without further reflection as a corollary to the “Hallmark” attack mentioned earlier: both taken together constitutes a logical fallacy. 14. These remarks refer to her volume Materialism and her selected poetry The Dream of the Unified Field, which won the 1996 Pulitzer Prize. ABSTRACTS This paper collates two critical ideas about American poetry: originality and influence. Under the precept of the former, poets and critics call for – and on occasion celebrate – an originally American, more or less coherent national poetry, while the latter hosts complaints about the “forfeiture of grand opportunities” (Shaw) exactly because contemporary American poetry fails to contribute to a genuinely innovative national literature. This failure is argued to be the result of an inability of poets to free themselves from incapacitating literary influences due to the “academization” and “inbred professionalism” (Altieri) of the creative writing programs. Both ideas, this essay will argue, although apparently oppositional, are based on the same – inherently inconsistent – notion of influence and predominantly appear in the context of discussions around the project/idea of a national poetry/literature. The paper will examine the critical history of these two ideas and their connection to the conception of an American national poetry. INDEX Keywords: Poetry, American, contemporary, originality, influence AUTHOR RUEDIGER HEINZE Ruediger Heinze, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität, Freiburg, Germany ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a Natio... European journal of American studies, Vol 3, No 3 | 2008 13 ‘The Dream of the Unified Field’1: Originality, Influence, the Idea of a National Literature and Contemporary American Poetry 
work_6g5arca3t5cvheye2i4gs4ovey	----	Effect of a comprehensive obstetric patient safety program on compensation payments and sentinel events Reviews www.AJOG.org P A T I E N T S A F E T Y S E R I E S Effect of a comprehensive obstetric patient safety program on compensation payments and sentinel events Amos Grunebaum, MD; Frank Chervenak, MD; Daniel Skupski, MD s M c m Improving patient safety has becomean important goal for hospitals, phy- sicians, patients, and insurers.1 Imple- menting patient safety measures and promoting an organized culture of safety, including the use of highly spe- cialized protocols, has been shown to de- crease adverse outcomes;2-5 however, it is less clear whether decreasing adverse outcomes also reduces compensation payments and sentinel events. Our objective is to describe compre- hensive changes to our obstetric patient safety program and to report their im- pact on actual spent compensation pay- ments (sum of indemnity and expenses paid) and sentinel events. Materials and Methods New York Presbyterian Hospital-Weill Cornell Medical Center is a tertiary aca- demic referral center with a level 3 neo- natal intensive care unit and serves as a New York State regional perinatal cen- ter. The labor and delivery unit performs about 5200 deliveries per year of which voluntary attending physicians manage approximately 25%, and 75% are man- aged by full-time faculty. The New York Weill Cornell Investi- gation Research Board approved this re- port as exempt research. Patient safety program In 2002, we began to implement in a step-wise fashion a comprehensive and From the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology, New York Weill Cornell Medical Center, New York, NY. Received Aug. 9, 2010; revised Nov. 1, 2010; accepted Nov. 2, 2010. Reprints not available from the authors. 0002-9378/$36.00 © 2011 Mosby, Inc. All rights reserved. doi: 10.1016/j.ajog.2010.11.009 ongoing patient safety program. The date of implementation is included for each step. Consultant Review (2002) In 2002, as part of an obstetric initiative by our insurance carrier (MCIC Ver- mont, Inc, Burlington, VT), 2 indepen- dent consultants reviewed our depart- ment and assessed our institution’s obstetric service. This review resulted in specific recommendations and provided a general outline for making changes and improvements in patient safety. Building on these findings, we implemented a comprehensive obstetric patient safety program. Labor and delivery team training (2003) Poor communication is among the most cited reasons for malpractice suits,6 whereas improved nurse-physician com- munication can make labor and delivery afer.7 Consequently, the Institute of Medicine recommended interdiscipli- nary team training programs for provid- ers to incorporate proven methods of Our objective was to describe a compreh its effect on reducing compensation pa 2003 to 2009, we implemented a compr our institution with multiple integrated c pensation payments and sentinel events ments and sentinel events retrospectively through 2009. Average yearly compensat between 2003-2006 to $2,550,136 betw from 5 in 2000 to none in 2008 and 2 patient safety program decreased comp sulting in immediate and significant savin Key words: compensation payments, med patient safety, sentinel events team training as a way to improve efforts FEBRUARY 2011 Am and to empower every team member to speak up and intervene if an unsafe situ- ation may be occurring.8 Crew Resource anagement (CRM) can potentially de- rease medical malpractice litigation, ostly by improving communication,9 but studies have been less clear about its effect on adverse outcomes.10 In 2003, several of our labor and de- livery staff members including nurses, obstetricians, and anesthesiologists at- tended a “train the trainer” team-train- ing course. Subsequently, all staff work- ing on labor and delivery including clerical staff, nurses, attending obstetri- cians, neonatologists, anesthesiologists, and residents successfully attended a 4-hour team training session and team principles were introduced on labor and delivery. Since then, all new staff has been required to attend labor and deliv- ery team training sessions. The CRM program is performed regularly every 2-3 months. New staff, including nurses, attending, residents, and cleri- cal staff, are scheduled to undertake CRM at the next available time. At- tending physicians are instructed that ive obstetric patient safety program and nts and sentinel adverse events. From nsive obstetric patient safety program at ponents. To evaluate its effect on com- e gathered data on compensation pay- m 2003, when the program was initiated, payments decreased from $27,591,610 2007-2009, sentinel events decreased . Instituting a comprehensive obstetric ation payments and sentinel events re- . liability, obstetric adverse outcomes, ens yme ehe om , w fro ion een 009 ens gs ical credentialing/privileges will not be erican Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology 97 h l t t a t r s p T u ( t m t i C l C c p p n t b c o n p c t T i n t i i b d e f s a D a A w s l b v t c t c g a fl L o f M m d m u h Reviews Patient Safety Series www.AJOG.org granted or renewed if CRM is not com- pleted and nursing staff and residents are informed that they must take the CRM program within a year after em- ployment begins. Electronic medical record charting (2003) Good medical record charting can help defend professional liability cases and may persuade potential plaintiffs to forego filing a suit11 and electronic ealth records on labor and delivery are ess likely to miss key clinical informa- ion.12 To facilitate communication and o improve patient safety, we were mong the first departments in our insti- FIGURE 1 Chain of communication Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compensa ution to require electronic medical w 98 American Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology F ecord charting with Eclipsys XA (Eclip- ys Corporation, Boca Raton, FL) for all atients on labor and delivery. OB racevue (Phillips, Andover, MA) is sed for electronic fetal monitoring EFM). All documentation occurs in hese electronic formats. Paper docu- entation is not allowed, except when he electronic format is temporarily ncapacitated. hain of communication for abor and delivery (2003) ommunication on labor and delivery is rucial to ensure patient safety and to rovide the best care for patients and revent errors,13 but there are times payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. hen physician’s orders and actions EBRUARY 2011 eed to be questioned. We believed that he most effective way for staff on the la- or and delivery unit to voice their con- erns is to establish and promote chain- f-communication policies. In 2004, a ew chief of labor and delivery was ap- ointed and a clear chain of communi- ation was established and supported by he departmental chairman (Figure 1). he chain of communication includes nvolvement of all staff beginning at the urse and junior resident level, then up o the chief resident, the inhouse attend- ng, the maternal-fetal medicine special- st on call, and finally the director of la- or and delivery and the chairman of the epartment. All staff are being empow- red to use the chain of communication requently and around the clock to en- ure a quick resolution to unresolved nd urgent issues. edicated gynecology ttending on call (2004) gynecology attending on call schedule as established separately from the ob- tetric coverage. Before this change, the abor and delivery attending covered oth the obstetric and gynecology ser- ices and there had been occasions when here were concurrent emergency gyne- ologic and obstetric cases. This situa- ion prevented the attending from suffi- iently covering both services. The added ynecology coverage allowed the labor nd delivery attending to cover the labor oor exclusively. imitation of misoprostol to induction f labor or cervical ripening or a nonviable fetus (2004) isoprostol is not US Federal Drug Ad- inistration (FDA) approved for use uring labor. There is evidence that isoprostol is not effective,14 and its se is associated with an increase in yperstimulation/tachysystole.15 Misoprostol has never been used at the medical center for a live fetus. After the warning from the Searle company dis- couraging its use in the year 2000, there was no incentive to begin using this med- ication at our institution, and our con- cern about potential adverse outcomes tion led us to conclude that misoprostol use s v p s www.AJOG.org Patient Safety Series Reviews should be limited to induction of labor and cervical ripening only in the nonvi- able fetus. Standardized oxytocin labor induction and stimulation protocol (2005) A standardized protocol enables the staff to become facile in handling the myriad of problems that occur on any busy unit, quickly and efficiently.16 In 2005, we im- plemented a standardized low-dose oxy- tocin labor induction and stimulation policy (Table 1) and a standardized or- der template was designed in the hospi- tal’s electronic ordering system (Eclip- sys, Atlanta, GA). No other method of using intrapartum oxytocin was permit- TABLE 1 Standardized protocol for induction Item Protocol a. Only a premixed oxytocin solu ................................................................................................................... b. The oxytocin infusion is limited ................................................................................................................... c. A buretrol infusion is used wit ................................................................................................................... d. The infusion is piggybacked in ................................................................................................................... e. A written attending order (elec ................................................................................................................... f. Before the start of oxytocin an cervical status, estimated feta ................................................................................................................... g. An attending must be available ................................................................................................................... h. Before initiation of oxytocin a ................................................................................................................... i. The oxytocin concentration is ................................................................................................................... j. The oxytocin infusion begins a ................................................................................................................... k. The infusion is increased by 1 ................................................................................................................... l. An attending must evaluate, d ................................................................................................................... m. The maximum oxytocin dosag ................................................................................................................... n. If the oxytocin infusion was di it was stopped for greater than ................................................................................................................... o. Only a nurse can titrate oxytoc this. ................................................................................................................... p. The oxytocin infusion must be than 2 minutes in frequency a elevated uterine resting tone; ................................................................................................................... q. The attending physician must or down titration of oxytocin. ................................................................................................................... r. Terbutaline may be given if sto hyperstimulation ................................................................................................................... s. Oxytocin should be discontinu ................................................................................................................... Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compe ted. Highlights of this protocol included a premixed oxytocin solution, a required written attending order and note before starting the oxytocin infusion, a stan- dardized starting dosage and increases, and a “smart pump” (a pump that comes with an error reduction system and drug library capabilities). The protocol paid special attention to tachysystole and fetal heart rate concerns. If there was tachysy- tole, or there were concerns about the fetal heart rate, the oxytocin infusion had to be decreased or stopped. Premixed and safety color-coded labeled magnesium sulfate and oxytocin solutions (2005) Magnesium sulfate is among the most r augmentation with oxytocin is used ......................................................................................................................... intravenous route via an infusion pump ......................................................................................................................... “smart pump” (a pump that comes with error re ......................................................................................................................... he port most proximal to patient ......................................................................................................................... ic template) is required before the start of oxyto ......................................................................................................................... ending must document the plan of care includin ight, pelvic adequacy, and fetal heart rate asse ......................................................................................................................... the same floor as labor and delivery floor at all ......................................................................................................................... suring fetal heart rate must be present for a mi ......................................................................................................................... emixed solution of 30 U per 500 mL. No individ ......................................................................................................................... mU per minute. ......................................................................................................................... per minute no more frequently than every 15 m ......................................................................................................................... ment, and determine the plan of care if the oxyt ......................................................................................................................... nnot exceed 40 mU per minute ......................................................................................................................... tinued for 20 minutes or less, it may be restart minutes then it should be restarted at 1 mU pe ......................................................................................................................... The nurse can stop or titrate the oxytocin infusio ......................................................................................................................... pped or titrated for any of the following: uterine r lasting longer than 90 seconds and/or more t reassuring fetal heart rate tracing; presumed ute ......................................................................................................................... otified of any hyperstimulation/tachystole, abno ......................................................................................................................... ing oxytocin does not lead to a normalization of ......................................................................................................................... s soon as a cesarean delivery is planned ......................................................................................................................... ion payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. dangerous solutions used on labor and FEBRUARY 2011 Am delivery.17 More recently, in addition to eizure prophylaxis and tocolysis, pre- ention of cerebral palsy was added as a otential indication for giving magne- ium sulfate on labor and delivery.18,19 To improve the safe use of magnesium sulfate, we implemented several changes, including the use of premixed magne- sium sulfate and oxytocin solutions, color coded magnesium sulfate and oxyto- cin containers and intravenous lines, as well as using both with “smart pumps.” Electronic medical record templates for shoulder dystocia and operative deliveries (2005) Both shoulder dystocia and operative de- .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. tion system and drug library capabilities) .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. dication, fetal presentation and station, ent. .................................................................................................................. es while the patient is on oxytocin .................................................................................................................. um of 20 minutes .................................................................................................................. mixing of solutions is permitted onsite. .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. tes .................................................................................................................. dosage reaches 20 mU per minute .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. t a lower rate than before discontinuation. If inute .................................................................................................................. indicated. The doctor must be notified of .................................................................................................................. erstimulation/tachysystole (contractions less 5 contractions in any 10 minute period); e rupture; water intoxication .................................................................................................................. l fetal heart rate changes and/or stoppage .................................................................................................................. l heart rate changes in the presence of .................................................................................................................. .................................................................................................................. o tion ......... ......... to ......... ......... h a duc ......... ......... to t ......... ......... tron cin ......... ......... att g in l we ssm ......... ......... on tim ......... ......... reas nim ......... ......... a pr ual ......... ......... t 1 ......... ......... mU inu ......... ......... ocu ocin ......... ......... e ca ......... ......... scon ed a 20 r m ......... ......... in. n if ......... ......... sto hyp nd/o han non rin ......... ......... be n rma ......... ......... pp feta ......... ......... ed a ......... ......... nsat liveries are associated with an increase in erican Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology 99 d n o m s r c u o E o c O o i c i i w t t t e q O A i f T t s m a E w F b m s t a d v l i a o w p a t c a u nsat Reviews Patient Safety Series www.AJOG.org neonatal and maternal injury and conse- quently litigation.20 Making the correct iagnosis, performing the correct ma- euvers, time management, prevention f traction, and documenting manage- ent and maneuvers are therefore es- ential.21 We designed and implemented equired templates and electronic medi- al charting tools for several clinical sit- ations, including shoulder dystocia and perative delivery (Table 2). arly identification of potential bstetric professional liability ases (2005) ur medicolegal department met with ur department and decided that early dentification of adverse obstetric out- TABLE 2 Shoulder dystocia documentation t Shoulder dystocia note Head delivery (Spont/Forc/Vac): ................................................................................................................... Time head delivered (min/sec): ................................................................................................................... Time body delivered (min/sec): ................................................................................................................... Second stage (min): ................................................................................................................... Anterior shoulder (right/left): ................................................................................................................... Initial traction: gentle attempt at traction, assi ................................................................................................................... Oxytocin stopped: yes or no ................................................................................................................... Terbutaline given: yes or no ................................................................................................................... Any/all maneuvers that apply and the order in ................................................................................................................... McRoberts maneuver and by whom: ................................................................................................................... Suprapubic pressure and by whom: ................................................................................................................... Episiotomy (and by whom): ................................................................................................................... Rubin’s maneuver and by whom: ................................................................................................................... Woods maneuver and by whom: ................................................................................................................... Gaskin maneuver (all fours): ................................................................................................................... Posterior arm release and by whom: ................................................................................................................... Other (maneuvers list): ................................................................................................................... No Fundal pressure after the head delivered ................................................................................................................... The arm under the symphysis at the point the ................................................................................................................... Primary Care Provider(s) present: ................................................................................................................... Registered Nurse(s) present: ................................................................................................................... Pediatrician(s) present: ................................................................................................................... Others present: ................................................................................................................... Full disclosure given to patient: Yes/No ................................................................................................................... Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compe omes and potential professional liabil- a 100 American Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology ty cases and expedited reviews would be mplemented. If a clear medical error as identified, we planned to approach he patient with the goal of an early set- lement. Since the implementation of his program, 1 adverse outcome (an arly neonatal death) was identified and uickly settled. bstetric patient safety nurse (2005) s part of our patient safety efforts, our nsurance carrier (MCIC Vermont, Inc) unded an obstetric patient safety nurse. he patient safety nurse is employed full- ime by the hospital and is involved in taff education, team training, imple- entation of protocol changes on labor nd delivery, obstetric emergency drills, plate ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... by maternal expulsive forces ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ich they were utilized. ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... d was delivered was: right OR left ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... ................................................................................................................... .................................................................................................................. ion payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. nd collection of data. FEBRUARY 2011 lectronic online communication hiteboard (2006) or decades, the labor whiteboard has een the center of communications on any labor and delivery units. It usually erves as a hub for situational awareness o make all staff aware of events on labor nd delivery. However, the traditional ry erasable whiteboard has many disad- antages, including limited visibility, imited access, small size, no interactiv- ty, and inflexibility. We programmed nd implemented our own proprietary nline electronic whiteboard (http:// ww.LDTrack.com), a secure password- rotected and IP address-controlled site vailable through any internet browser hat has many interactive features, in- luding color-coded warning labels and utomatic mathematically supported pdates.22 Recruitment of physician’s assistants for labor and delivery (2006) Newly instituted resident work hours limit the extent of resident involvement and night calls in the hospital including the labor and delivery unit. Three new obstetric physician assistants were re- cruited to amplify the staff and help with the workload. The physicians’ assistants are assigned to labor and delivery triage and as assistants for cesarean deliveries and provide continuity and stability on the labor and delivery floor. Electronic fetal monitor interpretation certification (2006) Effective communication is essential when discussing and interpreting fetal heart rate and uterine activity and it re- quires a mutual understanding of termi- nology. We required that all staff in- volved in interpreting electronic fetal monitoring, including attendings, resi- dents, physician assistants, and nurses, become certified in electronic fetal monitoring by National Certification Corporation (NCC), a not-for-profit or- ganization that provides a national cre- dentialing program for nurses, physi- cians, and other licensed health care professionals. In addition, all staff are required to use the National Institute em ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... sted ......... ......... ......... wh ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... hea ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... of Child and Human Development http://www.LDTrack.com http://www.LDTrack.com t p a t c d O T t r h c p p w c f r o O W m d t i s P W t u c t v C N Y I a W p p t i r p r C a W o 2 s fi s e f p w a l c s f $ t s e i a s q e C s fi p r o j A m j p www.AJOG.org Patient Safety Series Reviews (NICHD) standardized language for fe- tal heart rate interpretation23 and tem- plates for documenting fetal heart rates based on the NICHD language were added in the electronic charting tools. Electronic antepartum medical records (2006) We implemented uniform antepartum medical record charting (Epic Systems Corporation) for all full-time faculty and staff patients (about 75% of all deliver- ies). The availability of electronic ante- partum charts on a 24-hour/7 day a week basis improves availability of data, such as laboratory results and helps in im- proving communication among the staff. Routine thromboembolism prophylaxis for all cesarean deliveries (2006) Pulmonary thromboembolism is among the leading causes of maternal deaths in the United States, and most events of ve- nous thromboembolism can be reduced with either medical or mechanical throm- boprophylaxis,24,25 and it has been sug- gested that a systematic reduction in ma- ternal death rate in the United States can be expected if all women undergoing ce- sarean delivery receive thromboembo- lism prophylaxis.5 Therefore, in addition o using pharmacologic anticoagulation rophylaxis for high-risk patients, we lso implemented the routine use of in- ermittent lower extremity pneumatic ompression devices for all cesarean eliveries. bstetric emergency drills (2006) he Joint Commission recommends hat obstetric departments consider pe- iodically conducting clinical drills to elp staff prepare for shoulder dystocia, onduct debriefings to evaluate team erformance, and identify areas for im- rovement.13 Such drills appear to im- prove recognition and management of shoulder dystocia and can improve phy- sician’s communication skills as well as reduce traction forces.26,27 Drills were instituted over time for maternal cardiac arrest, shoulder dystocia, emergency ce- sarean section, and maternal hemor- p rhage. Obstetricians, anesthesiologists, neonatologists, nurses, residents, fellows, and physician assistants participate in these drills. The shoulder dystocia and ma- ternal hemorrhage drills are performed with a maternal and fetal manikin and in small groups of 6-8 individuals so each can obtain practice in performing the neces- sary fetal manipulations. The main objectives of the shoulder dystocia drill are to diagnose shoulder dystocia, prevent injury by performing the correct maneuvers, time manage- ment, prevention of traction, and teach proper documentation. Recruitment of a laborist (2007) Inhouse oncall attending coverage is provided on a 24-hour basis by one of the full-time faculty attendings that have obstetric privileges. To address lifestyle and patient safety concerns, Weinstein recommended a practice of having hos- pitalists and laborists,28 Clark recom- mended a reassessment of group obstet- ric practice to improve patient safety,29 and a survey showed that laborists can have a high career satisfaction.30 In 2006, e hired a laborist to provide inhouse overage for the labor and delivery floor or nights and weekends and therefore educe inhouse oncall responsibilities of ther physicians. xytocin initiation checklist (2009) e implemented a checklist with the ost important elements of the stan- ardized oxytocin policy. Completion of he checklist is required by nurses before nitiation of oxytocin for induction or timulation of labor. ostpartum hemorrhage kit (2009) e made available a single hemorrhage kit hat includes the 4 most important drugs sed for postpartum hemorrhage (oxyto- in [Pitocin; King Pharmaceuticals, Bris- ol, TN], misoprostol [Methergine; No- artis Pharmaceuticals, Basel, Switzerland, ytotec; Bristol-Myers Squibb, Skillman, J], carboprost [Hemabate; Pfizer, New ork, NY]). nternet based required reading ssignments and testing (2009) e created an inhouse internet-based assword protected reading and testing FEBRUARY 2011 Am rogram (http://www.InPrep.com) for rotocols and other publications related o labor and delivery safety. All attend- ngs and residents have been required to egularly read assigned literature and ass a multiple choice test related to the eading material. ompensation payments nd sentinel events e performed a retrospective review of bstetric compensation payments from 003 to 2009 collected by the MCIC. Ob- tetric compensation payments were de- ned as all actual payments made as a um of indemnity paid plus medicolegal xpenses paid for by the hospital for de- ending the case. In New York City, most rofessional liability suits are initiated ithin 2-3 years after delivery, and they re often not settled until many years ater. Therefore, in addition to actual ompensation payments, we also as- essed new and ongoing significant pro- essional liability suits (expected at 1,000,000 and above) and potential fu- ure professional liability suits. Data on entinel events at our institution were valuated from 2000 to 2009 by analyz- ng data obtained from a sentinel event dverse outcome database that is pro- pectively recorded by the hospital’s uality assurance committee. Sentinel vents are determined by the Medical enter according to Joint Commission tandards. The Joint Commission de- nes a sentinel event as “. . . an unex- ected occurrence involving death or se- ious physical or psychological injury, r the risk thereof . . .” (http://www. ointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/). t our institution, sentinel events included aternal deaths, and serious newborn in- uries, including birth asphyxia and hy- oxic ischemic encephalopathy. Results Compensation payments Figure 2 shows the yearly obstetric com- pensation payment totals paid out from 2003 to 2009. The 2009 compensation payment total constituted a 99.1% drop from the average 2003-2006 payments (from $27,591,610 to $ 250,000). The av- erage yearly compensation payment in the 3 years from 2007 to 2009 was erican Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology 101 http://www.InPrep.com http://www.jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/ http://www.jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/ c t a $ $ $ $ $ $ Reviews Patient Safety Series www.AJOG.org $2,550,136 as compared with an average of $27,591,610 in the previous 4 years (2003- 2006), a yearly saving of $25,041,475 (total: $75,124,424) during the last 3 years. The compensation payments between 2003 and 2008 included delivery dates before 2003. We also assessed potential future and pending professional liability suits through the early identification program. In 2006, we had 1 adverse out- come case that was identified through FIGURE 2 Compensation payments by year $30,464,590 $3,336, $50,940,309 $0 10,000,000 20,000,000 30,000,000 40,000,000 50,000,000 60,000,000 2003 2004 200 Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compensa FIGURE 3 Sentinel events by year (per 1000 d 1.04 0.60 0.64 0.82 0.00 0.20 0.40 0.60 0.80 1.00 1.20 2000 2001 2002 2003 20 (N=5) (N=2) (N=3) (N=3) (N=4) Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compensa 102 American Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology our program for the early identification of potential professional liability cases, and the case was settled expeditiously. In 2008 and 2009, for the first time in this decade, there was no professional liabil- ity suit initiated involving a possibly brain-damaged infant. In addition, there is currently only 1 active professional li- ability suit exceeding a $1 million esti- mated loss for an obstetric case from 2005 onward. One of the 2 other cur- $25,624,937 $2,852,620 $4,547,787 $250,000 2006 2007 2008 2009 payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. veries) 0.000.00 0.19 0.210.21 8 2005 2006 2007 2008 2009 (N=1)(N=1)(N=1) payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. t FEBRUARY 2011 rently pending “baby damage” suits in- volves deliveries before 2003. Table 3 shows the average time it takes from the event to payment. There is an average of 6.9 years (range, 0.6 –17.1 years) between the event and the pay- ment. On average, it takes 3.2 years (range, 0 –10 years) between the event and the claim and another 3.7 years (range, 0.3–10.4 years) between the claim and the payment. Of all claims, 65% (26/40) were made within 3 years after the event and 49% of payments (20/ 41) were made within 6 years after the event. Sentinel events and adverse outcomes Figure 3 shows the yearly rate of sentinel events per 1000 deliveries. There was a steady decline of sentinel events over the years of the study, from 1.04 sentinel events per 1000 deliveries in the year 2000, to no sentinel events in both 2008 and 2009. For the last 6 years, there has been no maternal death on labor and de- livery (we had 1 postpartum maternal death 10 days after discharge from a ce- rebrovascular accident) and there has been no permanent Erb’s palsy since we began shoulder dystocia drills in 2008. Since 2007 there was only 1 infant born of a total of 15,932 deliveries with the di- agnosis of hypoxic ischemic encephalop- athy (HIE) for an incidence of 0.6 HIE of 10,000 deliveries. Subsequently, that in- fant had no moderate or severe neurode- velopment impairments. In 2009 there was no infant born with HIE. The definition of HIE included a se- verely depressed newborn with need for resuscitation in the delivery room, evi- dence of severe acidemia at birth based on cord blood gas values and early ab- normal findings on neurologic examina- tion and/or abnormal assessment of ce- rebral function.32 Comment In 1999, the Institute of Medicine pub- lished a report challenging the prevailing wisdom that all was well with the Amer- ican health care system.8 This report alled for a sweeping overhaul and stated hat “higher level of care cannot be chieved by further stressing current sys- 605 5 tion eli 0.3 04 tion ems of care. The current care systems u i c y p w i c m l i a b b t c e i a n c l nsat www.AJOG.org Patient Safety Series Reviews cannot do the job. Trying harder will not work. Changing systems of care will.” There also have been increasing con- cerns about the rise in malpractice costs and its effect of availability of health care.31 After an external review of our obstet- ric service, we undertook comprehensive system changes beginning in 2003, to improve patient safety on our service. Among these patient safety changes were significant eliminations in practice vari- ations as well as significant improve- ments in communication methods be- tween staff. The main goal of these changes was to improve patient safety and decrease adverse outcomes. We did not expect a rapid and significant effect on compensation payments. Our results show that implementing a comprehensive obstetric patient safety program not only decreases severe ad- verse outcomes but can also have an im- mediate impact on compensation pay- ments. Beginning with the fourth year of the program, compensation payments began to drop significantly. Yearly pay- ments for the most recent 3 years (2007- 2009) averaged $2,550,136 as compared with average yearly payments of $27,591,610 for the preceding 4 years (2003-2006). The $25,041,475 yearly savings in compensation payments for the last 3 years alone dwarf the incre- mental cost of the patient safety program and are well above those reported by Simpson et al.32 In our opinion the doc- mented success of our patient safety mprovement program in decreasing ompensation payments for the past ears understates the true long-term im- act of the program on patient safety, as e expect significant savings to continue nto the future. Our neonatal intensive care unit is a enter for “cool cap” treatments (treat- ent of infants with neonatal encepha- opathy with hypothermia helmets), and t regularly treats infants with HIE.33 Of the more than 50 infants with HIE who were treated in this program over the last 3 years, only 1 among our own 15,932 deliveries came from our institution (the only 2007 sentinel event). Our observed departmental incidence of 0.6 HIE of 10,000 deliveries in the last 3 years is well below the reported 25 of 10,000 deliver- ies.34 On follow-up, this infant had no moderate or severe neurodevelopment impairments and hence for the last 3 years there are presently no known HIE brain damaged infants “in the pipeline.” As the amount of compensation pay- ments for an infant with neurodevelop- ment impairments can be well in excess of $10 million in New York City, the pre- vention of each and every 1 of these cases is crucial to minimize such payments. The Institute for Safe Medication Practices (ISMP) has added oxytocin to its list of high alert medications.35 The use of oxytocin during labor has been found to be associated with malpractice claims.36 Using oxytocin during labor may have a negative impact on the prob- ability of successfully defending a pro- fessional liability case, and its misuse, especially its association with hyper- stimulation, has been alleged to be re- sponsible for many if not most of the ad- verse outcomes and professional liability litigation involving abnormal labor.37-40 The best defense against legal chal- lenges involving the misuse of oxytocin is to use the drug judiciously and in ac- cord with institutional policies.41 How- ever, despite reports that standardized and uniform practice patterns are known to have better outcomes than greater practice variations, medical prac- tice continues to be characterized by wide variations that have little basis in clinical science.16 This is especially true TABLE 3 Yearly compensation payments an Year Payments 2003 $50,940,309 ................................................................................................................... 2004 $30,464,590 ................................................................................................................... 2005 $3,336,605 ................................................................................................................... 2006 $25,624,937 ................................................................................................................... 2007 $2,852,620 ................................................................................................................... 2008 $4,547,787 ................................................................................................................... 2009 $250,000 ................................................................................................................... 2003-2009 $117,991,848 ................................................................................................................... Grunebaum. Obstetric patient safety measures and compe for oxytocin usage, which has many per- i FEBRUARY 2011 Am sistent variations even within the same institution.42 Clark et al41 concluded that physiologically sound and evidence- ased approach to oxytocin use is possi- le and explained that it may be difficult o effect change in practice when physi- ians so often see no untoward effects of xcessive uterine activity. It has been suggested that implement- ng a uniform oxytocin policy and using n oxytocin checklist may improve peri- atal outcomes.43-45 We also found that implementing a uniform oxytocin pro- tocol and checklist helped our staff make better use of oxytocin and allowed nurses to focus on better patient care instead of following protocols that varied from physician to physician. Implementing a uniform oxytocin protocol likely con- tributed to our improved patient safety and prevention of adverse outcomes. Our experience supports the recommen- dation that: “. . . Malpractice loss is best avoided by reduction in adverse out- comes and the development of unam- biguous practice guidelines.”5 Many pregnant women are given mi- soprostol “off-label” for cervical ripen- ing and labor induction even though this medication is not approved for use in la- bor and is associated with an increase in uterine hyperstimulation and resultant fetal asphyxia and uterine rupture, am- niotic fluid embolism, perinatal mortal- ity, and HIE in surviving infants.46 Be- ause of these concerns, we decided to imit the use of misoprostol in labor to vent-to-payment time Event-to-payment average (range), y 5.9 (1.1–10.3) .................................................................................................................. 10.5 (3.9–17.1) .................................................................................................................. 5.5 (1.2–9.5) .................................................................................................................. 8.2 (4.1–13.2) .................................................................................................................. 8.1 (5.0–12.0) .................................................................................................................. 4.7 (0.6–14.4) .................................................................................................................. 0.8 .................................................................................................................. 6.9 (0.6–17.1) .................................................................................................................. ion payments. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2011. d e ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... ......... nductions in a nonviable fetus. erican Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology 103 i t e c l p e s a b s c c p t l c t Reviews Patient Safety Series www.AJOG.org Good teamwork promotes profes- sional integrity and is essential in deliv- ering optimal patient care,47 and failure n communication and teamwork is of- en cited as a common cause of adverse vents.6,48,49,50 We found that teamwork an be further improved in labor and de- ivery by maintaining an electronic com- rehensive communication board as the ssential hub for communications among taff. Sleep deprivation can impair safety, nd establishing a laborist program has een recommended to improve safety.28 The hiring of a laborist allowed our ob- stetricians to work reduced inhospital hours and likely contributed to the im- proved safety climate and improved out- comes at our institution. The traditional erasable labor and de- livery white board usually reflects situa- tional awareness, the state of knowing what is going on with patients and in the unit. Unfortunately, most obstetric units still use a dry erasable white board that has severe limitations, including accessi- bility and space limitations. We believe that the implementation of a centralized, internet-based comprehensive electronic “white board” with automatic alarms and color-coding18 significantly improved ituational awareness and thus may have ontributed in decreasing adverse out- omes and reducing compensation ayments. Historically, EFM tracings have been in- erpreted with wide variations among the abor and delivery staff, often leading to in- onsistent decision making in response to racing interpretation. MacEachin et al51 showed improved communication as well as improved safety perception by the staff with the use of a common EFM language after a multidisciplinary EFM training program. Our study is limited by its retrospective nature. There were numerous changes made over several years, so that the im- pact of any one change on a single out- come measure cannot be individually determined. It is possible, that because of the retrospective nature of this report, there may have been other unknown fac- tors that contributed to the reduction of compensation payments and sentinel events. 104 American Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology To paraphrase Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) who said “Life is a journey not a destination,” we believe that achieving patient safety on labor and de- livery is a journey, not a destination. Improving patient safety requires ex- tensive and considerate changes, physi- cian and staff cooperation, constant vig- ilance, flexibility, and rapid adaption based on new experiences and it may take considerable time to reap financial benefits in the future. Making significant changes on a labor and delivery unit including such features as the implementation of a standardized oxytocin protocol, electronic charting, team training, and improving situational awareness through a central communi- cation system, should be considered by all obstetric services. As we have shown, these changes can increase pa- tient safety, decrease sentinel events, and, as a consequence, reduce compen- sation payments. f REFERENCES 1. Weinstein L. A multifaceted approach to im- prove patient safety, prevent medical errors and resolve the professional liability crisis. Am J Ob- stet Gynecol 2006;194:1160-5. 2. Wagner B, Meirowitz N, Cohen P, et al. Peri- natal safety initiative to reduce adverse obstetric events. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2009;201:S45. 3. Pettker CM, Thung SF, Norwitz ER, et al. Im- pact of a comprehensive patient safety strategy on obstetric adverse events. Am J Obstet Gy- necol 2009;200:492.e1-8. 4. Pettker C, Thung S, Raab C, Copel J, Funai J. A comprehensive OB patient safety program improves safety climate and culture. Am J Ob- stet Gynecol 2009;201:S202-3. 5. Clark SL, Belfort MA, Dildy GA, Herbst MA, Meyers JA, Hankins GD. Maternal death in the 21st century: causes, prevention, and relation- ship to cesarean delivery. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;199:36.e1-5. 6. Sutcliffe KM, Lewton E, Rosenthal MM. Communication failures: an insidious contribu- tor to medical mishaps. Acad Med 2004;79: 186-94. 7. Simpson KR, James DC, Knox GE. Nurse- physician communication during labor and birth: implications for patient safety. J Obstet Gynecol Neonatal Nurs 2006;35:547-56. 8. Kohn LT, Corrigan JM, Donaldson MS, eds. Committee on Quality of Health Care in Amer- ica, Institute of Medicine. To err is human: build- ing a safer health system. Washington, DC: Na- tional Academy Press; 1999:1-312. FEBRUARY 2011 9. Mann S, Pratt SD. Team approach to care in labor and delivery. Clin Obstet Gynecol 2008; 51:666-79. 10. Nielsen PE, Goldman MB, Mann S, et al. Effects of teamwork training on adverse out- comes and process of care in labor and deliv- ery: a randomized controlled trial. Obstet Gy- necol 2007;109:48-55. 11. Williams DG. Practice patterns to decrease the risk of a malpractice suit. Obstet Gynecol 2008;51:680-7. 12. Eden KB, Messina R, Li H, Osterweil P, Henderson CR, Guise JM. Examining the value of electronic health records on labor and deliv- ery. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;199: 307.e1-9. 13. Joint Commission on Accreditation of Healthcare Organizations: Sentinel event alert. Issue 30, July 21, 2004. Available at: www. jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/Sentinel EventAlert/sea_30.html. Accessed July 1, 2010. 14. Fonseca L, Wood HC, Lucas MJ, et al. Ran- domized trial of preinduction cervical ripening: misoprostol vs oxytocin. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;199:305.e1-5. 15. Hofmeyr GJ, Gülmezoglu AM Vaginal miso- prostol for cervical ripening and induction of la- bour. Cochrane Database Syst Rev 2003; CD000494. 16. Wennberg JE. Unwarranted variations in healthcare delivery: implications for academic medical centres. BMJ 2002;325:961-4. 17. Simpson KR, Knox GE. Obstetrical acci- dents involving intravenous magnesium sulfate: recommendations to promote patient safety. MCN Am J Matern Child Nurs 2004;29:161-9. 18. Conde-Agudelo A, Romero R. Antenatal magnesium sulfate for the prevention of cere- bral palsy in preterm infants less than 34 weeks’ gestation: a systematic review and metaanaly- sis. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2009;200:595-609. 19. Rouse DJ. Magnesium sulfate for the pre- vention of cerebral palsy. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2009;200:610-2. 20. Mavroforou A, Koumantakis E, Micha- lodimitrakis E. Physicians’ liability in obstetric and gynecology practice. Med Law 2005; 24:1-9. 21. Deering S, Poggi S, Macedonia C, et al. Improving resident competency in the manage- ment of shoulder dystocia with simulation train- ing. Obstet Gynecol 2004;103:1224. 22. Grunebaum A, Langsenkamp C, Cherve- nak FA. An intelligent web-based board to im- prove patient safety and communication on la- bor and delivery. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2005: 193:S97. 23. Macones GA, Hankins GD, Spong CY, Hauth J, Moore T. The 2008 National Institute of Child Health and Human Development work- shop report on electronic fetal monitoring: up- date on definitions, interpretation, and research guidelines. Obstet Gynecol 2008;112:661-6. 24. Duhl AJ, Paidas MJ, Ural SH, et al. Anti- thrombotic therapy and pregnancy: consensus report and recommendations for prevention http://www.jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/SentinelEventAlert/sea_30.html http://www.jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/SentinelEventAlert/sea_30.html http://www.jointcommission.org/SentinelEvents/SentinelEventAlert/sea_30.html www.AJOG.org Patient Safety Series Reviews and treatment of venous thromboembolism and adverse pregnancy outcomes. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2007:197:457.e1-21. 25. Quiñones J, James D, Cleary K, Stamilio D, Macones G. Thromboprophylaxis after cesar- ean section: a decision analysis. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2004;191:S93. 26. Goffman D, Heo H, Pardanani P, Merkatz IR, Bernstein PS. Improving shoulder dystocia management among resident and attending physicians using simulations. Am J Obstet Gy- necol 2008;199:294.e1-5. 27. Gurewitsch E, Cha S, Johnson T, et al. Traction training for routine and shoulder dys- tocia deliveries: an experimental study. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2005;193:S41. 28. Weinstein L, Garite TJ. On call for obstetrics—time for a change. Am J Obstet Gy- necol 2007;196:3. 29. Clark SL. Sleep deprivation: implications for obstetric practice in the United States. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2009;201:136.e1-4. 30. Funk C, Anderson BL, Schulkin J, Wein- stein L. Survey of obstetric and gynecologic hospitalists and laborists. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2010;203:177.e1-4. 31. Laros RK, Presidential address: medical-le- gal issues in obstetrics and gynecology Am J Obstet Gynecol 2005;192:1883. 32. Simpson KR, Kortz CC, Knox E. A compre- hensive perinatal patient safety program to re- duce preventable adverse outcomes and costs of liability claims. Jt Comm J Qual Patient Saf 2009;35:565-74. 33. Perlman J. Induced hypothermia: a novel neuroprotective treatment of neonatal enceph- alopathy after intrapartum hypoxia-ischemia. Curr Treat Options Neurol 2005;7:451-8. 34. Graham EM, Ruis KA, Hartman AL, North- ington FJ, Fox HE. A systematic review of the role of intrapartum hypoxia-ischemia in the cau- sation of neonatal encephalopathy. Am J Ob- stet Gynecol 2008;199:587-95. 35. Institute for Safe Medical practices. ISMP’s List of High-Alert Medications. Available at: http://www.ismp.org/Tools/highalertmedications. pdf. Accessed Jan. 24, 2010. 36. Jonsson M, Nordén SL, Hanson U. Analysis of malpractice claims with a focus on oxytocin use in labour. Acta Obstet Gynecol Scand 2007;86:315-9. 37. Simpson KR, James DC. Effects of oxyto- cin-induced uterine hyperstimulation during la- bor on fetal oxygen status and fetal heart rate patterns. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;199: 34.e1-5. 38. Milsom I, Ladfors L, Thiringer K, Niklasson A, Odeback A, Thornberg E. Influence of mater- nal, obstetric and fetal risk factors on the prev- alence of birth asphyxia at term in a Swedish urban population. Acta Obstet Gynecol Scand 2002;81:909-17. 39. Berglund S, Grunewald C, Pettersson H, Cnattingius S. Severe asphyxia due to delivery- related malpractice in Sweden 1990-2005. BJOG 2008;115:316-23. 40. Cohen WR, Schifrin BS. Medical negligence lawsuits relating to labor and delivery. Clin Peri- natol 2007;34:345-60, vii-viii. 41. Clark SL, Simpson KR, Knox GE, Garite TJ. Oxytocin: new perspectives on an old drug. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2009;200:35.e1-6. 42. American College of Obstetrics and Gyne- cology Committee on Practice Bulletins-Ob- stetrics. ACOG practice bulletin no. 49, Decem- ber 2003: dystocia and augmentation of labor. Obstet Gynecol 2003;102:1445-54. FEBRUARY 2011 Am 43. Clark S, Belfort M, Saade G, et al. Imple- mentation of a conservative checklist-based protocol for oxytocin administration: maternal and newborn outcomes. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2007;197:480.e1-5. 44. Freeman RK, Nageotte M. A protocol for use of oxytocin. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2007; 197:445-6. 45. Hayes EJ, Weinstein L. Improving patient safety and uniformity of care by a standardized regimen for the use of oxytocin. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;198:622.e1-7 46. Wagner M. Off-label use of misoprostol in obstetrics: a cautionary tale. BJOG 2005;112: 266-8. 47. Chervenak FA, McCullough LB. Neglected ethical dimensions of the professional liability crisis. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2004;190: 1198-200. 48. Arora V, Johnson J, Lovinger D, Humphrey HJ, Meltzer DO. Communication failures in pa- tient sign-out and suggestions for improve- ment: a critical incident analysis. Qual Saf Health Care 2005;14:401-7. 49. Gawande AA, Zinner MJ, Studdert DM, Brennan TA. Analysis of errors reported by sur- geons at three teaching hospitals. Surgery 2003;133:614-21. 50. Clark SL, Belfort MA, Byrum SL, Meyers JA, Perlin JB. Improved outcomes, fewer cesarean deliveries, and reduced litigation: results of a new paradigm in patient safety. Am J Obstet Gynecol 2008;199:105.e1-7. 51. MacEachin SR, Lopez CM, Powell KJ, Cor- bett NL. The fetal heart rate collaborative prac- tice project: situational awareness in electronic fetal monitoring-a Kaiser Permanente Perinatal Patient Safety Program Initiative. J Perinat Neo- natal Nurs 2009;23:314-23; quiz 324-5. erican Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology 105 http://www.ismp.org/Tools/highalertmedications.pdf http://www.ismp.org/Tools/highalertmedications.pdf Effect of a comprehensive obstetric patient safety program on compensation payments and sentinel events Materials and Methods Patient safety program Consultant Review (2002) Labor and delivery team training (2003) Electronic medical record charting (2003) Chain of communication for labor and delivery (2003) Dedicated gynecology attending on call (2004) Limitation of misoprostol to induction of labor or cervical ripening for a nonviable fetus (2004) Standardized oxytocin labor induction and stimulation protocol (2005) Premixed and safety color-coded labeled magnesium sulfate and oxytocin solutions (2005) Electronic medical record templates for shoulder dystocia and operative deliveries (2005) Early identification of potential obstetric professional liability cases (2005) Obstetric patient safety nurse (2005) Electronic online communication whiteboard (2006) Recruitment of physician's assistants for labor and delivery (2006) Electronic fetal monitor interpretation certification (2006) Electronic antepartum medical records (2006) Routine thromboembolism prophylaxis for all cesarean deliveries (2006) Obstetric emergency drills (2006) Recruitment of a laborist (2007) Oxytocin initiation checklist (2009) Postpartum hemorrhage kit (2009) Internet based required reading assignments and testing (2009) Compensation payments and sentinel events Results Compensation payments Sentinel events and adverse outcomes Comment References 
work_6hssrwqvbzaqrczwxqp4p2kse4	----	PTS volume 12 Cover and Front matter Volume 12 Edited by Jack Salzman Center for American Cmltiare Studies terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 https://www.cambridge.org/core Cover Illustration "Wall Street, 1850" by A. Kollner Courtesy of the New York Library Eno Collection; Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. Editorial Office: Jack Salzman, Editor, Prospects, Center for American Culture Studies, 603 Lewisohn Hall, Columbia University, New York, NY 10027, U.S.A. Publishing and Subscription Offices: Cambridge University Press, 32 East 57th Street, New York, NY 10022, U.S.A.; or Cambridge University Press, The Edinburgh Building, Shaftesbury Road, Cam- bridge CB2 2RU, England. Subscription Information: Prospects (ISSN 0361-2333) is published annually in softcover. Institu- tional subscription rates for W u m e 13,1988: US $51.00 in the U.S.A. and Canada, UK £29.00 in the UK. and Eire, and UK £31.00 elsewhere; for individuals: US $37.00 in the U.S.A. and Canada and UK £2100 in all other countries. Prices include postage and insurance. Back Volumes: All back volumes available. Contact the Cambridge subscription office. Copyright © 1987 Cambridge University Press. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, electronic, photocopying or otherwise, without permission in writing from Cambridge University Press. Photocopying information for users in the USA.: The Item-Fee Code for this publication (0361-2333/88 $5.00 + .00) indicates that copying for internal or personal use beyond that permitted by Sec. 107 or 108 of the U.S. Copyright Law is authorized for users duly registered with the Copyright Clearance Center (CCC) Transaction Reporting Service, provided that the appropriate remittance of $5.00 per article is paid directly to: CCC, 27 Congress Street, Salem, MA 01970. Specific written permission must be obtained for all other copying. Printed in the United States of America terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 https://www.cambridge.org/core Contents Boundary as Center: Inventing an American Studies Culture Michael Cowan 1 American Studies and the Radical Tradition: From the 1930s to the 1960s Guenter H. Lenz 21 "The Vanishing Race" in Sight and Sound: Edward S. Curtis's Musicale of North American Indian Life Mick Gidley 59 Making the American Way: Moderne Theatres, Audiences, and The Film Industry 1929-1945 Lary May (with Stephen Lassonde) 89 James Guy: A Surreal Commentator Ilene Susan Fort 125 American Psychiatry: An Ambivalent Specialty Gerald N. Grob 149 "Intervals of Tranquility": The Language of Health in Antebellum America Joan Burbick 175 Forms of Self-Representation in Booker T. Washington's Up from Slavery William E. Cain 201 The Return of Nat Turner in Sixties America Albert E. Stone 223 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 https://www.cambridge.org/core ii CONTENTS A Crisis of Identity: The Sketch Book and Nineteenth-Century American Culture Jeffrey Rubin-Dorsky 255 Emerson's Rhetoric of War Michael Lopez 293 Reproducing Walt Whitman: The Camera, the Omnibus and Leaves of Grass Miles Orvell 321 The Twilight of Transcendentalism: Ralph Waldo Emerson, Edward Weston, and the End of Nineteenth-Century Literary Nature Ralph F. Bogardus 347 The Last Tycoon and Max Eastman: Fitzgerald's Complete Political Primer Neill R. Joy 365 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0361233300005500 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_6ih52uffdrhwtkyuy74vs3kf4m	----	A better mousetrap LANDWAIlKS I1 HEPATOLOGY A Better Mousetrap lood spurts as from a geyser, and prompt action is required. With its familiar hiss, suction is applied, and an expanding redness comes into view, like a vermilion Carolina moon waxing in accelerated time. The knob is turned, and a satisfying muffled click is felt more than heard. Warily, the vacuum is released and the knuckle of once gushing mucosa, now ensnared with a shiny black rubber ring, recedes slowly from sight like the jettisoned stage of a spacecraft. Another bleeding varix, temporarily staunched only weeks ago with a styptic in- jection, has finally been successfully obliterated (Fig. 1) l . It seems a little surprising now that the occurrence of esophagogastric varices in cirrhosis and their propensity to bleed became widely appreciated only late in the his- tory of hepatology, after the turn of the 20th century.2 Although modern estimates do range widely, we know that the prevalence of varices in cirrhosis, their risk of bleeding and rebleeding and the consequent mortality, are all in the 20% to 80% range, depending upon the variables in the study and the particular stratification used.3 Nonetheless, William Osler, who recognized the existence of esophageal varices4 and had himselfwitnessed a fatality therefrom,5 had personal experience of only two cases by the time he published his famous textbook in 1892, in which, forsooth, he also wrote that hemorrhage from gastric varices was seldom f a d 6 The existence of esophageal varices had actually been clearly established 50 years earlier, in 1840, by William Power of Maryland, who reported on the autopsy of a 50-year-old man of robust frame, intemperate habits, and deficient intelli- gence.7 The patient, who died of gastrointestinal hemor- rhage, was found to have “Varicose veins of the oesophagus” that Power had never met with before, nor had he found a similar case recorded. Power wondered, “. . .whether the presence ofvarices to such an extent, and death caused by their rupture, be not-something as yet unheard of in pathological anatomy.”7 Power’s discovery was later confirmed in a report from France,8 but even so this was still the only experience of that entity for Friedrich Theodor von Frerichs, the founder of modern hepatology, by the time his own textbook was written.’ Admittedly it was well nigh impossible then to diagnose in life the presence of varices-silent or otherwise-in the years before Adolf Kussmaul performed the first really practical esophagoscopy in Freiburg in 1868, using an ~ ~~~~ ~ ~~ Copyright 0 2004 by the American Association fir the S d y of Liver Diseases. Published online in Wiley Interscience (www. interscience. wiley.com). DOI 10.1002lhep.20449 endoscope designed for the urethra and bladder by Anto- nin J. Dtsormeaux of the Acadtmie de Mkdecine in Paris, and with the skillful cooperation of his intrepid first sub- ject, a visiting sword swallower who was performing at a local inn.’” The development of flexible fiber-optic en- doscopy by Basil Hirschowitz and others in the 195Os,l1 culminating in the first reports of its clinical use, initially in May 1961 ,l2,13 conveniently expanded the patient pool to include less-supple individuals (than Kussmaul’s itin- erant showman), for whom this procedure would be fea- sible, thereby illuminating the way for the endoscopic evaluation and treatment of varices that we enjoy today. Preble’s report,2 at the beginning of the 20th century, of 60 patients with cirrhosis and fatal gastrointestinal bleeding, of whom 80% had esophageal varices, foretold an era of intensive investigation of portal hypertension14 and a de- mand for effective therapies to combat this most lethal com- plication of cirrhosis, either by decompressing the portal system and/or diverting variceal blood flow elsewherel5 or simply by obliterating the varices in the hope that the prob- lem would go away. From the mid 1940s, and for the longest while, shunt surgery was king, with its peak popularity in the 1970s followed by the development of selective shunts and devascularization procedures in the next decade or so, be- cause of dissatisfaction with the morbidity of surgically in- duced encephalopathy and liver failure. With the growth of successfd liver transplantation and the development of non- surgical methods for treating bleeding varices, enthusiasm for shunt surgery has been tempered in favor of pharmaco- logical, endoscopic, and interventional radiological treat- ment, while selective shunts are reserved for patients with good liver h c t i o n (especially those with portal hyperten- sion without cirrhosis) and, in some cases, shunts and devas- cularization procedures may be used when other treatments fail.17-20 In this context, the idea of obliterating varices rather than bypassing them with a surgically created shunt dates back more than 50 years to a w e report that described si- multaneous variceal suture ligation and injection with a scle- rosing solution at thoracotomy, through an esophagus that had been split open almost from stem to stern, from the level of the aortic arch to the diaphragm.21 Thereafter, the tech- niques of vascular shunting, sclerotherapy, and ligation evolved along parallel (and occasionally intersecting) paths, each with its fervent advocates vying for the favors ofpatients with portal hypertension and varices that had bled or were doomed to do so. Surgeons began to divert the flow of blood from the portal to the systemic circulation in patients with portal hypertension, even before they fully understood the dis- 1023 1024 REUBEN HEPATOLOGY, October 2004 pioneered temporizing balloon tamponade techniques for acute variceal bleeding2* From the 1970s to the 1990s, total portal decompressive shunts gave way to selective shunts and eventually to partial portal shunts, using graded interposition conduits.25 For a while it seemed that there were countless ways for surgeons to bypass var- ices and/or decompress the portal venous system, as they used all of their anatomical ingenuity. Unfortunately, while the need to prevent variceal bleeding by surgery was well fulfilled, all such operations, in greater or lesser mea- sure, were wanting with respect to patient morbidity, due to encephalopathy and liver failure, and mortality. Physi- cians desired better overall results for their patients and not just the cessation of hemorrhage. And as historian, philosopher, and guru of invention Henry Petroski theo- rizes, it is the desire to improve on the failings of existing technology that drives innovation and not simply that there is a need to innovate.26 Want, says Petroski, and not necessity, is the mother of invention. This principle and its corollary that no invention is perfect and that every- thing is susceptible to change and improvement in time is Fig. 1. Bleeding esophageal varices. (A) In an endoscopic photograph - of the esophagus of a 56-year-old alcoholic man with massive hemate- mesis, blood can be seen spurting from a ruptured varix (arrow). (B) After very well exemplified by the successive and continuing innovation in the treatment of portal hypertension and injection sclerotherapy of the variceal trunk and immediate hemostasis, . . . . .. the source of bleeding was revealed as a white nipple, which represents VarlCed bleeding. what was thought to be a fibrin-platelet plug (arrow). Endoscopic variceal ligation was performed for recurrent bleeding from the same source three weeks after the initial episode. (C) The white object (arrow) is the remnant of a banded varix. Reproduced with permission from Navarro and Reuben.l ease and its complications of ascites and variceal hemor- rhage that they hoped to cure.16 Portosystemic shunts were performed in patients in the early part of the 20th century, in the years before the First World War- based on the surgical anastomosis between the portal vein and the inferior vena cava in dogs, described by Nikolai Vlad- imirovich Eck in Moscow in 1 87722-to replace the then- fashionable operation of splenectomy that was combined with the curious procedure of omentopexy, in which the omentum was sewn to the parietal peritoneum to produce portosystemic collaterals. l6 That William Mayo strongly favored splenectomy (as did Harvey Cushing and William Halsted before him) and omentopexy, and that 7 of Eck's 8 canine patients died of the operation (while the survivor was allowed to run away by a careless technician) 16 did not dampen the enthusiasm of pathfinding shunt surgeons in those days. Interest in Eck's fistula was revived by Archibald McIndoe, as a result of his detailed pathological vascular studies in cirrhosis in the late 192Os,l5 and the idea was enthusiastically and variously adapted by Allen Oldfather Whipple and his many disciples at Columbia- Presbyterian in New York City,23 who incidentally also The desire to create a portosystemic shunt and yet avoid the deleterious effects of surgery, usually but not exclusively expressed by nonsurgeons,17 gave rise to the familiar radiologically created transjugular intrahepatic portosystemic shunt (TIPS) that is ubiquitous t0day.~7 First achieved crudely by dragging a Gruntzig balloon, inflated in the portal vein, through liver tissue to create a track to the hepatic vein,28 the predictable failure of this early method due to track closure has been remedied, partially at least, by deploying a metal conduit between the portal and hepatic veins29-31 as predated by experi- mental efforts in dogs more than 30 years ag0.3~ Variceal sclerotherapy has passed through many itera- tions too, since the first description of an endoscopic ap- proach by a thoracic surgeon and otolaryngologist in 1939 who used an quinine-uretan sclerosant and an idea borrowed from the treatment of rectal hemorrhoids.33 Although later the percutaneous transhepatic approach to both ~clerotherapy3~J5 and variceal embolization36 was short-lived, the technique of endoscopic sclerotherapy progressed from using a rigid esophagoscope or fiber-op- tic endoscope with a flexible oversheath, both under gen- eral anesthesia,37 to performing the procedure electively or in an emergency with an unmodified modern video endoscope under conscious sedation, using any one of the many sclerosants a~ailable,3~,39 including cyanoacrylate in some c o ~ n t r i e s . * ~ Despite the exceptional success of en- doscopically delivered injection sclerotherapy in control- HEPATOLOGY, Vol. 40, No. 4 , 2004 REUBEN 1025 ling acute variceal hemorrhage and the achievement of a significant reduction in bleeding r e c ~ r r e n c e , ~ ’ this form of variceal therapy has its shortcomings too, in terms of patient morbidity. Sclerotherapy can produce mucosal ulcers that bleed, esophageal stenosis, the rare case of esophageal perforation, and other unpleasant misadven- tures such as adult respiratory distress syndrome, bronch- oesophageal fistula, chylothorax, pneumothorax, and media~tinitis.3~ Besides, brandishing a naked needle loaded with sclerosant in the vicinity of a bleeding varix that must be speared, no more than a fingerbreadth from the heart, lungs and great vessels, in a bucking patient, is not for the faint-hearted. By the mid 1980s, the moment was ripe for another leap forward in variceal therapy. This came as the exquisitely simple but effective remedy of endoscopic variceal band ligation that was first published in 1988 in two landmark a r t i ~ l e s ~ ~ 3 ~ 3 from the Mile High City of Denver, not far from the Rocky Mountains in the Centennial State of Colorful Colorado. Compared to the many innovations over the years of sur- gical and radiological portosystemic shunting, sclerotherapy, and pharmacotherapy for portal hypertensive variceal bleed- ing, there had been little progress in variceal ligation since the surgical operations of the 1950s, except that ligation could be accomplished via a small rather than large esophageal inci- sion by pulling on the pliable mucosa to bring the varices into view from both the esophagus and ~tomach.4~,~5 Even in the early 1970s, ligation was still being performed surgically for acute variceal bleeding, with good results for Child-Tur- cotte-Pugh Class A patients and moderate success for Class B patients, but almost certain demise (90% mortality) for Class C patients, who also suffered the morbidity of fistulae at the esophageal suture line more frequently (20%) than the other patients.46 Like Clarence Crafoord and Paul Frenckner 50 years before him,33 Gregory Van Stiegmann, then Assistant Professor of Surgery at the University of Colorado School of Medicine (where he is now Professor of Surgery and Associ- ate Dean and Vice-president for Clinical AfEairs), was in- spired to improve the treatment of esophageal varices while gazing at rectal hemorrhoids that he was treating. Stiegmann had had considerable experience with endoscopic esophageal sclerotherapy from his training in surgery and surgical endos- copy during a brief sojourn in Cape Town, South Africa. He wondered whether the nonoperative rubber-band ligation procedure that he was using on the hemorrhoids, and that had superseded sclerotherapy for that purpose, could be adapted to treat esophageal varices too. By producing a “suc- tion polyp” of the pliable esophageal mucosa to “grasp the varix,” so to speak, he reasoned that it should then be possible to apply the ligating rubber bands in the esophagus. Using personal funds accrued from consulting fees, Stiegmann commissioned engineers of the machine shop at the Univer- Fig. 2 . (A) The original endoscopic ligating device. The instrument was carved from stainless steel and screwed onto the endoscope in place of the lens cap. A single black rubber “0” ring is shown in place over the distal end of the device. (B) The trip wire and the components used to assemble and load the ligator. Photographs generously provided by the inventor, Dr. Greg Van Stiegmann. sity to fashion a stainless steel ligator, consisting of an outer cylinder and an inner cylinder, which was screwed onto the tip of an endoscope instead of its lens cap (Fig. 2A, 2B).47 Using a single latex “0” ring and a trip wire, the efficacy of Stiegmann’s gadget was first established using a canine model of varices.42 Then he and John Goff, a colleague and friend in the Division of Gastroenterology in Denver, showed that the procedure was feasible, safe, and effective clinically by performing 132 varix ligations during 44 sepa- rate sessions in 14 consecutive patients under topical anes- thesia and/or conscious sedation, using an over-tube and a single-fire te~hnique.~3 In the 10 patients who completed the course of treatment (2 died of unrelated causes and 2 were noncompliant), all achieved complete variceal eradication after a mean of 3.9 sessions, and there were no major com- plications. These excellent results were subsequently borne out in numerous studies thereafter by Stiegmann48 and oth- ers,49 and superiority over sclerotherapy was established. True to Petroski‘s predictions, the Stiegmann-Goff tech- nique has been modified to improve performance and re- duce failures due to complications, such as trauma caused by the over-tube50 that was needed for the single-fire device. Translucent plastic ligators that fit snuggly over the tip of the endoscope have been developed, with repeat-fire capabili- ties51 that obviate the need for repeated intubation and the use of an over-tube. Incidentally, Stephen Perry of the rubber manufacturing company Messrs Perry and Co., London, England, would have been gratified to learn that Stiegmann has extended the utility of the rubber band, which he in- vented originally to hold papers or envelopes together and patented in 1845. Endoscopic variceal ligation is now recommended by many a~thorities38,4~,5~,53 as first-line treatment for bleeding esophageal varices and to prevent rebleeding. Its widespread 1026 REUBEN HEPATOLOGY, October 2004 use has not been adopted yet, possibly in part due to the cost of the disposable equipment,39 which local ingenuity in some less-afffuent parts of the world has overcome by using what the authors describe as indigenous s~bstitutes.5~ By substituting bands used for hemorroidal ligation and fash- ioning an introducer (to slip the “0” ring on the cylinder) from a glass pipette and a tripwire from the wire used to string tennis raquets, the authors saved thousands of ru- pees.54 The next logical step in this saga will probably be to recommend prophylactic banding to prevent the first hem- orrhage,55,56 although for some doubters the notion of this motion is still controversial.57 “If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon or make a better mousetrap, than his neighbor, though he build his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door.” Whether or not these words were ever uttered or written by the American essayist, poet, and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson is still a matter for ~ o n j e c t u r e , 5 ~ a but the sentiment that quality prevails in the marketplace is clearly true for Stiegmann’s invention. Parenthetically, it must be noted that the Patent Office has issued over 4,000 mousetrap patents, although none have surpassed the quality of the trap invented by John Mast of Lititz, PA, in 1899.59 Whereas a path may not have been beaten to Greg Stiegmann’s door, partly because his invention has never really been eponymous and partly because of the high altitude of his mountainous retreat, it is unquestionably one of the better traps that has yet been devised to ensnare that most elusive mouse, the bleeding esophageal varix. Acknowledgments: The author thanks Dr. Gregory Van Stiegmann for generously imparting the story of his invention of endoscopic variceal band ligation and for providing the photographs of his prototypic device. Mar- gie Myers continues to provide skilled manuscript prepa- ration and literature retrieval. ADRIAN REUBEN, M.B.B.S., F.R.C.P. Professo r o f Medicine Division of Gastroenterology and Hepatology Department ofMedicine Medical University of South Carolina Charleston, SC While this sentence has never been found in Emerson i. works, he is believed t o have used it in a lecture either at San Francisco or Oakland, Calfornia, in 1871. Borrowings was an anthology compiled by women of the First Unitarian Church of Oakland, and Sarah Yule contributed this sentence, which she had copiedfiom an address years b&ore. There has been some controversy because others, including Elbert Hubbard have claimed authorship. (Source: Respectjidly quoted: a dictio- navy of quotations requested fiom the Congressional Research Service. Edited by Suzy Plan. Washington: Libravy o f Cong-ess, US GPO, 1989.) References 1. Navarro V, Reuben A. Bleeding esophageal varices. N Engl J Med 1994; 331:1129. 2. Preble PB. Conclusions based on sixty cases of fatal gascrointestinal hem- orrhage due to cirrhosis of the liver. Am 1 Med Sci 1900;119:263-280. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23, 24 25 26 - de Franchis R, Primignani M. Natural history of portal hypertension in patients with cirrhosis. Clin Liver Dis 2001;5:645-663. Osler W. Section 111 Diseases of the Digestive System. V. Diseases of the oesophagus. In: The principles and practice of medicine, designed for the use of practitioners and students ofmedicine. New York, NY: D. Appleton and Company; 1892:340. Osler W . Cirrhosis of the liver; fatal hemorrhage from oesophageal varix. Transactions of the Pathological Society of Philadelphia 1887; 13:276- 277. Osler W . Section 111 Diseases of the Digestive System. IV. Cirrhosis. In: The Principles and practice of medicine, designed for the use of practitio- ners and students of medicine. New York, NY: D. Appleton and Com- pany; 1892:443. Power W . Contributions to pathology. The Maryland Medical and Surgi- cal Journal 1840;1:306-318. Le Diberder and Fauvel. De 1’ hCmatCmise due B des varices de I’ oesoph- age, B propos d e w observations. Rec Trav SOC Med (Paris) 1857-1858;l: 257-284. Frerichs FT. Chapter 111. Inflammation of the liver. Its various forms and consequences. 11. Inflammation of the hepatic parenchyma. A. Diffuse hepatitis. 4. Symptoms of cirrhosis. 9. Characters presented by the liver. Translated by Charles Murchison. Val. 11. New York, NY: Wm. Wood and Co.; 1879:81. Brown Kelly H D . Origins ofoesophagoscopy. J R SOC bled 1969;62:781- 786. Hirshowitz BI. The development and application of fiberoptic endoscopy. Cancer 1988;61:1935-1941. Hirschowitz BI. Endoscopic examination of the stomach and duodenal cap with the Fiberscope. Lancet 1961;1:1074-1078. Hirschowitz BI. A fibre optic flexible oesophagoscope. Lancet 1963;2: 388-398. Reuben A. The way to a man’s heart is through his liver. HEPATOLOGY 2003;37:1500-1502. McIndoe AH. Vascular lesions of portal cirrhosis. Arch I’athol 1928;5:23- 40. Grannis FW. Guido Banti’s hypothesis and its impact on the understand- ing and treatment of portal hypertension. Maya Clin Proc 1975;50:41- 48. Terblanche J. Portal hypertension: a surgical hepatologist’s view of current management. J Gastrointest Surg 1997;1:4-12. Henderson JM. Surgical treatment of portal hypertension. Baillieres Best Pract Res Clin Gastroenterol2000;14:911-925. Orozco H, Mercado MA. The evolution of portal hypertension surgery: lessons from 1000 operations and 50 years’ experience. Arch Surg 2000; Wolff M, Hirner A. Current state of portosystemic shunt surgery. Lange- n b e c h Arch Surg 2003;388:141-149. Boerema I. Surgical therapy of bleeding varices of the esophagus during hepatic cirrhosis and Banti’s disease. Ned Tijdschr Geneeskd 1949;93: 4174-4182. Eck NV. K voprosu o perevyazkie varatnois veni: Predvaritelnoye soobsht- shjenye. Voen Med Zh (St. Petersburg) 1877;130: 1-2. Leibowitz HR, Rousselor LM, Whipple AO. Bleeding esophageal varices and portal hypertension. Springfield, IL: Charles C. Thomas; 1959. Sengstaken RW, Biakemore AH. Balloon tamponade for the control of hemorrhage from esophageal varices. Ann Surg 1950;131:781-789. Henderson JM. Surgical measures in rhe prevention of recurrent variceal bleeding. Gasrrointest Endosc Clin N Am 1999;2: 151--166. Petroski H . Chapter 2. Form follows failure. In: The evolution of useful things. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf Inc.; 1992. 135~1389-1393. HEPATOLOGY, Vol. 40, No. 4, 2004 REUBEN 1027 27. Rossle M, Haag K, Ochs A, Sellinger M, Noldge G, Perarnan J-M, et al. The transjugular intrahepatic portosystemic stent-shunt procedure for variceal bleeding. N Engl J Med 1994;330:165-171. 28. Colapinto RF, Stronell RD, Birch SJ, Langer B, Blendis LM, Greig PD, et al. Creation of an intrahepatic portosystemic shunt with a Griintzig bal- loon catheter. Can Med Assoc J 1982;126:267-268. 29. Palmaz JC, Sibbit RR, Reuter SR, Garcia F, Tio FO. Expandable intrahe- patic portacaval shunt stents; early experience in the dog. Am J Roentgenol 1985;145:821-825. 30. Rossle M , Richte GM, Noeldge G , Haag K, Wenz W, Gerok W , et al. Performance of an intrahepatic portacaval shunt (PCSA) using a catheter technique: a case report [abstract]. HEPATOLOGY 1988;8: 1348. 31. Rosde M, Richte GM, Noeldge G, Siegerstetter V, Palmaz JC, Wenz W. Der intrahepatische portosystemische shunt: erste klinische Erfarungen bei pati- enten mit Leberzirrhose. Dtsch Med Wochenschr 1989;114:1511-1516. 32. Rosch J, Hanafee WN, Snow H . Transjugular portal venography and tadiologic portacaval shunt: an experimental study. Radiology 1969;92: 11 12-1 114. 33. Crafoord C , Frenckner P. New surgical treatment of varicous veins of the oesophagus. Acra Otolaryngol (Stockh) 1939;27:422-429. 34. Lunderquist A, Vang J. Sclerosing injection of esophageal varices through transhepatic selective catheterization of the gastric coronary vein. A pre- liminary report. Acta Radio1 Diagn (Stockh) 1974;15:546-550. 35. Lunderquist A, Vang J. Transhepatic catheterization and obliteration of the coronary vein in patients with portal hypertension and esophageal varices. N Engl J Med 1974;291:646-649. 36. Mendez G Jr, Russell E. Gastrointestinal varices: percutaneous transhe- patic therapeutic embolization in 54 patients. Am J Roentgenol 1980; 1235: 1045-1050. 37. Terblanche J , Bornman PC, Jonker MAT, Kirsch RE, Saunders S. Injec- tion sclerotherapy of esophageal varices. Semin Liver Dis 1982;2:233-24 1. 38. de Franchis R, Primignani M. Endoscopic treatments for portal hyperten- sion. Semin Liver Dis 1999;19:439-455. 39. Sorbi D, Gostout CJ, Peura D, Johnson D, Lanza F, Foutch PG, et al. An assessment of the management of acute bleeding varices. A multicenter pro- spective member-based study. Am J Gastroenterol2003;98:2424-2435. 40. Soehendra N , Nam VC, Grimm H , Kempeneers I. Endoscopic oblitera- tion of large esophago-gastric varices with Bucrylate. Endoscopy 1986; 18: 25-26. 41. Jalan R, Hayes PC. UK guidelines on the management of variceal haem- orrhage in cirrhotic patients. Gut 2000;46 (Suppl 3-4): 1111- 11115. 42. Stiegmann GV, Sun JH, Hammond WS. Results of experimental esoph- ageal varix ligation. Am Surg 1988;54:105-108. 43. Van Stiegmann G, Goff JS. Endoscopic esophageal vein ligation: prelimi- nary clinical experience. Gastrointest Endosc 1988;34:113-117. 44. Crile G Jr. Transesophageal ligation of bleeding esophageal varices. Arch Surg 1950;6 1 :654- 660. 45. Linton RR, Warren R. The emergency treatment of massive bleeding from esophageal varices by transesophageal suture of these vessels at the time of acute hemorrhage. Surgery 1953;33:243-255. 46. Ottinger LW, Moncure AC. Transthoracic ligation of bleeding esophageal varices in patients with intrahepatic portal obstruction. Ann Surg 1974; 47. Stiegmann GV, Cambre T, Sun J. A new endoscopic elastic band ligating device. Gastrointest Endosc 1986;32:230-233. 48. Stiegmann GV, Goff JS, Michaletz-Ohody PA, Korula J, Lieberman D, Saeed ZA, et al. Endoscopic sclerotherapy as compared with endoscopic ligation for bleeding esophageal varices. N Engl J Med 1992;326:1527- 1532. 49. Laine L, Cook D. Endoscopic ligation compared with sclerotherapy for treatment of esophageal variceal bleeding: a meta-analysis. Ann Intern Med 1995;123:280-287. 50. Hoepffner N , Foerster E, Menzel J, Gillessen A, Domschke W . Severe complications arising from oesophageal varix ligation with the Stiegmann- Goff set. Endoscopy 1995;27:345. 51. Saeed ZA. The Saeed six-shooter: a prospective study of a new endoscopic multiple rubber band ligator for the treatment of varices. Endoscopy 1996; 28:559-564. 52. Grace ND. Diagnosis and treatment of gastrointestinal bleeding secondary to portal hypertension. Am J Gastroenterol 1997;921081-1091. 53. Sharara AI, Rockey DC. Gastrointestinal variceal hemorrhage. N Engl J Med 2001;345:669--681. 54. Nanivadekar SA, Satarkar RP, Dave UR, Sawant P, Chopda N. Use of indigenous and economical substitutes for variceal band ligation accesso- ries. Indian J Gastroenterol 1995;14:1-8. 55. Imperiale TF, Chalasani N. A meta-analysis of endoscopic variceal ligation for primary prophylaxis of esophageal variceal bleeding. HEPATOLOGY 2001;33:802-807. 56. Van Stiegmann G. Motion-prophylactic banding of esophageal varices is useful: arguments for the motion. Can J Gastroenterol. 2002;16:689- 692. 57. Kowdley KV. Motion-prophylactic banding of esophageal varices is use- ful: arguments against the motion. Can J Gastroenterol 2002; 16:693- 695. 58. Ladies of the First Unitarian Church of Cortland, California. Borrowings. San Francisco, CA: CA Murdock and Co., 1889:38. 59. Hope JA. A better mousetrap. Am Herit 1996: 90-97. 179:35-38. 
work_6jgmwefoancdtn2xusgrm6xlgq	----	Türk Kütüphaneciliği 29, 4 (2015), 707-717 Konuk Yazar /Guest Author Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler* * 6 Nisan 2011 tarihinde http://www.ulugbay.com/blog_hikmet?cat=10 adresinde yapılan paylaşımın ve Düşünbil dergisinin Kasım/ Aralık 2013 (38) sayısında yayımlanmış makalenin (http://www.dusunbil.com/eski-sayilar) gözden geçirilmiş ve genişletilmiş halidir. This is the revised and extended version of the sharing in following address http://www.ulugbay.com/blog_hikmet/7cOM10 on April 6, 2011 and the article published in Düşünbil Journal, November/December 2013 (38) issue (http://www.dusunbil.com/eski-sayilar). ** 55. Hükümet Milli Eğitim Bakanı, 56. Hükümet Devlet Bakanı ve Başbakan Yardımcısı, 57. Hükümet Devlet Bakanı. e-posta: hikmetulugbay@yahoo.com National Minister of Education of 55th Government, State Minister and Vice Prime Minister of 56th Government, State Minister of 57th Government. e-mail: h-ikmetulugbay@yahoo.com Geliş Tarihi — Received: 23.03.2015 Kabul Tarihi — Accepted: 25.11.2015 Thoughts on Book Banning Hikmet IHuğbay** Öz Milli Eğitim Eski Bakanlarından olan yazar kitap yasaklama konusunda Dünya ve Türkiye’den farklı tarih aralıklarında yaşanan örneklere yer vermektedir. Makalede kitap yasaklama konusunun dinler tarihinden itibaren dünya kamuoyunun gündeminde olduğu, değişik dönemlerde farklı konulardaki kitapların kamu güvenliği ve ahlakı başta olmak yasaklanageldiği vurgulanmaktadır. Yazar yasaklamaların aslında ağırlıklı olarak düşünce farklılığından kaynaklandığını, sorunun özünün düşünceyi ifade etme ve yayma özgürlüğü ihlali olduğuna işaret ederek özellikle yazar, yayıncı, gazeteci ve bilim adamı gibi düşünürlerin her dönem baskı altına alındığını belirtmektedir. Makalede kitap yasaklamanın demokrasi karşıtı bir eylem olduğu, geçmişten günümüze ünlü devlet adamı, bilim adamı, hukukçu ve edebiyatçılardan alınan özlü sözlerle de desteklenmektedir. Sorunun çözümüne giden yolda ABD’de uygulanmakta olan “yasaklanmış kitaplar haftası ” örneği uygulamaların Türkiye ’de de başlatılması önerilmekte düşünce özgürlüğü, basın özgürlüğü gibi demokrasinin temeli olan konularda hükümetlere önerilerde bulunulmaktadır. Anahtar Sözcükler: Kitap yasaklama; düşünce özgürlüğü; ifade özgürlüğü; bilgi edinme; yasaklanmış kitaplar haftası. Abstract This article, written by the author who used to be one of the former ministers of national education, includes some instances that took place in different date ranges in Turkey and different countries around the world about book censorship. It is emphasized in the article that censorship has been in public agenda since history of religions, some books with various subjects in different periods has been http://www.ulugbay.com/blog_hikmet/?cat=10 http://www.dusunbil.com/eski-sayilar http://www.ulugbay.com/blog_hikmet/?cat=10 http://www.dusunbil.com/eski-sayilar mailto:hikmetulugbay@yahoo.com mailto:hikmetulugbay@yahoo.com 708 Konuk Yazar / Guest Author Hikmet Uluğbay censored especially due to public safety and decency. The author states that philosophers particularly such as authors, publishers, journalists and scientists have been suppressed in each period by indicating that censorship is mainly derived from differences of ideas and the root of the problem is violation of freedom of thought and thought broadcast. The article supports the idea that book censorship is against democracy by citing quotations from famous statesmen, scientists, lawyers and litterateurs from past to present. Suggestions were made for governments about subjects such as freedom of thought and freedom of press which are the basis of democracy by referring to the “banned books week” as an example from the USA. It is suggested that such practices should be initiated in Turkey as well on the path towards the solution of the problem. Keywords: Banned books; intellectual freedom; freedom of thoughts; freedom of expression; access to information; banned books week. Giriş Kitap yasaklama hakkında internet ortamında Türkçe ve İngilizce olarak yaptığım aramalarda ilginç bir görüntü ile karşılaştım. İngilizce dilinde yaptığım aramada “tarihte yasaklanmış kitaplar” sorusu karşılığında 2,5 milyon başlığa rastlarken, aynı araştırmayı Türkçe dilinde “yasaklanan kitaplar listesi” anahtar sözcüğü ile denediğimde, neredeyse iki katı -4,6 milyondan fazla- başlıkla karşılaştım. Bu iki farklı sayı, bana göre, aslında önemli bir şeyin çok kaba bir göstergesiydi. Yasaklanan kitaplar konusu İngilizce arandığında Türkiye’ye göre daha az önemli bir konuma gerilemişti. Diğer bir aramayı “kitap yasaklama hakkında özlü sözler” olarak yaptığımda, İngilizce aramada 2,9 milyon başlıkla karşılaşırken, Türkçe sorgulamada sadece 89,400 başlığa rastladım. Bu da toplumların kitap yasaklamaya yönelik tepki verme boyutu ve duyarlılığı konusuna bir nebze ışık tutabilir. Ancak hemen şu uyarıda bulunmalıyım ki, bu sayılar, çok kaba bir görüntü verseler bile çok anlamlı değildirler. Zira, bildiğiniz üzere arama motorları, yazdığınız anahtar sözcüğü, sözcük olarak içeren tüm metinleri değil, sözcükleri tümüyle veya çoğunluğuyla her hangi bir metin içinde dağınık olarak bulunsalar bile sorunuzun yanıtı gibi listelerler. O nedenle de söz konusu sayılara fazlaca önem vermemek gerekir. Amerikan Kütüphane Derneği (ALA) diğer bazı derneklerle birlikte 1982 yılından bu yana her yıl Eylül ayının son haftasını Yasaklanmış Kitaplar Haftası (Banned Books Week) olarak ilan etmiştir. Bu inisiyatif 1982 yılında Birinci Anayasa Değişikliği ve Kütüphane Eylemcisi, aynı zamanda ALA Düşünce Özgürlüğü Ofisi Başkanı Judith Krug’un girişimleri ile kurulmuştur (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/JudithKrug ). İnisiyatifin kurulduğu yıl Anayasa Mahkemesi olarak da görev yapan ABD Yüksek Mahkemesi’nin (US Supreme Court) bir davada (Board of Education, Island Trees School District v. Pico 1982) verdiği kararda geçen şu cümle “ Yerel okul yönetimleri, içerdikleri fikirleri beğenmediği kitapları okul kütüphanesi raflarından kaldıramazlar” (Mullins, 2007) dikkat çekicidir. Bu kararın söz konusu inisiyatifin kuruluşu üzerinde etkisi olmuş mudur bilinmez ancak aynı yıl kutlanmaya başlayan hafta boyunca, okuma özgürlüğünü ve ABD Anayasası’na “inanç, düşünceyi ifade, basın ve toplanma özgürlüklerini kısıtlamaya yönelik olarak Yasama Organı tarafından yasa çıkarılamayacağı” na https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judith_Krug Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler Thoughts on Book Banning 709 ilişkin 1791 tarihinde eklenen hükmü ve bunun önemi üzerine etkinlikler yapılmaktadır. Bu etkinlikler çerçevesinde, bilgiye özgürce ve açık olarak erişimin yararları üzerinde durulurken, sansürün zararları ele alınmakta ve ABD’de güncel kitap yasaklama girişimlerine dikkat çekilmektedir. Bu bağlamda; ABD’de tartışılan diğer bir başlık da, 11 Eylül 2001 tarihinde ikiz kulelere ve diğer hedeflere saldırılardan sonra çıkarılan “Vatanseverlik Yasası” (The US PATRIOT Act:) çerçevesinde kitap, bilgiye erişim ve elektronik ortamda iletişim konularında başlayan elektronik ortam izlemelerine yönelik olarak giderek artan kaygılardır. Uluslararası Af Örgütü (Amnesty International) de “Yasaklanmış Kitaplar Haftası” nı kutlamakta ve bu bağlamda, yazdıkları, yaydıkları veya okudukları nedeni ile haksız uygulamalara konu olan kişiler hakkında dikkat çekmektedir. Bu örgüt, kitap yasaklama konusunda ülkeler bazında da bilgiler açıklamaktadır (Banned books week). Kitap Yasaklamanın Tarihsel Gelişimi Kitap yasaklama neredeyse yazılı tarih kadar eskidir. Antik çağ Yuı^^ı^i^^s^^ı^’ında Sokrates, yaptığı konuşmalarda dile getirdiği düşünceleri nedeni ile yargılanmış ve M.Ö. 399 yılında baldıran zehiri içerek yaşamına son verme cezasına çarptırılmıştır. İlk kitap yasaklamalarının Çin ve antik çağ Yunan’ında yer aldığı bilgisi ışığında o döneme kısaca göz atarsak Çin’den örnek olarak şu dikkat çekici bilgiyi görürüz. M.Ö. 259-210 döneminde Çin Hükümdarı olan Shih Huang Ti’nin yaktırdığı kitaplar arasında Konfiçyüs okulundan gelen düşünürlerin eserleri azımsanmayacak bir hacim oluşturmuştur. Günümüzde Shih Huang Ti’nin adı sadece bu eylemi ile hatırlanırken Konfiçyüs ve eserleri hemen her dile çevrilmiş ve çok okunanlar içinde hak ettiği yeri almıştır. Hıristiyanlığın ortaya çıkması ve yayılmaya başlaması ve daha sonra da Roma Devleti’nin resmi dini olması ile birlikte kitap ve açıklanan düşünceleri yasaklama uygulamasının yaygınlaştığı görülmektedir. Bu bağlamda mutlaka anılması gereken bir olay ise İskenderiye Kütüphanesinin aşama aşama yok edilişidir. İskender’in, M.Ö. 323 yılında ölümünden sonra parçalanan İmparatorluğumun Mısır bölgesi Ptolemeus Soter’in payına düşmüştü, Soter, İskender’in kurduğu ve ismini taşıyan kentte bayındırlık etkinliklerini sürdürdü ve bu kapsamda bir müze ve bir de kütüphane kurdu. Bu müze ve kütüphane izleyen yıllarda İskenderiye’yi çağının bilim ve araştırma merkezi haline getirdi ve sürekli bilim adamı ve filozof göçünü bu kente yönlendirdi. Bu da beraberinde kütüphanenin yeni ve çok değerli eserler kazanmasına yol açtı. Aynı dönemde dünyanın hızla gelişen diğer bir önemli kütüphanesi de Bergama Kütüphanesi idi. M.Ö. 40’lı yıllarda Marcus Antonius’un Bergama Kütüphanesindeki 200.000 tomar boyutundaki yazılı metinleri Mısır’a vermesi, Bergama Kütüphanesini çökertirken, İskenderiye Kütüphanesini daha da zenginleştirmiştir. Ancak Palmira Kraliçesi Septimia Zenobia M.S. 269 yılında Mısır’ı işgal ettiğinde, yağmalamalar sırasında İskenderiye Kütüphanesinin bir bölümü yanmış ve yok edilmiştir (Ronan, 2003, s. 136). Hristiyanlığın Mısır’ı da kapsaması ile birlikte İskenderiye Piskoposu Kiril döneminde M.S. 415 yılında İskenderiye’de yer alan ayaklanma Piskopos’un 710 Konuk Yazar / Guest Author Hikmet Uluğbay da desteklemesi ile paganlara, yahudilere ve hristiyanlığı farklı yorumlayan ve uygulayan novatianlara1 karşı kıyıma dönüşmüştü. Bu olaylar sırasında Kütüphane’nin Müdüresi değerli bir Matematikçi, Astronom ve Yeni-Eflatuneu akımın öncülerinden olmakla ün kazanan bilim kadını Hipatia da vahşi bir şekilde öldürüldü, vücudu parçalandı ve yakıldı. Bu olaylar sırasında İskenderiye Kütüphanesinin çok değerli koleksiyonları da geniş ölçüde yakılmıştır (Ronan, 2003, s. 136; Deakin, 2007, ss. 67-76). Bu katliam ve İskenderiye Kütüphanesinin yok edilmesi insanlık tarihinin en utanç yüklü sayfalarından birisi olmuş ve insanlık var oldukça da bu yok ediş nefretle anımsanmaya devam edilecektir. İskenderiye Kütüphanesinin yok edilişinin insanlığın gelişmesinde kaç yüzyıla mal olduğunu hesaplamak hiç de kolay değildir ancak ciddi bir maliyeti olduğu kesindir. Bu maliyet konusunda Fransız düşünür ve yazarı Michel de Montaigne’in (1533-1592) saptaması ilginçtir; “dinimizin yasalarla egemen olmaya başladığı ilk zamanlarda, inanç çabasının, bir kişiyi her çeşit pagan kitaplarına saldırttığı, bu yüzden aydın kişileri eşsiz hazinelerden yoksun bıraktığı su götürmez. Bence bu kargaşanın bilimlere ve sanata verdiği zarar, barbarların çıkardığı bütün yangınlardan daha büyük olmuştur” (Montaigne, 1999, s. 263). 1 Papalık tarihinde Papa’ya karşı muhalefet ederek üçüncü antipapa (antipope) unvanını alan ilahiyatçı Novatianus (M.S. 200-258) tarafından kurulan dini akım. Ayrıntılı bilgi için bkz. http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Antipope 2 Yahudi medeni kanunu, tören kuralları ve efsanelerini kapsayan dini metinler. Ayrıntılı bilgi için bkz. https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talmud İngiliz John Wycliff (1329-1383) dünyada yaşamın yüzbinlerce yıl önce başladığını ileri sürmenin ötesinde İncil’i İngilizce’ye çevirmiş olması nedeni ile Kilise tarafından sapkın ilan edilmiştir (Özakıncı, 2000, s. 216). Kilise, daha önceleri de kitap yasaklayıp yok etti ise de, kitap yasaklamanın sistemli kayıtları 1559 yılında Papa Paul IV döneminde tutulmaya başlanarak okunamayacak kitaplar listesi düzenli bir şekilde yayınlanmaya başlandı (Mullins, 2007). İzleyen yıllarda Kilise’nin yasakladığı kitaplar listesi katlanarak büyüdü. Bu konudaki liste, “Engizisyon’un Roma Bürosunun Yasakladığı Kitaplar 1559” başlığını taşımaktadır. Papa Paul IV uygulamasından cesaret alan Fransız Kralı IX Charles izninin olmadığı hiçbir kitabın yayınlanamayacağını ilan etmiştir. 1535 yılında bu kez William Tyndale İncil’i İngilizce’ye çevirip 6.000 adet bastırmış ve İngiltere’ye kaçırmış ancak Kilise, İncil’in sadece Latince basılıp okunabileceği gerekçesi ile İngilizce versiyonu yasaklamıştır. Kilise, Martin Luther’in (1483-1546) Almanca’ya çevirdiği İnciii de yasaklamıştır. Kilise’nin yasakladığı İncil çevirileri bunlarla da sınırlı kalmamıştır. İncil’in Fransızca, İspanyolca, İtalyanca ve diğer dillere çevrilmiş metinleri de yasaklar listesinde yer almıştı. Doğal olarak yasak listesinde Talmut2, Tevrat ve Kur’an da vardı. Kilise’nin yasakladığı İncil, Hz. İsa tarafından Aramice dilinde açıklanmıştı. Çünkü Hz. İsa’nın yaşadığı dönemde o topraklarda iletişimin temel aracı Aramice idi. İncil’in ilk yazılı metni Yunanca’dır ve diğer dillere de çevrilmiştir. Latince’ye Jerome tarafından çevrilişi ise 382-405 arasında gerçekleşmiştir. Bu tarihten önce Latince’ye çevrilmiş olan İncil metinleri de vardır. İlginç olan, Kilise’nin, halka Aramice dilinde anlatılmış ve yazıya ilk defa Yunanca dökülmüş ve sonra Latince de dahil bir çok dile çevrilmiş olan İncil’in daha sonraki tarihlerde Latince dışı dillere çevrilmesini yasaklar duruma gelmesidir. http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Antipope https://tr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Talmud Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler Thoughts on Book Banning 711 Doğal olarak ilerleyen yıllarda ana dilinde inancını yaşamak isteyenler tarafından İncil bütün dillere çevrilmiştir. Bu döneme yönelik olarak unutulmaması gereken diğer iki önemli bilgiden, ilki, Giardano Bruno’nun papazlık eğitimi almış olmasına rağmen, daha sonra papazlığı bırakıp felsefi ve hermetik konuların yanında matematik ve astronomi ile ilgili çalışmalar yapan bir Rönesans dönemi düşünür ve yazarı olmasıdır. Bruno, Kopernikçi evren modelini savunmuş, güneşin evrendeki birçok güneşten birisi olduğunu ve evrende yaşam olan başka dünyalar da olduğunu ileri sürmüş ve görüşleri Kilise’ye ters düştüğü için Engizisyon tarafın yargılanıp yakılmasına karar verilmesi sonucu 1600 yılında yakılmıştır (Boulting, 2010). İkincisi ise Galileo’dur. Galileo Galilei (1564-1642) güneş sistemine yönelik çalışmaları ve Kopernik’çi düşünce izleyicisi olması nedeni ile yargılanarak 70 yaşında iken hapse konulmuş ve 1642 yılında 78 yaşında iken hapiste yaşamı son bulmuştur. Galileo’nun Engizisyon’daki yargılanması sırasında, ileri sürdüğü görüşlerinden vazgeçtikten sonra, “E pur si mouve: fakat o (dünya) dönüyor” diye fısıldadığı söylenir. Galileo’nun diğer önemli bir söylemi de şudur; “Felsefe bu büyük kitapta -evreni kasdediyorum- yazılıdır ve bu kitap bakışlarımıza sürekli açık durmakta, ancak önce onun yazıldığı harflerin özelliklerini ve dilini öğrenmeden onu anlayabilmek mümkün değildir. O kitabın yazıldığı dil matematiktir ve yazılımda kullanılan harfler üçgenler, daireler ve diğer geometrik şekillerdir, bunları öğrenip anlamadan kitaptaki tek bir sözcüğü bile kavrayabilmeye insan yetenekleri elvermez ve bu bilgiler olmaksızın insan karanlık bir labirentin içinde dolanır durur” (Barlett ve Kaplan, 1992, s. 161). Bu örneklerin dışında engizisyonun tüyler ürperten diğer uygulamaları da vardır, örneğin sapkınların yakılması için 1401 yılında karar alması ve cadı avları gibi. Ancak konumuz kitap yasaklamaları olduğu için o konulara girilmeyecektir. Yukarıda da değinildiği üzere, izleyen yüzyıllarda da Kilise’nin ve Devletlerin kitap yasaklamaları ve hatta yakmalarının sayısız örnekleri vardır. Batı’da Hitler Almanya’sı, Mussolini İtalya’sı ve Franco İspanya’sında kitap yasaklama ve yakma eylemlerinin çok artığı görülmüştür. Özellikle Nazi Almanya’sında yer alan toplu kitap yakmaya ilişkin “10 Mayıs 1933 günü Berlin Üniversitesinin önünde, ortaçağlardan beri görünmeyen bir olay oldu. Naziler, eserleri Nazi ideolojisiyle bağdaşmayan yüzlerce yazarın kitabını, Nazi marşları söyleyerek törensel bir eylemle yaktılar. Eylemler, 34 üniversite kentinde de benzeri biçimde gerçekleştirildi. En az 30 bin değişik adlı milyonlarca kitap yakıldı” (Gündüz, 2011, s. 2) ifadeler tarihe tanıklık anlamındadır. Önce kitapları yakan, sonra dünyayı ateşe veren, ülkesindeki ve işgal ettiği topraklardaki Yahudi’lere kıyım uygulayan Hitler’in ve peşinden gidenlerin sonu da kötü olmuştur. Batı’da son zamanlara değin yasaklanan kitaplardan birkaç örnek vermek gerekirse George OrweH’in 1984 isimli kitabı, çocuk romanlarından Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, yetişkinlere yönelik Dr. Zhivago, Madam Bovary, Fareler ve İnsanlar ve kitap yakma konusunu işleyen roman Fahrenheit 451, Arap Geceleri ve daha yüzlercesi ve belki binlercesi akla gelebilir. 712 Konuk Yazar / Guest Author Hikmet Uluğbay Bu bağlamda Charles Darvin'in Türlerin Kökeni isimli kitabı birçok ülke tarafından yasaklandı ise de sonraları yasaklar kalkmıştır. Bir dönemde ABD de de evrim teorisinin öğretilmesi de yasaklanmıştı. Ancak bu noktada bir hususun altını çizmek gerekir ki, batı dünyasında aydınlar, Kilise’nin ve otokrat devlet yönetimlerinin bu baskılarına karşı giderek daha güçlü şekilde mücadele ederek bilimin yükselişini ve toplumsal aydınlığı sağlayabilmiştir. İşin ilginci ve unutulmaması gereken boyutu, bu mücadelede, kilise okullarında eğitim almış, ona rağmen bilime ve bilimsel araştırmaya ve felsefeye önem vermiş insanların önde yer almış olmalarıdır. Bu mücadele sonucunda, toplumların otokrat yönetimler altına düştükleri dönemler hariç, yakılan ve yasaklanan kitaplarda da çok önemli azalma sağlanabilmiştir. Batı’ya ilişkin bu özet değerlendirmeleri tamamlamadan önce bir hususun altını hemen çizmek gerekir ki, bu ülkelerde uzun süredir kitap yasaklamaları son derece azalmış ve fikirleri nedeni ile yazarların hapsedilmesi de yok denecek düzeye inmiş, düşünceleri ve yazdıkları için yazarların öldürüldüğü dönemler ise tarihin çok gerideki sayfalarında kalmıştır. Batı dünyasındaki özet bilgilerden sonra Orta Doğu tarihine de göz atacak olursak, Hallac-ı Mansur’un “ben tanrıyım” anlamında “ene-l-hakk” veya “ben hakk’ım” dediği için 922 yılında Bağdat’ta vücudunun parçalanıp, asılması ve sonrasında yakılması olayını görürüz (Lerch, 2000). Daha sonra İmam Gazali’nin İslam’da içtihat kapısını kapaması ile İslam konusunda birçok kitap yazılamaz hale gelmiştir. İmam Gazali’nin önceleri bilim ve usu ön plana çıkaran çalışmalar yaptıktan sonra, usçuluğa yönelik eleştirilerinin İslam’da bilimsel gelişmeyi nasıl olumsuz yönde etkilediğine ilişkin ayrıntılı bilgi Özakıncı’nın (2000) İslamda Bilimin Yükselişi ve Çöküşü 827-1107 isimli kitabında bulunmaktadır. Kur’an’ın, ulusların kendi dillerine çevrilmesi konusunda ülke yöneticileri tarafından çok uzun süre engeller konulmuştur ve bu engellerin İslam coğrafyasında tümüyle kalktığını söylemek de zordur. Bu konuda ülkemiz tarihi açısından çok kapsamlı bir inceleme, Özakıncı’nın (2013) Dünden Bugüne Türklerde Dil ve Din başlıklı kitabında yer almaktadır. Osmanlı Devleti döneminde de kitap ve yazı yasaklama/ sansürleme yer almış ve özellikle son yüzyıllarda çok artmıştı. Bu bağlamda Sultan Abdülhamit II dönemi sansür tarihimizde özel bir yer edinmiştir. Ancak, Osmanlı döneminde birçok konuda olduğu gibi kitap yasaklama konusu da ayrıntılı olarak incelenmediğinden kitap yasaklarına yer veren Osmanlı ’da Yasaklar (Taylan, 2014) isimli kitabın incelenmesinde yarar bulunmaktadır. Cumhuriyet döneminde de kitap yasaklamaları devam etmiştir. Başta Nazım Hikmet Ran olmak üzere birçok yazarın kitapları yasaklanmıştır. Aynı şekilde bazı yabancı kitapların yurda getirilmesi ve çevrilmesi de yasaklanmıştır. Cumhuriyet döneminde yasaklanan kitaplar ve listelerine ulaşmak için Kabacalı (1990) önerilebilir. Düşündükleri, savundukları ve yazdıkları görüşler nedeni ile öldürülen birçok değerli insanımız vardır. Son dönemlerde öldürülen gazetecilerden şu isimleri hemen herkes anımsar, Abdi İpekçi, Uğur Mumcu, Çetin Emeç, Metin Göktepe, Oral Kutlar, Turan Dursun, Ahmet Taner Kışlalı, Hrant Dink ve isimlerini sayamadığımız daha niceleri. Bu kadar fazla gazetecinin Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler Thoughts on Book Banning 713 öldürülmesi üzerinde toplum olarak çok ciddi şekilde düşünmemiz, bunun nedenlerini sorgulamamız ve bu tür olayların yeniden yaşanmaması için düşünce ve çözüm üretmemiz gerektirmektedir. Diğer taraftan, ülkemizin birçok değerli bilim adamı da savundukları fikirler nedeni ile öldürülmüşlerdir. Bunlardan bazıları hemen herkesin hafızasındadır; Doç Dr. Bahriye Üçok, Prof. Dr. Muammer Aksoy, Doç. Dr. Necip Hablemitoğlu, yine kederle ve utançla anımsayacağımız üzere 2 Temmuz 1993 günü Sivas’ın Madımak Oteli’nde 37 insanımız farklı düşündükleri için yakılmışlardır. Toplum olarak, düşünceyi ifade özgürlüğü bakımından pek de parlak olmayan bu geçmişin üzerini örtmeyip ciddi biçimde sorgulamalıyız. Demokrasi ve hukuk toplumu olmanın olmazsa olmazı bu sorgulamayı yapıp gereken dersleri çıkarmak ve düşünceyi ifade özgürlüğünü ve farklı düşünceleri yazıp savunabilme özgürlüğünü güven altına almak zorundayız. Bu görevimizi yerine getirmeyi ne kadar geciktirirsek uygar dünya tarafından dışlanmaya ve yargı kararlarımızın Avrupa İnsan Hakları Mahkemesinde (AİHM) sorgulanmasına ve ülkemizin hepimizin ödediği vergilerle karşılanacak tazminatlara mahkûm edilmesine seyirci kalmaya devam ederiz. Bildiğimiz kadarı ile ülkemiz AİHM’de en fazla tazminat ödemesine karar verilen ülkeler listesinin ilk sıralarında yer almaktadır. Konu kitap yasaklama olduğu için uzun süredir tutuklu olarak yargılanmakta olan ve ülkeye değerli hizmetler yapmış diğer düşün insanlarımıza ilişkin bir değerlendirmeye girmeden geçmişte kitap yasaklayan ve hatta kitap yakan toplumların devlet ve düşün adamlarının kitap yasaklamaları üzerinde açıkladıkları düşüncelerden küçük bir demet sunmak konumuz açısından bütünleyici olacaktır. Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Seçilmiş Özlü Sözler • Antik Çağ Yunan trajik şairi, Euripides (M.Ö. 485-406); “Bir kimsenin düşüncelerini konuşamaması esarettir. ” • Doktor yemininin yazarı ve tıbbın en önemli ismi Hippocrates (M.Ö. 460-377): ‘“Gerçekte iki şey vardır, bilim ve kanaat, bunlardan ilki bilgi sahibi olmayı sağlarken ikincisi cehaletin yolunu açar” (Barlett ve Kaplan, 1992, s. 71). • İncil’i Almanca’ya çeviren Martin Luther (1483-1530) 1520 yılında Alman Devletleri Hristiyan Asillerine hitaben yazdığı bir metinde şu ifadeye yer vermiştir; ‘“Eğer sapkınlığı ateşle tedavi etmek bir sanat idiyse, bu uygulamayı yapmış cellatlarımız dünyanın en eğitimli doktorları olurdu” (Barlett ve Kaplan, 1992, s. 138). • İngiliz şair John Milton (1608-1674); ‘“Bir kitabı yok etmek bir insanı öldürmekle eşdeğerdir: bir insanı öldüren akıllı bir yaratığı Tanrı’nın yansımasını öldürmüş olur, bir kitabı yok eden ise aklın kendisini öldürmüş olur ” (Ehrlich, De Bruhl, 1996, ss. 63-64). • Amerikan devlet adamı Benjamin Franklin (1706-1790) 1759 yılında Historical Review of Pennsylvania dergisinde yazdığı bir yazıda, şu gözlemde bulunmuştur; 714 Konuk Yazar / Guest Author Hikmet Uluğbay ‘“Geçici bir rahatlık edinebilmek için temel haklarından vazgeçenler ne özgürlüğü ne de güvenliği hak ederler. ” • Alman şair, yazar, gazeteci, edebiyat eleştirmeni Heinrich Heine (1797-1856) 1821-1822 yıllarında yazdığı Almansor isimli trajedide bir kahin gibi şu görüşü açıklamıştır; ‘“Kitapların yakıldığı yerlerde, eninde sonunda insanları da yakarlar ”. • Oscar Wilde (1854-1900) 1891 yılında şu gözlemde bulunmuştur; ‘“Dünyanın ahlaka aykırı olarak tanımladığı kitaplar, dünyaya kendi utancını gösteren kitaplardır ”. • George Bernard Shaw (1856-1950); ‘“Adam öldürtmek, sansürün en uçtaki uygulamasıdır”. George Bernard Shaw sansür için ilginç bir gözlemde de bulunmuştur; ‘“Sansür, mantıksal olarak, insanların kimsenin okumadığı kitaplardan başka hiçbir kitabı okuyamadıkları noktada amacına ulaşmış olur”. • Psikoloji tarihinin en önemli isimlerinden birisi olan Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) 1933 yılında, Almanya’da yaygın olarak kitapların yakılmaya başladığı dönemde şu uyarıcı iğnelemede bulunmuştur; ‘“Ne gelişme gösterdik! Ortaçağlarda olsaydık beni yakardı. Şimdiyse kitaplarımı yakmakla tatmin oluyorlar”. • ABD Başkanı Harry S. Truman (1884-1972) 8 Ağustos 1950 günü Kongre’de yaptığı konuşmada şu hususa değinmiştir; ‘“Bir kez bir hükümet muhalefetin sesini kısma kararını alırsa, artık onun ilerleyebileceği tek yön kalmıştır, bu baskıcı uygulamaları kendi vatandaşları için bir terör kaynağı oluncaya kadar arttırmaya devam etmektir, bu noktada da ülke herkesin korku içinde yaşadığı bir yer konumuna gelmiştir”. • ABD Başkanlarından Dwight D. Eisenhower (1890-1969) 14 Haziran 1953 günü Dartmouth Koleji’nde yaptığı konuşmada şu hususun altını çizmiştir; ‘“Kitap yakanlardan olmayınız. Var olagelen gerçeklerin üstünü örterek düşünceleri engelleyeceğinizi de düşünmeyiniz”. • İngiliz devlet adamı Sir Winston Churchill (1874-1965); ‘“Herkes konuşma özgürlüğünü savunmaktadır. Bu fikir söylenmeden bir gün bile geçmez, ancak bazıları bu özgürlüğü kendilerinin istedikleri gibi konuşabileceği şeklinde anlar, fakat söylediklerine karşı birileri bir şey söylerse buna hiddetle tepki verir ”. • Amerika’nın Sesi Radyosu’nun 20 inci kuruluş yıldönümü olan 26 Şubat 1962 tarihinde ABD Başkanı John F. Kennedy (1917-1963) şu hususu da belirtmiştir; ‘“Biz, Amerikan halkına, tatsız gerçekleri, yabancı düşünceleri, karşıt felsefeleri ve rakip değerleri sunmaktan korkmayız. Özgür bir ortamda halkının gerçek ve yanlış hakkında karar vermesinden korkan bir ulus aslında kendi halkından korkmaktadır ”. • İsrail Başbakanlarından David Ben-Gurion (1886-1973); ‘“Demokrasinin varlığını kanıtlayan eleştirme özgürlüğüdür. • Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882); ‘“Heryakılan kitap dünyayı aydınlatır”. • İsrail eski başbakanlarından Golde Meir (1898-1978); ‘“Hiç kimse, şimdi hoşuna gitmiyor diye geçmişi silmeye teşebbüs etmemeli ve silmemelidir”. Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler Thoughts on Book Banning 715 • ABD Yüksek Mahkeme Hâkimi Potter Stewart, Ginzberg’e (1915-1985) ABD 383 U.S. 463 (1966) kararına karşı yazdığı karşı oy yazısında şu hususu özenle vurgulamıştır; ‘“Sansüre başvurmak, o toplumun özgüven noksanının göstergesidir. Bu durum aynı zamanda otoriter rejimin ayırdedici özelliğidir Bu alıntıları Atatürk’ün basın özgürlüğü hakkındaki söylemi ile sonlandıralım; ‘“Basın özgürlüğünden doğacak zararların ortadan kaldırılması yine basın özgürlüğü tarafından sağlanır” Afetinan, 1968). Bu özlü söz örnekleri kitap yasaklama, kitap yakma, düşünceleri nedeni ile insanları yok etme konusunda toplumlarının yaşadıkları acı deneyimlerden gerekli dersleri çıkarmış düşünür ve devlet adamlarının gözlemlerini ve uyarılarını yansıtmaktadır; Bu söylemlerden özellikle ABD Yüksek Mahkeme Hâkimi Potter Stewart’ın yukarıda alıntılanan sözünün ilk bölümü olan, ‘“sansüre başvurmak, o toplumun özgüven noksanının göstergesidir ” söylemi büyük bir gerçeğin ifadesidir. Yurt içinde yayınlanmış veya yurt dışından getirilmesi yasaklanmış kitaplar yüzünden ülkemiz çok ciddi bedeller ödemiş ve ülkemizin düşünen insanlarına da büyük haksızlıklar yapılmıştır. Bu konudaki ilk örnek, İngiliz ajanı T. E. Lawrence’ın I. Dünya Savaşı sırasında Araplar arasındaki çalışmalarını kapsayan Seven Pillars of Wisdom3 isimli kitabıdır? Bu kitabın ülkeye girişinin ve çevirisinin uzun süre yasaklanmasından zarar gören de sadece Türkiye olmuştur. Oysa I. Dünya Savaşına ilişkin tarihimiz T. E. Lawrence, Gertrude Bell, Mark Sykes, W. H. I. Shakespeare, Binbaşı Noel ve diğerlerinin Güneydoğu’da ve Arap topraklarında şeyhlerle kurduğu ilişkiler bilinmeden tam ve doğru olarak yazılamaz. İçeride ve dışarıda yazılan kitaplarda (ve hatta sinema filmlerinde) ülkemiz için kabul edilemeyecek, haksız ve yanlış birçok suçlamalar da dile getirilmiş olabilir? Bu türden bile olsa eserleri yasaklamak, dolaylı olarak yazılanlara hak vermek izlenimi yaratır. Çünkü o kitaplarda yer alan görüşlerin yanlışlığını kanıtlayan belge ve bilgiler bir veya birkaç kitap, makale ile hem kendi insanımızın hem de dünya kamuoyunun önüne bilim insanlarımız ve araştırmacı yazarlarımız tarafından sunulmamış olmaktadır. Ayrıca kitle iletişim araçlarının bu denli yaygınlaştığı ve dünyayı gezmenin adeta yurt içi gezisi konumuna geldiği bir ortamda ülkemiz hakkındaki eleştiriler ve bunlara yönelik kendi düşünür ve uzmanlarımızın araştırma ve görüşleri konusunda bilgisi olmayan yurttaşlarımız yabancılar karşısında, bu tür konular gündeme geldiğinde kendilerini ve ülkelerini savunamaz duruma düşmektedirler. Ermeni ve Kürt sorunları konusunda ülkemizde yayınların hemen hemen hiç düzeyinde olduğu dönemlerde, yurt dışında öğrenim gören öğrenciler bu konuda yabancılar konuyu açtıklarında ve bazı görüşler ileri sürdüklerinde birkaç hamasi cümlenin ötesinde karşılarındakileri düşünmeye sevk edecek görüş dahi söyleyemez durumda kalmışlardır. Başta Kıbrıs, Kürt, Süryani, azınlık hakları gibi birçok konuda toplum ve bireyler yıllarca bilgilendirilmedikleri için yurt dışında zorlanmışlardır. Ayrıca bu bilgisizlik toplumsal barışa da katkıda bulunmamıştır. Daha sonra bu konuda eserler yayınlanmaya başladığı gibi, konuya ilişkin yabancı yayınlar da toplumun bilgisine sunulmaya başlanmıştır, 3 Lawrence, T. E. (1922). Seven pillars of wisdom. A triumph. The complete. (3. Cilt). Farington, UK: Thornton’s Bookshop. 716 Konuk Yazar / Guest Author Hikmet Uluğbay ancak çok değerli ve uzun bir süre kaybedilmiştir. İçeride ve dışarıda yayınlanmış kitapların yasaklanması, başta üniversiteler olmak üzere Türkiye’nin düşünce üreten insanlarına yapılmış çok büyük haksızlık olmaktadır. Zira yasaklama bir bakıma “ülkemizde bu yazılanların doğrusunu ve aksini bilimsel etik içerisinde savunacak insanımız yoktur” mesajı da içermektedir. O nedenle yurt içinde yazılmış kitapları yasaklama, dışarıda yayınlanmış kitapların ülkeye getirilmesi ve çevirilerine karşı yasak konulmasına da en büyük tepkiyi üniversiteler ve düşün insanlarımız vermeli ve bilimsel yetenek ve birikimlerine haksızlık yapılmasına demokratik tepki göstermelidir. Ulusumuzun yetiştirdiği çok değerli şair., yazar ve politik eleştirmenlerden biri olan Namık Kemal (1840-1888) Hürriyet Kasidesi’nin bir beyitinde görüş ayrılıklarının ülkeye yararı konusunda şu gözlemde bulunur. “Durur ahkâmı nusret ittihadı kalbi millette/ Çıkar âsârı rahmet ihtilafı reyi ümmetten”. Osmanlıca bu metnin günümüz Türkçesi ile anlamı şöyledir; “Başarma gücü, milletin gönül birliğindedir/ Nitelikli ve yararlı ürünler toplumdaki farklı görüşlerin çatışmasından ortaya çıkar”. Namık Kemal, ulusun farklı görüşlerden yararlı yeni sentezler üretme yeteneğine güvenini yaklaşık bir buçuk yüzyıl önce dile getirmiş olmasına rağmen, yıllardır ve günümüzde ulusun bu yeteneğini yadsıma yaklaşım ve tutumu anlaşılır gibi değildir. Siyasi partiler, sürekli olarak yeni bir anayasa yapmaktan veya anayasada kapsamlı değişiklik yapmaktan bahsediyorlar. Gerçekten samimi iseler Türkiye’de hiçbir kitabın yayınına ve çevirisine ve düşüncenin açıklanmasına yasak konulamayacağına ve tutuklu yargılamanın süresinin birkaç haftayı geçemeyeceğine ilişkin birer maddeyi de önerilerinin içine eklemelidirler. Eğer çok büyük zorunluluk olduğuna inanıyorlarsa ve Avrupa Birliği ülkelerinde yer alan sürelere uygun da düşüyorsa sınırlı birkaç suç türü için (bu suçlar isim isim sayılarak) tutukluluk halinin ne kadar uzatılabileceğini de istisnalar kapsamında tek tek belirtmelidirler. Tarih, kitap yasaklamanın kısa süre dışında hiçbir etki yaratamadığının örnekleri ile doludur. Ahmet Şık’ın yasaklanan İmamın Ordusu isimli kitabının, yasak kararından kısa süre sonra, internet ortamında yayınlanması ve aynı gün 100.000’lerin erişimine ulaşmasından herkesin alacağı dersler bulunmaktadır. Ülkemizdeki basın yayın kuruluşlarını, yayınevlerini, yazarları, kütüphanecileri ve bunlara ait dernekleri her yıl Mart ayının son haftasında kutlanmakta olan Kütüphane Haftasını “Kitap Yasaklamalarını Anma Haftası” olarak da organize etmelerini düşünmeye davet ediyorum. Kaynakça Afetinan, A. (1968). Medeni Bilgiler ve M. Kemal Atatürk’ün el yazmaları. Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu. Banned books week. 24 Kasım 2015 tarihinde http://www.bannedbooksweek.org/ adresinden erişildi. Bartlett, J. ve J. Kaplan. (1992). Bartlett’s familiar quotations. (16. bs.). Boston: Little Brown and Company. http://www.bannedbooksweek.org/ Kitap Yasaklama Üzerine Düşünceler Thoughts on Book Banning 717 Board of Education, Island Trees School District v. Pico 1982. (2015). 17 Kasım 2015 tarihinde https://www.law<ome’l.ediL/supremecourt/text/457/853 adresinden erişildi. Boulting W. (2010). Giardano Bruno: His life, thought, and martyrdom. USA: BiblioLife. Ehrlich, E. ve M. De Bruhl. (1996). The international thesaurus of quotations. New York: HarperPerennial. Gündüz. A. (2011). Kitap yakmak üzerine ... Cumhuriyet Gazetesi. 1 Nisan 2011. Kabacalı, A. (1990). Başlangıçtan günümüze Türkiye’de basın sansürü. İstanbul: Gazeteciler Cemiyeti. Lerch, W. G. (2000). Bağdat’ta ölüm Hallac-ı Mansur. Ankara: Yurt. Michael A. B. D. (2007). Hypatia of Alexandria-mathematician and martyr. New York: Prometheus Books. Montaigne (1999). Denemeler. 30. bs. (S. Eyüpoğlu, Çev.). İstanbul: Cem. Mullins, K. J. (2007). Some history on book burning. Digital Journal. May 15, 2007. 13 Kasım 2015 tarihinde http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/182074 adresinden erişildi. Özakıncı, C. (2013). Dünden bugüne Türklerde dil ve din/ Kur’anı doğru anlamak. İstanbul: Otopsi. Özakıncı, C. (2000). İslamda bilimin yükselişi ve çöküşü 827-1107. İstanbul: Otopsi. Ronan, C. A. (2003). Bilim tarihi: Dünya kültürlerinde bilimin tarihi ve gelişmesi. (4. bs.). (E. İhsanoğlu ve F. Günergun, Çev.). Ankara: TÜBİTAK. Taylan, N. (2014). Osmanlı’dayasaklar. İstanbul: Ekim. The USA PATRIOT Act: Preserving Life and Liberty.. 15 Kasım 2015 tarihinde http://www. justice.gov/archive/ll/highlights.htm adresinden erişildi. Vetus Latina. 25 Kasım 2015 tarihinde https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vetus_Latina adresinden erişildi. https://www.law.cornell.edu/supremecourt/text/457/853 http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/182074 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vetus_Latina 
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work_6uaowkl6irc5hib6j43j6ws5fq	----	Title Are the Homeless Taboo? – A Theoretical Perspective Author Adam Clay Publication FORUM: University of Edinburgh Postgraduate Journal of Culture & the Arts Issue Number 24 Issue Date Spring 2017 Publication Date 29/05/2017 Editors Anahit Behrooz and Vicki Madden FORUM claims non-exclusive rights to reproduce this article electronically (in full or in part) and to publish this work in any such media current or later developed. The author retains all rights, including the right to be identified as the author wherever and whenever this article is published, and the right to use all or part of the article and abstracts, with or without revision or modification in compilations or other publications. Any latter publication shall recognise FORUM as the original publisher. University of Edinburgh Postgraduate Journal of Culture and the Arts Issue 24 | Spring 2017 FORUM | ISSUE 24 1 Are the Homeless Taboo? – A Theoretical Perspective Adam Clay University of Edinburgh Discussing works by Patrick Declerck, Ghassan Hage, and Giorgio Agamben, this paper asks whether society sets the homeless apart and treats them the way it does not by accident, but deliberately, because they serve, as outcasts, a particular function. This article does not attempt to analyse a given local or national situation; it is, instead, a thought experiment which develops a hypothesis by drawing on ideas put forward by authors such as Michel Foucault, Claude Lévi- Strauss and Achille Mbembe. It posits that the homeless are the result of an unacknowledged yet structural discriminating process whereby society deprives some people from their humanity in order to define itself, its members and its values. This paper begins with a naïve question: why does society seem to ignore homeless people? This question, however simple, is not easy to answer, as it is related to many other ones. Could it be that society does not really want to help the homeless? Can this be interpreted as evidence that they are taboo? According to the Oxford English Dictionary, “taboo” means “set apart for or consecrated to a special use or purpose” and can be “said of persons under a perpetual or temporary prohibition from certain actions, from food, or from contact with others.” Could it be that the homeless are outcasts who assume, as such, a role in society? Is their situation a necessary consequence of the way in which society functions, and are they taboo because, if they were not, this functioning would be disrupted or jeopardised? In order to attempt answering such questions, this article will discuss the ways contemporary capitalist societies see the homeless and behave towards them. In doing so, it will also attempt to shed some light on society’s inner workings and values, but the reader should bear in mind that this article is written from a purely theoretical perspective. That is to say, sweeping generalisations and abstract suggestions will be made about the homeless and society, but these are deliberate. Indeed, the aim of this paper is not to provide data, facts, and concrete examples, nor does it try to disclose ‘the truth’ about the relationships between the homeless and society. Rather, its purpose is to provoke thought, and to invite readers to decide whether—or to what extent—this theoretical perspective applies to the homeless and to the society with which they are most familiar. This does not mean, however, that this paper is univocal: it will draw on Patrick Declerck’s article “On the Necessary Suffering of the Homeless,” and on texts by Giorgio Agamben and Ghassan Hage. In order to fuel this discussion, attention will also be drawn to works by Michel Foucault, Claude Lévi-Strauss, and Achille Mbembe, whose insights on the ways societies function will prove helpful when attempting to answer the question: are the homeless taboo? Patrick Declerck, who has studied homelessness over many years, provides a useful starting point for this exploration. Indeed, he asks a question similar to the very first one above: “homeless people are by and large harassed, abandoned, and condemned to horrific suffering. How do we allow this to happen?” (162-3). His answer to this question is straightforward: FORUM | ISSUE 24 2 Because we hate them. We hate them because they refuse to work and because they seem to mock everything we hold dear: hope, self-betterment, personal relationships, procreation, bringing up children, and even simply getting up in the morning. They are dirty, smelly, incontinent, and unsociable, and as such they are a living insult to our aspirations and narcissism. (163) The homeless Declerck describes can be considered taboo in that the rest of society is said to behave towards them as if they had crossed an unspoken threshold, setting them apart and prohibiting them from functioning and interacting in the ways in which the rest of society does. Homeless people are not universally “dirty, smelly, incontinent, and unsociable,” but Declerck’s argument is that, if or when they are perceived as such, they constitute a useful counter-example for society. Their suffering is a “necessary” form of punishment, as the title of his article suggests. Insofar as they represent social failure, the homeless function as reminders of what society’s constituents should not do unless they wish to be condemned to suffer in a similar way. One of the salient characteristics emerging from Declerk’s depiction of the homeless is, for instance, that they are perceived as lazy. If refusing both work “and even simply getting up in the morning” is one of the key reasons why homeless people are hated by society, then the opposite of laziness, namely, being active and working, is what society values and rewards. The fact that the saying ‘the early bird gets the worm’ is so commonly used illustrates what Declerck points towards. What he makes clear, however, is that homeless people are not only poor, but that they are also hated for not being early birds. That is to say, the worm that homeless people fail to get from society is not only material wealth—which is what tends to be most commonly associated with that saying—but also recognition and consideration, as Declerck argues, on the grounds that they are lazy. “Recognition” and “consideration” are also terms Pierre Bourdieu uses in order to explain that what society “dispenses” can be called being. Ghassan Hage usefully explains this in Against Paranoid Nationalism: At the heart of Bourdieu’s anthropology is the idea that people are not passive recipients of being; they struggle to accumulate it. […] it is society that offers individuals the possibility of making something meaningful of their lives. […] It does so by offering people the opportunities to ‘make a life for themselves,’ to invest and occupy and thus create and give social significance to their selves. (16) One could thus argue that, from the point of view of society, the homeless have not “accumulated” any being, that they have failed to achieve social meaningfulness through an active “making” and a “struggle” for being. The consequence of this is suffering a kind of “social death,” as Hage writes quoting Bourdieu: “‘there is no worse dispossession, no worse privation, perhaps, than that of the losers in the symbolic struggle for recognition, for access to a socially recognized social being, in a word, to humanity.’ […] a situation where the possibilities of life are nil is akin to social death” (17). Once again, these ideas can be applied to the homeless, particularly the notion that “social being, in a word, humanity,” can be lost. The reason that the problem of homelessness is ignored—or not seriously tackled—might thus be that the homeless hardly exist at all in the eyes of society, precisely because they FORUM | ISSUE 24 3 have been deprived of humanity (or being) by a society that perceives them as not having earned or “accumulated” it. Declerck’s article might leave its readers thinking of the homeless as left to struggle in a kind of limbo, in that they live in cities, but without being part of society. In other words, the homeless can be seen as living on—or rather, off—the city, on its surface, without ever living in it, and without much interaction with its inhabitants. What this means is that homeless people are left to live in ways that are often perceived as animal-like. What contributes to such an impression is the perception that the homeless live outdoors, struggle to find shelter, are often compelled to scavenge rubbish bins for food and, as Declerck explains, sometimes have no choice but to urinate and defecate outdoors and in public (166). In short, they are simply “desperately trying to survive hour by hour” (165). Thus, the homeless do not merely stand for, or represent, the opposite of what society values, they also embody it, since it is also in and through their suffering bodies that this opposition manifests itself. That the homeless should be left to have lives which are perceived as animal-like can be understood as the corporeal expression of the aforementioned deprival of humanity or of social being. As such, the homeless appear, in society’s eyes, as living expressions of an unspoken threshold between man and animal—a concept developed by the Italian philosopher Giorgio Agamben. In Homo Sacer (104-111), he argues that society is grounded on this threshold, which is the balancing point between the state of nature and the state of culture. It is thus worth asking whether the homeless embody the point at which the balance tips. Agamben explains that society, the state of culture, is founded on the notion that there is an animal-like state of nature which human beings might fall back into. This is a fictitious state in which people would be killing each other as if they were wolves, as Hobbes famously argues in The Leviathan. In this account, society is made up of human beings who are citizens simply by the fact that they have delegated to a sovereign the power to decide who is not one of them. Because the sovereign is the only person who has this power, he allows society to get a glimpse, through his person, of the state of nature and chaos that would come about if all the citizens behaved like him (107). Indeed, the person banished by the sovereign ceases to be entitled to life and peace within society, is deprived of rights, and—like a wolf or any other animal—can be killed by anyone without this being considered an act of homicide (71). While Agamben does not use the word taboo, a term of Polynesian origin, he points out that this banished person was called homo sacer in Latin, meaning set apart, sacred, and that in Germanic and Scandinavian contexts, this person was often referred to as a sacred wolf or wolf-man (105). Agamben’s insights are useful in relation to homelessness insofar as through the figure of the homeless, society is perhaps also given a glimpse of the state of nature. Or, rather, society gets to see the animal-like conditions of survival and suffering that it would allegedly regress back into should its members not reject the temptation of laziness and refusal to work. As Declerck writes: There is something seductive, vertiginous, dangerous about the thought of homelessness. If the lives of the homeless were made too comfortable, we worry that we might all be seduced into letting go […]. Those moments of regression, when the alarm clock goes off and we tu rn it off with a lazy hand or put a pillow over our heads, might spread throughout our lives: we might turn our backs on reality. (169-70) FORUM | ISSUE 24 4 The homeless are therefore left to suffer in a state of survival because, according to Declerck, society believes that if the homeless were allowed more humane lives, then the idleness and laziness it sees in them might tempt people out of work and productivity. “It would be too threatening to our society if the homeless were allowed decent living conditions; we would rather they suffered,” Declerck writes (174). The homeless, like the state of nature in Agamben’s argument, are a political construct that enables society to define itself. Indeed, for Agamben, “the state of nature (…) is a principle internal to the City, which appears at the moment the City is considered tanquam dissoluta, ‘as if it were dissolved’” (105). It is what threatens all members of society should they not continuously renounce their power and give it to the sovereign. Similarly, the homeless can be viewed as constructed animal-like outcasts who are deliberately excluded, ignored and left to survive and suffer in order for society to be able to constantly define itself in opposition to them. Moreover, if the homeless are deprived of being, dispossessed of humanity, and made to suffer animal-like lives, then the discriminating way in which society behaves towards them has characteristics in common with racism. The kind of racism here at play, to use Michel Foucault’s words in Society Must Be Defended, “is not bound up with mentalities, ideologies, or the lies of power” (258). In other words, what is at stake is a hidden, deeper and more structural racism, one tied to the ways in which society constitutes and defines itself, rather than a visible and easily identifiable form such as one that political parties might explicitly put forward on pseudo-scientific grounds. In order to explore this idea, alongside the question of whether the homeless have always played this kind of role for society (and whether they are condemned to do so), it is worth turning once more towards Hage. He develops the argument that “the circle of what each nation defined as its own version of civilised human society” (15) has evolved, expanded and shrunk back throughout history. Drawing on the work of the French “18th century observer and historian” Jules Michelet (14), Hage points out that before the French Revolution, “the lower classes were ‘racialised’ as innately inferior beings considered biologically ill-equipped to access human forms of ‘civilisation’” (14). After the Revolution and “throughout the nineteenth century,” however, an “important historical shift” occurred: “the increasing inclusion of nationally delineated peasants and lower classes into the circle of what each nation defined as its own version of civilised human society” (15). Although this historical shift seems to suggest that changes are possible and that the nation could take care of all its members, Hage points out the following: “this deracialisation and civilisation of the interior went hand in hand with the intensification of the colonial racialisation of the exterior. Now skin colour, in the form of European Whiteness, was emphasised, more than ever before, as the most important basis for one’s access to ‘dignity and hope’” (15). What Hage stresses is that if, from the Revolution onwards, “the ideal imaginary of the European nation-state […] committed to distribute hope, to ‘foster life’ as Foucault has put it, within a society whose borders coincide with the borders of the nation itself” (15) was able to develop as a concept, it is only because the aforementioned “circle of what each nation defined as its own version of civilised human society” was made to coincide with nationality and whiteness. That is to say, the despised figures on the threshold of the animal and the human were no longer the peasants and lower classes but became the native people of colonised territories. FORUM | ISSUE 24 5 Achille Mbembe writes about this in “Necropolitics.” Quoting Hanna Arendt, he explains that “the savages are, as it were, ‘natural’ human beings who lack the specifically human character, the specifically human reality, ‘so that when European man massacred them they somehow were not aware that they had committed murder’” (24). This idea of killing without committing murder finds an echo in Agamben’s concepts of the wolf-man and the thought that animalising or depriving people from humanity serves a social purpose. Hage argues that nowadays, the circle of civilised human society no longer coincides with any nation and that “what we are witnessing is not just a decrease in the state’s commitment to an ethical society but a decrease in its commitment to a national society tout court” (18). He then suggests: We seem to be reverting to the neo-feudal times analysed by Norbert Elias, where the boundaries of civilisation, dignity and hope no longer coincide with the boundaries of the nation, but with the boundaries of upper-class society, the social spaces inhabited by an internationally delineated cosmopolitan class. Increasingly, each nation is developing its own ‘third world,’ inhabited by the rejects of global capitalism. (18) Hage stresses that global capitalism is increasingly taking over nationalism and now constitutes the dominant ideological force delineating the circle of civilised human society. Although one could debate the extent to which this might be the case, Hage’s idea provides an additional hint as to why the homeless are left to suffer on the outskirts of society. In such light, the homeless constitute one of the key targets of a structural, social, discriminating mechanism which seems to automatically take place when a circle is drawn around civilised human society. Using Foucault’s arguments (258), this “mechanism” can be called “racism”—even if it is “far removed” from “ordinary,” or “ideological” racism—which is what Hage also suggests when, writing about Michelet, he writes that “the lower classes were ‘racialised’” (14). Employing this term in this context should not lead one to forget, however, that on top of this structural racism, the homeless can also suffer from discrimination due to skin colour or ethnicity—or what Foucault calls racism’s “traditional form of mutual contempt or hatred between races” (258). Nowadays, according to Hage (18), the discriminating circle delineating the “boundaries of civilization” is drawn, by global capitalism, around people who can enter and contribute to its economic network of production and consumption as developers and/or as consumers. “The homeless sleeping on the city’s benches” and “third world-looking (i.e. yucky-looking) migrants” (20) are outside this circle, which means that they are denied any social being. Hage writes about them: “Not so long ago, the state was committed, at least minimally […] to maintain them as part of society. Now, the ideological and ethical space for perceiving the poor as a social/human problem has shrunk. In the dominant modes of representation the poor become primarily like pimples, an ‘aesthetic nuisance’” (20). Emphasising the dehumanising process at stake, Hage argues that the poor and homeless are no longer a “social/human problem” but an “aesthetic” one; they are no longer people, but “pimples.” Coming back to the question of whether the homeless are condemned to suffer, Hage’s analysis suggests that, were nationalism revived and were it to overtake global capitalism as the leading ideology determining the values and notions which shape society, welfare measures to help the homeless might arise. This would not, however, eradicate structural racism; it seems that the problem would merely be FORUM | ISSUE 24 6 displaced and that other individuals, most likely those from other nations, would likewise be rejected, perceived as animal-like, and made to endure lives of suffering, along the principles developed by Foucault and Agamben. Is it therefore possible, one might ask, to think of a way out of such logic, or is it inherent to the foundation of all societies? In Race and History, Claude Lévi-Strauss notes that Humanity is confined to the borders of the tribe, the linguistic group, or even, in some instances, to the village, so that many so-called primitive peoples describe themselves as “the men” (or sometimes—though hardly more discreetly—as “the good”, “the excellent”, “the well- achieved”) thus implying that the other tribes, groups or villages have no part in the human virtues or even in human nature, but that their members are, at best, “bad”, “wicked”, “ground- monkeys”, or “lousy eggs”. (12) Although such words are not encouraging, in that they suggest that all societies tend to draw a dehumanising circle around them, they point towards what might be the root of the problem of society’s attitude towards homelessness. Indeed, common to Lévi-Strauss, Foucault, Mbembe, Hage and Agamben’s texts is the idea that societies set up discriminating dichotomies. In each case, they discriminate between, on the one hand, the members within the circle of civilised society and, on the other hand, those that lie beyond, which include those banished or excluded from the circle. Moreover this discrimination always seems to go together with the distinction between animal and human: the people within the circle are considered human, those on the outskirts are not. As Lévi-Strauss writes, “anything which does not conform to the standard of the society in which the individual lives is denied the name of culture and relegated to the realm of nature” (11). Whether those “standards” are dictated by nationalism, class, custom, religion or global capitalism, the process always seems to be the same. The fundamental problem therefore appears to be the constant relegation of people beyond the circle of civilised society, or rather, the circle itself. Delineating that circle necessarily draws a li ne defining those inside in opposition to those outside. “In our culture,” Agamben argues in Open: Man and Animal, “man has always been the result of a simultaneous division and articulation of the animal and the human” (92). That is to say, human identity has been forged in relation and in opposition to the animal, as if humanity was something that had to be constantly assessed, compared to or wrought out of animality. Agamben even suggests that “perhaps concentration and extermination camps are also an experiment of this sort, an extreme and monstrous attempt to decide between the human and the inhuman, which has ended up dragging the very possibility of the distinction to its ruin” (22). This constant attempt to compare and contrast the human and the animal in order to define the limits of the former—a tendency Agamben calls the “anthropological machine”—has had such dire consequences that the best thing to do, according to him, is to try to stop this machine by simply suspending the two terms (92). That is to say, ceasing to constantly question and test the limits and alleged borders between animal and man might be the best way to stop society from both creating and ignoring intermediary figures—i.e. people it sees on the threshold of humanity and animality, such as the homeless. For instance, Declerck writes that starting to treat the homeless with decency “means, in effect, rethinking the boundaries of the social contract” (174-5). The use of the term “boundaries” points towards Agamben’s proposed remedy of a “suspension,” in other words, the idea that there should be no passable FORUM | ISSUE 24 7 and debatable boundaries, lest threshold figures—people on the fringes of, or excluded from, society— be perpetually created. What “must be defended,” to use terms from the title of Foucault’s article, is therefore not what lies within the circle of society—not culture as opposed to nature, not civilization as opposed to barbarity. Rather, it is humanity as such, which should never be thought of as having a border with the animal realm. Instead, as Agamben argues, humanity ought to be considered as being forever separated from animality by an unfathomable and unpassable void (92). This would entail getting rid of, on the one hand, the fictions of an alleged and threatening state of nature with animal- like human beings while affirming, on the other hand, the unquestionable universality of one and only humanity. Doing so—granting social being, recognition and consideration to everyone—goes hand in hand with preventing society from creating boundaries that invariably lead to threshold figures, animalisation, dehumanisation and exclusion. Starting from the search for an answer in an article by Patrick Declerck, to a question about why homeless people seem to be ignored and abandoned by society, this investigation has considered how the figure of the homeless can shed light on society as a whole. The homeless, as this article hopes to have shown, can profitably be seen as taboo, that is to say, as playing an unacknowledged role in defining society, its values and borders through the presentation of a negative. As figures denied social being and condemned to live, animal-like, on the outskirts of society, and as figures on the threshold of culture and nature, the homeless appear as one of the targets of the structural racism that inevitably seems to occur whenever a society defines the borders of its humanity or state of culture. What ultimately surfaces is that, in order to counter this structural discrimination along the lines of a division between man and animal, the notion of belonging to humanity should be unquestionably granted to everyone and constantly defended, especially since, as Lévi-Strauss writes about “the concept of humanity as covering all forms of the human species, irrespective of race or civilization (…) there is no certainty—as recent history proves—that it is safe from the dangers of misunderstanding or retrogression” (12). FORUM | ISSUE 24 8 Works Cited Agamben, Giorgio. Open: Man and Animal. Trans. Kevin Attell. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2004. Ebrary. Web. 15 June 2010. ---. Homo Sacer. Trans. Daniel Heller-Roazen. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1998. Print. Declerck, Patrick. “On the Necessary Suffering of the Homeless.” Divided Cities. Ed. Richard Scholar. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. 161-176. Print. Foucault, Michel. ‘Society Must be Defended’: Lectures at the College de France 1975-76. Trans. David Macy. London: Penguin, 2003. Print. Hage, Ghassan. Against Paranoid Nationalism. Sydney, NSW: Pluto Press, 2003. Print. Lévi-Strauss, Claude. Race and History. Paris: United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisations, 1952. Print. Mbembe, Achille. “Necropolitics.” Public Culture 15.1 (2003): 11-40. Print. “Taboo.” Oxford English Dictionary. Web. 25 February 2016. FORUM | ISSUE 24 9 Author Biography Adam B. Clay is a doctoral researcher and tutor at the University of Edinburgh. Prior to being a PhD candidate in English Literature, Adam studied Philosophy and English and held language teaching positions in universities in France and in New Zealand. His research focuses on poetry and care, drawing on works by Martin Heidegger and Ralph Waldo Emerson. Works Cited Author Biography 
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work_6zikycnjirfvtlag2sfd5prtdm	----	07GAR_Oration.indd 353 Annals Academy of Medicine 22nd Gordon Arthur Ransome Oration: Is Medicine Still an Art?* James Best, 1MD (Melb.), FRACP, FRCPath 1Lee Kong Chian School of Medicine, Nanyang Technological University, Singapore Address for Correspondence: Prof James Best, Lee Kong Chian School of Medicine, Novena Campus, 11 Mandalay Road, Singapore 308232. Email: jamesbest@ntu.edu.sg *Delivered on 31 July 2015 at the 49th Singapore-Malaysia Congress of Medicine 2015 Distinguished guests and colleagues in medicine, I am deeply honoured to have been invited to deliver this 22nd oration in honour of Sir Gordon Arthur Ransome, and also humbled when I peruse the list of outstanding previous orators. I took up my position here as Dean of the Lee Kong Chian School of Medicine exactly a year ago, in time to welcome just the second cohort of medical students to Singapore’s newest medical school. Soon after I arrived, I was addressing a group of high school students interested in studying medicine. I emphasised that medicine is both an art and a science. After my address, one of the students came up to me and asked, “What do you mean that medicine is both an art and a science?” I was sure he was not questioning whether medicine is a science, but I am not sure my answer convinced him— perhaps because this proposition was self-evident at the time when I learnt the practice of medicine and so I have not thought very carefully about it in the current era. So choosing this topic has given me the opportunity to consider this proposition anew and to share with you this evening my thoughts about whether medicine is still an art. Now I mentioned that I have been living in Singapore for only one year but I am not a stranger to Singapore. In fact my fi rst visit here, and to Kuala Lumpur on the same trip—the fi rst time I left Australia—was in 1963, the same year as this Congress was fi rst held. My grandfather brought me here to meet his Singaporean friends. Singapore made a deep impression on me and I have been here many times since. So it is a particular pleasure to speak at the Singapore- Malaysia Congress of Medicine over 50 years after my fi rst visit to both the island and the peninsula. Medicine Has Evolved Since the Era of Hippocrates and Voltaire Medicine has long been described as an art. “Life is short, the art long, opportunity fl eeting, experience treacherous, judgment diffi cult” wrote Hippocrates. Voltaire was being frivolous when he wrote “Medicine is the art of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease” and more serious when he wrote “Nothing is more estimable than a physician who, having studied nature from his youth, knows the properties of the human body, the diseases which assail it, the remedies which will benefi t it, exercises his art with caution, and pays equal attention to the rich and the poor”. But we are over 2000 years on from the time of Hippocrates and more than 200 years on from the time of Voltaire. Has the scientifi c era changed medicine irrevocably from an art to a science? Has that other common medical aphorism—“cure sometimes, relieve often, comfort always”—been overtaken by advances in diagnostic and therapeutic medicine? Certainly engineering and technology have brought great advances to medicine over the past 40 to 50 years. I choose this interval as the likely lifetime in medical practice and coincident with my own. Over the past 40 to 50 years, dramatic developments in imaging techniques have allowed us to see inside the body, particularly the brain, with both structural and functional analysis. Surgery has advanced, with laparoscopic techniques and robotic surgery. The prevention and treatment of cardiovascular disease has changed dramatically, with angioplasty and refi nement of coronary artery bypass surgery. In vitro fertilisation has brought the joys, and the tribulations, of parenthood to many families. In my own fi eld of diabetes, we now have miniaturised insulin infusion pumps and continuous glucose monitoring devices, enabling a more physiological match between insulin and glucose levels. Advances in therapeutics have been equally impressive. Study of the genetic and molecular basis of cellular function in health and disease has led to many new therapies. Inhibitors of the enzyme HMG-CoA reductase in the cholesterol synthesis pathway—statins—have revolutionised the prevention and treatment of coronary heart disease. We have entered the era of designer drugs, targeted at cellular signaling pathways and based on Medicine: Still an Art?—James Best Lecture September 2015, Vol. 44 No. 9 354 knowledge of molecular structures. For example, the tyrosine kinase inhibitor, imatinib is dramatically effective in several cancers, including chronic myeloid leukaemia and gastrointestinal stromal tumour. Biological therapies have been developed, such as antibodies designed to block the function of the infl ammatory molecule TNFα, which have proven very effective in the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis and useful in other infl ammatory diseases such as ulcerative colitis and psoriasis. Another antibody therapy, solanezumab, binds to β amyloid proteins and was reported only last week to slow progression of dementia. Stem cell therapies are starting to show real promise in the treatment of macular degeneration and Parkinson’s disease. Laboratory research has also led to an understanding of how some existing therapies work. Only recently have we known that metformin, fi rstline therapy in the treatment of type 2 diabetes for over 50 years, activates the enzyme AMP-kinase, which is also activated by exercise. The holy grail of research in this area is to develop a therapy which is the pharmaceutical equivalent of physical exercise. We have also learned that insulin stimulates uptake of glucose by muscle tissue through activating transfer of a specifi c glucose transporter protein—a sugar shuttle—from an inactive intracellular site to insert itself in the cell membrane. At the same time, particularly in the use of pharmacological treatments, medicine has moved from relying too much on treacherous experience and diffi cult judgment to the use of systematised evidence based on well conducted and unbiased clinical trials. One of the great pioneers in this area of medicine, David Sackett, died on May 13 this year and has left a huge legacy based on judicious application of knowledge. For what use is new knowledge if it is not used appropriately? It can be considered an art to apply the scientifi c basis of medicine wisely and effectively. The Era of Precision Medicine Now—62 years after Watson and Crick reported the structure of DNA and 12 years after the fi rst human genome was sequenced—we stand on the threshold of an era named precision medicine. In this proposed model of medical care, diagnosis, prognosis and treatment will be based on genome analysis—genomics, protein analysis— proteomics and metabolite analysis—metabolomics, from each individual. This mega-data or big data will be collated to predict response and so to individualise therapy. Of course this approach relies on high level computing, which is also changing the nature of medical practice. Although it is argued that medicine has been much slower to utilise computing technology than other industries such as the commercial and engineering fi elds, the advent of the electronic medical record and digitisation of imaging and laboratory results mean that the computer screen is or will soon be our constant companion during the consultation. As we all know, our patients can and do access medical information on the internet, as well as from family, friends and neighbours, who also get information form the internet. And our patients can also seek treatment through the internet. Computerised cognitive behavioural therapy is available online for help with anxiety, stress, depression, phobias and obsessive compulsive disorders. Systematic analysis of studies in this area has demonstrated the utility of this approach. So what are the consequences of the explosion of technology and scientifi c discovery for the practice of medicine and the role of the doctor? Science and technology of medicine is at its most advanced in the US, of course, and so perhaps we should look there for the answer to what lies ahead. Dr Abraham Verghese, physician-author and Professor for the Theory and Practice of Medicine at Stanford University Medical School says, “I joke, but only half joke, that if you show up in an American hospital missing a fi nger, no one will believe you until they get a CAT scan, MRI and orthopedic consult”. So using one’s judgment and common sense is still part of the art of medicine, in both diagnosis and treatment. Much of medicine continues to involve complexity and uncertainty, so there remains a place for clinical reasoning despite the ubiquity of clinical guidelines and decision support systems. What Constitutes the Art of Medicine and Is It Still Required? But what other elements of medical practice remain relevant and constitute the art of medicine? They are contained in the many strands that make up the bond between doctor and patient. The basis of the doctor-patient relationship is trust—and trust is engendered in ways that include active listening, empathy, compassion and physical contact. That is not easy. As Kafka wrote in his short book, ‘A Country Doctor’: “To write prescriptions is easy; to come to an understanding with people is hard.” That is the essence of clinical medicine: to come to an understanding with people and with that understanding to accompany them on their medical journey. No matter how sophisticated diagnosis and therapy becomes, patients will still appreciate someone they trust accompanying them on that journey. What comfort can a computer provide? Even if it does have artifi cial intelligence and even if it can simulate the human touch, it will still be just that—artifi cial and simulated. Even with the scientifi c advances over the past 40 to 50 years, I would contend that this kind of relationship with our patients is just as important as it ever was. With more Medicine: Still an Art?—James Best 355 Annals Academy of Medicine chronic disease and in Singapore an ageing population, complex illnesses such as diabetes require a strong bond between doctor and patient to achieve good outcomes. We are far from curative treatments for kidney, liver, lung or heart failure, despite the advances in stem cell research. Neurodegenerative diseases and musculoskeletal disorders are major burdens with only modest advances in most areas. Mental illness remains a major cause of morbidity and progress in the therapeutic management of major psychiatric disorders over the past 40 to 50 years has been incremental but not dramatic. In cancer treatment there have been signifi cant advances in some areas, but cancers of lung, pancreas, breast, ovary and prostate are still major causes of mortality and the promise of precise therapies based on the genetic and molecular analysis of individual cancers remains just a promise. I do, of course, share the excitement at the discoveries that have enhanced our knowledge of the pathophysiological basis of human disease and I can envision the amazing progress likely to occur over the next 50 years in the treatment, and hopefully in the prevention, of many of the diseases I have mentioned. But I do not foresee medicine becoming totally mechanised and even if there are effective treatments for all illnesses, they will still need to be managed by caring clinicians with empathy and compassion. Just as insulin was expected to be a cure for diabetes 94 years ago, I expect that many of the so-called cures that will be discovered in the future, will in fact, be imperfect and complex therapies. Management of Patients with Terminal Illness in the Era of Precision Medicine One concern about the advent of precision medicine is that we could, as a profession, focus almost entirely on technical treatment of the disease process and lose our view of the whole person, our patient. This danger of applying scientifi cally sound therapies in circumstances which are futile already occurs frequently in the management of patients with cancer. In his book ‘Being Mortal’, Harvard Medical School surgeon Atul Gawande writes “The simple view is that medicine exists to fi ght death and disease, and that is, of course, its most basic task. But the enemy has superior forces. Eventually, it wins. And in a war that you cannot win, you don’t want a general who fi ghts to the point of total annihilation.” Treatment that is burdensome—both in terms of major side effects and cost—and essentially futile in that it may prolong life by only a few months is already prevalent in the so-called battle against cancer. In the precision medicine age, we will undoubtedly see major advances in cancer therapy with dramatic and worthwhile outcomes. At the same time, there will be many other therapies that have only incremental benefi t, extending life by a few months at great cost to all concerned. Helping our patients and their families to choose wisely in this situation will require great art. Sir Murray Brennan, a New Zealand born and educated surgical oncologist, who was Chairman of the Department of Surgery at Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in New York for over 20 years, spoke at a symposium I attended earlier this year on ‘Affordable Cancer Care.’ He spoke about the extensive practice of futile and burdensome surgery in cancer care because doctors lose sight of what is good for their patients. And he contrasted the ways that doctors can care for their patients when the decision is made that aggressive treatment of the disease is no longer warranted. An all too common approach is to say, “There is nothing more I can do for you” and to pass the patient on for palliative care management. His recommended approach is to say, “I do not think there is any further benefi t to be gained from more surgery. But I will continue to care for you and make sure you receive the best possible treatment.” I believe that is the kind of doctor you and I would like to have caring for us. So let us make sure that use of the new treatments that will become available as the precision medicine wave rolls in, is matched by a renewed focus on patient-centred care, balancing the science with the art of medicine. Let us afford our patients a good death when the time comes, with all the care that modern medicine can provide, but avoiding futile and invasive treatments that rob them of dignity and precious last moments with their loved ones. The Rewards from Medicine as a Caring Profession and its Teaching While doctors who are skilled in the art of medicine provide great benefi t to their patients, we should not forget the rewards we receive as clinicians from practising the art of medicine. Robert M Solomon, medical graduate of University of Singapore and bishop of the Methodist Church in Singapore believes that “the quality of the doctor-patient relationship…is guided by the best of human virtues such as altruism, compassion and the desire to alleviate human suffering.” Isn’t that what has drawn us to medicine as a career—the opportunity to share in the lives of others and to lighten their burden in times of trouble? Doesn’t that give meaning to our lives—or at least to our working lives? As the American poet and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson said: “To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded.” So if it is important for doctors to practise the art of medicine well into the future, how should we be equipping Medicine: Still an Art?—James Best September 2015, Vol. 44 No. 9 356 our medical students to learn the art? Again Dr Verghese from Stanford: “What we need in medical schools is not to teach empathy, as much as to preserve it—the process of learning huge volumes of information about disease, of learning a specialised language, can ironically make one lose sight of the patient one came to serve; empathy can be replaced by cynicism.” Of course we do attempt now to select students in part on the basis of their empathic skills, but that is a very inexact science. At least we demonstrate that we think it is important. Encouraging our students to learn from their patients and from other health professionals is part of the modern curriculum for instilling a sense of empathy and compassion. We can also teach about professionalism and ethical responsibility. The development of professional identity is aided in many medical schools by white coat ceremonies and recitation of the Hippocratic Oath on entry to medical school. Over 100 years ago William Osler urged us to treat medical students as our junior colleagues, surely an important way for them to develop that sense of belonging to our profession. Innovative programmes in the humanities and medicine use art, literature and poetry to explain the human condition and to help our students come to an understanding of human nature and the effect of illness on the individual. In fact, it is not just students who can benefi t from a study of the humanities. William Osler read non-medical classics from 10 to 11 every evening—and just as we keep ourselves up to date with medical literature, we can refresh our commitment to the art of medicine in this way. With all of these efforts to develop our students as caring professionals, it is the role model that doctors provide to our students that probably has the most impact. Learning by example, just as children tend to emulate their parents’ behaviour, is called the hidden curriculum. That means we all have a responsibility to demonstrate the art of medicine when we are being observed and to practise it even when we are not being observed. Because genuine empathy and compassion are not qualities that can be turned on and off like a tap. What Can We Learn and Emulate from Gordon Arthur Ransome? In his collection of aphorisms called ‘Aequanimitas’, William Osler wrote “the stories of the lives of the masters of medicine do much to stimulate our ambition and rouse our sympathies.” So what can we learn from that master of medicine and fi rst master of the Academy, Gordon Arthur Ransome, that will stimulate our ambition to practise the art of medicine? I draw on his entry in Munk’s Roll of the lives of members of the College of Physicians, which in turn, derives from the writings of his students and colleagues, some of whom have spoken of him at earlier orations in his honour. He is described as kind and softly spoken. He was always ready to answer any cry for help from patients, staff or colleagues. When he was with a patient, he was transported into a world where only the patient mattered—and his patients knew that. He believed that a doctor is placed in a special position to gain the patient’s trust and that a doctor needs to be a student of human nature. He was a master of clinical diagnosis and an enthusiastic and effective teacher, fondly remembered by his students. I want to emphasise here that Gordon Arthur Ransome loved teaching, as did William Osler. In fact Osler said: “I desire no other epitaph—no hurry about it, I may say—than the statement that I taught medical students in the wards, as I regard this as by far the most useful and important work I have been called upon to do.” I am sure Ransome knew this Oslerian saying and he himself was notorious for becoming so engaged in teaching his medical students that they complained he would often keep them through their lunch period. He believed that students should study history and philosophy—and I am sure he would have approved of the introduction of the study of the humanities into the modern medical curriculum. As Dean of a medical school, I cannot pass up the opportunity to recommend teaching as another way to maintain our currency in the art and science of medicine, as well as to give back to the profession which has nurtured us. I mentioned earlier the practice of reciting the Hippocratic Oath at entry to medical school or after graduation. It is usually a modern version such as that endorsed by the World Medical Association. Another interpretation that I particularly like was written in 1964 by the Dean of Tufts University medical school, Dr Louis Lasagna. The fi rst promise in this version is: “I will respect the hard-won scientifi c gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow.” And there is another promise that is relevant to my topic this evening: “I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife or the chemist’s drug.” Clearly, Gordon Arthur Ransome epitomised the art of medicine and we can learn much from his example of selfl essness and devotion to his patients. Of course, the world and its ways have changed since he practised medicine here in Singapore. The gender balance of the medical profession has changed and the importance of family and other commitments outside of medicine are acknowledged more readily. We are also challenged by changes that can distance us from our patients, like the computer terminal, the Medicine: Still an Art?—James Best 357 Annals Academy of Medicine mask and gloves that are now part of the medical uniform in many settings. But it is the ethos, the spirit of his legacy that we want to emulate and pass on in turn to the future members of the medical profession. Gordon Arthur Ransome valued medical history and medical books and was a devotee of the works of William Osler. So it is fi tting to conclude the oration in his honour with another aphorism from ‘Aequanimitas’: “The practice of medicine is an art, not a trade; a calling, not a business; a calling in which your heart will be exercised equally with your head.” Thank you for this singular honour of addressing you this evening. Medicine: Still an Art?—James Best 
work_727ook52dzg5znluupo4ipd3lu	----	14735504_7-2.qxd.goldlabel Journal of American Studıes Jou rn alof A m erican S tu d ies Volu m e 4 7 N u m b er 3 A u g u st2 0 1 3 p p 5 8 9 –8 6 9 Volume 47 Number 3 August 2013 Volume 47 Nu mber 3 August 2013 Journal of American Studıes Cambridge Journals Online For further information about this journal please go to the journal website at: journals.cambridge.org/ams v Editors’ Introduction A RT I C L E S 589 Unfair Ground: Girlhood and Theme Parks in Contemporary Fiction S A R A H G R A H A M 605 “A Single Woman … Among So Many Men”: Negotiating Gendered Spaces in John Gregory Brown’s Audubon’s Watch A R T E M I S M I C H A I L I D O U 621 From This Point on It’s All about Loss: Attachment to Loss in the Novels of Don DeLillo, from Underworld to Falling Man A L A N M A R S H A L L 637 “the agitation of the autobiographical”: National Politics and Aesthetic Autonomy in Philip Roth’s Exit Ghost A N D Y C O N N O L LY 659 “Our Present Work Will Be All Doors”: Writers and Periodical Culture in 1860s San Francisco J A N E T F LO Y D 673 The Injuries of Reading: Jesse Pomeroy and the Dire Effects of Dime Novels D AW N K E E T L E Y 699 Strange Birds: Rewriting The Maltese Falcon C Y N T H I A S . H A M I LT O N 719 Local Public Opinion: The National Board of Review of Motion Pictures and the Fight against Film Censorship in Virginia, 1916–1922 J E N N I F E R F R O N C 743 Styleless Style? What Photorealism Can Tell Us about “the Sixties” C R A I G J . P E A R I S O 759 “The Master-Key of Our Theme”: Master Betty and the Politics of Theatricality in Herman Melville’s “The Fiddler” M I C H A E L J A M E S C O L L I N S 777 Using Citizenship to Retain Identity: The Native American Dance Bans of the Later Assimilation Era, 1900–1933 G A B R I E L L A T R E G L I A 801 Security: The Long History E L I J E L LY- S C H A P I R O R O U N D TA B L E 827 Denise Gigante, The Keats Brothers: The Life of John and George 839 R E V I E W S E L E C T R O N I C C O N T E N T O N L I N E R E V I E W E S S AY E X C L U S I V E O N L I N E R E V I E W S www.journals.cambridge.org/ams terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core Editorial policy Journal of American Studies publishes works by scholars from all over the world on American literature, history, institutions, politics, economics, film, popular culture, geography and related subjects. A ‘Notes and Comments’ section provides a forum for shorter pieces and responses from readers to points made in articles or reviews. 1. Submissions Papers should be submitted via the following website http://mc.manuscriptcentral.com/jamstuds. Authors who do not yet have an account on the online submission site will need to register before submitting a manuscript. If you are unsure about your login details or whether you have an account or not, please use the password help field on the login page. Do not create a new account if you are unsure. 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Scott Lucas (Editor) University of Birmingham Celeste-Marie Bernier (Associate Editor) University of Nottingham Bevan Sewell (Associate Editor) University of Nottingham Zalfa Feghali (Editorial Assistant) University of Birmingham Hannah Durkin (Editorial Assistant) University of Nottingham Ian Bell Keele University Bridget Bennett University of Leeds Will Brooker Kingston University London Richard Crockatt University of East Anglia Susan Currell University of Sussex Wai Chee Dimock Yale University Sylvia Ellis Northumbria University Richard Gray University of Essex Martin Halliwell University of Leicester Jo Gill University of Exeter Caroline Levander Rice University George Lewis University of Leicester Brian Neve University of Bath Geoff Plank University of East Anglia Jacques Pothier University of Versailles Giles Scott-Smith Roosevelt Study Center, Leiden University Marjorie Spruill University of South Carolina Stephen Tuck University of Oxford Brian Ward Northumbria University Mark Whalan University of Oregon Figures: Spell one to ninety-nine in text, except e.g. 75 voted for, 39 against, and 15 abstained. Spell only one to nine in footnotes. 15 percent (but use % in footnotes). Abbreviations: Mr., Dr., Jr., Sr. (as in Richard Henry Dana, Sr.); but USA, USSR, UN, NATO, ACLS, DAB, PMLA (without periods). Ibid., et al., etc., loc. cit. (Latin with periods). Tables: Use space rather than vertical rules, unless the latter are absolutely essential sources and notes should appear immediately below each table. Footnotes should be used sparingly: in general, to give sources of direct quotations, references to main authorities on disputable questions, and evidence relied on for a new or unusual conclusion. They should be numbered consecutively. Capitalization: southern, northern, southerner, northerner, governor, President of the United States, South, North, Midwest. Citations should wherever possible be to authoritative editions rather than to paperback reprints of no textual authority. Books should be cited as follows, complete with publisher’s name: W.R. Brock, American Crisis: Congress and Reconstruction 1865–1867 (London: Macmillan, 1963), 274–83 H.C. Allen and C.P. Hill, eds., British Essays in American History (London: Edward Arnold, 1957) Frances Anne Kemble, Journal of a Residence on a Georgia Plantation in 1838–1939, ed. John A. Scott (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1961), 260ff. John Livingstone Lowes, The Road to Xanadu: A Study in the Ways of the Imagination 2nd edn. (1930; rept. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1959), 61. Helen T. Catterall, ed., Judicial Cases Concerning American Slavery and the Negro, 5 vols. (Washington, DC: US Govt. Printing Office, 1926–37), 1, 216–21, 247; 4, 16.19. John M. Hill, An Introduction to American Fiction, 2nd edn. rev. (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976), xi-xiii. Subsequent citations should be indicated thus: Immediately following: Ibid., 47. 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Journal of American Studıes Journal of American Studıes Instructions for contributors http://assets.cambridge.org/AMS/AMS_ifc.pdf This journal issue has been printed on FSC-certified paper and cover board. FSC is an independent, non-governmental, not-for-profit organization established to promote the responsible management of the world’s forests. Please see www.fsc.org for information. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core Contents Editor’s Introduction v Articles Unfair Ground: Girlhood and Theme Parks in Contemporary Fiction  SARAH GRAHAM “A Single Woman . . . Among So Many Men”: Negotiating Gendered Spaces in John Gregory Brown’s Audubon’s Watch  ARTEMIS MICHAILIDOU From This Point on It’s All about Loss: Attachment to Loss in the Novels of Don DeLillo, from Underworld to Falling Man ALAN MARSHALL  “the agitation of the autobiographical”: National Politics and Aesthetic Autonomy in Philip Roth’s Exit Ghost  ANDY CONNOLLY “Our Present Work Will Be All Doors”: Writers and Periodical Culture in s San Francisco  JANET FLOYD The Injuries of Reading: Jesse Pomeroy and the Dire Effects of Dime Novels  DAWN KEETLEY Strange Birds: Rewriting The Maltese Falcon  CYNTHIA S. HAMILTON Local Public Opinion: The National Board of Review of Motion Pictures and the Fight against Film Censorship in Virginia, –  JENNIFER FRONC Styleless Style? What Photorealism Can Tell Us about “the Sixties”  CRAIG J. PEARISO “The Master-Key of Our Theme”: Master Betty and the Politics of Theatricality in Herman Melville’s “The Fiddler”  MICHAEL JAMES COLLINS terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core Using Citizenship to Retain Identity: The Native American Dance Bans of the Later Assimilation Era, –  GABRIELLA TREGLIA Security: The Long History  ELI JELLY-SCHAPIRO Roundtable: Denise Gigante, The Keats Brothers: The Life of John and George  CLARE ELLIOTT, MICHAEL J. COLLINS, PETER J. L. RILEY, BEN HICKMAN Reviews  Reviews Sohail Daulatzai, Black Star, Crescent Moon: The Muslim International and Black Freedom beyond America  Craig Yirush, Settlers, Liberty, and Empire: The Roots of Early American Political Theory, –  Geoffrey Plank, John Woolman’s Path to the Peaceable Kingdom: A Quaker in the British Empire  Nicole Eustace, : War and the Passions of Patriotism  Nicholas Buccola, The Political Thought of Frederick Douglass: In Pursuit of American Liberty  Nan Goodman and Michael P. Kramer (eds.), The Turn around Religion in America: Literature, Culture, and the Work of Sacvan Bercovitch  Kidada E. Williams, They Left Great Marks on Me: African American Testimonies of Racial Violence from Emancipation to World War I  Grace Peña Delgado, Making the Chinese Mexican: Global Migration, Localism, and Exclusion in the U.S.–Mexican Borderlands  Rose Stremlau, Sustaining the Cherokee Family: Kinship and the Allotment of an Indigenous Nation  Jennifer A. Greenhill, Playing It Straight: Art and Humor in the Gilded Age  Brian Dolinar, The Black Cultural Front: Black Writers and Artists of the Depression Generation  Catherine Morley, Modern American Literature  George I. Lovell, This Is Not Civil Rights: Discovering Rights Talk in  America  David W. Ellwood, The Shock of America: Europe and the Challenge of the Century  Mary L. Dudziak, War Time: An Idea, Its History, Its Consequences  William Thomas Allison, My Lai: An American Atrocity in the Vietnam War  Jonathan Lyons, Islam through Western Eyes: From the Crusades to the War on Terrorism  Aliyyah I. Abdur-Rahman, Against the Closet: Black Political Longing and the Erotics of Race  Celine Parreñas Shimizu, Straitjacket Sexualities: Unbinding Asian American Manhoods in the Movies  Helen Oakley, From Revolution to Migration: A Study of Contemporary Cuban and Cuban-American Crime Fiction  Electronic Content Online Review Essay African Americans Fight Their Civil War DOUGLAS R. EGERTON terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core Exclusive Online Reviews The following reviews are freely available in the online version of this issue at www.journals. cambridge.org/ams David R. Swartz, Moral Minority: The Evangelical Left in an Age of Conservatism Evan Haefeli (ed.), New Netherland and the Dutch Origins of American Religious Liberty Gregg. L. Frazer, The Religious Beliefs of America’s Founders: Reason, Revelation, and Revolution Tony Bickham, The Weight of Vengeance: The United States, the British Empire, and the War of  Daniel Koch, Ralph Waldo Emerson in Europe: Class, Race, and Revolution in the Making of an American Thinker Henry Louis Gates (ed.), Lincoln on Race and Slavery Phillip W. Magness and Sebastian N. Page, Colonization after Emancipation: Lincoln and the Movement for Black Resettlement Diana Rebekkah Paulin, Imperfect Unions: Staging Miscegenation in U. S. Drama and Fiction Andrew Lawson, Downwardly Mobile: The Changing Fortunes of American Realism Frank Rzeczkowski, Uniting the Tribes: The Rise and Fall of the Pan-Indian Community on the Crow Reservation Bonnie M. Miller, From Liberation to Conquest: The Visual and Popular Culture of the Spanish–American War of  Elizabeth Leane, Antarctica in Fiction: Imaginative Narratives of the Far South Elena Glasberg, Antarctica as Cultural Critique: The Gendered Politics of Scientific Exploration and Climate Change Sarah Churchwell and Thomas Ruys Smith (eds.), Must Read: Rediscovering American Bestsellers from Charlotte Temple to The Da Vinci Code Kevin J. Hayes, A Journey through American Literature Frederick Turner, Renegade: Henry Miller and the Making of Tropic of Cancer Don Mitchell, They Saved the Crops: Labor, Landscape, and the Struggle over Industrial Farming in Bracero-Era California Sharin N. Elkholy (ed.), The Philosophy of the Beats Alexander Leicht, The Search for a Democratic Aesthetics: Robert Rauschenberg, Walker Evans, William Carlos Williams Shana Bernstein, Bridges of Reform: Interracial Civil Rights Activism in Twentieth-Century Los Angeles John P. Spencer, In the Crossfire: Marcus Foster and the Troubled History of American School Reform Tim S. R. Boyd, Georgia Democrats, the Civil Rights Movement, and the Shaping of the New South George Derek Musgrove, Rumor, Repression, and Racial Politics: How the Harassment of Black Elected Officials Shaped Post-Civil Rights America Steven Powell,  American Crime Writers Julie Levinson, The American Success Myth on Film Dennis DeSlippe, Protesting Affirmative Action: The Struggle over Equality after the Civil Rights Revolution Keith Byerman, The Art and Life of Clarence Major Carol Magee, Africa in the American Imagination: Popular Culture, Racialized Identities, and African Visual Culture Ahmed Elbeshlawy, America in Literature and Film: Modernist Perceptions, Postmodernist Representations Eric Weisbard (ed.), POP: When the World Falls Apart: Music in the Shadow of Doubt Charles W. Dunn (ed.), American Culture in Peril Stacey Peebles, Welcome to the Suck: Narrating the American Soldier’s Experience in Iraq Alan Ehrenhalt, The Great Inversion and the Future of the American City terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core Editors’ Introduction We are pleased to publish in this issue a range of articles around distinctive themes in American literature and culture, in particular, the construction of “America” amid the promise of progress and the reality of domestic tensions. Our first four essays work from a variety of perspectives with contemporary authors and their contexts, including Philip Roth, Don DeLillo, and John Gregory Brown. Our following five essays offer critiques of mass culture, including evaluations of nineteenth-century periodicals, dime novels, and The Maltese Falcon. In other essays, readers can move from study of Herman Melville to the relationship between Native American dance bans and citizenship, to an evaluation of the “long history” of US security. Tracing the life and works not only of John Keats but also of his lesser- known brother, George, a roundtable organized by Michael Collins sees participants Clare Elliott, Peter Riley, Ben Hickman, and Michael Collins debate Denise Gigante’s recent volume The Keats Brothers: The Life of John and George. Coming to grips not only with their fraternal relationship, these scholars engage in an in-depth intellectual conversation regarding transatlantic migration, especially as it relates to George Keats’s removal to the United States, transcendentalism, melancholia, and chattel slavery. From a study of letters, biographical writing, and imaginative poetic discourse in relation to transnational models of exchange, new light emerges not only upon the life and works of an iconic poet also but upon the shifting relationship between British and American Romanticism. On the electronic side, Douglas R. Egerton’s powerful review essay examines recent scholarship debating the history, politics, and, above all, memory of the Civil War vis-à-vis African American lives as lived in slavery and in freedom. Foregrounding black agency, radicalism, and resistance, he debates fundamental issues relating not only to black military service but also to political activism, familial life, and long- standing and emerging liberation movements. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875813001266 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_7cevys5zivbrzbuedjom4l25ji	----	Emotional dehiscence after successful renal transplantation Kidney International, Vol. 17 (1980), pp. 388-396 NEPHROLOGY FORUM Emotional dehiscence after successful renal transplantation Principal Discussant: SAMUEL H. BASCH Department of Psychiatry, Mount Sinai School of Medicine, New York, New York Case presentation This 26-year-old woman was in good health until 6 years ago when she developed membranoproliferative glomerulonephritis. After 3 years of progressive, functional renal deterioration, the patient began chronic hemodialysis. After 14 months of hemo- dialysis, accompanied by depression and poorly controlled hy- pertension, the patient was encouraged to accept a 4/4 HLA- identical graft from her 21-year-old brother. Two weeks follow- ing transplantation, she had a severe rejection episode, which was treated with 7 grams of methylprednisolone; hemodialysis was required for 2 weeks but her renal function improved sub- sequently. Two months after transplantation, the serum creati- nine concentration was 1.2 mg/dl. Renal function has remained stable for the last 18 months; the most recent value for serum creatinine was 0.9 mg/dl. Her therapeutic regimen included: prednisone, 30 mg every other day; azathioprine, 100 mg/day; and antihypertensive medications. Despite the restoration of normal renal function, the patient's psychiatric stance did not improve following transplantation. The patient was a nurse's aide in a nursing home prior to the onset of her renal disease. She is the oldest of three children; her two brothers are 18 and 21 years old. The patient's parents sepa- rated when she was 7 years old. After the separation, she lived with her mother with whom she had a hostile and dependent rela- tionship. The mother remarried but was divorced 6 years ago. The patient's family life was chaotic and unstable and included Presentation of the Forum is made possible by grants from Hoechst-Roussel Pharmaceuticals Inc., Smith Kline & French Laboratories, G. D. Searle & Co., Wamer-Lambert Pharmaceu- tical Division, Burroughs Welicome Company, Geigy Pharma- ceuticals Inc., Ciba Pharmaceuticals Inc., and Boehringer Ingel- heim Ltd. 0085-2538/80/0017—0388 $01.80 © 1980 by the International Society of Nephrology many episodes of alcohol-associated physical abuse by her fa- ther. During the patient's 14 months of dialysis, she experienced severe depression, which was manifest as withdrawal, difficulty sleeping at night, and an inability to communicate with the nurs- ing and medical staff. She would frequently sleep during the en- tire dialysis session, thereby avoiding all contact. The patient had some suicidal thoughts while undergoing dialysis but denied ever attempting suicide. Her depression was treated with ami- triptyline, and her energy level and personal care improved. Fol- lowing "successful" transplantation, the patient again became depressed and addicted to narcotics, requiring up to 12 tablets of Percodan® or Percocet® per day. During a live and one-half month period after transplantation, she took a minimum of 1345 Percodan® tablets. The patient was admitted to the psychiatric unit approximately 8 months following transplantation for evaluation of depression and drug abuse. Narcotic withdrawal was not successful and she was discharged receiving methadone instead of Percodan®. She stated then that she had been depressed 'since the transplant." It became apparent that the patient had suffered several losses over the preceding years:first, she had become very attached to the dialysis unit and lost that relationship after successful trans- plantation; second, the dialysis social worker with whom she had worked quite closely left; third, she had a severe rejection epi- sode following kidney transplantation and was afraid of losing the kidney; fourth, she was engaged to an older, divorced man prior to the onset of her renal failure, and the restoration of nor- mal renal function allowed her to consider marriage, thus threaten- ing her with separation from her mother. Finally, the patient was quite disappointed that the anticipated dramatic change in her life did not occur after successful treatment of her kidney failure. In summary, the patient is a young woman with chronic renal failure who, following HLA-identical kidney transplantation, achieved restoration of normal renal function but has not achieved an independent mode of living. Severe depression, an- tedating her kidney transplant has persisted, and drug depend- ency has become a major problem. 388 Discussion Dg. SAMUEL H. BASCH (Associate Clinical Pro- fessor of Psychiatry, Mount Sinai School of Medi- cine, and Consultant Robert Wood Johnson, Jr. Re- nal Treatment Center, Mt. Sinai Hospital, New York, New York): It is appropriate at this time in the growth and progress in the field of nephrology that we accord proper attention to the psychologic state and general welfare of the renal patient. As the kidney patient's life expectancy is artifically ex- tended by medical technology, sophisticated sur- gery, and space-age pharmacology, quality-of-life issues become more prominent. Physicians are The Nephrology Forum is designed to relate the principles of basic science to clinical prob- lems in nephrology. Editors JORDAN J. COHEN JOHN T. HARRINGTON JEROME P. KASSIRER New England Medical Center Hospital Boston, Massachusetts Emotional dehiscence after transplantation 389 involved in more complex and sometimes unsettling ways, which are demonstrated by the types of problems that emerged in caring for this patient and by the treatment choices that confronted the medical staff. This patient also raises several issues relevant to modern forms of renal care and their psychologic impact on the patient. Increasingly, medical attention has been drawn to the profound psychologic effects of end-stage renal disease and its treatments on the total functioning of the patient [1]. In Hamlet, Shakespeare captured the essence of this predicament when King Claudius stated. Diseases desperate grown By desperate appliance are relieved, Or not at all. (IV, iii, 9—11) Our patient certainly was so struck by both the disease and its treatment. Renal disease early in life The patient presented was first stricken with membranoproliferative glomerulonephritis when she was 20, barely out of her teens. Her age is rele- vant, because renal disease cannot only stunt phys- ical development but also can cause retardation or regression of emotional growth [2]. Our patient, perhaps immature despite her age, most likely expe- rienced a suspension of her personality develop- ment with the onset of her renal disease. Renal disease frequently occurs early in life and, when it does, it often has subsequent life-long psy- chologic and physical consequences. Stunted growth, anomalies accompanying certain renal dis- orders, and physical changes from kidney disease exaggerate the patient's sense of being different, if not odd, and lead to isolation. The young person might feel like an invalid or misfit and tend to with- draw voluntarily. Medical visits, episodes of illness, and hospitalizations interfere with the patient's schedule and activities. Lack of social activities and exposure deprive the young individual of the inter- action and experience necessary for emotional growth and development. When the treatment itself becomes central, as in hemodialysis or trans- plantation, it can replace other dimensions of life and virtually become life itself. Kidney disease im- posed itself on this patient; the disorder and its ther- apy absorbed the patient's resources, time, and en- ergy while the rest of her life stood still. Her world became a renal worEd at age 20. Personality and diagnosis Our patient's history describes her in various contexts as hostile and dependent, depressed and withdrawn, noncommunicative, and having a chaot- ic and unstable background. A battery of psycho- logic examinations, although not reported, was in- dicated and would have provided an additional basis for information and understanding. These ex- aminations can uncover hidden psychopathologic entities not readily apparent clinically. These tests can sometimes reveal conditions such as depression or anxiety. Also, the tests can diagnose the organic mental syndrome and a range of psychoses and neuroses [3]. The psychiatric differential diagnosis is important here. This patient's history does not indicate schiz- oid, borderline, or schizophrenic diagnoses, all of which would have to be investigated in a patient with this history and clinical course. Psychologic evaluation prior to therapy is essential because the psychologic outcome of the treatment can be under- stood only in terms of the individual's psycho- pathologic conditions. Just as the patient's pre- operative physical status influences the outcome of surgery, so does the psychologic matrix affect the psychiatric outcome and life adjustment of the pa- tient. The depressed or schizoid individual stricken with renal disease cannot readily emerge from dial- ysis or transplantation with good mental health. The history described unfolds the story of a young woman who has had psychologic distur- bances since childhood. However, the case material is not sufficient to provide evidence of a severe, specific underlying psychiatric disorder. The con- sideration of whether any deep psychopathology does exist, however, leads to an examination of an area of recent inquiry that also links psychiatry and nephrology. Schizophrenia and dialysis In l%0, Feer et al. reported improvement in three of five patients with schizophrenia treated with dialysis [4]. The observation lay dormant until recently when psychiatrist Wagemaker and ne- phrologist Cade described dialysis as an effective treatment in a small number of patients with schizo- phrenia [5]. Palmour, a biochemist at Berkeley, studied Wagemaker's patients and reported a hun- dredfold higher concentration of /3-Leu5-endorphin in fluid of the first dialysate than in the fluid of the 16th dialysate [5]. This finding suggested that the metabolic stores of the aberrant peptide gradually were being diminished by the treatment. Yet this peptide, found to be very active when injected into animals, has not been shown to react similarly in humans. Information that could offer a different ex- planation as to how hemodialysis could relieve 390 Nephrology Forum schizophrenia was offered by twin articles in a re- cent issue of Lan cei', which reported a virus-like agent in the cerebrospinal fluid of more than one- third of several dozen schizophrenic patients stud- ied [6, 71. The notion that an agent causative for schizo- phrenia is removed by hemodialysis remains moot. Patients with normal kidney function have been studied, and dialysis obviously adds only slightly to the glomerular filtration capacity in these patients; the unknown agent therefore would have to be fil- tered in the glomerulus and resorbed by the tubule. Since the artificial kidney does not resorb, this could explain eliminating the agent during dialysis [8]. The clearance of middle-molecule polypeptides is lower for the dialysis machine than for the kidney itself [9]. /3-Leu5-endorphin, a middle-molecule polypeptide, thus would be better removed by the normal kidney than by a dialyzing machine. Fur- thermore, protein and protein-bound agents are not removed by normal kidney function or through dial- ysis. The alleged schizophrenia-inducing agent therefore would have to be a small, non-protein- bound molecule that in a normal kidney is resorbed completely by the tubule [8]. However, research on this topic to date has not provided convincing data 118]. No reports of controlled and double-blind sham dialysis studies utilizing ranges of surface area and membrane permeability have been published. He,nodialvsis versus transplantation Let us now return to our patient. Despite the lack of evidence supporting the thesis that dialysis can cure—or at best control—psychologic problems, the case report suggests that the psychiatric symp- toms of this patient might have been less prominent during hemodialysis than after transplantation. This possibility raises the issue of treatment choice, namely, whether hemodialysis, although not cura- tive, might be psychologically more salutary than is renal transplantation in certain individuals. With the advantage of retrospection, we recognize that this young woman made an adjustment, albeit mar- ginal, on hemodialysis. The decision for renal transplantation is based on a multitude of factors, including the bias of the renal unit toward dialysis or transplantation; the empha- sis, experience, and expertise of the medical and surgical staff in dialysis and transplantation; the general medical condition of the patient; and the staff's quest for improvement of the patient's phys- ical state. When the decision to transplant has been made, the staff often has a unified approach in pre- senting the recommendation to the patient. Most patients, because they trust the dialysis staff and are not equipped with the in-depth knowledge that the medical personnel hold, accept the recommend- ed treatment. These patients even might concur with the recommendation because they feel vulner- able, dependent, are afraid to refuse, or wish to please the staff. If the patient accepts the recom- mended transplant, as did the patient presented today, and if the medical or psychologic outcome is questionable, a pall might be cast on the original de- cision, with the medical staff experiencing uncom- fortable feelings of doubt, regret, or guilt. Accord- ingly, uncertainties regarding treatment choice pro- duce anxieties among the staff and can affect future medical decisions. Although these factors might or might not have been germane to the care of this pa- tient, we should take them into account. Depression, loss, and self-destructive behavior Almost every individual sustains a reactive de- pression when faced with a profound illness like renal failure and its treatment. This depression is manifest by a lowering of spirits and a reduction in self-esteem. Diagnosing depression in the renal pa- tient is difficult: the usual physiologic concomitants of depression such as changes in eating, sleeping, and bowel habits are difficult to evaluate in light of the patient's complex metabolic situation [10]. In- somnia, as in our patient, can lead to depression but also can be a manifestation of depression. The re- versal of diurnal patterns and other sleep disorders occur regularly in dialysis patients. Other psychologic symptoms of depression also defy measurement because of the presence of renal failure and its attendent psychosocial problems. For example, exaggerated dependency needs that ac- company depression could be confused with the ac- tual increased dependency of the renal patient. Guilt that accompanies depression could be mistak- en for other guilt, e.g., guilt over taking an organ from a recipient [11] or guilt over making new de- mands on the family. Depressive feelings of weak- ness or malaise cannot be evaluated, nor can de- creased mobility, narrowed interests, or reduced at- tention span, all of which can be nondepressive accompaniments of the illness or treatment. The suicidal thoughts our patient had are not uncom- mon. That does not mean these thoughts should be dismissed or ignored but that they should be consid- ered in the context of the total situation. Depression often occurs secondary to a loss—the loss of a relationship, a material loss, or even a sym- Emotional dehiscence after transplantation 391 bolic loss such as loss of pride or self-esteem. The renal patient experiences losses ranging from ne- phrectomy and the loss of body integrity and func- tion, to economic and occupational losses, food and sexual deprivation, disruption of recreational activi- ties, hospitalization with separation from family and friends, and the unpredictability of health. Ulti- mately, the patient realistically fears loss of life. At times, depression can be manifest by symp- toms of self-destructive behavior such as neglecting the dialysis access site, flaunting the diet, or drug abuse. In a recently published Nephrology Forum, the patient was admitted to the hospital after omit- ting her medication because of "emotional stress and depression" [121. Finally, increased suicide rates among hemo- dialysis patients result from the high incidence of depression in this group. Abram and his associates collected information from 3478 patients at 201 he- modialysis centers across the United States [13]. The incidence of suicide was more than 100 times the rate in the general population; about 5% of dial- ysis patients ended their lives by suicide. Medications I think it would be useful to review some of the general neuropsychiatric problems concerning the use of drugs in renal patients before discussing this patient's specific drug problem. In these patients, the number of drugs that can cause psychologic or neuropsychiatric disturbances are legion. Anti- hypertensive drugs often are implicated in mood or other disturbances. Drugs that can cause psycho- logic disorders are used routinely in renal patients, who might be psychiatrically unstable because of existing electrolyte and water imbalances, metabol- ic derangements derived from the renal disease, concomitant medical disorders, or the primary treatment itself. Our patient today was noted to be depressed during therapy with antihypertensive medication, although the specific drugs were not named. She was later reported to be depressed when given steroid therapy following trans- plantation. The degree to which the drugs were im- plicated in causing her depression was not men- tioned. Amitriptyline administered while the patient was undergoing dialysis led to improvement of her depression. The importance of selecting appropriate pharma- cologic agents leads me to a brief discussion of the use of psychotropic medication in the patient with renal failure [14, 15, 16, 171. The phenothiazines are metabolized by the liver, and only small quantities of unchanged drug are excreted in the urine. Gener- ally, only slight dosage modification is required; however, certain metabolic processes slow down in uremia, and drugs dependent on enzymatic degra- dation by the liver can reach toxic levels with nor- mal dosage. Phenothiazines should not be pre- scribed prior to dialysis because of the risk of hypo- tension. The anticholinergic effects of these compounds should be taken into account in patients already having difficulty with urination, such as those suffering from prostatic hypertrophy or neurogenic bladder. Diazepam, largely protein-bound, depends on liver metabolism for degradation to active and in- active metabolites, which then are excreted in the kidney. Metabolites can accumulate in patients with renal insufficiency, so diazepam should be used with care. Parenteral administration of diazepam in a patient on hemodialysis can cause hypotension or respiratory distress. Lithium is freely filtered across the glomerular membrane and is reabsorbed with water and sodium in the proximal tubule. It is also freely dialyzed. In the manic-depressive patient, the drug should be administered after dialysis; the dosage and serum lithium levels should be closely monitored both be- fore and after dialysis. Long-acting barbiturates should be avoided in patients with renal failure because these agents de- pend on renal function for excretion. Shorter-acting barbiturates are metabolized in the liver, and only small amounts of their active and inactive metabo- lites are excreted in the urine. Phenobarbital, a weak organic acid, exists in both ionized and un- ionized form depending on the pH of the tubule fluid. Raising the urinary pH transforms the drug into its nondiffusible (and nonreabsorbable) ionic form and increases its excretion in the urine. The tricyclic antidepressants are metabolized al- most entirely in the liver, and only small quantities of unchanged drug are found in the urine. A major dosage modification in renal patients, therefore, is not required. The drugs' cardiotoxic and anti- cholinergic effects must be kept in mind, however. Hypotension from these agents can aggravate car- diac and renal function. Because the antihyperten- sive effect of guanethidine can be blocked by anti- depressant medication, initial doses should be small and gradually increased. In our patient today, the use of amitriptyline was, at least temporarily, an effective treatment for depression. Addiction Given the high frequency and severity of depres- sion and physical suffering, as well as the neuropsy- 392 Nephro!ogy Forum chiatric problems due to drugs, the potential for drug abuse is ever present in renal patients. We have no explanation of how our patient became ad- dicted to narcotics. The word abuse was used, which suggests that there might not have been in- ordinate pain or other compelling medical in- dications for the narcotics used. Further, no infor- mation is available regarding the patient's psychiat- ric hospitalization or how her addiction was evaluated and managed. I presume that the patient complained of pain postoperatively, and that those complaints led to the original dispensing of Per- codan® and Percocet®, and subsequently to the perpetuation of her habit. It obviously would be dif- ficult to ignore the pleas and demands of this forlorn young woman who suffered a long series of losses and disappointments. Her passive suffering manner would include an inviting although unspoken de- mand for you to "do something" for her, to relieve her, to perhaps make up for her deprivations and deficiencies, and to do for her what the trans- plantation did not: make her feel better. Would nar- cotics relieve her? Early in her life this woman ex- perienced physical abuse from her alcoholic father; later, she took physical abuse from her medical dis- order and treatments. She appears similar to the passive, marginally functioning, orally dependent in- dividual we often consider predisposed to the devel- opment of a drug addiction. Our patient was admitted to the psychiatric unit because of drug abuse but was not withdrawn from narcotics. There is no clear explanation of why drug withdrawal did not take place. It certainly was not from lack of attention to the carefully counted 1345 Percodan® tablets dispensed over five and one-half months. Our patient was likely the victim of institu- tional and situational circumstance. If no medical indication for narcotics existed, the patient could have benefited from readmission to the Psychiatry Service, with a joint treatment plan, a specific drug- withdrawal schedule, and ongoing liaison between the nephrologists and the psychiatrists. Withdrawal from narcotics, however, might not have been accomplished with impunity: the addic- tion might have been used by the patient as an at- tempt to medicate herself for depression. After drug withdrawal, her depression would still require treat- ment. If possible, I would have reduced to a mini- mum her prednisone or other medications that might have contributed to her psychiatric symp- toms. Psychotherapy should be instituted to deal directly with the deprivations described in the his- tory and with the indignities of her disorder and treatment. The losses of the social worker and the dialysis unit staff, which duplicate the losses of her childhood, also should be explored. Family relationships This patient's family history is striking in that it describes a hostile and dependent relationship with the mother, the mother's two marriages and di- vorces (one divorce coincident with the onset of the nephritis), and a chaotic and unstable home life; yet there is no mention of the mother's involvement af- ter the patient became ill. The mother maintained a low profile in the history, if not in the actual life, of the patient. The mother's involvement certainly would profoundly affect the patient. If her mother had been busy with her own life, maintaining narcis- sistic investments and ensuring her own survival, and either subtly or overtly ignoring our patient, perhaps rejecting, diminishing, or even under- mining our patient, that would explain a missing piece of the puzzle. We then could understand the patient adopting an abandoned and self-destructive, if not martyred, position when feeling helplessly thrown to the devices of her disease, treatment, and caretakers. Neither narcotics nor individual mem- bers of the dialysis unit staff could make up for this important maternal deficiency. The patient's general relationship with her young- er brother, the kidney donor, also requires atten- tion. Guilt over taking her brother's kidney and oth- er psychic complications related to the donor-recip- ient relationship have to be explored. As we have seen in other organ recipients, patients can believe that their gains are at the expense of the donor. Any organ recipient can feel that the donor incurs a loss or suffers, and that the recipient lives at the donor's cost. Both kidney donor and recipient usually are aware of the donor's sacrifice—the small but real risk of developing renal insufficiency with a single kidney—and the recipient is well aware of what it means to suffer from renal disease. The issue of indebtedness is important in trans- plantation psychology. Ralph Waldo Emerson said: In nature, nothing can be given, all things are sold," This aptly describes the transplantation transaction and could apply to our patient, who thought that a dramatic psychologic as well as phys- iologic change would occur following trans- plantation. This notion, which sometimes exists in an even more elaborate form and occurs commonly in transplantation patients [111, should be explored and resolved. Other patients have developed severe intrapsychic conflicts concerning a kidney donated from someone of a different age group or the oppo- Emotional dehiscence after transplantation 393 site sex. Some patients believe that the new organ will transform them sexually or in some other fash- ion. The post-transplantation reality dispels fantasy and sometimes leads to severe disappointment or dejection. For the patient presented, psychotherapy in combination with antidepressant medication was indicated and might have proved successful. Ami- triptyline could have been prescribed again or re- placed with an equivalent antidepressant agent. Our patient's history contained a reference to her engagement, but we have no definitive statement re- garding the outcome of the relationship. Although she may have preferred her dependence on her mother to marriage, other reasons can explain why relationships of end-stage renal patients become strained or fail. One of these reasons is sexual dys- function. Sexual disorders in the uremic patient Over one-half of uremic men and over one-third of uremic women experience severe sexual dis- orders. Women undergoing hemodialysis report a marked decrease in frequency of intercourse and orgasm. In one study of 429 hemodialysis patients, approximately 60% of the men considered them- selves partially or totally impotent [18]. Faltering sexual performance that results from uremia is not helped by dialysis. Even though ure- mic patients can exhibit improvement in other so- matic functions, their sexual functioning can deteri- orate while they are being dialyzed. Kaplan de Nour reported that male patients' sexual function- ing deteriorated only after they were established on maintenance dialysis programs for an extended pe- riod [19]. A psychogenic cause of sexual dysfunction can- not be established until physical causes are ruled out. Renal dialysis patients are uremic and anemic, and most have hyperparathyroidism. Their access sites exaggerate circulatory and bleeding problems. Various hormonal abnormalities have been report- ed [20, 211. Women have menstrual changes; men have lowered sperm counts and reduced testicle size. Some men have reduced testosterone with normal luteinizing hormone levels; others have nor- mal testosterone accompanied by elevated lute- inizing hormone levels. At this time, it is unclear where along the hypothalamo-pituitary-gonadal axis the problems exist. Antoniou et al reported a study of a group of eight impotent male hemodialysis patients, four treated with zinc chloride added to their dialysis bath, and four maintained as controls [221. Three patients re- ceiving zinc reported a striking improvement in po- tency after 2 weeks. The fourth treated patient re- ported some improvement after 4 weeks, but no pa- tient recovered his predialysis level of sexual function. There was no change in sexual function in the control patients. Massry et al treated seven im- potent male hemodialysis patients with 1 ,25-dihy- droxycholecalciferol to suppress parathyroid activi- ty. [231. Four patients reported total recovery of sexual function, and one reported increased fre- quency of intercourse. However, to date no impres- sive statistical studies have been reported. Aids to the differential diagnosis of psychogenic versus organic impotence include plethysmographic studies of vaginal blood flow and temperature change in women and of nocturnal penile tumes- cence in men during the rapid eye movement (REM) phase of sleep [24]. How sexual function might have affected our patient and her relationship with her fiancé or with others is not stipulated in the history, but this information could shed light on her depression and psychologic state. If our transplant patient could have been with- drawn from narcotics and treated for depression, we then would have had a passive, orally dependent patient with a kidney transplant who was receiving prednisone and other drugs, a woman forlorn and distraught by her pre-existing personality and life history. Freud proposed that the best we can do is transform neurotic misery into common unhappi- ness [25]. Perhaps that is the most that is possible with this patient. In conclusion, this patient demonstrates the pro- found nexus between renal treatment and the psy- chology of the patient. She draws attention to the ways treatment can affect depression, family rela- tions, and sexual function, and points up the risks of drug abuse and addiction. Finally, she illustrates the psychiatric implications of the always difficult choice between hemodialysis and transplantation. Questions and Answers DR. J. T. HARRINGTON: We might gain a clearer understanding of the patient presented today through a detailed discussion of certain events. However, a case summary of 3, 10, or even 50 pages could not adequately trace the complex and difficult course of this patient over the last 2 to 3 years. Perhaps Dr. Bushinsky, who joined me in the management of this patient, might wish to comment on her addiction to narcotics, which developed fol- lowing kidney transplantation. 394 Nephrology Forum DR. DAVID BUSHINSKY (Renal Fellow, NEMCH): When the patient was discharged from the hospital, no narcotic drugs were included in her medications. She did quite well until we began to decrease her clinic visits. The patient then devel- oped calf pain and vague knee pain, which she said prevented her from returning to work. Her symp- toms were not typical of phlebitis and we did not want to hospitalize her for a full investigation. Nonetheless, the pain was chronic and we pre- scribed pain medication. It soon became obvious that the patient was abusing the medication; on three well-documented occasions she obtained ad- ditional medication by claiming that she had lost the prescription, when actually she had filled it at an- other pharmacy. We made many attempts to persuade the patient to avail herself of the drug-withdrawal program at this hospital, but she always found a reason com- pelling her to delay entering it for 3 or 4 weeks. We therefore chose to give her the pain medication she needed rather than risk her discontinuing predni- sone and azathioprine, thereby endangering her kid- ney transplant. We documented every pain tablet she took because we wanted to know the extent of her addiction. DR. HARRINGTON: The patient was withdrawn from Percodan and given methadone, but she has never been able to discontinue the methadone. She still travels approximately 150 miles daily to an out- patient methadone clinic. We were very concerned that if we broke our relationship with her by not giving her pain medication, she might have stopped taking the medications necessary to maintain the transplanted kidney. That actually occurred several years ago when a patient of mine discontinued tak- ing all medications and allowed a well-functioning kidney to be rejected so that she could return to the protective environment of the hemodialysis unit. DR. S. BASCH: Apparently, this patient is a ma- nipulative person. One can sense considerable dis- comfort among the medical staff because she influ- enced the therapeutic decisions. The term tyranny by the mentally ill" describes this uncomfortable situation, which is comparable to a child who threatens a temper tantrum if refused something by the parents. A possible approach to this patient's problem would be to hospitalize her for drug with- drawal and concentrated psychotherapy while over an extended period of time attempting to define with her the source and extent of her need for narcotics. Like your other patient, she might find the environ- ment of the dialysis unit preferable to working and functioning in the outside world; this is a typical re- sponse in patients with passive/dependent personal- ities. In any event, a very large commitment on the part of the Psychiatry Service would be required. DR. JOYCE ROOT (Liaison Psychiatrist to the Renal Service): I should like to comment on the pa- tient's admission to the psychiatric inpatient unit for treatment of depression and narcotic with- drawal. Before she was admitted, I had arranged with the residents that she be detoxified. Unfortu- nately, her admission coincided with the July change of house staff and she was able to convince the new house staff to continue giving her medica- tion. She then had no further interest in investigat- ing her depression and she ultimately left the in- patient unit extremely angry and still drug depen- dent. Ideally, she should have been admitted to a psychiatric unit equipped to provide extended in- patient milieu and individual psychotherapy fo- cused on her underlying depression. DR. J. J. COHEN: Several general issues are raised by our experience with this patient. You mentioned the difficulty of assessing depression during the course of dialysis because depressive symptoms so easily can be ascribed to other medi- cal concerns. Are there valid psychologic tests that can be used for discriminating between 'endoge- nous" depression and the depression that might stem simply from the dialysis experience itself'? DR. BASCH: Yes, psychologic tests can be helpful in obtaining a more objective evaluation of the pa- tient's mental status. An additional important factor in assessing the depression is its degree. Complete withdrawal from family and friends certainly is more significant than are low spirits. If the patient manifests symptoms of psychotic depression such as delusions, the problem is more likely pathologic than reactive. Many patients experience reactive depression during the first 6 months of dialysis ther- apy. It is so common that medical teams take it for granted. If the depression continues beyond the 6- month period, however, or if it lasts longer than 2 months, more attention should be paid to that as- pect of the patient's well being. DR. COHEN: Are different therapeutic strategies indicated for pathologic depression as compared to reactive depression? DR. BASCH: Yes. Because the patient is an indi- vidual, the therapeutic approach varies. Psycho- therapy should be employed whenever feasible. Some patients, however, can be treated more ef- fectively with antidepressive agents. We have treated manic-depressive patients with lithium, al- Emotional dehiscence after transplantation 395 though this has been difficult. We have even used electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) on occasion, espe- cially in patients whose cardiac function is com- promised and in whom the cardiotoxic tricyclic drugs are contraindicated. Electroconvulsive thera- py might be necessary in suicidal patients or in pa- tients whose clinical conditions are life threatening because they have stopped eating or taking care of themselves. Immediate intervention is necessary in this situation, and the tricyclic agents may not achieve effective levels for at least 2 weeks. DR. JAMES STROM (Renal Fellow, NEMCH): Are tricyclic drugs ever indicated in dialysis patients who have a simple mood disorder? DR. BASCH: Again, I think that patients should be evaluated individually. Some people remarkably adapt to dialysis with no depression at all. Some patients are able to use denial and other kinds of defenses to make the adjustment. When treatment is necessary. I hold that psychotherapy is prefer- able to the use of drugs. When psychotherapy fails, I think tricyclic agents can be used selectively, but not indiscriminately in the renal patient undergoing dialysis. DR. HARRINGTON: I would like to return to one of the questions that arose earlier: the use of psycho- logic tests. One of the problems we encounter in patients like this is predicting the effectiveness of nursing, medical, and psychiatric care. What specif- ic kinds of preoperative psychologic evaluation and screening should be performed to avoid the prob- lems we had in this patient? DR. BASCH: That is a very difficult question. Even with psychologic screening we might end up transplanting some problem patients. Further, you would not want to have excessively strict criteria. There are certain people who are going to be self- destructive. They either might be suicidal or self- destructive in other ways. A great deal of informa- tion can be gained from clinical observation. You may know from the clinical history without doing psychologic testing that these patients will under- mine their own treatment and that their transplants will not last. Their behavior on dialysis is a partial model for their sense of responsibility in taking care of themselves. One also can undertake formal psy- chologic examination, although we do not do this routinely. We have found that a striking number of patients have previously undetected low-grade or- ganic brain disease [261. I believe that it is more practical simply to rely on interviewing and close observation of the patient during the dialysis experi- ence. DR. COHEN: In treating patients with end-stage renal disease, one cannot help but be struck by how frequently serious psychiatric disease crops up. It almost seems that nature selects out psychological- ly weaker individuals to afflict with kidney disease. Obviously, this is not true. I think we would all agree that the stresses of this disease and its treat- ment allow for the expression of certain psycholog- ic weaknesses that would have remained dormant under ordinary circumstances. That being the case, psychiatric disease should be no more common in this group of patients than in other equally stressed groups. Are any data available to substantiate this view? DR. BASCH: I have never seen such data. How- ever, I will share my thoughts about it with you. Physicians treating individuals with end-stage renal disease get a lot closer to their patients and discover psychologic facts that would not become apparent in the ordinary intercourse of life. Further, special factors operate here that bring out and exaggerate conflicts and problems. The first is that a chronic severe illness is invariably regressive. Regression does bring out neurosis, the essence of which is de- rived from childhood. Second, these people who are uremic have altered mental states and tenuous mental faculties. There is a strong interplay, if not synergism, between their neurologic and psycho- logic cerebral function. Thus tendencies toward psychiatric illnesses might become manifest in an exaggerated way because of this interplay. DR. ROOT: I wonder whether you might comment about the problem of body image in this population of patients and how it relates to having an illness that can be cured by taking a body part from some- one else. DR. BASCH: The treatment of end-stage renal dis- ease is a circumstance in which the body is intruded on in very special ways [1, 11, 26, 27]. The idea of extracorporeal circulation is remarkable; some pa- tients describe it as "watching their body go by" as the blood circulates to and from the machine. Dis- tortions of the body image stem from being sub- jected to a myriad of procedures, including access- site procedures, peritoneal dialysis, and nephrecto- my. Freud said the ego is essentially a body ego. Our bodies dictate our sense of ourselves. How people experience life physically is very important in terms of the way they think about themselves. Renal patients have suffered so much mentally and physically that they perceive themselves as damaged, distorted, and at times worthless. This is reflected in a dream that was reported to me by a patient who 396 Nephrology Forum did not associate or interpret it. The patient is a black man in his forties who had worked as a packer in the garment industry. He reported "I had this dream and I couldn't tell where it took place. It was either in the dialysis unit or in the factory where I used to work in the garment industry. There were stacks of things around and I wasn't sure if it was dialysis equipment or fabric. There were people lined up and I wasn't sure if they were there to work in the fabric place or they were waiting for dialysis. There were people at the other end of the line in white coats but I couldn't tell what they were. They might have been doctors or nurses but they might have been the packers. I was in line with these people. Finally I decided that it was a dialysis unit and since I was a dialysis patient I felt relieved. But when we got up to the front of the line they packed the people inside of the boxes and tied the outside with dialysis tubing." He awakened at this point. Although there were no associations to the dream, it speaks for itself about the patient's sense of his body and himself, a notion shared by other dialysis patients, and perhaps by the patient presented today. Reprint requests to Dr. Samuel H. Basch, Department of Psy- chiatry, Mount Sinai School of Medicine, 100th Street and Fifth Avenue, New York. New York 10029. References 1. BASCH SH: Adaptation to dialysis and body image, Proc 5th ml Cong Nephrol Mexico 1972 3:211-215, 1974 2. BASCH SH: Psychological aspects of kidney transplant and dialysis procedures in the adolescent, in Handbook of Ado- lescent Psychiatry: A Psychodynamic Approach for Hospi- tal Management, edited by HEACOCK D, New York, Marcel Dekker, in press 3. BROWN F: Clinical psychology, in Comprehensive Textbook of Psychiatry, edited by FREEDMAN AM, KAPLAN HI, Balti- more, The Williams and Wilkins Company, 1967, pp. 1618- 1621 4. FEER H, THOELEN H, MASsINI MA, STAUB H: Hemo- dialysis in schizophrenia. Compr Psychiatry 1:338-344, 1960 5. WAGEMAKER H JR, CADE R: The use of hemodialysis in chronic schizophrenia. Am J Psychiatry 134:684-685, 1977 6. TYRRELL DAJ, PARRY Ti, CROW Ti, JOHNSTONE E, FER- RIER IN: Possible virus in schizophrenia and some neurolog- ical disorders. Lancet 1:839—841, 1979 7. CROW Ti, FERRIER IN, iOHNSTONE E, MACMILLAN iF, OWENS DGC, PARRY RP, TYRRELL DAi: Characteristics of patients with schizophrenia or neurological disorder and vi- ms-like agent in cerebrospinal fluid. Lancet 1:842—844, 1979 8. PORT FK, KROLL PD, SWARTZ RD: The effect of hemo- dialysis on schizophrenia: A survey of patients with renal failure. Am J Psychiatry 135:743—744, 1978 9. ASABA H, BERGSTROM i, FURST F, GORDON A, GROTH CG, OULES R, ZIMMERMAN L: The effect of renal transplantation on middle molecules in plasma and urine. C/in Nephrol 8:329—334, 1977 10. BASCH SH: Damaged self-esteem and depression in organ transplantation. Transplant Proc 5:1125—1127, 1973 11. BASCH SH: The intrapsychic integration of a new organ: A clinical study of kidney transplantation. Psychoanal Q 42:364—384, 1973 12. THIER SO: Nephrology Forum: Renal insufficiency and hy- percalcemia. Kidney mt 14:194—200, 1978 13. ABRAM HS, MooRE GL, WESTERVELT FB JR: Suicidal be- havior in chronic dialysis patients. Am J Psychiatry 127:1l99-l204, 1971 14. BENNETT W, SINGER I, C000INS CH: A guide to drug thera- py in renal failure. JAMA 230:1544-1553, 1974 15. KNEPSHIELD iH, et al: Dialysis of poisons and drugs—An- nual review. Trans Am Soc Artf Intern Organs 19:590-633, 1973 16. SHRADER RI, DIMAsCI0 A: Psychotropic Drug Side Ef- fects, Baltimore, Williams and Wilkins Company, 1970 17. STENZYL KH, REIDENBERG MM, RUBIN AL (Eds): Com- bined seminar on the use of drugs in renal failure. AmJ Med 62:527—554, 1977 18. LEVY NB: Sexual adjustment to maintenance hemodialysis and renal transplantation: National survey by questionnaire. Trans Am Soc Artif Intern Organs 19:138—143, 1973 19. KAPLAN DE NOUR A: Some notes on the psychological sig- nificance of urination. J Nerv Ment Dis 148:615—623, 1969 20. LIM VS, FANG VS: Gonadal dysfunction in uremic men. Am J Med 58:655—662, 1975 21. GUPTA D, BONDSCHU HD: Testosterone and its binding in plasma of male subjects with chronic renal failure. C/in Chim Acta 36:479—484, 1972 22. ANTONIOU L, SHALHOUB Ri, SUDHAKAR T, SMITH iC, iR: Reversal of uraemic impotence by zinc. Lancet 2:895—898, 1977 23. MASSRY SG, GOLDSTEIN DA, PROCCI WR, KLETZKY OA: Impotence in patients with uremia: A possible role for para- thyroid hormone. Nephron 19:305-310, 1977 24. FISHER C, SCHIAVI RC, EDWARDS A, DAvis DM, REITMAN M, FINE J: Evaluation of nocturnal penile tumescence in the differential diagnosis of sexual impotence: A quantitative study. Arch Gen Psychiatry 36:43 1—437, 1979 25. BREUER J, FREUD S: Studies on hysteria, in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud, edited by STRACHEY J, London, The Hogarth Press, 1955, p. 305 26. BASCH SH: Observations on body image in renal patients, in Psychological Factors in Hemodialysis and Transplanta- tion, edited by LEVY NB, New York, Plenum Publishing Corp., in press 27. BLACHER RS, BASCH SH: Psychological aspects of pacema- ker implantation. Arch Gen Psychiatry 22:319—323, 1970 
work_7ewgly663zfohazdjd4mqkp6v4	----	© 2013 Taylor & Francis. This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Ethics and Education on 23/10/13, available online: http://wwww.tandfonline.com/ 10.1080/17449642.2013.842752 Satisfaction, Settlement and Exposition: Conversation and the University Tutorial Amanda Fulford Department of Secondary Education, Leeds Trinity University, Leeds, United Kingdom Brownberrie Lane Horsforth Leeds LS18 5HD UK a.fulford@leedstrinity.ac.uk mailto:a.fulford@leedstrinity.ac.uk - 2 - Abstract In this paper I consider the tutorial conversation in Higher Education. To focus the discussion I use the scenario of a tutorial conversation between a lecturer and a student. I begin by suggesting that the increasing emphasis placed on student satisfaction in certain Higher Education Institutions tends to focus the tutorial conversation towards a form of settlement that I then consider in light of Thoreau’s Walden. To explore what other conversation might be possible, I turn to the philosophical writing of Martin Buber. I discuss his ‘life of dialogue’ in relation to the distinction he draws between I - Thou and I - It and to how Nancy Vansieleghem and Jan Masschelein analyse this in relation to the 2002 film, Le Fils. With reference to the film adaptation of Alan Bennett's The History Boys I suggest a different starting point for the tutorial conversation. I conclude that the tutorial discussion, seen as an invitation to speak, and as a form of exposition and dialogue, is the possibility of the opening up of a new dimension of thinking and acting. This is the invitation to a conversation in education that is itself truly educative. - 3 - Scenario Tutor: I saw from your email yesterday that you wanted to talk about your assignment for the module on research methods; that’s fine, but tell me exactly what you want to focus on in this tutorial. Student: Yeah, I know you went through the structure and the writing guidelines for the assessment in the last session, and I can follow that, but I want to check if my plans for the research proposal are right. Tutor: Do you mean that you’re not sure whether your research proposal is feasible? Student: Erm, I’m not sure really. I just want to make sure that what I’m going to do will be ok and that I’ll be able to collect the data I need and that it will be enough. Tutor: It is important to make sure that your plans for the research are manageable for you. In research it’s often not easy to say that one approach is ‘right’, and therefore that another is ‘wrong’ in some way. But let’s leave that aside. At this stage we need to make sure that you feel happy with what you’re doing, so let’s look at your plans. I seem to remember that you’re hoping to conduct a focus group, is that right? Student: Yeah – I was going to tape it so that I didn’t miss anything when I came to do the analysis. Tutor: Ok, but have you tried this out, piloted this yet? It’s really difficult to tape a group of people taking, and then identify the different voices when people are interrupting and talking over one another. This could potentially make the analysis much more difficult. I’d suggest that you made a video of the focus group; this would make things much easier to manage when you came to do the analysis as you’d have the visual and the audio data to go on. This would help you to untangle the various ideas as they were discussed and differentiate the voices and contributions more easily. Student: And so if I do that, and discuss why I’ve done it that way, will that be ok? Tutor: Well, you need to make sure that you’ve given a clear rationale for your choice of approach to data collection. You would need to justify your choices with reference to some literature that you’ve read on conducting focus groups. That will help you meet this learning outcome [Tutor points the student to a section in the module handbook] Student: Ok, I’ll do that. So, if I amend my data collection method like you said, and put in some references, that will be ok? Tutor: In that section, yes. The more reading and criticality you can work into your assignment, the better, but making those changes will mean you’re doing what’s needed for a grade in the ‘pass’ band. Look, here it says: ‘Students demonstrate a sound understanding of the principles and limitations of their chosen approach to research’ [Tutor points to a section of the marking criteria in the module handbook]. Are you happy with that? Student: Yep – Thank you! - 4 - Satisfying Talk: Conversations in the University Tutorial In this paper I give attention to how the current discourse of ‘student satisfaction’ in some universities plays out in the tutorial conversation. I use the word ‘tutorial’ here to refer to the one-to-one meeting that a tutor has with her tutee to discuss course content, concepts, or often how the student should approach the course essay or assignment. Such a tutorial is distinct from the kind of discussion that a student might have with a designated ‘personal tutor’ to address sensitive issues that might be affecting study, from the ‘Oxford tutorial’ (common in a small number of élite English universities), and from group tutorials or seminars that form part of the delivery of a course. It is common to think of the one-to-one university tutorial as offering the space for a dialogue that enables the student to engage with the ideas and concepts to which she has been introduced: in short, it is to provide a space for what Kala Retna et al. (2009) describe as ‘intellectual growth’ (2009: 253). However, such a laudable aim is, I argue, often at risk of being hijacked by the pressing need for the tutorial to result in a kind of student ‘satisfaction’. Satisfaction with the student experience is now, as Elizabeth Staddon and Paul Standish identify, ‘reiterated, as if de rigueur, in university policy statements and in the burgeoning literature on student satisfaction’ (2012: 631). Such satisfaction in this context is characterised by a lack or ‘want’ (of resources, of clarity or of understanding). Satisfaction, and the related concepts of happiness and well-being, are not new fields of enquiry: philosophers since Socrates have considered happiness as experienced through the virtuous life. There has been, though, in recent years, an upsurge in the numbers of popular self-help texts on happiness and life satisfaction (eg Pryce- Jones 2010; Summers and Watson 2006), international comparative studiesi and work from within more academic fields such as psychology, all of which are concerned in some way with strategies for happiness (Lyubomirsky 2010). - 5 - Measuring Student Satisfaction Higher Education has not been exempt from this trend towards foregrounding improvements in the student experience, student wellbeing and, in particular, student satisfaction. The marketising of Higher Education, with its focus on league tables and student surveys, has inevitably led to an increased emphasis on measuring student satisfaction. In the UK, this emphasis is most clearly expressed in the importance accorded by universities to the annual National Student Survey (NSS). The NSS, commissioned by the Higher Education Funding Council for England (HEFCE) has, since 2005, gathered data annually on the quality of undergraduate courses in UK universities.ii The NSS websiteiii headlines the fact that in 2012 satisfaction rates were up on the previous year in every area surveyed. Overall satisfaction stood at 86%, with big improvements in academic support (up from 70% to 79% of students who were ‘definitely or mostly satisfied’). Only 8% were dissatisfied and the data shows the highest ever satisfaction ratings since the survey’s inception. Even the lowest figure is stable (55% of full-time students rated the promptness of feedback as definitely or mostly satisfactory, - an increase of 1% on the 2011 figures).iv Satisfaction and the University Tutorial Increasingly the university tutorial has become one of the key contexts in which student satisfaction can be addressed (Retna et al. 2009). With a whole section of the NSS dedicated to ‘academic support’, it is not surprising that tutors are charged with ensuring that the student leaves the tutorial ‘satisfied’. Clearly this is working: 78% of students responded with the most positive indicators to the statement: ‘I have received sufficient advice and support with my studies’. But this empirical data begs a number of important questions. First, how can satisfaction with, say, access to IT facilities (one of the sub- - 6 - questions asked under ‘Learning Resources’ in the NSS), be understood - or measured – in the same way as satisfaction with one’s education (questioned under the sub-headings of ‘Teaching’ and ‘Learning’)? Second, what is the nature of the satisfaction being measured? Let me initially address the second of these questions. The understanding of satisfaction that appears to underpin these somewhat crude measures is a very narrow one. It equates with a form of contentment, with the positive and happy feelings that derive from everything being settled. I suggest that in the scenario that opens this paper, the tutorial conversation is characterised by such satisfying talk, the kind that is a form of settlement: of closing down and securing. Perhaps the etymology of the word ‘conversation’ is useful in illustrating the point here. The Latin roots indicate that in ‘con-versation’, we ‘turn’ (vertere) ‘with’ (cum) others. There is a sense of accord here that is entirely absent from conversation’s common synonym, ‘discussion’ with its roots in the Latin discutere meaning ‘to strike asunder’ and from dis (apart) and quartere (to shake).v Student satisfaction, in the tutorial context, derives from a conversation (rather than a discussion) which is based on the contentmentvi derived from knowing exactly what is required to gain a pass mark in an assignment, or to achieve a certain degree classification. For the tutor, a tutorial conducted in this way gives assurance that the student, satisfied with the discussions, subsequently evaluates the module well, and scores ‘Academic Support’ highly in the next survey of satisfaction. This satisfaction discourse is indicative of the ways in which both the tutor and the student (in the scenario) tend to think, and of the power of certain discourses to authorise such thinking. It is as if these discourses have a stifling effect. This is not to say that student satisfaction is, in itself, not an appropriate topic of discussion in the university. - 7 - Nor is it the case that ensuring that students have the information necessary for them to perform to their best ability in all forms of assessment is not a right and proper approach. It is rather to draw attention to where the blinkered pursuit of the prestige that high levels of student satisfaction brings gets in the way of other kinds of thinking or talking. Furthermore, where there is an ineluctable link between satisfaction and the student’s assessment, there is a tendency for the tutor to restrict her conversation with students to what is required to pass the module assessment. For her part, the student – keen to pass the assignment and gain a good degree classification – wants to take advantage of the tutorial to be assured of what she must do to pass. Whilst the student must meet the all- important learning outcomes, a conversation dominated by such issues neglects other (less easily measured) matters such as what it is to learn, what it is that one still has to learn, and how our education can be pursued through conversation with another. But in a culture which obsesses with student satisfaction, these thorny issues are settled into more palatable, ‘student-friendly’ sound bites such as ‘The course has helped me to present with confidence’ and ‘My communication skills have improved’. Settling To return to our scenario, this type of talk is satisfying because of the way in which it ‘settles’ thinking. This theme of settlement is one that is taken up in the transcendentalist literature of Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson. In these writers’ work, especially in Thoreau, human becoming is marked by ideas of leaving, departure and sojourning, that are described in terms of a lack of settlement. In Walden (Thoreau 1854/1999), Thoreau espouses a way of living, thinking (and crucially of using languagevii) that disrupts ideas of security and settlement. He writes: ‘I was more independent than any farmer in Concorde, for I was not anchored to a house or a farm, but could follow the bent of my genius’(p. 51), and later: ‘You want room for your thoughts - 8 - to get into sailing trim and run a course or two before they make their port’ (p. 127). Such ideas are also central to Emerson’s perfectionismviii: our journeying (through education or cultivation) to a further state of becoming, of the self. This journeying is a necessary part of one’s becoming; it is in the constant losing of the self (characterised by a lack of settlement and by leaving) that is its finding. But we should not see Emerson’s perfectionism in terms of some kind of developmental model. The perfectionist journey cannot be described with reference to particular delineated stages; it rather requires that ‘A man should learn to detect and watch the gleam of light that flashes across his mind from within’ (Emerson 1841/2003: 267). Branka Arsić (2010) highlights the significance of the concept of leaving to Emerson’s writing on the perfection of the self. She writes that for Emerson, ‘To allow for change, to abandon the stationary, to overcome the fear of rupture, and to face interruption are all, in fact modes of leaving where and what one is’ (p. 3). For Arsić, Emerson’s ‘ontology of becoming is fundamentally … an ontology of leaving’ (p. 5). In terms of the tutorial conversation, I do not want to generalise here and to claim that tutorial conversations are characterised per se by such settling talk. I do want to emphasise, though, that such conversations are indicative of a particular culture within some universities. It is as if something in this culture steeps those who pass through it in particular ways of thinking and talking that block and force out other ways. But just as certain topics of conversation are ‘allowed’, others are off-limits, excluded. At one point, the tutor in our scenario hints at a broader issue that might lead to fruitful discussions with the student: whether it is possible to say that certain approaches to empirical research are ‘right’ or ‘wrong’; but then this discussion is abandoned with the comment: ‘But let’s leave that aside’. - 9 - Such a settling of conversation happens certainly because of the time constraints, but may also be indicative of a certain cultural expectation, a preoccupation with the latest drive to improve satisfaction and to enhance the student experience at the expense of a space for speaking about the trickier issues of learning one’s subject and with ‘intellectual growth’. What would it be like, for example, if the tutorial conversation were to run along these lines: ‘I hear what you say about the assignment, and about the learning outcomes, but let me ask you another question: What do you think research is for? Why should universities give attention to it in the way they do?’ What I am drawing attention to here is a re- thinking of the tutorial discussion that goes beyond a conversation driven by accountability and service-level agreements. It is to ask whether an unsettling education can be a satisfying one.ix Martin Buber and the ‘Life of Dialogue’ Martin Buber (1958, 1961) writes about how our human relationships are played out by way of our encounters with each other and with language through a ‘life of dialogue’ (1961: 37). In contrasting the life of dialogue with one of monologue, Buber claims that the ‘basic movement – or essential action of the former is the act of “turning to the other”’ (1961: 40). But this kind of dialogue is not to be equated with endless conversation. As he writes: ‘The most eager speaking at one another does not make a conversation’ (1961: 19). Whilst this would be a speaking of sorts, it is only genuine dialogue when: [E]ach participant really has in mind the other, or others, in their present and particular being, and turns to them with the intention of establishing a living mutual relation between himself and them. (1961: 20) For Buber, such an encounter is indicative of an I-Thou relationship, one characterised by mutuality and exchange. In contrast, Buber outlines how ‘technical dialogue, prompted solely by the need of objective understanding’ (1961: 37), constructs individuals as - 10 - objects to be used to serve particular interests. Such dialogues, and such relationships, are described in terms of I-It. So let me return to the tutorial scenario that opened this paper. Do the questions that the student asks, and the responses the tutor gives, betray a form of what Buber calls ‘technical dialogue, a conversation prompted solely by the need of objective understanding’ (1961: 37)? In our scenario, this objective understanding focuses on what is needed to pass the assignment. But for either party to try to change the conversation, without actually engaging with the life of dialogue, would be an artificial move; it would, in Buber’s words, be ‘monologue disguised as dialogue’ (1961: 37). To be in dialogue, though, is necessarily to be engaged in an un-settling conversation; to ‘speak from being to being’ (Buber 1961: 39), writes Buber, is to be exposed to the other; it is a risk, and it is unsettling. Conversation and Exposition: Let me develop this idea of unsettling with reference to Le Fils, a French film from 2002 directed by the brothers Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne. The plot concerns a carpenter, Olivier Gourmet, whose young son was brutally murdered. Some years later we see Olivier working as a joinery tutor at a training centre. Olivier agrees to take on a boy, Francis Thorion, as a trainee. Olivier finds out from the training centre records that Francis is in fact the boy who murdered his son, and has just been released from prison. The majority of the film shows their developing relationship and conversation. In their discussion of le Fils, Nancy Vansieleghem and Jan Masschelein draw attention to a kind of speaking that disrupts the idea of communication as mediation, self-empowerment or exchange, in favour of what they call ‘speaking that exposes us to what happens, to what is present’ (2012: 90). They argue that the film illustrates this particular kind of speaking - 11 - that ‘implies the need to abandon and be abandoned. It requires the willingness to put oneself … at stake, to free oneself from oneself, to see and think differently’ (p. 90). Such speaking is a form of ‘exposition’, not in the sense of a laying out a point of view, but rather an: ‘“ex-position” - that is, a speaking that puts one out of position … a movement outside or beyond oneself’ (p.87). If Olivier were to engage in the kind of discourses and practices that emphasise dialogue and communication, then he might well want to demand of Francis why he killed his son. He might feel some claim to a right to such information, and feel that Francis is obliged to provide it. Some form of satisfaction could come from this.x Instead, the kind of speaking in which Olivier engages is such that he is put out of position. In many ways he is simply exposed to what happens: to Francis’ arrival at the training centre, to the questions Francis asks in learning his craft, to his plea for Olivier to become his guardian. When Olivier does speak, it is not to engage in conversation aimed at settling matters, or conversation concerned with ‘the world of causalities, explanations and the accumulation of knowledge’ (Vansieleghem and Masschelein 2012: 92); rather he says to Francis: ‘Je veux juste qu’on parle’ (‘I just want to speak with you’). This speaking does not suggest the I- It relationship that has its basis in the world of objects; it has rather the characteristics of I-Thou. As Buber writes: ‘I do not experience the man to whom I say I-Thou. But I take my stand in relation to him’ (1958: 22). It is not that there is a method here, a set of procedures that must be followed or a technique that can be taught or learned. The speaker puts herself rather than the object of the conversation at stake, and in this is the ‘abandoning of any comfortable security’ (Vansieleghem and Masschelein 2012: 85). A conversation for education - 12 - So how might we think, then, of the extract of conversation in our opening scenario? In one sense, there is nothing at all wrong with it. Advice is given and, it appears, understood and eagerly accepted by the student. An observer may think that this tutorial conversation is exemplary: the student is encouraged to contribute; she is given specific feedback in relation to the module learning outcomes, and the targets are SMART.xi The student might have every right to be satisfied in some respects: the thorny issues are ironed out, her plans are validated and the pass mark is likely assured. All is settled – Thoreau might say ‘sedimented’.xii To continue with this analogy, though, what would it be like if the sediment were stirred up? What life would come from the silt? In this is the possibility for an education where the discussion, rather than settling rights and obligations, is ‘an abandoning or exposing of oneself, is about giving and accepting words, about inspiring and being inspired’ (Vansieleghem and Masschelein 2012: 97). Such a discussion is one in which both the student and the tutor are put at stake, just as both Francis and Olivier are exposed to what happens. This is the outcome of the ‘life of dialogue’. In the exposure of this discussion is a space for education. So how might this kind of discussion be initiated and continued in the current culture of some universities, and could this unsettling discussion be satisfying? In the scenario, the starting point for the tutorial is the student’s work and her concerns about passing the assessment. It is from this point that the conversation runs its unswerving course towards its ultimate goal where the tutor asks ‘Are you happy with that?’ and the student replies ‘Yep – Thank you!’ But what if the starting point of such tutorial discussions were not the student’s work; what if it were a text or a film, a picture or a piece of music? And what if the physical space for this discussion were not the confines of the academic office or the seminar room? Just as in Thoreau’s Walden, the stirring up of the sediment is a physical action (as is his building of the hut, his hoeing of the beans and his plumbing of the pond), - 13 - are the conditions for the un-settling of our thinking and speaking to be found outside the tutorial room? In a scene from the 2006 film adaptation of Alan Bennett’s The History Boysxiii. Irwin, the teacher parachuted in to give the boys, in the Headmaster’s words, ‘polish … edge’, takes a history lesson on the First World War. Instead of being in the classroom, the boys are seen sitting in a circle on the grass in the school grounds. Dorothy (who teaches history) and Hector (general studies), watch from a window as Irwin takes the boys for a walk and Dorothy comments ‘Oh, going walk-about’. The boys have prepared essays and are being given feedback, much like in the tutorial scenario. But in the film the essays are left in the classroom and the boys gather around a war memorial, and starting with Philip Larkin’s poem, MCMXIV, discuss not only history, but truth, art and then relationships. Irwin, cognisant of the pressure of time, needs to ensure that they pass the exam. But his approach (which attempts to disrupt the boys’ ideas of what makes for a good history essay – at least for the Oxbridge entry exam) seems still imbued with the same kind of settling discourse. Hector’s approach, on the other hand, seems largely unaffected by the upcoming examinations. Let us consider briefly the following short extract of dialogue from a discussion on poetry: Hector: And now for some poetry of a more traditional sort. Timms: Oh, God! Hector: Er, Timms, w-w-what is this? Timms: Sir, I don’t always understand poetry. Hector: You don’t always understand it? Timms, I never understand it. But learn it now, know it now, and you will understand it, whenever. Timms: I don’t see how we can understand it. Most of the stuff poetry’s about hasn’t happened to us yet. Hector: But it will Timms, it will. And when it does, you’ll have the antidote ready. Grief, happiness, even when you’re dying. We’re making your deathbeds here, boys. Hector is here acknowledging that learning cannot be understood wholly in terms of having particular facts worked out or settled. It is rather that not knowing allows one to - 14 - embark on a journey, one that, though unpredictable, might ultimately be more satisfying. Ian Munday, writing about this same extract, puts it like this: It is not to say that the boys will take ownership of a poem’s meaning and be able to nicely fit it into a conceptual schema .... Rather, it is the acknowledgement that the poem will transform and take on different meanings as both Hector’s and the student’s experience of the world changes and also, that the poem might generate or shape those experiences—that with the poem, they will go on a nomadic, rhizomatic and unpredictable journey (2012:56). Perhaps we can conclude, then, by saying that there is little wrong with measuring student satisfaction with issues such as the provision of computer facilities or the menu in the cafeteria, by means of a simple rating scale. However, satisfaction with one’s learning goes beyond what can be measured by means of simple numerical scales; it can come from discussions that do not seek to solve, but rather to acknowledge the situation in which the student finds herself. It is discussion in which there is the possibility of ‘a form of learning that intensifies or unsettles desires rather than simply aspiring to satisfy them’ (Staddon and Standish 2012: 631). Such learning would surely be characterised by the kind of tutorial discussion seen in terms of Buber’s distinction between Thou and It. The world of It, he writes, moves man: to look on the world of It as the world in which he has to live, and in which it is comfortable to live, as the world, indeed, which offers him all manner of incitements and excitements, activity and knowledge. In this chronicle of solid benefits the moments of the Thou appear as strange lyric and dramatic episodes, seductive and magical, but tearing us away to dangerous extremes, loosening the well-tried context, leaving more questions than satisfaction behind them (1958: 50-51). **** - 15 - References Arsić, B., 2010. On leaving: A reading in Emerson. Cambridge MA: Harvard University Press. Buber, M., (1958), I and thou, Transl. Roland Gregor Smith. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark. Buber, M., (1961), Between man and man, Transl. Roland Gregor Smith. London: Collins. Emerson, R. W., 1841/2003. Selected writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Ed. William H. Gilman. London: Penguin Books Ltd. Lyubomirsky, S., 2010. The how of happiness: A practical guide to getting the life you want. London: Piatkus. Munday, I., 2012. Roots and rhizomes – some reflections on contemporary pedagogy. Journal of Philosophy of Education 46,1: 42 - 59. Pryce-Jones, J., 2010. Happiness at work: Maximising your psychological capital for success. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell. Retna, K., Chong, E., and Cavana, R.Y., 2009. Tutors and tutorials: students’ perceptions in a New Zealand university. Journal of Higher Education Policy and Management 31, no. 3: 251 – 260. Staddon, E., and Standish, P., 2012. Improving the student experience. Journal of Philosophy of Education. 46, no. 4: 631 – 648. Summers, H., and Watson, A., 2006. The book of happiness: Brilliant ideas to transform your life. Oxford: Wiley. Thoreau, H. 1854/1999. Walden. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Vansieleghem, N., and Masschelein, J., 2012. Education as invitation to speak: On the teacher who does not speak, Journal of Philosophy of Education. 46, 1: 85 - 99. i See, for example the OECD’s Life Satisfaction survey [ONLINE], Available at: http://www.oecdbetterlifeindex.org/topics/life-satisfaction/, Accessed 3rd December 2012. ii The NSS measures student opinion – using a six item rating scale – in seven core areas: teaching; assessment and feedback; academic support; organisation and management; learning resources; personal development; overall satisfaction. A further eight optional questions (using the same rating scale) cover - 16 - satisfaction with: careers; course content and structure; work placements; social opportunities; course delivery; feedback from students; physical environment and welfare services. iii The National Student Survey, [ONLINE], Available at: < http://www.thestudentsurvey.com/index.html#.UcBCsWfdWOE>, Accessed June 18th 2013. iv Statistical data is published as 2012 National Student Survey Summary Data, [ONLINE], Available at: < http://www.hefce.ac.uk/whatwedo/lt/publicinfo/nationalstudentsurvey/nationalstudentsurveydata/2012/>, Accessed June 18th 2013. v See the dictionary entry, [ONLINE], Available at: < http://etymonline.com/?term=discussion>, Accessed June 21st 2013. vi The association of ‘satisfaction’ with ‘contentment’ dates from the sixteenth century. Earlier uses, dating from c.1300 relate to the act of a Church authority in satisfying, or atoning for, sin and later for satisfying a debt or creditor, [ONLINE], Available at: <,http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?allowed_in_frame=0&search=satisfaction&searchmode=none> Accessed May 28th 2013. vii In Walden Thoreau uses the notions of the ‘mother tongue’ and ‘father tongue’ to describe our human relationship to language (1954/1999: 93). A father tongue relationship to language comprises a different economy of living, one that is characterised by a lack of settlement and security – and is a distinctive way of living with our words as individuals and as part of a community of speakers, readers and writers of language. Paul Smeyers, Paul Standish, and Richard Smith see in Walden a text that proposes an economy of living that is not to be understood as mere self-sufficiency, but as a call to a form of education, an uncommon-schooling. This economy of living is characterised by what they call ‘the realizing of a language (or the possibility of a language) that can provide the conditions for the economy that he [Thoreau] seeks’ (2007: 126). viii By ‘perfectionism’, Emerson means an orientation towards a better self. Because it has no finality, it is always partial and on its way; it is to be contrasted with an idea of perfectibility. ix I take the term ‘un-settle’ here to mean disrupting, confounding, making uneasy (of thoughts and ideas); this should be seen in contrast to the ‘unsettling’ (upsetting, making anxious) of an individual. Whilst I am not advocating that tutorials should set out to unsettle (to upset) students, the un-settling of ideas might result in a disconcerting of the student that is opens up new ways of thinking and therefore is, as such, educative. x Compare again the etymology of ‘satisfaction’ in terms of atonement. Just as the confession is the means of absolution in the Catholic Church, Francis’ confession to Olivier, understood in the dialogic sense that Vansieleghem and Masschelein outline (and to which their notion of speaking as ‘ex position’ contrasts) is a form of satisfaction. xi A commonly used mnemonic for setting targets: Specific, Measurable; Attainable; Relevant; Timely. xii Thoreau, writing of the pond in Walden, makes numerous references to the physical sediment in Walden Pond. He also uses this imagery to signal what he saw as the sedimenting (or settling, lifelessness) of thinking and of society more generally. xiii The film’s action is set in the fictional Cutlers’ Grammar School in Sheffield in the early 1980s. A group of high achieving boys are completing an additional year to prepare for the Oxford or Cambridge entrance examinations and interview. Under the supervision of the ambitious Headmaster, the boys are taught by Hector for General Studies and Irwin, a contract teacher, who works alongside Dorothy Linott, the Deputy Head, to prepare them in History. http://www.thestudentsurvey.com/index.html#.UcBCsWfdWOE http://www.hefce.ac.uk/whatwedo/lt/publicinfo/nationalstudentsurvey/nationalstudentsurveydata/2012/ http://etymonline.com/?term=discussion 
work_7gom4jzgbjh65ceeo7dxwrmy4m	----	0255.qxd 255 Editor’s note: This article is adapted from the address of the American Diabetes Association President, Health Care & Education, given in June 2004 at the Association’s 64th Annual Meeting and Scientific Sessions in Orlando, Fla. I would like to share the wisdoms, passions, and lessons I have learned from the educators and other volun- teers I have met during my term as the American Diabetes Association (ADA) President, Health Care & Education this past year. My message has three focus areas: 1. The joy of the journey—the places we, the ADA, have been, 2. The people I have met and with whom I have shared information and diabetes education opportuni- ties, and 3. The wisdoms I have come to live by through this experience. The Places We Have Been Theodore Seuss Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, has been a constant source of inspiration for me. His themes (Goodness triumphs. Bad is put down. People are good. The world can be improved.) have been my guide. In March 2004, we com- memorated his 100th birthday. A theme park was created in his honor in his hometown of Springfield, Mass., near my own home and work. The park featured one of his famous children’s books, “Oh the Places You Will Go,” from which I will draw the closing words for this article. My journey as an ADA officer was driven by my passion to make a dif- ference. This passion was well- matched when I first became involved with the ADA and joined volunteers on their own journey to making an everyday difference in the lives of those affected by diabetes. This shared mission has had a strong influence on the person I am today. Former U.S. President Ronald Reagan once said, “Life begins when you begin to serve.” With this as my inspiration, my volunteer life in the ADA began. I have had the opportu- nity to serve as an ADA leader in two states, Minnesota and Connecticut, as well as at the national level. Through these experiences, I have seen first- hand the growth and, yes, some strug- gles, within our organization. I served as President of the Minnesota Affiliate, one of the first nurses to serve in this capacity. In Connecticut, I was the first President, Health Care & Education of the Eastern Region (now known as the Northeast Region). Each role involved charting new courses for diabetes health pro- fessionals, new avenues from the orig- inal ADA organizational structure, and new opportunities far from the traditional roles of nurses and other health professionals. This was a time of great growth, organizational change, and transition, which led us to our current communi- ty leadership councils. As Dr. Seuss would have said, “Oh, the places we have been!” I have seen the role of health edu- cators expand and gain recognition within the larger diabetes and health care community. ADA is the only vol- untary health organization to publicly recognize its health professional edu- cators by creating a position like President, Health Care & Education. Never in my early career would I have guessed that I would come to serve as one of the officers of the ADA and to be honored with the title “Madame President.” The People I Have Met I am often asked about my travels during this year. How many miles? To which cities, states, countries have I traveled? When I reflect on this, my thoughts aren’t about the places I have gone. Rather, I think of the peo- ple I have met, the commitment I have witnessed, the heartfelt stories I have heard, the issues and opportunities for education we have discussed together, and my hopes that I have helped to make a difference. My heart guided me to the mission of the ADA, that is, to make a differ- ence and instill pride in the work and achievements of the organization. One of my goals has been to make a differ- ence in every community across the country by meeting and supporting our leadership councils at every opportunity. Another focus has been to increase opportunities for primary care providers to add to their knowledge base about diabetes, to enhance their own education and the clinical care and education they provide their patients, while increasing their awareness of the services ADA offers to them. In addition, I have tried to explain to colleagues and provide myself as a model to illustrate how our associa- tion has broadened its audience and continues to reach out to more part- ners in the United States and abroad to bring its message to all health pro- fessionals and to those affected by dia- betes. The ADA has expanded its focus to address prevention issues, particularly with regard to prediabetes and the increase in type 2 diabetes among our nation’s youth. Our advo- cacy efforts continue to be instrumen- tal in helping improve health care, fight discrimination, and increase the federal government’s commitment to Special Report Diabetes Spectrum Volume 17, Number 4, 2004 An ADA Educational Journey: The Places We Have Been, Oh, the Places We Will Go! Carolé R. Mensing, RN, MA, CDE 256 diabetes research. We’ve stepped up outreach activities at the community level to reach people with diabetes, their family members and friends, and their health care providers with vital information to improve care. We have continued to form partnerships with other agencies to help our communi- ties prevent disease and achieve healthier lifestyles. Knowledge is indeed power. One of my overriding communica- tions objectives was to mention my passion and focus on education in every interview and at every presenta- tion. I observed other educators carry- ing out this objective, as well. It is the educational product or offering that provides the foundation for successful outcomes, and our patients’ health is our most desired outcome. In addition to my efforts to enhance the association’s visibility, I made it a priority to work collaboratively and seamlessly with my colleagues and principal officers, James A. Horbowicz and Dr. Eugene J. Barrett, and with our executive committee. We embarked on this journey together, as a team. Independently, we have pur- sued our own paths, but always toward a common purpose: furthering the work and mission of the ADA. Those who know me best know that I try always to have fun, to take comfort in my music, to enjoy the magic of each moment, to continu- ously improve, and most importantly, to do good (or, in other words, to do no harm). I try to live by the words of one of my mentors and esteemed col- leagues, Marion Franz, who has been known to say, “Attend to your pas- sion with good humor, and add fun. Then remember to do the work, but cheerfully.” To each of you, I offer similar advice: Stay the course, yet have fun in all aspects of your life. The people I have met include all of you—the health care professionals who celebrate our common passion every day. We revel in the glory of our professions and share in the joy of honoring our colleagues who have participated in leadership for the organization and served as role mod- els for other educators. How can any- one fully acknowledge all of the won- derful people who willingly serve the ADA? Our shared mission is not about any of us individually, but rather it is about the people in all of the communities that have been touched by the many faces of the ADA as a whole. I continue to be truly humbled by my experiences within the association. In my weaker moments, I wonder if I can meet all of the challenges and fear that I may one day be revealed as an imposter masquerading as a knowl- edgeable diabetes educator. But then I realize that it’s not about me; it’s about our shared passion, energy, and focus on our collective work to serve and to educate. This shared passion drives our success and deeply affects our lives. And, it provides the energy, the synergy, we can draw upon to achieve our mission. I hope that my journey this year has helped pave the way for the future of the ADA and the places it has yet to go to achieve its mission. A friend of mine once offered me advice she had read that, as we travel through life, we should not seek to arrive at our grave in a pretty and well-pre- served body, but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, carrying a favorite food and beverage, and loudly proclaiming, “Wow, what a ride!” If the rest of my years are as exciting for me as the past one has been, I will indeed achieve that goal. The Things I Have Learned Life is not about milestones. It’s about moments. —Rose Kennedy This is one of my favorite bits of inspiration. And for the remainder of this article, I would like to share addi- tional words of wisdom that I have found helpful on my journey. Do not go where a path might lead you; go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail. —Ralph Waldo Emerson I am an optimist. It does not seem too much use to be anything else.” —Sir Winton Churchill It occurred to me a few years ago that when I am comfortably and quietly going about my business as usual, per- haps I may need to review my path, re-energize my thoughts and actions, check to see if I am missing anything. It is in such moments that I remember these wisdoms, and renew my efforts. When you see a void, jump in. —Marion Franz Take the time and energy to do the less comfortable approach. The rewards outweigh the process. The important thing in life is not the tri- umph, but the struggle! —Pierre de Coubertia If you find a fork in the road, take it. —Yogi Berra Heeding the advice in the three quotes above has afforded me many opportu- nities that I may not otherwise have had. The most important fork in my road? My service within the ADA, of course! Where do we go from here? —Alice, in “Alice in Wonderland” Depends on where you want to get to. —The Cheshire Cat, in “Alice in Wonderland” As an ADA volunteer and leader, I advise you all to go forward with pur- pose and look for the voids. Focus on education, advocacy, and research efforts throughout our nation and in your practice. Give your energy and time to prevention, empowerment, cure, care, and commitment. Take the leap. Take the high road. Extend yourself to embrace the needs of your communities and your patients and your own passions. And focus your efforts by volunteering with the ADA. I assure you, the rewards and benefits are many. You’re off to great places! Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting. So . . . get on your way! —Dr. Seuss Carolé R. Mensing, RN, MA, CDE, is a diabetes clinical nurse specialist and coordinator of the Diabetes Self- Management Education Program at the University of Connecticut, Farmington Campus. She was ADA President, Health Care & Education for 2003–2004. Diabetes Spectrum Volume 17, Number 4, 2004 Special Report 
work_7hpdomst5jb4xgdczhkm5k64mq	----	[PDF] Cognition from on high and down low: Verticality and construal level. | Semantic Scholar Skip to search formSkip to main content> Semantic Scholar's Logo Search Sign InCreate Free Account You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. DOI:10.1037/a0038265 Corpus ID: 12182405Cognition from on high and down low: Verticality and construal level. @article{Slepian2015CognitionFO, title={Cognition from on high and down low: Verticality and construal level.}, author={Michael L Slepian and E. Masicampo and N. Ambady}, journal={Journal of personality and social psychology}, year={2015}, volume={108 1}, pages={ 1-17 } } Michael L Slepian, E. Masicampo, N. Ambady Published 2015 Psychology, Medicine Journal of personality and social psychology Across 7 studies, the authors examined the relationship between experiences of verticality and abstract versus concrete processing. Experiencing high, relative to low, verticality led to higher level identifications for actions (Study 1), greater willingness to delay short-term monetary gains for larger long-term monetary gains (Studies 2 and 5), and more frequent perceptions of meaningful relationships between objects and categories (Studies 3, 4, and 6), demonstrating that high verticality… Expand View on PubMed columbia.edu Save to Library Create Alert Cite Launch Research Feed Share This Paper 31 CitationsHighly Influential Citations 1 Background Citations 2 Results Citations 1 View All Topics from this paper Experience Basal Ganglia Diseases Money Mental association Behavioral tic Tellurium Ploidies Large 31 Citations Citation Type Citation Type All Types Cites Results Cites Methods Cites Background Has PDF Publication Type Author More Filters More Filters Filters Sort by Relevance Sort by Most Influenced Papers Sort by Citation Count Sort by Recency Study 1 : Do People Associate Construal Level With Vertical Position ? Ravit Nussinson, Yaron Elias, Sari Mentser, Yoav Bar-Anan, Nurit Gronau 2019 PDF Save Alert Research Feed On When and How Identity Value Impacts Self-Control Decisions Asael Y. Sklar, Kentaro Fujita Psychology 2017 PDF Save Alert Research Feed A Match Made in Heaven or Down Under? The Effectiveness of Matching Visual and Verbal Horizons in Advertising Gudrun Roose, I. Vermeir, M. Geuens, A. V. Kerckhove Psychology, Art 2017 6 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Having Control Over and Above Situations: The Influence of Elevated Viewpoints on Risk Taking Ata Jami Business 2019 PDF Save Alert Research Feed The Cognitive Consequences of Formal Clothing Michael L Slepian, Simon Ferber, Joshua M. Gold, Abraham M. Rutchick Psychology 2015 37 PDF View 1 excerpt, cites results Save Alert Research Feed Being low prepares for being neglected: Verticality affects expectancy of social participation M. Niedeggen, R. Kerschreiter, D. Hirte, Sarah Weschke Psychology, Medicine Psychonomic bulletin & review 2017 7 PDF Save Alert Research Feed From “me” to “we”: The role of construal level in promoting maximized joint outcomes Paul E. Stillman, Kentaro Fujita, O. Sheldon, Y. Trope Psychology 2018 4 Save Alert Research Feed Is either peripheral detail(s) or central feature(s) easy to mentally process?: EEG examination of mental workload based on construal level theory Behçet Yalın Özkara, Volkan Dogan Psychology 2020 Save Alert Research Feed Manipulating the odds: The effects of Machiavellianism and construal level on cheating behavior M. E. Jaffé, Rainer Greifeneder, Marc-André Reinhard Psychology, Medicine PloS one 2019 1 PDF Save Alert Research Feed The ABC of stereotypes about groups: Agency/socioeconomic success, conservative-progressive beliefs, and communion. Alex Koch, R. Imhoff, R. Dotsch, C. Unkelbach, H. Alves Psychology, Medicine Journal of personality and social psychology 2016 114 PDF Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 ... References SHOWING 1-10 OF 108 REFERENCES SORT BYRelevance Most Influenced Papers Recency Disembodiment: abstract construal attenuates the influence of contextual bodily state in judgment. Sam J Maglio, Y. Trope Psychology, Medicine Journal of experimental psychology. General 2012 59 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Self-Control at High and Low Levels of Mental Construal B. Schmeichel, K. Vohs, S. Duke Psychology 2011 55 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Does "feeling down" mean seeing down? Depressive symptoms and vertical selective attention. B. Meier, M. Robinson Psychology 2006 97 Save Alert Research Feed The Social Distance Theory of Power Joe C. Magee, P. K. Smith Psychology, Medicine Personality and social psychology review : an official journal of the Society for Personality and Social Psychology, Inc 2013 294 View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Your highness: vertical positions as perceptual symbols of power. Thomas W. Schubert Psychology, Medicine Journal of personality and social psychology 2005 528 Highly Influential PDF View 6 excerpts, references background and results Save Alert Research Feed Flexibility and Consistency in Evaluative Responding: The Function of Construal Level A. Ledgerwood, Y. Trope, N. Liberman Psychology 2010 44 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Construal-level theory of psychological distance. Y. Trope, N. Liberman Psychology, Medicine Psychological review 2010 2,946 Highly Influential PDF View 8 excerpts, references methods and background Save Alert Research Feed Construal Level and Procrastination Sean M. McCrea, N. Liberman, Y. Trope, S. Sherman Psychology, Medicine Psychological science 2008 130 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Why Your Highness Needs the People Comparing the Absolute and Relative Representation of Power in Vertical Space D. Lakens, G. Semin, F. Foroni Psychology 2011 46 View 2 excerpts, references background and results Save Alert Research Feed Construal levels and self-control. Kentaro Fujita, Y. Trope, N. Liberman, Maya Levin-Sagi Psychology, Medicine Journal of personality and social psychology 2006 879 Highly Influential PDF View 5 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 5 ... Related Papers Abstract Topics 31 Citations 108 References Related Papers Stay Connected With Semantic Scholar Sign Up About Semantic Scholar Semantic Scholar is a free, AI-powered research tool for scientific literature, based at the Allen Institute for AI. 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work_7m2vruesbzay7kmoqkdry4sgge	----	LE JOURNAL CANADIEN DES SCIENCES NEUROLOGIQUES Pascal Boyer in his introduction, sets the stage for the importance of collective memories in the memories of the self. Williams and Conway deal with the role of memories in constructing the self and with the concept of AM networks. There is a vast depository of episodic and self related memories that are intertwined and trigger each other and play a role in developing our identity (as ancient Augustine, quoted later said). Flash-bulb memories such as the 9/11 WTC attacks, the death of Princess Diana or the assassination of JFK are culturally conditioned and are variable between countries. The age related peaks of personal reminiscences on the other hand are surprisingly similar in all cultures, where such studies are carried out. Bernstein and Bohn deals with life scripts, which are culturally shared expectations. In our society these are commonly experiences in school, with family members, marriage, children and jobs. Conflicts in this script also influence AM. This script of expectations unfolds in a stereotypic time sequence and deviations are notable. Happy and important memories have a peak of occurrence in the 15-30 life periods, while sad or anxious remembrances are more evenly distributed and increase with aging. The specificity of memories, priming, and the role of emotions in the encoding process are the subject of Schacter at al's more traditional experimental approach, using neuroimaging to demonstrate the fine tuning of neuronal systems, when they respond to previously heard or familiar material. The memory of self has specific neural network activation in relation to structures, processing emotions. This is a stand-alone contribution. Collective memories and the memory of history are essays comprising a major part of the book, led by Wertsch. Scholarly history has sufficient detachment and makes an effort to see the past from multiple perspectives. Collective remembering on the other hand simplifies and it is often based on myths and shaped by current political and societal considerations. History is far less static than it is conceived. Collective memories however often simplified for political reasons or through social pressures. Even official history is subject to the errors of collective remembering. Historical texts and our temples of history, the museums are repositories of interpreted memories. Many cultures enforce the traditional reiteration of past, biased as it may be, but there are revisionists and reinterpreters of the past in some other cultures such as our own, who are increasing in number and have become very fashionable. Several of the authors in this section are approaching these issues from the sociological and psychological perspective. Repeated retrieval of collective memories becomes history. This occurs in the classrooms, in the media and in commemorations. Roediger et a1 review massive repetition vs. spaced retrival, which may promote retention. Flashbulb memories are so intense and vivid that individuals remember the context for a long time. Collective flashbulb memories are not only important and shocking events, but are frequently reiterated. The subjective aspects, or context seems to be retained better than the core details of the event. Pennebaker and Gonzales also studied historical events that change the life of people and how they are shaped by various factors, such as age cohorts, culture and rehearsal. This group studied internet blogs and chatroom language after the 9/11 attacks. Another interesting study explored what various national student groups considered the ten most important events of the last 100 and 1000 years. The differences are interesting, but not surprisingly the French revolution did not make the American list. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said : "Memory is the affection- we remember the things we love and the things we hate". The emotionality of events shape their memory and so does the time elapsed and their locale. It usually takes about 25-30 years to achieve a balance of the significance of events. Initially memorials, street names were created for JFK in Memphis, but not in Dallas and Dr. King was memorialised in Dallas before Memphis. Historical revisionism works both ways and examples of these are studied in the last section of the book. One can learn for instance that the Canadian victory at Vimy Ridge to a large extent was attributable to "British and French artillery support and months of planning" and the quoted author felt Canadian heroism was overestimated and the battle was only part of a larger one. Early memory researchers such as Bartlett studied the "Chinese Whisper Game" effect of how stories get distorted as they are passed on. An interesting recent phenomena are the government apologies for previous injuries to other communities. It is another "reverse", politically correct, manifestation perhaps of the negative "presentism" or exegesis of history from our current perspective It seems that historical revisionism has no end. Columbus was appreciated little at the beginning, rewarded handsomely for his discovery, than forgotten and later discovered again to became a historical giant, to be re-evaluated recently as an imperialist and the cause of ruin of native peoples. This book is more about how history is constructed than about memory as a neurological phenomenon. It does not update or contribute to the clinical and scientific understanding of the neuropsychological aspects of memory. There are no clinical contributions, although AM has appeared in the clinical literature occasionally. Nevertheless it makes somewhat interesting general reading, while leaving the reader shaken about trusting history, historians or any recollection as a matter of fact. It will be enjoyed by sceptics and anti-establishment activists. Andrew Kertesz London, Ontario, Canada NEW STRATEGIES IN STROKE INTERVENTION. IONIC TRANSPORTERS, PUMPS, AND NEW CHANNELS. 2009. Edited by Lucio Annunziato. Published by Springer. 254 pages. C$195approx. Rated **& There are currently no clinical or experimental interventions, other than thrombolysis, which improve stroke outcome, this despite great advances in an understanding of the mechanisms by which ischemia induces cell damage. Thrombolysis has major limitations including amongst others, its limited therapeutic time-window, the require- ment for neuroimaging prior to initiation of treatment thereby precluding Volume 37, No. 6 - November 2010 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120219 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120219 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE CANADIAN JOURNAL OF NEUROLOGICAL SCIENCES initiation of treatment 'in the field', the need for administration by skilled personnel and risk of serious hemorrhagic complications. At present less than 5% of stroke patients are treated with thrombolysis. Neuroprotective interventions aim to limit neuronal damage. If successful stroke neuroprotective interventions are ultimately developed and if particularly these can be administered by EMS personnel at the time of initial interaction with the stroke victim, these would potentially extend the therapeutic window for thrombolysis as well as improving ultimate recovery. Neuroprotective strategies would likely be utilized empirically, sometimes in combination with thrombolysis when indicated. Numerous trials of potentially 'neuroprotective' agents to date have failed to demonstrate a neuroprotective benefit in stroke patients despite initially promising outcomes in stroke models. The failure of anti-excitotoxic strategies in clinical stroke trials has necessitated a re-evaluation of excititotoxic mechanisms as the major mediator of cellular damage following stroke, as well as leading to an exploration of alternative hypotheses. "New Strategies in Stroke Intervention" provides a succinct review of several novel concepts which might prove to be of ultimate clinical relevance in stroke management. The hard- covered book, comprising 250 pages of text with a four page index, is multi-authored, and comprises 12 chapters which provide specific overviews of a variety of channels, pumps and ion exchangers which might contribute to brain ischemic damage and which provide potential targets for therapeutic invention. Each chapter follows a similar format, providing details concerning the particular molecular entity under review including molecular structure, tissue distribution, biochemical and electrochemical properties, physiology and pathophysiological relevance to stroke, with further information concerning potential therapeutic pharmocomodulation and clinical trial data if available. Each chapter provides an index typically listing 50-150 references. The information provided will be understandable to clinicians who might not have extensive genetic, molecular or biophysiological or pharmacological backgrounds. Initial chapters include an introductory review of ionic dysregulation in brain ischemia and a discussion of why current anti-excitotoxic interventions have failed. Subsequent chapters include discussions of mitochondria1 channels, endoplasmic reticulum calcium homeostasis, ~ a + / C a + + exchanger, N ~ + + / H + exchanger, ~ a + l ~ + A T ~ a s e , acid-sensing ion channels, TRMP7 channels, voltage-gated Ca++ channels and K+ channels. The final chapter provides a tabulation of pharmaceutical trials targeting these various molecules including the status of these trials at the time of publication, treatment time from onset, and a brief commentary concerning outcome, adverse events and trial problems. The majority of chapters provide one or two figures, typically illustrating molecular structure or biochemicallpath physiological pathways; figures are not indexed. The publication will be of particular interest to Stroke clinicians and Fellows and to other Neuroscientists engaged in brain ischemia research. Christopher Voll Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Canada THE MYSTERY OF YAWNING IN PHYSIOLOGY AND DISEASE. FRONTIERS OF NEUROLOGY AND NEUROSCIENCE - VOLUME 28 VOLUME 28. 2010. Edited by Olivier Walusinski. Published by Basel, Karger. 159 pages. C$200 approx. Rated UNAVAILABLE This book is Volume 28 in the series 'Frontiers of Neurology and Neuro- science' and it represents a summary of current knowledge about yawning, with contributors from eight countries under the editorship of a French primary care physician who himself contributes five sections including an historical survey. It has long been accepted that yawning is a phylogenetically old behavior exhibited by humans, non- human primates and other mammals, birds and reptiles; that it is frequently contagious; and that it is especially associated with boredom. Yet, as the title of the book indicates, the function of yawning remains a mystery. In seeking an answer to this, data about its relationships and antecedents need to be reconciled. From various chapters, one learns that yawning is seen in fetuses after 12 weeks gestation and has been claimed to be associated with hunger, thirst, the need for physical love, boredom, low vigilance; thinking, witnessing or reading about yawning; awakening, recent fearfulness, cerebral hyperthermia (?where) and various disorders such as intracranial hypertension, after stroke, during opioid detoxification, as portents of seizures or migraine attacks, and in tic disorder and the Marin Amat syndrome, while it is uncommon in people with Parkinsonism or autism spectrum disorder and in castrated male rats (though testosterone restores that function to them.) Pontine, mesodiencephalic (mainly paraventricular nuclei) and prefrontal cortical disorders have all been incriminated in causation, and the behavior has been shown to require the activation of at least 11 neurotransmitters or neurohormones, though D3 receptor activation seems to be absolutely necessary. The occurrence of associated movements in hemiplegic limbs during a yawn demonstrates its dependence upon more than one motor pathway. Dr. Walusinski has coined the term 'parakinesia brachialis oscitans' for this phenomenon; only time will tell if this finds favour. Opinions here seem to differ as to the roles of yawning as an erotic manifestation and in cortical arousal, but a consensus is that at least contagious yawning (discussed at length here in three chapters) is a primitive expression of social cognition (although I yawned repeatedly while reading the book in the sole company of my black Labrador, who yawned empathetically with me.) This book will appeal to a limited readership, but it does nicely gather together many (but varied) opinions on the subject and will be absolutely invaluable to anyone starting inquiry in this field. The word for the scientific study of yawning is 'chasmology'. Ignoring the suggestive association of the words 'yawning' and 'chasm' in relation to our knowledge of the teleologic function of this activity, I have to say that I finished reading the book feeling like Dylan Thomas did after receiving from his aunt at Christmas one whic$ told him everything he wanted to know about wasps - except why. William Pryse-Phillips St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120219 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120219 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_7o5dnhr3efb5pgfqjponoik62y	----	The Myth of the Near-Death Journey Michael Grosso, Ph.D. Jersey City State College Have you built your ship of death, 0 have you? 0 build your ship of death, for you will need it. D.H. Lawrence, "The Ship of Death" (1965, p. 139) There is a difference between one and another hour of life in their authority and subsequent effect. Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual. Yet there is a depth in those brief moments which con strains us to ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences. Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The Over-Soul" (1883, p. 171) ABSTRACT: I examine in this article the meaning and developmental poten tial of the near-death experience (NDE) as a stimulus to inner exploration. The NDE as a prototype of the transcendent contact encounter offers a model for an evolutionary theory of religion. My own experiences and contemporary por trayals of NDEs suggest that the experience is a vehicle for the mythic renewal of our idea of death as a journey rather than as a termination, and may be a stimulus for spiritual revolution. When in 1975 I stumbled upon Raymond Moody's Life After Life (1975) and reviewed it for the Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research (Grosso, 1976), I had no idea the book I favorably reviewed would become a bestseller and, more importantly, would inspire a new area of research with a special journal devoted to it. Indeed, I had the honor of having my article "Toward an Explanation Michael Grosso, Ph.D., is Assistant Professor of Philosophy at the Jersey City State College. Reprint requests should be addressed to Dr. Grosso at the Department of Philosophy and Religion, Jersey City State College, 2039 Kennedy Memorial Boulevard, Jersey City, NJ 07305. Journal of Near-Death Studies, 10(1) Fall 1991 1991 Human Sciences Press, Inc. 49 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES of Near-Death Phenomena" (Grosso, 1981) lead off the first issue of the Journal of Near-Death Studies (then known as Anabiosis). So I am delighted that Bruce Greyson, editor of the Journal of Near-Death Studies, has invited me to contribute an article to this tenth anniver sary issue. In casting about for a theme, I decided to offer a meditation on the near-death journey. I use the word "journey" because the near-death experience (NDE) is so often a stimulus to inner travels and explora tions. Meditating on an experience, as I see it, is going with the experience, trying to get the feel of it from the inside, unfolding, unraveling its meanings, exploring its developmental possibilities. I am not a medical professional nor a psychologist but a philosopher interested in the nature of mind. I am especially interested in unusual mind-related occurrences-miraculous, paranormal, or anomalous. I am interested in these phenomena because they often transform peo ple's lives, and because of what they may tell us about human beings and the world we live in. Although I have never conducted organized studies of anomalous phenomena (I am indebted to those who have), I have talked at length with many who have had NDEs and other remarkable experiences. I've also had a fair share of my own remark able experiences. So I consider myself a fellow traveler with those on the near-death journey. I would like to recount one of my personal experiences that may bear on the NDE. A "great" dream, as I define it, is intensely vivid and meaningful to the dreamer, and seems to come from beyond the bound aries of the personal self; it is the kind of dream that burns itself into the memory, leaving a kind of inner landmark, a pointer to future developments. In a "great" dream I once had (in press, a), I had to build a boat. To get the wood for this boat I entered the tomb of George Washington. I had to ransack the tomb of a great man, break up the wood of his coffin to build my boat. Much to my surprise I found a coffin within a coffin; before my eyes coffin within coffin appeared, each one becoming more lifelike in appearance. Out of the last small red-leathery coffin leaped a scarlet beetle, or scarab. I watched the scarab hop away. In the dream I followed the creature, and suddenly found myself hauling a boat-or was it a coffin? I was hauling it up a hill that sloped against a clear blue sky. Then and here was the "great" moment of my dream-the sun rose over the hill. I looked up at the sun and a brilliant ray of golden light shot into my heart. The warm ray penetrated, seeping through every cell of my 50 MICHAEL GROSSO consciousness. In that moment I experienced a bliss that beggared description. I had this dream over twenty years ago, and can still remember it vividly. The intensity has faded, but the image and sense of an alto gether higher state of being remain indelibly intact. Never before or since have I experienced such bliss-such a feeling of perfect love. This dream reminds me of the near-death narratives, the meetings with the beings of light, we hear about so often. My dream experience also helps me get a handle on those luminous raptures reported in the literature of mystical experience. The dream is there, a point of refer ence, a place to go back to, a bright weathervane I can use to orient my inner wanderings as well as my outer researches. This experience-however fleeting and private-is often at the back of my mind when I read stories of the NDE. I find myself asking all sorts of questions. For example, is it possible that being physically near death is only one of many routes to this remarkable experience? Might the NDE be just one perspective on a more fundamental experi ence? Could we in dreams, in meditation, even in drug-induced states glimpse this world we have come to know through the typical NDE? Perhaps the experience in question is potentially present to all of us all the time, inwardly accessible, and just needs the right stimulus for us to gain entry. That entry gained, the contents of this inward uni verse of forms might reveal itself to us in more than one way. Perhaps there is more than one way the archetypal near-death experience may be experienced. Researchers have noticed the overlap of NDEs with mystical experi ences. Others have noticed possible connections with the unidentified flying object (UFO) experience (Davis, 1988). What has struck me were similarities to the phenomenology of UFO "contactee" encounters. Kenneth Ring and Christopher Rosing (1990) have recently begun to look at links between NDEs and alien abduction stories. Other candi dates for the possibility that the NDE is one type on a continuum of similars include encounters with "angels" and visions of the "Blessed Virgin Mary." The NDE may offer a natural prototype of such experiences-a kind of code for unlocking the whole continuum. Indeed, the NDE as the natural prototype of a continuum of transcendent contact encounters may offer a model for an evolutionary theory of religion. In Frontiers of the Soul (in press, b), I attempted to sketch this theory, and try, for example, to shed light on Saint Paul's conversion and the ancient Greek Eleusinian Mysteries by the psychodynamics of NDEs. So for 51 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES me the study of the NDE has been a stepping-stone toward wider speculations on human consciousness. But to return to my "near-death" dream: meditating on this experi ence, I feel myself pulled from theory or organized research. Given the "NDE matrix"-the inner resources oriented around images of rebirth, renewal, renovation-we have two options: we can move horizontally toward widening our conceptual grasp of the phenomena or we can move-and I think this is the spontaneous response-vertically, down into the subjective mythic depths of the experience. For the moment I want to pursue the latter. I believe that this vertical plunge into the meaning, feeling, and state-specificity of the NDE is part of its spontaneous trajectory. If, as some writers have suggested, there is an evolutionary potential to NDEs, then perhaps we are not meant to analyze the experience. The evolutionary function of the NDE might better be served by a more synthetic epistemology. This would imply that the "truth"-different from the explanation of the NDE is what we make of it. The NDE, viewed from this perspec tive, invites us to engage it on its terms; it asks for a poetic, in the sense of creative, response. For one thing, this would mean trying to maintain an internal point of departure. From an internal standpoint, I try to understand the NDEs of others. Now, my dream was not an NDE. Yet in several nontrivial ways it was very much like an NDE. Like an NDE, it gave me a taste of something I can only lamely call cosmic love. True, I wasn't literally near death, yet in my dream I did undergo a kind of symbolic death. I found myself dragging a coffin up a hill. But the form of the coffin, it turned out, also suggested a boat. In the universe of dream and myth, forms take on different meanings very quickly. Nothing is entirely solid, as in physical space, where a stone is a stone or a tree a tree. Not so in the world of dreams, where things are fluid and boundaries forever shifting. There a coffin can become a boat. This puts a different spin on the meaning on death. It opens death up-turns it into a "boat"-the symbol of a journey. And since a boat would not be a boat without water, the dream leads to associations with lakes, rivers, seas. As I meditate, go with the flow of associations, I am carried back to the oldest tale of the human race-the story of Gilgamesh who crossed "the waters of death"-searching for Utna pishtim the Faraway One, the man who survived the Flood and knew the secret of immortality. 52 MICHAEL GROSSO I had this dream when I was a graduate student at Columbia Univer sity and was busy absorbing the reigning philosophy of scientific mate rialism. Carl Jung's claustrophobic "boxed in" metaphysics was trium phant in the halls of that venerable institution. The chief method of the prevailing school of philosophy was analytic. I suspect that some part of me saw this exclusive focus on analysis as an imitation of entropy: a philosophy of dissection, destruction, death. Apparently, the "teacher" in my deep unconscious meant to give me a different lesson in metaphysics. Contrary to the dogma that death is extinction, the dream told me that death was a voyage after all-the main symbolic equation of the dream being coffin= boat. That reading is further reinforced by the fact that deep inside the coffin I found a scarab-an Egyptian symbol of immortality. At the time I had no knowledge of the scarab as an Egyptian symbol or of the image of a coffin within a coffin-also a motif in Egyptian myth. Yet themes from this myth of the Sun God Ra appeared in my dream. It seems the imagery came from somewhere deeper than my personal unconscious. Of course, I cannot prove this; I may have picked it all up unconsciously. In either case, the impact of the dream was tremendous; as far as aftereffects, what counts is not the explanation but the quality of the experience. Now, the modern rational mind sees death as the end, a "grim reaper," a cul-de-sac; but my great dream and the typical near-death experience-emerging spontaneously as they seem to from a deep, perhaps collective layer of mind-tell a different story: death, seen through the eyes of the unconscious, becomes a boat, a voyage, a journey into the light, a love embrace with the universe. This is an important point. A widespread pattern of experiences due to modern rescusitation technology, the NDE has become an avenue to a source of mythic renewal of our idea of death. It is as if some older, perhaps prehistoric stratum of mind, seeking a window, an inlet-and against the dictates of modern science-would force its way back into popular consciousness. This older stratum, erupting with its confound ing signals and enchanting images, wants us to invert the picture of reality that has been constructed by modern science, and make us see death as a tunnel into a world beyond. The official academic view would have us see death as a hole in the ground, a grave, a dead-end. So this is one way to think of the meaning of the near-death experi ence: in terms of what it is doing to us, reviving-not in a rational or objective way, but at a grass roots level of popular consciousness-the living world of the mythic journey. The new (yet very old) myth that is 53 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES crystallizing out of modern NDEs-millions if the polls are right-is telling us in no uncertain terms that death is a journey. The image of death emerging from millions of unconscious minds is clear: it radically reverses "logic," common sense, and ordinary science. It substitutes light for dark, joy for grief, movement for stagnation; it affirms the claims of ancient visionaries from Zoroaster to Saint Paul and Plotinus. And it is doing so in the form of a living myth. There is no question about the reality of this emerging myth. Let me give a few examples of recent movies that are woven from strands of the new near-death mythology. In addition to sitcoms and sci-fi and fantasy shorts on television the core imagery of NDEs has appeared in such movies as Return of the Jedi (Marquand, 1983), Resurrection (Petrie, 1980), All That Jazz (Fosse, 1979), Peggy Sue Got Married (Coppola, 1986), Jo Jo Dancer (Pryor, 1986), Bliss (Lawrence, 1985), Ghost (Zucker, 1990), Flatliners (Schumacher, 1990), and Jacob's Lad der (Lyne, 1990). The recent movie Jacob's Ladder (Lyne, 1990) has irked and puzzled many viewers by its confusing shifts from reality to surreality, but the confusion vanishes once you realize that the entire film is about an afterdeath journey. Let me describe a few details in one or two of these films to illustrate how near-death motifs are appearing in our contemporary mythic consciousness. In Bob Fosse's All That Jazz (1979), a frenetic womanizing choreogra pher was taken through several Code Blues; the hero kept bumping into Moody's "being of light," appropriately portrayed as a beautiful woman in white. In Resurrection (Petrie, 1980), in a touching performance, Ellen Burstyn became a healer after her brush with death. Unfortunately, she was treated as a witch by local fundamentalists. Repressed daugh ter, repressed psychic, she tried to soften the hard heart of her father, a man sadly impervious to the light of unconditional love. Her post-near death enlightenment, paradoxically, threatened to ruin her; the world is not prepared for unconditional love nor for ideologically non-aligned healing power. This power, unaligned and undefined, provoked intense anxiety in a Bible-thumping hick chillingly played by Sam Shepherd who, in the name of a jealous God, attempted to blow her brains out. In the end, the force released by the near-death epiphany went underground; attempts to heal the world were forced to take the form of covert actions. Anything resembling real "resurrection" turned out to be dangerous and illegal. 54 MICHAEL GROSSO In the movie, Jo Jo Dancer (Pryor, 1986), going out of the body during an NDE became for Richard Pryor a metaphor for looking at life from a detached viewpoint. The out-of-body experience became a way of self rediscovery, getting a grip on the elusive implications latent but nor mally hidden in one's life. After glimpsing the whole pattern of his life, the comic hero in Jo Jo Dancer regained his will to live. Outside his hospital room-to ease his rite of passage back-a bevy of beauties waited for him. On stage before an enthusiastic audience, he mimed the death of his old self: The End, amid applause and laughter. Near-death was portrayed as a comic rite of passage, a tool of conversion from the old to the new man: another step in the reeducation of the imagination of death. A similar device was used in Charles Dickens' Christmas Carol (1843/1983). (Dickens was interested in psychical research, a new discipline in the early 1880's established by a small group of Cam bridge scholars.) In the Dickens story, a man, at high risk of losing his soul, also stepped out of his cantankerous bodily self. One by one, the spirits of past, present, and future took him on a trip into various aspects of his repressed and disfigured life. He put up a fight but eventually gained some special insights into himself. In this way Ebenezer Scrooge became a new man. And so do people on the thresh old of death often claim to watch their whole lives, or the significant highpoints, unroll before them in the ultimate "movie" flashback. But to come back to contemporary movies: with the award-winning Australian film, Bliss (Lawrence, 1985), based on the novel by William Carey, the near-death experience became a symbol of planetary decay and renewal. I would like to dwell on this extraordinary but little noticed film. Here the humor was quite black, blacker than Pryor's; the imagery grotesque, baroque, surreal. Bliss added to the new cinematic mythology of near-death by weaving into the narrative items under played by researchers: the hellish side of near-death. The hero of Bliss, Harry Joy, an amiable chap who liked to tell stories, had a heart attack after a drinking party. His (invisible) double promptly ascended among the trees; then drifted further into a world of undersea images of exotic beauty and repulsive horror. After it all, Harry was never the same again. There was no attempt to reproduce the typical imagery reported in near-death experiences; no beings of light, no whirling through tunnels, no encounters with demised rela tions or celestial welcoming committees. Instead, the film embroidered a private mythology of life after death-more importantly, of the living death that was Harry's life. 55 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES Harry's world was shot through with deception, infidelity, incest, cancer, insanity, suicide. His life, in short, was permeated by death, bodily and spiritual. Having a near-death experience, one no longer lives at life's surface; one becomes a psychic amphibian, floating precariously between worlds. Dream and reality melt into each other. Bliss underscored this liquefaction of ontological boundaries. It showed how dreams, fanta sies, lies mingle promiscuously with truth and external reality. While Harry was recovering from his heart attack in the hospital, his wife made love to his business partner on a table in a public restau rant. Corruption was totally visible but nobody noticed or cared. The point was that Harry, thanks to the "bliss" of near-death, had dis tanced himself from the tangle of deception that was his life. Harry's near-death, as taught by ancient philosophers and mystery rites, be came a vehicle for transforming insight. Bliss portrayed family life, derelict from the order of nature. After his near-death episode, Harry caught his daughter performing fellatio on his son, who made his pocket money selling cocaine. She of course did not perform this service out of sisterly affection; she did it for the cocaine. We begin to appreciate the savage irony of the title, Bliss. The closer you get to death the simpler your sense of good and evil. Harry, after his brush with mortality, decided to "do good." He began doing good by opposing certain carcinogenic policies of his advertising company. Images of a carcinogenic apocalypse pervade Bliss. Mean while, he fell in love with a prostitute. His wife was diagnosed as having cancer and, in a final act evoking Valhalla and the Crucifixion, blew herself up at a company board meeting. Harry retired to the wilderness with his new girlfriend. Like Scrooge, he lived on to old age. At film's end he died again. The camera led us upward, again taking us on a gentle out-of-body flotation. This time there would be no return. His granddaughter spoke his epitaph: "He planted trees," she said. "He told stories." Bliss ended on this note. The road to the new Eden was through death. Death in the movies here turned into a symbol of planetary rebirth. I am describing-not prescribing-what seems in so many cases to result from this experience. The near-death experience is about the unfolding of new life. In a recent film in which I was interviewed, several NDErs described specific changes they underwent (O'Reilly, 1991). One man wrote ads for television, but quit after having his NDE; his former work now seemed meaningless. He started an organization for 56 MICHAEL GROSSO helping gifted children. This was his way of living his mythic journey. Another experiencer chose to end her marriage; the relationship had become meaningless. Measured against the memory of her near-death encounter, divorce from her ordinary existence became a necessity; this was her way of living the myth of the journey. Another woman suddenly found herself with clairvoyant powers, which met with disapproval from the priest of her local church. This prompted the woman to break from her church, to embark on her own spiritual journey, and move on to explore a wider universe. Her jour ney was to explore new forms of perception, new ways of knowing the world, moving beyond the restraints of standard rationality, the com mandments of standard religiosity. For many the NDE serves as a tool of deconstruction. Deconstruction of ordinary reality is important in developing a new outlook on life. For anyone interested in the evolutionary potential of NDEs and related experiences, this deconstructive effect is worthy of attention. As a source of renewal of one's personal mythology, the NDE seems to help us let go of the world we construct through ordinary experience. Thanks to the transformative NDE, we reinvent the rules of the reality game, capsizing the standard paradigms: in one person it deconstructs the money-making game (the NDEr who quit his job as an ad man); in another the conventional marriage game is delegitimized; in yet an other it deconstructs two birds with one stone: the bird of scientific reason and the bird of dogmatic religion. Add them all up, these raids on convention, these perhaps rough weanings from the habits of conventional value and perception, and you have a force in place for spiritual renewal, for spiritual revolution. So the NDE does not have the earmarks of illusion or defensiveness. On the contrary, the NDE seems rather to lead to a liberating disillusionment-as in those who are disillusioned by their jobs, their relationships, their religions, their routine understandings of the world. These experiences have expansive potentials; they hold seeds of transformation. Not at all defensive, they lead to awakenings, open ings, outreachings toward more, not less, reality. I am trying to make explicit the mythic intentionality that seems at work in the NDE. I am not trying to explain it in the sense of reduce it to an a priori set of ideas or ontological presuppositions. I am rather, in a spirit of active imagination, trying to carry the myth forward, see where it wants to go, immerse myself in its elan vital, its meandering evolutionary impetus. So let us enter into the flow of the near-death imagery. Instead of 57 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES trying to figure out whether it is an illusion or a defense mechanism or a phantasm conjured by some brain mechanism, let us enter into the mythic near-death journey and see where it leads us. The experience itself gives a clue to the way to do this. Over and over we have heard it. Those involuntary visionaries who have glimpsed the higher regions and had their foretaste of paradise are, as Jung and countless others have said, depressed, angered, rebellious against the return to a flat soulless existence. Near-death travelers return to the ordinary world under protest, feeling at once cursed, haunted, and driven by memories of their brief brushes with paradise. As one man told me who had a near-death experience: "I was given a new direction." The new direction was back to the world of light, love, meaning, away from the gray world of compromised ordinary reality. The clue is in the revulsion. Georg Hegel wrote that contradiction is the force that moves things. The NDE contradicts our "fallen" exis tence. It points to a new way, a vita nova, a way to live the myth forward, a road to incarnating the vision of light. What, in practice, does that mean? It means to live all the deconstructions and dissolu tions and divorces and alienations: to decathect the jobs without mean ing, the marriages and alliances and affiliations that say nothing, confirm nothing of the vision. The old world must die, says the myth of the near-death journey; therefore, all institutions, all religions and sciences, all forms of knowl edge, all models, routines, categories, paradigms-whatever falsifies, fails to resonate with, or betrays the natural trajectory of the soul to its true source of renewal and wellbeing-all these things must submit to a rigorous critique. Their spell must be dissolved. We have to release our grip on the familiar world. If we want to live the myth of near death resurrection, we have to question the old system of reality. How else can we join Gilgamesh in crossing the "waters of death" in quest of the secret of immortality? But to travel the mythic journey of the near-death experience is not to commit suicide. Bruce Greyson (1981) has especially made this clear, thus indirectly confirming that the NDE is about rediscovering life. The interviewees in Tim O'Reilley's film did anything but commit suicide. They refused the "suicidal" features of their everyday exis tence; they rejected the "death" that all-too-often conceals itself behind the commonplaces of life-and-business-as-usual, the soul-negating jobs, the false human relationships, the inauthentic institutional affilia tions. The NDErs refused to commit suicide by denying their vision and conforming to a deadly reality, a false consciousness. These people 58 MICHAEL GROSSO were exploring the myth of the near-death journey, making their own Gilgamesh journey, their own search for paradisal renovation. To set out, each in our own way, on the journey to discover paradise, the search to taste the flower of immortality: this, in my opinion, is the great teaching of the near-death experience. It is a call from the depths of a life-affirming Mind at Large to reset our priorities, leave the lies and tinsel behind and seek the impossible but necessary dream of heaven on earth. As I follow the images of the NDE, I find myself coming back to the belief that each of us stores an extraordinary power within, and that there are many inlets into a great sea of transforming life energies. Once we set out on the near-death journey, however, we're pretty much on our own; we become transitional, marginal people. Each of us must, as D.H. Lawrence wrote, build our own ship of death. So a little courage is called for if we dare to live the myth of our near-death journey. Yet if we heed the word of the near-death visionaries, there is reason to believe that the universe is democratic in its bounty and has armed each of us with the inner resources for embarking on the journey, for heading toward the omega of our life potentials. For not only is there light at the end of the tunnel, not only are we closer to the light and capable of entering the light, but we are the light. That, in a nutshell, seems the supreme message. Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay on Self-Reliance (1883b) takes on new meaning in view of what we may now surmise lies latent in all of us. "Trust thyself," wrote that free spirit, "every heart vibrates to that iron string" (p. 32). Millions of people having the same experience are telling us to trust ourselves-not our ideas or our beliefs, but the source of life that lies coiled in our own inner depths. There is a tremendous life force, a life light, a life tide within. The NDE is telling us to trust that light, that the way has been tried, that where things look gloom iest, darkest, most hopeless, there is really a hidden spring of light ahead. The NDE is calling us to "follow our bliss," to use the now famous words of Joseph Campbell (Campbell and Moyers, 1988, p. 91). The experiencers come back to a broken world screaming in protest, horrified at falling out of the light. These feelings may be nature's way of reminding us we have forgotten that we are the light, that we have all that we really need. Revulsion at the shallowness of our lives may be the greatest gift, the greatest blessing of the near-death experience. For that revulsion reminds us of the need to make the break, to practice the philosophic "death" that Plato extolled-the death of our false relationship to everything. 59 JOURNAL OF NEAR-DEATH STUDIES References Campbell, J., and Moyers, B. (1988). The power of myth. New York, NY: Doubleday. Coppola, F. (Director). (1986). Peggy Sue got married [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Columbia. Davis, L. (1988). A comparison of UFO and near-death experiences as vehicles for the evolution of human consciousness. Journal of Near-Death Studies, 6, 240-258. Dickens, C. (1983). A Christmas Carol. New York, NY: Bantam. (Original work pub lished 1843) Emerson, R.W. (1883). The over-soul. In The work of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Volume I. Essays. First Series (pp. 171-193). New York, NY: Library Society. Emerson, R.W. (1883). Self-reliance. In The work of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Volume I. Essays. First Series (pp. 31-60). New York, NY: Library Society. Fosse, B. (Director). (1979). All that jazz [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Columbia. Greyson, B. (1981). Near-death experiences and attempted suicide. Suicide and Life Threatening Behavior, 11, 10-16. Grosso, M. (1976). [Review of Life after life]. Journal of the American Society for Psychical Research, 70, 316-320. Grosso, M. (1981). Toward an explanation of near-death phenomena. Anabiosis: The Journal of Near-Death Studies, 1, 3-26. Grosso, M. (In press, a). Soulmaker. Norfolk, VA: Hampton Roads. Grosso, M. (In press, b). Frontiers of the soul. Wheaton, IL: Theosophical Publishing House. Lawrence, D.H. (1965). Selected Poems. New York, NY: Viking. Lawrence, R. (Director). (1985). Bliss [Film]. Sydney, Australia: New South Wales Film Corp. Lyne, A. (Director). (1990). Jacob's ladder [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Carolco. Marquand, R. (Director). (1983). Return of the Jedi [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Columbia. Moody, R.A., Jr. (1975). Life after life. Covington, GA: Mockingbird. O'Reilly, T. (Producer). (1991). Round trip [Film]. New York, NY: Tim O'Reilly Productions. Petrie, D. (Director). (1980). Resurrection [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Universal. Pryor, R. (Director). (1986). Jo Jo Dancer, your life is calling [Film]. Hollywood, CA: RCA. Ring, K., and Rosing, C. (1990). The Omega Project: A psychological survey of persons reporting abductions and other UFO encounters. Journal of UFO Studies, 2, 59-99. Schumacher, J. (Director). (1990). Flatliners [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Columbia. Zucker, J. (Director). (1990). Ghost [Film]. Hollywood, CA: Paramount. 60 
work_7oppommkord7hpfch4wphg2xiy	----	Objectivity In Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment By Richard Streckfuss Journalists did not begin to use the word "objective" to describe their work until the 1920s. The term originally represented a rigorous reporting procedure growing out of the broader cultural movement of scientific naturalism. Rather than serve as a vehicle of neutrality, the objective method was seen as an antidote to the emotionalism and jingoism ofthe conservative American press. •When journalistic objectivity is attacked today for "producing not neu- trality but superficiality"' for forcing reporters to balance "the remarks of a wise men with those of a fooP, the writers are flaying but a shadow of the original concept During its brief moment in the sun, objectivity was viewed not as something simple-minded and pallidly neutral, but as a demanding, intellectually rigorous procedure holding the best hope for social change. In today's attacks on objectivity, no one seems to have sought out its birthplace or checked into its parentage. That may be because writers have assumed that objectivity equates with neutrality. The assumption is understandable. As used today, the two terms probably are inter- changeable. But objectivity once meant more than mere neutrality, as can be seen by going back to the 1920s and watching its birth. A general reading of the trade magazines, Newspaperdom and The Joumalist, from the 1890s into the 20th century demonstrates that the word objectivity was not yet in the vocabulary of workaday journnalists or media commentators. Instead, they used the words unbiased and uncolored. To one interested in journalistic currents and practices, the omission raised questions: When did journalists begin to apply the word objective to their work? What meaning did they give it? What arguments did they make for its adoption as a journalistic norm? Those questions led to a search for the word. The results were rewarding, if somewhat puzzling. The reward came in joining a vigor- ous debate of the 1920s on problems of journalism and problems of democracy. If one listens to the voices that first called for the objective approach to news writing, one learns that modern critics are missing the message. Whatever objectivity may mean now, it had a particular and important meaning at its outset, a meaning created to cope with •Richard Streckfuss is Associate Professor of Journalism at the University of Nebraska- Lincoln. Vol. 67, No. 4 (Winter 1990) 973 974 JOURNALISM QUARTERLY new information and new conditions. Those conditions, though now mostly ignored, are with us still. To review the birth of objectivity and the conditions that brought it forth, then, is to discuss present prob- lems of democracy and journalism, but from the different perspective of hindsight. Objectivity was founded not on a naive idea that humans could be objective, but on a realization that they could NOT. To compensate for this innate weakness, advocates in the 1920s proposed a journalistic system the subjected itself to the rigors of the scientific method. That much seemed clear, and will be developed. The puzzle came in a failure to find thoughtful, formal and full debate on that idea. The search uncovered no articles, either in u-ade or scholarly journals, with titles such as T h e Case for Objectivity in Reporting" or "Objectivity Defined." Its birth could be noted clearly, but its development remained clouded. By the time the word objectivity came into general use among journalists, it had lost its specific meaning. This essay will report on the search for the word, give its definition, show its birthplace and, more importantly, discuss the affairs that spawned it. The search revealed that the words objective and objectivity were not used with any regularity until late in the 1920s. The search encom- passed all of the published proceedings of the annual meetings of the American Society of Newspaper Editors from its founding in 1923 into the 1930s. In sessions dealing with matters of fairness, balance and the like, the word objectivity did not appear at all until 1928.* Nor is the word to be found in any of ihe Journalism Bulletins flater renamed Journalism Quarterly) published between 1924 and 1929, nor in the titles of any of the numerous theses listed there. In The Conscience of a Newspaper, published in 1925, professor Leon Nelson Flint includes codes of ethics from 19 news organizations. Almost all of the codes had been adopted since World War I. None con- tains the words objective or objectivity.* Nor does Flint himself ever use the words in his text. Neither does Casper S. Yost, editorial editor of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat, in a 1924 book on journalistic ethics. The Principles of Journalism.^ Of four textbooks on news reporting published in the 1920s, three did not include the words, but a fourth, by Gerald Johnson, contains the line, "It is easier to pass the buck if one assumes the objective view of news."' Others checked were: Walter Williams and F.L. Martin, The Practice of Journalism (Columbia, Mo.: Lucas Bros. Publishers, 1922); Talcott Williams, 77?̂ Newspaperman (New York: Charles Scribner, vocational series, 1922); and Dix Harwood, Getting and Writing the News (New York: Doubleday Doran & Company, 1927). In this general omission of the words objective and objectivity, there is one notable exception, a book that apparently was the first to define 1. George S Hage and other*. New Strategies for Public Affairs Reporting (Erwlcwood Q i f f c N J • Prentice-H»ll 1976). p. 16. 2. Don R. Ptmber, 2nd ed.. Mass Media M America (Chicago and other cities: Science Research Associates, Inc. 1977). p. 94 . 3 . Vemon Nash, 'Chinese Joumaliam.* Problems of Journalism: Proceedings if the American Sodeh ofNenaPaPer Editors, V d . VIII (192«), p. 1 2 2 . ' ^ ^ i. Nelaon Flint, Conscience <rfa Newspaper (New York: D. Appleton It Company). 1925,p. 427-61. 5. Caqier S. Yost, The Ptindptes of Journalism (New York: D. Appleton & Company 1924) 6. Cermld W Johnson. What Is News? (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1926). Objectivity in Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment 975 objective reporting in a specific way. The author was Nelson Antrim Crawford, and his work will be discussed at length later. In turning to the definition of the word, it is important to understand that objectivity was a child of its time and a creature of its culture. It was inevitable that it should be discussed in the 1920s, the question only was, with how much vigor and to what result? For the decade of the 1920s saw the flourishing of scientific naturalism, a school of thought holding that there are no a priori truths, that attempts to explain the universe in metaphysical terms foster not understanding but ignorance and superstition, and that only knowledge gained by sci- entific investigation is valid/ As social scientists talked excitedly about harnessing the scientific methodology to their subject matter, it was inevitable that some thinkers would urge harnessing the new social science techniques to journalism. The term objectivity described this effort. In its original sense, objectivity meant finding the truth through the rigorous method- ology of the scientist. Such methodology was the central tenet of faith of the social scien- tists ofthe 1920s. It is inscribed in stone over the entryway ofthe social science building at the University of Chicago, dedicated in 1929: "When you cannot measure your knowledge is meager and unsatisfactory."' And it was written on paper by a whole school of new social scientists: "Science begins when man learns to measure his world or any part of it by definite objective standards."'This, as will be seen, was the approach urged for journalism by some signtficant figures in the 1920s. They did not see the system as sterile; instead it was viewed as a counter to dan- gerous forces that threatened to undermine democracy, both in its prac- tice and its theoretical framework. The cultural attitudes and forces that together created the call for an objective journalism can be summarized as follows: —A distrust of human nature and of people's inclination to gather facts before making judgments. This doubt stemmed from the work in psychology by men like John B. Watson and Sigmund Freud. —A realization that even if the humans were fact-gatherers and users, propagandists were manipulating facts and clouding issues, mak- ing the "facts" delivered by the press a tainted commodity, thus tainting public opinion. —A realization that if people did not, in actual practice, use facts in making judgments and tf they failed to get a trustworthy supply of facts anyway, then democracy as traditionally defined was deeply flawed: The omnicompetent citizen-ruler was a myth, as was the idea that the truth would win out in the end- —A belief that the scientific method, applied to human affairs (including journalism) via the comparatively new social sciences (chiefly sociology, psychology, political science and economics) could open the door to human betterment. Giving urgency to all the foregoing was the jingoistic, America-first mood of the country and its press just after World War I. Objectivity 7. The definition is taken from Edward A. Pureell, Jr, 7>« Crisis ofDtmocralic Tktory: Sdtntific Naturalism & tkt Probttm tf Valut (The University Press of Kentucky, Lexington, Ky., 1973), p. 3. «-Purcdl,/»<p.31. ,<»>,?• '*'^' ••• ^ ' '^''^ *-'- ̂ *f""'^- T h e Concept of Procres*: HI The Scientific Phase ' Social Forcts. 4 (September 1925), p. 36. 976 JOURNALISM QUARTERLY was an anddote to what liberals saw as newspaper emodonalism and sensadonalism.'" An expansion of the points just enumerated will help in understand- ing how objecdvity became the hope of many intellectuals of the 19208. Intellectual historians say the onset of World War I chastened the opti- mistic outlook of the intellectual progressives, who, in its aftermath, began to focus on the darker side of the facts being uncovered by the sciendsts and the social scientists. The assumptions of the progress of the human race fell before the new ideas. Psychology stood at the forefront. John B. Watson, the father ofthe behavioral school of psychology, was a major influence. He denied that man had an inner nature, let alone any divine spark or soul. Watson defined the hollow man, one who is merely a product of his culture." Add to this view the ideas of Freud: Man was at center irradonal; his actions must be explained not by reason but by his unconscious drives." As a young intellectual, Walter Lippmann (who will play the central role in this essay) was excited by the ideas of Freud, but saw at once that such a view of human motivation challenged some basic ideas of man-as-voter. On reading Freud in 1912, Lippmann wrote to a friend, "Its polidcal applicadons have hardly begun, though there are a few stray articles here and there."" With Lippmann as one of the leaders, more and more ardcles and books were to come, including many dealing with the problems raised for democratic theory and the role of the press as informer and shaper of public opinion. For the findings of the psychologists — and the grad- ual secularization of public debates — had undermined the philosophi- cal foundation supporting the First Amendment. The concept of free speech had rested on a notion that, in the end, truth will win out over falsehood. In 1644, John Milton had been among the first to say it: "Let her (Truth) and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter."'* By the time of the American Revolution, this durable quality of truth was a given, and it had so remained into the 20th Century. A free press should be allowed so that truth could get into the field of battle, and a free press could be allowed because the falsehood that would certainly enter too would be too weak to cause harm. But if the ideas of the psy- chologists were valid, then most of the assumpdons underlying the belief were invalid. To Milton, for instance. Truth came to earth directly from God, and its discovery by men was part of God's plan ("Truth indeed came once into the world with her Divine Master"'*). Once thinkers discarded the idea of a divine plan for mankind, that much of the argument became dust. In Milton's world, also, truth was strong because humans were both radonal animals and moral ones. Thus, they were able to intuit moral 10. A good popular account of the intellectual currents of the 1920t it found in Vu Ntrvous Ctntralion: Amtriem 7kOT«k/.i9; 7-1930 by Roderick Nash (Chicafo: Rand McNally & Company, 1970). In particular, aee Chapter Three. l l . A i ^ , p . 47 12. aid,, p. 48. 13. Ronald Steel, Walttr Lippmann and tkt Amtrican Ctntury (Boston and Toronto: UttJe, Brown and Comptny, 1960), p. 46. 14. John MGton, Artopagitica. John W. Jales. ed. (London: Oxford UniverBty Press, l»7Si Impreuion of 19S4), pp. 51-52. 15. lUd,. p. 43. Objectivity in Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment 977 truths and rationally determine other ones. While Milton's sectarian view of religion faded with time, the idea of divinely given intuition did not. For instance, traces of Ralph Waldo Emerson's Transcendentalism ("We lie in the lap of immense intelligence, which makes us receivers of its truth...'** can be found in a 1922 editorial by the famous Kansas jour- nalist, William Allen White: "...folly will die of its own poison and wis- dom will survive... It is the proof of man's kinship with God."" But by the definition of the intellectuals of the 1920s, such ideas did not stand the test of objective analysis. The human race was neither allied to the truth through a kinship with God nor was a fully rational fact-gatherer. Instead, human beings saw things as they were stereotyped for them by their culture, and were moved to make conclusions based on their emo- tions, prejudices and desires. Thus truth was no better armed than falsehood in any public grappling. Its status was summarized with cyni- cal certitude by psychology professor Albert T. Poffenberger of Columbia University in 1925. "The truth,' he wrote, "is not a primary factor in determining belief." Instead, belief is determined by "feeling and emotion" and by "desire." "We believe what we want to believe," he concluded." In his 1922 book. Public Opinion, Lippmann applies that belief to the American system of government: It is no longer possible, for example, to believe in the original dogma of democ- racy, that the knowledge needed for the management of human affairs comes up spontaneously from the human heart.. It has been demonstrated that we cannot rely on intuition, conscience, or the accidents oi casual opinion if we are to deal with the world beyond our reach." Without such reliance that truth will win out in a free marketplace of ideas, attention focused on the market itself. And there, the intellectuals found that the contents were tainted by propaganda. During World War I, propagandists, harnessing the new psychology, had been active — and successful — in marshaling public opinion. That success "had brought psychologists, political scientists, and sociologists to a new emphasis on human irrationality and the manipulative procedures employed by dominant social groups."^ In 1922, Lippmann observed that "persuasion has become a self-con- scious art and a regular organ of popular government." This new "knowledge of how to create consent," he wrote, "will alter every politi- cal calculation and modify every political premise."*' The fear that industrial and government publicists, working through a press with a capitalistic bias, were poisoning the wells of information pervaded media discussion in the 1920s. John Dewey, probably the leading intellectual of the time, stated flatly that through the publicity agent "sentiment can be manufactured by mass methods for almost any person or any cause."" 16. Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, text esublished by Alfred R. Ferguson (Cambridge, Mass.: The Bdknap Presa of Harvard University Press, 1979), p. 23. 17. William AUen White. T o an Anxious Friend,' Emporia (Kansas) Cazene, Modem Essays cf Various Tipes, ChaiiesA. Cockayne, ed. (New Yoric: Charles E Merrill Company. 1927), p. 3 1 M 1 6 . 18. AlbertT. Poffcnberger, Psychology in Advertising (New York: McCraw-HiU Book Company, Inc., 192S). p. 544-M5. 19. Walter Lippmann, Public Opinion (New York: The Macmillan Company, Paperback Edibon, Second Printing, 1961), p. 248-249. 20. Purcdl. op. cU., p2S. 21. Walter Lippmann, op. dl., p. 248. 22. John Dewey, T h e United Sute», Incorporated,' Essap in Contemporary Civitixition, C W. Thomas, ed. (New York: The MacMQlan Company, 1931), p. 9. 978 JOURNAUSM QUARTERLY Truly, the view of the 1920s had moved a long way from the Jeffersonian view of U\e omnicompetent citizen, the one who could and would gather facts and who was further graced with the mysteriout (and probabV God-given) ability to intuit truth. Now the citizen had no way of intuiting truth — he was only a creature of his culture. He was not a fact gatherer and user. Propagandists, using symbols, could play on his emotional nature. And publicists could control and taint what few facts he might use in arriving at an opinion. As Iippmann wrote in 1922, T h e practice of demoaacy has turned a corner."^ The concerns were not academic ones: They were ^xirred l>y the Red Scare of 1919 and 1920. In a setting of labor unrest and anar- chist violence, the country reacted with "hysteria and superpatrio- tism."** In a single night in 1920, U\e government arrested more than 4,(XX) persons suspected of being communists.*^ In response, Iippmann — who termed the period "a reign of terror^ and "the blackest reaction our generation has known""—wrote a set of essays central to this study. For those essays, published under the tide. Liberty and the News, contained the blueprint for objective reporting. In them, Iippmann concentrated on press performance, not on die compe- tence of the readers. Concerned that the press was whipping up a jingo- istic right-wing fever in the country, Lippmann wrote that "under the influence of headlines and panicky print, the contafiion of unreason can easily spread through a settled coniniunity."" Lippmann argued that public opinion is formed by propaganda aeat- ed by special interest groups and that govermnent "tends to operate by the impact of controlled opinion upon administration."" Thus, the sources forming public opinion must be accurate. Making them so was "the baac problem of democracy." Everything else depends upon it. Without protection, «gainst propaganda, without standards of evidence, without criteria of emphasis, the living sub- sUnce of all popular decision is exposed to every prejudice and to infinite exploitation." He then sets down the training for a new sort of journalist In doing so he forms what is apparenUy the original definition of objective jour- nalism. With this increase of prestige must go a professional training in journalism in which the ideal of objective testimony is cardinal. The cynicism of the trade needs to be abandoned, for the true patterns of the journalistic apprentice are not the slick persons who scoop the news, but the patient and fearless men of science who have labored to see what the world really is. It does not matter that the news is not susceptible of mathematical statement. In fact,_ just because news is complex and slippery, good reporting requires the exerdse of the highest of scientific virtues. They are the habits of ascribing no more credit bility to a statement than it warrants, a nice sense of the probabilities, and a keen understanding of the quantitative importance of particular facts." 23. Walter Uppmamt. Ibid., p. 24S. 2 4 S t e l ( 1 6 6# , p 2S. IbU., p. 167. 2i.lbid.,p.lfn. 27.AiiL,p.lfi2. 2S. Waltfr Uppniann. Ii»tr4p OTtftt* NiM (New York: Hvcourt. Brace and Howe, 1920). p. S& 29 AM:, p. S . Objectivity in Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment 979 Ljppmann's use of the words objective, science, and scientific are sig- nificant. Adapting the scientific method to human affairs — including journalism — was central to the thought of the decade. As Lippmann wrote, "Only the discipline of a modernized logic can open the door to reality."" "Reality," to Lippmann, meant radical social change. Objective report- ing, as he envisioned it, would not create a passive justification for the status quo, as is often assumed now. Those advancing the idea of apply- ing scientific methods to human affairs — in all areas, not just journal- ism—^were political liberals. They attempted to create a system of val- ues using the scientific method, borrowing from the philosophy of prag- matism expounded by William James and its variant, instrumentalism, set forth by John Dewey. Dewey argued that the practical consequences of believing in an idea should determine its value.^The concept — an important one to grasp if one is to understand the impetus behind the creation of the theory of press objectivity—was stated well by Harold D. Lasswell, a leading political scientist: ...those who commit themselves to human dignity, not indignity, are con- cerned with operating in the present in ways that increase the probability that coming events will conform to their preference profile... If a large degree of freedom of communication is postulated as a long-run goal (as a partial real- ization of human dignity), scientific work can proceed by searching for the "myths" and "techniques" that work for or against freedom. All the available tools of theory formation, and of data gathering and processing, can be mobi- lized to accomplish the task.** If one applies that same principle to "scientific" journalism, it becomes both valueladen and fact-based. Lippmann had addressed Liberty and the News to those embracing "organized labor and militant liberalism."" He urged them to pay less attention to publishing "gallant little sheets expressing particular programmes"" and instead to join forces in creating a news service that would give the facts. "We shall advance...when we have learned to seek the truth, to reveal it and pub- lish it; when we care more for that than for the privilege of arguing about ideas in a fog of uncertainty."'' This belieP in the power of objective fact to bring about social change is echoed in the closing passage of a 1924 book on journalistic ethics: The process of attaining this condition of affairs (of testing opinions rather than preconceiving them) may not be a short one; it will doubtless seem unnecessarily long to those who believe that righteousness will immediately triumph if but given the aid of a few new laws or at most a new social and eco- 32. aid., p. 86. 33. Tht NtwEncydopatdia Britmnica, Vol. 6 (Micropadia). (Chicago, etc Encyclopaedia Britannica. Inc., 1988). p. 334. 34. Harold Laaswdl. in 1969 Introduction,' Propaganda and Promotional Adivitia, an AnnolaUd Bibliography, Ua«weU. Caaey. and Smith, eda. (Chicago: The Univer^ty of Chicago Press. 1935, reissued 1969) p. xviii-ix 35. IippRiana Uitrty and tkt Ntvs, p 101. 36. Ibid., p. loe. 37.AtaL,p. 104. ?*• By 1822. when Public Opinion was published, Uppmann had lost some of his laith in the power of lact to ahape public opinion. Taking a Freudian view, Lippmann queatjoned the bet gathering and fact-using abilibea of cilizen«over- nora. and pointed out that the complexities of the modem world made it impossible for even the best fact-gatherer to be "eU veraed enough on issues to make sound deciaiona. Even so, his thoughts on the way journ^iais ahoukl do their job did not change. 980 JOURNAUSM QUARTERLY nomic tyttem. Yet,when one contidert the progreM made in Oie natural td- ences in a relatively brief time against great oddt, one may well wonder if perchance the accomplithment of similar ends in journaUsm may not come sooner than is commonly expected." The author of that passage. Nelson Antrim Crawford, was an early proponent of harnessing Uie scientific method to journalism. The head of the Department of Industrial Journalism at Kansas State Agricultural College, Crawford published a book titled The Ethics of Joumalim in 1924. Tlie citation above is typiad of his approach. He quotes liberafly from Iippmann's works (seven citations and numerous segments under "recommended reading"). His second major source appears to be Instincts of the Herd in Peace and War by W. Trotter. One more citation from Crawford will round out the picture of the new journalism, as seen by a professor. In a school maintaining professional ideals, there must also be such a curricu- lum as will still further develop the natural intelligence and objectiveminded- ness of prospective journalists... It must supply the scientific basis for under- standing the vast technical developments of contemporary civilization. It must furnish training in what constitutes evidence, in order that the future reporter may not be misled by intentional or unintentional attempts to deceive him.* A few other professors picked up the theme. In a 1927 article, for instance, Eric W. Allen, journalism dean at the University of Oregon, wrote: If journalism means anything more than a mere trade and a technique, it must be based upon some depth of understanding. If it is, or is to become, a real profession — one of the learned professions — the thing the competent Jour nalist must understand is the scientific bases of current life... The chance for our young senior to integrate his knowledge into a social philosophy, to use it as material for developing habits of accurate thinidng, and to acquire the tech- nique of bringing scientific principles into his daily handling of current events is entirely lacking." The new ideas that newspapers should downplay emotionalism, cut out opinion and adopt the scientific method were spread to working journalists in a variety of ways. For illustration, the following messages were delivered to editors attending the annual meetings of the American Society of Newspaper Editors between 1925 and 1930. 1925. Lippmann himself addressed the group, as did a magazine edi- tor who said that the newspaper practice of having a "policy" (3 stated platform of its beliefs and aims) had done "more harm dian good." He chaiiged that too many editors approached their jobs "from the point of view of the moralist rather than the point of view of the engineer or the scientist."" 1926. A Washington correspondent for the London Times told edi- tors that their readers are "emotional rather than intellectual."** 1928. Famed attorney Clarence Darrow stated that a human being 39. Ndson Anlrim Crawford, Vte EOtia ̂ Journalim (New Yoric Alftcd A. Knopl 19M ) p. 17& 4O.Ai<,pp. 17M72. 4L Erfc W. ADen. Vounialiaffi a* Applied Social SdcnM.*/M(rM(iaM A(Br<M. VBI. IV (M«ch US71 p. 1P7 42 GlcnnFVinliunlitled rttturiail'ntltms^Jturnaliim:f^»emdiiu$^lktAmariemSatUv^MJ^^L42. GlcnnVinli. VoL m (1925). p. lSa 43. Wilfflont H. Lewi*, ITie Political Job of Old Worid Newmapcra anl How Ihcw Do IL* A M f a u ->• - - - tttdinm¥fl^AmeruanSadtty^NimH0«rE^larMVoiIVp4i —wjtumw^ Objectivity in Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment 981 "is nothing but an organism that acts and reacts according to the sdm- uli applied."" And a Methodist minister, saying that his generation wished to be free of dogmadsm, said that the past's great editors, such as Horace Greeley, "could not hold their reading public today any more than... Jonathan Edwards and Peter Cartwright could retain their parishioners."** 1929. A Kansas editor and lawmaker. Sen. Arthur Capper, told edi- tors, "'It is not the dme for dogmatism or the closed mind. The old-dme editorial writer, however effective for another age, would not fit well."̂ * 1930. Ray Lyman Wilbur, secretary of the interior, told editors that in a complex, technological world, decisions must be made on the basis of fact, not emotion. "The quesdon is how are we going to train the peo- ple of a democracy so that they will look to the man who knows for decisions, rather than simply to someone who yells the loudest..."*^ Apparendy, the repeated message had an effect. By 1931, Walter Uppmann, who had been serving as editor of the New York World, thought that journalism had changed dramatically — and in his opinion for the better. Writing in the Yale Review, he called the move toward objecdvity a "revolution: The most impressive event of the last decade in the history of newspapers has been the demonstration that the objective, orderly, and comprehensive pre- sentation of news is a far more successful type of journalism tCKlay than the dramatic, disorderly, episodic type" The latter type, Uppmann argued, made newspapers the slave of the reader, adapdng copy to reach the highest circuladon figures. Because the new type of journalism seeks "the approximadon to objective fact, it is free also of subserviency to the whims of the public." In the following passage, Lippmann sums up his idea of objective journalism, his hopes for it and the means for achieving it: The strength of this type of journalism will, I think, be cumulative because it opens the door to the use of trained intelligence in newspaper work. The older type of popular joumalism was a romantic art dependent largely on the virtuosity of men like Bennett, Hearst, and Pulitzer It succeeded if tke directing mind had a flair for popular success; it failed if the springs of genius dried up. The new objec- tive joumalism is a less temperamental affair, for it deals with solider realities..* I do not know much about the schools of journalism, and I cannot say, there- fore, whether they are vocational courses designed to teach the unteachable art of the old romantic journalism or professional schools aiming somehow to prepare men for the new objective journalism. 1 suspect, however, that schools of journalism in the professional sense will not exist generally until journalism has been practiced for some time as a profession. It has never yet been a pro- 44. Qarence Darrow, "This is What I Don't Like About the Newspapers,' Problems tf Joumalism Procttdings tftkt Amtrican Stdtly ofNtuspaptr Editors, Vol. VI, p. 63 45. Ralph Sockman, "This Is What I Dont Uke About the Newspapers,* Proiltnu of Joumalism: hocttdings cftkt Amtrican Sodtly of Ntwspaptr Editors. Vol. VI. p. 77. 46. Arthur Capper, 'Is the Editorial Page on the Way Oui'* Proiltms cf Joumatism: Procttdings of tkt Amtrican Sodtly ef Ntwspaptr EdUon. Vol. VU, p. 69 47. Raymond Wilbur, 'What Chancing Conditions Conlront Us,* Probltms of Joumalism: Procttdings of tkt Amtrican Sodtty of Ntwspaptr EdUon.\o\.wn (1930),p. 14(M2. 48. Walter Lippmann, Two Revolutions in the American Press,' Yalt Rtvitw. 20:433-441 (March 1931), p. 439. 49. ItaUcs added. That Lippmann was seeking to harness the scientific method to joumalism can be heard in the way his words in the italicized segment echo the writings of the man often called the bther o( the scientific method. Sir Frand* Bacon: "But the course I propose . . leaves but bttJe to the acutenew and strength of wits, but places all wita *nd understandings nearly on a level. For as in the drawing of a straight line or a perfect circle, much depends on the steadineasandpracticeofthehand.if itbedoneby aim of hand only, but if with the aid ofruleofcompass, little or noth- ing.* Novum Ofganum, from Tht Works tf Francis Bacon. James Spedding, e t aJ . editors (New York: Hurd and Houghton,1869),p. 89. 982 JOURNALISM QUARTERLY fession. It has been at times a digniHed calling, at others a ronuntic adventure, and then again a servile trade. But a profession it could not begin to be until modern objective journalism was successfully created, and with it the need of men who would consider themselves devoted, as all the professional ideally are, to the service of truth alone." Clearly, Lippmann believed that journalistic practice had changed dramatically since the end of World War 1, and that the concept of scien- tific objectivity was a chief agent of that change. It is difficult to assess the accuracy of that view. Certainly change had occurred as journalists struggled to adapt from the Progressive Era with its moral certitude to an era when, in the words of Senator Capper, "uncertainties have replaced certainties" and "diversity and complexity have succeeded general optimism on religious, political, social, industrial, moral and economic questions."^' In measuring the change, it must be remembered that when the decade began, many papers still aligned themselves with a political party and that almost all newspapers had policies — issue positions that were to be reflected in the news columns. As one writer and editor of that day observed, when Pulitzer's New York World took on an issue like the formation of the League of Nations, "Every department was called into action."" And Henry Watterson, editor oi Louisville Courier-Journal, wrote, "The leading dailies everywhere stand for something. They are rarely without aspirations."" As for party affiliation, as late as 1931, in an article titled "The Party Flag Comes Down," an author writes in wonder, "How strange a day it will be when this, oi all nations, finds the partisan newspaper the excep- tion and no longer the rule! That day is coming though."" With such examples, it can be shown that journalism norms were changing during the decade covered in this essay, and that the cultural climate had played a part in creating them. But an economic force was at work as well. It was in the 1920s that merger of newspapers began in earnest. Whereas only about 55% of American cities had only one daily in 1920, the figure had climbed to 71.5% by 1930." When a Republican and a Democratic paper in a city were merged, editors had to find a substitute for the partisan approach to journalism. The objective approach provided such an alternative. But the Lippmann-espoused objectivity, which was seated in the broader cultural movement of scientific naturalism, was rigorous and difficult. By the time objectivity became enough a part of the working vocabulary of journalists to make its way into textbooks, its meaning was diluted. A 1935 text deals with the subject this way: "Reporters for the most part write entirely objectively and keep themselves and their opinions out of their stories."^ Objectivity had shrunk from a methodology needed to preserve so. Ai^,pp.44(M41. 51. Arthur Capper, op. cit., p. 69. 52. Allan Nevina, American Press Opinion, Boston, New York, etc.: D. C Heath & Compwy, 1928), p. 4S4. 53. Henry Watterwn, The Personal Equation in Journalism,' in The hvfession of Journalism; a coUedion particles on new^aper editing and publishing taken from Ihe Atlantic Monthly (Boston: The Atlantic Monthly Press, 1923), p. 104. 54. WiUiam Preston Beazell. T h e Party Flag Comes Down.* Atlantic Monthly, 147:366-672 (March, 1931), p. 367. S& Edwin Emery and Michael Emery, iti\ Edition, The f^tss and America (Englewood Clifb, NT- Prentice-HalL Inc. 1978), p. 430. 56. Philip W Porter and Norvan Neil Luxon, The Reporter and Ihe News (New York and Londoa- AppletofvCenturr Company, 1935). p. 61. Objectivity in Journalism: A Search and a Reassessment 983 democracy to a practical posture of day-to-day production. As the same textbook pointed out, "Editors have realized that readers... are likely to be distributed among all parties."" 57./»ii,p. 119. 
work_7ornbmqiereglp6iganas3cpca	----	Persuasion in Experimental Ultimatum Games Persuasion in Experimental Ultimatum Games Ola Andersson Matteo M. Galizzi Tim Hoppe Sebastian Kranz Karen van der Wiel Erik Wengström FEMM Working Paper No. 20, August 2008 OTTO-VON-GUERICKE-UNIVERSITY MAGDEBURG FACULTY OF ECONOMICS AND MANAGEMENT F E M M Faculty of Economics and Management Magdeburg W orking Pa per Se ries Otto-von-Guericke-University Magdeburg Faculty of Economics and Management P.O. Box 4120 39016 Magdeburg, Germany http://www.ww.uni-magdeburg.de/ http://www.ww.uni-magdeburg.de/ 1 Persuasion in Experimental Ultimatum Games Ola Andersson1, Matteo M. Galizzi*2, Tim Hoppe3, Sebastian Kranz4, Karen van der Wiel5 and Erik Wengström6 7 Abstract. This paper experimentally studies persuasion effects in ultimatum games and finds that Proposers' payoffs significantly increase if, along with offers, they can send messages which Responders read before their acceptance decision. Higher payoffs are due to higher acceptance rates as well as more aggressive offers by Proposers. JEL Classification: C72, C91, D83. Keywords: Communication in Games; Cheap Talk. 1. Introduction Speech is power: speech is to persuade, to convert, to compel. It is to bring another out of his bad sense into your good sense. (Ralph Waldo Emerson, American essayist and poet, 1876) The opportunity to communicate may be used in many bargaining situations when attempting to persuade the counterparty into accepting a particular offer. But does such communication have any effect? The question seems especially relevant in simple interactions under complete information where any verbal announcement is classified as cheap talk by traditional economic theory. This paper studies the effects of one-way communication by Proposers in experimental ultimatum games (UG). Proposers' messages may persuade a Responder to accept a certain offer and, if such persuasion effects are anticipated, Proposers may also adapt their offer. In particular, a sufficiently self-interested Proposer should combine an expectedly persuasive message with a suitable offer in order to increase his expected 1 Stockholm School of Economics. 2 * Corresponding author: Department of Economics, University of Brescia, Via San Faustino 74b, 25122 Brescia, Italy. E-mail: galizzi@eco.unibs.it. Phone: +39 030 2988821. Fax: +39 030 2988837. 3 University of Magdeburg. 4 University of Bonn. 5 Tilburg University and IZA. 6 University of Copenhagen. 7 The authors gratefully acknowledge financial and technical support from CentERLab at the Faculty of Economics and Business Administration of Tilburg University and thank for their comments and suggestions Jan Potters, Daniel Houser, Tore Ellingsen, Carsten Schmidt, the participants to the 6th Mannheim Empirical Research Summer School at Mannheim University and the participants to the 26th Arne Ryde Symposium on Communication in Games and Experiments at Lund University. 2 payoff. We test the hypothesis that persuasion indeed increases Proposers’ average payoffs. There are potentially confounding factors at play, since messages may not only affect Responders, but also influence Proposers’ emotions and preferences over monetary outcomes. For example, a Proposer may experience guilt when making a low offer, but may find relief from sending an apology or explanation for the low offer. Alternatively, Proposers may enjoy a positive self-image when making a high offer and such a feeling may be intensified by sending a friendly message to the Responder. We refer to such effects as self-image effects. In order to disentangle persuasion and self-image effects, we propose an experimental design with three versions of the UG: a standard UG without communication (treatment N) and two treatments (B and A) in which the Proposer can compose a free form message before she submits her offer. In treatment B the Responder sees the message before she makes her acceptance decision while in treatment A the Responder sees the message only after she has made her decision. Thus, persuasion effects are not present in treatment A and we can attribute differences in outcomes between treatments A and N to self-image effects of the Proposer. In contrast, differences between treatments B and N capture both persuasion and self-image effects. We therefore identify persuasion effects as the differences between treatment B and treatment A. Our finding is that persuasion effects indeed led to an increase in Proposers’ payoffs. On average Proposers’ payoffs in treatment B were 14,5% higher than in treatment A. Increased payoffs were due to both higher acceptance rates as well as reduced offers in treatment B, compared to treatment A. We do not find any significant influence of self- image effects on Proposers’ offers. 2. Previous experimental evidence Alternative forms of communication in games have been analyzed earlier in the experimental literature. Rankin (2003) used an UG in which the Responder could request an amount of money before the Proposer made her offer. Rankin found that average offers and Responders' payoffs were lower in the treatment where requests by Responders were possible. The results by Rankin (2003) differ from the finding of a related study by Xiao and Houser (2005), where Responders in an UG were given the opportunity to send messages along with their decisions to accept or to reject the Proposers’ offers. Xiao and Houser (2005) found that this led to significantly lower rejection rates of unfair offers and gave the interpretation that people facing unfair economic exchanges tend to substitute emotion expression for relatively more costly material punishment The finding by Xiao and Houser (2005) has been complemented by two further experimental studies. Xiao and Houser (2007) compared a standard dictator game with 3 one, otherwise identical, in which, after Dictators’ decisions, Receivers had the opportunity to write a message to their respective Dictators and found that,profit- maximizing offers were less frequent when Responders had the opportunity of emotion expression. In a related work, Ellingsen and Johannesson (2008) studied pairwise interactions in which a Dictator decided how to split a sum of money between herself and a Receiver. who, thereafter, could send an unrestricted message to the Dictator. Ellingsen and Johannesson (2008) found that donations increased substantially when Receivers could communicate: with verbal feedback, the frequency of zero donations decreased from about 40 to 20%, with a corresponding increase in the frequency of equal splits from about 30 to 50%. Our work may be seen as complementing the previous studies in that we let Proposers, instead of Responders, to communicate. While our frame did not allow us to study the effect of emotion expression by Responders, we focused on the role of persuasion. In the light of persuasion, Proposers may have more to gain from communication since they can plea for rationality in the form of subgame perfection. 3. Experimental design We invited 76 students from Tilburg University to participate to our experiment. Subjects were divided into 6 sessions, taking place in CentERLab. Subjects were given aloud and written instructions of the experiment. At the beginning of the experiment, subjects were randomly assigned the role of either Proposers or Responders. In each treatment every Proposer was randomly matched with one different Responder. The Proposer had to decide how many points X between 0 and 100 to offer to the Responder. The Responder then learned the Proposer’s offer and could either accept or reject it. In case of acceptance, the Responder’s payoff was X points, and the Proposer’s payoff was 100-X points. In case of rejection, both subjects earned 0 points. We employed three different treatments: 1. N (no communication): A standard UG without communication 2. B (Responder got message before her decision): The Proposer sent a message together with his offer which the Responder read before she decided to accept or to reject. 3. A (Responder got message after her decision): Like B, but the Responder read the message after she decided to accept or reject. 4 The experiment used a within design where all subjects in a session played each of three different treatments one time. Subjects knew in advance that there would be three different treatments and that in each treatment they were going to be matched with a different opponent, but did not know the content of the subsequent treatments before these were played. Moreover, subjects kept the same role of Proposer/Responder across all three treatments. Proposers were informed about their Responders' decisions only at the end of the experiment. To control for order effects, we employed a counterbalanced design containing the following six sequences with different orderings of the treatments: NAB, NBA, ANB, ABN, BNA, BAN. We designed and ran the experiment using z-Tree (Fischbacher 2007). A show-up fee of 2.50€ was paid to subjects. In addition, participants received their pay-out of one randomly drawn game converted at a rate of 0.10€ per point. The 76 participating subjects spent about half an hour in the lab and earned on average 6.60€ each. 4. Results Table 1 shows Proposers' average payoffs in the three treatments. In line with our hypothesis, average payoffs in treatment B were 14.5% larger than in treatment A. Since payoffs strongly differed between accepted and rejected offers, standard deviations were quite high, however. Table 1: Proposers’ payoffs across treatments Treatment Proposers' average payoffs Standard deviation N 42.87 27.23 A 41.71 26.31 B 47.76 27.06 Within subjects, 15 of the 38 Proposers received higher payoffs in treatment B than in treatment A, while only 6 Proposers had lower payoffs; for 17 Proposers payoffs were the same. A one-sided sign test confirms the hypothesis of positive persuasion effects at a 95% significance level (p-value = 0.039). The persuasion effect appears to be driven by a combination of lower offers and increased acceptance rates. Out of the 15 Proposers who achieved higher payoffs in treatment B than in treatment A, 9 made lower offers in treatment B, while 6 subjects made the same offer in both treatments that was only accepted in treatment B. The full distribution of offers and acceptance rates across treatments are shown in Table 2. Average offers were slightly lower and average acceptance rates were slightly higher in treatment B than in both treatments A and N, which show very similar aggregated outcomes. In particular, for low offers acceptance rates were higher in treatment B. Taken together, our finding indicates the presence of persuasion effects, while no systematic self-image effects can be found. 5 Table 2: Offers and acceptance rates across treatments. Treatment N Treatment A Treatment B Offer No. of offers Accept. Rate No. of offers Accept. rate No. of offers Accept. Rate 10 1 0 1 1 20 1 1 1 1 2 1 25 1 1 2 0 1 1 30 9 0.55 7 0,43 8 0.63 32 1 0 35 3 0.33 4 0,5 5 0.4 40 8 0.63 7 0,86 9 0.78 45 3 1 2 1 50 11 1 13 1 11 1 55 1 1 1 1 56 1 1 60 1 1 Avg. offer / accep. rate 39.8 0.74 39.6 0.74 38.4 0.79 References Ellingsen, Tore and Magnus Johannesson (2008): Anticipated Verbal Feedback Induces Altruistic Behavior, Evolution and Human Behavior, forthcoming. Fischbacher, Urs (2007): z-Tree: Zurich Toolbox for Ready-made Economic Experiments, Experimental Economics 10(2), 171-178. Rankin, Frederick W. (2003): Communication in Ultimatum Games, Economics Letters, Elsevier, vol. 81(2), 267-271. Xiao, Erte and Daniel Houser (2005): Emotion Expression in Human Punishment Behavior, Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences , 102(20), 7398-7401 Xiao, Erte and Daniel Houser (2007): Emotion Expression and Fairness in Economic Exchange, George Mason University. 6 Appendix: Sample instructions Instructions for B treatment You have now been matched with another subject and together the two of you form a pair. One member of each pair is designated Proposer and the other is designated Responder. If you are Proposer you will choose a proposal on how to divide 100 points between you and the Responder. If you are Responder you will be presented with the Proposer's offer and you have a choice to either accept or reject it. Whatever offer the Proposer makes, • if the Responder accepts, then he/she will receive the amount offered and the Proposer will receive 100 points minus the amount offered; • if the Responder rejects, both will receive 0 points. At the same time as the Proposer makes the offer he/she has the possibility to send a message to the Responder. This message will be displayed to the Responder at the same time as she/he sees the Proposer's offer. Please note: Foul language and threatening messages are not allowed. After both of you have made your choices you will be re-matched with a new subject and you will be given a new sheet of instructions. You will not know with whom you are paired either during or after the experiment. To help you understand the structure of the experiment we have also included screen shots below If you are the Proposer you will see the following screen: If you are the Responder you will see the following screen: 7 Instructions for A treatment […] At the same time as the Proposer makes the offer he/she has the possibility to send a message to the Responder. This message will be displayed to the Responder after she/he has decided to accept or reject the offer. […] If you are the Proposer you will see the following screen: The Responder first sees this screen: 8 After making a decision the Responder sees this screen: 
work_7tiltophxveo7bf53m6wmg53ja	----	www.ipej.org 379 Editorial AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function Shomu Bohora, MD U.N. Mehta Institute for Cardiology and Research Centre, Civil Hospital Campus, Ahmedabad, India Address for Correspondence: Shomu Bohora, MD, Assistant Professor, U.N. Mehta Institute for Cardiology and Research Centre, Civil Hospital Campus, Ahmedabad, India. E-mail: shomubohora/at/yahoo.com Keywords: AV Interval Optimization, Physiological Pacing "In wilderness I sense the miracle of life, and behind it our scientific accomplishments fade to trivia." Charles A. Lindbergh. Pacemakers have evolved over a period of time trying to mimic the normal response rates, conduction and activation characteristics, though are still far from what nature has bestowed upon us. Better understanding of cardiac physiology and hemodynamics has led to current available pacing technology and we do recognize now that to achieve physiological pacing we should have an appropriate heart rate response, ventriculo-ventricular (VV) synchronization and atrio- ventricular (AV) synchronization. Patients receiving rate responsive pacemakers for sinus node dysfunction, in spite of using various sensors and rate response algorithms, [1-5] still do not truly have an appropriate heart rate response, especially in absence of physical stress. There is a need to develop sensors, based on which an algorithm can be developed to achieve a heart rate response, which truly mimics to what a normal sinus node would behave in response to both physical and mental stress. In patients with heart block who have atrial sensing based ventricular pacing, the heart rate response remains appropriate if the sinus node is normal. Right ventricular (RV) pacing represents a non-physiological activation of the heart causing wide QRS (left bundle branch block) with electrical and mechanical VV dyssynchrony.[5] Higher percentage of ventricular pacing in patients with intact AV node has been found to be associated with increased incidence of atrial fibrillation and heart failure on follow up. [6-10] Algorithms to prevent ventricular pacing are effective in reducing unnecessary ventricular pacing in patients with normal AV conduction and sick sinus syndrome. However these algorithms cannot be applied to patients with advanced heart block in which there is need for mandatory ventricular pacing. To avoid detrimental effects of VV synchrony alternate site RV pacing [11-15] and biventricular pacing have been described. [16,17] Alternate site pacing studies have shown mixed results. [11-15] Left sided lead placement, non-physiological epicardial pacing and procedure and pacing related complications with the higher overall cost involved in doing biventricular pacing procedure represents a significant limitation for advising it as a routine. VV dyssynchrony possibly would remain a limitation in achieving total physiological pacing till further conclusive evidence of newer pacing methods is demonstrated. Optimal AV interval at rest ranges from 100 to 150 milliseconds. In normal individuals the AV Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal (ISSN 0972-6292), 10 (9): 379-382 (2010) Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 380 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” interval shortens with increased heart rate during exercise in a predictable and linear fashion. Most pacemakers have a programmable shortening of AV delay at higher rates, the hemodynamic benefits of which have not yet been shown. [1] The aim of optimizing AV delay in patients with heart failure is to increase diastolic filling and at the same time maintain biventricular pacing so as to maximize cardiac output. In patients with heart failure and LV dysfunction even a small improvement in cardiac output, as obtained by optimizing AV delay, may result in significant clinical improvement. AV optimization is routinely done using echocardiographic techniques of which Ritter's method is the most commonly used. [18] Device based algorithms like QuickOpt is also available and is currently being evaluated for its effectiveness in comparison to echocardiographic methods. [19] Optimizing AV synchrony and hence AV delay is routinely not advised in patients receiving pacemakers without heart failure. An electrocardiogram based method to determine optimal AV interval is described by Sorajja et al [20] in this issue of the journal, in which P wave duration correlates with a correction factor of 1.26 with an optimal AV interval, as determined by Ritter's method of AV optimization on echocardiography. Such simple technique can be used for effectively programming optimal AV delay routinely once validation by large trials occur, so as to achieve better hemodynamics without the need for time consuming echocardiographic techniques or till the time echocardiographic optimization is routinely planned. This study, though with its limitations of having a small cohort of elderly patients and optimization evaluated only at rest, presents an attractive alternative to echocardiography based techniques to calculate and program optimal AV delay. Based on echocardiographic parameters and natriuretic peptide levels, AV delay optimization is found to be beneficial in patients with normal LV function in short term small studies. [21-25] There exists hardly any long term study to demonstrate benefits of routine optimization of AV delay in patients having normal LV function and receiving pacemakers for heart block. Hence it would be difficult to justify echocardiography based AV optimization in all such patients. However it seems appropriate to aim to program an optimal AV delay in all patients receiving pacemakers, based on data from heart failure patients and short term studies. Can the findings of this study be extrapolated for use in AV optimization in patients treated with devices for heart failure? Larger studies in patients with and without LV dysfunction and heart failure would be required to validate the results of this pilot study for incorporating it in clinical practice to achieve better long term outcomes. We still have a long way to go before we can mimic with pacemakers the normal electrical activity of the heart. Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience - Ralph Waldo Emerson Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better - Albert Einstein References 1. Buckingham TA, Janosik DL, Pearson AC. Pacemaker hemodynamics: clinical implications. Prog Cardiovasc Dis. 1992 ;34:347-66. 2. Israel CW, Hohnloser SH. Current status of dual-sensor pacemaker systems for correction of chronotropic incompetence. Am J Cardiol. 2000;86(9A):86K-94K. 3. Dell'Orto S, Valli P, Greco EM. Sensors for rate responsive pacing. Indian Pacing Electrophysiol J. 2004;4:137-45. 4. Chandiramani S, Cohorn LC, Chandiramani S. Heart rate changes during acute mental stress with closed loop stimulation: report on two single-blinded, pacemaker studies. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2007;30:976-84. Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal (ISSN 0972-6292), 10 (9): 379-382 (2010) Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 381 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” 5. Lau CP, Tai YT, Leung WH, Wong CK, Lee P, Chung FL. Rate adaptive pacing in sick sinus syndrome: effects of pacing modes and intrinsic conduction on physiological responses, arrhythmias, symptomatology and quality of life. Eur Heart J. 1994 Nov;15(11):1445-55. 6. Tops LF, Schalij MJ, Bax JJ. The effects of right ventricular apical pacing on ventricular function and dyssynchrony implications for therapy. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 Aug 25;54(9):764- 76. 7. Albertsen AE, Nielsen JC. Selecting the appropriate pacing mode for patients with sick sinus syndrome: evidence from randomized clinical trials. Card Electrophysiol Rev. 2003 Dec;7(4):406-10. 8. Hesselson AB, Parsonnet V, Bernstein AD, Bonavita GJ. Deleterious effects of long-term single-chamber ventricular pacing in patients with sick sinus syndrome: the hidden benefits of dual-chamber pacing. Am Coll Cardiol. 1992 Jun;19(7):1542-9. 9. Wilkoff BL, Cook JR, Epstein AE, Greene HL, Hallstrom AP, Hsia H, Kutalek SP, Sharma A. Dual-chamber pacing or ventricular backup pacing in patients with an implantable defibrillator: the Dual Chamber and VVI Implantable Defibrillator (DAVID) Trial. JAMA. 2002 Dec 25;288(24):3115-23. 10. Wilkoff BL, Kudenchuk PJ, Buxton AE, Sharma A, Cook JR, Bhandari AK, Biehl M, Tomassoni G, Leonen A, Klevan LR, Hallstrom AP. The DAVID (Dual Chamber and VVI Implantable Defibrillator) II trial. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 Mar 10;53(10):872-80. 11. Sweeney MO, Prinzen FW. A new paradigm for physiologic ventricular pacing. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2006 Jan 17;47(2):282-8. 12. Siu CW, Wang M, Zhang XH, Lau CP, Tse HF. Analysis of ventricular performance as a function of pacing site and mode. Prog Cardiovasc Dis. 2008 Sep-Oct;51(2):171-82. 13. Ng AC, Allman C, Vidaic J, Tie H, Hopkins AP, Leung DY. Long-term impact of right ventricular septal versus apical pacing on left ventricular synchrony and function in patients with second- or third-degree heart block. Am J Cardiol. 2009 Apr 15;103(8):1096-101. 14. Kaye G, Stambler BS, Yee R. Search for the optimal right ventricular pacing site: design and implementation of three randomized multicenter clinical trials. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2009 Apr;32(4):426-33. 15. Tse HF, Wong KK, Siu CW, Zhang XH, Ho WY, Lau CP. Upgrading pacemaker patients with right ventricular apical pacing to right ventricular septal pacing improves left ventricular performance and functional capacity. J Cardiovasc Electrophysiol. 2009 Aug;20(8):901-5. 16. van Geldorp IE, Vernooy K, Delhaas T, Prins MH, Crijns HJ, Prinzen FW, Dijkman B. Beneficial effects of biventricular pacing in chronically right ventricular paced patients with mild cardiomyopathy. Europace. 2010 Feb;12(2):223-9. 17. Delnoy PP, Ottervanger JP, Luttikhuis HO, Elvan A, Misier AR, Beukema WP, van Hemel NM. Long-term clinical response of cardiac resynchronization after chronic right ventricular pacing. Am J Cardiol. 2009 Jul 1;104(1):116-21. 18. Barold SS, Ilercil A, Herweg B. Echocardiographic optimization of the atrioventricular and interventricular intervals during cardiac resynchronization. Europace. 2008 Nov;10 Suppl 3:iii88- 95. Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal (ISSN 0972-6292), 10 (9): 379-382 (2010) Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 382 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” 19. Abraham WT, Gras D, Yu CM, Guzzo L, Gupta MS. Rationale and design of a randomized clinical trial to assess the safety and efficacy of frequent optimization of cardiac resynchronization therapy: the Frequent Optimization Study Using the QuickOpt Method (FREEDOM) trial. Am Heart J. 2010 Jun;159(6):944-948.e1. 20. Dan Sorajja, Mayurkumar D Bhakta, Luis RP Scott, Gregory T Altemose, Komandoor Srivathsan. Utilization of Electrocardiographic P-wave Duration for AV Interval Optimization in Dual-Chamber Pacemakers. Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal; 2010; 10(9):383-392. 21. Leonelli FM, Wang K, Youssef M, Hall R, Brown D. Systolic and diastolic effects of variable atrioventricular delay in patients with complete heart block and normal ventricular function. Am J Cardiol. 1997 Aug 1;80(3):294-8. 22. Cristina Porciani M, Fantini F, Musilli N, Sabini A, Michelucci A, Colella A, Pieragnoli P, Demarchi G, Padeletti L. A perspective on atrioventricular delay optimization in patients with a dual chamber pacemaker. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2004 Mar;27(3):333-8. 23. Styliadis IH, Gouzoumas NI, Karvounis HI, Papadopoulos CE, Efthimiadis GK, Karamouzis M, Parharidis GE, Louridas GE. Effects of variation of atrioventricular interval on left ventricular diastolic filling dynamics and atrial natriuretic peptide levels in patients with DDD pacing for complete heart block. Europace. 2005 Nov;7(6):576-83. 24. Panou FK, Kafkas NV, Michelakakis NA, Matsakas EP, Dounis GB, Kouvousis NM, Perpinia AS, Zacharoulis AA. Effect of different AV delays on left ventricular diastolic function and ANF levels in DDD paced hypertensive patients during daily activity and exercise. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 1999 Apr;22 (4 Pt 1):635-42. 25. Ritter P, Padeletti L, Gillio-Meina L, Gaggini G. Determination of the optimal atrioventricular delay in DDD pacing. Comparison between echo and peak endocardial acceleration measurements. Europace. 1999 Apr;1(2):126-30. Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal (ISSN 0972-6292), 10 (9): 379-382 (2010) Shomu Bohora, MD U.N. Mehta Institute for Cardiology and Research Centre, Civil Hospital Campus,  Ahmedabad, India Address for Correspondence: Shomu Bohora, MD, Assistant Professor, U.N. Mehta Institute for Cardiology and Research Centre, Civil Hospital Campus, Ahmedabad, India. E-mail: shomubohora/at/yahoo.com Keywords: AV Interval Optimization, Physiological Pacing "In wilderness I sense the miracle of life, and behind it our scientific accomplishments fade to trivia."  Charles A. Lindbergh. Pacemakers have evolved over a period of time trying to mimic the normal response rates, conduction and activation characteristics, though are still far from what nature has bestowed upon us. Better understanding of cardiac physiology and hemodynamics has led to current available pacing technology and we do recognize now that to achieve physiological pacing we should have an appropriate heart rate response, ventriculo-ventricular (VV) synchronization and atrio-ventricular (AV) synchronization. Patients receiving rate responsive pacemakers for sinus node dysfunction, in spite of using various sensors and rate response algorithms, [1-5] still do not truly have an appropriate heart rate response, especially in absence of physical stress. There is a need to develop sensors, based on which an algorithm can be developed to achieve a heart rate response, which truly mimics to what a normal sinus node would behave in response to both physical and mental stress. In patients with heart block who have atrial sensing based ventricular pacing, the heart rate response remains appropriate if the sinus node is normal. Right ventricular (RV) pacing represents a non-physiological activation of the heart causing wide QRS (left bundle branch block) with electrical and mechanical VV dyssynchrony.[5] Higher percentage of ventricular pacing in patients with intact AV node has been found to be associated with increased incidence of atrial fibrillation and heart failure on follow up. [6-10] Algorithms to prevent ventricular pacing are effective in reducing unnecessary ventricular pacing in patients with normal AV conduction and sick sinus syndrome. However these algorithms cannot be applied to patients with advanced heart block in which there is need for mandatory ventricular pacing. To avoid detrimental effects of VV synchrony alternate site RV pacing [11-15] and biventricular pacing have been described. [16,17] Alternate site pacing studies have shown mixed results. [11-15] Left sided lead placement, non-physiological epicardial pacing and procedure and pacing related complications with the higher overall cost involved in doing biventricular pacing procedure represents a significant limitation for advising it as a routine. VV dyssynchrony possibly would remain a limitation in achieving total physiological pacing till further conclusive evidence of newer pacing methods is demonstrated. Optimal AV interval at rest ranges from 100 to 150 milliseconds. In normal individuals the AV Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 380 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” interval shortens with increased heart rate during exercise in a predictable and linear fashion. Most pacemakers have a programmable shortening of AV delay at higher rates, the hemodynamic benefits of which have not yet been shown. [1] The aim of optimizing AV delay in patients with heart failure is to increase diastolic filling and at the same time maintain biventricular pacing so as to maximize cardiac output. In patients with heart failure and LV dysfunction even a small improvement in cardiac output, as obtained by optimizing AV delay, may result in significant clinical improvement. AV optimization is routinely done using echocardiographic techniques of which Ritter's method is the most commonly used. [18] Device based algorithms like QuickOpt is also available and is currently being evaluated for its effectiveness in comparison to echocardiographic methods. [19] Optimizing AV synchrony and hence AV delay is routinely not advised in patients receiving pacemakers without heart failure. An electrocardiogram based method to determine optimal AV interval is described by Sorajja et al [20] in this issue of the journal, in which P wave duration correlates with a correction factor of 1.26 with an optimal AV interval, as determined by Ritter's method of AV optimization on echocardiography. Such simple technique can be used for effectively programming optimal AV delay routinely once validation by large trials occur, so as to achieve better hemodynamics without the need for time consuming echocardiographic techniques or till the time echocardiographic optimization is routinely planned. This study, though with its limitations of having a small cohort of elderly patients and optimization evaluated only at rest, presents an attractive alternative to echocardiography based techniques to calculate and program optimal AV delay. Based on echocardiographic parameters and natriuretic peptide levels, AV delay optimization is found to be beneficial in patients with normal LV function in short term small studies. [21-25] There exists hardly any long term study to demonstrate benefits of routine optimization of AV delay in patients having normal LV function and receiving pacemakers for heart block. Hence it would be difficult to justify echocardiography based AV optimization in all such patients. However it seems appropriate to aim to program an optimal AV delay in all patients receiving pacemakers, based on data from heart failure patients and short term studies. Can the findings of this study be extrapolated for use in AV optimization in patients treated with devices for heart failure? Larger studies in patients with and without LV dysfunction and heart failure would be required to validate the results of this pilot study for incorporating it in clinical practice to achieve better long term outcomes. We still have a long way to go before we can mimic with pacemakers the normal electrical activity of the heart. Adopt the pace of nature:  her secret is patience  - Ralph Waldo Emerson Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better  - Albert Einstein References 1. Buckingham TA, Janosik DL, Pearson AC. Pacemaker hemodynamics: clinical implications. Prog Cardiovasc Dis. 1992 ;34:347-66. 2. Israel CW, Hohnloser SH. Current status of dual-sensor pacemaker systems for correction of chronotropic incompetence. Am J Cardiol. 2000;86(9A):86K-94K. 3. Dell'Orto S, Valli P, Greco EM. Sensors for rate responsive pacing. Indian Pacing Electrophysiol J. 2004;4:137-45. 4. Chandiramani S, Cohorn LC, Chandiramani S. Heart rate changes during acute mental stress with closed loop stimulation: report on two single-blinded, pacemaker studies. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2007;30:976-84. Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 381 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” 5. Lau CP, Tai YT, Leung WH, Wong CK, Lee P, Chung FL. Rate adaptive pacing in sick sinus syndrome: effects of pacing modes and intrinsic conduction on physiological responses, arrhythmias, symptomatology and quality of life. Eur Heart J. 1994 Nov;15(11):1445-55. 6. Tops LF, Schalij MJ, Bax JJ. The effects of right ventricular apical pacing on ventricular function and dyssynchrony implications for therapy. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 Aug 25;54(9):764-76. 7. Albertsen AE, Nielsen JC. Selecting the appropriate pacing mode for patients with sick sinus syndrome: evidence from randomized clinical trials. Card Electrophysiol Rev. 2003 Dec;7(4):406-10. 8. Hesselson AB, Parsonnet V, Bernstein AD, Bonavita GJ. Deleterious effects of long-term single-chamber ventricular pacing in patients with sick sinus syndrome: the hidden benefits of dual-chamber pacing. Am Coll Cardiol. 1992 Jun;19(7):1542-9. 9. Wilkoff BL, Cook JR, Epstein AE, Greene HL, Hallstrom AP, Hsia H, Kutalek SP, Sharma A. Dual-chamber pacing or ventricular backup pacing in patients with an implantable defibrillator: the Dual Chamber and VVI Implantable Defibrillator (DAVID) Trial. JAMA. 2002 Dec 25;288(24):3115-23. 10. Wilkoff BL, Kudenchuk PJ, Buxton AE, Sharma A, Cook JR, Bhandari AK, Biehl M, Tomassoni G, Leonen A, Klevan LR, Hallstrom AP. The DAVID (Dual Chamber and VVI Implantable Defibrillator) II trial. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2009 Mar 10;53(10):872-80. 11. Sweeney MO, Prinzen FW. A new paradigm for physiologic ventricular pacing. J Am Coll Cardiol. 2006 Jan 17;47(2):282-8. 12. Siu CW, Wang M, Zhang XH, Lau CP, Tse HF. Analysis of ventricular performance as a function of pacing site and mode. Prog Cardiovasc Dis. 2008 Sep-Oct;51(2):171-82. 13. Ng AC, Allman C, Vidaic J, Tie H, Hopkins AP, Leung DY. Long-term impact of right ventricular septal versus apical pacing on left ventricular synchrony and function in patients with second- or third-degree heart block. Am J Cardiol. 2009 Apr 15;103(8):1096-101. 14. Kaye G, Stambler BS, Yee R. Search for the optimal right ventricular pacing site: design and implementation of three randomized multicenter clinical trials. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2009 Apr;32(4):426-33. 15. Tse HF, Wong KK, Siu CW, Zhang XH, Ho WY, Lau CP. Upgrading pacemaker patients with right ventricular apical pacing to right ventricular septal pacing improves left ventricular performance and functional capacity. J Cardiovasc Electrophysiol. 2009 Aug;20(8):901-5. 16. van Geldorp IE, Vernooy K, Delhaas T, Prins MH, Crijns HJ, Prinzen FW, Dijkman B. Beneficial effects of biventricular pacing in chronically right ventricular paced patients with mild cardiomyopathy. Europace. 2010 Feb;12(2):223-9. 17. Delnoy PP, Ottervanger JP, Luttikhuis HO, Elvan A, Misier AR, Beukema WP, van Hemel NM. Long-term clinical response of cardiac resynchronization after chronic right ventricular pacing. Am J Cardiol. 2009 Jul 1;104(1):116-21. 18. Barold SS, Ilercil A, Herweg B. Echocardiographic optimization of the atrioventricular and interventricular intervals during cardiac resynchronization. Europace. 2008 Nov;10 Suppl 3:iii88-95. Shomu Bohora, “AV Interval Optimization - A Step Towards Physiological Pacing 382 in Patients with Normal Left Ventricular Function” 19. Abraham WT, Gras D, Yu CM, Guzzo L, Gupta MS. Rationale and design of a randomized clinical trial to assess the safety and efficacy of frequent optimization of cardiac resynchronization therapy: the Frequent Optimization Study Using the QuickOpt Method (FREEDOM) trial. Am Heart J. 2010 Jun;159(6):944-948.e1. 20. Dan Sorajja, Mayurkumar D Bhakta, Luis RP Scott, Gregory T Altemose, Komandoor Srivathsan. Utilization of Electrocardiographic P-wave Duration for AV Interval Optimization in Dual-Chamber Pacemakers. Indian Pacing and Electrophysiology Journal; 2010; 10(9):383-392. 21. Leonelli FM, Wang K, Youssef M, Hall R, Brown D. Systolic and diastolic effects of variable atrioventricular delay in patients with complete heart block and normal ventricular function. Am J Cardiol. 1997 Aug 1;80(3):294-8. 22. Cristina Porciani M, Fantini F, Musilli N, Sabini A, Michelucci A, Colella A, Pieragnoli P, Demarchi G, Padeletti L. A perspective on atrioventricular delay optimization in patients with a dual chamber pacemaker. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 2004 Mar;27(3):333-8. 23. Styliadis IH, Gouzoumas NI, Karvounis HI, Papadopoulos CE, Efthimiadis GK, Karamouzis M, Parharidis GE, Louridas GE. Effects of variation of atrioventricular interval on left ventricular diastolic filling dynamics and atrial natriuretic peptide levels in patients with DDD pacing for complete heart block. Europace. 2005 Nov;7(6):576-83. 24. Panou FK, Kafkas NV, Michelakakis NA, Matsakas EP, Dounis GB, Kouvousis NM, Perpinia AS, Zacharoulis AA. Effect of different AV delays on left ventricular diastolic function and ANF levels in DDD paced hypertensive patients during daily activity and exercise. Pacing Clin Electrophysiol. 1999 Apr;22 (4 Pt 1):635-42. 25. Ritter P, Padeletti L, Gillio-Meina L, Gaggini G. Determination of the optimal atrioventricular delay in DDD pacing. Comparison between echo and peak endocardial acceleration measurements. Europace. 1999 Apr;1(2):126-30. 
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work_a74qr52bmza75gvnjxr7shl27y	----	- 210 - Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Ekim 2018 Volume: 11 Issue: 59 October 2018 www.sosyalarastirmalar.com Issn: 1307-9581 http://dx.doi.org/10.17719/jisr.2018.2631 LOUISA MAY ALCOTT’IN GOOD WIVES ESERİNİN TÜRKÇE İKİ ÇEVİRİSİNİN ÇEVİRİ TARİHYAZIMI BAĞLAMINDA İNCELENMESİ ANALYSIS OF TWO TURKISH TRANSLATIONS OF LOUISA MAY ALCOTT’S WORK GOOD WIVES IN THE CONTEXT OF TRANSLATION HISTORIOGRAPHY Arsun URAS YILMAZ Serpil YAVUZ ÖZKAYA** Öz Çevirmenlerin kimliği, yaşadığı ve çalıştığı toplumsal bağlam, çeviri tarihinde önemli bir yere sahiptir. Bu çalışmada çevirmenlerin yaşam öykülerinden ve çeviri kararlarından yola çıkarak çevirmen kimliklerinin ortaya çıkarılması ve çeviri tar ihine katkıda bulunulması amaçlanmıştır. Bütünce olarak Amerikalı yazar Louisa May Alcott’ın Good Wives eseri ve Türkçeye Belkıs Sami (Boyar) (1930) ve Necmettin Arıkan (1966) tarafından yapılan iki çeviri seçilmiştir. Sami’nin çevirisi eserin Türkçeye yapılmış ilk çevirisidir. Arıkan’ın çevirisi ise ikinci çeviridir. Çalışmanın kuramsal çerçevesini Anthony Pym’in çeviri tarihyazımı oluşturmaktadır. Çevirmenlerin etkili toplumsal aktörler olarak ele alındığı Pym’in modelinde yer alan “arkeoloji” alanı doğrultusunda “kim, nerede, ne zaman, hangi metin” soruları, “tarihsel eleştiri” alanı doğrultusunda bir çevirinin yarattığı etki ve “açıklama” alanı doğrultusunda, belli bir yer ve zamanda neden arkeolojik olguların oluştuğunu ve bunların değişime nasıl katkıda bulunduğu ele alınmıştır. İncelemede, Amerikan Kız Koleji’nde öğrenim görmüş Sami’nin, çevirilerinde Amerikan kültürünü yansıtan tercihler yaptığı ve özellikle dini kavramları erek kültür e aktardığı ve bir eğitimci olan Arıkan’ın ise çevirisinde yabancı sözcüklere yer vererek bunları açıkladığı görülmüştür. Çevirmenlerin, sosyal sorumluluk, misyonerlik gibi çeşitli amaçlar doğrultusunda belirli tercihler yaptığı, çevirmenler ve çeviriler üzerinde yapıl an incelemelerle ortaya koyulmaya çalışılmıştır. Sonuç olarak, çevirmenler etkili toplumsal aktörler olarak ortaya çıkmıştır. Anahtar Kelimeler: Çevirmen Kimliği, Çeviri Tarihyazımı, Çeviri Arkeolojisi, Tarihsel Eleştiri, Açıklama. Abstract The identities of the translators and the social context in which they live and work have an important place in translation history. The aim of this study is to reveal the translators’ identity by making use of their translational choices and biographical information and to contribute to translation history. The corpus of this study includes American writer Louisa May Alcott’s Good Wives and its two Turkish translations by Belkıs Sami (Boyar) (1930) and Necmettin Arıkan (1966). Sami’s translation is the first translation of the work into Turkish. Arıkan’s is the second translation. Anthony Pym’s translation historiography constitutes the theoretical framework of the study. The questions “who translated what, how, where, when, for whom and with what effect” in line with “translation archeology”, the effects of the translators in line with “historical criticism” and the reasons “why archeological artefacts occurred when and where they did” in line with “explanation” are discussed according to Pym’s model which treats translators as effective social actors. In the analysis, it has been observed that Sami, who went to American College for Girls, reflected American culture, transferred and explained the religious terms in her translation while Arıkan, as an educator, borrowed and explained foreign terms in his translation. It can be said that th e translators made some choices reflecting their aims which include social responsibility and missionary. In conclusion, the translators appeared as effective social actors. Keywords: Translator’s Identity, Translation Historiography, Translation Archaeology, Historical Criticism, Explanation. 1. Giriş Bu çalışmada çevirmenlerin yaşam öykülerinden ve çeviri kararlarından yola çıkarak çevirmen kimliklerinin ortaya çıkarılması amaçlanmıştır. Bütünce olarak Louisa May Alcott’ın Good Wives eseri ve Türkçeye Belkıs Sami (1930) ve Necmettin Arıkan (1966) tarafından yapılan iki çeviri seçilmiştir. Çalışmanın kuramsal çerçevesini Anthony Pym’in çeviri tarihyazımı oluşturmaktadır. Bu bölümde öncelikle Louisa May Alcott’ın hayatı hakkında bilgi verilecektir. 1.1. Louisa May Alcott ve Good Wives Eseri Amerikalı yazar Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888) aile hayatı ve toplumsal konularla ilgili verdiği eserlerle tanınır. Bu konuları ele almasında içinde yetiştiği çevre etkilidir. Alcott’ın babası, eğitimci ve transandantalist filozof ve aynı zamanda Ralph Waldo Emerson ve Henry David Thoreau gibi yazarların arkadaşı olan Amos Bronson Alcott, kızlarının ahlaki ve düşünsel eğitiminde etkin rol oynar. Alcott’ın annesi Abba May Alcott ise çeşitli işlerde çalışarak ailenin geçimini sağlayan kişidir. Alcott’ın ailesi ekonomik açıdan sıkıntı içinde olduğundan Alcott ve ablası, belli bir yaşa gelir gelmez annelerinin izinden giderek dikiş dikme ve mürebbiyelik gibi çeşitli işlerde çalışmaya başlar. Yaşadığı  Prof. Dr., İstanbul Üniversitesi, Fransızca Mütercim Tercümanlık Bölümü. ** Arş. Gör., Kırklareli Üniversitesi, Fen-Edebiyat Fakültesi, Mütercim Tercümanlık Bölümü. Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 211 - ekonomik sıkıntılar onun yazarlığa da erken yaşta başlamasını sağlar. İlk eserleri masal, skeç ve aile romanı türündedir. Alcott, yirmili yaşlarında çeşitli işleri sebebiyle ailesinden uzakta yaşamaya başlar ve eserlerini de yaşadığı tecrübelerinden yola çıkarak oluşturur. Amerikan İç Savaşı’nda (1861-1865) gönüllü olarak hemşirelik yaptığı sıralarda yaşadıklarından yola çıkarak yazdığı Hospital Sketches (1863) başlıklı bir eseri bulunur. Alcott, Little Women eserini tavsiye üzerine yazar. Roberts Brothers Yayınevi, 1867’de erkek çocuklar için yazdığı hikayelerle büyük satış rakamlarına ulaşan yazarlara (Horatio Alger, Oliver Optic, vb.) bir karşılık olarak, Alcott’ın kızlar için ve kızlar hakkında bir kitap yazmasını tavsiye eder (Eiselein & Philips 2001, 178). Bir ablası (Anna Alcott Pratt) ve iki de küçük kızkardeşi (Elizabeth Sewall Alcott ve Abigail May Alcott Nieriker) olan Alcott yazdığı hikayede kendi ailesini model alır.1868’de yayımlanan Little Women büyük bir başarıya ulaşır. Bu eserin başarıya ulaşmasını sağlayan özelliklerden biri belirli toplumsal cinsiyet rolleri salık veren 19. ve 20. yüzyılda kızlar hakkında yazılan kitaplardan farklı olarak, bu eserde ele alınan karakterlerin hepsi birbirinden farklı isteklere, değerlere, zayıf yönlere ve özelliklere sahip olmasıdır. Bu yönüyle bu roman, o döneme kadar hakim olan didaktik, ahlakçı ve baskıcı çocuk edebiyatı eserlerinden ayrılır. Çünkü bu eser çocukları ve özellikle kız çocuklarını hayalpereset ve kusurları olan çocuklar olarak ele alır. Bu sebeple Little Women eserinin çocuk edebiyatında bir devrim gerçekleştirdiği iddia edilir (Eiselein & Philips, 2001, 181). Bu kitabın yayımlanması Alcott’ın, Amerika’daki en popüler ve en başarılı kadın yazar olmasını sağlar. Bu kitabın ulaştığı başarı ve okurların ilgisinden sonra Alcott, kitabın ikinci kısmını yazmaya başlar. Serinin ikinci kitabı İyi Zevceler de (İyi Hanımlar) [Good Wives] (ya da Little Women Wedded olarak da bilinir), altı ay sonra, 1869’da yayımlanır ve binlerce kopya satar. Bu iki kitap İngilizcede çoğu zaman tek cilt olarak birlikte yayımlanır. Amerika’daki İç Savaş döneminin tarihsel arka plan olarak geçtiği Little Women eserinde Jo, Meg, Beth ve Amy isimli dört kız kardeşin çocukluktan gençliğe geçişleri anlatılırken, Good Wives eserinde dört kız kardeşin yetişkinliğe geçişi ele alınır. Eser, Meg ve John’un düğünleriyle başlar. Meg, bir eş olarak yeni hayatına alışmaya çalışırken Amy, resim eğitimi almak için Carrol Teyze ile yurtdışına gider. Jo, yazmaya olan tutkusunu geliştirir ve çeşitli dergilere gönderdiği hikayelerle para kazanır ve ailesine destek olur. Annesi ve sağlık sorunları yaşayan kardeşi Beth’i deniz kenarına gönderir. Daha sonra Jo, March Teyze’nin arkadaşı Mrs. Kirke’nin çocuklarına mürebbiyelik yapmak için New York’a gider. Burada Friedrich Bhaer ile tanışır. Bhaer ona Almanca öğretir, yazdıklarını eleştirip kendisini geliştirmesini sağlar ve bir gazetede hikayelerinin yayımlanması için yardımcı olur. Jo, New York’tan döndüğünde sağlığı gittikçe kötüleşen Beth ile zaman geçirir. Kısa bir süre sonra Beth ölür. Kitabın sonunda üç kızkardeşin hepsi evlenirler ve mutlu bir yaşam sürerler. Bu seri Little Men (1871) ve Jo’s Boys (1886) eserlerinin yayımlanmasıyla devam eder. Alcott’ın birçok eserinde ele aldığı konularla feminist tartışmalara katkıda bulunduğu söylenebilir. Little Women eserinin yayımlandığı 1868’den öldüğü yıl olan 1888’e kadar yazdığı çok sayıda roman ve kısa hikayede 19. yüzyılda yaşayan kadınların hayatının bir kronolojisini sunar. Little Women üçlemesinin yanı sıra yazdığı Moods (1865), Work: A Story of Experience (1872), A Modern Mephistopheles ve A Whisper in the Dark (1888) başlıklı üç yetişkin romanının konusunu genellikle 19. yüzyılda kadınların yaşadığı aile hayatı ve bireysellik ikilemi oluşturur. Bu açıdan bakıldığında Alcott’ın bütün romanlarında ele alınan hem aile hayatı ve hem de bireysellik hakkı konusundaki ısrarıyla feminist tartışmalara katkıda bulunduğu söylenebilir. Little Women eserinin çok popüler olması onun farklı sanat alanlarında da ele alınmasını sağlar. Eser birçok kez sahneye, müzikale, opera, anime, bale ve sessiz filme uyarlanır. 2018 yılı kitabın yayımlanışının 150. yılı olduğu için bu sene yayımlanması planlanan bir film daha vardır. (bkz. http://www.willowandthatch.com/little-women-literary-film-adaptations/). Little Women akademik olarak da sıkça üzerinde çalışılan bir eserdir. 1940’lardan itibaren ve özellikle 1970’lerin ortasında akademik açıdan ele alınmaya başlayan eser (Eiselein & Philips, 2001, 180) uzun bir süredir çocuk edebiyatı derslerinin temel konularından birini oluşturur. Ayrıca, son zamanlarda Amerika çalışmaları ve kadın çalışmaları dersleri kapsamında da ele alınmaktadır (Eiselein & Philips, 2001, ix). Good Wives eseri Türkçeye ilk kez 1930’da “İyi Zevceler” başlığıyla Belkıs Sami tarafından çevrilir ve Muhit Neşriyat Şirketi tarafından yayımlanır. Eser, 1966’da Necmettin Arıkan tarafından yeniden çevrilir ve Rafet Zaimler Yayınevi’nce yayımlanır. Daha sonra “İyi Eşler” başlığıyla Mustafa Delioğlu tarafından çevrilmiş ve Yuva Yayınları’nca yayımlanmıştır. Eser 2007’de “İyi Eşler” başlığıyla Türkan Çolak tarafından çevrilmiş ve Artemis Yayınları tarafından yayımlanmıştır. 2009’da “İyi Eşler” başlığıyla Nilgün Erzik tarafından çevrilmiş ve Epsilon Yayınları tarafından yayımlanmıştır. Cevdet Serbest tarafından 2012’de “İyi Hanımlar” başlığıyla çevrilmiş ve Türkiye İş Bankası tarafından yayımlanmıştır. Bu çalışma kapsamında Good Wives eserinin 1930 ve 1966 yıllarında yapılan çevirileri ele alınacaktır. Cumhuriyet’in ilk yıllarında, 1930’da Belkıs Sami tarafından yapılan çeviri, Amerikan Edebiyatı’ndan Türkçeye yapılan ilk çeviriler arasında olması sebebiyle önemli görülmüştür. O tarihlerde bu eserin, Amerikan Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 212 - misyonerlik faaliyetleri doğrultusunda ve Amerikan tarzı yaşam biçiminin Türkiye’de yerleştirilmesi amacıyla çevrildiği düşünülebilir. Bu çalışmada ele alınacak, Good Wives eserinin çevirmenlerinden biri olan Belkıs Sami (Boyar) edebiyat tarihimizin önemli siması Halide Edip’in kız kardeşidir. Belkıs Sami 1894’te doğar ve Halide Edip gibi Amerikan Koleji’nde öğrenim görür. Burada aldığı Amerikan tarzı eğitimin hem çevirdiği eserlerin seçiminde hem de çeviri kararlarında etkili olduğu söylenebilir. Amerikan Kız Koleji, Osmanlı’da yaşayan Müslümanları Protestanlığa döndürme amacı taşıyan Amerikan Misyoner Heyeti’nin bu konuda başarısız olunca Amerikan tarzı eğitim vermek üzere açtığı okullardan biridir. Sami’nin Türkçeye çevirdiği birçok eser arasından ilki Müslüman - Hristiyan ilişkilerinde önemli bir figür olan ve 1899-1928 yılları arasında Mısır’da misyoner olarak hizmet eden William Henry Temple Gairdner’ın “İlk Fasih Bayramı Gecesi” başlıklı eseridir. Bu eser Türkçede 1923’te Amerikan Misyoner Heyeti tarafından yayımlanmıştır. Amerikan Koleji’nde eğitim görmüş olan Sami’nin bu eseri çevirmesi, Hristiyanlığı yayma amacı taşıyan Amerikan Heyeti’nin misyonerlik faaliyetlerine uygun düştüğü söylenebilir. Sami, Alcott’ın üçlemesinin ilk ikisini, yani Little Women ve Good Wives eserlerini çevirir. Little Women, Sami tarafından 1925’te çevrilmiş ve bir Ermeni matbaası olan Samoil Harutyonyan Matbaası tarafından yayımlanmıştır. Bu eserlerin seçimi de, Osmanlı topraklarında yaşayan Türk kadınlarının genç kızlık dönemi olmadığını düşünen Amerikan misyonerlerinin bu görüşlerini yansıttığı söylenebilir. Amerikan Kız Koleji’nde 1900 - 1909 yılları arasında İngilizce ve Latince öğretmenliği yapan Hester Donaldson Jenkins, Osmanlı topraklarında yaşayan Türk kadınlarıyla ilgili yazdığı kitabında, kız çocuklarının yeterince eğitim almadan doğrudan genç eşlere dönüştüğünü iddia eder (Kahlenberg, 2016, 155). Alcott’ın kitaplarında yer alan dört kız kardeşin hayatları, Amerika dışındaki okurlar için alternatif yaşam tarzları sunması özelliğiyle dikkat çekicidir. Sami’nin çevirdiği bir diğer gençlik eseri de İskoç yazar Robert Michael Ballantyne’ın The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean başlıklı eseridir. Sami, bu eseri, Türkçeye “Mercan Adası: Cenubi Bahr-i Muhiti Kebir’de Sergüzeşt” başlığıyla aktarmıştır. Sami’nin çevirileri dışında bir de telif eseri bulur. 1926’da kaleme aldığı “Aşkımı Öldürdüm” eseri o dönem “Son Saat” gazetesinde tefrika olarak yayımlanmıştır. Bu eser 2017’de Koç Üniversitesi Yayınları tarafından kitap olarak yayımlanır. Belkıs Sami’nin kendi yaşamından izler barındıran eser döneminin popüler edebiyat yapıtları arasında yer alır. Toplumun üst sınıfına temas eden bu aşk romanı, yazarının ve ana karakterinin kadın olması ve anlatının kadın merkezli olması itibariyle de ayrı bir önem taşır. Son olarak Sami, William Shakespeare’in VIII. Henry: the Famous History of the Life of King Henry VIII başlıklı eserini çevirmiştir (bu çeviride Belkıs Boyar olarak geçer). Eser, Milli Eğitim Basımevi tarafından “dünya edebiyatından tercümeler” serisi kapsamında 1947’de yayımlanmıştır. Bu çeviri, 19 Mart 1947 tarihinde yayımlanan 41 - 42 sayılı Tercüme dergisinde, Tercüme Bürosu’nun hazırladığı klasikler listesinde Tercüme Bürosu tarafından Türkçeye çevrilen 303 İngiliz klasik eserinden biri olarak geçer. Bu kitabın girişinde dönemin cumhurbaşkanı İsmet İnönü’nün yazdığı ve tercüme külliyatının kültürümüzdeki önemini vurguladığı yazısı, o dönemde çeviriye verilen önemi gösterir. Louisa May Alcott’ın Good Wives eserinin bir başka çevirmeni Necmettin Arıkan Türk çeviri edebiyatı dizgesine büyük katkılarda bulunmuş bir çevirmendir. Robinson Kruzoe’dan Pinokyo’ya birçok çocuk edebiyatı eserini Türkçeye kazandırmıştır. Ayrıca Arıkan, “yabancı dil derslerinde güçlük çeken öğrencilere yardımı dokunacak, onların rastlayacağı güçlükleri gerekli açıklamalar ve örneklerle ortadan kaldıracak ve bu suretle sayın öğretmenlerin de daha memnun edici bir randıman almalarında rolü olacak bir kitap serisi” hazırlamış bir öğretmendir (Arıkan, 1975, 3). Bunların yanı sıra çocuk edebiyatı alanında telif eserleri de bulunan Arıkan, Louisa May Alcott’ın Good Wives eserini 1966’da çevirmiştir. Bu çalışmada, bu çevirilerin belirli bir zaman ve mekânda neden üretildiğinin, çeviri tarihyazımı kapsamında araştırılması amaçlanmaktadır. Bunların çevirmenlere odaklanılarak anlaşılabileceğini düşünen Anthony Pym çeviri tarihinde dört temel ilke önerir (Pym, 1998, ix). Birinci ilke, çeviri tarihinin belli bir zaman ve mekânda neden çeviri üretildiğini açıklaması gereğidir. Başka bir deyişle çeviri tarihi, toplumsal nedenselliğe işaret etmelidir. İkinci ilke, tarihsel bilginin merkezdeki nesnesinin çevirmen olması gerektiğini görmektir. Çevirilerin neden ortaya çıktığını anlamak için sürece dâhil olan kişilere bakılmalıdır. Üçüncü ilke, çeviri tarihinin çevirmenlere, onların yaşadıkları yerlere ve toplumsal bağlamlara eğilmesi gereğidir. Dördüncü ilke ise neden çeviri tarihi çalışıldığının açıklanmasıdır. Bu ilkeler doğrultusunda Pym, çeviri tarihyazımını “çeviri arkeolojisi” [translation archaelogy], “tarihsel eleştiri” [historical criticism] ve “açıklama” [explanation] olmak üzere üç aşamaya ayırır. Bu modelde “arkeoloji” alanı “kim, nerede, ne zaman, hangi metin” sorularını araştırır ve varsayımları savunmak için veri sağlar. “Tarihsel eleştiri” alanı bir çevirinin yarattığı etkiyi belirler. “Açıklama” alanı, belli bir yer ve zamanda neden Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 213 - arkeolojik olguların oluştuğunu ve bunların değişime nasıl katkıda bulunduğunu açıklamaya çalışır. Burada çevirmenler etkili toplumsal aktörler olarak ortaya çıkar (Pym, 1998, 5-6). Çeviriler ve çevirmenler tarihsel bağlama ne kadar iyi yerleştirilse yerleştirilsin, çevirilerin nasıl yapıldığı ve alımlandığı bilinmeden tarihsel bilgi yarım kalır. Çevirilerin nasıl yapıldığını görmek çevirilerin okunması ve çözümlenmesini gerektirir. Pym “aktif” ve “pasif” yeniden çeviriler arasında yapılacak karşılaştırmalardan bahseder ve aktif yeniden çeviriler arasında karşılaştırma yapmayı tavsiye eder (Pym, 1998, 106-107). Pym, aktif ve pasif çevirileri şöyle açıklar: Erek kültürde meydana gelen dilsel ve kültürel değişimlerin sonucu periyodik olarak yeniden çeviriler yapılır. Bunun gibi, aralarında çok az çekişme olan ve içindeki bilgilerin birbiriyle çelişmediği çeviriler “pasif yeniden çeviriler” olarak adlandırılır. Pym’e göre, pasif yeniden çeviriler arasında yapılan incelemeler, erek kültürdeki tarihsel değişimler hakkında veri sağlama eğilimindedir (Pym, 1998, 82). Aralarında farklılıklar bulunan, farklı okurlara hitap eden ve farklı işlevler gören çeviriler de “aktif yeniden çeviri” olarak adlandırılır. Aktif yeniden çevirilerin karşılaştırmalı çözümlemesi, patron, yayımcı, okur ve kültürlerarası politikalarla çevrili çevirmenle ilgili gerekçeler tespit etme eğilimindedir. Pym’e göre aktif yeniden çeviriler üzerinde yapılacak çalışmalar, çevirinin doğasıyla ilgili daha iyi fikir verebilir (Pym, 1998, 82- 83). Bu çalışmanın bütüncesini oluşturan Belkıs Sami ve Necmettin Arıkan’ın yaptığı çeviriler arasında tarihsel farklılık bulunmakla birlikte bu iki çevirinin farklı işlevler gördüğü düşünülebilir. Bu çeviriler arasında yapılacak karşılaştırmanın aktif yeniden çeviriler arasında gerçekleştiği söylenebilir. Bu çalışmada ele alınan iki çeviride, erek kültürde meydana gelen tarihsel değişimlerin bir sonucu olarak değerlendirilebilecek farklılıkların yanı sıra çevirmenlerin farklı amaçlarından kaynaklanan farklılıklar bulunduğu söylenebilir. Aktif yeniden çeviriler olarak ele alınan bu iki çeviride yer alan örnekleri “Amerikan Kültürüyle İlgili Söylem Örnekleri” ve “Tarihsel Değişimle İlgili Söylem Örnekleri” olarak ikiye ayırmak mümkündür. Ele alınan her örnek, çeviri tarihyazımını oluşturan çeviri arkeolojisi, tarihsel eleştiri ve açıklama aşamaları göz önünde bulundurularak açıklanmıştır. 2. Amerikan Kültürüyle İlgili Söylem Örnekleri 2.1. Örnek/Bağlam (1) L.M.A: John Brooke did his duty manfully for a year, got wounded, was sent home, and not allowed to return (s. 2). B.S.: Con Bruk bir sene kadar mert bir vatandaş gibi vazifesini yaptı, yaralandı evine gönderildi, tekrar cebheye avdetine müsaade edilmedi (s. 7). N.A.: John Brooke bir yıl vazifesini erkekçe yaptı, yaralandı; kendisini evine gönderip tekrar dönmesine müsaade etmediler (s. 4). Kitabın giriş bölümünden alınan bu örnekte daha sonra Meg’le evlenen John Brooke karakterinden bahsedilmektedir. B.S. karakterlerin isimlerini Türkçe okunuşlarıyla N.A. ise orijinalinde yer aldığı şekliyle yazmıştır. B.S.’nin bu tercihiyle, okurlar tarafından kolayca kabul edilen bir eser ortaya koymayı amaçladığı söylenebilir. Pym’in çeviri tarihyazımı modelinde çevirinin yarattığı etkiyi ele alan tarihsel eleştiriye göre, B.S.’nin yabancı kültürü okurlara tanıdık kıldığı iddia edilebilir. 2.2. Örnek/Bağlam (2) L.M.A.: When she came down, looking like a pretty Quakeress in her dove-colored suit and straw bonnet tied with white, they all gathered about her to say “good-by”, as tenderly as if she had been going to make the grand tour (s. 22). B.S.: Küçük bir Kuveyker (*) gibi kurşunî esvabı beyaz kurdela ile bağlı hasır şapkasiyle aşağı indiği zaman herkes veda için etrafına toplandı (s. 38). (*) “Kuveyker”lik bir mezheptir ki mensupları çok sade, bilhassa kurşunî elbise giyerler. N.A.: Meg pembeye çalan kurşunî renkli elbisesi içinde ve beyaz kurdelâyla bağlanmış hasır şapkasiyle güzel bir rahibeyi andıraraktan, aşağı indiği zaman, bütün ev halkı sanki uzun bir yolculuğa çıkıyormuş gibi ona şefkatla: “Güle güle!” demek için etrafını aldı (s. 23). Meg karakterinin düğünden sonra evden ayrılışıyla ilgili bölümden alınan bu örnekte B.S., kaynak metindeki Quakeress sözcüğünü “Kuveyker” şeklinde çevirmiş ve bunu açıklamak için dipnot vermiştir. Burada Sami’nin Hristiyanlığa ait bir kavramı tanıttığı görülürken N.A.’nın okurlara tanıdık bir sözcük tercih ederek, bu kavramı nötrleştirdiği söylenebilir. Çevirinin yarattığı etki düşünülecek olursa, Sami’nin, Hristiyanlığa ait bir kavramı ön plana çıkararak okurlarda yabancı kültürün etkisini hissettirdiği söylenebilir. Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 214 - 1930’lu yıllarda Türkiye’de yapılan bu çevirinin değişime olan katkısı, okurların Hristiyan kültürüne yakın olmalarını sağlamak şeklinde ifade edilebilir. Sami etkili toplumsal bir aktör olarak ortaya çıkmıştır. 2.3. Örnek/Bağlam (3) L.M.A.: […] and Laurie’s birthday gift to Amy was a tiny coral lobster in the shape of a charm for her watch- guard (s. 34). B.S.: Lorinin Eymiye isim günü hediyesi olarak verdiği ne idi biliyor musunuz? Saat kordonuna takılmak üzre tılısım şeklinde küçük kırmızı bir istakoz! (s. 57) N.A.: Laurie de doğum gününde, saatine takması için Amy’ye süs olarak yapılmış mercandan mini mini bir istakoz hediye etti… (s. 35). Laurie’nin Amy’ye verdiği doğumgünü hediyesinden bahsedilen bu örnekte B.S., kaynak metinde geçen birthday sözcüğünü Hristiyanlığa ait bir gelenek olan “isim günü” şeklinde karşılamıştır. Tarihsel eleştiri doğrultusunda, Sami’nin, kaynak kültürdeki bu dini geleneği tanıtmak amacıyla erek kültürde yabancı kültürün etkisini hissettirdiği söylenebilir. Bu çevirinin yapıldığı dönemde, okurların Hristiyan kültürüne yakın olmalarını sağladığı iddia edilebilir. Bunun yanı sıra “isim günü” eski Türk geleneklerinde olan ve Dede Korkut Hikayeleri’nde geçen “ad günü”nü akla getirdiğinden farklı yorumlar da yapılabilir. 2.4. Örnek/Bağlam (4) L.M.A: “This will be a regularly merry Christmas to me, with presents in the morning, you and letters in the afternoon, and a party at night, said Amy […] (s. 176). B.S.: O vakit Eymi: “Bu benim için tam bir Krismıs olacak,” dedi. Öğleden evel hediyeler, öğleden sonra sen, mektuplar (s. 266). N.A.: […] Amy: -Benim için dört başı mamur bir yılbaşı bu: Sabahleyin hediyeler, öğleden sonra sen, mektuplar.. (s. 173). Amy ve Laurie’nin Nice’te karşılaşıp birlikte Noel kutlamasına katılmalarının konu edildiği bölümden alınan bu örnekte B.S., kaynak metinde geçen Christmas sözcüğünü “Krismıs”, N.A. ise “yılbaşı” olarak çevirmiştir. Hristiyanların kutladığı dini bir gün olan Christmas, Sami tarafından erek metinde korunmakla birlikte okunduğu gibi yazılmıştır. Çevirinin yarattığı etki söz konusu olduğunda bu örnekte, Sami’nin yabancı kültüre ait bir geleneği erek okurlara aktardığı söylenebilir. Bu çevirinin, okurların Hristiyan kültürüne yakın olmalarını sağladığı iddia edilebilir. 2.5. Örnek/Bağlam (5) L.M.A.: […] having located it in Lisbon, she wound up with an earthquake, as a striking and appropriate dénouement (s. 38). B.S.: Mevzuuna sahne olarak Lizbon şehrini intihap ettiği için canlı ve minasip bir netice olarak da zelzele koymağı düşündü (s. 62-63). N.A.: […] hâdiseleri Lizbon’da geçiriyormuş gibi gösterdikten sonra, göze çarpan ve yerinde bir dénouement olarak ta hikâyeyi bir yer sarsıntısıyla sona erdirmişti (s. 38). Jo’nun yazdığı bir hikayeden bahsedilen bu bölümde kaynak metinde geçen Fransızca dénouement sözcüğünü B.S. “netice” sözcüğü ile karşılamış ve N.A. ise dénouement sözcüğünü kullanmıştır. Önceki örneklerde yabancı kavramlara çevirisinde yer verme eğilimi olduğu görülen B.S.’nin özellikle dini kavramlar söz konusu olduğunda misyonerlik düşünceleri doğrultusunda bu yöntemi tercih ettiği, N.A.’nın ise yabancı bir kavramı tanıtma düşüncesiyle ödünçleme yaptığı iddia edilebilir. Çevirinin etkisi düşünüldüğünde N.A.’nın yabancı kültürün etkisini erek okura hissettirdiği söylenebilir. Ayrıca eğitimci kişiliğinin de etkisiyle okurlara yeni kavramlar öğretme çabasının olduğu da iddia edilebilir. 2.6. Örnek/Bağlam (6) L.M.A: The Palais Royale is a heavenly place,-so full of bijouterie and lovely things that I’m nearly distracted because I can’t buy them (s. 97). B.S.: Pale Royal cennet gibi bir yer. O kadar güzel şeyler, o kadar elmasvari, onları alamamak yesiyle çıldırıyorum (s. 150). N.A.: Palais Royal sanki cennetten bir köşe: o kadar bijouterie (*) ve güzel şeylerle dolu ki, onlardan alamıyorum diye nerdeyse aklımı oynatacağım (s. 97). (*) Mücevherat Amy’nin Paris’te bulunduğu sırada yazdığı bir mektuptan alınan bu örnekte kaynak metinde geçen bijouterie sözcüğü B.S. tarafından “elmasvari”, N.A. tarafından “bijouterie” olarak çevrilmiştir. Ayrıca N.A. bir dipnot ekleyerek bu sözcüğü “mücevherat” olarak açıklamıştır. Bu örnekte de N.A.’nın yabancı bir kavramı Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 215 - tanıtma düşüncesiyle ödünçleme yaptığı iddia edilebilir. Çevirinin yarattığı etkiyi ele alan tarihsel eleştiri bağlamında N.A.’nın kaynak metnin yabancılığını okura hissettirdiği söylenebilir. Ayrıca Arıkan’ın eğitimci kişiliği okurlara yeni kavramlar öğretme çabasında etkili olmuştur. 2.7. Örnek/Bağlam (7) L.M.A.: “’Yes; and she’s jolly and we like her lots,’ added Kitty, who is an enfant terrible (s. 124). B.S.: Yaramaz Keti ilâve etti: “Çok şen, biz onu çok seviyoruz.” (s. 190). N.A.: Bir enfant terrible olan Kitty hemen ilave etti (*) -Evet.. O kadar şen ki, hepimiz onu pek çok seviyoruz.. (s. 122) (*) Sözleriyle, hareketleriyle anasını babasını müşkül vaziyette bırakan yaramaz, geveze çocuk. Jo’nun New York’ta mürebbiyelik yaptığı iki kızdan biri olan Kitty’nin onu Mr. Bhaer ile tanıştırdığı bölümden alınan bu örnekte kaynak metinde geçen enfant terrible sözcük öbeği B.S. tarafından “yaramaz”, N.A. tarafından “enfant terrible” olarak aktarılmıştır. Ayrıca N.A. bir dipnot ekleyerek bir açıklama yapmıştır. Bu örnekte de N.A.’nın yabancı bir kavramı tanıtma düşüncesiyle ödünçleme yaptığı iddia edilebilir. Tarihsel eleştiri bağlamında N.A.’nın yabancı kültürün etkisini vurguladığı görülmektedir. Ayrıca bir eğitimci olarak okurlara yeni kavramlar öğretmeyi amaçlamış olduğu söylenebilir. 3. Tarihsel Değişimle İlgili Söylem Örnekleri 3.1. Örnek/Bağlam (1) L.M.A.: “I don’t want a fashionable wedding, but only those about me whom I love, and to them I wish to look and be my familiar self.” (s. 15). B.S.: “Bugün hazırlanmış bir yabancı olmak istemiyorum, diyordu, alamot bir düğün istemiyorum. Etrafımda yalnız sevdiklerimi ve onların arasında da asıl kendimi görmek isterim” (s. 28). N.A.: “Bugün acayip görünüp herkesin gözünü üzerime dikmesini istemiyorum,” diyordu; “ben modaya uygun bir düğün değil, fakat yalnız sevdiklerimi etrafımda görmek istiyor, ve onlara her zamanki halimle görünmeyi arzu ediyorum.” (s. 17). “İpek, dantel ve portakal çiçeği gibi şeylere rağbet etmeyen” ve sade bir düğün isteyen Meg’e ait bu cümlede geçen fashionable sözcüğünü B.S. Türkçeye Fransızcadan geçen “alamot” sözcüğü ile karşılamıştır. Bu sözcük bazı Türkçe kaynaklarda “alamod” olarak yer alır. N.A. bu sözcüğü “modaya uygun” şeklinde karşılamıştır. Çevirinin yarattığı etki düşünülecek olursa, Sami’nin sözcük seçiminin onun elitist bir yaklaşım benimsediğini ve okur kitlesi olarak Fransızca bilen üst sınıfları hedef aldığını gösterir. 1930’larda İngilizceden Türkçeye yapılan bu çeviride Fransızca sözcüklerin olması, o dönemde Fransız kültürünün Türkçe üzerindeki etkisiyle açıklanabilir. 3.2. Örnek/Bağlam (2) L.M.A.: But overstrained eyes soon caused pen and ink to be laid aside for a bold attempt at poker-sketching (s. 23). B.S.: Bu sefer daha cür’etkâr teşebbüsle pirogravör, yani kızgın demirle tahta üzerine resim yapmağa başladı (s. 39). N.A.: … büyük bir cesaretle Poker-Sketcing işlerine kalkıştı;… (s. 23). Amy’nin sanat teşebbüslerinin konu edildiği bir bölümden alınan bu örnekte B.S. kaynak metinde geçen poker-sketching [ahşap yakma sanatı] sözcüğünü Fransızca “pirogravür” sözcüğü ile karşılamıştır ve bu kavramın ne olduğunu açıklamıştır. N.A. ise sözcüğü kaynak metindeki gibi bırakarak “Poker-Sketcing” şeklinde karşılamıştır. Tarihsel eleştiriye göre, Sami’nin sözcük seçimi onun belli bir kesimi hedeflediğini ve yabancı bir kavramı tanıtmayı amaçladığını gösterir. Bu sözcüğün Türkçeye Fransızcadan geçmesi, Fransız kültürünün o dönemdeki etkisini gösterir. 3.3. Örnek/Bağlam (3) L.M.A.: Just now it’s the fashion to be hideous,-to make your head look like a scrubbing-brush, wear a strait- jacket, orange gloves, and clumping, square-toed boots. If it was cheap ugliness, I’d say nothing; but it costs as much as the other, and I don’t get any satisfaction out of it (s. 12). B.S.: Şimdiki moda kendini korkunç yapmak mıdır? Başınızı tahta fırçasına benzetirsiniz, düz bir jaket, turuncu eldiven, dört köşe burunlu koça botinler, bari ucuz çirkinlik olsa bir şey demiyeceğim (s. 24). N.A.: Şimdi de moda galiba çirkin olmak – Başın tahta fırçası gibi kel kel, arkanda bir deli gömleği, elinde turuncu eldivenler, ayağında tak-tak öten dört köşe uçlu kunduralar. Bu çirkin şeyler ucuz olsa bari, canım yanmaz; ama paradan yana ötekilerden hiç aşağı kalır yerleri yok.. (s. 14). Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi Cilt: 11 Sayı: 59 Yıl: 2018 The Journal of International Social Research Volume: 11 Issue: 59 Year: 2018 - 216 - Jo ve Teddy arasında geçen bir konuşmada Jo’ya ait bu cümlede geçen boot sözcüğü B.S. tarafından “botin”, N.A. tarafından “kundura” sözcükleriyle karşılanmıştır. Sami’nin tercih ettiği “botin” sözcüğü, Türkçeye Fransızcadan geçen birçok giyim teriminden biridir. Çevirinin etkisi düşünülecek olursa, Sami’nin sözcük seçimi, onun okur olarak Fransızcaya hâkim olan üst sınıfları hedeflediğini gösterir. Ayrıca Fransız kültürünün etkisi özellikle giyimle ilgili sözcüklerde dikkat çekicidir. 3.4. Örnek/Bağlam (4) L.M.A.: Her “scribbling suit” consisted of a black woollen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action (s. 35). B.S.: İş esvabı, istediği zaman serbestçe kalemini silebileceği siyah bir göğüslük ve neş’eli kırmızı fiyongosuyla ayni kumaştan siyah bir başlıktı (s. 58). N.A.: Jo’nun “yazı takımı” istediği vakit mürekkepli kalemini silebildiği siyah yün bir önlükle, yazı yazmaya başlıyacağı zaman, içine saçlarını soktuğu, kırmızı bir şeritle süslü, aynı maddeden yapılmış bir başlıktan ibaretti (s. 35). Jo’nun romanını yazmasıyla ilgili bölümden alınan bu örnekte kaynak metinde geçen bow sözcüğü B.S. tarafından “fiyongo”, N.A. tarafından “şerit” olarak çevrilmiştir. “Fiyango” İtalyancadan geçmiş bir sözcüktür. Çeviri tarihyazımı modelindeki tarihsel eleştiri bağlamında, Sami’nin sözcük seçimiyle Fransızcaya aşina olan elit çevrelere hitap ettiği görülür. 1930’larda İngilizceden yapılan bu çeviride İtalyanca ve Fransızca sözcüklerin olması, özellikle giyim terimleri konusunda bu kültürlerin Türkçe üzerindeki etkisiyle açıklanabilir. 4. Sonuç Bu çalışmada çevirmenlerin yaşam öykülerinden ve çeviri kararlarından yola çıkarak çevirmen kimlikleri ortaya çıkarılmaya çalışılmıştır. Bütünce olarak Louisa May Alcott’ın Good Wives eseri ve Türkçeye Belkıs Sami ve Necmettin Arıkan tarafından yapılmış çeviriler ele alınmıştır. Pym’in deyişiyle aktif yeniden çeviriler olarak ele alınan iki çevirinin çözümlenmesi sırasında çevirmenlere odaklanılarak, çevirilerin belirli bir zaman ve mekânda neden üretildiğinin anlaşılması amaçlanmıştır. Bu doğrultuda, Pym’in çeviri tarihyazımı modelini oluşturan çeviri arkeolojisi, tarihsel eleştiri ve açıklama başlıkları altında, çevirmenlerin kararları ele alınmıştır. Pym’in modelinde yer alan tarihsel eleştiri kapsamında düşünüldüğünde, Amerikan Kız Koleji’nde öğrenim görmüş Sami’nin, çevirilerinde Amerikan kültürünü yansıtan tercihler yaptığı ve özellikle dini kavramları erek kültüre aktardığı iddia edilmiştir. Bu iddia örneklerle desteklenmeye çalışılmıştır. Tarihsel değişimle ilgili örneklerde Sami’nin, okur kitlesi olarak Fransızca bilen üst sınıfları hedef aldığını gösteren sözcük seçimleri ele alınmıştır. Arıkan’ın ise çevirisinde yabancı sözcüklere yer vererek bunları açıklaması onun eğitimci kişiliğiyle açıklanmıştır. Sami ve Arıkan’ın yaşam öyküsü ve çeviri kararları ile çevirmen kişiliği arasındaki ilişki ortaya koyulmaya çalışılmıştır. Bir insan olarak çevirmenin, çeviri tarihinde merkezi bir role sahip olduğu söylenebilir. Bu doğrultuda Pym, bir çevirinin belli bir zaman ve mekânda neden yapıldığını anlamak için çevirmenlere odaklanılması gerektiğini söyler ve çeviri tarihinde çevirmenlere özel bir önem atfeder. Çünkü ona göre sadece insanlar, sosyal nedenselliğe uygun sorumluluğa sahiptir. Pym’in de belirttiği gibi çevirmenlerin yaşadıkları ve çalıştıkları toplumsal bağlamlar incelenerek çevirmenlerin çeviri tarihindeki izlerine ulaşılabilir. Bu çalışmada çevirmenlerin, sosyal sorumluluk, misyonerlik gibi çeşitli amaçlar doğrultusunda belirli tercihler yaptığı, çevirmenler ve çeviriler üzerinde yapılan incelemelerle ortaya koyulmaya çalışılmıştır. Sonuç olarak, yapılan incelemede de çevirmenlerin toplumsal ve kültürel konumu ve kimliğinin çevirilere yansıdığı görülmüştür. KAYNAKÇA Alcott, Louisa May (2016). Good Wives. London: Collins Classics. Alcott, Louisa May (1930). İyi Zevceler. İstanbul: Muhit Neşriyat Şirketi. Alcott, Louisa May (1966). İyi Zevceler. İstanbul: Rafet Zaimler Yayınevi. Arıkan, Necmettin (1975). Türkçe Karşılıklarıyla Herkes İçin Yardımcı İngilizce Dersleri Orta: 2. İstanbul: Rafet Zaimler Yayınevi. Eiselein, Gregory & Philips, Anne K. (2001). The Louisa May Alcott Encyclopedia. Connecticut: Greenwood Press. Elbert, Sarah (1984). A Hunger for Home: Louisa May Alcott and Little Women. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Kahlenberg, Caroline (2016). ‘The Gospel of Health’: American Missionaries and the Transformation of Ottoman/Turkish Women’s Bodies, 1890-1932. Gender & History, S. 1, Cilt. 28, s. 150-176. Pym, Anthony (1998). Method in Translation History. Manchester: St. Jerome. Yararlanılan İnternet Erişim Adresi http://www.willowandthatch.com/little-women-literary-film-adaptations 
work_ac4qt7yqvbeebn44uno22rg4iq	----	Science Magazine 2 0 3 JANUARY 2020 • VOL 367 ISSUE 6473 sciencemag.org S C I E N C E P H O T O : C O U R T E S Y O F T H E R A L P H M C Q U A R R IE A R C H IV E S G ertrude Blugerman once asked of her husband, Isaac Asimov, “What will you say at the end of your life if you have written one hundred books but have missed living?” “Only one hundred?” he replied. Asimov wrote of this incident in Opus 100, his hundredth book, published in 1969. He would write or edit more than 500 books in his lifetime. Asimov was brought to the United States at the age of 3 from Petrovichi, a small town in the still relatively new Soviet Union. His birthday—2 January 1920—was one settled on by his parents. (Records in Petrovichi were unreliable, and he may have been born as early as November 1919.) The fam- ily settled in Brooklyn, New York, where his father opened a candy store that also sold newspapers and magazines. It was an en- terprise in which all members of the family participated. Perhaps not surprisingly, Isaac was drawn to the magazines, particularly the colorful science fiction publications. Asimov was a gifted student with a capa- cious memory who moved easily through grade school and high school. In the first of his autobiographies (he published two com- prehensive volumes and, later, two supple- mental tomes), he recounted how he would acquire his textbooks for the semester, read them on his walk home, and never open them again. When I interviewed him for the book I wrote about his life and work (1), I asked if he ever forgot anything, and he said that once he had been reciting the second verse of the U.S. national anthem and, for a moment, could not think of how it started. Asimov attended Seth Low Junior College, a branch of Columbia University in Brooklyn, graduating in 1939 from Columbia when Seth Low closed in 1938. He majored in chemistry after discovering in his freshman year that to major in zoology, one would be required to dissect cats. SCIENCE FICTION Asimov at 100 From epic space operas to rules for robots, the prolific author’s literary legacy endures INSIGHTS By James Gunn B O O K S e t a l . This pensive android appeared on the cover of Asimov’s 1990 collection Robot Visions. Published by AAAS o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ 3 JANUARY 2020 • VOL 367 ISSUE 6473 2 1S C I E N C E sciencemag.org P H O T O : M O N D A D O R I P O R T F O L IO / C O N T R IB U T O R / G E T T Y I M A G E S The year 1939 was also when Asimov’s first science fiction story was published in the magazine Astounding Science Fiction. The sale of his stories paid for his college expenses, including the master’s degree he would later earn in chemistry. (He was re- jected twice for medical school but would go on to earn his doctorate, again in chemistry.) In 1942, Asimov began research as a chem- ist at the Philadelphia Navy Yard. Meanwhile, he continued to sell stories but co nsidered himself a third-rate writer until his nov- elette “Nightfall” received a cover story in Astounding Science Fiction in 1941. The fol- lowing year, the first story of his Foundation series was published. During this period, he began the first of his robot stories, which were published together in 1950 as I, Robot. In September 1945, Asimov was drafted into the U.S. Army and served for 6 months before being honorably discharged. He re- turned to Columbia, where he earned his doctoral degree in 1948 before accept- ing his first (and only) academic ap- pointment at Boston University. Science fiction received a boost from World War II. The number of magazines publishing it increased in the aftermath of the war, and book publishers soon fol- lowed. The subsequent Space Age and concerns evoked by Sputnik also led to publishing opportunities in the realm of science popularization. Asimov’s en- gagement with the latter genre began with a 1953 biology text coauthored with two other faculty members. This would be the beginning of a series for which the earnings—together with those of his science fiction and other writing—soon exceeded his university salary. When Asimov was reprimanded for failing to conduct any research, he re- plied that he considered his writing his re- search. Shortly afterward, he was terminated. He had previously been promoted to the rank of associate professor with tenure, and after a 2-year battle it was determined that he would be allowed to stay on. He chose instead to leave to focus on his writing. B y the time I filmed him for my literature of science fiction film series in 1972, Asimov was living in a high-rise off of Central Park and was in the middle of divorcing his first wife. “Science fiction writers and readers didn’t put a man on the moon,” he reflected during our interview, “but they created a cli- mate of opinion in which the goal of putting a man on the moon became acceptable.” Asimov had, by this time, already pub- lished his hundredth book—the previously mentioned Opus 100—and was, it turned out, only just getting started. Soon his books, written on topics ranging from the Bible to the human body, began appearing as often as monthly, leading Harvard paleontologist George C. Simpson to call him “one of our natural wonders and national resources” (1). Asimov was a popular public speaker and a regular participant in science fiction conventions, where, despite having earned a formidable reputation as one of the “big three” science fiction authors of the era, he remained approachable. He participated in a variety of social organizations, includ- ing Mensa; the Humanist Society (of which he was named the honorary president); the Baker Street Irregulars, a society dedicated to the appreciation of Sherlock Holmes; and the Trap-Door Spiders, a luncheon group that served as the inspiration for the fic- tional Black Widowers club in a series of mystery stories and novels he wrote. Kurt Vonnegut is reported to have once asked Asimov how it felt to be the man who knows everything, to which Asimov is said to have replied that he only knew how it felt to have the reputation of omniscience. On another occasion, an editor reportedly en- couraged Asimov to write an autobiography. “But I’ve never done anything,” he protested. He returned a year later with a thick manu- script. When the editor failed to protest its length, Asimov left and returned with an- other manuscript, just as thick. “What would you have written if you had done anything?” the editor is said to have replied. Although he claimed no false modesty— “nor true modesty either” (2)—he insisted on acknowledging the role of others in his suc- cess. He credited editor John W. Campbell with the invention of the three laws of robot- ics and with introducing him to the Ralph Waldo Emerson quotation that inspired Asimov to write “Nightfall”: “If the stars should appear one night in a thousand years, how would men believe and adore; and preserve for many generations the remem- brance of the city of God which had been shown! But every night come out these en- voys of beauty, and light the universe with their admonishing smile.” An d in an article in Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine (3), Asimov credited my words with helping him overcome his fears about writing a se- quel to the Foundation trilogy. Th e resulting series (4) brought the Foundation trilogy and his robot novels together into a single future history and became his first bestseller. A case can be made that, like H. G. Wells, Asimov came along at the right time. (Wells once commented that he made his writing debut in the 1890s, when the public was looking for new writers.) But Asimov also had a restless and productive mind. His early experience of reading, and then writ- ing, science fiction gave his popular science writing a rare narrative model, while his fiction similarly benefited from his scientific training. Some of Asimov’s critics complained that his writing lacked style. He re- sponded by asserting that he had a style: clarity. But it also was true that he was able to adopt new methods, par- ticularly in his later works. Asimov’s fiction was based on the presumption that humanity would solve its problems by thinking coolly and logically. In his nonfiction writ- ing, he often grappled with the messier realities of human nature. There are no records of how many minds he in- fluenced with the latter, but his abil- ity to communicate difficult scientific ideas in simple language has not been equaled since. Asimov once told a friend that if he had a hang-up, it was his desire to write, saying that he wanted to die with his nose stuck between two typewriter keys. It did not happen that way. His second wife and widow, Janet, con- firmed after his death that Asimov had con- tracted AIDS from a blood transfusion during open-heart surgery a decade before. He had been persuaded by his doctors to keep this information confidential, because of concerns that it would deter people from undergoing necessary surgery. He died from complica- tions of the disease in 1992 at the age of 72. But his legacy, and his books, remain. j R E F E R E N C E S A N D N OT E S 1. J. E. Gunn, Isaac Asimov: The Foundations of Science Fiction (Oxford Univ. Press, 1982). 2. J. E. Gunn, Alternate Worlds: The Illustrated History of Science Fiction (A & W Visual Library, 1975). 3. I. Asimov, “The story behind the ‘Foundation’,” Isaac Asimov’s Science Fiction Magazine, December 1982. 4. I. Asimov, Foundation’s Edge (Doubleday, 1982). 10.1126/science.aba0303 The reviewer is the founder of the Gunn Center for the Study of Science Fiction, University of Kansas, Lawrence, KS 66045, USA. Email: jgunn@ku.edu Asimov brought drama and narrative to his nonfiction science writing and often grounded his fiction in real scientific principles. Published by AAAS o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ Asimov at 100 James Gunn DOI: 10.1126/science.aba0303 (6473), 20-21.367Science ARTICLE TOOLS http://science.sciencemag.org/content/367/6473/20 PERMISSIONS http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions Terms of ServiceUse of this article is subject to the is a registered trademark of AAAS.ScienceScience, 1200 New York Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20005. The title (print ISSN 0036-8075; online ISSN 1095-9203) is published by the American Association for the Advancement ofScience Science. No claim to original U.S. Government Works Copyright © 2020 The Authors, some rights reserved; exclusive licensee American Association for the Advancement of o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/content/367/6473/20 http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions http://www.sciencemag.org/about/terms-service http://science.sciencemag.org/ 
work_aczssbmt5fdzpaav35lf7zoeza	----	An Interdisciplinary Approach to the Design Studio: Poetry as a Complementary Feature to the Creative Process Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 1877-0428 © 2012 Published by Elsevier Ltd. Selection and/or peer review under responsibility of Prof. Ay e Çak r lhan doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2012.08.214 ARTSEDU 2012 An interdisciplinary approach to the design studio: poetry as a complementary feature to the creative process Deniz Hasirci a *, Zeynep Tuna Ultav b a zmir University of Economics, Faculty of Fine Arts and Design, Department of Interior Architecture and Environmental Design, Sakarya Cad. No. 156, Balçova, zmir, 35330, Turkey b zmir University of Economics, Faculty of Fine Arts and Design, Department of Interior Architecture and Environmental Design, Sakarya Cad. No. 156, Balçova, zmir, 35330, Turkey Abstract In this study, we aim to display the results of an interior architecture studio experience, which was structured on an interdisciplinary approach by linking literature and design. In order to establish this interdisciplinary ground and utilize the potential of fruitful creative connections by establishing an association between distinct fields, poetry was selected as a t ool to provide inspirational grounds for students to achieve ‘other ways of seeing. Thus, we structured this study on the idea of potential contribution of literary text and related design concepts evoked, to the creative process of interior architecture education. Selection and/or peer review under responsibility of Prof. Dr. Ayse Çak r Ilhan. Keywords: Design studio, design education, interdisciplinary, creative thinking process, cognition 1. Introduction Our main goal in this project was to stimulate design ideas through inspiration and clues derived from poetry, the poets’ lives, and a variety of interpretations on them. We applied this project in the Izmir University of Economics, Turkey, the second semester of the second year Department of Interior Architecture and Environmental Design. The project adopted an interdisciplinary approach in which poetry was an intermediate instrument and an inspiration source in a residential interior architecture project. Based on the theories and research addressing interdisciplinary connections in creative decision-making during the design process, we analyzed interpretation and concept- formation in the initial stages of design. We categorized the characteristics of the sources for the concept and sought means of supporting these decisions for the main purpose of enhancing academic creativity. We made use of an innovative method of teaching and learning interior design with literature. The students chose the users of the houses they would design according to an initial research on poetry of the given poets and their lives in the design studio. Several ‘facts’ about the poets’ lives and the poems were open to interpretation, however; there was ground from which to build the concept. This distant connection between different fields marks the interdisciplinary nature of the project, and it was believed that it would enhance creative thinking by allowing innovative interpretation. * Asst. Prof. Dr. Deniz Hasirci. Tel.: +90-232-411-7106 E-mail address: deniz.hasirci@ieu.edu.tr Available online at www.sciencedirect.com Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ 619 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 2. Interdisciplinary Approach as a Method in the Creative Process In order to enable the distant connection mentioned above, ‘difference making,’ was a necessary ingredient of the creative thinking process (Okada et al., 2009, p. 199). As people are restricted by what they know, it is difficult to bring to life something that is truly original. As the amount of knowledge increases throughout the years, it becomes more and more difficult to produce creative design solutions. Creativity levels tend to diminish due to increased levels of ‘knowledge’ in social rules and regulations, effort in emulating reality, as well as trying to obey architectural rules and conventions in design students (Hasirci and Demirkan, 2003). Less flexible than art education, design education embodies several conventions. In an interior design studio, rules related to construction methodology, fire control, universal design in addition to drawing conven tions oblige one to concentrate greatly on the technical aspects, and less on creative decisions (Dacey, 1989; Suwa, Purcell and Gero, 1998). Consequently, effort needs to be given to attain the delicate balance between gaining expertise and allowing original thoughts to flourish. Establishing links between ordinarily distinct subjects is one of the best methods to support creative thinking (Hasirci and Demirkan, 2007). First, awareness of this need is critical, and can be achieved in different ways (Suwa, Purcell, and Gero, 1998). Brainstorming, developed by Osborn, depends on the same technique of linking seemingly unrelated ideas for originality (1953). Torrance states that, ‘when there is no practiced or learned solution to a problem, some degree of creativity is required’ (as cited in Shaugnessy, 1998, p. 443). In creative thinking, not only differences, but also similarities between ideas in different fields are focused on to generate new ideas. This interdisciplinary idea of bringing together similarities and differences applies well to the design field. As Nesbitt, states, ‘in the process of associating architecture with other disciplines after the 1960s, there has been much concentration of space as a direct text and/or reading of it through literary texts about the production of knowledge related to space’ (Nesbitt, 1996, p. 16-17). In addition to producing knowledge in the theoretical realm of spatial design, the use of poetry can be put forward as an influential and interdisciplinary tool to stimulate students’ potentials in developing creative design solutions. In this respect, this tool is considered to serve as an innovative method of teaching and learning interior design on the basis of interdisciplinary approach. We asked the students to concentrate on three of the poems of a poet. This kind of an interdisciplinary approach has been employed in other schools. For example, Tschumi mentions that a series of literary projects were organized in the studio using Italo Calvino’s ‘Invisible Cities,’ Franz Kafka’s ‘Burrow,’ Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Masque of the Red Death’. Also in New Jersey School of Architecture, upper level Architectural Design Studio was premised on the theme of Architecture and Literature, in which the students were searching the sources of inspiration in literary texts. For more information see B. Bolak, ‘Constructed Space in Literature as Represented in Novels as a Case Study: The Black Book by Orhan Pamuk’. As explained by Eribon, the interdisciplinary approach is important in the sense that each discipline develops within the framework of an episteme, the totality of which forms a grid of knowledge suggesting a link in part with other sciences contemporary with it (Mills, 2003). Pavel (1985) associates interdisciplinarity to both the growing willingness to share methodology and the need to have recourse to research in some other discipline. The necessity underlined by Pavel for social sciences in general is also valid for the realm of architectural knowledge. While it is discussed among literary theory that spatial elements should be used by forming literary images in order to strengthen the narration, it is also possible to search for a reverse relationship in order to enrich the epistemological realm of design. In this respect, interior design education is an efficient medium within the aim of an interdisciplinary method in terms of constructing effective solutions leading to knowledge through literature. The 620 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 scale of the field also allows for this, as it is in an intermediary position tying design to the human being. The unique position of the field enables more possibilities for this interaction, compared to for instance, city planning. 3. The Design Process In most studies on the design process in education, there is a lack of a comprehensive approach to this realm of knowledge, due to the concentration on the terms creativity or cognition, and an ignorance of other significant processes such as, interaction with other fields, discussion, and accessing and transforming information from the environment. This limits both the understanding and the generalizability of the results derived from a study. Issues of creativity and decision-making are the subject matter of cognition. Cognitive abilities involve ‘discovery, recognition, and comprehension of information in various forms,’ (Guilford, 1968, p. 108) and also the intellectual activities that enable us to learn and understand the world around us (Candy and Edmonds, 1999). ‘Cognitive learning’ requires an experience and interpretation process to have taken place, and memory to play an important role. The way in which information is received, organized and developed is significant for cognitive learning (Morgan, 1977; O’Neill and Shallcross, 1994; Akin, 1984; Von der Weth, 1999; Daniels McGhee and Davis, 1994; Guilford, 1967). Evolving from the initial stages to the final improves the constructive memory as there is need for accumulation of information from one stage to the next (Chiu, 2003). In cognitive learning, changes in information processing, meaning given to things in the environment, visual and sensational information received, and thus, behaviour takes place. Mere exposition to a variety of information can be sufficient for learning process (Christiaans, 2002; Cropley, 1999; Demirkan and Hasirci, 2009; Morgan, 1977). Furthermore, associations between objects in the environment and experiences are very critical. Individuals involved in creative production have often reported to adopt a scheme, motif, or plan early in the process (Firestien, 1993). This system or skeleton is detailed throughout the process as it proceeds. It is constantly evaluated, transformed, and revised at different levels of elaboration (Firestien, 1993; Guilford, 1968; Eisentraut and Gunther, 1997; Plsek, 1997; Kristensen, 2004). Design, that inherently involves a creative problem-solving activity, necessitates the making of decisions in order to fulfill certain objectives. Generally, someone in the process of designing has to be flexible and adapt their problem-solving technique to the requirements of the situation (Eisentraut, 1999; Lubart, 2001). The way in which this cognitive activity is carried out in design is actually similar to the individual’s usual approach to other problems in life. A unique, designed product is the result of this whole process of creative problem-solving (Akin and Akin, 1998; Akin, 1984; Kokotovich and Purcell, 2000; Lubart, 2001). According to Plsek (1997), even ‘everyday living’ is a creative activity. Careful ‘observation’ of the world is followed by thoughtful ‘analyses’ of how things work and fail. The reserve that we end up having as a result of these activities help us ‘generate’ original ideas by way of ‘combining’ and ‘associating’ different concepts. This is done in different ways such as, applying analogies. In order to be able to make good decisions, we ‘harvest’ and ‘enhance’ our ideas before we reach a final ‘evaluation’ of the topic followed by the ‘implementation’ of them. The real life experiencing of the idea that is put into trial follows the implementation, and the cycle begins over again. Preparation, imagination, development, and action are the four phases of the model. Additionally, drawings as a design tool at each of these stages are used directly for thinking and indirectly for making. Making takes place following a thinking phase that makes use of several drawings at different levels of development. The separation of the two phases helps in planning large and complex things by considering disparate elements (Jones, 1992; Isaksen and Dorval 1993). Recognizing, identifying, and supporting of these empathetic activities at different stages of the design process are necessary for two reasons. First, although any creative design process begins with a significant user-defining 621 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 stage, often it does not extend into the following stages of design, and loses importance and effectiveness during the course of the process (Verstijnen et al., 1998). Also, design students are frequently so caught up in employing design principles that, they unintentionally lessen the role of the user in their designs. Especially in the long run, negligence of the users’ characteristics and needs may cause various problems, and may influence the ‘co-evolving’ nature of the previous spaces explained by Dorst and Cross (2001, p. 427). Second, comes the importance of ‘user- identification.’ In the design field, the branches of design that are as much functional as they are aesthetic, and deal with a user group and/ or client, the issue of identifying with the user is critical. However, it has not been investigated to a great extent. The design studio gives the opportunity of experimenting with various ideas using various creative ideas that are either reproductions of previous memories or combinations of them, considering the requirements of the curriculum. Hence, with this study we aim to stimulate the process of creative decision-making as a cognitive process during a design task by linking distinct fields, and to investigate ways to improve the creative characteristics and quality of decisions that are made in the design studio, assuming that this will result in the conception of creative spaces, with results that extend into professional life. 4. Purpose of Research Promoting the need to read and feed off on various sources was a significant aim of the study by supporting the stages of the creative design process with a link to another field in a way that necessitated thinking ‘outside the box.’ Linguistics has greatly affected the field of design in general. Verbal abstract concepts can lead to creative visual design ideas (Oxman, 2002). Kristeva (1980) generalizes the theoretical agenda of the post-war period with emphasis on the power of language by stating that the sixties witnessed a theoretical ebullience that would be summarized as the discovery of the role of language in all human sciences. It might be proposed that the discipline of design, which has a strong visual component –the production itself–, has also developed a relationship to the linguistic sciences. Language resembles spatial design in several ways. Basa (2000) draws a parallel in the way that language has ‘syntax,’ ‘semantics’ and ‘grammar’ while spatial design has ‘building,’ ‘theory’ and ‘structure’ (p. 182). In this respect, there is a parallelism between linguistics and spatial conception. Thus, both poetry and literature can be the tools of such an interdisciplinary design method. However, poetry may sometimes be considered as more affluent with regard to literature for creative design purposes, which can be supported by Bachelard’s statement that is ‘… a poet will always be more suggestive than a philosopher… Pursuing the dynamism that belongs to suggestion, then, the reader can go farther, even too far’ (as cited in Basa, 2000, p. 182). The use of poetic image is inseparable from spatial practice as employed by Bachelard. In this sense, interior space is much more related to reflecting the above-mentioned poetic feature. Despite this parallelism in terms of the language, there is a contradiction between the language of poetry and that of design. However, this is utilized as an advantage to stimulate friction that leads to creativity. Poet Schuster explains this friction as poetry being the opposite of spatial design, since poetry is ‘destabilizing, disorganizing, and collapsing’ (Grillner and Hughes, 2009, p. 64). Ralph Waldo Emerson addresses ‘the reciprocal effects of poetry and literature on the human need for creative expression and stimulation of the imagination’ (Antoniades, 1992, p. 104) that could be channeled into the design process with rewarding results (Grillner and Hughes, 2009). Thus, the reason for selecting poetry for an interdisciplinary experience within the design studio is the belief in the potential of poetry to provide a medium to encourage and arouse the creative design abilities of the students. The tools of imagination as a road to creativity are presented to students as inherent in the literal text of poetry. In this sense, creative thinking in design is very much related to poetry. 622 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 5. The ‘Poet’s House’ Project The second year aims to be the introductory year to the department, and acts as a base for the future challenging years. Here, for the first time, students come into contact with the significant idea of ‘concept building.’ We aim to enhance the studio environment by desk critiques, group work, and seminars and the basics of the field of interior design are given in this studio with an emphasis on innovation, functionality, feasibility, aesthetic values, and presentation techniques. In the studio we aim to provide the students with an intellectual base as part of the creative process, as well as an awareness of design and being an interior architect. A project with a focus on literatur e also has this type of scholarly purpose. In this project, we asked the students to create a new interior design proposal for a house built for a poet, whom they chose from the given list that included Attila Ilhan, Cemal Sureya, Edip Cansever, Nazim Hikmet, Gulten Akin, and Lale Muldur -all prominent Turkish poets. Having read the poems, we expected the students to come up with an interpretation that led them to a profile of the poet they chose. As the next stage, we asked them to conceptualize the atmosphere of the space with regard to the information they derived from the poems, the poet’s life scenario, and other resources. Students’ designs necessitated an evaluation of the existing house and surrounding, in addition to a clear understanding and interpretation of the poet’s needs as a user. Thus, they were responsible of reading the poems and interpreting them, taking this interpretation further and turning it into a concept and designing the interior space of the house, which included design of the whole volumetric space. We did not accept changes on the outer shell of the building; however, we expected the students to take into consideration the surrounding of the house and approach to it, the door and window design, and balconies and terraces. Students were expected to submit two A0 size sheets, one focusing on the concept, scenario and plans, and the other on the technical aspects, sections and elevations, details, and material specifications in addition to their model. 5.1. The method Although an interdisciplinary approach aims to stretch disciplinary boundaries, it needs boundaries of its own to protect its free-ranging activities (Fuller, 2009). Concepts are the ‘general ideas’ formed to identify, to organize and to distinguish something abstract. Concepts, established under the authority of a discourse arrange and pattern the related field. In this respect, the boundaries of the act of borrowing within the studio process are defined within the studio aims. Departing from Barthes’ suggestion as the reader as the ‘sole producer of meaning’ in a text (Bachelard, 1994, p. 91), the aim of the interior design studio was to use the effectiveness of stimulating students to create peculiar meanings from the texts of the poems. Thus, in an intertextual relationship as described by Kristeva, the meanings of the texts being ‘quoted’ and transformed into the means of spatial language are employed in the design project in a new meaning (1980). This would also be effective in ‘establishing links between ordinarily distinct subjects’ as a tool for supporting creative design thinking. In terms of producing meaning from the texts within the aims of a design studio practice, Antoniades describes two modes of ‘direct inspirations’ in reading literature in order to establish a channel to spatial work: ‘static literal interpretation’ and ‘dynamic interpretation.’ In his statement, Direct Inspiration occurs through literal interpretations of the environments described in the literary work. The structure of the studio is based on dynamic interpretation, in which ‘the architectural product is free of the direct depiction and focuses instead on the abstract communication of the ‘aura,’ the ‘spatial ambiance,’ and the overall ‘essence’ of the literary piece’ rather than a static interpretation in which ‘one makes a direct visual interpretation of the form and space elements of the environment as described in the literary work’ (Antoniades, 1992, p. 104). 623 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Antoniades mentions that through the design exercises that depend on metaphoric departures, utilized by architects throughout this century as a channel to architectural creativity, within design education, it is possible to test and to develop students’ fantasy and imagination. He classifies ‘metaphors’ into three categories: ‘intangible metaphors,’ ‘tangible metaphors’ and ‘combined metaphors’ (Antoniades, 1992, p. 30). Considering the use of metaphor as ‘conceptualization,’ which is a significant tool in the creative mechanism of the students, the production of the conceptual idea was encouraged at the beginning of the project. In this respect, the students were encouraged to employ ‘Intangible Metaphors,’ ‘which include ‘an idea, a human condition, or a particular quality (individuality, naturalness, community, tradition, culture).’ There was an effort on the instructors’ part to hinder students from using ‘Tangible Metaphors’ as a direct use of the material or form of the inspiration source, however, there were still projects that could not escape this. 5.2. The Poets interpreted In the selection of poets, first, we chose Turkish poets to raise awareness about the native poetry culture, and considering that the representation of the homeland culture would better inspire the students. Antoniades (1992) explains this as helping students ‘produce works that will be in tune with the intellectual and spiritual life of the place they come from or the particular place for which they design since poetry is the power of the collective emotion of a people, the collective critical attitude of a place, the birth of life from within’ (p. 114). Second, we showed effort to not include poets with extreme views, and also to balance men and women poets for gender equilibrium. Poets with different writing and living styles were chosen to support creative ideas in the studio. The application of the data that students derived from the reading of poems rests on two grounds: One is the inspiration from the poems; the other is the inspiration from the life scenario of the poets. Both recourses resulted with the employment of either tangible or intangible metaphors or the combination both. We observed several philosophical approaches in the projects. The students, who were more capable of using the tools of imagery employed intangible metaphors in their projects through conceptualizing the idea derived from the poems. In this approach, the inspirations from the poems were effective more in terms of spatial solutions. Student works represented repeating ideational patterns in the poems, such as the concepts of observation, femininity, mystery, innocence and sincerity, in the form of spaces as well as that of furniture on the one hand, and the use of materials and colors on the other. For example, in Project 1, the student utilized the concept of ‘Observation’ found repeatedly in E. Cansever’s poems as a space organizing tool. The student connected spaces with architectural elements or furniture having openings to provide a visual connection between them (Figure 1). The aim was to create an environment in which one could observe almost all spaces from any point within the house. Also, there was not only visual, but physical connection, as the user would be able to use the furniture such as shelves from both spaces it connects on two sides. Moreover, the student built a substructure in th e large empty space to bring definition to and to frame the gaze, and then to allow it to wander freely in the space. Various levels within the space aim to provide variety in definition without barriers, such as walls or panels. 624 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 1. Concept of ‘Observation’ in E. Cansever’s house as a visual connection element The student also places the user at the very centre of the design through transforming the interior into an act of observing his own life since observing becomes the main activity of the user. Departing from the idea of one’s loneliness and lack of communication, and concentrating on one’s self in the boundaries of the house, the student transforms observation into the language spatial design through an extreme emphasis of framing and reminding the user of the boundary between himself and the object that is observed. The observed part soon becomes the place of observation as soon as the user changes his position in the interior, because the framing takes over different versions to remind the user of the observation activity. Thus, the user observes different parts of his life from inside the other parts where the outer boundary is kept as a setting. In this respect, the idea of observation both separates and links spaces through the volume definition and the use of its furniture, which serves this philosophical setting. In this proposal, a similarity between two fields is seen: the concept of observation taken from the repertoire of the language of poetry is transferred into spatial language through the use of furniture as a tool of spatial observation. The indirect inspirations also resulted in the use of several forms, which are reminiscent of the use of particular elements in the poems. In this respect, some projects interpreted femininity as one of those elements in terms of the forms of spaces as well as furniture. For instance, the emphasis of female body and of a softer feminine context in C. Sureya’s poems oriented some students to producing curvilinear forms (Figure 2). In Project 2, although the structure of the house provides a rectilinear and rigid frame, softer lines in the interior both respect the structure, yet defy it with the curvilinear connections between spaces, transitions between forms, and lack of stringency. The structural as well as non-structural elements such as furniture and interior finishes carry these characteristics where the house itself is set as a masculine boundary whereas the contrasting interior spaces and furniture are set as feminine. 625 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 2. Curvilinear forms in C. Süreya’s house representing female body The intangible metaphors led to the generation of volumetric decisions or the furniture as the structural elements that develop those volumes, but also in material decisions. For example, the idea of ‘mystery’ derived from the overall essence of the poems of C. Sureya was interpreted as the use of translucent materials by a student from which one can guess yet not fully see what lies behind. What becomes ‘mysterious’ to the user is the space itsel f through the use of concealing materials as a tool. Students often utilized the conscious use of a colour scheme in order to strengthen the conceptual idea as an effective tool. Students conveyed some moods such as straightforwardness, sincerity and innocence through the exaggerated use of a few colors. In Project 3, the student used achromatic colors, mostly white, and transparent materials to reflect the straightforwardness and sincerity in A. Ilhan’s poems. Within the use of a complementary color scheme, the student also used black and added yellow as an accent color to express apparent contrasts and striking directness in his use of words (Figure 3). In another project, a student used white for reflecting the widespread meaning referring to innocence, and red for reflecting eroticism inherent in C. Sureya’s poems. The colors in these cases become quite accentuated to reveal the idea inherent in the poems. 626 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 3. Use of white colour together with black and yellow as well as transparent materials in A. lhan’s house to reflect the straightforwardness in his poems In the use of materials, students called upon the tangible metaphors. For example, the largest surfaces within the house, the flooring of one of the projects for A. Ilhan is ebony, which was inspired from the poem ‘Abanoz’ (‘Ebony’), although the content of the poem has nothing to do with the material. Another one-to-one inspiration from the name as well as the content of a poem was from C. Sureya’s poem entitled ‘Ucgenler’ (‘Triangles’). In this respect, in Project 4, the student generated the plan through various interpretations of triangular forms (Figure 4). The student developed the idea in not only generating the plan scheme, but also using interior architectural elements that formed a triangle in order to divide and define spaces. Moreover, the design of the ceiling and the position of lighting equipment accentuated the idea. In some projects, students used concrete spatial elements, repeated continuously in the poems of a poet, as interior design tools. For example, in one project there was a prominent large mirror to represent C. Sureya’s poem entitled ‘Kan Var Butun Kelimelerin Altinda’ (‘Under All Words is Blood’) becoming a focal point in the space. The student used the semiotic potential of mirrors that reflect life and emulate it as in the poem, to also functionally create a spacious area. C. Sureya uses the metaphor of Euclidean triangles in an ironic way to represent the different edges of life coming together in a geometric form that is metaphorically life. The student, here, transforms the metaphor of triangles to a regular use of triangular approach in spatial as a metaphoric reminder of life, which becomes a formal representation of the poem. Thus, the student produces acute spatialities which are also revealed in Sureya’s poems as acute lives. 627 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 4. Generation of the plan through triangular forms in C. Süreya’s house representing the poem ‘Triangles’ There were also design approaches, which included the ‘combined metaphors.’ In this respect, nature and technology were two ‘concepts’ that were helpful for the students to develop the spatial environment through the accentuated/dominant use of materials and colors according to universal design connotations. The poets’ appreciation of nature was interpreted in the use of natural materials such as wood with the least amount of treatment and visual connections to the outside through the full use of vast windows on the front facade, while their appreciation of technology was materialized through the use of glass and steel with smoother finishes. In a project for E. Cansever, the staircase represented technology through its glass steps and steel balustrades which led to smooth connections between spaces. In the projects for N. Hikmet, who was a follower of Soviet futurism, the employment of materials that represented technology was very apparent. Therefore the students, who wanted to evoke technology, especially in the design proposals for N. Hikmet, used transparent materials and achromatic and/or metallic colors together (Figure 5). The emphasis on the technological environment as a conceptual idea is tangible in the sense that employment of glass and aluminum rather than traditional residential mater ials such as wood represents technological environment, and intangible in the sense that the student praises the technological life style as N. Hikmet does in his poems through the reflection of technological environment and doubling the effect. In Project 5, the student formally softened materials in the project through the use of non-orthogonal geometries accentuating the potentials of technology in interior treatments. The traditionally built walls of the actual house, its structure, and its down-to-earth quality brought out the stark contrast between the more organic and the artificial. Figure 5. Use of transparent materials and metallic colours in N. Hikmet’s house to represent technology 628 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Reading poems involved not only comprehending and interpreting the poem, but also understanding the poets’ lives. In this respect, the students were more inclined to refer to tangible metaphors, which were produced using the scenarios as the basic tools to solve plan schemes functionally. For example, C. Sureya’s emphasis on the pleasures of social drinking impelled one of the students to design an over-accentuated drinking space at the centre of the plan arrangement. Similarly, in Project 6, a house designed for E. Cansever, the fireplace and the seating arrangement are intertwined in such a way to the point of becoming inseparable, and to enrich the enjoyment of spirits for the poet (Figure 6). When seated, the user faces the fireplace, as well as having visual access to the view outside with the angled layout. Teak floors enhance the feeling of warmth created by the fireplace allowing for a pleasurable environment to enjoy wine and company. This approach shows that one of the interior elements; in this case fireplace together with the staircase, can affect the life scenario of the user through the exaggerated plan arrangement of that interior element. The student used clues from the poet’s life scenario, but there is still a dynamic interpretation. For instance, the student interpreted the joy of life through the employment of fireplace in representative terms, and that of the staircase as a metaphor of revealing that joy through the dynamic element of circulation. Figure 6. Fireplace and the seating arrangement intertwined in E. Cansever’s house Some projects utilized some actual architectural components, such as furniture, staircase, mezzanine slab and some abstract architectural components like scale in such a way to make the poet continue his/her daily rituals. In Project 7, the student established resemblances, such as the interpretation of the gallery as the deck of a ship or that of the bedroom as a ship cabin, through the employment of scale component. Thus, one can treat a residential interior element out of the context of that residential unit. Since A. Ilhan stated that he generally wrote in ships, patisseries or hotels, in one project, furniture for his house was designed in such way to resemble that environment. In this respect, the furniture on which he performs writing activities was treated in a ‘French style.’ The student also gave this spatial feeling of a compact and defined character through the use of scale in these terms. The student handled the bedroom in a small scale in order to make the poet feel as if he was staying in a hotel or a ship cabin. In this respect, the student designed the staircase in a narrow scale to reinforce the feeling of being in a ship. The mezzanine slab was like a deck of a ship, making the user feel as if he was the captain overlooking the sea (Figure 7). Regarding the emphasis on ‘sea’ as an important element of nature in A. Ilhan’s poems, another student treated the pool as a sea by extending the window as a balcony, which represented the ‘deck’ going over the sea. 629 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 7. Mezzanine slab in A. lhan’s house representing a deck of a ship The life scenarios of the poets also helped the students to arrange the volumetric quality of the space through the use of intangible metaphors. In Project 8, according to the interpretation of the student, the life of A. Ilhan, who spent most of his life in Istanbul, Izmir and Paris, gave clues about how to design a house for him. In this respect, the student interpreted these cities as a metaphorical triangle in the poet’s life. The student separated the house into three vertical and horizontal parts, which he called ‘islands in the house,’ compartmentalizing, yet combining the characteristic qualities of each city under a single design language. Furthering his concept of ‘island,’ the student also presented the house as the poet’s island. The life cycle of the same poet going through these cities also influenced the plan organization of another student. Treating A. Ilhan’s voyages as a triangle in the same way, the student realized the triangle of the poet’s life into a 30°-60°-90° triangle, which the student asserts as the most determinate geometric shape (Figures 8-9). Some other spatial elements such as the design of the furniture or the use of materials were kept simple in the design that the triangular plan arrangement is accentuated. 630 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 8. Organization of 30°-60°-90° triangles in A. Ilhan’s house representing his voyages in Project 8 631 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 Figure 9. Concept explanation and technical drawings of Project 8 632 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 As seen in the examples above, the life scenarios of the poets affected the actual architectural elements of the projects, such as the formal configuration of each space on plan, the furniture type and arrangement, and the form as well as the scale of staircases and slabs more than the employment of surface elements such as materials and colors as representatives. Only in one project, a student represented the melancholic days of C. Sureya’s life student through the dominant use of dark colors (Figure 10). Figure 10. Dark colours to represent the melancholic days of C. Süreya’s life 6. Discussion and Conclusion This study shows how cross-disciplinary exchange is valuable in the way that it offers other modes of philosophy to one’s ‘home discipline.’ Such work embraces the goal of advancing understanding (e.g., explain phenomena, craft solutions, raise new questions) in ways that would not be possible to reach through the boundaries of a single discipline. Thus, one of the reasons of having recourse to interdisciplinary approach is the need to find answers which cannot be provided through the frontiers of a single discipline; and the other is that the increasing the variety of options provided through the disciplinary boundaries of other disciplines. In this respect, regarding the potential of linguistics to ‘transport us to other realities’; it became a model for the construction of interior space in design studio proposals. We selected the fruitful field of poetry as a ‘complimentary feature’ to the creative design process. The association of different concepts, resulting in more original results enhanced the creative process that followed the trail of preparation, imagination, development, and action. The students have stated that, this project has enabled them to first become aware of literature and poetry. Several students admitted to having read poems, and owning a poetry book for the first time by means of this project. Since the poetry-design studio relationship is not a traditional method within the boundaries of design education, the students were impelled to think creatively through ‘innovative interpretations’ that included the employment of ‘metaphors.’ The effort students spent in trying to connect the fields of design and literature and to interpret it obliged them to be creative by linking disparate opinions. This method has not only taught students about design considerations, but also about literature. It has made the students identify different sources of information they could use from the poet’s life, poems, and photographs showing them conducting various activities, and focus on mainly 633 Deniz Hasirci and Zeynep Tuna Ultav / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 51 ( 2012 ) 618 – 634 one of these that they thought would be the most rewarding. This required for a cognitive attentiveness on their part. Students have fully tried to understand the poems, in the end having more than one layer of meaning in their hands. The students have gone through a process of empathy and identification with the user, trying to grasp the various parts of their lives. For these reasons, giving interior design students a project as such in their preliminary years is believed to have expanded their way of thinking and provided them with a developed intellectual background. Future directions for this study may be to try other fields as resources that might enrich the design concept, instead of focusing solely on the basic requirements of the field that might be limiting cognitive and creative thinking processes. Acknowledgements The authors wish to express their sincere gratitude to their colleagues, M.Sc. Ozge Basagac, M.A. Sedef Akad, Rana Vanli and M.Des. Meltem Eranil Demirli, who put their tremendous efforts into the design studio process and to the owners of the projects in this paper Umit Caglar, Duygu Cinar, Seyda Cobanoglu, Ilkan Oktay, Kerem Ozerler, Ceren Usta, Mert Can Uzyildirim, and Celal Yahsi. References Akin, O. (1984). Psychology of Architectural Design. Pittsburgh, PA: Carnegie-Mellon University. Akin, O., & Akin, C. (1998). On the process of creativity in puzzles, inventions, and designs. Automation in Construction, 7, 123-38. Antoniades, A. C. (1992). Poetics of Architecture: Theory of design. New York, NY: Van Nostrand Reinhold. 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work_abzgtnz5pnhhdli33i2hxtormu	----	S0021875818000506jra 925..952 Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics and the Dawn of the American Energy Crisis ALAN ACKERMAN Situating Edith Wharton in the context of America’s accelerating petro-culture, this essay argues that her novels critique a society that takes for granted high-volume, nonrenewable energy, and specifically revolutionary new kinds of energy: petroleum, natural gas, and the fossil-fueled power stations necessary for the large-scale, continuous production of electricity. Attention to the idiom of energy in The House of Mirth and its mirror text, The Custom of the Country, along with Ida Tarbell’s History of Standard Oil and Theodore Roosevelt’s conservationism, sheds new light on assumptions about moral agency, personal freedom, changing modes of thought, and the environment between  and World War I. The essay shows how Wharton’s allegorical treatment of Lily Bart and Undine Spragg anticipates the notion of exter- nalities or consequences of industrial activities that affect outside parties but are not reflected in the cost of production. We have become great because of the lavish use of our resources. But the time has come to inquire seriously what will happen when our forests are gone, when the coal, the iron, the oil, and the gas are exhausted, when the soils have still further impo- verished and washed into the streams, polluting the rivers, denuding the fields and obstructing navigation. Theodore Roosevelt, speech at Conference on the Conservation of Natural Resources,  May  The aesthetic is at once … the very secret prototype of human subjectivity in early capitalist society, and a vision of human energies as radical ends in themselves. Terry Eagleton, The Ideology of the Aesthetic Lily Bart, the doomed protagonist of Edith Wharton’s  novel The House of Mirth, discovers too late that she has wrongly “been accustomed to take herself … as a person of energy and resource.” I read this line, which seems a commonplace for personal wherewithal, as an allegory for America’s bur- geoning energy use at the dawn of the twentieth century. In doing so, I aim to advance the work of others in the field of energy humanities who have English Department, University of Toronto. Email: alan.ackerman@utoronto.ca.  Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth (New York: Penguin, ; first published ), . Journal of American Studies,  (), , – © Cambridge University Press and British Association for American Studies  doi:./S First published online  June  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core mailto:alan.ackerman@utoronto.ca https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core urged us to consider how specific ways of using energy shape culture and vice versa. Patricia Yeager, for example, asked in a  editor’s column for PMLA what happens if we “make energy sources a matter of urgency to literary criti- cism?” We have only to look at recent postapocalyptic fiction and film to see what has been largely taken for granted, that human societies are organized around specific energy resources and technologies, that we are not only part of a dynamic ecosystem but also capable of depleting it and, in the process, harming ourselves. Yeager wonders whether thinking about energy’s “visibility or invisibility” might change the way we read, what we read for, and whether there might be an “energy unconscious” like Frederic Jameson’s “political unconscious.” In her short column, these questions remain rhetorical, a prompt to the kind of analysis I aim to provide in the pages below. Attention to the idiom of energy – including energy anxiety – in The House of Mirth and The Custom of the Country () will shed new light on assump- tions about moral agency, personal freedom, changing modes of thought, and the environmental imagination between  and World War I. Thinking about energy involves anxiety because people think about it almost exclusively in the context of limitation. The exponential growth of an industrial economy after , with developments in electricity, the networking of homes, central heating, and more reliable internal combustion engines (among other things), required substantial new inputs and forms of energy on a constant basis. In consequence, as Wharton’s exceptionally anxious friend Henry Adams wrote in The Education of Henry Adams, theirs was a moment of radical tran- sition in which “mechanical energy had … converted itself into thought.” Edith Wharton charts the tragedy of Lily Bart in terms of resource depletion within a wasteful, energy-intensive economy that was transforming the land- scape as well as the human experience of time and space. Many read Lily alle- gorically, as a poetic construct signifying broader sociopolitical themes. In the eyes of her love interest Lawrence Selden, Lily is “the victim of the civilization which had produced her,” and, he imagines, she “must have cost a great deal to make.” That civilization may be defined narrowly as the turn-of-the-century New York leisure class, more broadly as American, or as a new world of indus- try, commerce, and materialism. Criticism follows Wharton’s own oft-quoted explanation of Lily’s symbolic importance in her memoir, A Backward Glance: “A frivolous society can acquire dramatic significance only through what its  Patricia Yaeger, editor’s column, “Literature in the Ages of Wood, Tallow, Coal, Whale Oil, Gasoline, Atomic Power, and Other Energy Sources,” PMLA, ,  (March ), –.  Henry Adams, The Education of Henry Adams (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, ; first published ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, , .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core frivolity destroys.” Yet, to most, the stakes seem more than frivolous. “Change the word ‘frivolous’ to ‘materialistic,’” wrote one critic in , and the story of Lily Bart assumes a larger significance. Edith Wharton was one of the first American novelists to adopt the possibilities of a theme which since the turn of the century has permeated our fiction: the waste of human and spiritual resources which in America went hand in hand with the exploitation of the land and the forests. It is not necessary to change Wharton’s words to understand what this society destroys as the human, spiritual, or “natural” resources consumed by a heedless petro-culture. The scrapping of the protagonist is foreshadowed from the opening pages, as the “American craving for novelty” frames the observation that there is “nothing new about Lily Bart.” America’s is not a culture of conservation. “The energy question is, at its core, a human question,” writes Imre Szeman, “that concerns accounting for the quality of human experience under the fossil fuel economy, reckoning with the increasing precarity of life under fossil fuels … The energy question centres on the values that frame our lives.” Active selves shape their world through concrete representations, performances, and objectifications. Wharton’s work not only resists the abstraction of early mod- ernism but also highlights the danger of abstraction in human terms, exploring sources of value as such: economic, moral, and aesthetic. She takes an anthropological interest in diverse cultures’ modes of valuing, from modern capitalist to feudal aristocratic societies, a project in fiction that exposes idealist impulses to materialist realities. Influenced by extensive reading in ethnog- raphy, sociology, philosophy, and evolutionary science, Wharton recognized that value is contingent, not absolute or static, and commented in her journal that it was “salutary now and then to be made to realise ‘Die Unwerthung aller Werthe’ [‘the re-evaluation of all values’].” Alone at the end, Lily finds that “her standard of values had changed.” But it would be more accurate to say that her earlier idealist “theory of values,” of which she becomes conscious only when altered circumstances cause her to compare herself to a friend, failed to account for concrete particularity, including the material processes of which she herself is a product.  Edith Wharton, A Backward Glance (New York: D. Appleton-Century Company, ), .  Blake Nevius, Edith Wharton: A Study of Her Fiction (Berkeley: University of California Press, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, , .  Imre Szeman, After Oil (Edmonton: Petrocultures Research Group, ), .  Quoted in R. W. B. Lewis, Edith Wharton: A Biography (New York: Harper & Row, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core Lily’s “story,” as she calls it (it’s also called a “tragedy” in the novel), cor- responds historically to increased press coverage of the Standard Oil Trust, spurred by Ida Tarbell’s muckraking series in McClure’s between  and , as well as the coal strike of , and America’s painful negotiations with its energy industries in these years are a crucial subtext. The society of The House of Mirth and of The Custom of the Country, in which people “were always coming and going” and “buildings are demolished before they’re dry,” takes high-volume, nonrenewable energy for granted and, specifi- cally, revolutionary new kinds of energy: petroleum, natural gas, and the fossil- fueled power stations necessary for the large-scale, continuous production of electricity. “I apprehend,” Henry Adams wrote to his brother Brooks in , for the next hundred years an ultimate, colossal, cosmic collapse; but not on any of our old lines. My belief is that science is to wreck us, and that we are like monkeys mon- keying with a loaded shell; we don’t in the least know or care where our practically infinite energies come from or will bring us to … It is mathematically certain to me that another thirty years of energy-development at the rate of the last century, must reach an impasse. Wharton is never so pessimistic and, in fact, often delighted in the techno- logical innovations of her age. Nonetheless, reading her novels in this context can help us to reevaluate the energy crisis that defines a historical period, beginning with the Second Industrial Revolution in the s. Wharton, like Adams, saw her own life within the contours of radical technological and economic change. She was born in , three years after the Drake oil well in western Pennsylvania launched the American oil industry and twenty before Thomas Edison established his first coal-fired power station in Manhattan. Her husband, Teddy, bought his first car in . The House of Mirth opens with a sighting of Lily in Grand Central Station, then undergoing a renovation that would replace steam engine service with a terminal for cleaner and faster electric trains – indicating some awareness of spillover costs associated with fossil fuels – and make it the biggest in the world. The primary motivation of the developers, however, was economic, not environ- mental or health-related, transforming the station, in the words of the chief engineer, “from a nonproductive agency of transportation to a self-contained producer of revenue – a gold mine, so to speak.” The decade-long project to  Edith Wharton, The Custom of the Country (), in Wharton, Novels (New York: The Library of America, ), –, , .  Henry Adams, The Letters of Henry Adams,  vols., ed. J. C. Levenson, Ernest Samuels, Charles Vandersee, and Viola Hopkins Winner (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), Volume V, .  Chief Engineer William J. Wilgus quoted in Sam Roberts, Grand Central: How a Train Station Transformed America (New York: Grand Central Publishing, ), .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core enlarge Grand Central was approved by a board that included Cornelius and William Vanderbilt, William Rockefeller, and J. P. Morgan – all prominent members of Wharton’s milieu. The reader sights Lily there for the first time “in the act of transition.” She stands out from rush-hour traffic as a refreshing vision, yet is less incongruous than she may appear. She is always in transition. Lily starts the novel waiting for a train and ends lifeless in a boarding house. A radiant twenty-nine years old in the first chapter, her story dramatizes the destructive capacity of a culture involved in a structural transformation to an unsustainable high-energy system that had been picking up steam from roughly the time of her birth in the s. The adjective “radiant,” a familiar term for transmitting light or heat, appears five times in Book One of the novel, always in reference to Lily, starting on the first page – “Selden had never seen her more radiant.” – and not once in Book Two. Lily’s proves to be a dark or at least deeply paradoxical radiance, anticipating Horkheimer and Adorno’s remark that “the wholly enlightened earth is radiant [strahlt] with triumphant calamity.” Moreover, Wharton links Lily’s own abstraction of the earth, having “grown up without any one spot of earth being dearer to her than another,” to her ultimate loss of strength – not just “material poverty” but a “deeper empoverishment [sic]” and “inner destitution.” In this respect, Lily, like her doppelgänger Undine Spragg in The Custom of the Country, who marries, in turn, old-money New York, a French aristocrat, and an American capitalist, represents an emblematic break from Old World particu- larism to New World freedom, for better and mostly for worse. Undine, whose initials are U. S., takes a similar allegorical journey, though hers is char- acterized by “success” and Lily’s by “failure” – terms that Wharton is at great pains to interrogate. Failure has connotations of ugliness and impoverishment, but success can seem equally “squalid.” Whereas Lily fails to marry a rich man or to secure her economic future – yet arguably preserves her “real self” – the “conspicuous beauty” of Apex City weds a series of men, each wealthier than the last, culminating with the billionaire “Railroad King” Elmer Moffatt (to whom she had been briefly married in poorer days before the novel began). Yet she remains perpetually restless and dissatisfied, measur- ing success by “her power of making people do as she pleased.” She is an unvaryingly “radiant creature,” who reads about herself in the New York Radiator (the title is Wharton’s invention, but it is worth mention that the  Max Horkheimer and Theodor W. Adorno. Dialectic of Enlightenment: Philosophical Fragments, ed. Gunzelin Schmid Noerr., tr. Edmund Jephcott (Palo Alto: Stanford University Press, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Ibid., .  Wharton, Custom of the Country, . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core American Radiator Company was established in ). Her beauty is as vivid as “the brightness suffusing it.” One lover feels the “tempestuous heat of her beauty.” For Undine, no lights are too bright, no fire too hot, and “no radiance was too strong.” At the beginning of The House of Mirth, Selden’s gaze registers Lily as a nonhuman resource. At first she refreshes his eyes like a cool stream. Then, he imagines her aesthetically as a ceramic doll; “a fine glaze of beauty … had been applied to vulgar clay.” But he checks himself: “a coarse texture will not take a high finish.” In Lily, he feels certain, “the material was fine.” Selden’s quasi-Marxian meditation on the refining of Lily’s “material” (“ugly people must … have been sacrificed to produce her”), and how it is “brightened by art,” draws attention to the work of culture and the resources that fuel it, suggesting an analogy, developed later, that associates Lily with a cultivated landscape. The reification of Lily under the gaze of the male specu- lator (with connotations of romance and finance), the questions of value and costs of production, indicate the much-discussed theme of “conspicuous con- sumption” and Wharton’s debt to Thorstein Veblen’s  Theory of the Leisure Class, which details the “ancillary” role of women as both consumers and consumed in modern society. But questions of cost and value also point beyond the marriage market of high-society New York to a critique of instru- mental reason in a techno-utopian culture and a problem inherent in what recent ecocritics have called “resource aesthetics.” This curious coinage sounds like an oxymoron and points to contradictions in our ways of thinking about both resources and aesthetics. In a  special issue of the journal Postmodern Culture on Resource Aesthetics, the editors acknowledge the difficulty of defining their terms inde- pendently, let alone together. The juxtaposition generates immediate tensions: resources are functional, a reserve of materials or money, which can be con- verted into energy to perform work. People use resources to do things. Aesthetic experience, on the other hand, is often supposed to be disinterested, impractical, and irrational (there’s no accounting for taste). At least according to Kant, aesthetic pleasure does not involve the desire to do anything. So what do these words mean together? The editors’ introduction, “Toward a Theory of Resource Aesthetics,” is more suggestive than definitive: Resource aesthetics can be said to provoke the contradictions between the instrumen- tal and the beautiful, the literal and figurative, extraction and its representation, in a way that might return the question of visibility to a consideration of the material requirements of aesthetic production, while at the same time insisting on the aesthetics of resource extraction and the recognition of infrastructure as form. Or, to put that  Ibid., .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core another way, by thinking the figural iterations of resources and the literal face of aes- thetics, the aesthetics of resources alongside the aesthetic as resource. This passage is gestural, not programmatic. Yet, despite its vagueness and con- tradictions, the phrase “resource aesthetics” may help both to shed light on key problems in Wharton’s work (e.g. how to read her protagonists’ beauty as a resource to be used or cashed in) and to critique unexamined assumptions that have governed human relations to the material world, particularly in a New World, American context since the second half of the nineteenth century. It also points to an understanding of allegory not as a transparently coded system of signs but as a contentious negotiation between things and ideas. Allegory is not a simplistic illustrative technique or “figural iteration” but a mode of critique and site of tension between immanence and transcend- ence. Wharton’s economic–environmental allegory supplements her naturalis- tic plots; the psychosocial narrative level of Lily’s and Undine’s “stories” both signifies other levels of meaning and mixes with them. To treat a human being as a means, rather than an end in herself, is to render “a person of energy and resource” allegorical. Aesthetic objects, like Lily, who stands out from the “afternoon rush,” appear detached from the dense flux of quotidian material experience. Lily is a “figure” of the ideal, of “purity,” abstracted from the welter of the real: “Her vivid head, relieved against the dull tints of the crowd.” But, of course, Lily is part and product of her material reality, and Selden’s way of seeing her designates her as a site of inquiry into contradictions between the instrumental and the beautiful, concreteness and abstraction, resources and capital. I read The Custom of the Country as a mirror text of The House of Mirth. Undine Spragg’s socioeconomic ascent, powered by her remarkable energy, presents an inverted image of Lily’s depletion and decline. Reflecting on each other, the two novels suggest an ambivalent commentary on the culture of fossil fuels. Undine’s beauty is a mirror image of Lily’s; putting it to use, she is determined not to be dominated but to dominate. Early in The Custom of the Country she sees “at a glance that she did not know how to use her beauty” and sets about to rectify her lack of imagination. As she grows older Undine gives herself up “to the scientific cultivation of her beauty,” which she uses ultimately to arouse the “aesthetic emotions” of a bil- lionaire industrialist. So does their beauty offer, as Terry Eagleton suggests, “a vision of human energies as radical ends in themselves which is the implacable  Brent Ryan Bellamy, Michael O’Driscoll, and Mark Simpson, “Introduction: Toward a Theory of Resource Aesthetics,” Postmodern Culture, ,  (Jan. ), at https://muse. jhu.edu/article/, accessed  Feb. . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://muse.jhu.edu/article/635537 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/635537 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/635537 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core enemy of all dominative and instrumentalist thought,” or, as he also suggests, does it inscribe the body “with a subtly oppressive law”? The aesthete Selden both speaks of freedom and epitomizes oppression. He takes an impersonal yet “luxurious pleasure” in “the modelling of [Lily’s] little ear, the crisp upward wave of her hair – was it ever so slightly brightened by art?” Lily is drawn to him by her similar aesthetic education, her “instinctive resistances, of taste, of training” in dry formalism. Is Selden’s aesthetic detachment morally superior to the sexual desire Lily’s beauty excites in others? What is the best way to value beauty, and to what degree can it be termed a possession? These questions point to core themes in Wharton’s representation of a wasteful culture. Even to speak of aesthetics presumes a culture with a capacity for material waste. “If beauty or comfort is achieved,” Veblen wrote, “they must be achieved by means and methods that commend themselves to the great economic law of wasted effort.” Beauty, he suggests, is the product of “surplus energy.” Acknowledging his pleasure in “the decora- tive side of life,” Selden echoes Veblen and anticipates Eagleton’s assertion that the aesthetic is “a vision of human energies as radical ends in themselves,” lamenting “that so much human nature is used up in the process” of cultivat- ing beauty rather than used as a means toward social or personal betterment. Explaining his view that human beings are part of nature’s resources, he expresses conflicted impulses between instrumentalism and formalism: “If we’re all the raw stuff of the cosmic effects, one would rather be the fire that tempers a sword than the fish that dyes a purple cloak. And a society like ours wastes such good material in producing its little patch of purple!” Waste is a central trope in many of Wharton’s works. In The House of Mirth, Lily’s fate hinges on what she does with a letter taken from a “brimming” wastepaper basket, the detritus of a rival’s affair. She burns it. More important, she herself becomes a form of waste, “stranded in a great waste of disoccupation.” Lily’s beauty inspires diverse responses, from idealiza- tion to lust, that also characterize attitudes toward natural resources. Without balancing the conflicting impulses, appreciation and desire, formalism and instrumentalism, the rational pursuit of pleasure and actual sensuous enjoy- ment prove equally destructive forms of objectification. Starting with Selden catching sight of Lily, Wharton’s resource aesthetics center on acts of seeing, of being seen, and of occlusion. The optical and deeply gendered vocabulary that has shaped industrial America’s attitudes  Terry Eagleton, The Ideology of the Aesthetic (Oxford: Blackwell, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Ibid., .  Thorstein Veblen, The Theory of the Leisure Class (New York: Oxford University Press, ), .  Ibid., , .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core toward natural resources was largely formulated by Ralph Waldo Emerson in the decades prior to and including Wharton’s birth. As Emerson put it in his late lecture “Resources” (), “We like to see the inexhaustible riches of Nature, and the access of every soul to her magazines.” Wharton admired Emerson, but, in terms of resource aesthetics, Emerson provides an anatomy of masculine love and exploitation, of “husbanding” resources, to which she offers a corrective. For Emerson, there is an intrinsic delight in the “plastic power of the human eye.” Art, he explains, is the mixture of man’s will with the materials of nature. To regard nature as an artist is para- doxically to compel nature “to emancipate us.” With its aesthetic treatment of natural resources – from fire and wind to steam and coal – Nature theorizes a relationship between man and the creative energy of the earth that is purposive and harmonious but also forceful. Nature is “fluid, it is volatile, it is obedient.” Nature can be put to a variety of human uses; those of a lower order fall under the rubric “Commodity,” those of a higher order, “Beauty,” but the line between the two is fine and even permeable. “The influence of the forms and actions in nature,” according to Emerson, “seems to lie on the confines of commodity and beauty.” The value of natural resources depends on the male gaze and on distinction (“the difference between the observer and the spectacle, – between man and nature”), anticipating a key theme in The House of Mirth (e.g. Selden calls Lily “a wonderful spectacle”), and Emerson frames the relationship as a romance in an extended metaphor in the chapter “Beauty”: Nature stretcheth out her arms to embrace man, only let his thoughts be of equal greatness. Willingly does she follow his steps with the rose and the violet, and bend her lines of grandeur and grace … A virtuous man is in unison with her works, and makes the central figure of the visible sphere. In Selden, to whom Lily has “a kind of wild-wood grace … as though she were a captured dryad subdued to the conventions of the drawing-room,” Wharton critiques the exploitative, male-centered ideology implicit in Emerson’s Commodity–Beauty pairing, situating both uses of nature within the context of industrial capitalist accumulation. Ideally, for Emerson, “All the parts incessantly work into each other’s hands for the profit of man.  Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Resources,” in The Later Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson,  vols., ed. Ronald A. Bosco and Joel Myerson (Athens: University of Georgia Press, ), Volume II, –, .  The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson,  vols., ed. Ralph L. Rusk and Eleanor Tilton (New York: Columbia University Press, , –), Volume IV, .  Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature (), in Emerson, Essays and Lectures (New York: The Library of America, ), –.  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Wharton, House of Mirth, . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core The wind sows the seed; the sun evaporates the sea,” and so on; but the lan- guage of “profit” undoes idealism and harmony. The pleasures of the “trans- parent eyeball” tip easily into the opacity confronting a detached perspective, as The House of Mirth vividly illustrates. Selden’s thoughts fall far short of “greatness,” and his appreciation of Lily is only marginally more “virtuous” than that of her predatory admirers. An attitude of pleasurable speculation has characterized representations of New World resources from Columbus’s time to our own. To Emerson, the globe is a “great factory,” and, as few will deny, “this world belongs to the energetic.” Dominion of nature is inex- tricable from aesthetic appreciation. “Toward a Resource Aesthetic,” its authors suggest, designates “a matter of critical method, of interpretation.” We might describe such a methodology as a form of materialism that takes idealism as its subject. It aims to deconstruct the opposition between inner and outer nature and to critique technological activity that objectifies nature, whether in a formalist or an instrumentalist attitude of domination. Most important, it acknowledges an objective reality that is both outside human cognition and historically contingent. As Horkheimer and Adorno argue in Dialectic of Enlightenment, instrumental rationality is premised on a domination of nature and turning subjectivity to objective uses, which inev- itably leads to the destruction of humanity and the assimilation of all forms of culture into an industrial model: “anyone who resists can survive only by being incorporated.” This is precisely what Lily refuses to do and what Undine does in spades when she marries the president of the Apex Consolidation Company. Whether Undine, who is “fiercely independent and yet passionately imitative,” is beyond good and evil or has most fully internalized conventional morality, with its colonizing approach to material resources, remains open to question. Deeply versed in aesthetic theory, Wharton herself represents the aesthetic as a contradictory socioeconomic construction, one that is associated both with the highest form of subjectivity, an end in itself, and with a project that can challenge a prevailing capitalist ideology. Hermione Lee comments, for example, that Wharton’s early nonfiction – The Decoration of Houses () and Italian Villas and Their Gardens () – takes up “a complex cul- tural argument about America at the turn of the century. One of the key topics in this argument was the morality of taste, something that interested her very much.” Lily and Undine literally embody this complexity, as subjects and objects, as both creators of beauty and objets d’art themselves. Often described  Emerson, Nature, .  Emerson, “Resources,” .  Horkheimer and Adorno, Dialectic of Enlightenment, .  Wharton, Custom of the Country, .  Hermione Lee, Edith Wharton (London: Vintage, ), .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core by her friends as “the beautiful Miss Bart,” Lily herself is an aesthete (“how she loved beauty!”), with “an artistic sensibility which made her feel herself their superior.” Resources are extracted, abstracted, and ultimately, in their highest – or least instrumental – form, aestheticized. The beautiful Lily, who seems to epitomize the freedom and autonomy of the bourgeois subject, ends the novel in “the rubbish heap.” Far from being a Marxist, Selden is an enabler of, and parasite on, the capitalist order that produces and consumes her. Yet his reflections in the book’s opening pages raise questions about resources that, in Stephanie LeMenager’s terms, are often “hidden … in plain sight.” A “glaze of beauty” requires a kiln’s high heat, and it takes for granted a set of material forces and social relations. In short, Wharton’s figura- tive language of “resources” raises questions about the cost of “aesthetics.” Early in The House of Mirth, we are told that Lily’s “last asset” and only “raw material” is her beauty. Her friend Gerty Farish regards her loveliness as “a natural force,” while recognizing that Lily’s heedless use of her “power” must “despoil” others. Here too, the moral value of energy has a gendered dimension. Invariably positive when associated with men, the rhet- oric of “energy” is equivocal in describing women. Numerous female charac- ters in the book are intensely energetic. Lily sighs, for instance, “to think what her mother’s fierce energies would have accomplished” in advancing her marriage prospects, “had they been coupled with Mrs. Peniston’s resources.” Yet her horrible, resentment-driven mother is also characterized by her “crude passion for money,” while her aunt simply drains her: “there was a static force in Mrs. Peniston against which her niece’s efforts spent them- selves in vain.” Lily, we are told, “had abundant energy of her own, but it was restricted by the necessity of adapting herself to her aunt’s habits.” Edith Wharton herself was widely regarded by both contemporaries and later biogra- phers as a person of extraordinary energy, though the former were apt to regard energetic women, less sympathetically, as bossy and headstrong. In a letter to Henry James, Henry Adams referred to her “feminine energy,” and James himself was – or at least played at being – taken aback by her intensity. He called her an “Angel of Devastation” and, as if Wharton herself were a high-powered motor, spoke semi-humorously of the “iridescent track of her devastation.” R. W. B. Lewis comments on Wharton’s “almost unbelievable  Wharton, House of Mirth, . Others have discussed Lily as commodity; cf. Lois Tyson, “Beyond Morality: Lily Bart, Lawrence Selden and the Aesthetic Commodity in The House of Mirth,” Edith Wharton Review, ,  (Fall ), –.  Stephanie LeMenager, Living Oil: Petroleum Culture in the American Century (New York: Oxford University Press, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Ibid., .  Adams, Letters, Volume VI, ; Henry James, The Letters of Henry James,  vols., ed. Leon Edel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), Volume IV, . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core energy.” However, a late chapter of The Letters of Edith Wharton, which Lewis coedited, is entitled “The Costs of Energy,” a theme more deeply explored in Lee’s biography. The narrative arcs of numerous Wharton works chart a course from energy to depletion. At the end of The Age of Innocence, which is set in the s but concludes close to the date of publi- cation in , Newland Archer’s wife May waits for him, “radiating the fac- titious energy of one who has passed beyond fatigue.” Wharton herself continually oscillated between energy and exhaustion. “For a woman who was so often ill,” writes Lee, Wharton “showed phenomenal energy.” No one’s energy is limitless, though many in The House of Mirth suffer from this illusion. The word “energy” derives from the Greek energeia, which means activity or potentiality. For Aristotle, energy meant being awake. Ancient philosophers adapted Aristotle’s word energeia to describe energy in matter, as a kind of élan vital, and to denote vital qualities in individuals and societies. Energy as such is invisible; what we see are its effects in matter, from which we deduce a common definition of energy as capacity for work. Wharton uses the term this way, and for her there is always an economy of energy. In The Custom of the Country, the word appears mostly in relation to Undine’s old-New York husband, the weak and financially strapped Ralph Marvell, whose “partners were quick to profit by his sudden spurt of energy,” but who, worn down by “mechanical drudgery” and lacking the resources of (or demanded by) his ex-wife, kills himself. Lily’s limited resources are applied to the aesthetic work of cultivating her beauty (her key resource), but her cre- ativity is also constrained by concrete, local factors of which she often seems unaware. Lily’s tragedy is to incur a terrible debt for which she pays with her life, overdosing on a drug with which she hopes to still the “supernatural lucidity of her brain,” and going to sleep forever. The greater the expenditure of mechanical energy around her, the less her own internal resources. One of the problems in The House of Mirth, as in the broader culture, is that women seem a resource for use. Lily’s own, often unconscious, assumptions about life in the fast lane are material and moral. In the second chapter, on the train from New York to a country estate, she encounters the first of her über-rich suitors, Percy Gryce. The speeding train flings her into his arms, signifying the impact of modern, mechanized transportation on human relationships, including  Lewis, Edith Wharton, xii.  “The Costs of Energy: –,” in The Letters of Edith Wharton, ed. R. W. B. Lewis and Nancy Lewis (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, ), –.  Edith Wharton, The Age of Innocence () in Wharton, Novels (New York: The Library of America, ), –, .  Lee, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core courtship. Linking herself to the commodification of American ideals, she aims (unsuccessfully) to become “what his Americana had hitherto been: the one possession in which he took sufficient pride to spend money on it.” After struggling to generate conversation with the dull-witted young man – in Wharton’s words, “to set his simple machinery in motion” – Lily touches on this “last resource,” the topic of his Americana and the aestheticizing, or fetishizing, of America. Gryce reads reviews of American history solely in the hope of finding his own name, a form of narcissism that indicates a para- doxical liberation from particularity along with an oppressive logic of simplifi- cation and abstraction. The Gryce collection, of which he is excessively proud, is the largest, most valuable in the world, and it is the direct product of a mech- anical invention that Wharton deftly disparages for its hostility to the natural environment. Gryce’s father, Jefferson Gryce, had made a fortune “out of a patent device for excluding fresh air from hotels.” The first modern electrical air conditioning unit had actually been invented in . As Wharton com- ments in A Backward Glance, That I was born into a world in which telephones, motors, electric light, central heating (except by hot-air furnaces), X-rays, cinemas, radium, aeroplanes and wireless telegraphy were not only unknown but still mostly unforeseen, may seem the most striking difference between then and now; but the really vital change is that, in my youth, the Americans of the original States, who in moments of crisis still shaped the national point of view, were the heirs of an old tradition of European culture which the country has now totally rejected. However debatable Wharton’s assessment of European tradition vis-à-vis American novelty, The House of Mirth shows that these categories of change – the technological and the moral – are inextricable. The age was also that of the most energetic politician in American history. Republican President Theodore Roosevelt, whom Wharton remembers as “a friend” in A Backward Glance, was, in her words, “so alive at all points, and so gifted with the rare faculty of living intensely and entirely in every moment as it passed, that each of those encounters glows in me like a tiny morsel of radium.” Henry James described him as “a wonderful little machine: des- tined to be overstrained.” The nature writer John Boroughs compared him to an electric battery. One Senator called Roosevelt a “steam engine in trousers”; to another observer he was “a volcano of electricity.” In ,  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Wharton, A Backward Glance, –.  Ibid., .  Henry James, Selected Letters, ed. Leon Edel (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ),  Jan. , .  Francis E. Leupp, The Man Roosevelt: A Portrait Sketch (New York: D. Appleton & Company, ), . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core less than two weeks after his second inauguration, Wharton had dinner at the White House, seated at the President’s right hand. The energetic Roosevelt was not only the iconic but also the pivotal figure of America’s ramped up petro-culture. Hardly an enemy of big business, despite his trust-busting, Roosevelt began his presidency by resolving a labor dispute in the coal industry – then the primary source of energy in America, heating nearly every building in the urban Northeast – but he also contested prevailing assumptions about America’s unlimited resources, setting the terms for future debates. In his first address to Congress in December , he preached the conservation of resources, which became a major theme of his administration. At a meeting of the Society of American Foresters in March , he insisted that the primary object of his forest policy was not to preserve forests because they are beautiful though that is good in itself; not to preserve them because they are refuges for the wild creatures of the wilderness though that too is good in itself but the primary object of the forest policy as of the land policy of the United States, is the making of prosperous homes. He returned often in  to “home-making” as the principal justification of his policy for preserving “a steady and continuous supply of timber, grass, and above all water.” He spoke from “the standpoint … of the far-seeing citizen, who wishes to preserve and not to exhaust the resources of the country, who wishes to see those resources come into the hands not of a few men of great wealth, least of all into the hands of a few men who will speculate in them; but be distributed among many men.” Distinguishing between the beautiful and the sustainable, Roosevelt emphasized economy, touching on one of Wharton’s central themes, home-making, and acknowledging diverse interests that the idealistic Selden elides. Roosevelt attempted to balance energy and economy on the fulcrum of aesthetics in a conservation address at Stanford University in : “There is nothing more practical in the end than the pres- ervation of beauty, than the preservation of anything that appeals to the higher emotions in mankind.” Deploying aesthetics to promote resource conserva- tion, deconstructing the instrumentalist–formalist opposition, Roosevelt’s speech illustrates how aestheticizing resources could shape national policy. The proliferation of new technologies in Wharton’s world, as in her novel, functions metonymically, illuminating (figuratively and literally) characters’ successes and failures. When she reaches her friends’ estate at Bellomont,  See William R. Nester, The War for America’s Natural Resources, –, and  speeches, at www.theodore-roosevelt.com/images/research/txtspeeches/.txt; www.theodore-roose- velt.com/images/research/txtspeeches/.txt.  Theodore Roosevelt, “Remarks at Leland Stanford Jr. University,”  May , at www. presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=, accessed  July .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/images/research/txtspeeches/40.txt http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/images/research/txtspeeches/80.txt http://www.theodore-roosevelt.com/images/research/txtspeeches/80.txt http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=97726 http://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/ws/?pid=97726 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core Lily finds that electric light makes her appear “hollow and pale,” so she turns out the wall lights and peers at herself between candle flames instead, obliquely implicating the newer, mass-powered technology in her ill appearance. Late in the book, nearing her lowest point, Lily sinks down on a bench “in the glare of an electric street-lamp. The warmth of the fire had passed out of her veins … But her will-power seemed to have spent itself in a last great effort, and she was lost in the blank reaction which follows on an unwonted expenditure of energy.” The over-brightness of the inefficient incandescent bulbs, first installed along Broadway between Fourteenth and Twenty-Sixth Streets in , and lit after  by Edison’s power station, is inversely related to Lily’s depletion. According to Edison, a reporter for the New York Times remarked in , the lights “will go on forever unless stopped by an earth- quake.” Lily has no such luck. One hundred years later, concerns about vast power grids prompted the US Energy Policy Act of . However, by , even Edison had begun to recognize the excessive power demands of built environments and to seek ways to supplement fossil fuels with renewables such as wind. Edison and Ford also developed an electric car, and the story of how gas- oline-powered motors ultimately – but not inevitably – pushed electric vehi- cles out of the market is a crucial subtext of Wharton’s work, in which both gasoline and electric-powered cars appear. A  New York Times article on the National Automobile Show at Madison Square Garden claims that women in particular went to examine the four makes of electric vehicles on display. “Small electric runabouts” were popular with women, according to the Times, because “early gasoline cars required more strength to crank than most women possessed. Another great advantage of the electric in years gone by was their quiet operation, in comparison with gasoline cars, and this fact alone was responsible for their widespread use by women.” Wharton, who loved “motors,” might have disputed the assumption about women’s strength, but she appreciated the capacity of cars, whether electric- or gasoline-powered, to play a role in women’s liberation – at least for those of means. The freedom, in time and space, that cars enabled, however, also involved acceptance of and submission to a socioeconomic regime that not only takes infinite energy for granted but also ignores hidden costs. The dust alone from cars, not to mention the exhaust, had a major impact on  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  “Electric Cars Attract Attention,” New York Times,  Jan. , accessed  June , at http:// query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf? res=EDAEACACDCF; https://energy.gov/articles/history- electric-car. Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9406E4DA1331E233A25753C2A9679C946096D6CF http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9406E4DA1331E233A25753C2A9679C946096D6CF http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9406E4DA1331E233A25753C2A9679C946096D6CF http://query.nytimes.com/mem/archive-free/pdf?res=9406E4DA1331E233A25753C2A9679C946096D6CF https://energy.gov/articles/history-electric-car https://energy.gov/articles/history-electric-car https://energy.gov/articles/history-electric-car https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core rural roads in particular; in Stephen Kern’s words, they “engulfed pedestrians and cyclists and ruined the crop of lettuce farmers.” Electric cars quickly became popular with both sexes, not only for running more easily and quietly but also because they did not spew exhaust. In  Ferdinand Porsche invented the world’s first hybrid electric car. Electric cars made up roughly a third of the auto market at the turn of the century, and a fleet of electric taxis served New York City. Wharton’s story “The Touchstone” refers offhandedly to the ubiquity and reliability of electric taxis. In , a group of wealthy investors, led by August Belmont (a model for Gus Trenor, the owner of Bellomont in The House of Mirth), execu- tives from Standard Oil, and Edison’s personal secretary Samuel Insull, founded the Woods Motor Vehicle Company to produce electric cars. Charging stations also evolved in the first decade of the twentieth century to meet demand, and readers can find a model in Mrs. Norma Hatch’s electric victoria in The House of Mirth. By the s, however, electric cars had been driven off the road by Ford’s introduction of mass production of the Model T in , which made gasoline-powered cars more affordable and quicker to market. Another determinant was the exponential increase of Texas crude oil production in the decades following discovery of the “Spindletop gusher” and development of America’s first major oil field in . The profit-maximizing logic of private enterprise and the lack of public awareness, let alone laws, to restrict pollution or set limits on the exploitation of natural resources simply deferred clear thinking about an energy crisis that some, such as Edison and Roosevelt, already anticipated. Economics rather than environmentalism largely shaped early conversation about conservation of resources. In , industrialist and railroad man James J. Hill gave a speech at the White House entitled “The Natural Wealth of the Land and Its Conservation” at the first Conference on the Conservation of National Resources. Following Roosevelt’s lead, Hill framed it as a problem of economic waste: “For the first time there is a national protest, under seal of highest authority, against economic waste.” Without directly critiquing the fossil-fuel economy, Wharton’s allegorical treatment of Lily Bart nonethe- less anticipates the notion of externalities or consequences of industrial activ- ities that affect outside parties but are not reflected in the cost of production.  Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space: – (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), .  Heather Rogers, “Current Thinking,” New York Times Magazine,  June , at www. nytimes.com////magazine/wwln-essay-t.html, accessed  Feb. .  “The Natural Wealth of the Land and Its Conservation,” address delivered by Mr. James J. Hill, White House, Washington, at the Conference on the Conservation of National Resources, – May , at https://archive.org/details/naturalwealthoflhilluoft.  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/03/magazine/03wwln-essay-t.html http://www.nytimes.com/2007/06/03/magazine/03wwln-essay-t.html https://archive.org/details/naturalwealthofl00hilluoft https://archive.org/details/naturalwealthofl00hilluoft https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core Lily cannot survive a techno-modernity that whizzes like an express train “with a deafening rattle and roar,” and in which, as British welfare economist Arthur Pigou wrote, “costs are thrown upon people not directly concerned, through, say, uncompensated damage done to surrounding woods by sparks from railway engines.” The irony is that Lily has ignored those sacrificed “in some mysterious way” for her benefit, yet she becomes the emblematic victim of an economy from which she unconsciously profits. Lily personifies the concept of externalities or nonmonetary “spillover” effects – costs not taken into account or paid for by those who cause the damage. This concept has become central to environmental economics, and Lily’s demise instantiates her society’s nonmonetary impacts. For instance, her feeling of moral defilement is figured as nature polluted: “Everything in the past seemed simple, natural, full of daylight – and she was alone in a place of dark- ness and pollution.” As Gryce’s narcissism is emblematic of the anthropo- centric “machinery” of the broader culture, Ford could truly find his name anywhere, thanks to his abstraction of America’s resources, linking the assem- bly line (abstraction of labor) to the fossil-fueled economy’s preeminent symbol of abstraction: the Model T. Lily Bart’s final, failed attempt to make a living for herself happens on an assembly line in a millinery establishment. New forms of energy use, from gas ovens to electric lights, define key moments of Lily’s decline. Excessive energy consumption metaphorically initi- ates her death scene: “It was as though a great blaze of electric light had been turned on in her head, and her poor little anguished self shrank and cowered in it.” Yet the scene in which Lily is most explicitly identified with an American landscape (despite her lack of “real intimacy with nature”) occurs with Selden on the hilly estate of Bellomont in the Hudson Valley. There she seems part of the “harmony of things.” She projects herself onto the landscape, or abstracts it to fit her mood: “The landscape outspread below her seemed an enlargement of her present mood, and she found something of herself in its calmness, its breadth, its long free reaches.” The romantic pair has a momentary experi- ence of freedom and expanded horizons that leads to a philosophical dialogue. How would Selden define “success,” she asks? Success means “personal freedom,” he explains, “from everything – from money, from poverty, from ease and anxiety, from all the material accidents. To keep a kind of republic of the spirit.” Wharton punctuates this famous “republic-of-the-spirit” con- versation with the appearance of a machine in the garden, a motor, “like the  Wharton, House of Mirth, ; Arthur Cecil Pigou, The Economics of Welfare (London: MacMillan and Company, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core hum of a gigantic insect.” The appearance of the motor does not simply intro- duce the counterforce of history and materialism into a pastoral idyll. In  the car, unlike the train that Lily takes to get to Bellomont, represents a radi- cally new technology untethered to schedule or track. The motor is a metaphor for “material accident,” which ironizes the ineffectual Selden’s theorizing of absolute freedom with, in Lily’s view, an unwonted “energy of affirmation.” However, Selden is not merely ineffectual and blind to the irony of his ideal- ism; he also represents a profoundly destructive attitude. As Jonathan Joseph Wlasiuk shows in his  dissertation “Refining Nature: Standard Oil and the Limits of Efficiency, –,” American republican ideology was reim- agined in the Gilded Age to equate political freedom with laissez-faire econom- ics, with significant ramifications for Americans’ relationship with the material world. The Standard Oil Company, he convincingly argues, owed its success to this altered republican ideology and the legal regime that enabled the rise of the corporation and despoliation of the environment. The lawyer, Selden, epito- mizes this attitude in his republic-of-the-spirit speech, a republic Lily insight- fully critiques as a “closed corporation.” As Alan Trachtenberg points out in The Incorporation of America, “the rhetoric of success continued to hail the self-made man as the paragon of free labor, even as the virtues of that fictive character grew less and less relevant. Thus, incorporation engendered a cultural paradox.” Rockefeller, who incorporated Standard Oil in , brooked no competition. He recognized the duplicity of the rhetoric Selden uses, saying, “The day of combination is here to stay. Individualism has gone never to return.” Nonetheless, like Selden, Rockefeller nominally embraced the republican rhetoric of self-discipline and positive thinking. Success, a magazine founded by Orison Swett Marsden in , promulgated a will-to-success phil- osophy that represented success in the acquisition of wealth and power as a virtue in itself. When McClure’s began exposing Standard Oil’s unfair business practices, Success published “An Impartial Study of John D. Rockefeller” ( July ). The principal goal of Rockefeller’s ruthless drive toward organization and efficiency was the elimination of what Selden calls “material accident.” Contemporaneous with The House of Mirth, Ida Tarbell’s best-selling History of Standard Oil, which had been serialized in McClure’s Magazine from  to , while ignoring the corporation’s massive and devastating impact on the environment, established it as the model of twentieth-century corporate practice, vertical integration, and apparent elimination of produc- tion costs, through actual disguising or downloading of those costs to the  Ibid., .  Alan Trachtenberg, The Incorporation of America: Culture and Society in the Gilded Age (New York: Hill and Wang, ), .  Ibid., .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core public. It also inspired Roosevelt to bust Rockefeller’s trust following passage of the Hepburn Act (), which asserted the federal government’s right to regulate interstate commerce. Defining “success” in a way that reflects ironic- ally on Selden’s republican idealism, Tarbell cites an  report of the Cleveland Board of Trade: “Each year has seen greater consolidation of capital, greater energy and success in prosecuting the business, and, notwith- standing some disastrous fires, a stronger determination to establish an immov- able reputation for the quantity and quality of this most important product.” Yet Tarbell’s downplaying of environmental costs, such as “disastrous forest fires,” also highlights the problem of ignoring such externalities. Many Clevelanders complained of extremely damaging impacts to their health and environment of Standard Oil’s practices (well beyond “some disastrous fires”). One composed a poem entitled “Song of the Sick Water-Nymph,” which indicates hidden costs of corporate success: Faugh! What a smell! How can I be well? Stinking again, Small pipe and main, Even large reservoir Yields to its power! … Petroleum, slaughter-house gore, To say nothing of acid Sulphuric, and how many more In our waters placid … In The House of Mirth, nymphs cavort across a flower-strewn sward in tableaux vivants funded by the stock-market killings of the Wellington Brys. Lily herself appears, in a coup de théâtre, as the neoclassical title figure in Joshua Reynolds’s  painting Mrs. Lloyd Carving Her Husband’s Name on the Trunk of a Tree. It is a moment of triumph. In that pose she inflames the hardly disinter- ested male gaze of lovers and lechers alike; she seems “the real Lily Bart, divested of the trivialities of her little world, and catching for a moment a note of that eternal harmony of which her beauty was a part.” Spectators, including Selden, are stunned by her performance of decorative, idealized womanhood. No one can tell where nature ends and artifice begins, for the “real Lily” seamlessly combines “flesh and blood” with “artistic intelligence.” She appears to be in “harmony” with a pastoral landscape, staged in a marble  Ida Tarbell, The History of Standard Oil (New York: McClure, Phillips, and Co. ), .  Quoted in Jonathan Joseph Wlasiuk, “Refining Nature: Standard Oil and the Limits of Efficiency, –,” dissertation, Case Western Reserve, , .  Wharton, House of Mirth, . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core mansion on Fifth Avenue. But Lily has commodified herself, trading her sup- posedly natural resources too cheaply on the sexual market of New York’s beau monde (to the extent that Gus Trenor treats her like a high-priced courtesan). In the end, more like the sick water nymphs of Cleveland than the most famous instance of idealized womanhood in New York, the Statue of Liberty, floral Lily will be crushed by a hidden debt she unwittingly incurs. Her own resources prove nonrenewable. The rise of John D. Rockefeller’s Standard Oil, Edison’s power grid, and the energy required to power them, haunt the novel and shape Lily’s demise. One critic has gone so far as to suggest that floral imagery in the novel was planted in Wharton’s mind by John D. Rockefeller Jr.’s notorious  speech, “The American Beauty Rose,” in which he asserted, The American beauty rose can be produced in the splendor and fragrance which bring cheer to its beholder only by sacrificing the early buds which grow up around it. This is not an evil tendency in business. It is merely the working out of a law of nature and a law of God. Whether or not she had read Rockefeller’s well-known speech or the extensive commentary it engendered, Wharton deploys a similar Darwinian logic and imagery in her novel with a far less salubrious outcome. Lily “had been fash- ioned to adorn and delight; to what other end does nature round the rose-leaf and paint the humming-bird’s breast?” It will surprise no one that late nine- teenth-century republican ideology privileged material wealth over environ- mental health, yet Wharton exposes the hypocrisy – or at least the blind spot – behind Selden’s idealistic rhetoric of emancipation. Lily is not free, but Selden is also far more circumscribed than he imagines. The goal of cor- porate leaders such as John D. Rockefeller Sr. was to free not individuals but corporations not only from government regulation but also from the limits of nature. As the chief counsel of Standard Oil, S. C. T. Dodd, said in , capital would make “all nature subservient to the human race” Corporations such as Standard Oil convert nature into commodities. Selden regards Lily with a similarly reifying gaze, but Lily herself understands nature only in terms of use-value, as, for instance, “a scene which was the fitting back- ground of her own sensations.” Tarbell, whose father had been an independ- ent oil producer and refiner in Titusville, Pennsylvania, driven out of business and into debt by Standard Oil, exposed the unfairness of Rockefeller’s highly efficient, monopolistic business practices. Tarbell hated privilege and loved nature (and originally planned to become a biologist), yet she discovered, as  Robert McIlvaine, “Edith Wharton’s American Beauty Rose,” Journal of American Studies, ,  (Aug. ), –, .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Quoted in Wlasiuk, “Refining Nature,” .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core she put it, that there was “a science of society as well as of botany.” Though concerned about the exploitation of the earth’s resources, she saw it as a socio- economic, rather than an environmental, problem, concluding that “a trilogy of wrongs” had produced gross inequities: “discriminatory transportation rates, tariffs save for revenue only, and private ownership of natural resources.” As Wlasiuk comments, however, “Standard Oil’s ‘structural power’ issued not only from the corporation’s influence in the political and economic context, but also from its dominion over nature, the source of all wealth.” Lily Bart dramatizes the externalities or hidden costs of such domin- ion. Another wealthy suitor tells Lily, in making his marriage proposal, “I should want my wife to be able to take the earth for granted if she wanted to.” Such is the attitude of Standard Oil, which idealized the earth as avail- able for what appeared the most efficient human use, without accounting for environmental costs. Property lines are not visible in the “pastoral distances.” But the republic-of-the-spirit chapter implies that to take the earth for granted is a problem. It takes the war against matter into the idealized landscape; “freedom” comes from the rational subjugation of nature, or aesthetic sublim- ation of the sensual. Analogously, there must be a steep cost for Lily to give herself away. The difference between pastoral heights, where lovers fantasize like children, and the “actual world” where motors appear, suggests ways in which mechanical energy converts itself into thought, or can seem at odds with serious thinking. Later, after falling from grace, Lily attaches herself to the nouveaux riches, “as carelessly as a passenger is gathered in by an express train.” Wharton frames Lily’s demise explicitly as a tragedy, with frequent references to the Greeks, but Lily does not have a moment of anagnorisis. She is simply “exhausted” in the end, and, most telling, she yearns “for that other luxurious world, whose machinery is so carefully concealed that one scene flows into another without perceptible agency.” Lily’s failure, however, is the author’s opportunity. Wharton’s subject is precisely the difficulty of making agency perceptible. Where does energy come from? What effects does it produce? If, according to the first principle of thermodynamics, energy can be neither created nor destroyed, where does it go when work is performed or action completed? Energy can change forms, and, as the metaphors of hidden machinery and imperceptible agency imply, it can flow from one place to another. Wharton does not pretend to be a physicist or to intervene in questions of  Robert C. Kochersberger Jr., ed., More Than a Muckraker: Ida Tarbell’s Lifetime Journalism (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, ), xlvi.  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Ibid., . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core science and engineering, but her narrative reflects a new, modern reality shaped by massive, invisible forces. She does not offer the technical or formal innova- tions of modernism – her fiction retains a sequential structure and omniscient narrator – but The House of Mirth highlights what is occluded in the total visi- bility to which the conventional nineteenth-century novel aspired. From its opening in Grand Central Station, with Selden’s “surprise” at the sight of Lily, to its conclusion at her deathbed, when the bewildered Selden “felt that the real Lily was still there, close to him, yet invisible and inaccessible,” the novel focusses on the limitations of individual points of view. The term “energy” signifies change, but it is often associated with metaphysics. As Canadian scientist Vaclav Smil puts it, “Energy is not a single, easily definable entity, but rather an abstract collective concept, adopted by nine- teenth-century physicists to cover a variety of natural and anthropogenic … phenomena.” We recognize energy in heat, motion, and light, but we also use energy in simply thinking about it. Wharton extrapolates from the work of mechanics, applying it to any process that produces a change within an affected system. Concealment of power sources – the invisibility of energy, yet its vital importance – indicates a central problem for characters in a novel, a genre pre- mised on novelty and on realism. The House of Mirth turns on a duality of high and occluded visibility. “Brilliant young ladies, a little blinded by their own effulgence,” the omniscient narrator remarks, “are apt to forget that the modest satellite drowned in their light is still performing its own revolutions and generating heat at its own rate.” The social blindness of young ladies, refracted here through metaphors of light and heat, and the resources that gen- erate these effects, speak to a broader set of assumptions. Henry Adams also recognized in new electric generators a kind of numinous, mysterious power analogous to the cult of the Virgin in medieval Europe, a theory he develops in “The Dynamo and the Virgin,” the most famous chapter of The Education of Henry Adams. Awestruck at the Paris Exposition of , Adams found in the dynamo a symbol of infinity. As he grew accustomed to the great gallery of machines, the historian “began to feel the forty-foot dynamos as a moral force, much as the early Christians felt the Cross.” One might experience the chill produced by an air conditioner or the heat produced by an electric furnace, but energy, the cause of the effect, was “imperceptible to the senses.” For Adams, new forms of energy posed a problem for the historian or any teller of stories, akin to the one Wharton describes when “machinery is so carefully concealed that one scene flows into another without perceptible agency.” Thus, Adams  Vaclav Smil, Energy: A Beginner’s Guide (London: Oneworld, ), .  Wharton, House of Mirth, .  Adams, Education, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core “found himself lying in the Gallery of Machines at the great Exposition of , his historical neck broken by the sudden irruption of forces totally new.” Wharton relates “forces totally new” to social change and an evolving worldview. Take the social significance of natural gas in her novels. For much of the nineteenth century, natural gas was used as a source of light (the first well was dug in ), but it was difficult to transport without pipelines, which only began to be constructed in a major way in the s, when gas was already giving way to electric lighting. So, here too paying atten- tion to an energy resource in the novel can illuminate aspects of ideology. For instance, at the turn of the century the mansion of Mrs. Peniston is still lit by gas rather than electricity, one sign of her unproductive conservatism. The domestication and aestheticizing of electricity had been promoted among wealthy New Yorkers since the s. Alice Gordon’s  book Decorative Electricity, for instance, “showed well-to-do ladies how to transform their homes into elegant apotheoses of indirect and romantically installed illumin- ation.” The first explicit reference to Miss Peniston’s gaslight appears in a scene that literally sheds light on a worker to whom Lily has been all but blind, the charwoman, Mrs. Hansen, who comes to bribe her with a letter found in Selden’s garbage: “The glare of the unshaded gas shone familiarly on her pock-marked face.” Lily purchases the letter and returns to her room, where she “immediately turned up the gas-jet and glanced toward the grate.” She had planned to burn the letter, thinking of Selden’s reputation, but she does not, regarding it too as a potential resource of her own rehabili- tation. The point is not that turning on the gas is a problem or wasteful but that attention must be paid to both the literal and figurative “machinery” that has been so carefully concealed. Forms of energy, like personal resources, may not be perceptible, but the reader and characters can extrapolate from their effects. When, in the end, Lily is beyond hope, alone beneath the white glare of an electric streetlamp, she is discovered by a young woman her charity had helped, a survivor now married to a “motor-man.” Lily allows herself to be taken to the young woman’s apartment, which proves a momentary refuge. There, natural gas proves a comfort, an escape from the harsh electric lighting of the urban jungle. As historian of science Graeme Gooday comments, “Much of the early cultural anxiety about electricity centered on the female body, specifically threats to its physical safety and aesthetic appearance.” This single gas jet  Ibid., .  Graeme Gooday, Domesticating Electricity: Technology, Uncertainty and Gender, – (London: Pickering & Chatto, ), .  Ibid., . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core implies nostalgia for the home Lily has lost, along with the “making of pros- perous homes” central to Roosevelt’s logic of prudent resource use. “Nettie Struther’s match” makes “a flame leap from the gas-jet above the table,” revealing the kitchen to Lily “as extraordinarily small and almost miraculously clean.” Nettie’s domestication of energy, channeling in the home the product of forces that had left Henry Adams in awe, reflects her own socioeconomic progress and that of American culture, even as it signals the homeless Lily’s demise. Between  and , global energy use exploded, driven by demand for fossil fuels. In these years consumption of coal, petroleum and natural gas in America more than doubled. In , the Supreme Court ruled that Standard Oil was an illegal monopoly and ordered it to be broken into many smaller companies (the biggest of which became Exxon), which fueled competition and, with production of the Model T, accelerated use. This indus- trial history is immediate background for The Custom of the Country, which is full of the language of monopoly in business and in love (e.g. “There was nothing of the monopolist about Mabel, and she lost no time in making Undine free of the Stentorian group and its affiliated branches”). Wharton’s novel of comparative customs, economies, and cultural norms centers on Undine Spragg’s energy and her insatiable appetite for resources. Her father’s fortune is built on the exploitation of natural resources (and on the invention of a hair-waver for which Undine, whose name means “wave,” was named). The Spraggs’ first two children died from contaminated water, which prompted her father to develop a “pure water” reservoir, along with a power station at the Apex Water-Works; this development in turn enabled him to capitalize on real estate in Apex (a fully capitalized City upon a Hill) before moving to New York to enhance his daughter’s social chances, as mining interests and railroads take over Apex, leading to the mon- opolistic Apex Consolidation Company. Unlike her father, who grows increas- ingly weary, Undine never stops moving; she is the embodiment of the new fossil-fuel economy. “Custom” is organized around particular energy resources, and her desires illuminate the society’s energy unconscious. For example, she is disappointed at her first dinner party among old-money New York by the way in which it is lit and heated: “instead of a gas-log, or a polished grate with elec- tric bulbs behind ruby glass, there was an old-fashioned wood-fire.” Undine’s beauty is the mirror image of Lily’s, but her career is the inverse. Unlike Lily,  Independent Statistical Analysis, US Energy Information Administration, at www.eia.gov/ totalenergy/data/annual/showtext.php?t=ptb; World Energy Consumption since  in Charts, https://ourfiniteworld.com////world-energy-consumption- since--in-charts, accessed  July .  Wharton, Custom of the Country, .  Ibid., .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.eia.gov/totalenergy/data/annual/showtext.php?t=ptb1601 http://www.eia.gov/totalenergy/data/annual/showtext.php?t=ptb1601 https://ourfiniteworld.com/2012/03/12/world-energy-consumption-since-1820-in-charts https://ourfiniteworld.com/2012/03/12/world-energy-consumption-since-1820-in-charts https://ourfiniteworld.com/2012/03/12/world-energy-consumption-since-1820-in-charts https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core who can seem at harmony within a pastoral landscape, Undine, sitting under the wisteria in Central Park, is conscious of “blazing out from it inconveni- ently.” If Lily is the virgin, Undine is the dynamo. Undine is as inexhaustible as an energizer bunny, consuming anyone and anything that lies in her path, starting with the “desultory” Ralph Marvell, who was raised for a life of “cultivated inaction.” Unfit for the modern world, he is (more like Lily) an object of conspicuous consumption for the par- venue. In Ralph’s family, “material resources were limited on both sides of the house, but there would always be enough for his frugal wants.” Ralph is like a run-down motor, and “when he came home at night the tank was empty” The application of the empty-tank metaphor to a human being indicates the degree to which fossil fuels alter the very conception of humanity. Using up one husband, his wife, whose parents wonder “whence Undine derived her overflowing activity,” simply turns to another. Undine is the resourceful character par excellence; a “monstrously perfect result of the system.” Like Lily, her beauty is her principal power source, and she capita- lizes on it with a vengeance, cashing in for marriage after marriage after mar- riage – a pursuit of happiness that privileges pursuit over happiness and promises to go on after the novel’s final line, which gestures at “something that neither beauty nor influence nor millions could ever buy for her.” After the divorce, Ralph recalls her beauty “no longer as an element of his being but as a power dispassionately estimated.” At the thought of their mar- riage, one friend recognizes that “poor Ralph was a survival” of the pre- industrial age, “and destined, as such, to go down in any conflict with the rising forces.” While Lily Bart had the idealistic slogan “BEYOND” printed on her stationery, The Custom of the Country shows that nothing is beyond Undine. Incapable of economy, Undine moves to Paris, back to New York, to Paris again, to Reno (for a divorce), and so on. She bears Ralph’s son, is distracted by every novelty, spends a fortune (largely her father’s), and turns to other men. Undine refuses to be bothered by what Selden called “material accident,” but she is hardly what he had in mind as a success. For her, freedom (such as it is) requires the massive unleashing of the productive powers of capitalism, not an aesthetic transfiguration of material life but an occlusion of its unregeneracy: “Her senses luxuriated in all its material details: the thronging motors, the bril- liant shops … The noise, the crowd, the promiscuity beneath her eyes symbo- lized the glare and movement of her life.” Mechanical energy has been converted to thought. The proliferation of technology has altered the life of  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core the spirit. Ubiquitous motors are among its vehicles: “as the motor flew on through the icy twilight, her present cares flew with it.” Nothing raises Undine’s spirits better than a daily drive in a motor, which is literally what the doctor orders when material cares assail her. After Ralph commits suicide, Undine marries the Marquis Raymond de Chelles, but finds herself unhappily torn between the city of light, specifically the Nouveau Luxe fre- quented by international high flyers, and his rural estate, pointedly named Saint Désert, to which Undine finds herself largely confined. She chafes under “considerations of economy,” as her aristocratic husband applies scien- tific principles of forestry and agriculture in the hope of turning a profit, while his feckless younger brother, to Undine’s dismay, gets to renovate the piping, heating, and illumination of their Parisian hôtel. At the chateau Undine per- sonifies gratuitous energy consumption that refuses to be checked, finding sat- isfaction in “having fires lit in both monumental chimneys” solely to provoke the elderly marquise: “Never before in the history of Saint Désert had the con- sumption of fire-wood exceeded a certain carefully-calculated measure; but since Undine had been in authority this allowance had been doubled.” Refusing to be constrained, Undine epitomizes many “customs” that Wharton loathed, but the recently divorced author also clearly admires her energy and even identifies with her, giving Undine her own nickname, “Puss.” Finally, Undine marries the “Railroad King,” and her divorce is “rail- roaded” through the courts, literally and figuratively, as judge and happy couple hastily board Moffatt’s special together. That Undine leaves Chelles and weds Moffatt, who with the success of the Apex Consolidation scheme now owns all of Apex, allegorizes not only the incorporation of America but also the marriage of resources and aesthetics. Moffatt is an aesthete as well as industrialist, and Undine’s beauty satisfies his sensuality. She yields to his will, as (in Emerson) the earth does to the plastic eye, and “her energies revived like plants in water.” Wharton was not a critic of the new fossil-fuel economy, though elements of critique appear in her work. Ambivalent, she gave voice to the fascination and pleasures of energy innovations and alarm at their consequences. In a  letter she expressed wonder at getting out of her “motor” in Paris and looking up into the air to see an aeroplane, high up against the sky … And it was the Comte de Lambert in a Wright bi-plane, who had just flown across from Juvisy – and it was the first time that an aero- plane has ever crossed this great city!! Think “what soul was mine” – and what a setting in which to see one’s first aeroplane flight!  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Ibid., .  Letters of Edith Wharton, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core Wharton shared in the exhilaration of the petro-culture of speed and power, and her nostalgia for the slower, horse-drawn New York of her youth is shaped by the realization that it is irretrievable. In her autobiography, however, she speaks of the “growing sense of the waste and loss” during World War I con- nected to new uses of aeroplanes in battle, which explained, in part, why she turned to the world of her childhood (the s) in The Age of Innocence. To Sara Norton, the recipient of the letter enthusing about the Wright biplane, she writes of the “turmoil and mediocrity of today.” Yet her ambivalence about new forms of energy and the social changes they cause shapes her work’s form and themes. Above – or beneath – all, Wharton recognized what to others had been hidden in plain sight, that energy is the inescapable condition and context for all forms of culture. The transatlantic steamer in Custom is the Semantic, suggesting a relationship between modern transportation technology and the construction of meaning. Wharton and Henry James playfully named her cars after authors (George Sand and Alfred de Musset). From its opening, when the sight of Lily in Grand Central Station refreshes Selden’s eyes, to the moment Lily blows out her final candle, The House of Mirth reflects on the human and natural resources fueling culture. The same is true of the luminous, throbbing, motorized world that charges Undine Spragg’s adventures and of her refusal to be limited by “considerations of economy.” Appearing almost precisely between publication of The House of Mirth and The Custom of the Country, F. T. Marinetti’s “Manifesto of Futurism” opened with an exhort- ation to sing “l’abitudine all’energia” (the habit of energy), to exalt “l’insonnia febbrile” (feverish insomnia, which is what dooms Lily), and “violente lune elettriche” (violent electric moons); he urged artists to celebrate the man at the wheel, the obliteration of Time and Space, to glorify smoking factories, the speed of automobiles, locomotives, and aeroplanes. “Young and strong” futurists, he declared, wanted no part of the past, and in this respect they sound like earlier Americans, from Franklin to Emerson and Whitman. Though she loved Emerson and, especially, Whitman, Wharton was not of Marinetti’s vanguard; she was a conservative, at least in manners and literary style. Like Henry Adams, her feet were planted in an earlier century. Yet, like Adams too (who called himself a “conservative anarchist”), Wharton’s dismay at the rapidity of change made her a careful student of it, and there is no escap- ing – in both Adams and Wharton – an appreciation of what it took to succeed in the high-energy culture. And Wharton did succeed. After ,  Wharton, A Backward Glance, –.  Quoted in Lewis, Edith Wharton, .  F. T. Marinetti, “Fondazione e Manifesto del futurismo,” at www.gutenberg.org/files/ /-h/-h.htm, accessed  July . Edith Wharton’s Resource Aesthetics  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28144/28144-h/28144-h.htm http://www.gutenberg.org/files/28144/28144-h/28144-h.htm https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core thanks in part to royalties from the book, Wharton purchased increasingly elaborate vehicles for “motor-flights” in New England and France. Her  travelogue, A Motor-Flight through France, opens complacently, “The motor-car has restored the romance of travel.” Henry James, who loved these rides, gushed to his brother William, “I greatly enjoyed the whole Lenox countryside, seeing it as I did by the aid of the Whartons’ strong com- modious new motor, which has fairly converted me to the sense of all the thing may do for one and one may get from it.” To Wharton, he wrote of The House of Mirth, “I wish we could talk of it in a motor-car.” AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY Alan Ackerman is a Professor of English at the University of Toronto. His books include Just Words: Lillian Hellman, Mary McCarthy, and the Failure of Public Conversation in America (), Seeing Things, from Shakespeare to Pixar (), and The Portable Theater: American Literature and the Nineteenth-Century Stage ().  Edith Wharton, A Motor-Flight through France (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, ; first published ), .  James, Letters of Henry James, Volume IV, .  Alan Ackerman terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875818000506 https://www.cambridge.org/core Edith Wharton's Resource Aesthetics and the Dawn of the American Energy Crisis 
work_afchrvn77bdutccynvag7j4swa	----	_ 3759 INTRODUCTION Animals with an intermittent ventilatory pattern normally increase pulmonary blood flow (Qpul) and heart rate (fH) during the brief periods of lung ventilation, providing a temporal matching of perfusion and ventilation of the lungs that may improve gas exchange efficacy (e.g. Johansen et al., 1970; Shelton, 1970; Shelton and Burggren, 1976; Lillywhite and Donald, 1989; Wang and Hicks, 1996) (cf. Hopkins et al., 1996). In animals with central vascular shunts, the rise in Qpul during ventilation is associated with the development of a left-to-right (L–R) cardiac shunt (pulmonary recirculation of oxygenated blood returning from the lungs) whereas a large net right-to-left (R–L) shunt (pulmonary bypass) predominates during apnoea. These hemodynamic changes are particularly evident in freshwater turtles (Shelton and Burggren, 1976; White et al., 1989; Wang and Hicks, 1996). The physiological consequences of cardiac shunts on pulmonary gas exchange are not clear (Burggren, 1987; Hicks and Wang, 1996). R–L shunts lower arterial oxygen content because of the venous admixture and the resulting decrease in systemic oxygen delivery has been suggested to induce hypometabolism (Hicks and Wang, 1999; Platzack and Hicks, 2001). Such a reduction in oxygen requirement could be an important mechanism for extending aerobic dive durations but remains to be demonstrated in recovered and freely diving animals. The effects of L–R shunt that returns oxygenated blood to the lungs are not easily predicted but functional consequences have been suggested (cf. Hicks and Wang, 1996). One hypothesis is that the increased oxygenation of pulmonary arterial blood caused by L–R shunt, facilitates pulmonary CO2 excretion (Ackerman and White, 1979) (cf. White, 1985). According to this hypothesis, the L–R shunt increases pulmonary arterial hemoglobin oxygenation, which, in turn, elevates pulmonary arterial partial pressure of CO2 (PCO2) through the Haldane effect and, therefore, enlarges the PCO2 gradient between the pulmonary capillaries and lung gas (White, 1985; White et al., 1989). However, a theoretical analysis of L–R shunting on CO2 excretion provided conflicting results (Hicks and Wang, 1996). Thus, the change in pulmonary arterial PCO2 is determined by the slope of the CO2 dissociation curve, the magnitude of the Haldane effects, the degree of the L–R shunt as well as other physiological variables (Hicks and Wang, 1996) rendering a priori predictions concerning the role of L–R shunt on CO2 excretion extremely difficult. The objective of this study was to experimentally investigate the effects of changes in Qpul and net cardiac shunts on pulmonary gas exchange in an intermittently breathing vertebrate with cardiac shunts. For the present study, we chose the freshwater turtle, Trachemys scripta because this species normally exhibit intermittent breathing associated with large changes in cardiac shunt patterns (Shelton and Burggren, 1976; White, 1985; Wang and Hicks, 1996). In addition, the cardiovascular anatomy lends itself to a level of instrumentation and experimental manipulation not easily obtainable in other animals. This enabled us to manipulate Qpul in free diving turtles while measuring gas exchange and ventilation. By inflating a vascular occluder placed around the common pulmonary artery, we prevented the normal rise in Qpul and the associated L–R shunt during ventilation. Simultaneously, partially occluding pulmonary blood flow would result in a net R–L shunt during ventilation. If indeed L–R shunt facilitates CO2 excretion, an abolishment of L–R The Journal of Experimental Biology 211, 3759-3763 Published by The Company of Biologists 2008 doi:10.1242/jeb.021089 Changes in pulmonary blood flow do not affect gas exchange during intermittent ventilation in resting turtles Tobias Wang1,2,* and James W. Hicks2 1Zoophysiology, Department of Biological Sciences, University of Aarhus, 8000 Aarhus C, Denmark and 2Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology, University of California at Irvine, Irvine, CA 92697, USA *Author for correspondence (e-mail: tobias.wang@biology.au.dk) Accepted 11 September 2008 SUMMARY The breathing pattern of many different air-breathing vertebrates, including lungfish, anuran amphibians, turtles, crocodiles and snakes, is characterized by brief periods of lung ventilation interspersed among apnoeas of variable duration. These intermittent ventilatory cycles are associated with characteristic increases in pulmonary blood flow and tachycardia. In animals with central vascular shunts, the rise in pulmonary blood flow during ventilation is associated with the development of left-to-right (L–R) cardiac shunt (pulmonary recirculation of oxygenated blood returning from the lungs). By contrast, a large net right-to-left (R–L) shunt (pulmonary bypass) normally prevails during apnoea. The cardio–respiratory interaction and the changes in cardiac shunting have been suggested to improve pulmonary gas exchange but the benefits of L–R shunting on pulmonary gas transport have not been studied experimentally. The present study measured pulmonary gas exchange in fully recovered, freely diving turtles, where changes in pulmonary blood flow were prevented by partial occlusion of the pulmonary artery. Prevention of L–R shunt during ventilation did not impair CO2 excretion and overall, oxygen uptake and CO2 excretion did not correlate with changes in pulmonary blood flow. We conclude that increases in pulmonary blood flow associated with ventilation are not required to maintain resting rates of oxygen uptake and CO2 excretion in resting animals. Key words: reptile, turtle, periodic ventilation, pulmonary blood flow, cardiac shunt, left-to-right shunt, gas exchange, CO2 excretion, respiratory gas exchange ratio. THE JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL BIOLOGY 3760 shunt during ventilation should result in CO2 retention, which will be evident as a transient decrease in the respiratory gas exchange ratio. Conversely, if R–L shunt induces a hypometabolic state, then oxygen uptake should be reduced. MATERIALS AND METHODS Animals and instrumentation Freshwater turtles (Trachemys scripta Gray) with a body mass ranging from 1.6 to 1.8 kg were purchased from Lemberger (Oshkosh, WI, USA) and freighted by air to the University of California at Irvine, USA. Here, the turtles were kept in open aquaria with free access to water and dry basking areas allowing for behavioral thermoregulation. They were fed fish but food was withheld for at least four days prior to surgery. For anesthesia, a short piece of soft rubber tubing was inserted through the glottis for artificial ventilation at 8–15 min–1 with a tidal volume of 10–20 ml kg–1 using a gas mixture consisting of 30% O2, 3% CO2 (balance N2) prepared by a gas mixer (GF-3, Cameron Institute, TX, USA). This gas mixture passed through a Halothane vaporizer (Drager, Lübeck, FRG, Germany) set at 4% to induce anesthesia. The Halothane level was reduced to 0.5–1% after 5–15 min when the turtles no longer responded to tactile stimulation. The heart and central blood vessels were exposed by removing a 4�5 cm portion of the plastron using a bone saw. The common pulmonary artery was freed from the systemic vessels in the aortic trunk and a vascular occluder (In Vivo Metric, Healdsburg, CA, USA) was placed around the common pulmonary artery. Short sections (1.5 cm) of the left pulmonary artery and the left aortic arch vessels were freed from the connecting tissue in order to place the two blood flow probes (2R, Transonic System, Ithaca, NY, USA). Acoustical gel (Mohawk Medical Supply, NY, USA) was injected around the probe to enhance the signal. Leads from the probes and the occluder were carried out ventrally and strapped to the carapace, and the excised piece of plastron was glued in place. Artificial ventilation was continued until the turtle regained spontaneous breathing. Measurement of blood flows, ventilation and gas exchange Ventilation and gas exchange was determined in an experimental setup similar to that described by Glass et al. (Glass et al., 1983), where the turtle could move freely within a shielded holding tank (30�30�60 cm) covered by a grid forcing it to breathe at a funnel- shaped breathing hole with a diameter of 7 cm. The holding tank was covered on all sides to prevent visual disturbance. Airflow leaving the funnel covering the breathing hole was maintained constant at 500 ml min–1 and continuously analysed using a Beckman OM-11 paramagnetic O2 analyzer and a Beckman LB-2 CO2 analyzer connected in series (Anaheim, CA, USA). Given the constant flow rate, oxygen consumption and CO2 production could be calculated as the respective areas below or above the baseline values. In addition, this relationship was verified by artificially simulating exhalations with known gas compositions through the funnel. A pneumotachograph (0–5 LPM, Hans Rudolph, Shawney, MO, USA) placed at the gas inlet and connected to a Validyne differential pressure transducer (DP45-14, Validyne Engineering Sales Corp., Northridge, CA, USA) recorded increases in gas flow during inhalations and decreases in gas flow during exhalations. The pneumotachograph was calibrated by manually simulating breaths of a known volume using a syringe, which was directly connected to the breathing funnel. As originally described by Funk et al. (Funk et al., 1986), we found that the integrated airflow signal of a given tidal volume decreased with increased frequency. Therefore, a calibration at several frequencies was necessary, and the instantaneous breathing frequency (breath-to-breath frequency within a ventilatory period) of several turtles was analysed in detail to provide the exact correction factor. The flow probes were connected to a dual channel blood flow meter (T201, Transonic system) and fH was calculated on the basis of the instantaneous blood flow profiles. Total Qpul was calculated as 2�QLPA (left pulmonary artery) whereas the systemic cardiac output (Qsys) was calculated as 2.75�QLAo (left aortic arch) (Wang and Hicks, 1996). All measurements were collected continuously at 15 Hz on a computer using Acknowledge data aquisition program (v. 3.0; Biopac System, Goleta, CA, USA). Experimental protocol All animals recovered for a minimum of two days following surgery. On the morning of the measurements, the turtle was placed in the experimental setup and left undisturbed for 4–6 h. During this period, ventilatory and cardiovascular parameters approached the values previously reported in this species, under resting conditions. All physiological parameters were then collected for 60 min, and the vascular occluder was manually inflated to maintain Qpul at a level similar to that observed during apnoea prior to manipulation. The partial pulmonary artery occlusion was maintained for 60 min and then released. After this period, the turtle was left undisturbed for an additional 60 min. In two instances, pulmonary artery occlusion elicited noticeable activity and the measurements were aborted and repeated on the following day. Data analysis Recordings of blood flows, ventilation and gas exchange were analyzed using Acknowledge (3.0) data analysis system (Biopac System). All experiments were divided into 18 ten-minute intervals (60 min control, 60 min of reduction of pulmonary blood flow and 60 min of subsequent control) and each interval was analysed for mean Qpul, mean Qsys, total ventilated volume, and total O2 uptake and CO2 excretion. For each 10 min interval, a mean and standard error of each of the five turtles were calculated. Because the analysis of ventilatory and cardiovascular parameters in turtles are complicated by the intermittent breathing pattern, a presentation of mean values, as described above, could mask possible effects of manipulating pulmonary blood flow on gas exchange. We, therefore, also present gas exchange values for each individual animal during the 10 min intervals as a function of ventilatory and cardiovascular variables. Statistics The effects of partial occlusion of the physiological parameters were evaluated with a one-way analysis of variance (ANOVA) for repeated measures. In case of a significant effect, differences among means were assessed with a Student–Newman–Keuls test. To further evaluate the effects of Qpul on gas exchange, linear regression of data points was conducted. In all statistical analyses, a fiducial limit for significance of P<0.05 was applied. All data are presented as means ±1 s.e.m. RESULTS An example of blood flows and ventilation recorded during an experiment is shown in Fig. 1. Mean values for Qpul and Qsys, as well as minute ventilation (Ve) and pulmonary gas exchange ratios (RE), are presented in Figs 2 and 3. The mean values obtained for ventilation, gas exchange and blood flows in the present study correspond well with previous reports on the same species at similar temperatures (e.g. Shelton and Burggren, 1976; Glass et al., 1983; T. Wang and J. W. Hicks THE JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL BIOLOGY 3761Cardiac shunts and gas exchange Milsom and Chan, 1986; Wang and Hicks, 1996). Partial occlusion of the common pulmonary artery lowered Qpul to the levels measured during apnoea and elicited a small rise in Qsys (Figs 1 and 2). The manipulation of pulmonary artery blood flow abolished the net L–R cardiac shunt (Qpul/Qsys>1) during ventilation and induced a chronic R–L shunt throughout the ventilatory cycle, as reflected in a significant decrease of Qpul/Qsys to values below 1 (Fig. 2). This altered cardiac shunt pattern did not affect overall Ve or RE during the 60 min period of partial occlusion (Fig. 3). Upon releasing the occlusion, the normal hemodynamic changes associated with ventilation and apnoea were rapidly restored (see Fig. 1). In some individuals, Qpul increased drastically following release of the occlusion. A similar pattern of changes in blood flow and ventilation was observed in all experimental animals. All individual data points for gas exchange over 10 min intervals for all five turtles are presented in Fig. 4. These results demonstrate that measured values of rate of oxygen uptake (VO2), rate of CO2 excretion (VCO2) and RE were correlated with Ve but were independent of total Qpul and Qpul/Qsys. DISCUSSION The turtles studied in the present study exhibited the large changes in Qpul and cardiac shunt patterns during ventilation that are characteristically reported for many air-breathing ectothermic vertebrates (White and Ross, 1966; White, 1968; Johansen et al., 1970; Shelton, 1970; Lillywhite and Donald, 1989). These hemodynamic changes associated with ventilation are particularly pronounced in turtles where Qpul and fH increase several-fold during ventilation compared with apnoea (White and Ross, 1966; Shelton and Burggren, 1976; Wang and Hicks, 1996). The rise in Qpul during ventilation is primarily caused by lowered pulmonary vascular resistance as vagal tone on smooth muscle surrounding the pulmonary artery is reduced (Burggren, 1977; Milsom et al., 1977; Hicks, 1994; Wang et al., 2001). The intermittent ventilatory pattern causes systematic changes in pulmonary gas composition (Lenfant et al., 1970; Burggren and Shelton, 1979; Boutilier and Shelton, 1986; Hicks and White, 1992). Thus, as apnoea proceeds, oxygen removal from the lung vastly exceeds CO2 excretion and the RE consequently decreases (Burggren and Shelton, 1979). However, when ventilation resumes, RE increases above the metabolic respiratory quotient (RQ) and may even exceed values greater than 2 (Burggren and Shelton, 1979; Glass and Johansen, 1979). 0 50 100 150 0 20 40 Time (min) 0 20 80 10040 60 0 20 40 V e n til a tio n Q p u l ( m l m in – 1 ) Q L A o ( m l m in – 1 ) f H ( m in – 1 ) Partial occlusion of the pulmonary artery Fig. 1. An example of ventilation and blood flows in a turtle instrumented with flow probes on the left aortic arch (LAo) and the left pulmonary artery, as well as a vascular occluder around the common pulmonary artery. During the first 60 min, pulmonary blood flow (Qpul) and heart rate (fH) increased substantially during ventilation, and caused the development of a net left–to-right (L–R) cardiac shunt pattern. This rise in Qpul was then prevented by partial occlusion of the common pulmonary by inflation of the vascular occluder for the following 60 min. As a consequence, a net cardiac right-to-left (R–L) shunt prevailed even during ventilation. Blood flows and ventilation are also shown during 60 min after releasing the occlusion. Q p u l ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 20 40 60 0 20 40 60 Q p u l/Q sy s 0.5 1.0 1.5 2.0 Partial occlusion of pulmonary flow * * * * * A B C * * * * * * * * * Time (min) 0 20 80 10040 60 160 180120 140 Q sy s (m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) Fig. 2. Blood flows and cardiac shunt pattern before, during and after partial occlusion of the common pulmonary artery. (A) Mean pulmonary blood flow (Qpul); (B) mean systemic blood flow (Qsys); (C) Qpul/Qsys. Values are means ±1 s.e.m. (N=5) over 10 min periods. Values significantly different from control conditions are marked with an asterisk (P<0.05). THE JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL BIOLOGY 3762 A central aim of the present study was to investigate the hypothesis that net L–R cardiac shunt during the ventilatory periods augments the cyclic excretion of CO2 (Ackerman and White, 1979; White, 1985). L–R shunt increases hemoglobin oxygen saturation (HbO2sat) of pulmonary arterial blood relative to right atrial blood. This has been proposed to increase HbO2sat of pulmonary arterial blood and lower blood CO2 affinity through the Haldane effect, which would increase PCO2 in the pulmonary arterial blood. This elevated PCO2 would then increase the PCO2 gradient between pulmonary capillary blood and the lungs, and facilitate CO2 excretion into the lungs (White, 1985). The magnitude of this effect depends on the magnitude of the L–R shunt, the CO2 dissociation curve and oxygenation differences between the two atria but the complex interaction between these various physiological parameters renders theoretical predictions difficult (Hicks and Wang, 1996). However, if L–R shunt contributes significantly to CO2 excretion, the experimental prevention of L–R cardiac shunt during ventilation by partial occlusion of the pulmonary artery should have led to a reduction in pulmonary CO2 excretion. This effect would best be evaluated as a reduction in the RE because this ratio would not be affected by altered metabolism. Our manipulation of Qpul successfully prevented L–R shunt during ventilation and maintained a net R–L shunt (Qpul/Qsys<1) during both ventilatory periods and apnoea. The results of the present study demonstrate that eliminating net L–R shunt had no significant effect on pulmonary gas exchange in recovered animals and our study, therefore, does not support the hypothesis that L–R shunt during ventilation facilitates CO2 excretion in turtles at rest. This study showed that overall gas exchange of resting turtles was not influenced by the reduction of Qpul and the induction of a chronic R–L shunt. A previous study investigating V/Q (ventilation- perfusion) distributions on the efficacy of gas exchange, indicated that a 10-fold change in Qpul and 6-fold change in Qpul/Qsys had no effect on overall VCO2 and VO2 in artificially ventilated, anesthetized turtles (Hopkins et al., 1996). Our study extends these observations to a fully recovered, freely diving turtle and underscores the notion that improved efficacy of lung function at high Qpul does not affect overall gas exchange of resting animal. Resting gas exchange is maintained both at high and low pulmonary blood flow, with R–L shunt (Qpul/Qsys<1) or L–R shunt (Qpul/Qsys>1). Consequently, we suggest that in animals with low resting oxygen demands, increases in Qpul associated with ventilation are not required to meet or maintain resting VO2 and VCO2. The observation that a prevailing R–L shunt (Qpul/Qsys<1) did not reduce VO2 contrasts with previous studies on anesthetized and artificially ventilated turtles, where arterial hypoxemia, resulting either from reductions in inspired oxygen levels or a vagally induced R–L cardiac shunt, triggered a significant reduction in VO2 (Hicks and Wang, 1999; Platzack and Hicks, 2001). In these acute studies, the fully anesthetized turtles were artificially ventilated, and the 30–70% reductions in VO2 were fully reversed by injections of 2,4-dinitrophenol, which uncouples the mitochondria and shows that normal VO2 could be sustained at the reduced level of systemic oxygen delivery (Qsys�arterial O2 concentration) (Hicks and Wang, 1999; Platzack and Hicks, 2001). Such hypoxemic-induced hypometabolism would be a powerful mechanism for extending aerobic dive times in animals with central vascular shunts (Hicks and Wang, 2004). In the present study, the absence of a significant reduction in VO2 with low Qpul and Qpul/Qsys<1 suggests that hypometabolism may not occur in recovered, freely diving turtles. In previous studies on anesthetized Trachemys, systemic oxygen delivery was reduced by over 50% through reductions in inspired oxygen levels and by over 60% during electrical stimulation of the right vagal afferent nerves (Hicks and Wang, 1999; Platzack and Hicks, 2001). In freely diving turtles, it is possible that the overall reduction in systemic oxygen delivery may not have may have been of sufficient magnitude to trigger a hypometabolic state. Unfortunately, we did not measure arterial blood gases, so although a net R–L shunt occurred (Qpul/Qsys<1), the absolute reduction in systemic oxygen delivery could not be assessed. Our overall findings do not necessarily negate the relative importance of altering Qpul and cardiac shunt patterns during intermittent ventilation. Whereas an increased Qpul alone did not affect resting pulmonary gas exchange, a low Qpul/Qsys lowers arterial oxygen content through the addition of venous admixture to arterial blood. Conversely, an elevation of Qpul during ventilation T. Wang and J. W. Hicks V e ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 20 40 60 V O 2 ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 1 2 Time (min) R E 0 0.5 1.0 1.5 Partial occlusion of pulmonary flow A C D V C O 2 ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 1 2 B 0 20 40 60 80 100 120 140 160 180 Fig. 3. Ventilation and gas exchange before, during and after partial occlusion of the common pulmonary artery. (A) Pulmonary ventilation (Ve); (B) oxygen uptake (VO2); (C) CO2 excretion (VCO2) (D) respiratory gas exchange ratio (RE). Values are means ±1 s.e.m. (N=5) over 10 min period. Values significantly different from control conditions are marked with an asterisk (P<0.05). No mean values during manipulation are significantly different than those obtained during the preceding control period. THE JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL BIOLOGY 3763Cardiac shunts and gas exchange and the attending increases in Qpul/Qsys will elevate arterial blood oxygen content. If Qpul/Qsys were to remain relatively low during ventilation, as we demonstrated in this study, the resting oxygen demands will be satisfied but the result is accomplished under conditions of lowered arterial oxygen saturation, due to R–L shunt (Qpul/Qsys<1). Such a condition may, over the long term, influence the potential for aerobic diving. J.W.H. was supported by a NSF grant (IOB 0445680), while T.W. was supported by the Danish Research Council and the Carlsberg Foundation (Denmark). The years teach much which the days never knew – Ralph Waldo Emerson. REFERENCES Ackerman, R. A. and White, F. N. (1979). Cyclic carbon dioxide exchange in the turtle, Pseudemys scripta. Physiol. Zool. 52, 378-389. Boutilier, R. G. and Shelton, G. (1986). Gas exchange, storage and transport in voluntarily diving Xenopus laevis. J. Exp. Biol. 126, 133-155. Burggren, W. W. (1977). The pulmonary circulation of the chelonian reptile: morphology, haemodynamics and pharmacology. J. Comp. Physiol. 116, 303-323. Burggren, W. W. (1987). Form and function in reptilian circulations. Am. Zool. 27, 5- 19. Burggren, W. W. and Shelton, G. (1979). Gas exchange and transport during intermittent breathing in chelonian reptiles. J. Exp. Biol. 82, 75-92. Funk, G. D., Webb, C. L. and Milsom, W. K. (1986). Noninvasive measurement of respiratory tidal volume in aquatic, air-breathing animals. J. Exp. Biol. 126, 519-523. Glass, M. L. and Johansen, K. (1979). Periodic breathing in the crocodile, Crocodylus niloticus: consequences for the gas exchange ratio and control of breathing. J. Exp. Zool. 208, 319-326. Glass, M. L., Boutilier, R. G. and Heisler, N. (1983). Ventilatory control of arterial PO2 in the turtle Chrysemys picta bellii: effects of temperature and hypoxia. J. Comp. Physiol. 151, 145-153. Hicks J. W. (1994). Adrenergic and cholinergic regulation of intracardiac shunting. Physiol. Zool. 67, 1325-1346 Hicks, J. W. and Wang, T. (1996). The functional role of cardiac shunts in reptiles J. Exp. Zool. 275, 204-216. Hicks, J. W. and Wang, T. (1999). Hypoxic hypometabolism in the turtle, Trachemys scripta. Am. J. Physiol. 277, R18-R23. Hicks, J. W. and Wang, T. (2004). Hypometabolism in reptiles: behavioural and physiological mechanisms that reduce aerobic demands. Respir. Physiol. Neurobiol. 141, 261-271. Hicks, J. W. and White, F. N. (1992). Pulmonary gas exchange during intermittent ventilation in the American alligator. Respir. Physiol. 88, 23-36. Hopkins, S. R., Wang, T. and Hicks, J. W. (1996). The effect of altering pulmonary blood flow on pulmonary gas exchange in the turtle Trachemys (Pseudemys) scripta. J. Exp. Biol. 199, 2207-2214. Johansen, K., Lenfant, C. and Hanson, D. (1970). Phylogenetic development of pulmonary circulation. Fed. Proc. 29, 1135-1140. Lenfant, C., Johansen, K., Petersen, J. A. and Schmidt-Nielsen, K. (1970). Respiration in the fresh water turtle, Chelydra fimbriata. Respir. Physiol. 8, 261-275. Lillywhite, H. B. and Donald, J. A. (1989). Pulmonary blood flow regulation in an aquatic snake. Science 245, 293-295. Milsom, W. K. and Chan, P. (1986). The relationship between lung volume, respiratory drive and breathing pattern in the turtle, Chrysemys picta. J. Exp. Biol. 120, 233-247. Milsom, W. K., Langille, B. L. and Jones, D. R. (1977). Vagal control of vascular resistance in the turtle, Chrysemys scripta. Can. J. Zool. 55, 359-367. Platzack, B. and Hicks, J. W. (2001). Reductions in systemic oxygen delivery induce a hypometabolic state in the turtle Trachemys scripta. Am. J. Physiol. 281, R1295- R1301. Shelton, G. (1970). The effect of lung ventilation on blood flow to the lungs and body of the amphibian, Xenopus laevis. Respir. Physiol. 9, 183-196. Shelton, G. and Burggren, W. W. (1976). Cardiovascular dynamics of the Chelonia during apnea and lung ventilation. J. Exp. Biol. 64, 323-343. Wang, T. and Hicks, J. W. (1996). Cardio-respiratory synchrony in turtles. J. Exp. Biol. 199, 1791-1800. Wang, T., Warburton, S. J., Abe, A. S. and Taylor, E. W. (2001). Vagal control of heart rate and cardiac shunts in reptiles: relation to metabolic state. Exp. Physiol. 86, 777-786. White, F. N. (1968). Functional anatomy of the heart of reptiles. Am. Zool. 8, 211-219. White, F. N. (1985). Role of intracardiac shunts in pulmonary gas exchange in chelonian reptiles. In Cardiovascular Shunts (ed. by K. Johansen and W. W. Burggren), pp. 298-305. Copenhagen: Munksgaard. White, F. N. and Ross, G. (1966). Circulatory changes during experimental diving in the turtle. Am. J. Physiol. 211, 15-18. White, F. N., Hicks, J. W. and Ishimatsu, A. (1989). Respiratory states and intracardiac shunts in turtles. Am. J. Physiol. 256, R240-R247. V O 2 ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 0.5 1.0 1.5 2.0 V C O 2 ( m l m in – 1 k g – 1 ) 0 0.5 1.0 1.5 2.0 Ve (ml min–1 kg–1) 0 20 40 60 80 100 120 0 10 0 0.5 1.0 2.0 2.5 3.01.520 4030 50 60 70 R E 0 0.2 0.4 0.6 0.8 1.0 1.2 1.4 1.6 Qpul (ml min –1 kg–1) Qpul/Qsys Partial occlusion of pulmonary artery Control Fig. 4. Oxygen uptake (VO2), CO2 excretion (VCO2) and the respiratory gas exchange ratio (RE) as a function of minute ventilation (Ve, left panel), pulmonary blood flow (Qpul middle panel) and Qpul/Qsys (right panel). Open circles represent periods of partial occlusion of the pulmonary artery, and closed circles represent pre- and post-occlusion. Each symbol represents the mean value determined every 10 min, during a three hour experimental protocol. THE JOURNAL OF EXPERIMENTAL BIOLOGY 
work_ag2w3rlnefdhvkkdmqjszmk5ue	----	<31323238BFCFB7E15FBCADBFEFB4EB20B9CCB1B9C7D0BFACB1B8BCD22033332D325F30382E687770> 【연구논문】 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America Byeong Kee Yang (Seoul National University) 1. Introduction Although it presents a reading of Emerson’s Nature, the argument of this paper goes beyond the subject of Nature itself.1) It employs Emerson’s Nature to raise a broader issue: a historical relationship between early modern irrational occult ideas and modern rational political ideas and the complex ways these two disparate elements are connected to unconscious desire for totalitarian power. In other words, this paper is an attempt to reframe one aspect of modern 1) For subsequent quotations from Nature, I use Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature, in The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. William H. Gilman (New York: Signet, 1965), 186-222. It should be noted that this paper does not discuss Emerson’s thoughts as a whole. Nature, Emerson’s first book, contains a relatively stronger idealism than his later works. David M. Robinson, “Emerson and Religion,” A Historical Guide to Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. Joel Myerson (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 170-174. 280 Byeong Kee Yang rationality and its potential implication within the context of ‘ancient irrationality,’ or more specifically, within the context of Western occultism. The nineteenth century experienced a paradox in which rationalism and irrationalism coincided in a complex way. Although it was still the Age of Reason and Enlightenment, which was inaugurated in the eighteenth century, the nineteenth century also bore witness to “the occult underground” or “the occult revival,”2) a movement which has been largely ignored by historians, who, “because of its intellectual unrespectibility,” “often relegated [it] to a dusty bin in the back room marked superstition.”3) As James Webb explains, “Just when the age of Reason seemed to be bearing fruit in the 19th century, there was an unexpected reaction against [rationalism], a wild return to archaic forms of belief, and among the intelligentsia a sinister concentration on superstitions which had been thought buried.”4) Being a historical product of the nineteenth century, Emerson’s Nature is a textual place where we can observe this peculiar historical phenomenon: a strange ‘amalgamation’ of triumphant rationalism and the revival of irrationalism. I say ‘amalgamation,’ rather than just ‘coexistence,’ because in Emerson’s Nature rationalism and irrationalism occurred not 2) James Webb, The Occult Underground (Chicago: Open Court, 1974). 3) It was in 1974 when James Webb said that “the occult revival of the 19th century” had been ignored by scholars. In 2001, Arthur Versluis also said that “esotericism has been frequently excluded from the purview of academia as whole for the past several centuries,” and claimed his research on the occult in the 19th century “ is among the very first venture into this new territory.” Webb, Occult Underground, 1-2. As late as 2008, Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke observed that “[t]he scholarly study of Western esotericism is a comparatively recent phenomenon.” Arthur Versluis, The Esoteric origins of the American Renaissance (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001),6. 4) Webb, Occult Underground, 7-8. 281 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America merely synchronously, but more importantly in a paradoxically unified form. This paper shall address this aspect of these contradictory elements’ ‘amalgamation.’ This peculiar amalgamation, the irrational rationalism in Nature, raises another significant issue. F. O. Matthiessen, in his foundational study, American Renaissance, observed that “it is no long step from his [Emerson’s] indiscriminate glorification of power to the predatory career of Henry Ford,” and hereby “[he] noted the connection between Emerson’s “ideal man of self-reliant energy” and “the brutal man of Fascism.”5) Yet, conspicuously enough, Matthiessen’s intuitive observation of the totalitarian implication in Emersonian idealism has not drawn the attention of later scholars. This paper shall deal with this largely ignored political implication of Nature as well. The “transparent eyeball,” which lies at the core of Nature’s idealism, expresses not just peaceful transcendence,6) but also modernity’s insatiable desire for rationality,7) which unconsciously strives to realize itself as Foucauldian power.8) As S. Ijsseling observers, “According to Foucault, totalitarianism culminated in a modern 5) F. O. Matthiessen, American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1941), 367-368; Michael Lopez, Emerson and Power: Creative Antagonism in the Nineteenth Century (DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1996), 47. Here, Lopez’s refutation of Mattheissen is not very convincing. 6) For this kind of transcendentalist reading of Emerson, which is also a traditional one, see Michael Lopez, Emerson and Power,19-52. 7) This paper differs from de-transcendentalist readings, which tend to exalt Emerson as a prophet of postmodernity smoothing down the anxiety of modernity. For de-transcendentalist or deconstructive readings as a modern trend in Emerson scholarship since the 1980s, see Lopez, Emerson and Power, 165-189. 8) Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison, tr. Alan Sheridan (New York: Vintage, 1977), 195-228. 282 Byeong Kee Yang state that is characterized by a very complex combination of techniques of indivisualisation and a system of totalisation.”9) Yet, there is a point to be made here. Foucault says that he has “never argued that a power mechanism suffices to characterize a society.”10) Likewise, the totalitarian mechanism implied in Nature does not suffice to characterize Nature. This paper discusses not the whole, but an aspect of Nature, which is yet still crucial. In short, this paper shall discuss the nature of the “transparent eyeball” in relation to the occult revival of the nineteenth century, and thereby it shall explain one aspect of modern rationality and its totalitarian implication.11) 2. “Universal Antagonism” in the “Transparent Eyeball” It seems natural to read Emerson’s Nature within the framework of idealism, which portrays human beings in perfect harmony with Nature; there seems to be no contradiction or conflicts between Nature and man in Emersonian cosmos.12) A critical reading of Nature, however, reveals the elements that are difficult to explain within the framework of simple idealism. Underneath the apparent 9) S. Ijsseling, “Foucault With Heidegger,” Man and World vol.19 (1986): 422. 10) Michel Foucault, Power, ed. James D. Faubion, tr. Robert Hurley et al. (New York: New Press, 2000), 293. 11) For a detailed examination of the relationship between European occult ideas and modern politics, see B. J. Gibbons, Spirituality and the Occult: From the Renaissance To the Modern Age (London and New York: Routledge, 2001), 123-124; Webb, The Occult Underground, 339-367. For occultism’s influence on totalitarianism, see Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke, The Occult Roots of Nazism; Secret Aryan Cults and Their Influence On Nazi Ideology (New York: New York University Press, 1992). 12) For the tradition of reading Emerson as an idealist, see Lopez, Emerson and Power, 19-52. 283 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America optimism and harmony, man in fact bears contradictory feelings towards Nature. The kingdom of man over nature, which cometh not with observation, -- a dominion such as now is beyond dream of God, -- he shall enter without more wonder than the blind man feels who is gradually restored to perfect sight.13) For Emerson, union with Nature is not merely a serene and peaceful event while it takes the form of “domination,” implying aggressiveness and coercion. Beneath the “kinship” between man and Nature is intimated “universal antagonism, not cosmic unity”.14) The famous “transparent eye-ball” thus serves as the cathexis of this “universal antagonism” between man and Nature. Standing on the bare ground, -- my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, -- all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.15) Although ‘idealist’ Emerson might have intended the event of becoming “a transparent eye-ball” to mean a peaceful union of man with Nature, as “a transparent eye-ball,” he ironically divulges his unconscious desire to dominate Nature. Here originates the “universal antagonism.” It is crucial to understand the significance of the “transparent 13) Emerson, Nature, Chapter 8, 223, italics mine 14) Lopez, Emerson and Power, 10. 15) Emerson, Nature, Chapter 1, 189, italics mine. 284 Byeong Kee Yang eye-ball.” In Nature there are numerous “see”s and “eye”s, and also repeated emphases on the relationship between seeing, knowledge, and power. For Emerson, seeing is another word for knowing, and true knowledge is acquired only through seeing. This theme permeates throughout Nature, and is especially prominent in the fourth chapter, titled “language.” A life in harmony with nature, the love of truth and of virtue, will purge the eyes to understand her text. By degrees we may come to know the primitive sense of the permanent objects of nature, so that the world shall be to us an open book, and every form significant of its hidden life and final cause. A new interest surprises us, whilst, under the view now suggested, we contemplate the fearful extent and multitude of objects; since “every object rightly seen, unlocks a new faculty of the soul.” That which was unconscious truth, becomes, when interpreted and defined in an object, a part of the domain of knowledge, -- a new weapon in the magazine of power.16) In the passage, “the eyes to understand [Nature’s] text” shows the crucial link between seeing and knowing. Through “eyes” we “understand” “text.” Through “eyes” we find the whole world turned into “a book.” We “see” in the world “every form significant of its hidden life and final cause,” that is, ‘deep’ knowledge. We find also an important linkage between knowledge and power. ‘Seeing’ as the only true method of acquiring ‘true’ knowledge “unlocks a new faculty” of the soul, that is, power. “That which was unconscious truth, becomes... a part of the domain of knowledge, -- a new weapon in the magazine of power.” “Unconscious truth” expounded by ‘spiritual’ vision becomes 16) Ibid., Chapter 4, 202, italics mine. 285 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America knowledge, which immediately turns into “a new weapon in the magazine of power.” In the Emersonian universe, the most important equation or the most fundamental ‘spiritual’ law is established: ‘vision = knowledge = power.’ 3. Emersonian Power as Secular Political Idea a) Transparent Eye and Foucauldian Power The question is: What kind of power is this? What are the qualities of this power which implies “universal antagonism” beneath the serene and peaceful “transparent eye-ball”? Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed, and the guest sees not how he should tire of them in a thousand years. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, -- no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, -- my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, -- all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.17) The kingdom of man over nature, which cometh not with observation, -- a dominion such as now is beyond dream of God, - he shall enter without more wonder than the blind man feels who is gradually restored to perfect sight.18) 17) Ibid., Chapter 1, 189, italics mine. 18) Ibid., Chapter 8, 223, italics mine. 286 Byeong Kee Yang To identify the most fundamental quality, the following question should be first addressed: is the event of becoming “a transparent eye-ball” an experience of an individual? Apparently it is. But this appearance is quite dubious. Human individuality or the sense of individuality consists of various personal experiences, many of which come from social ties such as family, friends, school, and various other social groups. When one becomes “a transparent eyeball” and therefore “when all mean egotism vanishes,” it is actually not “mean egotism” that vanishes, but subjectivity and individuality. For “I am nothing” then. “[T]ransparent eyeball,” therefore, can and should be read not as a personality but as an abstract idea or conceptuality of power itself, though this may not be what Emerson intended consciously. The second most important quality of Emersonian power is its invisibility. When it comes to the visual organ, Emerson favors transparency over opaqueness, invisibility over visibility. ‘A transparent/invisible eyeball’ is of a higher value than ‘an opaque/visible eyeball.’ If you want to acquire the supreme power, you should see with your transparent eyes, which are, therefore, invisible to the eyes of others. If your eyes are opaque, therefore visible, you cannot acquire such power and you will remain powerless. And if your eyes are visible, then you do not “see all.” Only when your eyes are transparent, or more strictly, when your whole being, by becoming a transparent eyeball, becomes invisible, you “see all.” Absolute “dominion” over the universe comes not with “observation”-that is, through visible eyes, but only through “perfect sight,” that is, through “a transparent eyeball,” the invisible eyes. To “see all” means two things; first, it means you see everything that is everywhere. In other words, it means omnipresence. Second, it means you possess perfect knowledge of things. You see through 287 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America appearance and grasp essence behind appearance. It is through its invisibility of surveillance and the total knowledge of objects through ceaseless surveillance that Panoptic power (as Foucault describes it) comes to have invincibility, pervasiveness and omnipresence. This form of Foucauldian power is the latest and the most developed one in human history, and, for Faucault, this panoptic power seems invincible because it is invisible, pervasive, and omnipresent, which means it is impossible to resist, attack or struggle against. At least in this point, the Emersonian power expressed in a condensed way in the “transparent eyeball” is similar to Foucauldian panoptic power. The “transparent eyeball,” like Foucauldian panoptic power, is invincible and irresistible through its invisibility and omniscience. Nothing bad can happen to “a transparent eyeball,” since it is absolute power. “There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, -- no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair.” b) Transparent Objects and Foucauldian Discipline In Discipline and Punish, Foucault observes fundamental changes in the way of discipline and punishment in the course of the French Revolution and the Enlightenment. Through this ‘humanization’ process, the object of discipline and punishment changed from the body to the ‘soul.’ The accumulation through panoptic surveillance of knowledge about prisoners’ behaviors means that power is now concerned with human mentality or ‘soul,’ not with their superficial body. Besides its own invisibility, Foucauldian power’s ‘irresistibility’ comes from its way of processing and accumulating knowledge: it finds out invisible unity, pattern, and law within individual and apparently chaotic 288 Byeong Kee Yang phenomena. It “see[s] through them” to “causes and spirits,” just like Emerson’s “transparent eyeball”; and before its penetrating vision of surveillance, “distinctness of objects” become “abated” and “outlines and surfaces become transparent.”19) Once again at least in this sense, the Emersonian eye of reason can be said to have the nature of Foucauldian panoptic power. When the power tries to control the body through corporeal violence, it confronts resistance since violence can be detected by the oppressed. However, when the power controls the invisible part of its objects, the subject of such power cannot resist since violence or oppression is difficult to detect. And only then the power can be stable and permanent. For Foucault, the accumulation of knowledge on common patterns and laws of soul aims at “normalization” of the objects under surveillance. And this “normalization” is most effective when the norm is internalized by surveyed objects so that the system of self-discipline is operative. Although a ‘strict’ analogy is difficult to establish on this point between Foucauldian and Emersonian power, it is not impossible, either. One of the most important rhetorical strategies Emerson adopts is that of mystical religious writings, which can be termed repetition of spiral progress.20) The mystical style, which possesses a religious or irrational element, contributes to the internalization of the Emersonian demand for “normalization.” Here we witness the paradoxical event 19) Ibid., Chapter 6, 209, italics mine. 20) For example, religious writings by mystical writers such as Thomas a Kempis, Brother Lawrence, Jeanne Guyon, Francois Fenelon, William Law, Hannah Whitall Smith, Andrew Murray, etc. use a similar rhetoric of repetition. Epistolary writings and writings on the mystical experience of progress share this rhetoric. Theological treatises such as Augustine’s Confession, however, do not draw on the same method. 289 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America that an irrational religious element expedites a rational secular history, which we shall discuss further in the next section. 4. Emersonian Power as Occult Religious Idea: Hermetic Rather Than Christian Power is required to ensure society’s survival by controlling both external nature and the internal nature of society.21) External nature is controlled by productive knowledge, which is a technological power, and internal nature, by societal or cultural power. Without controlling both physical and human natures, survival of society is hardly guaranteed. The nineteenth century saw “the final collapse” of the dominant cultural power of the Church, which had controlled the internal nature of society until then.22) The industrial revolution and the subsequent advancement of science seriously challenged the established religious power, which had still been both the societal and cultural power. Furthermore, successive major revolutions such as the French Revolution of 1789, the socialist movement inflamed by Karl Marx and Engels, and the biological evolutionary theory of Charles Darwin brought Christian faith to a near destruction. James Webb wrote: What was happening was the final collapse of the old world-order [that is, the Establishment culture of Western Europe, based entirely upon Christianity] which had first been rudely assaulted during the Renaissance and Reformation. . . just when the Age of Reason seemed to be bearing fruit in the 19th century, there was an unexpected reaction against the very method which had brought 21) Jürgen Habermas, Knowledge and Human Interests (Boston: Beacon Press, 1971),53. 22) Webb, The Occult Underground, 1-13, 339-67. 290 Byeong Kee Yang success, a wild return to archaic forms of belief, and among the intelligentsia a sinister concentration on superstitions which had been thought buried... Reason died sometime before 1865… after the Age of Reason came the Age of the Irrational.”23) In 1749, the Swedish theosophist Emanuel Swedenborg published the Arcana Coelestia in London. Fanz Mesmer propagated Animal Magnetism. There were Shakers, Adrew Jackson Davis’s spiritualism and theosophist movement, which continued into H. P. Blavastky. Albanese, Versluis, and Gibbons understood American Transcendentalism and European Romanticism within the tradition of this “Occult” and “Irrational” movement.24) People felt anxiety before the collapse of the established collective psychological power of the Church. They had to find an alternative haven for their ‘souls,’ and they found this in occultism.25) Emerson himself was an ardent reader of these occult philosophies. The grotesque eye-ball symbolism was not Emerson’s original creation but was borrowed from the German theosophist Jacob Boehme.26) Emerson’s interest in Hermeticism is important to understand the “transparent eye-ball” as well.27) A description of mystic initiation into Hermeticism, which revived and became of great interest to intellectuals of early 23) Webb, Occult Underground, 7-8. 24) See Ibid., 8; Albanese, America: Religions and Religion, 2nd edition (Belmont: Wadsworth Publishing Company, 1992), 260-258, Versluis, Esoteric Origins, 54-63, Gibbons, Spirituality, 15, 83. 25) See Albanese, America, 253-260; Versluis, Esoteric Origins, 21-52. 26) See Versluis, Esoteric Origins, 139-144. 27) In “Books,” Emerson includes the alchemical and theosophist bible, “Hermes Trismegistus,” among the “Bibles of the world,” thus putting it on an equal status with the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Bhagavad Gita, and the Buddhist classics. See Versluis, Esoteric Origins, 145. 291 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America modern Europe, reveals striking similarities to Emersonian transcendence or the becoming of “a transparent eye-ball.” The world of the second century was, however, seeking intensively for knowledge of reality, for an answer to its problems which the normal education failed to give. It turned to other ways of seeking an answer, intuitive, mystical, magical. Since reason seemed to have failed, it sought to cultivate the Nous, the intuitive exercise, but as a way of reaching intuitive knowledge of the divine and of the meaning of the world, as a gnosis . . . [The adept] seems to reach this illumination through contemplation of the cosmos as reflected in his own Nous or mens which separates out for him its divine meaning and gives him a spiritual mastery over it, as in the familiar Gnostic revelation or experience of the ascent of the soul through the spheres of the planets to become immersed in the divine.28) The historical background of ancient Hermeticism is very similar to that of the ‘transcendentalism’ in Nature. “[T]he normal education failed to give” “an answer” in the second century, just as “the retrospective” attitude of the scholarship contemporary with Emerson and ‘much’ specialized and divided natural science did not provide satisfactory answers on the meaning of the world.29) The world without meaning is the world causing anxiety and restlessness among people. Just as the people in that century turned to intuitive knowledge, so Emerson turned to the same kind of knowledge. Just as they get illumination of the meaning of the universe from the contemplation of cosmos, so Emerson teaches that thorough seeing Nature we realize the hidden meaning of the world. Just as the 28) Frances A. Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 1964), 4, italics mine. 29) See Emerson, Nature, “Introduction,” 186. 292 Byeong Kee Yang ancient people have “experience of the ascent of the soul through the spheres of the planet” as a form of “revelation,” so Emerson is “uplifted into infinite space.”Just as they “become immersed in the divine, so for Emerson “the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.” Most importantly, the ultimate goal of Hermetic practice was in the end to achieve “mastery over [the cosmos],” through perceiving “divine meaning”, that is, knowledge.30) And the knowledge or “gnosis” is attained through “contemplation”, that is, through a form of ‘seeing’ in Emerson’s sense. Both Gnosticism and Hermeticism are characterized by their emphasis on the experience of transcending the material world and the spiritual vision to see “a gnosis,” a hidden knowledge. Yet, there is a fundamental difference in the purpose of the transcendence and in the nature of the spiritual vision. While complete severance from the material world itself is the goal of Gnostic transcendence, it serves as a means to have complete mastery over the material world for Hermeticism. Moreover, the spiritual vision, which enables Gnostic vision and ‘gnosis’ makes one abhor and flee from the material world; Hermetic vision endows you with divine power to control the material world. Hermeticism, therefore, constitutes an important metaphysical foundation of modern science, while Gnosticism does not.31) Versluis reads the Emersonian “transparent eyeball” as signifying 30) See also, Yates, Giordano Bruno, 22ff, 128-129. Here she differentiates pessimistic gnosis from optimistic gnosis, calling the latter specifically Hermeticism. Similarly, I follow traditional understandings of Gnosticism (which is, however, blamed to have been affected by European Orientalism). For the traditional understanding of Gnosticism, see Karen L. King, What is Gnosticism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003), 20-109. 31) Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition. 293 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America serenity and peace, by identifying in it a New Testament allusion to spiritual eyes. But spiritual vision in the New Testament is not very interested in mastery over Nature, while Emersonian secularized spiritual vision is obsessed with it. In short, Nature’s transcendentalism is more akin to Hermeticism than to Gnosticism or New Testamental spirituality, which builds a strong reason why the “transparent eyeball” in Nature is not merely ‘transcendental’ but obsessed with power. The implication of the religious-historical context of the occult “transparent eyeball,” considered together with its association with the secular rational political ideas discussed in the previous section is this: the nineteenth century’s occult religious ideas and culture greatly contributed to the development of rational secular political ideas. A collective psychological need to have a sense of belonging created the religious occult “transparent eye-ball,” which, as we have discussed, is at the same time a symbolic expression of a secular rational political idea. The concluding section shall discuss the implication of this paradoxical coincidence of the rational and the irrational in a more detailed way. 5. Modernity’s Anxiety, Totalitarianism, and the Unconscious of the Text As discussed, “a transparent eye-ball” divulges “the universal antagonism” between man and Nature, that is, the anxiety and restlessness hidden beneath idealism or transcendentalism. Although Emerson might have intended to portray perfect spiritual serenity and peace, “a transparent eye-ball” unwittingly reveals anxiety and restlessness, as it cannot rest even for a moment from observing an extremely other-ized Nature. And due to this ‘inordinate’ interest in the mastery of the world, the 294 Byeong Kee Yang spirituality and transparency of the eyeball becomes ‘contaminated’ with grotesque corporeality; the eye does not have an eyelid, leaving every blood vessel on it laid bare. Jürgen Habermas observes that the increase of power through the accumulation of knowledge does “not only expand ranges of options but also new problem situations.” “A higher stage of [power] … does bring relief from problems of [the previous stage]. But the problems that arise at the new stage of [advanced power and knowledge] - insofar as they are at all comparable with the old ones-increase in intensity.”32) Habermas provides an appropriate explanation about the “increase in intensity” caused by “a transparent eye.” For Emerson, the (secularized) spiritual ‘eye’ is the only true organ that can accumulate knowledge, which is a direct source of power. “A transparent eyeball” is the symbol of the highest state of total knowledge and power, and this means, according to Habermas, the most increased problems, that is, the most intensified anxiety and restlessness. Emersonian power cannot be incarnated in the form of just an eye, it should be represented itself in the form of “an eye-ball,” an eye that does not have eyelids and is therefore laid bare. The Emersonian eyeball’s intense restlessness and anxiety in fact deprive it of the need for an eyelid, for the Emersonian eyeball is eternally cursed not to be able to blink and rest even for a moment, because of its insatiable and relentless desire for Power. The power that Habermas discusses is the power behind the development of rationality. In this sense, Emersonian power with its 32) Jürgen Habermas, Communication and Evolution of Society (Boston: Beacon Press, 1979), 164, italics mine. 295 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America demand for transparency is another name for the demand for modern rationality. It requires everything to be ‘transparent.’ Everything should reveal its invisible ‘true’ identity lying beneath its visible appearance. Everything should be understood according to rational or scientific standards such as thing’s “solidity or resistance, its inertia, its extension, its figure, its divisibility.” And it should not stop there. All this materialistic knowledge should go on to be “transfer[red]” to reveal “the analogy that marries Matter and Mind .”33) In other words, everything should reveal its invisible “Mind” hidden behind its visible materiality. The same principle applied to material things also should be applied to abstract things, such as social institutions or cultural practices. It forces each person to shed irrational cloaks of traditional authority, whether that person is a king or a priest (whether white or male). Modernity’s demand for “transparency” or rationality revealed that traditional authorities such as the monarchy and the Church are based on ideas that are irrational and unscientific. Modernity’s demand for “transparency” or rationality has brought about not only scientific revolution but also liberation of humanity from the irrational pre-modern violence it suffered from the absolute monarchy and the Church.34) When this rationalization or ‘transparentization’ process goes on to extremes, however, it is in danger of becoming conducive to totalitarian will. Transparency is demanded both for every surveying subject and surveyed object. Everything in the universe should be transparent. Transparency means not only physical invisibility for concrete things, 33) Emerson, Nature, Chapter 5, 203. 34) Alan Touraine, Critique of Modernity, tr. David Macey. (Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1995), 9-90. 296 Byeong Kee Yang but also extreme denial of individuality and diversity for human subjects. Therefore “[t]he name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental. To be brothers, to be acquaintances, master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance.”35) There is a potential danger in demanding transparency or rationality and that is that personality, individuality and diversity will be reduced to a ‘bundle’ of unified laws and principles. And in the end when “[A]ll these lessons” are “transfer[ed]” to Reason, that is, when they are reduced to being absorbed by the “Universal Being,” human personality and subjectivity are completely dissolved revealing themselves as a fantasy or an ideology.36) The process of human identity or human society becoming “transparent” can be called ‘atomization,’ to borrow from Hannah Arendt. Emerson’s demand for transparency rigorously persists until every element of human society including human identity becomes “highly atomized” 37) And Arendt presents this ‘high atomization’ as an essential condition for the realization of totalitarian society. She says, Such loyalty [to totalitarian power] can be expected only from the completely isolated human being who, without any other social ties to family, friends, comrades, or even mere acquaintances drives his sense of having a place in the world only from his belonging to a movement, his membership in the party.38) 35) Emerson, Nature, Chapter 1, 189. 36) Emerson, Nature, Chapter 5, 203. 37) Hannah Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, Part Three (New York: Harcourt, 1968), 15. 38) Ibid., 21-22. See the striking similarity to “[t]he name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental. To be brothers, to be acquaintances, master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance.” 297 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America In other words, the demand for ‘transparency,’ which once had liberated human subjects from the irrational violence of the king and the church, can possibly threaten to nullify the idea of human subjectivity itself, which is already in progress since Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud.39) Through destructively rational analysis of the world, the desire for modern rationality or transparency strives to ‘liberate’ everyone from every sense of identity, the sense of “having a place in the world” that comes from consciousness of “social ties to family, friends, comrades, or even mere acquaintances.” Human subjectivity before the demand of transparency and rationality turns out to be a grand ideology and a myth. The totalitarian perceptive violence which understands individualities and pluralities as “a trifle and an accident,” “foreign and accidental,” is one of the possible logical ends of Emerson’s desire for transparency and modern rationality.40) Beneath the transcendental “transparent eye-ball” lies anxiety and restlessness. Could this be because the unconscious of the text is well aware of this ironic and gloomy potential result? 6. Conclusion The point that should be understood is that the early modern occultism and modern rationalism coincide in Emerson’s “transparent eye-ball”, as we have discussed above.41) Irrational elements played a 39) Touraine, Critique of Modernity, 104-133. 40) Ibid., 91-133; Emerson, Nature, Chapter 1, 189. 41) There are numerous researches on this ‘coincidence’ in the field of studies on religion and science. For a classical study see E. A. Burtt, The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science, (Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, 2003); see also Frances A. Yates, The Rosicrucian Enlightenment (Lodon; New York: Routledge, 1972), which deals with the significant influence of occult philosophies on the modern scientific revolution. As for similar cases in 298 Byeong Kee Yang significant role behind the development of modern rationality. They provided psychological motivation and energy to expedite modernity’s rational and scientific project. And it also should be noted that the synergy from this paradoxical coexistence implies totalitarian desire in the unconscious despite irrationality’s sincere aspiration for serene transcendence. This study might go on even to imply that the potential danger that modernity’s desire for rationality can possibly transform to ‘irrational’ desire for totalitarian ‘utopia’ might be partly due to the paradoxical union of occult religious enthusiasm and rational scientific practice. Totalitarianism implied in the “transparent eyeball[’s]” unconscious might not be explained properly as the result of modernity’ desire for rationality which has gone extreme. For its extremity itself is partly due to enthusiasm inherent in occult and religious ideas. In other words, the totalitarian unconscious of the “transparent eyeball” might be a logical result of the lack of complete epistemological severance between irrational and rational, religious and secular ideals, which is the very nature of Emerson’s idealism in Nature. Modern de-transcedentalist or deconstructive readings, unduly influenced by modernist bias, however, fail to appreciate the significance of religious and mystical elements and therefore fail to note the paradoxical coincidence of rationalism and irrationalism. They tend to appreciate one element over the other, depreciating idealism and transcendentalism as insignificant for an understanding of the true Emerson. They instead celebrate Emerson as the precursor of colonial America, see Sarah Rivett, “Empirical Desire: Conversion, Ethnography, and the New Science of the Praying Indian,” Early American Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 4:1 16-45. 299 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America postmodernism, whose trademark is plurality and individuality42) Yet, now we see that Emerson is neither a de-transcendentalist, who, while pretending to be a transcendentalist, in reality celebrates a fragmented and contradictory material world, nor a transcendentalist, who naively sees a vision of immaculate unity and serene harmony in Nature. Rather, Emerson’s transcendentalist aspiration is a sincere one but inevitably implies anxieties and contradictions in spite of his honest attempts to transcend all these ‘imperfections.’ Finally, there are several important related issues that remain unaddressed: how later generations have responded to this element of political implication in the “transparent eyeball”; how they have understood or appropriated it according to their own needs; how this totalitarian unconscious in Nature has affected later times? This paper leaves these questions to be answered in a future study. 42) For the postmodernist elements in Emerson, see George J. Stack, Nietzsche and Emerson: An Elective Affinity (Athens: Ohio University Press, 1992); Lopez, Emerson and Power, 165-189. 300 Byeong Kee Yang WORKS CITED Albanese, Catherine L. America: Religions and Religion, 2nd edition. Belmont: Wadsworth Publishing Company, 1992. Arendt, Hannah. The Origins of Totalitarianism, Part Three. New York: Harcourt, 1968. Burtt, E. A. The Metaphysical Foundations of Modern Science. Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, 2003. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Nature. In The Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by William H. Gilman, 186-222. New York: Signet, 1965. Foucault, Michell. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. New York : Vintage Books, 1979. , Power. Edited by James D. Faubion. Translated by Robert Hurley, et al. New York: New Press, 2000. Gibbons, B. J. Spirituality and the Occult: from the Renaissance to the Modern Age. London; Routledge, 2001. Goodrick-Clarke, Nicholas. The Occult Roots of Nazism; Secret Aryan Cults and Their Influence On Nazi Ideology. New York: New York University Press, 1992. Habermas, Jurgen. Communication and the Evoution of Society, Boston: Beacon Press, 1979. , Knowledge and Human Interests. Boston: Beacon Press, 1971. Ijsseling, S. “Foucault With Heidegger.” Man and World vol.19 (1986): 413-424. King, Karen L. What is Gnosticism. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2003. Lopez, Michael. Emerson and Power: Creative Antagonism in the Nineteenth Century, DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 1996. Matthiessen, F. O. American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1941. Popper, K. R. The Open Society and Its Enemies: Volume 1. Plato. London: Routledge, 1966. 301 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America Rivett, Sarah. “Empirical Desire: Conversion, Ethnography, and the New Science of the Praying Indian,” Early American Studies: An Interdisciplinary Journal, 4:1 (2006) 16-45. Robinson, David M. “Emerson and Religion.” A Historical Guide to Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Joel Myerson, 170-174. New York: Oxford University Press, 2000. Stack, George J. Nietzsche and Emerson: An Elective Affinity. Athens: Ohio University Press, 1992. Touraine, Alan. Critique of Modernity. Translated by David Macey. Cambridge, Mass.: Blackwell, 1995. Versluis, Arthur. The Esoteric Origins of the American Renaissance. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. Webb, James. The Occult Underground. Chicago: Open Court, 1974 Yates, Frances A. Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition. Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 1964. , The Rosicrucian Enlightenment. London; Routledge, 1972. ■ 논문 투고일자: 2010. 9. 30 ■ 심사(수정)일자: 2010. 10. 15 ■ 게재 확정일자: 2010. 11. 7 302 Byeong Kee Yang Abstract Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America Byeong Kee Yang (Seoul National University) Modern readings of Emerson since the1980s have presented Emerson as a de-transcendentalist, a prophet of postmodernism, whose trademark is the celebration of the plurality and diversity of the secularized world. These readings are unjustly influenced by modernist bias, because they do not sufficiently consider the context of occult, irrational elements in Emerson, and unduly emphasize secularized and materialist sides of Emerson instead. This paper suggests a reading for Emerson’s Nature within the context of those elements overlooked by modern Emerson scholarship, that is, elements of occult religious irrationality. With these elements foregrounded, the “transparent eye-ball” is interpreted not merely as an expression of peaceful spiritual experience but also a signal of modernity’s desire for “transparency” or “rationality.” As revealed in the metaphor of the “Transparent eyeball, such a desire contributes to modernity’s anxiety. This paper demonstrates how modernity’s demand for rationality and the ancient occult desire for transcendence coincide in the concept of Emersonian power as expressed by the “transparent eye-ball.” And finally, it discusses how a totalitarian unconscious operates beneath Emerson’s sincere celebration of the “transparency” of idealism. 303 Irrational Rationalism in the Occult “Transparent Eyeball”: A Study on an Occult Idea in the Nineteenth Century America Key Words Occultism, Foucauldian Panoptic Power, Modernity’s Anxiety, Totalitarianism, Unconscious, Modern Rationality, “Transparent Eye-ball” 
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Clark Howell David Baltimore Paul A. Marks J. Michael Bishop Yasutomi Nishizuka William F. Brinkman Helen M. Ranney E. Margaret Burbidge Bengt Samuelsson Pierre-Gilles de Gennes Robert M. Solow Joseph L. Goldstein Edward C. Stone Mary L. Good James D. Watson Harry B. Gray Richard N. Zare *EDITORIAL Three Good Choices "An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, and no institution fits that description better than the government of a country. Whether the title is president or prime minister, the chief executive officer of a country is the major force in establishing its agenda and generating its ambiance. But governing a country is too big a job for one person to do alone, and the length of the shadow is largely influenced by the leader's appointments, who will then carry out his or her policies and provide the innovative new concepts that allow the implementation of his or her program. The Clinton Administration had some spectacular mishaps in its early appointments, but several recent appointments in the science area suggest that the quality of appointments is now recognized as a major stepping stone to future success. Three appointments in the National Institutes of Health, the National Science Foundation, and the Department of Energy have elicited the admiration of the scientific community and augur well for the future development of scientific programs by the Clinton Administration. The first of these is Harold Varmus, the nominee to be director of the National Insti- tutes of Health. He is a Nobel laureate and an individual who has already demonstrated a strong civic conscience, wide-ranging experience, and scientific leadership in two areas of major interest to NIH and of crucial importance in cancer and AIDS: oncogenes and retro- viruses. Varmus' background is almost unbelievably varied-an undergraduate major in En- glish literature who edited the school paper, became an M.D., worked 3 months at a mission hospital in northern India, began his scientific career at NIH, and then moved to a faculty position at the University of California at San Francisco, where his research has collected almost every honor available to a biological scientist. The second, Neal Lane, nominated to be director of the National Science Foundation, started his career as a physicist interested in theoretical studies of collision processes involv- ing electrons, atoms, and molecules. After attaining distinction as a physicist, he branched off into the administration of physics, serving in numerous roles in physics societies and on government advisory panels. He served as chancellor of the Colorado Springs campus of the University of Colorado before returning to Rice University as provost and professor of phys- ics. Solid experience as a primary researcher and an administrator of science appears an ideal background for the position of NSF director. The third, Martha Krebs, who has been nominated as director of research of the De- partment of Energy, has a background similar to that of Dr. Lane in being not only a fine scientist with emphasis in the field of physics but also an astute administrator who under- stands the ways of politics. In an agency with massive clean-up and transition problems, these skills will be of great value. These three excellent appointments, which have received resounding praise from the scientific community, provide a reflected glory to the individuals (Secretary of Health and Human Services Donna Shalala, the president's science adviser John Gibbons, and Secretary of Energy Hazel O'Leary) who established perceptive selection procedures and shepherded these appointments through the dangerous shoals of Washington bureaucracy. These ap- pointments establish the principle that it is possible to find individuals who combine diver- sity, civic responsibility, administrative ability, and professional excellence. In the highest reaches of government, where decisions are made that affect millions of people, it is right for the public to insist that individuals having these high posts have the highest level of judg- ment and wide expertise. Future decisions of the Clinton Administration will undoubtedly be helped enormously by this quality scientific leadership and the individuals may in concert help achieve the Administration's stated goals of more jobs, better health, and a higher standard of living. The Administration may avoid in the future the temporizing and vacilla- tion that has marked the poor compromises reached in the space station and the Super Collider decisions. Perhaps the luster of these appointees will even earn some respect from a Congress that in recent years has stepped beyond its correct role of establishing broad general goals to micromanaging of specific grants and administrative practices in science for which neither legal training nor campaign experience provides the appropriate expertise. The good news is that an excellent science team appears to be in formation and should be a great benefit to the Administration, the country, and the world. Daniel E. Koshland, Jr. SCIENCE * VOL. 261 * 27 AUGUST 1993 1099 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/ Three good choices DE Koshland Jr DOI: 10.1126/science.8356440 (5125), 1099.261Science ARTICLE TOOLS http://science.sciencemag.org/content/261/5125/1099.citation PERMISSIONS http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions Terms of ServiceUse of this article is subject to the is a registered trademark of AAAS.ScienceScience, 1200 New York Avenue NW, Washington, DC 20005. The title (print ISSN 0036-8075; online ISSN 1095-9203) is published by the American Association for the Advancement ofScience No claim to original U.S. Government Works. Copyright © 1993 The Authors, some rights reserved; exclusive licensee American Association for the Advancement of Science. o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 h ttp ://scie n ce .scie n ce m a g .o rg / D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://science.sciencemag.org/content/261/5125/1099.citation http://www.sciencemag.org/help/reprints-and-permissions http://www.sciencemag.org/about/terms-service http://science.sciencemag.org/ 
work_ak7escpqtjcyxbbvdyqvzenme4	----	MergedFile Review: “The ‘Conspiracy’ of Free Trade. The Anglo-American Struggle over Empire and Economic Globalization, 1846–1896” by Marc-William Palen Author: Dennis Kölling Stable URL: http://www.globalhistories.com/index.php/GHSJ/article/view/68 DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.17169/GHSJ.2016.68 Source: Global Histories, Vol. 2, No. 1 (Oct. 2016), pp. 96–99 ISSN: 2366-780X Copyright © 2016 Dennis Kölling License URL: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Publisher information: ‘Global Histories: A Student Journal’ is an open-access bi-annual journal founded in 2015 by students of the M.A. program Global History at Freie Universität Berlin and Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin. ‘Global Histories’ is published by an editorial board of Global History students in association with the Freie Universität Berlin. Freie Universität Berlin Global Histories: A Student Journal Friedrich-Meinecke-Institut Koserstraße 20 14195 Berlin Contact information: For more information, please consult our website www.globalhistories.com or contact the editor at: admin@globalhistories.com. http://www.globalhistories.com/index.php/GHSJ/article/view/68 http://dx.doi.org/10.17169/GHSJ.2016.68 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://www.globalhistories.com/ mailto:admin@globalhistories.com 96 The “Conspiracy” of Free Trade: The Anglo-American Struggle over Empire and Economic Globalization, 1846- 1896 By Marc-William Palen, Cambridge UK; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Pp. 331, Hardback $99.99, ISBN: 978-1-107-10912-4 REVIEWED BY DENNIS KÖLLING Dennis Kölling holds an undergraduate degree in North American Studies from the John-F.- Kennedy-Institute at Freie Universität Berlin and is studying in the MA program in Global His- tory at Freie Universität Berlin and Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin. He is currently spending a semester abroad at Vanderbilt University. His main research interests include the Global Cold War, modern cultural history with a focus on meanings of music, and the history of the interplay of executive, legislative, and judiciary in US American Foreign Policy. While in the last few decades the United States was regarded by many as the most vocal proponent of neoliberal economic policy and international trade de- regulation, recent criticisms arising from heated debates around trade agreements such as TTIP, TPP, and CETA, as well as the Sanders and Trump 2016 campaigns’ flirtation with protectionism, have shown that US free trade policy still remains a divisive and relevant issue today. Marc-William Palen, in his book The “Con- spiracy” of Free Trade, explores this historic struggle, framing his study around free trade and protectionism in the United States during the nineteenth century, and contextualizing the rise of liberal economic thinking within Anglo-American relations. Palen’s monograph aims at deconstructing common historical depic- tions of the nineteenth century as a ‘laissez-faire era’ in domestic economic policy with little control by a ‘weak’ state. Palen instead emphasizes the prevalence of economic nationalism and restrictive policies aimed at protecting the American market, including high protective tariffs, restrictions on immigration, and federal subsidization. He then follows a growing movement of British-influenced cos- mopolitan free traders, opposing protectionist policies in the public discourse and in the government’s policy conduct. Palen’s work ultimately serves as a major contribution to the economic and imperial history of the United States, as he lays out a variety of original claims, challenging the way the rise of American informal empire has been portrayed in historiography. The genesis of the division between prevalent protectionists and struggling free traders in American history has been widely overlooked by the dominant strand of scholarly publications in economic and diplomatic history, advocating the nar- rative of the US as an ‘open door’ empire. Notably, the Wisconsin school of dip- lomatic history and its revisionist founder William Appleman Williams have es- 97 Global Histories Volume ii october 2016 Review: The “Conspiracy” of Free Trade tablished the tradition of describing the US as an ‘empire of free trade’, pursuing liberal economic policies in world politics in order to maintain informal, capitalist imperial ambitions. Palen’s foremost and most original claim stresses that the idea of an ‘empire of free trade’ neglects the prominence of protectionism in the United States govern- ment during the nineteenth century. He proposes instead that US economic policy in that period is better described as the ‘imperialism of economic nationalism’, forcing access to foreign markets while staying protective at home. Palen supports his argument by tracing the debate surrounding free trade and protectionism to an ideological battle between ‘Cobdenites’ and ‘Listians’. ‘Cob- denites’ subscribed to the economic thinking of British reformer Richard Cobden, leading thinker of the Manchester school of economic liberalism. ‘Listians’ on the other hand drew inspiration from the German economist Friedrich List, main proponent of the German Zollverein and one of the first economists to argue for an Entwicklungsökonomie – proposing that economically underdeveloped nations like France, Germany, and the US would be able to catch up with developed na- tions like the British empire inside a system of protective tariffs only. Palen illus- trates how both Cobdenites and Listians saw free trade as a sort of economic goal, but Cobdenites wanted to establish a free trade economy modeled after the British system right away, while Listians stressed the importance of only establishing free trade policies between equally developed countries. Palen successfully links Cobdenite ideology to intellectuals like William Cul- len Bryant, Edward Atkinson, and Henry Ward Beecher, all of whom were in the latter half of the nineteenth century organized into the so-called ‘Cobden Clubs’ that were founded in England and the US. He furthermore argues that these intel- lectuals were invested in abolitionism and then traces the rise of free trade senti- ment in the Republican Party before and during the Civil War in connection to the party’s abolitionist stance. He finally identifies an estrangement of free traders from the Republican Party following the end of the Civil War resulting in a party realignment that became widely visible in the 1884 elections when many former Cobdenite Republicans voted for the Democrat Grover Cleveland. Palen’s book is structured chronologically and greatly illustrates the ideolog- ical battle between Cobdenites and Listians in the American party system, the press, and even popular culture. Palen’s narrative draws upon a wide variety of sources ranging from personal communication between intellectuals involved in the ideological battle, various press articles from newspapers engaging in the de- bate, to the writings of authors such as Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Em- erson, and Edward Bellamy. The “Conspiracy” of Free Trade contributes widely to the history of the American party system by connecting the realignment of the Republican Party to its prevalent protectionist members, with the Cobdenites as “mugwumps” moving to the Democratic Party as a result. Global Histories Volume ii october 2016 98 Dennis Kölling As a second big claim, Palen links the ideology of Listian protectionism to a sentiment of Anglophobia, which served as the basis of various ‘conspiracies’ surrounding free traders in the US during the 19th Century. While Palen’s use of archival sources illustrates greatly how Listians linked Cobdenities to British money and accused them of promoting free trade as agents of the British empire, he falls short of defining the very term ‘conspiracy theory’ and connecting it to the wide array of scholarly research in that respective realm. In the end, Palen’s allusion to conspiracy, already present in the title, fails to be properly addressed in his monograph. Another shortcoming of his book is its failure to provide a truly global narrative of the intellectual networks he proposes. While Palen connects the story of the battle between Cobdenites and Listians to the globalization of ideas and elabo- rates widely on the influence of American tariff policies on a global scale, he fails to address perspectives from countries outside the Anglo-American realm. He discusses Canadian and Australian Cobdenites and Listians in detail in the sixth chapter of his book, but neglects to look into more detail as to how reformers in Latin America reacted to the US imperialist policy of forcing access to markets. He acknowledges the influence of Listian economics on the Meiji period in Japan but then does not provide any further information about how the Japanese reform- ers interacted with the network of globally connected Listian thinkers he proposes. However, it has to be said that Palen does state from the beginning that his focus will center on the influence of Cobdenism and Listian economics on the Anglo- American relationship. Ultimately, the globally-connected network approach he chose deserves further academic attention and the integration of intellectuals from a wider array of national backgrounds. Despite these shortcomings, Palen very originally ties the debate within the US to the history of American imperialism, keeping in mind its global implications. He succeeds in showing how Cobdenites, despite their adherence to worldwide free trade, were very much invested in cosmopolitan anti-imperialist movements. His evaluation therefore does not only serve as a great contribution to the history of domestic economic policy in the United States but also challenges the way American empire building is perceived in a global history of modern imperialism. Scholars of global history should especially embrace Palen’s eighth chapter Free Trade in Retreat in which he traces the global implications of the protectionist McKinley Tariff of 1890 and furthermore links the policy to rising demands for a ‘Greater Britain’ pursuing protectionist policies all over the British empire. The Conspiracy of Free Trade serves as a fresh take on the history of the Ameri- can party system and the economic relationship with Great Britain. Its compelling narrative illustrates greatly the struggle around trade liberalization and empire that was prevalent in the nineteenth century United States. The book challenges the traditional notion of an ‘open door empire’ and instead proposes a new take on US imperialism by emphasizing protection at home and the forced access to 99 Global Histories Volume ii october 2016 Review: The “Conspiracy” of Free Trade markets abroad. Global historians and practitioners working on the history of the American party system alike should consider this publication when researching historical economic dynamics in the United States and positioning these in the context of a globalizing Anglo-American realm. 
work_ao3zuci7ljdixod5mo6zamho7y	----	Untitled ANANTARATNAPRABHAVA STUDI IN ONORE DI GIULIANO BOCCALI a cura di Alice Crisanti, Cinzia Pieruccini, Chiara Policardi, Paola M. Rossi II Consonanze 11.2 Anantaratnaprabhava Studi in onore di Giuliano Boccali A cura di Alice Crisanti, Cinzia Pieruccini Chiara Policardi, Paola M. Rossi II LEDIZIONI CONSONANZE Collana del Dipartimento di Studi Letterari, Filologici e Linguistici dell’Università degli Studi di Milano diretta da Giuseppe Lozza 11.2 Comitato Scientifico Benjamin Acosta-Hughes (The Ohio State University), Giampiera Arrigoni (Uni- versità degli Studi di Milano), Johannes Bartuschat (Universität Zürich), Alfonso D’Agostino (Università degli Studi di Milano), Maria Luisa Doglio (Università de- gli Studi di Torino), Bruno Falcetto (Università degli Studi di Milano), Alessandro Fo (Università degli Studi di Siena), Luigi Lehnus (Università degli Studi di Mila- no), Maria Luisa Meneghetti (Università degli Studi di Milano), Michael Metzeltin (Universität Wien), Silvia Morgana (Università degli Studi di Milano), Laurent Pernot (Université de Strasbourg), Simonetta Segenni (Università degli Studi di Milano), Luca Serianni (Sapienza Università di Roma), Francesco Spera (Universi- tà degli Studi di Milano), Renzo Tosi (Università degli Studi di Bologna) Comitato di Redazione Guglielmo Barucci, Francesca Berlinzani, Maddalena Giovannelli, Cecilia Nobili, Stefano Resconi, Luca Sacchi, Francesco Sironi ISBN 978-88-6705-680-4 In copertina: Rāvaṇānugrahamūrti, Ellora, Grotta 29, VII-VIII sec. ca. (Foto C. P.) Impaginazione: Alice Crisanti © 2017 Ledizioni – LEDIpublishing Via Alamanni, 11 20141 Milano, Italia www.ledizioni.it È vietata la riproduzione, anche parziale, con qualsiasi mezzo effettuata, compresa la fotocopia, anche a uso interno o didattico, senza la regolare autorizzazione. INDICE VOLUME PRIMO p. 7 Note introduttive Veda e Iran antico, lingua e grammatica 13 Fra lessico e grammatica. I nomi dell’acqua nell’indiano antico e altrove Romano Lazzeroni (Università di Pisa) 23 Questioni di dialettologia antico indiana e l’indo-ario del regno di Mitanni Saverio Sani (Università di Pisa) 31 Chanson de toile. Dall’India di Guido Gozzano all’India vedica Rosa Ronzitti (Università degli Studi di Genova) 41 Abitatori vedici dell'acqua Daniele Maggi (Università degli Studi di Macerata) 63 A Curious Semantic Hapax in the Āśvalāyanaśrautasūtra: The Priest Hotr̥ as the Chariot of the Gods (devaratha) in a Courageous Metaphor Pietro Chierichetti, PhD 77 On Some Systems of Marking the Vedic Accent in Manuscripts Written in the Grantha Script Marco Franceschini (Università di Bologna) 89 Cobra e pavoni. Il ruolo linguistico e retorico di A 2.1.72 Maria Piera Candotti (Università di Pisa), Tiziana Pontillo (Università degli Studi di Cagliari) 107 Subjecthood in Pāṇini’s Grammatical Tradition Artemij Keidan (Sapienza Università di Roma) 127 Sull’uso didattico di alcuni subhāṣita Alberto Pelissero (Università degli Studi di Torino) 137 Avestico rec. pasuuāzah-. Vecchie e nuove considerazioni a proposito dell’immolazione animale nella ritualistica indo-iranica Antonio Panaino (Università di Bologna) 153 Khotanese baṣṣä and bihaḍe Mauro Maggi (Sapienza Università di Roma) Religioni, testi e tradizioni 165 ‘As a She-Elephant, I Have Broken the Tie’. Notes on the Therī-apadāna-s Antonella Serena Comba (Università degli Studi di Torino) 183 Le Therī e Māra il Maligno: il buddhismo al femminile Daniela Rossella (Università degli Studi della Basilicata) 195 Asceti e termitai. A proposito di Buddhacarita 7, 15 Antonio Rigopoulos (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia) 217 Alla ricerca del divino: figure ascetiche e modelli sapienziali nella tradizione non ortodossa dell’India e della Grecia antica Paola Pisano 231 A proposito del kāśīyoga dello Skanda-purāṇa Stefano Piano (Università degli Studi di Torino) 241 Della follia d’amore e divina nella letteratura tamiḻ classica e medievale Emanuela Panattoni (Università di Pisa) 255 “The Poetry of Thought” in the Theology of the Tripurārahasya Silvia Schwarz Linder (Universität Leipzig) 267 Cultural Elaborations of Eternal Polarities: Travels of Heroes, Ascetics and Lovers in Early Modern Hindi Narratives Giorgio Milanetti (Sapienza Università di Roma) 287 Fra passioni umane e attrazioni divine: alcune considerazioni sul concetto di ‘ishq nella cultura letteraria urdū Thomas Dähnhardt (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia) 309 Il sacrificio della satī e la «crisi della presenza» Bruno Lo Turco (Sapienza Università di Roma) 321 Jñānavāpī tra etnografia e storia. Note di ricerca su un pozzo al centro dei pellegrinaggi locali di Varanasi Vera Lazzaretti (Universitetet i Oslo) 335 Cakra. Proposte di rilettura nell’ambito della didattica dello yoga Marilia Albanese (YANI) Appendice 349 Critical Edition of the Ghaṭakharparaṭīkā Attributed to Tārācandra Francesco Sferra (Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”) 391 Tabula gratulatoria VOLUME SECONDO Filosofie 9 The “Frame” Status of Veda-Originated Knowledge in Mīmāṃsā Elisa Freschi (Universität Wien) 21 Diventare è ricordare. Una versione indiana dell’anamnesi Paolo Magnone (Università Cattolica del Sacro Cuore, Milano) 33 Sull’epistemologia del sogno secondo il Vaiśeṣika. Appunti per una tassonomia del fenomeno onirico Gianni Pellegrini (Università degli Studi di Torino) 45 Coscienza e realtà. Il problema ontologico e l’insegnamento di Vasubandhu Emanuela Magno (Università degli Studi di Padova) 57 Contro la purità brahmanica: lo Śivaismo non-duale e il superamento di śaṅkā ‘esitazione’, ‘inibizione’ Raffaele Torella (Sapienza Università di Roma) 69 La cimosa e il ‘nichilista’. Fra ontologia, evacuazione e neutralizzazione dei segni figurali in Nāgārjuna Federico Squarcini (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia) 87 Poesia a sostegno dell’inferenza: analisi di alcuni passi scelti dal Vyaktiviveka di Mahimabhaṭṭa Stefania Cavaliere (Università degli Studi di Napoli “L’Orientale”) 107 La ricezione dell’indianistica nella filosofia italiana di fine Ottocento. Il caso di Piero Martinetti Alice Crisanti, PhD 121 Prospettive comparatistiche tra storia della filosofia ed estetica indiana Mimma Congedo, PhD Paola M. Rossi (Università degli Studi di Milano), Palazzi, templi e immagini 147 Descrizioni architettoniche in alcuni testi indiani Fabrizia Baldissera (Università degli Studi di Firenze) 163 Devī uvāca, Maheśvara uvāca. Some Katyuri Representations of Umāmaheśvara and the Śaivism of Uttarakhand Laura Giuliano (Museo Nazionale d’Arte Orientale ‘Giuseppe Tucci’) 185 Bundi. Corteo regale in onore del Dio bambino Rosa Maria Cimino (Università del Salento) Tra ieri e oggi. Letteratura e società 213 La miniaturizzazione dell’ānanda tāṇḍava di Śiva in talune poesie indiane del ’900 Donatella Dolcini (Università degli Studi di Milano) 229 Rabindranath Tagore. The Infinite in the Human Being Fabio Scialpi (Sapienza Università di Roma) 239 Minority Subjectivities in Kuṇāl Siṃh’s Hindi Novel Romiyo Jūliyaṭ aur Aṁdherā Alessandra Consolaro (Università degli Studi di Torino) 249 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth”: When the Twain Do Meet Alessandro Vescovi (Università degli Studi di Milano) 261 La ‘Donna di Sostanza’ si è opposta ai ‘Miracoli del Destino’: casi celebri in materia di diritto d’autore in India Lorenza Acquarone, PhD 273 «Only consideration is a good girl». Uno sguardo sulla società contemporanea indiana attraverso un’analisi degli annunci matrimoniali Sabrina Ciolfi, PhD 285 L’arte abita in periferia Maria Angelillo (Università degli Studi di Milano) 297 Alcune considerazioni preliminari allo studio delle comunità indigene (ādivāsī) d’India oggi Stefano Beggiora (Università Ca’ Foscari Venezia) Studi sul Tibet 319 La Preghiera di Mahāmudrā del Terzo Karma pa Rang byung rdo rje Carla Gianotti 341 The Dharmarājas of Gyantsé. Their Indian and Tibetan Masters, and the Iconography of the Main Assembly Hall in Their Vihāra Erberto F. Lo Bue (Università di Bologna) 361 In Search of Lamayuru’s dkar chag Elena De Rossi Filibeck (Sapienza Università di Roma) 375 Torrente di gioventù. Il manifesto della poesia tibetana moderna Giacomella Orofino (Università degli Studi di Napoli “L'Orientale”) 395 Tabula gratulatoria Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth”: When the Twain Do Meet Alessandro Vescovi «Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet». Surely, when Rudyard Kipling wrote this line in 1895, he could not imagine that a century later it would sound hilarious to two million Indian migrants in the USA, who have become an unprecedented blend of the two civilizations. “Unaccustomed Earth” by Jhumpa Lahiri is a story that tells exactly this: how East and West have met. Jhumpa Lahiri was born in 1967 in London to Bengali parents, and subsequently brought up in Rhode Island, within a circle of expatriate Bengali academics. She has become an internationally acclaimed writer with her first collection of short stories, Interpreter of Maladies, which won her the Pulitzer Prize in 2000. She is the first writer of Indian descent to win the prestigious prize in the fiction cate- gory. Her second book, the novel The Namesake (2003) won international rec- ognition and was made into a movie by Mira Nair in 2006, while her third and fourth literary enterprises – the collection of stories Unaccustomed Earth (2008) and the novel The Lowland (2013) – were translated into most European and In- dian languages. As Lavina Dhingra and Floyd Cheung (2012) point out, Jhumpa Lahiri is one of the few writers that are widely read by both the general public, the academics, and ethnic minorities. This success probably depends on Lahiri’s own inability to define herself as either an American or an Indian woman, let alone an American or an Indian writer. While migration, exile, displacement, generational conflicts are nothing new in the literary panorama, the experience of second-gen- eration high caste Bengali migrants in the US is actually unprecedented. For the first time in history, a group of highly educated and well-to-do people have sought migration out of a deliberate act, retaining the possibility of keeping in touch with their motherland. Since they always had the possibility of going back to India, they renewed their choice of living in America year after year, postponing their return until retirement. Emotionally, these migrants were poised between the enthusiasm for the profes- sional possibilities that opened up in America and a kind of nostalgia for the land they had left behind; in fact, in the first generation this division is also gendered: men would be more likely to pursue a career, while women would rather stay at home to mourn and make up for their loss. Their equally privileged children, the 250 Alessandro Vescovi generation to which Jhumpa Lahiri belongs, were the first to grow up polarized between East and West, between American playmates and Indian families, rock bands and Bollywood music, consumerism and frugality, hamburgers and curry, individualism and family commitment. Most of Lahiri’s stories1 describe dichot- omies whereby house and family are the domain of the woman of the house, and men go out to earn a living. Women keep up traditions and connections with the homeland, cooking Indian food, wearing Indian clothes, and observing festivities; men are supposed to be more integrated into the host society, working within the American establishment. This distribution of family duties is a natural prosecu- tion of a trend initiated in colonial India back in the nineteenth century. As the historian Dipesh Chakrabarty argues in his Provincializing Europe, the division of tasks between men and women had started when the timing of modern produc- tion began to clash with the timing of daily rituals. Men could no longer afford to stay at home and observe rituals, thus they felt allowed to go outside, eat for- bidden food if need arose, and waive time-consuming rituals. As a balance to this infringement of traditions, women were supposed to preserve the sacredness of the familial abode, bringing grihalakshmi, or domestic harmony.2 Women were asked to foster familial ties in order to preserve the vitality of the clan, and were likewise supposed to preserve the traditions and educate children to them. For this reason, Chakrabarty (2000) observes, women were sometimes the most strenuous defend- ers of customs such as purdah, or even sati. Thus it was natural that, once abroad, it fell on women to stay at home with children and make it a quaint harbour where their husbands could find a little India. However, as it happened also in Bengal, this division of work created some tensions, if we are to believe the small worlds depicted by Jhumpa Lahiri and Chitra Divakaruni. In fact, it came to pass that men urged their wives to become more westernized and less steeped in traditional In- dian habits, especially when it came to social occasions when American colleagues were involved. The old tension so well described by Tagore in The Home and the World, where the newly wedded Nikhil urged Bimala to leave the purdah and go into the world, was bound to repeat itself over and again in America. Jhumpa Lahiri’s world is a cosmopolitan space that has its centre in New Eng- land, but stretches from the Andaman Islands and Kolkata to Canada, including Europe (and Italy in particular), inhabited by first and second generation Benga- li bhadralok expatriates. Through her novels and short stories, readers familiarize with this third space (Farshid 2013) to the point of finding it familiar, as it hap- pens with Narayan’s Malgudi or Faulkner’s Yoknapatawpha (Caesar 2005). The 1. The novel The Lowland is a most notable exception. 2. Grihalakshmi literally means “Lakshmi of the house”; indeed, women were supposed to pos- sess all the virtues of Lakshmi, including beauty, silence and tolerance. 251 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” characters who inhabit this “unaccustomed earth”, which is neither Indian nor American, strike the ordinary reader with their very normalcy. Yet, the exceptional predicament of their surrounding creates a kind of laboratory, where ordinary pas- sions and conflicts can be tested and viewed under a new light. Possibly because she belongs to a cultural elite, or because the turmoil of colonization and decoloniza- tion is too far from New England, Jhumpa is neither a postcolonial nor a political writer in the narrow sense, but she is a cosmopolite rather committed to humanism (Srikanth 2012, Cardozo 2012). Her characters face ordinary illusions and delusions, encounter love and death and all the usual adventures and misadventures that life reserves to the middle class, but to the ordinary reader they look fresh and fascinat- ing. Besides Lahiri’s ability as a writer, there are two reasons why readers that are neither Indian nor American find her stories so intriguing. The first is that they shed light on the unique predicament of these Bengali migrants; the second that this very predicament, once absorbed, allows a deeper understanding of ordinary life also outside that setting. The first crush, a betrayal, or a generational conflict become all the more poignant when observed in this unique milieu. What makes the experience even more interesting is the fact that Lahiri’s characters cannot rely on any older generation, they experience things for the first time and discover the exceptionality of their predicament with the same eager curiosity of their readers. Considering the privileged position of New England in the map of Lahiri’s world, it is no wonder that three genii loci surface in her stories now and again; I am of course referring to Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), and Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), three nineteenth-century in- tellectuals, who shaped the American collective attitude towards metaphysics, lit- erature and Nature. Hawthorne, the author of several collections of short stories, among which the celebrated Twice Told Tales (1837), presides over Lahiri’s second book from the very title. The title phrase “unaccustomed earth” comes from a passage of “The Cus- tom House”, the apocryphal preface to The Scarlet Letter, where Hawthorne’s fictional narrator states that: Human nature will not flourish, any more than a potato, if it be planted and re- planted, for too long a series of generations, in the same worn-out soil. My children have had other birthplaces, and, so far as their fortunes may be within my control, shall strike their roots into unaccustomed earth.3 This quotation serves as epigraph to the whole collection. As Jeffrey Bilbro (Bilbro 2013) justly points out, the predicament of Hawthorne was in a way similar to that 3. Hawthorne 2014, 15. 252 Alessandro Vescovi of second generation migrants, who do have a venerable tradition behind them, but feel that they have to move on, finding new individual paths without totally rejecting their fathers’ heritage. The title story, which will form the object of the present essay, consistently re- counts the different but somehow symmetrical uprootings of the main characters, Ruma and her father – a second and first generation migrant, a woman and a man. Ruma is in her late thirties, at a time when she has just left New England and her job as lawyer to follow her husband to Seattle, in Washington State; her first son, Akash, was born three years earlier in New York, where she worked as lawyer, and she is now expecting another baby. Adam, her American husband, has a corporate job and is often away on business, so that Ruma feels rather lonely in her new house, without friends or relatives. Besides, her mother has recently and unexpect- edly died. Consequently, Ruma’s father, whose name is not given, has moved into a smaller apartment and has found a new companion, Mrs Bagchi, during a tour to Europe. The short story covers seven days when the elderly man is visiting Ruma and Akash in their new abode. Before her father’s arrival, the woman was worried that he expected to move in with her, on the assumption that it was her filial duty to look after him in old age. Things turn out to be rather different; the 70-years- old parent has found a new balance in his life and has no desire to move into his daughter’s household. However, during the time he spends there, he proves a per- fect father and grandfather, always caring but never obtrusive. He looks after Ru- ma’s garden, buying flowers and plants, and tends the garden with little Akash. In her loneliness, Ruma wishes that her father stayed with them, but he refuses. The narrative’s point of view shifts continuously from Ruma’s to her father’s, revealing their present thoughts and their different pasts. While Ruma thinks back to her adolescence as a period when she had to assert herself against her parents’ vetoes, seeking American rather than Indian values, she is surprised to see that, after all, her life ended up looking like her secluded moth- er’s. She has become a homemaker, mostly alone, with two children to raise in an alien land. Ironically enough, it is her father who alerts her to the risks of losing contact with American values. Halfway through his stay in Seattle, he finds the op- portunity and the words to give vent to his preoccupations about her career. The ensuing dialogue is the very opposite of what Ruma may have expected. “And you? Have you found work in the new place?” “Part-time litigation work is hard to find”, she said. “In order to practice here you will have to take another bar exam?” her father asked. “No. There’s reciprocity with New York”. “Then why not look for a new job?” 253 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” “I am not ready yet, Baba”. […] “maybe when the new baby starts kindergarten”. “But that’s over five years from now. Now is the time for you to be working, build- ing your career”. (UE, 36)4 The absence of exclamation marks in the dialogue shows that both Ruma and her father are trying to keep a calm, almost casual tone, especially because this dialogue takes place in a car, in the presence of little Akash. Still, after a few hours, the old man resumes the discussion comparing Ruma to himself and not to his late wife, as Ruma would rather often do: “Work is important, Ruma. Not only for financial stability. For mental stability. All my life, since I have been sixteen, I have been working”. […] “Self-reliance is important, Ruma”, he continued. “Life is full of surprises. Today you can depend on Adam, on Adam’s job. Tomorrow who knows”. (UE, 37) The compound word «self-reliance» has a venerable tradition in America well beyond New England; it is the title of the second essay in the collection that Ralph Waldo Emerson, one of the fathers of American Transcendentalism, published under the bare title of Essays. It is the year 1840 and Emerson – a former minis- ter, teacher and preacher now turned an independent lecturer – is reforming Pu- ritanical doctrines with the suggestions that he derived from Wordsworth, Carlyle and German thinkers like Fichte and Novalis. The “essays” that form his book are nothing new for the people of Concord, where he lives, as he has been expounding his ideas in the form of lectures for years, but his words are destined to enter the DNA of American people. Harold Bloom (2006) singles out this particular essay as the constituent of a distinct American religion. According to Bloom, while Pu- ritanism posited a God outside Man, Emerson, through his idea of Nature, for the first time in the West preached a religion whereby God is within Man. In the published version, Emerson took care to maintain a vivid style, full of imperatives that unfailingly surprise readers. In the collection, he juxtaposed essays in order to create the maximum contrast: the opening chapter is a meditation on the collective experience of the race (“History”), immediately followed by an essay on the indi- vidual (“Self-Reliance”); an advice for worldly success (“Prudence”) is compensat- ed by an exhortation to despise it. Yet the paradoxical nature of the essays is such that they do not contradict but rather reinforce each other. According to Emerson, self-reliance is an assault against the obstacles that impede the development of hu- man soul. The first of these obstacles is fear of common opinion, so that instead of 4. Lahiri 2008a, 3-59. All references, henceforward indicated as UE, are to this edition. 254 Alessandro Vescovi pursuing Truth (or their own Nature, which is all the same to him) people end up pursuing general acceptance. «Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist» runs a much-quoted aphorism in the essay. It is not important what we do, but why we do it; as long as we follow our nature and not the general opinion in do- ing things, we are developing our soul and attaining spiritual freedom. «The only right is what is after my constitution, the only wrong what is against it» proclaims Emerson. As for work, a subject very close to the heart of Ruma’s father, Emerson writes that «A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and has done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise, shall give him no peace». Work is the propelling force that saves man from the abyss and makes him closer to God. In a more secular, but not altogether different way, Ruma’s father worries that his daughter might not feel well because apparently she has little pleasure in staying at home and is not looking for a job either. It may seem contradictory that the man who had allowed his wife to stay at home all the time while he was at work is now advising her daughter against it, but the contradiction is only outward. In fact, Ruma’s mother relished her staying at home and looking after the house, this is what she had expected as a bride and the work in which she would “put her heart”. In Emerson’s words, we could say that she was following her nature, or we could say that she was performing her duty by accepting her karman. Ruma’s case is different from her mother’s because she does not enjoy being at home, and would feel better, so her father thinks, if she did the job for which she was trained. Now Ruma is trying to resemble her mother, which can only end up in a disaster. Emerson and Ruma’s father would doubtless agree with the Gita’s precept that One’s own Law (dharma) imperfectly observed is better than another’s Law carried out with perfection. As long as one does the work set by nature, he does not incur blame. (Bhagavad Gita 18.47, transl. van Buitenen 2013) This dharmic attitude is hardly surprising in a high-caste Indian man. In fact, In- dian and American doctrines chime; the same thought is expressed in Emerson’s essay, where the American philosopher advises «Accept the place that the divine Providence has found for you; the society of your contemporaries, the connexion of events. Great men have always done so, and confided themselves childlike to the genius of their age…». The American Unitarian tradition can apparently accom- modate at least part of the Advaita Vedanta philosophy. In depicting Ruma’s parent, Jhumpa Lahiri was probably thinking of her own father about whom she wrote: 255 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” In many ways [my father] is a spiritual descendant of America’s earliest Puritan settlers; thrifty, hard-working, plain in his habits. […] He also embodies the values of two New England’s greatest thinkers, demonstrating a profound lack of materi- alism and self-reliance that would have made Thoreau and Emerson proud. (Lahiri 2008b, 397) These words are contained in a short prose piece entitled Rhode Island, which ap- peared in 2008, the same year as Unaccustomed Earth.5 Here Lahiri mentions that her father loves gardening, another point of contact with the character. Gardening is also a matching image for a story about roots (Saxena 2012), and the activity that most intimately connects the old man with Thoreau, who used to live in a cabin next to Walden Pond – a place explicitly mentioned in “Hell-Heaven”, another short story from the same collection – and cultivate his own food. In his essence, Ruma’s father embodies a modern, secular version of a sannya- sin. Once his life as a family-man is over, he retires to a tiny apartment, where he takes only a few things. He no longer cares for a big house «that would only fill up with things over the years», he muses. «Life grew to a certain point. The point he had reached now». From this moment on, he is trying to strip himself from all life connections, be they objects or people. He has a very loose affair with a Bengali woman, Mrs Bagchi, whom he only sees when they are on organized tours, and they are both content with this distant relationship. At a point he feels tempted to stay on in Seattle, and build a solid relationship with his grandson, but he knows that it is no longer the time for depending on other people, and decides to leave instead – to accept his own kismet, destiny, one might say. Comparing his past life with the life of his three-year-old grandson, he cannot help thinking that the boy will eventually leave his family and realizes that «he, too, had turned his back on his parents, by settling in America. In the name of ambition and accomplishment, none of which mattered anymore». His relation with food is also interesting in this respect. Most migrants tend to retain their culi- nary habits in the host country, but Indians, because of the many food taboos and the use of food to distinguish castes and religions, are particularly sensitive about this subject (Martin-Rodriguez 2000, Kunow 2003, Mehta 2011, Roy 2002). Thus food, together with clothing, becomes a matter of confrontation between moth- ers and daughters. Typically, second generation teenagers would steal more or less secretly to some fast-food restaurant to eat hamburgers with their American peers, while their mothers would rather have them in the kitchen folding samosas and rolling gulab jamuns. Ruma’s mother had been no exception, being a scrupulous cook, she used to prepare elaborated meals for the family. Dinners were used also 5. I am grateful to Angelo Monaco for pointing this rare book out to me. 256 Alessandro Vescovi to mark family hierarchies, another typically Indian custom (Sekaran 2011); no one, the narrator points out, was allowed to eat until the father arrived. During her father’s visit, Ruma tries to please him with Indian meals that, predictably, do not turn out as good as her mother’s. Her mother had been an excellent cook. […] Ruma’s cooking didn’t come close, the vegetables sliced too thickly, the rice overdone, but as her father worked his way through the things she’d made, he repeatedly told her how delicious it was. (UE, 22) And yet, to Ruma’s astonishment, it hardly seems to matter to her father now. “Sorry the begunis (deep fried aubergines) broke apart”, she added. “I didn’t let the oil get hot enough”. “It doesn’t matter. Try it”, he told Akash. (UE, 23) There may be three reasons why the father is so casual about food now; the sim- plest is that he really appreciates his daughter’s efforts and tries to be supportive of her since he sees that she is having a rough time. This is all the more remarkable when we think of his former attitude towards food. Following Ruma’s train of thought, the narrator informs us that her father had been rather fastidious about meals cooked by people other than his wife: whenever they were invited at some friends’, he would complain about the food on the way home. However, through a conversation on what he ate during a trip to Italy, he again appears uninterested in any particular delicacy; indeed, he admits bluntly that he mostly ate pizza. His lack of interest for food should then be searched in his new predicament as (Non-Res- ident) Indian retired widower. Since he is no longer a family man (grihastha), he does not care to establish his position within the family hierarchy or even to show appreciation for his feminine counterpart, grihalakshmi. The third reason, not un- connected with the foregoing, has to do with the ashrama system; ashrama means step, and refers to the different stages of a man’s life, as student (brahmacharya), family man (grihastha), retired (vanaprastha) and ascetic (sannyasin). The va- naprastha retains some family obligation, but with a view to his final liberation from earthly objects; this is a preparation phase like the brahmacharya: a man must train himself to become a renouncer. He is still part of the family, but he has given up all major responsibilities; in the next phase he will leave the family altogether. As Patrick Olivelle (2011) points out, for renouncers food should only come in the form of alms, in some cases even raw, in order to afford bare nourishment, but not physical pleasure. Therefore, sannyasins who live on alms cannot expect to eat what they want, nor can they be fastidious about what they get. Similarly, as though in 257 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” preparation, Ruma’s father now cares little for the pleasure of food even when he is on his own or on holyday. Before leaving at the end of his sojourn in Seattle, Ruma’s father briefs the daughter about the work he has been doing in the garden, giving advice on how of- ten to water the flowers and how to use the fertilizer. Eventually he warns her about the hydrangea, which «won’t bloom much this year. The flowers will be pink or blue depending on the acidity of the soil. You’ll have to prune it back eventually» (UE, 51). It is hard not to think of the hydrangea as a metaphor for young Akash, the grandson, or for any second generation migrant, whose roots have stricken into a new, unaccustomed earth, and whose future is therefore unpredictable. The story, however, provides insights also on the transformative power of alien soils for those who reach them after their maturity; Ruma’s father has certainly been changed by the new surroundings, so much so that his frugality could be read as nihilism or individualism, or puritanism. I believe that through this character the story hints at a fecund encounter between Indian and American philosophical systems. The story itself is a kind of non-academic essay in comparative philosophy, which ex- amines different systems not within their own milieu, but at work – in the actu- ality of people’s lives. Ralph Waldo Emerson was aware of the analogies between Trascendentalism and the Vedantic tradition, so that he found the Bhagavad Gita and the Upanishads a most interesting reading. However, it should be said that he became aware of the analogies only after developing his own system (Goodman 1990). Similarly, at the end of the century, Gandhi would develop his Satyagraha before reading Thoreau’s seminal essay Civil Disobedience (1849), written on the occasion on the Mexican war. In both cases, one cannot talk of any direct influence, but rather of convergence.6 The latter may well be disappointing to historians, but is of paramount importance to humanists. Such is Jhumpa Lahiri, who, in her text, offers an insight into a successful migration story that is deeply grounded in culture and not simply – as it more often happens – in personal success. If ever migration was traumatic (Ling 2014) to Ruma’s father, he has been able to overcome it by relying on himself. 6. In fact, Emerson had a very limited contact with original Hindu texts, but was an avid reader of English and German philosophers, who did know them. Thus he was acquainted with at least part of the Book of Manu at an early phase. Also when he could read further into Hindu writings, his attitude was never that of a scholar interested in another civilization, but that of a “practical” philosopher who would re-interpret and re-use others’ ideas. Incidentally, this is another point of contact with Gandhi. References Bilbro 2013 = Jeffrey Bilbro, Lahiri’s Hawthornian Roots: Art and Tradition in “Hema and Kaushik”, «Critique: Studies in Contemporary Fiction» 54, 4 (2013), 380-394. Bloom 2006 = Harold Bloom, Emerson: The American Religion, in Id., Emerson’s Essays, Chelsea House, New York 2006, 93-123. Caesar 2005 = Judith Caesar, American Spaces in the Fiction of Jhumpa Lahiri, «English Studies in Canada» 31, 1 (2005), 50-68. Cardozo 2012 = Karen M. Cardozo, Mediating the Particular and the General: Ethnicity and Intertextuality in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Oeuvre, in Lavina Dhingra, Floyd Cheung (eds.), Naming Jhumpa Lahiri. Canons and Controversies, Lex- ington Books, Plymouth 2012, 1-26. Chakrabarty 2000 = Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe. Postcolonial Thought and Historical Difference, Princeton University Press, Princeton 2000. Dhingra–Cheung 2012 = Lavina Dhingra, Floyd Cheung, Naming Jhumpa Lahi- ri. Canons and Controversies, Lexington Books, Plymouth 2012. Emerson = Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays: First and Second Series (1841, 1844), Houghton Mifflin Co., Boston 1983. Farshid 2013 = Sima Farshid, The Fertile “Third Space” in Jhumpa Lahiri’s Stories, «International Journal of Comparative Literature & Translation Studies» 1, 3 (2013), 1-5. Goodman 1990 = Russel B. Goodman, East-West Philosophy in Nineteenth-Cen- tury America: Emerson and Hinduism, «Journal of the History of Ideas» 51, 4 (1990), 625-645. Hawthorne 2014 = Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Scarlet Letter (1850), Simon and Schuster, New York–London 2014. Kunow 2003 = Rüdiger Kunow, Eating Indian(s): Food, Representation, and the Indian Diaspora in the United States, in Tobias Döring, Markus Heide, Su- sanne Mühleisen (eds.), Eating Culture. The Poetics and Politics of Food, Uni- versitätsverlag Winter, Heidelberg 2003, 151-175. Lahiri 2008a = Jhumpa Lahiri, Unaccustomed Earth, in Id., Unaccustomed Earth, Bloomsbury Publishing, London–New York–Berlin 2008, 3-59. 259 Jhumpa Lahiri’s “Unaccustomed Earth” Lahiri 2008b = Jhumpa Lahiri, Rhode Island, in Matt Weiland, Sean Wilsey (eds.), State by State. A Panoramic Portrait of America, Ecco Press, New York 2008, 391-401. Ling 2014 = Yun Ling, Diasporic Trauma in Unaccustomed Earth, «Cross-Cultur- al Communication» 10, 2 (2014), 141-144. Martin-Rodriguez 2000 = Manuel Martin-Rodriguez, The Raw and Who Cooked it: Food, Identity and Culture in US Latino/a Literature, in Francisco A. Lo- melì, Karin Ikas (eds.), US Latino Literatures and Cultures. Transnational Per- spectives, Carl Winter Universitätsverlag, Heidelberg 2000, 37-52. Mehta 2011 = Binita Mehta, Bhaji, Curry, and Masala: Food and/as Identity in Four Films of the Indian Diaspora, in Rita Christian, Judith Misrahi-Barak (eds.), India and the Diasporic Imagination, Presses Universitaires de la Médi- terranée, Montpellier 2011, 351-370. Olivelle 2011 = Patrick Olivelle, From Feast to Fast. Food and the Indian Ascetic, in Id. Ascetics and Brahmins. Studies in Ideologies and Institutions, Anthem Press, New York 2011, 71-90. Roy 2002 = Parama Roy, Reading Communities and Culinary Communities: The Gastropoetics of the South Asian Diaspora, «Positions: East Asia Cultures Cri- tique» 10, 2 (2002), 471-502. Saxena 2012 = Neela Bhattacharya Saxena, Peopling an Unaccustomed Earth with a New Generation: Jhumpa Lahiri’s Supreme Fictional Journey into Human Conditions, «Argument. Biannual Philosophical Journal» 2, 1 (2012), 129-150. Sekaran 2011 = Shanthi N. Sekaran, The Prayer Room, a Novel, and The Salt of Another Earth. A Critical Study of Food and Culinary Practice in Indi- an-American Narratives of the Immigrant Experience, University of Newcastle Upon Tyne, Newcastle 2011. Srikanth 2012 = Rajini Srikanth, What Lies Beneath: Lahiri’s Brand of Desirable Difference in Unaccustomed Earth, in Lavina Dhingra, Floyd Cheung (eds.), Naming Jhumpa Lahiri. Canons and Controversies, Lexington Books, Plym- outh 2012, 51-71. van Buitenen 2013 = J. A. B. van Buitenen (transl.), The Bhagavadgītā in the Mahābhārata (1981), University of Chicago Press, Chicago–London 2013. 
work_arbcmjiq2rfkjeodqsj3dflpkm	----	The Radical American Judaism of Mordecai M. Kaplan by Mel Scult (review) The Radical American Judaism of Mordecai M. Kaplan by Mel Scult (review) Miri Freud-Kandel American Jewish History, Volume 100, Number 1, January 2016, pp. 165-167 (Review) Published by Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ Access provided at 6 Apr 2021 01:59 GMT from Carnegie Mellon University ] https://doi.org/10.1353/ajh.2016.0011 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/606067 https://doi.org/10.1353/ajh.2016.0011 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/606067 165Book Reviews Greenberg and Sandy Koufax not playing on Jewish holidays (discussed most enlighteningly by Alpert), renowned Jewish boxers like Barney Ross and Benny Leonard, anti-Semitic taunting of Jewish athletic com- petitors by sports fans (to the extent of fans of the opposing football/ soccer teams throwing pieces of ham and even soap onto the field, the latter especially striking in Argentina, given the country’s reputation for harboring Nazis after the war). As is typical in discussions of the construction of Jewish identity vis-à- vis a Christian dominant culture, some consider the Jewish difference as one of religion, others as one of ethnicity. The major analytical threads running through the volume are the two linked themes of participation in sports as a vehicle for Jewish entry and assimilation into mainstream culture through what Sheinen calls an “identity bridge,” and of sports as a refutation of belittling stereotypes of Jewish men as physically weak and non-athletic, as people of the book rather than the body (13). The essays by Alpert and Abrams most explicitly theorize this gender dimen- sion and thereby add analytical acuity to the volume. Others are de facto about men rather than women (though women receive some attention in places, such as Senda Berenson’s role in developing women’s basketball as well as discus, shot put and javelin champ Lillian Copeland, both in Gems’s essay) but for the most part they leave this undertheorized. Sclar’s concluding essay offers useful ways of placing this volume in a larger context in the field, and points to some ways forward through the fertile intersection of Jewish studies and studies of sport. Harry Brod University of Northern Iowa The Radical American Judaism of Mordecai M. Kaplan. By Mel Scult. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 2014. xix + 337 pp. Mel Scult is undoubtedly one of the preeminent scholars disseminating the theology of Mordecai Kaplan, the pioneering American Jewish thinker whose particular efforts to blend American values and Judaism led to the development of Reconstructionist Judaism. This latest volume builds on Scult’s previous work and takes his analysis and clear delineation of Kaplan’s thought to another level by incorporating and making frequent use of the voluminous personal diaries Kaplan wrote between 1913 and 1978. These journal entries offer valuable additional insights into the development of Kaplan’s theology. They also provide an opportunity to 166 A M E R I C A N J E W I S H H I S T O R Y learn about his private reactions to various events during his extended time as a faculty member at the Jewish Theological Seminary and a com- munal rabbi at the Jewish Center and his Society for the Advancement of Judaism. In Scult’s drawing together of these personal reflections on the religious struggles Kaplan experienced and the frequent frustration he felt at having his often somewhat complex ideas misunderstood, alongside a broad analysis of the wide range of influences that can be seen to have contributed to the development of his thought, this new volume represents a clear contribution to scholarship. It situates Kaplan within the development of twentieth-century American Jewish thought and considers the intellectual influences and interlocutors that led Kaplan to the sometimes contradictory religious positions he adopted. Beyond the usual references to the importance of John Dewey on Kaplan’s thought, Scult also considers the role of thinkers such as Baruch Spinoza, Ahad Ha-Am, Felix Adler, Arnold Ehrlich, Matthew Arnold, William James, and Abraham Joshua Heschel. And while Kaplan’s thought has so often been associated with a prioritization of the Jewish collective, Scult ad- ditionally draws attention to the importance of Ralph Waldo Emerson and the pivotal role Kaplan constructs for individual fulfillment if the collective is to consist of members who bring it value. Just as Scult highlights how “Kaplan’s persistent emphasis on the in- dividual can be surprising. We are used to associating him with Judaism as a civilization,” he also tries to make sense of Kaplan’s belief in God and to address some of the contradictions associated with a rejection of chosenness alongside a prioritization of Jewish civilization (162). Scult argues that, for all his rationalism, Kaplan was conscious of the limits of reason, as his journal entries noted. Demonstrating how Kaplan’s thought contains far greater nuance and depth than both his critics and followers often give him credit for emerges as a clear goal in Scult’s analysis. Scult delineates Kaplan’s efforts to create a revised–reconstructed–account of Judaism that could ascribe it with meaning in a new context, on a new continent, among a Jewish immigrant population settling into America and seeking to balance its multiple identities. In Scult’s telling, this Ju- daism extends beyond the humanism, naturalism, and ethics by which it is often circumscribed. Through all of this there is a sense that comes across at times that Scult, as disciple more than just biographer, is driven by a concern to share and promulgate the lessons of someone he views as his teacher. This approach does not prevent Scult from concluding his work by stating that he is unable to classify Kaplan as anything other than an heretic. Scult reaches his conclusion despite the efforts undertaken throughout this volume to highlight a notable traditionalism in Ka- 167Book Reviews plan’s thought and practices. He argues that it is the ideas expressed in Kaplan’s diaries that offer the fullest sense of a deep piety alongside the radicalism and heresy with which he is generally associated. Scult notes, “It is a mistake–one that he [Kaplan] himself generally encouraged in his published writings–to see him as living and working in the narrow space of American pragmatism and sociology” (223). The influence of Kaplan’s upbringing and the deep and abiding sense of religiosity that this inculcated emerges here. In many respects it is Kaplan’s attachment to the Judaism of his youth that can be seen, on the one hand, to en- able him to interweave somewhat radical, broadly sociologically driven approaches to religion into his account of Judaism and to construct a place for them there within the tradition. On the other hand, this also ensures that the radical American Judaism that Scult associates with Kaplan’s thought, when viewed from the outside, is not necessarily as radical as it has been portrayed. The underlying traditional influences in Kaplan’s Jewish world view can allow him to compose a chapter in one of his works on “God as Felt Presence.” While Scult explains how this approach to God should not be interpreted to refer to some transcendental, personal account of God, it can nonetheless be seen to build on a received account of the Godly in Kaplan’s thought (185ff). This retains some level of resonance with traditional beliefs that may be harder to replicate or understand for those who approach Kaplan’s theology without his personal religious background. The charge of heresy that Scult accepts for Kaplan can in certain respects be understood as a badge of honor, reflective of the radicalism that sets Kaplan apart as a courageous religious visionary. Yet Scult acknowledges Kaplan’s own awareness of the waning appeal of his teach- ings, which were developed to speak to a first and second generation of immigrant Jews struggling to balance their dual American and Jewish identities. As the religious challenges facing American Jewry changed, the relevance of Kaplan’s views diminished. Nonetheless, Scult’s endeavors in this work attempt to demonstrate that by re-examining Kaplan’s thought there could be scope for his teachings to retain influence. Miri Freud-Kandel University of Oxford 
work_atjgqtujrrbgnifqhzae6eecyu	----	http://vcu.sagepub.com Journal of Visual Culture DOI: 10.1177/1470412907075068 2007; 6; 44 Journal of Visual Culture Nora M. Alter Translating the Essay into Film and Installation http://vcu.sagepub.com/cgi/content/abstract/6/1/44 The online version of this article can be found at: Published by: http://www.sagepublications.com can be found at:Journal of Visual Culture Additional services and information for http://vcu.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts Email Alerts: http://vcu.sagepub.com/subscriptions Subscriptions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.navReprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.navPermissions: © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts http://vcu.sagepub.com/subscriptions http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav http://vcu.sagepub.com journal of visual culture Translating the Essay into Film and Installation Nora M. Alter journal of visual culture [http://vcu.sagepub.com] Copyright © 2007 SAGE Publications (Los Angeles, London, New Delhi and Singapore) Vol 6(1): 44–57 [1470-4129(200704)6:1]10.1177/1470412907075068 Abstract This article investigates whether or not it is possible to translate the philosophical essay into a two- and later three-dimensional audio- visual form known as the ‘essay film’. This genre is increasingly gaining recognition as a distinct branch of international cinema. This text traces the essay film’s origins back to early silent cinema and the abstract, experimental films of artists and then follows its development and the forking of paths into non-fiction ‘art cinema’ and non-fiction film, concluding with recent experiments that blur the distinction between art and film and which seek to transform the essay into a sculptural installation. Keywords Theodor Adorno ● Walter Benjamin ● essay ● film ● installation ● Georg Lukács ● philosophy ● translation A mode of audio-visual production, loosely called the ‘essay film’, has proliferated in recent years within the disciplines of film and fine art. Sometimes referred to as ‘filmed philosophy’, this filmic genre which originates in the 1920s has increasingly come to be recognized as a distinct branch of international cinema. In the broadest sense, the essay film is a hybrid that fuses the two long-established categories of film: fiction and documentary. But it also goes beyond this to cross the boundaries of traditional disciplines. Producers of audio-visual essays thus include not only feature filmmakers, documentarists and avant-garde filmmakers, but also artists who produce installations for gallery and museum display. While essay films typically do not follow a clear narrative trajectory, they often self-reflexively offer their own film criticism. Like its ancestor, the written essay, the genre of the essay film poaches across disciplinary borders, often transgressing conceptual and formal norms. Positioned, as is the © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com literary essay, between genres that are more stable and firmly established – in the case of the written essay between literature and philosophy and in the case of the essay film between narrative fiction and documentary – audio- visual essays problematize binary categories of representation. Although ‘essay films’ have been sporadically produced for at least 80 years, this genre was only properly theorized in the final decade of the 20th century. Since then, the production of audio-visual essays has increased at such a rate that they have come to be commonly acknowledged as a third cinematic genre. The reasons for the proliferation of the essay film are multiple, and include the broad accessibility of video cameras and digital editing systems. This technology has enabled individuals with little or no training in filmmaking to become practitioners of the craft. The more general shift away from literacy toward visual culture in the late 20th century has also spurred on production within this medium. Indeed, the essay film at the turn of the millennium has increasingly come to perform the critical function of the written film theory essay. In what follows I shall examine the genealogy of the audio-visual essay, as well as discuss the vicissitudes of this genre from a one-dimensional written linguistic text to be read, to a two-dimensional audio-visual film or video work to be screened publicly or viewed on a VCR, DVD or CD-ROM, and finally to a three-dimensional installation designed as a space through which the spectator actively navigates his or her way. My aim is not only to explore the particular stages of the essay film, but also to investigate the translation or mutation of this genre from medium to medium. The Essay and Its Vicissitudes ‘To essay’ means ‘to assay’, ‘to weigh’, as well as ‘to attempt’, suggesting an open-ended, evaluative search. But this objective search is haunted and con- strained by the presence of individual subjectivity. This makes sense if we consider that the verb is also linked via the Latin ex-agere to agens, the word and problem of human agency. Current use of the word essay as a distinct genre can be traced to the 16th-century social critic and philosopher Michel de Montaigne, whose Essais (1580) were to exert a deep influence on the philosophs of the Enlightenment, and on a number of critics in this legacy, from the Marquis de Sade, Giacomo Leopardi and Ralph Waldo Emerson, to Georg Lukács, Theodor Adorno, Walter Benjamin and Roland Barthes. By ‘essay’, Montaigne meant the testing of ideas, himself (slyly qualified as ‘the most frivolous of topics’) and society. It was a wide-ranging form of cognitive perambulation that reflected upon fundamental questions of life and human frailty, tensions and overlaps between ‘fact’ and ‘fiction’, and their consequences for social order and disorder. Since Montaigne, the essay has retained some of its distinguishing features. Its weapons are humor, irony, satire, paradox; its atmosphere is contradiction and the collision of opposites. Although the essay as a form transgresses national contexts, my investigation of the formulations and practices of this genre will be limited to the writings of Lukács, Adorno and Benjamin. Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 45 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com I am focusing on these German-language critics primarily because they were at the forefront of theorizing the importance of the essay in the 20th century. These theorizations, however, were carried out in a context that was anything but favorable. Before then the genre of the essay in the 19th and early 20th centuries was demeaned in Germany, largely due to its outsider status. That the French word essai was untranslatable into German at this time already indicates the foreignness of the concept. The writings of Lukács, Adorno and Benjamin changed all of this. Hence, for a writer to work in this genre implied embracing an otherness in relation to national identity. Furthermore, critics of the essay within German-language intellectual circles dismissed the genre as flippant, with claims that it possessed neither the sustained deep thought typically found in philosophy, nor the creative impulse that characterized literature (see Hohendahl, 1997: 217–31). And here it is important to emphasize that many audio-visual essays produced in a number of national contexts and languages incorporate, either by direct citation or visual reference, the words, theories and methods of Adorno, Lukács and especially Benjamin. Thus, formulations of the 20th-century German essay transcend media, national, cultural and racial borders. They resurface in the work of diverse US-based artists such as Alan Sekula, Dan Eisenberg, Renée Green and Rea Tajiri. In these cases, the directors literally appropriate and trans- late, not only from one language to another but from literary to visual form, the texts of these cultural theoreticians into their films. Such appropriations take the form of intertitles set against a black screen – Leerstellen, or empty spaces – that break the image plane and give the reader pause to reflect; or as an oral text read out loud that issues forth as verbal commentary on the soundtrack. Green, for instance, cites directly from Benjamin’s ‘Naples’ in her Some Chance Operations (1999), and Eisenberg includes passages from Adorno’s Minima Moralia in his Cooperation of Parts (1987). But this is not the only way that the directors in question translate thought. A case in point is Eisenberg’s film Persistence (1997), which renders in images and music Theses V and IX from Benjamin’s ‘Theses on the Philosophy of History’ (1969a[1939]). The translation from one form to another is unambiguous, though the mutations of the new form are also clear. For example, in Persistence the manner in which Eisenberg’s camera lingers on a train sitting at a platform in 1990s Berlin while the voice-over describes a departure scene at a similar platform in the 1940s recalls the tenor of Benjamin’s Thesis V: The true picture of the past flits by. The past can be seized only as an image which flashes up at the instant when it can be recognized and never seen again . . . For every image of the past that is not recognized by the present as one of its own concerns threatens to disappear irretrievably. (p. 255) Similarly, the manner in which the opening shot of Eisenberg’s film features an image of the golden angel Victoria that sits on top of the Siegessaüle in Berlin with debris blowing across the screen inevitably summons the specter of Benjamin’s Thesis IX: 46 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com A Klee painting named ‘Angelus Novus’ shows an angel looking as though he is about to move away from something he is fixedly contemplating. His eyes are staring, his mouth is open, his wings are spread. This is how one pictures the angel of history. His face turned to the past. Where we perceive a chain of events, he sees one single catastrophe which keeps piling wreckage upon wreckage, and hurls it in front of his feet. (pp. 257–8) Eisenberg’s film thereby performs what might be referred to as a triple translation: whereas Benjamin’s ekphrasis translates Klee’s painting into philosophical prose, Eisenberg’s mediation translates Benjamin’s text into the medium of film. In his 1910 ‘letter’ to Leo Popper, ‘On the Nature and Form of the Essay’, Lukács (1978[1910]) seeks to legitimate the written essay for the German- speaking world. The essay, he suggests, is ‘criticism as a form of art’ (p. 2). He compares the essay to other forms of literature using the metaphor of ‘ultra-violet rays’ which are refracted throughout the literary prism (p. 7). The essay is characterized as both ‘accidental’ and ‘necessary’ (p. 9). Adorno echoed this claim years later in ‘The Essay as Form’ (1993[1954–8]), where he extols the characteristics of ‘luck’, ‘play’ and ‘irrationality’. For both Lukács and Adorno, the essay is fragmentary, wandering, and does not seek to find absolute truths – as would, for instance, the documentary genre – but rather ‘finds its unity in and through breaks and not by glossing them over’ (p. 16).1 Indeed, Adorno goes so far as to propose that it is precisely in its untruths that the reality of the essay lies. For Lukács (1978[1910]), the essay functions as a form of ‘judgement’. But he is quick to add: ‘the essential, the value-determining thing about [the essay], is not the verdict [at which it arrives] . . . but the process of judging’ (p. 18). What is important to emphasize is that Lukács believes that the essay is at once a work of art (because of what he calls its autonomous, ‘sovereign’ status) and not a work of art (because of its status as critique) (p. 18). By contrast, Adorno (1993[1954–8]) never endows the genre of the essay with the status of art. Although he grants that ‘the essay has something like an aesthetic autonomy’ that leads it to be ‘accused of being simply derived from art’, he is adamant that it be ‘distinguished from art by its [linguistic] medium, concepts, and by its claim to a truth devoid of aesthetic semblance’ (p. 5). Thus for Adorno the essay is fundamentally a linguistic form that cannot be translated into another medium. Its status, he insists, is between science and art, and it should not be tipped more heavily in one direction over the other. In short, where Lukács sees the essay as both art and critique, Adorno maintains that this genre’s relation to art is a purely formal one – namely, insofar as it constantly pursues new forms of presentation (p. 18). Thought, Adorno argues, ‘does not progress in a single direction’. Instead, the moments of thought are ‘interwoven as in a carpet’; their fruitfulness ‘depends on the density of the texture. The thinker does not actually think but rather makes himself into an arena for intellectual experience without unraveling it’ (p. 13). Here it is important to note that many audio-visual Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 47 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com essays are so dense that they seem to be made with video technology in mind, which allows for unlimited rewindings and pauses. The form of experience that is thereby produced is not unlike the traditional reading of a difficult text in which it is not uncommon for the reader to pause and reread particularly complex passages. Finally, according to Adorno, the essay is ‘the critical form par excellence; as immanent critique of intellectual construc- tions, as a confrontation of what they are with their concept, it is critique of ideology’ (p. 20). Benjamin was the essayist par excellence for Adorno, and although the latter’s theorization of the essay has had a significant reception, formally it is to Benjamin that many audio-visual essayists turn. Yet, it would be an error to underestimate the importance of Lukács’s conception of the essay for late 20th-century practitioners of its audio-visual form. For it was Lukács who theorized the translation of the written essay into a new aesthetic medium, and it was he who also reformulated Schlegel’s famous dictum that the ‘theory of the novel should be a novel’ into the idea that the theory of the essay should be an essay or the theory of film a film. The audio-visual essay is a multi-layered product – an image track, a sound track, as well as a component in the form of intertitles, chapter headings, and even writing directly on the celluloid – often accompanied by a voice-over. The textual track or layer sometimes directly contradicts the image track, creating within the total filmic text a jarring collision of opposites and complex levels of meaning that the audience must co-produce. This model of translation, which galvanizes the observer into the role of a full-fledged participant in the construction of meaning, supplies the audio-visual essay with metaphors of relationality and participation in a medium that in its mass manifestations has been traditionally associated with passivity. Essay films also translate various classical rhetorical devices into audio-visual dimensions. For example, the rhetorical figure of ‘chiasmus’, the oscillatory ‘crossing’ of categories, has been adapted to the cinematographic medium in several films. Jean-Luc Godard’s Histoire(s) du Cinema (1988–98) and Chris Marker’s Letter from Siberia (1958) are cases in point. Both of these films feature soundtracks that interrupt the visual track to loosen habitual connections and produce surprising new meanings. Similarly, the painterly and psychological technique of ‘anamorphosis’, whereby a ‘change of perspective’ in the extended or narrow sense alters manifest meaning, has been adapted as a methodological tool by film essayists. Trinh T. Minh-ha’s Surname Viet: Given Name Nam (1989), for example, is cleverly presented as a documentary only to reveal its complete artifice – and the artifice of the genre of documentary altogether – by the end of the film. What these works all have in common is that they challenge the manner in which history is usually assembled and narrated and enable other stories to unfold. The tenuousness of the relationship between representation and history is also a concern of artists such as Hito Steyerl who use various techniques of layering images and sounds to create a filmic version of what Benjamin referred to as the ‘dialectical image’, or those such as Eisenberg who seek to 48 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com create works based on principles of collage that preserve a certain frag- mentary condition. Generally speaking, audio-visual essays do not pretend to have one clear objective or subject matter. Rather like Adorno’s (1993[1954–8]) essay that ‘coordinates concepts with one another by means of their function as a parallelogram of forces in its objects’, there does not exist an overarching concept to which all audio-visual essays can be sub- ordinated (p. 16). Some are narrated from a highly subjective point of view, while others are more detached, and more dependent on the particular interpretation of the beholder. There are also audio-visual essays that deliberately reference written philosophical texts, including actual citations, whereas others translate the genre of the essay to generate entirely new meditations. If the essay in literature and philosophy corresponds to formal and social/political crises, its audio-visual counterpart emerges at the moment of similar aporias. What those might be is the point in question. Form, Context and the Essay Film The genealogy of the audio-visual essay begins in the 1920s when the genres of feature and documentary were settling into their formal categories. Essayistic tendencies are discernible in 1920s films such as Dziga Vertov’s seminal Man with a Movie Camera (1929), a portrait of Moscow’s dynamism, Joris Ivens’s Rain (1929), a poetic meditation on the relationship between nature and modernity, and Walter Ruttman’s crucial Berlin, Symphony of a Great City (1927), which signaled the great potential of this new mode of filmmaking. Although essayistic traces emerge with increasing frequency in films of the 1920s, the essay film as a genre was not formally articulated until 1940 when avant-garde filmmaker Hans Richter wrote the manifesto-like text, ‘Der Filmessay: Eine neue Form des Dokumentarfilms’ (The Film Essay: A New Form of Documentary Film) (1992[1940]). One of the key players in German Dada, Richter worked closely with other figures in this international avant- garde movement, including Richard Huelsenbeck, Kurt Schwitters, Viking Eggeling, Tristan Tzara, Marcel Duchamp and Sophie Taeuber. By 1921, he had made his first abstract film, Rhythmus 21, a black and white study of Suprematist squares and rectangles that change in size and depth through a series of rhythmic evolutions. Richter continued to make abstract films for several years. The overriding structure of these productions was determined more by the motion or movement of the filmed objects than by any physical or referential materiality. But by the late 1920s, Richter had shifted from purely abstract works to more socio-critical representational shorts, such as Vormittagspuk (1927) and Inflation (1928), that characteristically performed a mode of social critique. Many of these films were censored, and Richter faced an increasingly hostile environment, which culminated in his decision to emigrate to the United States in 1941. The first film that he made in the US, Dreams That Money Can Buy (1947), won the Special Award at the Venice Biennale of 1948 for ‘the Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 49 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com best original contribution to the progress of cinematography’. Richter followed Dreams That Money Can Buy with 8X8: Chess Sonata (1957) and the two-part Dadascope completed in 1963. The documentary genre became particularly significant for him during this period. In his essay, ‘The Film as an Original Art Form’ (1970[1955]), he cites documentary as one of two genres – the other being experimental or art film – capable of challenging the dominance of narrative cinema (p. 17). Yet, for Richter both the documentary and experimental genres of cinema are limited. As with ‘the history of society’, he writes, ‘the history of cinema is split into two divergent lines.’ And just as one can no longer locate progressive social politics within the context of communism, ‘the progressive cinema can no longer be identified simply with the artistic cinema’ (Richter, 1986: 29). In ‘Der Filmessay: Eine neue Form des Dokumentarfilms’ (1992[1940]), Richter theorizes, even if only in rudimentary form, a new genre of film that would enable the filmmaker to make ‘problems, thoughts, even ideas’ perceptible – a type of filmmaking that would ‘render visible what is not visible’ (p. 197). Richter dubbed the result ‘essay’, since it ‘deals with difficult themes in generally comprehensible form’. Unlike the genre of documentary film, which presents facts and information, the essay film is an in-between genre that, insofar as it is not grounded in reality but can be contradictory, irrational, playful and fantastic, is thus well suited to develop complex thought. The essay film, Richter continues, no longer binds the filmmaker to the rules and parameters of the traditional documentary practice: rather the imagination with all its artistic potentiality is now permitted to reign freely.2 The resonances of Walter Benjamin’s theorization of ‘pure language’ on Richter’s notion of essay is no doubt coincidental. But the parallel is striking nonetheless. For Benjamin (1969b[1923]), In all language and linguistic creations, there remains in addition to what can be conveyed something that cannot be communicated . . . It is the task of the translator to release in his own language that pure language which is under the spell of another, to liberate the language imprisoned in a work. (pp. 79–80) Such a liberation would, when transposed to Richter’s film essay, free abstract concepts by giving them visual form. It is the task of Richter’s essay film to discern instances of invisibility, rendering them stylistically, philosophically and historically perceptible through the means of audio- visual technology. Richter’s conceptualization of the genre of the essay film is crucial for the emergence of the audio-visual essay in the context of art. His post as Director of New York’s City College Institute of Film Technique, as well as the committed material support of Peggy Guggenheim, placed him in an excellent position from which to train a younger generation of artists in avant-garde filmmaking. His films and theoretical writings became 50 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com enormously important for a number of other aspiring filmmakers and artists such as Kenneth Anger, Maya Deren, Stan Brackhage, Michael Snow, Jonas Mekas, Jack Smith and Andy Warhol, all of whom developed modes of filmmaking indebted to him in significant ways. Thus the avant-garde project that Richter commenced in Zurich during World War I and resumed in New York City in the aftermath of the Second World War culminated in the development of the essay film as a full-fledged art genre. In contrast, the type of audio-visual essay that developed in postwar Europe was more strictly theorized in relation to the genre of documentary. The European ‘essay film’ was most prominently articulated by the French filmmaker and theorist Alexandre Astruc, who in the late 1940s began to write about what he described as ‘filmed philosophy’. More specifically, Astruc (1968[1948]) introduced the notion of a camera-stylo (camera-stylus) that would ‘become a means of writing, just as flexible and subtle as written language, . . . [rendering] more or less literal “inscriptions” on images as “essays”’ (p. 17). These inscriptions, however, in translating by means of the camera the ephemerality of the world, were able to liberate the pure language imprisoned in the linguistic construction into the format of film. Astruc’s concepts were taken up not only by French filmmakers, but also almost simultaneously by filmmakers in Germany. Indeed, despite the proliferation of American cultural products and Hollywood films in Europe during the post-war period – culminating in Wim Wenders’ infamous slogan, ‘The Yanks have even colonized our unconscious’ – the influence of French film critics and theoreticians in Germany should not be underestimated.3 It was, after all, the French who led efforts to reintroduce film criticism and production in a country where film critique had been eliminated by the National Socialist regime.4 Theorists of the essay have argued from the onset that the genre manifests itself in moments of crisis – political and representational. The function of the essay is not therapy or healing the wounds produced by the upheavals of the day, but crisis diagnosis enabling and encouraging future social and cultural transformation. Certainly, when Richter first conceived of the essay film in the 1920s, Europe was socially and politically in a state of crisis. Conventions of representation, too, had been thrown into disarray, with the post-Cubist developments of abstraction, Neusachlichkeit, and the readymade disturbing the pre-First World War strands of modernism. To many, the latter seemed quaint in the face of the ideological battles engaged in by practitioners of different modes of representation in the 1920s. Likewise, the social and cultural politics of West Germany in the late 1960s and 1970s were also in a state of crisis. Not only the upheavals of 1968, but also the intensification of the Cold War and the installation of multiple nuclear warheads in the region made West Germany a hotbed of unrest and a lightning rod for oppositional practices. These social conditions were paralleled by a deep suspicion of the affirmative nature of modernism and the all-embracing potential of mass culture.5 During this period, a new generation of directors emerged whose films came to be referred to as New Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 51 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com German Cinema, a name that indicates that a clear connection was drawn to French New Wave cinema of the previous decade. The filmmakers in question, including Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Werner Herzog, Hans Syberberg, Helke Sanders, Alexander Kluge, Wim Wenders, Hartmut Bitomsky and Harun Farocki, typically interspersed their feature films with smaller essayistic audio-visual projects. These strategies of hybridity culminated in products that were neither feature films nor documentaries. Indeed the Hamburg Declaration of 1979 (see Rentschler, 1988[1979]), penned and signed by ‘we German filmmakers’, acknowledged the need for a synthesis between the ‘feature film’ and the ‘documentary film’, as much as the need for ‘films that reflect on the medium’ (p. 4). And here it is important to stress that, at the time, what people understood as the documentary genre in West Germany was either a form of American Direct Cinema or a form of Cinema Verité, both of which maintained rigid guidelines meant to ensure that reality was represented as truthfully as possible. Within the history of film, then, the essay film develops in opposition to the strict genre of documentary. Whereas the latter claims to present unambiguous truth and a relationship to history that is not arbitrary, the essay film allows for contradictions and play. Thus when Kluge was faced in the 1970s with the difficulty of addressing German history, he resorted to the genre of the essay film, finding that the combination of fact and fiction, as well as the inclusion of drawings and other innovative non-realistic elements that this genre permitted, allowed him at once to work his way through this aporia and self-reflexively draw attention to the artificial nature of the filmic medium. Similar difficulties led Syberberg to adopt the genre of the essay film when making his epic Hitler: Ein Film aus Deutschland (1977), which relied heavily on dramatic forms of play, fantasy, puppetry and the like to render the personage of Hitler. From this perspective, the formal means of representation employed by Kluge and Syberberg are as theoretical as anything advanced by the narrative of their films. Inherent to the meaning of these films is that the medium itself can never offer more than re-presentation, and that the veracity demanded by the documentary genre is ultimately unattainable. The essay film, because it plays with fact and fiction, untruths as much as truths, poses problems without answers, and is deeply self-reflexive. As such, it is seen as the ideal genre by filmmakers who want to advance historical knowledge but recognize that this can only be done in a tenuous way. What I am suggesting is that if in art the audio-visual essay emerges from an attempt to fuse the genre of the documentary with avant-garde or experimental film, in cinema the audio-visual essay develops from the attempt to combine the documentary and the fictional or feature film genres. These two strands of the essay film remained separate in the 1970s and 80s, each with different practitioners, publics and venues. Whereas the essay films of artists were presented in exhibition spaces such as museums and galleries, those of filmmakers who stayed closer to the institution of cinema were shown in repertory film houses or on television. 52 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com Audio-Visual Essay Practice Today The problematization of the genre of documentary film together with the proliferation of audio-visual essays produced by artists and filmmakers alike in the past quarter century have fostered the development of a new hybrid medium. The latter, which effectively blurs the categories of film and art, has loosened not only production practices but also practices of exhibition. Hence, more than ever before, traditional filmmakers are exhibiting their works in galleries and museums, and artists are showing their films in film festivals and cinemas. But the site in which this new medium is the most innovative is the gallery or museum, where the audio-visual essay has increasingly taken the form of the projected image installation. The work of Harun Farocki provides a good example of this recent devel- opment. In the past five years, Farocki has begun to exhibit his film and videotape work in the form of three-dimensional installations. A recent project, Eye/Machine (2001), which addresses the ubiquity of electronic surveillance in everyday life, was designed as a split-screen projection playing in a continuous loop in the exhibition space. The installation transforms the thematic component of the videotapes in several ways. First, the continuous loop at once recalls the persistent replay of media images on television, as well as the panopticon effect of satellite and other surveillance cameras on contemporary subjectivity. Second, the eerie silence of the installation places the spectator in the overarching position of a surveiller of information. Vision is thus stimulated, but in an alienated way, and the viewer becomes a detached observer of mute images. Farocki’s use of the split screen produces what he refers to elsewhere as a ‘soft montage’ (Farocki and Silverman, 1998: 142). This is a form of montage in which two separate images are juxtaposed with, and occasionally super- imposed upon, one another, resulting in a ‘general relatedness, rather than a strict opposition or equation’ (p. 142). Moreover, according to Farocki, insofar as the filmmaker employing this method of montage does not ‘predetermine how the two images are to be connected’, the viewer is given greater freedom to establish associations and meanings. This manner of relating images is distinct from the ‘strict opposition of equation’ produced by a linear montage of sharp cuts (p. 142). Soft montage allows for an increased flexibility and openness of the text for the spectator – associations are suggested but not formally mandated. This form of montage parallels Adorno’s essayistic schema in a number of ways. For instance, in both ‘discrete elements set off against one another are brought together to form a readable context’, and ‘crystallize as a configuration through their motion’. Thus the constellations ‘form force fields, just as every intellectual structure is necessarily transformed into a force field under the essay’s gaze’ (p. 13). But whereas for Adorno the placement of a constellation follows the linear logic of writing, Farocki spatializes these theoretical configurations through the medium of film. The philosophical concepts or constellations are thereby translated into audio-visual juxtapositions. Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 53 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com Such fluidity is in stark contrast to the dehumanized visual controlling systems critiqued by Farocki’s videotapes – systems that permit little or no space for interpretation or flexibility of vision. By creating a space between two images within which to meditate and make associations, Farocki inter- rupts the mechanized image-making systems and unsutures the gap between technological and natural vision. For, in contrast to a single channel video- tape that would impose a monocular, technologized vision on the spectator, by the very nature of their regime, Farocki’s two-channel installations open spaces for thought, interpretation and reflection, demanding new modes of reception. The associations constructed by the viewer thereby form a historical narrative, actively assembled by the viewer. The form assumed by the essay in Farocki’s installation is a long way from the one-dimensional form of the written text. Beyond even the two-dimensional audio-visual form of the screen, the essay has now been translated into the context of a three- dimensional installation. To justify the claim that essayistic film or video installations such as Farocki’s sculptural Eye Machine are contemporary versions of the original literary form, let me briefly return to Benjamin’s theory of translation. For Benjamin (1969b[1923]), translation was above all a ‘mode’, meaning a variety of expression, a new arrangement or a new form (p. 70). Only works that have a certain ‘translatability’ can be translated with any degree of fidelity to the original. ‘Translatability’, Benjamin observes, ‘is an essential quality of certain works’, by which he means that ‘a specific significance inherent in the original’ can be put into the words of a different language (p. 71). This ‘specific signif- icance’ is related to ‘pure language’, or to the theoretical or philosophical core of what is to be translated. At best, the new translated text becomes an ‘echo of the original’; the reverberations that come to make up the new alien form are necessarily distortions.6 Although Benjamin refers exclusively to written texts, he does not exclude the possibility of translation from one medium into another. Indeed, in ‘The Author as Producer’ (1986[1934]), he argues that ‘we have to rethink our conceptions of literary forms or genres, in view of the technical factors affecting our present situation’, and thereby indicates his keen awareness that new media such as cinema and photog- raphy will transform established genres and produce new forms (p. 224). The essay’s inherent flexibility and transgressiveness, partial products of its hybrid nature, increase its ‘translatability’. Fragmentariness, which for Adorno was a central characteristic of the essay, is a distinguishing feature of most contemporary essay films. Interestingly, Benjamin (1969b[1923]) also evokes the image of the fragment when discussing the process of translation, noting that ‘both the original and the translation [are] recognizable as fragments of a greater language’ (p. 78). Thus, the written text in both Adorno’s account of the essay and Benjamin’s consideration of translation represents only a shard or fragment of a much larger whole. Then, too, for both Benjamin and Adorno there is a fluidity of languages and concepts, with Benjamin maintaining that the act of the translator is to move from one language to another without being bogged down by literal meaning, and Adorno (1993[1954–8]) that the 54 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com way the essay appropriates concepts can best be compared to the behavior of someone in a foreign country who is forced to speak its language instead of piecing it together out of its elements according to rules learned in school. (p. 13) The move from the written page to the audio-visual form presents a similar freedom of movement. The filmmaker/artist can opt to transfer certain elements and leave others behind. As a result, the new ‘essay’ may bear only a fragmentary resemblance to the original, but that does not make it any less faithful. From this perspective, the nature of the essay encourages and promotes its translation not only into different languages but also into other media and forms. Benjamin (1969b[1923]) described Rudolf Pannwitz’s Die Krisis der europaischen Kultur as one of the finest treatises on the freedom of translation (p. 80). That the work Benjamin evokes centers on crisis is not coincidental. Crisis, both in form and content, is intimately linked to the production of the essay. The contemporary crisis to which the explosion of audio-visual essays in the 1990s responds is both historical and formal. The shift from analogue to digital ushered in a new visual regime of signification in which claims to fact-telling truth disappeared altogether. Similarly, in geopolitics, 1989 heralded the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of Second World communism and a radical reconfiguration of the world order. Taking the dual significance of 1989, it is not surprising that many of the audio-visual essays produced around this period reflect upon topics such as history, memory, technological reproduction and vision. The continuing ‘afterlife’ of the essay in audio-visual media attests to its inherent ‘translatability’. That the genre would today take the form of an artistic audio-visual production fulfills Lukács’s original conceptualization of it as a mode of critique enclosed in an aesthetic form. The contemporary relevance and inherent adaptability of the essay is indicated by its translation beyond audio-visual installations into digital media such as CD-ROMs and DVDs.7 The experimental, playful and critical dimensions of these new productions echo the vitality of their literary antecedent. And these new productions, as with the highly theoretical and self-reflexive cinema that was the product of the essay film, continue the critical function that the genre of the essay was initially developed to perform. Notes 1. According to Adorno (1993[1954–8]): The essay allows for the consciousness of nonidentity, without expressing it directly; it is radical in its non-radicalism, in refraining from any reduction to a principle, in its accentuation of the partial against the total, in its fragmentary character. (p. 9) 2. Richter (1992[1940]) proposes a new type of filmmaking, the ‘essay film’, which combines documentary with experimental or artistic film as follows: Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 55 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com In diesem Bemühen, die unsichtbare Welt der Vorstellungen, Gedanken un Ideen ischtbar zu machen, kann der essayistische Film aus einem unvergleilich größeren Reservoir von Ausdrucksmitteln schöpfen, als die reine Dokumentarfilm. Denn da man in Filmessay an die Wiedergabe der äußeren Erscheinungen oder an eine chronologische Folge nicht gebunden ist, sondern im Gegenteil das Anschauungsmaterial überall herbeiziehen muß, so kann man frei in Raum und Zeit springen: von der objektiven Wiedergabe beispielweise zur phantastische Allegorie, von dieser zur Spielszene; man kann tote wie ebendge, künstliche wie natürliche Dinge abbilden, alles verwenden, was es gibt und was sich erfinden läßt – wenn es nur als Argument für die Sichtbarmachung des Grundgedankens dienen kann. (p. 198) Richter cites his own 1928 film Inflation as an early example of an essay film, and argues that works such as his Dreams That Money Buy or 8X8: Chess Sonata are further developments in this genre. 3. Wim Wenders, as cited in his 1976 film Kings of the Road, 35mm, 176 min. 4. By 1947, essay filmmakers Chris Marker and Alain Resnais, along with film theorists Andre Bazin and others, had begun to organize annual retreats in Germany. The aim of these meetings was to revitalize the German film sector. The seminars included film screenings, lectures, and discussion, and were attended by young film critics and theorists such as Friede Graf, Ulrich Gregor and Enno Patalas, as well as by the filmmakers Wolfgang Staudte and Paul Rotha. The cultural education offered by the French critics and directors provided an alternative to the Hollywood staple promoted by the American cultural affairs division. Graf, Gregor and Patalas went on to found, with the help of others, the important journal Filmkritik in the 1970s. Also on the editorial board of this journal were the young essay filmmakers Hartmut Bitomsky and Harun Farocki, and Alexander Kluge was an early contributor to its pages. 5. Theorized in the 1930s and 1940s by Herbert Marcuse (1968[1937]) and Frankfurt School writers such as Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer (1988[1944]), these critiques were widely received in West Germany in the 1960s. 6. See Benjamin (1969b[1923]): The task of the translator consists in finding that intended effect [intention] upon the language into which he is translating which produces in it the echo of the original . . . Unlike a work of literature, translation does not find itself in the center of the language forest but on the outside facing the wooded ridge; it calls into it without entering, aiming at the single spot where the echo is able to give, in its own language, the reverberation of the work in the alien one. (p. 76) 7. Chris Marker’s Immemory One (1997) is an example of a CD-ROM essay. References Adorno,T.W. (1993[1954–8]) ‘The Essay as Form’, in Notes To Literature, Vol. 1. New York: Columbia University Press. Adorno, T. and Horkheimer, M. (1988[1944]) The Dialectic of Enlightenment. New York: Continuum. Astruc, A. (1968[1948]) ‘The Birth of A New Avant-Garde: La Camero Stylo’, in Peter Graham (ed.) The New Wave: Critical Landmarks. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Benjamin, W. (1969a[1939]) ‘Thesis on the Philosophy of History’, trans. Harry Zohn, in Hannah Arendt (ed.) Illuminations. New York: Schocken Books. 56 journal of visual culture 6(1) © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com Benjamin, W. (1969b[1923]) ‘The Task of the Translator’, Illuminations. trans. Harry Zohn, in Hannah Arendt (ed.) Illuminations.New York: Schocken Books. Benjamin, W. (1986[1934]) ‘The Author as Producer’, Reflections. New York: Schocken Books. Farocki, H. and Silverman, K. (1998) Speaking about Godard. New York: New York University Press. Hohendahl, P. (1997) ‘The Scholar, the Intellectual, and the Essay: Weber, Lukács, Adorno, and Postwar Germany’, German Quarterly 70(3): 217–32. Lukács, G. (1978[1910]) ‘On the Nature and Form of the Essay: A Letter to Leo Popper’, in Soul and Form. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Marcuse, Herbert (1968[1937]) ‘The Affirmative Nature of Culture’, in Negations: Essays in Critical Theory, pp. 88–158. Boston, MA: Beacon Press. Rentschler, Eric (ed.) (1988[1979]) ‘The Hamburg Declaration’, in West German Filmmakers on Film: Visions and Voices. New York: Holmes and Meier. Richter, H. (1970[1955]) ‘The Film as an Original Art Form’, in P. Adams Sitney (ed.) Film Culture Reader. New York: Praeger Publishers. Richter, H. (1986) The Struggle for the Film: Towards A Socially Responsible Cinema. New York: Palgrave. Richter, H. (1992[1940]) ‘Der Filmessay: Eine neue For des Dokumentarfilms’ (The Film Essay: A New Form of Documentary Film), in Christa Blümlinger and Constatin Wulff (eds) Schreiben Bilder Sprechen: Texte zum essayistischen Film. Vienna: Sonderzahl. Nora M. Alter is Professor of German, Film and Media Studies at the University of Florida. She is affiliate faculty in the Programs in European Studies, Jewish Studies, and Woman and Gender Studies. Her teaching and research have been focused on 20th-century cultural and visual studies from a comparative perspective. She is author of Vietnam Protest Theatre: The Television War on Stage (Indiana University Press, 1996), Projecting History: Non-Fiction German Film (University of Michigan Press, 2002), Chris Marker (Illinois University Press, 2006) and co-editor with Lutz Koepnick of Sound Matters: Essays on the Acoustics of Modern German Culture (Berghahn, 2004). She has published numerous essays on German and European Studies, Film and Media Studies, Cultural and Visual Studies and Contemporary Art. She is currently completing a new book on the international essay film. Address: Department of Germanic and Slavic Studies, University of Florida, 263 Danver Hall, PO Box 117430, Gainesville, FL 32611-7430, USA. [email: nma@ufl.edu] Alter Translating the Essay Into Film and Installation 57 © 2007 SAGE Publications. All rights reserved. Not for commercial use or unauthorized distribution. at UNIV OF CALIFORNIA SANTA CRUZ on May 28, 2007 http://vcu.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://vcu.sagepub.com 
work_awet55qn6zgrfp435j32konefe	----	Shakespeare’s Individualism by Peter Holbrook (review) Shakespeare’s Individualism by Peter Holbrook (review) Paul A. Kottman Shakespeare Quarterly, Volume 64, Number 1, Spring 2013, pp. 107-110 (Review) Published by Oxford University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ Access provided at 6 Apr 2021 01:59 GMT from Carnegie Mellon University ] https://doi.org/10.1353/shq.2013.0014 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/505557 https://doi.org/10.1353/shq.2013.0014 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/505557 BOOK REVIEWS 107 Shakespeare’s Individualism. By PETER HOLBRO OK. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Pp. x + 246. $104.00 cloth. Reviewed by PAUL A. KOTTMAN “‘ To thine own self be true,’” Polonius tells Laertes (69). I have always imagined that Shakespeare, like Hamlet himself, saw Polonius as a pompous fool, one who substitutes moralistic truisms for wisdom when advising his son. A certain amount of eye rolling does not seem an inappropriate response to Polonius’s long-winded counsel. In Shakespeare’s Individualism, however, Peter Holbrook takes Polonius’s advice to be “probably as close as most people get to a ‘Shakespearean philosophy’” (69). In a chapter that quotes Polonius’s counsel in its title, Holbrook suggests that the line,“taken in isolation,” has been seen as an expression of the values of “authen- ticity and self-expression” that the West has taken “as an obligation” “since the Romantic Age” (86). Holbrook is not unaware that such an uncomplicated appeal of fidelity to “self ” will appear “naïve” to “theoretically astute” “readers from the cul- tural Left,” but he counters with an unabashed sincerity redolent of Jean-Jacques Rousseau: “Given the tremendous bureaucratic and managerial forces today ranged against autonomy we now need to draw on whatever cultural resources are available to affirm the value of individuality” (69). Weaving condensed analyses of scenes from virtually every play Shakespeare wrote, including the sonnets and poems, with leitmotif-style references to Montaigne, Nietzsche, Isaiah Berlin, Emerson, and a dizzying array of critics and philosophers, Holbrook argues that “Shakespeare is committed to fundamentally modern values: freedom, individuality, self-realization, authenticity” (23). This commitment is crucial to both Shakespeare’s modernity and our own, “for good or ill” (41).1 The “individualism” invoked by Holbrook—freedom, self-realization, and authenticity—cobbles together various versions of a self-assured “I,” which launches herself into the world in search of her own self-fulfillment. Because Holbrook refers, among others, to Hegel as a key writer on “‘the right of subjective freedom’” (68), I invoke Hegel’s tripartite portrait gallery of modern individuality as a helpful synthesis of Holbrook’s expansive “individualism.” As Jean Hyppolite wrote, “ The desire for immediate enjoyment, the heart’s protest against the estab- lished order, virtue in revolt against the course of the world.”2 In the first portrait, 1 Aware of the “rich history” of associating Shakespeare’s “association” with “freedom, individuality and authenticity” (229), the book invokes Shakespeare’s reception by the British and German Roman- tics, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Ivan Turgenev, Isaiah Berlin, William Hazlitt, André Gide, and many others. Holbrook’s primary aim is not to establish the association but to remind us of it, and to assem- ble passages from Shakespeare’s drama that defend and define “the authentic individual will” (228). 2 I borrow Jean Hyppolite’s handy paraphrase; see Genesis and Structure of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, trans. Samuel Cherniak and John Heckman (Evanston, IL: Northwestern UP, 1974), 280. The correspondent sections of the Phenomenology of Spirit in which Hegel discusses individuality are “Pleasure and Necessity,” “ The Law of the Heart and the Frenzy of Self-Conceit,” and “Virtue and the Way of the World.” See G. W. F. Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit, trans. A. V. Miller (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1977), 217–35. 108 SHAKESPEARE QUARTERLY the individual resembles a pure desire that projects itself into a world of other indi- viduals, seeking especially the happiness of sexual love (Holbrook gives us the examples of Hermia’s pursuit of Lysander in A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Jessica’s flight in The Merchant of Venice, among others). In the second, the individ- ual resembles one who follows without hesitation the promptings of his heart, seeing them as inherently “good” and “right,” if he has not been corrupted by society. As in Rousseau, if each one follows his own inclinations, then all should flourish; Holbrook reads Romeo and Juliet as providing this kind of Rousseau-inflected uplift. Of course, in following my heart, I quickly learn that the urgings of other hearts oppose me, and so find conflict and division where I thought I would find acceptance. As Holbrook says, “Cordelia insists upon speaking in her own voice rather than another’s” (15). So, in the third portrait, the virtuous self bumps up against the panoply of self-interested practices in modern society, which Hegel calls the “way of the world.”3 At which point, of course, the way of the world “wins,” and we are left with a kind of libertarian world view, to which Holbrook subscribes and to which he thinks Shakespeare is committed; that is, a Reagan-like belief in naked impulses to self-realization and individual liberty, which for Holbrook accounts for Shakespeare’s “immoralism” (172), as observed by A. C. Bradley in his interpreta- tion of Macbeth and other tragedies. In short, Holbrook’s analyses invariably lead to the classic impasse of liberal- ism: either individuals doing their own thing is compatible with construction of a livable society, or it is not—in which case, we must accept that “Shakespeare’s indi- vidualism limits his ethical commitments” (35). “Freedom, individuality and authenticity may be vulnerable to critique from the view-point of ethical or social theory . . . but they are also now well-nigh incontestable, simply the groundwork of our world” for which Shakespeare “did not provide a philosophical defence . . . but . . . did bequeath a poetical one” (238). “ This commitment to liberty and indi- viduality,” writes Holbrook, “is the main reason we should read [Shakespeare] today” (228). Such is Holbrook’s loaded conclusion, the stakes of which I cannot fully unpack in the short space of this review. Here I can only sketch out why, pace Hegel, I do not find Holbrook’s supporting assertions convincing, in order to then briefly explain how I see his book as a reflection of certain contemporary anxieties in Shakespeare studies. It is difficult to dispute the claim that Shakespeare depicts modern individuals, human beings who seem closer to postromantic moderns than to duty-bound heroes like Oedipus or Antigone. Indeed, Holbrook is in full agreement with Hegel when the latter writes that Shakespearean drama “takes for its proper sub- ject matter . . . the subjective inner life of the character who is not, as in classical tragedy, a purely individual embodiment of ethical powers” (like family duty or civic authority).4 But Holbrook wants this claim to stand in for a conclusion, whereas Hegel is simply making an observation that frames the problem of moder- 3 See Hegel, “Virtue and the Way of the World,” in The Phenomenology of Spirit, 228–35. 4 G. W. F. Hegel, “Dramatic Poetry,” from Aesthetics: Lectures on Fine Art, in Philosophers on Shakespeare, ed. Paul A. Kottman (Stanford: Stanford UP, 2009), 57–85, esp. “Dramatic Poetry,” 73. BOOK REVIEWS 109 nity, which Shakespeare grasps and depicts better than any other artist (at least in Hegel’s view). Put simply, by appealing to the very same fact upon which Shakespearean drama is constructed, Hegel offers a trenchant critique of the “individualism” exalted by Holbrook: when human beings act, our actions never merely express our individual intentions, authentic desires, aims or passions—rather, our actions invariably throw us into the “sphere of the real world and its particular concerns.”5 This much is as true for Hamlet as it was for Antigone, since dramas show how our actions always implicate us in a broader social world and by the same token show how the fate of a social world itself unfolds through our individual actions. If our worldly ties are not transformed by what we do, then no drama would be possible, and particular (individual, authentic) agents would not come to light as such. So, Holbrook’s individualism on its own cannot fully explain modern life or Shakespeare’s depiction of it, because what matters—for Shakespeare as for Hegel, inasmuch as both are concerned with drama, with the stakes of actions—is how individual words and deeds cohere and form a shared practical world. What makes the “subjective inner life” of Shakespeare’s characters compelling is not their self- interested motives or “authentic desires; what must strike us is how their words and deeds imply and inflect a network of inheritable practices (kinship ties, civic rela- tions, economic bonds, military duties). Because Holbrook misses this point, his book also fails to capture what Hegel identifies as the heart of Shakespeare’s radical modernity. Since, as Hegel says, the particular, individual “interest” and “aims” of Shakespeare’s characters are never entirely absorbable by “the concrete spheres of family, church, state” and so on, the upshot of their dramatic interactions cannot be fully explained by the practical world their actions inflect.6 For instance, because Antony and Cleopatra’s aims are not immediately those of Rome or Egypt their fates still beg explanation, even after the consequences of their actions for Rome and Egypt come to light. What we per- ceive in Shakespeare, as distinct from classical tragedy, is an uncanny split between the subjective fate of individuals (Antony and Cleopatra’s joy and suffering) and the objective social outcome (as depicted, say, in Caesar’s conquest of Egypt), even as we also see that subjective-individual fates cannot be realized without a correspon- dent objective-social-historical horizon. With this in mind, it becomes clearer how Holbrook’s book reflects deep anxi- eties in contemporary Shakespeare studies. On the one hand, new historicism and cultural materialism have trained a generation of scholars to see in Shakespeare’s plays the objective concerns of the culture from which the plays spring, rather than the subjective fates of modern individuals who, to stick with Hegel’s phrasing, “come to ruin because of [a] decisive adherence to themselves.”7 On the other hand, 5 Hegel, “Dramatic Poetry,” 73. 6 Hegel,“Dramatic Poetry,” 73. In Hegel’s words, the “aims” of Shakespeare’s characters “are broadly and variously particularized and in such detail that what is truly substantial can often glimmer through them in only a very dim way” (“Dramatic Poetry,” 73). 7 Hegel, “Dramatic Poetry,” 11. 110 SHAKESPEARE QUARTERLY a historicist approach to drama only convinces if the fates of individual characters appear immediately absorbable by the concerns of the social world to which they belong, as in Attic tragedy.8 So inasmuch as Shakespeare stages the irreducibility of the woe and weal of individual human beings to the fate of the society to which they belong (whether “Denmark,” “Venice,” or Elizabethan-Jacobean society), a his- toricist approach to Shakespearean drama, if not to modern life tout court, cannot but fail to fully satisfy. By returning our attention to the tremendous power of Shakespeare over the post-Romantic view of “individualism,” Holbrook succeeds in reminding us of an unresolved anxiety about Shakespeare and his (or our) modernity: namely, it is not clear that a shared social context can wholly explain or reflect the meaning of any of our individual actions. But because Holbrook does not adequately elucidate this basic problem, the “individualism” that his book advocates seems, finally, as empty as the shapes of modern individuality which Hegel dispatched. Nonetheless, the romantic anxiety from which Holbrook’s book springs—an abiding sense that we cannot simply historicize Shakespeare (or ourselves) because our shared practical world fails to completely account for our individual experiences, sufferings, and joys—is not misplaced. The ongoing depth of this anxiety makes Shakespeare even more urgent, and contemporary, than either Holbrook or the historicists have grasped. Ecocriticism and Shakespeare: Reading Ecophobia. By SIMON C. ESTOK. New York: Palgrave, 2011. Illus. Pp. x + 182. $80.00 cloth. Ecocritical Shakespeare. Edited by DAN BRAY TON and LYNNE BRUCKNER. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2011. Illus. Pp. xxiv + 280. $99.95 cloth. Reviewed by REBECCA ANN BACH Simon C. Estok’s monograph Ecocriticism and Shakespeare makes a case for the term “ecophobia,” a term that he hopes will help Shakespeareans to see connections between ecocriticism, feminist criticism, sexuality studies, and studies of racism and anti-Semitism (2–3). He promises in the introduction that “the pages that follow will offer nuanced and developed close-readings of Shakespearean drama” through an approach that “encompasses feminism, queer theory, critical racial 8 Not coincidentally, the most elegant and convincing defense of a historicist approach to drama of which I am aware is given by the venerable classicist Jean-Pierre Vernant. See Vernant’s succinct discussion of Antigone and historicist scholarship in “Greek Tragedy: Problems of Interpretation,” in The Structuralist Controversy: The Languages of Criticism and the Sciences of Man, ed. Richard Macksey and Eugenio Donato (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1970), 273–89. Precisely because the fate of Antigone is also the fate of the social world to which she belongs (as Hegel of course knew), one cannot but read Sophocles’ play as overdetermined by the cultural context in which it was first produced and performed. 
work_apseb4m5cfc2jeuszj3gtxzjzi	----	Microsoft Word - full dissertation.docx B093509 1 Examination Number: B093509 Title of work: Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thomas Carlyle on Slavery: Transatlantic Dissentions and Philosophical Connections Programme Name: MSc United States Literature Graduate School of Literatures, Languages & Cultures University of Edinburgh Word count: 15 000 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1857) Source: ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/e/emerson/ralph_waldo/portrait.jpg Thomas Carlyle (1854) Source: archive.org/stream/pastandpresent06carlgoog#page/n10/mode/2up B093509 2 Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thomas Carlyle on Slavery: Transatlantic Dissentions and Philosophical Connections Table of Contents Introduction 3 Chapter One: On Slavery and Labor: Racist Characterizations and 7 Economic Justifications Chapter Two On Democracy and Government: Ruling Elites and 21 Moral Diptychs Chapter Three On War and Abolition: Transoceanic Tensions and 35 Amicable Resolutions Conclusion 49 Bibliography 51 B093509 3 Introduction In his 1841 essay on “Friendship”, Ralph Waldo Emerson defined a “friend” as “a sort of paradox in nature” (348). Perhaps emulating that paradoxical essence, Emerson’s essay was pervaded with constant contradictions: while reiterating his belief in the “absolute insulation of man” (353), Emerson simultaneously depicted “friends” as those who “recognize the deep identity which beneath these disparities unites them” (“Friendship” 350). Relating back to the Platonic myth of recognition, by which one’s soul recognizes what it had previously seen and forgotten, Emerson defined a friend as that “Other” in which one is able to perceive oneself. As Johannes Voelz argued in Transcendental Resistance, “for Emerson, friendship … is a relationship from which we want to extract identity. Friendship is a relationship from which we seek recognition” (137). Indeed, Emerson was mostly concerned with what he called “high friendship” (“Friendship” 350) - an abstract ideality, which inevitably creates “a tension between potentiality and actuality” (Voelz 136). Acting as a compromise between isolation and symbiosis, epistolary friendship occupied a great part of Emerson’s definition: in his letter-shaped essay, the author indeed described a “letter” as that “spiritual gift worthy of him to give, and of me to receive” (“Friendship” 351). When Essays: First Series was published in 1841, Emerson had been corresponding with Thomas Carlyle for seven years already: the two had met in Edinburgh in 1833, on Emerson’s first European tour (1832-1833). Their epistolary friendship had begun immediately after their encounter and lasted until 1873. For Emerson, Carlyle had become that “beautiful enemy” (“Friendship” 351) with whom he would exchange letters for over five decades. For Carlyle, his American correspondent was the interlocutor he respected the most. After Emerson’s friend Charles Elliot Norton published their letters in a posthumous collection, Emerson and Carlyle’s exchange became available to read for admirers and B093509 4 scholars. Raising quite a momentum among its contemporaries, the Correspondence was indeed positively welcomed as a breach into the philosophers’ lives: as indicated in a review of the same year, published in The Atlantic Monthly, “the special charm of the correspondence lies … in its being human rather than literary” (560). Commented upon by Henry James and Edgar Allan Poe, Emerson and Carlyle’s relationship raised, however, less and less critical interest throughout the twentieth century. Whereas Emerson came to be progressively considered as American literature’s canonical author, Carlyle’s conservatism as well as his racist remarks spoiled the writer’s reputation. Overshadowed by Emerson's modern approach to matters of race and class, Carlyle became known as bigot and was therefore less appreciated by modern critics, who hardly understood his friendship with Emerson. Whereas Emerson’s fellowship with Henry David Thoreau - his Transcendentalist friend and disciple – was abundantly described by critics, his relationship with Thomas Carlyle was never exhaustively explained. The critical interrogation of how Carlyle, a British conservative, had become one of Emerson’s closest friends is still partly unsolved. In 1978, Marc Harris handled that contradiction by referring to their relationship as a “debate”: in Their Long Debate, he thus defined their friendship as a transatlantic, epistolary debate of ideas. A few years later, Harris’ approach was compounded by Len Gougeon’s. Adding a new dimension to previous criticism, Gougeon chose to examine Emerson and Carlyle’s relationship through the prism of race and politics. In “Emerson, Carlyle and the Civil War”, he concluded that, despite major dissentions, the two friends “were able to maintain a long and cordial relationship largely by ignoring or avoiding areas of disagreement and by refraining from publicly criticizing one another’s political views” (Gougeon 403). Drawing on past criticism, Thomas Constantinesco more recently contributed to the critical discussion on Emerson and Carlyle’s “discordant” friendship as he examined the financial dimension of B093509 5 their correspondence. He indeed observed that, writing before the Copyright Act of 1891, most of the authors’ initial exchanges revolved around Emerson’s efforts to safeguard Carlyle’s financial interests among U.S. editors and bankers. The common leitmotif pervading all these analyses - precisely the “paradoxical” nature of their friendship - will be the core element of my work. I will indeed base my understanding of their relationship on the axiom that a friend is a “sort of paradox in nature”, thus interpreting Emerson and Carlyle’s personal dissentions as the reflection of dissentions of their time. Focusing on the abolition of slavery in the United States, I will therefore consider the socio-historical changes that agitated America throughout the first half of the nineteenth century as a prism to examine the “convergences” and “divergences” of the authors’ philosophical thinking. I will indeed analyze Emerson and Carlyle’s exchange in correlation to their personal stances on the question of slavery - which challenged both authors in a problematic way. On the one hand, abolitionism revealed the inadequacy of Emerson’s transcendentalist ideals to political and social issues. On the other, Carlyle’s curt stance on the matter continues to reassert the inadaptability of his theories to modern audiences. The abolition of slavery also majorly put their relationship to test: it is indeed during the American Civil War that Emerson and Carlyle’s friendship faced its major crisis. However, the two authors quickly overcame tensions and, as Bret E. Kinser concluded, “[p]rivate cattiness and intellectual disputes aside, there was no other intellectual on either side of the Atlantic whom Carlyle respected more; the same can be said of Emerson about Carlyle” (Shaping 42). While examining Emerson and Carlyle’s respective stances on questions of labor, democracy, and war, my purpose will be to debunk the general tendency to perceive the two authors as intellectual polar opposites. Examining how slavery became throughout the years the point of convergence of the authors’ philosophical dissentions, I will demonstrate the B093509 6 sincerity of their friendship when faced with major transatlantic dissentions. Relying on literary secondary criticism, historical accounts, and a selection of primary sources, my understanding of Emerson and Carlyle’s Correspondence will be based on a series of close- reading analyses of some of their foundational texts, all written between 1844 and 1865. In chapter one, I will focus on Emerson’s and Carlyle’s reaction to the abolition of slavery in the British West Indies: outlining the predominance of the economic factor in both approaches, I will insist on the importance of labor in their respective defense or attack of slavery. I will then scrutinize the authors’ approaches to government and democracy in chapter two: showcasing the influence of Romantic ideals on their thinking I will demonstrate that both authors believed in the necessity of a ruling elite. Eventually, in chapter three, I will analyze how the Civil War undermined their relationship and made it the mirror of the transatlantic tensions of their time. B093509 7 Chapter One - On Slavery and Labor: Racist Characterizations and Economic Justifications Initially reluctant to take a clear political stand on the question, Ralph Waldo Emerson openly joined the abolitionist cause for the first time in 1844 in an address on the “Emancipation of the Negroes in the British West Indies”: as Len Gougeon remarked, “Emerson’s 1 August address was a milestone” (“Militant” 623). British abolition of slavery came with great surprise to its contemporaries as well as to latter-day historians, who still wonder why did the European country with the most successful slave trade become the center of the strongest abolitionist movement? To answer that question, it is important to realize that the 1807 abolition of slave-trade and the following emancipation of West Indian slaves in 1834, were not mere acts of Parliament but were the outcomes of an increasingly strong social movement; British Parliament only took up the cause of slave trade because it was obliged to by public pressure. It is thus relevant to consider the public rhetoric that surrounded abolitionism, looking at its supporters as well as its opponents on both sides of the Atlantic. Praising Britain’s decision to abolish slavery, Emerson used his address to condemn the immorality of the so-called “Institution” and defined its abolition in the Southern States as a matter of moral necessity. Contrary to Emerson, Thomas Carlyle received the news of emancipation with great disappointment. Convinced of black people’s natural idleness, Carlyle defended slavery as a necessary system and advocated its expansion to the rest of the British Empire in his 1849 “Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question”. A comparative study of Emerson and Carlyle’s reactions to British emancipation will help reveal the transatlantic consonances and dissentions surrounding the question of abolition, in the years preceding the American Civil War. B093509 8 I/ Dialectic of Words and Action In “Emancipation in the British West Indies”, Emerson welcomed emancipation as the concretization of ethical rhetoric: he celebrated the fact that words had now been compounded by action on “a day which gave the immense fortification of a fact, of gross history, to ethical abstractions” (1). For him, the abolition of slavery finally complemented abolitionists’ abstract morality with the practical materiality of a ruling: he therefore rejoiced over the achievement of “practical ethics” (14), which he defined as the final communion of “the material and the moral nature” (Emerson, “West Indies” 2). Abolishing slavery is indeed presented as a way of obeying a higher moral law, or as Emerson wrote, “the dictates of humanity” - “When we consider what remains to be done for this interest in this country, the dictates of humanity make us tender of such as are not yet persuaded” (“West Indies” 1). For him, fighting against slavery was a way of conforming to one’s inherent, moral nature. In Kantian terms, Emerson saw it as part of a “categorical imperative” to act morally: the opposition to human bondage is therefore presented as inherent in one’s own body, for “blood is moral: the blood is anti-slavery: it runs cold in the veins: the stomach rises in disgust, and curses slavery” (Emerson, “West Indies” 3). Moreover, Emerson stated that individual moral imperatives should also be enacted on a collective scale: the body politic should be aiming at that “sentiment of Right, once very low and indistinct, but ever more articulate, because it is the voice of the universe” (“West Indies” 17). The civility of the United States depended upon the abolition of the country’s biggest sin, for “the civility of no race can be perfect whilst another race is degraded” (Emerson, “West Indies” 17). Furthermore, Emerson praised British figures such as Granville Sharpe who had accepted no compromise - “Granville Sharpe, as a matter of conscience … felt constrained to record his protest against the limitation, declaring that slavery was as much as a crime against the Divine law as the slave-trade” (“West Indies” 4). Expressions such as “matter of conscience” B093509 9 and “Divine law” show that abolition was not a matter of political altercations: elevating the public scene with a moral sense seemed “indispensable” in Emerson’s eyes, “The civility of the world has reached that pitch that their more moral genius is becoming indispensable” (“West Indies” 17). In a letter written to his Carlyle in December 1862, Emerson had emphasized once again the prevalence of morality in national matters - “The war is our sole & doleful instructer. All the bright young men go into it, to be misused & sacrificed hitherto by incapable leaders. One lesson they all learn, -to hate slavery, teterrima causa. But the issue does not yet appear. We must get ourselves morally right. Nobody can help us” (Correspondence 536). In line with Emerson’s idea of progress, abolishing slavery was part of that trajectory by which humanity was defined, and in which Emerson believed: “The history of mankind interests us only as it exhibits a steady gain of truth and right” (“West Indies” 2). Slavery had to be abolished precisely because it went against progress – “Slavery is no scholar, no improver” (Emerson, “West Indies” 10). Whereas Emerson celebrated abolitionism as the material application of abstract moral imperatives, Thomas Carlyle indicted the hypocrisy of anti-slavery rhetoric. In his “Occasional Discourse”, he strongly condemned the ontological emptiness of abolitionist speeches - “Sunk in deep froth-oceans of ‘Benevolence,’ ‘Fraternity,’ ‘Emancipation- Principle,’ ‘Christian Philanthropy,’” “rosepink Sentimentalism” (671). If it weren’t for their epistolary friendship, one would think that it is Emerson that Carlyle had in mind while writing these words, “no longer as windy sentimentalists that merely have speeches to deliver and despatches to write” (“Occasional Discourse” 672). However bigot Carlyle may have seemed, Brent E. Kinser devoted his article “Fearful Symmetry” to defend the author by acknowledging that even if he “may have been simply an unconverted bigot or a masochistic satirist, … it is also true that in 1867 the dance of hypocrisy and bigotry in Anglo-American national discourse twirled merrily along. Democracy was expanded in yet another reform, but B093509 10 not for women” (160). Carlyle’s questioning of the British Parliament was justified when he wondered why, if it were moral outrage that was leading Britain’s abolition of slavery, did they not invade Cuba or Brazil to stop the same injustice: “The political and economical impossibility of these ventures was an open secret. … If moral outrage was at stake on the question of universal emancipation, then Britain should and in fact would act to stop it” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 159). II/ “Blackness” According to Carlyle: Slaves’ Laziness and Laissez-faire Madness In “Occasional Discourse”, Carlyle’s derogatory depiction of West Indian slaves is conveyed through a particularly violent language, which revolted most of the author’s contemporaries when the text was published: as Kinser remarks, the “public reception of ‘An Occasional Discourse,’ … was met with a veritable fire-storm of rejection” (“Fearful Symmetry” 141). Carlyle’s tone is indeed deeply patronizing, and his characterization of black people, referred to as “[o]ur beautiful Black darlings”, “sweet blighted lilies” (“Occasional Discourse” 671), is strongly racist. Throughout the text, the attention is constantly brought on black people’s idleness, which somehow served to attribute them the responsibility of their own enslavement - “while the sugar-crops rot round them uncut” (671), “[t]he idle black man in the West Indies” (“Occasional Discourse” 674). According to Carlyle, slaves had no merit nor did they deserve any recognition: “And now observe, my friends, it was not Black Quashee or those he represents that made those West India Islands what they are” (“Occasional Discourse” 674). West Indian slaves are thus portrayed as opportunistic, idle figures: the ignorant, unaware “fortunate Black man” is described as merrier than “the less fortunate White man” (“Occasional Discourse” 672). Yet the extremeness of Carlyle’s language forces us to wonder: “Is it satire, insanity, or something else?” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 156). As Kinser pinpointed, “[t]he one apparent point of B093509 11 consensus in any review of the literature surrounding the essay/pamphlet leads to an overwhelming question: Why return to such a noxious declaration of Victorian racialism?” (“Fearful Symmetry” 140). It is true that, from the very beginning, Carlyle establishes a distance between his statements and himself through a frame narrative: the text indeed “begins with the creation of narrative distance between Carlyle and his text” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 143). “Occasional Discourse”, published anonymously, was indeed initially attributed to the fictional “Dr. Phelim M’Quirk” (Carlyle 670). If one were to side with Kinser’s reading of the “Discourse” as strongly satirical and ironic, Carlyle’s vocabulary would suddenly become easier to handle and less monstrous to accept - “If one imagines an unreliably mocking voice, on the other hand, then M’Quirk’s lecture becomes high satirical comedy, ridiculous and dark with an element of truth that shocks as it informs” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry 144). In his article “Carlyle’s Frederick the Great and the ‘sham-kings’ of the American South”, David Sorensen seemed to agree with Kinser that “the critical assault against him had frequently mistaken his rhetorical smoke for the actual fire of his convictions” (92). However, Carlyle’s belief in the inferiority of black people is present in other of his other texts, proving his racism to be more of a personal belief than a satirical tool. In his 1867 article “Shooting Niagara: And After?”, Carlyle described black people as follows: One always rather likes the Nigger; evidently a poor blackhead with good dispositions, with affections, attachments, … -he is the only Savage of all the coloured races that doesn’t die out on sight of the White Man; but can actually live beside him, and work and increase and be merry. The Almighty Maker has appointed him to be a Servant. (321) Degrading and patronizing expressions such as “a poor blackhead with good dispositions”, B093509 12 “only Savage” leave no possible doubt on Carlyle’s racism. In a letter addressed to Emerson, in April 1849, Carlyle wrote: “For they will all have to learn that man does need government, and that an able-embodied starving beggar is and remains (whatever Exeter Hall may say to it) a Slave destitute of a Master” (Correspondence 453). In Carlyle’s mind, slavery appeared as a necessity for society - as suggested by the use of stative verbs such as “need”, “is”, “remains”. Carlyle’s defense of slavery was based on the pretense “existence of an ideal hierarchy and on a divine relationship between master and servant” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 152). As he would repeat in 1850, Carlyle believed that a naturally-mandated chain of beings had established that the “Noble [should be] in the high place, the Ignoble in the low; that is, in all times and in all countries, the Almighty Maker's Law” (Carlyle, “Present Time” 22). According to him, white people should be Masters and black people should be Slaves - “decidedly you will have to be servants to those that are born wiser than you, that are born lords of you- servants to the whites” (Carlyle, “Occasional Discourse” 676). For Carlyle, racial inferiority indeed manifested itself as idleness: “our Black West Indies and our White Ireland, … these two extremes of lazy refusal to work” (Carlyle, “Present Time” 27). First acknowledging that the “character of Carlyle’s language when he discusses race deserves no defense,” (Shaping 20) Bret E. Kinser remarked that “knowing the divine importance of work within Carlyle’s vision of repairing the social ills of the world, it is important to acknowledge that the mordant side of his rhetoric is most visible in discussions of race or class where, according to his knowledge, the performance of work has been stopped, voluntarily or otherwise” (Shaping 20). Although extremely racist, Carlyle’s vision of West Indian emancipation was not limited to an insulting account of its population: Carlyle’s racist theory is based on an economic argument. Convinced that “West Indian slaves are emancipated, and it appears refuse to work” (Carlyle, “Present time” 25), Carlyle proclaimed their racial inferiority in the name of work ethic. B093509 13 Presenting slavery as the only solution to idleness, he considers emancipation as a failure: “Emancipation … had failed because the freed slaves had not become members of the social fabric – they had refused to work” (Kinser, Shaping 21). In contrast with slaves’ idleness, the Anglo-Saxon race is, on the other hand, celebrated by Carlyle as being born to rule: “Who it may be that has a right to raise pumpkins and other produce on those Islands, perhaps none can, except temporarily, decide”, “Up to this time it is the Saxon British mainly; they hitherto have cultivated with some manfulness” (“Occasional Discourse” 674). Based on the conviction that black people are “savages”, Carlyle saw slavery as one of his “favorite solutions to the problem of labor, a return to feudal relationships … whereby slaves would be, like the serfs, attached permanently to land, so when the land exchanged hands, the slaves would remain with it” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 151). His praise of the slave system derived from the belief that the permanence inherent in the slave/master relationship is far better than the instability of a working contract in a liberal context: as Kinser rightfully pinpoints in his article, “What Carlyle repeatedly claimed to be precious in slavery was the fact of its permanence, not its injustice (152). Carlyle’s defense of slavery was therefore mostly based on socio-economic factors : for him, “the only possible way to reconcile the problems or labor and of the general social malaise of humanity” (Kinser, “Fearful Symmetry” 152), Carlyle maintained and reiterated that viewpoint until 1867, when he asserted that “Servantship, like all solid contracts between men (like wedlock itself, which was once nomadic enough, temporary enough!), must become a contract of permanency, not easy to dissolve, but difficult extremely” (“Shooting Niagara” 322). Strongly opposed to laissez-faire economics, Carlyle thus thought that slavery could provide a better, long-term stability which liberalism failed to offer. Less stubbornly racist than one ought to think, Carlyle’s defense of slavery appears to have been in the name of social and economic balance, more than for purely pseudo-scientific, racist reasons. B093509 14 III/ Emerson’s Plea(s): Civic Freedom and Economic Liberty Contrary to his friend’s insistence on idleness, Emerson repeatedly emphasized slaves’ “good order, decorum and gratitude” (8) in his address on West Indian emancipation - “The negroes were called together by the missionaries and by the planters, and the news [of emancipation] explained to them. … they met everywhere at their churches and chapels, and at midnight, when the clock struck twelve, on their knees, the silent, weeping assembly became men” (“West Indies” 6). Emerson’s depiction strongly contrasts with Carlyle’s portrayal of black people as “savages”; references to “churches and chapels”, as well as the assertion “became men”, puts black people on the side of civilization and on a parallel position to whites. Emerson recognized black people as citizens, whom he defined as “the most helpless citizen in her [Britain’s] world-wide realm” (11); he included them into the world of civilization, “[t]here are many styles of civilization, and not only one” (“West Indies” 9). Emerson’s acceptance of black people as part of civilization was revolutionary yet needs to be carefully analyzed: in fact, Emerson’s decision was not based on the non-racist conviction that black and white people are equal, but originated in his “theory of progress”. Ten years after West Indies’ emancipation, “Emerson decided that the freed blacks in the West Indies had indeed improved themselves, which convinced him that the ameliorative principle applied to all races” (Harris 155). It is their capacity to ameliorate which brought him to recognize blacks as civilized, not a deep conviction in racial equality. Emerson’s attitude towards black people was generally that of an apologetic yet patronizing speaker, who praises the ones he knows have been victims of injustice - “These men, our benefactors, as they are producers of corn and wine, of coffee, of tobacco, of cotton, of sugar, of rum and brandy; gentle and joyous themselves and producers of comfort and luxury for the civilized B093509 15 world, -there seated in the finest climates of the globe, children of the sun” (“West Indies” 2). Generalizations such as the anonymous-sounding plural “these men”, compounded with the periphrasis “children of the sun”, denies these men their singularities and presents them as a whole. The fact that slaves are only described through their workforce suggests that slavery dehumanized them – as shown by the words “producers” and by the enumeration of agricultural products from the colonies “corn and wine, of coffee, of tobacco, of cotton, of sugar, of rum and brandy”. However, abolition is defined by Emerson as the act of returning to black people the humanity and dignity that have been stolen from them: “The First of August marks the entrance of a new element into modern politics, namely, the civilization of the negro. A man is added to the human family” (“West Indies” 15). As Len Gougeon pinpoints, Emerson “is arguably the first white American intellectual to call for use of federal force in the defense of African Americans’ civil rights” (624). Nevertheless, Emerson believed that slaves should be active participants of their own emancipation. For Emerson, the improvement of their condition was indeed based on their capacity to become “the anti-slave”: “the arrival in the world of such men as Toussaint, and the Haytian heroes, or of the leaders of their race in Barbados and Jamaica … the might and the right are here: here is the anti-slave: here is man: and if you have man, black or white is an insignificance” (“West Indies” 16). By praising men such as “Toussaint”, Emerson also simultaneously referred to heroes such as Frederick Douglass - who was in the crowd as Emerson delivered his speech. Douglass “was both a model of and inspired by that avatar of resistance as Emerson conceived of and presented him”, notes Gougeon (“Militant” 623). Emerson certainly felt that his addresses could change some minds but the majority of the action resided, according to him, in the hands of African Americans: as Len Gougeon explains, “the responsibility slaves bear for achieving their freedom far outweighs anything that an abolitionist might do for them” (“Militant” 625). For Emerson, it is thanks to a few B093509 16 exceptional individuals, the anti-slaves, that the revolution would occur. “Several years before Charles Darwin and Herbert Spenser, Emerson envisioned a world dominated by a principle somewhat akin to ‘survival of the fittest’”, as Gougeon observed “‘fitness’ was not merely biological but focused as well on character and personal integrity” (“Militant” 626). Thus, whereas Carlyle based his justification of slavery on the pretense inferiority of black people, Emerson countered that argument – shared by many of Carlyle’s contemporaries – by welcoming black people in the world of the Civilized. Emerson overturned the foundational racist argument on which slavery resides, by which one is “allowed” to enslave for a slave is not a person: “If the black man is feeble and not important to the existing races, not on a parity with the best race, the black man must serve, and be exterminated” (“West Indies” 16). Yet Emerson proved that if black man were recognized as “man”, then slavery was an obvious barbarity: “But if the black man carries in his bosom an indispensable element of a new and coming civilization, for the sake of that element, no wrong, nor strength nor circumstance can hurt him” (“West Indies” 16). The rhetoric of master and slave, defined as natural hierarchy by Carlyle, was therefore ironized by Emerson. Instead of a divine hierarchy of beings, Emerson recounted a completely haphazard choice of “boxes”: the Great Spirit, in the beginning, offered the black man, whom he loved better than the buckra, or white, his choice of two boxes, a big and a little one. The black man was greedy, and chose the largest. ‘The buckra box was full up with pen, paper and whip, and the negro box with hoe and bill; and hoe and bill for negro to this day.” (“Emancipation” 2) Emerson powerfully overthrew pro-slavery arguments as he reversed the master/slave relationship - “It was shown to the planters that they, as well as negroes, were slaves” B093509 17 (“Emancipation” 10). Masters become slaves in a world in which the “oppression of the slave recoiled on them” (10): Emerson’s rhetorical ability was extremely successful as his tone became (sarcastically) empathetic towards slave-owners, “Many planters have said, since the emancipation, that, before that day, they were the greatest slaves on the estates” (“West Indies” 10). Emerson went as far as describing emancipation as masters’ revolution, “It was the masters revolting from their mastery” (“Emancipation” 13). Throughout his address, Emerson strategically included slave-owners as part of his audience for he quickly understood the strategic power of offering them “the practical advantages likely to accrue to such commercial interests from the abolition of slavery” (Rowe 28). Convinced that free labor would benefit the economy, Emerson resorted to the economic argument as a way of rallying everyone to his cause. As John Carlos Rowe remarked, “Far from meeting the lofty demands of Emerson’s transcendentalist ethics, his argument … embraces thoroughly practical solutions that are in the best interests of the expanding, commercial, capitalist, and Northern interests he had hitherto claimed to criticize so profoundly” (29). While condemning trade for its immoral consequences, Emerson however "acknowledges that the British and Americans share a commercial character that must be considered by abolitionists” (Rowe 28) However, Emerson never seemed to resolve the ambiguity between the commercial nature of men and the immoral nature of trade. On the one hand, Emerson was highly critical towards white men in power: he emphasized their lack of morality, and pointed out “the existence, beside the covetousness, of a bitterer element, the love of power, the voluptuousness of holding a human being in his absolute control” (“West Indies” 7). This led to passages of self-criticism in which it is the whole Western civilization that Emerson accused: “Ours is full of barbarities. There are many faculties in man, each of which takes its turn of activity, … and each age thinks its own the perfection of reason” (“West Indies” 9). Emerson’s criticism towards American politics was moreover paralleled B093509 18 by a praise of British liberals, for it is on a transatlantic comparison that Emerson based his argument: “America is not civil” (17), he wrote, while singing the praises of “All the great geniuses of the British senate, Fox, Pitt, Burke, Greenville, Sheridan, Grey, Canning, ranged themselves on its side” (“West Indies” 14). Emerson insisted on the British origins of the United States in numerous occurrences - “as we are the expansion of that people” (9), “Whilst I have read of England, I have thought of New England” (“Emancipation” 13). Emerson’s praise of Britain, and his desire for America to imitate England’s decisions is quite surprising considering America’s violent rejection of its European roots that motivated the War of Independence. Yet Emerson saw no borders when it came to the Saxon race, which he depicted as dominating the world and about which he concluded, “The genius of the Saxon race, friendly to liberty; the enterprise, the very muscular vigor of this nation, are inconsistent with slavery” (“Emancipation” 17). On the other hand, Emerson did not only rejoice over that civic freedom brought on by emancipation, yet he also welcomed it for bringing economic liberty, i.e. the freedom to work - Labor. As Sofia Forster observe, “Antebellum free labor abolitionists celebrated the capitalist economic system for conferring on the laborer intrinsic moral and extrinsic economic improvement. Emerson shares this fundamentally liberal embrace of the capitalist marketplace, but he values it for a somewhat different reason” (36). Indeed, Emerson’s positive understanding of labor consisted in the belief that labor could educate “the individual in creative self-development rather than stern self-discipline” (Forster 40). Having inherited what William Ellery Channing defined as “self-culture”, Emerson was convinced that capitalism and labor enables “self-development”, i.e. the “expansion of the self’s innate faculties and capacities” (Forster 36). “Despite Emerson’s famous disparagements of Unitarianism, transcendentalism is deeply indebted to Unitarian doctrines, and perhaps most significantly to the idea of self-culture” (44), and, as Forster explained in “Peculiar Faculty and Peculiar Institution”, “[t]his construction of labor [as positive], as B093509 19 motivated by desire rather than necessity and as producing power in the form of education rather than self-discipline, …was published the year after Channing’s Slavery and the year before the labor speeches” (Forster 48). What Emerson called “self-development” consisted in the communion of headwork and handwork achieved through labor: by accomplishing a task, the individual puts his physical skills at the service of his mental ones. Thus, posing “handwork and headwork as providing equal conditions of possibility for self-development” (Forster 53), Emerson elevated labor. Yet, in “Emerson’s model, legal freedom is the condition of possibility for the individual’s [right] of choice in occupation” (Forster 61) and capitalism is presented as the condition of this kind of self-development. It is capitalism’s division of labor, and thus the possibility to choose one’s occupation, that allows the individual to put his best skills into action and thus realize a perfect headwork-handwork balance. According to these views, one understands why the “abolitionist platform, primarily during the 1850s and early 1860s, … derided the pseudo-feudal slave economy of the South for disabling the economic health of the nation, but also the economic well-being of individual slaves and slave-owners” (Forster 38). As Emerson said with regards to the Emancipation in the British West Indies, “I think I must not hesitate to satisfy that man that also his cream and vanilla are safer and cheaper by placing the negro nation on a fair footing than by robbing them” (“West Indies” 2): “Emphasizing the profits that will accrue not only to former slaves but also to their owners from the shift to capitalism’s system of wages, Emerson’s rhetoric seems fully in line with the so-called free labor doctrine” (Forster 38). Emerson’s pragmatic rejoicing over Emancipation’s economic benefits seems to support the argument suggested by some “that Emersonianism, despite Emerson’s vigorous criticism of industrialism and materialism in his own time, nevertheless provides a splendid intellectual rationale for Jacksonian democracy and thus emergent industrial capitalism” (Rowe 22). Countering a primarily aesthetic and ethic understanding of Emerson’s thinking, Rowe B093509 20 indeed argued that, in some regards, Emerson’s stance would be “an explicit instance of an ‘aesthetic ideology’ working to support the very social forces it overtly criticizes” (22-23). Despite holding opposite views on the question of the abolition of slavery, Carlyle and Emerson both recognized the importance of the economic factor with regards to slavery. On the one hand, Carlyle’s critique of liberalism’s instability brought him to defend slavery for its more reassuring “work-relations". On the other hand, Emerson’s plea for civic freedom was doubled by a plea for economic liberty: convinced that labor was beneficial to the individual, Emerson advocated the economic advantages of free labor while simultaneously attacking slavery’s immorality. In the early stages of his abolitionist path, Emerson’s indictment against slavery was strongly intertwined with his patriotic sentiment: in his eyes, the stain of slavery polluted the moral nature of Puritan America. As he wrote, “the Union is already at an end when the first citizen of Massachusetts is thus outraged” (“West Indies” 12). Although Emerson’s condemnation of slavery would always be in the name of a Higher law, the thinker did not always identify it in the idea of State: as Lawrence Buell remarked, “Emerson's activist turn in the 1850s thrust him at first down a decidedly antinationalist, anticapitalist path, toward a schismatic regionalism that divided Yankeedom itself into a hegemony of venial compromisers versus embattled true-believing latter-day Puritans standing for the higher law” (273). B093509 21 Chapter Two On Democracy and Government: Ruling Elites and Moral Diptychs Regarded as one of the dark days of American history, 1850’s “Fugitive Slave Law” brought noxious changes to the lives of African-Americans. Establishing that fugitive slaves should be returned to their masters, the “Fugitive Slave Law” reenacted what had already been formulated in 1793. Through a series of rulings, “the Compromise of 1850” aimed at maintaining a political balance between slave-states and the Northern part of the country. It is then that Ralph Waldo Emerson, deeply disappointed by the Compromise, came to the realization that the “popular assumption that all men loved freedom, and believed in the Christian religion, was found hollow American brag” (“Concord” 137). The 1850s were also a period of profound disillusionment for Thomas Carlyle. Faced with the consequences of emancipation in the British West Indies, Carlyle reiterated his distaste for democratic institutions by reasserting his skepticism about the abolition of slavery. Exasperated by British people’s fascination with American democracy, he also beseeched them to “Cease to brag me of America, and its model institutions and constitutions” (“The Present Time” 20). The political events that shook the United States in 1850 thus brought both philosophers to reflect upon the notion of “democracy”. For Carlyle, this led to a reinstatement of his earlier conviction that democracy was a system doomed to failure. For Emerson, the political events of 1850 engendered a strong distrust of political institutions and forced him into a more active role in politics. Even though their critiques rested on very different arguments, Emerson’s and Carlyle’s respective thinking were less different than one ought to imagine as both inferred the necessity of a ruling elite: as Marc Harris remarks, although Emerson and Carlyle “stood on opposite sides in these matters, the philosophical premises underlying their attitudes are not far apart” (150). Their views on democracy obviously pre-determined their B093509 22 stance on the question of slavery: therefore, a comparative study of Carlyle’s Latter-Day Pamphlets (1850) and Emerson’s 1851 “Address to the Citizens of Concord” will help us determine their stance on questions of democracy and self-government. We will thus consider these two texts through the prism of Carlyle and Emerson’s transatlantic friendship, examining the similarities and divergences of their positions. I – Carlyle Against Democracy: Elite-Ruling and American Misruling In the late 1840s, Europe was plunged into a climate of democratic revolutions, today remembered as the “Spring of Nations”. Indeed, in 1848, a wave of rebellions spread over Europe causing, among others, the French “February Revolution” and Mazzini’s rebellions in Italy. It is in this climate of democratic upheavals that Carlyle found himself as he was writing his Latter-Day Pamphlets. As Brent E. Kinser pointed out, “[t]hroughout the course of the eight monthly installments of Latter-Day Pamphlets, Carlyle incessantly attacked democracy” (Shaping 18). In a letter to Emerson written in June 1852, Carlyle himself referred to his work as “those furious Pamphlets” (Correspondence 484). Deeply shaken by the socio-political changes of his times, the Scottish thinker described himself in “The Present Time” as “I, the poor knowing person of this epoch” (13). What emerges in fact from Carlyle’s Pamphlets is the anxiety of a man who witnessed a change of which he disapproved. In his writings, the author’s tone is that of a man who is deeply preoccupied, because wary of society’s future. As his choice of vocabulary indicates, Carlyle was personally alarmed by what was going on around him - “we are advancing closer and closer to the very Problem itself” (9), “Alas, it is sad enough that Anarchy is here” (“Present Time” 12). Expressions such as “closer and closer” as well as the interjection “Alas” reflect the author’s preoccupation with Europe’s future. Carlyle’s disenchantment was caused by his B093509 23 awareness of the inevitability of such social changes: as he wrote in “The Present Time”, “universal Democracy, whatever we may think of it, has declared itself as an inevitable fact of the days in which we live” (8). While Carlyle knew that the Western world was evolving towards democracy, he felt a discrepancy between himself and “Reality”: “Democracy is the grand, alarming, imminent and indisputable Reality” (“Present Time” 9). As Emerson wrote in a letter to his friend in August 1850, “I inferred so much from the sturdy tone of these wonderful ‘Pamphlets,’ all which I have duly read as they arrived” (461); according to him, Carlyle had initiated a “crusade against the Times” (Correspondence 461). Carlyle’s anxiety about the rise of democratic systems of government essentially originated in his extreme mistrust of masses. The author perceived democracy as a persistent state of anarchic chaos - “If help or direction is not given; if the thing called Government merely drift and tumble to and fro, no-wither, on the popular vortexes, … popular indignation will infallibly accumulate upon it” (“The Present Time” 37). Indeed, Harris remarks that “as he aged, Carlyle became more and more convinced that society’s wish for order could be achieved and maintained only through the beneficent rule of a dictator” (118). As David Sorensen demonstrated in “Carlyle’s Frederick the Great and the ‘Sham- Kings’ of the American South”, Carlyle’s fascination for strong leaders was strongly tied to his understanding of latter-day politics: as Kinser also observed, “Frederick William, for Carlyle, cruel and despotic though he may have been, represented an important example of leadership in an era marked by chaos” (Shaping 30). In fact, “he hoped that by reviving the memory of leaders from the past … he could teach hero worshippers of the present how to look for the right contemporary leaders” (Harris 126). In line with his interest in autocratic figures, Carlyle wrote a brief historical account of the life of a former dictator of Paraguay, Dr. Francia. In the narration, Carlyle justified the necessity of dictators by asserting the incapability of certain societies to rule themselves - “The Gaucho population, it must be B093509 24 owned, is yet not fit for constitutional liberty. They are rude people; led a drowsy life, of ease and sluttish abundance” (“Dr. Francia” 288). The use of stative verbs to describe the Gauchos implies an unchangeable state of natural inferiority, therefore highlighting a need for dictatorship: the adjective “rude” refers to a lack of “civility” on behalf of this people whereas “drowsy” insinuates their lack of intellect. Thus, Carlyle’s theory of political power relies on the fundamentally racist belief that the “naturally-inferior” should be governed by those who are superior to them: as he wrote in “The Present Time”, Carlyle was convinced that “the few Wise will have, by one method or another, to take command of the innumerable Foolish” (34). More precisely, Carlyle understood the unsuitability of some for self- government as a consequence of their “laziness”, The people of that profuse climate live in a careless abundance, troubling themselves about few things…. Riding through the town of Santa Fe, with Parish Robertson, at three in the afternoon, you will find the entire population just risen from its siesta; slipshod, half-buttoned; sitting in front verandas open to the street, eating pumpkins with voracity,- sunk to the ears in pumpkins; imbibing the grateful saccharine juices, in a free-and-easy way.” (“Dr. Francia” 287) Carlyle’s insistence on the idea of laziness shows his crude aversion for Gauchos’ idleness - constantly reiterated through expressions such as “profuse climate”, “careless abundance”, “risen from its siesta”, “half-buttoned”, “free-and-easy-way”. Even though these terms all refer to the idea of abundance, these expressions are far from pointing to something positive: “abundance” is here to be understood as synonymous with “overload” and “negligence”. What’s more, Carlyle’s final insistence on “pumpkins” – “eating pumpkins”, “sunk to the ears in pumpkins” – cannot but recall his characterization of West Indian populations in “The Present Time”, B093509 25 —And you Quashee, my pumpkin,— (not a bad fellow either, this poor Quashee, when tolerably guided!)— idle Quashee, I say you must get the Devil sent away from your elbow, my poor dark friend! In this world there will be no existence for you otherwise. No, not as the brother of your folly will I live beside you. Please to withdraw out of my way, if I am not to contradict your folly, and amend it, and put it in the stocks if it will not amend.” (67) The motif of “pumpkins” - which had also been used to described slave populations in his “Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question” - seems to have become, throughout the years, a Carlylean symbol for laziness. It also shows that Carlyle’s vision of democracy has always been at the heart of his stance on slavery: according to him, “lazy” societies – such as slave societies - should be controlled and governed by a strong leader. While highlighting the benefits of dictatorship, Carlyle articulated his rejection of democracy in Latter-Day Pamphlets through a critique of American politics. It is, among others, the rise of the U.S. abolitionist movement that led Carlyle to strongly criticize American politics. In 1850, the Scottish author was well-aware that it was on the question of slavery that the country would face its major crisis as he foresightedly wrote, “America too will have to strain its energies, in quite other fashion than this; to crack its sinews, and all-but break its heart, as the rest of us have had to do, in thousand fold wrestle with the Pythons and mud-demons, before it can become a habitation for the gods” (“Present Time” 20-21). On the eve of the Compromise of 1850, Carlyle knew “as many British commentators that America would be unable to avoid civil war” (Kinser, Shaping 17). As Kinser remarks, “[i]t did not take much of a prophet to recognize trouble on the American horizon, and Carlyle was well informed about both domestic and international events” (Shaping 17). On the one hand, Carlyle was able to recognize the qualities of the American nation - “America is a great, and B093509 26 in many respects a blessed and hopeful phenomenon. Sure enough, these hardy millions of Anglo-Saxon men prove themselves worthy of their genealogy; … doing, in their day and generation, a creditable and cheering feat under the sun” (“Present Time” 19). Yet he deemed it unacceptable that Britain would want to follow the American example, for “as to a Model Republic, or a model anything, the wise among themselves know too well that there is nothing to be said” (“Present Time” 19). In his Pamphlets, Carlyle thus oscillated between asserting that he “can find no model in history for a successful future democracy” (Kinser, Shaping 15) and praising the American Republic: “[o]f the various French Republics that have been tried, or that are still on trial,- of these also it is not needful to say any word. But there is one modern instance of Democracy nearly perfect, the Republic of the United States, which has actually subsisted for threescore years or more” (“Present Time” 19). As Kinser suggests, one should distance oneself from Carlyle’s tone in order to grasp the author’s sarcasm: “Carlyle was being sarcastic because he had simply had his fill of reading about how wonderful the Americans were and, more important, that their institutions were an apt model for the future of the British polity” (Kinser, Shaping 15). Carlyle did not criticize the U.S. out of gratuitous antipathy, yet he “refuse[d] to believe that democracy, the foundation of the Americans’ secular ideology, [could] be inculcated into the British psyche on similar terms” (Shaping 16). Kinser convincingly concludes that “Carlyle’s wish to hear no more about the superiorities of American governance did not mean he had grown to hate the Americans” (Shaping 15); hence, his correspondence with the major representative of American nineteenth century thinking - Ralph Waldo Emerson – was never a series of written indictments but epitomized a real, and honest transatlantic friendship. II - Emerson’s Moral Elitism B093509 27 If Carlyle’s rejection of democracy was based on the belief that society should be governed by an elite, “for Emerson it was … ‘the will of the wise man,’ who of course was wise precisely in that he understood the higher sources of wisdom and power” (Harris 151). As numerous critics pointed out, there was indeed a certain elitism, “a certain authoritarian tendency” (Harris 151) in Emerson’s thinking. However, whereas Carlylean elitism derived from an arbitrary natural hierarchy, Emerson’s “chain of beings” was determined by virtue and morality. The Transcendentalist thinker believed in what one could call “moral authority”, or the right of the moral leader to seize power if things had become immoral. In his 1841 essay on “Self-Reliance”, Emerson had expressed an almost Carlylean distrust for the masses: for him, society was “a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs” (55). According to Emerson, virtue was a rare quality among the masses and that is the reason why the “world has been instructed by its kings, who have so magnetized the eyes of nations” (“Self-Reliance” 61). Most virtuous among men, kings are depicted as those who “pay for benefits not with money but with honor, and represent the law in his person, was the hieroglyphic by which they obscurely signified their consciousness of their own right and comeliness, the right of every man” (“Self-Reliance”, Emerson 62). The masses, conceived as a “mob”, were perceived as derogatory and noxious to the individual by Emerson, who suggested that man needs to be alone - “now we are a mob. … We must go alone. I like the silent church before the service begins, better than any preaching” (“Self-Reliance”, Emerson 65). In “Webster” (1831), a poem dedicated to Massachusetts’ senator Daniel Webster, Emerson therefore described a prototype of moral leadership, LET Webster’s lofty face B093509 28 Ever on thousands shine, A beacon set that Freedom’s race Might gather omens from that radiant sign. Written in alternate rhymes abab, these four lines form Daniel Webster’s eulogy. The idea of light – more particularly, the words “shine”, “beacon” and “radiant” – highlight Webster’s morality and his subsequent closeness to the divine. Webster’s virtue is explicitly asserted through the adjective “lofty”, used to describe his “face”, and capitalized words such as “Freedom” insist on Webster’s conformity to a higher, moral law. However, when Daniel Webster declared his support for the Compromise of 1850, he irremediably let Emerson down, who was instantly repelled by the passing of the bill. As Daniel Robert Koch remarks, “Emerson was deeply disturbed by the Compromise of 1850 and the Fugitive Slave Law, which was included to placate Southerners in exchange for the entry of California into the Union as a Free State” (183). In July 1851, Emerson wrote to Carlyle, saying that “the abomination of our Fugitive Slave-Bill drove me to some writing and speech-making, without hope of effect, but to clear my own skirts” (Correspondence 470). As indicated by the verb “drove”, Emerson’s repulsion at the pro-slavery turn of Massachusetts’ politics was now forcing him to enter once again the public scene of abolitionist politics. In his “Address to the Citizens of Concord”, held on May 3, 1851, Emerson therefore urged his audience to adopt a similar attitude to his, hence to publicly reject the recent ruling - “The last year has forced us all into politics” (Emerson, “Concord” 135). Whereas he had been portrayed by Emerson as an example of moral leadership in 1831, Daniel Webster permanently disappointed him in in the 1850s. Emerson thus went back on his eulogy and wrote the couplet “1854”, in which he highlighted Webster’s now corrupted soul, B093509 29 WHY did all manly gifts in Webster fail? He wrote on Nature’s grandest brow, For Sale. In 1851, in his “Address to the Citizens of Concord”, Emerson had already “passionately denounce[d] Daniel Webster” (Rowe 29), about whom he had written that a “man of greedy and unscrupulous selfishness may maintain morals when they are in fashion: but he will not stick” (Emerson, “Concord” 137). Denouncing the immoral disposition of the Senator, Emerson stated that “[c]’est donc par une inclination naturelle à la servilité que Webster serait devenu l’esclave des sudistes, se ravalant de lui-même au rang de bête de somme”1 (Constantinesco, “Amérique Fugitive” 7). Throughout his speech, Emerson indeed insisted on his revulsion at Webster’s political turnaround, opening his address with an emphasis on the physiological effects engendered by the Compromise: “I have a new experience. I wake in the morning with a painful sensation, which I carry about all day” (“Concord” 135). The word “experience”, compounded by the noun “sensation”, indeed emphasizes the physical dimension of Emerson’s reaction: the bill went against his own nature, hurting his body and soul. As Constantinesco importantly remarked, “la dénonciation de la bestialité de Webster et des sudistes permet d’abord à Emerson de leur opposer la profonde humanité de la loi de la nature, cet édit suprême … en vertu duquel toute loi immorale doit nécessairement être déclarée nulle et non avenue”2 (“Amérique Fugitive” 8-9). The reference to the natural cycle of life “I wake the morning” recalls the endless procession of days and nights, while the idea 1 “It is because of a natural inclination to subservience that Webster became a slave to the Southern states, for he had lowered himself to the role of beast of burden” 2 “Emerson’s indictment of both Webster and the Southern States’ brutality allows him, more importantly, to contrast their barbarity with the profound humanity of the law of nature - this divine edict according to which all immoral rulings must be opposed” B093509 30 of regeneration - referred to through the adjective “new” – stands for the constant renewal of nature: the immorality of the bill goes against the natural morality of human nature, thus bringing “a painful sensation”. These sensations are caused by a certain “infamy in the air” - air which has been polluted by “the odious remembrance of that ignominy which has fallen on Massachusetts, which robs the landscape of beauty, and takes the sunshine out every hour” (Emerson, “Concord” 135). Webster’s decision to adopt the Fugitive Slave Law brought the evils of slavery to the northern part of the country: metaphorically comparing slavery to moral pollution, Emerson described how the Compromise had managed to darken northern landscapes, “The sun paints: presently we shall organize the echo, as now we do the shadow” (“Concord” 149). Using the classic association of “light” and “morality”, Emerson deplored the “shadow” in which the North of the United States has been plunged. As Thomas Constantinesco pinpoints, “[t]el un éclair déchirant le ciel, la loi sur les esclaves fugitifs, ou plutôt la crise politique et morale dont elle est le signe, fait éclater la vérité au grand jour”3 (“Amérique Fugitive” 5). Indeed, what emerges most clearly from Emerson’s tone is his disappointment when faced with “the slightness and unreliableness of our social fabric”, his coming to terms with “what stuff reputations are made of; what straws we dignify by office and title …. It showed the shallowness of leaders; the divergence of parties from their alleged grounds; showed that men would not stick to what they have said” (“Concord” 137). Emerson was inhabited by a strong sense of disillusionment with regards to American politics : in fact, he now could clearly see “l’inanité d’une politique du compromis qui, dès l’origine et pendant la première moitié du XIXe siècle, aura chercher à préserver l’Union au prix de l’asservissement des noirs et de l’avilissement des populations blanches, à la fois 3 “As a flash of lightning that shine through the sky, the Fugitive Slave Law – and the political and moral crisis which it embodied – made the truth shine through” B093509 31 complices et coupables”4 (Constantinesco, “Amérique Fugitive” 5). Emerson was shocked by the realization that his was an age of “metaphysical debility” (Emerson, “Concord” 137). Denouncing moral corruption, he attacked how the evils of slavery had spread throughout the country: “What is the use of admirable law-forms and political forms, if a hurricane of party feeling and a combination of monied interests can beat them to the ground?” (Emerson, “Concord” 137). As Daniel Robert Koch remarks, “Emerson believed that support for the law was the result of a materialist spirit, which united southern slaveholders and corrupted ‘officials’ who attempted to persuade northern communities through ‘the mischievous whisper ‘’Tariff and southern market, if you will be quiet”’ (179). As he had written in his address on the “Emancipation of the British West Indies”, Emerson again denounced the monetary benefits of slavery, which he recognized as the source of politicians’ corruption of soul”: “Relying on a transcendentalist convention regarding excess (luxus) and dependency as unnatural” (Rowe 26), Emerson attacked politicians’ thirst for profit. A series of rhetorical questions stand for Emerson’s disappointment: “What kind of legislation is this? What kind of Constitution which covers it?” (Emerson, “Concord” 142), “Great is the mischief of a legal crime” (Emerson, “Concord” 143). As previously demonstrated, Emerson never rejected capitalistic economy; yet he believed that laws should follow a higher law, not the one of Mammon. In fact, “[d]espite his condemnation of commercial interests in the debate over slavery, … and his fiery condemnation of political and legal processes in America, Emerson reverts to the same solutions to slavery he had proposed in 1844: economic and legal” (Rowe 31). 4 “the futility of political compromise which, from its very start and throughout the first half of the nineteenth century, safeguarded the Union while causing the enslavement of African- Americans and the debasement of white Americans, both accomplices and guilty” B093509 32 According to Emerson, an immoral law should not be obeyed - “An immoral law makes it a man’s duty to break it, at every hazard” (Emerson, “Concord” 138) – for the only law that should is the Higher law. Showcasing the corruptness of Webster’s ruling, Emerson thus stated that it would be immoral to conform to it - “You have a law which no man can obey, or abet the obeying, without loss of self-respect and forfeiture of the name of a gentleman” ( “Concord” 144). In his rejection an unlawful government, Emerson went back to the principles of “Self-Reliance”, deeming that in the absence of a moral government, one should follow one’s own inner morality. As he wrote in 1841, Emerson believed that “[t]he relations of the soul to the divine spirit are so pure, that it is profane to seek to interpose helps” (“Self-Reliance” 62). In fact, at the heart of Transcendentalist philosophy stood the belief that each individual possesses an inner morality and a direct connection to the divine: “Whenever a mind is simple, and receives a divine wisdom, old things pass away, – means, teachers, texts, temples fall; it lives now, and absorbs past and future into the present hour” (Emerson, “Self-Reliance” 63). The strength of Emerson’s appeal thus lies in its peremptory injunction to react against political corruption and immoral rulings by relying on individual morality: “Condemning leaders like Webster for their lack of character and the legal and political processes for their ‘metaphysical debility,’ Emerson appeals for the renewal of virtue in civil disobedience” (Rowe 30). As Rowe remarks, it is important to emphasize that Emerson’s invitation to rebel against government’s decisions never encompassed any armed reaction: - “Yet the civil disobedience that Emerson counsels does not lead relentlessly either to a call to arms or comparable revolutionary practice” (31). His appeal to civil disobedience was more symbolic than it was factual, “Emerson enjoint donc son auditoire de reconstituer une communauté alternative, une nation parallèle et véritablement naturelle cette fois” 5 5 “Emerson invites his audience to become part of an alternative community, a parallel nation obeying, for real this time, natural law” B093509 33 (Constantinesco, “Amérique Fugitive” 10). His invitation, however theoretical, was clear: “You know that the Act of Congress of September 18, 1850, is a law which every one of you will break on the earliest occasion” (Emerson, “Concord” 141). Thus, Emerson did not call to armed “action” yet he plead for intellectual “re-action”. In order to better understand Emerson’s sudden entrance into the world of engaged intellectualism, it would be useful to adopt a transatlantic perspective on the thinker’s European travels. In fact, when Emerson delivered his “Address to the Citizens of Concord” in 1851, he had just come back from his second European tour (1847-1848). As Koch remarks, Emerson had been affected by the European revolutions he witnessed while travelling and, even though he “initially found the European revolutions, especially the revolution in France, to have been tragicomic failures”, Emerson “drew parallels … between American supporters of slavery and European reactionaries and rulers of the post-1848 order in Europe” (182). Koch adds that “[i]nspired by his participation in what he understood to be a revolution against the moral abomination of slavery, he came to see the idealism of the French revolutionaries of 1848 as the spirit that connected 1848 and the American Civil War within an epic struggle for human dignity and freedom” (182-183). Affected by European revolution and American political changes, Emerson thus went from a promotion “of panreligious tolerance and coexistence [to] an apparent embrace of secular nationalism” (Ziser 336): as Koch concluded, “we can understand Emerson’s lionization of European revolutionary leaders during the first half of the 1850s as related to his vision of a sublime struggle for freedom against a materialist fatalism, which he saw affecting both Americans and Europeans” (186). Deeply disappointed by the Compromise of 1850, Emerson thus denounced the government’s indulgence towards the Slave states and attacked Daniel Webster’s moral corruption. Nevertheless, however critique Emerson’s address was, the latter’s rejection of B093509 34 the government never fell into a rejection of America: Emerson’s patriotism resisted his disappointment and was strengthened by it. It is indeed in an effort to build a nation of moral, uncorrupted men that Emerson urged his audience to resist – Emerson’s civil disobedience consisted in an effort to recreate that moral elite by which the United States of America should be ruled. In the same way as Carlyle argued for a return to past social organizations and feudal relations, Emerson argued for a return to the Founding Fathers and the great Puritan principles of his country. For Emerson, the unmatchable superiority of the Higher Law shadowed any human government and legitimated resistance against a potentially unlawful government – justifying actions such as John Brown’s armed rebellion against pro- slavery government. B093509 35 Chapter Three On War: Transatlantic Tensions and Amicable Resolutions During the American Civil War, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thomas Carlyle’s relationship strongly deteriorated because of their dissentions concerning the conflict. Between 1861 and 1865, the two intellectuals in fact only exchanged six letters – a sparsity that accounts for a considerable crisis in their relationship. Paralyzed by their disagreements, Emerson and Carlyle’s communication progressively shifted from the private sphere to the public one, turning into an exchange of lectures and articles. It is Thomas Carlyle who opened fire first: his “Ilias (Americana) in Nuce”, published by Macmillan’s Magazine in 1863, outraged both British and American abolitionists. Indeed “Carlyle’s response to the American Civil War was characteristic of a man who courted controversy and reveled in paradox” (Sorensen, “Frederick” 91). Reluctant to publicly criticize his friend, Emerson indirectly retorted to Carlyle’s satire through a series critical lectures. In his 1863 address “Fortune of the Republic”, Emerson indicted England’s non-supportive attitude towards the Union and deplored Carlyle’s disinterest in the North’s moral cause. It is therefore on the question of slavery that the two authors collided: the American Civil War, and the abolition of slavery, became the point of convergence of the authors’ philosophical differences. I – Praising Action: Where Does the Scholar Stand? Despite being a man of letters, Emerson legitimized war defining it as a necessary step into action in order to abolish the Institution of Slavery. As he stated his in “Address to the Citizens of Concord” in 1851, Emerson did not disapprove of forms of violent action when employed in extreme circumstances, echoing his friend Henry David Thoreau’s 1849 B093509 36 “Civil Disobedience”. In a eulogy delivered in 1859 in honor of John Brown, Emerson therefore praised the latter’s armed resistance because justified by an unlawful state of things. As Michael Ziser wrote in “Emersonian Terrorism”, Emerson did authorize a “suspension of normative ethics and law to allow for genuinely revolutionary change” (352). More particularly, Emerson used the heroic figure of John Brown as counter-argument to the general accusation that abolitionists were mere idealists. Brown was the proof that being an idealist was not a sign of passivity, for “John Brown … believed in his ideas to that extent that he existed to put them all into action” (“John Brown” 189). Emerson admired how, in the person of John Brown, words were synonymous with action. He even elevated Brown to the role of representative of the Nation, describing him as a national hero - “There is a Unionist …. He believes in the Union of the States, and he conceives that the only obstruction to the Union is Slavery, and for that reason, as a patriot, he works for its abolition” (Emerson, “John Brown” 188). Surprisingly enough, even though Brown had led a terrorist rebellion against the government in Harpers Ferry, Emerson portrayed him as a model of morality - “he is so transparent that all men see him through. He is a man to make friends wherever on earth courage and integrity are esteemed, the rarest of heroes, a pure idealist, with no by-ends of his own” (“John Brown” 188). In Emerson’s eyes, the U.S. government had lost all moral authority with its 1850 “Fugitive Slave Act”: therefore, rebelling against it was now not only justified, it was to be praised. Emerson praised John Brown’s patriotism as well as his attempt to reassert the foundational Puritan values of American democracy: as Ziser pointed out, “[b]oth an anachronistic throwback to primitive and absolutist Calvinism and a racial progressive who helped precipitate the war that modernized and centralized the United States, Brown embraced violence and martyrdom as means of opposing first proslavery settlers” (345). B093509 37 In the figure of John Brown, Emerson thus found the concretization of words into action, which had haunted him for so long. Initially reluctant to step out of the world of pure abstractions, Emerson had long hesitated before entering the political sphere for he deemed that the solitary life of an intellectual was incompatible with that of politics. Even after publicly joining the abolitionist cause in 1844, Emerson found it difficult to fully perceive himself as an “engaged intellectual”: his support for the abolitionist cause threw him into doubt, caught between moral abstractions and pragmatic concerns. Indeed, in juxtaposition to his praise of abolitionist action, Emerson also had to explain his role as an abolitionist scholar: where did he stand in the realm of political rebellion? Such a question agitated many of Emerson’s lectures, including his 1862 “Emancipation Proclamation” address, in which he defines the role of politicians in comparison to that of orators. Emphasizing Lincoln’s oratorical qualities, Emerson attempted to showcase that politicians and intellectuals were indeed both moved by idealism and morality. Emerson did not try to hoist himself to the role of “man of action” yet he justified his own place in politics by demonstrating how “men of action” were also “men of words”. Indeed, Emerson’s praise of Lincoln is interestingly pervaded with references to speech, “so fair a mind that none ever listened so patiently to such extreme varieties of opinion …,— the firm tone in which he announces it, without inflation or surplusage” (“Proclamation” 2). Comparing Lincoln to an orator, Emerson depicts the Emancipation Proclamation as a speech’s climax: It is as when an orator, having ended the compliments and pleasantries with which he conciliated attention, and having run over the superficial fitness and commodities of the measure he urges, suddenly, lending himself to some happy inspiration, announces with vibrating voice the grand human principles involved;—the bravos and wits who greeted him loudly thus far are surprised and overawed. (“Proclamation” 1) B093509 38 In Emerson’s eyes, the emancipation of slaves represented the successful communion of the world of morality and that of politics: Emerson thus celebrated Lincoln’s Proclamation for it endowed the conflict with a moral end, transforming the war into a crusade towards “liberty” (Emerson, “Proclamation” 1). According to his belief in the general progress of humanity, Emerson viewed the war as one of history’s major “moments of expansion” (“Proclamation” 1). As Gougeon noted after analyzing Emerson’s reaction to the news of emancipation, “[f]or Emerson, the true victory here is for principle, no matter what the actual effects are” (Virtue’s Hero 288). Emerson “welcomed” the victory of emancipation “as an effort to fulfill America’s original promise of equality and justice and a necessary clarification of the purpose of the war” (Gougeon, “Emerson, Carlyle” 411). Yet the Proclamation did not only fulfill America’s moral destiny; it also crossed the North-American borders, uniting abolitionists from all over the world over morality’s dictates. For Emerson, the abolition of slavery was a universal ideal in which all intellectuals should believe: The truly cultivated. They exist in England, as in France, in Italy, in Germany, in America. The inspirations of God, like birds, never stop at frontiers or languages, but come to every nation. This class like Christians, or poets, or chemists, exist across all possible nationalities, strangers to their own people, - brothers to you.” (Emerson, The Later Lectures 333) When Emerson pronounced these words in 1863, he “was becoming increasingly concerned about relations with Great Britain” (Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero 302). Personally “aware that the British lacked sympathy or understanding for the Union cause almost from the war’s beginning” (Gougeon, “Emerson, Carlyle” 410), Emerson thus tried to display the war’s new abolitionist turn overseas. By emphasizing the universality of the abolitionist sentiment, he B093509 39 justified the Northern cause in the eyes of rest of the word. As he had cleverly phrased it in his “Emancipation Proclamation” address, Emerson countered all opponents by asserting that siding with the abolitionist cause equaled siding with reason, for: “every spark of intellect, every virtuous feeling, every religious heart, every man of honor, every poet, every philosopher, the generosity of the cities, the health of the country, the strong arms of the mechanic, the endurance of farmers, the passionate conscience of women, the sympathy of distant nations,— all rally to its support.” (3) II- British Positions and Transatlantic Tensions The universal morality of the abolitionist cause, the idealism and benevolence which Emerson found so noble, were not always unanimously received in Europe, and in Britain more particularly. Despite Emerson’s efforts to state that abolitionism was a universal principle, British reactions to the Civil War – both on behalf of British government and British people – were not all in favor of the North. In fact, even though the government had asserted its neutrality in 1861, “[t]he upper and middle classes, the conservatives, most High Anglicans, and The Times mostly sympathized with the South and sometimes suggested British intervention for the South” (95), as noted by Peter T. Park. Carlyle was among those who opposed the Northern cause from the start, deeming that slavery was not worth the deaths of thousands of white soldiers: Carlyle in fact did not understand why the North would fight the “South to the death just to free the slaves” (Kinser, Shaping 36). He thus wished that the United States would avoid any bloody conflict, and as he wrote to his friend Charles Butler: “Wise men seem to be of the opinion that you will not go to cutting of throats, but will settle pacifically (being a prudent People)” (Collected Letters 97-98). Through the years, however, Anglo-American relations kept deteriorating over diplomatic incidents; “Although B093509 40 by 1863 there was little likelihood that either France or England would intervene in the war on behalf of the Confederacy, there was a possibility that the Union might drift into a war with England over the issue of British shipbuilding for the Confederate navy” (Gougeon Virtue’s Hero 302). In 1861, two Confederate diplomats who were on the British mail ship Trent were illegally captured by the Union, who accused them of violating international laws of neutrality in high seas. Although soldiers were eventually freed, this diplomatic incident increased tensions between Britain and the North and “Great Britain nearly declared war on the United States as a result of the Trent affair” (Park 96). It is true that British sympathy for Southern troops was also motivated by the already-existing commercial relations between the two countries: in fact, “apart from resenting U.S. commercial competition, the British needed Southern cotton and believed in a Southern victory until 1863” (Park 95). However, British antipathy towards the North was not only caused by their financial agreements with the South; throughout the years, British people had become “cynical about Northern abolitionism, which they regarded as a hypocritical cloak for sordid commercial and political ambitions” (Park 95). In fact, British antipathy towards the Union began in the early years of the American conflict, when anti-slavery feeling inclined English observers to expect, quite falsely, a federal war for emancipation. When this anti-slavery crusade failed to materialize, when the cotton famine created hardship in Lancashire, and when federal forces proved inept in the field, Englishmen of a broad range of political opinion and social background came to see no point or purpose in the northern campaign. (Lorimer 420) As Douglas A. Lorimer concluded, “[t]his critical attitude toward the north turned sympathies more favourably toward the south” (406): hence, British abolitionists chose not to side with the Union and believed that, once independent, the South would free its slaves. B093509 41 From the very beginning, Carlyle saw the Civil War as “a nightmarish conflict over phantoms and illusions” (105): it was, in his eyes, “a tragically pointless conflict” (Park 93). However, as Kinser rightfully remarks, “Carlyle’s insistence that the American Civil War was an absurd tragedy about nothing did not mean he was uninterested or uncaring” (Shaping 37). As he wrote to his friend Charles Butler in 1863, “We are all much interested in your American excitements” (Collected Letters 97-98). Carlyle’s satirical piece “Ilias (Americana) in Nuce” - “the American Iliad in a Nutshell” – was Carlyle’s “only published comment on the war” (50), as Gerald M. Straka pinpointed in his article. With its publication in the Macmillan’s Magazine in 1863, the piece caused great scandal and even its editors were for a moment disconcerted by it. As George Worth recounts in his article, “[f]ollowing the publication … Alexander Macmillan, the self-described foe of slavery and friend of the Union, had some explaining to do” (195). PETER of the North (to PAUL of the South): “Paul, you unaccountable scoundrel, I find you hire your servants for life, not by the moth or the year, as I do! You go straight to hell, you - !” PAUL: “Good words, Peter. The risk is my own; I am willing to take the risk. Hire your servants by the month or day, and get straight to Heaven; leave me to my own method.” PETER: “No, I won’t, I will beat your brains out first.” (And is trying dreadfully ever since, but cannot yet manage it.) (Carlyle, “Ilias”) Consisting of only three lines, “Ilias in Nuce” is a short dialogue between two fictional characters – “Peter of the North” and “Paul of the South”. The generalizing character of their B093509 42 names, their biblical origins and the absence of last name, indicates to the reader that the scope of Carlyle’s satire is broad. The accumulation of exclamatory sentences – “You unaccountable soundrel, I find you hire servants for life, not by the month or year as I do!” “You are going straight to Hell, you –!”, “Good words, Peter!” – takes away all possible credibility from the dialogue and its characters. The tools of satire are all at use: short sentences, exaggerated violence – “I will beat your brains out first” – and syllogistic nonsense all partake to the satirical effect of the piece. Eventually, the ludicrousness of the dialogue comes from the final italics - “And is trying dreadfully ever since, but cannot yet manage it” - which satirize “Peter” through an ironic imitation of stage directions. Complaining that Paul hires “servants for life, not by the month or year”, Peter encapsulates the North’s hypocrisy, which Carlyle is criticizing: his grotesque violence is indeed used to debunk Northerners’ hypocritical morality. As Len Gougeon pointed out, Carlyle “had been intensely critical of democratic thought as early as the 1840s” (“Emerson, Carlyle” 407) - hence his natural antipathy for Northern abolitionist discourses. Emerson’s ideals of morality and progress were hypocritical nonsense to the ears of Carlyle, who “attacked democracy as an impossible ideology because it failed to recognize that some men are born to govern and others are born to serve” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle 408). According to the thinker, “strong leadership was the only practical answer to the organization of labor question” (Straka 47): in the same way as he had criticized the emancipation of West Indian slaves, Carlyle seemingly condemned the abolition of slavery in America. Because of “Ilias in Nuce”, Carlyle “was immediately branded a de facto supporter of the South” (Kinser, Shaping 36), which also grew to admire him. As Straka remarks, “Carlyle’s influence on the growth of Southern nationalism is obvious” (52): the thinker’s writings became very popular in the American South, inspiring through their blatant racism. Among those writers, George Fitzhugh, “Virginian lawyer, sociologist, and pro-slavery theorist George Fitzhugh (1806-1881) had B093509 43 long regarded himself as a Carlylean disciple” (Sorensen, “Frederick” 104). Fitzhugh indeed borrowed the title of his second book - Cannibals All! or Slaves Without Masters (1857) – from the latter’s Past and Present (Sorensen, “Frederick” 104). In his “Introduction” to Cannibals All, Fitzhugh overtly declared his admiration for Carlyle’s ideas: “At the very time we were writing our pamphlet entitled Slavery Justified, in which we took ground that Free Society had failed, Mr. Carlyle began to write his Latter-Day Pamphlets, whose very title is the assertion of the failure of Free Society” (12). More precisely, Fitzhugh applauded Carlyle’s denunciation of “the physical impoverishment of the English working classes” (Sorensen, “Frederick” 104) - “Mr. Carlyle … vindicate[s] Slavery by showing that each of its apparent relaxations in England has injured the laboring class” (Fitzhugh 12). Like Carlyle, Fitzhugh was strongly opposed to laissez-faire economics, and perceived slavery as the only way of maintaining a balance between “labor” and “capital”, “It is impossible to place labor and capital in harmonious and friendly relations, except by the means of slavery, which identifies their interests” (Fitzhugh 31). However, one must be careful about comparing Fitzhugh and Carlyle for, as Sorensen rightfully pinpoints, Fitzhugh’s “ideal of society was aristocratic in a far more traditional way than Carlyle approved” (“Frederick” 105). However influential Carlyle had been in the South, Straka thus rightfully asks: “One last question poses itself: were the Southerners right in interpreting Carlyle as they did? He never published a direct opinion on the South. He had condemned West Indian policy, but he did not support outright the South’s slavery system” (54). Although Southerners joyfully used Carlyle as a form of propaganda for pro-slavery arguments, Kinser convincingly observes that in “in the ‘Ilias’, Carlyle was in fact simply professing his long-held position against democracy and democratic reform in Britain” (Shaping 36). “But to which camp did Carlyle belong? Was he a progressive or a reactionary, a leftist or a rightist, a crypto-communist or a proto-fascist?” (111), asks Marc Harris. Carlyle’s ideas had been manipulated by his B093509 44 contemporaries, and continued to be misinterpreted until the twentieth century when, in “the thirties and forties, for example, a few German professors sought to enshrine him as precursor of National Socialism” (Harris 111). III/ American Reactions and Amicable Resolution Whereas “Ilias” was generally welcomed in the South as pro-slavery propaganda, the piece outraged most Northerners: as Gougeon remarks, “[w]hile to Carlyle the snippet may have appeared but a mild rebuke to both parties, for many Northern readers it was an unpardonable affront” (“Emerson, Carlyle” 412). Indeed, even though Emerson “had been aware of Carlyle’s views on the subject of slavery for some time, he was apparently stung by the Macmillan’s piece” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 414). Whereas until 1863 Carlyle and Emerson had always managed to accept their political differences, “Ilias in Nuce” put their relation at risk. Emerson was deeply disappointed by his friend, for he was convinced that “scholars such as Carlyle should be providing moral leadership and enlightenment for the masses” (Gougeon Virtue’s Hero 304). Thus, Emerson felt appalled by the satire and was encouraged, by many in his surroundings, to retort to Carlyle by way of a public letter. One can only imagine the amount of public pressure to which Emerson was subjected; his friendship with Carlyle was well-known by the general public. When Emerson finally “chose the lecture platform to unleash a bitter attack on the British generally, and Carlyle in particular” (413), “Emerson’s audiences must have been pleased that America’s honor, and the North’s moral stand, had been vindicated by such a prestigious spokesperson, the man who had recommended Carlyle to America” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 420). It is in “Fortune of the Republic”, an address delivered in 1863, that Emerson finally confronted his friend Thomas Carlyle. In his speech, Emerson mirrored the frustrations of his times: while Britain had developed an antipathy towards the North, the Union had been strongly B093509 45 disappointed by the British government and British intellectuals. “Fortune of the Republic” is indeed pervaded with a certain anger towards Britain, of which Emerson repeatedly condemns the lack of maturity: “Now, English nationality is babyish”, “The English have a certain childishness”, “They are insular, and narrow”, “they retain their Scandinavian strength and skill; but their morals do not reach beyond their frontier” (Emerson “Fortune” 323). In fact, while the “Queen’s Neutrality Proclamation of 13 May 1861 seemed reasonable enough to the British, it was considered an act of outright perfidy by many Northerners” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 406). Emerson’s indictment against Britain was therefore direct and straightforward: it is time that you should hear the truth,- that you have failed in one of the great hours that put nations to test. When the occasion of magnamity arrived, you had none: you forgot your loud professions, you rubbed your hands with indecent joy, and saw only in our extreme danger the chance of humbling a rival and getting away his commerce.” (Emerson The Later Lectures 327) If Britain is depicted as childish, America is presented as a wiser entity which managed to expel those European vices - “America was opened after the feudal mischief was spent, and so the people made a good start. We began well. No inquisition here; no kings, no nobles, no dominant church” (Emerson The Later Lectures 326). Emerson’s disappointment and anger are blatantly expressed - “We who saw you in a halo of honor which our affection made, now we must measure your means; your true dimensions” (The Later Lectures 327). Yet the author also tempers his accusations with a final captatio benenvolentiae, which spares some from his hard critique: “In speaking of England, I lay out of question the truly cultivated class. They exist in England, as in France, in Italy, in Germany, and in America” (The Later Lectures 333). Emerson also extends his critique to his friend Carlyle, expressing his B093509 46 disappointment about his friends’ political attitude - “Even Carlyle, her ablest living writer, a man who has earned his position by the sharpest insights, is politically a fatalist” (The Later Lectures 323). Accordingly with what he said in his “Emancipation Proclamation” address, the role of intellectuals in society should not be underestimated and it is “Britain’s artists and intellectuals who must bear the brunt of the criticism for this failing” (Gougeon, Virtue’s Hero 304). Reiterating the universalism of abolitionist ideals - “[t]he inspirations of God, like birds, never stop at frontiers or languages, but come to every nation” (The Later Lectures 333) – Emerson was therefore disappointed by his friend’s lack of sympathy for the Union and her moral cause. Deeming that trade was the main reason of Britain’s pro-southern convictions, Emerson condemned trade with the same verve with which Carlyle condemned democracy; “Never a lofty sentiment, never a duty of civilization, never a generosity, a moral self-restraint is suffered in the way of commercial advantage” (The Later Lectures 323). The ternary insistence on the adverb “never” emphasizes America’s morality while it denounces British vicious attachment to trade. “Fortune of the Republic” thus ends on a patriotic celebration of American democracy: while recollecting the memory of the American Revolution, Emerson now announces the Union’s moral destiny - “But the moment one enemy appeared, we woke out of sleep. No country! We had nothing else but a country. Business was thrust aside. Every house hung out the flag. Every street was full of patriotic songs. Almost every able-bodied man put on a uniform.” (The Later Lectures 330). Based once again on a ternary repetition - “every house” “every street” and “every man”- this sentence sounds like the patriotic prayer of American democracy. While defending his country with vigor and passion from foreign attacks such as Carlyle’s “Ilias”, Emerson’s tone still leaves room for hope of a British redemption. As Len Gougeon explained, the “failure of intellectuals in England was particularly disturbing to Emerson because, unlike the South, … England seemed to possess all the advantages of a developed and advanced culture” (Virtue’s B093509 47 Hero 310). In a private letter to Carlyle written in September 1864, Emerson thus tried “to correct erroneous impressions regarding the war which had unfortunately circulated some time among the British” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 422). In a benevolent tone, Emerson tried to open his friend’s eyes - “A few days here would show you the disgusting composition of the party which within the Union resists the national action” (Correspondence 541). Moreover, Emerson excuses Carlyle for his mistakes by depicting him as the victim of slaveholders’ manipulation - “Slaveholders in London have filled English ears with their wishes & perhaps beliefs” (Correspondence 542). Emerson was not the only person who saw Carlyle as the “duped victim of Southern propaganda” (Kinser, Shaping 37). Moncure Daniel Conway, who had been recommended by Emerson, visited Carlyle in London during the Civil War: as Kinser remarks, “[h]is estimation of Carlyle is perhaps surprisingly positive” (Shaping 37). Originally from Virginia, Conway had renounced his pulpit like Emerson because of his opposition to slavery. In his reflections, Conway recounted: “There reached him the tidings that in the Southern States of America there was such a fair country. … In his longing that his dream should be no dream, but a reality, he had listened to the most insubstantial representations” (Thomas Carlyle 92-93). In the same way, forgiving his friend’s radical opinions, Emerson set aside political divergences as “he tactfully urges him ‘to forgo petty differences and to support the cause’” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 421- 422). As Sorensen hypothetically suggests, “Emerson may have been accurate in his supposition that Carlyle had failed to play a part in the ‘battle for humanity’ less from racial prejudice than from a furious need to be idiosyncratic” (“Frederick” 110). The American Civil War is considered by critics as the strongest crisis in Emerson and Carlyle’s relationship. During the war, Emerson’s abolitionism became more and more intertwined with a patriotic belief in American democracy: therefore, his friend Carlyle’s satire “Ilias (Americana) in Nuce” both offended his personal, and patriotic convictions. On B093509 48 the other hand, Carlyle had become intolerant of abolitionists’ discourse and his intention was to debunk their pretense morality by exposing their real, violent natures. However concise, Carlyle’s satire is useful for it enables us to understand the political context in which it was written and the national influences after which it was carved. Thus, Emerson and Carlyle’s divergences during the Civil War are not only to be seen as personal misunderstandings, yet help reveal the transatlantic dissentions of their times. In fact, “[t]ensions between the writers of Old England and New became acute as a result of the Civil War, and in many respects, Carlyle and Emerson’s experience was representative. For some, the animosities generated at the time would endure or the rest of their lives” (Gougeon “Emerson, Carlyle” 423). However, “[a]mid the dissension and conflict of the period, … the friendship of Emerson and Carlyle was both tested and reaffirmed” (Gougeon, “Emerson, Carlyle” 423). B093509 49 Conclusion Despite holding very divergent views on a variety of topics, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Thomas Carlyle managed to remain friends until the latter’s death, in 1881. As shown throughout this dissertation, it is on the question of slavery that their views mostly diverged – putting their relationship to test during the American Civil War. However, their friendship resisted and the two thinkers were able to maintain amicable relations until their last days. Even though Emerson and Carlyle’s friendship might seem absurdly paradoxical at first sight, thorough close-readings of both authors have revealed that, in order to understand their relationship, one should drop any biases about the authors’ reputation. Known as a modern abolitionist thinker, Emerson has indeed obtained, throughout the years, an unparalleled popularity among critics; on the other hand, “Carlyle’s reputation” still has not “recovered from the dubious role he played in distorting the historical significance of the American ‘Iliad’” (Sorensen 110). Thus, although their friendship was “a sort of paradox in nature”, it is important to analyze the similarities that united these thinkers and that enable us today to explain their correspondence. Emerson and Carlyle have often been described as intellectual polar opposites for, even though they were “paradoxically” similar in their approaches, they reached very different in their conclusions. As we have seen in Chapter One, the thinkers held opposite views on the emancipation of British West Indies: whereas Carlyle condemned it as failure in his “Occasional Discourse on the Negro Question”, Emerson rejoiced over the civility of black populations. However, the two interestingly used the same socio-economical approach and defined slavery in relation to labor and economy. Whereas Carlyle plead in favor of a return to feudal modes of social organization, Emerson described the benefits of free labor and advocated in favor of legal freedom. As proven in Chapter Two, even as they criticized governments and democracy, the two authors still held similar Romantic ideals. B093509 50 Carlyle attacked democracy – and the United States – for he believed that a few should govern the masses. He believed that dictators were the heroes that society needed and denounced laissez-faire’s liberalism. On the other hand, Emerson believed that a moral elite should rule the country - whereas Carlyle’s hero consisted in a dictatorial figure, Emerson suggested that it is the wise men who should be in power. Deeply disappointed by the Compromise of 1850, Emerson thus accused the government and denounced its moral corruption while advocating the necessity of a moral elite. As he became more and more invested in politics, Emerson had to modify his way of being a Transcendentalist: faced with war and the evils of slavery, Emerson praised action and rebellion against unlawful governments. As shown in Chapter Three, the clearly different stances adopted by Emerson and Carlyle on the Civil War put their relationship at risk: mirroring the transatlantic tensions of their times, the two wrote less and less letters to each other and debated over abolition through lectures and speeches. As Marc Harris concluded, “History may not forgive Carlyle for the comfort he gave to slave drivers and racists, in his own time and after, but his friend [eventually] did forgive him” (157). B093509 51 Bibliography Almeida, Joselyn M. Reimagining the Transatlantic, 1780-1890. Ashgate, 2011. Bernier, Celeste-Marie, Judie Newman, and Matthew Pethers, eds. The Edinburgh Companion to Nineteenth-Century American Letters and Letter-Writing. Edinburgh University Press, 2016. “Book Reviews: The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson.” The Atlantic Monthly, vol. 51, no.306, 1883, pp 560–564. 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JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/30227577. Sorensen, David. “Carlyle’s Frederick the Great and the ‘Sham Kings’ of the American South.” Carlyle Studies Annual, no. 30, 2014, pp. 91–114. Sorensen, David R., Rodger L. Tarr, and K. J. Fielding, eds. The Carlyles at Home and Abroad: Essays in Honour of Kenneth J. Fielding. Ashgate Pub, 2004. Straka, Gerald M. “The Spirit of Carlyle in the Old South.” The Historian, vol. 20, no. 1, 1957, pp. 39-57. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/24437505. Taylor, Andrew. Henry James and the Father Question. Cambridge University Press, 2002. B093509 59 Thoreau, Henry D. “Resistance to Civil Government (Civil Disobedience).” Thoreau: Political Writings. Edited by Nancy L. Rosenblum, Cambridge University Press, 1996, pp. 1-22. Trela, D. J. “Carlyle’s ‘Shooting Niagara’: The Writing and Revising of an Article and Pamphlet.” Victorian Periodicals Review vol. 25, no. 1, 1992, pp. 30–34. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/20082577. Voelz, Johannes. 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work_aws3vftm2vhgzmsjb6dpyc2shm	----	COMMENTARY Open Access An NIH intramural percubator as a model of academic-industry partnerships: from the beginning of life through the valley of death Michael R Emmert-Buck Abstract In 2009 the NIH publicly announced five strategic goals for the institutes that included the critical need to translate research discoveries into public benefit at an accelerated pace, with a commitment to find novel ways to engage academic investigators in the process. The emphasis on moving scientific advancements from the laboratory to the clinic is an opportune time to discuss how the NIH intramural program in Bethesda, the largest biomedical research center in the world, can participate in this endeavor. Proposed here for consideration is a percolator- incubator program, a ‘percubator’ designed to enable NIH intramural investigators to develop new medical interventions as quickly and efficiently as possible. Introduction I have sometimes thought that, in order to be a good minister, it was necessary to leave the ministry. The profession is antiquated. In an altered age, we wor- ship in the dead forms of our forefathers. - Ralph Waldo Emerson The present proposal is in response to the recent call by the NIH to develop new methods that facilitate the translational research process [1-3]. At the outset, it is imperative to crystallize what is being articulated - not so much a business model or administrative structure but an environment where academic percolation and business incubation occur together, back and forth, short-term and long-term, without artificial walls of separation, and where investigators are enabled to use their knowledge to rapidly move discoveries to the pub- lic. The percubator is a partnership between government and business that incorporates the best of both to responsibly but urgently translate research findings into clinical interventions. Importantly, the program corrects a fundamental engineering problem present in most translational research systems - inefficient bi-directional movement of individual researchers between academic and commercial silos. Discussion Conceptually, the program will consist of the seven ele- ments listed in Figure 1. Some might argue a percubator blurs an important distinction between basic science and private sector activities, but this is not accurate. Academia is a scintillating environment where investiga- tors can ponder and question nature irrespective of an immediate utility - it’s a percolator of ideas, inventions and biological discoveries, a place where one can ‘won- der if and wonder how’. In contrast, companies focus primarily on applied science, taking early concepts from the percolation phase and incubating them through early testing, and then into the competitive world of the marketplace and clinic. The goal of the percubator is not to meld these two modes of thinking together; rather, it is to remove the barrier that separates them and allow free and unfettered movement of investigators between the two, anticipating that it will be synergistic to do so and even necessary in some instances, espe- cially considering the arduous path from laboratory to the public. Development of a drug or device is not a lin- ear and unidirectional movement of a single idea, but is an iterative and parallel movement of many related sub- ideas and sub-projects occurring at various points and in different directions along the translational vector. Repetitive cycles must be performed; from percolator to incubator and then back to the drawing board (percola- tor) again to solve this problem or that. A translational Correspondence: mikeeb@atlanticbb.net Maryland, USA Emmert-Buck Journal of Translational Medicine 2011, 9:54 http://www.translational-medicine.com/content/9/1/54 © 2011 Emmert-Buck; licensee BioMed Central Ltd. This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. mailto:mikeeb@atlanticbb.net http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0 system of ‘academia discovers over here and then bio- tech or pharma commercializes over there’ is not neces- sarily ideal. The percubator will allow these activities to occur in one place, under the long-term and sustained direction of one individual, and will augment the meth- ods that are currently in place. At present, the barrier between percolation and incuba- tion in the NIH intramural program is often close to impermeable. In contrast, universities and many research institutions contain a semi-permeable barrier that allows academic investigators to work in both arenas, albeit in separate locations, with different people and not always with control over scientific direction once the work ‘leaves the lab’. The proposed NIH percubator program pushes this concept one step further by eliminating the barrier altogether, but at the same time respecting and building upon the distinction and uniqueness of acade- mia and the private sector. A likely outcome is that inves- tigators in the program will continue to focus on basic research as a primary function, but when the time is right they will quickly move a discovery to their innovative small company and into early incubation, facilitating testing of more ideas for translational poten- tial than is done now, and then further developing drugs or devices that show promise, all the while overseeing the process with the depth of field that arises naturally from a binocular science-business view. Moreover, participat- ing first-hand will improve investigators’ savvy with respect to the needs of the market, which in turn will aid in assessing the translational potential of ideas that are still in the percolation phase. The NIH intramural program is an ideal test site for such new translational research approaches, percubator or other. Novel systems can be evaluated in an open and transparent manner, with successful methods expanded upon and unsuccessful ones closed out for good cause based on empirical data. Beyond improving the translational efficiency of the intramural program, these controlled experiments may help inform the pro- cess more generally, providing valuable information for other government departments, universities, and non- profit institutions [4].  Intramural investigators will be permitted to license inventions or discoveries made in their NIH laboratories and to form companies for commercialization, while remaining intramural employees  NIH will maintain control and oversight of licensed intellectual property, ensuring that investigators actively translate to the public in a transparent and ethically responsible manner  Investigators will be permitted to utilize their intramural laboratories as locations for their company to enable seamless integration of efforts  The program will not require new funding, as investigators will utilize current laboratory space and resources  NIH will collect royalty payments on all successful projects and these monies will be funneled back into biomedical research; and, investigators will subsidize their own salaries and research support as their companies develop  NIH as an institution will carefully evaluate the effectiveness of the percubator as a general method for supporting research and delivery in government and other settings  The percubator program will provide entrepreneurship training for students, fellows, and investigators, with the goal of producing a cadre of researchers who can translate laboratory and clinical advances into public benefit Figure 1 Elements of an NIH intramural percubator program. Emmert-Buck Journal of Translational Medicine 2011, 9:54 http://www.translational-medicine.com/content/9/1/54 Page 2 of 4 Direction and Drive After a new drug or medical device is percolated to life and progresses through the early incubation phase it must then traverse the so-called valley of death - from promise to real delivery - from drug candidate to effec- tive therapeutic - from prototype to useful product. Most translational efforts die here and there are multi- ple financial, scientific and sociological reasons for this phenomenon [5-8]. To help overcome these difficulties, the new percubator program offers two important ele- ments to facilitate this journey in the intramural pro- gram; direction and drive. Direction Creating effective new therapies, diagnostics or medical devices is a challenging and even audacious objective. With the remarkable complexity of human physiology and related pathogenesis, and the difficulty in rational intervention even when disease etiology is known, it is perhaps not surprising the number of FDA approved agents is dwindling. At the current pace of therapeutic development the on-going transition from ‘screening for drugs’ to ‘science-based design of drugs’ may be a cen- tury-long endeavor not a decades-long one. Mindful of the enormity of the undertaking and the urgent needs of our patients, the requirement for a highly efficient trans- lational research system becomes apparent. Enabled by the percubator program, intramural investigators could provide novel and distinctive trans- lational roadmaps related to their diseases-of-interest, a critical contribution given the value of academic dis- covery in the drug development process [9-11]. As company decision-makers they would be positioned to set direction for moving interventions from laboratory to patient, including original paths-less-traveled based on their expertise and knowledge base. The safe harbor of the percubator will provide both the short-term and long-term resource support to go from start to finish, alone or in a later-stage, de-risked partnership with other companies - down into the valley of death, across the basin, and up the steep grade of the oppo- site hill. For drug development, the percubator could enhance important activities that are currently endan- gered by market forces. As one example, integrated academic-commercial scrutiny of biological mechan- isms of lead compounds could be an important niche for companies in the percubator to fill when the target protein or pathway is the subject of an investigator’s lifelong investigation. As a second example, new medi- cal interventions for rare or neglected diseases would be an excellent outcome of the percubator program. Since the aim is to improve human health and not necessarily to develop a ‘blockbuster drug’, companies in this uniquely blended academic-private sector envir- onment may feel freer to pursue projects with a less attractive market, especially when they dovetail with investigators’ basic science interests. This latter scenario may be an important feature of the percubator, particularly in light of today’s usual translational approach: a) academia hands off an appli- cation to the private sector only if and when it meets a threshold of projected revenues; b) new research find- ings are published in an academic journal with the hope that the information is eventually of use to the private sector and hence the public. Both of these methods are productive and appropriate of course; however, they neglect certain kinds of activity that the percubator could support - for example, a ‘high benefit-low profit’ translational route - development of tangible products that will advance human health but will generate only modest or minimal financial returns. To become a rea- lity these therapies, devices, or diagnostics will require a novel kind of company to produce them, within a fund- ing environment that supports and values such activities. The recent development and increasing popularity of low-profit limited liability companies (L3Cs), business entities with both a social and an economic agenda, represents new thinking along these lines and could serve as a template for commercialization efforts in the percubator [12,13]. And as a practical matter, designat- ing percubator investigators and their companies as ‘contractors and contract companies’ would be a simple route to initiating a pilot program in Bethesda as these mechanisms are routinely employed by NIH in support of many academic and commercial activities. The above being said, a percubator may in fact pro- duce consequences besides the hoped-for improvements in human health - large monetary returns and signifi- cant economic development [14,15]. A central premise is that an integrated science-business environment will be uniquely conducive to innovation, thus there is a real possibility that percubator companies will become highly successful businesses, facilitating growth of the biotech sector and returning significant funds to the public to support further biomedical research. Irrespective of the support mechanism or economic impact, the primary goal of the percubator will be to fully engage investigators in long-term and creative translation of their work to benefit the public: “I think this application has great market potential and is ready for corporate development - that one is best developed through an L3C - those two are going to be important five years from now and need to percolate more - and this one is risky and has a limited market, but I am going to commercialize it anyway, the science is inter- esting and it could help my patients.” Drive Once direction is established the success of a transla- tional endeavor then shifts to the motivation of the Emmert-Buck Journal of Translational Medicine 2011, 9:54 http://www.translational-medicine.com/content/9/1/54 Page 3 of 4 participants involved. Pride of inventorship, a desire to make scientific progress and to be recognized for doing so, and a longing to help patients are strong motivations in themselves, but are not always sufficient for this arduous undertaking. The percubator also harnesses the clarion call to the entrepreneur, one of the most potent forces of the human psyche. Of course, this necessarily brings up thorny issues around financial remuneration and company entanglements that at first glance would seem problematic for such a program in Bethesda, but closer inspection reveals this is not so. The intent of the percubator is for intramural investigators to commercia- lize their own work under the auspices and watchful eye of the NIH as licensor; the proposal does not argue for the types of independent consulting arrangements or other deals with industry that were problematic for the intramural program in the past. The goal is quite simple - integrate wise government investment and scientific expertise with the strong incentives of the free market to urgently deliver the benefits of research to the public. To ignore the value of any motivational element is a dis- service to our future patients and it’s their health and wellbeing that hangs in the balance. Would we design a translational system de novo that prohibits investigators from publishing and receiving academic credit for their work? Of course we would not. Similarly, financial rewards for those who deliver to the public should be in place. However, money is not the sole driving force of the entrepreneur, in fact it’s often of secondary importance and simply a means to an end. To many the ‘fire in the belly’ here is the creation of new commercial life; seeing, believing in, and growing an entity that meets a need, with the freedom to pursue unique directions and the operational control to turn-on-a-dime as conditions warrant in order to make progress. The process is thril- ling, motivating and difficult all in one, much like par- enting a young child and nurturing them along. To disregard or diminish this particularly important ele- ment within a translational system is imprudent - we do so at the peril of the public we seek to help. Undoubtedly, many investigators at NIH will have lit- tle interest in a percubator. They will continue on mak- ing important advances in the laboratory and clinic, wedded to and motivated by their unbridled love for science and desire to make a positive difference, and content to use the conventional translational system. But to other segments of the community the program likely will unleash a torrent of new activities - innovative small corporations; L3Cs; and non-profits - all serving as unique pathways from discovery to patient. Conclusion To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. - Ralph Waldo Emerson In closing, a strategy to enhance translational activities at the NIH is proposed, fully integrating the free think- ing mentality of academia with the productive drive of the private sector to ensure that no stone is left unturned in efforts to help the public. A new percubator program, along with the rich intellectual environment and long-term support of science could make Bethesda ‘the place to be’ for the next generation of translation researchers, helping to ensure that a distinguished past is an equally distinguished future. Competing interests MRE-B is a translational researcher who has participated in many laboratory and clinical research studies, as well as several successful biotechnology company start-ups, both privately and in his current role as a principal investigator in the NIH intramural program. The article was written in his personal capacity and the views do not represent those of the Department of Health and Human Services, National Institutes of Health, or U.S. Public Health Service. The author declares that he has no competing interests. Received: 22 February 2011 Accepted: 8 May 2011 Published: 8 May 2011 References 1. Kaiser J: Rejecting “big science” tag, Collins sets five themes for NIH. Science 2009, 325:927. 2. Dolgin E: Collins sets out his vision for the NIH. Nature 2009, 460:939. 3. Collins FS: Opportunities for research and NIH. Science 2010, 327:36-37. 4. Hughes ME, Peeler J, Hogenesch JB: Network dynamics to evaluate performance of an academic institution. Sci Transl Med 2010, 2:53ps49. 5. DiMasi JA, Hansen RW, Grabowski HG: The price of innovation: New estimates of drug development costs. J Health Econ 2003, 22:151-185. 6. Nusenblatt RB, Marincola FM, Schechter AN: Translational medicine - doing it backwards. J Transl Med 2010, 8:12. 7. Ioannidis JPA: Materializing research promises: opportunities, priorities and conflicts in translational medicine. J Transl Med 2004, 2:5. 8. Pober JS, Neuhauser CS, Pober JM: Obstacles facing translational research in academic medical centers. J Fed Amer Soc Exp Biol 2001, 15:2303-13. 9. Silber MB: Driving drug discovery: The fundamental role of academic labs. Sci Transl Med 2010, 2:30cm16. 10. Scudellari M: The profits of nonprofit. The suprising results when drug development and altruism collide. The Scientist 2010, 25:54. 11. Stevens AJ, Jensen JJ, Wyller K, Kilgore PC, Chatterjee S, Rohrbaugh ML: The Role of Public-Sector Research in the Discovery of Drugs and Vaccines. N Engl J Med 2011, 364:535-41. 12. Meyer A: Nonprofits benefit from for-profit practices. The Chicago Tribune 2009. 13. Nichols M: Some US charities need profits to survive-experts. Reuters 2010. 14. Will GF: Rev the scientific engine. Washington Post 2011. 15. Bluestein A, Barrett A: Why we need more funding for big science. Inc Magazine 2010. doi:10.1186/1479-5876-9-54 Cite this article as: Emmert-Buck: An NIH intramural percubator as a model of academic-industry partnerships: from the beginning of life through the valley of death. Journal of Translational Medicine 2011 9:54. Emmert-Buck Journal of Translational Medicine 2011, 9:54 http://www.translational-medicine.com/content/9/1/54 Page 4 of 4 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19696320?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19693051?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20044560?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20944088?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20944088?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12606142?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12606142?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20132543?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20132543?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/14754464?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/14754464?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20445199?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/20445199?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21306239?dopt=Abstract http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21306239?dopt=Abstract Abstract Introduction Discussion Direction and Drive Direction Drive Conclusion Competing interests References 
work_awuxjqtcyrbknfs6nhwbcf4wum	----	Cities and Sights: Urban History Through Pictures All Rights Reserved © Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 1984 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 20:59 Urban History Review Revue d'histoire urbaine Cities and Sights: Urban History Through Pictures Bruce C. Daniels Volume 13, numéro 2, october 1984 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1018127ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1018127ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine ISSN 0703-0428 (imprimé) 1918-5138 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce compte rendu Daniels, B. C. (1984). Compte rendu de [Cities and Sights: Urban History Through Pictures]. Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 13(2), 170–173. https://doi.org/10.7202/1018127ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1018127ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1018127ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/1984-v13-n2-uhr0791/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ - J o urn i m * ssmmm& i sgg &siis*pg HESSUSS o Q 70 ..:■- S l f f i ^ S l l ^ S ^ i W * » » » * * Bird's-Eye View of Moncton, N.B., 1888. SOURCE: Provincial Archives of New Brunswick. Reproduced from a photocopy in the National Map Collection, Public Archives of Canada. N M C 8873. Vue à vol d'oiseau de Moncton, N.B., 1888. SOURCE: Archives provinciales du Nouveau- Brunswick. Reproduit à partir d'une photocopie de la Collection nationale de cartes et plans, Archives publiques du Canada. N M C 8873. Book Notes/Notes bibliographiques Cities and Sights: Urban History Through Pictures Whoever said "a picture is worth a thousand words" would have heard a chorus of nays at a conference of urban histo- rians. Since the emergence of urban history as a separate and legitimate field, too many photographs in a city biog- raphy placed it outside the realm of serious scholarship and on top of the coffee table in a parvenu living room. Serious scholars used only an occasional photograph to illustrate (literally) the points made by rigorous analyses of hard data on population, housing, business activity, municipal engi- neering, and so forth: a picture was an addendum to several thousand words. Recently, professional historians have begun to reassess the value of visual urban history and its ability to inform scholarship. Pictures are no longer viewed almost solely for their charm: they constitute a body of evidence to sustain as well as to illustrate principles and patterns of development. Canadian historians have been at the forefront of this con- fluence of urban and art history. The Visual History of Canada and The History of Canadian Cities Series, pub- lished by the National Museum, are major examples of the new seriousness being accorded the sights of the past. Just as community studies, long the past-time of filial-pietistic boosters, managed to escape their antiquarian label, so also have picture books begun the climb to academic legitimacy. In American history, several recent books of or about pic- tures significantly expand our knowledge and appreciation of the urban past. * * * Reps, John. Views, and Viewmakers of Urban America: Lithographs of Towns and Cities in the United States and Canada, Notes on the Artists and Publishers, and a Union Catalog of Their Work, 1825-1925. Columbia, Missouri: University of Missouri Press, 1984. Pp.xvi, 570. 90 black and white plates; 13 colour plates. Tables, maps, illustrations, index. $90.00 U.S. John Reps's magnificent Views and Viewmakers of Urban American is four books in one. The first, a mon- ograph on the process by which the views were drawn, printed, and marketed could easily stand alone. It iden- tifies publishers, examines purposes, and evaluates the views for reliability. The second, contains prints that would charm the most die-hard foe of urban life. The third, a biographical dictionary of 51 of the most prolific view- scape artists, provides two or three pages of commentary for each artist, most of whom were relatively unknown previously. The fourth, lists 4,480 of the views and gives their location, date, size, artist, lithographer, publisher, and printer. Views of towns and cities were probably the most pop- ular form of printed pictures in the nineteenth-century United States: Americans loved pictures — of leaders, battles, railroads and ships, sports, birds and animals — but especially they loved pictures of urban glory or the old home town. Although invariably done for commercial purposes, many of the views are artistically pleasing and the majority are surprisingly faithful to reality. Reps tested a number of them against a variety of other evidence and found only a few contained serious distortions. A few artists pumped up the skyline or whitewashed less sightly parts, but for the most part accuracy rivalled beauty as a criterion in reviews: hence, successful artists and print- ers usually found it in their best financial interests to be as reliable as possible. Some artists drew as many as twelve views a year but most drew far fewer. The artist's rendering was merely the beginning of the technical and business process: the lithographers, printers, business agents, salesmen were part of the assembly line that put the views on thousands of parlor walls. Much fanfare preceded a new view and its eventual appearance often marked an important point in a community's life. These bird's eye lithographs, immensely popular for nearly all of the nineteenth century, declined rapidly in the twentieth. Hard times in the 1890s depressed the market; cities changed so quickly that renderings became obsolete before they could be marketed; changing tastes made them less respectable for the homes of the elite; and, most importantly, the airplane made the imaginary viewpoint of the bird's eye less necessary. When one could photograph a real bird's eye view, the artists' pictures seemed less creative and exotic. Most nineteenth-century views proved profitable. Average costs to the businessmen who paid all the artistic and commercial expenses were about $500: average sales were about $1,000. When the profits declined so did the number and quality of the views. Reps makes a major substantive contribution to art, social, communications, and business history as well as to urban studies. Additionally, his work is equally impor- tant as a source for historians. Land use and development, architecture, maritime activities, commercial develop- ment, railroad and other transportation systems, city planning and layout, and urban engineering are only some of the more obvious subjects of the physical environment that the views can help illuminate. They would be espe- cially useful for comparative work among cities, types of 171 Urban History Review/Revue d'histoire urbaine cities, eras, and regions. Most of the large cities have several views listed in the catalogue: Toronto, for exam- ple, has fifteen and Winnipeg has eight. New York, the city with the most, has nearly two hundred. As Reps knows, it is almost certain that large numbers of pub- lished views have escaped his research net. Nonetheless, no guide in the future is likely to turn up more than a small fraction of the number he has found. * * * Stilgoe, John R. Metropolitan Corridor: Railroads and the American Scene. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983. Pp. xv, 397. 179 Illustrations, bibliography, index. $29.95 U.S. It would be hard to imagine a book more fascinating and innovative than John Stilgoe's analysis of the impact of the railroad on the American environment. Arguing that no traditional term, urban, suburban, or rural, prop- erly defines the social organizations that grew along the railroad right-of-way, Stilgoe created the term "metro- politan corridor" to describe the combination of depots, crossings, businesses, and industry that grew tunnel-like on either side of the railroad tracks. The society of the metropolitan corridor developed its own symbols, archi- tecture, and literature as it transformed the way America looked and Americans lived. Nearly half of this 400-page book consists of photo- graphs. They range from the simple view of a locomotive with its train-for-a-tail wagging down the tracks to the iron- brick-wire junction of tracks, power station, telegraph lines, terminal, and business that sat in the centre of many cities. Stilgoe manages to resist the temptation to fill the pages with redundant scenes of beautiful trains and quaint depots: each photograph adds in some way to the analysis. Although traditional terms are inappropriate nouns to describe the relationship between railroad and environment, the photo- graphs show these terms have some utility as adjectives: there were urban, suburban, and rural metropolitan corridors. Everywhere the trains went activity of some sort went with them. They moved with an emotional and economic force too powerful for small boys or businessmen to resist. One customarily hears figures of speech such as "sinews" or "arteries" applied to railroads. These imply that railroads connected one part of the economic body to another or that they carried vital materials from organ to organ. As Stilgoe implicitly shows, however, railways were not merely a transportation system that existed to bind parts of society together. They may have started that way, but they became an end in themselves and often became more important than the communities they were built to serve. Railroad Street eclipsed Main Street, ter- minals dominated city centres, track layout determined road construction and traffic patterns, people moved to be near rail service, and the town ignored by the railroads watched while rivals sprang up along the right-of-way. Few Americans, however, thought they had created a Frankenstein; from Ralph Waldo Emerson to William Dean Howells, trains and trolleys inspired romance and praise. The automobile era replaced the railroad era in influ- encing business patterns, architecture, and spacial relationships. Americans wax their cars on weekends, gas stations and snack bars fill up the four corners of a cross- roads, the economy rises and falls with news from Detroit, the used-car salesman has become a metaphorical figure, but somehow the automobile has not found a place in the heart equal to the railroad. Little boys do not wear bus driver's hats and wave as the Greyhound goes by. Until the recent wave of truckdriver country and western mov- ies and songs, cars have not been an important part of popular art as trains once were. And, despite the fact that almost everyone depends on and uses them, automobiles inspire hostility among many people. Noxious exhaust, nerve-wracking noise, the absence of parking places, expensive repairs, and other unfortunate spinoffs, seem to rank equally with convenience and speed in many minds. Trains polluted and killed but few people complained. We often seem to bemoan the advent of cars as much as we lament the passing of the railroad. Miller, Fredric, Morris J. Vogel and Allen F. Davis. Still Philadelphia: A Photographic History, 1890-1940. Phil- adelphia: Temple University Press, 1983. Pp. xiv, 290. 250 Illustrations, bibliography, index. $24.95 U.S. Less innovative than the above two books, Still Philadel- phia, is comprised primarily of photographs interspersed with commentary and data. On the surface, it resembles Robert Harney's and Harold Troper's, Immigrants: A Portrait of the Urban Experience, 1890-1930 (Toronto, 1975). Like Harney's and Troper's award-winning pictorial history of Toronto, Still Philadelphia eschews photographs of man- sions, grand public buildings, and high culture and concentrates on the lives of the average and poor. The pho- tographs are sometimes compelling, the commentary is accurate and informative, but both lack the punch of the Harney and Troper volume. There are too many pictures making the same point or no point; many of them require a knowledge of Philadelphia's geography and neighbourhoods to be appreciated. The text contains little analysis and no discernible thesis. Neither does Still Philadelphia match the level of achievement of the published volumes in the History of Canadian Cities Series. The blurb from Temple Univer- sity Press calls the book a "Philadelphia Family Album." This is an accurate description. Few scholars will cite Still 172 Book Notes/Notes bibliographiques Philadelphia in serious works on urban history, but thou- sands of Philadelphians will buy, peruse, and thoroughly enjoy it. Philadelphia, of course, is a city with an extraordi- narily rich history by North American standards. Founded by William Penn, the capital of the main Quaker colony metamorphosized from the "City of Brotherly Love" in the colonial period into the "City of Homes" in the late nineteenth century. Famed for its row houses, Philadel- phia experienced the twin migrations from Eastern Europe and the American South that most northeastern cities did, but managed to maintain a relatively low population density in its ethnic neighbourhoods that never approached the stark horror of Boston, New York, and Chicago slums. The authors show many pictures of misery, overcrowding, and unsanitary living conditions, but they also focus on the positive qualities of the immigrant experience. Work scenes predominate followed closely by shouts of children at play in the streets. Many people looked proud of their jobs and even ragamuffin kids seemed hardpressed not to ham it up when someone had a camera. Bruce C. Daniels Department of History University of Winnipeg 173 
work_b2abni7qfrdinde6x52srgsut4	----	A Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset with Doctoral Students Volume 14, 2019 Accepting Editor Chipo Mutongi │Received: February 5, 2019│ Revised: May 10, 2019 │ Accepted: July 26, 2019. Cite as: Zygouris-Coe, V., & Roberts, S. K. (2019). A Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset with Doctoral Students. International Journal of Doctoral Studies, 14, 567-580. https://doi.org/10.28945/4406 (CC BY-NC 4.0) This article is licensed to you under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License. When you copy and redistribute this paper in full or in part, you need to provide proper attribution to it to ensure that others can later locate this work (and to ensure that others do not accuse you of plagiarism). You may (and we encour- age you to) adapt, remix, transform, and build upon the material for any non-commercial purposes. This license does not permit you to use this material for commercial purposes. A SITUATED FRAMEWORK FOR SOCIALISING A SCHOLARSHIP MINDSET WITH DOCTORAL STUDENTS Vassiliki (Vicky) Zygouris-Coe * University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA vzygouri@ucf.edu Sherron Killingsworth Roberts University of Central Florida, Orlando, FL, USA Sherron.Roberts@ucf.edu * Corresponding author ABSTRACT Aim/Purpose The doctoral experience is a complex, challenging, and life-changing process. Cultivating a scholarship mindset is a requirement for success in early and later academic careers. This paper presents a situated framework for socializing doc- toral students' scholarship mindset. Background Faculty of doctoral education programmes prepare students for higher educa- tion and other scholarly positions. Methodology In this situated framework, two doctoral faculty utilized their academic qualifi- cations, programmatic experiences, and related academic literature to develop a framework that has been successful in a particular School of Teacher Education context. Contribution The situated framework, which includes steps to Develop, Nurture and Chal- lenge, Apprentice, and Celebrate scholars, can serve as a guide to encourage review and evaluation of doctoral education programmes and the ways in which they develop doctoral students' scholarship mindset and preparation. Findings Key findings included increased doctoral student participation in events and experiences that contributed to developing a scholarship mindset and strength- ening their scholarly publication and research trajectory. Recommendations for Practitioners Doctoral students need to engage in ongoing, strategic experiences that will positively impact their scholarship trajectory. Retention of doctoral students is not just a matter of successful completion of course work. Recommendations for Researchers Research in the environmental learning contexts of doctoral education pro- grammes and in the ways in which doctoral academic mentors engage students in scholarship may prove useful to programme developers. https://doi.org/10.28945/4406 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ mailto:vzygouri@ucf.edu mailto:Sherron.Roberts@ucf.edu Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 568 Impact on Society Scholarship during doctoral studies and beyond will contribute to the develop- ment of quality education, knowledge, and research at all levels. Future Research Future research should focus on empirical studies that explore the effectiveness of this situated framework through the perspectives of additional faculty and doctoral students at the particular university context. Keywords doctoral education; doctoral mentoring; doctoral programmes; scholarship; scholarship mindset, socialisation INTRODUCTION According to UNESCO’s 1998 World Conference on World Declaration on Higher Education for the Twen- ty-First Century: Vision and Action, Article 1, the mission of higher education is to “…educate highly qualified graduates and responsible citizens able to meet the needs of all sec- tors of human activity, by offering relevant qualifications, including professional training, which combine high-level knowledge and skills, using courses and content continually tailored to the present and future needs of society; provide opportunities for higher learning and for learning throughout life; advance, create and disseminate knowledge through research; … and, contrib- ute to the development and improvement of education at all levels, including through the train- ing of teachers.” (see http://www.unesco.org/education/educprog/wche/declaration_eng.htm) Successful completion of the doctoral process is a complex, challenging, and life-changing process (Barnacle & Mewburn, 2010; Ryland, Stockley, Brouwer, & Stechyson, 2009). Understandably, Rosser (2004) notes that the doctoral process needs to include various types of socialisation and mentoring. Based on this premise, this paper outlines a situated framework for cultivating scholar- ship so that doctoral students might gain a deeper understanding of the key developmental objectives of doctoral education, the importance of academic scholarship in the development of their profes- sional identity, and of their related career trajectories to follow. Historically, European doctoral edu- cation consisted of intense individual mentoring as a means of preparing students to navigate ad- vanced studies and research, inducting them into the academic community by introducing them to professional networks, and helping them launch their academic careers through a supportive and scholarly professional relationship (e.g., Hu, Thomas, & Lance, 2008; Paglis, Green, & Bauer, 2006). Yet, many modern Western doctoral programmes often fail to capture this intense mentoring needed to cultivate mindsets with the love, curiosity, and propensity for advanced scholarship. A scholarly community plays an important role in how doctoral students experience the doctoral process and what mindsets they develop about the role of scholarship during and beyond their doc- toral studies (Gardner & Mendoza, 2010; Golde, 2010; Kiley, 2009). Research on doctoral education has identified factors that impact the doctoral experience, for example, the relationship between the supervisory professor and the doctoral student (e.g., Sambrook, Stewart, & Roberts, 2008), the exist- ing scholarly community (e.g., Pyhältö, Stubb, & Lonka, 2009), and the supervising professors’ and doctoral students’ beliefs about research and the supervision process (e.g., Åkerlind, 2008; Kiley & Mullins, 2005; McCulloch, Guerin, Jayatilaka, Calder, & Ranasingle, 2017). What a student learns during their doctoral experience is situated in social and cultural contexts (Billet, Smith, & Barker, 2005; Holland, Skinner, Lachiotte, & Cain, 1998; McCulloch et al., 2017). That is, doctoral students’ learning does not occur in a vacuum. Their learning is a synergistic outcome of engagement in a variety of activities, shaped by individual histories, beliefs, curiosities, and intentions. Ongoing inter- actions and professional relationships with professors and others within their discipline, institution, professional organisations, and other contexts also contribute to their learning and shape their agency and identity. In mentoring doctoral students toward successful careers and research trajectories, doc- toral programmes should provide strategic and ongoing experiences in scholarship beyond their standard coursework and dissertation processes, because becoming a scholar requires developing a scholarship mindset. Zygouris-Coe & Roberts 569 In this paper, the authors, who serve as PhD programme coordinators and as mentors for PhD and EdD students at a large metropolitan university in Southeastern United States, first provide a ra- tionale through related research and then outline a situated framework for mentoring doctoral stu- dents. Additionally, evidence, student products or tasks, and other metrics showing reflection and growth regarding developing a scholarship mindset, and connections between the framework and the academic training literature are highlighted. Both professors have mentored doctoral students in the School of Teacher Education for at least 15 years, and both have received university-wide recognition for mentorship (see Appendix for a complete list of degree tracks for doctoral programmes). The first author is programme coordinator for the PhD programme in Education, Reading Educa- tion/Literacy Track and the EdD programme in Curriculum and Instruction Reading Educa- tion/Literacy Specialization. The second author is the programme coordinator for the PhD pro- gramme in the Elementary Education Track and the EdD programme in Curriculum and Instruction Elementary Education Specialization. In our experiences, doctoral programmes typically have two types of mentorship: supervisory mentoring through chairing a thesis or dissertation and socialisa- tion mentoring in terms of facilitating the development of scholars. In the context of this paper, both authors have significant experiences in chairing dissertations as well as formal mentoring of doctoral students. Professors play a key role in socialising doctoral students in scholarship (Healy, 1997). As the authors began to envision cultivating a scholarship mindset, we recognised that a doctoral programme is more than the mere sum of courses and seminars within a given programme of study. Socialisation involves the knowledge and skills necessary for one to become a member of a profession or a pro- fessional organisation, as well as learning the values, norms, discourse, and practices of the culture of that profession or professional organisation (Van Maanen & Schein, 1979). Professional socialisation is the process of learning through education and training, the knowledge, skills, values, cultural norms, discourse, expectations, behaviours and attitudes needed to successfully fulfill a professional role (Moore, 1970). Mentoring and apprenticeships facilitate doctoral students’ professional sociali- sation and identity construction. The following question guided this conceptual paper: How can a scholarship mindset be cultivated throughout students’ doctoral education experiences? Therefore, we set out to provide doctoral students with the knowledge, experiences, interactions with experi- enced members of the profession, feedback, and tools required for them to become a scholar and a member of a scholarly professional community. From beginning to end, doctoral programmes must envelop students in the socialisation process of cultivating scholarship for a lifetime; therefore, we created milestones to address the known obstacles of any doctoral programme, and to propel our students forward into their academic careers. Almost 20 years ago, Bair and Haworth (1990) reported estimates that between 40 to 60 % of students who begin doctoral studies did not matriculate to graduation. Attrition for doctoral students remain a disturbing 50% according to the recent estimates of persistence (Cassuto, 2013). With such high attrition rates, doctoral programme coordinators should begin with thoughtful and intentional action plans to enhance and scale scholarship mindsets in stages. Therefore, we developed a situated framework for socializing doctoral students toward a scholarship mindset. A SITUATED FRAMEWORK FOR SOCIALISING A SCHOLARSHIP MINDSET IN THE PRESENT UNIVERSITY CONTEXT The word scholar has multiple meanings; for example, one who has conducted an advanced and spe- cialised study in a field; a person who is highly educated and also has an aptitude for study; one who has profound knowledge of a particular topic. In 1837, Ralph Waldo Emerson famously gave a speech to the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Harvard University entitled “The American Scholar” which points to the need for scholars in this new land of America to avoid relying on foreign scholars, but to become “... the designated intellect. In the right state, he is Man Thinking. In the degenerate state, when the victim of society, he tends to become a mere thinker, or still worse, the parrot of Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 570 other men’s thinking.” (p. 1). Boyer (1990) and Diamond (2002) echo the need for scholars to be more than mere thinkers; they must make their “designated intellect” or thinking public in order for it to be valued. Emerson (1837) cautions that scholars must be more than bookworms; books must serve as an impetus toward action. Contrary to a scholar, a practitioner is someone who is actively engaged in a profession or occupation. Often practitioners who read, analyze, and implement poli- cies or other related issues enter our doctoral programmes in teacher education. Consequently, the socialization process presented within this paper facilitates the necessary shift from a practitioner to a scholar. When students first enter a doctoral programme with the goal of a higher degree, they bring an array of experiences, content, and expertise, even myths about the roles of a scholar. They enter the doc- toral programme with an established identity, with cultural experiences, and with their ideas and ex- pectations of what the doctoral process and related experiences entail. Their academic, social, cul- tural, interpersonal, and personal development is heavily dependent upon their mindsets, expecta- tions, and attitudes about scholarship and the doctoral process. Often, initial notions of what makes a scholar is one who is cloistered away reading and thinking, without connections to sharing, praxis, or publishing their scholarship. With influence from Emerson’s impactful speech, Boyer (1990) in Scholarship Reconsidered presents the complex, layered totality of the definitions of scholarship around four arenas: the scholarship of discovery, the scholarship of teaching, the scholarship of integration, and the scholarship of application (later called the scholarship of engagement including service learning). Aligning the mindsets of entering doctoral students with powerful ideas about the Gestalt of the professoriate such as Boyer’s (1990) is a start. This makes the formal and informal scholarly mentoring experiences to socialize students toward a scholarship mindset throughout the doctoral process all the more essential. What is a mindset? In general terms, a mindset refers to a belief that orients one’s responses to situa- tions. Mindsets are more than beliefs; they are cognitive functions, a set of assumptions and meth- ods that frame how we view situations; they direct our attention to important cues; they suggest goals. When mindsets become habitual, they define our identity and aspirations, and they can affect learning, achievement, and performance interpretations. In turn, a scholarship mindset can help doc- toral students develop habits of mind and behaviours to support a lifetime of learning. A scholar- ship mindset ideally must begin with incorporating intrinsic elements such as self-efficacy, self- motivation (Bandura & Schunk, 1981; McCulloch et al., 2017), and self-discipline (Duckworth & Seligman, 2005). Certainly, a scholarship mindset is likely found at the intersections of passion and persistence (Duckworth, Peterson, Matthews, & Kelly, 2007). The positive overlapping intersections of our scholars’ passionate interests and their self-motivated persistence appear to be at least part of the formula for cultivating scholarship for reducing attrition and for understanding why students per- sist in doctoral programmes. Addressing these critical elements and intentionally trying to infuse these into the doctoral process is important for the benefit of our novice scholars. Dweck, Walton, and Cohen (2014) published a very helpful summary of these critical elements in Academic Tenacity: Mindsets and Skills that Promote Long-term Learning. Their research uncovered the sali- ent factors which contribute to academic tenacity, and which are often thought of as outside the realm of coursework. They note that these key characteristics can play an even more important role than cognitive factors in advancing academic performance. Therefore, considering students’ beliefs about themselves and their scholarship, their feelings and perceptions about the doctoral process and related coursework, as well as self-control habits are important to cultivate scholarship and work hab- its in positive ways. They identify seven key characteristics that highly correlate with academically tenacious students who (a) Belong academically and socially, (b) Thrive communally over competi- tively, (c) View school as relevant to their future, (d) Work hard and can postpone immediate pleas- ure, (e) Are not derailed by intellectual or social difficulties, (f) Seek out challenges, and (g) Remain engaged over long time periods (Dweck et al., 2014, p. 4). These seven characteristics all intersect beautifully with the notion of a scholarship mindset and embody the life of an academic. Upon re- Zygouris-Coe & Roberts 571 flection of these seven characteristics, our doctoral programmes, coursework, and the futures of our doctoral students, we started to identify intentional stages, often recursive and overlapping, which would encapsulate and honor our practice. Therefore, our situated framework (see Figure 1) includes the following rich interactions of varied scholarly activities and practices: Develop Scholars, Nurture and Challenge Scholars, Apprentice Scholars, and Celebrate Scholars. Our framework also embeds Dweck et al. (2014) seven characteristics that signal academic success in completing the terminal de- gree. The key characteristics of (a) Belong academically and socially, and (b) Thrive communally over competitively are included in the first step Develop Scholars of our framework, while (c) View school as relevant to their future, (e) Are not derailed by intellectual or social difficulties, and (f) Seek out challenges align strongly with the next step to Nurture and Challenge Scholars. During the Ap- prentice Scholars step, the framework focuses on (d) Work hard and postpone immediate pleasure. Last, the final step of Celebrate Scholars is fully dependent on Dweck’s key characteristic to (g) Re- main engaged over long time periods. Figure 1. A Situated Framework for Socializing Doctoral Students’ Scholarship Mindset with Key Characteristics of Academically Tenacious Students (Dweck et al., 2014). DEVELOP SCH OLARS The scholarly community plays a key role in shaping doctoral students’ experiences (Gardner & Mendoza, 2010; Golde, 2010; Kiley, 2009; Pyhältö et al., 2009). As doctoral programme coordina- Develop Scholars Key Characteristics: ~ Belong academically and socially ~ Thrive communally over competitively Nurture Scholars Key Characteristics: ~ View school as relevant to one's future ~ Are not derailed by intellectual or social difficulties ~ Seek out challenges Apprentice Scholars Key Characteristics: ~ Work hard and postpone pleasure Celebrate Scholars Key Characteristics: ~ Remain engaged over long time periods Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 572 tors, the first component of our framework is focused upon on how to Develop Scholars. This component actually begins as early as the posting of invitations to apply for the doctoral pro- gramme. The words we use to invite potential scholars to join our campuses can help to convey the scholarly work of the professoriate, i.e. “This full-time doctoral programme requires a leave of ab- sence to prepare students for a life in academia.” McCulloch, et al. (2017) explored the initial deci- sions of students entering a doctoral degree and found that autonomy, relatedness, competence, self- efficacy, outcome expectations, and goals were important factors. Therefore, the information and the structure relayed throughout our websites, email correspondences, informal gatherings with cur- rent doctoral students, and interviews have the capacity to show the outcome expectations and pri- orities for informing a scholarship mindset, i.e. “...is designed so that you shadow and are mentored by professors in order to better assume that role.” Including current scholars, doctoral students, and/or new assistant professors in campus interview visits and conversations often reveal sobering publication expectations in a natural and friendly setting. Research shows that doctoral students who gain a strong foundation in teaching/pedagogy and research, become more effective scholars (Bok, 2015) because they know how to teach, conduct research, and understand where and how teaching and research merge; actually, they learn to view teaching as research (Lee & Kamler, 2008). As we share our positive expectations early and often, we find it of utmost importance to praise effort over intelligence, persistence over smartness, and tenacity and problem solving efforts over prior accom- plishments using growth mindset language (Mueller & Dweck, 1998; Vansteenkiste, Simons, Lens, Sheldon, & Deci, 2004). During this early induction into a doctoral programme, we work to include doctoral students in de- partmental and college committee meetings, on external funding projects, and on conference plan- ning, so they begin to see the many roles we play. Encouraging these nascent roles that also reflect Dweck’s et al. (2014) key characteristics to Belong academically and socially, and to Thrive commu- nally over competitively are easily and often highlighted in this first step: Develop Scholars. Further, we offer doctoral students opportunities to serve alongside us as ad hoc reviewers for our profes- sional conference proposals and /or scholarly journals. In so doing, they start to learn the discourse of their discipline including written conventions, domain- and scholarship-specific vocabulary, and they gain perspective on the review process and the literature related to their fields. Likewise, provid- ing access to speakers, workshops, conferences, and research seminars allows doctoral students to begin to refine their scholarship vocabulary, discourse, and knowledge. Of course, the in-depth ex- plorations of the research literature related to their coursework rigourously gives shape to developing a solid knowledge about their topics of interest. The early development of scholars reflects a sociocultural perspective on learning that is derived from Vygotsky’s work. This perspective on learning highlights the important role that social interac- tion plays in learning and it also signals the significance of language in this process. In situated cog- nition theory, which falls under this theoretical umbrella, learning is characterised as increased partic- ipation in the activities of a community (Brown, Collins & Duguid, 1989; Lave & Wenger, 1991). Developing scholars and their scholarship mindsets, warrants the development of strategic and varied participation activities for doctoral students in the university and professional learning communities. N URTURE AN D CH ALLEN GE SCH OLARS One of the most eye-opening revelations in working with doctoral students over the years is main- taining a balance between nurturing, supporting, and encouraging students while at the same time challenging, pushing, and inspiring students to go farther and dream big. Allowing for this “push- me/ pull-me” effect works to keep students feeling safe and supported while aiming high. Doctoral students may feel hesitant to share their problems or queries with their mentors. Reminders, during this step of Nurturing and Challenging Scholars, of the key characteristics to (c) View school as rele- vant to their future, (e) To persist without being derailed by intellectual or social difficulties, and to (f) Zygouris-Coe & Roberts 573 Seek out challenges help bolster dispositions and give purpose to the experiences offered to doctoral students. Strongly aligned with these characteristics, socialising a scholarship mindset requires a commitment both to nurture and to challenge doctoral students. Reminiscent of Mathews (2009) piece, we encourage doctoral students to work hard and be collegial, building on an earlier key char- acteristic (Dweck et al., 2014) to thrive communally rather than competitively, and keeping in mind the balance necessary to succeed. Doctoral students learn that feeling vulnerable and keeping a work-life balance is part of academia (Council of Graduate Schools, 2010; Fitzsimons & Bargh; 2003; Pintrich, 2000). As programme coordinators, we work to include our doctoral students in presentations at confer- ences, supporting them in attending and networking with colleagues from other institutions. Often, during this stage, projects and papers from their research and statistics courses can be reshaped into conference presentations and submissions for professional publications. Another means of fostering scholarship by Nurturing and Challenging Scholars might include encouraging our students to form their own weekly writing groups or support systems, or include doctoral students in our writing groups. One colleague in teacher education creates a similar culture of research promoting scholar- ship mindset by establishing writing teams around grant work and research projects; years later, these same writing teams meet virtually from around the country via Skype to keep their own research agendas vibrant. As programme coordinators for our respective doctoral programmes, we work to create realistic milestones to inculcate our doctoral students into the professoriate. As a preliminary milestone, doc- toral students are instructed to create their own academic resumes or curriculum vitae to be reviewed by faculty. This leads to the next concrete example and milestone of creating either an electronic portfolio (e.g., livebinder, livetext, weebly, or wikis) that honours the teaching, service, and research activities of their first years in the doctoral programme. Learning the synergistic balancing act at the intersections of teaching and research should also be addressed (Feldman, 1987; Olson & Simmons, 1996; Pyhältö, Vekkaila, & Keskinin, 2015). After this portfolio presentation to faculty, doctoral stu- dents appreciate the feedback from faculty on this authentic milestone that will be carried out in one form or another, often annually, throughout their entire careers. By providing access to listen and learn from young scholars, nascent assistant professors, guest speakers, former tenure and promotion committee members, and interviewing applicants on campus, our doctoral students also hear the need for clearly thinking through and articulating a plan for their research trajectories. Launching from dissertation topics, we encourage doctoral students to create five to seven slides that show the next three to four projects that stem from their data collection or that parallel the gaps they are seeking to fill. Revisiting these research trajectories, that include time- lines toward completion, each semester and sharing with colleagues and faculty add clarity and pro- vide some revelatory moments for students as their dissertations progress. Following a traditional manner, comprehensive examinations or candidacy exams occur after the first two years of coursework. In a non-traditional fashion, we impose multi-levels and multi-portions to prove candidacy, such as a professional portfolio, a take home portion, an on-demand portion, and an oral examination presentation and follow-up with the committee. All of these activities serve as challenges and hurdles to accomplish, yet engender necessary feedback along the way so as to nurture doctoral students toward a scholarship mindset. APPREN TICE SCH OLARS Just as Healy (1997) first observed and recommended, professors must serve to apprentice doctoral students in a scholarship mindset. Originally in the United States, apprenticing for scholarship began after coursework and establishing candidacy as students move toward dissertations, but as most Eu- ropean doctoral programmes traditionally encompass, our role of apprenticing scholars begins much sooner and across many venues. In our view, socialising a scholarship mindset is a multi-faceted pro- Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 574 cess aimed at developing a foundation of scholarship to support doctoral students’ career success- es. During this Apprentice Scholars step, the framework focuses on reinforcing the Dweck, et al., (2014) key characteristic to (d) Work hard and postpone immediate pleasure. This foundation is de- veloped through regular supervisory practices, mentoring meetings, individual conferences, through socialising doctoral students in scholarly learning communities (both inside the department/college and university and also inside the greater professional scholarly communities), and through goals re- lated to professional identity and agency development. In our experiences, Apprenticing scholars is an area that Western doctoral programmes are less inten- tional in planning. By co-authoring manuscripts, attending conferences together, presenting papers, modelling professional correspondence, providing academic feedback, and discussing identity con- struction or branding, doctoral students learn the values, norms, discourse, practices, and necessary tools for their successful membership in scholarly professional communities and for being a part of the larger professoriate (Van Maanen & Schein, 1979). Relationships between supervising professors or dissertation chairs and doctoral students are im- portant for professional socialisation and identity development (Gardner, 2008; Green, 1991; Hall & Burns, 2009; Smith & Hathmaker, 2014; Sweizer, 2009). For example, Gardner (2008) found that students in her study transitioned from a doctoral student to a more developed professional identity as they approached candidacy status and especially during the dissertation phase. To become schol- ars, they must develop knowledge about their discipline, about specific research interests, about edu- cational research methods, about transitioning to becoming an independent researcher, and, at a very foundational level, they must learn how knowledge and scholarship within their disciplines are creat- ed. While in their programmes, students learn from various professional experts about how knowledge is developed, shared, and evaluated in their discipline. Students learn about the texts of their discipline and how to read, write, and communicate scholarship in discipline-specific ways. In keeping with this component doctoral students who are apprenticed into developing discipline- specific and scholarship habits of mind have access to privileged knowledge and have more oppor- tunities to actively participate in discipline discourse communities (Boyer, 1990; Hyland, 2004). Aca- demic discourse is a form of formal spoken or written communication. According to James Gee, discourse encompasses the particular ways of ‘behaving, interacting, valuing, thinking, believing, speaking, and often reading and writing’ (1996, p. viii), which characterize a particular community. It is through the use of these ways that we can identify oneself and others as members of a particular community. Gee’s use of discourse emphasises that this notion involves far more that the general sense of discourse that refers solely to reading and writing. The socialisation of doctoral students into scholarly activities and into developing a scholarship mindset also develops novice scholars’ dis- course. For example, the discourse of academia, will encompass the values, attitudes, habits of mind, beliefs, cultural norms, and ways of interacting that are particular to scholars in given contexts, as well as the ways of addressing and solving problems, using various ways to communicate infor- mation, reading texts, etc. (Gee, 2011) From a discourse perspective, successful learning involves entering and then participating in a dis- course community. It involves learning the small features of discourse, such as the nuanced and technical uses of the specialized vocabulary of the profession, as well as taking on the larger features that reinforce how people enact and develop identity through the language, beliefs, norms, values and actions of the profession. In this view, membership of a community is signified through the appro- priation and use of the discourse of that community. The supervisory advisers play a key role in in- viting doctoral students to enter such communities. Through strategic participation, doctoral stu- dents are socialised into becoming members of a scholarly professional community, and therefore they develop a particular identity within that community. Gee (1996) highlights that in higher educa- tion contexts the role of the professor (the ‘insider’ to the discipline) is to induct students (the ‘out- siders’) into the discourse of a discipline through a process of participation in that particular dis- course community. Zygouris-Coe & Roberts 575 So, through the process of participating in the scholarly doctoral education discourse community over the period of their studies, the doctoral student increasingly takes on the disciplinary discourse of scholarship that enables him to participate in the social practices of the scholarly community and begins to develop the identity of being a scholar. In other words, for doctoral students to learn the discourse of academia, they need to have strategic, multiple, and ongoing experiences and opportuni- ties with developing the “language” and mindsets of scholarship within their particular discipline. Similarly, providing multiple opportunities for discussing discourse related to a particular discipline gives doctoral students practice with making connections, creating mind maps, and teasing out Venn diagrams to describe their work (Singh & Lukkarila, 2017). By synthesizing the many discrepant and overlapping concepts related to their work, students are apprenticed into opening up to new insights that will prove quite important to their life work (Singh & Lukkarila, 2017). These types of experi- ences offer doctoral candidates the opportunity to revisit and revise their vitae, their research trajec- tories or timelines, and their professional portfolios. Working side by side and providing specific feedback toward a particular outcome (Healy, 1997) is key to any apprenticeship experience; there- fore, incorporating precursors and possible pilot studies to the process of dissertation data collection or analyses is vital as is the pairing of candidates with different professors in research projects and co-authoring manuscripts. Likewise, doctoral students at many different levels can participate in au- thoring cycles, writing circles, or writing groups (Jones, 2016) to spawn collaborative or individual manuscripts. All of these activities provide students and faculty with a solid platform for offering needed feedback and for reassuring candidates that scholarship is indeed a process. During this time, we often elicit and discuss students’ personal metaphors that capture the essence of a lifetime of scholarship and research (based on Jalongo, Boyer, & Ebbeck, 2013). Writing for scholarly publica- tion is now an expectation as they graduate, not after graduation (Stoilescu & McDougall, 2010), so the ‘tacit knowledge’ of writing for publication within the field is even more important (Jalongo, Boyer, & Ebbeck, 2013). Each manuscript submitted, even rejected, and each milestone of the doctoral journey are means of apprenticeship. No doubt, a common milestone in most doctoral programmes is the writing, presen- tation, and acceptance of the dissertation proposal as a signal that the apprentice is moving toward performing in a more independent fashion. CELEBRATE SCH OLARS Within this situated framework, the components set forth as a means of establishing a scholarship mindset are to cultivate scholars, nurture and challenge scholars, apprentice scholars, and last, cele- brate scholars. This last step of Celebrate Scholars (as seen in Figure 1) is fully dependent on Dweck’s key characteristic to (g) Remain engaged over long time periods. The delayed gratification one must embrace throughout the entirety of a doctoral programme and through each stage of the professorial life is fully dependent on celebrating scholarship. Maintaining a tone of celebration is key to the entire process of entering the professoriate, managing the ambiguity and rejections. For early career scholars, the low publication rates in scholarly journals discourage those earning recent doctorates who may abandon notions of publishing their dissertations (Lee & Kamler, 2008). In order to mitigate this tendency, doctoral students should be mentored to create timelines or similar research trajectories of their anticipated early work (Kamler, 2008). Further, mentoring students to break down avenues for scholarly publications including the creation of databases of possible peer- reviewed publication outlets for their current and future work paves the way for owning a scholarship mindset in these later stages. Many scholar-authors maintain that requiring a particular course during doctoral studies that focuses upon inculcating students into the roles of the professoriate and in writ- ing for scholarly publication is advisable (Goodson, 2017; Jalongo, 2002; Jalongo, Boyer, & Ebbeck, 2013; Jalongo & Saracho, 2016). Additionally, Lee and Kamler (2008) found that establishing small writing groups, supervised by experienced scholars, was integral to disseminating the dissertation work toward publication. Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 576 Socialising a mindset of scholarship for the long and fruitful lives of academics must also include celebrations, small and large. Celebrating small goals fuels persistence, academic tenacity, and fur- thers goal setting. Celebrations are an important element of any culture, including academia. Doc- toral students focus heavily on deadline after deadline, milestone after milestone. Mentoring doctoral students should also include celebrating their attempts and their achievements. Sample times to cele- brate scholars include the following: Researching and writing the dissertation, revisiting and revising vitae and timelines of research trajectories, and respecting milestones. Sometimes, celebrating small steps in positive directions, celebrating risk-taking and even failure, by encouraging strategic breaks after achieving goals, is important. RECOMMENDATIONS The situated framework for the socialization of doctoral students into scholarship is limited by our experiences and context. The framework along with the scholarship opportunities we identified and implemented in our situated context of teacher education may vary depending on other doctoral programmes’ disciplines, goals and contexts. Our paper also serves as a reference for academic and educational developers. We believe that the scholarship mindset framework provides ways to develop time management and collaboration skills of doctoral students with the potential to maximize doc- toral students’ scholarly activities, experiences and outcomes in academia. Next steps in our research include capturing multiple voices about socializing a scholarship mindset with doctoral students. We plan to interview faculty in our School of Teacher Education who mentor doctoral students in a va- riety of PhD tracks and EdD specialization areas, as well as current doctoral students and recent doc- toral graduates. Exploring experimental research to perhaps validate the recursiveness and effective- ness of the scholarship mindset framework will continue to inform practice in doctoral programmes. Based on lessons learned, a variety of situated learning experiences and conditions were outlined in this paper to support the development of a scholarship mindset. The strong recommendation of this situated framework is that supervisors and dissertation chairs should embrace the role of mentor and apprentice early on. The socialization of a scholarship mindset requires a commitment of facul- ty and supervisors to Develop Scholars to belong academically and socially as collegial and communal members of their doctoral programmes, as well as to Nurture and Challenge Scholars to view univer- sity doctoral work as relevant, to persist intellectually and socially, and to pursue challenging goals, even if that means missing the mark. Further, we recommend that the supervisory role shift to Ap- prentice Scholars to work hard alongside their dissertation chairs in order to meet the growing of the professoriate, and to Celebrate Scholars in order to keep doctoral students engaged over this long pursuit of a doctorate and their future academic lives. These recommendations are critical to social- ising a scholarship mindset, because doctoral students’ maturing dispositions become the very filters through which their entire doctoral journey is processed and which affect their career preparedness and subsequent successes. CONCLUSION Our framework for cultivating doctoral students’ scholarship mindset draws from and connects back to the related research literature. Although our context is situated, the framework refers to issues of concern to academic and educational developers globally. Doctoral programmes worldwide provide doctoral students avenues to receive formal research and academic development (Leibowitz, 2014). Certainly, professors and supervisors play a key role in apprenticing doctoral students in scholarship (Healy, 1997). Additionally, doctoral students engage in varied degrees of scholarship depending on their goals, expectations, willingness, experiences, mindsets, and learning con- texts. Preparing for academic life, a life of ongoing scholarship, requires much intentionality. We believe that socialising doctoral students’ scholarship mindset will equip them to respond to and interpret doctoral programme expectations, develop important networking, time management, and collaboration skills, and experience successful outcomes in academia. The lessons learned as mentors Zygouris-Coe & Roberts 577 of EdD and PhD students have reinforced that the doctoral experience should be viewed as an itera- tive and complex process. The doctoral experience is an academic working experience; we consider the process much more than a series of academic courses, seminars, proposals, and dissertations. A scholarship mindset is a requirement for success in early, as well as later, academic careers. The de- velopment of a professional identity requires specific experiences. Meeting the goal of preparing doctoral students to conduct original research by extending human knowledge in their field of study allows our students to embrace a scholarship mindset. Doctoral students’ scholarship mindset also carries implications for informing and transforming academic practice through scholarship and creat- ing scholarly learning communities of practice. Our hope is that their resulting knowledge, disposi- tions, and academic tenacity (Dweck, Walton, & Cohen, 2014) increases research productivity and reduces academic attrition through the tenure process and beyond. ACKNOWLEDGEMENT An abstract of this paper was presented at the Third International Conference on Doctoral Educa- tion: Organisational Leadership & Impact, April 2017. REFERENCES Akerlind, G. S. (2008). Growing and developing as a university researcher. Higher Education, 55(2), 241-254. Bair, C., R., & Haworth, J. G. (1999). Doctoral student attrition and persistence: A meta-synthesis of research. 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Re- trieved from http://www.unesco.org/education/educprog/wche/declaration_eng.htm. http://www.highereducationreview.com/news/choosing-to-study-for-a-phd-a-framework-for-examining-decisions-to-become-a-research-student.html http://www.highereducationreview.com/news/choosing-to-study-for-a-phd-a-framework-for-examining-decisions-to-become-a-research-student.html http://www.unesco.org/education/educprog/wche/declaration_eng.htm Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset 580 APPENDIX The following list reflects the variety of PhD tracks and EdD specialization areas of the doctoral mentorship experiences within the School of Teacher Education. PhD in Education Programme EdD in Curriculum & Instruction Pro- gramme Early Childhood Exceptional Student Education Elementary Education English Language Arts Exceptional Student Education Gifted Education Instructional Design & Technology Instructional Design & Technology Mathematics Education Reading Education Reading Education Science Education Science Education Social Sciences Education Social Science Education Supporting High Needs Population Teaching English to Speakers of Other Lan- guages (TESOL) Teaching English to Speakers of Other Lan- guages (TESOL) BIOGRAPHIES Dr. Vassiliki (Vicky) Zygouris-Coe is a Professor of Reading Educa- tion at the University of Central Florida, where she serves as a doctoral coordinator in the School of Teacher Education. Her research focuses on disciplinary and digital literacies. She is committed to mentoring doctoral students shape the future direction of the field of literacy. Dr. Sherron Killingsworth Roberts is a Professor of Language Arts and Literacy at the University of Central Florida, where she serves as a doctoral coordinator in the School of Teacher Education. While her re- search focuses on children’s literature, her mentorship of doctoral stu- dents remains a joy and a challenge. A Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset with Doctoral Students Abstract Introduction A Situated Framework for Socialising a Scholarship Mindset in the Present University Context Develop Scholars Nurture and Challenge Scholars Apprentice Scholars Celebrate Scholars Recommendations Conclusion Acknowledgement References Appendix Biographies 
work_b2wohh7mezf4fnthrkoy7hldju	----	JASN2011111048 1..2 OBITUARY www.jasn.org In Memoriam: Charles Bernard Carpenter Richard J. Glassock,* Edgar Milford,† Mohamed H. Sayegh,‡§ Terry Strom,| and Nicholas Tilney¶ *Department of Medicine, Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, Los Angeles, California; Departments of †Medicine and ¶Surgery, Brigham and Women's Hospital, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts; ‡Department of Medicine, American University of Beirut, Beirut, Lebanon; §Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts; and |Department of Medicine, Beth Israel-Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012. doi: 10.1681/ASN.2011111048 Do not go where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. Ralph Waldo Emerson An authentic pioneer must be visionary, courageous, resilient, patient, and persistent. All of these noble qualities were embodied in the persona of Charles Bernard (“Bernie”) Carpenter, a true pathfinder in the field of transplantation and nephrology, who passed into the pages of history at age 78 after a long struggle with Alzheimer’s disease. Only a very few individuals have been dually responsible for the founding of a medical discipline and for contributing so munificently to its growth and maturation. Bernie was born in Melrose, Massachusetts, in 1933, and remained a New Englander by nature and temperament. He possessed an inexhaustible curiosity, a calm and caring demeanor, and a dedication to the high ideals of scholarship, family, and friendship. After graduating from Dartmouth College (summa cum laude) and Dartmouth Medical School, he received his MD from Harvard Medical School in 1958. After a short sojourn at Cornell University Medical College and the Bellevue Hospital in New York for training in internal medicine, he served 2 years in the US Naval Medical Corps in Japan and then returned to Boston and the Peter Bent Brig- ham Hospital and Harvard Medical School in 1962, where he remained almost a half-century for his illustrious and highly productive career. At Harvard, he rose to full professor after 18 years, serving along the way as an investigator of the Howard Hughes Medical Institute from 1973 to 1980. Al- though he was director of the Tissue Typing and Immunogenet- ics Laboratories ofthe Brigham andWomen’s Hospital for nearly 3 decades, these titles and accomplishments are pale reflections of his iconic status in our field. Bernie, almost single-handedly, created the discipline of transplant medicine. In the heady, early days of organ trans- plantationusingazathioprineandglucocorticoids,andunderthe guidanceofJohnMerrillandJosephMurray,bothseminalfigures inthefieldofhumanorgantransplantation,hebecamethe main physician providing ongoing care for the first successful kidney transplants performed with immunosuppression in the dramatic period of 1962 to 1963—rightly called the dawn of organ allo-transplantation modified by drugs. Bernie excelled in the provision of compassionate care at a time when the out- come ofthekidney transplantationwas not as wellunderstood as it is now. The small initial brotherhood of patients with success- ful kidney grafts idolized him for his cool confidence radiating a much appreciated reassurance for their uncertain lives. He quickly expanded his horizons beyond the limits of the bedside tothelaboratory,where healsobegina life-long questto uncover Charles Bernard Carpenter Published online ahead of print. Publication date available at www.jasn.org. Correspondence: Dr. Richard J. Glassock, 8 Bethany, Laguna Niguel, CA 92677. Email: Glassock@cox.net Copyright © 2012 by the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012 ISSN : 1046-6673/2301-1 1 U P F R O N T M A T T E R S the secrets of allograft acceptance. It was this conjunction of clinical and laboratory science that brought Bernie to posterity’s pinnacle. He also became the mentor for a phenomenal succession of supremely talented and gifted individuals, whose own con- tributions firmly advanced the discipline of transplant med- icine. His disciples recall the easy spirit of cooperation and openness, the quiet acceptance of young investigators strug- gling with unfamiliar technology and the growing intricacies of transplantation immunology, and most of all, the overriding sense of integrity, honesty, openness, and critical exposition that he brought to all endeavors. Bernie became known as the “big man who made all feel bigger” when they were under his spell. Trainees and young faculty flocked to Bernie and the laboratories of the Brigham and Women’s Hospital in large numbers (over 60) knowing that their careers as clinicians and scientists in the newly min- ted field of transplantation immunology, immunogenetics, and clinical transplantation would be would be nurtured by an inspirational mentor of unmatched intellect, balanced by wit and wisdom and a willingness to listen. Their decisions to come under this guidance were rewarded by success and rec- ognition in their own right. Bernie’s light burnt even more brightly on account of his unqualified dedication to his intel- lectual offspring. By the end of his active career, Bernie had trained a great majority of the new leaders of transplantation medicine in the United States and in many foreign countries. Together with his colleagues and trainees, he published over 380 scientific papers or about one per month over a span of 40 years. It is difficult to select key contributions from such a diverse and prodigious record of clinical and basic investiga- tion; he made major contributions to the immunogenetics of transplantation and tissue typing, indirect allo-recognition, oral tolerance, mechanisms of allograft rejection, immuno- suppression (chemical and biologic), complement metabolism in disease, and many others. Bernie and the talented group of co-investigators that surrounded him touched virtually every critical issueinhuman and experimentaltissue transplantation. Naturally, such an exceptional career would bring many accolades and awards. He was elected to the American Society for Clinical Investigation and to the Association of American Physicians,andservedasthepresidentoftheAmericanSocietyof Transplant Physicians (now the American Society of Trans- plantation). Bernie, along with Ronald Guttmann, Lawrence Hunsicker, and Terry Strom, helped found this major society representing the nascent field of transplantation medicine. He received the prestigious John P. Peters Award from the American Society of Nephrology and the David Hume Award fromtheNationalKidneyFoundation.Hiscolleaguesandfriends throughout the world endowed a Carpenter Transplantation Fellowship at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital on the occasion of his retirement from active academic life. He retired officially in 2005 but the ties to Boston were so strong he did not move to his postacademic hamlet in New Hampshire until 2007. Despite all of these achievements, Bernie remained the humble and generous humanist that endeared him to all that were fortunate to know or work with him. He sought no limelight and commanded no audience. He was content to follow his instincts, to persist in his curiosity, and to guide others through the tedium and disappointments that can crop up in a research career. His ability to succeed in all of these tasks can be attributed in large part his devotion to family and the support he received from his loving wife, Sandra, and to the joy they experienced in witnessing the growth and successes of their sons, Brad and Scott, and their four grandchildren, Michaela, Emma, Andres, and Annette. Add to this the wonderful ambience of New England and the warmth of their home in Weston, summers at a cottage on Angle Pond in New Hampshire and later a new home at Bar Harbor in Maine, the numerous informal gatherings with a large coterie of close friends, and their travels to many countries as an ambassador of transplantation science, and one can appreciate the richness of Bernie’s and Sandra’s life together. His last years, like his entire illustrious career, were devoted to the pursuit of new knowledge, as he became a volunteer for a large clinical trial in Alzheimer’s disease at the Brigham and Women’s Hospital. Bernie’s career over time is testimony to the truth of the observations of Socrates and Emerson that the examined life is the one worth living. Instinct, intuition, imagination, and re- flection guided Bernie during his long and productive career, a career epitomized by a passion to understand the unknown. No biologic mystery intimidated his inquisitiveness. His aequinimitas as a teacher brought out the best in his students. His legacy survives in the knowledge he advanced and in the accomplishments of his academic progeny. He will be sorely missed but not forgotten. All that is beautiful drifts away, like the waters. William Butler Yeats DISCLOSURES None. 2 Journal of the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 23: 1–2, 2012 OBITUARY www.jasn.org 
work_b4dnyc2imnf6fajobquntu6bsi	----	Untitled Kent Academic Repository Full text document (pdf) Copyright & reuse Content in the Kent Academic Repository is made available for research purposes. Unless otherwise stated all content is protected by copyright and in the absence of an open licence (eg Creative Commons), permissions for further reuse of content should be sought from the publisher, author or other copyright holder. Versions of research The version in the Kent Academic Repository may differ from the final published version. Users are advised to check http://kar.kent.ac.uk for the status of the paper. Users should always cite the published version of record. Enquiries For any further enquiries regarding the licence status of this document, please contact: researchsupport@kent.ac.uk If you believe this document infringes copyright then please contact the KAR admin team with the take-down information provided at http://kar.kent.ac.uk/contact.html Citation for published version Collins, Michael James (2013) Manacled to Identity: Cosmopolitanism, Class, and ‘The Culture Concept’ in Stephen Crane. Comparative American Studies, 11 (4). pp. 404-417. ISSN 1477-5700. DOI https://doi.org/10.1179/1477570013Z.00000000053 Link to record in KAR http://kar.kent.ac.uk/49515/ Document Version Author's Accepted Manuscript © W. S. Maney & Son Ltd 2013 DOI 10.1179/1477570013Z.00000000053 comparative american studies, Vol. 11 No. 4, December 2013, 404–17 Manacled to Identity: Cosmopolitanism, Class, and ‘The Culture Concept’ in Stephen Crane Michael J. Collins University of Kent, UK This article begins with a close reading of Stephen Crane’s short story ‘Manacled’ from 1900, which situates this rarely considered short work within the context of contemporary debates about realism. I then proceed to argue that many of the debates raised by the tale have an afterlife in our own era of American literary studies, which has frequently focused on questions of ‘identity’ and ‘culture’ in its reading of realism and naturalism to the exclusion of the importance of cosmopolitan discourses of diffusion and exchange across national borders. I then offer a brief reading of Crane’s novel George’s Mother, which follows Walter Benn Michaels in suggesting that the recent critical attention paid to particularities of cultural difference in American studies have come to conflate ideas of class and social position with ideas of culture in ways that have ultimately obscured the presence of genuine historical inequalities in US society. In order to challenge this critical commonplace, I situate Crane’s work within a history of transatlantic cosmopolitanism associated with the ideas of Franz Boas and Matthew Arnold to demonstrate the ways in which Crane’s narratives sought out an experience of the universal within their treatments of the particular. keywords Stephen Crane, Matthew Arnold, Franz Boas, George’s Mother, ‘Manacled’, Maggie, print culture, transatlantic, cosmopolitanism, aestheticism In May 1900 the American author and journalist Stephen Crane published the short story ‘Manacled’ in the London magazine The Argosy. In several senses Crane was the archetypal expatriate American author of the later modernist era: writing, publishing, and settling in England at a time when he was facing increasing hostility in the US press for the bohemian character of his work and his decadent, noncon- formist lifestyle. Crane’s circle of friends and associates in fin de siècle Great Britain reads like a checklist of some of the most successful and important writers of the age. Henry James and Joseph Conrad were frequent visitors to his home at Brede in East 405MANACLED TO IDENTITY Sussex, Rudyard Kipling was approached to complete his final, unfinished novel The O’Ruddy, H.G. Wells wrote a glowing obituary of Crane in the August 1900 issue of The North American Review, and Arnold Bennett and Ford Madox Ford were emphatic in their praise. Whereas his US critical notices after The Red Badge of Courage (1895) had been increasingly disparaging, British critics generally were more favourable across the whole of his career. For this reason the decision to publish ‘Manacled’ first in the London Argosy, rather than with the New York syndicates that had previously carried his short fiction, was in keeping with the broad trajec- tory of Crane’s career in the final years of the 1890s. Indeed, Crane did not settle in his home country and they would not readily claim him for their own. By 1895, cosmopolitan mobility became Crane’s personal and artistic raison d’être. After leaving Asbury Park, New Jersey as a teenager, Crane lived in New York, Florida, Greece, Cuba, and Britain, seldom settling for long before a new journalistic commission moved him on to pastures new. At one time The Argosy had been a leading light in the Victorian periodical scene and had appealed to the middle classes through a careful pairing of the lush, pre- Raphaelite inspired illustrations of William Small with fictional content that shuttled between popular categories of the sensational and sentimental. But, by 1900, The Argosy had begun to face financial difficulties and a declining readership. In 1871 the magazine had been sold to the famous publishers Richard Bentley & Sons, whose prior successes with the publication of Charles Dickens, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, James Fenimore Cooper, Frances Trollope, and other major authors in cheap, ‘stand- ard’, single-volume editions seemed to suggest that the publishing house would be well placed to help the periodical capture the rising, literate, lower-middle-class readership of late-Victorian Britain.1 However, the move left the magazine awkwardl y placed in a literary marketplace that was becoming increasingly bifurcated and diversified along the lines of class and culture and, in 1901, it folded. In a cruel and ironic parallel with the fate of the publication in which his story appeared, by 1900 Crane also was facing severely declining health and fortunes. A month after the publication of ‘Manacled’ in London, the thirty-year-old Crane died of a lung haemorrhage at a health spa in the German town of Badenweiler. Indeed, it is tempting to read ‘Manacled’ biographically as both a prescient foreshadowing of his own fate and a more general allegory of authorial, artistic, and critical decline. Set in the shabby ‘Theatre Nouveau [. . .] upon a street which was not of the first importance’ (Crane, 1984: 1291), in a transatlantic city space that is deliberately devoid of identifying features, the story describes the last moments in the life of an actor who is forced to perform a dull, artistically unambitious melodrama for a ‘pitying audience’ (1291) in which ‘real horses drunk real water out of real buckets [. . .] dragging a real wagon off stage’ (1291). When the theatre catches fire, the unnamed actor finds that he is unable to escape because the crowd’s demand for verisimilitude has led to the use of ‘real handcuffs on his wrists and real anklets on his ankles’ (1291). Like The Argosy itself, the actor is unable to balance adequately between a residual demand for sentimental melodrama and a new trend for realism that was coming to dominate late-nineteenth-century transatlantic literary culture. In a neat joke Crane even transfers this problem onto the theatre itself, which is called Nouveau but performs material that is distinctly passé, even ancien. 406 MICHAEL J. COLLINS In ‘Manacled’, Crane exaggerates the ‘realness’ of the fictional play so as to probe the limits of realism as an authorial practice and satirize its attempts to represent the truth of the world ‘out there’ through fiction. By presenting the reader with a vision of the dangerous effects of stasis, Crane argues that realistic fictions frequently abandoned any ethical imperatives which may have been attendant upon the writer in favour of textualizing their subjects as the products of a particular temporal and spatial locus. In so doing, the author also dramatizes the very process that would prompt a crisis for The Argosy magazine: the emergence of increasingly fixed cul- tural hierarchies in America and Britain organized around class position and artistic taste. The warning is clear. Fixed identities and modes of representation are a danger- ous trap. Crane’s setting for ‘Manacled’ foregrounds the importance of art and culture to his narrative, while his insistence on the status of the theatre as ‘not of the first importance’ flags up the relation between the story and vexed questions of taste and class. Lawrence Levine has suggested that, more than any other space, by the late nineteenth century the theatre had become a clear marker of the establishment of a hierarchy of culture — a location of societal bifurcation along the lines of class (Levine, 1990: 88). More than this, Crane cleverly couches these cultural hierarchies in the language of geology in order to reflect his own creative moment, when the demand for realism in representation and what George Stocking, Mark Pittenger, and others have diagnosed as the dominant Lamarckian and Darwinian theories of evolution and heredity in Gilded Age thought were attaching increasing importance to the role of environment in the shaping of social manners and behaviours.2 As the fire rips through the theatre, Crane notes how ‘the building hummed and shook; it was like a glade which holds some bellowing cataract of the mountains. Most of the people killed on the stairs clutched their play-bills in their hands as if they had resolved to save them at all costs’ (1984: 1291). Not only can the actor not move because the manacles demanded by the audience’s taste for realism physically inhibit him from doing so, but the playgoers die fixed in attitudes precipitated by their cul- tural choices, which, since the Lamarckian bent of popular discussions of behaviour saw one’s culture as a product of one’s environment, trap the individual in an inexo- rable feedback loop. Importantly, ‘the people killed on the stairs’ clutch neither at each other for comfort, nor at the railings or doors for safety, but at ‘their play-bills’, as if identifying their cultural status was more significant than preserving their own lives. In this passage, Crane generates connections between processes of artistic consumption, geographical deep time, death, and the will to ‘resolve’ or ‘save’ in a way that seems to render the actions of the individuals historical in a manner that is reminiscent of anthropological and geological practices of observation and classification. Crane’s use of the term ‘resolve’ is particularly interesting in this context. The word exhibits a peculiar ambivalence: simultaneously connoting an individual’s will (their resolve) and, in an age of the photographic image, both the process by which a picture emerges on paper (to resolve) and the ‘resolution’, i.e. the quality of the visual rendering of that object. The word therefore ‘naturalizes’ the individual within a cultural and environmental context, collapsing the distinction between indi- vidual subjectivity and the act of viewing: the first and third person. This is picked up in the story through a repeated technique of confusing the human and non-human and the living and non-living. As the conflagration grows, the narrator remarks how 407MANACLED TO IDENTITY ‘the thunder of the fire-lions made the theatre have a palsy’ (1293). The elemental ‘fire’ is transformed into ‘lions’ and the material space of the theatre seems to have the distinctly nervous, organic response of ‘a palsy’. The narrative of the story consistently jumps between third-person descriptions of events and images and the internal, subjective thoughts of the protagonist in a way that embeds character within context, implying that forces seemingly beyond their control have begun to overwhelm the individual. As the actor succumbs to the effects of the fire, he is described as feeling ‘very cool, delightfully cool’ (1293). Like the figures on the stairs, he seems perversely to freeze to death in the heart of a raging fire — the subject of an irredeemable geographical and mental inertia. Following the American Civil War, and the challenges it posed to the older perceived certainties of antebellum nationalism, writers sought new sources of authority in which to locate and ground narratives of contemporary experience. Brad Evans has noted that this new search for authority produced a boom of interest in ‘ethnographic enquiries’ (Evans, 2005: 83) into folklore and local colour that allowed the scientific classification and survey work of groups such as the American Geological Survey and The Bureau of American Ethnology (BAE) to find popular readerships. This ethnographical survey work began at precisely the moment that the broadly sentimental narrative of national unity began to decline in the face of a developing modernity. In effect, a version of nationalism organized around collective feeling and sympathy could not survive the rise of corporate capitalism and the fracturing of the nation, what William Dean Howells called (borrowing from Shakespeare) ‘a hazard of new fortunes’. Instead of national unity, American social scientists began to cultivate an image of American national experience organized around diversity. Such an agenda became all the more complex when class came to be seen in the same terms. The contemporary trend for slum writing, reform journal- ism, and urban exposés, best exemplified by Jacob Riis’ bestselling phototext How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York ([1890] 2010) and Charles Loring Brace’s infamous The Dangerous Classes of New York (1872), contributed to a sense that class position resembled the forms of cultural and racial difference studied by the ethnologists. The sense that there were distinctive, transpar- ent differences between the classes was apparent in the title of Riis’ work, which otherized the behaviour and lifestyles of the urban poor to render them acceptable subjects for the exercise of reform. As Mark Pittenger has claimed, the pursuit of difference in Gilded Age and Progressive Era writing led to the ‘belief that workers and the poor were somehow fundamentally different — a strange breed in classless America’ (Pittenger, 1997: 28). While the romantic and transcendentalist mind of the antebellum era had largely imagined authority over culture as lying in the hands of ‘representative men’ (to borrow Emerson’s phrase), with unique aesthetic and vision- ary capacities to capture the ‘universal’ patterns of historical development and shape experience according to their own will, the turn of attention towards environmental factors in science and art made culture into a mere adaptation to context and placed new limits upon human flourishing. Culture became less something to be acquired in the pursuit of a better life for the individual and more a reflection of the situation of that individual in relation to place. One did not accumulate culture as one had in previous times. Instead, like Louis Althusser’s diagnosis of ideology, it was something 408 MICHAEL J. COLLINS always already present in the life and actions of individuals and groups (Althusser, 1984). Keith Gandal notes in The Virtues of the Vicious (1997) that the increasing atten- tion paid to environment and ‘culture’ in realist and naturalist art radically affected the capacity of narratives of class to represent the possibility of upward social mobil- ity. ‘The traditional novel of the poor was centred around a moral struggle and trans- formation’, writes Gandal, ‘usually involved a battle to resist the bad influences of the slums and the pressures of physical misery [. . .] slum characters are often merci- fully saved from participating in their surroundings’ (1997: 45). Whereas the preferred character of sentimental and romantic art had been the lower-middle-class mechanic — a figure of potential whose skills and wits afforded them the capacity to ‘over- come’ the physical constraints of their environment and generate sympathy across the lines of class and status — by the time of works like Crane’s Maggie (1893) or Frank Norris’s McTeague (1899) environment seemed to be everything. These figures now seldom triumphed over their world, but were, instead, products of it, who attempted to survive and learn to adapt to the expectations of their culture. By the 1880s, many authors and readers had begun to define authorial skill in social-scientific and bio-evolutionary terms through the capacity to realistically render the particularities of group-based differences and their adaptation to environment (Barrish, 2001; Elliott, 2002). For this practice to operate, realists had to be suffi- ciently versed in the particularities of dialect and behaviour specific to regions and locales. In Crane’s case this frequently resulted in critics associating him with the people he represented in his fiction. Within a climate that profiled people according to the environments they inhabited and the classes to which they seemed outwardly to belong, Crane was often the subject of a remarkable double standard. At once lauded for his attention to specific details and hauled before the courts for ‘slumming it’ among the drunks and prostitutes of New York’s notorious Tenderloin District, Crane could not find an easy home in the Gilded Age USA. At the same time, how- ever, Crane’s New York bohemianism became one of the main attractions for readers of his fiction. But, for the cosmopolitan Crane, simple correspondences between environment and behaviour were dangerous and depreciated the value of the author as a transmitter and mobilizer of culture across the wider Atlantic world. By remov- ing identifying features and the revealing specificities from his description of the theatre fire, such as its precise location or the specific names or ‘races’ of the indi- viduals involved, Crane in ‘Manacled’ destabilizes the presumably fixed correspond- ences between locales and cultural or classed regimes of behaviour demanded by both reformist slum literature and ethnographical surveys. Furthermore, by publishing the tale (like most of his other more overtly ‘American’ works) first in England, Crane deploys the reach of transatlantic print to put culture into dynamic circulation, cultivating a sense of Anglo-American similarity organized around universal, transat- lantic class inequalities that disrupts the political project of objectification along the lines of ‘culture’, ‘race’, ‘national identity’, and geography. ‘Manacled’ therefore reveals a cosmopolitan sensibility in Crane’s work, which, I would argue, has been inadequately captured by critical practices that have the nation as their central focal point. This is not to imply that Crane wholly abandoned particulars in favour of blandly universal forms of narrative, but rather that Crane’s forms of regionalism, realism, and specification were always filtered through a print culture which was implicitly, even intentionally, transatlantic. 409MANACLED TO IDENTITY In his own moment this cosmopolitanism was finding its outlets in the burgeoning transnational Aesthetic Arts Movement, whose publishing and artistic centres in New York, Paris, and London deployed their localities less to highlight the particular exceptionalism of their cities, and more in order to cultivate a particularly bohemian international form of urban chic. In ‘Manacled’, Crane (the ultimate bohemian author) very deliberately engaged with this movement and its international style by centring the action of his own story around the distinctly Parisian-sounding ‘Theatre Nouveau’. When the narrator talks of the near musical ‘hum of the flames’ (Crane, 1984: 1292), or offers heavily alliterative, near-purple descriptions of how ‘smoke, filled with sparks sweeping on spiral courses, rolled thickly’ (1292), Crane courts an abstraction that is clearly more reminiscent of the decadent, cosmopolitan style of artists like James McNeill Whistler, Walter Sickert, or Charles Baudelaire than it is of the robust realism of William Dean Howells, Hamlin Garland, or The Ashcan School painters. Brad Evans has noted how Maggie (1893), ‘while ostensibly about the ghetto, seems even more to be about blowing apart the contrived staging of reform journalism [. . .] with an exercise in pure aestheticism — “the girl, Maggie, blossomed in a mud pile”’ (Evans, 2005: 141). What makes Crane’s work translatable across national borders therefore is its refusal to attach to culture the qualities of an especially unique or distinctive character. The confusion of simulacra generated by a sentimental melodrama being played in a French-named theatre in an unknown city space produces the effect of aesthetic dissonance. Or rather, at the very moment that he risks objectifying a culture through textualization, he places that text in circulation by adopting a distinctly transatlantic aesthetic posture. In this way, Crane’s art objects (his stories) deliberately abandon their status as being representative of a particular locale in order to become something more like the collective inherence of a wider Atlantic civilization. In his time, Crane was criticized for his refusal to, as an article called ‘Mr Crane’s Sketches’ in the 27 April 1898 edition of Westminster Gazette put it, ‘give [. . .] us the complete novel which some day or other we all expect of him’ (in Monteiro, 2009: 169). However, I would argue that, in adopting the sketch form as a model in his novels and short stories, Crane was deliberately generating a version of literary realism that was more easily diffusible internationally and deploying a fleeting lightness of touch to serve as an antidote to the thickly descriptive tendencies of ethnographic literature. Rather than being a simple meditation on decline, therefore, ‘Manacled’ speaks more generally to Crane’s literary project of challenging the sense of stasis evoked by the turn towards environmental and cultural determinism in realist literature through a cosmopolitan, transnational narrative that highlights how individuals and cultures are seldom fixed by context but can diffuse and translate across borders. More particularly, the story is the final example of Crane’s career-long meditation upon the complex interrelationships between realism as an authorial practice that ‘valorized the firsthand observation and textual representation of group-based difference’ (Elliott, 2002: xiii) and class, identity, and competing, nascent understandings of the meaning of ‘culture’ in the transatlantic world that he had begun in his early New York sketches and Maggie. Recently, scholars such as Michael Elliott and others have begun to investigate how ‘the conflict between different concepts of culture — one that relies upon ideas of static irreducible difference and another that offers the possibility of universal cultural development — was central to the debate surrounding 410 MICHAEL J. COLLINS the nature of literature in the age of realism, as well as to the products of literature’ (Elliott, 2002: 48). Adding to this growing body of scholarship, I suggest here that Crane’s work is engaged in an important discussion about the various meanings and values attached to the term ‘culture’, which was the subject of renewed attention in European and American intellectual discourse in this period. For this purpose it is beneficial to situate Crane alongside two other key intellectuals of the late nineteenth- century transatlantic world — Matthew Arnold and Franz Boas — whose radically distinct, but I would argue, equally cosmopolitan, notions of ‘culture’ were directed towards the same implicit goal of freeing individuals from the tyranny of class and cultural stasis implied by the turn towards environmental dominance in understand- ings of human behaviour. Crane, Boas, Arnold, and American studies In late-nineteenth-century cosmopolitan cities like Crane’s New York, the ideas of the British poet and sage Matthew Arnold had considerable purchase in American and transatlantic literature. In his important collection of essays entitled Culture and Anarchy from 1869, and later during his 1884 lecturing tour of the USA, Arnold defined ‘culture’ as a universal, progressive, and acquirable ideal directed towards ‘the pursuit of perfection’ (Arnold, 2006: 52) that was, at least partly, synonymous with the values of a social order he called ‘civilization’. For Arnold, ‘culture’ was the struggle of beauty and truth against the harsh, ‘Philistine’ world of laissez-faire capitalism and utilitarian governmental oversight, a continual process of ‘growing and becoming’ (36) that developed from within the individual and extended outwards to shape the wider social world. More significantly though, ‘culture’ for Arnold was decidedly not an ‘engine of social distinction’ and did not ‘separate its holder, like a badge or title, from other people’ (33). What characterized Arnoldian ‘culture’ was a certain form of romantic discontentment with the ‘machinery’ of the status quo, including its class and social distinctions: ‘a dissatisfaction which is of the highest possible value in stemming the common tide of men’s thoughts in a wealthy and industrial community, and which saves the future [. . .] from being vulgarized’ (39). Rather than cultivating a state of rather passive conditioning by environment as Lamarckian adaptationists like the American Geological Survey and BAE argued, Arnoldian ‘civilization’ was intently acquisitive, attentive, dynamic, omnivorous, and forward-looking. For Arnold, culture was the opposite of bland liberal utilitarianism and might even serve as the basis for a new politics of inclusion. From our contemporary perspective, Arnold’s vision of cultural perfectionism and use of the terms ‘civilization’ and ‘Philistinism’ appears at best snobbish and at worst a possible vehicle for a certain Anglo-Saxon supremacist discourse. However, Arnol- dian culture also offered the late nineteenth century a useful language for critiquing one’s own national or local scene by liberating thought systems from their immediate context and situating them in a new order of meaning. Read in this way, Arnold’s romantic vision of the possibility of a universal, collective inheritance of ‘high culture’ does not necessarily conflict with another conceptualization that is often presented as its inverse: the emergent, pluralistic, relativistic, and ethnographic ‘culture concept’ of the American-German-Jewish émigré anthropologist Boas. Indeed, lauding Boas 411MANACLED TO IDENTITY for his relativism and denigrating Arnold for a racist particularism and chauvinism which he vehemently rejected have become marks of faith among the liberal-left in American literary studies. This is because, while the Arnoldian definition drew from the Anglo-American traditions of John Stuart Mill and Ralph Waldo Emerson to argue that ‘culture’ was synonymous with the progressive values of social and personal ‘cultivation’, Boas’ education in the German anti-Enlightenment thought of figures such as Herder and von Humboldt led to his stressing the particularities and pluralities of group behaviours in a manner that speaks more directly to our contem- porary interest in questions of ‘identity’ and ‘diversity’. However, in contradistinction to pre-existing narratives of human behaviour put forward by the American Geological Survey and BAE — which had used regressive Lamarckian evolutionary hierarchies to argue that cultural development occurred solely within separate racial- ized and particularized groups (a principle known as ‘independent invention’3) — Boas argued that humanity was essentially dynamic and shaped its cultures through constant borrowing. In fact, George Stocking has suggested: ‘for Boas, man was essentially rather uninventive, but his creativity was expressed in his imaginative manipulation and reinterpretation of elements given to him by his cultural tradition, or borrowed from other cultural traditions’ (Stocking, 1982: 226). In one of his most famous pieces of fieldwork among a variety of tribes on either side of the Bering Strait — The Jesup North Pacific Expedition of 1897 — Boas sought to test out existing theories of the autonomy of cultural groups against his vision of culture as shaped by processes of exchange. In the introduction to the report Boas wrote: The peculiar interest that attaches to this region is founded on the fact that here the Old World and the New come into close contact. The geographical conditions favor migration along the coast-line, and exchange of culture. Have such migrations, has such exchange of culture, taken place? This question is of great interest theoretically [. . .] it is necessary to investigate with thoroughness all possible lines and areas of contact [. . .] (Boas in Stocking, 1982: 108–09) By foregrounding the importance of ‘contact’ rather than the coherence of cultural traditions within autonomous tribal groups, Boas forced anthropology to consider the role played by global currents of political and social history over and above a romantic fixation on the defining ‘genius’ or character of a people. Reading Crane in light of these radical, late-nineteenth-century, cosmopolitan dis- courses allows us to interpret the horrifying image of stasis in ‘Manacled’ as being indicative of the author’s concern that the realist practice with which he had become associated in fiction frequently fixed class within a liberal, identitarian framework we have come to call ‘cultural particularism’, contributing to a conception of the immu- tability of differences generated by wealth disparity that ironically served to reinforce a political conservatism which he avowedly opposed. Indeed, Crane’s observation concerning people’s desire to cling to their culture unto death in ‘Manacled’ has dis- tinct resonances in our own era of American literary studies. Walter Benn Michaels has argued that the very concept of ‘cultural relativism’, of which Boas was among the earliest advocates in America (which was such an important tool for confronting the racist, nationalist, and xenophobic particularisms of his own era), has re-emerged in American studies through our collective ‘commit[ment] to [a] principle of identity essentialism’ (Michaels, 1995: 140) that is actually distinctly un-Boasian. Specifically, 412 MICHAEL J. COLLINS in valorizing ‘culture’ as a pluralistic category that helps to cultivate ‘diversity’ of thought and action within a representative democracy, without paying sufficient attention to the question of diffusion, transmission, and change that occupied Boas, Crane, and Arnold, we have replaced one version of essentialism (biological or racial determinism) with another (cultural or identitarian determinism). Michaels has suggested that embedded within contemporary theories of multiculturalism is the potentially dangerous assumption that one’s systems of thought and action are both conditioned by, and representative of, one’s culture. In this way, we have come to live out the legacy not of Boas, but of the Lamarckian BAE in our attempts to locate within texts representative values that might allow us an access point to the beliefs and behaviours of particular diversified groups which emerged historically within certain local areas. While this is important for the preservation of difference, it serves us little in developing a sound critique of class, since, unlike the other categories, class is something that we would do well to abolish. Possessing a sense of self-esteem within a distinct ‘working-class culture’, after all, is scant compensation for the reduc- tion in potential that comes with a lack of resources. The acquisition of a sense of self-worth, which Keith Gandal has highlighted as being Crane’s primary concern in his fictions of the Bowery, ultimately is a conservative process that cultivates an attitudinal barrier that exonerates a profoundly unequal status quo: social habits and behaviours of an autonomous, undiffused social group. In drawing attention to the awkward conflation of social class with habitus then, Crane can be seen to critique an exceptionalist American narrative that frequently elevates the notion of one’s irrefutable right to a ‘culture’, while obfuscating the presence of genuine, longstand- ing, transnational inequalities in shifting focus from unfair economic practices to ethnographical questions of taste and behaviour. Michaels’ observation that class as a category always has existed in uneasy relation with the contemporary valorization of cultural diversity organized around the traditional triumvirate of postmodern representation (race, gender, and sexuality) is particularly pertinent for approaching Gilded Age realism. Amy Kaplan’s The Social Construction of American Realism (1988) typifies the critical approach taken by much American literary scholarship to reading realism that I have described above. In this work, Kaplan adopted a Foucauldian perspective to argue: ‘class differences struck the realists less as a problem of social justice than as a problem of representa- tion. They were less concerned with the accuracy of portraying “the other half” than with the problem of representing an interdependent society composed of competing and seemingly mutually exclusive realities’ (Kaplan, 1988: 11). In highlighting how the realists falsified coherence through discourse in order to combat the ‘mutually exclusive’ nature of realities in the late nineteenth century and foregrounding postmodern questions of representation, Kaplan’s work has contrib- uted to an understanding of realism that aims to trace a clear genealogy from nineteenth-century writing to twentieth-century multiculturalism. Brad Evans recentl y has noted that, while the idea of ‘culture’ is treated with considerable suspicion in contemporary anthropology, ‘cultural theorists working in the humanities, and particularly Americanists, have not been [. . .] eager to engage in a similar critique’ (Evans, 2005: 17). I would argue then that the commitment to a liberal version of multiculturalism frequently has resulted in a reduction of the capacity of pre-existing American studies methodologies to accurately account for economic inequalities that 413MANACLED TO IDENTITY are the products of distinctly transnational processes of exchange and trade. As Charles Briggs has noted: ‘rethinking multiculturalism can help us unmask how the liberal claim that everyone is equally entitled to their own culture is being used to disguise the creation of inequalities within and between nations’ (2005: 78). Reading Crane’s work about the lower classes as harbingers of twentieth-century multicul- tural purviews rooted in what Briggs has described as a nationalistic, ‘liberal program for confronting racism that celebrates autonomous cultural worlds’ (76) therefore foreshortens its capacity to speak more generally for Atlantic modernity. Crane’s fiction often benefits from an approach that more accurately reflects the moment when an emergent Boasian relativism existed alongside the Arnoldian, humanist conception of ‘culture’. This can be seen in an earlier work of Crane’s — George’s Mother — in which Arnoldian perfectionism is presented as a more appropriate model for the treatment of class in fiction, because unlike a relativized understanding of social behaviours that highlighted the plurality of ‘autonomous cultural worlds’, Arnold’s vision opened up the possibility of social mobility. In other words, Crane’s novel critiques the liberal search for ‘identity’ as a politically conservative process that seeks out a static conception of selfhood rooted in one’s affiliation with the behaviours of a particular, autonomous, relativized group. George’s Mother and the culture habit George’s Mother dramatizes the effects of conflating class with a theory of culture grounded in the specifics of place by using a conflict between a boy and his mother over the former’s incipient alcoholism. When it was first published, the novel was read as a classic temperance tale of the kind that was common to late-nineteenth- century audiences where a ‘fundamentalist morality’ was juxtaposed with ‘the cynical, braggart amorality of the street’ (Murphy, 1981: 88). Reviewers of the novel often read it in this light as a didactic tale of the importance of avoiding the daemon drink. One reviewer from the Philadelphia Evening Bulletin even went so far as to suggest that the story was for children and ‘should receive a place on the fat shelves of our Sunday-school libraries’ (Monteiro, 2009: 71). Readings in our own era have tended to follow the lead of Maxwell Geismar in offering liberal, psychoanalytic interpretations of the novel as a ‘tragic-comic oedipal love relationship’ (1953: 94) centred around George’s search for individual and group identity to separate him from the control of his overbearing mother. Such readings focus upon George’s essential difference from his mother and his flawed quest for self-identity and a ‘culture’ of his own (in the partial Boasian sense I have discussed above) among the hard-drinking ‘roughs’ of New York’s Lower East Side. As George Kelcey becomes more and more dependent upon alcohol he comes to more accurately reflect what are shown to be the demands and ‘secrets’ of his ‘culture’: ‘He understood that drink was essential to joy, to the coveted position of a man of the world and of the streets. The saloons contained the mystery of the street for him’ (Crane, 1984: 258). Kelcey’s alcoholism is presented as a form of ritualized initiation into the secrets and patterns of behaviour of the Lower East Side that is peculiarly reminiscent of Lewis Henry Morgan’s study of initiations among the Iroquois League. These produce in him feelings of ‘self-esteem’ that temporarily compensate for his rejection by his ‘dream-woman’ (237) Maggie Johnson. Kelcey’s 414 MICHAEL J. COLLINS gradual development of ‘brotherly feeling’ towards his fellow drinkers is expressed by Crane in distinctly scornful ethnographic terms. As the young men drink they recite stories and sing repetitious songs, while Crane’s rendering of the effects of alcohol upon the pronunciation of their already idiosyncratic street dialect produces a radical effect of alienation on the part of the reader, as if trying to interpret another language: ‘G’l’m’n, I lovsh girl! I ain’ drunker’n yeh all are!’ (247). When another uninitiated individual enters the private drinking room at the pub where they are stationed, Crane writes: ‘The men sprang instantly to their feet. They were ready to throttle any invader of their island’ (228). In their efforts to locate for themselves a sense of attachment to a culture or set of localized behaviours, the drinkers have abandoned the Boasian dream of circulation in exchange for a dynamic of in-group and out-group. Rather than being products of a cosmopolitan city space then, Crane ironically presents the street gangs as oddly and self-consciously separated from modernity, behaving in a way that situates them outside of their Gilded Age moment and within the circumscribed space of a ‘primitive’ tribal other described by contem- porary ethnographic and reform literature. Readers who have sought to differentiate George from his mother often have missed Crane’s suggestions in the text of how ultimately similar the two characters come to be. This is because what really motivates Crane in the novel is exploring the danger of fixed identities and the abandonment of hope among the fin de siècle work- ing class. Consequently, the novel can be read as being a symbolic enactment of how new definitions of culture in the nineteenth century, which highlight the significance of environment and context in shaping experience, ultimately limited and reduced the worldviews of individuals. Crane approaches this topic by means of a discussion of the idea of ‘habit’. The author charts the course of George’s alcohol addiction along- side that of his mother, whose increasingly fervent religiosity becomes increasingly habitual. Indeed, the words ‘habit’ or ‘habitual’ appear frequently throughout the novel. Chapter VI opens thus: The little old woman habitually discouraged all outbursts of youthful vanity upon the part of her son. She feared that he would think too much of himself, and she knew that nothing could do more harm. Great self-esteem was always passive, she thought, and if he grew to regard his qualities of mind as forming a dazzling constellation, he would tranquilly sit still and nor do those wonders she expected of him. (234) In this passage, Crane introduces several key themes of the novel: ‘habit’, the passivit y of ‘self-esteem’, and the desire of human flourishing. In the novel, the establishment of a sense of identity in George produces a staggering passivity. When confronted by his mother about losing his job after frequently failing to turn up, George responds with hostility: ‘Ah, whatter yeh givin us? Is this all I git when I come home f’m, being fired? Anybody ‘ud think it was my fault. I couldn’t help it’ (266). In locating an identity for himself among the alcoholics of the Lower East Side, George has begun to passively enact the expectations of his ‘culture’. Unlike her son, George’s mother is defined not by her emotional connection to the fellow denizens of the tenement, but by her continued struggle towards transcendence and the cultivation of an aesthetic and moral beauty that is distinctly Arnoldian. When Crane first introduces the ‘little old woman’ she is in the ‘flurry of battle [. . .] through the cloud of dust or steam one could see the thin figure dealing mighty blows. Always her way seemed 415MANACLED TO IDENTITY best. Her broom was continually poised, lance-wise, at dust demons’ (219). The narrator’s tone here is richly ironic, even sarcastic. Yet, the nature of the struggle is clear and provides a counterpoint to the ‘passive’ indoctrination into a group iden- tity and ‘self-esteem’ undergone by George. For Matthew Arnold ‘cultivation’ or the pursuit of cultural achievement was an ongoing, strenuous effort of will characterized by disenchantment and disaffection rather than positive feelings of attachment or self-esteem. But what ultimately scuppers this process in George’s Mother is that the actions she associates with the improvement of her life and environment become habitual and mechanical — the very opposite of Arnold’s vision of progressive devel- opment. Crane captures this aesthetically by repeating the same scene, in which Mrs Kelcey enters George’s room and attempts to rouse him to action, several times. George’s Mother appeared at a moment when the role of habit and habituation in the shaping of cultural behaviours was a hotly-debated topic in popular and social-scientific journals. The pragmatist philosopher Charles Sanders Peirce had first introduced this idea in an essay entitled ‘How to Make Our Ideas Clear’ in the January 1878 edition of Popular Science Monthly. In this essay, and an earlier piece entitled ‘The Fixation of Belief’, Peirce argued that one’s perception of what consti- tutes truth or value is largely conditioned by the relation of a new idea or sense impression to a pre-existing conception. ‘The essence of belief’, wrote Peirce, ‘is the establishment of a habit; and different beliefs are distinguished by the different modes of action to which they give rise’ (Peirce, 1878). For Peirce, one’s ideas are fixed by their pre-existing modes of action, which are designed to appease doubts and uncer- tainties: ‘If beliefs do not differ in this respect, if they appease the same doubt by producing the same rule of action, then no mere differences in the manner of con- sciousness of them can make them different beliefs’ (1878). Similar to the Lamarckian theory of culture’s emphasis on the shaping role of environment, Peircean pragmatism turned all concepts into the search for habits or fixed modes of being that allowed us to ‘appease the irritation of doubt’. For Crane, however, such an ‘appeasement of doubt’ signalled the potential triumph of one’s context over individual will. In its place, the author advocates a more dynamic, fluid, and aesthetic approach to life that abandons the search for a fixed identity in order to pursue a cosmopolitan search for cultural improvement. Crane’s cosmopolitan radicalism then is of a strange breed. At once conservative in its insistence upon the importance of cultural development and human flourishing, and progressive in its refusal of ethno-racial and socioeconomic particularities, Crane brought a strong vein of internationalism and class critique to an American scene that often seemed to possess an ideological blindness to the dangers of the liberal search for identity. In order to challenge the ethics of working-class representation, Crane’s decision to resist cultural and environmental particularism ran the risk of rendering the poor more, not less, aesthetic. Through this flattening of representation, Crane destabilized the fixed correspondences demanded by theories of biological and cultural heredity that pushed to the forefront the role of environment in the shaping of behaviour. What characterizes Crane’s heroes therefore is not their now-clichéd search for identity or a culture of their own but the dangers implicit in the fact that they might actually find what they are looking for. The playgoers in ‘Manacled’ worship their cultural possessions as George’s alcoholism gives him a sense of 416 MICHAEL J. COLLINS completeness and inclusion, but both ultimately lead to further, greate r suffering. Crane’s fictions therefore can be seen to provide an antidote to a version of Ameri- canist literary canon-formation centred around identitarian notions of ‘culture’ and ‘diversity’ and are an important locus for the development of a more transnational, less nationally specific, literary criticism. Acknowledgements I would like to thank the Leverhulme Trust, the US-UK Fulbright Commission, and the US State Department for the generous funding that allowed me to complete this article. Notes 1 Richard Bentley also had a history of publishing US writers. The first English publication of Edgar Allan Poe’s ‘Fall of the House of Usher’ was in Bentley’s Miscellany. 2 George Stocking has argued that, more than Darwinism, by some way the most dominant theory of evolution, heredity, and adaptation in the trans- atlantic fin de siècle was a version derived from the work of the French naturalist, Jean-Baptiste Lamarck. Rather than locating evolutionary change and development within the remarkably longue durée of geographical ‘deep time’, Lamarckianism stressed how more immediate social and environ- mental factors could be registered by the organism and passed on within the space of a single genera- tion. Stocking argues: ‘The Lamarckianism of the fin de siècle American social science also had source s within the tradition of nineteenth century social thought itself. A number of its major figures — among them Auguste Comte, Lewis Henry Morgan, and Herbert Spencer — were either implicitly or avowedly believers in the hereditability of acquired characteristics’ (Stocking, 1982: 240). In Crane’s own moment the dominance in social scientific and literary circles of Herbert Spencer (a scion of ideas of Lamarckian heredity) ensured the continued presence of Lamarckianism in the late-nineteenth- century scene long after the academic acceptance of Darwinian evolution. 3 Boas’ critique of ‘independent invention’ developed out of a public battle the young anthropologist had in 1887 with Otis Mason, the then-curator of exhib- its at the Museum of Natural History in New York. In response to the desire to reorganize the ethno- logical exhibits at the museum, Mason and Boas disagreed over the reasons why different peoples, divided by geography, frequently developed similar kinds of tools to deal with everyday life. Mason argued that all human societies develop along the same pattern outlined by Lewis Henry Morgan in his work Ancient Society (1877) from ‘savagery’ to ‘barbarism’ to ‘civilization’ and that each period was marked by the development of specific tools, starting with rudimentary hammers through to bows and arrows and finally machines. By contrast, Boas saw human civilization as defined by the constant flow of ideas between peoples (a process of continual borrowing) that was an effect of a long human history of trade and empire. Unlike Mason, Boas favoured dioramas and exhibits that showed how the tools were situated in their specific con- texts, i.e. he favoured use value over an evolution- ary theory of progressive development; see Stocking, 1989. Bibliography Althusser, Louis. 1984. Essays on Ideology. London: Verso. Arnold, Matthew. 2006. Culture and Anarchy. Oxford and London: Oxford University Press. Barrish, Phillip. 2001. American Literary Realism, Critical Theory, and Intellectual Taste, 1880–1995. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Brace, Charles Loring. 1872. The Dangerous Classes of New York and Twenty Years’ Work among Them. New York: Wynkoop and Hallenbeck. Briggs, Charles L. 2005. Genealogies of Race and Culture and the Failure of Vernacular Cosmopolitanisms: Rereading Franz Boas and W.E.B. Du Bois, Public Culture, 17(1): 75–100. 417MANACLED TO IDENTITY Crane, Stephen. 1984. Prose and Poetry. New York: Library of America. Elliott, Michael A. 2002. The Culture Concept: Writing and Difference in the Age of Realism. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Evans, Brad. 2005. Before Cultures: The Ethnographic Imagination in American Literature, 1865–1920. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Gandal, Keith. 1997. The Virtues of the Vicious: Joseph Riis, Stephen Crane and the Spectacle of the Slum. New York and London: Oxford University Press. Geismar, Maxwell. 1953. Rebels and Ancestors: The American Novel, 1890–1915. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Howells, William Dean. 2002. A Hazard of New Fortunes. New York: Random House, Inc. Kaplan, Amy. 1988. The Social Construction of American Realism. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Levine, Lawrence W. 1990. Highbrow/Lowbrow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press. Michaels, Walter Benn. 1995. Our America: Nativism, Modernism and Pluralism. Durham, NC and London: Duke University Press. Monteiro, George, ed. 2009. Stephen Crane: The Contemporary Reviews. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Morgan, Lewis H. 1877. Ancient Society; or, Researches in the Lines of Human Progress from Savagery to Barbarism to Civilization. New York: Holt and Company. Murphy, Brenda. 1981. A Woman with Weapons: The Victor in Stephen Crane’s George’s Mother. Modern Language Studies, 11(2): 88–93. Peirce, Charles Sanders. 1878. How to Make Our Ideas Clear. Popular Science Monthly, 12 January. Available at: <http://www.peirce.org/writings/p119.html> (accessed July 25, 2013). Pittenger, Mark. 1997. A World of Difference: Constructing the Underclass in Progressive America. American Quarterly, 49(3): 26–65. Riis, Jacob A. [1890] 2010. How the Other Half Lives: Studies Among the Tenements of New York. Cambridge, MA and London: Belknap Press. Stocking, George W. 1982. Race, Culture and Evolution: Essays in the History of Anthropology. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press. Stocking, George W. 1989. A Franz Boas Reader: The Shaping of American Anthropology, 1883–1911. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Notes on contributor Michael J. Collins is a lecturer in American literature at the University of Kent. He also serves on the Executive Committee of the British Association for American Studies. Correspondence to: Dr Michael Collins, School of English, Rutherford College, University of Kent, Canterbury CT2 7NX, UK. Email: m.j.collins@kent.ac.uk 
work_b635mqmmsjhjzpmk7dxsolp6jm	----	Available online at http://jgu.garmian.edu.krd Journal of University of Garmian https://doi.org/10.24271/garmian.1029 A Comparative Study of Soul’s Alienation in Poe's “The Raven” and Bekes’s “The Cemetery of Lanterns” Nasrin O. Darwish . Salar Mahmud M. Salih English Department, College of Education, University of Garmian Abstract This study, which compares two poems written in two different languages, focuses on the specific condition of soul‟s alienation of two selected poets in both American and Kurdish literatures; Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) and Sherko Bekas (1940-2013), in spite of their different religions and ages, their souls‟ alienation comes as a result of religious, environmental, and personal conditions. The study adapts the American model for comparative literature. It ends up with a succinct conclusion that d isplays distinct means to draw the condition of soul‟s alienation that comes as a result of losing faith in God and the negligence of the religious side of life, followed by the list of works cited. Article Info Received: January , 2019 Revised:February ,2019 Accep ted:Ap ril,2019 s Keywords Soul‟s Alienation, Poe, “The Raven”, Bekas ,“The Cemetery of Lanterns”, Comp arative Study Corresponding Author Nasrin.othman@garmian.edu.krd Introduction One can demonstrate the nature of the American writer, Poe's soul alienation through examining his perspective of Transcendentalism which is a philosophical and literary school that views human being as a victim, entrapped and inflicted by the social evils. For the transcendentalists man is inherently good and capable of performing goodness if he is not plighted with environmental and social disease. The movement emphasizes that " the essential nature of human being is good and that, left in a state of nature, human beings would seek the good, society is to blame for the corruption that mankind endures" (Yaganeh 2-3). In most of his works, Poe repudiates such an idea, especially in his poem “The Raven” mainly through the setting. In this work the narrator or "I" speaker is isolated from his surrounding but still his soul is suffering from alienation that makes him hallucinate and become insane. It is evident that for such treatment of his subject matter that the transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson criticizes “The Raven” saying,” I see nothing in it” (Weaver 2). Poe‟s poetry and fiction display mailto:Nasrin.othman@garmian.edu.krd Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 511 the characteristics of the modern age and its literature, and as Allen Tate says he is “the transitional figure in modern literature because he discovered our great subject, the disintegration of personality" (Regan 174). For Sherko Bekas, the tyranny and aggression that happened to his country (Kurdistan) and nation (Kurds) in the seventies and eighties of the twentieth century, affects him deeply. He believes that even God does not save his nation, and this makes him lose faith in God and criticize Him for not helping them. As a result, he demonstrates his incredulity in God and lives in an instable situation in Sweden far from his country and isolated from people as he feels a kind of inner alienation (Ahmad 64) which is elucidated plainly in his selected poem for this study. Ihab Hassan (1925 – 2015) criticizes the comparative literary research, which relies on the principle of „influence‟ and „being influenced‟ as suggested by the French school of comparison. He prefers the „Parallel Theory of Comparison‟ which postulates that there are close relationships between literatures of different nations without paying attention to any mutual influence or direct relation between them. This is due to the fact that the human mind has common ways of responding to experiences, and two authors may have the same cast of minds in different situations or due to different factors (28). So, the two poets, who are from two different nations, are suffering from the same soul‟s alienation due to their distance from Divinity that causes their inner devastation. The Essence and Analysis of the Selected Poems “The Raven” is a narrative poem that makes use of folk, mythological, religious, and classical references. Poe states that “The Raven” is meant to symbolize "Mournful and never-ending affection on a pallid white bust” (Holt 158) and this “was to create visual contrast against the dark black bird" (Ibid.). It dates from 1844, and presents a speaker who is physically exhausted under obvious emotional and spiritual strain with an odd prophecy of a man who has 'lost' his love; the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore. Far from being a tale of 'horror', a view reinforced by various cinematic representations of the work of Poe, it is a poem of haunting lyric beauty; a poetic portrait of a man in the depths of despair. (Ibid 159). Bekas started writing his poem "The Cemetery of Lanterns" after the catastrophe of Anfal, which brought a great damage to the soul of the Kurds as the Ba'ath regime buried one hundred and eighty-two thousand Kurds alive. So, the poet loses his confidence in the international power to prohibit Saddam Hussein from annihilating Kurds any more, he accuses God for remaining silent about this, and thus, he becomes deeply incredulous in his spiritual beliefs specifically the religious ones. Bekas portrays his alienated state of soul; he depicts the real scenes of the genocidal act that happened to the Kurds in 1988. All that has led him to lose faith in God and hence to live in a state of soul‟s alienation and this condition is clearly seen in his collection of poems (Mustafa 154). As a word 'alienate' simply means "to make sb feel that they do not belong in a particular group" (Oxford 29). This is when someone is alienated, maybe for a short time; however, when the case is related to the soul‟s alienation, it means that it is deeper and more complicated and the role of time is subordinated. Alienation occurs in various ways or forms, such as the alienation from the society or from the natural surroundings or from God. The third form which is the estrangement of one's self (soul) from God due to losing trust in Him, is the most effective one because “the estrangement from God alienated man from his fellow human beings also. A sense remains with modern man, alienation from his true self, alienation from his fellows, alienation from his world” (Joseph 2 ). So, the individual will not be true to the God within the self or a human being in relationship Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 512 with others and with his surroundings. In Christian theology alienation is initially occurred through original sin and the fall of human being (Ibid. 1). Thus, soul‟s alienation is a psychological state with a religious root in which place, time, and people are subordinated. The soul feels lonely even if it is surrounded by people because the human being has lost his relation to God and hence despair creeps to his soul and occupies it. Further, Colin Wilson defines the soul‟s alienation as a sense of dislocation and non-relation or of being at odds with society due to different reasons (7), among them is the religious one. To start with the most significant point concerning Poe's poem, its title, one can take it as a clue. The name raven, in most of the cultures, stands for 'ill omens'. It may symbolize death or hardship. Poe's choice of this title is not arbitrary since he declares that every single detail in the poem is employed to suit the three principles of a good writing, length, unity of effect, and method (Guerin 77). Hence the raven embodies the poet‟s fears and belief that no remedy is on the way to him, which comes from his absurdist view of life and once again because he has lost faith in Divinity. At the beginning of the poem, Poe describes and establishes the melancholic atmosphere of the speaker's life. He uses words like „bleak‟, „hopeless‟, and „dreary‟ to give the impression that his soul is suffering. He is living alone, isolated from others (Stern 617): Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore_ While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door, " 'T is some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door__ Only this and nothing more." (Lines 1-6) Bekas suffered from the same soul pain when he felt the hopelessness of his nation and their suffering because of that tyranny, he describes his inner anguish at the beginning through the title of the poem (The Cemetery of Lanterns) which shows the burying of lights as a sign of innocent people who were taken to an unknown place to be their graves while their eyes still could see the sun. This is the early picture of surveying that tragedy alongside with his unstable feeling in each line of the collection referring to words like „anxious, mirage, autumn, ashes‟, and „lost‟. He states (Latif 72): I am walking anxiously step by step Alongside with the mirage Putting hands in hands with Autumn Travelling to a city of ashes Like uneasy bird seeking its lost fledgling (P. 4-5: Lines 4-9) The poet is depressed and his soul is tortured because of the horrifying mass murder of his nation. He is walking with the illusion and puts his hand in the hands of autumn and like a restless bird, he flies to a city full of death and sorrow. It is that pain that makes the poet lose faith in God as a Saver of his nation. In “The Raven”, the source of the tapping is the raven that sits on a bust of Pallas "the Greek goddess of wisdom and the life of learning"(Adams 4), in which Poe says (Sterns 620): Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter In their stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore. Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 513 Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door__ Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door__ Perched, and sat, and nothing more, (Lines 37-42) Hence what the raven says „Quoth the Raven, nevermore‟, “stands for tragedy, death, and the sound of booming gong"(Adams 4). The wisdom that comes from the bird, which reflects Poe's mind, is about the futility of life because the soul is separated from its Creator and is unable to feel and have faith in His existence. According to the poet's essay 'philosophy of composition' the raven's only response is the truth and the poet's changing mood shows that the soul‟s alienation and despair are the dominant feelings since the raven "is still sitting on the bust at the end of the poem, and he now has the aspect of a demon. The poet says his soul will never escape the shadow of the raven” (Rogers 68): "prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! __ Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted__ On this home by Horror haunted_ tell me truly, I implore__ Is there__ is there balm in Gilead? __tell me __tell me, I implore!" Quote the Raven "Nevermore." (Lines 85-91) In the above stanza the speaker asks the raven whether there is an afterlife or not (Fling 3). It is a direct and clear evidence that the speaker does not have any spiritual meditation upon the religious matters, i.e., he is living in a state of spiritual aridity. The mere question repudiates any belief in the existence of a heavenly cure which means the role of religion is omitted because to believe in God is to believe in His power to cure and solve and to believe in His paradise and hell and hence in the afterlife. Repeatedly, Poe's inner thought and conscience, embodied by the raven on a bust of wisdom, utters the remarkable answer; no cure, no afterlife. He loses his faith in religion. The same condition might be observed in Bekas‟s poem but with different reason. He expresses his extreme anger and refuses obeying and listening to God and his Prophet, so the poet rejects his belief in God and clarifies his unstable soul condition that is reflected in his rebellious words which do not suit his culture and religious principles. He is completely protesting when he says (Latif 73): If Almighty God and Prophet avoid seeing me! I neither see Him nor listen to Him When Kurdish virgin girls were in the southern desert Waiting for salvation from Him Nor God neither a hoping light from Him did glide (P. 129, lines 3-8). On the other hand, Poe asks the raven if there is a cure for his melancholy and an end for the suffering of his heart because of the loss of Lenore; here Lenore stands for the loss of the glim of the spiritual enlightenment and purity in addition to some other meanings. She (Leonor) “is not anything like a real person. She's an ideal, a symbol of what the narrator thinks perfect, unspoiled, untouchable women ought to be. To this grief--stricken man, she stops being human and becomes a heavenly saint” (Davison 91). Poe does not give details about Lenore and this ambiguity makes her a symbol; one of the likely symbols that she stands for is the hope for a Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 514 better life and an ideal world; however, the hope is answered with 'nevermore' and thus the soul continues to live in its isolation: Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December; And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow;__vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow__sorrow for the lost Lenore_ For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore__ Nameless here for evermore. (Lines 7-12) Bekas portrays a female character as Poe's Lenore named Aunt Agee whom he regards as a symbol for the aged, innocent, and helpless women among those in the southern deserts that would be buried alive. The poet addresses Aunt Agee asking her about what she has brought with herself for this journey except some human skin, hair, and old garments as a sign for the calamitous situation. He teasingly asks her about what they have brought as gifts for God after their burying, why crowns of roses have not been brought to God as gratitude to His silence toward the aggression that the Kurds faced. This shows the unsteady phase of the poet who throws the whole responsibility upon Divine power, and indirectly declares his spiritual alienation. He states: Have you brought the medicine for Aunt Agee So, what have you fetched for this journey! Only human skin, hair, and old garments You shouldn't attend doomsday with empty hands! You ought to take crowns of roses to God ! And a rainy cloud to the prophet of deserts ! (P.186, lines 2-8) At the end of Poe‟s poem, the narrator's soul gets cast upon the floor and the shadow of the raven covers his vulnerable soul, which represents Poe's own frustration. The poet's soul "will never be free of the shadowy grip that depression has on his soul" (Fling 3). The last scene is that of a triumphant demon, the raven, horrifying the narrator more and more, paralyzing him, keeping him in an oblivion state and what he gets from it, is only 'nevermore': And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted__nevermore! (Lines 104-110) The question of the narrator expresses the poet's chaotic mind due to his spiritual alienation. The poet has lost his identity as a mindful and conscious man, as Davison states: Between the jocular first question; "Tell me what they lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore," and the last question, the poetic imagination had caught fire and expressed the terror of loss of self and even of non-being. But the factual world remain- ed fact and chaos; and the shaping spirit had nothing more to do. (91-92) Poe's writings are not merely stories that bring horror of fantasy, his literature is a serious method to show the underlying messages that he wants to deliver through writing. William Carlos William writes about Poe saying that his Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 515 importance lies in the fact that he gives “the sense for the first time in America, that literature is serious, not a matter of courtesy but of truth" (qtd.in Jeffares 109). Hence when he cares about his poetic images in “The Raven”, he deliberately wants to deliver through symbols and his poetic devices, the trouble of his narrator's soul. Bekas feels extreme disappointment at the end of his poem, he asks God to inform him concerning the destiny of the victims. So, he starts making extra hallucinations including disbelieving in the existence of God when he deeply refutes His power; this is due to the poet's realization that no hope for his nation or their return from death, can be gained. He ends his poem calling the unhearing sounds to reply, and he even demands death and personifies it to rescue them from that torture. He draws metaphorical scenes to depict the state of his mind that he does not know whom he begs for the salvation of his people, he asks stones, desert, plants, anything to create a slight hope. He elucidates their condition through making ironical pictures showing the loneliness of his people and his both personal yielding and soul restlessness by saying: They were not ice, but melting Not fire but burning, not autumn but falling Not glasses but breaking, Oh, they were strangers in the desert In which moon dies at night and the snow In mountains is not aware! (P. 192, lines 3-9) So, a kind of oddness and soul disorder happens to the poet as he yields wholly to the fatal power and finds no clues to rescue them (his nation). He wonders why God remains silent till the end, why no one knows about them, and he ends up his poem with calling them out to reply but he gets no response; it is the same „nevermore‟. Conclusion 1- Soul‟s alienation, that causes the disintegration of personality, is not limited by time, age, place, etc. It is the plight of the inner world of the individuals which is mainly resulted from losing faith in God and the negligence of the religious side of one‟s life for different reasons like the two cases of Poe and Bekas. 2- Soul‟s alienation creates futility of efforts to improve the human condition, paralyzes the energy to escape out of the grave of loneliness. Both poets reflect hopelessness alike in spite of their different cultures, religion, and tradition. 3- Both of them create pure female symbols (Leonor, Aunt Agee) for showing the innocence and purity which have gone without return so that they might show their despair. 4- Soul‟s alienation leads to atheism as a result of a specific state of mind in a certain moment that occurs during a disastrous event, social isolation, and human being's behavior within his surroundings. 5- Poetry, for both poets, is the way to express their anger toward the Divine Power and their refusal to believe in His will that causes their soul or inner alienation. References 1. Adams, Elizabeth. Edgar Allen Poe. USA, West Hall: West Hall High School, Eleventh Grade. 1996. Print. 2. Ahmad, Sarwar. Editions of Sherko Bekas Poetry. Sulaimanyah, Iraq. 1999. Print 3. Bekas, Sherko. Cemetery of Lamps. Kurdistan Region, Second Edition. 2004. Print. 4. Davison, Edward H. Poe, A Critical Study. Cambridge, Harvard University Press. 1957. Print. Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 Page 516 5. Fling, Jake. The Raven, A Psycho-Literary Analysis. USA, Penn State University. 2013. Print. 6. Guerin, W. Labor, E. Morgan, L. A Handbook of Critical Approaches to Literature. New York, Oxford University Press. 2005. Print. 7. Hassan, Ihab. The Problem of Influence in Literary History. USA: American Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism. 1955. Print. 8. Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Adventures in American Literature. USA, Staff Credits. 1996. Print. 9. Jeffares, Norman. Edgar Allan Poe. Edinburgh, Darlen Press. 1965. Print. 10. Joseph, Sajo. Spiritual Estrangement and Reconciliation: Man, with God. India. 2015.Web. 11. Latif, Hussein. Tragedy in Kurdish literature, Ahmadi Khani and Sherko Bekas. An essay in Raman, Erbil. 2016.Print. 12. Mustafa, M. Salih. The Role of Poetry to Literary Masterpiece of Anfal in Cemetery of Lamps. Erbil, 2009. Print. 13. Oxford Advanced Learner's Dictionary. Oxford. Oxford University Press. 2000. Print. 14. Regan, Robert. Poe, A Collection of Critical Essays. New Jersey, Prentice Hall, Inc. 1967. Print. 15. Rogers, David. Tales and Poetry of Edgar Allan Poe. New York, Monarch Press. 1965. Print. 16. Stern, Philip V.D. Edgar Allan Poe. Tennessee, Kingsport Press. 1973. Print. 17. Yeganeh, Farah. Literary Schools. Tehran, Rahnama Publication. 2002. Print. 18. Weaver, Samantha. Strange but True: Edgar Allen Poe and "The Raven" Reception. Naples News. 2016. Print. 19. Wilson, Colin. The Outsider. UK, 195 Journal of the University of Garmian 6 (1), 2019 
work_b6mriwspvjafpolyfngs7u7giy	----	1 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity Jason Russell Abstract The new narcissist is haunted not by guilt but by anxiety. He seeks not to inflict his own certainties on others but to find a meaning in life. Liberated from the superstitions of the past, he doubts even the reality of his own existence. Superficially relaxed and tolerant, he finds little use for dogmas of racial and ethnic purity but at the same time forfeits the security of group loyalties and regards everyone as a rival for the favors conferred by a paternalistic state. His sexual attitudes are permissive rather than puritanical, even though his emancipation from ancient taboos brings him no sexual peace. Fiercely competitive in his demand for approval and acclaim, he distrusts competition because he associates it unconsciously with an unbridled urge to destroy. Hence he repudiates the competitive ideologies that flourished at an earlier stage of capitalist development and distrusts even their limited expression in sports and games. He extols cooperation and teamwork while harboring deeply antisocial impulses. He praises respect for rules and regulations in the secret belief that they do not apply to himself. Acquisitive in the sense that his cravings have no limits, he does not accumulate goods and provisions against the future, in the manner of the acquisitive individualist of nineteenth-century political economy, but demands immediate gratification and lives in a state of restless, perpetually unsatisfied desire. Keyword: The Culture of Narcissism; Language; Identity; Social Science; Introduction "A characteristic of our times is the predominance, even in groups traditionally selective, of the mass and the vulgar. Thus, in intellectual life, which of its essence requires and presupposes qualification, one can note the progressive triumph of the pseudo-intellectual, unqualified, unqualifiable..." (Wildavsky, 2018). Can Science be passionate? This question seems to sum up the life of Christopher Lasch, erstwhile a historian of culture later transmogrified into 2 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity an ersatz prophet of doom and consolation, a latter day Jeremiah. Judging by his (prolific and eloquent) output, the answer is a resounding no. There is no single Lasch. This chronicler of culture, did so mainly by chronicling his inner turmoil, conflicting ideas and ideologies, emotional upheavals, and intellectual vicissitudes. In this sense, of (courageous) self-documentation, Mr. Lasch epitomized Narcissism, was the quintessential Narcissist, the better positioned to criticize the phenomenon. Some "scientific" disciplines (e.g., the history of culture and History in general) are closer to art than to the rigorous (a.k.a. "exact" or "natural" or "physical" sciences). Lasch borrowed heavily from other, more established branches of knowledge without paying tribute to the original, strict meaning of concepts and terms. Such was the use that he made of "Narcissism". "Narcissism" is a relatively well-defined psychological term. I expound upon it elsewhere ("Malignant self Love - Narcissism Re-Visited"). The Narcissistic Personality Disorder - the acute form of pathological Narcissism - is the name given to a group of 9 symptoms (see: DSM-4). They include: a grandiose Self (illusions of grandeur coupled with an inflated, unrealistic sense of the Self), inability to empathize with the Other, the tendency to exploit and manipulate others, idealization of other people (in cycles of idealization and devaluation), rage attacks and so on. Narcissism, therefore, has a clear clinical definition, etiology and prognosis. The use that Lasch makes of this word has nothing to do with its usage in psychopathology. True, Lasch did his best to sound "medicinal". He spoke of "(national) malaise" and accused the American society of lack of self-awareness. But choice of words does not a coherence make. Findings and Discussion Analytic Summary of Kimball Lasch was a member, by conviction, of an imaginary "Pure Left". This turned out to be a code for an odd mixture of Marxism, religious fundamentalism, populism, Freudian analysis, conservatism and any other -ism that Lasch happened to come across. Intellectual consistency was not Lasch's strong point, but this is excusable, even commendable in the search for Truth. What is not excusable is the passion and conviction with which Lasch imbued the advocacy of each of these consecutive and mutually exclusive ideas. 3 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity "The Culture of Narcissism - American Life in an Age of Diminishing Expectations" was published in the last year of the unhappy presidency of Jimmy Carter (1979). The latter endorsed the book publicly (in his famous "national malaise" speech). The main thesis of the book is that the Americans have created a self-absorbed (though not self aware), greedy and frivolous society which depended on consumerism, demographic studies, opinion polls and Government to know and to define itself. What is the solution? Lasch proposed a "return to basics": self-reliance, the family, nature, the community, and the Protestant work ethic. To those who adhere, he promised an elimination of their feelings of alienation and despair. The apparent radicalism (the pursuit of social justice and equality) was only that: apparent. The New Left was morally self-indulgent. In an Orwellian manner, liberation became tyranny and transcendence - irresponsibility. The "democratization" of education: "...has neither improved popular understanding of modern society, raised the quality of popular culture, nor reduced the gap between wealth and poverty, which remains as wide as ever. On the other hand, it has contributed to the decline of critical thought and the erosion of intellectual standards, forcing us to consider the possibility that mass education, as conservatives have argued all along, is intrinsically incompatible with the maintenance of educational standards". Lasch derided capitalism, consumerism and corporate America as much as he loathed the mass media, the government and even the welfare system (intended to deprive its clients of their moral responsibility and indoctrinate them as victims of social circumstance). These always remained the villains. But to this - classically leftist - list he added the New Left. He bundled the two viable alternatives in American life and discarded them both. Anyhow, capitalism's days were numbered, a contradictory system as it was, resting on "imperialism, racism, elitism, and inhuman acts of technological destruction". What was left except God and the Family? Lasch was deeply anti-capitalist. He rounded up the usual suspects with the prime suspect being multinationals. To him, it wasn't only a question of exploitation of the working masses. Capitalism acted as acid on the social and moral fabrics and made them disintegrate. Lasch adopted, at times, a theological perception of capitalism as an evil, demonic entity. Zeal usually leads to inconsistency of argumentation: Lasch claimed, for instance, that capitalism negated 4 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity social and moral traditions while pandering to the lowest common denominator. There is a contradiction here: social mores and traditions are, in many cases, THE lowest common denominator. Lasch displayed a total lack of understanding of market mechanisms and the history of markets. True, markets start out as mass-oriented and entrepreneurs tend to mass- produce to cater to the needs of the newfound consumers. However, as markets evolve - they fragment. Individual nuances of tastes and preferences tend to transform the mature market from a cohesive, homogenous entity - to a loose coalition of niches. Computer aided design and production, targeted advertising, custom made products, personal services - are all the outcomes of the maturation of markets. It is where capitalism is absent that uniform mass production of goods of shoddy quality takes over. This may have been Lasch's biggest fault: that he persistently and wrong-headedly ignored reality when it did not serve his pet theorizing. He made up his mind and did not wish to be confused by the facts. The facts are that all the alternatives to the known four models of capitalism (the Anglo-Saxon, the European, the Japanese and the Chinese) have failed miserably and have led to the very consequences that Lasch warned against... in capitalism. It is in the countries of the former Soviet Bloc, that social solidarity has evaporated, that traditions were trampled upon, that religion was brutally suppressed, that pandering to the lowest common denominator was official policy, that poverty - material, intellectual and spiritual - became all pervasive, that people lost all self reliance and communities disintegrated. There is nothing to excuse Lasch: the Wall fell in 1989. An inexpensive trip would have confronted him with the results of the alternatives to capitalism. That he failed to acknowledge his life-long misconceptions and compile the Lasch errata cum mea culpa is the sign of deep- seated intellectual dishonesty. The man was not interested in the truth. In many respects, he was a propagandist. Worse, he combined an amateurish understanding of the Economic Sciences with the fervor of a fundamentalist preacher to produce an absolutely non-scientific discourse. Let us analyze what he regarded as the basic weakness of capitalism (in "The True and Only Heaven", 1991): its need to increase capacity and production ad infinitum in order to sustain itself. Such a feature would have been destructive if capitalism were to operate in a closed system. The finiteness of the economic sphere would have brought capitalism to ruin. But the world is NOT a closed economic system. 80,000,000 new consumers are added 5 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity annually, markets globalize, trade barriers are falling, international trade is growing three times faster than the world's GDP and still accounts for less than 15% of it, not to mention space exploration which is at its inception. The horizon is, for all practical purposes, unlimited. The economic system is, therefore, open. Capitalism will never be defeated because it has an infinite number of consumers and markets to colonize. That is not to say that capitalism will not have its crises, even crises of over-capacity. But such crises are a part of the business cycle not of the underlying market mechanism. They are adjustment pains, the noises of growing up - not the last gasps of dying. To claim otherwise is either to deceive or to be spectacularly ignorant not only of economic fundamentals but of what is happening in the world. It is as intellectually rigorous as the "New Paradigm" which says, in effect, that the business cycle and inflation are both dead and buried. Lasch's argument: capitalism must forever expand if it is to exist (debatable) - hence the idea of "progress", an ideological corollary of the drive to expand - progress transforms people into insatiable consumers (apparently, a term of abuse). But this is to ignore the fact that people create economic doctrines (and reality, according to Marx) - not the reverse. In other words, the consumers created capitalism to help them maximize their consumption. History is littered with the remains of economic theories, which did not match the psychological makeup of the human race. There is Marxism, for instance. The best theorized, most intellectually rich and well-substantiated theory must be put to the cruel test of public opinion and of the real conditions of existence. Barbarous amounts of force and coercion need to be applied to keep people functioning under contra-human-nature ideologies such as communism. A horde of what Althusser calls Ideological State Apparatuses must be put to work to preserve the dominion of a religion, ideology, or intellectual theory which do not amply respond to the needs of the individuals that comprise society. The Socialist (more so the Marxist and the malignant version, the Communist) prescriptions were eradicated because they did not correspond to the OBJECTIVE conditions of the world. They were hermetically detached, and existed only in their mythical, contradiction-free realm (to borrow again from Althusser). Lasch commits the double intellectual crime of disposing of the messenger AND ignoring the message: people are consumers and there is nothing we can do about it but try to present to them as wide an array as possible of goods and services. High brow and low brow have their 6 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity place in capitalism because of the preservation of the principle of choice, which Lasch abhors. He presents a false predicament: he who elects progress elects meaninglessness and hopelessness. Is it better - asks Lasch sanctimoniously - to consume and live in these psychological conditions of misery and emptiness? The answer is self evident, according to him. Lasch patronizingly prefers the working class undertones commonly found in the petite bourgeois: "its moral realism, its understanding that everything has its price, its respect for limits, its skepticism about progress... sense of unlimited power conferred by science - the intoxicating prospect of man's conquest of the natural world". The limits that Lasch is talking about are metaphysical, theological. Man's rebellion against God is in question. This, in Lasch's view, is a punishable offence. Both capitalism and science are pushing the limits, infused with the kind of hubris which the mythological Gods always chose to penalize (remember Prometheus?). What more can be said about a man that postulated that "the secret of happiness lies in renouncing the right to be happy". Some matters are better left to psychiatrists than to philosophers. There is megalomania, too: Lasch cannot grasp how could people continue to attach importance to money and other worldly goods and pursuits after his seminal works were published, denouncing materialism for what it was - a hollow illusion? The conclusion: people are ill informed, egotistical, stupid (because they succumb to the lure of consumerism offered to them by politicians and corporations). America is in an "age of diminishing expectations" (Lasch's). Happy people are either weak or hypocritical. Lasch envisioned a communitarian society, one where men are self made and the State is gradually made redundant. This is a worthy vision and a vision worthy of some other era. Lasch never woke up to the realities of the late 20th century: mass populations concentrated in sprawling metropolitan areas, market failures in the provision of public goods, the gigantic tasks of introducing literacy and good health to vast swathes of the planet, an ever increasing demand for evermore goods and services. Small, self-help communities are not efficient enough to survive - though the ethical aspect is praiseworthy: "Democracy works best when men and women do things for themselves, with the help of their friends and neighbors, instead of depending on the state." - "A misplaced compassion degrades both the victims, who are reduced to objects of pity, and their would-be benefactors, who find it easier to pity their fellow citizens than to hold them up to impersonal standards, 7 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity attainment of which would entitle them to respect. Unfortunately, such statements do not tell the whole." No wonder that Lasch has been compared to Mathew Arnold who wrote: "(culture) does not try to teach down to the level of inferior classes; ...It seeks to do away with classes; to make the best that has been thought and known in the world current everywhere... the men of culture are the true apostles of equality. The great men of culture are those who have had a passion for diffusing, for making prevail, for carrying from one end of society to the other, the best knowledge, the best ideas of their time." Culture and Anarchy - a Quite Elitist View Unfortunately, Lasch, most of the time, was no more original or observant than the average columnist: "The mounting evidence of widespread inefficiency and corruption, the decline of American productivity, the pursuit of speculative profits at the expense of manufacturing, the deterioration of our country's material infrastructure, the squalid conditions in our crime-rid- den cities, the alarming and disgraceful growth of poverty, and the widening disparity between poverty and wealth ... growing contempt for manual labor... growing gulf between wealth and poverty... the growing insularity of the elites... growing impatience with the constraints imposed by long-term responsibilities and commitments." Paradoxically, Lasch was an elitist. The very person who attacked the "talking classes" (the "symbolic analysts" in Robert Reich's less successful rendition) - freely railed against the "lowest common denominator". True, Lasch tried to reconcile this apparent contradiction by saying that diversity does not entail low standards or selective application of criteria. This, however, tends to undermine his arguments against capitalism. In his typical, anachronistic, language: 8 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity "The latest variation on this familiar theme, its reductio ad absurdum, is that a respect for cultural diversity forbids us to impose the standards of privileged groups on the victims of oppression." This leads to "universal incompetence" and a weakness of the spirit: "Impersonal virtues like fortitude, workmanship, moral courage, honesty, and respect for adversaries (are rejected by the champions of diversity)... Unless we are prepared to make demands on one another, we can enjoy only the most rudimentary kind of common life... (agreed standards) are absolutely indispensable to a democratic society (because) double standards mean second-class citizenship." This is almost plagiarism. Allan Bloom ("The Closing of the American Mind"): "(openness became trivial) ...Openness used to be the virtue that permitted us to seek the good by using reason. It now means accepting everything and denying reason's power. The unrestrained and thoughtless pursuit of openness ... has rendered openness meaningless." Lasch: "...moral paralysis of those who value 'openness' above all (democracy is more than) openness and toleration... In the absence of common standards... tolerance becomes indifference." "Open Mind" becomes: "Empty Mind". Lasch observed that America has become a culture of excuses (for self and the "disadvantaged"), of protected judicial turf conquered through litigation (a.k.a. "rights"), of neglect of responsibilities. Free speech is restricted by fear of offending potential audiences. We confuse respect (which must be earned) with toleration and appreciation, discriminating judgement with indiscriminate acceptance, and turning the blind eye. Fair and well. Political correctness has indeed degenerated into moral incorrectness and plain numbness. 9 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity But why is the proper exercise of democracy dependent upon the devaluation of money and markets? Why is luxury "morally repugnant" and how can this be PROVEN rigorously, formal logically? Lasch does not opine - he informs. What he says has immediate truth-value, is non-debatable, and intolerant. Consider this passage, which came out of the pen of an intellectual tyrant: "...the difficulty of limiting the influence of wealth suggests that wealth itself needs to be limited... a democratic society cannot allow unlimited accumulation... a moral condemnation of great wealth... backed up with effective political action... at least a rough approximation of economic equality... in the old days (Americans agreed that people should not have) far in excess of their needs." Lasch failed to realize that democracy and wealth formation are two sides of the SAME coin. That democracy is not likely to spring forth, nor is it likely to survive poverty or total economic equality. The confusion of the two ideas (material equality and political equality) is common: it is the result of centuries of plutocracy (only wealthy people had the right to vote, universal suffrage is very recent). The great achievement of democracy in the 20th century was to separate these two aspects: to combine egalitarian political access with an unequal distribution of wealth. Still, the existence of wealth - no matter how distributed - is a pre- condition. Without it there will never be real democracy. Wealth generates the leisure needed to obtain education and to participate in community matters. Put differently, when one is hungry - one is less prone to read Mr. Lasch, less inclined to think about civil rights, let alone exercise them. Mr. Lasch is authoritarian and patronizing, even when he is strongly trying to convince us otherwise. The use of the phrase: "far in excess of their needs" rings of destructive envy. Worse, it rings of a dictatorship, a negation of individualism, a restriction of civil liberties, an infringement on human rights, anti-liberalism at its worst. Who is to decide what is wealth, how much of it constitutes excess, how much is "far in excess" and, above all, what are the needs of the person deemed to be in excess? Which state commissariat will do the job? Would Mr. Lasch have volunteered to phrase the guidelines and if so, which criteria would he have applied? Eighty percent (80%) of the population of the world would have considered Mr. Lasch's wealth 10 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity to be far in excess of his needs. Mr. Lasch is prone to inaccuracies. Read Alexis de Tocqueville (1835): "I know of no country where the love of money has taken stronger hold on the affections of men and where a profounder contempt is expressed for the theory of the permanent equality of property... the passions that agitate the Americans most deeply are not their political but their commercial passions... They prefer the good sense which amasses large fortunes to that enterprising genius which frequently dissipates them." In his book: "The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy" (published posthumously in 1996) Lasch bemoans a divided society, a degraded public discourse, a social and political crisis, that is really a spiritual crisis. The book's title is modeled after Jose Ortega y Gasset's "Revolt of the Masses" in which he described the forthcoming political domination of the masses as a major cultural catastrophe. The old ruling elites were the storehouses of all that's good, including all civic virtues, he explained. The masses - warned Ortega y Gasset, prophetically - will act directly and even outside the law in what he called a hyperdemocracy. They will impose themselves on the other classes. The masses harbored a feeling of omnipotence: they had unlimited rights, history was on their side (they were "the spoiled child of human history" in his language), they were exempt from submission to superiors because they regarded themselves as the source of all authority. They faced an unlimited horizon of possibilities and they were entitled to everything at any time. Their whims, wishes and desires constituted the new law of the earth. Lasch just ingeniously reversed the argument. The same characteristics, he said, are to be found in today's elites, "those who control the international flow of money and information, preside over philanthropic foundations and institutions of higher learning, manage the instruments of cultural production and thus set the terms of public debate". But they are self appointed, they represent none but themselves. The lower middle classes were much more conservative and stable than their "self appointed spokesmen and would-be liberators". They know the limits and that there are limits, they have sound political instincts: "...favor limits on abortion, cling to the two-parent family as a source of stability in a turbulent world, resist experiments with 11 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity 'alternative lifestyles', and harbor deep reservations about affirmative action and other ventures in large- scale social engineering." And who purports to represent them? The mysterious "elite" which, as we find out, is nothing but a code word for the likes of Lasch. In Lasch's world Armageddon is unleashed between the people and this specific elite. What about the political, military, industrial, business and other elites? Yok. What about conservative intellectuals who support what the middle classes do and "have deep reservations about affirmative action" (to quote him)? Aren't they part of the elite? No answer. So why call it "elite" and not "liberal intellectuals"? A matter of (lack) of integrity. The members of this fake elite are hypochondriacs, obsessed with death, narcissistic and weaklings. A scientific description based on thorough research, no doubt. Even if such a horror-movie elite did exist - what would have been its role? Did he suggest an elite-less pluralistic, modern, technology-driven, essentially (for better or for worse) capitalistic democratic society? Others have dealt with this question seriously and sincerely: Arnold, T.S. Elliot ("Notes towards the Definition of Culture"). Reading Lasch is an absolute waste of time when compared to their studies. The man is so devoid of self-awareness (no pun intended) that he calls himself "a stern critic of nostalgia". If there is one word with which it is possible to summarize his life's work it is nostalgia (to a world which never existed: a world of national and local loyalties, almost no materialism, savage nobleness, communal responsibility for the Other). In short, to an Utopia compared to the dystopia that is America. The pursuit of a career and of specialized, narrow, expertise, he called a "cult" and "the antithesis of democracy". Yet, he was a member of the "elite" which he so chastised and the publication of his tirades enlisted the work of hundreds of careerists and experts. He extolled self-reliance - but ignored the fact that it was often employed in the service of wealth formation and material accumulation. Were there two kinds of self-reliance - one to be condemned because of its results? Was there any human activity devoid of a dimension of wealth creation? Therefore, are all human activities (except those required for survival) to cease? Lasch identified emerging elites of professionals and managers, a cognitive elite, manipulators of symbols, a threat to "real" democracy. Reich described them as trafficking in 12 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity information, manipulating words and numbers for a living. They live in an abstract world in which information and expertise are valuable commodities in an international market. No wonder the privileged classes are more interested in the fate of the global system than in their neighborhood, country, or region. They are estranged, they "remove themselves from common life". They are heavily invested in social mobility. The new meritocracy made professional advancement and the freedom to make money "the overriding goal of social policy". They are fixated on finding opportunities and they democratize competence. This, said Lasch, betrayed the American dream!?: "The reign of specialized expertise is the antithesis of democracy as it was understood by those who saw this country as 'The last best hope of Earth'." For Lasch citizenship did not mean equal access to economic competition. It meant a shared participation in a common political dialogue (in a common life). The goal of escaping the "laboring classes" was deplorable. The real aim should be to ground the values and institutions of democracy in the inventiveness, industry, self-reliance and self-respect of workers. The "talking classes" brought the public discourse into decline. Instead of intelligently debating issues, they engaged in ideological battles, dogmatic quarrels, name-calling. The debate grew less public, more esoteric and insular. There are no "third places", civic institutions which "promote general conversation across class lines". So, social classes are forced to "speak to themselves in a dialect... inaccessible to outsiders". The media establishment is more committed to "a misguided ideal of objectivity" than to context and continuity, which underlie any meaningful public discourse. The spiritual crisis was another matter altogether. This was simply the result of over- secularization. The secular worldview is devoid of doubts and insecurities, explained Lasch. Thus, single-handedly, he eliminated modern science, which is driven by constant doubts, insecurities and questioning and by an utter lack of respect for authority, transcendental as it may be. With amazing gall, Lasch says that it was religion which provided a home for spiritual uncertainties!!! Religion - writes Lasch - was a source of higher meaning, a repository of practical moral wisdom. Minor matters such as the suspension of curiosity, doubt and disbelief entailed by religious practice and the blood-saturated history of all religions - these are not mentioned. Why spoil a good argument? 13 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity The new elites disdain religion and are hostile to it: "The culture of criticism is understood to rule out religious commitments... (religion) was something useful for weddings and funerals but otherwise dispensable." Without the benefit of a higher ethic provided by religion (for which the price of suppression of free thought is paid - SV) - the knowledge elites resort to cynicism and revert to irreverence. "The collapse of religion, its replacement by the remorselessly critical sensibility exemplified by psychoanalysis and the degeneration of the 'analytic attitude' into an all out assault on ideals of every kind have left our culture in a sorry state." Lasch was a fanatic religious man. He would have rejected this title with vehemence. But he was the worst type: unable to commit himself to the practice while advocating its employment by others. If you asked him why was religion good, he would have waxed on concerning its good RESULTS. He said nothing about the inherent nature of religion, its tenets, its view of Mankind's destiny, or anything else of substance. Lasch was a social engineer of the derided Marxist type: if it works, if it molds the masses, if it keeps them "in limits", subservient - use it. Religion worked wonders in this respect. But Lasch himself was above his own laws - he even made it a point not to write God with a capital "G", an act of outstanding "courage". Schiller wrote about the "disenchantment of the world", the disillusionment which accompanies secularism - a real sign of true courage, according to Nietzsche. Religion is a powerful weapon in the arsenal of those who want to make people feel good about themselves, their lives and the world, in general. Not so Lasch: "...the spiritual discipline against self-righteousness is the very essence of religion... (anyone with) a proper understanding of religion... (would not regard it as) a source of intellectual and emotional security (but as) ...a challenge to complacency and pride." There is no hope or consolation even in religion. It is good only for the purposes of social engineering. 14 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity The New Radicalism in America In this particular respect, Lasch has undergone a major transformation. In "The New Radicalism in America" (1965), he decried religion as a source of obfuscation. "The religious roots of the progressive doctrine" - he wrote - were the source of "its main weakness". These roots fostered an anti- intellectual willingness to use education "as a means of social control" rather than as a basis for enlightenment. The solution was to blend Marxism and the analytic method of Psychoanalysis (very much as Herbert Marcuse has done - q.v. "Eros and Civilization" and "One Dimensional Man"). In an earlier work ("American Liberals and the Russian Revolution", 1962) he criticized liberalism for seeking "painless progress towards the celestial city of consumerism". He questioned the assumption that "men and women wish only to enjoy life with minimum effort". The liberal illusions about the Revolution were based on a theological misconception. Communism remained irresistible for "as long as they clung to the dream of an earthly paradise from which doubt was forever banished". In 1973, a mere decade later, the tone is different ("The World of Nations", 1973). The assimilation of the Mormons, he says, was "achieved by sacrificing whatever features of their doctrine or ritual were demanding or difficult... (like) the conception of a secular community organized in accordance with religious principles". The wheel turned a full cycle in 1991 ("The True and Only Heaven: Progress and its Critics"). The petite bourgeois at least are "unlikely to mistake the promised land of progress for the true and only heaven". In "Heaven in a Heartless world" (1977) Lasch criticized the "substitution of medical and psychiatric authority for the authority of parents, priests and lawgivers". The Progressives, he complained, identify social control with freedom. It is the traditional family - not the socialist revolution - which provides the best hope to arrest "new forms of domination". There is latent strength in the family and in its "old fashioned middle class morality". Thus, the decline of the family institution meant the decline of romantic love (!?) and of "transcendent ideas in general", a typical Laschian leap of logic. 15 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity Even art and religion ("The Culture of Narcissism", 1979), "historically the great emancipators from the prison of the Self... even sex... (lost) the power to provide an imaginative release". It was Schopenhauer who wrote that art is a liberating force, delivering us from our miserable, decrepit, dilapidated Selves and transforming our conditions of existence. Lasch - forever a melancholy - adopted this view enthusiastically. He supported the suicidal pessimism of Schopenhauer. But he was also wrong. Never before was there an art form more liberating than the cinema, THE art of illusion. The Internet introduced a transcendental dimension into the lives of all its users. Why is it that transcendental entities must be white-bearded, paternal and authoritarian? What is less transcendental in the Global Village, in the Information Highway or, for that matter, in Steven Spielberg? The Left, thundered Lasch, had "chosen the wrong side in the cultural warfare between 'Middle America' and the educated or half educated classes, which have absorbed avant-garde ideas only to put them at the service of consumer capitalism". In "The Minimal Self" (1984) the insights of traditional religion remained vital as opposed to the waning moral and intellectual authority of Marx, Freud and the like. The meaningfulness of mere survival is questioned: "Self affirmation remains a possibility precisely to the degree that an older conception of personality, rooted in Judeo-Christian traditions, has persisted alongside a behavioral or therapeutic conception". "Democratic Renewal" will be made possible through this mode of self- affirmation. The world was rendered meaningless by experiences such as Auschwitz, a "survival ethic" was the unwelcome result. But, to Lasch, Auschwitz offered "the need for a renewal of religious faith... for collective commitment to decent social conditions... (the survivors) found strength in the revealed word of an absolute, objective and omnipotent creator... not in personal 'values' meaningful only to themselves". One can't help being fascinated by the total disregard for facts displayed by Lasch, flying in the face of logotherapy and the writings of Victor Frankel, the Auschwitz survivor. "In the history of civilization... vindictive gods give way to gods who show mercy as well and uphold the morality of loving your enemy. Such a morality has never achieved anything like general popularity, but it lives on, even in our own, enlightened age, as a reminder both of our fallen state and of our surprising capacity 16 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity for gratitude, remorse and forgiveness by means of which we now and then transcend it." He goes on to criticize the kind of "progress" whose culmination is a "vision of men and women released from outward constraints". Endorsing the legacies of Jonathan Edwards, Orestes Brownson, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Thomas Carlyle, William James, Reinhold Niebuhr and, above all, Martin Luther King, he postulated an alternative tradition, "The Heroic Conception of Life" (an admixture of Brownson's Catholic Radicalism and early republican lore): "...a suspicion that life was not worth living unless it was lived with ardour, energy and devotion". A truly democratic society will incorporate diversity and a shared commitment to it - but not as a goal unto itself. Rather as means to a "demanding, morally elevating standard of conduct". In sum: "Political pressure for a more equitable distribution of wealth can come only from movements fired with religious purpose and a lofty conception of life". The alternative, progressive optimism, cannot withstand adversity: "The disposition properly described as hope, trust or wonder... three names for the same state of heart and mind - asserts the goodness of life in the face of its limits. It cannot be deflated by adversity". This disposition is brought about by religious ideas (which the Progressives discarded): "The power and majesty of the sovereign creator of life, the inescapability of evil in the form of natural limits on human freedom, the sinfulness of man's rebellion against those limits; the moral value of work which once signifies man's submission to necessity and enables him to transcend it..." Martin Luther King was a great man because "(He) also spoke the language of his own people (in addition to addressing the whole nation - SV), which incorporated their experience of hardship and exploitation, yet affirmed the rightness of a world full of unmerited hardship... (he drew strength from) a popular religious tradition whose mixture of hope and fatalism was quite alien to liberalism". Lasch said that this was the First deadly Sin of the civil rights movement. It insisted that racial issues be tackled "with arguments drawn from modern sociology and from the scientific refutation of social porejudice" - and not on moral (read: religious) grounds. 17 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity So, what is left to provide us with guidance? Opinion polls. Lasch failed to explain to us why he demonized this particular phenomenon. Polls are mirrors and the conduct of polls is an indication that the public (whose opinion is polled) is trying to get to know itself better. Polls are an attempt at quantified, statistical self-awareness (nor are they a modern phenomenon). Lasch should have been happy: at last proof that Americans adopted his views and decided to know themselves. To have criticized this particular instrument of "know thyself" implied that Lasch believed that he had privileged access to more information of superior quality or that he believed that his observations tower over the opinions of thousands of respondents and carry more weight. A trained observer would never have succumbed to such vanity. There is a fine line between vanity and oppression, fanaticism and the grief that is inflicted upon those that are subjected to it. Conclusion This is Lasch's greatest error: there is an abyss between narcissism and self love, being interested in oneself and being obsessively preoccupied with oneself. Lasch confuses the two. The price of progress is growing self-awareness and with it growing pains and the pains of growing up. It is not a loss of meaning and hope - it is just that pain has a tendency to push everything to the background. Those are constructive pains, signs of adjustment and adaptation, of evolution. America has no inflated, megalomaniac, grandiose ego. It never built an overseas empire, it is made of dozens of ethnic immigrant groups, it strives to learn, to emulate. Americans do not lack empathy - they are the foremost nation of volunteers and also professes the biggest number of (tax deductible) donation makers. Americans are not exploitative - they are hard workers, fair players, Adam Smith-ian egoists. They believe in Live and Let Live. They are individualists and they believe that the individual is the source of all authority and the universal yardstick and benchmark. This is a positive philosophy. Granted, it led to inequalities in the distribution of income and wealth. But then other ideologies had much worse outcomes. Luckily, they were defeated by the human spirit, the best manifestation of which is still democratic capitalism. The clinical term "Narcissism" was abused by Lasch in his books. It joined other words mistreated by this social preacher. The respect that this man gained in his lifetime (as a social scientist and historian of culture) makes one wonder whether he was right in criticizing the shallowness and lack of intellectual rigor of American society and of its elites. References 18 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity Bloom, A. (2008). Closing of the American mind. Simon and Schuster. BRADY, J. (2019). CHAPTER THREE ALTERNATIVE WAYS OF BEING IN LA MUJER LOCA BY JUAN JOSÉ MILLÁS: HOW LANGUAGE SEEKS TO NORMALIZE ILIVING AT THE LIMITS. Disability in Spanish-speaking and US Chicano Contexts: Critical and Artistic Perspectives, 46. Braun, J. (2019). The Present Relevance of Christopher Lasch’s The Culture of Narcissism for Studying the Sociology of Morality. The American Sociologist, 1-16. Dewi, E. W., Nurkamto, J., & Drajati, N. A. (2019). EXPLORING PEER-ASSESSMENT PRACTICE IN GRADUATE STUDENTS’ACADEMIC WRITING. LLT Journal: A Journal on Language and Language Teaching, 22(1), 58-65. Dickhaus, J., Brown, K. A., Ferrucci, P., & Anderson, M. L. (2019). AND THE AWARD GOES TO: EXAMINING THE EFFECTS OF THE" TROPHY CULTURE" ON MILLENNIALS. Journal of Contemporary Athletics, 13(1), 39-51. Habibi, H. (2018). PROTECTING NATIONAL IDENTITY BASED ON THE VALUE OF NATION LOCAL WISDOM. International Journal of Malay-Nusantara Studies, 1(2), 24-40. Hall, S. (1985). Signification, representation, ideology: Althusser and the post‐structuralist debates. Critical Studies in Media Communication, 2(2), 91-114. Jackson, J. (2019). Sociality and Magical Language. Language and Psychoanalysis, 8(1), 83-97. King, M. L. (2014). The Papers of Martin Luther King, Jr., Volume VII: To Save the Soul of America, January 1961 August 1962 (Vol. 7). Univ of California Press. Lasch, C. (1980). The culture of narcissism. Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic, 44(5), 426. Lasch, C. (2018). The culture of narcissism: American life in an age of diminishing expectations. WW Norton & Company. Lasch, C. (1996). The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy. WW Norton & Company. Lasch, C. (1991). The True and Only Heaven (New York and London. Lasch, C. (1985). The minimal self: Psychic survival in troubled times. WW Norton & Company. Lasch, C. (1997). The new radicalism in America, 1889-1963: The intellectual as a social type. WW Norton & Company. SETYABUDI, S. S. P. (2019). NARCISSISTIC TRAITS AS PORTRAYED IN THE CHARACTER OF RAVENNA IN SNOW WHITE AND THE HUNTSMAN (Doctoral dissertation, Diponegoro University). Vaknin, S. (2019). Narcissism, Shame, Happiness. EC Psychology and Psychiatry, 8, 242-245. Wildavsky, A. (2018). The revolt against the masses: And other essays on politics and public policy. Routledge. 19 | The Culture of Narcissism: Cultural Dilemmas, Language Confusion and The Formation of Social Identity y Gasset, J. O., & Marías, J. (1983). La rebelión de las masas. Orbis. 
work_bct632yvxjaaxg3aorgzfwscoy	----	Comparative Study of Post-Marriage Nationality Of Women in Legal Systems of Different Countries The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 730 International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding http://ijmmu.com editor@ijmmu.com ISSN 2364-5369 Volume 6, Issue 6 December, 2019 Pages: 730-738 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James Marziyeh Dastmard 1 ; Abbas Izadpanah 2* 1 PhD student, Department of Philosophy and Islamic Theology, Qom University, Qom, Iran 2 Faculty of Philosophy and Islamic Theology, Qom University, Qom, Iran *Email: abbasizadpanah24@gmail.com http://dx.doi.org/10.18415/ijmmu.v6i6.1196 Abstract Psychology of religion, an interdisciplinary field between psychology and religion, is a new knowledge that describes psychological experiences, attitudes and behaviors. This knowledge began in the late nineteenth century and was consolidated in three British, American, German and French traditions. The American tradition of experientialism, using specimens and case studies and statistical descriptions, is the intellectual philosopher and functional psychologist and nominee pragmatist William James, who empirically examines the psychological analysis of religious affairs. He who believes in the ultimate assessment of thought or experience by examining the result and the rate of profitability in life relies on two criteria of compatibility with the correct assumptions and beliefs as well as intuition and introverting as the main and most reliable research tool. James seeks to study religion over the life of man, his actions and experiences, and for this purpose uses the term religious experience. William James also believes that emotions are the most stable and fundamental elements, and religion is essentially a matter of feeling. In his view, religious experience is an experience that the subject understands religiously. In this sense, the religion of feelings, actions, and experiences of individuals in their loneliness is against whatever they consider sacred. In order to understand more about James's views on religion, this article seeks to study the relationship between religion and psychology. William James is an intellectual think tank. Keywords: Psychology; Religion; Epistemology; William James 1. Introduction Religion psychology includes psychological reflections and studies on experiences, traditions and religious attitudes. The purpose of this knowledge is to describe and explain the factors and areas of religion, its dimensions, measurement and measurement of religion and its effects and consequences in individual and social life. The psychology of religion addresses the psychological analysis of religious http://ijmmu.com/ mailto:editor@ijmmu.com International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 731 concepts and teachings in terms of the emergence, growth, explanation, pathology, and the implications of religious issues. David M. Woolf (2007), a famous psychologist in the introduction of psychology of religion, says: systematic use of psychological theories and methods in terms of content of religious traditions, experiences, attitudes and behaviors associated with those traditions by individuals. In the psychology of religion, concepts such as religious and moral values such as faith and piety, repentance, humility, and envy are scientifically described. Psychologists first define this attribute and examine through the tables the development and growth of them in terms of various motivational, physical and cognitive dimensions. Occasionally, some particular situations and behaviors of people during religious rituals such as prayer, fasting, pilgrimage, and pilgrimage are also examined. William James is one of the most important psychologists of pragmatism. James's main interest in religion is focused on the practical results of religious belief in the true life of the believer. His general approach to justifying the truth of religious belief is also the same. The same field and some of James's own statements about the standard of truth-belief have led some James commentators to consider him a philosopher who has tried to call "pragmatism" as an alternative to "realism" in metaphysics, epistemology, and philosophy of religion to put forward. Referring to James's total statement on the truth of belief, as well as his arguments in the context of the incorrect interpretation of the aforementioned religion, it is shown that in James's theory of truth, there are realistic facts independent of the default mind and James's commitment to pragmatism in the field of justification religious beliefs are not contradictory. With his commitment to religious realism, the view of the existence of a recognizable and independent of the mind of the subject of religious belief shows the same thing. William James also conveyed the truth of religion and the inherent significance of religion as belonging to the religion, and claims that there are two things in the realm of religion: one is religious organization (religiously institutionalized), such as worship, vows, religious orders and the organizational system of the church in a way that if we restrict ourselves to this area, we must define religion as an external art, namely, the art of grace and the grace of the gods. The other the internal problem (personal religion) that is related to the inner being of man and in which man and his relationship with God are raised. This second affects the religious experience and the internal relations of man with God and is certain, the philosophy and science of the word that relates to the wisdom and organization of the church and the clergy (religious acts) is beyond our discussion. Religious organizations are based on the traditional feelings that they have received. 2. William James's Personality, Life And Works William James, a famous American philosopher and psychologist, was born in 1842 in New York. His father, an unorthodox scholar with literary collaborations, such as Oliver Wendell Holmes and Ralph Waldo Emerson, provided him with a freethinking space that allowed him and his children to decide on their own career and life. James's primary education was with his father. James from 1855 to 1860, along with his brother Henry, who later became a famous novelist and became famous for him (Azeri and Mousavi, 2006). He studied in schools in England, France, Switzerland and Germany. During this school, James's interest in natural science was on the one hand, and art, especially painting, fluctuated on the other. James's interest in painting was so strong that he spent painting courses, but eventually turned to natural science, but, as William James Earl said in his life story, throughout his scientific and philosophical life, his artistic look, of which the components of attention to detail tangible and belonging to style. In 1861, James entered the Lawrence School of Harvard, and then joined the Department of Anatomy and Adaptive Physiology, and in 1864, he entered the Medical Group at Harvard. In 1867, his tendency to International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 732 empirical psychology led him to study at the University of Berlin. He later returned to Harvard and completed his medical education in 1869 (Shirvani, 2007). He suffered a mental illness at the same time, claiming that his religious beliefs helped his recovery and salvation. In the course of this period, James, including those of the French philosopher Charles Renouille, also turned to some kind of critical idealism against positivism, materialism, and transformative naturalism. He also adopted allegory instead of obstinacy and oppression instead of algebra. In 1872, he began teaching physiology at Harvard, and spent years teaching anatomy, psychology, and philosophy. In 1890, the book published the Principles of Psychology, which lasted for 12 years and was considered an important and fundamental element in psychology for a long time. Other important works include the diversity of religious experience (1902), pragmatism (1907), and the pluralistic world (1909). James had an influential, active and social personality with friends Charles Sanderson Pearce (Press), Charles Renouille, George Santana, John Dewey, Henry Bergson and Bradley. (Shakerin, 2016). They used all their knowledge and thought and influenced them themselves. His personality was such that even the Spanish philosopher and poet, Santa Chiuna (1863-1952), who was mentally disagreeable with him, penned him with admiration. Although the roots of thought of pragmatism or the philosophy of practical authenticity are considered by Charles Sanders Pearce (Press), William James Benny is generally the principal representative of this school, and even generally American philosophy in the first half of the twentieth century. James died in 1910. 3. Methodology by William James In the scientific identity of William James, the label is pragmatist and hence he is in the paradigm of empiricists. However, as he himself says, he is in the midst of moderate intellectual and hard-working empiricist rationalism, and his theoretical attention to issues sometimes overcomes his empirical aspect. He sometimes refers to his method of spiritual judgment against existentialism and uses the methods of survey, chain study, comparative study, and individual documents in the application of theoretical research, but special attention is paid to experimental and laboratory studies in his psychology studies. In psychological analysis, religious beliefs also use introspection, experimentation and comparison. He founded the first psychology lab in America in 1876. 4. Intellectual foundations of William James William James an empirical and realist psychologist and famous philosopher of pragmatism, is one of the most influential proponents of the American tradition of this school. He graduated from Harvard Medical School, where he became an associate professor of anatomy and physiology, then a professor of philosophy and then a professor of psychology. He, who combines the philosophy and psychology of his work, established the first psychology lab in America at Harvard. In addition to all kinds of religious experience, the principles of psychology and pragmatism are a new name for thinking ways of James's other works (Hosseini, 2010). James, who grew up in a Protestant setting, had religious concerns, and he himself was emotionally attached to a religious attachment and tendency. "In the background of all his works there is a great religion ... that he takes all his life and mind and produces a great effect in the world," Chapman International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 733 says of his works. In the book, "Types of Religious Experience, The self-respecting mystical statement says: "My inherent dignity is almost entirely dependent on these spiritual decisions" (James, 2002). According to his pragmatism, he believes that the truth of everything depends on its utility in practice, and one believes when it satisfies to be confirmed by experience. From pragmatism's point of view, the only probable test of probability is that there should be something that guides us better, something best suited to every aspect of life, combined with the set of requirements of experience without removing something from it. He says elsewhere: "If there is life that's really better, and if there's a theory that believes in helping us deal with that life, then it's" really better for us "to believe it, unless the belief in that view is implicitly addressed to our larger vital interests "(James, 1902). "The truth is nothing but ideas that are real to help us create a satisfying relationship with other parts of our experience," he says. Any idea that helps us succeed in part of our experience can bring things together in a satisfactory way, guaranteeing, simplifying matters and saving workforce, is as real and as It is real instrumentality "(James 2002). James satisfies one's beliefs as pleasures, calm minds and minds, constructive encounters with the person's healthy living and traits, and wants to preserve everything, as well as to follow the logic, the senses, and to take into account the most humorous and personal experiences. He takes into account the mystical and mystical experiences, if practical. He argues that pragmatism, while interested in the realities, is far from the materialistic prejudice that ordinary empiricism has suffered ... "If it turns out that the views of theology are valuable in one's life, they are for real pragmatism, namely Their value is good "(James, 1890). In the definition of religion, James also has an empirical look and says that "many of the religious philosophers have tried to provide many definitions for religion, but none could determine the essence and essence of religion for religion and express the maximum features of religion (James, 2002). He says that the essence of religion cannot be reached, but only its features can be revealed, so it is a name for a set of these features. The term "religion" does not refer to the original or single element, but to a set of things. Religion is the emotions, actions, and experiences of individuals that occur in their own worlds, so that they find themselves in relation to what the divine is considered to be. He sees the essence of religion as the sensation and practical conduct of the religions, and believes in the religious life he spoke repeatedly that religious life is widely sought to make a person exceptional and unusual. (James, 1902). In a summing up of religious life, James says in general, in the broadest possible way, the features of religious life are based on our knowledge of these beliefs: 1. The spectacular world is part of a more spiritual world that receives its value and meaning from it. 2. Joining or joining with that superior world is our true endeavor. 3. Prayer or connection with the spirit of the world of creation of God or the order of the universe is a process in which a really (fruitful) work takes place, and spiritual powers have psychological or physical effects in us. 4. Life finds a new taste and taste, as a divine blessing appearing in the form of a life full of poetic vitality or boldness. 5. An esoteric security and tranquility are created, the result of which is inextricably linked to others, expresses affection and emotions (James 2002). International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 734 5. Religious Experience from the Viewpoint of William James The first lectures by William James at the University of Cifferd in 1902, titled "Religious Experiences," are penetrating the subject of religious experience. James, like, Schiller believes that the deeper origins of religion are the same, and philosophical and verbal beliefs are secondary and subordinate processes, such as translations of one text in another language. James, unlike Schiller, believes that religious feeling is psychologically emotional. Religious love for him is the same sense of natural love that belongs to that religion (Azerbaijan, 1998). He classifies events that can be known as religious experience, and tries to understand and evaluate them. Contrary to Schiller, William James does not combine feelings and intuition, and he does not have a special status for feeling as the work of the mind, which preceded knowledge and action, and that it was the causative factor of the two, but that emotion was perceived as a change It is in physical condition; however, religious beliefs are second-rate products that never existed if they were not religious in the past. Religious beliefs are the superficial layer of the mode of faith, which is the best feature of that emotionality. The state of faith is a kind of faith or belief that provides the basis of religious certainty. What James assumes in his proposal for the science of religions that replaces traditional theology and philosophy of religion is that the subject of hypothesis of comparative, critical thinking and the maker that constitutes that science is an immediate experience. Deeper sources of religion are in the senses, not in wisdom (Hick, 1372). In confirmation of his view that religion is in the sense of emotion, James points out three points: negligence, religious experience is qualitatively tangible and, for an agent, seems to be a non- intermediate, not the result of inference and Informative note. Second, the credibility of the experience. People are not often affected by rational arguments about religion. Religious beliefs and teachings represent the deeper origins of feelings and experiences. If religious experience does not provide sufficient credibility for those beliefs, rational arguments are not likely to be convincing. Third, he claims that a review of various religious traditions, religious beliefs and concepts is very diverse, while the feelings and convictions that are the basis and basis for such rational diversity are fixed. Consequently, in order to understand the characteristics of the religious experience and the common aspect of various traditions, one must examine feelings and experiences, not beliefs or teachings. In his view, feelings and conduct are the most stable elements of religion; therefore, they are the most fundamental elements of religion (Braud Fout, 1998). The central sense of religious experience is what he calls a state of faith that is not psychological, precise, and precise. The concept of the mode of faith is taken from Luba. He describes it like this: "An emotional experience that, in my opinion, should be called safe state, rather than a faith, in order to avoid exorcism. Its features include: feeling empathy and satisfaction, feeling the perception of facts that were previously unknown. " In James's theory, what is important is the separation of this feeling from thought or belief, but this separation does not end in the way, and what he feels is actually a thought that carries belief. (James, 1993). Religious experience should be described from the perspective of the subject. Religious experience is an experience that the subject, as it is religious, understands, James states: "Religion, as I ask you to voluntarily accept it, means for us the feelings, deeds and experiences of individuals in their own loneliness.; They see themselves as something sacred in relation to what they understand "(James 2002). Thus, William James defines religion in terms of the subject's perception of his relation to what is sacred, and the two terms "understand" and "sacred" refer to the descriptions of the subject and the implied beliefs. The religious provisions of experience are from the epistemic side. The subject understands himself and the world in the light of religious beliefs. Religious experience is an experience the subject regards as religious, and this identification is not based on the subject or subject of experience, but is based on the epistemic aspect or its importance for the validity of religious beliefs. James, of course, refers to the epistemic quality of the mystical experience; but he calls mysticism a special form in International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 735 which the religionists admit that they see reality in that state, and mysticism is not limited to mystical experience. (James, 2008). William James for religious experiences includes features that express mystical states; hence, it can be said that, from his point of view, there is no clear distinction between "mystical experience" and "religious experience," or if the difference between this. There are two, he did not reveal this distinction. (Wolf, 2007). 6. Features of the Religious Experience in James's Point of View 1. Indispensability: The most obvious sign in mysticism is its inability, in which the mystic state is in such a way that it does not accept expression and truth, and the quality of this state must be directly experienced and mysticism is more like a state of feeling than an understanding and Imagine 2. Civility: Although the mystical states are in appearance similar to emotions, they are in fact a form of identification and a sort of approach to the depths of the truth that rational reason does not go into this depth. 3. Fleeting: Gnostic states are not long lasting, and often, when they are spent, they disappear daily and are incompletely remembered. 4. Passiveness: These conditions are accepted and accepted, and although it is possible to facilitate the occurrence of the mystical present by means of voluntary measures, concentration, and implementation of particular exercises, but as soon as a certain type of consciousness begins, the mystic is conquered and Capturing power comes to a halt (James, 1907). 7. Religious Diversity in the Viewpoint of William James At the same time, recognizing the diversity of religions and pluralism, James, considering a unit of religion for religion, has a kind of unity in feelings and behavior under which there is a wide variety in religious thought to identify that these elements can be a precious in religion. Concepts, symbols, and other doctrines are merely a secondary aspect, perhaps these are beneficial but not essential to sustaining religious life. The emotional character of this life is promising and inclusive. He describes this feeling: "I try to remove one thing from all religious experiences, emotions and personal belongings, which is the core of all religions, and accepts the holy spirit of its religions. If you look at the different religions of the world, you will see how different ideas and thoughts are, but the actual emotions and practices of religions are not the same. When you study the life of the religious elders of the world, whether Christian or Buddhist, and ... you actually see their lives close, so the different hypotheses and thoughts that make up religions are secondarily important. If you want to get the gem of religion, look at their feelings and behavior, which are the most radical religious factors. What is in between the heart and the behavior (the two basic elements) is the most basic element of our spiritual life, and the thoughts, beliefs, and works and religious institutions originate from there. One day, in all religions of the world, these superstructures will be in harmony and formality, but they can never be considered the foundations of religion. "(James, 2011). James believes that prayer and supplication with God are the geometrical dimensions of religion after the essence of religious experience as the quality and state of what is attained in this regard. But a International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 736 prayer consisting of a request is only part of prayer, and if we consider the term in a broader sense, that is, any kind of communication or conversation with the divine powers, we can see that other practical critique will not succeed. Prayer is the broadest, most spiritual, and the most gem of religion. Prayer is indeed a true religion. 8. William James Theological Thought 8.1. Religion and Religious Belief James says: "Religion is the greatest attachment of my life." (James, 1907) While William James's fame among philosophers is more for his method and theory and his pragmatic philosophy of truth than his work on religion, many works there are some of whom are his most important works, and he addresses religious and religious issues. Of these works, one can mention the most prominent: the natural reaction and God-fearing, the will to believe, is life worth living and the immortality of man. More importantly, his famous book, The Variety of Religious Experience, is nowadays a classic work in the field of Religion Studies, and is the result of his speeches in the Gifford Contemporary Collection, which appeared in Edinburgh in 1901 and 1902. In fact, even many of James's works, whose main subjects are other things, express his continued interest in religious affairs (Azeri, 1998). For example, in his essay "The Philosophical Concepts and Practical Findings" in which James originally introduced the pragmatist or originality of his philosophy, he also spoke about the meaning of various religious and metaphysical categories. In the book of pragmatism, he spoke 9 years later when assessing and evaluating philosophical concepts of religion as the main and main attachment. 8.2. The Issue of Pragmatism and Religion James, in the book of pragmatism, which is James's most remarkable description of the philosophy of the originality of his work, devotes much of his attention to issues of truth and reality, philosophical meanings and methodologies. Nevertheless, these discussions take place not only because of their rational and theoretical significance, but also because they recognize their results in solving questions related to the meaning and justification of religious beliefs. The eighth lecture of pragmatism specifically focuses on the issue of pragmatism and religion, and the second and third lectures include important topics on religious issues. James's writings on psychological and cognitive research are also important in his views on religion. Because one of James's goals in these works is to expand the scope of the grounds for the truth and truth of religious claims. He believes that a careful and narrow analysis of psychological experiences may provide reasons and arguments against the patterns of materialistic and materialistic causality, thus allowing a more open and empathic assessment of the validity of religious experience (James, 2011). 9. Mysticism and Mystical States from James's Point of View William James has had a great deal of influence from Hegel, inasmuch as he believes that the universe of mysticism is the universe of reconciliations and uniqueness. In those cases, we do not deny or refuse to the extent that we submit and accept. In this great world, all extremes and limits will be enclosed and differences will be eliminated. Where everything is neglected and you will come to the final truth. He International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 737 says: "The mystical experiences are an esoteric inference that, as if sensed, is certain, even if all our apparent senses cease to exist, these experiences are perceived and understood by facts that are self- perceived We get it for us (James, 1993) The existence of mystical creatures is completely invalidated by the claim that non-mystical states, absolute rulers of the monopoly and the ultimate of our possible beliefs. According to the virtues of the mystical creatures, they merely add an extraordinary meaning to the ordinary and apparent data of mind and consciousness. They have emotions that are similar to feelings of love, dreams and dreams; some of our soul's blessings that, with the help of them, the facts that were objectively before us, have new meanings for us, and a new connection with life we establish. Mystical things are not merely a mystical source, but they are higher in their sense of the direction in which religious feelings, even the religious sentiments of non-mystic people, tend to be. 10. Discussion and Conclusion In the scientific community, paying attention to the correct critique of a viewpoint is a sign of credit and attention to its scientific status. Undoubtedly, humiliation for a perspective is not greater than that one does not have any critique and explanation of possible errors, and it is worth noting that in the present article, the relationship between religion and psychology in William James's intellectual books was examined and, according to analyzes it can be stated that James has to come up with a result in order to understand the truth of a thought, instead of addressing general and rational principles; instead of looking at the beginning, one has to look at it. Experience in the pragmatist thought of James is a special place, in such a way that all thought can be returned to him in every field. This is also true of his view of religion. The result is that the criterion of the truth of religious experiences is experience, but the proof of truth of the sensory propositions is due to a fraction of metaphysical and rational propositions, and empirical research can not be the cause of truth and the validity of the empirical research principle; The truth and its epistemic value must be proved elsewhere, while its religious experience is the reason for the truth and legitimacy of the religious experience, and since all the supernatural teachings are neglected, the only way to prove this self-determination and to be trapped in a rational trap is logically. In the individualist branch of religion, contrary to the inner attributes of man, that is, conscience and merits, is helplessness and defect which forms the focus of attention, and although the grace of God, whether it is achieved or not, is still the fundamental aspect of this is a controversy, and theology plays a major role, but the actions that this kind of religion prompts are personal, not rituals. The individual carries out the deal on his own, and the Church and clerical organization with its clerics and sanctities and its intermediaries are all in the secondary position. He believes that at least one meaning of personal and individual religion is more fundamental than theology or church organization. Churches have relied on tradition through the time they were founded, but founders of the Church, in principle, owe their power to direct personal contact with God. Thus, it can be said that in William James's view, it is true that rituals play a secondary role, and the primary role is assigned to feelings and emotions; and James tried to revive the element of emotion and affection, and the essence of religion or that element and an important feature that is not found elsewhere, and with which religion can be judged in the domain of esoteric experience. He also believes that if you want to extract the essence of religion, you must consider the feelings and actions of these individuals as pay attention to sustainable elements. The main work of religion is the creation of the relationship between the two elements. Ideas, symbols and other entities are foliage that may be used to complete and improve it. One day, all of them can be united in a single system of harmony, but they can not be considered as elements that have an essential role and have been necessary for religious life for all ages. International Journal of Multicultural and Multireligious Understanding (IJMMU) Vol. 6, No. 6, December 2019 The Relationship of Religion and Spirituality in the School of Thought of William James 738 References Azerbaijani, M (1998). Theology of Religion in the Viewpoint of William James, Qom: Institute of Hawaii and University. Azarbaijan, M, Mousavi, M. (2006). Profit on Psychology of Religion, Tehran and Qom: Research Institute of Higher and University. Hick, J. (1993). Philosophy of Religion, Translated by Bahramarad, First Edition, Tehran: International Publication of Al-Hadi. Hosseini, M. (2010), About Religious Experiences, First Edition, Hermes Publishing House, Tehran. James, W. (1993), Religion and Spirituality, Translated by Mehdi Qa'eni, Second Edition, Tehran: University Publishing Center. James, W. (2011), Variety of Religious Experiences, Translated by Hossein Kiani, First Edition, Tehran: Hekmat Publications. James, W., Pragmatism, Translation by Abdolkarim Rashidian, Tehran: Islamic Revolution Education Education. Maggie Brian (2008). The Acquisition of Philosophy, translation of Hasan Kamshad, Tehran: Neshrani. Jemes, W. (1902). The Varieties of Religious Experience, New York, London: Green. Jemes, W. (2002). The Varieties of Religious Experience, (Centry Edition), Newyork: The Gilford Press. James. W. (1890). The Principles of Psychology, (٣ Vols), Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press Jemes, W. (1907), Pragmatism, Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University. Pravod Feut, W. (1998), Religious Experiences, Translation of Abbas Yazdani First Printing, Qom. Shirvani, A. (2007), Theoretical Foundations of Religious Experiences, First Edition, Qom: Publications Office of Islamic Propagation, Scientific Field of Qom. Shakerin, H.R. (2011), The Basics and Preconditions for Understanding Religion, First Edition, Tehran, Publishing Organization, Research Institute for Islamic Culture and Thought Woolf, D.M. (2007). Theology of Religion, translation by Mohammad Dehghani, Tehran: Growth. Copyrights Copyright for this article is retained by the author(s), with first publication rights granted to the journal. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). 
work_ba7f6c77cnebfnuqjjycu2kide	----	That Which Was Ecstasy Shall Become Daily Bread religions Article That Which Was Ecstasy Shall Become Daily Bread Barry M. Andrews Unitarian Universalist Congregation at Shelter Rock, 719 Daylily Lane, Bainbridge Island, WA 98110, USA; revbma@aol.com Academic Editors: Daniel Koch and Kenneth S. Sacks Received: 26 January 2017; Accepted: 12 April 2017; Published: 24 April 2017 Abstract: This paper attempts to answer three questions: (1) Was Emerson a mystic? (2) If so, what is the nature of his mysticism? (3) How has his understanding of mysticism influenced by Unitarian theology and spiritual practice? In doing so, it draws upon historical and contemporary studies of mysticism and mystical experience, including those of William James, Leigh Eric Schmidt, and Bernard McGinn among others; the writings of Emerson, including his essays, lectures, and journals, and, finally, the testimonies of his contemporaries and succeeding generations of Unitarian religious leaders. Answering the first question in the affirmative, the paper examines Emerson’s understanding of mysticism as a departure from a devotional form of mysticism focused on relationship with a personalized deity and toward a naturalistic, transpersonal type of mysticism, and traces its influence within the context of Unitarian history. Keywords: mysticism; experience; Emerson; Transcendentalism; Unitarianism Anyone presuming to write on the subject of mysticism would do well to heed this word of caution from writer Kathleen Norris: The word “mystic” is as dangerous as the word “poet,” if only because both words are so vulnerable to misunderstanding and abuse. When we describe someone as a “poet” or a “mystic,” we generally mean it as a warning—here’s someone whose head is in the clouds and who can’t get places on time. Someone we admire, or profess to admire, if we hold a romantic, sentimental view of either poetry or religion. But we wouldn’t want our child to marry one, let alone become one (Norris 1998, p. 284). Clearly, mysticism has been interpreted in various ways, not all of them favorable. The meaning of the term has also changed over time, as noted by Leigh Eric Schmidt in his essay, “The Making of Modern ‘Mysticism’” (Schmidt 2003). Thus the question as to whether or not Ralph Waldo Emerson was a mystic hinges on our understanding of the nature of mysticism and mystical experience. Many in his day and since have argued that he was. Others, including Patrick F. Quinn, have insisted that he was not. Noting the elasticity of the term, Quinn, in “Emerson and Mysticism”, attempts to identify “the essentials of mysticism” and then to examine Emerson against these criteria. Mystics, he contends, are known first of all by their way of life. Mystics, “whether European or Oriental, dedicated their lives to a discipline, a mystical program”. Secondly, mysticism is a type of religious experience, essentially the same regardless of time and place. In particular, it is an experience of union with God. Thirdly, Quinn states that “mysticism is not a random occurrence”, but results from adhering to a spiritual practice. Finally, the mystic “is not immediately concerned about the world, creatures, or human affairs”, but is focused instead on a supernatural reality that is distinct from normal, everyday reality. In sum, he holds that “mysticism is the special kind of religious experience which is undergone by a person who has become deeply aware of, and in love with, an objective spiritual reality—usually conceived of Religions 2017, 8, 75; doi:10.3390/rel8040075 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040075 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 75 2 of 18 in the West as God—and who actively engages in the disciplines by which he attains, or believes he attains, union with God” (Quinn 1950). Measured against these criteria, Quinn finds claims that Emerson was a mystic are unwarranted. Emerson often associated mysticism with alchemy and hermetic thought. He seemed to be unfamiliar with the great mystics of history. Citing the well-known “transparent eye-ball” passage in Nature, Quinn notes that mystics find it difficult to describe their mystical experiences, whereas Emerson apparently does not. Moreover, for Emerson God is not transcendent, but immanent. Having advanced an essentialist argument, Quinn concludes that Emerson is not a mystic, but rather a humanist who “asks us to take all the sense of holiness and reverence that is traditionally reserved for a divine being and to transfer it to the plane of the natural and the human” (Quinn 1950, p. 413). Add to Quinn’s analysis the fact that Emerson never called himself a mystic, and one wonders why anyone today should persist in thinking he was one. But the problem with this conclusion is that Quinn’s definition of mysticism, written in 1950, is not only essentialist, but also outdated. Contemporary scholarship is more focused on the inner experience of the mystic than the outward forms that mysticism takes. For example, Bernard McGinn writes, “the mystics invite us to imagine and even to explore an inner transformation of the self, based on a new understanding of the human relation to God. For some mystics this understanding is rooted in extraordinary forms of consciousness, such as visions and ecstasies...Other mystics, however, insist that such special experiences are only preparatory and peripheral, and perhaps even harmful if one confuses them with the core of mysticism understood as inner transformation.” (McGinn 2006, p. xiii) Emerson’s idea of God differs considerably from the Christian notion. But he too stressed the importance of inner transformation resulting from a new understanding of the individual's relation to the universal Soul revealed in ecstatic experiences. It is this emphasis on inner transformation, rather than the formal criteria Quinn outlines that qualifies Emerson as a mystic. Historically speaking, the Transcendentalists reinterpreted the nature of mysticism as it was known in their day and made it the basis of religion and spirituality. In the 18th century the word mysticism had primarily negative connotations and was used, pejoratively, to denote false religion, characterized by fanaticism and extravagance rather than calm rationality. In instances where mystics were accorded more positive treatment—the 1797 edition of the Encyclopedia Britannica, for example—they were seen as belonging to a minor sect within Christianity. In the popular mind, mysticism was identified with cults and secret societies. As late as 1847, the author of the book, Mysticism and Its Results, defined mysticism as “the revelation of learning, social, religious, and political, the teaching of which has been, and is, preserved secret from the world, by societies, associations, and confraternities” (Delafield 1847, p. 15). Schmidt contends that a fundamental shift in the understanding of mysticism took place during the 1840s and 1850s, largely within the context of Unitarianism. The Unitarians had come into prominence in the early nineteenth-century in reaction to Calvinist theology and the religious revivals of the Second Great Awakening. They advocated the use of reason in examining theology and scripture and were averse to the emotional fervor of revivalism. However, a younger generation of Unitarians, influenced by Romantic ideas coming from Britain and Europe, gave new currency to the notion of mysticism. Beginning in 1836, a number of young Unitarian ministers and intellectuals began to meet to discuss the “new views” from across the Atlantic and the shortcomings of the Unitarian church. The members of this group, which came to be called the Transcendentalist Club, included Ralph Waldo Emerson, Theodore Parker, Margaret Fuller, Henry David Thoreau, George Ripley, Elizabeth Palmer Peabody, Frederick Henry Hedge, Bronson Alcott, and a number of others—forty to fifty in all. Romanticism represented “a crack in nature”, Emerson said in the introduction to his 1839 lecture series on “The Present Age”, a schism running under literature, philosophy, the church, and the state. “It seems a war betwixt the Intellect and the Affection” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 3, p. 187). The impact of Romanticism on the Unitarian church was of paramount concern to the members of the Transcendental Club. Unitarian theology was based on the empirical philosophy of John Locke, which held that knowledge is gained by means of sensory data coming into the mind from the outside world. Religions 2017, 8, 75 3 of 18 But the Transcendentalists felt strongly that Unitarianism could not be defended on empirical grounds. The Unitarians believed, for instance, that the divine authority of Jesus was confirmed by the miracles he performed. Not only had David Hume argued that miracles were a violation of nature but also German biblical criticism had shown that the Bible was an unreliable source of information. The Romantic writers—Thomas Carlyle and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, in particular—offered the Transcendentalists an alternative both to the hyper-rationalism and logical inconsistency of Unitarian theology. To persist in grounding faith in the Bible and church doctrine could only lead to skepticism. Emerson made this quite clear in his controversial address at the Harvard Divinity School in 1838. It was an attack on historical Christianity. Speaking to an audience of ministerial students and Unitarian divines, Emerson declared, “whilst the doors of the temple stand open, night and day, before every man, and the oracles of this truth cease never, it is guarded by one stern condition; this, namely, It is an intuition. It cannot be received at second hand”. Forsaking this truth, the church had fallen into error. Scripture, ritual, and the teachings of the church had usurped “the place of the doctrine of the soul”. As for miracles attesting to the divinity of Christ, he thought the notion monstrous: “It is not one with the blowing clover and the falling rain”. The “famine in our churches”, he observed, resulted from the fact that “no doctrine of the Reason...will bear to be taught by the Understanding” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, pp. 80–85). This distinction between the Reason and the Understanding came from Emerson’s reading of Coleridge. In his book, Aids to Reflection, Coleridge asserted that there are two ways of knowing, which he termed the Understanding and the Reason. Understanding, or empirical knowledge, is analytical in nature. Reason, on the other hand, is holistic and intuitive. It is a revelation of the Universal Mind. In a lengthy section of his journal in 1835, which he titled, “Of the Nature of the Mind”, Emerson explored the implications of this distinction. The ideas of Reason, he wrote, “astonish the Understanding and seem to it gleams of a world in which we do not live”. As with Coleridge, Emerson considered Reason to be the superior way of knowing. “Its attributes are Eternity and Intuition”, he asserted. “We belong to it, not it to us”. On the other hand, “the Understanding is the executive faculty, the hand of the mind. It mediates between the soul and inert matter. It works in time and space, and therefore successively. It divides, compares, reasons, invents. It lives from the Reason, yet disobeys it. It commands the material world, yet often for the pleasure of the sense” (Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 5, pp. 270–72). It would appear that in the materialistic world-view of empirical philosophy, the Understanding has gained the upper hand, to the neglect and disadvantage of the Reason. In living “for the pleasure of the sense”, people live superficial, one-dimensional lives in which appearances count for everything. “We walk about in a sleep”, Emerson continued. “A few moments in the year or in our lifetime we truly live; we are at the top of our being; we are pervaded, yea, dissolved by the Mind: but we fall back again presently”. Thus, he was led to ponder one of the perennial quandaries of the spiritual life: We stand on the edge of all that is great yet are restrained in inactivity and unacquaintance with our powers...We are always on the brink of an ocean into which we do not yet swim...We are in the precincts, never admitted. There is much preparation—great ado of machinery, plans of life, travelling, studies, profession, solitude, often with little fruit. But suddenly in any place, in the street, in the chamber, will the heaven open, and the regions of wisdom be uncovered, as if to show how thin the veil, how null the circumstances. As quickly, a Lethean stream washes through us and bereaves us of ourselves. What a benefit if a rule could be given whereby the mind, dreaming amidst the gross fogs of matter, could at any moment east itself and find the sun. But the common life is an endless succession of phantasms. And long after we have deemed ourselves recovered and sound, light breaks in upon us and we find we have yet had no sane hour (Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 5, pp. 274–75). Religions 2017, 8, 75 4 of 18 Emerson was drawn to Coleridge’s ideas because he found in them a more accurate depiction of the way the mind works than the empirical epistemology of John Locke. He did not deny the importance of the Understanding. The realm of the Understanding was subordinate to that of the Reason, not divorced from it. The affairs of daily life should be guided by spiritual and moral considerations, not solely by material or instrumental ones. Unfortunately, it is the Understanding that is our default mode of encountering the world. The revelations of Reason, as noted in the passage above, come to us only intermittently and largely unannounced. So seldom is their occurrence and so at odds with our empirical experience, we are tempted to discount their validity. Yet those ecstatic experiences represent the spiritual high points of our lives. Emerson’s high estimation of Coleridge was widely shared among the members of the Transcendentalist circle. They found in Coleridge and other Romantic writers a response to the troubling skepticism engendered by Hume and the Enlightenment assault on the grounds of religious belief. In his study of The Romantic Foundations of the American Renaissance, Leon Chai argues that in the face of such attacks “it was necessary to find the source of religion within consciousness itself, as the one undeniable Cartesian datum: to create out of the epiphanic experience of consciousness a sense of the sublime and infinite, a new content of religious awareness” (Chai 1987, p. 10). It was this fundamental shift—from establishing religious belief on the basis of scripture and doctrine to locating it in human consciousness—that constituted the “crack in nature” Emerson had proclaimed. As a consequence, the epistemology of religious experience shifted also, from empirical ways of knowing to intuitive and, I would argue, essentially mystical ones. In a lecture on “Religion” in the “Philosophy of History” lecture series given in the winter of 1836–1837, Emerson attempted to describe the nature of these revelations of the Reason, even though “the extreme simplicity” of these intuitions “embarrasses every attempt at analysis”. They are characterized, first of all, by their universality. They are revelations of the Universal Mind, common to all individual human beings. Secondly, they are moral in the sense that they prompt us to right action. And, third, they elevate those who experience them. The experience itself “is an influx of the Divine Mind into our mind. It is an ebb of the Individual rivulet before the flowing surges of the Sea of Life”. This experience—which can only be described as a mystical experience—is at the heart of all religions and common to all people: To this Soul, this Reason, every human being has access. And every moment when the individual feels himself interpenetrated by it, is memorable. Always, I believe, by the necessity of our constitution, a certain enthusiasm attends the individual’s consciousness of that divine presence. The character and duration of this enthusiasm varies with the state of the individual from an extasy [sic] and trance and prophetic inspiration,—which is its rarer appearance,—to the faintest glow of virtuous emotion, in which form it warms, like our household fires, all the families and associations of men, and makes society possible. Unfortunately, “the Understanding strives to write out the whole vision in a Confession of Faith”, with the result that “Deity becomes more objective until finally flat idolatry appears”. This is what has happened in Christendom. “Its established churches have become old and ossified under the accumulation of creeds and usages” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, pp. 86–87, 89–90, 96–97). Yet skepticism is not inevitable. The Reason has a way of finding expression, no matter how much it becomes distorted by the Understanding. In this early lecture of Emerson’s we begin to see the reinvention of mysticism that Schmidt describes in his essay. Most importantly, the mystical experience is not restricted to a special class of persons focused on a supernatural reality distinct from normal, everyday reality. The revelations of the Universal Mind are available to all persons by virtue of the fact that there is “one Mind common to all individual men” (Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 5, p. 222). Nor is the mystical experience exceptional. It occurs along a continuum from “an extasy...to the faintest glow of virtuous emotion”. Furthermore, the Universal Mind is not transcendent, but immanent. “As long as the soul seeks an external God”, he wrote in his journal, “it never can have peace, it always must be uncertain what may be done and Religions 2017, 8, 75 5 of 18 what may become of it. But when it sees the Great God far within its own nature, then it sees that always itself is a party to all that can be, that always it will be informed of that which will happen and therefore it is pervaded with a great Peace”(Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 5, p. 223). For Emerson, God is not personal, but impersonal, and therefore is not to be found without, in some supernatural realm, but rather within, in human consciousness itself. In his first book, Nature, Emerson described an ecstatic experience he once had crossing the Boston Common at twilight: Standing on the bare ground,—my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space,—all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball. I am nothing. I see all. The currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental. To be brothers, to be acquaintances,—master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 10). This passage has attracted much attention, not all of it favorable. It was caricatured by fellow Transcendentalist, Christopher Pearse Cranch, in a sketch depicting Emerson the mystic as a long-legged eyeball. Some critics have found the description awkward and inauthentic. Patrick Quinn, as noted earlier, views the passage as evidence that Emerson was not a mystic on the grounds that the mystical experience is ineffable and therefore cannot be described, as Emerson has attempted to do. These criticisms notwithstanding, the passage has all the earmarks of what William James finds characteristic of mystical experiences. In his classic work on The Varieties of Religious Experience, James notes four attributes of mystic states. The first of these is ineffability. They cannot be adequately described because they are subjective states, more akin to feeling than intellect. Secondly, they have a noetic quality. “They are states of insight into depths of truth unplumbed by the discursive intellect. They are illuminations, revelations, full of significance and importance, all inarticulate though they remain; and as a rule they carry with them a curious sense of authority for after-time”. The third characteristic is that such states are transient. They are generally brief and cannot be sustained for very long periods of time. Finally, according to James, “the mystic feels as if his own will were in abeyance, and indeed sometimes as if he were grasped and held by a superior power” (James 1925, pp. 380–81). In the description of his experience on the Boston Common, Emerson tells us where it occurred and what it felt like. Ecstasy is his favorite name for such experiences, a word that means to stand outside of one’s self. This passage is a good case in point. Emerson loses his sense of self and feels alienated from others and his surroundings. He experiences a sense of elevation and of being pervaded by the “currents of the Universal Being”. Clearly, he feels moved by the experience and finds it deeply meaningful. As Emerson would say, it is a revelation of the Reason, not of the Understanding. As such it calls into question the validity of everyday experience. We don’t know the duration of the experience, though apparently it didn’t last long. Finally, it is evident from his description that Emerson felt he was a passive recipient of what transpired in his walk across the common. As we have seen, Quinn uses the passage to show that Emerson describes an experience that is held to be ineffable. But the point about ineffability is not simply that mystical experiences are difficult to describe, but, more importantly, that they are, as James points out, subjective in nature. Emerson’s account is clearly subjective. Another question to consider is whether or not Emerson had other experiences of the same kind. Was this experience an example of what Arthur Versluis, in his book, American Gurus: From Transcendentalism to New Age Religion, calls “immediatism”? Immediatism, Versluis writes, is “a claim that one can achieve enlightenment or spiritual illumination spontaneously, without any particular means, often without meditation or years of guided praxis” (Versluis 2014, p. 2). Versluis points to the same passage in Nature to show that Emerson’s mysticism is esoteric in the sense that it is open only to a few, and that the experience he had on the common occurred spontaneously and not as the result of any preparation on his part. As to whether or not Emerson’s mysticism is Religions 2017, 8, 75 6 of 18 esoteric, I would note, first of all, that Emerson himself did not think so. In “Inspiration”, one of his later essays, he wrote, “I hold that ecstasy will be found normal, or only an example on a higher plane of the same gentle gravitation by which stones fall and rivers run” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 8, p. 153). That is to say, ecstasy is not only normal but also natural. And, as we have seen in his lecture on religion, “every human being has access” to the revelations of the Universal Mind. In a letter to a friend, William James wrote, “I attach the mystical or religious consciousness to the possession of an extended subliminal self with a thin partition through which messages make interruption. We are thus made convincingly aware of the presence of a sphere of life larger and more powerful than our usual consciousness, with which the latter is nevertheless continuous” (Richardson and James 2006, p. 406). Like Emerson, James felt that everyone was capable of having a mystical experience even if, as James suggests, for some people the “messages” failed to penetrate that “thin partition”. Thus I would argue that there is nothing esoteric about such experiences. They are natural even if they are not common or ordinary, and many people have had them to some degree. It is impossible to say how many such experiences Emerson may have had, how often, or to what degree. The experience on the Boston Common may have been unique in its intensity, but it would be a mistake to believe he had no acquaintance with such experiences either before or after.1 His journals, lectures, and essays are replete with references to ecstasies. In the essays alone there are at least thirty-six of them.2 More importantly, Emerson was preoccupied, from the beginning to the end of his career, with developing a means of gaining access to such illuminations. As early as 1832 he noted in his journal a desire to develop practices “to solicit the soul”: How hard to command the soul or to solicit the soul. Many of our actions, many of mine are done to solicit the soul. Put away your flesh, put on your faculties. I would think—I would feel. I would be the vehicle of that divine principle that lurks within and of which life has afforded only glimpses enough to assure me of its being. We know little of its laws—but we have observed that a north wind clear cold with its scattered fleet of drifting clouds braced the body and seemed to reflect a similar abyss of spiritual heaven between clouds in our minds; or a brisk conversation moved this mighty deep or a word in a book was made an omen of by the mind and surcharged with meaning or an oration or a south wind or a college or a cloudy lonely walk...And having this experience, we strive to avail ourselves of it and propitiate the divine inmate to speak to us again out of clouds and darkness. Truly whilst it speaketh not, man is a pitiful being. He whistles, eats, sleeps, gets his gun, makes his bargain, lounges, sins, and when all is done is yet wretched. Let the soul speak, and all this drivelling and these toys are thrown aside and man listens like a child (Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 4, p. 28–29). He seems to suggest that a conversation, a book, or a “cloudy lonely walk” might prepare the mind for the reception of the “divine principle that lurks within”. Is the reference to the “cloudy lonely walk” perhaps a foreshadowing of his experience crossing the common? Contrary to Versluis’s contention that Emerson, as an example of “immediatism”, engaged in no spiritual practice, there is considerable evidence that, in fact, he did. In reinventing mysticism, Emerson also developed, through a process of experimentation, a discipline designed (though not guaranteed) to “solicit the soul”. It is in this respect that he advances beyond the Romantic poets, such as Wordsworth, who lamented the demise of the ecstasies of youth. The question for Emerson was, if religious truth is based in human consciousness and revealed in moments of epiphanic experience, as the Romantics asserted, then how, if at all, can these revelations be summoned and sustained? Implicit 1 Another one is described in a journal entry made on 11 April, 1834. (Emerson 1960–1982, vol. 4, p. 272–73) 2 According to the Concordance to the Collected Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Compiled by Eugene F. Irey. (Irey n.d.) Available online: http://concordlibrary.org/special-collections/emerson-concordance/ (accessed on 20 April 2017). http://concordlibrary.org/special-collections/emerson-concordance/ Religions 2017, 8, 75 7 of 18 in this question is the irony or paradox faced by every mystic; namely, if the experience comes by way of surrender, then how can one actively summon it? Emerson’s first sustained effort to outline a spiritual practice came in a series of lectures on “Human Culture” given in the winter of 1837–1838. The word culture was used in the sense of cultivation rather than refinement. As Emerson expressed it, “Culture in the high sense does not consist in polishing and varnishing, but in so presenting the attractions of nature that the slumbering attributes of man may burst their sleep and rush into the day” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, p. 216). Culture is the process of awakening these slumbering attributes to the Ideal, which is “the presence of the universal mind to the particular”. The means of Culture, he said, “is the related nature of man” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, p. 220). That is to say, human beings are part and parcel of the natural world. We have become estranged from this world and we must restore our relationship with it. Nature, he advised, will be our teacher and guide. The possibility of achieving enlightenment is predicated on a program for spiritual growth. For Emerson and the Transcendentalists, self-culture is the term they used for the practices they employed to this end. Realizing a kinship with nature is a prerequisite of Emerson’s program of self-culture. “We need Nature, and the cities give the human senses not room enough. The habit of feeding the senses daily and nightly with the open air and firmament, presently becomes so strong that we feel the want of it like water for washing” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, p. 275). A second prerequisite of self-culture is self-reliance. Our education is too much aimed at conformity. We should put off imitation as child’s clothes and assume our own vows, Emerson said. “[I]nstead of following with a mendicant admiration the great names that are inscribed on the halls of memory, let [the student] know that they are only marks and memoranda for his guidance...Let him know that the stars shone as benignantly on the hour of his advent as on any Milton or Washington or Howard” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, p. 228). There is thus no enlightenment by proxy. It cannot be gained at second hand, but only by trusting our own intuition. In discussing the culture of the intellect, Emerson made the familiar distinction between Reason and Understanding, or between intuitive and empirical ways of knowing. Reason is superior to Understanding, since it is by way of Reason that the individual mind receives the influx of the Divine Soul. Spiritual growth, he insisted, consists in abandoning one’s self to Instinct, or intuition. “True growth is spontaneous in every step. The mind that grows could not predict the times, the means, the mode of that spontaneity. God comes in by a private door into every individual: thoughts enter by passages which the individual never left open”. This observation raises, once again, the paradox of the mystical life. We seek enlightenment but cannot find it. It is only when we cease from striving that it comes to us. But it appears that the striving was an important part of the process. “But the oracle comes because we had previously laid siege to the shrine. It seems as if the law of the Intellect resembled that great law of Nature by which we now inspire, then expire the breath; by which the heart now draws in, now hurls out the blood,—the law of undulation. So now you must labor with your brains, and now you must forbear your activity and see what the Great Soul showeth” (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, pp. 250, 252). Emerson offered his auditors two practical methods for laying siege to the shrine. The first was solitude. “In your arrangements for your residence see that you have a chamber for yourself, though you will sell your coat and wear a blanket”. The second was keeping a journal. “Pay so much honor to the visits of Truth to your mind as to record those thoughts that have shown therein”. Of the two, solitude was especially important: The simple habit of sitting alone occasionally to explore what facts of moment lie in the memory may have the effect in some more favored hour to open to the student the kingdom of spiritual nature. He may become aware that around him roll new at this moment and inexhaustible the waters of Life; that the world he has lived in so heedless, so gross, is illuminated with meaning, that every fact is magical; every atom alive, and he is the heir of it all (Emerson 1961–1972, vol. 2, p. 261). Religions 2017, 8, 75 8 of 18 In the course of his lecturing and writing, Emerson added to this list of spiritual practices. In addition to solitude and journal writing, his regimen included contemplation, conversation, reading, walking, and plain living. We also know that he found inspiration in the religious texts of the near and far East. In the late essay, “Inspiration”, mentioned earlier, he returned to the theme of illumination and the means of achieving it. Nothing great or lasting can be accomplished without inspiration, but such insights are only occasional and brief. It comes to some but once in their life. “But what we want is consecutiveness”, he wrote. “’Tis with us a flash of light, then a long darkness, then a flash again”. Too soon we return to the mundane preoccupations of everyday life: This insecurity of possession, this quick ebb of power,—as if life were a thunder-storm wherein you can see by a flash the horizon, and then cannot see your hand—tantalizes us. We cannot make the inspiration consecutive. A glimpse, a point of view that by its brightness excludes the purview, is granted, but no panorama. A fuller inspiration should cause the point to flow and become a line, should bend the line and complete the circle (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 8, p. 152). Are such moods within our control? He wondered. If only we knew how to summon them. Noting that “in the experience of meditative men there is a certain agreement as to the conditions of reception”, he went on to list a number of practices conducive to the reception of inspiration. Perhaps in light of his advancing age, Emerson noted, first of all, the importance of health, exercise, rest, and willpower as necessary conditions. He went on to identify several practices he has found to be efficacious. Like his younger friend, Henry David Thoreau, he advised readers to rise early every day and “defend your morning” against unnecessary intrusions. He continued to find periods of solitude and walks in nature essential to inspiration. Certain locales, such as mountain-tops, the sea shore, and rivers and brooks may also stimulate the imagination. Conversation, at its best, he noted, “is a series of intoxications”: In enlarged conversation we have suggestions that require new ways of living, new books, new men, new arts and sciences. By sympathy, each opens to the eloquence and begins to see with the eyes of his mind. We were all lonely, thoughtless; and now a principle appears to all: we see new relations, many truths; every mind seizes them as they pass; each catches by the mane one of these strong coursers like horses of the prairie, and rides up and down in the word of the intellect. Finally, he recommended reading poetry and the classics as sources of insight and inspiration. He ended the essay with a couple of lines from The Excursion by Wordsworth, which he quoted a number of times in his journals over the years: “’Tis the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain”. Though rare and fleeting, and difficult to achieve, moments of illumination are the source and substance of spiritual truth for us (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 8, pp. 156–66). What, we may ask, was the point of these heights he sought to gain? What did he hope to achieve? The answer to these questions reveals additional ways in which Emerson’s understanding of mysticism differed from more traditional ones. The traditional answer to these questions is union with God in the supernatural sense of the word. Most mysticism is devotional in this respect. Henry Ware, Jr. was a former ministerial colleague of Emerson’s at Boston’s Second Church. He left Second Church for a position on the Harvard Divinity School faculty. He was a deeply spiritual person, and tolerant—to a point—of the views of those in the Transcendentalist circle. In an article on “The Mystical Element in Religion”, written for the Christian Examiner, a Unitarian periodical, in 1844, Ware offered a sympathetic view of mysticism from a Unitarian perspective. Mysticism had progressed from being a form of fetishism to a veneration of doctrine. With the advance of reason Religions 2017, 8, 75 9 of 18 we have reached the third stage of mysticism, not of outward objects or dogmatic mysteries, but of religious experience. “We have used the word mysticism in a wider than its usual signification, but what is mysticism but the striving of the soul after God, the longing of the finite for communion with the Infinite? And this the mind has sought in outward nature, in abstract speculation and doctrine, and in the depths of inward experience and the quiet of lonely contemplation”. The last, he wrote, is the only true form of mysticism. Although we may commune with God “through outward nature and our understanding, it is only through our affections and, and by virtue of spiritual alliance with him, that we can know anything of him with assurance”. At its best, mysticism cherishes faith, sanctifies nature, and “brings the soul near to God” (Ware 1844, p. 308ff.). Ware’s view of mysticism is a liberal Unitarian one, and was shared even by many of the Transcendentalists. It is enlightened and non-sectarian, but it is also devotional in that it envisions communion with a transcendent, supernatural deity, whether approached through nature, worship, or human consciousness. Emerson’s understanding of mysticism, on the other hand, is notable for its naturalism. It is not devotional. He does not envision a nearness to God because God is not a being separate from nature or himself. Emerson’s cosmology is monistic, not dualistic. Thus, for Emerson God is impersonal, not personal, and immanent in the world, not apart from it. Although he uses the word God, he devises numerous terms and phrases that qualify his sense of it. In his essay, “Circles”, for example, God is described as “the Unattainable, the flying Perfect, around which the hands of man can never meet” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 2, p. 179). As the title of his most famous essay on the subject suggests, the Over-Soul is his preferred term, derived perhaps from his reading of the Vedas. Even in this essay we encounter a number of synonyms, such as Supreme Critic, Unity, Highest Law, Wisdom, and the like. As for what these terms mean, there is no better definition than the one he gives in the essay: We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related; the eternal One. And this deep power in which we exist, and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are one. We see the world piece by piece, as the sun, the moon, the animal, the tree; but the whole, of which these are the shining parts, is the soul (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 2, p. 160). Emerson’s type of mysticism is distinctive in another respect also. He was familiar with the writings of a number of mystics, including Jacob Boehme, Madame Guyon, and Emanuel Swedenborg.3 In these accounts he recognized “a tendency to enthusiasm”, or ecstasy, but, thought they “failed by attaching themselves to the Christian symbol, instead of the moral sentiment, which carries innumerable christianities, humanities, divinities in its bosom” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 4, p. 55). In an effort to free ecstasy from sectarian associations, he describes it in naturalistic terms as a form of power. Power is a loaded term. Very often it suggests authority or control exerted over others. But in Emerson’s usage it means an energy or release of potential that is inherent in nature. “All power is of one kind”, he wrote in his essay on “Power”, “a sharing of the nature of the world. The mind that is parallel with the laws of nature will be in the current of events, and strong with their strength” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 6, p. 30). He first expressed this idea in his 1841 lecture on “The Method of Nature” delivered at Waterville College in Maine. “The method of nature”, he said, “who could ever analyze it? That rushing stream will never stop to be observed”. His depiction of nature is that of a rushing torrent, always changing and never stopping. It is a work of ecstasy, he insisted: “the spirit and peculiarity of that impression nature makes on us is this, that it does not exist to any one or to any 3 Emerson’s library contained Jacob Boehme’s Works (4 vols.); Madame Guyon’s Opuscules Spirituels and Thomas Upham’s Life and Religious Opinions and Experiences of Madame de Lu Mothe Guyon (2 vols.), and sixteen different volumes of Swedenborg’s writings. See (Harding 1967). Religions 2017, 8, 75 10 of 18 number of particular ends, but to numberless and endless benefit, that there is in it no private, no rebel leaf or limb, but the whole is oppressed by one superincumbent tendency, obeys that redundancy or excess of life which in conscious beings we call ecstasy” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, pp. 124, 126–27). For Emerson the health of the soul consists in its “being the channel through which heaven flows to earth, in short, in the fullness in which an ecstatical state takes place” therein (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 130). It is for this reason that he is always promoting abandonment and spontaneity. In ecstasy we are one with the course of nature. We feel the energy of the universe flowing through us. One of his favorite metaphors, repeated numerous times in his essays and journals, is “shooting the gulf”. It is hard to say where Emerson first encountered the phrase, but it is mentioned in Daniel Defoe’s Voyage Round the World (1725) and in Robert Southey’s Lives of the British Admirals (1834). As Southey expressed it, “To sail around the world was in the popular belief an adventure of the most formidable kind, and not to be performed by plain sailing, but by reaching the end of this round flat earth, and there shooting the gulf, which is the only passage from one side of the world to the other” (Southey 1834, vol. 3, p. 239). The expression suggests breaking out into something new, or crossing from one plane of existence to another. “Power ceases in the instant of repose”, Emerson wrote in “Self-Reliance”, “it resides in the moment of transition from a past to a new state, in the shooting of the gulf” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 2, p. 40). Emerson’s mysticism differs from traditional models in yet another important respect. He was aware, both from his reading of the mystics and his own personal experience, that ecstatic experiences are both infrequent and brief. And yet they reveal vital truths about nature and human life. He returned to this theme in his 1841 address, “The Transcendentalist”. Although delivered as a third-person account, it is clear that he was talking about himself when he said the following: It is not to be denied that there must be some wide difference between my faith and other faith; and mine is a certain brief experience, which surprised me in the highway or in the market, in some place, at some time,—whether in the body or outs of the body, God knoweth,—and made me aware that I had played the fool with fools all this time...Well, in the space of an hour, probably, I was let down from this height; I was at my old tricks, the selfish member of a selfish society. My life is superficial, takes no root in the deep world; I ask, When shall I die, and be relieved of the responsibility of seeing an Universe which I do not use? I wish to exchange this flash-of-lightening faith for continuous daylight, this fever-glow for a benign climate (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 213). Jacob Boehme says that he suffered “many a shrewd Repulse” in his struggle with that “powerful contrarium”, common consciousness. Madame Guyon describes frequent periods of alternating light and darkness (Underhill 1911, pp. 307, 458). (In more extreme cases, mystics feel a sense of great loss, a “dark night of the soul”, as the experience fades.) For Emerson, the alternation between these two modes of being—ecstatic rapture and everyday life—is an example of the polarity found in nature as a whole. Emerson described this theory in his address on “The American Scholar”: The great principle of Undulation in nature, that shows itself in the inspiring and expiring of the breath; in desire and satiety; in the ebb and flow of the sea, in day and night, in heat and cold, and yet more deeply engrained in every atom and every fluid, is known to us under the name of Polarity,—these “fits of easy transmission and reflection”, as Newton called them, are the law of nature because they are the law of spirit (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 61). While he acknowledged the undulation or alternation of mental states, he sought to achieve a balance in life between moments of illumination and mundane existence. In “The Transcendentalist” the polarity is referred to as double consciousness, two states of thought that stand in wild contrast to one another: The worst feature of this double consciousness is that the two lives, of the understanding and of the soul, which we lead, really show little relation to each other, never meet and Religions 2017, 8, 75 11 of 18 measure each other: the one prevails now, all buzz and din; and the other prevails then, all infinitude and paradise; and with the progress of life, the two discover no greater disposition top reconcile themselves. Yet, what is my faith? What am I? What but a thought of serenity and independence, an abode in the deep blue sky? Presently the clouds shut down again; yet we retain the belief that this petty web we weave will at last be overshot and reticulated with veins of the blue, and that moments will characterize the days (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1. pp. 213–14). Although Emerson realized that moments of illumination are few and far between, he found such moments to be of great significance. He also knew that they could not be summoned at will. Nevertheless, he believed that people could improve the odds of their reception through cultivating the soul. This he sought to do by engaging in the spiritual practices of self-culture. He thought that society would be enriched by those who were able to communicate the wisdom gained in such experiences—“the exciters and monitors; collectors of the heavenly spark with power to convey the electricity to others” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 216). But he never considered that illumination was reserved for a certain class of persons. In fact, he felt that everyone’s life would be elevated through “communication with the spiritual nature”. The biggest obstacle is “that the community in which we live will hardly bear to be told that every man should be open to ecstasy or a divine illumination, and his daily walk elevated by intercourse with the spiritual world” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 145). This is because daily life is lived on the level of the Understanding and not the Reason. We are accustomed to dealing with the everyday world in a practical, pragmatic way. We get up in the morning and go about our business thinking that this is the only reality there is. Because it is ordered according to the Understanding, society is materialistic and views nature as a resource to be exploited. Empirical ways of knowing predominate over intuitive modes of thought. It is for these reasons that Emerson felt our life, as we live it, is common and mean, and sought to find a proper balance between the realities of everyday life and the demands of the spirit, in the hope that, as put it in his 1840 Dial essay, “Thoughts on Modern Literature”, “that which was ecstasy shall become daily bread” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 10, p. 120). Emerson emphasizes the inner transformation that occurs as a result of viewing the world intuitively, through the eye of Reason. In this respect, he has much in common with Christian mystics and mystics of other religions. His mysticism differs from these traditions in that it is this-worldly and potentially accessible to all persons. He freed mysticism from its sectarian and institutional constraints and enabled us to see it as a universal element of human experience. It is hard to imagine, for instance, how William James could have written The Varieties of Religious Experience without the influence of Emerson and the Transcendentalists (Schmidt 2003, p. 284). Leigh Eric Schmidt examines the genesis and development of modern mysticism in Restless Souls: The Making of American Spirituality. Beginning with “the question of Mysticism” as a topic of discussion at a meeting of the Transcendental Club in 1838, Schmidt describes the process by which mysticism came to be seen as a timeless and universal form of religious experience (Schmidt 2005, chapt. 1). Although the process began with the Transcendentalists in the context of New England Unitarianism, Schmidt widens the scope of his survey to show the impact of the modern conception of mysticism on American religious life more broadly. In this paper I am particularly concerned with tracing Emerson’s influence within Transcendentalism and the Unitarian movement. Unitarianism is unusual, if not unique, in its openness to change, due in no small part to the influence of Emerson, who, in his 1838 address to the graduates of the Harvard Divinity School, rejected the primacy of institutions in favor of individual religious experience. “Meantime, whilst the doors of the temple stand open, night and day, before every man, and the oracles of this truth cease never, it is guarded by one stern condition”, he said; “this namely, It is an intuition. It cannot be received at second hand...There is no doctrine of the Reason which will bear to be taught by the Understanding” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, pp. 80–81). The emphasis on individual religious experience, as articulated by Emerson and the Transcendentalists, is a strand that runs throughout the history of Unitarianism Religions 2017, 8, 75 12 of 18 and accounts for the difficulty the denomination has had in establishing any lasting or binding creedal statement. The use of the term “mysticism” was used by successive generations of Unitarian and Unitarian Universalist religious leaders as a marker of religious experience more or less as Emerson defined it. One way of following this strand is to look, first of all, to the Transcendentalists themselves. Their renewed interest in mysticism led not only to a redefinition of the term itself but also to a search for exemplary modern mystics. They were inevitably drawn to consider if Emerson himself might be regarded as a case in point. Octavius Brooks Frothingham (1822–1895) was a younger member of the Transcendentalist circle. Trained as a minister, he served congregations in Massachusetts, New Jersey, and New York. His radical views led him to join in the formation of the Free Religious Association, of which he served as president from 1867 to 1878. He wrote biographies of several of the Transcendentalists and a history of the movement, Transcendentalism in New England, in 1876. In “The Mystics and Their Creed”, an article written in 1861, he asserted that mysticism is unique “to no sect of believers, to no church, to no religion”, but is common to all. “The mystic affirms the existence in man, of a separate faculty, which he calls the intuitive faculty, whose office is to gaze on the pure, abstract and ideal truth” (Frothingham 1861, p. 99ff.). Frothingham nowhere mentions Emerson in the essay, yet he frequently quotes from Emerson’s works, without attribution, to illustrate his points. James Freeman Clarke (1810–1888), a friend of Emerson’s and a fellow Transcendentalist, was more explicit on this point. Unlike Emerson, he remained in the ministry and became a respected leader in the Unitarian denomination. Following a long pastorate with the Church of the Disciples in Boston, he taught at Harvard Divinity School. He wrote a chapter on “The Mystics in All Religions”, in his 1881 book, Events and Epochs in Religious History. The mystical experience, he said, “is a state of the soul which transcends every act of reason or of faith, in which everything but God loses reality. He who has been in this state retains much of its influence afterward. He sees through the shows of things to their centre, becomes independent of time and space, master of his body and mind, ruler of nature by the sight of her inmost laws, and elevated above all partial religions into the Universal Religion” (Clarke 1881, p. 276). In his survey of mysticism, he named Emerson as one of two American mystics, the other being Jones Very. The Transcendentalists’ influence continued to be felt in the Unitarian denomination after the Civil War. Tensions had arisen in the denomination as it drifted increasingly in the direction of religious naturalism theologically. As the denomination struggled with a sense of identity in changing times, mysticism, in the Transcendentalists’ broadened definition of the term, was seen as a central feature of its identity going forward, in spite of the fact that it had aroused such controversy decades earlier. It was seen as a way of threading the needle between contested issues of religious doctrine, on the one hand, and outright skepticism, on the other. Charles Carroll Everett (1829–1900) was not a Transcendentalist. He had been a Unitarian minister before becoming professor and dean of the faculty at Harvard Divinity School. Although his field was New Testament studies, he also lectured on non-Christian religions. In 1874, he published an article on “Mysticism” in The Unitarian Review and Religious Magazine, in which he adopted the broader definition of the term given by Emerson and the Transcendentalists: The word mysticism, whenever properly used, refers to the fact that all lives, however distinct they may appear, however varied may be their conditions and their ends, are at heart one; that they are the manifestations of a common element; that they all open into this common element and thus into one another...Mysticism is the is the recognition of the universal element in all individual forms... All the greatest thinkers and seers of the world have been more or less imbued with it. Modern creed makers and creed holders may disown it; but the religious founders, those on whose mighty foundations the creed makers rear their shapeless and unsubstantial fabrics, wrought from the intuition and the inspiration of the mystical view of life (Everett 1874, p. 5ff.). Religions 2017, 8, 75 13 of 18 Unitarian Historian George Willis Cooke (1848–1923) wrote the first biography of Emerson, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings, and Philosophy, in 1881. He, too, had been a Unitarian minister, serving several congregations in the Midwest. He considered himself a student of Emerson and a Transcendentalist sympathizer. Emerson is a mystic, he asserted, and “is only to be understood when placed in the company of the great mystics of all ages, and his teachings compared with theirs”. Cooke recognized the fact that Emerson had redefined mysticism. “His mysticism has broken away from all sectarian and historic limits, and accepted the ground of universal religion. It has planted itself deeply and strongly on an ethical basis, has rejected mere feeling, and has displayed great practical wisdom. As a result, his mysticism is more in sympathy with the tendencies of modern life than that of any of his predecessors” (Cooke 1881, pp. 184–85). In “American Mysticism: The Spiritual Life”, an article that appeared in 1894, Cooke saw Emerson in a somewhat different light. Emerson was a mystic all right, but a bit too intellectual. “Had Emerson been more emotional, lived truly the life of the heart, he would have been the greatest of the Mystics” (Cooke 1894, p. 75). Cooke eventually left the ministry to devote himself to scholarship and writing. His book, Unitarianism in America, published by the American Unitarian Association in 1902, was for many years the standard text for a history of the denomination. By 1894, when the National Conference of Unitarian churches met to draft a new resolution rejecting any authoritative test of faith, the denomination was well on the way to a non-sectarian, post-Christian identity. The three major strands of Unitarian theology at the turn of the twentieth century were liberal Christianity, Transcendentalist idealism, and scientific theism. For some denominational leaders and prominent ministers the Emersonian emphasis on religious experience was the connecting link between the past and the future. William Wallace Fenn (1862–1932) was another Unitarian minister who left the parish to educate students for the ministry. After serving the First Unitarian Society in Chicago, he joined the faculty at Meadville Theological School, a Unitarian seminary. From there he went to Harvard Divinity School as professor of systematic theology and, later, dean of the faculty. In an 1897 essay on “The Possibilities of Mysticism in Modern Thought”, Fenn inquired whether mysticism “has any rightful place in modern thought,—whether it can naturally arise and thrive in the educated mind of to-day”. In a very Emersonian train of thought he concludes that if we believe that we are an integral part of nature and trust to the presence of God within, then we must conclude that God is everywhere in nature, “one life binding all together”. The intuitions of the mystic testify to “some direct relation between God and the soul of man”. He concludes with a tribute to Emerson’s influence: The great name of Emerson must occur to every American who writes of mysticism...His mysticism was not afterglow, but dawn-flush; and it is the duty and the glory of the present age to reveal in the new world of thought the richness and tenderness of devotion, the fullness of communion with God, which hallowed the old, to follow the shining laws till in their rounding course beauty, music, poetry and grace appear to gladden and sanctify our lives (Fenn 1897, pp. 203, 217). In 1903 the centennial of Emerson’s birth was celebrated with a host of programs in Boston, Cambridge, and Concord. Speaking at a program sponsored by the Unitarian Association held in Boston’s Symphony Hall, Harvard President Charles W. Eliot (1834–1926), addressed the topic, “Emerson as Seer”. Eliot did not claim that Emerson was a mystic, but he did acknowledge Emerson’s influence on religion. Emerson, he said, taught that religion was natural, not supernatural, and believed that “man is guided by the same power that guides beast and flower”. God was not a creator set apart from the world, but “the all-informing, all-sustaining soul of the universe”. He believed that revelation was natural and continuous. “For Emerson inspiration meant not the rare conveyance of supernatural power to an individual, but the constant incoming into each man of the ‘divine soul which also inspires all men’” (Eliot 1903, pp. 852–53). Eliot came from a prominent Boston Unitarian family and was the father of Samuel Atkins Eliot (1862–1950), who became the longest-serving president of the American Unitarian Association. Religions 2017, 8, 75 14 of 18 Francis Greenwood Peabody (1847–1936), too, left ministry for a teaching career, first at Antioch College and then at Harvard Divinity School. He is most noted for his close association with the social gospel movement in early twentieth century Protestantism. In an essay on “Mysticism and Modern Life”, he wrote—echoing Emerson’s “Divinity School Address”—that mysticism is the source of religion and that “to be content with an external, doctrinal, superimposed tradition instead of vital experience, is to live on a left-over faith”. He asserted that the “one American contribution to philosophy which by general consent is accepted as original, typical, and permanent [is] the consistent and confident mysticism of Emerson” (Peabody 1914, p. 469). His views on mysticism and his opinion of Emerson were perhaps influenced by an encounter he had with a German professor when he studied abroad as a student. In an undated sermon, “The Church of the Spirit”, Peabody recalled that the professor, learning that he was a Unitarian, remarked, “Ah, the Unitarians, they are mystics!” Peabody initially thought the professor’s comment strange, but soon changed his mind: Yet, in fact, his judgment was profoundly and demonstrably true. The Unitarians are mystics. They have contended for theological simplicity, they have contributed to Biblical interpretation; but the representative expressions of their habit of mind are to be sought, not in these fields of learning, but in their witness of the present life of God in the present life of man. It is a line of descent which has been, for the most part, overlooked, even by the eulogists of Unitarianism (Peabody 1925, pp. 12–13). Earl Morse Wilbur (1866–1956) is most noted for his scholarship and writing on the history of Unitarianism in Europe. His career began as a Unitarian minister. He played a leading role in forming the Pacific Unitarian School for the Ministry, now known as the Starr King School for Religious Leadership. For many years he served as professor and president of the school. In 1916 he authored a pamphlet for the American Unitarian Association entitled, “First Century of the Liberal Movement in American Religion”, in which he asked, “Can we find any word to interpret to us the present stage of the movement?” He noted that Francis Peabody had characterized the inner significance of the movement in terms of mysticism. “I have long felt, and have been glad to find others sharing the feeling”, Wilbur wrote, “that we have here the best interpretation we have ever had of what the Liberal Movement has come to, and of what it may hope in the future to realize more fully with every added year” (Wilbur 1916, pp. 24–25). In 1959, Alfred P. Stiernotte (1908–1972) edited a book, Mysticism and the Modern Mind, containing essays on mysticism, some of them written by prominent Unitarian ministers and philosophers. Stiernotte himself was a Unitarian who taught at the Theological School of St. Lawrence University, a Universalist seminary, before taking a position in the philosophy department at Quinnipiac College. In his own contribution to the volume, Stiernotte argued in favor of a dynamic, naturalistic, and humanistic form of mysticism, but with a cosmic dimension. “Emerson’s ever-recurring metaphor of man acting ‘in accordance with Nature’”, he wrote, “is closely related to what we are trying to say. It means his intuition that the potentiality of nature reaches its highest fulfillment in the potency of the human mind” (Stiernotte 1959, p. 188). Another contributor to the book was John Haynes Holmes (1879–1964), a Unitarian minister who for many years occupied the pulpit at New York’s Church of the Messiah, later renamed the Community Church of New York. While warning of the perils of fanaticism, withdrawal, and self-absorption, he found in mysticism “the highest and truest expression of spiritual faith”: Mysticism, in its true estate, is spiritual experience. It is therefore the beating heart of religion. Reason at its best is the interpretation and formulation of this spiritual experience. Its product is theology. Theology, like metaphysics, has its uses. One of these uses is not to serve as a substitute for religion. Yet the churches have persistently made this substitution and thereby wrought great ill. Religions 2017, 8, 75 15 of 18 There are many programs for the recovery of the churches. One assuredly is the recovery of mysticism. To supplant the theologian with the true mystic would save religion (Holmes 1959, pp. 17, 21). Henry Nelson Wieman (1884–1995) was an ordained Presbyterian minister, but later in life changed his religious affiliation to Unitarianism. For many years he was professor of philosophy and religion at the University of Chicago Divinity School. In his essay, “The Problem of Mysticism”, written for Mysticism and the Modern Mind, he wrote, “[Mystical] experiences have been excluded from awareness in great part precisely because the highly refined abstractions of Western culture cannot interpret them in any meaningful way. But cultural conditions have developed of such sort that this mass of data can no longer be excluded”. The value of such experiences is that they are transformative. The problem of mysticism arises when mystics claim that the experience gives them knowledge of God as set forth in the Western tradition. “This claim need not cause dispute if it is clearly understood that ‘God’ so used, is a symbol for a depth and wholeness of Being which no structure of knowledge can compass” (Wieman 1959, pp. 39, 33). Of all the contributors to the book, Lester Mondale (1904–2003) was the only one who wrote specifically about Emerson’s mysticism. Mondale was a Unitarian minister who considered himself a humanist. He was the only person to sign all three Manifestos of the humanist movement, in 1933, 1973, and 2003. He served several Unitarian congregations and at least one Ethical Culture Society. In his essay, “The Practical Mysticism of Ralph Waldo Emerson”, Mondale recognized that Emerson’s “mysticism was not mystic in the ordinary connotation of the word—the ultimate in seizure and god-apprehension of the adept”. It was an experience available and useful to all manner of persons. “Here in a sense was mysticism—not of the trance variety, but more in the form of a worldly daily habit of spectator contemplation which became a lifelong practice. The result was neither the extreme of exultation, a mystic union with oblivion, nor the prolonged spells of mystic aridity, but rather an amazingly sustained serenity that merited the adjective, beatific” (Mondale 1959, pp. 44, 52). Kenneth L. Patton (1911–1994) was a humanist who ministered to Unitarian and Universalist congregations. He was a prolific writer of poetry, hymns, and readings for worship. In his essay for the volume, “Mysticism and Naturalist Humanism”, Patton argued that human beings are creatures of nature. They possess no special faculties that enable them to perceive a spiritual reality beyond the material world. There is a “kind of experience which I would call mystical, and which is perhaps the same quality that others might interpret as spiritual and as providing contact with and knowledge of a realm above the physical, mundane order of everyday life”, he wrote. “But do we need to look outside of ourselves and the world about us for an accounting of such states of being? I cannot see why” (Patton 1959, pp. 78, 80). By the middle of the twentieth century religious humanism was in the ascendency in Unitarian churches. With the merger in 1961 of the Unitarian and the Universalist denominations, once again Emerson was viewed as a bridging figure. In 1975, Jacob Trapp (1899–1992), a Unitarian minister and poet, published an article in the Unitarian Universalist Christian magazine on “Ralph Waldo Emerson: continental divide of American Unitarianism”. Trapp indicated that there were two opposing poles in Unitarian Universalism, the Unitarian Christians and the Humanists, “but there is little creative tension between them”. He argued that a renewed appreciation of Emerson might bridge the divide. “There has been, and there is, a famine in our churches”, Trapp wrote, echoing Emerson’s “Divinity School Address”, “The world will never unite merely on programs. We need union on the deeper level of the inexpressible, ‘of the oneness of our being descending into us from we know not whence.’ And in our quest for such union, we as Unitarians can still look to Emerson for inspiration and insights” (Trapp 1975, pp. 37–38). On the 150th anniversary of Emerson’s “Divinity School Address”, the journal, Religious Humanism, devoted two issues to Emerson’s influence on liberal religion. Most of its contributors were Unitarian Universalist scholars and ministers, eight of whom were featured in these two issues. Paul H. Beattie (1937–1989) was a Unitarian Universalist minister and editor of the journal. “One person is primarily Religions 2017, 8, 75 16 of 18 responsible for modern Unitarian Universalism”, Beattie wrote. “Had he not lived, twentieth-century Unitarian Universalism might possibly never have emerged”. This, of course, was Emerson, whom Beattie credited with having pioneered an entirely new perspective for religion in America. Once considered heretical, his ideas were widely accepted among the Unitarians by the end of the nineteenth century. Since then, his writings have encouraged more people to become Unitarian than those of any other historical figure. Beattie described Transcendentalist philosophy as “a pan-spiritualism that allows each person to experience the divine according to the promptings of individual intuition and reason”. Emerson was largely responsible for articulating this point of view. “Because what Emerson felt, thought, and wrote was broader than the teaching of any other church or sect in western history, he forced Unitarians and Universalists to outgrow the concepts and forms of traditional religion” (Beattie 1988, pp. 57, 59, 63). When the Unitarians merged with the Universalists their statement of purposes was vague as to unifying principles, no doubt because of the diversity of Unitarian and Universalist theological opinion at the time. A commission convened shortly after the merger identified six theological positions within the newly formed denomination: liberal Christianity; deism; mystical religion; religious humanism; naturalistic theism, and existentialism (Robinson 1985, p. 175). By the 1980s there was increased diversity with the inclusion of feminist and pagan theologies, leading to an effort to craft a new statement of Unitarian Universalist Principles and Purposes. Once again, Emerson’s emphasis on religious experience could be seen in the formulation of the association’s statement, adopted in 1985. Along with the statement of principles was a list of sources from which Unitarian Universalists derive their faith. The first of these sources reads, “direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life”. It is a line that could have been lifted from Emerson’s “Divinity School Address” and reflects the radical reinterpretation of traditional religious categories which is now taken for granted, but when first formulated by Emerson and the Transcendentalists, opened the way to a new understanding of mysticism and spirituality and their role in personal religious life. As in the case of the sources statement just mentioned, the influence of Emerson and the Transcendentalists has largely been implicit rather than explicit. In recent decades, Unitarian Universalists, like many of their fellow Americans, have expressed a desire for a greater sense of spirituality in their lives. Many have turned to other religious traditions in search of the spirituality they seek: Buddhism, Creation Spirituality, paganism, goddess religion, and native traditions, to name only a few. Both the impulse and the encouragement to draw spiritual nourishment from these traditions are a result of the redefinition of religion and mystical experience wrought by Emerson and the Transcendentalists. And yet contemporary practitioners are largely unaware that there exists a uniquely and authentically Unitarian Universalist spirituality. Stirred to some degree by the scholarship of literary historians such as David Robinson, Robert Richardson, and Lawrence Buell—themselves Unitarian Universalists—there has been a revival of interest in Emerson and the Transcendentalists among the Unitarian Universalists. In 2003, the Unitarian Universalist Association celebrated the Emerson Bicentennial with a number of programs and publications, and an exhibition that traveled to various places during the year. Speaking at a bicentennial event at Boston’s First Church, Robinson acknowledged Emerson’s troublesome relationship with Unitarianism. Not only had Emerson broken with historical Christianity but he also criticized the churches. His perceived anti-establishment stance has been a sore spot with defenders of the denomination ever since. Nevertheless, Robinson observed, Emerson has had a continuing influence on the movement by virtue of his emphasis on religious experience. Transcendentalism was grounded in religious experience; it understood the cosmos as a holistic unity; it taught reverence for the natural world; and it affirmed the human capacity for right action. To begin with, Emerson advocated a religion based on . . . a core of undeniable direct experience. The mystical moment, the experience of the holy, the condition of self-transcendence...[pointing] to the phenomenon of the individual being Religions 2017, 8, 75 17 of 18 brought outside of herself, of being confronted with something awe-inspiring in its nature, that both transcends and includes the self (Robinson 2003). Finding the old religious terminology inadequate for expressing the nature of ecstatic experience, Emerson formulated new ways of communicating it. Transcendentalism wasn’t anything new, Emerson said, but rather “the very oldest of thoughts cast into the mold of these new times” (Emerson 1971–2013, vol. 1, p. 21). The emphasis on religious experience is central to Unitarian Universalism, and Emerson is still regarded as a major figure in Unitarian history. But the nature of religious experience as Emerson described it and the story of its continuing influence within the movement is less well known. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Beattie, Paul H. 1988. Unitarian Universalism’s Greatest Exponent. Religious Humanism 22: 57–64. Chai, Leon. 1987. The Romantic Foundations of the American Renaissance. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Clarke, James Freeman. 1881. Events and Epochs in Religious History. Cambridge: James R. Osgood and Company. Cooke, George Willis. 1881. Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings, and Philosophy. Boston: James R. Osgood and Company. Cooke, George Willis. 1894. American Mysticism: The Spiritual Life. Current Literature 15: 75. Delafield, John. 1847. Mysticism and Its Results: Being an Inquiry into the Uses and Abuses of Secrecy. St. Louis: Edwards & Bushnell. Eliot, Charles W. 1903. Emerson as Seer. Atlantic Monthly 91: 844–55. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1960–1982. The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by William H. Gilman, Alfred R. Ferguson, George P. Clark and Merrell R. Davis. 16 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1961–1972. The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by Stephen E. Whicher, Robert E. Spiller and Wallace E. Williams. 3 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1971–2013. The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by Robert E. Spiller, Ronald A. Bosco, Alfred R. Ferguson, Joseph Slate and Jean Ferguson Carr. 10 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Everett, Charles Carroll. 1874. Mysticism. The Unitarian Review and Religious Magazine 1: 5–23. Fenn, William W. 1897. The Possibilities of Mysticism in the Modern World. The New World: A Quarterly Review of Religion, Ethics and Theology 6: 201–7. Frothingham, Octavius Brooks. 1861. The Mystics and Their Creed. Christian Examiner 71: 199–229. Harding, Walter. 1967. Emerson’s Library. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia. Holmes, John Haynes. 1959. Mysticism. In Mysticism and the Modern Mind. Edited by Alfred P. Stiernotte. New York: Liberal Arts Press. Irey, Eugene F. n.d. A Concordance to the Collected Essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Available online: http: //concordlibrary.org/special-collections/emerson-concordance/ (accessed 20 April 2017). James, William. 1925. The Varieties of Religious Experience: A Study in Human Nature. New York: Longmans, Green, and Co. McGinn, Bernard. 2006. The Essential Writings of Christian Mysticism. New York: Modern Library. Mondale, Lester. 1959. The Practical Mysticism of Ralph Waldo Emerson. In Mysticism and the Modern Mind. Edited by Alfred P. Stiernotte. New York: Liberal Arts Press. Norris, Kathleen. 1998. Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Grace. New York: Riverhead Books. Patton, Kenneth L. 1959. Mysticism and Naturalistic Humanism. In Mysticism and the Modern Mind. Edited by Alfred P. Stiernotte. New York: Liberal Arts Press. Peabody, Francis G. 1914. Mysticism and Modern Life. Harvard Theological Review 7: 461–77. [CrossRef] Peabody Francis, G. 1925. The Church of the Spirit. Cambridge: Andover-Harvard Theological Library. Quinn, Patrick F. 1950. Emerson and Mysticism. American Literature 21: 397–414. [CrossRef] Richardson, Robert D., and William James. 2006. The Maelstrom of American Modernism. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. Robinson, David. 1985. The Unitarians and the Universalists. Westport: Greenwood Press. http://concordlibrary.org/special-collections/emerson-concordance/ http://concordlibrary.org/special-collections/emerson-concordance/ http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0017816000012529 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2921904 Religions 2017, 8, 75 18 of 18 Robinson, David. 2003. Emerson: Religion after Transcendentalism. Paper presented at the Emerson Bicentennial Observance at First and Second Church, Boston, MA, USA, May 7. Schmidt, Leigh Eric. 2003. The Making of Modern ‘Mysticism’. Journal of American Academy of Religion 71: 273–302. [CrossRef] Schmidt, Leigh. 2005. Restless Souls: The Making of American Spirituality. New York: HarperCollins. Southey, Robert. 1834. Lives of the British Admirals: With an Introductory View of the Naval History of England. 3 vols. London: Longman. Stiernotte, Alfred P. 1959. Philosophical Implications of Mysticism. In Mysticism and the Modern Mind. Edited by Alfred P. Stiernotte. New York: Liberal Arts Press. Trapp, Jacob. 1975. Ralph Waldo Emerson: continental divide of American Unitarianism. Unitarian Universalist Christian 30: 31–38. Underhill, Evelyn. 1911. Mysticism: A Study in the Nature and Development of Man’s Spiritual Consciousness. New York: E.P. Dutton and Company. Versluis, Arthur. 2014. American Gurus: From Transcendentalism to New Age Religion. New York: Oxford University Press. Ware, Henry, Jr. 1844. The Mystical Element in Religion. In Christian Examiner and Religious Miscellany. Edited by Alvan Lamson and Ezra Stiles Gannett. Boston: Crosby, Nichols, and Co. Wieman, Henry Nelson. 1959. The Problem of Mysticism. In Mysticism and the Modern Mind. Edited by Alfred P. Stiernotte. New York: Liberal Arts Press. Wilbur, Earl Morse. 1916. First Century of the Liberal Movement in American Religion. Boston: American Unitarian Association. © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.1093/jaar/71.2.273 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. 
work_bdcqwxxnybabzpebukndhqggda	----	Teaching the Reformations—Introduction religions Editorial Teaching the Reformations—Introduction Christopher Metress Samford University, 800 Lakeshore Drive, Birmingham, AL 35229, USA; cpmetres@samford.edu Received: 9 June 2017; Accepted: 12 June 2017; Published: 29 June 2017 Abstract: This introduction to the Special Issue “Teaching the Reformations” summarizes the volume’s essays and discusses the conference at which they were presented. Keywords: Reformations; Martin Luther; John Calvin; Protestantism; Catholicism; humanities; the liberal arts; pedagogy; core and general education curricula In October 2014, Samford University hosted its inaugural biennial conference on “Teaching the Christian Intellectual Tradition.” Drawing more than fifty scholars from thirty-plus universities, and supported by a generous grant from the Lilly Fellows Program in the Humanities and the Arts, “Augustine Across the Curriculum” was designed to help non-specialists teach the writings of Augustine more effectively in undergraduate core and general education classes. Anchored by plenary addresses from Peter Iver Kaufman and Kristen Deede Johnson, a selection of conference papers was published in a special issue of Religions in spring 2015, helping to disseminate the interdisciplinary insights of “Augustine Across the Curriculum” to a wider international audience. Building upon the energy and partnerships established at this conference, Samford developed a companion initiative: a biennial “Teaching the Christian Intellectual Tradition Summer Institute.” Led by faculty from the University Fellows Program, this week-long residential seminar met in June 2015 and focused on “Teaching Dante’s Commedia,” with more than a dozen faculty from the fields of history, classics, English, philosophy, and theology engaged in a close reading of Dante’s masterpiece. Both biennial initiatives—the conference and the summer institute—flow from a common conviction that Samford shares with many universities and colleges across the country: in this era of intense competition for resources, when the liberal arts are increasingly valued (or devalued) in terms of the “skills” and “measurable outcomes” they produce, it is more important than ever to support institutions and faculty committed to teaching the Christian Intellectual Tradition, and teaching it well. The papers gathered in this special issue represent the work of “Teaching the Reformations,” the 2016 follow-up to “Augustine Across the Curriculum.” As Eamon Duffy has recently noted, 31 October 1517 marks “the fifth centenary of one of the few precisely datable historical events that can be said to have changed the world forever” (Duffy 2016). Of course, that precisely datable event is not complemented by a precisely understood theological, political, and cultural legacy, and the challenges of teaching that rich and contested legacy to today’s undergraduates was the focus of the 2016 conference. In the conference’s opening plenary address, which also serves as the opening essay to this collection, R. Ward Holder reminds teachers of the Christian Intellectual Tradition to resist convenient narratives about the Reformations. In “The Reformers and Tradition: Seeing the Roots of a Problem” (Holder 2017), Holder acknowledges how, when faced with the theological and ecclesiological complexities of the era and limited time to explore them, faculty “will trot out a number of old chestnuts, because as we have found, the old ideas got to be old ideas because people liked them and could remember them.” Among these chestnuts, “We will talk about the three Reformation solas—sola fide, sola gratia, and sola scriptura. We will impress (or bore) our students by explaining the meaning of the ablatives and how that gives just the right amount of nuance to these formulae.” Moreover, “We will turn to the 17th century for a description of the Reformation—Ecclesia Religions 2017, 8, 120; doi:10.3390/rel8070120 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0002-0031-1947 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8070120 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 120 2 of 9 Reformata, Semper Reformanda—and consider that this was trying to capture a dynamism that sought to argue with the classicism of medieval Catholicism.” Finally, “At some point we will arrive at the difference between scripture and tradition” because, “although we know it not to be nuanced, we see great explanatory powers in bumper-sticker history.” Challenging “tradition vs. scripture” as a manner of distinguishing Protestants from Catholics during the early modern period, Holder’s essay argues instead for teaching undergraduates about how Reform movements exist on a “continuum of continuity with the medieval inheritance,” manifesting “genealogical and influential links across the eras.” Alert to how these movements negotiated the traditions they inherited from the patristic fathers and the medieval church, Holder pays special attention to Luther and Calvin, noting that their selective and intentional engagement with these traditions was not only a hallmark of their reforms but also, perhaps, a key to the survival and expansion of the new traditions they established (as opposed to, say, the Anabaptists, whose more thorough rejection of tradition put them at odds with the temporal realms of their day, making it much more difficult for their message to grow and spread.) Teaching these reform movements along a “continuum of continuity” with earlier church traditions relies on distinguishing carefully between “Traditions” (capital T) and “traditions” (small t). Borrowing this distinction from Yves Congar, Holder urges us to see “traditions” as “those habits of mind and pieces of received wisdom that the church constantly passes down to the next generation,” against “Traditions,” the “power of the Church, based on a conveniently oral source, to proclaim authority in a manner it saw fit.” For the Reformers, it was “Tradition” that was the problem, while “traditions,” which represented the “inheritance of the prior fifteen centuries,” were “the common birthright of Christians across Europe” and, rightly understood, were available to all. Clarifying this distinction has a threefold benefit. First, it “is simply better history”: access to fifteen centuries of church tradition “generally stood various reforming movements in good stead,” and to “argue otherwise involves historians in an attempt to bend history to justify doctrine.” Second, this distinction creates “a better typology of reform movements than some we presently use,” one which has “the increased value of being able to place all of the large ecclesiastical and ecclesiological reform movements of the era together” along a more nuanced continuum. Finally, this deeper understanding of the Reformers and tradition helps students to understand themselves better as “historically-situated” subjects who are living, like the Reformers were, in a “stream of tradition that helps to define them.” By examining what the Reformers did with “their mental and emotional inheritance,” our students not only come to know the Reformers better, but they also grasp more deeply their “own efforts at making progress on understanding the human condition.” In the conference’s other plenary address, G. Sujin Pak also asks us to reconsider the Reformers as historically-situated subjects. In “The Protestant Reformers and the Jews: Excavating Contexts, Unearthing Logic” (Pak 2017), Pak highlights the important task of understanding how Luther and Calvin developed their views of and teachings about Jews and Judaism within particular immediate contexts and specific theological frameworks. Acknowledging that this topic is “both ethical and personal . . . because it involves actual persons and actual bodies,” Pak nonetheless warns us against the “temptation to move immediately to ethical judgments” about the views held by Luther and Calvin. Instead, we must seize upon this fraught topic as an “opportunity for critical self-reflection,” embracing the “historian’s task” to “unearth the logic that drives any given person or group, regardless of the moral judgments one might feel compelled to make.” When we do so, we not only help undergraduates to understand better the “wider historical and intellectual landscapes” within which Luther and Calvin operated, but we also help our students to draw implications for the present about what Christian faithfulness might look like in response to “the other” in light of the long and troubled history between Christian and Jews. Noting that relations between Christians and Jews were always in flux—cycling through times of “peaceful coexistence” and “intellectual collaboration” against moments of “outright persecution”—Pak establishes that, for Christians, the “key point of tension” in their history with the Jews was the fact that “the vast majority of Jews, to whom the promises of the Old Testament were made, rejected Jesus Christ and the promised Messiah,” a rejection that Religions 2017, 8, 120 3 of 9 “threatened to undermine the legitimacy of the Christian faith.” On this point of tension, then, the Reformers introduced nothing new to the history of Christian-Jewish relations, operating within a “prior tradition of Christian anti-Jewish teachings and actions.” While this context does not excuse the Reformers, it is a “a point that should [not] . . . be lost upon us,” particularly in light of the secondary literature on Luther, some of which presents him “as the father of anti-Semitism, drawing a direct line from Luther to the Third Reich.” Perhaps because Calvin did not, like Luther, write treatises devoted specifically to the Jews or Judaism, his legacy is more ambiguous, with some scholars treating him as a “firm antagonist” of the Jews, yet others haling him “as one of the least anti-Judaic figures of his time.” Although Pak is attuned to the many socio-cultural contexts that contributed to how both men viewed Jews and Judaism, she places at the heart of her analysis the “centrality of biblical interpretation” and the Reformers’ defense of Scripture’s perspicuity. For Luther, Jews and Judaism were “a central concern . . . across his lifetime,” and his anti-Semitism developed in large part because he was defending a theological framework that rested on a “christological exegesis of the Old Testament and key reformational teachings that he genuinely believed were the perspicuous content of Scripture.” For Calvin, a theological framework was also at work in the development of his ideas about Judaism: because of his strong affirmation of the unity of the covenant, Calvin “read Jews of the Old Testament as participants in God’s eternal covenant”; thus, the rejection of Christ by contemporary Jews threatened to “endanger the very exegetical principles that Calvin maintained for the preservation of the perspicuity of Scripture.” In the end, Pak, like Holder, would have faculty and students draw lessons from this deeper understanding of a historically-situated Reformations. For Holder, that lesson goes to our own “situated-ness” as agents in a stream of inherited traditions that are always defining us. For Pak, that lesson goes to the heart of Christian identity in a pluralist world. Called always to proclaim and defend the faith, Christians would do well to remember the history of Christian-Jewish relations, and particularly the examples of Luther and Calvin, which can “demonstrate what can happen when Christians care more about the content of their defense than whether their method is ethical and faithful.” An ethical and faithful defense of the teachings of Scripture would not, in light of this history, be any less convicted; rather, such a defense would keep in mind always the difference between “to convert” and “to witness,” and in doing so recall that we must “let God do what God may with that witness,” holding to our convictions “in a manner consistent with the belief in a God who would die on a cross and take the sin and violence of the world onto God’s very own Self, precisely to end all violence and oppression.” This kind of Christian witness would draw deeply from a historical understanding of our fallen nature, resting upon a “profound humility” that is necessary for “negotiating truth communally with an openness to the image of God even in the ‘other.’” Complementing these plenary addresses, this special issue also contains eight additional essays, each one selected for how well it enriches the ways in which a key text, issue, or controversy from the Reformations can be introduced into the classroom. The first four essays cluster around Luther and Calvin, building upon the insights of the two plenaries while introducing new points of entry, and the final four essays expand beyond these two major figures to introduce new writers, as well as new hermeneutical and disciplinary issues. In “Martin Luther and Lucas Cranach Teaching the Lord’s Prayer” (McNair 2017) Bruce McNair examines how, in a diverse set of writings and sermons on the Prayer spanning a twenty-year period, Luther found “new ways to express his most fundamental theological principles, such as justification by faith alone, the alien and proper work of God, the corruption of the will and the hiddenness of God.” Particularly helpful to understanding this developing expression of principles are the Cranach woodcuts that Luther included in the Large Catechism of 1529. Intended to reinforce specific interpretations of the Prayer in the Large Catechism, Cranach’s woodcuts “also reflect the ways in which . . . [Luther ’s] interpretations of the Prayer changed as the historical context changed,” thus helping students to see that “Luther’s reforms were not static” and his teachings were responsive to political and historical developments. Moving systematically through six of the Prayer ’s seven petitions, and exploring how each of these six petitions are addressed Religions 2017, 8, 120 4 of 9 in the Large Catechism as well also other seminal works (beginning with An Exposition on the Lord’s Prayer for Simple Layman [1517] and concluding with A Simple Way to Pray [1535]), McNair provides a helpful way of tracing the development of Luther’s core theological principles, principles that Luther wanted to make “easily accessible to an audience of laypeople” and yet pertinent to specific historical circumstances (such as “the economic and social problems of the mid 1520s and the failure both of Protestant unity and reconciliation with the Catholics by the 1530s”). For Beth and Scott McGinnis, teaching Luther presents a different challenge. Like Pak, they are interested in Luther’s writings on Jews and Judaism, and they too call for a historically-informed approach. Acknowledging that using “morally or otherwise offensive materials in the classroom has the potential to degrade the learning environment or even produce harm if not carefully managed” (McGinnis and McGinnis 2017), the McGinnises urge professors to approach Luther’s anti-Semitism as an “opportunity for constructive dialogue.” To create this dialogue, they place Luther’s writings alongside two works by Johann Sebastian Bach, arguing that a proper contextualization of Luther and Bach within their historical moments can teach students to appreciate the ethical issues and insights raised by historical study. For instance, how do we address Luther’s shift from That Jesus Christ Was Born a Jew (1523)—where he expresses a “welcoming attitude toward Jews”—to the “thoroughgoing hostility” of On the Jews and Their Lies (1543)—which “stands as one of the most explicit anti-Semitic statements of the Reformation era, a period that had no lack of vitriol.” One way to do so is through a historically-informed reading that can account for Luther’s shift as “one of style, not substance.” Believing in 1543 that he was living in the last days, Luther “saw the enemies of Christ coalescing around him: the Jews joined papists, Turks, Anabaptists, and others as those who impeded the spread of the gospel and thus exposed themselves to the final, wrathful judgment of God.” From Luther’s perspective, then, the Jews’ “evangelical moment seemed to have passed, and he channeled what he believed was the divine disgust, using the most vituperative language he had at hand.” Additionally, professors can place Luther’s anti-Semitism against “the larger backdrop of processes by which societies established boundaries and maintained social control through the identification of the ‘Other.’” What these historically-informed readings cannot do, however, is “consider the weight of these texts as they come into our own age and classrooms” where students “encounter texts and ideas and understand them through their own interpretative contexts, and crucially, they do so in the presence of other students who may or may not share their context.” This challenge is made clear in the McGinnises’ discussion of Bach’s St. John Passion, a 1724 work composed on a libretto from Luther’s translation of John’s Gospel, a translation which “specifically identifies the people who taunt Jesus and cry out for his crucifixion not as the ‘crowd’ or ‘mob’ but as the ‘Jews.’” Exploring contemporary objections to the performance of the St. John Passion, as well as the role of historically-informed approaches to this work in Bach criticism, the McGinnises make a strong case for a two-fold approach to teaching potentially offensive materials: first, faculty must provide a proper historical context for understanding these materials and, second, they must clear a “space for students to consider and address the ethical questions that arise from the study of such works.” Students “inevitably make moral judgments,” and “bringing those judgments into the discourse of the classroom is the hard work of education, not without risk, but rich with potential benefits for all.” In “John Calvin and John Locke on the Sensus Divinitatis and Innatism” (Clanton 2017), J. Caleb Clanton outlines an exemplary strategy for teachers who want to place the concerns of the Reformers in dialogue with the larger Western Intellectual Tradition. Noting that “Reformed thinkers have long disagreed about whether knowledge of God’s nature and existence can be or need be acquired inferentially,” Clanton concludes that “they have nonetheless traditionally coalesced around the thought that some sense or awareness of God is naturally implanted or innate in human beings,” a position rooted firmly in Calvin’s influential discussion of the sensus divinitatis in the opening book of The Institutes of the Christian Religion. Juxtaposing Calvin’s “treatment of the naturally implanted awareness of God” with John Locke’s polemic against innatism in Book I of An Essay concerning Human Understanding, Clanton situates the Institutes among “the great canonical texts . . . [of the] early modern Religions 2017, 8, 120 5 of 9 period” and helps students to see some of the larger epistemological issues at stake for the Reformers, drawing their theological concerns into a more comprehensive interdisciplinary conversation. Moving systemically through the most helpful passages in Calvin and Locke (chapters 1–6 of Book I of the Institutes, as well as chapters 2 and 4 of Book I of the Essay), Clanton does not argue that Locke is responding directly to Calvin’s Institute; rather, it is Clanton’s contention that “reading Calvin in tension with Locke helps shed light on both thinkers, as it provides a useful framework for undergraduates to explore the limits of Calvin’s treatment of the sensus divinitatis, as well as the limits of Locke’s rejection of innatism.” Moreover, such an approach has “the historical pay-off of introducing students to two of the most towering Protestant figures of the Christian intellectual tradition,” as well as setting “the stage for a philosophical and theological inquiry of ongoing significance”: “Are we born blank slates, for example, and are all the contents of our minds derived of some sort of prior experience? Can we have knowledge of God’s existence, and if so, by what means? Can belief in God be properly basic? How should we interpret key passages in Romans 1 and 2? And so on.” Clanton is careful to acknowledge that scholars disagree as to the nature of Calvin’s innatism (is it more occurrent or dispositional?), and he understands that students will want to be told clearly “whether Locke’s polemic against innatism, in the end, poses a fatal threat to Calvin’s treatment of the sensus.” However, in this essay so attuned to effective teaching strategies, Clanton rightly concludes that “It remains, as it always does, for students to wrestle with these issues for themselves.” John MacInnis’s “Teaching Music in the Reformed/Calvinist Tradition: Sphere Sovereignty and the Arts” (MacInnis 2017) provides a fitting conclusion to the group of essays in this collection that cluster around Luther and Calvin. Like the McGinnises and Clanton, MacInnis wants us to place these Reformers in dialogue with post-Reformation texts and issues. In particular, he shares strategies for engaging students in a Reformed/Calvinistic vision of the arts generally, and music specifically. Grounding this vision of the arts in a series of lectures delivered by Abraham Kuyper in 1898, MacInnis asks his students at Dordt College, a confessional Calvinist institution, to form “their own opinions and to develop insights for living productively and faithfully as musicians and people invested in musical cultural, wherever God may call them.” In a team-taught core curriculum class populated by students from across the disciplines, MacInnis structures his allotted eighteen class periods around topics his students find most relevant: “music for films, television, and interactive media, popular music, and church music.” In addition to emphasizing such topics as “musical meaning and intertextual relationships, the craft of making music, musical form, and music’s functions in various settings,” he must also “keep clear for students the intent of the class and its purpose within the college’s core curriculum.” To do this, he repeatedly foregrounds the question, “Are we able to discern and articulate what God intends art and music to be in this good world, here and now?” This major question is complemented by two subsidiary questions: “(1) What does God intend for art and music in my life personally?; (2) What should be the place of the specialized artist in my community?” Essential to these questions is the concept of “sphere sovereignty,” which is “rooted in John Calvin’s own distinguishing between the powers of the church and the state, both free to assert appropriate authority within their own spheres.” According to MacInnis, sphere sovereignty should develop in students a “respect for diversity”—and thereby a respect for the field of “aesthetics”—because it requires them to acknowledge that “different arenas of human endeavor deserve space to do their work well” and “that care must be taken to preserve the integrity of each sphere . . . [so] that no sphere may impose its principles upon another . . . for they all exist directly under the rule of God.” Admitting that there are “different perspectives” in the Reformed tradition when it comes to specifying creational laws for artists, MacInnis does assert that, generally speaking, the tradition is “resolute in affirming our rootedness in the material world, the physical universe in which we are called to action and accountability,” and that, therefore, “artistic endeavor in this tradition is often a wrestling with material reality and our extraordinary existence as physical beings coram deo, ‘before the face of God,’ rather than a striving after an otherworldly, immaterial ideal.” To bring this idea home, MacInnis concludes with a song cycle entitled The God of Material Things, composed by recent Dordt graduate Religions 2017, 8, 120 6 of 9 Jonathan Posthuma, a work that helps his students to embrace “the comprehensive vision [of the arts] articulated in the Reformed/Calvinist tradition, a vision that allows believers to be faithfully engaged in every field of human endeavor because it presupposes that Christ is concerned with it all, even music.” The final four essays in this collection take the concerns of the conference in multiple and fruitful directions, appealing to faculty who teach across the liberal arts in disciplines as varied as theology, literature, and the sciences. In “Dirk Philips’ Letter and Spirit: An Anabaptist Contribution to Reformation Hermeneutics” (Schubert 2017), Aaron Schubert brings attention to a lesser-known figure who deserves greater recognition, one who “provides perhaps the most systematic explication of an Anabaptist hermeneutic of the Scriptures.” According to Schubert, Philips’ Enchiridion offers students a clear view of this hermeneutic at work, as Philips “reads all of Scripture to center on Christ and the Church, a reading established in the dichotomy of the letter and the Spirit of the text through a hermeneutic of obedience.” For Philips, Scripture “can be read for the meaning of the letter, as presented in the Old Testament, and the meaning of the Spirit, as presented in the New Testament.” The “meaning of the letter” represents “the historical reading,” taking the “events portrayed in the Old Testament as historical events recorded by men through the work of the Holy Spirit.” However, this reading for the meaning of the letter alone is “insufficient” because it “sees the types and figures without perceiving their object, the shadow but not the person” behind the Old Testament, who is Christ. According to Philips, because “all things are changed in Christ and are transfigured and made new by him, that is, changed from the letter to the Spirit,” a “letter reading” of the Old Testament, while not incorrect, is not what brings life to Scripture. Instead, as Schubert notes, what brings life is found only “in the Spirit reading,” one that “sees the symbolic and figurative reality of the Old Testament pointing forward to Christ and the Church.” For Philips, this “guiding hermeneutic allowed for both concrete, literal interpretations [of Scripture] as well as spiritual allegorizing, as long as the former were interpretations of the New Testament and the latter of the Old.” Reading Scripture in the letter of the Spirit is not, of course, the work of man but of the Holy Spirit, for only the Spirit can reveal how the figures of the Old Testament symbolize the reality of God’s full revelation, and not just human opinions about that revelation. However, as Schubert carefully notes, this position “merely raises a new question for many students”: “How can one know what is taught by the Holy Spirit and what is human opinion, either in one’s own reading or in the teaching of others?” Philips’ answer to this is a “hermeneutic of obedience,” in which the “origin of an interpretation, human or divine, is evidenced the person’s life.” For Philips, “the obedient life, which is also the work of the Spirit, is inseparable from a right understanding of the Word of God, which must be understood spiritually, not merely in its letter . . . .[and therefore] obedience is a necessary prerequisite to understanding.” As Schubert concludes, this hermeneutic, in “which the life of the interpreter plays a key role in validating his interpretation,” will be “unfamiliar to most students”; therefore, by recovering it, we introduce students to a “significant, if often forgotten, contribution of the Anabaptist theologians to the study of the Reformation and to later evangelical and pietistic movements.” For Christopher A. Hill, the forgotten legacy that needs recovering is the theological and ecclesiastical pamphlet warfare that erupted in Reformation England after the publication of Fields and Wilcox’s 1572 Admonition to Parliament. In “Spenser’s Blatant Beast: The Thousand Tongues of Elizabethan Religious Polemic” (Hill 2017), Hill focuses on the final two books of the 1596 edition of Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene. These two books are dominated by the presence of the Blatant Beast, a “formidable adversary” who, in Hill’s reading, “represents the worst excesses of [the] caustic and satirical rhetoric” that characterized these disputes, in particular the Martin Marprelate pamphlets and the flood of anti-Marprelate pamphlets that emerged between 1589 and 1591. Acknowledging that the 1596 Second Part of The Faerie Queene appeared “far too late to serve as a direct intervention into the specific controversy to which it seems to refer,” Hill argues that “the discursive and rhetorical concerns highlighted by the brief Martinist pamphlet warfare are very much on Spenser’s mind”; thus, teachers of Elizabethan history and culture “can profitably use Spenser’s allegorical method” to Religions 2017, 8, 120 7 of 9 draw links between the excesses of the Blatant Beast and “the burgeoning market for cheaply printed religious polemic.” Like many of his contemporaries, Spenser believed these polemics did more to regenerate themselves and their own rhetorical excesses than they managed to resolve disputes. Alerting students to Spenser’s “heavily allegorized presentation of polemic and pamphleteering in the figure of the Blatant Beast—and the travails of the Knights of Justice and of Courtesy in bringing the beast to heel”—can help to illustrate not only the degradation of this public discourse but also “Spenser’s call for the timely application of ‘well guided speech’ as the solution to these reckless disputes.” For Spenser, “immoderate language,” no matter the theological or doctrinal motivation behind it, “forecloses the possibility of any meaningful resolution” to such disputes, and the “repeated use of harsh invective, satire, and mockery can only break the communal bonds that make a church possible in any sense, regardless of the particularities of theological controversy.” Ultimately, it is the “social virtue of courtesy,” represented by Calidore, that Spenser champions. As a “combination of so many other virtues,” courtesy necessarily generates “moderate and apt speech,” providing a remedy to “profitably counter and even overcome the grievous proliferation of vain and destructive speech” that prevented the church from becoming one body. In “Reformation Leads to Self-Reliance: The Protestantism of Transcendentalism” (Griffis 2017), Rachel B. Griffis also demonstrates the value of using literary works to teach the complex and expansive legacy of the Reformations. According to Griffis, nineteenth century American literature “reflects the far-reaching effects of the sixteenth century European Reformation, which distantly yet significantly inspired the literature of the United States to function as a moral voice in the lives of the people.” Through figures such as William Ellery Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson, who “idealized literature as the conduit for the values and concepts of individualism, freedom, and self-government,” early American literature became a “powerful agent for Protestantism,” finding its “best expression [in] . . . contemporary iterations of self-reliance.” Beginning with Channing’s and Emerson’s readings of John Milton, Griffis shows how a distinct literary tradition developed by combining “Protestant-inflected ideals” with “American principles.” In particular, Channing and Emerson interpreted Milton as “an apostle of freedom,” an interpretation that complemented their “high view of human nature, . . . [which] they believed had its roots in the Protestant cause, but had been obstructed by Calvinism in America.” Moreover, for Emerson, “perhaps the most studied and influential of the transcendentalists,” the Protestant Reformation and the American Revolution were “steps in the path to self-reliance, the ultimate form of human freedom.” It is not surprising, then, that having embraced this view of the promise of the Reformation, “many American writers in the nineteenth century viewed themselves as stewards of Protestantism in the New World and not necessarily apostates who sought to liberate others from religion.” This sense of stewardship led, in turn, to a growing emphasis in the latter half of the nineteenth century on a “right of private judgment” in both the sacred and secular spheres, a logical development of our nation’s “Emersonian Protestantism” of self-reliance. Attuned to how this vision continues to shape American cultural and intellectual life, Griffis concludes by reminding us how this fully-internalized legacy of self-reliance presents pedagogical challenges, particularly when faculty want to introduce students to a different kind of “moral language.” In an environment that encourages students, when they interrogate texts, to above all else “arrive at their own interpretations and thus their own beliefs,” teachers will necessarily have a difficult time communicating “with their students about . . . moral traditions to which they may be indocile.” In the collection’s final essay, Josh A. Reeves broadens the conversation beyond the disciplines and legacies previously addressed. In “How Not to Link the Reformation and Science: Reflections on Brad Gregory’s The Unintended Reformation”(Reeves 2017), Reeves focuses on Gregory’s opening chapter, offering two critiques of its thesis about the Reformation’s influence on modern secular science. While acknowledging that The Unintended Reformation is a “work of enormous scope and scholarship” and makes a profound case for “why we all, secular and religious alike, should study the Christian intellectual tradition,” Reeves takes issue with Gregory’s argument that “the real blame for the rise of secular science lies with [the influence of] medieval philosophy” on the Reformers, in particular Religions 2017, 8, 120 8 of 9 the influence of Duns Scotus and William of Ockham. For instance, according to Gregory, Scotus rejected Aquinas’s “analogical metaphysics of creaturely participation in God,” paving the way for an “’antisacramental’ view of nature, because the natural and supernatural cannot be active at the same time in the same event.” By bringing God “down to the same ontological order as the created world,” Scotus made it easier “to exclude God from explanations of the natural world.” The Reformers “inherited from Scotus these inferior metaphysical beliefs about God,” and when the “intractable theological disputes of the Reformation” proved to be “unsolvable theological disagreements,” these inferior metaphysical beliefs began to have “toxic effects.” In the end, “Unable to conceive of God as working through natural causes, disenchantment became the only option when empirical science was unable to discover God’s action in the world.” Unfortunately, Reeves claims, the “real difficulty with Gregory’s narrative is how little historical evidence he gives for it.” Lacking primary sources to back up its claims, and ignoring historical studies that refute the widespread influence of Scotus’ metaphysics on Reformed orthodox thought, Gregory’s argument simply “repackages a traditional Catholic metanarrative which blames Christianity’s problems on a deviation from the metaphysical scheme of Thomas Aquinas.” Moreover, according to Reeves, Gregory never makes it clear why a “mechanistic philosophy of nature should be equated with excluding God from the natural world,” ignoring the fact that “many . . . early advocates [of this philosophy] had strong theological reasons for supporting it.” Finally, Gregory is “overly optimistic” that Thomist metaphysics “could have resolved the major tension between science and Christianity, or could have headed off the rise of naturalism.” Because The Unintended Reformation is “a deeply pessimistic book, attributing most of modern ills to the Reformation,” Gregory is unwilling to consider “a more positive account of the way Christianity encouraged the rise of science,” such as the fact that the “Reformers’ literalism denied the symbolic capacity of objects to refer beyond themselves, which became a necessary ingredient of the Scientific Revolution,” or the way that “Reformed presuppositions can also be detected in the advocacy of experimental approaches to natural knowledge, where persons like [Francis] Bacon and Robert Boyle argued that the effects of original sin required a cautious, experimental approach to nature.” In a fitting conclusion to both his essay and to this special issue, Reeves reminds us that as “inheritors and teachers of the Christian intellectual tradition,” we are stewards of a rich legacy, one we are not only called to teach, but to teach well, and faithfully. The challenge, of course, is that the legacy we have inherited is as contested as it is rich, making our calling more difficult, but all the more important. It is my hope that the essays in this collection can offer some insights, and perhaps some inspiration, as we continue to take up the challenge. Acknowledgments: The author expresses appreciation to the following individuals who assisted with the preparation of this volume: Karl Aho (Tarleton State University), Charlotte Brammer (Samford University), Caleb Clanton (David Lipscomb University), Walker Cosgrove (Dordt College), Peter Dykema (Arkansas Tech University), Steven Epley (Samford University), Rosemary Fisk (Samford University), Maria Poggi Johnson (University of Scranton), Peter Iver Kaufman (University of Richmond), Beth McGinnis (Samford University), Scott McGinnis (Samford University), Matt Moser (Loyola University Maryland), Jonathan Murphy (Texas A&M International University), Robert Olsen (University of Mobile), Bridget Rose (Samford University), Ken Roxburgh (Samford University), Dennis Sansom (Samford University), Bradley Sickler (University of Northwestern, St. Paul), Timothy Sutton (Samford University), and Bryan Whitfield (Mercer University). Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Clanton, J. Caleb. 2017. John Calvin and John Locke on the Sensus Divinitatis and Innatism. Religions 8: article 27. [CrossRef] Duffy, Eamon. 2016. The End of Christendom. First Things: A Journal of Religion and Public Life no. 267: 51–57. Griffis, Rachel B. 2017. Reformation Leads to Self-Reliance: The Protestantism of Transcendentalism. Religions 8: article 30. [CrossRef] Hill, Christopher A. 2017. Spenser’s Blatant Beast: The Thousand Tongues of Elizabethan Religious Polemic. Religions 8: article 55. [CrossRef] http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8020027 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8020030 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040055 Religions 2017, 8, 120 9 of 9 Holder, R. Ward. 2017. The Reformers and Tradition: Seeing the Roots of the Problem. Religions 8: article 105. [CrossRef] MacInnis, John. 2017. Teaching Music in the Reformed/Calvinist Tradition: Sphere Sovereignty and the Arts. Religions 8: article 51. [CrossRef] McGinnis, Beth, and Scott McGinnis. 2017. Luther, Bach, and the Jews: The Place of Objectionable Texts in the Classroom. Religions 8: article 53. [CrossRef] McNair, Bruce. 2017. Martin Luther and Lucas Cranach Teaching the Lord’s Prayer. Religions 8: article 63. [CrossRef] Pak, G. Sujin. 2017. The Protestant Reformers and the Jews: Excavating Contexts, Unearthing Logic. Religions 8: article 72. [CrossRef] Reeves, Josh A. 2017. How Not to Link the Reformation and Science: Reflections on Brad Gregory’s The Unintended Reformation. Religions 8: article 83. [CrossRef] Schubert, Aaron. 2017. Dirk Philips’ Letter and Spirit: An Anabaptist Contribution to Reformation Hermeneutics. Religions 8: article 41. [CrossRef] © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8060105 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040051 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040053 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040063 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8040072 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8050083 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8030041 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. 
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work_bfc2wtddy5aa3exlloy6i3tuye	----	Charged Moments: Landscape and the Experience of the Sacred among Catholic Monks in North America religions Article Charged Moments: Landscape and the Experience of the Sacred among Catholic Monks in North America Jason M. Brown Faculty of Environment and Department of Humanities, Simon Fraser University, Burnaby, BC V5A 1S6, Canada; jason.minton.brown@gmail.com Received: 30 November 2018; Accepted: 24 January 2019; Published: 29 January 2019 ���������� ������� Abstract: In light of calls to ‘re-enchant’ the world in the face of our ecological crisis, where do Christians stand on the question of land being sacred? I put this question to monks living at four monastic communities in the American West. For monks living on the land, the world is sacramental of God’s presence. However, this sacramental character was not universally recognized as being sacred, or divine. The monastic presence on the land can give places a sacred character through their work and prayer. Far fewer monks admitted that land was intrinsically sacred. However, during what one monk called “charged moments” the sacredness of God was seen as manifesting through the land. Thus, while there is no consensus among monks as to the sacredness of land, there is a deep reverence for place and landscape at the heart of monastic spirituality. Keywords: religion; monasticism; sacred places; landscape; religion and ecology 1. Introduction The March rain was holding off, even as dark clouds threatened, but Brother Salvatore1 and I decided to do the interview on foot anyway. We exited the north side of the cloister, and chatted as I adjusted my microphone and clipped it to my left shoulder. We entered the closed-canopy Douglas fir forest that had been planted, maintained, and carefully harvested by the monks of Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey since their arrival in Western Oregon in the early 1950s. As we walked, we passed a rather large, quaint, statue of Jesus who stood with open arms at the head of the trail, seeming to welcome us into the woods. We immediately began to climb the steep grade that dominates the eastern half of the property. Brother Salvatore and I had ambitions to hike to the small brick shrine dedicated to the Virgin of Guadalupe at the very top of the monastery’s property. She had been the patroness of the monastery the monks had originally founded in New Mexico, and travelled with them to Oregon when they decided to give up on farming in the desert. Brother Salvatore had a soft demeanor, and a sharp intelligence, and as we walked and talked, he pointed out a section of the trail that he said had always felt particularly sacred to him though he was not sure why. We walked and talked at a moderate pace. When we got winded from climbing the steep slope, we would stop to look up into the canopy, down at a beetle, or muse at a lethargic rough-skinned newt. On my mind was a line of reasoning within contemporary environmental discourses of the ‘Deep’ variety. One strategy of cultural shift toward sustainability is the project of “re-enchantment” of the earth as a sacred entity. Under widespread modernism and secularization, the world has lost its mysterious, sacred value and character, and in order to save it, we must look deeper than technological 1 I have used pseudonyms for all of the monks throughout this paper from the novel The Name of the Rose by Umberto Echo. Religions 2019, 10, 86; doi:10.3390/rel10020086 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://www.mdpi.com/2077-1444/10/2/86?type=check_update&version=1 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel10020086 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2019, 10, 86 2 of 9 fixes, toward a spiritual paradigm shift that revalues the earth as sacred in and of itself. We will not save something we do not love the argument goes, and the effect of this shift will impact how we interact with the earth community. Religion is an ally in this shift, but so too is a broadly defined spiritual ecology movement that blends science, Deep Ecology and ecocentric ethics (Taylor 2009; Curry 2011). Walking and talking with over 50 monks from four monastic communities located in the American West, I wanted to know how they experienced the sacred. Each community inhabited between 400 and 1300 acres, and each came from a monastic lineage that saw rootedness to place as a central part of their path to God. But was the land sacred? In this essay, I will describe how Roman Catholic monks living in the American West experience land they have taken vows never to leave. My overall project was interested in the meaning and relationality monks develop with place over time. However, in this particular essay I focus on one aspect of this overall interest: how monks responded to the question of whether or not land was sacred. Due to their various theological positions, there is no one monastic approach to sacred place and landscape; reflections are diverse and still evolving. Most of the monks saw land as sacramental of God’s creative power rather than sacred in and of itself. Others saw sacredness as a product of their consecrated presence on the land, their work and prayer. However, when the sacred was experienced through land, it often manifested itself at unpredictable times and places, rather than a fixed site or shrine. These ‘charged moments’, as one monk called them, are a component of the lived, embodied experience of contemporary monastic dwelling, wherein the land participates in the sacred through particular spiritual experiences that reveal God’s mysterious presence to the monks. 2. Methods Because of their focus on land-based livelihoods and spirituality, this study focused on Benedictine and Trappist Roman Catholic monastic communities. There are approximately 21 monasteries of these orders living in the American West. The study did not include any Anglican, Carmelite, cloistered Franciscan, Dominican, Brigidtine, Norbertine, Oriental, or Eastern Orthodox communities in order to maintain consistency. I spent approximately 10–15 days as a participant observer/monk at four monastic communities located in the American West and Southwest between December 2015 and April 2016. The monastic communities that participated in this study were: New Camaldoli Hermitage on the Big Sur Coast; Our Lady of Guadalupe Trappist Abbey in Carlton, Oregon; New Clairvaux Trappist Abbey in Vina, California; and, Christ in the Desert Benedictine Abbey in Abiquiu, New Mexico. The four communities visited in this study were selected based on the criteria that they own and manage land which was in some way integrated into their spirituality or livelihoods. The communities tended to focus primarily on contemplative monasticism, rather than other ministries (also known as apostolates) such as universities, seminaries, or hospitals. None of the monasteries were sought out for a particular approach to land management or environmental focus, however. Recruitment was conducted via email invitation. The four monasteries in this study each responded positively to an invitation to participate in the study. Though I was initially interested in comparing male and female communities, I decided against visiting women’s monasteries because of the limitations posed to my primary method of participant observation within such communities. I conducted walking interviews with voluntary able-bodied participants and the rest were conducted as sitting interviews due to age or time constraints on the part of the monks. I conducted approximately 50 interviews that lasted between 40 and 90 min. My interview transcripts were then coded using simple categories and subcategories that were anticipated in my research questions, and created based on patterns within the interviews. I paid particular attention to references to the environmental movement, the monastic tradition, biblical and spiritual symbolism, stories and memories, references to work, and moral lessons. For this particular essay, I focused on responses the monks gave to my question of whether or not land was sacred in their theological frame of reference or experience. Religions 2019, 10, 86 3 of 9 3. Background: Landscape and the Sacred The Latin root for the word sacred is sacrare. In its conventional sense, sacred means to set apart, usually for religious purposes, and emerged from the sacred groves and temple precincts of the cults of the Greek and Roman pantheons. This polytheistic notion that certain deities had dominion over particular areas of land is almost universal among pre-Christian European paganism. In Roman religion, the Genius Loci, or, the ‘spirit of the place,’ was venerated, consulted, or at the very least revered as an unquestioned reality. Collective associations built shrines or temples to these spirits, and with the rise of the Roman Emperor, the Genius eventually became the protective spirit of the entire Roman Empire (Brisch 2008). Mostly, however, local gods and goddesses were associated with specific places or ecologies such as springs, wells, mountains, groves, the sea, caves, to name only a few sites. In other words, sacredness was located in a particular locale, set apart for religious purposes. However, the sense of these places was not always affection or fondness, but could just as easily be fear, dread, and awe (Tuan 2013). Asserting that the land is sacred is not as straight forward a task from an orthodox Christian perspective. The heresy of pantheism, in which God is assumed to be the same as or coterminous with the world, has always been a thorn in the side of theologians who wish to keep God and the world at a distance. However, Christianity, especially in its Orthodox and Catholic varieties, has always held certain locations up as sacred or holy. The Holy Land, where Jesus lived and died, particular grottos, wells, mountains, hermitages, or shrines to the saints and their relics are also held to be sacred in their relation to God (Inge 2003). In the 20th century, however, Christianity has also been at the center of blame for the burgeoning ecological crisis (White 1967). As historian of technology Lynn White Jr. wrote, Christianity’s insistence on the separation between God and the world led to the disenchantment of the world, and our ability to see the world as a material object gifted to humanity by God for our well-being. One proposal for shifting our cultural relationship to the earth has broadly called for the “re-enchantment” of our relationship to the earth, wherein we must reclaim a sense of the earth’s sacredness in order to be better motivated to preserve and protect its vulnerable ecosystems. For Sufi activist and spiritual ecologist Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee, the environmental crisis is not a technical problem but a moral-ethical one: The world is not a problem to be solved; it is a living being to which we belong. The deepest part of our separateness from creation lies in our forgetfulness of its sacred nature, which is also our own sacred nature. We are all part of one, living spiritual being. (Vaughan-Lee 2013, pp. i–ii) The origins of this process in the West lie with Transcendentalists Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, who saw that nature was a kind of material symbol of spiritual truths. Wilderness, places perceived to be devoid of human cultivation and modification then became the new sacred groves (Gatta 2004). In addition, the spiritual implications of James Lovelock’s Gaia Hypothesis, and an increasing commitment to ethical ecocentrism, have continually emphasized the idea that the earth is sacred and that the human attitudes toward her should be one of reverence. Proposed by James Lovelock, the Gaia Hypothesis, after the Greek goddess of the earth, suggested that the earth acts like a super-organism which naturally regulates the planet’s conditions so as to maintain optimal conditions for life. While Lovelock himself never proposed that the earth was divine, his ideas quickly spread into more spiritual circles which took up his scientific claims as evidence for more metaphysical or ecospiritual ones (Lovelock 2000; Taylor 2009). For advocates of ecocentrism as a normative ethic, this means that nature is sacred because it is the ultimate source of our value, being, and of life as we know it (Curry 2011). Shifting our understanding toward an earth that is a sacred being to whom we belong could motivate more of us to act in defense of the destruction of the earth and its fragile ecosystems. Religions 2019, 10, 86 4 of 9 In Christianity, the field of ecotheology has sought to show that while God is ultimately transcendent, God as creator and sustainer of the universe is also immanent to the world. This is assumed based on the Trinitarian nature of God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Building on the incarnational nature of Jesus, theologian Sallie McFague argues that our models for God matter, and that shifting our understanding of God away from a heavenly king would help heal our relationship to the earth. For McFague, the material world can be seen as God’s body and thus sacred in and of itself (McFague 1993). Others have sought to engage the findings of science over the last 200 years as a sacred narrative of its own. Cultural Historian Thomas Berry (1914–2009) has called on Christianity to pay closer attention to the findings of science, so that our universe story can become a kind of sacred myth. One of the major events in the Christian environmental movement in recent years has been the release in the summer of 2015 by Pope Francis of an Encyclical Letter that addresses environmental issues. Laudato Si: On Case for our Common Home is the most extensive and significant contribution to official Catholic environmental teachings and calls for an “Integral Ecology” in response to climate change and the ecological crisis. Francis uses Catholic social teaching to show that there is an intimate connection between caring for the poor and caring for the earth. In addition, he notes that the earth is not just a means to human ends, but possesses its own dignity and worth independent of its use to human beings (Francis 2015). In addition to the many essays and defenses being made around Christian ecological theology, the long history of Benedictine monastic spirituality is being retrieved as an example of an alternative approach to the environment by Christianity. For example, in Sara McFarland Taylor’s book Green Sisters, she finds that many orders of Catholic Nuns and Sisters are creatively engaging both their own religious traditions and the wider environmental movement by adopting certified organic gardening, erecting green buildings, transitioning to renewable energy, conducting habitat restoration and protection. They are also adapting and experimenting with new liturgical styles and rituals that celebrate the seasons of the year, or the history of the universe as told by science (Taylor 2007). 4. Findings: Monastic Sacred Place and Landscape Speaking with monks about the meaning of sacred, there was, of course, a consensus that God was sacred, or that the Eucharist, the consecrated presence of God in the form of bread and wine consumed during daily Mass, was sacred. In addition, for a majority of the monks I spoke with almost every aspect of land, sky, water, creature, and soil was capable of invoking a spiritual lesson, or was a potential icon of God’s presence. However, to the question of whether or not land is sacred, a majority of the monks felt more comfortable asserting that land was sacramental, rather than itself divine. This means that land as creation can reveal something of God’s mark as Creator. None of the monks venerated or worshipped the many beautiful places on their property, and only a few spoke of specific places that were perhaps more sacred than other locales. For a majority of monks, encounters with the sacred were not bounded by certain locales. Sitting with Brother Ubertino of Christ in the Desert in his office, I asked if he thought the land he lived on was sacred. He sat for a while, and then drew out the question, testing his own assumptions against it, but ultimately not willing to say one way or the other whether the land was sacred in itself: My hesitation is this. A church is four walls, and it is four walls where we human beings set aside a space to worship God, thus it becomes sacred. One foot outside of the church, is that sacred? Well it could be, but is less so. Anything set apart for God alone, that has the greatest sacral character and so a church is a sacred place, it’s a refuge, its sanctuary, Sanctus, you know, holy . . . . We can take holy things and make them unholy you know, I’m sure plutonium has good uses [laughs]; because it exists, and God created everything. There’s not a destructive drug among them, but it’s the way we use them. So clearly land has been put to abysmal use, and land has been put to holy use. So is the land sacred? It’s nuanced. Religions 2019, 10, 86 5 of 9 Sacred, in its classical definition is a space that has been dedicated to God. His fellow monk, Brother Malachi, also of Christ in the Desert, spoke excitedly and quickly as we exchanged ideas and thoughts on the banks of the Chama River. He too would take exception with a straightforward land is sacred conclusion: God isn’t imminent in nature; he’s ultimately transcendent. He’s not incarnate in anything that we see around here, but we believe that the mountains, the grass, the river, everything, is like an icon in that way . . . Any sort of natural experience, any sort of experience of natural beauty can be spiritual in that way. It’s not God, but it’s God who upholds it in being . . . . God didn’t make you and then leave. God is the reason why you are still alive. God is the reason why everything around us still exists. From the most complicated city down to the simplest ant that’s crawling in the grass somewhere . . . since God is upholding nature in being at every moment, there is an invitation in nature to see the divine reality that is making all of this possible from moment to moment. Just as an icon of Christ reveals something of the divine nature because Christ was God incarnate, so creation reveals the love and purposes of God. God is not a distant watchmaker, but intimately involved with all of creation. Brother Nicolas was also more comfortable with a sacramental sense of land. Walking with Brother Nicolas along the narrow entrance road that leads to the New Camaldoli Hermitage, perched on the tenuous cliffs of the Big Sur coast, we were stopped in our tracks by a small rough-skinned newt that lay motionless in the middle of the driveway. We knelt down to see what she was up to and Brother Nicolas said: Gosh to me they seem like the world’s most vulnerable creatures, just no protection! And they move, you know, anything could squash them [laughs]! I love to see them. There’s a beautiful expression ... have you ever heard this? It’s credited to Meister Eckhart,2 ‘Every creature is a word of God, and a word from God.’ These creatures we see they’re just like a little word. What’s God saying!? If creation was a like a book that could be read, creatures were words, and God their author. I asked Brother Nicolas to tell me more and he said, I believe that creation is sacramental. Reflecting God, conveying God. Somehow speaking of God. Everything kind of showing forth some aspect of God. Maybe the mountains [are] more his strength, and the flowers his delicate beauty . . . What is God saying? ... The deer are almost like creatures from another world. They move so delicately and beautifully and they make no noise. They just seem to vanish! They are kind of a reminder of a world beyond this one, and just a plain beautiful thing to see. The land is not God, the deer is not venerated as divine, or a person, or ancestor spirit, but their existence speaks of God’s qualities and purposes. The deer is a reminder both of God’s mysterious immanence, and ultimate transcendence; here one moment, and beyond reach the next. Another set of monks saw sacred as an action, something that the monks do to and with the land where they dwell. Brother Bernardo of New Clairvaux Abbey affirmed that it was in fact the work of the monks that makes the land sacred, rather than some intrinsic property. As we stood in the restored 12th century Chapter Room, I asked Brother Bernardo to talk about how the land contributes to the purpose of monasticism. After discussing the importance of good stewardship, he anticipated my question on whether or not it was sacred: 2 Johannes (Meister) Eckhart (1260–1328) was a German Dominican Priest, theologian, and mystic. Religions 2019, 10, 86 6 of 9 The community of monks and nuns take the land and make it a sacred space. Of course in terms of creation, God created it so that’s why creation itself is sacred, its beauty puts one in touch with God . . . . we take the property and make it a sacred space . . . So in that sense, where the land was supporting the monastery, the monks take the land and make it what it is. While he flirts with the possibility that the land is beautiful, and that beauty is sacred, ultimately he feels more comfortable with a consecrated view of sacred. Monasteries are consecrated to God, and they do God’s work. That work affects the place where they live. Because the monks had been on the land for so long, their prayers had made the land a sacred place. Brother Berengar from Guadalupe Abbey affirmed this position by suggesting that all the years the monks were present on the land, praying, in fact had changed it: A community praying in this valley all those years changes the place, I’m convinced of that. People will tell me that when they turn into the place they sense something different. Praying makes a difference, it really does, it changes the environment. Many of the monks commented on how often retreatants point out just how different their monastery feels from the day-to-day world, that there is something unique about the place. Monks like Brother Bernardo and Berengar would say that this is a result of their presence and prayers on the land. Consecrating the land to God also influenced the affective atmosphere of the place. This idea often came up when monks cited that there really was a difference between the monastic property and the surrounding landscape. A sacred space is a space devoted to the worship of God. And, in fact, monastic landscapes are devoted to God’s purposes through the monastic work, hospitality, and efforts to protect the local ecology. There was consensus among the monks in every community that caring for the land was their duty. Representatives from each monastery also admitted that the environmental movement had had an influence on how they perceive and care for their properties. As I walked with Brother Salvatore up the steep trail leading to the shrine, he provided me with a thorough historical overview of why some Christians are wary of the term sacred being applied to creation, but also, why others were beginning to embrace it as synonymous with their own sacramental views. When I asked him if he thought of the land as sacred, he reflected a moment and then said: I’ve heard it said that from a more animistic or ancient pagan way of looking at nature or creation, you couldn’t mess with it, you couldn’t alter it too much because everything was ‘God-haunted.’ I mean there were gods everywhere and spirits, and so you had to be very careful how you related to everything. Well once Christianity became dominant with the sense that creator and creation aren’t exactly the same, and there is a transcendence of creator from creation on the one hand, that bestows a different way of looking at God. But also a sense that creation comes from an all-powerful, all-wise artificer. Brother Salvatore saw the Second Vatican Council of the 1960s as the beginning of an opening of Catholicism in general and his particular monastic community in particular to the wider world, including a more overt affection for nature, evident in the certain wings of the tradition, but de-emphasized in the more austere monastic communities such as the Trappists. He also admitted that the environmental movement had had a real impact on his own thinking about the natural world, and worried about the realities of climate change, pollution, technology, and overconsumption. Using the language of intrinsic value that the environmental movement seeks to engender, Brother Salvatore believes that his own monastery has made significant progress: I think it has advanced in the sense of both we want to, out of our enlightened self-interest, to maintain the land from generation to generation in good condition for our own welfare; Religions 2019, 10, 86 7 of 9 but also, that we recognize that it has value in itself, because God made it and loves it. And so it has its own dignity as well . . . . So I think we have that sense too; that God is not only the transcendent creator and artificer, but also is here in everything and with everything. Thus for Brother Salvatore, a sacramental theology rooted in the assumption of God’s transcendence of the world is beginning to open to the intrinsic value of creation as rooted in God that might lead him to eventually believe that land is sacred. Brother Michael from New Camaldoli Hermitage, who was heavily influenced by the California environmental movement, also suggested that land was intrinsically sacred: The basic creation story: God created creation and declared it good, and we talk of natural revelation. God’s love and beauty and wisdom is declared through nature first of all, and then comes a special Christian revelation, [scripture]. But no, nature is sacred in and of itself, and for me in a special way mountains. To say that nature is sacred in and of itself is to make a metaphysical claim that many of the monks were not comfortable with. While Brother Michael did not grant nature an independent spirit, or godly status, he imbued it with a kind of saintliness. The land comes from God, and at some level actually participates in God. Theologically speaking, the majority of monks were comfortable in the domain of land’s sacramental character; its ability to act as an icon of God’s beauty, majesty, and mystery. However, several of the monks, a minority, were willing to characterize this sacramental theology as evidence of land’s sacredness. Charged Moments: Experiencing the Sacred through the Land While the question of whether and to what degree land is sacred varied with the monks, all of the monks I spoke with admitted that they had experienced the sacred in some way or another through the place they were living. Whether walking, worshipping, chanting, working, or praying on the land, the sacred often broke through at unexpected moments. So, while much of the literature on sacred landscapes or sacred natural sites is concerned with specific locales, or the ways in which a given cultural or religious group constructs an idea of what is sacred and what is not, within the monastic context experiencing the sacred through the land is not as simple as walking into a shrine or sacred grove. Praying in the monastic cell, in church, or on the land, engaging in manual work, opens one to God’s presence in different modes and avenues, but one cannot simply expect to return to the same place or activity every day and feel the same connection. In other words, while God is understood to be everywhere by the monks, God tends to manifest in particular places or experiences (Inge 2003). The question of sacred landscape is not just a semiotic problem of interpretation, or even of blending of subjective and objective characteristics. It is an event of affective, visceral encounter that can shift and change at unexpected times and places when God bursts forth into the heart or onto the scene unexpectedly and without warning. This could be during a spectacular sunset, or a particularly drab subset, during a long walk on the land, or simply walking from cell to chapel; a particular moment in the Mass, or, while mowing the lawn. Unlike the bounded, consecrated area of a church, or the domain of an ancient goddess protecting a sacred grove, the simultaneous imminence and transcendence that God holds for the monks can shine through at any given moment. Certainly the monks had their favorite places to pray, think, recreate, walk, and hike, but it was often in unexpected moments or locales that the presence of God was experienced, that the sacred was most intimately felt. For example, during holy week, Brother William of Guadalupe Abbey noticed three familiar trees silhouetted in the distance, trees that had been there for as long as he could recall, but on that particular day, at that particular time touched him profoundly. He said that their symbolism was “a really charged moment.” Perhaps during other times of the year, the trees might not have spoken so Religions 2019, 10, 86 8 of 9 powerfully, but at that time and in that place, they did. These charged moments bring together inner and outer landscapes and give one a sense of sacredness. Brother Alinardo of Guadalupe Abbey had a deep gratitude for the profound impact the place had had on his soul, not only through his formation years, during the liturgy and work hours, but through those mysterious moments of encounter that could not be repeated: I’ve been blessed, where I’ve been to a lot of different parts of the country and backpacked and gotten to beautiful spots in nature, so I really do appreciate those moments, but the deeper moment of what the land has meant to me is more of a mystery. Where you’re on a hike and it’s like somehow God touches you in the hike in this particular spot and you can’t repeat it. You go back there it’s not going to be the same as when God touched you in that spot, but the memory is there. Beauty was very important to Brother Alinardo, but the most profound moments on the land were those that could not be repeated. Brother Berengar shared this experience with me about a kind of epiphany moment, where God was revealed in the most familiar of places: One experience I do remember was with Brother John; we had to make a book run3 into Lynnfield College in McMinnville, and it was late afternoon, it was in December and we were driving back and it was dusk, and you could see where on Abbey Road before you turn into the drive way coming close to the turnoff, I could see the ridge, this ridge behind the Abbey [pointing]. And it was just palpable, it just spoke to me of God. You know Edith Stein, when she went to Paris she said ‘there’s a there.’ So, to me it was like it was palpable, there was a silhouette up against the sky, it was dusk, winter day, and I’ll never forget that. It was just very consoling. Like, God’s behind all of this . . . I’d seen that ridge many times so you can’t make it happen, so my experience of God is that God hits you from the side, surprises you. The sacramental character of the world provided a doorway through which the monks sought entry, but the door opens from the inside. The affective qualities of landscape are co-constituted, but that constitution is not a formula. The metaphysical commitment of the monks to the reality of God ultimately speaks to these ‘charged moments’ and the sacredness of the landscape becomes contingent upon the sacredness of the moment. While these experiences were often reported to me after the fact, in one instance, I was present for a moment of such transcendent beauty, that made both the monk I was interviewing and I stop and stare for several minutes before speaking again. This happened during my interview with Brother Adelmo. We decided to have a seat on a bench on the outskirts of New Clairvaux’s Abbey cemetery, which was lined on two sides by Italian Cypress trees that used to form a cross, until several of the trees were killed by disease. The weather was clear, but the air was still chilly with morning moisture, and I shivered a little until the sun rose above the trees’ canopy. Soft-spoken and insightful, Brother Adelmo responded to each of my questions, and as we neared the end of the interview, I stiffened my back to stretch. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that the pollen that had been wafting from the cypress trees all morning had caught the sunlight as it was now rising over the Abbey church, and we were suddenly in the midst of a transcendent display of light that danced in rays through the thick cypress pollen behind a massive cross at the center of the cemetery. It was beautiful, and we both simply paused and watched the display in silence. As I sat watching the pollen dance in the morning sunlight, the cemetery cross took on its full visual potential as a symbol of resurrection, life and light. This ‘charged moment’ burst through the surface of the everyday in a display of beauty that held Brother Adelmo and I in speechless silence for several minutes. When the pollen diminished and the sun shifted its position, we resumed our interview. 3 The monks run a small book bindery. Religions 2019, 10, 86 9 of 9 5. Conclusions Brother Salvatore and I never made it to the Shrine at the top of the ridge. We had to turn back about halfway into the interview in order to return in time for the afternoon prayer of Vespers. Our slow pace and our frequent stops kept us from reaching the top, and as we walked back, the structure of conversation wandered away from my research into more personal and general topics. As we descended past the Jesus statue once again, I was reminded of just how deeply many of the monks see Christ in the land; not necessarily as a quaint smiling man, but as God’s cosmic and mysterious presence in and love for the world. And even though most would not say that the land is Christ, there were hints and whispers of his presence everywhere, if one is willing to stop and look. Funding: This research was funded as part of my dissertation Research at the University of British Columbia, Vancouver. I received a four-year International Student Fellowship from the University of British Columbia. The Ethics review of this project was conducted through the UBC Behavioral Research Ethics Board, under the project title “Dwelling in the Wilderness,” Certificate Number H14-02005. Acknowledgments: I would like to thank the monastic communities that participated in this study. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Brisch, Nicole. 2008. Religion and Power: Divine Kingship in the Ancient World and Beyond. Chicago: The Oriental Institute of the University of Chicago. Curry, Patrick. 2011. Ecological Ethics. Cambridge: Polity Press. Francis, Pope. 2015. Laudato Si: On Care for our Common Home. Vatican City: Vatican Press. Gatta, John. 2004. Making Nature Sacred: Literature, Religion, and Environment in America from the Puritans to the Present. New York: Oxford University Press. Inge, John. 2003. A Christian Theology of Place. New York: Routledge. Lovelock, James. 2000. Gaia: A New Look at Life on Earth. New York: Oxford University Press. McFague, Sallie. 1993. The Body of God: An Ecological Theology. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress. Taylor, Sara McFarland. 2007. Green Sisters: A Spiritual Ecology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Taylor, Bron. 2009. Dark Green Religion: Nature Spirituality and the Planetary Future. Berkeley: University of California Press. Tuan, Yi-Fu. 2013. Landscapes of Fear. New York: Pantheon. Vaughan-Lee, Llewellyn. 2013. Spiritual Ecology: The Cry of the Earth. Inverness: The Golden Sufi Center. White, Lynn, Jr. 1967. The Historical Roots of our Ecologic Crisis. Science 155: 1203–7. [CrossRef] [PubMed] © 2019 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.1126/science.155.3767.1203 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/17847526 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction Methods Background: Landscape and the Sacred Findings: Monastic Sacred Place and Landscape Conclusions References 
work_bgqpsw42v5gfjpr7b7cjfvttky	----	Review of Edward Berry, Writing Reasons: A Handbook for Judges, 4th ed (Toronto: LexisNexis, 2015), pp 158. ISBN: 978-0-433-47964-2 Copyright © John C. Kleefeld, 2017 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 20:59 McGill Law Journal Revue de droit de McGill Review of Edward Berry, Writing Reasons: A Handbook for Judges, 4th ed (Toronto: LexisNexis, 2015), pp 158. ISBN: 978-0-433-47964-2 John C. Kleefeld Volume 63, numéro 1, september 2017 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1054355ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1054355ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) McGill Law Journal / Revue de droit de McGill ISSN 0024-9041 (imprimé) 1920-6356 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce compte rendu Kleefeld, J. C. (2017). Compte rendu de [Review of Edward Berry, Writing Reasons: A Handbook for Judges, 4th ed (Toronto: LexisNexis, 2015), pp 158. ISBN: 978-0-433-47964-2]. McGill Law Journal / Revue de droit de McGill, 63(1), 191–199. https://doi.org/10.7202/1054355ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/mlj/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1054355ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1054355ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/mlj/2017-v63-n1-mlj04158/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/mlj/ McGill Law Journal — Revue de droit de McGill Review of Edward Berry, Writing Reasons: A Handbook for Judges, 4th ed (Toronto: LexisNexis, 2015), pp 158. ISBN: 978-0-433- 47964-2. John C. Kleefeld * Edward Berry’s Writing Reasons,1 though aimed at judges who pro- vide written reasons for their decisions, deserves a wider audience. With this version, it may get just that. Originally published in 1998 and self- published for the first three editions, this delightful and highly instructive handbook has now been published by LexisNexis. While I lament the loss of some of the third edition’s form—its cover, its elegant typesetting, its clever Shakespearean epitaphs leading off each chapter (it still has epi- taphs, but now mostly from other sources)—I laud the substantive chang- es and the decision to leave the book’s basic format intact. That format is one in which the author—an emeritus professor of English and long-time leader of judicial writing workshops—goes from macrocosm to microcosm, continually imparting wisdom along the way and asking readers to test how well they’ve imbibed it through end-of-chapter exercises and answer keys. Berry’s first macrocosmic point is context. It is the driving theme of the first three chapters—“Context First”, “Introductions”, and “Organiza- tion”—and of much of the rest of the book. The notion that information needs context isn’t hard to understand, says Berry, yet it is often forgotten for two general reasons. The first is that, in working through a problem, we tend to write for ourselves rather than our readers. The second reason, closely related to the first, is that we assume reader expertise or knowledge that doesn’t actually exist. Journalists are aware of both tendencies and work hard to overcome them. Two further reasons for for- getting context apply to judicial writing, says Berry: legal training and the traditions of legal communication. The facts-law-application-conclusion * Professor and Dean of Law, University of New Brunswick (formerly Associate Pro- fessor, University of Saskatchewan). � John C. Kleefeld 2017 Citation: (2017) 63:1 McGill LJ 191 — Référence : (2017) 63:1 RD McGill 191 1 Edward Berry, Writing Reasons: A Handbook for Judges, 4th ed (Toronto: LexisNexis, 2015). 192 (2017) 63:1 MCGILL LAW JOURNAL — REVUE DE DROIT DE MCGILL sequence that law schools attempt to drill into students may lend itself well to legal precision; as a presentation method, though, Berry asserts that it often fails to respond to readers’ needs. This is even truer when considering that the audience for judgments is not only lawyers, but par- ties to a case (at least one of whom is often now “self-represented”2) and, indeed, the “public at large”.3 Such readers need more context so that they can better understand the legal concepts and terminology and anticipate how and why judgments unfold in the way that they do. Example being better than precept, I’ll provide one. Consider the fol- lowing introduction to a judgment: This is an appeal from a judgment of the Court of Appeal for Ontar- io, 2011 ONCA 482, 107 OR (3d) 9, affirming a decision of the Ontar- io Superior Court of Justice per Himel J, 2011 ONSC 1500, 105 OR (3d) 761, granting the respondent’s application for an order declaring that life support could not be removed from her husband without her consent, and that any challenge to her refusal to consent must be brought before Ontario’s Consent and Capacity Board pursuant to the Health Care Consent Act, 1996, SO 1996, c 2, Sch A (“HCCA”). For the following reasons, we affirm the decisions below and dismiss the appeal. In fact, this is a hypothetical introduction to an actual Supreme Court of Canada decision. I provide the real introduction below, but let me first de- fend my hypothetical one, then critique it à la Berry. In some ways, this introduction is not only defensible, but representa- tive of many introductions to appellate judgments. The style and struc- ture is especially common in the U.S. federal courts, but also in other ju- risdictions. In a few sentences (just two here), the court explains the pro- cedural history of the case and says how it will dispose of it. The key is- sues, though not labelled as such in this example, can be inferred: they have to do with whether a patient’s spouse must consent before the pa- tient’s life support is removed and with whether a refusal to consent must be challenged before a special tribunal or board acting under a provincial statute. 2 See generally National Self-Represented Litigants Project, online: <representingyour- selfcanada.com>, archived at perma.cc/WSK7-HSU2, and particularly, Julie Macfar- lane, “The National Self-Represented Litigants Project: Identifying and Meeting the Needs of Self-Represented Litigants: Final Report” (May 2013) at 33–34 online: Nation- al Self-Represented Litigants Project <representingyourselfcanada.com/wp-content /uploads/2015/07/nsrlp-srl-research-study-final-report.pdf>, archived at perma.cc/4GDX -BTXK (noting, among other things, that self-representation in provincial family courts is now consistently at or above 40 per cent, and in some cases far higher). 3 Berry, supra note 1 at 3, citing R v Sheppard, 2002 SCC 26 at para 55, [2002] 1 SCR 869. BOOK REVIEW 193 However, this compaction is achieved at the cost of clarity, especially for the lay reader. Legal readers—lawyers, judges, law clerks, and law students slogging through the task of briefing cases—might appreciate having the procedural context handed to them at the outset in highly crafted form. But for parties and public-at-large readers, the important thing is substantive context, largely missing here. The questions “Why should I read this?” and “What does this mean?” go unanswered. And this isn’t the only problem. The first sentence, at ninety-five words, is longer than the average sentence by a factor of almost five, making it nightmar- ish to read.4 It is clogged with citations—fewer, actually, than many legal sentences—and uses jargon like “respondent” and “application”. The pas- sive voice has also crept in—we learn that life support “could not be re- moved”—and we are left to wonder: removed by whom? These things fur- ther detract from the sentence’s readability and even its accountability. The second sentence raises a more difficult question: should an introduc- tion announce the decision as well as the issues? Berry says that if read- ers need a road map, “why not announce the final destination in ad- vance?”5 But he then considers whether, and in which cases, this is a good or a bad idea. For example, he notes that doing so might induce a reader to stop reading or treat the reasons that follow as “mere rationalizations, afterthoughts produced to justify a verdict arrived at by mere prejudice.”6 Ultimately, he eschews a single or formulaic answer to this question on 4 See LA Sherman, Analytics of Literature: A Manual for the Objective Study of English Prose and Poetry (Boston: Ginn & Co, 1893) at 256–62, online: Internet Archive <https://archive.org/details/analyticslitera00shergoog>; William H DuBay, “The Princi- ples of Readability” (2004), online: <www.impact-information.com/impactinfo/readab ility02.pdf>, archived at perma.cc/N2Z4-4EMG. Both works stand for the proposition that, other things being equal, readers understand shorter sentences better than longer ones. Sherman, a professor of English literature, was the first to statistically document a progressive shortening of sentences over time by counting average sentence length over a range of literature per 100-year periods. His study of pre-Elizabethan sentences based on representative authors yielded an average length of 63 words (Robert Fabyan); by Elizabethan times, this had shortened to 45 words (Edmund Spenser, Richard Hooker); by Victorian times, to 28 words (Lord MacAulay, Thomas De Quincy); and in Sherman’s own time, 23 words (Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Ellery Channing). DuBay estimates that sentences now average about 20 words (ibid at 10). For compara- ble studies finding a drop in average sentence length over time, see e.g. Mark Liber- man, “Real Trends in Word and Sentence Length” (31 October 2011), Language Log (blog), online: <languagelog.ldc.upenn.edu/nll/?p=3534>, archived at perma.cc/GBB6- XV7J (analyzing US presidential inaugural and state of the union addresses); Alan G Gross, Joseph E Harmon & Michael Reidy, Communicating Science: The Scientific Arti- cle from the 17th Century to the Present (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002) at 171 (finding that average sentence length in scientific prose has declined from about 60 words to 27 words since the 17th century). 5 Berry, supra note 1 at 22. 6 Ibid at 23. 194 (2017) 63:1 MCGILL LAW JOURNAL — REVUE DE DROIT DE MCGILL the basis that judgment writing “involves not merely legal logic but psy- cho-logic.”7 Here, then, is the actual introductory paragraph to the case, Cuthbert- son v. Rasouli: This case presents us with a tragic yet increasingly common conflict. A patient is unconscious. He is on life support—support that may keep him alive for a very long time, given the resources of modern medicine. His physicians, who see no prospect of recovery and only a long progression of complications as his body deteriorates, wish to withdraw life support. His wife, believing that he would wish to be kept alive, opposes withdrawal of life support. How should the im- passe be resolved?8 This paragraph, written by Chief Justice Beverley McLachlin, vividly ex- emplifies what Berry calls the focus first strategy for creating a context for details and reasons.9 It is actually the first paragraph of a four- paragraph overview, so it can be thought of as an introduction to an in- troduction. To set the stage for a reader’s willingness to accept the rea- sons that follow (yes, Berry is unapologetic about the persuasive function of reasons for judgment), the Chief Justice cultivates a sympathetic, col- laborative, or problem-solving tone, in contrast to my hypothetical ver- sion, which might be described as aloof, authoritative and legalistic. No- tably, she does not announce the decision in the first paragraph, though she does so by the third one. The rest of the overview deals with the same things that my version addresses—the statute, the board, etc.—and while her treatment of them is more expansive, it provides just enough infor- mation to give the necessary context for understanding the case. And for wanting to read it. After the first three chapters, Writing Reasons devotes Chapter 4 to “Conciseness”, which Berry distinguishes from brevity. Berry writes that “[b]revity is only about saving words; conciseness is about making every word count.”10 Since clarity is the overarching goal, extra words can some- times help, as with contextual sentences, transitional words or phrases, or occasional summaries. But wordiness is a problem in judgments, and it takes effort to achieve conciseness there as in any form of writing. “I would not have made this letter so long,” wrote Blaise Pascal, “but for not 7 Ibid. 8 Cuthbertson v Rasouli, 2013 SCC 53 at para 1, [2013] 3 SCR 341. 9 See Berry, supra note 1 at 3–8 (describing focus first writing as involving “the addition of a context at the outset that will clarify the significance of the narrative details” at 4). 10 Ibid at 58. BOOK REVIEW 195 having had the time to make it shorter.”11 Berry identifies three areas where judgments frequently need concision: evidence, party positions, and quotations. He has some suggestions here. Evidence, for example, rarely merits its own section, and if you do create one, you are likely to be tempted to fill it up, recounting testimony in a plodding, witness-by- witness fashion. Instead, says Berry, use issue-driven structures, which tend to discipline the presentation of evidence and align the necessary components of it with the issues to be decided. Creating sections that out- line party positions can also be tempting; after all, this is how cases are presented to adjudicators. But they also encourage wordiness (and, I would add, conclusory reasoning or even insufficiency of reasons). Berry suggests that one remedy is to focus on the losing party: the reasons may often align with those of the winning party, in which case repeating that party’s position becomes unnecessary. Before using quotations, Berry suggests that we ask two questions: first, are the exact words essential; and second, would a paraphrase be less effective than the original. Berry has in mind quotations to authorities like cases and statutes, but his ad- vice applies as well to other material, such as quoting from affidavit evi- dence and counsel submissions. Some quoted text, even in block form, can add vitality to a judgment, but large amounts can deaden it and even en- courage ‘cut-and-paste’ writing and litigation about the sufficiency of rea- sons.12 In any case, says Berry, block quotations should generally be in- 11 The quip is often attributed to Mark Twain, but he apparently borrowed it from Pascal. See Garson O’Toole, “If I Had More Time, I Would Have Written a Shorter Letter” (28 April 2012), Quote Investigator (blog), online: <quoteinvestigator.com/2012/04/28/shor ter-letter>, archived at perma.cc/G9PX-DEBF (noting that the quip appears to be a translation of Pascal); Blaise Pascal, Les Provinciales, annotated edition by Charles Louandre (Paris: Charpentier, 1875) at 330, online: Internet Archive <https://archive.org/details/lesprovincialesod00mpasc> (in a 1657 lettter, Pascal wrote: “[j]e n’ai fait celle-ci plus longue que parce que je n’ai pas eu le loisir de la faire plus courte”). See also Twain Quotes, “Letters”, online: <www.twainquotes.com/ Letters.html>, archived at perma.cc/4LA4-8ST6 (noting Pascal’s authorship of the quote and its frequent misattribution to Twain). A similar quote appears in Writing Reasons, supra note 1 at 57, where Berry attributes it to a “Confucian scholar”. If that is correct, the quip has demonstrated a remarkable resilience, staying intact after transla- tion from Chinese to French to English over a couple of millennia. 12 I cannot resist a disquisition here. Whereas Cicero was concerned with the sound effects of his defence speeches—the “well-knit rhythm of prose,” he called it (See Cicero, Bru- tus: Orator, translated by HM Hubbell, revised ed (Cambridge, Mass: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 1962) at 447, online: <loebclassics.com>)—today’s lawyer is more apt to think of how her written submissions look on a page—or on the judge’s iPad. If they look very good, the judge might use them. And if the lawyer has provided them electron- ically, they may end up being incorporated into the judge’s reasons, perhaps without at- tribution. In this setting, the lawyer is usually delighted, assuming the judge uses the submissions to find in favour of the lawyer’s client. But what about those on the other side—might they not be left with the impression that the judge has failed to fairly con- sider the evidence and the arguments? In recent years, the Australian, English and 196 (2017) 63:1 MCGILL LAW JOURNAL — REVUE DE DROIT DE MCGILL troduced with a statement that either focuses the quotation or summariz- es its point in the judge’s own words. Chapters 5 to 8 of Writing Reasons—“Paragraphs”, “Sentences”, “Words”, and “Punctuation”—continue the macrocosmic-to-microcosmic approach, addressing such things as transitions and topic sentences; structure and length; balance; active versus passive voice; and the idio- syncrasies of commas, semicolons, colons, parentheses, and dashes. Berry Canadian courts have all had something to say about this, though reaching somewhat different conclusions. The Australian Full Court (the appellate division of the Federal Court of Australia), in LVR (WA) Pty Ltd v Administrative Appeals Tribunal, [2012] FCAFC 90, 128 ALD 489 provided an extensive analysis (146 paragraphs) of the issues associated with copying submissions. The Court held that, at least in the circumstances of that case, the failure to attribute the copying to the submissions of one side was fatal to the case. Ap- proximately 95 per cent of the Tribunal’s reasons had been taken from the written submissions of the Commissioner of Taxation. After the decision, the Commissioner then reviewed five other appeals that were headed to the Federal Court and agreed to have all of them go back for a rehearing. See the consent orders in the joined appeals, styled as Palassis v Commissioner of Taxation (No 2), [2012] FCA 955, 136 ALD 91. The English Court of Appeal considered this issue in Crinion v IG Markets Ltd, [2013] EWCA Civ 587, [2013] All ER (D) 272 (May). The case involved a father and son, Tommy and Declan Crinion, who had run up large debts in accounts with a futures trader, IG Markets (IG). IG successfully sued them for recovery of the debts, and most of the judgment—94 per cent, by the Crinions’ estimate—was copied and pasted from the submissions of IG’s counsel. The Crinions appealed solely on the perception that the judge had abdicated responsibility by slavishly adopting the submissions as his own conclusions. One of the appeal judges, Sir Stephen Sedley, noted that technology has made it “seductively easy” to do what the judge did but “embarrassingly easy” to show what he had done. However, he found that enough independent words could be “teased out” of the judgment—some heading changes, a few additional sentences—to satisfy the legitimate demand for independent reasoning. The other judges agreed, though their reasons carry a strong aura of disapproval and a wish that “a judgment like the one now before us will not be encountered again” (ibid at para 40). The leading Canadian case, Cojocaru v British Columbia Women’s Hospital and Health Center, 2013 SCC 30, [2013] 2 SCR 357, was an action for a negligent birth. The mother’s uterus had ruptured, resulting in brain damage to her child and a $4 million damages award after a 30-day trial. Of the 368 paragraphs in the trial judgment, 321 were almost verbatim from the plaintiff’s closing submissions. The case went to the BC Court of Appeal, where two of three judges reversed the trial judge on the basis of an apparent lack of independent analysis. On further appeal, the Supreme Court of Cana- da unanimously restored most of the trial judgment, with some variation to its sub- stance. Writing for the Court, McLachlin CJC noted a long practice of judicial copying, with or without attribution, and said that neither the copying nor the failure to attrib- ute sources, without more, answer the ultimate question—whether a reasonable person would conclude that “the judge did not put her mind to the issues to be decided” (ibid at para 31). The Court concluded that while it would have been “best practice” for the trial judge to have used his own words, he had actually rejected some of the plaintiff’s sub- missions and, in the 47 paragraphs that were his own, had added enough independent material to satisfy the “reasonable observer” test (ibid at paras 69, 74). BOOK REVIEW 197 manages to do this without seeming dogmatic and by using examples, recognizing that there are various ways of doing things. He might even approve of this paragraph. Though the first sentence is very long, it uses punctuation to create syntactical breaks; “em dashes”13 to mark an inter- jection; semicolons to signal a list; and commas within one of the list items. It also attempts to follow the principle of “parallel structure” (the general format of my review is a chapter-by-chapter outline of the book). Chapter 9, “Widening the Audience”, is one of my favourites. The sec- tion on prejudicial language, some of which can be quite unconscious, is especially good. Berry avoids a “checklist” of words that are likely to of- fend. This is in part because the common recommendations on such lists have already been absorbed into the language; more fundamentally, though, checklists invite us to substitute one word for another instead of searching for underlying principles that can be applied to sundry situa- tions and withstand the test of time. Berry suggests the following princi- ples or strategies: (i) invite parties to define their own identities (e.g., de- spite changing norms, “some women might prefer Mrs. to Ms.”14); (ii) men- tion a distinguishing characteristic only when it is pertinent, and show its pertinence immediately; (iii) avoid merging the person with the character- istic in a dehumanizing way (compare, e.g., “AIDS victim” to “a person with AIDS”15); (iv) if a racial or ethnic categorization is pertinent, prefer the specific to general (e.g., “a ‘Haida’ would probably prefer that designa- tion to ‘Aboriginal person’”16) (and, I would counsel, avoid the absurdly vague “racialized person”17); (v) be wary of stereotypes, both explicit and 13 Not to be confused with the slightly narrower en dash (–) or even narrower hyphen (-). See The Punctuation Guide, “Em dash”, online: <www.thepunctuationguide.com/em- dash.html>, archived at perma.cc/J3S7-27XT; Wikipedia, “Dash”, online: <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dash>, archived at perma.cc/L3KD-6XSZ. 14 Berry, supra note 1 at 110. 15 Ibid at 111. 16 Ibid. 17 See Jonathan Kay, “Stop calling people ‘racialized minorities.’ It’s silly and cynical”, Na- tional Post (11 July 2014), online: <news.nationalpost.com/full-comment/jonathan-kay- stop-calling-people-racialized-minorities-its-silly-and-cynical>, archived at per- ma.cc/8FHM-VRRV. But see, contra, Ontario Human Rights Commission, “Racial Dis- crimination, Race and Racism (Fact Sheet)”, online: <www.ohrc.on.ca/en/racial- discrimination-race-and-racism-fact-sheet>, archived at perma.cc/S9FH-Y3HR (“[r]eco- gnizing that race is a social construct, the Commission describes people as ‘racialized person’ or ‘racialized group’ instead of the more outdated and inaccurate terms ‘racial minority’, visible minority’, ‘person of colour’ or ‘non-White’”); and Louise Brown, “U of T gets personal with staff to track race, gender data”, Toronto Star (9 July 2016), online: <https://www.thestar.com/yourtoronto/education/2016/07/09/u-of-t-gets-personal -with-staff-to-track-race-gender-data.html>, archived at perma.cc/C3HT-FM57 (describ- ing a University of Toronto survey that asked staff to ask if they identify themselves as 198 (2017) 63:1 MCGILL LAW JOURNAL — REVUE DE DROIT DE MCGILL implicit (“the appointment of Justice Janet Marshall will bring a refresh- ingly sympathetic face and nurturing demeanour to the bench”18); and (vi) “stay current and Canadian.”19 If there is one way in which this chap- ter could be improved, I think it would be in providing techniques for gen- der-neutral writing that are neither awkward (‘s/he’) nor grammatically contested (‘a judge should choose their words carefully’).20 In the mean- time, one of the best resources for the legal writer on that subject is the British Columbia Law Institute’s short report on managing personal pro- nouns.21 In Chapter 10, “Developing a Personal Style,” Berry first addresses the antipathy that some legal readers might feel towards the word “style”. Substance is what matters, the argument goes, and brooding over style can interfere with substance—drawing attention to the judge instead of the parties and the issues to be decided. This argument, not entirely without merit, has recently led one commentator to frame a Supreme Court judge’s stylistic efforts as a form of “judicial arrogance”.22 But as Berry notes, citing Benjamin Cardozo, form and substance are insepara- ble: “[t]he strength that is born of form and the feebleness that is born of the lack of form are in truth qualities of the substance.”23 The advice to at- tend to style, then, becomes advice on how the manner of an argument may best support its matter. Berry provides four examples from different levels of Canadian courts to encourage this kind of reflective approach to style. “persons of colour” or “racialized persons” and then drilling into deeper levels of specific- ity). 18 Berry, supra note 1 at 111. 19 Ibid. 20 On this point see Jeremy Butterfield, ed, Fowler’s Dictionary of Modern English Usage, 4th ed (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015) sub verbis “their”, “they, their, them”, “he or she”. 21 See British Columbia Law Institute, Gender-Free Legal Writing: Managing the Personal Pronouns (Vancouver: BCLI, 1998), online: <www.bcli.org/project/gender-free-legal- writing-managing-personal-pronouns>, archived at perma.cc/DVN7-47NS. 22 See Alice Woolley, “The Problem of Judicial Arrogance”, Slaw (20 October 2016), online: <www.slaw.ca/2016/10/20/the-problem-of-judicial-arrogance>, archived at per- ma.cc/96P6-MJJY (referring to Justice Russell Brown’s opening paragraph in Canada (Attorney General) v Igloo Vikski Inc, 2016 SCC 38, [2016] 2 SCR 80). I disagree with Woolley, though I also disagree with Justice Brown’s opening sentence: “In wintertime ice hockey is the delight of everyone.” 23 Berry, supra note 1 at 118, citing Benjamin N Cardozo, Law and Literature and Other Essays and Addresses (New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1931) at 6 [emphasis added by Berry]. BOOK REVIEW 199 The last chapter, “Revising”, is in some ways the most important one. Berry gives some “simple advice” based on “sad experience”.24 First, “[w]hen drafting, write to think; when editing, write to be read.”25 Second, “[w]hen drafting, resist editing, especially at the micro-level.”26 Simple to state, perhaps, but hard to put into practice. Berry provides a seven-step program to implement these two tips, starting with macro questions like how much information readers need to make sense of the reasons; how is- sues should be framed and analyzed; and micro considerations such as paragraph structures, sentence variations, word choice and tone. I said at the outset that Writing Reasons deserves a wider audience. Administrative tribunal members are obvious candidates for that audi- ence: from the point of view of sheer numbers alone, their decisions affect the day-to-day lives of many more people than decisions of courts, and Berry’s advice transposes well to the writing of administrative decisions. Berry also makes the case that judges who give mostly oral judgments can benefit from some of the ideas in the book, and provides advice specif- ically for them.27 Lawyers who diligently craft written submissions would also do well to imagine themselves in the judge’s role and revise with that role in mind; Writing Reasons would be a good place to start. Finally, law schools, which traditionally have focused on other forms of legal writing— research memos, opinion letters, factums, pleadings, and essays—might want to consider the benefits of teaching judgment writing. Using the third edition of Writing Reasons, I did that for the first two years in an upper-year seminar course on the written judgment—and I have recently continued the practice with the fourth edition of Berry’s excellent book. 24 Berry, supra note 1 at 127. 25 Ibid. 26 Ibid. 27 Ibid at 113–14. 
work_bjcbxhfifvb6jkcmoszfiq3nj4	----	Economics in Literature and Drama Author(s): Michael Watts and Robert F. Smith Reviewed work(s): Source: The Journal of Economic Education, Vol. 20, No. 3 (Summer, 1989), pp. 291-307 Published by: Taylor & Francis, Ltd. Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1182306 . Accessed: 14/03/2012 01:55 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. Taylor & Francis, Ltd. is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Journal of Economic Education. http://www.jstor.org http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=taylorfrancis http://www.jstor.org/stable/1182306?origin=JSTOR-pdf http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp Economics in Literature and Drama Michael Watts and Robert F. Smith The prophet and the poet may regenerate the world without the economist, but the economist cannot regenerate it without them. Philip Wicksteed The Commonsense of Political Economy It has long been noted that although literature and drama, like language, function as institutions in some ways separate from economic forces and conditions, they do play an important role in shaping public opinion and standards on many economic issues.' In turn, economic thought and cir- cumstances help shape and direct literature, drama, and language. It is sur- prising, then, that few economists have carefully studied these influences. This inattention may stem from the observation that many literary works are decidedly antimarket and even anti-economics in terms of rejecting the method Keynes described as the economic way of thinking. Perhaps in response to this, economists have tended to dismiss the analytical skills of literary authors out of hand, suggesting that bias pervades most of their works dealing with economic matters. In a survey of such works, however, we found a surprising number that describe analytical economic concepts accurately. Furthermore, although there is much agreement in these works concerning appropriate forms of individual economic behavior, disagree- ment over policy and overall forms of social organization related to economic questions is not unlike that which exists within the economics pro- fession. In the following two sections, we describe how economists have typically used literary works and viewed their authors. The next section provides a selection of literary treatments of economic concepts, issues, and themes, suggesting a rich vein of largely untapped material for high school and uni- versity economics instructors. In the final section, we offer our conclusions on the scope and diversity of these literary materials. THE ECONOMISTS AND THE AUTHORS From the time that Thomas Carlyle labeled economics the dismal science, the relationship between literature and economics has been uneasy, usually characterized by ambivalent toleration. In some periods and with certain Michael Watts is an associate professor of economics at Purdue University, and Robert F. Smith is a professor of economics at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas. Summer 1989 291 authors, outright disdain for the methods of the other field has been ex- pressed by prominent representatives of both disciplines. Stigler (1982, pp. 27-29) describes one such exchange involving the poet laureate Robert Southey and Thomas Babington Macaulay and offers roughly contem- porary passages from Carlyle and John Ruskin that join in Southey's anti- industrial, anticompetitive stance. Many modern economists are interested in cross-disciplinary work, however, with some borrowing from and intrud- ing into fields such as anthropology, psychology, sociology, biology, ethics, philosophy, and law, as well as literature.2 Economists are often struck by the activist orientation to political economy adopted by many literary authors, especially by those with a liberal stance, like the "muckrakers." In addition to writing exposes of un- wholesome practices in particular industries, such as Upton Sinclair's The Jungle, authors have criticized monopoly power, employment practices, and income distribution. Such themes are especially prevalent and well known in the works of American authors who wrote early in this century, such as Frank Norris, John Steinbeck, John Dos Passos, and William Faulkner. In their recent film series and book Free to Choose (1980), Milton and Rose Friedman attribute significant influence to literary writers in the shaping of current attitudes on income distribution schemes.3 Although it is customary to view the political economy that is at least im- plicitly behind most modern literature as liberal, Ayn Rand's work shows that an activist and conservative political economy may also be developed through literary devices. Earlier works by Benjamin Franklin, Horatio Alger, and even Ralph Waldo Emerson may be less activist in the modern sense, but they are certainly conservative from both the traditional and modern perspectives. Questions of the alleged political and economic biases of authors have also attracted a considerable amount of attention when economic historians have attempted to use literary passages to establish their own ideas concern- ing economic conditions or levels of economic activity. In traditional economic histories, it is common to find passages from poems, novels, and plays cited as evidence that some particular industrial practice had been in- troduced at a certain time or place, or that living standards had changed. This sort of reference is found most often in works that deal with earlier centuries. Probably more economic histories of sixteenth-century England than not refer to the spinning mills in Thomas Deloney's Jack ofNewbery.4 Much more controversial is the extensive debate over the proper interpreta- tion and use of literature describing the standard of living during the period of the English Industrial Revolution.5 With respect to the history of economic thought, the works of Swift, De- Quincy, Coleridge, Southey, Peacock, Carlyle, Ruskin, Dickens, Cobbett, and Bellamy, among others, have received some attention in numerous theses and other scholarly publications.6 Studies on how literary authors have anticipated, synthesized, or contrib- uted to the development of economic analysis are rare. It is not unusual, 292 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION however, to see Gresham's law attributed to Aristophanes (Spiegel 1971, p. 688), and Henry W. Farnam, a professor of economics at Yale, was admit- ted to Yale's Elizabethan Club for his work "Shakespeare As An Economist.''7 ECONOMISTS' USE OF LITERATURE Popular opinion notwithstanding, some economists have a sense of hu- mor often exercised by the use of literary devices. John Kenneth Galbraith's most obvious satire was published under the pen name Mark (from Mark Twain) Epernay (Galbraith 1963). More recently, two economists took the pen name Marshall Jevons to have some fun, in a series of mystery novels, with the "unbreakable" laws of economics, and other economists have since followed suit. It is much more common to find economists introducing their papers or chapters in books with short quotations from literary works. This approach is especially popular in textbooks, perhaps because Paul Samuelson's influ- ential book established a precedent in this respect. A few recent textbooks have gone even further and devote entire pages to literary excerpts related to some economic theme, issue, or concept.8 At least two prominent economists, William Stanley Jevons and Kenneth Boulding, have included their own poetry in their professional economic works. Some cynics, perhaps recalling Adam Smith's thoughts on vanity or Veblen's on conspicuous leisure, might suggest that economists who resort to literary allusions are only flaunting their own erudition. Nevertheless, such references can be fun, and they may even contribute to the substantive points in question. For example, in making a plea for the quick imposition of wage and price controls several years ago, an economist cited Macbeth's warning: If it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well It were done quickly A respondent pointed out that in that passage Macbeth is discussing the murder of Duncan, Macbeth's king, kinsman, and houseguest. Extending the allusion, the respondent argued that wage and price controls might be viewed as the murder of the market economy-a step most economists are not prepared to take, given the many benefits of the market system. Or, as Lady Macbeth says, "Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?" In "Shakespeare vs. Becker on Altruism: The Importance of Having the Last Word" (1979), Jack Hirshliefer responded to an article on Gary Becker's theory of altruism. Hirshliefer's comment featured indifference curves, a transfer line, and a joint production-income opportunity frontier, but it began with a three-line quotation from King Lear. Becker thanked Hirshliefer "for finding such a formidable protagonist" as Lear and asked, "Can economics now be extended to literature as well?" (1977, p. 507). Summer 1989 293 The most prestigious indication that literary passages can be useful to professional economists in their own work, by being fun and by providing clear, nontechnical examples of economic concepts, has been the practice of the Journal of Political Economy of often reprinting literary passages on its back cover.' This practice was begun in 1973, the year that Stigler was named a coeditor of the journal. Some university and high school instructors have developed instructional units based on literary passages with substantial economic content.10 The objectives of this approach include (1) reaching new groups of students who find the study of economics boring and distasteful; (2) providing interesting and complementary materials to supplement textbooks and other instruc- tional materials; and (3) adding to the instructor's own store of examples, stories, and allusions. The success of such efforts depends on the available quantity, quality, and variety of suitable passages. We devote the remainder of this paper to a partial survey of such passages. The Appendix provides a list of over fifty passages by various authors, including page references to selected editions of the works and indications of the major economic con- cepts or issues discussed. ECONOMICS IN LITERATURE If we begin with the idea that economics is the study of the allocation of scarce resources to satisfy unlimited wants, it is quite simple to find similar themes in literature. In John Milton's The Mask of Comus, for example, the disreputable speaker tempts a virgin by arguing that it would be ungrate- ful not to use available natural resources to satisfy human wants. In a very different setting, Emerson's Journals discusses human, natural, and capital resources (especially in England and Holland), and entrepreneurship (in terms of the fame and wealth that commonly go to those who "build a bet- ter mousetrap"). Literary authors are probably most aware of the potential of human resources, often in an explicitly economic setting. For example, F. Scott Fitzgerald's Gatsby carefully budgets his time to develop his human capital as a youth and then follows Daisy (whose voice is "full of money") in his pursuit of the American Dream. The young Gatsby is reminiscent of the young Ben Franklin (as depicted in Franklin's Autobiography and reflected in Poor Richard's Almanac), but the times and the men are dif- ferent, and Gatsby's turn to the underworld hastens both his success and his downfall. The subject of labor resources often leads literary authors into discussions of economic systems, profits, labor unions, and income distribution; we will discuss these complex issues later. In terms of more elementary concepts, prominent writers have recognized the general idea of opportunity costs outside of the narrow setting of budgeting, most clearly in Robert Frost's "The Road Not Taken." Frost's "Mending Wall" also considers another basic economic concept and insti- tution, private property. It is interesting to read this poem with an eye to Frost's concern about the natural or artificial nature of private property, 294 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION and the related concern of whether property should be maintained either as a matter of right or as a matter of efficiency and expediency ("Good fences make good neighbors"). Many authors show a surprising concern about efficiency and things that can increase it, sometimes at a cost, such as specialization and the division of labor. The passages from Sherwood Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio deal- ing with the relationship between Wing Biddlebaum and George Willard are as balanced a discussion on the costs and benefits of specialization as we find in The Wealth of Nations. (Biddlebaum has special manual skills; Willard is a promising and skilled writer.) Reading several of the character sketches in Edgar Lee Masters' Spoon River Anthology produces a similar, if less balanced, picture." In Book 4 of The Dunciad, Alexander Pope has written some passages on specialization that are particularly relevant to social scientists. In Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser even recognized that specialization is limited by the extent of the market (chapter 30, "The Kingdom of Greatness: The Pilgrim Adream"). Literary authors are also especially concerned with the role of entrepre- neurs, both real and archetypal,. in driving the process of growth and building up concentrations of economic power to be used for good or bad. John Dos Passos's U.S.A. trilogy includes sketches of Henry Ford and Andrew Carnegie, among others, and covers such topics as the productivity gains from Ford's assembly-line operations, the private philanthropy of these two industrial giants, and concerns about the military-industrial complex. There is also a sketch of Joe Hill, an early leader of the radical IWW, and a sketch of Thorstein Veblen entitled "The Bitter Drink." Joseph Heller's Catch-22 contains a more satirical portrait-Milo Minderbinder, an entrepreneur who functions with equal ease and success in open markets, traditional economies, and the often frustrating and uneconomic world of the wartime army. One has the feeling that Minderbinder would be just as comfortable operating with Fagin or other characters out of a Dickens novel. The role of competitive markets in limiting the concentration and abuse of economic power is frequently discussed in literary works, as is the impor- tance of using economic incentives to generate work, investment, and risk taking in a free society. The entrepreneurs mentioned clearly understand profits-Minderbinder even knows that you can make a profit buying eggs for seven cents and selling them for five, if you are buying them from yourself and originally paid a penny an egg. In Horace, and in Pope's "Imi- tations of Horace," a soldier charges a fortress in one battle to earn a share of prize money but is considerably less aggressive in later battles, given his new wealth. In Washington Irving's "The Poor-Devil Author," the title character is a renowned writer of high literature in his small hometown, but, when in London, he eventually discards his manuscript and begins writing anonymous pieces in trade journals, recognizing that by producing some- thing in demand he can at least lead a comfortable, if not glamorous, life. Some striking passages concerning free markets can be found in Mark Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court. In chapter 33, Summer 1989 295 "Sixth Century Political Economy," the hero makes a valiant, but futile, attempt to instruct a group of workers on the difference between real and nominal wages and provides a strong defense of free trade that is, in some ways, reminiscent of Bastiat's petition from the candlemakers. Considering markets in a more abstract sense, we find John Steinbeck's Cal, in East of Eden, earning a profit by speculating in beans just before World War I. When his father asks him to return the money, he realizes that impersonal and automatic forces drove prices up. "Give it back to who?" Cal asks-a rather sophisticated question. Frank Norris's The Octopus includes a straightforward passage dealing with the power, pervasiveness, and impersonality of market forces: You are dealing with forces, young man, when you speak of Wheat and Railroads, not with men. There is the Wheat, the supply. It must be carried to feed the People. There is the demand. The Wheat is one force, the Railroad, another, and there is the law that governs them-supply and demand. Men have only little to do in the whole business. Complications may arise, condi- tions that bear hard on the individual-crush him maybe-but the Wheat will be carried to feed the people as inevitably as it will grow. (Norris 1958, p. 395) Whereas Norris, writing in the naturalistic tradition, downplays the role of individuals in the economic system in this passage, other authors focus on situations where individuals are caught in a complicated web of competi- tive pressures that they do not fully understand. This may be done with tragedy, as in Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman, or with poignant humor, as in Neil Simon's Prisoner of Second Avenue. The full costs-private and social-of unemployment have been recognized in a modern sense at least from the time of Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath and George Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier. Many writers seem to have a good understanding and appreciation of basic market forces, and many also recognize various aspects of market im- perfections, including questions of economic stabilization. Deep concern over inflation has been expressed, as in Erich Maria Remarque's The Black Obelisk, which includes passages dealing with Germany's post-World War I hyperinflation. A delightful passage anticipating the idea of externalities can be found in Rabelais's Gargantua and Pantagruel, in which a fool adju- dicates a dispute between a cook and a patron who smoked a piece of bread in the smoke rising from a goose roasting over an open fire. The cook demands equivalent compensation and is paid by the customer's money bag being shaken so that he can only hear the jingle of the coins inside. Spillover costs were illustrated as early as Dickens's description of the pollution in Coketown in Hard Times. On the need for laws and courts to resolve disputes over property rights and to establish a legal and social framework for markets, the literature goes back at least to Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice and includes William Faulkner's The Hamlet. As we mentioned earlier, the literary treatment of income redistribution has been recognized by several economists and has drawn some strong criticism. The presentation of this issue ranges from King Lear's brief state- 2% JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION ment that "distribution should undo excess and each man have enough" to Norris's juxtaposition of poor, starving widows' families and rich families of railroad managers (fitting the Friedmans' description of the literary stereotype). In Welcome to the Monkey House (in the Harrison Bergeron story), Kurt Vonnegut wrote a scathing piece on attempts to achieve full equality of results, and Emerson wrote in his Journals that even "odius" in- equality must be borne, especially when larger incomes are earned in riskier occupations. Concerned with more specialized government programs, Sinclair's The Jungle and Orwell's The Road to Wigan Pier lobbied effectively for govern- ment health and occupational safety regulations. Alexander Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward attacks many current models of socialized medicine, but it does accept some protection against catastrophic illness. Some of the novel's characters also present strong arguments against uncontrolled eco- nomic growth. Literary writers may have anticipated, and have certainly kept pace with, the economic profession's discovery of systematic government failure. In Henry Adams's novel Democracy, the central character goes to Washington and finds fraud, corruption, and self-interest, and very little of the public- spirited trust she had expected. The professor hero of Joseph Heller's Good as Gold is never so naive, actively pursuing a plush and prestigious appoint- ment that involves as little work as possible. Finally, however, he is repulsed and "boggled" by the sheer size and senselessness of the bureaucracy. Much literature deals with the major private institutions of a market economy. Corporations and businesses have always come in for light- hearted treatment, from The Shoemaker's Holiday (of the early 1600s) to How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying and How Now Dow Jones. The problem with using corporations in literary works is that they are, to use Schumpeter's terminology, rational and antiheroic. Few dra- matic works are based even loosely on actual corporate histories. Some works go to idealized extremes, from Horatio Alger's "onward and up- ward" stories to Phillip Massinger's A New Way to Pay Old Debts. Massin- ger's archfiend, Sir Giles Overreach, claims to engage in a wide range of preda- tory practices to strengthen his monopoly. Kurt Vonnegut's RAMJAC cor- poration and Ian Fleming's nefarious, profit-oriented SMERSH represent the extreme of corporate world domination. The most sustained and serious literary tradition concerning businessmen seems to have existed in the United States from the 1920s through the early 1960s, with the most active period ending with Steinbeck's The Winter of Our Discontent. In this period, business executives were often seen as "am- bitious and hard-working, but with severely limited intellectual and cultural horizons" (Brandis 1961, p. 29). The most important works in this vein are by Sinclair Lewis (Babbitt and Main Street), Arthur Miller (Death of a Salesman and All My Sons), Cameron Hawley (Executive Suite and Cash McCall), John P. Marquand (Point of No Return), and George S. Kaufman and Howard Teichmann (The Solid Gold Cadillac). Summer 1989 297 Labor unions have received different treatment, or at least they did in the more "glamorous" and violent periods of labor organization, from the be- ginning of this century to the implementation of the Wagner Act of 1935. The most powerful passages come in Dos Passos, Dreiser, and Steinbeck (in The Grapes of Wrath and, especially, In Dubious Battle). More recent labor union history has not attracted such widespread literary interest-both Norma Rae and On the Waterfront deal with exceptional cases. Similarly, descriptions of terrible working conditions-like Orwell's description of coal mining in The Road to Wigan Pier-are basically obsolete. They are, however, still useful in showing employment changes caused by technologi- cal progress, the innate disutility of many kinds of work, and the impor- tance of energy sources to the day-to-day operation of society. Financial institutions have received very little attention in literature. The Federal Reserve System has probably never had even an important support- ing role, although the devil in Goethe's Faust makes the unexpected discovery that money expansion can affect the level of national output. The Rothschilds, How Now Dow Jones, and Trading Places are perhaps the best recent examples linking drama and finance. The classic piece on population and markets is Jonathan Swift's "A Modest Proposal." Like Kenneth Boulding's "green stamp" plan to limit population, Swift's thoughts were tied to market considerations. Swift, however, put Malthus's "positive" checks on the market, whereas Bould- ing's plan priced out Malthus's "preventative" checks. Swift satirically sug- gested that Ireland's "surplus" infants and children could be sold as food -especially to Americans who needed the nourishment and had lower culinary standards. This piece might be considered an early attack on some practitioners of political economy, and definitely as a scathing denounce- ment of inappropriate or inept uses of cost-benefit analysis. In a lighter vein, some literary authors have picked up Veblen's conspicu- ous consumption theory, as well as the idea of a relative-income hypothesis. In J. D. Salinger's Catcher in the Rye, the young hero discovers that it is almost impossible to live with someone who has cheaper suitcases than your own. His roommate tries to cope with this threat by calling the hero's suit- cases "bourgeois," but he later tries to make others believe that the suit- cases belong to him. The hero moves out to take a roommate less desirable in nearly every respect, except for his luggage. The debate on bimetallism, in spite of William Jennings Bryan's famous "cross of gold" speech, is often considered one of the dullest episodes in money and banking or economic history courses. Fortunately, Lyman Frank Baum found it an interesting topic, as did others of the period, and wrote The Wizard of Oz as a populist allegory on the episode. Oz is, of course, the abbreviation for ounce, as in an ounce of silver or gold. In Baum's work (before MGM and Judy Garland), Dorothy walks down the yellow brick (i.e., gold) road in silver, not ruby, slippers. The Scarecrow represents midwestern farmers, the Tin-man stands for urban industrial 298 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION workers, the Wicked Witch of the East symbolizes the large industrial cor- porations and eastern finance, the Witch of the West is drawn from the harsh and malevolent natural forces (particularly drought) facing western farmers, the Cowardly Lion is Bryan, and the Wizard of Oz is the blustery but inept president of the United States. Dorothy is Baum's Everyman.'2 Ideas on a "just price" or reasonable rate of profit are often raised in literature, as in the exchange between Cal and his father in East of Eden. It is interesting, however, that many of the authors never resolve the questions they raise. In Thomas Wolfe's From Death to Morning, the unending debate on such issues becomes the central theme of the story when the men of Old Catawba are asked to consider the fair price and profit for a mule. It is fair to say that questions of equity and personal conflict are at the heart of most literary passages with an economic orientation. After all, literature is an exploration of the human condition and values, as seen both in everyday life and under extraordinary circumstances. Authors often put their characters in situations outside normal experience, but in good literature the intent is most often to say, or at least imply, something about all individuals and human systems in general. Literary writers seem to agree with each other on ideas of responsible in- dividuals who, though they may respond to economic incentives, neverthe- less follow Shakespeare's Antonio and "hold the world but as the world." Another good merchant gone bad is, similarly and inevitably, punished in the third of Alexander Pope's Moral Essays, an epistle to Allen Lord Bathurst "On the Use of Riches." The world has changed a great deal since Shakespeare and Pope, but literary characters still seek Antonio's balance even if their stages seem strangely limited when compared with those of earlier ages. The father in All My Sons finally commits suicide when he realizes that he has viewed his business interests out of all proportion. Young Benjamin in Charles Webb's The Graduate drops out of many pursuits because he does not want to believe that his future is, in one word, "plastics." Even though many authors seem to agree on appropriate individual eco- nomic behavior, there is very little agreement on what kind of economic sys- tem would best promote that behavior, or would be most consistent with the interests of free individuals. Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward and "The Parable of the Water Tank" promote socialist forms of economic or- ganization and cooperation, as does Percy Bysshe Shelly's "Song to the Men of England," to cite only a few examples. On the other hand, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World and Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged offer eloquent defenses of conservative ideas on individual free- dom, growth, and economic efficiency. Moreover, both these authors warn of abuses when economic and political power are concentrated and held by different kinds of public agencies. These arguments, from the right and the left, should sound familiar to economists-exactly the same points have been argued in the professional economic literature for over a hundred years. Summer 1989 299 CONCLUSIONS For economists interested in using literary passages in their teaching and writing, the diversity of passages cited above should provide sufficient promise that acceptable material is available on most topics. Literary authors and their works are no more homogeneous than economists and their works. Like economists, literary authors vary in political beliefs, the depth and breadth of their economic understanding, and even in writing skills. Literary authors are especially important to economists in so far as they, like Keynes's defunct economists, sometimes influence public and scholarly attitudes toward economic issues (Stigler 1982, pp. 1-50). It is hardly surprising that such an extensive and diverse set of literary materials on economic themes should be available. Most social observers, including literary authors of both serious and more commercial works (Beaumont and Fletcher in Shakespeare's time; Jacqueline Suzanne and soap opera scriptwriters in ours), accept economics as an important part of the social fabric, and they face markets that are segmented into groups of consumers with different incomes, educational backgrounds, political lean- ings, and economic interests. At least since the Renaissance-when printed works began to appear in native languages as well as in Latin, and when more people began to acquire formal education-authors with different perspectives on economic and social relationships have found markets for their ideas. Literary diversity develops because any work-even Shakes- peare's, which Ben Jonson recognized as "not of an age but for all time"-is strongly influenced by the life and times of its author. The one area where literary works generally fail to provide useful materials for economists is in the development of a complex set of interre- lated economic actions and consequences. Some writers, like Rand and Bellamy, have tried to capture the effects that market-oriented economists see in the workings of Adam Smith's invisible hand, or the "inevitable con- sequences" that many antimarket economists attribute, following Karl Marx, to the concentrated ownership of the means of production. These at- tempts are rarely completely successful on any level, particularly on the pro- market side where even many sympathetic authors have apparently not understood the idea of using markets to channel potentially antisocial behavior into useful and productive outlets while maintaining high levels of personal freedom for those who are well intentioned. Is it more than coincidence that the authors who produce works that at- tempt to capture a full understanding of any economic system seem to at- tract small numbers of fiercely loyal readers? Whatever the case, the job of explaining how economic concepts are interrelated and how economic sys- tems work and can be evaluated on the important (but admittedly narrow) basis of economic efficiency still falls almost exclusively to economists and economic educators. On many other important topics, however, there are reasonable opportunities for cross-disciplinary work with those who specialize in literature and drama. 300 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION bo]E 0 0 0 z > '0 00 " 0 0 o 0 3 " s V ;g ?.-, 0 ? V V a) .S, . 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I n d o ~ ~ ~ 0ee~ 4 ~ 0: -o E:~l.:k C,.) .o .P 4) 4) d f '0~c - -o ~- - o "0 -a 4)" -C 0.," ~ - 044)~ 4) .0 -Z 0~ - e 0. 0 ~ 4 0. 0 5 .. ~ti ?rIY~ Q ' " 0 a #) 304 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION 0 C0 0 d a)y a)r 's a) 4-o 0 c - Q) a) u tz - 0 u 0 a)7 cm a) a) , m a) .,0 0 o 40 o ,o E: C C: 0 C d 0 00 - a . 5! *9 0 g u z cd z zoo cQ Z wl wl C9 00 aC)?oONfn f 0 Ofn - 0 -4 -4 Go0 "NO It I t I t fn ON C-4 00 It fn 00 fn 00 r- tn 00 00 ?o ? n f ON N O ONON N O ON ON ON 0 a) 6 Cdo 0 0 U j Z z a) 0\ 0a) oa) n oa) na a) ,) 0 4-o\ ~o o Cd W .apa 0 ~tf, e, PI'eZ L. ~40. u 0 (~ Sx z : 4 l t At ~u ~ 0 (o~ a 00 aq6 q6) 0t o Q 0 Z) 0 d q6 q6 Ht 0 0 ~M a a) 00 ~ a) q6) 0 6) q)06 rAJ B A "0 r A 0 Cd 33 ~ ~ x c 07 u Oo ~40. Summer 1989 305 NOTES 1. Joseph Schumpeter introduced several of these ideas in his well-known works, Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy and the History of Economic Analysis. As discussed elsewhere in the paper, Milton Friedman, George Stigler, and others have recently echoed those thoughts. On language, see Neale (1982). 2. When Jacob Marschak was organizing the program for the 1977 Annual Meeting of the American Economic Association, he designated three main themes, including "the boun- daries of economics, with several sessions on how economics has related and might relate to other scientific and humanistic disciplines." (Editor's Introduction, American Eco- nomic Review, May 1978, p. viii) 3. The Friedmans refer specifically to the influence of Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward and approvingly cite the satirical comments on equality of the Dodo from Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. Also see their video program, "Created Equal," from the television series. 4. Such themes often appeared in the popular (and profit-oriented) drama of this period; see Knights (1968). 5. For an introduction to this debate, and for numerous references, see Jefferson (1972) and Aydelotte (1948). 6. See Grampp (1973) and, from a literary viewpoint, Scudder (1899). 7. As professor emeritus, Farnam published Shakespeare's Economics (1931). For a literary perspective on Shakespeare's use of economic imagery, see Heilman (1968). 8. For example, see Paul and Ronald Wonnacott (1979, p. 676), which reprints the passage from Kurt Vonnegut's Welcome to the Monkey House discussed below. 9. Passages cited in this article that have previously appeared in this fashion include excerpts from Twain's A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court (vol. 84, no. 6), Pope's Moral Essays (vol. 85, no. 4), Solzhenitsyn's Cancer Ward (vol. 85, no. 5), Rabelais's Gargantua and Pantagruel (vol. 87, no. 1), and Goethe's Faust (vol. 94, no. 1). 10. Units on economic concepts in children's literature, George Orwell's Animal Farm, and Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman have been printed in the annual Economic Education Experiences of Enterprising Teachers, available from the Joint Council on Economic Education in New York. 11. See, for example, the passages on Davis Matlock, Walter Simmons, "Butch" Weldy, Schroeder the Fisherman, Eugene Carman, and "Ace" Shaw. 12. For a detailed description of the allegorical content in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, see Littlefield (1964). REFERENCES Aydelotte, W. 0. 1948. The England of Marx and Mill as reflected in fiction. Journal of Eco- nomic History, supplement 8, The Tasks of Economic History, 42-58. Becker, G. 1977. Reply to Hirshliefer and Tullock. Journal of Economic Literature 15:506-7. Brandis, R. 1961. The American writer views the American businessman. Quarterly Review of Economics and Business 1:29-38. Farnam, H. W. 1931. Shakespeare's economics. New Haven: Yale University Press. Friedman, M., and R. Friedman. 1980. Free to choose. New York: Harcourt Brace and Jovan- ovich. Galbraith, J. K. 1963. The McLandress dimension. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Grampp, W. D. 1973. Classical economics and its moral critics. History of Political Economy 5:359-74. Heilman, R. B. 1968. The economics of lago and others. Publications of the Modern Lan- guage Association 19:81-85. Hirshliefer, J. 1977. Shakespeare vs. Becker on altruism: The importance of having the last word. Journal of Economic Literature 15:500-502. Jefferson, M. 1972. Industrialization and poverty: In fact and fiction. In The long debate on poverty. London: Institute of Economic Affairs. Jevons, M. 1977. Murder at the margin. Sun Lakes, AZ: Thomas Horton and Daughters. Knights, L. C. 1968. Drama and society in the age of Jonson. New York: W. W. Norton (first published in 1937). Littlefield, H. M. 1964. The Wizard of Oz: Parable on populism. American Quarterly 16: 47-58. 306 JOURNAL OF ECONOMIC EDUCATION Neale, W. C. 1982. Language and economics. Journal of Economic Issues 16:355-69. Norris, F. 1958. The octopus. Edited by Kenneth S. Lynn. Cambridge, MA: Riverside Press (first published in 1901). Schumpeter, J. A. 1942. Capitalism, socialism and democracy. New York: Harper & Row. .. 1954. History of economic analysis. New York: Oxford University Press. Scudder, V. D. 1899. Social ideas in English letters. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin and Co. Spiegel, H. W. 1971. The growth of economic thought. Englewood Cliffs: Prentice-Hall. Stigler, G. J. 1982. The economist as preacher and other essays. Chicago: University of Chi- cago Press. Wonnacott, P., and R. Wonnacott. 1979. Economics. New York: McGraw-Hill. Summer 1989 307 Article Contents p. 291 p. 292 p. 293 p. 294 p. 295 p. 296 p. 297 p. 298 p. 299 p. 300 p. 301 p. 302 p. 303 p. 304 p. 305 p. 306 p. 307 Issue Table of Contents The Journal of Economic Education, Vol. 20, No. 3 (Summer, 1989), pp. 235-328 Front Matter [pp. 246 - 290] In This Issue Research in Economic Education Test Scrambling and Student Performance [pp. 235 - 238] Multiple-Choice Testing: Question and Response Position [pp. 239 - 245] Content Articles in Economics Textbooks, Taxes, and Objectivity in Economics Instruction [pp. 247 - 252] Comments on the Loanable-Funds Approach to Teaching Macroeconomics [pp. 253 - 258] Reply to Comments on the Loanable-Funds Approach to Teaching Macroeconomics [pp. 259 - 260] Graphing the Model or Modeling the Graph? Not-So-Subtle Problems in Linear IS-LM Analysis [pp. 261 - 267] Economic Instruction The Computer in the Teaching of Macroeconomics [pp. 269 - 280] Writing Better Software for Economics Principles Textbooks [pp. 281 - 289] Economics in Literature and Drama [pp. 291 - 307] The Case of Effort Variables in Student Performance [pp. 308 - 313] Professional Information A Historical Note on the Use of Fiction to Teach Principles of Economics [pp. 314 - 320] Report of the American Economic Association Committee on Economic Education [pp. 321 - 322] Regional Papers of Interest to Economic Educators [pp. 323 - 328] Back Matter 
work_bjhttztm7nb4pgwhguqjzz3huq	----	Nothing is fair or good alone Niloo M. Edwards, MDa Kenneth M. Prager, MDb See related article on page 49. It is doubtful if many doctors who actually care for the sick and the infirm, plan their actions on the basis of the predicted effect upon society. Instead, the dominant tradition is for the physician to provide the best care of which he is capable for those who either seek his services or are assigned to his respon- sibility; by and large this is done without regard for the conceivably broader issue of whether treatment is justifiable on social grounds. —T. E. Starzl Transplantation Proceedings, 1966 W e are never more torn between our desire to do what is best for the patient and what is best for society as a whole than in the field of transplantation, where the shortage of organs has led to a policy of distributing this scarce resource on the basis of organ survival rather than strictly on patient need. In medical ethics terminology, it is a conflict between benefi- cence, doing what is best for our patients, and justice, the fair societal allocation of a scarce resource. The article by Laks and associates1 suggests that not only are our current donor selection policies outdated, but so too are our recipient selection criteria, since outcomes using “non-standard” heart donors were comparable with those obtained with conventional donors even when used in less than optimal recipients. The findings suggest an untapped source of donors, thereby increasing the potential donor pool. However, this study also indicates that “alternate list” recip- ients, primarily older patients, can do as well as their younger counterparts despite the handicap of a “non-standard” donor. Since the incidence and prevalence of heart failure rise exponentially with age, this increased demand for organs would greatly aggravate the already serious shortage of donors and more than outweigh the additional number of “non-standard” organ donors, inasmuch as there are more patients with heart failure between the ages of 65 and 70 years than there are from birth to 64 years.2 More important, the findings from the University of California at Los Angeles1 raise questions concerning the ethical basis for age cutoffs. If others substantiate these findings, then transplant programs will have to face the issue of using age per se as a criterion for not offering a heart transplant. Either they can avoid charges of ageism— discrimination based on age— by raising their age cutoffs for standard hearts, or they can find ethical justification for maintaining their current age limits. One can, for example, argue that justice is served by allocating the scarce resource of a human heart to those under a certain age because a younger person has a greater entitlement than an older patient, by virtue of the greater deprivation of years of expected life span that he or she will experience by not receiving the organ. Current United Network for Organ Sharing (UNOS) policy for organ allocation certainly suggests endorsement of this viewpoint by providing potential recipients, younger than age 18 years, with a deliberate advantage by allocating all donors younger than 18 to these recipients first. On the other hand, one can adopt a policy emphasizing allocation of resources on the basis of individual need. Daniel Callahan,3 in his controversial book Setting Limits, suggests that our current principles of providing health care are defined by From the Departments of Surgerya and Medicine, Columbia College of Physicians and Surgeons, and the Departments of Car- diac Transplantationb and Clinical Ethics, Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Center, New York, NY. Received for publication Sept 13, 2002; accepted for publication Oct 1, 2002. Address for reprints: Niloo M. Edwards, MD, 7-435 MHB, 177 Fort Washington Ave, Columbia-Presbyterian Medical Cen- ter, New York, NY 10032 (E-mail: nme3@columbia.edu). J Thorac Cardiovasc Surg 2003;125:23-4 Copyright © 2003 by The American Asso- ciation for Thoracic Surgery 0022-5223/2003 $30.00�0 doi:10.1067/mtc.2003.63 Edwards and Prager Editorials The Journal of Thoracic and Cardiovascular Surgery ● Volume 125, Number 1 23 ED IT O R IA L the philosophy: “What can be done medically ought to be done. What ought to be done ought to be available to all. What ought to be available to all becomes the moral respon- sibility of all.” Certainly, our current health-care allocation philosophy would suggest that health resources should be distributed on the basis of individual need, regardless of productivity, life lived, or social position, and that the chivalric philosophy of “women and children first” is per- haps archaic and certainly too chauvinistic to use as a principle of allocation. Furthermore, not all patients who share the same chro- nologic age share the same physiologic age. Although not explicitly stated, it would appear that older patients selected for the “alternate” list were physiologically “younger” than their counterparts, who did not make this secondary list. Therefore, the broad acceptance of chronologically older patients without consideration of their physiologic age would result in poorer outcomes and poorer use of this scarce resource. The tempestuous discussion that this article must gener- ate is as important as the clinical ramifications, since sails of mechanical cardiac support are clearly visible on the hori- zon. Much as we would like to insulate our patient care role, we share a larger responsibility to all patients and, indeed, to society as a whole. Since its introduction in 1968, heart transplantation has extended thousands of lives both quantitatively and quali- tatively. In addition, the ethically sensitive process of se- lecting candidates has proceeded remarkably well because of scrupulous adherence to objective criteria of physiologic need. Subjective questions of individual worth have been assiduously avoided, and the playing field has been kept as level as possible. The findings by Laks and associates have provided us with a mixed blessing. While demonstrating that older patients with poorer donor hearts can survive nearly as well as younger patients with better hearts, they have forced us to consider whether and how to place limits on those who can benefit from this awesome technology. Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbour’s creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone. —Ralph Waldo Emerson Each and All References 1. Laks H, Marelli D, Fonarow GC, Hamilton MA, Moriguchi JD, Ardehali A, et al. Use of two recipient lists for adults requiring heart transplantation. J Thorac Cardiovasc Surg. 2001;125:49-59. 2. Robbins MA, O’Connell JB. Economic impact of heart failure. In: Rose EA, Stevenson LW, editors. Management of end-stage heart disease. Philadelphia,: Lippincott-Raven; 1998. 3. Callahan D. Setting limits: medical goals in an aging society. Wash- ington (DC): Georgetown University Press; 1995. Editorials Edwards and Prager 24 The Journal of Thoracic and Cardiovascular Surgery ● January 2003 ED ITO R IA L 
work_blvuczqrnrhdlds3jhxl4kpr54	----	262 joseph a. jones et al. Critical Reflection or Existential Trap: Are We Making Too Much of Scientific Rigor in a Dynamic Business World? Joseph A. Jones, Ashley A. Miller, Michael J. Sarette, Rachael M. Johnson-Murray, and Alex Alonso Society for Human Resource Management Ralph Waldo Emerson is known to have said, “the greatest wonder is that we can see these trees and not wonder more.” As industrial and organiza- tional (I-O) psychologists, we often encounter this very dilemma when we examine how numerous professions rise and fall in relevance. More recently, however, we have encountered this dilemma from an existential perspective as we strive to understand the evolution of our own profession and the situa- tional characteristics making change inevitable. We have fallen into a trap— we, too, now look at all of our practices, aiming to reconfigure the makeup of our profession while losing sight of the macrotrends affecting more than just our evolved existence. Rather than focusing on the smaller issue first, we need to start by examining the broader issues affecting it. This is not to say that I-O psychologists should avoid concerning them- selves with poor-quality and unsubstantiated approaches to solving organi- zational and individual employee challenges. I-O psychologists should natu- rally be concerned with these potential limiters of professional success. How- ever, are we missing the forest for the trees in focusing too heavily on the neg- ative effects of potentially bad practices on our profession—and not on how the rapid changes in the broader external environment are influencing our approach to these practices? We suggest the answer here is yes, and in doing this, we are missing opportunities to make a real impact in shaping effective talent management practices today—and, more importantly, tomorrow. A Matter of Perspective? Talent management practices that do not work as well as they should, or as well as they are professed to work, can certainly have a negative side. They can harm business performance, restrict employment opportunities Joseph A. Jones, Society for Human Resource Management; Ashley A. Miller, Society for Human Resource Management; Michael J. Sarette, Society for Human Resource Management; Rachael M. Johnson-Murray, Society for Human Resource Management; Alex Alonso, Society for Human Resource Management. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Joseph A. Jones, Soci- ety for Human Resource Management, 1800 Duke Street, 2nd Floor, Alexandria, VA 22314. E-mail: josephandrewjones@gmail.com https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at mailto:josephandrewjones@gmail.com https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 https://www.cambridge.org/core too much scientific rigor in business? 263 for workers, and lead to on-the-job mistakes and safety issues, to name a few (Sheehan & Anderson, 2015). These risks can increase substantially as the stakes of the work being performed rise. That said, approaching new and changing business practices (or inno- vations in other fields) primarily from the perspective of the dangers they pose, as opposed to opportunities for growth, advancement, or refinement of long-standing theories, limits our ability to build off these practices. Yes, some things are new and untested (and sometimes strange in the eyes of I-O). Our job is not, however, to stop the bus and say “wait, we first must test the engine and the wheels and the brakes to make sure it is all safe to go forward.” For buses, that makes sense. Unfortunately, such deliberation is often not an option in today’s fast-paced and highly competitive busi- ness environment. We must frequently test what we are doing while we are doing it. The good news is, we already have been doing this testing for decades— with concurrent and predictive validation, for example. This is critical for situations where the potential negative impact is significant, where the need for and availability of large samples exist, and where time and resources are adequate. We just need to get better at leveraging our previous work to de- velop new solutions for today’s challenges through a new lens. The existence of new talent management fads and trends claiming to be the next best thing without the empirical evidence backing them up is nothing new in the business world. Rather, it can be argued that it is more of an artifact of the need for organizations and business professionals to remain competitive in an increasingly crowded global marketplace and keep up with the rapid pace of innovation and new technologies (Dyer & Shafer, 1998). There will always be problems with talent management. We cannot put an end to bad talent management, however, any more than we can get people to stop self-diagnosing and treating medical issues with home remedies they read about on the internet. Instead of embarking on a singular mission to eradicate bad talent management, we suggest we are better off by addressing what we can do to build on these frontier and emerg- ing practices and use their often-innovative foundations to create more ef- fective and less costly practices. Further, we as a profession need to become better at understanding and addressing the bigger issues—the macrolevel trends within which these practices emerge. What “Bigger Issues”? Shifting our attention from a narrow issue like bad talent management prac- tices to broader issues like how societal and macrolevel trends change the way we must approach these practices redirects the issue from the threats in our work itself (on which we are fixating) to the threats from outside our https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 https://www.cambridge.org/core 264 joseph a. jones et al. work for which we need to account. Doing so provides a better vantage point of the sources of “the bad” and allows us to step away from our “professional ego.” This is critical for individual and collective success in today’s mod- ern and global workforce in which societies trend away from professional structuralization toward a more self-organizing network of work roles and responsibilities (Susskind & Susskind, 2015). This new perspective also pro- vides us with a broader view of what we can do for business, society, and our profession (Ryan & Ford, 2010). Such a perspective also better positions us for identifying how we train future I-O psychologists (and others) to perform such work. To shift our mindset, we must refrain from looking at talent manage- ment practices—and our approach to those practices—as if they are the key to solving our profession’s existential crisis. We agree with Rotolo et al. (2018) that we need to stop thinking and behaving like either scientists or practi- tioners. Rather, we should be thinking like scientist-practitioners in every- thing that we do (Kurtessis et al., 2017; Lefkowitz, 2008), regardless of what context and setting we find ourselves in. Of key importance to this point is that no matter what we do as I-O psychologists, we must think not only in terms of evidence-based validity of inferences from and about our practices, but of their business and social contexts. This means we should continue building and applying approaches that are scientifically justified, while also increasing our focus on addressing issues of utility (i.e., efficiency) and human impact (Macan & Highhouse, 1994). These are not new issues for I-O psychology, but our profession con- tinues to underassess them. Before we can focus on selective issues relevant to our profession (e.g., bad talent management practices), we must first un- derstand the broader contributing issues, so that we can account for them when approaching the issues so salient to us. It is only through this under- standing that we can begin to focus on how we, individually and as a pro- fession, can ensure the organizations, people, and societies we serve do not struggle or fail. Consider talent acquisition practices as an example. Emerging societal and macrolevel trends like the gig economy, reframing of the employment contract, and the impact of the war for talent have drastically changed the way we source talent today. Perhaps the problem at hand is not “bad” tal- ent management practices, but how these societal and macrolevel trends require a radical change in the way we approach talent acquisition prac- tices. Practices that were effective in yesterday’s world of work might not be today; and if forecasters (e.g., economists, data scientists) continue to be correct in even some of their predictions, they certainly will not be effec- tive tomorrow. Rather, tomorrow’s workplace will continue to be drastically and rapidly changed by macrotrends such as innovations in technology and https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 https://www.cambridge.org/core too much scientific rigor in business? 265 artificial intelligence, shifts in the demographic composition of the work- force and global economic power, and increases in urbanization and natural resource scarcity (PricewaterhouseCooper, 2017). What Can We Do? Today’s business landscape demands organizations be both judicious and effective with their time, human capital, and monetary investments. As such, organizations will continually search for and consider new ways of achieving greater return on investment despite the lack of empiri- cal evidence or the I-O profession’s endorsement. To increase I-O psy- chology’s contributions to the business world and to the broader soci- ety, we suggest some additional ideas for each of us to consider as I-O scientist-practitioners. We can continue to reinforce the effectiveness of established prac- tices, support the emergence and expansion of new practices, and serve as the scientist-practitioners who pave the way for practices that are still on the frontier of tomorrow. To do this, we must also validate, debunk, and modify theory and practice, learning throughout the process and ad- vocating for doing things in more effective ways. I-O psychologists must work to enable organizations to separate the “wheat from the chaff,” as Rotolo et al. (2018) argue. We believe a key to doing this successfully is by assessing the effects of macrolevel trends on how organizations and people engage in talent management practices. We suggest that many of these “AIO” talent management practices have evolved out of business’s and society’s need to keep up with and adapt in the face of these soci- etal and macrolevel trends we are still trying to grasp. Consider this our signal that we must evolve and adapt in alignment with the organiza- tions, employees, and stakeholders we serve and the demands they now face. We can leverage Rotolo et al.’s (2018) four-quadrant taxonomy of talent management practices as a guideline from which to identify specific, prac- tical, efficient approaches that I-O psychologists can use in advancing the organizations, people, and societies they serve. Identifying and acting upon ways to help advance organizations within each of the four quadrants is a good foundation, but only with an understanding of how each of those mi- crolevel practices fits in a broader macrolevel framework. It may be useful to view these practices as three continuums—(1) from idea to evidence-based, (2) from frontier to established, and (3) from low value-adding to high value- adding—rather than as four mutually exclusive quadrants. Further, focusing on one place in the continuum does not mean we should stop focusing on others (even if temporarily). We recognize the need for I-O psychology to better “keep up with the Joneses”; however, we must also be careful not to https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 https://www.cambridge.org/core 266 joseph a. jones et al. stagnate progress in other practices that might be more or well-established already. We can accept that I-O psychology is not the only profession capable of conducting sound work and research in the practices we focus on as I- O psychologists. Rather than defaulting to skepticism regarding AIO and “popularist science,” we should adopt a mindset of learning and innova- tion. Maybe some of these practices are not perfect, but can we not in- stead learn what is known thus far, dig in, and find ways to make them better? Organizations are not forced to pursue only one of two mutu- ally exclusive paths in addressing talent management issues. Management does not always oversimplify, underappreciate, or lack understanding. Other professions are not indisputably deficient in expertise compared with I- O psychology. To think that any of these statements is always the case is to miss opportunities to advance talent management practices, organiza- tions, and, by default, the I-O psychology profession. With this in mind, now is the time to seize these opportunities and start collaborating with others. References Dyer, L., & Shafer, R. A. (1998). From human resource strategy to organizational effectiveness: Lessons from research on organizational agility. CAHRS Working Paper Series, 125. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University ILR School. Retrieved from https://digitalcommons.ilr.cornell.edu/cgi/viewcontent. cgi?article=1124&context=cahrswp. Kurtessis, J. N., Waters, S. D., Alonso, A., Jones, J. A., & Oppler, S. H. (2017). Traditional science– practice research in IO: Are we missing the trees for the forest? Industrial and Organizational Psychology: Perspectives on Science and Practice, 10(4), 570–576. Lefkowitz, J. (2008). To prosper, organizational psychology should ... expand the values of organiza- tional psychology to match the quality of its ethics. Journal of Organizational Behavior, 29(4), 439–453. Macan, T. H., & Highhouse, S. (1994). Communicating the utility of human resource activities: A survey of I/O and HR professionals. Journal of Business & Psychology, 8(4), 425–436. Ones, D. S., Kaiser, R. B., Chamorro-Premuzic, T., & Svensson, C. (2017). Has industrial- organizational psychology lost its way? The Industrial-Organizational Psychologist, 55(2). Re- trieved from http://www.siop.org/tip/april17/lostio.aspx. PricewaterhouseCooper (PwC). (2017). Workforce of the future: The competing forces shap- ing 2030. Retrieved from https://www.pwc.com/gx/en/services/people-organisation/ workforce-of-the-future/workforce-of-the-future-the-competing-forces-shaping-2030-pwc. pdf Rotolo, C. T., Church, A. H., Adler, S., Smither, J. W. Colquitt, A. L., Shull, A. C., … & Foster, G. (2018). Putting an end to bad talent management: A call to action for the field of I-O psychology. Industrial and Organizational Psychology: Perspectives on Science and Practice, 11(2), 176–219. Ryan, A. M., & Ford, J. K. (2010). Organizational psychology. Industrial & Organizational Psychology, 3(3), 241–258. doi:10.1111/j.1754-9434.2010.01233.x Sheehan, M., & Anderson, V. (2015, Winter). Talent management and organizational diversity: A call for research. Human Resource Development Quarterly, 26(4), 349–358. doi:10.1002/hrdq.21247. Susskind, R., & Susskind, D. (2015). The future of the professions: How technology will transform the work of human experts. Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://digitalcommons.ilr.cornell.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1124&context=cahrswp http://www.siop.org/tip/april17/lostio.aspx https://www.pwc.com/gx/en/services/people-organisation/workforce-of-the-future/workforce-of-the-future-the-competing-forces-shaping-2030-pwc.pdf https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1754-9434.2010.01233.x https://doi.org/10.1002/hrdq.21247 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/iop.2018.16 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Typology of Organizational Psychologists The Pure Scientist The Scientist-Practitioner The Practitioner-Scientist The Pure Practitioner Systemic Pressures Other Barriers to the Scientist-Practitioner Ideal Overreliance on Theory Temporal Mismatch Recommendations 1. Reduce Our Reliance on Theory 2. Improve the Speed of Our Pipelines to Production 3. Change Incentive Structures to Reward a Wider Range of Work Conclusion References References On Loving Theory Organizations as the Needed Level of Analysis On Organizations as Reciprocating Systems Summary References Reference Empathy for Consumers of TM-Related Communication Toward More Leader-Friendly Communication Recommended Actions References Adopt More Action Research Selling I-O Psychology: If You Can’t Beat Them, Join Them For the Sake of What? Humanitarian I-O Psychology Conclusion References References References A Matter of Perspective? What “Bigger Issues”? What Can We Do? References 
work_blzgzdodljbwzk5ews4m62qrca	----	Middle East Technical University OpenCourseWare Skip to main content Side panel You are not logged in. (Log in) English ‎(en)‎ English ‎(en)‎ Türkçe ‎(tr)‎ English ‎(en)‎ English ‎(en)‎ Türkçe ‎(tr)‎ Hundreds of freely accessible courses from METU Browse Courses General Chemistry Laboratory Experiments Go to Course General Physics Laboratory Experiments Go to Course METU OCW A free and open educational resource for faculty, students, and self-learners throughout the world. METU OCW does not grant credits or degrees and does not provide access to faculty. METU OCW gives you open access to the materials used in a variety of courses. Currently, 171 open educational resources are available. How to Add Your Course To develop OpenCourseWare content and share existing materials, you just need to contact us via our email its@metu.edu.tr. The rest of the process, digitalizing your materials and uploading digital materials to the system, will be done by us. In addition, if you wish, we can record your lectures and add the content of the course. Our Awards METU OCW is awarded to: -- Open Education For Excellence Outstanding Site Award 2016 -- TBD Stars of Informatics 2013 E-Education Category 1st Prize -- Open Education For Excellence Multimedia Course 2011 -- TBD Informatics 2011 Best Educational Site Award Popular Courses Davranışsal Esneme - BŞKAA1 DNYÜA MMKÜÜN Advanced Elasticity Afet Etiği İnsan Bilgisayar Etkileşimi Probability And Random Variables Contemporary Sociology Theory Theories of Instruction Mekanizma Tekniği Home Search courses: Skip course categoriesCourse categories Expand all Economic and Administrative Sciences Architecture (1) Arts and Sciences Education Engineering Foreign Languages Informatics Institute of Applied Mathematics (1) Ortaöğretim Öğrencileri İçin (6) Diğer Kaynaklar (2) Skip Visitor Locations Visitor Locations Home METU OpenCourseWare Member of National OpenCourseWare Consortium Open Education Consortium Contact METU Instructional Technology Support Office E-mail: odtuzem@metu.edu.tr All the course materials presented are licensed with Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike License. Get the mobile app 
work_bmt7tpcnl5gx3o57bdrtwgzv2q	----	Chicago New in Paper, Spring 1983 THE RHETORIC OF FICTION Second Edition Wayne C. Booth This new edition features an extensive Afterword in which Booth discusses important developments in rhetorical criticism during the past twenty years. A new bibliography covering those years, and a supplementary index to both bibliographies provide a unique resource both for newcomers to fiction studies and for those who have known and used this classic work over the years. $9.95 572 pages SENTENCES Howard Nemerov “Nemerov [has] continued to accommodate himself to the literary tradition without falling back on parody.... 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work_bodp7ncv55e6vctwporamdyvrm	----	http://dx.doi.org/10.14577/kirua.2016.18.3.1 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 1 1. 서 론 1.1 연구의 배경 목 우리가 건축설계를 할 때, 우선 주어진 설계조건에 맞춰 서 자신의 경험과 철학을 가지면서 개념을 설정하게 되는 데, 구는 배치와 평면에서, 구는 시각 인 경 형 태에서, 구는 공간 형성 사용을 연상하면서 계획방 향을 설정하게 된다. 자신의 주 에 입각한 이러한 개념은 시 흐름과 주변 여건에 따라서 다양하게 변화하지만, 자 연환경에 한 인식과 외경을 기반으로 하는 개념만큼은 구에게나 꾸 히 지속된다. 건축가 ‘ 랭크 로이드 라이트’(Frank Lloyd Wright, 1867-1959) 역시 그에게서 자연은 한 스승이었다. 20세 기 그가 경험하 던 빅토리안(Victorian), 싱 (Shingle), 리챠드슨(Richardson) 풍에서 자신만의 독특한 이리 (Prairie) 스타일을 창출하 으며, 암흑기라 할 수 있는 1920 년 를 거치면서, 1930년 이후부터는 건축과 자연경 에 * 정회원, 청주 건축학과 교수, 공학박사 (교신 자, E-mail: taiplan@cju.ac.kr) 한 다양한 성격이 그의 작품에 투명하게 나타났다. 그의 수많은 주택들은 자연을 시한 기의 건축 원형을 토 로 범 한 패턴을 보여 주었다. 라이트가 꾸 히 주창하여 온 그의 유기 건축은 자연 의 지에 뿌리를 두면서 서서히 자라는 식물과 같은 것이 었다. 건축은 항상 지에서 시작하고, 지와 련하여 둥 지를 틀면서, 지를 우선 으로 고려하는 것이었다. 한 지에 안착하려는 경향이 강할수록 하늘의 인지는 더욱 선명하여지면서, 건축은 자연과 일체가 되었다. 그의 건축 에서 지와 하늘과 련된 디자인 개념 디테일은 다른 어떤 기능, 재료 시스템에 우선하 다. 이에 따라 본 연구에서는 자연속의 지와 하늘에 한 그의 사고 형성 개과정을 살펴보고, 그러한 사고가 그 의 주택에 어떻게 반 되었는지에 하여 분석하고자 한다. 분석의 틀로서는 건축의 3부구성에 해당하는 기단, 몸체, 지 붕으로 구분하여 기단은 지와 하는 부분, 몸체는 외벽체 와 내외부공간의 상호 입이 이루어지는 부분, 그리고 하늘 과 련된 지붕부분으로 나 어 살펴본다. 연구 상인 라이 트의 주택은 19세기 말에서 1910년 의 이리 시기와 1930년 이후의 유소니언(Usonian) 시기에 지어진 것이다. 라이트의 주택에 나타난 지와 하늘의 인식에 한 연구 Frank Lloyd Wright's Houses in relation to the Earth and the Sky 김 태 * 1) Kim, Tai Young Abstract Frank Lloyd Wright(1867-1959) had the confident concept that architecture should be at home in nature. His architecture was meant to bear an intimate relation to the earth and the sky, and should look as though it began there at the ground and contrasted with the sky. In handling all the details of house design elements, his efforts for being married to the ground was to conceive the void of the sky. This study is to research his thinking process and its development to the earth and the sky, and to analyze how such thought could reflect his houses. The mass of house are divided into three parts such as the foundation or base, body, and roof. These parts are respectively related to the earth and the sky. This study goes on regarding them as an analytical framework. The subjects of study are the Prairie houses in the early 20th century and the Usonian houses after 1930's. As results of this study, the earlier foundation as a platform appeared as a base and water table, and a strong baseline pressed the structures into the soil in the Prairie houses. The direct contact of wood and brick to ground were dominant details after Wiley house(1934). The base was almost invisible to the eye in the Usonian houses. Secondly, the pierlike shapes and delicate friezes of walls were anchored to the ground, and horizontal bands as trims or copings also got close to the earth. These characters had disappeared after the Allen house(1917), all components including exterior walls had been unified with the grid patterns in the Usonian houses. Thirdly, the overhanging cantilever roof had got to the earthbound by the reflection of shadow as well as their evident horizontal. He lowered the roof, lengthened and brought it closer to the ground. In this way, Frank Lloyd Wright intended his houses to be at home in nature. And also he tried to bind the houses to the earth and contrasted them with the sky. The houses would perform their highest function in relation to the earth and sky. Keywords : Frank Lloyd Wright, Prairie House, Usonian House, Earthbound, Sky-consciousness 주 요 어 : 랭크 로이드 라이트, 이리 주택, 유소니언 주택, 지로의 합일(地合), 허공인식 2 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 1.2 라이트의 주택 련 연구동향 1) 이리와 유소니언 주택 20세기 10년간(1901～1910)에 세워진 이리 주택1) 은 라이트의 사상을 가장 잘 나타낸 독창 인 술품으로, 이것은 평면, 규모, 가격, 치, 재료 지붕 모양에 따라 분류될 수 있으나, 근본 으로는 재료의 특성과 자연환경과 의 계를 표 한 것이었다.2) 1901년 3월 헐 하우스(Hull house)에서 연설한 ‘기계의 술과 수공 ’(The Art and Craft of Machine) 이후, 기계와 자연에 한 범 한 사색을 통하여 이리 주택의 근간 인 6개 건축제안인3) 단순성과 평정성, 다양성, 건축과 지와 의 계, 자연색, 재료 특성, 건축물의 성격을 공식화하 다. 1920년 들어서면서 캘리포니아에서의 텍스타일 블록 (textile boock) 시기를 거쳐 1929년 공항 이후, 주택공사 비를 감하고, 래의 형식과 사회 습에 따른 쓸데없는 주택규모를 이면서, 여성의 지 향상과 함께 주부의 공간 을 주택 뒤편에서 심으로 옮긴 유소니언 주택4)이 등장하 다. 반 으로 이리 주택보다 거실을 심으로 하는 가족의 단란함을 증가시켜 주었다. 이들의 건축 특징은 작은 방, 정원과 직결된 커다랗고 개방 인 거실, 창고를 개방한 차고, 력난방식5) 온수난 방, 길게 드러낸 슬라 지붕과 고측창(clerestory), 미리 제 작된 벽체와 가구 선반 등이다. 2) 국내외 연구동향 라이트의 생 에 발표된 자료는 작품 평 , 자서 , 그리고 강연집이 있다. 작품 평 으로는 구다임 (Frederick Gutheim)의 작품 모음집(1941년), 라이트와 러 셀 히치코크가 함께 제작한 ‘In the Nature of Materials’(, 1942년), 그리고 카우 만의 ‘An American Architecture’( 1955년)가 있다. 라이트의 자서 은 1943년에 간행되었으 며, 1977년 재 되었다. 한 건축 잡지에 기고한 원고, 린스턴 학 6강좌, 시카고 학 4강연, 유럽의 강연 등을 수록한 3권의 강연집으로 ‘The Natural House’(1954), ‘A Testament’(1957), ‘The Living City’(1958)가 있다. 1959년 라이트의 사후 호라이즌(Horizon) 출 사와 빈센트 스컬리 에 의해 작품집(1960)이 집 성되었다. 1898년에 건립된 라 1) Winslow(1893),Heller(1896),Husser(1899),Willits(1901),Hilside HomeSchoolⅡ(1901),Heurtley(1902),Gale/Martin/Cheney (1904),Glasner(1905)/Tomek(1907),Robie(1909)/Coonley Playhouse(1912), Booth/Bach(1915) 주택 등 2) Henry Russell Hitchcock, In the Nature of Materials, Duell, Sloan and pearce, N. Y, 1942, p.39 3) Robert C. Twombly, Frank Lloyd Wright His Life and His Architecture, John Wiley&Sons, N.Y, 1979, pp.107～108 4) Jacobs First/Hanna(1936),Rebuhn(1937),SuntopHomes/Manson (1938),Pauson/Bazett/Stevens/LloydLewis/Rosenbaum/Pope/ Goetsch-Winckler/Schwarts/Sturges/Pew(1939), Richardson (1941), Jacobs Second(1943), Miller(1946), Albert Adelman /Sol Friedman.(1948), Laurent(1949), Keys/David Wright/ Palmer(1950), Benjamin Adelman(1951), Schultz(1957) 주택 등 5) F. L. Wright, The Natural House, Horizon Press, 1954, p.99 이트 자택 스튜디오를 재생하려는 재단이 1974년에 설 립되면서 이 건축물의 보존 활용방안에 해 꾸 히 논 의를 벌여오다가 1977년부터 2개년에 걸쳐 실행에 옮겨졌 으며, 1990년 까지 지속되면서 완성되었다.6) 이후 계속하여 라이트의 작품집 발간 시회 개최와 함께, 그의 사상과 작품에 한 연구가 진행되었다. 기7)에 해서는 1979년 톰블리(Twombly) 연구를 시작으로 개되 었으며, 이외에도 자연과 건축 원리8), 주택평면과 내부공 간9), 건축재료10), 유럽과 일본에서의 활동11) 등이 있다. 라이트 련 국내 연구는 여러 학회에서 다방면으로 많 은 연구업 을 보이고 있다. 조경분야에서 낙수장의 사례를 언 하면서 자연환경을, 생태건축분야에서는 생태 특성을, 의료복지시설분야에서는 치유 환경 특성을 다루고 있다. 한 실내디자인분야에서는 실내 공간, 주택평면, 주택창문, 그리고 가구디자인에 이르기까지 범 하게 다루고 있다. 그리고 건축분야에서는 라이트의 자연 유기성, 주택평 면 각종 건축요소에 한 연구12)뿐만 아니라 최근 라이 트의 한국 온돌체험 개과정, 라이트 건축과 함께 진행 되었던 서양의 래그머티즘과의 연 성, 그리고 주택 공간 구조의 시각 분석 등 깊이 있는 연구13)가 진행되었다. 라이트 끊임없이 추구해온 자연에 한 외경이라든가, 지의 건축, 재료의 솔직한 사용 등에 한 수많은 연구에도 6) The plan for restoration and adaptive use of the frank lloyd wright home and studio, The Univ.of Chicago Press, 1977, 1978 7) Robert C. Twombly, F.L.Wright His Life and His Architecture, John Wiley&Sons, N.Y, 1979 Neil Levine, The Architecture of F.L.Wright, Princeton Univ.1996 Robert McCarter, F.L.Wright, Reaktion Books Ltd, 2006 8) Donald Hoffman Sommer, F.L.Wright Architecture Nature (1986)/Understanding F.L.Wright's Architecture(1995),Dover Publication Inc., 1986 Robert McCarter Editer, On and By F.L.Wright, Phaidon, 2005 Paul Laseau, F.L.Wright : between principle and form, Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1992 9) Grant Hilderbrand, The Wright Space(1992)/The Wright Space Pattern & Meaning in F.L.Wright's House(1997), Univ. of Washington Press./Gail Satler, F.L.Wright's Living Space, Northern Illinois Univ. Press, 1999 10) Terry L. Patterson, F.L.Wright and the Meaning of Materials, VNR, N.Y, 1994 11) Anthony Alfofsin, F.L.Wright-Europe and Beyond, Univ. of California Press, 1999 Kevin Nute, F.L.Wright and Japan, London and N.Y, 2000 12) 김태 , 건축조형 리에 있어서 자연 유기성에 한 연구, 서울 석사논문 1981. 12 최홍범, 조창한, F. L. WRIGHT주택의 평면구성 변화에 한 연구, 한건축학회 학술논문집, 1987.4 13) 김남응, 장재원, 임진택, 랭크 로이드 라이트의 온돌체험과 그의 건축작품에의 용과정 의미에 한 고찰, 한건축 학회논문집 계획계, 2005.9/신유림, 임석재, 랭크 로이드 라 이트 건축의 래그머티즘 의의에 한 연구, 한건축학 회논문집 계획계, 2007.1/김경연, 윤성규, 병권, 민나라, 시 각 인지 범 에서 본 랭크 로이드 라이트 주택의 공간 구조 분석 연구, 한건축학회 학술발표 회 논문집, 2013.10 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 3 불구하고, 그의 이러한 사상과 련하여 건축요소와 디테일 의 처리를 어떻게 해 왔는가에 한 연구는 주로 하나의 상을 심으로 한 연구를 제외하고는 극히 드물게 나타났다. 1.3 라이트에게 있어서 지와 하늘 라이트에게서 자연은 잘 조화된 질서 속에 생겨난 유기 일성(organic integrity)이면서 동시에 유기 단순성 (organic simplicity)이기도 하다. 체 으로 평정하면서, 끊임없이 변화하며 반복되는 하나의 일 유기체이며, 동 시에 모든 구조를 추상화(abstraction)하는 원천이었다. 유기 일성으로의 자연은 건축물을 지에 편안하게 안착시키고, 살아있는 식물과 친숙한 계를 갖게 하는 것 이다. 모든 생활의 변화를 담고 있는 건축물을 자연이 감싸 주는 것이다. 라이트 주택의 평화롭고, 풍요로운 아름다움 은 지와 하늘 사이의 열린 계(the open relation), 이들 의 드넓은 펼쳐짐(the extreme breadth)에서 온 것이다. 에 머슨14)은 “랜드스 이 에서 놀라운 경은 하늘과 지면이 만나는 데에서 생겨난다.”고 하 다.15) 유기 단순성, 추상화의 원천으로서의 자연은 상물의 모든 형식에서 구조의 기본패턴 내 리듬을 발견하는 것이다. 라이트는 말하길, 우리가 사물을 아름답게 느낄 때, 그것은 우리가 그 사물에서 올바름을 인지한 것이며, 동시 에 자연에 일 으로 내재되어 있는 섬유질 같은 조직 (fabric)을 보았기 때문이라고 하 다. 이와 같이 라이트는 자연의 지와 하늘의 무한한 자유 속에서 자연의 질서를 찾고자 하면서, 지와 가까이 다가 가면서 합치되려는 지면감(sense of earth)을 보이고, 동시 에 하늘을 배경으로 하는 형태 윤곽에서 공(void)을 더욱 인식시키고자 하 던 것이다. 이러한 개념을 달성하기 해 주택의 다른 모든 물리 요소를 인간 척도에 상응하여 극 소화시킨 것이라 할 수 있다. 2. 지에 한 부분 2.1 기단과 토 라이트는 “건축물에서 땅(earth)에 평행한 면들은 지면 (ground)과 동일해야 하고, 지면에 속하도록 해야 한다” 고 말하 다. 주택이 지면에서 시작한 것처럼 보여야한다는 그 의 생각은 돌출한 기단(base)으로 토 (foundation)를 명확 하게 하면서 지면에 고착시키는 것이었다.16) 바닥면과 지면 14) 라이트의 자연에 한 사상은 원 사고방식이 경험에서 나올 수 없고, 경험 에 선험 으로 존재한다는 헤겔과 칸 트의 이론을 발 시킨 19세기 에머슨(Ralph Waldo Emerson)을 심으로 한 월주의(transcendentalism)의 향에서 나타났다. Robert Vickery, The Transcendental Dream: Frank Lloyd Wright and Suburb, Architectural Design, 1978, 8/9, pp. 512～515. 15) Donald Hoffman Sommer, F. L. Wright Architecture & Nature, Dover Publication Inc., 1986, p.14 16) The Natural House, p.16 의 평행한 수평선은 활함과 친숙한 스 일 을 제공하 다. 주택이 지면과 만나 는 곳에서, 라이트는 뚜렷한 기단선 (baseline)을 선호하 다. 토 는 건축물을 세우기 한 단단한 기 단과 하 (下臺)인 워 터 테이블17)(water table)로 구성되었다. 러스킨 역시 건물 이 지면에 닿는 방식, 땅으로의 무게는 분명해야 한다고 하 면서, “토 와 벽체의 계는 발과 동물의 계와 같다. 토 는 벽체보다도 넓은 기다란 발이다. 토 에 벽체가 서 고, 벽체가 지면으로 가라앉히지 않도록 한다. 그리하여 이 것은 안정감이라는 요소가 에 명확해야 함으로, 지면 에서 구조물의 일부가 되어야 한다.”고 하 다.18) 의 토 는 랫포옴(platform)으로서 지면보다 높은 치에 있는 1층 벨까지 이었으나, 라이트의 주택은 낮은 기단과 비흘림막이로 구성되었다. 이리 시기의 ‘ 슬로 우 주택’(1893년, Figure 5)에서 토 는 지면을 서 세운 것이 아니라 땅속을 르고 있는 것처럼 보이고, 유소니언 시기의 ‘제이콥스 주택’(1937년, Figure 8)의 바닥 슬라 는 땅속에 심어진 후에 안정하다고 싶을 만한 깊이에서 시작되 었다. 한, 모든 주택이 지면에서 시작되어야 한다는 생각은 기존의 지하실을 제거하게 하 으며, 동결선 아래 3.5-4피 트(106～120cm) 는 신에 16인치(40.6cm) 깊이의 얕은 트 치를 서 자갈로 채워 배수를 원활하게 하는 ‘건식 벽 체기 ’(dry wall footing) 방식을 채택하도록 하 다.19) 2.2 워터 테이블 라이트의 많은 작품에서, 수평성과 지면과의 계에 한 심은 목조의 제한된 내구성으로 말미암아 표 하는데 부 정 인 향을 끼쳤다. 기 회반죽 벽체의 주택에서 지면 에 거의 닿는 목재 돌림띠가 있었지만, 실제 으로, 목재가 흙에 한다는 것은 목재의 성질과는 상치되는 것이었다. 라이트의 이리 기 목조주택은 콘크리트 혹은 석재 기단 에 목재 워터 테이블을 얹힘으로써, 목재와 지면이 물리 으로 상치되는 을 보완하 다. 유소니언 주택에서 는 목재와 석재 기단이 명확하게 병치되었으며, 지면으로 17) 조 조에서 외부 벽체 하부 지부분에 돌 는 벽돌로 쌓 은 것을 하 (下臺, plinth) 는 지복석(地覆石)이라 한다. 이는 건물에 안정감과 견고성을 더해주며, 오염방지 등의 미 효과가 있다. 장기인, 벽돌, 보성각, 2002, 126쪽. 여기서는 기단 에 놓인 외부 걸 받이를 의미하는 것으로, 라이트가 언 한 ‘워터 테이블’이란 용어를 그 로 사용하기로 한다. 18) F. L. Wright Architecture & Nature, p.7 19) The Natural House, pp.142～147 Figure 1. Wall of Prairie house 4 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 목재 마감이 확장되었다.20) Figure 2. Water Table Frank. Thomas House, 1901/Frederick C. Robie House, 1909 건축물의 안정감은 돌출된 기단에서 뿐만 아니라 기단 에 놓인 워터 테이블로 더욱 강화된다. 라이트가 언 한 돌출한 기단은 이를 말하는 것으로 기단 에서 시작하여 비흘림을 막으면서, 구조 으로 안정하게 한다. 이는 벽돌 조에 한정된 것은 아니더라도, 디테일의 시각 효과는 벽 돌조 외벽체에서 가장 명확하게 나타난다. 표 인 사례로 는 ‘토마스 주택’(1901년), ‘토멕 주택’(1907년), ‘로비 주 택’(1909년) 등이 있다(Figure 2). 이리 주택에서 워터 테이블은 지면 로 솟은 기단 에서 벽체의 재료를 보호하면서, 모르타르가 지면의 습기 에 하는 것을 피하 다. 그러나 ‘ 리 주택’(1934년, Figure 7)을 시작으로 워터 테이블의 패턴이 사라지기 시작하면 서21), 목재와 벽돌 재료가 기단, 혹은 지면에 직 면하 다. 2.3 기단과 지면의 일체 라이트는 이리 주택에서 강한 기단 선을 선호한 반 면, 유소니언 주택에서는 기단 선을 모호하게 하면서, 한 내외부공간의 경계를 불분명하게 하 다. 물론 이는 경제 고려를 가장 우선시한 유소니언 주택이 모든 요소를 간편 화, 단순화, 자동화 원칙에 따라 디자인된 결과이기도 하 다. 이외에도 이리 시기의 지에 뿌리박힌 나무와 같은 둔 한 벽체가 가볍게 처리된다 든가, 혹은 흙으로 벽체가 둘러 싸이면서 주택은 지와 일체화 되었다. 단층 규모의 유소니언 주택은 내외부공간의 벨 차이가 없어 서 외부에서 기단이 보이지 않거나, 보여도 명확하지 않아 건물 자체가 지에서 곧 바로 하여 보인다.(Figure 3) 이러한 특징은 매우 낮은 벽체와 넓게 드리워진 평지붕 슬 라 에 의해 더욱 강조되어, 멀리서 보면 지와 주택이 하 나의 수평선으로 보이기도 하 다. 이러한 사고는 유소니언 주택의 ‘범 타입’(berm type)의 주택으로 이어진다. 이는 외벽의 창문 하인방까지 경사진 20) Terry L. Patterson, Frank Lloyd Wright and the Meaning of Materials, VNR, N.Y, 1994, pp.46～47 21) Terry L. Patterson, p.113 흙둑이 쌓여진 것으로, 지의 특성뿐만 아니라 토양과 기 후에 따라 동서남북 어느 방향에서나 훌륭한 외 을 가진 매우 실용 인 유형이다. 단열도 좋고, 풍우에도 보호되고, 외벽이라든가 경우에 따라서는 내벽마감을 하지 않아서 경 제 이었다.22) 이러한 유형의 주택은 1942년 디트로이트의 자동차 회사 노동자들을 한 ' 동주택'(cooperative homesteads, Fig.4) 로젝트로 제안되었으며, ‘세컨드 제이콥스 주택’(1948-1949 년, Figure 11)과 ‘토마스 주택’(1951년)에서 시행되었다.23) 이 개념은 주택과 지와의 직 인 계이며, 가능한 지 와 일체화하여 지의 경 을 보호하려는 시도이었다. 3. 몸체부분 3.1 상하부 벽체의 분리 기존 주택과 달리 이리 주택의 특징이라고 하면, 지 붕과 몸체의 분리라 할 수 있다. 이는 지붕의 캔틸 버구조 로 인해 가능하게 되었다. 라이트는 건물의 지붕을 캔틸 버로 처리하면서 코 의 기둥을 없애 버렸으며, 캔틸 버를 강조하기 해 코 에 있는 기둥을 잘라 원래 기둥의 반분, 혹은 2/3 크기로 하여 독립 인 형태를 취하여 부벽의 역 할을 하도록 하 다. 이들 반분된 하부 벽체는 토 에서부터 시작하여 1층, 혹 은 2층의 창 까지 연속되면서, 상부 벽체인 리이즈 (frieze) 부분을 사이에 두고 지붕과 분리되었다. 이로 인하여 하부 벽체는 력(gravity)의 축에 맞춰 자라는 식물과 같이 지에 뿌리박힌 강한 매스감과 수직성을 더욱 두드러지게 나타내었다. 실제 으로 이들 무게 있는 벽체 기둥은 독립 인 피어로서 구조 표 의 보조 역할만 할 뿐이었다.24) 이들은 지로의 고착성과 독립된 벽체임을 확인시켜 으 로써, 강한 수평성을 보여주는 캔틸 버 지붕선이라든가, 토 와 벽체의 두겁에 놓인 석(臺石)의 수평띠, 그리고 지 의 수평선 등과 조되면서 체 으로는 평형을 이루었다. 상부 벽체인 리이즈 부분은 정교하고 복잡한 장식으로 치장되었으며, 하부 벽체와 지붕을 수평 으로 완 하게 이 22) The Natural House, pp.148～153 23) Robert C. Twombly, p.263 24) 그리하여 이후의 작품에서는 벽체를 스크린으로 자유롭게 구 성하면서 동선 상에서의 자유로움을 구사하 으며, 이로 인 하여 기의 수평 개념이 더욱 자유롭게 개되기 시작함 Figure 4. The Berm Type House Cooperative Homesteads Project, Dtroit, Michigan, 1942 Figure 3. Base Section Hanna House, 1936 (Terry L. Patterson, p.46) 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 5 분시키면서 주택의 규모를 축소시키는 역할을 하 다. 이는 하부 벽체보다 후미진 치에 놓이면서 길게 내민 처마에 의해 강한 그림자가 드리워지면서 더욱 뚜렷하게 나타났다. 더욱이 이리 주택이 개되면서 리이즈를 일련의 연 속 인 여닫이창(casements)이라든가, 체를 유리창으로 변경하 을 때, 지붕과의 분리는 더욱 강하게 표 되었다. Figure 5. Pierlike Shape and Delicate Frieze W. H. Winslow House, 1893/ Hillside Home School, 1902/Susan Laurence Dana House, 1903/F. F. Tomek House, 1907 한 몸체가 지에 고착하는 이미지는 1923～1924년에 로스앤젤 스에 지은 4개의 텍스타일 블록(textile block)25) 주택에서도 찾아볼 수 있다. 안정 인 이미지는 블록의 조 식 구조에 나타난 압축력에 기인한 것으로, 이러한 이미 지는 고 의 지구라트나 피라미드를 연상시킨다. 규모의 ‘엔니스 주택’은 수평 으로 넓게 퍼져 있어 재료의 압축 인 이미지와는 상반되나, 넓은 기단과 셋백된 벽체로 인하 여 압축력에 의한 안정감을 보여주었다. 이와는 달리 ‘ 라 드 주택’은 평면 자체로 완벽한 정방형에 볼륨의 구성이 입 방체와 같아, 안정된 매스로 인하여 압축력의 이미지를 더 욱 낳았다.26) Figure 6. Textile Block Houses Mrs. George Madison Millard House, 1923/Charles Ennis House, 1924 25) Millard, Storer, Ennis, Freeman House이며, 콘크리트 블록 유닛을 직물과 같은 장식으로 처리하여 텍스타일 블록이라 고 명명한 이유는 라이트가 리에서 지녔던 선형의 패턴 (the linear pattern)을 시도한 것이라 볼 수 있다. 26) Terry L. Patterson, pp.140～141 3.2 목재 수평띠와 석재 두겁 몸체부분에서 외견상 두드러진 하나의 특징으로는, 회 반죽 벽체 의 목재 수평띠(wood trim)27)와, 벽돌조 벽체 의 기다란 석의 두겁이라 할 수 있다. 이들은 몸체 부분의 분리된 상하 벽체를 연결하기도 하고, 피어 형태의 독립된 벽체의 꼭 기에 워 장식 겸 비아무림이 되었다. 이들은 기단 워터테이블과 함께 벽돌조과 회반죽 마감의 주택에 서와 같이 연속 으로 통일된 재료가 사용된 벽체를 수평 으로 분 시키면서, 몸체를 지면에 다가가도록 하 다. 기 이리 주택의 목조 회반죽 마감의 벽체에서는 목재 수평띠가 벽의 창 상 하인방, 독립된 벽체 꼭 기, 그리고 처마부분을 비롯하여 심지어는 워터 테이블의 상부 에까지 외 을 장식하 다. 이리 주택에서 뚜렷하게 나 타났던 두꺼운 목재 수평띠와 석재 두겁의 패턴은 ‘알 주 택’(1917년)을 마지막으로 벽돌조 건축물의 성격에서 요 한 역할을 하지 못하 으며,28) ‘ 리 주택’(1934년)부터는 보이지 않았다. Figure 7. Wood Trim and Stone Coping Henry J. Allen House, 1917/Dean Malcolm M. Willey House, 1934 유소니언 주택에서는 벽돌 마구리 세워쌓기(rowlock)에 서만 두겁의 사용이 보일 뿐, 명확한 수평띠의 요소는 사라 졌다. 기단과 워터테이블도 사라져서, 벽돌 혹은 나무가 지 면에 직 하 다. 이들의 표 인 로는 ‘한나 주 택’(1935년, Figure 8, 9), ‘월터 주택’(1945년), ‘알솝 주 택’(1948년), 그리고 ‘로 트 주택’(1948년) 주택들이 있다. 여기에서 벽돌의 마 반기보다는 덜 명확해졌으며, 마구리 세워쌓기에서의 두겁도 시트 메탈로 치되었다. 유소니언 주택의 몸체 부분은 이리 주택보다는 낮고 길게 보 으며, 벽체의 수직분 이 지까지 연속하 다. 길게 내민 슬라 평지붕과 기다란 처마로 인하여 라이트 가 이리 주택에서 지에 가까이 다가가려고 시도했던 매우 뚜렷한 목재 수평 띠와 두겁을 필요로 하지 않았다. 기단과 워터테이블까지도 사라졌다. 3.3 유닛 그릿필드 시스템 기 상자곽 형태의 보다 완결된 평면에서, 주요 방들은 하나의 축을 따라서 기다란 선형의 형태를 띠었다. 이것은 27) 벽의 창 , 인방, 바닥 처마부분의 돌림띠로는 코니스 (cornice)가 사용되는데, 이는 처마부분에 해당되는 용어로 여기서는 몸체 부분의 돌림띠이어서 목재 수평띠(wood trim)라 명명하 다. 28) Terry L. Patterson, pp.112～113 6 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 내부공간을 외부로 확장시키는 계기가 되었으며, 이에 따라 포오치(porch), 정원(garden walls), 그리고 차고 등이 건물 에 부착되어, 수평 확장이 이루어졌다. 몇몇 라이트의 배 치 평면계획에서 방, 복도, 출입구, 심지어는 둥근 천정 형태에 맞춰 외부공간이 구성되기도 하 다. 이는 내외부공간의 상호 입을 낳았으며, 이로 말미암 아 내부 평면에서의 개념이 몸체 부분인 외부입면상의 개 념으로 확장되었다. 이는 기학 구성상의 그리드로 통일 되어 나타나는데, 기 이리 주택의 그리드패턴은 유소 니언 주택에 와서는 내부공간에서 외부로 확산하면서, 평면 상의 유닛 시스템(Unit System)에서 입단면상의 3차원으로 통일되었으며, 그리고 외부환경을 시하는 그릿필드 시스 템(Grid field system)29)으로 까지 발 하 다. Figure 8. Gridfield System Herbert Jacobs House, 1936/Hanna House, 1936 유소니언 주택의 3차원 그리드는 규칙 이면서, 건물 의 입지를 다루는 과정과 하게 련 있었다. 유소니언 그릿필드의 수평, 수직면들은 내외부공간의 넓은 역은 물 론 이들 사이를 통하는 모든 디테일을 결정하 다. 1피트 1인치(33cm)의 수직모듈은 결 모양의 이어 층을 형성하 다. 이들은 처마와 고측창 선, 화분과 옹벽, 문과 내부 데 크의 높이와 같은 구조물, 제작 가구, 선반, 테이블, 부엌 29) John Sergeant, F. L. Wright's Usonian House, 1984 작업 와 같은 시설물 등 모든 시각 요소들의 높이를 조 정하 다. 수평 수직 모듈이 체 평면과 입면을 결정하 다. 재료 역시 외벽재료는 안쪽으로, 내벽재료는 외부로 자연스 럽게 통일되었다. 외벽체의 벽돌쌓기는 바닥포장 벽돌로 반 복되었고, 외부 삼나무는 노출되었으며, 동일한 내부 삼나 무는 왁스칠만 되어 있었다. 이제 벽체는 취 의 상이 아 니라 내외부공간의 바닥, 벽체, 천정, 지붕 시설물에 이 르기까지 연장되는 통일체의 한 구성요소이었다. 4. 지붕부분 4.1 캔틸 버 지붕 력과 동 인 계를 갖고 있는 자연의 수평 요소는 캔틸 버라 할 수 있다. 기에서 만발한 꽃송이, 새와 곤 충의 날개, 그리고 나무에 달린 유시종(有翅種)30) 모두가 공간상의 자유로운 캔틸 버이었 다. 한 암석에서 튀어나온 바 , 나뭇가지들, 그리고 숲속에 산재하고 있는 기이한 식물들은 라이트 자신의 작품 개에 직 인 소재이었다. 철과 철근콘크 리트조가 캔틸 버 구조에 가장 바람직하지만, 라이트는 나무, 심 지어는 돌과 벽돌에서 조차 캔틸 버를 디자인하 다. 그는 캔틸 버를 모든 가능한 구조물 에 서 가장 낭만 인 것이며, 새로운 자유로움을 성취하기 한 주요 도구로 간주하 다. 30) winged seeds, 온 지방에 분포하고 종실의 묘(苗)가 커져서 날개 모양으로 되어 있음. Figure 9. Wall Section Hanna House, 1936 (On and By F.L.Wright, p.186) 구분 지와 하는 부분 몸체(외벽체) 부분 지붕 부분 이 리 주 택 ∙ 의 높은 토 에서 낮은 기단으로 변경 ∙강하고 뚜렷한 기단선(baseline) 선호 ∙돌출 기단으로 지와 명확한 경계 표시 ∙기단 에 워터테이블(하 , 下臺) 설치 ∙워터테이블, 목재에서 벽돌과 석재로 변경 ∙기단과 워터테이블이 지면에 안착 ∙창문 하인방에서 멈춘 피어모양의 하부벽체 ∙정교하고 복잡한 리이즈 상부벽체 ∙장식된 리이즈는 일련의 연속창으로 변경 ∙테라스, 발코니, 차고, 포치의 외벽체 확장 ∙회반죽 마감 벽체에 목재 수평돌림띠 ∙두겁 인방의 수평 연속띠 ∙쉘터감(the sense of shelter) ∙낮고, 길고, 깊게 내민 캔틸 버 지붕 ∙다락방, 도머창 제거, 높이를 낮추려는 노력 ∙ 리이즈의 여닫이창(casement windows) ∙돌출 처마의 음 에 의한 주택스 일의 축소 ∙지붕 모퉁이에 의한 윤곽선과 하늘의 허공 공 통 ∙주변 환경에서 출토된 자연 석재 사용 ∙지하층, 쓸모없는 공간의 제거 ∙굴뚝은 건물을 지에 고착시키는 역할 ∙가늘고 긴 벽돌길이쌓기, 평 ∙처마 의 빛의 굴 로 간 채 유입 ∙ 지의 지평선과 하늘의 수평선 일치 유 소 니 언 주 택 ∙복토주택(the Berm Type House) ∙주택 외벽체 일부에 흙둑, 제방 설치 ∙바닥 슬라 를 땅 속으로 심는 듯함 ∙워터테이블, 기단이 사라짐 ∙거의 보이지 않는 외벽체 나무 기단 ∙목재 트림과 두겁이 사라짐 ∙외벽체는 단일부분으로 이루어짐 ∙외벽체, 창호, 바닥, 천정, 가구, 조명 통일 ∙바닥부터 천장까지의 유리문 ∙동일한 내외장 벽돌과 삼나무 ∙좁고 기다란 고측창(clearstory) ∙편평한 평 슬라 캔틸 버 ∙처마 과 내부 천정 높이의 일치 ∙높낮이가 다른 거실부분의 캔틸 버지붕 ∙캔틸 버 지붕인 차의 출입구 Table 1 Characters and Elements related to the Earth and Sky in the Prairie and Usonian Houses of F. L. Wright 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 7 캔틸 버 지붕이 상자곽의 괴라든가, 벽체의 해방을 통 한 쉘터감(sense of shelter)에서 개되어 왔다고 하여도, 외견상 길게 내민 수평 인 띠가 가장 두드러진 특징이라 할 수 있다. 본체에 더하여 마치 새의 날개와 같이 돌출한 포오치와 테라스의 캔틸 버 지붕에 의해 수평성이 더욱 강 조되면서, 구조물은 더욱 더 지평선과 하늘에 수렴된다. 유소니언 주택에 있어서도, 라이트는 주택 건설비용을 이는 것에 해 고민하면서, 모임지붕을 ‘값비싸고 불필 요한 것’이라 선언하면서 슬라 평지붕의 캔틸 버를 과감 하게 채택하 다. 여기에서 길게 내민 캔틸 버 지붕처마의 부분은 내부 천정으로 이어지면서 내외부공간의 연속성 을 과감하게 표 하 다. 4.2 처마에 의한 빛과 음 길게 내민 캔틸 버 지붕의 처마는 빛을 차단함과 동시 에 빛을 반사하여 확산시키기도 한다. 처마는 여름날의 가 장 더운 시간에 상부 층으로의 빛을 차단하여 그늘을 떨어 뜨리고, 처마 은 빛을 반사하여 아주 놀라울 정도로 평안 한 빛을 내부공간으로 유입시킨다. 처마는 햇빛과 비바람으 로부터 만족할만한 쉘터감을 제공하 다. Figure 10. Light and Shadow W.H.Winslow House, 1893/Frederick C. Robie House,1909/Ingwald Moe House sketch 1910/Dean Malcolm M. Willey House, 1934 과감하게 돌출한 캔틸 버 지붕의 처마는 외견상 이 가치를 갖는다. 길게 내드러낸 처마의 깊이뿐만 아니라, 벽 체에서 후퇴된 리이즈 부분으로 말미암아 외벽체에 강한 음 이 떨어지면서 지붕과 몸체가 분리되기도 하고, 지붕이 지면에 더욱 가까워지기도 한다. 자는 상 으로 벽체의 무게감이 없어 보여, 지붕을 력에 응하여 부유하는 것 처럼 보이게 하는 반면에, 후자는 깊게 드리워진 그림자로 말미암아 건물의 규모가 축소되어, 2층 주택이 멀리서 보면 1층 규모로 보인다. 지붕은 낮춰지고, 길게 보이면서 지면 에 더욱 가까워지고, 하늘은 더욱 선명하게 인식되었다. 라이트는 캔틸 버지붕이외에도 상부 벽체의 리즈부분 을 채운 일련의 여닫이창(casements)에 해서도 새로운 발견이라고 하면서, 처마에 의한 간 채 을 받아들이도록 고안하 다. 그에게서 지붕은 주택의 벽체를 보호하는 것은 물론이고, 이제는 벽체의 역할에서 기다란 연창으로 변경된 ‘경량 스크린’(light screens)을 통하여 상부 층으로 굴 된 빛을 확산시키는 것이었다.31) 이는 유소니언 주택의 고측창(clerestory)에서도 나타난 다. 길게 내민 캔틸 버 평지붕의 높낮이의 차이에 따라 가 장 높은 거실부분에서 고측창이 생겨나는데, 여기에서 직사 선이 아닌 굴 된 빛이 확산되어 커다란 거실은 아늑한 분 기를 지닌 공간으로 탈바꿈되었다. 4.3 공(空) 인식 Figure 11. Consciousness of Void in Sky Second Jacobs House, 1948-1949 /The original drawings of the O'Reilly House from 1947 라이트는 “형태에서 가장 요한 것은 가장 끝의 매스 (terminal mass)이며, 자연은 이런 것을 그 구성 속에서 우 리에게 나타내기 때문에 터미 에 세심한 주 를 하면 다 른 것은 자연히 해결된다.”32)고 하 다. 이 듯 우리가 하 나의 건축물을 바라볼 때, 우리의 시야는 건축물의 지붕 각 모서리에 머물면서 물체의 윤곽을 보게 되고, 곧 바로 윤곽 의 배경이 되는 공(void)을 인식하면서, 물체의 윤곽을 뚜 렷하게 하는 하늘로 사라진다. 하늘을 배경으로 하는 주택의 몸체와 지붕이 지면에 가 까워질수록, 상 으로 하늘의 허공은 더욱 뚜렷하게 인식 된다. 라이트에게서 부분의 리는 평탄하지 않고, 경 사지면서 완만한 둔덕이었다. 리의 평화롭고 풍요로운 아름다움은 지와 하늘 사이의 공, 그리고 이들의 드넓은 펼쳐짐에서 온 것이었다. 기단, 몸체 지붕부분으로 이루어진 건축물 구성요소 의 디테일 처리에서, 지면에 친숙해지려는 노력은 하늘의 허공을 더욱 뚜렷하게 인식시키고자 한 것이며, 나아가서는 지평선과 수평선을 일치시키고자 하려는 것이었다. 에머슨 이 말한 바와 같이 하늘과 지면을 서로 만나도록 하여 놀 라운 경을 만들어 내었다. 이처럼 지면으로 향한 주택은 나무와 꽃과 같은 자연의 경색(景色)과 함께 무한한 하늘의 허공을 배경으로 한 단순성을 낳았다. 원에서는 불과 조 높은 것이 단히 높은 것 같이 보 다. 높이는 디테일 부분에 이르기까지 단히 요하며, 비는 이에 미치지 못하 다. 31) The Natural House, pp.38～39 32) Edited by Edgar Kaufmann, An American Architecture, N.Y. Branhall, 1955, p. 229 8 韓國農村建築學 論文集 제18권 3호 통권62호 2016년 8월 5. 결 론 본 연구는 20세기 , 반에 건립된 랭크 로이드 라 이트의 이리와 유소니언 주택을 상으로, 그가 주창하 여온 자연의 지와 하늘과 련한 디자인 개념과 디테일 처리에 하여 주택의 기단, 몸체 지붕부분으로 구분하 여 살펴본 것으로, 연구결과는 다음과 같다. 첫째, 랫포옴 형태의 비교 높은 토 는 이 리 주택에서는 뚜렷하고 낮은 기단으로 변경되었다. 유소니 언 주택의 시기인 1930년 에 들어오면서 기단 에서 비흘 림을 방지하는 하 (下臺)인 워터테이블(watertable)이 사라 지기 시작하 으며, 차 으로 나무와 벽돌 재료의 외벽체 가 기단, 혹은 지면에 직 하면서 지와 일체화되었다. 둘째, 이리 주택에서 상자곽 형태의 몸체가 괴되 면서, 외벽체는 하 에서 창 까지 연속된 피어 모양의 하부 벽체와 섬세한 장식의 상부 벽체인 리이즈로 나뉘 었으며, 목재 수평 띠와 석재 두겁이 이들을 연결하면서, 지에 안착시켰다. 1920년 들어서 이들 디테일이 구사되 지 않다가 유소니언 주택에서 외벽체는 바닥과 천정을 비 롯하여 창호, 가구 조명, 그리고 외부공간에 이르기까지 유닛 그릿필드시스템으로 통일되었다. 셋째, 몸체와 분리되어 길게 내민 캔틸 버 지붕은 시각 상의 강한 수평성은 물론, 쉘터감을 극 화시켰다. 처마 의 반사된 빛은 연속된 상부 벽체의 여닫이창과 고측창을 통하여 내부공간에 유입되었으며, 외벽체에 깊게 드리워진 음 은 지붕과 하부 벽체를 분리시켜 주택을 지에 가라앉 히면서, 동시에 하늘의 허공을 더욱 뚜렷하게 인식시켰다. 이 듯 생애 내내 유기 일성과 단순성에 입각하여 유기 건축의 조형원리를 주창해온 라이트에게서 주택 디 자인의 개념설정, 재료의 특성에 합한 형태 디테일 처 리는 궁극 으로 지와 하늘로 수렴해가는 개과정의 표 이었다고 할 수 있다. 참고문헌 1. Henry Russell Hitchcock., In the Nature of Materials, Duell, Sloan and pearce, N. Y, 1942 2. Frank Lloyd Wright, The Natural House, Horizon Press, 1954 3. Edited by Edgar Kaufmann, An American Architecture, Frank Lloyd Wright, Horizon Press, 1955 4. Robert C. Twombly, Frank Lloyd Wright His Life and His Architecture, John Wiley&Sons, N.Y, 1979 5. 김태 , 건축 조형 리에 있어서 자연 유기성에 한 연구- 랭크 로이드 라이트의 리, 유소니언 주택 분석 고찰, 서 울 석사학 논문 1982 6. Donald Hoffman Sommer, Frank Lloyd Wright Architecture & Nature, Dover Publication Inc., 1986 7. Terry L. Patterson, Frank Lloyd Wright and the Meaning of Materials, VNR, N.Y., 1994 8. The Museum of Modern Art, Frank Lloyd Wright, N.Y., 1994 9. Donald Hoffman Sommer, Understanding Frank Lloyd Wright's Architecture, Dover Publication Inc., 1995 10. Robert McCarter Editer, On and By F.L.Wright, Phaidon, 2005 11. Robert McCarter, Frank Lloyd Wright, Reaktion Books Ltd., 2006 수일자 : 2016. 07. 10 심사완료일자 : 2016. 08. 22 게재확정일자 : 2016. 08. 23 
work_bqe5mwcmfrhc7l73i3eadwfqw4	----	Recalling good memories MucosalImmunology | VOLUME 7 NUMBER 1 | JANUARY 2014 3 editorialnature publishing group Recalling good memories D Masopust1 and V Vezys1 Our chief want in life is somebody who will make us do what we can. —Ralph Waldo Emerson O n 20 July 2013, the immunology community unexpectedly lost Leo Lefrançois. Leo was a pioneer in mucosal T-cell biology and immunological memory and very much in the prime of his research career. The field mourns his premature passing, the loss of the discoveries that he would have made, the ideas he would have inspired, and his straight-shooting but infectious personality. Leo displayed an early aptitude for science. He obtained his PhD at Wake Forest University in only 2.5 years, while publishing many highly cited works characterizing mouse immune responses to vesicular stomatitis viruses. He provided additional evidence of his talent during postdoctoral training with Michael Bevan at Scripps. There, Leo published several papers, including one in Nature, while honing his scientific method, developing important collegial relationships, and cementing his lasting interest in CD8 T-cell memory. But it was only after taking an independent position, at the Upjohn Company in Kalamazoo, Michigan, that Leo developed his lifelong passion for mucosal immunology. During his brief tenure at Upjohn, Leo made a series of seminal discoveries. He reported that 1Department of Microbiology and Center for Immunology, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minnesota, USA doi:10.1038/mi.2013.110 TCRγδ+ T cells were highly enriched in the intestinal mucosal epithelium, that they were constitutively cytolytic, and that they can develop even in the absence of a thymus. This work launched a long career in the study of anatomically restricted T-cell populations and their phenotypic specialization within the intestinal mucosa. Leo was always quick to adopt the latest technological innovations, and he pioneered the analysis of antigen- specific antiviral T-cell responses in the gut. In many ways, he was far ahead of his time. Leo reported that acute infections establish TCRαβ+ T cells within the intestinal mucosa (and other nonlymphoid locations), where they adopt site-specific phenotypic signatures and functions. He was Leo’s “The Leo Project” hat watches over a former trainee and keeps him on point. http://www.nature.com/doifinder/10.1038/mi.2013.110 4 VOLUME 7 NUMBER 1 | JANUARY 2014 | www.nature.com/mi editorial quite prescient in predicting very early that intestinal TCRαβ+ memory CD8 T cells are resident. This idea, which proved to be true (Leo helped show this), launched the field of tissue-resident T-cell memory. These discoveries were coupled with insightful contributions to our understanding of the cytokine regulation of memory–T cell development and homeostasis: discoveries that have had important clinical ramifications. When Leo died unexpectedly of a heart attack while hiking in northern Italy, he was at the peak of his scientific productivity. One of his most recent papers demonstrated that TCRγδ+ T cells exhibit the cardinal features of immunological memory following resolution of an intestinal microbial infection. This startling observation thematically united his early scientific discoveries with his foundational work on mucosal adaptive immunity. It is gratifying that Leo was able to bridge these concepts in his lifetime. Of course, we will never know what other discoveries he might have made. In addition to the many accolades for Leo’s scientific achievements, we point out that he was a remarkable mentor and had a tremendous impact on the people he trained. We both entered the graduate program at the University of Connecticut Health Center largely because of the prospect of working with Leo. He had a cramped space at that time—we were shoehorned into a corner of the lab along with postdocs Kimberly Schluns and Amanda Marzo, a stereo that was often blaring, and the chromium waste. It was challenging to get time on the sole centrifuge, which was a washing machine–sized Beckman that was last inspected around 1970 (the inspection sticker was still there). Despite the lack of inspections, it never broke. A poster of a shark on which Leo had scrawled “The competition never sleeps” hung prominently on the refrigerator. Within the close confines of the Lefrançois lab, there was true intellectual ferment, cultivated by Leo’s passion for science and unique personality. He set high standards. He loved making discoveries, and when that is one’s true motivation, doing so with integrity is inherent. For Leo, being a scientist was a lifestyle. This life was meant to be enjoyed; measured not just by accomplishments but also by the relationships formed and lives impacted—legacies that persist long beyond one’s self. Leo imparted these virtues to his trainees. While he expected everyone to work hard, we were reminded to play hard as well. It was not uncommon to find oneself at Leo and Lynn’s house at midnight on a Saturday night. Perhaps one was weary from the day’s experiment (the lab hummed seven days a week, from early to late). Or eagerly awaiting the running of samples the next day to seek an answer. Over beers, the conversation would revolve around the science that we cared deeply about, along with plenty of good laughs. This experience formed deep bonds between Leo and his people. It very much felt like one happy family. Like most families, it could be chaotic and mildly dysfunctional at times owing to the fervency. But like many great mentors, Leo allowed a healthy degree of intellectual freedom among his trainees. One was free to challenge concepts that Leo held dear. He would stay engaged and debate with you, and he could be a fairly vocal critic. But he did not stifle new ideas; he just liked to argue. And while he preferred to always be right, he never denied the data. A lab get-together at Lynn Puddington and Leo Lefrançois’ home, ca. 2000. Back row (left to right): Connie Pope, Kristina Williams, David Masopust, Vaiva Vezys, Sara Peterson, Warren D’Souza. Middle row (left to right): Kimberly Schluns, Amanda Marzo, Karen Laky, Barbara Fuller, Jim Huleatt. Front row (left to right): Sung-Kwon Kim, Leo Lefrançois, Lynn Puddington. MucosalImmunology | VOLUME 7 NUMBER 1 | JANUARY 2014 5 editorial The last time we saw Leo was at the American Association of Immunologists annual meeting in Honolulu in May 2013. Leo had given a rousing talk on resident memory T cells, a field he helped pioneer. His current and former trainees all gathered for dinner that night. A group of former trainees sat with Leo, and they laughed and laughed; it was immediately like old times. We (Vaiva and Dave) were now married, and we consider those who were in our generation in Leo’s lab to be dear friends. The thought that we would lose Leo so soon never crossed our minds. As we reflect on what made Leo’s lab so special, we feel it was his ability to stoke love and passion for science. It is said that one should lead by example. Leo’s excitement about science was clear to see, and this was imprinted on us. By providing direction but allowing intellectual freedom, he empowered the people who worked with him. As a consequence, they learned to become independent thinkers. It is remarkable how many of Leo’s trainees have successful careers in industry or government or run university research labs. These days, being successful in science requires a total commitment; it is not a 9-to-5 job. Therefore, embracing it for the creative art that it is and learning to tolerate the constant critiques, competition, and stressed resources, while being consumed by the thrill of discovery and the humanity of cooperative research, are essential. These are the lessons we learned from Leo. It is easier said than done, but as we manage our own labs it is this spirit that we try to maintain and pass on. Leo had many great friends in the field of immunology. We were among the very fortunate who got to train with him and to engage and grow and discover together on a daily basis. For that we are forever grateful. And the Leo Project will live on. © 2014 Society for Mucosal Immunology Recalling good memories 
work_btmcw5axazburduqou27ggqoo4	----	14735504_7-2.qxd.goldlabel Journalof American Studıes Jou rn alofA m erican S tu d ies Volu m e 4 8 N u m b er2 M ay 2 0 1 4 p p 3 5 7 –6 8 9 Volume 48 Number 2 May 2014 Volume 48 Number 2 May 2014 Journalof American Studıes Cambridge Journals Online For further information about this journal please go to the journal website at: journals.cambridge.org/ams MIX Paper from responsible sources ® ® vv EEddiittoorrss’’ NNoottee ARTICLES 335577 DDiivviiddeedd LLooyyaallttiieess iinn aa ““PPrreeddaattoorryy WWaarr””:: PPllaannttaattiioonn OOvveerrsseeeerrss aanndd SSllaavveerryy dduurriinngg tthhee AAmmeerriiccaann RReevvoolluuttiioonn LAURA SANDY 339933 ““AAllll AAmmeerriiccaa IIss aa PPrriissoonn””:: TThhee NNaattiioonn ooff IIssllaamm aanndd tthhee PPoolliittiicciizzaattiioonn ooff AAffrriiccaann AAmmeerriiccaann PPrriissoonneerrss,, 11995555––11996655 ZOE COLLEY 441177 MMoorree TThhaann aa PPaassssiivvee IInntteerreesstt NIALL PALMER 444455 ““TThhee BBeeaauuttyy ooff OOtthheerr HHoorriizzoonnss””:: SSaarrttoorriiaall SSeellff--FFaasshhiioonniinngg iinn CCllaauuddee MMccKKaayy’’ss BBaannjjoo:: AA SSttoorryy wwiitthhoouutt aa PPlloott GRAEME ABERNETHY 446611 CCrreeeeppiinngg FFoorreesstt aanndd ((DDiiss))PPllaacceedd BBooddiieess:: RReellooccaattiinngg RRaacciiaall TTrraauummaa iinn AAnnggeelliinnaa WWeelldd GGrriimmkkéé’’ss ““BBllaacckknneessss”” aanndd ““GGoollddiiee”” LINDSEY PHILLIPS 448811 TTrraannsscceennddeennttaall DDeemmooccrraaccyy:: RRaallpphh WWaallddoo EEmmeerrssoonn’’ss PPoolliittiiccaall TThhoouugghhtt,, tthhee LLeeggaaccyy ooff FFeeddeerraalliissmm,, aanndd tthhee IIrroonniieess ooff AAmmeerriiccaa’’ss DDeemmooccrraattiicc TTrraaddiittiioonn BENJAMIN E. PARK 550011 TThhee IInntteerrnnaattiioonnaall DDiimmeennssiioonn ooff tthhee FFeeddeerraall CCoonnssttiittuuttiioonn TOM CUT TERHAM 551177 WWhhiitthheerr IInndduussttrriiaall DDeemmooccrraaccyy?? TThhee FFeeddeerraall GGoovveerrnnmmeenntt aanndd OOrrggaanniizzeedd LLaabboouurr iinn tthhee TTeelleeggrraapphh IInndduussttrryy dduurriinngg tthhee FFiirrsstt WWoorrlldd WWaarr STEVEN PARFIT T 554411 TThhiinnkkiinngg aabboouutt EEmmppiirree:: TThhee AAddmmiinniissttrraattiioonn ooff UUllyysssseess SS.. GGrraanntt,, SSppaanniisshh CCoolloonniiaalliissmm aanndd tthhee TTeenn YYeeaarrss’’ WWaarr iinn CCuubbaa ANDREW PRIEST 555599 UUSS SSeeiizzuurree,, EExxppllooiittaattiioonn,, aanndd RReessttiittuuttiioonn ooff SSaaddddaamm HHuusssseeiinn’’ss AArrcchhiivvee ooff AAttrroocciittyy BRUCE P. MONTGOMERY 559955 TThhee CCuullttuurree WWaarr aanndd IIssssuuee SSaalliieennccee:: AAnn AAnnaallyyssiiss ooff AAmmeerriiccaann SSeennttiimmeenntt oonn TTrraaddiittiioonnaall MMoorraall IIssssuueess ANDREW WROE, EDWARD ASHBEE AND AMANDA GOSLING 661133 PPeerrffoorrmmaattiivvee MMoorraalliittyy:: GGooddeeyy’’ss MMaattcchh PPllaatteess,, NNiinneetteeeenntthh--CCeennttuurryy SSttaaggee PPrraaccttiiccee,, aanndd SSoocciiaall//PPoolliittiiccaall//EEccoonnoommiicc CCoommmmeennttaarryy iinn AAmmeerriiccaa’’ss PPooppuullaarr LLaaddiieess’’ MMaaggaazziinnee CYNTHIA LEE PAT TERSON ROUNDTABLE 663399 SSwwoorrdd ooff tthhee SSppiirriitt,, SShhiieelldd ooff FFaaiitthh:: RReelliiggiioonn iinn AAmmeerriiccaann WWaarr aanndd DDiipplloommaaccyy 665577 REVIEWS ELECTRONIC CONTENT ONLINE ROUNDTABLE EXCLUSIVE ONLINE REVIEWS www.journals.cambridge.org/ams terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core Contents Editors’ Note v Articles Divided Loyalties in a “Predatory War”: Plantation Overseers and Slavery during the American Revolution  LAURA SANDY “All America Is a Prison”: The Nation of Islam and the Politicization of African American Prisoners, –  ZOE COLLEY More Than a Passive Interest  NIALL PALMER “The Beauty of Other Horizons”: Sartorial Self-Fashioning in Claude McKay’s Banjo: A Story without a Plot  GRAEME ABERNETHY Creeping Forest and (Dis)Placed Bodies: Relocating Racial Trauma in Angelina Weld Grimké’s “Blackness” and “Goldie”  LINDSEY PHILLIPS Transcendental Democracy: Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Political Thought, the Legacy of Federalism, and the Ironies of America’s Democratic Tradition  BENJAMIN E. PARK The International Dimension of the Federal Constitution  TOM CUTTERHAM Whither Industrial Democracy? The Federal Government and Organized Labour in the Telegraph Industry during the First World War  STEVEN PARFITT Thinking about Empire: The Administration of Ulysses S. Grant, Spanish Colonialism and the Ten Years’ War in Cuba  ANDREW PRIEST US Seizure, Exploitation, and Restitution of Saddam Hussein’s Archive of Atrocity  BRUCE P. MONTGOMERY terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Culture War and Issue Salience: An Analysis of American Sentiment on Traditional Moral Issues  ANDREW WROE, EDWARD ASHBEE AND AMANDA GOSLING Performative Morality: Godey’s Match Plates, Nineteenth- Century Stage Practice, and Social/Political/Economic Commentary in America’s Popular Ladies’ Magazine  CYNTHIA LEE PATTERSON Roundtable: Andrew Preston, Sword of the Spirit, Shield of Faith: Religion in American War and Diplomacy  ANN MARIE WILSON, DAVID A. HOLLINGER, STEVEN P. MILLER, ANDREW PRESTON Reviews  Reviews Ira Katznelson, Fear Itself: The New Deal and the Origins of Our Time  Jeffory A. Clymer, Family Money: Property, Race, and Literature in the Nineteenth Century  Andrew L. Slap and Michael Thomas Smith (eds.), This Distracted and Anarchical People: New Answers for Old Questions about the Civil War-Era North  William A. Link, Atlanta, Cradle of the New South: Race and Remembering in the Civil War’s Aftermath  Peter H. Argersinger, Representation and Inequality in Late Nineteenth-Century America: The Politics of Apportionment  Christine Bold, The Frontier Club: Popular Westerns and Cultural Power, –  Michael Lundblad, The Birth of a Jungle: Animality in Progressive-Era U. S. Literature and Culture  Drew Keeling, The Business of Transatlantic Migration between Europe and the United States  David Hollinger, After Cloven Tongues of Fire: Protestant Liberalism in Modern American History  Max Paul Friedman, Rethinking Anti-Americanism: The History of an Exceptional Concept in American Foreign Relations  Victoria W. Wolcott, Race, Riots, and Roller Coasters: The Struggle over Segregated Recreation in America  Landon R. Y. Storrs, The Second Red Scare and the Unmaking of the New Deal Left  John Burnham (ed.), After Freud Left: A Century of Psychoanalysis in America  Darryl Jones, Elizabeth McCarthy, and Bernice M. Murphy (eds.), It Came from the s! Popular Culture, Popular Anxieties  Damion L. Thomas, Globetrotting: African American Athletes and Cold War Politics  Zoe A. Colley, Ain’t Scared of Your Jail: Arrest, Imprisonment, and the Civil Rights Movement  Matthew Levin, Cold War University: Madison and the New Left in the Sixties  Timothy Melley, The Covert Sphere: Secrecy, Fiction, and the National Security State  Cathy Schlund-Vials, War, Genocide, and Justice: Cambodian American Memory Work  Georgiana Banita, Plotting Justice: Narrative Ethics and Literary Culture after /  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core Electronic content Roundtable: Fredrik Logevall, Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Vietnam EDWARD MILLER, JESSICA M. CHAPMAN, LOUISA RICE, MATTHEW MASUR, FREDRIK LOGEVALL Anna Mae Duane, Suffering Childhood in Early America: Violence, Race, and the Making of the Child Victim ANGELA SORBY, MONIKA ELBERT Exclusive Online Reviews The following reviews are freely available in the online version of this issue at www.journals. cambridge.org/ams Jamie Harker, Middlebrow Queer: Christopher Isherwood in America M. Carmen Gómez-Galisteo, Early Visions and Representations of America: Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca’s Naufragios and William Bradford’s Of Plymouth Plantation Robert J. Cook, William L. Barney, and Elizabeth R. Varon, Secession Winter: When the Union Fell Apart Jacob Rama Berman, American Arabesque: Arabs, Islam, and the th-Century Imaginary Christine L. Ridarsky and Mary M. Huth (eds.), Susan B. Anthony and the Struggle for Equal Rights Natalie J. Ring, The Problem South: Region, Empire, and the New Liberal State, – David E. Nye, America’s Assembly Line Thomas Doherty, Hollywood and Hitler, – Susanne Hamscha, The Fiction of America: Performance and the Cultural Imaginary in Literature and Film Aaron Lecklider, Inventing the Egghead: The Battle over Brainpower in American Culture Michael R. Auslin, Pacific Cosmopolitans: A Cultural History of U.S.–Japan Relations T. Austin Graham, The Great American Songbooks: Musical Texts, Modernism, and the Value of Popular Culture Karen Kuo, East Is West and West Is East: Gender, Culture, and Interwar Encounters between Asia and America Karen L. Cox (ed.), Destination Dixie: Tourism and Southern History Nancy Beck Young, Why We Fight: Congress and the Politics of World War II Robert L. Fleegler, Ellis Island Nation: Immigration Policy and American Identity in the Twentieth Century Thomas Devine, Henry Wallace’s  Presidential Campaign and the Future of Postwar Liberalism Lawrence J. Friedman, assisted by Anke M. Schreiber, The Lives of Erich Fromm: Love’s Prophet Inger Stole, Advertising at War: Business, Consumers, and Government in the s Neil Verma, Theater of the Mind: Imagination, Aesthetics, and American Radio Drama Ana Sobral, Opting Out: Deviance and Generational Identities in American Postwar Cult Fiction Robert E. Terrill (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Malcolm X Min Hyoung Song, The Children of : On Writing, and Not Writing, as an Asian American William G. Howell with David Milton Brent, Thinking about the Presidency: The Primacy of Power Mérida Rúa, A Grounded Identidad: Making New Lives in Chicago’s Puerto Rican Neighborhoods Alison R. Holmes and J. Simon Rofe (eds.), The Embassy in Grosvenor terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core Square: American Ambassadors to the United Kingdom, – Andrew Taylor and Áine Kelly (eds.), Stanley Cavell, Literature, and Film: The Idea of America Tessa Roynon, The Cambridge Introduction to Toni Morrison Caroline B. Brettell and Deborah Reed-Danahay, Civic Engagements: The Citizenship Practices of Indian & Vietnamese Immigrants Michael P. Jeffries, Paint the White House Black: Barack Obama and the Meaning of Race in America terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core Editors’ Note From discussions of antilynching legislation to nineteenth-century stage practice, the question of morality underpins the articles in this issue of the journal. We feature articles ranging from the politicization of African American prisoners to a critique Claude McKay’s Banjo: A Story without a Plot, as well as essays on empire, organized labour, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. The first five articles in the issue consider morality from the perspective of race and racial trauma in the United States, from the American Revolution to the Cold War, with essays by Zoe Colley, Niall Palmer, Graeme Abernethy, Lindsay Phillips, and Laura Sandy. Contributions by Benjamin Park, Tom Cutterham, and Stephen Parfitt invite us to consider how the theoretical underpinnings of the US political narrative can carve out a space to consider questions of morality in wartime and in diplomatic context, as in the examination by Andrew Priest of empire and colonialism and by Bruce Montgomery of Saddam Hussein’s archive of atrocity. Andrew Wroe et al. consider politics through the “culture war” and the polarization of American sentiment on moral issues, while Cynthia Patterson’s theoretical approach to nineteenth-century ladies’ magazines provides an alternative cultural interpretation of performative morality. In the review section, we feature roundtable discussions of two prize- winning books on American foreign relations. On the print side, Ann-Marie Wilson, David Hollinger, and Steven Miller give their views on Andrew Preston’s Sword of the Spirit, Shield of Faith, an epic account of the influence that religion has had on America’s role in the world. On the electronic side, Ed Miller, Jessica Chapman, Louisa Rice, and Matt Masur analyse Fredrik Logevall’s Embers of War, which offers a detailed examination of the first Vietnam war and charts the way that the US came to be involved in what was, effectively, a nationalist struggle against European colonialism. Following on from Embers of War, Angela Sorby and Monika Elbert examine Anna Mae Duane’s Suffering Childhood: Violence, Race, and the Making of the Child Victim, which uncovers the pivotal role constructions of childhood played in early US formulations of race and nationhood. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875814000644 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_bytukqhpbnc33bunld2zzezm2e	----	BOOKS, COMPUTERS AND MEDICINE (Contributions of a friend of Sir William Osler)* by MARTIN M. CUMMINGS ON this occasion, the 116th anniversary of Sir William Osler's birth, one is tempted to recount again the many significant contributions of this versatile physician, teacher, historian and bibliophile. However, I have chosen to discuss the accomplishments of his friend, Dr. John Shaw Billings, the first Librarian of the National Library of Medicine and to trace their relationship to books, computers and medicine. We are celebrating the centennial of Dr. Billings' appointment this year. These two accomplished and distinguished men were close friends and admirers. There are a number of references of one to the other scattered throughout the medical literature. One of the most inspiring of these was Osler's address at the convocation memorializing Billings' death." 'I speak of Dr. Billings with the reverence inspired by a friendship of nearly thirty years, and I bring officially the appreciative recognition of his great work of the Bibliographical Society of Great Britain of which he was a much esteemed honorary member and of which I happen to be President'. Osler referred to Billings' work as a bibliographer and compared him to such great students of medical literature as Conrad Gesner, Haller, Ploucquet, Haeser, Young, Eloy, Boyle, Forbes and Watt. He concluded, however, '. . . their labors are Lilliputian in comparison with the Gargantuan undertaking which occupied the spare moments in some thirty years of Dr. Billings' life.' Harvey Cushing remarked that ' . . . Osler and Billings had many common tastes and interests which had drawn them together'.2 In common too were circumstances relating to their birth and early youth. Both were born of English ancestry in sparsely settled regions of their respective sister countries; Osler at Bond Head, Ontario, and Billings some 300 miles away and eleven years earlier (1838) in Cotton Township, Switzerland County, Indiana. Both would, one day, play major roles in the same capital cities of the Eastern Seaboard. However, the path of Billings was the more troubled. After graduating from Miami University, Oxford, Ohio, in 1857 he entered the Medical College of Ohio (founded, incidentally, as the second Medical School west of the Alleghenies by Daniel Drake). There he spent two years of privation, graduating in 1860. Billings was then appointed demonstrator of anatomy at the college. But the War between the States soon divided the Nation and he spent the next three years as an Army Surgeon. His notebook and letters3 tell of his activities * The Osler Oration, presented before the Osler Club of London at the Royal College of Physicians, London, 12 July 1965. 130 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Books, Computers and Medicine in major battles of that conflict: Chancellorsville, Gettysburg, Wilderness, or 'Some- where in Virginia.' Though the war had put an end to Billings' academic career, it thrust upon him another. In 1864 he was assigned to the Office of the Surgeon General of the Army in Washington and in the fall of 1865' was appointed in charge of the Library of that Office, soon to be located in Ford's Theatre, the scene of the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. This was the post that was to lead to friendship with Sir William and other great men of medicine of their time. A keen reflection of their mutuality of interests and experiences is found in a few unpublished letters from Sir William to Dr. Billings.5 These letters show how books, technical inventions and clinical medicine brought these men together at the close of the last century. Paramount among these interests was a love of books and the development of libraries. The scholarly and perceptive Dr. Osler had begun to exchange books and manu- scripts with the National Medical Library as far back as 1883 when he was at McGill. He had discovered the enormous value of the Index Catalogue and the Index Medicus and was its champion wherever he went. The following letter addressed to Billings' associate, Dr. Fletcher, is characteristic of his attempts to acquire copies of these works for libraries throughout the world: Norfolk and Norwich Medical Chirurgical Society Norwich Sept. 1st, 1903 Dear Dr. Fletcher: I was sorry not to see in the excellent Library the Index Catalogue. Could it not be sent here? There is a collection of about 5,000 books and the young men use it very much. The Librarian, Mr. Quinton, is a man after your own heart. Sincerely yours, Wm. Osler I sail on the 16th. Hope you are very well. Osler used the Surgeon General's Library extensively. His wit and great respect for the value of books is reflected in a delightful note which he sent to Dr. Billings inviting punishment for losing one of our library books (probably left on the train between Washington and Baltimore). Feb. 18, 1890 209 W. Monument Street Dear Dr. Billings: Bring a club with you on your next visit & pummel me well. What an aggravating devil I am! Yes do order the book and make me pay double for it if possible. Sincerely yours, Wm. Osler Osler's high regard for Billings is clearly evident in the form of two letters inviting Billings to take charge of the Bodleian Library. 131 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Martin M. Cwnmings 13, Norham Gardens, Oxford Nov. 10th, 10. [i.e., 1910] Dear Billings, Do you happen to have a spare copy of your pamphlet on Medical Education. Extracts from Lectures before the Johns Hopkins University, 1877-78? A commission is trying to reorganize education in London; one great difficulty is in connection with medical education. I am to give evidence, and I would like to borrow some of your powder. You will be sorry to hear that that unique character, Bodley's Librarian, is very seriously ill. I wish you could take hold of the place for a year, with Mr. Carnegie's purse behind you. We have our under-ground stack completed, which will hold more than a million volumes. Sorry to have missed you this summer. Sincerely yours, Wm. Osler My Dear Osler, Your note of November 10th is received. I am sorry to say that I have not any copy of the pamphlet on "Medical education," to which you refer. It is possible you may find one in the library of the Royal Medical and Chirurgical Society. Very few copies were printed off, only about enough for the use of the Trustees. I am sorry to hear of the illness of Mr. Nicholson. It would never do to have a man like myself in his place. With best wishes, Yours very sincerely, J. S. Billings Doctor William Osler, Regius Professor of Medicine 13, Norham Gardens, Oxford Osler was not alone in his appreciation of Billings' development of the Index Catalogue. Not long before his last illness, Dr. William Henry Welch (1850-1934) paid a visit to the Library of the Surgeon General's Office, as it was known prior to 1928. He was one of the Library's oldest friends and most constant users. As he sat in the Librarian's (Col. Edgar Erskine Hume) office smoking one of his black cigars, he fell into one of those reminiscent moods which his friends and pupils so enjoyed. He spoke of the foundation of the Library, of its growth, of the place it occupied in the world of science, and then said: 'I have been asked on more than one occasion what have been the really great contributions of this country to medical knowledge. I have given the subject some thought and think that four should be named: (1) The discovery of anaesthesia. (2) The discovery of insect transmission of disease. (3) The development of the modem public health laboratory, in all that the term implies. (4) The Army Medical Library and its Index Catalogue. And (he added slowly) this library and its catalogue are the most important of the four.'6 The 'ghost' of Billings pervades the atmosphere of the National Library of Medicine in Bethesda, Maryland; indeed, so do the shades of Osler, Oliver Wendell Holmes, William Welch, and many others who recognized and encouraged both the scholarly and pragmatic innovations which Billings undertook in our library at that period of history (1865-1895). Although Billings will be remembered primarily for his development of the Index Catalogue and Index Medicus, he made several lesser known innovations and contributions which I believe deserve further elaboration. Many have forgotten that it was Dr. John Shaw Billings who designed the Johns Hopkins Hospital and the curriculum for the medical school. It was he also who went to Philadelphia where in less than several minutes he recruited Dr. Osler to become 132 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Books, Computers and Medicine the first Professor of Medicine at Johns Hopkins. Osler's own account of this event clearly reflects the characters of these two men of action. 'An important interview I had with him illustrates the man and his methods. Early in the spring of 1889 he came to my rooms, Walnut Street, Philadelphia. We had heard a great deal about the Johns Hopkins Hospital, and knowing that he was virtually in charge, it at once flashed across my mind that he had come in connection with it. Without sitting down, he asked me abruptly, "Will you take charge of the Medical Department of the Johns Hopkins Hospital?" Without a moment's hesitation I answered, "Yes". "See Welch about the details; we are to open very soon. I am very busy today, good- morning", and he was off, having been in my room not more than a couple of minutes.'7 Dr. William Welch, the first Professor of Pathology at Johns Hopkins had already been recruited by Billings in 1884. After Billings' death in 1913, Welch described the role which Billings played in the development of Johns Hopkins as follows: Dr. Billings was one of the five eminent physicians selected by the Trustees to prepare essays regarding the best plans to be adopted in the construction and organization of the hospital for which Johns Hopkins had provided the largest gift of money which had been made up to that time for such a purpose. His essay was chosen as the best, and from 1876 to the opening of the hospital in 1889 he acted as the highly efficient medical advisor of the Trustees of the Johns Hopkins Hospital, whose confidence he enjoyed in the highest degree. The building of the Johns Hopkins Hospital, with its admirable arrangement for heating, ventilation, isolation, sanitary cleanliness and nursing, and especially those 'for joining hands with the University,' as Dr. Billings expressed it, in the work of medical education and discovery, marked a new era in hospital construction, for which Dr. Billings deserves the chief credit.8 I find it necessary to point out, however, that Cushing noted that Billings made only 'scant provision' for a medical library at Hopkins.9 Perhaps even less well known are the contributions made by Billings to the field of vital statistics and to the technology of electric data processing. The origin of vital statistics is recognized as an English contribution. The first Bills of Mortality were prepared in 1532 and were issued from time to time until 1849, but received little attention-not even from Sydenham, until 1662 when John Graunt published his slender volume Natural and Political Observations . . . Upon the Bills of Mortality. In his book Graunt extrapolated mortality and morbidity data for various diseases in different districts of London. This modest author remarked of his own work ' . . . there is much pleasure in deducing so many abstruse, and unexpected inferences out of these poor despised Bills of Mortality; and in building upon that ground, which has lain waste these eighty years. And there is pleasure in doing something new, though never so little, without pestering the world with voluminous transcriptions."0 When the observations of Graunt and his successors were finally put to use for the improved practice of public health and clinical medicine the need for an accurate and efficient device to handle masses of data became apparent. Although Joseph Marie Jacquard in 1780 invented a machine in which perforated cards controlled the pattern of hooks and needles for use in weaving and the English mathematician, Charles Babbage, later (1828) tried to develop an 'analytical engine', it was clearly Hollerith and Billings who developed the first operational device using perforated cards for statistical purposes. 133 c at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Martin M. Cummings The invention of the electrical tabulating machine using punched cards is properly attributed to Herman Hollerith, a statistician, who was working at that time for the United States Census Office. From his own account and that of others, it is clear, however, that it was Dr. John Shaw Billings who, serving as consultant to the Census Office, first suggested to Hollerith that an electrical machine utilizing punch cards should be developed for use in the 1880 census. The evidence for this has been recently reviewed by Love, Hamilton and Hellman in their publication, Tabulating Equipment and Army Medical Statistics."' Billings himself wrote in 1891 'That the data collected by the census for each living person, or, in systems of death registration, for each decedent, might be recorded on a single card or slip by punching small holes in different parts of it, and these cards might then be assorted and counted by mechanical means according to any selected grouping of these perforations, was first suggested by Billings in 1880'.2 Finally, we have Hollerith's own statement, 'While engaged in the 10th census, that of 1880, my attention was called by Dr. Billings to the need of some mechanical device for facilitating the compilation of population and similar statistics. This led me to a consideration of the problems involved'."' Billings gave a brief description of the electric tabulator which reads in part: The cards thus punched are passed through machines in which an electrical connection is made by the passage of a metal rod through the cards wherever a hole has been punched, and the currents thus produced actuate a series of small dials on which the number of the data is recorded ... The machine not only records certain groups of facts on the dials, but has series of assorting boxes which also have electrical connections by means of which the cards, as they pass through the machine, can be assorted into groups on any system required, as, for instance, into groups of ages, into groups of birth-place, or according to birth-place of mother, or according to occupations, etc."' This electrical tabulating machine, the forerunner of the modern computer, was actually used in connection with the 1886 mortality records of the city of Baltimore. It was used also in the Surgeon General's office for compiling and tabulating Army health statistics in 1889. It handled massive amounts of data collected in the United States Census of 1890. This tabulator made it possible to complete the population count of the United States in only six weeks, a task which previously had taken more than a year when hand methods were employed. Amore comprehensive account ofthe machine is given in the publication of General Love and others cited above. It is of interest to note that Hollerith first used tape (presumably paper tape) before adopting the suggestion of Billings to use punched cards.'5 Osler was among the first to utilize machine-compiled vital statistics for application to medical research, teaching and practice. The following two letters show his eager- ness to acquire data obtained by the 1890 Census for these purposes. 1502 Walnut Street Phila. Dear Dr. Billings: Sept. 6th Sorry to trouble but I would like to know whether you think the pneumonia statistics of the last census reliable enough to draw the conclusion which they warrant, that the mortality in this disease was enormously increased. Yours sincerely, Wm. Osler 134 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Books, Computers and Medicine Baltimore, July 20th, 1891 Dear Dr. Billings: Sorry to worry a busy man, but I would like very much to know when the vital statistics of the census of 1890 will be available. I wish particularly to refer to such questions as tuberculosis among the Indians. u. s. w. Very sincerely yours, Wm. Osler P.S. I suppose it would be possible if I send some one over to get the cards on trichiniasis. I want to make a reference to the number of epidemics which have occurred in this country and the number of cases. One might say that Osler at this time modified his precept from 'From books to bedside and back to books again' to 'From computers to bedside and back to com- puters again.' Although some consider Alexander the Great as the first formal patron of research for the large sums of money and resources he made available to Aristotle for specimen collections and taxonomic research, in our country, at least, it was Dr. Billings who was responsible for the first federal grants made in support of medical research in 1880. While Librarian of the Surgeon General's Office he also served as Vice President of the National Board of Health, a short-lived predecessor of the U.S. Public Health Service. He justified the use of federally appropriated funds for support of special scientific investigations, which in itself is noteworthy. But more important he and his associates made a remarkable choice of subjects to be studied since many of these same problems remain important areas for study today. These are reported in the Annual Report of the National Board of Health, for the year 1880.16 Among the research grants awarded were the following: 1. The collection of information and advice from the principal sanitary organiza- tions and sanitarians of the United States as to the best plans for a national public health organization. 2. The investigation of yellow fever in the island of Cuba by a commission of experts consisting of Dr. G. M. Stemnberg, U.S.A. and others. 3. An investigation as to the best method of determining the amount and character of organic matter in the air by Prof. Ira Remsen, of Johns Hopkins University. 4. An investigation as to the effects of disinfecting agents upon the causes of the infectious diseases by Dr. C. F. Folsom, Dr. W. S. Bigelow, of Boston, Dr. H. P. Bowditch, professor of physiology, and Dr. Wood, professor of chemistry, in Harvard University. 5. An investigation into the adulterations of food in the United States, by Prof. R. M. Kedzie, M.D., president of the State board of health of Michigan, and by Prof. Lewis Diehl, of Louisville, Ky., as to the adulterations of drugs. 6. An investigation by Prof. J. W. Mallet, of the University of Virginia, on the best method of determining the amount of organic matter in potable water, and its effect on the health of persons who drink such water. Thus Billings, the librarian, medical bibliographer, and hospital designer may also be considered to have been one of our nation's foremost medical statisticians and science administrators. He was also the engineering consultant who designed the 135 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Martin M. Cummings ventilation system for our nation's capitol, the designer and librarian of the New York Public Library system, a feat which he accomplished by charming five million dollars from Andrew Carnegie. Here then are a few vignettes of a friend of Sir William Osler which reinforce the ideas and views that books, computers and medicine may be used together to improve and advance the state of man's health. Today, the NLM uses modern high-speed electronic computers for the organization and publication of the Index Medicus and for the storage and retrieval of citations to the world's biomedical literature. Thousands of physicians now request information as did Sir William Osler seventy-five years ago. We are planning to extend the power and scope of this automated reference retrieval system to the medical community of the United Kingdom in the same way I am sure that Billings and Osler would have implemented this in their time. Computers are being applied also to manage laboratory and clinical records of hospitals and clinics. They are used for rapid evaluation of electrocardiograms and other physiological measurements. They will undoubtedly be used for many other logical functions in teaching, research and the practice of medicine. The suggested use of digital computers as a diagnostic aid for clinical practice sends a shiver through the spine of many clinicians. If we remember that this instru- ment cannot yet take a history, perform a physical examination or administer therapy (especially psychotherapy) then we have little to fear with regard to its intrusion into medicine. On the other hand, it has a flawless memory and, given appropriate in- formation, it may be used to extend the skills of physicians by providing statistical probabilities with respect to differential diagnosis, and particularly in organizing masses of data which can be processed quickly and returned to the physician for final evaluation and judgment. I look forward to the continued use of books and computers as an aid to man's memory and as an adjunct to his skills and talents. Let us not, however, fragment the unity of medicine by attempting to exploit these new modalities of information and communication technology without considering their effects upon the welfare of people, individually and collectively, and upon the purposes which medical teaching, research and practice are dedicated. Osler and Billings were men who knew how to combine the past with the present, and concern themselves with the frailties of humanity. Unless their perspectives are retained, the art of medicine may become a cool unfeeling science, much to the discomfort of the patient and the practitioner. 'An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man,' Ralph Waldo Emerson observed more than a century ago. Osler's friend, John Shaw Billings, cast shadows over many institutions, as did Osler himself. I am grateful to you for having given me this privilege and opportunity to rekindle some of the oblique light from which these shadows were originally cast. [At the end of his speech, Dr. Cummings, on behalf of the National Library of Medicine, generously presented several of the letters cited in his talk to the Osler Club of London. The President, Dr. Charles Newman, thanked Dr. Cummings warmly for this valuable gift, which would take its place in the Club's already sub- stantial collection of Osleriana.] 136 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core Books, Computers and Medicine REFERENCES 1. Address by Sir William Osler. In: New York Public Library. Memorial Meeting in Honor of the late Dr. John Shaw Billings. April 25, 1913. New York, 1913. pp. 8-10 (p. 8). 2. CUSHING, HARvEY, The Life of Sir William Osler, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1925, vol. 1, p. 292. 3. Published (in part) in: GARRSON, FIELDING H., John Shaw Billings: a Memoir, New York, Putnams, 1915, Chapter II, pp. 19-135. 4. For the date see his 'Who Founded the National Library of Medicine', Med. Rec., N.Y., 1880, 17, 298-99. It would appear that the Library began to move into Ford's Theatre on or about 12 November 1866. See: U.S. Department of the Army, Office of the Surgeon General, The Armed Forces Institute of Pathology: its First Century 1862-1962, by Robert S. Henry, Washington, 1964, p. 54. 5. The Osler-Billings letters cited are from the collections of the National Library of Medicine or the New York Public Library. 6. HUME, EDGAR ERSKINE, Victories ofArmy Medicine, Philadelphia, Lippincott, 1943, p. 45. Dr. J. George Adami of McGill had written earlier 'I would go so far as to say that the outstanding service to medicine by the United States has been this Library [i.e. National Library of Medicine] with its publications.. .', Bull. Med. Lib. Assn., 1914, 3, 56-57. 7. CUSHING, op. cit. vol. 1, p. 297. 8. Address by Dr. William Welch. In: New York Public Library, Memorial Meeting in Honor of the late Dr. John Shaw Billings, April 25, 1913, New York 1913, pp. 10-13 (p.1). 9. CUSHING, HARVEY, Medical Career and other Papers, Boston, Little, 1940, p. 167. 10. GRAUNT, JoHN, Natural and Political Observations, mentioned in a following Index, and made upon the Bills of Mortality, 2nd ed., London, Roycroft, 1662, p. 67. 11. U.S. Department of the Army, Office of the Surgeon General, Tabulating Equipment and Army Medical Statistics. [by] Albert G. Love, Eugene L. Hamilton, and Ida Levin Hellman. Washington, 1958, Chapter 4, Development and description of electrical accounting machines, p. 36-51. The authors rely considerably upon: PEARL, R., 'Some notes on the contributions of Dr. John Shaw Billings to the development of vital statistics', Bull. Inst. Hist. M., Balt., 1938, 6, 387-93. 12. BILLINGS, J. S., 'Mechanical methods used in compiling data of the 11th U.S. Census; with an exhibition of a machine' (Abstract), Med. Rec., N.Y., 1891, 40, 407-09. 13. HOLLERITH, H., 'The electrical tabulating machine', J. Roy. Statist. Soc., 1894, 57, 678-82. 14. BILLINGS, loc. cit., p. 407-08. 15. LovE and others, op. cit., p. 38. 16. pp. 4-6. 137 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300010929 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_c27ws3u4ybepvgmqwfw2ydt6p4	----	Virtual Mentor Virtual Mentor American Medical Association Journal of Ethics February 2013, Volume 15, Number 2: 114-118. ETHICS CASE Profiling Patients to Identify Prospective Donors Commentary by Richard E. Thompson, MD As Dr. McGrath entered Mr. Drew’s hospital room, he bumped into a pleasant- looking woman in a suit walking out. “I beg your pardon. I’m Dr. McGrath, Mr. Drew’s physician. Are you his wife?” he asked. “No,” she replied, “I’m Dana, I’m with the hospital’s foundation. I was just paying Mr. Drew a visit to see how he is enjoying his stay, and if there’s anything we can do to make him more comfortable.” “Oh,” said Dr. McGrath, surprised. “Is he a hospital donor?” “Not yet,” she smiled. “We do daily wealth-screening of the patient census—it’s just software that checks what ZIP code they’re from—and then we visit patients from traditionally wealthier ZIP codes, trying to ensure that they have a pleasant hospital stay. If they want, we arrange for a newspaper to be delivered daily, and we send a welcome basket with snacks and flowers. We rely on grateful patients for a lot of the donations we receive, so this is a way to identify and impress potential donors early.” Dr. McGrath was nonplussed. “So if it looks like he could possibly donate, he gets special treatment? That doesn’t seem right to me.” “He’s not getting better medical treatment, Dr. McGrath,” said Dana. “And if we impress him and he donates money to the foundation, we can use that money to cover the costs of indigent patients, or to improve the hospital. Just last year, a donor we identified through wealth screening gave a daVinci Robot for the surgical floor.” In the physician’s lounge, Dr. McGrath brought up his concerns with Dr. Frosch, a highly respected cardiologist. “Oh sure,” said Dr. Frosch, “It’s no different than the ‘VIP floors’ that a lot of top- tier hospitals have for their super wealthy patients—you know, with famous chefs and marble floors and what-not. Dana actually has me keep one or two appointment slots open every week for donors: if we can keep them happy with our hospital, they’re much more likely to donate to the foundation, and that translates to better care for everyone.” Virtual Mentor, February 2013—Vol 15 www.virtualmentor.org 114 Commentary You can easily judge the character of a man by how he treats those who can do nothing for him. Ralph Waldo Emerson On routine rounds, Dr. McGrath has accidentally discovered his hospital’s version of the twenty-first-century fundraising activity known as wealth screening. Dr. McGrath is nonplussed, speechless, bewildered. A wealthy acquaintance of mine, an attorney-ethicist, had the same reaction when I asked him to comment on this scenario. With raised eyebrows and a skeptical look, he said, “Wow!” After a few moments he added, “Whatever happened to the Hippocratic Oath?” I, like Dr. McGrath, am nonplussed. Should we accept without further questioning the assurances of Dana and Dr. Frosch that this is an appropriate, sensitively applied fundraising technique? I think not. This situation rises to the status of genuine ethical dilemma, meaning one in which more than one judgment may be reasonable and defensible, given the disparate stakeholder interests. Recognition and analysis of this scenario’s ethical aspects will only be complete if informed by expansion in the scope of health care ethics concerns. Twenty-First-Century Health Care Ethics To the critically important traditional medical ethics issues—privacy, truth telling, professionalism, end-of-life decision making, intentional interruption of pregnancy, to name a few—twenty-first-century advances in medical biotechnology—gene therapy, stem cell therapy, nanomedicine, and assisted reproductive techniques— have added new ethical questions. Moreover, in the face of growing disparities in health status among sectors of the U.S. population, health care policy decisions emphasize social justice in new ways [1]. Finally, the changing business of health care introduces a variety of ethical concerns. As stated by Robert Hall, “Health care institutions are, in fact, business organizations, with most of the problems faced by corporate management in other fields. They differ, however, in that health care holds a special place among human needs” [2]. Hospital Philanthropy, Then and Now Hospital philanthropy is as old as hospitals themselves. Many health care campuses and regional networks owe their beginnings to early-twentieth-century collaboration between local physicians and wealthy citizens. Beneficence, concern for community, social conscience, vision, self-satisfaction, and duty are among ethical principles reflected in this highly respected collaboration. As Dr. Frosch points out in the case scenario, some hospitals build special rooms or suites specifically for the use of hospital benefactors when they require hospitalization. www.virtualmentor.org Virtual Mentor, February 2013—Vol 15 115 Bequests from grateful patients, some wealthy and some not, were once unsolicited. More and more, however, nonprofit organizations actively seek to build a list of patrons. Software vendors now offer products to assist that effort. Available databases provide information such as size of a family’s fortune, current philanthropic activity, and specific financial holdings. This is the twenty-first- century activity known as wealth screening. Recently these software companies have begun urging hospitals to apply wealth screening to hospitalized patients. One such company promises hospitals will be able to “screen your prospects against 25 databases that provide comprehensive wealth and philanthropic information, in full compliance with HIPAA regulations…. Send us the names of your newly admitted patients at the end of your workday, and you’ll have comprehensive philanthropic profiles waiting for you the next morning…” [3]. Although soliciting donations from patients is defended on the grounds that the funds pay for the care of those who are unable to pay and improve the quality of care that the community receives, this mixture of wealth screening and patient care raises several ethical issues. Professional ethics. Parts of the Hippocratic Oath are obsolete, but it remains symbolic of the profession’s commitment to patients [4]. In health care, the professional ethic means “respect for truth telling, confidentiality of personal information, and refusal to exploit others’ problems to achieve personal gain” [5]. Mixing patient care and fundraising can be construed as attempts on the hospital’s part to exploit patients and, hence, as unprofessional behavior. Now hospitals are not physicians, and the physicians are not themselves asking patients to become benefactors. But the patient-physician-hospital relationship is key to patient trust, and the integrity of that relationship is put at risk when the physician’s role in patient care is mixed in time and place with the hospital’s attempts to raise funds. I am certain that this risk is the heart of Dr. McGrath’s discomfort. Ethics of exclusivity as fairness to patients. The justice, or fairness, of special treatment for donors that we see in the case scenario comes under a concept I call the “ethics of exclusivity” [6]. When does special attention to Mr. Drew become unfair because other patients are excluded from receiving services provided to Mr. Drew? I do not begrudge Mr. Drew his free newspaper. However, the hospital must believe that providing this perk improves Mr. Drew’s hospital stay in some measure. So is it truly possible to separate nonmedical perks from patient care activities? Patient care, after all, means caring for the whole person, not just treating the person’s disease. More troublesome is the exclusionary practice Dr. Frosch mentions of asking physicians to hold unscheduled appointment time for wealthy patients. This special access deprives other patients of equal opportunity to appointments. Shorter waiting Virtual Mentor, February 2013—Vol 15 www.virtualmentor.org 116 times are not just a matter of convenience. Delay in medical or surgical intervention can increase some patients’ risk of an adverse medical outcome. The ethics of exclusion as fairness to physicians. Hospital-medical staff relations are notoriously fragile exactly because of scenarios like this one. Dr. McGrath is unpleasantly surprised to find Dana involved with his patient. He is perhaps even more surprised that Dr. Frosch is not only familiar with the practice but also participates in it. Why has the entire medical staff not been oriented to the reality of wealth screening? The hospital may risk losing the trust of excluded physicians. What Should Dr. McGrath Do? I have not argued that wealth screening is per se unethical. Rather, I have suggested that ethical reasoning validates Dr. McGrath’s intuitive uneasy feeling. Dr. McGrath should pursue his concerns. But how? This case demonstrates the need for physicians to learn and understand how organizations work. Dr. McGrath will get nowhere if he tries to handle this matter himself. Even if it pains him, he must follow organizational protocols (go through channels). Dr. McGrath should explain his discovery and his concerns to the vice president for medical affairs (VPMA). The VPMA is ordinarily an MD or DO who has chosen to be a hospital executive, providing a useful bridge between business-trained executives and clinically trained medical staff members. The VPMA’s duties usually include helping physicians understand how to use organizational machinery to get a variety of concerns effectively addressed. The VP for medical affairs should suggest involving the ethics committee. By now, most hospital ethics committees have expanded in composition and charge to encompass all aspects of twenty-first-century health care ethics, including ethical aspects of organizational behavior. “This committee’s efforts to help keep organizational systems and goals ethical can be a key to gaining much-needed public and political support, and even market share” [7]. The ethics committee, in turn, should strongly recommend development of a wealth- screening policy, with input from hospital foundation staff, medical professionals, and ethics committee members. Guidelines in the policy should balance the interests and concerns of all stakeholders in this activity. In sum, I argue that if wealth screening and patient care must be mixed, then the activity would be safer and more effective if guided by a policy developed with practitioner input. www.virtualmentor.org Virtual Mentor, February 2013—Vol 15 117 References 1. Thompson RE. Healthcare Reform as Social Change: Why Successful Physicians and Health Care Executives are Retooling the Health Care Industry. Tampa, FL: American College of Physician Executives; 1993. 2. Hall RT. An Introduction to Healthcare Organizational Ethics. New York: Oxford University Press; 2000: vii. 3. DonorSearch. Healthcare fundraising: challenges and opportunities. http://www.donorsearch.net/NonProfit/healthcare.html. Accessed October 29, 2012. 4. Thompson RE. I swear by Apollo, the Hippocratic Oath is obsolete. Physician Exec. 2004;30(2):60-63. 5. Thompson RE. Assault on the professional ethic: will professionalism survive? Physician Exec. 2007;33(5):80-82. 6. Thompson RE. The ethics of exclusivity: should doctors practice concierge medicine? Physician Exec. 2009;35(5):96-99. 7. So, You’re on the Ethics Committee: A Primer and Practical Guidebook, 65. Richard E. Thompson, MD, has dealt firsthand with ethical dilemmas as a private practitioner, pioneer neonatologist, staff member of the Joint Commission, vice president of the Illinois Hospital Association, and hospital credentials and quality assessment consultant. He is an adjunct online instructor in health care ethics at Drury University in Springfield, Missouri. His publications include So, You’re on the Ethics Committee, A Primer and Practical Guidebook (American College of Physician Executives, 2012). Related in VM Is Understaffing a Unit a Form of Rationing Care? November 2012 Balancing Practice Economics with Patient Need, August 2011 The people and events in this case are fictional. Resemblance to real events or to names of people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The viewpoints expressed on this site are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the AMA. Copyright 2013 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. Virtual Mentor, February 2013—Vol 15 www.virtualmentor.org 118 http://virtualmentor.ama-assn.org/2012/11/ecas3-1211.html http://virtualmentor.ama-assn.org/2011/08/ccas1-1108.html 
work_c64l7c7revfslkw2jzydryzqqi	----	1996 CONFERENCE PROCEEDINGS AMERICAN RELIGION/AUSTRALIAN RELIGION James Tulip Father Robert Drinan SJ, the American Jesuit priest and former Congressman, surprised his Australian audience recently by saying that he thought Australia was a very religious country. They assured him quickly that it wasn't, and surprised him in turn by saying that they thought the United States was a very religious country. Father Drinan seemed mystified. So much for a prophet - or a saint - in his or her own country! What Drinan had in mind, it turned out, was the way the Australian Government supports financially those institutions - religious or other - which are active in such fields as health and education for the public welfare. In the United States a constitutional separation of Church and State prevents any such cooperation - although Drinan expressed some anxiety lest the growing power of the right-wing fundamentalists might be eroding this principle. As a liberal, he feared more the loss of this constitutional separation (in view of the potential religious totalitarianism of the religious Right) than the restrictions under which the US now operates. At the same time he clearly envied the Australian solution. Why Australians think of the US as a religious society is for a variety of reasons, foremost of which might be the pietistic rhetoric used by US Presidents and politicians compared with the secularised invective from Canberra. Yet there are many differences and paradoxes in the comparison of the US and Australia in religious terms. Harold Bloom, the Yale literary scholar, in The American Religion (1992) endorses Donald Meyer's view that: separation of church and state, with its ban on any establishment of religion ... carried the positive meanings that Americans were free to invent new theologies, new churches, new religions. This fertility of invention was not some principle laid down in the Constitution but a fact of American life.l Separation of church and state has energised American religion. By being separated from the State, religion in the US has led to reconstruct itself in ways peculiar to the time, place and culture of the people. Bloom's book is a remarkable embrace by an intellectual of the various forms which Christianity has taken under this stimulus of innovation and self-reliance. The Mormons, the Southern Baptists, Christian Scientists, 107 Religion, Literature and the Arts Project Seventh-Day Adventists, Jehovah's Witnesses, Pentecostalists and New Age adherents are studied. Mainstream Christianity, World Religions and Feminism receive short shrift. It is the originality of vision and experience in American religion that catches Bloom's attention . He sees here "a way of knowing" that is peculiar to the American cultural psyche and which he claims is religious. As a literary scholar Bloom places great value on the nineteenth century transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson and the twentieth century poet, Wallace Stevens. Here he finds a form of reasoning and reflection that bridges religious belief and literary imagination. Literature and religion flow in and out of each other in the American tradition of culture. To study the language of US Presidents, especially their formal speeches, is to see the roots of US politics in religion and literature. Religion, by contrast, suffered in Australian history by seeming to be too close to an English establishment. In reaction, the surging democratic socialist-leaning forces of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century turned to a secularism as an ideology. The cultural despisers of religion in universities and intellectual circles also forcefully articulated this ideology as a dominant style. The powerful Irish and Roman Catholic wing of Christianity reinforced this division of Church and State by retreating to a fortress mentality. The result was a general attitude of more or less tacit repressiveness towards religion. The 1960's, when the Government began its support for church schools and hospitals although in a strictly neutral and secular basis marked a belated change in the negative tradition. Ironically, a kind of double-jointed genius has become the Australian style. The State appears not directly to recognise religion, but supports it indirectly. Separateness now adds up to a strange coherence. There is no integration of religious style into politics as in the United States. Canberra is a centre of the nation but mainly in a formal way. One recent study of the Australian situation in this regard is that of David J Tacey in Edge of the Sacred: Transformation in Australia (1995) . Tacey, a literary scholar from La Trobe University, is becoming known for his writings along Jungian and Hillman lines. His study of Patrick White, with much reference to the unconscious and to archetypes, has aroused strong reactions. In Edge of the Sacred Tacey, in taking up the question of an Australian spirituality, seems to accept that there is no central tradition of values in imagination to draw upon. He points his own experience as central, his own experience of the land and of Aboriginal culture. He works from the 108 1996 CONFERENCE PROCEEDINGS periphery towards a centre where, as he sees it, 'an authentic rediscovery of the sacred is already in preparation here'.2 Tacey's early years spent in Alice Springs gave him a sense in a literal way of the Centre; and through his experience of the Land there and of being introduced to Aboriginal customs and beliefs he developed a strong sense of what he calls 'the Other'. It was this combination of the Centre and the other that Tacey refined with the help of his readings in Carl Jung, D. H. Lawrence and James Hillman into a vantage point from which to interpret Australian literature and, beyond that, Australian culture and history. Tacey's is a visionary text, but one that grounds itself, realistically, in the factual realities of Australian life. Comparison of Bloom and Tacey shows there is considerable difference between the conditions that apply in the United States and Australia in terms of the relation between religion and culture. The United States, if we follow Harold Bloom's line, draws on centuries' old traditions which by virtue of their quality of inclusiveness lead to a modern embracing of what is new and marginal in society. The Australian religious tradition by virtue of itself being rather exclusive has forced artists and thinkers away from itself as a Centre and out to the peripheries of experience and imagination, and from there to return and recreate a Centre. Bloom finds in the United States a religion characterised by what he terms 'Enthusiasm, Gnosticism and American Orphism'. Enthusiasm comes from European roots, and was focussed in the eighteenth century in the Wesleys and Jonathon Edwards; and leading on to emphasise personal experience, especially conversion. Gnosticism (which Bloom obviously believes is the religious Zeitgeist in these premillenarian days) is the special knowledge of God separate from the Judaeo-Christian traditions which holds that the true God is unknown and ineffable, that the material world is inferior and that human beings have a spiritual part trapped here and needing to escape to the divine world through knowledge of one's spiritual nature. Gnosis of the divine, therefore, is essentially knowledge of self. Ralph Waldo Emerson for Bloom is a focus for this position in American terms. ForBioom Emerson is also the focus of what he calls Orphism, a religious position of the elitist self. Bloom's use of those abstract, qualitative and universal criteria for defining the American religion allows him to spread himself across the historical and political spectrum to claim Ronald Reagan and George Bush enmeshed in his spiritual perspective, and Billy Graham as a national icon more than a biblical evangelist. 109 Religion, Literature and the Arts Project Bloom's embrace of all the peripheral aspects of American religious experience is something new and positive in western intellectual terms . His literary stance allows him freedom of movement between the world of ideas and beliefs and historical and political material. He identifies with the prophetic insight of the early Mormons, and celebrates a relatively unknown Southern Baptist theologian E Y Mullins whose 1908 text The Axioms of Religion reads for Bloom like the discovery of a nerve centre in the American psyche. Yet alongside his appreciations of American spiritualities, Bloom as a prophet is somewhat limited; he projects his own feeling and ego into his subject. In May 1991 he writes 'my fear is that we will never see a Democrat in the Presidency during my lifetime'!! How these Gnostic readings of religion in the US and Australia stand up to argument is therefore before us. Tacey's is not consciously an ideological reading of Australian spirituality. Yet he is confident as to the presence and reality of ' the Unconscious' and 'the other' . He seems to have transferred the transcendalist terms Bloom accepts into a new orientation: not upwards towards an absolute but downwards and inwards towards a relational situation. The likeness of US and Australian religions comes from the fact of their being two modern democratic and largely secular societies. Yet within this likeness there is a difference and paradox . A sense of unity or oneness in the US is recognisable in rhetorical styles and a pietistic foregrounding of patriotism . In Australia unity or oneness is more repressed, or recessed; cautious of calling itself or seeing itself as religious, yet through a mystique of the land and a growing accommodation to indigenous spirituality, most strongly articulated by the Aboriginal people, emerging to greater self- reliance and maturity in, as many feel, the future development of Australia as a republic . REFERENCES 1 Bloom, Th( American Religio n, p. 55. 2 Tacey, Edge of the Sacred, p. 4. 110 
work_bu6astec7rbpfncsd3vnfhu6v4	----	Review Article Translational Research: From Biological Discovery to Public Benefit (or Not) Michael R. Emmert-Buck Avoneaux Medical Institute, Oxford, MD 21654, USA Correspondence should be addressed to Michael R. Emmert-Buck; mikeeb@atlanticbb.net Received 18 February 2014; Revised 14 May 2014; Accepted 14 May 2014; Published 30 June 2014 Academic Editor: Dušan Kordiš Copyright © 2014 Michael R. Emmert-Buck. This is an open access article distributed under the Creative Commons Attribution License, which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Advances in biology are occurring at a breathtaking pace today, from genetic insights facilitated by the Human Genome Project and next generation DNA sequencing technologies, to global nucleic acid and proteomic expression measurement using new high-throughput methods. Less publicized in recent years, yet still the central driver of progress, are the steadily proceeding biological insights gained through tried and true hypothesis-driven investigation into the complex worlds of metabolism, growth, development, and regulation. Certainly, the basic science ecosystem is productive and this portends well for the myriad new applications that will benefit mankind; drugs, vaccines, devices, and related economic growth—or perhaps not—in stark contrast to the generation of fundamental biological knowledge are inefficiencies in applying this information to real-world problems, especially those of the clinic. While investigation hums along at light speed, translation often does not. The good news is that obstacles to progress are tractable. The bad news, however, is that these problems are difficult. The present paper examines translational research from multiple perspectives, beginning with a historical account and proceeding to the current state of the art. Included are descriptions of successes and challenges, along with conjecture on how the field may need to evolve in the future. 1. Introduction Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail. (Ralph Waldo Emer- son) Nothing exemplifies the quote above from Emerson more than the translation of a biological discovery into a new drug, device, or other intervention that helps society. This is no easy task. The stakes here are high—human health and wellbeing; thus it is important that the translational system is critically examined and understood in order to maximize the likeli- hood that basic research performed in the laboratory and clinic benefits the public [1–7] (see Appendix for relevant websites). Moreover, if positive economic activity is gener- ated this strengthens the biotechnology and pharmaceutical company sectors, which in turn grows the scientific ecosys- tem writ large, ultimately making more funds available for research and training, creating high-level jobs, and increasing appreciation of the overall enterprise by the public [8–10]. At the outset, it is important to recognize three important aspects of translational research as it is performed today. First, the system is not broken per se as there are many advances to celebrate, exemplified by the discovery, production, and distribution of new medicines, antibiotics to treat bacterial infections and insulin to manage diabetes as two classic examples which are wonderful success stories. Second, the endeavor is exceptionally challenging [11– 17]. This aspect should not be minimized. The undertaking is difficult and failure is frequent. It is easy to sit on the sidelines and find fault with the scientific research enterprise or specific translational components, but this is not helpful. What is useful is to honestly assess current principles and procedures and then to ideate and test alterations that will improve efficiency in the future. Finally, the fact that translational research is both impor- tant and difficult calls for and even demands a maximally effective system. In many instances, solving the biological and medical matters at hand will be problematic in the best of circumstances and straightforward answers will not be Hindawi Publishing Corporation Advances in Biology Volume 2014, Article ID 278789, 20 pages http://dx.doi.org/10.1155/2014/278789 2 Advances in Biology forthcoming. But the public and patients, current and future, need this process to work well; thus investigators need to be imaginative in the ways they pursue science that will benefit the public [18–24]. What might translational research look like moving forward? Of course, predicting the future is always risky as there are numerous unknowns to account for. However, looking ahead, one might expect to see the formation of radical new organi- zations. These structures will not simply be updated versions of today’s academic, government, and commercial entities, since they carry with them much historical baggage, but new rationally designed entities that specifically address the relevant challenges—silos, cultures, environments, models, incentives, bureaucracy, and access for young investigators. The goal of these future institutions will be to replace, improve, or augment methods used today, leaving no dogma unexamined in the process. Although sweeping changes in translational structures may be necessary and valuable, one should not foolishly ignore the positive lessons of the past; indeed, moving ahead it is better to understand and build upon today’s successful systems—observe, measure, hypothesize, analyze, improve, and repeat. A particular danger when examining the overall biomed- ical research landscape is to either conflate basic science and translational research, or to play the two against each other. The disciplines are distinct sides of the same coin, and not a mutually exclusive, zero-sum game. Diminishing the value of either activity, which often occurs as arguments regarding resources and funding, will have a clear outcome—it will alter the title of this paper from a concerned questioning (or Not) toward a declarative statement (No Chance). The situation is nuanced when it comes to the rel- ative value of basic and translational research. Certainly, there were impressive and dazzling biological discoveries in the twentieth and early twenty-first centuries to which the proponents of basic science can point as markers of success and progress. And much good has resulted in society based on these efforts. Yet critics trenchantly assert that the medical and societal payoff has been suboptimal and slow, especially for some of the more common illnesses, and that rational application of new knowledge into therapies, most hopefully embodied today in terms such as personalized and precision medicine, has only minimally materialized. Perhaps the scientific community thought that the biological advances of the past 50–100 years would easily and automatically lead to cures for most or all diseases. They have not. Yet they have absolutely set the stage for great applications to come—the question is not if these wonderful biological insights will be translated into useful drugs and medical devices, but when, which reflects back to the efficiency of the system as a whole. It seems that a new approach to the process of translation is needed, one that is as much inventive and creative as analytic. Ideally, it would be performed by investigators with a wide breadth of knowledge and expertise; by those who continue to push the boundaries of basic knowledge because they are puzzled by and interested in nature; by those who are willing to leave their comfort zones to continually learn new fields; and, perhaps most importantly, by those who see the freedom and financial support they receive to pursue biomedical science as a gift, one that comes with an internal price tag and social responsibility, to ensure the new basic knowledge they generate helps patients and the public, urgently, as soon as possible, by whatever means necessary. Not instead of basic research, not in place of curiosity-driven science, but in addition to it, as a direct return to those who provide the support. The goal of the present paper is to briefly review the history and principles of translational research. More impor- tantly, the aim is to evaluate the craft as it is practiced today. And then most importantly, to ponder ways it could be better practiced tomorrow. 2. Definitions Terminology Matters. To ensure proper communication it is necessary to agree upon definitions, especially in transla- tional research since much of the jargon that touches upon the field is used inexactly, with varying connotations and interpretations [25, 26]. Moreover, there are several distinct yet overlapping perspectives from which to view the activity. As a Process. Translational research is thought of broadly as the progression of a new scientific insight or discovery into a useful product, medicine, or other societal interventions. The endeavor covers all areas of science, from biological to physical to social, and essentially any effort to create public benefit from studies utilizing the scientific method fit into this category. The process can be divided into sequential subcomponents, often referred to as the T1 and T2 phases, although others have developed a more in-depth definition that includes additional phases (see Appendix). T1 is the development of a concept/discovery into a useful product or procedure, whereas T2 refers to the widespread adoption of that product/procedure by the public. Under the broad umbrella of translational research are subcategories related to specific fields. The definitions here are fuzzy, but generally translational biology is the application of biological research into a useful invention, for example, a microbe that is capable of catabolizing waste products. In contrast, translational medicine specifically focuses on creating clinically useful products or procedures, irrespective of the source research, biological, physical, or social. As a Science. Investigations can be divided into two cate- gories that are relevant to translational research: basic and applied science. Basic studies seek fundamental knowledge, are nondirected, and are driven by curiosity and by a desire to understand a physical or biological system. The fundamental knowledge generated is an end unto itself. In contrast, applied research is a focused and targeted effort that seeks a specific goal, a solution to a problem. The terminology can be confusing in biological and medical studies, especially those impacting patients and the clinic, because the concepts are often used erroneously— “basic” for laboratory work and “applied” for clinical studies, with translation being a unidirectional arrow from bench to bedside. However, these descriptions misuse the fundamental Advances in Biology 3 Discovery or invention Basic science - Clinic - Clinic - Laboratory - Laboratory Drug, device, intervention Applied science Translational science Curiosity Serendipity Knowledge Mentoring Entrepreneurs Figure 1: Virtuous Cycle. An iterative process that produces new knowledge, biological applications, and medical interventions. meaning of the terminology and lead to a poor understanding of the iterations that occur during the process. Accurate descriptions are as follows: (i) basic science in the laboratory—seeks fundamental knowledge about physical or biological processes; (ii) applied science in the laboratory—studies directed toward a specific utility; (iii) basic science in the clinic—seeks fundamental knowl- edge on human pathophysiology; (iv) applied science in the clinic—development of a med- ical intervention. When used correctly, the terminology points to translational research as a highly interactive process, with a flow of information in multiple directions—a concept one can think of as a virtuous cycle, illustrated in Figure 1. As an Analyst or Inventor. Further overlaid atop the defi- nitions of translational research and peripherally related to definitions of basic and applied science is the methodology that investigators use to advance their work—analyst and inventor are good terms to use. An analyst examines the mechanistic basis of a particular phenomenon, for example, the molecular elements that control bacterial cell growth or the underlying principles of a medical device. Using a reductionist approach, the analyst examines the physical and molecular mechanisms through hypothesis generation, experimental testing, and then vali- dation or revision based on empirical results. Although the process may involve adaptation of a technology to further objectives, the primary focus is on probing and understand- ing the unknown. The subject matter is highly focused and the analyst knows “a lot about a little”; in fact, they know more about the molecular phenomenon or device than anyone ever, an impressive feat. In contrast, inventors know “a little about a lot” and their goal is to create something new—to mix, match, and assemble various bits and pieces of what they know into something never before seen—more like an artist than an analyst. For example, instead of examining the molecular mechanism of bacterial growth, an inventor may use a blank canvas and their knowledge of bioengineering, optics, cell biology, genomics, and microscopy to create a novel imaging system—a new technology that reveals insight into DNA conformational states that mediate cell division, an impressive feat of a different sort, one that will open up whole new avenues of investigation for the analysts. In the real world, the virtuous cycle illustrated in Figure 1 is an exciting, difficult, stop-and-start process comprised of a mix of different types of translational research processes, different types of basic and applied science, and different types of analytic and inventive researchers, with an amalgam of hybrid forms and many shades of gray. Hidden within this whirlwind is the most important aspect, the one that begs the critical question vis-à-vis the virtuous cycle—how can the system be improved? 3. Historical Perspective Although translational research is sometimes portrayed as a relatively new concept, initially coined in the 1980s, the process has in fact been practiced for millennia. Early examples exist in agriculture and in training of animals for domestic purposes. Loosely applied, any effort to improve the human condition based on new scientific knowledge can be considered translational: breeding of crops, use of fertilizers, and development of crude pesticides. Moreover, outside of biology and medicine, the translation of new knowledge in physics and electrical engineering into silicon- based devices over the past half-century has been nothing short of spectacular, world-changing to be sure. At present, though, the most popular use of the term “translational research” refers specifically to work within the biomedical research community. 4 Advances in Biology Insulin timeline from discovery to clinical application 1850 2000 1869 1889 1901 1916 1921 1922 1950s 1960s 1980s Discovery of pancreatic islets Destruction of islets in diabetic patients discovered Active ingredient “isletin” (insulin) localized to islets Insulin amino acid sequence determined Commercial, genetically engineered insulin available Link between pancreas and diabetes established Successful treatment of diabetes in Successful treatment of diabetes in animal model using crude using crude pancreatic extract first patient extract of isletin Synthetic insulin produced Figure 2: Insulin. Steps in the understanding of pancreatic islets and insulin biochemistry, and subsequent clinical treatment of diabetes. Alexander Fleming’s notable discovery of the Penicillium mold in 1928, followed by discovery of techniques to extract the antibiotic for treatment of bacterial infections, is a classic example of translational medicine, highlighting the tremendous upside of the process [27, 28]. Similarly, the discovery of insulin and its use in treating diabetes is a remarkable achievement of the 19th and 20th centuries, with the major advances shown in a timeline in Figure 2 [29, 30]. From both scientific and clinical perspectives, the insulin story represents 150 years of stunning progress, basic inves- tigation of anatomy and physiology, specifically the pancreas and Islets of Langerhans; early treatment of diabetic patients with relatively crude extract forms of the hormone; and then utilization of new laboratory techniques in molecular biology for in vitro production of biosynthetic insulin, including novel analogue forms with clinically useful activity such as rapid onset and increased serum half-life [31–34]. Prior to the use of insulin in the 1920s, diabetes was a near death sentence for patients. The disease was associated with high levels of morbidity and mortality and was particularly cruel in the way it affected children. The discovery and medical application of insulin altered forever the fate of those affected by the illness, followed by successive waves of improved benefit as basic and applied science pushed the frontiers of knowledge, continually making the disease easier to manage and life better for patients [35–38]. The commercial production of biosynthetic insulin by Genentech in the 1970s was a watershed event, for all intents and purposes marking the dawn of the modern biotechnol- ogy industry, a key inflection point. The effect on applied science and economic activity cannot be overstated as this commercial success engendered both interest and confidence in the burgeoning industry, an enterprise that now does tremendous good in society [39] (see Appendix). The insulin pioneers blazed an exciting and important new trail, showing what was possible in the field of translational research and biotechnology. The insulin story also highlights the important historical role of societal investment in science, including philan- thropic support, government funding, involvement of aca- demic institutions, and R&D efforts in pharmaceutical and biotechnology companies [40–47]. Without this robust and flourishing ecosystem all the societal good that resulted from discovering and utilizing insulin would have happened more slowly, or perhaps not at all. Besides antibiotics and insulin, there are many trans- lational medicine success stories over the past century. These advances range from progress in understanding and managing cardiovascular disease, to improvements in cancer therapies, particularly for childhood leukemia, to advances in treating psychiatric illnesses. A particularly exciting cutting edge area is synthetic biology, integration of genomic data sets, molecular biology, and new synthesis tools to design organisms with novel functions [48–71]. The potential appli- cations here are almost endless; organisms as laboratory tools for basic research, bacteria useful in cleanup of petroleum spills, new vaccine production methods, and defining the critical gene set necessary for independent life. As with other genomic areas of research, synthetic biology carries with it a degree of risk; thus there is an important need for regulatory oversight [72–78]. In the context of the virtuous cycle, such supervision needs to mitigate potential hazards without becoming excessive or stultifying. Today, many projects are influenced by advances occur- ring in basic and applied genomics, undergirded by rapid technological improvements in DNA sequencing that enable Advances in Biology 5 a wide spectrum of new research avenues, economic develop- ment, and clinical applications [79–89]. If ever a case needs to be made for the societal value of translational research, genomics is an on-going success story par excellence [76, 90– 106]. In each historical example one can see manifestation of the important principles embodied in the virtuous cycle, sci- entific curiosity, chance discoveries and serendipity, targeted goals, successful products and procedures, and continued knowledge generation and product improvement; spin the cycle again. Additional noteworthy elements based on past history include free and unfettered scientific inquiry with an emphasis on bottom-up investigator-initiated studies, information flow through a peer-reviewed publication pro- cess, training and mentoring of young investigators as a cultural norm and expectation of senior researchers, and an entrepreneurial culture that rewards risk-taking and produc- tivity. New Tools. Important translational elements created over the past few decades include a spectrum of educational programs, conferences, journals, organizations, academic societies, and analytic tools for measuring cost and effectiveness—all parts of a system that nurtures growth of new ideas [107–119]. For example, scientific journals in this space now include the following: Science Translational Medicine—http://stm.science- mag.org/; Journal of Translational Medicine—http://www.trans- lational-medicine.com/; Translational Research—http://www.translationalres. com/; American Journal of Translational Research—http:// ajtr.org/; Translational Medicine—http://www.omicsonline. org/translational-medicine.php; Clinical and Translational Gastroenterology—http:// www.nature.com/ctg/index.html; Clinical and Translational Medicine—http://www. clintransmed.com/; Clinical and Translational Science—http://onlineli- brary.wiley.com/journal/10.1111/(ISSN)1752-8062. In the United States, two historical developments that moved the field forward were the Bayh-Dole act passed by the US Congress in 1980 and establishment of offices of technol- ogy transfer at universities and medical centers [120, 121]. Together, the new law and administrative structures are a mechanism for commercializing government-supported discoveries, with a positive effect on the translational land- scape and economy. At present, the primary debate around the Bayh-Dole act is efficiency and, namely, determining if the law as written and the current methods employed by technology transfer offices are optimal [122–127]. 4. Challenges and Conjecture So, based on historical successes in the field of translational research and the current exciting advances that are occurring in genomics, synthetic biology, and in other areas, what is the problem? Why does the title of this article end with (or Not)? Actually, there are many problems. The aim here is not to be overly critical or negative, nor is it to miss the wonderful advances that are occurring by focusing too much on the shortcomings of translational research as it is practiced today. All steps forward in this space should be recognized and celebrated, and society is wise to build upon these accomplishments. Moreover, when one scans the translational landscape it is evident that there are many pockets of excellence, where success outweighs failure and development of new concepts triumphs the difficulties. However, that being said, there is much anecdotal and objective evidence to suggest the enterprise is not operating at full speed, due both to inherent challenges in the process and to a set of problems that are self-induced [3, 4, 7, 11–16, 18, 110]. Eight distinct yet overlapping areas in need of assessment are listed below. This set of issues is not exhaustive, of course, and there are additional elements that should be explored further, the relationship between academia and industry as a prime example. However, the topics listed below touch on many of the key difficulties in translational research as it is practiced today: (i) integration (silo problem); (ii) model systems; (iii) data reproducibility; (iv) distributed power; (v) mission; (vi) clinical research; (vii) bureaucracy; (viii) selection of investigators. Acknowledgment of the inefficiencies in translational research is heard not just among those involved in science and medicine, but across the spectrum of society, including the business community and popular press (see Appendix). An article in Newsweek in 2010 illustrates the debate occurring in public forums, accurately describing many of the frustrations with the process amongst funders and patient advocacy groups. Similarly, two 2013 articles in Time Magazine covered the Stand Up to Cancer (SU2C) program that originated in the entertainment industry, highlighting similar dissatisfactions. As the primary beneficiaries of the fruits of scientific inquiry, the public is rightly interested in this matter and wise to be concerned with how translation is practiced. When evaluating inefficiencies within the translational research system, it is important to be cognizant of the dif- ficulties associated with turning new knowledge into useful societal benefit. The task is not easy and the process almost never occurs simply or with a perfectly uphill progression 6 Advances in Biology slope. To make this point more strongly, consider the devel- opment of silicon-based technologies (electronics, comput- ers) as opposed to the biotechnology field. One observes a marked contrast between the two. Whereas the basic substrates and building materials for electronics are relatively well understood and behaved, not to mention nonliving, carbon-based life forms remain mysterious in many respects and the capacity to design and control them is limited. The amount of information and high-level regulatory control is considerable, rendering the task of transducing biological knowledge daunting. A major inflection point in the electronics and computer industries was the invention of solid-state transistors at Bell Laboratories in the mid 1900s, greatly increasing the capabilities of logic-based circuits; electronic design on a new scale became possible leading to rapid improvements in man- ufacturing, notably the development of integrated circuits and an explosion in devices, applications, and computing power—the virtuous cycle went into overdrive [128–130]. In contrast, the design and manufacture of carbon-based systems, although underway and successful to some extent, insulin production as an example, has not yet come to fruition in a manner analogous to electronics. In fact, one may argue that many advances have been more fortuitous than rationally designed, hijacking nature’s strategies in order to accomplish specific and limited goals. This situation may be changing now, with new synthetic biology tools perhaps analogous to invention of the solid-state transistor, although one must be cautious about over promising in this space until more substantive progress is made. The key point, given the biological challenges, is to again highlight the absolute need for a maximally efficient and supportive translational ecosystem. Here, good enough is not good enough; business as usual will not suffice and a sense of urgency is needed; inefficiencies must be recognized and then mitigated or eliminated—much in human health depends on getting this right. Looking forward, the crucial question is how could the translational system specifically be improved? How could successes be built upon while at the same time minimizing elements that lead to failure? One imagines there will be many “correct ways” to translate biological and medical knowledge to the public, depending on the specific circumstances and health care issues involved. Diversity and experimentation are good things—one size does not fit all. Therefore, instead of focusing on specific organizational structures or institutional hier- archies that might be useful in the future, it is better to examine general principles and speculate on how they might be experimented with and improved upon. Importantly, the future design of translational research systems needs to be developed with young investigators firmly in mind. Their drive to succeed will be based on achieving specific goals—satisfy curiosity, produce new knowledge, engender societal good, personal financial ben- efit, entrepreneurial satisfaction, contribution to society’s economic development, and inventors’ pride. Additionally, many of them will desire to be part of something bigger, part of an exciting environment they are proud to be associated with, a cool brand if you will. Tomorrow’s leaders need to carefully consider what their organization stands for, how it operates, and why bright young folks would want to be involved. Integration (Silo Problem). When one asks investigators about challenges in translating new research advances into applica- tions, a frequent complaint is the difficulty in traversing the various components of the system, disciplines and subdisci- plines in academia, the laboratory, the clinic, and the public and private sectors, the so-called silo problem. Certainly, there are many positive aspects emanating from scientific and medical subcultures; silos are not all bad. However, when the biological or clinical problem at hand requires a multidisciplinary approach or requires the synergy of more than one discipline, the translational system begins to show its weakness—instead of whirring along productively, the virtuous cycle becomes slow and ossified. An organization or department populated by researchers from within a scientific or medical discipline provides a comfortable group with whom to discuss ideas, share excite- ment about new advances, obtain technical advice, and commiserate together when projects go badly. Moreover, congregation of like-minded investigators around a focused mission helps to promote productive specialization and a high degree of expertise in many fields, a process essential in moving science and business forward. In contrast, congregation of unlike-minded investigators from across disciplines stretches everyone’s understanding of science and medicine, provides different sorts of thinking and problem solving skills, and exposes investigators to materials and technological capabilities of which they were unaware. Such arrangements also promote work “at the edges,” areas where subtypes of science and medicine overlap, a historically difficult yet exciting and often productive cauldron. More- over, this environment provides ready access to theoretical and technical feedback, offering early-stage reality checks on ideas that transcend an individual’s expertise—does this make sense? Both organizational structures have value, although the more usual is the former not the latter. Looking ahead, though, institutional environments need to be questioned more deeply. Is it better to create a new university or company department organized around a particular theme or discipline, physiology or cancer biology for example? Or is it better to build multidisciplinary departments and units—a biochemist, a physicist, a clinician, an engineer, a social worker, and a business expert? Would this be a more productive arrangement than a theme-centric department or division in academia or industry? Would this approach spin ideas more rapidly and efficiently through the iterative virtu- ous cycle, with input coming from multiple perspectives? One does see examples across the research community showing progress in this regard, at least to some extent. The establishment of Clinical and Translational Research Centers at institutions across the US represents recognition of the need for multidisciplinary environments that support the scientific activities and career development of translational researchers [115, 131]. However, these resources are typically Advances in Biology 7 provided atop a well-established silo system, as an attempt to counteract compartmentalization, so impact is somewhat limited. Looking ahead, nonsilo, multidisciplinary organizational structures built de novo from the ground up may be necessary to make progress on many diseases and is an area for future innovation. Although such environments likely will play a key role moving forward, one needs to be careful not to throw out the baby with the bathwater. Individuals pursuing their own ideas and passions will always be the lifeblood of successful investigation. Science by committee or by forced collaboration is rarely successful. A particular concern when designing an integrative environment is when a leader is selected based on success in a traditional silo, Chairman of Biochemistry, for example, who then requires researchers to follow those specific cultural practices, square pegs into round holes; this is a recipe for slow progress if not sure- fire failure. Big-tent leaders and big-tent environments will be essential. One way to encourage multi-investigator activities is to establish incentive programs that reward these efforts, under- standing there is a natural inertia to “leaving the laboratory.” There are many ways to accomplish this goal, for example, a royalty-based payment structure, somewhat similar to profit- sharing mechanisms used by many corporate concerns. In this scenario, a defined percentage of commercialization income is dispersed to everyone in a department as a reward for participating in an interactive and collegial environment. In other words, at least to a degree, “your success is my success and vice-versa.” If an investigator has a commercial triumph it benefits all, producing income and funds to support infrastructure and training, thereby incentivizing efforts to help colleagues and mentor young researchers— one never knows when and how such efforts will pay off—a method to lubricate the virtuous cycle. In contrast to oiling the cycle, there is one aspect of the silo problem within academia that stands out as particularly pernicious, a concept akin to pouring molasses onto the virtuous cycle. Many in the research community agree the issue is particularly problematic and needs to be resolved, and sooner rather than later. Others are harsher in their assessment—worst idea ever. The concept is that an individual investigator can be either a basic scientist or an applied scientist, but never both—each person must stay in one silo or the other. An ingrained cultural academic credo accompanies this sort of thinking, often proclaimed loudly and in an authori- tarian tone; “Everyone knows that basic scientists are highly superior to applied scientists since they are pure, noble, and unencumbered by the grubbiness of commercialization.” What follows naturally is that doing applied science somehow lessens one’s ability as a basic researcher and that less knowledge and breadth of experience is preferable to more. A hyperfocus on one’s primary scientific interest within a silo is said to be the only way to succeed. Never mind that the actual evidence is contradictory to this assertion, as investigators who are the most entrepreneurial remain productive with respect to basic science, produce large numbers of high-quality scientific publications, and are often the “superstars” of their fields [132–135]. And never mind that even the most theoretical of academic scientists and mathematicians typically participate in a wide range of activities: teaching, mentoring, fundraising, grant writing, and departmental faculty matters to name a few. Participating in applied science and commercialization at a modest level, or even as a consultant, is considered disqualifying by many, rendering one impure, on the dark side, and no longer capable of performing high-quality basic science. A common accompaniment to this notion is that com- mercialization induces scientific bias due to financial incen- tives, a charge that is not necessarily supported by published studies on the influence of industry funding [136]. And what of the other biases that exist in academia? Obtaining grants, being promoted, attaining tenure, publishing manuscripts, and personal recognition are all potential bias-inducing reward mechanisms. These too should be disqualifying based on the logic of the silo system. Clearly, conflicts of interest across a broad spectrum of activities are simply part and parcel of biomedical research. The remedy is not to shut down the system or abdicate the responsibility of helping patients and the public. Rather, the remedy is transparency, responsible oversight, and well-defined guidelines, features that should be emphasized in all translational organizations, especially when studies touch upon the clinic. To the uninitiated, the silo problem may appear as an amusing and somewhat silly aspect of human nature within the scientific community that researchers like to encase them- selves into a silo and tell everyone who will listen why their particular discipline is better than others. But to the initiated this is a grave problem. Self-imposed compartmentalization. A highly ingrained, dogmatic, and cultural ethos passed down from generation to generation—stay in your silo, all other work is inferior, and commercialization is uncouth to boot. The outcome of this basic versus applied mentality, the insidious aspect, is that commercial and clinical applications become “someone else’s problem.” For many academics, simply doing basic research, generating knowledge, and publishing manuscripts is sufficient. Their day is done. But consider the effect of this scenario on the virtuous cycle. The people who best know the intricacies of a particular line of scientific inquiry—the creators, the discoverers, and the inventors—the key holders of information, both theo- retical and experiential, remain on the sidelines and do not participate significantly in moving their work to patients and the public, based on a premise that is patently untrue, that human beings cannot multitask. From a first-principles engineering viewpoint, could there be a worse design flaw in today’s translational system? The role of the most important element in the virtu- ous cycle, the creative individual scientist, the key driver of progress, is artificially diminished—their energy, drive, knowledge, and expertise dissipate away—and it is someone else’s problem. In the future, however, this will not be someone else’s problem. It will be firmly the problem of tomorrow’s trans- lational leaders, and a high priority at that. 8 Advances in Biology Model Systems. The history of science is replete with success- ful use of models. From early astronomy to quantum physics to understanding DNA structure, employing these systems to understand and predict physical phenomenon was and continues to be essential in science. In modern translational research, models provide experimental templates for making observations and testing hypotheses in the laboratory, an essential role given the complexity of biological systems and the ethical limits associated with clinical studies involving humans [137–145]. Each of the many models employed in biological and medical research has its own strengths, weaknesses, and caveats; thus it is important not to overgeneralize and reach conclusions that are too broad [146]. However, it is also important to critically examine these systems, since so much of what comes next in translational research depends on them. A particularly illustrative example that highlights both the value and the problems with models is the widespread adoption and use of in vitro cell cultures in biomedical research over the past several decades. Cells grown in the laboratory are advantageous in many respects since they enable a wide variety of molecular and mechanistic stud- ies, are readily available, mimic biological phenomena, are inexpensive to obtain and maintain, and can be manipulated using molecular biology techniques to facilitate both basic and applied research. Cultured cell lines are particularly useful for mechanistic studies of individual molecules and specific biological pro- cesses. For example, they were essential in understanding the signaling mechanism and information flow that transduces external stimuli into events in the cell nucleus, such as altered mRNA transcription or DNA synthesis. In the laboratory, a model-centric, reductionist approach uncovered a remark- able stochastic cascade of events and elucidated the function of key proteins, how they are activated and inactivated, how they are regulated, and how they interact with each other. Moreover, study of cell types exhibiting varied and contradictory behaviors in response to external stimuli was useful in teasing out subtleties in molecular mechanisms. This basic information, detached from any useful application or medical intervention, represents human scientific inquiry at its finest—curiosity, discovery, hypothesis generation and testing, and ultimately new knowledge. There are no complaints here. The problem with cell culture models manifests itself at the second stage of inquiry, after the initial experiments in the laboratory are complete, when one asks more questions— how do these models relate to biological phenomenon on a larger scale, at the tissue, organ, organism, or disease level? What aspects are relevant to the system being modeled, often the patient, and which are not? Which findings represent true biological knowledge about how a molecule or process functions in nature? Alternatively, which findings are not real but are due to cells growing in an abnormal environment, plastic flasks, and thus mostly irrelevant to real-world biology and to the patient? Because an event can occur in an artificial culture system does not mean that it is important or that it occurs naturally. So, what is the wheat and what is the chaff? Here the translational system breaks down in an impor- tant and some would argue deleterious way—the virtuous cycle deconstructs, but more ominously, can mislead. An old joke often told by university professors on the first day of class is “Half of what you are going to learn is either wrong or woefully incomplete. The problem is that I do not know which 50% that is.” When used to model a larger biological phenomenon, beyond a focused molecular event, in isolation, the same goes for cell lines studied in the laboratory. Notably, cultured cell models fit well into a silo-based research enterprise. This is both good and bad. On the one hand investigators never need to leave the laboratory to initiate and perform experiments, analyze data, publish papers, or advance a career—the messy business of traversing different scientific and medical disciplines is a nonissue. Inside the laboratory, the basic science-discovery aspect of the virtuous cycle hums along. On the other hand, though, the productive business of integrating multiple perspectives to understand models in their true context often does not occur—a major sin of omission. However, the problem is worse yet. Anyone working with cultured cells quickly learns it is possible to manipulate experimental conditions to gener- ate varied, even contradictory results vis-à-vis a particular molecule or phenomenon, by changing the growth condi- tions or by selectively focusing on one particular cell line from the hundreds that are available. Inside the laboratory this is not problematic and is in fact helpful. Cells with different and opposing behaviors are scientifically useful since investigators can examine mechanistic events from multiple angles, irrespective of the relevance to the real world. But the applied science phase becomes even more difficult now due to this explosion of new information [147, 148]. Which of the myriad publications and data sets on a given topic are correct and worth pursuing? Which of the studies from academia and from early preclinical studies in industry are based on an accurate cell line model? Which findings are relevant to disease in patients? Nobody knows for certain. If the biological work using in vitro cultures over the past 50 years had focused only on the basic science aspect, fundamental knowledge as the sole aim, then concerns about the validity of the data produced would be minimal; new biological and mechanistic knowledge would be sufficient unto itself. However, this is not the case. Investigators have and continue to employ cultured cells as ostensibly accurate models of physiology and disease, true representations of pathobiology. They are used for drug screening to assess the effects of potential therapeutic compounds on normal and tumor cells; they are employed to advance basic science studies of physiology, to learn how and why a process occurs; and, they are utilized to identify new drug targets based on differences in expression patterns in normal and diseased cells. Advances in Biology 9 Aha…the model proves my hypothesis… the moon does not exist! Modelers of the moon The sky’s the delimit Do not fit hypothesis Figure 3: Models. Cultured cell lines as research models have both upsides and downsides. If the cultured cell models are wrong then the whole enterprise collapses. The virtuous cycle does not just slow down or stop, what occurs is more troubling—the virtuous cycle spins furiously but misleads relentlessly. Some, most, or all the applied science that comes next is based on faulty premises, as shown in a tongue-in-cheek cartoon in Figure 3. A recent article by Gillet and colleagues examined this issue in detail, reviewing the relevance of cultured cells as representations of cancer [149]. The authors could point to several scientific and clinical successes based on use of in vitro lines; however, their overall conclusion was that the limitations of the models are real and substantial, and thus they argued for development of new, more reliable, and accurate systems. Other investigators remain supportive of current cell line models, noting, for example, that genetic and epigenetic changes often mimic what is seen in primary tumors in patients, indicating the lines are accurate at the DNA level [150, 151]. Additionally, there are examples where cultured cell lines have indeed been useful as early-stage screening reagents, testing for therapies against single gene perturba- tions (as opposed to pathways) as one example [152]. Finally, other investigators rightly argue that new and improved cell line models show promise in mitigating some of the current deficiencies, for example, using three-dimensional culture systems, or performing drug screening with larger sets of lines to incorporate the full scope of heterogeneity seen in patients [153]. Certainly, the issues involving proper integration of cell line models in biomedical research are complex, and sim- plistic, overarching conclusions do not properly recognize the challenges involved or the state of the field at a given time in history. Moreover, it is important to keep in mind that no strategy is perfect; investigators working to under- stand human biology and disease need to start somewhere. Nonetheless, many strident critics are not forgiving—they say use of these models in isolation, in laboratory silos, has been largely unhelpful, confounding a generation of investigators in the fight against human diseases, particularly with respect to discovering efficacious therapeutic agents. One must wonder if the perceived problem with cell lines would have developed to such an extent if biomedical research were populated with multidisciplinary teams rather than silos. Would the clinician in the group have immediately and critically questioned the relevance of a system meant to mimic a disease process for drug screening purposes? Would the gold standard, the patient or data derived from the patient, be involved at the outset of a project rather than years later after extensive funds were spent on basic research and clinical trials only to find the model was misleading? More importantly, will the biomedical research enterprise more fully integrate and synthesize the information being generated by new genetically engineered mouse models arriving on the scene today? There are several hopeful signs suggesting that this will happen. Development of new resources for comparative pathology to assess similarities and differences between mouse models and humans is promising. Additionally, refinement of methods for tissue banking and creation of sources of patient and murine organs are becoming increasingly useful for integrating laboratory findings with patients and diseases. Encouragingly, the value of several different mouse models is already evident [154– 156]. As a specific example, if the insulin timeline in Figure 2 were extended to today, one would see additional successes based on use of the ob/ob and other mouse models to better understand metabolism, appetite, and obesity [157–175]. Data Reproducibility. A more recently recognized challenge for translational research is a lack of reproducibility of a sur- prisingly large percentage of basic science results generated in academic and commercial laboratories [176–183]. At one level, nonreproducibility and lack of scalability of novel research findings is expected and is an important part of the scientific process; risk-taking, daring established scientific and medical dogma, and contrarian thinking are the lifeblood of the enterprise, leading inevitably to some false leads, incorrect notions, and failures nestled amongst the successes and legitimate leaps forward [184]. Everyone in science understands that many new developments, irrespec- tive of their initial promise, will not succeed when tested on 10 Advances in Biology a larger scale or when placed under more rigorous scrutiny. And this is fine—a raucous, bubbling, risk-taking scientific ecosystem is a good thing, and failure is to be expected when difficult tasks are undertaken. Yet, the high level of irreproducibility of laboratory discoveries is troubling [185]. Moreover, many of these studies were not simply early stage provocative findings but were ostensibly more advanced and certain results. The expla- nation for this nonreproducibility is speculative and there may be many elements involved. However, since successful translation obviously depends upon the accuracy of these early studies, the community is wise to be concerned with and examine this newly recognized problem in detail [186]. Distributed Power. A hallmark underlying almost all of the wonderful advances in science from the Renaissance forward is researchers pursuing their curiosity and interests in an investigator-initiated fashion—free to think, conjecture, experiment, publish, and commercialize, even when their ideas are contrarian, in fact, especially when their ideas are contrarian. That is not to say that there is not a role for big science or big business, there is. The National Aeronautics and Space Association in the US, the International Human Genome Project, and Apple Inc. are all good examples, to name just a few. But even here, the underlying science and technology on which these organizations are built, the real creative leaps, are typically produced by individuals working on their own or in small teams, not in large top-down assemblies. Today, most institutions, especially in academia, are effective in establishing structures to support investigator- initiated basic research efforts, producing a wide array of small laboratories. These “Mom and Pop shops” operate in an open and free environment with a laissez-faire philosophy towards science. If you can fund it, you can do it. The researchers pursue their creative ideas and work in whatever fashion they choose. In some ways, one can consider them to be “academic entrepreneurs,” quintessential small business stewards of a sort. In contrast, institutions are generally not as good in supporting the applied science phase of translation, due in part to the silo and cultural issues described above, as well as a tendency to assert control at this stage, often in a negative way, whether it is an academic center, business concern, or government entity. Specific manifestations include top- down control of licensing and project direction, arbitrary restrictions on involvement of investigators in commercial- ization, poorly conceived academic incentive structures that reward basic science achievements (academic publications) over applied science successes (allowed patents or license agreements), and an over-focus on short-term institutional goals rather than fostering the long-term unbridled creativity and ingenuity of investigators. Like the internal cultural restraints on applied science and commercialization that exist in academia—that it is someone else’s problem—institutions frequently displace or minimize the role of creators in the translational process based on external rules and regulations. But is this wise? Given the complexities, risk, and difficulties of translating knowledge into public benefit, perhaps it should be the investigators who are central decision-makers guiding this second stage of translation, the applied phase. They are the ones who discovered or invented the “something new.” They are the ones who will walk through walls to make things happen when given a chance, encouraged, and not encumbered by artificial cultural limitations or institutional policy. They are the ones who will take risks that nobody else will consider. They are the ones who will go full steam ahead when other scientists, technology transfer offices, corporate leaders, investors, and business folks all consider success unlikely and their ideas maybe even a little daft. And they are the ones who are ideally positioned to integrate the basic science and applied science silos, short-term and long-term. Their role in the process is essential, yet they are often only minimally involved in translation. It is not that the inventors and discovers need to do everything hands-on—they do not need to govern or micro- manage every project or commercial spinoff. What they do need to do, however, is direct the overall effort and strategy. They need to survey the laboratory, commercial, and healthcare landscape and assess what needs to be done with their finding, committing to making things happen for the benefit of themselves, their organization, and society. They are the key holders of the creative juice and technical know- how, the intellectual drivers of the inquiry and its potential applications, and should be highly involved in the process, not relegated to the sidelines. Looking ahead, it likely will be beneficial to more fully empower the creators—the discoverers and inventors. To enable this change, however, institutional power will need to be distributed and dispersed, from administrators and managers to the creative agents. Unfortunately, such a trans- fer of power is antithetical to most university, government, and corporate leaders, whose goal is usually to amass and then preserve power at all costs, including accepting a loss of translational efficiency to maintain control. Society will need to select its next generation of transla- tional leaders wisely. Much depends on getting this (them) right. Mission. In addition to distributing power to an institution’s discovers and inventors, another area ripe for innovation is for an individual-centric mission in place of centralized one. Today, the undertaking of most institutions or their substructures, a department in a university or a division within a pharmaceutical company, is typically centered on a specific discipline or product—The Department of Molecular Biology, or Stem Cell Therapies, Inc. This is fine, of course, and a necessary division of labor in many organizations. And certainly from a historical perspective such focus made sense for efficiency as the agencies of society were simply trying to promote a decent standard of living for its members; there was little chance for pondering business practices and experimenting with new methods; conditions were too harsh. However, these societal developments, occurring over several centuries, also created extensive sets of dogmatic rules and ingrained practices that sometimes retard today’s Advances in Biology 11 translational efforts and often go unquestioned and unana- lyzed. Society now has more freedom to assess methodolo- gies, which is especially important in translational research where progress is often slowed by orthodoxy. An alternative to the classic organizational-centric mis- sion is an individual-centric one. Instead of an expectation of coalescence around a central focus area or product, the goal of the institution would be of a different sort, to embrace and enable the entirety of creative abilities and instincts of investigators. Rather than researchers working only on one scientific discipline, task, or product, while at the same time subjugating other creative ideas or pursing them just as part-time, outside hobbies, an inefficient use of creative brainpower, a future mission statement of a translational organization might be: Support investigators in being maximally creative and productive over their vocational life, embrac- ing the pursuit of all talents and interests. The statement emphasizes overall human potential rather than a single goal or single research area, loosening restrictive remnants and counteracting the silos and cultures that discourage progress. The emphasis shifts from what the institution needs and wants to what the individual needs and wants. In parallel with breaking down silos and distribut- ing power to investigators, an individual-centric mission would go another step further by encouraging pursuit of a multiplicity of ideas and interests, including across a broad range of topics and disciplines, presuming investigators will continually explore new career directions and ambitions. The hyperfocused approach of the past, “You are an X and you will only pursue Y-type studies,” will be deemphasized. Instead, an individual-centric mission would support the undertaking of many creative projects, of very different sorts, with the overarching goal that every idea, insight, passion, and potential innovation in the minds of an organization’s workforce is tested and evaluated, with nothing left on the shelf. One sees this sort of arrangement at a modest level in some organizations today; however, increasingly radical structures that embrace maximizing investigator creativity as a core mission is an area ripe for innovation in the academic, government, and private sectors. Certainly, great progress emanates from those who spend their lives working on a single topic. But this myopia can be bad, too, and science is replete with examples of fundamental advances generated by newcomers to a field, by outsiders who cross into new fields to view problems with a unique perspective, old problems seen with fresh eyes. The public and patients may benefit greatly in the future by such an evolution in institutional mission focus, in ways that are unpredicted and unexpected. Clinical Research. A major impediment to translational medicine that deserves brief mention is the laboratory-clinic interface, a challenging physical and cultural dichotomy that is notoriously difficult to traverse—a unique incarnation of the silo problem. In the medical research arena, it is common to hear investigators on both sides of the divide decry the difficulties working across this boundary. The sins of omission here are numerous and disheartening. An organization that was specifically designed to bridge the laboratory-clinic gap is the intramural program of the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, Maryland. Recognizing that interaction at this interface was crucially important to progress and that proximity matters in this regard, the NIH constructed a unique medical research hos- pital in the 1950s to integrate science and medicine, localizing the laboratories literally across the hall from patient rooms. To advance translational goals, clinical scientists who could navigate both the laboratory and clinic were recruited—one person with two perspectives, generating unique insights into the basic pathophysiology of disease as well as associated medical interventions, as much a bedside-to-bench strategy than the usual process of starting in the laboratory and moving towards the patient [187]. The outcome of the NIH strategy was quite amazing, including new chemotherapeutic and immune system-based treatments of malignancies, advances in surgical and medical management of cardiac diseases, studies on insulin and metabolic disorders, long-term efforts to describe the natural history of rare illnesses, and a deeper understanding of the pathogenesis of HIV and AIDS, with development of an assay to monitor the blood supply and protect the public [188]. Perhaps as important as the scientific and medical accom- plishments of the NIH program was the training of young physician-scientists and formation of a career path for them, producing a cadre of distinguished investigators who went on to establish and populate many academic research centers in the US and worldwide, accomplishing much and in turn training the next generation of clinical scientists [189]. The lesson exemplified by the NIH Clinical Center is that surmounting barriers in translational research, in this case translational medicine, does not happen automatically nor easily; rather, it takes vision, courage, and a sustained com- mitment [190]. In the 1950s there was significant resistance to the idea of a government-sponsored research hospital and the success of the endeavor was not assured. Yet the pioneers persisted, did the experiment, and won the day. Bureaucracy. Everyone who has dealt with a large organi- zation understands the pitfalls of bureaucracy. Oftentimes, it becomes an on-going butt of jokes, or an eye-rolling acknowledgement amongst workers of the seemingly endless problems created by rules, regulations, disparate offices, and paperwork. Many people who work for or interact with bureaucracies become resigned to their destructive inefficiency, engender- ing a Stockholm syndrome-like effect where the unacceptable becomes acceptable and the intolerable tolerable. Of course, there is a terrible price to be paid for this state of affairs; progress is slowed dramatically, initiative is discouraged (too difficult, too risky), and responsibility is nowhere to be seen (problems are someone else’s fault). For translational research, bureaucracy is not just another hurdle to overcome, but often a death knell that suffocates on- going projects or discourages work from being started in the first place. The inherent multidisciplinary, multidepartment 12 Advances in Biology nature of translation exposes the process to onerous bureau- cracies and subbureaucracies, large and small, amplifying the problem greatly. It is difficult to put metrics on the damage that bureaucracies cause in this space, especially the “might have been” successes that do not occur. But anecdotally, many in the translational and clinical research fields would rate the effect of bureaucracy as somewhere between catastrophic and ultracatastrophic. When bureaucracy slows translation of new knowledge into a nonclinical product, a biological widget of one sort or another, this is bad. But when bureaucracy slows, stops, or prevents translation of life-saving drugs or medical devices to patients and the public this is more than bad, it is wholly unacceptable. Or at least one would think so. Yet bureaucracies live on happily today and continue to do great damage to translational research, with no end in sight. This is mystifying. Bureaucracies develop and expand naturally as an orga- nization grows in order to meet administrative burdens. Obviously, this is necessary and absence of such structure would lead to chaos and dysfunction. But bureaucracies grow independent of need, and much like weeds in a garden, become unruly and destructive. It is likely that the successful organizations of tomorrow will address the problem as a serious matter if for no other reason than to stay compet- itive. Actively designing procedures to monitor and elimi- nate dysfunctional bureaucracy wherever it exists, becoming hypervigilant on the issue, and continually scanning an organization for such inefficiencies will become essential. One simple design strategy to mitigate the difficulty is the “adult-in-the-room” concept. As virtually everyone who has suffered through one sort of bureaucratic nightmare or another can attest, attempting to coordinate multiple administrative offices and administrators, each with separate procedures and all with an interest in maintaining their power base is exasperating and discouraging. Whereas distributed power for investigators is a good thing, distributed power for administrators is not. Translational science is difficult in the best of circumstance; add these concerns to the mix and productivity plummets. This is not a small problem. In contrast, the translational experience is very different when there is a single person involved with the knowledge and administrative power to make rapid and informed decisions—an adult-in-the-room. Here, agonizing weeks- and months-long administrative arguments and power dis- putes dissipate, decisions are made in a timely fashion, and the focus is on the legitimate scientific and medical challenges, not on artificial administrative ones. It is a night and day difference. Tomorrow’s leaders need to ask and answer two key ques- tions as they design their new organizations and departments. When and where will bureaucratic inefficiency appear? And in all such situations, who will be the designated adult- in-the-room? Although this solution may appear näıve or oversimplistic, many translational researchers in the trenches would argue that it is not and should be “institutional design principle #1” moving forward. Selection of Investigators. Issues around the process of select- ing and promoting young investigators applies to every organization, academic and commercial, large and small, but is particularly acute for those that include translational research in their portfolio—this step must be done correctly due to the inherently challenging nature of the undertaking; all of the best minds are needed here. There are two matters with which to be concerned— restrictive entry of young investigators and perpetuation of like-minded thinking. The typical path to success in today’s biomedical research system is for a student to join a productive laboratory with a prestigious mentor, be successful in their studies, follow the usual conventions in terms of general attitudes and research approach, and become part of an elite junior class favored to win one of the scant number of high-level jobs available in academia or industry. The young candidate is then chosen for an assistant professorship at a university or group leader in a company and given a relatively large start-up package of salary support, equipment, and other resources. Certainly, this is one successful method for producing young investigators who will go on to do great things. However, science, medicine, and society are likely paying an enormous price for this insular system. Access to the jobs that permit independent thinking (professorships, group leaders in industry) is limited to a small minority of young investigators, at a career stage where it is difficult if not impossible to accurately predict success, and with a heavy bias towards investigators who think like their mentors. Most young people are shut out of the process, relegated to becoming support staff of one sort or another, and their chance to lead studies into new territories, pursue novel or unpopular lines of investigation, or actively push back against the dogma of the day are minimal or nonexistent— this is not good for science, translational or other. Moreover, the traditional method of career advancement inculcates investigators in the problems described earlier in this paper, for example, perpetuating silos and the myriad other cultural practices, overt and covert, that trouble efforts to move science from the laboratory to the public. The good old boys network and now the good old girls network are quite effective at maintaining the usual order, but this occurs at great scientific and societal expense. Instead of an army of bright young investigators bursting onto the scene as Young Turks hell-bent on upsetting the status quo and knocking the powers-that-be off their pedestals, in other words pursuing science the way it should be done, the system produces early-stage investigators who are bright and accomplished to be sure, but also “members of the machine,” focused on pleasing mentors, patrons, and tenure committees—a recipe for group-think success but radical- think disaster. Certainly, one should not decry or complain about the accomplishments of those who succeed in science and medicine today, and a democratic outcome is not what is needed, let the cream rise to the top. Rather, it is the limited opportunities and me-too thinking in place of a true meritocracy that are unhealthy and unwise. Better to let all the bright youngsters in, let them compete, and then let Advances in Biology 13 the marketplace of ideas, discoveries, inventions, and prod- ucts determine the true visionaries and innovators. Future leaders might consider a different sort of strategy for developing the next generation of talent. Rather than recruiting a single investigator with a large start-up package; five to ten of them could be hired from a broad range of sites, with a high degree of diversity, including less traditional thinkers. Each of them could be provided with a partial salary, a small research budget, a supportive environment of colleagues and collaborators, and access to a common laboratory for pilot experiments. And then let them develop their ideas, apply for funding, establish industry or academic collaborations, or start their own small companies. In other words, instead of selecting a few key individuals who come from the right places with the right attitudes, let as many young investigators into the system as possible, give them creative independence, and then let the process flow. The young scientist who is bursting at the seams to get started, who says, “All I need is a corner in the lab and a chance to test my ideas” is a good bet for success. Give more of them a chance, get out of their way, and see what happens. What is especially disturbing about today’s selection system is that the majority of young investigators, with their potentially earth-shattering ideas, are shut out at a time when they are most creative, most ambitious, most likely to take risks and push into novel scientific territories, and most able to exist on a small salary—they do not need much, just access and a chance to succeed. Individual institutions and society at large stand to benefit greatly by putting as many creative young folks as possible, as soon as possible, in charge of shaping and pushing science and medicine forward. Today, there are some limited efforts to address this problem, the NIH pathway to independence award as one example (see Appendix). However, these programs offer only minimal changes. Looking ahead, no single problem is more important to address than access to the machine. Let all the young investigators in so they can test their ideas and determine the real winners—a true meritocracy. 5. All Together Now Science does not know its debt to imagination. (Ralph Waldo Emerson) Imagine a young Ph.D. investigator in the future who is hoping to study the biochemical basis of cell growth and then translate her findings into new therapeutics. Will she be given a chance? Will she be allowed to enter the system? Will she be free to paint “outside the lines,” to experiment with radical ideas that differ from mainstream dogma? Will she have access to a multidisciplinary team of collaborators whom she can access easily and frequently? Will she be able to integrate her model system with patients and the clinic? Will she be properly rewarded for participating in the difficult task of translational biology and medicine? Will she be in a supportive and helpful environment that encourages her to pursue new ideas and actively identifies and eliminates bureaucratic inefficiency wherever it exists? These are the questions that matter for the next generation of investigators and for the next generation of leaders. Certainly, an efficient translational research system that turns scientific discoveries and knowledge into useful prod- ucts, procedures, and drugs for society is laudable and uni- versally supported. Everyone wants more cures, new devices, increased manufacturing, and economic development—a cornucopia of good things—and these desires generate some urgency to make the system more efficient. But, the urgency of today may not be enough. Looking ahead, the need to improve the translational ecosystem may be more than just about allowing patients to live a little longer or a little better, or producing the latest widget that drives a quarterly earnings statement, as important as those aims are. The need may become extremely urgent. Circling back to the two historically successful transla- tional efforts of the 20th century mentioned at the beginning of the paper, antibiotics and insulin, one sees there is still much work to do in the 21st century. There has been an explosion in the incidence of diabetes and related obesity, inducing significant morbidity and mortality in populations worldwide, risking a dramatic increase in healthcare costs. In addition, we live in a dangerous microbial world, with threats that are both natural and man-made. The 20th century was one of remarkable progress in treating infectious diseases [27, 28, 188, 191]. But the prospects for the next century are less clear due to emerging antibiotic resistance. Already, there are cracks in the antibiotic wall and the future here is murky [192]. Perhaps the last century was an anomaly. Perhaps we are destined to return to destructive plagues and epidemics of chronic diseases—or perhaps not—maybe a maximally efficient and productive translational research system will keep society one-step ahead in the game. Appendix Relevant Websites Challenges http://www.theglobeandmail.com/globe-debate/why- science-has-to-promise-profits/article4210388/ http://pipeline.corante.com/archives/2014/01/10/a new look at clinical attrition.php http://blogs.wsj.com/health/2011/05/20/sanofis-zer- houni-on-translational-research-no-simple-solution/ http://pipeline.corante.com/archives/2011/05/24/may- be it really is that hard.php http://www.nature.com/news/specials/translational- research/index.html—editorial http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.view/article- No/37346/title/Opinion–Translational-Research-in- Crisis/. New Ideas and Methods http://news.sciencemag.org/2011/10/tech-entrepre- neur-offers-grants-indie-science 14 Advances in Biology http://blogs.nature.com/news/2011/07/national aca- demies panel ponde.html http://www.fastercures.org/ http://c-path.org/ http://www.cancerresearch.org/ http://www.nih.gov/science/amp/index.htm. Definitions http://www.cancer.gov/researchandfunding/trwg /TRWG-definition-and-TR-continuum http://translationalhealthscience.com/index.html http://www.tcrn.unsw.edu.au/translational-research- definitions http://ctri.ucsd.edu/about/Pages/AboutTranslational- Research.aspx. Diabetes and Insulin http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/info/diabetes /discoveryofinsulin.php http://www.med.uni-giessen.de/itr/history/inshist. html http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel prizes/medicine /laureates/1923/ http://link.library.utoronto.ca/insulin/ http://www.littletree.com.au/dna.htm. Biotechnology and the Translational Milieu http://www.gene.com/media/press-releases/4160/1978- -09-06/first-successful-laboratory-production-o http://www.europabio.org/what-biotechnology http://www.oecd.org/sti/biotech/keybiotechnology- indicators.htm http://news.yahoo.com/dont-federal-science-granted- op-ed-171126844.html http://careers.bmj.com/careers/advice/view-article. html?id=2607 http://bits.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/05/17/grove-backs- an-engineers-approach-to-medicine/?ref=technology http://www.researchamerica.org/ http://www.eutranslationalmedicine.org/ http://www.tcrn.unsw.edu.au/about-tcrn http://www.ctsi.pitt.edu/ http://www.actscience.org/ http://ctsi.psu.edu/ http://www.economist.com/node/1476653 http://www.newsweek.com/why-dont-more-medi- cal-discoveries-become-cures-72475 http://healthland.time.com/2013/03/21/cancer-dream- teams-road-to-a-cure/ http://healthland.time.com/2013/04/01/the-conspira- cy-to-end-cancer/ http://www.ncats.nih.gov/research/cts/cts.html http://www.ctsacentral.org http://www.nlm.nih.gov/ep/pathway.html http://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/funding/training/redbook /phdk99r00.htm http://sciencecareers.sciencemag.org/career magazine /previous issues/articles/2013 05 28/caredit.a1300113 http://sciencecareers.sciencemag.org/career magazine /previous issues/articles/2012 12 14/caredit.a1200136. Transistor http://www.pbs.org/transistor/album1/ http://business.time.com/2012/03/21/how-bell-labs- invented-the-world-we-live-in-today/. Integration of Models http://emice.nci.nih.gov/ http://www.nih.gov/science/models/ http://www.journals.elsevier.com/journal-of-compar- ative-pathology/ http://www.vetmed.ucdavis.edu/comppath/index.html http://pathology.ucsd.edu/comparative pathology. htm http://www.springer.com/medicine/pathology/jour- nal/580 http://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/mcp/Comparative Pathology/ http://ccr.cancer.gov/resources/training/applications /programInformation.asp http://nih-cbstp.nci.nih.gov/index.asp http://biospecimens.cancer.gov/default.asp http://www.chtn.nci.nih.gov/ http://www.isber.org/ http://www.abrn.net/. Reproducibility of Scientific Results http://www.nature.com/news/psychologists-strike-a- blow-for-reproducibility-1.14232 http://www.genengnews.com/gen-news-highlights /report-underscores-need-for-standards-in-life-sci- ence-research/81249236/ http://www.sfgate.com/health/article/Bad-science- that-slips-by-can-be-tough-to-refute-4978760.php Advances in Biology 15 http://www.nature.com/news/announcement-re- ducing-our-irreproducibility-1.12852 http://news.sciencemag.org/policy/2014/01/nih- takes-steps-improve-reproducibility http://www.nytimes.com/2014/01/21/science/new- truths-that-only-one-can-see.html? r=0. NIH Clinical Center http://clinicalcenter.nih.gov/about/news/annivers60. shtml http://history.nih.gov/exhibits/beacon/. Disclaimer Michael R. 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work_bupgjwuvpbgytixb4scfwd5ide	----	<30373134BFCFB7E15FB9CCB1B9C7D02034302D312E687770> 【연구논문】 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환: 󰡔레버넌트: 죽음에서 돌아온 자󰡕에 나타난 백인 남성성*1) 정진만 (영남대학교) 1. 서론 알레한드로 곤잘레스 이냐리투(Alejandro González Iñárritu)가 감독하 고 레오나르도 디카프리오(Leonardo DiCaprio)가 주연한 󰡔레버넌트: 죽 음에서 돌아온 자󰡕(The Revenant)(2015)는 아카데미 시상식에서 무려 12 개 부문에 수상후보로 올라 3개 부문(감독상, 남우주연상, 촬 상)의 상을 받고 골든 글로브에서도 3개 부문(감독상, 남우주연상, 드라마 부문 작품 상) 수상을 함으로써, 이 화가 중들에게 상당한 향력과 호소력을 지녔음을 잘 보여준다. 이 화는 19세기 전반기에 두했던 ‘마운틴 맨’(mountain man) 계층에 관한 이야기이다. ‘마운틴 맨’은 서부개척사에 서 19세기 전반기에 극서부(Far West) 지방이나 변경지 에서 주로 비버 등을 사냥하여 그 가죽을 수집해 유럽의 시장에 유통시켰던 사냥꾼들, 덫 사냥꾼들(trappers), 상인들(traders)을 통칭하는 것으로서, 이들은 특정한 * 이 연구는 2016년도 남 학교 학술연구조성비에 의한 것임. 264 정진만 모피회사에 고용되기도 하고 자유롭게 홀로 활동하기도 했다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕 는 마운틴 맨 가운데 실존인물인 휴 글래스(Hugh Glass)(레오나르도 디 카프리오 분)를 주인공으로 하여 그가 서부에서 자연과 맞서며 동료 마운 틴 맨들과 북미원주민들과 맺는 관계들을 상화한다. 우선 이 화는 얼 핏 보기에 원주민들의 입장에 서며 이들을 호의적인 태도로 그린 것처럼 보인다. 이 화는 아리카라족(the Arikaras) 추장의 입을 통해 서구 유럽 인들이 북미 륙에 와서 원주민들의 땅과 동물들을 훔쳐간 역사를 고발 한다. 그리고 이 화는 백인들에게 여전히 따듯하게 하는 원주민을 그 린다. 예컨 , 글래스가 동료들에게 버림을 받아 한 겨울 깊은 산 속에서 사경을 헤맬 때, 포니족(the Pawnees)으로 합류하려던 한 원주민은 그의 깊은 상처를 치료해주며 험한 겨울 폭풍에 동사할 수 있었던 그를 살려 준다. 이 화는 그런 따듯한 마음씨를 가진 원주민을 백인들이 잔인하게 하는 것으로 그림으로써, 당시 원주민들에 한 백인들의 행동을 고발 하며 반성하는 듯하다. 글래스를 구해주었던 이 원주민은 이후 프랑스 군 인들에게 붙잡혀 죽어 나뭇가지에 그의 시신이 매달리게 된다. 그리고 프 랑스군들은 그의 목에 “야만인”이라는 팻말을 걸어놓는 “야만적인” 행동 을 한다. 아이러니컬한 이런 재현을 고려하면 분명 이 화가 원주민의 온정을 따듯하게 그리며 원주민에게 행했던 서구유럽 백인들의 폭력을 비판하는 측면이 있음을 부인할 수 없다. 그러나 이 화는 이런 비판적인 재현에도 불구하고 그 긍정적인 측면 을 반감시키는 또 다른 측면을 역시 제시하고 있다. 이 화는 여전히 인 종의 차원에서 백인중심적이고 젠더의 차원에서 남성우월주의적이며 이것 이 절묘하게 국가주의(nationalism)와 연루되어 드러난다.1) 이런 점에서 1) 비록 이 화가 멕시코 출신의 감독에 의해 제작되었지만 화제작에 감을 준 원 작인 󰡔레버넌트: 복수의 소설󰡕(The Revenant: A Novel of Revenge)(2002)이 미국 행정부의 한 고위관료, 즉 미국 통상 표부(USTR)의 부 표이면서 동시에 국제무 역기구(WTO)의 미국 사 던 마이클 푼케(Michael Punke)에 의해 씌여졌다는 점 도 고려되어야 한다. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 265 할리우드의 메이저 스튜디오 가운데 하나인 20세기 폭스에서 제작된 이 화는 미국의 건국이후 문학과 예술, 그리고 다양한 담론 속에서 형성되 어온 인종주의, 남성중심주의, 국가주의의 또 다른 변형이라는 한계를 드 러내고 있다. 더불어 이런 이데올로기를 드러내는 화가 21세기에도 미 국의 할리우드에서 제작되며 커다란 인기를 끌어 아카데미와 골든 글로 브에서 다수의 상을 받았다는 점은 시사하는 바가 크다고 할 수 있다. 이 런 맥락에서, 이 글은 화 󰡔레버넌트󰡕가 글래스를 초인적 인물로 형상화 하면서 국가적, 인종적, 젠더적 정치학에 기초한 강한 백인 남성성의 신 화를 구축해 관객들로 하여금 동일시의 욕망을 부추기는 사례임을 밝히 려 한다. 이 화는 마운틴 맨을 신화적으로 구성해내는 상미학에 내재 한 미국의 정체성 구축과 욕망에 해 역사-문화적 맥락에서 다시 숙고하 고 심문해볼 기회를 마련한다. 2. 인종의 차원에서 드러나는 백인과 원주민의 복합적 관계 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 웅인 글래스는 친원주민적인 백인으로 재현된다. 글래 스는 포니족 원주민 여성과 결혼했으며, 그녀와의 사이에 혼혈인 아들 호 크(Hawk)(포레스트 굿럭 분)가 있다. 글래스는 그런 아들을 다독여주는 인자하고 “헌신적인”(devoted)(Lane, “Wilder West”) 아버지로 그려진다. 글래스의 태도는 혼혈인에 한 다른 백인들의 홀 , 비하의 태도와 조 된다. 특히 존 피츠제럴드(John Fitzgerald)(톰 하디 분)는 글래스의 아들 을 “잡종놈”(half-breed)이라 멸시하고 그의 어머니가 속한 포니족을 야만 인이라 비하한다. 이 화가 글래스와 다른 백인들이 원주민을 하는 태 도에 차이가 나도록 그리는 것은 다음과 같은 부분에서도 드러난다. 글래 스가 곰의 공격을 받아 치명적 상처를 입고 동료 마운틴 맨들로부터 버 림받아 위기에 처했을 때 수족(the Sioux)의 침입을 받아 남쪽으로 포니 266 정진만 족과 합류하기 위해 가던 한 원주민이 그를 도와주고, 그 가운데 글래스 는 원주민과 친 해진다. 내리는 눈을 혀로 받아먹으려는 이 원주민의 장 난스런 몸짓을 글래스도 따라하면서 서로 친 감을 갖는다. 반면, 다른 프랑스 백인들은 그 원주민을 붙잡아 죽이고, ‘야만인’(savages)이라 적힌 팻말을 목에 걸어놓는다. 원주민들을 ‘야만인’으로 통칭해 비하하고, 피츠 제럴드가 글래스의 아들을 ‘잡종놈’(half-breed)이라고 부르며 비하하는 것은 로빈 톨마크 라코프(Robin Tolmach Lakoff)에 따르면 타자를 비하 하는 용어로 통칭해 부르며 전형화시키는 예인데, 이것은 타자를 “온전히 인간으로 진지하게 간주할 가치가 없고 왜소하고, 약하고, 어린아이와 같 은”(as smaller, weaker and childlike—not worth taking seriously as fully human) 상으로 느끼게 한다(130). 즉, 이런 명명행위는 ‘우월 감’(superiority)과 ‘통제’(control), 지배의식을 고취시키는 효과가 있다. 여기에서 피츠제럴드 같은 미국 마운틴 맨이나 프랑스 군인들의 태도를 보면 당시 백인들이 유럽인이든 미국인이든 모두 똑같이 백인 우월주의 에 기초해 원주민들을 야만인으로 멸시하는 인종주의적 태도를 가졌음이 잘 드러난다. 19세기 전반기 당시 일종의 ‘사이-경계 지역’(in-between space)인 변 방지역이나 극서부 지방에서는 이 화의 주인공인 글래스 같은 마운틴 맨들이나 그 변경지 에 살던 백인들이 원주민 여성들과 결혼하는 사례 들이 많이 있었는데, 당시 서부를 여행하면서 이런 현상을 목격하는 백인 들은 열등한 인종인 원주민들이 백인들의 피를 오염시키고 퇴보하게 만 든다고 여기며 변경지 혼혈인들을 탐탁지 않은 시선으로 바라보았다. 극서부지방인 애스토리아(Astoria) 탐험사를 서술하고 본인 스스로 1832 년에 오클라호마 변경지역을 여행했던 워싱턴 어빙(Washington Irving)은 미국의 백인들과 원주민 같은 유색인들의 인종교혼(miscegenation)을 부 정적으로 그리면서, 인종간의 경계가 흐려지는 것에 한 동시 인의 불 안과 공포의 정서를 잘 반 한 작가들 가운데 하나이다. 어빙은 비록 마 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 267 운틴 맨들을 국가주의적 관점에서 모방할만한 인물들로 찬사하긴 하면서 도2) 이들의 인종교혼이 상서롭지 못한 결과에 이르게 될 것이라는 자신 의 염려를 표현하는데 주저하지 않는다. 󰡔애스토리아󰡕(Astoria)(1836)에서 어빙은 마운틴 맨들과 원주민들 사이의 관계로 혼혈인의 수가 증가하는 것에 해 다음과 같이 표명한다. 지질학에서 말하는 새로운 형성, 즉 문명인과 야만인의 후손으로서의 “부스러기”와 “암설”이 뒤섞인 새로운 잡종이 여기[극서부 지방]에서 생 길지 모른다. 망해서 거의 소멸된 부족들의 잔재, 떠돌아다니는 사냥꾼들 과 덫사냥꾼들, 스페인과 미국의 변방에서 온 무법자들, 모든 계급과 나 라들에서 온 모험가들과 무법자들의 후손들이 매년 문명사회의 품에서 황야로 쏟아져 나왔다. (211) Here [in the wilderness of the far West] may spring up new and mongrel races, like new formations in geology, the amalgamation of the “debris” and “abrasions” of former races, civilized and savage; the remains of broken and almost extinguished tribes; the descendants of wandering hunters and trappers; of fugitives from the Spanish and American frontiers; of adventurers and desperadoes of every class and country, yearly ejected from the bosom of society into the wilderness. 여기에서 “암설”(abrasion)은 “깨지고 망가진 잔재들”(the remains of anything broken down or destroyed)(OED)을 의미하는 “부스러 기”(debris)와 같은 의미로 쓰 다. “부스러기”는 또한 “버려진 어떤 것, 폐기물”(something discarded: rubbish)(The Merriam-Webster’s)을 뜻하 기도 한다. 어빙의 시선에서 혼혈인은 쓸모없는 폐기물과 같은 존재이다. “새로운 잡종들”(new and mongrel races)(211)은 “망해서 거의 소멸된 2) 어빙의 여행서사는 19세기 전반기 당시 유럽(특히 국)의 모피 사냥꾼들을 귀족 같은 사람들로 채색하는 반면 미국의 마운틴 맨들을 자국의 민주주의와 결부시키는 국가주의적 성격을 드러낸다(정진만 215-24). 268 정진만 부족들”(211)과 백인 사냥꾼들 혹은 무법자들간의 달갑지 않은 접촉에 의 해 생긴 퇴화된 자손들이다. 바꿔 말해서, 어빙은 혼혈인을 황야에서 사 라져가는 인종(원주민)과 문명세계 출신의 무법자들간의 인종교혼의 결과 로 생긴 폐기물같이 비천한 존재로 간주하는 것이다. 어빙이 백인/유색인 의 인종교혼에 두려움과 불안을 표명하는 것은 󰡔보네빌 위의 모험󰡕 (The Adventures of Captain Bonneville)(1837)에서도 반복된다(372-73). 어빙에 따르면, 인종교혼의 자손들은 원주민 선조들의 야만성을 그 로 가지고 태어난다. 그리고 원주민의 이런 야만적 성격은 백인이 지닌 문명 의 속성을 지워버린다. 그가 보기에 혼혈인은 국가의 문명을 더 진척시키 는데 아무 도움이 안되는 부정적이고 심지어 끔찍하기까지 한 상일 뿐 이다. 어빙의 경우에서 보듯이 19세기 전반기 당시 원주민과 혼혈인에 한 백인들의 일반적인 태도가 지극히 부정적이었음에도 불구하고, 󰡔레버넌트󰡕 의 주인공인 글래스는 원주민과 혼혈인에 한 태도가 남다르다. 글래스 는 사경을 헤매는 힘든 순간에 직면할 때마다 죽은 원주민 아내와 혼혈 아들의 환 을 본다. 한 평자가 이 화를 “아버지와 아들, 남편과 아내 사이의 사랑을 위해 겪는 고난에 관한 이야기”(a tale about suffering for the sake of love—the love between father and son, husband and wife)(Díaz-Gilbert)라고 바라보듯이, 이 화는 아내와 아들을 잊지 못하 는 글래스의 사랑을 그리는 듯하다. 특히 글래스는 혼혈 자식에 한 애 틋한 부정을 가진 것으로 그려진다. 앤소니 레인(Anthony Lane)은 “전체 플롯이 호크에 한 글래스의 부성적 애착에 의해 그 추진력을 얻는 다”(the whole plot is impelled by Glass’s paternal loyalty to Hawk)(“Wilder West”)고 까지 언급한다. 상상을 초월하는 글래스의 생 존력의 원천이 죽은 아들에 한 복수심임을 보여주는 것은 호크에 한 그의 무한한 사랑을 시사한다. 정지혜에 따르면, “(보통 인디언이라 불리 던) 아메리카 원주민 사회와 정을 나눈 휴 글래스와 그 피가 섞인 그의 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 269 아들이 (그렇지 않은 경우도 있지만) 순혈주의를 고집하는 백인 ‘마초’ 남성들에게는 곱게 보일 리 없다. 그런 의미에서 휴 글래스는 전형적인 백인 남성 무리와는 다르다. 휴 글래스와 호크는 미국인도 아메리카 원주 민도 아닌 경계 밖의 사람들이다”(｢운명을 거슬러 살아남아라｣). 여기에 서 필자는 글래스가 다른 미국의 백인들과 달리 친원주민적 존재로 그려 진다는 정지혜의 주장에는 동의하지만, 그가 미국 백인 남성 무리들과 달 리 다른 원주민들이나 혼혈인들처럼 “경계 밖의 사람들”이라는 해석은 재고의 여지가 있다고 본다. 왜냐하면 글래스는 여타의 다른 백인들처럼 여전히 경계 안에 위치해 있기 때문이다. 이 화는 인종적 경계를 초월 해서 가족중심적인 맥락에서 인간적인 사랑을 그린 것으로만 이해될 수 없다. 왜냐하면 여기엔 인종의 문제와 젠더의 문제가 복합적으로 연루되 어 있기 때문이다. 한 편으로 화에서 글래스가 혼혈아들을 끔찍이 아끼는 것으로 그려지 는 것은 마이클 킴멜(Michael Kimmel)의 표현을 빌면 19세기 인종차별 에 한 현 미국 “백인들의 속죄의 추구”(a search for redemption for white guilt)(66)로 해석될 수도 있다. 그런데 다른 한 편으로, 19세기 마 운틴 맨들을 소재로 한 이 화에서 우리가 잊어선 안되는 것은 당시 현 실에선 글래스와 같은 마운틴 맨들이 ‘인디언 파이터’(Indian fighter) 다 는 점이다. 실제로 글래스도 1823년 아리카라족 전사들과 싸우다 다리에 총상을 입었고, 1833년경의 그의 죽음도 이 부족과의 전쟁에서 비롯된 것이다. 그리고 1823년 6월 2일에 아리카라족과의 전쟁에서 사망한 존 S. 가드너(John S. Gardner)의 부모에게 글래스가 보낸 편지에 따르면, 그는 원주민들을 지극히 기만적인 야만인들로 여겼다. 이 야만인들은 아주 기만적입니다. 우리는 그들과 친구로서 교역을 했지만, 폭우와 천둥이 지난 다음 날이 밝기 전에 그들은 우리에게 들이 닥쳤고 많은 이들이 다쳤습니다. 제 자신도 다리에 총상을 입었고요. 우 270 정진만 리의 고용주인 애슐리는 그 배신자들이 마땅히 처벌받을 때까지 이 지역 에 머무를 것입니다. (“Hugh Glass Letter”) The savages are greatly treacherous. We traded with them as friends but after a great storm of rain and thunder they came at us before light and many were hurt. I myself was shot in the leg. Master Ashley is bound to stay in these parts till the traitors are rightly punished. 이런 진술은 글래스도 원주민에 한 경계와 증오가 상당했음을 보여 준다. 역사적으로 볼 때, 글래스 같은 마운틴 맨 계층은 19세기 전반기에 서 부의 원주민들의 토에 들어가 비버를 사냥하여 모피를 수집해 가져와 유럽시장에 판매하게 된다. 화의 첫 장면은 마운틴 맨들이 비버 등의 가죽을 벗겨 모피 가죽을 처리하는 과정을 잠시 보여주고 있다. 이런 모 피채집 과정에서 마운틴 맨들이 서부 진출의 활로를 개척하게 되고 이 개척이 향후 미국 백인들이 서부로 이민을 가 정착하는 시발점이 된다 (Aneja and Rothman). 이런 점 때문에 원주민들의 입장에서 보면 마운 틴 맨들이 서부로 진출한 것은 재앙 같은 결과를 가져오게 된다. 따라서 마운틴 맨들은 서부에서 그곳의 원주민들과 빈번한 전쟁을 치르게 되고, 󰡔레버넌트󰡕도 아리카라족과 백인 마운틴 맨들과의 전쟁을 통해 이런 점 들을 현실감 있게 보여주긴 한다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 첫 장면은 모피회사에 고 용된 백인 마운틴 맨들과 아리카라족간의 전쟁으로 시작된다. 이 화는 역사적으로 백인이 원주민의 토로 침범해 들어가 이들의 자원을 앗아 가며 백인의 토팽창을 위한 루트를 개척하던 시기를 배경으로 한다. 화에서 모피사냥의 팀을 이끌었던 자는 앤드류 헨리(Andrew Henry)(돔 널 글리슨 분)이다. 그는 납 광산을 소유하고 있던 윌리엄 헨리 애슐리 (William Henry Ashley)와 함께 향후 서부 팽창의 중요한 루트를 개척 한다. 글래스의 서신에서 언급된 애슐리는 민병 위로 명성을 얻기 시 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 271 작해서 준장의 위치까지 승진한 인물이며, 1812년 전쟁이 끝나 더 이상 탄약의 수요가 크지 않자 탄약제조사업을 접고 세인트루이스로 가서 토 지투기자가 된다. 그리고 그는 1822년 자신의 친구이자 동료인 앤드류 헨리와 함께 모피무역에 뛰어들어 크게 성공한다. 애슐리 장군은 󰡔관보와 중광고자󰡕(Gazette and Public Advertiser)를 통해 1822년 2월에 미주 리 강 상류로 올라갈 모험심 가득한 젊은이들을 모집하는 광고를 낸다 (Goetzmann 105). 이 광고를 보고 모인 마운틴 맨들과 애슐리는 미주리 강 상류로 거슬러 올라가 옐로스톤 강 입구에 사냥의 근거지를 마련한다. 이 모험은 로키산맥을 가로질러가는 새로운 길을 개척하게 되고, 향후 이 길을 통해 미국의 모험가들과 이민자들이 태평양까지 가로질러 갈 수 있 게 된다(Goetzmann 105). 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 주인공이자 마운틴 맨인 글래스 와 더불어 전설적인 마운틴 맨 제더다이어 스미스(Jedediah Smith)가 가 담했던 탐험, 즉 1822년부터 1825년에 걸친 애슐리의 극서부지방 탐험은 애슐리가 과거에 졌던 빚을 모두 청산하고 부자가 되게 해주었을 뿐 아 니라 로키산맥 중앙부 전체가 향후 모피무역을 위해 길이 열리게 되는 계기를 마련한다(Goetzmann 124). 그가 거느린 마운틴 맨들이 사우스 패스(the South Path)를 개척한 것은 이후 서부로 백인들이 거 이주할 수 있는 중요한 통로를 마련한 것으로서, 마운틴 맨이 서부로의 팽창에 기여한 바를 단적으로 잘 보여준다. 윌리엄 H. 고츠만(William H. Goetzmann)에 따르면, “무엇보다 중요한 점으로서, 애슐리와 그의 휘하 의 남자들은 모피무역업자들 뿐만 아니라 미국의 이민자들을 위해 서부 로 향하는 길을 알려주기 시작했다”(Of prime importance, Ashley and his men had begun to point the way West for American emigrants as well as fur traders)(129). 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에서 글래스를 버리고 도망가는 피 츠제럴드와 함께 있던 어린 마운틴 맨 제임스 브리저(James Bridger)(윌 폴터 분)는 1824년 그레이트 솔트레이크(the Great Salt Lake)의 발견자 로 알려져 있고, 서부에 한 지도를 제작하기도 했다(Goetzmann 272 정진만 119-20). 고츠만에 따르면, “1824년은 서부탐험사, 특히 로키산맥 중앙부 탐험사에 가장 중요한 해 는데”(1824 had been a most important year in the history of Western exploration, especially in the Central Rockies)(120), 브리저도 서부개척에 커다란 기여를 한 마운틴 맨들 가운 데 한 사람이다. 이처럼 역사적으로 볼 때 글래스 같은 마운틴 맨들은 서부로의 토팽 창에 지 한 공헌을 했으며, 실제로 글래스는 애슐리 장군의 1823년 탐 험팀(그와 앤드류 헨리가 주도)에 합류하여 활동한 마운틴 맨이자 인디언 파이터 다. 이들은 서부를 단순히 황야, 원주민들의 은신처, 방 한 사냥 감이 있는 곳으로만 보지 않고 백인들이 이주해서 살아가고 번창할 장소 로 보았던 것이다. 이들의 서부 개척은 삶의 터전을 위협받는 원주민들과 의 잦은 전쟁을 유발한다. 예컨 애슐리 장군이 거느리는 마운틴 맨들은 1823년 6월 큰 시련을 겪게 된다. 이들이 사냥에서 거두어들인 모피를 싣고 가던 보트가 미주리 강 상류에서 아리카라족의 공격을 받게 된다. 이 전쟁으로 80여명의 마운틴 맨들 가운데 덫사냥꾼 14명이 목숨을 잃는 다(Goetzmann 111, 138). 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 첫 장면에서 마운틴 맨들과 아 리카라족들간에 벌어지는 전쟁은 바로 이 역사적 사건을 재현한 것이다. 애슐리가 거느린 마운틴 맨들 중에 인디언 파이터로서 걸출한 인물들이 바로 이 화의 주인공인 글래스를 비롯해 제더다이어 스미스, 윌리엄 서 블렛(William Sublette), 제임스 클라이맨(James Clyman), 에드워드 로스 (Edward Ross) 등이다. 이제까지 살펴본 로 미국의 마운틴 맨들이 서부에서 비버를 사냥해 모피를 가져가는 상황에서 원주민들과 마찰이 빚어졌고, 양측에 많은 인 명 손실이 있었다. 그런데, 주목할 만한 점은 이 화의 웅인 글래스는 원주민과의 관계에서 너무 낭만적으로 그려진다는 점이다. 여기에서 우리 는 당시의 역사적 현실 속에서 글래스 같은 미국의 마운틴 맨들이 원주 민과 결혼관계를 유지한 데에는 경제적이고 실리적인 이유가 컸다는 점 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 273 을 간과해선 안된다. 당시 마운틴 맨들은 종종 “인디언 여자의 남자 들”(squaw men)이라 불리면서 백인/원주민의 경계를 흐려놓았는데,3) 글 래스와 같은 마운틴 맨들이 원주민 여성과 결혼하는 동기는 낭만적인 것 이 아니라, 원주민 아내가 속한 부족과 경제적 교류와 거래가 용이하고 그 부족 사냥터에서 안전하게 사냥할 수 있다는 장점 때문이었다 (Swagerty 164). 그러나 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에선 이런 현실들이 그려지지 않는다. 고츠만은 애슐리 장군이 “앤드류 잭슨적인 상업적 벤처를 하는 원형적 인물”(the archetype of Jacksonian merchant adventurer)(109)이었음을 지적한다. 애슐리 장군과 그의 휘하에 있던 마운틴 맨들은 문명세계를 혐 오하며 자유를 찾아 숲으로 가는 낭만적인 웅들이라기보다 돈을 벌겠 다는 세속적 야심으로 가득 차 서부로 뛰어들었던 “미래의 자본가들”(an expectant capitalist)(Goetzmann 107)이다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에서 피츠제럴드는 돈을 벌어서 땅을 사고 싶어 한다. 역사적으로 볼 때 이것은 비단 “돈에 만 목적이 있는”(mercenary)(Truitt) 피츠제럴드 한 개인의 물질적 탐욕이 아니라 당시 마운틴 맨들이 극서부 지방에서 목숨을 건 모험을 한 가장 큰 동기가 된다. 피츠제럴드 같은 마운틴 맨들의 시선에서 서부의 황야는 한 두 해만 고생을 하면 큰돈을 벌 수 있는 장소로 여겨졌던 것이다. 여 기에서 주목할 만한 것은 글래스와 그의 아내, 그리고 그의 혼혈아들을 통해 백인/원주민의 관계가 친화적이고 낭만적으로 처리되는 바로 그 지 점에서 백인/원주민의 경계짓기가 역설적으로 더욱 강화된다는 점이다. 글래스는 사경을 헤매면서 그의 죽은 아내를 떠올린다. 이것은 원주민 아 내를 애틋하게 그리며 잊지 못하는 백인 남편의 사랑으로 이해될 수도 있는데, 여기에서 글래스의 아내는 자끄 라깡(Jacques Lacan)의 용어를 빌면 ‘물’(the Thing)과 같다. 라깡의 논의에서 ‘물’은 주체가 다시 찾을 3) 마운틴 맨들이 백인 아닌 유색인과 결혼한 것에 한 통계적 연구로는 윌리엄 R. 스와거티(William R. Swagerty)를 참조하라(164-70). 그에 따르면, 초혼인 마운틴 맨 312명 가운데 106명, 즉 38.9퍼센트가 원주민 여성과 인종교혼을 했다. 274 정진만 수 있다고 상정하는 욕망의 상이지만 궁극적으로 주체는 그것이 상실 된 상이라는 것만 확인할 뿐이다(52). 이 ‘물’은 글래스의 욕망의 상 이자 원인이지만 궁극적으로 그가 다가갈 수 없는 불가능한 상인 것이 다. 화 속에서 이 상은 글래스의 아내의 죽은 몸의 가슴에서 나오는 한 마리의 새로 형상화되며, 이 새가 하늘로 날아가는 것은 그녀의 혼 이 떠나가는 것을 상징하면서 동시에 글래스의 아내가 접근 불가능한 상으로 변화하는 것을 의미한다. 달리 말해서, 이 상은 이 화에서 아 름다우면서도 불가능한 욕망의 상으로 승화된다. 현실의 상을 실재계 의 불가능한 상으로서의 ‘물’의 지위로 고양시키는 라깡적 의미의 ‘승 화’(sublimation)(112)가 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에서 미학적으로 작동하고, 이런 미학 적 승화는 ‘거리’(distance)를 전제로 한다. 이 ‘승화’는 주체와 그 승화된 상간의 건널 수 없는 거리를 분명한 전제조건으로 하는 욕망의 처리방 식인 것이다. 이것은 백인/원주민 사이에 여전히 건너기 어려운 심연으로 서의 인종간의 경계가 있다는 것을 무의식적으로나 의식적으로 재현한다. 글래스의 죽은 아들 호크도 그의 아내와 비슷한 방식으로 재현된다. 호크 도 화 속에서 피츠제럴드에게 살해되어 ‘불가능한 상’이 된다. 아버 지인 글래스는 죽은 아들의 입에 풀 같은 것을 넣어주어 그의 죽음을 애 도한다. 사랑했던 사람을 상실한 것에 한 반응으로서의 이 애도는 주체 와 상간의 닿을 수 없는 거리를 전제로 한다. 비록 이냐리투 감독이 상미학적으로 아름답게 처리하긴 했지만 이 화가 백인/원주민 사이의 닿을 수 없는 거리를 드러내는 것은 원주민이 “사라져가는 사람들”(Vanishing People)이라는 19세기 당시의 관습적 지 혜(conventional wisdom)를 잘 반 하고 있다. 당시 미국의 백인들은 원 주민들이 백인들과의 경쟁에서 이길 수 없으며 북미 륙에서 분명 운명 적으로 사라질 것이라고 생각했다. 19세기의 이런 인식이 여전히 21세기 의 이 화에서 무의식적으로 반 되는 듯하다. 인종간의 건널 수 없는 경계를 긋고 그 경계를 다시 공고히 한다는 점에서 이 화는 비록 주인 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 275 공 글래스가 친원주민적인 백인으로 그려지긴 하지만 여전히 인종주의를 극복하지 못하는 한계를 지닌다. 3. 젠더의 차원에서 부각되는 미국 백인남성의 강인함 󰡔레버넌트󰡕는 이제까지 살펴보았듯이 인종의 정치학이 내재된 화인 데, 이 화는 여기에서 그치지 않고 마운틴 맨 신화를 통해 미국 백인의 남성다움의 이상과 욕망을 구현함으로써 젠더 정치학과 분리될 수 없는 문화적 형성물이 된다. 이 화에서 가장 눈에 띄는 백미는 글래스가 회 색 곰과 사투를 벌이는 장면이다. 깊은 상처를 입고 곰의 희생물이 되는 이 끔찍한 장면은 남성 주체성의 위기를 재현한다. 다시 말해서, 이 외상 적 장면은 심리적으로 남성이 남근을 상실해 육체적 차원 뿐 아니라 심 리적 차원에서 나약하게 되고 여성화될 수 있는 사태를 상연하면서 프로 이트의 용어로 일종의 ‘거세불안’(castration anxiety)에 호소한다. 그러면 서 이 화는 글래스의 불사신 같은 생존이라는 역사적 사실을 끌어들여 남성의 힘(male potency)을 재확인하여 남근이 사라지지 않는다는 믿음 (혹은 판타지)을 구축하는 계기로 만든다. 스테파니 재커렉(Stephanie Zacharek)이 󰡔타임󰡕(TIME)의 화평에서 표현한 로 디카프리오가 연기 하는 글래스는 “고결하고 불굴의 정신을 가진 남자”(a man of principles and fortitude)로서 사자의 세계에서 다시 돌아올 수 있을 정도의 남성적 강인함을 지닌다. 이냐리투 감독은 데이비드 피어(David Fear)와의 인터 뷰에서 자신이 이 화를 만들 때 “회복되는 힘과 인내를 들여다본다는 생각에 관심이 있었다”(I was interested in the idea of looking into resilience, endurance)(Fear 24)고 말한다. 이것은 감독이 이 화를 제작 하면서 남성적 강인함이라는 믿음과 가치를 표현하고 싶었음을 보여준다. 디아즈-길버트(Díaz-Gilbert)가 이 화를 “상상할 수 없을 정도의 고난을 276 정진만 인내하는 그[글래스]의 흔들리지 않는 의지”(his unrelenting will to endure unimaginable suffering)(“The Decline”)를 그린 화라고 호평하 는 데에서 드러나듯이, 감독의 바람 로 이 화는 미국 백인 남성이 나 약해지는 것에 한 불안, 혹은 거세불안을 해소하고 남성적 강인함을 진 리처럼 속화하려는 욕망을 반 하고 동시에 강화시킨다. 화에서처럼 실제로 글래스는 1823년 현재의 사우스다코타(South Dakota) 미주리 강 지류인 그랜드 리버(the Grand River)의 한 분기점에 서 곰의 공격을 받는다. 이곳은 포트 카이와(Fort Kiowa)에서 북서쪽으 로 200마일(약 320 킬로미터) 떨어진 곳이다. 그는 이 곰과의 사투에서 큰 부상을 당하지만 죽지 않고 카이와 요새까지 약 6주에 걸쳐 살아 돌 아오는 초인적 생존력을 보여준다. 이 화 속에서 글래스가 동사하지 않 기 위해 방금 죽은 말의 내장을 꺼내고 그 안에 들어가 밤을 지내는 장 면은 가히 상상을 초월하며 관객의 시선을 끌기에 충분하다. 즉, 화 속 에서 글래스는 놀라운 방식으로 죽지 않고 버티는 불사조 같은 존재로 신화화된다. "죽음에서 돌아온 자"(revenant)라는 화 제목이 이를 잘 말 해준다. 글래스가 곰과 싸워 살아남은 이야기는 당시에 유명해서, 19세기 전반 기 여행서사에서도 그 언급을 찾아볼 수 있다. 1832년에 어빙은 현재의 오클라호마 지역을 여행했는데, 이 때 전해들은 이야기를 자신의 󰡔 초원 에서의 여행󰡕(A Tour on the Prairies)(1835)에서 역시 소개한다. 그에 따르면, 글래스는 회색곰의 습격을 받은 후 “작은 물고기와 개구리를 먹 으며 스스로에 의지해 견뎌냈는데”(he supported himself by small fish and frogs)(159), 이것은 글래스의 자력의존(self-dependence)을 잘 보여 주는 부분이다. 이 이야기는 당시 어빙과 함께 동행하며 여행한 헨리 리 비트 엘스워스(Henry Leavitt Ellsworth)의 󰡔 초원에서의 워싱턴 어빙, 혹은 1832년 남서부지방 여행서사)(Washington Irving on the Prairie: Or a Narrative of a Tour of the Southwest in the Year 1832)에서 훨 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 277 씬 더 상세하게 언급된다. 엘스워스는 글래스에 한 이야기를 빈 위 (Captain Bean)로부터 전해 들었다고 하는데, 󰡔레버넌트󰡕와 다소 차이가 있는 엘스워스의 이 이야기에 따르면, 미주리 강 상류에서 애슐리 장군의 사냥꾼들의 총에 맞은 회색 곰이 공격해 글래스는 큰 부상을 당한다. 피 츠제럴드와 브리저는 글래스가 회복될 때까지 있어주거나, 아니면 그가 죽으면 잘 매장해줄 임무를 띠고 200달러를 받기로 한 후 남게 된다. 그 런데 그를 돌보아 주기로 약속했던 자들이 그를 버리고 가버린다. 글래스 를 버린 자들은 후에 팀에 합류해, 글래스의 죽음에 해 미리 꾸며낸 거 짓말을 한다. 그리고 이 둘은 보상금을 나눠 가진다. 이후 글래스가 생존 해 돌아온 것이 알려지자 그를 버린 피츠제럴드와 브리저는 달아난다. 글래스에 관한 이야기를 소개했던 어빙에 따르면, 곰의 거 한 발톱은 “인간의 머릿가죽보다도 명예로운 전리품”(a trophy more honorable than a human scalp)(A Tour 158)이다. 화에서 브리저는 글래스를 공 격했던 곰의 발톱을 갖고 만지작거린다. 이에 피츠제럴드가 그 발톱을 가 진다고 글래스처럼 되는 것은 아니라고 브리저에게 말하고, 브리저도 그 발톱이 자신을 위한 것이 아니라고 인정하며 글래스의 가방에 그 발톱을 넣어준다. 여기에서 곰의 발톱은 거 한 힘을 가진 자연의 동물과 맞닥뜨 려 그 상을 정복하고 지배한 자의 힘과 용기를 보여주는 수렵 기념물 이며 징표이다. 이 곰의 발톱은 프로이트의 용어를 빌면 ‘연물’(fetish)이 되어 거 한 자연적 상의 힘에 한 숭배를 나타내며 동시에 그 거 한 힘이 이 발톱을 소유한 자에게 옮겨진다는 환상을 가져다주는 사물이 다. 글래스의 경우처럼 거 한 곰과 싸워 견뎌낸 것은 생존자의 힘, 용기 를 입증하면서, 더불어 심리적으로 결코 남근이 거세되지 않는다는 믿음 과 판타지를 유지시켜줄 수 있다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에서 글래스의 역을 담당한 디카프리오는 이 화가 “자연 을 정복하고 극복해 살아남는다는 생각”(the idea of conquering and surviving nature)(Alexander에서 재인용)을 표현한다고 언급한다. 이처럼 278 정진만 화에서 글래스는 자연 속의 거 하고 끔찍한 힘을 상징하는 곰과 싸워 그 상을 극복한 자이기 때문에 임마누엘 칸트(Immanuel Kant)의 ‘역학 적 숭고’(the dynamical sublime)를 연상시킨다. 칸트에 따르면, 숭고의 감정을 느끼게 하는 발단은 자연적 상이지만 궁극적으로 숭고한 것은 그런 자연적 상을 극복하는 인간의 정신이다(121). 거 한 자연적 상 은 결국 그런 자연이 인간에게 가하는 물리적 제약을 극복하고 자유를 경험하는 인간 존재의 거 함을 확인시켜주는 매개에 불과하다. 이것은 앞에서 언급한 프로이트적 ‘연물’이 인간에게 가져다주는 환상과 유사한 맥락에서 이해될 수 있다. 남성 주체의 나르시시즘적이고 소위 “숭고한” 남성의 강인함을 체화하기에 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 글래스는 화에서 웅으로 그려지는 것이고, 어빙과 엘스워스의 여행서사에서 알 수 있듯이 이미 이 화 이전에 서부의 탐험사에서 인구에 회자되는 것이기도 하다. 여기에 서 우리는 글래스의 웅담에 한 여러 서사들이 공통적으로 강조하는 것이 바로 자연(적 상)에 굴복당하지 않고 그것을 극복하거나 정복하는 이 사냥꾼의 숭고한 ‘남성적 강인함’(masculine robustness), ‘자력의존’의 덕목임에 주목해야 한다. 이 서사들은 그것이 책이든 화의 형태든 독자 와 관객들로 하여금 이 웅을 동일시할만한 상으로 만든다. 여기에서 자력의존, 남성적 강인함에 한 찬미를 하는 문화적 형성물 들은 이런 미덕들이 국가정체성에까지 연결되어 미국이 곧 자력의존과 남성적 강인함을 가진 나라라는 이미지를 형성하는데 기여한다. 글래스의 자력의존은 앞에서 언급했듯이 “그가 작은 물고기와 개구리를 먹으며 스 스로에 의지해 견뎌냈다”(A Tour 159)는 어빙의 서술에서 잘 드러난다. 어빙과 동시 인 19세기 전반기에는 자력의존에 한 강조가 크게 이루 어졌고, 이것의 표적인 예가 바로 랠프 왈도 에머슨(Ralph Waldo Emerson)이다. 에머슨은 ｢자력의존｣(“Self-Reliance”)에서 미국이 정치적 으로 뿐만 아니라 정신적으로나 문화적으로도 유럽으로부터 독립해야 할 필요성을 강조한다. 에머슨이 “자신의 내부에 존재하는 힘”(power which 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 279 resides in him)(95)을 개발하라고 촉구하거나 “자기 자신을 신뢰하 라”(Trust thyself)(95)고 동시 인들에게 요청하는 것은 유럽이라는 구세 계와 미국을 차별화하면서 정치-사회적으로나 문화적으로 독립하려는 미 국의 시 정신을 잘 반 해주고 또 강화한다. 또한 어빙의 동시 통령 인 앤드류 잭슨(Andrew Jackson)은 당시 미국 중들의 지지를 받으며 잭슨 민주주의 시 를 이끌었는데, 존 윌리엄 워드(John William Ward) 는 󰡔앤드류 잭슨: 시 의 상징󰡕(Andrew Jackson: Symbol for an Age)에 서 동시 인들이 잭슨 안에서 자신들의 이미지와 정신을 찾았다고 언급 한다(1). 이처럼 잭슨이 국민적 웅으로 추앙받은 데에는 그가 노동자계 층의 참정권을 확 시킨 수수한 서민출신의 통령이라는 점 이외에 변 경지 (노스캐롤라이나와 사우스캐롤라이나 경계의 미개척지)의 비천한 출신으로 제 로 교육도 받지 못한 상태에서 통령의 위치까지 오른 ‘자 수성가인’(self-made man)의 모델이 된 점, 독립전쟁의 시기에 포로로 잡 혔을 때 굴종적이지 않고 국군 장교의 부츠를 닦기를 거부해 머리와 손에 칼로 베이는 상처를 입은 점(Ward 183), 1차 세미놀 전쟁(the first Seminole War)(1817-1818)에서 인디언 파이터로서 크게 활약했던 점, 그리고 서부개척사에서 가장 거칠고 강력하게 인디언 이주정책을 추진해 당시 미국 백인들의 관점에서 ‘남성적 강인함’을 구현한 측면이 크다. 앞에서 언급했듯이, 에머슨과 잭슨이 강조하고 구현했던 덕목인 자력의 존과 남성적 강인함은 당시 마운틴 맨 계층이 잘 구현해 주었으며, 킴멜 의 표현을 빌면 마운틴 맨은 미국적 남성다움의 상징으로서의 ‘ 웅적 장 인’(the heroic artisan) 부류에 속한다. 그에 따르면, 이 웅적 장인은 “독립적이고”(independent), “고된 일을 두려워하지 않으며”(unafraid of hard work), “자력의존”(self-reliance)의 미덕을 가진다(16). 그런데, 여기에서 ‘독립적임’, ‘자력의존’ 같은 가치들은 국가주의적인 측면에서 이해되지 않으면 안된다. 미국이 유럽, 특히 국의 이민자들로 구성된 나라라는 점을 고려할 때, 그리고 미국인들이 자신들을 부모의 나 280 정진만 라인 유럽국가들과 차별화 하려했던 정치적, 문화적 상황 등을 고려할 때, 미국을 ‘독립적임’, ‘자력의존’과 연관짓는 것은 반드시 유럽, 혹은 국의 군주제와 미국의 민주주의를 차별화하려는 역사적 문맥에서 이해되 어야 한다. 미국은 국가를 형성한 시기부터 자신의 나라가 유럽, 국의 군주제, 귀족제와 다름을 강조하고, 지나치게 세련되고 여성화된 듯한 유 럽(혹은 국)의 문명과 다른 남성적 특성을 미국의 국가적 특징으로 부 여하고자 했던 것이다. 어빙이 17년간 유럽에서 거주하다 1832년에 귀국해 당시 미개척지 던 오클라호마 지역을 여행했을 때, 그는 자신의 모험 길을 동행하며 보 호해주는 미국 삼림경비원들(rangers)을 보며 서부에 한 자신의 생각을 다음과 같이 피력한다. 그들[삼림경비원들]은 부분 처음 탐험 길에 오르고 아주 건강하고 활력적이며 기 에 부풀은 젊은이들이었다. 나는 젊은 피가 흐르게 하는 곳으로서 이처럼 사냥감이 풍부하고 모험거리로 가득한 거친 숲의 생활 과 웅장한 산악지방보다 더 적절한 곳을 떠올릴 수 없다. 우리는 호사스 럽고 여자처럼 나약하게 키우려고 우리의 젊은이들을 유럽으로 보낸다. 내가 보기에, 초원으로의 이전의 여행이 우리의 정치제도와 가장 부합 하는 것으로서 사내다움, 단순 소박함, 자력의존을 훨씬 더 키울 수 있을 것 같다. (A Tour 55, 강조는 필자의 것) They were mostly young men, on their first expedition, in high health and vigor, and buoyant with anticipations; and I can conceive nothing more likely to set the youthful blood into a flow, than a wild wood life of the kind, and the range of a magnificent wilderness, abounding with game, and fruitful of adventure. We send our youth abroad to grow luxurious and effeminate in Europe; it appears to me, that a previous tour on the prairies would be more likely to produce manliness, simplicity, and self-dependence, most in unison with our political institutions. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 281 여기에서 “우리의 정치제도”는 당시의 시 정신으로서 앤드류 잭슨적 인 민주주의 정치제도를 일컬으며, 어빙은 이 미국적 민주주의를 유럽의 호사스럽고 여성화시키는 귀족중심주의와 조시키면서 미국의 남성다움, 자력의존과 연결짓는다. 어빙의 시선에서 이런 덕목이 가장 적절하게 꽃 필 수 있는 공간이 바로 미국의 자연으로서의 거친 서부이다. 이런 역사적 맥락에서, 강인한 남성성의 국가정체성을 구축하는데 당시 에 숲에 사는 남자(Backwoodsman), 사냥꾼, 마운틴 맨은 적절한 모델이 되어 남성다움, 강인함을 상징하게 된다. 예컨 글래스가 곰과 싸워 생 존한 무용담을 엘스워스에게 전해준 인물인 빈 위는 1832년에 어빙이 오클라호마 지역을 여행할 때 경호를 하던 삼림경비원들의 상관이었는데, 어빙은 그를 “숲에 사는 남자”(Woodsman), “최고의 사냥꾼”(a first-rate hunter)으로 묘사한다(A Tour 48). 어빙에 따르면, 그는 약 40세가량의 남자로서 “활력이 넘치고 활동적이다”(vigorous and active)(A Tour 48). 어빙, 그리고 빈 위와 함께 모험을 했던 “베테랑 사냥꾼”(a veteran huntsman)인 라이언(Ryan)은 비록 늙었지만 “억세고”(tough) “젊은 기 개”(youthful spirit)을 지닌 강인한 남자로 묘사된다(A Tour 48-49). 어 빙의 재현에서 알 수 있듯이, 마운틴 맨들은 ‘남성의 강인함’(masculine robustness)을 표하는 계층으로 전형화되며 찬미된다. 마운틴 맨들이 미 국의 정체성과 연결되는 사회-문화적 인식과 관련하여, 역사적으로 실제 마운틴 맨들도 자신들을 미국적인 것과 동일시했다. 마운틴 맨들이 서부 에서 국, 스페인 국적의 사냥꾼들과 조우하게 되어 마찰이 빚어지게 되 면서, 마운틴 맨들은 자신들의 이익을 국가나 정부의 이익과 동일시하게 된다(Goetzmann 108). 즉 마운틴 맨들은 국적이 다른 사냥꾼들과의 경 쟁관계 속에서 자신들의 상황을 미국이란 국가의 운명과 동일시했던 것 이다. 유럽(혹은 국)의 지나친 문명화에 따른 남성의 여성화에 한 반 급부로서, 즉 부정적인 방식으로 미국의 강인한 남성적 ‘독립성’, ‘자력 의존’을 강조하고자 미국의 시도가 다방면에서 진행되었고, 이런 국가주 282 정진만 의적인 태도가 미국의 마운틴 맨들에 한 당시의 재현뿐만 아니라 현 에도 그 흔적으로 남아있는 것이며, 그 한 예가 바로 이 글의 논의 상인 󰡔레버넌트󰡕이다.4) 유럽을 여성화시키고 미국을 그것의 부정으로서 남성화하면서 국가정 체성을 구축하는 일련의 국가주의적, 사회-문화적 시도의 기저에는 여성 화되는 것에 한 미국 백인남성의 심리적 불안과 공포가 존재한다. 문명 화된 현 사회에서 심리적으로 미국의 백인남성들은 여성화되는 것에 한 불안과 공포를 극복하고 남성성을 확인받고 싶은 욕망이 있는데, 이 화는 남성적 강인함을 명징하게 구현하는 마운틴 맨 글래스를 주인공 으로 내세워 이런 관객의 욕망을 충족시켜준다. 이 화는 각종 슈퍼맨을 화주인공으로 삼아 남성적 강인함에 한 욕망을 충족시켜주는 일련의 화들의 또 다른 반복이라 할 수 있다. 역사적으로 마운틴 맨 계층이 1820년 부터 1840년 까지 두하다 소멸했는데 19세기 후반기 서부의 카우보이들은 이 마운틴 맨 계층의 후예들이다. 현 의 보이 스카우트의 4) 이 화의 국가주의적 색채는 프랑스 국적의 군인들과 모피회사 소속 사냥꾼들의 도덕적 비열함을 부각시키는 데에서도 다른 방식으로 반복되고 있다. 이들은 아리 카라족 추장의 딸 포와카(Powaqa)를 유괴하여 강간하고, 한 원주민을 붙잡아 죽여 그의 목에 ‘야만인’이란 팻말을 걸어 놓는다. 이런 부정적인 묘사는 상 적으로 미 국 마운틴 맨들이 도덕적으로 우월함을 시사한다. 화에 따르면, 물론 미국의 마운 틴 맨 가운데 피츠제럴드같은 비열한 인물도 있지만, 그를 제외하고는 예컨 브리 저처럼 동료 마운틴 맨의 역경에 공감하고 도와주려는 인정 많은 인물도 있다. 화평 ｢레버넌트｣(“The Revenant”)에서 앤소니 레인은 브리저가 피츠제럴드보다 도 덕적으로 “더 전도유망한 인물”(a more promising character)이라고 평가한다. 그런 데 주목할 만한 것은 엘스워스의 서술에 따르면, 피츠제럴드와 브리저가 글래스와 함께 남겠다고 한 이유는 200달러의 보상금 때문이다. 엘스워스는 “탐욕이 강력한 동기이다”(Avarice is a strong motive)(54)라고 지적한다. 후에 글래스가 기적적으 로 생환하자 그를 “무정하게 다룬 악당들”(the reckless villians [sic])(57)은 달아나 버린다. 그러나 화에서 브리저는 글래스를 보살펴주려 했고, 그를 버리고 떠날 때 죄책감을 느끼며 보상금을 받길 거부하는 양심적인 인물로 그려진다. 그리고 화 속에는 리더십과 준법정신을 갖춘 “인정 많은 모피사냥꾼 지휘자”(goodhearted fur-trapper leader)(Truitt) 앤드류 헨리 소령도 있다. 프랑스인과 미국인의 차이나는 재현은 이 화가 분명 국가주의의 색채를 띠고 있음을 보여준다. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 283 전신은 사실 서부의 카우보이라기보다 그 이전의 마운틴 맨이다. 또한 현 의 수많은 화와 소설들, 그리고 각종 게임에 등장하는 거친 남성 웅들— 화의 몇 가지 예만 보더라도 근육질 배우 실베스터 스탤론 (Sylvester Stallone) 주연의 󰡔록키󰡕, 󰡔람보󰡕 시리즈, 아놀드 슈워제네거 (Arnold Schwarzenegger) 주연의 많은 화들, 󰡔슈퍼맨󰡕과 󰡔배트맨󰡕 시 리즈, 그리고 최근에 인기를 끌었던 󰡔어벤져스󰡕 시리즈 등에 등장하는 슈 퍼 웅들—의 문화적 원형은 바로 19세기 전반기의 글래스 같은 ‘마운틴 맨’인 것이다. 미국의 국가정체성을 남성적 강인함으로 채색하는 예술적 작업의 문제 와 관련하여, 우리는 현실 속에 존재했다는 아무런 근거가 없는 글래스의 혼혈아들을 화가 창조해내고 그를 미숙한 어린 아이나 나약한 여성처 럼 부정적으로 그리는 것에 주목할 필요가 있다. 화 속에 호크가 누워 눈물을 흘리며 흐느끼는 장면이 있다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕의 초반부에 아리카라족 의 공격을 받자 마운틴 맨들은 비버 가죽을 도중에 숨겨두고 수로가 아 닌 육로로 돌아가야 할 형국에 처해있다. 이때 피츠제럴드는 자신이 애써 모았던 비버 가죽을 가지고 가지 못하는 분풀이를 원주민과 결혼해 친화 관계에 있는 글래스와 그의 아들 호크에게 해댄다. 그는 글래스의 아내인 포니족 원주민과 그녀의 혼혈아를 비아냥 며 “야만인은 야만인일 뿐이 다”(savage is savage)라고 말한다. 특히 그는 호크를 “잡종 놈”(half-breed)이라고 부르며 비하한다. 이에 호크는 감정을 통제하지 못 하고 분노를 표출하려 하지만, 글래스는 그런 아들에게 백인들은 혼혈아 가 무슨 말을 하든 그 말을 듣는 것이 아니라 그 말을 하는 사람의 얼굴 피부색만 본다고 냉철히 말하며 그저 없는 존재처럼 행동하라고 혼을 낸 다. 그날 밤, 자신을 야만인으로 취급하는 피츠제럴드에 한 분노, 그리 고 그에 한 응을 하지 못하게 막았던 아버지에 한 서운함, 그리고 백인 중심의 세상에서 무시당하며 그림자처럼 살아야 하는 자신의 운명 에 한 서러움 등이 겹쳐 호크는 흐느껴 운다. 그렇게 우는 아들에게 글 284 정진만 래스는 “너는 내 아들이다”(You are my son)라고 말하며 달래고 다독여 준다. 이 장면은 물론 따듯한 부정을 표현하기도 하지만 다른 한 편으로 는 백인 남성의 강한 인내심과 원주민의 피가 섞인 혼혈인의 소위 여성 적인 나약함의 차이를 표현하기도 한다. 바꿔 말해서, 이 장면은 다음과 같은 위계적 립구조, 즉 백인/혼혈(혹은 원주민), 성숙한 남성/미숙한 아 이, 강한 남성성/나약한 여성성, 이성/감성(혹은 감정), 절제/통제 안됨 등 을 내비친다. 이 장면에서 우리는 혼혈인 호크를 여성화에 한 백인 남 성의 불안과 공포가 타 상에게 심리적으로 투사되어 형성된 재현 상이 라고 해석할 수 있다. 혼혈인 호크는 킴멜의 표현을 빌면 “백인의 남성다 움이 투사되고 작동되고 정의되는 스크린”(screens against which white manhood is projected, played out, and defined)으로 창조된 상이다 (66). 남성이 나약하게 되고 여성화된다는 것에 한 불안을 혼혈인을 여성 화시키는 투사 작용으로 해결하려는 근간에는 미국 백인들의 인종주의와 복합적으로 연루된 젠더 정치학이 존재한다. 윌리엄 스탠튼(William Stanton)에 따르면 19세기 미국의 저명한 인종학자 던 조사이어 C. 노 트(Josiah C. Nott)는 뮬라토와 같은 혼혈인들이 백인에 비해 지적으로 열등했을 뿐만 아니라 “덜 강건하다”(less hardy)고 여겼다(67). 바꿔 말 해서, 당시의 의사-과학(pseudo-science)은 혼혈인이 백인의 남성다움을 지니지 못한, 여성화된 존재라고 주장했으며, 이것은 당시에 진리처럼 받 아들여졌다. 문제는 혼혈인에 한 당시 미국 백인들의 심리적인 태도가 현재에도 󰡔레버넌트󰡕 같은 화에서 여전히 반복되고 있다는 점이다. 결 국 󰡔레버넌트󰡕는 유색인이나 혼혈인을 미국 백인남성의 강인함을 확인시 키는 상으로 활용(좀 더 정확히 말하면 ‘오용’)하는 젠더 정치학에 연 루된다는 비판으로부터 자유로울 수 없다. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 285 4. 결론 󰡔레버넌트󰡕는 드물게 서부로 팽창하기 시작하던 미국의 초기 개척시 의 마운틴 맨을 주인공으로 삼아 극서부지방의 장관을 묘사하고 그런 숭 고한 자연에 못지않게 숭고한 한 백인 남성의 인내와 불굴의 의지를 그 린 현 화이다. 이 화는 어찌 보면 포니족 여성과 백인 남성, 그리 고 그들 사이에 태어난 혼혈아와 백인 아버지의 애틋한 사랑과 상실을 그려낸다. 그리고 더불어 이 화는 서구유럽인들이 북미 륙에 진출하면 서 원주민들에게 자행한 죄악을 언급하고 재현해냄으로써 지난 역사의 식민주의적 과오를 심문하고 관객에게 아픈 과거에 한 반성의 기회를 제공하는 듯하다. 하지만 이 화는 죽은 아내에 한 간절한 그리움, 그 리고 죽은 아들을 위한 아버지의 복수의 모티프를 통해 백인/원주민의 관 계를 낭만적으로 채색하는 가운데, 원주민과 혼혈인을 퇴보한 상으로 바라보던 당시 미국 백인들의 인종주의를 드러내고, 서부로의 토팽창에 지 한 기여를 했고 인디언 파이터로 활약하며 금전적 이득만을 세속적 으로 추구하던 마운틴 맨들의 실체를 상당 부분 은폐하거나 뒤틀린 방식 으로 재현한다. 인종적 차원에서 이 화는 미국 백인과 원주민간의 건널 수 없는 깊은 심연을 미학적으로 그려놓을 뿐만 아니라, 원주민은 ‘사라 져가는 사람들’이라는 오래된 관념을 다시 한 번 재확인시킨다. 이 화 는 젠더의 차원에서는 마운틴 맨 글래스의 숭고한 남성적 강인함을 극 화시켜 ‘자력의존’의 덕목을 찬미하고 그것을 국가주의적인 차원으로까지 확 시킨다. 󰡔레버넌트󰡕에서 혼혈인을 미국 백인의 남성다움이 투사되는 일종의 스크린으로 활용하는 점을 고려하면, 젠더적 차원에서 미국 백인 남성성을 긍정하는 것이 인종주의, 국가주의와 분리될 수 없을 정도로 복 잡하게 뒤얽혀 시도되고 있음을 알 수 있다. 결국 죽음의 손아귀에서 벗 어나 초인적 인내를 보여주며 오디세우스처럼 귀환하는 한 마운틴 맨의 웅적 서사 󰡔레버넌트󰡕는 다른 한 편으로 인종과 젠더 정치학의 오래된 286 정진만 이데올로기에서 여전히 자유롭지 못한 채 미국 백인남성 우월주의라는 유령 혹은 망령을 또한 우리에게 데려오는 화라 할 수 있다. 의식적이 든 무의식적이든 남성우월주의에 기초해 남성적 강인함에 집착하는 것 이 국가적, 사회-문화적 차원에서 존재하는 한, 인종주의, 남성중심주의, 국가주의가 복합적으로 상호 공모하며 서로를 지지하고 강화시키는 이 런 부류의 화는 죽음의 세계에서 유령처럼 계속 우리에게 돌아올지 모른다. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 287 Works Cited 정지혜. ｢운명을 거슬러 살아남아라｣. 󰡔씨네21󰡕. 18 Jan. 2016. Retrieved on 26 June 2016. (http://www.cine21.com/news/view/?mag_id=82759) 정진만. ｢National Consciousness in Washington Irving’s Western Writings of the 1830s｣. 󰡔19세기 어권 문학󰡕 16.2 (2012): 211-32. Alexander, Bryan. “The Real ‘Revenant’: Who Was Hugh Glass?” USA TODAY. 6 Jan. 2016. Retrieved on 24 June 2016. (https://www. usatoday.com/story/life/movies/2016/01/06/who-was-real-hugh-glass-leo -dicaprio/78293022) Aneja, Arpita, and Lily Rothman. “The True History behind The Revenant.” TIME.COM. 25 Feb. 2016. Retrieved on 24 June 2016. (http://time.com/4226712/the-revenant-fur-trade-history) “Debris.” Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary. 11th ed. 2003. CD-ROM. “Debris.” Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. Oxford and New York: Oxford UP, 1999. Oxford English Dictionary Online. Web. 16 June. 2016. Díaz-Gilbert, Miriam. “The Decline of the Right, ‘The Revenant’.” Commonwealth. 20 May 2016. Retrieved on 27 June 2016. (https://www.commonwealmagazine.org/letters-decline-right) Ellsworth, Henry Leavitt. Washington Irving on the Prairie: Or a Narrative of a Tour of the Southwest in the Year 1832. Ed. Stanley T. Williams and Barbara D. Simison. New York: American Book, 1937. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Self-Reliance.” 1841. Ralph Waldo Emerson and Margaret Fuller: Selected Works. Ed. John Carlos Rowe. Boston and New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2003. 93-114. Fear, David. “Into the Woods.” Film Comment. Jan/Feb (2016): 22-27. Academic Search Premier. EBSCO. Web. 27 June 2016. Glass, Hugh. “Hugh Glass Letter on Display at Cultural Heritage Center.” South Dakota State News. 21 Jan. 2016. Retrieved on 24 June 2016. (http://news.sd.gov/newsitem.aspx?id=19773) Goetzmann, William H. Exploration and Empire: The Explorer and the Scientist in the Winning of the American West. New York: 288 정진만 Historical Book Club, 2006. Irving, Washington. Astoria or Anecdotes of an Enterprise beyond the Rocky Mountains. Ed. Edgeley W. Todd. 1836. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1964. . A Tour on the Prairies. Ed. John Francis McDermott. 1835. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1956. . The Adventures of Captain Bonneville U. S. A. in the Rocky Mountains and the Far West. Ed. Edgeley W. Todd. 1837. Norman: U of Oklahoma P, 1961. Kant, Immanuel. Critique of Judgment. Trans. J. H. Bernard. New York: Hafner, 1951. Kimmel, Michael. Manhood in America: A Cultural History. New York: Free, 1996. Lacan, Jacques. The Seminar of Jacques Lacan Book VII (The Ethics of Psychoanalysis 1959-1960). Ed. Jacques-Alain Miller. Trans. Dennis Porter. New York: W. W. Norton, 1997. Lakoff, Robin Tolmach. “The Power of Words in Wartime.” The New World Reader: Thinking and Writing about the Global Community. Ed. Gilbert H. Muller. 3rd ed. Boston: Wadsworth, 2011. 129-31. Lane, Anthony. “The Revenant.” The New Yoker. 11 Jan. 2016. Retrieved on 27 June 2016. (http://www.newyorker.com/goings-on-about-town/ movies/ the-revenant) . “Wilder West: ‘The Hateful Eight’ and ‘The Revenant’.” The New Yorker. 4 Jan. 2016. Retrieved on 4 July 2016. (http://www. newyorker.com/magazine/2016/01/04/wilder-west) Stanton, William. The Leopard’s Spots: Scientific Attitudes toward Race in America 1815-59. Chicago and London: U of Chicago P, 1960. Swagerty, William R. “Marriage and Settlement Patterns of Rocky Mountain Trappers and Traders.” The Western Historical Quarterly 11.2 (1980): 159-80. The Revenant. Screenplay by Mark L. Smith and Alejandro González Iñárritu. Dir. Alejandro González Iñárritu. Perf. Leonardo DiCaprio, Tom Hardy, Domhnall Gleeson, Will Poulter, and Forrest Goodluck. 19세기 마운틴 맨 유령의 현대적 귀환 289 20th Century Fox, 2015. Truitt, Brian. “Savage ‘The Revenant’ Has a Stark, Epic Beauty.” USA TODAY. 23 Dec. 2015. Retrieved on 27 June 2016. (https://www. pressreader.com/usa/usa-today-us-edition/20151223/282819305173816) Ward, John William. Andrew Jackson: Symbol for an Age. London: Oxford UP, 1955. Zacharek, Stephanie. “Review: There’s Lots of Suffering in The Revenant, But Bear with It.” TIME.COM. 22 Dec. 2015. Retrieved on 18 Jan. 2016. (http://time.com/4157304/the-revenant-movie-review) ■ 논문 투고일자: 2017. 04. 30 ■ 심사 완료일자: 2017. 06. 05 ■ 게재 확정일자: 2017. 06. 12 290 정진만 Abstract The Modern Return of a Nineteenth-Century Mountain Man’s Ghost: White Masculinity in The Revenant Jin Man Jeong (Yeungnam University) This essay explores racism, male-centrism, and nationalism (un)covered in Alejandro González Iñárritu’s The Revenant, focusing on its way of invoking white masculinity. Portraying the hero, Hugh Glass, romantically as a white affectionate toward Native Americans and mixed-bloods, The Revenant is reticent in expressing the historical reality of Glass as an aggressive Indian fighter who contributed to westward expansion. Even worse, the film silently instills the long-lasted racist (mis)belief about Native Americans (plus mixed-bloods) as the ‘Vanishing People’ by making an unbridgeable distance between Glass and his Pawnee wife (and his mixed-blood son). This essay would allow us to see the film’s strategy forging white Americans’ masculine robustness within the levels of gender, race, and nation, where other racial and national groups are characterized as effeminate and immoral in a complex way. Key Words The Revenant, Hugh Glass, mountain man, Vanishing People, masculinity, nationalism 
work_c7qfkmv5vjgudjh3mghlszbyxm	----	19: Interdisciplinary Studies in the Long Nineteenth Century Login | Register Home About 19 Live Articles Issues Contact Start Submission Account Login Register Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 This issue of 19 explores the contribution of women as collectors from the mid-nineteenth century to the aftermath of the First World War, paying particular attention to the cosmopolitan transfer of artworks, ideas, and expertise between Britain, France, and the United States. The authors reflect on women’s role in acquiring, displaying, and donating works of art, often in ways that crossed national borders or that subvert gendered assumptions about taste. Beyond its value as a form of personal expression, the articles reflect on how far collecting provided women with a public platform in the late nineteenth century, enabling them to shape the contents of cultural institutions and promote new types of inquiry. But the articles also cast light on the archival and methodological reasons why women’s crucial contributions in this domain have so often been obscured. The idea for this issue originated with the study days organized in 2019 to celebrate the philanthropy of Lady Wallace, who gifted the collections of the Hertford family to the nation. Cover image: Detail of William Rothenstein, The Browning Readers, 1900, oil on canvas, 76 × 96.5 cm, Cartwright Hall Art Gallery, Bradford. Editors: Tom Stammers (Guest Editor) Introduction Women Collectors and Cultural Philanthropy, c. 1850–1920 Tom Stammers 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Article ‘Life was a spectacle for her’: Lady Dorothy Nevill as Art Collector, Political Hostess, and Cultural Philanthropist Caroline McCaffrey-Howarth 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Beyond the Bowes Museum: The Social and Material Worlds of Alphonsine Bowes de Saint-Amand Lindsay Macnaughton 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 French Taste in Victorian England: The Collection of Yolande Lyne-Stephens Laure-Aline Griffith-Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Unmasking an Enigma: Who Was Lady Wallace and What Did She Achieve? Suzanne Higgott 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 More than Mere Ornaments: Female Visitors to Sir Richard Wallace’s Art Collection Helen C. Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 New Collections for New Women: Collecting and Commissioning Portraits at the Early Women’s University Colleges Imogen Tedbury 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Ellen Tanner’s Persia: A Museum Legacy Rediscovered Catrin Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 The Artistic Patronage and Transatlantic Connections of Florence Blumenthal Rebecca Tilles 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 A Woman of No Importance?: Elizabeth Workman’s Collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist Art in Context Frances Fowle 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Afterword Afterword Kate Hill 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Created by potrace 1.14, written by Peter Selinger 2001-2017 | 1755-1560 | Published by Open Library of Humanities | Privacy Policy Sitemap Contact Login 
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work_crapqdxfgvgyfjmg3vsdd6uhtm	----	A wise consistency: engineering biology for conformity, reliability, predictability A wise consistency: engineering biology for conformity, reliability, predictability Adam Paul Arkin1,2 Available online at www.sciencedirect.com ScienceDirect The next generation of synthetic biology applications will increasingly involve engineered organisms that exist in intimate contact with humans, animals and the rest of the environment. Examples include cellular and viral approaches for maintaining and improving health in humans and animals. The need for reliable and specific function in these environments may require more complex system designs than previously. In these cases the uncertainties in the behavior of biological building blocks, their hosts and their environments present a challenge for design of predictable and safe systems. Here, we review systematic methods for the effective characterization of these uncertainties that are lowering the barriers to predictive design of reliable complex biological systems. Addresses 1 Department of Bioengineering, University of California, 2151 Berkeley Way, Berkeley, CA 94704-5230, United States 2 Physical Biosciences Division, E. O. Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, 1 Cyclotron Road, Mailstop 955-512L, Berkeley, CA 94720, United States Corresponding author: Arkin, Adam Paul (aparkin@lbl.gov) Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 This review comes from a themed issue on Synthetic biology Edited by Adam P Arkin and Martin Fussenegger For a complete overview see the Issue and the Editorial Available online 20th November 2013 1367-5931 # 2013 The Author. Published by Elsevier Ltd. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.cbpa.2013.09.012 Introduction ‘‘A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds’’ -Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his essay ‘‘Self-Reliance’’ Aspects that differentiate synthetic biology from other fields of molecular biotechnology are the ambition to formalize and scale the complexity of design of new function in biology, and for such designs to reliably and predictably operate as specified. The application Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. www.sciencedirect.com areas preexist the field: biosynthesis of valuable chemi- cals for materials and medicine; production of plants for food, energy and ecological control; engineering of genetic, viral and cellular approaches for health mainten- ance and improvement; microbial communities for soil and water improvement; and many others. The areas in which design of predictable and reliable complex biological function is likely to be most import- ant involve engineering biology for applications in the less controlled conditions that obtain beyond the bio- reactor such as viral and cellular therapies for medicine or microbial and plant applications for agriculture. Yet these are the applications most in need of synthetic biology, at least according to a recent report of the World Economic Forum put forward an analysis of global risks [1,2]. These applications involve engineered organisms that exist in intimate contact with humans, animals and the rest of the environment. As such, issues of reliability and trust become paramount in addition to the effect of the technology. Reliability and predictability are central not only to trust between technologists and society wherein risk needs a rational actuarial basis but also among the technologists themselves. One designer must trust that reusable systems designed by another will operate as advertised. Ten years ago, the most immediate barriers to an efficient design-build-test cycle were finding the proper biological parts, cloning and/or synthesizing them, and assembling and inserting them into cells. While these barriers remain, their heights have been significantly lowered by inno- vations in DNA sequencing, synthesis, assembly and scaling functional assays. The combination is enabling rapid creation and screening of many variants of a design. For some applications it is now possible to screen large libraries for the proper pathway and host variations to produce a target molecule to a given level with increasing efficacy. However, many applications are complex enough that this is not an option. The initial designs must be implemented with parts that work predictably enough to produce systems with that function very close to specification, and safely, so that there is minimal need for testing many variants semi-randomly. Here, the bar- riers concern the unpredictable operation of biological parts in different contexts — that is, in different con- figurations with other parts, in different hosts and in different environments. We will start by reviewing a Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 aparkin@lbl.gov http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/journal/13675931/17/6 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.cbpa.2013.11.005 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.cbpa.2013.09.012 http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/journal/13675931 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ 894 Synthetic biology few key emerging complex biomedical applications that are aimed squarely beyond the bioreactor then describe systematic approaches to achieving reliable function despite variable context. Example applications from present and future synthetic biological medicine While all applications can benefit from more predictable operation of synthetic biological systems in deployment environments, few applications challenge this possibility like those in medicine. There have been some startling successes in using organisms as medicine. These include adoptive immunotherapy with engineered T-cells to cure certain types of cancer [3 � ,4], engineered bacteria and oncolytic viruses for cancer [5,6], viral gene therapy for blindness [7,8] and hemophilia [9], and fecal transplants that harbinger designed communities for inflammation [10,11]. In some cases, the success of these applications might argue that there is not a need for complex design — that a combination of finding the correct natural starting points and modest modifications for our own purposes will be sufficient. However, as increasing specificity and long term reliability are needed, more sophisticated designs are being proposed. For example, Xie et al. demonstrated a multi-input RNAi logic circuit to be delivered as a gene therapy that would very specifically determine if an infected cell were a particular cancer type only then deliver a molecular therapeutic [12]. Anderson and col- leagues built up several steps toward the bottom-up design of a tumor-destroying bacterium that, theoreti- cally, would specifically invade target tumor cells after successful aggregation in the tumor necrotic region, then escape the vacuole and deliver a therapy to the cytosol or nucleus of the target cell [13–15]. Other complicated designs involve sophisticated control systems, composed from logic gates, oscillators and feedback systems, for homeostatic stem-cell differentiation into islet-like cells for diabetes [16 � ] or designs for what amount to viral parasites that interfere with the propagation of HIV inside hosts with implications for in-host viral quasispecies competitions and transmission of the engineered virus [17–19,20 � ]. None of these are fully working applications as yet. Clearly, with more ‘moving parts’, needs for high specificity of function, and persistence in complex com- petitive environments, they have been harder to imple- ment and these designs would benefit from a degree of trustworthy engineering beyond what we can currently deliver effectively. Quantifying reliable function across contexts Most skepticism of the synthetic biology agenda stems from the criticism that there is too much unknown about the biological system to be engineered and the effects of and on the environment in which it is to be deployed for a predictable engineering approach to be possible. While it Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 is likely true that the levels of uncertainty in biological engineering will be larger than in any other engineering discipline, we argue that it is not a hopeless venture and systematization of the field will enable predictably func- tioning designs. One of the controversial tenets of some synthetic biol- ogists is that a reliable engineering field rests, at least in part, on the community agreeing to use well-character- ized and ‘standardized’ parts and hosts. We, and others, have reviewed why this is so elsewhere and outlined much of the desiderata for such parts including tun- ability, orthogonality, scalability and more [21]. For gene expression in particular there has been an efflor- escence of such families of standardized parts or mod- ular strategies for creation of scalable functional regulators. Most of these affect transcription or trans- lation initiation [22 �� ,23–26] or elongation [27–31] though emerging standards are beginning to include elements that mediate transcriptional termination [32,33], orthogonal protein–protein interactions for con- trolling metabolic pathway flux [34] and signaling [35] and targeted elements for controlling transcript [36] and protein degradation. The results of these have been the ability to predictably create circuits of increasing com- plexity but even these remain relatively small (2–5 input logic gates and memory circuits [37,38 � ,39,40]). Ideally, each of these families provides not only building blocks for complex circuits but also represents controlled vari- ations of key performance variables, such as promoter strength, that can be used in formal design-of-exper- iment protocols to rationally search a parameter space for optimal function [41]. Since the behavior of even these small circuits can be sensitive to changes in media/ environment, host background, and configuration of elements on a replicon, characterization of their variable behavior across contexts is necessary. We, and others, have begun to define and dissect the different areas of uncertainty, context effects, and design approaches to characterize and control their effects [42,43]. In Figure 1, we define six distinct levels of context effect (intrinsic, genetic, host, environmental, ecological, and evolutionary). Below, we review systema- tic approaches to characterize and design against these effects. We choose, though, to leave out the study of intrinsic context since this can be fairly specific to the molecule involved. However, issues such as methods for sequence optimization for expression control [44], stan- dard elements for affecting molecular folding and solu- bility [45], and another of other innovations in molecular engineering to affect transport, degradation, and activity are becoming more standard and are worthy of a review of their own. For the others, we focus on systematic methods that aim to elucidate and control general mechanisms of context effects or provide enough data that models can aid in predictable design. www.sciencedirect.com A wise consistency Arkin 895 Figure 1 Examples of systematic approaches to characterization and prediction Intrinsic context Sequence optimization for gene expression Optimal configuration of regulatory elements for expression Optimization of host resources to support synthetic circuit Optimal configuration of regulatory elements for expression Optimization of system for ecological impact Optimal configuration of regulatory elements for expression Vary Measure Model Predict Vary Measure Model Predict Vary Measure Model Predict Vary Measure Model Predict Vary Measure Model Predict Vary Measure Model Predict Variation of(e.g.) Abundance of Performance Variation of(e.g.) Variation of(e.g.) Variation of(e.g.) Abundance of Performance Recoded sequence of new target gene for optimal expression and minimum load. Configuration of promoters and UTRs to expression new target to desired level. • Codons • Predicted RNA Structure • promoters • 5′ UTRs • Terminators • Host gene expression • Environmental parameters • Host and synthetic circuit expression • System parameters • Surrounding life • System parameters • Mutation rates in host and surrounding organisms. Genetic change as a function of system parameters. Elements on which selective pressure should be eliminated or controlled. • Fitness and performance of system • Changes in population Population behavior as function of activity of synthetic systems System designs that minimize (or maximize) desired impact on ecology. • mRNA • Protein • Growth • mRNA • Protein • Growth • Performance of synthetic system • Host growth • Host resources • Performance of synthetic system • Changes in environment Genetic changes that optimize performance and host health Genetic changes that improve system performance in a new environment. Performance as a function of host variation Performance as function of environmental parameters • Expression and growth as function of variables • Part properties • Expression as function of parts Genetic context Host context Environmental context Ecological context Evolutionary context Variation of part behavior over variation in molecular properties Reciprocal variation of behavior of parts when physically joined together Reciprocal variation of part behavior and host physiology when functionally composited Reciprocal variation of part behavior and environmental parameters Reciprocal changes in fitness in synthetic system and surrounding community Reciprocal changes in genetic composition due to interactions between the synthetic system and the ecological context. Molecular scale References 44,45 22,46,48, 49,50,51 55,56 59,61,62 63 67 System scale Current Opinion in Chemical Biology Contexts effects and approaches to their characterization. Context effects are unintended interactions among elements of a synthetic biological system, their host, and their surrounding environment. Here we present one possible categorical breakdown of these effects and outline the approaches to their characterization. Systematic design and quantification of genetic context The genetic context of a part comprises those mechan- isms that change the key properties of a biological part when it is physically interconnected on the same mol- ecule. For example, the expression of an open reading frame is affected by the presence of a promoter upstream of it, but it is also affected by local DNA structure, epigenetic marks, and structural interactions of its RNA with other elements encoded on the transcript. These interactions are reciprocal and the insertion of an ORF can affect the function of surrounding elements [42,46 �� ]. Recently, systematic approaches to quantify and control these sorts of interactions in the bacterium Escherichia coli have emerged. Salis et al. developed the ribosome bind- ing site calculator, a method based on thermodynamic www.sciencedirect.com structure predictions of interactions among the ribosome its binding sequence and the local structure around the gene start, to predict 50UTR and coding sequence variants that will yield a desired relative expression level [47,48]. While very useful, this method still has a wide amount of variability in prediction and does not permit reuse of standard translation initiation elements. Kosuri et al. recently demonstrated the use of large scale gene synthesis to explore over twelve thousand combi- nations of promoters and 50UTRS driving gene expres- sion and measured the variable effects of mRNA production, stability and translation [49]. They confirm the importance RNA structural interactions and argue that using this technology one can simply screen for the desired expression level. However, when the designed circuit becomes large such screening would become prohibitively costly. In a complementary approach, Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 896 Synthetic biology Mutalik et al. performed a factorial ANOVA analysis of a controlled library of widely used but nonstandardized promoters, 50UTRs, and genes to quantify the intrinsic strengths and context variability of these elements and showed that all elements interacted with each other to affect mRNA and protein production (Figure 2A.1) [46 �� ]. They showed that certain elements were less genetically context sensitive than others (a measure of part quality). Figure 2 (a1) (b) (c) (a2) 7 Nonstandard Promoter variants 11 nonstandard 5′ UTR variants Nonstandard Promoter:5′ UTR junction 5′ UTR:CDS junction SD 1% Unexplained Standardized junctions R2 = 0.9 Irregular junctions R 2 = 0.4 GFP fluorescence (mean centered, a.u. log2) R F P f lu o re sc e n ce ( m e a n c e n te re d , a .u ., lo g 2 ) −5 −4 −4 −3 −3 −2 −2 −1 −1 0 1 2 3 4 4 3 2 1 0 13.5% 5′UTR:CDS 37% Promoters 45.6% 5′UTR 2% Promoter:5′UTR 0.9% Promoter:CDS +1 gfp An example of characterization and control of genetic context effects. (A) In 50-UTRs that affect translation initiation and transcript stability to drive expre apparent properties of each element. An ANOVA analysis, a result of which interactions among them affects expression of a target gene. Pie chart is deriv standardized genetic parts to express different genes led to virtual eliminatio (derived from Figure 4e from Ref. [22��]). (C) Correlation of expression of dif combinations. Standardized parts and junctions between them (as shown in (derived from Figure 4d from Ref. [22��]). (D) Predicted versus observed exp parts shows �93% chance to obtain an expected normalized relative expre Figure 4f from Ref. [22��]). Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 Mutalik et al. then showed how embedding variants of a Shine–Dalgarno sequence inside a short cistron trans- lated just upstream of a target sequence breaks up RNA structures could lead to highly predictable expression across a number of genes (an effect amplified by also using standardized promoters with defined + 1 locations) (Figure 2A.2) [22 �� ]. These highly controlled junctions between standard regulatory elements improved the R2 of the correlation between the relative expression of 14 Standard Promoter variants 22 Standard BCD variants Cistron 2 Standard +1 Promoter:5′ UTR junction Translationally coupledBCD:GOI junction +1 SD1 NNNGGANNN SD2 A T G. .Cistron 1 T TA A G . .. . . Fluorescence predicted from GFP data (mean centered, a.u., log2) O b se rv e d f lu o re sc e n ce a cr o ss a ll G O Is (m e a n c e n te re d , a .u ., lo g 2 ) −4 −4 −5 −5−6 −3 −3 −2 −2 −1 −1 3 R 2 = 0.9 3 RFP PMK PA Cellulase TetR Lacl AraC Linear (RFP) 2 2 1 1 0 0 56% BIOFAB Promoters 42% BIOFAB BCDs 0.1% Promoter:BCD 1% BCD:CDS gfp Current Opinion in Chemical Biology one study, it was determined that use of nonstandardized promoters and ssion of different genes led to unintended interactions that affected the is shown in the pie chart, indicates the amount that each part and the ed from Figure 3 of Ref. [46��]. (B) In a follow-on study, design and use of n of unintended interactions as shown by a pie-chart similar to that in (A) ferent fluorescent proteins expressed from the same promoter and UTR (B)) lead to far reliable gene expression across a diversity of gene types ression of a diversity of genes based on models of standard expression ssion for a given gene to within two-fold of a target level (derived from www.sciencedirect.com A wise consistency Arkin 897 different genes driven by the same promoter/UTR com- binations from 0.4 to 0.9 (Figure 2B). The method achieves an �93% chance to obtain an expected normalized relative expression for a given gene to within two-fold of a target level, which represents an �87% reduction in forward- engineering expression error compared to the error rates of previously best available methods (Figure 2C). Along similar lines, Qi et al. used a CRISPR-associated RNA cleavage protein [50] and Lou et al. used a ribozyme [51] to create controlled, physically separated blocks on the tran- script to remove structural interactions on the transcript and improve predictable function of regulatory and gene encoding elements therein. With the CRISPR-protein csy4, Qi et al. showed improved predictability of expres- sion of genes in different positions in an operon [50] and Liu et al. showed composition of multiple regulatory elements to create a 4-input NOR gate on a single tran- script [38 � ]. Systematic quantification of host context Any addition of replicable DNA to a host cell necessarily impacts the host’s physiology. There is at least a small effect of carrying and replicating this DNA. It might disrupt local replicon structures changing the expression of neighboring genes, and the activities encoded in the DNA might affect host physiology through competition for resources, interference with other host biomolecules, and designed interactions. Reciprocally, the ability to express heterologous DNA is dependent on possibly variant host resources, and expressed function might be dependent on particular host subsystems that may vary thereby affecting designed function. The load effects can change the fitness of the synthetic system thereby coupling to issues with evolutionary context. Metabolic engineers have long dealt with specific issues of host interaction including cofactor and carbon flux balancing to ensure host growth while maximizing flux to a pathway of interest. Designers of regulation have begun to consider, for example, the asymmetrical load between the ON and OFF state of genetic switches which can lead to undesirable growth differences of cells in the different switch states. New switch designs using DNA inversion, for example, can maintain symmetrical low-load ON and OFF states leading to increased fitness of the host and longer-times to mutational failure [52,53,54]. Recently, approaches for systematically discovering unknown mechanisms of host context have been devel- oped to supplement these knowledge-based approaches. Cardinale et al. show that variation in cloning strain background can affect expression of a three gene probe cassette in E. coli that is largely explainable by changes in host growth and ribosomal availability (Figure 3A) but that when that same cassette is passed into 88 deletion strains of E. coli BW25113 there seem to be more specific www.sciencedirect.com effects of each gene deletion on circuit performance (Figure 3B) [55 �� ]. Specific metabolic and signaling genes, when deleted had large positive and negative effects (respectively) on expression of all three fluor- escent proteins of the probe while a couple differentially affected expression of at least one of the proteins. Key subsystems that generically and specifically affect heter- ologous circuit function were thereby identified and mapped to subelements of the synthetic circuit. In a complementary approach, Woodruff et al. [56] created a library of millions of overexpressed genome fragments in an ethanol production strain and subjected it to a growth selection to quantitatively map variation of host genes to improvements in ethanol tolerance and production. They identified that membrane and osmotic stress were import- ant limiting issues for the strain and that a single host gene that when overexpressed led up to a 75% improvement relative to the parent production strain. Other genome scale techniques for measuring macromol- ecular interaction and metabolic profiles will add more data that should aid in improving strain performance. Formal methods to transform these data into models of biological parts and their interactions suitable to drive design decisions remains to be developed. Systematic quantification of environmental context Host and environmental context are intimately linked because the major (unintended) effects of environment on a heterologous circuit are likely to arise via effects on host physiology. Sometimes, if the environment of deployment is known and static one can design or select circuits that operate well under those conditions. In metabolic engineering, there is the oft-cited problem that the biosynthetic pathways engineered in the laboratory often work poorly in the scaled-reactors that are necessary for economic production [57,58]. To demonstrate some issues, Moser et al. characterized how small synthetic circuits operate in different industrially relevant con- ditions and showed how changes in fermentation process affect host growth and resources thereby differentially affecting synthetic logic circuits in the host cell [59]. A recent industrial example of the challenge is the conver- sion of biosynthetic production of 1,3-propanediol, a precursor for many industrial products, from ‘specialty’ to commodity scale required the optimization of over 70 genes off-pathway before sufficient production in indust- rially relevant environments was achieved [60]. Many separate groups working over many years achieved the optimization. In more complex environments beyond the bioreactor we can imagine that the issues of designing predictable and reliable function are compounded. Formal methods for discovering the interaction between host and heterologous genes and environmental con- ditions should lead to principles of design by which desirable synthetic function is maintained in the face Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 898 Synthetic biology Figure 3 Cloning Strain Host Context P p re d ic te d Pcerulean Pcerulean 1.2 1.4 1.2 1.0 0.8 0.6 0.4 1.2 fruR tktA narL che DH10B 1.0 1.0 0.8 0.8 0.6 0.6 0.4 0.6 0.8 1.0 1.2 1.4 (a) (b) Deletion Strain Host Context R2adj=0.33 glpX cysA qseB DH1 BW25113MG1655 HB101 BL21 P = λ + r + κ R2adj=0.94 W3110 Current Opinion in Chemical Biology glnL An example of characterization of host context for a simple probe circuit. A plasmid bearing three simple monocistronic expression cassettes for different fluorescent proteins (mCherry, mVenus, and mCerulean) was transformed either into six different standard laboratory strains of Escherichia coli or into 88 deletion strains derived from E. coli BW25113. The effect of each genetic background on protein expression was measured. (A) Predicted versus observed protein production of mCerulean based on a linear regression model relating inferred protein production to a combination of ribosome availability, lag time, and growth rate (inset equation). For the cloning strains it was possible to explain differences in protein production by strain to strain differences in ribosome availability. (R2 = 0.94). The small inset is a representation of the probe circuit. Points are labeled by strain name. (B) For the deletion strains however, effects seemed more gene specific and the model from (A) could only explain 33% of the production variability. The method identified host subsystems and genes that both generically and specifically affect heterologous gene expression. Figures are derived from Figures 1D and 2D of Ref. [55��] respectively. of variable conditions. One approach is to systematically vary both environmental conditions and gene expression to map the interactions between environmental com- ponents and each gene that affect fitness and designed phenotype. Skerker et al. used large-scale insertional mutagenesis of the ethanol producing bacterium, Zymo- monas mobilis, to discover the genes that affect tolerance to and productivity in cellulosic hydrolysates that can be feedstocks for industrial fermentation [61 �� ]. Such plant hydrolysates also contain many compounds that inhibit microbial growth and fermentation. By mapping how every gene in this organism conferred fitness in both purified components and mixtures, 44 genes were ident- ified to be key determinants of performance and linked to particular classes of chemical stressor. It was possible to infer from this gene set that the real hydrolysates con- tained an inhibitory compound, methylglyoxal, that had not been detected previously. The information was used to target genes for strain improvement. In a related approach Sandoval et al. used barcoded promoter mutation libraries to map the effect of increased or decreased expression of nearly every gene in E. coli onto growth in several model environments (cellulosic hydro- lysate, low pH, and high acetate). They identified more than 25 mutations that improved growth rate 10–200% for several different conditions and pointed to subsystems of importance to tolerance to hydrolysate [62 �� ]. The Current Opinion in Chemical Biology 2013, 17:893–901 Sandoval study, however, also demonstrated how difficult it could be to combine knowledge of these different mechanisms together to vastly improve strain perform- ance because of a type of buffering epistasis among effects of the different genes. Systematic quantification of ecological context Because there are few applications wherein it is currently feasible to release synthetic organisms into open ecologies there have been scarce studies quantifying the biological basis of persistence of synthetic organisms in complex ecologies or the impact of the synthetic organism thereon. There are not yet rigorous metrics based on definitions of environmental health for how much it is permissible to perturb an ecology through introduction of an organism. However, we have pro- gressed to the point where it is increasingly possible to map interactions between an introduced microbe and the surrounding ecology using metagenomic and associated functional techniques. In a recent study of a long term experiment mapping how a genetically modified micro- organism (Pseudomonas fluorescens HK44 engineered for degradation of polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons) and its DNA survive and propagate in realistic environ- ments, a metagenomic analysis of a soil lysimeter com- munity tracked the changes in microbial population composition over time. After fourteen years, while the www.sciencedirect.com A wise consistency Arkin 899 engineered microbe population had declined below detectability and could not be cultured, signatures of its specific DNA did survive and might be associated by transfer to other microbes [63 �� ]. The authors did not specifically conclude how the surrounding microbial population dynamics were different between populations exposed and not exposed to HK44 but the study demonstrated the technical feasibility of addressing this question. In a mammalian context, similar metagenomic approaches were used to track how the gut microbial population in a patient suffering from Clostridium diffi- cile-associated disease changed after treatment by fecal transplant from a healthy donor [64]. The study demon- strated how the population overall change and stabilized to resemble the healthy microbial population, repopulat- ing with key missing taxa, and alleviating symptoms. While there were no engineered microbes in this particu- lar treatment, the study is a harbinger for how to track and understand the effects of engineered probiotics and other components of the human microbiome. Systematic quantification of evolutionary context Evolutionary context concerns how quickly a synthetic organism is selected out of a population or accumulates fitness-enhancing mutations, some of which might change the designed behaviors, in a given environment as a consequence of bearing specific synthetic elements. A goal is to map how inclusion of a specific heterologous DNA sequence into an organism will affect its fitness across environments and how properties of that sequence will affect the mutation rates across the genome. Knowl- edge of mechanisms of mutation has provided rules of thumb for design. For example, it is known that intro- duction of repetitive elements into a design invites a higher rate of their recombination and thus mutation of circuit function, an effect that has been recently used in a positive sense to direct mutations to improve circuit function by introduction of repeats into RBS spacer regions to target tuning of translational efficiency [65]. Approaches to prevent heterologous circuit loads from causing evolutionary pressure on the host and thus selec- tion for loss of function have been demonstrated in- cluding using switch elements whose state-maintenance requires minimal energy to maintain state [54] and designs that effectively couple expression of a costly element to that of an essential element [66]. There are few systematic studies of how different environments and part designs collude to affect host fitness and mutation rates. Sleight et al. studied how similarity between two homologous terminators leads to differing rates of deletion of the region between [67 �� ]. They found that removing all homology between the terminators increased the evolutionary half-life in a given environment 170-fold compared to identical www.sciencedirect.com terminators and that the evolutionary half-life of the circuit decreased exponentially with increasing expres- sion of the intervening gene. Given the systematic methods for measuring environmental context above, and the ability to construct and measure large libraries of configurations and variations of synthetic parts, it should be possible to scale studies to derive quantitative principles linking intrinsic, genetic and evolutionary con- text to evolutionary rates. Conclusions The approaches above suggest a program by which the uncertainties that challenge complex and trustworthy design in synthetic biology might be overcome. Systema- tic characterization of host biology and synthetic bio- logical part operation across contexts can lead to discovery of mechanisms, both generic and specific, that affect reliable operation of heterologous circuitry and will form a knowledgebase sufficient for predictive design. Most such characterization, to date, has been for engin- eered bacteria and we need to extend these method- ologies to mammalian circuitry. The scale necessary for such systematic characterization may call for large-scale scientific programs to collect these data on parts and designs for specific challenge appli- cations. For an efficient design, build, test and learn cycle such programs would need defensible laboratory simu- lations of deployment environments that allow efficient capture of the effects at each level of context above and a suite of measurement tools to capture the physiological state of the cells, the interactions with the nonliving and living members of its environment, and the fitness and mutational effects therein. To serve this, standard exper- imental designs and computational frameworks need to be developed that properly parameterize and assess pre- dictive models of function of single biological parts and whole systems under context uncertainty. If this can be accomplished then the barriers to design and imple- mentation of the complex biological systems that may be necessary to solve problems beyond the bioreactor will be significantly lowered. Acknowledgements This work was supported by a grant from the Department of Energy grant number DE-FOA-0000640. APA would like to acknowledge V.K. Mutalik for his help with Figure 2. References and recommended reading Papers of particular interest, published within the period of review, have been highlighted as: � of special interest �� of outstanding interest 1. World Economic Forum, Insight Report: Global Risks 2012; 2012. Geneva. 2. Global Agenda Council on Emerging Technologies, The top 10 emerging technologies for 2012. The World Economics Forum Blog 2012. Available from: http://forumblog.org/2012/02/the- 2012-top-10-emerging-technologies/. 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A nice approach to characterize evolutionary context through designed variations in circuit sequence and environment. 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work_ctflge5mqfe3ng5u6s72rhcaya	----	Microsoft Word - 19 stampa.doc 502.131.1; 711.438 Original scientific paper spatium 1 LIVAB LE H UMAN CO MMU NITIES A Sustainab ilit y Nar r ati ve Douglas M. Cotner This paper will explore the subject of “Livable Human Communities” as the product of “Sustainable Development”, which is rooted in the “Science of Sustainability”. Public policy to facilitate Livable Human Communities will also be examined, with recommendations proffered, which are science based, within the context of a sustainable development paradigm, which is reliant upon the “Ecological Footprint” and “A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space”, for policy formation purposes. Key words: Ecological Footprint, Livable Human Communities, Paradigm, Public Policy, Science of Sustainability, Sustainable Development INTRODUCTION All men by nature desire to know. Aristotle, Metaphysics Livable Human Communities, Sustainable Development, and Public Policy are inextricably linked. Linkage flows from Sustainable-Development-Science. This science informs the Public Policy Environment, where all stakeholders exercise input rights. Policy makers use stakeholder input, which forms feedback loops to establish, and then adjust development laws, rules, and regulations. From complex feedback loops policy officials learn how they can help to make available, development funding, and other assistance to stakeholders. Funding then creates an opportunity-environment, which then encourages the development of Livable Human Communities. Theory and practical thinking suggests that, for a human community to be livable, certain fundamentals must first be in place. These include a mix of both tangible and intangible elements. However, human communities that are experienced as livable are firstly places where people feel safe in their persons and their property. Secondly, livable places feature a civil society that is open and transparent, where there is a significant level of local autonomy in decision-making. Finally, there must be access to the opportunities of education, leisure, housing, and employment, within a context of equity, and fairness. Livable Human Communities must meet myriad human needs on a daily basis. Some physical, and some based in the individuals’ perception of the quality of the physical environment within which daily life unfolds. A good example of this sensibility is the Village Green, formerly Baldwin Hills Village. This was the signature housing and multiple- use project designed for the City of Los Angeles by the great American Architect and Town Planner, Clarence Stein (1935-1942). It featured a “Superblock” within which a variety of housing was built. Motor vehicles were kept at the periphery. This was a design feature, created to protect pedestrians and children from vehicular conflicts. Daily shopping, entertainment, public schools, recreation, and leisure opportunities were developed within and along the edges of the Superblock. The significance of Baldwin Hills Village is, that prior to World War II, Los Angeles City officials, architects, and town planners, determined that this concept of Clarence Stein would guide future urban development for the City Los Angeles. However, the war intervened and plans were shelved for the duration, 1941- 1945. By 1946, the model for city and regional development (automobile-based sprawl) was set, and would become the template for the “Built-Environment” from 1946 onward. The development paradigm, as expressed by Baldwin Hills Village of 1942, would be rapidly marginalized by government officials and private sector development interests, and just as quickly forgotten in the post-war years. Figure 1 will give the reader a sense of both the design and appearance of this livable human community. The Transit Village is a densely populated mixed use community, which is well served by high quality transit and rail systems. This type of “village” makes it convenient to work, live, and pursue leisure, without the burden of automobile ownership. Absent the automobile in one’s life, a person is liberated to ride transit and take up leisurely walking in order to enjoy pleasantly designed visual environments. Transit Villages also have active, stimulating, and strong neighborhood centers that focus around transit and local businesses. Transit Villages are becoming more popular, because they offer the prospect of richer quality of life for all, making this form of urban- spatial organization, a livable human community-type. The examples cited represent human communities that are designed and built to a livable scale, with regard to the everyday needs of its users. Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. 2 spatium The Transit Village is a densely populated mixed use community, which is well served by high quality transit and rail systems. This type of “village” makes it convenient to work, live, and pursue leisure, without the burden of automobile ownership. Absent the automobile in one’s life, a person is liberated to ride transit and take up leisurely walking in order to enjoy pleasantly designed visual environments. Transit Villages also have active, stimulating, and strong neighborhood centers that focus around transit and local businesses. Transit Villages are becoming more popular, because they offer the prospect of richer quality of life for all, making this form of urban- spatial organization, a livable human community-type. The examples cited represent human communities that are designed and built to a livable scale, with regard to the everyday needs of its users. SUSTAINABLE DEVELOPMENT SCIENCE Science is but a perversion of itself unless it has as its ultimate goal the betterment of humanity. Nikola Tesla In the rush by many, to put sustainable development solutions into place, the science- of-sustainability was pushed to the margins of their thinking. The term sustainable development was appropriated, minus what the science was telling them. The need for sustainable development became clouded in many minds, forgetting the concept of Sustainable Development. It should be restated, that the concept of Sustainable Development was born of a pervasive awareness that national-failures to sustain economic development and manage natural and human-made environments threaten to overwhelm all of our communities. Further, that development cannot subsist on a deteriorating resource base. The resource base cannot be improved or protected when growth leaves out of account the costs of environmental degradation, destruction, and misappropri- ation. The overarching goal of sustainable development is to maintain our community populations and institutions across future generations without degrading the carrying capacity and utility or our capital stocks, essential infrastructure and the human living environment. The primary measures of sustainability are structural and functional The Contemporary European-Style Transit Village Figure 2: America takes a page from European City and Transportation Planning. These images are of a transit village project, which is located in Portland, Oregon, USA. The Village Green-Formerly Baldwin Hills Village Figure 1: Baldwin Hills Village as it exists today. The Superblock contrasts sharply with the surrounding area. To the right, a portion of this livable community, as seen from ground level. The white arrows mark the “Superblock”. Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. spatium 3 integrity, intergenerational capacity, and continuity. The Science-of-Sustainability establishes the foundation upon which all “Sustainable Development” activities must be based. Before undertaking a Sustainable Development activity or initiative for a village, town, city, county, state, region, or nation, their Ecological Footprints must be calculated, and analyzed. The Ecological Footprint, therefore, is a resource accounting tool used to address underlying sustainability questions. William Rees (University of British Columbia) States in this regard that, ...resource prices are misleading, because they tell us little about the condition of essential natural capital stocks or the preferences of future generations.[1] It measures the extent to which humanity is using nature's resources faster than they can regenerate, which is known as “Overshoot”. William Rees (University of British Columbia) States that, Overshoot is defined as, “growth beyond an area’s ecological carrying capacity, leading to crash” (Catton). “Overshoot” is a defining factor for resource use, which is kept out of the account in mainstream free-market economic thought. The factor of “Overshoot” informs objective analysis, in contrast to standard free-market economics, which cannot hope to cope with a progressively degraded biosphere and geosphere. Overshoot recognizes implicitly, that natural, biological systems renew in circular flows in their biophysical dynamics. Human-Made systems, on the other hand, are linear in nature, and ecologically blind to the environment. Further, that “Overshoot” is the root cause of the most serious of environmental problems threatening life on Earth in our time. These problems include rising food prices, fisheries collapse, world climate change, diminishing forests, and the degrading of biological diversity. The Ecological Footprint illustrates who uses how much of which ecological resource, with populations defined either geographically or socially. Moreover, it shows to what degree humans have come to dominate the biosphere, at the expense of wild species. Moreover, the Ecological Footprint clarifies the relationship of resource use to equity, by explicitly tying individuals' and a groups' activities to ecological demands. Knowing and understanding these connections help decision makers to more accurately and equitably shape policy in support of social and environmental justice. Ecological Footprint Analysis invites citizen involvement in the development of their community, because it graphically lays out the amount of bio-physical goods each person of a particular population is consuming, expressed as a consumption-resource availability budget. This includes resources available locally, and those resources consumed from somewhere else. The question a given community then begins to ask is, “How can we all have great lives, while consuming less of nature’s biophysical goods”? An example of the output of Ecological Footprint Analysis is presented in Table 1. The calculations reflected in the numbers in the summary table below, start with a very simple equation. A great deal is owed to Professor William Rees and Dr. Mathis Wackernagel for their innovation of the idea of the Ecological Footprint at the University of British Columbia, Canada. Developed by Rees and Wackernagel, this simple but powerful Ecological Overshoot Figure 3: Ecological Debt Day Representation (Courtesy of the Global Footprint Network) Ecological Footprint And Biocapacity Data-2003 Table 1: Ecological Footprint Tabulation, (Courtesy of Global Footprint Network 2006: Ecological Footprints and Biocapacity). Ha = hectares, 1 Hectare=2.471 English acres. Place Population (Millions) Total Ecological Footprint (Global ha/person) Total Bio- Capacity (Global ha/person) Ecological Deficit (-) or Reserve (+) global ha/person) World 6,301.5 2.2 1.8 -0.5 High Income Countries 955.6 6.4 3.3 -3.1 Middle Income Countries 3,011.7 1.9 2.1 0.2 Low Income Countries 2,303.1 0.8 0.7 -0.1 Serbia & Montenegro 10.5 2.3 0.8 -1.5 Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. 4 spatium equation can be stated as, ef = ∑ aai i = 1 to n Where: ef Per-capita footprint. ∑ Summation. aai All ecosystem areas appropriated. n All items purchased in an annual shopping basket of consumption goods and services. The Ecological Footprint of the average person (‘ef’) is calculated by adding up all of the ecosystem areas appropriated (aai) by all purchased items (n) in his or her annual shopping basket or consumption goods and services. The ecological footprint (EFp) of a study population can now be obtained by multiplying the average per-capita footprint by population size (N) as follows: EFp=N (ef), Wakernagel and Rees, “Our Ecological Footprint”, 1996. Therefore, before sustainable development initiatives aimed at the “Built- Environment” can proceed, the Ecological Footprint of a particular population must be calculated and analyzed. It is at this level of analysis that the birth of a sustainable and livable human community, may or may not begin. At this point, it is instructive to consider the importance of “Linear Throughput” as seen in Figure 3. As the basis for a Livable Human Community, one must consider the mechanism of “Linear Throughput” This mechanism controls the throughput of low-entropy energy and matter, which sustains and drives the Circular flows of exchange value, yet is invisible to conventional economic analysis (William E. Rees, University of British Columbia). We see in this mechanism the laws of “Thermodynamics” at work. By acknowledging and understanding the role of Linear Throughput in human settlements, the basis on which old and new human settlements must operate, provide guidance for both energy and materials use. This understanding informs what is meant by what is often referred to as Sustainable Development. It is instructive to note, that the idea of Sustainable Development is not a new idea, as some would choose to believe. It is in fact, an idea, which can be seen, for example, in the many villages found throughout Europe and England. Such places are often cited, as comfortable and easy places in which to live. The following is a spatial organizing scheme after Chisholm, 1968. This simplified model of sustainability, demonstrates that there are certain basics in sustainable development that must not be forgotten, as one moves up the complexity scale of the Built-Environment. In this regard, the details may change, but basic principles of Sustainable Development, leading to a livable human community remain. To this point, Trevor Rowley states in “Villages Irreversible Linear Throughput Figure 3: The linear throughput of low-entropy energy and matter (upper part of diagram) sustains the economy and drive the Circular flows of exchange value, lower part of diagram), yet is invisible to conven- tional economic analysis, (William E. Rees, University of British Columbia). Figure 4: Village location. This diagram shows the five basic elements in a primitive village Economy. The numbers assigned to each of the above elements represent a notional weighting which reflects, the relative importance of each in the siting of a human settlement. Thus according to this model, it is far more important to be close to a source of potable water than a source of building material. The figures may be considered hypothetical and will vary in space and time (after Chisholm 1968). Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. spatium 5 in the Landscape”, It is not possible to examine a village in isolation from its surrounding fields, woods, commons, and streams. Thus, we should always be aware that we are examining only a part of a much larger matrix, and that we cannot hope to understand a settlement without relating it to its economic hinterland.[2] Thus, the villages of which Rowley refers, were sustainable within a basic paradigm, because the people who lived, worked, and played with these places, derived their daily sustenance needs for food, fuel, and fiber from the geographical area that made up the village and its commons. Consequently, very little was imported from elsewhere to meet daily sustenance needs. However, as the world changed around them, guiding principles were abandoned, and ultimately forgotten by the leaders of the industrial age and beyond. Only in latter decades of the 20th century were these forgotten principles of organic urban design, siting, urban form, adapted space, and appropriate economics rediscovered. A UNIFIED FIELD THEORY OF ADAPTED SPACE As to methods, there may be a million and then some, but principles are few. The man who grasps principles can successfully select his own methods, ignoring principles, is sure to have trouble. Ralph Waldo Emerson A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space is a recombinant theoretical construct, because it seeks to unify the micro and macro scales of human settlement and activity. This construct examines afresh, the antecedent geographical and urban planning ideas of “Sequent Occupance” (Whittlesey, 1929 and Meyer, 1935), “Landscape Ecology” (Barrows, 1922), “Culture History” (Sauer, 1925), and the “Spatial Adaptation Behavior” (Whyte, 1980) of humans, as human and cultural modifiers of the humanized environments of place and of environment. A Unified Field Theory of Adapted space also seeks to cognitively capture and make intellectually apprehendable, the impact of cultural inflections of people on discrete places (people acting on space, and space acting upon people) within a regional context, which resulted in a “Unified Paradigm”. A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space underpins the Ecological Footprint of people and their consequent importance for the sustainability of human and other biophysical communities, as interacting elements within the biosphere and geosphere. Ecological Footprints which are functions of the consumption of biophysical goods, and represent the dynamics of how, why, and the means by with people adapt or modify real space on Earth, to meet their physical, emotional, and intellectual needs. These needs, it is known, lead to the consumption of many things; among them are the basics of food, fuel, and fiber. Thus, an understanding of how real people adapt real space in real time begins to emerge. A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space is a recombinant theoretical construct because it unifies the micro and macro scales of human settlement and spatial modification activity. Ultimately, A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space suggests that we must go beyond just the Ecological Footprint, if there is to be a successful understanding of complex man- land interactions. Thus, this analysis, leads to solutions of the great human and associated environmental problems, now confronting us. These problems include those of population (its growth and distribution), natural resources adequacy, livable living space, transportation, clean air and water, genetically modified foods, and sustainable energy availability and its use. The notion of “Adapted Space” and the theory to support such an idea, evolved over a number of years from 1989 onwards. The goal of this research was to explore and test such an idea. The fieldwork for this research took place principally in the United States, with additional research that was carried out in Southern Mexico and Central Asia. This research endeavored to answer basic questions concerning how and why people (environmental-users) and groups of people (institutions) modified space for personal and collective purposes, and at what scale, and the consequent environmental impacts. The work of William H. Whyte was most helpful in the visual documentation of real people in real time, adapting and modifying real space for both individual and group purposes in meeting specific user-needs. Before Whyte’s seminal work, “The Social Life of Small Urban Spaces” (1980), an understanding of the mechanisms of spatial adaptation was not widely known or understood. Whyte demonstrated with his unique research method that people are constantly adapting small spaces and the functional linkages between them to meet their needs for a livable environment. Time-lapse photography was utilized throughout New York City to visually confirm complex human activity on a daily basis. Study of thousands of rolls of film revealed answers to questions about spatial use that city planners had sought for many years. A careful study of Whyte’s work was contributory influence on the development of “A Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space”. PUBLIC POLICY It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his job depends on not understanding it. Upton Sinclair The schematic in Figure 5 can be likened to a wiring diagram. It makes concrete the process by which sustainable and livable human communities meet the needs of people and environment. It specifically addresses public policy within the context of alternative scenarios for sustainable development. This schematic has been designed to facilitate the concrete exploration of planning, implementation, and public policy formation. Axiomatically, Science must precede public policy formation. However, it often proceeds in the reverse order. Public policy concerning Sustainable Development and Livable Human Communities must be in accord. Policy if properly formulated benefits all stakeholders with regard to a particular problem or issue. However, for effective policy to become reality, it requires of a given society, openness, transparency, and democratic institutions. There must, therefore, be a balance between the public good and private greed, concerning the use of space, resources, and the application of economics. Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. 6 spatium We, you and I, live in the world, which is a truth that each of us must confront, concerning the important questions facing our communities, and whether or not to attempt change. Once this mind-set is engaged, then practical policies can be informed, based on empirical evidence, scientifically assessed. Abstraction must be eschewed in the cause of practical public decision-making. Likewise, public policy formation should not make a fetish of the practical aspects of the policy formation process, but enfold within its corpus of thought, well reasoned arguments, with a suitable ethical foundation. To this point, Christian Barry and Sanjay Reddy in “Public Policy Analysis Today and Tomorrow”, August 25th, 2005 state that: If we adequately appreciate the simple truth, we will be led to deliberate differently about public policy and institutional design. We will insist equally on the necessity of practicality and the importance of morality in practical reasoning. The reasoning style of deliberation is nothing other that public policy analysis correctly done.[3] Regardless the school of public policy analysis to which one subscribes, the first requirement, as previously indicated, is a civil society that values openness and transparency. A Policy- Formation “Milieu” must be created, which is non-threatening. This will be a milieu, designed to draw into the policy-formation environment, all relevant stakeholders. This will assure that grassroots, practical policies, designed promote the implementation of Sustainable Development, and which, will lead to insightful design and development decisions, in the cause of “Livable Human Communities”. CONCLUSION We must not be afraid of dreaming the seemingly impossible if we want the seemingly impossible to become a reality. Vaclav Havel Sustainable Development and Livable Human Communities, as proffered is this paper are inextricably linked. Ecological Footprint Analysis and a Unified Field Theory of Adapted Space offer a dynamically powerful analytical suite for assessing and solving Sustainable Development Problems. It recognizes that the overarching goal of Sustainable Development is to maintain our community populations and institutions across future generations, without degrading the carrying capacity and utility or our capital stocks, essential infrastructure and the human living environment. Therefore, before sustainable development initiatives aimed at the built-environment can proceed, the Ecological Footprint of a particular population must be calculated and analyzed. It is at this level of analysis that the birth of a sustainable and livable human community begins. Consequently, the public policies that flow from this understanding make livable human communities a practical reality. Finally, the following, admittedly, homespun maxim of the author is offered as follows: “If the project, initiative or development project will not improve the lives of ordinary people by a single crust of bread, the proposed project or development initiative must be returned to the drawing-board”. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to thank Dr. Pavle Anđus, School of Biology-University of Belgrade, who brought my research to the attention of the Institute of Architecture and Urban & Regional Planning of Serbia. I would be ungrateful indeed, if I did not also thank Professor Veljko Milutinović, Department of Computer Engineering-School of Electrical Engineering-University of Belgrade, for his continuing interest in my research. END NOTES: [1] Wackernegel, Mathis and William Rees, Our Ecological Footprint: Reducing Human Impact on the Earth, 1996. New Society Publishers (Gabriola Island, B.C. Canada VOR 1X0, p. 45. [2] Rowley, Trevor, Villages in the Landscape- (Archaeology in the Field Series) 1978. J. M. Dent& Sons Ltd. (London, Toronto, Melbourne), pp. 26-27. [3] Barry, Christian (Senior Research Fellow, Centre for Applied Philosophy and Public Ethics) and Sanjay Reddy (Assistant Professor A Suggested Sustainable Development Functional-Relational Schematic for Sustainability and Public Policy SUSTAINABL E DEVELOPM ENT SCIENCE HUM AN DIMENSIONS RESEARC H Hu man Sphere (People Acting upon Biosphere & Geosphere) Biosphere & Geosphere (Source of Biophysical Goods) Public Policy (Resulting from (Alternative Scenarios f or Sustainable Development Implementation Mechanics (Means and Methods) Ecological Footprint Analysis (Analytical Technique) A Unif ied Field Theory of Adapted Space (Underpinning Theory) Human Behavior (Observational Assessments) Resource Management (Administrative Modalit ies) Hu man-Environment Interf ace (Where People and Environment Meet) SUSTAI NABILITY (The Goal) Figure 5: Theory, Mechanics, Applications, and Public Policy for Sustainability. Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. spatium 7 of Economics, Barnard College at Columbia University), Public Policy Analysis Today and Tomorrow, August 25th, 2005. FIGURES: Figure 1: Village Green, formerly Baldwin Hills Village. Figure 2: Transit Village, Portland, Oregon USA. Figure 3: Linear Ecological Throughput by Dr. William Rees. Figure 4: Basic Village Spatial Scheme, After Chisholm, 1968. Figure 5: A Suggested Sustainable Development Functional Relational Schematic for Sustainability. TABLES Table 1: Ecological Footprint And Biocapacity Data-2003. References [1] Barrett, J., Vallack, H., Jones, A., Haq G., 2002. A material flow analysis and Ecological Footprint of York. Stockholm, Stockholm Environment Institute. [2] Catton, W. (18 August, 1986). Carrying capacity and the limits to freedom. Paper prepared for Social Ecology Session 1, Xl World Congress of Sociology. New Delhi, India. [3] Haberl, H. Erb, K. Krausmann, F. 2001. How to calculate and interpret ecological footprints for long periods of time: The case of Austria 1926-1995. Ecological Economics, Vol. 38 (1), pp. 25-45. [4] Lenzen, Manfred, Mathis Wackernagel, Diana Deumling, Bonnie Lauck, 2005. The Ecological Footprint of Victoria. ISA University of Sydney, Global Footprint Network. EPA Victoria. [5] Loh, J. and Wackernagel, M. (ed.), 2004 Living Planet Report 2004. Gland, Switzerland, Worldwide Fund for Nature International (WWF), Global Footprint Network, UNEP World Conservation Monitoring Centre, Gland Switzerland. [6] Luck, M., Jenerette, G. D., Wu, J., Grimm, N., 2001. The urban funnel model and the spatially heterogeneous Ecological Footprint. Ecosystems, Vol. (4) pp. 782-796. [7] Rees, W.E. and Wackernagel, M., 1999. Monetary Analysis: Turning a Blind Eye on Sustainability. Ecological Economics, Vol. 29, pp. 47-52. August 2004). [8] Rees, W.E. 2006. Ecological Footprints and Bio-Capacity: Essential Elements in Sustainability Assessment. Chapter 9 in Jo Dewulf and Herman Van Langenhove (eds). Renewables-Based Technology: Sustainability Assessment, pp. 207-226. Chichester, UK: John Wiley and Sons. [9] Rees, W. E. 2003. Understanding Urban Ecosystems: An Ecological Economics Perspective. Chapter in Alan Berkowitz et al. Eds. Under-standing Urban Ecosystems. New York: Springer-Verlag. [10] Wackernagel, Mathis, Dan Moran, Sahm White, Michael Murray, 2004, Ecological Footprint Accounts for Advancing Sustainability: Measurng Human Demand on Nature. Chapter 12 in Phil Lawn (editor) 2005. [11] Mathis Wackernagel, Dan Moran, Sahm White, Michael Murray, 2004, Ecological Footprint Accounts for Advancing Sustainability: Measuring Human Demand on Nature, Chapter 12 in Phil Lawn (editor) 2005. Sustainable Development Indicators and Public Policy: Assessing the Policy-Guiding Value of Sustainable Development Indicators. Edward Elgar. [12] Wackernagel, M., Ecological Footprint and Appropriated Carrying Capacity: A Tool for Planning Toward Sustainability. 1994. Ph.D. Thesis. School of Community and Regional Planning. The University of British Columbia. Generated by Foxit PDF Creator © Foxit Software http://www.foxitsoftware.com For evaluation only. 
work_czadqijwt5ctdf5lwagffei7ju	----	The Emily Dickinson Journal, Volume 2, Number 1, Spring 1993, pp. 22-46 (Article) DOI: 10.1353/edj.0.0168 http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/edj/summary/v002/2.1.denman.html KAMILLA DENMAN Emily Dickinson s Volcanic Punctuation What a hazard an Accent is! When I think of the Hearts it has scutded or sunk, I almost fear to lift my Hand to so much as a punctuation. merson, in his famous lecture on "The American Scholar," declared: ' "The human mind ... is one central fire, which flaming now out of the lips of Etna, lightens the capes of Sicily; and, now out of the throat of Vesuvius, illuminates the towers and vineyards of Naples. It is one light which beams out of a thousand stars. It is one soul which animates all men."2 The volcano that animates Dickinson's writing, however, is a far more violent force, an image of devastating linguistic expression erupting out of silence: "Vesuvius dont talk — Etna — dont — one of them — said a syllable — a thousand years ago, and Pompeii heard it, and hid forever — " (L 233). Dickinson's volcano emits not only light but consuming lava: A still — Volcano — Life — That flickered in the night — When it was dark enough to do Without erasing sight — A quiet — Earthquake Style — Too subtle to suspect By natures this side Naples — The North cannot detect Kamilla Denman The Solemn — Torrid — Symbol — The lips that never lie — Whose hissing Corals part — and shut — And Cities — ooze away — In contrast to Emerson's image of benevolent spiritual enlightenment, Dick- inson's volcano consumes, burns, and destroys. The volcano is an unpre- dictable, subversive force, more appalling when it erupts because it has been so long silent. Yet the subtlety of the volcano persists even in the eruption, which is only a hiss, and in the destruction, which is an oozing away. Far from being limited by its constraining rock, the volcano's power of expression is so great that it can swallow up the exterior that seems to confine it. As such, it offers an image of Dickinson writing from within the confines of her society, exploding the language by which her culture seeks to limit and define her. The volcano, though phallic in shape, ejaculating lava, has a feminine component, too: its vaginal and oral lips dispense symbols that scorch the phallus from within and devour the surroundings above and amidst which it has erected itself. The volcano thus evokes the terrifying image of the woman writing from within the male organ(ization) itself. Dickinson's disruption of social struc- tures, like her poetic image of the volcano, is primarily a linguistic one. The volcano destroys cities that are, like conventional language and grammar, constructions of civilization. But just as the fiery lava and ash also resculpt the landscape and enrich the soil, Dickinson's disruption of conventional dis- course also reshapes and enriches language. When Dickinson described the effect of attempting to impose order on her own poetry, she expressed it in volcanic terms: "when I try to organize — my little Force explodes — and leaves me bare and charred — " (L 271). The publication history of Dickinson's poems chronicles many subsequent at- tempts by others to contain her explosive language, and nowhere is this more marked than in the editing of Dickinson's punctuation. Editors usually turn to her punctuation as an area where they can confidently bring some order to her enigmatic poetry. Their assumption is that all writers ought to subscribe to conventional standards of punctuation, and when authors violate these laws, editors must enforce them. Consequently Dickinson's punctuation is either obscured in earlier editions and made to conform to conventional rules or displayed as a curiosity in later editions and then condemned for deviance. 23 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 These editorial practices have sparked a lively debate among critics, some of whom seek to rescue Dickinson by imaging her as an eccentric transcen- dentalist in opposition to the grammatical reprobate whose punctuation editors have both displayed and sought to correct. In the more traditional editorial approach, John Crowe Ransom gallandy suggests that the editor of the next edition "will respect [her] capitalizations, I think, even while he is removing them," a statement that (especially in the context of a male critic discussing a female writer) is not too far from the old adage, "I'll still respect you in the morning."6 On the other side of the debate, in the musical and elocutionary theories propounded by such critics as Thomas H. Johnson, Brita Lindberg-Seyersted, Edith Perry Stamm, and Susan Howe, Dickinson's punc- tuation is lifted into the lofty realm of para-language and relegated to a function secondary to semantics and social discourse, a realm where conventional meanings are consequently safe from Dickinson's volcanic disruption. I will argue that Dickinson's punctuation is neither a transcendent, purely extra-semantic effect nor a careless transgression of grammatical rules but an integral part of her exploration of language, used deliberately to disrupt conventional grammatical patterns and create new relationships between words; to resist stasis in linguistic expression (whether in the conventions of printing or in her own evolving writing); to create musical and rhythmical effects; and to affirm the silent and the nonverbal, the spaces between words that lend resonance and emphasis to poetry. In the punctuation of her poetry, Dickinson creates a haunting, subversive, impelling harmony of language, wordless sound (emotional tonality and musical rhythms), and silence. Like songs set to music, Dickinson's poems are accompanied by a punctuation of varying pauses, tones, and rhythms that extend, modify, and emancipate her words, while pointing to the silent places from which language erupts. Punctuation has evolved as a system of rules and principles to establish the relationship ofwords to one another in a sentence, otherwise arbitrary, and as a means of bringing tone and emphasis to language. The OED defines punctuation as "The practice, art, method, or system of inserting points or 'stops' to aid the sense, in writing or printing; division of written or printed matter into sentences, clauses, etc. by means of points or stops. The ordinary sense."7 Dickinson's definition of a poet, however, is in direct opposition to the idea of ordinary sense: 24 Kamilla Denman This was a Poet — It is That Distills amazing sense From ordinary Meanings — (P 448) Part of Dickinson's own power to distill amazing sense from ordinary language lies in her innovative use of punctuation. Editors and critics often lament the posthumous publication of Dickin- son's poetry, since it leaves so many unanswered questions, while others have used this fact to create elaborate speculations about Dickinson's intentions. But not all of Dickinson's poems were published posthumously. Dickinson's single comment about punctuation and publication was made following the publication of her poem "The Snake" in the Springfield Republican in 1866. She wrote to her editor-mentor, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, to explain that she had not deceived him in declaring her reluctance to publish: "Lest you meet my Snake and suppose I deceive it was robbed of me — defeated too of the third line by the punctuation. The third and fourth were one — I had told you I did not print — " (L 316). Though the reference to the punctuation is almost an aside, the complaint is clear. In the fascicles, the lines Dickinson mentions were written: You may have met Him — did you not His notice sudden is — The Springfield Republican punctuated them: You may have met him — did you not? His notice instant is. Cristanne Miller claims that if Dickinson objected to a single editorial alteration in one poem, then she would certainly have objected to all other punctuation changes in her work.10 But the Springfield Republican made many changes in the punctuation of "The Snake" of which Dickinson did not complain. Capitalization was entirely regularized; stanzas were made uniform; dashes were changed to commas, semi-colons, and periods; punctuation was added where Dickinson used none and vice versa; and two words were 25 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 changed. Traditionally, editors are far more reluctant to change words than to edit punctuation; yet Dickinson let the verbal substitutions pass without comment. Why did she complain only of the one editorial change? To my knowledge, only one critic has attempted to explain Dickinson's protest. Brita Lindberg-Seyersted suggests that Dickinson's punctuation has a purely rhythmic, rhetorical purpose. Unable to make grammatical sense of the punctuation, she assumes it must have an entirely extra-semantic function.11 However, the effect here is more a case of counter-semantics than extra-seman- tics. The Springfield Republican editor punctuates the lines logically, conversa- tionally, and safely, keeping the "you" fenced off from the snake by a comma, evoking the tone of a casual aside. The sense here is, "You may have met him, didn't you? He gives instant warning of his presence." The sense as Dickinson intended it is something more like, "You may have met him, and if you didn't glimpse him at first, he quickly gives notice of his presence." Dickinson's punctuation pulls the "you" alliteratively ("not/notice") and hissingly ("His notice sudden is") into the same clause with the snake, leaving no space for breath or distance. This effect is verbally echoed in the closing lines: "tighter Breathing / And Zero at the Bone." Dickinson's punctuation breaks down the conventional, conversational groupings of words as well as the safe distance between speaker and snake.12 While Dickinson certainly did use punctuation for musical, rhythmic, and emphatic purposes, perhaps more than any other poet, her pointing system also sought to disrupt and reassemble the relation- ships between words, volcanic fashion. At the time of her most disruptive use of punctuation in the early 1860s, she wrote in exasperation to Samuel Bowles: "The old words are numb — and there ant any new ones" (L 252). In the absence of new diction, Dickinson sought to redefine words through dislocating marks of punctuation. In dis- rupting punctuation, Dickinson reveals the open nature of language that conventional punctuation seeks to regulate and obscure and makes new groupings and relationships between words apart from linguistic conventions. Thus her punctuation has a semantic as well as an extra-semantic function. Charles F. Meyer says that the essential function of punctuation can be summed up under the rubrics of separation and enclosure.13 Words that belong together are enclosed by punctuation and separated fro m other words.! Without changing or moving a single word in a sentence, William Klein, in 26 Kamilla Denman Why We Punctuate (1916), shows how the insertion of two tiny marks of punctuation can make a sentence mean the opposite of its original sense: The prisoner said the witness was a convicted thief. . . . . . ι s The prisoner, said the witness, was a convicted thief. In the first, the witness is implicated by the prisoner; in the second, the implication is reversed. This is no fine, scholarly distinction. While Dickinson did not go so far as to make words mean their logical opposite, she did disrupt conventional arrangements to create emotional and psychological effects, as in the lines of "The Snake" above. A more extended example of this process appears in poem 341: After great pain, a formal feeling comes — The Nerves sit ceremonious, like Tombs — The stiff Heart questions was it He, that bore, And Yesterday, or Centuries before? The Feet, mechanical, go round — Of Ground, or Air, or Ought — A Wooden way Regardless grown, A Quartz contentment, like a stone — This is the Hour of Lead — Remembered, if oudived, As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow — First — Chill — then Stupor — then the letting go — The poem begins with words conventionally grouped (though the punctuation marks Dickinson used were not conventional), but by the third line, the grammar of the poem begins to disintegrate with the introduction of an additional comma, leaving only the iambic pentameter as a stabilizing if relentless rhythmic force throughout the first stanza.16 The first line describes the psychological state philosophically, the second describes it imagistically, and the two make an impressive epigram. But Dickinson is not content to end the poem here: she must explore the state from a more intimate and vulnerable standpoint. She is not content to recollect emotion in tranquillity, nor to 27 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 describe it in eloquent, complete sentences. The introduction of the subject, "He," causes the clear ideas and images of the first two lines to crumble into disconnected images and fragmented phrases. The comma that follows the word, "He," is the first signal of the breakdown in the syntax, separating predicate nominative from its relative pronoun and verb, and person from action. The disruptive comma also creates a temporal dislocation that perme- ates the poem: the present thought is not completed (the object of "bore" is lacking), as the speaker unsuccessfully seeks to locate the incomplete action in past time. The present experience described in the second stanza is a mechani- cal, cyclical treadmill, while the past of the first stanza stretches out vaguely and endlessly. In the final stanza, past and present are confused in the line, "Freezing persons, recollect the Snow." The present participle evokes a present condition, but the snow that is causing the freezing is disconcertingly thrown into the chasm of the past by the verb, "recollect." The experience of freezing is so intensely present that even the snow that causes it, like the "He" who bore the pain, seems to belong in the past. Temporal dislocation in the content of the poem is integrally related to its syntactic and metrical form. Generally, the order of words in temporal sequence establishes linguistic relationships from which meanings emerge. In this poem, the temporal disruption of the speaker's psyche extends to the syntax and meter, with incomplete sentences and sudden shifts from pentame- ter to tetrameter to trimeter to dimeter and back. Other phrases in the poem initially seem to form complete sentences but then unravel in subsequent lines that confuse the original meaning, as in the last stanza. There are no periods to mark off any thought as complete, nor even to mark the poem as a complete thought: the final sentence is completely fragmented by dashes. Alan Helms, in his incisive reading of the punctuation in this poem, says that the dashes in the last line approximate the experience of freezing by slowing down the tempo. The final verb, "letting go," is followed by a dash that hangs the poem and the experience described in the poem over a visual and aural precipice of frozen silence. Were the sentences to be made complete and the poem conventionally punctuated, the essence of the experience it describes would be lost. Clearly, much of Dickinson's power in evoking psychological states lies in her disregard for conventional rules of grammar and punctuation, as well as conventional rules of poetic meter, line, and rhyme. 28 Kamilla Denman Such disregard inevitably evoked editorial correction and critical com- ment. Dickinson's belatedly revealed punctuation in Johnson's 1955 vari- orium edition caused a critical furor in which R W. Franklin has had the last word. He roundly attacks all theories giving significance to Dickinson's punctuation in musical, mythopoetic, elocutionary, or any other terms: "Fa- miliarity with the manuscripts should show that the capitals and dashes were merely a habit of handwriting and that Emily Dickinson used them inconsis- tently, without system . . . without special significance." To support his argument, he shows how Dickinson used the same style of capitalization and punctuation in letters, in copying excerpts from books, and in handwritten recipes. He then ridicules theories of Dickinson's punctuation by applying them to a recipe for Cocoa Nut Cake that Dickinson penned in 1881 : If we follow John Crowe Ransom's theory, the capitals are Emily's "way of conferring dignity" upon the ingredients of Mrs. Carmichael's cake, or are her "mythopoetic device" for pushing Butter, Flour, 6 Eggs, and a Cocoa Nut (grated) into "the fertile domain of myth." At the same time, according to Charles R. Anderson, we are asked to use the punctuation here as "a new system of musical notation for reading" the recipe. Or, applying Miss Stamm's theory, Emily Dickinson has not only got the recipe, but has indicated how one is to declaim it. But Dickinson's single comment about punctuation can provide a baseline theory that will satisfy even the rigorous critical demands of Mrs. Carmichael's recipe. In her comment on the publication of "The Snake," Dickinson says that words not separated by punctuation are "one." Dickinson used punctua- tion to create units of words, words that were one, enclosed within marks of punctuation and separated from other words by these marks. These units were not immutable, as is clear from the differing punctuation in various extant versions of the same poems. Dickinson's manuscripts show that she grouped and regrouped her units of speech, never allowing words to remain static or in static relationship to other words. The reasons that words belong together are multiple. Words can be unconventionally joined to disrupt conventional patterns and meaning or separated against grammatical convention to explore the inherent dissociation and ambiguous nature of language. Word groupings can communicate heightened tone and emotional force, as in the highly 29 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 charged poems of 1861, written with more disrupting dashes than in any other year. Rhythmic, tonal, imagistic, or aural demands of the poetry can require unconventional groupings. Or words can simply be the ingredients of a cocoa nut cake, separated in order to be gathered, broken, beaten, combined, and baked in order to create a new whole. The recipe is not such a ridiculous analogy after all. In this constant process of separation and recombination, Dickinson not only subverted conventional language through punctuation, she continually submitted her own language to the same disruptive process. She was her own rigorous, if unconventional editor. Critics have been reluctant to see changes in Dickinson's poetry over time, generally claiming that Dickinson's style is static. As Timothy Morris says: "It has become a given of Dickinson criticism that the poet's style never changed."19 For example, Sharon Cameron writes: "If we could observe changes in the style of the poems, it might be easier to arrive at textual decisions. But, in fact, as most critics agree, there is no development in the canon of poems. The experiences recorded by these poems are insular ones, subject to endless repetition."20 Morris, however, goes on to challenge this idea in relation to Dickinson's use of enjambment and rhyme. A study of the patterns of punctuation in Dickinson's poetry over time also reveals apractice that was far from static.21 Dickinson's exploration of language took her from conventional punctuation in the earliest poems through a prolific period where punctuation pulled apart every normal relationship of the parts of speech, to a time of grim redefinition punctuated by weighty periods, on to a final stage where language and punctuation are minimal but intensely powerful.22 While the themes of Dickinson's poems remained constant throughout her life — love, death, nature, and religion — the variations in punctuation over time create a marked difference in the tone of the poems. Punctuation not only guides meaning, it adds expression and affect to language. William Livingston Klein illustrates: John has gone home. John has gone home? John has gone home! 30 Kamilla Denman Here, variant punctuation of identical words evokes three entirely different speakers, and even three different interpretations of the sentence. The first statement simply informs us that John has gone home; the second indicates doubt regarding the statement; and the third expresses strong emotion regard- ing John's departure — but whether the emotion is one of surprise, disap- proval, horror, triumph, fear, joy, or grief cannot be determined apart from a larger context. While Dickinson's earliest poetry was conventionally punctuated, by 1858 she is consistently using highly individualized punctuation to create an intensity of tone in her poems. The overuse of the exclamation mark is the most pronounced punctuation feature of this period and occurs in letters as well as in poems. Describing a scene to Dr. and Mrs. J. G. Holland, Dickinson writes: "My window overlooks the wharf! One yacht, and a man-of-war; two brigs and a schooner!" (L 195). Here, she communicates her enthusiasm for her surroundings through punctuation alone. Poem 92 provides a brief example of the same overuse: My friend must be a Bird — Because it flies! Mortal, my friend must be, Because it dies! Barbs has it, like a Bee! Ah, curious friend! Thou puzzlest me! The general mood in 1858-1859 is one of intensity, whether arising from joy, pain, playful satire, or exultant discovery, and Dickinson relies heavily on the exclamation mark to create this mood. The exclamation mark is a vertical, phallic figure, connected with the certainty of "Eureka!" and with erections, steeples, and religious faith. The verb, "exclaim," from which the mark derives its name, has various meanings. According to the OED, it signifies "the act of exclaiming or crying out; the loud articulate expression of pain, anger, surprise, etc.; clamour, vociferation; an emphatic or vehement speech or sentence; the action of loudly complaining or protesting."2 Dickinson's early poetry is certainly filled with exclamations of pain and protest, as well as moments of surprise and exultation. There is also ásense of dramatic intention and control 31 The Emily Dickinson Journal, Vol. II, No. 1 in these early poems: so many final exclamatory lines come like the unveiling of a surprise that the author has known from the start. By contrast, the poems of 1860-1863 are less controlled and directed, as the punctuation indicates. By 1862, the exclamation mark is increasingly rare. In this period, Dickinson becomes anarchic in her use of the dash, both in terms of its replacement of almost every other mark of punctuation and in its placement between almost every one of the parts of speech, as the following poems illustrate: If He Dissolve— then — there is nothing— more— Eclipse— at Midnight— It was dark— before— (P236,ca. 1861) Read — Sweet — how others — strove — Till we — are stouter — What they — renounced — Till we — are less afraid — (P 260, ca, 1861) This anarchic practice occurs in letters as well as poems. A letter written to Samuel Bowles about February 1861 reads: "To count you as ourselves — except sometimes more tenderly — as now — when you are ill — and we — the haler of the two — and so I bring the Bond — we sign so many times — for you to read, when Chaos comes — or Treason — or Decay — still witnessing for Morning" (L 229). Unlike the exclamation mark, the dash that dominates the prolific period is a horizontal stroke, on the level of this world. It both reaches out and holds at bay. Its origins in ellipsis connect it semantically to planets and cycles (rather than linear time and sequential grammatical progression), as well as to silence and the unexpressed. But to dash is also "to strike with violence so as to break into fragments; to drive impetuously forth or out, cause to rush together; to affect or qualify with an element of a different strain thrown into it; to destroy, ruin, confound, bring to nothing, frustrate, spoil; to put down on paper, throw off, or sketch, with hasty and unpremeditated vigour; to draw a pen vigorously 32 Kamilla Denman through writing so as to erase it; [is] used as a euphemism for 'damn,' or as a kind of verbal imprecation; [or is] one of the two signals (the other being the dot) which in various combinations make up the letters of the Morse alpha- bet."2 Dickinson uses the dash to fragment language and to cause unrelated words to rush together; she qualifies conventional language with her own different strains; and she confounds editorial attempts to reduce her "dashed off" jottings to a "final" version. Not only does she draw lines through her own drafts but also through the linguistic conventions of her society, and her challenges to God are euphemistic imprecations against conventional religion. Even the allusion to the Morse alphabet is not entirely irrelevant: through her unconventional use of punctuation, particularly the dash, Dickinson creates a poetry whose interpretation becomes a process of decoding the way each fragment signals meaning. Dickinson's transition from a dominant use of the exclamation mark to a preference for the dash accompanies her shift from ejaculatory poems, which seem outcries aimed with considerable dramatic effect at God or others, to poems where the energies exist more in the relationships between words and between the poet and her words. In this intensely prolific period, Dickinson's excessive use of dashes has been interpreted variously as the result of great stress and intense emotion, as the indication of a mental breakdown,27 and as a mere idiosyncratic, female habit.28 Though these speculations are all subject to debate, it is clear that in the early 1860s Dickinson conducted her most intense exploration of language and used punctuation to disrupt conventional linguistic relations, whether in an attempt to express inexpressible psychologi- cal states or purely to vivify language. Whatever Dickinson's motivation may have been, readers have found her excessive use of dashes in the poems of this period somewhat jarring. Critics who complain of Dickinson's punctuation and those who defend it alike remark on its aural and rhythmic effects. Alan Helms likens the dynamic interplay of music and silence to poetry and punctuation.29 Given the rhyth- mic function of punctuation in poetry, it is not surprising that so many critics have posited a musical theory of Dickinson's punctuation. Whereas Dickin- son certainly characterizes her writing in volcanic terms, more often she often equates her poetry with music, identifying herself as a singer and a robin ("I shall keep singing! / . . . I — with my Redbreast — / And my Rhymes — " 33 The Emily Dickinson Journal, Vol. II, No. 1 P 250). Although the two images seem quite disparate, in poem 861 they connect: Split the Lark — and you'll find the Music — Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled — Scantily dealt to the Summer Morning Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old. Loose the Flood — you shall find it patent — Gush after Gush, reserved for you — Scarlet Experiment! Sceptic Thomas! Now, do you doubt that your Bird was true? Like volcanic lava or the waters of a flood, the music of the bird resides within, and its expression is an overflowing of inner essence. But whereas volcanic fire supplants existing structures only on rare occasions, and then on a grand scale, the bird's "silver Principle / Supplant [s] all the rest" on a smaller, daily scale (P 1084). It is important to note that Dickinson is not a musical poet in the purely lyrical sense of the word: she saw herself as a translator of music into language: Better — than Music! For I — who heard it — I was used — to the Birds — before — This — was different — 'Twas Translation — Of all tunes I knew — and more — 'Twas'nt contained — like other stanza — No one could play it — die second time — But the Composer — perfect Mozart — Perish with him — that Keyless Rhyme! But — I was telling a Tune — I heard — Not such a strain — the Church — baptizes — When the last Saint — goes up the Aisles — Not such a stanza splits the silence — When the Redemption strikes her Bells — Let me not spill — it's smallest cadence — Humming — for promise — when alone — 34 Kamilla Denman Humming — until my faint Rehearsal — Drop into tune — around the Throne — (P 503) In songs, music expands the space and pitch in which words are uttered; it lends affect and emphasis to language; it can undercut or underline the words it accompanies; it can blend words or dislocate them from their context. Clearly, it functions in much the same way as punctuation in Dickinson's poetry. To look at Dickinson's punctuation purely as a disruption of language, then, is to miss this musical dimension, where the semantic and rhythmic disruptions are smoothed through an implied melody. Given the limited form of the hymn or ballad stanza, punctuation provides an important temporal variation within the relendess rhythms of the meter, but it is often a variation that readers find disruptive or jarring. Critics are fond ofpointing out how Dickinson went beyond thehymnody and ballads of the period in her use of common meter, but a look at the music of nineteenth-century hymns is elucidating with regard to her punctuation. Her meter, used in the ballads, hymns, and nursery rhymes of the period, is essentially a musical one. Dickinson's meter is all too often connected to hymns and then divorced from the music that would have accompanied those hymns. Any nineteenth-century ballad meter hymn read as a poem sounds monoto- nous, mechanical, and trite. But when it is sung, the music temporally expands the words, often allotting several notes to a single word; and it adds texture through variations in tone and pitch. The four-part harmonies deepen this texture and create multipleways ofsinging and experiencing the words through music. When sung to any of the tunes that accompanied the hymns of Isaac Watts and John Newton (such as Handel's music for "Joy to the World" or Haydn's for "Glorious Things of Thee Are Spoken"), Dickinson's poems take on a completely different texture, so that the punctuation works with, not against, the meter. A similar effect is produced by the application of nine- teenth-century ballad tunes to Dickinson's poems.30 All too often, Dickinson scholars read the poems in silence or aloud at the speed of nursery rhymes, rather than in the musical context that liberates common meter from the mechanical and the banal. Read quickly, the poems seem metrically disrupted 35 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 by the punctuation. But when the poems are read at the tempo at which metrically similar hymns would have been sung, the rhythmic disruption vanishes. While there is no evidence that Dickinson had contemporary music in mind when she wrote her poems, her repeated references to herself as a singer and the hymns in which her culture was steeped mean that this possibility cannot be excluded. Since the publication of her poems at the end of the nineteenth century, composers have been fully aware of the musical potential of her poetry, as evinced by the frequency with which her poems have been set to music.31 In musical terms, one could say that after 1863, Dickinson's poetry moves from allegro to andante, for there is a distinct shift in the diction, tone, and punctuation of these later poems. Images of spring, summer, birds, and flowers are largely replaced by wintry images of wind, thunder, lightning, clouds, and frost. Instead of views toward a limitless future, there is a distinct sense of loss and bitter nostalgia (see, for example, poems 744,755, and 753)· In this period, Dickinson's assault on language takes the form of redefiningwords rather than the disruption of syntax through punctuation. Many poems fall under the rubric of definitional poems, beginning, for example, with the words "Love is," "Time is," "Power is," or "Risk is."32 The more sober mood is marked by sparser and heavier punctuation: periods begin to settle at the end of poems, while dashes are sparingly used. Though Dickinson still grapples with themes of love, death, and separation, she is now more concerned in this enterprise with generalities and universals. The poetry of the "I" has become the poetry of the "we."3 From 1870 on, a number of poems have no punctuation at all. But the absence as well as the presence of punctuation is significant. In this period, Dickinson seems to be thinking increasingly in ballad meter, creating word groupings based on the metrics of trimeter and tetrameter. When a phrase is not contained by the meter, she uses punctuation to indicate grouping, but almost as often she adds a line break instead of punctuation to separate words. Clearly, punctuation is not an indispensable part of composition at this stage, though it is still an ingredient. But even in this partial abandon of punctuation, Dickinson continues to be unconventional, resisting as always the containment and closure inherent in rules of punctuation. 36 Kamilla Denman With the diminishing use of punctuation there is also a decrease in the number of words in poems and letters. Dickinson herself explains: "I hesitate which word to take, as I can take but few and each must be the chiefest, but recall that Earth's most graphic transaction is placed within a syllable, nay, even a gaze— " (L 873,1880). In her writing, one might say Dickinson moves increasingly towards silence, a quality she affirms throughout her poetry and letters. In part, this move indicates a rejection of her highly verbal society. Dickinson explains her social withdrawal in terms of avoiding discourse: "Of 'shunning Men and Women' — they talk of Hallowed things, aloud — and embarrass my Dog — He and I dont object to them, if they'll exist their side" (L 271). Poem 1159 places her value of silence in an even more anti-cultural context: Great Streets of silence led away To Neighborhoods of Pause — Here was no Notice — no Dissent No Universe — no Laws — By Clocks, 'twas Morning, and for Night The Bells at Distance called — But Epoch had no basis here For Period exhaled. (ca. 1870) In Dickinson's imagined locale, which may be her vision of eternity in contrast to the Christian one, language is absent, but more significant are its concomi- tant absences: attention, disagreement, the universe with its universal laws, linear time, and "Period." In the last, Dickinson plays on the temporal and punctuational definitions of the word by refusing to give it an article or any other definition, glibly placing a period after it in one extant version of the poem and letting it exhale in a dash in the other. Though the poem primarily refers to absent items, the things that are present in the poem are revealing. Dickinson's silence is not a total one, but one filled with rhythm and wordless music in the ticking clocks and tolling bells. Linear time is replaced by cyclical time in the clocks, which are visual symbols of endlessly repeating units of time. The tolling of bells, which traditionally marks significant points in the 37 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 life cycle and the liturgical cycle, contributes to the erosion of linear time and the affirmation of the recurring. In the exhaling period, Dickinson points to a silence and a pause not only beyond language but beyond punctuation. But despite her visionary foray beyond society, language, and punctua- tion, the poem that describes the "Neighborhoods of Pause" is written in words, and it is punctuated. Punctuation not only groups words, indicates tone, and marks rhythms, it creates places of silence in the pauses between words, a function that Dickinson utilized fully. In her earlier poems, dashes create disruptive and lingering pauses beyond anything required by conven- tional rules of punctuation. The following poem illustrates this practice: Going — to — Her! Happy — Letter! Tell Her — Tell Her — the page I never wrote! Tell Her, I only said — the Syntax — And left the Verb and the Pronoun — out! Tell Her — it was'nt a practised writer — You guessed — From the way the sentence — toiled — You could hear the Bod dice — tug — behind you — As if it held but the might of a child! You almost pitied — it — you — it worked so — Tell Her — No — you may quibble — there — For it would split Her Heart — to know it — And then — you and I — were silenter! (P 494, ca. 1862) The punctuation and syntax create a halting but emotionally charged tone and mark the silent places where the speaker either cannot or dares not write. The image used to express this inability to communicate is, appropriately, gram- matical: the writer announces that the verb and the pronoun, the active and personally indicative parts of the "sentence" that stands for her inner thought, have been omitted. But the breakdown of grammar is not merely an image for the unutterable: it occurs in the form of the poem as well, as in the lines, "You almost pitied — it — you — it worked so — / Tell Her — No — you may quibble — there — ." The stretching stitches of the tugging bodice and the 38 KamilL· Denman erratic beat of the speaker's bursting heart are visually and aurally represented by the stitch-like, pulsing dashes of the poem. Like the heartbeat of a tremulous person, they create an irregular rhythm that also disrupts the smooth flow of grammar in the poem. By contrast, Dickinson's later poems contain little or no punctuation; yet they are shorter and fewer, indicating that if the poet continues to ponder the silent and the wordless, she does so by being more sparing of words: By homely gift and hindered Words The human heart is told Of Nothing — "Nothing" is the force That renovates the World — (P 1563,1883) Here, the hindered, halting words of the earlier poem are condensed into a minimally punctuated poem of far fewer words. The unutterable behind the hindered words is no longer an unexpressed thought that the speaker fears to communicate; it is rather a formless, renovating force that exists not so much behind language as in spite of language. Again, the form of the poem reinforces its content: it cuts itself down to the fragment, "Of Nothing," from which it then reasserts itself to complete the ballad rhythm set up at the beginning, adding an off-rhyme for a further sense of resolution. But as in many of her poems, the dash at the end leaves the poem open, pointing towards the silence, the nothing that renews and renovates not only the world, but the words that create and express it. Silence provides not only the time and space in which words can be uttered and heard but is for Dickinson a generating source of language: "The Lassitudes of Contemplation / Beget a force" (P 1592). Silence is not a void but rather a fullness from which the most powerful language emerges: Declaiming Waters none may dread — But Waters that are still Are so for that most fatal cause In Nature — they are full — (P 1595)34 39 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 The silence preceding a flood, like poetic silence, is pregnant with lethal power. For all her interest in words and their arrangements, Dickinson was profoundly drawn to silence and the nonverbal. Dickinson was convinced that the greatest things impress their presence without words: By intuition, Mightiest Things Assert tiiemselves — and not by terms — "I'm Midnight" — need die Midnight say — "I'm Sunrise" — Need the Majesty? Omnipotence — had not a Tongue — His lisp — is Lightning — and the Sun — His conversation — with the Sea — "How shall you know?" Consult your Eye! (P 420) Her poems often celebrate mute, natural beauty at the expense of her own language. With a flower, she sent the following poem: All the letters I can write Are not fair as this — Syllables of Velvet — Sentences of Plush (P 334) The Dickinson poem is thus paradoxically anti-poetry: "True Poems flee" like a summer sky (P 1472). Yet the paradox circles and reverberates endlessly, for this observation is expressed in a poem. Dickinson turns the silent and the nonverbal into language: "There's a noiseless noise in the Orchard — that I let persons hear" (L 271). She thus becomes a translator of silence as well as of music into language. Nowhere is this more apparent than in her latest poetry. In the 1880s, there is a quiet exultation in the inner life, in transcendence, in mystery, and in what cannot be expressed through language, despite the many elegiac poems of the period. Dickinson's last poems represent the brief and compressed poetry that she had spent her life preparing to write and deserve much more 40 Kamilla Denman critical attention than they have received. Towards the end of her life, she described the process by which one moves from propped up dependence to mature self-sufficiency: The Props assist the House Until the House is built And then the Props withdraw And adequate, erect, The House support itself And cease to recollect The Augur and the Carpenter — Just such a retrospect Hath the perfected Life — A past of Plank and Nail And slowness — then the Scaffolds drop Affirming it a Soul. (P 1142) The same claim might be made for the perfected poem. Among the props that Dickinson used to build her poems are marks of anguished and exultant exclamation, defiant and playful questioning, hesitant and tantalizing pauses, and disruptive, musical, elliptic dashes. At the end of her life, these marks increasingly fall away, leaving words and lines of poetry largely undirected and uncontrolled by the restrictions of punctuation. Like the robin to which she so often compared herself, Dickinson was "a Gabriel / In humble circumstances," a member of "Transport's Working Classes," writing with an "oblique integrity," "As covert[ly] as a Fugitive, / Cajoling [the] Consternation" of readers, editors, and critics "By Ditties to the Enemy / And Sylvan Punctuation" (P 1483). Dickinson uses the syntactic, affective, rhythmic, and tonal functions of punctuation with great innovation and effect, disrupting the reader's syntactic expectations and charging her poetry with intensity. Concomitantly she soothes these disruptions and erup- tions with musical rhythms and long pauses which point to silence. "Sylvan Punctuation" evokes the symbolic and mythical associations of the woods, which Marie Louise von Franz has described in her Interpretation of Fairy Tales: "A wood is a region where visibility is limited, where one loses 41 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 one's way, where wild animals and unexpected dangers may be present, and therefore, like the sea, it is a symbol of the unconscious. . . . Aside from this, wood is vegetable life, an organic form that draws life directly from the earth and transforms the soil. Through plants inorganic matter becomes living."35 The robin's punctuation, the devices used to shape and guide its music, has been learned in the woods, in a mythical and unconscious place apart from society. Dickinson's "Sylvan Punctuation," learned from the robin who is her "Criterion for Tune — / Because I grow — where Robins do — " (P 285) in a self-imposed exile from society, is consequently mystifying, circular, elusive, full of unexpected turns that cause readers to lose their way. It lies outside the orderly structures of her society and ours, is closely connected to the uncon- scious, nonverbal aspects of the human psyche and of music, and is one of the ways in which she makes the inorganic matter of language into living poetry. Dickinson's woods are even more pregnant and threatening than the woods of myths and fairy tales, for they grow on a volcano: On my volcano grows the Grass A meditative spot — An acre for a Bird to choose Would be the General rhought — How red the Fire rocks below How insecure the sod Did I disclose Would populate with awe my solitude (P 1677) Notes 1. Penciled draft found among Dickinson's papers at her death. Cited in Emily Dickinson, The ^ters of Emily Dickinson, eds. Thomas Johnson and Theodora Ward, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Belknap P of the Harvard UP, 1958) 3: 1011. All further references to this source will be cited parenthetically as L, followed by the number of the letter. 2. Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The American Scholar," Selections from Ralph Waldo Emerson: An Organic Anthobgy, ed. Stephen E. Whicher (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., I960) 67. 42 Kamilk Denman 3. Emily Dickinson, The Poems of Emily Dickinson, ed. Thomas H. Johnson, 3 vols. (Cam- bridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1955) 2: 601. Further references to Dickinson's poems from this source are referenced parenthetically as P, followed by the number Johnson assigned to the poem. 4. In Dickinson's day, the punctuation of poetry was not considered separately from that of prose. Joseph A. Turner, a contemporary of Dickinson, remarks in his Handbook of Punctuation that "The laws for the punctuation of poetry are the same as those for the punctuation of prose" (Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1876, 66). It must be stressed that ideas about punctuation were by no means uniform in Dickinson's time. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, there was a lively debate about pointing theory. The elocutionary school held that punctuation had a primarily rhetorical function: to indicate the length of pauses and rises and falls in the voice when declaiming a written piece. But as the medium of print became more widespread, the syntactic school gained increasing support, claiming that the primary function of punctuation was to reveal the grammatical structure of each sentence. In the absence ofa voice to clarify ambiguities about the relations of words to one another, the eye must take the place of the ear in receiving and interpreting meaning. Park Honan tells us that by mid-century, the syntactical view had prevailed over the elocutionary (Park Honan, "Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century English Punctuation Theory," English Studies46.2 (I960): 92-102. 5. Mabel Loomis Todd, Dickinson's first editor, remarked: "I am not surprised at the success of the poems, for there is nothing like them in English. Their haunting compelling effect upon me while I was putting the seven hundred into shape was beyond anything I can express." For Todd, putting these compelling poems "into shape" required smoothing rhymes, adding tides, omitting stanzas, altering words, and regularizing punctuation (MillicentTodd Bingham, Ancestors'Brocades: The Literary Debut of Emily Dickinson, New York: Harper, 1945, 83). Thomas H. Johnson, after all his efforts to restore the original punctuation in 1955, wrote in the preface to his edition: "Her use of the dash is especially capricious.. .. Within lines she uses dashes with no grammatical function whatsoever . .. Quite properly such 'punctuation' can be omitted in later editions" (Preface to The Poems of Emily Dickinson, 3 vols., Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1955, 1: lxiii). R W. Franklin, who took great pains to order her packets as they had been at her death and produce a facsimile edition of her poems, argues the need for 'a readers' text whose capitalization and punctuation conform to modern usage," edited by a god-like "editor, critic, and philosopher in one" who has struggled with "editorial and critical principles even to the limits of ontology and epistemology" ( The Editing of Emily Dickinson: A Reconsid- eration, Madison: U Wisconsin P, 1967, 128, 143). 6. Cited in Charles R Anderson, Emily Dickinson's Poetry: Stairway of Surprise (New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston), 344. 7. J. A. Simpson, and E.S.C. Weiner, eds., Oxford English Dictionary, 2nd ed., 20 vols. (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1989) 10: 841. 8. P 986; fascicle as it appears in R W. Franklin, The Manusaipt Books of Emily Dickinson (Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1981). 43 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. 1 9. As printed in the Springfield Republican, February 14, 1866. 10. Cristanne Miller, Emily Dickinson: A Poet's Grammar (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1987), 50. 11. Brita Lindberg-Seyersted, The Voice of the Poet: Aspects of Style in the Poetry of Emily Dickinson, Acta Universitas Upsaliensis, Studia Anglistica Upsaliensia 6 (Upsala: Almqvist & Wiksells Boktryckeri, 1968), 195-196. 12. The version Dickinson sent to Susan in 1872 shows that the conventions of print had no impact on her choice of punctuation, except to reinforce her original intentions. To avoid the intrusive editorial placement of the question mark, she puts her own at a point which would render it impossible under conventional standards to add the Republican's question mark: You may have met him? Did you not His notice instant is — Dickinson's re-writing of this poem after its publication ofFers crucial evidence that her reluctance to publish was based, at least in part, on an aversion to the conventions of print. When Todd and Higginson (the latter the recipient of the protesting letter) published "The Snake" in 1891 ■they followed the example of the Republican, ignoring Dickinson's defense of her punctuation. Other editors followed suit, favoring grammatical sense and conven- tional practice over Dickinson's "intention." Bolts ofMebdy, edited by Millicent Todd Bingham in 1945, was a notable exception. 13. Dickinson herself lived a life of self-imposed separation and enclosure in which she explored these new relationships between words. 14. Charles F. Meyer, A Linguistic Study of American Punctuation (New York: Peter Lang, 1987), 4. 15. William Livingston Klein, Why We Punctuate; or Reason versus Rule in the Use of Marks (Minneapolis: Lancet, 1916), 8. 16. Lineation and meter also contribute to the ensuing fragmentation and disruption: the second stanza expands to five lines, and the poem oscillates between iambic pentameter, ballad meter, and tetrameter. 17. Alan Helms, "The Sense of Punctuation," The Yale Review 69.2 (1980): 188-189. 18. Franklin, Editing, 120-121. 19. Timothy Morris, "The Development of Dickinson's Style," American Literature 60.1 (1988): 26-41. 20. Sharon Cameron, Lyric Time: Dickinson and the Limits of Genre (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1979), 14. 21. Issues of dating are crucial for an argument such as this one. The objection may be raised that the date of packet copies does not necessarily coincide with the date of composition. However, from the point of view of punctuation, this does not matter. Dickinson's punctuation evolved as an integral part of her writing and poems composed earlier and 44 Kamilk Denman copied later are copied using the punctuation characteristic at the time of copying not at the time of composition. Poem 174, for example, has extant manuscripts in the handwriting of 1860 and of 1862. In the former, there are many more exclamation marks. In the latter, dashes predominate, replacing commas and all exclamation marks but one, and appearing as well in places where there was no punctuation in the earlier version. 22. In light of attempts to dismiss Dickinson's unusual use of punctuation as idiosyncratic or a mere habit, one cannot stress sufficiendy how completely conventional she was in her earliest poetic punctuation. Poem 1, written in 1850, contains only two of the dashes for which she was to become (in)fà mous; it has five semi-colons and one colon (as many as she used in the entire future course of her poetic career after 1853), and fifty-nine commas. 23. Klein, 2. 24. OED, 5: 507-508. 25. OED, 4: 257-259. 26. Theodora Ward, "Poetry and Punctuation," Letters to the Editor, Saturday Review (1963) 46: 25. 27. John Cody, After Great Pain: The Inner Life of Emily Dickinson (Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1971), 291-355. Although Cody does not refer explicidy to the punctuation, he regards the disintegration of Dickinson's language as indicative of her psychosis. 28. Franklin, 124. 29. Helms, 177. 30. Since this is an aural argument, the only proof I can suggest is for the reader to test the theory vocally. 31. Aaron Copland {Eight Poems ofEmily Dickinson for Voice and Chamber, 1981), John Adams {Harmonium for Chorus and Orchestra, 1988), George Walker (Emily Dickinson Songs, 1986), and Ernst Bacon (OFriend, 1946) are examples of those who have set Dickinson's poetry to various forms of music. 32. See, for example, poems 1238, 1239, 1241, 1251, 1255, 1292, 1306, 1316, 1329, 1331, 1340,1347, 1350, 1354,1356, 1372,1376, 1385,1392, 1412,14l6,1417,1445,1455, 1474, 1475, 1482, 1491, 1506, 1508, 1530, 1547, 1563,1575. Though Johnson chose to date poems by concrete historical evidence and by the handwriting, several poems not dated by Johnson in the absence of manuscripts or historical data could reasonably be assigned to this period by the diction, tone, and style (for example, poems 1652, 1657, 1654,1660,1716,1763). 33. See, for example, poems 1157, 1165, 1172, 1214, 1235, 1240, 1242,1375, 1452, 1496, 1505,1507, 1589. 34. Another fair copy reads "mighty cause": the two adjectives combined evoke the deadly power of the volcano, Dickinson's "explosive force." 45 The Emily Dickinson Journal, VoL II, No. I 35. Marie Louise von Franz, Interpretation of Fairy Tales (Dallas: Spring Publications, 1970), 93. Besides her identification with robins, Dickinson also claimed, "I live in the Sea always" (L 306). Works Cited Anderson, Charles R. Emily Dickinson's Poetry: Stairway of Surprise. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1960. Bingham, Millicent Todd. Ancestors' Brocades: The Literary Debut of Emily Dickinson. New York: Harper, 1945. Cameron, Sharon. Lyric Time: Dickinson and the Limits of Genre. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1979. Cody, John. After Great Pain: The Inner Life of Emily Dickinson. Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1971. Dickinson, Emily. The Poems of Emily Dickinson. Ed. Thomas H. Johnson. 3 vols. Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1955. ----------. The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Eds. Thomas Johnson and Theodora Ward. 3 vols. Cambridge: Belknap P of the Harvard UP, 1958. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. "The American Scholar." Selections from Ralph Waldo Emerson: An Organic Anthology. Ed. Stephen E. Whicher. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., I960. 53-71. Franklin, R. W. The Editing of Emily Dickinson: A Reconsideration. Madison: U Wisconsin P, 1967. ----------. The Manuscript Books of Emily Dickinson. Cambridge, MA: Belknap P of Harvard UP, 1981. Helms, Alan. "The Sense of Punctuation." The Yale Review 69.2(1980): 177-196. Honan, Park "Eighteenüi and Nineteenth Century English Punctuation Theory." English Studies 46.2(1960): 92-102. Klein, William Livingston. Why We Punctuate; or Reason versus Rule in the Use of Marks. Minneapolis: Lancet, 1916. Lindberg-Seyersted, Brita. The Voice of the Poet: Aspects of Style in the Poetry of Emily Dickinson. Acta Universitas Upsaliensis, Studia Anglistica Upsaliensia 6. Upsala: Almqvist & Wiksells Bok- tryckeri, 1968. Meyer, Charles F. A Linguistic Study of American Punctuation. New York: Peter Lang, 1987. Miller, Cristanne. Emily Dickinson: A Poet's Grammar. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1987. Morris, Timothy. "The Development of Dickinson's Style." American Literature 60.1 (1988): 26-41. Simpson, J. A., and E.S.C. Wein er, eds. Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 20 vols. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1989. Turner, Joseph A. A Handbook of Punctuation. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co., 1876. Von Franz, Marie Louise. Interpretation of Fairy Tales. Dallas: Spring Publications, 1970. Ward, Theodora. "Poetry and Punctuation." Letters to the Editor. Saturday Review (1963) 46: 25. 46 
work_d5beccygwzc6xhdh3x7lcvtmta	----	Transatlantica, 2 | 2012 Transatlantica Revue d’études américaines. American Studies Journal  2 | 2012 Cartographies de l'Amérique / Histoires d'esclaves Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Editions Rue d’Ulm, 2012, 267 pages François Specq Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/6179 DOI : 10.4000/transatlantica.6179 ISSN : 1765-2766 Éditeur AFEA Référence électronique François Specq, « Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Editions Rue d’Ulm, 2012, 267 pages », Transatlantica [En ligne], 2 | 2012, mis en ligne le 08 mai 2013, consulté le 25 septembre 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/6179 ; DOI : https:// doi.org/10.4000/transatlantica.6179 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 25 septembre 2020. Transatlantica – Revue d'études américaines est mis à disposition selon les termes de la licence Creative Commons Attribution - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modification 4.0 International. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/6179 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Editions Rue d’Ulm, 2012, 267 pages François Specq 1 Près de cinquante ans après l’ouvrage fondateur de Maurice Gonnaud (Individu et société chez Ralph Waldo Emerson, Paris, Didier, 1964), voici que paraît enfin en français un nouveau livre entièrement consacré au penseur et écrivain américain Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’attente aura été récompensée : l’auteur de Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Thomas Constantinesco, mérite d’être salué pour cet ouvrage qui fera date par l’ampleur et la qualité de ses analyses. Alors que, depuis l’approche littéraire de Maurice Gonnaud, la flamme émersonienne avait été principalement entretenue par les philosophes, notamment ceux inspirés par Stanley Cavell — voir les nombreux travaux de Sandra Laugier sur la philosophie américaine —, Thomas Constantinesco parvient à rassembler les deux fils pour offrir une analyse philosophico-littéraire qui restitue et magnifie toute la finesse et la complexité de la prose d’Emerson. 2 Remarquablement bien écrit, et ponctué de très belles traductions originales de textes d’Emerson, cet ouvrage constituera pour les lecteurs français, moins une somme — car Thomas Constantinesco n’ambitionne pas d’offrir une approche encyclopédique — qu’un long essai sur un auteur qui s’est lui-même illustré dans ce genre. Entendons par là un parcours personnel, non systématique, d’une œuvre, mais aussi un écrit à l’image des textes qu’il commente. L’auteur revendique ce rapport mimétique à l’œuvre commentée, ce qui, dans le cas d’Emerson, est une méthode féconde. Cette écriture est aussi, de manière si belle et si prégnante, une voix, qui nous entraîne avec fermeté dans les subtilités d’une analyse toujours parfaitement limpide. Il n’était assurément pas facile de structurer une telle étude, mais l’architecture d’ensemble fait justice à la complexité des textes d’Emerson. 3 Nourri d’une parfaite connaissance de l’œuvre d’Emerson, Thomas Constantinesco l’est aussi des innombrables critiques qui l’ont commentée, dont la présence n’a toutefois rien d’envahissant — le lecteur désireux de poursuivre son exploration bénéficie d’une Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Edit... Transatlantica, 2 | 2012 1 riche bibliographie en fin d’ouvrage. On appréciera comment ses analyses, toujours d’une grande finesse, convoquent, sans forfanterie, nombre de penseurs, de Mauss à Derrida en passant par Bataille. L’apport de la philosophie contemporaine à cette lecture d’Emerson est indéniable, en ce qu’elle a permis de manière décisive une sensibilité de l’interprète aux failles et aux vertiges du signifiant, à l’intime de la lettre, aussi bien qu’à la porosité des genres — on lira ici une magnifique réflexion sur le « faire-fiction » de l’essai émersonien, qui en ferait une des formes privilégiées prises par les fictions d’Amérique. L’une des forces du livre est l’analyse très poussée d’un certain nombre d’essais parmi les plus importants, dans leur déploiement et leurs replis, leurs inflexions, leurs contradictions, qui sont la marque d’un mode de pensée fondamentalement non-dialectique — raison pour laquelle Emerson est souvent considéré comme si difficile à lire dans nos contrées. Ces analyses, simultanément traversées de nombreux renvois et échos qui mettent les essais en relation les uns avec les autres, confortent l’impression qu’a souvent le lecteur d’Emerson que celui-ci n’a au fond écrit qu’un seul et vaste essai reprenant et déclinant à l’infini des thèmes et des logiques immuables. 4 Si l’œuvre d’Emerson n’en reste pas moins douée d’une remarquable force d’attraction, c’est en vertu de sa dynamique propre. Articulé à l’idée récurrente que « l’écriture démultiplie sans cesse les lignes de fuite de la pensée » (113), le commentaire décrit la forme de l’essai comme l’incarnation nécessaire de son mode de fonctionnement. La lecture de « Compensation » est ainsi un modèle de complexité maîtrisée, toute en nuances, et de la manière dont la lecture d’un essai spécifique sert de fond à une analyse du fonctionnement même de l’essai comme genre : ainsi, les pages consacrées à la « dynamique de l’écriture » sont remarquables (120-23). On apprendra donc beaucoup, à cette lecture, de la manière d’aborder les tours et détours de la prose d’Emerson, dans un texte épousant au plus près les délinéaments d’une pensée non- résolutive, qui cherche avant tout à maintenir en suspens les mots et les choses. 5 Aussi peut-on s’étonner qu’à l’occasion l’analyse tende à lire un peu trop nettement le texte à travers le prisme d’une déconstruction qui donne parfois à de belles analyses un tour prescriptif d’essence paradoxalement « théologique ». La longue analyse de la self- reliance, par exemple, après s’être ouverte sur une admirable définition (« l’accueil inconditionné de la transcendance en soi » [126] — pourrait-on mieux dire ?) dérive ensuite étrangement vers la « self-help » victorienne (127) ou une terminologie psychologique discutable (« examen de soi » ou « introspection », 126, 136-37) avant de s’en remettre à un « spectral » derridien (l’« altérité spectrale qui rend l’individu étranger à lui-même », 140) qui ne fait pas tout à fait justice au texte même d’Emerson. L’insistance sur le terme de « spectre » ne fait que rendre plus manifeste l’absence du mot « mystique », qu’on serait porté à attendre : la self-reliance paraît fondamentalement plus proche de la tradition mystique que de la déconstruction derridienne. 6 C’est que l’analyse de Thomas Constantinesco, lancée sous le signe de Montaigne, semble faire sienne le célèbre appel d’Emerson à refuser de bâtir « le sépulcre des pères », pour se terminer par une coda placée sous l’égide de Derrida (par son titre comme par une référence explicite). Montaigne et Derrida, même combat, se demande- t-on ? Cela reste en suspens : apparu dans le « Prologue » comme élément « méta- littéraire » — figure dans un entrelacs de questions telles que l’écriture, la citation ou l’inachevé — Montaigne fait alors l’objet d’un excellent parallèle avec Emerson (28), qui Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Edit... Transatlantica, 2 | 2012 2 laisse espérer que l’auteur y reviendra, pour nous offrir, dans un de ces splendides creusements critiques dont il est coutumier, une nouvelle manière de voir les choses, plus complexe, plus riche, qui fasse, pourquoi pas, droit à une quête de la singularité. En quoi, espère-t-on apprendre au fil de l’ouvrage, Emerson a-t-il ou pas accompli son désir de « relever » Montaigne, pour utiliser un terme cher à la tradition derridienne (« to mend Montaigne », avait dit Emerson) ? 7 De manière logique, la lecture entraîne aussi globalement Emerson du côté de Nietzsche, suivant en cela les traces de Michael Lopez, y compris vers la face un peu « sombre » du philosophe allemand. Soucieux de déjouer les pièges d’une construction de l’écrivain en figure héroïque, Thomas Constantinesco attire l’attention sur la dimension anti-démocratique d’Emerson, ce qui rejoint par un autre biais certaines lectures traditionnelles mettant en avant son « conservatisme » grandissant au fil des années. Il y a assurément un côté « brahmane de Boston » chez Emerson. N’est-ce pas toutefois aller un peu loin que de dire, en une page anticipant les développements de la 5e partie, que les Essais permettent à Emerson de se constituer en « héros représentatif, homme de caractère à tous les sens du terme, seul capable de dominer les masses et d’assurer le maintien de l’ordre républicain », ou de parler de « mise en scène de la confiscation de la démocratie par un représentant qui cherche à contrôler le peuple » (27) ? Ou, deux pages plus loin, de le décrire comme une « figure despotique, sinon tyrannique, [qui] n’a plus rien du héros démocratique sous le masque duquel il s’était d’abord présenté » (29) ? 8 Une telle lecture ferait donc ressortir une tendance intrinsèquement « conservatrice » chez Emerson. Intrinsèquement, car, si la critique a depuis longtemps reconnu chez lui une évolution conservatrice, l’Emerson de Thomas Constantinesco est assez largement anhistorique, c’est-à-dire déconnecté de son contexte historique précis et envisagé comme égal à lui-même tout au long de sa « carrière » (égalité à lui-même dans sa paradoxale non-coïncidence à lui-même) : il en résulte que l’auteur de l’étude ne voit pas en lui une évolution vers le conservatisme, mais un fond conservateur natif. On pourra trouver l’analyse de la dimension politique d’Emerson très « méta-politique », comme l’essai est envisagé de manière « méta-littéraire ». Est-ce que la situation politique des années 1830 est la même que celle de 1860 ? L’étude de l’œuvre d’Emerson est certes très difficile à structurer, mais la lecture a-chronique risque de gommer certaines dimensions ou différences importantes. Len Gougeon, à l’inverse, a été soucieux de retracer une évolution de la pensée politique d’Emerson. S’il ne s’agit pas de départager analyse historique et mise en évidence d’une « politique de la littérature » (notion de Jacques Rancière ici revendiquée comme fil conducteur), il aurait été intéressant de les voir confrontées l’une à l’autre. 9 Mais c’est précisément la richesse de ce travail, sa subtilité, sa force, qui créent l’attente et le désir qu’a le lecteur d’être emmené encore plus loin. Thomas Constantinesco démontre ici des capacités d’analyse peu communes, dont il ne fait guère de doute qu’il continuera à les mettre à profit pour nous éclairer et nous interroger tout à la fois. Si Montaigne a disparu entre le début et la fin du livre, de sorte qu’on ne saura jamais en quoi Emerson l’avait ou pas « mend[ed] », c’est qu’il fallait à Thomas Constantinesco, comme à l’Emerson des Essais, ne pas conclure, et, sinon annoncer, du moins faire espérer une « reprise », un livre à venir… Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Edit... Transatlantica, 2 | 2012 3 INDEX Thèmes : Recensions AUTEUR FRANÇOIS SPECQ École Normale Supérieure de Lyon Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Edit... Transatlantica, 2 | 2012 4 Thomas Constantinesco, Ralph Waldo Emerson. L’Amérique à l’essai, Paris, Editions Rue d’Ulm, 2012, 267 pages 
work_d7wutwykgjby3k3i73mx2mqpym	----	117049 1041..1055 Historical, practical, and theoretical perspectives on green management An exploratory analysis Stephanie S. Pane Haden, Jennifer D. Oyler and John H. Humphreys Department of Marketing and Management, Texas A&M University-Commerce, Commerce, Texas, USA Abstract Purpose – The purpose of this paper is to provide a comprehensive definition of green management. In the quest to systematically develop an inclusive definition, it seeks to take an exploratory approach to investigate the existing literature on green management from three different perspectives: first, tracing the history of how this concept emerged over time; second, considering the practices in which green organizations actually engage, focusing specifically on one company that has been recognized and honored for its extraordinary efforts toward sustainability; and third, reviewing the current developments in critical theory related to environmental issues and business. Design/methodology/approach – This exploratory review of the literature uses a tripartite approach to forge a sound definition and conceptualization of the term green management. Exploration of green management from the three angles mentioned revealed some commonalities and consistencies in the terminology and concepts. Factors common to the three perspectives were included in the proposed definition of green management. Findings – The ultimate product of the review is a comprehensive definition of green management. The identification of several commonalities using a tripartite approach lends support to the proposed definition and indicates to both researchers and practitioners that certain factors should not be ignored when attempting to study or practice green management. Originality/value – To the authors’ knowledge, green management has never been collectively reviewed from these three perspectives and the systematic approach resulted in a comprehensive definition that can help coordinate future research efforts around a common conceptualization. Keywords Ecology, Environmental management, History Paper type General review Introduction The original premise of this paper was to systematically trace the history of green management. This proved to be a challenging endeavor, primarily due to the fact that a precise and consistent definition of the term “green management” eludes the literature. The complexity of the task was further compounded by the fact that individuals and organizations have adopted a myriad of conceptualizations regarding what it means to practice green management. Some view something as simple as the incorporation of a business-wide recycling program as green management. It is not our objective to trivialize such a program as inconsequential, but researchers in the field and some business leaders demand that much more rigorous objectives be achieved in order to be recognized as a green organization. Researchers’ and practitioners’ views of what green management truly entails can fall at any point along a continuum, ranging from simple The current issue and full text archive of this journal is available at www.emeraldinsight.com/0025-1747.htm Perspectives on green management 1041 Management Decision Vol. 47 No. 7, 2009 pp. 1041-1055 q Emerald Group Publishing Limited 0025-1747 DOI 10.1108/00251740910978287 and basic environmentally-friendly programs that prevent further harm, to complex and demanding strategic initiatives that help to restore the environmental damage that has been done in the past. Therefore, the origin of green management may be recognized at different points in time, depending upon how the concept is defined and what types of practices we perceive as indicative of green management. Therefore, we felt it was necessary to shift the main objective of this paper from a strictly historical review of green management toward a systematic attempt to develop a sound definition and conceptualization of the term; the latter being an essential precursor to a valid historical account. In order to develop an adequate definition, we believe it is necessary to consider green management from a variety of critical angles. While we note that a truly systematic historical account is restricted at this point in time, we contend that history should not simply be ignored and that considering green management from a general historical perspective is one of the aforementioned critical angles. We believe that providing a basic timeline that traces how the need for green management emerged will help lay the foundation for the development of a definition. Beyond understanding how we arrived at our present-day need to practice green management, additional steps must be taken in order to decipher an adequate definition of the term and to fully grasp what it means to engage in green management. We will identify the current practices of an exemplary green organization and the developments in theory related to green management, as we believe that exploring these critical angles are also instrumental in arriving at a satisfactory definition of the term. The inadequacy of previous and related definitions of green management will also be addressed. Through this exploratory and tripartite approach to investigating green management from three different critical angles, we hope to converge upon a single, comprehensive, and complete definition of the term. Defining and conceptualizing green management A historical overview of the emergence of green management The need for environmental awareness and green management evolves from a variety of wrongdoings that have transpired over time. The exact moment in history in which these environmental wrongdoings originated is a subject for debate. Some may argue that with every generation of mankind, the environment has been suffering the consequences of selfish and wasteful human behavior. For example, there is an ongoing debate as to whether the Native American Indians were environmental conservationists who lived in harmony with nature or wasteful individuals who left buffalo to rot and burned down forests to clear the land for farming (e.g. Anderson, 1997). Likewise, the pioneers have been accused of recklessly exploiting natural resources and destroying wildlife during the frontier days in the late nineteenth century (e.g. Udall, 1963; Buchholz, 1993). Further investigation into all populations that have inhabited the Earth could probably lead researchers to find fault with how humans have treated their natural surroundings throughout history. While wasteful and environmentally damaging human behavior can be identified in accounts that venture back centuries in history, the era known as the Industrial Revolution seems to stand out as a time period in which the most devastating environmental harm originated. Anderson (2004) supports this viewpoint, noting that present-day “restorative” organizations are now responsible for reinvesting in natural capital, restoring the biosphere, and ameliorating the nearly 300 years of damage that MD 47,7 1042 transpired during the industrial age. Thoreau was critical of the Industrial Revolution and dismayed by the fact that man was becoming blinded by wealth and losing his ties to the land (Udall, 1963). While the following discussion touches solely upon the industrialization of Great Britain and the USA and the development of environmental awareness in the US, we do recognize that countries such as China are presently in the midst of an industrial revolution and that a host of other countries place a high value on the welfare of the environment. The Industrial Revolution originated in England in the late 1700s, soon made its way to North America, and persisted throughout the nineteenth century. While there seems to be some debate as to exact start and end dates for this time period and whether it was actually a revolution, all historians tend to document similar trends and events that define the era (e.g. Ashton, 1948; Hobsbawm, 1969). This time period marked a shift toward a capitalistic economy (Hobsbawm, 1975), where wealth and profit were the valued goals of individuals and corporations alike. Factories were built, machinery was developed, and new inventions flourished, all of which contributed to an increase in production, efficiency, and profit. There was also a substantial growth in the population and a rapid increase in the amount of land that was being cultivated. With the production benefits and increased efficiency that accompanied the new factories, advanced machinery, and novel inventions also came increases in air and water pollution. With the increase in the population came the side-effect of increased resource consumption and waste. With the cultivation of land came the negative effects of extensive deforestation. While human behavior prior to the Industrial Revolution was most likely wasteful and environmentally detrimental to some degree, the paramount changes that occurred during this timeframe drastically magnified this environmentally-unfriendly behavior. This magnifying glass by which we refer to as the Industrial Revolution multiplied the number and severity of the consequences of human behavior. While humans would have continued to utilize and waste nonrenewable resources and pollute the environment at a constant rate over time, the Industrial Revolution was the catalyst that exponentially increased the rate of that consumption, waste, and pollution, creating an undeniable urgency to take steps to cease and rectify the environmental damage. During the latter years of the nineteenth century (e.g. Udall, 1963) and the early years of the twentieth century, the people of the USA began to enter the first stages of ecological consciousness with the development of environmentalism and the start of the conservation movement (Buchholz, 1993). This movement originated out of the need to reduce the careless exploitation of the environment indicative of the industrial time period and the need to utilize natural resources in a conscientious and efficient manner, by individuals and corporations alike (Buchholz, 1993). Writers, philosophers, historians, naturalists, and activists such as Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Francis Parkman, William Bartram, and John James Audubon are considered to be the forerunners of the conservation movement due to their transcendental views of nature and their deep reflections upon and awareness of the wilderness in the 1800s (Udall, 1963). The Conservation Movement, spanning the decades between 1850 and 1920, included not only the insightful works and efforts of the aforementioned environmental activists, but also governmental intervention in the form legislation, such as the Forest Reserve Act of 1891 and the Rivers and Harbors Act of 1899. Perspectives on green management 1043 While earlier efforts were made to conserve natural resources and protect the environment, it is suggested that the true environmental movement originated in the mid-1960s and developed rather rapidly over the following decades (Buchholz, 1993). In addition to the societal changes that had profound negative repercussions on the environment during this period, society itself became aware of these repercussions and started expecting businesses to bear much of the responsibility for the planet’s environmental problems (Buchholz, 1993). With being blamed for much of the environmental ills plaguing the world, as well as being held responsible for finding solutions to these problems, organizations had little choice but to attempt to incorporate green management initiatives into all of their business functions. Nattrass and Altomare (1999) discussed the development of industrial sustainability, or what may be considered green management, and maintained that organizations encountered a steep learning curve process when adopting green management practices. Specifically, they constructed a model of organizational adoption of green management practices by which organizations obtained knowledge, responded to environmental issues, and set goals for environmental protection and restoration. Following approximately a century of environmental neglect, the first official era of environmental awareness spanned the 1970s and marked the creation of Earth Day and the first United Nations Environmental Conference (Nattrass and Altomare, 1999). These historical events signified a growing concern for the welfare of the environment. During this era, there was also an increase in environmental legislation that went into effect, among some of the most paramount being the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA) and the five legal mandates of the Conservation and Stewardship legislation. The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) was also established in 1970. Each of these legal measures embodied the overreaching goal of establishing and maintaining standards for preventing environmental pollution. The goal of the government legislation was reflected in the goal of all industry at that time – compliance with regulatory standards. However, the corporate response to environmental concerns needed to be more proactive in nature. The unimaginable events of Love Canal in 1978 and Three Mile Island in 1979 no doubt helped to usher in a new decade where it was understood that merely complying with the law no longer made you a good corporate citizen. The second era of environmental awareness identified by Nattrass and Altomare (1999) spanned the 1980s. The preceding decade had ended with drastic environmental harm and human suffering and this decade was likewise plagued with its own devastation, with the Union Carbide incident in 1984 and the Exxon Valdez oil spill in 1989. It was also during this decade that scientists, climatologists, and policymakers confirmed that the greenhouse effect was a real phenomenon and would eventually have a substantial and negative impact on the climate and environment (e.g. Buchholz, 1993). Such tragic environmental events, as well as the increasing deterioration of the environment due to climate change, were painful but clear warning signs that companies needed to go beyond legal compliance in order to be considered good corporate citizens. Not only did the travesties and phenomenon harm environmental and human welfare, but they also hurt the affiliated companies’ financial standings. In order for companies to avoid such enormous costs, the individuals running these companies started to adopt new strategies to help them anticipate and be better prepared to deal with such tragedies in the future. MD 47,7 1044 The decade of the 1990s constitutes the third era of environmental awareness (Nattrass and Altomare, 1999). This era was defined by a proactive corporate response to environmental issues and a revelation that companies could actually profit from being environmentally conscious and emphasizing continuous improvements regarding environmental issues. It was during this decade that the term “eco-efficiency” was coined and that companies developed strategies that went beyond pollution prevention and the reduction of environmental harm. Instead, organizations pressed their members to find innovative ways to improve the manner in which materials were used and products were produced (Nattrass and Altomare, 1999). During the 1990s, organizations began to realize that maintaining the status quo would not lead to a successful future. Some organizations even had the foresight to conceive the idea that making changes to be more environmentally conscious could not only improve their financial outcomes and help them sustain over time, but could also help them gain an advantage over their competitors (e.g. Porter and van der Linde, 1995). The final and current era of environmental awareness is the new millennium (Nattrass and Altomare, 1999). To date, the response of corporations operating in the year 2000 and beyond is that of high integration. Instead of separating the goals of the company and the environment into two entities, organizational leaders are realizing that company and environmental goals should be one in the same. All organizations need to make environmental issues a major concern in all of their business functions in order to actively join in the noble effort of rescuing this planet that is in peril. While adopting environmentally conscious strategies and practices helps companies remain competitive in their respective markets, the increased environmental concern during this era is also driven by the motive to be socially responsible and to do what is morally right. Nattrass and Altomare (1999) also note that organizations that are trying to become green need to integrate sustainability initiatives at both strategic and operational levels. Additionally, they have to become learning organizations with an organic organizational structure in order to adequately and effectively respond to an environment that is in constant flux (Nattrass and Altomare, 1999). Based on a careful examination of this review and the corresponding body of literature documenting the progression of environmental concern from the Industrial Revolution to the present day, several terms related to the concept of green management have prominently emerged. In response to industrialization, the concepts of ecological consciousness, conservation, and environmentalism emanated, along with a call to decrease resource consumption, waste, and pollution. While these ideas and practices are necessary and basic requirements of any green management initiative, they are not sufficient. The review proceeds to recount the progression of environmental awareness from basic legal compliance in the 1970s to being proactive, gaining a competitive advantage and profit from environmental initiatives, fostering innovation, and achieving sustainability in the 1990s. Present-day, green organizations have transformed into socially responsible, learning organizations and have taken the aforementioned environmental performance initiatives aimed at achieving competitive advantage, financial profit, increased innovation, and sustainability and have fully integrated these initiatives into the overall goals and strategies of their organizations. We feel these fully integrated goals of modern-day green organizations and the concepts of continuous learning and social responsibility should be inherent components of any comprehensive definition of green management. Perspectives on green management 1045 Practices of green organizations: the case of Interface, Inc. Green management might best be defined by the environmentally conscious practices of “green” organizations. While researchers and authors have failed to develop a clear definition of the specific term “green management”, several accounts of what “green” managers actually do to manage their organizations in an environmentally conscious way have been documented in the literature. Interface, Inc. is a stellar example of a “green” organization that engages in practices indicative of rigorous and true green management. Presiding as CEO over a carpet manufacturing company in the commonly-viewed environmentally negligent textile industry, it may seem unfathomable that you would ever be recognized for outstanding contributions to sustainable development. Ray Anderson, founder and CEO of Interface, Inc., accomplished this feat when he was awarded the George and Cynthia Mitchell International Prize for Sustainable Development in 2001 (IIE Solutions, 2001). Anderson credits his transformation into a “born again green industrialist” (Kinkead, 1999) to an epiphany he experienced in 1994 when reading Paul Hawken’s book, The Ecology of Commerce (Woestendiek, 1998). Anderson harkened to Hawken’s call for a restorative economy that would unite ecology and commerce (Hawken, 1993). He set a goal to become a sustainable and restorative organization (Woestendiek, 1998). His first efforts directed at sustainability focused on waste reduction and developed into a company-wide program entitled the QUEST (quality utilizing employee suggestions and teamwork) incentive plan (DuBose, 2000). Not only did the QUEST program help the environment, but it also resulted in improved productivity, teamwork, motivation, and commitment among employees (Romm, 1994), and the company saved over $50 million in waste elimination in just a three-year time period (Woestendiek, 1998; DuBose, 2000). Interface is also exploring new innovations in recyclable materials and utilizing alternative energy sources such as solar panels (Anderson, 2004). Additionally, the creation of their “Trees for Travel” program is helping Interface close in on their goal of climate neutral transportation. By planting a tree for every 1,500 miles an employee flies on a commercial jet, Anderson (2004) rationalizes that the environmental cost for that trip can be recouped in roughly 200 years. In his effort toward achieving sustainability as an organization, Anderson has also partnered with the Natural Step, a non-profit environmental education organization. The Natural Step encourages the companies it works with to engage in sustainable practices by finding ways to decrease their dependence on: (1) materials from the Earth’s crust; (2) unnatural substances; (3) activities that harm nature; and (4) unnecessarily large amounts of resources that do not yield an equivalent human value (e.g. Bradbury and Clair, 1999). Based on these principles and his knowledge and experience in the field and his industry, Anderson proposed an interrelated, seven-step process that he believes his company must engage in, in order to emerge as a restorative and sustainable organization (McClenahen, 1998; Anderson, 2004). The first step focuses on the lofty goal of zero waste. While this goal might be considered impossible to achieve, it is the MD 47,7 1046 only option that fully aligns with the principles indicative of sustainability. The next three steps focus upon the production process itself and require the organization to uncover ways to eliminate harmful emissions, create and utilize renewable energy, and redesign products and processes for recycling (McClenahen, 1998; Anderson, 2004). Rising to meet these three challenges will help the organization to operate in a clean and environmentally-friendly way and become sustainable, but requires the company to make some major changes regarding the organization’s strategy, processes, and structure. Anderson also realizes that transporting raw materials to and finished products from manufacturing plants and employee travel all have a negative impact on the environment (McClenahen, 1998; Anderson, 2004). The fifth step, resource-efficient transportation, is necessary in reducing the resulting pollution and strategic factory location, driving hybrid cars, and the “Trees for Travel” program can all help reduce the pollution caused by travel (Anderson, 2004). The sixth step implores the organization to be socially responsible by creating a community that comprehends how natural systems function and how they are impacted by humans (McClenahen, 1998; Anderson, 2004). The crusade for green management should not be the responsibility of a solitary organization. Its success depends on the society at large to be involved and concertedly join in the effort. Environmental education organizations such as the Natural Step and environmental management standards such as ISO 14001 can help with this agenda (Anderson, 2004). The final stage involves the redesign of commerce to emphasize the delivery of value, as opposed to the delivery of end products (McClenahen, 1998; Anderson, 2004). Consumers must be convinced that there is an enhanced value and quality of a product if it is manufactured and delivered in an environmentally conscious manner. These steps coincide with Hart’s (1995) natural-resource-based view of the firm, as well as other environmentally-based theories of management, which will be addressed in the next section. By conquering these challenges and helping others to become sustainable, Interface can return more to the world than it takes, thereby becoming a truly restorative organization (Birchfield, 2002) and a model of veritable green management. Critical theory underlying green management On review of the literature, and in accordance with active researchers in the field (e.g. Banerjee, 2002a,b), it appears as if the development of theories underlying sustainability and green management is in its infancy. A variety of researchers are taking different approaches toward the theoretical development and corresponding empirical investigation of green management concepts. Banerjee (2002a) suggests that the different theoretical positions by which researchers approach their study of corporate environmentalism, or what we refer to as green management in this paper, include framing it as a paradigmatic shift, stakeholder issue, or strategic issue. As researchers argue the flaws of traditional management paradigms (e.g. Gladwin et al., 1995; Shrivastava, 1995), the search for and development of new paradigms that recognize the importance of environmental issues is underway (Banerjee, 2002a). Gladwin et al. (1995) have proposed a shift toward a “sustaincentric” paradigm and promote it as a compromise between the traditional “technocentric” and more recent “ecocentric” paradigms. The conventional and dominant “technocentric” approach touts that humans are superior to nature and encourages limitless growth, suggesting that science and technology will solve any environmental problems that arise from this growth. On the other end of the spectrum, the “ecocentric” perspective suggests that Perspectives on green management 1047 humans are inferior to nature, they will not be able to miraculously fix all environmental problems, and therefore there should be limits to growth so that we do not exceed the earth’s capacity to sustain life. While the first perspective fails to establish guidance toward true sustainability, the latter is too radical to be openly accepted by most modern-day organizations. The sustainability paradigm proposed by Gladwin et al. (1995) is integrative, uniting approaches of uninhibited growth and no growth and recognizing humans as interconnected with nature, not superior or inferior to it. The strategies and practices of green organizations such as Interface appear to be rather consistent with this new management paradigm, as such organizations recognize the importance of the natural environment and make environmental concerns integral to their corporate goals, practices, and strategies. Banerjee (2002a) suggests that a second theoretical position of corporate environmentalism involves framing it as a stakeholder issue. Researchers suggest that the concept of being a “stakeholder” must extend beyond human entities to include the natural environment as a major stakeholder in organizations (Starik, 1995). The traditional views of social responsibility (e.g. Friedman, 1970) suggest that a company’s primary responsibility is to generate as much money as possible for its shareholders and seem to consider such shareholders as the only important stakeholders in the organization. Such traditional views are being questioned by those who argue that there are a variety of organizational stakeholders, and the natural environment is one of them (e.g. Starik, 1995; Driscoll and Starik, 2004). Shrivastava (1995) contends that nature is the stakeholder that suffers the most risk from industrial activities, and since all life is dependent upon nature, it should be the most imperative and central variable in all organizational concerns and management paradigms. Based on the stakeholder perspective of corporate environmentalism, environmental concerns should not only be recognized as important, but should also be translated into strategic actions that will help the firm improve its environmental performance (Banerjee, 2002a). Considering these more contemporary perspectives on the stakeholder view of the firm, it is evident that it is imperative organizations recognize the importance of environmental issues and find ways to incorporate these issues into their business strategies, just as companies such as Interface have done. The third way in which the theoretical underpinnings and research streams associated with corporate environmentalism can be framed is as a strategic issue (Banerjee, 2002a). Exploring green management as a strategic issue involves consideration of how it affects the competitiveness and profitability of a firm (Banerjee, 2002a) and how it can be integrated into the firm’s strategic planning processes (Judge and Douglas, 1998; Banerjee, 1999). One of the predominant theories addressing the role that the natural environment can play in an organization’s competiveness and success is the natural-resource-based view of the firm (Hart, 1995). Building upon the original resource-based view of the firm (e.g. Wernerfelt, 1984; Barney, 1991), which contends that a firm’s unique resources and capabilities are the main sources of sustainable competitive advantage, Hart (1995) proposes that a company’s competitive advantage is based upon its relationship with the natural environment. The conceptual framework for this theory is comprised of the interconnected strategies of pollution prevention, product stewardship, and sustainable development. As mentioned in the previous section, such strategies are being used by green organizations such as Interface. Empirical evidence also lends support to this theory, finding that unique MD 47,7 1048 organizational capabilities that lead to a competitive advantage can be obtained via proactive responsiveness to ecological issues (Sharma and Vredenburg, 1998). There are other theoretical concepts that address how business strategy can be linked to the natural environment. Extending the strategy of total quality management (TQM) to include environmental concerns, total quality environmental management (TQEM) strives toward improving the environmental performance of an organization through the consideration of environmental costs associated with all organizational processes (e.g. Banerjee, 2002a). TQEM also emphasizes the need to incorporate environmental issues into organizational strategies in order to remain competitive in today’s market (Borri and Boccaletti, 1995). In accordance with the manner in which researchers suggest that there is a need to go beyond TQM in order to continuously expand and improve a firm’s capabilities (e.g. Luthans et al., 1995), becoming a learning organization with respect to environmental issues also seems necessary. Building upon the theoretical framework of organizational learning, Banerjee (1998) proposes that organizations can gain a competitive advantage by learning how to integrate environmental issues with their business strategies and corporate goals. Many business leaders have transformed their companies into learning organizations in order to gain the flexibility needed to deal with turbulence and uncertainty, to solve problems, and to continuously improve (e.g. Daft, 2007), all of which are issues inherent in the practice of green management. Both TQEM and corporate environmental (organizational) learning introduce the importance of integrating environmental issues into organizational strategies in order to gain a competitive advantage (Banerjee, 1998, 2002a), and companies like Interface have transformed into learning organizations in order to deal with the complexity of conducting business in an environmentally-friendly manner. We would also like to point out the central role that innovation plays in the development of competitive organizational strategies aimed at environmental improvements (e.g. Porter and van der Linde, 1995). Others offer similar sentiments about the importance of innovation (e.g. Nattrass and Altomare, 1999; Banerjee, 2001) and many of the practices of green organizations (i.e. Interface) can be described as nothing short of truly innovative. Challenges in defining green management One of the primary reasons why it is difficult to decipher a consistent and comprehensive definition of green management is that it is a relatively new term. Database searches yield relatively few works addressing the exact term “green management” and the majority of such works focus on environmental management and environmental management systems (EMS) as ways to improve environmental and business performance (e.g. Florida and Davison, 2001; Darnall et al., 2008). While both improved environmental and business performance are basic goals of green management, we believe that a more specific and extensive conceptualization is warranted. When definitions of the exact term “green management” are found in the literature, they often appear either too vague or incomplete. One of the most recent studies on green management defined the term as practices that produce environmentally-friendly products and minimize the impact on the environment through green production, green research and development, and green marketing (Peng and Lin, 2008). With no mention of factors such as strategic integration or sustainability, we feel that this definition falls short of what it means to embrace true Perspectives on green management 1049 green management, but recognize that developing a definition of the term was not the purpose of these authors. While researchers have made valiant attempts to develop conceptualizations and typologies, arriving at a widely-accepted definition of green management does not appear to have been a priority. Since it is a new term and there is not a clear and consistent definition of it, researchers and practitioners interpret green management in a variety of ways and this compounds the problems associated with defining and conceptualizing it. Some may view compliance with regulatory standards or a simple initiative to reduce paper consumption (i.e. requiring that all photocopying be double-sided) as green management. Others may feel that green management entails new corporate strategies, organizational restructuring, or a complete overhaul of manufacturing processes. The range separating these two viewpoints is vast, suggesting that there is a broad continuum or spectrum along which a variety of “green” business practices can fall, from the simple and easy to the complex and challenging. Banerjee (2001) suggests that the range of an organization’s environmentally-based strategies progresses from reactive to proactive; that organizations can resist or merely comply with environmental standards, or they can view environmental concerns as an opportunity to be innovative and gain a competitive advantage. Other researchers have also identified similar continuums of environmental strategies, models, typologies, and classifications (e.g. Hass, 1996; Freeman et al., 2000). With most organizational strategies, behaviors, and attitudes, researchers measure variables of interest with scales that indicate high, moderate, and low levels of such variables along some sort of continuum. For example, organizational commitment can be defined as “the degree to which an employee identifies with a particular organization and its goals and wishes to maintain membership in that organization” (Robbins and Judge, 2009, p. 79), and it can be measured using a questionnaire (e.g. Meyer and Allen, 1991). Each employee’s level of organizational commitment will vary along a continuum from low to high commitment. In a similar fashion, green management can be viewed, defined, and measured as any other variable related to organizational behavior. We believe that organizations will vary along a continuum ranging from low to high levels of green management, based on a definition that fully encapsulates the concept of green management. As research efforts progress our understanding of green management, we may find that one basic definition is not sufficient to describe the concept in its entirety and that it may actually be composed of different types of green management. Returning to the previous example of organizational commitment, researchers have identified three subcomponents: (1) affective commitment; (2) continuance commitment; and (3) normative commitment (e.g. Meyer and Allen, 1991; Meyer et al., 1993). Perhaps over time, through empirical research and scale development, we will see subcomponents such as zero waste, renewable energy, and socially responsible green management, based upon proposals and processes offered by researchers and practitioners (e.g. Anderson, 2004), emerge in the literature. However, before we attempt to derive subcomponents and multi-dimensional scales to measure green management, we need a general and comprehensive definition to serve as a common starting point. MD 47,7 1050 In addition to green management being a rather new term, the lack of a comprehensive and specific definition, and the confusion surrounding the range of practices that actually constitute green management, another obstacle in determining a solid definition of the term is that green management is typically labeled with a different nomenclature such as corporate environmentalism, environmental management, or corporate sustainability. Not only are there different terms by which we label green management, but each of these terms are defined and interpreted in a variety of ways by a diverse group of researchers and practitioners. For example, some suggest that the concept of corporate environmentalism revolves around the objective of reducing waste, which in turn contributes to the organization’s ultimate goal of making money (Costello, 2008). However, others define corporate environmentalism as something much more broad and profound than financial returns derived from waste reduction. For instance, one working definition of the term identifies corporate environmentalism as “the organization-wide recognition of the legitimacy and importance of the biophysical environment in the formulation of organization strategy, and the integration of environmental issues into the strategic planning process” (Banerjee, 2002a, p. 181). While this definition stresses the importance of environmental issues and the need to integrate these issues into the strategy of the organization, some factors that we believe are critical to the practice of green management seem to be missing or need to be specified; factors such as continuous improvement, sustainability, and innovation. Environmental management and corporate sustainability are also terms that have been used in close conjunction with or as a substitute for green management. Both concepts seem to extend beyond simply reducing waste, and therefore more accurately embrace the ideal of green management than the description of corporate environmentalism offered by Costello (2008). Environmental management focuses on continuous improvement and environmental management systems have been looked upon with much favor by large organizations, policy makers, consultants, and researchers as an effective approach for proactively dealing with environmental issues (Kautto, 2006). However, we should note that some have defined environmental management simply in terms of economic profit (e.g. Denton, 1994). Corporate sustainability also stretches beyond waste reduction and requires continuous improvements to achieve its challenging objectives. In order for sustainability to be possible, according to Daly (1996), our economy must radically shift from a focus on growth to a steady-state economy, which requires that rates of consumption do not exceed rates of regeneration, rates of non-renewable resources do not exceed the rate at which sustainable renewable substitutes are developed, and the rates of pollution emissions do not exceed the assimilative capacity of the environment (Daly, 1991). Hawken (1993, p. 139) applies an economic golden rule to define what it means to be sustainable when he advises everyone to “leave the world better than you found it, take no more than you need, try not to harm life or the environment, [and] make amends if you do.” Borrowing from the basic premises of these terms, we feel the need to incorporate ideas such as continuous improvement and sustainable processes into the definition of green management. A comprehensive definition of green management Following careful examination of the preceding review and the additional historically-based, practitioner-based, and theoretically-based literatures concerning Perspectives on green management 1051 green management, several recurring concepts were identified. The recurrence of similar concepts across three different perspectives solidified the importance of their inclusion in the following definition of green management: Green management is the organization-wide process of applying innovation to achieve sustainability, waste reduction, social responsibility, and a competitive advantage via continuous learning and development and by embracing environmental goals and strategies that are fully integrated with the goals and strategies of the organization. Contributions, implications, and future research The main contribution of this article is the proposal of a new and comprehensive definition of the term green management. Through the exploratory analysis of the literature addressing historical, practical, and theoretical viewpoints, certain concepts emerged across all three perspectives, signaling the need for their inclusion in the definition. We believe that developing the definition via the examination of green management from multiple critical angles was a sound and thorough approach. However, we do not claim that the proposed definition is perfect, nor do we imply that it should automatically be accepted by all researchers in the field. We call upon such researchers to add their insights and engage in efforts to validate a definition that experts in the field will approve of and accept. If we aspire to do more meaningful and systematic research in the field, it is beneficial for everyone to study and measure green management within the same frameworks and using the same definitions and conceptualizations. Also, the information provided in this archival review and the progression toward a comprehensive definition may prove useful to the development of scales and questionnaires that measure green management. Currently, researchers define and measure green management in a wide variety of ways. While one study may measure green management in terms of the development and application of alternative energy sources, another study may measure green management in terms of recycling programs. It is difficult to meaningfully compare the results of these two studies because the green management variables are so different. Therefore, a comprehensive scale that includes the full spectrum of possible green management initiatives would be useful in helping researchers determine an organization’s level (or score) of green management and be able to meaningfully compare results and draw conclusions across studies. 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work_dbipgkfzzrdvvjcpmb5xqgxd5e	----	American Yoga 169 0026-3079/2014/5301-169$2.50/0 American Studies, 53:1 (2014): 169-181 169 Review Essay American Yoga: The Shaping of Modern Body Culture in the United States Sarah Schrank AMERICAN VEDA: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation—How I n d i a n S p i r i t u a l i t y Changed the West. By Philip Goldberg. New York: Harmony Books. 2010. THE GREAT OOM: The Improbable Birth of Yoga in America. By Robert Love. New York: Viking. 2010. HELL-BENT: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcendence in Competitive Yoga. By Benjamin Lorr. New York: St. Martin’s Press. 2012. 170 Sarah Schrank THE SCIENCE OF YOGA: The Risks and the Rewards. By William J. Broad. New York: Simon and Schuster. 2012. THE SUBTLE BODY: The Story of Yoga in America. By Stefanie Syman. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux. 2010. THEOS BERNARD, THE WHITE LAMA: Tibet, Yoga, and American Religious Life. By Paul G. Hackett. New York: Columbia University Press. 2012. YOGA BODY: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice. By Mark Singleton. New York: Oxford University Press. 2010. In a recent issue of The Baffler, cultural critic Jorian Polis Schutz points out the unfortunate truth that “yoga,” translated from Sanskrit to mean the “union” of body and spirit, has taken hold on a mass scale in America just as labor unions are newly beleaguered politically and economically. While the public idea of uniting the laboring body and spirit to a social warrant of corporate responsibility has weakened, the private investment in an individual union of body and psychic harmony has increased exponentially.1 Yoga Journal’s widely cited 2012 market study reports that over twenty million Americans practice yoga regularly and spend $10 billion a year on related classes, clothing, travel, and equipment.2 The popularity and profitability of yoga’s inward focus reflects other related trends such as a national obsession with obesity that, public advisories about caloric content aside, ultimately defines health as a private concern tied to indi- vidual responsibility and personal consumer choices.3 Even as we move toward a kinder and more inclusive healthcare system in the United States, its application still emphasizes individual behavior and cost-cutting, such as pushing employees in employer-paid plans to lower their blood pressure and lose weight; the most progressive insurance plans in fact prescribe yoga for heart health. Add to this a market for yoga-related jewelry, scents, and furniture and one could make the case that the capitalization on American illness has utterly reshaped an ancient system of Indian spiritual meditation, ripping it from its complex historical roots and replanting it in the shallow earth of corporate profit-sharing. Yet, amid the new studio franchises and Lululemon outlets, there are also organized efforts to move yoga out of the marketplace through donation-only studios, free classes, and community service. These are growing rapidly in Southern California, where I live and practice yoga, and Schutz pins his hopes for a new social movement on this emergent union between yoga’s physical practice and a sense of collective responsibility.4 Given the malleability of yoga as an American cultural form, we should not be surprised that it can be molded to a neoliberal ethos of individual- ism and an equally powerful urge to collectively transcend crass materialism. This enormous yoga growth industry has spawned an equally large interest in the history of yoga, its healing potential, and our cultural connection to India, nowhere better showcased than in the Smithsonian’s upcoming exhibition Yoga: The Art of Transformation.5 This interest is not new; the study of the foundational Hindu spiritual text, the Bhagavad Gita, for example, was a source of intrigue for nineteenth-century American intellectuals, most famously Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Yoga 171 who wrote in 1831 that “it was the first of books; it was as if an empire spake to us, nothing small or unworthy, but large, serene, consistent, the voice of an old intelligence which in another age and climate had pondered and thus disposed of the same questions which exercise us.”6 In American Veda: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation—How Indian Spirituality Changed the West, Philip Goldberg draws a direct line from Emerson’s transcendentalism and vast intellectual curiosity to contemporary yoga practice in the United States. For Goldberg, yoga is part of a Hindu spiritual tradition consisting of myths, texts, meditation, dietary practices, and philosophy that has traveled for almost two hundred years from India to the United States permeating many aspects of American culture including literature, fashion, and music. From Emerson’s study of the Gita, Goldberg traces the spread of Hinduism and its accompanying Vedic texts though varieties of late nineteenth-century New Thought, including Ernest Holmes’ “Science of Mind” and Madame Blavatsky’s Theosophical Society, arguing for an Indian connection to American modern- ist forms of mind-body spirituality, before discussing the influence of Swami Vivekananda. Vivekananda’s appearance at the 1893 Columbian Exposition’s Parliament of Religions in Chicago has been long accepted by historians to be the cultural watershed by which Hinduism and raja yoga (meditative practice rather than physical) were introduced to American audiences. Vivekananda, an energetic lecturer and traveler, who exchanged eastern spirituality for western capital to fight colonial rule and institute social reform in India, grounded yoga permanently in America when he established the Vedanta Society in San Fran- cisco in 1899. For Goldberg, Vivekananda’s savvy application of Hindu ideas to American religious practice would establish “a template for transplanting the core message of Vedantic philosophy into American soil.”7 It is also implied that Vivekananda forged the guru template for United States audiences hungry for spiritual uplift and foreign exotics. From here, in brief, Goldberg traces Vedic legacies through the modernist intellectual traditions of Aldous Huxley and Joseph Campbell; Paramahansa Yogananda’s Self-Realization Fellowship; the Beatles, Transcendental Meditation, and the Maharishi; hippies and LSD; the “science” of self-help to our present-day smorgasbord of yoga studios, meditation retreats, kirtan festivals, trendy diets, and exercise regimens that include asanas (postures) and pranayama (breathing exercises). American Veda is a fun read, remarkable in its encyclopedic sweep and a useful introduction to yoga’s spread through the west, but its analysis comes up short when one considers the historical context in which Vedic ideas were received in the United States. Goldberg collapses together scholarly nineteenth-century theological exploration with twentieth- century New Age culture across time and the dissemination of Vedic principles outward, across space, so that everyone from J.D. Salinger to Rhonda Byrne (of The Secret fame) are part of one, cosmically-united enterprise. This approach neither acknowledges the fact that Hinduism is only one of the many religious practices that have attracted American spiritual aficionados (the late twentieth- century embrace of Jewish Kabbalah is another example), nor does it consider 172 Sarah Schrank that the American interest in Veda was part of a far broader global exchange of modernist, cosmopolitan ideas. Goldberg’s perception of the transplantation of an authentic Indian cultural form to an immature, but welcoming, American context is not unique to Ameri- can Veda; it is commonly accepted in circles of yoga practitioners that what we do in studios and at retreats here in the United States is somehow inferior, more self-involved, and certainly more commercial than any yoga found in India. While not suggesting American yoga practice isn’t narcissistic, in Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice, Mark Singleton offers a radically dif- ferent perspective on its relationship to India. He argues that the modern physical practice that we consider hatha yoga in the Americas and Europe “is not the out- come of a direct and unbroken lineage….”8 Rather, contemporary yoga emerged from an Indian desire to modernize an old and, to Brahmin and Europeans alike, distasteful legacy of conjurers, magicians, and contortionists. Performing yogis caught the eye of nineteenth-century European observers who wrote tracts and treatises reflecting awe at the physical prowess on display and discernable horror at its freakishness, such as when ascetics lay on beds of nails, grew a lifetime’s worth of dreadlocks, or folded themselves into impossible postures. As David Gordon White has documented in his foundational work, Sinister Yogis (2009), yoga’s roots are not grounded in the Bhagavad Gita and the Yoga Sutras; yoga is much older and tied to ancient tales of yogis’ supernatural powers.9 To resist British rule and reshape a new Indian national identity, Hindus chose to clean up and repackage yoga “as the flower of Indian culture and Hindu religion.”10 Singleton suggests that “posture-based yoga as we know it today is the result of a dialogical exchange between para-religious, modern body culture techniques developed in the west and the various discourses of ‘modern’ Hindu yoga that emerged from the time of Vivekananda onward.”11 For English-speaking Indian gurus intent on presenting a modern Hinduism to the world, the traditional pos- ture practice with its associations with hucksterism and magic was inappropriate for transnational cultural exchange. Instead, yoga was presented as meditative, modern, and even scientific, with little in common with the physicality and contortionism of the ascetics. The mystery, then, for Singleton, is how did the gurus’ painstakingly re- freshed version of yoga come to absorb a vanquished physical practice and, by extension, how did this modern form become palatable for American audiences hungry for Indian spirituality? The answer is that, like the United States and Europe, India also encountered western physical culture, which tied eugenics, national identity, class anxieties, and the body to the new industrialism of the nineteenth century. As physical strength became less important for survival in industrial society, the body became more important as a site for identity forma- tion and purveyor of information to increasingly anonymous urban dwellers. Singleton notes, in a fascinating section on the international physical culture movement, that the regimens of famed bodybuilder Eugene Sandow and body faddist Bernarr Macfadden, publisher of Physical Culture magazine, “enjoyed an American Yoga 173 unparalleled vogue in India from the turn of the century onward. In combination with home-grown health and fitness regimes, [bodybuilding] was instrumental in shaping the ‘indigenous’ exercise revival from which modern postural yoga would issue.”12 As modern Indian yoga appropriated western calisthenics, strengthening the Indian body in both cultural and physical resistance to British rule, a new specimen of yogi emerged. Rather than the transgressive fakir, yogis emerged as models of Indian citizenship with sculpted physiques, muscular prowess, and eager followers. It was from this mélange of cultural practices—Indian meditation and breathing practices, Hindu spirituality, and western purposive exercise—Singleton asserts, that modern yoga sprung. By the mid-1920s and 1930s, hatha yoga had become adequately established to be streamed into the physical systems created by innovators like T. Krishnamacharya (Mysore Ashtanga, associated now with Sri K. Pattabhi Jois), Bishnu Ghosh (sequential hatha series, most commonly practiced in Bikram Choudhury’s “hot yoga” classes), and others who would shape posture patterns into their own “schools of yoga.” Singleton’s Yoga Body makes many contributions to the history of yoga in the west but his most important intervention is to utterly disrupt any claims to an “authentic” yoga in India, much less America; unlike American Veda’s emphasis on a seamless, transplanted Indian spirituality, Yoga Body presents a set of physical and meditative practices subject to the same forces of modernity as any other American or European cultural form. Part of the repudiation of superstition and sorcery was couching yoga in modern science, a feat begun in the 1840s by Bengali surgeon, Dr. N. C. Paul, who studied yogis’ seemingly otherworldly ability to suspend their breathing for extended periods of time, noting the therapeutic potential of slowing the intake of oxygen and, more importantly, the exhalation of carbon dioxide.13 How yoga has since been both assimilated into medical science and subject to unflattering scientific scrutiny is the focus of William J. Broad’s fast-paced The Science of Yoga: The Risks and the Rewards. Lambasted mercilessly by the American yoga community after an excerpt provocatively entitled “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body” ran in the New York Times, Broad has actually done what American yogis have requested for years: taken the practice seriously as a form of mental, physical, and spiritual therapy.14 One of the many delights of Broad’s study is his reminder that yoga’s ori- gins are also in Tantra, the belief that sex is the simplest path to ecstatic spiritual enlightenment. No small part of yoga’s disrepute, Tantra survived as an ancient, and popular, sex cult well into the twentieth century. While American yogis are taught in introductory classes that the original purpose of physical yoga, the asanas, was to permit Hindu monks to sit comfortably still in meditation, the breathing, rocking, and physical stimulation of kundalini yoga suggest other physiological effects at work. In the chapter “Divine Sex,” Broad culls the sci- entific literature on sex and yoga, including studies linking female orgasm and yogic breathing; yoga’s autoerotic effects; and the relationship between postures and sexual health. One especially thorough medical study reported that “novice 174 Sarah Schrank yogis told of improvements in all categories of sexual experience under inves- tigation—including desire, arousal, orgasm, and satisfaction.”15 This is heady stuff, especially when one considers that what research teams were studying were common postures combined with the breathing exercises standard in many yoga classes. The reason for the increase in practitioners’ sexual health was the relationship between the parasympathetic and sympathetic responses of the nervous system, with a balance struck between a relaxed, restive state and an adrenaline-infused “frenzy of tension, breathing, and pounding activity, as well as soaring heart rates and blood pressure.”16 As exciting as the erotics of yoga might be, the main effects of yoga on the body are more mundane, but potentially more important. One of the great claims of yoga teachers everywhere is that yoga’s rhythmic breathing floods the lungs and bloodstream with oxygen, rejuvenating mind and body. Moreover, and key to much of yoga’s attraction as a regular form of exercise, is the belief that yoga increases metabolism and cardiovascular activity, encouraging heart health and weight loss. Broad points to a variety of articles, studies, and exercise programs that claim incorporating yoga into one’s regimen will burn calories and reshape the body. When one seemingly authoritative study affirmed these claims in the 1990s, an entire new market in fitness yoga was born: “One of the flashiest pro- moters was YogaFit, a commercial style that originated in Los Angeles. . . . Beth Shaw, its founder, claimed that the vigorous style focused minds, trimmed fat, toned bodies, and provided ‘a tough cardiovascular workout.’ Her promotional literature, when enumerating the fitness benefits of the style, cited the number one payoff as ‘cardiovascular endurance.’”17 As persistent an idea as this continues to be, Broad argues instead that a closer look at more accurate science reveals the opposite to be true. Not only does yoga not radically improve cardiovascular performance, it actually lowers metabolism, a fact N. C. Paul uncovered in his primitive experiments on the effects of yogic breathing on the body. Broad is quick to note that while yoga might not be the secret to skinniness or Ironman-level athletic performance, there is plenty of credible evidence that it positively affects blood pressure, bone health, stress levels, sleep patterns, anxiety disorders, and depression. And, as any longtime yoga practitioner can attest, a regular practice can create such body awareness as to encourage weight loss through a better diet, increase strength and flexibility through repetition of movement, and reduce stress through practiced stillness and meditation. These features have, for many, led to much healthier lives and better fitness, but not because of yoga’s cardiovascular effects. This is a tough realization for Americans who want calorie burn in exchange for dedicated physical exertion and a single exercise to accomplish all of one’s fitness goals. In addition to having the above beneficial effects on body and mind, when incorporated into physical therapy regimens, yoga also can help heal acute and chronic injuries. Learning to balance the stretching and relaxing of specific muscles, usually under the watchful eye of an experienced practitioner, promotes American Yoga 175 the repair of common shoulder, back, and neck complaints. In the chapter “Heal- ing,” Broad draws a sharp distinction between trained medical professionals, aka MD’s with verifiable credentials, and yoga therapists, who may or may not have any medical training at all. In a section of The Science of Yoga at least as contro- versial as that on yoga’s injury risk, Broad takes to task an industry he feels has been negligent in standardizing and regulating a field purporting to be, in fact, a type of therapeutic medical practice. Even if a yoga therapist is a highly skilled healer, it is hard for us to know “because the United States has no regulatory body for yoga therapy. None. Zip. Nada. Few countries do. The field is, on the whole, completely unlicensed and unregulated. Even so, the yoga community has managed to foster the illusion that the United States has a system in place for the accreditation of yoga therapists. That New Age fiction is helping to promote the field’s growth. Unfortunately, it is also deceiving people, some desperate for healing because of serious illnesses and injuries.”18 Broad’s frustration is palpable because he believes that yoga does heal and his research points to the science that proves it. And, furthermore, a program of yoga therapy that carefully monitors one’s range of motion and incremental progress can be life changing for people whose physical limitations prohibit participation in yoga classes. Unfortunately, with no regulatory control, it’s difficult to know who is legitimate and who is not. And with grandiose claims rampant in the commercial health and fitness fields, yoga runs the danger of appearing a potentially hazardous con. American yoga’s relationship to showmanship, if not outright fraud, is long and colorful and at the heart of the story are the Bernards, Pierre and Theos, the biographical subjects of Robert Love’s The Great Oom: The Improbable Birth of Yoga in America and Paul G. Hackett’s Theos Bernard, The White Lama: Tibet, Yoga, and American Religious Life. Pierre Bernard, the Iowa-born Perry Baker, reinvented himself in the early twentieth-century as a yogi with tremen- dous powers of self-hypnosis, which he sold to “anyone who wished to enroll at the College of Suggestive Therapeutics and learn the secrets of what he called ‘trained occultism.’”19 Love’s history of Bernard’s rise to fame and notoriety as the founder of the Tantrik Order in San Francisco in 1900, his stint in jail for sexual impropriety, and his establishment of the physical culture camp and artists’ retreat, the Clarkstown Country Club (CCC) in Nyack, New York, reads like a soap opera of socialites, circus freaks, and health faddists. While focused primarily on Bernard’s wheeling and dealing with families like the Vanderbilts, The Great Oom captures an element of east coast 1920s bohemianism that is rare in cultural accounts of the era. It is weird and wonderful to read of folk singer Pete Seeger’s early childhood spent in Nyack with his parents and two brothers: “The Seegers . . . fit nicely into the demographic of the growing Clarkstown Country Club membership: talented young people a bit perplexed by the times and bright enough to be interested in the larger matters of life. The terrible futility of the Great War had given rise to serious philosophical yearnings for Connie and Charles [Seeger], as it had for many of their contemporaries. In Bernard they found not just a teacher but a veritable savior.”20 At the peak of his powers, Bernard hosted 176 Sarah Schrank professional baseball teams and elephants at his camp, lectured on free love to packed audiences, and advised Hollywood stars on the yogic path to a better life. Stymied by the Great Depression, Pierre Bernard would be shoved off his throne as the king of American yoga when his half-nephew, Theos, attracted national attention for five months of spiritual study in Tibet. As Love puts it, “the myth of the White Lama was born, perfectly timed to supplant Bernard’s legendary fame as the once dangerous Oom the Omnipotent.”21 Theos Bernard has proven one of the more elusive characters in the history of American yoga, celebrated in the 1930s for his physical beauty, intellectual gravitas, travels to Tibet and India, publications (especially Hatha Yoga: The Report of a Personal Experience), and his disappearance and presumed murder in the Punjab in 1947 at age 39. Unfortunately, Paul G. Hackett’s dense biog- raphy does little to lift the shroud of mystery surrounding the self-described White Lama. Multitudinous and lengthy passages from primary sources disrupt the narrative while a lack of broader context makes what could be a fascinating tale of transnational exchange and personal gain into a mess of names. While Hackett’s research of archival collections is impressively thorough, it is difficult to tell where Theos Bernard’s actual adventures ended and where his deceptive self-promotion began because there is not enough analytical framing of the story. It’s simply hard to gauge what is happening in Hackett’s account. In some way, perhaps, Theos’shadowy place in the canon speaks to a larger irony that, at some peril to their reputation, American yogis have historically sidestepped scientific and cultural legitimacy while Indians worked diligently for over a hundred years to shed yoga of its association with magic and hucksterism in favor of scientific validity. In her highly readable history, The Subtle Body: The Story of Yoga in America, Stefanie Syman traces other such transmutations of yoga in the United States. The subtle body, Syman explains is the “network of channels (nadis) and wheel-like vortices (chakras)” that is distinct from the physical body and key to transforming “mere human flesh into a vehicle for the divine.” The purpose behind hundreds of years of hatha yoga was the control and channeling of the subtle body through the vessel of the physical.22 It is remarkable, Syman notes, that this foreign and seemingly esoteric practice has had such popularity in the United States accepting, as we must, that its American form has morphed from anything that we might consider “authentic” Indian yoga. With a yoga-in-America origin story similar to that of Goldberg’s American Veda, tracing the transcendentalists through Vi- vekananda’s 1893 appearance at the Chicago World’s Fair, The Subtle Body soon moves in another direction. Of particular interest to Syman is how American fans, often rich and female, created environments hospitable to yoga’s practice and dissemination, shaping celebrity gurus in the process. Pierre Bernard, the subject of Robert Love’s The Great Oom, occupies a chapter while Theos is depicted as a more legitimate scholar of yoga’s deepest principles, establishing himself as a highly sought after, and expensive, teacher. Though it would later turn out that Theos had fabricated many of his exotic foreign adventures, he “disdained American Yoga 177 Pierre Bernard’s ‘bread and circuses,’ and he wanted to steer well clear of the ceaseless gawking and outright derision, the multiple legal entanglements, and questionable business dealings that had plagued Pierre and his club.”23 Though Syman does not directly connect the Bernard family with myriad other gurus, either Indian or American, who set up shop in the United States before World War II, the implication is that altogether the cult of celebrity yoga grew, attracting Americans of means such as President Woodrow Wilson’s daughter, Margaret. In this intriguing section, Syman outlines how a woman of such elite social status, barely a generation past the winning of women’s suffrage, could follow her guru to India where she became Nistha Devi, and spend the rest of her life on an ashram before dying in Pondicherry in 1944.24 But the question arises, of course, as to how the relatively esoteric spiritual pursuits of the wealthy progressed to produce a physical yoga practice wildly popular with middle-class Americans. Goldberg addresses this directly with his discussion of Self-Realization Fellowship founder, Paramahansa Yogananda, his 1946 publication of the best-selling Autobiography of a Yogi, and his brilliant mass-marketing of mail-order yoga guides: “The Self-Realization Fellowship Lessons were the spiritual equivalent of the groundbreaking Sears Roebuck catalog, the Amazon.com of the era.”25 Syman does little with Yogananda beyond pointing out his significant contribution to establishing Los Angeles as the center of American yoga and his wide appeal to intellectuals and writers like Christopher Isherwood and Gerald Heard. For Syman, the mainstreaming of American yoga began in earnest when the Latvian Eugenie Peterson studied with the great yogi Krishnamacharya in Mysore, reinvented herself as Indra Devi, and set up shop on Hollywood’s Sunset Boulevard in 1947.26 Coming from a professional dance background, Devi taught a yoga practice that resembles what we do in hatha classes today. According to Syman, Devi “taught a form of yoga that was intensely physical and made purifying your body the necessary first stage of spiritual training. As a result, Devi’s yoga—Hatha Yoga—met far more of the needs of Hollywood seekers, especially female ones, who were under constant pressure to look radiantly youthful, than did the yoga you’d encounter at the Vedanta Society.”27 Devi’s physical approach, her belief that exercise prolonged youth (as demonstrated in her best-selling 1953 publication Forever Young, Forever Healthy: Simplified Yoga for Modern Living), and her celebrity clientele turned yoga into an appropriate exercise regimen for everyone from Marilyn Monroe to suburbanites keen to shed unwanted weight. Syman notes that when the hippies and their psychedelic leaders Allen Ginsberg and Timothy Leary went looking for spiritual enlightenment in the 1960s, they “didn’t need to plumb ancient or obscure texts. All they needed to do was pull out a book geared toward middle- class housewives and peer inside.”28 It is significant that the “psychedelic sages,” cheating though they might have been by using LSD and other psychotropic drugs, restored yoga to the kind of meditative transcendence that American and Indian yogis had been working for years to convert to a systemic physical practice. One of Syman’s closing points 178 Sarah Schrank is that this difficulty in balancing the physical, spiritual, and psychological would doom yoga in the 1970s and 1980s, diminishing its popularity to the point of parody; yoga would have little place in the world of the Jane Fonda workout, yuppie materialism, cocaine, and other cultural manifestations of Reagan’s sped-up corporate America. Not only were the hippie associations of “yoga, with its promise of physical-psycho-spiritual transmutation [a] far too hopeful endeavor for this generation [. . .], presenting yoga as physical fitness had far more deleterious effects. What had at first seemed a tactically savvy move— yoga was no longer threatening and foreign—had made the discipline quite vulnerable. Now people were just as apt to compare yoga to jogging or aerobics as they had been in an earlier generation to compare it to Zen.”29 Making yoga more physical simply put it in competition with new exercise fads; making yoga more meditative and spiritual suggested flaky New Age–ism. Syman suggests in the book’s conclusion that yoga’s resurgence in the 1990s was not the result of baby boomers returning to the fold in search of gentler exercise; instead, its newfound popularity was the result of yogis BKS Iyengar, Sri K. Pattabhi Jois, and especially Bikram Choudhoury successfully marrying the individualism and religiosity of American society to ritualistic, and punishing, physicality with the promise of personal improvement, longevity, and bodily health. Somewhere out of the mess of voodoo economics, aerobics, NAFTA, globalization, and the end of the Cold War, yoga returned, newly invigorated with the legitimacy of exercise science, materialism, and flattering workout pants. The extremes to which Americans can take twenty-first-century yoga are documented in Benjamin Lorr’s riveting tale of his own transformative experi- ence, Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcen- dence in Competitive Yoga. With Yoga Journal’s soothing pastel palette and “everyone-can-do-it” presentation quickly established as the cushy end of the yoga spectrum, Lorr opens his book with a harrowing account of Backbending Club, in which yogis train for competition by walking their hands up and down a wall, squeezing themselves into tighter and tighter backward folds. The workouts are competitive, performed in secret, and painful: “At least three of the women bending on the wall next to me have little blue X’s of surgical tape peeking out from below their sports bras. The surgical tape was put there by a chiropractor earlier in the day. The women are doing backbends so severe their ribs are pop- ping out of place. The chiropractor pops them back in and the women return for more backbends.”30 Backbending Club is for a select few competitive yogis only; Lorr focuses more attention on the transformative power of a regular Bikram practice, a type of hatha yoga established in the United States in the 1970s by Bikram Choudhury, student of Indian yoga great, Bishnu Ghosh. After three months of regularly practicing and sweating in yoga classes that can be heated to as much as 112°, Lorr lost forty-five pounds, slept less but better, could place his palms on the floor after being unable to touch his toes, and grew lots of new muscle. But rather than Hell-Bent unfolding like so many prescriptive guides to health and enlightenment (which, I have to admit, I was expecting given that the American Yoga 179 front-cover blurb is by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love), it provides a far more interesting exploration of both the limits and joys of yoga as well as a pretty frank exposé of Bikram Choudhury himself. Notorious for his conspicu- ous consumption, suing of yoga studios for stealing his posture series, sexually harassing students and employees, and his grueling and expensive (upwards of $10,000 per six-week course) teacher-training, Choudhury taps into the tradition- ally American cult of yoga personality. Lorr writes of his initial encounter with Bikram Choudhury at a teacher-training session of 380 students in San Diego, crammed into an impossibly hot tent: The throne is befitting only Bikram: lord over this room of plastic and mirrors, prom king of the apocalypse, our very own babbling Lear. The base is a thick black leather sofa chair that looks stolen from a suburban basement. The upholstery long cracked from the humidity and temperature changes, it is accordingly, always draped in several bright orange beach towels. A small table on the right holds a small bowl of hard candy, which Bikram likes to suck on during class to soothe his throat, and a tall glass of water, which will grow almost erotic at our most desperate moments. But the real magic of the throne is above: two ribbed plastic ventilation tubes hang down. They connect to a personal air conditioner, pumping cold air down on Bikram’s head as he teaches.31 Choudhury’s personality traits aside, his yoga franchise continues to at- tract thousands of new students and, frankly, works wonders for as long as you are willing to put up with the dank carpeted studios, the heat, and the identical twenty-six postures. But even as dedicated a practitioner as Lorr is forced to ask, “How much of the yoga is the yoga?”32 In other words, could another exercise or diet regimen have such dramatic effects? Lorr concludes, provocatively, that much of what we like about yoga is a placebo effect, “because what is clear is if you engage in a protracted Bikram Yoga binge, you will experience some very clear, very demonstrable side effects. They will convince you that something profound and active is going on within you. This would also explain why people in the West, especially the most ardent supporters, become so obsessed with the authenticity and ritual of yoga. The five thousand years of silent open-eyed medi- tation, chanting, hand gestures, urine drinking, and rigid Sanskrit pronunciations enhance the placebo effect. They enhance our confidence.”33 And Lorr concludes with the well-taken point that the ancient yogis understood the placebo effect better than anyone—that’s what the mind-body connection, or union, behind yoga was all about from the beginning. American yoga is deeply interwoven into our “alternative” cultural practices and our fitness preoccupations in ways that in any other context might seem contradictory, if not altogether hypocritical. But, if we move beyond the debate 180 Sarah Schrank over American yoga’s “authenticity,” a debate the titles under review here dem- onstrate is pointless, we end up in a much more interesting place. In the United States today, yoga is a thoroughly mainstream activity, something seemingly impossible only twenty years ago, and speaks to a sincere desire to feel better and seek a mind-body connection within the materialism of corporate capitalist society. For many Americans, as demonstrated by the twenty million who prac- tice yoga, this is a conflict they can live with. For those who want yoga to mean more, there are social activist groups like Off the Mat, Into the World, which meld global environmental and economic justice movements to local community efforts.34 Meanwhile, if you want to practice yoga on a paddleboard with your dog, there’s a class for that; if you want to practice in a roomful of nude yogis, you can do that too. Like it or not, yoga is also becoming part of educational curricula; in a July 1, 2013 ruling, a San Diego Superior Court judge ruled that yoga is not a religion and thus appropriate for students in Encinitas, California, ending a Right-led lawsuit to prevent yoga from being taught in public schools.35 This recent literature on American yoga lays bare an impressive and genu- ine effort to grapple with a complicated dynamic between transnational history, cultural appropriation, and therapeutic science that can quickly overwhelm any scholar. Anyone interested in what yoga is or means or can offer will benefit greatly from any of these texts. Missing from all of them, however, is a feminist, class, or race-based analysis of who is participating, and why. Everyone who has taken a yoga class recently will note the disproportionate number of women and, depending on where you are in the country, the cross-section of ethnic groups in the room. None of the works above consider the significance of locality to yoga, significant in a country the size of the United States, nor do they press the point of how yoga can serve as an acceptable, “healthy” form of body scrutiny and discipline for women and men in a society with increasingly narrow body norms and hyper-sexualized body awareness. I believe yoga can save your health, perhaps even your life, and there are other works that suggest precisely how, but it is naïve in twenty-first century America to think that an embodied practice like yoga is functioning outside the commodified and deeply problematic social system of body monitoring and display we encounter every day.36 Notes 1. Jorian Polis Schutz, “The State of Stretching: Yoga in America,” The Baffler (22: 2013), 38–39. 2. “Yoga in America,” 2012 Market Study, Yoga Journal, http://www.yogajournal.com/press/ yoga_in_america. Accessed May 13, 2013. 3. See Kathleen LeBesco, “Neoliberalism, Public Health, and the Moral Perils of Fatness,” Critical Public Health 21:2 (June 2011), 153–164 and Lauren Rauscher, Kerrie Kauer, and Bianca Wilson, “The Healthy Body Paradox: Organizational and Interactional Influences on Preadolescent Girls’ Body Image in Los Angeles,” Gender and Society 27:2 (April 2013), 208–230. 4. Schutz, 41. 5. While this review essay addresses only the most recent works on yoga in the United States, the historical and cultural study of yoga includes other fine titles including Joseph S. Alter, Yoga in Modern India: The Body Between Science and Philosophy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2004); Elizabeth De Michelis, A History of Modern Yoga (London and New York: Continuum, http://www.yogajournal.com/press/yoga_in_america http://www.yogajournal.com/press/yoga_in_america American Yoga 181 2004); and Sarah Strauss, Positioning Yoga: Balancing Acts Across Cultures (Oxford: Berg, 2005). 6. Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1831 journal entry, cited in Philip Goldberg, American Veda: From Emerson and the Beatles to Yoga and Meditation—How Indian Spirituality Changed the West (New York: Harmony Books, 2010), 32. 7. Goldberg, 82. 8. Mark Singleton, Yoga Body: The Origins of Modern Posture Practice (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 33. 9. David Gordon White, Sinister Yogis (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2009), 39. 10. Singleton, 80. 11. Ibid., 5. 12. Ibid., 89. 13. William J. Broad, The Science of Yoga: The Risks and the Rewards (New York: Simon and Schuster, 2012), 18–22. 14. William J. Broad, “How Yoga Can Wreck Your Body,” New York Times Magazine, January 5, 2012. 15. Broad, The Science of Yoga, 183. 16. Ibid., 184. 17. Ibid., 64–65. 18. Ibid., 150. 19. Robert Love, The Great Oom: The Improbable Birth of Yoga in America (New York: Viking, 2010), 21. 20. Ibid., 185. 21. Ibid., 282. 22. Stefanie Syman, The Subtle Body: The Story of Yoga in America (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2010), 4–5. 23. Ibid., 139. 24. Ibid., 158. 25. Goldberg, 117. 26. Syman, 180. 27. Ibid.,183. 28. Ibid.,197. 29. Ibid., 264–67. 30. Benjamin Lorr, Hell-Bent: Obsession, Pain, and the Search for Something Like Transcen- dence in Competitive Yoga (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2012), 11. 31. Ibid., 146. 32. Ibid., 274. 33. Ibid., 279. 34. http://www.offthematintotheworld.org/. Accessed July 1, 2013. 35. http://www.utsandiego.com/news/2013/jul/01/encinitas-schools-yoga-trial-judge-ruling. Accessed July 1, 2013. 36. Amy Weintraub’s Yoga For Depression: A Compassionate Guide to Relieve Suffering Through Yoga (New York: Broadway Books, 2004), for example, is an especially useful and gentle approach to yoga-as-treatment. http://www.offthematintotheworld.org/ http://www.utsandiego.com/news/2013/jul/01/encinitas-schools-yoga-trial-judge-ruling 182 Sarah Schrank 
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work_de6ecag7unagvk2lg2akl2ek64	----	Multiview of virtual currency adoption  and systemic risks : an action research on  service businesses in the UK Mohamad, MRA, Wood­Harper, T and Ramlogan, R Title Multiview of virtual currency adoption and systemic risks : an action  research on service businesses in the UK Authors Mohamad, MRA, Wood­Harper, T and Ramlogan, R Type Monograph URL This version is available at: http://usir.salford.ac.uk/id/eprint/37679/ Published Date 2014 USIR is a digital collection of the research output of the University of Salford. Where copyright  permits, full text material held in the repository is made freely available online and can be read,  downloaded and copied for non­commercial private study or research purposes. Please check the  manuscript for any further copyright restrictions. For more information, including our policy and submission procedure, please contact the Repository Team at: usir@salford.ac.uk. mailto:usir@salford.ac.uk See discussions, stats, and author profiles for this publication at: http://www.researchgate.net/publication/266963967 Multiview of Virtual Currency Adoption and Systemic Risks An Action Research on Service Businesses in the UK PATENT · SEPTEMBER 2014 DOI: 10.13140/2.1.3952.3843 READS 156 3 AUTHORS, INCLUDING: Mostafa Mohamad Manchester Business School 18 PUBLICATIONS 0 CITATIONS SEE PROFILE Trevor Wood-Harper The University of Manchester 111 PUBLICATIONS 2,231 CITATIONS SEE PROFILE Available from: Mostafa Mohamad Retrieved on: 31 December 2015 http://www.researchgate.net/publication/266963967_Multiview_of_Virtual_Currency_Adoption_and_Systemic_Risks_An_Action_Research_on_Service_Businesses_in_the_UK?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_2 http://www.researchgate.net/publication/266963967_Multiview_of_Virtual_Currency_Adoption_and_Systemic_Risks_An_Action_Research_on_Service_Businesses_in_the_UK?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_3 http://www.researchgate.net/?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_1 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Mostafa_Mohamad?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_4 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Mostafa_Mohamad?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_5 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Mostafa_Mohamad?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_7 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Trevor_Wood-Harper?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_4 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Trevor_Wood-Harper?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_5 http://www.researchgate.net/institution/The_University_of_Manchester?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_6 http://www.researchgate.net/profile/Trevor_Wood-Harper?enrichId=rgreq-a3ee22a3-a6df-4038-80cd-2d57540f2a3d&enrichSource=Y292ZXJQYWdlOzI2Njk2Mzk2NztBUzoxNTI4OTYxOTI2NTEyNjVAMTQxMzQ2NDcwMTk0MA%3D%3D&el=1_x_7 Multiview of Virtual Currency Adoption and Systemic Risks An Action Research on Service Businesses in the UK Mostafa Mohamad Associate Lecturer in financial and digital Innovation Trevor Wood-Harper Professor of IS and Systemic Change Ronald Ramlogan Senior Research Fellow in Innovation Economics 20 th August 2014 1 Table of Contents 1. Research Overview: ........................................................................................................... 2 2. Research Methodology: ..................................................................................................... 5 2.1. Research Approach and Design: .............................................................................. 5 2.2. Project team and their involvement: ........................................................................ 7 3. Potential Contribution: ....................................................................................................... 8 4. Research Timetable:........................................................................................................... 9 References: ............................................................................................................................... 10 2 Multiview of Virtual Currency Adoption and Systemic Risks: An Action Research on Service Businesses in the UK Mostafa Mohamad Trevor Wood-Harper Ronald Ramlogan mostafa.mohamad@mbs.ac.uk atwh@mbs.ac.uk ronnie.ramlogan@mbs.ac.uk Manchester Business School Manchester Business School Manchester Business School 1. Research Overview: Our research focuses on the impact of Virtual Currency (VC) adoption on the British service businesses. We follow the systemic multiple perspectives theory (Linstone, 2010) to explore the Technical, Organizational, and Personal (TOP) changes that organizations conduct to issue Bitcoin account and use it as Cryptocurrency. Falling to manage such changes creates TOP risk and decrease the rate of adopting and accepting Bitcoin as alternative of physical cash. According to Orlikowski (2008), both technologies and organizations are subject to huge changes in form and function. The spread of the Internet around the world, the Web 2.0 diffusion, and cloud computing together with the new technical and cultural predispositions of modern society, allowed a huge increase in the adoption of VC. This type of currency is traded on open source cyberspace (i.e. the mining) that aims for creating communications and interactions among traders (Guo et.al, 2011). Individuals and organizations use this currency as a computing power to pay for or exchange products/services and record these transactions in a public ledger. Access to Bitcoin can be through wallet software, personal computer, web application, but mostly through special Bitcoin mobile applications. In this virtual space, things like words, human relationships, data, and wealth are all computer-mediated. Today, the VCs are reducing the boundary between physical and virtual worlds, leading huge changes in many types of business including their technological, organizational, personal progressions. When adopting and modeling the surroundings of the Bitcoin we are no longer modeling open source software rather than we enter the world of business modeling (Carugati & Rossignoli, 2011). Both of the Bitcoin as (as an Information System) and the organizations (as Business Systems) will be planned to set up at the same time (Eriksson & Penker, 2000). Service sector represents 80% of the British Economy in terms of trading and transaction size and 65% of the GDP (Office of National Statistics, 2012). Adopting virtual currency was a critical tool to improve the flexibility and competition among UK service firms to attract more customers and build a track their needs through electronic databases (Yermack, 2013). In the UK, there are only ten sectors that approved Bitcoin as a money substitute (The Telegraph, 10 th Jan 2014). All of them are service industries such as transportation, entertainment, real estates, food, shipment, fashion, and placement (Office of National Statistics, 2013). Recently, Cumbria University adopted Bitcoin as a money substitute and had to conduct different technical, organizational, and personal changes to succeed (Times Higher Education, 21 st 2014). The environment of adopting Bitcoin represents a wicked problem situation that requires an inclusive Kantian approach to reconcile the disparate views of individuals, groups, and organizations that constitute this type of information society. "People only see what they are mailto:mostafa.mohamad@mbs.ac.uk mailto:atwh@mbs.ac.uk mailto:ronnie.ramlogan@mbs.ac.uk 3 prepared to see" (Ralph Waldo Emerson cited in Holmes, 2007). Interestingly enough that it has been said long time ago and we all know it very well, yet ironically people fail to accept, digest or even see other perspectives or different point of views other than their own (Mitroff & Linstone, 1993). The “Multiperspectives Theory” developed by Harold Linstone in the mid eighties provides a concrete Kantian view that forces us to distinguish “how we are looking” from “what we are looking at” (Linstone, 1989; 321). In our research this theory shifted our attention from “What are the challenges of adopting Bitcoin” toward “How different service businesses see these risks from different technical, organizational, and personal view”. These three perspectives naturally present varying attributes and offers insights on a system that is unattainable with the others. Each perspective offers different archetype (See table 1) through which humans experience the world (and themselves) and order the world of phenomena, so that they are able to have experience (Mitroff, 1983: 84). Table 1: Characteristics of the TOP perspectives Adopted from Linstone (1989: 313) Before writing this proposal, we reviewed 20 journal articles and conducted pilot phone interviews with nine service firms adopted Bitcoin. This pilot was necessary to negotiate access and develop our interview guide for phase 1 of data collection. In figure 1 below, we present different TOP risks and changes required to manage them. 4 From the technical perspective, design of the ledger technologies imposes different reporting systems for business that adopt Bitcoin. Trading through Bitcoin mining in the UK (https://bitbargain.co.uk/) requires creating a virtual community for the firm and its staff and customers. This electronic median reflects the faster information sharing, processing, which need new work routines and bylaws. Access to Bitcoin wallet and the mining cyberspace is facilitated through web and mobile applications. Each of them reflects different dialogue and interfaces sequence. How businesses change their electronic payment systems in a way that become easy for them to synchronize with Bitcoin wallet. How they change their payment and record keeping policies to facilitate the technological changes. Further, businesses need to plan how to prevent system errors, response time, and maintain the system periodically. System control, recovery, and monitoring are also significant technical issues that businesses need to plan while adopting Bitcoin. From the organizational perspective, we will explore how service firms create new value propositions for Bitcoin customers than to direct branch customers (Grinberg, 2011). How they attach new payment system such as peer-to-peer communities with no third parties involved as EBC, Fed, and other government organizations. Public institutions and many governments around the world are facing hard work due to the difficulties of regulating a system coming from the evolution of IT and cryptography. In fact, Bitcoin system is able to substitute public institutions as EBC and Fed controls and guarantees, with crypto proofs (e.g. Block chain). Our participants emphasized that Bitcoin is attracting more customers from the informal economy where they do not have formal bank accounts rather than electronic payment platforms such as Pingit, Ukash, Neteller, OKPay, NoChex, NatWest Pay Your Contact, and Paym. They argue that Bitcoin should advantage the regulators by tracking the informal economy and securing additional sources of taxes. On the other side, the central bank and fellow financial institutions argue that money laundering and operational risks in managing deposits will destroy the financial system in the country (Kaplanov, 2012). Bankers think of Bitcoin as a threat, while one of our participants (from Pakistan) argues that Bitcoin can improve the practices of Islamic banking and help David Cameron’s strategy of transforming London to the biggest Islamic banking city to attract the middle East investments (UK Trade & Investment, 2013; The Independent, 29 th Oct 2013). Suppliers of service firms and other partners in the supply chains need to change the contractual terms and receivables documentation cycles to reflect shorter lead-time and flexible payment procedures. From the personal view, we question the distinction between cultural and technological preferences of a society (Abrahamson, 2011). These two elements, in fact, influence the digital artifacts (e.g. Bitcoin) used by the businesses and society. For the authors technologies are also subject to periods of gradual evolution. There are some areas in which we can find really exciting applications of VC that also demonstrate the similarities between virtual and real world (Orlikowski & Scott, 2008). Our participants refer to personal issues such as reputation-based incentives, trust, fraud, public media, social networks, anonymity, and privacy as key risks that face them when adopting Bitcoin (Bogliolo et.al, 2102). The three perspectives complement each other and offer a rich picture of systemic risks associated with Bitcoin adoption (Reid & Harrigan, 2013; Blundell-Wignall, 2014). https://bitbargain.co.uk/ 5 Figure 1: TOP Views of Adopting Bitcoin in the Service Companies in the UK The authors’ pilot study 2. Research Methodology: 2.1. Research Approach and Design: To consider different views we follow inductive action research to understand the TOP risks associated with Bitcoin adoption by service businesses. This includes deploying qualitative data collection methods to produce a grounded framework (Glaser & Strauss, 1967). This process of generating theory comes through dense descriptions of the themes of subjective meanings that actors attach to their behavior, then via testing causal hypotheses deduced from a pre-set theory. In this approach, researchers follow a reflective process model that contrast between “what we know from theory” and “what we found in the action experiment” (Baskerville and Wood-Harper, 1998). Our research does not aim to build theoretical themes, however, some replication features will be revealed for how best a Bitcoin adoption strategy 6 can be applied and a systemic model for risk management can be developed (Reason & Bradbury, 2013). Our research includes two phases of data collection. In the first stage, we will conduct semi- structured interviews (Denzin & Lincoln, 2011) with finance, IT, and CRM executives working with service firms working in the UK. Out of the ten businesses approved Bitcoin, a quota sample of nine firms have been selected (Miles & Huberman, 1994) (See table 2). Table 2: Research Methods - Phase 1 This stage of data collection is expected to take place between November 2014 and Jan 2015. Interview guide has been developed, but will be examined further on two participants to ratify it. There are three versions of the interview guide that target finance executives, IT executives, and customer service executives. The interviews will also include some questions about demographic characteristics, cultural issues, financial performance, and technical breakdowns. The average time of interview is expected to be 30 minutes and a copy of the interview transcription will be sent back to participants to make sure a rich picture (Checkland & Poulter, 2010) of the situation and problems is agreed. The output of phase 1 is a conceptual framework that clarifies the essential technical, organizational, and personal changes that service firms need to conduct when adopting Bitcoin. Template analysis using NVivo software will be used to analyze data along with drawing rich picture of different technical, organizational, and personal perspectives (See Harrop, Gillies and Wood-Harper, 2012). GraphPad is computerized data analysis software that will be used to draw factors analysis of our numerical (economic and 7 demographic) indicators. Such analysis will offer insight on the relationship between adoption of Bitcoin and the firm’s performance and the overall contribution to the GDP of the service sector in the UK. In the second phase, we use our conceptual framework as a lens to understand the ongoing action project in Cumbria University. Professor Jem Bendell at the University founded an institute for leadership and sustainability that deliver two courses addressing the role of complementary currencies in economic and social systems. These two courses are titled as “Certificate of Achievement in Sustainable Exchange” and “Postgraduate Certificate in Sustainable Leadership”. In between Jul-Sep 2015, we will conduct periodical semi- interviews and observations with a sample of three academics (the chair and two program directors), three administrative staff (IT, tuitions, and admission managers), and students enrolled in those two courses. Data collected at this stage, will help us comparing and contrasting between TOP risks in education and other service business. Then a final framework will be developed to guide policy makers and practitioners on how to successfully adopt Bitcoin and conduct the appropriate transformations to manage the TOP risks (Brito & Castillo, 2013). . 2.2. Project team and their involvement: Our team includes three investigators who will collaboratively perform the research tasks listed in table 3 to deliver a high quality research up to the world class standards. Mostafa Mohamad will act as a principle investigator with his accumulated experience with virtual and electronic payment technologies. His recent journal peer-reviewed journals and book contributions highlight the role of complementary currencies and alternative payment tool in economic and social systems. Mohamad has experience leading participatory action research projects that aim to explore the socio-technical issues of information system development in the networked society. This august Mohamad has been granted the best paper award at the Academy of Management (AoM) presenting his work at the IFIP WG 8.2. Prior to his award, he got a grant from the National Science Foundation of the United States for his doctoral research presented at the AoM OCIS group in 2012. Trevor Wood-Harper is a co-investigator who has almost four decades experience in the areas of information system development, system thinking, and action research. In addition to his 210 publications, he is an associate editor of the European Journal of Information Systems and continues on the Information Systems Journal. Wood-Harper led many successful research projects as a founding chair of £100,000 of the Computing and Information Systems at the University of Salford in 1990. Ronald Ramlogan is a co-investigator who has an extensive expertise as an economist and innovation systems specialist. Previously, he led research projects funded by the ESRC and others funded by the Centre for research in Innovation and Competition at Manchester Business School. He has highly cited journal papers in the areas of evolutionary and complex systems with an empirical emphasis on innovations in medical technology. Recently, he 8 conducted a research about the new perspectives on the place of the economy in society. His expertise covers the political economy, multinational corporations, ICT adoption in emerging economics, and Innovation in the education sector. Table 3: Roles of the team members 3. Potential Contribution: Our research explores the required transformations from TOP perspectives to help professionals and policy makers highlight the systemic risk associated with adopting Bitcoin as a “money substitute”. In doing so, this research offers three outputs as follow: a. A systemic literature review of the TOP risks associated with Bitcoin adoption in service firms. 9 b. A conceptual framework of successful adoption of Bitcoin and managing systemic risk in service firms. c. A Conceptual framework of successful adoption of Bitcoin and managing systemic risk in education services. d. Factors analysis of TOP risks and the contribution to the GDP in service sectors. All together contribute to the growing body of literature on the impact of virtual currency (as IT enabler) on business practices and the overall society (e.g. Ritter & Gemünden, 2004; Banker 2006; Shin, 2008). For Bitcoin in particular, our research uncovers the innovative ways that service firms re-engineer their processes to manage the TOP risks and build a sustainable ecosystem (Nakamoto, 2008; Barber et.al, 2012; Blundell-Wignall, 2014; Holdgaard, 2014). ` 4. Research Timetable: Our research is expected to take place between October 2014 and January 2016 as shown in table 4 below. All team members will be involved to conduct these activities according to a preset budget. 30-40% of the total budget will be allocated as salaries in a monthly base, while 50% will be dedicated to the fieldwork and data analysis. 10-20% will be dedicated to writing-up, conference presentations, and journal submissions. Table 4: Timetable for the research activities 10 References: Abrahamson, E. 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Academy of Management Review, 8(3), 387-397. Mitroff I, Linstone, H. (1993).The Unbounded Mind, Breaking the Chains of Traditional Business Thinking. Oxford University Press: New York. Nakamoto, S. (2008). Bitcoin: A peer-to-peer electronic cash system.Consulted, 1(2012), 28. Harrop, A. Gillies and A. T. Wood-Harper. (2012) "Viewpoints-'Actors' and "Clients': why systems dynamics needs help from soft systems thinking and unbounded systems thinking." Journal of the Operational Research Society. 63, no. 12: 2. Office of National Statistics. (2012). Industrial strategy: UK sector analysis. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/industrial-strategy-uk-sector-analysis [Accessed in 17 th August 2014]. Office of National Statistics. (2013). UK Service Industries: definition, classification and evolution. Available at: http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/naa1-rd/national-accounts- articles/uk-service-industries--definition--classification-and-evolution/index.html [Accessed in 17 th August 2014]. Orlikowski, W. J. (2008). Using technology and constituting structures: A practice lens for studying technology in organizations. In Resources, co-evolution and artifacts (pp. 255- 305). Springer London. Orlikowski, W. J., & Scott, S. V. (2008). Sociomateriality: Challenging the Separation of Technology, Work and Organization. The academy of management annals, 2(1), 433- 474. http://bitcoin-expert.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/Thesis.pdf http://bitcoin-expert.net/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/Thesis.pdf https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/industrial-strategy-uk-sector-analysis http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/naa1-rd/national-accounts-articles/uk-service-industries--definition--classification-and-evolution/index.html http://www.ons.gov.uk/ons/rel/naa1-rd/national-accounts-articles/uk-service-industries--definition--classification-and-evolution/index.html 12 Reason, P., & Bradbury, H. (EDS.). (2013). The SAGE handbook of action research: Participative inquiry and practice. Sage. Reid, F., & Harrigan, M. (2013). An analysis of anonymity in the bitcoin system: Springer. Ritter, T., & Gemünden, H. G. (2004). The impact of a company's business strategy on its technological competence, network competence and innovation success. Journal of Business Research, 57(5), 548-556. Shin, D. H. (2008). Understanding purchasing behaviors in a virtual economy: Consumer behavior involving virtual currency in Web 2.0 communities.Interacting with computers, 20(4), 433-446. UK Trade & Investment (2013). UK Excellence in Islamic Finance. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/253141/ UKTI_UK_Excellence_in_Islamic_Finance.pdf [Accessed in 19 th August 2014]. The Independent. (29th Oct 2013). Islamic investment: David Cameron moves to make London a Mecca for Middle East wealth. Available at: http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/islamic-investment-david-cameron- moves-to-make-london-a-mecca-for-middle-east-wealth-8909570.html [Accessed in 18 th August 2014]. The Telegraph. (10th Jan 2014). Ten places where you can spend your bitcoins in the UK Available at: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/10558191/Ten-places- where-you-can-spend-your-bitcoins-in-the-UK.html [Accessed in 19 th August 2014]. Times Higher Education. (21 st 2014). Bitcoin to be accepted by university for fee payment. Available at: http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/news/bitcoin-to-be-accepted-by- university-for-fee-payment/2010698.article [Accessed in 19 th August 2014]. Yermack, D. (2013). Is Bitcoin a Real Currency? , National Bureau of Economic Research. https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/253141/UKTI_UK_Excellence_in_Islamic_Finance.pdf https://www.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/253141/UKTI_UK_Excellence_in_Islamic_Finance.pdf http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/islamic-investment-david-cameron-moves-to-make-london-a-mecca-for-middle-east-wealth-8909570.html http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/islamic-investment-david-cameron-moves-to-make-london-a-mecca-for-middle-east-wealth-8909570.html http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/10558191/Ten-places-where-you-can-spend-your-bitcoins-in-the-UK.html http://www.telegraph.co.uk/technology/news/10558191/Ten-places-where-you-can-spend-your-bitcoins-in-the-UK.html http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/news/bitcoin-to-be-accepted-by-university-for-fee-payment/2010698.article http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/news/bitcoin-to-be-accepted-by-university-for-fee-payment/2010698.article 
work_df4gw4ls5ffulisazcoyh6jemm	----	European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 European journal of American studies 7-2 | 2012 Special Issue: Wars and New Beginnings in American History “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of American Cultural Nationalism after 1815 Jaap Verheul Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/ejas/9638 DOI : 10.4000/ejas.9638 ISSN : 1991-9336 Éditeur European Association for American Studies Référence électronique Jaap Verheul, « “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of American Cultural Nationalism after 1815 », European journal of American studies [En ligne], 7-2 | 2012, mis en ligne le 03 avril 2012, consulté le 01 mai 2019. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/ejas/9638 ; DOI : 10.4000/ejas.9638 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 1 mai 2019. Creative Commons License http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/ejas/9638 “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of American Cultural Nationalism after 1815 Jaap Verheul Just as 1776 saw the birth of political independence for the United States as a new nation, the year 1815 saw the quickening of its quest for cultural independence. The year that finally brought an end to the War of 1812 was the starting point for a wave of national pride in which Americans redefined their own national purpose, their collective cultural identity, and – perhaps most of all – their relation to the Old World. This recalibration of the transatlantic ties and the fundamental changes it brought to the American perception of Europe are perhaps the most intriguing and problematic features of the emerging American nationalism that characterized the early nineteenth century. It fed a vitriolic anti-European rhetoric that soon informed American foreign relations and economic policy, and would never completely disappear from the American intellectual horizon. But it also changed the way Americans defined what it meant to be a great nation. 1 The cultural dialogue with the Old World was crucial to the emergence of a new era of cultural nationalism in the United States. As Henry Adams famously put it: “In 1815 for the first time Americans ceased to doubt the path they were to follow. Not only was the unity of their nation established, but its probable divergence from older societies was also well defined.” That departure from “older societies” was particularly critical, for Adams believed that the United States had finally escaped from the “Old-World development” and could define its national ethos, character and identity in contrast to Europe. By not only adopting its own political system, but also following an independent course in social, religious, literary and scientific development, he felt, “the difference between Europe and America was decided.” Since it was henceforward inconceivable that the United States would revert to European models and ways of thinking, Adams concluded that “a new episode in American history began in 1815.”1 “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 1 2 Although Adams and others have argued that a new American cultural nationalism developed in self-confident opposition to the Old World, the powerful cultural thralldom to Europe was not broken that easily or suddenly. In fact, the American quest for nationality shows the familiar complexities of a cultural decolonization process.2 Although American intellectuals redefined Europe as a useful “other” against which they could construct their own collective identity, they long retained a legacy of European standards of civilization and esthetics. More importantly, they were thoroughly influenced by European ideas about the relationship between culture and nation. Ironically, the cultural differentiation with the Old World was informed by new standards of nationhood that were developed in England, and in particular in continental Europe, the romantic laboratory of nationalism of the early nineteenth century.3 1. The Tenacity of Trans-Atlantic Ties Until the young republic entered its second war with the former mother country, few of its citizens expressed concerns about the cultural identity of their nation. When Americans pondered the rising glory of their nation, it had mostly been as an “Empire of Liberty,” as Jefferson famously named it, which had explored a new system of government based on freedom and equality. As Joyce Appleby argues, the first generation of Americans who inherited the Revolution felt that the War of Independence simply had not supplied “the shared sentiments, symbols, and social explanations necessary for an integrative national identity.”4 Although the revolution had provided the nation with shared histories, documents and sentiments, and foreign travelers already noticed distinctive American characteristics, the ideal of a national culture took a longer time to emerge. The revolutionary generation had defined nationhood characteristically in terms of political, social and economic participation, and had little interest – or accomplishments, for that matter – in culture and refinement.5 It took another war to start that process of cultural nationalism. 3 While they treasured their political independence and nationalism, prior to 1815 most Americans embraced the cultural ties with the Old World. As Gordon S. Wood emphasizes, the revolutionary generation still thought in terms of a translatio imperii and “never intended to create an original and peculiar indigenous culture. […] They were seeking not to cut themselves off from Europe’s cultural heritage but to embrace it and in fact to fulfill it.”6 The revolutionary generation had been emphatically cosmopolitan, and if anything, aimed to import as many fruits of Enlightenment culture from Europe into their young nation as possible. Jefferson and other founders lived parts of their lives in Europe, mentally if not physically. These Americans were not seeking to separate themselves from western civilization, but saw themselves as members of a cosmopolitan community, a “trans-Atlantic intellectual fraternity.”7 In the concept of culture that had developed during the Enlightenment, all civilized people belonged to the same family of nations, and all nations were marching towards the same goal of human perfection and artistic achievement. 4 David Hackett Fischer and others have reminded us that Americans clung to the English language and folkways with feelings of nostalgia, even if they vehemently rejected English political tyranny, autocracy and monarchy.8 London remained the undisputed cultural center of the new republic. For standards of taste in painting, sculpture, architecture, literature, poetry and even language, Americans still referred to England. 9 “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 2 As far as there was an element of cultural transatlantic competition, it was because Americans were eager to prove that they, too, could contribute to the common achievements of humanity. Also linguistically, the former colonies shared an undisputed common cultural core with England, even if its inhabitants sometimes diverged from the prescribed practice of pronunciation and spelling. Early proposals to discard the English language were therefore laughed away. As one delegate at the Constitutional Convention joked: “it would be more convenient for us to keep the language as it was, and make the English speak Greek.”10 5 Yet within this seemingly unbroken transatlantic civilization early calls for American cultural independence could be heard, even if they did not coalesce into a shared program of cultural nationalism. Significantly, anti-English feelings did make their way into some early proposals to liberate American English from the linguistic norms of the former mother country, challenging of the most obvious forms of shared cultural heritage. The lawyer and lexicographer Noah Webster would become the most outspoken proponent of a separate American dictionary and orthography. As he already insisted in 1789: “As an independent nation, our honor requires us to have a system of our own in language as well as government.” His attempt to “declare American linguistic independence” was largely practical and had been informed by ideas about development and standardization of languages that were current in Europe. 6 Recognizing that language was an essential ingredient of cultural identity, Webster was convinced that a uniform national language was a requirement for “political harmony” and national unity, and would help to “inspire us with a suitable respect for our own national character.” 11 He firmly rejected Anglophilia and repeatedly warned that the linguistic ties with “a transatlantic nation” were the result of perilous foreign cultural influences on American taste and manners. In a flood of political essays he continued to caution that the American Revolution could not be completed if his country would remain culturally dependent on England. To Webster’s dismay, however, his warnings fell on deaf ears or met with ridicule, as most of his collocutors preferred a more gradual development of the American language. He was forced to tone down his reform proposals and it was only well after 1815 that his dictionary was widely adopted and Webster became the “Schoolmaster to America.”12 7 Similarly, indigenous writers who tried to develop an authentic style had difficulty in receiving recognition from American readers and critics during the first decades of independence. The authors known as the Connecticut Wits, who celebrated their own society but modeled their work on English literary styles, met with some success. But the literary career of a more original writer such as Charles Brockden Brown, who developed his own style independent from English literary norms, was bitterly short-lived. Lack of sales and popularity as American novelist drove him to spend his last years as political pamphletist and editor of his own magazines.13 8 Charles Brockden Brown was only recognized and heralded as an early American literary nationalist in 1815, five years after his death. His first biography, which was published in that year, started off with a sharp condemnation of the difficulties Brown had faced in competing with English authors. His close friend and biographer, the dramatist and painter William Dunlap, now hailed Brown as one of the first adventurers of American fiction “who first saw the propriety of men in a new and better political state, throwing off the shackles of an absurd prejudice in favour of European opinions and writings, as they had thrown from them the proffered chains and rejected the pretensions of “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 3 European tyranny.” As if to enlist his protagonist in a new struggle for cultural independence, Dunlap reminded his readers that Brown had identified the “remoteness of their situation from the ordinary range of European politics and influence of European ambition.”14 Following Dunlop in his praise, other writers such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and William Hickling Prescott in the subsequent decades also posthumously rediscovered Brockden Brown as the father of a truly indigenous American literature.15 9 Until the War of 1812, the American society treasured its political independence and economic prowess, but remained well-embedded in the cultural traditions of the Old Word. Put differently, although the War of Independence and the debate over the Constitution had created a strong sense of statehood, the new republic was not yet united by a cultural nationalism, which presupposed a unique, shared culture. It would take another war to push the United States into an era of nationalism that fostered ideas of exceptionalism and cultural isolation. 2. The Second War for Independence Accentuating the end of warfare as a new beginning for the nation, the War of 1812 was already dubbed a “Second War for Independence” by the first history of the war that was published in 1815.16 This second battle for freedom was not only fought with guns, however, but also became a battle of words. The war marked the beginning of a true communication revolution in which a host of new periodicals, newspapers and new publishing houses connected the American citizens and formed a national forum of opinion that was vital for the construction of a national identity.17 These new means of communication were used to calibrate and interrogate the relation to the Old World. 10 Even when the War of 1812 was still being fought on the high seas and the American continent, Americans prepared for what one scholar called “a campaign of periodicals” against the former mother country by starting literary and cultural journals to express their new national sentiment. Some magazines explicitly referred to the parallel between the two battle fields. The Democratic leaning Port-Folio, for instance, encouraged its writers to “emulate the ambition, diligence and zeal that have so eminently characterized our gentlemen of the sword,” and hoped the United States would in a few years “become as renowned in literature, as she is in arms.”18 11 Between 1815 and 1830 no less than thirty one new periodicals were founded. Many of these journals encouraged native writers to rise against foreign interference and shed intellectual homage to England. Among them was the Portico started in 1816 in Baltimore, the self-professed “Rome of the United States,” by wealthy literati who aimed to meet European standards of culture, not only by erecting monuments, constructing buildings and founding museums, but also by raising a new generation of “native genius […] to produce a literature that would be a worthy asset to America’s reputation.”19 The new journal decried “the literary sycophants who would Europeanize America,” explicitly defied British magazines and their reviewers, and claimed their own national literature, and – almost as important – language. “Americans,” the editor of the Portico boasted, “are perfectly competent to carry on the ‘war of words’ with any Europeans.” Instead of leaning on foreign education, they were to “exercise [their] own talents.”20 12 It was the North American Review, however, that would rapidly become the most influential magazine of the republic, unmodestly claiming to print “the best that has been said and thought.”21 The magazine was founded in May 1815 by William Tudor, a wealthy “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 4 merchant who is credited with the first reference to Boston as “the Athens of America.” Just returning from Europe, he intended his new periodical as a rival to leading British magazines he had read there, such as the Edinburgh Review and the London-based Quarterly Review. Transatlantic cultural rivalry was essential to Tudor´s publication project. His magazine aimed to foster genuine American culture by countering the criticism of American society and culture that was voiced by British periodicals. “The spirit of the work was national and independent as regarded foreign countries,” Tudor explained.22 In its pages collective opinion was formed about politics, history, science and literature in the American republic, but it also closely watched new ideas, developments and—most of all—recent literature that originated from Europe. In spite of its nationalistic agenda, it remained emphatically transatlantic and comparative in its approach and tastes, and for instance eagerly debated English romanticism and German philosophy. As Tudor intended, the North American quickly became the most important forum for the new cultural nationalism that spread within the young nation. 23 3. The Quest for National Character In its first years, the North American Review most of all expressed the ambitions of the cultural elite that dominated Boston intellectual life, as Tudor managed to recruit many of these Brahmins to write for his journal. A fitting opening volley in the new battle of words was delivered in 1815 by the Boston physician Walter Channing. Dr. Walter, who would become the nation´s foremost obstetrician, was the younger brother of William Ellery Channing, the author and clergyman who would become the founder of the Unitarian church and one of the most influential intellectual leaders of Boston. 24 In a long article that was printed in two issues of the first volume of the Review, the young doctor voiced his concern for national literature and the arts. He accused his fellow Americans of a “delinquency in that, to which every other civilized nation chiefly owes its character,” namely in producing a distinctive and original national literature. Painting a large canvas that placed the new republic in the family of civilizations, he warned that “the great events of our history” would be insufficient to confer “national character” on the United States if it remained without original intellect and “extraordinary men of genius.” Unfortunately, it was precisely in this department that he found his country deficient. The doctor sadly concluded that the United States lacked “the pride of a nation,” a literature that could do justice to its “national peculiarities,” such as climate, landscape, social institutions and history, and hence would be essentially original. “Unfortunately for this country, there is no national character, unless its absence constitutes one,” Channing concluded.25 13 Channing directed his tirade above all against the cultural subservience of his compatriots to England, the former colonizer and recent enemy, as he firmly deplored “the dependence of Americans on English literature, and their consequent negligence of the exhortation of their own intellectual powers.” After identifying the “slavery to a common tongue” as one of the main causes of the literary dependence of the new republic, he went on to analyze the intricate relations between language and literature. How futile it was, he conceded, to “describe Niagara in language fitted for the falls at London bridge.” It was only in the language of American Indians, he suggested, that one could find authentic beauty and “genuine originality.” The Native Americans who refused “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 5 to attend an American school, he suggested, probably realized “the debilitating effects of an English education on this national literature.”26 14 But the apprehensive doctor also placed blame on the disadvantageous situation of the literary market and deplored the fact that American authors depended on the “literary tyranny” of the English critics and reading public, because their American readers were “too liberal and patriotick [sic] to allow the excellence of domestic manufacture.” He explained this dependence on English literature, which had prevented the blossoming of American originality, from the colonial origins of the American republic, and pondered that perhaps “colonies may not be the favourites of the muses.” Channing suggested related historical explanations for the surprising “barrenness of American Literature,” such as the lack of a publishing infrastructure or patronage, which would allow for professional authors. But most of all he blamed his compatriots for the lack of “genuine intellectual courage” to resist the enslaving foreign influences of English literature.27 15 Walter Channing’s contributions to the earliest issues of the North American Review have been described as the first expression of self-conscious literary criticism in the United States.28 If sometimes haltingly and convoluted, he developed a novel language of cultural nationalism that explored such essential themes as cultural influence, literary originality, criticism, taste, national language, and the relation between individual genius and national pride. Although all of these ingredients had a longer genealogy, he was blending them into an argument that was new in at least two important ways. First, he was defining national greatness in cultural terms, rather than in those of constitutional republicanism, and hence broadened the demarcation of nationhood. He argued that national identity not only implied victories in the traditional arenas of warfare and politics, but just as much in the fields of the arts and sciences. This is why language and literature, the topic of his articles, became so important for the creation of “national character.” As another contributor to the North American Review would summarize this concern a few years later: “The rank that people take among nations is not measured by its population, wealth and military power, but often by the number of its distinguished individuals of former ages — and often by its superiority of its men of letters.”29 But Channing was also keenly aware that these accomplishments not only required men of genius to express the national particularities, but just as much the participation of indigenous critics, patrons, publishers, and audiences of citizens who appreciated and shared that national culture. 16 Second, defining the greatness of the United States within the family of nations implied a new comparative perspective. In a sharp break with the Enlightenment notion of human unity, Channing started to draw cultural boundaries between his own nation and the influences from the Old World. He effectively divided the common cultural core that had united England and its colonies into separate civilizations on both sides of the Atlantic. He assumed that each nation expressed its specific identity in its own literature, language en other peculiarities. In short, national identity not only implied specific intuitions and social arrangements, but also an indigenous culture, language, customs, and manners that grew out of specific local geography and circumstances. This implied a nationalized concept of culture in which the unique identity of a nation, the “national peculiarities,” were expressed in a range of forms, such as literature, language, morals, religion, social institutions and politics. From this unitary perspective of authenticity, “foreign” influences suddenly became pernicious. This was the main reason why the doctor warned against the contamination by European culture. “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 6 4. Under the European Influence Intriguingly, the ideas about authenticity, national genius and national identity that Channing and his compatriots voiced, were influenced by notions about nationalism that were emerging in Europe. Connected to the Old World Europe by ties of trade and learning, the Boston elite was well-informed about current developments in European thought and many graduates of Harvard spent one or two years in Europe to complete their studies. Two years before war broke out Dr. Channing had studied in London and Edinburgh where he had mingled with the elites of these two centers of intellectual innovation. After the war of 1812, however, many of them avoided England and rather travelled to the European continent. Influenced by the publication of an English translation of Madame De Staël’s popular book about Germany, the universities of Göttingen and Berlin became a destination of choice for a new generation of pioneers of European culture, such as Edward Everett, George Ticknor, George Bancroft and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. There they absorbed German ideas about linguistics, folklore, history and national culture that were developed by Johann Gottfried von Herder and the brothers Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. 17 It was no coincidence that Walter Channing’s publication was prompted by a review of August Wilhelm von Schlegel’s works that had appeared in the London Quarterly Review earlier that year. Schlegel, who had been the travel companion of Madame De Staël, became one of the most important philosophers and disseminators of the romantic movement in Germany who forcefully stimulated an interest in the national origins of literature and the arts. In the reviewed lectures Schlegel had assessed the factors that had facilitated the development of dramatic literature in different countries from classical Greece to modern times. His comparison between the level of civilization and refinement of various nations not only discussed the role of language, criticism and taste, but most of all underlined the necessity of superior genius to achieve originality and resist the imitation of classical examples. 18 Although Schlegel was not yet widely known in the United States Channing was quick to adopt many of his categories and terms.30 He explicitly responded to the claim, quoted at the head of his first article, that there were so many connections between nations in the modern world that “intellectual originality may justly be regarded as one of the greatest phenomena in nature.” Nothing is of greater importance, the reviewer had suggested, than the manner in which “a bold and inventive imagination erects a fabric entirely of its own creation,” independent from the progress of other countries.31 Dr. Channing measured the development of his own nation against the standards of authenticity that were established by this romantic theory of national character. Significantly, he referred in seventy-five instances to the concepts of “nation” and “country,” used forty-five times a version of the words “peculiar” and “original,” and repeatedly cautioned against the contagion of “foreign” influences. 19 Although Channing expressed much praise for Germans thinkers, he was just as likely influenced by ideas about the relation between culture and national character that had been developed in England and Scotland. His argument bears close resemblance, for instance, to the doctrine of associationism that had been developed in Britain during the eighteenth century, which held that taste depended on the association with national or individual ideas or images. This meant that aesthetics were not absolute but flourished “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 7 within a specific national context. As was explained by the Scottish clergyman Archibald Alison, who had popularized this theory, a national scenery only aroused “emotions of sublimity and beauty” by mental associations that were determined by a specific historical and national context. This Scottish aesthetic theory could easily be mobilized to argue for a distinctiveness of American cultural expressions that sprung from the specific landscape and historical circumstances of the United States. Walter Channing seemed almost to quote Alison when he found that “the remotest germs of literature are the native peculiarities of the country in which it is to spring. These are diversified beyond all estimation, by the climate and the various other circumstances which produce them.”32 20 As Channing’s use of German and Scottish cultural terminology illustrates, American intellectual rivalry with the Old World coincided with an implicit dependence on European norms and criteria for excellence in literature and scholarship. At the same time, Americans explored and developed essentialist conceptions of Europe as an “other” against which they defined their own emerging civilization. These two intellectual developments received urgency and new meaning in the wake of the recent war, which became the cradle of American nationalism. 5. Winning the War of Words After Walter Channing had sounded the opening shots in the new battle of words in 1815, his intellectual peers around the North American joined his quest of nationality. As if they were working on a collective program, these American intellectuals began to tackle the various questions of American cultural identity in their publications, lectures and addresses, sometimes explicitly, but more often inserted in reviews or other occasional articles. While they spoke from individual viewpoints and reached different conclusions, the transatlantic relation with the Old World was the dominant basso continuo which provided a common structure for this intellectual debate. Some were merely comparing literary and cultural achievements on American soil with established European standards of taste, as had been done during the first decades after the American Revolution. But more and more they engaged in a discourse about difference that underlined the inherent originality and authenticity of American art as it was grounded in experiences, democratic principles, natural geography and indigenous peoples only to be found in the New World.33 21 It was Walter Channing’s younger brother Edward Tyrell Channing, soon to become the first Harvard professor of Rhetoric and Oratory, who perhaps best summarized the new creed of cultural isolationism and militant resistance to foreign influences, when he stated in the 1816 volume of the Review: that the literature of a country is just as domestick [sic] and individual, as its character of political institutions. Its charm is its nativeness. It is made for home [… ] A country then must be the former and finisher of its own genius. It has, or should have, nothing to do with strangers. 34 In similar vein, the question of the specific American contributions to literature, poetry and language was discussed in the North American and other periodicals in the United States, where some authors voiced a buoyant perspective on the prospects of their nation in comparison to Europe, and others shared the guarded pessimism that had marked Walter Channing’s first essays. “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 8 22 The virtual battle over ideas soon translated into the real world as the American republic took concrete measures to curb European influence on its side of the Atlantic. When Congress passed its first tariff bill on April 27, 1816 to protect indigenous industry against European competition, it had explicitly included books with a duty of 15 percent, only exempting colleges and other scholarly institutes. After no one less than Thomas Jefferson, in his capacity as president of the University of Virginia, had petitioned for a repeal of that duty on the importation of books, the Senate in 1822 flatly refused to budge, citing arguments that seemed lifted from the debate Walter Channing had initiated. The Senatorial committee not only feared that foreign books would inundate the literary market, but also pointed at the grave danger of “these means of foreign influence” posed for American schools, where “our youth are taught by British authors, wedded to their own institutions, and exultingly proud of their country, constitution and laws.” A discernment of the close association between ideas and national origins spoke from its observation that “our government is peculiar to ourselves, and our books of instruction should be adapted to the nature of the government and the genius of the people.” Following the committee’s conclusion that these foreign books could lead to “habits of thinking adverse to our prosperity, unfriendly to our government, and dangerous to our liberties,” the US Senate upheld the tariff that intended to break the supremacy of European learning.35 23 One year later president James Monroe used similar arguments when he announced his famous doctrine which sought to prevent European intervention in the Western hemisphere. Since “the political system of the allied powers is essentially different” from that of the United States, he argued, his government considered “any attempt on their part to extend their system to any portion of this hemisphere as dangerous to our peace and safety.”36 The former colonial empire was not only ready to write back, but also proved prepared to act against European hegemony. 6. The Continuation of War by Other Means When Ralph Waldo Emerson presented his oration on the “American Scholar” to the members of the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Harvard on August 31, 1837, he mostly repeated what so many of his American friends and colleagues had been arguing during the decades before. The difference was perhaps that he declared the mission of cultural independence accomplished. After all, he famously announced that “[o]ur day of dependence, our long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to a close. […] We have listened too long to the courtly muses of Europe.” It has become somewhat of a trope to describe his famous lecture as America’s “Intellectual Declaration of Independence.” That epithet was craftily coined by Oliver Wendell Holmes in the hagiographical biography that he published in 1884, and has been tirelessly repeated ever since. Yet, as his biographer Robert Richardson dryly remarks, comparable language of cultural resistance had been heard around Boston so often that “it had become a standard undergraduate theme topic.”37 24 Rather than sounding the first “trumpet call” for a new war of independence, as Holmes suggested, Emerson was fighting a rearguard action in a cultural struggle that had already erupted in full force when the War of 1812 ended. In a sense, the quest for nationality that marked the first decades after 1815 was a continuation of that same war against the Old World by cultural means. As the writer James Fenimore Cooper had to “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 9 remind his readers in 1837 “it is much easier to declare war, and gain victories in the field, and establish a political independence, than to emancipate the mind.” Similarly, a few years later his colleague Edgar Allen Poe still felt the need to call for a “Declaration of War” in the battlefield of Letters to achieve what the Declaration of Independence had done for Government.38 25 The appeal of that bellicose metaphor was significant. After all, the American cultural nationalism that was propagated and negotiated after 1815 emerged from a struggle against a European culture that was now felt to be hegemonial and menacing. American writers began to deplore American “dependence,” “servitude” and “idolatry” towards European cultural achievements, and theorized the dismal effects of European “influence” on indigenous genius and national pride. Just as Europeans after the Second World War began to define their own cultural achievements and national identities in opposition to an almost irresistible American imperialism of popular culture and consumerism, early Americans had done the reverse after the War of 1812.39 Both constructed a cultural opponent who threatened to seduce their compatriots with an overpowering culture that reflected foreign political and social ideals. And in both cases the cultural realignments followed fundamental shifts in international relations after a major war. 26 The new cultural nationalism that emerged after 1815 in the United States was not only a result of the transatlantic war. The domestic political power struggle that ended in an Era of Good Feelings, economic prosperity and territorial expansion all contributed to the upsurge of nationalism. At the same time sectionalism and the debate over slavery threatened national unity. Also, new ideas about national culture and romanticism broadened and changed the definitions of nationality which now included the arts, science and culture as areas of national pride. Yet the outcome of the war fostered a westward-orientated isolationism and turned the United States against European cultural and territorial aspirations. In that context the new transatlantic realignment and the emergence of a new national culture inevitably reinforced each other in the wake of the War of 1812. NOTES 1. Henry Adams, History of the United States of America During the Second Administration of James Madison (New York: C. Scribner’s Sons, 1891), 220-21, 41. See also Garry Wills, Henry Adams and the Making of America (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2005), 382. 2. Edward Watts, Writing and Postcolonialism in the Early Republic (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1998); Lawrence Buell, “American Literary Emergence as a Postcolonial Phenomenon,” American Literary History 4, no. 3 (1992). 3. Elise Marienstras, “Nationality and Citizenship,” in The Blackwell Encyclopedia of the American Revolution, ed. Jack P. Greene and J. R. Pole (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1994). Anthony D. Smith, National Identity (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1991); Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, 2nd ed., New Perspectives on the Past (Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2006). “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 10 4. Joyce Appleby, Inheriting the Revolution: The First Generation of Americans (Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap, 2000), 240. 5. For the post-revolutionary American interest in cultural achievements, see Kenneth Silverman, A Cultural History of the American Revolution: Painting, Music, Literature, and the Theatre in the Colonies and the United States from the Treaty of Paris to the Inauguration of George Washington, 1763-1789 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1987); Norman S. Grabo, “The Cultural Effects of the Revolution,” in The Blackwell Encyclopedia of the American Revolution, ed. Jack P. Greene and J. R. Pole (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1994); Michal J. Rozbicki, “The Cultural Development of the Colonies,” in The Blackwell Encyclopedia of the American Revolution, ed. Jack P. Greene and J. R. Pole (Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1994). 6. Gordon S. Wood, Empire of Liberty: A History of the Early Republic, 1789-1815 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 543 ff. 7. Ibid., 545. 8. David Hackett Fischer, Albion’s Seed: Four British Folkways in America. America, a Cultural History (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 55-57, passim. 9. Benjamin Townley Spencer, The Quest for Nationality: An American Literary Campaign ([Syracuse, NY]: Syracuse University Press, 1957). 10. John Hurt Fisher, “British and American, Continuity and Divergence,” in The Cambridge History of the English Language, ed. John Algeo (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 59. 11. Noah Webster, “Dissertations on the English Language, Etc. [1789],” in The American Literary Revolution, 1783-1837, ed. Robert Ernest Spiller (Garden City, NY: Anchor, 1967), 61. 12. David Simpson, The Politics of American English, 1776-1850 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1986); Eve Kornfeld, Creating an American Culture, 1775-1800: A Brief History with Documents (New York: Palgrave, 2001). 13. For the literary market in which Charles Brockden Brown operated, see Steven Watts, The Romance of Real Life: Charles Brockden Brown and the Origins of American Culture (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1994), 1-26, 131-63. See also Philip Barnard, Mark Kamrath, and Stephen Shapiro, Revising Charles Brockden Brown: Culture, Politics, and Sexuality in the Early Republic (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 2004), 143; Donald A. Ringe, Charles Brockden Brown, Twayne’s United States Authors Series, 98 (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1966). 14. William Dunlap, The Life of Charles Brockden Brown, 2 vols. (Philadelphia: John P. Parke, 1815), I, 3. Dunlap’s biography was based on an earlier manuscript that was commissioned by Brown’s family one year earlier, but had remained unfinished. The cited remarks about Brown’s resistance to European standards are written by Dunlop in 1815. Watts, Romance of Real Life, 225-26. 15. Spencer, Quest for Nationality, 80-81; [Edward Tyrrel Channing], “Brown’s Life and Writings,” review of The Life of Charles Brockden Brown by William Dunlap, North American Review, June 1819. 16. Samuel R. Brown, An Authentic History of the Second War for Independence: Comprising Details of the Military and Naval Operations, from the Commencement to the Close of the Recent War; Enriched with Numerous Geographical and Biographical Notes (Auburn, N.Y.: J. G. Hathaway, Kellogg & Beardslee, 1815), 3. 17. Daniel Walker Howe, What Hath God Wrought: The Transformation of America, 1815-1848, The Oxford History of the United States (New York: Oxford University Press, 2007). 18. John C. McCloskey, “The Campaign of Periodicals after the War of 1812 for National American Literature,” PMLA 50, no. 1 (1935): 264. For the paper war with England, see also Frank Luther Mott, A History of American Magazines, 1741-1850 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1957), 183ff. 19. McCloskey, “Campaign of Periodicals,” 267; Mott, History of American Magazines, 293-96. 20. Marshall W. Fishwick, “The Portico and Literary Nationalism after the War of 1812,” The William and Mary Quarterly 8, no. 2 (1951). “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 11 21. Quoted in James Playsted Wood, Magazines in the United States (New York: Ronald Press, 1971), 43. See also Mott, History of American Magazines. 22. William Tudor, Miscellanies (Boston: Wells and Lilly, 1821), 59; Mott, History of American Magazines. 23. Robert Ernest Spiller, The American Literary Revolution, 1783-1837, Documents in American Civilization Series (Garden City, N.Y.,: Anchor Books, 1967), 109-11; William Charvat, The Origins of American Critical Thought, 1810-1835 (New York: Russell & Russell, 1968), 174-75; Frank Luther Mott, A History of American Magazines, 1850-1865 (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1957), check pages. 24. Amalie M. Kass, Midwifery and Medicine in Boston: Walter Channing, M.D., 1786-1876 (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 2002), 5-59; Amalie M. Kass, “‘My Brother Preaches, I Practice’: Walter Channing, M.D., Antebellum Obstetrician,” Massachusetts Historical Review 1 (1999). 25. Although published in two subsequent issues under different titles, the two contributions should be read as one long argument, probably divided into two episodes for reasons of space. As usual, the contributions in the NAR were not signed, although most readers would be able to identify the author. [Walter Channing], “American Language and Literature,” North American Review, September 1815, 261; [Walter Channing], “Reflections on the Literary Delinquency of America,” North American Review, November 1815. 26. [Walter Channing], “Language and Literature.” 27. Ibid., 243; [Walter Channing], “Reflections on the Literary Delinquency of America.” 28. Albert D. Van Nostrand, Literary Criticism in America, The American Heritage Series, No. 16 (New York: Liberal Arts Press, 1957), ix, 3; Spiller, American Literary Revolution, 112-31. 29. [John Knapp], “National Poetry,” North American Review, December 1819, 170. 30. For the American discovery of Schlegel, see Charvat, American Critical Thought, 57, 60-63. 31. [Francis Hare-Naylor], “Schlegel’s Cours De Littérature Dramatique,” Quarterly Review, October 1814. Although dated October 1814, the article had only appeared in London early 1815. Its author was most likely the English historian and writer Francis Hare-Naylor who had lived in Europe for many years. Jonathan Cutmore, ed., Quarterly Review Archive, http://www.rc.umd.edu/ reference/qr/index/23.html. 32. [Walter Channing], “Reflections on the Literary Delinquency of America.” For the influence of Scottish aesthetic theory on William Ellery and Eward Tyrrel Channing see Charvat, American Critical Thought; Arthur W. Brown, Always Young for Liberty: A Biography of William Ellery Channing ([Syracuse, N.Y.]: Syracuse University Press, 1956), 192; Arthur W. Brown, William Ellery Channing (New York,: Twayne Publishers, 1962), 108; Robert E. Streeter, “Association Psychology and Literary Nationalism in the North American Review, 1815-1825,” American Literature 17, no. 3 (1945). 33. For an overview of some of these publications see Spiller, American Literary Revolution; Spencer, Quest for Nationality; Van Nostrand, Literary Criticism in America. 34. [Edward Tyrell Channing], “On Models in Literature,” North American Review, July 1816, 207. 35. Duty on Books, 622, HR, 17th Cong., 1st sess. (January 8, 1822); Duty on Books, 627, HR, 17th Cong., 1st sess. (January 8, 1822). The chairman of the Senatorial committee on finance that issued this report was John Holmes (1773 - 1843) of Maine. See also Catherine Seville, The International Copyright Law: Books, Buccaneers and the Black Flag in the Nineteenth Century (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 192. 36. President James Monroe’s seventh annual message to Congress, December 2, 1823. http:// www.ourdocuments.gov. 37. Robert D. Richardson, Emerson: The Mind on Fire, a Biography (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 263. See also Perry Bliss, “Emerson’s Most Famous Speech,” in The Praise of Folly, and Other Papers (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1923). 38. Spencer, Quest for Nationality, 78. “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 12 39. Richard Pells, Not Like Us: How Europeans Have Loved, Hated, and Transformed American Culture since World War Ii (New York: BasicBooks, 1997); Richard Kuisel, Seducing the French: The Dilemma of Americanization (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1993); Victoria De Grazia, Irresistible Empire: America’s Advance through Twentieth-Century Europe (Cambridge, MA: Belknap, 2005). RÉSUMÉS This article argues that the emergence of American cultural nationalism after the War of 1812 developed in self-confident opposition to the Old World, yet was thoroughly influenced by European standards of nationhood. American intellectuals who campaigned for cultural independence from Europe at the same time retained European standards of civilization and esthetics, and were thoroughly influenced by ideas about the relationship between culture and nation that developed in England and Germany. This articles discusses these postcolonial complexities are reflected in debates about American cultural identity in newly founded magazines such as the North American Review that long predated Emerson’s famous “Intellectual Declaration of Independence” of 1837. INDEX Keywords : aesthetic theory, Anglophilia, associationism, Berlin, Connecticut Wits, Constitutional Convention, cultural identity, Edinburgh, Edinburgh Review, England, Enlightenment, Europe, Göttingen, Greece, Harvard, literary criticism, literature, London, nationalism, North American Review, Old World, Phi Beta Kappa Society, Port-Folio, Portico, Quarterly Review, romanticism, Scotland, translatio imperii, United States, University of Virginia, US Congress, War of 1812, War of Independence AUTEUR JAAP VERHEUL University of Utrecht “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of A... European journal of American studies, 7-2 | 2012 13 “A Peculiar National Character”: Transatlantic Realignment and the Birth of American Cultural Nationalism after 1815 1. The Tenacity of Trans-Atlantic Ties 2. The Second War for Independence 3. The Quest for National Character 4. Under the European Influence 5. Winning the War of Words 6. The Continuation of War by Other Means 
work_dfsp4gpas5hprcbbeyx3dmcbqa	----	asci_yasemin Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Yıl: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 www.sosyalarastirmalar.com Issn: 1307-9581 LETTER TRADITION AND EPISTOLARY NOVEL IN AMERICAN LITERATURE Yasemin AŞCI* Abstract In this study, letter writing in other words epistle writing is focused on since it is the first literary form of the prose fiction in American Literature. Being commonly used in eighteenth century, this literary form is viewed as a means for the writers to display their political and social thoughts. Then, it began to be utilized for dealing with the issues on women who cannot give voice to their inner side and also their restricted love affairs as well as their role in the patriarchal society. After the emergence of one of the prose fiction novel, it continues to be used within the sub-genre of the novel, epistolary novel. The present study is generated through literature review method. and the main purpose of it is to depict the aim and use of the letter as a literary device, epistolary tradition and early samples of epistolary novel in American Literature. Achieving this purpose, letter and epistolary tradition and epistolary novel have been handled. As a result, it was seen that letters or epistles have great significance in prose fiction especially for novel that demonstrate the emotions and thoughts of the characters in detail. Keywords: Letter Tradition, Epistle, Epistolary Novel, American Literature. * Lect. Dr., Zonguldak Bülent Ecevit University, Çaycuma Vocational School, Department of Foreign Languages and Cultures ORCID: 0000-0002-2426-7338 Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 6 - Introduction Used as a vehicle in America for getting in touch with the people living in distant places in Europe, letter or epistle began to be used in Britain as a literary means in the eighteenth century. Since this different form of writing attracted most of the people in both in Europe and America, the writers in New World influenced by this writing style. The letter or epistles demonstrate both emotions and thoughts of the writers through characters’ relations. Thus, the writers focused on any issues that affected the public in new land. At first the issues handled were about politics and then social concepts. Additionally, primary social issues demonstrated in letters writing were on women who did not have any right in many part of the patriarchal society. Even though the first letters were seen as archival document regarded resources of biography or history, the latter ones began to be literary units in composing literature of America. Especially in 19th century, these units showed the social contact of the American society. In letters of which emergence was seen in 18th century as mentioned, the writers aim at displaying the issue on which they try to deal with in detail by the help of emotional and mental expressions. Doing that sometimes, they give place to reciprocal letter and sometimes the letters that do not have any responses. Whatever method they may be used in literary works, they help the readers to feel intimate to the correspondents. By the way, if the readers cannot see the responses by the addressee, they start to question the unwritten replies. In addition, they demonstrate the conversation ideal to which the people cannot access in any type of discourse. Letter writing form being the significant way in America mostly during the nineteenth century, turned into one of the prose fiction, novel. This kind of novels that are composed with various letters or epistles are called epistolary novels. These sub-genres are so remarkable in displaying the voices of the society of the time when they are written. Not only are they the means of communication, but also they are the demonstrator of the feelings and events. Additionally, the epistolary novels contribute to the stories being told throughout the work and make them actual and possible. In fact, they imitate real lives. Thus, these literary works present many unforgettable subjects for the readers. Since the letters or in other words epistles are viewed as the means that create, contribute the development of the prose fiction in American literature, present studies aims at presenting the knowledge on usage of them as literary devices. Therefore, to compose the study the issues of letter tradition in American literature, Epistolary novel and Epistolary Tradition in American Literature have been focused on. As a result, it is emphasized the letters and epistolary form is so significant means for developing the prose fiction. In this respect some prominent epistolary novels are taken into account and placed in the study. 1. Letter Tradition in American Literature A letter is a written message of somebody and it is written to another one who is viewed as absent. Its purpose is to show one’s feelings or to magnify an issue. Prose fiction that turned into the genre novel in 18th century, comprised thanks to lots of proficient writers who tested different kinds of fictional forms including writings on places visited and experiences come across and also biographies. In this evolution, letter in other words epistle is at a substantial place leading to development of prose fiction. A letter helps writers to interrogate any subject, as it is the means of one’s sensational and mental side. As Bower states (1997, 3), though literary works can impel our intellectual and sensational understandings and reassessment, to us some of these forms of writing revive reply more easily. Epistolary form is viewed in such forms. Generally, this form is connected to feminist issues. In addition, the letters allow detecting the issues of postmodernism. “The back and forth of letters, their desire for reply, their incomplete ownership of information, Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 7 - their concomitant play on ideas of absence and presence and their apparently personal and private nature, model an interactive openness” (Bower, 1997, 3). In literature, letters bring about some responses from the character of the writing, the addressee, outer reader and from the writers who place replies to their respective or another one’s letter in their writings. These writers can grant their readers new understandings about what their letter texts mean. As Louw indicates (2015, 5), “The letter has played a part in human connections and communication throughout recorded history.” Moreover, letter novel or epistolary novels can display conversations or social intercourse in such an extremely self-conscious way that the readers have the opportunity, to see both past and present connections. Therefore, the letters of these works necessitate some responses and cause the readers to interrogate the responses. As Bower states (1997, 5), “The most distinctive thing about the letter form as a literary device may be that no matter what else it does, it always attempts to elicit or offer a response.” Even though letter requires to be written reciprocally, writers write on their own. “The letter becomes a blank space for the expression of one’s thoughts and emotions to the absent other in a communicative effort to minimize the separation” (Nelson, 2016, 1). Writers of the letters tend to compose self and recipient or addressee. Additionally, they review these two issues as they create fictional world and have the strength to do so. Thus, these letter writers’ pen are able to use private aggressive and preservative expressions for depicting the character’s unsatisfying relationships in more satisfying situations. In these letters especially, women who are usually silent in society, have the opportunity to be free to write self and others again. Therefore, the letters can be so special along with diaries. In what situation the letter writers may be, that is, they may be suffering or be in restriction during the moment of the writing, nevertheless they can control their pen and express whatever they want to mean in discourse. Generally, every letter writer question similar issues such as public discourse contrary to private discourse in some extent. In this context, letters are viewed as different explanations of argumentative essays and they have some implications to the responses on gender in writing. In addition, the letters can demonstrate the insufficient sides of the society in an effective way. Letters have contribution to the development of the novel. By the way, many scholars connect the letters to the literary forms, which disregard epistolary form including playful, postmodern probabilities. Since viewed as archival documents, the letters have never been neglected. They were the main resources of history and biography that cover knowledge on people. These informative texts had been taken into consideration and turned into a fictional world in artificiality. In this fictional world, the epistolary expressions had the opportunity to show the sincerity and closeness that might be absent in face-to-face conversations. Therefore, epistolary texts helped the readers to see and emphasize with various sides of human experiences. As Louw indicates (2015, 5), “the first fictional letters were written by a man speaking as a woman and that the letter form was deemed an appropriate vehicle for representing the female voice.” As Stern states (1997, 17), “The letter form bridges the acoustic and the textual, creating dialectic of voice against vision.” Letter form of writing contributes the writers for showing themselves in their playful writing in the midst of their sadness, displaying the heroic, behaviors and expecting novel usually offers quite plan and clear subjectivity since its writer obviously writes down what he/she is thinking during writing. Ideas and emotions are not so direct and obvious in this writing genre as one assumes. On the contrary, the writer investigates intelligence among characters’ minds. The letter is the means of subjectivity of writers’ mind since it includes a story about any event in consciousness. The letter was assumed as the main means for social contact in American literature in nineteenth century. In addition, it was accepted as a representative genre in which the writers including Ralph Waldo Emerson, John de Crevecoeur, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, Herman Melville, Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman were able to handle both social and political themes Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 8 - having great importance in their own literary works. Therefore, most of the significant American writers tended to compose their works with the form of epistolary as a prime genre by the help of which they could demonstrate the debates on democracy prior to the Civil War. These writers questioned the social contact in terms of political thoughts by way of correspondence practices and analyses. The epistolary writing has come in view with Richardson’s novel. This writing style later influenced the writers of the American literature and they began to write in letter form. Not only did Richardson bequest seduction as a theme, but he also bequeath how to present the story in epistolary writing. “The vogue of epistolary fiction in England, begun by Pamela in 1740 reached its peak in 1788, the year before the appearance of The Power of Sympathy” (Brown, 1940, 52). Richardson’s fictional characters, Pamela and Clarissa were also letter writers. By the way, his epistolary novels that became famous in America deliberately included the Christian names. In fact, the epistolary writing did not come forth in America, yet this writing form affected the writers of New World. As Decker states (1998, 10), “It would be difficult and purposeless to argue that there arise distinctively “American” epistolary modes.” Actually, United States caused the writers to live away from their friends and family members and this situation was the reason of widespread experience of literary writing. Some of the writers brought different nature and experience to case of writing and getting letter. Moreover, they tried composing their works writing the contexts affected by variety and variability of different culture. Among these writers Adams, Dickinson and Emerson composed and wrote epistolary works. The epistolary writing started by Emerson who stated that he was actually an unwilling letter writer. Contrary to this fact, his epistolary works was viewed as significant achievements since they demonstrated conversation ideals that cannot be accessed in any kind of discourse of his time. As Decker states (1998, 12), “His pursuit of such ideals reflects his disaffection from the political and economic culture of antebellum New England while his later falling-off as a letter writer signals alterations in his friendships and measures his general decline as an author.” In addition, another prominent epistolary writer Dickinson displayed success as his letters and poems on writing letters had matchless theoretic comprehension on sending and getting letters. On the other hand, Adams’s letter works consisted of correspondences of his distinguished family, the samples of Augustan and annals of frustration, discontent and loss. In his letter, writing the limitations of public and private, politic and personal was confused. As Decker states (1998, 12), three of these significant epistolary writers “share a regional culture and each may be said to exhibit traits of a post. Calvinist “New England Mind.” Yet with such common ground they serve all the more to demonstrate the genre’s diverse aspect and multifaceted life.” Some regional events caused epistolary writing in America. During the nineteenth century, the people in that country were required to be epistle writers. Indeed, they struggled to pass one reach across the distances by help of travelers and to contact with the people who were away from them. As Deckers states (1998, 88), “Such communications are more or less self-reflexive, yet even the most ostensibly naïve letter writing demonstrates complex strategies of relating experience and preserving bonds.” In fact, these writers were affected from the letter writer writers of Britain, so they were dilettante. To American letter writers, their letters were not to become very long or very short. In fact, these writers tried to demonstrate the genre of epistolary by combining them with other forms of writing. To them the letters should not bore the people but they could be long discourse and their work should include effective content. As the letters were the ways of communication, they would display interpersonal relations. Actually, the novel emerged as a new form of literary genre in the 18th century in England. The epistolary novel that is one of the sub-genre of this form of writing consisted of series of letters that were composed generally by the main character. The emotions and events demonstrated by the help of this character help reader to feel intimate as the letters are written at the centre of the action. This fact supports the writer to use different points of view in epistolary novel. Some Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 9 - significant American letters are Betty Hester, James Osgood, Edward Thomson and Clare Purcell. To these writers, letters in other words epistles are sent to a person or people. This form of writing contributes to the story for making it more real and probable. The reason of this issue is that it imitates real life. Epistolary works have provided many unforgettable issues in recent literary works. Contrary to the modern letter, the epistles generally demonstrate the writer at the beginning of the novel and then it places the recipient. The composer of it is put forth at the end of the epistle. Perhaps, the carrier is also depicted. Indeed, the epistolary novel consists of lots of documents. The History of Emily Montague (1769) was the first epistolary novel written by Frances Brooke. 2. Epistolary Novel The word “epistle” is the basis of the word epistolary. An epistolary novel is viewed as a literary work that includes ranges of epistles or letters or documents written by one or more characters. Indeed, it comprises the epistles being exchanged among the characters. “Epistolary novels replicate the authenticity of actual letters and re-create a supposedly intimate private realm for the reader to observe other lives” (Nelson, 2016, 1). This novel enables readers to enter into the life of the character by the help of correspondence. In contemporary literature, there is decrease in writing of this genre. Actually, epistolary writing was so famous in the eighteenth century, fell into disuse in the later century and became rare in twentieth century. In 18th century, use of this novel increased and it provided the readers to understand and share the thoughts, feelings and dilemmas of the ordinary people. Therefore, social matters took attention of the readers. As Cook states (1996, 12), “The eighteenth-century epistolary novel played an important part in the reconfiguration and redefinition of concepts of private and public, for it represents the paradoxical intersection of these apparently opposed orders.” In addition, the characters of the epistolary novel were regarded as self-governing. Most of the American writers considered this form of writing as a perfect genre by the help of which they could demonstrate the atmosphere before Civil War in American democracy. In fact, through these novels including epistles, writers enabled to reveal the political and social relations in new culture. Moreover, as Lukic states (2018, 2), “In its eighteenth- century heyday, the epistolary novel tended to include multiple first-person narrators, which granted the editor the advantage of having belated access to the other letter writers’ perspective.” As El-Hindi states (2016, 158), “The epistolary novel or novel in letters was virtually unknown as a literary genre before Samuel Richardson’s Pamela (1740) and Clarissa (1747-8), which came later, but is considered the greatest and most extended novel in the epistolary form.” The mission and cultural sense of epistolary novels changed in early American fiction works. Even though they were so famous in late 18th and early 19th centuries, the works of American writers varied from the works written in Britain. American writers make use of the uncertainties peculiar to the form of epistolary and utilize the epistles to confuse and upset the stability of the narrative of national situation depicting documents on politics and famous speech forms. Therefore, epistles or letters were seen as ways of showing political, cultural and of course social revolt. Actually, those epistles were handwritten. By the way, “When the novel of letters first appeared, the letter was filling a psychological function that the plain prose narrative had not yet developed any adequate techniques for” (Jorgensen, 2011, 20). The epistolary novels emerging in American literature in eighteenth century includes works such as The Power of Sympathy and The Coquette. Both of these works displayed the epistolary connections portraying social issues. Contrary to print, the letter being handwritten realized to concrete its writer’s moral side. In addition, founders of America use epistolary form and in early nineteenth century this writing style used in order to strengthen America’s power and split from European countries. By the way, “The eighteenth century epistolary novel can be considered for the most part, the female’s novel since it focuses mainly on the emotional aspects of the female Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 10 - protagonist as well as on the cross-gender relationships which were then considered taboo” (El- Hindi, 2016, 158). In modern period, epistolary novel is absolutely a possible literary form. Even though this form is composed from a series of epistles or letters that are regarded as different materials, it has unity and consistency as a whole. “The epistolary structure does not inherently involve a close proximity between narration and events, but the form is certainly conductive to the creation of immediacy” (Sandefur, 2003, 83). Additionally, involvement of epistolary novel with modern novel is mentioned today since women try this form since they tend to use it for expressing and reminding their lives. Most of the epistolary works focus writing letters since women regard them as a way to reflect them in their writings and these who are correspondents. Thus, this form is thought to be a kind of mirror. Epistolary novel is sentimental and obviously subjective. It displays inland and consciousness to the certain likeable listener. Though epistolary writing resembles stream of consciousness writing, the reader of it knows that in its borders another reader exists. Therefore, this issue differ this form from stream-of-consciousness writing. Especially women use the epistles to examine themselves as they utilize their consciousness in this writing in which they are so independent and free to express what they cannot tell when the addressee is present. Traditionally, epistolary letters are the writings that are never sent. Therefore, the writers begin to find themselves in the analysis of themselves. In addition, as Nelson states (2016, 1), “The confidentiality of letters engages the reader in a vicarious and voyeuristic identification with the inner life of another person.” Most of these novels have dealt with the issues such as love or seduction. The first samples of this form include letters on love and they do not have any response. Later, the exchange of letter is also seen and this kind often has seduction story. On the contrary, in modern novels by women, there are another issues rather than love. In most of them women writers search for their own identity. By the way, as Ngom indicates (2018, 1) “as a healing process, letter-writing is an exercise in trust that traverses the distances between the addresser and the addressee.” 3. Epistolary Tradition in American Literature One of the prominent writers of American literature, Charles Dickens’s novel A Tale of Two Cities (1859) includes correspondence to show the events flow. Even though this work is not regarded as epistolary novel, its letters help providing the development of narrative in the novel. However, The Coquette (1797) that is written by Hannah Foster is an epistolary novel. This novel depends on a real event and portrays a woman who is seduced, left and delivers a child at a public house. The writer tells the story from the point of view of this woman character. This work regarded as the first novel that is written by a native-born American woman. It becomes the most famous work in England in 19th century. Alice Walker’s novel The Color Purple is another epistolary American novel. It consists of a sequence of letters. “The female epistolary bod is made powerful simply because of the communication form: women are allowed to “speak freely when writing” (Ramsey, 2016, 29). The writer’s use of letters makes it more real. In fact, the reader thinks that the characters, who write letter to each other in this novel, are real in life. Thus, this feature helps the readers to feel intimate to those characters. As Sandefur states (2003, 86), “The epistolary structure, with its reliance on both absence and presence, suits well Walker’s portrayal of female self-actualization, a process that involves finding and asserting an independent voice while maintaining connections.” Walker’s work presents the voice of a poor Afro-American woman and consciousness of an uneducated character. As Jorgensen indicates (2011, 7), “The Color Purple is a novel in which the language of the letters look so much like spoken language that the reader is easily duped into believing that she is hearing the voice of the narrator rather than reading her writing.” Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 11 - Another letter writer is a French-American writer Michel Guilloume Jean de Crevecoeur. His main concern in his letters was lives in colonies and American society emergence. He publishes the work Letters from an American Farmer in 1782. He is regarded as the first writer who show the American lives, American Dream and American society to the European people. Therefore, this work is viewed as the means that helps the Europeans to get information on New World. In addition, this work deals with American openness and lifestyle and religious, cultural and ethnic variety that bring the Americans together. Crevecoeur depicts an ideal version of an independent society in America. He also describes slavery in throughout the work. The writer publish second version of this work and rewritten in French. In 1980, Henry Adams also published John Hay’s letters and diary. Likewise, the poet Emily Dickinson published some letters along with her poems both of which help the readers to feel intimate. As Rosevere indicates (2000, 70), “in…letters Dickinson has transformed the possibilities of form and content, creating a fiction which appears startlingly like reality.” In addition, another American poet, Walt Whitman is considered as a letter writer. One of the American letter writer is Hazel Elizabeth Betty Hester living during the twentieth century. Being a correspondent, she wrote many short stories philosophical treatises, diaries and poems but they weren’t published. She is known for long term correspondence with Flannery O’Connor who is a fiction writer. Some of the letters who is a fiction writer. Some of these letters are published in Sally Fitzgerald’s The Habit of Being in 1979. Hester did not permit the writer to show her presence in this work. Another American writer who is seen as letter writer is William Cullen Bryant. His work is called Letters of a Traveller, which deals with different times and different countries. Some of the other American letter works are On the Edge of the War Zone by Mildred Aldrich, A senses of Letters in Defense of Divine Revelation in Reply to Rev by Hosea Ballou, Letters of Franklin Lane by Franklin Lane, Adventures and Letters by Richard Harding Davis, Lincoln Letters by Abraham Lincoln, Recollection and Letters of General Robert E. by General Robert E. Lee, Army Letters from an Officer’s Wife by Frances Roe, Letters of Samuel F. B. Morse by Samuel Morse, Complete Letters of Mark Twain by Mark Twain, Letters to His Children by Theodore Roosevelt. Conclusion A letter is the prose message of writer’s mind. The literary genre of fiction novel evolved in early eighteenth century. Epistle or letter is a significant writing in the development of prose fiction. Thus, it helped the evolution of the genre, novel. The letters having special properties allow the writers examining postmodern issues. Writers of them try to constitute and review self and addressee. In addition, the letter writers have the opportunity to control the discourse in the works. Although correspondence is viewed as resource for biography and history, it is indeed a remarkable genre by the help of which early writers of America made use for politics and social relations in new culture and nation. The most significant type of letter writing is epistolary form emerging with the British writer, Samuel Richardson. Then this writing type affected some of writers in America. In this form sometimes the addresser and addressee is absent. The subjectivity lie within this writing. Being one of the earliest types of the novel letter or epistolary form permits the readers entering into the world of the characters. It displays different points of views. Although epistle or letter was popular in the eighteenth century, it was not present in nineteenth century but came in sight in twentieth century. Since they dealt with ordinary people’s lives, the letters were famous in eighteenth century. The cultural side and function of epistolary writing changed in early American fiction. During those years, especially women and their lives were aimed to be demonstrated. At first the issue of love was handled in these works that did not include replies, then an exchange of letters between lovers were seen. Uluslararası Sosyal Araştırmalar Dergisi / The Journal of International Social Research Cilt: 13 Sayı: 74 Year: 2020 & Volume: 13 Issue: 74 Year: 2020 - 12 - Epistolary form that is a significant means especially during the nineteenth century in America, took part in prose fiction that includes novel. Consisting of different and many letters or epistles, this novel genre is called epistolary novel. This sub-genre is so substantial in demonstrating the communication of the society of its time when the writer composes it. Thus, it places both emotions of the characters events occur in the plot. To conclude, the epistolary novels contribute to the stories of the literary works and display them as real and probable. Actually, they reflect reality. Thus, these works presenting some unforgettable issues for the readers are regarded as significant means for contribution to the prose fiction in American literature. REFERENCES Bower, Anne (1997). Epistolary Responses: The Letter in 20th-Century American Fiction and Criticism. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Brown, Herbert Ross (1940). The Sentimental Novel in America, 1789-1860. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Cook, Elizabeth Heckendorn (1996). Epistolary Bodies- Gender and Genre in the Eighteenth Century Republic of Letters. California: Stanford University Press. Decker, William Merrill (1998). Letter Writing in America before Telecommunications. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press. El-Hindi, Dina Muhammed (2016). An Epistolary Novel Revisited: Alice Walker’s Womanist Parody of Richardson’s Clarissa. International Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 6 (4), p. 294-300. Louw, Bronwen Mairi (2015). Trauma, Healing, Mourning and Narrative Voice in the Epistolary Mode. Master Thesis, Stellenbosch University, South Africa. Lukic, Anita (2018). Performing Editional Authority Ingo Schulze’s Epistolary Novel Neue Leben. Studies in 20th & 21st Century Literature, 42 (2), p. 1-17. https://doi.org/10.4148/2334-4415.1878. Jorgensen, Maria Berg (2011). Woman, Letters and the Empire The Role of the Epistolary Narrative in Alice Walker’s The Color Purple. Master Thesis, Universitet: Tomso, Norway. Nelson, Angelica Alicia (2016). The Crafting of the Self Private Letters and the Epistolary Novel: El hilo que une, Un verano en Bornos, Ifıgenia, Querido Diego, teabraza Quiela and Cartas apocrifas. Doctoral Dissertation, Florida International University, USA. Doi: 10.25148/etd.FIDC001250 Ngom, Ousmane (2018). Conjuring Trauma with (Self) Derision: The African and African-American Epistolary. European Scientific Journal, 14 (2), p. 1-23. Doi: 10.19044/esj.2018.v14n2p1 Ramsey, Allison Melissa (2016). Read Me: The Emergence of Female Voice in American Epistolary Fiction. Honor Thesis, University of Mississippi, USA. Rosevere, Nicole Caroline (2000). Letters Never Sent: Emily Dickinson’s “Daisy” Letters as Epistolary Fiction. Master Thesis, McMaster University, Canada. Sandefur, Amy Faulds (2003). Narrative Immediacy and First-Person Voice in Contemporary American Novels. Doctoral Dissertation, Louisiana State University, USA. Stern, Julia A. (1997). The Plight of Feeling: Sympathy and Dissent in the Early American Novel. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. "Epistle." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 19 Nov 2007, 11:00 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 15 Jan 2008. "Epistolary novel." Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 13 Jan 2008, 14:23 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 15 Jan 2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Epistolary_novel&oldid=184042427>. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. 18 Jan 2008, 15:14 UTC. Wikimedia Foundation, Inc. 22 Jan2008 <http://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=J._Hector_St._John_de_Crevecoeur&oldid=185213034>. <http://www.earlywomenmasters.net/essays/authors/higginson/twh_dickinson.html>. 22.01.2008 <http://www.amazon.com/Correspondence-American-Literature-1770-1865-Cambridge/dp/0521842557>. 22.01.2008. 
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work_dmx6h3ycpnh7ddwtrj5oe2parq	----	Book reviews seem to lean more on popularly accepted views than on hard proof Recent work has shown that air pollutants can increase the response of the airways to allergens; the key question is to what extent does this occur at ambient levels of pollution. This is harder to answer but if not mentioned the reader is left with the impression that the effect is of known importance. The chapters dealing with solutions are helpful. Much useful information has been collected and tabulated. This will be an important source for students, especially as the "grey literature" in this area can be diffi- cult to trace. Costs and benefits are considered but not in great depth. For comparatively wealthy countries, air pollution is a soluble problem, for poor countries this may not be the case for some years yet. Given that industrial countries are inevitably in competition with one another it is not easy to see that rich countries will wish to help the less fortunate to enjoy a clean industrial revolution. Sadly, the old administrative adage "costs lie where they fall" seems to apply on a global scale. In conclusion, this is a useful and inex- pensive book which deals with an important problem. The more advanced reader will wish to follow up some of the author's points in the original literature-if he does so then he will find the picture is less clear cut than presented in Smog Alert. R L MAYNARD Environmental Hazards and Human Health by RICHARD B PHILP. (Pp 306; price ,C55.) 1995. Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press. ISBN 1-56670-133-3. As the author of this title proclaims, it is increasingly necessary for students of environmental sciences to know something of toxicology, and for students of toxicology to know something of the environment; the intention of Environmental Hazards and Human Health is to bridge that gap. The chapter titles range from water pollution through radiation hazards to risk analysis and the Gaia concept. This book is both lively and readable. Its intended aims are ambitious and its content comprehensive, but it somehow falls short of fully meeting its objectives. This may be due to the rather idiosyncratic style and the patchyness of the text. Although it frequently makes interesting reading, the material presented is often sketchy and selective. It also lacks formal referencing. Thus the material sometimes has an anecdotal feel, although balancing this is the author's personal touch and the inclusion of some unusual and useful snippets of material. It seems to be a prerequisite nowadays to preface any text or chapter on toxicology or pharmacology with a quote from Paracelsus. This one is no exception, although the quote used is more accurate than usual. It seems ironic that Paracelsus is so often used in this context as the point he was making referred in fact to the homeopathic usage of known poisons. As a general comment, I was not sure that the introductory quotes in this book contributed significantly. Not surprisingly, perhaps, in a book of this kind covering a very broad range of top- ics, some sections are lengthy and detailed whereas others seem short and superficial. Moreover, the material sometimes seems rather too simplistic and does not always adequately support the review questions given at the end of each chapter. Indeed, I was not convinced about the appropriate- ness of these questions or of the case studies provided. Also, it has to be said that the illustrations are not of the highest quality; they are all in black and white and often rather crude in comparison with the superb graphics increasingly commonplace in books of this ilk. In terms of completeness and top- icality of its contents, I was surprised not to see PM,0 mentioned by name. Nor was there a reference as such to environmental oestro- gens and the increasing evidence regarding the endocrine disrupting properties of chem- icals, which is currently a very topical issue in terms of both scientific and public inter- est. My overriding impression of this book was of a brave, if not wholly successful, attempt to cover all the key issues in this vast subject area. Although perhaps trying to achieve too much, the author nevertheless has produced a reader friendly overview for students needing basic information on a wide range of topics in the environment and health field, and I am sure the book will receive a wide readership. At £55 this hard- back book is reasonable value for money. PAUL HARRISON Traumatic Stress in Critical Occupations, Recognition, Con- sequences, and Treatment. By DOUGLAS PATON, JOHN M VIOLANT. (Pp 245.) 1996. Springfield, Il: Charles C Thomas. ISBN 0- 398-065772. The poet Ralph Waldo Emerson described the simple reality of the experiences of human beings in traumatic situations when he mused "we boil at different degrees". This book attempts to explore not only each person's reaction to traumatic stressful situa- tions, but also the "complex interactions between the person, the traumatic event, and the social and organizational back- ground against which performance takes place". The emphasis here is on understand- ing the stress and trauma phenomena and developing an "effective trauma manage- ment system". This duality of objectives, highlighting the current theory in the field and the practical solutions is laudable. Also, by encompassing the phrase "critical occu- pations", the authors have widened the con- ventional view of traumatic stress being associated with the emergency services only, extending the construct to the "helping pro- fessionals" as well. The book is divided into eight chapters, the first two of which are concerned with a broad overview of the field and by research considerations on methodology and assess- ment strategies. The next four chapters explore specific critical occupations such as emergency medical service workers, the police, and disaster relief agencies. Most of these cover not only the research undertaken but also education, prevention, and support approaches. The last two chapters, from my point of view, are the most interesting, as they explore the training and support for emergency responders and future issues in the area of practice and research. The issues of training and preparation, support and demands related to the event, and recovery and the social and organizational influences are assessed in depth. The assessment of occupational trauma is examined in the final chapter, with an emphasis on the need to carry out research which is longitudinal in nature and to explore a range of preventive strategies rarely discussed-for example, screening. This volume really does make a contribu- tion, both in terms of future research and strategies that organisations might adopt in coping with traumatic stress at work. It is up to date and clarifies many of the method- ological and occupational issues currently confronting the field of traumatic stress in an organizational context. It is not a cure all or a simple "do it yourself' guide to corpo- rate post-traumatic stress disorder, but a step in the right direction of an increasing problem among critical occupational groups. What is important for the health of employ- ees in any work environment, as this book reinforces time and time again, is to provide a creative and supportive organizational cul- ture. This can be done if we follow the sim- ple dictat of Kornhauser, over 30 years ago, in his book The mental health of the industrial worker. "Mental health is not so much a freedom from specific frustrations as it is an overall balanced relationship to the world, which permits a person to maintain a realis- tic, positive belief in himself and his pur- poseful activities. Insofar as his entire job and life situation facilitate and support such feelings of adequacy, inner security, and meaningfulness of his existence, it can be presumed that his mental health will tend to be good. What is important in a negative way is not any single characteristic of his sit- uation but everything that deprives the per- son of purpose and zest, that leaves him with negative feelings about himself, with anxi- eties, tensions, a sense of lostness, empti- ness, and futility." CARY L COOPER 144 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://o e m .b m j.co m / O ccu p E n viro n M e d : first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /o e m .5 4 .2 .1 4 4 -a o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 9 7 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://oem.bmj.com/ 
work_dqt5wndvobcj5gp5rmb6edppgy	----	10.11648.j.ijla.20130101.11 International Journal of Literature and Arts 2013; 1(1): 1-6 Published online June 10, 2013 (http://www.sciencepublishinggroup.com/j/ijla) doi: 10.11648/j.ijla.20130101.11 Emerson’s passion for Indian thought Sardar M. Anwaruddin Department of English, North South University, Bangladesh Email address: sanwaruddin@luc.edu To cite this article: Sardar M. Anwaruddin. Emerson’s Passion for Indian Thought. International Journal of Literature and Arts. Vol. 1, No. 1, 2013, pp. 1-6. doi: 10.11648/j.ijla.20130101.11 Abstract: The first group of American thinkers who seriously examined non-Western spiritual traditions such as Hinduism and Buddhism was the Transcendentalists. The prominent members of this group included Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Margaret Fuller, Bronson Alcott, and Elizabeth Peabody. In general, the Transcendentalists argued for a non-dogmatic and more universalistic perspective of life and the world. As the intellectual guru of this group, Emerson “represent[ed] the best in the spiritual explorer” (Moore 74). Unlike most of his predecessors and contemporaries, he was sensitive to and passionate about non-Western spiritual traditions and philosophies. Today, the sources of Emerson’s knowledge and inspiration are of particular interest to the critics and researchers of comparative literature. In this article, I explore Emerson’s passion for Indian thought with specific reference to Brahma, the Bhagavad Gita, and the laws of karma. Keywords: Emerson, Indian thought, Brahma, Gita, Karma 1. Introduction Ralph Waldo Emerson was America’s poet-prophet. He is remembered primarily for his endeavor to elevate the spiritual landscape of the American psyche. Emerson was born in 1803 in Boston, USA. He lost his father when he was only eight and was raised by his mother. Emerson lived his whole life in Massachusetts and became the leading member of a group known as Transcendentalists. His beliefs and ideas may be summarized by one of his own sentences: “Can anyone doubt that if the noblest saint among the Buddhists, and noblest Mahometan, the highest Stoic of Athens, the purest and wisest Christian, M[a]nu in India, Confucius in China, Spinoza in Holland, could somewhere meet and converse together, they would find themselves of one religion?” (Buell xx). Before proceeding to discuss how Indian thought influenced Emerson’s ideas and works, it is important that I briefly focus on the movement known as Transcendentalism. 2. What is Transcendentalism Transcendentalism, or American Transcendentalism, was a multi-faceted movement. It introduced freethinking in religion, intuitive idealism in philosophy, individualism in literature, new spirit in social reforms, and new optimism in peoples’ mind. This New England movement flourished in a period between 1830 and 1860. One of the beginning marks of this movement was the Transcendental Club meeting held at George Ripley’s home in Boston in the fall of 1836. As an intellectual movement, Transcendentalism was influenced by Romanticism and post-Kantian idealism, and its major exponents were Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Margaret Fuller, and Bronson Alcott. Initially, it started its journey as a religious movement, but shortly it addressed many other issues of the contemporary time. Transcendentalism’s influence is clearly visible in many American movements—be it religious, literary, political, or philosophical. With regard to religion, it introduced freethinking and reasoning in understanding and practicing religion. In fact, it was the first revolt against historical Christianity as it rejected religious forms, creeds, rituals, and the literal explanations of scriptures. Instead, it aspired to reach for an authentic religious experience. Establishing an original relationship with God and the universe was among the main objectives of the movement. Rejecting religious formalities, Emerson in his “Divinity School Address” declared that “Whenever the pulpit is usurped by a formalist, then is the worshipper defrauded and disconsolate. We shrink as soon as the prayers begin, which do not uplift, but smite and offend us….It seemed strange that the people should come to church” (138-39). Thus, Transcendentalism advocated religious experience based on intuition and an unmediated relationship with the universe 2 Sardar M. Anwaruddin: Emerson’s Passion for Indian Thought and its Creator. To the study of philosophy, Transcendentalism added the principles of idealism. In Emerson’s opinion, Transcendentalism is what is left in a person’s mind after he or she empties everything that comes from traditions. Along this line of understanding, Orestes Brownson defines Transcendentalism as “the recognition in man of the capacity of knowing truth intuitively,” and George A. Ripley defines it as “the supremacy of mind over matter” (Boller 34-35). Furthermore, Emerson, in “The Transcendentalist,” provides us with the most succinct definition of Transcendentalism as an idealistic philosophy: “What is popularly called Transcendentalism among us, is Idealism.” In addition to being an emblem of intuitive religious experience and an idealistic philosophy, Transcendentalism may be described as a doctrine of reform. In the April issue of The Dial in 1841, Emerson wrote, “In the history of the world the doctrine of Reform had never such scope as at the present hour.” Almost all members of the Transcendentalist group responded to various social reforms, e.g., women’s rights, temperance, abolitionism, children’s aid, prison reform, and educational reform. With regard to social reform, Emerson always believed in two parties in society: “the party of the Past and the party of the Future: the Establishment and the Movement” (Boller 100). In addition to ushering in various social reforms, Transcendentalism introduced a romantic and individualistic movement to the field of literary studies. Defying the traditional ways of looking at humans as social subjects, it re-conceptualized individuals as autonomous agents and redefined reality through what is called “an innocent eye.” In short, Transcendentalism as a literary movement influenced modern American literature, e.g., the works of the Beat Generation. From another perspective, Transcendentalism was a movement of cosmic optimism; all members of this group were profoundly optimistic. In The Dial, Thoreau wrote that “Surely joy is the condition of life.” He further illustrated his optimism through the following words: “I believe something, and there is nothing else but that. I know that I am….I know that the enterprise is worthy. I know that things work well. I have heard no bad news.” Thoreau’s friend Alcott seems to be even more “affirmative about life.” Thoreau said, “His [Alcott’s] attitude is one of greater faith and expectation than that of any man I know.” Like other members of the movement, Margaret Fuller shares the Transcendentalist group’s optimism. Echoing Alcott, she says, “Evil is abstraction; Good is accomplishment.” Although at times she is faced with disappointment and frustration, she never gives up her faith in “the divine soul of this visible creation, which cannot err or will not sleep, which cannot permit evil to be permanent or its aim of beauty to be eventually frustrated in the smallest particular” (Boller 143). Summing up the transcendentalists’ optimistic beliefs and attitudes, Parker writes that “there was more gladness than sadness in the world and that evil was a transient phenomenon in God’s creation.” In short, Transcendentalism was the first successful American movement that influenced America’s religion, philosophy, literature, and attitude toward life. 3. Emerson and Indian Thought Transcendentalism was the first American intellectual movement that showed true interests in Eastern philosophy. Emerson started to read about Indian philosophy and mythology in The Edinburgh Review between 1820 and 1825. His interest in Indian thought grew when he was a young Harvard graduate, and it continued until the end of his writing career. We see its evidence in many of his essays, poems, letters, and journal entries. For example, the concept of Brahma plays a central role in his works and ideas. He is also very much interested in the Bhagavad Gita. Some of his essays such as “Self-Reliance” deal with a theme that is very much similar to the concept of karma. Through a discussion of Brahma, the Bhagavad Gita, and the laws of karma, I explore how Emerson was deeply influenced by the Indian philosophical and religious thought. 3.1. The Concept of Brahma The Indian concept of Brahma had great influence on Emerson. Brahma is the god of creation, and one of the Hindu trinity—others being Visnu, the preserver and savior of the world, and Siva, the destroyer or dissolver of the world. Emerson was so influenced by the concept of Brahma that he named one of his short poems “Brahma:” If the red slayer think he slays, Or if the slain think he is slain, They know not well the subtle ways I keep, and pass, and turn again. Far or forgot to me is near; Shadow and sunlight are the same; The vanished gods to me appear; And one to me are shame and fame. They reckon ill who leave me out; When me they fly, I am the wings; I am the doubter and the doubt, And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. The strong gods pine for my abode, And pine in vain the sacred Seven; But thou, meek lover of the good! Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. (665) In this poem, Emerson describes the mystery of Brahma. It is almost impossible for humans to understand the “subtle ways” of Brahma because his character is beyond human comprehension. However, at the end of the poem, we see the light of hope because humans can find him although “strong gods” look for him “in vain.” This is the human supremacy, and as Brahma assures, anybody who is the “meek lover of the good” can find him. I shall now briefly discuss the concept of Brahma in International Journal of Literature and Arts 2013; 1(1): 1-6 3 order to shed light on its influence on Emerson. Three concepts crucial to understanding Brahman are: para and apara Brahma, Atman, and maya. There are two forms of Brahm: para and apara Brahman, one is the formed and the other formless. In the Upanisads, the formed is described as unreal and the formless as real. The Brhadaranyaka Upanisad states that “Truly, there are two aspects of Brahman, the formed and the formless, the mortal and the immortal, the unmoving and moving, the existent and that which is beyond existence” (qtd. in Herman 107). The immortal Brahma enters into the mortal Brahma. When this happens, a human—a mortal Brahma—becomes united with the immortal. In this way, humans can be united with the “formless” Brahma, which can be difficult even for the strong gods. This idea resonates with Emerson’s belief that man can achieve the majesty of God. In the “Divinity School Address” he says: The intuition of the moral sentiment is an insight of the perfection of the laws of the soul. These laws execute themselves. They are out of time, out of space, and not subject to circumstance. Thus, in the soul of man there is a justice whose retributions are instant and entire. He who does a good deed, is instantly ennobled himself….If a man is at heart just, then in so far is he God; the safety of God, the immortality of God, the majesty of God do enter into that man with justice. (131) Thus, Emerson believes that humans can achieve the immortality of God by good deed and justice. This is also a way of union between the formed and formless Brahma. Another metaphysical concept of Brahma is Atman, which is synonymous with the Supreme Self or Spirit. It is similar to the Christian notion of Light, Christ, or Spirit, as seen in St. Paul’s words, Galatians 2:20, “[I]t is not I who live but Christ that liveth in me” (qtd. in Herman 110). Atman is the impersonal God, godlikeness, or the power of creation in the universe, which is found in all beings. The Upanisads mentions that “It is by seeing, hearing, reflecting, and concentrating on one’s essential self (atman) that the whole world is known,” and that “The atman is below, above, to the west, east, south, and north; the atman is, indeed, the whole world” (qtd. in Hamilton 30). We see this conception of atman in Emerson’s “Divinity School Address,” in which he says that: Jesus Christ belonged to the true race of prophets. He saw with open eye the mystery of the soul….He saw that God incarnates himself in man, and evermore goes forth anew to take possession of his world. He said, in this jubilee of sublime emotion, “I am divine. Through me, God acts; through me, speaks. Would you see God, see me; or, see thee, when thou also thinkest as I now think.” (134) Defying the historical Christianity, Emerson maintains that like Jesus Christ any individual can attain this “sublime” divinity because all human beings share the same Supreme Self. In addition, Emerson constructs his own God and names Him the Over-Soul. He believes that the nature of the relationship between the Over-Soul and the individual is one-to-one. There is no place for any mediators, such as churches or priests, in this sacred and organic relationship. He describes the Over-Soul as the Eternal One. It is a common soul in which “every man’s particular being is contained.” It is synonymous with the reality, the divine, the universal heart, the Unity, the supreme critic, the universal presence, and the Holy Spirit. In “The Over-Soul,” Emerson contemplates that “the Maker of all things and all persons stands behind us and casts his dread omniscience through us over things” (217). In this essay, he emphasizes the notion of unity, and hopes that the union of the individual soul with the Over-Soul will benefit humans more than anything else. The idea of Maya is probably most important for understanding the concept of Brahma and its influence on Emerson. In its simplest form, Maya means a magical power in which the Creator reveals Himself and the mystery of His creation. A. L. Herman describes Maya as: The means by which nirguna, or higher, Brahman is enabled to manifest Itself as saguna, or lower, Brahman, is called maya […] The Upanisads answer this all-important cosmological question about origins by indicating simply that the power or maya of God made all this. While all creation comes forth from the Unmanifest and Imperishable, it is the Great Lord or Isvara who does the actual creating, and does it with this maya. (108) Maya has a double meaning because it is simultaneously a product of power of creativity and the power itself. The Svetasvatara Upanisad says, “Know that nature (prakrti) is maya and that the user of maya is great Isvara. And the whole world is filled with beings that are part of him” (qtd. in Herman 109). The concept of Maya is also related to that of atman, where all beings of the world are seen as parts of the Supreme Being. This concept of Maya always fascinated Emerson. He named one of his short poems “Maia:” Illusion works impenetrable, Weaving webs innumerable, Her gay pictures never fail, Crowds each on other, veil on veil, Charmer who will be believed By Man who thirsts to be deceived. (Emerson 432) In this poem, Emerson dwells on the power of Maya and how it deceives us. In addition to this poem, he talks about Maya several times in his journals. For example, he responds to the idea of Maya in the following entry: The illusion that strikes me [most] as the masterpiece of Maya, is, the timidity with which we assert our moral sentiment. We are made of it, the world is built by it, Things endure as they share it, all beauty, all health, all intelligence exist by it; yet ’tis the last thing we dare utter, we shrink to speak it, or to range ourselves on its side” (Journals XV 243). He fully agrees with the concept of Maya and believes that the whole world is made of it. He quotes from the Veda, a sacred text of the Aryans, that “the world is born of Maya” (Journals XVI 33). However, the concepts of Maya are not always clear-cut. Maya, as it literally means magic, has puzzled many 4 Sardar M. Anwaruddin: Emerson’s Passion for Indian Thought scholars. As seen in the poem “Brahma,” Brahma is “the doubter and the doubt.” For this, it may seem to be a fruitless endeavor to understand the divine Maya. Likewise, Emerson is sometimes perplexed by the power of Maya. Referring to Indian mythology, he writes, “Brahma said, No, it is not thy true form, that which man sees with his organs made to seize different objects, for thou who art the asylum of knowledge. Of substance, & of quality, thou art distinct from that product of Maya which has no real existence” (Journals XVI 31). It is a dream-like effort to comprehend and embody the mystery of Maya because it has no real existence. For example, we hear Dhruva saying, “Enveloped by the divine Maya, I see distinctions, like a man who dreams. &, in presence of another being, who has meantime no real existence, I suffer from in thinking that this being, who is my brother, is my enemy” (Emerson, Journals XVI 32). The way Maya works seems to be contradictory at times because we have to unite ourselves with Maya, and at the same time, we have to remain distinct from it. As Emerson mentions, “Adore, in order to escape from existence, him who can annihilate it, & whose feet are adorable; he who unites himself, whilst remains distinct from it, to Maya, which is his energy endowed with qualities” (Journals XVI 32). Hence, Emerson is simultaneously inspired and perplexed by the concept of Maya. In addition to Emerson’s journals, we see the presence of Maya in many of his essays. For example, in “Illusions,” he claims that we dwell in a kingdom of illusions. With an analogy of sick men in hospital, Emerson describes the condition of human life: “We change only from bed to bed, from one folly to another; it cannot signify much what becomes of such castaways, wailing, stupid, comatose creatures, lifted from bed to bed, from the nothing of life to the nothing of death” (384). In his essay “Experience,” Emerson writes that we cannot be sure about what we see and perceive of. We see things through filter glass—optical illusions—and we cannot know if what we see is real. If our life is a dream, there is no end to this dream. Another problem of our experience is our subjectiveness, as we are always trapped in it. The meaning and nature of everything depend on the eyes that see it. Realizing the endlessness of illusion, Emerson concludes that “Nature does not like to be observed, and likes that we should be her fools and playmates” (269). He understands how difficult it is to penetrate this illusion as Lord Krishna in the Upanisads says, “This divine maya of Mine, made of the gunas, is difficult to penetrate. But those who take refuge in Me alone, they penetrate this illusion” (qtd. in Herman 191). This perplexity pushes Emerson toward the following conclusion: Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and as we pass through them they prove to be many- colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus. From the mountain you see the mountain. We animate what we can, and we see only what we animate. (269) Thus, Emerson’s writings illustrate that he was heavily influenced by the concept of Maya. 3.2. The Bhagavad Gita Emerson was particularly struck by the teachings of Bhagavad Gita, “the first of books,” as he once called it (Buell 178). He wrote about the Gita that “In England the Understanding rules & materialistic truth, the becoming, the fit, the discreet, the brave, the advantageous But they could not produce such a book as the Bhagavat Geeta” (Journals X, 503). The Gita is an ancient Sanskrit text comprising of verses embellished with many literary devices such as allegory, metaphor, and allusion. It is a record of conversations between Bhagavan or God, in the form of Krishna, and Arjuna, a human. Arjuna is a ksatriya warrior of the Pandava family and Krishna is his cousin and the driver of his chariot. In the battle field, Arjuna sees many of his relatives in the opposing force and, being overcome by pity, he refuges to fight. Krishna then tries to make him realize the importance of fighting. He also reminds him of his obligation to follow his dharma or duty and to ignore his personal feelings. Krishna sends this message to the mankind through Arjuna, as does Christ through his twelve disciples. Krishna says: “Though unborn, for the Atman [soul] is eternal, though Lord of all beings, yet using my own nature, I come into existence using my own maya.” Krishna sends himself through human beings to save people from adharma, ruin of morality and justice. He says, “For whenever there is a decaying of dharma, and a rising up of adharma, then I send Myself forth” (Herman 146). This idea resonates with Emerson’s emphasis on intuition and conscience. In the essay “Over-Soul,” he writes that we, as individual souls, are part the Greater or Over-Soul. We do not have to go to church to be united with the Over-Soul because our intuition can illuminate our spiritual world like the flashes of light. Here, Emerson seems to be influenced by the teachings of the Upanisad and the Gita that nirguna [higher] Brahman, or what Emerson calls the Over-Soul, is manifested through human beings. In a letter to William Emerson, written on May 24, 1831, Emerson wrote, “I have been reading 7 or 8 lectures of Cousin—in the first of three vols. of his philosophy. A master of history, an epic he makes of man & of the world—& excels all men in giving effect, yea, éclat to a metaphysical theory. Have you not read it? tis good reading—well worth the time—clients or no clients.” (Letters I, 322). Ralph L. Rusk, the editor of Letters, comments that “this reading of Victor Cousin’s first volume, Cours de philosophie, 1828, was particularly significant because it was this book which gave Emerson his first taste for the Bhagavadgita” (Letters I, 322). Thus, Emerson’s letters along with his essays and journals indicate that the Bhagavad Gita was a great source of knowledge and inspiration for him. International Journal of Literature and Arts 2013; 1(1): 1-6 5 3.3. The Laws of Karma Another Indian philosophical concept that had tremendous influence on Emerson is karma. In Sanskrit, karma means action or work. In the Upanisadic and Vedic traditions, karma signifies “the results or consequences of action” and, more distinctively, “the unwanted, to-be- avoided-at-all-costs results or fruits of action.” The results of disobedience bring future suffering and pain. The Vedas, the Upanisads, and the Bhagabad Gita all mention that disobeyers must face grave consequences. The law of karma, in the Brhadaranyaka Upanisad IV.4.6, mentions that “This is what happens to the man who desires. To whatever his mind is attached, the self becomes that in the next life. Achieving that end, it returns again to this world” (qtd. in Herman 131). Thus, the law of karma is a device to link up actions and their consequences of this life and of the next. The Svetasvatara Upanisad states two important doctrines about karma: (1) “According to its actions, the embodied self chooses repeatedly various forms in various conditions in the next life,” and (2) “according to its own qualities and acts, the embodied self chooses the kinds of forms, large and small, that it will take on” (qtd. in Herman 131). Therefore, it is the self that chooses the form it wants to be. What is remarkable here is to note that every self gets what it wants and what it deserves. Moreover, the law of karma works automatically because there is no god, according to the abovementioned laws, who can give each self rewards or punishments. Franklin Edgerton comments on this automatic karmic law: “It is man’s relation to propriety or morality, dharma, which alone determines. For more than two thousand years, it appears that almost all Hindus have regarded transmigration, determined by “karma,” as an axiomatic fact. ‘By good deed one becomes what is good; by evil deed, evil’” (qtd. in Herman 132). In this sense, it seems to be clear that the karmic laws work according to the deeds or actions of individuals, not by the choice of any gods. In line with this conception of the karmic laws, Emerson emphasizes the good deeds of people. In “Self-Reliance,” he urges his readers not to depend on good luck. He also believes that we should not take any piece of good fortune as a good omen. He concludes that: A political victory, a rise of rents, the recovery of your sick or the return of your absent friend, or some other favorable event raises your spirits, and you think good days are preparing for you. Do not believe it. Nothing can bring you peace but yourself. Nothing can bring you peace but the triumph of principles (164). Here, Emerson’s notion of self-reliance is very close to the karmic laws. We can choose whatever we want to be; everything is determined by our action or karma. We have freedom of choice and we can achieve the godly qualities that we already have within ourselves; or, we can choose to be devilish by our own karma. Nevertheless, Emerson is sometimes disturbed because he sees two sides of things—oftentimes two opposing sides. In “The Conduct of Life,” he presents a virtue of necessity, and believes that it is the art of living to suspend the oppositions and contradictions in mind. Although he recognizes the potent force of Fate, he wants his readers to believe in freewill. If both Fate and freewill are real, we have to conquer both. But, Emerson asks rhetorically: “How shall a man escape from his ancestors?” Nature is responsible in this notion of heredity because Nature, Emerson believes, brings us both disasters and delights. So, how can we accept the delights that Nature brings and avoid the disasters? There is no short answer to this question, as Emerson argues in “Compensation” that “To empty here, you must condense there.” However, one answer to this problem seems to be clear when Emerson, in “The Conduct of Life,” says that “If we must accept Fate we are not less compelled to affirm liberty.” Thus, Emerson’s concept of liberty or freewill goes hand in hand with the idea of karma because according to both concepts, we can re/construct our fate by our actions. If Emerson’s thinking ever contradicts with Indian thought, it is in his essay “Compensation.” He recognizes the moral values of “the Indian mythology [which] ends in the same ethics; and it would seem impossible for any fable to be invented and get any currency which was not moral” (174). However, he is sometimes troubled because he can see not only two sides of things, but also an inherent contradiction in the concepts of good and evil. In “Compensation,” he seems to accept the existence of evil when he assures his readers that God has created everything for the best. Nonetheless, Emerson continues to be perplexed by the riddle of two-sidedness of things. In one of his bleak statements, he writes that “There is a crack in every thing God has made” (174). He uses the term “polarity” to describe this unevenness in nature. He goes on to claim that “Polarity, or action and reaction, we meet in every part of nature; in darkness and light; in heat and cold….An inevitable dualism bisects nature, so that each thing is a half” (168). Earlier, we have noticed Emerson’s belief that a union of our individual soul and the Over-Soul is the way of mukti [freedom from this material world and sufferings]. This belief resonates perfectly with the concepts of Brahma and atman, but his observation of dualism in “Compensation” paralyzes his faith. He says that “the same dualism underlies the nature and condition of man….Every sweet hath its sour; every evil its good” (169). Because of this dualism and polarity in nature, the union between the individual soul and the Over-Soul becomes difficult. In short, although much of Emerson’s thought and writing corresponds with Indian philosophy and mythology, we see a difference when he thinks that nature is full of dualism, and that this dualism hinders the union between the individual soul and the Over-Soul. 6 Sardar M. Anwaruddin: Emerson’s Passion for Indian Thought 4. Conclusion Despite a little bit of contradiction, much of Emerson’s belief is aligned with the Indian philosophical and religious thought. Three basic concepts of Brahma, namely, formed and formless Brahma, Atman, and Maya, exerted much influence on Emerson’s writings. His essay “The Over-Soul” and poem “Brahma” illustrate the idea of formed and formless Brahma, whereas his “Divinity School Address” deals with the concept of atman—the impersonal god found in every human being. Maya, which denotes a magical power by which the Creator reveals Himself and the mystery of His creation, is probably the most influential Indian concept for Emerson. In his poem “Maia,” essays “Illusions” and “Experience,” and several journal entries, Emerson talks about Maya. In addition, the Bhagavad Gita, an account of conversations between Krishna and Arjuna, is another great source of knowledge and inspiration for Emerson. Throughout his journals, he praises this book and claims that Europe was not able to produce a book like Gita. Finally, the Indian philosophical concept of karma—work or actions by which peoples’ fate is determined—is also dominant in Emerson’s writings. The laws of karma emphasize the actions of individuals and freedom of choice. In “The Conduct of Life” and “Self-Reliance,” Emerson exploits the concept of karma, and urges his readers to be responsible for their own deeds. Thus, the Indian philosophical and religious concepts and teachings had a great influence on Emerson’s intellectual works. By exploring and utilizing Indian spiritual beliefs and philosophical traditions, Emerson paved the way for his successors who continued to dig into the richness of ancient texts such as the Upanisads and the Gita. Therefore, with regard to Emerson’s contribution to American scholars’ growing interest in Indian thought, Dale Riepe is convincingly right when he says that “there has been a continuous concern for Indian thought in the United States since Emerson's early years” (125). References [1] Bode, Carl., ed. The Portable Emerson. New York: Penguin, 1981. [2] Boller, Paul, F. American Transcendentalism, 1830-1860: An Intellectual Inquiry. New York: Perigee, 1975. [3] Buell, Lawrence., ed. The American Transcendentalists. New York: The Modern Library, 2006. [4] Gilman, William H., et al. eds. The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1960. [5] Hamilton, Sue. Indian Philosophy: A Very Short Introduction. New York: Oxford UP, 2001. [6] Herman, A. L. An Introduction to Indian Thought. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1976. [7] Moore, Thomas. The Soul’s Religion: Cultivating a Profoundly Spiritual Way of Life. New York: Harper Collins, 2002. [8] Ralph Waldo Emerson: Collected Poems and Translations. New York: The Library of America, 1994. [9] Riepe, Dale. “Emerson and Indian Philosophy.” Journal of the History of Ideas 28:1 (1967): 115-122. [10] Riepe, Dale. “The Indian Influence in American Philosophy: Emerson to Moore.” Philosophy East and West 17:1/4 (1967): 125-137. [11] Rusk, Ralph L., ed. The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York: Columbia UP, 1939. 
work_dreuf657n5esxm55jhg3xgxdki	----	5758.indd © Nature Publishing Group1980 690 --------- thrown out with a lot of bathwater. Moore gives a useful sketch in Part II, "Darwinism and Evolutionary Thought", of the actual scientific and philosophical issues at work in his period, showing Darwin's difficulties, methodological criticisms, the influence of Herbert Spencer, and the differences that transformed Darwin's Darwinism into neo-Darwinism. (His account of the influence of Paley on Darwin, later in the book, is especially valuable.) Unfortunately, he adopts Morse Peckham's distinction of Darwinism and Darwinisticism - Christian Darwinism "understood Darwin's theory and left it substantially intact, neither emasculating it nor adulterating it with foreign ideas in the interests of dissonance reduction" and Christian Darwinisticism (unpleasing term) "either misunderstood, misinterpreted, or modified Darwin's theory, adulterating it as they had need with non-Darwinian ideas". (Surprisingly, these definitions are not in the index.) It comes as a shock to the student of evolution to find Lamarckism labelled Darwinisticism. Lastly, in Part III, "Theology and Evolution", Moore makes his most valuable contribution, with sketches of 28 Christian controversialists, American and English, their intellectual predispositions, development and final attitudes. Most are substantial figures, well worth analysing. A few are more reminiscent of Elderess Polly, Elderess Antoinette and Newman Weekes, in Matthew Arnold's bland and devastating account of religion in America. Moore shows that some more orthodox Christians, especially Calvinists, had far less difficulty in accepting natural selection and the struggle for existence as the true cause of evolution than did most liberals, and that much of what has been written on the period shows a complete lack of understanding of Protestant stances. It would require a far more massive exposition even than Moore's to do justice to these great themes. Moore has much to say on progress, providence and criteria of explanation. Yet his treatment of theological themes omits, rather surprisingly, all useful mention of the Fall, and not too much is said of the creation of Adam and Eve. The theologically orthodox positions he discusses (and the reader is sometimes not clear about which orthodoxy he is discussing) are mainly of Dissent; Catholics and Anglicans feature prominently but are not as well analysed as Congregationalists, Unitarians or Presbyterians. A more serious weakness is superficiality in the analysis of some of his characters. For example, Frederick Temple is commended (rightly) for his "generous and incisive" sermon to the British Association the day after the famous encounter of Huxley and Wilberforce, and his Relations Between Religion and Science (1885) is quoted as reducing natural selection to "one partial expression" of the original properties impressed on matter by the Creator. (This, of course, is the old fallacy that if you can write an equation for something, then the equation being devoid of emotions, so should we be in contemplating the thing.) Moore also quotes Aubrey Moore's correct criticism that Temple's attitude although he was an Anglican clergyman (and later Archbishop of Canterbury) was pure Deism, not Christianity. But he does not point out that Temple's Relations is one of the worst examples published of using the then ignorance on certain scientific subjects to insist that God must have acted directly in these matters. Huxley's correct criticisms of Lord Kelvin on the age of the Earth disproving evolution by natural selection Better buy a pair of climbing boots Fred Dainton Scientific Productivity: The Effectiveness of Research Groups in Six Countries. Edited by F. M. Andrews. Pp.469. (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge, UK, and New York; UNESCO: Paris, 1979.) £20. REMINDED by the title of this book of currently fashionable productivity deals in wage bargaining and on the evidence of a photostat of the title page, the list of comments and the editor's explanation of the purpose of this book, I undertook to myself to review it in a matter of two or three weeks even though I have a rule that all reviewers have an inescapable duty to read every word the author puts before them. I failed in the task not because ofany physiological inability to reproduce on my retinas faithful images of the words in front of me nor because of any lack of interest in the subject (wouldn't we all like some philosopher's stone which would enable us to improve the productivity of research units?), nor because of any unwillingness to learn the techniques of the sociologist, so abundantly deployed here, if that were the necessary price of wisdom, but simply because of a great weariness of the flesh induced by perusal of the pages. As I hacked my way through the verbal undergrowth, pausing to absorb the significance of each of the numerous qualifying clauses, worked my way through complicated diagrams and then re- read in order to made sure that despite all appearances there must be gold somewhere, I longed for the experience, common sense and humanity of a Medawar to tell us in plain words how Nature Vol. 284 24 April 1980 are dismissed in quoted words as to be "praised more for their vigor than their strength", although a divine making the same point is referred to without qualification. (It is not always clear whether the book is an analysis of attitudes, in which case it should be more trenchant, or a demography, which requires a greater coverage of people.) This book is a 'must' for historians of ideas, useful for students of evolution and theology, and quite interesting enough to recommend to the public generally. D A. J. Cain is Derby Professor of Zoology, University of Liverpool, UK. scientific productivity can be increased. My prayers were answered for on the 28th February his Advice to a Young Scientist was published and happily fell into my hands, and, though this latter book contains no figures, no tables and less than one-fifth of the verbiage of Scientific Productivity and is not explicitly directed to this subject, Medawar has far more of value to say to scientists, scientific administrators, and science policy makers and watchers at one-quarter of the cost. Scientific productivity is a difficult concept, raising questions of volume, intellectual or experimental excellence, magnitude and nature of the impact of the research unit's output on the development of the subject (some developments seen as exciting at the time they are published are later shown to be inhibitors rather than catalysts of progress, a point not really brought out in the book), applicability to economic or social ends etc., etc. Moreover the weight to be attached to each of these many factors might be expected to depend not only on time but on the social and political viewpoint of the assessor. So one has great sympathy with the team of investigators in their methodological difficulties. Therefore the reader tends to concentrate on the conclusions to see if they are so much better and more useful than widely held views and opinions that, as that rock of common sense Ralph Waldo Emerson predicted "The world will make a beaten path to his [in this case the authors'] door". I fear the world will not, for who will want to read so much to arrive at conclusions like the following. I quote from Part 1 : "The social position of the individual within the social hierarchy of a research unit proves to be one important correlate of differences in performance at the individual level and the size, age and scientific exchanges of the research unit are additional factors that relate to group productivity", "The results from academic research units seem to be in accord with the 'human relations thesis' that is, that the idea that good leadership © Nature Publishing Group1980 Nature Vol. 284 24 April 1980 leads to a high group morale and that high morale leads to increased productivity by group members", "that human resources are more significant than [financial resources or access to information]'', "The results show that higher levels of effectiveness tend to occur where there is more communication" and "That higher performing units tended to have more dedicated professional members with more diverse working roles and intellectual resources". But one must have some sympathy for the authors. It seems that a questionnaire, reproduced in an appendix, was sent out to a large number of workers in many European research units. 11,000 of them in 1,200 units distributed over six countries responded. Those who devised the questionnaire are also the authors of the 14 chapters which comprise the book and they had at their disposal all the information elicited by the questionnaires. Apart from the first two chapters (in many ways the best in the book) describing how the International Comparative Study on the Organisation and Performance of Research Units was conceived and mounted and the resultant data analysed, each chapter is by a different author or group of authors. Full freedom was given to each to use his or her own methodology and to exercise personal judgements, and no attempt was made to draw them into a symposium at which differences and common features of their conclusions could be collectively explored. Indeed there seems to have been a perverse pride in avoiding this useful device and also in inexplicably arranging the chapters in an order "alphabetical by the authors' national or international affiliation". I expect that, like myself, other sociologic- ally illiterate scientists would have been grateful to have had some guidance provided by a consensus of the consortium members as to the weights to be attached to the various findings. Nonetheless several chapters do have some useful reviews of past work, and some conclusions are drawn from this and from the empirical data yielded by the enquiry. It is sadly rromc that the book appears under the imprimatur of Cambridge University where so many highly successful research units have been established either by administrative fiat or more often have evolved from a happy coincidence in time and place of an opportunity and those capable of seizing it. This prompts the questions as to whether Max Perutz, when building up and running the highly successful Laboratory of Molecular Biology in Cambridge, and indeed others with similar track records, would have done better if they had had all these conclusions firmly embedded in their consciousnesses and, more importantly, whether those charged with the responsibility for establishing units in the future would make better decisions after reading this book. The answers must remain a matter for conjecture but I am quite certain that they would have been even better advised to read Medawar and then ask themselves a series of questions: for example "Would a research unit in this field offer a reasonable prospect either of a significant advance in knowledge or of meeting some societal need? How can I identify and appoint the highest quality person(s) to lead it and procure the necessary material resources for them? What is the best intellectual environment for the unit to flourish?" And perhaps of greater importance "How can the inevitable tension between the paymaster and the research unit be mediated so as to maximize the freedom of the Director and his staff which is necessary for high creativity and productivity without giving them a licence grossly to ignore the terms of reference under which they operate?" Then there is finally the most difficult question as to how one is to know when the research unit has served its purpose or has lost its quality and should be closed. There is little in this book which helps with the resolution of these practical problems and what there is is difficult to quarry without reading the whole book for there is no subject index. Of course this is not the only book which fails such tests of practical utility to the decision makers but which may nonetheless be of value to the community of scholars to which the authors belong, in this case all those interested in sociological enquiry. I am not competent to express any opinion on this latter question, and in any case this is perhaps of less relevance because the Foreword by UNESCO makes it plain that the work was the outcome of that body's Nineteenth General Conference and the same Foreword refers sympathetically to " ... citizens in many countries asking for more public accountability. They want to know the use to which their resources are put and they demand that the programs that they support shall be both efficient and effective". That these desires should be gratified is unexceptionable. This principle can equally be applied to the UNESCO programme of which this book is the visible and ponderous product. All the more pity that we are not told how much the whole enterprise cost and thus be able to judge whether the expenditure was justified. I have a strong feeling that if those scientific directors of research units who spend £20 on this book were each to buy, at slightly greater cost, a pair of good mountaineering boots and, after salubrious daily scrambles, to confer on this topic in the evenings throughout a week spent at some delectable Alpine centre they would bring down from the mountain more useful tablets than this book. D Sir Fred Dainton is Chairman of the British Library Board, London, UK. 691 MEDICINAL CHEMISTRY VI The proceedings of the 6th International Symposium on Medicinal Chemistry, held in Brighton, U.K. September 1978 are now available at a price of £32. ISBN 0-906649-00-5 478 pages casebound TRANSFORMATION - 1978 The proceedings of the Fourth European Meeting on Bacterial Transformation and Transfection, held in York. U.K. September 1978 are now available at a price of £22. ISBN 0-906649-01-3 466 pages casebound Both the above are available from: COTSWOLD PRESS LIMITED FERRY HINKSEY ROAD BOTLEY ROAD OXFORD OX2 OBY Telephone: (0865) 45415 Circle No. 22 on Reader Enqufry°Card. AMERICAN NUCLEAR SOCIETY 555 No. Kensington Avenue La Grange Park, IIHnois 60525 USA ANS PUBLICATIONS AND SERVICES Sendfor-0 Send tacts_ D Sendtacts_ 0 Send tacts_ 0 "Publication Catalog."· without charge about ··Nuclear Technology"" about ··Nuclear Science and Engineering about ··Nuclear Power & the Environment" O&A Send tact,_ 0 about Nuclear Reactor Directory Send tacts_ D about Nuclear Research Information Center Send tacts_ 0 about ··information Center on Nuclear Standards·· Send tacts - 0 about ANS Member ship- md1v1dual Send tacts- 0 about ANS Member ship- organization Send facts_~ on advertising ··Nuclear News" Enter my for Nuclear News and subscription_ 0 bill me at the current subscription rate. Send tacts - 0 about text books NAME TITLE COMPANY ADDRESS CITY STATE ZIP COUNTRY Circle No. 04on Reader Enquiry Card. Better buy a pair of climbing boots 
work_dszun47edvaepjduqoilzah2zi	----	Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wydział Nauk Pedagogicznych. Dolnośląska Szkoła Wyższa we Wrocławiu Przemysław Eugeniusz Kaniok Uniwersytet Opolski Agnieszka Sekułowicz Wydział Nauk Pedagogicznych. Dolnośląska Szkoła Wyższa we Wrocławiu Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin w Republice Namibii Abstrakt: Artykuł jest poświęcony trudnym problemom wsparcia dzieci z niepeł- nosprawnością i ich rodzin w Namibii. Poprzez opis sytuacji społeczno-kulturowej przedstawiono specyfikę edukacji i integracji tych dzieci. Artykuł zawiera informację na temat form pomocy i organizacji niosących pomoc dla rodzin dzieci z niepełno- sprawnością. Słowa kluczowe: integracja, kształcenie, Namibia, niepełnosprawność, rehabili- tacja, wsparcie 142 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania Kontakt: Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wydział Nauk Pedagogicznych. Dolnośląska Szkoła Wyższa we Wrocławiu ul. Strzegomska 55, 53-611 Wrocław gosiase@dsw.edu.pl Przemysław Eugeniusz Kaniok Uniwersytet Opolski kaniokp@uni.opole.pl Agnieszka Sekułowicz Wydział Nauk Pedagogicznych. Dolnośląska Szkoła Wyższa we Wrocławiu asekulowicz@gmail.com Jak cytować: Sekułowicz, M., Kaniok, P. E. i Sekułowicz, A. (2013). Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin w Republice Namibii. Forum Oświatowe, 1(48), 141-153. Pobrano z: http://forumoswiatowe.pl/index.php/ czasopismo/article/view/31 How to cite: Sekułowicz, M., Kaniok, P. E. i Sekułowicz, A. (2013). Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin w Republice Namibii. Forum Oświatowe, 1(48), 141-153. Retrieved from: http://forumoswiatowe.pl/index.php/ czasopismo/article/view/31 Krótka charakterystyka kraju Prezentowany artykuł powstał z inspiracji, jaka zrodziła się podczas pobytu jego autorów w  Republice Namibii1. Pośrednim powodem napisania tego artykułu jest mała liczba publikacji zarówno na temat samego kraju, jak i przede wszystkim żyją- cych w nim rodzin wychowujących dzieci z niepełnosprawnością. Namibia to kraj położony w  południowo-zachodniej części Afryki, którego po- wierzchnia wynosi 824 290 km2. Szacuje się, że populacja tego kraju wynosi ponad 2 miliony mieszkańców (World Bank, 2009, s. vii). Pod względem liczebności oby- wateli Namibia stanowi jeden z najsłabiej zaludnionych krajów Afryki. Słowa, które najlepiej oddają panujący w tym kraju klimat, wypowiedział jeden z najbardziej zna- nych amerykańskich poetów, eseistów i myślicieli XIX wieku – Ralph Waldo Emerson: „każdy wschód słońca przynosi obietnicę nowego zachodu”. Słowa te utwierdzają nas w przekonaniu, że najbardziej charakterystycznym elementem klimatu w tym kraju jest słońce, które nie daje o  sobie zapomnieć nawet w  zimie. Poza słońcem bardzo charakterystyczne jest również suche powietrze, które nie sprzyja uprawie większo- ści roślin, a jednocześnie pośrednio bardzo ujemnie wpływa na rozwój gospodarczy kraju i poziom zatrudnienia jego obywateli. Jednym z dobrodziejstw Namibii są dia- menty. Ponadto znaczącą gałęzią przemysłu, w  której zatrudnienie znajduje spora część obywateli jest rybołówstwo. Wbrew pozorom, znalezienie pracy nie należy do łatwych zadań szczególnie dla tych, którzy nie posiadają wyższego wykształcenia (World Bank, 2009, s. 5). Oszacowano, że w 2008 roku poziom bezrobocia wyniósł 51,2% (Central Intelligence Agency, 2011). Biorąc pod uwagę fakt, że w roku 2004 bez- robotni Namibijczycy stanowili 37% całego społeczeństwa (World Bank, 2009, s. 12) można stwierdzić, że bezrobocie rośnie w tym kraju w bardzo szybkim tempie. Innym mailto:gosiase@dsw.edu.pl 143 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... niepokojącym zjawiskiem jest ubóstwo, które, pomimo spadku sprzed kilkunastu lat, z  37,1% na odnotowane niedawno 28%, nadal jest wysokie i  dotyczy w  większo- ści rodzin mieszkających na wsiach (World Bank, 2009, s. 2). Tuż obok bezrobocia i ubóstwa, kwestią równie istotną jest występujący w szkolnictwie namibijskim niski poziom kształcenia i  brak pomocy udzielanej dzieciom w  odrabianiu zadań domo- wych przez ich rodziców, którzy sami nie ukończyli edukacji. Aby poprawić sytuację władze Namibii przeznaczają co roku 9% produktu krajowego brutto na edukację (World Bank, 2007). Wprowadzenie Na podstawie danych statystycznych, jakimi dysponuje Światowa Organizacja Zdrowia, stwierdzono, że 10% wszystkich mieszkańców Ziemi to osoby z  niepeł- nosprawnością różnego typu i  zakresu (World Health Organization [WHO], 2005), z czego 80% zamieszkuje kraje rozwijające się. Jednym z takich krajów jest Republika Namibii. Panujące w  niej bezrobocie, ubóstwo oraz niski poziom kształcenia dzie- ci i  młodzieży w  znacznym stopniu warunkują jakość życia jej współczesnych oby- wateli, w tym między innymi rodzin wychowujących dzieci z niepełnosprawnością. Niemniej jednak z  uwagi na obowiązujące w  tym państwie akty legislacyjne osoby z  niepełnosprawnością, ludzie starsi, osoby ubogie, osierocone dzieci, jak również weterani wojenni mogą liczyć na pomoc ze strony państwa. Namibia jest jednym z nielicznych państw w południowej Afryce, które posiada ustawę o ubezpieczeniach społecznych, gwarantującą obywatelom prawo do zasiłku, urlopu macierzyńskiego, chorobowego, a także do świadczeń zdrowotnych. Według informacji zawartych w  spisie powszechnym Republiki Namibii z  roku 2001 osoby z niepełnosprawnością w Namibii stanowiły 5% całego społeczeństwa, czy- li ponad 100 tysięcy obywateli (Haihambo i Lightfoot, 2010, s. 76). Prowadzona przez władze namibijskie polityka integracji środowiska osób z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin z ludźmi pełnosprawnymi nie zawsze znajdowała odzwierciedlenie w rzeczy- wistości. Najlepszym tego przykładem jest dość powszechna, szczególnie na wsiach, praktyka polegająca na wykluczaniu dzieci z  niepełnosprawnością ze szkół i  społe- czeństwa. Biorąc pod uwagę, że ponad 60% społeczeństwa Namibii żyje na terenach wiejskich (World Bank, 2009, s. 2) jakiekolwiek przejawy dyskryminacji dzieci z zabu- rzeniami w rozwoju mogą budzić uzasadniony niepokój. Jednym z czynników, który może odgrywać istotną rolę w  podejściu społeczeństwa do dzieci z  niepełnospraw- nością i ich rodzin, są między innymi wierzenia ludowe. Można w nich znaleźć bez- pośrednie odniesienia do samej niepełnosprawności, jak również do przyczyn, które ją wywołują. Wśród najczęściej spotykanych w większości plemion subsaharyjskiej Afryki przekonań, dotyczących powodów, dla których dziecko jest niepełnosprawne wymienić można przekonanie, że przed zajściem w ciążę matka współżyła z więcej niż jednym partnerem. Zdarza się także, że lokalna społeczność upatruje powód nie- pełnosprawności dziecka w tym, że rodzina, chcąc zaoszczędzić na wydatkach zwią- zanych z wizytami u znachorów, mających zapewnić pomyślność przy narodzinach 144 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania dziecka, nie postępowała zgodnie z ich zaleceniami. Z kolei w przypadku narodzin bliźniaków tej samej płci panuje przekonanie, że jeden z nich powinien być uśmier- cony, aby ustrzec resztę członków rodziny przed śmiercią lub innym nieszczęściem. Czasami niepełnosprawność dziecka w rodzinie bywa również asocjowana z efektem rzucenia klątwy na rodzinę przez zazdrosnego konkurenta męża lub z karą za niecho- dzenie rodziny do kościoła, bądź też „z rzuconym na dziecko urokiem” jeszcze w łonie matki. Szczególnie dotkliwe konsekwencje wierzeń ludowych Namibijczyków dotyka- ją nowo narodzonych albinosów, których zwykło się uśmiercać, aby uniknąć klątwy. Stosunkowo częstą sytuacją w  rodzinie dotkniętej problemem niepełnosprawności dziecka jest odejście od niej ojca, który uzasadnia to tym, że w jego rodzinie nigdy nie było osób z niepełnosprawnością (Haihambo i Lightfoot, 2010, s. 77). Skutecznym instrumentem w walce z wyżej wymienionymi wierzeniami i mitami ma być ciągle udoskonalany, namibijski system legislacyjny. Stąd też do jednych z najistotniejszych zadań, przed jakimi stoi współczesna polityka Namibii, zaliczyć można walkę z wszel- kiego rodzaju przejawami dyskryminacji jej obywateli, w tym między innymi osób z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin, a także podejmowanie działań zmierzających do integracji tego środowiska ze społeczeństwem. Wyrazem takiego stanowiska jest prze- strzeganie przez rząd namibijski międzynarodowych umów i konwencji, wśród któ- rych wymienić można Deklarację Praw Osób Niepełnosprawnych z 1975 roku (United Nations, 1975), Dziesięciolecie Niepełnosprawnych Afryki 2000-2009 (African Union, 2002), jak również powstałą w  ramach działalności UNESCO, Deklarację Światowej Konferencji Kształcenia dla Wszystkich, proklamowaną w  Tajlandii w  1990 roku (United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization [UNESCO], 1990). Ponadto Deklarację z Salamanki, dotyczącą wytycznych dla działań w zakresie spe- cjalnych potrzeb edukacyjnych (UNESCO, 1994). Poza respektowaniem wspomnianych umów międzynarodowych, władze Namibii opracowały Krajową Politykę na Rzecz Osób Niepełnosprawnych, której zasadniczym celem jest tworzenie społeczeństwa otwartego na wszystkich jego obywateli, opartego na Standardowych Zasadach Wyrównywania Szans Osób Niepełnosprawnych (Government of the Republic of Namibia, Ministry of Lands, Resettlement and Rehabilitation, 1997). Pomimo podejmowanych przez władze Namibii działań i inicjatyw, zmierzających do pełnej integracji osób z niepełnosprawnością ze społeczeństwem, stosunkowo czę- sto zauważyć można nieodosobnione przypadki, w których rodzice wstydzą się swo- jego niepełnosprawnego dziecka będąc przekonanymi o tym, że właśnie w ten sposób zostali „ukarani przez Boga”. Dlatego też próbują za wszelką cenę ukryć fakt, że ich dziecko jest niepełnosprawne, ignorując zarazem wszystkie jego potrzeby, wynikają- ce z niskiego stopnia samodzielności. Dodatkowym problemem, z jakim muszą się zmierzyć władze namibijskie, jest brak wczesnej wykrywalności schorzeń, zaburzeń i nieprawidłowości rozwojowych u nowo narodzonych dzieci w placówkach medycz- nych, co w konsekwencji prowadzi do braku wdrażania odpowiedniej terapii. 145 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin Dokonując prezentacji wybranych form pomocy i wsparcia namibijskich rodzin dzieci z niepełnosprawnością należy podkreślić, że są one świadczone zarówno przez państwo, jak też przez organizacje dobroczynne. W przypadku pomocy oferowanej rodzicom przez państwo przebiega ona najczęściej w ramach szkolnictwa powszech- nego. Wyróżnić można zaledwie kilka szkół powszechnych, w  których prowadzo- ne są klasy specjalne, przeznaczone dla 12-15 uczniów z trudnościami w uczeniu się. Większość z  nich znajduje się w  Windhoek – stolicy Namibii. Poza działalnością przyszkolnych klas specjalnych, funkcjonuje również 10 szkół specjalnych dla dzieci z  niepełnosprawnością ruchową i  intelektualną, z  dysfunkcją słuchu, z  dysfunkcją wzroku oraz kilka szkół przyszpitalnych. Ponadto w kraju działają szkoły integracyj- ne, w których prowadzone jest kształcenie inkluzyjne, nazywane także kształceniem włączającym. Jednym z  aktualnych postulatów namibijskiego kształcenia inkluzyj- nego jest dążenie do tego, aby kształcenie dzieci z zaburzeniami w rozwoju z dzieć- mi pełnosprawnymi odbywało się już od najmłodszych lat, a  więc od przedszkola (Kahikuata-Kariko, 2011). Istotny wkład w  świadczenie pomocy dzieciom z  niepełnosprawnością i  ich ro- dzinom mają organizacje dobroczynne. Ich działalność skierowana jest zazwyczaj do dzieci z niepełnosprawnością ruchową i intelektualną, a także do dzieci z zaburzenia- mi mowy i słuchu, dzieci z autystycznego spektrum zaburzeń, z albinizmem. W celu zobrazowania różnorodności, jaką charakteryzuje się pomoc zapewniana przez nami- bijskie organizacje pozarządowe dzieciom z zaburzeniami w rozwoju i ich rodzinom, dokonamy krótkiej charakterystyki najważniejszych z nich. Przykładem pierwszej organizacji jest stowarzyszenie, którego głównym celem jest pomoc dzieciom z dysfunkcją słuchu. Według tylko pobieżnych szacunków przypusz- cza się, że w Republice Namibii żyje od 3 do 12 tysięcy dzieci niesłyszących lub słabo słyszących. Jedyną organizacją niosącą w tym kraju pomoc tym dzieciom i ich rodzi- nom jest Stowarzyszenie na Rzecz Dzieci z Zaburzeniami Mowy i Słuchu (ang. The Association for Children with Language, Speech and Hearing Impairments of Namibia [CLASH])2. Założona w 1989 roku przez grupę rodziców dzieci niesłyszących organi- zacja jest jednym z najbardziej znanych, namibijskich stowarzyszeń, którego działal- ność związana jest z takimi obszarami jak zdrowie, edukacja oraz prawa człowieka. Szczególnie ważnym aspektem działalności tej instytucji jest wczesne diagnozowanie utraty słuchu u małych dzieci, jak również wczesne metody ich leczenia. Kierując się chęcią zapewnienia swoim beneficjentom jak najlepszej jakości świadczonych usług, władze i pracownicy stowarzyszenia starają się podchodzić do pracy z dziećmi z za- burzeniami słuchu i z ich rodzinami w sposób interdyscyplinarny. W tym celu stowa- rzyszenie podejmuje ścisłą współpracę z namibijskimi instytucjami rządowymi i po- zarządowymi, w tym w szczególności z Ministerstwem Zdrowia i Służb Socjalnych, Ministerstwem Edukacji Narodowej oraz Ministerstwem ds. Równości Płciowej oraz Praw Dziecka. Warto nadmienić, że opisywana organizacja odgrywa w namibijskim 146 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania społeczeństwie obywatelskim szczególnie ważną rolę z dwóch powodów. Po pierwsze stowarzyszenie to jest jedyną instytucją w Namibii, która zapewnia dzieciom z dys- funkcją słuchu, sprofilowany do ich potrzeb, program kształcenia wczesnoszkolnego. Po drugie jest to organizacja, która posiada swój własny statut oraz zarząd, składa- jący się z ośmiu członków pełniących swoje funkcje pro publico bono. Skład zarządu odzwierciedla zróżnicowanie społeczeństwa pod względem kulturowym, rasowym i  językowym. Każdego roku zarząd stowarzyszenia publikuje raport ze swojej dzia- łalności. Do celów statutowych stowarzyszenia należą: » ocena dziecka pod względem jego umiejętności komunikowania się, mowy oraz słuchu, » stymulowanie rozwoju mowy i sposobu komunikowania się dziecka ze środo- wiskiem zewnętrznym ze szczególnym uwzględnieniem nauki namibijskiego języka migowego, » zapewnianie rodzicom dzieci z zaburzeniami słuchu wsparcia, » organizowanie kampanii społecznych na temat uświadamiania społeczeństwa w zakresie problemów, z jakimi borykają się dzieci głuchonieme i ich rodziny, » wydawanie publikacji o tematyce związanej z pracą stowarzyszenia na rzecz osób niesłyszących, » organizacja szkoleń dotyczących pracy z dziećmi niesłyszącymi dla personelu medycznego oraz nauczycieli, » prowadzenie specjalistycznej edukacji wczesnoszkolnej w jedynym tego typu oddziale przedszkolnym w całej Republice Namibii. Misją stowarzyszenia jest zapewnianie dzieciom z wadami słuchu i mowy prawa do ich właściwego rozwoju oraz równego dostępu do edukacji i innych usług, w tym przede wszystkim do usług odpowiadających ich potrzebom od jak najmłodszych lat. W celu bardziej efektywnego działania stowarzyszenie posiada również swój wła- sny plan strategii, sprowadzony do pięciu zasadniczych zadań, do których należą: » udoskonalanie programów wczesnej wykrywalności wad słuchu i  mowy u dzieci oraz poprawa jakości ich leczenia, » kształcenie rodziców oraz zwiększanie ich świadomości na temat niepełno- sprawności ich dzieci, » poprawa efektywności kształcenia wczesnoszkolnego oraz nauczania dzieci z wadami słuchu i mowy w namibijskich szkołach podstawowych, » pomoc przy rozwijaniu namibijskiego języka migowego oraz jego nauczanie wśród dzieci niesłyszących, ich rodziców oraz przyjaciół, » pozyskiwanie środków finansowych, niezbędnych do wypełniania zadań sto- warzyszenia. Powodem aż tak rozbudowanej strategii działania stowarzyszenia jest brak w nami- bijskim systemie opieki zdrowotnej jakiegokolwiek programu wczesnego wykrywania u dzieci wad słuchu. W szpitalach ginekologiczno-położniczych nie przeprowadza się szczegółowych badań słuchu noworodków, chociażby w trakcie ich szczepień. Badań słuchu dzieci nie przeprowadza się także w żadnej szkole ani przedszkolu. W związku z brakiem wczesnej wykrywalności wad słuchu u dzieci pozostają one zazwyczaj nie- 147 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... zdiagnozowane aż do momentu osiągnięcia przez nie pełnoletności. Ich sytuację po- garszają dodatkowo ubóstwo oraz niski poziom wykształcenia rodziców, szczególnie z terenów wiejskich. Ponadto tylko jeden szpital w Namibii zatrudnia audiologa i te- rapeutę wad słuchu i mowy. Brak specjalistów zajmujących się dziećmi niesłyszącymi wpływa w negatywny sposób na wszelkie próby ich rehabilitacji. Zaledwie 500 dzieci z dysfunkcją słuchu z całego kraju może liczyć na fachową pomoc i wsparcie w dalszej ich edukacji. Kolejnym istotnym problemem jest brak kwalifikacji zawodowych pe- dagogów specjalnych do pracy z dziećmi niesłyszącymi. Swoje doświadczenie w tym zakresie zdobywają najczęściej podczas wykonywania swojej pracy. Lukę w edukacji nauczycieli pracujących z dziećmi z wadami słuchu i mowy wypełnia od 1991 roku właśnie opisywane stowarzyszenie, organizując seminaria oraz szkolenia poświęco- ne problematyce edukacji dzieci niesłyszących. Pomimo wielokrotnego podnoszenia, przy wielu okazjach, kwestii konieczności wprowadzenia przez państwo wczesnej diagnozy dzieci w  zakresie wad słuchu, zadanie to nadal spoczywa tylko i  wyłącz- nie na organizacjach pozarządowych. Dzięki staraniom stowarzyszenia w roku 1994 założono pierwsze przedszkole dla dzieci niesłyszących, które jest jedyną tego typu placówką w Namibii, stanowiącą najlepszy przykład pozytywnych zmian, jakie mogą się dokonać w ich życiu. Następną organizacją niosącą pomoc dzieciom z  niepełnosprawnością oraz ich rodzinom w Namibii jest Sieć na Rzecz Osób Niepełnosprawnych (ang. Special Needs Network [SNN])3. Organizacja ta stanowi istotne źródło wymiany informacji i kontak- tów pomiędzy rodzicami dzieci z  zaburzeniami w  rozwoju oraz przedstawicielami różnych instytucji pomocowych. Stowarzyszenie prowadzi szkolenia i seminaria dla rodziców, bliskich oraz wolontariuszy, mających na co dzień kontakt z osobami z nie- pełnosprawnością. W  obszarze kształcenia wczesnoszkolnego stowarzyszenie pro- wadzi projekt w jednej z najuboższych dzielnic stolicy Namibii – Katuturze, zaadre- sowany do niepełnosprawnych dzieci. Projekt zatytułowany „Wczesna Interwencja w  Katuturze” (ang. Early Intervention in Katutura [EIK]) skierowany jest do rodzin dzieci z  wszystkimi rodzajami niepełnosprawności. W  momencie zdiagnozowania u  dziecka rodzaju jego niepełnosprawności, pracownicy projektu oferują wsparcie zarówno samemu dziecku, jak również jego rodzicom i  bliskim, polegające na ich udziale w  zajęciach terapeutycznych lub wspólnej zabawie. Dzięki prowadzonym przez pracowników organizacji obserwacjom dzieci, są one kierowane przez nich do odpowiednich szkół, bądź też przedszkoli. Aktualnie w projekcie uczestniczy 30 dzieci w wieku od 1 do 11 lat, uczęszczających do przedszkoli, bądź też pozostających w domu. W planach organizacji jest wyszkolenie namibijskich opiekunów w taki spo- sób, aby mogli oni brać pełną odpowiedzialność za terapię dzieci z niepełnosprawno- ścią w ich domach, a także instruowanie samych rodziców, jak powinni się opiekować swoimi dziećmi. Dzięki wsparciu oferowanemu rodzicom, będą oni w  przyszłości nabywać umiejętność bardziej skutecznego egzekwowania od władz namibijskich usług i świadczeń, przysługujących ich dzieciom. Wśród różnorodnych namibijskich organizacji pozarządowych, których działal- ność skierowana jest na rzecz dzieci z nieprawidłowościami rozwojowymi, wyróżnić 148 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania można stowarzyszenie zajmujące się problematyką osób z  autystycznego spektrum zaburzeń o  nazwie Autyzm – Namibia (ang. Autism Namibia)4. W  skład stowarzy- szenia wchodzą rodzice dzieci z autyzmem i innymi zaburzeniami spektrum, osoby dorosłe z tym zaburzeniem rozwojowym oraz specjaliści zajmujący się problematyką autyzmu. Działalność tej organizacji służy między innymi promowaniu w społeczeń- stwie problematyki związanej z  funkcjonowaniem osób z  autystycznego spektrum oraz zapewnianiu ich rodzinom wzajemnej wymiany informacji na temat tego zabu- rzenia. Celem stowarzyszenia jest zapewnianie wsparcia, pomocy oraz szkoleń z za- kresu autyzmu rodzicom tych dzieci oraz pracującym z nimi na co dzień specjalistom. Istotnym aspektem działalności opisywanej instytucji jest wymiana informacji pomię- dzy organizacjami z  całego świata, zajmującymi się zagadnieniem autyzmu w  swo- ich społeczeństwach. Ze względu na problemy związane z pozyskiwaniem środków finansowych na dalszą działalność stowarzyszenia oraz duże zróżnicowanie potrzeb osób z  autyzmem i  ich rodzin realizacja celów statutowych organizacji staje się co- raz trudniejsza. Aktualna działalność organizacji oparta jest na pracy wolontariuszy i w pełni zależy od dobrowolnych dotacji obywateli Namibii. Zebrane środki finan- sowe przeznaczane są na następujące cele: » działalność specjalistów pracujących z dziećmi i osobami dorosłymi z różnego rodzaju formami autyzmu, » szkolenia rodziców i specjalistów z zakresu wiedzy o autyzmie, » budowa i  wyposażenie diagnostycznego centrum wsparcia dla osób z  auty- zmem, » kształcenie dzieci i dorosłych z autyzmem. Do grona namibijskich organizacji pozarządowych niosących pomoc dzieciom z  niepełnosprawnością i  ich rodzinom można także zaliczyć Filię Fundacji im. Leonarda Cheshire z Londynu (ang. The Leonard Cheshire International Foundation)5. Fundacja rozpoczęła swoją działalność w roku 1948 z inicjatywy Kapitana Leonarda Cheshire, który poświęcił swoje życie na umożliwianie osobom z niepełnosprawno- ścią dokonywania wyborów w  swoim życiu, a  także na świadczeniu im usług po- mocowych w Wielkiej Brytanii oraz na całym świecie. Aktualnie fundacja świadczy osobom z niepełnosprawnościami o charakterze fizycznym 250 różnego rodzaju usług w 55 krajach na całym świecie. Fundacja Leonarda Cheshire koordynuje międzynaro- dowy program, którego głównym celem jest pomoc osobom z niepełnosprawnością z krajów rozwijających się w stawaniu się niezależnymi finansowo poprzez udzielanie im pożyczek w celu założenia swojego własnego, małego przedsiębiorstwa lub sfinan- sowanie im szkolenia zawodowego. W ramach swojej działalności w Namibii fundacja sprawuje opiekę nad dziećmi z niepełnosprawnością fizyczną w dwóch założonych przez nią środowiskowych domach opieki w Anamulenge oraz Katima Mulilo. Założony w 1986 roku Dom Opieki w Anamulenge jest miejscem, w którym do- celowo może przebywać 20 dzieci z niepełnosprawnością. W chwili obecnej mieszka w nim 12 dzieci z niepełnosprawnością fizyczną. Drugi fundacyjny ośrodek, znajdu- jący się w Katima Mulilo, powstał w 1994 roku i jest domem dla 30 dzieci z niepeł- nosprawnością ruchową. Domy opieki należące do Fundacji Cheshire są miejscami, 149 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... w których namibijskie dzieci z niepełnosprawnościami fizycznymi mają możliwość rozwoju. Mieszkające w  tych ośrodkach dzieci uczęszczają do szkół publicznych, gdzie rozwijają swoją niezależność i nabywają pewności siebie. Dzieci uczą się także dodatkowych umiejętności, takich jak pisanie na komputerze lub pływanie. W czasie wakacji dzieci udają się do swoich rodzin. Fundacja przeprowadza również okre- sowe badania dzieci pod kątem ewentualnych wad słuchu lub wzroku, a  następnie, jeśli istnieje taka potrzeba, kieruje je do odpowiednich organizacji, zajmujących się konkretnymi rodzajami schorzeń. Ponadto do fundacji mogą się zwracać członko- wie społeczności lokalnych, którzy posiadają dzieci z zaburzeniami w rozwoju i chcą zasięgnąć konsultacji, skorzystać z  leczenia lub wziąć udział w  szkoleniu na temat, jak sobie radzić z  niepełnosprawnością ich dziecka. W  ramach działalności funda- cji prowadzony jest program rehabilitacji dzieci w społecznościach lokalnych, który koordynowany jest z jej dwóch ośrodków. Pracownicy organizacji rehabilitują także dorosłe osoby z niepełnosprawnością oraz osoby w podeszłym wieku w miejscu ich zamieszkania. Realizowany przez fundację program rehabilitacji dzieci w społeczno- ściach lokalnych wspomaga wczesną diagnostykę w zakresie ich niepełnosprawności, a także uczy ludzi jak należy je traktować w środowisku. Inną organizacją pozarządową działającą w  Namibii dla dobra dzieci z  niepeł- nosprawnością oraz ich rodzin jest Stowarzyszenie na Rzecz Osób Cierpiących na Albinizm (ang. Support In Namibia of Albinism Sufferers Requiring Assistance [SINASRA])6. Jest to namibijska organizacja dobroczynna, która pierwotnie była pro- jektem Klubu „Rotary”, a  następnie została przekształcona w  niezależną organiza- cję, zachowując jednak założenia i cele przyświecające organizacji macierzystej. Do głównych założeń stowarzyszenia należy troska o ludzi z albinizmem i zapewnienie im godnego bytu w  społeczeństwie. W  celu ich ochrony przed nowotworem skóry oraz przedwczesną śmiercią, organizacja zapewnia im ubrania ochronne, kremy z fil- trem przeciwsłonecznym oraz informacje dotyczące ich schorzenia. Stowarzyszenie dostarcza również tym osobom odpowiednie okulary, zapobiegające utracie wzroku. Chorujące na albinizm dzieci, które otrzymały stosowne okulary we wczesnym wieku, mają większe szanse na poradzenie sobie w trakcie ich integracji w normalnej klasie szkolnej. Dzięki dobremu wzrokowi osoby te są znacznie lepiej motywowane do dal- szych sukcesów w nauce, łatwiej rozbudza się w nich potencjał, a także szybciej osią- gają samodzielność. Beneficjenci tego stowarzyszenia stanowią jedną z  najbardziej dyskryminowanych grup społecznych w  Republice Namibii. Według afrykańskich wierzeń ludowych osoby z albinizmem są traktowane między innymi jako „wcielenia duchów zmarłych” lub jako ludzie, którzy posiadają „magiczną moc”, przynoszącą in- nym szczęście. Stąd też zdarza się, że są oni prześladowani, zabijani, a z części ich ciał produkowane są amulety. Kierując się wytycznymi Klubu „Rotary” stowarzyszenie SINASRA kładzie w swojej działalności szczególną uwagę na zapewnianie osobom z al- binizmem lepszej przyszłości oraz lepszych warunków bytowych. Dzięki pozyskiwa- nym przez organizację środkom finansowym sytuacja ludzi z albinizmem w Namibii sukcesywnie się poprawia. Finanse, jakimi dysponuje stowarzyszenie, przeznaczane są na następujące potrzeby tych osób: 150 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania » opieka zdrowotna, w tym okresowe badanie wzroku, » zapewnianie odzieży ochronnej, » zapewnianie kremów z filtrem, » zapewnianie okularów przeciwsłonecznych, » zapewnianie okularów i soczewek korygujących ostrość wzroku, » zapewnianie informacji zaprzeczających krzywdzącym wierzeniom ludowym, » wsparcie edukacyjne. Do grupy namibijskich organizacji pozarządowych oferujących swoją pomoc i wsparcie dzieciom z niepełnosprawnością oraz ich rodzinom zaliczyć można rów- nież Stowarzyszenie – Akcja na Rzecz Dzieci Niepełnosprawnych (ang. Children with Handicaps Action in Namibia [CHAIN])7. Organizacja powstała w  1992 roku w  miejscowości Swakopmund z  inicjatywy trzech matek dzieci z  zespołem Downa. Powodem założenia tej organizacji była chęć stworzenia sieci wsparcia i infolinii dla rodziców tych dzieci. Z  doświadczeń założycielek stowarzyszenia jasno wynikało, że rodzice dzieci z  niepełnosprawnością potrzebują wsparcia. Dlatego w  1995 roku zakres działalności organizacji poszerzono o wszystkie rodzaje niepełnosprawności, jakie występują u dzieci. Do głównych zadań stowarzyszenia należą: » tworzenie oddziałów wczesnego wykrywania niepełnosprawności dla wszyst- kich namibijskich dzieci, » pozyskiwanie funduszy na zatrudnianie lekarzy specjalistów konsultujących konkretne przypadki dzieci z niepełnosprawnością, » zapewnianie dzieciom zajęć fizjoterapeutycznych oraz rehabilitacji, » pomaganie dzieciom w ich rozwoju oraz adaptacji do codziennego życia, » integracja dzieci z niepełnosprawnością z dziećmi pełnosprawnymi w przed- szkolach i szkołach, » zachęcanie rodziców do ich aktywnego udziału w rozwoju ich dzieci z niepeł- nosprawnością. Podsumowanie Próbując usystematyzować wiedzę na temat współczesnych form pomocy i wspar- cia, zapewnianym dzieciom z  nieprawidłowościami w  rozwoju oraz ich rodzinom w Republice Namibii, warto zwrócić uwagę na kilka interesujących kwestii. Po pierwsze, po dokonaniu stosunkowo pobieżnego przeglądu wybranych, aktu- alnie funkcjonujących instytucji rządowych oraz pozarządowych, których działalność skierowana jest na pracę z dzieckiem z niepełnosprawnością i z jego rodziną, w obsza- rze tym zauważyć można zdecydowaną przewagę organizacji dobroczynnych nad in- stytucjami państwowymi w zakresie ilości oraz jakości świadczonych usług. Powodem takiego stanu rzeczy jest w głównej mierze brak środków finansowych, dzięki którym państwo namibijskie mogłoby realizować uchwalone, bądź też ratyfikowane przez sie- bie akty prawne, dotyczące jego zobowiązań względem dzieci z niepełnosprawnością oraz ich rodzin. Sporym problemem dla organizacji charytatywnych, działających na rzecz tych dzieci, jest brak w  pomocy społecznej wyraźnego podziału kompetencji 151 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... pomiędzy państwem a  trzecim sektorem. Sytuacja taka sprawia, że ciężar odpowie- dzialności za świadczenie pomocy i wsparcia dzieciom oraz ich rodzinom całkowicie spada na organizacje pozarządowe. Najlepszą egzemplifikacją konieczności wkracza- nia przez instytucje dobroczynne w zakres kompetencji przynależnych w większości krajów wysoko rozwiniętych do państwa jest kwestia wczesnej diagnostyki nowo- rodków pod kątem ich ewentualnych wad lub zaburzeń rozwojowych. W niniejszym artykule próbowano wykazać, że większość przywołanych w nim organizacji posiada w swoich celach statutowych wczesną diagnostykę noworodków lub małych dzieci. Drugim interesującym wnioskiem z dokonanej charakterystyki wybranych działań pomocowych podejmowanych względem dzieci z niepełnosprawnością w Republice Namibii jest jakże istotny wpływ afrykańskich wierzeń ludowych na ich własne życie oraz życie ich rodzin. Przytoczone w opracowaniu liczne przykłady wynikającego ze starych afrykańskich wierzeń i  przesądów, krzywdzącego traktowania dzieci z  nie- pełnosprawnością i ich rodzin, zdają się potwierdzać pogląd, że dająca o sobie znać w tym kraju, szczególnie na terenach wiejskich, dyskryminacja osób z wszelkiego ro- dzaju niepełnosprawnościami, stanowi jeden z największych problemów w działaniu organizacji dobroczynnych. Trzecim wnioskiem, jaki się nasunął w  trakcie opracowywania zebranego ma- teriału, jest mało efektywna realizacja idei kształcenia inkluzyjnego w szkolnictwie powszechnym. Mała liczba szkół oraz klas integracyjnych sprawia, że niewiele dzieci z  nieprawidłowościami w  rozwoju ma szansę na pełną integrację ze środowiskiem dzieci pełnosprawnych. Reasumując, tekst nie wyczerpuje przedstawionej tematyki, a jedynie sygnalizuje jakie formy pomocy i wsparcia dzieciom z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzicom do- stępne są w Republice Namibii. Korzystając z okazji pragniemy zwrócić się z prośbą o  ewentualne wsparcie wymienionych organizacji dobroczynnych, których dalsze funkcjonowanie zależy w  dużej mierze od życzliwości ludzi dobrej woli. Apel ten, rzadko pojawiający się w  czasopismach naukowych, podkreśla wagę upowszech- nienia informacji o  skali ubóstwa panującego w  społeczeństwie namibijskim. Ten cel przyświecał również organizatorom Międzynarodowej Konferencji Naukowej - International Association of Special Education, Uniwersytetowi Namibijskiemu oraz Pacific Lutheran University w USA. Bibliografia African Union. (2002). Plan of Action for the African Decade of People with Disabilities. Durban. Central Intelligence Agency. (2011). The World Factbook. Pobrano 9 grudnia 2012 r., z: https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/wa.html Government of the Republic of Namibia, Ministry of Lands, Resettlement and Rehabilitation. (1997). National Policy on Disability, Government of the Republic of Namibia. Windhoek. Haihambo, C. i Lightfoot, E. (2010). Cultural beliefs regarding people with disabilities https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/wa.html 152 Forum Oświatowe 1(48) Sprawozdania in Namibia: Implications for the inclusion of people with disabilities. International Journal of Special Education, 25(3), 76-87. Kahikuata-Kariko, I. L. (2011). Wystąpienie podczas 12. Biennial Conference – Educating Every Learner, Every Day: A  Global Responsibility, konferencji zor- ganizowanej przez IASE, University of Namibia, Pacific Lutheran University, Wihdhoek, Namibia. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization. (1990). The World Declaration on Education for All: Meeting Basic Learning Needs. Jomtien, Thailand. United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation. (1994). Salamanca Statement and Framework for Action on Special Needs Education. Salamanca, Spain. United Nations. (1975). The United Nations Declaration on the Rights of the Disabled, the United Nations. New York, NY. World Bank. (2007). Republic of Namibia: Addressing Binding Constraints to Stimulate Broad Based Growth: A Country Economic Report. Draft, Poverty Reduction and Economic Management, Southern Africa, Africa Region. Washington, DC. World Bank. (2009). Namibia: Country Brief. Washington: The International Bank for Reconstruction and Development. World Health Organization. (2005). Disability and Rehabilitation WHO Action Plan 2006-2011. Department of Injuries and Violence Prevention [VIP]. Pobrano 9 grudnia 2012 r., z: http://www.who.int/disabilities/publications/dar_action_ plan_2006to2011.pdf http://www.who.int/disabilities/publications/dar_action_plan_2006to2011.pdf http://www.who.int/disabilities/publications/dar_action_plan_2006to2011.pdf 153 Małgorzata Sekułowicz Wybrane formy kształcenia, rehabilitacji i wsparcia dzieci z niepełnosprawnością i ich rodzin... Selected forms of help and support for families of children with disabilities in the Republic of Namibia Abstract: The paper is dedicated to the difficult problems of support for children with disabilities and their families in Namibia. Through the description of a  socio- cultural environment, the specificity of education and integration of the children is presented. The paper contains information about the forms of support and aid orga- nizations for families of children with disabilities. Keywords: disability, education, integration, Namibia, rehabilitation, support 1. W dniach 10-14 lipca 2011 r. autorzy artykułu uczestniczyli w 12. Biennial Conference „Educating Every Learner, Every Day: A Global Responsibility” (12. Międzynarodowej Konferencji Naukowej na temat „Kształcąc każdego ucznia każdego dnia. Globalna odpowiedzialność”), zorganizowanej przez International Association of Special Education, University of Namibia oraz Pacific Lutheran University w stolicy kraju – Windhoek. 2. The Association for Children with Language, Speech and Hearing Impairments of Namibia (ClaSH), P. O. Box 24361, Windhoek, Namibia, 80, Dr Frans Indongo Street, Windhoek West, tel. +264 61 232704. Strona domowa: http://www.clash-namibia.org; e-mail: office@clash-namibia.org. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 3. Strona domowa: http://sandrahollwegengl.jimdo.com. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 4. National Association for Persons concerned with Autism Spectrum Disorders, P. O. Box 5043, Windhoek, Namibia, tel. +264 61 224562, faks +26461228255. Strona domowa: http://www.autism-na- mibia.org; e-mail: autnam@iway.na. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 5. Mrs Teresa Smit, National Office of Cheshire Homes Namibia, P. O. Box 2377, Windhoek, Namibia, tel. +264 61 228403 lub +264 61 240943, faks +264 61 240944. Strona domowa: http://www.lcint.org; e-mail: cheshire@africaonline.com. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 6. Strona domowa: http://www.sinasra.com. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 7. Strona domowa: http://www.chain.org. Stan na dzień: 9 grudnia 2012 r. 
work_dzsxyenqjvb55dc77ju3w6d4o4	----	Sept01_Posterminaries POSTERMINARIES MRS BULLETIN/SEPTEMBER 2001 743 Ioseb Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili started it, just over a century ago. The son of a poor cobbler in a provincial back- water, his academic career ended with expulsion from a theological seminary. Undeterred, he recognized that his ambi- tions would be well served if his persona reflected one of the prominent measures of national prowess, so he moved to the center of power and changed his name to Joseph Stalin; borrowing from the Russian “stal,” or “steel.” For much of the 20th century, it was the production or control of materials that most critically defined the extent of national power. As the century dawned, steel output was the most important measure. At later times, access to “critical materials,” such as chromium, has been a matter over which wars have been fought, or at least it has determined the strategies of one or another party in the major wars. During the Cold War, one of the most important numbers sought by spies on either side was the uranium demand of their respective opponents, since that was the most direct measure of the number of atomic bombs that they planned to build. But times change: What critical material must we control now to assure national security? Materials sci- ence, like dentistry, has its own success to blame for making its original role obso- lete: For us, our loss in the arena of realpolitik comes because no material is as critical as steel, chromium, rubber, or molybdenum once were. Now we have an almost wonderful ability to substitute for materials once used uniquely, as well as such sophisticated though lifeless measures of power as Gross National Product instead of steel production. Ask any teenager the meaning of “gross.” But the history of the 20th century was largely determined by national needs for materials, so you might expect to find some materials scientists prominent among the world leaders of the time, right? It’s a pretty sorry history if you have any pride in your discipline. Herbert Hoover was a member of the Mining and Metallurgy Society of America, a fore-runner of AIME, before he became president of the United States of America. He was a scholar and a gen- tleman, widely traveled, and broadly enough educated to translate (with the help of his wife) the earliest known Leadership Material Margaret Thatcher, the one-time “iron lady” of British politics, arguably has real credentials in materials, . beyond her nickname . . . FREE online Web access in 2001 with all print subscriptions! As the Joumal of Materials Research (JMR) celebrates 16 years, it has become one of the world’s premier archival publications on advanced materials research. More specifically, JMR is ... � Devoted to original research encompassing all aspects of materials science � Edited by renowned materials scientists from the world’s most respected research facilities � Produced to the highest quality standards Published monthly (over 4000 technical pages annually), JMR contains archival papers, rapid communications and reviews. It is comprehensive in nature, and over the past 16 years has addressed more than 150 different topics including: metals; semiconductors; superconductors; ceramics; dielectrics; electronic and magnetic materials; polymers; fullerenes; diamonds; adhesives; thin films; composites; nanostructures; and materials synthesis, growth and characterization, as well as their chemical, physical and mechanical properties. Articles are posted electronically and are available for viewing approximately 4-6 weeks before the print issue is received in the mail. So subscribers enjoy both the convenience of early online access to leading-edge materials research and the continued benefit of a high-quality print publication. Journal of Materials Research—more than ever, the archival front-runner in international materials research. Materials Research Society Tel 724-779-3003 506 Keystone Drive Fax 724-779-8313 Warrendale, PA 15086-7573 info@mrs.org USA www.mrs.org Print ISSN: 0884-2914 Coden: JMREE 2001 Subscription Rates: Nonmembers MRS Members $785 USA $ 90 USA $815 Non-US (surface) $110 Non-US (surface) $870 Non-US (air freight) $180 Non-US (air freight) And now, all print subscriptions to the 2001 edition of JMR include FREE online Web access—full text of all JMR articles from January 1996 to the current issue. www.mrs.org/publications/bulletin https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs2001.202 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs2001.202 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms POSTERMINARIES 744 MRS BULLETIN/SEPTEMBER 2001 metallurgical textbook, Agricola’s De Re Metallica from its original Latin. (You can still obtain a copy of Hoover’s translation, with facsimiles of the original figures, from Dover Publications in New York.) For all his learning and prominence in the field of metallurgy, though, Hoover was not one of the most distinguished residents of the White House. He is remembered mostly for leading the U.S. into the great depression and selfishly insisting upon affixing his own name to the greatest public-works project of his time, a dam on the Colorado River. Leonid Brezhnev was not born into such a privileged life as Hoover, but he was the Soviet leader from 1964 to 1972. One of six workers’ children among 45 students in his school, he liked math best, but only did average work, generally speaking, and notably poorly in foreign languages. One of his earliest jobs was as a laborer in a steelworks, and through part-time schooling he eventually gradu- ated from the Arsenich Metallurgical Institute in Dneprodzerzhinsk, after pre- senting a thesis on “The Design of Electrostatic Cleaning of Furnace Gas in the F.E. Dzerzhinsk Factory.” Take note, please, of the industrial bent of his research topic, and his determination and quite striking ability to overcome a lack- luster academic record: He eventually served as director of the Dneproderzhinsk Metallurgical Technical College. Aca- demic politics must have prepared him well for his time in the Kremlin. Or maybe vice versa. Aleksei Nikolaievich Kosygin, who shared power with Brezhnev in the com- plicated Communist Party hierarchy, studied at the Leningrad Textile Institute in 1930. He would not have been recog- nized as a materials scientist at the time, and all of us have probably suffered from the problem of being mistaken for some kind of textile engineer when we have announced our profession at a cocktail party. These days, though, textile engi- neering is moving in from the fringe of materials science to the center of some of its activities, notably in the area of fiber- reinforced composites, so perhaps we can consider Kosygin to have been a man ahead of his time, and include him in the minuscule panoply of world leaders who have started out as materials scientists. Jimmy Carter, the 39th president of the United States, would never have claimed to be a materials scientist, but occasional- ly tried to belie his characterization as a simple peanut farmer by claiming the title of “nuclear engineer,” based upon his service in the U.S. Navy. Since MRS has a long-running tradition of technical programming in the area of nuclear waste management, maybe we can stretch a point and include Mr. Carter as an adjunct materials scientist, in the inter- est of boosting our numbers on the world stage. Sadly, his was not a very distin- guished presidency, either, ending in dis- array with American embassy staff held hostage in Tehran, so it does little to redeem the reputation of our subject on the world stage. On the positive side, however, like many U.S. presidents after Hoover, Carter is better regarded in retirement than he ever was in office, so perhaps this is a group we should try to identify with a little more. Margaret Thatcher, the one-time “iron lady” of British politics, arguably has real creden- tials in materials, beyond her nickname, having worked as an industrial research chemist, once publishing a paper on Langmuir–Blodgett films. Named in her honor, too, is a professorship in the Department of Materials and Interfaces at the Weizmann Institute of Science in Israel. It is not clear whether all of this actually justified the Royal Society in bestowing a fellowship upon her “for ser- vices to British science,” but at least she stands as an undeniable example of strong leadership. Let’s face facts. If we are trying to por- tray the study of materials as a means of preparation for a life of political leader- ship, we have precious few examples to point to, and most of those are not all that attractive. This is despite the fact that our work teaches us to compromise over con- flicting demands (for properties), and even to create coalitions (or composites, in our case) that bring together the best properties of disparate factions (or mate- rials). I don’t see any cure in sight: The researcher “scholar and gentleman,” once personified by Hoover, has long since been supplanted as the predominant per- sona among materials scientists by the “geek.” Just look around your lab and you will see what I mean. Can you imag- ine any of your colleagues having any real political appeal in an election cam- paign? I think we should not expect to find too many grassroots MRS members getting elected to high office anywhere in the world very soon. However, the real power in a complex modern state lies not so much with the figurehead as with the people who sur- round and advise him or her. MRS Von Hippel Award recipient Sir Alan Cottrell has filled the role of chief scientific advi- sor to the British government with some distinction. Donald Evans now serves as Secretary of Commerce in the Washington administration of George Bush the Second: not so much a leader as a techni- cian within the government. Evans is business-trained, like his leader, but also holds a degree in mechanical engineering and has, like Brezhnev, worked in a steel mill, which must count for something. Another Bush cabinet member is Treasury Secretary Paul O’Neill, who was chair and CEO of Alcoa from 1987 to 1999, and retired as chair at the end of 2000, just in time to join the new administration. Prior to joining Alcoa, O’Neill was president of the International Paper Company from 1985 to 1987, where he was also a vice president from 1977 to 1985. He may only be a businessman with degrees in eco- nomics and public administration, but his success at making money out of materials has been used as a case study by the Harvard Business School. So it appears inevitable that for the next generation or so, at least, materials professionals will wield power not through elected office, but through appointment to advisory roles in the world’s governments. And what is the record of success in this role? Only one critical review stands out. U.S. Senator Edmund Muskie wished for a one-armed scientist to advise him, who would not qualify his advice with “on the other hand....” So those of you who would go into this strange form of leadership take heed: Political decisions are made out of single recommendations, not lists of options. Give your elected officials a clear message, and don’t confuse them with counter-arguments or alternatives. If they were bright enough to distinguish between all of the options, they would be scientists, not politicians, after all, or at least they wouldn’t need you to advise them. It was Ralph Waldo Emerson who noted the little-mindedness of politicians, long before the 20th century dawned, and observed how their thinking was hobbled with the need for “foolish con- sistency.” The influence of materials on the world stage may have come and gone, but the character of the politician remains the same. ALEX KING [M]aterials professionals will wield power not through elected office, but through appointment to advisory roles in the world’s governments. www.mrs.org/publications/bulletin https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs2001.202 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs2001.202 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 
work_e2m3ynwkarb7bj2iihimpqhmbu	----	Page 1 of 6 Imagine UBC Pep Rally September 4, 2012 Professor Stephen Toope President and Vice-Chancellor The University of British Columbia How many people would say that they are having a great first day at UBC? How many think that they have chosen the best university in Canada? How many think their faculty or program is better than any other? Well I am glad you feel that way, and I think you are in for many wonderful experiences during your time here. But in order for that to occur, you’re going to have to put your imaginations to work. Imagine truly is a perfect theme for a day like this. I hope that the word itself is an inspiring call to action. The other reason I like Imagine as a theme is that its meaning in the context of this day is appropriately subject to interpretation. The way I see it, to imagine…is to be original. Imagine UBC Vancouver 4 September 2012 Page 2 of 6 With that interpretation as a premise, I want to share some simple ideas concerning the importance of originality, of becoming a skilled and independent free thinker, which many contend is the single most important objective of an undergraduate university experience. Sounds simple enough, but finding originality and thinking for yourself is a process. It’s a process that begins with a willingness to be open- minded to varying points of view, followed by a careful analysis of the evidence offered in support of each one. The final step in the process is to draw your own conclusions based on what you have determined to be the most compelling evidence to support your views. It’s the opposite of sub-consciously conforming to “conventional wisdom” or popular opinion. If at some point you study American literature, you may come across the writing of the 19th century transcendentalist philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Imagine UBC Vancouver 4 September 2012 Page 3 of 6 In a famous essay appropriately titled, On Self Reliance, Emerson implores the reader to resist conformity with the words: “Insist on yourself; never imitate.” But even if you don’t ever read Emerson, chances are a parent or a relative has already offered the same advice in similarly blunt terms. “Be a leader, not a sheep.” “You came into this world an original; don’t leave it a copy.” Now I’ll admit that remaining an original can perhaps be challenging in an era in which pop culture is pervasive. Everywhere we go we are reminded of a world seemingly bent on conformity – conformity to clothing styles, conformity to a narrow range of popular music, or to certain verbal expressions. As an example, consider the drastic overuse - and misuse - of the word, “awesome.” There was a time when it was a highly useful and expressive term, one selectively used only to describe things that elicited slack-jawed amazement. Sadly, its meaning has become Imagine UBC Vancouver 4 September 2012 Page 4 of 6 distorted. It’s fallen victim to sub-conscious conformity - the antithesis of free-thinking originality. So here’s an idea. Whenever you hear the word casually used to describe things that aren’t even vaguely “awesome,” let that be a reminder to you about how one of your principle objectives during your time here is to strive for originality – originality in your thoughts and in the manner in which you express them. I have three recommendations for how you can refine these skills. The first is to leave your comfort zone. Seek the discomfort of new experiences. You’ll never have a better opportunity to try things you’ve never done before than here at UBC. Take a course in an unfamiliar subject; try a new sport; volunteer for a new cause; consider community or international service learning opportunities; sign up for co-op or mentorship programs; join a campus club, or explore the fine arts. The possibilities are infinite. Imagine UBC Vancouver 4 September 2012 Page 5 of 6 The second recommendation is to interact with the widest possible range of people, and do it in a direct and respectful give-and-take manner. Facebook is a wonderful tool, but it can never be a substitute for face-to-face engagement. For that matter, consider more talking and less texting. Become friends with somebody from a completely different country and culture than your own. Resist the natural urge to associate primarily with people from your home town, from your program or from your residence. You may not know it, but in many cases the connections you make in the days ahead will become important lifelong relationships, so ensure that your network is large and diverse. Third, and I cannot emphasize this enough; strive to become an effective communicator. Remember that one of the essential aspects of being an original and skilled independent thinker is the ability to articulately express both your thoughts and the rationale that supports your views. Not only that, but learning to communicate effectively in both written and verbal Imagine UBC Vancouver 4 September 2012 Page 6 of 6 exchanges will be of paramount importance in every future endeavour you undertake – personal and professional. Finally, a solemn assurance: at UBC, undergraduate students matter. Your success and fulfillment matters to me personally. It matters to your professors personally, and it matters personally to the staff members and student volunteers who have arranged this wonderful day called Imagine. With that in mind, I sincerely hope that you take advantage of the many rich opportunities before you, and that you will consider these recommendations to seek new experiences, to open your minds to diverse perspectives, to hone your communication skills and… To imagine…and to remain…an original. Best wishes to you all, and welcome to UBC! It’s awesome! 
work_ebfwn6iajbhfhl4fbxfmtvcv2y	----	Association News ence in 1974 ("Doing Before Know- ing: Concept Development in Polit- ical Research"). Drawing very much on the notions adumbrated by Abraham Kaplan, Jones argues the necessity for working out conceptual- ization of a research problem at the stage of the design of the study. Classification can take on three dis- tinct purposes—for general under- standing, to order research expecta- tions, and to sort out empirical results. His argument runs as follows: The first is classification for general understanding—ordering a universe of discourse with a set of concepts so as to state one's own best understanding of that subject matter and be able to communicate with others about it. We do this whenever we write about a subject, whether we intend to do research about it or not. The second is classification of research expecta- tions—projecting what is to be found. The concepts used here may be iden- tical with or logically derived from the preceding, and aid one in designing a specific research project. The third is classification of empirical findings— ordering findings so as to add to, modify, or reject the expectations. . . . Jones's research corpus strongly reflects this straightforward set of intellectual practices, this process of "doing before knowing." Epilogue I often think about my friend Chuck Jones. Over the years, I have gotten his books, received offprints of his articles from him, and read each publication as it came into print. Still, I never before this read the scholarly productivity of his entire career in one swoop. My admiration for my friend as a fellow political scientist has grown with this experience, though I always held his research in very high esteem. Still, in the end it is my personal relationship with Chuck Jones that counts the most. A friend is a prec- ious gift. Not too many people are blessed with a close and lifetime friend. Henry Adams thought "one friend in a lifetime is much; two are many; three are hardly possible." He perceptively added, "friendship needs a certain parallelism of life, a com- munity of thought, a rivalry of aim." It may have been an accident that Chuck Jones and I came to experience parallel life experiences, but this has reinforced our lifelong friendship. " A friend," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud. . . . " Chuck Jones and I "think aloud" whenever we meet. I am proud of my friend that he has achieved eminence in our discipline so substantial as to earn him the presidency of the American Political Science Association. Washington Annual Meeting Largest Ever The 89th Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Associa- tion set a new attendance record for APSA meetings, drawing 5,635 par- ticipants to the Washington Hilton. The previous record for attendance was the 1991 meeting, also in Wash- ington, which drew 5,179 people. Featured at the meeting was the Presidential Address by Lucius J. Barker, Stanford University, titled "Limits of Political Strategy: A Sys- temic View of the African-American Experience." President Barker was introduced by Jack Peltason, Presi- dent of the University of California. The James Madison Lecture was given by Sidney Verba, APSA's President-Elect; and the John Gaus APSA President Lucius Barker and Univer- sity of California President Jack Peltason. President Barker and President-Elect Jones with Health and Human Services Secretary Donna Shalala. Lecture was presented by Francis E. Rourke, Johns Hopkins University. Barker's address will appear in the March 1994 issue of APSR and Verba's and Rourke's are featured in this issue of PS. The meeting also included two experimental activities—Poster Ses- sions and Hyde Park Sessions. The former were display presentations in which key elements of papers were posted, and presenters stood by to discuss them individually with view- ers; the latter were open assemblies guided by a chairperson addressing timely political topics. Attendance at both formats was strong—the Hyde Park sessions in particular were attractive, drawing 24 participants to the discussion on humanitarian inter- vention in Bosnia and Somalia led by Miles Kahler, University of Cali- fornia, San Diego, and 52 to Gays in the Military—What Is to be Done, led by Theodore Lowi, Cornell Uni- versity. APSA was also able to dis- tribute a large block of tickets to members, on a first-come-first-served basis, to visit the newly opened Holocaust Museum during the meeting. The meeting was co-organized by Peter Gourevitch, University of Cali- fornia, San Diego, and Paula McClain, University of Virginia, and a 42-member program committee, 828 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News Sidney Verba delivers the James Madison lecture. who focused the meeting around the theme: the politics of identity. The meeting included 544 regular panels, about the same as last year and sig- nificantly more than the previous year when meeting rooms in neigh- boring hotels were unavailable to us. Four hundred forty-three panels were offered as part of the APSA pro- gram, seven by APSA committees, and 92 by related groups such as the Claremont Institute and the Gay and Lesbian Political Science Caucus. Average panel attendance, 35 peo- ple per panel, was significantly higher than previous meetings, even accounting for this year's high over- all attendance. Last year's attendance was 28 per panel, and the year before was 31. The most heavily attended panel was a roundtable on Ideas and Foreign Policy: The State of Study chaired by Judith Goldstein of Stan- ford University. The participants in this panel, and all other panels with at least 100 participants, are listed separately here. The most heavily attended panel at which papers were presented was The Return of Naturalism, chaired by Arlene Saxonhouse, University of Michigan. The list of heavily attended panels is a striking reflection of the breadth and diversity of interest in the pro- fession—covering foreign policy, international relations, democratic citizenship, third parties in U.S. poli- tics, rational choice, Allan Bloom, and Hannah Arendt, among many The APSA Book Exhibit—the largest such exhibit in the world. Members of the delegation from the Japanese Political Science Association. other subjects. The participation of women in these leading panels also stands out—women comprise 23 per- cent of these panel participants and organizers. By comparison, women are 19 percent of all faculty, and 10 percent of faculty holding senior rank. Other notable activities at the meeting were the honoring of faculty who have received campus-wide teaching awards at their home insti- tutions. Nineteen panels at the meet- ing were also identified as focusing on teaching in political science. Pre- meeting activities included workshops for department chairs on good prac- tice to advance professional ethics, on assessment programs, and on identifying and evaluating faculty roles and responsibilities. Eleven short courses for political scientists were offered before the meeting by APSA's Organized Sections. These covered topics from Intellectual Challenges to the Parties after 1992 to Teaching about Security in a Changing World. Five foreign scholars received APSA travel grants to attend the Officers and members of the Transforma- tional Politics Section honor Jeff Fishel (far left). meeting, joined by 16 scholars travel- ing on USIA funds and 34 graduate students funded by APSA, the Asia Foundation, and the Huang Hsing Foundation. The Japanese Political Science Association also held a joint panel at the meeting. Several events also featured graduate student par- ticipation at the meeting, including the Leading Scholars Series presenta- tion offered by Richard F. Fenno, Jr., and the well-attended annual Graduate Student Reception. Most Heavily Attended Roundtables and Panels at the 1993 APSA Annual Meeting Roundtable on Ideas and Foreign Policy: The State of Study Chair: Judith Goldstein, Stanford University Participants: Judith Goldstein, Stan- ford University; Peter M. Haas, Uni- versity of Massachusetts-Amherst; Friedrich V. Kratochwil, University Officers of the Gay and Lesbian Caucus, Joan Tronto (L) and Robert Baily (R). December 1993 829 Association News of Pennsylvania; Richard N. Lebow, University of Pittsburgh; Geoffrey M. Garrett, Stanford University; Kathryn A. Sikkink, University of Minnesota. Discussants: Stephen D. Krasner, Stanford University; Robert O. Keohane, Harvard University Identity and International Relations: Civilizations in Conflict? Chair: Fareed Zakaria, Foreign Affairs Participants: Samuel Huntington, Harvard University; Stephen M. Walt, University of Chicago; Michael W. Doyle, Princeton University; *ohn G. Ruggie, Columbia University Destructive Generation? Roundtable on the Legacy of the 1960s and Its Impact on Liberal Democratic Citizenship Chair: Stephen Macedo, Harvard University Participants: Harvey C. Mansfield, Jr., Harvard University; Martha Nussbaum, Brown University; Cass R. Sunstein, University of Chicago; Sheldon S. Wolin In Memoriam: The Political Thought of Judith N. Shklar Participants: Michael Walzer, Prince- ton University; Amy Gutmann, Princeton University; Nancy L. Rosenblum, Brown University; Seyla Benhabib, New School for Social Research; Patrick Riley, University of Wisconsin-Madison; Bruce Acker- man, Yale University Roundtable on Third Parties in American Politics: Obstacles and Opportunities Chair: Joel Rogers, University of Wisconsin Participants: Walter Dean Burnham, University of Texas-Austin; Theo- dore J. Lowi, Cornell University; Ralph Nader, Esq., Center for Study of Responsive Law; Steven J. Rosen- stone, University of Michigan; Jerry G. Watts, Trinity College; Linda Faye Williams, University of Maryland The Causes and Consequences of Divided and Unified Government: A Roundtable Chair: Charles O. Jones, University of Wisconsin-Madison Participants: Morris Fiorina, Har- vard University; Gary C. Jacobson, University of California-San Diego; David R. Mayhew, Yale University Roundtable on International Relations Theory and Contemporary International Relations Chair: Miles Kahler, University of California-San Diego Participants: Judith Goldstein, Stan- ford University; Joanne Gowa, Princeton University; Robert Powell, University of California-Berkeley; Janice Gross Stein, University of Toronto The Return of Naturalism Chair: Arlene W. Saxonhouse, Uni- versity of Michigan Papers: "From Method to Sub- stance: Human Nature and Natural- ism in Political Theory," Roger D. Masters, Dartmouth College; "The Impact of Scientific Realism on the Human Sciences," Ian Shapiro and Alexander Wendt, Yale University. Discussants: Richard Rorty, Univer- sity of Virginia; Richard Miller, Cor- nell University Cultural Differences and Democratic Justice Chair: Joseph H. Carens, University of Toronto Participants: Amy Gutmann, Prince- ton University; Michael Walzer, Princeton University; Will Kymlicka, University of Western Ontario; Mary Ellen Turpel, Dalhousie Law School; Joseph H . Carens, University of Toronto Roundtable: Theda SkocpoVs "Protecting Soldiers and Mothers" (Winner of the 1993 Woodrow Wilson Book Award) Participants: Theda Skocpol, Har- vard University; Russell L. Hanson, Indiana University; Ira Katznelson, New School for Social Research; Sonia Michel, University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign; Deborah Stone, Brandeis University What Is Philosophy: Rationalism, Noesis, Mysticism? The Strauss-Voegelin Debate— Roundtable I Chair: Barry Cooper, University of Calgary Participants: James L. Wiser, Loyola University Chicago; Ernest L. Fortin, Boston College; Daniel Mahoney, Assumption College; Juergen Geb- hardt, University of Erlangen-Nuern- berg; John Von Keyking, University of Calgary; Walter J. Thompson, University of Notre Dame In Memory of Allan Bloom: Politics and the Great Literary Tradition Chair: Thomas L. Pangle, University of Toronto Papers: "The Learned Theban: Philosophy and Nature in 'King Lear,' " Paul Cantor, The University of Virginia; "Politics, Poetry and Prophecy in 'Don Quixote,' " Henry Higuera, St. John's College; "Goethe," Werner J. Dannhauser, Michigan State University Rational Choice Models and Empirical Evidence Chair: Keith Krehbiel, Stanford University Papers: "Empirical Tests of Rational Choice Theory: A Critical Assess- ment," Donald Green and Ian Shapiro, Yale University; " A Dynamic Model of Loss, Retirement and Tenure in the U.S. House of Representatives," John B. Gilmour and Paul Rothstein, Washington University; " A New Paradox of Vote Aggregation," Steven J. Brams, New York University, D. Marc Kilgour, Wilfrid Laurier University, William S. Zwicker, Union College; "Envi- ronmentally Induced Equilibria," Carol Mock, University of Illinois. Discussants: Daniel Diermeier, Uni- versity of Rochester; Keith Krehbiel, Stanford University A Roundtable on Congressional Reform: The Members' Perspectives Chair: Steven S. Smith, University of Minnesota Participants: David L. Boren, U.S. Senate; Pete Domenici, U.S. Senate; David Dreier, U.S. House of Repre- 830 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News sentatives; Lee H. Hamilton, U.S. House of Representatives Roundtable on Bill Clinton: First Appraisals of Foreign Policy and the Foreign Policy Process Chair: Bert A. Rockman, University of Pittsburgh Participants: Herbert Dittgen, Georg- August Universitaet; Fred I. Green- stein, Princeton University; Thomas E. Mann, The Brookings Institution; Pietro S. Nivola, The Brookings Institution; Robert D. Putnam, Harvard University Feminist Perspectives on Hannah Arendt Chair: Kirstie M. McClure, Johns Hopkins University Papers: "Post-Colonial Orders: From Africa to Little Rock," Anne Norton, University of Texas-Austin; "Language and the Body in Arendt and Kristeva," Linda Zerilli, Rutgers University; "The Pariah and Her Shadow: On the Invisibility of Women in Hannah Arendt's Political Philosophy," Seyla Benhabib, New School for Social Research. Dis- cussants: Lisa Disch, University of Minnesota; Bonnie Honig, Harvard University Association Distributes Annual Awards Dissertations submitted by the University of California, Berkeley, won two of eight dissertation awards presented at the Awards Ceremony at the Annual Meeting September 2. James D. Fearon, now at the Univer- sity of Chicago, was presented the Helen Dwight Reid Award in the field of international relations, law and politics; Meta Mendel-Reyes, currently at Swarthmore College, was the recipient of the Leo Strauss Award in the field of political philosophy. Kenneth Waltz and Hanna Pitkin were the respective dissertation chairs. Other dissertation winners were Daniel M. Green, Indiana University, the Gabriel A. Almond Award in the field of comparative politics, Patrick O'Meara of Indiana University dis- sertation chair; Grant D. Reeher, Theda Skocpol (R) receives the Woodrow Wilson Foundation Award from Charles Hamilton (L). Syracuse University, the William Anderson Award in the field of state and local politics, federalism or inter- governmental relations, David Mayhew of Yale University disser- tation chair; Andrew Koppelman, Princeton University, the Edward S. Corwin Award in the field of public law, Bruce Ackerman of Yale Uni- versity dissertation chair; Scott Sig- mund Gartner, University of Mich- igan, and Mark C. Rom, University of Wisconsin-Madison, the Harold D. Lasswell Award in the field of policy studies, Robert Axelrod and Kenneth N. Waltz dissertation chairs respectively; David King, Harvard University, the E. E. Schattschneider Award in the field of American gov- ernment and politics, Richard Hall and John Kingdon of the University Barbara Geddes awards John D. Huber the Heinz Eulau Award. of Michigan dissertation chairs; James Anthony Falk, University of Georgia, the Leonard D. White Award in the field of public admin- istration, Jerome S. Legge, Jr., Uni- versity of Georgia dissertation chair. John D. Huber, University of Michigan, was the recipient of the Heinz Eulau Award for the best arti- cle published in The American Polit- ical Science Review during 1991. George Tsebelis, University of Cali- fornia, Los Angeles, was presented the Franklin L. Burdette Pi Sigma Alpha Award for the best paper pre- sented at the 1992 Annual Meeting. Book Award winners included Rodney E. Hero, University of Colo- rado, Boulder, who won the Ralph Virginia Sapiro (L) receives the Victoria Schuck Award from Roberta Sigel (R). Rodney Hero, the 1993 Ralph Bunche Award winner. December 1993 831 
work_eep7vspntreklkwr6szyrywkei	----	untitled 0 7 4 0 - 7 4 5 9 / 0 5 / $ 2 0 . 0 0 © 2 0 0 5 I E E E J u l y / A u g u s t 2 0 0 5 I E E E S O F T W A R E 9 tools of the trade E d i t o r : D i o m i d i s S p i n e l l i s ■ A t h e n s U n i v e r s i t y o f E c o n o m i c s a n d B u s i n e s s ■ d d s @ a u e b . g r I n 1994, Shyam Chidamber and Chris Ke- merer defined a set of six simple metrics for object-oriented programs. Although this number swelled to above 300 in the years that followed, I had a case where I pre- ferred to use the original classic metrics for clarity, consistency, and simplicity. Surprisingly, none of the six open source tools I found for col- lecting metrics fit the bill. Most calculated only a subset of the metrics, had specific dependen- cies on other software, required tweaking to make them compile, or were horrendously inefficient. Although none of the tools cor- rectly calculated the classic Chi- damber and Kemerer metrics in a straightforward way most in- cluded numerous bells and whis- tles, such as graphical interfaces, XML output, and bindings to tools such as Ant and Eclipse. As an experiment, I decided to create a tool to fit my needs. In the process, I discovered something important: writing stand-alone tools that you can combine efficiently with others to handle more demanding tasks appears to be be- coming a forgotten art. Going the Unix way For my design ideal, I chose the filter inter- face found in most Unix-based tools. Unix tools are built following a set of simple design princi- ples (see Brian W. Kernighan and Rob Pike’s The Unix Programming Environment [Prentice Hall, 1984] and Eric Raymond’s The Art of Unix Pro- gramming [Addison-Wesley, 2003]): ■ Each tool is each responsible for doing a single job well. ■ Functionality should be placed where it will do the most good. ■ Tools generate textual output that other tools can use—for example, the program output won’t contain decorative headers and trailing information. ■ Tools can accept input generated by other tools. ■ The tools are capable of performing stand- alone execution, without user intervention. Tried and true In general, these principles are easy to adopt. The 1979, Seventh Edition Unix cat command is only 62 lines long; the corresponding echo command is just 22 lines long. Despite their Spar- tan implementation, tools designed following these principles easily become perennial classics, which we can combine with others in powerful ways. For example, you can still use the 9-line, 30-year-old version of the Sixth Edition Unix echo command as a drop-in replacement in 5,705 places in the 2005 version of the FreeBSD operating system source code. You’d need the 26- year-old, slightly more powerful Seventh Edition version in another 249 instances. Nowadays, a suite of Unix tools is also widely available in open source implementations for systems such as Linux, Windows, BSD, and Mac OS X. Tool Writing: A Forgotten Art? Diomidis Spinellis Merely adding features does not make it easier for users to do things—it just makes the manual thicker. The right solution in the right place is always more effective than hap- hazard hacking. —Brian W. Kernighan and Rob Pike 1 0 I E E E S O F T W A R E w w w . c o m p u t e r . o r g / s o f t w a r e TOOLS OF THE TRADE Something new I created my metric tool, named ckjm (Chidamber and Kemerer Java Metrics), using the design principles I outlined ear- lier (see www.spinellis.gr/sw/ckjm). The tool operates on a list of compiled Java classes (or pairs consisting of an archive name followed by a Java class) specified as arguments or read from its standard input. It then prints to its standard out- put a single line for each class, contain- ing the class name and the six metrics’ values. This design lets you use pipelines and external tools to select the classes to process or to format the output (have a look at the tool’s Web site for specific ex- amples). Given ckjm’s simplicity and minimal features (for example, I ignored irrelevant interfacing requirements), I wasn’t surprised to find it both more sta- ble and more efficient than the other tools I’d tried. Temptation calls A month after I put the tool on the Web, I received an email from a brilliant young Dutch programmer. He’d en- hanced my tool, integrating it with the Ant Java-based build tool and adding an XML output option. He’d also provided a couple of XSL (Extensible Style Sheet Language) scripts that transformed the XML output into nicely set HTML. Al- though the code was well written and the new facilities appeared alluring, my ini- tial reply wasn’t exactly welcoming. The perils of tool-specific integration Integrating ckjm with Ant sounds like a good idea until you consider the dependencies this type of integration creates. With the proposed enhance- ments, the tool’s source code imports six different Ant classes, creating a de- pendency between one general-purpose tool and another. What would happen if we also integrated ckjm with Eclipse and a third graphics-drawing software package? Through these dependencies, ckjm would become highly unstable: any interface change in any of the three tools would require a change in ckjm. The functionality provided by the im- ported Ant classes is certainly useful; it gives us a general- ized and portable way to specify sets of files. However, providing it in one tool violates the principle of adding functionality where it would do the most good. Many other tools would benefit from this facility, so it makes sense to put Ant’s Directory- Scanner class into a more general tool or facility. Ant interfaces usually provide ser- vices for performing tasks that most modern operating systems already sup- port as general-pur- pose abstractions. These abstractions include a process’s execution, specifica- tion of its arguments, and redirection of its output. Creating a different, incom- patible interface for these facilities is not only gratuitous, it also relegates venera- ble tools developed over the last 30 years to second-class citizens. This approach simply doesn’t scale. We can’t require each tool to support every other tool’s peculiar interfaces, especially when there are existing conventions and interfaces that have withstood the test of time. We gain a lot if the tools we implement—no matter if we implement them in C, Java, C#, or Pearl—follow the conventions and principles I outlined earlier. The problems of XML output Adapting a tool for XML output is less troublesome because XML solves some real problems. Unix tools’ typeless, textual output can become a source of er- rors. If a tool’s output format changes, tools further down the pipeline will con- tinue to happily accept and process their input assuming that it follows the earlier format. We’ll only realize that something is amiss if we see that the final results don’t match our expectations. Addition- ally, we can represent only so much using space-separated fields and line-oriented records. XML lets us represent more complex data structures in a generalized and portable way. XML also lets us use powerful, general-purpose verification, data query, and data manipulation tools. However, because XML intermixes data with metadata and abandons the simple, textual, line-oriented format, it shuts out most tools in a Unix program- mer’s tool bench. XSL transformations might be powerful, but because they’re implemented within monolithic all-en- compassing tools, any nonsupported op- eration becomes exceedingly difficult to implement. Using Unix tools, if we want to perform a topological sort on our data to order a list of dependencies, tsort lets us do exactly that; if we want to spell check a tool’s output, we can eas- ily do it by adding the appropriate com- mands to our pipeline. Moreover, the implementation of XML-based operations appears to be or- ders of magnitude more verbose than the corresponding Unix commands. As an Call for participation 13th IEEE Int. Requirements Engineering Conference http://www.re05.org August 29th – September 2nd 2005, Paris, La Sorbonne, France Engineering Successful Products Steering Committee Chair: Roel Wieringa U. Twente, Netherlands General Chair: Colette Rolland U. Paris 1-Panthéon Sorbonne, France Program Chair: Joanne Atlee U. of Waterloo, Canada RE’05 will emphasize the crucial role that requirements play in the successful development and delivery of systems, products, and services. Technical and Industrial program: The main conference will run from August 31 to September 2 and will feature parallel sessions of technical papers, mini-tutorials, and research-tool demonstrations. Workshops, Tutorials and a Doctoral Symposium will be held August 29-30. The list of the twelve workshops and nine tutorials is available at the RE’05 web site : http://www.re05.org/ Deadlines for workshop papers range from end of May to mid-June. See the conference web site for details. Keynote speakers: Jean-Pierre Corniou, CIO at Renault, author of “The Knowledge Society”, Hermès, 2002, 1999 IT Manager of the Year award from the French press, president of the CIGREF (Club Informatique des Grandes Entreprises Françaises) Daniel Jackson, Professor of Computer Science at MIT, Chair of The National Academies study on “Sufficient Evidence? Building Certifiably Dependable Systems” Suzanne Robertson, Independent consultent, author of ‘Mastering the Requirement Process’ (Addison-Wesley, 1999) and Requirement-Led project Management (Addison-Wesley, 2005), co-founder of the Atlantic Systems Guild RE’05 Organizing Committee hopes to meet you in Paris to share experiences in requirement engineering, as well as to appreciate our famous French cooking and good wine. Register at www.re05.org Early bid until July 31st 2005 TOOLS OF THE TRADE experiment, I asked an experienced col- league to rewrite an awk one-liner I used for finding Java packages with a low ab- stractness and instability value into XSL. The 13-line code snippet he wrote was certainly less cryptic and more robust than my one-liner. However, in the con- text of tools we use to simplify our everyday tasks, I consider the XSL ap- proach unsuitable. We can write a one- liner as a prototype and then gradually explore how to enhance it. Writing 13 lines of XSL isn’t a similarly lightweight task. Although adding XML output to a tool might seem enticing, it’s the first step down a slippery slope. If we did add direct XML output (ckjm’s documenta- tion already listed a 13-line sed script to transform its output into XML), why not allow the tool to write its results into a relational database via Java Database Connectivity (JDBC)—surely we’d end up with a more robust and efficient re- sult than by combining existing tools. After that, what about adding a data- base configuration interface, chart out- put, a GUI environment, a report de- signer, a scripting language, and, who knows, maybe the ability to share the re- sults over a peer-to-peer network? Realpolitik With all that said, the Ant integra- tion and XML output will be part of ckjm by the time you read these lines— probably as optional components. Ralph Waldo Emerson famously wrote that “A foolish consistency is the hob- goblin of little minds.” Spreading ideol- ogy by alienating users and restricting a tool’s appeal sounds counterproductive to me. Nevertheless, the next time you ask for tighter integration or a richer I/O format for a tool, consider if you can accomplish what you’re asking for in a more general fashion and what this new feature will cost your environment in terms of stability, interoperability, and orthogonality. Diomidis Spinellis is an associate professor in the De- partment of Management Science and Technology at the Athens University of Economics and Business and the author of Code Reading: The Open Source Perspective (Addison-Wesley, 2003). Contact him at dds@aueb.gr. ISBN 0-321-17935-8 Essentials Software Engineering ISBN 0-321-30549-3 ISBN 0-321-26797-4 ISBN 0-321-32131-6 Turn to Addison-Wesley for trusted guidance on software engineering best practices including these just published, not-to-miss titles. For details on special discounts, more recommended titles, and a sneak peek at sample chapters, visit www.awprofessional.com/ieeesoftware We’d like to hear from you SEND US EMAIL AT @computer.org 
work_ehogk4lcujfqlmac7ole3qhg4a	----	My Yale Students’ Turn: Sunzi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi as Solutions to Today's Financial Crisis Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 1877-0428 © 2013 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Selection and/or peer-review under responsibility of Beijing Forum doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2013.03.066 Selected Papers of Beijing Forum 2009 My Yale Students’ Turn: Sunzi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi as Solutions to Today’s Financial Crisis Kang-i Sun Chang Professor, Yale University Abstract A year ago my Yale colleague Harold Bloom, in his op-ed in The New York Times (entitled “Out of Panic, Self- Reliance”) pointed out the striking similarities between the financial crashes of 1837 and 1929, and also 2008. i He noted that in 1837 the great American writer Ralph Waldo Emerson was so “electrified” by the financial storms that he proposed “self-reliance” as the solution to the American people at the time. Emerson felt that his generation was “bankrupt of principles and hope, as of property” and so he hoped that all Americans would use the chance to recover their traditional value of self-reliance. Seeing a recurrence of the great depression in 2008, Bloom strongly urged today’s new American president to find a similar solution to the economic crisis. My Yale students, however, do not believe that Emerson, the 19 th In my course on Sunzi, Laozi, and Zhuangzi last semester, our main topic of discussion naturally focused on the applicability of these ancient Chinese thoughts to modern issues. Coincidentally the students in my class fall into 3 groups: (1) those who apply Sunzi’s pragmatic military advice to today’s economic issues, (2) those who believe in Zhuangzi’s idealistic Daoism and prefer a solution that is beyond the immediate, and (3) those who mediate between the first two positions, while drawing their ideas largely from Laozi. century Concord philosopher, has the solution for our financial crisis in today’s global age. Instead, my students look to the Eastern civilization for guidance, thinking that it is time for the West to learn from the intuitive mind of the East. It is the purpose of this paper to sum up how my Yale students, in these three different (but complementary) groups, applied the ancient Chinese philosophers and their texts to a diverse range of contemporary issues--especially as a response to today’s financial crisis. © 2012 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Selection and/or peer-review under responsibility of Beijing Forum. 1. The Sunzi solution Learning from Sunzi has become a fashion in today’s business world in America. ii While Caulfield's writing may have moved from a D- to a solid C, I think he still misses the fundamental genius of Steve Jobs. It’s all about strategy. Not marketing as the press and its conventional In one of the readers’ comments for Brian Caulfield’s recent article, “Apple’s New Era” (which appeared in Forbes, April 28, 2009), a Major Web user referred to Sunzi as a best guidance for today’s business world: Available online at www.sciencedirect.com © 2013 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Selection and/or peer-review under responsibility of Beijing Forum http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ 103 Kang-i Sun Chang / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 misunderstanding and how they would define it, but as Sun Tzu would define strategy. Marketing is about taking the correct position on the battlefield.iii It turns out that some of my students also share the view of treating Sunzi’s The Art of War as a practical business manual. For example, Peter Wong (who majors in economics) went so far as to propose that Sunzi should be included in the American Business School’s core curriculum. He commented in his paper, entitled “MBA 101: Sun Tzu’s The Art of War”: A famous Chinese idiom states: ; today, the phrase is widely accepted and used in the media, in business and in the academic world. The rationale and idea behind the two quotes are the same; both war and business are competitive and cruel, and are closely related. . . Sun Tzu proffers advice to military generals on how to win a battle in an atypical and indirect way. In a war there are countless variants, strategies and tactics between the direct method and the indirect method. In the business world, where firms compete against each other fiercely, business managers have to devise creative strategies and tactics to outperform their counterparts. Sun Tzu’s phrase , has been popularized and became a hallmark of successful business strategies.” iv My students have spent some time contemplating the reasons as to why Sunzi--rather than the “equally venerable Chinese authors such as Laozi and Zhuangzi” --has risen “to a position of prominence in today’s Western lexicon” in recent years. v Obviously Sunzi’s military strategy is somewhat relevant to today’s financial issues, but I think Sunzi’s creative uses of vivid natural images--such as water and fire-- have the effect of allowing the modern reader to understand his discourse in a rather comprehensive way and can thus easily adopt it in real situations. Thus, several of my students have written about Sunzi’s uses of water and fire images in their papers. For example, Peter Wong discusses how the uses of the fire imagery in The Art of War make Sunzi’s discourse “directly relevant to the reader’s perspective.” vi Ben Jacobs: “Sunzi’s use of water parallels his pragmatism throughout Art of War, employing the substance as a military metaphor for its material qualities. The passage cited above is a particularly instructive example of such usage. His opening lines immediately establish the significance of water only in its measurable benefits, namely avoiding heights (i.e. military strength) in favor of lowlands (military weakness). His matter-of-fact tone is even clearer in the original Chinese: ‘ ’. . .” And both Ben Jacobs and Nick Huang have commented on Sunzi’s effective uses of the water imagery: vii Nick Huang: “ The most prominent images used are that of water: an attacking force should move like swift currents that are powerful enough to dislodge and float rocks ( ). Another image is that of un-dammed waters bursting into a chasm thousands of fathoms deep ( ). The amount of power conveyed through the image of rushing waters is echoed at the end of the fifth chapter, where he compares the momentum of a good fighting force to that of round rocks rolling down mountains thousands of ren high ( ). Not only do these images suggest a sudden burst of lethal force, but they also connote a sense of inevitability – there is definitely no way the enemy will survive an attack that resembles a dam bursting or a rockslide.” viii In general my students are most impressed with Sunzi’s idea of a “complete victory” , which is all about “defeating the enemy decisively and quickly with as little destruction to either side as possible.” In his paper entitled “The Meaning of Victory in Sun Zi’s The Art of War,” Nick Huang defines Sunzi’s victorious general as one who always “assiduously studies the circumstances and sets up the conditions for a quick and inevitable victory: ‘If you know the enemy and yourself, victory will be certain; if you know the heaven and the earth, victory will be complete’ .” ix However, it all depends on the general’s ability to adapt to changing conditions. Whether to take a risk or not is thus a question of the circumstances: 104 Kang-i Sun Chang / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 Therefore, a body of soldiers has no constant configuration; a body of water has no constant form. He who can gain victory in accordance with the transformation of the enemy is called daemonic. x xi However, looking at the financial crisis of 2007-2009 in America, we have come to understand that one of the problems that led to the subprime-mortgage disaster and banking crisis was that the financial participants did not estimate their risks correctly! It was the high-risk lending, plus the lack of regulatory controls, that eventually brought about the global financial crisis of this magnitude. If lenders and traders had studied Sunzi and had “assiduously studied the circumstances and set up the conditions” as was advised by Sunzi, they would not have brought all of us to this vulnerable situation. 2. The Zhangzi solution It goes without saying that underlying Sunzi’s strategy is a question of advantage ; most of the chapters in the Art of War dwell on the topic of how to secure an advantageous position before entering a war. xii Indeed in both war and business, the core emphasis is on advantage, or profit. However, this is precisely where the Daoist philosopher Zhuangzi departs from Sunzi. According to Zhuangzi, one should act regardless of expected reward, for a true Daoist should be able to transcend the worldly value of gain and loss. Although some students in my class admit that the thoughts of Zhuangzi may seem rather alien to them, a few of them are convinced that Zhuangzi’s perspective on life (and death) serves as a useful addition to the existing practical view in our times of the financial crisis. If anything, faced with the unusually high unemployment rate (when it is difficult to find jobs in their own academic specialties), many students have come to appreciate Zhuangzi’s philosophy. They feel that Zhuangzi has inverted the conventional notion of the useful and the useless and has thus taught them how to think outside the box: Zhuangzi said. . . Now you have this big tree and you’re distressed because it’s useless. Why don’t you plant it in Not-Even-Anything Village, or the field of Broad-and-Boundless, relax and do nothing by its side, or lie down for a free and easy sleep under it? Axes will never shorten its life, nothing can even harm it. If there’s no use for it, how can it come to grief and pain? (Zhuangzi, “Free and Easy Wandering”) xiii In their papers for my course some students discussed the sense of freedom they have learned from Zhuangzi. In particular, Zhuangzi’s idea of returning to nature has the power of liberating one from the artificial confinements of society. Thus instead of feeling panic under the stress of today’s financial crisis, reading Zhuangzi has become a liberating experience for some of my students. Debbie Li writes: This simply means, however, that the true person is able to abandon the “artificial” self. What is traditionally viewed as the self is really a composite of ideologies, authoritarian traditions and other artifices that are imposed on the true self. By promoting the idea of the non-self, Zhuangzi is protecting the genuine self. Such a self never compromises with rules and the crowd of marketplaces. . . .xiv Another student Jessica Dvorak explains how Zhuangzi’s sense of detachment from physical body-- and by extension all external things-- can help one accept any changes in this world with equanimity: The sage accepts changes in his physical state, from illness to deformity to death, with equanimity because he is in tune with Nature (or Heaven, or the Yin and Yang, or the Creator—all these are names for the same thing, the Dao).xv 105 Kang-i Sun Chang / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 In a similar manner, Ben Jacobs is interested in Zhuangzi’s idea of “stilling Oneself”, which appears in the chapter “The Sign of Virture Complete” , with Confucius being used as a kind of mouthpiece : Men do not mirror themselves in running water--they mirror themselves in still water. Only what is still can still the stillness of other things. xvi The fact that Zhuangzi’s idea of stillness appears in association with the water image is worth pointing out here. Most importantly, the presentation of the water image makes the contrast between the “running water” and “still water” extremely vivid. As Ben Jacobs says, this seems to encourage “practitioners to focus first upon recognizing the eternal way and then stilling oneself by not fighting its inevitable trajectory.” xvii Indeed, overwhelmed by the current recession--when “this generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny” againxviii -- many of my Yale students believe that it is most important for them to do some soul-searching (i.e., to “mirror themselves in still water”) before planning their career paths. Oftentimes obstacle provides crucial changes for the future. 3. The Laozi solution A third group of the students mediate between Sunzi and Zhuangzi, but in general they seem to favor the “soft power” preached by Laozi. According to Gina Y. Chen, Laozi’s “soft power” is a kind of passive-aggression that carries the qualities of being soft, humble, and “weak”--and yet extremely powerful and indestructible: . . . Lao Tzu stresses the advantage of being the weaker and softer force. The ultimate victory belongs to those who exercise soft power. Because by being overly aggressive, blunt, sharp, and too straight- forward, one risks the danger of self-destruction. This destruction can come in various forms such as war, competition from enemies, and self-inflicted exhaustion. However, if one pursues soft power, one is likely to obtain the ultimate victory, usually due to the long-enduring patience and persistence of soft power. xix Again, Gina observes that it is through the uses of the water imagery that Laozi’s “soft power” is presented most convincingly in the Daode jing. Gina’s comments on the meaning of the water imagery in chapters 8 and 79 of the Daode jing are especially insightful: Lao Tzu describes water as lowly in terms of position, all-encompassing in how it takes in all the dirt and sediments of the earth, and rather than striving to climb upwards, it flows downwards . . . Yet interestingly, this natural free-flowing process of water into lower position and humbly taking away the dirt of the land is what distinguishes live and active water, from a pool of dead and still water . By not striving to be active, not striving to be a competitive force, it becomes alive, active, and a powerful force.xx The idea of “soft power” is closely linked to Laozi’s basic concept of wuwei (non-action) . Most of my students appreciate a broader interpretation of the term wuwei--for wuwei does not literally mean “doing nothing;” it actually means not interfering, not combative, not overbearing, not pursuing one’s own selfish interests and desires. In fact, by being wuwei, one may become more productive and powerful. And that’s exactly what Laozi meant by “wuwei er wubuzhi” . It is interesting to note that Sunzi’s famous idea about attaining victory without actually going to war (if possible) might have directly drawn from Laozi. Reading through the text of Laozi’s Daode jing , one finds the repeated motif of weapons--e.g., Chapter 31 , Chapter 68 , Chapter 69 ( ). Obviously the Daoist sage Laozi condemns war, although he is also realistic about the inevitability of the war. It is in this context that my student Debbie Li discusses the paradoxical functions of weaponry in Laozi’s Daode jing: 106 Kang-i Sun Chang / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 The Daodejing, however, does not ask for a complete rejection of weaponry and arms; instead, the Daodejing argues that the main function of weapons in a “Daoist” society is to deter war. . . The optimal way to avoid war is to allow the weapons to go unused. Weapons are considered necessary, as these symbols of war need to be on hand in sufficient numbers to protect society, but it is best not to use them. . . xxi The idea that the function of weapons is to prevent war is one which strongly captures my students’ imagination. Many of my students admire Laozi’s combined wisdom of passivity and defense--even in matters of utilizing weapons, Laozi is able to follow the way of the Dao. Only by following Dao can a war avoid the least possible damage to society and also provide “security and harmony to the state.” xxii In essence my students whole-heartedly agree with Wang Meng’s assessment of Laozi in his book, The Help of Laozi , in which Wang Meng praises Laozi as a man of “miraculous wisdom in dealing with worldly affairs” . xxiii It is in this sense that a few of my students believe that today’s economic crisis, if properly corrected according to the Laozi’s wisdom, may lead to a more peaceful world that prevents the recurrence of the overly competitive risks that characterize today’s problems . 4. Some Lingering questions Despite my students’ general fascination with the Chinese ancient thoughts as exemplified by Sunzi, Zhuangzi, and Laozi, there are still lingering questions in their minds. What troubles some of my students is that the ancient Chinese philosophers seem to have neglected the basic problems of the human nature, such that the Eastern thinkers tend to be incredibly idealistic in preaching the dao. Can we be sure that we humans have the ability to refrain from selfish risks (like what Sunzi has taught us not to do) when faced with temptations? Can we really become the “true” free men as proposed by Zhuangzi? Can Laozi’s kind of ideal rulers survive in a real world? Can one actually overcome one’s desires as prescribed by these Daoist sages? As President Obama said in one of his television interviews regarding the problem of the AIG bonuses, our basic “human greed” might be the main cause for the financial crisis. Thus, we should ask: are humans capable of freeing themselves from greed? All these questions inevitably direct some of my students to the sphere of religion. The Christian doctrine of the original sin is still one idea that comes closest to mind. In his legendary book The Meaning of Faith, Harry Fosdick singles out sin as “the most real and practical problems of mankind.” xxiv He further claims that religious faith alone can supply the “moral dynamic” for the solution, while quoting Emerson to support his views on faith. xxv Like President Obama, however, a few of my students found Reinhold Niebuhr’s idea of “Christian realism” ( also called “pessimistic optimism”) even more convincing, for it is a kind of “realism” that recognizes both the impossibility of human perfection but also “man’s capacity for justice” in a democratic system. xxvii xxvi Niebuhr’s idea may indeed serve as a possible solution to today’s financial crisis, if indeed some kind of regulatory system can be established to limit the power of financial managers. But that would be the subject of another paper. References: i Harold Bloom, “Out of Panic, Self Reliance,” New York Times, Op-Ed Contributor, October 11, 2008. 107 Kang-i Sun Chang / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 77 ( 2013 ) 102 – 107 ii I am grateful to my student Ben Jacobs for calling my attention to this point. See his “In or Out of this World: Water in Sunzi, Laozi and Zhuangzi,” final paper, May 4, 2009, p. 1. iiiSee comment posted by Major Web User, 04/29/09, 9: 29 AM EDT. <http://rate.forbes.com/comments/CommentServlet?op=cpage&sourcename=story&StoryURI=2009/04/28/apple-steve-jobs- technology-enterprise-tech-apple.html&com=64239>. See also Brian Caulfield, “Apple’s New Era,” Forbes, 28th April 2009, <http://www.forbes.com-/2009/04/28/-apple-steve-jobs-technology-enterprise-tech-apple.html>. See also Ben Jacobs, “In or Out of this World,” p. 1. iv Peter Wong, “MBA 101: Sun Tzu’s The Art of War,” mid-term paper, spring 2009, pp. 1-2. v See, for example, Ben Jacobs, “In or Out of this World,” p. 1. vi Peter Wong, “Sun Tzu’s Art of War Chapter 12--Attack by Fire,” short essay, spring 2009, p. 1. vii Ben Jacobs, “In or Out of this World,” p. 4. viii Nick Huang, “The Meaning of Victory in Sun Zi’s The Art of War,” short essay, spring 2009, pp. 1-2. ix Nick Huang, “The Meaning of Victory in Sun Zi’s The Art of War,” pp. 1-2. x Victor H. Mair, trans., The Art or War: Sun Zi’s Military Methods (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), p. 99. xi Sunzi jizhu , commentary by Wei Wudi and Sun Xingyan (rpt., Taipei: Dongda tushu gufen youxian gongsi , 2006), juan 6 : 118. xii For the question of advantage, see Sunzi jizhu juan 7 ( ): 122: For the English translation, see Victor Mair, trans., The Art of War, p. 100: “The difficulty of the struggle of armies lies in taking the circuitous as straight, in taking what is troublesome to be advantageous.” xiii Burton Watson, trans., Zhuangzi: Basic Writings (New York: Columbia University Press, 2003), p. 30. xiv Debbie Li, “Zhuangzi and Nietzsche’s Ideal Man,” final paper, April 22, 2009. xv Jessica Dvorak, “Laozi and Zhuangzi on the Sage,” final paper, May 4, 2009. xvi Burton Watson, trans., Zhuangzi, p. 64. xvii Ben Jacobs, “In or Out of this World,” p. 16. xviii In 1936, during the Depression, Franklin D. Roosevelt said that “this generation of Americans has a rendezvous with destiny.” But it seems that the same situation occurred to America again right now. See David M. Kennedy, “FDR’s Lessons for Obama,” Time (July 6, 2009); 29. xix Gina Y. Chen, “Tao’s Passive Aggressiveness: ,” final paper, Spring 2009, p. 5. xx Gina Y. Chen, “Tao’s Passive Aggressiveness,” p. 5. xxi Debbie Li, “Weapons in the Daodejing,” mid-term paper, March 6, 2009, pp. 3-4. xxii Debbie Li, “Weapons in the Daodejing,” p. 6. xxiii Wang Meng , Laozi de bangzhu (Beijing: Huaxia chubanshe, 2009), p. 4. xxiv See Harry Fosdick, The Meaning of Faith (1917; reissued New York: Cosmo, Inc., 2005), p. 240. It should be mentioned that Fosdick’s The Meaning of Faith was translated into Chinese and published in Shanghai in 1921: , 1921 See p. 370 for the Chinese translation of the passage regarding sin. (I am grateful to Prof. Peter Chen-main Wang of National Central University in Taiwan for calling my attention to Fosdick’s book). xxv Harry Fosdick, The Meaning of Faith, p. 262: “Faith always supplies moral dynamic. Emerson’s challenge ‘They can conquer who believe they can,” is easily verified in daily life.” See p. 405 for the Chinese translation regarding Emerson. xxvi For Niebuhr’s idea of “Christian Realism,” see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Reinhold_Neibuhr. For Niebuhr’s pessimistic optimism,” see Robert McAfee Brown, “Introduction,” The Essential Reinhold Niebuhr: Selected Essays and Addresses (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1986), p. xii. Also consult Zhang Hao’s “You an yishi yu minzhu chuantong ,” in his Zhang Hao zixuan ji (Shanghai: Shanghai jiaoyu chubanshe, 2002), pp. 1-24. See also pp. 4-7 for his discussion of Reinhold Niebuhr’s thoughts. xxvii It should be mention that, although without referring to Niebuhr’s idea of “pessimistic optimism,” the Nobel Prize-winning economist Joseph Stiglitz seems to have proposed a very similar solution to todays’ financial disaster, based on his understanding of the human nature. See Michael Hirsh, “Joseph Stiglitz Predicted the Global Financial Meltdown. So Why Can’t He Get Any Respect Here at Home?” Newsweek (July 27, 2009), p. 46: “The solution, Stiglitz says, is to move beyond ideology and to develop a balance between market-driven economies--which he favors--and government oversight.” 
work_ehor5mzntrhkjifnqucjobxn5y	----	What might it mean to live well with depression? This is a repository copy of What might it mean to live well with depression?. White Rose Research Online URL for this paper: http://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/93840/ Version: Accepted Version Article: Scrutton, AP orcid.org/0000-0002-8335-7464 (2016) What might it mean to live well with depression? Journal of Disability and Religion, 20 (3). pp. 178-189. ISSN 2331-2521 https://doi.org/10.1080/23312521.2016.1152935 (c) 2016, Taylor & Francis Group, LLC. This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in the Journal of Disability & Religion on 18 August 2016, available online: http://doi.org/10.1080/23312521.2016.1152935 eprints@whiterose.ac.uk https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/ Reuse Unless indicated otherwise, fulltext items are protected by copyright with all rights reserved. The copyright exception in section 29 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 allows the making of a single copy solely for the purpose of non-commercial research or private study within the limits of fair dealing. The publisher or other rights-holder may allow further reproduction and re-use of this version - refer to the White Rose Research Online record for this item. Where records identify the publisher as the copyright holder, users can verify any specific terms of use on the publisher’s website. Takedown If you consider content in White Rose Research Online to be in breach of UK law, please notify us by emailing eprints@whiterose.ac.uk including the URL of the record and the reason for the withdrawal request. mailto:eprints@whiterose.ac.uk https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/ What might it mean to live well with depression? Introduction In her book, Illness, Havi Carel poses the question, ‘can I be ill and happy?’ (Carel, 2013, 84). With respect to her own permanent, debilitating and life-threatening illness, she gives a positive answer: Against the objective horror of my illness I cultivated an inner state of peacefulness and joy. I was surprised at this, as this ability to be ill and happy, to be gravely ill and yet feel so normal, was not something I expected. I don’t know what caused this response but I thought about it like this. I have no control over this illness but I have full control over my emotions and mental state. (Carel, 2013, 76 – 77) This kind of response is applicable to, and found in, many narratives of illness, but it does not fit easily with the experience of depression: characteristically, depression is such that having full control over one’s emotions and mental state, cultivating an inner state of peacefulness and joy, are experienced as impossible (APA, 2013). The purpose of the research undertaken to write this paper was to see if people describe in their narratives of depression other ways in which they have found to live well with depression. My conclusion was that, provided that one does not adopt a strictly hedonistic understanding of ‘living well’, they do. Some of these ways are cultivated in spite of the experience of depression, and some of them are an effect of it. In this paper I present some of the most striking cases I found, focusing on the following themes. First, living faithfully, by which I mean trusting that and living as though one has a close relationship with others (creaturely and divine) in spite of a feeling of its absence. Here I look at the case of David Hilfiker, whose experience of depression means he feels no relationship with God, and distant from his family and friends – and yet who practices an extraordinary ministry of social activism that is rooted in his faith. Second, compassion, in a sense that incorporates affective and practical ways of responding to the suffering of others. The development of compassion is often noted as an effect of depression after the experience of depression has waned – and these cases are less relevant to the question of living well with depression. However, I argue, one particular expression of the compassion idea – the idea of the wounded healer – refers to depression that is in some way a present reality. At the same time, even the wounded healer literature makes it clear that some degree of distance from the experience, via reflection, is necessary. In order to account for the tension between the presence of the wound and distance from it, I will draw on a distinction between cure and healing. While cure refers to the removal of the illness, healing refers to the emergence of meaning, transformation and personal growth that may take place alongside cure, but which may also take place in its absence. It is this second sense of healing, in which the reality of depression remains, that is most relevant to the idea of the wounded healer and to living well with depression. What it means for the reality of depression to remain (and thus what it means to live well with depression) varies with individual cases. Third, while some studies predict that people with depression will have a diminished engagement with beauty, some narratives of depression actually point to a heightened appreciation of beauty and, more specifically, a sense of re-enchantment. This seems to take place as an aspect of healing – and, as with compassion, this can be either accompanied by, or in the absence of, a cure. While some would argue that a heightened appreciation of beauty would indicate a hedonistic, and perhaps superficial, understanding of ‘living well’, I suggest that an appreciation of beauty may also have moral and epistemic aspects – and thus be implicated in living well in a broader sense. Some caveats: what I am not doing, and that ‘depression’ is not a natural kind So much for what I am doing – now for a few caveats about what I am not doing. First, the aim is not to describe the efficient causes of these hopeful experiences in depression – whether they are the result of divine grace, virtuous human effort, moral luck or the more familiar forms of luck – but simply to draw attention to the existence of these experiences and provide a faithful account of what they involve. Second, some of the cases considered will be of Christians, people from other religious traditions, or people who have a more generic sense of spirituality. Others will not identify themselves as spiritual or religious. I am not interested in the project of showing that Christianity, or religion/spirituality more generally, is good or bad for mental health or more or less likely to lead to living well in the context of mental illness, as it seems to me that this project requires homogenising vastly diverse experiences, practices and beliefs. Third, and regrettably, for reasons of accessibility, my discussion will follow the general trend of religion and mental health literature in focusing on cases of people in the USA and western Europe; I recognise this as a limitation of the current discussion, and hope I and others can offer more globally representative discussions in the future (Koenig, King and Carson, 2013, 172; Abu-Raiya and Pargament, 2012, 337). One further caveat. Perhaps it goes without saying that while I am using the terms ‘depression’ and ‘mental illness’, I do not believe these to be natural kinds. This is of course true of lots of terms that we use all the time – terms such as Christianity, religion, atheism and disability are also probably not natural kinds, and yet we frequently use them to convey phenomena our society has grouped together without worrying about it too much. However, before proceeding, the point that depression and mental illness are not natural kinds perhaps needs to be emphasised. This is because popular anti-stigma campaigns within and outside the Church tend to medicalise experiences such as depression. These anti-stigma campaigns are well-intentioned – they are designed to reduce blame by asserting that depression is not a choice (instead, it is a disease) – and yet the overall effect is to essentialise and reify the experience in a way that is not only philosophically problematic, but can also induce prognostic pessimism, increase stigma, and deflect our attention away from the social injustices that significantly contribute to these experiences (Kvaale, Haslam, and Gottdeiner, 2013; Blazer, 2005, 6). It is far from clear that (contrary to what these campaigns presuppose) disease and choice are mutually exclusive, and certainly not the case that these are the only two ways of conceptualising experiences such as depression – and in fact philosophical and philosophically-nuanced psychiatric literature on the topic points to a far less simplistic picture. As David Pilgrim and Richard Bentall put it: …there appears to be no consistent transcultural, transhistorical agreement about minimal necessary and sufficient pathognomonic criteria for the phenomenon of interest. For this reason, depression, like other functional psychiatric diagnoses [...] is a disjunctive concept, potentially applicable to two or more patients with no symptoms in common. (Pilgrim and Bentall, 1999, 263, my parentheses). What is the relevance of the idea that depression and mental illness are not natural kinds for this discussion? First, that we should not presuppose that the possibility of these hopeful experiences is found or is found equally in all experiences of depression. Experiences of depression are likely to share at least some things in common with at least some other experiences of depression, but they are also likely to be diverse – and therefore we cannot blame someone for not finding the positive elements that another person does. Second, that depression is not ontologically separate from other human experiences, and the features we have grouped together and called ‘depression’ and ‘mental illness’ could have been differently grouped, and placed with other experiences. The upshot of this is that we should expect to find themes in the experience of depression that we find in other areas of human experience and especially human experiences of suffering. The themes I will discuss are therefore not exclusive to depression. This second point pulls in the opposite direction to the first, since the effect of the first is to negate any suggestion of a necessary transferability of the hopeful experiences described in these cases to all cases of depression, while the effect of the second is to univeralise the possibility beyond experiences of depression to all experiences of human suffering. This tension, I suggest, enables us to hold together hope in the possibility of positive experiences with an attitude of non-judgement towards people, whether ourselves or others, whose experiences of depression do not seem to be in any way positive. Living faithfully ‘Courage is […] not absence of fear’ (Mark Twain) ‘Keep buggering on’ (Winston Churchill) David Hilfiker practiced medicine among impoverished people in rural North-East Minnesota and inner city Washington for seventeen years. He later founded and lived in both a medical recovery centre for homeless men, and a community for homeless people with HIV/AIDS. He left medicine on account of finding it interacted too painfully with his depression, and has since had an impressive career, speaking, writing and campaigning against social injustice. Against this backdrop of extraordinary activity, Hilfiker’s revelation of his intermittent and frequently overwhelming depression might come as something of a surprise. It is, he notes, not a depression that instantiates all typical symptoms: ‘no thoughts of suicide, only occasional losses of energy’. His primary experiences could be described as anhedonia, an inability to experience happiness, together with a feeling of distance from others: My depression expresses itself in a limited sense of joy. Life is usually gray and, until I began to understand what was happening, filled with dread. I feel an almost constant emotional distance from others: from Marja, from my children, from my friends, and from God. My daughter, now twenty-seven, recalls a childhood Christmas when she presented me a handmade gift. I said I liked it, and I said I was grateful, but even at age eight she knew I was faking it. That would have been typical for me: hindered from the positive emotions of the moment, emotionally blocked from the love and togetherness offered me by others. And, not knowing what was going on, I felt constantly guilty about it. (Hilfiker, 2002). It is sometimes the case that Christians presuppose that, even if depression affects a person’s experience of life and their relationship with others, provided that they are faithful it will not affect their relationship with God: St Paul writes that ‘neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord’ (Romans 8:38 – 39). It may be refreshing to Christians who do suffer from depression, then, to learn that this is far from Hilfiker’s experience: I have never been fully able enter into the relationship with God, either. I don’t experience God’s presence as real; I don’t experience joy in my relationship with God. At least in comparison to what I sense in others, my relationship with God has always seemed to lack something. I have tried to enter into the life of the church, done my best to follow Jesus. I have taken on our church’s disciplines of membership: an hour of quiet time daily, tithing, weekly worship, silent retreat, and participation in corporate mission. I have been physician to the very poor and homeless, lived in our home for homeless men with AIDS. I have been an active preacher and worship leader. But still, no experience of God. No real joy in my work. No sense of relationship with God. (Hilfiker, 2002). How does Hilfiker cope with the disjunction between belief in, and experience of, God’s love? The path has not been an easy one, and his depression still continues to overwhelm his experience of God at times: ‘I sometimes even kept myself outside of the faith community because I didn’t feel the relationship with God and didn’t want to be a hypocrite’; ‘I’ve sometimes been unable to sit through church [….] Sometimes, just being there was intolerable, and I would have to leave in the middle of the service’ (Hilfiker, 2002). Nevertheless, Hilfiker has come to take solace in the idea that depression does not diminish his spiritual life, though it does hide it. This way of looking at his experience has been made possible by the support of members of his community. As one of the elders of his church put it to him: “David, you may not feel you have a relationship with God, but God clearly has a relationship with you. Trust me: God has entered into your life, and you’ve responded to Him. You belong in this church as a member” (Hilfiker, 2002). Hilfiker’s case provides us with one example of what it might mean to live well with depression: to live faithfully in a relationship with others (in Hilfiker’s case, with God and with his family) in spite of the frequent and painful feeling and perception of distance. In addition, as exemplified by the attitude of the elder, it provides us with an example of what it means to live well in our relationship to people who have depression: a healing attitude is not to judge, and often not even to advise, but to hold a knowledge of the person’s value – in this case, particularly their spiritual life and relationship with God - even in the absence of the person’s own ability to see it (Hilfiker, 2002). Compassion ‘I want to tell everyone: don’t cut yourself, and don’t hurt yourself, and don’t hate yourself. You know? It’s really so important. I wish I’d known that much sooner. I want to tell everyone’. We drove for a little while in silence. ‘Will you try to tell people when you write your book?’ she asked me. And she laughed a little nervously. ‘I’ll try to tell people just what you said,’ I replied. ‘Promise? It’s so important.’ (Angel Starkey, in conversation with Andrew Solomon). I am using ‘compassion’ to mean three things: feeling with people who suffer, being motivated to do something about it, and having a better-than-usual sense about what to do. The idea that depression can lead people to have greater compassion in these senses is frequently expressed by people who have had depression. Andrew Solomon expresses his own experience of it with particular clarity: When you have been depressed, you lose some of your fear of crisis. I have a million faults, but I am a better person than I was before I went through all this. […] I’d like to say that depression made me selfless and that I came to love the poor and downtrodden, but that is not quite what happened. If you have been through such a thing, you cannot watch it unfold in the life of someone else without feeling horrified. It is easier for me, in many ways, to plunge myself into the sorrow of others than it is for me to watch the sorrow and stay out of it. I hate the feeling of being unable to reach people. Virtue is not necessarily its own reward, but there is a certain peace in loving someone that does not exist in distancing yourself from someone. When I watch the suffering of depressed people, it makes me itch. I think I can help. Not interfering is like watching someone spilling good wine all over the dinner table. It is easier to turn the bottle upright and wipe up the puddle than it is to ignore what is going on’ (Solomon, 2001, 499). That there is a link between compassion (in this broad sense) and having suffered is a recurrent theme historically and cross-culturally. The Renaissance poet Francesco Petrarca experienced ‘the terrible plague of the soul – melancholy; which the moderns call accidie, but which in the old days used to be called aegritudo’ (Petrarch, 1911, p. 84, n. 16). In letters of consolation to others, he refers to his own grief and talks about the sensitivity of the physician who has himself been ill, citing Virgil that ‘Being acquainted with grief, I learn to succour the wretched’ (Virgil, Aeneid, 2.630). He also notes that the consolation of someone who has also suffered is particularly effective, whether through insight or perceived authority, or both: it is ‘easy for a healthy man to comfort a sick man with words’ but ‘No one’s solace penetrates a saddened mind more than a fellow sufferer, and therefore the most effect[ive] words to strengthen the spirits of the bystanders are those which emerge from actual torments’ (Petracha, 1992, 380 – 381). Frequently, the development of compassion is something that people experience and reflect on after their period of depression – and these cases are less relevant to the question of whether and how it is possible to live well with depression. However, one particular expression of developing compassion occurs precisely when depression - or at least its spectre, or the woundedness from which it arose - is, if not at its most debilitating heights, nevertheless not entirely relegated to the past; is still in some sense a significant presence. This is the experience of being or becoming what has become referred to as a ‘wounded healer’. A common though not ubiquitous feature of the ‘wounded healer’ theme is that the healer heals her own wounds in the course of healing others (Hillman, 1967, 5). So, for example, a paradigmatic image of the wounded healer is the Siberian shaman. According to wounded healer representations, the Shaman’s vocation is heralded by a period of significant psychological disturbance, he is himself healed by becoming a healer, and his continued healing ministry may also be a condition of the maintenance of his own health (Jackson, 2001, 5). One depression sufferer, Angel Starkey, whose desire to ‘tell people’ began this section, expresses something like this when she says ‘I just so badly want to help people. And maybe in time, I’ll feel, I’ll be doing something for myself too’ (Starkey, cited in Solomon, 2001, 488). A possible problem with wounded healers being regarded as examples of people living well with present depression is that, even though the wounds are conceptualised as present, wounded healer literature insists that some degree of distance from the psychological disturbance is needed. Thus Sigmund Freud, whose period of loss of ‘all capacity for enjoyment’ and ‘extraordinary feeling of tiredness’ (cited in Jones, 1953, 170) gave rise to the Interpretation of Dreams and the basic concepts of his psychoanalytical theory, insisted that ‘everyone who wishes to carry out analyses on other people [should] first himself undergo an analysis by someone with expert knowledge’ (cited in Jackson, 2001, 21). This is now common practice for psychotherapists, counsellors and religious ministers. Analysis or reflection, and so some distance from the experience, seems essential in order for the wounds to be put to good use. Does this mean that compassion and the idea of the wounded healer are only relevant after the event, when people have recovered from depression? Not necessarily, not least because there are many states between and apart from ‘being in the midst of a serious depression’ and ‘having recovered from it’, especially if the depression is experienced over a long period of time, which a ‘before or after’ dichotomy is too simplistic to convey. In working out more precisely what is needed for a person with depression to be an effective healer, the distinction between cure and healing may be helpful. While cure refers to recovery, the absence of the illness, healing may refer to a wider range of events, including personal growth and transformation, and finding meaning in experiences, even when the condition is permanent (see Greider, 2007; Carel, 2013). Perceived diachronically, someone with ongoing or permanent depression may live well in the sense of developing compassion and becoming a wounded healer, provided that their experience is accompanied by healing in this more encompassing sense. Henri Nouwen seems to describe the importance this healing- but-not-cure of wounds when he says that those who minister are called to bind the wound of loneliness ‘with more care and attention than others usually do. For a deep understanding of his own pain makes it possible for him to convert his weakness into strength and to offer his own experience as a source of healing’ (Nouwen, 2008, 87). Indeed, this seems to resonate with Freud’s advice that every prospective psychoanalyst should ‘begin his activity with a self-analysis and continually carry it deeper while he is making observations on his patients’ (cited in Jackson, 2001, 21). Thus, it seems from the wounded healer literature that it is possible for some people to develop compassion and therapeutic wisdom while depression is ongoing, provided that there is scope for the kind of distance provided by reflection within their experience. While the first theme we discussed, living faithfully, can be seen as a case of living well in spite of the experience of depression, the development of compassion comprises a way of living well because of it. This is also a feature of our final theme. Heightened appreciation of beauty ‘The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common’ (Ralph Waldo Emerson) In developing a scale to measure appreciation and engagement with natural, artistic and moral beauty, the ‘Engagement with Beauty Scale’ or ‘EBS’, Rhett Diessner et al. hypothesise that there will be ‘positive, significant correlations’ between the appreciation of beauty and ‘gratitude, spiritual transcendence, and satisfaction with life’, while appreciation of beauty will be negatively correlated with materialism and depression (2008, 308; 312). Regarding depression, this was predicted on the grounds that ‘depression may involve an immoderate degree of focus on the self and transcendental character strengths tend to lift one out of the self’ (2008, 318). In fact, while Diessner et al. were proved correct in some of their predictions – there were medium to high positive correlations with measures of gratitude and spiritual transcendence, a low but statistically significant positive correlation with satisfaction with life, and a low negative correlation with material values - there was no significant correlation (in either direction) between depression and the ability to appreciate beauty. Problematic elements of Diessner et al.’s prediction include basing their prediction on an alleged general feature of depression (as mentioned in the introduction, very few generalisations about depression can be made), and perhaps particularly making the generalisation that they do (that depression involves an ‘immoderate’ degree of focus on the self). On account of the first of these reasons, I don’t want to make any general claims about depression and the appreciation of beauty - yet I do want to highlight that (contrary to Diessner et al.’s prediction), some narratives of depression actually point to a heightened appreciation of beauty in the context of depression. Consider the following account: In the midst of that time [of depression], which I mostly remember as if it were shrouded in thick, dark clouds, I can recall one moment when these clouds parted and I was able to see the reality beyond the one in which I was trapped. It happened, of all places, in the kitchen. I was washing a bunch of Swiss chard in the sink when suddenly I became aware of how beautiful it was – the crinkly green leaves with their bright red veins, the thick yet silky texture of the leaf as I gently pulled apart each fold to wash inside it, the way the leaves glistened in the sunlight slanting through the kitchen window…. Time seemed to stop – or at least cease to matter – as I wondered at the beauty of the chard…. It didn’t instantaneously end my depression and bring me to a place of joy. But it stirred my desire to love. It enticed me to notice and pay attention to the world around me. And at a time when I felt hopeless, this moment of mystery gave me hope that there is more to life – my life, the life of the world – than usually meets the eye, or the ear, or any of my physical senses. In the moment when the veil parts, we see the not-yet now, we glimpse the mystery and beauty at the heart of all that is, we see things as they really are and not as they usually appear. (Ireton, 2008, 113 - 114) Again, Lauren Slater speaks of the way that, once her medication kicked in, there were ‘genuine moments’ when she experienced, as if from an ‘ethereal ledge’, ‘The purple silk of a plum. Sun on a green plate’ (Slater, 1998, 125). She thinks that such moments always occurred, but that she ‘had never noticed them or given them their value’. Both Ireton’s and Slater’s accounts are about the journey to recovery and perhaps an intermission in the depression - but they also seem to be claims about how experiencing depression heightens appreciation of beauty by ‘noticing things and giving them their value’, or by ‘seeing things as they really are’, something that (as both Ireton and Slate indicate) we remain oblivious to the majority of the time. While Ireton and Slater’s experiences of striking beauty are within the context of recovery, David Waldorf, an artist and long-term resident at Creedmoor State Hospital in New York whose diagnoses have included schizophrenia, depression and bipolar disorder, talks about his mental illnesses as showing him a beautiful side of life that he wouldn’t otherwise see: I think if an angel came up to me and said, ‘David, you can be healed of mental illness, but you’ll never again know the worth of life again like you did when you were ill’, I think I’d have to pick the mental illness. ‘Cause that’s just how I feel, that it does show me a beautiful, enchanting side of life that I never saw before (Waldorf, 1999, cited Greider, 2007, 318) In enchantment, experiences are generally not contrived and cannot be recreated – the person stumbles upon or is taken to an enchanted place, which is often otherworldly, and which they often wish they could return to but return to which is entirely outside their control. Ireton also speaks in terms that are strongly reminiscent of this: In the past, I have grasped at whatever ushered me into the enchanted world beyond the veil […] in an attempt to replicate the experience and so quench my desire to live in moments of mystery. This never works. After the moment has passed, the thing itself is a reminder of what I once saw or felt or heard, but it can no longer usher me into that other realm. Now I mostly know better than to pick roses with the expectation that they will open a window on mystery. I’ve learned that I can never enter that other realm by contrivance or simply because I want to. I can only try to pay attention, because I never know when or where the veil might part and mystery might unfold before me. (Ireton, 2008, 115, my parentheses) There is a significant body of literature on the relationship between creativity and bipolar disorder (e.g. Jamison, 1994), but, in contrast, the experience of a heightened appreciation of beauty in some unipolar depression narratives is an intriguing element that, to my knowledge, has not been much explored. While Waldorf is non-specific, Ireton and Slater’s accounts are similar in that both report experiences of natural beauty, and, in both cases, these are of mundane, non-extraordinary things. Perhaps this relates, in part, to the more general phenomenon in illness that people often begin to take small things for granted less than they otherwise do. It is possible that, in the experience of depression, when there is a recovery or a temporary respite from it, the ability to appreciate beauty, which is otherwise more-than- usually absent from the person’s life, is therefore experienced as powerful and even overwhelming. However, the particular character of this appreciation of beauty – the enchantment or ethereal nature to which all three writers allude – seems to remain unexplained. I began this section with Ralph Waldon Emerson’s comment that ‘The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common’. It is easy to work out how the discussion here relates to the second part of this claim, since all three people talk of seeing the miraculous, or at least the mysterious, in the common or everyday. But should this be regarded as a mark of wisdom? An instinctive response, I suggest, is to think not: in modern western culture we tend to think that aesthetic, moral and epistemic virtues are separate, with ‘wisdom’ referring either to the moral or epistemic. Some religious traditions have tended to focus on moral values to the detriment, and sometimes even exclusion, of aesthetic ones. Other areas – for example, academia, and especially science – often present epistemic values as the higher value, again to the detriment or exclusion of the aesthetic. This is problematic for my paper, since, if aesthetic virtues such as the appreciation of beauty are not really valuable, it is unclear how having a heightened sense of beauty would comprise living well in any important sense. Yet this separation between moral, epistemic and aesthetic virtues is not the only possible view. Lessening that gap between the aesthetic and the epistemic, Keats writes that ‘Beauty is truth, and truth beauty’; more recently, Reber, Schwartz and Winkielman have argued that the same psychological processes undergird judgements of truth and beauty (Keats, 1819/1967; Reber, Schwartz and Winkielman, 2004). Bridging the gap between the aesthetic and the moral, Kant thought that an interest in the beauty of nature (in particular) was evidence of a ‘good soul’ (1790/1987, 165). If we allow that these writers are on to something, it seems that the revelations of beauty of which Ireton, Slater and Waldorf speak may not simply be a pleasurable partial compensation for their suffering, but actually something that contributes to their wisdom by enabling them to ‘see things as they really are’ – and so something that enables them to ‘live well’ in a more-than-hedonistic sense. Conclusion Evidence that depression may yield positive benefits after the experience is not difficult to find. Evidence that there are ways of living well with depression at the time of depression is rather less easy. Two problems in particular present themselves when we start to talk about living well with depression. One is that we will romanticise the experience: the title of this journal edition talks about living life in abundance, but an absence of abundance is common in many cases of depression. Speaking about ways in which life with depression may be abundant may amount to a naïve and mawkish representation that flies offensively in the face of the reality of the experience. A second problem is that talking about living well with depression can seem prescriptive, and place an additional burden on people who experience depression to ‘live well’ in the sense specified. After all, it is precisely claims about presently-experienced eternal life and about living life in abundance found in John’s Gospel and Pauline texts that have led some Christians to claim that depression is a sin or the result of sin. As one experient puts it: When dealing with people in the church ... some see mental illness as a weakness -- a sign you don’t have enough faith. They said: ‘It’s a problem of the heart. You need to straighten things out with God.’ They make depression out to be a sin, because you don’t have the joy in your life a Christian is supposed to have. (Jessy Grondin, cited Camp, 2009; see Galatians 5:22; John 15) Are we philosophically and ethically justified, then, in talking about the possibility of living well with depression at all? I think we are: philosophically, because living well, in some sense of the term, is (as this paper has argued) true to some people’s experience of depression, and ethically because, treated in the right way, discussing ways in which some people have found they can live well in spite of, or even because of, depression can provide hope to those who suffer from it (Scrutton, 2015). My aim is to do these writers and thinkers justice, and to give hope to people with depression that experiences of depression are not necessarily an irredeemable waste. Yet the reality is that these are painful, partial ways of living well on any understanding of ‘living well’ that does not idealise suffering – and the fact that they exist as possibilities should not deter people from evaluating depression as fundamentally undesirable; from seeking recovery and cure in addition to the forms of healing explored here. Much transformation and personal growth that arises from depression arises in hindsight. In religious evaluations of depression in particular, this has sometimes been neglected (see Scrutton, forthcoming). It seems wise to seek healing, such as the kinds of healing explored here – but not to the exclusion of a possible recovery or cure. Bibliography Abu-Raiya, Hisham, and Pargament, Kenneth. 2012. On the links between religion and health: what has empirical research taught us? In Oxford Textbook of Spirituality in Healthcare. Ed. Cobb, M., Puchalski, C.M., Rumbold, B. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 333 – 340 APA, 2013. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (5th ed.). Arlington: American Psychiatric Publishing. Carel, Havi. 2013. Illness (2nd ed.). Durham: Acumen Publishing Blazer, Dan G. 2005. The Age of Melancholy: “Major Depression” and Its Social Origins. New York, Routledge. Diessner, Rhett; Solom, Rebecca C.; Frost, Nellie K.; Parsons, Lucas; Davidson, John. 2008. Engagement with Beauty: Experiencing Natural, Artistic and Moral Beauty. The Journal of Psychology. 142(3), 303 - 329 Grondin, Jessy, in Camp, K. 2009. Through a glass darkly: Churches respond to mental illness. Available at https://www.baptiststandard.com/resources/archives/51-2009- archives/10896-through-a-glass-darkly-churches-respond-to-mental-illness921 [Accessed 8th April 2015] Greider, Kathleen J. 2007. Much Madness is Divinest Sense: Wisdom in Memoirs of Soul- Suffering. Ohio: Pilgrim Press Hilfiker, David. 2002. When Mental Illness Blocks the Spirit. The Other Side. Available at http://www.davidhilfiker.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=33:when- mental-illness-blocks-the-spirit&catid=14:spirituality-essays&Itemid=24 [Accessed 8th April 2015] Hillman, James. 1967. Insearch: Psychology and religion. New York: Scribner & Sons Ireton, Kimberlee Conway. 2006. The Circle of Seasons: Meeting God in the Church Year. Jackson, Stanley W. 2001. The Wounded Healer. Bulletin of the History of Medicine, Volume 75, Number 1, Spring 2001, pp. 1-36 Jamison, Kay Redfield. 1994. Touched with Fire: Manic-Depressive Illness and the Artistic Temperament. New York: The Free Press Jones, Earnest. 1953. The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud, 3 vols. (New York: Basic Books, 1953–57), vol. 1 Kant, Immanuel. 1987. Critique of Judgement (W. Phuhar, Trans.) Indianapolis, IN: Hackett. (Original work published in 1790) Keats, John. 1967. Complete poetry and selected prose of Keats. New York: Modern Library. (Original work published in 1819) Kendell, R.E. and Jablensky, A. 2003. Distinguishing between the validity and utility of psychiatric diagnoses. American Journal of Psychiatry 160. 4 – 12 Koenig, H., King, D., Carson., V. 2013. Handbook of Religion and Health. Oxford: Oxford University Press. https://www.baptiststandard.com/resources/archives/51-2009-archives/10896-through-a-glass-darkly-churches-respond-to-mental-illness921 https://www.baptiststandard.com/resources/archives/51-2009-archives/10896-through-a-glass-darkly-churches-respond-to-mental-illness921 http://www.davidhilfiker.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=33:when-mental-illness-blocks-the-spirit&catid=14:spirituality-essays&Itemid=24 http://www.davidhilfiker.com/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=33:when-mental-illness-blocks-the-spirit&catid=14:spirituality-essays&Itemid=24 Kvaale, E.P., Haslam, N., and Gottdiener, W.H. (2013) The ‘side effects’ of medicalization: A meta-analytical review of how biogenetic explanations affect stigma. Clinical Psychology Review 33, 782 – 794 Nouwen, Henri. 2008. The wounded healer: ministry in contemporary society. London: Darton, Longman and Todd. Reprint, 11th Petrarca, Francesco, Petrarch’s Secret: or The Soul’s Conflict with Passion, trans. William H. Draper (London: Chatto and Windus, 1911) Petrarca, Francesco, Letters of Old Age: Rerum senilium libri. 2 vols. Trans. Aldo S. Bernardo, Saul Levin, and Reta A. Bernardo (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), 2: 380–81 (Sen.10.4). Pilgrim, David and Bentall, Richard. 1999 ‘The medicalisation of misery: A critical realist analysis of the concept of depression’ Journal of Mental Health, Vol. 8, No. 3 : pp. 261-274. Reber, R., Schwarz, N., & Winkielman, P. (2004). Processing fluency and aesthetic pleasure: Is beauty in the perceiver’s processing experience? 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work_ei4egskc2vd6hg7xqvoxvsnp7y	----	Ben Lazare Mijuskovic, "Consciousness and Loneliness: Theoria and Praxis." Copyright, 2020 Michael D. Bobo Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 20:59 Philosophy in Review Ben Lazare Mijuskovic, "Consciousness and Loneliness: Theoria and Praxis." Michael D. Bobo Volume 40, numéro 1, février 2020 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1068156ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1068156ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) University of Victoria ISSN 1206-5269 (imprimé) 1920-8936 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce compte rendu Bobo, M. (2020). Compte rendu de [Ben Lazare Mijuskovic, "Consciousness and Loneliness: Theoria and Praxis."]. Philosophy in Review, 40(1), 31–33. https://doi.org/10.7202/1068156ar http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0 https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/pir/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1068156ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1068156ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/pir/2020-v40-n1-pir05180/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/pir/ Philosophy in Review Vol. 40 no. 1 (February 2020) 31 Ben Lazare Mijuskovic. Consciousness and Loneliness: Theoria and Praxis. Brill 2018. 505 pp. $133.00 USD (Paperback ISBN 9789004375642). Ben Mijuskovic continues his ambitious life project in this fifth installment of an interdisciplinary series in consciousness and loneliness within philosophical, psychological, and literary discourse. Mijuskovic possesses the unique combination of academic, clinical, and professional experience to cross the aisle between philosophers and therapists. Such a CV emboldens his argument for a return to a metaphysical argument for human consciousness culminating in intrinsic and inevitable loneli- ness. Embracing this universal reality is the first step to philosophical grounding and psychological wholeness. His methodology, argumentation, and conclusions tend to be highly provocative in the age of contemporary neuroscientific and pharmaceutical predominance. The author boldly opposes contemporary philosophical and scientific research methods due to their preferences for reductive materialist, empirical, behavioral, and neuroscientific approaches, which fall prey to a similar error. His work mutually challenges contemporary rivals in philosophy and psychology in this exhaustive survey of a history of consciousness encompassing Plato to Raymond Tallis. As he contends in the first chapter, ‘philosophies of dualism and subjective idealism perform a more credible job of providing insight into the intricacies of human consciousness as op- posed to the reductivist strategies and methodologies of materialism, mechanism, determinism, em- piricism, phenomenalism, behaviorism, and the neurosciences’ (54). By tackling a litany of philo- sophical and psychological opponents and their schools, Mijuskovic strategically establishes a foundational argument, which he substantiates in his sweeping history of philosophy while keeping his rivals in conversation when necessary and appropriate. Consciousness and Loneliness: Theoria and Praxis examines the history of an idea and its many uses in the history of philosophy of mind, as well as to substantiate Mijuskovic’s theory of consciousness and its effects in contemporary psychological practice. He frames the relationship between consciousness and loneliness in Kantian a priori terms, which structures the work around a philosophical discourse with theoretical bases to move to a practical discussion of psychological consequence. The book expands and applies Mijuskovic’s earlier historical and philosophical sur- veys of consciousness as a single, simple, indivisible, monadic first presented in Plato’s Phaedo 78b, deemed the ‘Achilles’ of rationalist arguments in Kant’s first edition of Critique of Pure Reason (1781, A 351-2). Historically, philosophers from Plato to the present have debated the meaning, implication, and effects of simplicity inherent in consciousness. According to Mijuskovic, these discourses progress logically and historically in one or more of eight areas spanning Platonic, Medieval, early Modern, and Contemporary eras of philosophy of mind: 1) the immortality of the soul 2) the unity of consciousness 3) a defense of personal or moral identity 4) a foundation to metaphysical idealism 5) the immateriality of meanings, time and space in moral idealism and phenomenology 6) the freedom of consciousness 7) internal time-conscious- ness and 8) a dichotomization of consciousness between internal qualitative and external quantitative dimensions—which set the stage for discourse on the nature of loneliness within the psychological, psychiatric, and neuroscientific communities. This eight-part framework structures the discourse around Mijuskovic’s theory of conscious- ness within most of Parts 1 and 2 (chapters 1-5). However, Mijuskovic concentrates his attention on discourses six through eight. These discourses were not well defended in the author’s four previously published works. Anyone unfamiliar with Mijuskovic’s The Achilles of Rationalist Arguments (Springer, 1974) and Contingent Immaterialism (B.R. Grüner Publishing Co., 1984) should consider Philosophy in Review Vol. 40 no. 1 (February 2020) 32 sampling these thorough treatments of the first five uses of the simplicity premise before reading chapters three through five. Chapters 1-2 cover the first five uses in conversation since they were well defended previously with close attention to Ralph Cudworth, Immanuel Kant, David Hume, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Edmund Husserl as examples of the argument’s uses within rationalism, idealism, and phenomenology. Chapter 3 discusses the freedom of consciousness. Chapter 4 chron- icles the defense of immanent time-consciousness from Plato to John Hospers, while chapter 5 dis- cusses quality of consciousness in conversation with quantitative aspects that frequently receive greater attention in scientific approaches to the study of consciousness. Readers familiar with Mijuskovic’s research should pay close attention to this chapter as it extensively concentrates upon research in Kant and Hegel that does not appear in previous works. In Mijuskovic’s three-part structure, Parts 1 and 2 work within areas akin to his studies in The Achilles of Rationalist Arguments and Contingent Immaterialism. Geared for an academic audi- ence well-versed in the history of philosophy and psychology, Consciousness and Loneliness adeptly navigates the inherent interconnectedness between consciousness and loneliness through the ‘umbrella concepts,’ which the author openly admits can be ‘extremely broad and, at times, admit- tedly quite vague, even in its general outlines concerning the fields which may be said to comprise it’ (62). The interdisciplinarity of this enterprise requires readership with a very comfortable grasp of both philosophical and psychological communities in Europe and America from the Classical to contemporary times. Humanities scholars find this rather exciting and rife with possibility. Strict disciplinarians may struggle with the ‘broad’ and ‘vague’ nature of these leaps in time, in context and in subject matter. However, this work is situated perfectly within the Value Inquiry Book Series, founded in 1992 by Robert Ginsberg, to examine the intersection of philosophy and other disciplinary discourse such as politics, gender, religion, health, education, psychology and law. Consciousness and Loneliness comfortably moves between disciplines and discourses, demonstrating Mijuskovic’s mastery of his theoretical, philosophical, methodological, and practical implications of his argument. This work continues Mijuskovic’s inquiry of loneliness and heartfelt appeal to his psycho- logical peers presented in his previous works - Feeling Lonesome (Praeger, 2015) and Loneliness in Philosophy, Psychology, and Literature (Iuniverse Inc., 2012). Mijuskovic reaffirms theoretical and philosophical claims in his central thesis on loneliness as the inevitable consequence of the simplicity argument’s eight uses discussed in the first five chapters. Chapters 6 to 10 explore practical implica- tions and applications of his theory of consciousness while defending the philosophical and psycho- logical benefits of metaphysical dualism, subjective idealism, phenomenology, and existentialism. Mijuskovic argues loneliness is an ‘umbrella concept’ rooted in the existential and phenomenological nature of consciousness (430). Psychologists would be wise to pay closer attention to this third section and its use of Freud, Zilboorg, Fromm and more. One’s theory of consciousness directly impacts clinical relationships and prescribed pharmaceutical remedies. To the philosopher of psychology or psychologically minded reader, these two earlier works should be read prior to tack- ling Part 3 of Consciousness and Loneliness. Taken collectively, all three installations provide a powerful case for the historical and logical interdisciplinary discourse of epistemological, onto- logical, psychological and therapeutic dimensions of psychiatric, and psychological practice in the twenty-first century. Mijuskovic’s call for metaphysical dualism does not depend upon theological presuppo- sitions frequently subsumed with philosophical defenses of metaphysical dualism. Irreligious or athe- ist readers may consider his work a viable option to return to a secular metaphysics. Consciousness and Loneliness astutely severs the tie between religion and metaphysics, which entails a truncation of categories of discourse in order to defend theism and dualist metaphysics at the same time. Philosophy in Review Vol. 40 no. 1 (February 2020) 33 Mijuskovic’s theory of consciousness coheres with philosophical discourse from Plato to the present while avoiding the Medieval, Enlightenment and Contemporary argument for dualist metaphysics integrating theism, fideism or religious justifications such as Blaise Pascal, Søren Kierkegaard, William James, and Richard Swinburne. Rejecting theism or fideism does not logically necessitate a turn away from dualist metaphysics or idealism as in the Logical Positivists and Analytic Philos- ophers in the twentieth century elevation of reason and empiricism. Philosophers of mind, psychologists and clinical psychiatrists should all consider Mijuskovic’s thesis in its unique combination of metaphysical dualism and existentialist psychology. His direct challenge against materialist, behavioralist, and neuro-pharmacological solutions to loneli- ness demonstrates his courage and passion for patients he witnessed in his career as a social worker. Some of his most provocative sentiments tie to his caseload and the human element in this larger philosophical and psychological discourse. Mijuskovic humanizes his clients selectively, but power- fully, as seen in his retelling of a twenty-year old Hispanic woman’s rape and subsequent unraveling following this most unholy act by her father. Rather than a pharmaceutical remedy, ‘What the young woman wanted more than anything was for the father to acknowledge what he had done; to “own” the violation of his daughter’ (424). The recommended pharmaceutical approach to the depression and anxiety resulting from traumatic events cannot possibly resolve deeper existential realities rooted in a materialist philosophy of consciousness—is irresponsible according to Mijuskovic’s thesis. Mijuskovic concludes his work with a call to bolster our basic human relationships as a thera- peutic measure accessible to every one of us: ‘Thus the most powerful positive affective bond solder- ing one soul to another is constituted through empathy’ (440). The problem of consciousness and loneliness find mutually philosophical grounding and psychological benefits in the wisdom of a time- less emphasis upon friendship, intimacy and soulful connections as seen in Aristotle, Augustine, Montaigne and Husserl. Mijuskovic eloquently concludes his tome with sage advice bolstered by hundreds of pages of philosophical and psychological research: ‘No other animal except a human one can intend, mean, and reflexively share it with another being. That is both our human salvation and our redemption from all the horrors of life. That is the compensation for our human existence’ (442). Michael D. Bobo, Norco College 
work_ekeysie3fzgvzaomfbzemxg7vu	----	EDITORIAL The Toxicology Tower of Babel: Why We Need to Agree on a Lexicon in Prescription Opioid Research Lewis S. Nelson & Leonard J. Paulozzi Published online: 21 September 2012 # American College of Medical Toxicology 2012 A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. RW Emerson Ralph Waldo Emerson notwithstanding, inconsistency in the use of medical terminology, particularly in written communi- cation, can lead to confusion. Propagation of even subtle variations in terminology and definitions through the literature can lead to inaccurate descriptions of medical problems and poor medical decision making that impact patient outcomes. In the medical literature, terms are often used interchangeably or are redefined by study authors to fit the context of their research methodology. Although there are bona fide needs to redefine terms in various study settings, accuracy and preci- sion in the use of language is critical. This is particularly evident in the opioid analgesic literature because of the diverse backgrounds of those who write on the topic, including epi- demiologists and clinicians, and their diverse clinical perspec- tives, ranging from pain medicine to addiction. As we were preparing our own publications and review- ing those of our colleagues for this issue, the need for a consistent set of terms to describe the gamut of prescription opioid-related issues came sharply into focus. Even if authors define the terms, it is likely that many casual readers will apply their own preconceived definitions to many com- monly used words. We decided to explore some of the more challenging complications of the language used in the opioid analgesic literature and in regulatory use. This list is intended to be representative of the complexity of opioid analgesic lan- guage in the field, rather than a comprehensive treatment of the issue. We also offer potential solutions to this vexing and persistent problem. Why Are We Having Problems with Terminology? This entire issue of the Journal of Medical Toxicology is devoted to adverse events related to prescription opioids. Therefore, at the most basic level, we need to agree on what an “opioid” is. An opioid is a chemical that binds to, and stimulates (is an agonist at), opioid receptors in the brain and other tissue. The category includes endogenous opioids (e.g., endorphin, for endogenous morphine), opiates (e.g., opium-derived natural compounds such as morphine and codeine), semisynthetic opioids (compounds derived from opiates such as hydrocodone, oxycodone, and heroin), and fully synthetic opioids (e.g., methadone and fentanyl). Although a word such as “opioid” had a medical defini- tion, the medical and legal definitions of words are frequent- ly confused. For example, although a “narcotic” in medical terminology represents a drug that has sleep-inducing prop- erties, the term is far more widely interpreted in its legal meaning, where it includes drugs with very different prop- erties, such as cocaine. The term “narcotic analgesic” is also widely and usually inappropriately applied to opioid anal- gesics. It implies “illegal” use and is best avoided in the medical literature. This recommendation should also extend to patient interactions because the majority of patients asso- ciate the word “narcotic” with its legal meaning. We need to separate the legal context of such analgesics (i.e., as L. S. Nelson (*) New York University School of Medicine, 455 First Avenue, Room 123, New York, NY 10016, USA e-mail: lewis.nelson@nyumc.org L. J. Paulozzi Division of Unintentional Injury Prevention, National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 601 Sunland Park Drive, Suite 200, El Paso, TX 79912, USA e-mail: lbp4@cdc.gov J. Med. Toxicol. (2012) 8:331–332 DOI 10.1007/s13181-012-0266-7 narcotics) from their medical categorization as opioids based on their receptor affinities. A number of terms describe how drugs are used, and distinctions among such terms have also become more im- portant. As we have moved into an era of prescription drug abuse from an era of abuse of street drugs, attention to semantic subtleties is now perhaps even more important. For heroin, use, misuse, and abuse did not need to be distinguished. For opioid analgesics, we need to distinguish all three terms plus terms such as “nonmedical use.” Simi- larly, the same chemicals can change labels depending on the circumstances. For example, a chemical can be de- scribed as a substance, a poison, a drug, or a medication depending on its original purpose, the intent of its current use, and the outcome of use. The term “illicit drug use” is also ambiguous because either the drug or the use might be illicit, a distinction that was never necessary for heroin. Even when what is illicit is the type of use, illicit use of opioid analgesics can be hard to define. An opioid analgesic can certainly be obtained by prescription licitly but then used for illicit purposes. But what if it is obtained illegally but used for approved indications? Or even more complicated, what if it is obtained legally and used as indicated but obtained from five different doctors? As a result, when a publication uses the phrase “illicit drug use,” it is unclear whether the behavior includes only drugs such as heroin, cocaine, and marijuana, or those drugs in addition to legal prescription drugs used in illicit ways. Our attempts to be clear about the use of prescription drugs have sometimes created awkward constructions. For example, we frequently read the term “prescription opioid,” but some object even to this simple label because much of the current epidemic involves prescription drugs that are not prescribed to their ultimate users. As a result, some have proposed the term “prescription-type” opioids, recognizing both that such drugs are used without prescription and that the alternative “non-prescription opioid” has a different set of problems. In this case, we have added even more termi- nology in a search for greater accuracy or precision. To further complicate an already muddled terminology, we have problems with how we use and define the indication for opioid analgesics. For example, the phrase “pain medication” may seem paradoxical because it does not cause pain; it relieves pain. And the distinction between cancer pain and noncancer pain is far less clear than the phrases suggest. One barrier to addressing the varying preferences for terminology is the poor quality of information available on the drug source and reason for use, especially in “complex” patients. Rarely is a person with a drug- related problem willing to answer 20 or more questions about their circumstances of drug use. Therefore, even with the clearest and most distinct definitions available, a researcher cannot easily determine which classification to use to describe the problem. He or she might then opt for broad labels such as “misuse/abuse” and modi- fiers such as “possible” and “probable” and show a general lack of enthusiasm for elaborating even more specific terms. What Can Be Done? We advocate for a consistent labeling system for the medications themselves and a consistent taxonomy for mode of use for prescription drugs. We need to strive for descriptors that can handle the complexities of pre- scription drug use while remaining consistent with the definitions of terms already in use in medical settings. Terms should also be developed for situations that are currently poorly defined. To provide a credible lexicon that encompasses mul- tiple stakeholder perspectives, we suggest that a multi- disciplinary working group be convened to properly frame the terminology and its use. This group should include (the lists are incomplete and in alphabetical order) nurses, pharmacists, and physicians, specializing in addiction, emergency medicine, forensic medicine, internal medicine, medical toxicology, pain medicine, and pediatrics. Epidemiologists and other researchers should be intimately involved, both from the private sector and from government agencies focused on public health, such as the CDC, FDA, NIDA, and SAMHSA. In the same way that languages have developed dialects over time, opioid analgesic terminology has evolved in different disciplines to the point that we no longer under- stand one another clearly as we try to construct a solution to a shared, growing problem with prescription drugs. We need to first learn to speak a common language. We might have to tear down the current Tower of Babel and start over, but otherwise we won’t be able to work together to address the problem effectively. Conflict of Interest The authors have no conflicts of interest. 332 J. Med. Toxicol. (2012) 8:331–332 The Toxicology Tower of Babel: Why We Need to Agree on a Lexicon in Prescription Opioid Research Why Are We Having Problems with Terminology? What Can Be Done? 
work_eled6gc2zfhybowsnn74665kkq	----	Literary Associations with Mount Tamalpais | California History | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 61, Issue 2 July 1982 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| July 01 1982 Literary Associations with Mount Tamalpais Lincoln Fairley Lincoln Fairley Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar California History (1982) 61 (2): 82–99. https://doi.org/10.2307/25158096 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Lincoln Fairley; Literary Associations with Mount Tamalpais. California History 1 July 1982; 61 (2): 82–99. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/25158096 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search This content is only available via PDF. Copyright 1982 CHS Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content. Sign in Don't already have an account? Register Client Account You could not be signed in. Please check your email address / username and password and try again. Email address / Username ? Password Sign In Reset password Register Sign in via your Institution Sign in via your Institution Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Mexican American Parrhesia at Troy: The Rise of the Chicana/o Movement at the University of Southern California, 1967–1974 Breaking the Eleventh Commandment: Pete McCloskey’s Campaign against the Vietnam War Fishing on Porpoise: The Origins of Dolphin Bycatch in the American Yellowfin Tuna Industry Keepers of the Culture at 3201 Adeline Street: Locating Black Power Theater in Berkeley, California Suburban Cowboy: Country Music, Punk, and the Struggle over Space in Orange County, 1978–1981 Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Online ISSN 2327-1485 Print ISSN 0162-2897 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
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work_enmrpc4t5vchfnehvjlr3w3qui	----	MLN 126 (2011): 471–485 © 2011 by The Johns Hopkins University Press Sailing by the Stars: Constellations in the Space of Thought ❦ James McFarland Auch die sternische Verbindung trügt. Doch uns freue eine Weile nun der Figur zu glauben. Das genügt. —Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonette an Orpheus, XI. I. In a footnote to his early essay “Force and Signification” from 1963, Jacques Derrida considered the contemporary vogue for the notion of “structure” in the following terms. “In order to assess the deep necessity that underlies the undeniable phenomenon of fashion, one must proceed initially by the ‘negative path,’—the choice of the word is initially a—structural, of course—ensemble of exclusions. To know why one says ‘structure’ is to know why one ceases to say eidos, ‘essence,’ ‘form,’ Gestalt, ‘collection,’ ‘composition,’ ‘complex,’ ‘con- struction,’ ‘correlation,’ ‘totality,’ ‘idea,’ ‘organism,’ ‘state,’ ‘system,’ etc. One must understand why each of these words revealed itself to be insufficient, but also why the concept of structure continued to borrow certain implicit meanings from them and allows itself to be inhabited by them.”1 1Jacques Derrida, “Force and Signification,” in Writing and Difference, trans. Alan Bass (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1978) 301. 472 JameS mcFarland Though Derrida has conceded the relevance of the term “structure,” a term that, particularly in its contrast with “genesis,” has a central importance for this phenomenological phase of his theoretical career, the “negative path” of the footnote that passes through this remarkable chain of substitutions, the Greek transliterated, the German italicized, the French (original, here translated) in quotation marks, calls into question the ultimate adequacy of any theoretical term. The metaphor of a path, the notion of revealed insufficiency, the suggestion of con- tinued borrowing all lend to what might at first be understood as a synchronic differential paradigm an implicitly diachronic dimension. Not that the series as such is to be understood as a chronological or even logical sequence; what substitutes for what, when, and why, this is all left indeterminate by the path, surrendered to the closing “et cetera” and the invisible principle toward which it gestures. One might say this indeterminacy is its “negative” character. And yet the ideal of knowledge proposed here, an ideal in which why one says one thing and why one does not say another both converge in a decision, is exposed to an irreducible historicity. The renunciation that jettisons these alternative philosophemes in favor of “structure” does not simply cast them into oblivion but relegates them to a partially superseded history of prior statements. The choice in favor of “structure” is an historical choice, and draws its significance from its contrast and continuity with the entire historical tradition within which it occurs. The striking heterogeneity of these terms, in which the inclusion of Gestalt, organism, state seems designed to interfere with any straight- forward reduction of the chain to the Husserlian tradition from which Derrida is emerging, raises the question of what encompassing tradition might be at stake in the choice. If eidos, essence, form, construction, complex, system, totality and idea all seem to echo Husserl’s analy- ses, none of them could be called uniquely Husserlian coinages, and the absence of such terms as “monad” or “Existenzial,” indigenous to particular philosophies, reinforces the sense that this path traverses nothing less than the anonymous terrain of western philosophical reflection. But at this level of generality, how are we to understand the “et cetera” that gestures toward that terrain? What else does it include, and in particular, could we locate within it the word that interests us here, and that is conspicuously absent from Derrida’s list? What sort of a philosopheme is “constellation,” and what relation does it have to the quasi-synonyms for “structure” that Derrida identifies? Could we call this series itself a constellation? And if we did, to what would we have committed ourselves? 473m l n As an expository term, the word “constellation” serves to hold a set of disparate elements provisionally in place, without attributing to their assembly or conjunction any positive meaning. When we speak of a “constellation” of factors or a “constellation” of texts, we imply merely their simultaneous presence for reflection in some context we intend to illuminate, but the scientific anachronism of the term serves to suspend any prior reasonable characterization of that context. If the meaning of “constellation” in a theoretical context is largely underdetermined, if the term serves the heuristic purpose of suggest- ing a unifying principle at stake among a collection of objects while precluding any precipitous commitment to a positive characterization of that unifying principle, it may seem that we can, and indeed ought to avoid any attempt to characterize the term positively. Having rec- ognized its tactical function in the exposition of argument, we should not expect that the word can be semantically redeemed in any other terms than the eventual conclusions of the particular arguments in which it appears. And none of these arguments concludes that some- thing is a constellation. Rather, a posited constellation of factors or elements, of forces or reactions, is shown eventually to be something of determinate theoretical interest. To reflect upon the word “constel- lation” in its positive significance independently of this preliminary operational role in theoretical discourse is metaphysical hypostasis of the crudest sort. What does “constellation” mean as a theoretical term? Stricto sensu, nothing. It holds open the site of eventual mean- ing, presenting an occasion for conceptual reflection and analysis that will always ultimately be characterized in more respectable terms. But to imagine that by recognizing the heuristic function of the word constellation we have circumvented any substantive question about its meaning is to presuppose all too precipitously the self-evi- dence of reasonable thought. Because the word constellation opens onto reasonable discourse without being entirely circumscribed in its content by rational concepts, we are justified in asking how this link to reason is possible. Not just any word can play the role constella- tion plays in philosophical inquiry. In Derrida’s footnote, the word “ensemble” serves a similar preliminary place-holding role; the path is an “ensemble of exclusions.” But it is not a trivial question whether that similar role renders “ensemble” philosophically indistinguishable from “constellation.” As a metaphorical vehicle, the word “constellation” invokes an out- dated cosmology of concentric spheres; astral constellations themselves appear as planar arrangements of what are, in reality, widely dispersed 474 JameS mcFarland astronomical bodies in the depths of universal space. Constellations as such are not “out there” at the edge of the cosmos, they appear to us, from our position, eyes raised, on the surface of the earth. It took watchers of the skies many centuries to recognize the discrep- ancy between this apparent space extending between our terrestrial observation-point and the fixed stars at its extreme limit and the actual contours of universal space in which discrete bodies move in gravitationally-dictated patterns. The historical process through which this discrepancy was elaborated is punctuated by profound transitions. Looking back we imagine at the prehistoric origins a mythic, cosmo- gonic space traversed by superhuman intentions, a space unlimited by internal causal regularities but hosting rather the antagonistic wills of the gods. This is the space in which constellations first appear, set among the fixed stars as the gift of immortality and a permanent recollection of individual mythic destinies. Careful observation of the regularity of celestial movements transforms this mythic cosmos into a law-governed astral environment, and eventually into the astrophysi- cal universe we inhabit today. In the course of this development, the constellations lose their self-evidence and remain in the night sky merely as familiar patterns without scientific significance. And yet the unimaginable distances at which their components lie and the immemorial antiquity of their designations are not accidental to their metaphoric perseverance. “One might think the atmosphere was made transparent with this design,” Emerson reflected in his treatise Nature, “to give man, in the heavenly bodies, the perpetual presence of the sublime.”2 And we remember that Kant himself was famously moved to assert that, “two things fill the mind with ever new and increasing admiration and awe, the oftener and more steadily we reflect on them: the starry heavens above me and the moral law within me.”3 The proximity of astral constellations to transcendental thought is borne by the stars themselves. In the millennia through which their names and shapes have come down to us, constellations have retained two primary connotations: astrological influence and navigational assistance. In both cases, it is the space between the constellation and the human observer that is at issue. This, then, is our first recognition. The term constellation, which 2Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature, in The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. Brooks Atkinson (New York: The Modern Library, 2000) 5. 3Immanuel Kant, Kritik der praktischen Vernunft, in Kants Werke: Akademie-Textausgabe, vol. 5 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1968) 161 [A289]; Critique of Practical Reason, trans. Lewis White Beck (Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill, 1956) 166. 475m l n appears to be merely a synonym for a collection or arrangement, and whose meaning therefore seems to reside primarily in the relations among the elements constituting it, in the underdetermined unifying principle subsequent discourse intends to clarify, is already in fact the volatilization of any self-evident relation between the immediate observer and the objects at the limit that is observed. II. The space of this relation between literal constellations and the observer on the ground is the space in astrology of occult influences. However rationalized and coherent contemporary astrology may be, irrationality characterizes its entire project. This view of astrology as the negative counterpart to enlightened rationality animates “The Stars Down to Earth,” Theodor W. Adorno’s 1953 analysis of the Los Angeles Times’ astrological advice column. Neurotic compulsiveness, Adorno there maintains, is intrinsic to the astrological pattern itself: one believes he has to obey some highly systematized orders without, however, any manifest intercon- nection between the system and himself. In astrology as in compulsive neurosis, one has to keep very strictly to some rule, command, or advice without ever being able to say why. It is just this “blindness” of obedience which seems to be fused with the overwhelming and frightening power of the command. In as much as the stars as viewed in astrology form an intricate system of do’s and don’t’s, this system seems to be the projection of a compulsive system itself.4 Adorno’s commitment to rational transparency makes him particu- larly sensitive to the dangers inherent in astrological unreason. The space between the system of astral influences and the petit-bourgeois Los Angeles newspaper reader is incomprehensible, and so Adorno’s sociological perspective can locate only neurotic compulsion there. By contrast, the navigational use of the night sky would seem to remain entirely within the reasonable control of the autonomous sailor. As passive guides to orientation, constellations no longer mediate the mythological space of occult influences but have immigrated entirely into the geometric space of the modern universe. Kant’s famous concluding period from The Critique of Practical Reason on the wonder inspired by the starry heavens—a text that now adorns 4Theodor Adorno, The Stars Down to Earth, in Gesammelte Schriften, vol. 9.2, ed. Rolf Tiedemann (Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp, 1997) 52. 476 JameS mcFarland his grave in Kaliningrad—makes no mention of constellations. As befits the great Enlightener, it is resolutely the order of the Coperni- can universe, its “worlds beyond worlds and systems of systems”5 that gives rise to admiration and awe. Constellations can exemplify nothing for Kant but the contingency of the empirical, however useful they might be to the disorientated sailor on the featureless ocean. This is the implication of the one place where Kant does mention them, in the small but fascinating essay from 1786, “What is Orientation in Thinking?” There, “Sternbilder,” constellations, appear in the course of an argument in favor of an irreducible subjective aspect orientating objective knowledge of the world. Thus, in spite of all the objective data in the sky, I orientate myself geographi- cally purely by means of a subjective distinction; and if all the constellations, while in other respects retaining the same shape and the same position in relation to each other, were one day miraculously transposed so that their former easterly direction now became west, no human eye would notice the slightest change on the next clear [sternhellen] night, and even the astronomer, if he heeded only what he saw and not at the same time what he felt, would inevitably become disorientated. But in fact, the ability to make distinctions by means of the feeling of right and left comes quite naturally to his aid—an ability which, though implanted by nature, has become a habit as a result of frequent practice; and if he simply directs his eyes to the Pole Star, he will not only notice the change which has occurred, but will still be able to orientate himself in spite of it.6 The argument draws a clear distinction between the spatial relations holding among the elements of a perceptual situation and a more fundamental orientation anchored in the perceiving subject. Because formal spatial relations are inherently reversible, it makes no sense to imagine that they are intrinsically orientated without reference to an irreversible instance. The orientation left/right only has meaning with respect to a situated awareness to which the spatial relationships among phenomena—North, West, South, East—present themselves. Kant introduces this argument and identifies this geographic orienta- tion only in order to develop it toward a notion of logical orientation in thought by means of heuristically accepted regulative ideas. “Finally, I can extend this concept [i.e. orientation] even further if I equate it 5Kant, Kritik der praktischen Vernunft, 162 [A289]; Critique of Practical Reason, 166. 6Immanuel Kant, “Was heißt: Sich im Denken orientiren?,” in Kants Werke: Akademie- Textausgabe, Abhandlungen nach 1781, vol. 8 (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 1968) 135; “What is Orientation in Thinking?,” in Kant: Political Writings, ed. Hans Reiss, trans. H. B. Nisbet (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991) 239. 477m l n with the ability to orientate oneself not just in space, i.e. mathemati- cally, but also in thought, i.e. logically.”7 This generalization of the sense of orientation rests on Kant’s view of transcendental subjectiv- ity as the source of both the transcendental intuitions that structure perceptual Verstand and the transcendental ideas that orientate the reflective use of pure Vernunft. For Kant, then, the notion of orienta- tion can be taken to operate without any immediate reference to the existence of objects in the world. Reason in both its theoretical and practical employments is orientated by its inherent need to proceed in accordance with certain principles, and in particular to assume as a regulative hypothesis the existence of a Highest Being. Thus, the key element in Kant’s geographical analogy is the singular Pole Star, corresponding to that Highest Being, and not the inverted, disorien- tating constellations. It is with respect to the Pole Star that an inherent sense of right and left appears. But where for Kant this example merely evokes in the sensory realm the general situation of transcendental reason in the noumenal domain of human freedom, for Martin Heidegger, return- ing to this discussion in 1927, this spatial orientation is itself already evidence of an irreducible existential situation. In his discussion of the spatiality of Dasein in Being and Time, Heidegger finds in this pre- liminary moment in Kant’s argument an unintended indication not of the impulse of that reason that is transcendental subjectivity but of the existential “Being-in” that conditions Dasein before any quantitative notion of extension. “The a priori of directionality in terms of right and left, however, is grounded in the ‘subjective’ a priori of being- in-the-world, which has nothing to do with a determinate character restricted beforehand to a worldless subject,” he says there.8 The alternative implications the word “constellation” provokes between astrology in a space manifesting occult influences and navigation in a space subordinated to geometric calculation is thus not entirely congruent with a distinction between irrationalism and rationalism. Navigational orientation already requires a supplement— whether transcendentally subjective, as in Kant, or existentially fun- damental, as in Heidegger—for the rationally transparent domain of objective spatial relationships. By way of the notion of orientation, the notion of a constellation raises the category of space itself as a 7Kant, “Was heißt: Sich im Denken orientiren?,” 136; “What is Orientation in Think- ing?,” 239. 8Martin Heidegger, Sein und Zeit (Tübingen: Max Niemeyer Verlag, 2006) 110; Being and Time, trans. Joan Stambaugh (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1996) 102. 478 JameS mcFarland philosophical problem. The contrast between Kantian a priori trans- cendentalism and Heideggerian fundamental ontology suggests, both historically and within the tradition of philosophical reflection, that the appropriate locus for an inquiry into this problem is the transcen- dental phenomenology of Edmund Husserl. III. The question of space and spatiality is not merely one challenge among others to phenomenological descriptive procedures. “Despite all the antagonistic motifs which animate phenomenology, space’s privilege therein is in certain respects remarkable,” Derrida writes in his introduction to Husserl’s Origin of Geometry.9 Clearly the question of space in its vast phenomenological generality is closely connected to the status of geometry, but this ought not lead us to conflate the two issues. The question of space inhabits the foundations of Hus- serl’s philosophy. Phenomenology emerges ultimately into the sea of temporality; temporal finitude is the horizon of its account of the world. But this priority of temporal finitude is achieved precisely by overcoming the spatial intuitions involved in our understanding of the world. The first extended analysis that Husserl conducts under the rubric of the “phenomenological reduction” is an exhaustive investigation of spatial perception, preserved in the 1907 lectures titled Thing and Space.10 These discussions present a patient reconstruction of spatial awareness of a physical environment on the basis of immediately avail- able contents of consciousness. “We will refrain from any judgment about real existence,” Husserl summarizes the method; “our world is, so to speak, the world of absolute givens, absolute indubitabilities, the world of ‘phenomena,’ of ‘essences,’ in short, what is unaffected by the positing of real existence or nonexistence” (DR 140). Because he begins from the subjective immediacy of sensory awareness, Husserl’s reconstruction proceeds toward a complete account of spatial possibil- ity through various distinct stages of increasing complexity, each of 9Jacques Derrida, Edmund Husserl’s Origin of Geometry: An Introduction, trans. John P. Leavey, Jr. (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1978) 83. 10Edmund Husserl, Ding und Raum: Vorlesungen 1907, eds. Karl-Heinz Hahnengress and Smail Rapic (Hamburg: Felix Meiner Verlag, 1991). Translated as Thing and Space: Lectures of 1907 by Richard Rojcewicz (Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1997); hereafter cited in the text as DR with the page number of the German edition, which the published English translation also provides marginally. 479m l n which is formally infinite but all of which are orientated toward an ultimate “objectity” (Objektität) whose unity is secured by the unity of consciousness itself. Starting with the simplest epistemological situa- tion, the direct unmoving perception of a static, unchanging physical body, Husserl systematically develops the notion first of a coherent visual field within which the objective thing is a principally unending virtual series of inevitably partial perceptions. To this he then adds the system of kinesthetic sensations that identify changes in the observing position itself. Together these then constitute a higher-order oculo- motor field, whose perspectival coherence allows for an elaboration sufficient to account for the lateral movement of elements within the perceived environment. To this still essentially two-dimensional abstraction, Husserl then introduces systems of regular expansion and contraction of bounded surfaces, which serve to reveal the relative position in three-dimensional space of the “Ego-point” (Ich-Punkt). “Only when expansion [Dehnung] is added do we have the full pre- sentational material capable of presenting space” (DR 238). The order of nouns in Husserl’s title—Thing, Space—thus accurately reflects the conceptual position of space in this theoretical elabora- tion; not, as with Kant, an a priori geometric space as a simple intuitive condition that is subsequently occupied by conceptually substantive things—not Space, then Things—but rather things as systems of intentional perceptual regularities with objective space as the ultimate framework that accommodates all their conceivable permutations. Space in this theory becomes a hypothetical order of virtual locales, the unchanging “system of places” (Ortssystem) (DR 183 et passim) of an infinite number of potential realizations, only some of which are ever actualized in qualitative conscious perceptions. As the implicit, infinite host of the ultimate unity of irreducibly subjective and finite perceptions, space is no longer a simple medium but rather a barely conceivable virtual space whose perceptual precipitate in conscious- ness is the actual environment we experience.To the contemporary reader, Husserl’s account recalls nothing so much as a description of the simulations of three-dimensional environments from a first-person perspective generated by graphical computer programs, the results of computational algorithms at work in computer games and flight simulators, for instance. Such algorithms project bounded chromatic changes on a stationary screen in such ways as to create for the user the appearance of localized movement and rest of distinct objects in a space “beyond” or “behind” the screen, while the user’s input simultaneously creates global changes that mimic shifts in the observ- 480 JameS mcFarland ing perspective, of the screen as a framing boundary. The former images are comparable to what Husserl calls the “image-continuum” (DR 187 et passim) intended by conscious perceptual acts; the latter, user-initiated, changes correspond to Husserl’s “motivating kinesthetic series” (DR 190 et passim). The analogy is perilous, of course, because the computer screen and the user-controls are themselves objects in space, while in Husserl’s account neither the visual field nor the kinesthetic conditions affecting it are to be understood as spatial but as conscious acts that together signify spatiality. Yet the comparison can perhaps help to clarify the fundamental difference between the independent movement of persistent things intended as self-identical by consciousness and the perspectival alterations introduced by our own voluntary eye- and body-movements. This basic distinction between the “K-series” of kinesthetic changes and the “b-series” of geometrically-coherent images is the fault-line in Husserl’s early account. His phenomenologically-reduced starting-point precludes any axiomatic distinction between inside and outside when accounting for the space of physical things. Things are not “out there” in any ultimate exterior; nor, as consciously perceptual intensions, do they concede any ultimate status to psychic interiority. Husserl imagines the patterns of comprehensible abstraction implied by the continuities and discontinuities in immediate perceptual experience as systems of virtual intensions radiating throughout a logical matrix. Within this matrix, physical things are nothing more than the limits at which certain of these intensions converge on posited persistent identities, limits whose identical persistence consists in turn in nothing more than the validating realizations of the conscious intensions that accommodate them in a continuously unfolding experiential flux. The logical matrix of phenomenal intentionality manifests the exteriority of space as the operative distinction between the variety displayed by a series of visual impressions and the sorts of alterations introduced into that variety that correlate with a series of kinesthetic sensations. These two aspects of spatial perception are thus intimately con- nected, since any kinesthetic change must be reflected in changes in the visual field. But as Husserl insists, the two sorts of series cannot be correlated at the level of individual essences, since in principle any kinesthetic position could be linked to any visual field (DR 170). Nor do they have comparable functions, since the kinesthetic sensations, not being about themselves in an intentional sense, exhibit merely temporal continuities, while the visual impressions are always providing new content. Thus the phenomenological correlation between possible 481m l n systems of kinesthetic sensations and possible configurations of the visual field can only be described at the global level: that correlation is the infinitude of the oculomotor field. The correlation between a series of kinesthetic motivations and a series of alterations in the visual field becomes meaningful to philo- sophical reflection only to the extent that it can be reversed in thought. A certain field of images, filled in such and such a way, is given together with every kinesthetic complex; and a determinate change of the field of images is given with every determinate change of the kinesthetic complex, always presupposing that we still have to do with the constitution of a stationary Object and field of Objects that are unchanging in other respects as well. Every return of K, K’ [the simultaneous arrangement of kinesthetic sensa- tions], etc., into the old constellation produces the same field of images, thus the reversal of the kinesthetic sequences also produces a reversal in the sequences of images, both always in temporal coincidence. (DR 201) This reversibility in theory and not its approximation in actual expe- riences is what frees the analysis from any commitment to a realized content, whose identity is just the perfect synthesis of these two pro- cesses. The conceptual possibility of inverting the oculomotor consti- tution of the spatial thing without disturbing the correlation between its heterogeneous components maintains in abstraction their distinct contributions. No determinate correlation of kinesthetic motivations and visual experiences need be assumed, but merely that where a given correlation is posited, the same visual field would attend the same “constellation” of kinesthetic sensations were it to return. It is this reversibility that characterizes the logically-relevant uniformities in spatial experience. In the accumulation and elapsing of the kinesthetic series, the strictly ordered complexes of images in the field undergo, concomitantly, unitary as well as typically and strictly determined sequences and reverse sequences of modifications. These modifications are unitary for the individual images but are also unitary for the figural constellations of the images, for their ordered context. (DR 216) The virtual correlation, then, between the constellation of simulta- neous corporeal sensations and the constellation of diverse visual experience is space itself. Therefore this motivated unity of the modifications belongs essentially to the constitution of something identical, and it is the unity of the modi- fications that concern the ordered context [Ordnungszusammenhang], or constellations of places [Lagenkonstellationen] which are founded by means 482 JameS mcFarland of the images and which allow them to be grasped as unified complexes. Likewise, this unity pertains to those constellations of places which affect every individual image and which are founded in its distinguishable pieces. In the consciousness of unity that penetrates these modifications of the ordered contexts, the order of space is constituted. (DR 217) The word “constellation” here—characterizing sometimes the simulta- neous arrangement of corporeal sensations and at others the immedi- ate diversity of visual experience—is no terminus technicus. Rather, it appears when the theoretical limits of a resolutely abstracted spatial experience are encountered in any direction. And in the constella- tion of places that underlies the manifestation of objective identities, Husserl labels the most general dimension of spatial abstraction phenomenology can reach. IV. Near the very end of Thing and Space a problem emerges almost as an afterthought: What are the implications for the conception of an objective space exposed to kinematic change when the entire frame of reference is in motion, as when an observer sees the passing landscape from the window of a moving vehicle? When we sit in a moving car, Husserl notes, our kinesthetic impressions are at rest, while our visual field presents motion outside ourselves. “In the first place, stationary kinesthetic states, connected to stationary images, motivate station- ary Objects [Objektruhe]. Here I have a stationary kinesthetic state connected to moving images of the surroundings and to stationary images of the car and of my Body. Yet this does precisely not mean that the surroundings move but, on the contrary, that they are station- ary. And it does not mean that I am stationary but that I move (am moved)” (DR 282). Husserl analyses this by comparing the situation to one in which I move independently alongside the moving car, that is, in which my own perceptual situation is simply movement within a stable frame of reference, and my stable perception of the moving car is easily explained. Then, the kinesthetic impressions associated with this separated situation are vicariously replaced by the corporeal vibrations and sounds typical of being in a moving car. This ad hoc solution to the problem of movement of the frame of reference testifies to the fact that Husserl does not see this complication in the relation of kinesthesia to visual alteration as particularly significant. “To be sure, we must note, however, that the title of kinesthetic motivation also includes, in part, very different series, ones which can appear vicariously for one another” (DR 283). 483m l n Twenty-seven extremely disorientating years later this problem of the movement of an entire frame of reference has grown to be immense. Far from concerning only a marginal complication in an atypical per- ceptual situation, the relation of an absolutely stationary experiential frame of reference to the knowledge that it is in relative motion poses a challenge to science itself. Astronomy at least since Copernicus has taught us that the earth beneath our feet is in fact only “one of the stars in the infinite space of the world [Weltraum].” We know it to be a moveable body (Körper) but experience it as an immovable ground (Boden), the ground presupposed by any concept of rest and motion. How can the connection between these incompatible perspectives on spatial experience be reconciled? This is the problem to which Hus- serl addresses himself in the late rumination from 1934, Foundational Investigations of the Phenomenological Origin of the Spatiality of Nature.11 The discussion is fragmentary and private, closer to a worksheet than a lecture. In the course of clarifying the difference between the “rest” at issue in the presupposed “earth-ground” (Erdboden) and the relative motion and rest characteristic of the perceived world, Husserl returns to the example of the moving train. No doubt the perceptual inversions of rest and motion created when we look out of the window require us to rectify them on the basis of our general understanding of the situation. “But all of this is nonetheless directly referred to the ground of all relative ground-bodies, to the earth-ground” (RN 312). The absolute rest implicit in the earth as foundation cannot be understood by analogy with the spurious rest experienced on the moving train, but is presupposed by that very understanding, as the ultimate reference-point permitting such rest and motion to be untangled. “The earth itself in the original shape of its representa- tions does not move or rest, only in relation to it do movement and rest have a sense” (RN 309). Throughout these reflections, Husserl struggles to retain a terres- trial sense of Boden. We conceive of the earth as a moveable star by analogy with the extraterrestrial stars we see at night. But we could 11Edmund Husserl, “Grundlegende Untersuchungen zum phänomenologischen Ursprung der Räumlichkeit der Natur,” in Philosophical Essays in Memory of Edmund Husserl, ed. Marvin Farber (New York: Greenwood Press, 1968) 307–25. Translated as “Foundational Investigations of the Phenomenological Origin of the Spatiality of Nature: The Originary Ark, the Earth, Does Not Move” by Fred Kersten and Leonard Lawlor, in Maurice Merleau-Ponty, Husserl at the Limits of Phenomenology. Including Texts by Edmund Husserl, eds. Leonard Lawlor and Bettina Bergo (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 2002); hereafter cited in the text as RN with page numbers from the original German, which are provided in the margins of the published translation. The quotations above are on page 308. 484 JameS mcFarland certainly imagine a situation in which direct experience presented us with no heavenly bodies. “Indeed, in fog they are invisible” (RN 322). We would have no astrophysics in the ordinary sense in which it developed in actual history, but supposing the invisible stars to be there, our eventual understanding of gravitation and movement could allow us to detect them and so to come to the same conclusion about the earth as we in fact have reached. Physics as science would not be affected by this change. But such an alternate history would nonetheless change the apodictic givenness of the earth-ground that underlies actual humanity. In fact the human view of space emerged from a terrestrial perspective that traced the movement of the stars at the limit of its experience. We can imagine different histories—a starless history, or one that took place on two worlds, each serving as ground for an experience of the other (“but what do two earths mean? Two fragments of one earth with one humanity” (RN 318)). Each of these might have come to our contemporary understanding by various paths. But we cannot simply imagine that our current understanding of space and our position in it is the ultimate horizon for these mat- ters. If we are to preserve the openness for future discoveries, we must remain able to re-experience the emergence of our contemporary view of space from the original experiences that brought spatiality to us in the first place. Where the current status of our knowledge obliter- ates the memory of what originally informed it, then simultaneously it obliterates the possibility of its vital continuation. It is because the human adventure is actually occurring around us and opens onto a radically unprecedented future that the actual historical emergence of our understanding must not be forgotten. It is in this sense—in the sense that the earth is the name for the common history and current relevance of all humanity—that the earth does not move. “There is only one humanity and one earth—all the fragments which are or have been separated from it belong to it. But if this is the case, need we say with Galileo: par si muove? And not on the contrary: it does not move?” (RN 324). At the end of Husserl’s philosophical career, a career in which phenomenology becomes less and less a method of abstraction and more and more an invitation to reflection, in which the functional importance of interpersonal trans- parency and potential cooperation only grows, Husserl reencounters the ancient cosmos in which the constellations were first at home. The pathos of these final reflections, composed by an old philosopher so recently stripped of the academic privileges his lifelong efforts had earned him and confronting an ever more rapidly disintegrating 485m l n European culture can be heard in the insistent motif of the Founda- tional Investigations: “The earth is for all the same earth” (RN 315). It has had one history. It will have one future. And not even physics or geometry has yet written it in the stars. Vanderbilt University 
work_esgnaxnu4feobk4hcxsun2e7je	----	Microsoft Word - ES 24-2013 DEFINIITIVO.docx Submission: 01/12/2012- Acceptance: 30/04/2013 ES 34 (2013): 227-244 SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE IN MARY ANN SHADD’S WRITINGS Mª del Rosario Piqueras Fraile Universidad Autónoma de Madrid From the very first it has been the educated and intelligent of the Negro people that have led and elevated the mass, and the sole obstacles that nullified and retarded their efforts were slavery and race prejudice. W.E.B. Du Bois (“The Talented Tenth”) Abstract The first literary use of the term self- reliance noted by the Oxford English Dictionary was by the English social critic and reformer Harriet Martineau –though Ralph Waldo Emerson had been using the term for several years. In Society in America (1837)– she observed the destructive influence of socially approved gender stereotypes, declaring, “Women are, as might be anticipated, weak, ignorant and subservient, in as far as they exchange self-reliance for reliance on anything out of themselves.” This is Resumen El primer uso literario del término autoconfianza que aparece registrado en el English Oxford Dictionary fue el de la reformista social Harriet Martineau –aunque ya Ralph Waldo Emerson lo había empleado durante años. En Society in America (1837)– Harriet observó la influencia destructiva de los estereotipos de género afirmando que “las mujeres son, como podía esperarse, débiles, ignorantes y serviles, en la medida en que equivocan el término autoconfianza por el de confianza en cualquier cosa excepto Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 228 not the case with Mary Ann Shadd, who was a highly controversial figure in her time. Both the expressions Trust yourself and Avoid conformity, which are repeated themes in authors like Emerson, and Integration in the double context of gender and race constitute the main points in Shadd’s arguments. In this essay, I will attempt to get to the point that as well as for Emerson, self-reliance was the starting point for Mary Ann Shadd’s idea to achieve independence. For the former, intellectual and moral independence, for the latter total human independence from the whites. Nevertheless, and not underestimating Emerson, this article has drawn attention to Mary Ann Shadd, who overcame many obstacles and craved for the harmony between blacks and whites. Keywords: self-reliance, independence, integration, gender, race, harmony. en ellas mismas.” Sin embargo, éste no es el caso de Mary Ann Shadd, figura muy controvertida en su tiempo. Las expresiones Confía en ti mismo y Evita el conformismo, repetidos temas en autores como Emerson e Integración en el doble contexto de raza y género, constituyen los puntos principales en su argumento. En este ensayo, intentaré llegar a la conclusión de que, igual que para Emerson, la autosuficiencia era para Mary Ann Shadd el elemento de partida para conseguir ser independiente. Para aquél una independencia moral e intelectual, para Mary Ann una independencia total de la raza blanca. No obstante, y sin ánimo de infravalorar a Emerson, este trabajo se centra en Mary Ann Shadd y en su deseo de armonía entre las dos razas. Palabras clave: autoconfianza, independencia, integración, género, raza, armonía. I The quote in the title of this article, “Self-reliance is the true road to independence” is from the paper which served as Mary Ann Shadd’s voice and in which she worked as editor and reporter, The Provincial Freeman. She was the first black woman publisher in North America and the first woman publisher in Canada. To a certain extent such a personality as Mary Ann’s was certainly not typical of a nineteenth century woman as she constantly transgressed the limits of respectability allowed to women, especially to black women. For this reason, she was regarded as a strange, controversial woman and she knew it.1 She had a strong personality and was determined to be heard when defending her ideas confronting male authority. It is no accident that having been born a free mulatto imprinted a special something on Mary 1 The reformer’s life of grinding stress –with its endurance of public invective, notoriety and physical danger– was the life she chose […] and she chose it knowingly” (Bearden and Butler 1977:17). SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 229 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 Ann’s personality, whose life and way of thinking and behaving can be more fully understood in light of her privileged position as an educated black woman, a fact widely considered in the vast bibliography about her, so ample that any general or detailed critical revision is out of the scope of this article. It is precise to clarify here that until recently, Mary Ann Shadd, a teacher, political activist, journalist and lawyer, has been one of the least studied nineteenth century black activists. Nevertheless, the shallow approach to the study of Jane Rhodes’s The Black Press and Protest in the Nineteenth Century (1998) provides significant background of the black activist politics in the United States and Canada and Shadd’s own personal struggles as an educated black woman to carve out a place for herself.2 In the first place, the move of all her family from Delaware, where she was born and where slavery had not been abolished, to Pennsylvania, a free state where Mary Ann attended a Quaker school in West Chester, was essential in her life due to the support for the abolitionist cause and women’s rights given by Quakers. In the second place, the fact that her father firmly believed in education as the basis for advancement and progress in life helped to shape her personality, and indeed her father insisted on the pressing need to educate his people considering the idea of returning to Africa, as many activists had in mind, as a backward step in their advancement. And finally, politically and ideologically speaking, the Shadd family was clearly linked to the reformist and abolitionist movement, taking an active part in the discussions in antislavery circles. In short, Mary Ann Shadd enjoyed a privileged position due to the pale brown color of her skin, her education and her financial situation but she greatly suffered from both the racial and the sexual discrimination prevailing in her time. As stated, recent scholarship has claimed a place for Mary Ann Shadd within the community of nineteenth-century black women activists but despite a growing body of literature, we still know far too little about her. Her name does not resonate with popular recognition as other famous nineteenth-century black women like Harriet Tubman or Sojourner Truth. She and her contemporaries, Frances Ellen Watkins Harper, Charlotte Forten, and Sarah Parker Remond, were freeborn, educated and thoroughly European in their outlook and in their bearing. As Nell Painter notes (1990:10), these women forced whites to reevaluate their stereotypes about black women because they lacked the otherness (emphasis in the original) that made a figure like Truth such a hero. Shadd’s is a tale less of bravery or cunning, and more a narrative of tenacity striving for social change under difficult circumstances. Jane Rhodes, in the introduction of her book (1998) claims that one of the reasons for Mary Ann not to be so well known may be the fact that scholarly 2 For a detailed account of Mary Ann Shadd’s life, see Sadlier (1985), Bearden and Butler (1977) and Ferris (2003). Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 230 attention to Shadd first emerged out of interest in the Afro-Canadian experience. And this could be true as, for example, in this way Alexander Murray in his article (1959) refers only to the newspapers specifically conceived for black people in Canada, The Voice of the Fugitive and The Provincial Freeman. Besides, Shadd’s published and unpublished writings during the pre-and post-Canadian periods are incomplete and scattered through several archival collections. Nevertheless, Mary Ann Shadd left behind a collection of writings that holds up a mirror to her life and her political ideas. Besides, we can trace interest in Shadd to several references in women’s history texts that sought to identify significant black pioneers. In this way, some of the contemporary discussion about Mary Ann Shadd originated with a biographical essay written by her daughter, Sarah Cary Evans, in 1926. Generally speaking, one might say a true life does not exist when one’s actions do not correspond with the things one believes in. What were Mary Ann’s beliefs? What was, for her, the real extent of a true life, a life worth living? In the present work I will attempt to show Mary Ann Shadd’s idea of a true life, her idea of self-reliance and what was for her the best way for integrating black people into a white society. Of course her initial vitality and hope wanes with the passing of time and with her realizing of the impossibility to see her dream fulfilled in a short term. Nevertheless, all her work proves that never in her entire life did she abandon her creed on a much better future for her people. Throughout this paper I will use the terms integration, self-reliance and independence interchangeably; that is, the three terms seem to be highly relevant for the historical context in which, on the one hand, skin colour was the primary determinant for one’s status in the world; and, on the other, we can probably find the finest 19th century defence of the ideal of individualism in Ralph Waldo Emerson's “Self-Reliance.” The connection between these two people when referring to self reliance is quite deep. Therefore, in the next section I intend to focus on Mary Ann Shadd’s ideas and try to shed some light on the influences she might have had throughout her life including Emerson himself. Firstly, like many social critics, Emerson blames others for failing to live up to, or appreciate the importance of their own ideals; Mary Ann Shadd blames her own people, who wishing to avoid problems and conflicts, lived apart from the whites. Emerson saw the conspiracy of the group versus individuality as an omnipresent threat to the proper development of the human personality. The success resides in the individual who has the courage to think matters through for himself; a person whose intellectual independence enables him to surpass the most sublime achievements. Emerson was known for his repeated use of the phrase trust thyself; “Self-Reliance” is his explanation –both systematic and passionate– of what he meant by this and of why he was moved to make it his catch- phrase. Every individual possesses a unique genius, Emerson argues, that can only be SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 231 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 revealed when that individual has the courage to trust his or her own thoughts, attitudes, and inclinations against all public disapproval. So, what Emerson entails with the term self-reliance is, among other elements, self-trust. The integration of black people into the white community depends, in part, for Mary Ann, on the black people and their trust on themselves (emphasis mine). Secondly, apart from what has been already stated, both share another important idea: conformism leads to dissatisfaction in life as it is the major obstacle to self-reliance. Emerson and Shadd’s philosophies reside on optimism and hope. The responsibility extends to all living beings, and is therefore, the basis for a moral and ethical philosophy of universal respect and value. They are advocates of freedom –we must not forget here that Emerson supported movements for the abolition of slavery and the enfranchisement of women, at a time when such movements were not particularly popular– Self- reliance is then, for them, a reliance on one’s own resources as opposed to dependence on others. The idea emerges from a belief that one is capable of self- guidance. Therefore, self-reliance means for both courage and enthusiasm. Their message is to follow one’s own dreams. Obviously, it is an idealistic and optimistic message for black people at that time and in this way in the last section, I will mainly concentrate on the fact that despite her efforts and her creed on a perfect life for black people in Canada as explained in A Plea for Emigration or Notes of Canada West (1998 (1852)), Mary Ann Shadd was unable to cope with a complete satisfactory solution. And so her optimism withers at the end of the book when she refers to the prejudices against black people living in Canada as open manifestations of racism became very common. As Mary Ann was too restless to watch the developments in Reconstruction America from a distance and her options in Canada were dismal, she moved to the United States where this active woman still had to surprise us greatly. II When one explores the layers of meaning of self-reliance, integration and independence, one realizes that, among other things, they are the very essential and inherent aspects in anyone’s life and in the future of a country. It is a matter of humanity. Therefore, if independence, integration and self-reliance apply to any person, how could black people, according to Mary Ann, be independent, self- reliant and be like whites? According to her, blacks had to take three important steps if they wanted to reach complete freedom: education, independence and self- sufficiency. And the fact that these three issues are so closely interconnected and linked to the idea of integration permits us to explore the disillusionments she had at the end of her life. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 232 Undoubtedly, the issue of education is clearly connected with black people’s progress for mostly black abolitionists –see among others Booker T. Washington– who taught many blacks “how to improve their lives by cleanliness, industry, thrift, diversified farming, painting and mending, family budgeting, and better planning” (Toppin 1971:139). Indeed, Booker T. Washington urged black people to temporarily abandon their efforts to win full civil rights and political power and instead to cultivate their industrial and farming skills so as to first attain economic security. Labour is the motto for him as well as for Mary Ann and not directly challenging the social institutions that caused oppression and injustice. However, there is a distinct difference in his point of view with respect to Mary Ann Shadd’s. Although according to his ideas the eventual acquisition of wealth and culture by black people would gradually earn them the respect and acceptance of the white community, they would accept segregation and discrimination, a point which was not acceptable for Mary Ann Shadd. And indeed, Mary Ann saw, just to cite an example, the opportunity of establishing an integrated school in Canada for both blacks and whites –that was her idea of living with whites as equals. Besides, her idea of self-reliance made her pupils pay for their education as in this way they could appreciate this great gift. As far as we know she wanted to establish a pattern of autonomy and self-sufficiency as soon as she set foot on Canadian soil. And so, in her view, long-term survival means short-term sacrifice. Nevertheless, she encountered some difficulties that hindered her dream from coming true, blaming her own people in part. Surprisingly, Mary Ann Shadd had the opportunity to have access to some kind of education and become a teacher. This was an exceptional fact as she was one of the very few black women to receive it, unlike the majority of the black people of her time who received no education at all.3 Black people were constantly excluded from public schools so their education was either up to them or up to white philanthropists: “Many efficient persons have devoted their time and talents to their instruction” (Shadd 1998 (1852):67). However, she criticized begging for charity from the whites who apparently wanted to help instruct blacks: Individuals in the United States often send books to those most needy, yet they are usually of such a character as to be utterly useless. I have often thought if it is really a benevolent act to send old almanacs, old novels, and all manner of obsolete books to them, what good purpose was accomplished, or even what sort of vanity was gratified, by emptying the useless contents of old libraries on destitute fugitives? (Shadd 1998 (1852):67) 3 “Mary Ann was one of the fortunate few black women who had a good education, and her family expected much of her” (Ferris 2003:13). SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 233 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 But, as Rhodes has claimed (1998:42) the Refugee Home Society’s supporters4 saw nothing wrong in seeking donations and considered Shadd’s position hypocritical since she was being supported financially, in part, for her integrated school, by white philanthropy through the American Missionary Association which was founded to supply the needs of black Canadian people. Education then was for Shadd the first step to be self-reliant, the key factor which would help blacks to change their deplorable situation. And indeed, she had this idea in mind when she started teaching. The analysis of her teaching career is something that is out of the scope of this article, but, nevertheless, it is worth pointing out some key facts necessary to understand her disappointments with people of her race. After graduating in Pennsylvania she felt audacious enough to move back to Wilmington (Delaware) to open a school for black children as there was still no public education available to blacks there. It was at least partially through Mary Ann’s hard work that by 1844 “Wilmington took steps to insure an education for the free black children of that city” (Bearden and Butler 1977:19). Then, she started teaching in several cities like Trenton, New Jersey and New York City. Her experiences in these various locations were not always positive as when she wrote to her family on one occasion, implying that the black people of Trenton were less than grateful for her efforts (Shadd 1998 (1852):13). Later on, in Windsor (Canada) she got disappointed when Henry Bibb, a black reformist and the editor of the paper for which she wrote some articles, The Voice of the Fugitive, suggested that instead of creating a private school for whites and blacks together she should petition the government for a public black school. The answer to his suggestion was immediate and so in a meeting with her students’ parents she said: “If they wanted an exclusive school I would not teach for them (emphasis in the original) (Bearden and Butler 1977:35). Of course, for an exclusive school everybody had in mind a school only for blacks, obviously a different idea to an integrated education as part of a complete integration in a white society; but without doubt white children were very unlikely to come to her private school. Nevertheless, her ideas can be more fully understood in the light of her relationship with the non-conformist movement and reformist activities of the time. In fact, Abraham Shadd, Mary Ann’s father, was very important for her in many respects and helped to shape her personality as he was an activist reformer who participated in many antislavery meetings and speeches with whom in her early life Mary Ann made her way. As a matter of fact, he was a conductor of the Underground 4 This was a black society founded for the help of slaves who had settled in Canada, project in which Henry Bibb was a key player and an important and significant person for Mary Ann’s career. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 234 Railroad, the clandestine system of routes and safe-houses through which slaves were led to freedom in the north; even their household was a station, as Delaware was ideally situated in the escape route. Historically speaking, some prominent figures took part in this antislavery movement. The American transcendentalist, par excellence, and abolitionist H. D. Thoreau (1817-1862) helped to speed fleeing slaves north and served as a conductor himself and therefore could help to escaped slaves make their way to Canada. In fact, his famous political essay “Civil Disobedience” was, according to McElroy (2009), the response to his imprisonment that happened in July 1846 when he declined to pay a poll tax which contributed to the support of slavery. Also to be sure, his philosophical ally, friend and mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson himself became involved in social reform movements, especially anti-slavery and women’s rights. When he believed that his hero, Daniel Webster, had betrayed public trust by supporting “the Fugitive Slave Law” of 1850, he attacked him publicly, helped hide runaway slaves and spoke out openly for the abolitionist cause. These two figures, Thoreau and Emerson were crucial in Mary Ann Shadd’s life and way of thinking. Actually, Mary Ann Shadd and Emerson shared some ideas but also differ in some respects. Both urged their people to take pride of them and confide in their own inner voice and in not being afraid of expressing their own ideas. Both urged the individual to be a risk-taker. Emerson believed in the intellectual and moral independence of the human being but a great effort was considered to be made as he explained in “Self-Reliance” in 1841: I do not need or want the approval of other men. What I believe I should do is what concerns me, not what other people think I should do. Of course, it is not easy to follow your own inner voice, for there are always those who will try to make you conform to the public will. He believed in individualism, non-conformity, and above all, the need for harmony between man and nature as expressed in Nature in 1836: The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right. Yet it is certain that the power to produce this delight, does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. It is necessary to use these pleasures with great temperance. For, nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit. To a man laboring under calamity, the heat of his own fire hath sadness in it. SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 235 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 Then, there is a kind of contempt of the landscape felt by him who has just lost by death a dear friend. The sky is less grand as it shuts down over less worth in the population. In this respect, these two authors differ. While Mary Ann believed in the integration of black people with the whites, Emerson believed in the individual integration with nature, leaving the human society apart. He realised the importance of the spiritual inner self over the material external self. She liked to make decisions for herself and for her people; she liked to be self-reliant, as Emerson, and wanted her people to be self-reliant too. Knowledge is the key point in her theory. And also, her main rule of behaviour is that black people must be non-conformists. Nevertheless, Mary Ann Shadd thinks that although free, black people should go ahead in getting integrated with the rest of human beings and not be isolated as some others think they should be, like the transcendentalist Emerson as he tells people that “to go into solitude man needs to retire as much from his chamber as from society.”5 Mary Ann Shadd’s goal –to establish a place for black people in the white American society– was extraordinarily difficult to achieve. She demanded that black people be worthy of their freedom by daring to be independent in their individual lives. And so with this idea in mind, in her essay “Hints to the Colored People of the North,” she advised black people that they should be independent doing things by themselves as having confidence in one’s self could bring success. With this piece of advice she launched a crusade against her people’s passiveness as Mary Ann urged her people to live within their means, an idea that shows her beliefs in black independence and the need for self-respect. It is necessary to take Mary Ann’s active personality into account in order to understand her ideas about passivity and servitude, reflected in her personal motto we should do more and speak less.6 Actually, this sentence summarizes her thoughts and comments appeared in the newspaper The North Star published by Frederick Douglass, a self-taught and self-emancipated black man where she published the above essay in 1849. Mary Ann Shadd’s message was overtly present in her works: “I firmly believe that with an axe and a little energy, an independent position would result in 5 Emerson opens Nature with this sentence. What he means is that to know stillness or quietness inside, you need to leave not only society behind but also all of the activities of your private world. He says if you want to know solitude get out and experience nature. 6 As Jane Rhodes has stated (1998:21) Mary Ann considered herself guilty of the lack of effectiveness: “We have been holding conventions for years-have been assembling together and whining over our difficulties and afflictions, passing resolutions to any extent; but it does really seem that we have made but little progress, considering our resolves”. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 236 a short period” (Shadd 1998 (1852):52). Independent in the way Shadd used the word had a double meaning: to do things by one’s self, but more importantly, independently of white people; the key was to teach people how to be self sufficient and that would surely lead to independence. In this way, in A Plea for Emigration or Notes of Canada West (1998 (1852)) she expressed that black people knew they could live without begging although there are some (very ignorant people), in Mary Ann’s phrase, who think differently. And so she includes, for this purpose, almost entirely a letter which was published in The Voice of the Fugitive in 1852, written by three people from Buxton from which we can point out the following words: The cry that has been often raised, that we could not support ourselves, is a foul slander […] Having lived many years in Canada, we hesitate not to say that all who are able and willing to work, can make a good living […] The boxes of clothing and barrels of provisions which have been sent in from time to time, by the praiseworthy, but misguided zeal of friends in the United States, have been employed to support the idle, who are too lazy to work, and who form but a small portion of the coloured population in Canada […] We wish the people of the United States to know that there is one portion of Canada West where the coloured people are self-supporting, and they wish them to send neither petticoat nor pantaloons […]. (Shadd 1998 (1852):83-4) It is clear from this letter that the opinions and behaviour of some Afro- Americans lacking a collective conscience and self-sufficiency exasperated those who were strongly fighting for improving their lives and so Mary Ann denounced it publicly in her works. As a matter of fact, as Shamina Sneed has pointed out (2002:7), Mary Ann Shadd defends action as the key element to improve the black race although for her “there was not always collective consciousness in the black community”. Unity is strength or united we stand divided we fall is the proverb that Mary Ann seemed to have in mind; if black people worked together anything would be possible, even if it was not like this. In this way, Mary Ann Shadd’s criticism is centered mainly on this part in all her work. For instance, she criticized the policy of the Refuge Home Society as, for example, once in Canada the black slaves had the opportunity through this society to buy some acres of land but free blacks were excluded: “[…] reference to a man’s birth, as free or slave, is generally made by coloured persons, should he not be as prosperous as his better-helped fugitive brethren” (Shadd 1998 (1852):71). Mary Ann Shadd explicitly addresses this issue when referring to the fact that free blacks were also being persecuted under the “Fugitive Slave Law” and should therefore be regarded in need of just as much help a fugitive slaves. In her view, the “Refugee Home Society” defeated the ideal of collective purpose and action by artificially dividing the black community. SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 237 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 Therefore, Shadd’s point is then to use the collective energy, skill and expertise of anybody who is willing to work under the guidelines of her project for the development of Afro-Americans into a global white society. She wanted to unite everyone’s skills to create a path toward self-determination that could help to build up their interest and integrate them as a whole community of people, blacks and whites together. That is, to move from slavery toward integration in mainstream –i.e. white at the time– society. But her anger stems from her sense of helplessness when she tries to convince her people. And indeed, while the achievement of most of her demands lay far in the future and rooted in a passionate devotion for her people and a belief in the possibility of self-sufficiency, Mary Ann Shadd believed that the longed-for freedom was not enough for her people. In her opinion, to be free was not only to have the privilege of not being in chains. Something had to be done not to depend on whites for every single thing. This personal statement was the leitmotif of a lifetime, being the starting point of a hard, long fight even against her race. She believed and fought for equality between blacks and whites, something which would be reached through education, independence and self-sufficiency. III Mary Ann Shadd had grown up amid the convention movement debates on emigration. This was, in fact, a controversial issue among the black politicians and thinkers of the time. The idea of searching for other territories to settle down far from the United States and the horrors of slavery was supported by some leading black figures like the Reverend Martin Delany who encouraged blacks to emigrate to the Niger Valley in Africa or Henry Highland Garnet, who in the late 1850s was President of the newly formed African Civilization Society, an organization that advocated a return of blacks to that continent. Others, such as Frederick Douglass, William Lloyd Garrison or Abraham Shadd defended the idea of remaining in The United States without even immigrating to Canada as Henry Bibb. In this way they proclaimed in The Liberator, the newspaper published by Garrison, in September, 1831: “We are natives of the United States […] we have our attachments to the soil, and we feel that we have rights in common with other Americans” (Rhodes 1998:12). Nevertheless the “Fugitive Slave Act” increased the number of blacks who fled to Canada. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 238 This Law, which imposed a $1.000 fine or six-month jail sentence to anyone who aided a runaway, was the impetus for Mary Ann Shadd’s emigration to Canada West; and her desire to offer succour and advice led her to write A Plea for Emigration or Notes of Canada West in 1851. Many emigrant guides have been accorded classic status in the realm of early Canadian literature; among them Susanna Moodle’s Roughing it in the Bush (1852) and Catharine Parr Traill’s The Canadian Settler’s Guide (1860). But Shadd’s A Plea for Emigration or Notes of Canada West sheds new, intriguing light on Canadian history and African-Canadian realities in the 19th century. In this book all her ideas, hopes and disillusionments are reflected so perfectly that it takes great part in Canadian history. The book praised Canada and encouraged black people to settle in this country and become self-sufficient, independent citizens. In fact, A Plea for Emigration or Notes on Canada West may be considered as a travel guide in the sense that Mary Ann Shadd, as a present day travel agent, tried to attract visitors to her beloved new land. Anyone, it seemed, could create a new life by emigrating to new territory, by working hard, by seizing opportunity. Nevertheless her short book was surrounded by some kind of controversy as the printer was a white man. Once more, she had to recur to white men for help as when she asked Alexander McArthur –a white man who belonged to the American Missionary Association–, for economic help for her integrated school in Windsor. Were these two facts really significant in her idea of self-reliance and self-sufficiency? Had her creed from the writing of “Hints for the Colored People in the North” changed greatly? In attempting to answer these questions one should take into account the practical side of Mary Ann’s personality because accordingly it was not wrong to make use of the whites to get one’s purpose when really needed. Therefore, Mary Ann Shadd emigrated to Canada and advised by Henry Bibb, whom she had met in the antislavery movements debates, established in Windsor as a teacher. But at the same time, Mary Ann Shadd started a journalistic career. Henry Bibb was the editor of The Voice of the Fugitive –where abolitionist propaganda and slaves’ autobiographies were published– for which Mary Ann wrote many articles. However, as Richard Almonte has cited in the introduction of A Plea for Emigration or Notes on Canada West (1998 (1852):16) it is ironic that the Bibbs advised Mary Ann to come and settle in Windsor with them as with the time they would become enemies. Henry Bibb had been a successful lecturer and his status as a former slave gave him any additional credit against Mary Ann Shadd. As a matter of fact Henry Bibb was a fervent supporter of segregation against Mary Ann Shadd’s ideas and, therefore, it was clear from an early stage that these two strong personalities could not work together. Besides, her former friend was constantly attacking her in his articles, among others, for her dream of an integrated SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 239 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 school. Moreover, Bibb and his supporters were equally disturbed by Mary Ann’s independence and her refusal to be submissive to Canada’s more established black, male leadership.7 She also perceived that black women, who led more traditional lives, were uncomfortable with her visibility. And exactly, in an era in which women scarcely played an active role in public, her presence was an oddity. For this reason, Mary Ann considered the idea of creating her own newspaper facing up against numerous difficulties along the way: The strict gender codes which regulated 19th century society against which Mary Ann had to fight. Although the newspaper was her initiative and the tasks of writing, editing and production were in her hands, she convinced Samuel Ringgold Ward to help her and both were coeditors of the newspaper.8 The Provincial Freeman. They always hid her name and symbolically placed men in positions of authority leaving her in the background. Samuel Ringgold shared Shadd’s anti-segregationist views. The motto chosen for The Provincial Freeman was “Self-reliance is the True Road to Independence”, words they lived by. Under the nameplate was the phrase “Union is Strength”. In her articles her criticism had changed little since she published “Hints for the colored People”. The greatest obstacle to racial progress, she believed, lay in the black community’s lack of collective action: “Instead of being like the Jews, who unite the more because of oppression, unlike every other people, the more the division the better” (First editorial of The Provincial Freeman, 6th December, 1856) The paper was first established in Windsor, then in Toronto where Mary Ann Shadd married Thomas Cary, an early supporter of The Provincial Freeman and had worked closely with Mary Ann for years, and finally the paper succumbed in Chatham where Mary Ann had to close it due to economic difficulties. The Provincial Freeman was the means used by Mary Ann Shadd to encourage her people to settle in Canada permanently. It was also the vehicle through which she communicated her motto of integration and social and sexual equality. At the same time, The Provincial Freeman was a newspaper of its time and included the typical elements of the newspapers of the moment; recipes, articles on diverse topics, literary discussions, etc. It also welcomed political articles written by different thinkers. One of these was Martin Delany, an activist and a friend of Mary Ann’s. He believed in the independence and self-sufficiency of black people as well, but he supported the idea of returning to Africa, instead of emigrating to Canada, as Mary Ann did —and 7 According to Rhodes (1998:73) Mary Ann was considered by many as a demon or a witch; in fact she was called “Shadd-as-Eve-the-Evil” because “if masculinity was commonly equated with political activism and influence, then how could Shadd’s detractors explain her rapid ascent in the public sphere of this small community?” 8 Also, some time later, Mary Ann’s husband, Thomas Cary, signed as editor to disguise his wife’s sex in The Provincial Freeman. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 240 had actually done. With the publication of her newspaper in 1853 Mary Ann Shadd culminated her labor in Canada. Nevertheless, supporters of black migration often extolled the advantages of life across the border and the hopes of many withered. And indeed, although Mary Ann Shadd had had her hopes in Canada her ideas and feelings towards the so-called “Paradise for Blacks” changed after the thirteen years she spent there because of the de facto –recognized as de iure– inequality between blacks and whites. In other words, the political rights of black people were not denied but their social equality actually was. In fact, the great number of black people who fled to Canada after the “Fugitive Slave Law” –a real exodus in a way– had turned into a major problem and a perceived menace for Canadian whites who accepted these people but did not integrate with them. In fact, it has been suggested that blacks in Canada were always “unwelcome guests”, who were tolerated as long as their numbers were small, but were increasingly ostracized as they became a distinct segment of the Canadian polity.9 As demographic and political circumstances changed, white people’s fears and prejudices were exacerbated. When blacks arrived in Canada, they knew that racial prejudice existed but were optimistic about the idea that it could be eradicated and that Canada’s racism was less tenacious than that of the United States. Nevertheless, Henry Bibb observed that by framing blacks as incompetent and ignorant, on the one hand, and debased and immoral on the other, Canadians, like their American counterparts, felt justified in denying their rights and privileges as British subjects. In the same way, segregation from whites with respect to blacks and among blacks themselves was a hard issue Mary Ann had to deal with. So her optimism from the beginning withered because of the prejudices obvious in the white society against black people living in Canada. She also blamed coloured people themselves who, willing to avoid tensions with whites, decided to live apart from them. Let us see for example their proper schools and churches. It is worth comparing the following two quotes in which Mary Ann Shadd made a compendium of the qualities that Canada could offer to the blacks; so far it seems that little had improved in the political, social or economic conditions of blacks living on either side of the border: […] to set forth the advantage of a residence in a country in which slavery is not tolerated, and prejudice on colour has no existence whatever-the adaptation of that country, by climate, soil, and political character, to their physical and political necessities; and the superiority of a residence there over their present 9 Jason Silverman coined the term “unwelcome guests” in his book of the same title (1985). Winks’ The Blacks in Canada, (1988) and Walton’s “Blacks in Buxton and Chatham, Ontario” (1979) generally agree with this assessment. SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 241 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 position at home. It will suffice, that coloured men prosecuted all the different trades; are not only unmolested, but sustained and encouraged in any business for which their qualifications and means fit them; and as the resources of the country develop, new fields of enterprise will be opened to them, and consequently new motives to honourable effort. (Shadd 1998 (1852):60-61) […] coloured persons have been refused entertainment in taverns (invariably of an inferior class), and on some boats distinction is made; but in all cases, it is that kind of distinction that is made between poor foreigners and other passengers, on the cars and steamboats of the Northern States. There are the emigrant train and the forward deck in the United States. In Canada, coloured persons, holding the same relation to the Canadians, are in some cases treated similarly. (Shadd 1998 (1852):87) And indeed, her pessimism and disillusionment were more than justified as schools in Canada remained racially segregated until well into the 1870s, and government support for black education limited. Furthermore, while African Americans were celebrating their liberation in the United States, race relations in Canada worsened. Nevertheless, she clung to the quasi-freedom and security that Canada had provided her for many years. In terms of Canadian history and cultural heritage and in terms of black history and heritage, the story of Mary Ann Shadd remains unique and exemplary. Her book A Plea for Emigration or Notes on Canada West was designed to counter claims by Southern US slave owners. The 40-page book is a carefully crafted appeal to black Americans to emigrate to Canada and she extolled the virtues of farming, climate and integrated schools to prospective settlers. But although Canada was for Mary Ann a place to seek an opportunity to express oneself in every respect, one could say that she did not find the real and unhindered freedom. The return of Mary Ann to the United States was due to several reasons apart from the ones stated. She probably was feeling exhausted from urging her people to act without seeing effective results and witnessing the prejudices existing in Canada against blacks (although she insisted on denying this fact). Maybe, the absence of her husband, who had passed away in 1869, leaving her with a child was influential, not to mention another child about to be born and three other children from her husband’s previous marriage. Homecoming –The United States– should be prepared in the long term. It is curious to note here that while the Bibbs never returned to the United States, Mary Ann Shadd, who believed in being safe from indiscrimination and racism in Canada, did return to her country. Therefore, with the outbreak of the American Civil War, Mary Ann Shadd Cary returned and in the aftermath of the war Mary Ann Shadd had seen part of her dream come true: the abolition of slavery. But, at the same time, she learned that there was no escape from racial tyranny, either in the United States or Canada, in the north or south. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 242 Moreover, her time in the United States was extremely fruitful. Apart from her career in education, she could continue her journalist activities as well. But this extraordinary woman was to astonish the world with a bigger challenge: to enroll in the Law School of Howard University. She was a pioneer in journalism and intended to be so in law. Again she encountered with sexual discrimination. In fact, Mary Ann Shadd was possibly the first woman to enroll at a law school. Shamina Sneed (2002) has studied this aspect of Mary Ann’s life, so little considered up to now, concentrating on three of the legal works passed on by this amazing woman. Further information about her fight in getting the degree at the age of sixty can be found in that revealing analysis of this part of Mary Ann’s life. In fact, very little is known about her legal practice but she is recognized as one of the first black women lawyers of her country. Furthermore, after successfully challenging the US House of Representatives Judiciary Committee for the right to vote, she actively campaigned for women’s rights through an organization she founded, the Coloured Women’s Progressive Franchise Association. During the late 1860s and 1870s, Mary Ann Shadd fought for women’s rights and fiercely defended the right of women to vote entrenched in her statement on the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments of the United States Constitution. Defending this right she took part in numerous activities –among others, her collaboration with Susan B. Anthony and the foundation of the short-lived Coloured Women’s Progressive Franchise Association. Nevertheless, she soon became aware of the discrimination that black women suffered within the feminist movement as they were consigned to minor activities. It is also worth noting that there was traditional discrimination by black men who wished to keep their women fulfilling the role for which they were “naturally” born as Jane Rhodes expressed (1998:200). However, as expressed at the beginning of this article that was not the case of Mary Ann Shadd. As far as she could she did really achieve to be self-reliant and self-sufficient and not depend in her entire life on anyone but herself. To conclude, it is worth pointing out that the notion of confidence appears to gain a noteworthy significance with Mary Ann Shadd as it is with Emerson who in a widely reprinted 1837 address, called on the person engaged in writing and thinking to “feel confidence in himself, […] to never defer to the popular cry”, and to find and trust his own “definition of freedom”. Mary Ann Shadd always had the concept of integration in her mind. For this reason, as seen, she opened an integrated school in Windsor although with great financial difficulties and having failed at being attended by white children. She considered the idea that people of color should benefit from contact with whites, while simultaneously promoting racial pride and autonomy. Furthermore, she believed that the political, social and cultural unification of black people was essential for their survival. She tended to blame African Americans for their condition even as they recognized the demands of racial oppression. Throughout SELF-RELIANCE IS THE TRUE ROAD TO INDEPENDENCE: FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE … 243 ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 her political life, she believed that black people bore the primary responsibility for improving their lot and changing their social position. In a word, Mary Ann Shadd was the kind of woman who could not rest idle. She would never see her dream of racial integration come true but she paved the way for future generations to achieve it. The history of this fight against slavery and for the dignity of individuals remains in history. As Emerson she also believed in individual work, non-conformity and in this case the harmony between blacks and whites. The emblem of her newspaper, “Self-reliance is the True Road to Independence” makes her worth being considered the foremother of far future generations who succeeded in seeing her dream fulfilled. Self-reliance, then, is the triumph of her principles. REFERENCES Bearden, Jim and Linda Butler. Shadd: The Life and Times of Mary Ann Shadd Cary. Toronto: NC Press, 1977. Cary, Sarah. “Mrs Mary Ann Shadd Cary, 1823-1893.” Homespun Heroines and Other Women of Distinction. Ed. Hallie Q.Brown. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988 (1926). Du Bois, William E.B “The talented Tenth.” The Writings of W.E.B. Du Bois. Ed Nathan Huggins. New York: Library of America, 1986. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Ralph Waldo Emerson-texts. 09/04/2009. URL: http://www.emersoncentral.com/nature.htm. 03/01/2013. ——. Ralph Waldo Emerson-texts. 09/04/2009. URL: http://www.emersoncentral.com/self- reliance.htm. 03/01/2013. Ferris, Jerry. Demanding Justice. A Story about Mary Ann Shadd Cary. Minneapolis: Carolrhoda Books, 2003. McElroy, Wendy. “Henry Thoureau and Civil Disobedience.” The Thoreau Reader. 08/09/2009. URL: http://thoreau.eserver.org/wendy.html. 03/01/2013. Martineau, Harriet. Society in America. 3 vols. London: Saunders and Otley, 1837. Moodie, Susanna. Roughing it in the Bush. London: Bentley, 1852. Painter, Nell. “Sojourner Truth in Life and Memory: Writing the Biography of an American Exotic”. Gender and History 2 (1990): 3-16. Parr Traill, Catharine. The Canadian Settler’s Guide. London: Edward Stanford, 1860. Mª DEL ROSARIO PIQUERAS FRAILE ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244 244 Patterson, Orlando. Slavery and Social Death: A Comparative Study. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982. Rhodes, Jane. Mary Ann Shadd Cary: The Black Press and Protest in the Nineteenth Century. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998. Sadlier, Rosemary. Mary Ann Shadd. Toronto: Umbrella Press, 1995. Shadd, Mary Ann. “Hints to the Colored People of the North.” Canada. The North Star, 1849. ——. ed. Richard Almonte. A Plea for Emigration or Notes of Canada West. Canada: The Mercury Press, 1998 (1852). Silverman, Jason H. Unwelcome Guests: Canada West’s Response to American Fugitive Slaves, 1800- 1865. Milwood, N.Y.: Associated Faculties Press, 1985. Sneed, Shamina. “Mary Ann Shadd Cary: A Biographical Sketch of the Rebel.” Unpublished dissertation. Stanford Law School, Women’s Legal History. 05/05/2002. URL: http://www.womenlegalhistory.stanford.edu/profiles.html. 17/12/2009. Toppin, Edgar A. A Biographical History of Blacks in America since 1958. New York: David McKay Company, 1971. Walton, Jonathan W. Blacks in Buxton and Chatham, Ontario 1830-1890: Did the 49th Parallel Make a Difference? Ph. Dissertation: Princeton University, 1979. Winks, Robin W. The Blacks in Canada. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988. How to cite this article: Piqueras Fraile, Mª del Rosario. “Self-reliance is the True Road to Independence: Freedom and Independence in Mary Ann Shadd’s Writings.” ES. Revista de Filología Inglesa 34 (2013): 227-244. Author’s contact: charo.piqueras@uam.es 
work_ew4pkn5f3jch7nmfuqpzaj6gl4	----	295 ABSTRACTS AND NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS antonio barrenechea University of Mary Washington Fredericksburg, VA USA Dracula as Inter-American Film Icon Universal Pictures and Cinematográfica ABSA My essay explores the vampire cinema of Hollywood and Mexico. In parti- cular, I trace the relationship between Universal Pictures as the progenitor of horror during the Great Depression and Cinematográfica ABSA’s “mex- ploitation” practices.  The latter resulted in the first vampire film in Latin America—El vampiro (1957). Rather than strengthening separatist national cinemas, the unintended consequences of genre film production make this a case of inter-American scope. Keywords: Dracula, hemispheric, inter-American, cinema, mexploitation Antonio Barrenechea is  a  professor of  literature of  the  Americas and cinema. He is the author of America Unbound: Encyclopedic Litera- ture and Hemispheric Studies (University of New Mexico Press, 2016), which brings together comparative literature and  hemispheric stud- ies by  tracing New World historical imaginaries in  prodigious novels from  the  United States, Latin America, and  Francophone Canada. He is also co-editor of Hemispheric Indigenous Studies, a special issue of Comparative American Studies (2013) that calls for a trans-American frame for indigenous history and culture. Over the past fifteen years, Dr. Barrenechea has contributed articles and reviews to Comparative Literature,  Revista Iberoamericana,  American Literature, and  other venues, including the American Comparative Literature Association’s “state-of-the-discipline” report. The  forthcoming “Hemispheric Stud- ies Beyond Suspicion” was awarded the 2014—2016 prize for the best E N D /N O T E S Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring—Summer, № 1/2020 Review of International American Studies RIAS Vol. 13, Spring—Summer № 1 /2020 ISSN 1991—2773 DOI: https://doi.org/10.31261/rias.9627 https://doi.org/10.31261/rias.9627 296 Captive Minds Normativities and Protests r ia s v o l. 1 3, s p r in g –s u m m er № 1 /2 0 20 essay by the International Association of Inter-American Studies. Follow- ing upon a 2016—2017 fellowship at the Institut Américain Universitaire in France, Dr. Barrenechea’s recent work is on the relation between trash culture and analog cinema as produced in the fringes of North and South American film capitals. He also conducts ongoing research on the intellec- tual history of the literature of the Americas, particularly its international pioneering waves, and its contemporary manifestations in U.S. academia. Dr. Barrenechea presently serves on the boards of the International Ameri- can Studies Association, the International Association of Inter-American Studies, and Comparative American Studies.. manuel broncano rodríguez Texas A&M International University USA A Literary History of Mental Captivity in the United States Blood Meridian, Wise Blood, and Contemporary Political Discourse On July 15, 2018, U.S. President Donald Trump and Russia’s President Vla- dimir Putin held a  summit in  Helsinki that immediately set off a  chain reaction throughout the  world. By  now, barely two months later, that summit is all but forgotten for  the most part, superseded by  the  fran- tic train of  events and  the  subsequent bombardment from  the  media that have become the “new normal.” While the iron secrecy surrounding the conversation between the two dignitaries allowed for all kinds of spe- culation, the image of President Trump bowing to his Russian counterpart (indeed a  treasure trove for  semioticians) became  for many observers in the U.S. and across the world the living proof of Mr. Trump ś subservient allegiance to Mr. Putin and his obscure designs. Even some of the most recalcitrant  GOPs vented quite publicly their disgust at  the  sight of a president paying evident homage to the archenemy of the United States, as Vercingetorix kneeled down before Julius Cesar in recognition of the Gaul’s surrender to the might of the Roman Empire. For some arcane reason, the whole episode of the Helsinki summit brought to my mind, as in a vivid déjà vu, Cormac McCarthy ś novel Blood Meridian and more specifically, the characters of Judge Holden and the idiotic freak who beco- mes Holden ś ludicrous disciple in the wastelands of Arizona. In my essay, I provide some possible explanations as to why I came to blend these two unrelated episodes into a single continuum. In the process, I briefly revi- sit some key texts in the American canon that fully belong in the history of “mental captivity” in the United States, yet to be written. Obviously, I am not in hopes of deciphering the ultimate reasons for current U.S. foreign policy, and the more modest aim of my article is to offer some insights into the general theme of mental captivity through a novel and a textual tradition overpopulated with “captive minds.” Keywords: Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, U.S. foreign policy, Presi- dent Trump, President Putin Manuel Broncano (PhD Salamanca 1990) is  a  Regents Professor of English at Texas A&M International University. From 2015 to 2019 297 r eview o f in ter n a tio n a l a m er ica n stu d ies Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring–Summer, № 1/2020 he served as the president of the International American Studies Asso- ciation (IASA). Before moving to  Texas, he  taught for  two decades at  the  University of  Leon (Spain). Broncano has published a  number of  scholarly works on  various American authors such as  Flannery O’Connor, Willa Cather, Faulkner, Melville, Poe, etc. His latest book was released in  2014, Religion in  Cormac McCarthy’s Fiction: Apocry- phal Borderlands (Routlege). Broncano has also kept an active agenda as a translator. His latest translation is Giannina Braschi’s United States of Banana (Estados Unidos de Banana, Amazon Crossing 2014). sonia caputa Faculty of Humanities University of Silesia in Katowice Poland Resistance and Protest in Percival Everett’s Erasure As argued by  the  literary critic Margaret Russett, Percival Everett “unhinges ‘black’ subject matter from  a  lingering stereotype of  ‘black’ style [and] challenges the assumption that a single or consensual Afri- can-American experience exists to be represented.” The author presents such a radical individualism in his most admired literary work published in 2001. In Erasure, Thelonious ‘Monk’ Ellison, the main character and nar- rator of the book, pens a stereotypically oriented African American novel that becomes an  expression of  “him being sick of  it”; “an awful little book, demeaning and soul-destroying drivel” that caters for the tastes and  expectations of  the  American readership but, at  the  same time, oscillates around pre-conceived beliefs, prejudices, and  racial clichés supposedly emphasizing the  ‘authentic’ black experience in  the  Uni- ted States. Not only is Erasure about race, misconceptions of blackness and racial identification but also about academia, external constraints, and one’s fight against them. The present article, therefore, endeavors to analyze different forms of resistance and protest in Percival Everett’s well-acclaimed novel, demonstrating the intricate connections between the publishing industry, the impact of media, the literary canon forma- tion and the treatment of black culture. Keywords: protest, resistance, Percival Everett, literary canon Sonia Caputa, PhD, works as  Assistant Professor at  the  Faculty of  Humanities at  the  University of  Silesia. She was a  participant of the Summer Fulbright Scholarship Programme “The United States Department of  State 2015 Institute on  Contemporary U.S. Literature” (University of Louisville, Kentucky). She is an active member of the Pol- ish Association for American Studies. Caputa was guest co-editor one of  the  issues of  RIAS and  a  co-editor of  the  series “Grand Themes of  American Literature.” She teaches contemporary ethnic American literature and  offers survey courses of  the  history of  American litera- ture. Her interests include, but are not limited to: ethnicity, assimilation, as well as stereotypes in literature and films. 298 Captive Minds Normativities and Protests r ia s v o l. 1 3, s p r in g –s u m m er № 1 /2 0 20 murat göç-bilgin Manisa Celal Bayar University Turkey Posthumanity and Prison-House of Gender in Douglas Coupland’s Microserfs This article aims to  analyze Douglas Coupland’s Microserfs with  a  deli- berate emphasis on  posthuman theory, body politics, and  gender to  construe the  transformation of  the  human body, human-machine nexus, and  captivity in  inhumanity with  a  struggle to  (re)humanize minds and their bodies. One of the arguments of the paper will be that posthumanism offers a new outlet for breaking the chains of captivity, that is, escaping into non-human to  redefine humanity and  to  eman- cipate the human mind and human body to notch up a more liberated and  more equitable definition of  humanity. As  gender and  sex are further marked by  the  mechanical and  mass-mediated reproduction of human experiences, history, and memory, space and time, postmo- dern gender theories present a perpetual in-betweenness, transgression and fluidity and the dissolution of grand narratives also resulted in a dis- solution of the heteronormative and essentialist uniformity and solidity of  the  human body. Gender in  a  posthuman context is  characterized by a parallel tendency for reclaiming the possession of the body and sexual identity with a desire to transform the body as a physical entity through plastic surgery, genetic cloning, in vitro fertilization, and computeriza- tion of human mind and memory. Therefore, the human body has lost its quality as gendered and sexed and has been imprisoned in an embodi- ment of infantile innocence and manipulability, a “ghost in the machine,” or a cyborg, a hybrid of machine and organism (Haraway). The human- -machine symbiosis, then, is exteriorized and extended into a network of objects switching “natural human body” to an immaterialized, dehu- manized, and prosthetic “data made flesh.” In this regard, Coupland’s Microserfs boldly explores the potential of posthuman culture to provide a deconstruction of human subjectivity through an analysis of human and machine interaction and to demonstrate how human beings trans- gress the captivity of humanity by technologizing their bodies and minds in an attempt to become more human than human. Keywords: Douglas Coupland, Microserfs, posthuman, cyborg theory, gender Murat Göç is an assistant professor of English Language and Literature at Celal Bayar University Turkey. He received his PhD degree from Ege University American Culture and Literature Department. His main fields of interest are: contemporary American literature, literary theory, gender studies, and, in particular, masculinity studies. He is the founding editor of the Masculinities Journal and a member of the Initiative for Critical Studies of Masculinities, an academic network of scholars based in Tur- key, working on establishing and ensuring gender equality, supporting LGBTI rights, and inspiring a critical transformation of masculinities. 299 r eview o f in ter n a tio n a l a m er ica n stu d ies Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring–Summer, № 1/2020 michał kisiel Er(r)go. Theory—Literature—Culture University of Silesia in Katowice Poland Violence Hates Games? Revolting (Against) Violence in Michael Haneke’s Funny Games U.S. This article aims at  exploring Haneke’s Funny Games U.S. as  a  pro- test against violence employed in the mainstream cinema. Satisfying compensatory needs of  the  spectators, constructing their identities, and even contributing to the biopolitics of neoliberalism, proliferating bloodthirsty fantasies put scholars in a suspicious position of treating them as either purely aesthetical phenomena or exclusively ethical ones. Haneke’s film seems to  resist such a  clear-cut binary; what is  more, it  contributes immensely to  the  criticism of  mainstream cinematic violence. Misleading with  its initial setting of  a  conventional thriller, Haneke employs absurd brutality in  order to  overload violence itself. The scenes of ruthless tortures are entangled in the ongoing masque- rade, during which swapping roles, theatrical gestures, and temporary identities destabilize seemingly fixed positions of perpetrators and their victims, and tamper with the motives behind the carnage. As I argue, by confronting its spectators with unbearable cruelty devoid of closing catharsis, Funny Games deconstructs their bloodthirsty desire of reta- liation and unmasks them as the very reason for the violence on screen. Following, among others, Jean-Luc Nancy and Henry A. Giroux, I wish to demonstrate how Haneke exhausts the norm of acceptable violence to reinstate such a limit anew. Keywords: Haneke, violence, affect, brutality, Funny Games U.S., cinema Michał Kisiel holds a PhD in Humanities and an MA in English from the Uni- versity of  Silesia in  Katowice. His doctoral dissertation focused on  the  unfolding of  Samuel Beckett and  Tadeusz Kantor by  means of new materialist methods. His interests include the correspondence between literature and philosophy, and the ontological turn in humani- ties. In  2015, he  participated in  The  Northwestern University Paris Program in Critical Theory. monika kocot Department of British Literature and Culture University of Łódź Poland A Celebration of the Wild. On Earth Democracy and the Ethics of Civil Disobedience in Gary Snyder’s Writing The article attempts to shed light upon the evolution of Gary Snyder’s “mountains-and-rivers” philosophy of living/writing (from the Buddhist anarchism of  the  1960s to  his peace-promoting practice of  the  Wild), and focuses on the link between the ethics of civil disobedience, deep ecology, and deep “mind-ecology.” Jason M. Wirth’s seminal study titled 300 Captive Minds Normativities and Protests r ia s v o l. 1 3, s p r in g –s u m m er № 1 /2 0 20 Mountains, Rivers, and the Great Earth: Reading Gary Snyder and Dōgen in an Age of Ecological Crisis provides an interesting point of reference. The  author places emphasis on  Snyder’s philosophical fascination with Taoism as well as Ch’an and Zen Buddhism, and tries to show how these philosophical traditions inform his theory and practice of the Wild. Keywords: Gary Snyder, the Wild, interconnectedness, interbeing, rivers, mountains, Zen, Ch’an, Tao Monika Kocot, PhD, is an Assistant Professor in the Department of British Literature and Culture at the University of Lódź, Poland. Her main aca- demic interests include contemporary British poetry, Native American prose and poetry, literary theory, and literary translation. She is the author of Playing Games of Sense in Edwin Morgan’s Writing (Peter Lang, 2016) and co-editor of Języki (pop)kultury w literaturze, mediach i filmie (Wydawnic- two Uniwersytetu Łodzkiego, 2015), Nie tylko Ishiguro. Szkice o literaturze anglojęzycznej w Polsce (Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Łódzkiego, 2019), and Moving between Modes. Papers in Intersemiotic Translation. In Memo- riam Professor Alina Kwiatkowska (Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Łódzkiego 2020). She is a member of the Association for Cultural Studies, The Asso- ciation for Scottish Literary Studies, and the French Society of Scottish Studies (SFEE). She is the President of The K.K. Baczynski Literary Society. monika kołtun Faculty of Humanities University of Silesia in Katowice Poland The Tragedy of a Whistleblower Adamczewski’s Tragic Protest and the Case of Chelsea Manning Bringing most carefully guarded secrets into light, political whistle- blowers deconstruct the essential oppositions upon which superpower ideologies are founded: they draw popular attention to  what has been relegated to  the  margins of  the  dominant discourses. Torpe- doing the reputations of the most powerful organizations in the world, and  well aware of  the  inevitability of  retaliation, they put themsel- ves in  a  most precarious position. Fighting against impossible odds in the name of the greater good, facing the gravity of the consequences, they become heroes in the classical sense of the word: arguably, their dilemmas are not unlike those faced by Antigone, Hamlet and other iconic figures in history, literature and mythology. Such is the central premise of this article. The methodological frame for the analysis of the material in this study has been adopted from Zygmunt Adamczewski’s The Tragic Protest, whose theory, bringing together classical and modern approa- ches to tragedy, allows for the extrapolation of the principles underlying the protest of such iconic figures as Prometheus, Orestes, Faust, Hamlet, Thomas Stockman or  Willy Loman to  discourses outside the  grand narratives of culture. His theory of the tragic protest serves as a tool facilitating the identification of the features of a quintessential tragic 301 r eview o f in ter n a tio n a l a m er ica n stu d ies Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring–Summer, № 1/2020 protester, which Adamczewski attains by means of the study of the defi- ning traits of mythological and literary tragic heroes. It is against such a backdrop that I adapt and apply Adamczewski’s model to the study of materials related to Chelsea Manning in search of parallels that locate her own form of protest in the universal space of tragedy. Keywords: whistleblower, tragic protest, archetype, Chelsea Manning Monika Kołtun, a PhD Candidate at the University of Silesia in Katowice, holds an  MA degree in  American and  Canadian Studies for  Intercultu- ral Relations and Diplomacy. As a graduate, she spent a year studying at the University of the Fraser Valley in Canada. Monika Kołtun autho- red an  article titled “Signed: Gombrowicz. ‘Pupa,’ the  Western Canon, and  the  English Translation of  Ferdydurke” in  a  high-ranking journal of  translation studies Między Oryginałem a  Przekładem. Her research interests embrace a  variety of  problems within the  areas of  cultural and literary studies, anthropology, politics, and ethics. giorgio mariani The “Sapienza” University of Rome Italy Emerson’s Superhero After offering some preliminary remarks on the notion of what makes a “captive mind,” the article shifts its attention to one of the most signi- ficant and yet relatively neglected early essays by Ralph Waldo Emerson, the essay “War.” This text, I argue, deserves not only to be considered the  (largely forgotten) founding document of  the  American anti-war movement, but  it  remains important even today, as  it sheds light on  the  inevitable contradictions and  double-binds any  serious move- ment against war and for social justice must face. It is a text, in other words, which helps us highlight some of the problems we run into—both conceptually and practically—when we try to free our minds from a given mindset, but we must still rely on a world that is pretty much the out- come of the ideologies, customs, and traditions we wish to transcend. To imagine a world free of violence and war is the age-old problem of how to  change the  world and  make it  “new” when the  practical and  intel- lectual instruments we have are all steeped in the old world we want to  abolish. Emerson’s thinking provides a  basis to  unpack the  aporias of what, historically speaking, the antiwar movement has been, both inside and  outside the  U.S. The  article concludes by  examining some recent collections of  U.S. pacifist and  anti-war writings, as  providing useful examples of the challenges antiwar, and more generally protest movements, must face. Keywords: Ralph Waldo Emerson, anti-war movement, protest move- ments Giorgio Mariani is a Professor of American Literature at the “Sapienza” University of Rome, Faculty of Letters and Philosophy. He has served 302 Captive Minds Normativities and Protests r ia s v o l. 1 3, s p r in g –s u m m er № 1 /2 0 20 as President of the International American Studies Association (IASA), from  2011 to  2015. His work has concentrated on  nineteenth-century American writers (Emerson, Melville, Stephen Crane, and others); on con- temporary American Indian literature; on literary theory; on the literary and cinematic representation of war. He has published, edited, and co- edited several volumes, listed below. His essays and  reviews have appeared in many journals, including American Literary History, Studies in American Fiction, Fictions, RIAS, RSA Journal, Stephen Crane Studies. Nuovo Corrente, Zapruder, Leviathan, Letterature d’America, AION, Acoma, Studi Americani. With Donatella Izzo he edits the American Studies series of  the  Sapienza UP, and  with Donatella Izzo and  Mauro Pala he  edits the  series “Le Balene” published by  La Scuola di Pitagora. He  is co- editor-in-chief (with Donatella Izzo and Stefano Rosso) of Acoma. Rivista internazionale di studi nord-americani. His books published in  English include:  Waging War on  War. Peacefighting in  American Literature (2015), Post-tribal Epics: The  Native American Novel between Tradition and  Modernity (1996), Spectacular Narratives: Representations of  Class and War in Stephen Crane and the American 1890s (1992). john matteson Department of English John Jay College of Criminal Justice City University of New York USA Mailer, Doctorow, Roth A Cross-Generational Reading of the American Berserk Of all  American paradoxes, none is  greater than this: that the  typical American cherishes free speech but is almost mortally offended by public protest, which he  regards as  at  best lacking in  taste and  at  worst an outright crime. A nation founded on dissent, America is exquisitely uncomfortable with  ill-mannered disagreement. More than freedom itself, an  American is  likely to  value moral insularity and  absolution: he  wants to  live his  life free from  ethical challenge. He seeks subur- ban anesthesia, a life of commercial abundance untroubled by the pain inflicted elsewhere to maintain it, whether through military aggression or  the  global exploitation of  labor. The  American hopes to  be remin- ded that he  is good and  blameless—and quickly condemns his  critics as envious or mad or driven by dark agendas. As by an unwritten law, he denounces protest as an offense against his amour propre. This con- demnation, ipso facto, makes a  figurative criminal of  the  protester, who, when her efforts are scorned, finds herself not  trying to  persu- ade, but acting in a spirit of resentment and self-vindication. She sees any  act by  her countryman that does not  challenge the  social sys- tem as intolerable evidence of complicity and collaboration. The spirit of compromise vanishes, and the protester risks falling into the attitude described by Philip Roth as “the American berserk.” My article exami- nes this process of polarization through three indispensable American 303 r eview o f in ter n a tio n a l a m er ica n stu d ies Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring–Summer, № 1/2020 novels of protest: Norman Mailer’s Armies of the Night; E.L. Doctorow’s The Book of Daniel; and Philip Roth’s American Pastoral. Keywords: protest, radicalism, liberalism, conscience, literature, Nor- man Mailer, E. L. Doctorow, Philip Roth John T. Matteson is a recipient of the Pulitzer Prize for Biography. He has an  AB in  history from  Princeton University and  a  PhD in  English from Columbia University. He also holds a JD from Harvard and has prac- ticed as a litigation attorney in California and North Carolina. His work has appeared in The Wall Street Journal; The New York Times; The Har- vard Theological Review; New England Quarterly; Nineteenth-Century Prose; Leviathan: A  Journal of  Melville Studies;  and other publications. His first book, Eden’s Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father,  was awarded the  Pulitzer Prize in  2008. His more recent book The Lives of Margaret Fuller has been awarded the Ann M. Sperber Prize for Best Biography of a Journalist. Professor Matteson’s annota- ted edition of Alcott’s Little Women, published by W. W. Norton in 2015, reached #1 on Amazon’s list of best-selling works of children’s literary criticism. Professor Matteson is a Fellow of the Massachusetts Histori- cal Society and a former Fellow of the Leon Levy Center for Biography, where he formerly served as deputy director. He has received the Dis- tinguished Faculty Award of  the  John Jay College Alumni Association and the Dean’s Award for Distinguished Achievement by a PhD Alumnus of the Columbia University School of Arts and Sciences. His new a book, A Worse Place Than Hell: How the Civil War Battle of Fredericksburg Chan- ged a Nation, is currently in print. federica perazzini The “Sapienza” University of Rome Italy Paradigms of Otherness The American Savage in British Eighteenth-Century Popular and Scholarly Literature In this article, I trace the changes in the literary and material represen- tations of the indigenous peoples of North America within the British sphere of  cultural production. As  a  first example, I  give an  account of the episode of the “Four Iroquois Kings” envoy at Queen Ann’s court in 1710, focusing on the resonance of such a historical encounter in popu- lar texts and  iconographic material. As  a  second example, I  analyze the popular story of Inkle and Yarico included in Richard Steele’s The Spec- tator in 1711, showing its impact on the early Enlightenment reflections on  colonial trade. In  my conclusion, I  examine the  role of  American natives in the scholarly works of the Scottish Enlightenment, in order to show how they were used as comparable types for the observation of the roots of European civilizations thus justifying the construction https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393333596 https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393333596 https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393343595 https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393247077 https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393247077 304 Captive Minds Normativities and Protests r ia s v o l. 1 3, s p r in g –s u m m er № 1 /2 0 20 of the British imperial hegemony both geopolitical terms and discursive practice. Keywords: American savages, public sphere, popular literature, Scottish Enlightenment, British Empire Federica Perazzini is Researcher in English Literature at the “Sapienza” University of  Rome where she currently teaches English Literature and  Culture. Awarded a  Fulbright Fellowship in  2011, she was visiting researcher at  Stanford University where she joined Franco Moretti’s research group at the Literary Lab. Her main research interests involve the application of computational tools to the study of literary genres and cultural discourse analysis. Her pioneering dissertation, published in two volumes in 2013, is an example of computational criticism applied to the case study of the English gothic novel. Her latest research pro- jects include the computational analysis of the emergence of modern subjectivity in  the  Long 18th Century (La Cifra del Moderno, 2019) and  the  publication of  a  study on  the  intersections between fashion and English literature titled Fashion Keywords (2017). małgorzata poks Faculty of Humanities University of Silesia in Katowice Poland “Where Butchers Sing Like Angels” Of Captive Bodies and Colonized Minds (With a Little Help from Louise Erdrich) The Master Butchers Signing Club—Louise Erdrich’s “countehistory” (Natalie Eppelsheimer) of the declared and undeclared wars of Western patriarchy—depicts a  world where butchering, when done with  preci- sion and expertise, approximates art. Fidelis Waldvogel, whose name means literally Faithful Forestbird, is  a  sensitive German boy turned the first-rate sniper in the First World War and master butcher in his adult life in America. When Fidelis revisits his homeland after the slau- ghter of World War II, Delphine, his second wife, has a vision of smoke and ashes bursting out of the mouths of the master butchers singing onstage in a masterful harmony of voices. Why it is only Delphine, an out- sider in  the  Western world, that can see the  crematorium-like reality overimposed on the bucolic scenery of a small German town? Drawing on decolonial and Critical Animal Studies, this article tries to demystify some of the norms and normativities we live by. Keywords: Louise Erdrich, decoloniality, species war, normative humanity Małgorzata Poks, PhD is  an  assistant professor at  the  Institute of Literary Studies, Faculty of Humanities, at the University of Silesia in  Katowice, Poland. Her main research interests revolve around con- temporary North American Literature, Indigenous Studies, US-Mexican 305 r eview o f in ter n a tio n a l a m er ica n stu d ies Captive Minds Normativities and Protests RIAS vol. 13, Spring–Summer, № 1/2020 border writing, Critical Animal Studies, Christian anarchism, Thomas Merton’s late poetry. She has published widely in  Poland and  abroad. Her monograph Thomas Merton and Latin America: a Consonance of Voi- ces (2006) received the International Thomas Merton Award and in her article “Home on the Border: in Ana Castillo’s The Guardians: The Colo- nial Matrix of Power, Epistemic Disobedience, and Decolonial Love” was awarded the 2019 Javier Coy Biennial Research Award. Poks is also a reci- pient of several international research fellowships. john eric starnes Faculty of Humanities University of Silesia in Katowice Poland Black Flag under a Grey Sky Forms of Protest in Current Neo-Confederate Prose and Song While ‘tragic’ protest and protest songs are normally conceived of as ori- ginating on the political left of American culture, in recent years protest from  the  political right, specifically the  racist right has flown under the cultural radar of most researchers of American studies. This article strives to  explore the  ways in  which the  neo-Confederate movement is currently protesting the state of cultural, political, and social affairs in the contemporary American South. The neo-Confederate movement is one of the oldest forms of ‘conservative’ protest present in the United States, originating out of the defeat of the Confederacy and the civic religion of the ‘Lost Cause’ of the last decades of the 1800s into the first three decades of  the  1900s. Since the  neo-Confederate movement is  both revolutionary and  conservative, it  is possible to  derive some valuable insights into the contemporary reactionary politics of the right by examining a brief sampling of the protest songs, novels, and essays of this particular subculture. Keywords: neo-Confederate, radical fiction, racist revolutionary subcul- ture, U.S. cultural history J. Eric Starnes is a native of North Carolina with a BS and an MA in his- tory, as well as a PhD in American Literature. His main fields of research revolve around the study of nationalism, revolutionary fiction (fiction that advocates revolution), revolutionary subcultures, psychology— particularly the  study of  historical trauma, Jungian social psychology, and the Men’s Rights Movement. Starnes is the author (among others) of: “The Riddle of Thule: In Search of the Crypto-History of a Racially Pure White Utopia” (2015) and  “The Ties of  Revolution, The  Knots of Race: An Examination of Two ‘Revolutionary’ American Pacific Nor- thwest Novels” (2018). 
work_exhsqtgdybhlpmo4m452tuxufu	----	Beliefs about Volunteerism, Volunteering Intention, Volunteering Behavior, and Purpose in Life among Chinese Adolescents in Hong Kong Research Article TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 TSW Child Health & Human Development ISSN 1537-744X; DOI 10.1100/tsw.2009.32 *Corresponding author. ©2009 with author. Published by TheScientificWorld; www.thescientificworld.com 855 Beliefs about Volunteerism, Volunteering Intention, Volunteering Behavior, and Purpose in Life among Chinese Adolescents in Hong Kong Ben M.F. Law 1 and Daniel T.L. Shek 2,3,4, * 1 Department of Social Work, The Chinese University of Hong Kong; 2 Department of Applied Social Sciences, The Hong Kong Polytechnic University, Hong Kong; 3 Department of Sociology, East China Normal University, Shanghai; 4 Kiang Wu Nursing College of Macau E-mail: daniel.shek@polyu.edu.hk Received February 14, 2009; Revised March 16, 2009; Accepted March 16, 2009; Published September 1, 2009 The relationships among beliefs about volunteerism, volunteering intention, volunteering behavior, and purpose in life were examined in this study. A total of 5,946 participants completed a series of scales, including the Revised Personal Functions of Volunteerism Scale, Volunteering Intention Scale, and Purpose in Life Scale. The results showed that participants whose purpose in life had different levels also had varied prosocial beliefs about volunteerism, volunteering intention, and volunteering behavior. Purpose in life was associated more strongly with prosocial value function than with other types of beliefs (except understanding function). When different beliefs are grouped, the correlation between purpose in life and other-serving beliefs was higher than that between purpose in life and self-serving beliefs. Purpose in life was also associated with volunteering intention and behavior. Path analyses showed that purpose in life predicted volunteering behavior via beliefs and intention. While other-serving beliefs predicted volunteering behavior directly, self-serving beliefs did not have such direct effect. KEYWORDS: Chinese adolescents, volunteering, purpose in life, psychological well-being INTRODUCTION This study aims to explore the relationship between purpose in life and volunteerism among Chinese adolescents in Hong Kong. Human beings have shown enthusiasm in relation to acts that allow them to pursue their purpose in life. In fact, the New York Times and Wall Street Journal reported huge sales figures posted for Rick Warren’s best-selling book The Purpose Driven Life[1]. This idea has also been explored in previous literary works. For example, Ralph Waldo Emerson stated once that, “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.” Human beings want to approach life with a sense of coherence (sense of order, reason for existence, and understanding) and purpose in life (mission in life, direction, goal orientation)[2,3]. Accordingly, people with a higher level of purpose in life tend to have a Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 856 sense of direction, mission, and coherence in their daily lives. Purpose in life is thus an indicator of quality of life. In conventional usage, “meaning” refers to sense and coherence, whereas “purpose” refers to intentions, aims, and functions. However, in reference to the inherent ontological significance of life, the terms “purpose in life”, “life meaning”, and “meaning of life” are often used interchangeably in the field of existential psychotherapy[2]. These terms will all be used in this paper. The quest to seek one’s purpose in life is a universal phenomenon manifested across the life span continuum, cutting across cultures and age groups, especially among the youth. Human history has repeatedly shown us how young people strived for purpose in life. For instance, young people in Nazi Germany believed that building an ethnically superior nation was their life purpose before World War II, whereas young people in China in the 1960s wanted to develop a Communist utopia during the Cultural Revolution[4]. We can understand the importance of purpose in life during adolescence in terms of developmental and existential perspectives. According to different developmental perspectives, adolescence is a crucial time for cultivating a commitment to positive purpose in life. It is marked by enhanced self-understanding and comprehension of one’s place in human society and purpose in life. Adolescents struggle to define their identities. Kroger[5] argued that they form their identities by synthesizing earlier identifications into “a new psychological structure, greater than the sum of its parts (p. 3).” By injecting the sense of self, adolescents actively explore their life meanings. In addition, purpose in life is argued to be one of the five types of competencies under self-control in adolescent personality development[6]. At the same time, purpose in life is an important component of spiritual development in adolescence[7]. From the existential perspective, Frankl conceived of life meaning as a process of discovery within a world that is intrinsically meaningful[8]. The prolonged absence of meaning and purpose creates a condition known as existential vacuum. If the will to meaning is not fulfilled, symptoms will rush in to fill the vacuum. These include boredom, apathy, and emptiness. This condition is called noogenic neurosis. Although Frankl’s theory is not specifically formulated for adolescents, it is predicted that when an adolescent is aware of his life’s meaning, he becomes aware of his own existence and responsibility in the world. Despite the importance of purpose in life, we do not fully understand its role in adolescent development among Chinese due, perhaps, to several knowledge gaps in the existing literature. First, only a few studies focused on adolescents’ purpose in life and it is a neglected area in adolescent research[7]. Second, many studies focused on adolescents’ negative behavior and psychopathology[9], and only a few dealt with positive behavior and purpose in life[10]. Third, only a few studies examined the related issues for Chinese adolescents[11]. There are theories that suggest that purpose in life is associated with prosocial behavior. According to Frankl, purpose in life can essentially be attained through three means: productive or creative activities, positive human experiences, and through the experience of unavoidable and negative conditions[8]. Yalom indicated that purpose in life is associated with religious beliefs, self-transcendent values, association with groups, dedication to some social causes, and adoption of clear life goals; purpose in life is associated negatively with self-serving motives[3]. Keyes and Ryff suggested that psychologically healthy people have goals that make their lives meaningful[12]. One characteristic of a meaningful life is that those people tend to be concerned about other people’s needs. Prosocial behavior can enhance one’s well-being, thus improving one’s quality of life as well. Emmons suggested 13 categories of human concerns linked to purpose in life, such as “achievement”, “intimacy”, and “personal growth and health”. One kind of ultimate human concern that is associated with purpose in life is interpersonal concerns[13]. Reker and Wong defined the degree of self-transcendence as an indication of purpose in life[2]. They then proposed four levels of depth regarding the experiences of life meaning. Level 1 is self- preoccupation with hedonistic pleasure and comfort, Level 2 is devotion of time and energy to the realization of personal potential, Level 3 is service to others and commitment to a larger societal or political cause, and Level 4 is transcendence of cosmic meaning and ultimate purpose. According to this framework, people with a higher level of purpose in life tend to focus on transcendental values and the needs of other people rather than self-serving needs. As purpose in life is closely related to transcendental Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 857 values, it is expected that people with a higher level of purpose in life would be less likely to endorse material and/or self-serving motives. A review of the literature would demonstrate that purpose in life was indeed positively related to prosocial behavior among adolescents. Shek, Ma, and Cheung showed that purpose in life was positively related to prosocial behavior[10], while Shek, Siu, and Lee showed that purpose in life was positively related to identification with prosocial norms and prosocial involvement[14]. Unfortunately, despite these attempts to examine the relationship between purpose in life and prosocial behavior, no systematic attempt has been made to examine the relationship between purpose in life and adolescent volunteerism. Volunteering behavior is a special form of prosocial behavior. Unlike spontaneous helping, volunteering behavior is a planned action via the mediation of an organizing agency[15]. There are not many studies about adolescent volunteerism and purpose in life[10,16]. Other studies either do not focus on adolescents[17] or the relationship is about other measures of well-being instead of purpose in life[18]. In addition, most studies on adolescent volunteerism are focused solely on volunteering behavior[19,20]. Cognitive-motivational perspective suggests that one’s behavior is influenced both by beliefs and intention[21]. Given that volunteerism is also a type of planned behavior, the roles of beliefs and intention are more prominent. Among various approaches to understanding beliefs related to volunteerism, the functional approach is the most widely studied[22]. Different people perceive volunteer service with different underlying functions. Some view services as a chance to learn and some set out to serve people in need. The beliefs held for an activity can be the motivating factor for engaging in that particular activity. The functional approach conceptualizes each category of beliefs as a discrete function for the person. Borrowing the ideas of Volunteer Functions Inventory by Clary et al.[22], Law has developed five types of beliefs about volunteerism among adolescents[15]. These beliefs can be further classified as “other-serving beliefs” and “self-serving beliefs” as discussed below. 1. Prosocial value function (other-serving belief) — This function primarily refers to serving other people. A prosocial value is the belief that interaction with others and the act of considering other people’s interests is more important than self-interests. Adolescents perceive that volunteer service can actualize and express their prosocial values related to altruistic and humanitarian concerns for other members of society. As prosocial value function is the only other-serving belief in this study, the terms “other-serving beliefs”, “prosocial beliefs”, and “prosocial value function” will be used interchangeably in this paper. 2. Understanding function (self-serving belief) — This function refers to the possibility of learning while in service. Adolescents perceive that they can improve their interpersonal skills, acquire skills and knowledge that would help them to serve recipients, and gain a more comprehensive understanding of social issues while serving as volunteers. 3. Socializing function (self-serving belief) — This function refers to the socializing aspect of services. Many volunteer services are delivered in groups rather than individuals. In relation to this, adolescents perceive that they can make or meet friends during the service. 4. Future plan function (self-serving belief) — This function refers to potential tangible benefits to adolescents. Adolescents regard volunteering as an opportunity to explore future study or career plans. For instance, adolescents in Hong Kong are aware that volunteer service is a definite advantage when applying for admission to better schools or universities. 5. Well-being function (self-serving belief) — This function is related to psychological well-being. Adolescents regard volunteering as a means to boost self-esteem, competence, and mood. Volunteering can also be perceived as a means to avoid personal problems since the service occupies the volunteers’ time. These five functions are beliefs about volunteerism. It can be argued that while prosocial value function is other-serving in nature, other functions are relatively more self-serving. Existing literature has not explored the relationship between different types of volunteering beliefs and purpose in life. Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 858 According to cognitive-motivational perspective, such as Ajzen[23], beliefs can result in favorable or unfavorable evaluative reactions manifested in cognition, feeling, motivation, or behavior[21]. Thus, stronger functional beliefs about volunteerism may lead to a stronger intention to volunteer[23]. Beliefs can also directly lead to a higher frequency of volunteering behavior. On the other hand, when we have an intention to do something, there is a tendency for us to actually perform the deed[23]. Intention acts as the bridge between beliefs and behavior. However, empirical research showed that the belief-intention, belief-behavior, and belief-intention-behavior links are not always stable[24]. There are many factors influencing these links, such as the specificity and clarity of beliefs and intention[23], task difficulty, and environmental influence. Based on the assertions of the existential[2,8] and cognitive-motivational perspectives (e.g., influence of beliefs on intention and behavior), this study aims to explore the relationship among purpose in life, volunteering beliefs, intentions, and behavior. Against the above background, four research questions are addressed in this paper: Research Question 1: What is the relationship between purpose in life and beliefs about volunteerism? According to Frankl, purpose in life is the basic motive for human behavior that allows us to attain existential well-being. Based on the taxonomy of experiences of purpose in life by Reker and Wong[2], it was hypothesized that purpose in life would be positively correlated with prosocial beliefs about volunteerism (Hypothesis 1A). In other words, those with a higher level of purpose in life would have a stronger endorsement of the prosocial value function of volunteering. As beliefs can be classified as other-serving beliefs (prosocial value function) and self-serving beliefs (understanding function, socializing function, well-being function, and future plan function), it was also hypothesized that the relationship between purpose in life and prosocial beliefs would be stronger than that between purpose in life and self-serving beliefs (Hypothesis 1B). Finally, it was hypothesized that adolescents with a high level of purpose in life would display stronger prosocial beliefs about volunteerism than adolescents with a low level of purpose in life (Hypothesis 1C). Research Question 2: What is the relationship between purpose in life and volunteering intention? Based on the existential well-being literature[2,3], it was hypothesized that purpose in life would be positively associated with volunteering intention (Hypothesis 2A). It was also hypothesized that adolescents with a high level of purpose in life would display higher volunteering intention than adolescents with a low level of purpose in life (Hypothesis 2B). Research Question 3: What is the relationship between purpose in life and volunteering behavior? Based on the existential well-being literature, it was hypothesized that purpose in life would be positively associated with volunteering behavior (Hypothesis 3A). It was also hypothesized that adolescents with a high level of purpose in life would demonstrate higher involvement in volunteering behavior than those with a low level of purpose in life (Hypothesis 3B). Research Question 4: What are the inter-relationships among purpose in life, beliefs about volunteerism, volunteering intention, and behavior? Purpose in life was hypothesized to predict factors related to volunteerism. Ajzen formulated a model on the relationships among beliefs, intention, and behavior, where beliefs are antecedents of intention and intention is the antecedent of behavior[23]. In addition, beliefs can also be the direct antecedents of behavior[21]. In this study, a path model would be constructed to examine the relationships among purpose in life, volunteering beliefs, intention, and behavior. In particular, it was hypothesized that purpose in life would influence prosocial beliefs about volunteerism [2], which would subsequently affect volunteering behavior. Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 859 METHOD Participants and Procedure The data for the present analyses were derived from a large-scale cross-sectional survey on volunteer service patterns among Chinese adolescents in Hong Kong. A total of 5,946 secondary school (high school) students (2,193 boys [36.9%], 3,744 girls [63.1%], and nine respondents not indicating their gender) participated in the study. They were recruited from 31 secondary schools and one Protestant church by convenience sampling. Among the participants, 66% were junior-grade students (Secondary 1 to 3, with ages ranging from 13 to 15) and 34% were senior-grade students (Secondary 4 to 6, with ages ranging from 16 to 18). The mean age of the participants was 14.77 years (SD = 1.60). Both parental and participant consents were obtained. Parental consent was sought by the researcher by sending letters to parents at the request of school authorities. For participant consent, students were asked if they did not want to participate in the study at the time of data collection administration (i.e., “passive” informed consent). All participants responded to all scales in the questionnaire and demographic characteristics in a self-administered format. Adequate time was provided for the participants with regard to completion of the questionnaire. Instruments Revised Personal Functions of Volunteerism Scale (RV) The Revised Personal Functions of Volunteerism Scale (RV) is a 20-item self-report measure of the participants’ perceived functions of volunteerism. The scale was modeled after the Volunteer Functions Inventory (VFI) by Clary et al.[22] and was developed with reference to the developmental characteristics of Chinese adolescents. There are research findings supporting the reliability and validity of this instrument[15]. The RV assesses the underlying beliefs about volunteerism in terms of functions using a 6-point scale ranging from 1 (strongly disagree) to 6 (strongly agree). Five functions were found, namely, (1) prosocial value function (PRO) (e.g., “I feel compassion towards people in need”), (2) understanding function (UN) (e.g., “Volunteering lets me learn things through direct, hands-on experience”), (3) socializing function (SO) (e.g., “I can meet friends in volunteer service”), (4) well-being function (WB) (e.g., “Volunteering increases my self-esteem”), and (5) future plan function (FU) (e.g., “Volunteering makes it easier for me to enter university or better schools”). The Cronbach’s α of the 20-item RV was 0.91. The reliabilities for five types of beliefs were 0.76 (prosocial), 0.87 (understanding), 0.79 (socializing), 0.86 (well-being), and 0.80 (future plan). Law showed that the scale scores were able to differentiate volunteers and nonvolunteers[15]. Volunteering Intention Scale (VI) Based on literature[25], four items were developed to form the Volunteering Intention Scale (VI). The first item about the general volunteering intention used a 5-point scale ranging from 1 (no intention and with resistance) to 5 (extremely strong intention). The second item about whether one would pay attention to information about volunteer service used a 4-point scale ranging from 1 (never) to 4 (always). The third item about interest used a 6-point scale ranging from 1 (not interested with resistance) to 6 (extremely interested). The last item about the response to volunteering invitation also used a 6-point scale ranging from 1 (rejection and repulsion to inviter) to 6 (absolute participation). The score of each item was standardized by dividing the number of options, after which the average scores were then added. As there Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 860 were four items, the highest score was 4. The Cronbach’s α of the VI is 0.82. Law showed that the scale scores were able to differentiate volunteers and nonvolunteers[15]. Service Hours Volunteering behavior was measured by self-reported total hours in serving the community within the past 12 months. Purpose in Life Scale (PIL) The Purpose in Life Scale (PIL) was designed by Crumbaugh and Maholick[26], and it was Shek[11] who validated the scale in the Chinese context. In this study, an abridged 7-item version was used. The reliability of the PIL was 0.87 in terms of Cronbach’s α, with the PIL showing good internal consistency. Law showed that the scale scores were able to differentiate volunteers and nonvolunteers[15]. RESULTS Relationship between Purpose in Life and Beliefs on Volunteerism Correlation coefficients on the relationship between purpose in life and beliefs on volunteerism are presented in Table 1. Two observations can be highlighted from the findings. First, purpose in life was significantly correlated with prosocial beliefs, thus supporting Hypothesis 1A. Second, except the understanding function, PIL scores were found to be strongly correlated with prosocial beliefs compared with other self-serving beliefs. When self-serving beliefs (understanding, well-being, socializing, and future plan functions) were grouped together, the correlation of purpose in life with other-serving beliefs was significantly higher than the correlation of purpose in life with self-serving beliefs (z = 3.38, p < 0.05) (Table 1). In short, the findings provided support for Hypothesis 1B. Using the median PIL score (5.0) as the cutoff score, participants with “high” PIL (mean total score equal to 5 and above) and “low” PIL (mean total score lower or equal to 4.9) were identified. As shown in Table 2, adolescents with a high level of purpose in life displayed significantly stronger prosocial beliefs on volunteerism than adolescents with a low level of purpose in life, with a medium effect size (Cohen d = 0.55). The findings supported Hypothesis 1C. Relationship between Purpose in Life and Volunteering Intention The correlation coefficient between purpose in life and volunteering intention was significant with a moderate effect size (r = 0.30, p < 0.001). In addition, adolescents with a high level of purpose in life displayed higher volunteering intention than those with a low level of purpose in life, with a medium effect size (Cohen d = 0.50). These findings provided support for Hypotheses 2A and 2B. Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 861 TABLE 1 Relationship between Purpose in Life and Beliefs on Volunteerism Variable PIL Pairwise Comparison with PRO vs. PIL (z Score) PRO 0.33* — UN 0.30* 1.44 ns WB 0.21* 6.98** SO 0.19* 8.16** FU 0.07* 14.58** SELF 0.27* 3.38** PRO = prosocial value function; UN = understanding function; WB = well-being function; SO = socializing function; FU = future plan function; SELF (UN + WB + SO + FU) = self-serving beliefs (sum of understanding, well-being, socializing, and future plan scores). *p < 0.001, **p < 0.05. TABLE 2 Comparison of Adolescents with High vs. Low Purpose in Life High PIL Low PIL Variable Mean SD Mean SD t Value Cohen d PRO 4.99 0.63 4.60 0.67 –21.28* 0.55 VI 2.55 0.59 2.25 0.61 –19.02* 0.50 HR 10.26 18.86 7.77 16.04 –5.45* 0.14 PRO = prosocial beliefs; VI = volunteering intention; HR = service hours. *p < 0.001. Relationship between Purpose in Life and Volunteering Behavior The correlation coefficient between purpose in life and volunteering behavior was significant, but showed a low effect size (r = 0.08, p < 0.001). Table 2 shows that adolescents with a high level of purpose in life spent more hours on volunteer service in the past 12 months than those with a low level of purpose in life, demonstrating a low effect size (Cohen d = 0.14). These findings provided support for Hypotheses 3A and 3B. Inter-Relationships among Purpose in Life, Beliefs on Volunteerism, Volunteering Intention, and Behavior Standard multiple regression analyses on both behavior and intention were also performed. By using service hours as the dependent variable, results showed that while there were three significant predictors (intention, prosocial beliefs, and purpose in life), self-serving beliefs were not significant in the prediction of volunteering behavior (Table 3). On the other hand, all predictors of volunteering intention were significant (Table 4). Similar results controlling for gender and grades were found. Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 862 TABLE 3 Standard Multiple Regression of Volunteering Intention, Beliefs, and Purpose in Life on Service Hours Beta PIL PRO SELF VI R 2 f 2 0.03** 0.05** 0.00 0.33* 0.11 0.12 PIL = purpose in life; PRO=prosocial beliefs; SELF = self-serving beliefs; VI=volunteering intention. *p < 0.001, **p < 0.05. TABLE 4 Standard Multiple Regression of Beliefs and Purpose in Life on Volunteering Intention Beta PIL PRO SELF R 2 f 2 0.14* 0.21* 0.33* 0.29 0.41 PIL = purpose in life; PRO = prosocial beliefs; SELF = self-serving beliefs. *p < 0.001. A path model was constructed based on the findings presented in Tables 1, 3, and 4. The model is shown in Fig. 1. The total effect of purpose in life to service hours due to beliefs was the combination of the following: (1) the direct effect of purpose in life, (2) the indirect effect via belief, and (3) the indirect effect via belief and then via intention. The total effect of purpose in life due to self-serving beliefs was 0.06, whereas that due to prosocial beliefs was 0.07. The predictive ability of prosocial beliefs in this path model was marginally higher than self-serving beliefs. DISCUSSION In view of the paucity of studies that examine the relationships between purpose in life and adolescent volunteering beliefs, intention, and behavior, the present study examined the following issues: (1) the relationship between purpose in life and different beliefs about volunteerism, (2) the relationship between purpose in life and volunteering intention, (3) the relationship between purpose in life and volunteering behavior, and (4) the inter-relationships among purpose in life and volunteering beliefs, intention, and behavior. Based on the thesis that purpose in life influences adolescent volunteering beliefs, intention, and behavior, several hypotheses were proposed. Regarding Research Question 1, the findings showed that purpose in life is positively related to prosocial beliefs and that the correlation is stronger than those correlations based on self-serving beliefs. Furthermore, those experiencing a high level of purpose in life differed from those with a low level of purpose in terms of prosocial beliefs. There are two unique aspects of the related findings. First, the current Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 863 FIGURE 1. Path model showing inter-relationships among purpose in life, volunteering beliefs, intention, and behavior. study is the first of its kind in its attempt to gain an understanding of the relationship between volunteering beliefs and purpose in life. It can thus be considered a groundbreaking study. Second, the present study clarified the relationship between purpose in life and beliefs about volunteerism. The present findings showed that different beliefs are, in varying degrees, related to purpose in life. Consistent with the assertion that prosocial value function belongs to a higher level of experience (Level 3 in Reker and Wong[2]), the present findings showed that the correlation between purpose in life and prosocial beliefs is significantly higher than the correlations between purpose in life and other self-serving beliefs (except understanding function). Of course, one noticeably odd finding is that there seems to be no difference between the correlation between purpose in life and prosocial beliefs, and the correlation between purpose in life and understanding function (Table 1). The correlation between understanding function and prosocial value function is also high (r = 0.61, p < 0.001). In some sense, it can be argued that understanding function is not entirely self-serving. Hunter and Csikszentmihalyi[27] showed that adolescents with a higher level of learning attitudes tend to be concerned about people around them and the world (p. 33). Empathy and altruism were viewed as related. One element of empathy is perspective taking, which involves active understanding of people. Empathy induced by understanding social problems, especially social injustice, importance of human relationships, and worth of persons, is a prerequisite for active community participation[28]. Understanding function and prosocial value are thus related. One item of the RV is, in fact, related to understanding social problems (“I can learn more about social problems through volunteering”). The above arguments and evidence suggest that understanding may not be entirely a self-serving function. The findings showed that there is a significant relationship between purpose in life and intention to volunteer, and that participants with “high” vs. “low” levels of purpose in life differed in their respective intentions to volunteer (i.e., Research Question 2). The current study is the first of its kind to investigate the relationship between volunteering intention and purpose in life. Similar to other studies[10,16], the 0.14* 0.27* 0.33* 0.21* 0.33* 0.33* 0.05** Self-Serving Beliefs on Volunteerism Other-Serving Beliefs on Volunteerism Volunteering Intention Purpose in Life 0.00 0.03** Service Hours R 2 = 0.11 *p < 0.001 **p < 0.05 Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 864 present study also showed that purpose in life is related to volunteering behavior (i.e., Research Question 3). Similar to the findings of Shek, Ma, and Cheung[10], adolescents with a high level of purpose in life took part in more volunteering behavior than adolescents with a low level of purpose in life. The high correlation between purpose in life and intention/behavior can be explained by the existential perspective. Reker and Wong[2] suggested that people with a higher level of purpose in life devote more time to service and commitment to a larger social cause. The tendency to serve is stronger. This implies that not only one’s behavior is affected by purpose in life; the corresponding intention is also affected. Given the lack of research between adolescent volunteerism and purpose in life, this is a significant theoretical contribution to existing literature. Finally, the findings showed that purpose in life, volunteering beliefs, volunteering intention, and volunteering behavior were inter-related. The established belief-intention-behavior link concurred with the predictions of the cognitive-motivational perspective[21]. The path model suggests that other-serving beliefs can predict service hours directly, whereas self-serving beliefs must exert their influence on behavior through the mediation of volunteering intention. This highlights the importance of prosocial beliefs in the role of volunteering behavior. In addition, it should be noted that the correlation between purpose in life and volunteering behavior is only 0.08, while the variance explained is 0.006. The current model, which incorporates beliefs and intention, increases the prediction to 0.11. The present findings suggest that in addition to behavior, beliefs and intention are also essential in examining the relationship between volunteerism and purpose in life. Several practical implications can be derived from the study. First, the present findings suggest that prosocial beliefs rather than self-serving beliefs should be emphasized in volunteer service training. Second, the means to enhance both beliefs and intention in an attempt to promote volunteering behavior could be devised. Third, the means to enhance purpose in life should be devised as well. In particular, positive youth development programs[29] should be developed to focus on purpose in life, prosocial beliefs on volunteerism, and volunteering intention. Volunteer services with adolescent volunteers should be arranged with the consideration of volunteering beliefs and intention. There are several limitations of the present study. First, because of the cross-sectional nature of the study, the relationship between purpose in life and volunteerism can be bidirectional in nature. As such, longitudinal studies[18] can gain more insights into the understanding of the relationship. Second, an abridged 7-item version of the Purpose in Life Scale instead of the 20-item full form was used in this study. The scale in full form consists of two factors, namely, “purpose of existence” and “quality of existence”[11]. Obviously, a more detailed understanding can be derived from the unabridged version of the form. Third, as the study adopted a large sample with 5,946 participants chosen through convenience sampling, the generalizability of the current findings should be examined with caution. Despite the limitations, with reference to the comment of Thoits and Hewitt[18] that the relationship between personal well-being (quality of life) and volunteering “has not often been examined in the literature” (p. 117), the present study can be regarded as a constructive response to the literature on quality of life. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This paper is based on the Ph.D. thesis of the first author under the supervision of the second author. The preparation for this paper was financially supported by Wofoo Foundation Limited. REFERENCES 1. Warren, R. (2006) The Purpose Driven Life. HarperCollins, New York. 2. Reker, G.T. and Wong, P.T.P. (1988) Aging as an individual process: toward a theory of personal meaning. In Emergent Theories of Aging. Birren, J.E. and Bengtson, V.L., Eds. Springer, New York. pp. 214–246. 3. Yalom, I.D. (1980) Existential Psychotherapy. Basic Books, New York. Law and Shek: Volunteering in Chinese Adolescents TheScientificWorldJOURNAL (2009) 9, 855–856 865 4. Shek, D.T.L. (In press) Life meaning and purpose in life among Chinese adolescents: what can we learn from Chinese studies in Hong Kong. In The Human Quest for Meaning: A Handbook of Psychological Research and Clinical Applications. Wong, P.T.P. and Fry, P.S., Eds. Erlbaum, Mahwah, NJ. 5. Kroger, J. (2003) Identity development during adolescence. In Blackwell Handbook of Adolescence. Adams, G.R. and Berzonsky, M.D., Eds. Blackwell, Malden, MA. pp. 205–226. 6. McWhirter, J.J., McWhirter, B.T., McWhirter, A.M., and McWhirter, E.H. (1994) High- and low-risk characteristics of youth: the 5Cs of competency. Elem. Sch. Guidance Counsel. 28(3), 188–196. 7. Benson, P.L., Roehlkepartain, E.C., and Rude, S.P. (2003) Spiritual development in childhood and adolescence: toward a field of inquiry. Appl. Dev. Sci. 7(3), 205–213. 8. Frankl, V.E. (2000) Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning. Perseus, Cambridge, MA. 9. Harlow, L.L., Newcomb, M.D., and Bentler, P.M. (1986) Depression, self-derogation, substance use, and suicide ideation: lack of purpose in life as a mediational factor. J. Clin. Psychol. 42(1), 5–21. 10. Shek, D.T.L., Ma, H.K., and Cheung, P.C. (1994) Meaning in life and adolescent antisocial and prosocial behavior in a Chinese context. Psychologia 37(4), 211–218. 11. Shek, D.T.L. (1992) Meaning in life and psychological well-being: an empirical study using the Chinese version of the Purpose in Life Questionnaire. J. Genet. Psychol. 153(2), 185–200. 12. Keyes, C.L.M. and Ryff, C.D. (1999) Psychological well-being in midlife. In Life in the Middle. Willis, S.L. and Reid, R.D., Eds. Academic Press, San Diego, CA. pp. 161–180. 13. Emmons, R.A. (1999) The Psychology of Ultimate Concerns. The Guilford Press, New York. 14. Shek, D.T.L., Siu, A.M.H., and Lee, T.Y. (2007) The Chinese Positive Youth Development Scale: a validation study. Res. Soc. Work Pract. 17(3), 380–391. 15. Law, M.F.B. (2008) Volunteer Service Participation among Secondary School Students in Hong Kong [Ph.D. dissertation]. The Chinese University of Hong Kong. Unpublished. 16. Magen, Z. and Aharoni, R. (1991) Adolescents’ contributing toward others: relationship to positive experiences and transpersonal commitment. J. Humanist. Psychol. 31(2), 126–143. 17. Weinstein, L., Xie, X., and Cleanthous, C.C. (1995) Purpose in life, boredom and volunteerism in a group of retirees. Psychol. Rep. 76(2), 482. 18. Thoits, P.A. and Hewitt, L.N. (2001) Volunteer work and well-being. J. Health Soc. Behav. 42(June), 115–131. 19. Eccles, J.S. and Barber, B.L. (1999) Student council, volunteering, basketball, or marching band: what kind of extracurricular involvement matters? J. Adolesc. Res. 14(1), 10–43. 20. Flanagan, A.C. et al. (1998) Ties that bind: correlates of adolescents’ civic commitments in seven countries. J. Soc. Issues 54(3), 457–475. 21. Olson, J.M. and Zanna, M.P. (1993) Attitudes and attitude change. Annu. Rev. Psychol. 44, 117–154. 22. Clary, E.G., Snyder, M., Ridge, R.D., Copeland, J., Stukas, A.A., Haugen, J., et al. (1998) Understanding and assessing the motivations of volunteers: a functional approach. J. Soc. Pers. Psychol. 74(6), 1516–1530. 23. Ajzen, I. (2002) Perceived behavioral control, self-efficacy, locus of control, and the theory of planner behavior. J. Appl. Soc. Psychol. 32(4), 665–683. 24. Glasman, L.R. and Albarracin, D. (2006) Forming attitudes that predict future behavior: a meta-analysis of the attitude-behavior relation. Psychol. Bull. 132(5), 778–822. 25. Hodgkinson, V.A. (1995) Key factors influencing care, involvement, and community. In Care and Community in Modern Society: Passing on the Tradition of Service to Future Generations. Schervish, P.G., Hodgkinson, V.A., and Gates, M., Eds. Jossey-Bass, San Francisco. pp. 21–50. 26. Crumbaugh, J.C. and Maholick, L.T. (1964) An experimental study in existentialism: the psychometric approach to Frankl’s concept of noogenic neurosis. J. Clin. Psychol. 20, 200–207. 27. Hunter, J.P. and Csikszentmihalyi, M. (2003) The positive psychology of interested adolescents. J. Youth Adolesc. 32(1), 27–35. 28. Allen-Meares, P. (2004) Social Work Services in Schools. Allyn and Bacon, Boston. 29. Catalano, R.F., Berglund, M.L., Ryan, J.A.M., Lonczak, H.S., and Hawkins, J.D. (2004) Positive youth development in the United States: research findings on evaluations of positive youth development programs. Ann. Am. Acad. Polit. Soc. Sci. 591, 98–124. This article should be cited as follows: Law, B.M.F. and Shek, D.T.L. (2009) Beliefs about volunteerism, volunteering intention, volunteering behavior, and purpose in life among Chinese adolescents in Hong Kong. TheScientificWorldJOURNAL: TSW Child Health & Human Development 9, 855–856. DOI 10.1100/tsw.2009.32. 
work_eype4bcpjnd2thyxlvicnw6p5e	----	doi:10.1016/S0741-5214(03)00465-8 CLINICAL RESEARCH STUDIES From the Southern Association for Vascular Surgery Leadership in difficult times James M. Seeger, MD, Gainesville, Fla When I began to consider what to speak about in this address, I decided that I would not spend time reviewing the difficulties we face in the current practice of vascular surgery. We don’t need another recitation of how bad things are. Change is a constant, and challenges are what make life interesting, although I am sure that we all wish that things were not so interesting at times. However, it was important to choose a topic that had at least some relevance to our professional lives, as for each of us our profession activities make up such a substantial portion of our exis- tence. And so I chose to address the topic of leadership, in particular, leadership in difficult times. Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “There is properly no history, only biography.” To me, this means that despite external forces that at times seem both uncontrollable and larger than the people affected by those forces, events and outcomes are profoundly shaped by the individuals in- volved. Furthermore, the most difficult times often result in emergence of the best leaders, and the quality of the leadership in such situations most clearly influences out- come. This has become more and more evident to me as I have observed the organizations with which I have been associated during my career. It has seemed to me that often we chose our leaders on the basis of criteria other than their leadership skills and that people who seek leadership posi- tions at times do so for the wrong reasons. In the health care environment of the past, it may have been acceptable for our leaders to have poor leadership skills or to “learn on the job.” But now the environment has changed. Now the people selected for leadership positions in our profession must be successful leaders in difficult times. However, the question is, How do we identify such individuals, and what are the characteristics of a leader that result in success of the organizations or ventures that he or she leads? To try to answer this question, I would like to share with you some leadership lessons from the history of explo- ration of our globe, in particular, the exploration of the earth’s polar regions, some of the last places on the surface of the earth to be visited by human beings. The story of the exploration of the polar regions represents some of the best and worst examples of leadership in difficult circumstances. In addition, these were the last great adventures in which small groups of individuals could accomplish something truly unique in the exploration of our surroundings. How- ever, despite the allure of adventure associated with polar exploration, the polar regions of our planet are harsh, unforgiving places that severely test an individual’s organi- zation and leadership skills, and extract the ultimate price for failure. Because of this, many who have studied leader- ship, in particular, leadership in difficult times, have turned to the history of polar exploration and the stories of the individuals involved to understand and to teach us what makes a truly great leader. The initial recorded visits to the earth’s polar regions were to the arctic by the Greeks in the fourth century BC and by the Norwegian Vikings in the Middle Ages.1 However, the full flowering of polar exploration did not occur until the 1700s and 1800s, when, driven by a desire for a short route to the riches of the glorious East, multiple English expeditions were undertaken in a futile search for the Northwest Passage and the mystical North Polar Sea. These were primarily Royal Navy expeditions, and success in such ventures became an alternate route to promotion in that peerage-clogged organization. Exploration of the southern polar region also was undertaken during this time, and James Cook, a Royal Naval Officer, attempted to reach the southern Arctic continent in 1773 and 1774. However, he was turned back by ice, and it was not until 1820 that Edward Barnsfield, another Royal Naval Officer, first set foot on the antarctic continent. Subsequently, in 1834 James Clark Ross, also a Royal Naval Officer, mapped a portion of the coast of the continent, sited the great vol- cano Mount Erebus, and discovered the Great Ice Barrier, the Ross Sea, and the Weddell Sea. Polar exploration then shifted again to the North, driven by the search for Sir John Franklin and his 128 men, who died of exposure and From the Division of Vascular Surgery, Department of Surgery, University of Florida. Competition of interest: none. Presented at the Twenty-seventh Annual Meeting of the Southern Associa- tion for Vascular Surgery, Tucson, Ariz, Jan 15-18, 2003. Reprint requests: J. M. Seeger, MD, University of Florida, Vascular Surgery, Box 100286, JHMC, 1600 Archer Rd, Gainesville, FL 32610 (e-mail: seeger@surgery.ufl.edu). J Vasc Surg 2003;38:413-21. Copyright © 2003 by The Society for Vascular Surgery. 0741-5214/2003/$30.00 � 0 doi:10.1016/S0741-5214(03)00465-8 413 Fig 1. A, Robert Falcon Scott in 1909, before his last expedition. (From Huntford R. The last place on earth. New York: Atheneum Press; 1985. [Original title: Scott and Amundsen. Fairfield, Pa: Fairfield Graphics, 1979.]) B, Roald Amundsen. (From Huntford R, Jacobsen A-C. The Amundsen photographs. New York, NY: The Atlantic Monthly Press; 1987. p 169.) C, Sir Ernest Shackleton. (From Alexander C. 1998. The Endurance: Shackleton’s legendary Antarctic expedition. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf; 1998.) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY September 2003414 Seeger starvation between 1848 and 1850 while again searching for the Northwest Passage. Franklin’s expedition ended the era of polar expedition funded by the Royal Navy, because the cost had become too high and the embarrassment from incompetence too great to bear. In the south, not much more of significance happened until the geographic North Pole was finally reached by the American Robert Peary in 1909. After this, only the South Pole remained to be taken, and the exploration of the “last place on earth” began in earnest. Explorations of Antarctica in the early 20th century would be the greatest challenge faced by polar explorers, because the antarctic continent is the coldest (�128.6°F), windiest, and driest place on earth.1 Three interesting and very different men, Robert Falcon Scott of England (Fig 1, A), Roald Amundsen of Norway (Fig 1, B), and Earnest Fig 2. Amundsen’s route to the South Pole. (From Huntford R. The last place on earth. New York: Atheneum Press; 1985. p 449. [Original title: Scott and Amundsen. Fairfield, Pa: Fairfield Graphics, 1979.]) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 38, Number 3 Seeger 415 Shackleton of Ireland (Fig 1, C), dominated these explora- tions. Scott, accompanied by Shackleton, first went south in 1902-1903, leading the Discovery Expedition, which included a heroic but ill-conceived and ill-managed sledge journey that, while reaching a new farthest south point of 82°17�, almost ended in tragedy.1 Subsequently Shackle- ton returned in 1907-1908 to lead the Nimrod Expedition, in which the magnetic South Pole was discovered, climbed Mount Erebus, and first explored King Edward Land. During this expedition Shackleton also led a sledge journey to within 97 miles of the geographic south pole, but turned back, almost within sight of his goal, to save the lives of the expedition members. These initial expeditions to explore the antarctic continent set the stage for the race between Amundsen and Scott to be the first to reach the South Pole and the subsequent attempt by Shackleton to be the first to cross the antarctic continent. Roald Amundsen devoted his life to making himself a “professional” polar explorer.1 Amundsen was an expert skier and arctic outdoorsman who “apprenticed” aboard whaling ships in the arctic, and was the second mate on Belgica when, in 1898-1899, she became the first ship to winter over in the antarctic pack ice. He then lead the Gjoa Expedition, between 1903 and 1906, during which he spent 3 years drifting through the arctic pack ice and demonstrated for the first time the presence of the fabled, but impassable, Northwest Sea passage. During the Gjoa Expedition Amundsen studied the methods by which the Eskimo lived and prospered at high latitude, acquiring many aspects of their clothing, dog driving skills, and diet. He then spent 2 years meticulously planning an attempt to reach the South Pole, carefully selecting the men for his expedition and refining every aspect of equipment, from clothing to dogs to sledges to food. Furthermore, he was by then a seasoned leader who led by force of personality; respected the man, not the rank; selected men for his expedition on the basis of their expertise and previous arctic experience; and was personally involved in every detail of the expedition. Amundsen began his journey to the South Pole from the Bay of Whales in the Ross Ice Barrier on October 15, 1911, after spending the previous winter preparing at Framheim, his base on the Ross Ice Barrier (Fig 2).1 During the previous antarctic summer and fall he had established depots with almost two tons of supplies on the Ross Ice Shelf at latitudes 80°, 81°, and 82° along his planned route. He also had carefully marked both the locations of these depots and his proposed route south across the ice shelf the next summer. His attempt to reach the South Pole was thus carefully planned and included a large margin of safety in supplies, tried and tested arctic equipment, and a polar crew experienced in travel in the arctic regions. His men were expert skiers (one was a cross-country champion) and sledge dog drivers, and they used the method of polar travel perfected by the Norwegians, that is, men skiing beside sledges pulled by Eskimo dogs. They crossed the Ross Ice Barrier and reached the trans-Antarctic Mountains on November 17, there discov- ering and climbing the Axel Heiberg glacier, and reached the antarctic plateau on November 30. Two weeks later, on December 15, 1911, they reached the geographic South Pole (Fig 3). After spending 3 days at the pole they re- turned by the route that they had pioneered, arriving back at Framheim on January 26, 1912. They and their remain- ing dogs arrived at their base fit and healthy after traveling 1400 miles over the ice barrier and polar plateau. Despite later being criticized for making their journey appear “too easy,” they had climbed an unmapped glacier that even today is not used as an approach to the antarctic plateau; endured fog, blizzards, and temperatures to 20 degrees below zero; and had not only survived, but prospered, while exposed to the harshest climate on earth for more than 3 months. Robert Falcon Scott was a Royal Navy Officer who came to polar exploration as a means for attaining promo- tion when it seemed unlikely that he would achieve rank through traditional means.1 Although he had spent 2 years in the Antarctic leading the first major British expedition to that region, he remained largely an amateur polar explorer. He could not ski, did not believe that dogs could be successfully used to pull sledges in the Arctic, and believed that improvisation was better than careful planning, as was the philosophy of the British Navy of the time. Further- more, he led on the basis of the authority of his rank, and selected men for the expedition who understood Navy discipline and who would not compete with him for lead- ership, although most had little if any polar experience. He also chose to use Siberian ponies to pull his sledges in his attempt to reach the South Pole, because that was what Shackleton had done on the expedition that came within 97 Fig 3. Norwegians at the South Pole. Left to right, Oscar Wisting, Olav Bjaaland, Sverre Hassel, Roald Amundsen. (From Huntford R. The last place on earth. New York: Atheneum Press; 1985. [Original title: Scott and Amundsen. Fairfield, Pa: Fairfield Graph- ics, 1979.]) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY September 2003416 Seeger miles of the pole. In addition, he brought with him three untested motor sledges, the first attempted use of motor- ized transport in polar exploration, but ultimately thought that hauling by men was the romantic ideal of the true arctic explorer. Scott began his journey to the South Pole on Novem- ber 1, 1911, from Hut Point, where he had wintered over next to McMurdo Sound (Fig 4).1 However, rather than preparing for their journey to the pole during the previous winter, as Amundsen had done, Scott and his men spent the time in pleasant diversions such as publishing a newspaper and listening to lectures on nonpolar topics. In addition, they had been eating a civilized diet of canned food brought from England that was low in vitamin C and B. Fig 4. Scott’s route to the South Pole. (From Huntford R. The last place on earth. New York: Atheneum Press; 1985. p 447. [Original title: Scott and Amundsen. Fairfield, Pa: Fairfield Graphics, 1979.]) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 38, Number 3 Seeger 417 Scott did not ascribe to the theory of the American physi- cian-explorer Cook that fresh meat prevented scurvy, de- spite Dr Cook’s successful treatment of scurvy with fresh seal meat during the Belgica expedition. Furthermore, also in contrast to Amundsen, Scott had layed down only one depot of one ton of supplies on the Ross Ice Barrier the previous summer, and even up to the start of his journey south had not planned his route in more than the general terms of following the route Shackleton had taken. He also had not entirely decided how supplies used on the outward journey would be replenished for use during the return trip to safety. Five days after starting, just past corner camp, the motor sledges on which Scott’s “dream of great help from the machines” rested, broke down, and Siberian ponies, with their nearest natural food source 2000 miles away, became the only transport other than man hauling for the expedition. Scott had dogs with him, but did not really believe in using them to pull sledges in the arctic. He therefore used his dog sledges primarily for carrying fodder for the ponies until they were no longer needed, then sent the dog sledges back to be used to supply the barrier depots for the return journey from the pole, a plan he devised only after his party was on the Ross Ice Barrier. At the base of Beardmore Glacier, the pony fodder was gone, and they were shot and stored for meat on the return journey. Man hauling then became the only transport for the remainder of the expedition, including the climb up the glacier to the Antarctic Plateau. Hauling an average of 200 pounds per man, this took 11 agonizing days. At that point the final support party turned back, and Scott, Oates, Bowers, Wil- son, and Evans, rather than a planned polar party of only four, began the last 150 miles of the journey to the pole. They were already beginning to suffer from vitamin defi- ciency and were losing weight from inadequate food to support the grueling work of man hauling sledges up to 14 hours per day. Furthermore, they had begun to eat the food planned for the plateau journey while they were still on the barrier, and now there was also one more mouth to feed on the remainder of the journey to the pole. In addition, there was significant dissention in the group, exacerbated by Scott’s isolation and leadership style. On January 17, 1912, they reached the pole, to find that the Norwegians had beaten them there by more than a month. Scott wrote in his diary, “Great God! This is an awful place, and terrible enough to have labored to it without the reward of priority.” They spent only 1 day at the pole, then began the desperate return journey and the effort to find the return supply depots that had been placed too far apart, contained too little food, and were poorly marked. They were too malnourished, too sick with scurvy, and too worn out from man hauling to accomplish this. On February 5 Evans died, potentially as the result of a cerebral hemorrhage secondary to a fall made more likely from scurvy. On March 17 Oates broke down completely, and crawled out of the tent into the snow, never to be seen again. Finally, on March 21, Scott, Bowers, and Wilson died in their tent, only 11 miles from the one ton depot. Their bodies were found the next spring; Oates’ body was never discovered. They were buried where they lay, under a large cairn built over the tent that was their last resting place (Fig 5). The publication of Scott’s edited journal made him an overnight hero. He was hailed as a romantic polar explorer who gave his life and the lives of his companions in a noble quest. He was made a hero by the English opinion leaders of the time as a “glorious failure,” and the evidence of his weakness as a leader was suppressed to fit this roman- tic ideal. Once Amundsen had taken the South Pole, only one great adventure of Antarctic exploration remained, a trans- continental crossing. In December 1914 Earnest Shackle- ton, who had come so close to being the first man to reach the South Pole, set out to do this aboard the ship Endur- ance.2 Shackleton, like Scott, was also an amateur polar ex- plorer, although he became and remained a polar explorer because, as he told his wife, “it was the thing I am best at.” Furthermore, he had learned much about survival in the harsh antarctic environment from his previous polar expe- ditions. The son of a Quaker physician and a nurturing Irish mother, he had grown up in a decidedly feminine house- hold with eight sisters, numerous aunts, and his grand- mother. He left school early to join the Merchant Marine, and gained his masters certificate by age 24 years. He also had spent much of his life before this expedition con- sciously teaching himself to be a good leader of men, particularly in difficult circumstances. The Endurance left St. George’s Island in the South Atlantic Ocean on December 5, 1914, and entered the antarctic pack ice on December 7 (Fig 6).2 The pack ice Fig 5. Cairn marking the site of Robert Falcon Scott’s tent. (From Collection of Sir Joseph James Kinsey: Antarctic and mountaineer- ing photographs. 1912. [PAColl-5011]. Reference number PA1- f-066-086-3. Alexander Turnbull Library, National Library of New Zealand, Wellington, New Zealand, Te Puna Matauranga o Aotearoa. With permission.) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY September 2003418 Seeger that season was the worst in years, and by January 27, 1915, despite all of the efforts of the crew, the ship was frozen in the ice, only 80 miles from their intended landing site at Vahset Bay. They wintered over in the relative comfort of the ship while they drifted, trapped in the pack ice in the Weddell Sea, expecting to continue their expedition when the ship was released from the ice the next spring. However, the coming of spring and the return of the sun did not result in the ship being freed from the ice. Rather, the spring and summer storms and partial breakup of the ice significantly increased the pressure of the ice on the ship, and her hull began to crack. On October 27, 1915, the ship was finally crushed by the pack ice, and sank on November 21, leaving Shackleton and his 28 men stranded on the Antarctic sea ice, 180 miles from nearest land and 1000 miles from the nearest human being. To try to survive and get themselves home, they had only the limited supplies that they could salvage from the ship before it sank, and the ship’s three lifeboats. Shackleton’s reaction to this tragedy was to call his men together, explain the reality of situation, and say, “So now we will go home.” After first attempting to man haul their boats and supplies to land, they drifted on the ice floes for almost 7 months. Despite their dire situation, their time on the ice at Ocean Camp was relatively pleasant, and they always had confidence that “the boss” would get them home. When the pack ice finally broke up on April 9, 1916, they took to the lifeboats, and sailed and rowed the dangerously over- loaded boats continuously for 6 days to reach Elephant Island, setting foot on solid land on April 15 for the first time in more than 16 months. Elephant Island was deserted and so isolated that it was unlikely that they would be discovered there. It was also evident that, as the pack ice began to expand around the island in the coming antarctic winter, seals and penguins, on which they depended for food, would become increasingly scarce. Shackleton therefore decided they must attempt to reach the whaling station on St. George’s Island, from Fig 6. The journey of the Endurance crew. (From Alexander C. The Endurance: Shackleton’s legendary Antarctic expedition. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf; 1998. Map from National Geographic Maps, National Geographic Image Collection, 1998.) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 38, Number 3 Seeger 419 which a rescue operation could be mounted. To do this, they refitted the largest of the lifeboats, the James Caird, adding decking from packing crates to make it dryer and more seaworthy, and loading it with rocks for ballast. Shackleton and four companions, including Wolsley, the former captain of the Endurance, set out on May 2, 1916, to attempt an 800 mile journey in an open 221⁄2 foot boat over the most dangerous ocean in the world. Because of clouds and storms, Wolsley was only able to take two sextant readings during the journey, but using those fixes and superb dead reckoning, they arrived at St. George’s Island on May 10, and safely landed the next day. Had they missed the island, they and likely all of the men on Elephant Island would have died, because past St. George’s Island was only open sea. That boat journey is now recognized as one of the greatest small boat voyages ever undertaken. Unfortunately, they had landed on the opposite side of St. George’s Island from the whaling station, and it was too dangerous to attempt to sail to the other side. Therefore Shackleton and the two of his men who were still able to travel set out at 2:00 AM on May 19, 1916, to cross the heart of the island on foot. They crossed mountains and glaciers that were not subsequently crossed until the 1950s by professional mountain climbers, and reached Stromness Whaling Station on May 20. The foreman took them to the station manager, whom Shackleton knew, and when Shack- leton asked the station manager if he knew him, the man- ager replied, “Who the hell are you?” Shackleton replied, “My name is Shackleton.” The foreman turned aside and wept. A boat was dispatched to collect the remainder of the James Caird crew from the opposite side of the island. The situation for the remaining men on Elephant Is- land was still bleak. Thus, despite the long and arduous boat journey that he had just completed, Shackleton imme- diately set out to organize their rescue. Finally, after several failed attempts and numerous delays, he returned to Ele- phant Island on August 30, 1916, to retrieve the remainder of his crew (Fig 7). Despite almost 2 years on the ice, with innumerable hardships and dangers, everyone returned alive. Because of the “failure” of the planned trans-Antarc- tic crossing, Shackleton’s exploits were largely ignored until recently, when the remarkable nature of his leadership in keeping his men together as a team and managing against almost impossible odds to lead them all safely home has begun to be studied. Shackleton’s accomplishment is now recognized as one of the greatest feats of leadership in the history of polar exploration, if not for all times. As was well said by British explorer Apsley Cherry-Garrord, a member of Scott’s tragic polar expedition, “and if I am in the devil of a hole and want to get out of it, give me Shackleton every time.” What lessons from these stories of exploration of the Antarctic continent at the turn of the 20th century and the men who led them can be applied to the challenges we face today? The first and most obvious lesson is that good leadership makes the difference.3,4 Amundsen won the race to the pole because he was better prepared, better equipped, and led a “happier” group than Scott. His work as the leader of that expedition made what was a long and dangerous journey to the heart of an entirely unknown continent in one of the harshest climates on earth look “easy.” In contrast, Scott’s failure as a leader, because of poorly planning his expedition, leaving too narrow a margin of safety, and limiting the effectiveness of his sledge journey team by using poor equipment, meth- ods, and leadership techniques, cost the entire group their lives. More strikingly, Shackleton, almost entirely through his leadership skills, saved his entire crew after their ship was crushed, and brought them home despite almost insur- mountable obstacles. Perhaps Shackleton’s greatest at- tribute in this accomplishment was the ability to keep his men focused, optimistic about survival, and working as a team toward the goal of getting home safely, for almost 2 years, when they were constantly wet, cold, hungry, and in imminent danger of death. Numerous other expeditions to the polar regions, beset by problems less severe than those faced by Shackleton’s group, met with tragedy. If leadership is of paramount importance in the success or failure of organizations and ventures, what are the char- acteristics of successful leaders, particularly in difficult times? To be successful, leaders must be visible and set a personal example; must be optimistic but grounded; must be scrupulously fair and minimize status differences; must master conflict; must be willing to take risks, while being ever concerned about the well-being of those they lead; must never lose sight of the ultimate goal, while adapting to changing circumstances; and must never give up (Table).3,4 Furthermore, they must always remember that leadership is a responsibility, not a privilege. As Shackleton said, “leaders Fig 7. Rescue from Elephant Island. Picture from “30 August, Wednesday, Day of Wonders,” Hurley diary. (From Alexander C. The Endurance: Shackleton’s legendary Antarctic expedition. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf; 1998. p 203.) JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY September 2003420 Seeger face a thankless and lonely job, especially in hard times.”3 Leadership is something that, at least in part, must be learned and must constantly be developed. Some individu- als may be born with the talent for leadership, but without educating themselves they will likely be ineffective. Identi- fying and selecting good leaders is a remarkable challenge, but we must successfully accomplish this task if our organi- zations and ventures are to succeed. Although we as a profession and specialty are facing difficult times, we must remind ourselves that time and demographics are on our side. Patients need what we can do, and in the future even more patients will seek our care. Though we may well be doing different things in the future, those likely will be more interesting and exciting things, as our new generation of vascular surgeons under- stands. Good leadership will take us through these difficult times, just as Amundsen safely led his men on the first successful visit to the geographic South Pole and Shackle- ton led his men to safety after being stranded on the Antarctic pack ice 1000 miles from civilization. Although the stories of these men who first explored the “last place on earth” are almost 100 years old, they still have much to teach us. REFERENCES 1. Huntford R. The last place on earth. New York: Atheneum Press; 1985. [Original title: Scott and Amundsen. Fairfield, Pa: Fairfield Graphics, 1979.]. 2. Alexander C. The Endurance: Shackleton’s legendary Antarctic expedi- tion. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf, 1998. 3. Morrell M, Capperell S. 2001. Shakleton’s way. New York, NY: Penguin Books; 2001. 4. Perkins D. 2000. Leading at the edge: leadership lessons from the extraordinary saga of Shakleton’s Antarctic expedition. New York, NY: American Management Association. Submitted Mar 18, 2003; accepted Mar 19, 2003. ANNOUNCING A NEW SECTION: VASCULAR IMAGES The Vascular Images section presents interesting vascular images and associated short educational summaries in a focused, case report format. One of the images will be chosen for the cover of each issue of the Journal. Submission of color illustrations suitable for the Journal cover is encouraged. Appropriate images include radiographs, pathology, anatomy, operative findings, and other relevant clinical pictures. The images should illustrate features of vascular disease, including technical approaches. Illustrations and text must be confined to one printed page (no more than 350 words; perhaps less depending on the number and size of illustrations), and images for the cover should possess both scientific and artistic merit. Descriptions of images must be included in the text, and only key references should be provided (with a limit of two). Images must be of professional quality and should be provided electronically in either TIFF or EPS format and uploaded (with the rest of the manuscript) via the Editorial Manager electronic submission system at http://jvs.editorialmanager.com. Detailed artwork instructions and help with formatting, sizing, scanning, and file naming can be found at http://www.elsevier.nl/homepage/sab/artwork. A high- quality print or computer-generated image of each illustration must be submitted to the Journal office for accepted submissions, even though the illustrations have been submitted previously via Editorial Manager. For more information regarding hard copy requirements, please see “Guidelines to Complete Submission of an Accepted Manuscript” at http://jvs.editorialmanager.com. Contributions for the Vascular Images section are now invited. Qualities necessary for leadership in difficult times ● Be visible/personally involved ● Be optimistic but grounded ● Be scrupulously fair ● Minimize status differences/respect the individual ● Master conflict ● Balance safety and risk ● Be focused but adaptable ● Never give up JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 38, Number 3 Seeger 421 Leadership in difficult times REFERENCES 
work_ez7ippxhf5fxzirpi4empo7jgu	----	THE CANADIAN JOURNAL OF NEUROLOGICAL SCIENCES PRINCIPLES OF CNS DRUG DEVELOPMENT: FROM TEST TUBE TO PATIENT. 2009. By John Kelly. Published by John Wiley & Sons Ltd. 304 pages. C$180 approx. Rated f&?& Neuroscience research, like most areas of biomedical research in the 21st Century, is under increasing pressure to become more "translational". Arising from the relentless need to convert curiosity driven research into products, expressions such as "bench to bedside" or "principle to patient" are used frequently, but optimistically. Successful translational research is challenging for both basic and clinical scientists as they endeavour to take their fundamental insights and convert them into useful drug molecules or therapeutics. Accordingly, there is an important need for a brutally practical and pragmatic guidebook to take these researchers by the hand and drag them through (more hopefully over) the many potholes on the road from concept to marketable drug product. Although this book purports to be "from test tube to patient", it is definitely not this much needed guidebook for neuroscientists - either basic or clinical. It is however a speciality textbook providing a generally excellent introductory overview (perhaps somewhat superficial in areas) for undergraduate students with little if any knowledge of neuroscience. Over a surprisingly brief 286 pages of text, John Kelly from the Department of Pharmacology at the National University of Ireland (Galway) sets out to delineate the core processes in drug discovery and development for neurological disorders. The nine chapters of the book are divided into three principal sections. The first section (Chapters 1-4) provides an overview of major brain disorders (e.g. depression, Alzheimer's disease, Parkinson's disease, schizo- phrenia) with discussions of their global burden, neurobiological substrates and current pharmacological targets. The second section (Chapters 5-8) pertains to drug development with considerations of pharmacokinetics (i.e. absorption, distribution, metabolism, excretion; ADME), toxicology, efficacy and preclinical studies. The third and final section (Chapter 9) gives a perspective on the future of drug targets and development for neurological disorders. Finally, there is a five page collection of appendices that present a listing of drugs under development. This is a very well written book. It is a clear and easy to follow introductory textbook. The material is straightforward and quite readable. The writing style is succinct and mercifully free of unnecessary verbal adornment. There are lots of facts presented in a logically sequential fashion. Each chapter ends with a solid collection of cited references, which reflect the literature in a comprehensive and up-to-date manner. Virtually every chapter is enhanced by the liberal use of tables. Although several of the tables present uniquely British data, in general the tables provide a wealth of useful additional data. However, unlike the tables, the figures are few in number and are of disappointing quality (below the standards of comparable books). Additional and better executed figures would have added significantly to the presentation. The data that have been presented in this book are accurate and informative. However, the book needs to include more. For example, the test tube to patient presentation goes directly from identifying druggable targets to having drug molecules in hand for preclinical pharmacokinetics and toxicology testing. The entire area of drug design, synthesis and optimization has been completely omitted - and this certainly is a crucial component of the test tube to patient process. A chapter dedicated to the task of going from a druggable target to a drug molecule would be an absolutely essential addition to this textbook. Also, there is marked variability in the depth of presentation; for instance, the discussion of pharmacokinetics is rather sophisticated in places, whereas the discussion of neurotransmitters is very rudimentary, at a high school level at times. Moreover, for a practising neuroscientist, the descriptions of disorders such as Alzheimer's disease or schizophrenia are annoyingly basic, lacking in both nuance and rigour. No matter how well written, no book can meet the needs of all potential readers. If I were teaching an undergraduate (or junior graduate) course on the pharmacology of neurological drug development and were looking for a reasonable introductory text, I would consider reaching for this book. If I were an at-the-bench neuroscientist looking for serious help to assist my translational research aspirations, I would probably leave this book on the shelf. Donald F. Weaver Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada MEMORY IN MIND AND CULTURE. 2009. Edited by Pascal Boyer, James V. Wertsch. Published by Cambridge University Press. 323 pages. C$40 approx. Rated **$ There are many books on memory, most of them on the experimental and clinical aspects or episodic, instru- mental and semantic memory, but this edited volume reflects the surge of interest in autobiograpical memory (AM) and in the collective memories of cultures. This area of memory study seems to some the "soft underbelly" of memory research, with dubious methodology and more social, than hard core neuroscience. Autobiographical memory research began with Galton at the end of the 19th century, who used cue words to probe his own memory and found somewhat to his disappointment, that he always remembered the same things with each cue. He even concluded that his memory was impoverished. The cueing technique was resurrected by Crovitz and Schiffmann in the 70's to elicit life stories. Initially AM had been marginalized and not considered clinically or scientifically as important as episodic or semantic memory. However AM became somewhat trendy lately as this book attests. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120207 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120207 https://www.cambridge.org/core LE JOURNAL CANADIEN DES SCIENCES NEUROLOGIQUES Pascal Boyer in his introduction, sets the stage for the importance of collective memories in the memories of the self. Williams and Conway deal with the role of memories in constructing the self and with the concept of AM networks. There is a vast depository of episodic and self related memories that are intertwined and trigger each other and play a role in developing our identity (as ancient Augustine, quoted later said). Flash-bulb memories such as the 9/11 WTC attacks, the death of Princess Diana or the assassination of JFK are culturally conditioned and are variable between countries. The age related peaks of personal reminiscences on the other hand are surprisingly similar in all cultures, where such studies are carried out. Bernstein and Bohn deals with life scripts, which are culturally shared expectations. In our society these are commonly experiences in school, with family members, marriage, children and jobs. Conflicts in this script also influence AM. This script of expectations unfolds in a stereotypic time sequence and deviations are notable. Happy and important memories have a peak of occurrence in the 15-30 life periods, while sad or anxious remembrances are more evenly distributed and increase with aging. The specificity of memories, priming, and the role of emotions in the encoding process are the subject of Schacter at al's more traditional experimental approach, using neuroimaging to demonstrate the fine tuning of neuronal systems, when they respond to previously heard or familiar material. The memory of self has specific neural network activation in relation to structures, processing emotions. This is a stand-alone contribution. Collective memories and the memory of history are essays comprising a major part of the book, led by Wertsch. Scholarly history has sufficient detachment and makes an effort to see the past from multiple perspectives. Collective remembering on the other hand simplifies and it is often based on myths and shaped by current political and societal considerations. History is far less static than it is conceived. Collective memories however often simplified for political reasons or through social pressures. Even official history is subject to the errors of collective remembering. Historical texts and our temples of history, the museums are repositories of interpreted memories. Many cultures enforce the traditional reiteration of past, biased as it may be, but there are revisionists and reinterpreters of the past in some other cultures such as our own, who are increasing in number and have become very fashionable. Several of the authors in this section are approaching these issues from the sociological and psychological perspective. Repeated retrieval of collective memories becomes history. This occurs in the classrooms, in the media and in commemorations. Roediger et a1 review massive repetition vs. spaced retrival, which may promote retention. Flashbulb memories are so intense and vivid that individuals remember the context for a long time. Collective flashbulb memories are not only important and shocking events, but are frequently reiterated. The subjective aspects, or context seems to be retained better than the core details of the event. Pennebaker and Gonzales also studied historical events that change the life of people and how they are shaped by various factors, such as age cohorts, culture and rehearsal. This group studied internet blogs and chatroom language after the 9/11 attacks. Another interesting study explored what various national student groups considered the ten most important events of the last 100 and 1000 years. The differences are interesting, but not surprisingly the French revolution did not make the American list. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said : "Memory is the affection- we remember the things we love and the things we hate". The emotionality of events shape their memory and so does the time elapsed and their locale. It usually takes about 25-30 years to achieve a balance of the significance of events. Initially memorials, street names were created for JFK in Memphis, but not in Dallas and Dr. King was memorialised in Dallas before Memphis. Historical revisionism works both ways and examples of these are studied in the last section of the book. One can learn for instance that the Canadian victory at Vimy Ridge to a large extent was attributable to "British and French artillery support and months of planning" and the quoted author felt Canadian heroism was overestimated and the battle was only part of a larger one. Early memory researchers such as Bartlett studied the "Chinese Whisper Game" effect of how stories get distorted as they are passed on. An interesting recent phenomena are the government apologies for previous injuries to other communities. It is another "reverse", politically correct, manifestation perhaps of the negative "presentism" or exegesis of history from our current perspective It seems that historical revisionism has no end. Columbus was appreciated little at the beginning, rewarded handsomely for his discovery, than forgotten and later discovered again to became a historical giant, to be re-evaluated recently as an imperialist and the cause of ruin of native peoples. This book is more about how history is constructed than about memory as a neurological phenomenon. It does not update or contribute to the clinical and scientific understanding of the neuropsychological aspects of memory. There are no clinical contributions, although AM has appeared in the clinical literature occasionally. Nevertheless it makes somewhat interesting general reading, while leaving the reader shaken about trusting history, historians or any recollection as a matter of fact. It will be enjoyed by sceptics and anti-establishment activists. Andrew Kertesz London, Ontario, Canada NEW STRATEGIES IN STROKE INTERVENTION. IONIC TRANSPORTERS, PUMPS, AND NEW CHANNELS. 2009. Edited by Lucio Annunziato. Published by Springer. 254 pages. C$195approx. Rated **& There are currently no clinical or experimental interventions, other than thrombolysis, which improve stroke outcome, this despite great advances in an understanding of the mechanisms by which ischemia induces cell damage. Thrombolysis has major limitations including amongst others, its limited therapeutic time-window, the require- ment for neuroimaging prior to initiation of treatment thereby precluding Volume 37, No. 6 - November 2010 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120207 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0317167100120207 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_f2vnr4iplva3zihzjrrgavei4a	----	반건호·배재호·문수진·민정원 - 61 - 시 뇌염에서 살아남은 아이들 중 산만하고 행동이 과다해지 고 충동 조절 및 인지기능 장애가 발생한다는 보고가 1920 년대 초에 다수 발표되었다. 24) 그들은 우울증을 포함한 기분 증상, 틱 증상, 인지 기능 손상으로 인한 학습 장애 등의 다 양한 증상뿐 아니라 반 사회적, 파괴적 행동을 포함한 행동 문제, 주의력 결핍 문제 등의 ADHD에 해당하는 증상들을 보였다. 이는 처음으로 ADHD 유사 증상의 원인으로 신체 적 결함을 고려하게 된 사건이며, 단순한 도덕적 조절 능력 결핍이 아닌 ‘뇌염 후 행동장애(postencephalitic behav- ior disorder)’라는 진단을 내리게 되었다. 25) 그로 인해 출생 당시 선천적 결손이나 주산기 무산소증, 주산기 질병 등이 뇌 의 이른 기질적 손상을 가져오고, 그로 인해 행동상의 문제 나 학습 장애, 주의력 결핍 등을 유발할 수 있다는 인식이 확 산되었다. 26) 이러한 환자들을 단일 질환으로 분류하고 이에 대해 수많은 치료법이 개발되었으나 효과가 없었다. ADHD가 이러한 뇌염 등의 질병에 의해 유발되는 것은 아니지만, 단 순한 도덕적 결함으로 인한 개인적 문제 차원에서 뇌의 기 질적 변화로 인한 질병으로 인식되기 시작했다는 점에서 의 의를 찾을 수 있다. 9. Kramer-Pollnow 증후군 Franz Kramer(1878~1967)와 Hans Pollnow(1902~ 1943)는 1932년 “On a hyperkinetic disease of infan- cy”에서 행동문제가 있는 17명의 아이들(세 명의 소녀 포함) 에 대해 보고하였다. 27) “아이들한테 나타나는 가장 분명한 증상은 엄청난 운동 량이다. 그것도 무척 급하게 행동한다. 잠시도 차분하게 기다 리지 못하고 방 안을 이리저리 뛰어 다닌다. 특히 높은 가구 에 기어올라가는 것을 선호한다. 누군가 말리려 하면 성을 낸 다.” 17) 이러한 내용은 오늘날 ADHD의 주 증상 중 하나인 과잉행동 특성과 상당부분 일치한다. “특별한 목표 없이 하던 행동들은 다른 자극을 받으면 쉽 게 다른 행동으로 넘어가는 산만함을 보인다. 아이들은 과제 를 완수하기가 어렵고 간단한 질문에도 대답을 못한다. 어려 운 과제에 집중하는 것은 대단히 곤란하다. 그러다 보면 학 습에 문제가 생긴다. 지적 능력 평가도 곤란하다.” 17) 이 부분 은 역시 ADHD의 주 증상 중 하나인 주의력결핍에 해당한다. “지속력이 떨어지고 특정 과제에 집중하기도 어렵다. 기분 도 불안정하다. 쉽게 흥분하고 자주 분노를 터뜨리며 별 것 아닌 일에 눈물을 터뜨리거나 공격적으로 변한다.” 17) 이는 ADHD의 충동성향과 부합되는 내용이다. 하지만 “일초도 가만히 있지 못하는 아이의 행동 문제에도 불구하고 자신 들이 좋아하는 과제에는 오랜 시간 집중할 수 있다. 나이가 들면서 과활동성이 소실되거나 감소한다.”는 기술은 충동성 향에 대한 의심을 불러오기도 하는 대목이다. DSM-IV 6) 의 진단 기준 중 “사회적, 학업적, 또는 직업적 기능의 현저한 손상” 대목에 해당하는 내용도 기술한 바 있 다. “과잉행동 아이들은 종종 불복종하는 행동특성이 있으 며, 학습 문제도 심각하다. 학교에서는 학급 수업 진행을 방 해하고 혼란에 빠뜨리며 친구들과 어울려 노는 것이 어렵고 친구 사이에서 왕따 되기 일쑤다.” 17) DSM-IV 6) 의 연령 기준에 대한 부분도 이미 Kramer- Pollnow 증후군 기록에 언급하고 있다. 이들이 보고한 사례 들은 3내지 4세에 과잉행동이 시작되고 6세 경에 절정을 이 룬다고 하였다. 상당수 아이들은 열성 질병이나 간질성 경련 후에 행동 문제가 나타난다는 내용도 기술하였다. 17) Kramer와 Pollnow는 이러한 아이들의 장애를 “아동기 의 과활동성(hyperkinesis of childhood)”라고 지칭하였 다. 이처럼 공격적 행동, 충동성, 혼란스러울 정도의 안절부 절못함, 학습장애 등을 보였으나, 당시 유행하던 뇌염 후 행 동장애와는 차이가 있었다. 뇌염 후 행동장애에서 보이는 수 면장애, 야간에 나타나는 초조감, 이상한 몸동작 등이 없었 고 주간에만 증상을 보였다. 17) 원인적 접근에서 뇌의 장애를 더 고려했다는 점에서 역사 적 가치가 있으나 연구를 진행하던 중, 그들이 모두 유태인이 었기 때문에 나치의 강제 이주가 이루어지면서 후속 연구자 료를 찾기는 어렵다. 27) 하지만 이는 WHO의 질병분류에 영 향을 미쳤고, ‘hyperkinetic’이라는 용어는 ICD-8의 ‘hy- perkinetic disorder’로 이어졌다. 28) 10. ADHD의 치료에 대한 최초 기록, Charles Bradley ADHD 치료와 연구에 가장 획기적인 내용은 1937년 Char- les Bradley라는 정신과의사가 쓴 ‘The behavior of child- ren receiving benzedrine’이라는 논문에서 찾을 수 있 다. 29) 그는 미국 로드아일랜드 주에 위치한 Emma Pend- leton Bradley Home(현재는 Bradley Hospital)의 의료 부장으로 재직하면서 기뇌조영술(pneumoencephalogra- phy) 후에 두통이 있는 아이들을 치료하기 위해 벤제드린(ben- zedrine, 주 : benzedrine은 amphetamine 제제로 1928년 부터 기관지확장제로 시판되었고 흡입형 제제였으며, 현재는 propylhexedrine으로 대체되어 사용되고 있음 30) 을 투여하 였다. 그는 두통이 뇌척수액의 손실로 인해 발생하는 것이라 생각했으며, 따라서 두통을 치료하기 위해서는 맥락총에서 뇌척수액 생산을 촉진시키면 될 것이라고 생각했다. 뇌척수 액 생산을 촉진시키기 위해 당시 사용되고 있던 가장 강력 한 정신 자극제인 벤제드린을 투여하였다. 벤제드린 투여 후 주의력결핍 과잉행동장애의 역사적 고찰 - 62 - 에도 두통은 그다지 호전되지 않았으나, 일부 환아에서 학교 생활에 큰 변화가 있었고 학습효과도 눈에 띄게 좋아졌다. 아이들은 이 약을 “arithmetic pills”로 불렀다. 그러한 아 이들의 행동 변화를 감지한 Bradley는 그의 병원에서 행동 문제를 보이는 30명의 환자들을 대상으로 벤제드린을 투여 하였다. “벤제드린을 투여한 반수의 환자들에서 학교 생활 의 두드러진 호전이 나타났고, 일과 수행에 있어 훨씬 빠르고 정확하게 집중할 수 있게 되었다.”라고 기술하였다. 29) 하지만 당시에는 행동문제 치료에 심리요법이 주류를 이루고 있었 고, 안타깝게도 이러한 약물 효과에 대한 재검증이 이루어지 지 않았다. ADHD 치료약물의 본격적 사용은 그의 논문 발표 후 25 년여가 지나서야 시작되었다. 31) 11. ADHD의 기질적 원인 분석 시도, Minimal brain dysfunction(MBD) ADHD의 원인에 대한 인식이 Still경의 도덕적 결함으로 인한 행동 문제에서 Tredgold의 뇌의 기질적 문제로 인한 행동 문제 32) 로 변화된 이후, Kahn과 Cohen 33) 은 ‘organic drivenness’라는 표현을 사용하기도 하였다. Lewin 34) 은 지 적 기능이 떨어지는 아동과 성인 환자에서 뇌손상과 안절부 절못하는 증상과의 관련성을 제시하였으며, 전두엽을 제거 한 동물실험 결과와 결부시켜 설명하였다. 그 밖에도 뇌염과 감염, 납중독, 경련성 질환 등 뇌에 영향을 미칠 수 있는 다양 한 원인들과 그에 따른 환자들의 행동 문제에 대한 보고가 다 수 발표되었다. 24) 이러한 연구 결과들을 바탕으로 뇌손상과 행동문제의 관련성에 대한 인식이 정착되기 시작하였고, Str- auss와 Lehtinen 35) 은 뇌손상 아동에서 여러 가지 정신증상 이 나타날 수 있으며, 특히 과잉행동과 뇌손상과의 관련성을 지적하고 이러한 증상을 보이는 아동들을 하나의 증후군, minimal brain damage syndrome으로 분류하였다. 오 늘날 주의력결핍증상 중 많은 부분이 이미 그의 논문에서 기술한 증후군과 일치한다. 1950~1960대에 들어서는 ‘두뇌 손상아동 brain-damage children’ 36) , ’미세 뇌손상 mini- mal brain damage’ 37) , ‘미세두뇌기능장애 minimal cereb- ral dysfunction’ 38) , ‘미세뇌기능장애 minimal brain dy- sfunction(MBD)’ 39) 등으로 명명되었고, 그 중 MBD가 가장 흔히 통용되었다. 이렇듯 다양한 명칭과 보고에도 불구하고 여전히 통일된 질병개념은 등장하지 않았다. 24) 12. 주의력저하와 과활동성 치료제의 승인, 리탈린(Ritalin) Bradley가 과활동성, 주의 집중에 장애를 보이는 환자를 대상으로 벤제드린을 투여하여 효과가 있었다는 보고 29) 가 있었으나, 당시 그 결과는 주목 받지 못했다. 하지만 점차 정신 질환 치료에 있어 심리치료 이외에 생물학적 치료의 필요성이 강조되기 시작하였고, 과활동성을 보이는 아동들 의 치료에 있어서도 점차 중추신경자극제의 효과에 대한 관 심이 커지고 있었다. 40) Bradley가 ADHD환자들에 있어 벤제드린의 효과를 발표 한지 25년이 지난 1957년, ADHD 역사에서 가장 획기적 사 건 중 하나가 일어났다. 메틸페니데이트(methylphenidate) 성분의 리탈린이 처음으로 의약품으로 승인된 것이다. 41) 이 약 품은 1944년 Ciba사의 화학자인 Leandro Panizzon이 합 성하였고, 1954년부터 리탈린이라는 이름으로 판매되기 시작 하였다. 리탈린이라는 이름은 Panizzon의 아내의 애칭인 Rita 에서 온 것이라고 한다. 평소 저혈압을 앓고 있던 아내가 테니 스 시합 도중 저혈압으로 쓰러질 것을 우려하여 시합 전 자극 제로 이 약을 사용하였다. 그로 인해 리탈린은 시판 당시 만 성 피로, 기면증, 우울증, 그와 관련된 정신 증상 등에 효과 가 있는 것으로 알려졌다. 그러나 점차 과잉행동이나 주의 산만 증상에 효과가 있음이 알려지면서 이러한 증상을 보이 는 환자들에게 사용되기 시작하였고, 42) 훗날 ADHD치료에서 가장 중요한 역할을 담당하는 약물이 되었다. 하지만 치료가 진행되고 있었음에도 불구하고 질병으로서ADHD의 통일된 개념은 확립되지 않았다. 13. 질병으로서의 ADHD 이렇듯 이미 20세기 초부터 ADHD 개념이 언급되기 시작 하였고 치료 또한 시도되었으나, 현재 사용되는 ADHD 개념 에 접근하기 시작한 것은 1960년대 들어서였다. 과다한 행동 의 의학적 원인에 대한 논의가 지속되고 MBD 개념이 확산 되면서 뇌의 손상이 행동 장애로 이어진다는 가설은 탄력을 받게 되었다. 24) 하지만 행동 문제를 보이는 모든 아동들이 뇌 손상을 가지고 있어야 한다는 이 이론은 많은 비판을 받 게 되었고 뇌 손상의 평가 방법에 대한 논란도 커졌다. 43-45) 또한 뇌 손상이 없는 아동들에서도 행동 문제가 보고되었다. 40) 이러한 논란에도 불구하고 그간 축적된 자료를 바탕으로 미국 정신의학계의 진단체계인 DSM-II(The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental disorders-II) 46) 에서 ‘아동기 과잉행동 반응 hyperkinetic reaction of child- hood’이라는 명칭으로 공식 진단으로 인정하고 다음과 같 은 두 문장으로 정의하였다. “과활동성이고, 안절부절못하고, 산만하고 집중 시간이 짧은 소아들. 행동은 대개 청소년기에 감소함.” 하지만 진단명에서 알 수 있듯이 아직도 뇌의 기질 적 원인보다는 주변 자극에 대한 과도한 ‘반응’ 개념으로 이 해하고 있으며, 안타깝지만 그때까지도 ADHD는 청소년기 가 되면 사라지는 문제로 여겼다. DSM-III 47) 에서는 Douglas 48) 가 주장한 것처럼 과잉행동 반건호·배재호·문수진·민정원 - 63 - 보다는 충동조절, 주의력, 각성 영역의 결함에 좀 더 초점을 맞추게 되었고, 그간 MBD 아동에서 문제가 되었던 특수 학습 장애 영역을 ADHD에서 분리시켰다. 진단명도 DSM- II의 ‘반응 reaction’에서 ‘장애 disorder’로 바뀌었다. 하지 만 과잉행동증상에 대한 중요성이 인식되지 않았고, ADD with hyperactivity(ADDH)와 ADD without hyperac- tivity(ADD)로 명명하였다. 두 아형 사이의 임상적 차이가 미미하다는 논란이 지속되었고 과잉행동이 중요한 증상군임 이 받아들여져서, 26) 1987년 DSM-III-R 에서는 두 아형에 대한 개념을 삭제하고, 오늘날 사용되고 있는 주의력결핍 과 잉행동장애(ADHD)로 진단명이 변경되었다. 1) ADD with- out hyperactivity 진단은 미분류 ADD(undifferentiated ADD)로 남았다. 1994년, 개정된 DSM-IV에서도 ADHD라는 명칭은 그대 로 쓰이고 있지만 주의력-결핍 우세형(predominantly inat- tentive type), 과잉행동-충동 우세형(predominantly hy- peractive-impulsive type), 복합형(combined type)의 3 가지 아형으로 분류되었다. 6) 2000년 개정된 DSM-IV-TR 49) 에서도 진단체계는 크게 바뀌지 않았으나, DSM-V에서는 일부 진단 기준 변화와 함께 현재 아형을 없애고 하나의 진단 으로 가는 방안과 기존의 주의력 결핍형 대신 attention de- ficit disorder(ADD) 진단을 채택하는 것을 고려하고 있다. 50) 14. ICD-10과 DSM-IV의 차이 1969년에 ICD-8에서는 주의가 산만하고 과다행동을 보 이는 아동들을 hyperkinetic reaction of childhood로 분류 하였다. 28) 이후 ICD-9에서는 hyperkinetic syndrome으 로, 51) ICD-10에서는 hyperkinetic disorder(HKD)로 분 류하였다. 52) DSM-IV와 ICD-10은 다음과 같은 차이가 있다. 53) 첫째, ICD-10은 DSM-IV보다 진단 기준의 적용을 광범위하고 강력하게 요구한다는 점이다. 둘째, ICD-10은 부주의함, 충 동성, 과활동성의 세 가지 영역을 모두 포함해야 진단할 수 있는 단일질환 개념이지만, DSM-IV에서는 주의력-결핍 우 세형(predominantly inattentive type), 과잉행동-충동 우세형(predominantly hyperactive-impulsive type), 복합형(combined type)으로 그 아형을 분류하고 있어서 위의 세 가지 영역이 모두 충족하지 않는 경우에도 진단을 붙일 수 있다. 셋째, ICD-10은 한 가지 진단만을 붙이도록 되어 있으나, DSM-IV에서는 일부 공존질환을 동시에 진단 하는 것을 허용하고 있다. 두 진단 체계간 차이로 인해 나타나는 결과는 명백한 유 병률의 차이이다. 54-56) Lee 등 53) 은 같은 환자군에서 DSM- IV와 ICD-10 기준을 적용하여 진단할 경우 HDK가 11%, A- DHD 복합형은 47.7%로 더 많이 진단된다고 하였다. HKD 는 ADHD보다 신경발달학적 손상, 학업의 문제, 인지적 장 해가 더 심한 것으로 보고되었고, 55,57) 중추신경자극제 치료 에 더 잘 반응하는 것으로 알려졌다. 58) 15. 성인 ADHD 1960년대 이후 다음과 같은 세 가지 유형의 연구보고가 늘어나면서, 아동은 물론 성인 ADHD에 대한 관심도 늘기 시작하였다. 먼저, MBD 아이들의 장기 추적 관찰에서 이 들 문제가 성인기에도 계속 된다고 보고 하였다. 59) 둘째, 과잉 행동을 보이는 아이들의 부모에 대한 연구가 진행되면서 그 들의 부모 역시 비슷한 문제가 있음을 알게 되었다. 60) 세 번 째 유형은 충동성, 공격성, 정서불안정, 우울성향 등을 보이 는 성인들에 대한 보고이다. 61) 1972년 캐나다 McGill 대학의 Virginia Douglas 교수 는 이들 아동에서 과잉행동뿐 아니라 주의력저하 문제를 제 기하였으며, 그녀의 동료인 Gabrielle Weiss는 장기 추적 연구를 통해 과잉행동증상은 나이를 먹으면서 줄어들지만 주의력문제와 충동조절 문제는 지속되며 이 증상들이 중추 신경자극제에 특히 반응이 좋다고 주장하였다. 48) 앞서 말한 것처럼 이전에는 청소년기가 되면서 점차 증세가 사라지고 성 인기에는 확실히 사라진다고 믿었던 이론에 의심을 갖게 되었 고, 점차 성인 ADHD 연구가 시작되었다. 초창기 성인기 ADHD 추적 연구는 주로 몬트리올 팀 62) 와 뉴욕 연구진 63,64) 에 의해 이루어졌다. ADHD 증세의 지속 여부에 대한 결과, 몬트리올 연구에서는 과거 ADHD 아동의 반 정도가 25세 시점에서 아동기의 증세가 지속된다고 하였 다. 62) 뉴욕 연구진의 추적 연구에서도 아동기 ADHD 진단군 이 성인기에 ADHD로 진단되는 비율이 48%였다. 63) 즉, 아동 기의 ADHD 증상이 성인기가 되어도 반 정도에서는 남아 있 었으며, 뉴욕 연구진의 또 다른 장기 추적 연구에서는 아동기 에 ADHD로 진단된 경우 성인기에 약물남용, 반사회적 성격 장애로 진단되는 경우가 대조군에 비해 유의하게 많았다. 64) ADHD가 아동기에 발병한 후 거의 반수가 청소년기를 거 쳐 성인기까지 증세가 지속된다는 보고가 늘면서 성인 ADHD 의 진단기준과 치료에 대한 관심도 늘고 있다. 2002년 미국 FDA에서 아토목세틴(atomoxetine)을 소아청소년은 물론 성인 ADHD 치료제로 승인하면서 성인 ADHD에 대한 약 물치료 폭이 넓어졌고, 65) 2003년에는 성인 ADHD의 진단과 치료 기준 마련을 위해 18개 나라의 40여명의 전문가가 참 여한 European Network Adult ADHD가 만들어지기도 하였다. 66) 주의력결핍 과잉행동장애의 역사적 고찰 - 64 - 2013년경 발표될 것으로 예상되는 DSM-V에서는 이제까 지 성인 ADHD 연구와 진료과정에서 논란이 되어 온 ‘7세 이하 발병’이라는 진단 기준을 ’12세 이하 발병’으로 바꾸고, 성인의 경우 일부 아형 진단 시 ‘진단 기준 9개 항목 중 6개 이상 만족’을 ‘3개 이상’으로 낮추는 작업이 진행되고 있다. 50) 이와 같이 아동기에 발병하는 ADHD가 성인기로 이행되는 것을 반영하는 진단 기준의 변화가 예상된다. 16. 역사 속 유명인사 중에 ADHD가 있었을까? 역사 속의 유명인 들을 분석함으로써 과거 인물에게서 ADHD의 실존 가능성을 알아볼 수도 있다. 이는 ADHD 진단과 약물치료에 반대하는 집단은 물론 ADHD 치료를 옹 호하는 쪽에서도 내세운다. 67,68) 흔히 인용되는 대표 인물 중 건축가로는 시카고를 대표하는 Frank Lloyd Wright, 예술가 중에는 Salvador Dali, Pablo Picasso, Vincent Van Gogh, 문학작품을 남긴 작가로는 Charlotte Bronte 와 Emily Bronte, Samuel Clemens, Emily Dickenson, Scott Fitzgerald, Edgar Allan Poe, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Robert Frost, George Bernard Shaw, Hen- ry David Thoreau, Leo Tolstoy, Tennessee Williams, Virginia Woolf, William Butler Yeats, 천재 작곡가인 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, 위대한 사업가로는 Andrew Carnegie, Malcolm Forbes, Henry Ford, Bill Gates, David Neeleman, Paul Orfalea, Ted Turner, 탐험가 중 에는 Christopher Columbus, 발명가 중에는 Wright Bro- thers, Alexander Graham Bell, Thomas Edison, Benjamin Franklin, 등이 있으며, 위대한 학자인 Albert Einstein이 있다. 저명한 정치가로는 James Carville이나 John F. Kennedy를 든다. 미국의 유명한 사진작가인 Ansel Adams도 포함된다. 과거 인물은 아니지만 최근 활 동했거나 활동 중인 운동선수 중에는 Terry Bradshaw, Michael Phelps, Pete Rose, Nolan Ryan, Michael Jordan, Jason Kidd, 연예인 중에는 Ann Bancroft, Jim Carrey, Steve McQueen, Jack Nicholson, Elvis Presley, Sylvester Stallone, Robin Williams 등이 있다. 이러한 분류는 자서전과 역사적 자료를 바탕으로 개연성 을 추정하는 것이며, 학문적 근거를 바탕으로 하는 것은 아 니므로 보다 많은 체계적 평가와 분석이 필요할 것이다. 하 지만 이러한 움직임이 정신의학적 입장에서 역사 속의 유명 인물을 평가하려는 시도로 이어지기도 한다. 예를 들어 자서 전을 토대로 본 체 게바라(Che Guevara)의 어린 시절은 전 형적인 ADHD 기준에 부합하며, 그의 어머니 역시 성인 ADHD 에 해당한다. 69) 그의 성인기 기록 역시 성인 ADHD로서의 기 준에 합당하다. Fidel Castro와 같은 동료 혁명가들의 충고 에도 불구하고 아프리카와 남아메리카에서 벌인 게릴라 활 동 역시 부적절한 충동성향 때문이라는 분석이다. 17. ADHD 연구의 최신 경향 최근 ADHD의 ‘회복’에 관한 개념도 새로이 제시되고 있다. 단순히 약에 의한 증상의 소실을 치료의 목표로 보는 것이 아니라 그에 따르는 사회적, 총체적 기능의 개선이 이루어져 야 이를 관해라고 볼 수 있다는 것이다. 70) 즉, 주의력 결핍이 나 과다행동과 같은 단순한 증상으로서의 개념이 아니라, 전반적 뇌기능 장해와 그로 인한 다양한 기능의 소실로 규 정되는 개념으로 나아가고 있는 것이다. ADHD에 관한 기질적, 생물학적 연구도 진행되고 있다. ADHD 환자군의 가족력 증거에 대한 연구도 계속 늘고 있 으며, 71) 도파민 D4, D5 수용체 변이와 관련이 있다는 보고 가 있으며, 72) DBH, HTR1B, SNAP-25 등의 유전자 관련 연구도 진행되고 있다. 73) 최근 국내 연구진에 의한 연구도 활 발히 진행되고 있다. 74,75) 유전적 원인 뿐 아니라 환경 원인에 대한 연구도 보고되었는데, 소아기 시절의 납이나 PCBs의 중독과 관련이 있다는 보고 73) 이후, 출생 전 알코올 노출과 DAT1 유전자와의 연관성 77) 과 같은 환경 원인과 유전자와의 연관성에 대한 연구도 진행되고 있다. 최근 뇌영상 기술의 발달로 fMRI가 등장하면서 ADHD 환자군의 뇌 부분 활성도와 관련된 많은 연구가 진행되었다. 전전두엽, 선조체에서의 활성도 저하가 보고되었고 78,79) 선조 체에서 도파민이 피질선조체 시냅스의 시냅스 후 신경세포를 활성화시킨다는 보고도 있었다. 80) 보상관련 기전과 관련해서 는 배쪽 선조체의 활성도가 저하된다는 연구 결과가 있었다. 81) Shaw 등 82) 은 ADHD 아동과 정상아동과의 뇌 피질 성숙 도 변화를 비교한 결과를 발표하면서 질병의 중추신경계 병 리를 규명하는데 크게 일조하였다. 이와 같이 ADHD의 발병 기전과 질병 특성을 설명할 수 있는 생물학적 근거가 제시되 고 있다. 결 론 이처럼 ADHD는 오래 전부터 존재하였으나 20세기에 들 면서 임상적으로 관심을 갖게 되었고, 최근 백 여 년 동안 ‘뇌염 후 행동장애’, ‘뇌 손상 아동’, ‘MBD’, ‘아동기 과잉행동 반응’, ‘ADD’, 등 여러 가지 이름으로 불려왔다. 앞으로도 새 로운 뇌 병변 발견이나 새로운 기전의 발견 등으로 인해 진 단명이 바뀔 수도 있겠으나, 질병 개념에 차이는 변하지 않을 것이다. 향후 ADHD의 더 정확한 원인 및 치료방법에 대한 반건호·배재호·문수진·민정원 - 65 - 연구가 필요하다. 중심 단어：주의력결핍 과잉행동장애 ·역사 ·고 찰 ·메틸페니 데이트. 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work_f345fcdmj5d25cc3jyx75i5a3a	----	tmp608D.tmp.pdf Development of Gilbert-type deltas: sedimentological case studies from the Plio-Pleistocene of Corinth Rift, Greece Katarina Gobo Dissertation for the degree of Philosophiae Doctor (Ph.D.) Faculty of Mathematics and Natural Sciences UNIVERSITY OF BERGEN 2014 Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail. – Ralph Waldo Emerson i CONTENTS Preface .................................................................................................................................................................................. iii Acknowledgements ........................................................................................................................................................... v Abstract: what’s this thesis about ............................................................................................................................ vii Authorship statement ..................................................................................................................................................... ix Introduction ......................................................................................................................................................................... 1 Sedimentology of Gilbert-type deltas ................................................................................................................... 1 Gilbert-type deltas recording relative base-level changes ........................................................................... 6 Gilbert-type deltas in the Gulf of Corinth ............................................................................................................ 7 The present-study objectives ................................................................................................................................... 8 Summary of papers ........................................................................................................................................................... 9 Paper 1 ............................................................................................................................................................................... 9 Paper 2 ............................................................................................................................................................................ 10 Paper 3 ............................................................................................................................................................................ 11 Conclusions and perspective ...................................................................................................................................... 12 References .......................................................................................................................................................................... 13 Papers: 1. Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M., Nemec, W. and Sjursen, E. Development of an incised valley-fill at an evolving rift margin: Pleistocene eustasy and tectonics on the southern side of the Gulf of Corinth, Greece. Sedimentology, doi: 10.1111/sed.12089, in press, 2014. 2. Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M. and Nemec, W. Gilbert-type deltas recording short-term relative base-level changes: delta- brink morphodynamics and related foreset facies. Sedimentology (MS in review). 3. Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M. and Nemec, W. Reciprocal changes in foreset to bottomset facies in a Gilbert-type delta: response to short-term changes in base level. Journal of Sedimentary Research (MS in review). ii iii Pref ace This thesis has been submitted for the degree of Philosophiae Doctor (Ph.D.) at the Department of Earth Science, University of Bergen. The research presented herein was carried out at the University of Bergen, under the principal supervision of Prof. Wojciech Nemec, co-supervision of Prof. Robert Gawthorpe and external co-supervision of Dr. Massimiliano Ghinassi (Univeristy of Padova). The project was funded through a Bergen University 4-year scholarship that commenced in January 2010. Additional financial support was kindly provided by the University of Bergen, University of Padova, the International Association of Sedimentologists (IAS) and Statoil (through the Akademia agreement on mobility funds) for covering fieldwork expenses, laboratory analyses and participation in conferences abroad. The thesis is structured according to the Norwegian guidelines for doctoral dissertations in natural sciences, where the main part of the thesis consists of research papers either published, submitted or about to be submitted to international peer-reviewed journals. The present thesis comprises three papers: Paper 1 has already been published in the journal Sedimentology; Paper 2 is in review in the same journal; and Paper 3 has been submitted to the Journal of Sedimentary Research. Their text format and written English (UK vs. USA) are thus inconsistent, as is also the format of their lists of references. The three research papers are preceded by a general introduction that gives the project background and aims, synthesizes its outcome, and outlines prospects for future progress in the explored research field. An authorship statement provides an overview of the contribution of each author to this collaborative research work. Katarina Gobo Bergen, 27 March 2014 iv v Acknowledgements First of all, I would like to express my immense gratitude to Prof. Wojciech Nemec and Dr. Massimiliano (Gino) Ghinassi for their designing of the project, their dedication and invaluable help in fieldwork, and their enthusiasm and encouraging attitude offered throughout these 4 years. It was a privilege to work with you and learn from you! Thank you for all your scientific input, invaluable advice and for being so patient with my work progress. A special dziękuję to Wojtek for all the time and effort he has spent on editing my consecutive manuscripts, and a special grazie to Gino for all his moral (and often also physical on outcrop cliffs!) support and for his ability to find the right consoling words in all circumstances. Prof. Rob Gawthorpe is kindly thanked for the useful discussions and practical advice, and for his comments on my research ideas and one of the paper drafts. Rob’s knowledge of the study area was very helpful, as was also his ability to view my local case studies from a wider regional perspective. My special thanks go to the Department of Earth Science, University of Bergen, for funding my research and for providing me with a pleasant, friendly and comfortable work environment. I am grateful to Prof. William Helland-Hansen and Dr. Gunnar Sælen for giving me the opportunity to combine duty and pleasure through our teaching collaboration in the course Introduction to Sedimentology and the four memorable related fieldtrips to Spain that will certainly stay among the most enjoyable events for me in these past few years. I thank also Valeria Bianchi for her good-humoured support during my PhD study period and her comments on an early draft of one of my papers, and most particularly for her generous hospitality during my research stay in Padova, Italy. As a newcomer to Bergen, I was lucky to become immediately a member of a cheerful and friendly group of fellow PhD students and postdocs. In the meantime some of them moved away, some of them stayed and some new people arrived; I wish to thank them all for their support, especially in these last hectic months, and for all the interesting and hilarious discussions at lunch time and on other social occasions. An attempt of naming them all individually would just increase the chance of involuntary omissions; therefore I thank simply the lunch group, the board-game group, the Earthcake club, the Geo-sport enthusiasts, my former and current flatmate(s) and also all the ‘non-grouped’ nice people that I have met in Bergen over these few years. With you around, my friends, Bergen doesn’t seem to be that much rainy after all! Finally, I wish to thank my family and friends in Croatia for their long-distance encouragement, for always having their time for me during my short visits in my native country, and for their constant concern as to whether I am not freezing at these high latitudes. No worries, folks, I have acclimatized! ― Katarina Gobo vi vii Abstract: what’s this thesis about Gilbert-type deltas form where a river system debouches into a relatively deep marine or lacustrine basin, whereby the subaqueous delta slope is steep and fully dominated by sediment gravity-transport processes. These deltas occur in various tectono-geomorphic settings and have attracted considerable research interest in the last three decades or so, although mainly from the viewpoint of their large-scale architecture, spatial- stratigraphic stacking pattern and relationship to basin-margin faults. Side-scan sonar studies of a number of such modern deltas provided highly instructive ‘snapshots’, but lacked the stratigraphic perspective of a deltaic system evolution with time. More recent detailed sedimentological studies of several ancient Gilbert-type deltas have meanwhile indicated that these sedimentary systems are some of the most valuable archives for the stratigraphic record of various allogenic and autogenic factors, most notably the record of relative base-level changes. The present series of case studies from the Plio–Pleistocene deltas in the Corinth Rift, Greece, elucidates further this conceptual notion by focusing on such key issues as: the ‘birth’ and subsequent evolution of Gilbert-type delta as a valley-fill bayhead system (Paper 1); the relationship between the delta-brink morphodynamics controlled by base-level behaviour and the mode of the subaqueous delta-slope processes of sediment dispersal (Paper 2); and the impact of these brink-to-slope temporal changes on the sedimentation pattern in the delta-foot zone (Paper 3). The application of detailed facies analysis has proven to be of crucial importance in unravelling the system formative conditions. The case studies highlight the significant role of the rift-margin tectonics, while revealing further the spatio-temporal patterns of the deltaic system’s own responses to tectonically-induced perturbations. This series of case studies from the Corinth Rift contributes to a better understanding of the morphodynamics of evolving Gilbert-type deltaic systems and their pattern of responses to both long- and short-term changes in base level. The studies contribute also to a better understanding of the Plio–Pleistocene tectonic development history of this youngest European rift basin. viii ix Authorship statement This dissertation consists of three research papers, with the Ph.D. candidate Katarina Gobo as the first author of all of them and the sole author of the thesis Introduction chapter. The papers are a result of collaborative fieldwork and the relative contribution of their authors is specified below. Paper 1: Development of an incised valley-fill at an evolving rift margin: Pleistocene eustasy and tectonics on the southern side of the Gulf of Corinth, Greece by K. Gobo, M. Ghinassi, W. Nemec, W. and E. Sjursen All four authors were actively involved in the collection of field data and their preliminary interpretation. KG subsequently analysed the data in detail, developed a palaeogeographic and chronostratigraphic scenario for the valley-fill depositional system, wrote the manuscript and drafted most of the figures. MG drafted Fig. 9, designed Fig. 8A and contributed to the paper’s Introduction. ES drafted Fig. 10 and participated in the joint discussions of results. WN designed the general concept of the paper, inspired discussions, offered practical advice and edited the final manuscript. Paper 2: Gilbert-type deltas recording short-term relative base-level changes: delta-brink morphodynamics and related foreset facies by K. Gobo, M. Ghinassi and W. Nemec All three authors were actively involved in the collection of field data and their preliminary discussion and interpretation. KG subsequently analysed and interpreted the data in more detail, wrote the manuscript and drafted all the figures. MG contributed to the design of figures 1 and 8. WN designed the general concept of the paper, instigated crucial discussions, offered practical advice and edited the final manuscript. Paper 3: Reciprocal changes in foreset to bottomset facies in a Gilbert-type delta: response to short-term changes in base level by K. Gobo, M. Ghinassi and W. Nemec All three authors were actively involved in the collection of field data and their preliminary discussion and interpretation. KG subsequently analysed and interpreted the data in more detail, wrote the manuscript and drafted all the figures. MG and WN offered stimulating discussions and practical advice. MG gave helpful comments on the manuscript, and WN edited its final version. Development of Gilbert-type deltas 1 Introduction Sedimentology of Gilbert-type deltas Gilbert-type deltas – first described by Gilbert (1885) and afterwards named after him – are a variety of deltaic systems that form where river debouches into a body of standing water that is considerably deeper than the fluvial feeder channel. These deltas comprise a steeply inclined foreset of subaqueous delta-slope deposits passing down-dip into subhorizontal bottomset of prodelta deposits and overlain by a subhorizontal topset of fluvial delta-plain deposits (Fig. 1). These characteristic units were defined by Barrell (1912), with the term toeset commonly used to describe the tangential transition from foreset to bottomset (e.g., Massari 1996; Sohn et al. 1997; Breda et al. 2007). The delta thickness and bulk volume are determined by the host-water depth and river sediment supply, respectively. Fig. 1. (A) Section through a Gilbert-type delta. (B) Vertical facies sequence produced by delta progradation (after Gilbert 1885; Barrell 1912). Note that delta architecture is portrayed rather simplistically. K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 2 The mode of sediment transfer from the subaerial delta plain to the subaqueous delta slope depends on the type and amount of sediment delivered by the fluvial system and the density contrast between the sediment-laden river outflow and the basin water (Bates 1953). Hypopycnal outflow results in a buoyant plume of fine-grained sediment suspension (Fig. 2) that spreads away from the delta and gradually settles in its distal realm (Nemec 1995). Homopycnal outflow involves rapid mixing of river and basin water, which causes sediment deposition close to the river mouth (Colella et al. 1987). Hyperpycnal outflows plunge down on the steep delta slope, depositing there their sediment load (Fig. 2A). The latter two types of river outflow conditions thus favour delta build-out, with most of the sediment deposited beneath the wave base and transported by gravitational processes. Fig. 2. (A) Schematic diagram showing deltaic buoyant hypopycnal plume and hyperpycnal underflow. (B) The density layering of water column associated with a hypopycnal plume. (From Nemec 1995). Gilbert-type deltas were initially considered to be exclusively lacustrine features, but field studies since the 1980s have documented their common occurrence in marine settings (e.g., Postma 1984; Postma & Roep 1985; Massari & Parea 1990; Dorsey et al. 1995; Massari 1996; Sohn et al. 1997; Mortimer et al. 2005; Longhitano 2008), particularly as bayhead systems in fjords (Prior et al. 1981; Kostaschuk & McCann 1987; Prior & Bornhold 1988, 1990) and estuarine incised valleys (e.g., Postma 1984; Li et al. 2006; Breda et al. 2007, 2009; Paper 1). They form not only in tectonically active areas (Massari & Colella 1988; Gawthorpe & Colella 1990; Ford et al. 2007; Backert et al. 2010; Development of Gilbert-type deltas 3 Paper 1), but also in proglacial settings (Nemec et al. 1999; Lønne et al. 2001; Lønne & Nemec 2004) and in natural and artificial lakes (Grover & Howard 1937; Fan & Morris 1992; Morris & Fan 1997), and have even been reported from extra-terrestrial settings (Ori et al. 2000; Mangold & Ansan 2006). The growth, geometry and stacking pattern of Gilbert-type deltas were studied by means of laboratory experiments (e.g., Jopling 1963; Kostic & Parker 2003b; Kleinhans 2005; Lai & Capart 2007; Rohais et al. 2011; Bijkerk et al. 2013) and numerical modelling (e.g., Muto & Steel 1992; Syvitski & Daughney 1992; Hardy et al. 1994; Hardy & Gawthorpe 1998; Uličný et al. 2002; Kostic & Parker 2003a). This considerable research interest in Gilbert-type deltas stems partly from their economic significance as stratigraphic traps for hydrocarbons (Graue et al., 1987; Muto & Steel, 1997) and sites of mineral placers, but mainly from their sensitivity to relative base-level changes, making them play an important role in basin analysis (Gawthorpe & Colella 1990). Fig. 3. Depositional processes on the steep slope of Gilbert-type deltas and the resulting foreset facies (from review by Nemec 1990). K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 4 Fig. 4. Schematic review of various architectural elements recognized in Gilbert-type deltas. No scale is given, as the delta thickness depends on the host-basin depth and may range from a few metres to a few hundred metres. These steep-faced deltas were initially portrayed rather simplistically (Fig. 1), both in terms of depositional architecture and subaqueous depositional processes. The latter were traditionally lumped under the label of ‘slope avalanches’, but studies of modern and ancient deltas over the last three decades have revealed a whole range of delta-slope depositional processes (Fig. 3), including debrisflows, debrisfalls and both sustained (hyperpycnal) and surge-type turbidity currents of high to low density (sensu Lowe 1982). A considerable variation in Gilbert-type delta architecture has also been recognized (Fig. 4): The delta brink during delta progradation may have a horizontal, falling or rising trajectory (sensu Helland-Hansen & Martinsen 1996), which is considered to be an important high-resolution record of relative base-level changes during the delta life-span; The topset–foreset contact may be either transitional (sigmoidal) or erosional (oblique), which is attributed to accommodation space formation or subtraction, respectively (Massari 1996); The topset-foreset contact may display scoop-shaped ‘destructional’ scours and/or ‘constructional’ mounds (Fig.5) (Postma & Cruickshank 1988; Nemec et al. 1999; Lønne & Nemec 2004); The foreset unit may contain slope-draping mud layers, followed by an onlapping or downlapping foreset reactivation (Nemec et al. 1999; Lønne & Nemec 2004), commonly at a reduced angle (Kostic et al. 2002); Delta slopes show the occurrence of ridges and chutes, which are respectively attributed to subaqueous high-viscosity mass-movement processes and turbidity currents (Prior et al. 1981; Kostaschuk & McCann 1987; Postma 1984); The delta-slope and delta-toe bedding may include ‘backsets’ of upslope-dipping cross-strata filling a chute and/or abutting against a downslope obstacle; their origin is attributed to turbidity currents that underwent hydraulic jump (Fig. 6) (Postma 1984; Nemec 1990; Massari 1996; Nemec et al. 2007); The foreset-bottomset transition may be smoothly tangential (Gilbert 1885; Nemec et al. 1999) or sharply angular (Colella 1988b; Zelilidis & Kontopoulos 1996); and may be characterized by offset-stacked depositional lobes or hummock-shaped Development of Gilbert-type deltas 5 ‘splays’ (Postma & Roep 1985; Postma & Cruickshank 1988; Prior & Bornhold 1988; Nemec et al. 1999; Lønne & Nemec 2004); The delta toe may show scoop-shaped scour-and-fill features referred to as ‘spoon-shaped depressions’ (Massari & Parea 1990; Breda et al. 2007), ‘arcuate scarps’ (Prior & Bornhold 1988) or ‘large flutes’ (Bornhold & Prior 1990), and attributed to turbidity currents that underwent hydraulic jump at the break in slope (Fig. 7). Fig. 5. (A) Panoramic view and (B) overlay sketch of a sigmoidal brink-zone geometry in transverse section; note the erosional scours in the lower part and the overlying mounds stacked in a compensational manner, attributed to mouth-bar progradation (see Paper 2). Fig. 6. Large backset (set of upslope-dipping cross-strata) within the foreset of Gilbert-type Espirito Santo delta (Postma & Roep 1985); photograph courtesy of G. Postma. K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 6 Fig. 7. Spoon-shaped multiple scour-and-fill features at the toe of Gilbert-type delta in (A) Bradano and (B) Ventimiglia, Italy (Breda et al. 2007), with yellow arrows indicating the flow direction; photographs courtesy of F. Massari. (C, D) Snapshot images of a numerical CFD simulation showing the formation of spoon-shaped scour at the toe of slope chute channel; the flow in D was made invisible in order to see its scouring effect, with the scour being subsequently filled in and smoothed out during the waning phase of the flow; images courtesy of W. Nemec. Gilbert-type deltas recording relative base-level changes Gilbert-type deltas are sensitive coastal recorders of relative base-level changes. In zones of active tectonics in particular, the combined effect of eustasy and tectonic uplift/subsidence gives rise to diverse delta architecture. Large changes in relative base level may lead to axial dissection of delta by an incised valley and its subsequent drowning with the progradation of a younger bayhead delta (Ford et al. 2007; Backert et al. 2010; Paper 1), or result in vertical stacking of successive deltas (Colella 1988a, 1988b; Breda et al. 2007, 2009). Low-magnitude short-term changes are recorded in the delta brink-zone, with the relative base-level rise reflected in a sigmoidal geometry and the relative base-level fall or stillstand in an oblique geometry (Fig. 4). As the brink zone tends to be eroded by fluvial system and waves, the foreset and toeset/bottomset deposits are the most valuable archives of allogenic and autogenic changes affecting the delta front and its fluvial feeder system. However, the detailed facies anatomy of these subaqueous deposits has been little studied. A systematic, bed-by-bed study has thus far been used in the facies analysis of colluvial-cone deltas (Blikra & Nemec 1998) and Development of Gilbert-type deltas 7 fjord-hosted proglacial Gilbert-type deltas (Nemec et al. 1999; Lønne et al. 2001; Lønne & Nemec 2004). Yet no attempt has, until now, been made to study the relationship between the observed brink geometries and coeval subaqueous depositional processes. The relative frequency, spatio-temporal association and time-sequence of changes of these processes may vary from one delta to another and also within a single delta, thus potentially reflecting the variable impact of particular controlling factors. Therefore, the present study attempted to shed more light on this particular issue through detailed facies analysis of some well-exposed deltas. The Gilbert-type deltas uplifted on the southern side of the Corinth Rift have a well-studied structural, stratigraphic and palaeogeographic framework, which allows various aspects of delta development to be assessed. Gilbert-type deltas in the Gulf of Corinth The Gulf of Corinth in central Greece is the submerged part of a rapidly extending rift that was initiated in Pliocene times (Ori 1989; Briole et al. 2000; Leeder et al. 2008). This area has been extensively studied, with a main focus on its tectono-sedimentary evolution and spatial-stratigraphic stacking pattern of the large Gilbert-type deltas uplifted along the gulf’s southern coast (Ori 1989; Seger & Alexander 1993; Dart et al. 1994; Collier & Gawthorpe 1995; Ford et al. 2007; Rohais et al. 2007a, 2007b, 2008; Backert et al. 2010; Ford et al. 2013). Fig. 8. Map of the southern coast of the Gulf of Corinth showing the main onshore faults and the distribution of the pre-rift and syn-rift units; modified from Ford et al. (2007) and Backert (2009). The large Gilbert-type deltas are labelled and the ones analysed in this study are marked with an asterisk; note delta distribution in the fault blocks and their progressive northward migration over time. The inset frame shows the location of the Gulf of Corinth in the Aegean region. K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 8 These footwall-derived gravelly deltas developed concurrently with the evolution and northward migration of the rift-margin system of normal faults (Fig. 8), with some of the younger deltas inset in older ones as the infill of axially incised valleys (McMurray & Gawthorpe 2000; Ford et al. 2007; Paper 1). The deltas were referred to as fan deltas, which means formed by alluvial fans, although no evidence has been given in support of this notion. It is more likely that these deltas were fed by antecedent and juvenile fluvial systems, similarly to their modern counterparts built along the gulf’s southern coast (Seger & Alexander 1993; Ford et al. 2013). The deltas reach several hundred metres in thickness in their spectacular, seismic-scale 3D outcrops (Fig. 9). Depositional architecture and sequence stratigraphy of four deltas have been studied (Dart et al. 1994; Ford et al. 2007; Rohais et al. 2008; Backert et al. 2010), but without a high-resolution analysis of depositional processes. Consequently, no link between the observed changes in delta architecture and coeval changes in delta-slope processes has been established, leaving a wide range of unexplored aspects of deltaic system development (here addressed by Papers 1–3). Fig. 9. The Gilbert-type Evrostini delta in the Corinth Rift. The delta foreset is ~400 m thick and its dip direction is to the north. The present-study objectives This study focused on the detailed facies anatomy and depositional architecture of a number of Corinth deltas to recognize which subaqueous processes were involved in their development at different stages of delta progradation. More specifically, the project objectives were to: Provide a high-resolution sedimentological and sequence-stratigraphic analysis of a previously unstudied, relatively young valley-fill deltaic system (Paper 1). Link the morphodynamic changes in delta-brink architecture with coeval changes in the delta foreset facies (Paper 2). Link changes in foreset facies with the changes in depositional architecture and facies in the corresponding toeset/bottomset deposits (Paper 3). Development of Gilbert-type deltas 9 Assess the deltaic system’s formative conditions and link the morphodynamic and architectural changes to allogenic or autogenic factors (Papers 1–3). Another initial objective was to assess the geological rate of the morphodynamic and facies changes by means of microfossil dating. However, this could not be achieved because of two limiting factors: (i) the delta deposits are mostly coarse-grained and unsuitable for the preservation of microfossils; and (ii) the sampled fine-grained interbeds were barren or yielded non-satisfactory results for high-resolution biostratigraphy. The research outcome of this study ― presented in papers 1–3 ― is summarized in the following chapter. Summary of papers Paper 1 Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M., Nemec, W. and Sjursen, E. Development of an incised valley-fill at an evolving rift margin: Pleistocene eustasy and tectonics on the southern side of the Gulf of Corinth, Greece. Sedimentology, doi: 10.1111/sed.12089, in press, 2014. This paper presents a detailed sequence-stratigraphic and facies analysis of an incised valley-fill fluvio-deltaic succession whose development was controlled by the interplay of syn-depositional rift-margin tectonics and eustatic changes. The study combines facies analysis from outcrop data with previously published and re-evaluated U/Th dates of coral-bearing deposits to identify the relative role of tectonic subsidence/uplift, eustasy and regional climatic changes in the development of the valley-fill system. The palaeovalley was incised in older rift-margin deltaic deposits due to tectonic uplift accompanied by glacio-eustatic sea-level falls and was subsequently filled in 100 ka with gravelly fluvio-deltaic deposits. Syn-depositional flexure of a valley-parallel relay ramp contributed to valley segmentation and strongly influenced the stratigraphic architecture and facies distribution of the valley-fill. The valley segment upstream from the ramp crest accumulated monotonous gravelly alluvium, whereas fluvio-deltaic deposits filled the downstream valley segment. Three consecutive bayhead deltaic systems – separated by transgressive lags – developed on top of one another, indicating that the ramp crest delimited the landward extent of marine invasions and pinned down the nucleation point of the bayhead systems. The ultimate growth of a thick Gilbert-type delta resulted from the inherited bathymetry produced by the slope of the two preceding shoal-water deltas. It is inferred that the coral-bearing deposits found directly K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 10 outside the palaeovalley outlet mark the early flooding of the valley, whereas the Gilbert-type delta topset represents the ultimate stage of valley drowning. This incised valley-fill succession differs from the existing facies models for such depositional systems because it comprises gravelly shoal-water and Gilbert-type deltaic deposits, shows strong wave influence and lacks evidence of tidal activity. The four end-member models for incised valley-fill suggested in literature are discussed in terms of the rates of sediment supply and accommodation development. It is pointed out that the departures of particular field cases from these conceptual models may reveal important information on the system’s own specific formative conditions. The valley-fill case described in the paper represents conditions of high sediment supply and a rapid, but stepwise, development of accommodation controlled by the spatio-temporal evolution of normal faults at the rift margin, which overprinted the eustatic signal. Overall, the study adds to a better understanding of the Pleistocene tectonics and palaeogeography of the Corinth Rift margin, and to the spectrum of conceptual models for incised valley-fill architecture. Paper 2 Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M. and Nemec, W. Gilbert-type deltas recording short-term relative base-level changes: delta-brink morphodynamics and related foreset facies. Sedimentology (MS in review) This paper focuses on detailed facies anatomy of the foreset deposits of Gilbert-type deltas to evaluate whether the morphodynamics of delta-brink zone bear on the delta-slope depositional processes. Detailed sedimentological logging was carried out in three Corinthian deltas of different age, size and development stage. In all these systems, the delta-slope facies abound in deposits of turbidity currents (whether slope collapse-generated brief surges or longer-duration, sustained hyperpycnal flows) and cohesionless debrisflows. Subordinate facies include debrisfall gravel, backset beds and minor tidal deposits. The facies are commonly organized in two distinct assemblages – one dominated by debrisflows (DFA) and the other by turbidites (TFA) – and their occurrence seems to be directly related to the type of brink-zone geometry. DFA assemblages tend to be associated with a sigmoidal brink geometry and are considered to form during relative base-level rise, when the aggrading delta front undergoes frequent collapses due to excessive sediment storage and over-steepening. TFA assemblages are linked to oblique brink geometry and are attributed to intense sediment bypass during a relative base-level fall or stillstand. Such generic link between the delta-front morphodynamic responses to relative base-level changes and the delta-slope sedimentation processes occurs at an advanced stage of delta development. An early-stage bayhead delta appears to be dominated by hyperpycnal flows irrespectively of the short-term low-magnitude relative base-level changes. The study suggests that the foreset deposits alone may possibly be used to decipher the record of relative base-level changes when the topset-foreset contact is poorly Development of Gilbert-type deltas 11 exposed or when the sigmoidal evidence of relative base-level rise was obliterated by fluvial erosion. Paper 3 Gobo, K., Ghinassi, M. and Nemec, W. Reciprocal changes in foreset to bottomset facies in a Gilbert-type delta: response to short-term changes in base level Journal of Sedimentary Research (MS in review) The topic of this paper is a direct sequel of Paper 2, with the main focus on depositional processes at the foreset–bottomset transition and their relation to changes in the delta slope regime and brink-zone morphodynamics. This study of the Gilbert-type Ilias delta at the Corinth Rift margin combines observations from two outcrop sections, where the topset–foreset contact and foreset–bottomset transition are conveniently exposed. Outcrop photomosaics and marker bedding surfaces were used to correlate packages of foreset deposits with coeval toeset and bottomset deposits. Both foreset and toeset-bottomset deposits tend to be organized into debrisflow-dominated (DFA) and turbidite-dominated assemblages (TFA), but show a reverse pattern of reciprocal changes. The DFA assemblages of delta foreset deposits tend to pass downdip into TFA assemblages of delta-foot deposits, whereas foreset TFA assemblages pass downdip into delta-foot DFA assemblages. The bottomset deposits show marked textural bimodality, with alternating fine-grained turbiditic sandstones and mainly clast-supported debrisflow conglomerates. The latter facies dominates in the bottomset DFA assemblages, while also filling chutes extending from the delta slope to its foot zone. The downdip changes from DFA to TFA assemblage are linked to delta- brink sigmoidal architecture, whereas the downdip changes from DFA to TFA are linked to the delta-brink oblique architecture. It is suggested that the excess brink-zone aggradation during base-level rise spawns frequent small debrisflows that ‘freeze’ mainly on the delta slope (foreset DFA), while predominantly turbidity currents are reaching the delta-foot zone (toeset–bottomset TFA). The relative fall or stillstand of base level intensifies deposition from hyperpycnal flows on the delta slope (foreset TFA), while slope chutes formed by large river floods allow the subsequent transfer to brink- and chute wall-derived debrisflows to the delta-foot zone (toeset–bottomset DFA). The observations indicate that the delta-brink morphodynamic response to short-term changes in relative base level has a major impact on the subaqueous pattern of delta sedimentation processes. The deltaic system’s autogenic variability and regional climatic fluctuations inevitably add ‘noise’ to the facies record of these changes. The study suggests that the reciprocal alternation of TFA and DFA assemblages in delta foreset and toeset–bottomset deposits may potentially be used to decipher the hidden record of short-term relative base-level changes that occurred over the life-span of an ancient delta. K. Gobo, Ph.D. thesis 12 Conclusions and perspective The research presented in this thesis provides important new insights in the morphodynamic development of Gilbert-type deltas, from the system’s bayhead nucleation stage in a tectonically-controlled incised valley (Paper 1) to the pattern of its subaqueous depositional processes and facies partitioning during subsequent progradation influenced by relative base-level changes (Papers 2 & 3). The main novelty is the recognition of a generic link between the morphodynamics of the delta- brink zone ― controlled by the base-level behaviour and reflected in delta-front architecture ― and the coeval changes in sedimentary facies of the delta slope, toe and prodelta zone (Fig. 10). The primary signal of system changes deciphered in these Plio– Pleistocene Corinthian deltas is due to the changes in base level, with an inevitable superimposed ‘noise’ from the secondary signal of delta autogenic variation and probably the allogenic signal of climate seasonality and regional climatic fluctuations. Fig. 10. Schematic cartoon showing the generic link between the morphodynamic responses of delta-brink zone to short-term relative base-level changes and the coeval depositional processes on the delta slope and in its foot zone. See Papers 2 & 3 for further explanation. Development of Gilbert-type deltas 13 The delta-brink architecture reflects relative base-level changes, but tends to be erased by subsequent incision of the delta-plain fluvial system or is often non-preserved in outcrop sections. The present study points to an attractive possibility for the recognition of such a ‘hidden’ record of relative base-level changes on the basis of the delta foreset and/or toeset–bottomset facies. The interpretive model suggested by this study thus bears important implications for basin analysis and may serve as a powerful tool for the spatial facies prediction and assessment of heterogeneities in a Gilbert-type deltaic hydrocarbon reservoir (such as the mid-Jurassic Oseberg Fm. in the northern North Sea; Graue et al., 1987). However, the postulated facies model is tentative and needs to be verified on a wider data basis. Although the evidence of a generic link between the delta-brink architecture (oblique vs. sigmoidal) and coeval foreset facies (TFA vs. DFA assemblages) in the present study is dawn from both valley-confined and open-coast deltaic systems, the number of the cases analysed is very small (Paper 2). Likewise, the evidence of reciprocal facies changes in the foreset and toeset-bottomset TFA and DFA assemblages comes from a single case study (Paper 3). The research project’s results are interesting and highly promising, but obviously require verification and thus invite a new wave of worldwide detailed sedimentological studies of Gilbert-type deltas. The future high-resolution sedimentological studies should also focus on the distinction of the primary signal of base-level changes from the secondary signal of the delta’s own autogenic variability and the allogenic signal of possible climatic fluctuations. 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work_f4ay5bu3f5c57o6gcfh7lankue	----	games:science:science_magazine_1920-1939:root:data:science_1920-1939:pdf:1932_v076_n1983:p1983_0613.pdf [Ganino] GANINO User Tools Register Log In Site Tools Search Tools Show pagesource Old revisions Backlinks Recent Changes Media Manager Sitemap Register Log In > Recent Changes Media Manager Sitemap Trace: games:science:science_magazine_1920-1939:root:data:science_1920-1939:pdf:1932_v076_n1983:p1983_0613.pdf This topic does not exist yet You've followed a link to a topic that doesn't exist yet. If permissions allow, you may create it by clicking on Create this page. Page Tools Show pagesource Old revisions Backlinks Back to top 
work_f4s2o6gukjhtrix7etxlzmu5l4	----	Untitled-1 A RELAÇÃO HOMEM-NATUREZA EM JOSÉ MARTÍ1 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho* ABSTRACT The article offers a reflection on some basic concepts of the world’s vision of the intellectual and hero of the Cuban independence, José Julián Martí y Pérez (1853-1895). It intends to investigate the harmonic and analogical character of the relationship between his ideas on the man, the culture and nature. INTRODUÇÃO Vários estudiosos da extensa obra do escritor, intelectual e líder da independência cubana, José Julián Martí y Pérez (1853-1895), ressaltam a iteração ou constância como o elemento básico, característico e peculiar de sua escrita. Chama a atenção do leitor no conjunto de sua obra a forma com que sobressai um determinado número de conceitos bastante recorrentes. Verifica-se um certo nível de invariabilidade no uso de alguns termos, quase que independentemente do tipo e da forma do texto, do tema tratado, bem como do contexto e da época de produção. Por essa razão, consideramos que o estudo do uso _______________ *REZENDE, EUGÊNIO DE CARVALHO. Professor de História da América do Depar- tamento de História da Universidade Federal de Goiás – UFG. 26 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho martiano de alguns conceitos, por ele preferidos, pode abrir caminhos privilegiados para uma compreensão mais eficaz da visão de mundo deste que foi um dos intelectuais mais influentes no pensamento latino- americano do século XIX. Uma vez focalizadas as Obras Completas de José Martí e selecionados aqueles fragmentos discursivos que fazem referência à sua visão de mundo, emergem de forma reiterada as seguintes palavras- conceitos: unidade (referida ao universo como um todo), analogia, identidade, harmonia, homem e natureza. Para nossa análise consideramos e nos apoiamos em algumas hipóteses: 1) as idéias ou conceitos de homem e natureza são os referentes fundamentais de sua visão de mundo; 2) sua cosmovisão está apoiada em um princípio filosófico que considera a unicidade, identidade e analogia entre os diversos fenômenos e elementos constitutivos do universo; 3) como decorrência do princípio anterior, todos esses elementos do universo, constituindo uma mesma unidade, mantêm entre si uma relação de harmonia e equilíbrio. O PRINCÍPIO DA UNIDADE DO UNIVERSO “Universo es palabra admirable, suma de toda filosofía: lo uno en lo diverso, lo diverso en lo uno”. José Martí (1884) Começamos por apresentar a própria definição de universo que José Martí explicita em reiterados momentos e contextos de sua obra. Em um de seus apontamentos de juventude, da época do primeiro exílio na Espanha, refere-se pela primeira vez a uma idéia genérica de universo como “reunión de todas las cosas”. (21:56) Entretanto, tal definição aparece primeiramente num contexto das reflexões e apontamentos filosóficos do jovem estudante cubano sobre a existência da ciência ou filosofia transcendental, num contexto de suas reflexões metafísicas sobre a unidade material e espiritual do universo. Tende aí a considerar o Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 27 universo como a grande síntese, origem e fim de todas as coisas. Assim, em vários momentos, insiste na tese de um duplo movimento de descenso e ascenso. O primeiro parte da unidade em direção ao múltiplo; o segundo, de retorno, parte inversamente do diverso em direção à síntese integradora originária. Em alguns desses apontamentos de juventude, escreve: Todo, ascendiendo, se generaliza. - Todo, descendiendo, se hace múltiple. Reducir, concretar, es ascender. (19:441)2 Lo común es la síntesis de lo vario, y a lo uno han de ir las síntesis de todo lo común; todo se simplifica al ascender. (21:47) Todo va a la unidad, todo a la síntesis, las esencias van a un ser; los existentes a lo existente: un padre es padre de muchos hijos: un tronco es asiento de infinitas ramas: un sol se vierte en innúmeros rayos: de lo uno sale en todo lo múltiple, y lo múltiple se refunde y se simplifica en todo en lo uno. (21:52) Poderíamos, aqui, listar inúmeras outras passagens, em variados contextos e épocas, em que essa noção de movimento ascensional em direção ao sintético reaparece em seus escritos. No momento, insistiremos apenas nos desdobramentos que propicia essa visão dinâmica do mundo. Em outros apontamentos e artigos jornalísticos do início dos anos 80, encontraremos reiteradamente a definição martiana de universo. Assim, em um escrito de 1882, encontramos: “Para mí, la palabra Universo explica el Universo: Versus uni: lo vario en lo uno”. (21:255) Em outro artigo para El Partido Liberal, do México, em 1887, escrevia: “El Universo es lo universo. Y lo universo, lo uni-vario, es lo vario en lo uno”. (11:164) Certa vez, inclusive, manifestou expressamente, em um de seus cadernos de apontamentos, o desejo de escrever um livro, muito embora admitisse que não disporia de tempo para fazê-lo, que teria como tema central “El Universo, en lo vario y en lo uno...” (18:291) Entretanto, Martí deixa claro em um apontamento filosófico, provavelmente da época de estudante na Espanha, que sua interpretação abrangente do universo, visto como fonte de todo conhecimento, se diferencia da proposta do filósofo idealista alemão Schelling, que busca a 28 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho verdade fundamental a partir de uma hipotética identidade universal. Para o então jovem estudante cubano, se do uno deriva o múltiplo, como quer Schelling, isso não significa que cada uma das manifestações desse múltiplo represente em si todo o uno. A crítica se dirige exatamente contra essa fusão entre a parte e o todo, que, sendo idênticos, constituiriam a grande identidade universal, base filosófica do panteísmo do filósofo alemão. Para Martí, como pudemos constatar pelos diversos enunciados acima, o universo está longe de ser a reunião de coisas unas, idênticas. O que destrói essa impossível identidade seria, por exemplo, a “inevitável dualidade” e natureza distinta entre objeto pensado e sujeito pensante. (21:56-57) Assim, existem distintos gêneros de seres e coisas que, na sua variedade e especificidade, são partes constitutivas e constituintes da unidade do universo. Cada parte individual, na sua acidentalidade, leva em si o germe do essencial, do universal. Como teremos oportunidade de comprovar no transcorrer deste trabalho, tal concepção martiana do universo como “unidade do diverso” terá desdobramentos e reflexos em seu modo de encarar outras instâncias e fenômenos, seja no âmbito da natureza ou das sociedades humanas. Em seu artigo publicado no jornal La Opinión Nacional de Caracas, em 1882, sobre o filósofo transcendentalista norte-americano Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), na parte que aborda especificamente esse tema, retomará a mesma tese: “El Universo, con ser múltiple, es uno...” (13:26) Nesse mesmo texto, Martí se identifica com a tese emersoniana que associa essa unidade do universo com um “Uno eterno”, um “Espíritu creador” de todas as coisas. (13:24) Tal unidade se vê reforçada, aqui, pelo reconhecimento da existência de leis e verdades de caráter universal, aplicáveis tanto no plano físico quanto no espiritual e no moral. Portanto, a noção de unidade agora já não se refere, apenas, ao universo em sua manifestação material. Em um artigo para o jornal La Nación, de Buenos Aires, de 1885, escreve: Igual es el universo moral al universo material. Lo que es ley en el curso de un astro por el espacio, es ley en el desenvolvimiento de una idea por el cerebro. Todo es idéntico. (10:197) Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 29 E aqui chegamos a uma outra característica da visão unificadora do universo de Martí, que tem muito que ver com sua postura ante o problema fundamental da filosofia, ou seja, ante as opções entre o materialismo e o idealismo. Martí critica a ambas como exageradas e assume uma posição dualista, na qual admite uma co-existência entre espírito e matéria, sem qualquer possibilidade de determinação. Para ele, tanto o elemento material quanto o espiritual são igualmente importantes e constituem a grande unidade universal. Citando Aristóteles e Platão como os representantes máximos das escolas física (que estuda o mundo tangível e que tem seu extremo na escola materialista) e metafísica (que se dedica ao estudo do intangível e que tem seu extremo na escola espiritualista), respectivamente, concluía que “Las dos unidas son la verdad: cada una aislada es sólo una parte de la verdad, que cae cuando no se ayuda de la otra”. (19:361) Em um artigo para La Opinión Nacional de Caracas, em 1882, Martí escrevia: Que cada grano de materia traiga en sí un grano de espíritu, quiere decir que lo trae, mas no que la materia produjo el espíritu: quiere decir que coexisten, no que un elemento de este ser compuesto creó el otro elemento. ¡Y ése sí es el magnífico fenómeno repetido en todas las obras de la Naturaleza: la coexistencia, la interdependencia, la interrelación de la materia y el espíritu! (23:317) Nesse ponto vale a pena articular as relações entre o uso martiano das noções de identidade e unidade e em que medida são tratadas como sinônimas, ao menos quando se referem ao universo. Tomemos a citação acima referida, em que afirma que “Todo es idéntico” (10:197). Aparentemente, tal afirmação contradiz a crítica martiana ao sistema da identidade universal de Schelling. Já vimos que Martí fundamenta sua argumentação afirmando exatamente que o universo não é a reunião de coisas únicas, idênticas. Entretanto, analisemos alguns usos martianos do termo identidade, no tocante ao universo como um todo. Num artigo para El Partido Liberal, do México, em 1887, escreve: se necesita ser un ignorante cabal, como salen tantos de universidades 30 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho y academias, para no reconocer la identidad del mundo. (11:242- 243) Porém, quais são os critérios constitutivos dessa identidade e em que se diferencia da noção de unidade? Em primeiro lugar, cabe esclarecer que seu vocabulário cosmológico está marcado pelo uso de um contraponto bastante recorrente entre acidente (peculiar e finito) e essência (permanente e invariável) dos objetos e fenômenos. Para o cubano o papel da filosofia transcendental seria “conformar los accidentes del mundo a su esencia, el hombre al Universo y la vida a su fin”. (13:190) Em um rascunho de artigo não publicado sobre o filósofo transcendental Bronson Alcott, escreve: Siéntese el maestro mano a mano con el discípulo, y el hombre mano a mano con su semejante, y aprenda en los paseos por la campiña el alma de la botánica, que no difiere de la universal, y en sus plantas y animales caseros y en los fenómenos celestes confirme la identidad de lo creado... (13:188) Tal texto sugere que a identidade de toda a criação está associada à idéia de que há algo nela que é invariável, representado pela palavra “alma”. Ou seja: há uma “alma universal” presente em todo o criado. Isso porque Martí não vê o mundo como algo monolítico, e sim com níveis e graduações. Cada objeto da criação contém um grau de essência, que, por sua vez, sendo invariável, é o que garante sua identidade com os demais. O que ele rechaça, portanto, é apenas a idéia de uma identidade absoluta, a idéia de um universo como a “unidade de coisas idênticas”. Em suma, um dos aspectos centrais da cosmologia martiana é sua interpretação unitária do mundo e da vida. O pensador cubano estabelece uma gradação vertical do cosmos qual organiza, hierarquicamente, em diversos níveis todos os elementos componentes dessa essência única universal, incluindo tanto os entes materiais quanto os espirituais. No topo dessa hierarquia encontra-se a essência do Espírito Universal – o Uno – gerador de todas as coisas. Sua tese básica, de nítido cunho metafísico, postulava a consubstanciação da matéria e do espírito em um Ser Universal que os ordena e dirige. Esse Ser se prolonga em Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 31 nossa existência e na realidade fenomênica, sendo que as diversas formas assumidas por ele integram um todo unitário e infinito. Matéria e espírito, ambos uma forma de expressão desse Ser primário e essencial e relativizados nessa realidade fenomênica, constituem assim a unidade do todo. Do Ser absoluto, da essência, brotam as relatividades e nessas relatividades existe um substrato comum, que é parte do Ser Universal e que garante a identidade entre todas as coisas. Tal noção de um Ser Universal ou Espírito Universal é, portanto, básica para Martí em sua cosmologia e fundamental para o entendimento de sua visão unitária do mundo. Resta saber em que consiste essa essência comum de todo o Universo analogamente constituído. Em que consiste, afinal, esse Espírito ou Ser Universal martiano – muitas vezes identificado vagamente por ele com a idéia de Deus - do qual emanam todos os seres do universo e que o unifica? O investigador martiano Javier Morales aborda o problema do estabelecimento do que considera essa “misteriosa e onipresente” essência metafísica do universo em Martí e considera que o “amor” constituiria o Uno martiano, a essência que dá coesão metafísica a todos os elementos do universo. (JAVIER MORALES, 1994: 44) Mais adiante, trataremos especificamente desse tema quando do estudo da axiologia martiana. Por ora, cabe ressaltar apenas o esforço de Martí em projetar no universo um elemento superador das constantes e perturbadoras contradições inerentes à existência humana. Recapitulando o que foi visto até aqui, percebem-se no texto martiano algumas importantes associações que envolvem a palavra- referente universo, como os termos síntese, essência, simplicidade, eterno, infinito, que por sua vez, se associam com o princípio de unidade, com sua visão unitária do mundo. É interessante observar a partir da análise do conjunto da obra martiana que tal visão unitária e unificadora do universo não sofre grandes transformações ao longo de sua vida. Está presente desde seus escritos de juventude, como tivemos a oportunidade de ver acima, até uma carta a María Mantilla, escrita no ano de sua morte, em 1895, quando se referia à poesia que lhe inspirava “la unidad del Universo, que encierra tantas cosas diferentes, y es todo uno...” (20:218) Assim, consideramos que este princípio filosófico da unidade universal é 32 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho um elemento fundamental na reflexão filosófica martiana, base na qual se apoiarão alguns dos pilares de sustentação de sua visão de mundo. O PRINCÍPIO DA ANALOGIA UNIVERSAL “Hay leyes en la mente, leyes cual las del río, el mar, la piedra, el astro.” (José Martí - Versos Libres) Como decorrência de sua visão unitária do universo, analisada no tópico anterior, consideramos que a cosmovisão martiana está assentada em um outro princípio filosófico fundamental, a analogia entre todos os seres, as esferas e fenômenos que compõem o universo. Tal qual o princípio anterior, verificamos que essa perspectiva analógica está presente nos textos martianos praticamente ao longo de toda a sua vida como escritor, sem ter sofrido grandes alterações substanciais. Chega a surpreender na leitura da obra martiana a freqüência com que a palavra analogia e suas derivadas povoam seu texto. Afirmações do tipo “Todo es análogo...” estão presentes quase independentemente do tema tratado, da época e do contexto. E mesmo sem a ocorrência textual dessas palavras, ainda há uma quantidade significativa de casos em que aparece a idéia da analogia. Em um artigo para a Revista Universal, do México, de 1875, Martí afirma: “Todo es análogo en la tierra, y cada orden existente tiene relación con otro orden”. (14:20) Nessa perspectiva, as diversas criações da natureza guardam entre si, além de uma estreita e íntima dependência, uma “rigorosa analogia”. (23:238) O princípio da analogia seria assim uma prova evidente de como a unidade universal – “lo uno en lo diverso” - se manifesta no âmbito de cada elemento material ou espiritual, individualmente considerado. A relação de analogia só é possível pelo fato de haver algo em comum e essencial entre essas distintas instâncias. Esse “algo” é a base do que considera identidade universal. Nesse sentido é que se pode afirmar também, sem contradição, que “todo es idéntico”. A primeira decorrência dessa perspectiva é a aceitação de que a Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 33 dinâmica de todo o universo está regida por determinadas leis de caráter e validade universal, ou seja, aplicáveis indistintamente tanto na dimensão físico-material, como na dimensão do universo intangível, espiritual. Embora os homens não nasçam com o conhecimento dessas leis, eles podem chegar a elas pelo caminho da observação e da reflexão. Em 1875, Martí envia um artigo para a Revista Universal, do México, no qual escreve: “En el sistema armónico universal, todo se relaciona con analogías, asciende todo lo análogo con leyes fijas y comunes”. (6:234) E, em um escrito de um de seus cadernos de apontamentos, não datado, encontramos o seguinte texto em que trata das leis da natureza: Aplicad sin miedo a cada acto de la vida las leyes generales de la naturaleza: (...) Las leyes de las mareas son las de los pensamientos. Y las leyes que rigen la existencia de un pueblo, son las mismas que rigen la vida de una flor. (22:324) E assim por diante vai afirmando a validade de um conjunto de leis gerais que estão na base de seu princípio de analogia universal: astros, plantas, homens, sociedades, idéias, política, história, sentimentos, enfim, tudo é regido por idênticas e implacáveis leis da natureza. Daí ser ela própria, a natureza, fonte de todo o conhecimento. Certa vez, em uma carta de 1890 a um amigo, dizia: “Yo para entender mejor a los hombres, estoy estudiando los insectos...”. (1:261) Em um artigo para o jornal argentino La Nación, em 1887, escreve: “Por su órbita andan los astros, y por su órbita anda el hombre. Como se calcula un eclipse, se puede calcular la vida”. (11:155) Essa convicção analógica, aliada à fé no poder das ciências e na cognoscibilidade do mundo, poderia tender na direção de uma grande tentação - de inspiração positivista – que sonhava em decifrar esse conjunto de leis universais e, assim, conhecer, prever – e interferir? - na dinâmica do universo. Veremos, entretanto, em outro momento deste trabalho, como, em parte, Martí se distanciou dessa perspectiva. Retomando a análise dos usos martianos da palavra-chave analogia, podemos constatar que essa noção se distingue da anterior – de unidade universal –, sobretudo, pelo seu caráter mais dinâmico, enquanto a idéia de unidade está associada geralmente a um contexto mais estático. Dessa 34 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho forma, a expressão analogia ou suas derivadas tendem a aparecer na obra martiana em contextos em que faz referência a algum “processo”. Parte do pressuposto de que as coisas não são análogas “em si”, e sim na sua dinâmica. Assim, a analogia está quase sempre referida a um movimento. Vemos que em diversas ocasiões Martí utiliza a expressão “marcha análoga de todo”. (6:256) Em outro artigo de 1875, publicado na Revista Universal, do México, escreve: “Todo marcha transformándose, en constante analogía”. (6:256) Em outro apontamento, escrito provavelmente entre 1885 e 1895, escreve: El movimiento se llama viento en el mar, onda en el río, rumor en el bosque, pasión en la mujer, pensamiento en el hombre. Se nota que todo marcha, y va a crecer. El rumor va al espacio, el río al mar, la pasión a la cima, la idea al cielo. Una onda produce otras ondas; una rama otras ramas; un hijo otros hijos. - Todo se imita y va en escala. (22:218-219) Logo, no texto martiano, a palavra-chave analogia – bem como suas derivadas – se associa com aquilo que, sendo parte de uma essência universal, é invariável e identifica as diversas formas e manifestações do mundo material e imaterial. Nessa perspectiva, Martí acaba por situar as analogias no âmbito das essências. Acontece que tais “analogias essenciais” tendem a se apresentar envoltas de contradições aparentes, que encobrem sua harmonia natural. Percebe-se como que novas palavras-conceitos vão-se associando à palavra-referente universo. Junto às já mencionadas noções de síntese, essência, simplicidade, eterno, infinito, podemos agora incluir as de analogia e harmonia. E este último será exatamente o próximo tema que iremos analisar. O PRINCÍPIO DA HARMONIA UNIVERSAL De modo similar ao princípio da analogia, a cosmovisão martiana está apoiada também em outra premissa filosófica fundamental, que denominaremos aqui de princípio da harmonia universal. Acabamos de ver que as diversas ordens criadas pela natureza guardam entre si, segundo a visão martiana, relações de interdependência e analogia. Isso porque o mundo está regido por diversas leis físicas e morais de validade universal. Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 35 Se nesse sistema unitário e sintético martiano tudo se desenvolve em constante analogia e obedecendo a determinadas leis, há uma lei que regula essas relações entre as diversas ordens, que é exatamente a lei ou princípio da harmonia. Em um artigo para a Revista Universal, de 1875, escreve: “La armonía fue la ley del nacimiento, y será perpetuamente la bella y lógica ley de relación”. (14:20) Daí que ele faz referência ao que considera “el sistema armónico universal”. (6:234) Se é verdade que tudo é análogo, também será verdade que tudo se relaciona de forma harmônica. Nessa perspectiva, portanto, o universo martiano é, além de todas as características já apontadas, essencialmente harmônico. Tal princípio, assumido por Martí, tem inúmeros desdobramentos importantes na sua visão de mundo, refletindo sob vários aspectos na sua interpretação do fenômeno histórico e social. Essa noção de uma harmonia universal está presente desde seus primeiros escritos de juventude, na época em que era estudante na Espanha, dentro de um contexto de apontamentos filosóficos mais gerais. Num desses apontamentos, por exemplo, escreve: Existe distinto género de cosas, y cada una de ellas es una verdad, y cada género hace género distinto de verdades. Hay armonía entre las verdades, porque hay armonía entre las cosas; pero de esta armonía no se puede decir que todas las cosas sean una. (21:55) Já nos referimos anteriormente à noção martiana de um movimento ascensional que parte do diverso em direção à síntese integradora originária. Pois bem, essa ascensão de tudo – essa dinâmica – obedece a leis ou verdades análogas e harmônicas. Se a harmonia foi a “lei de nascimento”, essa “marcha análoga” de tudo não pode efetivar-se por leis de desarmonias ou desigualdades. (6:256) Vale ressaltar como nesse aspecto agiram em Martí algumas influências de perspectiva filosófica sincrética e conciliadora, base de sua visão harmônica. Em 1894, dizia, por exemplo: “Me gusta ver desde mi ventana el lugar donde se encuentran dos caminos”. (21:425) Segundo essa perspectiva, se prevalece a lei da harmonia nas relações entre os seres, não pode - ou não deve - haver contradição na 36 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho natureza. A título de exemplo, em um artigo para La América de Nova York, em 1883, afirmava que “no, no hay contradicciones en la Naturaleza”. (8:378) A premissa aqui é, portanto, de que não há contradições na natureza. Porém, reconhece ao mesmo tempo que elas existem. Como? É que elas não são obra da natureza. Em seu artigo sobre Emerson, de 1882, publicado em La Opinión Nacional de Caracas, Martí escreve: “Las contradicciones no están en la naturaleza, sino en que los hombres no saben descubrir sus analogías”. (13:29) Há uma “aparente” desordem na natureza e o dever primordial do homem é, exatamente, se sobrepor a essa aparência e, assim, descobrir sua essência analógica e harmônica, com o dever de conhecer, por conseguinte, as harmonias do universo. Por outro lado, a palavra-chave harmonia tenderá a vir associada à idéia de uma “obra lógica” (9:304) e à palavra razão. Em um apontamento, escrito provavelmente entre 1886 e 1887, encontramos: “...lo único cierto y perpetuo es lo que la razón aconseja en las letras como en los actos todos de la vida: la armonía”. (21:344) Em um artigo escrito e não publicado, sem data, Martí escreve sobre o abolicionista e pastor protestante Henry Ward Beecher, onde afirma: “Así, donde la razón campea florece la fe en la armonía del Universo”. (13:33) Poder-se-ía deduzir daí que, se há alguma alteração nesse equilíbrio harmônico no âmbito da natureza, esta seria obra do “irracional”. Há algumas passagens no texto martiano em que encontramos alguma referência a essa luta entre o racional e o irracional. Outra questão importante é a freqüência com que aparece associada a palavra “fé” com a idéia de harmonia universal, como algo que surge a partir do momento em que o homem se encontra num estado de gozo da liberdade e da razão. Por que não “convicção” em lugar de “fé”? Percebemos que essa idéia de harmonia, presente ao longo de toda a obra martiana, percorre uma trajetória que não se restringe ao universo das reflexões filosóficas mais abstratas de seus primeiros escritos de juventude. Paulatinamente, sua abordagem tende a vincular e associar tal idéia de harmonia aos conceitos de homem e natureza. Ou seja, nos referimos a uma tendência nos escritos martianos, crescente e Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 37 contínua, a tratar privilegiadamente o tema das relações harmônicas entre homem e natureza. Em artigo para a Revista Universal, de 1875, escreve: Porque todas las fuerzas concuerdan en la naturaleza, todas las fuerzas sociales deben vivir a un tiempo en la humanidad. - Tiene el universo concordia sublime; así concordia es ley para que vivimos en la tierra. (...) Son los hombres cárceles de la armónica vida universal...3 Ressaltamos que consideramos aqui os sinônimos ou desdobramentos da palavra harmonia, também muito freqüentes, tais como concórdia, equilíbrio, regularidade, paz etc. Na perspectiva martiana, a natureza, sendo toda ela harmonia, não poderia ter criado no homem faculdades inarmônicas. (8:441) Disso decorre que, como não há contradições no âmbito da natureza, também não pode haver contradições na esfera da vida humana. Em um apontamento, escrito provavelmente entre 1878 e 1880, declara: aunque nada es en apariencia más descompuesto nada es en realidad más metódico y regular, más predecible y fatal, más incontrastable y normal que nuestra vida. (21:138) Se há, portanto, algum tipo de contradição, desigualdade ou desequilíbrio entre os homens, estes adquirem o caráter de aparentes e/ ou passageiros, não podendo se sobrepor, jamais, à igualdade que a natureza criou. (20:345) Pode ocorrer que, ao longo da história das sociedades, haja algum tipo de interrupção desse equilíbrio natural, efetuada pelos próprios homens. Porém, esse estado desarmônico, por ser antinatural, tende a ser provisório e, logo, as sociedades buscam retomar seu curso interrompido. Assim, harmonia, equilíbrio, concórdia, paz são condições essenciais e naturais do homem em sociedade. Essa idéia de equilíbrio está presente, sobretudo, ao tratar dos valores humanos. Considera, por exemplo, que as virtudes estão distribuídas eqüitativamente entre os homens: se pode faltar em muitos, por outro lado, tende a se concentrar em outros, o que mantém o equilíbrio e preserva a harmonia entre eles. (8:189) 38 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho A partir de uma perpectiva literária, o espanhol Carlos Javier Morales, em seu livro “La poética de José Martí y su contexto”, analisa uma influência dos românticos – no caso de Martí, é evidente a influência do escritor francês Victor Hugo - que marca a cosmologia martiana, e que consiste na aceitação de uma relação dialética entre a analogía e a ironía4. (JAVIER MORALES, 1994: 78-79) Analogia seria entendida aqui como um “estado harmônico final”, o momento em que o homem contempla e apreende o universo como um todo idêntico em essência, e a ironia como a percepção e consciência imediata e dolorosa da fragmentação cósmica, da diversidade da natureza e dos homens. (JAVIER MORALES, 1994: 79-80) O autor parte do pressuposto de que a analogia essencial do universo não é algo que se apresenta a Martí de forma clara e imediata, e que esta constitui-se na verdade duma conquista gradual desse pensador. É a partir da sua experiência e da consciência do diverso à sua volta que o autor tende a buscar uma superação dessa realidade fragmentária mediante uma visão harmônica e conciliatória do mundo. Tal processo é marcado, segundo Morales, por um elemento tipicamente romântico: a dor. Ela seria vista como o caminho para superar as contradições aparentes do universo. Esse estado de fragmentação seria fruto da ação destruidora dos homens: a malignidade humana é a causa do desequilibrio no mundo e é ela que permite a experiência irônica da vida. (JAVIER MORALES, 1994: 83) Nesse contexto, a natureza, com toda a sua autoridade e legitimidade, surge como o modelo por excelência da conduta humana, fonte das leis tanto físicas como morais, surge como o exemplo e símbolo maior da harmonia universal. Reintegrar a harmonia perdida pela maldade dos homens: esse é o propósito último de uma conduta humana pautada pelo amor. É importante ressaltar aqui o caráter acidental do mal frente à harmonia essencial do universo. A visão analógica e harmônica de mundo em Martí estará presente indistintamente ao longo de sua obra, seja em suas incursões filosóficas mais abstratas, seja na abordagem de temas cotidianos mais concretos. Dessa forma, sua cosmovisão analógica não representa uma mera elaboração teórica sobre a constituição metafísica do mundo. Está presente de forma arraigada em seu pensamento e se revela de forma clara nas Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 39 suas impressões sobre os diversos aspectos da realidade à sua volta. Assim, percebe-se que ao tratar do que denominamos aqui de princípios filosóficos que constituem a base da cosmovisão martiana, quais sejam, seus princípios unitário, analógico e harmônico, nos guiamos pela preocupação em identificar alguns parâmetros que norteiam a interpretação textual que empreende sobre o mundo ao seu redor, presentes de forma constante e praticamente independente de contexto, época e meio em que se expressam. Nesse processo, consideramos como referente básico de análise uma idéia abstrata e generalizadora de “universo” e seus correlatos, como mundo, natureza etc. Entretanto, a utilização “prática” desses critérios tende a se concentrar de forma privilegiada, embora não exclusiva, na sua análise da relação entre outros dois referentes conceituais básicos da sua visão de mundo que passaremos a analisar em seguida: homem e natureza. A IDÉIA DE “NATUREZA” Começamos, uma vez mais, pela análise de seus apontamentos filosóficos da época de estudante na Espanha. A natureza se inscreve como tema privilegiado em seus textos, num primeiro momento, como objeto de suas reflexões de ordem gnoseológica. A primeira grande inquietude nesse plano diz respeito à busca da verdadeira fonte do conhecimento das “coisas”. Considera Martí que, já que as “causas das coisas” não se nos revelam diretamente, todo questionamento e busca dessas causas deve se dirigir à natureza observável, única fonte filosófica possível. Importante observar aqui que ele define a filosofia como a ciência das causas. (19:360-363) E, assim, ele próprio se preocupa em apresentar uma definição de natureza: ¿Qué es la naturaleza? El pino agreste, el viejo roble, el bravo mar, los ríos que van al mar como a la Eternidad vamos los hombres; la Naturaleza es el rayo de luz que penetra las nubes y se hace arco iris; el espíritu humano que se acerca y eleva con las (...) nubes del alma, y se hace bienaventurado. Naturaleza es todo lo que existe, en toda forma, - espíritus y cuerpos; corrientes esclavas en su cauce; raíces esclavas en la tierra; pies, esclavos como las raíces; lamas, 40 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho menos esclavas que los pies. El misterioso mundo íntimo, el maravilloso mundo externo, cuanto es, deforme o luminoso y oscuro, cercano o lejano, vasto o raquítico, licuoso o terroso, regular todo, medido todo menos el cielo y el alma de los hombres (...) es Naturaleza. (19:364) Percebe-se aqui que a palavra natureza representa, conforme tal delimitação, “tudo o que existe” – incluído o homem -, conceito que coloca o termo natureza, ao menos nesse sentido generalizador aqui tratado, como sinônimo de universo. Tal relação sinonímica nos autorizaria, portanto, a considerar, da mesma forma, as associações que empreendemos anteriormente em torno da palavra-chave universo, quais sejam, as noções de síntese, essência, simplicidade, eterno, infinito. Assim, à natureza se aplicam também os mesmos princípios norteadores de sua visão de mundo já tratados acima: a natureza é a unidade do diverso, análoga e harmônica. Nesse sentido, sua visão de mundo pode ser reduzida à percepção do que ele define por natureza. Dessa forma, a concepção martiana de natureza não se restringe àquilo que entendemos por “realidade” concreta ou àquilo que o homem percebe por meio de suas sensações. Para ele a natureza engloba tanto o tangível como o intangível. Em um de seus apontamentos, em que comentava alguns livros que planejava escrever, estava um que se intitulava “El plan de la Naturaleza”, cujo objetivo seria, dentro de seu princípio de que a natureza é a fonte de todo conhecimento, abordar Para qué sirve cada cosa; Por qué cada cosa es como es, Cómo está todo distribuido, o variado, o especificado, conforme a las necesidades. (18:287) Notamos aqui uma visão da natureza que tende a um tipo de funcionalismo, segundo a qual tudo na natureza tem uma razão de ser e cumpre uma função precisa e necessária ao equilíbrio e à harmonia do conjunto, obedecendo a determinadas leis gerais. Leis que regem um movimento natural, análogo e harmônico, que não pode - ou não deve - ser precipitado nem muito menos contido pela ação humana. (20:251) Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 41 Em artigo para Patria, de 1892, encontramos: “El mundo sangra sin cesar de los crímenes que se cometen en él contra la naturaleza”. (4:381) Que a natureza “siga su curso majestuoso”. (21:163) Sobre essa marcha análoga de tudo, escreve um artigo para a Revista Universal, do México, em 1875, em que afirma: Va todo andando y creciendo, de arroyo a río, de río a mar, de madre a hijo, de arbusto a árbol, de niño a hombre, de imperfección a perfección... (6:225) Tal assertiva sugere um certo “evolucionismo positivo” nessa visão da dinâmica do universo, que é nada mais que um desdobramento daquele movimento a que já nos referimos, que consiste na idéia de uma constante ascensão partindo do vário e diverso – leia-se imperfeito, limitado – em direção à síntese superior - perfeita e ilimitada. Comentando o livro “Nature” de Emerson, quando da sua morte em 1882, se identificava com a tese do escritor transcendentalista norte-americano de que “el hombre limitado irá a dar en el Creador sin límites...” (23:305) Em alguns momentos, encara a natureza - como nos textos sobre Emerson - como fonte de inspiração de uma espécie de poesia universal – um “drama lógico” -, e mais, tende a ver a natureza como um “templo imenso”, com seus “ritos solenes”. (19:355) Conhecer esse plano lógico da natureza, a atuar conforme ele, é o grande dever dos homens e mesmo o profundo sentido da vida humana. A natureza assume a condição de fonte de todo o conhecimento, útil e necessário ao bem-estar da humanidade. Em um artigo para a revista La América de Nova York, em 1883, escreve: A las aves, alas; a los peces, aletas; a los hombres que viven en la Naturaleza, el conocimiento de la Naturaleza: ésas son sus alas”. (8:278) Estudar as forças da natureza e aprender a manejá-las é o melhor caminho para a solução dos problemas sociais. (13:52) Somente esse conhecimento da natureza - que é auto-conhecimento, já que o homem se encontra a si mesmo na própria natureza – pode garantir a felicidade entre os homens, pois essa felicidade só é possível pelo caminho das virtudes que a própria natureza inspira. Por fim, a natureza é 42 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho fundamentalmente o critério, a fonte de paz e justiça para os homens: as diferenças sociais, inimigas da paz, são contrárias à natureza. (2:299) Vemos aqui como a visão martiana da natureza é presidida por critérios amplos que englobam tanto aspectos éticos e estéticos, quanto filosóficos e/ou científicos. Do que foi visto até aqui, percebe-se como o centro das reflexões martianas sobre o universo vai-se deslocando de uma análise da natureza “em si” e se concentrando nas relações entre a natureza e o homem. É perceptível como que a idéia martiana de natureza evolui ao longo do tempo incorporando, pouco a pouco, uma dimensão cada vez mais histórica, no sentido de superação de uma perspectiva que encara a natureza exclusivamente como uma ordem previamente estabelecida por fatores extra-humanos. Assim, torna-se necessário, portanto, orientar nossa análise no rumo dessas relações entre homem e natureza. Antes, porém, abordaremos a idéia martiana de “homem”. A CONCEPÇÃO MARTIANA SOBRE O SER HUMANO Em primeiro lugar, torna-se necessária uma redobrada atenção na análise dos textos martianos para uma distinção fundamental entre quando ele utiliza a palavra homem no singular, no sentido de espécie humana, de quando ele se refere a “cada homem” em específico. Da mesma forma, exige-se cautela nos contextos para distinguir entre o uso da palavra homens, também no sentido de espécie humana, de homens apenas para se referir a uma coletividade social concreta. Poderíamos antecipar que, na cosmovisão martiana, a partir de algumas evidências encontradas em seus textos, nos arriscamos a afirmar que o homem não ocupa, como veremos, uma posição central em torno do qual giraria todo o universo. (15:194) O homem ocupa, sim, em Martí uma posição central como objeto de suas reflexões filosóficas, o que não é o mesmo que afirmar que em Martí o homem constitui o centro do Universo, como sugere o filósofo Jiménez Grullón5. De qualquer maneira, o importante, aqui, é destacar como o termo homem constitui-se precisamente num dos referentes conceituais e temáticos fundamentais Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 43 da visão de mundo de José Martí. Comecemos nossa análise pelas próprias definições martianas de “homem”. De um ponto de vista genérico, em um artigo para a Revista Universal do México, de 1875, escreve que o homem é “un pedazo del cuerpo infinito”. (6:226) Porém, ele não “é” infinito. E num apontamento da juventude, encontramos: “El hombre es una forma perfeccionada de la vida”. (22:249) Entretanto, uma forma “aperfeiçoada” de vida, superior, portanto, a outras formas de vida, não quer dizer uma forma “perfeita” de vida. Partimos do pressuposto de que o homem, na perspectiva martiana, não se funde completamente com a natureza, que é, segundo sua própria definição, infinita e essencialmente harmônica. É como se houvesse uma espécie de estrutura hierárquica entre as formas do universo, na qual a matéria ocupasse uma posição inferior em relação ao espírito ou à alma (lembremos que na concepção de Martí o homem é um ser dual, uma combinação de matéria e espírito). Assim, o homem, por ser – ainda que em parte – matéria, não goza como um todo do mesmo status do espírito criador universal. Tudo isso resulta, em decorrência dessa visão dualista do homem, no reconhecimento do ser humano com um ser complexo – diverso e múltiplo - e que, diferentemente da natureza como um todo, é passível de um certo nível de contradição. A mesma natureza que cria “árvores com manchas” e “céu com nuvens” cria também o homem com “entrañas y menudencias”. (22:151) Já nos seus primeiros escritos de juventude encontramos a seguinte passagem: Yo. Esto es. Una personalidad briosa e impotente, libérrima y esclava, nobilísima y miserable, - divina y humanísima, delicada y grosera, noche y luz. Esto soy yo. Esto es cada alma. Esto es cada hombre. (21:68) Percebe-se aqui o contraponto divino-humano e as possíveis associações com os demais contrapontos, que relaciona o divino com algo “positivo” e o humano com algo “negativo”. Nesta citação, também parece não haver distinção entre “cada alma” e “cada homem”. Porém, em vários textos de épocas posteriores em que se refere à “alma humana”, insiste em sua “unidade” e “singularidade”. A título de exemplo, em um artigo para La Opinión Nacional de Caracas, Martí considerava que: 44 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho “¡Una es el alma humana, y múltiples sus aposentos pintorescos!” (13:220) Essa “alma humana” representa a porção eterna, essência imortal e perfeita que habita o corpo de cada ser humano. É o que garante sua crença numa identidade fundamental do homem. Em um artigo para Patria, de 1892, escreveu: “La naturaleza del hombre es por todo el universo idéntica...” (5:260) Reconhece, assim, a idéia de uma natureza humana universal: o homem é possuidor de “natureza” própria, algo “natural”, que nasce com ele e é inerente a toda a espécie humana, em contraposição com o que é adquirido ou imposto, peculiar em cada indivíduo. Nesse ponto, Martí sempre manifestou sua preocupação com o tema da vida humana em geral, bem como com as ações humanas: com o que há nelas de comum à toda espécie e o que há de imprevisto e peculiar a cada pessoa. Inclusive, chega a resenhar, em 1884, para a revista nova-iorquina La América um livro do escritor Alexander Bain, que trata exatamente desse tema, onde expõe algumas dessas suas preocupações. (13:452) Num de seus cadernos de apontamentos, encontramos o seguinte manuscrito, sem data, que ilustra bem essa inquietação: ¿Qué me importa saber lo que el hombre hizo en este determinado momento de su vida, en esta o aquella época concreta, accidental y transitoria? - Su esencia permanente es lo que quiero investigar, no efectos que pasan, sino la causa que las produce busco. No me importan las estaciones del camino humano, que se levantan y destruyen en arreglo a las conveniencias de los vivientes, sino el vapor, - acomodable, pero libre, que echa a andar el tren por ellas. (21:186) Fica evidente sua preocupação ontológica, sua ânsia por identificar essa invariável “essência humana”. Em um artigo de El Sudamericano, de Buenos Aires, escrito em 1890, escreve: “...el hombre es uno, y el orden y la entidad son las leyes sanas e irrefutables de la naturaleza”. (7:371) É importante ressaltar que sob o aspecto filosófico a palavra entidad admite como sinônimo a noção de unidade do diverso, ou seja, de uma coletividade considerada como um todo único ou idêntico. Assim, segundo Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 45 a irrefutável lei da natureza, o homem preserva sua unidade dentro da diversidade. Esse princípio servirá de base para a crítica de Martí a todo tipo de racismo ou contra as perspectivas de caráter evolucionista – muito difundidas em sua época - que consideravam algum tipo de hierarquia – critérios de superioridade-inferioridade - entre as distintas etnias e culturas em que se dividem os homens. Em seu famoso artigo “Nuestra América”, publicado em El Partido Liberal, do México, em 1891, reafirmava a idéia de uma identidade universal do homem e considerava que “El alma emana, igual y eterna, de los cuerpos diversos en forma y en color”. (6:22) Qualquer critério de diferenciação que implique a noção de desigualdade, no sentido de superioridade- inferioridade, torna-se contrário às leis da natureza, que é toda igualdade e harmonia. Se há distintos níveis de desenvolvimento das sociedades humanas, tudo se relaciona exclusivamente às circunstâncias históricas e ao meio em que estão inseridos esses homens, e não a critérios de qualquer outra ordem. Num artigo de 1884 para a revista La América, de Nova York, escrevia: ...el hombre, dondequiera que nazca, es semejante a sí mismo; y puesto en igual época, o en iguales condiciones, ante la naturaleza, produce obras espontáneas, necesaria y aisladamente semejantes. (23:23) Martí planejou escrever um livro sobre o “conceito da vida”. Embora o livro nunca tenha sido editado, seu idealizador deixou registrados vários textos em que sintetiza o conteúdo e propósito geral de seu projeto, que representava, segundo ele próprio, sua preocupação com a questão da vida ilusória que as convenções humanas impõem à verdadeira natureza humana. Em um artigo escrito originalmente em inglês para o The Sun, de Nova York, em 1881, Martí, resenhando uma obra do literato ligado à “Escola Realista”, Gustave Flaubert, afirmava que para o escritor francês This existence of ours is artificial. (...) Flaubert endeavours to put in front of this imposed and conventional life the simple and plain life of nature6. (15:211) 46 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho Vários outros textos evidenciam que Martí compartilhava dessa mesma idéia. Assim, segundo ele, a aquisição pelo ser humano ao longo de sua vida de uma série de convenções e imposições filosóficas, políticas, religiosas, familiares etc. tendiam a encobrir a vida espontânea e natural dos homens. Para Martí, o homem em sociedade constrói e carrega diante de si uma máscara que oculta sua verdadeira e natural essência. (7:230) Quando se refere, portanto, ao homem, faz questão de distinguir entre aparências e essências humanas. Importante distinção esta por se constituir numa das bases de seu conceito, que vamos analisar ainda neste trabalho, de “homem natural”. De um ponto de vista filosófico, para Martí a dualidade natural entre espírito e matéria alcança seu mais alto nível no ser humano, por este ser dotado de consciência da própria existência. O homem, por levar consigo algo de essência, pode potencialmente se constituir num intermediário entre o mundo das relatividades ou contingências – da matéria - e o mundo do absoluto - das essências -, já que seu espírito é parte do Espírito Universal. Sendo o homem também constituído de matéria - por isso uma criatura imperfeita e contraditória -, sua consciência deve ter a função de transformá-lo no sentido de um aperfeiçoamento contínuo para, a partir de sua relatividade, alcançar o mundo do absoluto – movimento de ascensão. Para Martí esse movimento se dá pelo exercício do bem, que dirige a vida humana e que constitui a substância do Ser Universal. Daí, podemos perceber como a visão de homem em Martí está marcada fundamentalmente por critérios éticos e morais. Em seguida, passaremos a analisar alguns critérios em que Martí se apóia para procurar respostas ao que é “ser homem”. Cabe ressaltar que tais critérios encontram-se, fundamentalmente, em sua ética, ou seja, visam a definir o homem a partir de determinados valores morais. Assim, a primeira premissa que Martí considera é a bondade “natural” do homem. Abundam em seus textos afirmações do tipo: “El hombre es bueno”. (8:167) Em um artigo para a Revista Universal, México, de 1875, escreve: “yo creo absolutamente en la bondad de los hombres”7. Em outro Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 47 artigo para a mesma revista e na mesma época, diz: “...no se ha ahogado la voz común en el ser humano: al fin es el ser humano esencial y activamente bueno”. (14:22) Tal premissa se apresenta não só em documentos dirigidos ao público, como podemos ver em duas cartas ao amigo mexicano Manuel Mercado: uma escrita em 1878, quando afirma: “Creo, sobre todo, y cada vez me afirmo en ello, en la absoluta bondad de los hombres”; (29:26-27) outra, de 1886, na qual escreve: “...yo soy siempre aquel loco incorregible que cree en la bondad de los hombres...” (20:74) Desnecessário se torna listar uma série de passagens em que reafirma essa mesma idéia. Porém, por outro lado, apesar dessa “natural” bondade, Martí considerava que todo homem era portador também, ainda que apenas “em potencial” ou “em germe”, de todo tipo de vilezas e maldades que poderiam ou não ser ativadas. Em 1876, escreve na Revista Universal, do México, referindo-se ao homem: “Se nace siempre bueno; el mal se hace después”. (6:446) E em 1888 escreve para o jornal La Nación de Buenos Aires: “Lo más vil o bestial ha aparecido en algún instante posible o deseable al alma más limpia”. (11:478) Se o homem é “feito de luz e deve dar luz”, há que considerar também as “decomposições” da luz humana. Para Martí a natureza humana é má por “acidente” e nobre por “essência”. (4:188) Uma vez mais encontramos aqui o contraponto superfície-essência. Assim, os erros dos homens se dão em decorrência de sua própria condição “humana” - imperfeita? -, enquanto suas virtudes são “divindades” que neles agem, que estão presentes na “alma humana”. Assim, ser verdadeiramente homem é controlar esses impulsos bestiais que comprometem sua natural bondade. O sentido da vida humana para Martí tende sobretudo ao cumprimento de um dever, de uma missão delegada pela natureza criadora. Em 1886, escreve para La Nación que “Un hombre es un deber vivo; un depositario de fuerzas que no debe dejar en embrutecimiento...” (10:376). A Natureza favorece os homens com determinados talentos e aptidões, que, em retribuição, têm o dever de corresponder aos seus favores praticando o bem. Num escrito da juventude, afirmava que: 48 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho Cuando se conoce la vida, sólo el deber es grato; sólo él es digno de obediencia; sólo él da fuerzas para afrontar la malignidad de los hombres... (22:188) Num discurso em comemoração ao 10 de Outubro de 1868 - data da deflagração da primeira guerra de independência de Cuba, conhecida como a Guerra dos Dez Anos -, pronunciado em 1890 em Nova York, Martí afirmava: “...el verdadero hombre no mira de qué lado se vive mejor, sino de qué lado está el deber; y ése es el verdadero hombre...” (4:247) Dever, portanto, de combater o mal e cultivar virtudes essenciais. Se, como vimos, os homens são “essencialmente” iguais, a única diferença possível será aquela que coloca em dois campos opostos homens “generosos” e “egoístas”. (22:51) Num artigo para La América de 1884, Martí escreve: Observando a los hombres, se ve que no es cada uno una entidad definitivamente aislada y con un carácter exclusivo, que venga a ser una combinación original de los elementos humanos comunes; sino un tipo de una de las varias especies en que los hombres se dividen, según existe en ellos dominante el amor de sí, o no exista, o coexista con el amor a los demás... (15:395) Se a vida é, antes de tudo, um dever, este deve visar ao bem alheio, ou, ainda, ao bem humano, pela prática do amor. Se o homem nasce com algum tipo de talento especial, aumenta sua obrigação de retribuir essa dádiva da natureza em benefício dos seus semelhantes. Assim, conclui, num escrito de 1895, que “Dar es ser hombre; y recibir, no”. (19:186) Dessa forma, vemos de que maneira Martí fundamenta sua idéia de “homem”: depositário de alguns valores determinados que, ao mesmo tempo, o definem. Para ele, o homem é, antes de tudo, um homem de virtudes e a vida humana se realiza pelo exercício dessas virtudes. Daí, a importância que irão adquirir em sua obra, na definição do “verdadeiro homem”, os valores morais de honra, dignidade, caráter, altruísmo, abnegação, sacrifício próprio em benefício alheio e tantos outros que compõem sua ética de profundo sentido humanitário. Ser homem é, antes de tudo, praticar esses valores. Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 49 Outra face desse homem está relacionada com a perspectiva de Martí, que considera a trajetória humana marcada pela evolução do “hombre-fiera” ao “hombre-ala”. Em um artigo para La América, de Nova York, de 1883, afirmava que todo hombre es una fiera dormida. Es necesario poner riendas a la fiera. Y el hombre es una fiera admirable: le es dado llevar las riendas de sí mismo. (5:110) “Ser homem” é, dessa forma, sujeitar a fera que se encontra dentro de si. Em um artigo para La Nación, de Buenos Aires, de 1883, Martí dizia que “está el progreso del hombre en ir matando fieras”. (9:456) Assim, nem todos os que têm a forma humana “são homens”. Somente o serão quando dominarem a ignorância e rudeza naturais, o que trazem da fera, estudarem e conhecerem as forças e leis da natureza, aprenderem a manejá-las em benefício da humanidade, adquirirem, enfim, consciência de sua missão de “homem”. É quando, então, o homem se torna consciente e “dono de si mesmo”, “co-rei da natureza”. Por outro lado, se é preciso, por obrigação com a natureza, desenvolver a inteligência, essa é só “meio homem”. Esse, para se completar em sua inteireza, precisa fazer bom uso dessa inteligência pela prática das virtudes. Essa trajetória do homem- fera ao homem-asa é marcada, segundo a perspectiva martiana, pela evolução necessária “del hombre embrionario, batallador y egoísta de la Naturaleza, al hombre desinteresado y pacífico de la civilización”. (8:187) Assim, percebe-se que a vida humana traz algo de imperfeito: fazer-se homem implica retificá-la segundo determinados valores. A RELAÇÃO “HOMEM-POVO” Antes de passar propriamente à análise dos sentidos da palavra “pueblo” em Martí, torna-se necessário esclarecer como ele considerava a existência de tipos diferentes de homens. Comecemos pela premissa de que a natureza criadora não concede ou distribui os talentos e habilidades de forma igualitária a todos os homens. Com isso, Martí estabelece uma espécie de hierarquia entre homens “vulgares” e homens “geniais” (19:96), ou entre “gente comum” e “espíritos superiores”. 50 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho (21:162) Em um artigo para a Revista Universal, do México, escrito em 1875, escreve: El género humano tiene montañas y llanuras, y así hablan las montañas de la tierra con las alturas de los cielos, como los genios entre los hombres con las altezas y las excelencias del espíritu. (6:222) As virtudes estão distribuídas pela natureza de forma invariável. Por isso, quando em determinadas sociedades há muitos homens de pouca virtude, a natureza costuma criar seres humanos avassaladores, especiais, de extremo gênio e poder, a fim de manter e garantir o equilíbrio natural das virtudes nessa sociedade. Desta forma, Martí considera o que chama de “pro-hombres” ou simplesmente heróis, que cumprem importante função social. A função de um pro-hombre é, fundamentalmente, “fazer homens”. São os homens ardentes, purificadores da espécie humana, “homens-tocha” que se consomem iluminando. (11:145) Num artigo sobre os heróis hispano-americanos, publicado em 1889 na revista infantil La Edad de Oro, Martí dizia: cuando hay muchos hombres sin decoro, hay siempre otros que tienen en sí el decoro de muchos hombres. (...) En esos hombres van miles de hombres, va un pueblo entero, va la dignidad humana. Esos hombres son sagrados. (18:305) E, assim, sintetiza em artigo para a Revista Universal, de 1875: “Así se es hombre: vertido en todo un pueblo”. (6:314) Em um artigo para Patria, de 1893, sobre seu herói paradigmático Simón Bolívar, Martí esclarecia que No es que los hombres hacen los pueblos, sino que los pueblos, con su hora de génesis, suelen ponerse, vibrantes y triunfantes, en un hombre. A veces está el hombre listo y no lo está su pueblo. A veces está listo el pueblo y no aparece el hombre. (8:251) Com todas essas citações queremos chegar à questão de como na cosmovisão martiana está presente a idéia de um movimento ascensional, já analisado anteriormente, que se aplica ao ser humano em geral e converge para os “homens-tocha”. Há no texto martiano, Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 51 entretanto, evidências que nos fazem crer que, segundo sua visão, nesse trajeto da imperfeição à perfeição, há estágios intermediários entre os dois pólos extremos homem e natureza. Percebe-se que na medida em que o referencial de análise se desloca da consideração de cada homem, individualmente, para o coletivo dos seres humanos ganha-se em equilíbrio, em harmonia. Por isso que a própria figura do “pro-hombre” (gênio ou herói) é valorizada positivamente quanto mais esse tipo especial de homem é capaz de “condensar” todo um povo. Resumindo essa visão, em um artigo para o jornal La Nación, de Buenos Aires, em 1886, o próprio Martí define um “pueblo” como “un paso más dado hacia arriba por un concierto de verdaderos hombres”. (10:376) Quanto mais se avança na consideração de uma coletividade, o julgamento martiano acerca dos homens tende a ser mais positivo, como podemos observar pelo que escreveu para La Nación, em 1885: “Los hombres, uno a uno, son cosa triste de ver: en conjunto, admiran”. (10:148) E em outro artigo para o mesmo jornal em 1888, escreve: “El hombre es feo; pero la humanidad es hermosa”. (11:383) Em suma, não pode haver grandeza em homens desvinculados de seu povo ou de sua coletividade. Afastando-se de uma definição estritamente “biologista” e transcendental do homem, Martí incorpora uma dimensão histórica, segundo a qual a única maneira de ser um homem de todos os tempos, de passar à imortalidade, é ser um homem de seu próprio tempo8. (21:143) Num de seus apontamentos, Martí deixa expresso que “Nada es un hombre en sí, y lo que es, lo pone en él su pueblo”. (13:34) Os verdadeiros homens são “produtos, expressões e reflexos” de seu povo e de sua época. A RELAÇÃO “HOMEM-NATUREZA” “De la fealdad del hombre a la belleza Del Universo asciendo”. (José Martí) Quando nos referimos e analisamos a palavra-chave universo, identificamos algumas associações freqüentes no texto martiano, tais como as noções de unidade, síntese, essência, simplicidade, eterno, 52 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho infinito, analogia, harmonia, perfeição etc. Quanto à palavra-chave homem e suas derivadas, percebemos a tendência martiana em associar algumas noções que marcam um sentido de certo contraponto à palavra- chave universo – e por extensão a seu sinônimo natureza -, por exemplo, quando relaciona homem com as idéias de fragmento, múltiplo-variado, acidente, complexo, passageiro, finito, imperfeição etc. Como base nesse contraponto, o homem se vê inferiorizado e pequeno diante da natureza que o cria e mata; por isso, aspira, fundamentalmente, à felicidade e à imortalidade. (18:330) A existência humana é, portanto, com tudo ao que está associada, imperfeita: o único consolo do homem é poder assumir-se como parte integrante da natureza perfeita, harmônica e infinita. Assim, o homem encontra a natureza em si e nela encontra a si próprio, a partir da convicção de que há em ambos elementos e fins iguais. Cabe ao homem estudar a natureza para que conheça a si mesmo. A natureza é fonte de todo o conhecimento e o conhecimento da natureza são as “asas” dos homens. (8:278) Conhecer e confiar na harmonia da natureza dão à vida humana um outro sabor e sentido, ao afastar a tristeza. (23:328) Assim, os únicos momentos de felicidade absoluta são os de pleno desinteresse, de confusão do homem com a natureza. (19:369-370) A natureza é a grande escola. Martí considera as ciências naturais como “códigos de virtude”, na medida em que elas inspiram serenidade, justiça, fé e modéstia. O resultado desse estudo é que traz, por um lado, certo desconsolo ao espírito do homem pelo fato de que ele toma consciência de sua insignificância, se considerado em “si mesmo”. Por outro lado, todavia, traz o consolo e o ímpeto de ser membro e fazer parte da “obra universal” em que colabora. Tomar consciência da insignificância humana educa para a modéstia, que é a ante-sala da virtude e do amor. Assim, surge no discurso martiano uma consciência da imortalidade, já que coloca o homem em fusão com a natureza eterna. (8:433) Entretanto, a realidade dessa relação entre homem e natureza torna-se mais complexa na sua historicidade. A presença e intervenção cada vez mais intensa do homem sobre os domínios da natureza leva a uma situação em que muitas vezes ele pode, com sua ação, interromper Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 53 o seu “curso majestoso” e natural, quando devia acompanhar em harmonia esse movimento. Em um de uma série de artigos que Martí escreveu para La América, de Nova York, sem data, ele afirma que essa intervenção humana na natureza acelera, muda e detém sua obra e, mais, que “...toda la Historia es solamente la narración del trabajo de ajuste, y los combates, entre la Naturaleza extrahumana y la Naturaleza humana...” (23:44) Em um artigo em que faz uma análise semântica de alguns textos martianos, Franco Avicolli considera que o homem e a natureza são os referentes conceituais e temáticos do mundo martiano e que a relação natural entre ambos, ou seja, entre a atuação do homem e os valores da natureza, é o que estabelece os valores próprios do homem e suas possibilidades de desenvolvimento. Por outro lado, tudo o que nega essa relação natural é causa de decadência. Para o autor, uma “ação agônica” se manifesta quando homem e natureza adquirem uma progressiva dimensão histórica9. (AVICOLLI: 1986, 107-140) Apesar de o homem estar integrado na harmonia natural como reflexo da criação, não implica que o equilíbrio das relações entre homem e natureza seja perfeito. Por outro lado, mesmo considerando as insuficiências e imperfeições inerente à natureza humana, Martí não deixou de situar o homem no centro de suas reflexões. Cabe ressaltar, ao menos nesse aspecto das relações entre homem e natureza, uma evidente confluência entre o pensamento de Martí e o do escritor norte-americano, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Em seu artigo sobre a morte do autor de “Nature”, publicado em La Opinión Nacional, de Caracas, em 1882, Martí realiza, na verdade, uma espécie de autoprojeção sobre tal obra, ativando nela aqueles elementos do ideário de Emerson que se aproximam mais da sua própria maneira de encarar o homem e a natureza. Em suma, ele identifica na obra e nos caracteres de Emerson muito de seu próprio pensamento. Destacamos alguns desses elementos, em especial a tese emersoniana da fusão entre homem e natureza. O escritor norte-americano vê aí, segundo Martí, uma relação de co- incidências e inter-influências recíprocas. Para Martí, Emerson recupera o homem e o coloca no papel de “co-rey” da natureza. Não estabelece 54 Eugênio Rezende de Carvalho distinção entre o físico e o moral e considera que tudo é idêntico e tem o mesmo fim. Para ele, cada homem – como todas as coisas criadas - tem em si o criador e que, por isso, tudo irá confluir no seio do “Espírito Criador”. (13:24) Considera, ainda, que a natureza inspira, consola e prepara o homem para a virtude e que esse homem só se encontra completo na sua íntima relação com a natureza. Numa palavra, a visão martiana da natureza, de traços nitidamente românticos, tende a idealizá-la em sua harmonia e perfectibilidade com um viés espiritual típico de sua formação filosófica. E essa natureza assim idealizada, com toda sua autoridade e legitimidade, tende a transformar-se numa referência moral de justiça e harmonia para o conjunto dos homens. Assim, a conduta humana para Martí há de guiar- se em última instância - o que nem sempre ocorre - pelos valores que ele próprio acaba por conferir à natureza. NOTAS 1 Este texto é fruto das investigações relativas ao projeto de pesquisa em nível de doutoramento junto ao Programa de Pós-Graduação em História da Universidade de Brasília e constitui-se de uma parte adaptada da tese do autor intitulada “América para a humanidade: o americanismo universalista de José Martí”. 2 Como a ampla maioria das citações de José Martí empregadas neste trabalho se referem à última edição das suas Obras Completas, utilizaremos como padrão de referência, no âmbito desse trabalho, entre parênteses, respectivamente, o volume e a página da citação, exceto obviamente nos casos em que a fonte se refere à outra publicação. 3 Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos, Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 2, La Habana, 1979, p. 5. 4 Este tema foi estudado com maior profundidade por José Olivio Jiménez em La raíz y el ala: aproximaciones críticas a la obra literaria de José Martí, Pretextos, Valencia, 1993. 5 JIMENEZ GRULLÓN, Juan J. La filosofía de José Martí, Santo Domingo, República Dominicana, Editorial Santo Domingo, 1986, p. 60. Revista Brasileira do Caribe, I (1): 25-56, ago./dez., 2000 55 6 “Nossa existência é artificial. (...) Flaubert tenta colocar ante esta vida imposta e convencional a vida simples e corrente da natureza”. (Tradução de ERC) 7 Anuario Martiano, Sala Martí de la Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba, N. 2, La Habana, 1970, pp. 111-113. 8 Segundo Noël Salomon, “No solo en cuanto al pasado sino también por lo que al futuro se refiere, José Martí establece la necesidad de la adecuación entre individuo y grupo. Ya vimos su fe en la eternidad metafísica del “alma individual”. Si negar la importancia del tema de la “salvación” personal merecen interés especial los textos de José Martí donde aparece una concepción de la inmortalidad terrestre del hombre mucho más relacionada con la historia colectiva, que no con el tema de la “salvación” individual tan acentuado en el catolicismo desde San Agustín.” (SALOMON, Noël. “En torno al idealismo de José Martí”, en Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos, Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 1, La Habana, 1978, pp. 41-58). 9 AVICOLLI, Franco. “Análisis semántico de cuatro textos martianos”, en Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos. Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 9, La Habana, 1986, pp. 107-140. REFERÊNCIAS BIBLIOGRÁFICAS Anuário Martiano, 7 vols., publicado pela Sala Martí da Biblioteca Nacional de Cuba, Havana-Cuba, 1969 a 1977. Anuário del Centro de Estudios Martianos, 16 vols., publicado pelo Centro de Estudios Martianos, Havana-Cuba, 1977 a 1997. AVICOLLI, Franco, “Análisis semántico de cuatro textos martianos”, en Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos, Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 9, La Habana, 1986, pp. 107-140. JAVIER MORALES, Carlos, La poética de José Martí y su contexto, Madrid, Editorial Verbum, 1994. JIMENEZ GRULLÓN, Juan J. La filosofía de José Martí, Santo Domingo, República Dominicana, Editorial Santo Domingo, 1986, p. 60. MARTÍ, José, Obras Completas. 27 tomos. Segunda edición. La Habana: Editorial de Ciencias Sociales, 1975, Primera edición publicada por la Editorial Nacional de Cuba, en coordinación con la Editora del Consejo Nacional de Cultura y la Editora del Consejo Nacional de Universidades, La Habana, 1963-1965. SALOMON, Noël, “En torno al idealismo de José Martí”, en Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos, Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 1, La Habana, 1978, pp. 41-58. TOLEDO, Josefina, “En torno a la relación hombre-naturaleza en José Martí”, en Anuario del Centro de Estudios Martianos, Centro de Estudios Martianos, N. 16, La Habana, 1993, pp. 143-158. 
work_f6ap5b23mzb4dpt3x7p76q4w6y	----	aggliko-exofillo-16 American Literature for a Post-American Era Antonis Balasopoulos Wai Chee Dimock and Lawrence Buell, eds. Shades of the Planet: American Literature as World Literature. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2007. 304 pp. $ 24.95 paper. ISBN: 0691128529. It is one of the mordant ironies of the post 9/11 era that the objective of the so-called “post-nationalist” turn in American Studies—dislodging the study of American literature and culture from the parochial framework of the nation-state—now seems at once precipitate and obsolete. It appears precipitate to the extent that what followed it in the first years of this century was a recrudescence of the most virulent forms of U.S. imperial nationalism—an eventuality which, like that of 9/11 itself, appears to have been as unforeseen by experts as it was profoundly consequential for both the U.S. and the world. But the call for a “post-nationalist” critical agenda also now strikes one as curiously beside the point, given the fact that the project of overcoming the self-indulgent insularism that dogged American Studies seems thoroughly ironized by what Immanuel Wallerstein’s eponymous study prophetically described as “the decline of American power.” The cumulative combination of waning consumer confidence, corporate insolvency, rapidly expanding national debt, rising inflation and currency depreciation has demonstrably burst the “bubble” of U.S. global economic hegemony, giving considerable weight to the forecasts of Robert Brenner’s The Boom and the Bubble (2003) a study perhaps not accidentally published in the same year that Wallerstein made his own, seemingly counterfactual, predictions. To put it otherwise, the kind of imperial nationalism the “new American Studies” sought to challenge has proven at once both far more recalcitrant to cultural dismantling than it had appeared to be, and more exposed toward the structural realities of the world system than merely https://doi.org/10.26262/gramma.v16i0.6441 https://doi.org/10.26262/gramma.v16i0.6441 cultural critique could ever hope to demonstrate. The title of Fareed Zakharia’s recent The Post-American World (2008) is in this sense an apt commentary on the historical fate of the preoccupations evidenced in John Carlos Rowe’s earlier Post-Nationalist American Studies (2000): the vision of a “post-nationalist” Americanism is now increasingly offset by a “post- American” reality, one shaped less by the voluntaristic imperative to open the disciplinary domains of U.S. history, culture and literature to the world, than by the brute weight of a particular nation state’s economic decline and the dissipation of its formerly hegemonic status. Wai Chee Dimock and Lawrence Buell’s Shades of the Planet (2007) —subtitled “American Literature as World Literature”—seems to me to reflect a consequent uncertainty as regards the present state and future prospects of the “post-nationalist” wager in literary scholarship. The primary symptom of such uncertainty here is the frequently evasive or unreflectively instrumentalized status of “literature” itself, and further, the lack of a stead-fast exposition of its cognitive and epistemological place vis-a-vis those geopolitical, spatial, and ecological markers the volume’s title incorporates: “American,” “world” and “planet.” For one, Dimock’s introduction to the volume assumes the crisis of the “fiction” of U.S. territorial sovereignty, imaging it in terms not of literary or socio- political history but in those of natural catastrophe, with hurricane Katrina functioning as a means of bringing to the surface the nation’s reduction to an “epiphenomenon,” a “set of erasable lines on the face of the earth” (1). Such a formulation eschews direct engagement not simply with the specificities of literary geography and literary history, but also with the current, socio-historical circumstances of their study: on the one hand, the affective and structural persistence of the nation notwithstanding the ritualized blanket diagnosis of its decline, and on the other, the multiple crises that have laid waste to much of its utopian, promise-based aura in the United States itself (indeed, the impact of hurricane Katrina was one among many recent reminders of the sorry state of infrastructure and welfare investments in the U.S.). Dimock’s striking unwillingness to frame the volume’s agenda in terms compatible with its nominal scope is further evidenced in her foregrounding of the essentially mathematical concepts of set and subset, whose conceptual implications—the provisionality of any strategically chosen “set” of evidentiary analysis, the reversibility of the hierarchy between “sets” and “subsets”—are anatomized both internally and in relation to their refraction in the preoccupations of the essays which comprise the volume. 316 Antonis Balasopoulos The first and last of these—Jonathan Arac’s “Global and Babel: Language and Planet in American Literature” and Dimock’s own “African, Caribbean, American”—are in turn less centered on comparative textual analysis or extensive theoretical excursions into emergent possibilities for literary study than one might have cause to expect. Arac’s essay takes stock of the pressures and challenges which the turn from Europe-centered comparative literature to “world literature” embodies for an American Studies largely shaped by traditional “area studies” models. The author views the practical consequences of such challenges as involving institutional investment in a “new language studies” (Arac’s program is rather unreflectively grounded on the curricular basis of U.S. graduate schools) that would focus on practical, quotidian foreign language skills instead of traditional models of formal language acquisition. Juxtaposing the homogenizing impact of the global to the diversification of “babel,” Arac then proposes a re-excavation of the classics of the American literary canon—Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman, Ralph Ellison—in search of a buried linguistic polyvocality, which in turn is taken to provide fragmentary evidence of the socio-historical interaction between continents, cultures, and peoples in the American contact zone. Intriguing as it appears, the hermeneutic gesture proposed here is simply that—a gesture, no sooner made than replaced with a renewed ethical plea for institutionally nourished multilingualism, including linguistic competence in “either non-Indo-European” or “global South” (34) languages. Things take a similar direction in Dimock’s concluding essay, which undertakes the task of complicating the hyphen in the category of African-American literature by way of an extensive foray into linguistics. Thus, existing linguistic contiguities between African languages and the African-American dialect, the definition of creole and of the process of creolization, the relationship between creole and culturally necessitated bilingualism and the democratic universality implied in Chomskian conceptions of syntactical deep structure are all mined for their implications for the kinship of world cultures. Such kinship, Dimock argues, is “anything but transparent,” taking as it does the form not of “linear descent” but of “arcs, loops, curves”—“complex paths of temporal and spatial displacement” (276). As with Arac’s own essay, literature occupies a quantitatively rather peripheral status, even if Dimock, unlike Arac, does invest the literary with a certain kind of seemingly counterfactual privilege: literary study takes over where linguistics stops, with the entry into the analytical field of affect (rather than cognition) and of “nonverbal” or American Literature for a Post-American Era 317 “preverbal” expressive media (290, 293)—music, dance, rhythm. Dimock is particularly suggestive in discussing some such instances in the zone that extends between U.S. and Caribbean literary engagements with the African diaspora—Paule Marshall’s, Gloria Naylor’s, Derek Walcott’s, Wilson Harris’—but the epistemological consequences of the paradoxical connection of literary study to the non-verbal are rather underdeveloped. At the antipodes of Arac and Dimock’s suggestive but elliptical forays into the significance of the literary in rethinking “America” in terms of “planet” and “world” are Eric J. Sundquist and Ross Posnock’s excursions into the East European entanglements of single U.S. authors, William Styron and Philip Roth respectively. Antithetical as regards their informing assumptions—Sundquist is meticulous in historically grounding and critiquing the assumptions of Styron’s engagement with Polish invasion and Judeocide, while Posnock privileges the freedom, unpredictability and creativity of authorial agency in forging transnational networks of literary affiliation—these two essays share a meticulous attentiveness to textual particularities that comes at the expense of generalizable—that is to say, theoretical—insight. This is the case more emphatically in Sundquist’s essay, which is so attentive to the particularity both of the fate of Polish Jews and of the overheated and slanted nature of Styron’s attempt to translate Polish national tragedy for an American audience that it deprives itself of virtually any potential for comparative usability. Theoretical underdevelopment is also a significant, if more implicit, limitation for Posnock, whose tracing of the “circles” of affective dispensation, aesthetic predilection and ontological worldview, linking Emerson to Vaclav Havel and Milan Kundera and subsequently to Roth, draws heavily upon an unreflectively deployed assumption: namely, that the link between Emersonian individualism, East European literary critiques of abstract rationality, and Roth’s espousal of attentiveness to the irreducible complexities of human (in)experience are somehow free of determinate historical and ideological ballast. Upon closer scrutiny, however, the threads that form Posnock’s transnational literary circuit—individualistic non-conformity, the distaste for organized and collectively orchestrated social reform, and the distrust of ideological abstractions—reveal themselves as anything but ideologically or historically neutral. It is, quite clearly, the “Robespierrian” and “utopian” (148) specter of Soviet communism that both overdetermines the Czech dissidents’ turn to an author like Emerson and guides Roth’s own predication of his own project on Czech dissident preoccupations with the hopelessly tangled, irreducible, and unsolvable qualities of the “human stain,” one that in 318 Antonis Balasopoulos Posnock’s own ideologically symptomatic phrasing, dictates acts of “aggressive disaffiliation from any collective ‘we’ ’’ (160). In contradistinction, the most convincing and successful essays of the volume manage a difficult balancing act, mediating between, on the one hand, a theoretical and historical attentiveness to the constitution of “national” and “global” and, on the other, an engagement with the specifically literary means through which both “nation” and “world” are fleshed out, elaborated upon, and concretized in American literature. The first of these essays, Paul Giles’ “The Deterritorialization of American Literature,” usefully periodizes the nationalization of the very concept of “American Literature” in the span between the end of the Civil War and the global economic crisis of the late seventies. Having shown how cartographical, political and literary discourses contributed to the fashioning of a national imaginary that privileged the diversity, inclusiveness, coherence, and sublime exceptionality of the U.S. territorial state, Giles traces the economic, cultural and political dimensions of the deterritorialization of this imaginary in the period from 1980 onward. To this end, he provides a particularly astute and revealing reading of the ways in which a number of contemporary U.S. authors (William Gibson, John Updike, Leslie Marmon Silko) have attempted to mediate the centrifugal pressures of (primarily economic) deterritorialization. The significance of literary form as a means of mediation—between self and other, between author and reader, between alternately diverging and converging cultures—is the theoretical core of David Palumbo-Liu’s “Atlantic to Pacific: James, Todorov, Blackmur and Intercontinental Form.” In Palumbo-Liu’s thoughtful and reflective argument, “transnational community” cannot be a “‘representation’ derived from the lexicon and assumptions of the nation-state” but can only emerge through the “mediated space of nonrepresentation” (197). The transnational thus becomes an affair not of substantive narrative content as such but rather of the desire to “find a form that allegorizes the near/far dynamics of in-forming planetary thinking” (197). The author turns to the exemplary function of Henry James’ “The Jolly Corner” in broaching the relationship between architectural/spatial and literary form and in hence producing an interface between literary aesthetics and the concern with the transformation of the built environment that resurfaces in a series of national contexts, all marked by a symptomatic attentiveness to James’ import. James’ own oblique meditation of the social and aesthetic impact of the transformation of the built environment of New York during his absence in Europe (a American Literature for a Post-American Era 319 transformation ironically drawing upon Parisian architectural models) resurfaces in Tzvetan Todorov’s own turn to James in the context of elaborating a formalist poetics in the midst of Parisian urban and suburban upheaval and protest in 1968; and then, across the Pacific, in the encounter between Japanese debates on the aesthetics and politics of urban architecture and the Japanese sojourn of New Critic R.P. Blackmur, significantly a scholar both of James himself and of the mediating, intersubjective dimensions of aesthetic form. The third of these essays is also one that remains attentive to the figural significance of space, though, in this case, the unbuilt environment gains an analytical prominence it does not possess in Palumbo-Liu’s study. Buell’s “Ecoglobalist Affects” wisely concedes that “there’s simply no possibility that the nation form … will go away any time soon” (228) and pays a welcome degree of attention to the ways in which ecocriticism has continued to invest “putatively national modes and myths of landscape imagination” with significance (228-29). Indeed, landscape ideology, from “nature’s nation” to suburban “middle landscapes” constitutes a useful way of rethinking U.S. history; by the same token, however, it unveils the “transnational repercussions and/or interdependencies” (230) that shape nominally “national” existence—from the system of price supports that have sustained national ideals of American plenty to “automotive-based transportation networks that make the United States increasingly energy- dependent on foreign suppliers” (230). What Buell terms “ecoglobalist affect” consequently becomes a means of aesthetically encoding existing economic, technological, social and political forms of mediation between the local and the planetary; the essay deftly threads together the partly converging, partly jarring eco-global sensibilities of Wendell Berry, Silko and Karen Tei Yamashita before examining the import of “figures of anticipation” (235) in nineteenth-century landscape painting and early twentieth-century literary depictions of farming [Willa Cather’s O Pioneers! (1913)], and of the admixture of local and global detail in mid- nineteenth century literature [Thoreau’s Walden (1854), Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick (1851)] and science [George Perkins Marsh’s Man and Nature (1864)]. Erudite, insightful and engaging, Buell’s essay, along with those of Palumbo-Liu and Giles, promises the sustainability of transnational American Studies beyond the end of the rhetorical, analytical and political viability of Clinton-era “post-nationalist” sentiment. What one would hope for in the years to come is that American cultural criticism may develop a 320 Antonis Balasopoulos fuller, more comprehensive vocabulary with which to gauge the lineaments of the present—one less schematically prescriptive or programmatic, more attuned to the political and economic complexities that haunt “worlded” knowledge-production, more thoughtful in explicating both the gains and the limitations of literary scholarship as a means of dealing with what is often removed from its increasingly residual domain, and more reflective about the material, spatially and historically mediated grounds on which “America,” “the world” and the “planet” take shape as figures of discourse and vehicles of thought. University of Cyprus Nicosia, Cyprus Works Cited Brenner, Robert. The Boom and the Bubble: The U.S. in the World Economy. New York and London: Verso, 2003. Rowe, John Carlos, ed. Post-Nationalist American Studies. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000. Wallerstein, Immanuel. The Decline of American Power: The U.S. in a Chaotic World. New York: W.W. Norton, 2003. Zakharia, Fareed. The Post-American World. New York: W.W. Norton, 2008. American Literature for a Post-American Era 321 21 
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work_faqqgp46yzdvxljgeygzyxger4	----	Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 Elfe XX-XXI Études de la littérature française des XXe et XXIe siècles   8 | 2019 Extension du domaine de la littérature L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Sara Buekens Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/elfe/1299 DOI : 10.4000/elfe.1299 ISSN : 2262-3450 Éditeur Société d'étude de la littérature de langue française du XXe et du XXIe siècles Référence électronique Sara Buekens, « L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française », Elfe XX-XXI [En ligne], 8 | 2019, mis en ligne le 10 septembre 2019, consulté le 21 décembre 2020. URL : http:// journals.openedition.org/elfe/1299 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/elfe.1299 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 21 décembre 2020. La revue Elfe XX-XXI est mise à disposition selon les termes de la Licence Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/elfe/1299 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Sara Buekens 1 « Tityre, tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi » (« Toi, Tityre, couché sous le vaste feuillage de ce hêtre ») est l’incipit célèbre de la première églogue des Bucoliques de Virgile, dans lesquelles des bergers chantent la beauté de la forêt. Accompagnés par leurs chèvres et leurs moutons, ils y mènent une vie paisible en harmonie avec une nature pastorale souvent associée à l’amour. Lorsqu’aujourd’hui, 2000 ans après les boutades de Mélibée, on aborde la question du monde naturel, c’est surtout pour montrer comment des catastrophes écologiques dégradent notre planète et pour souligner que la défense de la nature fait partie de nos responsabilités envers les générations à venir. Maintenant que le discours environnemental est omniprésent dans les médias, nous observons aussi la place toujours grandissante que les problématiques liées à la nature occupent dans la littérature   des   dernières   décennies.   Un   grand   nombre   de   romans   contemporains mettent en scène des personnages qui sont à la recherche d’une expérience de la nature en solitaire, comme Into the wild de Jon Krakauer (1996) et  Dans les forêts de Sibérie de Sylvain Tesson (2011), dont les adaptations cinématographiques ont connu un grand succès.   Pensons   aussi   à   Continuer  de   Laurent   Mauvignier   et   Le   Grand   Jeu  de   Céline Minard, deux romans parus en 2016 dans lesquels les protagonistes tournent le dos au capitalisme   et   à   la   société   de   consommation   et   choisissent   de   vivre,   fût-ce temporairement,   dans   une   nature   vierge.   D’autres   auteurs   abordent   de   façon   plus explicite les atteintes que le progrès et l’industrialisation portent à l’environnement : c’est le cas pour Alice Ferney, qui, dans Le règne du vivant (2014), se sert d’un discours activiste pour glorifier Paul Watson, un militant écologiste canadien qui lutte contre la chasse aux baleines dans les eaux internationales : J’ai vu la violence de l’homme industriel se jeter sur la richesse des mers, ses mains de fer mettre à mort les plus gros, les plus rapides, les plus formidables prédateurs. J’ai vu les grands chaluts ramasser en aveugle une faune inconnue. J’ai su de quoi les humains sont capables. J’ai redouté ce qu’ils font quand ils se savent invisibles, en haute mer, sur la banquise, dans le face-à-face sans mot avec les bêtes à leur merci.   J’ai   combattu   l’horreur :   les   tueries,   les   mutilations,   les   dépeçages, l’entassement des cadavres. J’ai vu mourir noyées dans leur sang des baleines qui L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 1 criaient comme des femmes. […] Nous leur devions une protection. […] Quel usage faisons-nous du monde ?1  2 Dans L’Homme des haies (2012), Jean-Loup Trassard met en scène un narrateur paysan qui, afin de ne pas perdre le contact physique et la complicité avec le monde naturel, continue à respecter les pratiques agricoles traditionnelles, tandis qu’autour de lui la mécanisation de l’agriculture perturbe profondément la relation entre l’homme et la nature. Le procédé du monologue permet au narrateur Vincent Loiseau de s’adresser directement aux lecteurs, auxquels il exprime souvent son indignation face au déclin du mode de vie paysan traditionnel et qu’il met en garde contre les menaces pour le monde naturel, comme la disparition d’un grand nombre d’espèces animales : Maintenant, de la graine, il n’en est plus fait, il n’y a guère de lièvre non plus ! C’est trop chassé. Les cultures ont changé, le maïs qui est semé de plus en plus n’est pas du tout bon pour le lièvre, il ne se coule point là-dedans !2 C’est là que je voyais des écrevisses, oui, des belles […]. Mais il n’y en a plus, à remonter le ruisseau si j’en trouve une ou deux petites c’est bien tout. […] d’après le journal, j’ai lu ça d’un coup, ce serait les produits qu’on sème, nous, les fermiers, qui s’en vont dans l’eau.3  Certains   modes   de   production   disparaissent   parce   qu’ils   ne   sont   pas   suffisamment rentables, le remembrement agraire des années soixante a fait disparaître les éléments typiques   du   paysage   rural.   Et,   comme   le   montre   le   narrateur,   avec   ces   pratiques agricoles traditionnelles a également disparu l’intimité que le paysan entretenait avec le monde naturel. 3 Dans Naissance d’un pont (2010), Maylis de Kerangal renverse les codes du genre épique pour montrer comment la construction du nouveau pont entraîne la destruction de la forêt   dans   laquelle   des   Indiens   mènent   encore   une   vie   respectueuse   de   la   nature. L’appât   du   gain   des   hommes   d’affaires   qui   dirigent   des   travaux   d’aménagement constitue   un   contraste   criard   avec   le   projet   qui   anime   habituellement   le   héros classique. Dans cette épopée moderne, pleine d’ironie du sort, le sacrifice de la forêt est nécessaire   pour   convertir   la   ville   à   l’éthanol   et   en   faire   « l’avant-garde   des   enjeux écologiques mondiaux.   Coca   ville   verte »4.   Pour   souligner   l’hypocrisie   d’une telle entreprise, qui dans ce cas cache la mégalomanie de l’homme occidental, Kerangal n’hésite pas à décrire en détail la pollution liée aux travaux :  les nuisances inhérentes à de tels travaux – éventrements de perspectives aimées, poussière,   bruit,   pollutions   hétérogènes   [..].   Les   percussions   des   bulldozers fusionnèrent avec les chocs et martèlements naturels de la cité, avec les fumées des moteurs de bagnoles et les rafales de poussière. Un nuage de pollution jaune citron plana bientôt sur la ville.5   Ecocriticism vs. écopoétique 4 On observe donc aujourd’hui, dans un monde où la nature est de plus en plus menacée, un   intérêt   renouvelé   pour   le   monde   concret.   Tous   les   romanciers   que   l’on   vient d’énumérer   affichent   leur   sympathie   pour   ceux   qui   vivent   des   expériences authentiques dans la nature – que les problèmes écologiques risquent de rendre bientôt impossibles.   Cette   génération   d’auteurs   est   revenue   des   jeux   intellectuels   du postmodernisme,   leurs   romans   et   récits   témoignent   d’un   intérêt   pour   la   nature concrète,   voire,   dans   le   cas   d’Alice   Ferney,   d’un   engagement   environnemental. Néanmoins, Le Règne du vivant a pendant longtemps été le seul roman français où le souci de la protection de l’environnement s’exprime de façon militante, contrairement L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 2 à la littérature anglo-saxonne, où le discours littéraire comporte plus fréquemment un engagement écologique explicite. La littérature française tient en général très fort à distance tout militantisme explicite. L’attitude de la France face à l’écologie a toujours été ambiguë, comme le montre Michael Bess, qui dans La France vert clair6 offre un panorama   des   initiatives   et   des   pensées   caractérisant   le   mouvement   écologique français dès les années 1960. 5 Suite à ce tournant récent, l’on voit apparaître dans le monde académique un intérêt toujours grandissant pour cette littérature contemporaine qui nous aide à repenser notre relation à la nature. Depuis 30 ans s’est développée dans le monde anglo-saxon une discipline qui étudie la littérature dans ses rapports avec l’environnement naturel : l’ecocriticism. Or, cette approche théorique permet difficilement d’étudier la spécificité de la littérature française pour plusieurs raisons7 : l’histoire du rapport à la nature est fondamentalement différente en Amérique, l’identité américaine étant indissociable de la wilderness et de ses grands parcs nationaux. Lorsque les théoriciens de l’ecocriticism renvoient à la nature, c’est dans la plupart des cas à une nature sauvage et vierge qu’ils se réfèrent – une réalité inexistante dans le pays essentiellement rural que la France a longtemps été. Si des chercheurs comme Timothy Morton8 questionnent la légitimité du terme « nature », de plus en plus inséparable de « culture », la question ne se pose pas pour les auteurs français. Ainsi, Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio a récemment avoué dans un entretien qu’il regrette le manque d’arbres et de jardins à Paris, contrairement à Aix-en-Provence, où cette « nature »9 est bien toujours présente au sein du milieu urbain. Pour Pierre Gascar, les arbres dans un jardin, même entourés de l’air pollué d’une grande ville, constituent en plein un élément de nature et permettent à l’homme industrialisé de « reconquérir le monde naturel en voie de disparition »10 :  Au progrès de la ville et de l’industrie, à l’effacement de la nature, à la détérioration du paysage, à la réduction des forêts, à la mort des sources, l’homme d’aujourd’hui apporte   un   démenti   […].   Le   jardin   [est]   […]   un   lieu   qui,   réellement,   […]   nie l’extérieur sous son aspect présent et recrée la réalité originelle. […] Il est une œuvre de foi, et le plus modeste des jardiniers fait, à lui seul, exister la nature aussi pleinement, aussi souverainement que le croyant le plus humble fait, à lui seul, exister Dieu.11 Et même si l’expérience de la nature se limite pour les personnages trassardiens au mode de vie paysan, à la campagne et donc à une nature fortement manipulée par l’homme, cet environnement que l’ecocriticism considère comme « artificiel » au lieu de naturel   (car   pas   « vierge »)   n’empêche   pas   l’homme   d’éprouver   une   véritable communion avec les animaux et végétaux et de développer une sensibilité écologique.  6 L’approche   de   l’écocritique   est   donc   fortement   liée   à   l’identité   et   à   l’idéologie américaines et se penche principalement sur la littérature du monde anglo-saxon. Les grands textes de référence, aussi bien des pères fondateurs de la tradition littéraire de la nature writing que des théoriciens de l’ecocriticism, ne sont guère connus en France ni traduits en français. Un des premiers théoriciens, Lawrence Buell, a établi les critères pour   définir   la   littérature   « environnementale »12 :   l’homme   a   une   responsabilité éthique envers l’environnement non humain, qui est conçu comme un processus et une présence   dont   l’histoire   influence   celle   de   l’homme.   On   peut   constater   que   dans l’ecocriticism conçu par Buell, l’écriture environnementale se définit essentiellement selon des critères éthiques et thématiques au détriment des critères esthétiques.  7 Jusqu’à récemment, il n’y avait pas d’équivalent dans les départements de lettres en France, où la littérature est essentiellement étudiée dans son rapport avec la dimension L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 3 sociale ou historique, et où l’on a consacré peu d’attention à la littérature d’inspiration écologique.   Pour   combler   cette   lacune   dans   l’étude   de   la   littérature   française   s’est développée dans le monde académique français et francophone une nouvelle discipline, l’écopoétique,   qui   étudie   la   littérature   française   dans   son   rapport   avec l’environnement. Loin d’adhérer au militantisme de l’écocriticism américaine, le projet de l’écopoétique reste avant tout littéraire et vise à interroger les formes poétiques par lesquelles   les   auteurs   font   parler   le   monde   végétal   et   animal.   Ainsi,   l’approche écopoéticienne permet de rendre visible l’actualité des questions d’écologie dans la littérature   française   en   mettant   moins   l’accent   sur   l’engagement   et   plus   sur   les questions de forme et d’écriture - on sait l’importance que l’université et la critique françaises accordent aux critères stylistiques pour l’évaluation et la canonisation de la littérature.  8 Néanmoins,   il   faut   noter   que   les   deux   disciplines,   aussi   bien   l’ecocriticism  que l’écopoétique, regroupent chacune un continuum d’approches très diverses, prenant en considération   aussi   bien   une   littérature   post-apocalyptique   que   des   réflexions philosophiques   sur   le   rapport   entre   l’oikos  et   les   règnes   animal   et   végétal.   Il   est d’ailleurs   impossible   d’établir   une   distinction   nette   entre   les   formes   françaises   et francophones de l’« écocritique » et l’écopoétique, ces deux approches s’intéressant au même   corpus   et   présentant   des   champs   de   recherche   qui   se   chevauchent   et s’influencent mutuellement13.  9 De plus, des acquis importants de la géocritique et de la géopoétique ont marqué la réflexion en France. La géocritique, avec Westphal comme un des chercheurs les plus importants,   étudie   à   partir   de   représentations   littéraires   et   d’une   approche intertextuelle le rapport entre les espaces réels, vécus et les espaces imaginaires ou imaginés,   ce   qui   permet   d’analyser   dans   quelle   mesure   la   littérature   propose   une nouvelle lecture du monde. Kenneth White, le fondateur de l’International Institute of Geopoetics en 1989, a développé la géopoétique, une approche qui met l’accent sur la façon   dont   l’homme   établit   une   relation   avec   l’espace   à   travers   ses   pensées,   ses émotions et ses expériences sensorielles. Essentiellement interdisciplinaire, son champ de recherches ne se limite pas à la littérature. Les acquis de la géocritique et de la géopoétique sont importants pour l’analyse du rapport, dans la fiction, entre l’homme et la planète. Or, si ces disciplines se penchent sur la carte et le paysage, elles ne prennent guère en considération les menaces qui pèsent sur l’environnement.   Les enjeux éthiques 10 L’écopoétique permet d’étudier la façon dont les auteurs présentent la nature et les problèmes   écologiques   et   comment   les   œuvres   font   apparaître   les   règnes   animal, végétal et minéral. Un vaste corpus de romans et récits font état de la relation souvent perturbée   entre   l’humain   et   le   non-humain   dans   des   environnements   très   variés : naturels, urbains, industriels, apocalyptiques, au niveau régional, national ou global. De nombreux   textes   littéraires   représentent   le   rapport   paradoxal   entre   le   bonheur qu’apporte   la   nature,   souvent   un   lieu   de   détente   pour   l’homme   moderne,   et   les menaces provoquées par le progrès et l’industrialisation. Une des questions qui se pose est de savoir quel type de valeur les auteurs accordent au monde naturel : prennent-ils en   considération   la   nature   pour   elle-même   ou   adhèrent-ils   plutôt   à   une   écologie L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 4 sentimentale ?   Pensons   par   exemple   dans   ce   dernier   cas   à   Julien   Gracq,   dont   la sensibilité environnementale est d’abord esthétique :  De   plus   en   plus   nettement,   avec   la   prolifération   des   résidences   isolées périphériques,   la   notion   de   cité   s’efface   au   profit   de   l’image   d’une   vague densification humaine cancéreuse, qui ensemence loin autour d’elle le tissu naturel de ses métastases et de ses ganglions. Des zones entières maintenant de l’ancienne campagne – et étendues – font songer à un chaos où on aurait brassé et secoué pêle- mêle les éléments urbains et ceux de la verdure circonvoisine, et où le tout serait resté à l’état d’émulsion mal liée, sans qu’aucune décantation, aucune stratification nette paraisse se faire. Mais laissons là ces ruminations écologiques.14 Voilà en quoi consistent pour Gracq les problèmes écologiques : il dénonce la laideur des paysages qui manquent d’uniformité par la coexistence d’éléments culturels, c’est- à-dire urbains ou industriels, et naturels ou campagnards. Les positions de l’auteur s’expliquent   par   sa   formation :   l’appréciation   des   paysages   dépend   du   plaisir   qu’ils offrent à l’œil du géographe. Gracq défend donc les espaces qui sont « beaux » à voir : bien   structurés,   harmonieux   dans   la   forme   et   les   couleurs,   d’un   matériau géologiquement intéressant. Cette position incite certains chercheurs comme Walter Wagner à ranger Gracq parmi les « écologistes romantiques »15. 11 Mais il y a aussi les auteurs qui, conformément à l’éthique de la terre d’Aldo Leopold, refusent une vision purement utilitaire ou esthétique et prennent en considération des éléments naturels « inesthétiques » selon les canons conventionnels de la beauté. Un de ces auteurs est Pierre Gascar, pour qui la disparition de végétaux comme les lichens, le nostoc et les mauvaises herbes, pour insignifiants et inutiles qu’ils soient, est encore plus inquiétante que la mort des fleurs, « car l’existence de ces dernières pouvait nous sembler hypothéquée par leur pouvoir florifère, par leur beauté, qui rendait déplacée, insolite, leur présence au milieu des cultures, alors que ces herbes grossières, solides, insensibles aux excès des saisons, faisaient partie de la natte permanente du sol »16.   Les enjeux esthétiques 12 Outre ces enjeux éthiques, il est intéressant de voir par quelles formes d’écriture les auteurs   décrivent   le   monde   naturel   et   d’examiner   les   fonctions   et   les   effets   des stratégies   rhétoriques   et   des   figures   de   style   dont   les   auteurs   se   servent   pour problématiser l’environnement. Cette approche permet de décrire les choix esthétiques qui accompagnent leurs prises de position écologiques et de voir comment les œuvres de fiction mettent en place une véritable argumentation. Proposant une perspective attentive aux techniques littéraires qui invitent le lecteur à l’adhésion, l’écopoétique met l’accent sur le travail de l’écriture : il s’agit d’analyser par exemple la signification des   métaphores   et   la   façon   dont   celles-ci   ajoutent   un   sens   supplémentaire   aux descriptions du monde naturel ; de voir comment les auteurs expriment le rapport entre l’homme et l’environnement par le biais des procédés d’anthropomorphisme, de personnification   et   de   zoomorphisme.   Très   souvent,   ces   procédés   permettent   de donner une voix au monde aussi bien animal que végétal et d’interroger la place de l’homme dans les écosystèmes : Dans le bâtiment F (Engraissement), le Boiteux regarde mourir son voisin de case. […] Le Boiteux s’est couché en face du mourant, qui a cessé de se tordre de douleur. Il ne crie plus, il pleure. Alors le Boiteux fait ce geste, de lui tenir la tête entre ses pattes avant. Ce n’est pas un geste réservé à l’humanité, il y a toujours un porc qui console les autres au fond d’une salle, il suffit d’attendre pour le surprendre, ce L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 5 geste que font les gens partout où la vie cogne, d’attirer contre soi celui qui a mal, ferme les yeux, pars tranquille, nous sommes tous dans le même couloir.17 Dans ce passage de 180 jours, Isabelle Sorente utilise le procédé de l’anthropomorphisme pour questionner l’abîme général qui sépare les hommes et les animaux, et amène ainsi le lecteur à se demander dans quelle mesure la douleur animale serait plus justifiée que la douleur humaine.  13 Parfois,   l’ironie   permet   à   l’écrivain   de   changer   la   signification   apparente   de   son discours pour dénoncer la situation politique ou économique actuelle ou pour souligner la gravité des problèmes environnementaux. Dans Naissance d’un pont, les noms des héros responsables de la construction du pont renvoient justement aux fondateurs de la   tradition   littéraire   de   la   nature   writing  américaine :   Katherine   Thoreau   et   Ralph Waldo réfèrent respectivement à Henri David Thoreau et Ralph Waldo Emerson. Par ce détour   ironique,   ces   penseurs   transcendantalistes   qui   ont   toujours   milité   pour   une préservation du monde naturel deviennent responsables de la destruction de la forêt indienne. Jouant ainsi avec les conventions de l’épopée, Maylis de Kerangal ridiculise le désir d’expansion des grandes villes et affiche sa sympathie pour ceux qui mènent encore une vie » en harmonie » avec la nature.   L’histoire de la littérature 14 Ci-dessus,   nous   avons   posé   que   la   littérature   contemporaine   présente   un   intérêt renouvelé pour la nature concrète. « Renouvelé », car on ne saurait oublier que les préoccupations écologiques ne datent pas d’hier, et qu’un grand nombre d’auteurs ont contribué à la création d’un discours environnemental littéraire au cours du XXe siècle. Ainsi, l’écopoétique permet de rendre visible l’actualité des questions d’écologie de certains auteurs français – comme Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, Julien Gracq, Pierre Gascar, … – qui ont écrit à un moment où les problèmes environnementaux ne faisaient point   encore   partie   des   préoccupations   quotidiennes.   Certaines   œuvres   sont aujourd’hui encore connues du grand public, comme Les Racines du ciel de Romain Gary, qu’on   présente   toujours   comme   « le   premier   roman   écologique »18  de   la littérature française. Mais on oublie trop souvent que d’autres auteurs, comme Jean-Loup Trassard ou même Nicolas Bouvier, ont également exprimé leur attachement au monde naturel et/ou ont rendu visibles dans leurs romans et récits les problèmes environnementaux de leurs   temps.   Ces   auteurs   n’ont   guère   été   étudiés   dans   cette   perspective,   et maintenant que l’écopoétique propose des outils pour se pencher sur la littérature française dans son rapport avec la nature, l’environnement et l’écologie, un retour sur leur œuvre s’impose.  15 En outre, il existe des auteurs dont l’œuvre est tout à fait tombée dans l’oubli. Gascar fait   partie   de   ces   auteurs   qui   dans   leurs   romans   se   sont   tournés   vers   l’expérience sensible du monde et se sont intéressés aux questions environnementales, à une époque où la critique affectionnait le Nouveau Roman et la Nouvelle Critique. Oublié par les théoriciens de la littérature, ce romancier, journaliste et nouvelliste, s’est pourtant vu décerner un grand nombre de prix littéraires, parmi lesquels le prix Goncourt, qu’il a reçu en 1953 pour Les Bêtes suivi de Le Temps des morts et le grand prix de l’Académie française en 1969. L’écopoétique permet donc de revenir sur des auteurs oubliés ou pas encore étudiés sous cet angle, qui marquent un intérêt particulier pour l’extérieur et s’efforcent de saisir le monde dans toute sa matérialité.  L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 6   L’évolution stylistique 16 L’écopoétique   repère   non   seulement   les   problématiques   spécifiques   auxquelles   la littérature française s’intéresse lorsqu’elle traite des questions de la nature, elle montre aussi les choix esthétiques que cette littérature juge le plus appropriés à un examen des mondes végétal, animal et minéral et à une prise de conscience de la valeur de la nature. Cette perspective aide aussi à expliquer l’évolution stylistique et littéraire de certains   auteurs   français   et   de   voir   dans   quelle   mesure   une   prise   de   conscience grandissante   pour   l’environnement   conduit   ponctuellement   à   des   choix   d’écriture différents.  17 C’est le cas pour Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, qui dans ses premiers romans exprime une critique du mode de vie occidental, mais développe, à partir de son expérience parmi les Indiens, des réflexions sur la place de l’homme dans le système naturel. Selon lui, c’est le contact avec les peuples amérindiens qui lui a fait découvrir, à un moment très précis et repérable dans ses productions littéraires, d’autres façons de vivre en harmonie avec la nature. 18 Ainsi, une lecture écopoéticienne de l’œuvre de Le Clézio est d’autant plus intéressante qu’elle permet de voir comment la prise de conscience écologique naît et évolue chez cet écrivain et comment celle-ci provoque un changement de style radical. Dans ses premiers ouvrages, l’auteur décrit la société de consommation comme un endroit de chaos,   où   la   présence   de   plus   en   plus   dominante   de   la   technologie   déshumanise l’homme occidental (Le Livre des fuites, La Guerre, Les Géants). Les villes sont des « chaos de ciment »19, des endroits apocalyptiques qui « consument […] des siècles d’énergie et de pensée »20. « Nouveau réaliste »21, il s’attache à montrer ce chaos en transcrivant ce qu’il rencontre dans la rue : affiches à demi effacées, bruits de klaxons, graffitis… Non seulement la mise en page, mais aussi l’écriture même, qui se limite souvent à des associations de sons, représente le désordre de la société de consommation et la lutte permanente entre l’homme et son environnement :    Ill. 1 Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, Les Géants, Paris, Gallimard, 1973, p. 93. L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 7 L’« effet de réel » qui en résulte pousse le lecteur à s’interroger sur le rôle des textes, des codes et des signes dans la société et, dans le cas des slogans idéologiques, des affiches et des magazines, à une réflexion sur la puissance et la vulnérabilité du texte écrit. 19 Or, à partir des années 1970, Le Clézio décrit comment, grâce à la rencontre des sociétés amérindiennes, il a découvert d’autres modes de vie, plus respectueux et proches de la nature et a vécu une véritable prise de conscience écologique.  À cette époque, je ne me souciais pas d’écologie, et je ne connaissais presque rien du passé amérindien de l’Amérique […]. C’est la rencontre avec les Emberas, sur le río Tuquesa, qui me donna cette libération. […] Petit à petit [….] je suis parvenu à l’orée d’un monde complètement opposé à tout ce que j’avais connu jusqu’alors. Séjour après séjour (de six à huit mois chaque année durant la saison des pluies, parce qu’à ce moment-là les gens se reposaient et que je pouvais voyager sur les fleuves en crue), j’appris une nouvelle façon de voir, de sentir, de parler.22 20 Loin de se penser maître de son environnement naturel, l’homme amérindien vit selon Le Clézio en contact direct avec la nature. L’énergie n’est plus une source de chaos dans un espace artificiel, mais un système dynamique à travers lequel l’homme amérindien se sent lié aux arbres, plantes, pierres et animaux. Cette position biocentrique, qui n’est pas sans rappeler la « fontaine d’énergie »23 d’Aldo Leopold, incite Le Clézio à adopter une écriture plus lyrique qui représente cette relation harmonieuse entre l’homme et la nature.  21 On peut également repérer dans l’œuvre de Pierre Gascar24 une évolution stylistique qui est liée à une prise de conscience grandissante de la problématique environnementale. Tandis que ses premières romans et récits abondent en métaphores, comparaisons, associations poétiques, références mythologiques et descriptions lyriques exploitant l’anthropomorphisme,   destinées   à   prêter   à   la   nature   un   caractère   fantastique   et   à évoquer l’expérience de guerre de l’auteur, ses dernières œuvres se caractérisent par un   dépouillement   stylistique   fondamental.   Ce   n’est   plus   la   guerre,   mais   le   monde naturel qui est au centre de l’intérêt, et en particulier les dangers auxquels est exposée la   nature :   la   pollution   des   eaux   et   de   l’air,   la   transformation   des   paysages,   la disparition   d’espèces   végétales   et   animales,   la   menace   nucléaire…   Afin   de   rendre compte de cette problématique, Gascar écarte au fur et à mesure tous les procédés esthétisants qui engendrent un effet de déréalisation et intègre de plus en plus de données provenant des sciences naturelles dans ses descriptions des règnes animal et végétal. L’auteur privilégie un style réaliste, entièrement tourné vers le concret, pour rendre   présent   le   monde   naturel   et   pour   problématiser   notre   rapport   à l’environnement.  22 Notons que Gascar pratique ici un procédé littéraire toujours actuel et de plus en plus répandu :   on   observe   dans   les   œuvres   « environnementales »   de   l’extrême contemporain de nombreuses références aux sciences naturelles, qui permettent de décrire   les   problèmes   écologiques   dans   un   discours   largement   accepté   comme incontestable et « objectif », même à l’intérieur d’une œuvre d’art. Ainsi, il est assez frappant qu’Alice Ferney, dans Le Règne du vivant25, aussi bien qu’Aurélien Bellanger, dans L’Aménagement du territoire26, utilisent le terme « anthropocène » pour montrer que les   activités   humaines   ont   actuellement   un   impact   signifiant   sur   l’équilibre   de l’écosystème terrestre. Encore dans L’Aménagement du territoire, un des personnages du roman, Dominique, souligne, comme les géologues, le caractère restreint de la part de la planète habitable pour l’homme et réfère ainsi à la « zone critique », une partie de la L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 8 planète qui s’étend verticalement du sommet de la basse atmosphère jusqu’aux roches stériles dans le sol27. Dans Autour du monde, Laurent Mauvignier cède la parole à un sismologue pour expliquer de façon simplifiée, comme il le ferait dans un manuel de vulgarisation, aux autres personnages, et dès lors au lecteur, comment s’est produite la catastrophe de Fukushima28. 23 Sans vouloir réécrire l’histoire de la littérature française, l’approche écopoéticienne permet donc de voir comment la problématique environnementale peut nous apporter des vues nouvelles sur les mutations caractérisant la littérature entre 1945 et 2015. Étant donné que les manuels et les histoires de la littérature du XXe et du XXIe siècle ont prêté peu d’attention à ce courant de littérature d’imagination ancrée dans le monde concret, l’on peut espérer que l’étude écopoéticienne permettra de donner une place aux enjeux environnementaux dans l’histoire littéraire. NOTES 1. Alice Ferney, Le Règne du vivant, Arles, Actes Sud, 2014, p. 12. 2. Jean-Loup Trassard, L’Homme des haies, Paris, Gallimard, 2012, p. 159.  3. Ibid., p. 220.  4. Maylis de Kerangal, Naissance d’un pont, Paris, Verticales, coll. « Folio », 2010, p. 63.  5. Ibid., p. 133.  6. Michael Bess, La France vert clair. Ecologie et modernité technologique 1960-2000, trad. Chr. Jaquet, Seyssel, Champ Vallon, 2011 [2003].  7.  Voir   à   ce   sujet :   Pierre   Schoentjes,   Ce   qui   a   lieu.   Essai   d’écopoétique,   Marseille,   Éditions Wildproject, 2015, p. 21-24. 8.  Timothy   Morton,   Ecology   without   Nature :   Rethinking   Environmental   Aesthetics,   Cambridge, Harvard University Press, 2007. 9. Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, propos recueillis par Lu Zhang, « Je pense que la littérature doit beaucoup à la terre », Les Cahiers J.M.G. Le Clézio, <Habiter la terre>, 2017, p. 164-165. 10. Pierre Gascar, Les Sources, Paris, Gallimard, 1975, p. 89-90.  11. Ibid., p. 83.  12.  Lawrence Buell, The Environmental Imagination : Thoreau, Nature Writing and the Formation of American Culture, Cambridge/London, Harvard University Press, 1995, p. 7-8, nous résumons.  13.  Pour   une   comparaison   détaillée   entre   l’écocritique   et   l’écopoétique   françaises   et francophones, voir : Rachel Bouvet, Stephanie Posthumus, « Eco- and Geo- Approaches in French and Francophone Literary Studies », in Hubert Zapf, Handbook of Ecocriticism and Cultural Ecology, Hubert Zapf éd., Berlin/Boston, Walter de Gruyter GmbH, 2016, p. 385-412. 14. Julien Gracq, La Forme d’une ville, Paris, José Corti, 1985, p. 126.  15.  Walter   Wagner,   « Ecological   Sensibility   and   the   Experience   of   Nature   in   the   Twentieth- Century French Literature of Jean Giono, Marguerite Yourcenar and Julien Gracq », Ecozon@, 5 (1), 2014, p. 180. 16. Pierre Gascar, Pour le dire avec des fleurs, Paris, Gallimard, 1988, p. 75. 17. Isabelle Sorente, 180 jours, Paris, Grasset, 2013, p. 268.  18. Romain Gary, Les Racines du ciel, Paris, Gallimard, 1980, préface, p. 11. 19. Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, La Guerre, Paris, Gallimard, 1970, p. 285. L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 9 20. Ibid., p. 240. 21.  Pour une analyse plus détaillée, voir Marina Salles, Le Clézio : notre contemporain, Rennes, Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2006. 22. Jean-Marie Gustave Le Clézio, La Fête chantée, Paris, Gallimard, 1997, p. 10-11. 23. Aldo Leopold, Almanach d’un comté des sables, Paris, Aubier Montaigne, 1995, p. 173. 24.  Voir à ce sujet : Pierre Schoentjes, op. cit., p. 212-226 ; Sara Buekens, « Pour que l’écologie supplante   le   nationalisme :   l’esthétique   de   Pierre   Gascar »,   Revue   critique   de   fixxion   française contemporaine, 11, décembre 2015, p. 49-59.  25. Alice Ferney, Le Règne du vivant, op. cit., p. 71. 26. Aurélien Bellanger, L’Aménagement du territoire, Paris, Gallimard, 2014, p. 188-189. 27. « L’homme était un animal de surface. Ni l’exploration minière, ni l’essor du transport aérien, ni la conquête spatiale ou la construction de gratte-ciel ne parvenaient à projeter plus d’un faible pourcentage   de   la   population   humaine   sur   des   orbites   différentes   de   celle   de   son   habitat primitif : une bande de quelques dizaines de mètres autour du niveau moyen des océans — bande que les hommes occupaient comme des solides impénétrables. » Ibid., p. 143. 28. Laurent Mauvignier, Autour du monde, Paris, Minuit, 2014, p. 75-76. RÉSUMÉS La   problématique   environnementale   est   restée   discrète   dans   la   critique   littéraire   française. Pourtant,   au   XXe  siècle   un   grand   nombre   d’écrivains   de   fiction   se   sont   déjà   intéressés   aux problèmes écologiques, comme la pollution, la disparition des espèces et la menace nucléaire. Récemment s’est développée dans le monde francophone une discipline qui étudie la littérature dans ses rapports avec l’environnement naturel, l’écopoétique, qui s’intéresse à la littérature environnementale   écrite   en   français.   Etant   donné   qu’il   s’agit   d’une   approche   formelle, l’écopoétique permettra de voir dans quelle mesure une prise de conscience grandissante pour l’environnement dans la littérature conduit ponctuellement à des choix d’écriture différents et comment la problématique environnementale peut nous apporter des vues nouvelles sur les mutations caractérisant la littérature entre 1945 et 2017. French contemporary literary criticism has left the environmental theme largely unexplored. However,   throughout   the   20th   century,   a   large   number   of   novelists   had   already   espoused ecological   problems   such   as   pollution,   the   disappearance   of   species   and   the   nuclear   threat. Recently   a   discipline   arose   in   the   francophone   world   that   studies   the   relationship   between literature and the natural environment : l’écopoétique. Since this discipline concentrates on the formal analysis of texts, l’écopoétique will contribute in studying to what extent an ever growing environmental awareness can lead to a change in writing methods and how the environmental theme can provide new insights in the mutations that define literature between 1945 and 2017. INDEX Mots-clés : écopoétique, littérature environnementale, écologie, histoire littéraire Keywords : ecopoetics, environmental literature, ecology, literary history L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 10 AUTEUR SARA BUEKENS Détentrice d’un Master en littérature et linguistique français–latin à l’Université de Gand et d’un Master 2 en littérature française à Paris (avec des cours à l’Université Paris IV – Sorbonne, l’EHESS et l’École normale supérieure), Sara Buekens rédige actuellement une thèse de doctorat à l’Université de Gand, sous la direction de Pierre Schoentjes. Elle étudie, à travers les auteurs français majeurs (1945-2016 : Gracq, Gary, Gascar, Trassard, Le Clézio et un choix d’œuvres contemporaines), la problématique environnementale dans une perspective écopoéticienne. Parmi ses publications, on retrouve : « Proximité avec la nature et jeu des genres littéraires :  L’Homme des haies de Jean-Loup Trassard et Naissance d’un pont de Maylis de Kerangal », Études littéraires, 48.3, 2019, p. 21-36 ; « L’usage du monde : une sensibilité environnementale avant la lettre », Roman 20-50, hors série 8, 2018, p. 271-282 ; « Maylis de Kerangal répond aux questions de Sara Buekens », Revue critique de fixxion française contemporaine, 14, 2017, p. 164-169 ; « Pour que l’écologie supplante le nationalisme : l’esthétique de Pierre Gascar », Revue critique de fixxion française contemporaine, 11, 2015, p. 49-59. L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Elfe XX-XXI, 8 | 2019 11 L’écopoétique : une nouvelle approche de la littérature française Ecocriticism vs. écopoétique Les enjeux éthiques Les enjeux esthétiques L’histoire de la littérature L’évolution stylistique 
work_fd6lqt7sxjhttdoeaugu6c7dne	----	IMPLICAÇÕES POLÍTICAS DA SEMÂNTICA FAMILIALISTA NOS DISCURSOS DE AMIZADE CONTEMPORÂNEOS1 Lívia Godinho Nery Gomes* Nelson da Silva Júnior# RESUMO. Historicamente, a semântica da amizade tem sido articulada aos ideais de igualdade e fraternidade, caracterizando- se por uma semântica familialista que associa o amigo à figura do irmão; no entanto alguns autores apontam que a semântica familialista pautada na prerrogativa de intimidade e familiaridade privilegia processos de homogeneização e supressão da alteridade, podendo configurar práticas intolerantes, de desumanização e descriminação do outro. Este artigo pretende descrever e discutir alguns resultados de uma pesquisa que buscou investigar a semântica da amizade nos discursos contemporâneos. A semântica familialista da amizade mostrou-se articulada à fragilidade dos laços e à depreciação das habilidades sociais que o encontro com a alteridade requer. Palavras-chave: amizade, semântica familialista, fragilidade dos laços. POLITICAL IMPLICATIONS OF FAMILIAL SEMANTICS IN CONTEMPORARY FRIENDSHIP DISCOURSES ABSTRACT. Friendship semantics has been historically articulated to the concepts of equality and fraternity. It has been characterized by a familial semantics that associates friends to brothers. However, several authors show that familial semantics, based on intimacy and familiarity, privileges homogenization processes and suppression of otherness. In fact, it may foreground intolerable practices of debasement and discrimination of the other. Current essay describes and discusses results of a research on friendship semantics in contemporary discourses. Friendship’s familial semantics seems to be associated with fragility of bonds and with the depreciation of social skills which an encounter of the other requires. Key words: Friendship, familial semantic, fragility of bonds. IMPLICACIONES POLÍTICAS DE LA SEMÁNTICA FAMILIALISTA EN LOS DISCURSOS DE AMISTAD CONTEMPORÁNEOS RESUMEN. La semántica de la amistad es articulada, históricamente, a los ideales de igualdad-fraternidad, caracterizándose por una semántica familialista que asocia el amigo a la figura del hermano. Sin embargo, algunos autores apuntan que la semántica familialista basada en la prerrogativa de intimidad y familiaridad privilegia procesos de homogeneización y supresión de la alteridad, permitiendo configurar prácticas intolerantes, de deshumanización y despenalización del otro. Este artículo pretende describir y discutir algunos resultados de una investigación que buscó investigar la semántica de la amistad en los discursos contemporáneos. La semántica familialista de la amistad se mostró articulada a la fragilidad de los lazos y a la depreciación de las habilidades sociales que el encuentro con la alteridad requiere. Palabras-clave: Amistad, semántica familialista, fragilidad de los lazos. O modelo e os discursos tradicionais de amizade estão articulados aos ideais de fraternidade, sendo compreendidos em termos familiares. Esta articulação configura uma semântica familialista da amizade, pautada na prerrogativa de intimidade que privilegia processos de homogeneização e supressão das diferenças. Alguns autores atentam para essa associação dos discursos da amizade com os ideais de 1 Apoio: CNPq. * Mestre em Psicologia. Doutoranda em Psicologia Social no Instituto de Psicologia da Universidade de São Paulo-USP. # Professor Livre Docente do Departamento de Psicologia Social e do Trabalho do USP. Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 CORE Metadata, citation and similar papers at core.ac.uk Provided by Biblioteca Digital da Produção Intelectual da Universidade de São Paulo (BDPI/USP) https://core.ac.uk/display/37451932?utm_source=pdf&utm_medium=banner&utm_campaign=pdf-decoration-v1 268 Gomes e Silva Júnior fraternidade/igualdade, alertando que essa estratégia discursiva pode dissimular práticas excludentes e de anulação das diferenças. Essa ligação dos discursos da amizade com processos de homogeneização, que concebe o amigo como outro eu, numa relação de amizade perfeita, apoiada na concordância em que não há conflitos, produz uma anulação da alteridade, podendo se configurar em práticas totalitárias e intolerantes. O presente artigo se propõe analisar esta tradição semântica tendo em vista as suas implicações nas configurações de redes de amizades e o impacto político e alcance desta palavra escolhida (irmão), dentre outras palavras possíveis; ou seja, pretende identificar a política implícita nessa linguagem. O artigo pretende ainda discutir e analisar alguns resultados de uma pesquisa de mestrado que investigou as semânticas da amizade nos discursos contemporâneos e a possibilidade de a amizade se configurar como espaço de experimentação política. SEMÂNTICA FAMILIALISTA DA AMIZADE A concepção contemporânea de amizade associada a intimidade e familiaridade foi herdada dos tradicionais discursos dominantes de amizade, que desde a Grécia Antiga vinculam a semântica de amizade aos ideais de igualdade e fraternidade. O clássico discurso de amizade caracteriza-se por uma semântica que qualifica o vínculo de amizade como vínculo de familiaridade ou parentesco, associando o amigo à figura do irmão. O lar (oikeiotès) encontra-se dentro do locus semântico de philia – que é resumido como “em volta da casa”, privilegiando valores de familiaridade, proximidade, igualdade de gostos e opiniões, afinidade, conveniência, fraternidade. De acordo com Kehl (2000), a igualdade fraternal concebida a partir da figura do irmão implica uma mesma condição política entre os agentes sociais, não havendo espaço para relação de dominação. Kehl (2000) confere à amizade entendida enquanto laços fraternais (amizade como fratria) um espaço de identificações horizontais dotado de poder de contestação e criatividade, configurando-se como lugar de práticas solidárias e de produção de linguagem - portanto, de cultura. As relações de amizade como fratria, como uma analogia às relações entre irmãos, apontadas por essa autora, são entendidas e ressaltadas como relações horizontais, sem hierarquias de poder entre os sujeitos. Estes se encontram na mesma condição política, sendo possível produzir linguagem e ressignificar o simbólico. Nesse sentido, a semântica familialista da amizade que associa o amigo ao irmão também possui uma dimensão de abertura para experimentação, uma vez que o vínculo com o amigo-irmão se estabelece numa relação horizontal – que constitui a condição de igualdade política da amizade –, o que não é considerado pelos autores que criticam a semântica familialista da amizade. A condição de irmandade, a fratria apontada por Kehl (2000), designa o sentimento de solidariedade entre os que se relacionam horizontalmente; os termos “brother” ou “mano” em referência a essa irmandade são comumente utilizados no Brasil por grupos excluídos que buscam unir forças com os que se encontram em igual condição de escassez de oportunidades. Kehl (2000) indica essa relação horizontal e de união da fratria que busca reverter a condição de exclusão ao destacar que o tratamento de “mano” entre os rappers da periferia de São Paulo não é gratuito, indica uma intenção de igualdade. “A designação ‘mano’ faz sentido: eles procuram ampliar a grande fratria dos excluídos, fazendo da ‘consciência’ a arma capaz de virar o jogo da marginalização.” (Kehl, 2000, p. 212). Destarte, para Kehl (2000), a fratria constitui uma relação entre iguais, ressaltando a condição de igualdade política entre os sujeitos e não se caracterizando como vínculo entre sujeitos uniformes, coincidentes entre si tal como nos discursos tradicionais da amizade. No entanto, a autora atenta para os perigos do fanatismo e intolerância advindos de campos identitários. Diferentemente de Kehl (2000), Derrida (1997) propõe uma ruptura do apelo ao irmão nos discursos dominantes de amizade, pelo risco de práticas intolerantes, racistas, etnocêntricas, sucedido da padronização de subjetividades ao associar o amigo com um “outro eu”, configurando uma semântica familialista, em torno do “fechado em si mesmo” (intimidade, conhecido, parentesco, uniformidade nos modos de subjetivação-igualdade de crenças, gostos, opiniões etc.) que não considera a dimensão alteridade. DISCURSO AMIZADE-FRATERNIDADE: UM OLHAR DESNATURALIZANTE Vários autores, entre eles Derrida (1997), Ortega (1999, 2000), têm alertado para os perigos dessa implicação dos discursos tradicionais de amizade com ideais de homogeneidade nos modos de subjetivação, sendo associados a uma política fraternalista. Derrida (1997), ao questionar a figura do irmão no centro dos grandes discursos de amizade, aponta as Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 Semânticas de amizade e implicações políticas 269 conseqüências desastrosas da concepção do amigo como um irmão (como um “outro eu”), implicada com valores semânticos de família que, através de discursos de uma equivalência de subjetividades (sujeitos idênticos), podem se configurar nos piores sintomas de práticas nacionalistas, etnocêntricas ou xenófobas. Derrida (1997) alerta que em nome de fraternidade podem-se excluir as diferenças, em uma lógica violenta que anula a singularidade e reduz o outro ao mesmo, produzindo práticas intolerantes. Suas reflexões se fundam em uma ética de cuidado do outro e se concentram em uma amizade que não pressupõe sujeitos coincidentes, afinidade, intimidade, familiaridade ou relação de parentesco, mas acolhe o outro não como um irmão (lógica narcísica do outro eu e do ideal de amizade perfeita como uma “fusão de almas”), e sim, como o outro em sua alteridade; em uma amizade em que os sujeitos não sejam idênticos entre si, não se confundam nem se misturem tal como um amálgama - portanto uma amizade voltada não para assimilação, absorção ou reciprocidade e, sim, para assimetria. Derrida (1997) questiona a supremacia da lógica do si mesmo e não da diferença, presente na semântica familiar da amizade, que associa o amigo ao irmão, compreendendo o vínculo de amizade como uma relação de simbiose, na qual os amigos se fundem como um amálgama. A própria Kehl (2000), que enfatiza a importância da fratria como grupo de semelhantes capaz de produzir linguagem e ressignificar o simbólico, também atenta para as perigosas conseqüências da não-descoberta da “semelhança na diferença”. “Se a semelhança que une os ‘irmãos’ é afirmada pela exclusão de todo o diferente, a fratria coloca-se fora do laço social e acaba por obter o efeito oposto ao desejado.” (Kehl, 2000, p. 237). Kehl (2000) ressalta que, se a fratria produz campos identificatórios desvinculados do corpo social, se não inclui o semelhante na diferença, há sempre a produção de isolamento entre os grupos, gerando discriminação, podendo a fratria transformar-se em gangue: “A cristalização das fratrias, a tentativa de transformá-las de campo de experimentação em campo de produção de certezas, produzirá fatalmente a segregação e a intolerância, em nome do narcisismo das pequenas diferenças” (Kehl, 2000, p. 45). Ao contestarem o modelo fraternalista de amizade, Derrida (1997) e Ortega (2000) questionam a ideologia universalista de fraternidade, que, em nome de uma suposta uniformidade, produz a exclusão e desumanização do outro e o caráter agressivo/narcisista da supressão da alteridade, imbuído nos discursos tradicionais de amizade. Eles propõem uma ruptura com a tradicional semântica de amizade em torno de proximidade, do habitual, do consenso, da intimidade, da familiaridade, etc., para pensar uma amizade para além das metáforas familiares e fraternalistas; uma amizade aberta para o outro, que não exclua nem suprima a singularidade - portanto, uma amizade não como uma relação essencialmente hedonista de adaptação e assimilação, mas como uma relação agonística, na qual o encontro com o outro implica um movimento de transformação que requer esforço e dor, incorporando a idéia de desigualdade/conflito. A proposta de desconstrução da associação amizade-fraternidade, apresentada por Derrida (1997) e Ortega (1999, 2000) implica uma ruptura com a tradicional semântica da amizade baseada na intimidade, familiaridade, uniformidade, etc., para pensá-la como uma relação intersubjetiva (que não suprime as diferenças) de experimentação cuja potência subversiva e de imprevisibilidade aponta para a constituição de novas formas de subjetivação que priorizem a singularidade, a autonomia. As relações de amizade se expressam de diversas maneiras e possuem diferentes sentidos, articuladas com os diferentes contextos e vicissitudes históricas nos quais se instauram. Visto que os discursos e práticas sociais da amizade não se configuram uniformemente no tempo histórico, este artigo pretende descrever e discutir alguns dos resultados de uma pesquisa que objetivou investigar a semântica dos discursos contemporâneos de amizade e a possibilidade de a relação de amizade se configurar como espaço de experimentação política, como sugerem Arendt (1993), Derrida (1997) e Ortega (1999, 2000). MÉTODO Esta pesquisa foi desenvolvida com trabalhadores de cooperativas populares na Universidade de São Paulo. Os dados provêm da participação no cotidiano de três cooperativas durante o período de um ano, registrada em diário de campo, e da análise das sessões de entrevistas sobre as histórias de amizades dos cooperados. Todas as entrevistas foram gravadas, com prévia autorização dos sujeitos, os quais também assinaram termo de consentimento livre informado que garante a não-identificação pessoal dos sujeitos e da instituição. Todos os sujeitos entrevistados têm mais de 20 anos de idade e moram em bairros periféricos de São Paulo. Na escolha dos interlocutores se optou por trabalhadores de cooperativas, pois o cooperativismo configura uma organização de resistência, que busca Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 270 Gomes e Silva Júnior desnaturalizar o capitalismo e superar seus graves efeitos sociais - como o desemprego, por exemplo -, sendo fundamentada na economia solidária, a qual, de acordo com Singer (2002), pressupõe uma associação em que há igualdade política – condição que a amizade informa, em vez do contrato entre desiguais, em que há competição e dominação política. Além da necessidade de igualação política, segundo Singer (2002), a economia solidária também requer a autogestão, ou seja, pressupõe uma administração democrática, num contexto de cooperação, suscitando um espaço dialogante e de solidariedade – condições em que a amizade emana, configurando uma maneira de produção baseada na ajuda mútua, a qual, muitas vezes, pode surgir a partir da iniciativa e união de amigos contra o desemprego, na luta pela sobrevivência e pela dignidade. Trata-se de uma pesquisa qualitativa, que, ao estudar as semânticas da amizade, utilizou como metodologia de pesquisa a “descrição densa”, caracterizada por uma leitura de narrativas buscando um alargamento do universo do discurso humano, conforme propõe Geertz (1989). RESULTADOS E DISCUSSÃO Amigo-Irmão, Irmão-amigo A tradição da semântica familialista se mantém nos discursos contemporâneos de amizade. O sentido fraternalista da amizade que associa o amigo ao irmão é de grande notoriedade nas narrativas dos sujeitos entrevistados, as quais são permeadas pelas idéias de intimidade e afinidade, além da noção de um ideal de amizade. Semelhantemente a esses discursos filosóficos tradicionais de amizade, nos discursos contemporâneos aqui relatados podemos perceber que o amigo também é entendido em termos de parentesco, associado ao irmão numa semântica familialista pautada nas noções de proximidade, afinidade, intimidade; não obstante, o amigo-irmão, nos atuais discursos, não pressupõe a superposição de identidades, a perfeita e plena “fusão das almas” (Montaigne) dos discursos tradicionais, nos quais o amigo é um “outro eu”, assimilável, havendo uma completa concordância. O amigo-irmão, nos presentes discursos, é aquele com quem se pode conversar confiando e estabelecer uma relação de apoio e acolhimento, e com o qual se pode contar em qualquer situação; ou seja, o amigo considerado irmão possui a qualidade das condições de parentesco - intimidade, proximidade, confiança - além de ser aquele com quem é possível relacionar-se de forma horizontal, condição de igualdade política apontada por Kehl (2000). Nesse sentido, os sujeitos desta pesquisa informam que a articulação amigo-irmão que caracteriza a semântica familialista também é imbuída de uma dimensão de experimentação política, pois o amigo-irmão aparece como aquele com quem se estabelece vínculo de confiança e apoio, numa relação horizontal que possibilita a irrupção de laços solidários e de união de forças – condições que se substancializam em movimentos que buscam romper com a exclusão – tal como apontado por Kehl (2000) ao analisar o tratamento de “mano” entre os rappers da periferia de São Paulo. Destarte, o amigo considerado irmão, ou o melhor amigo, é o mais confiável, é o preferido e reconhecido; mas não pressupõe uma plena identificação de gostos e opiniões, com uma completa equivalência e concordância, como o que se vê nos discursos tradicionais do amigo como outro eu: “[...] aí já se interessa, a gente começa a planejar, começamos a tentar tirar do papel aquilo tudo, entendeu?, e tendo uma amigo do seu lado, um amigo realmente, mesmo assim que você fala “esse daqui é meu amigo, é como irmão”. Acaba se tornando muito mais fácil fazer as coisas dessa maneira” (Gabriel). “Nós confiamos no outro. Se eu falar pra ela eu sei que ela não fala pra ninguém, entendeu? Ela mexe nas minhas coisas, eu vou na casa dela eu mexo nas coisas dela; meu computador ela sabe a senha do meu arquivo, tipo, minhas coisas, mexe, minha agenda, que ninguém mexe, a estante, minhas coisas lá, só ela que mexe” (Mateus). “Ah, no sentido de está sempre próximo, entendeu? No sentido de está ali dando uma força, de estar ali tentando fazer você enxergar que algumas coisas estão errada, que você também está errando, entendeu?; mas assim, tudo isso com carinho, tudo isso com respeito, entendeu? Tudo isso sem violência, assim sem agressão de palavras, essas coisas” (Girassol). Em outras palavras, o amigo-irmão está relacionado às qualidades familiares de intimidade, proximidade, convivência, e não à completa equivalência e identificação entre as partes. Rezende (2002) também ressalta que os discursos contemporâneos sobre a amizade são fortemente Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 Semânticas de amizade e implicações políticas 271 marcados pela utilização de termos de parentesco. Segundo a autora, “os amigos que se mostravam mais presentes e mais confiáveis eram tidos como “irmãos””: [...] um amigo considerado “irmão” teria as qualidades ideais dessa relação de parentesco: seria confiável e daria apoio em qualquer dificuldade. Além disso, o amigo guardaria em comum com o irmão a simetria e igualdade de posição, ao contrário da relação assimétrica e hierárquica entre pais e filhos. Assim, ser tido “como irmão” era o maior reconhecimento que um amigo podia ter, como se tal relação excluísse a possibilidade de quebra de confiança e falta de apoio (Rezende, 2002, p. 115). É interessante ressaltar que, além de o amigo aparecer como irmão, também se observou em alguns discursos o movimento inverso, a consideração de alguns parentes como amigos. Este fato denota que a amizade extrapola as qualidades familiares por aquilo que ela em si mesma informa: possibilidade de conversa, diálogo sincero, confiante, como relação de respeito, solidariedade e apoio. Nesse sentido, seria a postura de determinado parente, sua disposição e abertura para uma relação dialogante, que o tornaria um amigo, podendo-se considerar um pai amigo, uma mãe amiga ou um dentre vários irmãos como amigo, como é o caso de Girassol. Ao falar da sua irmã, destaca que ela também é sua amiga, pois sempre teve muita consideração e acreditou nela desde o início da cooperativa, dando apoio, ao contrário do seu irmão. É também importante destacar que, ao relatarem essa inversão, os informantes da pesquisa revelam o uso polissêmico da palavra amizade, que ora é destacada e privilegiada pela dimensão de familiaridade e intimidade - denotando, portanto, que o amigo tem a qualidade de irmão -, ora aparece desarticulada desse imperativo familiar, já que um irmão pode ser considerado amigo e outro, não. Esse outro sentido da amizade não enfatiza a familiaridade, mas sim, a disposição e abertura para estabelecer uma relação de conversa, de apoio e acolhimento. “Ah, tem a Violeta também, eu não posso esquecer de falar da minha irmã. Violeta é minha parceira. A gente já brigou muito aqui no trabalho, a gente já teve muitas divergências, entendeu?, mas brigas assim de trabalho, nada assim pessoal, [...] coisas que não ficou mágoa nada, também porque ela é muito amiga minha, [...] E a Violeta foi uma revelação, porque ela me mostrou assim muita consideração, sabe, muita amizade, muito respeito pelas pessoas; é uma pessoa batalhadora, é uma pessoa que luta, é uma pessoa que está disposta, [...] é uma pessoa também aqui desde o começo acreditou em mim. Quando surgiu a cooperativa eu falava sobre a cooperativa com as pessoas, as pessoas achavam que não ia dar certo, muitos preferiam nem estar aqui comigo aqui hoje de mãos dadas, porque achava que não ia dar certo, que precisava de um trabalho assim pra já, entendeu?, e ela não, ela foi uma pessoa que acreditou, porque eu não só convidei ela como também convidei um irmão meu também, ele também não acreditou, achando que não; mas ela veio, entendeu?, ela apostou desde o início quando eu falei ela falou “eu estou com você”, e a gente vai ficar junto pra que der e vier, e a gente está aí [...]” (Girassol). “Poderia ser qualquer pessoa que você confie. Eu tenho a minha mãe, qualquer assunto que eu queira falar eu falo com a minha mãe, não importa que seja, ela é uma amiga, além de mãe, amiga, e ela a mesma coisa, vice-versa, eu e ela, [...]” (Gabriel) Percebe-se, nos discursos que a amizade, além dos atributos familiares, representa qualidades que lhe são próprias, algo que informa a sua própria condição. A relação de conversa é sempre destacada como essência da amizade, é sempre abordada como sua qualidade inerente. A mãe amiga é aquela com quem se pode conversar sobre qualquer assunto, com a qual é possível estabelecer um espaço de conversa, de acolhida, de apoio. Amigo é sempre a pessoa com quem se pode conversar abertamente, com quem se pode contar em qualquer situação, ou seja, estabelecer uma relação de conversa na qual a possibilidade de confiar e compartilhar aparece como condição básica da amizade, mais do que a necessidade de afinidades e concordância, a “fusão das almas” dos discursos tradicionais. A afinidade, a qualidade do que é familiar, íntimo, aparece nos discursos; não obstante, o respeito pelas diferenças também é bastante ressaltado: os sujeitos apontam que a amizade pressupõe elementos em comum, mas há lugar para as diferenças. A identificação entre os sujeitos amigos, tão privilegiada nos discursos tradicionais de amizade, não parece ser necessariamente requisito para que exista amizade, podendo haver espaço para as diferenças. “Amizade por afinidades é você ter alguma coisa que o identifica com a outra pessoa, Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 272 Gomes e Silva Júnior mas isso não quer dizer que a outra pessoa seja parecida com você, porque normalmente as diferenças que se completam. É claro que assim, um ser pra chamar outro normalmente são as coisas mais parecidas. Tem alguma coisa que você olha ou que você vê ou que você sente que você gosta o que você tem em comum, isso que eu chamo de afinidade; mas normalmente, na minha opinião, acho que as diferenças se completam, mesmo porque se duas pessoas forem iguais é ridículo assim, porque é chato, porque você vai saber tudo que a pessoa pensa, tudo que a pessoa quer, tudo que a pessoa acha, tudo que a pessoa pensa, [...] é como se você tivesse você e você mesma, como se fosse seu reflexo no espelho. Assim, tem que ter algumas coisas semelhantes, é claro, pra poder ter essa afinidade que eu disse, mas tem que ter suas diferenças” (Margarida). “Posso conviver com uma pessoa que pensa totalmente diferente de mim, entendeu, tipo, que eu sou de uma religião posso ter amigo de outra religião, porque eu gosto de roque eu posso ter amigo pagodeiro, eu posso não compartilhar com o que ele faz, eu posso até ter amigo que usa droga, mas não usar droga [...]” (Mateus) Diferenças que fazem a diferença A noção de que as idéias devem coincidir (a idéia dele bate com a minha) e de que existe afinidade e que coisas em comum são compartilhadas aparece como elemento constitutivo da amizade. Não obstante, uma demasiada identificação entre amigos parece caracterizar a relação como “sem graça”, uma vez que, nos discursos, o respeito pelas diferenças é bastante enfatizado e as diferenças de opiniões e de gostos são destacadas de maneira positiva, como possibilidades de estabelecer trocas, configurando um espaço de aprendizagens. Percebemos nos discursos que as diferenças na relação de amizade instauram não somente o respeito, mas também a possibilidade de conflitos e antagonismos, o que permite aquela tensão necessária para o crescimento e deslocamento que o contato com alteridade requer – condição apontada por Derrida (1997, 2003), Arendt (1993) e outros. O vínculo de amizade não configura, portanto, uma relação tranqüila, perfeita, de completa identificação e consenso, como nos discursos tradicionais de amizade. Weil (1996) alertou: “é preciso que as diferenças não diminuam amizade e que a amizade não diminua as diferenças.” (p. 62). Os discursos mostram que as relações de amizade não são vividas como um paraíso hedonista, mas como espaço tenso onde é possível haver diferenças, discordâncias, conflitos, discussões, brigas, etc. “Isso acontece sempre, você tem uma idéia sobre determinado assunto e a pessoa tem outra, aqui mesmo no trabalho. O Mateus é petista, filiado ao PT, eu não sou filiado a partido nenhum, então de vez em quando a gente acaba falando sobre política e acaba tendo aquela discussãozinha, aquela desavença; mas também um olha pra cara do outro ah, vai tomar café, entendeu?” [...] (Gabriel) “Ah, sim, lógico, porque é até engraçado isso, porque as pessoas não são exatamente como a gente quer, as pessoas têm seu caráter, sua formação, a gente tem que saber respeitar isso também. Tem coisa que dá pra você mudar, uma crítica, você fala “oh, fulano, eu não achei legal isso”, a pessoa muda; mas tem coisas que não. Também nem seria legal, também” (Girassol). “[...]amigo é aquela coisa que você já com a sua consciência, com seu gostar, com seu raciocínio, com esse ser que você já é formado e você escolhe, escolhe pra brigar, pra discutir, pra conversar, sabe, pra dialogar, [...]” (Margarida). Como vimos, afinidades e diferenças aparecem nos discursos como atributos da amizade, como na frase do filósofo norte-americano Ralph Waldo Emerson destacada na matéria sobre a ciência da amizade do jornal Folha de São Paulo (Colognese Júnior, 2004): “a amizade requer aquele raro ponto médio entre semelhança e diferença”. Nesse artigo de jornal, o psicanalista Colognese Júnior (2004) acredita que a amizade duradoura e produtiva não acontece com pessoas muito parecidas entre si. Ainda que não se conheça por completo a química da amizade, pode-se notar, nos discursos, essa ambigüidade entre ter coisas em comum e ter também diferenças. Não obstante, é preciso frisar que, embora os discursos tenham revelado a possibilidade de diferenças na relação de amizade, diferentemente da lógica de “fusão das almas”, do amigo como “outro eu”, presente nos discursos tradicionais de amizade, os relatos aqui referidos ainda se encontram atrelados à semântica familiar que Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 Semânticas de amizade e implicações políticas 273 caracteriza os discursos tradicionais de amizade. São as condições familiares de proximidade, intimidade e convivência que caracterizam a semântica da amizade. O amigo aparece sempre como alguém íntimo, próximo, muitas vezes associado à figura do irmão; mais do que a necessidade de afinidades e identificação, a amizade requer um espaço de conversa - sempre destacado como espaço seguro, de intimidade, no qual se compartilham assuntos íntimos, particulares guardados em segredo pelo(a) amigo(a). Essa estreita associação de amizade com proximidade e intimidade dificulta a experimentação da relação de amizade da qual nos falam Arendt (1993), Derrida (1997) e outros autores: a relação que não depende de intimidade e na qual, na escuta e acolhida do outro (não-familiar), é possível vivenciar a irrupção do imprevisto. Perde-se a experiência da emoção, quase sempre sentida, de uma indefinível inquietude ao entrarmos num lugar desconhecido a que se referem Derrida e Dufourmantelle (2003). “Convivência afastada” Esta semântica que traduz o amigo como íntimo circunscreve a amizade a um universo familiar, conhecido, habitual. As amizades dos sujeitos entrevistados eram sempre com pessoas que compartilhavam espaços em comum, os(as) amigos(as) relatados(as) eram sempre do mesmo bairro, da vizinhança, da mesma escola, do mesmo local de trabalho, possuindo o mesmo nível socioeconômico. Portanto, essa articulação de amizade com intimidade e proximidade acaba privilegiando as afinidades, e não as diferenças; ou seja, é o que existe em comum, a semelhança, a afinidade que se tornam imperativos, remetendo a uma lógica individualista. Rezende (2002) ao estudar contemporaneamente os significados da amizade, também ressalta que nos discursos a amizade emerge fortemente marcada por essa noção de “amizade íntima”, sendo as relações estabelecidas entre amigos que convivem em espaços comuns, e em geral, possuem situação socioeconômica semelhante. Não é novidade que vivemos em um país de exorbitante estratificação social, no qual há uma extrema discrepância entre as classes sociais, sendo classificado entre os países com maiores desigualdades sociais. As relações de amizade estabelecidas, como vimos, no ambiente comum, familiar, reproduzem essa lógica estratificada das classes sociais, pois os amigos relatados são sempre da mesma situação socioeconômica. Ao conversar com Pedro, ele relata em entrevista essa dificuldade de amizade entre pessoas de classes sociais diferentes. Pedro mora num bairro periférico da Zona Oeste de São Paulo e conta com bastante pesar que a imagem do pobre encontra-se “destruída”, segundo ele, porque existe uma generalização do que acontece na periferia, ficando a “convivência afastada”. “[...] se você tiver uma amizade assim , o cara que é bem-sucedido da vida e um cara que tem um baixo nível assim, é pobre e tal, e você ser amigo de umas pessoas dessas assim, fica muito difícil; mas, eu acredito assim, que tem amizades assim, mas é meio diferente. [...] a gente vê muitos casos hoje em dia que é assim, a sociedade pobre está muito... a imagem está muito destruída por causa do que acontece na periferia, do que acontece com as pessoas pobres. O erro que elas fazem, é, generaliza todo mundo, todo mundo que mora. A classe média muito baixa, então, é que nem eu te falei, a convivência fica afastada, é raro você ver essas amizades hoje em dia, [...]” (Pedro). As relações de amizade circunscritas em território comum, familiar, e a ênfase discursiva na afinidade e proximidade, lançam luz sobre a maneira como esta semântica da amizade reforça a hierarquia/estratificação social, além de estarem estritamente articuladas com a indelével característica da sociabilidade contemporânea de pavor do contato com estranhos e a subseqüente depreciação das habilidades necessárias para viver com a diferença. Ao comentar esse ímpeto pela “mesmidade”, buscando a segurança contra os riscos que o contato com alteridade inspira, Bauman (2004) afirma: O impulso na direção de uma “comunidade de semelhança” é um signo de recuo não apenas em relação à alteridade externa, mas também ao compromisso com a interação interna, ao mesmo tempo intensa e turbulenta, revigorante e embaraçosa. A atração de uma ‘comunidade da mesmidade’ é a de segurança contra os riscos de que está repleta a vida cotidiana num mundo polifônico. Ela não reduz os riscos, muito menos os afasta. Como qualquer paliativo, promete apenas um abrigo em relação a alguns dos efeitos mais imediatos e temidos desses riscos (Bauman, 2004, p. 134). Segundo Bauman (2001), a decomposição do espaço público, terreno natural do político, configura- se por uma decadência do diálogo e da arte de negociar interesses comuns, gerando uma patologia da política fundada na fluidez/fragilidade dos laços Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 274 Gomes e Silva Júnior humanos que substitui o compromisso mútuo e a comunicação pelo distanciamento do outro, do diferente, do estranho, evitando-se a necessidade de contato e negociação. Essa técnica do desvio, do “não fale com estranhos”, é apontada por Bauman (2001) como marca da precarização política contemporânea e do enfraquecimento dos laços e parcerias, que “tendem a ser vistos e tratados como coisas destinadas a serem consumidas, e não produzidas” (Bauman, 2001, p. 187). As relações de amizade nesse cenário contemporâneo de debilitação política e de espaço público esvaziado de sentido ainda permanecem articuladas à prerrogativa de familiaridade e intimidade, constituindo-se em espaços públicos, mas não civis, como nos lembra Bauman (2001), como os shoppings centers, cafés, clubes, etc., que se caracterizam pela dispensabilidade de interação, pois são essencialmente espaços de consumo (atividade irremediavelmente solitária), que projetam o sentimento de segurança e conforto da casa/família, num contexto onde o espaço público é visto como extremamente ameaçador. Pode-se dizer que as relações de amizade no atual contexto de individualismo, em que as relações com os outros (em sua diferença/estranheza) são sentidas com medo e desconfiança, tornam-se espaços destituídos de experimentação do não-familiar, constituindo-se como a essência do que Sennet (1988) chama de “celebração do gueto”. Configurando-se nessa lógica de “celebração do gueto”, as relações de amizade perdem a beleza da experiência política, apontada por Arendt (1993), de alargamento de opiniões no encontro com o outro, na qual é possível viver o sentimento inquietante e desestabilizador do questionamento de crenças e opiniões familiares, num movimento de “descolamento” do familiar que permite um deslocamento para ver o mundo no lugar dos outros. Segundo Sennett (1988), a “celebração do gueto” visa tornar a experiência humana íntima e local, sobrepujando o desconhecido, apagando as diferenças: Aquilo que precisamente se perde com essa celebração é a idéia de que as pessoas só podem crescer através de processos de encontro com o desconhecido. Coisas e pessoas que são estranhas podem perturbar idéias familiares e verdades estabelecidas; o terreno não familiar tem uma função positiva na vida de um ser humano. Essa função é a de acostumar o ser humano a correr riscos. O amor pelo gueto, especialmente o gueto de classe média, tira da pessoa a chance de enriquecer as suas percepções, a sua experiência, e de aprender a mais valiosa de todas as lições humanas: a habilidade para colocar em questão as condições já estabelecidas de sua vida (Sennett, 1988, p. 359-360). A amizade, enquanto espaço imprevisto de experimentação como é apontada por Arendt (1993), Derrida (1997) e Ortega (1999, 2000), traz à tona a discussão da possibilidade de repensar e reinventar as formas de relacionamento e subjetividade num contexto contemporâneo de forte individualismo e fragilidade dos laços públicos, no qual a vida pública encontra-se destituída de sentido e as relações de amizade configuram-se numa condição de liquefação associada ao movimento de desintegração dos laços humanos. A revitalização da vida política que a amizade instaura representa um convite à alteridade, à consideração dos outros (estranhos); convida-nos a olhar para a cidade com motivações não particulares; convida-nos a olhar o mundo a partir daquele que não é de casa. REFERÊNCIAS Arendt, H. (1993,). A dignidade da política: ensaios e conferências (H. Martins, Trad., 3a ed.). Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumará. Bauman, Z. (2001). Modernidade líquida (P. Dentzien, Trad.). Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar. Bauman, Z. (2004). Amor líquido: sobre a fragilidade dos laços humanos (C. A. Medeiros, Trad.). Rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar. Colognese Júnior, A. (2004, 12 de fevereiro). A amizade que acaba é porque nunca começou. Folha de São Paulo: Folha Equilíbrio, p. 6-8. Derrida, J. (1997). Politics of friendshi. (G. Collins, Trad.). New York: Verso. Derrida, J. & Dufourmantelle, A. (2003). Anne Dufourmantelle convida Jaques Derrida a falar da hospitalidade (A. Romane, Trad.). São Paulo: Escuta. Geertz, C. (1989). A interpretação das culturas. Rio de Janeiro: Livros Técnicos e Científicos. Kehl, M. R. (2000). Existe a função fraterna? Em M. R. Kehl (Org.), Função fraterna (pp. 31-47). Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumará. Kehl, M. R. (2000). A fratria órfã. Em M. R. Kehl (Org.), Função fraterna (pp. 209-244). Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumará. Ortega, F. (1999). Amizade e estética da existência em Foucault. Rio de Janeiro: Edições Graal. Ortega, F. (2000). Para uma política da amizade: Arendt, Derrida, Foucault. Rio de Janeiro: Relume Dumará. Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 Semânticas de amizade e implicações políticas 275 Rezende, B. C. (2002). Os significados da amizade: duas visões de pessoa e sociedade. Rio de Janeiro: FGV. Sennett, R. (1988). O declínio do homem público: as tiranias da intimidade (L. A. Watanabe, Trad.). São Paulo: Companhia das Letras. Singer, P. (2002). Introdução à economia solidária. São Paulo: Fundação Perseu Abramo. Weil, S. (1996,). A condição operária e outros estudos sobre a opressão (T. G. G. Langlada, Trad., 2a ed.) Rio de Janeiro: Paz e Terra. Recebido em 24/08/2006 Aceito em 16/06/2007 Endereço para correspondência: Lívia Godinho Nery Gomes. Alameda Ministro Rocha Azevedo, 373, ap. 71B, Cerqueira César, CEP 014090001, São Paulo-SP. E-mail: liviagng@ig.com.br Psicologia em Estudo, Maringá, v. 13, n. 2, p. 267-275, abr./jun. 2008 Recebido em 24/08/2006 Aceito em 16/06/2007 
work_fegmy722cvbg5eqdyv3exod7pq	----	Emerson the Lecturer in California | California History | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 20, Issue 1 March 1941 This article was originally published in California Historical Society Quarterly   Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| March 01 1941 Emerson the Lecturer in California William Hawley Davis William Hawley Davis Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar California Historical Society Quarterly (1941) 20 (1): 1–11. https://doi.org/10.2307/25160919 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation William Hawley Davis; Emerson the Lecturer in California. California Historical Society Quarterly 1 March 1941; 20 (1): 1–11. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/25160919 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search This content is only available via PDF. Copyright 1941 The California Historical Society Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content. Sign in Don't already have an account? Register Client Account You could not be signed in. Please check your email address / username and password and try again. Email address / Username ? Password Sign In Reset password Register Sign in via your Institution Sign in via your Institution Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Mexican American Parrhesia at Troy: The Rise of the Chicana/o Movement at the University of Southern California, 1967–1974 Breaking the Eleventh Commandment: Pete McCloskey’s Campaign against the Vietnam War Fishing on Porpoise: The Origins of Dolphin Bycatch in the American Yellowfin Tuna Industry Keepers of the Culture at 3201 Adeline Street: Locating Black Power Theater in Berkeley, California Suburban Cowboy: Country Music, Punk, and the Struggle over Space in Orange County, 1978–1981 Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Online ISSN 2327-1485 Print ISSN 0162-2897 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
work_fi4rcev5tbcd7fmxijb4cagury	----	From NASCAR Condominiums To Private Mausoleums: Keeping The Vacation Home In The Family (With Sample Tenancy In Common Agreement) Wendy S. Goffe Wendy S. Goffe is a shareholder with the law firm of Graham & Dunn PC, Seattle, Washington. She is a Fellow of the American College of Trust and Estate Counsel. She has a comprehensive estate planning practice that involves all aspects of estate planning for high net worth individuals and families, advising both individuals and charitable organizations concerning planned giving, probate, and trust administration. © 2007 University of Miami School of Law. This article was initially prepared for the 41st Annual Heckerling Institute on Estate Planning, published by LexisNexis Matthew Bender. It is reprinted with the permission of the publisher, the Heckerling Institute and the University of Miami. A. Introduction 1. Some family homes serve as a magnet that pulls the family together. Others become the family bat- tleground, literally and figuratively. Stories of family arguments over ownership of a vacation home abound. Yet, families continue to desire and invest in these properties. 2. A number of things can motivate the initial purchase of a recreational cabin. These include: a. The desire to create a sense of family, cultural identity, or other affinity. Vacation communities are of- ten defined by race, religion, or other commonalities, including sexual orientation or even a passion for NASCAR racing. People gravitate toward these communities to vacation with others who share similar values or lifestyles. b. The opportunity to conspicuously display wealth. The grand homes of Newport, Rhode Island are early examples of this motivation. c. The opportunity to teach children to appreciate the benefits of nature. The Transcendentalist writers, including Henry David Thoreau, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Walt Whitman, first documented their ex- periences in nature and their philosophy that a personal spiritual transformation could take place by getting away from the city to a restorative environment in the 19th century. In 1854, Henry David Tho- reau recorded the experience of his retreat to Walden Pond in “Walden.” Art Buchwald said about his own summer home on Martha’s Vineyard, “I think for most people summer houses have more mean- ing than homes in winter, because all the memories, usually, of a summer place are happy ones. When you’re in the city, you’re just in the city, but here I have been happy.” Joyce Wadler, At Home With Art Buchwald: A Defiant Jester, Laughing Best, The New York Times (July 27, 2006). d. The wish to get away from any reminders of routine daily living. The following quote from the New York Times encapsulates the desire to “get away from it all”: Forget the Tuscan villa, the chateau in Provence and the pied-a-terre in Paris. They’re so cliché, not to mention over- priced. Savvy second-home hunters are packing their passports, pouring through foreign classified ads and snapping up homes in far-flung countries from Argentina and Bulgaria to Nicaragua and Turkey. Even though these places may lack the glamour of Cannes and are sometimes harder to get to than Timbuktu, they are picturesque, not overrun by Americans and, in some cases, even fashionable. Best of all, there are still bargains to be found. Denny Lee, A Second Home in Bulgaria?, New York Times, Oct. 28, 2005. 3. The sociological component of second home ownership is fascinating and important to a thorough understanding of the related underlying issues that arise in families, but it is a subject beyond the scope of this outline. (For an analysis of the sociological component, see Ken Huggins, Essay— Passing It On: The Inheritance, Ownership and Use of Summer Houses, 5 Marquette Elder’s Advisor 85 (Fall 2003); Judith Huggins Balfe, Passing It On: The Inheritance and Use of Summer Houses (Pocomo Press 1999); and Judith Huggins Balfe, Passing it On: The Inheritance of Summer Houses and Cultural Identity, 26 The American Sociologist 29 (Winter 1995).) This outline will focus mainly on the equally important legal component of how families succeed in passing on ownership of a cabin from one generation to the next, with an emphasis on charitable planning, followed by a brief discus- sion of some unusual transfer issues—cabins on public land and cabins in British Columbia. The more daunting task of ongoing management is also discussed below. 4. Few families successfully transfer ownership of a cabin or vacation property by accident. Families that do accomplish this Herculean feat do so only with a great deal of advanced multi-generational planning, often with mechanisms to adjust the plan as circumstances and needs change. In this arti- cle, the term “cabin” is used collectively to refer to vacation properties of all shapes, sizes, styles, and fair market values. 5. Cabins are frequently located in desirable areas where property values have appreciated at a rate far beyond a family’s other assets. Often, a cabin may represent a large percentage of a family’s finan- cial holdings, posing complex estate tax and liquidity issues for the senior generation. For the junior generation, keeping a cabin in the family can create financial burdens. It can also bring the challenge of reaching a consensus among family members as to how to deal with this property, whether they want the property or not. 6. The legal mechanism for transferring the property is only the first of many challenges. Following the transfer, the next generation must determine how to maintain the property; how to pay taxes, insur- ance, and maintenance; and how to divide use of the property among the family members. The trans- fer itself is relatively easy compared to maintaining harmony among the owners following the transfer. B. Creating A Master Plan 1. Before a plan to transfer the family cabin can be implemented, it is helpful if the family can reach a consensus, in the form of a master plan, as to how that transfer will take place. (See James S. Sligar, Estate Planning for Major Family Real Estate Holdings, 133 Trusts & Estates 48 (Dec. 1994) (“Sligar, Major Family Real Estate Holdings”) for a comprehensive discussion of master plans; Stephen J. Small, Preserving Family Lands, Book I: Essential Tax Strategies for the Landowner (Landowner Planning Center 3d ed. 1998); Stephen J. Small, Preserving Family Lands, Book II: More Planning Strategies for the Future (Landowner Planning Center 1997); and Stephen J. Small, Preserving Fam- ily Lands, Book III: New Tax Rules and Strategies and a Checklist (Landowner Planning Center 2002).) The most successful transitions involve detailed and thoughtful advanced planning developed jointly by the senior and junior generations. The use of a mediator or other trained neutral third party can be invaluable in developing a master plan. (See Olivia Boyce-Abel, When to Use Facilitation or Mediation in Estate and Wealth Transfer Planning, Family Office Exchange, Vol. 9 No. 35 (1998), and Robert Solomon, Helping Clients Deal With Some of the Emotional and Psychological Issues of Es- tate Planning, 18 Probate & Property 56 (March/April 2004) (“Solomon, Helping Clients”) for discus- sions concerning the role of a facilitator.) a. A good facilitator can significantly increase the possibility of a successful outcome. Solomon, Helping Clients, supra, at 58. Family conflict is inevitable; a good facilitator can help families deal with conflict productively to mediate a mutually satisfactory resolution. Often, the presence of a mediator can pro- vide objectivity and bring family members closer to a consensus when emotions might otherwise take center stage and derail the process. b. Once the family members are informed of the various options (which may include setting aside por- tions for conservation purposes, selling portions to raise capital to support the remaining property, and transferring portions to succeeding generations), the first step in creating a master plan is to have the facilitator interview each family member. c. The interview process is an opportunity for each family member to freely express his or her wishes and apprehensions with respect to the property. Not all family members have to participate in the interview process, but all should be given the opportunity. A trained non-family member serving in an intermedi- ary capacity ideally allows the family members to focus on common interests rather than their differ- ences. To do this successfully, the participants need to feel confident that the mediator is not aligned with the interests of any of the family participants or the estate planning attorney. Id. d. Having met with as many family members as are willing to participate, the neutral third-party would prepare a report summarizing the findings, identifying areas of consensus, if any, and pointing out ar- eas where feelings and opinions diverge. The family members can share this report, and the members of the senior generation and their attorney can use it to begin to develop the master plan. e. In some cases, the facilitator’s report provides sufficient information so that family members can jointly make meaningful decisions about the property. If the family is yet unable to reach an agree- ment, one or more family meetings guided by the facilitator could follow to resolve areas of dispute, further define areas of agreement, and continue building a consensus. The development of a master plan with the assistance of a trained neutral third party is especially useful when the senior generation has already ceded control of the property to the next generation and questions and issues concerning actual management have arisen. 2. Often, the next step in developing a master plan is creating a mission statement to address the fam- ily’s goals and values with respect to the cabin. Issues to address in the mission statement could in- clude: a. What is most important to the family about the cabin? b. What does the family value most about how it uses the cabin? c. How would the family like to see the ownership of the cabin affect the ways the various members in- teract? 3. Of course, the use of a facilitator in estate planning is not going to be accepted by all clients. It is un- derstandably difficult to impress upon clients the value that could be added by employing a facilitator to guide this process. At a minimum, the lawyer could offer to distribute a survey to family members that they could respond to anonymously, to give the senior generation insight into the wishes and ap- prehensions of the next generation. As a result of the facilitator’s work or the lawyer’s survey, the sen- ior generation may discover that some or all of the members of the younger generation honestly have no interest in retaining the cabin. They also may be able to determine the apprehensions of those who do want to retain the cabin and resolve those issues before the cabin becomes a battleground. 4. It may be the case that, rather than being transferred as a whole to the next generation as part of the master plan, the property may need to be divided into separate portions, each to be dealt with differ- ently. The different uses may include development, conservation, and residential use. Next, with the help of the estate planning attorney, the family can identify techniques to accomplish these objec- tives, which are described below. C. Conservation And Preserving Open Space 1. Frequently, families determine that certain portions of their land should be preserved as open space. They may also choose to restrict development or other uses on the donated property, the retained property, or both. Outlined below are a number of methods for transferring an easement or the real property to charity. 2. Conservation Easements a. One common way to restrict development is with a conservation easement. (See Nancy A. McLaugh- lin, Questionable Conservation Easement Donations, 18 Probate & Property 40 (Sept./Oct. 2004) for an analysis of the IRS’s closer scrutiny of conservation easements and also an excellent list of further resources.) A conservation easement is a permanent restriction on the use of privately owned land to promote conservation. Granting a conservation easement typically reduces the value of the underly- ing real property for development purposes. For a family’s purposes this can also have the effect of preserving a property’s natural beauty and reducing gift and estate tax costs when the property is transferred between generations. b. The Internal Revenue Code (the “Code”) permits income, and gift or estate, tax deductions for a grant of a conservation easement over certain real property. §§170(h), 2055(f), 2522(d). (Unless otherwise indicated, all section references are to the Code.) (The Pension Protection Act of 2006, Pub. L. No. 109-280, 120 Stat. 780 (the “Pension Protection Act”) increased the deductibility of conservation easements for tax years 2006 and 2007. The Pension Protection Act at §1206, effective January 1, 2006. Section 1206 of the Pension Protection Act amends section 170 by permitting a deduction of up to 50 percent of a donor’s contribution base for certain conservation easements rather than the previ- ous deduction of up to 30 percent of a donor’s contribution base otherwise allowed under section 170(b)(1)(C). §170(b)(1)(E). Furthermore, it extends a taxpayer’s ability to carry forward unused de- ductions for 15 years, rather than five years as under prior law. §170(d)(1)(A). Other modifications in section 1206 apply for donations of non-publicly traded farming or ranching property. §170(b)(1)(E)(v).) The Treasury Regulations set forth detailed requirements for deductibility, which are summarized below. Treas. Reg. §1.170A-14. c. Qualified Conservation Contributions i. Section 170(f)(3)(B)(iii) of the Code provides an exception to the split-interest rules, which would normally disallow a deduction for the gift of a partial interest. ii. To be eligible for the deduction, the transfer must constitute a “qualified conservation contribution” as defined in section 170(h)(1), by satisfying the following requirements: (1) The property contributed must be a “qualified real property interest.” §170(h)(2). (2) The property must be donated to a “qualified organization.” §170(h)(3). (3) The gift must be “exclusively for conservation purposes.” §170(h)(4). This requirement can be sat- isfied by providing that the purposes are to continue in perpetuity. §170(h)(5)(a). iii. Each of these requirements is further defined by the statute and regulations. 
work_fjrqaeqwi5bddo3uvby44mwe24	----	CU Anschutz Pediatrics Sections & Programs Skip to content University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus Anschutz Webmail UCD Access Canvas Quick Links Search Submit   Locations CU Denver CU Anschutz Medical Campus CU South Denver CU Online Tools Webmail UCDAccess Canvas Directory A-Z Faculty & Staff University Policies Auraria Library Strauss Health Sciences Library Schools and Colleges CU Denver College of Architecture and Planning College of Arts & Media Business School School of Education & Human Development College of Engineering, Design and Computing Graduate School College of Liberal Arts and Sciences School of Public Affairs CU Anschutz Medical Campus School of Dental Medicine Graduate School School of Medicine College of Nursing Skaggs School of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences Colorado School of Public Health Department of Pediatrics School of Medicine Toggle navigation Home About Education Sections People Research Clinical News Events Academic & Faculty Affairs Home Sections Sections, Subspecialties, and Programs The strength of the Department of Pediatrics rests in part on the broad range of our subspecialty sections and related programs, and our affiliates - Children's Hospital Colorado, the  Barbara Davis Center for Childhood Diabetes and Denver Health. Twenty-three pediatric subspecialty sections and a diversity of specialized programs span the range from basic research to world-class clinical care. And because many of our faculty are both clinical practitioners and researchers, delivery of care regularly takes the latest medical advances directly into practice.  Sections and Subspecialties Adolescent Medicine Allergy and Immunology Cardiology Child Abuse and Neglect (Kempe Center) Child Neurology Critical Care Medicine Dermatology Developmental Biology Developmental Pediatrics ​Emergency Medicine Endocrinology Gastroenterology, Hepatology and Nutrition​ General Academic Pediatrics Genetics and Metabolism Hematology, Oncology and Bone Marrow Transplantation Infectious Diseases Informatics and Data Science​ Neonatology Nephrology Nutrition Pediatric Hospital Medicine Pediatric Pulmonary and Sleep Medicine​ Rheumatology ​​​​​​​​​​​ Pediatric Programs Adult & Child Consortium for Health Outcomes Research & Delivery Science (ACCORDS) Bioengineering Child Health Associate/Physician Assistant (CHA/PA) Children's Hospital Colorado Research and Innovation Children's Hospital Colorado Research Institute Biostatistics Support Colorado Clinical and Translational Sciences Institute CounterACT Research Center of Excellence Gastrointestinal Eosinophilic Diseases Program Inherited Metabolic Diseases Nutrition Department JFK Partners Linda Crnic Institute for Down Syndrome Pediatric Heart Lung Center Perinatal Research Center Prevention Research Center Fellowship Programs Residency Program DID YOU KNOW? Our fellowship programs train nearly 250 fellows in over 55 subspecialties, 33 of which are ACGME-accredited programs.   Department of Pediatrics CU Anschutz Administrative Pavilion 13123 E. 16th Ave. B065 Aurora, CO 80045 720-777-2715 Department of Pediatrics SOM Homepage Find a Doctor Find a Researcher Donate Contact Us General Affiliate/Partner Hospitals CU Medicine A - Z Index Campus Directory Map and Parking Students Apply Now Health Sciences Library Student Life Research Dean's Office Children's Hospital Colorado CHCO Homepage Departments Conditions & Advice Locations Schedule an Appointment Top Contact Us Website Feedback CU System Privacy Policy Terms of Use Accreditation Employment Give Now   © 2021 The Regents of the University of Colorado, a body corporate. All rights reserved. Accredited by the Higher Learning Commission. All trademarks are registered property of the University. Used by permission only. CMS Login Webmail UCD Access Canvas Search Submit Opens in a new window Opens document in a new window 
work_foewgbw2fbdyxb2avwtefhesde	----	Chambers of Commerce and Industry Page 1 of 10 Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success Bahaudin G Mujtaba1*, Frank J Cavico1 and Tipakorn Senathip2 1Nova Southeastern University, USA 2Ramkhamhaeng University, Bangkok, Thailand Introduction Leadership and success are not mutually exclusive; as such, both can happen simultaneously. Accordingly, it should be noted that not all good leaders are necessarily seen as “successful” in terms of finances or material wealth; and not all financially well- informed successful individuals are viewed as good leaders. Success and leadership are defined by different traits. We believe that “success” can and should be defined by each person based on his or her desires, abilities, competencies, goals, and efforts. Consequently, it is not the place of organizational leaders to determine how successful a person can or should be based on his/ her first impression of the employee or on the associate’s physical/ personality characteristics. Ralph Waldo Emerson said Mujtaba [1]. What is success? To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. Success can be “practicing what you preach,” progressively realizing predetermined goals/ideals, and doing one’s best to make worthwhile contributions to society Mujtaba [2,3]. Therefore, it is a moral imperative and obligation for managers and organizational leaders to proceed as though limits to employees’ abilities do not exist; thus, each employee should be given fair opportunities to perform as per his or her desires, abilities, competencies, and dreams. Next, in this paper, we review several pertinent topics from the literature to glean relevant recommendations for personal success and leadership in the modern workplace, which can be applied by each professional as per his / her goals. Literature Review Two thousand years ago, Aristotle explained his “modes for persuasion,” or rhetorical appeals, through the application of ethos, pathos, and logos to make others believe or see a certain point of *Corresponding author: Bahaudin G. Mujtaba, Professor of Management / HRM, Huizenga College of Business and Entrepreneurship, Nova Southeastern University, Fort Lauderdal, USA. Received Date: January 04, 2020 Published Date: January 22, 2020 ISSN: 2687-8097 DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Conceptual Paper Copyright © All rights are reserved by Bahaudin G This work is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 License SJRR.MS.ID.000538. Abstract Human beings have reflected on becoming and serving as successful leaders for thousands of years. Most people agree that leadership skills are composed of both art and science. Leaders who are performance-focused and developmental in their leadership styles characteristically are concerned with the well-being and success of their employees. Effective leaders attempt to develop their people through effective communication, motivation, vision, and interpersonal skills. Furthermore, these leaders develop and empower effective teams in their departments and organizations. Based on a review of literature and the combined 100 years of experience among the authors, this article’s philosophical, scholarly, and practical aspects build on one another, proceeding from general to specific, to provide some essential imperatives for successful leadership. More specifically, we look at the characterization of leadership and success from a common-sense point of view. We try to answer the question: can a person be an effective leader and be truly perceived as “successful” in society? We provide reflections on this topic along with relevant practical recommendations; and readers are encouraged to act in an efficient, efficacious, profitable, and honorable manner; and not just for this coming New Year, but to live and act this appropriate way for the rest of one’s life. Finally, the article offers specific suggestions, and strategies for successful, ethical and sustainable leadership. Keywords: Success; Leadership; Art; Science; Social intelligence; Professionalism; Situational awareness http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 https://irispublishers.com/index.php https://irispublishers.com/sjrr/ Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Page 2 of 10 view. As can be seen in Figure 1, the consistent application of ethos, pathos and logos can be the essential imperatives of leadership success since successful leaders must be ethical and credible, control their emotions and feelings, and use logic and reason to persuade others in the organization. Figure 1 - Imperative of Leadership Success Figure 1: Imperative of Leadership Success. The aforementioned values are reflected in the book, entitled “Social Intelligence: The New Science of Success,” written by Karl Albrecht [4]. Albrecht discusses some basic tenets of human relations that should be practiced by each leader and manager in the workplace. Albrecht’s goal is to help professionals, managers and leaders see the beauty in human behaviors, and at the same time to let people understand those behaviors that differentiate effective leaders from ineffective ones. Effective leaders, according to Albrecht (2006), are those leaders who exhibit nurturing behaviors: behaviors that make people feel valued, capable, loved, respected, and appreciated. Nevertheless, some people feel that leadership and success are only about financial wealth. When we read newspaper headlines, it is easy to find stories on how business executives, and in some instances employees, have become agents of unethical behavior motivated by immense greed and manifested in organizational theft. More recently, stakeholders have even sought to tightly link executive compensation to organizational performance. Albrecht (2006) notes that the basis for social intelligence is built on the principle of S.P.A.C.E. (situational awareness, presence, authenticity, clarity, and empathy). The situational awareness dimension highly relates to the concept of situational leadership, which, among many factors, takes into consideration the psychological and task readiness of the follower in terms of his or her development and responsibility delegation (Mujtaba, 2010, pp. 200-202). The “S” factor represents situational awareness or the individual’s situational radar and ability to understand and empathize with people in different situations. Situational awareness, which is similar to situational leadership skills, can be tied to a leader’s ability to sense people’s readiness to successfully complete as task as well as their feelings and intentions. How well can a leader study the environment, the culture, the social rules, and norms, and use these differences to appreciate the various points of view without being judgmental? Good situational radar demonstrates the leader’s concern for people, his or her deep respect for others, and his or her ways of thinking. Situational awareness includes the leader’s belief in multiple ways to solve problems as well as the leader’s belief that he or she is not self- centered. A self-centered individual will find cooperation by others difficult to accept; consequently, he or she will find it difficult to get people to accept him/her or share themselves with him/her. “P” stands for presence, or the way the leader affects others through his or her physical appearance, mood and demeanor, body language, and approachability. Albrecht states that leaders’ behaviors must communicate a sense of confidence, professionalism, kindness, and friendliness to the followers. The leader’s presence in the mind of his or her followers must not be viewed as depressing, indifferent, or insecure. As a leader, one must pay special attention to the sense of presence he or she is communicating to others in order to be accepted and taken seriously. “A” stands for authenticity, which measures how honest and sincere a leader is, both to him or herself and to the followers. According to Albrecht, “authenticity is about the desire and ability to let yourself be real, not phony or contrived. It’s how you connect with other people, so you become worthy of their trust.” Leaders must be viewed as straight-up, someone who believes in doing the right thing, and stands up for what he or she believes in. Authenticity means a solid, trustworthy person with a positive attitude and an upstanding character. The “C” in S.P.A.C.E. means clarity. Clarity is the leader’s ability to make him or herself known and clearly so to his or her followers. Clarity measures one’s ability to express your thoughts, opinions, ideas, and intentions clearly to one’s audience or listeners. Albrecht argues that organizational leaders must examine their communication skills and ask: do you say what you mean and mean what you say? Do you speak too fast, too much, or not at all? Does your voice pitch, rate, volume, and inflection inspire confidence or disrespect? Do you use language skillfully? Can you frame concepts and issues for others in an articulate, compelling way? Do you listen attentively and skillfully? These questions should be tied to the organization’s behavioral model; and, accordingly, should be expected of every leader in the organization. Awareness of one’s mode of communication makes communication better and puts more clarity into one’s intention or purpose. Albrecht states that, “Certain patterns of language, either aggressive, dogmatic, or restrictive in their implications, can alienate others, contaminating the process of understanding.” To influence other people with our ideas and thoughts, leaders must present the information in a way that makes it easy and fast for people to understand. Finally, “E” stands for empathy, which addresses how considerate the leader is to people’s feelings. The leader must be able to show people that he or she can identify with and appreciate them for http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Page 3 of 10 who they are. It is this sense of connectedness that establishes a condition of rapport between two people and inspires followers to cooperate with their leaders. The author provides two ways for leaders to ensure that they are perceived as caring. Albrecht urges leaders to avoid or abandon toxic behaviors and increase the use of nourishing behaviors. Empathy, according to the author, is a long- term investment and not an episodic application of charm. Albrecht believes that leaders cannot expect followers to respect and accept their leadership if they constantly abuse, insult, and make them feel insignificant or unworthy. The road to complete acceptance is to get people to share a feeling of connectedness with you as a leader, thereby making them closer, rather than farther from you. Sadly, is a fact that inappropriate behaviors by leaders and employees make employee engagement difficult, and it makes effective relationships a difficult objective to achieve in the organization. However, effective interpersonal relationships are an important tool for quality leadership and both organizational and personal success. As such, in this article, we offer some success strategies that can be applied by all individuals so they can be considered successful leaders Figure 2. Figure 2: The Iceberg of Success. The strategies mentioned in this article are not only philosophies based on the work of thousands of authors and experts in the field; but also most of them have been personally applied by us as authors both in our personal and professional lives over the past half-century. As exhibited in Figure 2, success can be like an iceberg where the results can be observed, but the process of getting there is not always apparent to the naked eye. For example, the results of success can be receiving awards, titles, degrees, having a corner office, professionalism, patience, having a nice car, or a big home that are apparent as symbols. However, things that others cannot always see regarding the process of becoming a success are often underneath the iceberg such as the sacrifices that one has to make, the routine of dieting and exercising to stay healthy, and one’s daily habits to achieve pre-determined goals in a timely manner. It is the persistent and effective application of characteristics and habits that are below the waterline that eventually lead to the outcomes which are observable and above the waterline. In this paper, we highlight those traits and habits that fall below the waterline on the iceberg, which are not necessarily seen or observed by others, but they are the foundational imperatives of sustainable personal success. Modern leaders, therefore, need to self-assess and reflect on the forthcoming habits and strategies for sustainable success along with their own definition of leadership and success as well as those of their associates in order to bring about positive changes, appropriate policies, and to lead the development of their employees in a timely manner. Concurrently, leaders and managers need to reduce the negative impact of their footprints such as undue stress, conflict, pollution, etc. in their departments, organizations and society at large Mujtaba [5,6]; Senathip, Mujtaba and Cavico [7]; Cavico and Mujtaba [8]; Ahmed et al. [9]; Ahn, Adamson and Dornbusch [10]; Sungkhawan, Mujtaba, Swaidan, and Kaweevisultrakul [11]; Allegretti [12]; Wolf & Mujtaba [13]; Alon and McAllaster [14]. Consequently, on the following pages, while building on the previous literature and discussion, we are offering some findings and recommendations about success and leadership skills related to goal setting, education, soft-skills, personality, common sense, respect, self-interest, stress, professionalism, risk- taking, and gaining “good luck.” Findings and Recommendations Goal setting and achieving We believe that success is the progressive realization of worthwhile and predetermined goals. As such, it is important that each person first clarifies his/her goals; then, assess that those goals are aligned with one’s personal values; and, finally, make sure that the achievement of each goal is worthwhile for oneself, one’s family, and the society overall in a sustainable manner. This way, you can keep going in the direction of your goals, even if moving or progressing slowly, eventually you will get to your destination. Goal setting and achieving are both an art and a science. Start with the achievement of small and “doable” goals so you can http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Page 4 of 10 master the skills necessary to achieve them. The authors stress that it is imperative that you set worthy and attainable goals. Aim prospectively high; think “big”; but start out presently in a modest manner. Thus, it will be useful to break down your goals into smaller and more manageable; and thereby to set forth more achievable objectives. Fit your short-term objectives into your long-term goals. Set your primary goals, which will require most of your effort; and then set your secondary goals, which will require less effort. Obviously, effort is critical to achieving goals; but so is prioritizing and being focused. Be committed to attaining your goals; be passionate and optimistic; yet be patient, but persistent. Set deadlines in the form of timetables, for achieving goals and doing tasks. Moreover, limit the amount of time even for achieving important objectives; and try to adhere to those periods; but be realistic. Also, be prepared for unexpected interruptions and problems. Furthermore, see if you can accomplish more than one secondary goal together in one set time-period. You should be, and continue to be, systematic and methodical in documenting your successes in working towards and achieving each goal. Learn and document the strategies that work and avoid those that are not fruitful. Moreover, it is very important to success for you to take a long- term perspective; that is, be willing to undergo some short-term sacrifice and expense in order to maximize your own greater long- term good. Execute your strategy for success; for example, have “to-do” lists (short-term and long-term); have goals and objectives that are attainable; achieve them; and then set more goals and objectives. Differentiate between those actions and tasks, which appear urgent versus those that are important. Tasks and actions which are urgent and important should be done quickly; then focus on those tasks which are important; and, if the urgent tasks are not important then you can avoid them or simply delegate them to someone else. Prioritizing is an important ingredient to success. Accordingly, have a clear, definite, and achievable set of priorities; have strategic objectives as well as the tactics to achieve them. Realize that as the business or organization grows, you must focus on the key objectives that will lead to success. As noted, learn to delegate to others the achievement of the other objectives that are not critical for you to achieve as the leader of the entity. However, also be prepared to renegotiate prior commitments if you are overburdened with work. The idea is to achieve a proper balance between the time and effort you need to lead and manage the business or organization and the time you need to work yourself on critical projects. You will likely be more productive if you do not micro-manage every aspect of the business; but rather mainly commit yourself to the performance and attainment of certain important goals. As such, the more time you have to study the “big” issues or problems, to fully understand them and to develop solutions, and to more carefully implement and supervise solutions. When new issues or problems emerge, be careful not to overload or overwhelm yourself with work; rather, be prepared to re-order your priorities and to delegate some work to others. Try to avoid unnecessary interruptions when working to achieve goals; consequently, do not give employees and other people the “liberty” to interrupt you continuously; learn to say, “No” and “do not bother me,” but be polite and courteous in so doing. Learn effective delegation. Be a “good” delegator; that is, do not merely “hand-off ” projects to others, but choose your delegates carefully based on their knowledge, skill, training, motivation, as well as the ability to understand instructions and work independently or in teams, as required. Make sure they are committed to the project and that they have the resources they need to complete it. Moreover, make sure that you establish parameters for completion and; check their performance regularly while providing relevant feedback based on the assessment of whether standards have been met or not. Always remember that even though you delegated a project to a subordinate, you as a leader or upper-level manager are still responsible for its timely, full, and adequate execution. Education Education is critical to personal, business, and professional success, as well as to be a successful leader. Accordingly, one must develop the requisite skills, knowledge, and expertise to achieve success. One thus must undergo pertinent training, education, and continuing education, including workshops, seminars, and professional development. Moreover, you must be prepared to “re-tool” yourself if necessary. First, develop the “hard skills.” Obviously, make sure you have the basic competencies in the “3- Rs”: reading, writing, and arithmetic. Then accelerate, expand, and improve your scope and rate of education and learning. Start part- time, temporary, and/or at the entry-level, if necessary, but start! As such, gradually acquire the knowledge, skills, and experience you will need to achieve proficiency; and then advance to more full-time education and learning. Also, learn by doing; and maybe learn the “hard way,” that is, from trying new approaches through strategic experimentation, and consequently learning from the experience and mistakes. Moreover, admit mistakes; and then be willing to, and be able to, be self-educated and self-trained. The mark of a mature person is to “own” your errors, learn from them, and be able to move forward from your errors. Accordingly, take responsibility for your actions, which is what trustworthy people and true leaders do. The objective is to achieve excellence and to become recognized as being very good at something as well as a high achiever. That is, make yourself regarded as a “go-to” person. Help others, even though you may be acting outside of the technical scope of your duties. Most importantly, help take work away from boss and thereby reduce the workload and stress of the boss; and thereby be regarded as a dependable and essential person by the boss. However, you also must be keenly aware of your “blind-spots,” that is, areas that you are weak in and consequently need to develop. Yet, also be cognizant of your “hidden-strengths,” that is, talents and skills that you are not using and/or publicizing that you possess. You must be aware today that there is a societal expectation that business will act not “merely” in a legal manner, but also ethically http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Page 5 of 10 in a moral manner, as well as in a socially responsible as well as “sustainable,” that is, environmentally responsible, manner. In addition, since today the economy is truly a global one you must be aware of globalization, and in particular, you must be aware of not only the laws of the U.S., but also the laws of the host countries you are doing business in, as well as the extraterritorial effect of U.S. laws. Education is the key, and “to be forewarned is to be forearmed”! [15]. “Soft-Skills” In addition to the “hard-skills,” it is also very important that you develop some of your relevant “soft-skills,” that is, have a positive attitude, be optimistic, possess a good work ethic; have traits of honesty and integrity, and exhibit good communication skills, cultural competency, and sensitivity. Also important is having strong collaboration skills; that is be able to collaborate and arrange collaboration to effectuate strategies and achieve business or organizational goals. Create and develop collaborative relationships where both parties receive value. Accordingly, you must view employees as “human investments.” Realize as employees grow and develop, so too will you and your organization, including its profitability. The objective is to create an environment where employees feel they can voice their opinions freely without fear of repercussions. As such, develop relationships at work – mentors/ coaches, confidantes, friends. Look for hidden and untapped potential in employees and others; and then seek to draw them out into jobs or tasks you feel they would be good at naturally. Yet be cognizant of the fact that it can be a “hard sell” to push people into jobs and tasks they feel they are not qualified for or able to do. Always be positive, passionate, and excited about work and goal attainment. As a result, you will attract like-minded people. Celebrate achievements and recognize accomplishments, which will create high morale, motivate employees, and thus help to achieve goals as well as increase productivity. Help employees achieve their goals – both inside and outside the company; ensure that employees have the tools they need to get the job done. Guide your employees, lead people through inspiration and transformation, give direction as relevant, manage when needed; but also empower associates and followers; and be prepared to serve as a role model. Express gratitude, for example, simply saying “thank you” or writing a short gracious note, for work well done and/or for help and assistance provided. Gratitude, if genuine, will create and strengthen relationships, build-up employees’ self-esteem, foster trust and loyalty, and increase motivation and productivity. Talk to employees, and encourage managers to do so too, about company values and the mission. You will see that the result will be to help people feel more connected to the company’s mission and values; and thereby try to align company’s vision and values with those of employees, for example, changing the world for the better by producing a particular product or providing a certain service. Create opportunities for the employee’s advancement and growth; offer education, training, support, and structure. Demonstrate that you are interested in the employees’ advancement and success. Also, offer opportunities to move among positions for cross-functional development. Build relationships with employees and people; get counsel and “feedback” from them and others – family, co-workers, clients, and customers. Always entertain different points of view; and listen to different points of view with a sense of understanding. Encourage and allow people to “say what needs to be said,” to challenge and question ideas and policies, as well as allow debate, but always in a respectful manner and a positive tone. Open-up issues and questions for discussion and sharing of opinions, regardless of a person’s position or title. Listen to others at work; help others at work; empathize with them; and thus make them true colleagues and “allies.” Also, help them “pick- up the slack”; invite co-workers to lunch; organize office activities; the result will be more engaged employees, a very harmonious work environment, and more committed and productive employees. Pleasant personality There is “the power of being polite,” as the old maxim says. That is, be a nice person and have a pleasant personality. Be open and transparent with people. Be forgiving and compassionate; be patient with other people’s mistakes. Give praise when well deserved; and render criticism in a constructive and respectful manner. The result will be that you will be liked, and you will have friends, allies, and team-members. In addition, you will create a harmonious atmosphere which will give people, especially your employees, the “comfort level,” drive, and motivation to do excellent work. Similarly, you must be modest and humble; and you must avoid arrogance. Be willing to praise people and their success; and be willing to share credit for successes too. Most importantly, avoid negativity and negative people; as such, associate with positive people. Do not be negative with yourself; do not admonish yourself; and do not reflect negativity. Rather be happy; and look for people who are happy and satisfied with life, and hire and promote them, as they usually will be very pleasant and productive associates. Common Sense Common sense is a very important ingredient to success. Accordingly, find out what you like to do and do well; yet note that you do not have to be good in everything. As such, realize that others will be willing and able to assist you in weak areas. Moreover, find out what you do not like to do and do not do well, as that is part of the self-education process. Obviously, “go with your strengths.” Initially, do not worry if you are not sure what direction you should take; ultimately, you will figure it out, perhaps by “trial-and-error.” Yet keep on trying; keep on striving; look for opportunities to take advantage of; and make your own opportunities by being persistent, watchful, and ready. Moreover, always remember the old maxim: “There is a person for every job and a job for every person.” Role Models Look for role models in the form of virtuous and successful people. These role models can serve as formal and informal mentors and coaches. Learn from them and seek their advice and counsel. You will see that successful people develop successful habits, which http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Page 6 of 10 they maintain and refine on a consistent basis. See what they are doing and do well and emulate their successful habits. Learn from mentors and coaches; keep them engaged or “in the loop”, while seeking their advice and counsel often. Particularly, look for successful and ethical leaders who recognize and nurture talent, and who are willing to spend time with you, take an interest in you, and answer the questions that you ask. That is, essentially, look for role models and leaders who are willing to “take a chance on you.” Respect To be truly successful and to sustain that success, you must create a culture of morality, respect, mutual support, caring, and openness; and you should strive to create a culture of happiness and fun too. Establish a culture built on a solid foundation of morality, respect, recognition, and well-earned and well-deserved rewards. Value and cherish diversity among people; and as such be cognizant of the fresh ideas, opinions, and perspectives that diverse people and cultures can bring forth. Always, always, treat people with respect and dignity; demonstrate that the company cares about its employees as individuals. Accordingly, do not treat people merely as a “number,” “thing,” tool or instrument. People are people, that is, human beings, and they must always be treated with dignity and respect and as worthwhile human beings in-and-of themselves. Accordingly, you must always focus on the company’s or organization’s greatest resource – its people. Consequently, never forget that no one will long follow you as a leader, and you will never achieve long-lasting personal and organizational success, if you are not a law-abiding, ethical, moral, and socially and environmentally responsible person. Self-Interest The United States is a democratic, capitalistic republic. Accordingly, there is nothing wrong with self-interest and to ethically increase your personal wealth, and as a result becoming very successful and making a lot of money. As Adam Smith long ago said, you will benefit, and society will benefit too as there will be more and better goods, services, and efficiencies. So have a good and strong work ethic; and do not be wary of a “little hard work.” There is no substitute for hard work and persistence, the authors emphasize, which will pay off in long run. In addition, save money (and for a young person starting out we suggest at least 10% of monthly earnings). Also, you should prepare a budget; keep track of expenses; know the difference between wants and needs; and, as emphasized, save money for yourself and for your business, especially when the “times are good” in case, as is likely in life, the “times are bad” Stress Stress is inevitable in life, particularly in business, and especially at the leadership level; but list your “stresses” and “stressors.” Then take small but concrete and effective steps to reduce and eliminate them. It will be most helpful to have a “family life,” which will bring balance to your life. Accordingly, achieve “work-life” balance; and as such allow yourself time to relax, reenergize, and reset. In addition, understand that employees have stress too as well as a life outside of work. Professionalism Strive to be a professional in every action you take, that is, engage in appropriate conduct and dress code. Remember that you will be representing a company or organization and its brand and image. Also, note that ultimately you will want to be a leader who needs followers who will want to follow and work for a leader that exhibits a professional demeanor. So be mindful of your actions, obviously including personal habits, and especially, your social media usage. Be responsible, reliable, and dependable (and at a high-level). Develop a reputation for integrity, ethics, honesty, and trust; demonstrate respect for people; and be fair-minded and impartial in your dealings with people. Moreover, you must exhibit social and environmental responsibility (that is, sustainability). Accordingly, be a volunteer; help others; have company community, charity, and “give-back” events; and allow employees time off to volunteer. All the foregoing characteristics are all essential hallmarks of the “professional” person. Risk-Taking To be successful at some point it will be necessary to take some risks. So, take some calculated risks, but look for intelligent though risky propositions, whereby you have a good chance for success. Be willing to challenge beliefs and perceived “truths.” Look for opportunities and be prepared to take advantage of those apparent opportunities. Yet also create opportunities where you can apply your knowledge and skills. Be entrepreneurial, innovative, nimble, and adaptable; have a strategy for success; and have a team- oriented culture that is exciting and inspires innovation, creativity, and success. Be a “shaper” and not a mere “reactor”; and thus be willing and able to respond to new favorable circumstances as well as to create new circumstances. As Niccolo Machiavelli said, “be bold,” but also note that he said, “Fortune favors the young because they are bold.” “Good Luck” Clearly, it is very good and most helpful to have “good luck,” good fortune, and to be in the “right place at the right time.” Yet, the authors submit that you can “make your own luck” by persistence and perseverance, educating and empowering yourself, being competitive, and taking advantage of apparent and upcoming opportunities. The old maxim is true, that is, “the harder you work the luckier you will get.” Also true is the old maxim that “a talented person is a lucky person; and a lucky person is a talented person.” Overcome bad luck, rejection, and disappointment, which are inevitable in life; certainly, do not take rejection personally. Be positive, work hard, set attainable goals and work persistently to achieve them, look for and create opportunities, and thereby create your own success. As noted, it helps to be young and thus to be bolder and more willing to take risks. In addition, it helps to be in a business environment that is the “land of opportunity,” especially for entrepreneurs. http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Page 7 of 10 Leadership Leadership is about having a vision of the future and influencing others to take appropriate actions towards this direction and goal. Ultimately, you need to learn and develop your own leadership character, talents and skills to effectively influence others. If people believe you are honest, hardworking, bright, intelligent, and ethical, then they are more likely to believe your ideas and trust you. So, practice and develop your leadership skills. Strive to be the leader of a team, department, division, and eventually an organization. Develop innate leadership skills; and refine your leadership skills. As such, know and understand your leadership style. Always ask the following key questions: do you lead by example, how do you make decisions, how much input do you get and from whom, what do you delegate and to whom, what (hard) work do you do for yourself, what do you delegate to others, what motivation techniques do you use, do you empower or micro-manage your employees, and, most importantly, how do you respond to problems (for example, in a calm and confident demeanor, admitting mistakes and not shifting blame, assuring the problem will not happen again, getting feedback from team members and employees on how to avoid in the future, and trying to use unfortunate circumstances to create something positive)? When you are at the appropriate leadership level, provide team members and employees with the relevant resources, education, training, and skills needed to be successful. You thus must become a teacher, mentor, and coach for others. You especially must recognize and empower ethical and competent people. Allow and encourage team members and employees to collaborate and share their ideas with you and other members of the organization. As a leader, have a vision and the values, drive, motivation, and be ability to “sell” that vision to others, and then to motivate key people to work with you and others to achieve that vision. Formulas for Success Based on the preceding discussions and suggestions, we offer to you the following practical “formulas” for success; that is, for you to gain that competitive advantage, for you to “win the game” of business or other endeavors, to obtain position and power, and to make money. The first formula is known as the “7 P’s” Formula for Success,” consisting of the following elements: i. plan, ii. performance, iii. patience, iv. persistence, v. passion, vi. politeness, and vii. presence. The next formula is the “Success Triad,” consisting of the following elements: I. “sound” decision-making, II. adherence to core values, and III. taking a long-term approach. Finally, the authors submit that one must adhere to the aforementioned formulas; and then one must ask, and answer satisfactorily, the following questions when contemplating an action or decision: Is it legal based on the law? Is it moral based on ethics? Moreover, what should a socially responsible and environmentally responsible company or organization be doing? Accordingly, the authors submit that if you do all the foregoing points you and your business or organization will be successful, and you will be able to sustain that success, and as a result, you, your family, your business and organization and its stakeholders, including the local community and society as a whole, will benefit. Summary As authors, we fully and enthusiastically believe that if you comprehend the philosophical underpinnings of leadership and then follow the aforementioned practical recommendations (see a summary list in Appendix, gained from experts and researchers), there is a great future for you to be an effective leader and successful. Success means being profitable, of course, but always remember the motto of the old city-state of Venice: “For the Profit and Honor of Venice.” That is, be very successful but in an honorable manner, that is, adhering to the law and ethical and moral norms as well as being socially responsible. Therefore, we strongly recommend that you first focus on being an effective leader in the service of society and others through your unique knowledge and skills; and as a result, “success” will be the natural corollary of your hard work, diligence, and social responsibility. You will be a successful leader on a sustainable basis. Finally, as authors and educators, we truly tell you that one of our greatest satisfactions is your success. Appendix Leadership Success Practices The following list is a summary of the specific reminders, suggestions, tactics, and strategies for effective leadership and personal and organizational success presented and examined in the article (Eckfeldt[16]; Gilbert[17]; Schwantes[18,19]; Tullman[20] 2019; Noe, Hollenbeck, Gerhart and Wright[21]; Cheng- Tozun[22]; Cohan[23]; DesMarais[24]; Economy [25]; Haden[26]; Thomas[27]2017; Amdur [28]; Boitnott [29]; Cavico and Mujtaba, 2014): 1. Set worthy AND attainable goals. 2. Aim high; think “big” but start out modestly; break down your goals into smaller and more manageable and thus more achievable objectives. 3. Fit your short-term objectives into your long-term goals. 4. Be committed to attaining your goals; be passionate; yet be patient but persistent. http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Page 8 of 10 5. Gain new skills, knowledge, expertise, training, education and professional development; be prepared to “re-tool” yourself if necessary; develop “hard skills”. 6. Develop “soft-skills,” that is, positive attitude, good work ethic, honesty and integrity, good communication, culture-fit, and critical thinking. 7. Develop strong collaboration skills; be able to collaborate to achieve organizational strategies and goals. 8. Challenge non-proven beliefs and perceived “truths”. 9. Make sure you have basic competencies in the “3-Rs”: reading, writing, and arithmetic. 10. Accelerate, expand, and improve your scope and rate of learning. 11. Use common sense, even when the numbers might show otherwise. 12. Find out what you like to do and do it well. Note that you do not have to be good in everything; realize that others will be able to assist you in weak areas. 13. Find out what you do not like to do and do not do well; do not worry if you are not sure what direction to take - you will figure it out. 14. Find what you love to do. Remember that old maxim: “There is a person for every job, and a job for every person”. You can start part-time, temporary, and or entry-level, and then acquire the needed knowledge, skills, and experience, and thus advance to full-time. 15. Learn by doing and learn from mistakes; admit mistakes; be willing and able to be educated and trained; “own” your errors and be able to move forward from them; take responsibility for your actions (which is what trustworthy people and leaders do). 16. Look for professional and respected role models; learn from successful people; seek their counsel. 17. Learn from mentors and coaches; look for a leader who nurtures talent and those that are willing to spend time with you, take an interest in you, and answer the questions you ask; look for a leader who is willing to “take a chance on you”. 18. Achieve excellence; become recognized as being very good at something; be regarded as a “go-to” person; help to take work away from boss and to reduce the stress and workload of the boss; be recognized as a high-achiever. 19. Strive to be the leader of a team, department, division, and organization; provide people with education and training/ skills needed to be successful; be a teacher of others. 20. Engage, delegate and empower competent people; allow team members to collaborate and share their ideas. 21. Develop innate leadership skills; also learn and refine leadership skills; know and understand your leadership style. 22. View employees as “human investments”; as employees grow and develop so too will you and your organization, including its profitability. 23. Create an environment where employees feel they can voice their opinions freely without fear of repercussions. 24. Develop relationships at work – mentors/coaches, confidantes, friends. 25. Look for hidden and untapped potential in employees and others and seek to draw them out into jobs or tasks you feel they would do well. 26. Create and develop collaborative relationships where both parties receive value. 27. Be positive, passionate, excited; you will attract like- minded people. 28. Celebrate achievements and recognize accomplishments, which will create high morale, motivate employees, and thus increase productivity. 29. Create a culture of respect, mutual support, caring, openness, and success; and a culture of happiness and fun too. 30. Create a culture of respect, recognition, and well-earned and well-deserved rewards. 31. Help employees achieve their goals – both inside and outside the company; ensure that employees have the tools they need to get the job done. 32. Guide employees, give direction, but also empower them and serve as a role model. 33. Express gratitude, by saying “thank you” for work well done and/or help and assistance. 34. Value diversity among people and be cognizant of the fresh ideas, opinions, and perspectives they can bring forth. 35. Talk to employees; and try to link or align company’s vision and values with those of associates. 36. Create opportunities for advancement and growth. 37. Stress is inevitable, but list your “stresses,” and encourage the employees to do so, and then take small but concrete and effective steps to effectively manage, reduce and eliminate them. 38. Save money; prepare a budget; keep track of expenses; know difference between wants and needs. 39. Have a “family life,” to achieve “work-life” balance; allow time to relax, reenergize, and reset. 40. Build relationships with people; get counsel “feedback” from others – family, co-workers, clients, customers; listen to http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Page 9 of 10 different points of view. 41. Practice professionalism; remember that you will be representing your own brand or those of your organization. 42. Be responsible, reliable, and dependable (and at a high- level). 43. Develop a reputation for integrity, ethics, honesty, trust; demonstrate respect for people; be fair-minded and impartial in your dealings with people. 44. Always treat people with respect and dignity; demonstrate that the company cares about its employees as individuals; always focus on the company’s greatest resource – its people. 45. Encourage environmental responsibility (sustainability); be a volunteer; help others; and allow employees time off to volunteer. 46. Help others at work; help them “pick-up the slack”; invite co-workers to lunch; organize office activities; the result will be more engaged employees. 47. Remember that employees have a life outside of work. 48. Be optimistic and practice maintaining a positive attitude at all times. 49. Have a “pleasant personality,” forgiving, compassionate; be patient with other people’s mistakes 50. Be open and transparent with people. 51. Give praise when well deserved; the result will be to give employees the drive and motivation to do excellent work. 52. Be modest; be humble; avoid arrogance; be willing to share credit for successes. 53. Avoid negativity and negative people; associate with positive people; and do not be negative with yourself; do not admonish yourself. 54. Look for people who are happy and satisfied with life, and hire and promote them, as they usually will be very productive and not negative. 55. Do not use profanity and do not do drugs. No one is going to hire you if you use drugs or if you constantly use profanity in your daily language. 56. Take some calculated chances/risks, but intelligent ones; look for opportunities; take advantage of opportunities; create opportunities where you can apply your knowledge and skills. 57. Be entrepreneurial, innovative, nimble, and adaptable; have a strategy for success; have a team-oriented culture that is exciting and inspires innovation, creativity, and success. 58. Be a “shaper” and not a mere “reactor”; be willing and able to respond to new circumstances. 59. Be aware of “blind-spots” (areas that you need to develop) and “hidden-strengths,” that is, talents/skills that you are not using and/or publicizing. 60. Take a long-term perspective; be willing to undergo some short-term sacrifice and expense to maximize your own greater long-term good. 61. Execute your strategy for success; have “to-do” lists; have strategic goals and objectives, achieve them, and then set more goals/objectives. 62. Prioritize: Have a clear, definite, and achievable set of priorities. 63. Learn to train, develop, trust, and empower others. Achieve a proper balance between the time and effort you need to manage the business or organization and the time you need to work yourself on critical projects. 64. When new issues or problems emerge, be careful not to overload or overwhelm yourself with work; rather, be prepared to re-order your priorities and thus to delegate work to others. 65. Be a “good” delegator; that is, do not merely “hand-off ” projects to others, but choose your delegates carefully based on knowledge, skill, training, and motivation. 66. Be aware of globalization; be aware of the laws of the host countries you are doing business in while acting responsibility. 67. “Make your own luck” by persistence/perseverance, empowering yourself, being competitive, and taking advantage of opportunities; the harder you work the luckier you get. 68. Learn from rejections; do not take rejection personally; create your own success. 69. Practice the “7 P’s” of success: plan, performance, patience, persistence, passion, politeness, and presence. 70. Gain a sustainable competitive advantage through “sound” decision-making, adherence to core values, and by taking a long-term and sustainable approach. Acknowledgement None. Conflict of Interest No conflict of interest. References 1. Mujtaba BG (2010) Workforce Diversity Management: Challenges, Competencies and Strategies. USA. 2. Cavico FJ, Mujtaba BG (2014) Business Ethics: The Moral Foundation for Effective Leadership, Management, and Entrepreneurship. Pearson Publications, England. 3. Mujtaba BG (2014) Managerial Skills and Practices for Global Leadership. USA. 4. Albrecht, Karl (2006) Social Intelligence: the New Science of Success. Jossey-Bass. USA. http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 Scientific Journal of Research and Reviews Volume 2-Issue 3 Citation: Bahaudin G Mujtaba, Frank J Cavico, Tipakorn Senathip. Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success. Sci J Research & Rev. 2(3): 2020. SJRR.MS.ID.000538. DOI: 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538. Page 10 of 10 5. Mujtaba BG (2019) Leadership and Management Philosophy of Guzaara or Cooperating to Get Along in South Asia’s Afghanistan. Business Ethics and Leadership 3(1): 44-57. 6. Curtin, Melanie (2019) Strategies for dealing with a horrible boss. Florida, pp. 6D. 7. Senathip T, Mujtaba BG, Cavico FJ (2017) Policy-Making Considerations for Ethical and Sustainable Economic Development. Economy 4(1): 7-14. 8. Cavico FJ, Mujtaba BG (2016) Developing a Legal, Ethical, and Socially Responsible Mindset for Sustainable Leadership. USA. 9. Ahmed AM, Yang JB, Dale BG (2003) Self-assessment methodology: The route to business excellence. The Quality Management Journal 10(1): 43-57. 10. Ahn MJ, Adamson JSA, Dornbusch D (2004) Leaders to leadership: Managing change. Journal of Leadership and Organizational Studies 10(4): 112-123. 11. Sungkhawan J, Mujtaba BG, Swaidan Z, Kaweevisultrakul T (2012) Intrapreneurial Workplaces and Job Satisfaction: The Case of Thai Employees. Journal of Applied Business Research 28(4): 527-542. 12. Allegretti JG (2000) Loving your job finding your passion: work and the spiritual life. Paulist Press, USA. 13. Wolf F, Mujtaba BG (2011) Sustainability in Service Operations. International Journal of Information Systems in the Service Sector 3(1): 1-20. 14. Alon I, McAllaster C (2009) The Global Footprint of an MBA. Journal of Studies in International Education 13(4): 522-540. 15. Economy, Peter (2018) The employees speak. Florida, pp. 6D. 16. Eckfeldt, Bruce (2019) How leaders can avoid commitment issues. Florida, pp. 6D. 17. Gilbert, Mandy (2019) Boss Moves: 6 ways to be a better leader. Florida, pp. 5D. 18. Schwantes, Marcel (2019) Conflict Revolution. Florida, pp. 5D. 19. Schwantes, Marcel (2017) Time to Get Productive. Florida, p. 1. 20. Tullman, Howard (2019) Game Over.Florida, pp. 6D. 21. Noe RA, Hollenbeck JR, Gerhart B, Wright PM (2019) Human Resource Management: Gaining a Competitive Advantage. USA. 22. Cheng Tozun, Dorcas (2018) It is all about gratitude. Florida, USA. 23. Cohan, Peter (2018) Happiness is good for business. Florida, pp. 5D. 24. DesMarais, Christina (2017) Executives tell how they make it work. Florida, p. 1. 25. Morin, Amy (2018) Workplace Bully Behavior. Florida, pp. 5D. 26. Haden, Jeff (2017) Path to promotion. Florida, pp. 5D. 27. Thomas, Andrew (2017) Straight talk about success. Florida, pp. 5D. 28. Amdur, Eli (2017) Excellence is not an act but a habit. Bergen Record, Norway. 29. Boitnott, John (2017) 7 beliefs that hamper success – and how to change them. Florida. http://dx.doi.org/ 10.33552/SJRR.2020.02.000538 http://paper.researchbib.com/view/paper/205989 http://paper.researchbib.com/view/paper/205989 http://paper.researchbib.com/view/paper/205989 https://www.researchgate.net/publication/319672256_Policy-Making_Considerations_for_Ethical_and_Sustainable_Economic_Development https://www.researchgate.net/publication/319672256_Policy-Making_Considerations_for_Ethical_and_Sustainable_Economic_Development https://personalpages.manchester.ac.uk/staff/jian-bo.yang/JB%20Yang%20Journal_Papers/AbdelYangDale_in_QMJ.pdf https://personalpages.manchester.ac.uk/staff/jian-bo.yang/JB%20Yang%20Journal_Papers/AbdelYangDale_in_QMJ.pdf https://personalpages.manchester.ac.uk/staff/jian-bo.yang/JB%20Yang%20Journal_Papers/AbdelYangDale_in_QMJ.pdf https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258153123_From_Leaders_to_Leadership_Managing_Change https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258153123_From_Leaders_to_Leadership_Managing_Change https://www.researchgate.net/publication/258153123_From_Leaders_to_Leadership_Managing_Change https://clutejournals.com/index.php/JABR/article/view/7038 https://clutejournals.com/index.php/JABR/article/view/7038 https://clutejournals.com/index.php/JABR/article/view/7038 https://www.igi-global.com/article/sustainability-service-operations/50564 https://www.igi-global.com/article/sustainability-service-operations/50564 https://www.igi-global.com/article/sustainability-service-operations/50564 Strategies for Personal, Organizational and Professional Leadership Success Abstract Keywords Introduction Literature Review Findings and Recommendations Goal setting and achieving Education “Soft-Skills” Pleasant personality Common Sense Role Models Respect Self-Interest Stress Professionalism Risk-Taking “Good Luck” Leadership Formulas for Success Summary Appendix Acknowledgement Conflict of Interest References Figure 1 Figure 2 
work_fu6kmfk5frblza5v5qeq3xt26y	----	BOOK REVIEW George Santayana, The Genteel Tradition in American Philosophy and Character and Opinion in the United States Edited and with an Introduction by James Seaton. New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2009. 200pp. $16.00. ISBN-10: 0300116659; ISBN-13: 978-0300116656 Krzysztof (Chris) Piotr Skowronski Published online: 22 July 2010 # The Author(s) 2010. This article is published with open access at Springerlink.com The re-publishing of George Santayana’s two most signif- icant works on America and American culture in Rethink- ing the Western Tradition series makes a great deal of sense. Santayana (1863–1952), philosopher, best-selling author, poet, man of letters, and humanist, in his numerous books provided us not only with a system of philosophy but also with a profound criticism of Western culture. As a Spanish-American thinker, he skillfully applied his cultural in-betweenness, not to mention his genial insights, to make his readers reconsider the tradition of the Western World and the contemporary challenges that had to be faced. He devoted much attention to American culture and, in this regard, he shaped his thought predominantly in relation to transcendentalism (Ralph Waldo Emerson) and pragmatism (William James, Josiah Royce, John Dewey). It should be added, however, that Santayana also sought a redefinition of his native Spanish culture—so that his intellectual links with Generation 1898, Spain’s momentous philosophical and literary movement, have frequently been studied by Spanish scholars. Last but not least, he focused on other cultural issues in terms of their ethnic character, cultural background, and national context; thus, he wrote, for example, about egotism in German philosophy (in Egotism in German Philosophy, 1915), about the British character, German freedom (both in Soliloquies in England, 1922), English liberty and American character (both in Character and Opinion in The United States, 1920). The present volume presents an important part of Santayana’s cultural criticism of America, that is “The Genteel Tradition in American Philosophy” (1911) and Character and Opinion in the United States along with commenting essays by some excellent scholars. Although this is not all that Santayana had to say about America— his lengthy novel The Last Puritan (1935) should be remembered here in the first instance—, we can say that the present volume is rich enough to elaborately show Santayana’s approach to America and American culture in a broad and penetrating way. For example, we can read in these two works, Santayana’s attempt to re-interpret American culture by famously saying that “The American Will inhabits the sky-scraper; the American Intellect inhabits the colonial mansion. (…) The one is all aggressive enterprise; the other is all genteel tradition (p. 4).” His idea of “the Genteel Tradition,” as opposed to the “crude but vital America,” can be helpful in under- standing the American mind in the 19th century and at the beginning of the 20th century. What he witnessed upon his arrival in New England as a child in 1872, was the passage from the old genteel Boston to the new industrial one along with the growing split in values, aims, and experiences, the split he commented upon in his cultural criticism. Namely, there emerged a new type of American mentality, “the untrained, pushing, cosmopolitan orphan, cock-sure in manner but not too sure in his morality, to whom the old Yankee, with his sour integrity, is almost a foreigner (p. 30).” The American mentality became split because the old and noble categories of America’s high culture were applied to the new and down-to-earth challenges of the America of enterprise and expansion: “Was not ‘increase’ in the Bible, a synonym to ‘benefit’? Was not ‘abundance’ the same, or almost the same as happiness? (p. 30)” The present volume is the more interesting in that Santayana’s texts are copiously commented upon by some K. P. Skowronski (*) Instytut Filozofii, Uniwersytet Opolski, Ul., Katowicka 89, 45-061 Opole, Poland e-mail: skris69@yahoo.com Soc (2010) 47:468–470 DOI 10.1007/s12115-010-9359-6 excellent scholars and writers—James Seaton, Wilfred M. McClay, John Lachs, and Roger Kimball—so that it attractively provides the readers with more insight into Santayana and, at the same time, proposes some modes for the interpretation of Santayana’s ideas. Thanks to these essays following the main text, as well as the Introduction that is prior to it, we have a well balanced book; Santayana’s major texts on American culture are accompanied by the studies and comments that constitute more or less one third of the whole volume, and, which more importantly, are competently composed and clearly arranged. In the tersely and penetratingly written Introduction entitled “George Santayana—The Philosopher as Cultural Critic,” the editor of the volume, James Seaton, succinctly provides the readers with biographical data, including Santayana’s cosmopolitan background along with the American and Spanish traits in the history of his family; moreover, he pictures the contemporary philosophical scene on which he describes Santayana in relation to the major figures of American culture and philosophy (William James, Josiah Royce, John Dewey, Wallace Stevens, Stanley Fish) as well as those of Continental philosophy (Jacques Derrida, Henri Bergson) in order to place him on the philosophical stage and to detect the continuing relevance of his thought. Also, he presents in a very clear way some characteristics of Santayana’s cultural criticism, one of them being what I should call Santayana’s in- betweenness, that is his “unusual position as both an outsider and an insider in American society (p. xi).” All this makes Santayana’s analysis of American culture, especially those in Character and Opinion, as Seaton puts it, “a living portrait whose truth remains pertinent today (p. xxiv).” Indeed, Seaton provides examples for Santaya- na’s continuing relevance as a cultural critic. Thus, Seaton sketches William James’s anticipation of today’s multicul- turalism and recalls Stanley Fish’s ideas of “boutique multiculturalism” and “strong multiculturalism” so as to provide an interesting context for Santayana’s stance; here, especially inspiring seems to me Seaton’s analysis of the reasons for James’s multiculturalism and for Santayana’s skepticism to it as well as Santayana’s criticism of James for avoiding a clear articulation of his “liberal Protestant- ism” as being the moral, cultural, religious, and axiological basis for James’s pragmatism. James (and Royce) saw the world as a battlefield in which a constant fight between good and evil takes place; in this fight any neutrality—for example an aesthetic contemplation of the world as it is, along with the intellectual understanding of its various perfections (both of which Santayana advocated)—is hardly possible and everyone is required to choose sides. In Seaton’s other essay, “The Genteel Tradition and English Liberty,” he explains why we should go on thinking about Santayana’s idea of “the Genteel Tradition” many years after it factually lost its meaning. Seaton’s answer (interestingly vindicated) to this is, that “the parallel to the genteel tradition today is not with those whose moral views are based on their religious faith but rather with the postmodernist academic left, which has reprised the genteel tradition’s convenient but incongruous alliance of episte- mological skepticism with moral certainty (p. 164). I leave the reader to the author’s explanation, and pass, very briefly indeed, to the other essays in the volume. In his essay entitled “The Unclaimed legacy of George Santayana,” Wilfred M. McClay pays attention, among other things, to Santayana’s excellent and sophisticated style of writing along with his “astonish- ing facility in tapping the revelatory power of metaphor and simile (p. 123).” What McClay labels as “reflective literature (p. 124),” and what I should name as literary philosophy, is a kind of writing that touches philosophical issues by means of a literary form with this form having worth in itself. Santayana, as its masterful exemplar, can be put, in my view, side by side, with Michael de Montaigne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Marcel Proust. McClay rightly warns as against ignoring this dimension of Santayana’s works in the name of searching for some crude ideas and essential theses to be extracted from his works; having gained just the philosophical insight into his work, we will lose its literary charm, its reflective spirit, its sophisticated irony—very strong points in Santayana’s message. As regards Santayana’s criticism of America, a “broad-brush account of the American mind that Americans have never quite been able to muster for themselves (p. 124),” McClay explains the issue put forward in the title of his paper, that is, what is the unclaimed legacy of Santayana. Namely, it is his vantage point in observing America, that is “the detachment necessary to see American life without first accepting its premises (p. 129).” This means, that without America’s excitement about progress, success, activity, and pragma- tism Santayana could, and still can, propose an insight into the richness and the beauty of things that have long ago lost their social attraction and down-to-earth application. John Lachs, in an essay “Understanding America,” speculates why the representatives of conflicting nations, like Hindus and Pakistanis, Israelis and Palestinians, and Serbs and Croats, live non-violent lives in America. Interestingly, Santayana, says Lachs, can provide some part of the explanation, that is to say, his notions of absolute liberty and English liberty. The former allows no compromise, sees the infinite difference between right and wrong, and is ready to destroy all those who are unfaithful to the nation’s tradition; its despotism requires unhesitant patriotism and loyalty. The latter, however, so typical of America, “thrives on the spirit Soc (2010) 47:468–470 469 of compromise” (p. 152); its optimistic, cooperative, and tolerant character makes it possible for antagonized enemies in Europe or Asia to find a peaceful life, side by side each other, in America. Santayana could see this and, as Lachs puts it, he realized that the motivating force of American society has been its strong belief in hard work and in social progress within the community arranged according to the principles of English liberty (cf. 153). Finally, Roger Kimball in “Mental Hygiene and Good Manners: The Contribution of George Santayana,” asso- ciates, rightly in my view, Santayana’s observations and reflections devoted to America with Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America. Kimball is right in putting forward such a comparison, because, despite almost a half a century of difference in space between their (I mean: Tocqueville’s and Santayana’s) examinations of America as well in the character of these examinations and the national back- grounds of their authors, their conclusions strikingly dove- tail. Both outsiders, penetrating observers, and commentators of America’s cultural and political scene having their points of reference in high class, cultural and aristocratic Europe were impressed by America’s vitality, dynamism, energy and, on the other hand, her ability to generate a diluted culture and indifference to intellectualism. Let me conclude this short review by saying that Santayana saw America as an up-and-coming superpower. She started to become such at the very moment when Spain, Santayana’s beloved motherland (he never quit his Spanish citizenship), lost its imperial status in the Spanish- American War of 1898, and Santayana witnessed this being at Harvard as a freshly appointed assistant professor at the Philosophy Department at that time. As he saw the end of Imperial Spain, he also witnessed the nascence of Imperial America and, despite his harsh criticism, he also had much hope in her and much admiration, especially for her dynamism, optimism, vitality, and creativity, and the flexibility of the “social organization,” or the arrangement of the political life within American democracy. Since American values have become global nowadays, and the processes of Americanization have reached all the countries of the world, many particular aspects of American culture have become a universal issue to be discussed by non- Americans too. This way, understanding America is not just a challenge to Americans. I am positive that the present volume can be recommended to a broader audience than just Santayana scholars and even broader than American readers; hence, the book is recommended to all those—interested in philosophy, in cultural criticism, and the contemporary intellectual history—who live in all the places that have been influenced by America and the power of her culture. Open Access This article is distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial License which per- mits any noncommercial use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author(s) and source are credited. Krzysztof (Chris) Piotr Skowronski, PhD currently teaches Contem- porary Philosophy, Aesthetics, Cultural Anthropology, Polish Philosophy, and American Philosophy at the Institute of Philosophy, Opole University, Poland. He is author of, among other works, Values and Powers. Re- reading the Philosophy of American Pragmatism (Amsterdam-New York: Rodopi, 2009) and Santayana and America. Values, Liberties, Respon- sibility (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2007). 470 Soc (2010) 47:468–470 George Santayana, The Genteel Tradition in American Philosophy and Character and Opinion in the United States << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /None /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (Gray Gamma 2.2) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (ISO Coated v2 300% \050ECI\051) /sRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CannotEmbedFontPolicy /Error /CompatibilityLevel 1.3 /CompressObjects /Off /CompressPages true /ConvertImagesToIndexed true /PassThroughJPEGImages true /CreateJDFFile false /CreateJobTicket false /DefaultRenderingIntent /Perceptual /DetectBlends true /DetectCurves 0.0000 /ColorConversionStrategy /sRGB /DoThumbnails true /EmbedAllFonts true /EmbedOpenType false /ParseICCProfilesInComments true /EmbedJobOptions true /DSCReportingLevel 0 /EmitDSCWarnings false /EndPage -1 /ImageMemory 1048576 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work_g3g5mdvtivbzdfmpqvckmugkla	----	Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman•s face Journal of Plastic, Reconstructive & Aesthetic Surgery (2010) 63, 1825e1831 Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman’s face* Omar F. Husein*, Ali Sepehr, Rohit Garg, Mehdi Sina-Khadiv, Shilpa Gattu, Joshua Waltzman, Edward C. Wu, Mason Shieh, Gregory M. Heitmann, Samuel E. Galle Division of Facial Plastic & Reconstructive Surgery, The Department of Otolaryngology e Head & Neck Surgery, UC Irvine Medical Center, Orange, CA, USA Received 14 January 2009; accepted 28 October 2009 KEYWORDS Facial anthropometrics; Facial aesthetics; Facial photogrammatic analysis; Transcultural aesthetics; Facial self-esteem * All authors have complied with th submitted version of the paper and b published elsewhere nor submitted fo similar form, in English or in any othe there has not been any funding for th * Corresponding author: Tel.: þ1 50 E-mail address: tiffhusein@yahoo. 1748-6815/$ - see front matter ª 2009 Brit doi:10.1016/j.bjps.2009.10.032 Summary Background: This is the first study defining the facial anthropometric and aesthetic measurements in Indian American women (IAW). Methods: This is a prospective cohort study involving evaluation of facial photographs. Frontal, lateral and basal photographs were taken of IAW (n Z 102), and 30 anthropometric measure- ments were determined. Proportions were compared with published North American white women (NAWW) norms. Judges (n Z 6) evaluated the photographs for aesthetics using a visual analogue scale. Attractive IAW (top 15%) were compared with average IAW (remaining 85%) and average NAWW. All completed a facial self-esteem survey. Results: There were significant differences between IAW and NAWW in 25 of 30 facial measure- ments. Six measurements correlated with aesthetic scores: intercanthal distance, mouth width, nasolabial angle, midface height 2, ear length and nasal height. Attractive IAW had nine measurements approximating NAWW features, 15 measurements similar to average IAW values and two measurements distinct from both average IAW and average NAWW. Attractive IAW had higher facial self-esteem scores than average IAW. Conclusions: Facial measurements in IAW are much different from NAWW, and these results will assist in preoperative planning. Several features are correlated with attractiveness in IAW: larger and wider-set eyes, a smaller midface, a smaller nose with greater tip rotation, smaller ears and a larger mouth. Attractive IAW display many measurements typical of average IAW and several measurements that reflect average NAWW values. These results contribute to e instructions and do accept the conditions posed by JPRAS. They have seen and agreed to the ear responsibility for it. All contributors declare that this material is original and has been neither r publication simultaneously. If accepted, the paper will not be published elsewhere in the same or r language, without written consent of the copyright holder. There are no conflicts of interest, and is study. 9 474 9450. com (O.F. Husein). ish Association of Plastic, Reconstructive and Aesthetic Surgeons. Published by Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. mailto:tiffhusein@yahoo.com 1826 O.F. Husein et al. Figure 1 Facial soft tissue landma point; al, alare; al’, alar rim; c, co gonion; li, labrale inferioris; ls, lab superaurale; sb, subaurale; sn, sub concepts of transcultural aesthetics e for a minority ethnic group, facial beauty appears to be an assimilation of deep-rooted ethnic features with prevailing cultural traits and aesthetic standards. ª 2009 British Association of Plastic, Reconstructive and Aesthetic Surgeons. Published by Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. Anthropologists and clinicians have attempted for centuries to objectively comprehend the subjective concept of facial beauty. Renaissance artists emphasised that facial beauty is rooted in symmetric and balanced proportions.1 Their quantitative descriptions persisted as neoclassical canons, which are used in reconstructive facial analysis today.1 Much of the modern facial anthropometric data comes from Farkas’ work on North American white populations.2,3 Recent studies on African Americans, Hispanics, Chinese and Koreans have demonstrated facial proportions very distinct from these studies.4e7 Asian Indians are the second-fastest growing ethnic group in the United States.8 This study aimed to establish the facial anthropometric data in Indian American women (IAW) and compare with the data available for North American white women (NAWW). The null hypothesis was that there would not be any significant differences in facial measurements between IAW and NAWW. While some aspects of facial beauty are universal, other standards vary from culture to culture.9 One phenomenon is that average measurements and proportions represent beauty more than extreme values.10 But what happens when an ethnic minority lives in a society dominated with aesthetic stan- dards of the ethnic majority? Will beauty be the ‘average- ness’ of the minority or the ‘averageness’ of the majority group, or will it be a complex combination of the two? In a study comparing Korean American women to NAWW, 24 of 26 facial measurements were significantly different.7 Korean women judged to be attractive only had 9 of 26 measurements different than NAWW.7 The more the Korean rks demonstrated on frontal (A lumella point; ch, cheilion; en, rale superioris; n, nasion; pi, pa nasale; st, stomion; tr, trichion women looked like the average NAWW, the more beautiful they were perceived to be.7 This suggests that the aesthetic standards of a predominant culture contribute to what is considered beautiful for other ethnic groups. This study sought to determine if IAW judged to be attractive demonstrated measurements similar to NAWW. The null hypothesis was that attractive IAW would not generate anthropometric data significantly different than average IAW or NAWW norms. Methods This was a prospective cohort study of 102 IAW. Participants were aged 18e30 years with both parents of Indian descent. Subjects were excluded if they had a history of facial trauma or surgery. Digital photographs (Nikon 8700, Nikon Corp, Tokyo, Japan) were acquired in frontal, lateral and basal views. A metric ruler was included in each image for calibration of measurements. All subjects filled out a self-esteem survey. For each of 32 facial features, a score from 1 to 5 indicated the degree of like or dislike. Photographs were studied using Adobe Photoshop CS2 software (Adobe Systems, San Jose, CA, USA), and facial landmarks were identified (Figure 1). Subsequently, 30 anthropometric measurements were acquired. The results were compared with the data published for NAWW using an unpaired t test with the Welch correction. Next, five neo- classical canons were used to investigate how well the two groups fit each analysis.2,11 Proportional differences ), lateral (B), and basal (C) views.Abbreviations: ac, alar crease endocanthion; ex, exocanthion; g, glabella; gn, gnathion; go, lpebrae inferioris; ps, palpebrae superioris; pn, pronasale; sa, ; zy, zygion. Table 1 Comparison of Anthropometric Facial Measurements in Indian American and North American White Women Anthropometric Measure Mean (SD) Size Indian American (n Z 102) North American White (n Z 200) Mean Difference P Value total face height (tr-gn) 169.4 (13.3) 172.5 (7.5) �3.1 a 0.031 morphological face height (n-gn) 102.3 (8.7) 111.8 (5.2) �9.5 a<0.001 forehead height 1 (tr-g) 54.2 (6.3) 52.7 (6.0) 1.5 a 0.048 forehead height 2 (tr-n) 63.9 (7.4) 63.0 (6.0) 0.9 0.289 midface height 1 (g-sn) 58.1 (5.5) 63.1 (4.4) �5.0 a<0.001 midface height 2 (n-st) 65.0 (4.2) 69.4 (3.2) �4.4 a<0.001 lower face height (sn-gn) 57.8 (7.5) 64.3 (4.0) �6.5 a<0.001 midface width (zy-zy) 125.9 (10.1) 130.0 (4.6) �4.1 a<0.001 mandible width (go-go) 95.2 (11.0) 91.1 (5.9) 4.1 a<0.001 intercanthal width (en-en) 31.2 (3.7) 31.8 (2.3) �0.6 0.137 eye fissure width (ex-en) 30.6 (2.4) 30.7 (1.2) �0.1 0.693 eye fissure height (ps-pi) 9.2 (1.9) 10.9 (1.2) �1.7 a<0.001 canthal tilt, � 3.5 (2.2) 4.1 (2.2) �0.6 a 0.026 ear length (sa-sb) 58.6 (6.9) 59.6 (3.4) �1.0 0.170 ear incline angle, � 12.3 (4.7) 17.5 (4.6) �5.2 a<0.001 nasal height (n-sn) 45.6 (3.5) 50.6 (3.1) �5.0 a<0.001 nasal length (n-pn) 39.2 (3.9) 44.7 (3.4) �5.5 a<0.001 tip protrusion (sn-pn) 19.1 (2.0) 19.7 (1.6) �0.6 a 0.009 columella length (c-sn) 9.1 (1.9) 11.5 (1.7) �2.4 a<0.001 alar length (ac-pn) 29.2 (3.0) 31.5 (1.8) �2.3 a<0.001 alar thickness (al’-al’) 5.0 (0.9) 5.3 (0.7) �0.3 a 0.004 nasal width (al-al) 35.6 (3.3) 31.4 (2.0) 4.2 a<0.001 nasal base width (ac-ac) 31.9 (5.1) 30.5 (2.2) 1.4 a 0.009 mouth width (ch-ch) 51.1 (5.2) 50.2 (3.5) 0.9 0.117 upper lip height (sn-st) 18.6 (3.2) 20.1 (2.0) �1.5 a<0.001 upper lip thickness (ls-st) 8.3 (1.0) 8.7 (1.3) �0.4 a 0.003 lower lip thickness (li-st) 10.1 (1.3) 9.4 (1.5) 0.7 a<0.001 nasofrontal angle, � 138.2 (8.1) 134.3 (7.0) 3.9 a<0.001 nasofacial angle, � 31.8 (4.5) 29.9 (3.9) 1.9 a<0.001 nasolabial angle, � 97.2 (10.6) 104.2 (9.8) �7.0 a<0.001 Abbreviations: ac, alar crease point; al, alare; al’, alar rim; c, columella point; ch, cheilion; en, endocanthion; ex, exocanthion; g, glabella; gn, gnathion; go, gonion; li, labrale inferioris; ls, labrale superioris; n, nasion; pi, palpebrae inferioris; ps, palpebrae superioris; pn, pronasale; sa, superaurale; sb, subaurale; sn, subnasale; st, stomion; tr, trichion; zy, zygion. Unless otherwise noted, data are in millimeters. P Values based on unpaired t test with the Welch correction. a Statistically significant difference. Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman’s face 1827 between IAW and NAWW were determined using the two- tailed Fisher’s exact test. Indian American judges (three men and three women) evaluated subjects for aesthetics using a visual analogue scale from 1 to 10. Measurements for the most attractive 15% of IAW, the remaining (average) IAW and NAWW were quantitatively compared. Results Anthropometric facial measurements for IAW and norms for NAWW were compared (Table 1). Significant differences were found in 25 of 30 measurements. With respect to the five canons, all facial proportions were statistically different between IAW and NAWW (Table 2). In the aesthetic analysis, the mean score for all subjects was 5.5 (range: 1e10). Bivariate analysis revealed six measure- ments that correlated with higher aesthetic scores: shorter midface height 2, larger intercanthal distance, shorter ear length, shorter nasal height, larger mouth width and a larger nasolabial angle. Comparison showed four signifi- cant differences in the attractive group: shorter midface height 2, shorter nasal height, shorter nasal length and shorter ear length (Figure 2). When average IAW were analysed with NAWW, 26 of 30 measurements were statistically different. In comparing attractive IAW with NAWW, 17 of the 30 measurements were different (Table 3). Of the 17 differences, 15 of these had also been different when comparing all IAW with NAWW. Once separated from average IAW, analysis of attractive IAW revealed two measurements that became significantly different from NAWW: ear lengths and mouth widths. The average IAW group had a mean self-esteem score of 3.4 while the attractive group gave a mean score of 3.7 (p Z 0.039) (Table 4). The most common self-liked feature was ‘eyes’, and the most disliked feature was ‘nose’. When asked to report willingness to seek surgery to correct the feature most disliked, 32% stated affirmatively. Table 2 Neoclassical Facial Canon Measurements in Indian American and North American White Women Neoclassical Canon Indian American (n Z 102) North American White (n Z 102) P value Orbitonasal en-en < al-al 88 (86) 39 (38) en-en Z al-al 9 (9) 42 (41) a< 0.001 en-en > al-al 5 (5) 22 (21) Orbital en-en < ex-en 33 (32) 16 (16) en-en Z ex-en 21 (21) 34 (33) a 0.024 en-en > ex-en 48 (47) 53 (52) Naso-oral ch-ch < 1.5 x (al-al) 62 (61) 20 (19) ch-ch Z 1.5 x (al-al) 23 (22) 21 (20) a<0.001 ch-ch > 1.5 x (al-al) 17 (17) 62 (60) Nasofacial al-al < 0.25 x (zy-zy) 0 40 (39) al-al Z 0.25 x (zy-zy) 6 (6) 38 (37) a<0.001 al-al > 0.25 x (zy-zy) 96 (94) 25 (24) Horizontal thirds tr-g > sn-gn 27 (26) 0 tr-g Z sn-gn 15 (15) 0 a<0.001 tr-g < sn-gn 60 (59) 103 (100) g-sn > sn-gn 52 (51) 33 (32) g-sn Z sn-gn 12 (12) 0 a<0.001 g-sn < sn-gn 38 (37) 70 (68) g-sn > tr-g 68 (67) 95 (93) g-sn Z tr-g 12 (12) 0 a 0.002 g-sn < tr-g 22 (21) 8 (8) Actual % of total vertical height Upper third 32 29 Middle third 34 35 Lower third 34 36 Abbreviations: al, alare; ch, cheillion; en, endocanthion; ex, exocanthion; g, glabella; gn, gnathion; sn, subnasale; tr, tri- chion; zy, zygion. Unless otherwise noted, data are number (percentage) of subjects. P values based on 2-tailed Fisher exact test. a Statistically significant difference. 1828 O.F. Husein et al. Discussion The concept of facial attractiveness is a complex assimi- lation of innate perceptions and cultural stereotypes.12 In multiple cultures, young children gaze longer at attractive faces, suggesting that some perceptions of attractiveness are genetic in origin and are cross-cultural.13 Darwin noted that responses to facial expressions are instinctive, as he wrote that grief is interpreted by ‘Europeans in exactly the same way as. the Aboriginal hill tribes of India.’14 Others have discovered the principle of ‘averageness in beauty’, in that attractive faces will be symmetric and closer to the mean of the population.10 One goal was to elucidate mean standards of facial anthropometrics for a growing ethnic group that had yet to be studied e IAW. When compared with established data for NAWW, several differences were revealed.2,3 IAW had a larger forehead, a smaller midface, a smaller lower face, a shorter vertical face height, a narrower midface and a wider lower face. IAW faces demonstrated a wider naso- frontal angle, a wider nasofacial angle and a more acute nasolabial angle. The average IAW face also had smaller eyes and less-inclined ears. The upper lip was shorter and thinner while the lower lip was thicker. The IAW nose overall was smaller but wider. The null hypothesis was rejected, as the majority of facial anthropometric measurements were significantly different between IAW and NAWW. The neoclassical canons of facial proportions were devised during the Renaissance era and are still used to guide surgeons today.6,11 In this study, 9% of IAW validated the orbitonasal canon, which states that the nasal width equals the intercanthal distance. The vast majority (86%) had a nose that was wider than the interorbital measure- ment. Similarly, 22% of IAW validated the naso-oral canon and only 6% validated the nasofacial canon. In these anal- yses, it was most common for the nose to be wider than recommended for the mouth and midface. However, most IAW have noses that are wider than other facial measure- ments e this is not a disproportion, and so these canons are determined to be invalid for IAW. The orbital canon purports that the width of the eye should be equivalent to the intercanthal distance, and this was valid in 21%. For some IAW the measurements will be equal, for some the eye will be larger (32%) and for some the interorbital distance will be larger (47%). IAW had a better fit to the canon of horizontal thirds than NAWW. For average IAW, the length of the midface (34%) was nearly equivalent to the length of the lower face (34%) and the length of the upper third (32%) was slightly shorter e an almost perfect 1/3e1/3e1/3 proportion. By comparison, the NAWW face demonstrated a lower third that was the longest (36%) with a slightly shorter middle third (35%) and a much shorter upper third (29%). For all five neoclassical canons, the null hypothesis was rejected, as IAW demon- strated facial proportions distinct from NAWW. The aesthetic analysis revealed that judges preferred IAW who had larger and wider-set eyes, a larger mouth, a smaller midface, smaller ears and a smaller nose with greater tip rotation. Average IAW were significantly different than NAWW in 26 of 30 measurements. However, attractive IAW differed from NAWW norms in 17 of 30 measurements. One initial hypothesis was that since the subjects and judges lived in North America, IAW would be perceived as attractive if they demonstrated facial attri- butes of the dominant ethnic group. In this study, this hypothesis was true for many but not all measurements. Compared with average IAW, attractive IAW approximated NAWW norms in nine measurements (Table 3). There were two measurements that were not significant differences when comparing average IAW to NAWW but became signif- icant when comparing attractive IAW to NAWW: ear length and mouth width. Attractive IAW had smaller ears and wider mouths, and these measurements moved away from the white norms. From these results, it is appreciated that transcultural aesthetics involve an intertwining of minority ethnic features with majority ethnic traits. The null hypothesis was rejected, as attractive IAW demonstrated Figure 2 The same subject was computer morphed using measurements obtained for the average group (A, C, & E) and measurements obtained for the attractive group (B, D, & F). Note the following in the attractive face compared to the average face: wider eyes, larger intercanthal distance, greater canthal tilt, wider midface, smaller ears, smaller nose, less nasal tip projection but longer columella, larger nasolabial angle, wider mouth, longer upper lip, and longer lower third of the face. Only some of these were statistically significant differences (see text). Abbreviations: NFT, nasofrontal; NFL, nasofacial; NL, nasolabial. Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman’s face 1829 anthropometric measurements that were different from both average IAW and average NAWW. In this study, women judged to be attractive reported higher self-esteem scores than the other women. Several other studies have demonstrated this phenomenon e attractive individuals usually perceive that others think they are attractive and consider themselves to be attrac- tive (higher self-esteem).15 The eyes were the feature most self-liked in this study. This correlates with the perception that Indian women are often ‘known’ for their beautiful Table 3 Comparison of Anthropometric Facial Measurements in Attractive and Average Indian American Women to North American White Women Anthropometric Measure North American White Women (n Z 200) Attractive Indian American Women (n Z 16) Mean Difference P Value Average Indian American Women (n Z 86) Mean Difference P Value total face height (tr-gn) 172.5 (7.5) 169.9 (13.3) �2.6 0.439 169.3 (13.4) �3.2 a 0.040 morphological face height (n-gn) 111.8 (5.2) 103.6 (9.5) �8.2 a 0.004 102.1 (8.5) �9.7 a<0.001 forehead height 1 (tr-g) 52.7 (6.0) 53.5 (5.1) 0.8 0.559 54.3 (6.5) 1.6 a 0.045 forehead height 2 (tr-n) 63.0 (6.0) 63.4 (6.5) 0.4 0.815 64 (7.6) 1.0 0.281 midface height 1 (g-sn) 63.1 (4.4) 58.7 (6.6) �4.4 a 0.019 57.9 (5.2) �5.2 a<0.001 midface height 2 (n-st) 69.4 (3.2) 63.1 (3.4) �6.3 a<0.001 65.4 (4.2) �4.0 a<0.001 lower face height (sn-gn) 64.3 (4.0) 60.0 (8.9) �4.3 0.075 57.4 (7.1) �6.9 a<0.001 midface width (zy-zy) 130.0 (4.6) 128.4 (7.4) �1.6 0.408 125.5 (10.4) �4.5 a<0.001 mandible width (go-go) 91.1 (5.9) 95.2 (11.1) 4.1 a 0.015 94.5 (10.3) 3.4 a 0.005 intercanthal width (en-en) 31.8 (2.3) 32.5 (3.5) 0.7 0.443 31.0 (3.7) �0.8 a 0.027 eye fissure width (ex-en) 30.7 (1.2) 31.4 (1.8) 0.7 0.146 30.4 (2.5) �0.3 0.291 eye fissure height (ps-pi) 10.9 (1.2) 8.9 (1.6) �2.0 a<0.001 9.1 (1.8) �1.8 a<0.001 canthal tilt, � 4.1 (2.2) 4.1 (2.7) 0.0 1.000 3.4 (2.7) �0.7 a 0.036 ear length (sa-sb) 59.6 (3.4) 54.5 (3.6) �5.1 a<0.001 58.7 (4.6) �0.9 0.105 ear incline angle, � 17.5 (4.6) 11.3 (5.3) �6.2 a<0.001 12.2 (4.4) �5.3 a<0.001 nasal height (n-sn) 50.6 (3.1) 43.3 (2.8) �7.3 a<0.001 46.0 (3.5) �4.6 a<0.001 nasal length (n-pn) 44.7 (3.4) 36.4 (3.1) �8.3 a<0.001 39.7 (3.8) �5.0 a<0.001 tip protrusion (sn-pn) 19.7 (1.6) 18.3 (1.3) �1.4 a<0.001 19.2 (2.1) �0.5 a 0.029 columella length (c-sn) 11.5 (1.7) 9.7 (1.4) �1.8 a<0.001 8.9 (1.9) �2.6 a<0.001 alar length (ac-pn) 31.5 (1.8) 28.4 (2.7) �3.1 a<0.001 29.3 (3.0) �2.2 a<0.001 alar thickness (al’-al’) 5.3 (0.7) 4.8 (0.9) �0.5 a 0.045 5.1 (0.9) �0.2 a 0.044 nasal width (al-al) 31.4 (2.0) 35.4 (3.3) 4.0 a<0.001 35.7 (3.3) 4.3 a<0.001 nasal base width (ac-ac) 30.5 (2.2) 31.6 (3.7) 1.1 0.259 32.0 (5.4) 1.5 a 0.015 mouth width (ch-ch) 50.2 (3.5) 52.9 (5.8) 2.7 a 0.006 50.8 (5.0) 0.6 0.314 upper lip height (sn-st) 20.1 (2.0) 19.4 (3.5) �0.7 0.442 18.4 (3.2) �1.7 a<0.001 upper lip thickness (ls-st) 8.7 (1.3) 8.3 (1.0) �0.4 0.150 8.2 (1.0) �0.5 a<0.001 lower lip thickness (li-st) 9.4 (1.5) 9.9 (1.3) 0.5 0.161 10.1 (1.3) 0.7 a<0.001 nasofrontal angle, � 134.3 (7.0) 138.3 (7.7) 4.0 a 0.030 138.2 (8.1) 3.9 a<0.001 nasofacial angle, � 29.9 (3.9) 32.5 (5.7) 2.6 a 0.014 31.6 (4.2) 1.7 a<0.001 nasolabial angle, � 104.2 (9.8) 101.3 (5.5) �2.9 0.072 96.5 (11.3) �7.7 a<0.001 Abbreviations: ac, alar crease point; al, alare; al’, alar rim; c, columella point; ch, cheilion; en, endocanthion; ex, exocanthion; g, glabella; gn, gnathion; go, gonion; li, labrale inferioris; ls, labrale superioris; n, nasion; pi, palpebrae inferioris; ps, palpebrae superioris; pn, pronasale; sa, superaurale; sb, subaurale; sn, subnasale; st, stomion; tr, trichion; zy, zygion. P Values based on unpaired t test with the Welch correction. Unless otherwise noted, data are mean (SD) measurements in millimeters. a Statistically significant difference. 1830 O.F. Husein et al. eyes. An explanation may be that Indian women have a higher eye width/midface width ratio, leading to a greater focus of observers on the eyes. The white sclera produces a striking contrast with the darker Indian skin, again highlighting the eye relative to other facial features. Many plastic procedures strive to change the size or posi- tion of an unharmonious feature to divert attention back to the eyes e reduction rhinoplasty, blepharoplasty and browlift are examples. The majority of women reported the nose as the feature most thought of as unattractive. It is known that rhinoplasty is the most common procedure in ethnic minority groups.16 In this study, approximately one-third of women stated they would consider surgery to change a disliked facial feature. Most minority individuals seek to maintain their ethnicity through cosmetic surgeries.4,5,7 It can be assumed that IAW would also desire to preserve their ethnic identity. As support for this, it was observed that 24% of women were wearing nose rings. Nostril piercing is a practice associated with India e these piercings are regarded as a mark of beauty and high social standing.17 As seen, many Indian American women living in the United States continue to wear nose rings, a visible and overt display of ethnic identity. Facial analysis, using anthropometric proportions as a guide, is paramount for planning cosmetic and recon- structive facial surgery. This study is the first to provide an anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian Amer- ican woman’s face. Several features were correlated with attractiveness: larger and wider-set eyes, a smaller mid- face, a smaller nose, smaller ears and a larger mouth. In this study, attractive IAW, average IAW and average NAWW all had significant differences for various facial anthropo- metric measurements. These results contribute to several concepts of trans- cultural aesthetics e for a minority ethnic group, facial beauty appears to be an assimilation of deep-rooted ethnic Table 4 Indian American Women Self-Esteem Survey Results Attractive Average P Value Mean Self-Esteem Score (range: 1e5) 3.7 3.4 a 0.039 Number (%) Willing to Seek Facial 4 (25%) 29 (34%) 0.573 Plastic Surgery total: 33 (32%) Percentage Overall Most Liked Facial Features Eyes 78 Eyebrows 40 Teeth 25 Overall Most Disliked Facial Features Nose 53 Teeth 21 Chin 15 P Values based on unpaired t test. a Statistically significant difference. Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman’s face 1831 features with the prevailing cultural traits and aesthetic standards. The importance of elucidating modern concepts of facial beauty is becoming increasingly understood. Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson (known as the first American to champion the wisdom of ancient India) summed it up best when he said, ‘If eyes were made for seeing, then beauty is its own excuse for being.’18 Conflict of interest, funding and ethical approval statement There are no conflicts of interest to disclose. There are no personal relationships of any author with any organisation. No one has any financial interest in this publication, and there has been no funding for this study. This study was given ethical approval by the Institutional Review Board of the University of California, Irvine. References 1. Edler RS. Background considerations to facial aesthetics. J Orthod 2001;28:159e68. 2. Farkas LG, Hreczko TA, Kolar JC, et al. Vertical and horizontal proportions of the face in young adult North American Cauca- sians: revision of neoclassical canons. Plast Reconstr Surg 1985; 75:328e38. 3. Farkas LG, Katic MJ, Forrest CR. International anthropometric study of facial morphology in various ethnic groups/races. J Craniofac Surg 2005;16:615e46. 4. Porter JP, Olson KL. Anthropometric facial analysis of the African American woman. Arch Facial Plast Surg 2001;3:191e7. 5. Milgrim LM, Lawson W, Cohen AF. Anthropometric analysis of the female Latino nose. Revised aesthetic concepts and their surgical implications. Arch Otolaryngol Head Neck Surg 1996; 122:1979e86. 6. Dawei W, Guozheng Q, Mingli Z, et al. Differences in hori- zontal, neoclassical facial canons in Chinese (Han) and North- American Caucasian populations. Aesth Plast Surg 1997;21: 265e9. 7. Choe KS, Sclafani AS, Litner JA, et al. The Korean-American woman’s face: anthropometric measurements and quantitative analysis of facial aesthetics. Arch Facial Plast Surg 2004;6: 244e52. 8. U.S. Census Bureau. Avaliable at: http://www.census.gov; 1995. 9. Bernstein IH, Lin TD, McClellan P. Cross- vs within-racial judgments of attractiveness. Percept Psychophys 1982;32: 495e503. 10. Grammer K, Thornhill R. Human (Homo sapiens) facial attrac- tiveness and sexual selection: the role of symmetry and aver- ageness. J Comp Psychol 1994;108:233e42. 11. Powell N, Humphries B. Proportions of the aesthetic face. New York, NY: Thieme-Stratton Inc; 1984. 12. Cunningham MR. Measuring the physical in physical attrac- tiveness: quasi-experiments on the sociobiology of female facial beauty. J Pers Soc Psychol 1986;50:925e35. 13. Langlois JH, Roggman LA, Casey RJ, et al. Infant preferences for attractive faces: rudiments of a stereotype? Dev Psychol 1987;23:363e9. 14. Darwin C. The expression of the emotions in man and animals. London, UK: Harper Collins; 1872. 1998:176e:194. 15. Strzalko J, Kaszycka KA. Physical attractiveness: interpersonal and intrapersonal variability of assessments. Soc Biol. 1991;39: 170e6. 16. Cooper LP. Dramatic rise in ethnic plastic surgery in 2005. Avaliable at:. Medical News Today http://www.medical newstoday.com/articles/39814.php; 18 Mar 2006. 17. Niptoon. Nostril piercing. Avaliable at: WordPress.com http:// nicebodypiercing.wordpress.com; 24 Apr 2008. 18. Emerson RW. The Rhodora. In: Lounsbury TR, editor. Yale Book of American Verse. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press; 1847. 1999. http://www.census.gov http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/39814.php http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/39814.php http://nicebodypiercing.wordpress.com http://nicebodypiercing.wordpress.com Anthropometric and aesthetic analysis of the Indian American woman’s face Methods Results Discussion Conflict of interest, funding and ethical approval statement References 
work_g4o5rgt5bbahlop7vjb5gzxlz4	----	Greetings from the New Editor EDITORIAL Greetings from the New Editor Michael Diringer1 Published online: 22 January 2018 � Springer Science+Business Media, LLC, part of Springer Nature 2018 I am excited and grateful to have been selected to be the second Editor-in-Chief of Neurocritical Care. It is a bit daunting to accept the reins from someone who had the vision to create this journal, the drive to bring it to fruition, and the dedication and hard work needed to manage it. My personal measure of success will be, to borrow from Ralph Waldo Emerson, for the journal to win the respect of intelligent people. Moving forward, I would like to share my thoughts on the role the journal plays and how it will evolve. I envision that, as the official journal of the Neurocritical Care Society, Neurocritical Care will be the primary source for presenting scientific investigations, critical analysis, and informed discussion of issues addressing the care of the patients we serve. It will serve as an international forum for the exchange of ideas, information, and strategies that address the major challenges facing our field. Readers will turn to the journal to inform immediate care decisions, deepen knowledge, and advance further scientific discov- ery. Finally, it will take an active role in educating its readers about how to interpret the literature. The journal serves several constituencies. First and foremost its readers, especially the members of the Neur- ocritical Care Society, followed closely by its authors. Others include our patients, the scientific community and the publisher. Each has different interests, goals and motivations for interacting with the journal that are not always in concert. Readers seek fresh and exciting infor- mation that advances the care of their patients and to better understand how to interpret the material they are being presented. Authors seek an easy submission and review process, strive to get their work reported in a prestigious journal, and demonstrate their academic productivity. Our patients and the scientific community demand rigor and integrity to ensure that high quality work is presented. My goal is to achieve some balance between these competing goals. In this age of rating scales, the Impact Factor has been the go-to metric for assessing journals. Yet it hardly captures the range of factors that make a journal successful and is subject to manipulation. It discourages publishing papers from early career investigators, along with educational and other material that is of interest to the readers but not necessarily citable. Other scales are being developed that may broaden the scope of evaluation; time will tell. However, as the journal evolves, my focus will be serving its constituencies rather than a rating scale. Over the next several issues, a number of changes will be implemented. In this issue the editorial board has been refreshed, article types and requirements revised, and the page layout modified. Soon the cover will have a new look. An article will be selected in each issue as a feature article. The education focus will include more commentaries on articles, discussions on how to interpret the literature, debate of current controversies, and news and updates from the Neurocritical Care Society. Reviewers are the backbone of the peer review process. They volunteer their time and energy with no compensa- tion. Without them, we could not function, yet no means of rewarding their efforts currently exists. As a first step in that direction, we will be awarding prizes to top reviewers and sending letters to each reviewer’s employer acknowl- edging their hard work and urging that it be considered when evaluating their performance. I look forward to being able to build upon the strong foundation laid by Dr. Wijdicks. Medicine and the medical literature are going through a period of enormous change, and I am grateful for and challenged by the opportunity to lead our journal during these interesting times. & Michael Diringer diringerm@wustl.edu 1 Department of Neurology, Washington University in Saint Louis, St Louis, MO, USA Neurocritical Care (2018) 28:1 https://doi.org/10.1007/s12028-018-0504-1(0123456789().,-volV)(0123456789().,-volV) http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s12028-018-0504-1&amp;domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s12028-018-0504-1&amp;domain=pdf https://doi.org/10.1007/s12028-018-0504-1 Greetings from the New Editor 
work_g4bxfgybu5eipofxwezi2mxjfa	----	A major new work by Harold Bloom /' Photo by Kunio Masuko Wallace Slew The Poems of Our Climate Certain to be widely read and discussed, this long-awaited new book by one of our leading literary scholars is at once the fullest and most detailed guide to Stevens’ poetic canon and a significant addition to the literature on the American Romantic movement. The product of twenty years of meditating, thinking and writing about Stevens, this remarkable work represents a brilliant extension of Bloom’s theories of literary interpretation. $17.50 The Art of Abstraction By PHILIP E. LEWIS. 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Selected Poems of Tudor Arghezi Translated by Michael Impey and Brian Swann "Literary critics unanimously agree that Tudor Arghezi is the greatest Romanian poet of this century and ranks among the most original European poets of our time. His poetry has been little known outside Romania, and the difficulties of translat- ing it are tremendous. Selected Poems of Tudor Arghezi represents a splendid po- etic accomplishment. Through it the English-speaking public will discover a great modern poet."—Mircea Eliade • The Lockert Library of Poetry in Translation Cloth, $16.50 • Paper, $5.95 The Echoing Wood of Theodore Roethke Jenijoy La Belle "Anyone at all interested in American poetry can read this book with great pleasure, and it will be difficult for any- one commenting on Roethke's work in the future to avoid using and dealing with the insights of Professor La Belle. This is an important piece of criti- cism."—David Wagoner, University of Washington • Princeton Essays in Literature $11.50 Spenser's Allegory The Anatomy of Imagination Isabel G. MacCaffrey "This book presents the first thorough treatment of the imagination as a major motif in The Faerie Queene and a new ar- gument about the nature of Spenser's al- legory. It admirably combines a sophisti- cated and plausible argument about how to read Spenser's poetry with a sustained account of the whole poem."—Paul Alpers, University of California Cloth, $25.00 • Limited Paperback Edi- tion, $10.50 The Situation of Poetry Contemporary Poetry and Its Traditions Robert Pinsky Robert Pinsky writes about contemporary poetry as it reflects its modernist and Romantic past and focuses on the conflict the poet faces between the nature of words and poetic forms on one side, and the nature of experience on the other. "Robert Pinsky belongs to that rarest cat- egory of talents, a poet-critic."—Robert Lowell • "A first-rate piece of work. I can't imagine anyone capable of reading this book and not learning from it."—Hugh Kenner • Princeton Essays in Literature $11.50 Keats The Religious Sense Robert M. Ryan Providing new information concerning the poet's education and the influence of his friends, Robert Ryan reconstructs the historical, social, and intellectual envi- ronment that fostered Keats's religious convictions and describes the faith he adopted for himself. The subject of the poet's religious beliefs has never before been thoroughly examined. $14.50 The Analogy of The Faerie Queene James Nohmberg "This book is of major importance. It provides a unified commentary on The Faerie Queene, the most ambitious that has yet been attempted. Anyone interested in Renaissance literature will turn to it. Its scholarship is at times awesome, at times overwhelming."—A.C. Hamilton, Queen's University 835 pages • $40.00 The Great Feast of Language in Love's Labour's Lost William C. Carroll This book contends that in Love's Labour's Lost Shakespeare sought to discover the ways in which the imagination uses and abuses language. "William Carroll's writ- ing is as graceful and entertaining as it is substantial and concise. I'm sure this will be the definitive study of an important early play for some time to come." —David Young, Oberlin College $15.00 "The Survivor" and Other Poems Tadeusz Rozewicz Translated and Introduced by Magnus J. Krynski and Robert A. Maguire Here, in a bilingual edition, are more than forty poems by Poland's most im- portant living poet and playwright. They have been chosen to convey a sense of Rozewicz's style and themes, and they cover his career from the mid-1940s to the present. Almost all are translated into English for the first time. An introductory essay describes the poet's life and central concerns. The Lockert Library of Poetry in Translation Cloth, $12.50 • Paper, $3.95 Bum Down the Icons Poems Grace Schulman "So steady in vision, so congenial in human association, so fluent and inven- tive in language, Grace Schulman renews our faith in ourselves and in the language we use for finding each other."—William Stafford • "There are poems in this first book that bear reading over and over, remarkable for the sense they convey of a transcendent force at work in them. . . . This book will take its place in the main- stream of American sensibility."—David Ignatow • Princeton Series of Contemporary Poets Cloth, $7.50 • Paper, $3.95 Write for our new Language and Literature Catalogue. PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS Princeton, New Jersey 08540 The Genesis of Ezra Pound's Cantos Ronald Bush "Most studies of Pound's development during this period have focused on the early poetry as a preparation for the Can- tos. But Bush considers the growth of Pound's early Cantos in a much broader context, examining Pound's indebted- ness to his literary predecessors in addi- tion to models provided by contemporary painting, music, economics, and history. His work gives a broad picture of the age, clarifies the structure of the Cantos as a whole, and sheds new light on Pound's poetics."—Stuart Y. McDougal, University of Michigan $16.50 Poetic Form in Blake's Milton Susan Fox Blake's two finished epics have been widely regarded as combinations of bril- liant set pieces which yield to no system- atic rhetorical criticism. Fox contests this view, discovering in Milton an elaborate verbal structure that is fully congruent with the poem's philosophy. She has made the first full exposition of the for- mal principles of a late Blake poem, and it suggests that the late prophecies are as profound in their artistic structures as they are in their thematic ones. "An im- mensely challenging critical job, trium- phantly achieved."—David V. Erdman, SUNY $13.50 Now in Paperback Blake: Prophet Against Empire A Poet's Interpretation of the History of His Own Times DAVID V. ERDMAN $5.95 • (Cloth, $20.00) CHRISTIAN RITUAL AND THE WORLD OF SHAKESPEARE’S TRAGEDIES Herbert R. Coursen, Jr. This study suggests how received religious tradition informs the drama, especially how ritual deepens an audience’s response to the events on stage. $18 gg THE MYSTICAL DESIGN OF PARADISE LOST Galbraith Miller Crump The author examines elements of style, structure, and content at the mystical level and relates the poem to the tradition of allegorical writing derived from biblical exegesis. Selected by Choice as an Outstanding Academic Book of 1975. $10 qq THE COMPLETE NARRATIVE PROSE OF CONRAD FERDINAND MEYER Translated by George F. Folkers, David B. Dickens, and Marion W. Sonnen- feld. Introduction by George F. Folkers Meyer, a prominent figure in German literature and one of the most important Swiss writers, was a master of realistic prose. These volumes are the first to make the entire body of his prose—eleven novellas—available in English. £ volumes each $22 50 THE LITERATURE OF COMMITMENT Charles I. Glicksberg Many of the writers attracted to Marxism during the Depression later repudiated their faith. The author explores the reasons why this euphoria of commitment gave way to disillusion- ment $21.50 THE LITERATURE OF NIHILISM Charles I. Glicksberg “A masterly thematic survey of post-Nietzschean Western writers . . .”—Choice. $17.50 THE LATER POETRY OF WALLACE STEVENS: Phenomenological Parallels with Husserl and Heidegger Thomas J. Hines While finding no direct influence, Hines shows how affinities between Stevens and the phenomenological methods of Husserl and Heidegger reveal the richness of the poet’s thought and the philosophical bent of his poetry. $18 gg WALLACE STEVENS: A World of Transforming Shapes Alan Perlis The guiding thesis of this book is that Stevens is a poet of transformation: that he transforms the perceived external world into the shapes of imaginary constructs. gg gg “SHIFTING WORLD”: Social Change & Nostalgia in the American Novel David C. Stineback Basing his analysis on ten American novels, David Stineback tries to invoke “a sense of the sense of the past” and to show how it has led both to understanding of historical processes and to emotional burdens. g-| -| gg BUCKNELL UNIVERSITY PRESS Lewisburg, Pennsylvania 17837 options trow Here are more reasons why NEW AMERICAN LIBRARY leads all other paperback publishers in adoptions for col- lege courses. 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A major contribution to this growing recognition, Victor Strandberg’s appreciative study provides close analyses of individual poems and of the development of Warren’s principal themes: the passage from innocence into “the world’s stew” of time and loss; the sudden discovery of the depraved, “dirty” self which this passage brings; and the final “mystic osmosis of being” whereby the warring elements of human personality are unified. After reviewing critical opinion of Warren’s work, Mr. Strandberg concludes that Warren’s half-century of poetic achievement places him “among the finest and most fertile talents of his age.” ISBN 0-8131-1347-4 / $9.95 Lorca’s “Poet in New York” The Tall into Consciousness BETTY JEAN CRAIGE Attracting considerable attention when it was published, Lorca’s Poet in New York was viewed by many as an experiment in Surrealism that failed to measure up to Lorca’s other work. Through an analysis of imagery and theme, this original and comprehensive study argues that Poet in New York exhibits no radical departure from Lorca’s usual symbolic mode but rather a change in form expressive of the poet’s alienation from society and nature. This alienation is represented in the overall metaphor of the fall of man, and the author traces the progression from the fall to reconciliation with nature through a sequence of spatial (hence static) to temporal imagery. Studies in Romance Languages , no . 15 ISBN 0-8131-1349-0 / $11.00sp The Book of Count Lucanor & Patronio A Translation of Don Juan Manuel’s El Conde Lucanor Translated & edited by JOHN E. KELLER & L. CLARK KEATING One of the great classics of Spanish literature, El Conde Lucanor o Libro de Patronio here is given its first translation from Spanish directly into English. These fifty-one didactic and recreational tales— which represent medieval Spanish prose fiction at its finest—depict the entire spectrum of medieval Spanish society with such grace and skill that, as the translators say, “neither their medieval setting nor their roots in ideas and ideals of a bygone era destroy their charm.” Studies in Romance Languages , no . 16 ISBN 0-8131-1350-4 / $15.50sp Coffin Hollow & Other Ghost Tales RUTH ANN MUSICK Foreword by WILLIAM HUGH JANSEN This volume of 96 ghost tales is certain to delight both the professional folklorist and the general reader. Collected for the most part in West Virginia, these tales bear an unmistakable Appalachian flavor which gives them a special appeal. Set in remote cabins and coal mines, in hidden hollows and on mountain tops, some of the tales hark back to the days when the state was first settled and Indians still threatened. Many are set in slave times and reflect the Civil War bitterness of a divided state. 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For further details write to: The Director Summer Programs 27, place de l’Universite British Studies Centre 13625—Aix-en-Provence ALSO Canterbury, England: “Literary Canterbury” France ITALIAN GERMAN SPANISH Newspaper and Periodical Subscriptions EUROPEAN PUBLISHERS REPRESENTATIVES Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 BRITISH MAGAZINES BRITISH PUBLICATIONS Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 ITALIAN BOOKS ITALIAN PUBLICATIONS Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 *Free catalogues available upon request. New from Princeton Archetypal Images in Creek Religion Volume 2: Dionysos o#o Archetypal Image of Indestructible Life C. Kerenyi Translated by Ralph Manheim From a wealth of Greek literary, epigraphic, and monumental traditions, Kerenyi pre- sents a historical account of the religion of Dionysos from its origins in the Minoan cul- ture down to its transition to a cosmopolitan religion of the late Roman Empire. Always underlining the constitutive element of myth, the author constructs a picture of Dionysian worship in Crete, Asia Minor, and Greece. Bollingen Series LXV: 2 • 400 pages • lllus. • $30.00 Epic Geography James Joyce's Ulysses Michael A. Seidel Reopening the question of Homeric design in Joyce's novel, Seidel proposes that places, movement, and directions are deeply implicated in the narrative structure of Ulysses. “This book deserves careful at- tention as a wholly new departure. Com- mentators have used Dublin maps before, but never have they compared them with the Odysseus map derived from Berard. That the dangerous direction is north-west in both works is an observation that proves to unlock a wholly new sequence of insights."—Hugh Kenner $14.50 The Fantastic in Literature Eric S. Rabkin To define the nature of fantasy and the fan- tastic, Rabkin considers its role in fairy tales, science fiction, detective stories, and reli- gious allegory, as well as in traditional liter- ature. Through a comparison of different genres of fantastic literature, and by draw- ing on studies in psychology and art, the au- thor shows that the fantastic represents a mode of human knowing, one used to probe wishes and dreams and to reshape the world in which we live. $12.50 The Figure of Faust in Valery and Goethe An Exegesis of Mon Faust Kurt Weinberg This book interprets Mon Faust and ex- plores the differences between Valery's and Goethe's treatments of the Faust figure. The author shows by close analysis how Valery opposes a Cartesian, anti-Pascalian Faust to Goethe's romantically flawed hero. Throughout the book Weinberg explores Valery's linguistic experimentation, which, through charades, paranomasia, onomas- tics, and etymological puns, brings into full play the mystifying and mythologizing as- pects of language. Princeton Essays in Liter- ature • $14.50 Hemingway's First War The Making of A Farewell to Arms Michael S. Reynolds "This book is the very model of what such a study should be: fresh, thorough, thought- ful, beautifully factual, alertly interpretive, and wonderfully revealing throughout. One reads it with a constant sense of enrich- ment; one lays it down with a satisfied con- viction that everything which has long needed saying about this great novel has now been stated with economy and force.''—Carlos Baker $13.50 Prudentius' Psychomachia A Reexamination Macklin Smith Prudentius' Psychomachia, written about A.D. 405, has been studied by classicists, medievalists, and general literary historians. Nevertheless, scholars have barely explored the allegory's inner workings or related it to its historical context. The present study remedies this critical neglect and its attend- ant misreadings. "This fine analysis of the Psychomachia will provide the English reader with a great deal of background in- formation he cannot get in any other single volume."—loan M. Ferrante, Columbia University $17.50 The Familiar Letter as a Literary Genre in the Age of Pushkin William Millls Todd III For at least a century literary scholarship has drawn on familiar correspondence for biographical material while neglecting its literary aspects. Todd contends that in Pushkin's formative years—the first quarter of the 19th century—familiar letters not only served as a means of communicating information between individuals, but also constituted a recognized genre distinct from other forms of literature and correspond- ence. Studies of the Russian Institute, Co- lumbia University • $15.00 The Singing Tradition of Child's Popular Ballads Edited by Bertrand Karris Bronson This is an abridged, one-volume edition of Bronson's four-volume Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads, setting forth music and text for proven examples of oral tradition, with a new comprehensive introduction. Its convenient format makes readily available to students and scholars the materials for a study of the Child ballads as they have been preserved in the British-American singing tradition. From a review of The Traditional Tunes of the Child Ballads: "The greatest single contribution to the scholarship of the ballad in this century. . . ."—The Times Literary Supplement 488 pages • 816 x 11" Cloth, $25.00 • Paper, $12.50 Alexandria Still Forster, Durrell, and Cavafy Jane Lagoudis Pinchin This book describes the profound influence exerted by the spirit of Alexandria and the Alexandrian poet, C. P. Cavafy, on two English-speaking writers, E. M. Forster and Lawrence Durrell. "This is one of the most gracefully written, most intelligent apprais- als of Forster, Durrell, and Cavafy yet at- tempted. Jane Pinchin is a real writer's writer, sensitive to the spirit of the work being examined and alive to all of the infin- itely complex forces that help shape a final product. I can't think of any book I've read recently that I've enjoyed more."—lohn Unterecker, Columbia University $13.50 New from Princeton The Collected Works of a*c Samuel Taylor Coleridge 0 General Editor, Kathleen Coburn Associate Editor, Bart Winer Volume 10: On the Constitution of the Church and State Edited by John Colmer Based on a comparison of early editions, manuscripts, and copies annotated by the poet himself, this edition provides a reliable text of Coleridge's last prose work, pub- lished in 1830. Although originally fo- cussed on the Catholic Emancipation Bill of 1829, the influence of this brief but brilliant synthesis of Coleridge's political and theological thought has extended well be- yond the nineteenth century. Bollingen Series LXXV • lllus. • $14.50 10% subscription discount available to libraries and individuals in the U.S. and Canada only. Names on Trees Ariosto into Art Rensselaer W. Lee This book considers how painters from the late 16th to the 19th century have inter- preted the story of Angelica and Medoro in Ariosto's Orlando Furioso. "Anyone inter- ested in Renaissance art, literature, or cul- tural history will want to consult this book. It is a concise essay, subtle, learned, and fresh. It conveys an extraordinary amount of information and mature wisdom on literature, painting, and the relations between them."—-A. Bartlett Ciamatti, Yale University Princeton Essays on the Arts, 3 • lllus. Cloth, $14.50 • Paper, $5.95 John Ruskin The Argument of the Eye Robert Hewison Ruskin's greatest strength is that he treats the condition of art and the condition of so- ciety as equally significant. He is one of the masters of English .prose; and yet he can be confusing to the modern reader. Hewison's brilliant and refreshing new study reveals the coherent structure of ideas that under- lies Ruskin's work. "Writing with energy, precision, and grace, Robert Hewison has given us the kind of book one can recom- mend if one is asked, 'What is the first book I should read on Ruskin?' "—George P. Landow, Brown University $15.00 Now in Paperback MARK TWAIN: The Fate of Humor JAME5 M. COX $3.95 • (Cloth, $12.50) THE LITERARY IMPACT OF THE GOLDEN BOUGH JOHN B. VICKERY $6.95 • (Cloth, $18.50) PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS • Princeton, New Jersey 08540 LetTw^jneMakt the INTRODUCTIONS INTRODUCTION TO CLASSICAL ARABIC LITERATURE By Use Lichtenstadter $9.95 Professor Lichtenstadter discusses the richness of Arab- Muslim literature and the depth of religious and philosophi- cal thought it contains. Also included is a generous anthol- ogy of literary works which show the variety of Arabic writing and provide an overall picture of medieval Muslim life. INTRODUCTION TO MODERN POLISH LITERATURE Edited by Adam Gillon and Ludwik Krzyzanowski $7.95 A comprehensive anthology of Polish literature written during the past seven decades. INTRODUCTION TO RUMANIAN LITERATURE Edited by Jacob Steinberg $7.95 A selection from representative prose writings of both classi- cal and contemporary Rumanian writers. INTRODUCTION TO YUGOSLAV LITERATURE Edited by Branko Mikasinovich, Dragan Milivojevic, and Vasa D. Mihailovich $9.95 Contains significant poems and stories, as well as excerpts of novels and plays from the four nationalities of Yugoslavia. Prices do not include shipping and handling charges. Prices outside the U.S. are 10% higher. Orders from individuals must be accompanied by full payment, including a shipping and handling charge of 50 cents per book. Complete 1976-1977 Twayne Catalog available upon request. Twaytie Publishers A Division of G. K. Hall & Co. 70 Lincoln Street, Boston, Massachusetts 02111 535 The York Dictionary of English-French-German-Spanish Literary Terms and their Origin (Paperback; 154 pp.; ISBN 0-919966-01-2; $6.95) By S. Elkhadem. A concise dictionary that gives the meaning, explains the origin, and lists the French, German, and Spanish equivalents of important literary terms. Beside defining literary movements and literary genres, it elucidates the terminology of versification, stylistics, rhetoric, and literary criticism. It is indispensable to literary historians, critics, creative writers, and students of general and comparative literature. Just Released TOWARDS A CHRONOLOGY OF QUEVEDO’S POETRY (Paperback; 60 pp.; ISBN 0-919966-02-0; $4.95) By Roger Moore. In this study Dr. Moore analyzes the evolution of Quevedo’s style and divides the love poetry of this great Spanish poet into five main chronological periods. An essential publication for all who appreciate Golden Age Spanish poetry. Just Off Press MODERN EGYPTIAN SHORT STORIES " (Paperback; 81 pp.; ISBN 0-919966-03-9; $5.50) Translated with a critical introduction by Saad El-Gabalawy. In this collection Dr. El-Gabalawy has selected and translated short stories by three major Egyptian writers who have intrinsic importance or represent new departures. This collection is designed not only for students of comparative literature, but also for the general reader, who will discover in it a new world of thought and feeling. Send your order today; enclose your cheque and save postage and handling. YORK PRESS, P.O. Box 1172, Fredericton, N.B. E3B 5C8, Canada The Complete Poetry and Prose of Geoffrey Chaucer John H. Fisher, University of Tennessee The complete works (including Equatorie of the Planets') with glossary, textual and ex- planatory notes at the foot of each page. Twenty-one critical and biographical introductions: one before and ten within Canterbury Tales and one before each other work. Front endpapers: “A Chaucer Chronol- ogy,” relating Chaucer’s life and works to the historical context. Back endpapers: “The Pro- nunciation of Chaucer’s English.” Critical, biographical, linguistic, and textual essays in the appendix. The illustrations include the Ellesmere pilgrim portraits and pages re- produced from five different manuscripts. Bibliography. Contents: Canterbury Tales, Troylus and Criseyde, Book of the Duchess, Parlia- ment of Fowls, House of Fame, Legend of Good Women, Short Poems, Romaunt of the Rose, Boece, Treatise on the Astro- labe, Equatorie of the Planets. Appendix: The Place of Chaucer (survey of criticism); Chaucer in His Time (biography); Chau- cer’s Language and Versification; The Text of This Edition; A Note on the Illustrations. Bibliography. ISBN: 0-03-080273-3 / March, 1977 For a complimentary copy, send course title and approximate enrollment to: James A. Ryder Holt, Rinehart and Winston 383 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10017 New Yale Paper bounds The Puritan Origins of the American Self Sacvan Bercovitch “Perhaps the most penetrating examination yet published of ‘the sources of our obsessive con- cern with the meaning of America.’ ” —Jack P. Greene, History “Such a serious effort to define the distinctiveness of our national self-image is a tonic for the mind and spirit.”—Leo Marx, New York Times Book Review Cloth $15.00 Paper $3.95 Homer to Brecht The European Epic and Dramatic Traditions edited by Michael Seidel and Edward Mendelson This collection comprises sixteen new essays by young scholars on major works in Western literature. Conceived as related pieces, they demonstrate the continuities underlying individ- ual works in a tradition that crosses national, cultural, chronological, and generic boundaries. Cloth $ 17.50 Paper $4.95 Word-Hoard An Introduction to Old English Vocabulary Stephen A. Barney Designed as a teaching aid for beginning courses in Old English, Word-Hoard makes the chore of learning Old English vocabulary an intellectually provocative exercise. It draws etymological connections, provides mnemonic aids, and intro- duces the student to cultural and literary con- cepts as well as words. Cloth $ 10.00 Paper $2.95 willan (wolde) (anom. vb.) "wish, be willing, WILL"; nyllan "will not"; willa (wk.ro.) "desire, delight"; wilnian (II) "desire, ask for"; wel (adv.) "WELL, rightly, indeed"; wela (wk.m.) "WEALth"; welig (adj.) "WEALthy." Cognate are ModG wollen, Wahl, wohl "to wish, choice, well," and Lat. volo, nblo "I wish (not)." The latter is composed like nyllan of a negative particle joined to the positive verb (ne + willan - nyllan); cf. nyt, n5n, nis, nabban, etc. from wit, an, is, habban,. etc. From wille ic, nylle ic "whether I wish to, or not" comes willy-nilly. OE (like all the Germanic langs.) has no formal future tense; in poetry, futurity is usually signalled by context (with the present tense form of the verb), and rarely by the HodE method of willan or sculan (No. 124) + infinitive (usually with sore hint of the desire or obligation implied by the; verbs). In MidE the word wealth was superfluously used ' along with the older word WEAL on the analogy of "health." Willan and w^l reflect different ablaut grades of an IE root; the Gothic forms are wiljan and waila. Cpds.: wSl-hwylc, -ftungen; wil-cuma, -geofa, -geslb, -sip; Sr-, burh-, eorp-, hord-, nfiddum-wela. The Holocaust and the Literary Imagination Lawrence L. Langer “A stimulating, perceptive study of the literature of the Holocaust.... Langer’s examination of possible stylistic approaches to the subject... is in each case detailed and subtle.”—The New Republic Cloth $12.50 Paper $4.95 The Poems of Edward Taylor edited by Donald E. Stanford with a Foreword by Louis L. Martz “Professors Stanford and Martz have performed a most praiseworthy service in presenting the largest single collection of America’s finest colonial poet.... Every student of colonial ideas owes it to himself to become intimately acquainted with this significant edition.” —William and Mary Quarterly Paper $5.95 ☆ ☆ ☆ Announcing the winner of the 1976 Yale Series of Younger Poets competition Beginning with O Olga Broumas Foreword by Stanley Kunitz “This is a book of letting go, of wild avowals, unabashed eroticism; at the same time it is a work of integral imagination, steeped in the light of Greek myth that is part of the poet’s heritage and imbued with an intuitive sense of dramatic conflicts and resolutions, high style, and musical form.”—Stanley Kunitz Cloth $6.95 Paper $2.95 Yale University Press New Haven and London QB Penguin Brings You the Best in Classic and Modem Literature NORTH AMERICAN FICTION WILLIAM BURROUGHS Junky (014-004351-9, $1.95) ROBERTSON DAVIES Fifth Business (014-004387-X, $1.95) Manticore (014-004388-8, $1.95) World of Wonder (014-004389-6, $1.95) HENRY JAMES The Aspern Papers (014-004101-X, $1.95) BRIAN MOORE The Emperor of Ice Cream (014-004449-3, $1.95) JOHN STEINBECK Tortilla Flat (014-004240-7, $1.50) Log From the Sea of Cortez (014-004261-X, $2.50) Once There Was a War (014-004291-1, $1.95) The Short Reign of Pippin IV (014-004290-3, $1.95) BRITISH FICTION JOSEPH CONRAD Almayer's Folly (014-000036-4,$1.95) ELIZABETH GASKELL Cranford/Cousin Phillis (014-043104-7, $2.95) STELLA GIBBONS Cold Comfort Farm (014-000140-9, $1.95) THOMAS HARDY The Portable Thomas Hardy (014-015082-X, $4.95) SUSAN HILL I'm the King of the Castle (014-003491-9, $1.95) SAMUEL JOHNSON The History of Rasselas (014-043108-X, $1.95) RUDYARD KIPLING ED. BY ANDREW Short Stories, Volume 1, (014-003641-5, $2.50) RUTHERFORD A Sahibs' War and Other Stories Short Stories, Volume 2, (014-003282-7, $2.50) Friendly Brook and Other Stories T.E. LAWRENCE Seven Pillars of Wisdom (014-001696-1, $4.95) W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM The Moon and Sixpence (014-000468-8, $1.95) Cakes and Ale (014-000651-6, $1.95) The Narrow Corner (014-001859-X, $1.95) Collected Short Stories, (014-001871-9, $2.95) Volume I CONTINENTAL AND WORLD FICTION ANONYMOUS Egil's Saga (014-044321-5, $2.50) CELINE Castle to Castle (014-004341-1, $2.95) North (014-004342-X, $2.95) HONORE DE BALZAC Ursule Mirouet (014-044316-9, $2.95) Selected Stories (014-044325-8, $2.95) BRUNO SCHULZ Street of Crocodiles (014-004277-X, $2.95) SCIENCE FICTION J. G. 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BYJ.C. MAXWELL Parallel Text (014-042214-5, $2,95) LINGUISTICS JONATHAN CULLER Ferdinand de Saussure (014-004369-1, $2.95) Write for free catalogs, / \ TENGUINf A IBOOKS 625 Madison Avenue New York, N.Y. 10022 ARCHIVES DE LA A LINGUISTIQUE JLj fRANCAISE + 1500-1900 Prof. Bernard Quemada, University of Paris, Editor . considering the quality and scope of the materials offered and the well- designed presentation, it would seem that the Archives de la linguistique franqaise might well be considered a landmark in microform publication.” —Paul J. Kann, Curator, Romance Languages, Stanford University Libraries, in Microform Review • 405 TITLES • PRINTED GUIDE • 392,000 PAGES • AUTHOR INDEX • 6,700 MICROFICHE, 4X6” • CHRONOLOGICAL INDEX • INDIVIDUAL TITLES AVAILABLE • SUBJECT/GENRE INDEX • SUBJECT GROUPS AVAILABLE • INVENTORY IN NEW YORK COMPLETE COLLECTION ............................................ $9000. ($13,000 if purchased individually—30% saving MORE THAN 400 INDISPENSABLE WORKS SPANNING FOUR CENTURIES COMPLETE LIST OF TITLES AVAILABLE ON REQUEST INDIVIDUAL TITLES $2.50 AND UP ON MICROFICHE LIBRARY-BOUND FACSIMILE EDITIONS ALSO AVAILABLE Exclusive representative in the U.S. and Canada Clearwater Publishing Company Inc. 75 Rockefeller Plaza, Dept. PMLA New York, New York 10019 • 212 765-0555 Glyph: Johns Hopkins Textual Studies Volume One The creation of a group of scholars at Johns Hopkins engaged in reassessing contemporary critical trends, Glyph is an unusual venture in American book publishing — a collective semi-annual series. Situated in the crosscurrents of Continental and Anglo-American developments, Glyph provides an international forum for articulating a common set of problems that cut across traditional aca- demic divisions. This necessarily involves dealing with questions of textuality and contextuality. Contents of Volume One The Divaricator Samuel Weber The Purloined Ribbon Paul de Man Disneyland: A Degenerate Utopia Louis Marin Pramoedya’s “Things Vanished” James Siegel The Metaphor in Kafka’s “The Burrow” Henry Sussman Walden’s False Bottoms Walter Benn Michaels Moby Dick: The Scene of Writing Rodolphe Gasche Signature Event Context Jacques Derrida Reiterating the Differences: A Reply to Derrida John R. Searle about Glyph II The second volume, to be published in late fall 1977, will contain commentaries and articles on Descartes and on Freud and theatricality by two young French philosopher-critics, Jean-Luc Nancy and Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe; a discussion by Pietro Pucci of a recent book on Propertius; an article on critical theory by Eugenio Donato; an interpretation of the politics of Borges by Alicia Borinsky; an article on Diderot by Jeffrey Mehlman; and a continuation of the Derrida- Searle controversy. To order GLYPH simply fill out this order form and mail it with check, money order, or complete credit card information to The Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, Maryland 21218 The Publisher will pay postage. . r\ □ 1930-X $12.00 hardcoverPlease send me----------------copies of GLYPH Volume One Q 1931.8 $3.45 paperback I also include payment for Volume Two □ hardcover □ $3.45 paperback and understand that it will be shipped to me in late Fall 1977. □ Check or money order enclosed □ Master Charge No.-------------------------- Expiration date----------------------------------- □ BankAmericard No. ______________ — Expiration date_______________________ Maryland residents please add 4% sales tax Signature __-------------------------------------- Name -------------------------------------------------- Street ---------------------------------------------- .— City ----------------------------------------------------- State----------------------------------Zip —- ------- D2A The Graduate School of Drew University will present a consultation on Literature and Religion the convergence of approaches in the Great Hall, Drew University, October 27-29, 1977 Madison, New Jersey the principal speakers will be: Owen Barfield, British man of letters David J. DeLaura, University of Pennsylvania Mario A. Di Cesare, State University of New York at Binghamton Donald R. Howard, The Johns Hopkins University William F. Lynch, S.J., St. Peter's College J. Hillis Miller, Yale University Inquiries should be addressed to: Consultation on Literature and Religion The Graduate School Drew University Madison, New Jersey 07940 201/377-3000, ext. 313 NEW SERIES ADDITIONS in March 1977 Goldentree Bibliographies in Language and Literature under the series editorship of O. B. Hardison, Jr., Director of the Folger Shakespeare Library. Chaucer. Second Edition compiled by ALBERT C. BAUGH, University of Pennsylvania. 176 pages. $6.95 Linguistics and English Linguistics, Second Edition compiled by HAROLD B. ALLEN, University of Minnesota. 208 pages. $6.95 Crofts Classics CHEKHOV: The Cherry Orchard and The Seagull Trans, and ed. by Laurence Senelick, Tufts University. 144 pages. $2.75 STRINDBERG: Ghost Sonata and IBSEN: When We Dead Awaken Trans, and ed. by Thaddeus L. Torp, Central Connecticut State College. 104 pages. $2.75 71-hK AHM Publishina Corooration 13110 North Arlington Heights Road, Arlington Heights, Illinois 600041 How curling up with agoodnovel makes you a better In this sophisticated study, the well-known social scientist, Morroe Berger, discusses two and a half centuries of fiction to show how the imagined world of the story teller informs us about the real world of experience. Examining novels from Defoe to Forster to Golding, he shows how novels teach sociol- ogy, history, political science, and psychology. It’s a book you can curl up with. Real and Imagined Worlds The Novel and Social Science Morroe Berger $15.00 Harvard University Press Cambridge, Mass. 02138 Lyceum Books announces the publication of the initial series of... FLEXIBLE TEXTBOOKS IN COLLEGE ENGLISH Nearly five years in planning and preparation, the Lyceum Library series of Flexible Text- books represents the collaborative efforts of 22 outstanding authors under the general editorship of Barrett Mandel, Associate Professor of English, Rutgers University. Each short text was written especially for the series and is a complete unit of work. Each is sold separately, enabling you to assemble your own "textbook" —one that best suits your students' needs and the specific design of your individual course. Select any combination of texts from the following: Composition — Basic & Advanced: UNLEARNINC TO WRITE Barry Phillips University of Massachusetts PREWRITINC Ken Symes Western Washington State College TEAMWORK: COLLABORATIVE STRATE- GIES FOR THE COLLECE WRITER Richard C. Gebhardt Findlay College FITTING TONE TO SITUATION Barrett Mandel/Penelope Schott Rutgers University LENGTHENINC/SHORTENINC Tom Klein Bowling Green State University REVISING AND PROOFREADING Betty Rizzo/Blanche Skurnick City University of New York BUSINESS WRITING Alan Berman/lrwin Feder LaGuardia Community College MAKING SHORT FICTIONS Sally Siegel Carnegie-Mellon University POETRY WRITING: A PRIMER James Scully University of Connecticut WRITING DRAMA James Hoetker Florida State University WRITING AUTOBIOGRAPHY Anneliese Smith State University of New York Paperbound 64 pages each 6X9 $1.25 per text Available August, 1977 Companion Texts for the Teaching of Literature: THE PSYCHOLOGY OF READING Jack Rains Dawson College/Montreal READINC SHORT FICTION Donald Morse/Robert Donald Oakland University READINC POETRY Martin Kaplan Aspen Institute for Humanistic Studies READINC DRAMA Carol Gelderman University of New Orleans READINC AUTOBIOGRAPHY Herbert Coursen Bowdoin College Special Subjects: KNOWINC ABOUT WORDS Penelope Schott Rutgers University LINGUISTICS AND LANGUAGE Elizabeth McPherson Forest Park Community College USING THE LIBRARY Libby Blackman Free Library of Philadelphia UNDERSTANDING NON-PRINT MEDIA Barbara Lieb-Brilhart Speech Communication Association For further information: Lyceum Books, Inc. P.O. Box 113 Wilton, Ct. 06897 A HISTORY OF MODERN POETRY FROM THE 1890 s TO THE HIGH MODERNIST MODE David Perkins “A most extraordinary work, unquestionably the most understanding presentation of how modem poetry shaped itself. . . There is nothing like it, nothing which is both so affable and yet so penetrating, critical and creative.”—Louis Untermeyer Belknap Press $17.50 THE SPIRIT OF REFORM BRITISH LITERATURE AND POLITICS, 1832-1867 Patrick Brantlinger Victorian middle-class writers defined and sought to use literature as an instrument of social reform. Patrick Brantlinger examines here their thinking and influence—and the influence of events on them. His discussions include, among others, the work of Bulwer-Lytton, Carlyle, Dickens, Charlotte Bronte, the Brownings, Thackeray, and George Eliot. $14.00 REAL AND IMAGINED WORLDS THE NOVEL AND SOCIAL SCIENCE Morroe Berger A distinguished social scientist brings the perspective of his discipline to bear on two and a half centuries of fiction. Under his scrutiny, the novel reveals a wealth of insight into sociological, historical, and political phenomena. Mr. Berger illustrates his points with a range of both European and American novels, from Defoe to Forster and Golding. $15.00 THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN VIRGINIA WOOLF’S TO THE LIGHTHOUSE Lisa Ruddick Lisa Ruddick offers here a new interpretation of Virginia Woolf’s concept of human identity. Based on a careful study of Woolf’s essays and fiction, this imaginative and discriminating analysis goes beyond the explication of one novel to illuminate Woolf’s work as a whole. The LeBaron Russell Briggs Prize Honors Essay in English $3.50 paper OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS® CHAUCER Sources and Backgrounds Edited by Robert P. Miller, Queens College, City University of New York.L iThis anthology brings together selections from a large number of writers regarded by Chaucer and his contemporaries as authorities in matters ranging from reading to romantic love, chivalric ideals to antifeminist charges, marriage to human destiny. It provides the modern student of medieval literature with the actual texts and ceremonies which defined conventional medieval beliefs and attitudes concern- ing subjects which were of special interest to Chaucer. A number of these selections appear in English for the first time. Brief headnotes introduce each author and indicate the particular importance of his text. June 1977 528 pp.; 17 illus. cloth $15.00 paper $7.00 H. G. WELLS: THE TIME MACHINE and THE WAR OF THE WORLDS A Critical Edition Edited by Frank D. McConnell, Northwestern University.;.! The two most widely taught science fiction novels are now brought together in a critical edition with early reviews of both novels, essays on Wells—his time and his influence—as well as his own “The Rediscovery of the Unique" Illustrations include sketches from THE WAR OF THE WORLDS, film stills, and a map outlining the route of the Martians’ attack on England. “McConnell’s excellent edition will not only be useful in courses but by bringing together valuable and scattered material will contribute to the current ’rediscovery’ of H. G. Wells. At last we are beginning to recognize that Wells was a major writer.”—Mark Rose, University of Illinois 1977 464 pp.; 12 illus. paper $4.00 SCIENCE FICTION History, Science, Vision Robert Scholes, Brown University; and Eric S. Rabkin, University of Michigan. □ In an age increasingly dominated by science and technology, science fiction has become an overwhelmingly popular literary genre and the object of serious critical study. SCIENCE FICTION: History, Science, Vision is a provocative and intelligent introduction to the genre and a stimulating synthesis of the literary, intellectual, social, and scientific elements which comprise the world of science fiction. “Sound, solid, thorough—an eminently useful survey.... Provides new insights while covering the basics in a multiple-viewpoint format....” —James Gunn, University of Kansas 1977 304 pp. cloth $12.95 paper $2.95 Prices and publication dates are subject to change. Important Approaches to Writing Instruction ERRORS AND EXPECTATIONS A Guide for the Teacher of Basic Writing Mina P. Shaughnessy, Director, Instructional Resource Center of the City University of New York. □ This text is intended for those teachers who face the challenge of teaching remedial-level writing to college age students. “This will be a basic book on basic writing for many years to come.”—Edward P.J. Corbett, Ohio State University. “A splendid and admirable book....the best approach and the best guide yet for helping the educationally deprived.”—Sheridan Baker, University of Michigan. “A significant and highly instructive book that fills a vast gap in our knowledge about teaching basic writingY—William F. Irmscher, University of Washington. 1977 336 pp. $8.00 POPULAR WRITING IN AMERICA The Interaction of Style and Audience A Shorter, Alternate Edition Edited by Donald McQuade, Queens College, City University of New York; and Robert Atwan. □ The abbreviated format of this highly successful text collects mainly contemporary material—such as excerpts from All the President's Men, Jaws, and The Exorcist—in order to demonstrate the strategies and techniques of effective prose. Ads, newspaper and magazine articles, best seller excerpts, and literary classics are offered for critical appraisal, and serve as excellent models for studying the variety of approaches used in successful prose, as well as the effects that a writer's audience has on his style. A complimentary Teacher's Manual is available. 1977 448 pp.; 47 full-page ads paper $5.00 AUTOBIOGRAPHY A Reader for Writers Edited by Robert Lyons, Queens College, City University of New York. □ The aim of this anthology is to help students gain confidence and control as writers by using their own experiences as a starting point for their writing. The volume is organized so that students may begin with informal and loosely structured forms of expression and then move on to more organized forms, such as narration and description, before concluding with autobiographical selections relying on a considerable degree of generalization and abstraction. Most of the selections are by contem- porary authors; several have common subject matter that can be adapted by students in their own writing. A complimentary Teacher's Manual is available. 1977 432 pp. paper $5.00 Prices are subject to change. OXFORD UNIVERSITY ;hA) PRESS 200 Madison Ave., New York, N Y. 10016 LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU: ESSAYS AND POEMS And Simplicity, a Comedy Edited by Robert Halsband, University of Illinois; and Isobel Grundy. □ Already famous for her vivid life and brilliant letters, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu deserves attention for her essays and poems as well. In style and subject matter, her essays and poems display the same vigorous versatility that characterizes her other writings. This edition, the first for over a century, includes many previously unpublished poems. 1977 400 pp. $29.95 THE ORIGINS OF SHAKESPEARE Emrys Jones. □ An attempt to answer the question “How did Shakespeare happen?/ this volume shows the great richness of Shakespeare's cultural inheritance and the peculiarly “Tudor” qualities of his earliest efforts. It sheds new light on the medieval and classical provenance of his tragedies and histories, but the chief purpose throughout is to seethe plays more clearly "as in themselves they really are/ 1977 300 pp. $21.00 WILLIAM BLAKE’S WRITINGS Volume I: Engraved and Etched Writings Volume II: Writings in Conventional Typography and in Manuscript Edited by G.E. Bentley, Jr. □ This edition of Blake's writings is the first to be based on the editor's personal examination of each known contemporary copy, which has permitted the incorporation of extensive and precise notes on verbal and graphic details and variants. (Oxford English Texts) 1977 Volume I: 694 pp. $110.00 the set Volume II: 1,096 pp.; 450 illus. BLAKE BOOKS: ANNOTATED CATALOGUES OF WILLIAM BLAKE’S WRITINGS Designs, Engravings, Books He Owned, and Scholarly and Critical Works About Him G.E. Bentley, Jr. □ A descriptive bibliography of works by Blake and an annotated checklist of all printed references to him (1757-1863) and of all significant works about him (1863-1973), Blake Books is a revised and expanded edition of G.E. Bentley, Jr. and M.K. Nurmi’s BiSke Bibliography. 1977 1,200 pp. prob. $88.00 THE ENGLISH JACOBIN NOVEL 1780-1805 Gary Kelly. □ The English Jacobin novel represents a crucial, yet often misunderstood and undervalued, phase in the development of the English novel. This essay in literary history combines materials from many disciplines to study the four major novelists of the genre—Robert Bage, Elizabeth Inchbald, Thomas Holcroft, and William Godwin. 1976 306 pp. $21.00 MARY, A FICTION and THE WRONGS OF WOMAN Mary Wollstonecraft; edited with an introduction by Gary Kelly. □ (Oxford English Novels) 1976 264 pp. $12.00 Prices are subject to change. OXFORD UNIVERSITY S3PRESS 200 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016 The Infidel Transcendentalist "Great believers are always reckoned infidels..." Ralph Waldo Emerson The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson Volume XIII Ralph H. Orth and Alfred R. Ferguson, Editors The journals printed in this volume, covering the years from 1852 to 1855, find Emerson increasingly drawn to the issues of the pragmatic, hard-working nineteenth century. Emerson’s frank and often bitter criticisms of men and society, his views of women, his ideas of the Negro, of God and religion which were formerly deleted or subdued, are restored here. Canceled passages are reproduced; misreadings, corrected; and hitherto unpublished manu- scripts, printed. The old image of the ideal nineteenth-century gentleman, created by such editorial omission, is replaced by the picture of Emerson as he really was. Belknap $35.00 Other volumes from this series: Volume 1,1819-1822. William H. Gilman, Alfred R. Ferguson, George P. Clark, and Merrell R. Davis, editors. $12.00 Volume V, 1835-1838. Merton M. Sealts, Jr., editor. $14.00 Volume VI, 1824-1838. Ralph H. Orth, editor. $12.00 Volume VIII, 1841-1843. William H. Gilman and J.E. Parsons, editors. CEAA. $18.50 Volume IX, 1843-1847. Ralph H. Orth and Alfred R. Ferguson, editors. CEAA. $17.00 Volume X, 1847-1848. Merton M. Sealts, Jr., editor. CEAA. $25.00 Volume XI, 1848-1851. A.W. Plumstead and William H. Gilman, editors, CEAA. $35.00 Volume XII, 1835-1862. Linda Allardt, editor. CEAA. $37.50 Other significant works of Emerson from Harvard University Press: The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson Volume 1,1833-1836. Stephen E. Whicher and Robert E. Spiller, editors. $18.50 Volume III, 1838-1842. Robert E. Spiller and Wallace E. Williams, editors. $20.00 The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson Volume I: Nature, Addresses, and Lectures. Introductions and Notes by Robert E. Spiller. Text estab- lished by Alfred R. Ferguson. CEAA. $15.00 Belknap Press of Harvard University Press Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138 Announcing THE FOURTH ALABAMA SYMPOSIUM ON ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE SIGNS AND SYMBOLS IN -'3 POETRY 13-15 October 1977 Speakers: FEATURED SPEAKERS WILL INCLUDE SUCH DISTINGUISHED MEDIEVALISTS AS: D. W. Robertson, Jr. Princeton University John Gardner Bennington, Vermont Bernard F. Huppe State University of New York at Binghamton Edmund Reiss Duke University James I. Wimsatt University of North Carolina at Greensboro Chauncey Wood McMaster University David Chamberlain University of Iowa V. A. Kolve University of Virginia John B. Friedman University of Illinois Papers. A limited number of papers will be selected by competition Papers should be 10-15 pages long and should include abstracts, self-addressed envelopes and return postage. Deadline for papers: 15 July 1977 For further information, please write Director. Chaucer Symposium Department of English. Drawer AL The Uniz’ersity of Alabama University. Alabama 35486 Inviting Applications to the Graduate Study in English Literature M.A. and Ph.D. he area of English literature in the Graduate School of Drew University is able to offer advanced studies in almost every field or period of English and American literature. The Master of Arts program in English literature is designed for the student who prefers small classes and some tutorials over large classes with standard topics and syllabi, who wants to choose his own area of work, whether it be large or small, in or out of the mainstream, who has his own ideas about blending and orchestrating his studies within a discipline or across disciplines, who works best in a close relationship with a professor, a relationship within which the work can evolve responsively. The program leading to the Doctor of Philosophy degree in English literature is designed for the student who wishes to search and expound the interrelationship between English literature and another field of humanistic knowledge, who prefers tutorial work and opportunities for independent study, who wishes intensive work in a limited number of areas rather than extensive coverage of a broad field. All those admitted may qualify for grants-in-aid ranging from half-tuition to full tuition and, in some exceptional cases, to full tuition plus some money towards expenses. Address The Graduate School inquiries DREW UNIVERSITY 201-377-3000, Ext. 313 to: Madison, New Jersey 07940 FROM BURT FRANKLIN & COMPANY THE CRITICAL RECEPTION Edited with an Introduction by Linda W. Wagner A comprehensive collection of the contemporary critical reviews of the only poet to receive four Pulitzer Prizes. Robert Frost: The Critical Reception provides an invigorating chronology of Frost’s literary reputation which was immediately established with the publication of his first book of poems in 1913 and has not diminished through decades of reinterpretations of his life and work as well as the ever-changing concepts and styles of modern poetry. May 1977 xxx, 380 pages $21.50 A volume in the AMERICAN CRITICAL TRADITION SERIES M. Thomas Inge, General Editor Already published . .. ERNEST HEMINGWAY The Critical Reception Edited with an Introduction by Robert 0. 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There are essays on five dramatists—Ben Jonson, Samuel Daniel, George Chapman, John Marston, and Cyril Tourneur—and on seven anonymous plays and seventeen minor dramatists. A Survey and Bibliography of Recent Studies in English Renaissance Drama. xiv, 368 pages. June. $16.50 ALEXANDER’S BRIDGE By Willa Cather Introduction by Bernice Slote Willa Cather’s first published novel, set in Boston, London, and Paris, is the story of a man unable to resolve the contradictions of his own nature. Long considered an uncharacteristic production, in the light of recent scholarship Alexander’s Bridge is seen to be closely linked to the body of Cather’s work, thematically as well as in its use of myth and symbol. xxxviii, 138 pages. June. Paper (BB 635) $2.95 THE CONSCIOUS LOVERS By Richard Steele Edited by Shirley Strum Kenny The Conscious Lovers is the first thoroughly sentimental English comedy. In this new edition, it is seen as a fusion of Restoration conventions of character and plot with Steele’s concept of comedy (drawn from Terence) as a vehicle for moral and social improvement. The play had a profound—and detrimental—effect on English stage history. Regents Restoration Drama Series. xviii, 111 pages. Cloth $8.95/Paper (BB 268) $2.25 Individuals please prepay. Master Charge or BankAmericard accepted. Add 50d shipping charge, and in Nebraska, 4% tax. University of Nebraska Press Lincoln GS5HS New from Columbia FRANK O’CONNOR An Introduction MAURICE WOHLGELERNTER In this first extended treatment of O’Connor’s literary career, Maurice Wohlgelernter provides a sympathetic but objective assessment of the character and talents of this great Irish author. 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Dr. Thomson maintains that “George Sand- ism” was an important Victorian phenomenon and must be taken into account in any discussion of the age. $17.50 CHILDREN OF THE REVELS The Boy Companies of Shakespeare's Time and Their Plays MICHAEL SHAPIRO This work brilliantly recreates the world of the boy companies that flourished in Elizabethan England and the plays they produced. Professor Shapiro’s literary perceptions and his analysis of over sixty plays ori- ginally acted by children's troupes in Shakespeare’s time bring the era vividly to life. $15.00 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS Address for orders: 136 South Broadway, Irvington, New York 10533 A HANDBOOK FOR TEACHERS OF ITALIAN EDITED BY ANTHONY MOLLICA Published by The American Association of Teachers of Italian The American Association of Teachers of Italian is justifiably proud of the present volume. The Handbook (or Teachers of Italian is a sincere and conscientious attempt to fill a long-standing and repeatedly singled out lacuna in the Italian teaching field. (...) A quick glance at the Table of Contents will show the considerable pains which were taken to repre- sent key areas of professional concern whether they be in Lin- guistics, Methodology, Reference, or Community Feedback. (. . .) Every chapter has been made to adhere to three basic principles: usefulness to the teacher; proven effectiveness in the classroom; and suitability to current need. . . Bruno A. Arcudi, Preface Preface Bruno A. Arcudi 1. Fundamentals of Language Learning and Language Instruction Anthony Papalia 2. Linguistic Methodology and the Teacher of Italian Robert J. Di Pietro 3. Preparation for Language Teaching Frederick J. Bosco 4. Developing Communication Skills Frederick J. Bosco and Robert J. Di Pietro 5. The Reading Program and Oral Practice Anthony S. Mollica 6. Developing CulturaJAJnderstanding Joseph A. Tursi 7. Cartoons in the Language Classroom Anthony S, Mollica 8. Testing for Mastery J. A. Boyd 9. The Teaching of Italian Literature Olga Ragusa 10. Teaching Italian Film Peter E. Bondanella 11. Thematic approach in the Italian Program Remo J. Trivelli 12. Teaching Standard Italian to Students with Dialect Backgrounds Marcel Danesi 13. Italian and the Community S. B. Chandler 14. The Italian Experience in America Robert F. Harney 15. Where to Earn a Degree in Italian Edoardo A. Lbbano 16. Resource Materials for the Teaching of Italian Anita Dente and Anthony S. Mollica Copies of the Handbook for Teachers of Italian may be ordered from; Miss Dorothy Frank, Secretary-Treasurer, AATI, 1742 Tomlinson Avenue, BRONX, N.Y. 10461 Pp. VIII, 301 Net price per copy is $8.95 The Authors and the Editor have prepared the Handbook as a service to the profession. Whatever royalties it earns will go to the American Association of Teachers of Italian which absorbed the expenses of publication. The Female Spectator English Women Writers before 1800 EDITED BY MARY R. MAHL AND HELENE KOON Most anthologers apparently have not thought there were any female writers before 1800. Yet the editors of this anthology have uncovered a wealth of im- portant material written by women between 1350 and 1800—diaries, devotional treatises, travel sketches, speeches, poems, stories, and letters—much of it never before published. (Co-published with The Feminist Press) 352 pages, bibl., notes $15.00 The Advantage of Lyric Essays on Feeling in Poetry BY BARBARA HARDY Following the title essay, in which Professor Hardy argues for the special ad- vantage of the lyric in conveying intense private feelings publicly, she gives de- tailed consideration to the lyric poetry of John Donne, Arthur Hugh Clough, Hopkins, Yeats, Auden, Dylan Thomas, and Sylvia Plath. 160 pages $10.95 Towards a Poetics of Fiction EDITED BY MARK SPILKA This volume contains the cream of the crop of essays that have been published in the journal Novel during its first ten years (1967-1976). These essays represent an effort to create for the study of fiction the kind of theoretical support which the study of poetry has received. Contributors include Raymond Williams, Frank Kermode, Barbara Hardy, Robert Scholes, Wayne Booth, Ian Watt, and others. 352 pages $12.50 Fundamental Problems in Phonetics BY J. C. CATFORD A comprehensive treatment of the production of vocal sounds, whether these sounds are known to function as socially accepted norms in any particular lan- guage or not. Thus broadly conceived, phonetics has the potential to also cate- gorize languages as yet unstudied, the ‘pre-language’ sounds of infants, and the deviant sounds encountered in pathological speech. 288 pages, figures, tables $12.50 INDIANA UNIVERSITY PRESS Tenth and Morton Streets • Bloomington, Indiana 47401 to wm to way) NOW COMPLETE! Released in quarterly installments the most exciting encyclopedia ever published is now complete in 20 volumes. This is the GRANDE ENCYCLOPEDIE, by Larousse, a masterwork indispensible for any research in modern civilization and certainly a must for studies in French. Its contents, text, color and presentation make this work a major editorial and printing achievement which has no comparable competitor in any other language, including English. Produced to serve as a tool for the very sophisticated, as well as for undergraduate and junior college students, CHOICE considered that the GRANDE ENCYCLOPEDIE should be first choice because it “will be more easily comprehensible to a student who is not completely at home in the French language." The complete set of 20 volumes in very attractive bindings can be ordered now for $820.00. The price will last only as long as the present stock in the U.S. lasts, and, therefore, it may change without notice. Place your Order Now with the Exclusive U.S. Distributors PERGAMON PRESS, INC. Tjgj., MAXWELL SCIENTIFIC INTERNATIONAL DIVISION 7 FAIRVIEW PARK • ELMSFORD, NEW YORK 1 0523 1LxZ/ TELEPHONE: 914-592-7700 TELEX: 13-7328 POEMS AND PROSE POEMS BY STRATIS HAVIARAS CROSSING THE RIVER TWICE CLEVELAND STATE UNIVERSITY POETRY SERIES III ISBN 0-914946-02-1 Library of Congress No. 76-29536 Distributed by NACSCORP, Inc., 528 East Lorain St. Oberlin, Ohio 44074 PROBLEMS IN THE LITERARY BIOGRAPHY OF MIKHAIL SHOLOKHOV ROY A. MEDVEDEV The first full-length study in English of the controversy over authorship of And Quiet Flows the Don. $14.95 BORIS PASTERNAK HENRY GIFFORD A discussion of Pasternak’s choice of vocation, his poetry and stories of the 1920’s and 1930’s, his work as translator, the two autobiographies, Doctor Zhivago, the late poems, and the un- finished play, The Blind Beauty. $18.95 AFRICAN LITERATURE IN FRENCH A History of Creative Writing in French from West to Equatorial Africa DOROTHY S. BLAIR A comprehensive guide containing historical surveys and critical analyses of fiction, poetry, and drama. $28.50 UHURU’S FIRES African Literature from East to South ADRIAN A. ROSCOE An introduction covering verse, prose, drama, language problems, the role of oral tradition, and varied responses to the struggle for free- dom. Hard covers $18.50 Paper $6.95 MYTH, LITERATURE AND THE AFRICAN WORLD WOLE SOYINKA Five concrete and stimulating essays reveal how the African world perceives itself, with examples drawn from plays, fiction, and poetry. $11.95 THE LETTERS OF THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY THOMAS PINNEY, Editor Volume 3: January 1834 to August 1841 $42.50 Volume 4: September 1841 to December 1848 $45.00 WORDS INTO RHYTHM D. W. HARDING The author defines “rhythm” and discusses its effects and importance, both literary and psy- chological, in prose and verse from the fifteenth to the twentieth century. $14.95 SALOMON GESSNER His Creative Achievement and Influence JOHN HIBBERD An examination of the Swiss pastoral poet’s work shows his literary merit and importance in the history of taste and ideas. Anglica Ger- manica Series 2 $14.95 THE SYNTAX OF WELSH A Transformational Study of the Passive GWEN AWBERY The first full-length study of a Celtic language from the standpoint of modern linguistic the- ory. Cambridge Studies in Linguistics 18 $19.95 DICTIONARY OF GERMAN SYNONYMS Third Edition R. B. FARRELL An invaluable aid to students of German since its original publication in 1953. The third edition is thoroughly revised, updated, and ap- pended with information on specific problem- words. Hard covers $22.50 Paper $7.95 ANGLO-SAXON ENGLAND 5 PETER CLEMOES, Editor Among the topics treated in this year’s volume are the Parker manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicles and the Icelandic saga of Edward the confessor. $27.50 GREEK TRAGEDY T. F. GOULD and C. J. HERINGTON, Editors Previously unpublished essays provide a cross- section of contemporary approaches to the in- terpretation of Greek tragedy. $24.95 Cambridge University Press 32 East 57th Street New York, N.Y. 10022 Hofstra University celebrates THE HEINRICH VON KLEIST BICENTENNIAL 1777 - 1977 International Conference to commemorate the 200th jubilee of the birth of HEINRICH VON KLEIST Poet, Dramatist, and Man of Letters whose impact reaches far into the 20th century. NOVEMBER 17, 18, 19, 1977 Lectures, Symposia, Exhibits, Films, and Dramatic Readings. For information: Alexej Ugrinsky, Conference Coordinator University Center for Cultural and Intercultural Studies 11550 UNIVERSITY TT E) 1^ E 1”^, University Center: (516) 560-3296 •'■C >• F0reign Language Office: (516) 560-3356 Hofstra University, Hempstead, New York MOVING? 1. For FASTEST service attach a mailing label (from PMLA or Newsletter) in space be- low. Otherwise please print clearly your address as we now have it. NAME_____________________________ ADDRESS CITY STATE ZIP 2. PRINT YOUR NEW MAILING ADDRESS HERE NAME ADDRESS CITY STATE ZIP Please allow 6 weeks for change to take effect. NEW ACADEMIC AFFILIATION (for Directory of members) RANK LANG. INST. CITY STATE ZIP 3. Please mail to: Membership Office, Modern Language Association 62 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10011 Samuel Beckett JOHN PILLING 'Since there have been numerous studies of Beckett's novels and plays, Pilling spends a considerable portion of this intelligent and useful study on Beckett's criticism and on the philosophical, literary, and cultural back- ground to the work. Pilling offers the clearest exposition I have read of the enormous variety of influences on a writer who is also a scholar.' - Shernaz Mehta Mollinger, Library Journal $16.00 Post-War British Theatre JOHN ELSOM 'Probably the best book available on this intricate and intriguing subject. Mr Elsom is immensely knowledgeable; writes a good, lucid prose; he is never pompous, often amusing and thoroughly informative. His brief account of Brecht's influence on British theatre is outstanding.'- Sunday Times $9.50 Tennyson PAUL TURNER 'Paul Turner's contribution to Routledge's valuable Author Guides series contributes a great deal. On the biographical level he reveals more forcibly than usual Tennyson's attractive side - his often ignored sense of humour, his modesty. There is some new biographical detail too. On the poetry, Mr Turner is always fair, sometimes illuminating and ingenious ... An excellent book.' - The Times Routiedge Author Guides $9.50 Articulate Energy An inquiry into the Syntax of English Poetry DONALD DAVIE Reissued with a Postscript 1975 First published in 1955, this book was widely recommended then as an important and original analysis of the way in which syntax functions positively as a poetic element within poetry itself. Donald Davie has added a considerable postscript, reviewing what he did in the original edition. $10.95 Announcing a new series The Routiedge History of English Poetry GENERAL EDITOR: R.A. FOAKES Designed to provide a modern appraisal of English poetry, this major new series is based on critical, textual and historical scholarship and aims to give a critical re-assessment of the development of English poetry within an historical framework. The first book is: Old English and Middle English Poetry DEREK PEARSALL Deals with English poetry from its beginnings in the Anglo-Saxon period through to the end of the fifteenth century. Sixteenth-century poetry is also covered where it demonstrates in any significant way the continuity of medieval traditions. Derek Pearsall gives particular consideration to the nature of the manuscripts which transmit to us our knowledge of this poetry. $17.75 Boudedge& KeganPaul Park Street. Boston. Mass. 02108 ANGLO-IRISH LITERATURE A REVIEW OF RESEARCH edited by Richard J. Finneran The concept of a viable tradition of Anglo-Irish literature is essentially a creation of the Revival period at the end of the nineteenth century, though the beginnings are evident some fifty years earlier. Developing out of that tradition—in different ways, of course—were some of the major writers of this century, as well as a great number of less familiar but nonetheless significant figures. This volume provides essays on writers associated with the Anglo-Irish tradition who have been the subject of a substantial body of published research. There are also chapters on general works, the major authors before the Revival, and the Irish drama (the last of which includes brief comments on many of the minor or contemporary writers otherwise excluded). A list of chapters and contributors follows: General Works (Richard M. Kain), Nineteenth-Century Writers (James F. Kilroy), Oscar Wilde (Ian Fletcher and John Stokes), George Moore (Helmut E. Gerber), Bernard Shaw (Stanley Weintraub), W. B. Yeats (Richard J. Finneran), J. M. Synge (Weldon Thornton), James Joyce (Thomas F. Staley), Four Revival Figures: Lady Gregory, A. E. (George W. Russell), Oliver St. John Gogarty, and James Stephens (James F. Carens), Sean O’Casey (David Krause), and the Modern Drama (Robert Hogan, Bonnie K. Scott, and Gordon Henderson). November 1976 616 pages $18.00 cloth $10.00 paper Send your order and check to: MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York, New York 10011 r I I I I 1 I tog CO <M W 2 Ct S: a g os-a □ 1 QQ &. co Lu O ><£ r- scCO DQ CH zo to z: r~t\i I THE ROAD TO MINILUV: GEORGE ORWELL, THE STATE, AND GOD Christopher Small Christopher Small shows that despite their origins in Orwell’s private religious conflicts, his novels are still remarkably prophetic works which illuminate the disquiet of our times. $7.95 RYMES OF ROBYN HOOD: AN INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH OUTLAW R. B. Dobson and J. Taylor As evidenced by recent major movie and television releases, the myth of Robin Hood, the pastoral English outlaw, lives on. This is a collection of the ballads, plays, and stories, intro- duced by a lively essay which places the legend in context. $12.95 EXPLORATIONS 3 L. C. Knights The renowned critic L. C. Knights provides in this volume a dazzling display of the catholicity of his literary interests. The collection includes pieces on Blake, Herbert, Coleridge, James, Jonson, and Shakespeare and on the teaching of literature. $9.95 THE HOLE IN THE FABRIC: SCIENCE, CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE, AND HENRY JAMES Strother B. Purdy In this imaginative book, Strother B. Purdy draws upon the work of a number of contemporary writers to suggest ways in which novelists of our time explore the unknown, the “other dimen- sion” which intrigued James. $ 11.95 ROMANTIC AND MODERN: REVALUATIONS OF LITERARY TRADITION George Bomstein, Editor Thirteen scholars, each distinguished in his field, argue convincingly that modern writers have preserved far more than they have rejected from their romantic heritage. $ 11.95 APPROACHES TO JOYCE’S PORTRAIT: TEN ESSAYS Thomas F. Staley and Bernard Benstock, Editors Ten essays by prominent Joyce scholars that explore, from individual perspectives, the origins, symbolism, and influence of Joyce’s first novel. $11.95 MILTON STUDIES: VOLUME IX James D. Simmonds, Editor This volume includes general articles on the modern reader’s approach to Milton, solar mysti- cism, and lunar imagery. $17.50 OUT OF THIS FURNACE A novel by Thomas Bell A superb novel, first published in 1941, of an immigrant Slovak family and their difficult years in the steel-mill towns of western Pennsylvania. Cloth $7.95, Paper $3.50 MARIANNE MOORE: A DESCRIPTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY Craig S. Abbott This is an essential tool in the study of Marianne Moore and her varied writings. $20.00 A BIBLIOGRAPHY OF GEORGE BERKELEY, BISHOP OF CLOYNE: HIS WORKS AND HIS CRITICS IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY Geoffrey Keynes A bibliography of Berkeley’s major philosophical and economic writings plus his lesser writings on a variety of subjects. $25.00 PROSPECTS FOR THE 70’S: ENGLISH DEPARTMENTS AND MULTIDISCIPLINARY STUDY Edited by Harry Finestone and Michael F. Shugrue The editors have brought together in one volume this controversial series of papers from the Interdisciplinary Conferences held by the Association of Depart- ments of English. These provocative papers provide a stimulus for the involve- ment of English departments in interdisciplinary work. The English departments, it is suggested, need to flow with the social currents of the academic community. The papers discuss frankly the difficulties surrounding the introduction of inter- disciplinary courses and programs that make special demands on the time and energy of individual faculty members and on limited departmental resources. The papers outline model programs that have been established and they suggest administrative strategies for experimenting with interdisciplinary study. Dis- cussions range from "The American Scholar Reconsidered’’ to the methodology of "Teaching and Revolution.’’ The collection argues for a new consciousness in the English departments and a redefining of objectives. Prospects for the 70’s will no doubt stimulate debate among all who read it. December 1973 246 pages $7.50 paper MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York 10011 Aside from Teaching English, What in the WM CanlbuDo? To help combat the widespread notion that people with degrees in the humani- ties, and particularly in English, are superfluous commodities in today’s job market, Aside from Teaching English offers a brighter outlook for jobhunters with academic training in writing and literature. This handbook encourages those who are faced with a closed door to the teaching field to reassess their skills and to find demands that they can meet in related areas. DOROTHY K. BESTOR Dorothy Bestor, recently counselor in charge of college teaching placement at the University of Washington Placement Center, uses information collected both from her experience there and from sources nationwide to demonstrate that such jobs outside teaching are available and accessible to those willing to seek them out. Among the many possibilities discussed are freelance and team editing, campus nonacademic jobs, nontraditional kinds of teaching, jobs in the media and book publishing, and writing and research for business and government. The text describes the opportunities within these areas and the backgrounds best suited to them, and suggests ways to go after existing jobs or actually to create new ones. Although the text and the bibliography survey the printed sources, much of the information comes from informal interviews and questionnaires involving over three hundred employers and jobholders. Dorothy Bestor has taught English at Vassar, Bryn Mawr, and Douglass Col- leges, the State University of New York, and Bellevue Community College. She currently teaches courses in writing and literature in the Continuing Education program at the University of Washington, and heads a Seattle group of free- lance editors. 308 pp. appendix, bibliog., index ISBN 0-295-95543-0, LC 76-49163 Paper only, $5.95 Send your order and check to: UNIVERSITY OF WASHINGTON PRESS SEATTLE, WASHINGTON 98105 563 Books From American Literature and Literary Criticism The American Idea The Literary Response to American Optimism By Everett Carter North Carolina, February 1977, $14.95 American Literature, 1764-1789 The Revolutionary Years Edited by Everett Emerson Wisconsin, April 1977, $15.00 The Authority of Experience Essays in Feminist Criticism Edited by Arlyn Diamond and Lee Edwards Massachusetts, January 1977, $15.00 Fact and Fiction The New Journalism and the Nonfiction Novel By John Hollowell North Carolina, March 1977, $11.95 The Force So Much Closer Home Henry Adams and the Adams Family By Earl N. Harbert New York, May 1977, $15.00 cl., $4.95 p. From the Ghetto The Fiction of Abraham Cahan By Jules Chametzky Massachusetts, March 1977, $10.00 John Barth Art Introduction By David Morrell Pennsylvania State, 1976, $10.00 Many Futures, Many Worlds Theme and Form in Science Fiction By Thomas D. Clareson Kent State, April 1977, $12.50 cl., $5.50 p. Marianne Moore Poet of Affection By Pamela White Hadas Syracuse, May 1977, $15.00 Old Tales and Talking Quentin Compson in William Faulkner’s Absalom, Absalom! and Related Works By Estella Schoenberg Mississippi, April 1977, $7.95 The Poetic Vision of Robert Penn Warren By Victor H. Strandberg Kentucky, July 1977, $9.95 The Poetry of American Women from 1632 to 1945 By Emily Stipes Watts Texas, May 1977, $13.95 Rousseau and Romanticism By Irving Babbitt Texas, May 1977, $4.95 Tennessee Williams A Tribute Edited by Jac Tharpe Mississippi, May 1977, $29.95 Van Wyck Brooks In Search of American Culture By James Hoopes Massachusetts, February 1977, $15.00 Walt Whitman The Correspondence Supplement Edited by Edwin Haviland Miller New York, May 1977, $20.00 Wieland and “Memoirs of Carwin” The Novels and Related Works of Charles Brockden Brown Edited by S. W. Reid and Sydney J. Krause Kent State, April 1977, $20.00 Young Man Thoreau By Richard Lebeaux Massachusetts, May 1977, $12.50 Asian Literature and Literary Criticism The Incident at Sakai and Other Stories By Mori Ogai, edited by David Dilworth and J. Thomas Rimer Hawaii, May 1977, $12.95 Ruth V. Hemenway, M.D. A Memoir of Revolutionary China, 1924-1941 Edited by Fred W. 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Miller New York, 1976, $15.00 wl Walter de Gruyter cj Berlin • New Y ork Kurt Ruh (Editor) V erfasserlexikon Die deutsche Literatur des Mittelalters Founded by Wolfgang Stammler, continued by Karl Langosch Second completely revised edition with colaboration of numerous scientists edited by Kurt Ruh in cooperation with Gundolf Keil, Werner Schroder, Burghart Wachinger and Franz Josef Worstbrock 6 volumes. Large-octavo. Cloth. ISBN 3 11 003786 6 (Subscribers must contract for the entire series) Published in fascicles of 160 pages each. Volume I, fascicle 1: 1977. 160 pages. Boards DM 68,—; $29.60 ISBN 3 11 006927 X The alphabetical index to the VL lists more than 5,000 contributions of authors known by name and of anonymous works of German medieval literature. Not only poetry, also writings on philosophy, theology, historiography, law, medicine, technology and the natural sciences are taken into consideration. The progress of scholarship and the many additions that seemed necessary have created a desire for a thoroughly revised edition of the Verfasserlexikon. In keeping with Stammler’s concept, all authors who wrote in German as well as all anonymous works in German are included, as are those German and Dutch authors who made their influence felt in the German-speaking countries. The dictionary will concentrate more strictly on authors and their works than was the case in the first edition and an emphasis will be on representing articles and fields in accordance with their relative importance. The Verfasserlexikon is an encyclopedic dictionary of Middle High German literature and reflects, in its comprehensiveness and detail, the contemporary state of research in this field. Price is subject to change For USA and Canada: Please send all orders to Walter de Gruyter Inc., 3 Westchester Plaza, Elmsford, New York, N. Y. 10523 \ THE NOVEL BEFORE THE NOVEL Essays and Discussions about the Beginnings of Prose Fiction in the West Arthur Heiserman "This work offers significant new insights,. . . discharges its task with imagination, verve, and economy, and will prove to be an important contribution to our understanding of how forms evolve in literary and social contexts." —Charles Witke, University of Michigan 272 pages Cloth $15.00 THE JOURNEY TO THE WEST Volume I Translated and Edited by Anthony C. Yu One of the five monumental classics of traditional Chinese fiction, this fantastic tale recounts the sixteen-year pilgrimage of the monk Hsuan-tsang (596-664) who journeyed to India to bring back more than six hundred items of Buddhist scripture. 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work_g7ui44lanbhlhlfzdhjdltvgra	----	1 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 Ethical Failures and History Lessons: The U.S. Public Health Service Research Studies in Tuskegee and Guatemala Susan M. Reverby, PhD1 ABSTRACT Bioethics is often thought of as having been “born in scandal and raised in protectionism.” Less often acknowledged is that bioethics has been so nourished by melodramatic frames that the effort to provide a different form of analysis has been problematic. Using examples of the author’s scholarship on the history and coverage of the United States Public Health Service’s untreated syphilis study in Tuskegee (1932-72) and its sexually transmitted diseases inoculation research studies in Guatemala (1946-48), these histories of medical malfeasance, governmental over- reach, and the use of racist and imperial power are examined for the limitations of emotional understandings of “bad scientists” and failures to obtain consent. It is argued that these two tragedies, which have provided an explanation for suspicion of medical and public health research, need to be understood in the context of research hubris and institutional power. They remind us of the necessity for protection of human rights against dangerous excesses of zeal in human research, and the need for researchers to imagine themselves in similar situations. Key Words: Bioethics, Tuskegee, Guatemala, United States Public Health Service, syphilis, sexually transmitted disease, media Suggested Citation: Reverby SM. Ethical failures and history lessons: the U.S. Public Health Service research studies in Tuskegee and Guatemala. Public Health Reviews. 2012;34: epub ahead of print. INTRODUCTION Bioethics was “born in scandal and raised in protectionism,” as the much used phrasing from bioethicist Carol Levine goes. It reminds us that historical case studies of horrific ethical violations birthed the need to 1 Women’s and Gender Studies Department, Wellesley College, Wellesley, MA, USA. Corresponding Author Contact Information: Susan M. Reverby at sreverby@wellesley.edu; Women’s and Gender Studies Department, Wellesley College, 106 Central Street, Wellesley, MA 02481, USA. 2 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 protect human subjects and to regularize the use of informed consent.1,2 Less often acknowledged is that bioethics has been so nourished by melodrama, a form of theatric understanding that focuses on known stories and familiar characters, that the effort to provide a different form of sustenance has often been problematic. My own scholarship and media experiences as an historian of two key American research tragedies demonstrate these dangers in the stock recountings that undermine the ethical lessons to be derived. My work has focused on two troubling studies in American medical research history: 1) the United States Public Health Service (PHS) Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Male Negro, better known as the Tuskegee Syphilis Study (1932-1972) for which then President Bill Clinton apologized in 1997; and 2) the U.S. PHS Inoculation Sexually Transmitted Diseases (STD) Studies in Guatemala (1946-1948) that received world- wide attention, a high-level U.S. government apology to Guatemala on October 1, 2010, and government sponsored reports in both countries.3-9 Each of these studies involved the powerful U.S. government, focused on primarily poor and rural African American men in one case, and Guatemalan sex workers, mental patients, soldiers, and prisoners in the other. Each entailed deceptions, lack of any real consenting processes, and the intended failure to treat syphilis in Tuskegee, and the actual purposeful transmission of potentially life-threatening STDs in Guatemala. The study in Tuskegee went on for four decades as hundreds of African American men, 439 with late stage syphilis and 185 controls without the disease were watched, but not supposed to be treated. The study in Guatemala extended for two years, recruited more than 1300 men and women, and involved infecting them with syphilis, gonorrhea and chancroid and then treating a little more than half of them (but not all and perhaps not long enough).i Each study conjures up almost primordial and powerful fears: lack of control over our own bodies, dangers of abuse by those with great power, terror of putting trust in physician/scientists who respond with what many i The absolute number of those recruited to the studies in Guatemala is still unclear because of the incomplete state of the original records, now housed at the U.S. Southeast Regional National Archives in Morrow, Georgia. All of the records are now online and can be accessed at http://www.archives.gov/research/health/cdc-cutler-records. According to the biostatisticians who worked on the records for the U.S. government report, the number of those infected, but who then evinced infection, cannot be known from the records. This number matters because it affects how many received treatment after they had the disease.7(p.154) The Guatemala government report claims more than 2000 were exposed.9 The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 3 see as close to medical torture, and perhaps most destructively the racism of treating people of color as the “other” both in the U.S. South and the Global South. Each had physical procedures that are fairly horrific: diagnostic spinal taps described instead as “special treatment” in Tuskegee, and the use of sex workers, spinal punctures, and the abrading of men’s penises and women’s cervixes to deliver the disease inoculums in Guatemala. Each concerned dreadful diseases that are primarily sexually transmitted. Both have also been analyzed in the context of the racism and imperial power that made it possible for the doctors to believe they had the right to do the studies, and have fueled suspicion of public health and medicine. (For more on the question of whether or not the study in Tuskegee has left a lasting sense of suspicion of public health research, see refs.10,11) Nevertheless, trying to make their histories more factually accurate, focused on their institutional underpinnings, and not seen as something out of the “bad old past” has been difficult to do. A complicated, but more nuanced historical analysis is limited by the strong beliefs about what the stories are supposed to be about and the seemingly obvious ethical lessons to be derived. This is especially difficult because these horrific medical histories are central to bioethical considerations. For in much of bioethics, in particular, cases of infamous wrongdoing play a crucial role: they serve almost as what critic Sacvan Bercovitch called in another context “American jeremiads.” Named after the prophet Jeremiah, in these lamentations “moral outrage” is raised to emphasize a fall from previous grace, “anxiety” about the present, and the “reaffirmat[ion] of America’s mission,” or in this case medical and public health research’s missions.12 The late film director Sidney Lumet’s thoughtful comment that explains the difference between drama and melodrama focuses what should be a concern about the limits of just moral outrage. Lumet claims: “In a well written drama the story comes out of the characters. The characters in a well written melodrama come out of the story.”13 Historians, of course, need to write dramas where the historical figures create the story in a context they both shape and cannot shape, not melodramas where the story is already known and the characters just fill in. For poorly done and misunderstood history is also a poor guide to policy. When it comes to public discussions and fictional representations of racism and imperialism, it is often these emotive tales where the story driving the characters happens first.14-16 These are written and performed with great sentimentality (even with swelling music in the original forms) where, as cultural critic Jane Tompkins writes, the story is “awash with emotion but does nothing to remedy the evil it deplores.”15(p.127)Film critic 4 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 Linda Williams has also argued that such an approach, especially when it concerns race, often puts the audience into an emotional arena where the focus is on “victimhood” rather than “rights.”14,ii As a parallel problem, it makes it difficult to escape from mere moral outrage and stock assumptions about what happened in either Tuskegee or Guatemala. THE U.S. PHS STUDY OF UNTREATED SYPHILIS IN TUSKEGEE Since knowledge of the study in Tuskegee first made headlines in July 1972, the belief has circulated that the men in the study had been given syphilis by the U.S. PHS, not had the disease already. (For a clear timeline of the events in the study, and the published articles, see ref.18) This misunderstanding is everywhere: from the most sophisticated scholars to the sonorous nightly news broadcasters and the endless Internet reiterations. (For an examination of the ways this myth circulates, see Reverby 2009.4(pp.89-91,187-240)) The United States Public Health Service Study of Untreated Syphilis in the Male Negro in Tuskegee, Alabama, 1932-1972 Name: Primarily known since 1972 as the Tuskegee Syphilis Study, or the infamous Tuskegee Study in professional literature, the media and in public, the study was run by the U.S. PHS in conjunction with Tuskegee University (then Tuskegee Institute) in and around Tuskegee, Alabama, USA. In most of the articles written by researchers in the study, it is referred to as a study of “Untreated Syphilis in the Male Negro.” Dates: 1932-1972 Purpose: In the 1930s there was growing concern over medication for syphilis in the late stages of the disease. The study was set up to see what happened when men in late syphilis were left untreated and if there were differences in the disease by race. Even after penicillin proved effective for syphilis in the 1940s and 1950s, the men were supposed to be left untreated. Numbers: The unwitting participants were all African American men, 439 with syphilis, 185 controls. Twelve men in the control arm who tested positive for syphilis during the study were switched into the syphilis arm. Men whose autopsies showed no signs of syphilis were not switched into the controls. Wives, children and sex partners were not traced and few were treated. All the men were supposed to be non-contagious, but the medical records’ evidence contradicts this. At least 16 deaths were attributable to syphilis and the number may be much higher. ii Then candidate Barack Obama discussed this as well in his 2008 so-called “race speech” when he argued that Americans tend to discuss race in terms of tragedy and spectacle.17 The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 5 Methodology: Find men in supposed late stage syphilis and have a public health nurse keep track of them. Efforts were made to keep them out of the draft in World War II (where they would have been treated) and to follow them throughout the country. Treatment was not supposed to be given, although the evidence suggests some of the men got to penicillin treatment by happenstance, or through assistance by medical/nursing personnel. Deception: The men were told the diagnostic spinal taps were “special treatment.” There was no consent, except for the autopsies. They were told they were being treated for their “bad blood.” The men were given vitamins, iron tonics and aspirins as “cures.” Publications: More than thirteen articles appeared in the medical literature, although after the 1950s the men were referred to as “volunteers.” For example, see Vonderlehr et. al., and Olansky et. al.19,20 Outcome: After a newspaper account in 1972 led to public exposure, there was a federal investigation, U.S. Senate hearings, a successful lawsuit, medical and health care for the survivors and their syphilis positive wives and children, and the instituting of federal rules on informed consent and human subject protections. President Bill Clinton offered formal apology in 1997 after political organizing for this event. “The Tuskegee Study” remains a metaphor for racism, misconduct in research, and government malfeasance. To understand why this belief still circulates is to accept that the study was never from its very public exposure just an historical event. It became almost an American allegory, a way to explain the dangers and fears that lurk each time a patient or subject places their lives in someone else’s hands, whether for clinical care or a research trial, and as a way to speak about racism without directly naming it. There is a reason some of the earliest horror stories and films focus on the dangers of unchecked medical madness and the power of doctors over the innocent. The monster doctors- are-infecting-the-vulnerable story is a powerful tale where our horror deepens as we expect to see the hapless victims and the evil scientist. The failure to treat in Tuskegee, however, is in some ways much more normative. How common is the seemingly never-ending story of the denial of care: lack of insurance, deliberate cutoff of benefits, or some opposition to a particular kind of prevention. And after all, if the men in the study had been given access to health insurance, it is unlikely they would have signed up for what they thought was to be “treatment” in the first place.21 Similarly, the director of the black-run hospitals in Tuskegee might never had agreed to the experiment if there had been other ways to get even simple care to the black rural poor. In the U.S., alas, the lack of appropriate treatment and access to care is in many ways much more terrible for its familiarity and its violation of what ought to be a basic right to health care. The study in Tuskegee, along with slavery and lynching, has and should become yet another example of what happens when African Americans are not valued as rights-bearing citizens. The narrative of the study rests on the 6 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 racial- and class-based vulnerability of the African American men in the farms and small towns of rural Alabama at the height of the Great Depression when the study began as an offer of free care from public health officials. Racism is key to the power of the story and needs to be emphasized. At the same time, the actualities on the ground where this racism played out make this a more complicated experience that should be acknowledged to avoid a stereotyped story. The ususal tellings contend that the government’s power was so widespread that all the men were continually tracked and none could get to treatment elsewhere. It is true the U.S. PHS doctors tried to stop any of them still alive and of military age from being drafted during World War II where treatment as military personnel would have been possible. My research, however, tried to tell a more complicated accounting, not to excuse what happened but to explain it. (There is a debate on the scientific knowledge around the time of the study. For another view on this see Benedek and Erlen.22) When many of the study’s “unwitting participants”iii left Alabama as part of the great migrations of African Americans out of the Southern fields to the urban cities, the PHS did try on occasion to see if they could be found and checked on. Yet the letters exchanged by the public health officials did not tell others not to treat. The men’s medical records suggest that many who survived into the antibiotic era either found their way to curative penicillin, although very late in the disease process, because of other ills, or because their new doctors had no knowledge they were in the study, or perhaps because those health care professionals in Tuskegee made it possible in the background. By the end of the study, and before its public exposure, the PHS researchers had to admit to one another that it had become a study of under-treated, not untreated, syphilis.4(pp.56-73)In the end, the data was a mess and useless, while the ethical concerns about how to do medical research became paramount.4 The melodrama of Tuskegee also has a powerful figure in Herman Shaw, one of the study’s subjects, a key person in several of the film documentaries, and the spokesman for the men at the federal apology in Washington DC in 1997. For Mr. Shaw, argues in his legal statements, before a Senate hearing, and in fictional form in the film “Miss Evers’ Boys,” that he was treated as a “guinea hog,” not just a “guinea pig,” and then kept from getting treatment at a public health rapid treatment center for syphilis 140 miles from his home. In this way he becomes almost a modern medical run-away slave iii The term “unwitting participants” comes from Professor Muhjah Shakir at Tuskegee University.23 The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 7 who is captured and returned to his experimental plantation. However, contemporary documents show that anyone not in the early and contagious stage of syphilis (as opposed to the late stage) was turned away from such treatment centers. Thus Mr. Shaw may have turned away because of the presumed stage in the disease, as were others. Furthermore, when Mr. Shaw got pneumonia in the 1950s he was treated in a local hospital in Alabama with days worth of penicillin.4(pp.111-134),24 He died in 1997 at age 96. The intent of the study is horrific and should remain a touchstone of what not to do. The experience on the ground, however, is more complicated by its normality in terms of the failure to treat, the ability of some of the men to escape the PHS’s power, and the difficulties it presented for the black health professionals who needed someway to offer a modicum of care to an underserved population. THE STD INOCULATION RESEARCH IN GUATEMALA The problem of melodrama, rather than drama, in bioethical historical tales became even clearer as the news of the study in Guatemala became a worldwide phenomena, after officials in the U.S. government offered an apology in 2010. While researching a physician named John C. Cutler, who worked on the study in Tuskegee in the 1950s and became one of its frequent defenders in the 1990s, I found in his papers at the archives at the University of Pittsburgh (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S.) thousands of pages, laboratory and experimental reports, and photographs with the cover report that stated “Experimental Studies on Human Inoculation in Syphilis, Gonorrhea, and Chancroid.” The papers were for a U.S. government funded study, through the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to the PHS’s Venereal Disease Research Laboratory (VDRL) and Pan-American Sanitary Bureau, which took place in Guatemala between 1946 and 1948. Cutler, just thirty- one years old and four years out of medical school, ran the study along with Juan Funes, the Director of what was then called the venereal disease control division of the Guatemalan Sanidad Publica, who had a fellowship to work with the PHS. Unlike in Tuskegee, where the men were supposed to be all in late latency (although there are rumors they were infected by the government) here was research where a doctor who would go to work in the on-going study in Tuskegee actually infected men and women with STDs in the Global, but not the American, South. The purpose of this study primarily was to see if penicillin, as a newly available drug, could serve not just as a cure for early syphilis, but also as a prophylaxis for several STDs. 8 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 The United States Public Health Service S.T.D. Inoculation Studies in Guatemala, 1946-1948 Name: The U.S. STD Research in Guatemala or the Guatemala Inoculation Studies are the terms primarily used. The U.S. PHS’s Venereal Disease Research Laboratory (VDRL) and the Pan-American Sanitary Bureau (now the Pan-American Health Organization), with a grant from the National Institute of Health and with the cooperation of the Guatemalan government, ran the studies. Dates: 1946-1948 Purpose: According to the unpublished report by the study’s director: “these studies were designed to obtain information about methods of prophylaxis against syphilis [and gonorrhea and chancroid]; to increase understanding of the effects of penicillin in treatment of syphilis; to assist in better understanding of the question of false positive serologic tests for syphilis; and to enhance knowledge of the biology and immunology of syphilis in man.” Numbers: The studies involved inoculation of STDs in men and women who were sex workers, prisoners, mental patients, and soldiers. Children in an orphanage, patients in a leprosarium and some American soldiers were given serological tests. According to the U.S. Bioethical Issues Commission, 1308 subjects were inoculated with an STD, and 678 received some form of treatment, and another 5128 subjects were part of the diagnostic testing. The number who actually became infected is impossible to determine. The Guatemalan government report claims there were 2082 subjects exposed. 83 individuals died during the course of the study, but it is unclear if the inoculations caused these deaths. It is clear they caused much suffering and pain. Methodology: Sex workers who already had sexually transmitted infections were paid to have sex with prisoners in the Guatemala Federal Penitentiary, where such activity was legal. Other sex workers were infected as well as patients in the country’s only mental hospital and soldiers. Deception: There was no informed consent. The VDRL, the PHS and Guatemalan health officials held closely information about the studies. Even the director of the mental hospital was not told what was being done. Publications: Only a few articles on the serological work, without mention of the inoculation. No discussion of the inoculation in a major review of STD inoculations published in 1956. For example, see Levitan et al., and Juan Funes et. al.25,26 Outcome: Historian Susan M. Reverby discovered the records in the University of Pittsburgh (US) archives and shared her subsequent paper/article on the study with former CDC director David Sencer. Sencer gave the information to current CDC leadership and it went up the chain of command to the White House, leading to a federal apology on October 1, 2010. Worldwide media outrage followed, and the Presidential Commission for the Study of Bioethical Issues issued reports in 2011. A lawsuit by Guatemalan survivors was turned down in the federal courts in 2012, but is being appealed. CDC provided some money to the Guatemalan government for STI care and bioethics research. Unlike the study in Tuskegee that was meant to follow untreated men with late syphilis, this research involved the even more controversial inoculating of men and women in various ways with differing STDs, but was also supposed to supply treatment if they became infected. Started The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 9 three years after the new drug penicillin had been shown to cure early syphilis infection, the initial purpose of the study in Guatemala was to discover if it, as well as an arsenical biological agent called orvus mapharsen used from 1923 to the 1950s, could also work as a prophylaxis after human exposure to the disease but before the infection took hold. The study was expanded to examine some blood testing procedures and to inoculation of gonorrhea and chancroid to test the prophylaxis procedures as well. Guatemala was chosen as a site because Funes, through his government, could provide the connections to various institutions—a penitentiary, an orphanage, a mental hospital, and an army barracks—and because prostitution was legal and sex workers could be brought into the prison. The sex workers thus became seen as the diseases’ “vectors,” rather another group of unwitting and duped participants.27,28 While such research with sex workers had been frowned upon in the U.S., the PHS was willing to tolerate it in Guatemala.iv Unlike in Tuskegee, this study did involve infecting individuals, many of who were of Mayan and other Guatemalan native ancestries. Cutler and Funes initially found sex workers who already had STDs and then used U.S. taxpayer dollars to pay them to ply their trade with the prisoners and later infected them as well. Despite this, and even after supplying alcoholic drinks to the “couples” to mimic what Cutler called the “normal exposure” of sexual intimacy, the inmates were opposed to the many blood draws for testing and proved recalcitrant.6,7 The studies moved beyond the prison and the use of sex workers. They also took place in an orphanage and a leprosarium, where only testing not inoculating was undertaken, and then inoculation began anew in Guatemala’s only mental hospital and an army barracks. Inoculums were made from STD infected rabbits and “street” strains and delivered in multiple ways: skin contact, direct injection, scarification/abrasion of arms, faces, penises and cervixes, cisternal and lumbar punctures. While the subjects were supposed to be treated, analysis of the lab reports and data suggests that less than half of those exposed were treated as noted in the appendixes to the U.S. Presidential Commission for the study of Bioethical Issues report, Ethically Impossible. The report also acknowledges, however, that it impossible to know how many of those inoculated actually became infected.7. Eighty-three deaths were reported during the course of the studies, mostly from tuberculosis with no clarity as to whether or not the inoculations brought these deaths on. iv Johns Hopkins’ syphilologist Joseph Earle Moore described a 1938 study using sex workers in the United States that made him “shutter in horror.” Yet Moore was willing to approve the study in Guatemala less than a decade later.29 10 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 Cutler’s correspondence with his superiors, including leading public health syphilologists John Mahoney and R.C. Arnold as well as U.S. Surgeon General Thomas Parran, made clear they were concerned about knowledge of the study spreading as they kept it buried within a tight circle. They knew they were cutting ethical corners but justified their work because of the urgency and importance, they believed, of what they might be able to find out.6,7 Knowledge about the study after it ended in 1948 remained buried. The study in Tuskegee had more than a dozen publications and was known within the public health and medical communities before 1972. (For a list of these publications and the initial historical accounting of the study in Tuskegee, see Jones.30) In contrast, the written information about the study conducted in Guatemala was in only one doctor’s personal archives, with only a few publications primarily about the serological work that had accompanied the study that had no reference to the unconsented inoculations.25,26,31,32 Even when a major review of inoculation studies was published in 1956 with Cutler as one of the authors, the study in Guatemala remained unmentioned.33 While anecdotal evidence suggests rumors about this study had circulated within the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) for years, until I brought it their attention in 2010 it remained unacknowledged. (For details on how the story made its way through the CDC and on to the White House, see Reverby 2010.34) Cutler, however, gave the papers and reports to the archives in the University of Pittsburgh (where he had taught in the Public Health School) in 1990 for reasons that still remain unclear, and there they sat until I found them while doing research on the study in Tuskegee. I wrote an article about the study for a policy history journal to be published in January 2011, giving it first as a paper at a meeting of the American Association for the History of Medicine in May 2010.6 The story might have languished in the teaching and memories of historians of medicine, except that I shared the unpublished paper once it was written with David Sencer, a former Director (1966-77) of the CDC. Sencer, who had presided over the debacle of the public exposure of the Tuskegee study in 1972, was horrified by the story of the Guatemala study and the possible consequences when it came to light; he asked if he could show my paper to the current leadership of the CDC. When I agreed and sent them, in addition, my notes and photocopies from the archives, the U.S. government became involved. A syphilis expert was dispensed to the archives at the University of Pittsburgh, and his report and my yet unpublished article made it up the chain of command to the White House in the summer of 2010.35 The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 11 In the end, a political decision was made to have the U.S. Secretaries of State and Health and Human Services issue a public apology to Guatemala and to have President Obama call then President Colom in Guatemala to explain. Colom invoked the terms first used against the Armenian Genocide and called the studies “crimes against humanity.”36 The story became immediate news on October 1, 2010 and was covered by a variety of media worldwide from the Chinese News Agency to the BBC to Al Jazeera. President Obama asked his Presidential Commission for the Study of Bioethical Issues to explore the history of the study and current human subject protections. They issued their own report on the history in September 2011, describing in detail the ethical violations and the moral culpability of those involved. This was followed by an analysis three months later called “Moral Science,” that made an effort to explore the kinds of protections for human subjects now in place.7,8 Quickly it became clear that the horrific and almost salacious details mimicked many a pulp novel or grade B films of the mad white scientist run amuck among the “natives.” Much of the media that contacted me in search of my narrative wanted to know: 1) how had this happened and how did I feel when I found the materials; 2) how monstrous really was Dr. Cutler, the PHS doctor who had run the studies in Guatemala; and 3) which was worse: the studies in Tuskegee or Guatemala? At first, I was flabbergasted by the query: How did I feel? Why did anyone care how I felt? When I said I was shocked that this kind of study had gone on, one reporter wrote that I was naïve and did not understand how normative this was for medicine. If I said that I was not surprised, then I sounded as if I were a callous and thoughtless human being. Others made me sound as if I were just some “girl” researcher who had accidently found this material that was being hidden away, rather than a scholar who knew what she was looking at (if not aware of its current news value) and could write it up in a historically nuanced manner. No one seems to have remembered Pasteur’s aphorism: “Chance favors the prepared mind.” I was criticized for not putting it on my blog immediately after I found it as if this somehow would have gotten attention rather than sharing it with the CDC, which then led to the apology.v v I was contacted by over 50 different media outlets on the first day after the story broke because the only complete written version at the time of what had happened was my then unpublished article linked to my college faculty webpage. Since then thousands of stories have been filed worldwide. 12 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 Much of the media focus was on John Cutler as the evil scientist. I made every effort to put Cutler in context, to discuss the ways in which his higher- ups were not entirely sure this was acceptable research but had still let it go on, and how it had been funded. I was trying to explain why the PHS was so concerned about syphilis, and the search for a chemical prophylaxis to prevent infection after exposure, that it would go to these lengths in the interest of understanding what might be a possible measure to use against it and other STDs. The emotional tale, however, proved a more powerful story. Cutler was seen as a “Nazi” doctor/mad scientist and the hypocrisy of the U.S. denounced, as it was simultaneously prosecuting Nazi doctors in Nuremberg (1946 to 1947) and supporting the Guatemala study (1946 to 1948). The Guatemalans became hopeless victims, and the connections between the U.S.’s power and the Guatemalans’ then liberal government’s approval of the study was mainly ignored. Why governments and medical professionals might agree to such a study in an under-resourced area, especially when efforts at “goodwill” included the training of personnel, lab supplies, and drugs, never gets much attention and is certainly not as interesting as the melodrama. The media did not discuss the underlying rationale that the doctor/researchers were providing something for people who had nothing, and were presumed to always be in a position to never get care.vi Fearful of the use of the hundreds of photographs of the procedures and people in the archives, I also withheld what I had from the media requests for “visuals” on October 1st 2010 when the story broke and provided them with copies of the medical records instead. I was deeply concerned that families in Guatemala would find images of a family member’s body or body parts with syphilitic chancres strewn across the Internet, or on posters at demonstrations.vii Quickly, the heads of CDC and NIH also sent out a short article in a major American medical journal that denounced what had happened, explained the protections now in place, and tried to assure everyone this vi vii Eliese Cutler, Dr. Cutler’s wife, who died in 2012, was a trained photographer, and an alumna of the college where I teach ironically, took the hundreds of photographs, including of chancres on various intimate parts of individuals’ bodies. When the records were put online, the photographs were made available, but with the faces blacked out and names obscured. Because this release was months after the story broke, nothing was made of them. Having critiqued the use of photographs in both the abortion struggle and in the study in Tuskegee, I was well aware of how these images take on a life of their own and can be misused. The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 13 could never happen again.37Thus the emotional tale of a bad doctor, a differing time, and innocent victims played out against the apology for wrongdoing set in another country and another time. The governmental reports focused on the details of how the study came about and issued a claim of blameworthiness against the doctors who ran it. Even though the Presidential Bioethical Issues Commission struggled not to tell the story as a horror movie, the news reports picked up on the number who died (even if not because of the research) and the vividness of the worst-case examples. A U.S. federal judge dismissed a subsequent lawsuit brought by Guatemalan survivors of the research in June 2012 on the basis that the U.S. has “sovereign immunity.”38 While this decision is being appealed, the issue of how to adjudicate compensation to victims of such research travesties remains problematic. How, or if, this study becomes enshrined in bioethics lore remains to be seen. HISTORICAL LESSONS In conclusion, the scholarly literature on race and melodrama warns us that it will be very difficult ever to escape such ways of telling these stories and my own struggles back up this kind of analysis. The first steps, but only the first steps, to change require there be an acknowledgement that something horrible has happened and to let the familiar elements focus our emotions to gain attention. An apology only does that—acknowledges an error or a wrong—but does not predict or control future behavior. There has to be an effort to make sure the differences between what happened in Tuskegee and Guatemala are clear, even if the same seemingly “bad guy” doctor linked them together and there can be no “vote” on which was worse. It is crucial to get the details right because otherwise later scholars will claim there was much ado about nothing if facts are blown out of proportion. (For a discussion of the problem of the “counter-narratives” on the study in Tuskegee, see Reverby 2009.4(pp.230-34)) The power of the true facts of these studies should suffice. (This statement assumes, of course, there is only one truth. For more on this problematic, see Reverby 2000.3) Today with the widespread globalization of clinical trials now taking place outside the U.S., how we regulate and watch over human subject research in other countries really matters.39 A search for other “terrible” studies might not be worthwhile while focusing on what we are doing now really does. We need to avoid just thinking about a simple good and evil, or to emphasize the individuals in stock stories, even if they must be held accountable, while we pretend that the “structural factors” that create the problems in the first place can be ignored.40 14 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 In the end, these research tragedies should not be remembered just in moral and emotive terms. In the face of “moral confusion and disarray,” literary critic Linda Williams concluded, “melodrama is organized around a paradoxical quest for full articulation of truth and virtue at precisely those junctions where truth and virtue are most vexed.”14(p.300) And yet the stories of these studies in Tuskegee and Guatemala may not seem vexed at all to most who only hear about them through rumor, quick media accounts, or the reaction to the horrible and abhorrent. These tragedies may have left a lingering sense of mistrust and impelled reassessment of research protections. They should also recall for us that physicians in under-resourced communities often say yes to research because they have few other options and they triage the “for right now” against the future. They remind us that the American doctors involved believed they were doing good science for the common good. They thought it was their responsibility to protect the nation through this kind of research, and they saw themselves as generals in a war against sexually transmitted infections where it was allowable to use the “other” as the foot soldiers. It is too simple for us to see them merely as evil men doing bad things a long time ago that contemporary researchers would never do and that somehow written informed consent alone protects against. If we fail to understand the reasoning of the doctor researchers, we can more easily fall into the same beliefs they held about the importance of our research and the seeming right to use the vulnerable who will not get care any other way.41 The late bio-ethicist Jay Katz pointed out that the Nuremberg code for generations was seen primarily as merely a “code for barbarians.”42 If we only see the researchers in Tuskegee and Guatemala as a different kind of “barbarian,” these kinds of studies will continue to happen and the mistrust of the medical and public health communities will grow. The emotion of these two studies helps us to begin to focus these concerns and should, of course, horrify us. Whether we will just weep or make change, however, depends on how we understand why these studies happened in the first place and how much the emotion motivates us toward complex changes in social policy, not just in wringing our hands, moaning over simple evil by seemingly bad men, and making up more procedural regulations. Melodrama makes for limited theater and even for “performative “apologies.43 Similarly, emotional and stock history may get us to pay attention, but it is ultimately a poor guide to making social policy and to achieving justice. Only the real drama can do that for it gets at our values and institutional structures that make these studies happen in the first place. The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 15 Acronyms List: PHS = United States Public Health Service STD = sexually transmitted disease VDRL = PHS Venereal Disease Research Laboratory About the Author: Dr. Susan M. Reverby is the Marion Butler McLean Professor in the History of Ideas and Professor of Women’s and Gender Studies at Wellesley College where she is an historian of American women, medicine, public health, and nursing. She has edited one book and written another on the Tuskegee syphilis study, winning the Arthur Viseltear Prize from the Medical Care Section of the American Public Health Association, the Sulzby Prize from the Alabama History Association and the Ralph Waldo Emerson Prize for the best book in the Humanities from national Phi Beta Kappa for Examining Tuskegee: The Infamous Syphilis Study and its Legacy. Her research uncovered the U.S. Public Health Service funded Sexually Transmitted Diseases Inoculation Studies conducted in Guatemala from 1946-1948. Acknowledgements: I am grateful to all those who listened to the lecture versions of this article across the US since 2010 and provided thoughtful feedback. I especially want to thank the late David Sencer of the CDC for his willingness to confront the past, and Ted Tulchinsky for thoughtful edits and cross-discipline debating. Conflicts of Interest: None declared. REFERENCES 1. Levine C. Has AIDS changed the ethics of human subjects research? Law Med Health Care. 1988;16:167-73. 2. Arras J. Born in scandal, raised in protectionism: the rise of contemporary research ethics. Presented at NIH-sponsored training program, Research Ethics in the Americas, FLASCO, Buenos Aires, Argentina. 29-31 May 2006. 3. Reverby SM, (editor). Tuskegee’s Truths: Rethinking the Tuskegee Syphilis Study. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press; 2000. 4. Reverby SM. Examining Tuskegee: The Infamous Syphilis Study and its Legacy. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press; 2009. 5. Reverby SM. Listening to narratives from the Tuskegee syphilis study. Lancet. 2011;377:1646-7. 6. Reverby SM. “Normal Exposure” and inoculation syphilis: a PHS “Tuskegee” doctor in Guatemala, 1946-1948. J Policy History. 2011;23:6-28. 7. U.S. Presidential Commission for the Study of Bioethical Issues. Ethically impossible: STD research in Guatemala from 1946 to 1948. Washington, DC: U.S. Presidential Commission for the Study of Bioethical Issues; September 2011. Available from URL: www.bioethics.gov (Accessed 10 January 2013). 16 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 8. U.S. Presidential Commission on Bioethical Issues. Moral science: protecting participants in human subjects research. Washington, DC: U.S. Presidential Commission for the Study of Bioethical Issues; December 2011. available at Available from URL: www.bioethics.gov (Accessed 10 January 2013). 9. Comisión Presidencial para el Esclarecimiento de los Experimentos en Humanos en Guatemala 1946-48. Comisión técnica: experimentos en seres humanos el caso Guatemala 1946- 48. Guatemala: April 2011. Available from URL: http:// enriquebolanos.org/hechos_historia/COMISIÓN PRESIDENCIAL PARA EL ESCLARECIMIENTO DE LOS Experimentos en seres humanos.pdf (Accessed 10 January 2013). [In Spanish] 10. Gamble VN. Under the shadow of Tuskegee: African Americans and health care. In: Reverby SM, (editor). Tuskegee’s Truths: Rethinking the Tuskegee Syphilis Study. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press; 2000. pp. 431-42. 11. Katz RV, Warren RC, (editors). The Search for the Legacy of the USPHS Syphilis Study at Tuskegee: Reflective Essays Based Upon Findings from the Tuskegee Legacy Projects. Lexington, KY: Lexington Books; 2011. 12. Bercovitch S. The American Jeremiad. Madison, WI: The University of Wisconsin Press; 1978. 13. Lumet S. Interview by Rose C. A discussion about the film Before the Devil Knows You’re Dead. Charlie Rose Show; 30 November 2007. Available from URL: http://www.charlierose.com/view/interview/8815 (Accessed 20 January 2011). 14. Williams L. Playing the Race Card: Melodramas of Black and White from Uncle Tom to O. J. Simpson. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press; 2001. 15. Tompkins J. Sentimental Designs: The Cultural Work of American Fiction, 1790-1860. New York, NY: Oxford University Press; 1985. 16. Gillman S. Blood Talk: American Race Melodrama and the Culture of the Occult. Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press; 2003. 17. Transcript. Barack Obama’s speech on Race. 18 March 2008. New York Times. Available from http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/18/us/politics/18text-obama. html (Accessed 20 January 2011). 18. Reverby SM. Website: Examining Tuskegee: The Infamous Syphilis Study and its Legacy. Updated 13 November 2009. Available from: http://www. examiningtuskegee.com/index.html (Accessed 10 January 2013). 19. Vonderlehr RA, Clark T, Wenger OC, Heller JR. Untreated syphilis in the male Negro: a comparative study of treated and untreated cases. JAMA. 1936;107:856-60. 20. Olansky S, Schuman SH, Peters JJ, Smith CA, Rambo DS. Untreated syphilis in the male Negro: X. Twenty years of clinical observation of untreated syphilitic and presumably nonsyphilitic groups. J Chronic Dis. 1956;4:177-85. The U.S. PHS in Tuskegee and Guatemala 17 21. Reverby SM. A new lesson from the old “Tuskegee” study. Huffington Post; 3 December 2009. Available from URL: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/susan- reverby/a-new-lesson-from-the-old_b_378649.html (Accessed 18 December 2012). 22. Benedek TG, Erlen J. The scientific environment of the Tuskegee Study of Syphilis, 1920-1960. Perspect Biol Med. 1999;43:1-30. 23. Shakir M. Ancestral voices of the living, rise-up and claim your bird of passage: an oral history with Tuskegee-Macon County women descendants of the U.S. Public Health Service Syphilis Study. Dissertation. California Institute of Integral Studies: 2011. 24. Banisky S. At 95, Tuskegee study participant Herman Shaw prefers reconciliation to recrimination, forgiveness to bitterness. The Baltimore Sun; 24 August 1997. Available from URL: http://articles.baltimoresun.com/1997-08-24/ features/1997236123_1_tuskegee-study-tuskegee-syphilis-syphilis-study (Accessed 24 December 2012). 25. Levitan S, Aragon HA, Cutler JC, Funes JM, Portnoy J, Paredes-Luna A. Clinical and serologic studies with reference to syphilis in Guatemala Central America. I. Studies of comparative performance of the Kahn, Kolmer, Mazzini, and VDRL slide tests as carried out in the national orphanage. Am J Syph Gonorrhea Vener Dis. 1952;36:379-87. 26. Funes JM, Cutler JC, Levitan S, Portnoy J, Funes R. Serologic and clinical studies of syphilis in Guatemala, Central America. II. Study of a group of school children in the port of San José. Bol Oficina Sanit Panam. 1953;34:14-8. 27. Lynch HF. Ethical evasion or happenstance and hubris? The U.S. Public Health Service STD Inoculation Study. Hastings Cent Rep. 2012;42:30-8. 28. Galarneau CA. “Ever Vigilant” in research: beyond individual responsibility in the PHS STD experiments in Guatemala,” Hastings Cent Rep. In press. 29. Moore JE. Personal communication to Parran T, 4 April 1938. Thomas Parran Papers, Box 5, Folder 23, University of Pittsburgh Archives, Pittsburgh, PA. 30. Jones JH. Bad Blood: The Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment. New York, NY: Free Press; 1981, 1993. 31. Cutler JC, Levitan S, Arnold RC, Portnoy J. Studies on the comparative behavior of various serologic tests for syphilis. II. A report on an observed pattern of entrance into seroreactivity among patients with untreated primary syphilis. Am J Syph Gonorrhea Vener Dis. 1952;36:533-44. 32. Portnoy J, Galvez R, Cutler JC. Clinical and serologic studies with reference to syphilis in Guatemala, Central America. III. Studies of comparative performance of the Kahn, Kolmer, Mazzini, and VDRL slide tests among leprosy patients. Am J Syph Gonorrhea Vener Dis. 1952;36:566-70. 33. Magnuson HJ, Thomas EW, Olansky S, Kaplan BI, De Mello L, Cutler JC. Inoculation syphilis in human volunteers. Medicine (Baltimore) 1956;35:33- 82. 18 Public Health Reviews, Vol. 34, No 1 34. Reverby SM. After the media frenzy, preventing another ‘Guatemala’. Bioethics Forum; 6 October 2010. Available from URL: http://www.thehastingscenter. org/Bioethicsforum/Post.aspx?id=4919 (Accessed 18 December 2012). 35. U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. Report on findings from the U.S. Public Health Service Sexually Transmitted Disease Inoculation Study of 1946–1948, based on review of archived papers of John Cutler, MD, at the University of Pittsburgh. Executive Summary. Washington, DC: HHS; 29 September 2010. Available from URL: http://www.hhs.gov/1946inoculation study/cdc_rept-std_inoc_study.html (Accessed 19 June 2012). 36. BBC News US & Canada. US medical tests in Guatemala ‘crime against humanity.’ BBC News US & Canada; 1 October 2010. Available from URL: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-11457552 (Accessed 20 June 2012). 37. Frieden TR, Collins FS. Intentional infection of vulnerable populations in 1946-1948: another tragic history lesson. JAMA. 2010;304:2063-4. 38. Associated Press. Guatemalan STD lawsuit dismissed. FOX News Latino; 14 June 2012. Available from: http://latino.foxnews.com/latino/health/2012/06/ 14/guatemalan-std-lawsuit-dismissed/ (Accessed 14 June 2012). 39. Obasogie O. Clinical trials on trial. New Scientist. 2011;2800:24-5. 40. Vance CS. Thinking trafficking, thinking sex. GLQ: J Lesbian Gay Studies. 2011;17:135-43. 41. Löwy I. The best possible intentions testing prophylactic approaches on humans in developing countries. Am J Public Health. 2013;103:226-37. Epub 13 December 2012. 42. Katz J. The Nuremberg Code and the Nuremberg Trial: a reappraisal. JAMA. 1996;276:1662-6. 43. Cushman T. Genocidal rupture and performative repair in global civil society: reconsidering the discourse of apology in the face of mass atrocity. In: Brudholm T, Cushman T, (editors). The Religious in Responses to Mass Atrocity: Interdisciplinary Perspectives. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press; 2009. pp. 213-41 
work_gab64pkn4val7juljk3pw5xha4	----	Chapter Eight 1 Peter Murphy Pre-Publication Archive This is a pre-publication article. It is provided for researcher browsing and quick reference. The final published version of the article is available at: ‘Nature’s God: Emerson and the Greeks’, Thesis Eleven: Critical Theory and Historical Sociology 93 (London: Sage, 2008), pp 64-71. 2 NATURE’S GOD: EMERSON AND THE GREEKS Peter Murphy ABSTRACT The essay explores the mystical impulse in the American mind, reflected in the work of William James, Kenneth Burke, and most especially the case of Ralph Waldo Emerson. The parallels and differences between Emerson’s mystical idea of Nature and the ancient Greek pre-Socratic idea of the universe as a union of opposites are explored. The divergence between the Americans and the Greeks concerning the idea of limits is reflected on. The optimism of the Americans is explained as a function of their mystical theodicy, and the greatness of their power as a function of their mystic ability, so well assayed by Emerson, to bear crushing paradoxes with a cheerful lightness of being. KEYWORDS Deism * Emerson * Jefferson * Lincoln * Bob Dylan * mystic * America * Plato * Pre-Socratic * Stoic * William James * Kenneth Burke * slavery * Christianity * liberty * nature * God The Americans performed an unusual Hegelian operation on the Protestant religion that they imported from Europe. They turned it on its head. Ralph Waldo Emerson, who became America’s foremost philosophical essayist, was the beneficiary and perpetuator, and one could even say the mighty consolidator, of this spiritual gymnastics. Emerson conceived religion in non-literary terms. In this, he was in agreement with the main current of American Protestants. Bookish religion had already been dismissed by eighteenth-century Deists. Jefferson literally took the scissors to the Bible. After the First Great Awakening in the early nineteenth century, bookish religion in America faded yet further and faster. The consequence of this is well known to everyone of my age and generation. It is called pop music, America’s most potent export to the world after film. Non-literary 3 religions, or to give them their proper name, mystic religions, are great for the visual arts and music. The American gift for popular music has its source in this. It grew out of the mystic religion of America. Emerson provides a very useful guide to understand the peculiar religiosity of America. Mostly he is a good guide because he manages to articulate what is inarticulate, and yet so resonant, in so much American religious feeling. This is a sense of the sacred as all-pervading or pantheistic. The most powerful transformation that America performed on Protestantism was to turn it into a vernacular mysticism. This is a religion that relies neither on the Word nor the Book. About a quarter of Americans report that they believe in a ‘Distant God’. 1 This God is not active in the world. This is not a punitive, angry, or judging God. It is neither sweet nor benevolent. This God does not judge or punish. This God does not care. Rather the Distant God is a cosmic force that sets the laws of nature in motion and permeates Nature. It is this God that has mystical overtones. The idea of mysticism is easily misunderstood. When talked up, it often ends up as the province of cranks and buffoons. Yet it was William James, the great American philosopher and the brother of Henry James, who identified mysticism as one of the principal modes of religious experience (James: 379-429). William and his brother, the brilliant American novelist, were the offspring of Henry Snr. (Henry Walsh James) whose own religious beliefs were a half-way house between Scotch-Irish Presbyterianism and the mystic Emanuel Swedenborg who himself had a deep impact on the thought of Emerson. William James clearly inherited an excellent feeling for mysticism from his upbringing. William’s account of mysticism in The Varieties of Religious Experience is exceptionally insightful. He skillfully surveys traditions of Hindu, Sufi, Christian and Buddhist mystics. He concludes that these traditions are remarkably similar, and describes the principal generic characteristics of mysticism in the following way: First, mysticism ‘invariably’ is ‘reconciliation’. It is as if everything was ‘rolled into unity’ (James: 389). 4 Second, it is non discursive. Instead of speech and writing it emphasizes intuition and the art of breathing (pneuma) and meditative concentration. Third, the primary medium of mystical truth is not conceptual speech but short- lived episodes of ecstasy, excitement, elevation, elation, and ebriety. 2 Fourth, mysticism unleashes an indomitable spirit and energy, often in the form of great suffering. It entails a typical paradox of the mystic—that I am tormented by not being allowed to suffer enough. 3 Fifth, paradox is the mystical cast of mind. Mystics have no difficulty imagining states of unrestful rest, vast shallowness, dazzling obscurity, reverberating silence or teeming deserts. Sixth, the primary mood of the mystic is the optimistic yes-state, the state of elation. Whereas the sobriety of the saint diminishes, discriminates and says ‘no’, the exuberant spiritual drunkenness of the mystic expands, unites and says ‘yes’. In the American setting, certain aspects of mysticism can probably be best understood as the sociologist Kenneth Burke did (Burke: 197). Mysticism is a conception of the ultimate order of things. This is because, as Burke explains, the mystic invariably aims to encompass conflicting orders of motivation—such as body and spirit. The mystic does this not by outlawing any order but by finding a place for each order in a ‘developmental’ series. One term leads into another, ensuring that the completion of each leads to the next. Burke observes that when the vocabulary of the mystic is most accurate, we do not find a flat antithesis between body and spirit but rather the body is treated as a way into the spirit. The antitheses of vocabulary, thus, are short cuts to each other. They are harsh ways of presenting the extremities of the developmental communion of body and spirit. The analogy with language, and Burke’s treatment of mysticism using the techniques of the literary theorist, has its limits. For the paradox of the mystic is to talk about what can not (ultimately) be spoken about. ‘My love she speaks like silence/Without ideals or violence’ (Dylan: 1965). Emerson lived this paradox. In his Essays, he draws on Stoic, Platonic, and Neo-Platonic ideas to formulate a sense of God as Nature, enveloping and pervading all things. This nature is not discursive. It is not 5 prescriptive. It is not a citable authority. ‘The faith that stands on authority is not faith,’ Emerson remarks (226). 4 The deists of America’s founding generation often avoided the term God altogether. They talked about ‘Providence’ or the ‘Being in whose hands we are’. The God of Nature was ‘the Power that rules the destinies of the Universe’. Americans today still speak in deist terms about a ‘higher power’. Nature’s God is not the God of any particular religion—it is not even obviously the Christian God. It is not the God of tradition or the God of rhetoric (224). ‘The soul answers never by words’ (219). This maxim of Emerson’s indicates something essential about American religion. It is not, or at least a major part of it is not, a literary tradition. It is not creedal or discursive. It is not a religion of reason. Emerson puts it simply this way: one cannot ‘answer in words’ anyone who asks a metaphysical question (219). For any possible description of God is a description that does not describe. Emerson called this Nature, or Nature’s God, the ‘over soul’. This is not a particularly elegant term. In fact it is very inelegant. It has none of the precision of the term that it mimicked—the Stoic ‘world soul’. Nonetheless the Nature propounded by the Stoics and by Emerson shared many of the same attributes. Emerson described the over soul as the great nature in which we rest. It is like the earth cradled in the soft arms of the atmosphere (210). It is the Unity in which every person’s being is contained. Each of us lives in succession, division and parts but within each one of us is the soul of the whole. This is the eternal One, the wise silence, and the universal beauty to which every part and particle is related (211). If we see the world piece by piece, as sun, moon, animal and tree, the whole (of which these are parts) is the soul. The soul in Man is not an organ. Rather it animates and exercises all of the organs, and breathes through the intellect and the will (212). Emerson (212) put it more or less exactly as the ancient Stoics had: the soul is breath (pneuma, spirit). And, like the Stoics, Emerson invites us to obey Nature. That is only reform worth considering, he suggests. This Stoic idea of God is not in the least like the Creator God of the Hebraic Old Testament, the God of genesis (‘In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…’) Nor does it resemble the Mosaic God of the Ten Commandments, the God who issues moral ‘thou shalts’ to be obeyed. There is a Hebraic and Mosaic strain in American 6 religion, from which much remonstrating and finger pointing comes. But this moralizing strain is different from the belief in Nature’s God. The American Emersonian God, like the ancient Stoic one, is pantheistic. This is not to say that it is simply Stoicism reborn. The spirit of it rather parallels those older Romans who merged Stoicism, and its sense of the world-soul, with Plato. This was not the Greek Plato but the Plato of Plotinus, the mystical Plato. There are strong echoes of the Roman mystical Plato in Emerson’s summoning of Being. This Being is compared with the ocean, the surge of the sea, and the stream of light. This Nature is unlike Greek nature. The Greeks were very conscious of limits. Mystical Nature in contrast is illimitable. It is vast (182). It refuses limits (183). In many ways, Neo-Platonism is the perfect theory for a republic of expansion. Emerson’s world without question is expansive. Virtue means ‘adding’ to this world, planting the deserts conquered from chaos and nothing (183). Accordingly, the soul’s life is one of progress, not of station. The soul, in the sense of the world-soul, is capable of infinite enlargement (224). It is an ‘immensity not possessed and that cannot be possessed’ (211). It is independent of all of the limits that circumscribe individuals (212). It is possessed of the ‘power of growth’ (224). It is set upon a course of ‘enlargement’ and ‘divine expansion’, ‘up and onward forever more’ (185). But does this not raise the temptation of hubris? Perhaps it is the case that the cosmos, or the Stoic soul of the cosmos, is infinite, but are there not limits beyond which society and self should not step? Are there not limits to enlargement? Does not the power of growth invite overreach and disaster? Emerson answers this conundrum in this way: the waters of the ocean of infinity ebb and flow. The spirit, pneuma, is the breath in and out. Being is expansive but Being ebbs and flows, in and out. Being is tidal. Its grace is governed by gravity. The cosmos both grows and breathes. This permits it to be both vast and just (or at least benevolent). This is important if we are to understand American theology, or more properly speaking American theodicy. This world, the world of the world-soul, is the best of all possible worlds. Its God (the soul, breath and spirit of the world) is good. It is a ‘vast affirmation’ that negates negation. Here we see the source of American optimism, the dominant social emotion of America. Of all possible things, here is the thing that 7 Europeans find most puzzling about Americans. They, the Americans, are incurable optimists. They are optimistic because they feel deeply that they live in the best possible world. Even the social critics whose business is to find fault, even the dissenters and the angry Americans, the ‘mad as hell’ fist shakers, feel that this is so at some deep level in some ineffable way. The optimism of the Americans is in sharp contrast to dominant emotional tone of the Europeans. From the Gothic age onwards, the Europeans came to believe equally deeply in the ‘via negativa’. This is the idea that the animating spirit of life is negative and that Being is Nothingness. In contrast, America is the negation of this negation. Emerson put it this way: ‘Nothing’ may be the great Night on which the living universe paints itself, but no fact is begotten by this. For this ‘Nothing’, this Being that is Nothing, is vacuous: ‘… it cannot work, for it is not. It cannot work any good; it cannot work any harm…’ (182). Thus the soul always affirms an optimism, never a pessimism (183). Even evil is not a negation but part of this vast affirmation. But surely that is naïve? How can evil possibly be for the good? Is this not a Panglossian sentiment? How can terrible things that happen to individuals and societies be reconciled with optimism? How can parents who have to live with the death of a child in a road crash know that grief and tragedy are only for a time but that goodness, remembrance, and love have no end? How is such a thing conceivable? Emerson’s answer is that everything has two sides: a good side and a bad side (182). Being human is paradoxical. The paradox of the human condition is that the worst leads to the best and the best to the worst. Our strength grows out of our weakness (80). For every gift that we have, we also have a defect (169). For every grain of wit in human beings there is a grain of folly (169). For every moment of power we have, comes one of privation. Each President pays dearly for his White House, concludes Emerson. Thus evils exist, but they are governed by the remedial nature of the universe. Bad counsel rebounds on the giver of it (176). Causing a wrong causes the suffering of wrong. This paradox echoes through the American experience. The founding American question was not ‘how do we achieve self-government?’ but how do with live in our own house with both liberty and slavery? That founding antinomy, of slavery and liberty, lies at the very heart of what is enigmatic about America. 8 Thomas Jefferson, as we know, was an enlightenment statesman and a southern slaveowner. He crafted a string of legislative proposals to shut the door on slavery in America. But most of them failed. They were rejected by his fellow legislators. Other lawmakers, later on, were more successful than Jefferson in outlawing some parts of the slave system. 5 But they were not successful enough. Jefferson understood the necessary, which is also to say tragic, consequences of his own failure and that of others. He knew that the national crime would bring forth a national punishment, as Benjamin Rush warned. 6 In his Second Inaugural Speech in 1865 Lincoln concluded that America would continue to pay the price of Civil War ‘until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword’. This was the remedial justice of Heraclitus at work. It was great suffering incurred for great wrong doing. Enslavement, the treating of a person as property, did not simply violate expectations of reciprocity. It was not merely unjust. Rather it placed the slave entirely beyond the compass of reciprocity. Slavery was wrong because the slave was cast outside of the very possibility of any kind of reciprocity. Slavery was absolutely unjust. Even the serf who was bound to the soil had an expectation of reciprocity—protection in exchange for labor. The slave had no such expectation. The slave could not rely on or appeal to the reciprocity of the Old Testament (an eye for an eye), or that of the Greeks (measure for measure), or that of the Christians (love for love). Nature’s law is ‘give, and it shall be given you’. ‘Water and you shall be watered in turn’ (175). The violation of such reciprocity is a violation of Nature. The absolute denial of reciprocity is a double violation of Nature. Do it, and you shall be violated in turn. People often appeal to ‘the law of Nature’ but also often find it difficult to explain what it is. When they do find an explanation, they frequently assume that the ‘law of Nature’ is ‘a moral law that is superior to existing social law’. Sometimes it is also supposed that there is a divine author of that moral law. Thus natural law is assumed to be scriptural, textual or prophetic. But Emerson’s ‘law of nature’ is none of these things. It does not command us to ‘be good’ or to ‘do good works’. It does not even command. It 9 simply states that as things expand, they ebb and flow. For every gain, there is a loss; for every rise, a decline. That is how nature is structured. It is like breathing—in and out. This pneumatic nature includes human nature, social nature and cosmic nature. Nature is a paradox. Nature is One, yet it is also Two. Nature is a Unity yet all things that are part of this One are Double, each one against another (175). For every right there is a wrong; for every good, a bad. The universe—that which is singular—is filled with all kinds of polarities. We have to negotiate hot and cold, light and dark, centrifugal and centripetal forces. Whatever we do, there are subtle remedial relations between ‘spirit, matter; man, woman; odd, even; subjective, objective; in, out; upper, under; motion, rest; yea, nay’ (168). The idea of Nature’s God is skeptical of scripts, texts, prophecies and commands. It is not the expression of a literary religion or a prophetic one. It does, though, owe something to the Pre-Socratic Greek view of the universe as a union of contrary forces and qualities. The Pre-Socratics, however, supposed that the universe was limited. Anything that expanded would eventually overstep a limit. At that point, Nature would remedy itself. Once something big grew too big, and threatened to extinguish something small, Nature would adjust the relationship between the big and the small, bringing them back into alignment. American Nature, in contrast is without limit. It was not only Emerson who reflected this but also that other paradigmatic American thinker, John Dewey. Dewey (1948) insisted that because American Nature was unlimited, American thought had firmly divorced itself from the Greeks. Emerson, though, did something more striking. His Neo-Platonism allowed him to reconcile what Dewey thought as irreconcilable. From the Pre-Socratics and Plato comes the sense of the polarities of the universe and from the Romans, from Plotinus, comes the sense of the infinite and unlimited nature of the universe. The expansion of Emerson’s Nature oscillates between poles. Its growth is antipodal and rhythmic. It moves forwards but also looks backwards. It is strong and weak, up and down, male and female. Its unlimited expansion thus entails inherent, inescapable, if paradoxical, limits. 10 Peter Murphy is Associate Professor of Communications at Monash University and author of Civic Justice (2001) and co-author with David Roberts of Dialectic of Romanticism (2004). Email: Peter.Murphy@arts.monash.edu.au mailto:Peter.Murphy@arts.monash.edu.au 11 References Burke, Kenneth (1989) On Symbols and Society edited by Joseph R. Gusfield. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Dewey, John (1948) Reconstruction in Philosophy. Boston: Beacon Press. Dylan, Bob (1965) Love Minus Zero/No Limit. Los Angeles: Warner Brothers Publishing. Emerson, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1977), The Portable Emerson edited by Carl Bode and Malcolm Cowley. New York: Penguin. James, William (1985 [1902]), The Varieties of Religious Experience. New York: Penguin. 12 Notes 1 The 2006 Baylor Religion Survey reports that 31% of Americans believe in a punishing Old Testament God; 24% in a Distant God; 23% in a helping Benevolent God; and 16% in a Critical God. The Critical God observes the world and makes notes for rendering judgment in the after-life. Believe in a Distant God tends to be held by men more than women, and by high income earners and the college- educated. 2 Notably, these are all characteristics of American popular music. 3 The life story of the French philosopher mystic, Simone Weil, is a good example of this. 4 All page references to Emerson’s work are from Emerson, 1977. 5 In 1854, in response to Senator Stephen Douglas, Lincoln elegantly summed up the legislative roll back of slavery to that date: ‘In 1794, they prohibited an out-going slave trade--that is, the taking of slaves from the United States to sell. In 1798, they prohibited the bringing of slaves from Africa into the Mississippi Territory--this territory then comprising what are now the States of Mississippi and Alabama. This was TEN YEARS before they had the authority to do the same thing as to the States existing at the adoption of the constitution. In 1800, they prohibited AMERICAN CITIZENS from trading in slaves between foreign countries--as, for instance, from Africa to Brazil. In 1803, they passed a law in aid of one or two States laws, in restraint of the internal slave trade. In 1807, in apparent hot haste, they passed the law, nearly a year in advance, to take effect the first day of 1808--the very first day the constitution would permit--prohibiting the African slave trade by heavy pecuniary and corporal penalties. In 1820, finding these provisions ineffectual, they declared the trade piracy, and annexed to it the extreme penalty of death. While all this was passing in the general government, five or six of the original slave States had adopted systems of gradual emancipation; by which the institution was rapidly becoming extinct within these limits. Thus we see, the plain unmistakable spirit of that age, towards slavery, was hostility to the PRINCIPLE, and toleration, only by necessity.’ 6 Dr. Benjamin Rush, Address upon Slavekeeping. 
work_gbs47bxpfjfetjhhycde7xhvdy	----	Torre dei Schiavi Monument and Metaphor Charles C. Eldredge Thomas Hotcbkiss, Torre di Schiavi (detail), 1865. Oil on canvas 22 3/8 x 34 3/4 in. National Museum of American Art, Smith- sonian Institution, Museum Purchase When Benjamin West landed on Italy's ancient shores, he was fol- lowing the path of generations of Grand Tourists. Italy, especially Rome, was, after all, the center of European civilization and from an- cient times had drawn visitors from near and far. While but a single pil- grim in the long line to Rome, West was at the same time a pioneer for generations of American artists who would follow in his wake, drawn by the city's special history and character. The distinctive nature of central Italian light and topography, which had profoundly affected Claude Lorrain and altered the subsequent course of landscape painting, was scarcely the sole attraction of which the area could boast. The an of the Old Masters was a major lure for the Grand Tourists of the eighteenth century, as were the sculpted artifacts and architectural remains of the ancients. These reminiscences of the classical world were everywhere apparent along the Tiber and inescapably molded perceptions and depictions of the Eternal City. As archaeologists exhumed this storehouse of a storied past, artists delineated the ruins, with exacti- tude or caprice. Giambattista Piranesi's famed views of the antiq- uities of Rome excited the imagina- tions of connoisseurs throughout Europe and even in colonial Amer- ica, to which his engravings easily and readily traveled. Giovanni Pannini's compositions based upon Roman monuments, precisely drawn if fancifully rearranged, simi- larly enjoyed great vogue among the patrons of his day. Given this widespread enthusiasm for things Roman, it was little wonder that Benjamin West, the New World's first artist-ambassador to Europe, was determined "to visit the foun- tainhead of the arts" and in 1760 headed to Rome.1 West, who left Italy for London in 1763, was followed by John Sin- gleton Copley, who arrived in Rome in 1774. The familiar land- marks with which Pannini and col- leagues had preoccupied them- selves reappeared tellingly in the background of Copley's portrait of the American Italophiles Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Izard, painted in 1775. The couple posed amid their Old World finery before a distant pros- pect of the Colosseum. That such trappings were significant both to artists and sitters of many nationali- ties is suggested by J. H. W. Tischbein's renowned portrait Goethe in the Roman Campagna (1787), with the Tomb of Caecilia Metella and other favorite sites in the background, or Jean Ingres's equally acclaimed portrayal of his colleague Frangois Granet (1807), posed before the Quirinal. After the turn of the nineteenth century, the pioneering travels of West and Copley were repeated by increasing numbers of American artists, for whom Italy became a fa- vorite destination during their Eu- ropean sojourns. Between 1796 15 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 1 Robert Burford, Explanation of the Pan- orama of Rome Ancient & Modern, ca. 1840, Published in Burford, Description of a View of the City of Rome (New York: William Osborn, 1840) and 1815, John Vanderlyn spent all but two years abroad, dividing his time between Paris and Rome. In Rome in 1807 he composed his ac- claimed Marius Amidst the Ruins of Carthage, which reflected the art- ist s mastery of antique history ren- dered in tight, neoclassical style. The American taste for figures and ruins, as well as for Italy in general, reached its high point in the mid nineteenth century, as seen for in- stance in the work of the expatriate William Page. In 1860 he painted a romantic image of his wife before the Colosseum, an edifice that she, the quintessential Italophile, im- pressively dominates. While Vanderlyn and Page and many others worked in Rome, the fascina- tion with the ancient capital extend- ed far beyond the city's bound- aries. In his Paris studio in the early 1840s, the fashionable por- traitist George P. A. Healy painted Euphemia Van Rensselaer—with Roman ruins in the distance. Italomania was by then wide- spread, indeed so much so that Ralph Waldo Emerson worried, "My countrymen a r e . . . infatuated with the rococo toy of Europe. All America seems on the point of em- barking."2 The "dream of Arcadia"— as Thomas Cole entitled a key work of 1838—exercised a potent effect on the imaginations of nineteenth-century Americans and, from about 1825 to 1875, motivated the travels and the productions of many writers and artists. It was James Russell Lowell who perhaps best explained the American fasci- nation. "Italy," he wrote, was classic ground and this not so much by association with great events as with great men [T]o the American Italy gave cheaply what gold cannot buy for him at home, a past at once legendary> and authentic, and in which he has an equal claim with every other for- eigner. In England he is a poor re- lation ... in France his notions are purely English... but Rome is the mother country of every boy who devoured Plutarch Italy gives us antiquity with good roads, cheap living, and above all, a sense of freedom from responsibility... the sense of permanence, un- changeableness and repose.3 The whole of Italy, from Etna to the northern lakes, was rich in his- toric associations. But, for the mid- nineteenth-centurv traveler, as for his predecessors, it was to Rome that attention was particularly di- rected. Viewed from the Pincian or other Roman hilltops, or from the EXPLANATION OF TH£ MNOKAMA OF ROM I ANCIENT* MOUEKN 3 Fall 1987 far reaches of the Campagna, the dome of St. Peters and the city's fabled ruins inspired hushed rev- erence in nearly every visitor. Worthington Whittredges recollec- tions of his first glimpse of the city was typical of most Americans: "To me, born in a log cabin and reared in towns of low flat-roofed houses of pine and hemlock, the picture of Rome at last before my eyes was quite enough to inspire me with feelings of reverence and humility. I could not speak, or did not, and observed that the other passengers [in the carriage] were similarly affected."4 Understandably, artists sought to capture the grand sight, on can- vases, daguerreotypes, or even in monumental panoramas, such as that by the noted English specialist of the genre Robert Burford, which was first exhibited in New York in 1840 and shown again in Philadel- phia two years later—appropriately at the Coliseum (fig. 1). Ameri- cans, of course, were not alone in this fascination. Goethe's "discov- ery" of Rome in the late eighteenth century led to an equivalent migra- tion of German artists, who min- gled in Rome with painters and sculptors from the Scandinavian countries, France, Russia, and En- gland, all drawn by the region's pe- culiar appeal. Painters particularly delighted in the scenic possibilities of decaying monuments (fig. 2). For Thomas Cole, it was the Colosseum, "beauti- ful in its destruction," which, he said, "affected me most." "From the broad arena within," he recalled, it rises around you, arch above arch, broken and desolate, and mantled in many parts with... plants and flowers, exquisite both for their color and fragrance. It looks more like a work of nature than of man, for the regularity of art is lost, in a great measure, in dilapidation, and the luxuriant herbiage, clinging to its ruins as if to "mouth its distress" completes the illusion. Crag rises over crag, green and breezy summits mount into the sky.5 The overgrown arcades attracted as well the admiration of Rembrandt Peale, who, like most of the artists, regretted the program of cleaning up the monuments that was begun in the early nineteenth century. In- spired by recollections of a "beauti- ful wilderness of ruins, vines and shrubbery," he suggested that "some spots [be] left neglected and covered with plants and shrubs, as a sample of its former guise." Peale's advice, however, went un- heeded, leaving later artists, like Elihu Vedder, to lament that "the ruins were wonderfully beautiful before they were 'slicked up.'" "Slicked up" or not, the monu- ments cast their spell over visitors for most of the century. The "ro- mance of ruins" was described as "one of the most innocent and in- structive pleasures in which one may indulge," and thousands succumbed.6 The fascination with decay was more sentimental than morbid. Al- though most American artists did not wind up in Rome's Protestant Cemetery, many visitors would have understood the poetic senti- ment of Shelley (who is interred in Rome): "It could make one in love with death to think of being buried in so sweet a place."7 If Rome inspired sweet thoughts of mortality, the unsettled Cam- pagna outside its ancient walls did not always do likewise. To many early travelers, it was a bleak land of "solitude, dust and tombs."8 The wild and hilly Campagna was the domain of malaria and banditti, a dangerous "desert" whose traverse was required to achieve the art- pilgrim's goal. Hippolyte Taine thought it like "an abandoned cemetery... the sepulchre of 4 Smithsonian Studies in American Art Rome, and of all the nations she destroyed All antiquity, indis- criminately, lies buried here under the monstrous city which devoured them, and which died of its sur- feit." Wrote another visitor in 1820, "Rome . . . stood alone in the wil- derness, as in the world, sur- rounded by a desert of her own creation . . . pestilent with disease and death [L]ike a devouring grave, it annually engulphs [sic] all of human kind that toil upon its surface."9 During the nineteenth century, as highway safety improved and as methods to deal with the threats of malaria developed, travelers pushed farther beyond the limits of the city. The Campagna had to be crossed to reach the pictur- esque towns of Tivoli, Albano, and their neighbors in the Sabine Hills, which drew increasing numbers of travelers. As familiarity grew and se- curity improved, the reactions of travelers to the Campagnas wastes changed. Instead of the "fearsome loneliness" experienced by an ear- lier traveler, William Wetmore Story, one of Rome s greatest propa- gandists, found the Campagna air "filled with a tender sentiment of sadness which makes the beauty of the world about you touching."10 To his many readers Bayard Taylor recommended the view from the Campagna. While "there was noth- ing particularly beautiful or sub- lime in the landscape," he noted, "few other scenes on earth com- bine in one glance such a myriad of mighty associations, or bewilder the mind with such a crowd of con- fused emotions." In time, the re- gion came to seem almost homey. Charles Dickens, visiting in the early 1860s, noted that one Cam- pagna view, "where it was most level, reminded me of an American prairie." Indeed one American tour- ist, familiar with the Midwest, wrote that the Campagnas "wheat- fields, extending far and wide, are like those of Illinois."11 Along with the tourists, painters extended their rambles through the historic landscape, searching for the perfect fragment of broken aqueduct, the artistic effect of sun- set across verdant land, the colorful herdsman tending his flock amid the ruins. Van Wyck Brooks created a memorable word picture of these artists, who, "with Claude on the brain," haunted the Campagna, painting all day until twilight, willing to run the risks of the chill and the night mist, hoping to catch a little of the wonder of the sunset; and then hurrying in to pass the gates before these were closed in the eve- ning, man]elling over the purple clouds behind,the purpler Alban Hills and the mellow golden glow in the sky at the west.12 Ruined aqueducts, the "camels of the Campagna" that had brought precious water to ancient Rome from the distant hills, provided a favorite motif for nineteenth- century painters, as did the pictur- esque ruins along the old Appian Way. Another favored destination, to the east of the city along the Via Praenestina, was the remains of the villa of the Gordian emperors (fig. 3), who reigned from A.D. 237 to 244. The site, which was known as the Torre dei Schiavi, lay about two and one-half miles beyond the Porta Maggiore, crowning a rise in the landscape above the flow of the Acqua Bollicante. It was praised in guidebooks as "one of the most pic- turesque and interesting points in the Campagna."13 The complex was constructed amid and over the remains of ear- lier Antonine cisterns and build- ings. The new imperial country house was remarkable for its size; the ruins stretched along nearly a mile of the roadway. Begun by Gordian pere, a cultivated man of letters, the villa was subsequently 18 Fall 1987 3 Veduta delle Religuie della Villa dei Gordiani. Engraving in Luigi Canina, Gli edifizj antichi dei contorni di Roma, vol 6 (Rome, 1856), plate 106 4 Terme e Ninfeo della Villa dei Gordiani (elevations, sections, and plans). Engrav- ing in Luigi Canina, Gli edifizj antichi dei contorni di Roma, vol 6 (Rome, 1856), plate 107 occupied by Gordian III, who shared his father's passion for books, amassing a library of sixty thousand volumes. But the epicu- rean son also collected in other ar- eas, boasting twenty-two concu- bines, by each of whom he sired three or.four children—perhaps ac- counting for the size of the subur- ban spread. Three main elements composed the villa: sumptuous baths; the "heroon" or mausoleum, a circular building oriented toward the high- way in the best Vitruvian fashion; and a large colonnaded structure incorporating three basilicas. Of these, only ruins remained in the nineteenth century, although the form of the mausoleum was still readily apparent, as was a corner of an octagonal bath. Contemporary descriptions by the Roman chronicler Julius Capitolinus suggest the elaborate scale and decoration of this majes- tic home. The Gordian villa, he wrote, "was remarkable for the magnificence of a portico with four ranges of columns, fifty of which were of Carystian, fifty of Claudian, fifty of Synnadan [or Phrygian], and fifty of Nubian marble." Remnants of these colorful, imported stones were recovered in archaeological excavations which began in earnest in the early nineteenth century. "There were also three basilicas of corresponding size, particularly some thermae, more magnificent than any others in the world, ex- cept those in Rome" (fig. 4).14 The circular mausoleum was likened by a number of nineteenth- century travel writers to the Pan- theon, but its modest scale—fifty- six feet interior diameter—and method of construction are more analogous to the Temple of Romu- lus on the Appian Way. The brick- work of the Gordian villa and the engineering of the vaults were char- acteristically late Roman; the pio- neering archaeologist Antonio Nibby even claimed that the Gordian mausoleum was "the most ancient of this type of construction" and served as the model for the more familiar landmark near the Circus of Romulus on the Via Ap- pia. Four large round windows, of which two remain intact, permitted light into the upper story; there, a series of niches, alternating square 19 Smithsonian Studies in American Art and round, presumably contained sculpture. Augustus Hare noted that the splendid statue of Livia in the Torlonia Museum was found at the site and that works of that type originally embellished the entire complex.15 A subterranean room similarly contained straight and arched niches and was supported at its center by a large round pillar. Adjacent to the circular structure were the vast basilican building and the baths, of which little remains. Long after the dissipated Gordian III was murdered by his troops, his Campagna homesite was put to very different purposes. Remains of frescoes, which in the nineteenth century were still evi- dent in the mausoleums vault, sug- gest that the structure served as a medieval church. A frieze of saints and other Christian subjects was painted beneath the oculi in what was probably the church o f San An- drea, razed in A.D. 984.16 The ruins served military as well as religious purposes. The octagonal room re- maining from the ornate baths was transformed into a watchtower in the late Roman Empire by building walls over the apselike vault, strengthening it at the center with a thick Saracenic column, and top- ping it with a newly constructed tower. To Karl Baedeker, writing in 1867, this curious pastiche "im- parled] a grotesque aspect to the place"—and doubtless enhanced its allure.17 Eventually the Gordian villa site came to be known as the Torre dei Schiavi, a designation originally oc- casioned by the curious, broken watchtower but later applied to the distinctive mausoleum and ulti- mately to the entire region. The ori- gins of the name are uncertain. In the nineteenth century it was often referred to by English-speaking visi- tors as the "Tower of Slaves," al- though at least one travel guide specifically cautioned against such a literal translation with its allusion to Roman slavery. Instead, Bruno Schrader traced the name to the wealthy Schiavi family of the fif- teenth century, one of whose mem- bers, Vincenzo dello Schiavo, was prominent in Rome as late as 1562.18 The ruins along the Via Praenestina lay largely ignored for centuries following the construc- tion o f the watchtower and the raz- ing of San Andrea. Few travelers and fewer artists were drawn to the site until, in the seventeenth cen- tury, Piranesi turned to the ruins for inspiration. Among his cele- brated views of the Roman antiqui- ties are several plates featuring the ruined villa and its environs (fig. 5).19 He drew the stucco orna- ments of foliation and animals in the octagonal bath, which he mis- took for a tomb, and in his engrav- ings of the mausoleum he made the common misidentification of the site as a temple. In the following century, tour- ism outside the walls of Rome re- mained scarce. Francois Joullain was among the apparent few who made the pilgrimage to the Torre, perhaps attracted to it by Piranesi's prints, which remained popular among R o m e s visitors and cogno- scenti. Joullains small panel is char- acteristic of the views of Roman monuments popular with collec- tors of the period (fig. 6). He has anticipated the later "slickening up" o f the ruins by transforming the broken and irregular form of the mausoleum into a tidy sheep- fold. The rustic, mangerlike setting, the multiple lamb references, the gesturing, Magus-like figure at the left, and the mother and child with father, combine in an unexpected suggestion of a Nativity on the Campagna. The villa of a degener- ate emperor would surely be an un- likely setting for such an extraordi- nary event—if that indeed was what the artist intended—and 20 Fall 1987 Veduta degli Avanzi di Fabbrica magnifica sepolcrale... vicina a Torre de1 Schiavi... Published in Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Le antichita romane (Rome: Stamperia di Angelo Rotilj\ 1756), plate 60 FranqoisJoullain, Torre dei Schiavi, n.d. Oil on wood, 9 7/16 x 12 3/4 in. Bowdoin College Museum of Art, Bruns- wick, Maine, Bequest of The Hon. James Bowdoin III Joullain s rare choice of the Torre setting suggests that in his time there was little understanding of the site's historical importance. That appreciation did not come until the early years of the nine- teenth century, when the ruins at- tracted the attention of archaeolo- gists. The recovery of precious decorative materials and of such treasures as the Torlonia Livia lent new interest to the Torre dei Schiavi, and excavations were con- ducted nearly continuously from the 1830s to the 1870s. The site simultaneously attracted attention for a very different reason—it was there that Rome's large community of German artists assembled for their annual Walpurgisnacht festivals, events which grew in popularity through the middle decades of the century (fig. 7). The German revels quickly became a popular attraction for Ro- man visitors of many nationalities, 21 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 7 Ippolito Caffi, The Artists' Party7 near Tor de' Schiavi, 1839. Oil on canvas, 32 1/4 x 58 11/16 in. Museo di Roma whose carriages followed the art- ists' procession across the Cam- pagna to the Torre dei Schiavi. Many of the era's travel accounts took note of the colorful event. "I do not think a foreign colony ever or- ganized abroad a national festival with spirit and originality to com- pare with this," wrote Francis Wey; "the enormity of the farce in it rep- resents the old German gaiety, while the picturesque display of the spec- tacle could only have been imag- ined by artists."20 The artists' fol- lies inevitably attracted other paint- ers from Rome's international com- munity, such as Henri Regnault, who made illustrations of the Wal- purgisnacht festivities, and Walter Crane, who later recounted one such May Day spectacle: The central feature of the one I re- member was a gorgeous domed Moorish divan on wheels, with an Emperor of Morocco and his harem sitting inside; behind and be- fore went a great company of art- ists of all nationalities in all sorts of costumes—some as seventeenth- century Spanish cavaliers on horse- back, some as burlesque field mar- shals with enormous cocked hats, jackboots, and sabres riding on donkeys. The caterer of the picnic (a well-known artists colorman) was attired as a sort of white liz- ard, with a tall conical hat, and a long robe on which were painted lobsters, salads and other sugges- tions of luncheon.21 The crowd of artists and follow- ers assembled at the Torre dei Schiavi and from there proceeded across the Campagna for several miles to the grotto of Cervara (fig. 8). "At the moment of departure," wrote Wey, on a car festooned with garlands and drawn by four great oxen whose ample horns have been gilded, appears the President in the midst of his court of chamberlains, of madmen, and poets; he passes his countrymen in review, makes them a solemn and grotesque dis- course, and distributes to the wor- thiest the knightly order of the Baiocco; then the procession pro- ceeds on its way, escorted by its fourgon of wines, its cooking bat- tery, and its cup bearers, towards the grottos, chosen for a monster festival on account of their fresh- ness and their darkness, which is favorable to the effects of illumination. Upon arriving at the caves of Cervara, the artists entered: "At the bottom of the grotto a high priest calls up the Sibyl who, appearing in the midst of Bengal fires, recites 22 Fall 1987 8 Henri Regnault, German Masquerading; The March Past. Wood engraving, in Fran- cis Wey, Rome (New York: D. Appleton, 1875) in comic verses the exploits of the school, and prophesies the desti- nies of its artists for the following year. A Homeric supper prepared and served by our friends on stone tables in the heart of the cavern, which is lighted by torches and fes- tooned by garlands, precedes the return."22 The annual outing, how- ever frivolous, was also decorous, and George Hillard was able to re- assure his American readers that al- though "the day is spent in the wildest and most exuberant frolic, [it] rarely or never, however, degen- erate^] into vulgar license or coarse excess, but preserves] the flavor of wit and the spice of genu- ine enthusiasm."23 The May Day rites at the Torre dei Schiavi provided an important occasion for artists of various na- tionalities to celebrate together on common ground. Equally impor- tant, the festivities introduced many in the Roman community for the first time to the Gordian ruins and their beautiful views across the Campagna. It was, after all, the scenic splendor of this rise in the countryside that had lured the em- perors in the first place, and that beauty remained undiminished af- ter fifteen hundred years. Hillard recommended the site to his read- ers, for though these ruins are not much in themselves, they are so happily placed that they form a favorite sub- ject for artists. [T]he chief charm of the spot consists in the unrivalled beauty of the distant view which it commands; revealing, as it does, all the characteristic features of the Campagna. On the extreme left, towers the solitary bulk of Soracte, a hermit mountain which seems to have wandered away from its kin- dred heights, and to live in remote and unsocial seclusion. On the right dividing it from the Sabine chain is the narrow lateral valley of the Tiber; and further on the ho- rizon is walled up by the imposing range of the Sabine Hills, whose peaks, bold, pointed and irregular, have the true grandeur, and claim affinity with the great central chain of the Appenines.24 With the rise of the landscapist's art in the United States, such natu- ral splendors predictably attracted increasing numbers of American painters to the Torre dei Schiavi from the 1840s onward. Almost un- failingly these artists included in their views not only the distant ^y-viouii^ 10 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 24 Fall 1987 11 Edward Lear, The Tor di Schiavi on the Via Labicana, 1842. Oil on canvas, 9 1/4 X 17 1/2 in. Present whereabouts unknown 9 (opposite) Attributed to John Gadsby Chap- man, Excavations in the Campagna, 1837. Oil on canvas, 30 5/8 x 55 5/8 in. Paul Moro, Inc., New York 10 (opposite) Thomas Cole, Torre dei Schiavi, Campagna di Roma, 1842. Oil on wood, 14 3/4 x 24 in. Private Collection Campagna prospect but also the ru- ined circular mausoleum, a power- fully evocative object within the Campagnas expanse. The excavations at the Torre fig- ured in several views of the site. In an expansive canvas attributed to John Gadsby Chapman, workers busily retrieve fragments of statu- ary, urns, and even a human skull from the columbaria (fig. 9). Such recoveries from "the glory that was Rome" inevitably fired the imagina- tions of visitors from the New World and made a special magnet of the Torre and the entire Campagna. Chapman, a longtime resident of Rome, was so taken with the archaeological activity at the Torre dei Schiavi that he visited the site frequently and his enthusi- asm inspired his son, John Linton Chapman, to paint the ruin as well. In 1842 Thomas Cole discov- ered the Torre. His depiction of it (fig. 10) shows a less busy, more contemplative scene than Chapmans. Cole's view of the mau- soleum from its unfractured "back" side is unusual, presenting a less ruinous structure. The fabled golden sun of central Italy rises be- hind the tower and over the Sabine Hills, accentuating the unbroken oculus and suffusing the landscape with its glow. In both point of view and mood, Cole differs strikingly from the Chapmans and from Edward Lear, who also painted the Torre in the same year (fig. 11). The urbane Englishman depicted the more familiar broken facade, past which peasants amble toward the city in the distance, suggesting the monument's placement in com- munity and in a historical contin- uum, linking the ancient past to the colorful present. Despite the crowds of peasants, archaeologists, and painters that often attended the site, Cole populates his view with but a lone goatherd, seem- ingly lost in timeless contemplation of the romantic scene. Cole's lonely herdsman became a favorite motif for a number of Torre painters at mid century. He reappeared in 1849 in two draw- ings by Jasper Francis Cropsey (fig. 12), perhaps studies for an unlo- 25 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 12 Jasper Francis Cropsey, Torre dei Schiavi: The Roman Campagna, 1849. Pencil, broum wash and Chinese white on brown paper, 41/8x5 11/16 in. The Metropoli- tan Museum of Art, Charles and Anita Blatt Fund 13 (opposite) Sanford Robinson Gifford, Torre di Schiavi, Campagna di Roma, ca. 1864. Oil on canvas, 8 1/2 x 15 3/4 in. Henry Melville Fuller 14 (opposite) George Yewell, Torre dei Schiavi, 1860s. Oil on board, 51/2x8 3/4 in. University of Iowa Museum of Art, Iowa City, Gift of Oscar Coast cated painting of the scene that the artist exhibited in Buffalo in 1861,25 as well as in views by San- ford Gifford (fig. 13), Thomas Hotchkiss, George Yewell (fig. 14 ), and David Maitland Armstrong. The herdsman's thatched hut is neigh- bor to the monument in John Rollin Tiltons version of the Torre (fig. 15). During the middle de- cades of the century, many other Americans painted at the ruins, among them John F. Kensett, Christopher Cranch, William S. Haseltine, Elihu Vedder, Eugene Benson, Conrad Wise Chapman, and Thomas Hicks. The frequent appearance of these views at mid century indi- cates the monument s sudden popularity among American artists and their audiences—surprising in light of its relative neglect over most of the preceding millennium. One reviewer, for instance, singled out Tiltons painting of the ruins for special praise: "Among the smaller pictures in o i l . . . we are inclined to value most the Torre dei Schiavi, on the Campagna, which is distinctly drawn, and has infused into it an impressive sense of solemnity and lonely memo- ries."26 The Torre painters often admired each others efforts. For in- stance, his friends particularly val- ued Vedders small landscape com- positions for their "realism taken directly from nature and studied profoundly, [such a s ] . . . the Roman Campagna with Tor de Schiavi [s/c]." And Vedder reciprocated the praise, inscribing his painting of the scene (fig. 16) with the leg- 26 Fall 1987 15 John Rollin Tilton, Torre di Schiavi, n.d. Oil on canvas, 11 x 23 in. Present where- abouts unknown 16 Elihu Vedder, Ruins, Torre di Schiavi, ca. 1868. Oil on panel, 15 1/2 x 5 1/4 in. Munson-Williams-Proctor Institute, Utica, N. K, Gift of Robert Palmiter end: "A good subject—Hotchkiss used to go out there frequently... [and] made some good things at the Torre dei Schiavi."2"7 That a number of painters repeated the scene of "solemnity and lonely memories11 implies a special mean- ing for the subject, as well as a ready market for the Torre views. Hotchkiss's two canvases, painted in 1864 and 1865 (fig. 17), are among the most ambitious and accomplished of the group. In each he opted for a horizontal format, well suited to the expansive sweep of the Campagna landscape and used by nearly all the artists. (The broad vista compelled Haseltine, unique among his colleagues, to paint the view from, rather than of, the mausoleum, looking westward toward Rome and St. Peter s distant dome [fig. 18].) Hotchkiss s fre- quent visits and familiarity with the site yielded the most faithful re- cordings of archaeological detail. He carefully drew the interior niches, the curious notched bands on the buildings exterior, the frag- ments of ornately carved archi- traves and capitals, and the boy- and-dolphin motif of the mosaic pavement, which was also de- scribed by Nibby. (His eye for his- torical detail brought Hotchkiss financial as well as aesthetic re- wards, for as Vedder recorded, " 'twas here he found a niche in this Columbarium which had not been discovered a beautiful glass vase and sold it for a good sum of money which came in well in those days."28) A human skull and bones near the columbaria at the lower left serve as the works me- mento mori; in the second canvas this mood is completed by a herds- man, lost in reverie on this scene of ruined Roman glory. Vedder's view of the ruins (see fig. 16) differed markedly from all others. In lieu of the usual horizon- tal format, Vedder's small oil is em- phatically tall and narrow. Like other Campagna sketches he painted during the 1860s, his view employs the eccentric format of the Macchiaioli artists with whom he was in close association. The painting, which Vedder left unfin- ished, is more spontaneous, more sketchlike, than most of the Ameri- can productions. The elongated canvas eliminates most of the roll- ing landscape and distant hills and focuses closely upon the verdant ground and the broken mauso- leum, whose brickwork is warmed by the suns slanting rays. The circu- lar building occupies exclusive at- tention in the upper half of the composition and is set off below by a corner of newly excavated columbarium and broken pottery. These two focal points—the frac- tured building echoed in the pot shards—are visually and psycho- logically locked in perfect balance. Absent the herdsman in reverie, without the distant Campagna pros- pects bathed in warm Italian light, even lacking the archaeological de- tail that gave resonance to other in- terpretations, Vedder's small Torre view nevertheless provides one of the most telling and poignant evo- cations of past Roman glory. So popular was the Torre dei Schiavi that figure painters as well as landscapists turned to the monu- ment. In 1867-68 Conrad Wise Chapman painted a suite of The Four Seasons, a traditional allegori- cal subject that the American treated in the colorful costume of Italian peasants much favored by foreign artists in Italy. These models, bedecked in their regional finery, were the subject of many fig- ure studies, their ubiquity suggest- ing that for foreigners the peasant had come to symbolize the historic land. In Chapman's depiction of the harvest season, a gleaner in tra- ditional peasant dress of the cen- tral region stands before the Torre dei Schiavi (fig. 19). The symbolic authority of the peasant figure is 28 Fall 1987 17 Thomas Hotchkiss, Torre di Schiavi, 1865. Oil on cant os, 22 3 8 x 34 3/4 in. Na- tional Museum of American Art, Smithso- nian Institution, Museum Purchase augmented by its pairing with the Torre, which had become an equally potent symbol of Italy for Chapman and his compatriots. In the same year, Thomas Hicks composed his Italian Mother and Child (fig. 20). The association of allusive figures with Roman ruins had by then become a common- place in many artists' works. Daniel Huntington's Italy (fig. 21), for in- stance, posed the symbol of nation- hood between a Tuscan bell tower, which evoked the Catholic piety of modern Italians, and ancient ruins which harkened back to the glory that was Rome. Beyond the parapet in Hicks's painting, the remains of the Torre dei Schiavi are clearly evident—suggesting that the woman is no ordinary Italian mother but, indeed, Mother Italy. More than their scenic character is required to explain the phe- nomenal popularity of these par- ticular ruins at mid century. If the Torre dei Schiavi could appropri- ately accompany Mater Italia, if it could embody the fabled grandeur of legendary Rome, might it not have played other roles and prompted other reveries as well? Despite Bruno Schrader's warn- ing that the Torre dei Schiavi desig- nation had nothing to do with slav- ery, most commentators persisted in the notion that the monument was somehow—in a way never clearly specified—linked with such Roman practices and to slave insur- rections during the late Empire. The discovery of several colum- baria adjacent to the Torre, purport- edly containing inscriptions of "liberti," further fueled that roman- tic association.29 Such associations would, of course, have been highly topical in the mid nineteenth century when American artists' pilgrimages to Rome and the Campagna were at their peak. This tourism coincided with the cresting of abolitionist sen- timent in the United States and Brit- 29 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 18 William Stanley Haseltine, Torre degli Schiavi, Campagna Romana, 1856. Oil on canvas, 13 3/4 x 19 1/2 in. North Caro- lina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Gift of Helen Haseltine in memory ofW. R. Valentiner <19 20 Conrad Wise Chapman, The Four Seasons (Harvest), 1867-68. Oil on canvas, 18 x 24 1/4 in. Present whereabouts unknown Thomas Hicks, Italian Mother and Child, 1868. Oil on canvas, 363/4 x 29 1/2 in. North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Gift of John W. Bailey 21 (opposite) Daniel Huntington, Italy, 1843. Oil on canvas, 38 5/8 x 29 1/8 in. Na- tional Museum of American Art, Smithson- ian Institution. Museum Purchase ain and with America's seemingly inevitable slide toward civil war. It seems scarcely accidental that the "Tower of Slaves" enjoyed such fa- vor among American painters and that depictions of the once obscure ruin became most frequent in the troubled decade of the 1860s. Although Americans in Italy were safely removed from the ca- lamities of the Civil War at home, they were scarcely unaware or unaf- fected by the tragic events, and many of the artists believed strongly in the Union cause. Their liberal sympathies had extended to European struggles as well— including the Greeks' war of inde- pendence, the revolutionaries of 1848, and those involved in the movement for Italian unification. In that matrix of political and social issues, the huge popularity of an image such as Hiram Powers s Greek Slave becomes understand- able, adding another dimension to its aesthetic appeal. In 1848 in Flor- ence, where the expatriate Powers had carved his slave, he conceived the allegorical figure of America (fig. 22), a heroic symbol of Liberty and a prototype for Bartholdfs fa- mous statue in New York Harbor. Journalists on occasion resorted to ancient precedent to describe the bloody struggle between the Union forces and the Confederacy. In 1861, for instance, the American Fall 1987 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 22 Hiram Powers, America, 1848-50. Plaster, 89 3/16 x 35 3/16 x 16 7/8 in. National Museum of American Art, Smithsonian In- stitution, Museum purchase in memory of Ralph Cross Johnson "CAESAR IMPERATOR!" THE AMERICAN GLADIATORS. 23 "Caesar Imperator!" or, The American Glad- iators, 1861. Engraving in Punch, or the London Charivari, 18 May 1861, p. 203 war was depicted by Punch car- toonists in Roman terms, as "Caesar Imperator f or, The Ameri- can Gladiators (fig. 23), reflecting the conjunction of two of the peri- od's major preoccupations, previ- ously distinct—Italomania and na- tional preservation. Given this predilection for alle- gory and historicism in Europe and America, the sudden popularity of the "Tower of Slaves" owes as much to metaphor as to monu- ment. American painters and pa- trons, untroubled by the lack of cor- roborating facts, readily tied the Torre dei Schiavi to legendary slave battles of an earlier empire. For them the monument on the Campagna became an architectural surrogate for Liberty, symbolic of their optimistic faith in the Ameri- can cause. Notes 1 John Gait, The Life, Studies, and Works of Benjamin West (London: Cadell and Davies, 1820), p. 84. 2 Quoted in Otto Wittmann, "The Italian Experience (American Artists in Italy 1830-1875 )," American Quarterly, Spring 1952, p. 5. 3 Quoted in Otto Wittmann, "The Attrac- tion of Italy for American Painters," An- tiques 85, no. 5 (May 1964): 553. 4 Worthington Whittredge, "Autobiogra- phy," Brooklyn Museum Journal, 1942, p. 350. 5 Quoted in Wittmann, "The Italian Expe- rience," p. 12. 6 Peale, Notes on Italy (Philadelphia: 1831), p. 105; Vedder quoted in Marga- ret R. Scherer, Mangels of Ancient Rome (New York: Phaidon, 1955), fig. 154; "ro- mance of ruins" quotation from Etienne- Jean Delecluze, Two Lovers in Rome, Being Extracts from the Journal and Letters of Etienne-Jean Delecluze, ed. Louis Desternes and trans. Gerard Hopkins (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, 1958), p. 92. 7 Quoted in Wendy M. Watson, Images of Italy: Photography in the Nineteenth Century (South Hadlev, Mass.: Mount Holvoke College Museum of An, 1980), p. 48. 8 Abbe Dupaty, Travels through Italy... in the Year 1785 (London, 1788), p. 153. 9 Taine, Italy: Florence and Venice, trans. J. Durand (New York: Ley, Oldt & Holt, 1869), pp. 1 - 2 ; 1820 quote in Charlotte A. Eaton, Rome in the Nineteenth Cen- tury, vol. 1 (1820; reprint London: Henry G. Bohn, I860), p. 13. 10 "Fearsome loneliness" in ibid., p. 64; Story, Roha di Roma (London: Chap- man & Hall, 1875), p. 3 1 1 . 1 1 Taylor, Views Afoot (New York: Putnam, 1859), p. 405; Dickens, Pictures from Italy, and American Notes (London: Chapman & Hall, 1862), p. 143; quota- tion by American tourist in Henry P. Leland, Americans in Rome (New York: Charles T. Evans, 1863), p. 198. 1 2 Brooks, The Dream of Arcadia-. Ameri- can Writers and Artists in Italy, 1760- 1915 (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1958), p. 90. 1 3 George Stillman Hillard, Six Months in Italy ( Boston: Ticknor & Fields, 1856), p. 315. 14 Quoted in Robert Burn, Rome and the Campagna: An Historical and Topo- graphical Description (Cambridge and London: 1871), p. 418. 1 5 N ibby, Analisi Storico—Topografico— Antiquaria della Carta deDintorno di Roma, vol. 3 (Rome, 1857), p. 7 1 1 ; Hare, Walks in Rome (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., 1923), p. 427. 16 The identification of San Andrea was first proposed by Nibby, p. 712. See also Bruno Schrader, Die Romische Campagna (Leipzig: E. A. Seeman, 1910), p. 62. 1 7 Baedeker, Italy: Handbook for Travel- lers. Part 2: Central Italy and Rome (London: Williams & Norgate, 1867), p. 3 1 2 . 18 Schrader, p. 62. 32 Fall 1987 19 Giovanni Battista Piranesi, Le antichita romane (Rome: Stamperia di Angelo Rotilja, 1756), e.g., vol. 2, plates 29, 59, 60. 20 Wey, Rome (New York: D. Appleton & Co., 1875), p. 269. 21 Crane, An Artist's Reminiscences (New York: Macmillan, 1907), p. 137. 22 Wey, p. 269. 23 Hillard, p. 316. 24 Ibid., p. 315. 25 The Cropsey painting and a number of other works referred to here are in- cluded in the National Museum of American Art's Index to American Art Exhibition Catalogues from the Begin- ning through the 1876 Centennial Year, compiled by the Smithsonian In- stitution's National Museum of Ameri- can Art (Boston: G. K. Hall, 1986). 26 "Mr. Tilton's Pictures," Atlantic Monthly 47, no. 280 (February 1881): 291. 27 Quotation on realism from American Academy of Arts and Letters, Exhibition of the Works of Elihu Vedder (New York, 1937), p. 20; Vedder quoted in Gwendolyn Owens and John Peters- Campbell, Golden Day, Silver Night: Per- ceptions of Nature in American Art, 1850-1910 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Herbert F. Johnson Museum of An, 1983), p. 102. 28 Ibid. 29 For Schrader's warning, see n. 16; late editions of Murray's Handbook refer to such a discovery in the spring of 1874; others were possibly found earlier. Nei- ther the accuracy nor the significance of the inscriptions can be determined. See A Handbook of Rome and the Campagna (London: John Murray, 1899), p. 398. 20 Smithsonian Studies in American Art 
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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X https://www.cambridge.org/core BUILDING CULTURE Studies in the Intellectual History of Industrializing America, 1867–1910 Richard F. Teichgraeber III This in-depth examination of the industrial era highlights the multiplicity of attitudes and interests that were on display in America’s first great effort to build national cultural institutions. Teichgraeber explores two of the key developments: the effort to secure Ralph Waldo Emerson a central place in American culture at large, and the growth and consolidation of the American univer- sity system. Sixty-six Years of Publishing Excellence 208 pp., 22 illus., cloth, $44.95 800-768-2500 www.uscpress.com terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 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Articles appearing in this journal are abstracted and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life. This journal issue has been printed on FSC-certified paper and cover board. FSC is an independent, non-governmental, not-for-profit organization established to promote the responsible management of the world’s forests. Please see www.fsc.org for information. © Cambridge University Press 2010 ISSN 1479-2443 modern intellectual history Editors Charles Capper, Boston University, USA Email capper@bu.edu Anthony J. La Vopa, North Carolina State University, Raleigh, USA Email Anthony_LaVopa@ncsu.edu Samuel Moyn, Columbia University, USA Email s.moyn@columbia.edu Nicholas Phillipson, Edinburgh University, UK Email Nicholas.Phillipson@ed.ac.uk Assistant Editor Andrew J. Ballou, Boston University, USA Email mih@bu.edu 14792443_7-3.qxd:1479–2443_7-3 9/23/10 1:28 PM Page 2 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X https://www.cambridge.org/core v o l . 7 | n o . 3 | n o v e m b e r 2 0 10 Articles 495–522 Völkerpsychologie and the Appropriation of “Spirit” in Meiji Japan RICHARD REITAN 523–552 From the Frontier to German South-West Africa: German Colonialism, Indians, and American Westward Expansion JENS-UWE GUETTEL 553–579 Repossessing the Cozzens–Macdonald Imbroglio: Middlebrow Authorship, Critical Authority, and Autonomous Readers in Postwar America JOAN SHELLEY RUBIN 581–609 Humanist Pretensions: Catholics, Communists, and Sartre’s Struggle for Existentialism in Postwar France EDWARD BARING Essay 611–627 Geography as the Eye of Enlightenment Historiography ROBERT J. MAYHEW Review Essays 629–642 Matters of Fact MATTHEW L. JONES 643–652 Mind, Body, and Soul: Ideas in Context ALAN CHARLES KORS 653–666 The Crisis of Secularism in India JAVED MAJEED 667–678 The Proximity of the Past: Eugenics in American Culture ROBERT W. RYDELL vo l . 7 | n o. 3 | n ove m b e r 2 0 1 0 | i s s n 1 4 7 9 – 2 4 4 3 M o d ern In tellectu al H isto ry Modern Intellectual History modern intellectual history MHI Cambridge Journals Online For further information about this journal please go to the journal website at: journals.cambridge.org/mih 14792443_7-3.qxd:1479–2443_7-3 9/23/10 1:28 PM Page 1 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S147924431000020X https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_gqizdymwxncrpcgc3uvkmbdmbi	----	Microsoft Word - A short paragraph from the laboratory.docx   1   A short paragraph from the laboratory By Patrik Eriksson Language editing Lynn Preston-Odengård I found myself in a peculiar place where I questioned the very foundations of my belief in the art of film. This was not an ideal situation, especially since I had started working in a new way. I had felt that the essay film form was an oasis of possibilities, and I wanted to see how it related to my idea of “film as thinking”, which is also the title of my doctoral project in artistic research. The critical spirit of essayism had got me in its hold before I had come very far, or was this merely a phase common to any kind of creative process, or maybe just the consequence of having time to doubt? I don't know really, but I think I came out on the other side – at least for a moment anyway.1 In Eric M. Nilsson's essay film I skuggan2 from 2011, the following statement is voiced a couple of times: “If you don't know where you're going, you’ll end up somewhere else.” This statement is sometimes alleged to be a quote from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland; this allegation is, however, incorrect. Nevertheless, this statement still remains thought-provoking and I find it hard to decide whether I perceive it as positive or negative. This depends on how I interpret the first phrase in this sentence: “if you don't know where you're going”. If I interpret this phrase as: I can have a certain goal in mind without knowing how I’m going to get there, and doubts can pop up in my mind during the course of my journey as to whether I'm on the right track or not. And then I probably will indeed end up “somewhere else”. This “somewhere else” can, in turn, prove to be a better or a worse place than the intended goal, that is to say, ending up somewhere else can, if I'm lucky, be to my advantage or, if unlucky, be to my disadvantage. I can also lack a specific goal and therefore not know where I want to end up; and in a case like this I couldn’t be on the wrong track, since no track can be said to be the right one. Likewise, I couldn’t end up “somewhere else” since I hadn’t intended ending up somewhere specific from the start. I then have to consider and make up my mind whether the outcome is positive or negative, and do so on the basis of other grounds than a comparison between aim and result. The statement used in Nilsson’s film is ambiguous, or should I say,   2   has a number of different meanings, and this both fascinates and irritates me. I found another turn of phrase with a similar message but of a more affirmative nature, quoted by Per Wästberg in his memoirs. It was the African proverb: If you don't know where to journey, every road can take you there. Maybe this is a suitable motto for my own work, both with regard to filmmaking and pursuing artistic research. Detours and wrong tracks are not detours and wrong tracks but are parts along the way that lead us the right way; they are indeed necessary in order for us to find the right way. It's interesting to see how remote paths, in a seemingly accidental way, can lead us back, and also join, what we now discover as appearing to be the main track – making it a truly enjoyable expedition. This is how one discovers new things, and new ideas and new ways of thinking, or how one gets to know filmmakers and authors that one didn’t know anything about before. Whilst working on my film essay, I needed to find my way on the subject of melancholy, which is as equally a classic subject for interpretative inquiry as a timeless and ever-present human feeling. I came across a book with the interesting title Förtvivlans filosofi3 by Tobias Dahlkvist, a scholar in intellectual history at Stockholm University. This book is about the Italian nineteenth century poet and philosopher Giacomo Leopardi, who was noted for his pessimism. (The connection between a pessimistic outlook and melancholy can’t be avoided.) To be precise, the book is about how Leopardi's work was received in Sweden. Vilhelm Ekelund, who, during the years around 1910, found himself in a transitional phase, that is, he was going from writing poetry to writing essays, was among those who wrote about Leopardi, and also translated his works. I had always thought that Ekelund only wrote poetry, and I think he is still regarded as a poet by the majority of Swedes. This is rather strange since he only devoted himself to poetry during the first six years of his literary career. During the remaining forty-two years he wrote prose in the form of essays and aphorisms – a body of work that some have aptly called thought-books. When Ekelund writes about Leopardi, he stands out as being an ambivalent melancholic, reflecting and reasoning on a hyper- melancholic. One reason why Ekelund abandoned poetry was that he wanted to free himself, and resign, from destructive, bittersweet melancholy, which, for him, had become the life- giving air of poetry. My eyes were opened to Ekelund’s works and I quickly got hold of his complete works.   3   In Concordia Animi from 1942, one of the last books to be published by Ekelund, I found the following sentence: “Där forska är verka, verka är forska, där är människolifvets fullhet.”4 There is no English translation of this book. It's a literary text and extremely difficult to translate. The word “forska” could mean “to research”, but also and more likely in this case: “to search into” or “to inquire into”, or “to investigate”, or even “to explore”. And the word “verka” is even more difficult; it could be translated “to work”, which would be partly correct but would not give the right associations. It has more to do with “verk” in the meaning of making an “oeuvre” or a “body of work”. A rough translation could maybe be: Where to explore is to act, or even enact a work, and to act, or to enact a work, is to explore, there is the “fullness of human life”; the last two words can at least be translated without any great difficulty. Anyway, even in Swedish, the sentence made me reflect on what Ekelund really meant with these words. Approximately 20 years earlier he had written: “Essayism. Min essay har jag ännu icke funnit. […] ’Scholar’, – ’essayist’ – såsom i en särskild betydelsefullhet detta begrepp en tid försväfvade mig. Mannen som söker att se vägen.”5 My attempt at a translation of this quote is as follows: “Essayism. I still haven't found my essay. […] ‘Scholar’, ‘essayist’ – this concept – as it were of particular meaningfulness, for some time seemed to be for me – for the man who’s seeking to see the way.” Ekelund had found the English word and concept ‘scholar’ in the writings of the American essayist and poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, above all in Emerson’s essay The American Scholar from 1837. Here Emerson describes in detail the three major aspects that influence his “American scholar”: Nature, the mind of the past (something you assimilate best through books), and Action (that is, being a “man of action”). Nature was of great importance to Ekelund, and to assimilate “the mind of the past” was for him a question of gaining knowledge and perspective, of acquiring an intimate knowledge of the finest art and thought in history, combined with the task of conveying this knowledge to others. In one of his diaries Ekelund writes (and I translate): “At the thought of Emerson, these lines of Tegnér come to mind: ‘On the heights of humanity he stepped, and, as proud as a king in his kingdom, looked far, far out into the world’. These lines could be used as an epigram to convey the concept of ‘scholar’ in the Emersonian sense.”6 Ekelund’s quote referring to Tegnér makes me think of the music video for the song Enjoy the silence by Depeche Mode produced by Anton Corbijn. It depicts the singer in a king’s cape with a crown on his head walking up a mountain peak with a sun lounger chair to sit down in in order to see the view and enjoy the silence...   4   The idea of action being a factor that influences a scholar may seem a little odd; I mean, what can be done at all without some form of action? Ekelund, who was inspired by Nietzsche, understood the idea of action as the idea of a man of action with a will to power. But what kind of power is Ekelund referring to here? According to Kjell Espmark, who has analysed Ekelund’s concept of the scholar in one of his essays, it is the power of writing, the power of the word, and also something that can make others strong. It is the will to strengthen others with one’s truth. It is a combination of one’s own ambition and unselfishness, or using Ekelund’s words (in my translation): “Writing must be an action – a living, persuasive and suggestive action. The kind of philosophy that isolates you cannot be the right one. If truth makes you strong, then its power lies in you being able to make others strong.”7 It struck me that I finally not only fully understood, but also somehow bodily perceived, the potential of practical philosophy, thanks to Ekelund. The thinking of Vilhelm Ekelund was of the practical, therapeutical philosophical kind, and I think the following passage illustrates this in an explicit way; I translate the Swedish original in the following way: “What should I do to live? Seek everything that makes it easy to l e t live. Truth, objectivity: through loving your terms for truth, for height, for freedom, for love.”8 I understood why I had intuitively sought back in time, to nineteenth century philosophers, to the Romantic era, to the French Moralists, well, ending up in the company of Stoics and Skeptics. For me, it was all about life, that is, how life is to be lived, or should be lived, or rather how it could be lived. Wasn't Albert Camus right when, in The Myth of Sisyphus, he asserted that man’s determining whether life is worth living or not is the answer to the most fundamental question of philosophy, and that all the rest is just a pastime? (Or when Alain Badiou in his Second Manifesto for Philosophy claims philosophy’s ultimate question to be: what is a life worthy the name?). I realised that for me this complex of thought was also the fundamental meaning of film. When I asked myself what it was about the essay film that appealed to me, I couldn't answer the question in explicit terms. However, I thought that essay film was a form that could give expression to this meaning in a particular way – by seeking and creating meaning through nearness to another ‘I’. I saw it as an encounter between images and words, where thoughts and emotions met through the directness of a temperament – enabling an open coming into being of a relationship between the inner and the outer.                                                                                                                 1  This text was originally a talk given at Lilla Filmfestivalen in Båstad, Sweden, 2012.   5                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             2  The title of the Swedish film “I Skuggan” is ambiguous, that is, the Swedish word ‘skuggan’ can mean both “shade” and “shadow”. I skuggan was shown the previous year, 2011, at Lilla filmfestivalen, in Båstad, Sweden. 3  Ellerströms förlag, Lund, 2010. The book is published in Swedish only; Enlish translation of title: The Philosophy of Despair. 4  From Concordia animi, Helsingborg, 1942, p. 98. 5  From Ur en scholaris' verkstad, Lund 1974, p. 57. The book is published in Swedish only; English translation of title: From a Scholar’s Workshop 6 A quote from the article “Vilhelm Ekelund och Emersons ‘Scholar’” by Kjell Espmark, published in Swedish only, from Svensk Litteraturtidskrift, vol. 30, 1967, p. 165: ”Vid tanken på Emerson ha för ögonen dessa rader af Tegnér: ’På mänsklighetens höjder steg han och såg långt ut i världen, så stolt som en kung kring sitt rike’. Dessa rader äro ett godt epigram på begreppet scholar i Emersonsk mening.” 7  Ibid., p. 167: ”Skrifva måste vara en handling – lefvande, viljebevekande, viljesuggererande. Den filosofi som isolerar dig kan icke vara den rätta. Gör sanning dig stark, så är dess makt däri att du kan göra andra starka.” 8  Ur en scholaris’ verkstad, p. 56: ”Hvad skall jag göra för att lefva? Söka allt som gör det lätt att l å t a lefva. Sanning, objektivitet: genom att älska dina villkor för sanning, för höjd, för frihet, för kärlek.” 
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work_gtv4qywxljczfeocvhyb37mf7y	----	Henry David Thoreau’s Walden: Immigration, Ecocriticism, and Otherness Silva, Reinaldo Francisco. “Henry David Thoreau’s Walden: Immigration, Ecocriticism, and Otherness”. Anglo Saxonica, No. 17, issue 1, art. 13, 2020, pp. 1–12. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/as.7 RESEARCH Henry David Thoreau’s Walden: Immigration, Ecocriticism, and Otherness Reinaldo Francisco Silva Universidade de Aveiro, Centro de Línguas, Literaturas e Culturas, Departamento de Línguas e Culturas, Universidade de Aveiro e Centro de Estudos Anglísticos, Faculdade de Letras, Universidade de Lisboa, PT reinaldosilva@ua.pt This essay aims at revisiting Henry David Thoreau’s Walden (1854), especially the episode in chapter X, “Baker Farm,” where Thoreau introduces the reader to an Irish immigrant, John Field. A hard-working farmer, Field thinks he is moving his way up the American social ladder and, presumably, dream, when, in fact, Thoreau tells us he is toiling just to feed unnecessary body needs. Whereas Field views his coming to America as a blessing for he could purchase these commodities, Thoreau notes that “the only true America is that country where you are at lib- erty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these.” This episode will assist me in my discussion of Thoreau’s environmental concerns by way of focusing on Otherness – in this case, an Irishman, a victim of the Hungry Forties. I will attempt to show Thoreau as a man complicit with racial stereotyping considering that in this passage he viewed the Irish as slovenly, dirty, imbecile, and good-for-nothing. Throughout the nineteenth- century, such racial stereotyping would be extended to other ethnic minorities arriving at the turn-of-the-century and a subject of inquiry by ethnologists and sociologists. The Irish, who had to fight for their whiteness, were not alone in this battle considering that Southern Euro- peans – with the Portuguese, in particular – were said to possess “some negro blood,” as Donald Taft has argued in Two Portuguese Communities in New England (1923). This rhetoric would be later on fine-tuned during the Eugenics movement in the 1920s and culminating in the Holocaust during World War II. My contention in this essay is that Thoreau was complicit with America’s paranoia about the boundaries of whiteness. Keywords: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden; Henry David Thoreau and Immigration; Henry David Thoreau and Ecocriticism; Henry David Thoreau and Otherness O presente ensaio propõe-se revisitar a obra de Henry David Thoreau, Walden, publicada em 1854, sobretudo o episódio no capítulo X, “Baker Farm,” onde Thoreau nos apresenta um emi- grante irlandês, John Field. Um trabalhador incansável, Field julga estar a subir a pulso na vida na sociedade norte-americana e, presumivelmente, a concretizar o sonho americano, quando, de facto, Thoreau diz-nos que ele está simplesmente a labutar para satisfazer necessidades corpo- rais desnecessárias. Enquanto Field entende que a sua vinda para a América foi uma bênção, na medida em que agora podia adquirir estes géneros, Thoreau comenta que “a verdadeira América é unicamente aquele país onde se tem liberdade para que se possa seguir o estilo de vida que nos permita passar sem eles.” Este episódio proporciona uma análise das preocupações ambientalistas de Thoreau, por via das suas perceções do Outro, nomeadamente a de um irlandês, vitima da fome no seu país (década de 1840). Tentaremos demonstrar como Thoreau foi conivente com a utilização dos estereótipos racistas na medida em que neste trecho descreve os irlandeses como sendo pouco asseados, sujos, imbecis e sem grande iniciativa. Ao longo do século XIX, estes estereótipos raciais também seriam aplicados a outras minorias étnicas, que chegavam á América em finais do século, assim como um tema de pesquisa para etnólogos e sociólogos. Esta luta em serem trata- dos como brancos não se aplicou somente aos irlandeses na medida em que se dizia que os povos https://doi.org/10.5334/as.7 mailto:reinaldosilva@ua.pt Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 2 of 12 da Europa do Sul – nomeadamente os portugueses – possuíam “algum sangue negro,” tal como afirmara Donald Taft na sua obra, Two Portuguese Communities in New England (1923). Mais tarde, esta retórica tornar-se-ia mais acutilante durante a vigência do movimento da Eugenia durante a década de 1920 e culminando, deste modo, no Holocausto durante a Segunda Guerra Mundial. O argumento principal neste ensaio é que Thoreau se revelou como cúmplice da paranoia norte-americana relativamente as fronteiras do que se convencionou ser-se de raça branca. Palavras-Chave: Henry David Thoreau e Walden; Henry David Thoreau e a emigração; Henry David Thoreau e a ecocrítica; Henry David Thoreau e o Outro This essay aims at revisiting Henry David Thoreau’s Walden (1854), especially the episode in chapter X, “Baker Farm,” where Thoreau introduces the reader to an Irish immigrant, John Field. This episode will assist me in my discussion of Thoreau’s environmental concerns by way of focusing on Otherness and to show Thoreau as a man complicit with racial stereotyping. Thoreau’s concern for nature and environmental issues, too, will assist me in ascertaining how these mat- ters evolved, were modified by, adjusted to and updated by immigrants in North America when growing a garden or farming. Issues ranging from how did older canonical texts written by mainstream American writers adequately represent the Portuguese immigrants in their interaction with nature and American soil while farming to how such matters are dealt with in contemporary Portuguese-American fiction and poetry will be explored in this piece. From Thoreau’s husbandry in an unpolluted American landscape, how did the Portuguese deal with nature, farming, and gardening and how are they represented in the available writings? By observing Otherness and how certain ethnic groups, especially the Portuguese, interacted with nature, often replicating the farming landscapes they had grown up with in the Old World, such practices allowed for bodily and spiritual sustenance while maintaining their Portuguese identity. As with Thoreau, who viewed nature as a retreat into the primitive, for these immigrants nature – via gardening and farming – was a means to retreat from the alienating conditions imposed by the factory, commercial fishing, the whaling or dairy industries or intensive farming Portuguese immigrants engaged in in their areas of settlement in the United States. For these Portuguese immigrants caught in this industrial, back-breaking, and alienating web, retrieving their dignity and ancestral culture via the ethnic garden or farming was their way of becom- ing human once again. From Patronizing Otherness to a Rhetoric of Eugenics In chapter ten, Thoreau introduces the reader to an Irish immigrant, John Field. A hard-working farmer, Field thinks he is moving his way up the American social ladder and, presumably, dream, when, in fact, Tho- reau tells us he is toiling just to feed unnecessary body needs. Field tells Thoreau that his coming to America had been “a gain…that here you could get tea, and coffee, and meat every day” (Thoreau 1960, 141). For Field, immigrating to America was a blessing for it enabled him to purchase these commodities. Thoreau wraps this episode up noting that “the only true America is that country where you are at liberty to pursue such a mode of life as may enable you to do without these, and where the state does not endeavor to compel you to sustain the slavery and war and other superfluous expenses which directly or indirectly result from the use of such things” (Thoreau 1960, 141). In Thoreau’s view, this man toiled like a slave to satisfy his corporeal needs and, in the process, was paying taxes on these products to support slavery and America’s war machine – institutions Thoreau disagreed with. Moreover, this episode stresses Thoreau’s impressions of this Irish man and his family as shiftless, without a purpose in life, and imbecile. His youngest son is referred to as a “poor starveling brat” (Thoreau 1960, 140) and the house where Field lived with his family was unkempt and needing repair: There we sat together under that part of the roof which leaked the least, while it showered and thundered without. I had sat there many times of old before the ship was built that floated this family to America. An honest, hard-working, but shiftless man plainly was John Field; and his wife, she too was brave to cook so many successive dinners in the recesses of that lofty stove; with round greasy face and bare breast, still thinking to improve her condition one day; with the never absent mop in one hand, and yet no effects of it visible anywhere. The chickens, which had also taken shelter here from the rain, stalked about the room like members of the family, too humanized methought to roast well. (italics added; Thoreau 1960, 140) Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Art. 13, page 3 of 12 Field tells Thoreau about “how hard he worked ‘bogging’ for a neighboring farmer, turning up a meadow with a spade or bog hoe at the rate of ten dollars an acre and the use of the land with manure for one year, and his little broad-faced son worked cheerfully at his father’s side the while, not knowing how poor a bar- gain the latter had made” (Thoreau 1960, 141). Thoreau, in turn, teaches him how he can also live in a “light, clean house, which hardly cost more than the annual rent of such a ruin as his commonly amounts to; and how, if he chose, he might in a month or two build himself a palace of his own; that I did not use tea, nor cof- fee, nor butter, nor milk, nor fresh meat, and so did not have to work to get them” (Thoreau 1960, 141). The italicized passages reflect Thoreau’s impressions of this man and his family as imbecile, untidy, and shiftless, stereotypes which, as we will see ahead, were applied to the Irish as a group. As we all know, Walden reflects Thoreau’s attempt to teach us how to liberate ourselves from falling prey to capitalism by simplifying our lives, but his views of the Field family as simpletons, however, undermines this goal while highlighting his bias towards this Irish family and, presumably, the Irish as a whole. This stereotype would later be applied to individuals composing another pattern of immigration to the United States, mostly Southern Europeans and Turks, especially during the Progressive era of the 1920s and in the heyday of the Eugenics movement. This boiled down to the enactment of immigration quotas in the Immigration Acts of 1917–1924, which barred access to the US for these peoples. For the purpose of this essay, the Portuguese, after the Irish, as we shall see, were a case in point. Like hundreds of thousands – or even millions – of other destitute Irish farmers, Field may have been one of those who was affected by the “consequences of the emergence of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland on January 1, 1801,” which widened “the breach between Catholics and Protestants.” The negative economic consequences of this union “were exacerbated by the disastrous famine of 1846–51, and over 2,000,000 people emigrated” (Encyclopaedia Britannica, Vol. 6, 380). This occurred when “the potato, the staple food of rural Ireland, rotted in the ground through the onset of blight in the mid-1840s” and “thousands died of starvation and fever in the Great Famine that ensued, and thousands more fled abroad” (Encyclopaedia Britannica, Vol. 21, 965). On American soil, they were once again victimized and stigmatized by a ruling WASP mainstream as they had previously experienced by the Anglo colonizer back home: Irish immigrants, however, fared poorly; too poor to buy land, lacking in skills, disorganized mem- bers of a faith considered alien and even dangerous by many native Americans, the Irish suffered various forms of ostracism and discrimination in the cities, where they tended to congregate. They provided the menial and unskilled labour needed by the expanding economy. Their low wages forced them to live in tightly packed slums, whose chief features were filth, disease, rowdyism, prostitution, drunkenness, crime, a high mortality rate, and the absence of even rudimentary toilet facilities. Adding to the woes of the first generation of Irish immigrants was the tendency of many disgruntled natives to treat the newcomers as scapegoats who allegedly threatened the future of American life and religion. In the North, only free blacks were treated worse. Most Northern blacks possessed theoretical freedom and little else. Confined to menial occupations for the most part, they fought a losing battle against the inroads of Irish competition in northeastern cities. The strug- gle between the two groups erupted spasmodically into ugly street riots.” (Encyclopaedia Britannica, Vol. 29, 223) This grouping together of both ethnic groups, suggests Howard Zinn, had already started when these immi- grants were fleeing from Ireland and were packed into old sailing ships. “The stories of these ships differ only in detail from the accounts of the ships that earlier brought black slaves” and later on Germans, Italian, Russian immigrants (221). Or even the Portuguese, as José Rodrigues Miguéis narrates in his short story, “Gente da terceira classe.” Thoreau, however, had not been the only American intellectual to apply this alleged intellectual and racial inferiority to the Irish. Anna Engle has shown that, as a whole, several Nineteenth-century American literary writers also did their part to perpetuate the idea that Irish- Americans were ethnically inferior. Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Susan Warner, Maria Cummins, Reuben Weiser, Elizabeth Stuart Phelps, and Horatio Alger number among American mid-century authors who derided Irish immigrant workers as slovenly, dirty, and good-for-nothing. Unflattering images of Irish-Americans appear not only in various gen- res, from Weiser’s captivity narrative, Regina, the German Captive…to Thoreau’s treatise Walden” (152–153). Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 4 of 12 Recent scholarship on ethnicity, class, and labor conditions has shown how, from the start, the Irish had to work their way up the American economic ladder and fight for their “whiteness” considering that they were equated with enslaved blacks. Noel Ignatiev is clearly a case in point. In his book, How the Irish Became White, Ignatiev attempts to explain why the Irish were treated as blacks in the United States, why they often interacted with each other, but needed to be treated as or become whites: To Irish laborers, to become white meant at first that they could sell themselves piecemeal instead of being sold for life, and later that they could compete for jobs in all spheres instead of being confined to certain work; to Irish entrepreneurs, it meant that they could function outside of a segregated market. To both of these groups it meant that they were citizens of a democratic repub- lic, with the right to elect and be elected, to be tried by a jury of their peers, to live wherever they could afford, and to spend, without racially imposed restrictions, whatever money they managed to acquire. In becoming white the Irish ceased to be Green” (Ignatiev 2–3). The Irish, notes Justin D. Edwards, were stereotyped as racially inferior due to prevailing nineteenth-century racial theories such as those put forth by the racial scientist Nathaniel S. Schaler, who argued that “American immigration policies should privilege the ‘Teutonic branch of the Aryan race’ because its genetic constitu- tion was better acclimatized to the North American environment.” Irishmen, he stated, “lay outside of this ‘Teutonic branch’ and therefore the Celt’s physical constitution was not given to ‘industrious’ or hard work; because of this, he argued, Irishmen were too ‘lazy’, ‘immoral’, and ‘shiftless’ to warrant access to American citizenship” (66). To finalize this discussion of the Field family and, by extension, other Irish farmers in the United States, Matt Wray argues that these negative stereotypes regarding the so-called white trash, namely the Irish, was prompted by their livelihood and the fact they were composed of “large families” and that they often lived in “unsanitary and crowded conditions of living, small and incommodious dwellings” but “beneath the surface we find on one hand, loose disjointed living, with attendant lack of intelligence, absence of ambition, dearth of ideals of every sort” (81). This was what Donald Taft was also saying in 1923 about the Portuguese from the Azores, especially the immigrants from the island of São Miguel. This mindset, which Thoreau applied to the Field family, was gaining wider popularity throughout the nineteenth-century and culminating, in a full-blown manner, during the Progressive era. The Portuguese communities in New England, for example, were repulsed by the study, Two Portuguese Communities in New England (1923), written by the criminologist and sociologist of the University of Illinois, Donald R. Taft. The strong reaction by the Portuguese to this study is intriguing for a number of reasons. First, it suggests that the Portuguese in New England were mindful of what the dominant culture was saying or writing about them. And, second, because they had the courage to get together as a group to demonstrate and use the press to express their grievances. Taft’s study supports the exclusionary rhetoric of Progressive politics of the 1920s, which culminated in the immigration acts of 1917–1924 that all but closed America’s doors to Southern Europeans. Moreover, it voices America’s paranoia about the boundaries of whiteness. More spe- cifically, Taft taps from the rhetoric of eugenics, which was deeply ingrained in Anglo-American thought. In addition, Taft’s application of eugenics discourses to the Portuguese supported Progressive politics by formulating an intellectual, scientific basis for this rhetoric of exclusion. Briefly, the first chapter in Taft’s study proposes to analyze the high infant mortality rate of the Portuguese children in the urban community of Fall River, Massachusetts, and in the rural community of Portsmouth, Rhode Island – places where thousands of Portuguese immigrants settled in the nineteenth-century. While the former ethnic enclave included immigrants mostly from the island of São Miguel, the latter was com- posed of immigrants from Faial, who were mostly of Flemish extraction. While offering explanations for the high infant mortality rates in both communities in chapters three and five, Taft evinces a particular bias towards the Fall River community. In his view, the high infant mortality rate there was due to the inability of the Portuguese mothers to communicate in English; their illiteracy and ignorance (chapters three and five); and their darker complexion and alleged African blood (chapters two and seven). In a country such as the United States where the one-drop rule disqualified immediate access to white privileges, allegations of these immigrants as blacks are worth considering in the light of racial discourse in America. Possibly one of the most powerful rhetorical strategies employed by eugenicists in the early twentieth- century was to portray prospective immigrants hailing from Southern European countries as parasitic carriers of tainted germ plasm that threatened the purity of native Americans. It was believed that this contamination would weaken the fitness of Americans of Anglo stock. Like the Irish before them, these Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Art. 13, page 5 of 12 Southern Europeans had to earn their whiteness and the Portuguese were no exception since the image of the “black Portygee” was widely present in a few narratives featuring the Portuguese, an issue I have focused on in Representations of the Portuguese in American Literature. This new wave of immigrants, notes Marouf A. Hasian, Jr., were said to be “permanent parasites on the American body politic, forever tainted by their blood and incapable of having their condition ameliorated” (Hasian 93). Much in the same way Thoreau had underscored the Field family’s imbecility, Taft, a few decades later, views the Fall River Portuguese as superstitious and ignorant. “We may say,” he argues, “that Portuguese children die because of ignorance; Portuguese adults are exploited because of ignorance; their women continue their lives of toil and endless child-bearing because of their ignorance; their children are backward in school through ignorance; and very many of the other tragedies of their lives are the product of ignorance” (339). Although this discussion on Thoreau’s attitudes towards ethnicity and Otherness in Walden is insufficient to build a solid case regarding his patronizing ways towards the Irish, we often wish he had a different view on this issue considering his engagement in the Abolitionist cause, his criticism of capitalism, his positive depiction of Native-Americans in some of his writings, and the liberating effect that emanates from Walden. His views, nonetheless, were those of a man who was racially accommodated to the WASP mainstream, its prejudices, and values – even if he felt the need to criticize it and step aside from it during his Walden Pond phase. As with the Portuguese immigrants later on, most of whom were illiterate, their Catholicism was an additional problem as had also been the case with the Irish in the 1840s and afterwards. True, Thoreau does not refer directly to the religious beliefs of the Irish or even their illiteracy, but these drawbacks are there, nonetheless, which, if not a problem to him, to most nativists these clearly were. His Anglo prejudice towards the Irish was just a cog in the overall machinery of American racism, a discourse that was honed even further during the Eugenics movement at the dawn of the twentieth-century and later on culminating, on a global scale, with the Holocaust during World War II. Thoreau’s Environmental Concerns: Textual and Scholarly Approaches Still practically at the dawn of the twenty-first century, we are baffled by how Thoreau’s environmental concerns remain such an up-to-date issue – especially when most countries around the world have ratified the Paris Treaty on climate change and global warming. In the particular case of Thoreau, contemporary ecocriticism scholars have revisited most of Thoreau’s writings in the past two or three decades to note the contemporaneity of his views regarding environmental issues. His concern with nature became a lifelong obsession which, in the course of time, he explored at length in his writings. Field is a representative of a farmer in rural America who was tilling the land and fertilizing it with manure, an environment that was still essentially clean and unpolluted. The same could be said for Thoreau when “he describes himself at work among his beans,” notes Leo Marx, where “Thoreau is the American husbandman. Like the central figure of the Jeffersonian idyll, his vocation has a moral and spiritual as well as economic significance” (Marx 255–256). In the aftermath of the industrial revolution, the subsequent generations of farmers and writers had to deal with a different reality, issues which Leo Marx has discussed in his classic study, The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America. These changes are reflected in the mainstream, canonical literature produced thereafter as well as in some writings crafted by the minorities through con- temporary ethnic writers. Although Thoreau “is today considered the first major interpreter of nature in American literary history, the first American environmentalist saint,” notes Lawrence Buell,” this “position did not come easily to him” (“Thoreau…” 171). In this respect, Thoreau was rather self-taught considering that he, Buell further adds, started adult life from a less advantageous position than we sometimes realize, as a village busi- nessman’s son of classical education rather than a someone versed in nature through systematic botanical study, agriculture, or more than a very ordinary sort of experiential contact with it. Unlike William Bartram, Thoreau had no man of science for a father; unlike Thomas Jefferson, he had no agrarian roots. His first intellectual promptings to study and write about nature were from books, and literary mentors like Ralph Waldo Emerson” (Buell 171). In The Maine Woods (1864), Thoreau’s concern was with forest ecology, namely logging and its dangers for the ecological system. In this piece, Thoreau views nature as a sacred place which is being tampered with and turned into a commodity. After several trips to these woods, Thoreau came to the realization that they were not an inexhaustible resource. The woodcutters or timber-hunters, notes Joseph J. Moldenhauer, “foreshad- ows the logger, a hireling, braggart, and vandal who desecrates the temple of the wilderness and tramples Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 6 of 12 its most delicate growth even as he fells its grandest pines” (132). In The Maine Woods, Thoreau narrates the episode in which his cousin killed a moose just for fun. For him, killing a moose and chopping down trees is like a murder. He deplored the fact that both the wood derived from the fallen trees and the leather from the deer’s hide would be turned into commodities. As a prophet, Thoreau was well ahead of his time for he could anticipate the ecological disasters we have witnessed of late. With some of these Thoreauvian concerns as a backdrop, let us now ascertain how specific groups of immi- grants hailing from agrarian Old World societies dealt with nature, farming, and gardening – the Portuguese in particular. Portuguese American Attitudes towards Environmental Concerns Before delving into contemporary American writings produced by American writers of Portuguese ancestry, a brief historical overview of farming and gardening in the areas of settlement by some immigrants from the Azores or continental Portugal is called for. It may help us understand the world they came from and how they tried to replicate it in the United States. Around 1880, with the arrival of Azoreans from Fayal, in Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, a small Azorean farming community emerged there with “cottages closely surrounded by well-kept vegetable gar- dens, clustering loosely about a small Catholic church” (Pap 141), hence replicating a familiar rural scene from Portugal. With the rapid industrialization of the Northeast, most Portuguese immigrants crowded in cities and looked for jobs in the cotton mills and other local industries rather than farming even if they often grew a small vegetable garden to supplement their income. But it was in California where the Portuguese really thrived in agriculture and in the dairy industry. Small groups of Azoreans made their way there during the Gold Rush days. With little capital to invest in mining, most of these immigrants applied their ancestral farming skills into intensive farming and fruit orchards around the San Francisco area. They usually started out renting land and gradually buying it. In Sacramento, they excelled at growing vegetables, while in Fresno County they worked at the vineyards, and in the San Joaquin Valley they grew field, feed, and grain crops. In the San Leandro area, these immigrants, while improving their land, they obtained “two or more crops from the same field in the course of the year, e.g. by planting vegetables between rows of bearing trees” (Pap 144). This agricultural mentality reflects their attempt at replicating, in California, agricultural practices from their volcanic islands in the Azores. This mentality is quite well rendered in a passage in The Valley of the Moon (1913), written by Jack London. Antonio Silva, we learn, is a savvy farmer who owns a “town house in San Leandro now. An’ he rides around in a four-thousan’-dollar tourin’-car. An’ just the same his front dooryard grows onions to the sidewalk. He clears three hundred a year on that patch alone” (110). One may argue that Silva is a greedy businessman maximizing whatever piece of land he owns, but one must not overlook the culture and geography that shaped this Azorean immigrant. He simply exemplifies the hard-working farmer who has brought his old mentality to America, as indicated when the lineman shows Silva’s farm to Billy and Saxon: Look at that, though you ought to see it in summer. Not an inch wasted. Where we get one thin crop, they get four fat crops. An’ look at the way they crowd it – currants between the tree rows, beans between the currant rows, a row of beans close on each side the trees, an’ rows of beans along the ends of the tree rows. Why, Silva wouldn’t sell these five acres for five hundred an acre, cash down. (111) This farming technique, however, leaves the land totally exhausted after a few years. These Portuguese farm- ers act much as does, for example, Ishmael Bush in James Fenimore Cooper’s The Prairie, who went West deliberately to skim “the cream from the face of the earth and get the very honey of nature” (311). These farmers are denuding the land for quick returns, a practice Thoreau would certainly have deplored. This typical Azorean way of farming is also referred to in an autobiography written by Josephine B. Korth, Wind Chimes in My Apple Tree (1978). Her parents were Azorean immigrants in California who made a living in agriculture. She worked most of her life as a single or married woman in the fields growing asparagus and other vegetables. Much of what she learned about farming when she was a young girl helping her father in the fields would be useful when she became a married woman. Early into the story, she tells us that “On our ranch the asparagus ferns were growing beautifully. My father had also planted beans between the rows of the asparagus which were planted about five or six feet apart” (53–54). Maximizing the farmland for a profit and securing the family’s sustenance were two priorities for Portuguese immigrants, especially in California. Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Art. 13, page 7 of 12 Doing away with this ancestral farming mentality was not discarded even if it was ridiculed by native-born Americans considering the spaciousness of these Californian farms. Transplanted on American soil, these immigrants brought with them a culture and ways which they could not easily toss away. Doing so meant becoming de-personalized for the produce from their farms repre- sented not just bodily and economic sustenance but an attempt to replicate the landscapes they had grown up with in the old country and this, in turn, allowed for spiritual sustenance and maintaining one’s identity. It was actually the California dairy industry than farming, New England cottage gardening or orchard- growing that brought about the relative wealth of the Portuguese in the United States. They had brought with them to the New World a centuries-old tradition in dairying. By 1915, these Azorean immigrants owned about half of the dairy land in the San Joaquin Valley. The agricultural practices in Hawaii, however, were quite different from those in New England and California due to its climate. The Madeiran and Azorean settlers who had been transported there on ships for over a span of three or four decades (from 1878 to 1913), were engaged in the local sugar cane and pineapple indus- tries. The owners of these plantations gave up traditional agricultural and economic ventures in pastures, cattle-raising, and woodland to clear up more and more acres of land for the mass production of pineapples and sugar for the market. This reality is well-rendered in Armine Von Tempski’s novel, Hawaiian Harvest (1933/1990), where these Portuguese farmers, like others hailing from Asian countries, were conditioned by the mainstream’s “colonial gaze” (86), as epitomized by Homi Bhabha in his study, The Location of Culture. In contemporary Portuguese-American fiction, the garden is a place where one can grow vegetables and flowers; a place for preserving one’s ethnic identity and ancestral rural way of life; or a retreat from the alienating conditions imposed by the factory, commercial fishing, the whaling or dairy industries, and intensive farming – activities in which the first generations of Portuguese (mostly Azorean and Madeiran) immigrants, dating back to the nineteenth-century, excelled in the three traditional areas of settlement in the United States: New England, California, and Hawaii. Mainlanders would follow them throughout the twentieth-century. Since the nation’s inception – that is, with Jeffersonian and Jacksonian agrarianism – the garden and the machine have been at the heart of the American experience, and these realities have galvanized American scholars and writers. Contemporary “ecocriticism” scholars such as Lawrence Buell have called our atten- tion to the dangers of pollution on the American landscape and its physical environment. However, in his attempt to distinguish between “green” and “brown” landscapes – that is, the landscapes of “exurbia and industrialization” (Writing for an Endangered World 7) – this framework is not applicable to Portuguese- American writings. In the Californian landscapes and gardens of Katherine Vaz’s (1955-) fiction, and those from Massachusetts in the fiction and poetry of Frank Gaspar (1946-), Buell’s “toxic discourse” does not find a congenial home. References to the ethnic garden abound in the fiction of Katherine Vaz, especially in Saudade (1994), and in Frank Gaspar’s novel Leaving Pico (1999), as well as his first three volumes of poems, The Holyoke (1988), Mass for the Grace of a Happy Death (1995), and A Field Guide to the Heavens (1999). The gardens in these writings are not polluted with toxic waste or invaded by the ominous sound of civilization as represented by the emblematic whistle of the train in Thoreau’s Walden. My contention is that in Portuguese-American writing, these matters are nowhere to be seen. Instead, the gardens bring to the fore aspects that are quintessentially marked by immigrant experience. Surrounded by the hustle and bustle of public, mainstream life, the gardens often reflect aspects inherent in the pri- vate, intimate side of the Portuguese ethnic experience in the United States. In addition, these gardens are depicted as oases of tranquility, providing cultural and spiritual sustenance. Moreover, they allow for what Leo Marx views as a “retreat into the primitive or rural felicity”, and a “yearning for a simpler, more harmoni- ous style of life, an existence ‘closer to nature”’ (6). In the context of Portuguese-American life in the United States, for those keen on growing a garden, such an activity allowed for a brief respite from a demanding work schedule – in the New England textile mills, in California’s competitive dairy industry, or in the peril- ous whaling industry in Massachusetts – and a momentary return to a simpler way of life, given that most of these immigrants had been farmers or fishermen back in the old country. These are some of the issues that we encounter in the works of mainstream American writers of Portuguese descent. In essence, the garden functions as the liaison with the old country and as an incentive for recollection of a past that can no longer be retrieved: the stories and conversations exchanged with relatives and friends while tilling the fields, or the competition among women as to whose garden has the most variety. While planting kale, turnips, tomatoes, peppers, onions, corn, and flowers, for example, the characters in the fictional gardens of Portuguese-American writings experience what William Conlogue defines as the Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 8 of 12 georgic mode – that is, the “earth worker, farmer” and the pleasure involved in husbandry (as opposed to the pastoral mode), meaning a “retreat into a ‘green world’ to escape the pressures of complex urban life. In a rural or wilderness landscape, the character’s interaction with the natural world restores him, and, ideally, he returns to the city better able to cope with the stresses of civilization” (6–8). Without a doubt, this is an idea borrowed from Emerson, for he, too, had been concerned with the consequences of human toil and the industrial revolution on the “body and mind,” which, in his view, have been “cramped by noxious work or company”, but “nature is medicinal and restores their tone”. He goes on to note that the “tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again” (9–10). For these Portuguese immigrants caught in this industrial, back-breaking and alienating web, retriev- ing their dignity and ancestral culture via the ethnic garden was their way of becoming, in Emerson’s words, a “man again” (10). Writing about the garden, of course, has a long literary tradition in the Western world. While Virgil’s Georgics and Hesiod’s Works and Days are the anchors of gardening literature, Andrew Marvell’s poetic con- tributions, too, cannot be ignored. As we will see in the writings of Katherine Vaz and Frank Gaspar, there is really no need to escape into a rural area or even the wilderness, since the setting in Saudade, for example, is a rural community in California, while Leaving Pico captures Portuguese American life in a fishing com- munity on the tip of Cape Cod. Whatever retreat there actually is, it is instead into the ancestral culture and the old habits and ways of life, and how these can be safeguarded in a new environment. Challenged and often pressured to assimilate a whole new set of values and ways, the very act of gardening has been a means through which Portuguese Americans have asserted their identity and national origin. With these theoretical considerations on the garden, to what extent does the ethnic garden touch upon quintessential aspects of immigrant life in Portuguese American communities in the United States? And how does its representation in the fiction and poetry of Gaspar and Vaz contrast with the gardens in canoni- cal mainstream fiction offered by Wharton, Cable, and London? The most representative poem on the ethnic garden in Gaspar’s The Holyoke (1988), winner of the 1988 Morse Poetry Prize, is “Potatoes.” Unlike his more recent volumes of poetry, The Holyoke focuses on certain aspects of the lives of Portuguese Americans in Provincetown, Massachusetts, a predominantly fishing community. It is an unusual poem because it high- lights the fondness that the Portuguese evince in growing a vegetable or fruit garden in their backyards. This is an aspect that characterizes Portuguese immigrant life in the United States and shows that even in an industrial setting—as is, for example, the Ironbound section of Newark, New Jersey—the Portuguese still plant vegetable and flower gardens today. In their attempt to hold onto an ancestral way of life, they find in these gardens a spiritual connection with the old country. Leaving Pico is a novel about Azorean immigrant life in Provincetown, and how this community reacts to, or resists, American ways. In this novel about Josie’s coming of age, there are numerous references to the Azorean presence on the very tip of Cape Cod: the kale and potato gardens, the social clubs and club bands, the fish served during the two clambakes that take place during the course of the novel, the names on the fishing boats (most of which highlight this community’s strong Catholic beliefs—the Coração de Jesus, the Amor de Deus, and so on), the fado music played at parties and social gatherings, and the rituals associated with their Catholic calendar throughout the year, namely the sodalities, the festivals with their street proces- sions, the Blessing of the Fleet, and so on. As Clemente has noted, “Gaspar structures his narrative around two clambakes”, and most of the food con- sumed during both events comes either from the sea or the ethnic garden (Clemente 41). But what is actu- ally grown in these gardens? In the episode in which the firemen and neighbors are trying to extinguish the fire in Madeleine Sylvia’s house, the narrator tells us that “Maybe everything was over in minutes. I couldn’t tell. But both yards were a mess. Our little garden had been trampled, and kale and turnips lay crushed on the wet ground” (176). With the intent of saving money on food, such a habit also highlights their rural back- ground and way of life in the old country, and how these cannot be easily erased in their country of adop- tion. In addition to these vegetables, for the last clambake, which is organized to mourn Josie’s grandfather, the narrator notes that “Ernestina had already left us with a bushel of sweet corn from her garden” (206). Writing about the ethnic garden is a theme we find in Saudade (1994), a novel in which Katherine Vaz captures the clash between the old and new worlds in a number of ways. Saudade is centered on Clara, a deaf-mute girl from the Azorean island Terceira, who inherits the property of her immigrant uncle Victor who lived in California. Through scheming, Father Teo Eiras convinces Clara’s mother, on her deathbed, to sign the deed of the land over to the church. Eventually, he becomes Clara’s legal guardian, and both sail away to Lodi, California. Through time, Clara unsuccessfully uses her sex appeal to retrieve her land. As Father Teo Eiras gradually fades out of her life, Clara befriends Doctor Helio Soares. It is during this episode Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Art. 13, page 9 of 12 that they both build what, by American standards, looks like an unusual garden. To repay his love, attention, and companionship, Clara, we learn, begins to carry cuttings of rosemary and seeds for blackeyed Susans to his house to start a roof garden – a legacy from being born in a small country where people planted their roofs to own more land and as a sign of the melancholy trust that one day a siege must come. Helio bought flats of basil, thyme, and petunias for her projects, and they hauled sacks of dirt up the ladder to strew on his house. Greens, yellows, and pastels soon became visible on the red roof, and from a distance Clara could see her mark like a quilt she had tossed outward from her bed. Most afternoons, when Helio returned from his patients, she was already at work, waving to invite him to ascend into the garden. A sunflower leaned against the chimney and herbs were drying on old honeycomb frames. The sun baked the hose when Clara stretched it up to the roof, and the water came out warm enough for tea. She filled a jar with water and crumbled in dried mint. Once while drinking her tea, the heat made them unwind backward, side by side, to take in the light. (206–07) As I have noted earlier, the Azoreans’ farming techniques referred to in this quote are the object of ridicule in Jack London’s The Valley of the Moon. Before London, however, Mark Twain’s The Innocents Abroad (which contains an account of Otherness as the Quaker City sails toward the Azores, Europe, and the Holy Land) focused on the agricultural techniques of the Azoreans on the island of Fayal (Faial), especially in chapters five and six. This mentality is also present in Vaz’s Saudade in the sense that the novel, apart from evincing other interests, aims at capturing the ways and mentality of Portuguese characters transplanted to American soil. Apart from the strangeness in this rooftop garden, the agricultural mentality under consideration substantiates the ancestral habit of maximizing whatever land was available, regardless of whether these fictional immigrants were now living in spacious California. As islanders, this behavior explains in part why coming from a place where land was a precious commodity and its availability for cultivation limited meant that for them no piece of land, however small, should be left bare. Back in the volcanic islands of the Azores, notes Onésimo Almeida, the plots of land were usually very small and not one single inch was left uncultivated. Land was vital for their survival and there was simply little or no room for aesthetic pur- poses such as having a flower garden. Whatever flowers grew, these were often planted on the corners of their properties, unsuitable locales for vegetables to grow (89). In addition, Vaz’s rooftop garden stresses the vulnerability of the Azoreans who, from an historical point of view, experienced various sieges during times of political turmoil. In the case of ethnic fiction – and in particular, that of Clara, as in most real Portuguese immigrants – growing a garden in one’s backyard is emblematic of the ethnic experience in America. It allows for spiritual fulfillment – the work that their souls must have – and is a means of connecting with the old country. Momentarily, at least, these gardeners may daydream about the simpler way of life they left behind, since alienation and drudgery in their workplaces are a daily reality. Whereas for Vaz’s father and grandfather, gardening was a pastime and supposedly a marker of identity brought from the Azores, in other Portuguese-American communities, gardening provided food in times of need. Such was the case in Gloucester, Massachusetts, a small fishing town where the Portuguese had settled—“Portagee Hill,” as the streets located on the upper part of this fishing town are often known. In an eyewitness account of life in this fishing community, Arthur K. Rose notes that despite the families’ eco- nomic difficulties, they would often “get together and go on picnics over to Braces Cove, a barren strip of beach on the Back Shore” (2). Instead of buying their provisions at the local grocery stores, they “would pack baskets and even washtubs full of food, mostly from their gardens, and beer and homemade wine” (2). While the sea provided them with fish and their gardens with vegetables, these fishermen and their wives were extremely self-reliant. Without a doubt, these traits had been acquired in the Azores where people, before emigrating, had fared no better. Although during the Depression, they (like everyone else across the nation) had faced hard times, they had arrived in America, so to speak, well-equipped to face such hardships. “Most of the people,” Rose notes, grew their own food in the backyard. What one didn’t have, the other did. Corn, potatoes, kale, car- rots; you name it, they grew it. They raised chickens for the eggs as well as for food, and sometimes families would get together and buy a pig. That was an all day event in itself; when it came time to get the pig, the families would go to the farm and have the pig slaughtered. (4) Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 10 of 12 Evidence of immigrant communities attempting to preserve some of their rurality within a cityscape can also be found in the novel by Canadian writer, Hugh Garner, Cabbagetown (1968), set in the Toronto neigh- borhood known as Cabbage Town. It is a story of the impoverished lives intertwining in Depression-era Toronto, a place of great sadness and resignation. Both in Gloucester and Toronto, the ethnic garden was a response to the availability of green spaces in immigrant neighborhoods in America or Canada. In New Eng- land and the Middle Atlantic states most houses have a backyard. Rose also points out that harvest time and the “fall months” were an “especially fond time” for him. “That’s when [his] family would put up their fruits and vegetables in preserving jars for the coming winter” (4). Moreover, it “was a lot of work to put the food up in jars, but when it was all over they felt a sense of pride and they knew they had enough to eat for the long New England winter that was facing them” (5). Possessing these survival skills was a plus in such harsh New England conditions. But such expertise, so to speak, had already been acquired in similar, if not worse, economic conditions in the old country during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The ethnic garden in Portuguese-American writing instead mirrors the idiosyncrasies of this particular ethnic background. Ranging from the Catholic fervor to the ancestral rural origins of most Portuguese Americans, in the fiction and poetry of Vaz and Gaspar, the theme of the garden in a way allows for an ethnic rewriting of the fables in which the busy ant or bee is constantly providing for the long and harsh winters. In Portuguese-American literature, the so-called pioneer generations in these writings—that is, the first- and second-generation fictional immigrants—are portrayed as obsessed with creating the conditions for a better life in a new country even if they, like the ants and bees, have to toil night and day. And, clearly, during the phase of rapid industrialization and intensive farming in the nineteenth- and twentieth- centuries, Thoreau’s and Emerson’s views on nature and spirituality were overlooked as most of America’s landscape became a toxic wasteland. Thoreau, as we have seen, has called for a profound appreciation and respect towards nature. Worth mentioning, nonetheless, is the movement to protect America’s forests from the onslaught of industrialization in the latter part of the nineteenth-century. At the time, national reserves and parks were created so as to counteract the toxic wasteland. A case in point was Frederick Law Olmsted’s militancy on behalf of the idea that all American cities should have green areas. His essay “Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns” (1870) is an important contribution to that. Apart from our current interest in environmentalism, ecocriticism, and a greater respect for nature, nature is no longer perceived as a locale for Emersonian pantheists. Whatever spirituality Emerson had noted in nature, it is quite evident that these Portuguese immigrants (and others from rural societies as was the case with the Italians) had grasped and updated it when working in their vegetable gardens. Once here, they became human – an Emersonian man – once again, temporarily free from the alienation imposed by the factory or the fisheries while recon- necting with their ancestral culture, living momentarily as spiritually fulfilled beings. A contemporary of Emerson, Thoreau’s writings on nature are like the sounds of a friendly, cautionary foghorn resounding into the future, warning future generations about the toxicity of the industrial revolution and its consequences on nature and human beings. Competing Interests The author has no competing interests to declare. Author Information Reinaldo Silva was educated in both the United States (Ph.D., New York University, in 1998; M.A., Rutgers University, in 1989) and Portugal (Licenciatura, University of Coimbra, in 1985) and holds dual citizenship. He has lectured at several American universities and is currently a Professor of English at the University of Aveiro. His teaching and research interests include nineteenth- and twentieth- century American literature and contemporary emergent literatures, with a special focus on Portuguese American writers. At this point, he has published about seventy essays, sixty of which in international peer-reviewed journals, encyclopaedia entries, chapters in books, and has also authored two books: Representations of the Portuguese in American Literature, published by the University of Massachusetts in 2008, and Portuguese American Literature, in the United Kingdom, by Humanities-Ebooks, in 2009. He co-authored Neither Here Nor There, Yet Both: Portugal and North America In-Between Writings, in 2016, and has also collaborated in the translation of Adelaide Freitas’ novel, Sorriso por dentro da noite (Smiling in the Darkness) into English, which is scheduled for pub- lication in October of 2019, in the USA, by Tagus Press. His forthcoming book is tentatively titled, Hybridity in Portuguese American Literature. Reinaldo Silva completou a sua formação académica nos Estados Unidos da América (Ph.D., New York University, em 1998; M.A., Rutgers University, em 1989) e em Portugal (Licenciatura, Universidade de Coimbra, Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s Walden Art. 13, page 11 of 12 em 1985) e tem dupla nacionalidade. Lecionou em várias universidades norte-americanas e presentemente exerce as funções de Professor em Estudos Ingleses na Universidade de Aveiro. É docente e investigador no âmbito dos estudos literários e culturais afetos aos séculos XIX, XX, e XXI, nomeadamente a literatura e cultura norte-americanas assim como a literatura luso-americana contemporânea em língua inglesa. Até ao momento, já publicou cerca de setenta ensaios de crítica literária, sessenta dos quais em revistas académi- cas internacionais com peer review, verbetes em enciclopédias de literatura, capítulos em vários livros e é autor de dois livros: Representations of the Portuguese in American Literature, publicado pela University of Massachusetts em 2008 e Portuguese American Literature, no Reino Unido, pela editora Humanities-Ebooks, em 2009. É co-autor do livro, Nem Cá Nem Lá: Portugal e América do Norte Entre Escritas, publicado em 2016, e também colaborou na tradução e revisão da tradução do romance de Adelaide Freitas, Sorriso por dentro da noite (Smiling in the Darkness) para língua inglesa, presentemente a aguardar publicação em Outubro de 2019 nos EUA pela Tagus Press. O título do seu novo livro, Hybridity in Portuguese American Literature, no momento aguarda publicação. References Almeida, Onésimo Teotónio. “O jardim como extensão da casa-do-estar: Uma amostra luso-americana.” O Peso do Hífen: Ensaios sobre a experiência luso-americana. Imprensa de Ciências Sociais, 2010, pp. 89–96. Bhabha, Homi K. The Location of Culture. Routledge, 1994. Buell, Lawrence. “Thoreau and the Natural Environment.” The Cambridge Companion To Henry David Thoreau. Editor Joel Myerson. Cambridge UP, 1995, pp. 171–193. Buell, Lawrence. Writing for an Endangered World: Literature, Culture, and Environment in the U.S. and Beyond. Harvard UP, 2001. Clemente, Alice R. “Of Love and Remembrance: The Poetry and Prose of Frank X. Gaspar.” Gávea-Brown: A Bilingual Journal of Portuguese-American Letters and Studies No. 21, 2000, pp. 25–43. DOI: https://doi. org/10.1145/330534.330552 Conlogue, William. Working the Garden: American Writers and the Industrialization of Agriculture. U of North Carolina P, 2001. Cooper, James Fenimore. The Prairie. Editor Henry Nash Smith. Rinehart, 1949. Edwards, Justin D. “‘It is the race instinct!’: Evolution, Eugenics, and Racial Ambiguity in William Dean Howells’s Fiction.” Evolution and Eugenics in America Literature and Culture, 1880–1940. Ed. Lois A. Cuddy and Claire M. Roche. Bucknell UP, 2003, pp. 59–72. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Nature in Selected Writings of Emerson. Ed. Donald McQuade. The Modern Library, 1981, pp. 1–42. Engle, Anna. “Depictions of the Irish in Frank Webb’s The Garies and Their Friends and Frances E. W. Harper’s Trial and Triumph.” MELUS No. 26, issue 1 (Spring 2001), pp. 151–171. DOI: https://doi. org/10.2307/3185501 Garner, Hugh. Cabbagetown. McGraw-Hill Ryerson, 2002. Gaspar, Frank X. Leaving Pico. UP of New England, 1999. Gaspar, Frank X. The Holyoke. Northeastern UP, 1988. Hasian, Jr. Marouf A. The Rhetoric of Eugenics in Anglo-American Thought. The U of Georgia P, 1996. Ignatiev, Noel. How the Irish Became White. Routledge, 1995. “Ireland.” The New Encyclopaedia Britannica—Micropaedia. Vol. 6. 15th Ed. Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 1988, pp. 378–380. “Ireland.” The New Encyclopaedia Britannica—Macropaedia. Vol. 21. 15th Ed. Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 1988, pp. 951–968. Korth, Josephine B. Wind Chimes in My Apple Tree. Island Winds, 1978. London, Jack. The Valley of the Moon. Editor David Rejl. Reprint of the Cosmopolitan Magazine, 1988. Marx, Leo. The Machine in the Garden: Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America. Oxford UP, 1964. Miguéis, José Rodrigues. Gente da terceira classe. Estampa, 1983. Moldenhauer, Joseph J. “The Maine Woods.” The Cambridge Companion to Henry David Thoreau. Editor Joel Myerson. Cambridge UP, 1995, pp. 124–141. Olmsted, Frederick Law. Public Parks and the Enlargement of Towns. Ayer, 1970. Pap, Leo. The Portuguese-Americans. Twayne, 1981. Rose, Arthur K. Portagee Hill and a People: A Tribute to the Portuguese People. Sea Shore Literary, 1991. Silva, Reinaldo. Representations of the Portuguese in American Literature. Center for Portuguese Studies and Culture/University of Massachusetts Dartmouth, 2008. https://doi.org/10.1145/330534.330552 https://doi.org/10.1145/330534.330552 https://doi.org/10.2307/3185501 https://doi.org/10.2307/3185501 Silva: Henry David Thoreau’s WaldenArt. 13, page 12 of 12 Taft, Donald R. Two Portuguese Communities in New England. Arno Press and The New York Times, 1969. Tempski, Armine Von. Hawaiian Harvest. Ox Bow Press, 1990. Thoreau, Henry David. The Maine Woods in The Writings of Henry D. Thoreau. Ed. Joseph J. Moldenhauer. Princeton UP, 1972. Thoreau, Henry David. Walden and Civil Disobedience. Ed. Sherman Paul. Houghton Mifflin, 1960. Twain, Mark. The Innocents Abroad and Roughing It. Library of America, 1984. “United States of America.” The New Encyclopaedia Britannica—Macropaedia. Vol. 29. 15th Ed. Encyclopaedia Britannica, Inc., 1988, pp. 153–476. Vaz, Katherine. Saudade. St. Martin’s, 1994. Wray, Matt. Not Quite White: White Trash and the Boundaries of Whiteness. Duke UP, 2006. DOI: https://doi. org/10.1215/9780822388593 Zinn, Howard. A People’s History of the United States. Harper & Row, 1980. How to cite this article: Silva, Reinaldo Francisco. “Henry David Thoreau’s Walden: Immigration, Ecocriticism, and Otherness”. Anglo Saxonica, No. 17, issue 1, art. 13, 2020, pp. 1–12. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/as.7 Submitted: 26 September 2019 Accepted: 26 September 2019 Published: 29 January 2020 Copyright: © 2020 The Author(s). This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Anglo Saxonica is a peer-reviewed open access journal published by Ubiquity Press. OPEN ACCESS https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822388593 https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822388593 https://doi.org/10.5334/as.7 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ From Patronizing Otherness to a Rhetoric of Eugenics Thoreau’s Environmental Concerns: Textual and Scholarly Approaches Portuguese American Attitudes towards Environmental Concerns Competing Interests Author Information References 
work_gollnhoulvey5bgkwebsv6hb3e	----	Microsoft Word - _1 Brophy_b_Master.doc 603 Property and Progress: Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law Alfred L. Brophy* ABSTRACT Landscape art in the Antebellum Era (the period before the American Civil War, 1861-1865), often depicts the role of humans on the landscape. Humans appear as hunters, settlers, and travelers, and human structures appear as well, from rude paths, cabins, mills, bridges, and canals to railroads and telegraph wires. Those images parallel cases, treatises, orations, essays, and fictional literature that discuss property’s role in fostering economic and moral development. The images also parallel developments in property doctrine, particularly related to adverse possession, mistaken improvers, nuisance, and eminent domain. Some of the conflicts in property rights that gripped antebellum thought also appear in paintings, including ambivalence about progress, concern over development of land, and fear of the excesses of commerce. The concerns about wealth, as well as the concerns about the lack of control through law, appear at various points. Other paintings celebrate intellectual, moral, technological, and economic progress. The paintings thus remind us of how antebellum Americans understood property as they struggled with the changes in the role of property from protection of individual autonomy of the eighteenth century to the promotion of economic growth in the nineteenth century. Wild nature, uninhabited and uncorrupted by humans, may be the image that is most conjured by the phrase “American landscape art.” One might think of * Reef C. Ivey II Professor of Law, University of North Carolina. With apologies to those who, over the past 120 years, have used similar titles: Stephen Thernstrom, Poverty and Progress: Social Mobility in a Nineteenth Century City (1964), who in turn built on Henry George’s Progress and Poverty (1879). The first three words of my title are the same as William Hurrell Mallock’s Property and Progress: Or, A Brief Inquiry into Contemporary Social Agitation in England (1884), a sustained critique of Henry George. Thanks to Brian Landsberg, Miriam Cherry, Ruth Jones, and John Sims for their kind invitation to present this paper as part of the Distinguished Speakers Series at University of the Pacific, McGeorge School of Law; and to Martee Reeg for her kind invitation to speak at the Westervelt Warner Museum and her comments; and to Katherine Bettis, William S. Brewbaker, James W. Ely, Daniel M. Filler, Tony Freyer, Daniel Hamilton, Yury Kolesnikov, James Krier, Michael Mendle, John Nagle, Donna Nixon, and Meredith Render for their comments. I am also extraordinarily grateful for permission to reproduce images from the Brooklyn Museum, the Gulf States Paper Corporation, Indiana University-Bloomington Art Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Meade Art Museum of Amherst College, and the National Gallery of Art. Contact the author at abrophy@email.unc.edu or 919.962.4128. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 604 John Locke’s phrase that “[t]hus in the beginning all the World was America.” 1 Locke’s phrase calls to mind the state of nature. Indeed, some landscape painters of our early national period depicted scenes of nature. In Jasper Cropsey’s Autumn on the Hudson, America appears new and uninhabited, as it is in Thomas Cole’s 1826 Falls of Kaaterskill (image 1). Sometimes when people are shown on the landscape, as in Frederic Church’s Hooker and Company Journeying Through the Wilderness from Plymouth to Hartford, the landscape is, well, a wilderness. (Church’s Above the Clouds at Sunrise, image 2, has no humans present.) Such images and Locke’s phrase parallel Americans’ self-image in the 1830s that the world of the mind is new and untried. When Ralph Waldo Emerson told the Literary Societies in Dartmouth College in 1843, “[t]he perpetual admonition of nature to us is, ‘The world is new, untried. Do not believe the past. I give you the universe a virgin to-day,’” 2 he expressed the grand optimism of antebellum Americans that they were different—and ought to celebrate that difference—from Europeans. Emerson sought to reclaim early Americans’ practical ability to have a direct relationship with God and nature. 3 1. JOHN LOCKE, TWO TREATISES OF GOVERNMENT 301 (Peter Laslett ed., 1988) (1690). With all of the changes brewing in American society, it is easy to forget, however, that Locke appended to that saying, “and more so than that is now.” For even in Locke’s time—the middle of the seventeenth century—there was substantial development in the Americas. Id.; see also BARBARA ARNEIL, JOHN LOCKE AND AMERICA: THE DEFENSE OF ENGLISH COLONIZATION 1 (1996). Locke had already told how central property was to economic development, with an illustration from the experience of American Indians, whose standard of living was perceived to be inferior to that of common laborers in England. See generally, LOCKE, supra. [S]everal Nations of the Americans are of this, who are rich in Land, and poor in all the Comforts of Life; whom Nature having furnished as liberally as any other people, with the materials of Plenty, i.e. a fruitful Soil, apt to produce in abundance, what might serve for food, raiment, and delight; yet for want of improving it by labour, have not one hundredth part of the Conveniences we enjoy: And a king of a large and fruitful Territory there feeds, lodges, and is clad worse than a day Labourer in England. Id. at 296-97. Commerce was central to property. Locke illustrated this by asking what would the value of property be if it is so far away from the stream of commerce that the produce could not make it to market? What would a Man value Ten Thousand, or an Hundred Thousand Acres of excellent Land, ready cultivated, and well stocked too with Cattle, in the middle of the inland Parts of America, where he had no hopes of Commerce with other Parts of the World, to draw Money to him by the Sale of the Product? It would not be worth the inclosing, and we should see him give up again to the wild Common of Nature, whatever was more than would supply the Conveniences of Life to be had there for him and his Family. Id. 2. RALPH WALDO EMERSON, Literary Ethics, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES 127, 138 (Cambridge, Riverside Press 1883) (1855). 3. Edward W. Emerson, Introduction to NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 11, 11- 13. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 605 Image 1 Thomas Cole. Falls of Kaaterskill (1826) Reproduced with permission of Gulf States Paper Corporation, Tuscaloosa, AL. Property of the Westervelt Company and displayed in the Westervelt-Warner Museum of American Art in Tuscaloosa, AL. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 606 Image 2 Frederic Church, Above the Clouds at Sunrise (1849) Reproduced with permission of Gulf States Paper Corporation. Property of the Westervelt Company and displayed in the Westervelt-Warner Museum of American Art in Tuscaloosa, AL. I. THE AMERICAN SCHOLAR AND THE AMERICAN JURIST Judges were among those Americans who sought that direct relationship between truth and modes of thought in the early nineteenth century. Judges frequently returned to original principles. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s 1837 “The American Scholar” Address told of the life of the mind in America. 4 It urged a rejection of irrational precedent and a vigorous adaption of literature and ideas for each new generation. The scholar bore a striking resemblance to the jurist, who continually re-tested old assumptions: Whatsoever oracles the human heart, in all emergencies, in all solemn hours, has uttered as its commentary on the world of actions,—these he shall receive and impart. And whatsoever new verdict Reason from her 4. See generally RALPH WALDO EMERSON, The American Scholar, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 71. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 607 inviolable seat pronounces on the passing men and events of to-day,— this he shall hear and promulgate. 5 American judges came to believe, with Emerson, that “[t]here are new lands, new men, new thoughts.” 6 It was natural, then, for them to “demand our own works and laws and worship.” 7 Americans looked around and saw, with Emerson, extraordinary technological, moral, and economic advances. Theodore Parker characterized the American people’s search for reasons as follows: “[T]here is a philosophical tendency, distinctly visible; a groping after ultimate facts, first principles, and universal ideas. We wish to know first the fact, next the law of that fact, and then the reason of the law.” 8 That process of revisiting precedent and bringing the law into line with reason led to a gradual evolution, particularly in property law. South Carolina attorney Hugh S. Legaré, who later served as attorney general of the United States, wrote in 1828 that “the influence of America upon the mind”—a wonderfully evocative phrase coined by Philadelphia attorney Charles Jared Ingersoll—was most visible in law, where lawyers had to be masters of precedent as well as the reasons for the rule they advanced: Here, at once, we perceive a vast field opened up for original speculation and reasoning. Every case might present a twofold difficulty; first, to decide what was the law in England, and secondly, whether it were applicable here. The latter question it was impossible to answer without going into the true grounds and reasons of the law; and Burke’s lawyer, who was at a loss ‘whenever the waters were out,’ and ‘the file afforded no precedent,’ would often find himself as much embarrassed in an American court of justice, as in our deliberate assemblies. 9 II. TENSION BETWEEN NATURE AND LAW By the nineteenth century, Americans had become accustomed to thinking of nature as something, well, savage. While nature provided beauty and bounties, nature was something that needed to be improved upon and cultivated. We were “nature’s nation” and that meant we were specially privileged; the feudal past that burdened Europe did not burden us. However, we also harnessed that nature and improved upon it. We hear people talking about instructing the moral 5. Id. at 86-87. Emerson drew on some common themes here, which stretched back to Joseph Stevens Buckminster’s On the Dangers and Duties of Men of Letters, 9 MONTHLY ANTHOLOGY & BOSTON REV. 145 (Sept. 1809). 6. Emerson, supra note 3, at 11, 11. 7. Id. 8. THEODORE PARKER, The Political Destination of America, in 2 SPEECHES, ADDRESSES, AND OCCASIONAL SERMONS 198, 214 (Boston, Horace B. Fuller 1867) (1855). 9. Hugh S. Legaré, Kent’s Commentaries, 3 S. REV. 72 (1828). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 608 conscience; about conquering nature; about bringing human institutions, like the rule of law, to the frontier; and about the role of property law in particular in that project. 10 In political philosophy, we no longer thought freedom was greatest in the place where people were in a state of nature; we thought freedom greatest where the government existed to limit the powerful against the weak. University of Virginia Professor Albert Taylor Bledsoe applied such ideas in his proslavery treatise Liberty and Slavery. In opposition to generations of writers, from Hobbes to Locke to Blackstone, who thought that humans gave up freedom to enter society, Bledsoe thought society increased human freedom. “The law which forbids mischief is a restraint not upon the natural liberty, but upon the natural tyranny, of man.” 11 Such sentiments were by no means confined to the world of proslavery theorists. Frequently, Whigs celebrated the role that law played in bringing order to society. Just as humans brought order to nature, the law brought order to humans. Abraham Lincoln’s 1837 address to the Springfield Lyceum was inspired by the scenes of mob rule—mobocracy—that had recently occurred in such places as Natchez, Mississippi (where gamblers were run out of town during a riot), to St. Louis (where a black man was burned to death), to the anti-abolition mobs. Lincoln thought that passions, which had served us so long, should rule us no longer. Instead, we needed reason and the rule of law. “Reason—cold, calculating, unimpassioned reason—must furnish all the materials for our future support and defense. Let those materials be molded into general intelligence, sound morality, and, in particular, a reverence for the Constitution and laws; and that we improved to the last . . . .” 12 In James Fenimore Cooper’s 1827 novel The Prairie, the aging hero Leather- stocking, who once had wandered the forests, following nature’s law of taking only what he could consume and hunted only when necessary 13 (but also was not 10. See, e.g., DONALD MEYER, THE INSTRUCTED CONSCIENCE: THE SHAPING OF THE AMERICAN NATIONAL ETHIC (1972) (focusing on moral philosophy instruction in early America); LAWRENCE FREDERICK KOHL, THE POLITICS OF INDIVIDUALISM: PARTIES AND THE AMERICAN CHARACTER IN THE JACKSONIAN ERA (1989) (discussing conflicting ideas of Democrats and Whigs toward economy and law); PERRY MILLER, THE LIFE OF THE MIND IN AMERICA: FROM THE REVOLUTION TO THE CIVIL WAR 126-31 (1965) (focusing on ideas of evolution in law); G. EDWARD WHITE, THE MARSHALL COURT AND CULTURAL CHANGE, 1815-35, OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES DEVISE: HISTORY OF THE SUPREME COURT OF THE UNITED STATES 640-47 (1988); William W. Fisher III, Ideology, Religion, and the Constitutional Protection of Private Property: 1760-1860, 39 EMORY L.J. 65, 71-75 (1990) (discussing conflicting ideologies in early America). 11. Albert Taylor Bledsoe, Liberty and Slavery: Or, Slavery in the Light of Moral and Political Philosophy, in COTTON IS KING, AND PRO-SLAVERY ARGUMENTS 269, 278 (E.N. Elliot ed., 1860). Many in the Antebellum Era thought in such terms. Boston Unitarian Frederic Henry Hedge spoke during his 1841 Harvard Phi Beta Kappa address, Conservatism and Reform, in such terms: “Law and Liberty are not adverse, but different sides of one fact.” See F. H. HEDGE, Conservatism and Reform, in MARTIN LUTHER AND OTHER ESSAYS 129, 135 (Boston, Roberts Brothers 1888). 12. Abraham Lincoln, Address Before the Young Men’s Lyceum of Springfield, Illinois (Jan. 27, 1837), in 1 COMPLETE WORKS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN 35, 50 (John G. Nicolay & John Hay eds., 1905). 13. And in this he seemed rather like Locke’s description of primitive people, who had the right to collect property for their own use. The greatest part of things really useful to the Life of Man, and such as the necessity of subsisting made the first Commoners of the World look after, as it doth the Americans now, are generally McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 609 constrained by private property, hunting laws, or other human constraints), believed law was now necessary. Upon meeting a young woman traveling on the prairie, Leather-stocking asked, “[w]hy then do you venture in a place where none but the strong should come? . . . Did you not know that when you crossed the Big River you left a friend behind you that is always bound to look to the young and feeble like yourself?” The friend left behind was the law. “[T]is bad to have it,” the Leather- stocking said, “but I sometimes think it is worse to be entirely without it. Age and weakness have brought me to feel such weakness at times. Yes, yes, the law is needed when such as have not the gifts of strength and wisdom are to be taken care of.” 14 The hero observed that “[w]hen the law of the land is weak, it is right the law of nature should be strong.” 15 The converse of this seems to be that when the law of the land is strong, the law of nature should be weak. The theme of law versus nature continued throughout The Prairie. One of the conflicts was between a squatter and the Native Americans who claimed to be the owners of the land where he resided: “Owners!” echoed the squatter, “I am as rightful an owner of the land I stand on, as any governor of the States! Can you tell me, stranger, where the law or the reason is to be found, which says that one man shall have a section, or a town, or perhaps a county to his use, and another have to beg for earth to make his grave in? This is not nature, and I deny that it is law. That is, your legal law.” 16 Literature, like philosophy, was beginning to show the inherently social nature of human beings, who need society and its accompanying law. Some fictional literature illustrates the desire to improve over nature. Edgar Allen Poe’s short story The Domain of Arnheim, (originally published as The Landscape Garden) for instance, tells of a beautiful garden in an otherwise barren land. 17 The domain was built by Seabright Ellison using a fortune (of 450 million dollars) left to him by a remote ancestor, who had devised his fortune to his nearest living heir 100 years after his death. Poe noted the efforts that had things of short duration; such as, if they are not consumed by use, will decay and perish of themselves: Gold, Silver, and Diamonds, are things that Fancy or Agreement hath put the Value on, more than real Use, and the necessary Support of Life. Now of those good things which Nature hath provided in common, every one had a Right (as hath been said) to as much as he could use, and Property in all that he could effect with his Labour; all that his Industry could extend to, to alter from the State Nature had put it in, was his. He that gathered a Hundred Bushels of Acorns or Apples, had thereby a Property in them, they were his Goods as soon as gathered. He was only to look, that he used them before they spoiled, else he took more than his share, and robb’d others. And indeed it was a foolish thing, as well as dishonest, to hoard up more than he could make use of. See LOCKE, supra note 1, ¶ 46. 14. J. FENIMORE COOPER, THE PRAIRIE 22-23 (Cambridge, Riverside Press 1877) (1827). 15. Id. at 102. 16. Id. at 64-65. 17. See EDGAR ALLAN POE, The Domain of Arnheim, in 1 THE WORKS OF THE LATE EDGAR ALLAN POE 388 (New York, Redfield 1857). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 610 been made to defeat the devise (and though they were ineffective, the state legislature prevented similar devises by statute). 18 No one could even begin to conceive of how to spend that fortune, which would generate more than a million dollars a month in income. So Ellison set about “solving what has always seemed to [Poe] an enigma”: that no such combination of scenery exists in nature as the painter of genius may produce. No such paradises are to be found in reality as have glowed on the canvas of Claude. In the most enchanting of natural landscapes, there will always be found a defect or an excess—many excesses and defects. While the component parts may defy, individually, the highest skill of the artist, the arrangement of these parts will always be susceptible of improvement. In short, no position can be attained on the wide surface of the natural earth, from which an artistical eye, looking steadily, will not find matter of offence in what is termed the “composition” of the landscape. 19 The domain was made to look like nature, but it was artificial. It shows the ways that humans might try to create the sublime in landscape, as in literature. All of this depended on the hand of humans and an extraordinary fortune. And thus, even in this idealized setting humans were critical, indeed indispensable. What is perhaps most exciting about the Domain of Arnheim is that it is based on the 1799 English case of Thellusson v. Woodford. 20 The testator, Peter Thellusson, left a fortune of £800,000 to the eldest male lineal descendant who was alive immediately after the death of all the testator’s issue living at the time of the testator’s death. 21 In essence, the testator wanted to disinherit all of his living relatives and leave the money to a remote descendant—a person he had never met and could not meet. Moreover, the money was to accumulate until the remote descendant became eligible to take the estate. 22 That led to Parliament’s passage in 1800 of the Thellusson Act, which limited the accumulations that were permissible. 23 Thus, Poe’s short story was motivated by a case that itself was an important part of the emerging law that limited inherited wealth. A short story about the ways that humans tried to improve upon nature was motivated by a legal controversy that itself was about the struggle to limit inherited wealth. 24 18. Id. at 389-90. 19. Id. at 392-93. 20. 32 Eng. Rep. 1030 (1805). 21. See Robert H. Sitkoff, The Lurking Rule Against Accumulations of Income, 100 NW. U. L. REV. 501, 504 (2006). 22. See id. at 504-05. 23. See id. 24. For more on Thellusson, 32 Eng. Rep. 1030, see GREGORY S. ALEXANDER, COMMODITY & PROPERTY: COMPETING VISIONS OF PROPERTY IN AMERICAN LEGAL THOUGHT, 1776-1970, at 120-21 (1997). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 611 Legal commentators similarly found a progression of rules for the possession of the earth. William Blackstone’s Commentaries rested the right of possession of the earth in Genesis: “In the beginning of the world, we are informed by holy writ, the all-bountiful creator gave to man ‘dominion over all the earth; and over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.’” 25 And as society developed, as we moved from “a state of primaeval simplicity” seen in “the manners of many American nations when first discovered by the Europeans,” there developed rights of property. 26 First, Blackstone hypothesizes, there was the rule that a possessor owned property, but upon abandonment of the property, another might come along and possess it and thus become the owner. 27 But then, as “mankind increased in number, craft, and ambition,” other, more permanent rights emerged. 28 Hence a property was soon established in every man’s house and home— stall; which seem to have been originally mere temporary huts or moveable cabins, suited to the design of providence for more speedily peopling the earth, and suited to the wandering life of their owners, before any extensive property in the soil or ground was established. 29 In the United States, commentaries on Blackstone in turn developed the right to property in more detail. Hugh Henry Brackenridge’s Law Miscellanies asked why there was a right to take property from Native Americans. Brackenridge placed the right on the need to cultivate soil, in order to provide for humans’ needs. 30 There was a biblical basis: “The Lord God sent him forth to till the ground.” 31 There were also practical reasons compelling property rules that promoted agriculture: [C]ommon reason has discovered that from the goodness and benevolence apparent in the whole creation, and from that provision made abundantly for every creature, it must be most agreeable to the Creator that the earth be stored with inhabitants; and that in order to this end, a way of life be chosen in which individuals or particular nations may subsist with the least extent of territory. 32 Brackenridge concluded that those nations that needed more territory and would put it to good use had the right to it. He simply stated the right of a “nation greatly 25. WILLIAM BLACKSTONE, 2 BLACKSTONE’S COMMENTARIES 2-3 (London, A. Strahan & W. Woodfall 1791). 26. Id. at 3. 27. Id. 28. Id. at 4. 29. Id. at 4-5. 30. HUGH HENRY BRACKENRIDGE, LAW MISCELLANIES 122 (Philadelphia, P. Byrne 1814). 31. Genesis 3:23. 32. BRACKENRIDGE, supra note 30, at 122. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 612 populous, whose numbers overcharge the soil, . . . to demand territory from a nation in possession of a soil equally fertile, and less abounding with inhabitants.” 33 Brackenridge relied upon a crude utilitarian argument—one nation could make better use of property than another. In the nineteenth century, such arguments were more commonly linked with the belief that taking property from natives was in everyone’s best interest, not just the best interest of the acquirer. John Locke justified property rights, in part, on the basis that cultivated and improved land yielded a greater return than unenclosed, untilled land. He asked “whether in the wild woods and uncultivated wast[e] of America left to Nature, without any improvement, tillage or husbandry, a thousand acres will yield the needy and wretched inhabitants as many conveniences of life as ten acres of equally fertile land doe in Devonshire where they are well cultivated?” 34 Soon Blackstone’s and Brackenridge’s arguments about the importance of European discovery of relatively uninhabited land in America would become the law of the land through Chief Justice John Marshall’s opinion in Johnson v. M’Intosh. 35 Judges and politicians developed a regime to regulate the acquisition of property and then its use. The rule, succinctly stated by Marshall in Johnson, had several key components: discoverers could acquire title to the property they used; and the discovering nation then had the right to distribute the property, which it owned in common, to its citizens for their private ownership. It is supposed to be a principle of universal law, that, if an uninhabited country be discovered by a number of individuals, who acknowledge no conne[ct]ion with, and owe no allegiance to, any government whatever, the country becomes the property of the discoverers, so far at least as they can use it. They acquire a title in common. The title of the whole land is in the whole society. It is to be divided and parceled out according to the will of the society, expressed by the whole body, or by that organ which is authorized by the whole to express it. 36 Images in landscape ran parallel to those rules; we see the use of property, the harvesting of timber, the turning of forests into fields, and the division of common property into individual property. III. IMAGES OF PROPERTY IN ANTEBELLUM LANDSCAPE ART One might begin this examination of nature and humans through Thomas Cole’s Notch of the White Mountains (image 3) painted in 1839. 37 Thomas Cole 33. Id. at 126. 34. LOCKE, supra note 1, ¶ 37 (294). 35. 21 U.S. (8 Wheat.) 543 (1823). 36. Id. at 595. 37. See E. T. COOKE, A SUBALTERN’S FURLOUGH: DESCRIPTIVE OF SCENES IN THE UNITED STATES, UPPER AND LOWER CANADA, NEW BRUNSWICK, AND NOVA SCOTIA, DURING THE SUMMER AND AUTUMN OF McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 613 was born in 1802 in England, moved with his family to Ohio in his youth, and by the mid-1820s had established himself as a landscape painter. 38 He was one of the most famous and earliest of the landscape painters of the nineteenth century. In Notch, there is a scene of a rider on a horse following a road towards a house; a cut stump is in the foreground. This picture confirms the reach of property that Ralph Waldo Emerson spoke of in his address The Conservative: “I find this vast network, which you call property, extended over the whole planet. I cannot occupy the bleakest crag of the White Hills or the Allegheny Range, but some man or corporation steps up to me to show me that it is his.” 39 Property had extended its reach far indeed. Image 3 Thomas Cole, Notch of the White Mountains (1839) Reproduced with permission of National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC. Andrew W. Mellon Fund. 1832 (1833); 1 CHARLES LYELL, A SECOND VISIT TO THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA 56-70 (2d. ed. 1850) (discussing testate and intestate distribution of property); N. P. WILLIS, AMERICAN SCENERY 132 (1840) (discussing the discovery of “the Notch” by Nash and Sawyer). 38. See Christine Stansell & Sean Wilentz, Cole’s America, in THOMAS COLE: LANDSCAPE INTO HISTORY 3, 3-21 (William H. Truettner & Alan Wallach eds., 1994); Alan Wallach, Thomas Cole: Landscape and the Course of American Empire, in THOMAS COLE: LANDSCAPE INTO HISTORY, supra, at 23-111; ELLWOOD C. PARRY III, THE ART OF THOMAS COLE: AMBITION AND IMAGINATION 21-27 (1988); BARBARA NOVAK, NATURE AND CULTURE: AMERICAN LANDSCAPE AND PAINTING, 1825-1875, at 9-10 (1980). 39. RALPH WALDO EMERSON, The Conservative, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 239, 249. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 614 The Notch was made famous by a landslide in August 1826 that—most tragically—killed the Willey family who lived in a house there. 40 As the landslide approached, the family and a guest fled from the house. They were caught up in the slide and killed; the home, however, was untouched by the landslide. The next morning, as rescuers arrived, they found a bible open on the table and a candle burned down to its base. This was passed down in New England folklore for decades. For example, a ballad by T.W. Parsons recalled how rescuers became hopeful when, upon arrival, they saw that the Willey House was still standing. Of course, that hope turned out to be unwarranted, as they soon discovered: That avalanche of stones and sand, Remembering mercy in its wrath, Had parted, and on either hand Pursued the ruin of its path. And there, upon its pleasant slope, The cottage, like a sunny isle That wake the shipwrecked seaman’s hope Amid that horror seemed to smile. And still upon the lawn before, The peaceful sheep were nibbling nigh; But Farmer Willey at his door Stood not to count them with his eye. And in the dwelling—oh despair! The silent room! the vacant bed! The children’s little shoes were there— But whither were the children fled? 41 40. See W. WILLIAMS, APPLETONS’ RAILROAD AND STEAMBOAT COMPANION 56 (1849) (“Nearly in range of the house, a slide from the extreme point of the westerly hill came down in a deep mass to within about five rods of the dwelling, where its course appears to have been checked by a large block of granite, which backed the rolling mass for a moment until it separated into two streams, one of which rushed down to the north end of the house, crushing the barn, and spreading itself over the meadow. . . . The house remained untouched, though large stones and trunks of trees made fearful approaches to its walls; and the moving mass, which separated behind the building, again united in its front! The house alone, the only spot untouched by the crumbling and consuming power of the storm, could have been their refuge from the horrible uproar around.”). 41. THOMAS STARR KING, THE WHITE HILLS: THEIR LEGENDS, LANDSCAPE, AND POETRY 201 (Boston, Crosby & Ainsworth 1866); see also BENJAMIN G. WILLEY, INCIDENTS IN WHITE MOUNTAIN HISTORY 110 (Boston, Nathaniel Noyes 1858). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 615 Historian Angela Miller suggests that the preservation of the house amidst the rubble hinted at the divinity of property. Not even nature would touch it— though many cases of fire and eminent domain told a different story in those years. 42 Cole visited the Notch in the late 1820s, shortly after the slide, and then painted The Notch of the White Mountains in 1839. There is a common language and mode of thinking among the landscape painters and other culture bearers of the mid-nineteenth century, such as lawyers, judges, and academics: they wrote of a constellation of ideas, of nature, of humans, of democracy, property, and progress. 43 And we can see the human divisions of property in their paintings. Image 4 Thomas Cole, Oxbow (1836) Reproduced with permission of Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY. 42. ANGELA MILLER, THE EMPIRE OF THE EYE: LANDSCAPE REPRESENTATION AND AMERICAN CULTURAL POLITICS, 1825-1875, at 154 (1993). This Article draws heavily upon Miller’s ideas and structure, as it moves from her linking of art with political and cultural ideas to linking of art with legal ideas. 43. See generally ALBERT BOIME, THE MAGISTERIAL GAZE: MANIFEST DESTINY AND AMERICAN LANDSCAPE PAINTING C. 1830-1865 (1991); MILLER, supra note 42; NOVAK, supra note 38; William Cronon, Telling Tales on Canvas: Landscapes of Frontier Change, in DISCOVERED LANDS, INVENTED PASTS: TRANSFORMING VISIONS OF THE AMERICAN WEST 37 (1992). If we seek to understand antebellum legal thought, then it is important to look around to all sorts of cultural data, including speeches lawyers and judges gave and even the art their times produced. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 616 And we can see the human divisions of property in their paintings. In the vista of The Oxbow (image 4), which is also known as “View from Mount Holyoke, Northampton, Massachusetts, After a Storm,” Cole shows the move from wild nature at the left through civilization on the right. Well below the vantage are well-ordered fields, orchards, and roads. The property lines are visible on the canvas. All this is evidence of humans’ subduing of nature, of their improvement upon it, and of the advance of civilization. For, as Cole told a lyceum audience, the cultivated scenery is still more important [than the natural] to man in his social capacity— necessarily bringing him in contract with the cultured; it encompasses our homes, and, though devoid of the stern sublimity of the wild, its quieter spirit steals tenderly into our bosoms mingled with a thousand domestic affections and heart-touching associations—human hands have wrought, and human deeds hallowed all around. 45 In America, Cole concluded, the scenes were not of the past but of the present and the future: Seated on a pleasant knoll, look down into the bosom of that secluded valley, begin with wooded hills—through those enamelled meadows and wide waving fields of grain, a silver stream winds lingeringly along— here, seeking the green shade of trees—there, glancing in the sunshine: on its banks are rural dwellings shaded by elms and garlanded by flowers—from yonder dark mass of foliage the village spire beams like a star. 46 In 1836, the same year that Oxbow appeared, Ralph Waldo Emerson published his first major work—a tiny volume called Nature, in which he provides evidence of the role of property and nature: The charming landscape which I saw this morning is indubitably made up of some twenty or thirty farms. Miller owns this field, Locke that, and Manning the woodland beyond. But none of them owns the landscape. There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all the parts, that is, the poet. This is the best part of these men’s farms, yet to this their warranty-deeds give no title. 47 45. Thomas Cole, Essay on American Scenery, 7 AM. MONTHLY MAG. 1, 3 (Jan. 1836). 46. Id. at 11-12; see also John Nagle, The Spiritual Value of Wilderness, 35 ENVIR. L. 956 (2005). 47. EMERSON, Nature, in NATURE, ADDRESS, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 15, 16; see also In re Pea Patch Island, 1 Wall. Jr. C.C. IX, 30 F. Cas. 1123, 1144 (1848) (“[New Jersey residents] erect their mansions upon [the Delaware River’s] margin, and contemplate, with the pride of ownership, the broad and beautiful expanse which gives to the landscape its crowning grace.”). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 617 Emerson embraces the language of property (warranty deeds) to talk about property and nature. We see in Oxbow that different people own the pieces; the poet or the painter owns the whole. But as we shall see later, perhaps those who can view the whole have ways of possessing it. Emerson’s hypothesis that one might own individual property but not the landscape was challenged, metaphorically anyway, by a character in Catharine Maria Sedgwick’s 1830 novel Clarence: Or, A Tale of Our Own Times, in which a suitor of a beautiful young woman purchased a Cole painting auctioned off for a bargain ($50). He then refused requests by others to see it, thus completing his possession of the image of the falls of Trenton. 48 Talk about commodification and possession of beauty! 49 Emerson recognized that such sentiments were common. Some wanted the whole earth and still more. Yonder sun in heaven you would pluck down from shining on the universe, and make him a property and privacy, if you could; and the moon and the north star you would quickly have occasion for in your closet and bed-chamber. What you do not want for use, you crave for ornament, and what your convenience could spare, your pride cannot. 50 It was, indeed, the age of acquisition, of commerce, and of the market. 48. Fifty dollars might be a fair price for a landscape painting. See Rose v. Thompson, 17 Ala. 628 (1850) (affirming an order of a justice court that a painter be paid $50 for a landscape he painted for the defendant). And at other times, landscapes became the subject of lawsuits, such as when a testator gave away two landscape paintings in Walsh v. Mathews, 11 Mo. 131 (1847). They were sometimes the subject of a bequest at death. See, e.g., Pinckney v. Pinckney, 2 S.C. Eq. (2 Rich. Eq.) 218 (1846) (gift of a Rubens painting). And sometimes paintings were the subject of mortgages. See, e.g., Runyon v. Groshon, 12 N.J. Eq. 86 (1858) (finding that Rembrandt Lockwood used his painting Last Judgment to secure a loan for $300 and upon his failure to repay the loan, the creditor was entitled to take title to the painting; the painting is now in the Newark Museum of Art in New Jersey). At other times, the title of a painting was obscured by time. See, e.g., Laguna v. Acoma, 1 N.M. 220 (1857) (disputing title of painting in the possession of the pueblo of Acoma). Another case described Laguna as providing protection to the pueblo: However much the philosopher or more enlightened Christian may smile at the simple faith of this people in their supposed immediate and entire guardian of the pueblo, to them it was a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day, the withdrawal of whose light and shade crushed the hopes of these sons of Montezuma, and left them victims to doubt, to gloom, and to fear. The cherished object of the veneration of their long line of ancestry, this court permanently restores, and by this decree confirms to them, and throws around them the shield of the law’s protection in their enjoyment of their religious love, piety, and confidence. De la O v. Acoma, 1 N.M. 226, 237-38 (1857). 49. In other ways, paintings were commodities as well. They were distributed by lot by the American Art Union, which was a violation of the New York law against lotteries. See People v. The Am. Art Union, 7 N.Y. 240 (1852); People v. The Am. Art Union, 13 Barb. 577. (N.Y. 1852). 50. EMERSON, The Conservative, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 239, 250. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 618 Others in that romantic age besides Emerson also wondered how a person could “own” nature. Thomas Jefferson described the Natural Bridge in western Virginia in his Notes on the State of Virginia: The Natural Bridge, the most sublime of Nature’s works, . . . must not be pretermitted. It is on the ascent of a hill, which seems to have been cloven through its length by some great convulsion. . . . Though the sides of this bridge are provided in some parts with a parapet of fixed rocks, yet few men have resolution to walk to them and look over into the abyss. . . . It is impossible for the emotions arising from the sublime to be felt beyond what they are here: so beautiful an arch, so elevated, so light, and springing as it were up to heaven, the rapture of the spectator is really indescribable. 51 In fact, Jefferson had already purchased the land on which the bridge stood in 1774. Jefferson wrote in 1815 that he viewed the bridge as a public trust: “I view it in some degree as a public trust, and would on no consideration permit the bridge to be injured, defaced, or masked from public view.” 52 But in the late 1840s, because of a lawsuit, the property was up for auction. This led one romantic Virginian, John Rueben Thompson, editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, to wonder how the property could be sold. He wrote of the sublime beauty of the bridge: [W]e confess we were greatly surprised to learn that the Natural Bridge was to be sold. Such a thing had never occurred to us. Somehow—we know not how—we had taken up the idea that it belonged to nobody, that it was a sort of nullius status, that it was indeed incapable of transfer from one person to another. . . . If we had looked upon it as property at all, we should have rather considered it an “incorporeal hereditament” as affecting the imagination, and we should as soon have thought of buying a rainbow or a sunset, evanescent as they are, as becoming the owner of the Natural Bridge. The magnificent phenomena of nature everywhere— Alps, torrents, cataracts, illimitable prairies,—seem to us in their eternal grandeur to mock the efforts of man to reduce them into possession. . . . At what value should such a bridge be held? In ordinary structures of this description, the value bears some proportion to the cost of building. But he who should sit down, with card and pencil, to estimate the cost of putting up another Natural Bridge, would be apt, we think, to find the task a pons asinorum. 53 51. THOMAS JEFFERSON, NOTES ON THE STATE OF VIRGINIA 22-23 (Richmond, J.W. Randolph 1853) (1787). 52. Letter from Thomas Jefferson to William Caruthers (Mar. 15, 1815) (on file with author). 53. John R. Thompson, Advertisement Extraordinary, 15 S. LITERARY MESSENGER 664-65 (Nov. 1849). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 619 Perhaps Frederic Church’s 1852 painting Natural Bridge should be viewed alongside John Reuben Thompson’s poem deriding the sale of the Natural Bridge: A SALE! A sale! Earth’s proudest things are daily bought and sold, And art and nature coincide in bowing down to gold, Alas! at such a sale as this, sad thoughts within us rise Until the Bridge becomes to us a very Bridge of Sighs. Ho! citizens of Lexington, ho! Keepers of the Springs, To whom the Bridge a revenue in transient travel brings, Rebuke the cruel auctioneer with your severest frown, Before in his destructiveness he seeks to knock it down! . . . . The earth is full of stately works of monumental pride— The famed Rialto thrown above the dark Venetian tide— And pyramids and obelisks of ages passed away— And friezes of Pentelicus majestic in decay:— But arches, domes, colossal piles, that human skill has wrought, All, all, when in comparison with thy proportions brought, Are fleeting as the palaces fantastically vain, That Russian monarchs rear in ice on Neva’s frozen plain! A Saxon priest once stood beneath the Coliseum’s wall, And augured that the globe itself should topple with its fall! Oh when this mighty arch of stone shall from its base be hurled An elemental war shall work the ruin of the world! 54 Thompson, like other romantics, praised nature instead of human constructions. Yet, like many other southern intellectuals, Thompson also supported slavery. 55 The connection between romanticism and slavery is strange, to say the least, as were Americans’ attitudes toward property. 54. Id. at 665-66. 55. See PETER S. CARMICHAEL, THE LAST GENERATION: YOUNG VIRGINIANS IN PEACE, WAR, AND REUNION (2005) (discussing combination of ideas of romanticism and progress). MICHAEL O’BRIEN’S CONJECTURES OF ORDER: INTELLECTUAL LIFE AND THE AMERICAN SOUTH, 1810-1860 (2004) similarly emphasizes romanticism in the slaveholding south. A generation ago Perry Miller linked landscape artists and romanticism, though slavery was not so much a piece of Miller’s account of the antebellum mind. He linked landscape painters and many others: The Sublime and the Heart! That they should, so to speak, find each other out and become, in the passions of the Revival, partners—this is a basic condition of the mass civilization of the nation. That the religious, dedicated to the immediate tasks before them, did not see all the implications in this union, which the Hudson River painters, Cooper, Melville, and Whitman later explored, simply underscores the truism that these artists were as much children of the age as Charles Finney. MILLER, supra note 10, at 65. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 620 IV. LINKING PROPERTY LAW TO LANDSCAPE ART This brings me to two points. First, that landscape art reflects the values of Americans, and we can see in the images much of Americans’ love for property. We can read these texts for ideas about property. 56 From adverse possession, nuisance, mistaken improver, and landlord-tenant law, to vested rights, landscape art can help us understand American property law of the time. 57 We can also use it to understand more abstract ideas, like the centrality of property law in the advance of civilization—making it possible to purchase rights from the crown, secure society against upheaval, and facilitate commerce and industry. Thus, we have additional evidence of how central property was, from voting rights and vested rights, to the evolution of common law property rights. There are, moreover, tensions here between law (in this case property law) and nature, even as many celebrated the role of property rights in assisting the advance of civilization. Many landscape artists, like Cole, expressed ambivalence about the utilitarian spirit of the age. Second—and more speculatively—landscape art may have helped propagate those values and helped create a ferment for economic and legal change. 58 56. Antebellum Americans understood that paintings could convey ideas and sentiments. Thus, paintings were subject to regulation in some cases, just as was print. A painting might be a libel. See Commonwealth v. Blanding, 20 Mass. (3 Pick.) 304, 313 (1825) (“[T]he common law has put a check upon the licentiousness of the press, and the expression of opinion by writing, painting, etc. when the effect and object is to blacken the character of any one, or to disturb his comfort . . . .”). It might also be obscene. See Commonwealth v. Sharpless, 2 Serg. & Rawle 91 (Pa. 1815) (prosecution for exhibition “for money, to persons to the inquest aforesaid unknown, a certain lewd, wicked, scandalous, infamous and obscene painting, representing a man in an obscene, impudent and indecent posture with a woman”). Paintings could also serve as evidence in a case. Thus, a portrait painting was used to establish family connections. See Emerson v. White, 29 N.H. 482, 490 (1854). Moreover, judges recognized the place that paintings might have in elevating society. In a case involving the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts’ request for exemption from taxation, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court acknowledged It is true that the arts of painting and sculpture are refining and elevating in their tendencies. They advance the fame and fortunes of all who are qualified for the beautiful creations which belong to them. Like the kindred arts of poetry and music, they furnish “a joy for ever” to those whose tastes invite, and whose circumstances permit them to drink at the Castalian fountain. Pa. Acad. of Fine Arts v. Phila. County, 22 Pa. 496, 499 (1854). Still, the court held that the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts was not a trade school for purposes of exemption from taxation. Id. 57. See Claire Priest, Creating an American Property Law: Alienability and its Limits in American History, 120 HARV. L. REV. 385 (2006) (discussing the changes in property doctrine that run parallel to the changes here). 58. This Article is, thus, part of a much larger movement in legal history that seeks to connect law to the culture that surrounds it. See, e.g., DANIEL J. BOORSTIN, THE MYSTERIOUS SCIENCE OF THE LAW: AN ESSAY ON BLACKSTONE’S COMMENTARIES (1941). Many of the contradictory tendencies that Boorstin identified in mid- eighteenth century England were resolved in America by the early nineteenth century, so that one looking to the leading early American legal treatise, Kent’s Commentaries, is tempted to speak of the understandable science of the law. And even followers of Blackstone in early America, such as St. George Tucker and Hugh Henry Brackenridge, were more concerned with the understandable aspects of law than its mysteries. In addition to Brackenridge’s Law Miscellanies, his Modern Chivalry provides a distillation of ideas about law and culture that helps systematize American law. See H. H. CRACKENRIDGE, MODERN CHIVALRY, OR THE ADVENTURES OF McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 621 One of the key ideas of the Antebellum Era was a belief in divinely inspired progress. It was an era in which Americans told themselves that they were on a divinely sanctioned mission. That mission linked the market and law with the course of subduing nature. John Frederick Kensett, in Beacon Rock in Newport, used Rhode Island’s harbor as one representation of that mission. Beacons had a religious significance. 59 In the beacon we get the imagery of the community setting a fire to warn of danger and provide guidance. 60 In the law of beacons we see the community’s obligation to protect. 61 CAPTAIN FARRAGO AND TEAGUE O’REGAN (Philadelphia, Carey & Hart 1846) (1804). 59. MILLER, supra note 42, at 176 (discussing Frederic Church’s 1851 painting Beacon off Mount Desert and linking it to Puritan imagery of New England as a beacon). 60. See, e.g., ICHABOD BARTLETT, SPEECH OF MR. BARTLETT OF NEW-HAMP. ON THE PROPOSITION TO AMEND THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES 28 (1826) (“We are reminded that our fathers here kindled the beacon of liberty, while our foes still predict that it is but the transient flash of a meteor, soon to leave the world in deeper gloom.”). Benjamin Watkins Leigh used beacon in both meanings in 1824 as he opposed the extension of suffrage in Virginia. He urged the examination of the “experiments that have been made of universal suffrage; and verily believe, that the inquiry will result in the undoubting opinion, that the example of other states is a beacon to warn, not a guide to direct.” WATKINS LEIGH, SUBSTITUTE INTENDED TO BE OFFERED TO THE NEXT MEETING OF THE CITIZENS OF RICHMOND, ON THE SUBJECT OF A CONVENTION IN LIEU OF THE REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE 22 (Richmond, Shepherd & Pollard 1824); see also JAMES T. AUSTIN, AN ORATION, DELIVERED ON THE FOURTH OF JULY, 1829, AT THE CELEBRATION OF AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE, IN THE CITY OF BOSTON 18 (Boston, John H. Eastbern 1829) (“The Senate of the United States, intended to stand like an island among the waves and throw its beacon light of safety over their angry surges, is itself but a vessel on the same ocean, driven by all the impulses that move the elements about it.”). 61. Beacons were seen as central to the community’s well-being, so that the erection of beacons was a charitable purpose. See MaGill v. Brown, 16 F. Cas. 408, 432 (E.D. Pa. 1833) (No. 8,952) (listing trusts for the erection of beacons, bridges, and repair of highways as satisfying the requirements of charitable purpose). Counsel for a railroad analogized in the Connecticut Supreme Court the charter of a railroad to the legislature’s power and duty to construct beacons to protect the community. See Bridgeport v. Housatonuc R.R. Co., 15 Conn. 475 (1843) (“[I]t is the peculiar duty of the legislature to protect the interests of each portion of the state. If it should consider the construction of a rail-road necessary for this purpose, it would have the right to direct it to be built, as well as to construct light-houses, beacons, [etc.].”). The James River Canal Company was required to place beacons for the benefit of people using the Kanawha river. See James River & Kanawha Co. v. Early, 54 Va. (13 Gratt.) 541 (1856). Moreover, towns were sometimes required to place beacons to guide travelers away from hazardous conditions on land. See Kimball v. Bath, 38 Me. 219, 221-22 (1854) (“Towns are not only authorized, but required by law to repair their public ways, including streets and side-walks, so that they may be safe and convenient for those who may have occasion to pass and repass upon them. . . . But while, for the purpose of repairs, they may thus break up and temporarily obstruct the passage over their public ways and side-walks, they are not authorized to leave their streets or side-walks, while undergoing repairs, in such a condition as unnecessarily to expose those who may pass upon them to inconvenience or danger. At such times, ways should not be left during the night without some temporary railing, or other means of protection, or some beacon to warn passengers against such uncommon danger. By neglecting to adopt such reasonable precautionary measures for the safety of citizens and travelers, towns are equally culpable, and as liable as they are when their ways are permitted to become unsafe from want of repairs. Any other rule would enable negligent or vicious town officers to set pit-falls for the unwary, with impunity.”). Still, failure to follow a beacon—even when a pilot used the utmost care—was no defense to a cause of action for loss of a ship. See McArthur & Hurlbert v. Sears, 21 Wend. 190 (N.Y. 1839). Indeed, beacons were part of a close to strict liability regime in early America. Precedent, of course, could also serve as a beacon: A legal principle, to be well settled, must be founded on sound reason, and tend to the purposes of justice. . . . Otherwise, it could never be said, that law is the perfection of reason, and that it is the reason and justice of the law which give to it its vitality. When we consider the thousands of cases to be pointed out in the English and American books of reports, which have been overruled, doubted, 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 622 Let us start with some of the evidence of property ownership and the ways land is used in this art—specifically, the divisions of the land, including fences. In his Lecture on the Times, Emerson discussed how the attack on institutions such as marriage had turned into an attack on property as well: Grimly the same spirit looks into the law of Property, and accuses men of driving a trade in the great boundless providence which had given the air, the water, and the land to men, to use and not to fence in and monopolize. It casts its eye on Trade, and Day Labor, and so it goes up and down, paving the earth with eyes, destroying privacy, and making or limited in their application, we can appreciate the remark of Chancellor Kent in his Commentaries, vol. 1, page 477, that “even a series of decisions are not always evidence of what the law is.” Precedents are to be regarded as the great storehouse of experience; not always to be followed, but to be looked to as beacon lights in the progress of judicial investigation, which, although, at times, they may be liable to conduct us to the paths of error, yet, may be important aids in lighting our footsteps in the road to truth. Leavitt v. Morrow, 6 Ohio St. 71, 78 (1856). The beacon might also warn of danger. See Williamson v. Beckham, 35 Va. (8 Leigh) 20, 24 (1837) (“The decisions of the English judges are not binding upon us; and where those decisions are opposed to their own reason and judgment, we should look upon them rather as beacons to warn us from danger, than as land marks to guide us in our path.”). But precedent was not to be the only beacon, for antebellum recognized that progress occurred through following the guidance of precedent and from reconciling precedent to the political principles of the United States. The Ohio Supreme Court confronted this in Bank of Toledo v. Toledo, 1 Ohio St. 622 (1853): I would not be understood as repudiating the aid of precedents, which are properly regarded as the great storehouse of experience, not always to be followed, but to be viewed as beacon lights in the progress of judicial investigation, which, if they do not prove deceptive and conduct us to the paths of error, may light our footsteps in the road to truth. Lessons of wisdom are to be extracted from the errors as well as the rightful judgments of mankind; while the one admonishes and warns, the other stands forth for imitation and adoption. Had precedent alone been consulted and followed, the great reforms in the progress of mankind would never have been adopted. Id. at 630-31. In claiming that a trust to transport slaves to Africa and free them should not be enforced in Mississippi, counsel in Ross v. Vertner argued that North Carolina precedent—holding that the slaves could not be freed—provided a clear beacon: View it as you may, turn it as you will, twist it as you please, still in principle it covers the sole and only question before the court. That opinion was a just exposition of the laws and policy of the state, and must stand the test of scrutiny, and of time; a beacon pointing to a just interpretation of the laws and policy of the state, on the subject of domestic slavery. Boss v. Vertner, 6 Miss. (5 Howard) 305 (1840). Nevertheless, the Mississippi Supreme Court enforced the trust because the slaves would not return to Mississippi. In the antebellum mind, which reified so much, precedent might be both a landmark and a beacon. See Broaddus v. Turner, 26 Va. (5 Rand.) 308 (1827) (“[I]t is wonderful to me, that these substantial beacons and landmarks, (to say nothing of the consideration that estates tail cannot be created, and ought not therefore to be inferred, unless that is unavoidable,) should not be looked to, instead of supposing things that the testator evidently never thought of.”). Cf. Hart v. Burnett, 15 Cal. 530, 601 (1860) (“If judicial decisions were to be lightly disregarded, we should disturb and unsettle the great landmarks of property. When a rule has been once deliberately adopted and declared, it ought not to be disturbed, unless by a Court of appeal or review, and never by the same Court, except for very cogent reasons, and upon a clear manifestation of error; and if the practice were otherwise, it would be leaving us in a state of perplexing uncertainty as to the law.”) (quoting 1 KENT’S COMMENTARIES 476); Hubbard v. Beckwith, 4 Ky. (1 Bibb) 492, 492 (1809) (“But, as judges, we must decide by the law, not make it; and we cannot break through the rules, and remove the landmarks which for ages have discriminated the remedies by action, to get at that which, not looking through the medium of the law, might appear to be just.”). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 623 thorough lights. Is all this for nothing? Do you suppose that the reforms, which are preparing, will be as superficial as those we know? 62 We see those divisions of the land in such paintings as Jonathan Fisher’s View of Blue Hill Maine, (image 5) which depicts the town where Reverend Fisher lived. It is a well-ordered landscape, with fenced fields and rows of crops, amidst finely crafted houses and buildings. More of these divisions appear in Jasper Frederick Cropsey’s American Harvesting (1851) (image 6), in which the scene is divided into wild nature on one side of a fence and a cultivated field yielding the harvest on the other. At the time, fences were important because they defined private property; humans and animals had a general right to cross any rural property that was unfenced. 63 62. EMERSON, Lecture on the Times, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 211, 222-23 (stating that thorough-lights are windows on opposite sides of a house). Emerson the transcendentalist was more enamored of nature and celebrated humans’ connections to it more than did many of his contemporaries. Where they saw nature as something to be taken, harnessed, and turned to a money-making function, Emerson was more circumspect. He worried about the reduction of everything to a commodity, as did some painters. Religion was not invited to eat or drink or sleep with us, or to make or divide an estate, but was a holiday guest. Such omissions judge the church; as the compromise made with the slaveholder, not much noticed at first, every day appears more flagrant mischief to the American constitution. But now the purists are looking into all these matters. The more intelligent are growing uneasy on the subject of Marriage. They wish to see the character represented also in that covenant. There shall be nothing brutal in it, but it shall honor the man and the woman as much as the most diffusive and universal action. Id. at 222. 63. ERIC T. FREYFOGLE, ON PRIVATE PROPERTY: FINDING COMMON GROUND ON THE OWNERSHIP OF LAND 29-60 (2007) (discussing the “lost right to roam”); William W. Fisher, The Law of the Land: An Intellectual History of American Property Doctrine, 1776-1876, at 141 (1991) (Ph.D. dissertation, Harvard University) (on file with the McGeorge Law Review) (discussing southern states’ preference for open range and northern states’ preference for closed range). In antebellum America, livestock and hunters had the customary right to cross land that was not fenced. Of course, this was modified by statute in some places, which is what led to the conflict between Natty Bumppo and Judge Marmaduke Temple in The Pioneers. Freyfogle cites Nashville & Chattanooga Railroad Co. v. Peacock, 25 Ala. 229 (1854); Macon & Western Railroad Co. v. Lester, 30 Ga. 911 (1860); and Vicksburg & Jackson Railroad Co. v. Patton, 31 Miss. 156 (1856). Cropsey’s 1850 painting, Bareford Mountains, West Milford, New Jersey, now at the Brooklyn Museum offers a similar depiction, with a fence at the center of the landscape. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 624 Image 5 Jonathan Fisher, View of the Blue Hill, Maine (circa 1824) Reproduced with permission of Gulf Sates Paper Corporation, Tuscaloosa, AL. Property of the Westervelt Company and displayed in the Westervelt-Warner Museum of American Art in Tuscaloosa, AL. Image 6 Jasper Frederick Cropsey, American Harvesting (1851) Reproduced with permission of Indiana University Art Museum, Bloomington, IN. Gift of Mrs. Nicholas H. Noyes. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 625 It is not just human structures, such as houses, fences, or roads, that appear in the landscapes—machines appear as well. In Elihu Vedder’s 1857 Landscape with Sheep and Old Well, we see a well in the middle of a field—a sign of industry. Vedder’s painting was once owned by Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts, a founder of the Republican Party, whose ideology included both anti-slavery and emphasis on development of the market. Industry sometimes appeared on the landscape in literature are well. The hero in Herman Melville’s short story “Tartarus of Maids” heard the sound of industry in nature. He was in the seed business, so he used an extraordinary amount of paper, often as envelops for the seeds. He went in search of a paper-mill so that he might purchase paper more cheaply. The hero went on a sleigh during the winter in search of the mill and got lost in a valley. “The whole hollow gleamed with the white, except, here and there, where a pinnacle of granite showed one wind-swept angle bare. The mountains stood pinned in shrouds—a pass of Alpine corpses. Where stands the mill?” Then, he heard it. “Suddenly a whirling, humming sound broke upon my ear. I looked, and there, like an arrested avalanche, lay the large whitewashed factory.” 64 64. Herman Melville, The Paradise of Bachelors and the Tartarus of Maids, 10 HARPERS 670, 674 (1855). I learned of this story from Leo Marx, The Machine in the Garden 15 (1963). In describing a tort case brought by a young man who had lost a leg in an accident with a steam-powered paper mill in the 1830s, the Tennessee Supreme Court painted a picture of a very dangerous machine—one that a prudent owner would have tried to enclose, so that it would be safer: The injury occurred in this way: The defendants were owners of a paper-mill in Nashville, on Water street, on the bank of Cumberland river, the machinery of which was propelled by steam. Connected with the mill, machinery had been constructed to draw up wood from the river, on a truck. This consisted of a shaft, proceeding from the engine-room of the mill, and extending through the wall of the mill-house. On the end of this shaft, and outside of the wall, some eight or ten inches, was fixed a cog-wheel, about twenty-six inches in diameter, which was geared in another cog-wheel, for the purpose of moving the truck. The wheels revolved from ten to twenty inches from the ground, and worked upwards and outwards. They were about twenty feet from the street, in an open space, entirely exposed without any cover, guard, or enclosure whatever. Whirley v. Whiteman, 38 Tenn. (1 Head) 610, 614 (1858). The machines that look so natural in the landscape paintings certainly had the power to destroy as well as create progress. In Wells v. Chapman, 13 Barb. 561, 561 (N.Y. Sup. 1852), Judge Roosevelt of the New York Supreme Court found that an easement for supply of water, which had originally been granted for a paper mill, could not be expanded to supply a cotton mill. He did so by employing allusions to a romantic garden: [S]uppose a beautiful, picturesque country residence, with a romantic stream, constituting its most attractive feature, coursing through its woods and lawns. An adjacent owner, not thus favored desirous of remedying by art the defect of nature, applies to his neighbor for leave to construct a canal, in the form of a mimic rivulet, to supply a fountain, throwing up its graceful jets, in view of the owners and visitors of both places. Having obtained a grant, in accordance with his wishes, he subsequently, in a moment of neighborly passion, (not an unusual disturber of rural felicity,) converts the cooling fountain, so pleasant to the eye and harmonious to the ear, into an unsightly, hissing steam engine. Would there be no remedy for such a wrong? Id. Judge Roosevelt concluded that the owner of the beautiful garden could cut off the water to his neighbor: The law respects the rights of parties, in matters of taste and imagination, as well as in matters of profit. It stays the wrongful destruction of ornamental trees, as well as the wrongful consumption of mere firewood. There may be injuries too fanciful for its jurisdiction; but that is no reason why it should not interfere in any case, where the rights of a refined and cultivated taste are violated. Here, 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 626 Others had similar experiences to Melville’s fictional traveler who became lost in the wilderness; for, while traveling there was much to look at. The landscape painter Charles Lanman recalls the scenes of humans and their animals on the land. During a journey through New England, he gets lost in thought about the appearance of the landscape surrounding him: My thoughts were upon the earth once more, and my feet upon a hill out of the woods, whence might be seen the long broad valley of the Amonoosack, melting into that of the Connecticut. Long and intently did I gaze upon the landscape, with its unnumbered farm-houses, reposing in the sunlight, and surmounted by pyramids of light blue smoke, and also upon the cattle gazing on a thousand hills. Presently I heard the rattling wheels of the stage-coach;—one more look over the charming valley,— and I was in my seat beside the coachman. 65 In fact, that jumbled scene—populated with people and their fields, buildings, roads, bridges, even mills—appears in Frederick Church’s 1851 New England Scenery. It is a busy canvass. There is a bridge with a covered wagon, a mill with a waterwheel, and a town with a church in the background. In short, the industrial and economic revolution appears on the canvas. The economic revolution depicted on the canvass runs parallel to the legal world, with its preferential treatment of the use of property for economically efficient uses of the land. The mill in Church’s landscape reminds us of the centrality of the mill to antebellum property disputes and then later to property legislation. Problems arose when mill owners built dams to generate power by increasing the vertical drop in water at their mill. The dams flooded neighbors’ property and, in short order, led to nuisance and trespass suits by those neighbors. To limit the damage judgements against the mill owners, mill acts were enacted that gave owners the right to condemn neighbors’ property and, in effect, purchase a permanent right to flood. 66 Neighbors also sought to enjoin the operation of mills, often the owner of the water had a right to withhold a grant altogether. If he made one, then he had a right to impose conditions and restrictions on its use. There is nothing absurd in his confining the grant to a paper mill. He may have had very good reasons for so doing; they may have been substantial reasons of pecuniary advantage, or they may have been reasons, less real perhaps, but more elevated, of ideal association. It is not for the court to inquire into them. It is sufficient to know that he had a right to reserve, and that he did reserve, all his original ownership, except in the one particular of the use of the water for a paper mill. Id. 65. CHARLES LANMAN, LETTERS FROM A LANDSCAPE PAINTER 133 (Boston, James Munroe & Co. 1845). 66. See generally John F. Hart, Property Rights, Costs, and Welfare: Delaware Water Mill Legislation, 1719-1859, 27 J. LEGAL STUD. 455, 455-71 (1998); John F. Hart, Land Use Law in the Early Republic and the Original Meaning of the Takings Clause, 94 NW. U. L. REV. 1099, 1099-1156 (2000); John F. Hart, Colonial Land Use Law and Its Significance for Modern Takings Doctrine, 109 HARV. L. REV. 1252 (1996). Moreover, a New York Court rejected the argument that a damn is nuisance per se. Instead, the court reflected on the damns as evidence of civilization: McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 627 unsuccessfully. Courts recognized that some injuries were inevitable and minor; moreover, the benefits of the mill to the community often significantly outweighed the harm to individual neighbors. 67 As courts tried to reconcile the competing rights of neighbors to land, they realigned property rights between owners. Those realignments led to substantial conflict; often it was that industrial uses won out over older, more traditional rights. In other instances, the conflicts involved corporations seeking exclusive rights against members of the community. Some of the best known cases of [Damns] are sources of mechanical power, and tend to diffuse health and strength and comfort to large numbers of people. Reservoirs and collections of water by means of dams in the beds of running streams, for the purposes of manufactures and supplying cities and towns with water for public and domestic uses, are to be found every where throughout the state. They are ranked among the evidences of its civilization and progress in the useful arts. Rogers v. Barker, 31 Barb. 447 (N.Y. 1860). A subplot of John Pendleton Kennedy’s Swallow Barn, Or a Sojourn in the Old Dominion (New York, George P. Putnam revised ed. 1852) revolved around a lawsuit over a boundary line between the property of the owner of an old mill and his neighbor. Kennedy invoked the imagery of a bank to describe the problems with the mill, an illuminating invocation of commerce. See id. at 135 (“The mill-dam was like a bank that had paid out all its specie, and, consequently, could not bare the run made upon it by the big wheel, which, in turn, having lost its credit, stopped payment . . . .”). There was a certain public- spiritedness to the mill, which the narrator told about when he recalled how the mill was a reminder of his relative who built it: My grand uncle, very soon after the peace, was gathered to his fathers, and has left behind him a name, of which, as I have before remarked, the family are proud. Amongst the monuments which still exist to recall him to memory, I confess the old mill, to me, is not the least endearing. Its history has a whimsical bearing upon his character, illustrating his ardent, uncalculating zeal; his sanguine temperament; his public spirit; his odd perceptions; and that dash of comic, headstrong humorousness . . . . Id. at 143. Kennedy told how the constructor of the damn had purchased land from his neighbor so that he could create a large pool, though that led to a dispute over the boundary line between the property of the mill’s owner and his neighbor. Id. at 141-42, 242-44. In describing the broken-down mill, Kennedy invokes romantic imagery characteristic of the landscape painters: The ruin of the mill is still to be seen. Its roof has entirely disappeared; a part of the walls are yet standing, and the shaft of the great wheel, with one or two of the pinions attached, still lies across its appropriate bed. The spot is embowered with ancient beech trees, and forms a pleasant and serene picture of woodland quiet. The track of the race is to be traced by some obscure vestiges, and two mounds remain, showing the abutments of the dam. A range of light willows grows upon what I presume was once the edge of the mill-pond; but the intervening marsh presents now, as of old, its complicated thickets of water plants, amongst which the magnolia, at its accustomed season, exhibits its beautiful flower, and throws abroad its rich perfume. Id. at 142-43. 67. See, e.g., Wilder v. Strickland, 55 N.C. (2 Jones Eq.) 386 (1856). If upon such evidence as is offered by the plaintiffs, the courts will interfere to restrain the building of a mill, it must be built in a wilderness where there is no one to be injured, either in health or property; for it must needs be, that in a thickly settled neighborhood, some one must be injured in one way or the other. We are satisfied, too, from the testimony of the defendant, that not only is such a mill required by the necessities and convenience of the neighborhood, but a very large portion of it desires its erection. It is not every slight or doubtful injury, that will justify the Court in exerting [its] extraordinary power of injunction in restraining a man from using his property as his interest may demand, when the benefit of such use[] is mutual to the public and to the owner. Id. at 391. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 628 antebellum property rights involved the interpretation of corporate charters relating to bridges. Private companies spent considerable sums of money constructing bridges and hoped to recover their costs by charging fees to cross these bridges. Legislatures sometimes chartered other, competing bridges—or even built public bridges—which limited the profit to be made from the first bridge. Chief Justice Roger Taney’s 1837 opinion in Charles River Bridge v. Warren Bridge crystalized the conflict, which pitted claims of vested rights against the community’s rights. 68 Chancellor James Kent wrote an article in response highlighting the fear many Whigs felt for the security of property rights. 69 Kent used imagery of nature in describing what was happening: The Supreme Court “cast deep shadows over our fairest and proudest hopes.” The change in leadership on the Supreme Court from Chief Justice John Marshall to Chief Justice Roger Taney cast “a gathering gloom . . . over the future.” 70 “We seem to have sunk suddenly below the horizon, to have lost the light of the sun and to hold on our way. . . .” 71 Democrats, however, viewed the issues at stake in vested rights differently from Whigs like Chancellor James Kent. George Bancroft, who wrote Andrew Jackson’s second inaugural address, indicted adherents of vested rights in an oration on July 4, 1836. Bancroft spoke of the implications of the Whig interpretation of the Constitution as a compact between individuals and government. Bancroft attacked the foundation of vested rights in long-term use. A theory of vested rights, Bancroft said, “adduces no arguments in its support but from the musty archives of the past. Instead of saying, It is right, it says, It is established. It asserts an immortality for law, not for justice . . . .” 72 The idea of the inviolability of contracts “regards every injustice, once introduced into the compact, as sacred; a vested right that cannot be recalled; a contract that, however great may be the pressure, can never be cancelled. The [W]hig professes to cherish liberty, and he cherishes only his chartered franchises.” 73 Bancroft sought more flexibility in government and less veneration for vested rights. However, while there were key points of conflict, there was also great consensus in the value of property and in the ways that its protection led to the advancement of civilization in the United States. Property law helped to shape American character, as Daniel Webster explained in his 1820 oration at 68. 36 U.S. (11 Pet.) 420 (1837). 69. James Kent, Supreme Court of the United States, 2 N.Y. REV. 372, 385 (1838). 70. Id. 71. Id. 72. GEORGE BANCROFT, AN ORATION DELIVERED BEFORE THE DEMOCRACY OF SPRINGFIELD, AND NEIGHBORING TOWNS, JULY 4, 1836, at 6 (Springfield, George & Charles Merriam 1836). 73. Id. at 7. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 629 Plymouth, by encouraging wide distribution of property through elimination of the rule of primogeniture for intestate estates and the discouragement of entail: The character of their political institutions was determined by the fundamental laws respecting property. The laws rendered estates divisible among sons and daughters. The right of primogeniture, at first limited and curtailed, was afterwards abolished. The property was all freehold. The entailment of estates, long trusts, and the other processes for fettering and tying up inheritances, were not applicable to the condition of society, and seldom made use of. On the contrary, alienation of the land was every way facilitated, even to the subjecting of it to every species of debt. The establishment of public registries, and the simplicity of our forms of conveyance, have greatly facilitated the change of real estate from one proprietor to another. The consequence of all these causes has been a great subdivision of the soil, and a great equality of condition; the true basis, most certainly, of a popular government. 74 Webster saw equitable division of property as the key to the United States’ stability and progress. “‘If the people,’ says Harrington, ‘hold three parts in four of the territory, it is plain there can neither be any single person nor nobility able to dispute the government with them; in this case, therefore, except force be interposed, they govern themselves.’” 75 Webster saw these lessons confirmed in English history: It has been estimated, if I mistake not, that about the time of Henry the Seventh four fifths of the land in England was holden by the great barons and ecclesiastics. The effects of a growing commerce soon afterwards began to break in on this state of things, and before the Revolution, in 1688, a vast change had been wrought. It may be thought probabl[e], that, for the last half-century, the process of subdivision in England has been retarded, if not reversed; that the great weight of taxation has compelled many of the lesser freeholders to dispose of their estates, and to seek employment in the army and navy, in the professions of civil life, in commerce, or in the colonies. The effect of this on the British constitution cannot but be most unfavorable. A few large estates grow larger; but the number of those who have no estates also increases; and there may be danger, lest the inequality of property become so great, that those who possess it may be dispossessed by force; in other words, that the government may be overturned. 76 74. DANIEL WEBSTER, First Settlement of New England. A Discourse Delivered at Plymouth, on the 22d of December, 1824, in THE SPEECHES AND ORATIONS OF DANIEL WEBSTER 25, 44 (Edwin P. Whipple ed., 1914). 75. Id. 76. Id. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 630 However, property not only shaped our nation’s character, but it also provided power to democracy and to economic progress. The age was utilitarian and, according to many, it measured value by an idea or a person’s contribution to wealth. Some saw this in positive terms, others in negative terms. Silas Jones’ treatise Introduction to Legal Science—which the Southern Literary Messenger introduced to its readers with the observation that “[t]he spirit of the age is utilitarian in a high degree and we hail the publication of such useful and practical works, always with pleasure” 77 —identified the fact that property was widely diffused as one of the great virtues of the United States. “There should be neither great riches secured to the few, nor great poverty fastened upon the condition of the many. In these respects, no nation on earth was ever more happily situated than our own.” 78 Jones, drawing upon James Kent’s Commentaries, saw property as a central feature of human society and a key ingredient of civilization: “The sense of property,” says Chancellor Kent, “is inherent in the human breast, and the gradual enlargement and cultivation of that sense, from its feeble force in the savage state to its full vigor and maturity among polished nations, forms a very instructive portion of the history of civil society. Man was fitted and intended by the author of his being, for society and government, and for the acquisition and enjoyment of property. It is to speak correctly the law of his nature; and by obedience to this law he brings all his faculties into exercise, and is enabled to display the various and exalted powers of the human mind.” 79 Those sentiments of acquisition and use of property extended into the wilderness. We see in paintings, like Thomas Cole’s Daniel Boone at His Cabin at the Great Osage Lake (image 7) (a painting depicting the wilderness of Missouri), a place where humans carve out an existence amidst a wild nature. 80 77. Notices of New Works, Silas Jones, 8 S. LIT. MESSENGER 363 (1842). 78. SILAS JONES, AN INTRODUCTION TO LEGAL SCIENCE 44 (New York, John S. Voorhies 1842). 79. Id. at 166 (quoting 2 KENT, COMMENTARIES *318); see also E. P. HURLBUT, ESSAYS ON HUMAN RIGHTS AND THEIR POLITICAL GUARANTIES 63 (New York, Fowlers & Wells 1850). For further discussion of Kent’s discussion of property, see Charles J. Reid, Judicial Precedent in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries: A Commentary on Chancellor Kent’s Commentaries, 5 AVE MARIA L. REV. 47, 86 (2007). 80. See generally STEPHEN ARON, HOW THE WEST WAS LOST: THE TRANSFORMATION OF KENTUCKY FROM DANIEL BOONE TO HENRY CLAY 82-101 (1999) (discussing the “rules of law” in eighteenth and nineteenth century Kentucky). An Arkansas court held that people who used fire while hunting on open lands were not liable for the harm caused by the fire, for their hunting was not an illegal act. See Bizzell v. Booker, 16 Ark. 308 (1855). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 631 Image 7 Thomas Cole, Daniel Boone at His Cabin at the Great Osage Lake (circa 1826) Reproduced with permission of Meade Art Museum, Amherst College, Amherst, MA. As Americans pushed past the Allegheny Mountains, into Kentucky, in the early part of the nineteenth century, they faced an uncertain property recording system. Thus, settlers faced unpredictability in land titles, particularly in early Kentucky. At the time people began settling in Kentucky, records and surveying were both sufficiently unclear such that there was substantial uncertainty in land titles. As a result, a lot of people settled on land and began improving it, without certainty about whether they were actually the owner or if someone with a superior title might come along and oust them. The Kentucky Legislature addressed these problems with several statutes. One absolved those who mistakenly—though in good faith—occupied property owned by others from rent for the time they occupied the property. 81 Another, an 1812 statute, required claimants with superior title to land to pay those who were occupying it for the 81. See Green v. Biddle, 21 U.S. (8 Wheat.) 1, 4-5 (1823). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 632 value of the land, as well as the improvement. 82 These statutes, however, were challenged as an abrogation of the promise that Kentucky made to Virginia in 1789 to respect the private rights in land that had been ceded to Kentucky. One such challenge occurred in 1821, when the heirs of one claimant sued on the theory that the Kentucky statutes violated the compact between Kentucky and Virginia and that they interfered with the claimant’s property rights. Justice Story wrote an opinion in the case, Green v. Biddle, which upheld the right of the claimant over the statutes. 83 Justice Story’s opinion was subsequently withdrawn when the Court granted a motion for rehearing. 84 Next term, however, Justice Bushrod Washington again invalidated the statutes. 85 For Justice Washington, the principle was that original property rights ought to be secured. He accomplished this by invalidating Kentucky’s statutes that he saw as inconsistent with a contract between Virginia and Kentucky. In essence, the contract between Virginia and Kentucky was construed broadly to trump subsequent Kentucky legislation. Justice Johnson in dissent thought that broad reading of the states’ contract was inappropriate. He feared that in the name of upholding vested rights, Kentucky would be held to an unusual property regime. Why, Justice Johnson asked, should Kentucky be “forever chained down to a state of hopeless imbecility—embarrassed with a thousand minute discriminations drawn from the common law, refinements on mesne profits, set-offs, etc., appropriate to a state of society, and a state of property, having no analogy whatever to the actual state of things in Kentucky . . . [?]” 86 Johnson believed there might be a need to change Kentucky’s real property law to respect “the ever varying state of human things, which the necessities or improvements of society may require.” 87 The situation in Green v. Biddle was typical of the conflicts between properties’ prior owners and newer users of property. These conflicts appeared frequently in antebellum America and were exemplified in the continuing struggle between Whigs (formerly Federalists) and Democrats. When the issue appeared a decade later in Charles River Bridge, it was the Democratic position rather than the Federalist one that triumphed. 88 Yet, Green v. Biddle did not settle these issues. Courts and legislatures continued to struggle with mistaken improver legislation. When the Texas Supreme Court confronted similar issues in 1852, 89 it recalled the legislature’s 82. See id. at 5-6. 83. See WHITE, supra note 10, at 641-48 (discussing the decision of Green v. Biddle); Theodore W. Ruger, “A Question Which Convulses a Nation”: The Early Republic’s Greatest Debate About the Judicial Review Power, 117 HARV. L. REV. 827 (2004) (discussing Kentucky’s contest of Green v. Biddle). 84. See Green, 21 U.S. at 17-18. 85. See id. at 90-94. 86. Id. at 104 (Johnson, J., dissenting). 87. Id. 88. Alfred L. Brophy, “Necessity Knows No Law”: Vested Rights and the Styles of Reasoning in the Confederate Conscription Cases, 68 MISS. L.J. 1123 (1999) (discussing antebellum vested rights decisions, including Charles River Bridge, 36 U.S. (11 Pet.) 420 (1837)). 89. See Horton v. Crawford, 10 Tex. 382 (1853). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 633 policy to protect those whom they had encouraged to settle the land. It was through the settlers “alone [that] the soil could be cultivated, houses built, improvements made, and the wilderness reduced to civilization.” 90 Texas had two problems. First, questions about title to land and second, “the incursions of ferocious and hostile savages.” 91 The Court starkly concluded that the settlement of the frontiers especially could not advance unless there was some security that the lands conquered from savages and beasts of prey should become the property of the actual conqueror and settler of the soil, provided that if there were a claimant having equitable or legal title he should have a reasonable time to set up and establish his claim. 92 Claims of adverse possession invoked similar questions about preferences for prior owners, current occupiers, and users of the property. Adverse possession, however, raises even more significant questions about reassignment of rights than Kentucky’s mistaken improver legislation, as adverse possession can remove purchasers’ entire interest in their property. 93 Some courts responded to the potentially radical claims of adverse possession by expanding the evidence of what constituted use of property (and thus encouraging use of it) and by requiring a good faith claim to property. This strategy avoided giving squatters rights in property, for they knew they were not the owners of the property. 94 Boone proved a useful trope for artists and for those writing about the advance of civilization in the nineteenth century. George Caleb Bingham, like Thomas Cole before him, used Boone in his pictures. Bingham painted a scene of Boone leading settlers through the Cumberland Gap. Transylvania University 90. Id. at 389 (1853). 91. Id. 92. Id.; see also Emery v. Spencer, 23 Pa. 271 (1854) (“The actual settler has always been a favorite with the legislature and the Courts in Pennsylvania, and justly, for it is he who introduces civilization into the wilderness places; and an enabling statute which permits others to buy what he has not appropriated, would be grossly misapplied if construed to exclude his rights.”). Property law, moreover, encouraged the construction of towns in California by gathering settlers together. It was very natural that in founding the new pueblo, the inhabitants of the adjacent country should be called upon to assist in commencing a new settlement, and forming its municipal organization. . . . It was rather for the purpose of carrying out the general policy which had been pursued by Spain in her American dominions, and which is often alluded to in the instructions issued to the Governors of California, of inducing the scattered inhabitants of the country to unite and build up towns, as being more conducive to civilization, and as forming a better protection against the incursions of hostile Indians. Hart v. Burnett, 15 Cal. 530, 547 (1860). 93. John G. Sprankling addresses these doctrines over the entire course of American history in The Antiwilderness Bias in American Property Law, 63 U. CHI. L. REV. 519 (1996), and he locates the origins of the pro-development, anti-wilderness bias in the antebellum era. Id. at 530-37. He shows how antebellum adverse possession encouraged development of land in John G. Sprankling, An Environmental Critique of Adverse Possession, 79 CORNELL L. REV. 816, 841-49 (1994). 94. The rejection of squatters’ rights was itself part of getting control over law. Equity allowed good faith possessors to get clear title. Bad faith possessors were ousted and not permitted to further interfere with title. See Fisher, supra note 62, at 163, 178. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 634 Law Professor George Robertson’s lecture at Centre College in 1834 put that march through the wilderness into the context of progress. He marveled at the advance of civilization that Daniel Boone was a part of: Could Boone and Harrod and Logan—when, once this “land of blood,” they first trod in the tracks of the Indian and Buffalo[]—have dreamed that what we now behold in this smiling West, would so soon have succeeded their adventurous footsteps, how would such a vision have cheered them amidst the solitude and perils which they encountered in aiding to plant civilization in the wilderness! 95 Thomas Cole, too, noted how rapidly these changes occurred in his 1836 Lyceum address: A very few generations have passed away since this vast tract of the American continent, now the United States, rested in the shadow of primeval forests, whose gloom was peopled by savage beasts, and scarcely less savage men; or lay in those wide grassy plains called prairies— The Gardens of the Desert, these The unshorn fields, boundless and beautiful. And, although an enlightened and increasing people have broken in upon the solitude, and with activity and power wrought changes that seem magical, yet the most distinctive, and perhaps the most impressive, characteristic of American scenery is its wilderness. 96 There is a conflict in some of this art about the law and the progress made possible by it. David Gilmour Blythe provides a direct conflict between property law and art in his 1859 painting Art Versus Law (image 8). Here an artist is locked out of his studio in Pittsburgh and he is told “[f]or further information apply way downstairs,” a euphemism, perhaps, for “go to Hades.” 97 The studio is 95. GEORGE ROBERTSON, SCRAP BOOK ON LAW AND POLITICS, MEN AND TIMES 164 (Lexington, A.W. Elder 1855). Indeed, Robertson’s opinion in Maysville Turnpike turns on the private nature of a turnpike and thus denied the federal government the power to use a turnpike for the United States’ mail unless it paid the standard fare. These issues of public and private arose in many places. Id. at 364-74. An Arkansas court commented in 1855 that there was a legislative policy favoring settlement: The importance of, and the national and social advantages arising from, the opening, subduing and settlement of the uninhabited and wilderness districts of this country, and the hardships, deprivations and difficulties attending such settlements, have induced the policy of encouraging by legislation, the pioneer in the appropriation and occupancy of the public lands. Hamilton v. Fowlkes, 16 Ark. 340, 366 (1855). 96. Cole, supra note 44, at 4-5 (quoting WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, The Prairies, in WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, POEMS 50 (New York, Harper & Brothers, 6th ed. 1840)). 97. SARAH BURNS, PAINTING THE DARK SIDE: ART AND THE GOTHIC IMAGINATION IN NINETEENTH- CENTURY AMERICA 44 (2004). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 635 to be relet in accordance with a landlord-tenant statute. Image 8 David Gilmour Blythe, Art Versus Law (1859-60) Reproduced with permission of the Brooklyn Museum, Brooklyn, NY. V. THOMAS COLE AND THE AMBIVALENCE OF PROGRESS Indeed, much of Cole’s work—unlike some of the later landscape painters— expresses concern over the loss of nature, even as it records that loss as a central feature of the antebellum economy. Cole expressed skepticism about the progress. 98 The cut stumps that appear at various places in his art “like Notch of 98. Cole worried about the utilitarian sentiments of his age and opposed development in his 1841 Catskill Lyceum Address: 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 636 the White Mountains and Daniel Boone’s at His Cabin at the Great Osage Lake” suggest both human advancement over nature and the resulting losses. For Cole found much sadness in the cutting of trees. He wrote of this sadness in his 1834 poem, “On seeing that a favorite tree of the Author’s had been cut down” And is the glory of the forest dead? Struck down? Its beauteous foliage spread On the base earth? O! ruthless was the deed Destroying man! What demon urg’d the speed Of thine unpitying axe? Didst thou not know My heart was wounded by each savage blow? Could not the loveliness that did begird These boughs disarm thine hand and save the bird Its ancient home and me a lasting joy! Vain is my plaint! All that I love must die. But death sometimes leaves hope—friends may yet meet And life be fed on expectation sweet— But here no hope survives; again shall spread o’er me Never the gentle shade of my beloved tree— 99 This skepticism of progress was a concern that appeared in literature as well. That celebration of nature and America’s special place in it appeared in writings by William Cullen Bryant, such as his 1821 poem delivered to the Harvard Phi Beta Kappa Society, The Ages. It tells of the evolution of human society. There is the evolution from the stage where people “[b]anded, and watched their hamlets, and grew strong” and “[g]rave and time-wrinkled men, with locks all white, / Gave laws, and judged their strifes, and taught the way of right.” 100 Over time, the In this age when a meagre utilitarianism seems ready to absorb every feeling and sentiment, and what is called improvement, in its march, makes us fear that the bright and tender flowers of the imagination will be crushed beneath its iron tramp, it would be well to cultivate the oasis that yet remains to us, and to cherish the impressions that nature is ever ready to give, as an antidote to the sordid tendencies of modern civilization. The spirit of our society is to contrive and not to enjoy— toiling in order to produce more toil—accumulating in order to aggrandize. . . . . [W]here it is not NECESSARY to destroy a tree or a grove, the hand of the woodman should be checked, and even the consideration, which alas, weighs too heavily with us, of a few paltry dollars, should be held as nought in comparison with the pure and lasting pleasure that we enjoy, or ought to enjoy, in the objects which are among the most beautiful creations of the Almighty. Thomas Cole, Lecture on American Scenery: Originally Delivered before the Catskill Lyceum, April 1, 1841, 1 N. LIGHT 25, 25-26 (May 1841); see also Alan Wallach, Thomas Cole’s River in the Catskills as Antipastoral, 84 ART BULL. 334, 334-50 (June 2002). 99. THOMAS COLE’S POETRY: THE COLLECTED POEMS OF AMERICA’S FOREMOST PAINTER OF THE HUDSON RIVER SCHOOL 67 (Marshall B. Tymn ed., 1972). 100. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, The Ages, in WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, POEMS, supra note 95, at 17 (stanza 11). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 637 barbarians of Europe were overthrown 101 and in the west, hunters began to conquer the land. 102 And then came the description of life in the United States, where the Indians had lived and fought against the settlers. 103 All of that led to new inhabitants of the land, who brought civilization and commerce. Look now abroad—another race has filled These populous borders—wide the wood recedes, And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are tilled; The land is full of harvests and green meads; Streams numberless, that many a fountain feeds, Shine, disimbowered, and give to sun and breeze Their virgin waters; the full region leads New colonies forth, that toward the western seas Spread, like a rapid flame among the autumnal trees. Here the free spirit of mankind, at length, Throws its last fetters off; and who shall place A limit to the giant’s unchained strength, Or curb his swiftness in the forward race: Far, like the comet’s way through infinite space Stretches the long untravelled path of light Into the depths of ages: we may trace, Distant, the brightening glory of its flight, Till the receding rays are lost to human sight. 104 If one wonders whether Bryant’s poem is connected to landscape art and property law, one might recall that Bryant was a lawyer and that he wrote a poem for Thomas Cole about the scenes that Cole would find when he visited Europe. 105 Moreover, Asher Durand turned Bryant’s most famous poem, 101. Another of Bryant’s poems demonstrates the point: At last the earthquake came—the shock, that hurled To dust, in many fragments dashed and strown, The throne, whose roots were in another world, And whose far-stretching shadow awed our own. From many a proud monastic pile, o’erthrown, Fear-struck, the hooded inmates rushed and fled; The web, that for a thousand years had grown O’er prostrate Europe, in that day of dread Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread. Id. at 22 (stanza 23). 102. Id. at 23 (stanza 27). 103. Id. at 24-25 (stanzas 30-31). 104. Id. at 25-26 (stanzas 32-33). 105. See WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, Sonnet—to Cole, the Painter Departing for Europe, in WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, POEMS, supra note 95, at 217. Robert Ferguson connected Bryant and Cole to the search for order in Law and Letters in American Culture 174 (1984). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 638 Thanatopsis, 106 into a painting. To bring the connections together even further, one should recall that the “kindred spirits” of Durand’s painting Kindred Spirits were Bryant and Cole, together on a promontory in the Catskills. Cole, too, thought about places of law. In 1838, he sketched the Ohio Capitol. But there are many themes running through Cole’s work, and not all of them are aimed at economic and moral progress. Much of his work still relates to property law. Two series illustrate Cole’s ideas about property and feudalism. In 1837, Cole painted The Departure and The Return. The scene is one of optimism as the warriors go off to do battle; one returns on his shield. The senselessness of violence is in a medieval setting. The medieval setting holds a particularly apt place for at least three reasons. First, the sense that Americans had broken free of feudal restraints and progressed beyond them—Americans had moved from an era of people to an era of law. Second, Americans of that romantic era had a particular fascination with the medieval world of chivalry and the mystic past. Third—and what particularly interests me here—is that Cole painted it for William Van Rensselaer of Albany in 1837. Van Rensselaer was about to inherit tens of thousands of acres in New York around Albany. The land had been sold by his grandfather, with feudal incidents, like the requirement that the “tenants” pay a modest yearly fee or perform a few days’ service each year. Van Rensselaer was known as the good patroon. Tenants expected that they would not have to pay the feudal incidents. However, shortly after the “good patroon’s” death in 1839, when there was no forgiveness, the anti-rent movement began. It stretched from 1839 to the Civil War. This was a struggle over vested rights and about the meaning of the rule of law. Tenants wanted to be able to buy their property and be freed of the incidents. The feudal setting may have had a somewhat different meaning for the patroon. 107 So in the anti-rent movement, 106. BRYANT, supra note 95, at 31-33. 107. See Daniel Barnard, The “Anti-Rent” Movement and Outbreak in New York, 2 WHIG REV. 577, 577-98 (Dec. 1845); JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, THE REDSKINS; OR, INDIAN AND INJIN (New York, Burgess & Stringer 1846). Barnard focused on the reasonableness of the rent payments and also on the economic damage that would be done by refusal to pay for property. If “every man is to have his house and his shop free of cost, how is the allotment to be made, at present, and by what magic are future dwellings and shops to rise, free of cost, as numbers increase, and farther accommodations are required?” Barnard, supra, at 589. What will become of property if the Anti-Rent philosophy prevails? Look “through the Anti-Rent regions themselves— those disturbed, agitated, distracted, half-ruined districts of country, as some of them are, but once peaceful, prosperous and happy.” Id. The Anti-Rent movement would mean economic ruin: It is repudiation of debt, because it is debt due for land, or for the use of land, and because every man is entitled to his proper share of land, free of cost! How long a fine agricultural district of country, like Albany, Rensselaer, Columbia, Delaware or Schoharie [C]ounty, could stand this beautiful experiment in agrarianism—how long the schools, academies and churches would be maintained— how long those who have farms which they have paid for, or are paying for, and houses which they have built, would be allowed to keep them in the face of a growing population, addicted to the luxury of good lands and houses free of cost—how long such a district would continue civilized— we commend to the profound consideration and inquiry of those among us who seem to condemn the violent demonstrations of “Anti-Renters,” but who yet profess to see a great deal of merit and a great deal of wisdom in their cause. Id. at 590. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 639 there was a conflict between vested rights and tenants’ claims to property; they sought freedom from what they claimed were feudal obligations. Cole realized that America’s past did not include feudal towers; and that none were to be found, ruined, in the United States. He told a lyceum audience about the influence of the lack of a feudal past and its implications for art. You see no ruined tower to tell of outrage—no gorgeous temple to speak of ostentation; but freedom’s offspring—peace, security, and happiness, dwell there, the spirits of the scene. On the margin of that gentle river the village girls may ramble unmolested—and the glad school-boy, with hook and line, pass his bright holiday—those neat dwellings, unpretending to magnificence, are the abodes of plenty, virtue, and refinement. And in looking over the yet uncultivated scene, the mind’s eye may see far into futurity. Where the wolf roams, the plough shall glisten; on the gray crag shall rise temple and tower—mighty deeds shall be done in the now pathless wilderness; and poets yet unborn shall sanctify the soil. 108 But in The Departure and The Return we see those medieval scenes. Perhaps there is an analogy to the violence of the age of Jackson and the realization of the costs of that violence. Feudalism had its moments of high hope and expectation and also its moments of defeat. Likewise, Thomas Cole’s series The Past and The Present is foreboding (images 9 and 10). The medieval past—the age of chivalry, which was celebrated in some ways in the antebellum era—contrasts with the present age of pastoral, but it is also an age of destruction. Now, in the present, a shepherd works among the ruins of the past. It is a depressing scene in many ways—of the wages of the past; of how far we have fallen; and perhaps of where Europe is; but also perhaps where we are all headed, for there is much evidence Cole intended some of his paintings as a critique of Jacksonian democracy. Many others were concerned with such themes. Cole’s series anticipates Thomas Carlyle’s 1844 book Past and Present, a central volume in the advancement of romantic thought in the antebellum era. Nevertheless, in other places in antebellum America—like Tuscaloosa, Alabama—some continued to see hope independent of Carlyle’s pessimistic work. Benjamin Porter’s 1846 address to the University of Alabama, also titled The Past and The Present, saw cause for optimism about the present. 109 108. Cole, supra note 44, at 12. 109. BENJAMIN PORTER, THE PAST AND THE PRESENT: A DISCOURSE DELIVERED BEFORE THE EROSOPHIC SOCIETY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ALABAMA (Tuscaloosa: M. D. J. Slade. 1845). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 640 Image 9 Thomas Cole, Past (1838) Reproduced with permission of Meade Art Museum, Amherst College, Amherst, MA Image 10 Thomas Cole, Present (1838) Reproduced with permission of Meade Art Museum, Amherst College, Amherst, MA McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 641 These themes of the life and death of culture, and in particular the dangers America faced in the 1830s, appear strongly in Cole’s most famous work, Course of Empire, a series of five paintings that trace the cycle of empires from birth to death. 110 Cole’s image of the course of empire, which is grounded in evidence of 110. Cole’s description of the scenes appears in The Fine Arts, 8 KNICKERBOCKER: OR, NEW-YORK MONTHLY MAG. 629-30 (1836): No. l., which may be called the “Savage State,” or “the Commencement of Empire,” represents a wild scene of rocks, mountains, woods, and a bay of the ocean. The sun is rising from the sea, and the stormy clouds of night are dissipating before his rays. On the farthest side of the bay rises a precipitous hill, crowned by a singular isolated rock, which, to the mariner, would ever be a striking land-mark. As the same locality is represented in each picture of the series, this rock identifies it, although the observer’s situation varies in the several pictures. The chase being the most characteristic occupation of savage life, in the fore-ground we see a man attired in skins, in pursuit of a deer, which, stricken by his arrow, is bounding down a water-course. On the rocks in the middle ground are to be seen savages, with dogs, in pursuit of deer. On the water below may be seen several canoes, and on the promontory beyond, are several huts, and a number of figures dancing round a fire. In this picture, we have the first rudiments of society. Men are banded together for mutual aid in the chase, etc. The useful arts have commenced in the construction of canoes, huts, and weapons. Two of the fine arts, music and poetry, have their germs, as we may suppose, in the singing which usually accompanies the dance of savages. The empire is asserted, although to a limited degree, over sea, land, and the animal kingdom. The season represented is Spring. No. 2.—The Simple or Arcadian State, represents the scene after ages have passed. The gradual advancement of society has wrought a change in its aspect. The ”untracked and rude” has been tamed and softened. Shepherds are tending their flocks; the ploughman, with his oxen, is upturning the soil, and Commerce begins to stretch her wings. A village is growing by the shore, and on the summit of a hill a rude temple has been erected, from which the smoke of sacrifice in now ascending. In the fore-ground, on the left, is seated an old man, who, by describing lines in the sand, seems to have made some geometrical discovery. On the right of the picture, is a female with a distaff, about to cross a rude stone bridge. On the right of the picture is a boy, who appears to be making a drawing of a man with a sword, and ascending the road, a soldier is partly seen. Under the trees, beyond the female figure, may be seen a group of peasants; some are dancing, while one plays on a pipe. In this picture, we have agriculture, commerce, and religion. In the old man who describes the mathematical figure—in the rude attempt of the boy in drawing—in the female figure with the distaff—in the vessel on the stocks, and in the primitive temple on the hill, it is evident that the useful arts, the fine arts, and the sciences, have made considerable progress. The scene is supposed to be viewed a few hours after sunrise, and in the early Summer. In the picture No. 3, we suppose other ages have passed, and the rude village has become a magnificent city. The part seen occupies both sides of the bay, which the observer has now crossed. It has been converted into a capacious harbor, at whose entrance, toward the sea, stand two phari. From the water on each hand, piles of architecture ascend—temples, colonnades and domes. It is a day of rejoicing. A triumphal procession moves over the bridge near the fore-ground. The conqueror, robed in purple, is mounted in a car drawn by an elephant, and surrounded by captives on foot, and a numerous train of guards, senators, etc.—pictures and golden treasures are carried before him. He is about to pass beneath the triumphal arch, while girls strew flowers around. Gay festoons of drapery hang from the clustered columns. Golden trophies glitter above in the sun, and incense rises from silver censors. The harbor is alive with numerous vessels—war galleys, and barks with silken sails. Before the doric temple on the left, the smoke of incense and of the altar rise, and a multitude of white-robed priests stand around on the marble steps. The statue of Minerva, with a victory in her hand, stands above the building of the Caryatides, on a columned pedestal, near which is a band with 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 642 the evolution of society, parallels antebellum thought about history, particularly the history of law. 111 Cole saw progress and destruction, from the state of barbarism, through the pastoral age, to consummation—and, of course, to destruction (not just decline), and desolation. There was a fear of the future, a fear shared by many antebellum Americans. This is a depressing scene to be sure, and suggestive of the fear that many Whigs, from Chancellor Kent to Justice Story, had for America’s future. 112 trumpets, cymbals, etc. On the right, near a bronze fountain, and in the shadow of lofty buildings, is an imperial personage viewing the procession, surrounded by her children, attendants, and guards. In this scene is depicted the summit of human glory. The architecture, the ornamental embellishments, etc., show that wealth, power, knowledge, and taste have worked together, and accomplished the highest meed of human achievement and empire. As the triumphal fete would indicate, man has conquered man—nations have been subjugated. This scene is represented near mid-day, in the early Autumn. No. 4.—The picture represents the Vicious State, or State of Destruction. Ages may have past since the scene of glory—though the decline of nations is generally more rapid than their rise. Luxury has weakened and debased. A savage enemy has entered the city. A fierce tempest is raging. Walls and colonnades have been thrown down. Temples and palaces are burning. An arch of the bridge, over which the triumphal procession was passing in the former scene, has been battered down, and the broken pillars, and ruins of war engines, and the temporary bridge that had been thrown over, indicate that this has been the scene of fierce contention. Now there is a mingled multitude battling on the narrow bridge, whose insecurity makes the conflict doubly fearful. Horses and men are precipitated into the foaming waters beneath; war galleys are contending; one vessel is in flames, and another is sinking beneath the prow of a superior foe. In the more distant part of the harbor, the contending vessels are dashed by the furious waves, aud some are burning. Along the battlements, among the ruined Caryatides, the contention is fierce; and the combatants fight amid the smoke and flame of prostrate edifices. In the fore-ground are several dead and dying; some bodies have fallen in the basin of a fountain, tinging the waters with their blood. A female is seen sitting in mute despair over the dead body of her son, and a young woman is escaping from the ruffian grasp of a soldier, by leaping over the battlement; another soldier drags a woman by the hair down the steps that form part of the pedestal of a mutilated colossal statue, whose shattered head lies on the pavement below. A barbarous and destroying country conquers and sacks the city. Description of this picture is perhaps needless; carnage and destruction are its elements. The fifth picture is the scene of Desolation. The sun has just set, the moon ascends the twilight sky over the ocean, near the place where the sun rose in the first picture. Day-light fades away, and the shades of evening steal over the shattered and ivy-rown ruins of that once proud city. A lonely column stands near the fore ground, of whose capitol, which is illumined by the last rays of the departed sun, a heron has built her nest. The doric temple and the triumphal bridge, may still be recognised among the ruins. But, though man and his works have perished, the sleepy promontory, with its insulated rock, still rears against the sky unmoved, unchanged. Violence and time have crumbled the works of man, and art is again resolving into elemental nature. The gorgeous pageant has passed—the roar of battle has ceased—the multitude has sunk in the dust—the empire is extinct. Id. 111. Thomas Dew gave broad expanse to the evolution of law and society in A Digest of the Laws, Customs, Manners, and Institutions of the Ancient and Modern Nations (New York, A. Appleton & Co. 1853), which looks at evolution of law through western civilization. See also ERIC S. ROOT, ALL HONOR TO JEFFERSON? THE VIRGINIA SLAVERY DEBATES AND THE POSITIVE GOOD THESIS (2008) (focusing on Dew’s philosophy and locating him as a follower of Hegel, emphasizing historical contingency in Dew’s thought and individual setting more than universal truths). Root’s interpretation of Dew places him in line with a number of other antebellum southern thinkers, who also focused on a particular historical setting—rather than universal truths. See generally ROLAND OSTERWEIS, ROMANTICISM IN THE OLD SOUTH (1949); O’BRIEN, supra note 54. 112. See Angela Miller, Thomas Cole and Jacksonian America: The Course of Empire as Political McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 643 While some have emphasized the energetic optimism of Whigs, that optimism came to the Whigs in the 1840s. 113 In the 1830s, they shared a fear of where the United States was headed. VI. THE DEPICTIONS OF PROGRESS IN LITERARY ADDRESSES AND LANDSCAPE ART One link between Thomas Cole’s interpretation of the course of empire and the judicary appears in United States Supreme Court Justice Levi Woodbury’s 1844 oration at Dartmouth. 114 Woodbury saw progress in individuals, as well as society. He did not celebrate ancient society (as Cole did in some ways in the second picture in the sequence of “Course of Empire”), but rather thought that it was modern society where “liberty and law, the arts and the securities of organized government, reign.” 115 Woodbury cataloged some of the changes, including the spread of literacy, more humane behavior in war, and the end of serfdom. Change in the law was an important part of the move toward humanity. 116 Allegory, 14 PROSPECTS 65 (1989). Still, The Course of Empire seems more than the indictment of Jackson than even Miller and Alan Wallach found. See Wallach, supra note 38, at 94. It is also an indictment of luxury, a theme that stretched back to the eighteenth century. 113. See SEAN WILENTZ, THE RISE OF AMERICAN DEMOCRACY: JEFFERSON TO LINCOLN 900 n.26 (2005) (making the point about the pessimism in Cole’s Course of Empire). In THE POLITICS OF INDIVIDUALISM, supra note 10, Lawrence Kohl depicts Whigs as optimistic and the Democrats as pessimistic, though he is dealing mostly with a somewhat later group from Cole. 114. See LEVI WOODBURY, ON PROGRESS: AN ORATION BEFORE THE PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY OF DARTMOUTH COLLEGE 8 (Hanover, Dartmouth Press 1844), reprinted in 3 WRITINGS OF LEVI WOODBURY 75 (Boston, Little, Brown & Co. 1852) 115. Id. at 78. Two years later, Joel Parker returned to the theme of “progress” in his Dartmouth Phi Beta Kappa address. See JOEL PARKER, PROGRESS: AN ADDRESS BEFORE THE PHI BETA KAPPA SOCIETY OF DARTMOUTH COLLEGE, JULY 29, 1846 (Hanover, Dartmouth Press 1846). Indeed, Parker began his address by noting how common was the discussion of progress: The present, is said to be an age of great progress. The assertion can hardly fail to be impressed upon our minds. It is iterated, and reiterated, as if it were danger that it should fail if being credited; or as if it were a particularly grateful theme on which to dwell. On every side it is a subject of exultation. It is borne to us from every point of the compass, and is wafted in every breeze. From the shop of the artisan, and the closet of the student; from the laboratory of the chemist, and the stump of the politician; from the newspaper press, and the congressional hall; on the fourth of July, and the annual thanksgiving; it is echoed, and re-echoed, until the sound of it pervades the whole land, and the conviction of its truth must be brought home to every understanding. Id. at 3. Other literary addresses also bore “progress” in their title or took “progress” as their subject matter. See, e.g., BENJAMIN FRANKLIN JOSLIN, PRIVILEGES AND DUTIES OF MAN AS A PROGRESSIVE BEING (S.S. Riggs, New York, 1833); George Bancroft, Oration Delivered Before the New York Historical Society . . . November 20, 1854, in LITERARY AND HISTORICAL MISCELLANIES 481 (1854) (discussing the “necessity, the reality, and the promise of the progress of mankind”). Treatises, too, looked to explain the meaning and origins of progress. See WILLIAM J. SASNETT, PROGRESS: CONSIDERED WITH PARTICULAR REFERENCE TO THE METHODIST EPISCOPAL CHURCH, SOUTH (T.O. Summers, ed., Nashville, Southern Methodist Publishing House 1856); see also ARTHUR ALPHONSE EKIRCH, THE IDEA OF PROGRESS IN AMERICA, 1815-1860 (1951). 116. See 3 WRITINGS OF LEVI WOODBURY, supra note 113, at 80-81 (“Cultivated victors spare the vanquished; and, guided by more humane principles of national law, strive to introduce new means of 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 644 The progress had been rapid, for until the seventeenth century, scarcely any books existed on the morals and rules that should govern the intercourse among nations; and perhaps no stronger evidence could be cited of the progress made in this matter than the fact, rather harshly expressed by a recent writer, that “the international law of Greece and Rome was the international law of New Zealand, with the exception of cannibalism.” 117 Earlier laws had corrupted society, but by Woodbury’s time, [t]here [was] a growing disposition to spare life, and to reform by giving instruction and imparting habits of industry, rather than to exterminate; and most of the world [had] at last begun to practi[c]e as if they believed man was not a fit subject for vengeance merely from his fellow-man, and possessed reason, conscience, a heart and soul to be improved, and, if possible, used for nobler purposes than to be hung, or made food for gunpowder. 118 Even slavery was becoming extinct. 119 Woodbury, a Democrat, emphasized the importance of popular education in the progress; 120 general education made it possible to emancipate Americans from ancient notions,which led to a focus on practical ideas and utility, as well as a disdain for superstition: [A] gradual release, has been going on from the yoke of numerous antiquated ceremonies, obsolete ideas, systems long since exploded by reason, and tests fitted chiefly to encourage hypocrisy, and ensnare or disfranchise the honest. Modern society has advanced so as to demand what has substance and vitality. It is no longer content with mere show of words or forms—satisfied to clasp a cloud rather than Juno. But practical objects have taken the place more of speculative ones; life has become more a search for truth; history, a chronicle of facts rather than romances. By the growth of the social affections, home and the heart engrossing more of the attention formerly lavished on battles and dynasties, and the livelihood, superior education and morality, better legislation, and thus, in the end, often bring to the conquered numerous blessings, rather than extirpation, or curses.”). 117. Id. at 81. 118. Id. at 82. 119. See id. 120. Id. at 83 (“Because those improvements have increased to all classes, thus situated—not only greater facilities of intercourse and exchange of advantages, but more opportunities for instruction of all kinds,—better schools, lyceums, institutes and colleges, and more liberal endowments for the poor, as well as retreats for the unfortunate,—and, by various other aids, no less than these, have helped to push upward the social position of the whole.”). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 645 many, as well as the master spirits, engaged in traveling—not on holy pilgrimages to Mecca or Jerusalem, but to learn more of men, and governments, and the arts, and all exploring less verbal criticisms, abstractions and polemical controversies, but infinitely more improvements in the great means of subsistence, and the security of the rights of man, and a just knowledge of all the momentous duties and destinies of the human race. 121 Part of the progress came from sympathy for others, which historians commonly use as an explanation for legal changes and for the abolition of slavery. Woodbury credited education for the growth of sympathy. 122 Perhaps most exciting for the current project, however, is that Woodbury brought Cole’s Course of Empire into his speech. Woodbury, a Democrat, linked Cole, a Whig, to his mission of democracy and progress in both individuals and society. Viewing the advancement of man as a species, and not of one individual or nation over another, it is highly probable that his condition, in many respects, has gradually grown better, since creation. It is no refutation of this that some empires have perished, their mausoleums even been crumbled to dust, and the ivy again and again clasped their ruins; for they were but parts of a great whole: and if, as in the firmament, some stars and planets should disappear, others break upon the eye, and, with the rest, move forward and sometimes with increased power and more than renovated beauty. In no mode has the course usual with particular nations, been more finely shadowed forth than in Cole’s imaginative landscapes; starting first in the rudeness of nature; then maturing to high refinement and grandeur, till, amid the ravages of luxury, time and war, sinking into utter desolation. 123 Now Woodbury had the task of turning Cole’s pessimistic message into a more positive one. In keeping with other Democratic speakers, Woodbury emphasized that advancement was possible because a new and better society could arise from that desolation. [N]one can forget how frequently new nations arise on the ashes of others, and in many things transcend their predecessors, like some of our own western cities springing up, in greater luxuriance and power, on the very mounds of a less civilized race. This is the analogy of nature in other matters. The brutes, such as the horse and ox, individually mature, 121. Id. at 84. 122. Id. Woodbury’s slavery discussion contained a limiting principle—that there should only be freedom when slaves are able to handle it. 123. Id. at 77. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 646 decline and die. But others succeed, and, by care in their reproduction as well as growth, have been advanced much, both in beauty and strength. So, the hound has been made more fleet, if not more acute; the sheep, with a more golden fleece; while many plants, from noxious weeds or poisons, have been rendered highly medicinal; and others, whether for ornament or food, are well known to have improved, so as to unfold more lovely hues, as well as furnish richer nutriment. Even the earth, as a whole, is supposed to be much more habitable, healthy and productive than at first; and some of the other planets to have changed, so as better to sustain life for worship to Him whose hand first put them in motion and continues so wonderfully to hold them in their orbits. Nay, more; as creation itself was not an instantaneous but progressive work, so the long preservation of it was likely to require new developments of power, and to be accompanied by improvements as progressive, if not glorious, as its first formation. Surely, in regard to that portion of it displayed in man, almost the whole philosophy of his existence will be found contained in the idea of his continued progress; and some, it is hoped not groundlessly, suppose that the power of deity will more and more be unfolded by advances in man, not only here and through time, but in the whole universe, and through the endlessness of eternity. 124 Where did this progress come from? Woodbury’s thoughts stemmed from commerce and religion. Others spoke of education, property, and the commerce that property rights made possible that led to this progress. 125 So schools were believed to be important vehicles of progress. 126 Jasper Cropsey’s 1855 painting of the University of Michigan with buildings rising out of recently cleared fields is another sign of the linking of universities and progress. 124. Id. 125. De Witt Clinton, Annual Address Before the Alpha of the Phi Beta Kappa Society of Union College, in THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DE WITT CLINTON 329 (William W. Campbell ed., New York, Baker & Scribner 1849). 126. HENRY P. TAPPAN, EDUCATIONAL DEVELOPMENT: A DISCOURSE DELIVERED BEFORE THE LITERARY SOCIETIES UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN ON MONDAY EVENING, JUNE 25, 1855 (Ann Arbor, E. B. Pond 1855). Courts increasingly recognized the benefits of education and construed trusts and corporations for educational purposes broadly, even though they might have violated an English mortmain statute against holding property in trust. [T]he principles applicable to the construction of the [statute of mortmain], can have very little bearing upon that of [American charters of incorporation]. The former were intended for an age, and a condition of society, entirely unlike the political and social institutions of the American States. They were mainly aimed against the grasping power of the religious houses, in a semi-barbarous state of civilization, and were designed to rescue, from what has been quaintly called their death-clutch, the lands whose feudal services were the chief support and defen[se] of the Kingdom. They fully accomplished their purpose by putting it into the power of the King and other feudal lords to enter upon, and seize, the lands when purchased without license from those whose rights were in danger of being invaded. Trs. of Davidson Coll. v. Ex. rel. Chambers, 56 N.C. (3 Jones Eq.) 253, 268-69 (1857). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 647 Many saw, with Woodbury, whose Dartmouth Address was called simply “Progress,” the continued upward progress of society. And that brings us to Asher B. Durand’s 1853 painting. What else could it be called, but Progress? 127 (image at the beginning of the article) Beginning from the left, where a band of Native Americans look on, sweeping across the canvas to the right, there is seemingly every trope of progress—steam ships, a railroad, a church, a canal boat and lock, telegraph lines, a peddler, and the cattle being driven to market. It captures Americans’ excitement about the use of land, as reflected in the optimism about economic and geographic expansion. Durand’s Progress (The Advance of Civilization) contains two key lessons for linking art and property law. First, it correlates with the large theme of the progression in American society, from nature and barbarism to civilization. Many legal educators and jurists spoke or wrote about that progression as well, especially focusing on how the progression of law aided the progression of civilization. Justice Joseph Story’s 1826 Phi Beta Kappa address at Harvard linked progress in morals and the common law. 128 The common law had moved forward in keeping with the needs of commerce. For the common law “adopted much, which philosophy and experience have recommended, although it stood upon no text of the Pandects, and claimed no support from the feudal policy.” 129 Those changes occurred across a wide spectrum: Commercial law, at least so far as England and America are concerned, is the creation of the eighteenth century. It started into life with the genius of Lord Mansfield, and gathering in its course whatever was val- uable in the earlier institutes of foreign countries, has reflected back upon them its own superior lights, so as to become the guide and oracle of the commercial world. 130 127. See Kenneth Maddox, Asher B. Durand’s Progress: The Advance of Civilization and the Vanishing America, in THE RAILROAD IN AMERICAN HISTORY 51-69 (1988) (noting that Charles Gould of the Ohio and Mississippi Railroad commissioned Durand); KINDRED SPIRITS: ASHER B. DURAND AND THE AMERICAN LANDSCAPE (Linda S. Ferber ed. 2007); DAVID B. LASWELL, ASHER B. DURAND: HIS ART AND ART THEORY IN RELATION TO HIS TIMES (1977); Charles Colbert, Razors and Brains: Asher B. Durand and the Paradigm of Nature, 16 STUD. AM. RENAISSANCE 261 (1992). 128. See JOSEPH STORY, SCIENCE AND LETTERS IN OUR DAY (Cambridge 1826), reprinted in REPRESENTATIVE PHI BETA KAPPA ORATIONS 36 (Charles S. Northup ed., 1927). 129. Id. at 49. 130. Id. at 48-49. Justices spoke in similarly broad terms from the bench as well. Chief Justice Shaw wrote about the evolution of the common law in Commonwealth v. Ira Temple, 80 Mass. (14 Gray) 69 (1859): But it is the great merit of the common law, that it is founded upon a comparatively few broad, general principles of justice, fitness and expediency, the correctness of which is generally acknowledged, and which at first are few and simple; but which, carried out in their practical details, and adapted to extremely complicated cases of fact, give rise to many and often perplexing questions; yet these original principles remain fixed, and are generally comprehensive enough to adapt themselves to new institutions and conditions of society, new modes of commerce, new usages 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 648 Another treatise writer and teacher, Timothy Walker, the founder of the Cincinnati Law School (now the University of Cincinnati), wrote about the increasing sophistication of law, as society moved from barbarism to civilization. Walker’s Introduction to American Law, one of the most popular law books of the era, identified the increase in the scope and sophistication of law: Barbarians need few laws, because they have few interests to be regulated by law; but every step in the progress of improvement gives occasion for adding to the body of law, some new provision, until the aggregate becomes formidable to the boldest mind. What could once be written upon ten or twelve tables, anon spreads over thousands; until the practice of law becomes a distinct avocation; and a thorough comprehension of all its infinite details requires the labour of a long and industrious life. 131 The progress in property law, the security that law gave to property, facilitated further progress. Harvard University President Edward Everett told an audience on the fiftieth anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1826, that it was a well-ordered state, where property rights were secure, that led to prosperity and to further moral and technological improvement. 132 Moreover, Everett saw, as Durand depicted a generation later, that humans improved upon nature and needed the state (of which law is an important part) to do so: The greatest engine of moral power, which human nature knows, is an organized, prosperous state. All that man, in his individual capacity, can do—all that he can effect by his fraternities—by his ingenious discoveries and wonders of art—or by his influence over others—is as nothing, compared with the collective, perpetuated influence on human affairs and human happiness of a well constituted, powerful commonwealth. It blesses generations with its sweet influence;—even the barren earth seems to pour out its fruits under a system where property is secure, while her fairest gardens are blighted by despotism;— men, thinking, reasoning men, abound beneath its benignant sway;— nature enters into a beautiful accord, a better, purer asiento with man, and guides an industrious citizen to every rood of her smiling wastes;— and practices, as the progress of society in the advancement of civilization may require. Id. at 74. This was especially true in the case of property. See Henderson’s Adm’r v. Henderson, 21 Mo. 379, 384 (1855) (“The progress of law, as a science, keeping pace, although not uniformly, with the advancement of civilization and wealth, has sanctioned modes of alienation and enjoyment of property, both real and personal, which were prohibited by the common law.”). 131. TIMOTHY WALKER, INTRODUCTION TO AMERICAN LAW 15 (Philadelphia, P. H. Nicklin & T. Johnson 1837). 132. See EDWARD EVERETT, AN ORATION DELIVERED AT CAMBRIDGE ON THE FIFTEENTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE DECLARATION OF THE INDEPENDENCE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA (Boston, Cummings, Hilliard & Co. 1826). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 649 and we see, at length, that what has been called a state of nature, has been most falsely, calumniously so denominated; that the nature of man is neither that of a savage, a hermit, nor a slave; but that of a member of a well ordered family, that of a good neighbour, a free citizen, a well informed, good man, acting with others like him. This is the lesson which is taught in the charter of our independence; this is the lesson, which our example is to teach the world. 133 Everett’s lessons regarding law’s place in establishing order appeared in an oration to the Harvard Phi Beta Kappa Society a few years before. He recalled that one of the first acts of the pilgrims, even before they set foot at Plymouth, was drawing “up a simple constitution of government.” 134 That constitution was a basic need: “Society must be preserved in its constituted forms, or there is no safety for life, no security for property, no permanence for any institution, civil, moral, or religious.” 135 In short, nature is chaos; civilization is order, so we rely upon government to help us improve upon nature. And when we do, there is progress. 136 Those who wrote in more depth on the history of property credited the institution with making human progress possible. New York politician Daniel Barnard’s 1846 Phi Beta Kappa address at Yale, Man and the State, tells of the 133. Id. 134. EDWARD EVERETT, Oration Pronounced at Cambridge, Before the Society of Phi Beta Kappa, August 26, 1824, in ORATION AND SPEECHES 9, 15 (Boston, American Stationers’ Co. 1836). 135. Id. at 15. 136. Bishop Berkeley’s phrase “Westward the Course of Empire” was in 1861 (the year the Civil War began) turned into a landscape painting by Emanuel Leutze. Earlier, in 1818, lawyer Gulian Verplanck invoked Berkeley’s poem and trip to America in the eighteenth century in his discourse to the New York Historical Society, to illustrate the opportunities for educational progress in America. Gulian C. Verplanck, Historical Discourse, in DISCOURSES AND ADDRESSES ON SUBJECTS OF AMERICAN HISTORY, ARTS, AND LITERATURE 9, 47-49 (New York, J. & J. Harper 1833). Later, in 1824, he linked American progress with art and morality and with the westward progress then underway: We may read in it the fortunes of our descendants, and with an assured confidence look forward to a long and continued advance in all that can make a people great. If this is a theme full of proud thoughts, it is also one that should penetrate us with a deep and solemn sense of duty. Our humblest honest efforts to perpetuate the liberties, or animate the patriotism of this people, to purify their morals, or to excite their genius, will be felt long after us, in a widening and more widening sphere, until they reach a distant posterity, to whom our very names may be unknown. Every swelling wave of our doubling and still doubling population, as it rolls from the Atlantic coast, inland, onward towards the Pacific, must bear upon its bosom the influence of the taste, learning, morals, freedom of this generation. Such considerations as these give to the lasting productions of our Arts, and to our feeble attempts to encourage them, a dignity and interest in the eyes of the enlightened patriot, which he who looks upon them solely with a view to their immediate uses can never perceive. Gulian C. Verplanck, Address on the Fine Arts, in DISCOURSES AND ADDRESSES ON SUBJECTS OF AMERICAN HISTORY, ARTS, AND LITERATURE, supra, at 134, 145. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 650 relationship between individuals and the state. 137 This address represents conservative Whig politicians’ defense of property rights in the midst of fighting against the Anti-Rent movement. Barnard locates the right of property in human sentiment: The idea of individual possession and property is aboriginal; it is a natural want which every one feels. And it has not been implanted in our nature in so marked a way, without having eminent uses to be answered by it. I believe it is idle to look for the origin of property in any thing else than the natural want felt by every man—felt in the heart of the first man, as it will be in the heart of the last man on the earth. 138 Barnard also sees protection of property as a key duty of the state: The first perception of property, and of the right of property, perhaps, is when a man seizes and appropriates what till then belonged to nobody; and this perception becomes clear and confirmed when he comes to possess any thing which he himself has produced. But the right of property is not necessary merely in reference to physical wants; it is necessary in reference to intellectual desires and to moral action; it is necessary to independent effort, and to freedom in moral agency. And this right must be assured to men. For otherwise the desire of property, and the possession of property, would be only a perpetual curse. It could only be held with perpetual apprehension, and only defended by perpetual war. But so far as we know, or can discover, this right can only be assured to men in the political state, where common Rules are established for this purpose, with a superior Will and Authority to give these rules force and effect. Moreover, the conception of property can only arise and exist in associated life; for the exclusion of others from the possession and use of what is our own, is a principal thing in that conception. 139 Barnard left it to others to justify property on utilitarian grounds. William and Mary’s President Thomas R. Dew was one of those who focused on the utility of property rights in bringing about political and economic progress. For instance, Dew told how property ownership had purchased freedom from feudalism. In England, freedom arose from the forced conjunction between the people and the feudal lords against the king, which led to the House of Commons. 140 Soon after 137. DANIEL D. BARNARD, MAN AND THE STATE, SOCIAL AND POLITICAL, AN ADDRESS DELIVERED BEFORE THE CONNECTICUT ALPHA OF THE PHI BETA KAPPA AT YALE COLLEGE, NEW HAVEN, AUGUST 19, 1846 (New Haven, B. L. Hamlen 1846). 138. Id. at 17. 139. Id. at 18. 140. DEW, supra note 110, at 465. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 651 1066, the lords and king became united against the natives, much as the whites in the South were united against the slaves; but as the fear of Revolution subsided, divisions emerged between the king and lords. Parliament was the result of the king’s need for money. “Some of the best laws of England, [even] Magna Charta itself . . . were literally purchased with money.” 141 The rest of the story is one of gradual progress, “step by step, through toil and sacrifice, each generation adding something to the security of the work, until the whole fabric was completed.” 142 Property was closely allied to trade in helping preserve freedom. In his 1841 speech the Young American, Ralph Waldo Emerson identified the effect of commerce on law. 143 Commerce—meaning capitalism and property law—had brought down feudalism, and Emerson thought it would do the same to the institution of slavery. Nevertheless, he recognized that trade brought with it a new aristocracy of wealth, with its own set of problems, including oppression of the poor. 144 Judges, too, in writing about property, understood the centrality of the security of property rights and trade to progress. Justice Henry Lumpkin of George linked trade and Christianity together in 1853 in a way reminiscent of Emerson’s celebration of trade. 145 Lumpkin thought that trade signaled and led to moral and economic progress. He used gaps in mountains, worn by water over the ages, as evidence of nature’s law, which he analogized to the belief that free trade brings progress: The chasm in the mountain at Tallulah, and in the Blue-ridge at Harper’s Ferry, are not more demonstrative of the natural law, that water runs and will run, than are the evidences all around, that Free Trade is destined to 141. Id. at 485. 142. Id. at 485-86. 143. See EMERSON, The Young American, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2 144. Id. at 302. [T]he historian will see that trade was the principle of Liberty; that trade planted America and destroyed Feudalism; that it makes peace and keeps peace, and it will abolish slavery. We complain of its oppression of the poor, and of its building up a new aristocracy on the ruins of the aristocracy it destroyed. But the aristocracy of trade has no permanence, is not entailed, was the result of toil and talent, the result of merit of some kind, and is continually falling, like the waves of the sea, before new claims of the same sort. Id. at 302-03. The process by which commerce would end slavery is the subject of substantial debate: did capitalism usher in a period of antislavery because it made consumers more sympathetic to the suffering of slaves or because it made free workers worry about competition from slave labor? See THE ANTISLAVERY DEBATE: CAPITALISM AND ABOLITIONISM AS A PROBLEM IN HISTORICAL INTERPRETATION (Thomas Bender ed., 1993). This debate has analogs in law. How, for instance, did tort law respond to the market? Did it make individuals liable to others because of a growing sense of the duties strangers owed to one another? Peter Karsten suggests this in HEART VERSUS HEAD: JUDGE-MADE LAW IN NINETEENTH-CENTURY AMERICA 255-91 (1997). Or did it reduce liability by making individuals bear the costs of injuries. See MORTON J. HORWITZ, THE TRANSFORMATION OF AMERICAN LAW, 1780-1860, at 63-108 (1977) (proposing that limitations on tort liability promoted economic growth). 145. See Haywood v. Mayor & Aldermen of Savannah, 12 Ga. 404 (1853). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 652 become the predominant principle—the permanent and paramount policy of the world. And I rejoice that it is so. It is the forerunner, as well as the fruit, of the rapidly advancing civilization of the nineteenth century. It is the adjunct and handmaiden of Christianity. May these “golden girdles” soon encircle the globe! Free Trade and the Bible, walking hand-in-hand together, will finally work out the problem of man’s moral regeneration, and establish the reign of Peace on earth. For, talk as we may, about man’s disinterested love of his brother, there is nothing after all, like self-interest, to bind together in indissoluble bonds, the factious family of Adam. 146 Fictional literature likewise explored the conflict between nature and law, though it was somewhat more ambivalent about the constraints that law imposed upon nature than Kent, Story, and Everett. One of the most famous conflicts between nature and law was James Fenimore Cooper’s 1823 novel, The Pioneers. 147 In it, Cooper created a judge, Marmaduke Temple, who brought law to the wilderness of rural New York. Temple owned 60,000, maybe 100,000, acres of land. With him came a new law, prohibiting hunting of deer out of season, which was of particular problem to the hero of the story, Leather-stocking (also known as Natty Bumppo), a man who lived in a small cabin and who represented the ideal American who hunted only when necessary, took no more from the land than he needed, and treated others with respect. Yet, the judge brought a different conception of the use of the land. As one of the judge’s colleagues inquired, Do you not own the mountains as well as the valleys? are not the woods your own? what right has this chap, or the Leather-stocking, to shoot in your woods, without your permission? Now, I have known a farmer in Pennsylvania order a sportsman off his farm with as little ceremony as I would order Benjamin to put a log in the stove. By the by, Benjamin, see 146. Id. Courts recognized that there were limits on the power of legislation to assist commerce. In construing a local tax, which was claimed to be an interference with the commerce clause, the Pennsylvania Supreme Court recognized that Congressional legislation was one small aspect of commerce and that nature, human ingenuity, and local laws necessarily affected it: [C]ommerce, in its very nature, is regulated much more by natural causes, and by civilization and its wants, and by the skill and customs of those engaged in it, than it can be by any possible legislation. Our mountains, lakes, rivers, and climates, and the winds and ocean currents, and the kind of motive power, and the skill in ship-building, and our railroads, and the energy and progress of our citizens, and the common law or customs, national and international, State and interstate, of trade, have much more regulating power than it is possible for Congress to exercise. It cannot exclude any of these from their legitimate influences in the regulation of commerce; and some of these causes, as well human as natural, are very direct in their operation. The man who builds a ship that is fleeter and safer than common, affects in some measure the regulations of commerce, and yet he may fix his own terms for the use of it; and surely a State may improve its own domains and thoroughfares as it chooses, and impose its own terms in the common use of these! Pa. R.R. Co. v. Commonwealth, 3 Grant 128, 130 (Pa.1860). 147. See JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, THE PIONEERS (New York, D. Appleton & Co. 1880) (1823). McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 653 how the thermometer stands. Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm of a hundred acres, what power must a landlord have who owns sixty thousand—aye, for the matter of that, including the late purchases, a hundred thousand? 148 Yet, Natty Bumppo—the Daniel Day Lewis character in Last of the Mohicans—claimed a natural right to hunt on the land. 149 When told about the new law prohibiting hunting out of season and another one on its way prohibiting the cutting of timber, Bumppo cried, “You may make your laws, Judge, . . . but who will you find to watch the mountains through the long summer days, or the lakes at night? Game is game, and he who finds may kill; that has been the law in these mountains for forty years, to my sartain knowledge; and I think one old law is worth two new ones.” 150 While Bumppo wondered, “what has a man who lives in the wilderness to do with the ways of the law,” 151 the answer turned on the fact that law had extended its reach to the wilderness. The judge upheld the conviction for hunting out of season and resisting arrest. This demonstrates a classic conflict between nature and law. Law was rapidly winning, as civilization was advancing and the wilderness was receding. To the judge’s “eye, where others saw nothing but a wilderness, towns, manufactories, bridges, canals, mines, and all the other resources of an old country, were constantly presenting themselves.” 152 The judge’s world was that of Durand’s Progress. * * * There is in Durand’s canvass the progress of technology—from canals and steam engines that do everything from running factories to printing presses, to boats and railroads. 153 Some context for these machines appears in Henry David Thoreau’s Walden. 154 Thoreau records the gentle quiet of nature: 148. Id. at 99. 149. See id. at 121 (“[H]e has a kind of natural right to gain a livelihood in these mountains; and if the idlers in the village take it into their heads to annoy him, as they sometimes do reputed rogues, they shall find him protected by the strong arm of the law.”). 150. Id. at 175. 151. Id. at 342. 152. Id. at 353. 153. Others employed a similar theme. William Sonntag’s now lost series The Progress of Civilization depicted the shift from nature inhabited by natives, to the settler cabins, to a house overlooking a river, with riverboats. It was the story of Cincinnati, where much progress was being made and people could celebrate that progress. WENDY JEAN KATZ, REGIONALISM AND REFORM: ART AND CLASS FORMATION IN ANTEBELLUM CINCINNATI 108 (2002). All of this progress reminds us of what legal historian Willard Hurst referred to in the 1950s as the “release of energy.” See JAMES WILLARD HURST, LAW AND THE CONDITIONS OF FREEDOM IN THE NINETEENTH-CENTURY UNITED STATES (1958). 154. See MARX, supra note 63. LEONARD N. NEUFELDT, THE ECONOMIST: HENRY THOREAU AND ENTERPRISE (1994). One writing about property law in early America ought to speak about “law in the garden,” just as Marx wrote about the “machine in the garden.” For law was yet another technology that was brought to the garden (America). Its appearance might seem just as jarring as the steamboat that suddenly appeared in 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 654 As I sit at my window this summer afternoon, hawks are circling about my clearing; the tantivy of wild pigeons, flying by twos and threes athwart my view, or perching restless on the white-pine boughs behind my house, gives a voice to the air; a fishhawk dimples the glassy surface of the pond and brings up a fish; a mink steals out of the marsh before my door and seizes a frog by the shore; the sedge is bending under the weight of the reed-birds flitting hither and thither . . . . 155 It is a peaceful scene, which almost hypnotizes the reader. Yet, there is a most unnatural noise too: “[F]or the last half hour I have heard the rattle of railroad cars, now dying away and then reviving like the beat of a partridge, conveying travellers [sic] from Boston to the country.” 156 Thoreau doubted there was a place in Massachusetts that one could not hear the railroad whistle. Railroads were a symbol of the commercial republic. The railroad went everywhere and affected everything. Far through unfrequented woods on the confines of towns, where once only the hunter penetrated by day, in the darkest night dart these bright saloons without the knowledge of their inhabitants; this moment stopping at some brilliant station-house in town or city, where a social crowd is gathered, the next in the Dismal Swamp, scaring the owl and fox. The startings and arrivals of the cars are now the epochs in the village day. They go and come with such regularity and precision, and their whistle can be heard so far, that the farmers set their clocks by them, and thus one well-conducted institution regulates a whole country. Have not men improved somewhat in punctuality since the railroad was invented? Do they not talk and think faster in the depot than they did in the stage- office? There is something electrifying in the atmosphere of the former place. I have been astonished at the miracles it has wrought; that some of my neighbors, who, I should have prophesied, once for all, would never Huck Finn and the technology that underlay Moby Dick. And while it might be outmoded in some places—like the ancient gun in Melville’s Typee—law was yet another technology that was rapidly coming into the modern era and it was part of what was making yet further advances possible. See MARK DEWOLFE HOWE, THE GARDEN AND THE WILDERNESS: RELIGION AND GOVERNMENT IN AMERICAN CONSTITUTIONAL HISTORY (1965). At other times, the law recognized gardens as a place of home. My books and my garden are the place of my home—or so thought a Florida court when determining residency for probate of a will. See Smith v. Croom, 7 Fla. 81 (1857). When we think of how the legal system approached the machine in the garden, we might turn to the obscure by engaging case of Guille v. Swan, decided by the New York Supreme Court (the New York trial court) in 1822. See Guille v. Swan, 19 Johns. 381 (N.Y.Sup. 1822). In that case, a balloonist went up, then fell from his car. As his balloon dragged along the ground near where it went up, the balloonist called for help and a crowd of people stampeded into the garden, trampling crops along the way. The owner of the garden sued for damage and collected a judgment for the entire value of the damage, including that done by the bystanders who ran into the garden. 155. HENRY DAVID THOREAU, WALDEN 155-61 (New York, Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 1983) (1854). 156. Id. at 151. McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 655 get to Boston by so prompt a conveyance, are on hand when the bell rings. To do things “railroad fashion” is now the by-word; and it is worth the while to be warned so often and so sincerely by any power to get off its track. . . . What recommends commerce to me is its enterprise and bravery. It does not clasp its hands and pray to Jupiter. I see these men every day go about their business with more or less courage and content, doing more even than they suspect, and perchance better employed than they could have consciously devised. I am less affected by their heroism who stood up for half an hour in the front line at Buena Vista, than by the steady and cheerful valor of the men who inhabit the snow-plow for their winter quarters; who have not merely the three o’clock in the morning courage, which Bonaparte thought was the rarest, but whose courage does not go to rest so early, who go to sleep only when the storm sleeps or the sinews of their iron steed are frozen. 157 We see all of this in George Inness’ 1855 Lackawanna Valley (image 11)— the railroad cutting through the field that had recently been cleared of trees; the roundhouse, factories, telegraph lines, church, brick buildings, farms, roads, and those hauling goods to market, in the background. The tracks have been fenced to keep cattle out—a frequent subject of litigation. 158 The railroad is the center of the land and ties it all together. 159 157. Id. at 154-56. 158. See, e.g., Ohio & Md. R.R. Co. v. McClelland, 25 Ill. 140 (1860) (finding that an act requiring railroads to fence out cattle was a valid exercise of the Illinois Legislature’s police power). The Illinois Supreme Court worried that railroads had to be subject to the legislature’s police power: In this age of improvement, and rapid advance in material development of the wealth of the country, when incorporated bodies are created in such numbers, for the advancement of this end, and when legislative bodies grant corporate privileges with such freedom, for almost every conceivable purpose, and when they are created for purposes which, but a few years past, private enterprise or ordinary copartnerships were supposed to be fully adequate, it becomes a question of no small moment to ascertain and clearly define their general privileges, and the extent to which they may be controlled by legislative action. It never could have been the legislative will, that these bodies, when created, should be wholly independent of and irresponsible to the government. If such was the operation of their charters, then we have created in the heart of our government, an uncontrollable power, which must, sooner or later, become dangerous to our rights, if not to constitutional liberty itself. But if, on the other hand, they, like individuals, are under the reasonable control of the government, they may accomplish the purposes of their organization, and prove a blessing to civilization, and not destructive to government. Id. at 125-26. 159. Thomas Cole, however, painted a railroad going through the Catskills in 1843, River in the Catskills, which is not a celebration of progress. Kenneth W. Maddox, Thomas Cole and the Railroad: Gentle Maledictions, 30 ARCHIVES AM. ART J. 146, 148 (1990) (quoting Thomas Cole’s “The Spirits of the Wilderness: A Poem,” Part 8, NYSL; Archives of American Art, microfilm roll ALC-3). 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 656 McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 657 Railroads are a primary vehicle for bringing civilization—trade and law—to the United States. Ralph Waldo Emerson, who was perhaps less skeptical of railroads than Thoreau, captured the power of railroads to bind our country together in his speech to the Boston Mercantile Association in 1844: I hasten to speak of the utility of these improvements in creating an American sentiment. An unlooked-for consequence of the railroad, is the increased acquaintance it has given the American people with the boundless resources of their own soil. If this invention has reduced England to a third of its size, by bringing people so much nearer, in this country it has given a new celerity to time, or anticipated by fifty years the planting of tracts of land, the choice of water privileges, the working of mines, and other natural advantages. Railroad iron is a magician’s rod, in its power to evoke the sleeping energies of land and water. 162 Judges employed similar language in talking about railroads. In an 1855 case, for instance, the Tennessee Supreme Court concluded that railroads were eligible for state loans for the construction of roads. The court emphasized the centrality of railroads to this purpose: Roads which suffice for a population of hundreds concentrated at a few points, and making but a small amount for market, would not answer for thousands covering the whole face of the country, and rolling up millions of produce for transportation. The advance may be, and generally is, gradual in this, as in most other things; but it is as steady and sure as any other kind of improvement which results from the wants and urgent necessities of a people. . . . Blessings innumerable, prosperity unexampled, have marked the progress of this master improvement of the age. Activity, industry, enterprise, and wealth seem to spring up as if by enchantment, wherever the iron track has been laid, or the locomotive moved. . . . Here, then, is a road to pass through the county of Sumner, touching her seat of justice, bringing to the doors of her citizens all the necessaries and luxuries both of the north and south, transporting all their surplus productions to the best markets, and her people wherever interest, business, or pleasure may call; and all this with that great dispatch which steam alone can impart to matter, and before which space dwindles into a 162. EMERSON, The Young American, in NATURE, ADDRESSES, AND LECTURES, supra note 2, at 293, 296. 2009 / Antebellum Landscape Art and Property Law 658 point, and the people of distant States are brought into daily communication. 163 And in other cases, judges took action to limit damages for decrease in property values by railroads. 164 Inness’ painting is a celebration of sorts of technology; the railroad was central to thinking about property law, for it was a frequent point of contention on issues of eminent domain, nuisance, and trespass. Railroads promote and illustrate that progress—yet they disturb nature at the same time. They signaled the age of individualism, in which employers were not liable for the injuries to their workers, either because workers had assumed the risk of injury by working for the railroad, or because the railroad was not liable for the injuries due to fellow workers’ negligence. Courts only imposed liability on railroads that were negligent. 165 Railroads were also central to remaking property rights. Judges were increasingly skeptical that railroads were nuisances and overturned injunctions against them. So even if a railroad were found to be a nuisance, a court would deny an injunction against its operation and leave plaintiffs to money damages alone, 166 representing an early manifestation of one of the key principles of injunctions and business development in the late twentieth century. Moreover, legislatures granted railroads—and before them canals—the right of private condemnation. 167 Judges routinely upheld the right to use eminent domain to construct railroads, even through a cemetery. 168 Judges’ emphasis on utility was 163. See Louisville & Nashville R.R. Co. v. County Court of Davidson, 33 Tenn. (1 Sneed) 637 (1854). 164. Proprietors of Locks & Canals v. Nashua & Lowell R.R. Corp., 64 Mass. (10 Cush.) 385, 389 (1852). 165. Justice Eugenius A. Nisbet of the Georgia Supreme Court rejected the principle of strict liability for a railroad in Macon & Western R.R. Co. v. Davis, 13 Ga. 68 (1853); he found the mere suggestion of liability without fault “a reproach to the civilization of the age.” Id. at 86. Nesbit thought he would never see such legislation in “any free State.” It was both unjust and would drive railroads out of business. “Besides its oppressive injustice, it would be grossly inexpedient, inasmuch as it would deny to the public the incalculable benefits of Railroads, for no company would long exercise franchises thus encumbered.” Id. 166. See Lexington & Ohio R.R. Co. v. Applegate, 38 Ky. (8 Dana) 289 (1839). 167. Joseph Dorfman, Chancellor Kent and the Developing American Economy, 61 COLUM. L. REV. 1290 (1961); see also Jerome v. Ross, 7 Johns. Ch. 315 (N.Y. Ch. 1823) (upholding a private condemnation statute for construction of the Erie Canal). 168. See Proprietors of Cemetery of Spring Grove v. Cincinnati, H. & D. R. Co., 10 Ohio Dec. Reprint 316 (Ohio Super. 1849). The court acknowledged sentimental considerations ought to play a role in eminent domain, but property rights still yield to progress in the form of eminent domain actions for the construction of canals and railroads. Thus the public exigency that would exhume the remains of a venerable citizen, whose friends and relations were living around him, should be higher than that which would plough up the grave of an Indian chief, whose tribe was extinct and whose name forgotten. The exigency that would root up the fruit trees and shrubbery about a man’s dwelling, should be greater than that which would open a way through his corn fields or meadows. And the exigency that would open a railway through even the ornamental grounds of a cemetery, ought to be more important than that which would open it through a race course or bowling green, which had cost more money, and would be harder to replace. But these are questions of degree, and not of right. The right of eminent domain is McGeorge Law Review / Vol. 40 659 remaking property law, and the larger society’s celebration and wariness about the ever-present considerations of utility appeared in landscape art. 169 VI. CONCLUSION Landscape art in the years leading up to the Civil War often focused on Americans’ rapid development of the land. The images show a progression from wilderness to a world filled with humans, stretching from rude cabins to brick houses, factories, mills, canals, even railroads and telegraphs. Some artists disclosed a wariness of the development of land; others revealed a celebration of the changes. Such sentiments appeared in American society more generally as well. In their writings, stretching from judicial opinions and treatises to orations, legal thinkers emphasized two aspects of property. First, that property rights were a central part of creating a culture of progress and second, that property doctrine facilitated that progress. Landscape art can help us understand more fully the ways that culture is connected to legal thought and how it both supports and critiques that thought. As we continue to develop a sophisticated understanding of the connections between legal culture and American society, landscape art may provide some important additional data points. co-extensive with the public wants, and has no other limit. The right of the property holder is a compensation in money, and has no other extent. Id. at 258. 169. The utilitarian calculus that underlay changes in the common law of property rarely appeared in public law, for considerations of utility in public law threatened to overturn vested rights. A public law based on utility might reassign property from those with much property to those in greater need. See MORTON J. HORWITZ, THE TRANSFORMATION OF AMERICAN LAW, 1780-1860, at 255 (1977) (noting the absence of utility in public law); Alfred L. Brophy, Reason and Sentiment: The Moral Worlds and Modes of Reasoning of Antebellum Jurists, 79 B.U. L. Rev. 1161, 1171-72, 1207-12 (1999) (discussing the importance of considerations of utility in antebellum thought and private law); Alfred L. Brophy, Thomas Ruffin: Of Monuments and Moral Philosophy, 87 N.C. L. Rev. 799, 813-14, 833-34 (2009) (discussing considerations of utility in Justice Ruffin’s private law decisions); Alfred L. Brophy, Order and Complexity: Legal Thought in the Old South (on file with author) (highlighting cases and treatises in the old South employing utility). 
work_gutysmhhcjhptplyicsaodgj4u	----	John Minter Morgan's Schemes, 1841–1855 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE JOHN MINTER MORGAN'S SCHEMES, 1841-185 5 One summer's day, 22 June 1841, fifty-nine year-old John Minter Morgan launched a scheme to establish "self-supporting villages" under the superintendence of the Established Church. It was a stirring attempt to rouse the Establishment to its responsibilities in the face of the Owenite challenge, and it secured a respectable response. An admiral (Sir G. Scott), a general (George Norton Eden) and a respectable muster of clergy, mainly from the Ham, East Sheen and West Molesely districts, all rallied to hear what was afoot.1 To Minter Morgan it was the climax of some twenty-five years in his career of social philanthropy 2, a career which he could be said to have begun when he first heard Robert Owen at the London Tavern on 21 August 1817 expound his gospel that "national edu- cation and employment could alone create a permanent, rational, intelligent, wealthy, and superior population, and that these results could be attained only by a scientific arrangement of the people, united in properly-constructed villages of unity and co-operation". As Owen became more aggressively atheistic, Minter Morgan became more conciliatory and Christian. Minter Morgan had supported the Duke of Kent's Committee, established in 1819 to raise subscriptions for the establishment of an experimental "parallelogram" or "Village of 1 His audience included the Hon. Alg. G. Tollemache, Rev. Jas. Hough, M. A., Capt. Blanchford, Gordon Forbes, Admiral Sir G. Scott, Gen. George Norton Eden, Rev. Thomas Hore and Captain Roberts, R. N., all of Ham; The Rev. Dr. Walmsley and Rev. J. A. Emerson, M. A., of Hanwell; Rev. Geo. Hope, R. N., Rev. G. Trevelyon, M. A., of Maiden; Rev. F. J. H. Reeves of East Sheen; Rev. E. A. Omaney, M. A., of Mortlake; Rev. J. P. Mills, A. B., of West Molesely; Dr. Arnott of Bedford Square; and G. Craik Esq. s His importance has been recognised by Max Beer, History of British Socialism (1929), i, pp. 126, 180, 184, 228-50. The purpose of this paper is to provide further evidence of his activities. G. D. H. Cole, Socialist Thought: The Forerunners 1789-1850 (1953) describes him as "the first to take up Owen's plans of 1817 and advocate their adoption, while rejecting Owen's hostility to religion." Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J . M. MORGAN S SCHEMES 2 7 Unity and Co-operation", by publishing an enthusiastic pamphlet entitled "Remarks on the Practicability of Mr. Owen's Plan to improve the Conditions of the Lower Classes". But Owen's aggra- vation of the churches prejudiced the success of the scheme and it collapsed. Morgan was deeply concerned about the consequences of industri- alisation. In 1826 (when he was 44 years old) he published The Revolt of the Bees. This, serialized by the Co-operative Magazine, was much read by working men, who bought it for their Mechanics' Institutes. Harriet Martineau read it and it was also to be found on the shelves of Manea Fen. In this he turned the cynical eighteenth-century thesis of that eighteenth-century Freud, Bernard Mandeville, to regenerative purposes. It was the story of a hive that went through five revolutions, from "noble savagery", through "pastoral occupations", "farming" and "industry", to a fifth revolution pioneered by "the wise bee" (Owen). After this fifth revolution all benefitted from a redistribution of the fruits of wealth and knowledge. He followed this by publishing An Inquiry Respecting Private Property and the authority and Perpetuity of the Apostolic Institution of a Community of Goods (1827), in which he called attention to the original function of a deacon, as one responsible for the communal property of the early Christians.1 II There was something apian in Minter Morgan's own industrious eclecticism. He was a great promoter of schemes for the Establish- ment to adopt. In Letters to the Bishop of London (1830) he put forward his plan. "Through the insufficiency of knowledge and experience in their respective eras", Morgan wrote, Plato, More and Bacon "were unable to perfect a system". "Yet", he continued, "their general principle was true and has at length assumed a practical and durable form". The "practical and durable form" of Morgan's plan was that "each class of society could derive great advantages without the surrender of their present habits and opinions". He urged the Bishop of London to sanction and commend it as "an advance towards a superior state of society". For episcopal sanction would ensure acceptance with the public. Morgan's plan was devised to prevent the intermixture of the three classes of society. For the upper class he suggested that a "college" 1 This work shows how the Essenes (p. 121), Spenceans (p. 132) and Shakers (p. 134) and Moravians (p. 134) coloured thought on the subject. He republished it in the Phoenix Library in 1850. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 2 8 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE the size of one of the largest squares in London should be built, surrounded by a park and gardens. It was to house 1,000 families, each paying a rent of £ ioo a year, and would cost £ 800,000, and earn, in rentals, £ 40,000 a year. He had a model made and placed in the saloon of the Colosseum in Regents Park. He described this upper class community as combining: "the pleasures of town and country residence, for besides pro- curing, in a superior degree, their present objects including education for their children, they could have libraries, theatres, and philosophical apparatus for lectures, music and ballrooms, baths, gymnasia, and whatever belongs to the highest physical and moral cultivation . . . Increased attention could be given to scientific enquiry by magnificent orreries, globes lately exhibited at Paris, superior solar microscopes, and other aids to philo- sophical illustration, and such as no private fortune, however great, could command. The powerful impulse which such exhibitions and aids would have in stimulating the useful curiosity of the children, must be obvious. The concerts also could be conducted upon a scale of magnitude, and with an effect beyond the reach of any private entertainment. The Association would enable the children of the middle and higher classes of society to enjoy the benefit of an infant school, which has hitherto been confined to the working classes." For the other two classes, more modest communities were projected. "Squares" were to be erected seven miles outside London and centred round a school. The unemployed would have a "settlement" to provide work. For those who were not in community, Morgan suggested that churches should be opened on workdays as com- munity centres and in the evenings for lectures. Even here he was careful to add, "There would be no premature mixture of classes, as each class could occupy the same pews and seats as on a Sunday".1 As an enthusiast for "community", he was in close touch with Sted- man Whitwell and William Thompson, both of whom published their scheme in the same year as Morgan addressed the Bishop of London. Stedman Whitwell outlined his scheme in his "Description of an Architectural M o d e l . . . . for a Community upon a principle of United Interests, as advocated by Robert Owen" (London 1830). Whitwell's community was to be three times as large as Russell Square, covering thirty-three acres with a quadrangle of twenty-two acres. A diagonal line of this vast structure was to coincide with the 1 Letters to the Bishop of London (1830). Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J . M. MORGAN S SCHEMES 2 9 meridian to ensure equal distribution of light and be convenient for astronomical and geographical purposes. Each side of the parallelo- gram was to consist of i ,000 feet. Each apartment was to have a ground and a first-floor and consist of two sets of sitting rooms, a chamber and a closet. Dormitories were to be provided both for the unmarried and for children. The whole building was to be internally heated, with hot and cold water in each apartment. There were to be libraries and public rooms with large staircases leading throughout the building. It was a Fourierist phalanx anglicised.1 Thompson went one further and issued "Practical Directions for the Speedy and Economical Establishment of Communities" (1830). He thought that communities could be founded as easily as "the establish- ment of any ordinary manufacture", by a joint stock company. Communities, Thompson continued, could arise out of a normal co- operative venture, of which he recognised there were some 300 or so existing in England. From co-operative nuclei, Thompson envisaged a community of 2,000 people taking shape. His sanitary, agricultural and economic ideas included a suggestion for regulation of the birth rate. When he died three years later he left £ 10,000 to some socialist trustees for the purpose of establishing Communities. As the legacy was inadequate and creditors were pressing, the plan came to nothing.2 Thompson's plan captured the imagination of co-operators and at the Manchester Co-operative Conference of 1831, it was resolved "upon the plan laid down by Mr. Thompson" to establish communi- cation with 199 other Co-operative Societies in order that "an incipi- ent Community of two hundred persons, with a capital of £ 6,000 may immediately be formed in some part of England". A committee was duly formed in October of that year to carry out the plan. "Immediacy", however, was the stumbling block. Owen (who had returned to England in 1829) discouraged the project, and at the 1832 Congress in London the Committee reported that they had only secured support from two of the societies. Travellers from America, where they had seen communities in action, fed the enthusiasm and T. Wayland, in his Equalisation of Property and the Formation of Community (,1832), revealed that he was much encouraged by their tales. Owen himself added impetus to the drive for a community. The Crisis, first issued in 1832, carried a picture of a community on its title page. Two years later this paper, now called The New Moral 1 Stedman Whitwell was at New Harmony (Indiana) with Owen from January to August 1826 where he published A new nomenclature suggested for communities, in: New Har- mony Gazette, 12 April 1826, and published an account of it in the Co-operative Magazine (London) in January 1827. 2 R. K. P. Pankhurst, William Thompson, 1775-1833, London 1954. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core }O W. H . G. ARMYTAGE World, carried numerous suggestions for communities. "J.C.", for instance, writing in the 4th number of the New Moral World, proposed a "Floating Co-operative Community", arguing: "As the preservation of the human species depended on the ark, why may not the regeneration of society arise from the waters. The very deluge which destroyed the imperfections of anti- diluvian society, may become instrumental, by the aid of modern science, in establishing the foundation of a new moral world by giving a local habitation and a name to what has been contemptu- ously called the visionary system of Mr. Owen." * "J.C." suggested that an old warship should be purchased on the Thames where such an experiment might be initiated. Another correspondent, "E.L.", suggested a week later that a community should be established.2 As Owen re-entered the English scene, Morgan turned his attention to education. He had lectured at the London Mechanics Institute in 1830 on Sunday lectures. Three years earlier (in 1827) he had printed Pestalozzi's Letters on Early Education and held Pestalozzi's chief English disciple, James Pierrepont Greaves, in high regard, remarking in his book "Hampden in the Nineteenth Century, or Colloquies on the Errors and Improvement or Society" (18 3 4) that "among the numerous advocates for various improvements, there was not one who exceeded him in personal sacrifices to what he esteemed a duty".3 He also urged the proprietors of the newly-founded University of London, in an "Address" he printed in 1833, to establish a chair of education.4 And as Owen's scheme for a community at Tytherley began to annoy the clergy, Minter Morgan began to crusade on behalf of a self-supporting village under the superintendance of the Church of. England. Ill During the extensive Parliamentary debates on the "condition of England" in July 1842, Minter Morgan organised a petition to Parliament. It was presented by William F. Cowper, whose mother was the sister of Lord Melbourne, the wife of Lord Cowper and mistress of Lord Palmerston, whom she married shortly after her 1 New Moral World, 22 November 1834. 2 Ibid. 29 November 1834. 3 Hampden in the Nineteenth Century (1834). Emerson read it and wrote "The spirit is excellent". The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1939) ed. R. L. Rusk, IV p. 71. 4 Mistaken by Dr. H. Hale Bellot, University College, London (1929), p. 141 as "a Mr. J. H. Morgan". Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core j . M. MORGAN'S SCHEMES 31 husband's death in 1837.1 Though it came to nothing, it brought further publicity to his scheme. He also sought for, and obtained, the approval of the Vice-Chancellor of the University of Oxford. He stumped the country. At Cheltenham the Rev. Francis Close held a crowded meeting in the infant school to expatiate upon this plan.2 At Sheffield, the clergy listened in April of 1843 to an explanation of it, and the Sheffield Iris reported: "Church of England Agricultural Self-Supporting Institution During the past week Mr. John Milner [!] Morgan, of Ham Common, in Surrey, has been exhibiting before the clergy and other inhabitants of the town, a very beautiful transparent painting at the Cutler's Hall of a Self-Supporting Institution, the principles and economy of which, he states, might be applied, with the necessary modifications, to existing manufacturing establishments, having such an extent of land as might afford a healthful and profitable resource to the workmen and their families, especially in times of commercial difficulty. According to the prospectus, it is proposed to form, in the centre of an adequate extent of land (not less than one thousand acres) arrangements in connection with the Church of England, in which, under efficient direction three hundred families may be established, by the produce of their own labour, not only to support themselves, but to defray the expenses of the Establishment. In these expenses would be included the interest of capital advanced. The chief employment of the aggregated body would be agricultural, combined, at the discretion of the Committee of Management, with handicraft and mechanical pursuits. The whole concern looks very beautiful on canvas, but we doubt very much its practicability. - We understand that Mr. Morgan purposes returning to Sheffield during the summer, when the subject will be brought before a public meeting."3 A similar meeting, six months later, at the Wakefield Mechanics Institute was the subject of comment by the Leeds Mercury: 1 The text can be found in Morgan's Christian Commonwealth (1850) pp. 97-8. W. F. Cowper later (in 1848) married Georgina Tollemache of Ham, whose cousin was another of Minter Morgan's supporters (see Note 1 on p. 26). She edited "Memorials" of his life (privately printed, 1890). From this we learn that in 1858 he was reading Law's Spirit of Love and "liked it very much". He was a friend and supporter of Laurence Oliphant. 2 Rev. Francis Close 1787-1882, was a diligent pamphleteer who had published his "sermon to the Female Chartists at Cheltenham" in 1859 and issued a sermon "on insipid sermons" in 1867. 3 The Sheffield Iris, 15 April, 1843. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 32 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE "The plan is very similar to that proposed by Mr. Robert Owen, with the addition of a church and a resident minister. We understand that the law of marriage, as at present understood, is proposed to be adhered to in the Modern Eden." 1 In the following year Morgan explained his scheme at the Clerical Library, and the Collegiate Sunday School, Liverpool, at the Athe- naeum and St. Ann's Schoolroom in Manchester, at St. George's School Rooms, Bolton, and at a large public meeting in Derby.2 For those who did not attend such public meetings, Morgan issued a large illustrated folio volume entitled The Christian Commonwealth (1845). I n t n i s n e outlined his philosophy of historical development citing Plato, Bacon, More, Harrington, and the Gaudentia de Lucca (which he ascribed to Bishop Berkeley) as "speculators on better systems of polity". He added that his own times were far more aus- picious than theirs as "the idea of commencing de novo with a detached portion of the community, and illustrating their principles by an epiborne of society, had not then occurred: but in modern times the principle of Association has often been resorted to for the accomplish- ment of many important objects". Co-secretaries of his "Society to Form Self-Supporting Villages" were the Rev. Joseph Brown and the Rev. Edmund R. Larken. Brown, the chaplain to the Poor Law Schools at Norwood, used to bring poor London children down to Ham Common each year.3 E. R. Larken, an old Etonian, was the rector of Burton by Lincoln in 1843.* He had a large beard and had flirted with "Christian Fou- rierism". As a thirty-two year old social investigator in 1842, he had, he said, "met with sights and sounds of distress enough to freeze the blood within my veins". This experience led him to promote a new but partially tried remedy, Association upon Christian principles, "wherein, each labouring for all, the exertions of each will receive their due and proper reward - wherein the weak shall be aided and supported by the strong". In 1843, a s a Lincolshire curate, he had preached a sermon at Horbling "on behalf of the distressed manu- facturers" from Galatians VI 2: "Bear ye one another's burdens". The sermon was printed by J. Young as "Christian Sympathy" (1843) and contained a sketch of the industrial system of Fourier. 1 Leeds Mercury, 28 October, 1843. 2 J. Minter Morgan, The Christian Commonwealth (1845). 3 He published a "Sketch of the State and Progress of the Poor Law Schools at Norwood with reference to Religion" (1843). 4 E. R. Larken. He was so described by G. J. Holyoake (Sixty Years of an Agitator's Life, 1893, i, p. 237). He had married the daughter of Lord Monson and his rectory was in his father-in-law's park. W. J. Linton, Memories (1895). Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J . M. MORGAN S SCHEMES 3 3 Larken was a good French scholar; five years later he and Matilda Hays were to publish a translation of the Works of George Sand. Similar efforts were being made by his friends in other directions. The Bishop of Norwich and W. F. Cowper subscribed their moral and financial support to the Labourer's Friend Society. This body had on 11 May 1844 enlarged its operations and changed its name to the Society for the Improvement of the Conditions of the Labouring Classes. As such, it promoted schemes for model houses and agri- cultural cottages, allotments and "planned dwellings". From greatly increased financial resources it now exhibited model houses in Strea- tham Street, Bloomsbury, where 48 families were housed, a building known as 2 Charles Street, Drury Lane, where 82 single men lived, and another at 76 Hatton Gardens housing 59 single women. It had no less than seven designs for agricultural cottages in pairs.1 To this widening scope of operations, the Society now had the advantage of a journal, The Labourer's Friend, which recorded right up to the i88oties, a host of similar promotions and activities. Minter Morgan was its firm supporter, and his name was prominent in the subscription list. Then too, in 1845, W. F. Cowper devoted himself to promoting a Bill in the House of Commons for enabling vestries and local authori- ties to acquire land for letting it out in allotments. This measure was opposed by the utilitarian group like J. A. Roebuck, since it would stem the march of industrialism. Nor did Morgan confine his missionary tours to England. He met some English workmen at Boulogne in 1845 and (literally) unfolded his scheme to them. According to him they saw "it was the best remedy for the disorders of society they had yet heard of, and better than O'Connor".2 He also talked to the Fourierists, Considerant and Doherty. He interviewed Etienne Cabet, who gave him a copy of his famous book. So convinced was he of the essential wrong headedness of Fourierist schemes that he devoted Letter 12 of "Letters to a Clergyman" (1846) to a severe criticism ot them. Morgan also visited the Moravian settlements at Herrnhut in Saxony, Neuwied on the Rhine and Zeist in Holland. At each the bishops and managers recommended the speedy establishment of similar communities. In his travels he met the Baron von der Recke 1 See The Labourer's Friend, June 1844. The Labourer's Friend Society was formed in 1831 and had already published Facts and Illustrations demonstrating the important benefits... derived... from possessing small portions of land etc. (1831). Cottage Hus- bandry; the utility and national advantage of allotting land for that purpose (1835). 2 Letters to a Clergyman (1846), p. 5. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 34 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE in Diisseldorf, where an old monastery was being used as a social community.1 IV After five years of such activity, the Church of England Self-Sup- porting Villages Society held another important meeting at the Exeter Hall on 27 May 1846. The Hon. William F. Cowper, M. P., presided, flanked by powerful and distinguished Tories.2 Cowper opened the meeting by saying, "We are in the situation of people digging in a field for a treasure which we believe to be somewhere about, but know not exactly where". With a singular analogy, he continued, "The Clubs of London show how the principle of combination can be applied to the increase of luxury. Palaces are reared containing comforts for a large body of men which they could not have individually and separately. But the benefits to be derived from combination have not yet been extended as they might be to the social existence of the hard labour classes." The audience was a large one, larger than had been expected, and the Bishop of Norwich rose to express his "satisfaction" that this was the case. He outlined his own "conversion" to Morgan's scheme: "I can well recollect that when I first heard of this institution, and mentioned it to others, prejudices were excited immediately; because Mr. Morgan talked of squares and parallelograms, immediately the ghost of Mr. Owen's plan rose up before people's imaginations; and I believe that that phantom very nearly nipped the whole scheme in the bud. He now simply proposes to establish a village, no matter what its form shall be, whether square, or circus or streets, but an aggregation of buildings, which shall accommodate 300 families, which, taking four or five to a family, we may consider to amount to 1200 or 1500 individuals." After expiating on the virtues of "combination and concentration" as principles for improving the standard of living, the Bishop said: "It appears that the ruling principle which Christianity enjoins in the intercourse between man and man has never yet been fully applied to the social and industrial arrangements of a country; these have hitherto not been directed by the spirit of love and mutual participation in different wants and cases. We have gone 1 Op. cit. 2 For a full report of the conference op. cit., pp. 155-192 and The People's Journal 1 (1846), Annals of Industry 46. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J . M. MORGAN S SCHEMES 35 upon the old principle, which I fear still prevails among Christians . . . of each looking to his own interest and trusting that the interest of the whole would be secured by each member caring for himself. Now I am anxious to attempt something of a different sort." When the Bishop stressed that "among the cluster of cottages, first, and above all, the spire of a Church of England should rise", cheers and "a solitary hiss" greeted him. James Silk Buckingham moved a resolution "that the benefits resulting in the Moravian settlements, from a more intimate con- nection between secular and religious affairs, and the rapid accumu- lation of wealth in some religious societies constituted on a similar principle in America, encourage a well-grounded type that associations of the unemployed poor, under the direction of intelligent members of our own pure and reformed Church, with all the facilities and scientific appliances this country affords, would realise advantages still more important". Not only did he quote the Shakers and Rappites in support of his thesis, but also the example of the Irish Waste Lands Society formed in 1841 under the Earl of Devon, which was culti- vating 18,000 acres of land with 2,000 people, and paying a dividend of i\%. Buckingham suggested that they might begin on the "associ- ative principle" with waste land on Hounslow Heath or Salisbury Plain. Buckingham was seconded by the Rev. Hugh Hughes, the Rector of St. Johns, Clerkenwell, who confessed that he knew of "no other plan that is likely to meet the emergencies of society". "The present miserable and destitute state of the working classes of this country", he went on, "is far beyond the reach of any measure hitherto at- tempted for their amelioration." The Rev. Hughes vented some rous- ing socialistic principles which were loudly applauded when he said that "the very necessity of these institutions would cease to exist if men were remunerated for their labour as they ought to be". "Our most holy faith repudiates the spirit of exclusive competition for wealth which marks the present generation." Finally the Rev. E. R. Larken proposed the formation of the Church of England Self-Supporting Village Society. Its aims were defined as for: "promoting the religious, moral and general improvement of the working classes, by forming establishments for three or four hundred families, in which instruction may be allowed, and religious ordinances administered, on the principles of the Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 3,6 W. H . G. ARMYTAGE Church of England, and combining agriculture with manu- facturing employment, for their own benefit." 1,000 acres, and £ 45,000 were wanted, and the Society set about raising it. When Emerson visited England in 1847, he attended one of Morgan's meetings and described the audience as "mainly socialist". Emerson was impressed by the "huge coloured revolving view" with which Morgan explained his views of the future social organisation of the country.1 Morgan was also financing the publication, in this year, or W. C. Walton's Law and other Mystics, together with further extracts from Greaves' journals New Theosophic Revelations and The New Nature in the Soul. V Morgan's own books had meanwhile been having an effect beyond his own efforts. As Canon Raven has shown, they were in the library of J. M. Ludlow, the logistic genius of the Christian Socialist Movement.2 William Cowper, who had presented the petition in 1842 and was one of the speakers at the Exeter Hall meeting in 1846, became an early supporter of the Christian Socialists in association with Thomas Hughes.3 Another of the speakers at the Exeter Hall meeting was James Silk Buckingham 4 who, as we have seen, suggested that the Church of England might begin its operations on Hounslow Heath or Salisbury Plain. Buckingham had been impressed both by Moravian and Shaker experiments and went on to exploit Morgan's ideas in a pamphlet of his own called National Evils and Practical Remedies, published in 1848. This is now recognised as the first complete and concrete scheme for a garden city, the first practical blueprint for a planned town. The very name of this model city - Victoria - was Minter Morgan's. 1 Rusk, The Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1949), p. 352. 2 C. E. Raven, Christian Socialism (1920), p. 140. 3 Writing to Lady Cowper-Temple on 29 October 1888, Thomas Hughes said, "It is all but forty years since we first met in Lincoln's Inn Chapel, in the early days of Christian Socialism, of which movement then so vehemently and widely denounced, he was from the first an avowed and liberal supporter, and from his social and public position, ranked more than all the rest of us put together. Memorials printed for private circulation, 1890, p. 151. 4 Buckingham was not only a pioneer town planner in England (Lewis Mumford, The Culture of Cities, London 1940, p. 394) and the first M. P. for Sheffield, but a pioneer of self-government for the colonies (Cambridge History of the British Empire, Cambridge 1940, ii, p. 405). He was also a notable publicist and founded The Athenaeum, The Sphynx and The Oriental Herald and Colonial Review. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J. M. MORGANS SCHEMES 37 It was to be an iron city with glass-covered streets. "Beershops, Gin palaces, cigar divans, and pawnbrokers", together with gunpowder, were to be prohibited. But what we must admire is his uncanny prognosis of many of the features which we ourselves have come to acknowledge as the very principles of good town planning. Buckingham's ideal town covered a square mile and would house 10,000 people of all classes. He recognized ten categories of workers, and wanted his town to blend both the agricultural and industrial elements in its economy. His streets were to be a hundred feet wide, and they were all to lead somewhere. There were to be no blind alleys which might lead to "the morose defiance of public decency which such secret haunts generate in the inhabitants". In plan it resembled a concentric series of rectangles; the centre of the town to be a large green park, with the main public buildings grouped round it. The houses, themselves in broad avenues, were to be in square belts around this civic centre, till they lapped the great green fringe outside the town itself. In these houses on the outside fringe of the town, nearest the green belt, were to be the workers' dwellings. All the streets were to be covered galleries, to discourage traffic and to keep those travelling to work from the inclemency of the weather. His factory and workshop area coverd 40 acres. To relieve the drabness of his rows of houses, a liberal intermixture of open spaces and parks were suggested. The practicability of the scheme is shown by his intention to launch it by means of a company. This was to have a capital of £ 4,000,000 and would construct the houses to sell at prices ranging from £ 30 to £ 300. The council of the town were to be elected by the shareholders, and in order to prevent anyone obtaining a monopoly, the number of shares to be held was limited. Certain features of his scheme seem surprisingly modern. One was that all married families with children were to have not less than three rooms. Another was that the children should stay at school till they were fifteen years old. Medical service was to be free, with the doctors paid by the community to prevent disease rather than to cure it. Moreover, he suggested that it would be a good thing if as many of the inhabitants as possible took their meals in the large public halls provided for the purpose - a striking forecast of the Civic restaurant. VI After the collapse of the Chartists and the rise of the Christian Socialists, Morgan intensified his efforts to raise £ 50,000 for his Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 38 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE scheme. He issued a collection of his writings in the Phoenix Library.1 But none took him seriously. The Illustrated London News, on 24 August 1850, condemned his project as "dooming men to an oyster-like level of morals and manners" and looking "more like a lunatic asylum than the ordinary abodes of rational men". "It reminds us", continued the Illustrated London News, "of Bridewell, or some contrivance for central inspection, not of the sunny or shady lanes in which the rose and honeysuckle decked cottages of our native land are so happily nestled . . . The idea is obviously borrowed from the unsuccessful efforts of the State to correct the people by bridewells, workhouses and prisons - substituting a gentler kind of control for meagre diet, ships, dungeons and fetters . . . Mr. Morgan does not conceal his desire to organize the "destitute people" and the whole society in Reducations (formal villages) similar to those by which the Jesuits drilled the Indians in Paraguay and made them fit for the despotism and desolation of Dr. Francia." Not only Paraguay, but New Harmony, Snigs End and Icaria were held up as typical examples of what would happen if the non-com- petive, highly regulated society of Morgan's plan was brought into operation.2 Nothing daunted, Morgan proceeded with the publication of his testament, The Triumph, or the Coming Age of Christianity (18 51). This was a collection of enthusiastic supporters of community life from Bacon to Thompson. From our point of view, the most inter- esting extract is that from Whiston's translation of Josephus on the Essenes. Amongst others were Buckingham and Mrs. Martineau on the Shakers, Beattie on the Elysian age and Langford on the age of gold. One of those whom Morgan quoted in this anthology was his friend Robert Pemberton, and it was Pemberton who, in the year before his death, carried his ideas literally a stage further away from reality by publishing The Happy Colony (1854).3 Described as "the result of 1 It is significant that he included his friend Charles Hall's The Effects of Civilisation (1805) in the series. Hall, who died in 1820, was practically unknown till Morgan produced this edition. G. D. H. Cole, op. cit., p. 35. a It should in fairness be said that there were a number of similar schemes in the air. In 1845 a London architect called Moffatt proposed to form an association for the erection of villages within four to ten miles of the metropolis to house 350,000 people at a cost of£ 10,000,000. 8 Pemberton, in this plan, shows himself a disciple of John Minter Morgan, for not only did he quote Morgan in The Happy Colony in 1854 (on page 209) but in his Address of the following year, To the Bishops and Clergy of all denominations and to all Professors and Teachers of the Christian World, he shared Morgan's hope that the established churches would come to his aid in the project. Indeed, he shows his allegiance, by mention- ing Morgan as his friend on page 21 of this work. — Before the Happy Colony, Pemberton Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core J. M. MORGANS SCHEMES 39 twenty years study", The Happy Colony is dedicated "To the Working Men of Great Britain" and divided into three parts: a Philosophical dialogue, an Address to the Workmen of Great Britain, and a de- scription of the "Elysian Academy or Natural University". Two large plates are included in the text. Pemberton intended his colony to be taken seriously, for his book includes a prospectus for its formation. "Why is man not happy?" asked Pemberton, and replied: "the cause is that every child is bred into slavery" The remedy, he continued, was for the workers to found a Happy Colony under the sovereignty of Queen Victoria in an island of the Pacific, "where the land is open and ready to receive the best and most scientific system of dividing and laying it out". This best and most scientific system Pemberton outlined in his Queen Victoria Town - an interesting and novel garden had written three other tracts. The Attributes of the Soul from the Cradle, and the Philosophy of the Divine Mother, Detecting the false basis, or fundamental error of the schools and developing the perfect education of man (i 849); The Natural Methods of Teaching the elements of grammar for the nursery and infant schools (1851); and The Natural Method of Teaching the Technical Language of Anatomy for the Nursery and Infant Schools (1852). — Afterwards he wrote six more: An Address to the Bishops and Clergy of all denominations, and to all professors and teachers of the Christian World, on Robert Owen's proclamation of the millenial state to commence this year (1855); The Infant Drama: a model of the true method of teaching all languages (1857); (a letter by R. Pemberton on his system of teaching languages) 1857; Report of the proceedings at the inauguration of Mr. Pemberton's new Philosophical Model Infant School, for teaching languages on the natural or euphonic system (1857); The Science of Mind Formation, and the reproduction of genius elaborated; involving the remedy for all our social evils (1858); An Address to the people on the necessity of Popular Education, in conjunction with emigration, as a remedy for all our social ills (1859). As might have been expected from these, Pemberton's main interest lay in education. His Address to the Bishops said: "Our present civilisation,under the boarding school system, is obtained at the cost and sacrifice of health, and muscular and nervous energy, producing empty heads and useless hands. All must be genteel, and consequently useless; and every species of useless occupation must be inverted for the educated classes; but the burden of feeding, clothing, and housing this multitude of useless beings falls on the workmen. This state of villainy or corrupt imbecility cannot last. Every child of man is worth all the stars and worlds in the heavens; but every man that is bred to genteel idle- ness, is worse than a savage and does indirectly more mischief to society, by reason that others follow like a flock of sheep, the bad example." As to the future he was very gloomy: "Excess of population in Great Britain will of necessity bring about a dreadful crisis sooner or later. The gentleman-and-lady imbecile education, by which the nation is of necessity governed, combined with our commercial gambling mania, will if continued, produce ruin and destruction to Great Britain." The only tangible result of his labours was the establishment of a school at 33, Euston Square, N.W , opened on 22nd August 1857, where his son Robert Markham and his two daughters, Charlotte Delia and Elizabeth Mary, taught. This school essayed to practise the ideas embodied in his writings. Languages were to be taught by sound. "Sound", he wrote, "will become the giant power that will harmonise the human race." He said that his school possessed a "chromatic barrell organ" to accustom the child to music from birth, and a system of cards for teaching grammar. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 4 0 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE city, planned on circular lines - as opposed to the rectangular fancies of James Silk Buckingham. Pemberton envisaged an inner ring of fifty acres with four colleges, each with conservatories, workshops, swimming baths and riding schools. These were to be surrounded by an outer ring containing the factories, public hospitals and gardens of the community. Outside these again was to be a park; the outer rim of this was to be three miles long in circumference. The whole project was to cradle the new Labour Kingdom based on Creation and Love. Labour was to be the basis of the economic system. "All truths must emanate from the people", Pemberton argued; "the emancipating power must proceed from the labour kingdom". He rejected the contemporary world of his own day as "the germ of every sin and error, and the very root of all corruption, unhappiness and misery in every class of society . . . Wealth is the tyrant of labour and the destroying angel of the happiness of the human race". Unlike Buckingham, who envisaged the establishment of his model city through a joint-stock company, Pemberton proposed to grant plots of land to its occupiers. Just how they were to obtain the capital for the enterprises is left unexplained. VII One of those responsible for convening and presiding over public meetings in the year 1845 w a s t n e Head Constable of Bradford, Titus Salt. He may well have heard Minter Morgan, though as a Congre- gationalist he could not be expected to swallow or follow his idea of making the Church of England the central pivot of a "self supporting village". Indeed, being a Yorkshire manufacturer, he was more likely to make his factory the centre of such an experiment. Yet he could see that Minter Morgan's moral approach to the need for urban reorganisation was justified in the light of evidence given to the Health of Towns Commission in the following year 1846. To this Commission James Smith of Deanston, reporting on Bradford, remarked "it was the most filthy town I visited". He spoke of houses being put up regardless of any place for gardens or sport, crammed into as small a space as possible, and added "if the lower orders have not places where they can engage in sports and keep their minds engaged in matters of that kind, it is the very thing to drive them to chartism". Some of the Christian Socialists, who unconsciously owed so much to Minter Morgan, thought the same. So did several manufacturers. After all, Disraeli had sketched the archetype in Mr. Trafford of Sybil and the Millbanks factory and village in Coningsbj. So when in 1848 Titus Salt became mayor of Bradford and the town was gripped Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core j . M. MORGAN'S SCHEMES 41 by both Chartism and cholera, he began to consider the possibility of such a community for his own employees. In 1850 he consulted the firm of Lockwood and Mason. In 1851 he went up to the Great Exhibition in London (where the Prince Consort's model houses for working men were being exhibited) and made an offer for the Crystal Palace itself, which he intended to use as a weaving shed. This idea had to be abandoned because of the vibration involved in the manu- facturing process which would have broken the glass. Such daring imagination and opportunism had been the key of Titus Salt's career. Born at Morley on the 20 September 1803, he had at- tended the grammar school at Heath before following his father to Bradford as a wooldealer. At that time, his father dealt in Donskoi wool: Titus however, thought of making worsted out of it. And when he could find no one in Bradford who would listen to his suggestion, he decided to set up in the manufacturing business himself. He began in Silsbridge Lane, and by the time he was thirty- three years old, he had four other mills hard at work. That was in 1836. In that same year, he went to Liverpool on a visit. There, in the warehouse, he found three hundred bags of Llama or alpaca wool. Admiring its long staple and sheen, he was quick to appreciate the possibilities of this and bought the whole consignment at 8d. per pound, and began to make alpaca cloth. In 1850 the chimneys of over 200 mills were polluting the air of Bradford. It was a depressing environment in which to work. Titus Salt determined to emancipate his workers from the smoky canopy in which they lived, and made plans to transfer his factories to the valley of the Aire where the London-Glasgow railway and the Leeds and Liverpool canal intersect. At the same time he proposed to build a complete community for the workers in the Salt factories. Thus Saltaire was conceived. Work began in the autumn of 18 51, and within two years, the first part of the model town was finished: the factories and houses. The great congregation which assembled on 20 September 1853 to see the opening of Saltaire was confronted with an amazing sight! Sprawling over ten acres was a huge works, shaped like the letter T. Built in the Italian style, the T was six storeys, or seventy-two feet high. The facade of the building was the top of the T, and it contained on its top floor one of the longest and largest rooms in the world at that time. Great windows of plate glass admitted light into the building, flues admitted fresh air, while noise was eliminated by placing all the machinery under the flooring. This last arrangement was a great novelty at the time, for it not only made for comparative silence, but enabled the weaving rooms to be kept free from dust. The stem of the letter T was formed by the warehouses which ran Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 4 2 W. H. G. ARMYTAGE down towards the canal some hundred years or more away. Special conduits caught the rain water and stored it in tanks, ready to be used by the factory. Linking this great production unit with the outside world were a number of roads. Perhaps the most striking object to those who were seeing it for the first time was the chimney - a huge two hundred and fifty feet shaft built in the style of an Italian bell- tower. Up it passed every day the smoke from fifty tons of coal a day, but little of it escaped at the top, for special smoke burning appliances destroyed its toxicity. The engines, with a combined horse power of three thousand horse power, drove some three miles of shafting. To build this mammoth works, twenty quarries worked full-time for two years, and its solidity, as late as 1876 was described by one proud native as "having no equal in this or any other country". Around this great stone T rose houses of various sizes, also built of stone, each with a kitchen, living room and scullery, a pantry, cellar and at least three bedrooms. In a few years, no less than 800 of these houses sprang up around the factory, covering a further twenty-six acres. Shops, too, lined the well-paved streets, and soon a church (finished in 1859) described as "the most exquisite example of pure Italian architecture in the Kingdom", schools, a Literary Institute, and other social amenities all followed, and all provided by the generosity of Titus Salt. In front of these schools and the Institute were four carved lions, and the story goes that they were designed by Thomas Milnes the sculptor for the base of Nelson's column in Trafalgar Square, but owing to some hitch, the commission was withdrawn and offered to Edwin Landseer, whose lions lie in Trafalgar Square today. Titus Salt saw the four lions made by Milnes, and had them moved to Saltaire. Saltaire might well be described as "an industrial Utopia". It was a man-planned frame, integrating industry, housing and, in time, parks, trout fishing, and boating - indeed all the amenities of which the mind of man could conceive - were provided, except one. For across the boundary of the town was written all beer abandon ye that enter here. For to Titus Salt, as to Morgan and James Silk Buckingham "Drink and Lust" lay at the bottom of all social evils.1 1 R. Balgarnie, Sir Titus Salt; His Life and Lessons (1873). Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:24, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000001036 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_gz73qhkm4rfsnlu246wzptwndq	----	Jmi280231.vp 10.1177/1056492605280231JOURNAL OFMANAGEMENTINQUIRY / June 2006Anderson et al. /MECHANISMS INORGANIZATIONALRESEARCH Understanding Mechanisms in Organizational Research Reflections From a Collective Journey PETER J. J. ANDERSON RUTH BLATT MARLYS K. CHRISTIANSON ADAM M. GRANT University of Michigan CHRISTOPHER MARQUIS Harvard University ERIC J. NEUMAN SCOTT SONENSHEIN KATHLEEN M. SUTCLIFFE University of Michigan Social mechanisms are theoretical cogs and wheels that explain how and why one thing leads to another. Mechanisms can run from macro to micro (e.g., explaining the effects of organizational socialization practices or compensation systems on individual actions), micro to micro (e.g., social comparison processes), or micro to macro (e.g., how cognitively limited persons can be aggregated into a smart bureaucracy). Explanations in organization theory are typically rife with mechanisms, but they are often implicit. In this article, the authors focus on social mechanisms and explore challenges in pursuing a mechanisms approach. They argue that organization theories will be enriched if scholars expend more effort to understand and clarify the social mechanisms at play in their work and move beyond thinking about individual variables and the links between them to considering the bigger picture of action in its entirety. Keywords: social mechanisms; theory building; meso theorizing; organizational research 102 ♦ ♦ ♦ ESSAYS JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY, Vol. 15 No. 2, June 2006 102-113 DOI: 10.1177/1056492605280231 © 2006 Sage Publications Creating a new theory is not like destroying an old barn and erecting a skyscraper in its place. It is rather like climbing a mountain, gaining new and wider views, discovering unexpected connections between our starting point and its rich environment. —Albert Einstein (Einstein & Infeld, 1938) The process of theory building is tricky. Many theo- rists claim that the best way to learn about theory building is to do it (see Lave & March, 1975). In the spring of 2004, we set out to understand better theory construction by taking part in a doctoral seminar enti- tled “Mechanisms of Organized Action.”1 Using the work of Hedström and Swedberg (1998) as a concep- tual starting point, our primary goal was to better appreciate how a mechanisms-based approach can inform our understanding of management and orga- nization theories and theory construction.2 This essay reflects some of what we learned. Social mechanisms are “bits of theory about entities at a different level (e.g., individuals) than the main entities being theorized about (e.g., groups), which serve to make the higher level theory more supple, more accurate, or more general” (Stinchcombe, 1991, p. 367). They are the theoretical “cogs and wheels” that explain why two variables covary (Hernes, 1998, p. 74). Social mechanisms are the explanations of how the components of a theory interrelate (Elster, 1989), a necessary—but in many cases absent—aspect of orga- nizational theories (Sutton & Staw, 1995; Weick, 1989). In this seminar, we asked each other and our guest participants, “What happens when we make explicit the mechanisms that are implicit in organizational research?” Our approach was to broaden our inquiry from the formally enrolled student members of our seminar (first seven authors) and the faculty instructor (Kathleen Sutcliffe) to include 10 of our colleagues: Wayne Baker, Stuart Bunderson, Jerry Davis, Jane Dutton, Mary Ann Glynn, Bob Quinn, Jeffrey Sanchez-Burks, Gretchen Spreitzer, Klaus Weber, and Karl Weick. We invited them to present their research at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan and to make explicit the mechanisms that underlay their theoretical arguments. In the following sections, we describe what we discovered, what intrigued us, what confused us, what surprised us, what blindsided us, what was missing, what was left ambiguous, and what we wanted to know more about. We highlight some of our challenges and pro- pose some questions for researchers who might want to adopt a mechanisms-based approach to research. We argue that all scholars can benefit from thinking in terms of social mechanisms. Organizational explana- tions are typically rife with mechanisms, but they are often implicit. We encourage organizational scholars to make these mechanisms explicit. MECHANISMS AND THEORY BUILDING We view a social mechanism as a process that explains an observed relationship; mechanisms explain how and/or why one thing leads to another: “If a regression tells us about a relation between two variables—for instance, if you wind a watch, it will keep running—mechanisms pry the back off the watch and show how” (Davis & Marquis, in press). A focus on mechanisms enables one to move beyond thinking about individual variables and the specific links between them to considering the bigger picture of action in its entirety. For example, to understand how a watch functions, the important items are not the moving hands or the winding knob but rather the internal cogs and wheels and how they enable the translation from winding a knob into the movement of the watch hands. According to Hernes (1998), mecha- nisms are about “the wheelwork or agency by which an effect is produced. In this way, mechanisms do not merely address what happened but also how it happened” (p. 74). To that end, mechanisms allow us to see beyond the surface-level description of a phenomenon. If we observe two variables, X and Y and some association between them, we know little more than that X and Y are correlated. Does X cause Y? Does Y cause X? Or are we observing a spurious correlation between the two brought about by a third unobserved variable, Z? Answering this question requires one to move beyond studying the X-Y relationship to addressing the ques- tion of why and how the relationship occurs. In other Anderson et al. / MECHANISMS IN ORGANIZATIONAL RESEARCH 103 AUTHORS’ NOTE: The authors are listed alphabetically as all authors contributed equally to this article. We are grateful to Wayne Baker, Stuart Bunderson, Jerry Davis, Jane Dutton, Mary Ann Glynn, Bob Quinn, Jeffrey Sanchez-Burks, Gretchen Spreitzer, Klaus Weber, and Karl Weick for sharing their insights with us and to Brianna Barker for being part of our journey. We also thank members-at-large of the Management & Organizations brown bag community for their ideas and support. words, what is the process underlying the relation- ship? As Weick (1974) put it, mechanisms are about verbs and causal links rather than nouns and variables (see also Sandelands & Drazin, 1989). There is a limit, however, to the generality of mech- anisms. Mechanisms are not like the deterministic laws of physics in which certain inputs lead to certain outputs with no ifs, ands, or buts (Elster, 1998; Hedström & Swedberg, 1998). Instead, mechanisms allow us to address the probabilistic nature of social life, an idea that Coleman (1964) captures nicely with his description of models of social processes as “sometimes-true theory” (p. 516). There are boundary conditions to all social theory, and a mechanisms- based approach helps make these boundaries explicit. As Stuart Bunderson from Washington University remarked during his presentation to us on March 17, 2004, “Clarity about mechanisms allows researchers to consider possible boundary conditions of a rela- tionship and to conduct subsequent empirical tests to evaluate an argument’s validity.” The focus on mechanisms as explanations provides a clear connection to advice on theorizing that organi- zational scholars have offered the field in special issues of the Academy of Management Review (October 1989) and Administrative Science Quarterly (September 1995). An integral goal of theory construction, as described by Weick (1989), is to design a process that highlights relationships, connections, and interdepen- dencies in the phenomenon of interest. Inherent in this explanation is the idea that a theory should make explicit the linkages that connect the input and the output, thereby illuminating the process by which the input is transformed into the output. Sutton and Staw (1995) further expound on this point. They suggest that predicting a relationship is not sufficient for building theory unless that predicted relationship is thoroughly explained. They note, “The key issue is why a particular set of variables are expected to be strong predictors . . . . The logic underlying the por- trayed relationships needs to be spelled out” (p. 376). In their view, strong theory must delve into the under- lying processes to understand the systematic reasons for a particular occurrence or nonoccurrence. The essence of all of these comments is appropriately sum- marized in Sutton and Staw’s assertion that organiza- tional research cannot present theoretical contribu- tions without clearly offering an explanation of the connections among phenomena, a story about why acts, events, structures, and thoughts occur. These ideas are consistent with the etymology of the word explain, which comes from the Latin explanare, which means “to take out the folds, to make something level or even” (Kaplan, 1964, p. 330; Webster’s, 1979). When we speak colloquially of explanations, we ask some- one to tell us how the story unfolds. Focusing on social mechanisms is one way to heed this theory-building advice and delve deeper into the explanations of social phenomenon. Our seminar pre- senters described how focusing on a mechanisms- based approach enabled them to achieve a deeper level of theorizing. Gretchen Spreitzer, in describing her work with Bob Quinn on March 31, 2004, said, “Thinking about mechanisms helped us to make the implicit more explicit in our work. It helped us uncover important patterns that we had not seen before.” Similarly, Mary Ann Glynn (March 29, 2004) explained, “One of the utilities of a mechanism-based approach to organization theory is that it enables you to articulate the causal linkages.” To see how uncovering mechanisms leads to better and deeper theorizing, suppose we have strong rea- sons to believe that X causes Y. Figure 1 visually repre- sents this relationship. Yet a larger question looms: Why does X cause Y? The answer may more closely resemble the model in Figure 2, pictured here as it unfolds. This second model still shows that X leads to Y but suggests that the transition from X to Y is not as smooth and straightforward as initially believed. Instead, there are extra kinks in the initial, unex- plained effect, suggesting some of the inner workings, mechanisms to relating X and Y. The end result is a model that still represents a causal relationship between X and Y, but unlike the first (Figure 1), it is explicit in the mechanisms of how X causes Y. An explicit focus on understanding the relationships involved between X and Y often results in a deeper level of theorizing than just focusing on each of those variables or simply their association. MECHANISMS IN ORGANIZATION STUDIES Jerry Davis (March 3, 2004) asserted that organiza- tion studies are uniquely suited to mechanisms-based theorizing and that organizational scholarship will benefit from more such theorizing. As he noted, col- lective action (e.g., a social movement, an organiza- tional decision, or contagion of an idea in a popula- tion) normally requires thinking through the link from individual to collective processes. Mechanisms enable 104 JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY / June 2006 us to understand how the individual pieces ultimately result in the collective outcome. For example, Davis noted that March and Simon’s (1958) explanation of hierarchy in terms of bounded rationality serves as a masterful example of mechanisms-based theorizing. They began with a question about how cognitively limited individuals are able to accomplish ends greater than their individual abilities and efforts would suggest. They argued that this occurs through the differentiation of subunits into bite-sized chunks and the artful reaggregation of those chunks via hier- archy. Thus, the transformation of atomistic action into complex organization is explained through two mechanisms: differentiation and aggregation. Identi- fying these two processes gives researchers and man- agers insight into the mechanisms through which individuals accomplish collective action. Like the X and Y example (see Figure 1), a theory based only on the individual inputs or the organizational output would be, to quote Stinchcombe (1991), “less supple, less accurate and less general” (p. 367) than a theory that considered the underlying mechanisms. Karl Weick (December 10, 2003) provocatively opened our class with a dictionary definition of mech- anisms using machine imagery. He then proposed that such an approach to understanding mechanisms in organizational research might lead scholars to over- look the importance of so-called disciplined imagina- tion in their theorizing. To guide our exploration of mechanisms in organizational studies, Weick recom- mended a taxonomy developed by Hedström and Swedberg (1998) that focuses on three different types of social mechanisms (see Figure 3): situational, action-formation, and tranformational. Those mecha- nisms that explain the influence of macro forces on more microlevel phenomena are situational mecha- nisms. Those that operate solely at the micro level linking cognition to behavior are action-formation mechanisms. Finally, those that describe how microlevel factors a ff ect the macro l evel are transformational mechanisms. We found this multi- level, macro-to-micro, micro-to-micro, micro-to- macro, bathtub-shaped model quite useful for explor- ing the topic. Because we situated our analyses of mechanisms in organizational studies, we see the micro-macro distinction as relative. For example, under our conception, a corporation could be a macro force operating on individuals at the micro level; the corporation could also be an actor at a micro level, and the macro influence might therefore be an organiza- tional field, country, or even geographic community. Anderson et al. / MECHANISMS IN ORGANIZATIONAL RESEARCH 105 X Y Figure 1: Simple depiction of X causing Y X Y X Y Figure 2: Unfolding the macrolevel effect into its microlevel components We illustrate the Hedström and Swedberg model with examples from our presenters at both the organiza- tional and individual levels of analysis. Two of our presenters employed situational mecha- nisms, describing macro influences on more micro behaviors. Klaus Weber (March 24, 2004) explained how national cultures influence the public self- presentation strategies that biotech companies use in Germany and the United States. He described ecologi- cal fit as an important mechanism that determines the cultural resources on which firms draw (i.e., how firms in different locations face different problems that lead them to utilize different cultural tools; Weber, 2003). Jeffrey Sanchez-Burks (April 14, 2004) demon- strated the connection between national culture and individual behavior in organizations. As a mecha- nism, he described how relational schemas (i.e., expectations of what should happen in a specific situ- ation) develop in different cultures and are then reflected in how individuals approach social situa- tions. For example, the protestant relational ideology, a dominant relational schema in the United States, leads individuals to eschew relational concerns at work (Sanchez-Burks, 2002). Other presenters provided examples of action- formation mechanisms whereby the beliefs and opportunities of a social actor generate individual action. Wayne Baker (March 10, 2004) discussed mech- anisms of network diffusion (Baker & Faulkner, 2003, 2004). One of the examples he raised, operating at the organizational level, was the diffusion of corporate governance practices among large U.S. companies (Davis, 1991). Davis found that the social mechanism influencing the adoption of governance practices was social cohesion: The closer a focal actor’s connection to a prior adopter, the greater the likelihood of adoption. Presumably, this is a result of the focal firm’s uncer- tainty and information sharing among connected firms. Jane Dutton, Gretchen Spreitzer, and Bob Quinn all discussed action-formation mechanisms at the individual level. For example, Roberts, Dutton, Spreitzer, Heaphy, and Quinn (in press) theorize about the relationship between receiving positive feedback about the self and identity change. They write that the process of collecting self-relevant feed- back from diverse others highlights capacities that individuals are not aware that they possess. This awareness of new capacities nourishes positive shifts in identity and enables individuals to draw on these capacities as they carry out their work. Finally, some of our presenters also illustrated transformational mechanisms whereby processes at the micro level lead to change at the macro level. Mary Ann Glynn explained how and why organizational names have changed from colonial times to the pres- ent (Glynn & Abzug, 2002). In examining these changes, it was found that an important mechanism was a legitimacy threshold: Name changes increase dramatically after a tipping point has been reached in the prevalence of types of names. For example, in the 106 JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY / June 2006 Situational Mechanisms Action-Formation Mechanisms Transformational Mechanisms Macro Level: Contextual factors such as organizations, organizational fields, and nations Micro Level: Actors such as individuals or organizations Figure 3: Adaptation of Hedström and Swedberg’s mechanism model Source: Hedström and Swedberg (1998). 1980s, there were many changes to acronym-based names as a result of corporate mergers and acquisi- tions. After the number of these changes passed a cer- tain threshold, Glynn argued that these names began to define legitimacy, and even firms that had not undergone mergers adopted acronym-based names. Finally, speaking of the individual level, Bunderson (2003) described how individuals’ functional back- grounds influence the structure of social networks. He found that one mechanism by which individual func- tional background influences networks is that it increases expert power that enables experienced indi- viduals to cross boundaries, communicate with others, and become more central in a group. We found Hedström and Swedberg’s (1998) typol- ogy of mechanisms—situational, action-formation, and transformational—to be a tractable framework for identifying and making explicit the mechanisms inherent in a theory. The multilevel nature of the model forced us to think more rigorously about how certain theories might apply to multiple levels of anal- ysis and about the potential boundary conditions of a mechanisms approach. In our next section, we describe the key themes that emerged as challenges to a mechanisms-based approach to theorizing. CHALLENGES OF A MECHANISMS-BASED THEORY OF ORGANIZING We present three recurring themes from our discus- sions and offer recommendations on how to use mech- anisms productively in organizational research. First, we address what we have come to call the stopping rule, a set of guidelines for determining when to stop looking for new mechanisms. Second, we discuss the challenge of addressing the dynamics of mechanisms and processes that occur over time. Finally, we explore linkages between mechanisms-based work and managerial practice. The Stopping Rule Mechanisms-based research calls for investigators to push their theory beyond stating that X causes Y to understanding the processes by which X causes Y. However, as Kaplan (1964) writes, no matter what explanation one has provided, there exist new rela- tionships to be elucidated: “There is always some- thing else to be explained . . . . Explanations, like con- cepts and laws, have a certain openness; in particular, every explanation is ‘intermediate,’ in the sense that it contains elements which are to be explained in turn” (pp. 340-341). Thus, mechanisms, although designed to provide answers, tend to raise additional questions. Each time they discover an answer to one research question, scholars face many new questions. Why? How? When? For whom? Under what conditions? For example, in his discussion of network processes of diffusion, Wayne Baker described how structural equivalence (i.e., holding the same network position as others) is one of the mechanisms of diffusion. We speculated that it might be fruitful to push the expla- nation further to understand the processes that under- lie structural equivalence. We considered social com- parison as a possible mechanism underlying the structural equivalence mechanism: Individuals look to others for information about how to act (Festinger, 1954). We could push this explanation still further, delving into the cognitive processes that result in social comparison, or perhaps even deeper into the neurological processes that underlie these cognitive processes. To understand network diffusion, where and when does it make sense to stop explaining? Is it network position, social psychological processes such as social comparison, or cognitive processes? Facing these questions, scholars concerned with mechanisms may experience a tyranny of freedom (Schwartz, 2000). There is no limit to the number of available research questions and explanations, and few guidelines exist for choosing which of these ques- tions to ask and answer. How do scholars know when to stop searching for explanations or mechanisms and say, “That’s enough!”? To address where and when to stop, we have distilled advice from our presenters and the mechanisms literature into three recommendations. Look to the boundaries of existing literature. Perhaps the most straightforward stopping rule implores scholars to ask, “What does the field already know?” and then forge one step beyond it. Klaus Weber described how existing literature should guide us to understand where to stop and where to continue searching for explanations. He drew on Kuhn’s (1996) discussion of the incremental process of scientific dis- covery and how many advances are based on elabo- rating and refining previous work. For example, he discussed how the concept of legitimacy was once seen as a key mechanism of isomorphism in new insti- tutional theory. However, as legitimacy became rela- tively accepted, scholars began pushing to under- Anderson et al. / MECHANISMS IN ORGANIZATIONAL RESEARCH 107 stand the conditions and boundaries of legitimacy, and so the next logical question focused on unpacking the mechanisms that underlie legitimacy. Weber sug- gested that an examination of current boundaries pro- vides direction about opportunities to ask the next questions of why and how. Investigate contiguous levels of analysis. According to Hackman’s (2003) bracketing decision rule, scholars should investigate one level above and one level below their focal phenomena. If a researcher is inter- ested in understanding individual behavior, the key mechanisms may reside in group structures and pro- cesses (one level above) and in individual cognitions and emotions (one level below). This rule is construc- tive in guiding scholars to invest time and energy in the questions closest to their areas of expertise. For example, Hackman describes the value of bracketing in discovering important mechanisms in a study of motivation in orchestra groups amidst changing gen- der composition. A focal phenomenon of interest was the motivation of orchestra groups, which declined significantly as the prevalence of women in the tradi- tionally male groups increased. In search of mecha- nisms, the researchers looked upward to the orchestra culture and downward to individual actors. At the organizational level, the degree to which the orches- tra’s cultural norms approved or disapproved of women was an important influence on how members reacted to the entrance of women. At the individual level, men reacted considerably more negatively to these gender composition changes than did women. Thus, both individual-level and cultural factors helped to explain why group motivation decreased as women entered the orchestra groups. Another example is Marquis’s (2003) study of the social network structure of 51 U.S. communities, which investigated why communities established ear- lier are more likely to have cohesive networks. Previ- ous explanations for this phenomenon focused on local cultural factors relating to the upper class (Kono, Palmer, Friedland, & Zafonte, 1998). Alternatively, by exploring mechanisms at a lower level of analysis (in this case, the individual organizations that compose the community networks), Marquis found that the pattern is maintained by new entrants to the system imitating other local actors. The bracketing rule also comes with limitations along with the advantages. Questions of what consti- tutes an appropriate level may remain ambiguous. If a researcher believes that a culture has prescribed a par- ticular set of norms, to which culture should the researcher turn—group culture, department culture, organizational culture, local community culture, regional culture, or even national culture? Know yourself. In making stopping decisions, schol- ars must consider their own interests and skills. Our assumptions about the world shape our interests toward particular questions and types of explanations (Bannister, 1966; Kelly, 1955; Little, 1972). We may find ourselves most engaged and satisfied if we pursue those questions that we find inherently fascinating (Holland, 1996; Ryan & Deci, 2000). Regarding skills, scholars may be particularly adept at answering cer- tain questions, employing particular methods, and explaining certain phenomena. Other questions, methods, and phenomena may not fit scholars’ strengths. For example, the network diffusion studies we examined focus on network factors such as cohe- sion and structural equivalence rather than psycho- logical processes that underlie these mechanisms. We suspect that one reason for this focus is that these mechanisms fit the interests and strengths of the network researchers. Another aspect of knowing oneself that may help scholars determine when and where to stop consists of clarifying the objectives of the research. Are scholars hoping to develop descriptive, prescriptive, and/or interpretive conclusions? Are they seeking to under- stand a specific independent variable or a particular dependent variable? Are they asking questions and discovering answers directed at making a difference in practice? In a given research project, a scholar may be more concerned with some of these objectives than others. Certain questions and explanations may be well suited to achieving these objectives. As such, identifying the objectives of their research projects may facilitate scholars’ efforts to decide when and where to stop. Temporal Processes Beyond the stopping rule, we encountered a second challenge in applying the Hedström and Swedberg (1998) framework in our research: Things become more complicated when one considers that organizational processes unfold and change over time. In considering dynamic processes, the categorization of mechanisms into situational, action-formation, and transformational mechanisms forces the theorist to freeze the process in question at a certain point in time and does not allow 108 JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY / June 2006 room for mechanisms at each stage to change. For example, when Jane Dutton presented her research on the organizing of compassion on April 7, 2004, she presented a model comprising three stages: activa- tion, mobilization, and acceleration (Dutton, Worline, Frost, & Lilius, 2004). When her theory was applied to the Hedström and Swedberg framework, however, she commented that much of the dynamism in the process of organizing was lost. Moreover, she reflected that fitting the model into the framework forced her to focus on the parts of the process at the expense of the dynamic unfolding whole. Thus, although advantageous at times for illuminating new patterns and questions, Hedström and Swedberg’s model may not be applicable to all mechanisms and may ironically induce a kind of reductionism that causes scholars to lose sight of the whole. In considering frameworks that may better account for dynamic processes that unfold over time, we found Barley and Tolbert’s (1997) structuration frame- work to be a constructive alternative to the Hedström and Swedberg (1998) approach. The Barley and Tolbert framework describes a generic model for the relationship between institutions and actions, describ- ing an ongoing process of how institutions constrain action and how action in turn both maintains and modifies the institutions that constrain it. Importantly, this process unfolds over time. Figure 4 is a modified version of Barley and Tolbert’s model that incorpo- rates Hedström and Swedberg’s typology of mecha- nisms. The vertical arrows denote situational mecha- nisms that account for how macro forces such as institutions influence micro action. The diagonal arrows represent how micro action modifies or main- tains the macro influences that constrain it. The pro- cess unfolds over time, allowing for the mechanisms to change over time and accounting for changes in either the constraining context or the action-formation mechanisms, both of which are represented on the horizontal axes. Thus, the Barley and Tolbert frame- work allows for numerous cycles of situational, action-formation, and transformational mechanisms that unfold over time and occur in the context of inter- actions. Rather than focusing on a particular type of social mechanism at a particular moment in time (a snapshot approach to organizing), their framework explains social phenomena as continuous processes entailing successive interactions from the macro to the micro and then back to the macro. Linking to Practice Thus far, much of this essay has focused on how a mechanisms-based approach can makes the explana- tions in a theory more explicit. A continual challenge for management theorists, however, is to contribute to management practice. Inspired by Spreitzer and Quinn’s presentation, we were challenged to consider the role of mechanisms in facilitating conversations between theorists and practitioners. The issue of bridging the gap between theory and practice is becoming increasingly relevant; indeed the theme of the 2004 Academy of Management meeting was “Cre- ating Actionable Knowledge.” Scholars have written for decades about understanding the relationship between theory and practice, and we are mindful that our field lacks consensus about the relationship. Some scholars believe that theory ought to inform and be informed by practice (e.g., Lewin, 1951; Rynes, Bartunek, & Daft, 2001), whereas others believe that theory serves an entirely different and incommensu- rate function from that of practice (e.g., Sandelands, 1990). As we continued to consider mechanisms, we real- ized that a deeper understanding of mechanisms might be one way to better translate organizational theories into managerial action. Bridging the divide between theorists and practitioners is no simple task. Weick (2003) claims that the key criticisms that practi- tioners make of theorists is that they “comment on practice but elide context, overlook constraints, take the wrong things for granted, overestimate control, presume unattainable ideals, underestimate dyna- mism, or translate comprehensible events into incom- prehensible variables” (p. 453). Mechanisms, because they are situated in context and have clear boundary conditions, seem ideally suited to begin to address this concern. There are several areas in which our presenters found mechanisms to be helpful for managers. For example, according to Spreitzer and Quinn, both experienced executive education instructors, students desire to know under what conditions a strategy will succeed and when it will not. By providing explicit explanations and isolating those elements that can be manipulated to change outcomes, mechanisms may be one key to translating theory into action. More con- cretely, mechanisms may allow people to see how they can travel from X to Y and allow them to recognize Anderson et al. / MECHANISMS IN ORGANIZATIONAL RESEARCH 109 what exactly they need to do to set the process in motion. For example, the displeasure with total qual- ity management following its initial success resulted from the way that top management mandated its implementation without offering clear explanations to middle management about how it really worked (Hackman & Wageman, 1995). In this instance, even if the theory is not important to the implementation itself, the detailed cogs and wheels that translate X into Y may be essential for managers to understand and believe in the efficacy of the programs. CONCLUSION We began this essay by accentuating the impor- tance of mechanisms in the theory-building process. We described the benefits of mechanisms in terms of seeing new relationships and advancing our capabili- ties to predict and understand the social world. We discussed the challenges of applying mechanisms in organizational research and presented approaches to transforming these challenges into opportunities, including how these can even help us connect better with more practice-oriented audiences. As noted, our initial goal was to understand how studying mechanisms would help us build better the- ory by focusing more explicitly on explanations. An unexpected byproduct was that we learned even more about the scholarship of our colleagues and bolstered our broad research community. In addition, we real- ized that studying the mechanisms that underlie one’s existing work also opens new research opportunities. Our presenters noted that a focus on mechanisms helped them develop new insights and research ques- tions. This point was perhaps best explained by Stuart Bunderson: A consideration of mechanisms might suggest the next interesting question for my work. For example, in studying the relationship between team functional diversity and team process/performance [Bunderson & Sutcliffe, 2002a, 2002b], we recognized that we (and others in this domain of research) were making an assumption about how member expertise was being combined to affect a team’s decision. Specifically, we were assuming that each member’s expertise was equally weighted. While this was perhaps a service- able assumption in that particular study, it is clearly a questionable assumption since intra-group involve- ment and influence may not be (and very likely is not) purely democratic. This led to a follow-up study in which I explicitly examined how member differences in functional background can lead to different levels of intra-group involvement and influence [see Bunderson, 2003]. 110 JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY / June 2006 Situational mechanisms Transformational mechanisms time time 2 time 3 time 1 Action Formation Realm Situational mechanisms Transformational mechanisms Situational mechanisms Contextual Realm Figure 4: Adaptation of Barley and Tolbert’s structuration model Source: Barley and Tolbert (1997). Thus, although our stopping rule raises cautions about becoming mired in deeper and deeper ques- tions, pushing the boundaries of one’s assumptions and explanations can be generative, leading to research paths previously not considered. Another theme that arose from our discussions was that focusing on mechanisms makes the socially con- structed nature of research more explicit. Some of our previous recommendations prescribed that scholars should look for mechanisms that fit them and that much remains left open to individuals’ definitions when choosing levels of analysis. That we have choices as scholars in deciding among mechanisms that interest us may introduce an arbitrariness into scholarship that makes research, at least partially, a process of creation. For example, we can opt to eluci- date one set of mechanisms while ignoring another set. By focusing on one mechanism to the exclusion of others, we create research streams that may only par- tially explain a phenomenon. From our perspective, one benefit of an explicit treatment of mechanisms is to make more explicit our role in the creation of the social world. Revealing the logic that guides our choices in variable selection and hypothesis formula- tion, which often is only implicit in scholarly work, shows the reader which part of the social world we chose to explain. We can make the story of creation crisper and surface our role in that story: These are the assumptions of my story and the conditions under which my theory works, and this is what I overlooked and why. This essay, much like mechanisms themselves, may have raised more questions than answers. We believe that grappling with these questions will constitute a fruitful journey for organizational scholars in the theory-building process. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1850) wrote, “Here is the world, sound as a nut, per- fect, not the smallest piece of chaos left, never a stitch nor an end, not a mark of haste, or botching, or second thought; but the theory of the world is a thing of shreds and patches.” We hope that our insights will c o n t r i b u t e t o t h e s e w i n g o f n e w p a t c h e s b y reinvigorating existing conversations and inspiring new conversations among organizational researchers. NOTES 1. The course syllabus is available at https://coursetools .ummu.umich.edu/2004/winter/ob/899/001.nsf 2. After an introductory session on mechanism-based theory, the seminar convened twice a week for 7 weeks. One session per week involved a presentation by an invited researcher or team, followed by a more extensive discussion with the scholars of the assigned readings and topic, and then a focused discussion of the mechanisms in the work. Because we also wanted to extend our thinking about each of the topics that we considered, we reconvened a second time to elaborate our ideas. Between the two sessions, we were charged with the task of developing our ideas on how the mechanisms had been applied in the scholar ’s work and how this exercise added to our emerging knowledge on mechanisms in the theories discussed and in general. We hoped that a broader but also more refined picture of mecha- nisms would emerge as the weeks progressed. REFERENCES Baker, W. E., & Faulkner, R. R. (2003). 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ANDERSON is a doctoral student in Management & Orga- nizations at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan. His research emphasizes alternative ways to view leadership, particularly how leadership can be viewed as a process in which multiple members of a group or team can share. RUTH BLATT is a Ph.D. candidate in Management & Organizations at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan. Her research interests are in how individuals proactively create conditions for excellence in their work lives, particularly when they have weak contractual, physical, or psychological attachments to organizations. She also studies the rela- tional bases for organizing under conditions of transience and dynamism. MARLYS K. CHRISTIANSON is a Ph.D. student in Management & Organizations at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michi- gan. Her research focuses on how organizational structures and practices build capabilities within organizations. Topics of interest include mindful- ness, resilience, coordination of work, well-being, and thriving at work. ADAM M. GRANT is a doctoral student in organizational psychology at the University of Michigan. His research, funded by the National Science Foundation, focuses on designing work contexts to motivate employees to care about the welfare of other people. He examines the ways in which the relational properties of jobs, organizational cultures, and work environ- ments spark the motivation to make a positive difference in others’ lives and how this motivation makes a difference in employees’ lives. Specific areas of interest include work motivation, job design, prosocial behavior, and well- being. CHRISTOPHER MARQUIS, Ph.D., is an assistant professor in the Organizational Behavior unit at the Harvard Business School. His research focuses on how organizational behavior is historically contingent 112 JOURNAL OF MANAGEMENT INQUIRY / June 2006 and how environmental conditions during founding periods leave a lasting imprint on organizations. He has examined the effects of these historical processes in the context of community-based social networks and 20th cen- tury U.S. banking. ERIC J. NEUMAN is a doctoral candidate in Management & Organiza- tions at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan. His research focuses on how organizations operate within and are influenced by legal and political systems. SCOTT SONENSHEIN is a doctoral candidate in Management & Orga- nizations at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan. His research interests include interpretive approaches to organizing, the role of language in organizations, and business ethics. KATHLEEN M. SUTCLIFFE is a professor of management and organiza- tions at the Ross School of Business at the University of Michigan. Her cur- rent research focuses on processes associated with team and organizational learning and resilience, high-reliability organizing, and investigation of the social and organizational underpinnings of medical mishaps. Her pub- lications include two books and numerous articles. 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work_gzsofkghjnc7ved74grriyytg4	----	Archived at the Flinders Academic Commons: http://dspace.flinders.edu.au/dspace/ ‘This is the peer reviewed version of the following article: Wilson, A. M., Withall, E., Coveney, J., Meyer, S. B., Henderson, J., McCullum, D., … Ward, P. R. (2016). A model for (re)building consumer trust in the food system. Health Promotion International, 32(6), 988–1000. https:// doi.org/10.1093/heapro/daw024 which has been published in final form at https://doi.org/10.1093/heapro/daw024 This manuscript version is made available per the publisher's Author self-archiving policy. Copyright © The Authors 2016. Published by Oxford University Press. All rights reserved. http://dspace.flinders.edu.au/dspace/ 1 A model for (re)building consumer trust in the food system Annabelle M Wilsona, Elizabeth Withalla, John Coveneya, Samantha B Meyerb, Julie Hendersonc, Dean McCullumd, Trevor Webbe, Paul R Warda aDiscipline of Public Health, School of Health Sciences, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia bSchool of Public Health and Health Systems, University of Waterloo, Ontario, Canada cSchool of Nursing and Midwifery, Flinders University, Adelaide, SA, Australia dFood Safety and Nutrition branch, SA Health, Government of South Australia, Adelaide, SA, Australia eFood Standards Australia New Zealand, Canberra, ACT, Australia Email addresses: Annabelle Wilson: annabelle.wilson@flinders.edu.au Elizabeth Withall: liz.withall@flinders.edu.au John Coveney: john.coveney@flinders.edu.au Samantha Meyer: samantha.meyer@uwaterloo.ca Julie Henderson: julie.henderson@flinders.edu.au Dean McCullum: dean.mccullum@health.sa.gov.au Trevor Webb: trevor.webb@foodstandards.gov.au Paul Ward: paul.ward@flinders.edu.au Corresponding author: Dr Samantha Meyer School of Public Health and Health Systems, University of Waterloo, 200 University Ave West, Ontario, Canada N2L 3G1 Email: samantha.meyer@uwaterloo.ca Phone: +1 519 888 4567 ex 39187 mailto:annabelle.wilson@flinders.edu.au mailto:liz.withall@flinders.edu.au mailto:john.coveney@flinders.edu.au mailto:samantha.meyer@uwaterloo.ca mailto:julie.henderson@flinders.edu.au mailto:dean.mccullum@health.sa.gov.au mailto:trevor.webb@foodstandards.gov.au mailto:paul.ward@flinders.edu.au mailto:samantha.meyer@uwaterloo.ca 2 Funding This work was supported by an Australian Research Council Linkage Grant (LP120100405) and by industry partners SA Health and Food Standards Australia New Zealand (FSANZ). Acknowledgements The authors would like to acknowledge Sian Calnan and Sue Lloyd who undertook data collection in the United Kingdom. We would also like to acknowledge Professor Michael Calnan and Professor Martin Caraher for their input into the research design and delivery and Professor Anthony Elliott who contributed to the grant application. A model for (re)building consumer trust in the food system Abstract The paper presents a best practice model that can be utilised by food system actors to assist with (re)building trust in the food system, before, during and after a food incident defined as ‘any situation within the food supply chain where there is a risk or potential risk of illness or confirmed illness or injury associated with the consumption of a food or foods’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2012). Interviews were undertaken with 105 actors working within the media, food industry and food regulatory settings across Australia, New Zealand (NZ) and the United Kingdom (UK). Interview data produced strategy statements which indicated participant views on how to (re)build consumer trust in the food system. These included: 1. be transparent, 2. have protocols and procedures in place, 3. be credible, 4. be proactive, 5. put consumers first, 6. collaborate with stakeholders, 7. be consistent, 8. educate stakeholders and consumers, 9. build your reputation and 10. keep your promises. A survey 3 was designed to enable participants to indicate their agreement/disagreement with the ideas, rate their importance and provide further comment. The five strategies considered key to (re)building consumer trust were used to develop a model demonstrating best practice strategies for (re)building consumer trust in the food system before, during and after a food incident. In a world where the food system is increasingly complex, strategies for (re)building and fostering consumer trust are important. This study offers a model to do so which is derived from the views and experiences of actors working across the food industry, food regulation and the media. Key words Food, trust, food regulator, food industry, media, food incident INTRODUCTION The food system has changed dramatically over the past few decades as the result of increased technical advances, globalisation in the supply and demand of food, changes in demographics, and in response to major social changes in the home and the workplace. Consequently, the disconnect between consumers and their food is greater (Meyer et al., 2012) and most consumers are reliant on a range of actors within the food system to access safe food. Of central importance to our research are the times when consumer trust in the food system is broken. Indeed, there are many opportunities for things to go ‘wrong’ in the food system, given the increasing complexity of modern-day food production, procurement and distribution. A consequence of this complexity has been an increase in, or at least an increased awareness of, food incidents. The research presented herein sought to work with actors in the food system to develop strategies to (re)build consumer trust before, during and after food incidents. 4 Food incidents are defined as ‘any situation within the food supply chain where there is a risk or potential risk of illness or confirmed illness or injury associated with the consumption of a food or foods’ (Commonwealth of Australia, 2012). Examples include the Fonterra infant formula incident in China and New Zealand in 2014 and the Bovine Spongiform Encephalopathy (BSE) crisis in the UK in 1996. In this paper we also identify ‘food incidents’ as events which may not pose a risk of illness or injury to consumers but are situations where consumers feel that they have been deceived by the food system (for example the 2014 horsemeat scandal in the UK and Europe). These incidents, despite not necessarily posing direct risks to consumer health, may negatively impact consumer trust in the food system and therefore warrant investigation as part of this issue. Food incidents have previously been shown to affect consumer trust in the food supply (Sarpong, 2014) which can then influence consumer behaviour, for example, consumption of beef decreased after the BSE food incident in the UK and across Europe in the late 1990s (Mazzocchi et al., 2008). The management of food incidents have been explored within the literature (Berg, 2004, Jensen, 2004, Grebe, 2013, Jacob, 2011), including identification of actions which have assisted or hindered consumer trust following a food incident. Good management of food incidents is important, as it has been shown that effective communication and incident management can minimise the losses of trust and confidence that can parallel food incidents (Jacob, 2011). Strategies that have previously been reported to facilitate good management of food incidents, and/ or crisis management of similar situations, include timely public communication, acknowledgment of risks (real and consumer-perceived), control of related stigma (Jacob, 2011), an apologetic and accommodative approach (Grebe, 2013) and 5 informing the public, including providing information about how food risks are being identified, prevented and managed (Cope et al., 2010). Three broad groups of key actors have been shown to be important in influencing consumer trust in food and managing food incidents namely the media, food regulators, and the food industry. The media are an important source of information for consumers about food (Lupton, 2004), however the media have also been reported by consumers as decreasing their trust in the food system (Henderson et al., 2012). The media may contribute to public anxiety about food risk and may be a poor source of food risk information (Henderson et al., 2014a). Investigating how the media seek to influence consumer trust in the food supply, especially during times of food incidents, is therefore important to the maintenance of trust in food regulation. Response to food incidents requires coordinated action between a number of systems, including food regulatory bodies and the food industry. Previous evidence from the UK and Europe has suggested that food authorities and government expert messages are not trusted by consumers (Poppe and Kjaernes, 2003, Coombes, 2005). While Australian consumers have been found to be generally trusting of food regulatory systems, few could identify or name the national and local bodies responsible for maintaining the safety of the food supply (Henderson et al., 2010), choosing instead to trust the food regulatory system until a food incident undermines this trust (Henderson, Ward, Coveney and Meyer, 2012). As such, trust in the food system in Australia is contingent on ongoing success in monitoring food risks and is vulnerable to a major food incident. Food regulatory bodies are instrumental in the prevention and management of food incidents, suggesting that they play a crucial role in influencing consumer perceptions of risk during food incidents; which have been shown to 6 influence consumer intention to purchase food (Mazzocchi, Lobb, Bruce Traill and Cavicchi, 2008). The food industry is also vital to the prevention and management of food incidents. Previous food incidents have demonstrated the economic losses that the food industry can suffer as a result of food incidents (Smith et al., 1988, Bakhtavoryan et al., 2014), demonstrating one element of the motivation to ensure good prevention and management. Our previous research identified that systematic investigation of the mechanisms and strategies used by the media, food regulatory and food industry organisations to (re)build consumer trust in food was required. Consumers appeared to exhibit 'blind faith' in the food system rather than active reflection about the safety of the food supply (Henderson et al., 2011, Meyer et al., 2008, Ward et al., 2012), leaving them vulnerable to exploitation since they are not empowered to question the sources of information offered to them (Henderson, Coveney and Ward, 2010). A lack of reflection may contribute to loss of trust in regulation if a food incident occurs. Therefore identifying ways in which organisations can develop, maintain and re-build active trusting relationships with consumers, so that consumers can become more active reflectors, was deemed important. Consumer trust in food has been shown to be influenced by the media (Henderson, Coveney, Ward and Taylor, 2011, Henderson, 2010), and depend in part on the trust consumers have in authorities (including the food industry and food regulators) that provide information about food risks (Grunert, 2002). Given the role that these actors play in (re)building consumer trust, it was deemed important to investigate how trust is developed. This was supported by individuals from the food industry and food regulator settings involved in the research who, from a practical point of view, wanted a tool to use with consumers to maximise trust before a during a food incident. However, there is little reported in the literature about how these actors facilitate consumer trust in the food system. In particular, there is a lack of practical information about 7 strategies that can be used to (re)build consumer trust, especially in the context of food incidents. This study sought to identify how the media, food regulators and the food industry respond to food incidents and how consumer trust in food can be (re)built in the context of such incidents, recognising the importance that each group of actors plays in responding to and managing food incidents. This paper will provide an evidence based model which identifies the key elements of (re)building consumer trust in the food supply. This model can be used as a tool for use by individuals in the food system for addressing the issue of consumer distrust. MATERIALS AND METHODS Phase 1 Interviews In 2013, interviews were conducted with participants from Australia, NZ, and the UK. One researcher conducted interviews in Australia and NZ and two researchers conducted interviews in the UK. Interviewers used a semi-structured interview guide and met regularly through Skype during data collection to ensure consistency in approach and questioning. All interview participants gave written, informed consent prior to their interview. They also provided their email addresses so that they could receive results and be contacted for the next phase of the study. Interviews were conducted face to face or over the telephone, depending on what was most convenient for the participant. The interviews ranged from 30-60 minutes in length depending on how much information the participant had to share. The interviews explored how participants would respond to a hypothetical scenario of a food incident and also asked some general questions about (re)building consumer trust in the food system. Further details of the methods for these interviews have been reported elsewhere <removed for blind peer review>. 8 Recruitment Participants were actors from the media, food industry or food regulatory areas who had experience in reporting, managing or responding to food incidents. Participants were recruited using purposive sampling (Patton, 2002) by the research team. Members of the research team and their contacts suggested individuals who would be suitable to interview, based on their experience in reporting, responding to and managing food incidents. These individuals were invited to participate through email. If a response was not received the email was followed up with a phone call. A sampling strategy was developed to ensure that participants working in a variety of areas within media, food regulation and the food industry were included. Data analysis Interviews were transcribed verbatim and transcripts were de-identified and imported into NVivo 10.0 (QRS Doncaster, Victoria). For each actor and country, interview data were coded into key themes by one researcher using the phases of thematic analysis: familiarizing yourself with the data, generating initial codes, searching for themes, reviewing themes, defining and naming themes and producing the report (Braun and Clarke, 2006). Initial codes were generated using two methods: (1) from areas of interest identified by the research team based on previous research (Meyer, Coveney, Henderson, Ward and Taylor, 2012, Henderson, Coveney and Ward, 2010) and relevant to the study aims for example approaches to building, breaking, maintaining and repairing trust in the food system and (2) from the transcripts as new themes recurred as analysis progressed. Other members of the research team checked the coding for consistency by reviewing up to four transcripts each and coding independently. Consistent coding and agreement was found. 9 Phase 2: Member checking The member checking process involved two main steps: (1) development of strategy statements and (2) checking of these statements with participants using an electronic survey. Development of strategy statements The term ‘strategy statements’ refers to statements identified from interview data that describe an action to (re)build consumer trust in the food system. Interview transcripts were coded at three levels to arrive at strategy statements. The three levels of coding ensured that any cross-actor and cross-country similarities and differences could be noted. First, data were coded for actions including building, breaking, maintaining and repairing consumer trust. Second, data were coded by type of participant (media, industry or regulatory actor). Third, to allow for cross country comparison, actors were coded for their country of origin (Australia, UK or NZ). One other researcher checked the analysis and consistent results were obtained. From this analysis, ten strategy statements for (re)building consumer trust in the food supply in response to food incidents were developed. Strategy statements were developed from interviews with all three types of actors. Electronic survey Development of the electronic survey To ensure that the strategy statements that were derived from the interview data were an accurate representation of the interview participants’ views, an electronic survey was sent to all interview participants using Survey Monkey. The survey consisted of three sections: participant background, agreement with importance of the strategy statements and ranking of the importance of the strategy statements for use on both a day-to-day basis and in response 10 to a food incident. Participants were given the opportunity to provide further comment following all questions except those in the background section. Three versions of the survey were created to cover the different professional contexts of the participants; media, food industry and food regulatory actors. Each version of the survey had the same questions; however a different example, derived from the interview data, was provided alongside each question specific to each actor group. This helped to provide a context for the strategy statement within each actor’s area of work. Recruitment for the electronic survey An email was sent to all participants who took part in an interview in Phase 1 of the study inviting them to participate in Phase 2. The email included a summary of the study as well as a web link to the electronic survey. The initial survey was followed up with a second invitation two weeks later. Data analysis Results from the electronic survey were collated in Survey Monkey and imported into Microsoft Excel. Results included the percentage of respondents who agreed, disagreed, were unsure or skipped a question. For each actor group, the group average percentage agreement with each strategy statement was calculated. The overall average agreement (not specified by actor group) using the overall percentage agreements from each actor group, was also calculated. There were two ranking questions where participants were asked to rank the importance of using the ten strategy statements to (re)build trust on, firstly a daily basis and secondly, following a food incident, from 1 to 10. This question was analysed by calculating the overall, average rank for each strategy statement. This was not calculated for each actor group separately. Importantly, anonymity was maintained and individual responses to 11 survey questions could not be attributed to a specific individual. Free text responses were imported into NVivo 10.0 (QSR Doncaster, Victoria) and then analysed qualitatively. For ease of organisation, this was done within each actor group. Development of the model for (re)building trust Information obtained from the survey about participants’ agreement with the strategy statements was used to develop the model for trust (re)building in relation to food incidents. This was done by determining which strategy statements were considered the most important by participants through analysis of their agreement and disagreement with strategies, their ranking of strategies and their free text responses. The model was developed by (1) identifying which strategy statements fit and where they fit in the model and (2) conceptualising how they fit together. Elements of the initial strategy statements (derived from interviews) were modified based on participant responses to the survey (for example, change of wording or removal of a strategy statement). This study received ethics approval from the Flinders University Social and Behavioural Research Ethics Committee. RESULTS Development of the Strategy Statements The ten strategy statements for (re)building consumer trust in the food supply before, during and after food incidents, derived from interview data, are shown in Table 1. This includes: be transparent, have protocols and procedures in place, be credible, be proactive, put consumers first, collaborate with stakeholders, be consistent, educate stakeholders and consumers, build your reputation and keep your promises. Table 1 demonstrates the slightly different meaning 12 of the strategy statement in each of the different actors’ work contexts, ascertained from interview data: media, food industry and food regulatory settings. Electronic survey Response rate Fifty five percent of participants (n=58) completed the electronic survey; 15 media actors, 15 industry actors and 28 regulatory actors. In all three surveys, demographic questions were completed. However for media and industry actors, approximately one third of participants skipped all remaining questions after the demographic questions (median and range media actors: 5, 5-6; median and range industry actors 6, 6-7). For food regulatory actors, the number of participants skipping questions was much less (median 1, range 1-3). Eight of the original participants had moved jobs or changed email addresses since the Phase 1 interviews and hence they could not be reached. Agreement with strategy statements The average levels of participant agreement with the importance of each strategy statement, derived from the electronic survey, are presented (Table 2). Participant rankings of the importance of each strategy statement, both on a day-to-day basis and in times of a food incident, are also presented (Table 2). Development of the model using strategy statements Information obtained from the survey about participants’ agreement with the strategy statements was used to conceptualise the important features of (re)building consumer trust in the food supply and hence develop the model. Importantly, no differences between countries were observed in relation to agreement with and ranking of strategy statements. 13 Identifying which strategy statements fit in the model and where Five strategy statements were primarily used to develop the model. These include 1.transparency, 2.protocols and procedures, 3. be proactive, 4.collaborate with stakeholders and 5.put consumers first. The importance of these statements to trust (re)building is evident in the percentage of participants agreeing about their importance, for example transparency, protocols and procedures and proactivity received an overall agreement of their importance of 100%, 97% and 100% respectively (Table 2) Additionally and importantly, these five strategy statements were reiterated as very important through participant comments, which are outlined in the next section. Two of the original strategy statements (‘put consumers first’ and ‘collaborate with stakeholders’) received lower, overall rankings of importance (71% and 78% respectively) These strategy statements were still included in the model because participant comments indicated that these were useful strategies. Other strategy statements from the member checking exercise were not explicitly included in the model because they were either (1) covered under other strategy statements (for example ‘keep your promises’ was found to fit under ‘transparency’; ‘educate consumers’ was better placed under ‘consider consumers’; and ‘credibility’ including the use of credible experts, could be incorporated within ‘collaboration with stakeholders’) or (2) they were considered less relevant by participants. For example ‘build your reputation’ was discussed as a by-product of engaging in other strategies, rather an as a strategy on its own. Additionally, the strategy ‘consistency’, which was identified as important through a high overall ranking (86%), has been operationalised in the model as the circular connect between the other strategy statements. Further details about the importance of each strategy statement, as derived from participant comments, are discussed below. 14 The model Transparency Participants, regardless of their role in the food system, all agreed that transparency was the most important strategy for (re)building trust in the food system after a food incident. Transparency, including communicating openly with consumers, received the highest average percentage agreement and ranking of importance by participants. Participant comments also illustrated the importance of this strategy: “Where there is a loss of trust, transparency is much more important than usual and is central to rebuilding trust. This is probably the most important factor listed”- Regulatory respondent Transparency meant slightly different things for the different actors. For example in a media context, transparency was about ensuring that information sources were cited, while for regulatory and industry actors, it was more about ensuring good communication and responding to queries openly and honestly. Transparency was also discussed in relation to other strategies. For example, regulatory participants commented that publication of protocols and procedures for managing food incidents is required. Within a food industry context, it was suggested that transparency in relation to food safety issues was high. However it was identified that more transparency is needed in the area of food labelling as a means to build trust, for example ensuring consistency with labels that are on food packaging. However it was acknowledged that caution is needed in the food industry 15 with transparency to avoid information being interpreted as advertising, which may not be seen favourably by consumers and reduce trust. The original strategy statement of ‘keep your promises’ (such as fulfilling claims and commitments) was agreed upon, however it was a good fit within the strategy of transparency in the model. This was further supported by participant comments, including: “If you don’t know the answer- admit it. Better to say I don’t know than be found out as wrong or break a promise later.” – Regulatory respondent “Yes maintain commitments but must be shown to be honest first and foremost” – Industry respondent. The overall importance of transparency and its interaction with all the other strategies demonstrated that it was central concept and therefore features as the heart of the model for trust (re)building in the context of food incidents. Protocols and procedures Protocols and procedures, such as having crisis plans in place to manage a food incident, were considered crucial and rated equally important on a daily basis and following a food incident. “Essential and protocols that are regularly reviewed and tested. That review should always include hindsight analysis of incidents that have occurred.” – Industry respondent Regulatory respondents also pointed out that not all situations fit into pre-determined standards, meaning that flexibility may be required at times. However, regulatory respondents did highlight that adherence to these standards as much as possible is important. 16 While the different actor groups had their own industry-specific set of protocols and procedures (Table 1) the importance of adhering to these protocols and procedures was universally agreed upon. Proactivity Proactivity, such as active communication and steps to avoid future food incidents, was also considered important (100% overall agreement) and ranked highly both on a daily basis and following a food incident. “back it with info on how this [food incident] will be avoided in the future.” – Industry respondent Proactivity looked different for the different actor groups interviewed. For example, being proactive for a media actor may involve checking the source of a story before disseminating it while for a food industry actor being proactive was reported as, for example, withdrawing products if there is any chance of risk. Consider consumers This strategy was derived from two of the original strategy statements from Phase 1, including ‘putting consumers first’ and ‘educating consumers and stakeholders.’ ‘Putting consumers first’ received the lowest overall rating of agreement (71%), however when ranked for importance on a daily basis and following a food incident, received relatively high rankings. The comments provided rich context to explain these results. Specifically, participants differentiated consumer health and safety, and consumer values. Health and safety was considered the first priority by all actor types and therefore participants thought that consumers should be put first in this respect. However, sometimes it was acknowledged that consumers may have concerns that are less about food safety and more about values (for 17 example genetically modified foods) and in this case, consumer issues should be given less attention: “Priority needs to be given to issues such as food safety and preventative health. Often consumers are pushing for issues that are values issues, as such it is important to listen to consumers, however priority should be based on risks.”- Regulatory respondent Participants acknowledged that consumer needs should be balanced with the needs of other stakeholders within the food system including food industry and regulation, as well as the environment. Furthermore, response should be proportionate to risk, as overreaction can have consequences that may reduce trust. Additionally, ‘putting consumers first’ was also considered problematic by respondents in that the message may create unrealistic expectations amongst consumers. For example, there are feasibility limitations to food regulators testing every single item that leaves a factory, even if consumers thought this was important. ‘Consider consumers’ also encompasses the strategy statement of ‘educating stakeholders and consumers.’ Whilst the strategy was considered important (83% overall agreement), the way in which it is described in the survey did not align with participant comments. Specifically, participants highlighted that consumers are a heterogeneous group with varying levels of knowledge about the food system. Education by the food industry could be perceived by consumers as marketing which could diminish consumer trust. Alternatively, it was suggested that consumers should be provided with information about regulatory processes and specific information regarding food incidents as they occur, including risk communication. Several participants also recommended that the term ‘educate’ may be considered insulting by 18 consumers and that it is more about providing information to enable consumers to make an informed decision. While media actors talked about educating consumers in the sense of providing them with information, food industry actors talked about building the knowledge base of consumers. Based on these responses, the strategy statement ‘consider consumers’ was considered to be more appropriate for the model than ‘putting consumers first’. It was also considered to encompass the original statement ‘educating stakeholders and consumers’. Collaboration with stakeholders Participants agreed that collaborations with other stakeholders within the food system were important (78% overall agreement), however they were keen to clarify the types of stakeholders they considered important collaborators. These included public health groups, health professionals, food regulators, consumer interest groups and consumers. Participants from the food industry and food regulation settings were sceptical about the media as stakeholders. For example: “Collaboration with stakeholders is always desirable but using “the media” can be a double- edged sword and should be handled with caution. Working with trusted sources, such as health professionals and consumer or trade organisations could be a better option as the media are not always a trusted source.”- Industry respondent However, actors from both the food industry and food regulatory settings talked about the importance of developing trusted contacts within the media, who could then be involved in communication with the public through the dissemination of information. Respondent comments highlighted that collaboration with stakeholders can be complicated. Specifically, there is a need for balance between engaging stakeholders effectively and keeping a reasonable independence to avoid a conflict of interest. 19 Review of the respondent comments in relation to the original strategy statement of ‘be credible’ suggests that this strategy is well placed within ‘collaboration with stakeholders.’ For example, amongst food industry respondents, the use of experts such as food regulators and physicians as spokespeople after an incident was thought to provide reassurance and credibility. “An independent expert is generally more reassuring than a company employee. Trade and consumer organisations can also play a useful role, depending on the nature of the incident.”- Industry respondent Another industry respondent explained that following the horsemeat incident in UK, the local council’s Environmental Health Officer was engaged to communicate the company statement to demonstrate their credibility. Regulatory respondents explained that independent experts could be used to review research outcomes, and occasionally engage with the public; however for the most part, food regulators believed they were well placed to present technical information following an incident. Consistency Consistency, particularly in relation to messages circulated to the public, was considered an important strategy and all actors understood this concept in a similar way. Respondents explained that inconsistencies could be damaging: “inconsistencies, even if unintended, are likely to be picked up and raise concern or distrust about the company or the product”- Industry respondent However, it was highlighted that these messages need to be correct in the first instance to maintain trust. 20 Food regulatory actors discussed the importance of having consistency between enforcement agencies, for example ensuring that food businesses were held to the same standards. This ensured that consumers could be confident that no matter where they ate, businesses would be subjected to the same regulations. Consistency therefore features on the model as the connections between the four key strategies (protocols & procedures, proactivity, collaborate with stakeholders and consideration of consumers). Reputation Whilst reputation was considered important by respondents (87% overall agreement), it was argued that reputation is more of a by-product of the overall system rather than a strategy for (re)building trust in isolation. In other words, when actors are being attentive to the other strategies, they will gain a positive reputation as a result. “It’s important that the focus is on being reliable and credible, not on pursuing a good reputation. Ralph Waldo Emerson ‘The louder he talked of his honour, the faster we counted our spoons.’”- Regulatory respondent “I don’t see focusing on reputation as helpful. Take actions that will allow a solid reputation to develop. Too much focus on ‘reputation’ is likely to come across as ‘spin.’”- Regulatory respondent Equally, poor crisis management, particularly following a food incident, was considered to be able to quickly damage reputation. “It should be remembered that a good reputation takes a long time to build and a very short time to lose if an incident is handled badly.”- Industry respondent Therefore reputation features on the model as the product or the outcome of the overall system of strategies. The ability to utilise the strategies can assist in building a good 21 reputation. In the event of a food incident, a good reputation can have some protective effect on consumer trust. Time Another critical aspect reported by participants to manage food incidents was time; specifically having a timely response. “Timelines are everything. The ability to react swiftly is important, as opinions are formed within the first 24 hours, and are then much harder to change, especially with the social media effect.”- Media respondent “Any delay in informing consumers about a situation is likely to lead to consumer concern and distrust” – Industry respondent Therefore time was overlayed across the model as the context in which strategies need to be delivered. DISCUSSION The purpose of this paper is to describe the development of an evidence-based model for how consumer trust in the food supply can be (re)built before, during and after food incidents, from the point of view of key actors involved in the food supply. It also highlights strategies for maintaining consumer trust in the food supply on an ongoing, daily basis. Transparency was identified as the most important strategy as evidenced by participants’ ratings, high level of overall agreement (100%) and comments. The interaction between transparency and other strategies was evident in the data, demonstrating that transparency is at the heart of the model of (re)building trust in response to food incidents. The significance of transparency in responding to food incidents has been described elsewhere, for example Jensen (2004) argues that the lack of transparency during the BSE crisis meant that the UK 22 government did not manage the crisis successfully. Similarly, Abelson (2009) highlights the need for accountability structures when dealing with issues of trust. However, Burke (2003) argues that transparency can be counterproductive when used in isolation, especially in the event that information is misinterpreted. This provides further evidence for the need for a model of (re)building trust which draws on multiple strategies rather than just one strategy such as transparency, as has been done with the model presented in this paper. The importance of being proactive was acknowledged by participants. This included proactive communication and reflection on how reoccurrence of incidents could be avoided in the future. Existing literature supports the significance of being proactive, particularly with communicating risk to consumers, and the positive impact this can have in mitigating consumer concerns. Frewer (1996) suggests that if the government and risk regulators are seen as being proactive and interacting with the media, this can positively improve the ways in which food risk related information is reported. Subsequently, there can be a positive impact on trust in government regulation. The need for proactive measures to prevent food incidents was a significant theme from both consumers and food safety experts in another study (Van Kleef et al 2006). This is similar to Cope et al.’s (2010) survey which identified that consumers preferred risk management to be proactive rather than reactive in regards to food safety. However, experts within Cope et al.’s (2010) study indicated that potential risks are not always best communicated to the public as a lack of technical understanding amongst consumers could be counter-productive. The electronic survey indicated that the original strategies of ‘putting consumers first’ and ‘educating consumers’ were primarily about prioritising consumer health and safety, and having information available to consumers. Therefore, these two strategies were combined to 23 form a component of the model, ‘consider consumers.’ Wallace (2005) identified that providing information to consumers about the food system, along with benevolence and integrity, can have significant impact on consumer trust. In contrast, Eden et al. (2008) argues that provision of information can increase scepticism rather than decrease it by improving understanding where previously people may have taken things for granted. Further information means consumers may consider the fact that systems are not fail-proof (Eden, Bear and Walker, 2008). However, the reception of information is varied depending on the audience (Papadopoulos et al., 2012). Therefore consideration of consumers, including understanding who the target consumers are and how to best engage with them and meet their needs, is another applicable strategy for (re)building consumer trust in food and is reflected in the model presented in this paper. Provision of safe food relies on a range of actors within the food system. When a food incident occurs, collaboration amongst these actors including the food industry, food regulators and the media can impact on how the overall incident is managed and ultimately perceived by the public. Results from the survey revealed that collaboration with a wider range of stakeholders than food industry, food regulation and the media is needed including consumers and consumer and trade organisations. Participants were in agreement about the importance of the strategies, while how the strategy was used in each actor's setting was slightly different. It has previously been acknowledged that a food chain approach is necessary to ensure consumer trust and food safety (Beulens et al., 2005). Therefore it is important that actors in the food chain are able to respond in consistent ways. This model provides a set of consistent approaches to responding that can be 24 used by three different actors groups when responding to food incidents on a day-to-day and emergency basis and hence assists in addressing this issue. Tensions between food actors including the food industry and food regulators and the media were apparent in this study and in existing literature. Specifically, journalists without a scientific background may not provide sufficient context when presenting information to the public (Anderson, 2000). This can create unwarranted fear amongst consumers if the risks are inflated (Carslaw, 2008, Henderson et al., 2014b). Consequently, a reluctance to engage with the media can arise. However, the significance of the media, especially in the communication of risk, has been identified (Leask et al., 2010). The media often see their role as protectors of the public by equipping them with information (Henderson, Wilson, Meyer, Coveney, Calnan, McCullum, Lloyd and Ward, 2014a, Wilson et al., 2014). Through timely, transparent communication and collaboration and an understanding of the media’s role in construction of risk, the media can be utilised by food actors effectively (Burke, 2003, Anderson, 2000). This study identifies the media as a key stakeholder, however indicates that development of effective relationships between the media and other actors within the food system is required. A limitation of this study is that not all original interview participants could be contacted because they had moved positions and changed email addresses. However, the response rate observed is comparable with similar studies that have used internet-based questionnaires with professional actors (Ritter et al., 2004, Braithwaite et al., 2003). Despite this, it is acknowledged that different opinions could have been observed in those participants who did not respond. The majority of contact with participants throughout this study (for example recruitment and making a time for an interview) was done through email, however it cannot 25 be assumed that all participants had equal access to the internet, which may have affected their ability to respond to the survey. In future, participants could be offered a paper survey as an alternative if they preferred. The fact that approximately one third of media and industry actors skipped survey questions other than those about demographics is also a weakness as it reduces the sample size. It is possible that these actors did not understand the questions, compared with the food regulatory actors who more consistently answered all of the questions. Another limitation is the lack of involvement of consumers to get their opinions on the model, however this was not the purpose of this study. Notwithstanding these limitations, this study has operationalised the data from actors working within the food system to derive strategies for (re)building consumer trust in the context of food incidents. The study also has a number of strengths. The use of the same participants in Phases 1 and 2 provided continuity and enabled clarification to be obtained about the researchers’ interpretation of the interview data. In particular, this enabled individuals who respond to food incidents regularly to provide input into the development of the model, suggesting it is more strongly based on practice and therefore likely to be relevant to those working in the field. Further research and recommendations are needed to ease apparent tensions and facilitate stronger relationships between actors working within the food system and the media. While consumer responses to food incidents have shown to vary by country (Mazzocchi, Lobb, Bruce Traill and Cavicchi, 2008), we found that no differences between countries were observed in relation to agreement with and ranking of strategy statements. Hence the model is likely to be generalizable across the three settings of this research: Australia, the UK and NZ. However, further empirical work, to test the usefulness and applicability to the media, food regulatory and food industry settings in each of these locations, is important work for further 26 research. 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(2014) Media actors' perceptions of their roles in reporting food incidents. BMC public health, 14, 1305. 29 Figure 1: Proposed model for (re)building consumer trust in the food system after a food incident Reputation Collaborate with stakeholders: • Food regulators • Food industry • Consumer and trade organisations • Public health organisations • Consumers • Media – although can be considered difficult • Independent experts • Need for collaboration to be balanced i.e. not perceived as too close for own benefit Transparency protocols & procedures proactivty collaborate with stakeholders consider consumers Consider consumers: • Health* • Values* • Availability of information - Regulation process - Products * balanced with risk and proportionate to the needs of regulators and food industry Protocols & procedures: • Food industry: crisis plans that are regularly reviewed and tested • Food regulation: standards and surveillance Reputation is a by-product of engaging strategies effectively Can have protective effect if developed prior to incident Proactivity: • Proactive communication with issues emerging • Details on how to avoid the issue in the future Transparency: • Honesty • Substantiate claims • Open about what can be investigated • Risk communication • Accountability when things go wrong Consistency Regularly engage in strategies Time Timely response crucial following a food incident 30 Table 1: Strategy statements for (re)building consumer trust in the food supply before, during and after food incidents. Strategy statements Media Food Industry Food regulatory 1. Be transparent • Cite information sources • Present a balanced story to the public e.g. not frighten or lull people into a false sense of security • Communicate with consumers (e.g. enquiry lines, social media etc.) • Inform consumers what has occurred and what is being done to rectify the situation • Report to consumers what is being done to ensure food is safe • Respond to consumer queries 2. Have protocols & procedures in place • Presence of and compliance to standards of conduct (e.g. Standards of Business Conduct and the Australian Press Council) • Incident management plans and where applicable trained crisis management personnel • Script for consumer helpline to manage consumer calls during an incident • Evidence-based audits of industry to check adherence to standards and codes • Baseline studies to verify the effectiveness of the regulations • Crisis management system in place in the event that a food incident occurs 3. Be credible • Use accurate and well researched information • Cite references and information sources • Interpret scientific information correctly • Use of credible, independent expert to speak to the media during or after an incident e.g. food regulation agency spokesperson, physician etc. • Publish the evidence (e.g. results of tests, statistics) • Use of independent experts e.g. doctor, health professional etc. to provide explanation 4. Be proactive • Check credibility of information sources prior to disseminating (including social media such as tweeting) • Publish findings of reports • Withdrawal of products if any chance of risk • Review and update standards and regulations to ensure they remain relevant 5. Put consumers first • Keep consumers safe by informing them of food incidents e.g. details of recall, foods under investigation etc. • Consumer safety is a major priority and protocols and procedures are centred around this • Modify products in accordance with consumer demands • Demonstrate that consumers’ best interest is a priority • Listen to consumers and understand their needs and expectations and respond accordingly 6. Collaborate with stakeholders • Establish trusted contacts in food industry and food regulation • Reiteration of messages from food regulation body • Use the media to disseminate information following an incident • Build reliable media contacts to draw on • Keep in regular contact with industry so that they know what is being done on their behalf • Maintain on-going partnerships between industry and policy (e.g. industry test results published by policy) 31 • Involve media in communication with the public 7. Be consistent • Provide consistent messaging to reaffirm messages e.g. safety of a product post incident • Always use credible information sources • Information for consumers and professionals is consistent (although language may differ) • Consistency of products • Message consistency amongst stakeholders • Provide consistent messaging to the public and stakeholders 8. Educate stakeholders and consumers • Inform consumers about details regarding food investigation process and results • Build the knowledge base of consumers (e.g. how food is produced) • Provide industry and consumer information in appropriate language (e.g. via website) 9. Build your reputation • Provide timely, consistent information • Provide good public relations prior, during and after a food incident • Quality products • Good public relations prior, during and after a food incident • Show that you are reliable and provide credible information 10. Keep your promises • Provide timely, quality information • Keep audience well informed • Maintain commitments and claims made • Investigate consumer concerns and respond to their enquiries 32 Table 2: Percentage agreement and average ranking with the importance of strategy statements by participants from the electronic survey (n=58) Strategy Media (n=15) (%) Food Industry (n=15) (%) Food Regulatory (n=28) (%) Overall average agreement (%) Average ranking Daily basis Following a food incident 1. Be transparent 100 100 100 100 8 8 2. Have protocols & procedures in place 100 100 92 97 6 6 3. Be credible 100 88 92 93 7 7 4. Be proactive 100 100 100 100 6 7 5. Put consumers first 90 66 57 71 7 7 6. Collaborate with stakeholders 80 62 92 78 4 5 7. Be consistent 90 88 80 86 5 4 8. Educate stakeholders and consumers 100 75 76 83 4 3 9. Build your reputation 90 88 85 87 3 2 10. Keep your promises 100 88 92 93 5 4 
work_haaauarpxffc5ojrvgipwevfxy	----	9270-3.0.indd Social Science History 37:2 (Summer 2013) DOI 10.1215/01455532-2074429 © 2013 by Social Science History Association Marc Egnal Evolution of the Novel in the United States The Statistical Evidence This article examines the evolution of the novel in the United States using a remarkable new source, the Ngram database. This database, which spans several centuries, draws on the 15 million books that Google has scanned. It allows researchers to look at year- to- year fluctuations in the use of particular words. Using one of the available filters, the article is based on English- language books published in the United States between 1800 and 2008. But making sense of these data requires a framework. That framework is provided by the four periods that emerge from much recent writing on the novel. Four epochs—the sentimental era (1789–1860), the genteel era (1860–1915), the modern era (1915–60), and the postmodern era (1960–)—define the evolution of the novel and, more broadly, changes in American society and values. The article argues that a study of key words drawn from the Ngram database confirms the existence of these peri- ods and deepens our understanding of them. Ever since the first critical works appeared in the early US Republic, observers have proposed a variety of approaches to understanding the evolu- tion of American literature. New points of view, new novels, and new bodies of evidence have led scholars repeatedly to refine or completely recast their interpretations. A database drawn from the more than 15 million books that Google has scanned offers just such an opportunity. This article argues that this source of information, called the Ngram database, clarifies and deepens the analysis of US novels. But databases never speak for themselves. They must be examined in the context of interpretive frameworks. This article h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 232 Social Science History begins by exploring recent overviews of American literature. The article next discusses the nature of the Ngram database. It then suggests how these data shed light on American fiction from 1800 to the present. The New Synthesis of American Literature Quietly and without much fanfare, a new synthesis has reshaped analysis of American literature. This overview, which replaces older interpretations, provides a crucial background for understanding the Ngram data.1 At first glance, the assertion that there is a current synthesis seems questionable. The emphasis in recent overviews has been on uncertainty, conflicting explana- tions, and multiple viewpoints. In his introduction to the seven- volume Cam- bridge History of American Literature, the editor, Sacvan Bercovitch (1994), underscores the demise of older patterns of analysis. “For this generation of critics and scholars,” he writes, “American literary history is no longer the history of a certain, agreed- upon group of American masterworks. Nor is it any longer based upon a certain, agreed- upon historical perspective on American writing.” Bercovitch (ibid.: 2) continues, pointing to the diversity of recent viewpoints, “In our times, in short, the study of American literary history defines itself in the plural, through volatile focal points of a multi- faceted scholarly, critical, and pedagogic enterprise.” The single- volume, multiauthored Columbia History of the American Novel (Elliott 1991) echoes these cautionary themes. Recent discussions of the “canon”—the works that all scholars should read and teach—also highlight diversity, conflict, and the questioning of older authorities (ibid.: ix–xviii; Alberti 1995). Yet all is not chaos. What most recent overviews have in common is an emphasis on periods, and not just any set but rather four particular epochs that define the evolution of US literature. In the introduction to the Colum- bia History of the American Novel, the editor, Emory Elliott (1991: xiv), notes: “There is clearly a chronological progression in the book with four histori- cally organized sections introduced by a specialist in each period.” The four are “Beginnings to Mid- Nineteenth Century,” “The Late Nineteenth Cen- tury,” “The Early Twentieth Century,” and “The Late Twentieth Century” (ibid.). With variations in name, these four periods define the material in the Cambridge History of American Literature as well. The first era is the least likely to bear a formal name. But the second has been called the genteel era, the third the modern era, and the most recent the postmodern era. The newly h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 233 published Cambridge History of the American Novel (Cassuto 2011) high- lights the same four divisions. It begins with part 1, “Inventing the Ameri- can Novel,” which takes the story up to the Civil War. Next comes “Real- ism, Protest, Accommodation,” which carries this overview to World War I. The third section, “Modernism and Beyond,” examines writing through the 1960s. The final section, “Contemporary Formations,” opens appropriately with the essay “Postmodern Novels.” This fourfold division is more than a useful set of labels. It ties literature to the evolution of American society in profound ways. The four periods track changes in the United States, as the nation metamorphosed from an over- whelmingly rural society (in the first era) to one at least initially dominated by small towns (in the genteel era); then to one where vibrant cities set the tone (in the modern era); and further to a time characterized by megalopo- lises, sprawling entities often with decaying cores (in the postmodern era). Similarly, this periodization embodies far- reaching shifts in values, begin- ning with an initial concern for womanly virtue (in the first era); evolving into the elaborate codes that marked genteel America; continuing with a less rigid set of moral guidelines while gender and racial hierarchies remained (in the modern era); and concluding with a period in which hallowed assump- tions about race, gender, and authority gradually crumbled (in the postmod- ern era). The four- period synthesis suggests no judgment about the canon, the value of straight or queer literature, colonial or postcolonial attitudes, or male or female roles. In that sense it is very much in keeping with the recent, more open sensibility. But it does assert that any reading of literature should be set securely in the context of these epochs and the evolution of US society. This article reinforces the current synthesis. The material presented below makes clear that this fourfold division, with its deep roots in Ameri- can society and culture, provides a valuable framework for literary analysis. The Ngram Database The Ngram database sheds light on those eras. But before any source, and particularly one as far- ranging as this compilation, can be used, there is a need to consider its nature, strengths, and weaknesses. In 2004 engineers at Google began making digital copies of books. It is a task of Brobdingna- gian proportions. Since the invention of the printing press, about 129 mil- lion books have been published; Google has now digitized over 15 million of h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 234 Social Science History them. The project encompasses, along with English books, works in seven other languages. Most of the publications have appeared since 1800. English- language authors, for example, published only 500,000 works between 1500 and 1800. From the volumes scanned, covering the years from 1500 to 2008, Google selected 5.2 million books as the foundation of the Ngram database. The researchers chose this group partly based on the quality of the opti- cal character recognition (OCR) results. They also selected works with the most complete metadata, including date, place, and language of publication. According to a tabulation undertaken in 2010, the largest portion (67 per- cent) of the more than 500 billion words in this compilation are in English, with smaller collections in French (8 percent), Spanish (8 percent), German (7 percent), Russian (7 percent), Chinese (2 percent), and Hebrew (< 1 per- cent). Italian was added to the database after these numbers were computed (Michel et al. 2010, 2011). Anyone visiting the site (ngrams.googlelabs.com) to run English- language word searches finds a short and not entirely satisfactory list of pos- sible filters. The one used in this article is American English. It limits the search to English- language books published in the United States. These works, however, can be of many sorts, including legal or technical docu- ments, reprints of foreign books, sermons, political tracts, and American fic- tion. Each book is considered only once, so obscure texts are weighted as heavily as best sellers. There are some virtues to dealing with this large bas- ket of works, but before that question is tackled, the other filters for English- language books should be noted. The database can also be searched for British English (works published in Great Britain), English Fiction (fictional works in English without regard to place of publication), and English and English One Million (both dealing with the broader selection of English- language books). Readers can also examine the smaller Ngram databases for books in seven other languages. Word searches generate graphs, such as the 17 presented in this article, but what exactly is measured? The numbers on the left axis are percentages indicating for each year the proportion of all words in the scanned books that match the term selected. So if you search for the, a very common word, the results show that in most years about 5 percent of all words (Google calls them “unigrams”) are a match. More typical results are much lower. For example, the use of sublime peaks early in the nineteenth century at about h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 235 0.003 percent. So of every 100,000 words in books published in the 1810s, 3 of them are sublime (Cohen 2010; Google Books Ngram Viewer 2011; Hotz 2010). Google allows users of the database to conduct a finer- grained analysis, but that sorting must be done manually. For any word queried, Google pro- vides a list of the books that include the term during a particular time period. So for sublime in the American English database for the 10 years beginning in January 1843, some 254 books are listed. All are published in the United States, but roughly half are reprints of works first issued elsewhere, chiefly in Britain. Some are literary works, for example, the stories of Edgar Allan Poe and the novels of the Anglo- Irish novelist Maria Edgeworth. Many of the volumes are reviews from the United States, such as the Knickerbocker Review and the United States Democratic Review, or reprints of British publi- cations, such as Punch and the Edinburgh Review. In sum, the Ngram Ameri- can English database is a useful handbook for what Americans wrote, but it is a better guide for what middle- class Americans were reading.2 This article examines, with an emphasis on novels, the four periods that emerge from recent overviews of American literature. The analysis high- lights the changing popularity of various words as revealed in the Ngram American English database. The graphs presented begin in 1800, although Google provides data for earlier years. But the paucity of books published in the United States before the nineteenth century, and particularly the lack of works written by Americans, make the data from the 1780s and 1790s (or earlier) less reliable. For the four periods, I have used the labels and dates that made the best sense to me. Some studies posit the same divisions, but others might move the termini 10 or even 15 years in one direction or another. Since the underlying graph is always presented, the precise dating is less important than the overall trend line. Sentimental Era, 1789–1860 During the sentimental era the American middle class, which had first emerged as a self- conscious group in the mid- eighteenth century, came to dominate society and shape its values. Like the other epochs, the sentimental era was a period of great change, but its unity came from the celebration of emotions and a determination to encourage new “proper” and pious patterns of behavior. In contrast to the genteel era with its elaborate, settled codes, the h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 236 Social Science History emphasis in these years was on changing the way people acted (Brown 1940; Davidson 2004; Kete 2000; Tompkins 1985).3 The earliest American novels, such as William Hill Brown’s Power of Sympathy (1969 [1789]) and Susanna Rowson’s Charlotte Temple (2011 [1791]), are instructional texts for young women and broadcast the dangers of seduc- tion, particularly by upper- class men. Charles Brockden Brown’s novels, such as Ormond (1962 [1799]) and Arthur Mervyn (1969 [1800]), similarly underscore these perils. While such warnings lessen after 1820, the horrors of seduction and the shame of the “fallen woman” remain evident in such works as Catharine Maria Sedgwick’s Hope Leslie (1998 [1827]), James Feni- more Cooper’s Deerslayer (1987 [1841]), and Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Scar- let Letter (1962 [1850]). Not surprisingly, the literature of this era features the word SEDUCE more often than do later writings. (Capitalized words are displayed in the accompanying graphs.) The word FAITHFUL, a signi- fier for the proper sort of behavior, also recurs more prominently in this era than in later years (Bercovitch 1994: 620–60; Davidson 2004; Fiedler 1966: 105–23) (figures 1–2). Efforts to check wanton misdeeds were the opening salvos in a cam- paign to reshape middle- class values. This concerted effort, which character- ized the sentimental era, highlights the growing importance of Christianity and the cult of domesticity. Among the white population, church adherents (those who belonged to a congregation or often attended services) rose from about 14 percent in 1800 to 35 percent in 1850. Not surprisingly, CHURCH Figure 1 Frequency of seduce in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 237 was widely used during these years—far more so than in later epochs. Simi- larly characteristic of this first era was the emphasis given to the terms PIOUS and SINFUL (figures 3–4). The same holds true for the frequency of words (not here graphed) such as Christianity, faith, God, grace, and prayer. Certainly, the next period, the genteel era, lauded churchgoing—it was part of that epoch’s elaborate codes. However, the heightened concern for piety between 1789 and 1860 reflected the obsessions of a period of intense prose- lytizing. During these years ministers labored to change people’s beliefs. By contrast, in the genteel era most middle- class individuals knew their duties, and the flood of religious rhetoric receded.4 Ann Douglas (1988) describes the changes in this era as the “femi- nization of American culture” and emphasizes the role of ministers and women authors in this transformation (see also Baym 1993: 11–50; Finke and Stark 1986; Howe 2007: 285–327; Welter 1966). The growing importance of MOTHER in comparison to FATHER testifies to that feminization and reflects the ascent of the cult of domesticity (figure 5). In 1800 references to “father” are far more common than those to “mother,” but during the ensu- ing decades, and particularly after 1820, the gap closes strikingly.5 Key words highlight two other aspects of the sentimental era. One is the increased appreciation for the natural world. The newfound delight in nature was evident in the work of novelists; in the writings of transcendentalist phi- losophers, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson; and in the paintings of the Hud- son River and Luminist schools. Much of the wonder that Americans felt in Figure 2 Frequency of faithful in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 238 Social Science History viewing their seemingly limitless forests, streams, waterfalls, and mountains is encapsulated in the word SUBLIME (figure 6). The term brings together the qualities of beauty with terror or awe. Many writers, such as Cooper, were fond of this concept. For example, sublime and its grammatical variants, such as sublimity, appear 20 times in The Pathfinder (1961 [1840]) and 8 times in The Deerslayer (1987 [1841]).6 After 1860 and particularly once industrializa- tion and urbanization had darkened the American landscape, writers were less likely to view the natural world in that exalted light (Blakemore 1986; Novak 2007; Ringe 1971: 3–33). Figure 3 Frequency of church in American English database Source: Ngram database. Figure 4 Frequency of pious and sinful in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 239 Still another development important for both literature and, more broadly, American society was the rising importance of the concept of CHILDHOOD (figure 7). The colonists typically had regarded children as miniature adults. During the sentimental era middle- class families gradually came to view these early years as a special stage of development. Beginning in the 1830s, the new outlook was evident in the writings of transcendentalists such as Emerson, the pronouncements of ministers such as Horace Bushnell, and the works of such novelists as Hawthorne, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Susan Warner. Childhood remained a serious time; not until the genteel era Figure 5 Frequency of father and mother in American English database Source: Ngram database. Figure 6 Frequency of sublime in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 240 Social Science History were adults willing to give children periods of pure play. Still, a new appre- ciation of the young had emerged (and as the graph suggests, belief in child- hood intensified in the postmodern era and will be discussed below) (Mintz 2004; Reinier 1996). The Genteel Era, 1860–1915 The next epoch, the genteel era, was likewise marked by great changes. What characterized this period was the dominance of an elaborate if unwritten code that defined proper middle- class behavior. This worldview gradually broke down during the last decades of the era, but at its height this credo was marked by a long list of attributes. These included optimism and a clear- cut morality. The genteel code also embraced a belief in the superiority of the white race and a commitment to Protestantism, progress, the doctrine of the two spheres, temperance, and sexual modesty. In 1911, when George Santayana (1967 [1911]) wrote his celebrated essay “The Genteel Tradition in American Philosophy,” many had come to view these beliefs as oppres- sive. But in its heyday—the 1860s and the 1870s—this outlook encompassed many of small- town America’s noblest virtues, such as an emphasis on caring families and close- knit communities (ibid.; Smith 1978). Perhaps no word characterizes the goodness of the early genteel era more than LOVING, a word widely used from the 1860s to the end of the century (figure 8). The term is the hallmark of Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women Figure 7 Frequency of childhood in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 241 (2008 [1868]) and Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer (1972 [1876]), two novels that epitomize these optimistic decades. Both works are set in small towns. While not everyone is well mannered in Alcott’s Concord or Twain’s Saint Peters- burg, concern for family and neighbors lies at the heart of the books. Loving appears 44 times in Little Women. When Mr. March goes off to war, he writes to his wife, “I know they [his daughters] will remember all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you . . . that when I come back to them I may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women.” On another occasion Mrs. March and the girls help a poor German family: “ ‘That’s loving our neighbor better than ourselves, and I like it,’ said Meg, as they set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor Hummels” (Alcott 2001 [1868]: 52, 58). In Tom Sawyer, when the boys return from Jackson’s Island, Huck receives a warm welcome. The narrator comments, “The loving attentions Aunt Polly lavished upon him were the one thing capable of making him more uncomfortable than he was before” (Twain 1972 [1876]: 144).7 Other markers of genteel behavior come from the terms of reproach SCOUNDREL and COQUETTE (figure 9). Both denote individuals whose behavior was judged improper but who also remained accepted out- liers in Victorian America. In Twain’s Huckleberry Finn (2003 [1884]) scoun- drel is used repeatedly to refer to the two con men, the Duke and the Dau- phin. The Duke in fact hurls the epithet at the Dauphin, while Huck refers to both grifters that way. Unlike scoundrel, whose use peaked in the genteel Figure 8 Frequency of loving in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 242 Social Science History era, coquette was widely used in the preceding era as well. Hannah Foster titled her 1797 novel The Coquette. Similar to coquette was flirt, a term whose use soared during the genteel era. In Little Women the word appears 17 times both as a noun and as a verb and usually hedged with disapproval. After 1900 the frequency of scoundrel, coquette, and flirt falls off sharply. The frame- work that cast into sharp relief these mildly transgressive behaviors was itself crumbling. Another intriguing pair of words, LEG and LIMB, further illustrates the nature of the genteel era and the changes in this period. Until the 1880s the two terms tracked each other, with limb serving as a politer referent for leg. For example, in Little Women Alcott introduces both words. Limb is typi- cally used when describing the March sisters. The novel notes Jo’s “long limbs” and Beth’s “feeble limbs” or how Amy sat “with every limb grace- fully composed” (Alcott 2001 [1868]: 48, 241, 312). But when discussing little children, infants, or animals, leg becomes the preferred term. Alcott (ibid.: 365, 457) writes, for example, about the “baby’s legs” and “Demi’s short plaid legs.” As the graph makes clear, references to limbs plummet after 1880 (figure 10). This decline, it would seem, is the first indication of the break- down of the elaborate strictures that came together in the genteel era. More broadly, these changes (and others evident by 1900) suggest an arc that tran- scends and ties together the four epochs. From the 1780s until the late nine- teenth century, American society was marked by an ever more well- defined social code. Beginning at the end of the nineteenth century and continu- Figure 9 Frequency of scoundrel and coquette in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 243 ing through the modern and postmodern eras, these prescribed patterns of behavior gradually broke down and were replaced by guidelines that were increasingly less restrictive.8 By the turn of the century the genteel world was clearly crumbling, even as the Victorian codes continued to matter. The suicides of the female pro- tagonists in Kate Chopin’s Awakening (1899) and Edith Wharton’s House of Mirth (1905) illustrate the force those ideas retained. Still, the decline of older values was unmistakable. Industrialization, urbanization, and the “new” immigration from eastern and southern Europe all undercut the hegemony of small- town, Anglo- Saxon America, which had provided the foundation for the era. A genteel America remained after 1915, lingering particularly in small towns and rural areas, but it no longer dominated the larger society (Delbanco 1997: 83–154; May 1959). Modern Era, 1915–1960 The changes that sounded the death knell for the genteel era also marked the opening of the modern era. Cities, not small towns, now ruled the social landscape. Many in the middle class no longer deemed sinful those activities, such as drinking or sexual relations outside marriage, that earlier generations had condemned as immoral. Mainstream writers, such as Sinclair Lewis, now reviled rather than praised small towns. But while modern America was in many respects freer and more daring than genteel society had been, it Figure 10 Frequency of leg and limb in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 244 Social Science History still bore the unmistakable stamp of an established order. Although women now voted and the Harlem Renaissance briefly flourished, gender and racial hierarchies held firm. Few questioned the value of families or religion, even while these institutions were redefined. Even during the Great Depression few doubted that the United States was a wonderful country or that the American dream was worth pursuing (Adams 1978; Baker 1987; Deen 2002; Douglas 1996; Kaplan 2010; Rado 1994). In part, the modern era was defined by the new freedoms that emerged with the breakdown of genteel values. The decline of coquette and flirt sig- naled a new sexual openness. Those who now regarded the “loving” families of Victorian America as stifling institutions celebrated the possibilities that came from franker, more open relationships. The disappearance of scoun- drel pointed to a society in which individuals undertook grimmer deeds. Few would label as “scoundrels” William Faulkner’s mean- minded protago- nists, such as Popeye in Sanctuary (1931) or Joe Christmas in Light in August (1932). The villains of genteel fiction pale in comparison to the psychologi- cally twisted characters in modern works (Allen 1952; Susman 1984). The rising use of DAMN is another sign of the loosening of older values (figure 11). This imprecation may seem mild to today’s ears, but the expres- sion, a shortening of God damn, was blasphemous and rarely used in litera- ture or public forums before 1915. When Rhett Butler told Scarlett O’Hara in Gone with the Wind (1939), “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn,” at least some viewers were shocked (Flamini 1975: 317–20). (The 1930 Motion Pic- Figure 11 Frequency of damn in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 245 ture Association’s Production Code had banned the word and fined the pro- ducer David O. Selznick $5,000.) The word abounds in modern literature. For example, damn or damned appears 43 times in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s This Side of Paradise (1920) and 35 times in his Beautiful and the Damned (1922). The new sense of freedom that marked the early years of the modern era was also captured in the word ROMANTIC (figure 12). Where loving sug- gested the dependable, caring individuals who were the pillars of the Victo- rian family, romantic had a more transgressive feel. It described persons who listened to their own hearts and cast aside society’s codes. Romantic had first risen in importance during the heyday of transcendentalism. Its frequency lessened during the early genteel era, when Victorian morality prevailed. But as those strictures weakened, romantic became more common, and its use soared in the 1920s. Jay Gatsby in Fitzgerald’s Great Gatsby (1925) stands as the quintessential romantic hero. In introducing him, the narrator, Nick Carraway, notes that Gatsby possesses “a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again” (Fitzgerald 1925: 2). The modern era had another side, one that was more staid and conform- ist. The ascent of the term MIDDLE CLASS also characterizes this period (figure 13). This designation had been gradually growing in importance since the nineteenth century, but the gains were most striking between 1915 and 1940 (another sharp advance came after 1960). The modern era was an epoch of increasing wealth and comfort despite the hardships of the Great Depres- Figure 12 Frequency of romantic and conform in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 246 Social Science History sion. The Ngram database indicates that the use of words such as profits, earnings, and investments skyrocketed in this era. These terms, to be sure, were found more often in the business press than in fiction, but novels also help detail the expansion of the middle class. Logan Killicks and Jody Starks in Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937) are exemplars of these new monied individuals, as are the Snopeses in Faulkner’s trilogy that begins with The Hamlet (1940). By the 1950s the middle class was prosperous, often smug, and prone to conformity. Significantly, citations of two transgressive terms—romantic and damn—which had risen in the 1920s and the 1930s, fell off in the 1950s. Instead, the last part of this epoch was marked by the steady ascent of the term CONFORM, whose use peaked in the 1950s (figure 12). In the 1950s novelists such as Ralph Ellison, J. D. Salinger, Mary McCarthy, and Saul Bellow depicted and criticized the middle class. But no writer saw an alter- native to accepting and living with this oppressive society. For example, in Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye (1951: 13) the protagonist, Holden Caulfield, rails against conformist society, complaining that he was “surrounded by phonies,” but in the end plans to become part of that world. Postmodern Era, 1960– The postmodern era marks another sea change in American society and cul- ture. Long- held assumptions that had shaped modern society now slowly Figure 13 Frequency of middle class in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 247 crumbled, much as the edifice of Victorian values had shattered early in the twentieth century. No longer did educated, middle- class Americans accept gender and racial hierarchies that had prevailed for centuries. The civil rights and women’s movements had a far- reaching impact. (Terms such as racism and sexism, little used in earlier years, now soared in importance.)9 Novel- ists and others questioned the meaning and value of middle- class life. Char- acteristic of the era was the waning of the traditional family and the growing acceptance of alternative lifestyles. At the same time, the hollowing out of American industry eliminated a broad swath of the middle class. Changes in government policies heightened the extremes in wealth. Once vibrant cities now housed the gated rich and the teeming poor (Elias 1999; Jameson 1991, 1998; McHale 1987; Steiner 1999). The growing disdain for older, middle- class values was evident in the spread of profanity. The prevalence of SHIT, FUCK, and other formerly taboo words testified to the new order (figure 14). When Norman Mailer wrote his first novel, The Naked and the Dead (1948), his publishers persuaded him to use fug instead of fuck. Mailer’s postmodern works have no compa- rable circumspection. Fuck and cocksucker fill the pages of The Executioner’s Song (1979). Similar language is present in other works of great seriousness, such as the novels of Philip Roth. (Incidentally, the spike between 1800 and 1815 in the graph for fuck reflects a flaw in Google’s OCR: the older letter s was misread as f.) Another change signaled by language is the growing importance of Figure 14 Frequency of shit and fuck in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 248 Social Science History women in society and literature. This trend is evident in the relative fre- quency of WOMEN and MEN in printed material (figure 15). During the sentimental era, even as mother grew more important, women barely rose in frequency. However, since 1960 men and women have switched places in the frequency of citations. The swap occurred because there were fewer refer- ences to “men”—a long- term trend—and because there were many more citations of “women.” Man or men no longer served as a synecdoche for people. Moreover, the use of mother has surpassed that of father in postmod- ern books.10 A similar pattern emerges in looking at HE and I, with I emerging as clearly predominant in the postmodern era (figure 16). References to the two pronouns had long fluctuated together, with I holding a slight edge since the 1830s, when transcendentalists and others exalted the individual. In today’s world I has become ever more common. The trend is hardly surprising in an era of confessional novels and, more recently, bloggers eager to post their innermost thoughts. Finally, one of the most striking developments of the postmodern era has been the celebration of ties between parents and children, an emotional bonding reflected in many current novels. To many observers, postmod- ern society appears chaotic, lacking the structures and rules that once held groups together. In this sometimes frightening new world, the bedrock that remains for many is the love between a parent and a child. The new con- cern for children is evident in the sharply increased references after 1960 to Figure 15 Frequency of men and women in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 249 NURTURING and TODDLER (figure 17). The trend is also evident in the reinvigoration of the term childhood, which first rose in importance during the sentimental era. Many of the key postmodern novels have at their core the tight link between a parent and a child. Works that illustrate this tie are as diverse as Toni Morrison’s Beloved (1987), Roth’s American Pastoral (1997), Richard Russo’s Empire Falls (2001), and Cormac McCarthy’s Road (2006).11 To conclude, this article argues that the study of various terms drawn from the Ngram database deepens our understanding of the evolution of American novels. Any essay such as this one, which deals with a broad sweep Figure 16 Frequency of I and he in American English database Source: Ngram database. Figure 17 Frequency of nurturing and toddler in American English database Source: Ngram database. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 250 Social Science History of literature, a powerful but imperfect database, and links between social change and literature, can hardly be taken as the final word. The conclusions set forth are necessarily hypotheses subject to further testing. Future refine- ments to the Ngram database or its successors will surely make possible more precise searches.12 Still these data, which rest on the analysis of millions of books, are too valuable to ignore even in their present form. These data con- firm the current division of US literature into four eras and sharpen the con- clusions about each of those periods. Notes I would like to thank Art Redding, Randolph Roth, Karen Wilson, and Brett Zimmer- man for their comments on an earlier version of this article. Ben Egnal created the graphs. 1 Typically, earlier overviews sought to unify American literature around a single broad theme, such as the conflict between the “people” and plutocrats (Parrington 1927), the impact of mechanization (Marx 1964), or the differences between English and American novelists (Chase 1957; Fiedler 1966). 2 The Ngram database reflects the interests of the middle class more than the out- look of the working class. Google apparently scanned very few of the hundreds of thousands of dime novels that circulated in the nineteenth century and little of the pulp fiction or popular romance literature of the twentieth century. As various schol- ars have noted, these mass circulation works often present viewpoints at odds with “middlebrow” and “highbrow” literature. For a discussion of this popular literature, see Denning 1987; Goulart 1972; Jones 1978; Reynolds 1989. 3 The year 1789, which opens this era, marks the publication of the first American- authored novel, William Hill Brown’s Power of Sympathy. 4 Other words whose use peaked during this period and which reflect the religious fer- vor of the sentimental era are Christ, confess, devil, Lord, repent, and Satan. Analysis based on the Oxford English Dictionary (Simpson 2012) suggests that the meanings of these words, and indeed of most of the terms examined in the graphs, text, and notes of this article, have not notably changed since the 1780s. For the exceptions to the rule, see the analysis of leg and limb in the text and the discussions in notes 9 and 11. However, as this article makes clear, the frequency with which words have been used has varied dramatically (ibid.). 5 Other words characteristic of the sentimental era and the newly ascendant cult of domesticity are affectionate, compassion, domestic, and submissive. 6 E- book editions, available at www.gutenberg.org, made possible the tabulations of Cooper’s word use. This same source was used for the other single- book word counts mentioned in the text. 7 An extensive literature examines Twain’s complex relationship to the genteel tradi- tion. See Brooks 1920; Kaplan 1966; Krauth 1999; and Smith 1978: 102–27. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity , o n 06 A p r 2021 at 00:59:23 , su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s . https://doi.org/10.1017/S0145553200010646 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Evolution of the Novel 251 8 Various terms whose use declines after 1900 are also markers of the breakdown of genteel values. These words include brave, hero, honor, house, respectful, sentiment, sigh, tender, and villain. Temperance also falls off but has a brief second surge in the 1920s with Prohibition. 9 According to the Oxford English Dictionary (Simpson 2012), racism with its modern meaning dates from the 1920s, while sexism as currently used emerged only in the 1960s. In earlier eras sexism was a rarely used term that referred to belonging to one gender, not discrimination against women (ibid.). 10 Similarly, grandmother has surpassed grandfather in the postmodern era. 11 The frequency of other terms that reflect the new devotion to nurturing has soared in the postmodern era. Among these words are baby, babysitter, caregiver, caring, day care, infant, and nanny. Two words, domestic and home, widely used in the sentimen- tal and genteel eras, have experienced a new vogue. The Oxford English Dictionary (Simpson 2012) suggests that babysitter dates from the 1930s, while only during the nineteenth century did toddler (see figure 17) come to mean a small child. 12 Readers may wonder whether all the words tested for this article conformed neatly to the four periods. Most did, but a few did not. Some words have multiple mean- ings. For example, a rake can be a cad or a garden implement, and its Ngram pat- tern shows little clarity. 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New York: Cambridge University Press: 427–538. Susman, Warren I. (1984) Culture as History: The Transformation of American Society in the Twentieth Century. New York: Pantheon. Tompkins, Jane (1985) Sensational Designs: The Cultural Work of American Fiction, 1790–1860. New York: Oxford University Press. Twain, Mark (1972 [1876]) Tom Sawyer. New York: Pocket. ——— (2003 [1884]) Huckleberry Finn. Berkeley: University of California Press. Welter, Barbara (1966) “The cult of true womanhood, 1820–1860.” American Quarterly 18 (2, pt. 1): 151–74. Wharton, Edith (1905) House of Mirth. New York: Scribner. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0145553200010646 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re . 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work_hijep5rt2ngfrpwn3jukaxleii	----	PANORAMICA: Usa 2015 B BURKE, Peter, What is the history of knowledge?, Cambridge-Malden, Polity Press, 2015, 160 pp. a cura di Swen STEINBERG traduzione di Alessandro SALVADOR Peter Burke, che con la sua opera Social History of Knowledge1, ha, in passato, offerto contributi essenziali per riorientare in termini storiografici le scienze umane e sociali, offre, con questo lavoro introduttivo, molto più che semplici approcci e metodi per la ancora giovane storia della conoscenza. Egli ne indica anche le fondamenta e i suoi sviluppi storici, che sono connessi a sociologi come Max Weber o Karl Mannheim e con gli approcci alla sociologia della conoscenza. La focalizzazione della storia della conoscenza, che prende in considerazione specifici patrimoni, i loro sviluppi, le distribuzioni e le modifiche, ricevette impulsi fondamentali dai dibattiti, occorsi negli anni Novanta, sulle moderne società del sapere e prende le distanze da una storia della conoscenza classica, orientata alle istituzioni, e dalla storia intellettuale, concentrata sulle persone. Dopo una breve introduzione sulla concettualizzazione storiografica della conoscenza, Burke presenta nel secondo capitolo i concetti principali: l’autorità e il monopolio della conoscenza, l’innovazione e l’interdisciplinarietà, gli ordini e le pratiche della conoscenza, il sapere situazionale ed estorto e, infine, il regime dell’ignoranza negli sviluppi consecutivi della conoscenza. Nel capitolo tre, Burke presenta le forme del sapere, differenziando le conoscenze collettanee (gathering knowledges), le conoscenze analitiche (analysing knowledges), le conoscenze diffuse 1 BURKE, Peter, A social history of knowledge: from Gutenberg to Diderot, Cambridge-Malden, Polity Press – Blackwell Publishers, 2000. Diacronie Studi di Storia Contemporanea  www.diacronie.it N. 28 | 4|2016 La voce del silenzio: intelligence, spionaggio e conflitto nel XX secolo 24/ PANORAMICA: Usa 2015 Swen STEINBERG, Elisa GRANDI * PANORAMICA: Usa 2015 Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea 2 (disseminating knowledges) e le conoscenze applicative (employing knowledges). Queste forme del sapere vengono quindi collocate in una prospettiva storica ossia fatte risalire ad essa. Nell’ultimo capitolo vengono trattati, quindi, i problemi e le prospettive della storia della conoscenza. Una cronologia e una bibliografia essenziale completano un volume molto leggibile e semplice da consultare grazie all’indice analitico. Burke argomenta infine in modo convincente che, in una prospettiva a lungo termine, una storia della conoscenza può offrire nuove strade in ottica globale o transnazionale fintanto che vengano prese in considerazione le conoscenze in movimento (knowledge on the move2) o che ci si focalizzi sui produttori della conoscenza al di là della scienza e con l’aiuto di categorie moderne (ad esempio gli aspetti di genere). BOYER, Christopher R., Political Landscapes: Forests, Conservation, and Community in Mexico, Durham, Duke University Press, 2015, 360 pp. a cura di Swen STEINBERG traduzione di Alessandro SALVADOR L’analisi di Christopher R. Boyer offre un contributo cruciale sulla storia ambientale dell’America Latina e su tematiche che vanno oltre ai centri e verso le periferie, come era già accaduto con la prospettiva post-coloniale in riferimento all’India o all’Africa. In modo non dissimile da questi lavori, Boyer non si limita a prendere in considerazione interrogativi di tipo economico o scientifico collegati alle scienze forestali e ai dibattiti sulla conservazione. Egli va oltre e riscontra ioni sociali. Racconta così la sua storia ambientale come storia sociale, prendendo ad esempio le regioni del Michoacàn e del Chihuahua. La storia della moderna scienza forestale in queste regioni viene rappresentata come un costante conflitto tra il governo, gli studiosi delle foreste, le aziende di legname (in parte straniere) e la popolazione locale. Le foreste del Messico, la cui estensione si è ridotta di quasi il 50% nel corso del ventesimo secolo, diventano quindi “panorami politici” poiché in esse si risolvono le dispute sull’utilizzo della natura o vengono fomentati conflitti tramite interventi esterni. Questo sguardo sull’agire e sul sapere di attori regionali viene contestualizzato nello sviluppo delle politiche forestali che, in Messico, hanno avuto una tendenza soprattutto liberale fino alla Seconda guerra mondiale per essere poi fortemente regolate dallo stato e approdare poi, negli anni Ottanta, ad una fase neoliberale. 2 BURKE, Peter, What is the history of knowledge?, Cambridge-Malden, Polity Press – Blackwell Publishers, 2015, p. 123. SWEN STEINBERG, ELISA GRANDI Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea 3 BERRY, Evan, Devoted to Nature: The Religious Roots of American Environmentalism, Oakland, University of California Press, 2015, 272 pp. a cura di Swen STEINBERG traduzione di Alessandro SALVADOR Lo studio di Evan Barry congiunge la ricerca sulla storia ambientale con degli interrogativi sul mondo della religione e analizza i collegamenti tra l’ambientalismo americano e la religione tra Gilded Age e l’era progressista (ca. 1877-1920) andando però, alle sue origini e, in prospettiva, ben oltre questi confini. Berry si occupa di una tematica centrale nell’autocoscienza e nell’identità degli Stati Uniti quando erano ancora un giovane stato nazionale, in cui i legami con la natura e il concetto di luogo selvaggio giocavano inizialmente – e giocano in parte anche tuttora – un ruolo fondamentale. Anche se l’influenza che personalità legate al trascendentalismo come Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller o Henry David Thoreau hanno esercitato su questi concetti è stata sufficientemente studiata, le fondamenta teologiche e gli sviluppi successivi di stampo religioso non sono state finora sufficientemente analizzate. Evan Berry può quindi concludere che l’ambientalismo americano, anche nel Ventesimo secolo, è stato fortemente influenzato da elementi religiosi e che la sua comprensione della natura si è identificata soprattutto tramite il concetto cristiano della redenzione. Questo ha portato non solo ad un forte legame identitario con la natura, ma ha anche delineato gli approcci per definire cosa sia possibile fare all’interno della natura e come essa si possa utilizzare in senso turistico o ricreativo. I collegamenti illustrati da Berry mostrano quindi il potenziale dell’analisi storico-culturale superando le cornici interpretative usuali per il XIX e XX secolo, come lo stato nazionale, e indicano applicazioni che vanno al di là del contesto degli Stati Uniti. BROCK, Emily K., Money Trees. The Douglas Fir and American Forestry, 1900-1944, Corvallis (Oregon), Oregon State University Press, 2015, 272 pp. a cura di Swen STEINBERG traduzione di Alessandro SALVADOR Il lavoro di Emily K. Brock analizza lo sviluppo delle moderne scienze forestali prendendo ad esempio il patrimonio forestale degli stati dell’Oregon e di Washington, negli USA: Brock illustra i dibattiti scientifici ed ecologici come anche le prese di posizione delle industrie del legname e le strategie delle amministrazioni statali, con le PANORAMICA: Usa 2015 Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea 4 relative implicazioni politiche. Il nodo centrale è che attorno al 1900, contemporaneamente alla crescita del movimento conservazionista, non solo si ebbe la professionalizzazione delle scienze forestali negli USA ma, a nord-ovest, si crearono delle vere e proprie Tree Farms nei vasti possedimenti del “barone del legno” Frederick Weyerahaeuser, in cui venivano piantati e fatti crescere rapidamente e in modo industriale gli abeti di Douglas. Questa economizzazione dell’ecologia, trattata spesso in modo sbrigativo nei trattati sul movimento conservazionista americano, si occupava anche della questione centrale di definire concetti come sostenibilità e senso civico. In seguito, la definizione della funzione che le foreste rivestivano per l’economia e la società cambiò, ma si sviluppò anche attraverso i metodi delle Tree Farms in un’ottica che privilegiava l’economia. Brock non riesce sempre a descrivere i diversi gruppi di attori nelle loro relazioni reciproche e anche il concetto di forestry rimane parzialmente indefinito nel suo utilizzo (scienza forestale, economia forestale o gestione delle foreste). Il lavoro di Emily K. Brock mostra però in modo convincente il potenziale di una ricerca focalizzata e centrata sugli attori che, combinata con i dibattiti scientifici, economici e pubblici, offre un contributo essenziale alla storia ambientale che, in una prospettiva comparativa, può trovare applicazione per altre regioni del mondo. PARSONS, Elaine Frantz, Ku-Klux The Birth of the Klan during Reconstruction, Chapel Hill (North Carolina), The University Of North Carolina Press, 2015, 272 pp. a cura di Elisa GRANDI Il libro di Elaine Frantz Parsons, professoressa associata della Duquesne University (Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania) fornisce il primo resoconto dettagliato delle origini e dell’affermazione del Ku Klux Klan all’indomani della Guerra Civile. A differenza di altri episodi di violenza razziale che caratterizzarono gli anni immediatamente successivi alla sconfitta degli Stati del Sud, il Klan si affermò come un fenomeno radicalmente diverso, poggiando allo stesso tempo su di un forte radicamento locale e su di una visibilità nazionale. Dosando sapientemente un livello di dettaglio nella ricostruzione degli avvenimenti mai raggiunto nella storiografia sul tema e un’analisi dell’affermazione del discorso e dell’ideologia che accompagnò l’ascesa del Klan, l’autrice si muove su due livelli di analisi: da un lato lo studio degli “uomini che agivano sul campo”, attraverso un insieme di relazioni politiche e comunitarie radicate nel territorio in cui operavano, dall’altro “l’idea del Klan” nel discorso pubblico, che viene ricostruita principalmente attraverso la stampa, locale e nazionale. Questa doppia SWEN STEINBERG, ELISA GRANDI Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea 5 prospettiva permette di dimostrare uno degli aspetti fondanti dell’analisi: la congiuntura di interessi tra bianchi del Sud e del Nord, tanto Repubblicani quanto Democratici, che permisero l’affermazione del Klan. Gli interessi rappresentati dai bianchi degli Stati del Nord amplificarono in maniera determinante il fenomeno del Ku Klux Klan, gli diedero una forma specifica permettendo che acquisisse una coerenza nazionale. PANORAMICA: Usa 2015 Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea 6 * Gli autori Swen Steinberg, storico, è professore associato in storia regionale alla Technische Universität di Dresda. Da ottobre 2014 fino a ottobre 2016 è ricercatore ospite presso la University of California Los Angeles con un finanziamento post-dottorale della Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft sul tema: Una storia transnazionale della conoscenza. Montagne, foreste e miniere tra Europa e America, 1760-1960. I suoi interessi di ricerca sono le concezioni dell’Economia del cultura, le trasformazioni economiche, la storia della conoscenza e gli studi sugli esuli. Ha pubblicato diversi libri e articoli su questi temi. Attualmente sta lavorando ad una analisi delle reti di giornalisti tedeschi esiliati in Cecoslovacchia (per «Metropol», «Berlin») e all’edizione dei carteggi di Kurt Eisner. URL: < http://www.studistorici.com/progett/autori/#Steinberg > Elisa Grandi si è laureata in Storia all’Università di Bologna nel 2005, ha ottenuto la specializzazione in Storia del Mondo contemporaneo nello stesso ateneo, nel 2007. È alumna del Collegio Superiore dell’Università di Bologna. È stata Visiting Student alla Duke University (2009), Visiting Scholar alla New School of Social Research (2010), borsista Eiffel-Excellence presso il laboratorio SEDET di Parigi (2011) e Attaché de Recherche all’Université Paris Diderot (2011-2012). Sta completando un dottorato di storia economica all’Universita Paris Diderot, in cotutela con l’Università di Bologna, sui piani di sviluppo finanziati dalla Banca Mondiale in Europa e America Latina negli anni Cinquanta e Sessanta. Dal 2012 lavora come Senior Researcher nell’Equipex DFIH (Données Financières Historiques) della Paris School of Economics e dal 2014 insegna Storia della globalizzazione all’Université Paris 7 – Denis Diderot. URL: < http://www.studistorici.com/2010/12/07/elisa_grandi/ > Per citare questo articolo: STEINBERG, Swen, GRANDI, Elisa, «Panoramica: Usa 2015», Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea : La voce del silenzio: intelligence, spionaggio e conflitto nel XX secolo, 29/12/2016, URL:< http://www.studistorici.com/2016/12/29/usa_numero_28/ > Diacronie Studi di Storia Contemporanea  www.diacronie.it Risorsa digitale indipendente a carattere storiografico. Uscita trimestrale. redazione.diacronie@hotmail.it Comitato di redazione: Jacopo Bassi – Luca Bufarale – Antonio César Moreno Cantano – Deborah Paci – Fausto Pietrancosta – Alessandro Salvador – Matteo Tomasoni – Luca Zuccolo Diritti: gli articoli di Diacronie. Studi di Storia Contemporanea sono pubblicati sotto licenza Creative Commons 3.0. Possono essere riprodotti e modificati a patto di indicare eventuali modifiche dei contenuti, di riconoscere la paternità dell’opera e di condividerla allo stesso modo. La citazione di estratti è comunque sempre autorizzata, nei limiti previsti dalla legge. 
work_his33eg5ejaxpagrb2msud3ev4	----	Études photographiques , Notes de lecture Études photographiques Notes de lecture François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Portraits photographiques (1840-1900) de la collection Wm. B. Becker / Guillaume Le Gall, La Peinture mécanique. Le diorama de Daguerre cat. exp., Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 328 p., ill. coul. et NB, 20 €. / Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 135 p., ill. coul. et NB, 22 €. Dominique de Font-Réaulx Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/etudesphotographiques/3517 ISSN : 1777-5302 Éditeur Société française de photographie Référence électronique Dominique de Font-Réaulx, « François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Portraits photographiques (1840-1900) de la collection Wm. B. Becker / Guillaume Le Gall, La Peinture mécanique. Le diorama de Daguerre », Études photographiques [En ligne], Notes de lecture, Avril 2015, mis en ligne le 07 mai 2015, consulté le 19 avril 2019. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/ etudesphotographiques/3517 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 19 avril 2019. Propriété intellectuelle http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/etudesphotographiques/3517 François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Portraits photographiques (1840-1900) de la collection Wm. B. Becker / Guillaume Le Gall, La Peinture mécanique. Le diorama de Daguerre cat. exp., Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 328 p., ill. coul. et NB, 20 €. / Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 135 p., ill. coul. et NB, 22 €. Dominique de Font-Réaulx RÉFÉRENCE François BRUNET et William B. BECKER, L’HÉRITAGE DE DAGUERRE EN AMÉRIQUE. PORTRAITS PHOTOGRAPHIQUES, cat. exp., Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 328 p., ill. coul. et NB, 20 €. / Guillaume LE GALL, LA PEINTURE MÉCANIQUE. LE DIORAMA DE DAGUERRE, Paris, Mare et Martin, 2013, 135 p., ill. coul. et NB, 22 €. 1 En 1840, malgré la réception couronnée de succès de son invention – le daguerréotype –, Jacques Louis Mandé Daguerre (1787-1851), toujours affecté par l’incendie de son diorama et de son atelier place du Château-d’Eau, quitta définitivement Paris pour s’installer à quelques kilomètres à l’est de la capitale. Il fit l’acquisition d’une belle maison bourgeoise au cœur du village de Bry-sur-Marne. En 1842, il reçut la commande d’un grand diorama pour l’église du bourg, dédiée à Saint-Gervais et à Saint-Protais, représentant le chœur d’une cathédrale gothique. Ce grand tableau lui demanda six mois de réalisation. Il fut sa François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Por... Études photographiques , Notes de lecture 1 dernière grande œuvre, où il renouait avec les thématiques architecturales de ses dioramas parisiens. La ville de Bry-sur-Marne a, dans son développement culturel, gardé la mémoire de la présence du grand inventeur tout au long du XXe siècle. Fruit d’une souscription internationale, un monument à Daguerre y fut installé dès 1897. En 1913, le diorama était inscrit sur l’Inventaire supplémentaire des monuments historiques. Le soutien de la ville et du conseil général de Seine-et-Marne n’a pas failli en ce début du XXIe siècle. Au cours de l’année 2013, l’achèvement de la restauration du diorama, commencée en 2007, et l’acquisition par la commune de l’ancienne maison de Daguerre ont offert l’occasion d’expositions, de publications et d’un cycle de conférences, dédiés à la postérité du grand homme et de ses créations. 2 On ne peut que se féliciter d’une telle initiative, qui souligne l’implication active et précieuse des collectivités locales dans le champ de la culture muséale et patrimoniale. Daguerre trouve ainsi, à Bry-sur-Marne, une reconnaissance qui lui manque encore au niveau national. Malgré l’exposition de 2003 au musée d’Orsay, malgré l’intérêt renouvelé pour le daguerréotype, son inventeur reste encore bien méconnu dans le pays qui choisit, pourtant, de le pensionner à vie en 1839. Daguerre demeure une figure controversée ; les critiques auxquelles il se heurta ont, comme souvent, leur prolongement dans l’historiographie. La diversité de ses talents – peintre, décorateur, inventeur, homme de spectacle, photographe –, ses succès – la nomination comme décorateur à l’Académie de danse et de musique, l’ouverture du diorama en 1822, la Légion d’honneur en 1824 comme peintre, la loi sur la photographie en 1839 –, sa capacité à rebondir après ses échecs – la fin de l’association avec Charles Bouton pour le premier diorama, l’incendie du diorama en 1839 – le font toujours tenir à distance. Il est qualifié d’usurpateur par les soutiens de Nicéphore Niépce – la mort de son associé en 1833, la personnalité falote du fils de ce dernier, Isidore, le choix glorieux d’un substantif fondé sur son patronyme pour désigner l’invention commune y ont contribué –, de profiteur par ceux d’Hippolyte Bayard – critique persistante où on peut lire, c’est heureux, le succès à l’époque contemporaine, de l’autoportrait en noyé, géniale métaphore de son rival. 3 Sa place, surtout, est malaisée à définir au sein de l’histoire des arts. Peintre habile mais soumis au goût de son temps, Daguerre ne se distingue pas assez de ses contemporains pour intéresser les historiens de la peinture ; il manque à ceux du théâtre et des décors d’avoir la trace, en grand et en vrai, de ses décorations scéniques qui firent l’admiration de ses contemporains – on aimerait qu’un metteur en scène s’en saisisse, sur grand écran, pour en recréer la magie et le réalisme illusionniste. Il demeure peu de ses créations photographiques en propre. Les plus belles et les plus émouvantes d’entre elles, les magnifiques natures mortes qu’il envoya aux personnalités françaises et européennes, n’ont, à ce jour, fait l’objet d’aucune étude spécifique, qui analyserait chacun des objets, leur provenance, leur taille, le lieu de la prise de vue, son éclairage ; on ne peut que souhaiter, ardemment, que la redécouverte récente, à l’Académie des beaux-arts de Saint- Pétersbourg, du triptyque envoyé au tsar Nicolas Ier suscite une analyse et une mise en valeur de ces œuvres remarquables. 4 L’étude muséale de Daguerre souffre aussi de l’organisation administrative des musées français. Contemporain de David, d’Ingres, de Granet, d’Isabey, de Delacroix, de Delaroche, de Barye, de David d’Angers, profondément ancré dans l’art de son temps, celui des décennies 1810, 1820, 1830, l’ensemble de ses créations, peintures, décors, photographies, date d’une période artistique dont les œuvres sont conservées et exposées au Louvre. Sa reconnaissance comme inventeur de la photographie le fait étudier au François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Por... Études photographiques , Notes de lecture 2 musée d’Orsay, au regard d’œuvres postérieures ; il est ainsi complexe de saisir son originalité, de comprendre sa manière subtile et efficace à mêler magie et réalisme, quête de l’illusion et véracité, qui sous-tend toute son œuvre. Depuis l’exposition, à la Bibliothèque nationale, de Jean Adhémar en 1961, « Daguerre et les premiers daguerréotypes français », aucun grand projet national ne lui a été dédié. L’érudite et passionnante monographie, rédigée en anglais par Stephen Pinson, que nous avions recensée ici, est toujours inédite en français, malgré nos efforts. 5 C’est à la lumière de cette injustice historique et de ces manques cruels que l’on doit analyser les deux ouvrages, fort différents, publiés par les éditions Mare et Martin, en lien avec les événements organisés à Bry-sur-Marne et à Lagny-sur-Marne. Ils ont, chacun dans leur genre, le grand mérite d’exister et, en abordant des sujets inédits en français, d’offrir de nouveaux champs à la connaissance et à l’étude. Le livre de Guillaume Le Gall, La Peinture mécanique. Le diorama de Daguerre, vise à remettre en contexte le diorama restauré de l’église de Bry-sur-Marne et à rappeler l’autre invention majeure du créateur, souvent éclipsée par la photographie. Sa présentation est agréable – le texte en une large colonne, l’usage des citations, les illustrations en couleurs, la mise en exergue de détails, le style heureux, contribuent à une lecture aisée. 6 L’étude de Le Gall se fonde sur des critiques contemporaines de Daguerre – notamment grâce au fonds rassemblé à la George Eastman House – et doit beaucoup aux ouvrages, anciens, d’Adrien Mentienne, premier biographe de l’inventeur, et de Georges Potonniée. Il s’enrichit des études qui ont préparé la restauration du diorama de Bry ; le chapitre du livre qui lui est dédié est un des plus intéressants. Grâce aux découvertes faites par les restaurateurs, grâce aux projets de réinstallation, les effets souhaités par Daguerre pour l’église de son village apparaissent de manière claire. Comme l’écrit Le Gall, « cette longue nef en trompe l’œil est une fenêtre ouverte sur les révolutions optiques du XIXe siècle ». Peinture profane dans un lieu sacré, le diorama de Saint-Gervais et Saint-Protais évoque ainsi les spectacles parisiens de son auteur. Il montre aussi, combien, malgré le succès du daguerréotype, le diorama demeurait, pour celui qui ne cessa de se présenter que comme le double inventeur du diorama et du daguerréotype, une de ses réalisations les plus chères. Le livre remplit donc sa mission, de donner envie de voir, et de revoir, le diorama restauré. C’est une qualité essentielle. 7 La nécessité de coller à l’actualité, sans doute, n’a pas permis à l’ouvrage de prendre une dimension plus vaste ; ce n’était probablement pas, par ailleurs, l’intention de son auteur. Historien brillant de la photographie, Guillaume Le Gall a travaillé plus souvent sur la création du XXe siècle que sur celle du XIXe siècle. Malgré sa connaissance du sujet, c’est en historien du XXe siècle qu’il aborde l’art de Daguerre. Son titre le révèle ; en qualifiant, non sans brio, le diorama de « peinture mécanique », en se fondant sur sa nature animée, Le Gall retient de l’invention du diorama plus le procédé qui le sous-tendit que son esprit. L’animation ainsi renvoie au mécanisme et au dispositif, en occultant la référence à l’anima , à la pensée du projet de Daguerre et à son désir de satisfaire le désir de merveilleux du public, visiteurs de sa salle de spectacle. 8 La création du diorama, en effet, se comprend au regard d’un renouveau de l’art de la peinture et de celui du théâtre dont il est contemporain. Il serait passionnant d’analyser ce que l’invention de Daguerre leur doit. Marié à une femme d’origine britannique, Daguerre fut un des témoins et un des acteurs de l’anglomanie de son temps ; il vint chercher les sujets de ses tableaux pour le diorama, comme leurs effets, dans le roman noir anglais et dans les œuvres, tout juste alors parues en français, des romans de Walter François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Por... Études photographiques , Notes de lecture 3 Scott. La fortune nouvelle du théâtre shakespearien dont la représentation en anglais d’ Hamlet au théâtre de l’Odéon en 1827 témoigne, la publication cette même année du Cromwell du jeune Victor Hugo et de sa préface fameuse, plaidoyer pour le romantisme et ses drames, attestent de la vigueur des débats autour des enjeux de la représentation au cours des années 1820. L’influence des effets du diorama sur la peinture de son temps serait également un sujet passionnant et riche, qui permettrait de retrouver la place singulière de Daguerre peintre et homme de spectacle. La mise en œuvre d’un ou plusieurs projets de recherche portant sur la Restauration et la monarchie de Juillet, associant historiens de la peinture, du théâtre, de la danse, de la photographie, serait une initiative heureuse. 9 Si le livre de Guillaume Le Gall porte sur un avant à l’invention photographique, celui de François Brunet et de William Becker est consacré à la fortune du daguerréotype aux É tats-Unis, nation alors aussi nouvelle que cet art neuf. Formant le catalogue de l’exposition qui a eu lieu à la maison Daguerre de Bry-sur-Marne et au musée Gatien-Bonnet de Lagny- sur-Marne (ville où Louis Adolphe Humbert de Molard eut sa maison), il cherche à souligner l’originalité du développement du portrait daguerrien en Amérique du Nord. La collection rassemblée par Becker, par sa richesse et son originalité, constitue ainsi un support intéressant à une telle étude. 10 Par un texte venant clore le catalogue, Brunet élude toute critique à dédier une exposition publique à une seule collection privée, en rappelant le rôle essentiel des collectionneurs de daguerréotypes aux États-Unis. Leur entreprise, de longue haleine, est au service de la communauté scientifique en offrant de rassembler et de conserver des images qui auraient disparu. Lui faisant écho, The Daguerreian Society – la plus ancienne société liée au daguerréotype, fondée, de manière très significative, aux États-Unis – tint son colloque annuel à Paris au moment de l’exposition de Bry. Brunet évoque aussi leur approche singulière et sensible. Les petits textes de Becker, ponctuant le livre, révèlent comment son choix des images acquises s’est fondé sur un rapport à l’intime et à la narration. Il fut séduit par l’habileté des photographes, même ceux demeurés anonymes, à se saisir de leur sujet. Il met en valeur, dans son essai au catalogue, le nécessaire dialogue entre photographe et modèle et, sans doute, la participation active de ces derniers à la réalisation de leurs portraits. L’une des forces d’une telle collection est de réunir, à côté de quelques grands chefs-d’œuvre – notamment plusieurs plaques de Southworth and Hawes –, des daguerréotypes d’une production plus commune, reflet des usages du temps. Brunet fut, il l’écrit dans sa préface, séduit par une telle opportunité. 11 L’essai introductif de Brunet est passionnant ; si la France donna, grâce à la loi sur la photographie votée en juillet 1839 à l’initiative de François Arago, « la photographie au monde », ce fut aux États-Unis que naquit le portrait au daguerréotype, mis au point par plusieurs photographes américains dès l’automne 1839 ou l’hiver 1840. Daguerre avait pressenti le succès à venir de son invention dans ce domaine ; l’histoire américaine lui donna raison. Brunet montre que la réussite du daguerréotype y dépassa les frontières de l’histoire de la représentation pour devenir un phénomène social, économique et politique. « Le portrait au daguerréotype est l’expression privilégiée de l’individualité et de sa relation à la collectivité », écrit-il. Il ajoute que l’adjectif daguerreian a acquis, en anglais américain, une signification et un usage que n’a pas le – peu usité – daguerrien en français. Il incarne, ainsi, l’idéal démocratique de la photographie première. Le daguerréotype arriva aux États-Unis par l’intermédiaire de Samuel Morse, au moment où naissait cette société démocratique, décrite par Alexis de Tocqueville. Il fut, comme le dit François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Por... Études photographiques , Notes de lecture 4 Brunet, accueilli comme un miroir de la société, une métaphore de la démocratie, un instrument de la démocratisation. Il s’est aussi, dans une visée très américaine, attaché à exalter les vertus de l’homme ou de la femme ordinaire, à mettre en valeur les sentiments qui l’unissaient à ses proches. Le portrait de groupe connut, dans cette nation jeune où chacun compte mais où tous se doivent à la collectivité, un succès qu’il n’eut pas en France. 12 L’absence de structures institutionnelles dans le domaine de la création artistique permit un développement du portrait daguerrien sans se heurter aux réticences élevées par l’Académie des beaux-arts et ses membres en France. Se publièrent ainsi, dès les années 1840, plusieurs textes théoriques ou littéraires autour de l’invention de Daguerre et ses développements ; Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Ralph Waldo Emerson lui consacrèrent de nombreuses pages et interrogations. Cet appareil critique n’eut pas son équivalent en France, patrie de l’invention. Le lecteur trouvera là les images d’une nation en train de croître et de fortifier, avec une mise en perspective double, érudite et sensible, qui retiendra son attention. 13 On peut regretter cependant que cet ouvrage au sujet riche, qui ouvre de nombreuses pistes de recherches comparées entre la France et les États-Unis, n’ait pas été doté d’une bibliographie, malgré les nombreuses notes qui enrichissent la lecture. Des notices plus complètes sur chacune des œuvres auraient été bienvenues. Surtout, il est dommage que l’éditeur n’ait pas eu la même attention à la mise en pages et aux reproductions des œuvres qu’il mit au service de l’ouvrage de Guillaume Le Gall. Malgré leur taille, les illustrations ne parviennent pas à transcrire la magie des images daguerriennes. François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Por... Études photographiques , Notes de lecture 5 François Brunet et William B. Becker, L’héritage de Daguerre en Amérique. Portraits photographiques (1840-1900) de la collection Wm. B. Becker / Guillaume Le Gall, La Peinture mécanique. Le diorama de Daguerre 
work_hpdd2knsvvbzblid5hl7o2erbm	----	SF 75(2).indb Southern Forests 2013, 75(2): 71–80 Printed in South Africa — All rights reserved Copyright © NISC (Pty) Ltd S O U T H E R N F O R E S T S ISSN 2070-2620 EISSN 2070-2639 http://dx.doi.org/10.2989/20702620.2013.800757 Review Paper Global forest research, science education and community service positively impacted by a unique Centre of Excellence in Tree Health Biotechnology Emma T Steenkamp and Michael J Wingfield* Department of Microbiology and Plant Pathology, DST–NRF Centre of Excellence in Tree Health Biotechnology, Forestry and Agricultural Biotechnology Institute, University of Pretoria, Pretoria 0002, South Africa * Corresponding author, e-mail: mike.wingfield@fabi.up.ac.za Despite their importance in ecosystems and biodiversity, very little is known about the health of trees in the native environments of South Africa. The vision and primary goal of the Centre of Excellence in Tree Health Biotechnology (CTHB) is therefore to promote the health of native trees by making use of biotechnology. In this paper, we use the CTHB as an example to explore the positive impacts of the Department of Science and Technology’s Centre of Excellence programme on the science system of South Africa and, furthermore, to consider the programme’s overall contribution to the strategic priorities set out in the South African Government’s Medium Term Strategic Framework that guides the national mandate. We also discuss briefly how the outputs of the CTHB are put into practice in the form of tangible services provided to stakeholders from all sectors ranging from academia, the forestry industry and the general public through to government. Finally, we consider the various factors that have contributed to the success of the CTHB and conclude with a reflection on the far-reaching effects that a relatively small investment by the Department of Science and Technology has had on research and development in South Africa. This is not only in terms of human capacity development, but also overall research excellence. For the CTHB specifically, this initiative also has facilitated a deep appreciation of the factors threatening the health of native trees. Such knowledge provides a crucial foundation towards our understanding of the challenges associated with trees in native woody ecosystems and those propagated commercially, which have emerged and will continue to emerge as a result of trade, transport and tourism, as well as climate change. Keywords: long-term funding, multidisciplinary research, pests and pathogens, postgraduate education, tree health About one-third of the total land area of South Africa is occupied by woodlands (wooded grasslands and dense thickets) and forests (0.5% natural forests and 1.1% forestry plantations) (DAFF 2013a). These areas play important roles in the South African bioeconomy (e.g. Nambiar 1999, Shackleton et al. 2001). For example, commercial forestry annually contributes to about 1% of the national gross domestic product and 1.4% of the total formal employ- ment (DAFF 2013a), and the various products associ- ated with natural forests and woodlands have significant impacts on rural livelihoods (Shackleton and Shackleton 2004). In addition to these products and outputs, forests and woodlands also provide diverse ecosystem services ranging from soil and water resource conservation through to carbon sequestration and climate change mitiga- tion (e.g. Shvidenko et al. 2005, Brockerhoff et al. 2008). Although declines in the quantity and quality of these services and products, especially in native ecosystems, have been linked to human activity (e.g. Le Maitre et al. 2007), little is known regarding the health of woody species in natural forests and woodlands. The research of the Centre of Excellence in Tree Health Biotechnology (CTHB; http://www.fabinet.up.ac. za/cthb) focuses on the application of biotechnology to promote the health of trees indigenous to South Africa. Despite the fact that tree diseases and pests are respon- sible for dramatic losses to native ecosystems in many parts of the world (Wingfield et al. 2010, 2011), virtually no previous research has attempted to understand how these factors might impact on South African biodiversity. Focus on the latter reflects the main area of activity during the first half of the CTHB’s existence. The Centre recently further expanded its research scope to include questions regarding the possible effects that factors such as plant genetics and physiology, climate change, and human needs in terms of food, medicine, fibre and fuel may have on the health of native trees. With its unique research focus, the CTHB thus represents the first concerted effort to understand the health of plants in native South African woody ecosystems. The CTHB is one of the nine Centres of Excellence (CoEs) supported by the South African Department of Science Introduction Southern Forests is co-published by NISC (Pty) Ltd and Taylor & Francis D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Steenkamp and Wingfield72 and Technology (DST) and National Research Foundation (NRF) (NRF 2013). Overall, the CoEs seek to concentrate existing resources in order to facilitate long-term multidis- ciplinary research that is both locally relevant and interna- tionally competitive. Here, the ultimate objective is to enhance the pursuit of research excellence and capacity development. These core values have been actively pursued subsequent to the establishment of the CTHB in 2004 and its formal launch early in 2005. The CTHB has been developed as one of the research platforms in the Forestry and Agricultural Biotechnology Institute (FABI; http://www.fabinet.up.ac.za), which is a postgraduate research institute that was established in 1998 at the University of Pretoria (UP). FABI also houses the internationally recognised Tree Protection Co-operative Programme (TPCP; http://www.fabinet.up.ac.za/TPCP), now a 24-year-old research initiative established and part funded by the South African forestry industry to conduct research on pests and diseases threatening the long-term sustaina- bility of plantation forestry in South Africa. It was, therefore, fitting that the CTHB was chosen to function alongside this programme, which already had a substantial international footprint in the field of tree health. In fact, the relationship between the two research programmes (CTHB and TPCP) is highly synergistic because of the human and intellectual resources available to the combined programmes. The cooperative interaction between the CTHB and TPCP also extends to their complementary research objectives and activities. This is because their partnership allows for the exploration of research questions that would not have been feasible without their distinct, but interlocking, areas (native ecosystems and plantations) of interest. An example that clearly illustrates the impact of the CTHB–TPCP collaboration comes from the work done on Chrysoporthe austroafricana. This fungus is native to South Africa and capable of affecting hosts in the order Myrtales, which also includes non-native plantation-grown Eucalyptus species, and on which it causes the debilitating disease Chrysoporthe canker (Gryzenhout et al. 2009) (Figure 1). Through their synergistic research, the TPCP and CTHB have not only promoted an understanding of the potential impacts of this pathogen on native trees in the Myrtales, but they have also contributed substantially to the development and implementation of strategies to avoid the effects of Chrysoporthe canker in commercial plantations (Gryzenhout et al. 2009). Even in cases where a specific pathogen or insect pest is relevant exclusively to the TPCP or CTHB, the knowledge produced from the respective research activities has invariably been used to promote the health of both native and non-native trees. Thus, the lessons learned during the pursuit of plantation tree health provide substan- tial value towards ensuring the health of trees in native ecosystems and vice versa. The CTHB represents a cooperative programme that is both multidisciplinary and inter-institutional, which is consistent with the vision of the broader CoE programme. The Centre’s 10 initial core team members included authorities in the fields of microbiology, entomology, plant pathology, molecular biology and genetics at UP, as well as a forestry scientist from the University of KwaZulu- Natal, and established researchers at the Medical Research Council’s Programme on Mycotoxins and Experimental Carcinogenesis (PROMEC), the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR) and the Centraalbureau voor Schimmelcultures (CBS) in The Netherlands. As a result of the increase in its funding base in 2009 and the subsequent expansion of the CTHB’s research scope, the Centre now includes 27 PhD-level research scientists specialising in the additional fields of botany, forest ecology, ecosystem ecology, conservation ecology, resource ecology, plant physiology and wood science. The 2012 core team is made up of 13 members of staff from UP and the CBS, as well as 14 researchers from the Agricultural Research Council (ARC) and other higher education institutions (HEIs) in South Africa (i.e. Rhodes University, University of Cape Town, University of Stellenbosch, University of the Free State and University of the Witwatersrand). The CTHB is, therefore, structured as a virtual CoE that conducts scientific research via a collaborative network with its node at FABI. Alignment of the CTHB’s vision with the South African National Challenges Like most initiatives supported by public funds, the objectives of the DST/NRF CoE programme are tightly linked to government’s Medium Term Strategic Framework (MTSF) that guides the national mandate (South African Government 2009). This is also true for individual CoEs, no less the CTHB, where performance is measured against the envisaged outcomes or deliverables (South African Government 2010) reflected in the MTSF. Understandably, there are important intrinsic differences in the research focus of the various CoEs, and this clearly implies that their expected outputs are subtly different. With its research focus on the health of native woody plants, the CTHB’s objectives are well aligned with the national challenges involving sustainable livelihoods and resource management (MTSF strategic priority 1: Speeding up growth and transforming the economy to create decent work and sustainable livelihoods and MTSF strategic (a) (b) Figure 1: The characteristic cankers caused by the fungus Chrysoporthe austroafricana on native Syzigium cordatum (a) and non-native plantation-grown Eucalyptus (b) D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Southern Forests 2013, 75(2): 71–80 73 priority 9: Sustainable resource management and use). For example, a number of the Centre’s ongoing research projects explore the link between woody resource utilisa- tion and tree/ecosystem health, which is important to protect and maintain native ecosystems and biodiver- sity. The current and past research of the CTHB has also facilitated a deep appreciation of the insect and microbial diversity associated with South Africa’s native environ- ments (e.g. Cruywagen et al. 2010, Roets et al. 2010, van der Linde et al. 2011). This has revealed considerable movement of insect pests and microbial pathogens between and among native and non-native tree hosts (e.g. Slippers et al. 2005, Heath et al. 2006, Perez et al. 2010). Apart from emphasising the apparent threats to our native ecosys- tems (e.g. Roux et al. 2007, Mehl et al. 2010), this research has also highlighted the links between the health of native species and those commercially cultivated. This is primarily due to the ability of certain native pests and pathogens to infest/infect commercially important species, resulting in significant economic losses (e.g. Pavlic et al. 2007, Heath et al. 2010, Wingfield et al. 2010). The CTHB and its partner programme, the TPCP, are also actively involved in studying and identifying non-native pests and pathogens, the introduction of which represent a huge threat to South Africa’s naturally occurring and planted trees species (Wingfield et al. 2010, 2011). Together with the TPCP, the research activities of the CTHB are strongly focused on developing strategies to limit the threats that pathogens and insect pests pose to the South African woody resource base. These programmes have produced and continue to build bases of information central to the development of effective pest and disease management strategies, as well as quarantine measures to prevent their introduction and spread in South Africa (Richardson et al. 2007, Lu et al. 2011, Garnas et al. 2012). At a global level, members of the team have also engaged in various initiatives such as the development of the Montesclaros Declaration (IUFRO 2012) that seeks to reduce the dangerous practice of moving plant material globally. The joint CTHB–TPCP research outputs thus contribute meaningfully to the sustainability of the South African industries and livelihoods that are dependent on the woody resources of the country. Plant pathogens and insect pests do not recognise national borders and the tree health problems experi- enced in one country are not necessarily restricted to that region (Perrings 2010, Slippers and Kassen 2012). This is even more so for African countries, where borders are known to be relatively ‘porous’ and raw plant material is easily transported from one country to another. Because of the high probability of pest or pathogen introduc- tions into South Africa from other African countries, the CTHB and the TPCP have developed a strong collabora- tive network with scientists at HEIs and research institutes in African countries with similar types of woody resources. They include Zimbabwe, Mozambique and Malawi in the Southern African Development Community (SADC), as well as Uganda and Cameroon. Given the dynamic nature of these collaborations, which involve interaction at all levels of research and postgraduate education, numerous tree health threats have been identified and strategies have been or are being developed to deal with their imminent arrival. A key example is found in the participation of CTHB in the Forest Invasive Species Network for Africa (FISNA; http://www.fao. org/forestry/fisna/en/), a hugely important African initiative to monitor the movement of tree pests and pathogens on the continent. The CTHB and its collaborators thus participate actively in pursuing economic and environmental sustaina- bility in the host countries involved and in Africa as a whole (MTSF strategic priority 8: Pursuing African advancement and enhanced international cooperation). The broad and multidisciplinary research focus of the CTHB makes the Centre ideally situated for participation in the national challenges involving human resource develop- ment (MTSF strategic priority 4: Strengthen the skills and human resource base). This is mainly because the activi- ties of the CTHB, as for most other CoEs, primarily function at research-intensive HEIs. This allows for the efficient use of scientific research as a primary educational tool for postgraduate learning. For example, the CTHB annually supports the research activities and/or bursaries for a large number of postgraduate students (Figure 2), and by the end of 2012 has produced 40 MSc and 31 PhD graduates since its launch in 2005. In addition, the close linkage with the TPCP also affords opportunities for students in the CTHB programme to expand their knowledge base to the commer- cial and industrial sectors. Like other CoEs, the CTHB has needed to work intensively to improve the demographic profile of its student body (Figure 2). In this regard, it has pursued various initia- tives to attract South African students from traditionally Figure 2: Students supported through bursaries by the CTHB from 2005 to 2012. These numbers do not include students with bursaries from other sources, but that have research projects funded by the CTHB. The proportion of students from previously disadvantaged backgrounds that are supported through CTHB bursaries are indicated by the black line Doctoral Masters Honours Black 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 N U M B E R O F S T U D E N T S YEAR D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Steenkamp and Wingfield74 disadvantaged backgrounds into the programme. Although all CoEs have reported reasonable levels of success in improving their demographic composition, the overall situation must still be improved considerably. Perhaps the issues in need of most attention are the working environ- ment and the associated benefits in South African HEIs and research institutes. To prospective students from poor backgrounds, these are generally perceived to be less attractive than those in, for example, the private sector (Herman 2011, Wingfield 2011). Nevertheless, together with all the other CoEs, the CTHB has strongly supported the ‘PhD as a driver’ policy of the NRF, which in turn contributes significantly to the knowledge economy of South Africa. The importance of mentorship in the continuum of science learning is well recognised (Phillips and Pugh 2000), especially when ‘developmental relationships’ among undergraduate and postgraduate students are considered (Barker and Pitts 1997, Reddick et al. 2012). Following this view, the CTHB initiated an undergraduate mentorship programme in 2005, which annually targets approximately 20 second- and third-year BSc students that have potential to follow long-term careers in science (Figure 3). Because undergraduate students are mentored by CTHB postgraduates or postdoctoral fellows, the initiative promotes learning at both the undergraduate and postgrad- uate levels. On the one hand, the mentees are introduced to postgraduate studies and the culture of science, while on the other hand, mentors are provided with the opportunity to refine their teaching and mentorship skills. Also, mentees invariably communicate their experiences in the programme to their peers, with the effect that the broader student body becomes better informed regarding careers in science and the opportunities associated with this field. Based on the success of this CTHB initiative (i.e. the majority of the mentees in the programme have continued with postgrad- uate studies), the Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Science at UP has established an identical mentorship programme, which is likewise showing a similar positive impact. Clearly, similar initiatives at other institutions should be strongly promoted to increase national postgraduate student numbers and to advance throughput rates. Apart from promoting postgraduate learning, the CTHB has placed a strong emphasis on providing high-school learners with information regarding their post-secondary education opportunities (Figure 3). In order to achieve this goal, the CTHB participates extensively in two student outreach programmes: ‘UP with Science’ and MRYE (Mpepu Rural Youth Encouragement). ‘UP with Science’ (a) (b) (c) (d) Figure 3: Education and outreach activities of the CTHB. (a) A group of postgraduate mentors and undergraduate mentees who participated in the CTHB mentorship programme. (b) Members of the CTHB-sponsored and -mentored MRYE group, which promotes tertiary-level education among high-school learners in rural areas. (c) Primary-school learners participating in the CTHB exhibition during the Department of Science and Technology’s National Science Week. (d) High-school learners participating in an ‘Up with Science’ laboratory-based project together with their postgraduate mentor D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Southern Forests 2013, 75(2): 71–80 75 is a science enrichment programme designed to actively engage students in the City of Tshwane Municipality and runs out of UP’s Science Centre (http://www.upwithscience. up.ac.za/), while high schools in rural areas mostly outside the borders of Gauteng represent the main audience of the MRYE programme (http:// www.mrye.org). Again, based on the successes reported for both outreach programmes, as well as those for other smaller outreach projects with CTHB involvement, this Centre contributes significantly to the national objective of broadening access to post-secondary education. Without doubt, improvements in the national higher-education throughput targets to ultimately strengthen the human resource base of South Africa, would only be possible through concerted efforts involving initia- tives aimed at learners in both secondary and tertiary educational institutions. Research outputs – impact and implementation All CoEs have, as one of the basic requirements of the DST/NRF CoE progrramme, the obligation to provide services to stakeholders in government, industry and/ or civil society. The key component of these services is the knowledge that has been produced, while service delivery or provision is intrinsically dependent on research excellence. From scientific and academic points of view, the knowledge produced by the Centre has consider- able impact. This is clearly illustrated by the numbers of citations in scientific journals that have been accumulated by the Centre’s published articles (Figure 4). It is further emphasised by a value of 29 (according to the Thomson Reuters Web of KnowledgeTM) for the so-called h-index (Hirsch 2005), which is used to capture productivity and quality of research (i.e. 29 of the articles published since the Centre’s launch have been cited 29 times or more). With this track record, and its focus on native tree health, the CTHB is well positioned to render services to stakeholders in the academic, government, public and private sectors. As part of the programme’s role to render service, CTHB researchers serve on expert committees, advisory panels and editorial boards. These committees and panels include working groups dealing with issues pertaining to native and non-native tree health, as well as various scientific associa- tions and societies aimed at promoting specific disciplines or science in general. Through their service on advisory boards, members of the CTHB provide leadership and guidance for various professional organisations and institutions in South Africa. In this abbreviated document, it is not possible to provide details of the many examples of service rendering by individuals to research institutions and organisations, but these are well illustrated on the web site of the CTHB. From an applied or practical perspective, the knowledge produced by the CTHB has numerous spinoffs in terms of pest and pathogen diagnostics and surveillance (Figure 5). The joint CTHB–TPCP programmes maintain a world-class disease Diagnostic Clinic in FABI. This facility provides an important service to the South African forestry industry, institutions working with native trees and to the general public. Various members of the CTHB also undertake routine surveys to monitor, detect and diagnose tree health problems in native forests and woody ecosystems, which also extend to other African countries that are part of the CTHB’s collaborative network. The information collected by the Diagnostic Clinic and during surveys allows for a better understanding of existing pests and pathogens and is also a crucially important component of pest/pathogen risk analyses (Anderson et al. 2004, Sturrock et al. 2010). Access to this knowledge makes it possible to assist government in developing initiatives and legislation to safeguard South African woody resources against invasive insect pests and microbial pathogens. However, such protective strategies can only succeed when information regarding pests and pathogens is efficiently disseminated among key stakeholders (Miller et al. 2009). As a result, the joint CTHB and TPCP programmes have a strong field extension focus (Figure 5), which involves the presenta- tion of talks at field days and research meetings, popular science articles in newsletters and newspapers, and radio interviews that are all aimed at educating stakeholders on tree health. Importantly, the maintenance of the internet list server ‘TreeHealthNet’ includes more than 500 South Africans that receive regular updates on key issues relating to tree health in the country. The use of scientific knowledge to inform government policy graphically illustrates how research outputs are put into practice. In this regard, the newly developed National Forest Protection Strategy for South Africa is an excellent example. Prior to its publication (DAFF 2013b), South Africa Figure 4: Citation report for articles published in international peer-reviewed journals by researchers of the CTHB from 2005 to 2012. The data for this report were obtained using the Thomson Reuters Web of KnowledgeTM (accessed 25 January 2013), which was also used to generate the citation statistics. Note that these data only include the papers produced by the members of the CTHB at University of Pretoria, and not those produced by members of the extended programme at other HEIs and the ARC Total number of articles published Total number of citations 100 200 300 400 500 600 700 800 900 1 000 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 N U M B E R O F T IM E S C IT E D N U M B E R O F A R T IC LE S YEAR D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Steenkamp and Wingfield76 lacked a defined strategy to deal with the impact of pests, pathogens and fire on forests. Members of the CTHB team played a pivotal role in developing this strategy, signifi- cantly drawing from the research and knowledge generated by the CoE. Likewise, members of the team have partici- pated in the development of the regulations for the National Environmental Management: Biodiversity Act for South Africa (DEAT 2004). A value-for-money investment The DST/NRF CoE programme has been hugely successful and all Centres have performed superbly across all of the key performance indicators defined for them (NRF 2009). The view that the CTHB represents a ‘good-value-for- money’ investment was emphasised by the 2009 expert Review Panel (NRF 2009) who concluded that Given the exceptional productivity of the Centre to date, there is little doubt that futher NRF/DST funding of this important work would be well spent. From the CTHB’s perspective, the successes of the programme can be attributed to four main factors. Firstly, as a formally constituted CoE, the CTHB has concentrated the resources and research activi- ties of a large number of scientists within a common broad research focus – the health of native woody plants. There are two key issues here: focus, which is critical to research excellence, and critical mass, which has catalysed energy and a common goal among the participants. Secondly, the funding model of the programme has made it possible to pursue long-term multidisciplinary research initiatives, which are uncommon in the academic environment. Thirdly, the CTHB’s alliance with the TPCP has stimulated research into areas at the intersection of native and plantation tree health. Not surprisingly, the pursuit of questions at the intersection of these research areas (i.e. the so-called Medici Effect; Johannson 2004) has allowed for significant paradigm changes in the promotion of tree health. A fourth and equally important factor that has contributed to the success of the CTHB is a spinoff of the first three factors, which represents what might be termed a Leverage Effect. This (a) (b) (c) (d) Figure 5: Field research and extension work conducted by the CTHB. (a) CTHB scientists searching for Ceratocystis species and their insect vectors on elephant-damaged trees in the Kruger National Park. (b) Students of the CTHB examining fungal fruiting bodies on a felled log in Mozambique. (c) Members of the CTHB conducting an on-site diagnosis of a diseased camel thorn tree in the Northern Cape province. (d) The CTHB participates in a tree health information session in the field, which is attended by members of the general public, farmers and foresters D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Southern Forests 2013, 75(2): 71–80 77 has captured tremendous advantages for the academics, students and stakeholders of the CTHB. There is no question that the CoE status of the CTHB and the funding linked to it have allowed for significant leveraging of new research funding. This primarily arises from the synergy between the CTHB and the TPCP that draw considerably from and complement one another. The ultimate outcome is not only a positive impact on the health of native woody ecosystems, but also sustainability of commercial forestry. Through the outcomes of the CTHB, it has become patently clear that research efforts on both native trees and plantation forestry depend crucially on each other, which is further reflected by the new industry funding that has been leveraged after the establish- ment of the CTHB. The research of the CTHB and TPCP programmes also has led to new research questions that compliment tree health research, but that fall outside the core focus areas of these two programmes independently. Pursuit of these new research questions would not have been possible without the existing research framework of the collective CTHB and TPCP programmes and the synergies between them. Similar arguments can also be made for the CTHB research conducted at other HEIs, where access to CTHB resources and capacity has enabled individual researchers to secure additional funding and to explore new research questions. The CTHB’s leveraging power is also evident in its human resource base. Because of the Centre’s reputa- tion of research excellence and its stable funding model, the CTHB has, for example, successfully leveraged five academic positions from its host institution. The dynamic nature of CTHB research has also attracted numerous postgraduate students and postdoctoral fellows, and to accommodate them bursaries have been and continue to be leveraged from various national and international funding agencies. Likewise, based on the positive outcomes of the field extension work conducted by the CTHB and TPCP, a number of technical positions have been leveraged from the South African forestry industry to promote knowledge brokerage and to expand field extension activities. Although the human resources gained through this Leverage Effect are difficult to quantify precisely in terms of monetary value, they represent tangible by-products of the CTHB’s reputation of research excellence and the stable funding from the DST. From a financial point of view, it is perhaps easiest to quantify the leveraging power of the CTHB where research infrastructure and facilities are considered. For example, the joint CTHB–TPCP programmes have leveraged or contributed to the leveraging of various large research equipment or facilities (e.g. high-throughput next-genera- tion sequencing facilities, automated DNA sequencers, real-time PCR machines and phytotron/incubation facili- ties). Another notable example is the leverage that has made it possible to build a R6 million facility on the UP Experimental Farm to undertake research on the biolog- ical control of forest pests threatening commercial forestry in South Africa (Roux et al. 2012). Biological control represents the most effective and environmentally safe means to deal with problems that are and will continue to threaten industrial development, woody resource sustain- ability and job creation in South Africa. In addition, capacity in developing biological control agents is equally important for native woody ecosystems as they are challenged by invasive alien pests, which could include those affecting plantation trees. Undeniably, the success of the CTHB and the many students involved in this Centre provided the core motivation that led to the funding becoming available to establish the FABI Biological Control Centre. Amongst the many positive impacts of the CTHB, this CoE has also contributed significantly to the development of inter- and intra-institutional collaboration, which in turn has promoted substantial synergy and critical mass to deal with tree health issues. At the time that the CoE was awarded in 2004, FABI was a newly formed research institute and the CTHB provided it with considerable impetus that had not been anticipated when FABI was established in 1998. The CTHB also has had a substantially positive impact on the development of other research programmes in FABI, which competes well with many similar institutes interna- tionally. In addition, by being hosted in FABI, the CTHB has been able to build strong linkages with other departments in UP’s Faculty of Natural and Agricultural Sciences. Likewise, at the inter-institutional level, the CTHB has established a highly dynamic collaborative network of research scientists, both locally and abroad. The CTHB further maintains dynamic collaborations with the South African National Parks Board, the Department of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries, the ARC, the Department of Trade and Industry, and virtually the entire forestry industry of South Africa. No less important, the CTHB connects researchers in other African countries, which is important for the development of science, technology and education broadly on the African continent. Conclusions The rationale behind the establishment of the DST/ NRF CoE programme was to stimulate sustained distinc- tion in research while at the same time developing highly qualified human resource capacity. If the CTHB is used as an example against which to measure the success of this initiative (Figure 6), the DST/NRF CoE programme has accomplished exactly what it set out to do, and more. From the brief overview presented here of the activities and outputs of the CTHB, it is obvious that this Centre has established a distinctive niche in South Africa’s science system. It uses its resources and infrastruc- ture to conduct research, participate in human resource development and provide services to stakeholders from all sectors. The outputs of these activities, in turn, allow the Centre to contribute meaningfully to at least four of the 10 National strategic priorities. Similar contributions are also made by most of the other CoEs, which illustrates clearly how a relatively small investment by DST (R50 million in 2010/2011; NRF 2011) can be used to contribute to the ultimate enhancement of economic growth and develop- ment and the welfare of the people of South Africa. Across the board, the DST/NRF CoEs have had a remarkably positive impact on research, science education and community service in South Africa and the CTHB provides one example of this accomplishment. As illustrated in this document, the success of the CTHB (and surely D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Steenkamp and Wingfield78 other CoEs) can be attributed to many interacting factors including a multidisciplinary approach, which is typically not possible in more focused research programmes. Of all these factors, however, the two most important ones are (1) the critical mass of scientists working collectively and passionately on a common research theme, and (2) the fact that the CoE funding has provided substantial leverage to access new collaborations, novel multidisciplinary research activities, facilities and funding. In our view, these key issues have driven the growth and success of the CTHB, which would not have been possible without the establish- ment of the Centre. Consistent with DST’s 10-year (2008–2018) innova- tion plan for South Africa (DST 2007), the CoE programme brings numerous benefits to the knowledge economy of the country. However, unlike countries in the developed world, the large majority of the basic research conducted in South Africa is funded or part-funded with public money. Therefore, should funding through the CoE programme be down-scaled or terminated, most of the CoEs would continue to attract research funding to sustain their work, but this would certainly not be near the same level. This is also true for the CTHB, which will undeniably continue to function, but the consequence of limited funding in South Africa would clearly result in a programme significantly different and less effective than the one that is currently in place. Assuming that a high level of performance is maintained by the CoEs, we believe that it is essential that the NRF and DST seek to support the CoE programme beyond the current funding cycle of 15 years. In fact, the notion that government expenditure on research and development represents a key driver in the knowledge- based economy of South Africa and Africa, in general, is widely recognised (e.g. Teng-Zeng 2009, Blankley and Booyens 2010, Pouris 2012). While strong research programmes will always find new opportunities, it would be naïve to believe that any of the CoEs, no less the CTHB, would be able to continue at near the same levels of achievement without the core funding on which they rely. These CoEs might be analogous to WHAT DO WE DO? WHAT DO WE PRODUCE OR DELIVER? WHAT DO WE WISH TO ACHIEVE? WHAT DO WE AIM TO CHANGE?IMPACTS OUTCOMES OUTPUTS ACTIVITIES INPUTS A South Africa with the human and physical resources needed to withstand the tree health challenges brought about by globalisation (trade, transport and tourism) and climate change Improved and sustainable health of native trees and woody ecosystems Sustainable forestry and woody ecosystem management Improved research skills and increased human resources Employment opportunities across many disciplines Dynamic research partnerships (globally including Africa) Peer-reviewed scientific papers and position papers BSc Honours, MSc and PhD graduates Efficient and effective tree health surveillance Advice to government and other institutions Students pursuing careers in science Research collaboration nationally and internationally Research on the health of native trees and woody ecosystems Disease and insect pest diagnostics/monitoring Undergraduate and postgraduate education Field extension and knowledge brokerage Mentorship of high-school learners regarding careers in science CTHB human capacity, resources and infrastructure at six South African higher- education or research institutions WHAT DO WE USE TO DO THE WORK? Figure 6: Framework linking the various components (inputs, activities, outputs, outcomes and impacts) of the CTHB’s research value chain. The framework is based on the model proposed for the Outcomes Approach, which is used by government for alignment to the MTSF (South African Government 2009, 2010) D ow nl oa de d by [ U ni ve rs it y of P re to ri a] a t 22 :5 2 06 J un e 20 14 Southern Forests 2013, 75(2): 71–80 79 newly developed aircraft that have been carefully designed, built, launched and that have reached ‘cruising altitude’. They are flying high and providing them with the required fuel enables them to continue to do so profitably for long periods of time. Moreover, they provide superb models for new vehicles with similar and even more impressive objectives that might be developed in the future. Much like the statement of the late-nineteenth century poet Ralph Waldo Emerson, life is a journey, not a destination, we see the activities of the CoEs as a long-term journey to promote excellence in research, Science education and community engagement. In the case of the CTHB, this is in the field of tree health where the journey has already established many important milestones. Given continued support, it will continue to do so increasingly effectively. Acknowledgements — We thank the National Research Foundation of South Africa, members of the Tree Protection Co-operative Programme, the THRIP initiative of the Department of Trade and Industry and the Department of Science and Technology for funding. We also thank the core team of research scientists of the CTHB for their valuable contributions. 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work_htgxb4jz5fhcdaxonaz44himjq	----	In Memorium Dante Germino We are sad to report the death of our former colleague Dante Germino, who was killed in a tragic accident in Amsterdam on May 25, 2002. Dante had a long and distinguished career as scholar and teacher. After receiving his Ph.D. from Harvard in 1956, working with Carl Friedrich, he began to teach political theory at Wellesley. Although promoted to associate professor, with tenure, Dante left Wellesley in 1965 to teach at the University of the Philippines for the Rockefeller Founda- tion. In 1968 he accepted a professor- ship at the University of Virginia, where he stayed for 29 years, until his retirement in 1997. After retiring, Dante moved to Amsterdam, where he had some of his most productive years, teaching at the Universities of Amster- dam and Leiden, and at the University of Bangkok. His many books include The Italian Fascist Party in Power: A Study in Totalitarian Rule (1959), Beyond Ideol- ogy: The Revival of Political Theory (1976), Machiavelli to Marx: Modern Western Political Thought (1979), Polit- ical Philosophy and the Open Society (1982), The Inaugural Addresses of American Presidents (1984), and Antonio Gramsci: Architect of a New Politics (1990). This is a remarkable list. Dante’s erudition spanned the en- tire history of Western political theory, from ancient times to the present day, and encompassed Italian politics and American political rhetoric. Throughout his career, Dante received many awards, including a Z Society’s Medallion for Distinguished Teaching at Virginia and a Guggenheim fellowship. In 1974, he chaired the political theory section for the American Political Science Associa- tion meeting. A list of dates and accomplishments conveys little of Dante’s essence. He had passionate convictions and was not shy about expressing them. This could make him a challenging colleague, but he was also a fiercely loyal friend. As a political theorist, Dante described him- self as “interested in the recovery of po- litical philosophy in its pre-modern range and depth.” He resisted main- stream opinions, turned his back on the scientific study of politics, and main- tained a lifelong interest in the political philosophy of Eric Voegelin, to the explication and extension of which he devoted many of his works. Dante re- cently completed editing and writing a new introduction for Volume 16 of Voegelin’s Collected Works, Plato and Aristotle (2000). He idolized the appar- ently disparate figures of Plato and Machiavelli, finding in the former sym- bolic expression of the ambiguities in- herent in man’s relationship to reality which he believed to lie at the heart of true political theory. Dante also cared deeply about social justice. At usually placid U.Va. he was a leader in univer- sity protests against the Vietnam war, and a lifelong combatant in the cause of civil rights, and later, gay rights. During the last few years, substantial portions of his teaching and research were addressed to the phenomenon of right- wing violence. Dante taught political theory on three continents. His courses in the Philippines were some of his finest hours. He introduced Philippine stu- dents to Friedrich’s constitutionalism and separation of powers. But more than that, by going back to Plato, Aristotle, Adams, and Jefferson, he helped them understand what sets the American political system apart. Many of the students he inspired went into journalism and government; an impres- sive group taught political science at the University of the Philippines and other universities in the Philippines and abroad. The course he cotaught with O. D. Corpuz, then Chairman of the Government Department at the Univer- sity of the Philippines, was at that time the largest class in the University’s history. Some 1,000 students enrolled in the course, which was held in the field house, otherwise used only for such events as graduation. One of Dante’s most enduring lega- cies at U.Va. is the program in Political and Social Thought, an interdisciplinary undergraduate major, of which he was founding director. He not only raised the money but recruited faculty from Philosophy, Religious Studies, History, Government and Foreign Affairs, and other departments to teach selected courses. Single-handedly he built a pro- gram that is thriving a quarter century later. But his concern for his students was seen most clearly in his highly personal, emotional style of teaching. In “The Meaning of Ethical Neutral- ity,” Max Weber classically expresses the position that the teacher has an obli- gation not to use the lecture platform as a pulpit. This view Dante rejected. In teaching political theory, he used his subject matter as a vehicle to argue for his central values of freedom, tolerance, and the open society. He believed it was part of a teacher’s role to challenge his students, to push them to see through society’s dominant values. Not to pres- ent provocative arguments was to allow the status quo to prevail by default. Pas- sionate advocacy made Dante a contro- versial teacher. While some students rejected his message and unusual style, others flocked to it. Throughout his ca- reer, he profoundly affected generations of students. George Klosko Kenneth W. Thompson University of Virginia Joseph Pois Joseph Pois, professor, lawyer, consult- ant and civil servant, died of pneumonia on July 12, 2001, at the age of 95. The youngest of eight children of Turkish immigrants Adolph and Augusta Pois, Joe was born on December 25, 1905, in New York City’s Hell’s Kitchen. Joe never lost his Bronx accent nor his sensitivity toward human suffering, at- tachment to social justice or quick wry New York wit. Raised as much by sib- lings as by his parents, Joe’s lifelong zeal for learning was encouraged by a school-teacher sister and financed by a successful entrepreneur brother. Joe’s academic career began with a bachelor’s degree and a Phi Beta Kappa key from the University of Wisconsin in 1926. In the course of the next three years he earned an M.A. and Ph.D. in political science from the University of Chicago where he studied under Leonard White and Robert Merriam. Joe’s princi- pal and undying devotion was to the law. He earned a J.D. in 1934 from the Chicago/Kent School of Law and main- tained his membership on the bar until his death…dutifully pursuing the requi- site annual continuing education. While in law school Joe began his career as a consultant, first with Chicago’s J. L. Jacobs & Co. and then the Public Administration Service, un- der the direction of Donald C. Stone. In 1938 Stone brought Joe into the Roosevelt Administration. His first assignment was heading up the admin- istrative studies section of the U.S. PSOnline www.apsanet.org 595 IN MEMORIAM Bureau of Old Age and Survivors Insurance, now the Social Security Administration. Joe led the effort to automate the bureau’s record-keeping system. From 1939 to 1942 he served with Stone in the U.S. Bureau of the Budget, where he headed up the sec- tion responsible for the federal reorgan- ization efforts. One of the individuals impressed with Joe’s work was the U.S. Coast Guard Commandant, Admi- ral Russell Wasche, who recruited him in 1942 to serve as his top assistant. Joe left the service on Wasche’s death in 1946 with rank of Captain. Returning to Chicago, Joe resumed his consulting briefly with J. L. Jacobs until recruited in 1947 by the president of Signode Corporation, a steel strapping manufacturer, where he served ultimately as vice president of finance and board director until 1961. At Signode Joe took a leave of absence when recruited by Governor Adlai Stevenson to serve as his Director of Finance from 1951 to 1953. While in Chicago he served in a number of civic roles, most notably as member and president of the Chicago School Board, Immigration Service League and Chicago Metropolitan Housing and Planning Council. Joe left Chicago, again at the behest of old friend Don Stone, to help the latter establish the Graduate School of Public and International Affairs at the University of Pittsburgh. Joe served as chair of the public administration de- partment from 1961 to 1971 and associ- ate dean from 1973 to 1975. He was named professor emeritus in 1976 and continued to teach into his eighties. In Pittsburgh, Joe continued to devote a large share of energies to public serv- ice as volunteer with a variety of local organizations, including board member- ships on the Pittsburgh School Board, Pittsburgh Center for the Arts, World Federalist Association and the Zionist Organization of America. He also served as consultant to the U.S. Departments of State and Defense, U.S. Senate, USAID, and USGAO. Joe’s academic interests were in pub- lic law, finance and accountability. His Watchdog on the Potomac is a definitive study of the U.S. General Accounting Office. He brought to the classroom his rich experience as well as a legendary intellectual rigor. His courses were con- sidered among the toughest yet most re- warding in the school, and his lectures were a particular treat—for their content as well as their humor and urbane delivery. He was fond of telling about a Ph.D. student of his who, facing a “do or die” deadline on his dissertation and the circumstance of Joe’s being ship- bound on a round-the-world voyage, saw to it that Joe was greeted at each port-of-call with serial chapters. The dissertation was completed in time and the grateful student joined a legion of others who continue to think of him as providing their most significant aca- demic experience in their graduate programs. Joe’s wife Rose passed away in 1981. He is survived by his two sons, Robert Pois, a professor of history at the University of Colorado, and Marc Pois of Pittsburgh, as well as many nieces, nephews and grandchildren. Joe also leaves his close friend and companion, Eleanor Schoenberg of Pittsburgh, who as executrix of his estate, arranged for his two-thousand- volume library to be sent to the new American University of Bulgaria. The gift was inspired by Joe’s Jewish her- itage and interest in Judaica and the pride he had in Bulgaria’s efforts dur- ing the holocaust of saving its Jewish citizens from Nazi death camps. Equally apposite, Joe’s collection of the American Political Science Review, dat- ing from 1927, was offered as a gift to any institution interested in having them. The two that responded were associated with Ukraine, his mother’s birthplace, and Turkey, his father’s. The collection now resides with Ukraine. Ed Kiely Frank L. Wilson On November 2, 2001, Frank L. (“Lee”) Wilson lost his long and valiant battle with heart disease. The hoped-for new lease on life from a heart trans- plant was not to be. His departure is not only a great loss to the Department of Political Science, but also to the School of Liberal Arts, the university, and, in a very real way, to the academic community. Lee was a dedicated teacher, an outstanding scholar, a first-rate ad- ministrator, and the kind of model citi- zen without which no good university can ultimately function. For me person- ally, his passing means not only the loss of a colleague and coauthor whom I greatly respected and admired, but, above all, the loss of a close friend. Lee completed his Ph.D. degree at UCLA in 1969. He was appointed lecturer at UCLA and visiting assistant professor at California State College, Long Beach, in 1969–70. Our paths first crossed at Iowa State University, where Lee accepted an appointment as assis- tant professor in 1970. A year later, both of us joined the faculty at Purdue University. In 1983 Lee was promoted to full professor and from 1988 to 2000 he served as department head. Other ac- ademic appointments included a visiting associate professorship and two visiting professorships at UCLA (summers 1981, 1984, 1986), Brigham Young University (winter–spring 1986), and Universite Robert Schuman, Strasbourg (1996). During the spring of 1993, he was a visiting scholar at the Center for European Studies, Harvard University. Lee Wilson’s contributions to scholar- ship were recognized both within and outside Purdue University. He was the recipient of a number of intramural grants, including five research and inter- national travel grants, a fellowship from the Center for Humanistic Studies, and a Purdue University Global Studies Grant. Extramural grants included a Fulbright- Hays Teaching Fellowship in France, an American Philosophical Society Fellow- ship, and a Spencer Foundation Grant. While serving as department head, Lee also received a three-year award for staff expansion from the Japan Foundation In- stitutional Support Program and a cur- riculum development grant from the Eu- ropean Studies Association. Although Lee’s primary scholarly in- terest was French politics, the range of his scholarship also included European and general comparative politics. He was equally at home in writing for under- graduates, graduate students, and faculty colleagues. Active in the profession, he served in a number of capacities in APSA, the Educational Testing Service, and the College Board Test Development and Curriculum Committee for Advanced Placement in Government and Politics. His record includes numerous teaching publications and many years of service as a faculty fellow, a schoolwide excellence in teaching award, and the Frederick L. Hovde Award as Outstand- ing Faculty Fellow. However, Lee Wilson was also a very productive scholar: the author, coauthor, or editor of a dozen books, 18 book chapters, and 25 articles in some of the best journals of our discipline. Even when he was de- partment head and already seriously ill, Lee never ceased to be a scholar. An ar- ticle on “Failure to Reform: The French Communist Party” was scheduled to be published in November 2001 in German Policy Studies, and a few days after his death a copy of the second edition of his book Concepts and Issues in Com- parative Politics arrived in the depart- mental mail. Clearly, Lee’s contribution to scholarship, teaching and service in the academic community was not only outstanding in terms of its quantity, but 596 PS September 2002 also because of its multifaceted nature and unusual balance. His commitment to increasing the diversity of the students, faculty, and administrators at Purdue University was second to none. It was under his leadership that our department won the President’s Affirmative Action Award in 1991. Last, but not least, Lee Wilson was an admirable human being—humane, tolerant, remarkably patient even at times of great stress, a person of integrity. Ever intellectually curious, he subjected himself to a rare degree of discipline and organization. Neverthe- less, he also had a keen appreciation of the finer things in life. He loved theater, music, the arts, and good food. If he was very demanding and had extremely high standards, he never subjected anyone to standards he himself was not prepared to meet or exceed. When I think of Lee, I think of someone who was highly dedicated to his profession, but at the same time unselfish and emi- nently fair in dealing with students and his colleagues. He was the kind of per- son and friend to whom I would have entrusted my family and earthly belong- ings without hesitation. In 1860 Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “In failing cir- cumstances no man can be relied on to keep his integrity.” Supported by a loving wife and family, and sustained by his deep personal faith, Lee Wilson proved Emerson wrong. His life and his determined struggle to overcome the odds he faced serve as a lasting inspira- tion to all who knew him. Rolf H.W. Theen Purdue University PSOnline www.apsanet.org 597 
work_hujdg7wzyvecvi2guqoordgb5q	----	untitled ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTION Association of Hospice Agency Profit Status With Patient Diagnosis, Location of Care, and Length of Stay Melissa W. Wachterman, MD, MPH Edward R. Marcantonio, MD, SM Roger B. Davis, ScD Ellen P. McCarthy, PhD, MPH D URING THE PAST 10 YEARS, the for-profit hospice sec- tor has increased substan- tially.1 From 2000 to 2007, the number of for-profit hospices more than doubled from 725 to 1660, while the number of nonprofit hospices re- mained essentially the same—1193 in 2000 and 1205 in 2007.2 Overall, for- profit hospices have significantly higher profit margins than nonprofit hos- pices, varying from 12% to 16% be- tween 2001 and 2004, compared with −2.9% and −4.4% for nonprofit hos- pices.2 This rapid increase in the for- profit hospice sector and the differen- tial profit margins have raised questions about potential financial incentives in hospice reimbursement. Medicare payment policy is a key de- terminant of hospice reimbursement. Medicare beneficiaries compose 84% of patients in hospice,3 and about 40% of Medicare decedents use hospice annu- ally.2 Medicare reimburses hospices a per diem rate ($142.91/d in 2010) for routine care, which can be provided at home or in a nursing home.3 This capi- tated rate is fixed regardless of the care needs of individual patients or the ser- vices that they receive and may create a financial incentive to select patients requiring less resource-intensive ser- vices. Moreover, longer hospice stays are thought to be more profitable than shorter stays,2,4 and emerging evi- dence suggests that hospice costs tend to be U-shaped with considerable fixed costs at the time of enrollment and again near death.5-8 Thus, hospices can re- duce their average daily costs by at- tracting patients with longer lengths of Author Affiliations: Division of General Medicine and Primary Care (Drs Wachterman, Davis, and McCarthy), Divisions of General Medicine and Primary Care and Gerontology (Dr Marcantonio), Department of Medi- cine, Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, Boston, Massachusetts. Corresponding Author: Melissa W. Wachterman, MD, MPH, Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, 330 Brookline Ave, Boston, MA 02115 (mwachter@bidmc .harvard.edu). Context Medicare’s per diem payment structure may create financial incentives to select patients who require less resource-intensive care and have longer hospice stays. For-profit and nonprofit hospices may respond differently to financial incentives. Objective To compare patient diagnosis and location of care between for-profit and nonprofit hospices and examine whether number of visits per day and length of stay vary by diagnosis and profit status. Design, Setting, and Patients Cross-sectional study using data from the 2007 National Home and Hospice Care Survey. Nationally representative sample of 4705 patients discharged from hospice. Main Outcome Measures Diagnosis and location of care (home, nursing home, hospital, residential hospice, or other) by hospice profit status. Hospice length of stay and number of visits per day by various hospice personnel. Results For-profit hospices (1087 discharges from 145 agencies), compared with non- profit hospices (3618 discharges from 524 agencies), had a lower proportion of patients with cancer (34.1%; 95% CI, 29.9%-38.6%, vs 48.4%; 95% CI, 45.0%-51.8%) and a higher proportion of patients with dementia (17.2%; 95% CI, 14.1%-20.8%, vs 8.4%; 95% CI, 6.6%-10.6%) and other noncancer diagnoses (48.7%; 95% CI, 43.2%- 54.1%, vs 43.2%; 95% CI, 40.0%-46.5%; adjusted P � .001). After adjustment for demographic, clinical, and agency characteristics, there was no significant difference in location of care by profit status. For-profit hospices compared with nonprofit hos- pices had a significantly longer length of stay (median, 20 days; interquartile range [IQR], 6-88, vs 16 days; IQR, 5-52 days; adjusted P = .01) and were more likely to have patients with stays longer than 365 days (6.9%; 95% CI, 5.0%-9.4%, vs 2.8%; 95% CI, 2.0%-4.0%) and less likely to have patients with stays of less than 7 days (28.1%; 95% CI, 23.9%-32.7%, vs 34.3%; 95% CI, 31.3%-37.3%; P = .005). Com- pared with cancer patients, those with dementia or other diagnoses had fewer visits per day from nurses (0.50 visits; IQR, 0.32-0.87, vs 0.37 visits; IQR, 0.20-0.78, and 0.41 visits; IQR, 0.26-0.79, respectively; adjusted P = .002) and social workers (0.15 visits; IQR, 0.07-0.31, vs 0.11 visits; IQR, 0.04-0.27, and 0.14 visits; IQR, 0.07-0.31, respectively; adjusted P � .001). Conclusion Compared with nonprofit hospice agencies, for-profit hospice agencies had a higher percentage of patients with diagnoses associated with lower-skilled needs and longer lengths of stay. JAMA. 2011;305(5):472-479 www.jama.com 472 JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 (Reprinted) ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 stay (LOS).7,9 Some data suggest that for-profit hospices are less likely to ad- mit patients with shorter expected LOS,10 while other data suggest no dif- ference in mean LOS between for- profit and nonprofit hospices.11 The Bal- anced Budget Act of 1997 relaxed the previous 210-day cap on Medicare hospice coverage, allowing for an un- limited number of 60-day periods, provided patients are recertified (ie, deemed to have 6 months or less to live if their disease runs its normal course).2 This policy change allowed for longer reimbursable stays in hospice and may have contributed to the rise of for- profit hospices. In this context, we compared pa- tient diagnosis and location of care be- tween for-profit and nonprofit hos- pices and examined whether LOS and the number of visits per day by hos- pice personnel vary by diagnoses and by profit status. METHODS We examined a nationally representa- tive sample of patients discharged from hospice, primarily due to death (84%), using the 2007 National Home and Hospice Care Survey (NHHCS).12 The 2007 NHHCS used a stratified 2-stage sampling design. A representative sample of US home health and hos- pice care agencies was selected after being stratified by agency type and met- ropolitan statistical area. From more than 15 000 agencies, 1545 agencies were randomly sampled from the strata with probability proportional to size. Overall, 1461 selected agencies were eli- gible (95%), and 1036 agreed to par- ticipate (unweighted, 71%; weighted, 59%).13 A computer algorithm randomly se- lected up to 10 current patients per home health agency, up to 10 hospice discharges per hospice agency, or a combination of up to 10 current home health patients and hospice dis- charges for a mixed agency. Hospice discharges during the 3-month period before the agency interview were eli- gible. Our study focused solely on the sample of 4733 patients discharged from hospice. We excluded 28 dis- charges with any missing data on our main factors of interest (LOS, diagno- sis, and location of care). Our final sample consisted of 4705 hospice dis- charges. Data were collected through in- person interviews with the hospice staff member who knew each sampled pa- tient best; questions were answered in consultation with the patient’s medi- cal record or other records. No pa- tients or family members were inter- viewed. This study was deemed exempt by the Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center institutional review board be- cause we used publicly available deiden- tified data. Hospice profit status was obtained from the agencies’ administrators. The agency was considered for-profit if it was owned by an individual, partner- ship, or corporation and nonprofit if owned by a nonprofit organization, re- ligious group, or government agency. Patient Characteristics We classified patients’ primary admis- sion diagnoses into the following 3 groups using codes from the Interna- tional Classification of Diseases, Ninth Revision, Clinical Modification: cancer (140-239), dementia (290.0, 290.42, 294.8, 294.9, 331.0, 331.11, 331.4, 331.82, and 331.9), and other (all re- maining codes, such as congestive heart failure). We categorized location of care as home, nursing home, hospital, resi- dential hospice, or other. Length of stay was measured from date of hospice en- rollment until discharge or death, whichever came first. We also as- sessed LOS in categories of less than 7 days, 7 to 30 days, 31 to 180 days, 181 to 364 days, and 365 days or longer. We measured number of visits per day by each of the following hospice person- nel: nurses, social workers, and home health aides. We computed each mea- sure by dividing the total number of vis- its by the patient’s LOS. W e u s e d t h e f o l l o w i n g d e m o - graphic characteristics as covariates: age at hospice entry (�50 y, 50-64 y, 65-74 y, 75-84 y, 85-89 y, �90 y), sex, race/ethnicity (non-Hispanic white, non-Hispanic black, Hispanic, other), marital status (married/partnered, not married), primary payment source (Medicare, Medicaid, private, other), and presence of a primary caregiver (yes/no). The NHHCS collected race/ ethnicity data using predetermined cat- egories through interviews with the hospice staff members who knew the participants. The available clinical characteristics other than diagnosis included the number of activities of daily living needing assistance (eating, bathing, dressing, toileting, transferring: cat- egorized as 0, 1-3, 4, or all 5) and mobility impairment (required no assistance, required assistance with walking, and did not walk). Data were only available for 2 agency characteris- tics other than profit status: whether the hospice agency was part of a chain (yes/no) and metropolitan statistical area, defined by the US Census as met- ropolitan (at least 1 urban area with a population �50 000), micropolitan (an area with a population of 10 000- 49 999), or “neither,” eg, rural (did not meet criteria for metropolitan or micropolitan). Statistical Analyses All analyses were performed using SAS-callable SUDAAN version 10 (RTI International, Research Triangle Park, North Carolina) to account for the complex sampling design. Data were weighted to reflect national estimates of hospice discharges. We report weighted percentages with corre- sponding 95% confidence intervals (CIs). Statistical tests were 2-sided. We used Pearson �2 tests and t tests to examine the association between profit status and patient and agency characteristics, hospice LOS, and number of visits per day. We used log transformation for our outcomes of LOS and number of visits per day to approximate normal distributions and fit unadjusted linear regression models to examine the association between profit status and each outcome. For patients with no visits of a particular HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. (Reprinted) JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 473 Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 type, we imputed a visit rate of 0.5 divided by the patient’s LOS to avoid taking the logarithm of zero. We then repeated these analyses stratifying by diagnosis to assess differences by profit status within each diagnosis group. We further assessed whether number of visits per day varied by cat- egories of LOS. We used logistic regression to deter- mine whether diagnosis and location of care were independent correlates of having been in a for-profit vs non- profit hospice after adjusting for demo- graphic, clinical, and agency covari- ates. We used linear regression to examine the association between profit status and log(LOS) adjusted for all co- variates, including diagnosis and loca- tion of care. We used linear regression models to examine differences in num- Table 1. Characteristics of Hospice-Discharged Patients and Hospice Agencies by Hospice Profit Statusa All Patients (N = 4705) Patients From For-Profit Hospices (n = 1087) b Patients From Nonprofit Hospices (n = 3618) b P ValueNo. Weighted % (95% CI) No. Weighted % (95% CI) No. Weighted % (95% CI) Age, y �50 175 3.5 (2.7-4.5) 39 4.1 (2.5-6.6) 136 3.2 (2.4-4.4) 50-64 638 13.6 (12.1-15.3) 147 12.1 (9.6-15.2) 491 14.3 (12.5-16.3) 65-74 785 14.8 (13.0-16.7) 168 12.8 (9.7-16.9) 617 15.6 (13.6-17.8) .20 75-84 1459 29.6 (27.3-32.0) 323 29.9 (25.6-34.6) 1136 29.4 (26.8-32.2) 85-89 828 19.5 (17.7-21.6) 185 18.5 (15.3-22.2) 643 20.0 (17.8-22.4) �90 820 19.0 (17.0-21.2) 225 22.6 (18.8-26.9) 595 17.5 (15.1-20.0) Female sex 2600 54.9 (52.1-57.6) 627 57.4 (52.7-62.0) 1973 53.8 (50.4-57.1) .22 Race/ethnicity c Non-Hispanic white 4080 86.4 (83.8-88.7) 845 79.6 (73.5-84.6) 3235 89.4 (86.9-91.5) Non-Hispanic black 310 7.7 (6.0-9.9) 135 10.6 (7.0-15.8) 175 6.4 (4.7-8.7) .02 Hispanic 147 4.2 (3.0-5.9) 55 7.5 (4.5-12.3) 92 2.7 (1.8-4.1) Other 79 1.7 (1.2-2.6) 25 2.2 (1.1-4.5) 54 1.5 (0.9-2.4) Marital status c Married/partnered 2045 45.3 (42.2-48.5) 419 40.1 (33.3-47.4) 1626 47.7 (44.4-51.0) .06 Not married 2497 54.7 (51.5-57.8) 638 59.9 (52.6-66.7) 1859 52.3 (49.1-55.6) Primary payment source c Medicare 3816 82.6 (80.6-84.4) 875 82.0 (78.6-84.9) 2941 82.8 (80.3-85.1) Medicaid 190 4.0 (3.1-5.2) 52 5.7 (1.2-3.7) 138 3.4 (2.5-4.5) .36 Private insurance 354 9.3 (7.9-11.0) 57 8.2 (6.0-11.2) 297 9.8 (8.0-11.9) Other 222 4.1 (3.1-5.4) 50 4.2 (2.5-7.0) 172 4.0 (2.9-5.5) Has a primary caregiver c Yes 4328 91.5 (89.3-93.2) 1027 93.8 (89.6-96.4) 3301 90.4 (87.8-92.5) .10 No 365 8.5 (6.8-10.7) 59 6.2 (3.6-10.4) 306 9.6 (7.5-12.3) No. of ADLs needing assistance c 0 441 9.4 (7.6-11.7) 83 6.7 (3.7-12.0) 358 10.6 (8.5-13.2) 1-3 614 13.1 (11.1-15.4) 137 12.6 (9.0-17.5) 477 13.3 (11.0-15.9) .11 4 1003 19.6 (17.1-22.4) 223 17.3 (13.1-22.6) 780 20.6 (17.6-23.9) 5 2097 57.9 (54.2-61.5) 543 63.3 (55.9-70.2) 1554 55.5 (51.3-59.6) Mobility No assistance needed 721 15.1 (12.8-17.6) 134 11.6 (8.1-16.3) 587 16.7 (13.9-19.8) Needs assistance 1970 50.0 (45.7-54.4) 517 51.4 (42.2-60.4) 1453 49.4 (44.6-54.2) .14 Not mobile 1431 34.9 (30.6-39.4) 332 37.0 (28.7-46.2) 1099 34.0 (29.1-39.2) Agency characteristics MSA Metropolitan 1722 87.3 (85.5-88.9) 479 91.0 (86.9-94.0) 1243 85.6 (83.1-87.8) Micropolitan 1749 9.1 (7.8-10.6) 352 6.6 (4.2-10.1) 1397 10.2 (8.4-12.3) .11 Neither 1234 3.6 (2.9-4.5) 256 2.4 (1.2-4.7) 978 4.2 (3.3-5.3) Chain status Yes 894 26.8 (20.9-33.7) 587 74.0 (61.1-83.7) 307 5.9 (3.5-9.8) �.001 No 3811 73.2 (66.4-79.1) 500 26.0 (16.3-38.9) 3311 94.2 (90.2-96.6) Abbreviations: ADLs, activities of daily living; CI, confidence interval; MSA, metropolitan statistical area. a No. indicates sample size, and percentages are weighted to reflect national estimates. Columns may not add to 100% because of rounding. b Discharges were from 145 for-profit agencies and 524 nonprofit agencies. c Data were unknown or missing for race/ethnicity (n = 89), marital status (n = 163), primary payment source (n = 123), caregiver status (n = 12), No. of ADLs needing assistance (n = 550), and mobility needs (n = 583). HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE 474 JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 (Reprinted) ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 ber of visits per day by profit status and diagnosis after adjustment. To deter- mine whether the association be- tween diagnosis and number of visits per day varied by profit status, we used the Wald �2 test to further assess the interaction between profit status and di- agnosis group. We performed similar multivariable analyses to examine dif- ferences in number of visits per day by profit status and LOS categories. All statistical testing was 2-sided. Our 3 main factors of interest (profit sta- tus, diagnosis, and location of care) were defined a priori, and our study was considered hypothesis generating rather than definitive testing. However, we did calculate a Bonferroni-corrected criti- cal value of P � .017, given our 3 fac- tors of interest. RESULTS Our sample included 4705 patients discharged from hospice in 2007, of which 1087 patients (30.7%) were discharged from 145 for-profit agen- cies and 3618 patients (69.3%) were discharged from 524 nonprofit agen- cies. Our sample was representative of an estimated 1.03 million patients discharged from hospice in 2007. TABLE 1 presents characteristics by agency profit status. Patients from for- profit and nonprofit hospices were similar except that those from for- profit hospices compared with non- profit hospices were more likely to be non-Hispanic black (10.6%; 95% CI, 7.0%-15.8%, vs 6.4%; 95% CI, 4.7%- 8.7%, respectively) or Hispanic (7.5%; 95% CI, 4.5%-12.3%, vs 2.7%; 95% CI, 1.8%-4.1%; P = .02). For-profit agencies compared with nonprofit agencies were also more likely to be part of a chain (74.0%; 95% CI, 61.1%-83.7%, vs 5.9%; 95% CI, 3.5%- 9.8%, respectively; P � .001). TABLE 2 demonstrates that diagno- sis and location of care both varied by profit status. Compared with non- profit hospices, for-profit hospices had a lower proportion of patients with can- cer (48.4%; 95% CI, 45.0%-51.8%, vs 34.1%; 95% CI, 29.9%-38.6%, respec- tively) and higher proportions of pa- tients with dementia (8.4%; 95% CI, 6.6%-10.6%, vs 17.2%; 95% CI, 14.1%- 20.8%) and other diagnoses (43.2%; 95% CI, 40.0%-46.5%, vs 48.7%; 95% CI, 43.2%-54.1%). These differences re- mained significant after adjustment (P � .001). Compared with nonprofit hospices, for-profit hospices also had a higher proportion of patients resid- ing in nursing homes (23.1%; 95% CI, 20.4%-26.1%, vs 34.2%; 95% CI, 27.9%- 41.0%, respectively) and a lower pro- portion residing at home (57.1%; 95% CI, 53.5%-60.7%, vs 51.5%; 95% CI, 44.6%-58.3%). However, there was no independent association of location of care with profit status after adjust- ment for all covariates, most notably diagnosis. Reasons for discharge among for- profit hospices and nonprofit hos- pices were, respectively, death (77.7% vs 87.3%), condition stabilized or im- proved (6.7% vs 4.3%), obtained more aggressive therapy (7.7% vs 3.2%), moved to a different geographic re- gion (2.3% vs 1.6%), and other rea- sons (5.2% vs 3.5%). Also, for-profit hospices had a higher proportion of dis- charges based on readmissions than nonprofit hospices (9.3% vs 5.5%, re- spectively). TABLE 3 presents the median LOS in hospice with corresponding 25th and 75th percentiles by profit status of all patients and stratified by diagnosis. Me- dian LOS was 4 days longer in for- profit hospices as compared with non- profit hospices (20 days; interquartile range, [IQR], 6-88, vs 16 days; IQR, 5-52; P = .002). The unadjusted LOS was 41.0% longer (95% CI, 13.5%-75.1%) in for-profit hospices vs nonprofit hos- pices. After full adjustment, LOS re- mained significantly longer in for- p r o f i t h o s p i c e s c o m p a r e d w i t h nonprofit hospices (26.2%; 95% CI, 4.9%-51.9%; P = .01). A model adjust- ing for only diagnosis and location of care was nearly identical, suggesting Table 2. Diagnosis and Location of Care of Patients by Hospice Profit Statusa All Patients (N = 4705) Patients From For-Profit Hospices (n = 1087) Patients From Nonprofit Hospices (n = 3618) Adjusted OR of For-Profit Status (95% CI) bNo. Weighted % (95% CI) No. Weighted % (95% CI) No. Weighted % (95% CI) Diagnosis c Cancer 2092 44.0 (41.2-46.9) 364 34.1 (29.9-38.6) 1728 48.4 (45.0-51.8) 1 [Reference] Dementia 462 11.1 (9.4-13.1) 150 17.2 (14.1-20.8) 312 8.4 (6.6-10.6) 2.32 (1.44-3.72) Other 2151 44.9 (42.1-47.7) 573 48.7 (43.2-54.1) 1578 43.2 (40.0-46.5) 1.62 (1.17-2.24) Location of care d Home 2834 55.4 (52.1-58.7) 655 51.5 (44.6-58.3) 2179 57.1 (53.5-60.7) 1 [Reference] Hospital 393 10.3 (7.8-13.4) 69 8.4 (5.3-12.9) 324 11.1 (8.0-15.3) 0.72 (0.30-1.75) Nursing home 1201 26.5 (23.7-29.6) 319 34.2 (27.9-41.0) 882 23.1 (20.4-26.1) 1.32 (0.88-1.96) Hospice residence 240 6.7 (5.2-8.6) 40 5.6 (3.2-9.5) 200 7.2 (5.5-9.5) 0.73 (0.34-1.58) Other 37 1.1 (0.5-2.3) 4 0.4 (0.1-1.4) 33 1.4 (0.7-3.1) 0.27 (0.05-1.58) Abbreviations: CI, confidence interval; OR, odds ratio. a No. indicates sample size and percentages are weighted to reflect national estimates. b Adjusted ORs and 95% CIs were derived from a single model that adjusted for age, sex, race/ethnicity, primary payment source, having a primary caregiver, No. of ADLs needing assistance, mobility needs, and metropolitan statistical area. c P � .001 for unadjusted comparison by profit status. P � .001 for adjusted comparison by profit status. d P = .01 for unadjusted comparison by profit status. HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. (Reprinted) JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 475 Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 that these 2 factors account for most of the variation in LOS. Compared with nonprofit hospices, median LOS in for-profit hospices was similar for patients with cancer (16 days; IQR, 6-39, vs 15 days; IQR, 6-44, respectively) and longer for patients with dementia (26 days; IQR, 6-135, vs 43 days; IQR, 10-161) and other non- cancer diagnoses (14 days; IQR, 4-70, vs 23 days; IQR, 6-100). In adjusted analyses, patients with dementia had longer median LOS than patients with cancer and other diagnoses (35 days; IQR, 7-161, vs 16 days; IQR, 6-40, and 17 days; IQR, 4-85, respectively; P � .001). Compared with patients in nonprofit hospices, patients in for- profit hospices were more likely to have stays longer than 365 days (2.8%; 95% CI, 2.0%-4.0%, vs 6.9%; 95% CI, 5.0%- 9.4%) and were less likely to have stays less than 7 days (34.3%; 95% CI, 31.3%- 37.3%, vs 28.1%; 95% CI, 23.9%- 32.7%; P = .005). TABLE 4 presents the median num- ber of visits per day by nurses, social workers, and home health aides over- all and stratified by diagnosis. Overall, for-profit and nonprofit hospices pro- vided similar numbers of nursing vis- its per day (0.45 visits; IQR, 0.27- 0.82, vs 0.45 visits; IQR, 0.28-0.83, respectively). However, for-profit hos- pice agencies compared with non- profit agencies provided fewer social work visits per day (0.12 visits; IQR, 0.06-0.25, vs 0.15 visits; IQR, 0.07- 0.34; unadjusted P = .006; adjusted P = .03) and more home health aide vis- its per day (0.33 visits; IQR, 0.15- 0.50, vs 0.25 visits; IQR, 0.07-0.45; un- adjusted P = .004; adjusted P = .02). Compared with cancer patients, those with dementia or other diagnoses had fewer visits per day from nurses (0.50 Table 3. Hospice Length of Stay by Profit Status All Patients (N = 4705) Patients From For-Profit Hospices (n = 1087) Patients From Nonprofit Hospices (n = 3618) Unadjusted P Value Patients by Category LOS categories, No. of patients (%) [95% CI] a �7 d 1375 (32.4) [29.9-34.9] 245 (28.1) [23.9-32.7] 1130 (34.3) [31.3-37.3] 7-30 d 1442 (30.5) [28.4-32.7] 311 (27.9) [24.4-31.8] 1131 (31.6) [29.2-34.2] 31-180 d 1340 (26.7) [24.3-29.2] 342 (30.4) [26.3-34.8] 998 (25.0) [22.2-28.1] .005 b 181-364 d 323 (6.4) [5.1-8.0] 99 (6.7) [4.3-10.3] 224 (6.2) [4.8-8.1] �365 d 225 (4.1) [3.2-5.2] 90 (6.9) [5.0-9.4] 135 (2.8) [2.0-4.0] LOS per Patient LOS, median (IQR), d Overall 17 (5-62) 20 (6-88) 16 (5-52) .002 c Stratified by diagnosis d Cancer 16 (6-40) 15 (6-44) 16 (6-39) Dementia 35 (7-161) 43 (10-161) 26 (6-135) Other 17 (4-85) 23 (6-100) 14 (4-70) Abbreviations: CI, confidence interval; IQR, interquartile range; LOS, length of stay. a No. indicates sample size and percentages are weighted to reflect national estimates. b Comparing LOS categories between profit and nonprofit hospices using a �2 test. c Outcome was log transformed; unadjusted model based on 1-unit increase in log(LOS). d P values are based on a single model that also adjusts for age, location of care, sex, race/ethnicity, type of insurance, primary caregiver, No. of ADLs needing assistance, mobility needs, and metropolitan statistical area. In analyses of LOS, P = .01 comparing profit status and P � .001 comparing diagnoses. Table 4. Visits per Day by Hospice Personnel by Profit Status, Overall and Stratified by Diagnosis Median (IQR) Unadjusted P Value All Patients (N = 4705) Patients From For-Profit Hospices (n = 1087) Patients From Nonprofit Hospices (n = 3618) Overall a Nursing visits 0.45 (0.28-0.83) 0.45 (0.27-0.82) 0.45 (0.28-0.83) .75 Social worker visits 0.14 (0.07-0.31) 0.12 (0.06-0.25) 0.15 (0.07-0.34) .006 Home health aide visits 0.26 (0.09-0.49) 0.33 (0.15-0.50) 0.25 (0.07-0.45) .004 Stratified by Diagnosis b Nursing visits c Cancer 0.50 (0.32-0.87) 0.58 (0.34-0.94) 0.50 (0.31-0.83) Dementia 0.37 (0.20-0.78) 0.38 (0.19-0.65) 0.36 (0.23-0.89) Other 0.41 (0.26-0.79) 0.41 (0.26-0.79) 0.41 (0.25-0.78) Social work visits d Cancer 0.15 (0.07-0.31) 0.15 (0.07-0.31) 0.15 (0.09-0.30) Dementia 0.11 (0.04-0.27) 0.07 (0.04-0.21) 0.12 (0.05-0.37) Other 0.14 (0.07-0.31) 0.11 (0.06-0.24) 0.15 (0.07-0.37) Home health aide visits e Cancer 0.22 (0.05-0.44) 0.26 (0.05-0.55) 0.19 (0.05-0.42) Dementia 0.35 (0.16-0.50) 0.39 (0.24-0.57) 0.30 (0.08-0.44) Other 0.28 (0.12-0.50) 0.37 (0.21-0.50) 0.26 (0.12-0.49) Abbreviation: IQR, interquartile range. a Outcome was log transformed; unadjusted model based on 1-unit increase in log(visits/d). b Outcome was log transformed; model based on 1-unit increase in log(visits/d). P values are based on a single model that also adjusted for age, sex, race/ethnicity, location of care, primary payment source, having a primary caregiver, No. of ADLs needing assistance, mobility needs, and metropolitan statistical area. c For analyses of nursing visits, P = .78 comparing profit status and P = .002 comparing diagnoses. d For analyses of social work visits, P = .03 comparing profit status and P � .001 comparing diagnoses. e For analyses of home health aide visits, P = .02 comparing profit status and P = .80 comparing diagnoses. HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE 476 JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 (Reprinted) ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 visits; IQR, 0.32-0.87, vs 0.37 visits; IQR, 0.20-0.78, and 0.41 visits; IQR, 0.26-0.79, respectively; adjusted P = .002) and social workers (0.15 vis- its; IQR, 0.07-0.31, vs 0.11 visits; IQR, 0.04-0.27, and 0.14 visits; IQR, 0.07- 0.31, respectively; adjusted P � .001). No significant interaction was ob- served between diagnosis and hospice profit status for any of the types of vis- its examined. TABLE 5 presents the me- dian number of visits per day by each personnel type, stratified by LOS cat- egories. Although patients with stays less than 7 days had more visits per day by nurses and social workers than pa- tients with longer stays, this did not dif- fer by profit status. COMMENT The recent increase in the for-profit hos- pice sector raises critical questions about potential financial incentives in hospice reimbursement. Using nation- ally representative data, we found no- table differences in the types of pa- tients enrolled in for-profit hospices compared with nonprofit hospices. For- profit hospices had a disproportionate number of patients with noncancer di- agnoses, dementia in particular. For- profit hospices also had a greater pro- portion of patients with prolonged LOS (�365 days). We also found that patients with noncancer diagnoses and those with prolonged LOS received fewer visits per day from skilled personnel (ie, nurses and social workers). Despite these dif- ferences in case mix, we found that pa- tients received similar rates of nursing visits regardless of hospice profit sta- tus. On the other hand, patients in for- profit hospices received fewer social work visits and more home health aide visits per day than those in nonprofit hospices as would be expected given the observed case-mix differences. Our findings have potentially important im- plications both for clinicians taking care of patients at the end of life and for policy makers in the area of Medicare hospice payment. The current Medicare Hospice Ben- efit reimburses hospices at a fixed per diem rate that does not consider the pa- tient’s diagnosis, location of care, or hospice LOS. Under this system, profit can be maximized by caring for pa- tients with certain diagnoses that re- quire fewer skilled services, patients re- siding in nursing homes, or patients with longer hospice stays.2,4,6,10,14 Al- though other studies have found that patients with noncancer diagnoses were significantly more likely than cancer pa- tients to be in for-profit hospices,10,11 we further examined the subset of pa- tients with dementia and found that they were even more likely to be en- rolled in for-profit hospices. Our find- ings indicate that approximately two- thirds of patients in for-profit hospices have dementia and other noncancer di- agnoses, whereas only about half of pa- tients in nonprofit hospices have these diagnoses. We also found that these diagnoses were associated with longer stays in hospice, which are known to be more profitable, and that overall patients with these diagnoses had fewer visits per day by skilled personnel (nurses and so- cial workers), which could be finan- cially advantageous for hospices un- der a capitated reimbursement system. For-profit hospices were also less likely than nonprofit hospices to have pa- tients enrolled for fewer than 7 days, and these patients had more visits from skilled personnel, which is costly for hospices. Our findings build on previ- ous research that has shown that LOS in hospice and services delivered cor- relate with patients’ terminal diag- noses.7,15,16 Previous studies examining the as- sociation of profit status or diagnosis with LOS or care intensity have used proprietary data5,7 or data limited to a single state.11,17 Lorenz et al11 used 1997 California data to show that 46% of pa- tients in for-profit hospices had non- cancer diagnoses, compared with 28% in nonprofits. We find a similar differ- ence, although of smaller magnitude— which may be partially due to the fact that our 2007 data show a substantial increase in noncancer diagnoses in both Table 5. Median Visits per Day by Hospice Personnel by Profit Status, Stratified by Length of Stay Median (IQR) a Patients From For-Profit Hospices (n = 1087) Patients From Nonprofit Hospices (n = 3618) Nursing visits b LOS �7 d 1.09 (0.74-1.41) 1.07 (0.71-1.43) LOS 7-30 d 0.58 (0.36-0.83) 0.49 (0.36-0.73) LOS 31-180 d 0.32 (0.22-0.43) 0.29 (0.21-0.40) LOS 181-364 d 0.19 (0.15-0.33) 0.20 (0.15-0.28) LOS �365 d 0.19 (0.15-0.27) 0.19 (0.14-0.28) Social worker visits c LOS �7 d 0.37 (0.26-0.63) 0.43 (0.27-0.73) LOS 7-30 d 0.16 (0.12-0.25) 0.16 (0.16-0.27) LOS 31-180 d 0.07 (0.04-0.10) 0.07 (0.05-0.11) LOS 181-364 d 0.04 (0.03-0.07) 0.05 (0.03-0.08) LOS �365 d 0.04 (0.03-0.05) 0.04 (0.03-0.07) Home health aide visits d LOS �7 d 0.37 (0.17-0.66) 0.25 (0.14-0.56) LOS 7-30 d 0.36 (0.16-0.55) 0.21 (0.04-0.43) LOS 31-180 d 0.33 (0.05-0.45) 0.22 (0.02-0.37) LOS 181-364 d 0.29 (0.11-0.43) 0.11 (0.00-0.32) LOS �365 d 0.29 (0.07-0.36) 0.30 (0.12-0.40) Abbreviations: IQR, interquartile range; LOS, length of stay. a Outcome was log transformed; model based on 1-unit increase in log(visits/d). P values are based on a single model that also adjusted for age, sex, race/ethnicity, diagnosis, location of care, primary payment source, having a primary caregiver, No. of ADLs needing assistance, mobility needs, and metropolitan statistical area. b For analyses of nursing visits, P = .56 comparing profit status and P � .001 comparing LOS. c For analyses of social work visits, P = .19 comparing profit status and P � .001 comparing LOS. d For analyses of home health aide visits, P = .006 comparing profit status and P � .001 comparing LOS. HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. (Reprinted) JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 477 Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 for-profit and nonprofit hospices, com- pared with their 1997 study.11 Our study also examined dementia specifi- cally and demonstrated an even stron- ger association between profit status and dementia. Another study,18 which used an earlier version of the NHHCS, could only document whether pa- tients had ever received services from a given type of provider because it lacked information on the frequency of visits. Our study, using the most re- cent NHHCS, expands on prior work by quantifying the number of visits per day delivered by core members of the hospice team and thus provides an im- proved, albeit imperfect, measure of care intensity. Our study also builds on a study of nursing home patients in a for-profit hospice that found that can- cer patients received more visits than noncancer patients.5 For-profit hospices had signifi- c a n t l y m o r e p a t i e n t s w i t h s t a y s exceeding 365 days and fewer patients with stays less than 7 days. Although hospice is intended for patients with a prognosis of less than 6 months, research demonstrates19-22 that it is difficult for clinicians to prognosti- cate, especially for patients with non- cancer diagnoses. Therefore, stays that exceed 6 months may have been appropriate at the time of enrollment. While it is unknown whether hospice patients with stays exceeding 1 year were enrolled inappropriately early in the course of their illnesses, these admissions can be particularly lucra- tive for hospices in a per diem reim- bursement system because, as we found, they receive fewer visits per day from skilled hospice personnel. Our study has several important limi- tations. First, the NHHCS includes only patients who were discharged from hos- pice and therefore underestimates LOS because patients with longer LOS have a lower likelihood of having been dis- charged and are therefore underrepre- sented in the sample. Nonetheless, we found that for-profit hospices were more likely than nonprofit hospices to have prolonged LOS (ie, �1 year). This undersampling of long LOS means that our study on the whole probably un- derestimates the differences in me- dian LOS by profit status. Second, we lacked data on impor- tant agency characteristics beyond metropolitan statistical area and chain status, such as the hospices’ geo- graphic location, which may explain the observed differences in racial composition. We also do not know whether hospices were part of a larger system of care, which could facilitate coordination of and transitions in care and thus increase hospice LOS. Third, we lacked data on costs and revenue, and therefore, we do not demonstrate that differences in the diagnostic com- position of hospices resulted in lower costs or greater revenue. Fourth, diag- nosis is an imperfect measure of dis- ease severity. Finally, and perhaps most impor- tantly, we are unable to assess the rela- tionship between profit status and quality of care. While our study improves on previous research by assessing the number of visits per day by various hospice personnel, we lacked important information on the length of each visit and care provided. For example, we could not distinguish between a home health aide visit that consisted of a 5-minute “check-in” and a half-day visit providing assis- tance with activities of daily living. We are also unable to determine whether higher rates of home health aide visits in for-profit hospices reflect additional care or substitution of other types of unmeasured (and potentially more expensive) clinical services. We also could not distinguish between visits delivered by registered nurses and licensed vocational nurses; past research11,17 suggests that registered nurses, who are more skilled and more expensive, deliver a lower pro- portion of nursing visits in for-profit hospices vs nonprofit hospices. Clinicians caring for patients con- sidering hospice can be reassured that for-profit hospices appear to provide as many nursing visits and more home health aide visits (although fewer social work visits) than nonprofit hos- pices. However, there are important policy implications if hospice agencies differentially enroll more patients with dementia and other noncancer diag- noses, who require fewer visits from skilled personnel such as nurses and social workers. Patient selection of this nature leaves nonprofit hospice agen- cies disproportionately caring for the most costly patients—those with can- cer and those tending to begin hospice very late in their course of illness; as a result, those hospices serving the neediest patients may face difficult financial obstacles to providing appro- priate care in this fixed per-diem pay- ment system. Our findings are timely, comple- ment the findings of the Medicare Pay- ment Advisory Committee (MedPAC) reports,2,16 and can help inform the c u r r e n t d e b a t e a r o u n d p a y m e n t reform in the Medicare Hospice Ben- efit. MedPAC has recommended that, as of 2013, reimbursement rates for hospice reflect a U-shaped pattern that considers the intensity of care required at the beginning and end of hospice, with higher per diem rates during the first 30 days of enrollment and a stan- dard payment at the time of death. Given that approximately 1 million Medicare beneficiaries use hospice each year and that the for-profit hos- pice industry continues to expand rap- idly, future research is needed to understand more fully the association of profit status with quality of care and patient and caregiver experiences at the end of life. Author Contributions: Dr Wachterman had full ac- cess to all of the data in the study and takes respon- sibility for the integrity of the data and the accuracy of the data analysis. Study concept and design: Wachterman, McCarthy. Acquisition of data: Wachterman, McCarthy. Analysis and interpretation of data: Wachterman, Marcantonio, Davis, McCarthy. Drafting of the manuscript: Wachterman, McCarthy. Critical revision of the manuscript for important in- tellectual content: Wachterman, Marcantonio, Davis, McCarthy. Statistical analysis: Wachterman, Davis, McCarthy. Obtained funding: Wachterman. Administrative, technical, or material support: Wachterman, Marcantonio, Davis, McCarthy. Study supervision: Marcantonio, McCarthy. Conflict of Interest Disclosures: All authors have com- pleted and submitted the ICMJE Form for Disclosure of Potential Conflicts of Interest and none were re- ported. HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE 478 JAMA, February 2, 2011—Vol 305, No. 5 (Reprinted) ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. Downloaded From: https://jamanetwork.com/ by a Carnegie Mellon University User on 04/05/2021 Funding/Support: Dr Wachterman received support from grant 6T32HP12706-02-01 from the Health Re- sources and Services Administration of the Depart- ment of Health and Human Services to support the Harvard Medical School Fellowship Program in Gen- eral Medicine and Primary Care. Role of the Sponsor: The funding organization had no role in the design and conduct of the study; in the collection, analysis, and interpretation of the data; or in the preparation, review, or approval of the manuscript. Previous Presentation: An earlier version of this work was presented at the national meeting of the Society of General Internal Medicine; Minneapolis, Minne- sota; April 30, 2010; and at the national meeting of Academy Health; Boston, Massachusetts; June 28, 2010. Disclaimer: The study contents are solely the respon- sibility of the authors and do not necessarily repre- sent the official views of the Department of Health and Human Services. Additional Contributions: We thank Benjamin Som- mers, MD, PhD, Harvard School of Public Health, for his editing assistance and helpful comments on the manuscript. He did not receive compensation for the contribution. REFERENCES 1. NHPCO facts and figures: hospice care in America [2010 edition]. National Hospice and Palliative Care Organization. http://www.nhpco.org/files/public /Statistics_Research/Hospice_Facts_Figures_Oct-2010 .pdf. Accessed December 17, 2010. 2. Hackbarth GM. Reforming the delivery system: MedPAC report to Congress [June 2008]. http://www .medpac.gov/documents/Jun08_EntireReport.pdf. Accessed January 10, 2011. 3. Hospice facts and statistics [September 2009]. Na- tional Association for Home Care & Hospice. http: //www.nahc.org/facts/HospiceStats09.pdf. Accessed October 10, 2010. 4. Huskamp HA, Buntin MB, Wang V, Newhouse JP. Providing care at the end of life: do Medicare rules impede good care? Health Aff (Millwood). 2001; 20(3):204-211. 5. Gruneir A, Miller SC, Lapane KL, Kinzbrunner B. Hospice care in the nursing home: changes in visit vol- ume from enrollment to discharge among longer- stay residents. J Pain Symptom Manage. 2006; 32(5):478-487. 6. Carney K, Burns N, Brobst B. Hospice costs and Medicare reimbursement: an application of break- even analysis. Nurs Econ. 1989;7(1):41-48. 7. Nicosia N, Reardon E, Lorenz K, Lynn J, Buntin MB. The Medicare hospice payment system: a consider- ation of potential refinements. Health Care Financ Rev. 2009;30(4):47-59. 8. Fitch K, Pyenson B. First and Last Days of Hospice Cost More: an Actuarial Evaluation of Hospice Ben- efits Provided to Medicare Beneficiaries. New York, NY: Milliman USA; 2003. 9. Cheung L, Fitch K, Pyenson B. The Costs of Hos- pice Care: an Actuarial Evaluation of the Medicare Hospice Benefit. 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Ann Intern Med. 2004;140(4):269-277. 16. Hackbarth GM. Increasing the value of Medicare. h t t p : / / w w w . m e d p a c . g o v / d o c u m e n t s / j u n 0 6 _entirereport.pdf. Accessed October 10, 2010. 17. O’Neill SM, Ettner SL, Lorenz KA. Paying the price at the end of life: a consideration of factors that affect the profitability of hospice. J Palliat Med. 2008; 11(7):1002-1008. 18. Carlson MD, Gallo WT, Bradley EH. Ownership status and patterns of care in hospice: results from the National Home and Hospice Care Survey. Med Care. 2004;42(5):432-438. 19. Lynn J, Harrell F Jr, Cohn F, Wagner D, Connors AF Jr. Prognoses of seriously ill hospitalized patients on the days before death: implications for patient care and public policy. New Horiz. 1997;5(1):56-61. 20. Lynn J, Harrell FE, Cohn F, Hamel M, Dawson N, Wu AW. Defining the “terminally ill”: insights from SUPPORT. Duquesne Law Rev. 1996;35(1):311- 336. 21. Christakis NA. Predicting patient survival before and after hospice enrollment. Hosp J. 1998;13 (1-2):71-87. 22. Fox E, Landrum-McNiff K, Zhong Z, Dawson NV, Wu AW, Lynn J; SUPPORT Investigators. Evaluation of prognostic criteria for determining hospice eligibil- ity in patients with advanced lung, heart, or liver dis- ease: Study to Understand Prognoses and Prefer- ences for Outcomes and Risks of Treatments. JAMA. 1999;282(17):1638-1645. In our flowing affairs a decision must be made—the best, if you can, but any is better than none. There are twenty ways of going to a point, and one is the shortest; but set out at once on one. A man who has that presence of mind which can bring to him on the instant all he knows, is worth for action a dozen men who know as much but can only bring it to light slowly. —Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) HOSPICE AGENCY PROFIT STATUS AND PATIENT CARE ©2011 American Medical Association. All rights reserved. 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work_hurdmnm6djf4vlckisikwsfkxq	----	Leadership: An Overview THE RED SECTION The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY VOLUME 110 | MARCH 2015 www.amjgastro.com nature publishing group362 We are regularly exposed to leadership; yet it remains poorly understood by most of us. We likely have a mental image of successful leaders, largely based upon those high profile indi- viduals whose photographs regularly appear in the media. We assume they are charismatic, extroverted, eloquent, bril- liant, and were born to lead. Surprisingly, this popularly held image is largely incorrect. Many successful leaders are humble, many are introverts, not all are eloquent speakers, and most will acknowledge that they are rarely the smartest person in a room ( 1 – 3 ). Our lack of understanding is particularly striking as we all have leaders in our lives. Although we do not always recognize the importance and relevance of these leaders, they do in fact have a major impact that affects each of us on a daily basis. Th is review will argue that leaders are incredibly infl uential, and that understanding leadership is important in our personal lives as well as in our professional careers. Understanding lead- ership has the potential to allow us to function in our organiza- tions more eff ectively. We can select leaders more thoughtfully, work with them more productively, and utilize their skills to improve our lives. We, ourselves, can better understand our own leadership roles and can improve our performance in these roles. How, then, can we better understand what leadership is? Per- haps the easiest method is to examine how thought leaders in the fi eld have off ered their own succinct defi nitions, many of which provide great insight into the world of leadership. Alternatively, we can examine how leadership has been classifi ed into “ styles ” by theorists. One way is to look at how the subject is studied in the academic literature. Finally, we can examine what leaders actually do, and how their time is spent. Defi nitions . Philosophers, psychologists, writers, and others have off ered defi nitions of leadership literally for centuries. More recently, this has become the province of management and leadership authorities. Th ese defi nitions, oft en quoted, are thought provoking, clever, and quite useful in capturing aspects of leadership in a succinct and memorable manner. However, as we examine a few such quotes, my opinion is that they are insuffi cient in explaining the diversity and complexity of leader- ship roles. For example, a leader has been defi ned by Peter Drucker as “ someone who has followers ” ( 4 ). Although this is obviously true, having followers is not suffi cient for someone to be an eff ective leader. History is replete with examples of so-called leaders of questionable reputation and controversial beliefs who for a period in time had followers. Th ere are also those who have followers but who have no interest or inclination to lead them. In addition, there are those in positions of leadership but who function as bosses rather than as leaders. Th ese people have subordinates, not willing followers, and typically are not eff ective leaders. Warren Bennis suggested that a leader “ translates vision into reality ” ( 5 ). However, an individual may design an elegant gar- den, and then construct, plant, and nurture the garden. Th is is an impressive accomplishment, but it is not leadership. Leadership: An Overview Ronald J. Vender , MD 1 Despite the infl uence of leadership in our lives, it remains poorly understood by most of us. This review defi nes leadership as “ a combination of position, responsibilities, attitude, skills, and behaviors that allows someone to bring out the best in others, and the best in their organization, in a sustainable manner. ” There are many traits and skills demonstrated by leaders. These include talent, drive, willpower, practical wisdom, loyalty, ethical behavior, emotional intelligence, integrity, self-awareness, and resilience. However, to best understand leadership we focus on what leaders are actually required to do, rather than on the skills and traits used to accomplish these tasks. We review nine functions that are at the core of leadership: serve as the public face of the organization; articulate the vision and mission; create culture; strategic planning; decide what to focus on; select, and develop, the right people; establish a decision-making process; manage your boss; and be responsible 24 / 7. All leaders operate in a specifi c context, during a unique point in the history of their organization, with a unique set of circumstances. What is required of the leader in one set of circumstances will change as those circumstances change. If the leader understands her core responsibilities, and if she develops the people, culture, and processes necessary to deal with a changing environment, she will have the self-awareness and support necessary to continue to lead successfully. Am J Gastroenterol 2015; 110:362–367; doi: 10.1038/ajg.2014.199; published online 22 July 2014 1 Yale School of Medicine , New Haven , Connecticut , USA . Correspondence: Ronald J. Vender, MD , Yale School of Medicine , 333 Cedar Street , SHM I-207, P.O. Box 208067, New Haven , Connecticut 06520-8067 , USA . E-mail: Ronald.Vender@Yale.edu THE RED SECTION © 2015 by the American College of Gastroenterology The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY 363 Another defi nition is that “ leadership is infl uence ” ( 5,6 ). Most leaders are in fact enormously infl uential. However, infl uence alone is necessary but not suffi cient to defi ne a leader. A burglar with a knife has infl uence. An impaired driver driving down the wrong lane of a highway has infl uence. As some of us have expe- rienced, a disruptive medical partner may be extremely infl uential within a practice, yet is the very antithesis of a leader. An oft en cited and admired quote from former President Eisenhower states that “ leadership is the art of getting someone to do something you want done because he wants to do it ” ( 7 ). As a military leader and president, few had as much success in leadership as Eisenhower. However, although I accept that his quote is correct about the exercise of power, this defi nition could just as easily be describing manipulation or deceit rather than leadership. My own defi nition of leadership is: “ a combination of position, responsibilities, attitude, skills, and behaviors that allows someone to bring out the best in others, and the best in their organization, in a sustainable manner. ” Leadership styles . Kurt Lewin described three predominant leadership styles: authoritative, democratic, and delegative ( 8 ). Th is formulation has been used in the Train-the-Trainers cur- riculum of the World Gastroenterology Organization. Lead- ers are encouraged to understand each of these styles, and then to apply the appropriate style in the correct circumstance. For those so inclined, this approach certainly has merit. However, other authors have off ered their own equally compelling descrip- tions of styles. One formulation categorizes leaders as coercive, authoritative, affi liative, democratic, pace setting, or coaching ( 9 ). In another, leaders are directive, engaged, coaching, consensus, affi liative, or expert ( 10 ). Although there is much to be learned from studying these lead- ership styles, most leaders will succeed most consistently by being true to their own nature, learn to work with and improve the skills they already possess, and not attempt to fi t into a rigid description of an archetype ( 11 ). Research approach . Academic research on leadership has described a wide variety of theories: traits, skills, style, situational, contingency theory, path-goal theory, leader – member exchange theory, transformational leadership, authentic leadership, team leadership, and psychodynamic approach ( 12 ). Most of these are not easily understood by the casual student of leadership, and most are not easily applied in a practical manner. Of those listed above, transformational leadership and authentic leadership have more recently become mainstream topics of discussion, and team leadership is increasingly becoming an important topic in medi- cine ( 10,13,14 ). Except for those interested in becoming investiga- tors in research theory, these approaches off er very little practical value. What do leaders do? All leadership occurs in a context, at a specifi c point in an organization ’ s history, with a unique set of circumstances. What is required from a leader of a technol- ogy company is diff erent depending on whether it is a start- up, a well-established entity, a small fi rm, a national fi rm, or even an international company. Th e decisions faced by a solo practitioner are diff erent compared with those of the manag- ing partner of a large single specialty medical group. Similarly, leadership in a stable business is very diff erent from what is required in a fi eld undergoing major transformation. Th e skills required to lead a medical practice just a few years ago may not be the most valuable in this time of transformation in medicine. Finally, should you face a crisis, be it an international reces- sion or a major public relationship catastrophe, a diff erent set of skills is required of the leader. Nevertheless, I believe there are some essential responsibilities that are common to most sets of circumstances. (i) Serve as the public face of the organization or group Th e leader is the embodiment of the organization. Th ey are the face to the external world, the one expected to articulate issues and solutions, and the person whose photograph and name are synon- ymous with the organization they lead. Although these responsi- bilities are oft en delegated to public relations or to human relations staff , the leader ultimately remains the fi gurative and literal face of the organization. In a medical practice, the leader of the group may be diff er- ent from the individual who is the public face. For example, the group may be widely associated with the name of the founding partner; yet the actual leadership may be provided by another member. In many groups, particularly smaller and medium sized ones, all of the members have equal responsibility for being the public face of the organization. However, ultimately, someone has to represent the group ’ s interests to external constituencies such as a hospital administration, or to business, legal, fi nancial, or accounting interests. (ii) Articulate the vision and mission Some remain uncomfortable with “ the vision thing, ” and oth- ers believe that vision and mission statements are intended to be hung from a wall and then ignored. However, most authori- ties agree that well-developed and articulated vision and mis- sion statements are essential. Th ey describe the aspiration of the organization, and clarify the very purpose for the organization ’ s existence ( 15 – 17 ). Th ey are a succinct roadmap for management and employees to follow in their behavior and decision making, and should guide all of the actions within the organization. In addition to the organization ’ s vision and mission, the leader should have her own personal vision and mission ( 16,18 ). Peo- ple have a strong desire to understand their leader. It is hard for someone to enthusiastically embrace and follow a leader if they do not know what that person stands for. It is also hard for the leader herself to succeed in a complex world of priorities and decisions without a strong system of values to provide guidance ( 19 ). (iii) Create culture Culture is the glue that holds an organization together, the oft en unwritten rules of behavior and attitude, which are critical for THE RED SECTION The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY VOLUME 110 | MARCH 2015 www.amjgastro.com 364 creating a well-functioning group. Th e reverse is also true. A dys- functional or “ toxic ” culture can impede, if not prevent, a group from fulfi lling its potential. Th e work of an organization is per- formed in the “ microenvironments ” of the company. Th is is where culture lives, where the real work is performed, and where results are determined. You create culture whether you intend to or not, whether you do so consciously or unconsciously. As Ralph Waldo Emerson stated, “ your actions speak so loudly that I can ’ t hear what you say. ” Th is is done in many ways: by the values that you espouse; how compensation is awarded; who is recognized and who is promoted; which projects receive funding; and what behav- iors are tolerated ( 20,21 ). Is your compensation based on pure productivity, or is revenue shared? How do you deal with a part- ner who is disrespectful toward staff ? Do you pay strict attention to medical billing compliance, confl icts of interest, or issues of confi dentiality? (iv) Strategic planning Despite the daily demands that confront us, a leader must always be looking ahead and planning for the future ( 22 – 24 ). Th e success, and potentially the very existence, of the organiza- tion depends on this. Where might competition that does not even exist today arise? What will our existing competitors do? Are there any disruptive technologies that pose a signifi cant threat? Do any of these off er a new market, or a competitive advantage? Th is is an area that many physicians have been slow to adopt. We had the luxury of working hard, doing a good job, and looking out for the interests of our patients, knowing that there would be plenty of patients to care for. However, as hospitals merge, more physicians become employed, and networks solidify, the supply of patients may become limited. Th ere will also be continuous pres- sure to lower costs. What impact will this have on the provision of deep sedation for routine endoscopic procedures? Will improving technology, such as fecal immunochemical testing, become the preferred option for colorectal cancer screening? How will bun- dled payments and ACO participation impact both utilization and reimbursement? (v) Decide what to focus on Th e leader must decide what to focus on and, even more chal- lenging, decide what to abandon ( 25 ). Resources are always lim- ited. Th erefore, new investments, and continuing the support of existing projects, must be directed toward those that are essential to the mission of the organization, and those with the greatest potential to maximize benefi t. Th is requires diffi cult decisions. Even worthy investments may not be able to be supported, either because of limited resources of time and people, or because of competing priorities. Similarly, existing initiatives may need to be abandoned. Not just fi nances are at stake. Employment, and even careers, depends on these decisions, so they can never be undertaken without deep analysis and refl ection. As a section chief considers recruiting a new faculty member, will she recruit someone to generate income by performing screening colonoscopy, or will she recruit some- one to develop a program in benign pancreatic disorders? If you own an ambulatory surgical center, is this the time to look for a partner, or even consider selling? If you opened a satellite office but it is underperforming, is it time to close that office, or do you spend more time and resources to allow for the practice to develop? (vi) Select, and develop, the right people It is critical that a leader develops her leadership team. You need to recruit and select those who have the right combination of skills, values, and attitude to help you and your organization suc- ceed ( 26,27 ). Th e people you select must represent you well and provide you with the input you need to make decisions. Poor selections in personnel can drain enormous time and energy if they do not perform their jobs well. Th ese same people will be selecting their own team, and will base their hiring decisions on your expectations and values, so your impact will be multiplied. You want to be surrounded by people who are smarter than you in their area of expertise, who are self-confi dent and self-moti- vated, who are a good cultural fi t, and who will be honest and open in sharing information and input with you. You then need to help those you have hired succeed. Th ey need to be respon- sible for their own work, allowed to lead their own eff orts, even allowed to make mistakes, and then be expected to learn and grow as a result. As the leader, you serve as their mentor and coach. (vii) Establish a decision-making process Decisions must always be made. Are these made individually or by a committee? Are committees small or inclusive? Is the process risk averse or tolerant of risk? Are the decision makers expected to have all of the available information at their dis- posal, or only 60 – 80 % ? Who needs to sign off and what decisions require higher approval? Th ese are just some of the questions that must be answered. Every leader, and every organization, will have its own unique process. What is important is that everyone understands the process, and that it functions in the manner it is intended to. Th is is an area that has been problematic for many small and medium sized medical groups, which have typically operated as democracies. In the absence of a defi ned process, a unanimous decision may be diffi cult to achieve, and decision making can become captive to the loudest and most insistent partner. As more physicians consider employment options, their role in decision making requires careful consideration. It will be diffi cult for an individual who has grown accustomed to making autonomous decisions to suddenly fi nd themselves part of a larger organiza- tion with little voice in decision making. Th is has implications for both the individual and the group, and deserves discussion in advance. (viii) Manage your boss Most of us do not recognize that our leader has a boss. We look to our leaders to make decisions, not realizing that they, too, THE RED SECTION © 2015 by the American College of Gastroenterology The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY 365 are accountable. You may assume that the section chief is your ultimate authority, but she must report to her chairperson, who in turn is accountable to the Dean. Even the medical school Dean has a superior, typically the university provost or president, and the university president must fulfi ll the expectations of the university Board of Trustees. At whatever level you function as a leader, your ultimate ability to succeed will in large part depend on the support you receive from your superiors. It is therefore imperative that you develop a close working relationship, based on close communication and trust. Th is is what is meant by “ managing your boss ” . Th is is not meant to suggest or recommend manipulation. Rather, it is under- standing how you can best serve your leader and your organiza- tion, knowing when and what information to share, recognizing when to off er a “ heads up, ” and how to keep her informed of the status of your eff orts. In medical groups, the managing partner typically does not have the ultimate decision-making authority. Th eir “ boss ” is the partner, or the managing council, of the practice. An eff ective leader needs to work with what is essentially a board if they want to be successful. (ix) Be responsible 24 / 7 Your responsibilities are not limited to the working day. To your followers, and to your organization, you are the leader 24 / 7. Your words are listened to carefully; your statements are considered factual; your behavior is closely observed. Even when least convenient, it is your responsibility to respond to issues that arise, to interpersonal confl ict that must be managed, to performance issues that cannot be ignored, and to the minicrisis of the day. Your staff recognizes you as the leader of your medical group. As such, your words and actions will be closely watched and scruti- nized. You may espouse patient-centered care, mutual respect, and improving the patient experience to your staff . However, if they do not see you modeling these behaviors, they will not fulfi ll your expectations. Even more importantly, it is necessary to recognize that there are no minor breaches in integrity. Trust is diffi cult to earn, and easy to lose, as are both respect and your reputation ( 28 ). Your success as a leader depends on these. Actions both within and outside of the work environment must be thoughtfully consid- ered. Th is is a burden for many, but that is one more reason why leadership is hard, and maintaining success as a leader over time even harder. Leadership traits and skills . It is beyond the scope of a review article to describe all of the traits, skills, and behaviors relevant to leadership. Th e literature and bookshelves are fi lled with attempts to characterize what qualities make for unique, special, and suc- cessful leaders ( 29 – 35 ). Among the many qualities described are talent, drive, willpower, practical wisdom, loyalty, ethical behavior, articulate, prepared, emotional intelligence, and joy. Leaders have been described as having high energy, resilience, high integrity, and self-awareness. Th ey may have the skills of a “ multiplier, ” an “ infl uencer, ” a “ linch- pin, ” someone with “ mojo, ” capable of “ crucial conversations, ” a “ servant, ” and one who generates trust ( 36 – 42 ). Warren Bennis believes the most essential are guiding vision, passion, integrity, trust, curiosity, and daring ( 43 ). My personal list of essential skills includes listening, asking the right questions , being comfortable with ambiguity, willing- ness to make mistakes, capable of diff erentiating minor from major issues, being proactive, recognizing crucial concerns, being calm in a crisis, having courage to make decisions, being a lifelong learner, having intelligence, having willpower, and being value-based. Diff erent skills will be called upon depending on the circum- stances at any period of time. When an industry leader is required to lead a major manufacturing transformation, the most valuable skills are likely to be diff erent than when that same leader is called before a congressional hearing to deal with a manufacturing defect that had not been addressed and which led to customer fatalities ( 44 – 47 ). It is obvious that nobody is capable of displaying all of these skills, characteristics, and behaviors. Like all human beings, leaders are imperfect. However, if they understand their core responsibilities, and if they display the most important char- acteristics, they will develop the people, culture, and processes necessary to deal with the many challenges faced by any organi- zation. Does leadership matter? Th ere are those who have lost faith in our elected leaders, or who no longer believe that organ- ized medicine provides meaningful leadership. Even in our own institutions some fi nd it hard to have trust in the deci- sion-making process of leaders. Within practices, many doctors take for granted the leadership provided by certain members of the group, and neither appreciate nor reward their eff orts. Th e impact of leadership may take years to recognize, and may not be appreciated until it is lost. However, if we pay attention to the world around us, the potential infl uence and impact of leaders is clear. We are all familiar with talented coaches who are recruited to a new university, or by a professional team, and are able to pro- duce outstanding results that other coaches had not been able to accomplish. Is this because they are dealing with small organi- zations of highly motivated individuals? Are these the sort of results achievable in a medical environment? Let me off er two brief case studies to address these questions. Th e fi rst involves a surgical section at an academic medical center that had only a few clinicians, the most productive of whom was beginning to have deteriorating surgical skills because of physical impairment. A new section chief was recruited. In a short period of time, she recruited several talented surgeons, developed a translational research program, ran a residency training program, and became a departmental leader in qual- ity and safety. Although she was recruited to a major leader- ship position at another institution, a successor was successfully recruited. THE RED SECTION The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY VOLUME 110 | MARCH 2015 www.amjgastro.com 366 are the leader of your own life. You may be a spouse, parent, friend, Little League coach, or Girl Scout leader. You may serve on a not-for-profi t board or a committee in your town. In all of these activities you function as a leader, whether or not you recognize it. Conclusion . We are infl uenced by leadership on a daily basis; yet few of us fully appreciate its impact. When performed well, it has the capacity to elevate both individual and organizational performance. When accomplished poorly, it degrades culture, diminishes performance, and harms the organization. Although many defi nitions of leadership have been off ered, I believe that it can be summarized as a combination of position, responsibilities, attitude, skills, and behaviors that allows someone to bring out the best in others, and the best in their organization, in a sustainable manner. Th ere are any number of styles utilized by leaders, along with a large variety of skills. Diff erent ones are required depend- ing on the immediate issues facing the leader. As a result, a leader hired for one set of circumstances may not have the well- developed skills necessary to accommodate a major transforma- tion ( 47 ). Under these circumstances, the leader must have the ability to reach out to others for assistance. Th is can happen only if the leader possesses suffi cient humility and self-awareness, and has developed the appropriate team to turn to for support. What skills or traits are essential? Th ere is no consensus. How- ever, among them are certainly a guiding vision, passion, inte- grity, trust, curiosity, and daring. Of these, integrity is probably the most important. Although character and integrity are not suffi cient to guarantee eff ectiveness as a leader, they are abso- lutely essential for success ( 48,49 ). Most of us recognize leaders in our professional worlds. Few, however, realize that we are leaders even if we do not hold a formal position of authority. We lead the care that we provide to our own patients. Every patient looks to us for guidance, for “ leadership, ” of their medical care, even those who actively engage in decision making with us. We are also the leaders of our own careers. Th e decisions we make regularly, the manner in which we navigate the challenges of a career, and the attitude we bring to our work are all subject to our control, and are infl u- enced by the attention we pay to developing leadership skills. Similarly, and perhaps most importantly, we are the leaders of our lives. How we approach our roles as a spouse, parent, friend, or citizen, and how we address issues of work – life balance, is our own responsibility. Although our parents oft en remain a strong infl uence, we ultimately become responsible for how we live our lives. Very few people are born to lead. Th ey develop the necessary attitude and skills through a combination of experience, accept- ing opportunity, self-refl ection, mentoring, and seeking educa- tion. Th ese are available to us all. Even when we have no intention of seeking leadership positions, we can improve our individual lives by learning more, and we can certainly improve our organi- zations and medical groups by embracing the traits of a leader. During this time of transformation in health care, and the stress In the second case, a new section chief inherited a mori- bund clinical program that had not achieved success under several previous leaders. He personally reached out to referral sources, recruited talented colleagues, and reinvigorated the program. He was a role model of dedication and clinical excel- lence and set high standards for all in the program. Within several years there was growth in volume, superior clinical outcomes, high patient satisfaction, and a committed referring physician base. Is this relevant to me? Because of the popularly held views that leaders are extroverts, charismatic, tall, thin, glamorous, bril- liant, and born to lead, most of us do not think of ourselves as leaders. We also fi nd that the people we identify as leaders in our own institutions are isolated from us, and we cannot con- nect their actions to our daily lives. However, these leaders are making important decisions that do in fact impact us directly. In medical schools, such leaders include the Dean, the C-suite of the Dean ’ s offi ce, chairs, vice-chairs, section chiefs, training program directors, and a variety of medical directors. In the hospital, the equivalent positions include the CEO, president, C-suite leaders, vice presidents, and service line coordinators. All of us interact, or are directly infl uenced, by some if not all of these people. It is too easy to be fatalistic or passive when it comes to those who lead us. Th ey matter. Th ey make a big diff erence, for better and for worse. To the extent that we can infl uence the selection of our leaders, we should exercise that ability. To the extent that we are encouraged and empowered to off er advice and feedback, we should do so in a thoughtful, balanced, and nonconfrontational manner. In gastroenterology, there are a variety of leadership roles. Th ese include section chief, clinical vice-section chief, research vice- section chief, chief of endoscopy, fellowship program director, medical director of quality and safety, disease team leader, physi- cian offi ce manager, research lab leader, and principal investigator. For those in private practice, there are multiple leadership roles within a group, such as managing partner, offi ce medical director, director of endoscopy, research director, or director of quality and safety initiatives. Without necessarily recognizing it many of us are leaders already. We may not be section chief or department chair, but we may be a medical director of a hospital service, the clinic director of our outpatient practice, or the chief quality and safety offi cer for our program. Th ese are leadership positions. You have the potential to improve your program, and provide great value to patients, by the eff ective application of leadership. For those whose professional life is devoted to patient care, you are the leader of your patients ’ medical care. Your patients look to you for leadership of their personal well-being. You are also the leader of your own practice, or at least the manner in which care is provided to all of your patients. In addition, you are the leader of your career. Developing a career should not be thought of as a passive process. You need to be responsible for your own development, growth, and progress. Finally, you THE RED SECTION © 2015 by the American College of Gastroenterology The American Journal of GASTROENTEROLOGY 367 of uncertainty, leadership is becoming increasingly important both professionally and personally. We should not passively accept our current circumstances as though nothing can be changed. We must individually and collectively expect more of ourselves and our leaders, assume personal responsibility, and become more eff ective leaders. 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Th e Leadership Challenge: How to Make Extraordinary Th ings Happen in Organizations , 5th edn, Jossey-Bass: Hoboken, NJ , 2012 , pp. 224 – 9 . 37 . Covey S . Th e Speed of Trust: Th e One Th ing Th at Changes Everything . Free Press: New York City , 2008 . 38 . Wiseman L , McKeown G . Multipliers: How the Best Leaders Make Every- one Smarter . Harper Business: New York City , 2010 . 39 . Godin S . Linchpin: Are You Indispensable? . Portfolio Trade: New York City , 2011 . 40 . Goldsmith M . Mojo: How to Get It, How to Keep It, How to Get It Back If You Lose It . Hyperion: New York City , 2010 . 41 . Patterson K , Grenny J , McMillan R et al. Crucial Conversations: Tools for Talking When Stakes Are High . McGraw-Hill: New York City , 2011 . 42 . Grenny J , Patterson K , Maxfi eld D et al. Infl uencer: Th e New Science of Leading Change . McGraw-Hill: New York City , 2013 . 43 . Bennis W . On Becoming a Leader , 4th edn, Basic Books: New York City , 2009 , pp. 33 – 5 . 44 . George B . 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work_i2332qcqd5cffanhun2sy44txa	----	LyL 19.indd Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 129 Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom Dr. Antonio Lastra* Resumen: Este artículo ofrece una lectura comparada, una lectura fuerte, de la escritura constitucional de Emerson y Thoreau, la escritura reticente de Leo Strauss y las pautas revisionistas de Harold Bloom, y discute los conceptos de influencia y canon con el propósito de establecer la posibilidad de la lectura. Este ensayo es una defensa de la ética de la literatura. Palabras clave: leer, escritura constitucional, ética de la literatura Abstract: This paper is a comparative reading, a strong reading indeed, of the consti- tutional writing of Emerson and Thoreau, the reticent writing of Leo Strauss and the revisionist ratios of Harold Bloom. Also it disputes the notions of influence and canon and it aims to establish the possibility of reading. This paper is an apology of literary ethics. Key Words: Reading, Constitutional Writing, Literary Ethics. * Español. Doctor en Filosofía y profesor de Filosofía en la Enseñanza Secundaria española. Codirector de La Torre del Virrey. Revista de Estudios Culturales (www.latorredelvirrey. es) y traductor, entre otros autores, de Leo Strauss y Stanley Cavell. Sú último libro es Emerson como educador (2007, Madrid: Verbum). E-mail: alastra@contraclave.org. ISSN 0716-5811 / pp. 129-144 Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 130 Mi residencia era más favorable, no sólo para el pensamien- to, sino para la lectura seria, que una universidad y... estuve más que nunca bajo la influencia de los libros... “Esta ventaja he tenido con los libros..., tal placer he experimentado cuando he bebido el licor de las doctrinas esotéricas”... Los libros heroicos, aun cuando estén impresos en los carac- teres de nuestra lengua materna, siempre estarán en una lengua muerta para las épocas degeneradas y tendremos que buscar laboriosamente el significado de cada palabra y verso, conjeturando un sentido más amplio del que permite el uso común por nuestra sabiduría, valor y generosidad... Leer bien, es decir, leer verdaderos libros con un espíritu verdadero, es un noble ejercicio... Los libros deben ser leí- dos tan deliberada y reservadamente como fueron escritos. Ni siquiera es suficiente ser capaz de hablar la lengua de la nación en la que están escritos, pues hay un intervalo memorable entre la lengua hablada y la escrita, la lengua oída y la lengua leída. La primera es, por lo general, tran- sitoria, un sonido, un habla, sólo un dialecto... La segunda es la madurez y la experiencia de la primera; si aquélla es nuestra lengua materna, ésta es nuestra lengua paterna, una expresión reservada y selecta, demasiado significati- va para que los oídos la oigan, y tendríamos que volver a nacer para hablarla.... Lo que la multitud romana y griega no pudo oír, algunos escolares lo leyeron tras el intervalo de las épocas, y sólo algunos escolares siguen leyéndolo... La humanidad no ha leído las obras de los grandes poetas, pues sólo los grandes poetas pueden leerlas... Ni siquiera los que llamamos buenos lectores han leído los mejores libros... La mayoría de los hombres no sabe que otra nación, salvo la hebrea, tenga su escritura... No todos los libros son tan torpes como sus lectores... Quizá exista el libro que nos explique nuestros milagros y revele otros nuevos... Es hora de que las ciudades sean universidades... Ésa es la escuela poco común que necesitamos (Thoreau, 20073: 146-155). Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 131 1. Introducción Podemos leer entre líneas el capítulo sobre la lectura de Walden de Thoreau y extractar esta larga y memorable serie de citas, aunque ni “Leer” ni Walden sean en sí mismos textos originales, de modo que nos sirvan de introducción a la lectura de los textos de Ralph Waldo Emerson, Leo Strauss y Harold Bloom, y a la relación entre esos textos, que quisiera es- tablecer en estas páginas, concebidas, en parte, como un simple comen- tario de texto. La originalidad o la autoridad del texto literario que sirve de fuente a un comentario son un misterio y un problema que la lectura y la literatura comparada no han logrado desvelar ni resolver nunca por completo, y seguramente tendríamos que volver a nacer para lograrlo, como intuía Thoreau cuando, en uno de los pasajes cruciales del libro, en el capítulo sobre la “Soledad”, se refirió enigmáticamente a su relación con el “viejo colono y propietario original” de Walden, que era y no era a la vez Emerson, propietario real de la parcela de tierra donde Thoreau había fijado su residencia. “Aunque se cree que ha muerto –añadía Tho- reau– nadie podría mostrar dónde está enterrado.” En su vecindad vivía también una “anciana dama” (la naturaleza), cuya memoria se remontaba “más allá de la mitología” y que era capaz de contarle a Thoreau “el original de cada fábula”. Pasajes como éste, y todo el capítulo sobre la lectura, constituyen lo que Thoreau llamaría “revisar la mitología”. Su residencia era, en efecto, más favorable para el pensamiento y la lectura seria que cualquier universidad. 2. La lectura entre líneas de “Leer” anuncia casi todas las preocupa- ciones de la teoría contemporánea de la literatura, eminentemente universitaria, respecto a la prioridad textual, la inexistencia del autor o del texto, la diferencia entre la voz y la escritura, la imposibilidad de leer o de encontrarnos en algún lugar o en algún momento fuera del texto, la lectura recíproca y exclusiva de los grandes poetas, e incluso los criterios de corrección política y el elitismo de las humanidades, entre otras preocupaciones, sin embargo, completamente ajenas a Thoreau, que a menudo hacía algo mejor y que, a diferencia de los partidarios de la deconstrucción, solía dejar un amplio margen en su vida antes que en su filosofía. “Lector” es en Walden sinónimo de “estudiante” y de “visionario”. El capítulo que sigue a “Leer” y que, de acuerdo con la escritura revisionista de Thoreau, lo corrige, se llama “Sonidos” y anima a leer la lengua “sin metáfora” del hado. Leer es, por sí mismo, una revisión de la mitología, de la razón de ser de los textos, de su propia condición literaria en relación con la vida: leer deliberadamente es vivir deliberadamente. (A “Sonidos” le sigue “So- ledad”. La revisión de la mitología de Thoreau podría servir de pauta a las pautas revisionistas de Bloom en La ansiedad de la influencia.) Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 132 ¿Es “Leer”, “Reading”, con esta perspectiva, una interpretación o “misreading” –o “misprision”, de acuerdo con los términos de Bloom, que podríamos traducir también por “malentendido” o “tergiversación” e incluso por “mala lectura”, aunque difícilmente en este caso, que se correspondería más bien con una “strong reading” o “lectura firme”– y el ejemplo por antonomasia de la “ansiedad de la influencia” de uno de esos textos, “El escolar americano” de Emerson, susceptible además, como hemos visto, de una lectura entre líneas, según Leo Strauss sugería que habían de leerse determinados libros durante las épocas de persecución y de censura? En “Leer”, Thoreau no se refería sólo a la lectura de otros libros o escritores –entre los que cita, no del todo arbitrariamente, a Homero, Esquilo, Virgilio, la Biblia, Dante, Shakespeare y Platón–, sino que descubría la pauta de la propia escritura de Walden y de su lectura posterior, de nuestra propia necesidad de aprender a leer. La insistencia emersoniana de Thoreau en que las ciudades debían convertirse en uni- versidades evocaba, precisamente, una de las categorías de la antigua retórica, actualizada por la escritura constitucional americana, que despla- za continuamente todas nuestras consideraciones del aula al ágora y del ágora al aula. Walden exponía de una manera trascendental las condicio- nes de posibilidad del regreso a la civilización, que Thoreau consideraba una “transcripción” o traducción de los clásicos. “Ahora soy de nuevo un residente en la vida civilizada.” Ese regreso a la civilización, inscrito en el primer párrafo del libro y que se correspondía con la “fe en la resurrección y la inmortalidad” con la que acababa, no difiere esencialmente de la búsqueda romántica de un bien desconocido ni de la ascensión clásica hacia la idea del bien. Emerson y Thoreau son tan románticos como clásicos en este sentido, y no resultaría fácil conjeturar un sentido más amplio del término romanticismo –que ha guiado la teoría de la poesía de Bloom– para “El escolar americano”: “No busco lo grande, lo remoto, lo romántico”, dirá Emerson. Dónde haya que estar en cualquier época para empezar a leer es, por el contrario, una cuestión previa de la mayor importancia, en parte porque nuestra residencia actual es una extensión cultural de la democracia –en modo alguno en una época de persecución o de censura, al menos en occidente, ni siquiera de “resentimiento”, sino constitucional–, y sobre todo porque la universidad ya no es un lugar más favorable que otros lugares públicos o privados para la lectura seria de los mejores libros. El capítulo previo a “Leer” en Walden llevaba por título “Dónde vivía y para qué”. En “El escolar americano”, Emerson dirá: “Abrazo lo común, exploro y me siento a los pies de lo familiar, de lo inferior”. El romanticismo o trascendentalismo americano podría resumirse en la pregunta central de la enseñanza emersoniana: “En realidad, ¿de qué conocemos el significado?”. Creo que toda la obra de Bloom es un intento por responder a esta pregunta dotando de contenido a un significado puesto en entredicho por la deconstrucción (Bloom, 1979: 1-37). (En el prefacio a Deconstruction and Criticism, Hartmann afirmaría que para él Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 133 mismo y para Bloom, a diferencia de los otros coautores, practicantes de la deconstrucción –Paul de Man, Jacques Derrida y J. Hillis Miller–, “the ethos of literature is not dissociable from its pathos” (Bloom, 1979: ix). En una época constitucional, actuar colectivamente, como decía Thoreau, responde al espíritu de nuestras instituciones. Las páginas que siguen responden tanto al espíritu de la institución literaria que se mani- fiesta en la escritura reticente de Leo Strauss y en el canon de Bloom como al desafío que para esa institución suponen la escritura constitucional o la ética de la literatura de Emerson y Thoreau, un desafío que puede deparar perfectamente una mejora de la institución misma, como de hecho creo que ha sucedido. Emerson se refirió a esa mejora como una “revolución” que tendría lugar mediante la “domesticación gradual de la idea de cultura”. “Cultura”, más que “poesía” (como en Bloom) o “filosofía” (específicamente “política”, como en Leo Strauss), será una de las palabras clave de la escritura constitucional emersoniana, y lo será hasta el final, hasta el gran texto sobre La conducta de la vida, donde “cultura” tendrá un significado equivalente a “Constitución” (Emerson, 2004).1 No vivimos en una época de persecución o de censura; irónicamente podríamos decir incluso que ningún gobierno occidental amenaza con prohibir la lectura de los libros, sino que es más bien la propia sociedad civil o liberal la que consiente en que se estén olvidando o diseminando, disminuida su im- portancia, sobre todo, en su sistema educativo, del que la sociedad no es menos responsable que el gobierno. ¿A quién le corresponde leer? ¿Quién debe leer los libros con la misma deliberación y reserva con que fueron escritos si ni siquiera los que llamamos buenos lectores han leído los mejores libros? La institución literaria es primordialmente una institución de enseñanza, la escuela poco común que –según Thoreau– necesitamos: “Aspiro a tratar con hombres más sabios que los que ha producido esta tierra nuestra de Concord... ¿Oiré el nombre de Platón y no leeré nunca su libro? Es como si Platón fuera un conciudadano mío y nunca lo viera, o vecino mío, y nunca lo oyera hablar ni estuviera atento a la sabiduría de sus palabras”. La lectura no es sólo una cuestión de deleite individual, 1 En vísperas de la Guerra de Secesión –una secesión semántica además de política–, el empleo de los términos constitucionales sustituiría en el léxico emersoniano al término “revolución”, que Emerson había empleado hasta entonces. Acabada la guerra, Emerson hablaría del “progreso de la cultura”. Véase el poema que sirve de prólogo al capítulo “Cultura” de La conducta de la vida, donde Emerson se refiere a la “suave influencia” de la que es susceptible el “semidiós al que esperamos”, y que tanto influiría en Friedrich Nietzsche. (La conducta de la vida, publicado en 1860, era también una lectura de Wal- den: véase el capítulo dedicado a la “Riqueza”.) El uso emersoniano del término “cultura” condiciona favorablemente, en mi opinión, la práctica de los Estudios Culturales: “Un nuevo grado de cultura –escribió en “Círculos”– revolucionaría instantáneamente todo el sistema de las aspiraciones humanas” (Emerson, 1996: 408). Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 134 un juego estético autónomo, como Bloom defiende, sino que también constituye una exigencia de la comunidad.2 3. Una tarde del verano de 1837, poco antes de pronunciar el discurso ante la Phi Beta Kappa Society de Cambridge que ahora conocemos como “El escolar americano”, Emerson anotó en su diario –donde el discurso iba tomando forma paulatinamente y adquiriendo toda su dimensión inaugural– que había dado un paseo por los bosques de Walden. “El escolar americano” supondría, como Walden, un regreso a la civilización. Entre los asistentes al discurso, pronunciado el 31 de agosto, se encontraba el propio Thoreau, que se había licenciado en la Universidad de Harvard ese mismo año y que, como los otros miembros del recién fundado círculo trascendentalista de Concord, ya había leído para entonces el primer libro de Emerson, Naturaleza, publicado anónimamente el año anterior y donde podía leerse la pre- gunta inicial de la filosofía en América a la que Walden trataría de dar una respuesta: “¿Por qué no habríamos de disfrutar también nosotros de una relación original con el universo?”. En el cuarto capítulo del libro, “Lenguaje”, que hoy cobra un valor de lectura extraordinario por la prioridad concedida al significado, Emerson enunciaría –citando tácitamente la autoridad cristiana de George Fox– la ley fundamental de la crítica, según la cual “toda Escritura ha de ser interpretada por el mismo espíritu que la produjo”. La Escritura, con mayúscula, se 2 Leo Strauss sugirió que las enseñanzas más importantes respecto a la escritura reticente se encontraban “sepultadas en los escritos de los retóricos de la antigüedad” (Strauss, 1996: 77). Véase, sin embargo, Reyes, 19972: 405: “Que Cicerón y otros muchos hayan ido al Asia Menor por lecciones de oratoria, se explica considerando que en aquellas comunidades griegas las normas democráticas se conservaron prácticamente hasta el primer siglo de nuestra era... La oratoria, pues, conservaba allá su natural ambiente. Sin embargo, la tendencia natural de la retórica... era ya el confinarse dentro de las aulas, alejándose de la vida del pueblo y tipificándose en una pedagogía escolástica que se disputaba con los filósofos la educación de la juventud”. (Adviértase el uso equívoco del adjetivo “natural”. El artículo “Persecution and the Art of Writing”, que daría nombre al libro de Strauss, publicado originalmente en 1952, y La antigua retórica datan ambos de 1941. Una comparación de los dos textos explicaría algunos de nuestros milagros y revelaría otros nuevos.) Sobre “la primera escena de instrucción”, véase Bloom, 20032: 41-62; véase también el capítulo previo, “The Dialectics of Poetic Tradition”, pp. 26-40, especialmente relevante por la apelación de Bloom a la autoridad de Quintiliano. La escritura constitucional de Emerson y Thoreau permitiría leer lo que podemos llamar la ética de la literatura en Quintiliano –la formación del carácter del orador en para- lelo a su formación intelectual– sin incurrir en un estudio de la nostalgia del sistema republicano, fuera del cual el orador estaría condenado a la reticencia. La literatura es siempre original. Véase Inst. Orat., XII, ii, 2-14: “Nos ipsam nunc uolumus significare substantiam, ut grammatice litteratura est, non litteratrix quem ad modum oratrix, nec litteratoria quem ad modum oratoria: uerum id in rhetorice non fit”. Agradezco al profesor Till Kinzel que me haya permitido leer su trabajo inédito Die Bedeutung der Redelehrer für die vita activa der Römer. Eine Analyse von Quintilians institutio oratoria und Tacitus’ dialogus de oratoribus y a los profesores Salvador Santafé, María Jesús Iniesta e Isabel Martínez su ayuda en la lectura de Quintiliano. Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 135 correspondía con la escritura constitucional. La última exhortación de Naturaleza animaba, en consecuencia, a sus lectores a “construir un mundo propio” (Emerson, 1971: 17-23, 18).3 “El escolar americano” ha sido considerado, desde entonces, la Decla- ración de Independencia literaria, una escritura de enmienda o mejora de la Declaración de Independencia política y de la propia Constitución de los Estados Unidos de América. “Nuestro día de dependencia –diría Emerson en aquella ocasión–, nuestro largo aprendizaje de las enseñanzas de otras tierras, ha terminado.” (Thoreau empezaría a vivir en Walden, “por accidente”, el 4 de julio de 1845, el día en que se conmemora la De- claración de Independencia. Sobre la prioridad textual de la Declaración de Independencia, véase, en estrecha relación con estas páginas, Derrida, 1984: 11-32.) Sin embargo, Emerson advertiría en seguida cuáles eran las “influencias” que recibía el escolar americano. Es tan difícil no trazar una analogía con el significado que Bloom le ha dado a la palabra como resistirse a su propia influencia. “La primera en el tiempo y la primera en importancia de las influen- cias que recibe es la de la naturaleza.” Una de las pautas de la escritura emersoniana es la recurrencia de los escritos anteriores en los posteriores, el revisionismo que luego practicará Thoreau en Walden y en Walden. La influencia de la naturaleza es también la influencia de Naturaleza, que empezaba diciendo que “nuestra época es retrospectiva” y acababa con un capítulo llamado “Prospects”. Desde el punto de vista de la escritura constitucional o de la escritura prospectiva que mejora el texto original de la comunidad que había creado su propio mundo de lectores, resulta significativo que Emerson dijera que una época retrospectiva es la que erige los “sepulcros de los padres”, es decir, de los padres fundadores de la nación. (Herman Melville, que sería el primero en acusar precipi- tadamente a Emerson de no darse cuenta de la presencia del mal en el mundo, concebiría la escritura como un “epitafio”, y es difícil sustraerse a esa impresión cuando leemos Pierre, Moby Dick o Billy Budd.) La influencia de la naturaleza descubre, por el contrario, una raíz común con el hombre, por encima de las circunstancias y de la época. La escritura constitucional emersoniana, que recibe su gracia de la gracia de la naturaleza, tiene que enfrentarse a la influencia, mucho más poderosa, de la historia. 3 “El escolar americano” recibiría este nombre en la reedición en 1849 de Naturaleza y los discursos y conferencias que Emerson había dado hasta la publicación de la pri- mera serie de los Ensayos en 1841. Esta reedición aparecía ya con el nombre del autor. Traduzco Scholar por “escolar”, que me parece preferible a “intelectual”, “hombre de letras”, “filólogo”, “escritor” o “filósofo”. El profesor Ramón del Castillo me ha sugerido que podría traducirse, de acuerdo con una vieja tradición española, por “maestro”, y sin duda Emerson es el Erzieher de sus lectores (véase Lastra, 2007). Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 136 A la influencia de la naturaleza le sigue, en efecto, la influencia del pasado. “Los libros –escribió Emerson– son el mejor ejemplo de la influencia del pasado.” ¿Cómo leía Emerson? Hacia el final de su vida, Emerson establecería la polaridad entre la “cita” y la “originalidad” que caracteriza al buen lector, que ha de ser un inventor para leer bien y poder tomar en préstamo (Emerson, 1996: 1028-1042). Lo contrario del buen lector sería el “restaurador de lecturas”. Leo Strauss y Bloom, buenos y hasta excelentes lectores, serían, sin embargo, restauradores de lecturas según la teoría emersoniana de los libros. Los libros ejercen noblemente toda la influencia del pasado, aunque Emerson sería reacio a aceptar su influencia, poniendo de relieve precisamente la actitud que Bloom ha diagnosticado como “ansiedad de la influencia”: “Preferiría –dice Emer- son– no haber visto nunca un libro que desviarme de mi órbita a causa de su atracción”. Su peculiar “lectura entre líneas”, a la que aludiría en “Cita y originalidad”, tendría que permitirle descubrir en los libros “cosas mejores que las que escribió el autor”, aunque no desvelar el misterio de la lectura –el problema de la prioridad o la autoridad irremisiblemente perdida– que anotaría en un pasaje de su diario, poco antes de pronun- ciar el discurso sobre “El progreso de la cultura” con el que, treinta años después de haber sido vetado en la Universidad de Harvard, volvía a dirigirse al público universitario: Leer. Creo que cualquier viejo escolar habrá tenido la experiencia de leer en un libro algo que era significativo para él y que no ha vuelto a encontrar; está seguro de haberlo leído, pero nadie más lo ha hecho y él mismo no puede encontrarlo, aunque rebusque en cada página (2 de julio de 1867, Emerson, 2006; 1894: 473-484). Esa experiencia simultánea de sentido y de pérdida del sentido, de presencia y de ausencia –teñida incluso con la melancolía del final de su vida como lector–, señala más que ninguna otra experiencia la creación y el límite del genio de la lectura. “El genio es siempre el enemigo del genio por un exceso de influencia”, dirá Emerson en “El escolar america- no”. El exceso de influencia o la ansiedad de la influencia indicarían para Emerson un modo inadecuado de leer. Emerson preconizaría una lectura creativa análoga a una escritura creativa. La lectura creativa discierne en los libros “las auténticas expresiones del oráculo” y desecha lo demás. La lectura creativa capta todo el significado de la escritura reticente y logra ponerse a salvo de la influencia. Bloom negará y reafirmará esa salvación cuando hable de la lucha de un significado contra otro que suscita la ansiedad. Las influencias de la naturaleza y del pasado preceden a la influencia de la acción. Juntas proporcionan la “educación” del escolar. La educa- ción del escolar sometido a las influencias de la naturaleza, el pasado y la Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 137 acción le impone una serie de obligaciones, la principal de las cuales es “la confianza en sí mismo”, en la que se reúnen todas las virtudes. En “El escolar americano”, confianza en sí mismo es “Self-trust”, “self-relying” y “confidence in himself”. En la primera serie de los Ensayos (publicada en 1841), Emerson preferirá “Self-Reliance”, y “Confianza en sí mismo”, el segundo de los ensayos tras “Historia”, constituirá el primer gran ejemplo de la escritura emersoniana: “El otro día leí –dirá Emerson en la primera línea del ensayo– algunos versos escritos por un pintor eminente que eran originales y no convencionales”. (La primera línea del ensayo de Emerson es significativa. En el diario, el término original era “Self-respect”, una lectura a su vez de la “Acquiescence” o “Patience” de los cuáqueros. A “Confianza en sí mismo” le sigue el gran ensayo sobre la “Compensa- ción”, donde Emerson dirá que lo mejor del escritor es lo menos privado. Véase Emerson, 1996: 259-282; Cavell, 2003). Los Ensayos fueron el primer libro publicado con el nombre propio de Emerson. La originalidad, la autoridad, el inconformismo, la independencia, la confianza en sí mis- mo y en su escritura se oponían en él a la lectura “mendicante y servil”. La confianza en sí mismo era también la aversión de la sociedad en la que Stanley Cavell ha visto la condición menos favorable de la filosofía emersoniana. Un pasaje del diario, escrito poco antes del Discurso a la Facultad de Teología que le acarrearía el veto en la Universidad de Harvard y supondría el desplazamiento de la escritura emersoniana del púlpito y el aula al ágora, fija los términos de la polaridad de la sociedad y la so- ledad de la escritura emersoniana: “En el jardín, el ojo observa las nubes pasajeras y los bosques de Walden, pero evita la ciudad. ¡Pobre sociedad! ¿Qué has hecho para ser la aversión de todos nosotros?” (24 de junio de 1838). La naturaleza pública de la escritura emersoniana trascendía el rechazo institucional y dejaba a la sociedad expuesta a la libre apariencia de las palabras de Emerson. La confianza en sí mismo contrarrestaría el pesar que procuraba cada una de las palabras sociales –convencionales, conformistas, dependientes de instituciones– y mejoraría la identidad original del público sobre la que recae la confianza universal del escritor. La argumentación emersoniana, tradicionalmente considerada aforísti- ca y laxa, es, por el contrario, coherente e indestructible. Su premisa es superior a cualquier sensación de ansiedad y se apoya en la libertad y valentía del escolar. Lo contrario de la confianza en sí mismo sería, en efecto, la cobardía. La cobardía nace de la idea errónea de que hemos llegado tarde o de que no podemos expresarnos con libertad, de que “nos detienen –como dirá Emerson– las segundas intenciones”. Por el contrario, el escolar, el escolar americano y, en mi opinión, cualquier lector y escritor constitucionales, asumirán todas las contribuciones del pasado y harán suyas todas las esperanzas del futuro. La domesticación de la idea de cultura es genuinamente revolucionaria y se propone “la conversión del mundo”. El primer principio de la ética de la literatura es que la literatura aún está por escribir. Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 138 4. Stanley Cavell ha insistido en numerosas ocasiones en que no se ha “oído” filosóficamente a Emerson, a diferencia de la lectura o inter- pretación poética que Bloom ha señalado como característica de la literatura americana. En los términos de la escritura constitucional en los que querría expresarme aquí, la ausencia o la influencia de Emerson coincidirían con la ausencia o la influencia de América como un término significativo para la literatura y la filosofía posteriores. Emerson significa América. Leer a Emerson es leer el texto de la nueva e inalcanzable América. En este sentido, tiene razón John Hollander cuando escribe que La ansiedad de la influencia “podría haberse leído como una serie de prolegómenos a un nuevo estudio de América”. Si bien Los poemas de nuestro clima, el libro de Bloom sobre Wallace Stevens, corroboraría esta interpretación –en mi opinión se trata de la obra maestra absoluta de Bloom–, Hollander parece referirse a otra clase de estudio, en la línea de los grandes estudios americanos de Perry Miller y F. O. Matthiessen, sobre la “secundariedad” de la escritura americana. Al margen de la disputa entre la poesía y la filosofía –de la que Bloom descreería y que constituye uno de los capítulos más intrincados de la obra de Leo Strauss–, La ansiedad de la influencia comparte con Persecución y arte de escribir la responsabilidad de un discurso eminentemente conservador, más en lo que concierne a la ética de la literatura que a la política, sobre la formación del canon en la historia y la posibilidad de decir la verdad y la continuidad mis- ma del relato o de las narraciones humanas, en el que “América” no llegará a ser nunca un trasfondo adecuado. Desde el punto de vista de los Estudios Culturales nos encontraríamos en la provincia de la ecología de la cultura si no fuera porque ni Leo Strauss ni, en última instancia, Bloom aceptarían que el orden humano de la producción, al que responde la cultura, pueda confundirse con el orden divino de la creación, al que le corresponde la primera y la última palabra (Bloom, 1988: xvii, xx, xxviii; Altini, 2001: 10-11).4 La revelación de un texto original es decisiva para el judaísmo. Bloom ha proyectado sobre el judaísmo, en lo que tal vez sea el mayor “encuentro de lecturas” de su obra, una ansiedad de la influencia mayor que sobre la poesía secular. Aunque no haya otro texto cuya lectura sea tan “firme” como la Biblia hebrea, la pérdida de la identidad de los judíos americanos se debe, según Bloom, a que ya no se percibe una diferencia textual significativa con la literatura gentil, como si el Deuteronomio y la Constitución fueran equivalentes o pudiera establecerse entre ellos una 4 La relación de Bloom con Hollander –un encuentro de lectores igualmente fuertes– me- recería un ensayo aparte. Bloom ha sido –según Hollander– “el mejor amigo y el crítico más severo de mi poesía, no sólo el crítico de mi poesía sino su amigo” (Hollander, 1998: 171-4; 1974). Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 139 correlación interpretativa errónea, una misreading. “La vieja fórmula del Galut –ha escrito Bloom– ya no funciona en los difusos contextos cultu- rales de América.” Los judíos no escriben los poemas de nuestro clima (Bloom, 1988: 355-57).5 No es probable que Leo Strauss hubiera suscrito la conclusión de Bloom respecto a que “ya no estamos en el exilio”. (El sujeto de la frase sería “Nosotros, los judíos americanos”.) La escritura reticente, por el contrario, es la expresión por antonomasia del exilio, del desplazamien- to o de la incomunicación entre una parte de la sociedad minoritaria e intransigente en su búsqueda de la verdad, constituida por los filósofos, y la mayoría social –cualquiera que sea la sociedad de la que formen par- te– obediente a las costumbres y creencias ancestrales.6 Es posible que, en Persecución y arte de escribir, los falãsifa –según la transcripción ará- biga de la palabra griega para “filósofos” que Leo Strauss emplea– sean, respecto a las sociedades del pasado que Leo Strauss estudia como historiador, un trasunto del pueblo judío respecto a la humanidad. La célebre contraposición de Atenas y Jerusalén sería, de este modo, una sutil superposición destinada a encubrir la profunda desconfianza de Leo Strauss en la sociedad liberal. Un filósofo genuino no podría convertirse nunca en un creyente genuino de ninguna religión revelada y tampoco en un ciudadano genuino de ninguna sociedad. Sin embargo, una sociedad liberal no es exactamente lo mismo que una sociedad constitucional. (La polémica entre Edmund Burke y Thomas Paine a propósito de los derechos del hombre muestra de una manera paradigmática la diferen- cia entre ambas sociedades. Véase también Hegel, 2005, especialmente hacia el final. La última palabra del texto hegeliano es “revolución”.) Leo Strauss trasladó a la sociedad constitucional americana su desconfianza de la sociedad liberal europea, y no sólo de la sociedad totalitaria en la que veía el estadio final inevitable de la sociedad liberal. Sin embargo, el estudio sobre la persecución y la escritura reticente no es sólo un estudio histórico, sino un principio de entendimiento. Para empezar a entender la sociedad en la que se había exiliado, Leo Strauss tuvo que empezar por sentirse extraño en ella. Los falãsifa habían insistido en comparar la vida filosófica con la vida retirada y contemplativa del eremita que salvaguardaba la independencia intelectual. El estudio de la escritura reticente trascendía, por tanto, “los límites de la estética moderna y de 5 En el prólogo a Zakhor, Bloom incurriría en su propia ansiedad de la influencia en el encuentro de lecturas americanas y judías: “No sabremos qué es y qué no es contem- poráneo en la cultura judía hasta que lo examinemos retrospectivamente” (Bloom, 1989: xx). 6 Véase Strauss, 1988 a: 299: “Platón sustituye la ley que fija la creencia en la existencia de los dioses de la ciudad de Atenas por una ley que fija la creencia en la existencia de los dioses del universo, poniendo así el fundamento de la libertad de la filosofía socrática, si no de la libertad de la filosofía como tal”. Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 140 la poética tradicional” y se convertía en un estudio de filosofía política: el estudio del conflicto entre los tradicionalistas y los críticos dotados de pautas de juicio superiores e inalterables. En cualquier sociedad, y también en una sociedad constitucional, la libertad de investigación y la publicación de los resultados de la investigación, serían, cuando menos, arriesgadas, según Strauss, y no estarían garantizadas por completo, lo que obligaría a practicar una “literatura exotérica”. La literatura exotérica tiene que ser capaz de impartir sus enseñanzas a pesar de la inferioridad de la escritura respecto a la transmisión oral del texto original, es decir, de la Escritura en un sentido eminente confiada a unos pocos. La lectura del texto original precede a la escritura reticente. Maimónides, por ejemplo, habría escrito su Guía de perplejos de acuerdo con las mismas reglas que había prescrito para leer la Biblia. Los Diálogos de Platón proporcionarían la fuente clásica de la literatura exotérica. La escritura reticente trata de impedir la lectura efectiva de los censores y se dirige a los futuros falãsifa, que aún no son los iguales del filósofo. La escritura reticente ejerce sobre los futuros falãsifa la influencia de la filo- sofía. La influencia de la filosofía consiste en llevar al lector inteligente y digno de confianza a separarse de sus propias opiniones, a mirar las cosas no desde el punto de vista habitual sino con la perspectiva central de la enseñanza influyente. La influencia de la filosofía significa la conversión a la filosofía, a la búsqueda intransigente de la verdad sobre las cosas más importantes y lo más importante de todas las cosas. La escritura reticente de la filosofía implica, sin embargo, que, “en la actualidad, la verdad sólo resulta accesible mediante algunos viejos libros”. La escritura reticente es un procedimiento de enseñanza de la lectura de los libros que franquean el acceso a la verdad. El acceso a la verdad depende, en última instancia, del acceso al significado original de la filosofía como una búsqueda de la verdad y de la explicación coherente y definitiva del conjunto de las cosas. El histori- cismo, que concibe el acceso a la verdad como algo progresivo y como el resultado, proyectado hacia el futuro, de la cultura de la razón, impide que la idea de esa explicación final tenga sentido. Una vez se llega a esta situación, que para Strauss era la situación de la época moderna en la que las sociedades liberales, totalitarias o democráticas, se encontraban, “el significado original de la filosofía sólo sería accesible mediante el recuerdo de lo que la filosofía significaba en el pasado”, es decir, mediante la lectura de los viejos libros. El significado original de la filosofía es más importante que la originalidad de los filósofos. Cuando el filósofo recuerda el olvi- dado modo de escribir con que se escribieron los viejos libros, la lectura de esos viejos libros adquiere un valor superior al del establecimiento de un nuevo sistema de filosofía (Strauss, 1988 a: 221-232). Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 141 5. Tanto Persecución y arte de escribir como La ansiedad de la influencia causaron la impresión, cuando aparecieron, de ser –como Hollander ha señalado– textos “salvajes y extremadamente erráticos”, si bien la idea central de ambos libros ha acabado disolviéndose en el lenguaje contemporáneo de la filosofía política y la teoría de la poesía, a me- nudo de una forma inconsciente e involuntaria. Leo Strauss diría que, al menos, sus observaciones sobre la escritura reticente habrían de servir para que los historiadores abandonaran la complacencia con la que pretendían conocer lo que pensaban los grandes pensadores y admitieran que el pensamiento del pasado es mucho más enigmático de lo que suponían. El acceso a la verdad histórica –como afirmó al final de “Sobre un modo olvidado de escribir”– es tan difícil como el acceso a la verdad filosófica. Retrospectivamente, Bloom ha señalado que La ansiedad de la in- fluencia (o, como la llama en el prefacio a la segunda edición, la “angustia de la contaminación”) se ha malinterpretado desde el principio y sigue malinterpretándose. Es probable que a esta mala lectura haya contribuido la violencia hermenéutica con la que Bloom ha acabado por transformar su teoría de la poesía en el “canon occidental” y erigido a Shakespeare –una figura secular– en el centro del canon. Sin embargo, el carácter psicológicamente “irresistible” que Bloom le ha dado a la ansiedad de la influencia hace de su lectura una toma de partido. Bloom siempre ha escrito de una manera antitética, contra sus maestros, como advierte Ho- llander, y contra sus lectores. El estudio de la ansiedad de la influencia no es, por ello, un estudio sereno sobre las fuentes literarias o la historia de las ideas, sino que pone de relieve, como la escritura reticente straussiana, un malestar profundo que rara vez aflora a la superficie salvo cuando el fondo se remueve. Su delimitación al terreno de la poesía, especialmente de la poesía romántica inglesa y americana, no debe hacernos olvidar que está en juego algo más que la autonomía estética. A diferencia de la escritura reticente de Leo Strauss, que no puede desprenderse de su carácter educativo en la medida en que se dirige a lectores que aún no son los iguales de los escritores, el espectáculo de la batalla entre iguales, e igualmente fuertes, que la ansiedad de la influencia pone ante los ojos del lector corre el riesgo de suscitar el resentimiento de quien se considera fuera del campo de batalla y, sin embargo, se sabe menos a salvo que los propios contendientes. “Averiguar dónde estamos –escribe Bloom– es la más sombría de nuestras indagaciones, y la más fatídica”, en la medida en que podríamos estar fuera del texto original y de su influencia. Los poetas ni siquiera necesitan leer tan firmemente como los críticos. Para los poetas, la poesía ya está escrita en el lenguaje mismo de la influencia y sólo se trata de dejarse encontrar por los poemas. La influencia poética es un modo de la perversión. Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 142 Las pautas revisionistas establecidas por Bloom en La ansiedad de la influencia y Un mapa de la interpretación –Clinamen o ironía, Tessera o sinécdoque, Kenosis o metonimia, Demonización o hipérbole, Ascesis o metáfora y Apofrades o metalepsis– pueden llevarnos a la tautología y el silencio. En el capítulo emersoniano del libro, “Demonización”, Bloom se revuelve contra su maestro, y Un mapa de la interpretación es el intento, profundamente antagónico, de “invertir” a Emerson por completo. La escritura y la lectura se convierten en un proceso de sacrificio: “Hemos institucionalizado –dirá irónicamente Bloom– los procedimientos emer- sonianos”. En lo que constituye un anuncio de su libro sobre Wallace Stevens, Bloom cita en la última página dedicada a la Ascesis la “búsqueda de un ser humano del que se pueda dar una explicación”, que emprende el nuevo escolar que sustituye al antiguo. Bloom sería el nuevo escolar americano que sustituyera a Emerson. Pero la sustitución está teñida de la melancolía que suscita la ansiedad de que ya no le quede nada por hacer, de que la literatura ya no haya de ser escrita sino que esté ya escrita, de que siempre haya estado escrita. La ansiedad de la influencia pervierte, en efecto, el sentido de la originalidad de la literatura. Si la literatura ya está escrita, si de algún modo siempre lo ha estado, no tiene sentido leerla. 6. Conclusión A la ansiedad de la influencia y a la sensación de impotencia le corres- ponden un tono elegíaco. La revisión de La ansiedad de la influencia y Un mapa de la interpretación enseña a leer el poema de Milton Lycidas, “la elegía central del lenguaje”, y es probable que el propio Bloom pase a la historia de la literatura como un gran escritor elegíaco. Si no un buen lec- tor en el sentido emersoniano, Bloom es desde luego un buen restaurador de lecturas. Un buen restaurador de lecturas no puede llegar demasiado tarde si quiere que su tarea tenga sentido, y a veces da la impresión de que Bloom prefiere que no tenga sentido. Un buen restaurador de lecturas no tiene necesidad de “desmitologizar” y privar de su carácter esotérico a su propia perspectiva sobre la tradición. Ni Thoreau ni Leo Strauss tuvieron la necesidad de hacerlo. La lectura no era imposible para ellos. “Aunque soy un inquieto buscador de significados perdidos –respondería Bloom–, llego a la conclusión de que prefiero un tipo de interpretación que trate de restaurar el significado, y rendirle justicia, a deconstruir el significado.” Es una tardía enseñanza emersoniana. Referencias Altini, Carlo (2001), “Leo Strauss y el canon occidental. La historia de la filosofía como modelo hermenéutico para la Literatura y Lingüística Nº19 143 filosofía política”, trad. de M. Vela Rodríguez, en Res publica. Revista de la historia y el presente de los conceptos políticos, 8, pp. 10-11. Harold Bloom, Paul de Man, Jacques Derrida, Geoffrey H. Hartman, J. Hillis Miller (1979), Deconstruction and Criticism, New York: The Seabury Press. ______ (1988), Poetics of Influence, New and Selected Criticism, edited and with an Introduction by John Hollander, New Haven: Henry R. Schwab. ______ (1989), “Foreword”, en Yerushalmi, Yosef Hayim, Zakhor. Jewish History and Jewish Memory, Washington: University of Washington Press. ______ (1997), The Anxiety of Influence. A Theory of Poetry, Second Edition. New York & Oxford: Oxford UP. ______ (2003), A Map of Misreading, with a New Preface, New York & Oxford: Oxford UP. Cavell, Stanley (2003), Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes, ed. by D. J. Hodge, Stanford: Stanford UP. Derrida, Jacques (1984), “Déclarations d’Independence”, en Otobiographies. L’enseignement de Nietzsche et la politique du nom propre, Paris: Galilée. Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1894), “The Progress of Culture. Address read before the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Cambridge, July 18, 1867”, Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, London: Routledge, pp. 473-84. ______ (1971), Nature, Addresses, and Lectures, Introductions and Notes by Robert E. Spiller, Text established by Alfred R. Fergusson, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. I, Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. ______ (1996), Essays & Poems, ed. by J. Porte, H. Bloom and P. Kane, New York: The Library of America, College Edition. ______ (2003), The Conduct of Life, Introduction by Barbara L. Packer, Notes by Joseph Slater, Text Established by Douglas Emory Wilson, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. VI, Cambridge, Mass., and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. ______ (2004), La conducta de la vida, ed. de J. Alcoriza y A. Lastra, Valencia: Pre-Textos. Leer Emerson, Leo Strauss, Harold Bloom / Dr. Antonio Lastra 144 ______ (2006), The Digital Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson, New York: The Ralph Waldo Emerson Institute. ______ (2008), Naturaleza y otros escritos de juventud, ed. de J. Alcoriza y A. Lastra, Madrid: Biblioteca Nueva. Hegel, G. W. F. (2005), Sobre el proyecto de reforma inglés. El debate de 1831 sobre el Derecho electoral británico, ed. de E. Maraguat, Madrid & Barcelona: Marcial Pons. Hollander, John (1998), The Poetry of Everyday Life, Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press. ______ (1974), The Head of the Bed, with a commentary by Harold Bloom, Boston: David R. Godine. Lastra, Antonio (2007), Emerson como educador, Madrid: Verbum. Reyes, Alfonso (19972), La antigua retórica, en Obras Completas, vol. XIII, México: FCE. Strauss, Leo (1988 a), What is Political Philosophy? and Other Studies, Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press. ______ (1988 b) Persecution and the Art of Writing, Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press. ______ (1996), Persecución y arte de escribir y otros ensayos de filosofía política, ed. de A. Lastra, Valencia: Edicions Alfons el Magnànim. Thoreau, Henry David (2004), Walden, The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, 150th Anniversary Edition, ed. by J. Lindon Shanley with an Introduction by John Updike, Princeton & London: Princeton UP. ______ Walden (20073), Walden, ed. de J. Alcoriza y A. Lastra, Madrid: Cátedra. 
work_i3gzofdfljagnoxcdsrjxok7ey	----	Prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at http://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rpos20 Download by: [Nadav Klein] Date: 18 July 2016, At: 07:15 The Journal of Positive Psychology Dedicated to furthering research and promoting good practice ISSN: 1743-9760 (Print) 1743-9779 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rpos20 Prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life Nadav Klein To cite this article: Nadav Klein (2016): Prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life, The Journal of Positive Psychology, DOI: 10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 Published online: 18 Jul 2016. Submit your article to this journal View related articles View Crossmark data http://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rpos20 http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rpos20 http://www.tandfonline.com/action/showCitFormats?doi=10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 http://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=rpos20&page=instructions http://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=rpos20&page=instructions http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/mlt/10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/mlt/10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2016-07-18 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2016-07-18 The Journal of PosiTive Psychology, 2016 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/17439760.2016.1209541 Prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life Nadav Klein harris school of Public Policy, university of chicago, chicago, il, usa ABSTRACT Finding meaning in life is a fundamental personal need, and motivating prosocial behavior is a fundamental societal need. The present research tests whether the two are connected – whether helping other people can increase helpers’ perceptions of meaning in life. Evidence from a nationally representative data-set and two experiments support this hypothesis. Participants who engaged in prosocial behaviors – volunteering and spending money to benefit others – reported experiencing greater meaning in their lives (Studies 1–3). Study 3 also identifies increased self-worth as the mechanism – participants who spent money to benefit other people felt higher personal worth and self-esteem, and this mediated the effect of prosocial behavior on meaningfulness. The present results join other findings in suggesting that the incentives for helping others do not necessarily depend on the prospect of others’ reciprocity. Prosocial behavior can be incentivized through the psychological benefits it creates for prosocial actors. Identifying the conditions necessary for human flourishing depends in part on the perspective one chooses to take. One can take the perspective of an average person and ask, ‘what is necessary for an indi- vidual to flourish?’ Alternatively, one can take the per- spective of a community or a society composed of many persons and ask, ‘what is necessary for a community to flourish?’ Taking an individual’s perspective will invariably high- light the necessity of finding meaning in life as a fun- damental personal need (Heintzelman & King, 2014a, 2014b). Viewing one’s own life as meaningful is associ- ated with greater longevity, better physical health, and reduced depression and anxiety (Debats, Van der Lubbe, & Wezeman, 1993; Krause, 2009; Taylor, Kemeny, Reed, Bower, & Gruenewald, 2000). In contrast, taking a com- munal perspective will invariably highlight the necessity of prosocial behavior as a fundamental communal need. Prosocial behavior is critical for creating the trust and cooperation necessary to sustain impersonal and com- plex societies and markets (Bowles & Gintis, 2003; Fehr & Schmidt, 1999; Hamilton, 1964; Henrich et al., 2011; Trivers, 1971). The present research investigates whether the per- sonal and communal perspectives are linked. Specifically, I test whether helping other people can increase help- ers’ perceptions of meaning in life, thereby establishing an empirical connection between personal and societal flourishing. There are at least two reasons to predict that helping others can increase a sense of meaning in life. First, help- ing other people can increase helpers’ sense of self-worth, which is one of the basic needs that must be satisfied to achieve a sense of meaning in life, according to preva- lent theoretical accounts (Baumeister, 1991; Baumeister & Vohs, 2002). Helping other people can increase self- worth because prosocial behavior is universally admired and valued (Buss, 1989; Klein, Grossman, Uskul, Kraus, & Epley, 2015). Helping other people is a way for helpers to gain social acceptance and build a positive reputa- tion, which in turn increase helpers’ social status in their communities (Flynn, 2003; Flynn, Reagans, Amanatullah, & Ames, 2006; Grant & Gino, 2010; Lee, 1997). Because social acceptance is a critical determinant of self-worth and self-esteem (Leary, 1999; Leary & Baumeister, 2000), the reputational benefits of prosocial behavior are likely to increase self-worth, which in turn can increase the sense that life is meaningful. Second, another reliable predictor of meaningfulness is social connection with others (Baumeister & Leary, 1995; Debats, 1999; Lambert et al., 2013; Stavrova & Luhmann, 2016). Accordingly, social exclusion and loneliness can lead to substantial psychological damage, including decreased sense of meaning in life (Cacioppo, Hawkley, Rickett, & Masi, 2005; Cialdini & Patrick, 2008). Helping another person is one of the most basic ways to estab- lish and reinforce social connection. Therefore, helping © 2016 informa uK limited, trading as Taylor & francis group KEYWORDS Prosocial behavior; meaning in life; well-being; helping; self-worth; self-esteem; social connection ARTICLE HISTORY received 3 october 2015 accepted 15 June 2016 CONTACT nadav Klein nklein@chicagobooth.edu D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 mailto:nklein@chicagobooth.edu http://www.tandfonline.com 2 N. KLEIN test, the relationship between helping and meaningful- ness remains unclear. The present research provides three such empirical tests. Study 1: nationally representative sample As an initial test, I used a nationally representative sample of adult Americans to measure the association between a particular form of prosocial behavior (volunteering) and the sense of meaning in life, while controlling for various demographic variables. Method The Baylor Religion Survey, Wave 2 (Baylor University, 2007) contains a nationally representative study of religious values, practices, and behaviors (total N  =  1648; 52.98% women; age range = 18–96, Mage = 47.35, SDage = 16.82). Among other items, this survey contains questions rele- vant to the current research. Specifically, the survey asks participants to estimate the amount of hours per month they volunteer in three contexts: (1) volunteering for one’s place of worship; (2) volunteering for the community, not through one’s place of worship; and (3) volunteering for the community, through one’s place of worship. Participants answered these questions on a five-point scale (0 = none; 1 = one to two hours; 2 = three to four hours; 3 = five to ten hours; or 4 = eleven or more hours). As the main inde- pendent variable for this study, I created a composite vol- unteering index by summing these three variables (range: 0–12; Mvolunteering = 1.75, SDvolunteering = 2.33). The main dependent variable was a question asking participants to indicate their level of agreement with the statement ‘my life has a real purpose’ on a four-point scale (1  =  strongly disagree; 2  =  disagree; 3  =  agree; or 4  =  strongly agree). This was the only question in the survey pertaining to meaningfulness, and it is suitable for measuring perceptions of meaning in life because having a sense of purpose is integral to meaningfulness (Heintzelman & King, 2014a, 2014b). This question con- tained an additional option for ‘undecided’ participants. I excluded the 95 participants who chose the ‘undecided’ option, and also excluded 80 additional participants who failed to answer this question or failed to answer one or more of the questions pertaining to volunteering time, resulting in a usable sample of N = 1,473. To verify that the potential association between vol- unteering and meaning in life is not explained by other variables, I controlled for demographic variables including education, income, race, gender, geographic location, and religious denomination (the sample included not only reli- gious participants but also participants who noted their religious tradition to be ‘none’). may increase meaningfulness by increasing the sense of connection to others. The present research tests whether either or both of these two potential mechanisms – self- worth and social connection – can explain the relationship between helping and meaningfulness. The psychological benefits of helping others Although helping is primarily intended to benefit recipients, existing research finds that helping creates benefits for help- ers as well. As mentioned, the most obvious benefit helpers receive is a boost to their reputation in the eyes of others. Observing a person help another increases evaluations of the helper, and in turn motivates recipients and observ- ers to cooperate with helpers in subsequent interactions (Almenberg, Dreber, Apicella, & Rand, 2011; Gray, Ward, & Norton, 2014; Klein & Epley, 2014). This reputational mech- anism is thought to underlie a substantial portion of the incentive for prosocial behavior in general (Barclay, 2004; Nowak & Sigmund, 2005; Rockenbach & Milinski, 2006). Because helping others is viewed positively, helpers can expect to be rewarded with social approval and goodwill. Helping others also creates psychological benefits that do not necessarily depend on others’ judgments and reciprocity. Empirical evidence has thus far pointed to psychological benefits that are mostly hedonic in nature, increasing positive emotion and decreasing negative emo- tion. For example, spending money to benefit other peo- ple can increase happiness compared to spending money to benefit oneself (Dunn, Aknin, & Norton, 2008; Weinstein & Ryan, 2010; Zaki & Mitchell, 2011). Volunteering is asso- ciated with higher levels of happiness and life satisfaction (Thoits & Hewitt, 2001; Wheeler, Gorey, & Greenblatt, 1998). Helping can also reduce sadness associated with seeing another person in need of help (Cialdini et al., 1987). However, meaningfulness and happiness are distinct in important ways. For example, people find meaning in pain- ful and stressful events in their lives, despite being unlikely to extract happiness from such events (Baumeister, Vohs, Aaker, & Garbinsky, 2013). Other experiences, such as nostalgic reflection on the past and thinking about one’s own mortality, increase people’s sense of meaning despite being hedonically negative (Feldman & Snyder, 2005; King, Hicks, & Abdelkhalik, 2009; Landau, Kosloff, & Schmeichel, 2011; Routledge, Sedikides, Wildschut, & Juhl, 2013; Wade- Benzoni & Tost, 2009). Compared to happiness, mean- ingfulness spans a wider range of emotions than simply positive ones, and is also associated with purely cognitive processes such as mental simulation and counterfactual thinking (Kray et al., 2010; Waytz, Hershfield, & Tamir, 2015). Therefore, simply because prosocial behavior creates hedonic benefits does not necessarily mean that it also creates eudaimonic benefits. Without a direct empirical D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 THE JOURNAL OF POSITIVE PSyCHOLOGy 3 Results Table 1 presents the results of four multilevel regressions testing the relationship between volunteering and percep- tions of purpose in life (Mlife purpose = 3.18, SDlife purpose = .63). The first model uses participants’ combined volunteering index as the dependent measure, and the other three models use each of the three components of the volun- teering index as dependent measures. Controlling for demographic variables, greater volunteering was associ- ated with a stronger belief that one’s life has a purpose across all forms of volunteering as well as the combined index, unstandardized Bs > .053, ts > 3.83, ps < .01. Incidentally, two of the seven demographic variables also affected perceptions of life purpose. The first was reli- gious denomination, wherein non-religious participants felt a weaker sense of purpose than members of religious denominations. The second was gender, wherein women tended to experience a stronger sense of purpose than men. Overall, these results provide initial evidence of the pos- itive effect of prosocial behavior on meaning in life. Survey participants who volunteered more often also reported having more purposeful lives. Study 2: manipulating prosocial and self- interested behavior Because correlational evidence does not enable causal inference, Study 2 experimentally manipulated prosocial behavior and tested its effects on self-reported meaning in life. To increase the generalizability of any effects found, Study 2 used a different form of prosocial behavior (spend- ing money to benefit other people) and a more compre- hensive measure of meaning in life. Method Participants were recruited in a lab in a Midwestern uni- versity (N  =  50; 50% women; Mage  =  22.32, SDage  =  4.79). Because two participants failed to complete the follow-up survey, two additional participants were recruited to com- plete the targeted sample. After agreeing to participate in the experiment, each participant was given $5.00 in cash. The experimental manipulation, adapted from Dunn et al. (2008), was then introduced. Participants were randomly assigned to either the prosocial condition or to the self-interested condition. Participants in the prosocial condition were instructed to ‘go out and spend these $5.00 on a gift for someone else or for a donation to a charity of your choice’. In the self-in- terested condition, participants were instructed to ‘go out and spend these $5.00 either on a gift for yourself or for a bill or an expense you have’. After leaving the lab, partici- pants were emailed a follow-up survey that contained the dependent measures. Participants had until 8:00 pm on the day they participated to spend the money as instructed and until 8:00  pm on the following day to complete the follow-up survey. Table 1. association between volunteering and a sense of purpose in life in a nationally representative sample (N = 1473). note:columns labeled ‘B’ and ‘se’ describe unstandardized regression coefficients and standard errors, respectively. The volunteering index is the sum of partici- pants’ self-reported volunteering hours per month for the community through their places of worship, for the community but outside of their places of worship, and directly for the benefit of participants’ places of worship. The reference category for gender is men. The reference category for geographic region is Western united states. The reference category for religious denomination is ‘none’. *represent coefficients significant at p < .05.   Model 1 Model 2 Model 3 Model 4   B SE B SE B SE B SE volunteering:               combined index .05* .01             Through place of worship     .11* .02         outside of place of worship         .06* .02     for place of worship         .12* .02                   Demographic variables:             gender .11* .03 .11* .03 .11* .03 .11* .03 education −.001 .01 .006 .01 .002 .01 .003 .01 age −.02 .01 −.02 .01 −.02 .01 −.02 .01 race −.003 .02 −.01 .02 −.004 .02 −.003 .02 income .003 .01 .003 .01 .003 .01 .005 .01 Denomination: evangelical .26* .06 .27* .06 .31* .06 .23* .06 Denomination: Black Protestant .39* .10 .40* .10 .46* .10 .38* .10 Denomination: Mainline Protestant .14* .06 .16* .06 .19* .06 .15* .06 Denomination: catholic .14* .06 .15* .06 .18* .06 .14* .06 Denomination: other .17* .07 .20* .07 .23* .07 .17* .07 geographic region: east −.04 .05 −.05 .05 −.05 .05 −.04 .05 geographic region: Midwest −.03 .05 −.02 .05 −.03 .05 −.03 .05 geographic region: south −.01 .05 −.01 .05 .01 .05 −.02 .05 D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 4 N. KLEIN than purchases in the self-interested condition (M = 1.24, SD = .61), t (48) = 22.17, p < .001, d = 6.40. Presence of meaning in life The primary measures in this experiment were the five statements in the MLQ that probe participants’ perceptions of the presence of meaning in their lives. I averaged these five statements to obtain a composite measure of presence of meaning (α = .91). Spending money on others increased perceptions of meaning in life (M = 5.04, SD = 1.24) com- pared to spending money on the self (M = 4.14, SD = 1.41), t (48) = 2.41, p = .020, d = .70. Spending money to benefit another person increased perceptions of meaning in life. Search for meaning in life I averaged the other five statements from the MLQ that measure participants’ search for meaning in life (α = .93). Participants’ search for meaning in life was nearly identical in the prosocial spending condition (M = 5.00, SD = 1.39) compared to self-interested spending (M = 5.02, SD = 1.52), t (48)  =  −.04, p  =  .97, d  =  .01. Spending money to bene- fit another person did not affect participants’ search for meaning. This result appears consistent with existing find- ings suggesting that stronger search for meaning tends to occur when people feel that their lives are currently lack- ing meaning (Steger, Kashdan, Sullivan, & Lorentz, 2008). If prosocial behavior tends to increase the presence of mean- ing, then it is unlikely to increase – and may decrease – the major motivation for searching for meaning. Study 3: mechanisms underlying increased meaning Previous studies revealed that prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life. Study 3 tested possible mechanisms underlying this effect. I tested whether spending money on others increases perceptions of mean- ing in life through known determinants of meaningfulness: The follow-up survey contained the Meaning of Life Questionnaire (MLQ; Steger, Frazier, Oishi, & Kaler, 2006), a widely used measure of meaning in life that asks par- ticipants to state their level of agreement with 10 state- ments on 7-point scales. These 10 statements are divided into two subscales that measure two different theoretical constructs. The primary dependent variable in this exper- iment was the first subscale, which measures the presence of meaning in life. This subscale contains five statements such as ‘my life has a clear sense of purpose’ and ‘I under- stand my life’s meaning’. The second subscale measures people’s active search for meaning in life, and contains five statements such as ‘I am searching for meaning in my life’ and ‘I am always looking to find my life’s purpose’. This subscale was not the primary measure of this experiment, but was included for completeness as part of the MLQ. After completing the MLQ, participants were asked on a five-point scale how closely they followed the spending instructions they were given (1 = not at all; 5 = completely). Finally, participants were asked to describe their purchases in a few sentences. Results Manipulation checks The manipulation succeeded. Fully 43 out of the 50 par- ticipants (86%) indicated at least ‘4’ or ‘5’ in answering the question of how closely they followed the spend- ing instructions (M  =  4.38, SD  =  .90). Participants’ open responses describing their purchases indicated that some of the typical purchases for themselves were sweets and snacks, paying off bills, and books. Typical purchases for other people were alcoholic beverages, sweets, and other food items. Two independent coders evaluated partici- pants’ purchases on a scale ranging from 1 (mostly bene- fiting themselves) to 5 (mostly benefiting other people). The coders exhibited a high level of agreement (α = .95), and so I averaged their evaluations. The results confirmed that participants’ purchases in the prosocial condition were more likely to benefit others (M  =  4.76, SD  =  .50) Sense of Self-Worth Perceptions of Meaning in Life Spending Money on Other People vs. Self β = .66 SE = .30 p = .029 β = .37 SE = .12 p = .004 Excluding Self-Worth, β = .75, SE = .30, p = .015 Including Self-Worth, β = .54, SE = .30, p = .073 Figure 1. The mediating role of self-worth in the effect of prosocial behavior on perceptions of meaning in life in study 3. D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 THE JOURNAL OF POSITIVE PSyCHOLOGy 5 persons, and whether they felt it increased their self-es- teem (α = .704). Social connection Participants evaluated whether the way they spent the $5.00 made them feel closer to other people, whether it helped them increase their sense of belonging to their community, and whether it helped them feel that they were an important part of their community (α = .95). Sense of personal control Participants evaluated whether the way they spent the $5.00 made them feel like they had control of how life unfolded, and whether it gave them a sense of control over the things they wanted to accomplish in life (α = .78). Affirmation of values Participants evaluated whether the way they spent the $5.00 was with consistent with their moral values, and whether it seemed morally right (α = .94). Meaning in Life For the main dependent variable, participants evalu- ated whether they spent the $5.00 in a meaningful way, whether they could easily think of more meaningful ways to spend the $5.00 they were given (reverse-coded), and whether the way they spent the $5.00 contributed to their sense of meaning in life in general (α = .78). Finally, as a manipulation check, participants were asked on a five-point scale how closely they followed the spending instructions they were given (1 = not at all; 5 = completely). Results Manipulation checks The manipulation succeeded. Fully 57 out of the 61 par- ticipants (93%) indicated at least ‘4’ or ‘5’ in answering the question of how closely they followed the spending instructions (M = 4.51, SD = .65). Two independent coders evaluated participants’ purchases on a scale ranging from 1 (mostly benefiting themselves) to 5 (mostly benefiting other people). The coders exhibited a high level of agree- ment (α  =  .98), and so I averaged their evaluations. The results confirmed that participants’ purchases in the proso- cial condition were more likely to benefit others (M = 4.29, SD = 1.11) than purchases in the self-interested condition (M = 1.39, SD = .96), t (59) = 10.99, p < .001, d = 2.86. self-worth, social connection to others, a sense of personal control, and affirmation of moral values (Baumeister, 1991; Baumeister & Vohs, 2002). Like Study 2, participants were instructed either to spend money on themselves or to spend money on other people. Unlike Study 2, here partic- ipants also evaluated each of these potential mechanisms in addition to reporting their sense that life is meaning- ful. Finally, because previous research finds that spend- ing money on others can increase momentary happiness (Dunn et al., 2008), Study 3 also controlled for participants’ happiness after they spent money on themselves or on other people. Method Participants were recruited in a lab in a Midwestern uni- versity (N = 61; 50.8% women; Mage = 19.74, SDage = 2.41). As in Study 2, each participant was given $5.00 in cash and randomly assigned to spend it either on other people (in the form of a gift for someone else or a donation to a char- ity) or on themselves (in the form of a gift for themselves or another personal expense). After leaving the lab, par- ticipants were emailed a follow-up survey that contained the dependent measures and the mediators, and had until 11:00 pm that night to spend the money as instructed and complete the follow-up survey. The follow-up survey first asked participants to describe in a few sentences how they spent the $5.00 given to them. Then, participants assessed their sense of self-worth, social connection to others, sense of personal control, affirma- tion of values, and their happiness. These variables were presented in random order. After completing all of these variables, participants rated the main dependent variable, namely their sense of meaning in life. Happiness was assessed using the same measures used in previous research (Dunn et al., 2008), specifically a sin- gle-item measure (‘Do you feel happy, in general?’ rated on a 1–5 scale) and the Positive and Negative Affect Schedule (PANAS; Watson, Clark, & Tellegen, 1988). The PANAS con- tains 10 positive emotions (α = .87) and 10 negative emo- tions (α = .85), which were analyzed separately, consistent with previous research. For all of the other measures, participants rated their level of agreement with a number of relevant statements on identical scales ranging from 1 (absolutely disagree) to 7 (absolutely agree) with the midpoint of 4 (neither agree nor disagree). Below are detailed descriptions of these measures: Self-worth Participants evaluated whether the way they spent the $5.00 made them feel that they are good and worthy D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 6 N. KLEIN mediators were not statistically reliable (95% CIs [−.126, .282] and [−.040, .128], respectively). Furthermore, after including self-worth, the effect of prosocial behavior on meaningfulness was reduced to non-significance, ß = .54, SE = .30, t = 1.83, p = .073. These results suggest that proso- cial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life par- tially through increasing perceptions of self-worth. General discussion A nationally representative sample and two experiments find that prosocial behavior increases perceptions of meaning in life. Helping other people, whether through volunteering or spending money on others, was associ- ated with a greater sense of purpose and meaning. Study 3 suggests that at least part of the effect of helping on meaningfulness lies in increased self-worth – participants who spent money to benefit other people felt higher per- sonal worth and self-esteem, which in turn increased their sense that life is meaningful. The present results appear to coincide with well-known aphorisms suggesting that to find meaning in life, one must be motivated by something ‘greater’ than oneself. In philosophy, Ralph Waldo Emerson is quoted as saying that ‘the purpose of life is not to be happy’, but rather ‘it is to be useful’ to others (Brown, 2000). In literature, Charles Dickens (1864) echoes a similar sentiment through the main character in the novel Our Mutual Friend: ‘no one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of it for anyone else’. In religion, the Bible suggests an association between prosociality and meaning in life (e.g. Galatians, 5:13–14) and Buddhism promotes benevolence (mettā), sympathy (muditā), and compassion (karuṇā) as essential qualities necessary for enlightenment. The conventional wisdom that meaning is generated by being useful to other people appears to have solid empirical foundations. Implications and extensions Prosocial behavior is important partly because it creates the cooperation and trust necessary to sustain communi- ties and societies (Fehr & Schmidt, 1999; Hamilton, 1964; Meaning in life The effect of prosocial behavior on meaningfulness replicated. Spending money on other people increased perceptions of meaning (M = 3.95, SD = 1.06) compared to spending money on oneself (M  =  3.21, SD  =  1.24), t (59) = 2.51, p = .015, d = .65. This result held when enter- ing participants’ happiness as a covariate using either the PANAS positive emotions or the single-item measure of general happiness or both, Fs > 4.29, ps < .043. Mediation To establish mediation, the independent variable must have a statistically reliable effect on the proposed media- tor. Therefore, to simplify the subsequent mediation anal- ysis, I first tested whether prosocial behavior had an effect on each of the proposed mediators. If prosocial behavior did not change a mediator, I excluded that mediator from the subsequent mediation analysis.1 As Table 2 shows, spending money to benefit other people increased participants’ sense of self-worth and social connection compared to spending money on the self, ts > 2.24, ps < .031, ds > .57. Spending money on oth- ers did not increase participants’ affirmation of values, t (59) = .79, p = .43, d = .21, and directionally and non-signif- icantly decreased participants’ sense of personal control, t (59) = −1.84, p = .070, d = .48. Based on these results, I excluded affirmation of values and personal control from the subsequent mediation analysis.2 Thus, the mediation analysis used spending on others versus the self as the independent variable, perceptions of meaning as the dependent variable, and perceptions of self-worth and social connection as the two proposed mediators (Hayes, 2013; SPSS PROCESS Macro, Model 6; 5,000 iterations). As Figure 1 shows, the total effect of prosocial behav- ior on meaning in life was significant, ß  =  .75, SE  =  .30, p = .015. The mediation path containing self-worth as the sole mediator was statistically reliable because the 95% confidence interval did not contain the 0 point (indirect effect = .19, SE = .15; 95% CI [.011, .635]). In contrast, the mediation paths containing either social connection as the sole mediator or social connection and self-worth as joint Table 2. The effects of prosocial behavior on determinants of meaning in study 3. note: standard deviations are in parentheses. Within rows, different subscripts represent means that differ at p < .05. Variable Spending money on other people Spending money on self self-worth 4.53 (1.02) a 3.88 (1.26) b social connection 4.18 (1.32) a 3.28 (1.63) b affirmation of values 5.55 (1.21) a 5.28 (1.45) a Personal control 3.67 (1.38) a 4.30 (1.27) a happiness (Panas positive emotions) 2.97 (.80) a 2.78 (.77) a sadness (Panas negative emotions) 1.97 (.61) a 2.02 (.80) a general happiness (one-item measure) 3.62 (.90) a 3.91 (.82) a       Meaning in life 3.95 (1.06)a 3.21 (1.24) b D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 THE JOURNAL OF POSITIVE PSyCHOLOGy 7 social connection. 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The Quarterly Journal of Economics, 114, 817–868. Henrich et al., 2011; Trivers, 1971). These far-reaching positive consequences underlie the widespread interest in the incentives people have for helping one another. Leading accounts of how helping is incentivized generally emphasize the role of recipients’ and observers’ favorable responses to prosocial actors, suggesting that reputa- tional concerns motivate prosocial behavior (Barclay, 2004; Nowak & Sigmund, 2005; Rockenbach & Milinski, 2006). The present study joins other studies in highlighting a self-sustaining quality to prosocial behavior, in that other people’s reciprocity need not be the only incentive for helping (Dunn et al., 2008; Thoits & Hewitt, 2001). The psy- chological benefits of prosocial behavior create incentives for helping that do not depend on others’ reciprocity. Although self-worth mediates the effect of helping on meaningfulness, this phenomenon may be multiply deter- mined and there may be additional, more basic, cogni- tive mechanisms responsible for it. Consulting existing research allows for speculation about what these basic cognitive processes might be. Recent research finds that mental simulation is broadly associated with higher per- ceptions of meaningfulness (Waytz et al., 2015). For exam- ple, one study finds that thinking about how important life events might never have occurred increases percep- tions of meaningfulness (Kray et al., 2010). Helping other people might trigger processes of mental simulation of these other people’s mental states and of the positive consequences of helpers’ own actions. In contrast, self-in- terested actions may be less likely to trigger simulation of others’ mental states. Testing whether helping affects mental simulation – and in turn, meaningfulness – may be a productive avenue for future research. Deeper understanding of the relationship between helping and meaningfulness has not only theoretical impli- cations, but also applied ones. Helping is associated with more tight-knit and trusting communities (Bowles & Gintis, 2003; Henrich et al., 2011). Believing that one’s life is mean- ingful is associated with a number of important markers of psychological health, including lower risk of depression and suicide, and better physical health (Harlow, Newcomb, & Bentler, 1986; Taylor et al., 2000). Understanding how and when helping increases meaningfulness can therefore aid researchers understand how to promote greater personal as well as societal well-being. Notes 1. Including all of the four mediators, as well as happiness, in a mediation analysis did not materially affect the results reported in the main text. 2. Because the effect of prosocial behavior on perceptions of personal control was marginal, I also conducted an additional mediation analysis with personal control included as a mediator in addition to self-worth and D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 8 N. KLEIN Leary, M. R. (1999). Making sense of self-esteem. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 8, 32–35. Leary, M. R., & Baumeister, R. F. (2000). The nature and function of self-esteem: Sociometer theory. In M. P. Zanna (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 32, pp. 1–62). San Diego, CA: Academic Press. Lee, F. (1997). When the going gets tough, do the tough ask for help? Help seeking and power motivation in organizations. Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, 72, 336–363. Nowak, M. A., & Sigmund, K. (2005). Evolution of indirect reciprocity. Nature, 437, 1291–1298. Rockenbach, B., & Milinski, M. (2006). The efficient interaction of indirect reciprocity and costly punishment. Nature, 444, 718–723. Routledge, C., Sedikides, C., Wildschut, T., & Juhl, J. (2013). Finding meaning in the past: Nostalgia as an existential resource. In K. D. Markman, T. Proulx, & M. Lindberg (Eds.), The psychology of meaning (pp. 297–316). Washington, DC: American Psychology Association. Stavrova, O., & Luhmann, M. (2016). Social connectedness as a source and consequence of meaning in life. The Journal of Positive Psychology, 11, 470–479. Steger, M. F., Frazier, P., Oishi, S., & Kaler, M. (2006). The meaning in life questionnaire: Assessing the presence of and search for meaning in life. Journal of Counseling Psychology, 53, 80–93. Steger, M. F., Kashdan, T. B., Sullivan, B. A., & Lorentz, D. (2008). Understanding the search for meaning in life: Personality,  cognitive style, and the dynamic between seeking and experiencing meaning. Journal of Personality, 76, 199–228. Taylor, S. E., Kemeny, M. E., Reed, G. M., Bower, J. E., & Gruenewald, T. L. (2000). Psychological resources, positive illusions, and health. American Psychologist, 55, 99–109. Thoits, P. A., & Hewitt, L. N. (2001). Volunteer work and well- being. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 42, 115–131. Trivers, R. L. (1971). The evolution of reciprocal altruism. The Quarterly Review of Biology, 46, 35–57. Wade-Benzoni, K. A., & Tost, L. P. (2009). The egoism and altruism of intergenerational behavior. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 13, 165–193. Watson, D., Clark, L. A., & Tellegen, A. (1988). Development and validation of brief measures of positive and negative affect: The PANAS scales. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 54, 1063–1070. Waytz, A., Hershfield, H. E., & Tamir, D. I. (2015). Mental simulation and meaning in life. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 108, 336–355. Weinstein, N., & Ryan, R. M. (2010). When helping helps: Autonomous motivation for prosocial behavior and its influence on well-being for the helper and recipient. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 98, 222–244. Wheeler, J. A., Gorey, K. M., & Greenblatt, B. (1998). The beneficial effects of volunteering for older volunteers and the people they serve: A meta-analysis. The International Journal of Aging and Human Development, 47, 69–79. Zaki, J. & Mitchell, J. P. (2011). Equitable decision making is associated with neural markers of intrinsic value. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States, 108, 19761–19766. Feldman, D. B., & Snyder, C. R. (2005). Hope and the meaningful life: Theoretical and empirical associations between goal– directed thinking and life meaning. Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology, 24, 401–421. Flynn, F. J. (2003). How much should i give and how often? The effects of generosity and frequency of favor exchange on social status and productivity. Academy of Management Journal, 46, 539–553. Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R. E., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91, 1123–1137. Grant, A. M., & Gino, F. (2010). A little thanks goes a long way: Explaining why gratitude expressions motivate prosocial behavior. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 98, 946–955. Gray, K., Ward, A., & Norton, M. I. (2014). Paying it forward: Generalized reciprocity and the limits of generosity. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 143, 247–254. Hamilton, W. D. (1964). The genetical evolution of social behaviour. Journal of Theoretical Biology, 7, 1–16. Harlow, L. L., Newcomb, M. D., & Bentler, P. M. (1986). Depression, self-derogation, substance use, and suicide ideation: Lack of purpose in life as a mediational factor. Journal of Clinical Psychology, 42, 5–21. Hayes, A. F. (2013). Introduction to mediation, moderation, and conditional process analysis: A regression based approach. New york: The Guilford Press. Heintzelman, S. J., & King, L. A. (2014a). (The feeling of ) meaning- as-information. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 18, 153–167. Heintzelman, S. J., & King, L. A. (2014b). Life is pretty meaningful. American Psychologist, 69, 561–574. Henrich, J., Ensminger, J., McElreath, R., Barr, A., Barrett, C., Bolyanatz, A., … Ziker, J. (2011). Markets, religion, community size, and the evolution of fairness and punishment. Science, 327, 1480–1484. King, L. A., Hicks, J. A., & Abdelkhalik, J. (2009). Death, life, scarcity, and value: An alternative perspective on the meaning of death. Psychological Science, 20, 1459–1462. Klein, N., & Epley, N. (2014). The topography of generosity: Asymmetric evaluations of prosocial actions. Journal of Experimental Psychology: General, 143, 2366–2379. Klein, N., Grossman, I., Uskul, A. K., Kraus, A. A., & Epley, N. (2015). It pays to be nice, but not really nice: Asymmetric reputations from prosociality across 7 countries. Judgment and Decision Making, 10, 355–364. Krause, N. (2009). Meaning in life and mortality. The Journals of Gerontology Series B, Psychological Sciences and Social Sciences, 64, 517–527. Kray, L. J., George, L. G., Liljenquist, K. A., Galinsky, A. D., Tetlock, P. E., & Roese, N. J. (2010). From what might have been to what must have been: Counterfactual thinking creates meaning. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 98, 106–118. Lambert, N. M., Stillman, T. F., Hicks, J. A., Kamble, S., Baumeister, R. F., & Fincham, F. D. (2013). To Belong Is to Matter: Sense of Belonging Enhances Meaning in Life. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 39, 1418–1427. Landau, M. J., Kosloff, S., & Schmeichel, B. J. (2011). Imbuing everyday actions with meaning in response to existential threat. Self and Identity, 10, 64–76. D ow nl oa de d by [ N ad av K le in ] at 0 7: 15 1 8 Ju ly 2 01 6 Abstract The psychological benefits of helping others Study 1: nationally representative sample Method Results Study 2: manipulating prosocial and self-interested behavior Method Results Manipulation checks Presence of meaning in life Search for meaning in life Study 3: mechanisms underlying increased meaning Method Self-worth Social connection Sense of personal control Affirmation of values Meaning in Life Results Manipulation checks Meaning in life Mediation General discussion Implications and extensions Notes Disclosure statement References 
work_i6aw3oitkfhkfeufrw6yivblam	----	My greatest mistake True confessions In October Minerva asked readers to submit their tales of clinical, career, or other mistakes, for publication in this issue. First to respond were Dave Sackett and Richard Smith, followed by others, some of whose confessions are printed below. You can see all the responses and add your own contribution on bmj.com (http://bmj.bmjjournals.com/cgi/content/full/329/7474/DC3) Skoda’s fool David Sackett As the solo intern in charge of a Chicago emergency room one August night in 1960, I was grappling with three dozen former passengers (by then, aspiring per- sonal injury claimants) of a city bus involved in a minor collision. Most had demanded x rays in hope of fracture, and groaned to potential witnesses as they limped about the emergency room. Into this cacophony descended a thirty-ish scrub woman who said she’d developed a non-productive cough and increasing shortness of breath over the previous two weeks. She wouldn’t wait for blood work or a chest film, so I conducted a quick exam in a noisy cubicle. All I found were hyper-resonance to percussion over her upper lung fields and an evanes- cent wheeze. I prescribed the contemporaneous asthma regimen, arranged a follow up appointment in the medical clinic, and promptly forgot about her . . . . . . until she was presented at grand medical rounds six weeks later as an interesting patient whose lymphoma had presented as bilateral pleural effusions. When she described being told by a doctor in the emergency room that she had asthma, the audience snickered in derision, I froze in mortification, and the physician in chief did three remarkable things: he didn’t call me out of the audience to chastise me before my peers and betters; he took me aside after the round, both to discuss my error and to teach me about “Skodatic resonance” above pleural effusions; and he didn’t hold my dumb mistake against me, but became my mentor during my first residency in internal medicine. Competing interests: See bmj.com A fool such as I Richard Smith Making mistakes is an essential part of being human. Ralph Waldo Emerson said: “All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make, the better.” He might have written: “All life is mistakes. The more mistakes you make, the better.” Mistakes are great teachers, but they also allow us to get through the day. Try to spend a day without making a mistake, and you’ll do nothing. So I find it hard as I survey 52 years of mistakes to pick my biggest. I’m spoilt for choice. But since this is a medical journal I think back more than a quarter of a century to a man in his 50s who was admitted to the ward on which I worked. He was a true cre- tin with congenital hypothyroidism. He had pneumonia and was in respiratory failure. Should we treat him? All we knew about him was that he lived with his elderly mother. After much debate—a debate, in retrospect, that was wholly uninformed by ethical analysis—we decided that we wouldn’t. He was tucked up in bed, and I went home. When I arrived the next morning he was sitting up in bed, reading a comic, and surrounded by visitors. He was, I discovered, the most popular person in his village. His mother was devoted to him, and I soon came to like him. After a few days he went home. This was a mistake that had wholly positive outcomes. The patient did well—and might not have done if we’d tried some heroic treatment. I learnt about the severe limitations of medicine and that I was a fool. Only unthinking fools could have decided to leave a man to die without learning more about him and talk- ing directly to his relatives. I couldn’t claim now not to be a fool, but that mistake made me a wiser fool. Competing interests: None declared. Trout Research and Education Centre at Irish Lake, Canada D L Sackett director sackett@bmts.com BMJ 2004;329:1494-6 UnitedHealth Europe, London SW1P 1SB Richard Smith chief executive richardswsmith@ yahoo.co.uk to p fo to .c o .u k 1494 BMJ VOLUME 329 18-25 DECEMBER 2004 bmj.com o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.3 2 9 .7 4 8 0 .1 4 9 4 o n 1 6 D e ce m b e r 2 0 0 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/ Thanks to the experienced patient Milind M Deshpande It was my first week in the postgraduate MS(Ortho) course. I had already seen my senior apply plaster of Paris slabs to injured limbs and was overconfident of doing the act independently. I was sent to the casualty on my first weekend to splint an injured arm. As I started applying the plaster of Paris slab, the patient pointed out that previously he had an injury to the other arm and a similar plaster was applied, but over a cotton padding and not over the bare limb. I immediately realised my mistake and felt so ashamedabout my overconfidence— but I told the patient that if he was more comfortable with a cotton padding inside I would definitely apply it, and I quickly removed the plaster that was on his arm, cleaned it up, and reapplied the slab over a cotton padding. The experienced patient had taught me my first lesson over my first weekend, or else it might have been the last weekend for me and my senior. Competing interests: None declared. The fog of expectation Edwin P Kirk The demented elderly man arrived in the emergency department with a note from his nursing home: “cough and shortness of breath worsening over the past 7 days.” He had a low grade fever but did not seem too unwell, and my examination revealed only some crepitations at the base of the right lung. Chest infection, I thought, and the x ray did show some patchy opacification in the right lower lobe. I started some antibiotics and sent him to the ward. A couple of hours later, the medical registrar phoned me and gently informed me that the opacities I had seen were, in fact, the entire lung—collapsed as a result of the huge pneumotho- rax which ought to have been impossible to miss. One Saturday night a few weeks later, I found myself the only doctor on an island, home to an Aboriginal community. A 14 year old girl, 32 weeks pregnant, a shy and diffident historian, attended the island’s hospital complaining of lower abdominal pain. She too had a low grade fever. I suspected urinary tractinfection, and a very cloudy urine specimen was positive for blood and protein. I sent her away with antibiotics. Fortunately for us both, and very fortunately for her baby, she re-presented soon afterwards, giving me the chance to make the correct diagnosis (labour) in time for a helicopter to take her to someone more qualified than I to manage the footling breech delivery of a premature baby. The urine had been cloudy because it was full of vernix. I was young, inexperienced, and overconfident. In each case, lacking a clear history, I made things harder for myself by doing an inadequate examination. But the biggest mistake, common to both of these stories, was of leaping to a conclusion early and then seeing what I expected to see. Expectations can fog your vision. It’s best to wait until all the evidence is in before attempting a synthesis. Competing interests: None declared. An easy operation gone wrong Nayan D Swadia I was operating on a 4 year old girl with unilateral inguinal hernia. Hernia is rare in girls and the inguinal variety is rarer still. In female inguinal hernia the inguinal canal contains only round ligament, which can be sacrificed, and unlike in males, there are no has- sles of dissecting cord structures meticulously. I made an inguinal incision and deepened till the external oblique aponeurosis, then I opened the inguinal canal, dissected the round ligament, and hooked it up on my little finger. I freed the hernia sac, ligated it, and excised at its highest point. Next, I placed two haemostats slightly apart on the round ligament, intending to excise a segment of the ligament so that the inguinal canal could be completely obliterated. When I cut at one end of the segment, to my utter hor- ror, the “ligament” showed a lumen. I had hooked up the femoral artery instead of the ligament, applied haemostats, and gone ahead and cut it. Disaster. What had gone wrong? Rather than opening the inguinal canal, I had incised the inguinal ligament: in children the structures are quite close. This had exposed the femoral artery, which I had hooked up onmy little finger, mistaking it for the round ligament. Once it was hooked and hence stretched, the pulsations were either absent or not appreciated. As I had done my residency in the cardiovascular unit, I applied bulldog clamps at the two cut ends, removed the haemostats, andset about suturing the vessel. Unfortunately, the distalbulldog clamp slipped and the vessel retracted into the thigh. Another disaster. With great difficulty, the vessel was found and the anastomosis performed, but the pulsations did not appear in the limb. I panicked and requested help from a cardiovascular surgeon. He made a T incision into the thigh, and we saw that I had inadvertently anastomosed the profunda femoris branch of the femoral artery with the proximal cut end of the femoral artery. I had sectioned the femoral artery at the level of origin of the profunda, and so there were two cut ends distally. Ultimately, all anastomoses were successfully done and the limb was salvaged. Fifteen years later the girl is a beautiful young lady who stands tall on her own two feet and continues to call me her living god. And that ill-fitting bulldog clamp still adorns my consulting room table to remind me how clay-footed her god is. What I had I learnt was (to paraphrase Hippocra- tes) that no surgery is too light to be casual about nor too severe to be despaired of, and it is always beneficial to all to call in a second opinion in times of distress. Competing interests: None declared. Hubli, India 580031 Milind M Deshpande consulting orthosurgeon milinddeshpande@ sancharnet.in Dept of Medical Genetics, Sydney Children’s Hospital, Randwick NSW 2031 Edwin P Kirk staff specialist kirked@ sesahs.nsw.gov.au Swadia Institute of Minimally Invasive Therapy, Police Ground Road, Baroda, India-390 001 Nayan D Swadia private practising surgeon swadias@ hotmail.com My greatest mistake 1495BMJ VOLUME 329 18-25 DECEMBER 2004 bmj.com o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.3 2 9 .7 4 8 0 .1 4 9 4 o n 1 6 D e ce m b e r 2 0 0 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/ A call I never made Anil Pandit When I was working as a resident in Patan Hospital, Kathmandu, on one busy on-call day, I was called by the emergency room resident to see a patient with pos- sible myocardial infarction. The patient was being treated for congestive heart disease and had fainted that morning. His vital signs were stable and an electrocardiogram showed ST segment elevation and widened QRS complex, which were new findings. I made a quick diagnosis of acute myocardial infarction while chemistries were pending. I called an intensive care resident to find out if any beds could be arranged, but no beds were available. I decided to transfer the patient to the Heart Centre in the other side of the town. I rang the Heart Centre and made arrangements and finally transferred him, escorted by an intern. Later the blood chemistries came back. He had potas- sium levels of 6.7 mmol. The typical ECG findings were due to hyperkalaemia, probably not to myocardial infarction. I sent the report with the patient and forgot about him that day, as I was very busy. Later my assistant informed me that the patient I had referred had died of an arrhythmia. The Heart Centre had told my assistant about the patient’s death. He said only that I could have telephoned the centre about the hyperkalaemia. Then he said no more and went away. That was enough for me. A gush of electric current passed from my head to my feet; I started sweating and my heart started racing: I had made a serious blunder; what kind of doctor was I? When it came to transferring the responsibility of the patient care from my head to others, I was doing all I could. I was making phone calls, wherever I could. But when it came to real patient care I was so indifferent. I acted as if once the patient had left the hospital, it was not my duty. I told myself that my attitude, knowledge, and skill cost a patient’s life and I was deficient in all those qualities that a doctor should have. The incident taught me the meaning of that most talked about topic, the doctor-patient relationship. The doctor-patient relationship doesn’t end when the patient leaves the physical boundaries of our care. Most of the time, it haunts me that if I had given a call, the patient’s life could have been saved. These thoughts lead to a concept of universal doctor and universal patient, analo- gous to health and disease respectively. There are no individual doctors or individual patients. Because I iden- tified myself as a different doctor from those in the other hospital, I thought the patient was no longer my respon- sibility: there was somebody else to look after him. Had I thought that he was just a patient and I was just a doctor, wherever he was and whoever was treating him, this incident would have been avoided. Competing interests: None declared. No time to talk Kamran Abbasi Think carefully enough and mistakes come flooding to mind—a missed pneumothorax, an unnecessary resus- citation, and a pacing wire that tickled a tricuspid— memories of follies that influence individual practice more than they ultimately affect patient outcomes. Yet, one memory still haunts me. I was a junior doctor in a busy specialty, rushing to manage patients and pass exams. My peers were coping with the same competing demands in their own firms and in their own ways. Some responded with machismo, their spir- its unbowed; some by internalising their pain; and oth- ers with an equal calm. One colleague stood out. He was from overseas and a loner, but we struck up a friendship over pizzas, televised football, and black humour in the doctors’ mess—the lifelines of a night on call. In six month posts these friendships ebb and flow, from endless hours in the mess on a quiet night to barely an acknowledgment when busy. And we got busier and we talked less. One day his firm had just swept through our ward, but he hung back, wanting to begin a conversation it seemed, a conversation I had no time for. I moved on, with a promise to talk later. The next day he wasn’t at work. He was still in his room—directly across the cor- ridor from mine—an insulin syringe lying next to his dead body. The next day, his mother flew in to reclaim her son. But how must he have suffered—alone, miser- able, a long way from home, in an endless and thankless job, patients too ill to be grateful, colleagues too wrapped up in themselves to care. Would it have a made a difference if I had talked? My greatest mistake was not to find out. As the royal colleges strive for a new definition of medical professionalism, what will we do to ensure that profes- sionalism extends to consideration for our colleagues? Competing interests: KA is acting editor of the BMJ and responsible for its content. Festive fare and Christmas competition Eat healthily, eat well To complement the article on the Polymeal (p 1447), bmj.com carries Raymond Blanc’s recipes for one such repast—watercress soup, grilled mackerel with a tagine of winter root vegetables, and chocolate mousse. To fulfil all the Polymeal criteria, add some nuts before or after the meal, and a glass of wine during it. And if these inspire you to culinary creation, submit your recipes to our Christmas competition—details are at the start of the journal, on the Editor’s Choice page. Kathmandu, Nepal Anil Pandit physician anilpanditrules@ hotmail.com BMJ, London WC1H 9JR Kamran Abbasi acting editor kabbasi@bmj.com My greatest mistake 1496 BMJ VOLUME 329 18-25 DECEMBER 2004 bmj.com o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.3 2 9 .7 4 8 0 .1 4 9 4 o n 1 6 D e ce m b e r 2 0 0 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/ 
work_iaom6bc3brdwfm4b6ipkextzfq	----	POSTERMINARIES Materials by Accident The stories of accidental discoveries are many, and they are probably all sig- nificantly embellished in the great tradi- tion of urban (or scientific) mythology. While some are fairly well document- ed, others only survive as acknowledged myths, the füll story having been lost in the passage of thousands of years. Glass is supposed to have been discovered as a result of a camp-fire on a sandy M e d i t e r r a n e a n beach, and copper- smelting by an attempt to attach a deco- rative piece of malachite to a clay pot before firing it in some Sumerian kiln. Who knows? It is almost certain, though, that some kind of accident led to these discoveries. This key method of materials devel- opment has not been superseded in the modern age. We are all taught of Harry Brearley's accidental discovery of stain- less steel as part of a war effort in 1913. He threw out a sample of an iron alloy that failed to live up to his hopes for a new gun-barrel material, and later noticed its failure to rust among all of the other alloys on the scrap-heap. This discovery solidified the reign of his home town, Sheffield, as the high tem- ple of specialty steel production in the United Kingdom. If we are to believe all of the stories— some of which are promulgated by the owners of the resulting patents—then nylon, Polyethylene, lexan®, teflon®, and the process of rubber vulcanization were all discovered by accident. According to General Electric's adver- tising, the discovery of lexan® leaned heavily upon the assistance of the labo- ratory cat, which demonstrated the strength of the material by knocking a beaker of it to the floor, shattering the glass beaker but leaving the solidified, glassily clear and mechanically resilient lexan, with an embedded stirrer so it looked like some bizarre lollipop. Think what might have been missed if GE had instead developed and used the leg- endary "better mousetrap" and dis- pensed with the cat.+ The English like to teil stories that +"If a man...build[s] a better mousetrap than his neighbor, tho' he build[s] his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door" (Ralph Waldo Emerson). reflect badly upon the French, so in British universities the story of the dis­ covery of a reliable technique for steel extrusion is frequently related in lec- tures on materials processing. It seems that the problem was causing great frustration to a certain French. Dejec- tedly, he is supposed to have taken comfort in a bottle of wine, which was hurled, once emptied, into the extrusion press in his lab. The next test-run worked near-perfectly, and to this day the extrusion of steel is accomplished using a lubricant with a composition very close to that of ordinary bottle- glass, which has just the right viscosity and wetting properties at the extrusion temperature. The name of the Sejournet Process celebrates its s u p p o s e d l y moody discoverer. Aluminum-copper alloys have been AluiruTium-copper alloys have been the subject of two well-documented accidental discoveries, which must be a record. the subject of two well-documented accidental discoveries, which must be a record. First, the strain-aging process was discovered by Wilm in 1908. Then the resistance of diese alloys to electro- migration damage in microcircuits was discovered by accident in a series of experiments at IBM. A massive effort to improve the electromigration resistance of pure alurninum interconnects called into Service "acres" of electron-beam evaporators and testing units to investi- gate the effects of process variables, but the material from one of the evapora­ tors always displayed much better results than any other—by an order of magnitude or more. The electron beam in this particular unit was eventually round to be misaligned and was hitting both the alurninum charge and the water-cooled copper crucible that con- tained it, allowing a dilute aluminum- copper alloy to be formed instead of the intended pure alurninum test struc- tures. Intense follow-up experimenta- tion in h u n d r e d s of labs has barely improved upon that original accidental result without which we would not be able to make high-speed, high-density microcircuits like the ones in the Com­ puter that I am typing on. It was another alurninum alloy (with manganese, iron, or chromium) that produced the startling discovery of quasicrystals in 1984. This must have looked, at first, like a disappointing result of an attempt to form a metallic glass by rapid solidification. In matters of observational scienc said Pierre Curie (another accid' prone French scientist), fortune fav prepared mind; so it is import?r ot only to have accidents, but alsr .av the ability to recognize the or rtu ties that they present. Of cou cannot have these kinds of accid unless you do some experiments. Tr I might, I cannot uncover any s a lucky accidents that have occurred dur- ing the process of a theoretical investi- gation or a Computer Simulation—for obvious reasons, really: These investiga- tions only produce on the basis of what goes into them. Garbage in-garbage out is the only kind of "accident" we can expect from this kind of research. This is not to say that the research is without value, of course; only that it does not provide very much opportunity for ser- endipitous results. Long live experimenters—especially the kind who are willing to try "dumb" ideas and make "stupid mistakes." While others cautiously predict what new materials developments we might see in the Coming millennium, I confi- dently guarantee that more major new materials, materials classes, materials processes, and materials properties will be discovered by accident in the lab than by design in the Computer—at least if experimental research st: 11 attracts sufficient funding in an age of supercomputing grand challenges and Virtual reality. If your toe catches some- thing in a Virtual environment, you don't trip. Let's hear it for real rea'.y, and life's little stumbles, too. They are trying to teil you something, if you have the toes to feel them, and the ears to hear what your toes are telling you. ALEXKING 88 MRS BULLETIN/JANUAP » 0 0 . https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400065155 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/S0883769400065155 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms 
work_ibf5jlu635brxl3npe3orxiqfy	----	JSP 20-2 fm.indd Journal of Speculative Philosophy, Vol. 20, No. 2, 2006. Copyright © 2006 The Pennsylvania State University, University Park, PA. 106 Pragmatism as a Philosophy of Hope: Emerson, James, Dewey, Rorty COLIN KOOPMAN McMaster University We must not worry how few we are and fall from each other More than language can express Hope for the artist in America & etc —Susan Howe, “Articulation of Sound Forms in Time” Meliorism, or philosophical hopefulness, has long been acknowledged to be a genuine infl uence on pragmatist philosophy. In recent years there has been a surge of interest in this idea as an increasing number of books and articles are calling attention to the role that hope plays in the pragmatist way of thinking.1 But despite this increase of interest in pragmatist meliorism and the near universal acknowl- edgment that meliorism is somehow central to pragmatism, it remains to be spelled out exactly how meliorism contributes to pragmatism. I here undertake the project of explicating the philosophical signifi cance of pragmatist meliorism. I understand pragmatism, and fi nd it at its best, as a philosophical way of taking hope seriously. Pragmatism develops the philosophical resources of hope. One implication is that traditional philosophical categories look different when seen pragmatically, where they are infl ected with, and interpreted through, hopeful- ness. It is thus that traditional philosophical concepts—such as truth—are widely understood to be severely reconstructed by pragmatism. Yet the motivations for, and philosophical signifi cance of, these reconstructions remain obscure so long as the meliorism at the heart of pragmatism is left unexplained. The purpose of this article is to show both that pragmatism is plausibly understood as hopeful philosophy and that this philosophical call to hopefulness is a good successor to the long-standing quests for certainty that have dominated philosophy throughout modernity. PSJ 107PRAGMATISM AS A PHILOSOPHY OF HOPE Pragmatist Meliorism, Pluralism, and Humanism Hopefulness, which in its more philosophically robust moments can be called meliorism, combines pluralism and humanism, two central themes in the prag- matist vision. Pluralism is the thesis that the realities we inhabit are many. As James put it, “the world we live in exists diffuse and distributed” (1907, 126). There is no one way that things are. The world is dynamic and shifting. Pluralism takes contingency seriously by applying it to reality itself. The result is that things could always be different than they happen to be. The world is thus a pluriverse, not a universe. A corollary of pluralism, humanism is the thesis that we humans make defi nitive contributions to this pluriverse. Again in James’s words the idea is that “the world stands really malleable, waiting to receive its fi nal touches at our hands. . . . Man engenders truths upon it” (123). What reality is depends on our active contributions, interests, and purposes. Meliorism, holding together pluralism with humanism, is the thesis that we are capable of creating better worlds and selves. Pluralism says that better futures are possible, humanism that possibilities are often enough decided by human energies, and meliorism that better futures are made real by our effort. Meliorism, then, is best seen as humanism and pluralism combined and in con- fi dent mood. Melioristic confi dence offers a genuine alternative to both pessi- mism and optimism. These two moods, almost universally proffered by modern philosophers, share a common assumption that progress or decline is inevitable. Meliorism, on the other hand, focuses on what we can do to hasten our progress and mitigate our decline. As such, meliorism resonates with the central ethical impulse at the heart of pragmatism: democracy. Democracy is the simple idea that political and ethi- cal progress hinges on nothing more than persons, their values, and their actions. Embracing what James called “the strenuous life,” democracy, like pragmatism, refuses reliance on all that is not of us: “The pragmatism . . . I defend has to fall back on a certain ultimate hardihood, a certain willingness to live without assur- ances or guarantees” (1906, 124). Meliorism is the name for that hardihood and willingness. It is tempting, then, to see pragmatism as developing the philosophi- cal consequences of meliorism, while understanding democracy as developing its political and ethical consequences. Truth in Pragmatist Meliorism I would like to elaborate on some of the broader philosophical implications of pragmatist meliorism by considering the role that the concept of truth has played in the writings of four pragmatists I accept as exemplary: William James, John Dewey, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Richard Rorty. 108 COLIN KOOPMAN In reconstructing the meaning that truth has in our lives, these four pragma- tists eschewed the debilitating worship that most philosophers have paid to truth. Writes James, “The Truth: what a perfect idol of the rationalistic mind!” (1907, 115). James’s reconstruction of truth thus broke from the worn-down idea that possession of the truth places us in harmony with the way the world itself really is. This assumption renders us impotent because it credits an optimism regarding truth’s emancipating power, an optimism easily reversed by those skeptical of our qualifi cation for possession of truth. The common assumption of optimists and pessimists alike is that freedom is truth’s consequence. This thesis renders superfl uous any effort in experimentation. Pragmatism refocuses attention on the possibilities of our efforts in holding that the truth does not make us free. James’s concept of truth is fl uid with his pluralism, humanism, and melior- ism. In outlining “Pragmatism’s Conception of Truth,” he clears out of the way the intellectualist assumption that truth is “an inert static relation” before clearly stating the thesis he defends: “The truth of an idea is not a stagnant property inherent in it. Truth happens to an idea. It becomes true, is made true by events” (97). Truths are shifting and plural. Beginning with this pluralism, James goes on to describe truth in terms of a belief’s capacity to work. Truth, on this view, names our accomplishments. A familiar criticism of pragmatism at this point is that its conception of truth neglects the realities of which our ideas are true.2 Yet James admits the “presence of resisting facts in every actual experience of truth-making” (117). And resistance and assistance are all that reality can, practically, come down to. It is pointless to conceive environmental resistance without human energies capable of being resisted. Likewise, human energies can only work within environments in which they may be effective. Reality resists, but does not transcend, effort. “You see how naturally one comes to the humanistic principle: you can’t weed out the human contribution” (122). Reality is not self-suffi cient because reality, which can only be known as resistance or assistance, requires our energies. We are thus integral to what realities, in the plural, are. This is James’s humanism. James’s pluralism and humanism ultimately lead to meliorism. He writes: “Meliorism treats salvation as neither necessary [as would optimism] nor impos- sible [as would pessimism]. It treats it as a possibility” (137). This is a possibility for which we are “live champions and pledges,” a possibility that consists of “such a mixture of things as will in the fullness of time give us a chance, a gap that we can spring into. . . . Does our act then create the world’s salvation so far as it makes room for itself, so far as it leaps into the gap?” (138). James sees no reason why not—pluralism and humanism have cleared the way for meliorism. Consistent with these views, James thinks of truth in terms of processes though which we free ourselves and so breaks from the traditional assumption that the truth makes us free. He thus abandons many problematic tendencies of the philosophical tradition, most notably the idea that truth is the name of a power that we ought to hook ourselves into. Truth is nothing we can rely on, for it is 109PRAGMATISM AS A PHILOSOPHY OF HOPE not the name of a power extrinsic to human action. Truth, rather, is human action in a potent phase. Truth names our power, our success, our working—contrast this to a concept of truth as an external force bestowing its blessings upon us. Richard Poirier states the idea with clarity: “James, like Emerson, foregoes any supports for the self that are extrinsic to its own workings” (1987, 196).3 Truth gets reinscribed within the circle of human work. This reverses the typical philo- sophical picture of our success as an effect of truth. This Emersonian approach merits fuller consideration. Emerson was long James’s preoccupation. As a young student in Europe, James looked forward to a time “when Emerson’s philosophy will be in our bones” (quoted in Matthiessen 1947, 432). Nearly thirty years later, at a 1903 Emerson Centenary, James sounded the quintessential pragmatist themes of pluralism and humanism: “The world is still new and untried. In seeing freshly, and not in hearing of what others saw, shall a man fi nd what truth is” (1903, 455). The good that James and Emerson recognize as truth is the good of innovation. Truth renews traditions and thus neither insipidly repeats nor impudently abandons them. Truth, for James, is “a go-between, a smoother-over of transitions. It mar- ries old opinion to new fact so as ever to show a minimum of jolt, a maximum of continuity” (1907, 35). This idea, call it pragmatist transitionalism, is essential to pragmatism even though it is often overlooked.4 It is the idea that melioration consists in simultaneously accepting and criticizing our inherited traditions. At the heart of pragmatism is thus a resolute hopefulness in the abilities of human effort to create better future realities. James fi nds this too in Emerson. It is not a cheap optimism, an “indiscriminate hurrahing for the Universe,” but rather a fi rm belief that “the point of any pen can be an epitome of reality.” James thought of this deeply democratic meliorism as “Emerson’s revelation” and he lauded it as “the headspring of all his outpourings” (1903, 455). And while it may seem an overstatement to say that Emerson is democratic, I take courage for this thought in the precedent set by pragmatism’s most-respected visionary of democracy. Dewey hoped, also in 1903, that “the coming century may well make evident what is just now dawning, that Emerson is not only a philosopher, but that he is the Philosopher of Democracy. . . . When democracy has articulated itself, it will have no diffi culty in fi nding itself already proposed in Emerson” (1903, 190, 191). Dewey further noted of Emerson that “he fi nds truth in the highway, in the untaught endeavor, the unexpected idea” (189).5 In this view Dewey found a pragmatism about truth consistent with his own: “The adverb ‘truly’ is more fundamental than either the adjective, true, or the noun, truth. An adverb expresses a way, a mode of acting.” Truth looks forward to consequences and anticipates a meliorism that “arouses confi dence and a reasonable hopefulness.” The melioristic idea that growth is “the only moral end” is central for both Dewey’s conception of truth and his pragmatism more generally (1920, 156, 177, 178). In thinking of truth as a way, Dewey defends a pluralism and humanism fl uid with this meliorism. 110 COLIN KOOPMAN Emerson’s similar view is that there are many ways in truth: “If you are true, but not in the same truth with me, cleave to your companions; I will seek my own. I do this not selfi shly, but humbly and truly. It is alike your interest, and mine, and all men’s, however long we have dwelt in lies, to live in truth” (1841, 146). Emerson does not refute those who counter his own truth—truth is plural, there is room in it enough for all, only we must hold fast to ourselves, else we cease to live in truth. These and other such anticipations of pragmatism are evident throughout Emerson’s work, but I will focus on the meliorism, pluralism, and humanism in the essay just quoted, “Self-Reliance.” Pluralism reverberates throughout: “Life only avails, not the having lived. Power ceases in the instant of repose; it resides in the moment of transition from a past to a new state, in the shooting of the gulf, in the darting to an aim.” A world completed yesterday cannot be infused with value today. Only if the world is in the making can our acts make a difference. Self-reliance also connotes humanism because it involves a recentering of the soul around the self’s successful creations and away from the powers supposedly possessed by independent truth. Emerson’s humanism is this: “You take the way from man, not to man” (144, 143). This pluralism and humanism balance on melioristic confi dence and hope. Near the end of “Self-Reliance,” in a brief passage thematizing America and its hopefulness, Emerson founds a way to hold together these many strands of pragmatism: “if the American artist will study with hope and love the precise thing to be done by him, considering the climate, the soil, the length of the day, the wants of the people, the habit and form of the government, he will create a house in which all these will fi nd themselves fi tted” (150). Truth by itself makes no provisions for us. This provision is our doing, our art. Truth is the effectiveness of human effort, not a power that informs it from beyond. Rorty re-sounds this pragmatist hopefulness. Of Dewey’s essay on Emerson quoted above, Rorty writes: “For Dewey, Emerson’s talent for criterionless hope was the essence of his value to his country” (1989b, 120). Rorty’s own pragmatism similarly evinces a “willingness to substitute imagination for certainty, and curios- ity for pride” (1994a, 88). Rorty offers neither bland optimistic reassurance nor pessimistic suspicion, but a unique hopefulness that we can create better selves and worlds without “prophecy and claims to knowledge,” but with only “generous hope” that “sustain[s] itself without such reassurances” (1998e, 209). Few commentators stress the centrality of hope in Rorty’s philosophic outlook, and even fewer engage with it as a philosophical concept worthy of attention in its own right.6 But I propose that we read Rorty as he recommends we read others: “skip lightly past the predictions, and concentrate on the expres- sions of hope” (1998c, 205). His philosophical hope thus renews an aspect of pragmatism too much neglected in contemporary philosophical circles, including much work in pragmatist philosophy. Rorty’s pragmatism expresses the hope that we can make the difference between a world sustained by our values and a world to which our values are ir- 111PRAGMATISM AS A PHILOSOPHY OF HOPE relevant. Rorty places pragmatism in the service of meliorism’s enabling mood. Writing of Dewey as a fi gure for himself, Rorty claims: Dewey urges that the quest for certainty be replaced with the demand for imagi- nation—that philosophy should stop trying to provide reassurance and instead encourage what Emerson called “self-reliance.” . . . To say that one should replace knowledge by hope is to say much the same thing: that one should stop worrying about whether what one believes is well grounded and start worrying about whether one has been imaginative enough to think up interesting alterna- tives to one’s present beliefs. (1994a, 34) Concerning truth, then, Rorty follows Emerson, James, and Dewey in disclaiming traditional identifi cations of truth with emancipation: “‘Truth’ is not the name of a power that eventually wins through” (1994c, 226).7 Rorty reverses traditional formulas of truth’s liberating power in arguing that “if you take care of freedom, truth will take care of itself” (1989b, 118).8 Rorty has thus always held that we do not stand in need of a theory of truth.9 He urges instead that we understand truth when we understand what we take to be justifi ed. “True,” for James and Dewey, was a name for the satisfaction of felt interests and doubts. For Rorty, this satisfaction is better glossed as “justifi ed,” but the project of redefi nition remains the same: there simply is no craving for truth itself taken apart from any human interest. Rorty’s ambiguous idea that hope should replace truth, rather than reconstruct it as other pragmatists insist, may be troubling. But more important is his broader resonance with the earlier pragma- tists on the incapacitating results of any attempt to see in truth or knowledge a super-human power commanding our allegiance.10 It is in this vein that Rorty in good pragmatist fashion rails against concepts of truth as a “nonhuman authority to whom we owe some sort of respect” and describes his own work as “trying to move people away from the notion of being in touch with something big and powerful and non-human” (1998d, 150; 2002b, 75). I see this redefi nition as an attempt to credit our hopes that we may increasingly actualize our democratic values by our own lights. Pragmatism holds that true beliefs are sustained by the nourishing energy we give them—this reverses the pretence that the truth nourishes us. The truth will not set us free—our efforts, not inhuman energies, are what free us. Pragma- tism thus refuses to offer up prayers of obedience to a most hollow philosophical idol. Pragmatism instead refocuses philosophy on the differences we humans can make. Hope is the mood in which we expect that we can make the requisite differences. 112 COLIN KOOPMAN The Value of Understanding Pragmatism as Meliorism Explicating pragmatism as philosophical meliorism clarifi es ways in which pragmatism is a substantive, viable, and valuable alternative to long-standing philosophical paradigms. But seeing pragmatism as meliorism is also useful in at least two other ways. I conclude by briefl y exploring each. The fi rst occurs within the context of contemporary pragmatist scholarship. One impasse facing current scholarship concerns the problem of who is, and who is not, a pragmatist. Almost everyone acknowledges that William James and John Dewey are at the center of pragmatist philosophy. But other fi gures, those more distant and more contemporary, remain marginal: most notable are Ralph Waldo Emerson and Richard Rorty.11 By redescribing pragmatism in terms of hope I have indicated ways in which Emerson and Rorty are as quintessential pragmatists as James and Dewey. The advantage of this view is that it enables us to understand pragmatism as a philosophical practice fl exible enough to be employed by think- ers as different as Emerson, James, Dewey, and Rorty without diminishing its strength. This combination of strength and fl exibility inheres in hope itself. This brings me to a second way in which explicating pragmatism in terms of meliorism can be useful. A consequence of my view is that pragmatism seems more akin to forms of cultural criticism than to philosophical traditions such as logical positivism or phenomenology. I am happy with this consequence and suggest that we read Emerson, Rorty, James, and Dewey as concerned in the fi rst place with America and its futures, and then, only secondarily, with topics such as truth, verifi cation, and embodiment.12 While pragmatism’s meliorist cultural criticism resonates with philosophical positions such as metaphysical pluralism and epistemological humanism, pragmatism is better understood as a project of making these pluralisms and humanisms relevant to the culture at large. Under- stood in this way, differences amongst these four pragmatists over traditional philosophical concepts such as experience and language pale in comparison to their deeper agreements about America and their hopes for its future. This is why Emerson and Rorty are as important for pragmatism as are James and Dewey. The advantage of reading pragmatists as philosophers of culture or cultural critics is that we can then see pragmatism’s meliorism as relevant to our current cultural problems. In the American context to which pragmatism is addressed, for example, there appears to be a growing loss of faith in an increasingly imperiled democratic experiment. We stand in need, today, of hope, most especially the strong and fl exible form of hope we fi nd in pragmatism. It is hope that credits the confi dence necessary for melioration. If America is a symbol of hope, as we commonly believe, then it follows that a loss of hope is a loss of America itself. Pragmatism’s prioritization of hopefulness thus offers a much-needed response to the unique challenges presented by the increasing malversation of American hope in our United States. 113PRAGMATISM AS A PHILOSOPHY OF HOPE Pragmatism is often observed to be, though it is not often understood why, a distinctively American form of philosophy.13 I fi nd value in this aspect of pragmatism’s lineage. Rorty summarizes it in describing James and Dewey as “Americanizing philosophy” by “replacing certainty with hope.” He goes on to claim that “both pragmatism and America are expressions of a hopeful, melioristic, experimental frame of mind” (1994a, 32, 24).14 If pragmatism is American, this is because America, like pragmatism, is an emblematic vision of hope. Pragmatism is thus best understood as a philosophical practice corollary to the experiment of American democracy. But my placement of pragmatism in the American grain should not be mistaken for self-congratulatory nationalism. America is but a conceptual shadow haunting extant political geographies. An essentially prospective concept, America is a challenge that we can meet only with the confi dence inspired by hope. Emerson wrote of such an America as a never-fully-present future creation: “I am ready to die out of nature and be born again into this new yet unapproachable America” (1844, 320). Pragmatist meliorism encourages a renewal of our America and in doing so counters the prevailing tendencies of our United States. Hope renews American democracy. Hope names the effort of prospective energy, self-creation looking forward, reliance on ourselves, trust that we shall manifest better values in the world. Hope is Walt Whitman’s America: “Nor is that hope unwarranted. To- day, ahead, though dimly yet, we see, in vistas, a copious, sane, gigantic offspring. For our New World I consider far less important for what it has done, or what it is, than for results to come” (1867, 488). This kind of American and democratic hope is the crucial philosophical innovation urged by pragmatism.15 Notes 1. Exemplary texts include Rorty (1989a, 1994a, 2002a); West (1989); Stuhr (1997, 2003); Green (1999 and forthcoming); Shade (2001); McKenna (2001); Stout (2004); Saito (2005); and Westbrook (2005). 2. Cf. Russell (1910). 3. Following this thought, I fi nd mistaken the claim that for James “the value of truth lies in its power to make the world and our human lives in it better” (Cormier 2001, 28). Truth, for James, is not powerful in itself, but is rather a name for our being powerful. 4. This aspect of pragmatism has been best emphasized by historians and literary critics; cf. Hollinger (1981); Poirier (1987); Livingston (1994); and Levin (1999). 5. Cf. Emerson (1844, 315). 6. Recent attempts to address Rorty’s meliorism are usually circuitous and uncomfortable with taking hope seriously; cf. Festenstein (2001); Marshall (2001); Peters (2001); and Talisse (2001). 7. Barry Allen, agreeing with Rorty’s pragmatist mood, writes similarly: “Truth has no power of its own, no utopian potential, no affi nity for good, and will not make us free” (1993, 182). 8. Cf. Rorty (2006). 9. Cf. Rorty (1982, xiii; 1986, 1995a, 1998a). 10. Judith Green has rightly pointed out to me the difference between Rorty’s problematic call for replacing truth with hope and the earlier pragmatist call for reconstructing truth through hope. I think, however, that Rorty would agree that truth, as formulated by earlier pragmatists (call this “pragmatic-truth”), is quite consistent with his meliorism. Rorty only wishes that hope will displace 114 COLIN KOOPMAN truth and knowledge as these latter were conceived by modern foundational epistemology (call this “foundational-truth”). My claim is that James, Dewey, and Rorty all urge that meliorist hope replace “foundational-truth” while perhaps slight differences remain in how much emphasis is given to the role of “pragmatic-truth” in meliorist hope. 11. And what of other pragmatists I have not addressed? The obvious exception from my list is Charles Sanders Peirce. To be sure, Peirce himself described truth in terms of a progressive inquiry that seems to fi t well with pragmatism’s meliorism. However, his conception was still ultimately reli- ant upon extra-human powers that pull inquiry toward its end. This is clear where Peirce describes truth as something “determined by nothing human, but by some external permanency” (1877, 18), a theme that contemporary Peirceans emphasize in calling truth “something stable and independent of what this or that person or community might think” (Misak 2004, 15); cf. Misak (2000); Talisse (2004, 2005). A letter from Peirce to James anticipates his distance from my melioristic view of pragmatism: “No doubt truth has to have defenders to uphold it. But truth creates its defenders and gives them strength.” Peirce to James, June 12, 1902, in Perry (1935, 286). 12. This explains why most philosophers are frustrated with Rorty: they expect from him much less than he gives. Rorty is not simply writing about truth and contingency, he is writing about the cultural role that these concepts once played and continue to play (cf. 1995b, 225n11). Consider as exemplary the way that most readers understand Emerson as writing commentaries on the American experiment. Concerning taking James and Dewey in this way, convincing arguments that they are philosophers of American culture are given in Cotkin (1990) and Ryan (1995). 13. Cf. Commager (1950, 97); Hollinger (1980, 43); Bernstein (1992, 834); Mounce (1997, 1); Westbrook (2005, 139ff.). 14. Rorty is thus disconcerted that “hopelessness has become fashionable on the Left—principled, theorized, philosophical hopelessness” (1998b, 37; cf. Rorty 1994b, 254). 15. For comments on earlier versions of this paper I thank Barry Allen, Jessica Beard, Thom Donovan, Charlie Hobbs, and G. B. Madison. A brief and favorable reply from Richard Rorty was encouraging. So was an enthusiastic response from Mary Magada-Ward. I would like to thank the Society for the Advancement of American Philosophy for providing both impetus and environment for this work. Lastly, I gratefully acknowledge receipt of a Doctoral Fellowship from the Social Sci- ences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, which assisted with research and writing. Works Cited Allen, Barry. 1993. Truth in Philosophy. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP. Bernstein, Richard J. 1992. “The Resurgence of Pragmatism.” Social Research 59(4): 813–40. Commager, Henry Steele. 1950. The American Mind. New Haven: Yale UP. Cormier, Harvey. 2001. 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Herman Saatkamp Jr. Nashville: Vanderbilt UP. ——— . 1998a. Truth and Progress: Philosophical Papers, vol. 3. Cambridge: Cambridge UP. ——— . 1998b. Achieving Our Country. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard UP. ——— . 1998c. “Failed Prophecies, Glorious Hopes.” In Rorty (1999). ——— . 1998d. “The Very Idea of Human Answerability to the World: John McDowell’s Version of Empiricism.” In Rorty (1998a). ——— . 1999. Philosophy and Social Hope. New York: Penguin. ——— . 2002a. “Hope and the Future.” Peace Review 14(2): 149–55. ——— . 2002b. Interview. In Philosophers in Conversation, ed. Phineas Upham. New York: Rout- ledge. ——— . 2006. Take Care of Freedom and Truth Will Take Care of Itself: Interviews with Richard Rorty, ed. Eduardo Mendieta. Stanford: Stanford UP. Russell, Bertrand. 1910. Philosophical Essays. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1966. 116 COLIN KOOPMAN Ryan, Alan. 1995. John Dewey and the High Tide of American Liberalism. New York: W. W. Nor- ton. Saito, Naoko. 2005. The Gleam of Light. New York: Fordham UP. Shade, Patrick. 2001. Habits of Hope. Nashville: Vanderbilt UP. Stuhr, John. 1997. Genealogical Pragmatism. Albany: SUNY P. ——— . 2003. Pragmatism, Postmodernism, and the Future of Philosophy. New York: Routledge. Stout, Jeffrey. 2004. Democracy and Tradition. Princeton: Princeton UP. Talisse, Robert B. 2001. “A Pragmatist Critique of Richard Rorty’s Hopeless Politics.” Southern Journal of Philosophy 39(4): 611–26. ——— . 2004. “Towards a Peircean Politics of Inquiry.” Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society 40(1): 21–38. ——— . 2005. Democracy After Liberalism. New York: Routledge. West, Cornel. 1989. The American Evasion of Philosophy. Madison: U of Wisconsin P. Westbrook, Robert. 2005. Democratic Hope. Ithaca: Cornell UP. Whitman, Walt. 1867. Democratic Vistas. In Leaves of Grass and Selected Prose, ed. Sculley Bradley. New York: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1949 
work_ig37qdpt25bifejd3kua3byh4u	----	religions Article John Muir and the Botanical Oversoul Russell C. Powell Princeton Theological Seminary, P.O. Box 821, 64 Mercer Street, Princeton, NJ 08542-0803, USA; russell.powell@ptsem.edu Received: 10 December 2018; Accepted: 28 January 2019; Published: 1 February 2019 ���������� ������� Abstract: The relation of influence between Ralph Waldo Emerson and John Muir helps to illuminate Muir’s characteristic brand of nature religion, namely his mysticism. This relation is especially clear, I argue, in both Emerson and Muir’s writing on their mystical affinities for plant life. Applying Harold Bloom’s renowned theory of literary influence, I draw lessons from Emerson and Muir’s mystical writings to highlight the ways in which Muir acquired from Emerson the plant-related vocabularies and practices that came to mediate his nature-inspired mysticism and also how Muir can be said to have surpassed Emerson’s own mystical example, thus opening new vistas of consciousness in human–plant relations in the nineteenth-century American religious experience. Keywords: John Muir; Ralph Waldo Emerson; plants; mysticism; Harold Bloom; literary influence; nature writing Human–plant relations have played a crucial role in the historical development of Americans’ religious consciousness. I propose to examine this role for the light it sheds on an exemplar in this history, John Muir, and specifically for the ways in which Muir’s innovative perspective on human-plant relations helped chart the course for a new evolution in American nature religion. Muir, I will argue, improved upon the mystical precedent first established in the mid–nineteenth century by Ralph Waldo Emerson, whose Nature first illuminated the mystical potential inhering in humans’ awareness of and connection to the plant world. However, whereas Emerson’s mystical vision waned as he aged, Muir’s only strengthened due to the unparalleled affinity he possessed for the plant kingdom. To read Muir ’s mystical writings on plants is thus to see Emerson both reflected and outpaced in Muir ’s sensate metaphysical insights into the thoroughgoing psychosomatic interconnectedness humans and plants all share. Much scholarly attention has been given to John Muir’s intellectual connection to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Most interpreters take two particular approaches to comparing their lives and work. On the one hand, scholars examine Muir and Emerson’s connection within the frame of intellectual history, linking them as key figures in the development of Anglo-American environmental literature.1 On the other, scholars elucidate Muir ’s merits apart from Emerson’s influence.2 The former interpretations are typically attempts at excavating the origins and historical permutations of the American nature writing canon. Emerson and Muir are exemplars in a lineage that runs roughly from Jonathan Edwards to Bill McKibben. The latter conversely seek to show how Muir came to stand upon his own two feet, casting off his debt to Emerson to devise his own sui generis intellectual contributions. Hence if Muir is not an 1 A representative list of studies aligned with this first approach to the Muir-Emerson connection includes (Fleming 1972, pp. 7–91; Simonson 1978, pp. 227–41; Nash 1982; Albanese 1990; Callicott 1990, pp. 15–20; McKusick 2000; Gatta 2004; Eber 2005 and Purdy 2015). 2 For studies aligned with this second approach, see, e.g., (Fox 1981; Devall 1982, pp. 63–86; Cohen 1984; Branch 1997, pp. 127–49; Holmes 1998, pp. 1–25 and Holmes 1999). Religions 2019, 10, 92; doi:10.3390/rel10020092 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel10020092 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/2077-1444/10/2/92?type=check_update&version=2 Religions 2019, 10, 92 2 of 13 inheritor of Emersonian debts, he is a detractor. Rare are careful considerations of Emerson’s specific influence upon Muir’s thinking, so invested are interpreters in the aforementioned either-or biases. Here, I argue we need not be forced to choose between these two options—which is to say, we need not follow Muir’s past interpreters too closely in the concept of literary influence they employ. By treating the tension between artistic originality and an awareness of preceding traditions—a tension inherent to modern literature—as a zero-sum game, scholars inevitably limit their potential interpretive strategies. This will not do for interpreting Muir, and it especially will not do for interpreting Muir in light of what I take to be his robust Emersonianism. Even though Muir succeeded in distinguishing himself from Emerson, that distinction, in true Emersonian fashion, paradoxically serves to reflect Emerson’s influence all the more. Nowhere is this more evident than in Muir’s overtly mystical writings, which are coincidentally the least understood parts of his literary corpus. Muir has long been hailed a spiritual luminary, a fact supported by his recent inclusion in the Orbis Modern Spiritual Masters Series (Muir 2013), which places him in the company of Simone Weil, Mahatma Gandhi, and Thich Nhat Hanh, among many others. For all the acclaim Muir’s mysticism has received, though, questions still abound regarding his characteristic brand of nature religion. Was Muir’s mysticism a product of his influences (especially that of Emerson)? Or were his mystical experiences unique, completely lacking in spiritual antecedents? To these questions, no clear scholarly consensus has emerged. Scholars are divided, in fact, in their affirmation of one inquiry over the other. Catherine Albanese and Stephen Fox are prime examples of the split. Albanese, for her part, claims the religious continuities between Muir and Emerson are unmistakable. Emerson “provided a powerful language,” she says, by which Muir articulated his own mystical experiences (Albanese 1990, p. 103). Fox strongly disagrees, arguing, “No written authority ever influenced [Muir] as much as his own private speculations in the wilderness.” Muir was no mere disciple of Emersonian religious experience, Fox concludes: “Emerson . . . only corroborated ideas that Muir had already worked out independently” (Fox 1981, p. 82). Scholars’ outmoded ideas of literary influence are at least partly to blame for this impasse. The categories operative in their analyses—originality versus an outgrowth of tradition; uniqueness versus a reproduction, however novel, of pre-established forms, styles, and concepts—have long been antiquated. This side of Harold Bloom’s The Anxiety of Influence, few give credence to such categorical binaries.3 Bloom argues that all literary innovation emerges from the complex dynamics of psychological agon. To escape a precursor’s shadow, talented writers carve out a space for their autonomous creativity by swerving from the precursor toward their own strength of originality. Yet all the while the writer simultaneously remains intimately acquainted with the precursor’s genius—it is difficult to cut new paths, after all, without a careful knowledge of the paths one’s precursors have already blazed. Thus literary innovation comes about as much from prevailing literary tradition as from the singular writer’s very desire to be original, Bloom says. Emerson’s efforts to dissuade writers from merely imitating their precursors to finally, as he puts it, “abide by [their own] spontaneous impression with good-humored inflexibility” (Bloom 1983, p. 259)—to realize their own literary genius, in other words—makes him an exemplar of the interpretive method Bloom commends. My argument is that the closer we look at the relation of influence between Muir and Emerson, the sharper Muir’s mysticism comes into focus. Muir can be shown to have taken up the aims and objectives of Emerson’s mysticism put forth most clearly in Emerson’s earliest publication, Nature (1836). Chief among those aims was the task of reconciling the gulf between material and spiritual reality. Interestingly, both Emerson and Muir examine this gulf (as well as the potential for its reconciliation) specifically in terms of humans’ relationship to plant life. A better understanding of 3 While Bloom focuses his analysis upon modern poetry, especially the British Romantics and their American progeny, his approach is applicable to an analysis of modern prose writing, too. Emerson figures prominently in Bloom’s other writings on modern literary influence, including A Map of Misreading (Bloom 1975) and Agon: Towards a Theory of Revisionism (Bloom 1983), both of which expand upon the approach first developed in The Anxiety of Influence. Religions 2019, 10, 92 3 of 13 Muir’s mystically-inflected concept of human-plant relations, then, not only helps define the nature of Emerson’s influence on him, but also goes some distance in demonstrating how Muir can be said to have excelled Emerson’s own mystical example. * A close look at Emerson’s Nature helps to delineate the concepts, vocabularies, and practices which eventually came to mediate Muir’s mystical experience. At bottom, Nature is a full-throated response to the problem of skepticism, or the question of whether any “congruity” (Emerson 1983, p. 43), to use Emerson’s word, subsists between mind and world. The skeptic claims that, try as we might, any mental contact we share with the external, physical world is bound to be incomplete. No thought can bridge the mind-world gap—unity will always evade us. With Nature, Emerson hazards a strategy for dealing with the skeptic’s dilemma, effectively reimagining the terms of the debate. The success of Nature hinges on the philosophical merits of esoteric vision, a theme Emerson foregrounds in the book’s first chapter. There, he introduces a metaphor for perception as peculiar as it is profound: Standing on the bare ground, —my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, —all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign and accidental: to be brothers, to be acquaintances, —master or servant, is then a trifle and a disturbance. I am the lover of uncontained and immortal beauty. (ibid., p. 10) This reads more like a mystic’s recounting than a philosophical treatise. What makes the “transparent eye-ball” passage so philosophically crucial is the way it signals Emerson’s renunciation of the traditional quest for epistemic certainty that skepticism encourages. Instead, he calls his readers to a renewed awareness, one in which we are “sensible of a certain recognition and sympathy” we share with the world (ibid., p. 43).4 Vision is central to this enterprise; through it, nature is rendered into a universal whole. We no more need to mentally grasp than become, through our eyes, the world that eludes us. Doing this, Emerson says, “all thought of multitude is lost in a tranquil sense of unity”—we realize the wholeness inherent to our simple being in the world. This all becomes clear in the attention Emerson gives to the affinity he attests to having felt for various flora during the mystical episode he catalogs in Nature. Emerson describes a robust sense of connectedness to plant life so as to express the strength of his experience of mind-world unity: The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister, is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to 4 When it comes to the role that observation-based intuitions played in Muir ’s thinking, a direct line of influence can be drawn back to Emerson and the Romantic tradition that first inspired him. Emerson distinguishes between direct, experiential knowledge and rational or speculative knowledge as the difference between intuition and tuition. Emerson did not deny that there was value in knowledge gained secondhand, but he believed a higher, more perfect knowledge was available to those who would seek it out for themselves. “[T]he doors of the temple,” Emerson writes, “stand open, night and day, before every man” (Emerson 1983, p. 79). The distinction between intuition and tuition has its roots in the Romantic tradition, and specifically in Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s misinterpretation of Kant. By “pure reason” (Vernunft), Kant meant one’s a priori understanding of certain fundamental aspects of reality. Included in these are concepts like time, space, and causality. Our understanding (Verstand) of the world, which is gained through experience, is what we build on these a priori concepts; without them our comprehension of reality would simply not cohere. Coleridge’s error was to translate “pure reason” into a synonym for intuition, by which Coleridge took Kant to mean a sense of cognitive immediacy which furnishes the knower with insights into things-in-themselves, or the very nature of ultimate reality. See, e.g., (Coleridge 1872, pp. 161–83 and Coleridge 1975, pp. 91–126). Emerson did little to camouflage his dependence on Romantic epistemology, especially early in his career. In places like Nature, he wrote, “The understanding adds, divides, combines, measures, and finds nutriment and room for its activity. . . . Meanwhile, Reason transfers all these lessons into its own world of thought, by perceiving the analogy that marry Matter and Mind” (Emerson 1983, p. 26). Like both Coleridge and Wordsworth, who discerned in their intuitions a divine power which endows individuals with the means to, as Wordsworth put it, “converse with the spiritual world,” Emerson identified in his own intuitive sense the ability to perceive God’s very being in worldly phenomena. Religions 2019, 10, 92 4 of 13 me, and I to them. The waving of the boughs in the storm, is new to me and old. It takes me by surprise, and yet is not unknown. Its effect is like that of a higher thought or a better emotion coming over me, when I deemed I was thinking justly or doing right. (Emerson 1983, p. 11) Beyond mere psycho-physiological correspondence, what Emerson indicates in Nature is that he and the plants that become the object of his gaze are of one accord. Emerson delights in his experience of oneness with the beings subsisting beyond the province of his own mind. Acknowledging plants’ interests and agency, Emerson’s sympathy for plant life is reciprocated in a mutual, rapturous exchange. If Emerson’s goal in the first chapter of Nature is to give insight into his personal vision, his goal for the remainder of the book is to impart a semblance of that vision to his readers. The intellect may regularly “put an interval between subject and object” (Emerson 1969, p. 466), but the aim of every individual should be to overcome the myriad cognitive obstacles to mind-world unity. We do so not just by learning to see nature, but by reading it. The world is “emblematic,” says Emerson, comprised of manifold signs and symbols (Emerson 1983, p. 24).5 The deeper we begin to see and read nature, including each of its constituent parts, the closer we come to accessing its truths. The logical structure of Emerson’s argument follows a similar pattern as this, beginning with an examination of the physical world’s common uses before moving on to explore its more explicitly philosophical potential. Initial chapters like “Commodity,” wherein Emerson considers the uses of nature as raw material, give way to chapters focusing upon “Beauty,” “Idealism,” and finally, “Spirit.” As we learn to see as Emerson would have us, a symmetry between mind and world emerges. No longer a collection of objects, the world, to mind’s all-seeing eye, becomes a communion of subjects, entwined together in the same patterns of life and subsistence.6 This accounts for the reciprocity entailed in Emerson’s mystic interactions with local botanical life in Nature—a sense of fellow feeling develops from the recognition of one’s interconnectedness with other beings. Herein lies “the most basic theme of Nature as a whole,” writes Lawrence Buell: “physical nature’s potential to energize the powers of the human mind once we awaken fully to their inherent interdependence” (Buell 2003, p. 112). When we wake to mind’s intrinsic intimacy with world, the charms of an “occult relation” between human and non-human, “man and the vegetable,” become clear and tangible. It follows from this that, the more we learn to really see nature, the less alien it becomes. We begin to see our own selves reflected in the object of our gaze: “In the tranquil landscape, and especially in the distant line of the horizon, man beholds somewhat as beautiful as his own nature” (Emerson 1983, p. 10). This is not philosophical narcissism, wherein human being is mirrored back in all the forms of life it beholds, but rather a philosophy of reciprocal reflection. Humans, in a sense, are their vegetable neighbors by virtue of the interdependent relationality all being shares. Isolated from their philosophical context, many of the ideas contained in Nature might seem nonsensical, even fatuous. Numerous critics have reasonably conceived of a lunatic Emerson traipsing through a Massachusetts common imagining himself a life-sized eyeball, nodding inanely at moss and dirt.7 The substance of Nature’s admittedly peculiar images, however, are the very basis of its philosophical aims. Moments of visionary transformation establish the connection between outward phenomena and the inner, mental realm of self-consciousness. As such, they seek to resolve the intractable dualism bequeathed upon Western philosophy by Descartes and carried through in Kantian idealism. No longer discrete and unrelated domains, mind and world are married in Emerson’s 5 Emerson draws upon the tradition of theological typology all throughout Nature, going so far as to say, “Every natural fact is a symbol of some spiritual fact. Every appearance in nature corresponds to some state of the mind” (Emerson 1983, p. 20). For an in-depth study of Emerson’s use of typology in Nature, see (Labriola 2002, pp. 124–33). 6 The language of moving from a “collection of objects” toward a “communion of subjects” is Thomas Berry’s. See (Berry 2006, pp. 17–18). 7 This was the basis of much of the critique leveled at Emerson in the years immediately after Nature’s publication, during which the now-famous cartoon drawn by Christopher Cranch of Emerson as a spindly eyeball ambling across the New England countryside was published. Religions 2019, 10, 92 5 of 13 totalizing vision. Nature not only sacralizes the physical, vegetable world, but also insists upon a philosophically substantial concept of the cosmos and humans’ relationship with it, an idea later supported by the rise of modern evolutionary biology. Still, Emerson ultimately saw Nature as a failure—not necessarily on its philosophical merits, but because, much to Emerson’s chagrin, he himself could not maintain the very vision he endorsed. This is evident from Emerson’s journal, where he logged his frustrations mere weeks after Nature’s publication. In ways that recall the “transparent eye-ball” passage, Emerson attests there to the clarity of his connection to the physical world, especially the plant world. But Emerson’s journal also reveals a level of uncertainty that is lacking in Nature’s pages: I behold with awe & delight many illustrations of the One Universal Mind. I see my being imbedded in it. As a plant in the earth so I grow in God. I am only a form of him. He is the soul of Me. I can even with a mountainous aspiring say, I am God, by transferring my Me out of the flimsy & unclean precincts of my body, my fortunes, my private will, & meekly retiring upon the holy austerities of the Just & the Loving—upon the secret fountains of Nature. That thin & difficult ether, I also can breathe. . . . Yet why not always so? How came the Individual thus armed & impassioned to parricide, thus murderously inclined ever to traverse & kill the divine life? Ah wicked Manichee! Into that dim problem I cannot enter. A believer in Unity, a seer of Unity, I yet behold two. (Emerson 1965, pp. 336–37) In July of 1836, weeks before Nature went to print, Emerson wrote to his brother William with a similar complaint: “the book of Nature still lies on the table,” he says, “there is, as always, one crack in it, not easy to be soldered or welded” (Emerson 1939, p. 32). In spite of his flights of perceptual fancy, mind and world remained unreconciled to Emerson’s eye. No conventional belief, idea, or vision could sustain for him what he knew to be true during moments of mystical ecstasy (cf. Harvey 2013, Chp. 7). The crack between self and world, mind and matter, did more than convince Emerson of Nature’s ontological shortcomings. It rendered him distinct from the landscape, alienated from materiality and thus from the reality of his own physical existence. “I cannot tell why I should feel myself such a stranger in nature” (Emerson 1965, p. 74), Emerson confessed in his journal in 1838, more grieving the impermanence of his bond with the world than acknowledging a state of confusion. Emerson’s later writing on plant life proclaims his sense of alienation from the world. In “Nature,” published in Essays: Second Series (1844), Emerson betrays a sense of his estranged relations with the nonhuman biome that was noticeably absent in 1837’s Nature. “Plants are the young of the world, vessels of health and vigor,” Emerson writes, “but they grope ever upward towards consciousness; the trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted in the ground” (Emerson 1983, p. 547). In “Nature,” gone is the seamless correspondence between mind and world that Emerson posited earlier in his career. No longer do the grass and trees bow to Emerson, nor he to them. In place of an “occult relation” abiding between Emerson and the plant world, Emerson rather acknowledges a hierarchy—humans reign supreme while plants “grope ever upward,” conceding both their diminutive status on the register of value as well as humanity’s planetary ascendance. Despite all this, Emerson’s career-long engagement with the question of humanity’s relationship to nature was enormously influential. No American before him had taken up this question with such philosophical intensity, the effect of which was to authorize and energize the natural world as a live topic in nineteenth-century American literature and beyond. Emerson inspired his readers to see nature anew. One such reader was John Muir. * It is difficult to say precisely when Muir came under Emerson’s influence. During his days as a student at the fledgling University of Wisconsin, Muir was surrounded by such New Englanders as James Davie Butler and Ezra Carr, two of his professors, as well as the latter’s wife, Jeanne. All were Emerson devotees. Judging from this, Linnie Marsh Wolfe asserts Muir “was led” to read Emerson’s Religions 2019, 10, 92 6 of 13 essays as early as 1862 (Wolfe 1945, pp. 79–80). Yet there is no way to tell exactly what of Emerson’s Muir encountered at Madison, no less how much. As Stephen Holmes writes, “Although it is often presumed that Butler and the Carrs introduced Muir to the writings of Emerson, there is no evidence that they did so, and in fact he seems not to have read [Emerson] until the early 1870s” (Holmes 1998, p. 7). It was April of 1871, when Emerson mailed Muir two leather-bound volumes of his essays, that Muir began to read Emerson in earnest. We know this from the heavy pencil markings and indexing both volumes received.8 So, too, does evidence from Muir’s journal bear this out, where his writing from around the same time is clearly reliant upon patented Emersonian ideas. In September of 1871, for instance, Muir wrote, The life of a mountaineer seems to be particularly favorable to the development of soul-life, as well as limb-life, each receiving abundance of exercise and abundance of food. . . . My legs sometimes transport me to camp, in the darkness, over cliffs and through bogs and forests that seem inaccessible to civilized legs in the daylight. In like manner the soul sets forth at times upon rambles of its own. Our bodies, though meanwhile out of sight and forgotten, blend into the rest of nature, blind to the boundaries of individuals. (Muir 1979, p. 78) The blending Muir describes here mirrors the sensate metaphysics Emerson styled in such places as Nature. Just as “all mean egotism” vanished for Emerson as he crossed a bare New England common, Muir likewise becomes “blind to the boundaries of individuals,” losing all particularity in his own moment of mystic kenosis. “In Nature,” John Gatta writes, “[Emerson] discovers the world’s transparency as well as his own, and thereby dissolves the cognitive distance between personal subjectivity and material objectivity” (Gatta 2004, p. 89). For Muir the result was the same. Muir’s mystic episodes bear marks of his inclination to seek communion with the world’s cosmic life force, or what Emerson called the “Over-soul,” that which “every man’s particular being is contained and made one with all other” (Emerson 1983, p. 386). Muir’s addition to this feature of Transcendentalist philosophy was to explicate its distinctive ecological proportions while describing the American West. Writing about an experience hiking through Yellowstone, for instance, Muir remarks on the ecology of the place, how the rhythms pulsing through the mountains and geysers, springs and tree groves dissolve the seeming chaos of difference into a grand and symphonic harmony. This, Muir says, is the “ordinary work of the world” (Muir 1997, p. 749), the oversoul writ large. Muir’s idea that all beings play constitutive roles in the various ecosystems in which they participate is also demonstrated by the “people” language he used to describe various flora and fauna. It was not unusual for Muir to refer to flowers as “plant people” (see, e.g., Muir 1997, p. 231; Muir 1979, p. 354) so as to indicate the basic integrity of even those life forms too many contemporary observers might be tempted to consider nonessential to the biome. Despite the similarities in Muir and Emerson’s writings on mystical experience and plants’ role in impelling it, Muir also could be said to have disputed Emerson as much as he drew water from his well. More often than not, Muir’s scribbles in his personal copies of Emerson’s works register a spirit of dissent. Consider a sample of his marginalia, some of which deal directly with passages that evince Emerson’s later estrangement from the plant world, as follows: Emerson: Not in nature but in man is all the beauty and worth he sees. The world is very empty, and is indebted to this gilding, exalting soul for all its pride. . . . There are as good earth and water in a thousand places, yet how unaffecting! Muir: They are not unaffecting 8 Muir’s personal copy of The Prose Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. 1 (1870) is housed at Yale University’s Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library. I consulted this volume at the Beinecke Library on April 18, 2016. Religions 2019, 10, 92 7 of 13 Emerson: But the soul that ascends to worship the great God is plain and true; has no rose-color, no fine friends, no chivalry, no adventures; does not want admiration; dwells in the hour that now is, in the earnest experience of the common day . . . Muir: Why not? God’s sky has rose color and so has his flower Emerson: Flowers so strictly belong to youth, that we adult men soon come to feel, that their beautiful generations concern not us . . . Muir: No! Emerson: There is in woods and waters a certain enticement and flattery, together with a failure to yield a present satisfaction. This disappointment is felt in every landscape. Muir: No—always we find more than we expect As noted above, scholars typically count Muir as either a dyed-in-the-wool Emersonian or otherwise an original to the core—a “belated Transcendentalist,” as James McKusick calls him (McKusick 2000, p. 173), or a fiercely independent thinker who believed Emerson’s philosophy to be, in Bill Devall’s words, a “dead end street” (Devall 1982, p. 68). Neither of these sides is correct in its assessments, but neither are they entirely wrong. This is the assumption of Harold Bloom, whose concept of literary influence lights a way past the scholarly standstill in Muir scholarship. Bloom’s focus is Western poetry since Milton, though Emerson, known more for his prose, plays a prominent role in Bloom’s analysis all the same. The substance of Bloom’s argument is that all great poetry (and by extension, literature) emerges from the struggle between writers and their precursors. Precursors, Bloom says, are an obstacle to their inheritors’ own creative expression. Having legislated the world as they have, precursor poets effectively clap their successors into a prison of self-consciousness, forcing those who inherit their work to forever wonder, Are my thoughts and voice my own? Does the fruit of my labor grow from another’s tree? This, Bloom says, is the anxiety of influence, a “mode of melancholy” every poet necessarily feels (Bloom 1997, p. 25). Literary influence concerns literary freedom. Enslaved by the impulse toward constant comparison, the belated poet feels his autonomy compromised. The precursor threatens to drown his voice and vision. And while “every good reader desires to drown” in the strength of visionary literature, Bloom says, “if the poet drowns, he will become only a reader” (ibid., p. 57; original emphasis). Thus rather than imitate the precursor and remain enslaved, poets of renown—“strong” poets, Bloom calls them—instead “swerve” toward their own strength of originality (ibid., p. 14), opting for freedom by achieving an expression of their unique will to power.9 Put differently, poets do not read their influences, but misread them. They open creative spaces for the revision of, and differentiation from, poetic precursors; so much so, in fact, that “the true history of modern poetry would be the accurate recording of . . . revisionary swerves,” according to Bloom. This misreading is the most basic indication of agon between writers. “Without Tennyson’s reading of Keats,” Bloom’s logic goes, “we would have almost no Tennyson” (ibid., p. 44). A similar dynamic can be interpreted of Emerson and Muir. I am far from the first to note the apparent agonism in Muir and Emerson’s relationship. Most point it up not in Muir’s writing but in the actual friendship the two men shared. Emerson’s choice to decline Muir’s invitation to camp outdoors during the elder’s sole trip to Yosemite dimmed Muir’s thoughts of him considerably, or so some have argued. According to Michael Branch, Muir’s disappointment at Emerson’s decision to sleep indoors and not under Yosemite’s sequoias may have spurred Muir to “protect his own developing identity as a wilderness philosopher by maintaining and perhaps exaggerating a distinction between himself and the man who, by the 1870s, had become 9 Bloom takes the word for “swerve,” or clinamen, from Lucretius, who used it in reference to changes that occur on a molecular level, specifically atoms that move and swerve to make change possible in the universe. “A poet swerves away from his precursor,” Bloom writes, “by so reading his precursor’s poem as to execute a clinamen in relation to it” (ibid.; original emphasis). Religions 2019, 10, 92 8 of 13 American culture’s literary voice of nature” (Branch 1997, pp. 132–33). Michael Cohen goes further than Branch, claiming that, after their fateful Yosemite meeting, Muir realized he needed a clean break altogether from Emerson’s influence. So while Emerson could be said to have “provided a ladder” to Muir’s mature voice, after Emerson’s trip out West Muir essentially “kicked the ladder away” (Cohen 1984, p. 52). There is something of Bloom’s thinking in accounts like these. If we are to believe that every literary talent unfolds through rivalry and creative rebellion, as Bloom argues, then Branch and Cohen ostensibly demonstrate the integrity of Muir’s thought. But Branch and Cohen err in claiming Muir casted off Emerson’s influence once and for all. For one, these accounts make the mistake of assuming literary influence is a skin to be shed. While belated writers may swerve from their precursors, it does not follow that, in so doing, the belated does not remain proximal to the original source of his inspiration. It is in this way that neither of the two opposing factions of Muir scholars can be said to be entirely right or wrong in their judgment of Emerson’s influence. Muir no more dispensed with Emerson than any other writer dispenses with their influential predecessors. And yet, like all talented writers, Muir swerved. * Additional evidence of Muir’s swerving is strewn throughout other of his writings. In a July 1890 journal entry, Muir wrote, It has been said that trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment rooted in the ground. But they never seem so to me. I never saw a discontented tree. They grip the ground as though they liked it, and though fast rooted they travel about as far as we do. (Muir 1979, p. 313) This passage is not so different from others in Muir’s journal. He was inclined toward rhapsodizing about nature, especially trees, and did so often. What makes this passage noteworthy is its tacit reference to Emerson’s “Nature,” the above-mentioned piece from Essays: Second Series. Recall Emerson’s original remarks from that essay: “the trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted in the ground” (Emerson 1983, p. 547).10 Citing Emerson some twenty years after he first read “Nature,” Muir clearly took umbrage at his precursor ’s claim. Most noteworthy about the above passage, however, is the way swerves like this and others in Muir’s writing confirm his participation in the larger Emersonian literary tradition. It was indeed Emerson’s intention not for others to duplicate his individual efforts. Rather, he hoped his voice would inspire his readers to find their own. So while Muir’s swerve away from Emerson distinguished Muir from his greatest influence, it nevertheless also corroborated what I take to be the substance of his Emersonianism. Provocation and awakening are crucial themes for what I am calling Emersonianism. Emerson sought to provoke with his essays and lectures the desire to think one’s own thoughts, to believe one’s convictions to be true. Some of Emerson’s most memorable lines concern the task to throw off one’s conformist slumber to become whomever one truly is, a task he saw as being akin to waking up to greet the day. In his address to Harvard Divinity School’s 1838 graduating class, for example, Emerson famously admonished his listeners, saying, “The imitator dooms himself to hopeless mediocrity . . . he bereaves himself of his own beauty, to come short of another man’s” (Emerson 1983, p. 89). Less than two years before, in Nature, Emerson reproached his age for being too “retrospective,” beholding the world through the eyes of “foregoing generations” (ibid., p. 7). And in “Self-Reliance,” Emerson’s most famous essay, he asserts, “Imitation is suicide . . . Trust thyself” (ibid., pp. 259–60). Such proclamations are warnings against intellectual idleness, a dormancy of the mind. We are too often given to depending upon others’ thinking than we are inclined to trust in our own. Emerson included himself in this, 10 Muir scrawled “No!” in the margin adjacent to this line in his personal copy of Emerson’s book. Religions 2019, 10, 92 9 of 13 too. His readers, he thought, should no more ground their thoughts in his ideas than anyone else’s. Hence one becomes Emersonian by virtue of abandoning Emerson—no longer relying upon he who first made you aware of your many reliances. It was for this reason that Walt Whitman judged the chief value of Emerson’s intellectual contributions to be the desire he instilled to distinguish oneself from one’s precursors, not merely to imitate them.11 The same judgment compelled Bloom to consider Emerson a model of modern literature (Bloom 1997, p. 50). The tradition of striving to improve upon inherited forms, so linked with Emerson in modern American literature—a tradition in which Muir participated, as I am claiming—goes further back than Emerson in historical precedent, further than even Milton (as Bloom asserts). The fifteenth- and sixteenth-century Dutch Renaissance humanist Erasmus of Rotterdam distinguished between following a literary exemplar, imitating it, and emulating it.12 Emerson, in his own writing on literary influence, has something similar to Erasmus’s thinking in mind. According to Erasmus, we should strive to emulate rather than follow, to “desire more truly to rival than to be alike” (Erasmus of Rotterdam 1908, p. 87). Erasmus makes these claims in a work on rhetoric, Ciceronianus, which focuses on the rhetorical excellence of Cicero. Orators should imitate Cicero, Erasmus argues, for there is no better rhetorical example. Yet none should imitate Cicero indifferently, he says. Doing so, one runs the risk of mindlessly repeating Cicero’s own vices. It is instead better to emulate Cicero, by which Erasmus means not merely copying, but excelling Cicero’s example. Emerson strikes the same tone in his calls for individual exemplarity in works like “Self-Reliance.” Imitation, he contends, is a kind of double bind: it considers conformity to one’s models a virtue (and, as Erasmus adds, affirms the model’s vices) while also silencing the unique thought and voice the model’s work originally roused. This is why both Whitman and Bloom believe the most Emersonian individuals are in fact the least like Emerson; or as Erasmus says, “he is most a Ciceronian who is most unlike Cicero” (ibid., p. 78). Slavish imitation “scatters your force,” says Emerson. “Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world” (Emerson 1983, pp. 261, 263). If I am right that Muir inherited and assumed the rhetorical tradition in which Emerson and Erasmus were exemplars, then we need not locate the specific points where Muir may have swerved from Emerson to determine the quality of Muir’s own voice. We rather need examine more closely Muir’s particular emulations of Emerson so to apprehend the ways Muir sought to improve upon and exceed the very forms he originally found in his most crucial precursor. As Erasmus says, “If you put before you Cicero, entire and alone, with the view not only of copying him but of excelling him, you must not merely overtake him but you must outstrip him” (Erasmus of Rotterdam 1908, p. 58). How might Muir, in his emulation, have overtaken and outstripped Emerson? Time and again Muir hems close to Emerson in his accounts of mystical experience. Of an adventure climbing an ice crevasse in the Alaskan wilderness during a thunderstorm, Muir writes, the most trying part of the adventure, after working my way across inch by inch and chipping another small platform, was to rise from the safe position astride and cut a step-ladder in the nearly vertical face of the wall, —chipping, climbing, holding on with feet and fingers in mere notches. At such times, one’s whole body is eye, and common skill and fortitude are replaced by power beyond our call or knowledge. (Muir 1997, p. 566) Not all of Muir’s mystical accounts are so dramatic. Other moments of mystic oneness are wrought by experiences of nature’s lavishness, like an occasion Muir relaxed in the glacier meadows of Tuolumne Soda Springs: 11 Whitman writes, “The best part of Emersonianism is, it breeds the giant that destroys itself. Who wants to be any man’s mere follower? lurks behind every page. No teacher ever taught, that has so provided for his pupil’s setting up independently—no truer evolutionist” (Whitman 1964, pp. 517–18). 12 I am grateful to Jeffrey Stout for pointing out the example of Erasmus to me, including Erasmus’s considerations of the dynamics of rhetorical imitation. Religions 2019, 10, 92 10 of 13 With inexpressible delight you wade out into the grassy sun-lake, feeling yourself contained in one of Nature’s most sacred chambers, withdrawn from the sterner influences of the mountains, secure from all intrusion, secure from yourself, free in the universal beauty. And notwithstanding the scene is so impressively spiritual, and you seem dissolved in it, yet everything about you is beating with warm, terrestrial, human love and life delightfully substantial and familiar. [ . . . ] You are all eye, sifted through and through with light and beauty. (ibid., p. 395; my emphasis) These depictions are expressly Emersonian—ecstasy is realized through ocular absorption; vision is the avenue to discerning spiritual union. Like Emerson, Muir also witnesses to a special kind of worldly intimacy. “The whole landscape glows like a human face in a glory of enthusiasm” (ibid., p. 224), he writes, echoing Emerson’s claim that nature “is so pervaded with human life, that there is something of humanity in all” (Emerson 1983, p. 41). Also like Emerson, Muir depicts the fellow feeling he has for nature—wrought, as we have seen, by his mystical experience—through his writing on plants. Indeed, a place like Yosemite’s “plant-wealth” could easily send Muir into the heights of ecstatic rapture, so evident in his descriptions of the “flowery plains,” “loose dipping willows,” and “broad green oaks” of the Merced meadows (Muir 1997, p. 587). The Sierra’s many forests were the places Muir especially felt at one with the ecological oversoul. Drawing on the Romantic trope of the Aeolian harp, Muir gloried in nature’s symphonic harmony.13 Of an experience seeing the Sierra’s trees made to dance by an afternoon storm, Muir wrote, “A few minutes ago every tree was excited, bowing to the roaring storm, waving, swirling, tossing their branches in glorious enthusiasm like worship” (Muir 1997, p. 237). To the uninitiated, such trees are inanimate and inert—“imperfect men” in Emerson’s post-Nature words. Yet to ears able to hear their rhapsodic tune, “Every hidden cell is throbbing with music and life,” Muir writes, “every fibre [sic] trilling like harp strings.” “No wonder,” then, Muir reasons, “the hills and groves were God’s first temples, and the more they are cut down and hewn into cathedrals and churches, the farther off and dimmer seems the Lord himself” (ibid.). Much more than in the built environment, God, through the lives of plants and their many relations, is revealed. All it takes is our possessing what Emerson, in “The Over-Soul,” calls “the power to see” (Emerson 1983, p. 392). Muir did not stop with the ocular, however, the power to see. His principal innovation of Emerson’s mystical method was to convey his own mystical experience through a much wider sensory range.14 For Emerson, the eye was all. “[N]othing can befall me in life, —no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair” (ibid., p. 10). Muir, we have seen, appreciated the importance of sight for mystic euphoria (this appreciation was especially urgent due to an experience Muir had of nearly losing his sight after being injured while working in a carriage parts manufacturing shop in 1867), but his mysticism also went beyond an exclusive focus on his eyes. In what have become his most famous pieces of nature writing, Muir gives more attention to sound, scent, and bodily touch than he does his vision. He also attends to the emotional resonance emanating from his experience of plant life, namely trees. Recounting a time he spent being tossed by a windstorm in the boughs of a 100-foot-tall Douglas Spruce, he describes “taking the wind into [his] pulses” (Muir 1997, p. 470), as if he and the tree delighted as one organism enjoying a windswept dance. Exaltation, fear, pleasure—all this was mediated through the multidimensionality of Muir’s senses. He was keen on the interconnectedness all being shares: “When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe,” Muir wrote in My First Summer in the Sierra (ibid., p. 245). Something similar could be said of Muir’s mysticism, for when he tried to locate the source of his tree-induced ecstasy, he found each of his senses hitched to all the rest, no one more productive of the bliss he felt in nature than the others. 13 On the Aeolian harp’s place and significance in romantic literature, see (McKusick 2000), Chps. 5 and 7. 14 I am thankful to the guest editors for their encouragement to further highlight this dimension of Muir’s mysticism. Religions 2019, 10, 92 11 of 13 It is not an overstatement to say Muir fawned over Emerson at their brief 1871 meeting. Muir himself attests to being “excited as [he] had never been excited before” in the moments leading up to when he finally made Emerson’s acquaintance—“my heart throbbed as if an angel direct from heaven had alighted on the Sierran rocks,” he gushes (Muir 1996, p. 132). Yet Emerson, over his five-day Yosemite jaunt, became just as taken with Muir. A year after returning to Concord, he wrote Muir, saying, “I have everywhere testified to my friends who should also be yours, my happiness in finding you.” Emerson also made plain his hopes that Muir would soon come east to Massachusetts: “you must find your way to this village, and my house” (Muir 1986, 2:675).15 Muir never did make it to Concord while Emerson was still alive, but that did not stop Emerson from counting Muir among his “men,” a list of twenty favored epochal figures from Emerson’s life, noted in the final volume of his personal journal (Devall 1982, p. 188). By the time of Muir’s addition, the list already included the likes of Thomas Carlyle, Henry David Thoreau, and Bronson Alcott. Emerson was preternaturally drawn to individuals whose mysticism knew fewer limits than his own. This helps explain his fondness for Muir. It certainly explains Emerson’s fondness for figures like Jones Very, who, from the young age of twenty-five, proclaimed himself the “newborn bard of the Holy Ghost” that Emerson had called for in his graduation address to the Harvard Divinity School (Emerson 1983, p. 89). While others questioned Very’s wits, Emerson considered him both “profoundly sane” and a “treasure of a companion” (Emerson 1939, p. 173). Very’s charisma was unflagging—he was known for publicly baptizing unwitting participants with the Holy Spirit. Instead of being unnerved by this behavior, Emerson was profoundly moved by the force of Very’s presence and drawn to his genius. There was none of the mystic ephemerality or alienation in Very that Emerson had so struggled with himself. Muir ’s strength of connection to nature rivaled Very’s spiritualist ardor. Emerson’s desire to learn more of that connection was the prime reason he wished for Muir to join him on the “Atlantic Coast,” where Emerson hoped Muir would “bring his ripe fruits so rare and precious into waiting society” (Muir 1986, 2:675). Emerson, as we have seen, was frustrated by the fleeting nature of his mysticism. Despite his best efforts, a thoroughgoing crack persisted in his mystic alliance with the world. In Muir, though, Emerson found unbroken mystical absorption; someone whose being was disposed toward experiencing in mind and body the essential unity constitutive of all the world’s relations. The irony, of course, is that it was Emerson who furnished Muir with the language and metaphors for articulating the details of the most remarkable of his experiences. So while Emerson, by his own account, had the weaker mystical genius between them, Muir, who availed himself throughout his writing life of ocular metaphors, was nevertheless deeply indebted to the language Emerson used to relay his mystical experience. From 1836 onward (i.e., after Nature), the failure to achieve an enduring ocular union with the world became a guiding theme in Emerson’s work. In essays like “The Poet” (1844), Emerson calls upon individuals of genius who can achieve intellectual feats not unlike that which he endeavored to maintain in his mystic experiences: to marry the sensual with the ethereal, the material with the spiritual. He who can solder the crack between nature and mind, Emerson believes, is worthy of highest repute; worthy, that is, of being called a “poet,” Emerson’s name for great seers of cosmic unity. “I look in vain for the poet whom I describe,” he writes (Emerson 1983, p. 465), no doubt including himself in the assessment. Shakespeare is an example of a figure that does not fit the bill. Despite Shakespeare’s excellence, Emerson thinks his writing is far too imbued with material worldliness. As Robert Falk says, “Emerson is never wholly convinced that Shakespeare, with all his poetic beauty, overcomes the natural taint of the playhouse” (Falk 1941, p. 540). Yet figures of apparent spiritual genius Emerson also found wanting. Emmanuel Swedenborg, the eighteenth-century Swedish mystic, 15 I cite here the John Muir Papers, a 51-reel, 53-fiche microfilm edition containing all the collected papers of John Muir, housed at the library of University of the Pacific. I refer to this collection by making reference to reel and frame number (e.g., “2:675” refers to reel 2, frame 675). Religions 2019, 10, 92 12 of 13 employed a faulty concept of nature in his correspondential mysticism, so never truly reconciled materiality with spiritual truth. The degree to which Muir’s mysticism realizes Emerson’s call for poetic genius, articulated in places like “The Poet,” is striking. Emerson’s clearest description of the poet’s vocation could well suffice as an account of Muir’s mysticism: [T]he great majority of men seem to be minors, who have not yet come into possession of their own, or mutes, who cannot report the conversation they have had with nature. There is no man who does not anticipate a supersensual unity in the sun, and stars, earth, and water. These stand and wait to render him a peculiar service. But there is some obstruction, or some excess of phlegm in our constitution, which does not suffer them to yield the due effect. Too feeble fall the impressions of nature on us to make us artists. Every touch should thrill. Every man should be so much an artist, that he could report in conversation what had befallen him . . . The poet is the person in whom these powers are in balance. (Emerson 1983, p. 448) Muir’s awareness of nature’s “supersensual unity” was absolute; he had no “obstruction” or “phlegm” to speak of. World and self, matter and spirit, real and ideal were, for Muir, integrated in a stable, uninterrupted whole. Every touch he had of nature thrilled. As a result of this, he could not help but report what mystic reveries had befallen him in the woods. He wanted all the world not just to hear, but to come, to see, to experience untainted nature for themselves. Muir, by this account, was the artist of Emerson’s reckoning, the poet personified. Despite Muir’s mysticism being a semblance of Emerson’s, Muir can be said to have realized Emerson’s original mystical vision in a way that exceeded his precursor. He added elements of depth and consistency Emerson himself could not attain, an idea made especially clear by both Emerson and Muir’s writing on their mystical connection to plants. Muir’s mysticism was not the result of his somehow stepping out from under Emerson’s influence (as if this were even possible, as Bloom demonstrates), but the result of his response to Emerson’s influence. Emerson, issuing a call for self-reliant individuals, hoped more individuals would stand at the enigmatic junction of self and world, mind and nature, to report upon their experience of ecstatic unity not as their models might, but as only they themselves could. Such was the basis of Emerson’s provocation, his summons for mystical awakening. Muir’s response to that provocation can thus be said to be the product of his Emersonianism, or the way in which his being influenced by Emerson was not reducible to imitation. “Be not content to follow,” Erasmus writes, but “improve upon others . . . in such a way as to surpass if possible” (Erasmus of Rotterdam 1908, p. 79). So it is how Muir, by emulating his precursor, came to surpass him. Funding: This research received no external funding. 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work_ijgtslxmdrbadlep2dz2y7tbbe	----	Genome Biology 2004, 5:106 co m m e n t re vie w s re p o rts d e p o site d re se a rch in te ra ctio n s in fo rm a tio n re fe re e d re se a rch Comment The Ascent of Man? Gregory A Petsko Address: Rosenstiel Basic Medical Sciences Research Center, Brandeis University, Waltham, MA 02454-9110, USA. E-mail: petsko@brandeis.edu Published: 26 April 2004 Genome Biology 2004, 5:106 The electronic version of this article is the complete one and can be found online at http://genomebiology.com/2004/5/5/106 © 2004 BioMed Central Ltd Anyone who cares about the moral and social implications of genomics, genetic engineering and biotechnology should read Michael J. Sandel’s article, ‘The Case Against Perfec- tion’, in the April 2004 issue of The Atlantic Monthly. Sandel, the Anne T. and Robert M. Bass Professor of Gov- ernment at Harvard University (where he teaches moral phi- losophy), is one of the deepest thinkers of this generation. He is a member of The President’s Council on Bioethics, which George W. Bush established to make recommenda- tions concerning stem-cell research, among other issues. In this essay, with characteristically clear and penetrating analysis, he argues that “the genomic revolution has induced a kind of moral vertigo”, and that we are right to be troubled by such issues as human cloning and genetic engineering for improved human characteristics and performance. He dis- sects four examples of the use of our new-found power of biotechnology: muscle enhancement; memory enhance- ment; growth-hormone treatment; and reproductive tech- nologies that allow parents to choose the sex and some genetic traits of their children. In each case, he concludes that such use is morally objectionable. Strong words, but he defends them with tight logic and a thorough examination of the history and purpose of the technology. His grasp of the science is sound, and he manages for the most part to skirt the use of religious princi- ples, which he acknowledges vary from religion to religion (and even within religions - consider the views of funda- mentalist Christians versus those of more ‘moderate’ Protestants on the subject of abortion), relying instead on pitting what he terms “the ethic of willfulness and the biotechnological powers it has spawned” against “the ethic of giftedness”. Sandel specializes in finding the inconsis- tency in moral and ethical arguments and positions - a tactic he uses here to dismiss such familiar grounds as fairness as a basis for prohibiting certain uses of biotechnology - and he makes instead a case that the drive to master nature, includ- ing human nature, and to perfect it through the use of tech- nology undermines an appreciation of the gifted - and, therefore, imperfect - character of human powers and achievements, and prompts us to recognize that not everything in the world is open to whatever use we may desire or devise. To give you a sense of the flavor of his argument and the elegance of his analysis, I’ll quote two passages at length. Concerning muscle enhancement through the use of gene therapy, he writes: “It might be argued that a genetically enhanced athlete, like a drug-enhanced one, would have an unfair advantage over his unenhanced competitors. But the fairness argument against enhancement has a fatal flaw: it has always been the case that some athletes are better endowed genetically than others, and yet we do not consider this to undermine the fairness of competitive sports. From the standpoint of fairness, enhanced genetic differences would be no worse than natural ones, assuming they were safe and made available to all. If genetic enhancement in sports is morally objectionable, it must be for reasons other than fairness.” Later, discussing reproductive technologies, he states: “Some see a clear line between genetic enhancement and other ways that people seek improvement in their children and themselves. Genetic manipulation seems somehow worse - more intrusive, more sinister - than other ways of enhancing performance and seeking success. But, morally speaking, the difference is less significant than it seems. Bio- engineering gives us reason to question the low-tech, high- pressure child-rearing practices we commonly accept. The hyperparenting familiar in our time represents an anxious excess of mastery and dominion that misses the sense of life as a gift. This draws it disturbingly close to eugenics… Was the old eugenics objectionable only insofar as it was coer- cive? Or is there something inherently wrong with the resolve to deliberately design our progeny’s traits… But removing coercion does not vindicate eugenics. The problem with eugenics and genetic engineering is that they represent a one-sided triumph of willfulness over giftedness, of domin- ion over reverence, of molding over beholding.” All very closely reasoned, yet something in it makes me uneasy. Part of my uneasiness stems from the inherent sub- jectivity of any purely moral argument. Sandel doesn’t just assume, though, that giftedness is a better ethic than willful- ness, he tries to prove it by showing that willful transforma- tion of human characteristics through biotechnology would erode three key features of our moral landscape: humility; a sense of being only partial responsible for our talents and performance; and solidarity. Yet I don’t think the examples he gives succeed in establishing that these virtues are better than the alternatives (hubris, expectations of responsibility that cannot be met in practice, and selfishness). In the end, he takes it for granted that we will share his belief that they are. I happen to feel that way, so this leap of faith didn’t really bother me that much. What did trouble me was a sense that something important was missing. What that is can best be understood in light of Sandel’s linking of genetic engineering with eugenics. Few ideas are apt to provoke as much moral outrage as efforts to improve humanity through selective breeding. But the history of eugenics is more complex than its treatment in this essay, which focuses on the coercive eugenics of the Nazi regime and the rising market for eggs and sperm from preselected donors. And that history is instructive. Eugenics, as defined by the American Bioethics Advisory Commission, is the study of methods to improve the human race by controlling reproduction. The word was coined in 1883 by Francis Galton, a cousin of Charles Darwin. Galton believed that social differences reflected differences in innate endowment, and that misguided charity encouraged the ‘unfit’ to bear more children, which upset the mechanism of natural selec- tion - a mechanism that, left to operate properly, would lead to the continual improvement of the human race. He there- fore sought to encourage the “most fit” - that is, members of the middle and, especially, upper classes - to bear more chil- dren, a process he likened to “artificial selection” and which he called “eugenics” (Greek for good birth). Galton’s follow- ers included George Bernard Shaw and Julian Huxley in England, and Ralph Waldo Emerson and President Theodore Roosevelt in the United States. Eugenics for Galton was a positive process: nothing was to be done to stop the lower classes from procreating; rather, the birth rate of the upper classes was to be increased. As the idea spread, however, it became transformed. The eugenics movements in the United States, Germany, and Scandinavia soon favored ‘negative eugenics’, which advocated prevent- ing the least able from breeding - in some cases through enforced sterilization. Lest anyone think that such notions have been permanently consigned to the garbage heap of history where they belong, in 1995 China passed a law that states, in part, “Physicians shall, after performing the pre- marital physical check-up, explain and give medical advice to both the male and the female who have been diagnosed with certain genetic disease of a serious nature which is considered to be inappropriate for child-bearing from a medical point of view; the two may be married only if both sides agree to take long-term contraceptive measures or to take ligation operation for sterility.” A BBC survey in 1993 found that 91% of Chinese geneticists believed that couples who carried the same disease-causing genetic mutation should not be allowed to have children. More than three- quarters also believed that governments should require pre- marital tests to detect carriers of hereditary disease, and even supported the routine genetic testing of job applicants by employers. There was also strong backing for the genetic testing of children to see if they are susceptible to problems such as alcoholism. So, Sandel may be right to raise the spectre of eugenics in the era of the genomics revolution. But for me, the most inter- esting thing about the history of eugenics is its connection with Darwinism. Not only were Galton and Darwin blood relatives, it was Darwin’s theory of “natural selection” (not, it should be noted, “survival of the fittest” - that phrase, which Darwin never used, was coined later by psychologist Herbert Spencer) that led Galton to suggest that the high birth rate among the lower classes was interfering with the normal process of human evolution. Is it even possible to interfere with the normal evolutionary process? And if so, haven’t we already done so? Evolution: that, I think, is what’s missing from Sandel’s argument. The most important single word in modern biology occurs exactly twice in the essay, in a discus- sion of a quote from biologist Robert Sinsheimer: “We can be the agent of transition to a whole new pitch of evolution.” Sandel agrees that “it may even be the case that the lure of that vision played a part in summoning the genomic age into being… But that promise of mastery is flawed. It threatens to banish our appreciation of life as a gift, and to leave us with nothing to affirm or behold outside our own will.” But he never challenges, or discusses at all, the assumption that we can now affect our own evolutionary changes, or asks whether there are scientific, as opposed to moral, reasons why we should or should not do so. I think there are. At least two scientific arguments could be made in favor of the notion that we should consider inter- vening in our own evolution. One is that, because of techno- logical progress, evolution has effectively stopped for Homo sapiens, and because that is a bad thing, biologically speak- ing, we must undertake to continue it ourselves. The other is that we have already been interfering with our own evolu- tion, unwittingly, for at least a century, and in order to correct the damage we’ve done and avoid further damage, we need to intervene deliberately now. The first argument is an old one. It’s based on the assumption that what governs much of the evolutionary process is the fitness of the individ- ual for the environment - ‘environment’, in this case, meaning predominantly the climate and infectious diseases. According to this viewpoint, our technology now largely insulates us from the effects of climate, and antibiotics plus 106.2 Genome Biology 2004, Volume 5, Issue 5, Article 106 Petsko http://genomebiology.com/2004/5/5/106 Genome Biology 2004, 5:106 advances in public health have eliminated infectious disease as an agent of evolutionary change, at least in the developed world. Thus, human evolution, in a biological sense, has ceased. Since evolution is what keeps a species from stagna- tion and eventual decay, it is imperative that we now take charge of continuing the process artificially as best we can. I’m not sure I buy the underlying assumptions. Global warming, for example, may represent a level of climate change to which our technology cannot make us immune. And infectious disease appears to be making a comeback all over the world, driven by a mobile, increased human popula- tion and the spread of resistance. Besides, I can think of many organisms that don’t appear to have changed much in millions of years, and they seem to be doing just fine now - the crocodile and the mosquito, for example. But even if we grant all the assumptions, there is no objective evidence about the cessation of human evolution. Genomics, I think, is ideally poised to provide such evidence. DNA samples from Homo sapiens over the past two centuries can be gath- ered and analyzed. Comparative genomics and proteomics with our closest primate relatives should also be informative in this regard. How fast, genetically speaking, did the human race evolve over the past 10 million years or so, and has that rate changed? Definitive conclusions may be hard to come by, but any data will be better than what we have now, which is simply speculation. The second argument, that modern medicine and changes in our social structures have already interfered with the normal course of evolution, is close to Galton’s original hypothesis, which as far as I know has never been scientifically tested. It has several new flips now, though. For example, we could argue that improvements in human nutrition and economic prosperity have combined to increase not only the average height but also the average weight of the human population. Epidemic obesity is clearly bad for society, but what about the homogenization of other characteristics like height? We assume everyone getting taller is better, but how do we know? The same genome-driven scientific studies referred to earlier should shed light on these questions. Evolutionary biologists can contribute too, especially to a general discus- sion of just what hybrid vigor really means. It’s not obvious to me in any case, even if one of these two arguments turns out to have a factual basis, that it necessar- ily follows that we should manipulate our characteristics so as to restart, or restore, the process of evolution in Homo sapiens. Implicit in that conclusion is that we would know what we were doing, that any such deliberate tinkering would benefit our species in an evolutionary sense. I am not convinced that we understand the mechanisms and work- ings of evolution well enough to do that safely - but again, that is something about which only evolutionary biologists can speak with any authority. Sandel’s thesis, for all its per- suasiveness, does not let them speak. Moral arguments are an important part of this whole discus- sion, of course, but sometimes they leave no place for scientists to weigh in as scientists, to offer evidence on what the facts are and whether those facts suggest certain courses of action to be desirable or undesirable. If the human race is indeed about to engage in a great debate about how - or in some cases whether at all - our new powers of biology are to be used on ourselves, then I think it is imperative that biologists provide a candid and objective assessment of what the avail- able data tell us about human evolution. Ultimately, the deci- sions that follow from this debate must be made by humanity in general, and it may be that moral arguments will - and perhaps should - carry the day. Or perhaps the romantic vision of the quest for perfection, however unattainable, will prove to be irresistible. I don’t know how all this will turn out in the end. But I do know that the discussion should not be undertaken in the absence of the information that only we can provide. Besides, our unique abilities as a species to inte- grate both objective and subjective factors into our course of action; to ask and try to answer questions that have both moral implications and factual issues; and to be skeptical and adventurous at the same time - aren’t those gifts too? co m m e n t re vie w s re p o rts d e p o site d re se a rch in te ra ctio n s in fo rm a tio n re fe re e d re se a rch http://genomebiology.com/2004/5/5/106 Genome Biology 2004, Volume 5, Issue 5, Article 106 Petsko 106.3 Genome Biology 2004, 5:106 
work_ilzwy4zjvnde5a44tqgqmjguye	----	“I do not want her, I am sure” | Nineteenth-Century Literature | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 74, Issue 4 March 2020 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| March 31 2020 “I do not want her, I am sure”: Commodities, Gifts, and Poisonous Gifts in Uncle Tom’s Cabin Alexandra Urakova Alexandra Urakova A. M. Gorky Institute of World Literature of the Russian Academy of Sciences Alexandra Urakova is a senior researcher at the A. M. Gorky Institute of World Literature of the Russian Academy of Sciences and a Core Fellow at the Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies of the University of Helsinki (2018–2020). Her essays have appeared in such journals as Nineteenth-Century Literature (2009), Revista Anglo Saxonica (2016), New England Quarterly (2016), and Edgar Allan Poe Review (2014) as well as in collections including the Oxford Handbook of Edgar Allan Poe, edited by J. Gerald Kennedy and Scott Peeples (2019). She is currently working on a monograph on dangerous gifts in nineteenth-century American literature; the research has been supported by the Institute for Advanced Study of the Central European University and by the Helsinki Collegium for Advanced Studies. ] D B [ Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Nineteenth-Century Literature (2020) 74 (4): 448–472. https://doi.org/10.1525/ncl.2020.74.4.448 Split-Screen Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data PDF LinkPDF Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Guest Access Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Alexandra Urakova; “I do not want her, I am sure”: Commodities, Gifts, and Poisonous Gifts in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Nineteenth-Century Literature 31 March 2020; 74 (4): 448–472. doi: https://doi.org/10.1525/ncl.2020.74.4.448 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search Alexandra Urakova,“‘I do not want her, I am sure’: Commodities, Gifts, and Poisonous Gifts in Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (pp. 448–472) This essay focuses on Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1852) in discussing the interrelation of sentimentality, slavery, and race. It asks what happens when a slave himself or herself becomes a gift in the way that Mr. Shelby buys Eliza as a present for his wife, and St. Claire seems to bestow Uncle Tom upon Eva and ultimately gives Topsy to his cousin Ophelia. Although much has been said about “sentimental property” or “sympathetic ownership” in Stowe, the instances of exchanging slaves as gifts in the novel have been surprisingly overlooked. Touching upon one of the novel’s important and precarious themes—the distinction between people and things—the aforementioned episodes not only contribute to our understanding of the novel’s gift economy but also invite us to revise the complex attitude to racial otherness in Uncle Tom’s Cabin. I claim that while pursuing a sentimental ideology of the gift that comes to support racialist implications of its abolitionist rhetoric, Stowe’s novel also contains a radical potential of its critique embodied in the image of the poisonous gift of a slave child, Topsy, who figures as an unwelcome, wasteful, and repellent present. Concurring with critical opinion that Stowe’s racism is in the sentiment, this essay suggests that the novel’s unsentimental, explicitly racist metaphors paradoxically inform one of Stowe’s strongest antislavery arguments. Keywords: Harriet Beecher Stowe, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, gift economy, race, sentimental ideology This content is only available via PDF. © 2020 by The Regents of the University of California 2020 Send Email Recipient(s) will receive an email with a link to '“I do not want her, I am sure”Commodities, Gifts, and Poisonous Gifts in Uncle Tom’s Cabin' and will not need an account to access the content. *Your Name: *Your Email Address: CC: *Recipient 1: Recipient 2: Recipient 3: Recipient 4: Recipient 5: Subject: “I do not want her, I am sure”Commodities, Gifts, and Poisonous Gifts in Uncle Tom’s Cabin Optional Message: (Optional message may have a maximum of 1000 characters.) 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work_imgggpyvqrdexoxpwjg7o5i44m	----	ajh014.fm Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent Levander, Caroline Field, 1964- American Literary History, Volume 16, Number 2, Summer 2004, pp. 318-328 (Review) Published by Oxford University Press For additional information about this article Access Provided by Western Michigan University at 03/18/11 1:50PM GMT http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/alh/summary/v016/16.2levander.html http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/alh/summary/v016/16.2levander.html DOI: 10.1093/alh/ajh014 American Literary History 16(2), © Oxford University Press 2004; all rights reserved. Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent Caroline Levander Reading is political. As Jane H. Hunter, Gwen Athene Tarbox, and Lois Keith imply, girls’ gction constitutes as well as addresses girls as a distinct audience in order to facilitate the social changes reshaping late-nineteenth- and early-twentieth-century US culture. Although they diier on the social impact of the girlhood constructed through gction, Hunter’s How Young Ladies Became Girls, Tarbox’s The Clubwomen’s Daughters, and Keith’s Take Up Thy Bed and Walk all assume that if “the process of reading,” as Walt Whitman notes, requires “the reader” of the book as well as its author to “complete” the “text,” the text to be completed in girls’ gction is girlhood itself (424–25). All three books share a concern with girls’ gction and social change, and yet what I gnd intriguing is what all assume but none explore—that is, the larger politi- cal and gnally national signigcance of the girl that girls’ gction helps to constitute. Creating the very girls it presumes, girls’ gction, as Peter Stoneley has recently suggested, teaches both adult and child readers how to invest in girlhood as a way of either accepting or gnding alternatives to consumer culture. The creation of this girl, therefore— whether she seems to facilitate or resist consumerism—is coincident with, and often complicit in, capitalism’s rise. This investment in the idea of the child—in this case the girl— as a pliable, inchoate subject created through collaborative textual engagement informs all three valuable studies and rehects an impor- tant current critical impulse to interrogate rather than assume child identity. Considering what is gained by a collective commitment to the child as “our most convincing essentialism,” to quote Adam Phillips (155), the three books read together oier an extended analy- sis of the social functions that the child identity represented in gction performs in US culture. As Sharon Stephens reminds us, the “‘hard- ening’ of the modern dichotomy of child/adult, like the modern distinction between female/male,” precipitated the emergence of “modern capitalism and the modern nation-state” (6), and gction, as the three books under review make clear, was crucial to this process, if not entirely coterminous with it. A quick tour of the Chicago-based Take Up Thy Bed and Walk: Death, Disability, and Cure in Classic Fiction for Girls By Lois Keith Routledge, 2001 The Clubwomen’s Daughters: Collectivist Impulses in Progressive- Era Girl’s Fiction By Gwen Athene Tarbox Garland Publishing, 2000 How Young Ladies Became Girls: The Victorian Origins of American Girlhood By Jane H. Hunter Yale University Press, 2002 Creating the very girls it presumes, girls’ gction . . . teaches both adult and child readers how to invest in girlhood as a way of either accepting or gnding alternatives to consumer culture. The creation of this girl, therefore—whether she seems to facilitate or resist consumerism—is coincident with, and often complicit in, capitalism’s rise. ajh014.fm Page 318 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM Derek Day Muse American Literary History 319 American Girl Place, where reading is prominently displayed as cru- cial to constituting the girl identity to which the store then successfully markets, makes clear the ongoing signigcance of girls’ gction and the girls it creates to US consumer culture—and therefore the urgent need for critical commentaries like those produced by the books under review. With its signature image of a girl reading to her doll and the American Girl Magazine that it publishes, American Girl Place uses girls’ gction to encourage the kind of pleasurable con- sumer “absorption” that, as Ann Douglas and Gillian Brown have suggested, distracted nineteenth-century readers of popular gction from the pressing social problems coincident with the “realities of the advancing capitalist economy” (Brown 79). Keith concurs that popular gction for girls brackets the questions of social reform and justice that capitalism makes immediate, while Tarbox and Hunter contend that such gction oiers readers “an increasingly radical view of American girlhood” (Tarbox 5) resulting in “Active Citizenship” (Hunter 382) and, more particularly, in Progressive Era reform (Tar- box 5). However, taken as a whole, these accounts of the genre’s wide-ranging social eiects urge us to consider the larger political function of girls’ gction. Because the emergence of the girls’ novel was itself a response to social pressures facing the nation, these three critical studies collectively suggest the need for an assessment of how the girl identity, created in and through the pages of girls’ gction, in turn grows out of the particular pressures constituting the genre. Whether the girls’ novel taught middle-class girls the “taste” essential to their role as “family possessions” (19), as Hunter illus- trates, or “important lessons regarding self-interest, ambition, and cultural transformation,” as Tarbox suggests (8), the girls it pro- duces are a response to, and index of, the larger social demands that constitute girls’ gction in the grst place. This second half of the story—the sociopolitical context in which girls’ gction develops and its impact on the girls that gction helps to create—is important to the current critical commitment to understanding the child as a political construct. For this reason, I turn, in the grst part of this essay, to a consideration of the social context in which girls’ gction developed as a distinctive form during the time period in which the authors are interested before considering, in the second half of the essay, the possibilities as well as challenges that this larger social framework suggests for our understanding of girls’ gction. 1 While it seems to create the girl anew, the girls’ gction that proliferated over a hundred-year period beginning in the mid nineteenth ajh014.fm Page 319 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 320 Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent century was part of a more extended textual machinery devoted to resolving the particular social and contractual problem that children had represented to the nation since its inception. In Some Thoughts Concerning Education, John Locke recognizes the particular prob- lem that children, as a class of persons inherently incapable of con- sent, pose to his consensual model of liberal democratic society. Children, according to Locke, “when little, should look upon their parents as their Lords, their absolute Governors” precisely because they are incapable of the unconditional requirement for elective inclusion within the Lockean consensual body politic—“reason” (145). Therefore, even as the American Revolution created a new people who, as Ian Shapiro and others have noted, based their national identity on an abstract Lockean philosophy of universal rights and then used the child as a rich metaphor to justify their break from the “corrupt” parent country of Great Britain, the child remained a latent conceptual threat to the new nation’s successful continuance (Shapiro 279). Locke’s ideas resonated with Americans because he based consideration of human rights and equality upon an appeal to reason rather than upon the constraints of British his- tory. However, Locke’s concern that “the Characters of [the child’s] Mind” are not and cannot be trained to be consistent with the con- sent necessary for civil society registered powerfully with a new nation that required the loyalty of the next generation for its success- ful continuation (206–07). Legal as well as advice manuals considered, and attempted to resolve, the problem that the child potentially posed to the civic order and longevity of the new republic. William Story’s Treatise on the Law of Contracts Not under Seal, for example, cataloged chil- dren generally as “persons incompetent to contract” because of their incapacity to consent (43), but its description of the particular con- ditions under which the child might lawfully enter into a contract reproduces the Lockean requirements of consensual citizenship. Those few contracts that could be initiated before the age of consent—“fourteen years in a male, and twelve in a female” (38)— must be “made voluntarily and freely, and with a knowledge on the part of the infant” about his or her right to choose (35). If late- eighteenth- and nineteenth-century Americans repeatedly revised their social contracts in an attempt to realize at every level of govern- ance the consent to the larger social contract that the Constitution codiged, the child became a primary site for gauging the success of this national project. Not only were courts increasingly interested in determining as well as directing children’s power of choice, but the popular child-rearing books that proliferated beginning in the 1820s oiered parents advice on how to ensure that their oispring grew up to uphold, rather than undermine, the nation’s ideals. ajh014.fm Page 320 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM American Literary History 321 While the single most important parental duty, according to Benjamin Rush, is raising children “in the principles of liberty and government” (23), books such as Lydia Maria Child’s Mother’s Book (1835), H. W. Bulkeley’s Word to Parents (1858), and Heman Humphrey’s Domestic Education (1840) enjoyed wide sales because they provided parents with helpful strategies for encouraging chil- dren to become not only “free and independent persons” but “good and wise citizens” who would be able, as Francis Grund writes, to carry “their country and their government in their minds” (150). Creating as well as addressing child audiences, much of the gction popular at mid century extended this work of encouraging adults and children alike to align themselves with national interests. Popular gction written in both the North and South during the Civil War, for example, invited child readers to imagine themselves as pro- tagonists in the war—as active participants in upholding national inter- ests, albeit diversely construed, rather than as bystanders in the national struggle. Indeed, as Alice Fahs has recently shown, this gction so eiectively depicted war as “a splendid adventure facilitated by the embryonic national state” that Theodore Roosevelt recalled in his auto- biography the importance of such tales to infusing his Civil War boy- hood with a sense of national purpose (270). Whether or not addressing threats to national integrity explicitly, popular gction tended to feature child protagonists as stand-ins for complicated sets of anxieties about national identity and to thereby encourage what Lauren Berlant has described as a national fantasy of “Infantile Citizenship” (21). Whether aimed at children or not, nineteenth-century gction, therefore, featured children as agents of national interpellation—as powerful vehicles for soliciting readerly consent to ahiation and governance precisely because of their uniquely contested relation to the national body. This solicitation took a distinct shape in the case of girls’ gction, which responded to the social pressures the child posed by making the girl reader into a powerfully hexible social icon. While domestic gction generally worked to construct a privatized female self, degned by her sensibility, interiority, and feelings, as Nancy Armstrong has shown, girls’ gction, in particular, provided one of “the central activi- ties of many privileged Victorian girls’ lives” and an important “vehicle to self-culture” (Hunter 39). This self-culture, of course, was immersed in popular culture, and the importance of girls’ gction to cementing the relation between the two is indicated by the canoniza- tion of the girl reader and her gction. By making the image of a girl reading a powerful trope to which adult and child readers alike were drawn, girls’ gction foregrounded its form as a text available for diverse social uses. Her display at American Girl Place is only one of her more recent appearances; the image of a girl immersed in a book fascinated American artists and writers throughout the nineteenth ajh014.fm Page 321 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 322 Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent century. Winslow Homer’s 1877 watercolor of a girl reading, The New Novel (Fig. 1), for example, visually depicts the girl reader’s power, described by Ralph Waldo Emerson, to produce, wherever she is found, “followers in a few days, and in a fortnight a fashion” (407). This “fashion” of reading that the girl creates is invoked even as it is decried by literary critics such as Douglas, who describes her own early days as a reader of “the ‘Elsie Dinsmore’ books, the ‘Patty’ books, and countless others” (3) before deploying, as a crucial part of her account of the feminization of American culture, the image of “countless young Victorian women [who] spent much of their middle- class girlhoods prostrate on chaise longues with their heads buried in ‘worthless’ novels” (10). But maybe the surest sign of the ongoing star status of the girl reader is the girl reader who literally wrote the book on girls’ gction, Jo March. Even as she is often identiged by pub- lic commentators such as Catharine Stimpson and Carolyn Heilbrun as an important early role model, the fate of Louisa May Alcott’s book- ish protagonist, as Stimpson and Heilbrun also attest, continues to be hotly contested by Little Women fans. Covering the full range of social options that Tarbox, Hunter, and Keith describe, this ongoing conversation among girl readers about the girl reader’s gnal social place—that is, whether Jo should have pursued a life of leisurely ajuence by marrying Laurie, or the career in social outreach mar- riage to Professor Bhaer enables—suggests the current importance of these critical assessments of girls’ gction to understanding the ongoing social legacy of the genre as well as its enduring political eiects. 2 The image of the girl reader carries particularly pronounced political weight in Take Up Thy Bed and Walk, where her physical Fig. 1. Winslow Homer, The New Novel, 1877. Museum of Fine Arts, Springgeld, MA, Horace P. Wright Collection ajh014.fm Page 322 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM American Literary History 323 inactivity reinforces what Keith shows to be a repeated plot in girl’s gction over the last 150 years—a girl’s education through physical paralysis. Teaching readers to understand femininity as psychologi- cally and physically disabling, stories such as Alcott’s Jack and Jill (1880), Susan Coolidge’s What Katy Did (1872), and Eleanor Porter’s Pollyanna (1913) repeatedly feature a girl protagonist who has an accident in which she “becomes paralyzed and later, sometimes sev- eral years later, is completely cured” (Keith 23). In their commitment to repeating this story of girlhood illness, these books not only train girls to understand female development as involving a metaphorical paralysis that inevitably produces “passivity, dependence” and a sense of “losing one’s place in the world, being cut oi and separate, no longer a complete human being” (22), but they simultaneously reinforce the idea that disability is a punishment. In so doing, girls’ gction circumscribes the possibility of changing social attitudes toward femininity and disability, even as such gction uses “disabling disease to present social issues to young readers” and teach social responsibility toward the poor and vulnerable (23). The image of the girl reader becomes, in Keith’s analysis, the plight of the disabled person who, in not walking, “symbolizes our worst fears about depend- ency, expressed in Victorian gction as having to ‘lie on the sofa always and be helpless’” (22). Reminiscent of Homer’s and Douglas’s depictions of the girl reader, this girl protagonist becomes the occa- sion for Keith, from her self-identiged position as a former girl reader, current girls’ gction writer, and disabled person, to call for future additions to the canon of girls’ gction that would oier diierent ways of representing both girls and the disabled. The Clubwomen’s Daughters suggests that such revisionist projects were, in fact, well under way as early as the 1880s, born of a political commitment among clubwomen activists such as Susan B. Anthony, Victoria Woodhull, and Mary Church Terrell to train the next generation of women in collectivist feminist politics. Recogniz- ing that the domestic sphere was increasingly disinclined to foster the political conversation and debate that they had enjoyed as girls and that had inspired their adult activism, such activists encouraged others to write girls’ gction that would model female collective action for girl readers. Therefore, the image of the girl reader who is susceptible to the political messages that gction provides, in Tarbox’s analysis, inspires clubwomen to produce a politically progressive alternative to the canon that Keith considers. Perhaps Tarbox’s most important contribution to the subject of girls’ gction is her excavation of an extensive and diverse canon that includes popular but subsequently overlooked texts such as Helen Dawes Brown’s Two College Girls (1886) and Emma Dunham Kelley-Hawkins’s Four Girls at Cottage City (1898). In its 14th edition within seven years of initial publication, ajh014.fm Page 323 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 324 Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent Two College Girls, as well as much of the Progressive Era girls’ college gction that it inspired, clearly had a signigcant if exclusive following, which Tarbox shows gradually extended beyond the walls of Vassar and Mount Holyoke colleges to include African- American religious organizations and outdoor girls’ organizations. Tarbox suggests that by focusing on “the adventures of the members of liberated girls’ communities” (7), this rich alternative collection of girls’ gction encouraged girls from all backgrounds to resist the concept of passive femininity that she, like Keith, considers to be endemic to more traditional girls’ gction. Indeed, read together, Keith’s and Tarbox’s studies exhibit the wide-ranging diversity of taste among nineteenth-century juvenile readers. The texts that Tar- box analyzes are probably less familiar than the heavily dog-eared pages of the Little Women, Secret Garden, and Elsie Dinsmore books that Keith’s project brings to mind, but, when placed alongside these familiar books, Tarbox’s texts remind us of how important and gnally selective a shared canon is, as John Guillory has observed, in constituting cohesive communities. More persuasive, gnally, than their contention that girls’ behavior seamlessly reproduces the con- tent of girls’ reading are Tarbox’s and Keith’s companion analyses of the diverse and often contradictory range of gctional girl identi- ties available to readers. Therefore, while neither The Clubwomen’s Daughters nor Take Up Thy Bed and Walk takes particularly innova- tive methodological approaches to their subject, their comprehen- sive and careful consideration of an understudied topic furthers the important work of complicating our assumptions about an “essential girl” as well as about the political work she accomplishes. How girls learned to make reading books a priority in the grst place—rather than the content of that reading—is Hunter’s focus in How Young Ladies Became Girls. Featuring “girls as subjects rather than objects, as agents rather than as symbols” (3), Hunter explores the “changing ideas of the female self” occurring over the course of the late nineteenth century (2). As the American middle-class home came to rely increasingly on the work of foreign-born servants and thereby to expand the leisure time of its daughters, girls were encour- aged to pursue activities that developed their, and by extension their family’s, regnement. Hunter gives the example of advice-writer Frances Willard, who, believing that middle-class girls were priced out of the market for domestic labor, encouraged girls to spend their time producing improved versions of themselves as a way to exem- plify family status as well as to defend against potential economic reversals. Reading was crucial to this improvement, and the practice of Jane Addams’s father of paying her for every volume of Plutarch she read represents the extent to which girls’ reading was considered an essential index as well as guarantor of family status. Therefore, ajh014.fm Page 324 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM American Literary History 325 while advice-writer William Thayer proposed at mid century that girls accomplish their goals of self-improvement through reading 100 pages a day, by 1901 advice-writer Heloise Hersey estimated that “the average young gentlewoman reads a novel more than an hour a day. Thus she gives one and one-third years of solid working days to this occupation” (qtd. in Hunter 39). If girls consented to reading as part of a larger commitment to a self-culture that upheld family sta- tus, girls’ reading had the potential to outstrip its purported social purpose. Alice Blackwell, for example, recalls in her diary the repeated attempts that concerned family members made to interrupt her incessant reading with various more menial chores. Therefore, the “elevation of reading to a central and degning aspect of bourgeois girls’ lives” carried with it the possibility that girls would “appropriate reading for themselves” (Hunter 68) to cultivate a “personal taste” and “notion of individuality” (Hunter 87) that did not always coincide with family expectations. If the girls’ novel developed in direct response to a new reading public of leisured girls, girl readers used gction as a vehicle for a “moral and spiritual self-grooming” that could motivate them to gnish their education away from home and in schools, where they assumed leadership roles, often as editors of school papers (Hunter 93). Making reading a priority, therefore, was the grst step in enabling girls to develop a self-culture that at times seemed to contradict its initial purpose, leading Sarah J. Woodward, as editor in chief of the Concord High School Volunteer, for exam- ple, to encourage her female readers to take an active role in public life “instead of sitting in the house reading stories” (Hunter 253). From such evidence, Hunter concludes that the girl reader, even while reinforcing the bourgeois consumer culture this grgure orna- mented, could work to enable the emergence of a New Woman who would challenge many of that culture’s ideals. These multiple politi- cal responses to the self-culture that the girl reader learns played a central role, Hunter concludes, in shaping “the liberal and individual- istic culture of the nineteenth century” (402). 3 However, the self-culture that this girl reader represents not only provided readers with various kinds of political agency within nineteenth-century US culture but organized that culture at a crucial moment in its evolution. In other words, constituting the very self it represents, the self-culture that girls’ gctions disseminated through the image of the girl reader helped to precipitate a broad historical shift away from locating social responsibility in the state and toward locating it in the self. If the child, as we have seen, had historically ajh014.fm Page 325 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 326 Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent both posed and helped to resolve the challenge of soliciting individual consent to national governance, it continued, through the self-culture that the girl reader represents, to facilitate acceptance of major reallo- cations of social responsibility that began to occur in the middle of the nineteenth century. The child, as Marilyn Ivy has observed, plays a crucial role in displacing “the possibilities of politics and commu- nity in late twentieth-century America into the domains of a priva- tized imaginary” (247) that gnally subsumes the possibility of collective social action. But this impulse has its historical origins, as Ian Hacking points out, in the nineteenth century, when the “emerg- ing welfare state” placed increasing attention on the image of the child in order to “radically increas[e] state control over families” (262). Concerned less with “the protection of children” than with the “increase of state power,” federal and state governments used the image of the child to transform mounting social problems facing the nation into signs of personal and familial, rather than civic, failure (Hacking 262). “Beginning in the Victorian era,” the image of the child, therefore, began to serve as a “rhetorical device for diverting attention” away “from society” and onto the self in order to justify a steady decline in social responsibility (Hacking 285). Girls’ gction, I would suggest, facilitated, as well as coincided with, this larger shift toward the social regulation of the self. Indeed, while the girls who do not or cannot read lurk in the margins of girls’ gction—often as objects of outreach for girls who do read— they remain too busy taking over the girl reader’s domestic responsi- bilities to have the resources to transform themselves into girl read- ers. From their position on the sidelines of self-culture, such working-class girls posed an increasing social problem for the state. As reformatory school leader and child advocate Louise Rockford Wardner writes, by way of promoting legislation such as the 1879 Industrial School for Girls Bill, “each unprincipled, impure girl left to grow up” unreformed poisons society as many times as she repro- duces and therefore should be committed early in life to an experi- mental reformatory school (qtd. in Hunter 188), many of which child savers were founding in the late nineteenth century. The same Addams who was rewarded for her girlhood reading, devoted much of her adult life to creating benevolent institutions like Hull House and encouraging literacy among girl tenants in the hopes of preserv- ing the girlhood “innocence,” “tender beauty,” and “ephemeral gai- ety” that she believed working endangered (5). Yet even as books such as Jacob Riis’s Children of the Poor (1892), Edward Townsend’s Daughter of the Tenements (1895), and Franklin H. Briggs’ Boys as They are Made and How to Remake Them (1894) hoped to eiect major reconsiderations of both the individual’s social responsibility and society’s responsibility to its indigent ajh014.fm Page 326 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM American Literary History 327 citizens, the whole culture of social outreach in the US, as prominent late-nineteenth-century child-welfare reformer and Illinois governor John Altgeld observed, was designed not to eradicate but “to intimi- date and control the poor” (Our Penal Machinery 126). In his 1897 address to the Illinois House of Representatives, Altgeld reminds political leaders that it is not the poor but the “greedy and powerful” who have the power to destroy the nation and therefore that “our country” will only fully realize its “great vitality” by “listen[ing] to the voices of the struggling masses” (n. pag.). To the extent that girls’ gction obscured these voices by encouraging a self-culture premised on the leisure the girl reader enjoys, such gction generally helped to sustain the social order that Altgeld critiques, even as such gction may encourage some girl readers to become politically active on behalf of those less fortunate. We need to recognize that, among other things, we are consenting to this set of social practices when we identify with the girl reader—when we debate Jo’s marital choice or visit American Girl Place. We need to understand that girls’ gction constructs not only girls but, through them, the gction of unilateral consent to the social circumstances that allow the work- ing girl to “announce . . . to the world that she is here . . . that she is ready to live, to take her place in the world” (Addams 8)—but leaves her to struggle unaided for sustenance rather than to enjoy the social benegts of self-culture. Works Cited Addams, Jane. The Spirit of Youth and the City Streets. 1909. Chicago: U of Illinois P,1972. Altgeld, John P. Biennial Message. Journal of the House of Representatives of Illinois. State of Illinois 1897. ———. Our Penal Machinery and Its Victims. Chicago, 1884. Berlant, Lauren. The Queen of America Goes to Washington City: Essays on Sex and Citizenship. Durham: Duke UP, 1997. Brown, Gillian. “Child’s Play.” diier- ences 11 (2000): 76–106. Douglas, Ann. The Feminization of Amer- ican Culture. New York: Avon, 1978. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York: Columbia UP, 1939, 407. Fahs, Alice. The Imagined Civil War: Popular Literature of the North and South, 1861–1865. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 2001. Grund, Francis. The Americans, in Their Moral, Social, and Political Rela- tions. Boston, 1837. Guillory, John. Cultural Capital: The Problem of Literary Canon Formation. Chicago: U Chicago P, 1993. Hacking, Ian. “The Making and Mold- ing of Child Abuse.” Critical Inquiry 17 (1991): 253–88. ajh014.fm Page 327 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 328 Consenting Fictions, Fictions of Consent Heilbrun, Carolyn. “Louisa May Alcott: The Inhuence of Little Women.” Women, the Arts, and the 1920s in Paris and New York. Eds. Kenneth Wheeler and Virginia Lussier. New Brunswick: Transaction, 1982, 20–26. Homer, Winslow. The New Novel. Museum of Fine Arts, Springgeld, MA. Ivy, Marilyn. “Have You Seen Me?: Recovering the Inner Child in Late Twentieth-Century America.” Children and the Politics of Culture. Ed. Sharon Stephens. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1995, 79–104. Locke, John. Some Thoughts Concern- ing Education. 1693. The Educational Writings of John Locke. Ed. James Axtell. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1968, 111–323. Phillips, Adam. The Beast in the Nurs- ery: On Curiosity and Other Appetites. New York: Vintage, 1998. Rush, Benjamin. Thoughts upon Female Education. Philadelphia, 1787. Shapiro, Ian. The Evolution of Rights in Liberal Theory. New York: Cambridge UP, 1986. Stephens, Sharon, ed. “Introduction.” Children and the Politics of Culture. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1995, 3–48. Stimpson, Catharine. “Reading for Love: Canons, Paracanons, and Whistling Jo March.” New Literary History 21 (1990): 957–76. Stoneley, Peter. Consumerism and American Girls’ Literature, 1860–1940. Cambridge: Cambridge UP 2003. Story, William. A Treatise on the Law of Contracts Not under Seal. 1844. New York: Arno, 1972. Whitman, Walt. Democratic Vistas. 1871. Prose Works 1892. Ed Floyd Stovall. New York: New York UP, 1964. ajh014.fm Page 328 Wednesday, March 24, 2004 11:18 AM 
work_isu5oq542jaxhg7kxmqlkmx77m	----	Microsoft Word - "Bartleby" An Intertextual Music drama.docx i "BARTLEBY": AN INTERTEXTUAL MUSIC DRAMA A Dissertation Submitted to the Temple University Graduate Board In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Musical Arts By Melissa Pausina August, 2010 Examining Committee Members: Matthew Greenbaum, Advisory Chair, Composition Michael Klein, Music Theory Christine Anderson, Voice and Opera John Douglas, External Member, Voice and Opera ii © Copyright 2010 by € Melissa Pausina All Rights Reserved iii ABSTRACT BARTLEBY: AN INTERTEXTUAL MUSIC DRAMA Melissa Ann Pausina Doctor of Musical Arts Temple University, 2010 Doctoral Advisory Committee Chair: Matthew Greenbaum, Ph.D. Herman Melville's Bartleby the Scrivener was published in 1853. A fictional Law Office located at "No.___Wall Street" is the setting for Melville's tale of a nameless lawyer narrator who becomes increasingly despondent over his copyist employee Bartleby's constant passive refusal: "I prefer not to." This calls into question, who is Bartleby? My aim is to answer this question by appropriating meaning to Bartleby's ambiguous behavior via the expressive emergent properties of music and the disseminative power of language. In my adaptation of the story, Bartleby, who is nearly mute in the novella, sings the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Shakespeare, and William Blake in response to the uncomprehending inquiries of his employer. This leads to my discussion of the expressive logic of my integration of specific texts into Melville's original story followed by an analytical discussion of the musical language of Bartleby and its concomitant musical form. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE ABSTRACT....................................................................................................................... iii LIST OF FIGURES .............................................................................................................v CHAPTER 1. INTRODUCTION ...................................................................................................1 2. MUSIC ANALYSIS ................................................................................................5 3. MELVILLE’S BARTLEBY ..................................................................................11 4. INTERTEXT AND NARRATIVE........................................................................15 REFERENCES CITED......................................................................................................29 APPENDICES A. INTERTEXTUAL SOURCES ..............................................................................31 B. AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE .............................................................................32 C. LIBRETTO ............................................................................................................36 v LIST OF FIGURES Figure Page 1. Bartleby, Prelude.................................................................................................... 6 2. Measure 1-6 ........................................................................................................... 7 3. Bartleby, “Give All” Excerpt ................................................................................. 8 4. Texture Stratum ..................................................................................................... 9 5. Narrative Emplotment.......................................................................................... 13 1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION “Bartleby, the Scrivener: a Story of Wall Street” is a long short story, or novella, by the American novelist Herman Melville (1819–1891). The tale chronicles the effect of an employee's refusal to fulfill the requirements of his employment. I was struck by the remarkable psychological complexities of this story. I very much wanted to represent this psychological drama in musical form, stripped down to it's essentials. In order to explain my musical and dramatic approach, its necessary first to confront the literary aspect of the novella. Since I composed/compiled the libretto myself, I will go into great detail about its composition. I consider the text—even spoken text—as an intrinsic musical aspect of the work. “Bartleby, the Scrivener” first appeared anonymously in two parts in the November and December 1853 editions of Putnam's Magazine. The title character, Bartleby, is hired as a scrivener (hand copyist) and the narrative revolves around the lawyer's reactions to Bartleby's behavior. Bartleby gradually and mysteriously ceases to function in the capacity for which he was hired. The reason for Bartleby's withdrawal is never revealed, although the lawyer believes it may have had something to do with a previous position that Bartleby may have held in the dead letter office of the U.S. Post Office. The novella is one of the most complex stories written by Melville, there is little agreement among critics as to how it should be interpreted. Stanley Brodwin notes that within a "stratum of psychological and metaphysical ambiguity" (175) critics have interpreted Bartleby in symbolic and existential terms. In "Eros and Thanatos in 'Bartleby'," Billy Ted suggests that "Bartleby abandons himself to a suicide of the will 2 and dies as a martyr to the futility of existence." (21) Nancy Roundy interprets Bartleby as "belong[ing] to the narrator; he is the narrator's death in life, the reminder of the innate and incurable disorder which defines his own existence." (34) In a similar vein, Stanley Brodwin observes that "In any study of Bartleby the Scrivener—indeed, with most of Melville's work—a good place to start is with the pervasive sense of death and its accompanying images of spiritual crisis that inform the text." (174) When Bartleby says "I prefer not to," he really means "I will not." Inevitably, the reader is left to question who Bartleby is and why it is that he "prefer[s] not to" fulfill his tasks. It seems evident that the central question raised by Melville’s novella is why in fact Bartleby “prefers not to.” Moreover, when considering the scope of Bartleby‘s statements: "I would prefer to be left alone here" (128), "I have given up copying" (130), "I would prefer not to quit you" (133), "I know you" (141), "I know where I am" (141), "Do you not see the reason for yourself?" (129), it appears as if he is defending a wholly interior world. What is it about Bartleby that causes the lawyer to experience the emotions of “fraternal melancholy?” (125); a “pure melancholy and sincerest pity…that merge into fear, that pity into repulsion” (126) while simultaneously feeling “never so private as when [he] knows [Bartleby] is there?” (135) What hidden depth does Bartleby possess that causes the lawyer to conclude, “it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach?" (126) My interpretive stance is that Bartleby’s silence is an expression of individual will: a will whose preference "not to" reflects quiet desperation and whose presence causes the lawyer to “penetrate to the predestined purpose of [the lawyer’s] life” (135). A conventional approach would be to let Bartleby speak his few lines, while the Lawyer 3 sings at length. This approach would regard Bartleby as a "cypher" who only takes on meaning in relation to the reaction of the other characters. Thus to regard Bartleby as a cypher seems to me insufficient. It is precisely Bartleby's force-full presence that signals the substance of his character. I chose instead to invert the "cypher" approach and bestow a singing voice to Bartleby and let the others speak. The others, in turn, act as a Greek chorus, who comment on an inscrutable situation. In order to give Bartleby his own voice I integrate the work of other authors into Bartleby, with the purpose of expanding Melville's title character. The borrowed material provides Bartleby with a personal history comprised of emotional connections to people, places and events. Each inclusion of an outside text functions to express specific aspects of Bartleby's humanity. The words of William Shakespeare give Bartleby an emotional past and history. The words of William Blake offer Bartleby a metaphysical life perspective. The words of Ralph Waldo Emerson grant Bartleby intentionality and a tangible connection to the world. Bartleby's expanded voice inverts Melville's ending. Exemplified by his statement, "I prefer not to," I chose for Bartleby to transcend his existential crisis. In Bartleby, rather than "abandoned himself to a suicide of the will," (Brodwin 174) Bartleby chooses to see the infinite in everything and live—with a new conception of life—a life that surrenders to the authority of love as one's guiding principle. I set myself the challenge of embodying this conception in music. To do so, I limited the choice of scenes to those that are intrinsic to the dramatic confrontation of Bartleby and the Lawyer, I reduced the music to self-contained and intimate gestures— both to reflect Bartleby’s reticence and to contrast with the Lawyer’s more verbose 4 character—and, as a mediating element, I chose the string quartet's consolidated expressiveness the choice of which afforded me the opportunity to create an intimate musical world. 5 CHAPTER 2 MUSIC ANALYSIS The shape of Bartleby is the result of a series of contrasting sections. Sonorities throughout the music refer to each other by pitch centers or by chromatic inflection. The tonality within these sections is primarily diatonic but not clearly tonal. Each section has harmonic progression yet does not fulfill the implied progression and resolution. Thus, sections are heard as tonal fragments in coexistence with contrasting sections of greater ambiguity. Tonal sections are juxtaposed with tonally ambiguous sections consisting of thematic textural progressions. Furthermore, these sections mutually coexist with those of tonal ambiguity, into which the tonal implications are subsumed. Their coexistence confirms their independence. Tonally ambiguous sections have distinct thematic profiles: a unifying idea. Figure 1, on the following page, contains a reduction of the prelude. I will refer to this music throughout the following discussion. 6 Figure 1. Bartleby, Prelude & ? 86 86 Ÿ~~~~~~~~ 1 . . ˙ ˙ N ..˙̇## . . ˙ ˙ ..˙̇ ...˙̇̇## ...˙˙˙## ..˙̇# ..˙̇## .œ .œ# ..˙̇## . . ˙ ˙ ..œœ œœ ‰ . . œ œ œ œ ‰ & ? 89 89 86 86 42 42 ..œœ## ..œœ# ..œœ# ..œœ## .œ# œœœ# Jœ .œ œœ Jœ# ...œœœ# .œ# .œ œ Jœ# .œ Œ ‰ .œ Œ ‰ Œ jœœœ## œœœ jœœœœ## œœœœ jœœœ œ# ‰ œ# œ ‰ œ œ œ œ ! œ ‰ œ# .œ & ? 42 42 86 86 42 42 86 86 42 42 44 44 13 œœ# ..œœ# œ œœ# ..œœ## œœ ..˙̇ ..˙̇## œœ# ..œœ# œ œœ# ..œœ## œœ .œ# jœ# œ..˙̇# ..˙̇# Jœ œ# .œ ! ... ˙˙ ˙# # ..˙̇ ... ˙˙ ˙ ..˙̇ ..˙̇̇ œ œ .˙ ˙ ! & ? 44 44 86 86 22 œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 3 3 3 3 œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ# œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ 3 3 3 3 œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œœ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ Jœ ‰ ..œœ ..œœ ..œœ# . . œ œ# œœ# jœœ# œœ œŒ œœ# J œœ# œœ œœŒ & ? 26 .œ# Jœ .œ# œ ‰ œ .œ Jœ .œ œ ‰ œ .œ# Jœ .œ# œ ‰ œ .œ Jœ .œ œ ‰ œ œœ# jœœ# œœ œœ Œ œœ# J œœ# œœ œœ Œ œœ# jœœ# œœ œ Œ œœ# J œœ# œœ œœ Œ .œ œ ‰ œ .œ jœ# .œ# œ ‰ œ.œ# jœ œ .œ œ# .œœ .œ# .œ œ .œ# œ .œœ .œ# œ# .œ examples 7 The harmonic language of the prelude is a prototype of the music of Bartleby. "Give All," the concluding aria, marks the emergence of tonality from its implications in the prelude. The prelude begins with the harmonic statement G# F# A B C C#. The music's initiating sonority is generated from the diatonic collection E F# G# A C# [0 3 5 7 8]. Generated from this, measures 3-6 consist of a progression of quartal harmonies consisting of an encapsulated fourth within a stack of fifths: F# C# B A F# C#. This harmony and its transpositions occur throughout the prelude and form the basis of harmonic referents throughout the work. The ambiguity spanning measures 1-6 is brought into relief by a series of harmonic progressions. An example is measure 7 where an F# minor tonic-dominant-tonic progression occurs. This progression is repeated in fragmentary forms in measure 24-25, 26-27 and repeats transposed to A major in measures 13-14, 15-16, and in measure 28. Figure 2. Measures 1-6 8 Figures 3 and 4 illustrate a combination of musical elements in the prelude. Figure 3 is an excerpt from the concluding aria, illustrating the emergence of tonality from its implications in the prelude. In figure 4, the sixteenth note pattern played by the cello and viola is foreshadowed in the arpeggio in measures 22 and 23 of the prelude. Measure 116 contains the diatonic subset [0 2 5 7] D E F# A and recurrent quartal harmonies throughout the music. Figure 3. Bartleby, "Give All" Excerpt 9 Figure 4. Measures 117- 121 Textural structures in the delineation of form are sharply distinguished strata of articulated layers. A thematic texture contains distinctive projective elements that govern the music's trajectory. The expressive progression in the textural structure establishes an anticipatory atmosphere. The prelude’s opening music is an example and gives the impression of having emerged from silence. Spanning mm. 1-7 is a distinct stratum of articulated interwoven layers of increasing and decreasing intensity, as a result of sharply contrasted dynamics. Figure 5 charts the stratum's dynamic-articulative emphases (circled) and its cumulative melodic shape. 10 Figure 5. Texture Stratum In summary, the harmonic language of the prelude is a prototype of the music of Bartleby, in which incipient quartal harmonies exist within distinct texture structures. Tonal sections mutually coexist with sections of tonal ambiguity and by way of interpolation the harmonic elements unify the work in conjunction with the aforementioned recurrent thematic progressions. & & B ? 86 86 86 86 Violin 1 Violin 2 Viola Cello Ÿ~~~~~~~~~ q»¢¢ ! ! ! ! .˙ N .˙ sul pont. .˙# sul pont. .˙# .˙ .˙ .˙ .˙ ..˙̇## ! .œ ! ord. .œæ S .œæ S ord. .œ ..˙̇## ! .˙# æ S .˙ .œ .œ# æS ..˙̇ .˙# ! .˙# æ ! .˙ .æ̇ S .œ œ " ‰ .œ œ " ‰ .œ œ " ‰ .œ œ " ‰ & & B ? 42 42 42 42 86 86 86 86 83 83 83 83 89 89 89 89 86 86 86 86 42 42 42 42 I II Vla. Vc. 7 .œ# p œ ‰ .œ# p œn jœ# .œ p œ# jœ .œ# p œ# Jœ .œ# Jœ ˙# ˙̇ œ œ œ# .œ Œ ‰ .œ .œ# .œ# Œ ‰ .œ œ Jœ # .œ # .œ Œ jœ# œ Jœ# F œ Jœ Œ jœ# œ jœœ F œœ jœ# Œ jœ œ Jœ# F œ Jœ œ# $ œ# œ œ F $œœ œ œ œ .œ p Œ ‰ .œ p Œ ‰ .œ p Œ ‰ œ subito p $ œ# œ .œ BARTLEBY, Prelude 1 11 CHAPTER 3 MELVILLE'S BARTLEBY Bartleby, the title character of Melville's story (set on Wall Street in New York City), Bartleby, is hired by a nameless lawyer as a scrivener, whose job is to copy out legal documents. In time, Bartleby refuses to do anything at all and simply stares vacantly at the wall. Finally, Bartleby is carried off to prison, where he starves himself to death. Melville provides an ambiguous end to the story in which the lawyer tells of a "vague report" he heard that Bartleby's "pallid hopelessness" was the result of a position he held in the dead letter office of the U.S. Post Office (144). Thus, Melville does not provide the reader with a thematic resolution, only the anti-climactic statement "Ah, Bartleby! Ah, humanity!"—a statement from which one can only draw inferences. Approaching the narrative from a rhetorical perspective may replace the reproach of the enigmatic with the fulfilling resonance of insight. The lawyer spends hours in internal debate over what to do about Bartleby. Melville's use of language in the depiction of the lawyer's ruminations and on the language of the dialogue between him and Bartleby suggests a classical rhetorical framework. When Bartleby says "I prefer not to," he really means "I will not." The narrator's failed negotiation with Bartleby's unyielding will comprises a rhetorical elenchus further proved by the narrator's eventual state of aporia—the departure point for my version of the story of Bartleby.1 In terms of rhetoric, this elenchus encourages a level of self-realization through dialectical questioning that produces doubt—thereby revealing 1 Elenchus is an argumentative procudure revealing that each side is true by means of equally plausible yet inconsistent premises. Aporia is the arrival at an impasse. See Lanham (1991) 12 inconsistencies in a person’s thought, argument, or philosophy. Referring back to the narrative of "Bartleby" the title character causes the lawyer to doubt the meaning and morality of his own life, Gradually I slid into the persuasion that these troubles of mine touching the scrivener, had been all predestinated from eternity, and Bartleby was billeted upon me for some mysterious purpose of an all-wise Providence, which it was not for a mere mortal like me to fathom. Yes, Bartleby, stay there behind your screen, thought I; I shall persecute you no more; you are harmless and noiseless as any of these old chairs; in short, I never feel so private as when I know you are here. At least I see it, I feel it; I penetrate to the predestinated purpose of my life. I am content. Others may have loftier parts to enact; but my mission in this world, Bartleby, is to furnish you with office-room for such period as you may see fit to remain. (Melville 135) The lawyer’s state of aporia, his state of being perplexed over his ‘Bartleby’ situation, is actualized in the following verbal exchange, Lawyer. I am not going to ask you to do anything you would prefer not to do. I simply wish to speak with you. Will you tell me, Bartleby, when you were born? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Will you tell me anything about yourself? Bartleby. I am billeted upon you for the purpose of an all wise Providence. Seen above, Bartleby speaking the lawyer's thoughts, “and Bartleby was billeted upon me for some mysterious purpose of an all-wise Providence” (135), increases the dramatic tension between the contrasted psychological worlds constituting Bartleby’s narrative.To Further heighten the drama of Melville's tale, I insert a rhetorical apotheosis. In my piece, Bartleby’s apotheosis is fully realized in his spoken words at the end of the piece, “I know where I am.” And, since it crowns the end of a large-scale work, the apotheosis functions as a peroration. This conclusion was often an impassioned summary, not simply 13 a review of previous arguments. (peroration is the last part of the six-part classical oration: Lanham 114) Jeffrey Weinstock suggests, "Bartleby [the Scrivener] is about the faculty of vision and seeing beyond or beneath the surface of things" (7). This aspect of Melville's story is encapsulated in the peroration of Bartleby. A dramatic pivot occurs in measure 254. The narrator asks Bartleby why he has given up copying: to which Bartleby responds. "Do you not see the reason for yourself?" Bartleby's rhetorical question, reiterating the importance of the faculty of sight, facilitates the work's apotheosis—give all to love; obey thy heart. It is at this juncture in the music's narrative that Bartleby's purpose of an all wise Providence is fully realized: to convey the message that one's dedication to the path of love results in personal freedom manifested in the ability to see the world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower and in the ability to hold infinity in the palm of your hand, and eternity in an hour. Figure 1, to which I will refer on the following page, presents in tabular form an outline of the emplotment of the narrative. Row 2 shows the rhetorical dramatic context of the narrative outlined in row 1. Mm. 1-31 32-81 82-107 108-128 129-21 216-240 241-255 256-310 311- 332 Prelude monologue dialoque sung dialogue sung dialoque sung dialoque Apotheosis Exordium Elenchus Aporia Peroration Figure 6. Narrative Emplotment 14 The pacing of Bartleby is similar to that of Melville's, narrator, the Lawyer, who slowly unfolds the events of the story illustrated in row 2. The lawyer's inner monologue takes the form of an Exordium (hinted at in the work's title of melodrama). Indeed, the Elenchus (mm. 82-240) reflects Melville's pacing, which encapsulates the lawyer's escalated ruminations and brief interaction with the office clerks. As a result of the incorporated intertexts, my version of Bartleby's imprisonment, decline, and death, occurs in measures 241-332 and approximates Melville's pacing and telescoping of events. The following chapter details my incorporation of the intertexts. 15 CHAPTER 4 INTERTEXT AND NARRATIVE As theoretical concept, the term intertextuality entered into academic discourse in the writings of Julie Kristeva. She introduced the term intertextuality in her writings in the field of literary theory. Marko Juvan's History and Poetics of Intertextuality presents a chronology of the terms inception: It was Julia Kristeva who, between 1966 and 1974, invented, defined, and launched the notion of intertextualitẻ in semiotic theory and literary studies with her essays in the journals Tel Quel and Critique, and in the monographs Sẻmẻiotikẻ Recherches pour une sẻmanalyse of 1969, Le Texte du roman of 1970, and La Rẻvolution du langage poẻtique, published in 1974. More precisely, she introduced the term in her essay on Mikhail Bakhtin and dialogue (“Bakhtine, le mot, le diologue et le roman”), which grew out of her presentations in Barthes’s seminar in 1966. The essay was published in April 1967 in the journal Critique. (Juvan 96) The conceptual framework for her theory relies on the fields of semiotics, comparative literature, and linguistics (Juvan 11). For my purposes, the term denotes the study of the interrelations of all literary texts with other works within a socio-historic context. The term 'inter-textual' applies here in the sense that I integrate the work of other authors into my musical adaptation of a pre-existing autonomous text: Melville’s “Bartleby.” Therefore, for my purposes, the term 'inter-textual' means the presence of borrowed texts (inter-texts) within the primary text (Bartleby). The inter-texts form part of the dialogue between Bartleby and his employer and part of Bartleby's sung soliloquy. The libretto of Bartleby contains five inter-textual sources: William Shakespeare's Sonnets 29 and 30, Ralph Waldo Emerson's “Give All to Love,” William Blake's “Auguries of Innocence” and Melissa Pausina's "Sonnet No. 1." The following 16 pages contain a textual chart of the these source works (poems) as they appear as sung passages in the musical drama. Boldface type indicates borrowed portions, then a brief discussion of the text’s origin and original meaning, followed by an explanation of the inter-text’s significance within the libretto. SONNET 30 William Shakespeare (1564-1616) When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste: Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, 5 For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end William Shakespeare wrote 154 sonnets from 1592 to 1598. They were published in 1609 by Thomas Thorpe under the title “Shake-speares sonnets” (Greenblatt 232). Shakespeare's Sonnet 30 has a typical structure of three quatrains, each having its own independent rhyme scheme rhyming every other line and ending with a rhymed couplet. The first quatrain presents someone who, upon reflection, in "silent thought," disappointedly thinks of not having attained what he sought and who grieves with the strength of "old woes" for his wasted time, and who now seeks what he "lack[s]." In the second quatrain, the speaker laments his “precious friends," who "hid in death’s dateless night" and, with the strength of past sorrows freshly felt, further grieves the loss of friends. The expression of grief is reiterated in the third quatrain. In the ending couplet, 17 his grieving is alleviated by the joy of remembering a dear friend. GIVE ALL TO LOVE Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, Kindred, days, Estate, good-fame, Plans, credit and the Muse,— Nothing refuse. 6 ‘T is a brave master; Let it have scope: Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope: High and more high It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent; 14 But it is a god, Knows it's own path And the outlets of the sky. It was never for the mean; It requireth courage stout. Souls above doubt, Valor unbending, It will reward,— They shall return 23 More than they were, And ever ascending. Leave all for Love; 26 Yet, hear me, yet, One word more thy heart behoved. One pulse more of firm endeavor,— Keep the to-day, To-morrow, forever, 30 Free as an Arab Of thy beloved. Cling with life to the maid; But when the surprise, First vague shadow of surmise Flits across her bosom young, Of a joy apart from thee, Free be she, fancy-free; Nor thou detain her vesture's hem, Nor the palest rose she flung From her summer diadem. 18 Though thy loved her as thyself, As a self of purer clay, Though her parting dims the day, Stealing grace from all alive; Heartily know, 46 When half-gods go, The gods arrive. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) was an American essayist, poet and philosopher. Central to his writings is his core belief that enlightenment is achieved through autonomy, and empowered by the ability to experience God intuitively. In the following excerpt from his essay “The Over-soul,” he explains this concept. When we have broken our god of tradition, and ceased from our god of rhetoric, then may God fire the hearts with his presence. It is the doubling of the heart itself, nay, the infinite enlargement of the heart with a power of growth to a new infinity on every side. It inspires in man an infallible trust. He has not the conviction, but the sight that the best is true, and may in that thought easily dismiss all particular uncertainties and fears, and adjourn to the sure revelation of time, the solution of his private riddles. (Emerson 199) In his essay "Self-Reliance", he expounds his concept of God in relation to man. The height, the deity of man is, to be self-sustained, to need no gift, no foreign force. Everything real is self-existent. Everything divine shares the self-existence of Deity. All that you call the world is the shadow of that substance which you are, the perpetual creation of the power of thought, of those that are dependent and of those that are independent of your will. (Emerson 100) Emerson's first volume of poetry contains the poem “Give All to Love,” an outline of his metaphysics in verse. He explains that "all" encompasses the entire reality of an individual’s experiences: relationships with friends and relatives, the turn of events, ownership of property, recognition and renown, plans for the future, and encouraging sources of inspiration. In the six-stanza poem, Emerson connects the finite cycles of 19 natural order with the infinite eternal order through individual feelings and experiences that are governed by love. The second stanza begins with the personification of love as a leader and a master, who guides the individual on an ascending course in all relationships. The “path” represents both the natural and the spiritual journey of an individual, enriched by wise choices and rewarding experiences. Line 9 contains a declaration that love functions as the supreme authority, “utterly” controlling the choices of an individual; as a result, this individual’s life expands in “scope.” He asserts the authority of love by equating it with the infinite essence of God, who “Knows its own path” and the “outlets of the sky.” Love is “a god” and a creator who is eternal and infinite and whose presence manifests individual experiences. In the third stanza, Emerson describes the character of the individual who is willing to give all to love, and suggests that such giving requires "courage" from "souls above doubt." He elaborates that in order to reap the benefit from following Love's path of ascension, one must transcend the human limitation of "doubt." The last line of the poem contrasts “half-gods” and “gods." The path of love rises above the limitations of time, where “half-gods” abide, allowing the individual to witness the presence of real "gods" in the eternal realm. 20 SONNET 29 William Shakespeare (1564-1616) When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries And look upon myself and curse my fate, 4 Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 7 With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; 12 For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings. Shakespeare’s Sonnets 29 and 30 have the typical structure of three quatrains (stanzas) and a couplet. The first stanza of Sonnet 29 concerns itself with the speaker’s feeling of isolation that forces him to turn inward where he cries towards heaven and curses his fate. The second stanza is presented as an explanation for the speaker’s loneliness, and becomes a list of what he envies: those who are “rich in hope,” those “with friends possessed,” someone's “art” and another man’s “scope.” Someone’s “art” may refer to his knowledge, abilities, or skill; a man’s “scope” can be interpreted as freedom or range of understanding. In the third quatrain, Shakespeare uses figurative language to illustrate the person's change in emotional state as he is lifted from despair "Like to the lark at break of day arising [who] from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate" when "Haply [he] think[s] on thee." The metaphor of the lark rising from the earth (line 6) up to heaven conveys that the speaker is glorifying his earthly divinity having transcended his earth bound condition and ascended to "heaven's gate." The poet has resolved all doubts and has come to a new position of self-certainty. 21 AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE William Blake (1757–1827) To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. 5 We are led to believe a lie 125 When we see not thro’ the eye, Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the soul slept in beams of light. God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; 130 But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day. (cf. Appendix B ) William Blake wrote "Auguries of Innocence" in 1803, but it was not published until 1863 in the companion volume to Alexander Gilchrist's biography of the author. “Auguries” means omens or divinations. “Innocence,” according to the subtitle of Blake’s Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1794), is one of the two contrary states of the human soul. In Blake’s poetry, innocence is related to existence in paradise and is associated with childhood (Bentley 230). Thus the title of “Auguries of Innocence” suggests that the poem will present omens from an innocent perspective. Except for the first four of 132 lines, “Auguries of Innocence” consists of a series of couplets, each containing an aphorism, all of which are thematically unrelated: each couplet can be removed from the context of the rest of the poem and examined for its individual content. A conceptual coherence emerges upon reading the first 4 lines and the last 6 lines of the poem. “Auguries of Innocence” begins with four alternately rhymed lines in which one can “see a World in a Grain of Sand,” and Eternity can be contained “in an hour.” The poem’s last six lines describe two ways of seeing: with the eyes and through the eyes. Seeing with the eyes leads the percipient to a mistaken faith in the visible universe, but 22 by seeing through the eyes, with imaginative vision rather than physical sight, the percipient can break through the physical world and escape its “Night.” To those who dwell in this night of visible perception, “God appears and God is Light,” but to the visionaries “who Dwell in Realms of day,” God “does a Human Form Display”; God displays his human form to those who can correctly perceive Him—emanating from oneself. As in the opening quatrain of the poem, the infinite is represented by the particular: God can be visualized in human form just as the world can be seen in a grain of sand or heaven in a wildflower. In essence, “Auguries of Innocence” is a message of transcendence. Blake suggests that one must perceptually transcend the illusory nature of the physical universe in order see the infinite in everything. NARRATIVE Within the narrative of Bartleby the musical drama, the intertexts form part of the dialogue between Bartleby and his employer as well as part of Bartleby's sung soliloquy. I use the term “soliloquy” because the original texts are, in essence, dramatic monologues that function to disclose Bartleby's subjective state. Each appearance of an intertext is facilitated by the narrator directly or indirectly (rhetorically) asking Bartleby a question and is followed by Bartleby's intertextual response. I altered the poems using five techniques: 1) truncation, 2) omission, 3) re-ordering 4) variation and 5) mixture. The first point of insertion follows the lawyer’s request that Bartleby examine the accuracy of his own copies against the original document, to which Bartleby responds: "I prefer not to." Having become increasingly agitated with Bartleby's passive refusal, the lawyer attempts to reason with Bartleby in the following dialogue. "These are your own copies we are about to examine. Is it not labor saving to you? Is it not so? Will you not 23 speak? Answer?" It is at this point in the narrative that Bartleby provides a relatively substantial answer beyond what the lawyer's "own astonished eyes saw of him." A seminal moment, Bartleby answers singing text from William Shakespeare's Sonnet 30: When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, 2 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waist. 4 Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, 6 And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the'expense of many a vanish'd sight; 8 Bartleby sings a truncated version of the sonnet consisting of the first eight lines (or two quatrains) of the poem. My appropriation of these lines is a means through which Bartleby discloses his emotional state. For example, the “silent thought” that the persona of the sonnet is described as “sweet," even though those events that he is reminiscing about are unfavorable. Further, the sonnet's illustrative power and main subject— evocation of things loved and lost— narratively functions to expand Bartleby's character by providing him with an emotional past and a personal history comprised of connections to people, places and events. The imagery of the sonnet's first quatrain presents Bartleby in a state of recollection, remembrance and contemplation; and with the strength of past sorrows freshly felt, he grieves the squandering of precious time. His reflection reveals his grief and disappointment over time and effort wasted in search of the unattained. Bartleby reflects upon his past experiences and grieves over "many a thing" he "sought" and did not find, and "with old woes new wail[s]" his "dear time's waste." The second stanza reveals that Bartleby has a physical and emotional past connected to people, places and events that have shaped him. The experience of joy expressed in the sonnet's ending 24 couplet is absent from Bartleby's sung text and leaves the character lingering in a contemplative state of accepted sorrow and regret. Yet, as a result of his choices, he accepts life's circumstances. The song “Give All” is an example of five techniques of intertextual construction. The sources are indicated below by the following typefaces: Emerson, Pausina, Shakespeare, Blake. Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, Kindred, days, Estate, good-fame, Plans, credit and the Muse,— Nothing refuse. 6 In the above first stanza (lines 1-6), the audience is advised to “obey” the heart because it represents the faculty that understands the language of love. Bartleby urges the audience to submit to love with an open mind, refusing nothing within one’s entire reality of individual experience: relationships with friends and relatives, the turn of events, ownership of property, recognition and renown, plans for the future, and encouraging sources of inspiration. Seen below, in the opening line of the second stanza, Bartleby emphasizes the sovereignty of love as Providence in one's life. “Leave all for love” is a reminder to pursue the ascending path with “One word more” of caution, which requires “firm endeavor” in preserving the autonomy of an individual. Leave all for Love; Yet, hear me, yet, One word more thy heart behoved. One pulse more of firm endeavor,— Keep the to-day, To-morrow, forever. 13 25 The third stanza (lines 14-19) is an example of omission and re-ordering, in which Bartleby proclaims "Heartily know, when half-gods go, The gods arrive," followed by "But it is a god, Knows it's own path And the outlets of the sky." Heartily know, 14 When half-gods go, The gods arrive; But it is a god, Knows its own path And the outlets of the sky 19 The original meaning of the passage is retained from Emerson's poem. Emerson and Bartleby both assert the authority of love by equating it with the infinite essence of a god who “Knows its own path” (18) and the “outlets of the sky.” (19) Bartleby further insinuates that, as result of a person's surrendering to the authority of love as one's guiding principle, an individual's externalization of misguiding false gods is replaced by the arrival of the true “gods." When a person does not obey one's heart and does not give and leave all to love, their field of vision is clouded by half-gods. Yet when their heart is obeyed and love reigns, the clarity of the true god within arrives and illuminates a person’s unique path. The “path” represents both the natural and the spiritual journey of an individual. This transcendent "path" is a manifestation of love equaling God's universal wisdom. Bartleby embodies Emerson’s concept of God in relation to man. The height, the deity of man is, to be self-sustained, to need no gift, no foreign force. Everything real is self-existent. Everything divine shares the self-existence of Deity. All that you call the world is the shadow of that substance which you are, the perpetual creation of the power of thought, of those that are dependent and of those that are independent of your will. (Emerson 100) 26 The end of the aria’s third stanza exposes Bartleby as an omniscient being, revealing himself as Emerson’s "deity of man." From this perspective, he sings the aria's climax: For those who's sky is darkened at an early age, 21–variation and truncation [From] desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 22 –omission and variation [with] untold intent they shall return, 23 –re-ordering (abstraction) and from earth sing at heavens gate; 24 –(abstraction) and omission still lit, they've found a path displayed 25 –variation to those who dwell in realms of day 26 –re-ordering But does a human form display 27 –truncation To those who dwell in realms of day. 28 –truncation The above excerpt cumulatively contains all five techniques of inter-textual construction, indicated by line number. Appendix A lists the corresponding excerpts of the inter-textual sources. Here, Bartleby addresses the audience to sing to those who experience grief as a result of losing sight of their individual path through "desiring this man's art and that man's scope." (22) The wisdom of love will guide one out of darkness and "with untold intent they shall return" (23) to their transcendent path. This resonates with Emerson's caveat from his essay “Self-Reliance” when he writes: Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can present every moment with the cumulative force of a whole life's cultivation; but of the adopted talent of another you have only extemporaneous, half possession. That which each can do best, none but his Maker can teach him. No man yet knows what it is, nor can, till that person has exhibited it. Where is the master that could have taught Shakespeare? (Emerson 133) 27 CONCLUSION I have discussed above the compositional process and structure of Bartleby the melodrama, and treatment of the constructed and interpolated texts. When considering the scope of Bartleby‘s statements, "I would prefer to be left alone here" (128) to "I know where I am" (141) it appears as if he is defending a wholly interior world. To establish Bartleby's voice and give expression to his interior world, I integrated the work of other authors into Bartleby, with the purpose of expanding Melville's title character. The addition of these literary sources has not only added complexity and enriched the character of Bartleby, his engagement with other notable literary texts places him within a larger literary canon: that of his contemporaries (Emerson) and their common influences (Shakespeare). My interpretation is that Bartleby’s silence is an expression of individual will, a will whose preference "not to" reflects quiet desperation and whose presence causes the lawyer to “penetrate to the predestined purpose of [the lawyer’s] life” (135). For dramatic effect, the borrowed material provides Bartleby with a personal history comprised of emotional connections to people, places and events. His established character and new exterior voice enabled me to express my interpretation of Melville's character. Bartleby focuses on Melville's title character rather than that of the nameless lawyer. For the purpose of bringing the character Bartleby further into focus and to give outer expression to his inner world, I bestow on him alone a singing voice. Furthermore, by means of intertextual construction, Bartleby's new exterior voice made possible composition of an alternative ending to Melville's tale, suggested by his final statement, “I know where I am,” offering a thematic solution in which Bartleby surrenders to the 28 authority of love as one's guiding principle. In summary, the crux of Bartleby's compositional singularity is the addition of an expanded voice to a notoriously mysterious character, in order to provide new depth and a new perspective to a perplexing literary character. 29 REFERENCES CITED Bentley Jr, George. The Stranger From Paradise: A Biography of William Blake. Yale University Press, 2001. Billy, Ted. "Eros and Thanatos in 'Bartleby'," Arizona Quarterly 31 (1975): 21-32. Brodwin, Stanley. "To the Frontiers of Eternity: Melville's Crossing in 'Bartleby the Scrivener.'" Bartleby the Inscrutable: A Collection of Commentary on Herman Melville's Tale "Bartleby the Scrivener." Ed. M. Thomas Ingel, Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1979. 174-96. Davis, Todd F. "The Narrator’s Dilemma in ‘Bartleby the Scrivener’: The Excellently Illustrated Re-Statement of a Problem. " Studies in Short Fiction. 34 (1997): 183- 92. Delbanco, Andrew. Melville: His World and Work. New York: Random House, 2005. Emerson, Ralph Waldo "The Over-Soul" (1846). In Essays and Poems by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Edited by George Stade. New York: Fine Creative Media, 2004. 186- 201. Greenblatt, Stephan. Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare. New York: Norton, 2004. Juvan, Marko. History and Poetics of Intertextuality. Translated by Timothy Pogacar. Indiana: Purdue University Press, 2008. Lanham, Richard. A Handlist of Rhetorical Terms. 2nd. ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991. McCall, Dan. The Silence of Bartleby. Ithaca: Cornell U. Press. 1989. Melville,Herman. "Bartleby the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street." The Piazzza Tales and other Prose Piece. 1839-1860. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1987. 13-46. Rpt. in Great American Short Stories: from Hawthorne to Hemingway. Ed. Corrine Demas. New York: Fine Creative Media, 2004, 109-144. Roundy, Nancy. "'That Is All I Know of Him': Epistemology and Art in Melville's 'Bartleby.'" Essays in Arts and Sciences 9 (1980): 33-43. Weinstock, Jeffery. "Doing Justice to Bartleby." American Transcendental Quarterly 17 (2003): 1-16. 30 APPENDICES 31 APPENDIX A Pausina, "Sonnet No.1" For those who find the winter of their life at an early age, spring can not come soon enough, in fear their light might fade. But when the seasons change, and light endures They find a path, still lit, to follow every day. 4 Shakespeare, "Sonnet No. 29", Second & Third Quatrain Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possess'd, [From] Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 7 With what I most enjoy contented least; Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate; 12 Emerson, "Give All to Love", Stanzas Two & Three ‘T is a brave master; Let it have scope: Follow it utterly, Hope beyond hope: High and more high It dives into noon, With wing unspent, Untold intent; 14 But it is a god, Knows its own path And the outlets of the sky. It was never for the mean; It requireth courage stout. Souls above doubt, Valor unbending, It will reward,— They shall return 23 More than they were, Blake, "Auguries of Innocence", Lines 129-132 God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; But does a human form display 131 To those who dwell in realms of day. 132 32 APPENDIX B AUGURIES OF INNOCENCE William Blake To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage. A dove-house fill'd with doves and pigeons Shudders hell thro' all its regions. A dog starv'd at his master's gate Predicts the ruin of the state. A horse misused upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fiber from the brain does tear. A skylark wounded in the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing. The game-cock clipped and arm'd for fight Does the rising sun affright. Every wolf's and lion's howl Raises from hell a human soul. The wild deer, wand'ring here and there, Keeps the human soul from care. The lamb misus'd breeds public strife, And yet forgives the butcher's knife. The bat that flits at close of eve Has left the brain that won't believe. The owl that calls upon the night Speaks the unbeliever's fright. He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be belov'd by men. He who the ox to wrath has mov'd Shall never be by woman lov'd. The wanton boy that kills the fly Shall feel the spider's enmity. He who torments the chafer's sprite Weaves a bower in endless night. 33 The caterpillar on the leaf Repeats to thee thy mother's grief. Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the last judgment draweth nigh. He who shall train the horse to war Shall never pass the polar bar. The beggar's dog and widow's cat, Feed them and thou wilt grow fat. The gnat that sings his summer's song Poison gets from slander's tongue. The poison of the snake and newt Is the sweat of envy's foot. The poison of the honey bee Is the artist's jealousy. The prince's robes and beggar's rags Are toadstools on the miser's bags. A truth that's told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for joy and woe; And when this we rightly know, Thro' the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The babe is more than swaddling bands; Every farmer understands. Every tear from every eye Becomes a babe in eternity; This is caught by females bright, And return'd to its own delight. The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar, Are waves that beat on heaven's shore. The babe that weeps the rod beneath Writes revenge in realms of death. The beggar's rags, fluttering in air, Does to rags the heavens tear. The soldier, arm'd with sword and gun, Palsied strikes the summer's sun. The poor man's farthing is worth more Than all the gold on Afric's shore. One mite wrung from the laborer's hands Shall buy and sell the miser's lands; 34 Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole nation sell and buy. He who mocks the infant's faith Shall be mock'd in age and death. He who shall teach the child to doubt The rotting grave shall never get out. He who respects the infant's faith Triumphs over hell and death. The child's toys and the old man's reasons Are the fruits of the two seasons. The questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to reply. He who replies to words of doubt Doth put the light of knowledge out. The strongest poison ever known Came from Caesar's laurel crown. Nought can deform the human race Like to the armor's iron brace. When gold and gems adorn the plow, To peaceful arts shall envy bow. A riddle, or the cricket's cry, Is to doubt a fit reply. The emmet's inch and eagle's mile Make lame philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will never believe, do what you please. If the sun and moon should doubt, They'd immediately go out. To be in a passion you good may do, But no good if a passion is in you. The whore and gambler, by the state Licensed, build that nation's fate. The harlot's cry from street to street Shall weave old England's winding-sheet. The winner's shout, the loser's curse, Dance before dead England's hearse. Every night and every morn Some to misery are born, Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night. 35 We are led to believe a lie When we see not thro' the eye, Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the soul slept in beams of light. God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day. 36 APPENDIX C Scene. A lawyers office at NO.___Wall Street. Lawyer. I am rather an elderly man. The nature of my avocations has brought me into contact with a rather singular set of men. I mean the scriveners. I could relate rather diverse histories. But I waive the stories of all other scriveners for a few passages in the life of Bartleby, who was a scrivener, the strangest I ever saw. No materials exist for a full biography of this man. What my own astonished eyes saw of Bartleby, that is all I know of him. I am, one of those unambitious lawyers, who in the cool tranquility of a snug retreat, do a snug business among rich men's bonds, mortgages, and title-deeds. My original business was increased. In answer to my advertisement, for additional help, one morning a motionless young man stood upon my office threshold. It was Bartleby—pallidly neat, pitably respectable, incurably forlorn! At first, he seemed to gorge himself on my documents. As if long famishing for something to copy, he wrote on silently, palely, mechanically. It was on the third day, I think, of his being with me, a much hurried necessity arose to complete a small affair I had in hand... Lawyer. Bartleby! Come Here (stern)! Bartleby. I would prefer not to (gently). Lawyer. Bartleby! Come Here (stunned)! Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Prefer not to. What do you mean (excitedly)? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Bartleby! quick, I am waiting (agitated). Bartleby. What is wanted (mildly)? Lawyer. The copies, the copies! We are going to examine them! Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Why do you refuse (bewildered)? These are your own copies we are about to examine! Is it not labor saving to you,? Is it not so? Will you 37 not speak? Answer! Bartleby. (sung) When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste; time's waste- Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow, For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight. Lawyer. Bartleby, when those papers are all copied I will compare them with you. Ensemble—Lawyer & Clerks Lawyer Bartleby ? Bartleby (shouting)! Every copyist is bound to help examine his own copy. What do you think of this (annoyed—to Clerks)? {Lawyer singing Am I not right? I am! Clerk 1. With submission sir, I think that you are. Clerk 2. I think you should kick him out of the office (grit-tingly) Lawyer singing You hear what they say? Come forth and do your duty! {Clerk 1. I think I'll just step behind his screen and black his...(aside, hosile) Lawyer Sit down! Clerk 2. Prefer not, eh ? I'd give him preferences...(bitterly angry) Lawyer I'd prefer that you would withdraw for the present (to clerk 2). Clerk 1. But sir, if he would but prefer... Lawyer You will please withdraw (to clerk 1). Clerk 1. Oh, certainly sir, if you prefer that I should (submissively). Lawyer. You are decided, then, not to comply with my request (to Bartleby) Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. You will not? Bartleby. I prefer not. 38 Lawyer. Then, the time has come; you must quit this place; I am sorry for you; but you must go. Bartleby. I would prefer not to quit you. Lawyer. You must! Lawyer. Then, one of two things must take place. Either you must do something or something must be done to you. Now, what sort of business would you like to engage in? Would you like to re-engage in copying for someone else (snidely)? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Would you like to travel through the country collecting bills for merchants? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Would you like to travel, as a companion, entertaining someone with your conversation? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Would you like a clerkship in a dry-goods store? Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Stationary you shall be then! If you do not go away from these premises before night...(very angry) You must leave these premises before night. Good-bye Bartleby, I am going and may God, in some way, bless you. Lawyer exit. Bartleby. (sung) I would prefer, not to make any change, no— I would not like a clerkship. But I am not particular. I would prefer not to take a clerkship. I would not like it at all; though, as I said before, I am not particular. The next morning Lawyer. Bartleby, please come here? I am not going to ask you to do anything you would prefer not to do. I simply wish to speak with you. Will you tell me, Bartleby, When you were born? 39 Bartleby. I would prefer not to. Lawyer. Will you tell me anything about yourself? Bartleby. I am billeted upon you for the purpose of an all wise Providence. Lawyer. Is that why you prefer a window without a view? Bartleby. But It is a god knows its own path, and the outlets of the sky. Lawyer. Therefore, you will resume copying ? Bartleby. I have given up copying. Lawyer. I implore you, what is the reason? Bartleby. Do you not see the reason for yourself? Bartleby. (sung) Give all to love; Obey thy heart; Friends, Kindred, days, Estate, good-fame, Plans, credit and the Muse, Nothing refuse. Leave all for Love; Yet, hear me, yet, One word more thy heart behoved. One pulse more of firm endeavor, Keep the to-day, Tomorrow, forever, Heartily know, When half-gods go, The gods arrive. But it is a god, Knows its own path And the outlets of the sky. For those who's sky is darkened at an early age, From desiring this man's art and that man's scope, with untold intent they shall return, and from earth sing at heavens gate; still lit, they've found a path displayed to those who dwell in realms of day But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day 40 At the Tombs Lawyer. Bartleby (gently)? Bartleby. I know you. Lawyer. It was not I that brought you here, and to you, this should not be so vile a place. See, it is not so sad a place as one might think. Look, there is the sky, and here is the grass. Bartleby To see the world in a grain of sand, and a heaven in a wild flower, to hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. I know where I am. Lights fade to black End 
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work_iydq6fss4jbendqgftz3zotg5m	----	Antiquity V O L . X L V I I No. 186 J U N E 1973 Editorial PLATES XIIIU AND XXIII-IV It was a great pleasure, at long last, to see the Cardiff Giant in its present and (?)final resting-place in the Farmers’ Museum at Cooperstown, New York. Incidentally, the Farmers’ Museum itself is full of interest: it is run by the New York State Historical Asso- ciation, an educational, non-profit-makiig organization chartered in 1899 by the Board of Regents of the University of the State of New York. The Museum and the Village Crossroads reflect the life of ordinary people in r u i r a l New York between 1783 and the 1840s. Thomas Jefferson wrote that ‘the first object of young societies is bread and covering’. The fjirst two rooms of the Museum show the implements and possessions of the pioneer family, which were mostly handmade, and some of the methods by which a living was wrested from the wilderness. The work of the woodworker, the broom- maker, cooper, tinsmith, harnessmaker, c:obbler, spinner and weaver are all well shown, and around the Museum are reconstructed a country shop of 1820, a blacksmith’s shop of 1827, a printing shop of 1823, and a drugshop of 1832. The New York Historical Association has done in Cooperstown what others with more resources have done for an earlier colonial period at Colonial Williamsburg. It also owns Fenimore House, built in 19-32 by E. S. Clark on the site of a cottage once owned and occu- pied by James Fenimore Cooper. The Asso- ciation is administered from this building, which, with its remarkable and distinguished collection of American art, supplements and enriches the story told by artifacts in the Farmers’ Museum. This Museum is a must for anyone interested in historical archaeology, and therefore for any archaeologist, because it is only the misguided who think that archaeology is prehistory; it is the study of all the artifacts of our ancestors from the beginning to yesterday. But it is also the study of their pseudo-artifacts. We went to the Farmers’ Museum not only to see it as a brilliant historical-archaeological museum but to see the Giant. The Cardiff Giant was pur- chased by the New York State Historical Association a quarter of a century ago, and on 19 May 1948, eighty years after its conception, it was placed on view in the Museum. This ‘American belly laugh in stone’, as it is called by James Taylor Dunn in his ‘The True, Moral and Diverting Tale of the Cardiff Giant or the American Goliath‘ (a pamphlet reprinted from New York HistoryJ July 1948), began in 1866, and it is indeed a true, moral and diver- ting tale. The village of Cardiff lies in Upper New York State just south of Syracuse. It is in what Carl Carmer in his Listen for u lonesome drum (New York, 1936) calls the ‘broad psychic highway’, a narrow 300-mile strip across New York state which witnessed The End-of-the-World Millerites, Mother Ann Lee and the Shakers, the Publick Universal Friend Jemima Wilkinson, the Spirit Rappings of the FOX Sisters, and the discovery by Joseph Smith of The Tablets of Moroni. Upper New York State was ready for an exciting prehistoric discovery just as Minnesota was ready for the bogus petroglyph (see Antipity, 1958, 264-7). The affair began in 1866 when George Hull, a tobacco farmer and cigar maker from Bing- hamton, was visiting his sister in Ackley, Iowa. He got engaged in a heated argument with a nonconformist minister called Turk concerning 89 A N T I Q U I T Y the real meaning of the Biblical passage, ‘There were giants in the earth in those days’ (Genesis, vi, 4). Hull was a confirmed agnostic and Turk’s dogmatic acceptance of the truth of this phrase preyed on his mind. The more he thought about it all the crosser he got, and he resolved to manufacture a giant. He thought this would confound ridiculous religious enthusiasts and fundamentalists like Turk, but he also thought he might make a little money on the side. In June 1868 George Hull and an Iowa friend of his got to Fort Dodge, Iowa, and bought a block of gypsum 12 ft. by 4 ft. (3.6 by I-zm.) which they explained was going to be displayed in Washington as a specimen of the best building-stone in the world. The slab went to Edward Burkhardt, a stone cutter at 940 North Clark Street, Chicago. He and his two assistants carved it into a likeness of George Hull: the finished figure measures 10 ft. 4i in. (3-1m.) and weighed 2,990 pounds (c. 13,000 kg.). The figure was crated in an iron-strapped box marked ‘finished marble’ and shipped to Union, near Binghamton. From Union, teams of horses sweated to get it to Cardiff to the farm of William C. Newell, a relative of Hull’s. When questions were asked by curious farmers and inquisitive tavern keepers along the way, many answers were given but the general acceptance was that it was contraband tobacco and this accounted for all the secrecy of the operation. The Giant reached its destination, and by lantern light one dark November evening in 1868 it was buried in the field behind the barn of William C. Newell. The ground was seeded to clover and no more was heard until October of the following year when Newell told his men that he wanted to dig a well for his cattle, and told them where they should dig. A metre below the surface one of them struck some- thing hard: first a foot appeared and then the whole of the Cardiff Giant: one of the workmen said, ‘Jerusalem, it’s a big Injun!’ The Cardiff Giant was put on public display: the public thronged to ‘Giantville’. Hull and Newell rapidly made a fortune. A man from New York offered a hundred dollars for a flake from the body. The cow shed on the Newell farm was turned into an eating-place and signs like ‘Warm Meals-Oysters and Oats’ appeared everywhere. Two restaurants called ‘The Giant Saloon’ and ‘The Goliath House’ ministered to the crowds. We know what the crowds were viewing but what did they think they were viewing? They were divided between the view that they were seeing the remains of a petrified giant and the view that they were seeing a great work of ancient art, and while they were polarized thus, no one thought about a modern forgery. A prominent local clergyman said, ‘This is not a thing contrived of man, but is the face of one who lived on the earth, the very image and child of God.’ Dr John F. Boynton, a local lecturer, declared, however, that it was a statue of ‘Caucasian origin, and designed by the artist to perpetuate the memory of a great mind and noble deeds’. He thought it the work of early Jesuit priests, made to impress the Indians. Alexander McWhorter of Yale said it was the figure of the Phoenician god Baal, and claimed that he had found pictorial in- scriptions, which no one else could see, on its right arm; these he interpreted as Phoenician. Oliver Wendell Holmes bored a hole behind the Giant’s ear and observed marvellous anatomical detail, which no one else could see, and which was not there. Ralph Waldo Emerson was more cautious and fortunately less experimental : he contented himself with saying that it was ‘beyond his depth, very wonderful, and undoubtedly ancient’. Cyrus Cobb declared that any man who called the Giant a humbug ‘simply declared himself a fool’. But the Giant was a humbug and the world was fooled. George Hull published the true facts, but what is so fascinating is that the Cardiff Giant, having been proved a hoax, was still of great interest. Phineas T. Barnum offered 60,000 dollars for a three months’ lease of the Giant, and, when his offer was turned down, had an exact copy made. When the real Giant reached Broadway it had to com- pete with an already well-established copy made by Otto of Syracuse and exhibited by Barnum E D I T O R I A L in Woods’s Museum and Menagerie only two blocks away, and this is the origin of Mark Twain’s two entertaining short stories, ‘A ghost story’, and ‘The Capitoline Venus’ in his Sketches new and old (New York, 1875). Barnum advertised his fake as ‘The Original of all “Cardiff Giants’” and people thronged to see them both and to laugh at what had com- pletely hoodwinked so many alleged experts. The owners of the real Giant-the original hoax-tried without success to get an injunction to prevent the display of the imitatiion hoax. In the end the original Giant left New York, was exhibited in Boston (and this is when Oliver Wendell Holmes made his experiment), and then went into storage, emerging for a short appearance at the Pan-American Ex- position in Buffalo in 1901. In 1934 it made a transcontinental tour advertising the film The Mighty Barnum and appeared in the Iowa State Fair in 1935. What a good thing it has eventually come to rest! But its lesson is as simple as this: you can fool most of the people most of the time. We print here a photograph of the giant (PL. X I I I U ) , by kind permission of the New York State Historical Association. rTp The English Place-Name Society was founded in 1923 to carry out the Survey of English Place-Names, undertaken with the approval and encouragement of the British Academy. T h e Society publishes the results of the Survey county by county in a series of volumes which contain an explanation of the meaning and origin of the place-names (and even, for many counties, the field-names) in each part of England thus covered. T h e explanations define the source and date of the earliest extant record, and the linguistic, ethnic, historical, geographical and archaeolo- gical significance of each place-name, both in its immediate geographical and historical context and in a broader view. These volumes, published for the Society by the Ca:mbridge University Press, enjoy a world-wide repu- tation for sound scholarship and have become necessary equipment for both the amateur and professional historian, geographer, archaeolo- gist and philologist. They are also very useful for the information and entertainment of the casual reader. ANTIQUITY has been assiduous in reviewing the volumes of the Survey as they came out, and Crawford was keenly interested in place- names and archaeology. When the Survey of English Place-Names was initiated, Crawford wrote an article for the opening volume of the Survey publications entitled ‘Place-names and archaeology’, and, in the first volume of ANTIQUITY, published an article by Allen Mawer with the same title. We are delighted that C. W. Phillips has agreed to write for us an article with the same title to celebrate the first fifty years of the Survey, and this will be published later this year or early in 1974. In the current number of the Journal of the English Place-Name Society, the President, Professor Dorothy Whitelock, has contributed an article which deals with the history, im- portance and relevance of the work of the Society to date. It is a fascinating and illu- minating article. She reminds us that Isaac Taylor’s Words and Places was published as long ago as 1864 and while it naturally con- tained many false interpretations, yet foresaw how important place-name evidence might be for the historian. She quotes a reviewer of the Worcestershire volume in The T i m s Literary Supplement in 1927 who said, ‘Rightly viewed, the study of place-names has all the excitement of a detective story’, and Sir Maurice Powicke’s review of the Northamptonshire volume when he says, ‘The volumes. . . are books to be turned over again and again, to be savoured and sampled. They are full of exciting scholar- ship and of surprises’ (History, n.s., XIX, We have always thought that one of the most exciting surprises in this line is the entry for Baldock in the Hertfordshire volume, where we are told: This town was founded by the Knights Templars in the 12th century . . . Buldac is the Old French form for Baghdad (Ital. Baldacco) and Skeat rightly suggested that the place was named by the Templars after the Arabian city. Ekwall notes that Mandeville and Skelton call Baghdad, Baldak and Baldock. Any attempt to interpret ‘934s54-5). the final element as containing the word oak breaks down on the point that in the 12th century the form in Hertfordshire would clearly have been ok(e) not ak(e). Professor Whitelock’s account (JournaZ of the English Place-Name Society, v, 1972-3, 6-14) may be supplemented by Professor Bruce Dickins’s article, ‘The progress of English place-name studies since I~OI’, pub- lished in these pages (Antiquity, xxxv, 1961, 281-5). I n his 1927 A n t i p d y article Mawer emphasized the use of the survey in supplying archaeologists with evidence for the sites of burial-places, fortifications, watch-towers and meeting-places and for courses of roads, salt-ways and other tracks. Professor Barley has advised archaeologists to excavate at small settlements with names ending in burg (Medi- eval Archaeology, 111, 1959, 340-2) and stressed the immense body of raw material relating to medieval settlement after the Norman Con- quest that was provided by place-names, and Martin Biddle has recently suggested that field-names may preserve local traditions of the sites of former palaces (in ed. P. Clemoes and Kathleen Hughes, England before the Conquest : studies in primary sources presented to Dorothy Whitelock, Cambridge, 1971, 391-408). We congratulate the English Place-Name Society on its first fifty years and wish it well for the future. Although helped by a grant from the British Academy, the Society depends for the progress and success of itself and its Survey on the annual subscriptions of its members. Inquiries for membership are in- vited by The Hon. Director, English Place-Name Society, University of Nottingham, Nottingham NG7 2 R D . a Professor J. V. S. Megaw of the University of Leicester has started a Midlands Seminar in Archaeology. T h e first meeting was held in the Department of Archaeology at Leicester on 14 March. T h e subject was ‘Archaeology: how should it be taught or, indeed, should it be taught?’ and the discussion was opened by the Editor of ANTIQUITY. T h e meeting was well attended, the main body being representatives of the Universities of Birmingham, Nottingham, A N T I Q U I T Y 92 Oxford and Sheffield, as well as, of course, the host University of Leicester. Plans were laid for future meetings, and other points discussed were whether the Midlands Seminar might propose a Midlands venue for a future meeting of the reconstructed and London-based Semi- nar on Archaeology and related subjects, and what assistance the Midlands Seminar might be able to give the Council for British Archaeo- logy’s proposed Working Party on Publications. This Midlands Seminar promises to be a lively and worthwhile body. Those interested should write to Professor Megaw, Department of Archaeology, University of Leicester, Leicester LEI 7RH. a After the great success of the Tutan- khamun Exhibition in the British Museum, it is good to know that in the autumn of this year we shall have in London an exhibition of Chinese treasures. About a year ago rumours began to reach the West of a series of remark- able discoveries which Chinese archaeologists had been making during the period now known as the Cultural Revolution. Among the treasures the Chinese were said to have found were two strange, life-sized funerary suits made entirely of plates of jade sewn together. It seemed that these were discovered quite by chance behind a mysterious iron door in a mountainside: this door concealed a pair of royal tombs somewhat reminiscent of that of Tutankhamun. Another report spoke of a magnificent ‘flying’ or ‘galloping’ horse cast in bronze, one hoof poised on a swallow, also found in an ancient tomb. For a long time we in the West had to be content with fragmentary reports, gossip, and rumour. Then, last June, there appeared in Paris and London three magnificent books published in Peking containing photographs of the flying horse, the jade-suits and many other fantastic and exciting things. These books are in Chinese but the People’s Republic of China have, very wisely, produced an extensive version of these treasures in beauti- fully illustrated books in many languages. T h e large book in its English version is called Historical relics unearthed in New China: it is published by the Foreign Languages Press, E D I T O R I A L Peking, 1972, and its English price is E3.50. It contains 217 plates, at least two thirds of them in colour, and is a magnificent production which every library and museum must have. (The reproductions in the Chinese version are even better, but this costs E9.) For those who cannot afford the big book there is an excellent little book, also published by the Foreign Languages Press, Peking, called New archaeological finds in China. We saw a copy in the window of Collet’s Chinese bookshop in Great Russell Street and at once bought several copies: it is very cheap at the price of zop for a text of 54 pages and 12 colour plates. Collet’s also have for sale a series of 12 colour postcards entitled Cultural relics un- earthed in China for which they charge 15p. We reproduce here (PL. ~ ~ I I I ) , unfortunately in black-and-white, two of these postcards: the first is a gilded bronze ink-slab case of the Eastern Han dynasty (AD 25-220) and the second pottery figurines of acrobats and musi- cians of the Western Han dynasty (:lo6 BC- AD 24). We do not know whether these objects are coming to Paris and London but we also publish photographs of two objects that are coming (PL. xxrv). The first is the bronze ‘flying’ horse on a swallow from the Eastern Han dynasty (1st century AD), and the second part of the jade funerary suit made for Queen Tou of the Western Han dynasty about IOO BC. These illustrations, even in black-and-white, give a foretaste of the autumn Chinese treasures exhibition. It will contain nearly four hundred of China’s finest archaeological treasures from the Peking Palace Museum. T h e exhibition goes first to Paris and then will open in London inlate September in the rooms of the Royal Academy, Burlington House, Piccadilly, London. The choice of the Royal Academy as a venue is very appropriate: many of our readers will remember the famous Chinese exhibition there of 193516. This exhibition is being sponsored bg The Times, The Sunday Times and the Great Britain-China Committee, whose Chairman is Sir Harold Thompson. For further informa- tion write to Guy Pearse, Times Newspapers Limited, Printing House Square, London EQ. There also appeared in Europe and America last year copies of the two Chinese archaeo- logical journals, Wen Wu and K a o Gu, whose publication had only just been resumed after a gap of several years. They not only contained detailed accounts of the discoveries but also a list of radiocarbon dates from early China which are new to most of us. Professor Richard Pearson, of the University of British Columbia, drew our attention to these dates, and we publish them here, with his comments (pp. 141-3). In the next two numbers of ANTIQUITY we shall be publishing articles by Dr ChCng TC-Kun and Professor William Watson on some general aspects of Chinese archaeology. a We deliberately published D r David Clarke’s article ‘Archaeology: the loss of innocence’ (Antiquity, 1973,6-18) knowing that it would cause alarm and despondency among many. We commissioned it as a follow-up to the earlier articles by R. A. Watson (Antiquity, 1972, 210-15) and A. C. Hogarth ( A n t i p i t y , 1972, 301-4), and we have invited Professor C. F. C. Hawkes to continue this discussion and hope to publish his views in the September number. We thought it right and proper that the main British exponent of what is tiresomely called in America ‘the New Archaeology’, as if all archaeology was not moving to newness by discovery and interpretation every decade, should have his say, and set out his views. It was a personal statement and no one who has read Analytical Archaeology would have supposed that it would be written other than in the obscure jargon promoted by the Bin- fords. But we have been surprised by the vio- lence of the reaction to the article, and print three letters of considerable interest. T h e first is from D r Peter Salway who is now a Regional Director of the Open University, written on 9 March: I have much respect for Dr David CIarke as a practising archaeologist. Hence I am all the more horrified by his article ‘Archaeology: the loss of innocence’ in the March issue of Antiquity. Much of my own daily working information comes from systems analysts, data processers, social scientists and educational technologists. I find it requires no mental effort at all to write, 93 A N T I Q U I T Y for example, that in archaeology within certain parameters it is possible by deriving suitable structured questions from a model and trans- lating them into an algorithm for non-subject- sympathetic operators to process survey research field data and allocate it to type cells in a multi- dimensional matrix, provided that by raising coded signals one can retrieve comparative information on file in a suitable data-base system. It is extraordinary that D r Clarke should complain that specialists are ‘unconsciously raising barriers to communication between archaeologists’ and continue to write in the way he does. This misuse, not to say wilful disregard, of the English language is far more destructive. Indeed it is potentially fatal to archaeology. Communication between pro- fessionals becomes almost impossible. David Clarke’s actual points, when one can cut one’s way through to them, are valuable and already widely held (some, indeed, are not so new as they may appear wrapped up in this curious dialect). But they could easily be expressed in normal English, and there really is no reason why busy professionals should learn this new language. Indeed there is a real danger of separate (or do I mean discrete?) languages emerging, unintelligible between specialisms. T h e answer is not a new common jargon, since the worst danger is that the serious amateur with very limited time for his archaeology is likely to be baffled and repelled. This is a split many of us are anxious to avoid. Even worse, public understanding of archaeology is likely to decline into total incomprehension. Rescue and the multitude of local research committees were hardly founded for this. Dr Clarke would have done better in his second paragraph to talk not of ‘craft style’ but of ‘craft mystery’, for this is what it is. Mystifi- cation is a time-honoured method of keeping a profession exclusive, but it will do nothing to gain public support and informed participation in all the fields vital to archaeology today, particularly legislation and planning. If I may be permitted one trendy word (now sanctified by Government use), in the end it is not only a matter of saving the raw material of our ‘craft’, it is also a matter of enabling the public to under- stand the information they need to judge the issues affecting their own environment-or is it ‘quality of life-style’ ? T h e second letter is from the President of the Society of Antiquaries of London. Dr J. N. L. Myres writes : If David Clarke and his New Archaeologists are no longer Innocent, it follows that they must be Guilty. Guilty of what? Well, clearly of at least one unpardonable sin, an outrageous misuse of their mother tongue. If I understand aright the message of his article (and I have been at some distasteful pains to do so), the meaning behind twelve pages of tortuous gobbledygook can be stated in one simple sentence : Archaeologists now have access to more assistance of many kinds from other disciplines than was formerly the case, and, properly used, these aids are capable of adding greatly to our knowledge. These propositions are self-evident and it is not necessary to lose one’s innocence to appreciate their truth. To make a new archaeology out of them apparently requires the use (often the misuse) of three long words wherever one short one will do. So we are expected to live in a ‘metaphysical field space’, peopled by ‘paradigms’, ‘epistemologies’, ‘taxa’ (what language are they?), ‘postdictions’ and ‘theoretical hatracks’. It seems a great pity that the ‘doomed race of disciplinary dinosaurs’ (Dr Clarke’s one truly memorable phrase) who tried to teach him archaeology, did not use their blue pencils to better effect on his literally unspeakable prose. We agree with some of Dr Myres’s criti- cisms and believe that epistemologies and postdictions are unnecessary neologisms of the so-called new archaeologists. T h e word ‘para- digm’ is a trendy alternative for the perfectly good word ‘model’. But surely there is nothing mysterious or unusual about the words ‘taxon’ and ‘taxa’, which are back-formations from taxonomy, ‘the science, laws, or principles of classification’, and both words coming from the Greek taxis, meaning arrangement or order, Here is the definition of taxon in The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language (1969); ‘Biology. A group of organisms cons- tituting one of the categories or formal units in taxonomic classification, such as a phylum, order, family, genus or species, and character- ized by common characteristics in varying degrees of distinction.’ T o take an example from megalithic monuments: passage-graves, allges couvertes, entrance-graves, menhirs, 94 E D I T O R I A L portal-chambers, statue-menhirs, are all taxa. But if we defend some words we do not defend the spate of jargon of the Binford- Clarke school. We are reminded of what A. E. Housman said in his Leslie Stephen Lecture for 1933 entitled The name and nature of poetry: ‘When I hear anyone say, with defiant emphasis, that Pope was a poet, I suspect him of calling in ambiguity of language to promote confusion of thought.’ Aspiring archaeological Popes should ponder over Housman’s wise words. T h e third letter was from D r Graham Webster of the Department of Extramural Studies in the University of Birmingham. H e writes: Having made a serious effort to read David Clarke’s article without understanding hardly a word of it, I began to get very worrie’d. As an old fashioned practical excavator, was I begin- ning to lose my grip, or did I lack the intellec- tual ability to grasp the modem concept? So I gave it to a young student to read and tell me what it is about. She could not understand it either. So we are baffled. Perhaps it is not written in English at all, but some new kind of scientific language which uses some English words . . . . It is possible that the article applies only to Prehistoric Archaeology. If this is so, it is unfortunate that a gulf is being created between practitioners on the same subject in different periods. This lack of communication could lead to serious consequences, so would it not be desirable for at least a summaq of such important papers to be translated into English for the benefit of those concerned with the post- prehistoric periods ? We asked D r David Clarke if he would like to comment on the letters from Salway, Myres and Webster but he said his comments could be found in his ,review of the Newell-Vroomans book which we print in this issue (pp. 158-60). We wonder whether his critics will be satisfied with this answer, and we sometimes wonder whether the Binfords and Clarkes of this world realize they write in gobbledygook gibberish? T h e OED tells us that the word ‘gobbledygook’ was invented by Maury Mave- rick of Texas and means ‘official verbiage or jargon’; the gobble part is, of course, talking turkey, and the gook, we learn elsewhere, may come from the Scottish gowk, a simpleton, or the Middle English g m k e , a cuckoo. Certainly and fortunately the Binford-Clarke jargon is not the official verbiage of archaeology. Let us hope it may never become so. As for us, we have happily put down our blue pencil, said to hell with these gibbering turkeys and cuckoos, and are away across the road for a large stein of Stella Artois. a We hear with regret that Miss Beatrice de Cardi is retiring from the Secretaryship of the Council for British Archaeology at the end of November this year. We hope that it will be possible to find a worthy successor: the post is now being advertised as Director/Secretary at the salary level of a Senior Lecturer in a university. It really ought to be at an even higher level-that higher level at which Miss de Cardi has served the CBA for so many years with such devotion and distinction. It is rare to find persons who combine admini- strative ability with scholarship : Beatrice de Cardi was such a rarity, and her retirement is a sad loss-but not, happily, a loss to scholar- ship. Someone should give her the money to spend three months each year in the Persian Gulf to pursue those important researches that ANTIQUITY has been privileged to publish from time to time. Is not your voice broken? . . and every part about you blasted with Antiquity? 2 Hen. IV Rejuvenate yourself with a book from H d e r s : the bookshop at 20 Trinity Street, Cambridge 95 heffers: P L A T E X I I I a : E D I T O R I A L . The (Cardisf Giant transported to the Farmers' Museum, Cooperstown See pp. 89-90 Photo : A'ezo Yovk State Histovical Association b P L A T E X I I I b : T H E L O C H H I L L L O N G C A I R N . Stone faGade and cairn, from N See pp. 96-100 Photo: Iione! Masters P L A T E X X I I I : E D I T O R I A L ( a ) Gilded bronze ink-slab case, Eastern Han dynasty ( A D 25-220) ; ( b ) pottery3guvines of acrobats and musicians, Western H a n dynasty (206 HC-AD 2 4 ) See pp. 92-3 Photo, : Fog eign La??guages P y e s r , Peking PI. A T E s s I v : E D I T o R I A J, ( a ) Bronze f m n ( I tomb of the Eastern Han Dynasty (1st century A D ) : agalloping horse 'jlying' on a swallow. Excavated at Wu-wei, K a n Su Prozince, 1969. H t : 34.5 cm. ; length : 45 cm. ( b ) From a tomb of the Western Han Dynasty at kfan-cla 'eng in Hopei Province c . I O O RC :jade funerary suit made for Tou, Queen of Liu Sheng, excavated in 1968. Length : 172 cm. SeF P P . 92-3 Photos. D w r d U'i f l y , c o p y t q h t Time, .Veencspapers 
work_iz2mvk4co5hwxmaih5laaoga2q	----	49Clarence W. Joldersma doi: 10.47925/76.4.049 PHILOSOPHY OF EDUCATION | Heather Greenhalgh-Spencer, editor © 2021 Philosophy of Education Society Echoes of the Coming Kingdom of God on Earth in America: The Religious Animation of Sarah Stitzlein’s Hopeful Hope in Democracy Clarence W. Joldersma Calvin University Stitzlein’s insightful and compelling book, Learning How to Hope, begins with “[h]ope is at the heart of democracy.”1 This radical idea has great promise for American society, which alone makes the book worth reading. She suggests teaching habits of hope to motivate citizens towards possibility, improving their own lives and that of others. Schooling should be directed towards citizenship, teaching hope “aimed at sustaining and improving democracy.”2 Her idea of citizenship is broad. Not just a legal status in a country which offers political rights and responsibilities, citizenship is a social/political identity connected to public practices. Habits of hope are not enacted in individuals pursuing personal goals of individual well-being, but rather towards public good in the social and political realm. In short, Stitzlein’s book addresses “the role hope plays in democracy and how it might be fostered in schools and civil society.”3 But what form of hope is at the heart of her vision of democracy? Stit- zlein embraces a pragmatist form of hope, a Deweyan inspired hope for a robust democracy—living well together, associatively. It is “a hope that is related to our experiences and our agency (our ability to participate in and impact democratic life).”4 This is an active sense of hoping, embodied in taking responsibility for shaping our lives together. It is tied to the well-being of communities, bringing them together to solve common problems. Stitzlein contrasts her pragmatist hope with hope “tied to faith in God.”5 For her, in formal religions “[t]heolo- gians tend to locate hope in an individual’s faith in a deity who will act on his or her behalf,” where the “desire for a better future…is then allocated based on 50 the faith, belief, and/or practices of the individual, depending on his religious affiliation.”6 She depicts religious approaches as depreciating human agency and fostering passivity, and suggests they are inadequate to animate democracy. She summarizes, “[r]ather than a religious faith, which entails an adherence to God or ideology, pragmatists exhibit faith by being willing to try out ideas and to pursue desired ends even in the face of uncertainty or difficulty.”7 Stitzlein’s contrast with religion echoes Dewey’s distinction in A Common Faith between “religion” (noun) and “religious” (adjective). Religion for Dewey “signifies a special body of beliefs and practices having some kind of institutional organization,” i.e., settled doctrines specifying the parameters of organized religion.8 By contrast, religious for Dewey is a spirit moving beyond the actual into what is possible, as if “[a]n unseen power controlling our destiny becomes the power of an ideal.”9 The religious has a “comprehensiveness and intensity” and “[l]ives . . . are consciously inspired by loyalty to such ideas.”10 Dewey’s idea of religious (adjective) evidently drew on his own religious tradition of Calvinist congregationalism. Dewey’s pastor at First Congregational Church, Lewis Brastow, emphasized “intelligence and social action . . . and reconstruction.”11 Brastow explained, “[o]ne should rise to ‘spiritual manhood’ [but] the rescue and reconstruction are not wholly of individual men in their isolation from their fellows, but of men in their associate life . . . No man ever finds completeness in himself . . . only in our associate life. Men must be won to a common life.”12 Dewey says “[t]he actual religious quality in the experience described is the effect produced, the better adjustment in life and its conditions . . . The way in which the experience operated, its function, determines its re- ligious value. If the reorientation actually occurs, it, and the sense of security and stability accompanying it, are forces on their own account.”13 For Dewey the religious nature of the experience is in its trajectory, a force towards “better adjustment” in living together. Rather than mere accommodation, it is adjustment that signals the experience as religious. What makes it a religious experience is its reorienting power, towards collective security and stability and peace. It also implies an inner change that accompanies a social change. Precisely when this sort of change of attitude occurs, it is a religious change, especially when it 51 “appropriates a person’s life as a whole.”14 The person as a whole self is imagi- natively projected into the ideal of harmonizing with society in associative living. The religious thus involves, Dewey says, “the unity of all ideal ends arousing us to desire and [to] actions.”15 Dewey’s idea of the religious (adjective) has obvious parallels with Brastow’s Calvinist congregationalism. Stitzlein’s pragmatist hope clearly contrasts with what Dewey calls religion (noun). But does it contrast with what he calls religious (adjective)? She invokes Cornel West, someone situated in the pragmatist tradition who brings explicitly religious sentiments into play to encourage agency for change.16 Stitzlein refer- ences West’s idea of meliorism, explaining that “[West’s] meliorism is driven by virtues that enable one to flourish as one faces despair, a drive ‘to try to keep struggling for more love, more justice, more freedom, and more democracy.’”17 She cautions that West isn’t drawing on his religion, for his “prophetic, blues hope is bolstered by habits of courage and Christian love, which is focused less on a savior figure and more on how people can support each other.”18 Perhaps not his religion (noun). However, West’s prophetic pragmatism is self-identified as an “Afro-American revolutionary Christian perspective.”19 West characterizes his prophetic stance religiously, as involving “distinctive Christian conceptions of what it is to be human, how we should act towards one another and what we should hope for.”20 His identification with what he calls the downtrodden involves a “moral vision and ethical norms . . . derived from the prophetic Christian tradition. I follow the biblical injunction to look at the world through the eyes of its victims.”21 His hope is rooted in “the good news of Jesus Christ, which lures and links human struggles to the coming of the kingdom,” the hope which he believes wards off despair and disap- pointment.22 West’s pragmatism is animated by a religious spirit, in Dewey’s adjective sense, where the Christian narrative is “stripped of its static dogmas and decrepit doctrines” while animating “political engagement.”23 However, West’s religious spirit still includes the “truth” of “the Reality of Jesus Christ” which “encourages the putting of oneself on the line.”24 West states that “the resurrection claim essentially refers to the inauguration of a new future, a future that promises redemption and deliverance.”25 West’s religious (adjective) spirit 52 draws on his religion (noun) to animate political actions of the sort Stitzlein values and connects to authentic democracy. West’s pragmatism isn’t an outlier. The Chicago school of pragma- tism—Dewey, Mead, Tufts, Addams—has a similar religious spirit.26 Tröhler argues that American Protestantism and the pragmatist idea of democracy are intimately connected, that “the ultimate aim of Protestantism (and, by exten- sion, Pragmatism) . . . was to build the kingdom of God on earth.”27 Without the doctrinal trappings associated with particular organized denominations in America, these pragmatists drew this decidedly religious sentiment from “the work of authors such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and especially Walt Whitman.”28 Tröhler quotes Dewey as drawing on Whitman especially for “[h]is philosophy of democracy and its relation to religion.”29 The religious vision of “establishing God’s kingdom on earth” was thought to embody particularly “an emphasis on mutual communication as a prerequisite for democratic decision making.”30 As a result, argues Tröhler, Dewey and the Chicago school thought of themselves as academics whose primary goal was “social justice guided by a spirit of democratic Protestantism.”31 In particular, influenced by Whitman and others, for Dewey and the Chicago school “the teaching of salvation was seen as the prerequisite to thinking and acting.”32 This was not, Tröhler makes clear, a concern with settled dogmas and doctrines, but with a religious (adjective) spirit. Nevertheless, for the Chicago pragmatists “[t]he goal of realizing the message of salvation required adjusting politics and education to these conditions in order to respond to them, where adjustment is an active process that requires targeted action.”33 Although not a fixation on dogma, this religious spirit was not devoid of doctrine either. The activities of intelligent cooperation and changing society, moving in the direction of becoming more democratic were not only religious in spirit, but echoed the protestant doctrine of salvation. This echo of salvation included particular religious public roles for humans. In Mead’s words, “Christianity was an infallible motive for an active life, ‘which raises every man to become a King and Priest.’”34 The Calvinist doctrines of the priesthood and kingship of all believers echoed within pragmatism. It lifted up everyday actions of doing good 53Clarence W. Joldersma doi: 10.47925/76.4.049 and looking out for others to be a priestly function, and it lifted up the everyday mutual and active governance to be a kingly function, each mimicking Christ’s priestly and kingly functions. This allowed Mead and the other pragmatists to envision even small everyday actions for change as part of the religious trajec- tory of moving towards a better society. The trajectory of religious progress uncovered “the idea of a true community of interests” as normative, allowing a contrast with personal individual interests. It meant that “a true community of interests” was involved in moving society towards the “realization of the kingdom of God.”35 Although Protestantism as a religious spirit rather than settled dogma was the animating pulse of pragmatism, formal doctrines were nevertheless operative in that spirit. So when Mead states, “[t]he centering of our interest upon riches that pass away involves the absence of all ‘treasure in the Kingdom of Heaven.’ For where your treasure is there will your heart be also [Matthew 6:21],” he’s urging people to put their heart in building the kingdom of God here on earth.36 This was connected to the early American theology of millennialism, Christ’s reign over a kingdom on earth in which it was assumed that “Amer- ica was the kingdom of God.”37 Early America was dominated by views of a 1000-year reign of Christ at the end of time: “[t]he millennial theme was pervasive in [American] religion, where ministers promised millennial states that ranged from the literal heavenly kingdoms of the Calvinist conservatives to the metaphorical earthly states of the dissenters and deists.”38 The idea of millennialism, which had at least two major variations—premillennialism and postmillennialism—meant that what in Christian doctrine was termed “the king- dom of God” was going to occur at a particular location on earth at some time in history. For some—the premilliannials—this was believed to be preceded by a feared apocalyptic war and condemnatory judgment, before Christ would reign in peace and make all well. For others—the postmillennials—Christ’s reign on earth was going to happen after an age (millennium) in which Christians paved the way for that coming. In post-millennium doctrine, human action would Christianize culture, preparing a receptive earth for Christ’s return and reign. Both pre- and post-millennialism played central roles in the self-understanding Echoes of the Coming Kingdom of God on Earth in America54 Volume 76 Isuue 4 of America. In both versions, America was thought to be the place where that kingdom of God was going to occur on earth. In the postmillennial version, “[t]hese political prophets assumed that the founding would usher in a new era of republican peace and happiness. They called this political heaven-on-earth the ‘political millennium.’”39 Among the nations, America was an exceptional country precisely because it was going to be the geographic location where God’s kingdom would come down to earth. Although using markedly different language, and written in a different time, I’m struck by how Stitzlein’s depiction of democracy, and her urging America to engage in a pragmatist hope, echoes not only the Chicago school’s religious spirit but also postmillennialist theological doctrine. Not apocalyptic or dogmatic, her form of hope nevertheless embodies the spirit of the hope- ful hope of postmillennialism. Just like postmillennialists, her hopeful hope is tied up with America as a way of life, a combination of vision and action in America for America. She approvingly quotes pragmatist Colin Koopman, “America, like pragmatism, is an emblematic vision of hope.”40 This phrasing suggests that America is an exceptional nation in its serving as a symbol of hope. Further, Stitzlein suggests that pragmatism involves a profound social imaginary about “how we understood ourselves, our relation to each other, and our role in the world.”41 The “us” here is consistently “us Americans” and the place that we are living is consistently “America.” She references Thomas Paine, who envisioned “a common cause and a new utopian nation,” rooted in a religiously based exceptionalism: “America was God’s country of the future.”42 Of all the countries, it is America that is God’s country; America isn’t just a secular country, but God’s country; and, it isn’t America’s present, but its future, that is being imagined. In this social imaginary, “being an American meant building social and political life anew.”43 The content of Stitzlein’s pragmatist hope is American democracy. She states, “[t]he content of such hoping comes to compose a vision of our shared life together within American democracy, one that springs from the people and is enacted by them, and one that is, importantly, revisable.”44 This echoes not only Paine’s exceptionalism but also Mead’s “true community of 55Clarence W. Joldersma doi: 10.47925/76.4.049 interests” that could move society towards the “realization of the kingdom of God.”45 Stitzlein’s idea of our shared life together in democracy, her broadest form of hope, is connected to a specific nation, America. It is America in the future, in which the shared life together involves “the flourishing of American people.”46 She suggests, “[s]hared objects and objectives of hope may help us build a new conception of America that we can rally around—a sense of who we are and what we stand for that we can take pride in, defend, and advance.”47 This is future-oriented vision of America is one in which more people will feel at home and thrive. Stitzlein’s hopeful hope for democracy echoes postmillen- nialism’s American exceptionalism, that America is (on its way to) the kingdom of God on earth. As stated earlier, central to Stitzlein’s form of hope is meliorism. She quotes Dewey in this context, who describes meliorism as “the idea that at least there is a sufficient basis of goodness in life and its conditions so that by thought and earnest effort we may constantly make things better.”48 But meliorism is central to postmillennialism, which embraces preparation for the Kingdom of God through steady progress of social improvement: “the future depended on the power of steady perseverance,” preparing a path “for the universal reign of the Prince of peace.”49 Postmillennialism centered on humans enacting such meliorative preparation: “the application of human action held out the possibility of incremental progress.”50 The Kingdom of God would be “ushered in by human means.”51 America could bring about its own status as Christ’s kingdom on earth by its own collective incremental effort of associative living. Stitzlein similarly emphasizes a future-directed meliorism, “a belief in the agency of people, trusting that they can have significant impact on the world.”52 Stitzlein’s meliorism is connected to her idea of hope in a robust democ- racy. Democracy is a radical way of living together, associative living. Stitzlein quotes Colin Koopman, “[d]emocracy is the simple idea that political and ethical progress hinges on nothing more than persons, their values, and their actions.”53 She states explicitly that this spirit of democracy, present in America from its founding, lingers to this very day. Central to democracy is the impulse “to create a new and better nation and world,” and “meliorism fits well with democracy Echoes of the Coming Kingdom of God on Earth in America56 Volume 76 Isuue 4 1 Sarah M. Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope: Reviving Democracy through Our Schools and Civil Society (Oxford University Press, 2020), 1, https://www. oxfordscholarship.com/view/10.1093/oso/9780190062651.001.0001/oso- 9780190062651. 2 Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope, 3. 3 Stitzlein, 17. 4 Stitzlein, 3. 5 Stitzlein, 17. 6 Stitzlein, 17 & 21. 7 Stitzlein, 22. 8 John Dewey, A Common Faith (Yale University Press, 1936), 9. 9 Dewey, A Common Faith, 23. 10 Dewey, 27. 11 Siebren Miedema, “Heart and Reason: A Comparison of John Dewey’s as a way of life where our hopes can be nurtured together.”54 Meliorism as a belief in the improvability of the nation is not local and particular but general and national. She quotes Koopman to show that essential to America is such hope-embodied meliorism: “a loss of hope is a loss of America itself.”55 For Stitzlein, the hopeful impulse to create a new and better nation is the animating heartbeat of America itself. She argues that America’s history shows us becom- ing “more just and freer over time,” that despite significant exceptions, “the overall trend of progress.”56 This resonates with the long tradition of religiously hopeful meliorism that comprises postmillennialist thought in America, the re- ligiously-inflected idea of working together towards perfection by slow degrees. Stitzlein’s hopeful hope in democracy echoes the religious spirit of hope in the coming of the kingdom of God to earth in America. 57Clarence W. Joldersma doi: 10.47925/76.4.049 A Common Faith and His ‘Religious’ Poems,” Religious Education 105, no. 2 (2010): 178, https://doi.org/10.1080/00344081003645178. 12 Quoted in Miedema, 178. 13 Quoted in Miedema, 183. 14 Quoted in Miedema, 184. 15 Quoted in Miedema, 185. 16 Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope, 34, 53–54. 17 Stitzlein, 54. 18 Stitzlein, 54. 19 Mark David Wood, Cornel West and the Politics of Prophetic Pragmatism (University of Illinois Press, 2000), 2.revolutionary socialist stance to a later, progressive reformist one. Wood shows how West’s subsequent reworking of Marxism supports his transition from a socialist to a pro- gressivist politics.\”--BOOK JACKET.”,”ISBN”:”978-0-252-02578- 5”,”language”:”en”,”note”:”Google-Books-ID: RVdQ0mhiapUC”,”num- ber-of-pages”:”264”,”publisher”:”University of Illinois Press”,”source”:”- Google Books”,”title”:”Cornel West and the Politics of Prophetic Pragma- tism”,”author”:[{“family”:”Wood”,”given”:”Mark David”}],”issued”:{“- date-parts”:[[“2000”]]}},”locator”:”2”}],”schema”:”https://github.com/ citation-style-language/schema/raw/master/csl-citation.json”} 20 Cornel West, The Cornel West Reader (New York and Great Britain: Civitas Books, 1999), 13. 21 West, The Cornel West Reader, 370. 22 West, 14. 23 West, 177. Echoes of the Coming Kingdom of God on Earth in America58 Volume 76 Isuue 4 24 West, 419. 25 West, 419. 26 Daniel Tröhler, “The ‘Kingdom of God on Earth’ and Early Chica- go Pragmatism,” Educational Theory 56, no. 1 (February 1, 2006): 89–105, https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1741-5446.2006.00005.x. 27 Tröhler, “The ‘Kingdom of God on Earth’ and Early Chicago Pragma- tism,” 93. 28 Tröhler, 94. 29 Tröhler, 95. 30 Tröhler, 95. 31 Tröhler, 97. 32 Tröhler, 99. 33 Tröhler, 100. 34 Quoted in Tröhler, 100. 35 Tröhler, 102. 36 Quoted in Tröhler, 101. 37 Tröhler, 94. 38 Michael Lienesch, “The Role of Political Millennialism in Early American Nationalism,” The Western Political Quarterly 36, no. 3 (1983): 446, https://doi. org/10.2307/448402. 39 Lienesch, “The Role of Political Millennialism in Early American Nation- alism,” 446. 40 Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope, 25. 41 Stitzlein, 24. 42 Stitzlein, 23 (emphasis added). 59Clarence W. Joldersma doi: 10.47925/76.4.049 43 Stitzlein, 23. 44 Stitzlein, 66. 45 Tröhler, “The ‘Kingdom of God on Earth’ and Early Chicago Pragma- tism,” 102. 46 Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope, 67. 47 Stitzlein, 69. 48 Stitzlein, 33. 49 Lienesch, “The Role of Political Millennialism in Early American Nation- alism,” 448-458. 50 Lienesch, 458. 51 Lienesch, 458. 52 Stitzlein, Learning How to Hope, 36. 53 Stitzlein, 37. 54 Stitzlein, 36-37. 55 Stitzlein, 37. 56 Stitzlein, 33. 
work_izrsn2w575gc7c2hddwkbeapau	----	Main Body - 40(1) 1 Thad M. Van Bueren Sarah A. Tarlow The Interpretive Potential of Utopian Settlements “Every daring attempt to make a great change in existing conditions, every lofty vision of new possibilities for the human race, has been labeled ‘Utopian.’” —Emma Goldman Introduction The term utopia was fi rst coined by Thomas More in 1516 as a reference to an ideal place that does not really exist. The designation utopian has increasingly grown to encompass the efforts of real people pursuing visionary alternative lifestyles. It is in this latter sense that the term is employed here. Utopianism may be manifest as a fi ctional genre, a political philosophy, or, as in this volume, an attempt to create an ideal society. All utopian visionaries are critical of what is perceived as the fl awed dominant cultural pattern, and they articulate that critique by modeling an ideal alternative. Utopian settlements have long intrigued schol- ars and the public. Their alternative lifestyles are subjects of great curiosity or even derision, and much has been written about them by pro- ponents, detractors, and interested observers. All settlements were founded on at least two fundamental precepts. The fi rst was dissatisfac- tion with some aspect of the dominant culture. That dissatisfaction had a variety of sources rooted in industrial capitalism, urbanization, religious dissent, gender inequality, and other factors. The second ingredient was an idealis- tic faith that a better way of life was possible. This faith spurred the creation of hundreds of bold social experiments that are interesting for what they reveal about human nature, adapt- ability, and processes of social change. Beyond those common threads, utopian settlements were notably diverse in philosophy, organization, and way of life. This volume focuses on several utopian and quasi-utopian communities founded on the North American continent between the 1790s and 1910s. Some articles in this volume evolved from papers presented at a symposium entitled “Dissenting Voices: Comparing the Visions and Realities of Life in Utopian Communities,” held at the 2001 annual meeting of The Soci- ety for Historical Archaeology in Long Beach, California. Other articles were contributed by scholars pursuing archaeological studies at other utopian settlements. All of those studies have been energized by similar issues and challenges. A synopsis of the utopian movement in North America is provided here to introduce the common ground linking recent archaeological studies of such places. Utopian Imagination North America has attracted communitarian ventures from the earliest period of European colonization. The first communal endeavors were founded by sectarian groups seeking refuge in isolation. From those early roots, a tradition of idealistic social reform has grown and even become embedded in the political culture of the region. Successive waves of utopian enthusiasm have periodically captured the public imagination since that time. The most noteworthy surges of interest in utopian settlements occurred in the 1790s, 1840s, around the turn of the 20th cen- tury, and most recently during the 1960s and 1970s (Hayden 1976:8–13). As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote during one such episode in the mid-19th century, there was “not a reading man but has a draft of a new community in his waistcoat pocket” (Rush 1939:353). Disaffected utopian groups were attracted to the New World in part because of its position on the periphery of the known European world. The significance of the Western frontier as a locus for utopian settlement was widely rec- ognized by early reformers (Considerant 1854) and has been explored by contemporary scholars such as P. Porter and F. Lukermann (1976). An important draw was the vast, untamed wilder- ness where large, inexpensive, or free tracts of land were available, and new beginnings could be made. There, unfettered by the constraints of a dominant culture and situated in a social Historical Archaeology, 2006, 40(1):1–5. Permission to reprint required. 2 HISTORICAL ARCHAEOLOGY 40(1) climate of diversity and relative tolerance, new forms of social organization could be established to improve upon or correct the shortcomings of the European or, later, the developing North American worlds. In many cases, the American wilderness was also envisioned as an earthly paradise. By demonstrating the benefi ts of such ideal forms of social organization, many utopians believed their communities would be emulated and eventually replicated across the globe. As creative responses to unsatisfactory aspects of the dominant culture, all utopian ventures were acts of social resistance that explicitly criticized dominant group values and practices. Conditions associated with the growth of industrial capitalism, social and religious per- secution, gender inequality, and rejection of the divine authority of the clergy were key issues spurring the creation of many 19th- and early- 20th-century North American utopias. Utopi- ans found fault not only with conditions such as poverty, exploitation, inequality, and confl ict but also the beliefs considered responsible for such social ills. For example, many utopians expressly rejected the notion that business and morality were separate—a philosophy capitalists and the clergy promoted as a means to absolve themselves of responsibility for the suffering of the lower classes (Fine 1978). Each utopian community took a different view on which problems and root causes were most signifi cant. Competition, attachment to material goods, the divine authority of the church, exploitation, labor segmentation, sexual inequality, exploitative relations of production, immorality, and social discord were among the most important issues debated by utopians. The relative importance of these different social ills in turn infl uenced the ideological direction each group pursued. The communes examined in this volume span a continuum from those empha- sizing religious values (Dukhobors, Quakers, Theosophists, and the Koreshan Unity Settle- ment) to communities that paid greater atten- tion to secular solutions (Brook Farm, Feltville, and Llano del Rio). All were in fact strongly moralistic, and indeed many of the ostensibly secular ventures were embedded in a tradition of Christian ethical thought. As social experiments, utopian communities are provocative, dissident, and even inspirational. This ability to provoke and inspire resides in the way they challenged mainstream values and explored social limits. Whether utopians sought isolation or close interaction with the outside world, they invariably incited debate between their proponents and detractors. For that reason, the lives of utopians are often among the most heavily scrutinized and documented of any modern group. So much has been written and said about most utopian communities that a fundamental issue for archaeology is the nature of the contribution archaeologists hope to make in the face of some fairly pithy existing inter- pretations. Is archaeology in such cases merely a redundant enterprise or can signifi cant insights still be made? Common Challenges Despite a fair amount of existing historical documentation, there is little doubt that archae- ology can offer a variety of important new insights regarding utopian communities. Those contributions stem from fundamental interest in how the material and historical records compare, from a diachronic perspective, and from evolving scholarly dialogs about what is worth interpret- ing and how those stories get told. Even years after they were abandoned, utopian communi- ties remain compelling precisely because they continue to be challenging. Their outspoken agendas effectively make researchers confront their own agendas. Their struggles and last- ing infl uence on mainstream culture continue to engage archaeologists in a critical examination of their own practices and motivations. The most straightforward archaeological contribution to utopian scholarship involves fi lling gaps in the historical record. Despite the depth of the historical record for many utopian communities, there remain some noteworthy lacunae. Material remains often constitute the only record of certain activities considered too mundane or unbecoming to have been recorded. Yet such details are valuable because they may provide an unedited perspective on how utopian visions played out in daily life and decision making. By reading the material record at scales varying from focused activities to entire landscapes, new insights have been made concerning the working assumptions, lifestyles, social dynamics, and developmental history of utopian communities. Examples 3THAD M. VAN BUEREN AND SARAH A. TARLOW—The Interpretive Potential of Utopian Settlements of such contributions in this volume include an exploration of the relationship between Theosophical Society dietary and medical practices and worldview (Van Wormer and Gross), an exploration of class segmentation as an organizing principle in the engineered quasi- utopian settlement of Feltville (Tomaso et al.), and the ideological implications of landscapes at Brook Farm (Preucel and Pendery), the Koreshan Unity Settlement (Tarlow), and the Llano del Rio Cooperative (Van Bueren). Archaeological contributions do more than simply fi ll holes in the historical record. When material evidence and documentary evidence are compared, resulting interpretations go deeper than either source on its own. Comparisons provide the basis for exploring ideological contradictions and testing one set of evidence against another. As provocateurs, the lives of utopian communards have always been heavily examined. The documentary and spoken records of such communities are typically charged with biases from within and without. The concept of “spin” was perhaps born in debates over such alternative lifestyles. For that very reason, the records are often replete with discrepancies and subject to purposeful distortion of one kind or another. By comparing the historical and archaeological records researchers can seek to understand the multiple ways in which utopian communities were experienced, presented, and discussed (both materially and discursively), forging integrated understandings of those communities. The disparity between the archaeological record and what people wrote or said about themselves (or others) is profoundly intriguing; however, it involves special challenges and responsibilities. The challenge lies in how the information gath- ered is interpreted. The point of exposing dis- crepancies between aspiration and practice should not be to produce a mere catalog of human frailty and imperfection. Instead, it is the responsibility of researchers to respect and study the lives of utopian communards with honesty, accuracy, and a good dose of empathy, interpreting the artifacts, buildings, and trash pits of communards within the context of their lived experiences, struggles, and bold experimentation. A central concern in this ethical deliberation is the researcher’s own interpretive orientation. The history of many utopian communities has been sanitized, narrowed, or dismissed in a way that makes it palatable to dominant groups (Leone 1981; Tarlow, this volume). For example, the idea that such communities were “failures” is one way dominant groups have dismissed utopian contributions and overlooked their enduring influences (Pitzer 1989). Communities have also been trivialized by focusing solely on their appealing and unthreatening aspects. Clearly, historical archaeologists have important roles to play not only correcting such inaccuracies but also honestly appraising research agendas. As authors, we wonder how researchers can make utopian struggles real with full acknowl- edgment of their humanity without becoming either apologists or judges? To gain deep insights into the lives of utopian communards, there is no substitute for diving deeply into their visions and struggles. If communards exist as mere objects of detached curiosity, as eccentric others, researchers may not be able to speak responsibly for them. We as archaeologists may not be the utopians studied, but they must in some sense get “under our skin” if justice is to be done to their radical legacy and interpreta- tion made of their struggles and contradictions. Their proactive resistance to mainstream values and their fundamental idealism must animate interpretations, for utopians sought to challenge, to teach by example, to try brave new ways of living. Their success must be recast in terms of their ongoing ability to teach, provoke, and offer divergent alternatives to the status quo. Fortunately, there are few places where the relationships among ideology, symbolism, and cultural material are more blatant. Utopian communities were governed by explicit ideo- logical tenets that had a pervasive influence on how they manipulated the material world. While ideology underlies all human behavior, the tenets of alternative communities were far more consciously in the foreground than those of the dominant culture. Many aspects of dominant-culture behavior are motivated by what Clifford Geertz (1983:73–93) calls “common sense”—assumptions that do not even rise to a fully conscious level. In contrast, utopian behaviors and belief systems were more delib- erately constructed. They departed from societal norms and were very consciously chosen, tested, and sometimes changed—often daily. Utopians lived what may well be called “the examined 4 HISTORICAL ARCHAEOLOGY 40(1) life,” and their deliberation imbued even many mundane facets of communal behavior with symbolic signifi cance. At the same time, the communards’ “odd” behaviors also beg for more critical scrutiny of society’s own “common sense” practices. The role played by symbolism in the con- struction of a common vision has considerable interest and is quite susceptible to archaeological analysis. Utopian groups focused great energy on defining and portraying their worldviews. The architecture of each community was often highly symbolic and related directly to the way community values were defi ned. For example, group housing and circular community designs were frequently used to convey principles of shared life, cooperation, and equality. It was common to equate utopian settlements with an earthly Eden, and exalted settings were often chosen. This included in some cases a phi- losophy of the body as a temple that should be honored by particular health practices and diet (Van Wormer and Gross, this volume). All utopian ventures had some belief in com- munitarian values, but the way those beliefs were put in operation varied considerably. Some groups like the Oneida Perfectionists required a high level of community sharing and afforded little privacy, while others retained the private individual or nuclear family as a key building block of their new social order. The Oneida Perfectionists used a redefi ned “family,” detached from any reproductive function, as the controlling metaphor of communal association. While democratic models of cooperation were fairly common among utopians, some groups had more authoritarian or paternalistic power structures based on the visions of inspired leaders. Feltville (Tomaso et al., this volume), the Oneida Perfectionists (H. Van Wormer, this volume), and, to a lesser extent, other places were strongly infl uenced by the views of inspired leaders. Despite these paternalistic infl uences, many utopian communities did improve gender equality—a theme explored in depth by Suzanne Spencer-Wood (this volume). The physical organization of utopian communities often refl ected how ownership and political control were negotiated. For example, the study of Brook Farm (Preucel and Pendery, this volume) is particularly revealing of how changes in the organization of the community are linked to an ideological shift from transcendentalist to Fourierist infl uences. Other principles such as antimaterialism and attitudes about private vs. communal ownership of material possessions also had strong behavioral correlates that are likely to be particularly visible in artifacts, architecture, and even the arrangement of landscapes. The diachronic perspective of archaeology can also make important contributions to under- standings of how utopian communities evolved and the reasons for those changes. This can counter the tendency toward static, monolithic interpretations that focus on the reasons groups “failed.” While all of the utopian communities considered in this volume were eventually aban- doned, studying their evolution can, and should, focus more on what they can teach about ideo- logical adaptation, rather than why they fell apart (Pitzer 1989). There is clearly value to understanding what did not work and why, but what did work, how communities adapted and changed, and how their political organiza- tion infl uenced the way they approached social experimentation should also be exposed. Stacy Kozakavich’s study of the evolution of Douk- hobor identity and Robert Preucel and Steven Pendery’s article about ideological changes at the Brook Farm are the strongest examples of this diachronic perspective, but transformations and ideological struggles within communities fi gure in several other volume contributions. Finally, there are significant opportunities for professional self-refl ection inherent in the examination of alternative communities. It is hard not to draw parallels between the deliberate way such communities sought to shape their worldviews and the inescapably interpretive role historical archaeologists play in reshaping visions of the past. By contemplating the outspoken ideologies espoused by alternative communities, researchers’ roles as agents of spin must be faced. In a very fundamental way, research agendas and the way they influence interpretations must be confronted. This is not to suggest the discipline is hopelessly mired in subjectivity. Rather, it gives pause for careful refl ection upon researchers’ roles in the interpretive venture and the intellectual baggage brought to it. True to the idealistic visions of the utopian communities being interpreted, an important goal of future research is to humanize 5THAD M. VAN BUEREN AND SARAH A. TARLOW—The Interpretive Potential of Utopian Settlements their struggles, reveal what has been learned about social possibilities and the potential for fundamental change, and consider how their inherently provocative visions may serve as inspiration for current social change. During the 20th century, utopianism has fallen from favor as an approach to the improvement of society, perhaps because of the great failures of social engineering represented by Fascism, Nazism, and state Communism. Prescriptions for the good society have come to be distrusted. Utopianism still has a role to play as something that is worth serious contemplation, encouraging breadth of possibility and questioning certainties. As this introduction was written, America’s national political leaders went to war in order, they claim, to defend the Western, capitalist way of life against hostile others. One of the greatest contributions that Western modernity has made to the world is the notion that humans themselves can imagine, build, and strive for a better society here on earth. Now, more than ever, the utopian imagination has a role to play in building different futures than those based on war, terror, confl ict, and inequality. References CONSIDERANT, VICTOR 1854 The Great West: A New Social and Industrial Life in Its Fertile Regions. Dewitt and Davenport, New York, NY. FINE, SIDNEY 1978 Laissez Faire and the General-Welfare State: A Study of Confl ict in American Thought, 1865–1901. University of Michigan Press, Ann Arbor. GEERTZ, CLIFFORD 1983 Local Knowledge: Further Essays in Interpretive Anthropology. Basic Books, New York, NY. HAYDEN, DELORES 1976 Seven American Utopias: The Architecture of Communitarian Socialism, 1790–1975. Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, Cambridge. LEONE, MARK 1981 The Relationship between Artifacts and the Public in Outdoor History Museums. Annals of the New York Academy of Sciences 376:301–313. PITZER, DONALD E. 1989 Developmental Communalism: An Alternative Approach to Communal Studies. In Utopian Thought and Communal Experience, Dennis Hardy and Lorna Davidson, editors, pp. 68–76. Middlesex Polytechnic, Geography and Planning Paper, No. 24, Enfi eld, England. PORTER, P. W., AND F. E. LUKERMANN 1976 The Geography of Utopia. In Geographies of the Mind, D. Lowenthal and M. J. Bowden, editors, pp. 197–223. Oxford University Press, New York, NY. RUSH, RALPH L. (EDITOR) 1939 The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Vol. 2. Columbia University Press, New York, NY. THAD M. VAN BUEREN CALIFORNIA DEPARTMENT OF TRANSPORTATION HISTORICAL ARCHAEOLOGY BRANCH 111 GRAND AVENUE, MS 8A PO BOX 23660 OAKLAND, CA 94623-0660 SARAH A. TARLOW SCHOOL OF ARCHAEOLOGY AND ANCIENT HISTORY UNIVERSITY OF LEICESTER UNIVERSITY ROAD LEICESTER, UNITED KINGDOM LE1 7RH 
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". . . a valuable source of ideas and information for decision-makers in the Asia-Pacific region." —Corazon Aquino Asia-Pacific Report Focus: China in the Reform Era (1989) 132 pp. paper $15 Editors Charles E. Morrison and Robert F. Dernberger join Harry Harding, Allen S. Whiting, Martin Whyte and others in separat- ing the myth from the reality of China's eco- nomic and political reforms, and their social and cultural impact. Also examined are the resources—human and environmental—that must fuel China's push to become a world leader. Plus a regional economic and political over- view, and statistical tables, charts and maps. Asia-Pacific Report Focus: Marine Issues and Pacific Islands (1987-88) 84 pp. paper $10 An examination of economic and political events in the mid-1980s. Plus special sections on critical marine issues arising from techno- logical advancements and a new law of the sea, and the challenges facing the developing Pacific island nations. 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Documentation on the WW II incarceration of 120,000 Japanese Americans. - * ^ * - AMERICAN * f i — ' CONCENTRATION CAMPS A Documentary History of the Relocation and Incarceration of Japanese Americans, 1942-1946 Selected and Edited by ROGER DANIELS, University of Cincinnati This meticulously researched series docu- ments the U.S. Government's decision and subsequent policy to relocate and incarcerate Japanese Americans during World War II. T h e documents reproduced are drawn mainly from the archives of the War Department and the United States Army. They detail the execu- tion and modification of the policy during the course of the war, and bring to light the strong rifts that developed among those responsible for the internment. Included in the set are: T h e Munson Re- port, dealing with alleged disloyalty of Japa- nese Americans; the degree of support that existed for governmental policies affecting Japanese Americans; the Senate debate on a bill to authorize the incarceration of any per- son of Japanese ancestry; and the Army report of deficient living and sanitary conditions of Assembly Centers. 9-volume sec $790. Volumes are also avail- able separately and are individually priced. ^ . Write or call for a free brochure that describes the series in detail. I f XJ i Garland Publishing, Inc. I V I I 136 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016 V y Toll-Free Number for Orders: 1-800-627-6273 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core CENTER FOR CHINESE STUDIES FELLOWSHIP PROGRAM The Center for Chinese Studies would like to announce a newly-establish- ed fellowship program designed to assist foreign Sinologists to carry out research in the R.O.C. The program is open to professors, associate professors, assistant professors, and doctoral candidates at university departments concerned with Chinese Studies, which are located outside the Republic of China. The program is also open to researchers at research institutions outside the R.O.C. that are related to the field of Chinese Studies. Research subjects should fall within the field of Chinese Studies. However, subjects related to contemporary Chinese politics, economics, or the military are excluded, since the research work of these subjects is sponsored by other institutions. The fellowship provides a research subsidy based on the length of research tenure in the R.O.C, which is set at a period of three months to one year. Scholars in need of travel funds may also apply for travel grants to the R.O.C. The final deadline for receipt of applications and all supporting materials is October 31 of any given year, for research projects beginning after July 1 of the following year. Further information and application forms may be obtained by writing the Liaison Division, Center for Chinese Studies, 20 Chungshan South Road, Taipei 10040, Taiwan, R.O.C. CCS PUBLICATIONS Chinese Studies. Semi-Annual, f. June 1983. US$10 per issue; $20 per year. Newsletter for Research in Chinese Studies. Quarterly, f. Jan. 1982. US$20 (Air Mail); $15 (Sea Mail) per year. Current Contents of Foreign Per- iodicals in Chinese Studies. Quarterly. f. Feb. 1984. US$10 (Air Mail); $7 (Sea Mail) per year. Selected Bibliography of Chinese Stu- dies in Taiwan. Annual. 1982 to 1987. US$10 per issue. Papers from Seminar on Chinese Social and Economic History, Summer 1982. C.Y. Hsu, H.K. Mao and T.J. Liueds. 1983. US$20. Catalogue of Materials on the Modern History of Northeast China. 1984. US$10. Union Catalogue of Chinese Gazetteers in Public Collections in Taiwan, R.O.C. Teh-yi Wang ed. 1985. US$20. Bibliography of Chinese Publications on Sino-Korean Relations. Kuan- chung Huang ed. 1987. US$10. Bibliography of Studies of the Chinese Family. Yih-yuan Li and Ying-chang Chuang eds. 1987. US$10. Bibliography of Selected Western Works on T'ang Dynasty Literature. William H. Nienhauser, Jr. ed. 1988. US$10. CENTER FOR CHINESE STUDIES 20 Chung-shan S. Road, Taipei, Taiwan, Republic of China available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core Congratulations UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS AUTHORS EDWARD FOWLER author of THE RHETORIC OF CONFESSION Shishosetsu in Early Twentieth-Century Japanese Fiction winner of the Lilienthal Prize JOSEPH W. ESHERICK author of THE ORIGINS OF THE BOXER UPRISING and THOMAS C. SMITH author of NATIVE SOURCES OF JAPANESE INDUSTRIALIZATION, 1750-1920 co-winners of the Berkeley Prize available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE CORNELL SOUTHEAST ASIA PROGRAM and THE JOHN M. ECHOLS COLLECTION ON SOUTHEAST ASIA are offering Luce Junior Faculty Fellowships for residence at Cornell during summer 1990, to support library research on Southeast Asia by faculty who were trained as Southeast Asia specialists previously, but who are now teaching in the U.S. and Canada at institutions lacking adequate library collections on the region. Deadline: 15 October 1989 For further details, write to: The Director Southeast Asia Program 120 Uris Hall Cornell University Ithaca, New York 14853-7601 LATEST EDITION VOLUME 11 DOCTORAL DISSERTATIONS ON ASIA WINTER / SUMMER 1988 (NOS. 1&2) compiled and edited by Frank Joseph Shulman Publication Date: June 1989 AAS Members: $8; Non-Members: $20 Make checks payable to the Association for Asian Studies, Inc. Please send prepaid orders only to: The Association for Asian Studies 1 Lane Hall, University of Michigan Ann Arbor, Ml 48109 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core r-From Delaware Korea The Peninsular Origins of War By John Merrill Merrill makes a convincing case for the peninsular as well as the international origins of the Korean War, and demonstrates that the North Korean invasion grew out of the border clashes between the two Koreas and the destruction of the southern guerrilla movement. 0-87413-300-9 $32.50 Leadership in Asia Persuasive Communication in the Making of Nations 1850-1950 By Robert T. Oliver Between 1850 and 1950 fifteen major nations of Asia emerged into modernism and independent nationalism, a move that had a monumental effect upon the world. Oliver provides an overview of what transpired during this time, emphasizing how the changes were brought about by key Asian leaders who guided the course of affairs with the skillful use of persuasive communication. 0-87413-353-X $42.50 Urban Underground Space Design in China Vernacular and Modern Practice By Gideon S. Golany This book introduces both the accomplishment of the vernacular and the evaluation of modern, nonresidential below-ground space facilities in China. Golany not only describes the traditional uses of subterranean spaces for food, grain storage, and the tombs of kings and nobles, but also investigates their many uses today, which include shopping centers, theaters, restaurants, and hospitals. 0-87413-297-5 $35.00 Also by Gideon S. Golany: 0-87413-362-9 Design and Thermal Performance: Below-Ground Dwellings in China Winter 1989 $38.50 tent. University of Delaware Press 326 Hullihen Hall Newark, Delaware 19716 Please send orders to 440 Forsgate Drive, Cranbury, NJ 08512 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core INDIA NEW FROM CALIFORNIA Culture and Power in Banaras Community, Performance, and Environment, 1800A 980 Edited by SANDRIA B. FREITAQ and motivations, processes of identity formation tions of community. Banaras is a complex world caste, class, language, and popular culture; the d book embraces those differences. $35.00 This collection of essays on Banaras, one of the largest urban centers in India's eastern Gangetic plain, is united by a common interest in examining everyday activities in order to learn about shared values and self-conscious construc- , with differences in religion, iversity of this enlightening Indian Tales of the This book, based on aseries produced for T 3 -j * British radio, helps to X V C t j address the question: Z A R E E R M A S A N I w,hat di.d t h e I n d i a ™ themselves think or the British? Here are the unique first-hand personal experiences and memories of over fifty Indian men and women who worked under the British, made friends with them, and then fought to throw them out. These accounts, fascinating and often touched with humor, are as rich and varied as India itself. To complete the picture and bring the story up to date, members of a younger generation of Indians take a critical look at colonial legacies—the English language, for one—and assess their relevance in modern independent India. $16.95 At bookstores or order toll-free 1-800-822-6657. Visa & MasterCard only. University of California Press • Berkeley 94720 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core Asian Statistical Reports & Asian Development Plans on microfiche For more than 15 years IDC has been filming current and past Social and Economic Development Plans and Statistical Reports from countries throughout the world. The collection has been filmed with the assistance of and in collaboration with among others the International Labour Office in Geneva, the World Bank in Washington D.C., the School of Oriental and African Studies in London and the U.N.O. in New York and Geneva. The collection will be updated regularly. The Plans and Reports are available per region, per country, and per title. HIDC Microform Publishers For free catalogues and folders write to: IDC bv, P.O. Box 11205, 2301 EE Leiden, The Netherlands § I West meets East in an Enchanting book! "In this enchanting book, Leila Philip recounts tip of the islands of Japan, where she studied ti* her trip in 1983 to Miyama, at the southern with a master potter... The reader will learn much about.. .Japanese history, social mores, rural life, modern youth, religion, the master- apprentice relationship, and much else." —*Library Journal "A lovely memoir... and a gentle and generous portrait of village life... as delicate and full of grace as a Japanese teacup." -Gretel Ehrlich "Quietly charming." —Atlantic MonthlyTHE ROAD THROUGH Illustrated. Nowat your bookstore. MIYAMA available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core How do firms become motivated to adopt small' group activities? How do they acquire expertise in these activities? Strategies for Learning Small-Group Activities in American, Japanese, and Swedish Industry Robert E. Cole Cole addresses these issues through an examination of small-group activities in the United States, Japan, and Sweden during the past 25 years. He explores the differences in the willingness and ability of private sector firms to engage in building national organizations designed to assist companies adopting small- group activities. He finds that American firms have been only moderately willing to engage in such institution building while the Swedes and the Japanese have shown a far greater willingness. This is especially true of the Japanese, who have built a highly successful national organization. These striking national differences reflect the varied historical experience of each country and, perhaps more important for the future, have serious competitive implications. $29.95 A fresh and compelling comparative analysis of Asian labor movements. The Japanese experience demonstrates not only how steep the price of success can be but also the enduring effects of culture over structure. Beneath the Miracle Labor Subordination in the New Asian Industrialism Frederic C. Deyo This important study examines the dynamics of the remarkable economic transformation of South Korea, Singapore, Taiwan, and Hong Kong, which has been based in large measure on the production of manufactured goods for export. The competitive edge of these countries has in turn been rooted in the mobilization of a low-cost, disciplined, and productive workforce. Deyo explains how East Asian governments and employers have attempted to manage this workforce. He also explores the extent to which workers are able to challenge management decisions and insert working-class agendas into public policy. $30.00 Japan's Administrative Elite B. C. Koh A major player in Japanese society is its government bureaucracy. Neither Japan's phenomenal track record in the world marketplace nor its remarkable success in managing its domestic affairs can be understood without insight into how its government bureaucracy works—how its elite administrators are recruited, socialized, and promoted; how they interact among themselves and with other principal players in Japan, notably politicians; how they are rewarded; and what happens to them when they retire at a relatively young age. Yet, despite its pivotal importance, there is no comprehensive and up-to-date study of Japan's administrative elite in the English language. Koh fills that gap. $38.50 At bookstores or order toll- free 1-800-822-6657. Visa & MasterCard only. University of California Press Berkeley 94720 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core HARVARD MISSIONARIES OF REVOLUTION Soviet Advisors and Nationalist China, 1920-1927 C. Martin Wilbur and Julie Lien-ying How During the 1920s the Soviet Union made a determined effort to stimulate revolution in China. This was revolu- tionary Russia's first large-scale inter- vention in the affairs of a foreign country and the story of these mission- aries of revolution constitutes an engrossing chapter on this little-known enterprise. "A true monument of historical schol- arship that will be read and consulted by students of this period for a very long time to come." —Steven I. Levine, Duke University $65.00 cloth AGRARIAN RADICALISM IN CHINA, 1968-1981 David Zweig "David Zweig...does a masterful job of lifting the veil on the political struggles over the agricultural policy during and immediately after the Cultural Revolu- tion. His carefully documented portrait of this period is critical to an understanding of the rapid abandon- ment of collectivism that occurred when this era of radicalism ended. His book is the definitive work on the subject." —Dwight H. Perkins, Harvard University Harvard East Asian Series, 102 $30.00 cloth THE WORLD OF THOUGHT IN ANCIENT CHINA Benjamin I. Schwartz 1986 Ralph Waldo Emerson Award of Phi Beta Kappa 1988 James Henry Breasted Prize of the American Historical Association "Schwartz's book deserves to stand for some time to come as the most au- thoritative account of ancient Chinese thought for the Westerner in the history of ideas." —Times Literary Supplement Belknap $12.95 paper Available at bookstores or from Harvard University Press 79 Garden Street Cambridge, MA 02138 (617) 495-2480 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core A N E W PHILIP E. LILIENTHAL B O O K An Imperial Vision Indian Architecture and Britain's Raj THOMAS R. METCALF "Not a catalogue raisonne of colonial buildings but a significant step forward into the new discipline of political architecture'—an important advance in widening our perceptions of colonialism as expressed in one of its most enduring forms." —Rosie Llewellyn-Jones, University of London "Builds upon a growing interest in the cultures of colonialism. . . . This is the work of a distinguished historian, who has the imagination and knowledge to see the social, political and cultural interrelation across time and space, and it sets a standard for all who are interested in the complex relations between Europeans and the rest of the world." —Bernard S. Cohn, University of Chicago S39.95 at bookstores or order toll-free 1-800-822-6657. Visa & MasterCard only. University of California Press • Berkeley 94720 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE CHINESE: A Portrait Second Revised Edition David Bonavla. "This trenchant guide to China today",* revised to assess the developments of the last seven years in liberalization policies, economic reforms, and relations with Moscow, "illuminates the peasants, sex, birth control, medicine, officials, industry, and other major aspects of the People's Republic.... Always sound and frequently brilliant."—* Robert Elegant, The New York Times Book Review. 320 pp. Penguin 0-14-010479-8 $7.95 NEHRU: The Making of India M. J. Akbar. From the death of the Raj to the birth of modern India, an intimate portrait of the man who built a nation from the ashes of Empire. "Well written and fast moving, full of fascinating insights and vignettes."—Robert Eric Frykenberg, Univer- sity of Wisconsin. 640 pp. Viking hardcover 0-670-81699-X $24.95 A WRITER'S NIGHTMARE Selected Essays 1958-1988 R. K. Narayan. Detailed and evocative essays reveal the essence and soul of Narayan's India. 240 pp. Penguin 0-14-010791-6 $7.95 MY DATELESS DIARY An American Journey fl. K. Narayan. Wry and witty observations on America through Narayan's eyes. 192 pp. Penguin 0-14-010941-2 $6.95 THE DEVIL'S WIND: Nana Saheb's Story Manohar Malgonkar. Powerful fiction tells the story of one of India's great patriots, at the heart of the 1857 Sepoy Uprising. "A tragic and tremen- dous story."—Pearl S. Buck. 256 pp. Penguin 0-14-011047-X $7.95 ARJUN Sun/7 Gangopadhyay. Translated by Chitrita Banerji-Abdullah. A bestselling Bengali novel of oppression and revenge in Calcutta's refugee community, from an author "high among present day writers."—Satyajit Ray. 208 pp. Penguin 0-14-010341-4 $7.95 THE SAGA OF DHARMAPURI 0. V. Vijayan. Translated by the author. From the forefront of contemporary Indian writing, a glit- tering extravaganza of myth, allegory, humor, eroticism, and literary innovation, written in Malayalam. "Not the kind of novel you forget in a hurry."—Khushwant Singh. 160 pp. Penguin 0-14-010787-8 $6.95 PHOENIX FLED Attia Hosaln. Introduction by Anita Desai. Twelve vivid stories of life before, during, and after Par- tition explore the human repercussions of Muslim- Hindu conflict. A Virago Modern Classic. 202 pp. Penguin 0-14-016192-9 $7.95 SUNLIGHT ON A BROKEN COLUMN Attia Hosain. Introduction by Anita Desai. An evocative novel of a Muslim woman's struggle for political—and personal—freedom while India struggles against colonial rule. A Virago Modern Classic. 336 pp. Penguin 0-14-016191-0 $7.95 THE DEER CRY PAVILION: A Story of Westerners in Japan 1868-1905 Pat Ban. From the Meiji Era to Japan's military vic- tory over Russia, this "lively and informative account.. .cuts deeply below the brilliant surface description of life in emerging Japan."—Kenneth Lamott, Washington Post Book World. 282 pp. Penguin 0-14-009578-0 $7.95 P E N G U I N U S A Academic/Library Marketing, 40 West 23rd Street, New York, N.Y. 10010 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core NEW FROM MICHIGAN Richard Edwards The World Around the Chinese Artist Aspects of Realism in Chinese Painting The World Around the Chinese Artist discusses the central tension of much Chinese art, the relationship between the physical reality of the world and the subjective reality of those who interpret the world through their art. Edwards focuses on three Chinese masters of landscape painting, Hsia Kuei, Shen Chou, and Shi-t'ao, and on their involvement with the world they sought to portray. cloth $34.50/paper $16.95 Michigan residents, include 4% sales tax. THE UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN PRESS Dept.CL P.O. Box 1104 Ann AiborJVlichigan 48106 . The World Around the ASIAN SURVEY A Monthly Review of Contemporary Asian Affairs Editorial submissions and correspondence may be sent to: Asian Survey, Institute of East Asian Studies, Room 516, University of California, 2223 Fulton Street, Berkeley, California 94720. Subscriptions: In the U.S., $37.00 a year for individuals; $20.00 a year for students; $75.00 a year for institutions; outside the U.S., add $9.00 for postage. Send orders to: Asian Survey, University of California Press, Periodicals Department, Berkeley, CA 94720. available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core PRINCETON UNIVERSITY PRESS High Religion A Cultural and Political History of Sherpa Buddhism Sherry B. Ortner Sherry Ortner is the first anthropologist to integrate social scientific and historical modes of analysis in a study of the Sherpa monasteries and one of the very few to attempt such an account for Buddhist monasteries anywhere. Combining ethnographic and oral-historical methods, she scrutinizes the interplay of political and cultural factors in the events culminating in the monastery foundings. Her work constitutes a major advance both in our knowledge of Sherpa buddhism and in the integration of anthropological and historical modes of analysis. Princeton Studies in Culture/Power/History Sherry B. Ortner, Nicholas B. Dirks, Geoff Eley, Editors Paper: $12.95 0-691-02843-5 Cloth: $35.00 0-691-09439-X Meaning and Power in a Southeast Asian Realm Shelly Errington The ruler in the Indie States of Southeast Asia was seen not as the "head of state" but as the center or navel of the world. Like polities, persons and houses were and are viewed as centered spaces (locations) where spiritual potency can gather. Shelly Errington explores the politics of constituting and maintaining such centered socio-political spaces in a former Indie State called Luwu, which lies in South Sulawesi (Celebes), Indonesia. The meaning of political life and the ways its cultural forms were and are sustained depend on locally construed ideas of "power" or spiritual potency and "the person," which the author explores in detail. Cloth: $35.00 ISBN 0-691-09445-4 Congratulations! Andrew H. Pkiks, author of The Four Masterworks of fhs Ming Novel, has been awarded the 1987 Joseph Levenson Book Prize, sponsored by the M S China and Inner Asia Council. AT YOUR BOOKSTORE OR Princeton University Press 41 WILLIAM ST. . PRINCETON, NJ 08540 . (609) 452-4900 ORDERS 800-PRS-ISBN (777-4726) available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 https://www.cambridge.org/core IN THIS ISSUE ROMEYN TAYLOR Chinese Hierarchy in Comparative Perspective FRANCISCA CHO BANTLY Buddhist Allegory in the Journey to the West ELLEN R. JUDD Niangjia: Chinese Women and Their Natal Families WEN-HSIN YEH Dai Li and the Liu Geqing Affair: Heroism in the Chinese Secret Service During the War of Resistance MICHAEL SCHOENHALS Unofficial and Official Histories of the Cultural Revolution—A Review Article available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021911800048580 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 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work_j6lcdftltbaqrftv2s4vkapdmq	----	Twin-Win Model: A human-centered approach to research success Twin-Win Model: A human-centered approach to research success Ben Shneidermana,1 aDepartment of Computer Science & Human-Computer Interaction Lab, University of Maryland, College Park, MD 20814 Edited by William Rouse, Stevens Institute of Technology, Hoboken, NJ, and accepted by Editorial Board Member Pablo G. Debenedetti May 4, 2018 (received for review February 15, 2018) A 70-year-old simmering debate has erupted into vigorous battles over the most effective ways to conduct research. Well-established beliefs are being forcefully challenged by advocates of new research models. While there can be no final resolution to this battle, this paper offers the Twin-Win Model to guide teams of researchers, academic leaders, business managers, and government funding policymakers. The Twin-Win Model favors a problem-oriented approach to research, which encourages formation of teams to pursue the dual goals of breakthrough theories in published papers and validated solutions that are ready for widespread dissemination. The raised expectations of simultaneously pursuing foundational discoveries and powerful innovations are a step beyond traditional approaches that advocate basic research first. Evidence from citation analysis and researcher interviews suggests that simultaneous pursuit of both goals raises the chance of twin-win success. research model | basic research | applied research | Twin-Win Model | human-centered research The usually quiet world of academic research is being awak-ened by explosive battles over how to do research (1–4). The traditional linear model of research argued for curiosity-driven basic research in laboratories to acquire new knowledge. This may have been productive in the knowledge-poor early days of dis- covery, but now, in our knowledge-rich, information-overloaded world, new models are needed. Since collecting new knowledge has become so easy, researchers need to consider which forms of new knowledge would be most beneficial. Collecting the length of every rat’s tail or the number of characters in every tweet would add to the store of knowledge. However, it seems clear that col- lecting the location of every rat to understand the spread of dis- ease or the time stamp of every tweet to understand sleep patterns in different cities would be more helpful in raising further ques- tions and useful in recommending constructive actions. In short, some knowledge is likely to be more useful than others, because the knowledge relates to meaningful problems and may suggest constructive actions. Knowledge is tied to meaningful problems by way of a causal theory that permits in- tervention so as to contribute to improvements in human life or environmental preservation. Therefore, my claim is that research can become more productive if the pursuit of new knowledge is tied to actionable insights that can lead to societal benefits and sustainable conservation. Leading organizations have identified key challenges, such as the 17 Sustainable Development Goals of the United Nations or the 14 Grand Challenges of the US National Academy of Engineering. Common challenges include healthcare delivery, clean air and water, smart cities, improved education, and energy availability. While most academics support the idea of responding to these challenges by collecting new knowledge that is tied to actionable insights, too often researchers fail to structure their research plans in ways that are likely to lead to the dual successes of new knowledge and societal benefits. The Twin-Win Model (Fig. 1) favors a problem-oriented approach to research, which encour- ages formation of teams between academics and professionals to pursue the dual goals of breakthrough theories in published papers and validated solutions that are ready for widespread dissemination. Background The idea of bringing academic researchers in closer contact with professionals who face authentic problems has long been discussed as a way to achieve higher societal benefits. The famed American poet and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson spoke in 1837 about academics working more closely with farmers, business people, and government. Emerson called for academics to engage in the real world: “Action . . . is essential . . . Without it, thought can never ripen into truth.” That encouragement remains valid today. More than a century later, Vannevar Bush’s (5) 1945 manifesto Science: The Endless Frontier, a Report to the President on a Program for Postwar Scientific Research sought to separate academic work from practical problems. He argued for a linear model, suggesting that basic research came first, which led to applied research and then commercial development. The linear model was vigorously opposed by Tom Allen (6) in the 1970s, Deborah Shapley and Rustum Roy (7) in the 1980s, and many others. An important contribution was Donald Stokes’ (8) 1997 book Pasteur’s Quadrant: Basic Science and Technological Innovation, which proposed a fresh strategy: “use-inspired basic research.” His reference to Pasteur reminded readers about Pasteur’s work on the problems of vintners and dairy farmers, which produced the twin-win of solutions to their problems and the germ theory of disease. Lewis Branscomb’s (9) 2007 essay supported the idea that creativity and utility (basic and applied) research were happy partners. Steven Chu, Nobel Prize winner in physics and US Secretary of Energy, reinforced the need for a shift in research: “We seek solutions. We don’t seek— dare I say this—just scientific papers anymore.” In the past few years, The New ABCs of Research: Achieving Breakthrough Collaborations (10), which advocated for “applied and basic combined (ABC),” was joined by Narayanamurti and Odumosu’s (2) book on Cycles of Invention and Discovery: Re- thinking the Endless Frontier. Dan Sarewitz (3) wrote a powerful essay on “Saving science,” pushing for reform of science to in- crease its impact, while reducing the prevalence of results that could not be replicated. Sarewitz (3) stressed that “scientists must come out of the lab and into the real world.” A similar call for emphasizing applications as the path to discoveries came This paper results from the Arthur M. Sackler Colloquium of the National Academy of Sci- ences, “Modeling and Visualizing Science and Technology Developments,” held Decem- ber 4–5, 2017, at the Arnold and Mabel Beckman Center of the National Academies of Sciences and Engineering in Irvine, CA. The complete program and video recordings of most presentations are available on the NAS website at www.nasonline.org/modeling_ and_visualizing. Author contributions: B.S. designed research, analyzed data, and wrote the paper. The author declares no conflict of interest. This article is a PNAS Direct Submission. W.R. is a guest editor invited by the Editorial Board. Published under the PNAS license. 1Email: ben@cs.umd.edu. Published online December 10, 2018. 12590–12594 | PNAS | December 11, 2018 | vol. 115 | no. 50 www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.1802918115 D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1073/pnas.1802918115&domain=pdf http://www.nasonline.org/modeling_and_visualizing http://www.nasonline.org/modeling_and_visualizing https://www.pnas.org/site/aboutpnas/licenses.xhtml mailto:ben@cs.umd.edu https://www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.1802918115 from a group of information visualization researchers who called on their colleagues to “apply or die” (4). Leading organizations have also called for reforms to academic practice in major reports. They have invoked many terms to de- scribe their variations on the theme of blending applied and basic research through interdisciplinary, cross-disciplinary, multidisciplin- ary, and transdisciplinary approaches (11). The National Research Council called for convergence (12), and later, the National Acad- emy of Engineering (13) offered a variation on convergence as part of their engineering research centers program to “ensure that the teams work in concert to maximize the value created for society.” A word of caution: I do not think that interdisciplinary or convergent ideas are sufficient to achieve the goal of high research impact. Such approaches may be helpful, but a vital component is that researchers need to work with professionals who have authentic problems, which allows for validation of proposed theories and solutions. The importance of developing the strategies for team formation and management was presented very effectively in a thoughtful, well-documented, and highly readable report on Enhancing the Effectiveness of Team Science (14). Another valuable source was Google’s report on its hybrid model of research, which described the benefits of working on authentic problems as a path to better theories and deeper understanding (15, 16). Academics working with business have a strong history of successes (17), but there clearly have been problems in working with business, which have led many academics to be cautious about such partnerships or funding sources (18). A study of academic medical centers found that patented inventions by clinical researchers were more likely to be licensed to firms than inventions by laboratory researchers pursuing basic science (19). Prominent academic leaders, such as Michel M. Crow, Presi- dent of Arizona State University, have implemented these ideas. He has worked for more than a decade to steer his campus to transform society by conducting “use-inspired research” that is “socially embedded” in local, regional, and national projects (1). Shirley Ann Jackson (20), President of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, called for her faculty to “collaborate more effectively with businesses and governments . . . educating our students in multidisciplinary and collaborative thinking . . . guided by social concerns and ethics.” Similarly, the Irish Research Council (21), which uses the term “engaged research” to describe collabora- tions “with community partners, rather than for them,” calls for academic research to address societal challenges. All of these reports are helpful in understanding the broad push to change academic research culture, but there are those who resist and seek to preserve current practices (22). A group of academic leaders have been meeting to develop strategies that can work across many campuses and disciplines. The Highly Integrative Basic and Responsive (HIBAR) Research Alliance is partnering with established organizations, like the National Academies of Science, Engineering, and Medicine and the Association for Public and Land-grant Universities (www.aplu.org/projects-and-initiatives/ research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html). Modeling the Research Ecosystem Having a visual model of the research ecosystem could help re- searchers understand how they can improve their chances of attaining twin-win successes. The simplified model in this paper (Fig. 2) is a refined version of the model in The New ABCs of Research: Achieving Breakthrough Collaborations (10). This re- fined model, which describes university components (yellow boxes in Fig. 2) and relationships (black arrows in Fig. 2), focuses on departments, which hire and reward faculty. In turn, the faculty teach students and form research teams, which produce and promote their papers. The students join the research teams, and eventually, they may become faculty members. Outside the universities (gray boxes in Fig. 2), the papers get submitted to journals and conferences, and they are published by professional societies and commercial publishers. Some papers that are de- scribed by journalists can reach wider audiences. The two large boxes on the bottom show the powerful role of governments (federal, state, and local), businesses, and philanthro- pies in funding research and the powerful benefits of collaborations between research teams and businesses, government laboratories, and nongovernmental organizations. These latter organizations also hire the students as interns and full-time employees. This simplified model fails to include many other important actors and actions, such as state legislatures, university boards of directors, and key university officials, such as presidents and provosts. However, it could guide thinking about interventions that improve the efficacy of university research, such as hiring stronger faculty, forming more effective teams, or publishing in journals and conferences that might attract more interest from colleagues and journalists. Richer models of universities as com- plex enterprises could lead to further insights about how to reform research (23, 24). Collecting Actionable Evidence The stream of writers mentioned in Background gave numerous examples and arguments in support of the Twin-Win Model that academics who collaborate with professionals to work on meaningful problems produce higher levels of impact. This thesis is controversial, as there is a continuing belief among many Fig. 1. Twin-Win Model of research goals. Fig. 2. Simplified model of the research ecosystem emphasizing the role of collaborations with business, government laboratories, and nongovernmental organizations. Yellow indicates campus actors and actions, while gray indicates other actors. Labels on edges are actions. NGO, nongovernmental organization. Shneiderman PNAS | December 11, 2018 | vol. 115 | no. 50 | 12591 SO C IA L SC IE N C ES C O M P U TE R SC IE N C ES C O LL O Q U IU M P A P ER D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 http://www.aplu.org/projects-and-initiatives/research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html http://www.aplu.org/projects-and-initiatives/research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html researchers that their work should be devoted to laboratory studies and focused on their theories. These researchers do not seek out partners in business, government, or nongovernmental agencies; in fact, they actively reject such collaborations. They fear that working on problems brought by off-campus profes- sionals are not interesting, too applied, or too difficult. They fear, sometimes with good reason, that businesses are not in- terested in serious research that would lead to respected pub- lications, seek to control the intellectual property, or use academic credibility only to achieve corporate goals. In short, academics do not want to “dirty their hands” by working on real problems, sometimes making explicit statements that applica- tions and policy issues are not appropriate concerns for researchers. There are certainly dangers, but a growing number of academics have come to understand that there are great opportunities in working with businesses, governments, and nongovernmental or- ganizations to pursue twin-win successes. Many universities have recognized the power of such partnerships and actively seek them out by forming partnerships with individual businesses or creating consortia of businesses to support a laboratory working on a problem or widespread interest. Academic leaders and faculty are discovering that joining in government, industry, and university Centers of Excellence brings together diverse researchers with stable funding to work on substantive problems. Recognizing the efficacy of larger teams, the US National Science Foundation has launched 12 Science and Technology Centers in the past decade to support “integrative partnerships” (https://www.nsf.gov/od/oia/ programs/stc/). While National Science Foundation and American Associa- tion for the Advancement of Science (AAAS) reports docu- mented the efficacy of larger centers, I wanted to understand the benefits to individual faculty members of working with profes- sionals. Fresh data up to and including 2016 from the Elsevier SCOPUS database, which holds the metadata on 70 million published papers, provided evidence about the impact of papers written by my University of Maryland colleagues. The results were striking: single authored papers produced, on average, 3.0 citations, while collaborations among University of Maryland faculty averaged 6.1 citations. When my colleagues collaborated with faculty at other US universities, they averaged 9.2 citations, while collaborations with international faculty raised the average to 13.9. However, the remarkable result was that coauthoring with colleagues in businesses or organizations, such as the World Bank, resulted in a dramatically higher citation count of 20.3. This pattern proved to be common at other universities with strong research programs. Figs. 3 and 4 show the SCOPUS data for the leading private and public universities (as determined by research output). They show similar patterns of substantially higher impact when papers include corporate coauthors. More extensive analysis is needed to verify this strong benefit of having corporate coauthors. A confounding factor may be that many projects that bring academics in contact with domain ex- perts who have meaningful problems in businesses, government, or nongovernmental organizations do not list the domain experts as a coauthor. These domain experts could be involved in the research, but they may not become coauthors. Another important category of collaborations might be with academics in other disciplines who draw on the skills of their colleagues. This form of interdisciplinary research is driven by the need to solve a clear and meaningful problem. Whatever the source of the collaboration that applies aca- demic skills to a meaningful problem, a deeper understanding of the processes that enable such collaboration would be helpful. The Elsevier SciVal tool permits drilling down to identify the faculty who have the largest number of papers with corporate coauthors. By limiting the search to the computer science field, I identified which colleagues in my University of Maryland De- partment of Computer Science had the largest number of papers with corporate coauthors in the past 5 y. The top person, who had 22 such papers during 2012–2016, was a complete surprise, because I knew him to be a strong theory researcher working in algorithmic game theory. In an interview, he confirmed that he liked to work with corporate partners, because “they had better problems.” He invited corporate collaborators to visit and speak with his students on campus and sent his students to do intern- ships, which often led to full-time job offers. He described long- term durable relationships, which led to coauthorship of papers. The next most prolific producer of papers with corporate coau- thors had 12 such papers in computer vision. He reported similar patterns of eagerly working with businesses, sometimes funded by government agencies, because the problems challenged his Fig. 3. Top six US private universities show similar patterns of increased citation impact when there are corporate coauthors. Data cover 2012–2016. MIT, Massachusetts Institute of Technology; U Penn, University of Pennsylvania. 12592 | www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.1802918115 Shneiderman D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 https://www.nsf.gov/od/oia/programs/stc/ https://www.nsf.gov/od/oia/programs/stc/ https://www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.1802918115 group and led to strong papers. Four other faculty had fewer collaborations with business partners but spoke of their positive experiences in building and maintaining collaborations with off- campus partners. The journey of working with businesses takes an open mind and some effort. Sometimes, it begins with a contact (email or phone) from a corporate researcher who is interested in a faculty mem- ber’s research. This can lead to invitations to speak or consult for the corporation or invitations for the corporate researcher to speak on campus. Other corporate connections come from stu- dents who intern or go to work for a corporate research labora- tory. These students may still be finishing work that they began on campus, and later, they may build on their campus connections for new lines of work. However, another path to corporate connec- tions is by way of direct corporate funding of academic research through unrestricted gifts or contracts. Government funding, which requires university–industry collab- oration, can also establish collaborations that endure, such as the US National Science Foundation’s Industry-University Cooperative Research Centers (https://www.nsf.gov/eng/iip/iucrc/home.jsp) and the US National Network for Manufacturing Innovation (https:// www.manufacturing.gov/). Other integrative research centers, such as the Science and Technology Centers (https://www.nsf.gov/funding/ pgm_summ.jsp?pims_id=5502) and Engineering Research Centers (https://www.nsf.gov/od/oia/programs/stc/), provide further opportu- nities for productive collaborations. The University-Industry Demonstration Partnerships (https:// www.uidp.org) is one of many organizations with the goal to promote collaborations by supporting “mutually beneficial university-industry collaborations by developing and disseminat- ing strategies for addressing common issues between the two sectors.” The University-Industry Demonstration Partnerships grew out of an initiative of the National Academies Government- University-Industry Research Roundtable. Another organization is HIBAR Research Alliance (www.aplu.org/projects-and-initia- tives/research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html), which is pursuing strategies for campus culture change to promote closer collaborations with government, business, and nongovernmental organizations. Lorne Whitehead of the University of British Columbia offered this description: “HIBAR specializes in pro- jects that Seek both deep new knowledge and new practical solutions Use both academic research methods and practical design thinking Are led by both respected academics and real-world experts.” Additional evidence of the potency of seeking twin-win suc- cesses comes from a recent study of the relationship between re- search papers and patents (25). This study found that patents often cited academic papers, but more importantly, academic papers that are cited by patents get greater attention in the re- search community: “papers directly cited by patents were also the highest-impact papers within the scientific domain” (25). The business benefits of close connection with research were also found: “Patented inventions that draw directly on scientific ad- vances were especially impactful compared to other patents” (25). The focus of this paper has been the benefits to academics of working with business coauthors. Another question is whether there is benefit to business professionals in working with academics. An exploration in the SCOPUS data for the data from 12 large cor- porations during 2012–2016 found that the average citation count for papers with academic coauthors was 11.7 (SD 4.9), while for papers without academic coauthors, the average citation count was 6.3 (SD 4.0). Of these 12 companies (Agilent Technologies, Bayer, Boeing, Exxon Mobil, General Motors, Google, Huawei, IBM, Medtronic, Oracle, Sony, Waters Corporation), 11 had higher ci- tation counts for the papers with academic coauthors, but 1 com- pany, Google, had higher citation counts in papers without academic coauthors. Their current and previous directors of re- search conjecture that Google’s highly cited system design papers describing implemented systems are largely written by Google employees, while papers coauthored with academics are more theoretical or early research. While this result needs further ex- ploration and confirmation, it adds to the evidence that working on realistic problems and the diversity brought by intersectoral col- laborations strengthens researchers who are seeking the twin-win success of published papers and validated solutions (ref. 10, p. 175). Conclusion There are many paths to twin-win research success, but working on authentic problems with partners who care about the solu- tions seems important. This article stresses partnerships between Fig. 4. Top six US public universities show similar patterns of increased citation impact when there are corporate coauthors. Data cover 2012–2016. UCLA, University of California, Los Angeles; UC San Diego, University of California, San Diego. Shneiderman PNAS | December 11, 2018 | vol. 115 | no. 50 | 12593 SO C IA L SC IE N C ES C O M P U TE R SC IE N C ES C O LL O Q U IU M P A P ER D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 https://www.nsf.gov/eng/iip/iucrc/home.jsp https://www.manufacturing.gov/ https://www.manufacturing.gov/ https://www.nsf.gov/funding/pgm_summ.jsp?pims_id=5502 https://www.nsf.gov/funding/pgm_summ.jsp?pims_id=5502 https://www.nsf.gov/od/oia/programs/stc/ https://www.uidp.org https://www.uidp.org http://www.aplu.org/projects-and-initiatives/research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html http://www.aplu.org/projects-and-initiatives/research-science-and-technology/hibar/index.html academics and businesses, but there may be utility for academics with strong research methods, such as software, statistics, or surveys, to work with academic colleagues in other disciplines who have strong research problems. The widely held belief in the benefits of interdisciplinary research may stem from situations where academics with strong research methods work with col- leagues with strong research problems. In summary, there is growing evidence that, when academics work with partners in business, they address authentic problems that challenge the research team to produce more potent solu- tions. Such partnerships often have access to more resources (money, staff, data, etc.), enabling them to take on more sub- stantive problems, although they may be working with greater time pressures than in academic projects. The authentic setting for these problems means that there is often potent feedback that guides reconsideration of goals and methods. The stakes are higher in authentic settings, since a validated solution can have large payoffs. While these conclusions need refinement and verification, the takeaway lessons for academic researchers seeking twin-win success include Build long-term relationships with professionals in business and government research laboratories, Seek funding to work on problems that businesses and govern- ments find relevant, and Encourage your students to do internships at business and government research laboratories. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. I appreciated the support from the HIBAR Research Alliance, especially Lorne Whitehead and Dan Sarewitz, and my University of Maryland colleagues Linda Aldoory and Scott Dempwolf. I also thank Katy Borner, Michelle Gittelman, Benjamin Jones, Stasa Milojevic, Peter Norvig, Markus Perkmann, Gavriel Salvendy, and Alfred Spector, who have made helpful comments on the draft. Asheq Rahman of Elsevier collaborated productively and generously in doing the SCOPUS analyses using SciVal. 1. 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work_jg7gkx4uyraotbufgdt7q47zbm	----	A Transcendentalist Nature Religion religions Article A Transcendentalist Nature Religion Nicholas Aaron Friesner ID Department of Religious Studies, Brown University, 59 George Street, Providence, RI 02912, USA; nicholas_friesner@brown.edu Received: 28 June 2017; Accepted: 20 July 2017; Published: 26 July 2017 Abstract: Scholars of religion have often pointed to the Transcendentalists as progenitors of a distinct tradition of nature religion in the United States. Nevertheless, this work has not fully dealt with the problematic qualities of “nature” in light of growing concerns about the ethical and socio-political implications of human powers in the Anthropocene. This paper presents a brief overview of “nature religion” while focusing on the often uneasy way that Ralph Waldo Emerson is treated in this work. By looking at how Emerson is viewed as a stepping stone to Henry David Thoreau, I argue that it is precisely what the tradition of nature religion finds problematic in Emerson—his strains of recurrent idealism—that allows him to have a more expansive notion of nature as the environments in which we live, while preserving the importance of human moral agency. What follows, then, is a more nuanced position in environmental ethics that is informed by an Emersonian sense of the irreducible tension between being created and being a creator. Keywords: transcendentalism; nature religion; Ralph Waldo Emerson; environmental ethics; environmental justice 1. Introduction Among scholars as well as the general American public, it has long been acknowledged that the Transcendentalists have contributed to a specific tradition of environmental religiosity. Their influence has been variously named, both by those who would distance Transcendentalists like Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau from religious institutions (making theirs a kind of spirituality), and by those who allow that this is a different kind of religious tradition, one less invested in reiterating formal church structures and more in inaugurating a revolution in what religion (here, not opposed to spirituality) will look like in the future. Among scholars of religion, both Emerson and Thoreau have played a major role in the development of what is called a “nature religion” tradition insofar as each articulated a sense of religious reverence for the sacrality of the natural world that is inherited by a long line of readers, many of whom ascribe to them a near-prophetic status. However great its ongoing influence as an analytical category for drawing together a diverse set of religious phenomena under a symbolic engagement with nature, we might wonder whether, as a coherent concept, nature religion stands up to critical scrutiny. For instance, recent scholarship from a range of disciplines has questioned the continuing relevance of the analytic category of “nature” because of its seeming inoculation from an analysis of the effects of social and political power. Taking my cue from these critical reappraisals of the unstated normative undertones of “nature”, the question I will explore in what follows is whether a Transcendentalist sense of “nature religion,” returning to it so-called problematic Emersonian roots, might be better equipped to deal with questions of twenty-first century environmentalism. Thus, my goal is to interrogate one aspect of the legacy of the Transcendentalists for religious thought in the United States, focusing solely on the tangled question of a “nature religion”. However, I will not interrogate the particular historical trajectory presented by the dominant paradigm of nature religion in this essay—and whether its inclusion of certain voices operates to the exclusion of others—but will instead focus on the unraveling of a certain vision of “nature” that lays at its core. Religions 2017, 8, 130; doi:10.3390/rel8080130 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0002-1020-4838 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8080130 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 130 2 of 18 In fact, what I will argue in the following is that we can see in miniature what is most troubling about “nature” as an ethical category in the traditional move from Emerson to Thoreau as it is represented by the majority of those who have been interested in the connection between nature religion and environmentalism in the past three decades. My contention will be that swirling within the criticism that is often made of Emerson’s proto-environmentalism—i.e., that his idealism prevents him from realizing the true value of nature as something independent of the human, a value that is not merely symbolic and not merely in service of human ethical flourishing—are the tools for an approach to environmental ethics and justice in the present. That is to say, the ambiguity of Emerson’s nature idealism allows him to have a sense in which human power and nature power are intertwined, in which nature is more than the wilderness but stands for the environments in which we live. Consequently, Emerson’s ideal of intimacy with the world preserves a unique sense of human responsibility while rejecting any picture in which human moral activity is autonomous from the environments it occurs. The lineage of the Transcendentalist interest in nature moves away from Emerson on this point, traveling instead through the tradition of nature writing and a more overt celebration of the land. My hope is to draw from Emerson the idea that humans now live in a tension with the world in which we are both creators of and created by own environments. This is one of what Stanley Cavell would call the “unhandsome” aspects of our condition, that when we try to clutch the hardest at our world we tend to lose contact with it the most.1 By turning back to Emerson, my hope is not to privilege Emerson over any other ethical response—as though he sets out something unique on the American intellectual scene. Indeed, there are many indigenous and ecotheological views that come to a similar kind of claim about human responsiveness to the environment, but which start in very different places.2 There are many roads to the place I hope to go. Rather, my hope is to focus on a kind of unconventional Emerson, a figure I believe has been used and misused at the nexus of religion, literature, and environmental thought, all in hopes of offering a view that might have resonance in the twenty-first century. 2. “Nature Religion” and Symbolic “Nature” Although it is still in wide usage in an array of fields, the term “nature” has itself come under criticism for a variety of reasons from many different disciplines. For those working in the field of religion and ecology, “nature” is problematic as a term to the extent that it refers to an individual object of religious concern that is often bound to a particular creation theology separating some autonomous order of “nature” from not-nature. This creation theology need not be explicitly monotheistic, for there are a variety of ways to separate the domains of a created order into two distinct (although perhaps entangled) spheres. The problem is that too often this creation theology is considered a neutral or universalizable descriptor. As Roger Gottlieb among others has written, religion and ecology in its early iterations as a discipline dealt explicitly with the question of how humans are to deal with “creation”, which was more or less equivalent to the term “nature”. Perhaps unsurprisingly, the idea of “creation” in this context uses either an explicit or implicit theological apparatus to preserve the order of nature as a created thing apart from human power. Nature (as creation) was thus viewed as a thing that becomes despoiled by human activity—the human (along with the equally pernicious 1 I follow Tyler Roberts in refining Cavell’s reading of this passage by taking it as an argument for receptivity through acknowledgment of the world (Buell 2003, p. 211). As Emerson puts it in “Experience”: “I take this evanescence and lubricity of all objects, which lets them slip through our fingers then when we clutch hardest, to be the most unhandsome part of our condition. Nature does not like to be observed, and likes that we should be her fools and playmates” (CW 3:29). In this essay, I will use the standard abbreviations for the works of Emerson: The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson (J) (Emerson 1960–1982); The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson (EL) (Emerson 1961–1972); The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson (CW) (Emerson 1971–2013); and The Complete Sermons of Ralph Waldo Emerson (CS) (Emerson 1989–1992). 2 For instance, much of what I will say seems compatible with what Kyle Whyte and Chris Cuomo have recently described as an indigenous ethics of care with regards to the environment, one in which the human caretaker role arguably has elements of what I term a transcendental intimacy (Whyte and Cuomo 2017). Religions 2017, 8, 130 3 of 18 “culture”) coming to exist in disharmony with creation and therefore pitted against it. Nonetheless, not only is “nature” dubious as a universalizable concept, but without some form of creation theology to delimit the separate spheres of human and nature so that each is autonomous in its own way with powers distinct from the other, the idea of “nature” decoupled from a creation theology begins to break apart. Indeed, this decoupling is exasperated by what now seems empirically undeniable: what were once taken to be the categorically distinct spheres of human and nature are no longer viewed as separate realms with separable spheres of power, but mutually constituting, with no idyllic prelapsarian harmony to which we ought to return.3 For many who work in religion and ecology and are worried about how “nature” might provide a false sense of a fully harmonious order, there has been a conceptual change to thinking about the “environment” to avoid the problematic theological overtones of “nature”. Instead, as Gottlieb describes, we must focus our ethical gaze on “a nonhuman world whose life and death, current shape and future prospects, are in large measure determined by human beings” (Gottlieb 2006, p. 5). The conceptual change to talking about environments rather than nature is also meant to acknowledge a fact that now seems undeniable: that we are living in what is now fashionably called the anthropocene, meaning that we are living at a time when human activity and human power have unimaginable impacts on every facet of the Earth.4 This is an acknowledgment that in our twenty-first century, globalized industrial society there is no self-sustaining natural world that stands apart from the influence of human power—and vice versa. This is, first of all, an empirical claim to which we are witnesses through climate science, conservation biology, environmental medicine, as well as with the variety of those who work towards environmental justice, among other and diverse fields. But this has a philosophical resonance as well: that is to say, we are not passive receivers of impressions made on us by the world, but active creators of our experiences, beings that are shaped by socio-cultural systems in conjunction with the physical environments that are also shaped by these systems. The social and the environmental are nearly impossible to disentangle—and that is a central element of what the anthropocene forces us to acknowledge. I should note as well that just as Emerson and Thoreau saw humans as animals, my invocation of the anthropocene is not meant to make a categorical distinction between humans and animals (or any other form of life)—although it does take the human species to be exceptional in the sense that, at the present, human activity has a radical world-altering power and the concomitant moral responsibility that entails, even if this responsibility is not equally dispersed among all members.5 If we admit the logic of the anthropocene, this presents a problem for how we might talk about “experiences” of “nature”, especially those kinds of experiences that form the foundation of “nature religion”. In many ways, the realization that there is no autonomous order of nature not deeply shaped, physically and conceptually, by forms of human power has an analog with the debates about religious experience by scholars beginning in the 1980s with Wayne Proudfoot’s groundbreaking 3 This also becomes a problem for theological naturalists: insofar as there is nothing that is not nature, then nature ceases to mean anything. For instance, the following question seemed to alter radically Robert Corrington’s theological work: “If nature is all that there is, can we even use the word ‘nature’ in a philosophical perspective in which the concept of the ‘non-nature’ makes absolutely no sense?” (Corrington 2002, p. 141). 4 My usage of the “anthropocene” here is meant to follow in the work of Jeremy Davies who presents it as “a way of seeing” that “can work as a shock tactic. To say that the earth has changed so much that a whole new geological epoch has begun is a way of driving home the magnitude of recent damage to the living world.” Rather than promoting a universalism that absolves individual actors of responsibility, or providing a defense of a technocratic global elite as the saviors of our planet, Davies sees the “anthropocene” as a descriptor of a new epoch in geologic time, one that can encompass as well as celebrate the vast plurality of ecological responses to the effects of human power on the life and health of the planet and its organisms (Davies 2016, pp. 194–95). 5 This is, of course, a contentious portrayal of the anthropocene. For one recent criticism of this view, Donna Haraway argues that conceptions of the anthropocene seem to rely on “human exceptionalism and the utilitarian individualism of classical political economies,” which offer up a technocratic and pessimistic solution to environmental problems. She relates this to the “last gasps of the sky gods,” the monotheistic religious traditions that see divinity in a human form that transcends the earthly (Haraway 2016, p. 57). Religions 2017, 8, 130 4 of 18 work. Prior to this period, scholars of religion often treated an individual’s religious experience as a kind of preconceptual access to a world that imprinted itself on the subject independent of that person’s history, culture, or circumstance. Scholars of religion now see this position as woefully misguided. Instead, we ought to think about religious experiences as one way that people find meaning through a particular combination of their history, cultural frameworks, and the experience of physical things in the world.6 Religious experiences always happen in the midst of a complex web of processes that shape them to be what they are. The analogy with nature here should be evident: just as how “nature” once was taken to be an object sui generis that could impress itself upon people apart from their particular contexts, providing a source of normativity for human life that is removed from the social-cultural systems that have (potentially) led us astray, we now understand that there is no such thing out there that is not already mediated—both conceptually and physically—in some way by forms of human power. Consequently, there is no such experience of nature apart from the social frameworks of race, religion, gender, class, nationality, etc., all of which inform how we experience. It is here where we can also witness the move from what is sometimes called first-wave literary ecocriticism to its second-wave successor (Buell 2005). Whereas early forms of ecocriticism tended towards a celebration of the pristine quality of untouched natural lands and promoted efforts to legally, culturally, and biologically preserve those lands from human interference, second wave ecocriticism tends to take a more circumspect view of nature by beginning with the realization that too much focus on the untouched natural lands of the first wave tended to preclude questions about how “nature” is itself produced. In doing so, this second wave focuses on ways of representing environments that include more than just the wilderness, but also toxic waste dumps, the luxuries of ecotourism, and the variety of urban built spaces (Feldman and Hsu 2007, p. 200).7 As ecocritics take this criticism to heart, their work begins to show how “nature cannot be represented as something separate and complete in itself, but rather must be seen in material relation to socially differentiated bodies” (Feldman and Hsu 2007, pp. 205–6). Nevertheless, this thorough critique of “nature”, as a category treated apart from the social and historical forces that shore up its coherence, seems not yet to have been fully brought to bear on work exploring nature religion. Indeed, when Albanese (1990, p. 6) coined the term to refer to that somewhat diffuse collection of forms of religiosity that have a common way of “organizing reality” around a concern for the sacrality of nature, she was more interested in whether this proposed category could hold together as a descriptor of a “religious” phenomenon, as opposed to something quasi-or irreligious. Much of the conversation has followed this lead, asking whether it holds up as an accurate definition of “religion” without either dissolving all quasi-religious phenomena into religion proper or dismissing all phenomena that do not toe a rather narrow theological conception of what can count as religion (Berry 2011). That is to say, of the two constitutive conceptual components of “nature religion”, it has been the “religion” component that has garnered the bulk of scholars’ attention because it seeks to include a diverse array of religious phenomena under a single umbrella. In Albanese’s follow-up work, it is just this problem that draws her attention: she worries that “the appearance of nature religion dissolved almost as soon as it could be identified,” not because there are questions about the boundaries of the category “nature” and the various and diverse meanings it might have, but because she has trouble answering the question of “where does religion stop and something else begin?” (Albanese 2002, p. 23). “Nature” isn’t a problem for Albanese because she treats it as the “reality” in which human experience occurs, a stable point made up of the “forces and factors that delimit the human project—aspects of life over which humans, literally, have no control and before which they must bow” (Albanese 2002, p. 24). There isn’t a discussion of how this reality of “nature” shifts and 6 The classic presentation of this view was given by Proudfoot (1987). For more recent work that extends this view, (see Bush 2014; Taves 2009). 7 In this way, ecocritics are turning to the same environmental phenomena that sociologists pursuing environmental justice, such as David Pellow, have been exploring in recent years (Pellow 2002; Park and Pellow 2011). Religions 2017, 8, 130 5 of 18 morphs depending on how it is conceived, or whether the idea that there are forces outside of human control ceases to be an adequate way of describing nature in the anthropocene where we only have quasi-natural phenomena. As I will show below, Albanese, as well as much of the other nature religion literature, has trouble putting Emerson under the “nature religion” umbrella precisely to the extent to which he seems unsure of “nature” as a fixed reality in which human life participates. The discourse around “nature religion” has generally followed this path laid out by Albanese. For instance, Taylor and Horn (2006, p. 166) define “nature religion(s)” as “umbrella terms for religious perceptions and practices that, despite substantial diversity, are characterized by a reverence for nature and consider nature to be sacred in some way,” with an added sense that it involves “the feeling some people have of being bound, connected, or belonging to nature.” Taylor and Van Horn see this as a move away from efforts to achieve a transcendence of nature. For them, anti-transcendence opens the door to a different kind of nonsupernatualist religion that will inspire environmental action and a “reverence for life” (Taylor and Horn 2006, pp. 179–80). Similarly, Dacy (Dacy 2005, p. 1175) in The Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature describes “nature religion” as “a type of religion in which nature is the milieu of the sacred, and within which the idea of transcendence of nature is unimportant or irrelevant to religious practice.” There is a general tendency toward ecocentrism in these works, which explains the aversion to certain notions of “transcendence”. What is to be transcended is human culture and the problems therein, but not the natural world as the context in which all human thought and activity occurs. Indeed, it is the full-bodied “reality” or “nature” that ensures that “nature religion” can operate as a set of dispersed religious phenomena that all roughly employ a similar sense of the sacrality of a shared referent. Indeed, there isn’t much interrogation of what kind of creation theology would hold this “nature” together, or whether that theology is as shared as it is sometimes made out to be. In this regard, scholarship on nature religion is similar to first-wave ecocriticism. One of the places this commonality comes out most strongly is the tendency to treat Emerson as a stepping stone to Thoreau. When looking at the standard histories of US environmentalism that informs work on nature religion, there is no doubt that Thoreau is the more important figure, the one who inspires the earliest generations of explicitly environmentalist writers and who is credited as being perhaps the first American naturalist. In Thoreau’s work the land speaks to him in often finely attentive ways, ways to which he is more attuned and better at celebrating than the ephemeral-sounding Emerson.8 Indeed, Thoreau’s volumes of natural description and extended natural metaphor are so aesthetically superior to Emerson’s occasional observations that no one would dare put them on the same level. In Buell’s formative volume for understanding the American environmental imagination, he makes Thoreau’s treatment of the personified nonhuman world the central thread of the work, enacting a tradition of poetic animism that provides the bond between ecology and ethics. As Buell (1995, pp. 208–9) rightly describes the dominant paradigm of environmentalism in the US, Thoreau is seen as having a “personal intimacy with nature,” in which an animated Walden functions as “a living presence, not merely a ‘neighbor’ but a mentor, a role model.”9 When Buell offered his updated understanding of ecocriticism in 2005, Thoreau’s importance diminishes as a more global and justice-oriented literature rises to prominence, even though Buell 8 There is still a question (as there is for Emerson as well) of whether the later detailed naturalistic observations of Thoreau witness a religious disenchantment when compared to his earlier, more spiritually enthusiastic writing. As Hodder (2011, p. 473) puts it: “According to this decline narrative, as we might call it, at this watershed moment in his life [his late thirties into his forties]. Thoreau began to abandon his earlier spiritual euphoria, along with his former religious idealism, and devoted himself instead to a narrower set of scientific commitments.” Needless to say, oftentimes the literature that is more concerned with Thoreau’s naturalism as the archetypal environmentalist expression tends to view this as a positive change, rather than an extension of an coherent religious project from the beginning. In general, there is a tendency to “secularize” the prominent Transcendentalists when considering their contribution to the creation of a distinctive literary tradition. For an exploration of this, (see Van Anglen 1998). 9 Buell defends Thoreau’s blatant use of the pathetic fallacy as a means by which to present environmental care with a voice, a way of conceptualizing the environment as sacred on social terms. That is to say, because Thoreau was able to recognize an intimacy with nature through conceptualizing its presence to him in terms of human social relations, he was able to respond to it as though responding to a person—as, in a sense, allowing the things of the environment to speak to him in Religions 2017, 8, 130 6 of 18 hints at ways of bringing Thoreau into this conversation by expanding his concern beyond the strictly naturalistic literature inspired by him.10 Accounts that are more sympathetic to Emerson, such as Gatta (2004), still tend to find the fulfillment of the environmentalist turn in the ecocentric animism of Thoreau. Pitting Thoreau’s “hearty empiricism” against Emerson’s “metaphysical abstractions,” Gatta finds the latter to dwell too much on the idea that humans are creators of the visible world, and that the environment is too often nothing more than the mind’s projection (Gatta 2004, p. 89). Gatta reads Emerson as failing to attend properly to how his understanding of “nature” was historically mediated in those moments when he sensed that he had somehow gotten to the truth of nature by means of a heightened individual experience (Gatta 2004, p. 95). Thus, Thoreau is the one who finds a way of accounting for how human imaginative abilities “half-create” our interaction with a place, avoiding a simple celebration of the pristine and untouched wilderness by portraying the human-environment relationship as one of co-creation (Gatta 2004, p. 131). As Thoreau interprets nature through his carefully crafted empirical observations, he comes to self-consciousness about himself as interpreter. Thus, Gatta finds in Thoreau a less problematic theology of creation that makes the idea of living deliberately in close relation to the natural world an intentional act of acknowledged co-creation. In general, the literature on nature religion reinforces the picture given by the ecocritics, where Thoreau supersedes Emerson by taking significant steps to overcome his anthropic idealism with an ecocentrism that is informed by his scientific naturalism. Albanese’s work is emblematic in this regard, as she attributes to Emerson a confusion between “a view of matter as ‘really real’” and “a view of matter as illusion and unreality”—forcing a dilemma between choosing to view “nature as the embodiment of God” and thus the home for human life, or “transcending” nature “for higher things” (Albanese 1990, p. 82). She even argues that Emerson was aware of this shift from “Nature Major to Nature Minor” and felt the need to apologize for it once he realized that he was stuck in a problem that he was unable to remove himself from (Albanese 1990, pp. 85–87; 2002, p. 67). Thoreau, at least in Albanese’s earlier work, corrects some of what she sees as Emerson’s problem concerning the inherent “reality” of nature, replacing it with a more thoroughly “unchastened embrace of matter” (Albanese 1990, p. 87). Taylor and Horn (2006, pp. 169–70) reiterate this move, claiming that Thoreau and his inheritor John Muir were “far more interested in nature for its own sake than Emerson,” thus making them “naturalists who were more scientifically inclined than Emerson,” portraying their mentor Emerson as more representative of the strain of Transcendentalism that leads to contemporary New Age spiritualities than a deep environmental concern.11 The problem with all these moves from the symbolic “nature” of Emerson to the scientific naturalism of Thoreau is that the juxtaposition between Thoreau and Emerson—the empirical observer versus the metaphysical spiritualist—privileges an empirical model as the primary means by which to understand the environment, which is understood as a nature that exists waiting to be uncovered.12 his own language. He is able to treat Walden as a mentor precisely because he has augmented himself in order to stand in a relationship of intimacy with it. It is through nature’s personhood that Thoreau brings ecology and ethics together. 10 “But to think of the Walden persona, through an environmental justice lens, as struggling with the concerns of poverty, downward mobility, and chagrin at being socially reduced to the equivalent of an ethnic other helps both to define the book’s mental limits—the presumption of the still-comparatively privileged, subsidized Yankee likening his predicament to that of a wandering Native American basket-peddler—and to mark off what makes Walden a more searching ecocultural inquiry than much of the latter-day voluntary simplicity literature partly inspired by it” (Buell 2005, pp. 122–23). 11 Additionally, the three entries in the Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature that deal with Emerson, Thoreau, and the Transcendentalist movement, by Gould (2005), argue that Emerson cared more about nature’s symbolic power than its scientific importance, that Thoreau goes “beyond” Emerson with his scientific naturalism, but also Thoreau goes beyond most of the Transcendentalist movement in general, which she reads as interested in the moral and aesthetic value that “lay ‘behind’ or ‘inside’ external, natural phenomena,” showing their interest to lie more in a symbolic nature than an actually physically existing nature. 12 One could argue that Thoreau’s work pushes back on some of this simply juxtaposition. For instance, his claim in “Walking” that he lives a “border life” should cause us to question the very boundaries that seem necessary for a concept like the “natural”. Religions 2017, 8, 130 7 of 18 We are given the impression that if one is to be environmentally conscious, then he must become a naturalist. Often it seems that the conflation between environmentalism and naturalism is meant to express the rejection of any attempt at human transcendence—whether with a notion of divinity or not—because it would seem to distance one from a concern with nature. While “nature” is acknowledged to be a human construct for this model, it still treats it as though it is a reality somewhere out there awaiting exploration—and, we might add, conquered by a kind of masculinist knowledge of it. Consequently, a picture of nature as pristine wilderness seems to be lurking always in the background for this empiricism, always supplying that which is to be constructed by human cognition. What we lose, then, are the ways that nature is physically constructed by humans, not just conceptually. And the pristine wilderness seems again to run afoul of critiques of creation theology. What such a theology of creation fails to give us is a way of understanding that, for instance, our social and political systems have been inflected by racist ideologies and have formed the environment into a physical instantiation and instrument for the perpetuation of racism. Racialized human systems produced racialized environments. A theology of creation that doesn’t take this into account fails to allow us to attend to the ways that the formation of the environment comes to represent a type of slow violence, to use Rob Nixon’s term, one in which human actions cause changes in the environment which, in disproportionate ways, map onto socially marginalized peoples and cause them violence in long temporal durations (Nixon 2011, p. 2). That is to say, the physical landscape itself becomes the carrier for social injustice, remaking and remapping the environment according to social and political power—and there is no way of escaping this power.13 Let me consider one more preliminary concern before turning to my presentation of Emerson. To recuperate a sense of an Emersonian nature religion that gives us tools for thinking about the ambiguity of the human-environment relationship, we will need a way of understanding how nature religion can find forms of authority that are more than individual projection, that finds authority in the reality of nature even when “nature” is understood as a (partial) product of human power. Take, for instance, a criticism of Emerson made by Lundin (2005) that expresses a discontent with the modernity and the perceived liberalism of an Emersonian religion. In From Nature to Experience, Lundin tracks the loss of a kind of authority offered by the natural world as the locus of God’s revelation, which is replaced by a particularly American sense of the authority of individual experience. For Lundin, this is a story of the decline of religion (or, more appropriately, a certain understanding of Christian orthodoxy) in the face of secularizing pressures, a decline which can be seen in miniature in Emerson’s corpus.14 By turning the locus of authority from nature to experience, Lundin argues, the human becomes the measure of all things, and therefore the measure of nothing. Lundin has a reluctant sympathy for Emerson, who he reads as trying to preserve a thread of moral reality for nature through his doctrine of correspondence, as though Emerson saw the writing on the wall but was helpless to do anything about it. Many readers of Emerson (Lundin singles out Richard Poirier, but we might include Cavellians and Pragmatists of all stripes here as well) have de-divinized Emerson by removing that last thread of moral reality from him, emptying him of all his “metaphysical dimensions” (Lundin 2005, pp. 63, 65). From Lundin’s rhetoric, it is clear that this is a story of cultural 13 As Nixon (2011) notes, to respond to the contemporary situation of slow violence, more than a careful empirical attention to the environment is needed. In fact, the notion of wilderness that too often gets substituted for the environment in some ecocriticism as well as work on nature religion generally serves to obscure these formations of social and political power. Instead, we need creative representations that make visible what often goes invisible—i.e., the forms of environmental change that have disproportionate impacts on the socially marginalized because they occur in non-spectacular ways in ordinary everyday spaces. As Gottlieb (2006) pointed out above, there is no longer a sense of a nature that is not a product of or subject to human power—what we have no not are various and different environments, inflected in various ways by forms of human power and activity, and we need not look too far to find them, but we must make efforts to look. 14 In the short eight-year period from Nature to “Experience,” Lundin sees the crucial moment where American intellectual culture moves away from the authority of (Christian) tradition. This loss of traditional authority represented by the turn to experience would eventually take hold among the American pragmatists, culminating in the evacuation of all forms of non-experiential authority for the ungrounded, endless theorization that he claims to find in Richard Rorty (Lundin 2005, pp. 2–3, 8–9). Religions 2017, 8, 130 8 of 18 decline.15 As Lundin presents it, the loss of authority other than the self is a theological problem, and it is only made worse by an Emersonian theology which, as he conceives it, gives authority to individual experience against the authority of tradition, an authority that cannot be dethroned by anything other than the active self in its self-making activity. And if the active self is the only locus of authority, then there will be little regard for any ethical obligation imposed on the self from outside it—in this case, by one’s environment. In many ways this is one of the longstanding criticisms of Emersonian religion. A version of it is found in Orestes Brownson, the Transcendentalist turned Roman Catholic who departed with Emerson over the latter’s commitment to promoting the moral sentiment as an insight into one’s own soul, rather than seeing that morality required “obeying the command of a power out of him, above him, and independent of him” (Brownson 1991, p. 194). According to this criticism, the Emersonian active self that needs only to obey itself loses the sense of obligation entirely—or, as Brownson put it, morality becomes just “transcendental selfishness” and “pure egotism” (Brownson 1991, p. 196). Oftentimes this became, in Emerson’s day, the claim that Emerson dismissed traditional Christian practice when it seemed personally disagreeable to him, making it so that individual distaste becomes the primary determinate of one’s morality.16 One could offer a similar criticism of Cavell’s work and those inspired by him to the extent that it promotes an Emersonian self that is interested only in its untethered linguistic becoming (Buell 2003; Friedman 2009). Without some strong claimant outside the self that can serve as a source of authority that dampens the individual self, the criticism goes, the self swings too freely, and in the Cavellian case, revels too intently in its own playful creative power. Unfortunately, those who would make this criticism of Emersonian religion often hold a static conception of “authority”—that of a particular theological orthodoxy, either an orthodoxy of the book, church, or spirit. Without that, the criticism would go, there is nothing but the willing of the individual self. With that in mind, we must attempt to swim among these two pressures, neither succumbing to the tendency to defer human power to the power of nature, nor allowing the individual self to assume complete world-making power. Indeed, I will try to show that it is precisely in this tension that Emerson’s work can be informative. Furthermore, if we are to engage in a recuperative project of turning to Emerson for a nature religion that is fit for a twenty-first century understanding of the often tangled and mutually constitutive humans-environments relation, then we will need to be doubly insecure about our conceptual pairing of “nature” and “religion”. Neither stands as a constant grounded by the other: “nature” is the not the universal reality or shared context that collects a diverse set of religious phenomena, and “religion” is not a theologically constant phenomenon that collects diverse notions of nature into a single discourse. Because the scholarly literature had dealt with the latter concern for what is religious about “nature religion, in the next section I focus on just the former of these concerns by giving an account of Emerson as suppling an ideal of intimacy with the world that preserves the sense of human responsibility (not collapsing human agency in the ecocentric moves that have been characteristic of movements in deep ecology), while eschewing complete human autonomy from physical environments (the claim of anthropomorphic approaches to the environment). Through a cauldron of self, community, and environment, various competing senses of authority emerge. This, I claim, is a product of Emerson’s idealism when understood properly. That is, his idealism is not concerned with the mastery of creation through “manipular” means, nor is it about metaphysical abstraction (or, alternatively, transcendence) to the point of disregard for the 15 The last line of his book reinstitutes the kind of authority that he feels has been lost in the liberal turn to experience: “In that silence [of the cross], we may hear a word of abiding comfort, and in this insulted face, we may see an authority that we can indeed call master” (Lundin 2005, p. 202). 16 This claim continues today. For instance, in Barbara Packer’s analysis of the Lord’s Supper Sermon, Emerson rejects the rite because of the “boredom” that he felt towards it “elevat[ing] distaste into a principle of criticism,” which she reads as an instance of religious “indifference” (Packer 2007, p. 9). Religions 2017, 8, 130 9 of 18 physical—rather, it is about a careful acknowledgment of the power of human creativity and the need for that creativity to be wielded appropriately in relation to the very real bonds of the self that normatively bind it. 3. Emersonian “Nature” “Religion” It would be wrong to suppose that Emerson had a single conception of “nature” throughout his career. Indeed, there is a way that he is building his idealist conception of nature throughout his corpus. Accordingly, to make my case that Emersonian “nature” can be helpful for a different kind of nature religion, I will focus on four essays from different periods of his life: Nature (1836), “The Method of Nature” (1841), “Nature” (1844), and “Illusions” (1860). These essays are by no means exhaustive, but when read together, they present some of the fundamental aspects of how Emerson approached nature, as well as many of the elements that scholars have found to be anathema for an environmental concern. My goal, in particular, will be to develop an Emersonian notion of ecstasy in relation to religious piety, and to show how this relates both to the environment and the function of human agency. Although his first book, Nature, stands as perhaps his most well-read exposition of a transcendentalist view of “nature,” it is not without its ambiguities—something that the literature on nature religion has been right to identify. From the beginning of the book we are told that there are two senses of nature: first, the “philosophical” sense that separates Nature (or the “not-me”) from Soul (the human subject); and, second, the “common sense” of nature, which treats it as “essences unchanged by man,” separate from Art, which is the mixture of human will and nature (CW 1:8).17 The glibness of the way these positions are presented, in conjunction with the assertion that the differences between the philosophical and the common senses of nature will cause “no confusion” for his inquiry, already seems to indicate that something sly is happening. It is as if we are led from the outset to be suspicious of this distinction between soul/human and nature, primed to see perhaps how this Cartesian inheritance doesn’t hold up to critical scrutiny. Indeed, the arc of the first main section of the extended essay, appropriated labeled “Nature”, culminates with a subtle rejoinder to those who would treat nature and the human as distinct. We might begin our inquiries with the sense that nature is “the integrity of impression made by manifold natural objects” which the poet has the eyes to see as though an independent witness to a manifold imparting ideas or sentiments according to its own integrity, but we end the chapter with the realization that our “delight” in nature is self-produced, that “Nature always wears the colors of the spirit;” that is, our spirit (no longer just the poet’s), which can be joyful one day and “overspread with melancholy” the next, plays a determining part in dictating how these supposed “essences unchanged by man” are seen (CW 1:9–10). Even the so-called transparent eyeball passage is said to occur “in good health,” prompting us to wonder what such an experience might look like to one in “poor” health (CW 1:9). This, of course, draws attention to the infamous “crack” that generations of scholarship have pointed to as Emerson’s admission that his attempt to weld together the realism of the first five chapters with the idealism of the last two chapters—using his transitional “Idealism” chapter—ends up being a failure. The “Idealism” chapter seems at best to waver in what it aims to do. It gives us the five ways that one might understand idealism (“motion, poetry, physical and intellectual science, and religion”) but ultimately doesn’t seem to favor one over the others. Instead, Emerson discloses that he has “no hostility to nature, but a child’s love to it” and that “all right education” ought to go towards promoting the realization of “man’s connexion with nature” (CW 1:35–36). In fact, the chapter both begins and ends with the importance of the “active” over the “reflective” as a means to respond 17 Emerson’s distinction between me and not-me calls to mind Fichte’s distinction between Ich and Nicht-Ich, which Emerson would most likely have received at second-hand through a combination of Thomas Carlyle, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Victor Cousin, and Frederick Henry Hedge (Greenham 2012, pp. 70–81). Religions 2017, 8, 130 10 of 18 to the “noble doubt” that idealism raises about the existence of the world apart from the human, culminating with the claim that philosophy and virtue cannot simply take the position of watchers in an ideal world, but must marry this “watching” to “doing” (CW 1:30, 36).18 Importantly, it is love that Emerson returns to at the end of the book, excoriating a materialist science and philosophy that seeks only to fill up notebooks with facts about nature, urging the naturalist to attend also to himself and his position in which “the axis of vision is not coincident with the axis of things” (CW 1:43). In the end, then, the naturalist needs not only to “perceive” nature, but must love it as well, love it in such a way that his “thought is devout, and devotion is thought.” Admonishing the cold naturalist not to forget the importance of his love does not strictly solve the idealist-realist division, because it doesn’t tell us the true nature of our subjective influence on an objective world. Nevertheless, this affective dimension of one’s love for nature—one of Emerson’s inheritances from the Romantic tradition and his Aunt Mary Moody—reverberates throughout the corpus. In the essay “Love” from Essays: First Series, Emerson writes that he is pained by the accusation that his lectures have been too intellectual, and thus “unjustly cold to the personal relations” (CW 2:101). In response, he links together three ideas: the sense that “persons are love’s world,” the power of nature to evoke this love, and the impact of love on the “social instincts.” For Emerson, this is a linkage that occurs in youth and reverberates throughout the life of the individual even as she might no longer be able to “see” nature in that youthful way (CW 2:102). What is striking about this essay is Emerson’s usage of a kind of animism to describe how nature can be an object of love that becomes ethically significant. Through this love, “Nature grows conscious.”19 Emerson even evokes the idea of the flower, among other things in nature, as a kind of intelligent being.20 What the essay is concerned with is the “training” for a love that looks for virtue and wisdom everywhere, and uses an affection for the natural world as a place in which to cultivate this virtue and wisdom (CW 2:109). Emerson is clear that there is a current of idealism operating below the surface here: it is not that when one looks on nature with the right eye one sees it as it truly is, but that when one looks on nature with a particular kind of eye for it, then it will become the kind of animated intelligent thing to which we ethically respond. Emerson accepts the Kantian point that we do not see nature as it really is, but he rejects the idea that this empties nature of its ethical power in shaping us. The sin, as Wendell Berry (2000, pp. 7–8) points out, is not that our ideas imprison us, but that we presume “to reduce life to the scope of our understanding,” which “is inevitably to enslave it, make property of it, and put it up for sale.” When we do this, we reduce the “moral complexity” of the world. So far so good, one might say, but that doesn’t do much to answer our worries about the crack between realism and idealism. His 1841 lecture, “The Method of Nature,” goes a long way towards refining his position on just this point. In this lecture, Emerson develops the importance of a position of ecstasy, which he connects with a kind of religious piety and receptivity that stresses both love over knowledge and an “intimate divinity” (CW 1:136). Like many from the period, the lecture intends to argue against a materialist and empirical reduction of nature to merely a tool for human 18 Greenham (2014, pp. 89–90) sees Nature as an attempt to bring together idealism with the active shaping of a “nature” which is not separate from the human: “Nature, at the last, for Emerson, is not something material that exists in opposition to us, in excess of us; nature is that which we are inside and out. This is what Transcendentalism means. It is the discovery of ourselves through the process of giving shape to the natural world.” 19 This is also a common sentiment in the journals. For instance, in a passage related to Nature: “I love the wood god. I love the mighty PAN. Yesterday I walked in the storm. And truly in the fields I am not alone or unacknowledged. They nod to me & I to them” (J 5:179). 20 “Every bird on the boughs of the tree sings now to [the youth’s] heart and soul. The notes are almost articulate. The clouds have faces, as he looks on them. The trees of the forest, the waving grass and the peeping flowers have grown intelligent; and he almost fears to trust them with the secret which they seem to invite. Yet nature soothes and sympathizes. In the green solitude he finds a dearer home than with men.” (CW 2:103). The personification of the flower as having important value for ethical formation is a common thread in Romanticism. Wordsworth (2002, p. 85) writes about the daffodils in The Grasmere Journal: “I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about & about them, some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness & the rest tossed & reeled & danced & seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the Lake.” Religions 2017, 8, 130 11 of 18 advancement, a collection of facts cataloged in scientific journals to promote better consumptive practices. Emerson includes the metaphysical philosophers among those who engage in this reduction, since they attempt to analyze and observe nature to come to some ultimate indubitable cause of all things. These intellectual projects are bound to fail because they approach nature in the wrong mood, trying to wield intellectual power over it, as a thing fit for their ways of seeing. To them, Emerson proclaims: “Known [nature] will not be, but gladly beloved and enjoyed” (CW 1:125).21 Trying to “know” nature is related to the grander pretense of humans to suppose that their welfare is the final end that the natural world pursues at all cost: i.e., “to make holy or wise or beautiful men.” To counter, Emerson argues that nature has a “universe of ends,” not all of which aim to the benefit of humans, and as such, its work must be represented as one of “ecstasy”—”that redundancy or excess of life” that is “the genius or method of nature” (CW 1:125, 127). Emerson puts this view into the voice of nature as it speaks to presumptuous human creatures who wish to see themselves as the focus of the world’s development: “my aim is the health of the whole tree,—root, stem, leaf, flower, and seed,—and by no means the pampering of a monstrous pericarp at the expense of all the other functions” (CW 1:126). The pericarp metaphor serves a dual purpose: as the part of the tree that is most often eaten by humans, we would suppose that if the tree were created for human benefit, the pericarp would certainly be comparatively monstrous, drawing resources at the expense of the rest of the tree; however, the pericarp is also the human, that one fruit on a larger tree that feeds it, but not at the expense of everything else. So while we are not “strangers or inferiors” to nature, and “it is flesh of our flesh, and bone of our bone,” this does not mean that our being a part of nature ought to bring us comfort (CW 1:123). For to know that the progress of nature aims to the benefit of better humans is to subscribe to a creation teleology that Emerson would say represents human hubris. Emerson believes that certain scientific advances, in fields such as astronomy especially, ought to enlarge how we understand theology so as decenter the human in our understanding of the universe, helping us to move away from those doctrines—he singles out the “theological scheme of Redemption”—that would put the human at the center of the universe’s concern (CS 4:156–57). In keeping with the emphasis on doing, ecstasy is not meant to breed inaction—precisely the opposite. Indeed, one must move from the universals of nature conceived in the reason to particular actions in the world. For the human to have the “ecstatical state” take place within—a kind of mirror of the world without—then one should become the “channel through which heaven flows to earth,” acting in accordance with the demands put upon one by the work that must be done (CW 1:130). This is why one must be “receptive”—a religious posture which Emerson equates to both “piety” and “veneration” (CW 1:130). The implication is not that one needs to have a kind of mystical withdraw in which one receives communication from nature that instructs him on what to do. Quite the contrary. Reception or piety means that one must be an active ethical agent in the world who is seeking always a better and better realization of the needs that must be fulfilled in the present. Importantly, though, one must do this in a particular way: “This ecstatical state seems to direct a regard to the whole and not to the parts; to the cause and not to the ends; to the tendency, and not to the act” (CW 1:131). What Emerson means here is that one cannot simply perform a set of acts and think that he has gotten it right. These acts must be performed with an eye towards the “spiritual” or the “supernatural”—otherwise the acts are just “a cup of enchantments” that seeks after self-satisfaction or the achievement of human ends. Our gods must always be “approached, never touched,” because our acts aspire towards a grander world than we could imagine, where we are overpowered by an enthusiastic love for the world, not a love of a set of some things in it (CW 1:133). This love is opposed to mastery and control, it “looks up and not down; aspires and not despairs” (CW 1:134). It is in this way that Emerson, probably to the chagrin of liberal Unitarians in his own day, can praise the dignity of a fading Puritanism, where “privation, self-denial, and sorrow” were valued 21 There are resonances here with Cavell (2002, pp. 242–43) reading of skepticism. Religions 2017, 8, 130 12 of 18 above all else, and where “A man was born not for prosperity, but to suffer for the benefit of others, like the noble rock-maple which all around our villages bleeds for the service of man” (CW 1:135). Nature’s lesson, according to Emerson, is “intimate divinity,” one which keeps the best parts of Puritan piety and its sense of humble service, but which gets rid of the divorce between “intellect and holiness” and stresses the importance of performance in the world, or taking learning and “reducing” it to practice. With an intimate divinity, among its many meanings, we get the sense of how humans are to shoulder the responsibility of responding to the claims that the world issues to us, without neglecting the special world-making power that the human has. Intimacy is here not an intellectual relationship only, but a relationship of affection, or being drawn up by one’s love to promoting a better world than the present. This world won’t be saved by technology, since the pursuit of mastery through technology, both material and intellectual, leads people to suppose falsely that nature ineluctably aims towards human gain. Nature is in what he calls “perpetual inchoation,” constantly rebuking the human who considers her aspirations to be the final ends of nature, a point which has recently taken hold among environmental ethicists thinking about technology in the anthropocene.22 Furthermore, Emerson is anticipating one of the common criticisms of contemporary ecotheology: that a certain ecological picture of the harmonious functioning of the parts of creation seems to condone wanton cruelty, especially between and among animals, because the virtue of ecological stability depends on the suffering of countless creatures in ways unfathomable to the limited comprehension of humans. Emerson’s response is to say that when confronted with this suffering, we ought to take it as an occasion for a realization of ecstasy, that is, an indication of the overflowing of what we could possibly comprehend about nature. In this ecstatic moment, we check our world-making powers, discovering that there is more out there than what we can manage—and a theology that rationalizes this suffering through a theodicy limits our ability to see the perpetual inchoation of nature. By the time he publishes “Nature” in 1844, the question of how one might come into harmony with this nature had only intensified. What was a young naturalist to do: leave the social world of the town in search of some closer relationship with the natural world, as many of Emerson’s friends had done at both Fruitlands and Brook Farm? For the question of nature religion, we should wonder what kind of worship one might perform—what would it mean to take nature as sacred and therefore direct one’s religious practice towards it. In this sense, Emerson’s later “Nature” essay can be read as a direct confrontation with a nascent back-to-the-land movement among his peers, and for our purposes, it seems to lodge some of the claims that will eventually become most problematic for what I presented above as the nature religion tradition. “Nature” begins with an unsurprising vision of “nature” as a resource that a young sojourner can use to escape the “knapsack of custom” that one finds in cities and human society, where he might find a “sanctity which shames our religions, and reality which discredits our heroes” (CW 3:99). Nature is a god-like judge of all things outside of human culture, carrying an authority to judge that culture and find it wanting (CW 3:100). In other words, nature is simultaneously a refuge outside of the human, and a resource that can correct the human. Some will enter this realm, leaving “villages and personalities behind,” which he likens to a taking of religious vows (CW 3:101). This is the view that Emerson will label natura naturata, or nature passive; it is that created thing that stands apart from the human and which the human represents always in a slightly corrupted way, and by which the human can be measured, like a “differential thermometer” (CW 3:104). Poets and artists praise this nature; naturalists seek it out; it is the realm of unlimited beauty and unfathomable depths. To the chagrin of the young naturalist—and perhaps the whole of the nature religion tradition—Emerson is not finally content with this view. He spends the rest of the essay trying to present an alternative, one that ultimately comes to trouble the very idea of a “nature”. The turn in 22 As Rolston (2017) argues, as we confront the fact of the anthropocene, we ought not to do so with enthusiasm, lest we risk making our world entirely subservient to human flourishing. Religions 2017, 8, 130 13 of 18 the essay occurs when Emerson comes to the realization that “we talk of deviations from natural life, as if artificial life were not also natural” (CW 3:106). Then, with a fell swoop, Emerson breaks down the distinction between nature and human society: Nature who made the mason, made the house. We may easily hear too much of rural influences. The cool disengaged air of natural objects, makes them enviable to us chafed and irritable creatures with red faces, and we think we shall be as grand as they, if we camp out and eat roots; but let us be men instead of woodchucks, and the oak and the elm shall gladly serve us, though we sit in chairs of ivory on carpets of silk. (CW 3:106) This is Emerson’s sense of natura naturans, or efficient nature: the idea that nature is a whole that works in and through the various parts, the human especially, so much so that there ceases to be a distinction between nature and its opposite (here, the artificial, or the opulence of “chairs of ivory and carpets of silk”). One of the few to draw out the environmentalist implications of this move is Anderson (2008), who sees in it the sense that humans are involved in a complex relation of making and receiving with the various environments in which they are situated. By focusing on the importance of natura naturans, Anderson gives a reading of nature as not a passive recipient of human action, but as an agency that runs through the human, “doing, creating, making, moving.” As Anderson puts it, “Nature is now not an objective environment but a creative environing” (Anderson 2008, pp. 154–55). This way of understanding the relationship between the human and the environment rejects the supposition that agency is an either/or: either the human is the active creative agent and nature the canvas, or nature is the active creative agent who merely works through the passive human. The former would lead to the Baconian view of nature as an instrument of human ends, one which White (1967) attributed to the dominance of a certain Christian understanding of the mastery of nature; the latter resembles a form of deep ecology that rejects entirely the constructive special agency of humans because of the intuition that nature is a kind of nondistinct unity (see Fox 1984). These extremes are, of course, well-worn in conversations in environmental ethics, and it is now common to search out some middle or alternative way. Emerson’s model is one such alternative. Anderson rightly focuses on the line quoted above, where Emerson reminds us to “be men instead of woodchucks.” What this means is that we accept that we have a kind of agency that is part of nature’s agency: “We are this aspect of nature, and we become ‘not ourselves’ if we slip into the state of mere witnesses of nature’s judging perfection” (Anderson 2008, p. 155). There is a sense here that Emerson is trying to escape two problems, which I identified at the end of the previous section: first, not succumbing to the tendency to defer human power to the power of nature, while, second, not allowing the individual self to assume complete self-making power.23 To fall prey to the first problem is to insist that humans are merely another iteration of nature, and the highest good is that one return to a sense of the pristine created order of nature, camping out and eating roots. To do this would be to relinquish any claim to the world-making power that humans have both collectively and individually.24 But to go in the other direction, by supposing that humans are somehow distinct from and therefore entirely separate from nature, is to promote the worst kind of egoism for Emerson, an egoism that only drives the materialist and consumerist aspects of culture that make the world a commodity to be cataloged, processed, and exploited. For Emerson, we ought neither to deflate our agency to the agency of our environments, nor should our agency become entirely independent from the environments in which we live, work, and play. These environments are not complete—they are “systems of approximations,” which are always changing in part due to human power, as well as reasons that humans only faintly 23 Greenham (2014, p. 90) rightfully puts it this way: “Emerson is of nature only insofar as he makes nature, and as nature’s creator he does not share in its limitations but expresses through it the shaping power of his divinity.” 24 You might say that it negates the possibility of ethical agency entirely. As Mooney (2009, p. 215) puts it: “If you reject the notion that ‘I am the doer’ in every sense, you reject the possibility of a philosophy of human action, and you lose all experiential purchase for reflection on reality as sustaining responsibility in an inexpugnable sense: namely, the possibility of responding, of our responding, in a way that is not arbitrary. Abstractly stated, man is a finite center of response.” Religions 2017, 8, 130 14 of 18 understand. We thus ought to see ourselves as “encamped in nature, not domesticated,” wielding our world-making power in ways that are attentive to the very real connections that we have with the natural world (CW 3:110). It is both to honor the way that nature works through the human, while preserving the sense that humans have creative abilities to shape and reconfigure nature. For Anderson, to do this we need the notion of an “acquaintance” with nature: “One must engage nature directly to know by acquaintance; this is the enduring relevance of wilderness to human beings” (Anderson 2008, p. 156). The idea of acquaintance requires that the active self and the not-me of nature (in the language of Nature) work together through reciprocity, transaction, and integration, assuming “an attitude that is at once receptive to nature’s language and open to human possibility” (Anderson 2008, pp. 158–59). Whereas “The Method of Nature” focused on ecstasy, in “Nature” Emerson focuses on excess: both nature and the human have a kind of excess that prevents them from being set, from being a stable thing to which we can refer. Consequently, as for “men and women” as well as “silent trees,” there is “always a referred existence, an absence, never a presence and satisfaction” (CW 3:112). Those who might wish to set themselves aright by bringing themselves in accord with nature discover that when they go looking for it, they will discover that they are “not near enough to his object” because “Nature is still elsewhere” (CW 3:111). But rather than despair of this, Emerson reminds us that this is precisely what ethics requires. As his is a perfectionism, it must always look out on a distant horizon. “The meeting of the sky and the earth,” looked at from the smallest hill to the highest mountain, inspires action even as we are unable to get nearer to it. We are thrown back to the impermanence of our own ideas, of the work that must continually be performed without end, as the creatures we are. Thus, Emerson can say towards the end: “Nature is the incarnation of a thought, and turns to a thought again, as ice becomes water and gas. The world is mind precipitated, and the volatile essence is forever escaping again into the state of free thought. Hence the virtue and pungency of the influence on the mind, of natural objects, whether inorganic or organized” (CW 3:113). With the flowing impermanence of nature, Emerson affirms his moral perfectionism, which depends on a constantly extended horizon, and now has its mirror in how we experience “nature”. Let me end this section by turning to “Illusions,” the final essay of The Conduct of Life from 1860. In many ways, “Illusion” presents the culmination of Emerson’s idealism, directly dealing with the way that the human constitution—and the lack of awareness that we have of how our own powers determine how the world is present to us—amplifies the question of the environment. He sums this up with a rather poignant example: “At the State Fair, a friend of mine complained that all the varieties of fancy pears in our orchards seem to have been selected by somebody who had a whim for a particular kind of pear, and only cultivated such as had that perfume; they were all alike” (CW 6:9.9). The problem is that we do not know ourselves yet, and this makes it so that “Our conversation with Nature is not just what it seems” (CW 6:9.5). We cannot take our experiences of nature to be unmixed: “In admiring the sunset, we do not yet deduct the rounding, coördinating, pictorial powers of the eye” (CW 6:9.5). Emerson even reiterates that sentiment that he had given in Nature, that our joy is not the world’s job, but it is something that we inscribe on the world, that colors it in certain ways. Or as he says, recalling his earlier essay, “Life is an ecstasy.” (CW 6:9.6). As such, it isn’t imperative that one strike out into the wilderness to find home, to leave the cities and towns that perpetuate the problems of human society; instead, the only “stays and foundations” that we have are “a strict and faithful dealing at home, and a severe barring out of all duplicity or illusion there” (CW 6:9.17). Read this way, with an emphasis on home and the practical activities performed therein, “Illusions” is not a grand statement about the unreality of our environments, but a constant reminder not to be looking elsewhere for the source of our activities in the world. Ecstasy returns again as the position in which we check human hubris, relinquishing that theology that would make us more than what we actually are, but never reducing the human to just a power of the world for fear that this would annul agency altogether. Religions 2017, 8, 130 15 of 18 4. Conclusions As I hope is coming into focus, there is a way that Emerson’s “nature” resembles more what we would now call “environment” because it seeks to avoid the totalizing of the not-human into a coherent and sound whole. Instead, it stresses the importance of the effects of human power in shaping nature—both our idea of nature, as well as the actual physical reality of nature—while stressing that the human is always intimately made by the environments in which we live. This is simultaneously a call to action and a call to humble oneself, to do the work that the human has the power to perform, while not supposing that the human has a special relationship for the benefit of nature. But more than anything, Emerson’s confusion for the reality or illusion of nature is not unintended—it is part of the very ethos of ecstasy that he is hoping to inspire. When the nature religion tradition seeks to relinquish the tension between the dual ways that the human can relate to the surrounding environments, it domesticates the relationship and loses aspects of what Emerson believes is powerful about it: that our experience in the world isn’t systematically coherent, but involves always a kind of doubleness.25 Furthermore, too often ethics stops before we get to practice—constructing a conceptual ideal but not saying how this might function within a set of ordinary social practices, the practices in which we are made and remade into the kinds of beings that we are and want to be. For Emerson, one of his essential question is: how ought religious institutions, which often coordinate the practices of a community, be reformed to better express higher ethical ideals. At certain moments, he goes so far as to say that “church” is just another word for “education” (EL 3:287). The fullest expression of this idea comes in The Conduct of Life, which seeks to describe in abstract ethical terms how the ordinary activities of people should be oriented towards their ethical development. Here, Emerson doesn’t specify exactly which practices people ought to take up, but rather, he gives the general rubric under which we ought to think about those practices if the goal is to make religious worship more carefully attuned to pressing ethical demands. What, then, can we say about an Emersonian Nature Religion? For many decades Emerson had been arguing that science and religion were more closely aligned than most of his contemporaries had thought. In fact, he rejected the idea that they were merely compatible for the idea that they were coming upon the same territory when properly understood. This meant rejecting both the idea that religion is concerned with the supernatural (or, that which is above scientific investigation) and the idea that science has no bearing on human moral becoming (in other words, he does not keep fact and value distinct). The goal, rather, is to allow scientific advances to have moral consequences. As he writes: “The religion which is to guide and fulfil the present and coming ages, whatever else it be, must be intellectual. The scientific mind must have a faith which is science” (CW 6:6.51). He then predicted what he thought this might be like: “There will be a new church founded on moral science, at first cold and naked, a babe in a manger again, the algebra and mathematics of ethical law, the church of men to come, without shawms, or psaltery, or sackbut; but it will have heaven and earth for its beams and rafters; science for symbol and illustration; it will fast enough gather beauty, music, picture, poetry” (CW 6:6.52). There are two important pieces to note. First we see Emerson’s long insistence that religious institutions be primarily focused on the moral lives of their members by being willing to let go of what Emerson saw as antiquated ecclesiastical rituals—this is his intentionally arcane reference to shawms, psaltery, and sackbut. These will be replaced by a church that is fully situated in and of the world, with “heaven and earth for its beams and rafters,” without reference to any other. It will take on science as “symbol and illustration,” meaning that its core content is represented by the actual investigation of our world in conjunction with our moral reflection on it (here, moral science and natural science are brought together). This church includes the production of and reflection upon representational material (“beauty, music, picture, poetry”) all of which express human ideals. This is, 25 One of the best expositions of this doubleness and its importance for ethical considerations of the self, see (Smith 2009). Religions 2017, 8, 130 16 of 18 of course, part of a continual practice in which representations must be environmental. In Cavell’s words, it is the community in search of achieving the ordinary. But this church doesn’t require an escape into untouched nature.26 It is a church of the community where it is located, for the people of that community, not, we might say, for woodchucks. It would seek to instill a sense of receptivity and piety in people, a meditation on the ecstasy of the environment that checks human hubris. But one can imagine that its “science” is not that of just the naturalist, but as much that of the investigating toxins surrounding the garbage dump, or the antibiotic resistant bacteria. 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Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 26 As Mark Cladis has pointed out to me many times in our conversations, there is a better understanding of “wilderness,” drawn from a “radical” Romantic tradition, that actually requires this kind of church because it doesn’t see the wild as something distant from us, but as part of our everyday experience of who we are and the communities in which we live. Religions 2017, 8, 130 17 of 18 Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1989–1992. The Complete Sermons of Ralph Waldo Emerson. 4 vols. Edited by Albert J. Von Frank. Columbia: University of Missouri Press. Feldman, Mark D., and Hsuan L. Hsu. 2007. Introduction: Race, Environment, and Representation. Discourse 29: 199–214. Fox, Warwick. 1984. Deep Ecology: A New Philosophy of our Time? The Ecologist 14: 194–200. Friedman, Randy L. 2009. Review essay on Listening on All Sides: Toward an Emersonian Ethics of Reading by Richard Deming. Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society 45: 114–20. Friesner, Nicholas Aaron. 2017. Emerson’s Transcendentalism of Common Life. Soundings: An Interdisciplinary Journal 100: 143–68. [CrossRef] Gatta, John. 2004. Making Nature Sacred: Literature, Religion, and Environment in America from the Puritans to the Present. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gould, Rebecca Kneale. 2005. “Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1803–1882)”, “Thoreau, Henry David (1817–1862)”, and “Transcendentalism”. In The Encyclopedia of Religion and Nature. 2 vols. Edited by Bron R. Taylor and Jeffrey Kaplan. London: Continuum. Gottlieb, Roger S. 2006. Religion and Ecology—What Is the Connection and Why Does it Matter? In The Oxford Handbook of Religion and Ecology. Edited by Roger S. Gottlieb. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 3–21. Greenham, David. 2012. Emerson’s Transatlantic Romanticism. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Greenham, David. 2014. Nature. In Ralph Waldo Emerson in Context. Edited by Wesley T. Mott. New York: Cambridge University Press, pp. 84–91. Haraway, Donna. 2016. Staying with the Trouble: Making Kin in the Chthulucene. Durham: Duke University Press. Hodder, Alan D. 2011. The Gospel According to this Moment: Thoreau, Wildness, and American Nature Religion. Religion and the Arts 15: 460–85. [CrossRef] Lundin, Roger. 2005. From Nature to Experience: The American Search for Cultural Authority. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. Mooney, Edward F. 2009. Lost Intimacy in American Thought: Recovering Personal Philosophy from Thoreau to Cavell. New York: Continuum. Nixon, Rob. 2011. Slow Violence and the Environmentalism of the Poor. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Packer, Barbara. 2007. Signing Off: Religious Indifference in America. In There Before Us: Religion, Literature, and Culture from Emerson to Wendell Berry. Edited by Roger Lundin. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing, pp. 1–22. Park, Lisa Sun-Hee, and David Naguib Pellow. 2011. The Slums of Aspen: Immigrants vs. The Environment in America’s Eden. New York: New York University Press. Pellow, David Naguib. 2002. Garbage Wars: The Struggle for Environmental Justice in Chicago. Cambridge: MIT Press. Proudfoot, Wayne. 1987. Religious Experience. Berkeley: University of California Press. Roberts, Tyler. 2013. Encountering Religion: Responsibility and Criticism after Secularism. New York: Columbia University Press. Rolston, Holmes. 2017. The Anthropocene: Beyond the Natural? In The Oxford Handbook of Environmental Ethics. Edited by Stephen M. Gardiner and Allen Thompson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 62–73. Smith, David L. 2009. “Who Shall Define to Me an Individual?” Emerson on Self, World, and God. American Journal of Theology & Philosophy 30: 191–211. Taves, Ann. 2009. Religious Experience Reconsidered: A Building-Block Approach to the Study of Religion and Other Special Things. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Taylor, Bron R., and Gavin Van Horn. 2006. Nature Religion and Environmentalism in North America. In Faith in America: Changes, Challenges, New Directions. Edited by Charles H. Lippy. Westport: Praeger Publishers, vol. 3, pp. 165–90. Van Anglen, Kevin. 1998. Reading Transcendentalist Texts Religiously: Emerson, Thoreau, and the Myth of Secularization. In Seeing into the Life of Things: Essays on Literature and Religious Experience. Edited by John L. Mahoney. New York: Fordham University Press, pp. 152–70. White, Lynn, Jr. 1967. The Historical Roots of our Ecologic Crisis. Science 155: 1203–7. [CrossRef] [PubMed] http://dx.doi.org/10.5325/soundings.100.2.0143 http://dx.doi.org/10.1163/156852911X580793 http://dx.doi.org/10.1126/science.155.3767.1203 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/17847526 Religions 2017, 8, 130 18 of 18 Whyte, Kyle, and Chris Cuomo. 2017. Ethics of Caring in Environmental Ethics: Indigenous and Feminist Philosophies. In The Oxford Handbook of Environmental Ethics. Edited by Stephen M. Gardiner and Allen Thompson. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 234–47. Wordsworth, Dorothy. 2002. The Grasmere and Alfoxden Journals. Edited by Pamela Woof. Oxford: Oxford University Press. © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction “Nature Religion” and Symbolic “Nature” Emersonian “Nature” “Religion” Conclusions 
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work_jok34khmtneohp67ae4nfb7e34	----	ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 1 of 12 Association of Commonwealth Universities—Centenary Conference Future Forward: Taking Charge of Change October 16-18, 2013 Senate House, University of London I LOVE YOU, YOU’RE PERFECT, NOW CHANGE The New Relationship Between Universities and the World They Serve Colleagues, friends: It is a pleasure to be with you, and an honour to speak to you—but never more so than on this special occasion for the ACU. Always leave ‘em wanting more. That’s the hidden ethic of Broadway theatre, and it’s Broadway that provided the inspiration for the title of my presentation today. I have no doubt that whatever I have accomplished in my time with UBC, whatever any of us may accomplish as Vice-Chancellors, we will leave ‘em wanting more. And then our successors will be faced with the chorus we’ve all been listening to for several years now: I love you. You perfect. Now change. I love you, you’re perfect, now change. Those three little phrases nobody wants to hear. Whether it’s government asking us to ‘tweak’ our research agenda to speed up commercialization; industry questioning our ability to meet the need for skilled workers; grantors placing geographical limits on eligibility for funding; or students wondering why our entire course calendar and library system aren’t online yet; we are getting it from all sides, in every relationship we’re a part of. We love you, we need you, you’re fabulous, now if you could just be … different. ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 2 of 12 You’re not commercial enough; not “pure research” enough. Not practical enough; not academic enough. Not local enough or national enough. Not digital enough; not real-world enough. Not enough. Relationships! They’re enough to make a university president and vice-chancellor run for the self-help books. Or, more realistically, given our schedules, to an Internet Top 10 list. I did, I Googled. I admit it. I did it for all of us. And you’re going to want to hear this:  Top 10 Advantages of Being in a Relationship – these include “higher self- esteem” and “not having to dress up all the time,” both of which I would argue about in our case;  Top 10 Excuses You Make to Stay in a Bad Relationship – these include, “But it’s comfortable!”  And last but not least, Top 10 Relationship Killers – number one of which is “changing yourself to please—or to try to hang onto—your relationship partner.” I could have called my presentation “Managing Change on Your Terms,” but I didn’t because I thought we could really use a more provocative perspective on the situation right about now … as well as a bit of a laugh. The laughs have been hard to come by lately, haven’t they? Ernst & Young’s “University of the Future” study last year quotes our colleagues in Australia saying, [1] “It’s going to be a tough decade.” [2] “Our major competitor in ten years’ time will be Google … if ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 3 of 12 we’re still alive!” And [3] “There will be 15 to 20 independent global brands … the rest will be playing for the silver medal.” The study’s working hypothesis, which I contend is valid not only in Australia but everywhere, is that the dominant university model—of a broad-based teaching and research institution supported by a large asset base and a large, predominantly in-house back office—will prove unviable in all but a few cases over the next 10 to 15 years. That is a very tiny time horizon for an institution that got its start in medieval times. Don’t get me wrong: we know how to survive, and we know how to evolve. We’ve proven that. But what we’re facing now is the need to transform ourselves to a greater degree and in a shorter span of time than we have ever accomplished before. Management consulting firms are profiting nicely from the quiet panic prevailing in cloistered hallways all around the world. Each one offers its own version of the Top 10 list and then we scramble to tick every box. First, there’s the list of so- called “change drivers,” and you’re familiar with them all:  increased competition for students  increased competition for funding  decreasing government funding  increasing costs per student  proliferation of digital technologies  global mobility  increasing need to integrate with industry  the urgent need for skilled workers ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 4 of 12  advances in our understanding of how people learn  government and student demand for more outcomes-based measures of performance  global interconnectivity  developing countries’ exploding demand for higher education  and the catch-all: globalization I am sure to have missed a few; the list seems to grow every day. And then there are the well-meaning—and, occasionally, the self-serving— recommendations as to how we should all proceed. “Maintain the status quo, but streamline,” is one. “Dominate a particular market niche,” is another. “Become a teaching-only institution,” is a third. “Merge with other sectors, such as media, innovation, and venture capitalism, to create something entirely new” is yet another. The common denominator, the phrase I hear in association with every recommendation, is the necessity for radical transformation. When I became aware that that’s what I was hearing, it hit me: We’re doing that thing. We’re doing that thing people do when someone says, It’s not you, it’s me. I love you, you’re perfect. But this is just not working. We’re doing that thing: We’re changing … to please. Hipper hairstyle. Sexier clothes. Wittier remarks. Brighter laugh. We’re tap dancing like crazy, only someone else is in control of the music, and we know ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 5 of 12 that no matter how fast or how fantastically well we dance, we still might not get a part in their show. We still might get dumped for our shinier, glossier rival. Social media. The new matchmaker, pick-up bar, relationship display window and dumping ground all in one. Facebook, for example, offers 11 choices when it comes to declaring your relationship status. One of those 11 is “It’s complicated.” That’s us! That’s universities—with every single one of our stakeholders and constituents and partners. Complicated. “Sorry folks, it’s complicated, because, you see, we’ve got all these change drivers buffeting us about, and recommendations from all sides as to how to respond, and it’s just so enormously complicated!” Except … it’s not. Perhaps it’s even simple—the problem and the solution. So much so that it’s been staring us in the face for, oh, about 800 years now. Let me be clear: We do need to change, we need to change a lot, and we need to change fast. The process will be difficult and even painful at times, and the ACU may look very different 10 years from now. I am told by change management experts that the majority of institutional efforts toward transformational change fail; 70 percent, in fact. But ‘difficult’ is not the same as ‘complicated.’ And ‘vital change’ is not the same as ‘radical transformation.’ ‘Radical’ means ‘root.’ It means changing in essence. And if we do that—and some of us are already making moves in that direction—we’ve lost. We may need to make drastic ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 6 of 12 alterations in order to carve out our place in this brave new century. But what will enable us to survive and thrive through the next 10 challenging years is holding fast to our medieval mission. How’s that for radical? I thought about writing my own “Toope’s Top 10 Tips for Surviving the Make-or- Break Decade.” But you know what, it’s really hard to remember 10 things, and I wanted to give you something you’d remember. So I have just one: one change driver that you can use as a lens to look at all change drivers; and one criterion you can use to evaluate every next step. The Change Driver The common denominator of every driver of change, from digitization to climate change to global mobility, is direct experience. Direct experience: either the desire for it or the absence of it. Universities arose out of an ecclesiastical culture that presumed a responsibility for mediating its followers’ experience of the sacred. That paternalistic dynamic stayed with us even after our transition to secular institutions, and has perpetuated that ‘ivory tower’ reputation among those we’re meant to educate and serve that persists to the present day. My bottom line: to the extent that we as institutions continue to mediate or even block direct experience, we will falter. To the extent that we are able to provide or increase access to it, we will succeed. ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 7 of 12 Other sectors have led the way for us, demonstrating both what to do and what not to do. The music industry now has its iTunes, and the film and video industry, its Netflix. In both cases, the end user has access to all available content at any time and in any way she wants it. No more commercials. No more waiting a week for the next episode. No more LPs where someone else has decided which songs she’ll hear and in what order. The business model is both economical for the user and profitable for the owner. Music and screen artists are directly available to their fans via social media as well as all the traditional channels. The publishing industry, on the other hand, is still figuring it out. eBooks, which were supposed to revolutionize the industry, have turned out to be nothing more than print analogues—ironically. They’re not a new business model because they’re not a user-driven way of accessing content. Meanwhile, the growing success and credibility of self- publishing both in print and online is mystifying the industry’s captains; don’t readers need Random House to tell them what’s worth reading? And so the mergers and closures and bankruptcies continue. The proprietary, exclusionary control of content is obsolete. Every change, from the ones that are upon us to the ones we can’t see coming, is going to be driven by people’s desire for ever more direct experience. Every one of our failures will be borne out of our inability or our refusal to provide it or to get out of the way. ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 8 of 12 It is a university’s job to lower barriers that limit or disallow direct experience. I’m talking about the invisible barriers between individuals of different backgrounds, cultures, and orientations on our campuses that Sir David King talked about; I’m talking about the borderlines we’ve drawn between our campuses and the communities we serve; the boundaries between disciplines, fields, and faculties, and those between our institutions that exist because of geographical distance or philosophical difference or market share competition. I’m also talking about the barriers—from financial to political—that keep too many local students and scholars homebound and too many would-be international students and scholars locked out. We claim to be graduating global citizens, but how many of them have traveled? How many have had a transformative encounter with someone whose views and beliefs differed markedly from their own? How many, actually, have left our campuses after four years without ever having thought seriously about how their fields of study—whether music or mathematics or marine biology—relate to the fundamental challenges of our day? Universities too often shy away from the social realities of deep diversity. We have arrived at this critical juncture in collective university history partly because of our fear of crossing those borders and boundaries and barriers I just described. We are afraid of the no-man’s-land of contested values. We seek to find consensus before we allow for the kind of spirited dialogue that sharpens ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 9 of 12 understanding. We prize comfort over robust and challenging debate. We Canadians are known for our tolerance, and we’re pretty good at it. But we’re not so good at principled, open-minded engagement with individuals and institutions and cultures whose values are not compatible with our own. A Canadian fault or a universal one? You decide. I will say that universities’ failure so far to fully democratize access to direct experience—whether it be information or intercultural encounters—is based in fear. Our fear—of losing control. Of being irrevocably and detrimentally altered. So what do we do? Is there one magic criterion by which every decision in the difficult decade to come may be safely gauged? I believe there is …. Be yourself. It’s the one thing all the relationship gurus and Top 10 lists agree on. In any event, everyone else is already taken. Universities have a mission that is unique in all the world: to serve the world, through the preservation and dissemination of knowledge, and the creation of new knowledge. That is our task, and our task alone. We may need, now, to figure out new ways to do it, and as Sir David emphasized this morning, our graduates are facing a different world than the one we graduated into. But we do ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 10 of 12 not need to become something entirely new, or figure out something new to do. We do not need to fear having it taken away from us, but we should take a hard look at our own readiness to relinquish it, like a baby with bathwater. Our survival rests in holding to the unique and necessary role we carved out for ourselves 800 years ago. Our challenge lies in the fact that we are no longer optimally organized to fulfill it. Up until now, we have managed to evolve alongside the rest of society, allowing everything from returning war veterans to the feminist revolution help shape the institutions we’ve become. Free-market capitalism, too—so that we have become better organized for competition than collaboration. Our collegial system of governance, largely a positive trait, can be a hindrance when it comes to responding to high-speed change such as we’re undergoing now. We’re nation- based, and our national systems do not fully support our need for mobility. And we are often preoccupied with superficial measures of reputation, short-sighted research funding, and commercialization over sustainability. Why? It would be easy to blame a lack of money. But I don’t. I blame a lack of service. We have forgotten to serve. Or we have forgotten the value of the core service we provide. Universities change the world! It’s what we all came here to do. It’s what Sir David challenged us to do. It’s what attracts our students, our staff, our faculty: ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 11 of 12 the direct experience of putting our unique gifts into service to the world. It should be our point of attraction for everyone we partner with. But are we providing clear pathways for that? Are we clear, ourselves, that that’s what we’re offering? The money is there. It’s part and parcel of the desire to serve. So we’re not making the ‘big ask;’ we’re making the big offer. The biggest: We change worlds. Join us! Show—don’t tell, show—your political leaders of every stripe the economic long view, and your place in strengthening it. Offer your faculty members incentives for crossing barriers of discipline and geography. Reward your staff for the ways they contribute to sustainability, intercultural understanding, international engagement. Expand free access to course content. Add online components to your face-to-face classes, and vice versa. Ask your fellow university network members what you could do to increase engagement with them. Take a leadership role in creating an innovation hub in your city or region. Some of this stuff doesn’t even have to cost anything. One final thought: It’s time to pull our focus away from rankings. University rankings are predicated on the assumption that we are all trying to be the same thing, which is to say, all things to all people. In this time of hyper-diversity and specialization, I can’t think of anything more likely to precipitate your institution’s demise. Universities exist to serve the world through the preservation and dissemination of knowledge, the creation of new knowledge, and lighting the fire ACU Stephen J. Toope Page 12 of 12 of inspiration in our graduates. The form that takes can and should be utterly unique to you. UBC is a global leader in the study, teaching, and practice of sustainability, and we have turned our Vancouver campus into a living laboratory. Internationally, we have a long history of fruitful engagement in Asia, so much so that we are asked by government offices to provide introductions. Are we equally invested in Eastern European literature? No. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment.” Know yourself. Know your value. Let your barriers down and invite in the messiness of transformation. Change structurally if you must, but don’t change radically; keep your medieval roots. They’re what make us what we are. And the world needs us, more than ever before. Thank you. -30- 
work_jp5oklnjufhehhpl7ndou3sdly	----	PLBI0210_1495-1531.indd PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1507 October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 Open access, freely available online “Some qualities nature carefully fi xes and transmits, but some, and those the fi ner, she exhales with the breath of the individual as too costly to perpetuate. But I notice also that they may become fi xed and permanent in any stock, by painting and repainting them on every individual, until at last nature adopts them and bakes them into her porcelain”—Ralph Waldo Emerson The history of domesticated plant form and function evolves along a two-tiered track that doubles back on itself, offering panoramic vistas of natural forces intertwined with the creative force of human endeavor (Figure 1). For approximately 10,000 years, human beings have modifi ed the traits of plants and animals, giving rise to hundreds of thousands of domesticated breeds that today form the foundation of the world’s food supply. Modern breeds are descendents of the wild species from which they were derived. The process of domestication dramatically changed the performance and genetic architecture of the ancestral species through the process of hybridization and selection as originally described by Charles Darwin (1859). Despite the low yields and poor eating quality of most wild ancestors and primitive crop varieties, these ancient sources of genetic variation continue to provide the basic building blocks from which all modern varieties are constructed. Breeders have discovered that genes hidden in these low-yielding ancestors can enhance the performance of some of the world’s most productive crop varieties. In this essay, I will provide some historical context for the paper by Gur and Zamir in this issue of PLoS Biology (Gur and Zamir 2004). I will discuss how “smart breeding” recycles “old genes” to develop highly productive, stress- resistant modern varieties and why this approach is particularly attractive to increase food security in regions of the world with high concentrations of genetic diversity. The job of the plant breeder is to create an improved variety. This may be accomplished simply by selecting a superior individual from among a range of existing possibilities, or it may require that a breeder know how to effi ciently swap or replace parts, recombine components, and rebuild a biological system that will be capable of growing vigorously and productively in the context of an agricultural environment. How the breeding is done and what goals are achieved is largely a matter of biological feasibility, consumer demand, and production economics. What is clear is that the surest way to succeed in a reasonable amount of time is to have access to a large and diverse pool of genetic variation. The process of plant breeding is theoretically simple, but its power resides in the fact that it creates novelty. A breeder generally selects two individuals for crossing, each of which has specifi c traits or characteristics of interest. The cross provides the mechanism by which genes are exchanged between the parents so that a wide array of diverse individuals is observed in the progeny of future generations. From a breeding perspective, this provides the basis for selection so that individuals containing the best features of both parents can be identifi ed and further bred. By selecting parents that are genetically similar, a breeder restricts the amount of variation that will be evaluated in the offspring. On the other hand, by crossing genetically divergent parents, the range of phenotypic variation will Essay Diversifying Selection in Plant Breeding Susan McCouch Citation: McCouch S (2004) Diversifying selection in plant breeding. PLoS Biol 2(10): e347. Copyright: © 2004 Susan McCouch. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License, which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduc- tion in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Abbreviations: QTL, quantitative trait locus Susan McCouch is in the Department of Plant Breed- ing and Genetics at Cornell University, Ithaca, New York, United States of America. E-mail: srm4@cornell. edu DOI: 10.1371/journal.pbio.0020347 DOI: 10.1371/journal.pbio.0020347.g001 Figure 1. The Diversity of Ancestral Rices (A) Long, thin-grained rice with purple hull. (B) Round-grained rice with white hull. (C) Panicles of golden-hulled rice (foreground) and purple-leafed rice (background). (D) Tall, weedy rice with pale leaves and silver hulls. PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1508 be much more extensive and can even be surprising, with many individuals presenting phenotypes that would not be expected based on the attributes of the parents. Thus, if a breeder is interested in innovation and wants to generate maximum variation from which to make selections, wide crosses are the most productive. Not all genetic variation is created equal. When Darwin fi rst introduced the concept of evolution (Darwin 1859), he challenged the prevailing view that species were fi xed entities with a single, invariable genetic identity. The concept of natural selection presupposed that species were comprised of genetically variable individuals such that selection could act on them. The genetic variants differ in the alleles (versions of genes) they carry. Alleles that are deleterious in terms of the survival and reproduction of the organism will eventually be eliminated while alleles that are favorable or neutral will be perpetuated in the population. Recombination in natural populations allows alleles that may be deleterious in one genetic background to be reassessed in a different genetic context. Over time, the alleles that are transmitted at high frequency across generations represent those with a substantial likelihood of contributing positively to an organism’s long-term viability in a variable environment. For this reason, natural variation is a much more valuable and informative reservoir of genes for the purposes of plant improvement than would be an equivalent number of induced mutations generated in a laboratory. Domestication—The Winnowing of Natural Genetic Variation Cultivars (domesticated varieties) have been selected by humans in the last 10,000 years and inevitably represent a subset of the variation found in their wild ancestors. Cultivars are recognizable because they manifest characteristics that are associated with domestication in plants. Unusual or extreme phenotypes, such as large fruit or seed size, intense color, sweet fl avor, or pleasing aroma are often selected by humans and maintained in their cultivars for aesthetic reasons, while synchronous ripening or inhibition of seed shattering (a dispersal mechanism) are selected to facilitate harvest. These phenotypes may occur in nature but they will frequently be eliminated by natural selection before they are fi xed in a population. Because of human selection, cultivars may exemplify a range of exaggerated phenotypic attributes that give them the appearance of being, on the whole, more diverse than some of the wild populations from which they were derived, but in truth, domestication usually represents a kind of genetic bottleneck. Furthermore, cultivars are grown in agricultural environments that are generally more uniform than the environments in which wild species grow, and this tends to further narrow the gene pool. Thus, while cultivars may embody a high degree of obvious phenotypic variation, this may not always be a good predictor of the extent of their genetic variation. The landrace varieties are the earliest form of cultivar and represent the fi rst step in the domestication process. Landraces are highly heterogeneous, having been selected for subsistence agricultural environments where low, but stable yields were important and natural environmental fl uctuation required a broad genetic base (Figure 2). Landraces are closely related to the wild ancestors and embody a great deal more genetic variation than do modern, high-yielding varieties that are selected for optimal performance within a narrow range of highly managed environmental conditions. The value of both the wild species and the early landrace varieties in the context of modern plant breeding is that they provide a broad representation of the natural variation that is present in the species as a whole. The fact that natural selection has acted on such populations over the course of evolution makes them particularly valuable as materials for breeders. The value added by imposing a low intensity of human selection on the early landraces resides in the fact that some of these early varieties represent accumulations of alleles that produce phenotypes particularly favorable or attractive to the human eye, nose, palette, or other appetites. It is also noteworthy that some of these rare or unique alleles or allele combinations that were selected by humans might never survive in the wild. Wild relatives and early landrace varieties have long been recognized as the essential pool of genetic variation that will drive the future of plant improvement (Bessey 1906; Burbank 1914). Early plant collections made by people such as Nikolai Vavilov (1887– 1943) or Jack Harlan (1917–1998) inspired the international community to establish long-term collections of plant genetic resources that provide modern plant breeders with the material they need to creatively address the challenges of today (Box 1). Many may question the emphasis on wild and primitive landraces that cannot compete with new, high-yielding varieties in terms of productivity or eating quality, particularly in an age when biotechnology and genetic engineering promise to provide an endless stream of genetic novelty. Indeed, if all forms of novelty were equally valuable, the old varieties would hardly be worth saving. But the security of the world’s food supply depends on an exquisite balance between new ideas and the intelligent use of time-tested resources. In 1972, more than a decade before the age of automated sequencing, Jack Harlan commented that, “We are not really much interested in conserving the old varieties as varieties; it is the genes we are concerned about. The old land races can be considered as populations of genes and genetic variability is absolutely essential for further improvement. In fact, variability is absolutely essential to even hold onto what we already have” (Harlan 1972a). Combining Breeding with Molecular Genetics In today’s world where automated sequencing and DNA synthesis are mundane activities, it may seem contradictory to be worrying about saving or using “old genes.” Can’t new October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 DOI: 10.1371/journal.pbio.0020347.g002 Figure 2. Banaue Rice Terraces in the Philippines Where Traditional Landraces Have Been Grown for Thousands of Years PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1509 ones be synthesized to order? Can’t we modify a plant at will by introducing a new gene or two into an existing variety? Why should we worry about saving populations of historically valuable genes in millions of living plant specimens at great cost to the tax- paying public? Perhaps it is not the genes themselves we are now in fear of losing. It is the information they encode in all their combinatorial complexity. After all, we are only at the very beginning of the endeavor to understand the way in which a genotype confers a particular set of attributes to a living organism. The subtleties of phenotypic plasticity in the face of a changing environment and the layers of genetic redundancy that characterize biological systems are largely mysterious. We have only just begun to consider the millions and billions of genetic trials and errors that have been evaluated by nature over evolutionary time. We cannot even begin to simulate the selective fi lters that have provided us with the diversity of form and function in the living world. We do know that living forms of natural diversity are needed to sustain life, and that it would be impossible to replace or recreate that diversity if it were lost at this time. As plant breeders, we know what to do with living forms of genetic diversity. If we keep our options open and learn to better utilize the reservoirs of natural variation that have been preserved in our gene banks and in the few remaining in situ populations of wild species and landrace varieties, an almost infi nite array of novelty can be achieved using traditional, time- proven practices involving crossing and selection of genes that have withstood the test of evolutionary time (Burbank 1914; Hawkes 1958; Rick 1967; Harlan 1975, 1976; Peloquin 1983). By restricting the gene pool, we can readily channel a phenotype into a constrained and predictable outcome. By expanding the gene pool, we can open up many new possibilities for consideration that have not been previously evaluated, would be unlikely to be generated in nature, and would not be readily predicted based on current knowledge. In crosses between wild and cultivated species of inbreeding plants, alleles that were “left behind” during the domestication process may be reintroduced into the cultivated gene pool. This infusion of “new blood” renews and invigorates modern cultivars in surprising and interesting ways. It is not uncommon for some of the inbred progenies derived from these crosses to perform better October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 Box 1. The Pioneers “Moreover, from our wild plants, we may not only obtain new products but new vigor, new hardiness, new adaptive powers, and endless other desirable new qualities for our cultivated plants. All of these things are as immediate in possibilities and consequences as transcontinental railroads were fi fty years ago.”— Luther Burbank, 1914 Luther Burbank (1849–1926) was one of America’s fi rst and most prolifi c plant breeders. He was inspired by Charles Darwin’s Variation of Animals and Plants under Domestication (Darwin 1883) to explore the potential of creating new varieties of plants by cross-breeding (hybridization) and selection. Over a 50-year period, he developed more than 800 new varieties of fruits, vegetables, fl owers, and grasses. One of his earliest creations was the Burbank potato (1871), a variety of baking potato still popular today. When the Plant Patent Act of 1930 was fi rst introduced in Congress, Thomas Edison testifi ed, “This [bill] will, I feel sure, give us many Burbanks.” The bill passed, and Luther Burbank was awarded 16 posthumous patents for asexually reproduced plants (Burbank 1914). Nikolai Vavilov (1887–1943), a Russian geneticist and biologist, was one of the fi rst to explore and actively collect wild relatives and early landrace varieties as sources of genetic variation for the future of agriculture. His botanical collecting expeditions (1916–1940) amassed many thousands of rare and valuable specimens that are preserved in the Vavilov Institute of Plant Industry in St. Petersburg, the world’s fi rst seed bank and inspiration for the International Crop Germplasm Collections (http://www.sgrp.cgiar.org/publications.html). Vavilov’s concepts in evolutionary genetics, such as the law of homologous series in variation (Vavilov 1922) and the theory of centers of origin of cultivated plants (Vavilov 1926), were major contributions to understanding the distribution of diversity around the world. Vavilov himself died of starvation in a Stalinist prison camp in 1943, victim of a debate about genetics at a time when Trofi m Lysenko’s theories about the alterability of organisms through directed environmental change proved more compelling to the Soviet leadership than Vavilov’s own efforts to demonstrate the genetic value of wild and early landrace diversity. In the United States, Jack Harlan (1917–1998) was also well known for his plant collection expeditions and eloquent expositions about the value of wild relatives and early domesticated forms of crop plants (Harlan 1972b). What particularly sensitized Jack Harlan to the value of these genetic resources was the fact that he lived through a period of revolutionary change in the way agriculture was practiced, watching as the Green Revolution’s high-yielding semi-dwarf varieties of wheat and rice replaced the old landrace varieties throughout Asia and Latin America (Harlan 1975). He understood that the new varieties brought massive and immediate increases in grain production that saved millions from starvation. He also understood that displacement of the traditional varieties from their natural environment presented serious challenges that would require renewed efforts to collect, document, evaluate, and conserve plant genetic resources. “For the sake of future generations, we must collect and study wild and weedy relatives of our cultivated plants as well as the domesticated races. These resources stand between us and catastrophic starvation on a scale we cannot imagine” (Harlan 1972b). Charlie Rick (1915–2002) was an avid collector of exotic tomato germplasm. He noted that up until the 1940s, progress in tomato improvement lagged and few major innovations were achieved. The turning point, according to Rick, was the introduction of exotic germplasm. As a cultivated species, tomato had experienced a severe genetic bottleneck that led to extreme attrition of genetic variability compared to the wild species of Lycopersicon (Rick and Fobes 1975). Yet, Rick observed that crosses between wild and cultivated species generated a wide array of novel genetic variation in the offspring, despite the fact that routine evaluation of wild and exotic resources often failed to detect the genetic potential of these resources (Rick 1967, 1974). He outlined “pre-breeding” strategies that were designed to uncover positive transgressive variation in backcrossed (inbred) progeny derived from interspecifi c crosses and believed that this approach would invariably lead to greater utilization of the favorable attributes hidden in tomato exotics (Rick 1983). PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1510 than the better parent (Frey et al. 1975; Rick 1976, 1983; Tanksley and McCouch 1997). This phenomenon is known as transgressive variation and results from positive interaction between the genotypes of the parents. Today, plant breeders can analyze populations derived from wide crosses using molecular markers to determine which portions of the chromosomes are associated with the transgressive variation of interest. This makes it possible to dissect a complex phenotype and to determine where individual genes or, more correctly, quantitative trait loci (QTLs) map along the chromosomes. Information about DNA markers linked to QTLs represents a powerful diagnostic tool that enables a breeder to select for specifi c introgressions of interest, a technique referred to as “marker- assisted selection.” This approach has proven to be extremely successful in several crop species (tomato [Bernacchi et al. 1998], hybrid rice [Xiao et al. 1998], inbred rice [Thomson et al. 2003], wheat [Huang et al. 2003], barley [Pillen et al. 2003], and pepper [Rao et al. 2003]). In China, two introgressions from a wild relative of rice have been associated with a 30% increase in the yields of the world’s highest-yielding hybrid rice (Deng et al. 2004). In tomato, yield increases of greater than 50% resulted from introgressing three independent segments from a wild relative, as reported by Gur and Zamir (2004). The effect of these introgressions on yield was stable in different genetic backgrounds and in both irrigated and drought conditions. This work was facilitated by the availability of a library of chromosome segment substitution lines, called introgression lines when the donor is a wild species, that provided the foundation for exploring the interactions among the independent QTLs. Plant geneticists have long recognized the value of exotic libraries (Brassica [Ramsay et al. 1996; Cermankova et al. 1999], millet [Hash 1999], rice [Sobrizal et al. 1996; Ghesquiere et al. 1997; Ahn et al. 2002], tomato [Monforte and Tanksley 2000; Zamir 2001], wheat [Sears 1956; Pestsova et al. 2002, 2003], and Arabidopsis [Koumproglou et al. 2002]). They represent a permanent genetic resource that greatly facilitates the utilization of wild and exotic germplasm in a breeding program, and they are also an effi cient reagent for the discovery and isolation of genes underlying traits of agricultural importance. Uncovering the Genes That Underlie Agronomic Traits Several genes underlying traits of agricultural importance have been cloned using substitution lines derived from interspecifi c or intersubspecifi c crosses (Martin et al. 1993; Song et al. 1995; Frary et al. 2000; Yano et al. 2000; Takahashi et al. 2001; Yano 2001), including one of the yield QTLs targeted by Gur and Zamir (Fridman et al. 2000). While the identity of the yield gene conferring the phenotype was not critical to the success of the cultivar development scheme described by Zamir and Gur (2004), there is great curiosity to understand the gene(s) or genes and genetic mechanisms that underlie traits of interest to agriculture. In some cases, knowing the gene or the exact functional nucleotide polymorphism within the gene that determines the phenotype (Bryan et al. 2000; Robin et al. 2002) may dramatically improve the resolution of selection during the breeding process. It also may allow a breeder to make more informed decisions about which germplasm resources to use as parents in a crossing program and which genes within those resources to use in a pyramiding scheme. As more genes of interest are cloned and their contributions to complex biological systems are better understood, there will be many opportunities for creative synthesis of new varieties. It is likely that some of the opportunities will involve genetic engineering approaches, where new information about genes, gene regulation, and plant responses to the environment may be used in innovative ways to fi ne-tune existing plant varieties so that they utilize resources more effi ciently, provide greater nutritional value, or simply taste better. Natural Variation and Food Security The scientifi c enterprise has always challenged beliefs about the way the world functions, its origins, and its possibilities. Deeply held beliefs are frequently resistant to the most carefully crafted scientifi c explanations. When belief systems are unconscious, they may prove particularly resilient to change. Occasionally, science provides an interpretation that fi ts cleanly into the framework of existing ideas, and then it is heralded with great applause, and often with a sense of relief. When this is not the case, public opinion tends to react fi tfully, with many starts and stops. Public opinion has been on a roller coaster recently with respect to transgenic organisms in agriculture. This is in response to what is perceived to be a kind of scientifi c intrusion into the intimacy of the relationship between humans and their food supply. This relationship is inherently complex, representing a textured fabric of historical, cultural, geographic, economic, biological, and aesthetic concerns. Despite the fact that food is increasingly treated as a commodity in today’s global economy, human culture the world over has always recognized that food represents more than a biological remedy for hunger. Food is a force that brings diverse people together, it provides a focal point for human discourse, and it enhances our enjoyment of life. Food also has a spiritual component. Harvesting other living organisms to support human life represents a powerful connection between different spheres of the natural world. At some level, the idea of using natural genetic variation found in wild species and early landrace varieties to revitalize modern crop varieties is both emotionally appealing and intellectually compelling. As a “smart breeding” strategy, it will facilitate the exploration and utilization of natural genetic variation, expanding the genetic base of our crop plants and providing more fl exibility for the future. By using a marker- assisted approach, it will provide a noninvasive road map to expedite the selective introgression of useful traits in the years ahead. Because the approach is primarily useful for self- pollinating species (as opposed to cross-pollinators), variety development can go forward with the expectation that new varieties can be developed and distributed as inbred strains. This will come as very good news to people who are concerned about the infrastructural requirements needed to maintain a hybrid seed industry. October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1511 Inbred variety seed can be saved from year to year without noticeable loss of vigor. Farmers are free to amplify the varieties and pass seed on to their neighbors if it proves valuable. Plant breeders living in parts of the world where germplasm diversity is highest are in the best position to explore its value. Until now, there have been few opportunities to make use of the wealth of natural diversity that abounds in many countries where people are the poorest and population is growing the fastest. This approach offers a way forward and can help people make good use of locally available resources to enhance the food security of their own nations. As we consider the implementation of smart breeding efforts in the future, we might ask, who will have access to nature’s reserves of genetic diversity? How will knowledge about the patterns that govern the generation and selective elimination of that diversity help guide conservation efforts as well as current and future crop improvement efforts? What are the limits to biological variation? How far can we push those limits, and what will be the consequences of not pushing them? Who will participate in the endeavor? What will the rules of engagement be? What tools can we use to expedite the effort? What genetic characteristics will help us cope with climate change, global warming, the emergence of new pests and diseases, depleted soils, shortages of fresh water, and increasing levels of water and air pollution? What trace minerals, vitamins, and other metabolites will we need to breed into the crops of the future to fi ght the causes of hidden hunger, to prevent cancer, or to enhance the immune system? The combinatorial possibilities for crop improvement are almost infi nite, as long as we maintain our options. Faced with a clear choice today, it is obvious that enhancing the potential for genetic fl exibility in the future is a wise course of action and one we ignore at our peril. � References Ahn SN, Suh JP, Oh CS, Lee SJ, Suh HS (2002) Development of introgression lines of weedy rice in the background of Tongil-type rice. Rice Genet Newsl 19: 14. Bernacchi D, Beck-Bunn T, Emmatty D, Inai S (1998) Advanced backcross QTL analysis of tomato. II. 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Gur A, Zamir D (2004) Unused natural variation can lift yield barriers in plant breeding. PLoS Biol 2: e245. Harlan JR (1972a) Breeding success brings a peril. Crops Soils 72: 5–6. Harlan JR (1972b) Genetics of disaster. J Environ Qual 1: 212–215. Harlan JR (1975) Our vanishing genetic resources. Science 188: 618–621. Harlan JR (1976) Genetic resources in wild relatives of crops. Crop Sci 16: 329–333. Hash CT (1999) Contiguous segment substitution lines: New tool for elite pearl millet hybrid parental lines enhancement. DFID Plant Sciences Research Programme. Available: http:⁄⁄www.dfi d-psp.org/projects/7382.htm via the Internet. Accessed 18 August 2004. Hawkes JG (1958) Signifi cance of wild species and primitive forms for potato breeding. Euphytica 7: 257–270. Huang XQ, Coster H, Ganal MW, Roder MS (2003) Advanced backcross QTL analysis for the identifi cation of quantitative trait loci alleles from wild relatives of wheat (Triticum aestivum L.). Theor Appl Genet 106: 1379–1389. Koumproglou R, Wilkes TM, Townson P, Wang XY, Beynon J, et al. (2002) STAIRS: A new genetic resource for functional genomic studies of Arabidopsis. Plant J 31: 355–364. Martin GB, Brommonschenkel SH, Chunwongse J, Frary J, Ganal MW, et al. (1993) Map-based cloning of a protein kinase gene conferring disease resistance in tomato. Science 262: 1432–1436. Monforte AJ, Tanksley SD (2000) Development of a set of near isogenic and backcross recombinant inbred lines containing most of the Lycopersicon hirsutum genome in a L. esculentum genetic background: A tool for gene mapping and gene discovery. Genome 43: 803–813. Peloquin SJ (1983) Utilization of exotic germplasm in potato breeding: Germplasm transfer with haploids and 2n gametes. In: Brown WL, editor. Conservation and utilization of exotic germplasm to improve varieties. The 1983 Plant Breeding Research Forum; 1983 August 9–11; Heber Springs, Arkansas. Des Moines (Iowa): Pioneer Hi-Bred International. pp. 147–167. Pestsova EG, Borner A, Roder MS (2002) Development of wheat D-genome introgression lines assisted by microsatellite markers. In: Hernández P, Moreno MT, Cubero JI, Martin A, editors. Proceedings of the Fourth International Triticeae Symposium; 2001 September; Cordoba, Spain. Cordoba (Spain): Junta de Andalucia, Consejera de Agricultura y Pesca. pp. 207–210. Pestsova EG, Borner A, Roder MS (2003) Application of microsatellite markers to develop Triticum aestivum–Aegilops tauschii defi ned introgression lines. In: Borner A, Snape JW, Law CN, editors. Proceedings of the Twelfth International EWAC (European Wheat Aneuploid Co-operative) Workshop; 2002 July 1– 6; Norwich, United Kingdom. Norwich (United Kingdom): John Innes Centre. pp 32–35. Pillen K, Zacharias A, Leon J (2003) Advanced backcross QTL analysis in barley (Hordeum vulgare L.). Theor Appl Genet 107: 340–352. Ramsay LD, Jennings DE, Bohuon EJR, Arthur AE, Lydiate DJ, et al. (1996) The construction of a substitution library of recombinant backcross lines in Brassica oleracea for the precision mapping of quantitative trait loci (QTL). Genome 39: 558–567. Rao GU, Ben Chaim A, Borovsky Y, Paran I (2003) Mapping of yield-related QTLs in pepper in an interspecifi c cross of Capisicum annum and C. frutescens. Theor Appl Genet 106: 1457–1466. Rick CM (1967) Exploiting species hybrids for vegetable improvement. Proc XVII Int Hort Congr 3: 217–226. Rick CM (1974) High soluble-solids content in large-fruited tomato lines derived from a wild green-fruited species. Hilgardia 42: 493–510. Rick CM (1976) Natural variability in wild species of Lycopersicon and its bearing on tomato breeding. Agraria 30: 249–510. Rick CM (1983) Conservation and use of exotic tomato germplasm. In: Brown WL, editor. Conservation and utilization of exotic germplasm to improve varieties. The 1983 Plant Breeding Research Forum; 1983 August 9–11; Heber Springs, Arkansas. Des Moines (Iowa): Pioneer Hi-Bred International. pp. 147–167. Rick CM, Fobes JF (1975) Allozyme variations in the cultivated tomato and closely related species. B Torrey Bot Club 102: 376–384. Robin C, Lyman RF, Long AD, Langley CH, Mackay TFC (2002) hairy: A quantitative trait locus for Drosophila sensory bristle number. Genetics 162: 155–164. Sears E (1956) The transfer of leaf-rust resistance from Aegilops umbellulata to wheat. Brookhaven Symp Biol 9: 1–22. Sobrizal K, Ikeda K, Sanchez PL, Doi K, Angeles ER, et al. (1996) Development of Oryza glumaepatula introgression lines in rice, O. sativa L. Rice Genet Newsl 16: 107. Song WY, Wang GL, Chen L, Kim HS, Wang B, et al. (1995) The rice disease resistance gene, Xa21, encodes a receptor-like protein kinase. Science 270: 1804–1806. Takahashi Y, Shomura A, Sasaki T, Yano M (2001) Hd6, a rice quantitative trait locus involved in photoperiod sensitivity, encodes the alpha subunit of protein kinase CK2. Proc Natl Acad Sci U S A 98: 7922–7927. Tanksley SD, McCouch SR (1997) Seed banks and molecular maps: Unlocking genetic potential from the wild. Science 277: 1063–1066. Thomson MJ, Tai TH, McClung AM, Lai XH, Hinga ME, et al. (2003) Mapping quantitative trait loci for yield, yield components and morphological traits in an advanced backcross October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 PLoS Biology | www.plosbiology.org 1512 population between Oryza rufi pogon and the Oryza sativa cultivar Jefferson. Theor Appl Genet 107: 479–493. Vavilov NI (1922) The law of homologous series in variation. J Genet 12: 47. Vavilov NI (1926) Studies in the origin of cultivated plants. Leningrad: Institute of Applied Botany and Plant Breeding. 248 p. Xiao J, Li J, Grandillo S, Ahn SN, Yuan L, et al. (1998) Identifi cation of trait-improving quantitative trait loci alleles from a wild rice relative, Oryza rufi pogon. Genetics 150: 899–909. Yano M (2001) Genetic and molecular dissection of naturally occurring variation. Curr Opin Plant Biol 4: 130–135. Yano M, Katayose Y, Ashikari M, Yamanouchi U, Monna L, et al. (2000) Hd1, a major photoperiod sensitivity quantitative trait locus in rice, is closely related to the Arabidopsis fl owering time gene CONSTANS. Plant Cell 12: 2473–2484. Zamir D (2001) Improving plant breeding with exotic genetic libraries. Nat Rev Genet 2: 983–989. October 2004 | Volume 2 | Issue 10 | e347 | e306 Open access, freely available online 
work_jrlyezgoxjdyfnrtwynqdndnvm	----	The first Gore-Tex femoral-popliteal bypass HISTORICAL VIGNETTES IN VASCULAR SURGERY Norman M. Rich, MD, Section Editor From N U Auth Rep Be The to m J Va 0741 Cop http 266 The first Gore-Tex femoral-popliteal bypass Roger T. Gregory, MD,a and James S. T. Yao, MD, PhD,b Norfolk, Va; and Chicago, Ill In scientific investigation, “Who’s on First” is often an ongoing debate when it comes to medical discoveries and scientific priority.1 Surgeons embrace the idea of being first to perform an operation, particularly if history later shines upon it a favorable light. Is it important to be first? The Olympic games initiated by ancient Greeks made heroes out of those who came in first in an event. In a presentation to the 25th Anniversary Veith Symposium on “Firsts” in Vascular Surgery: Who Did What “First,” Rich gave the subject an in-depth examina- tion. He found that history is replete with claims of first. Many of these claims were associated with controversy.2 Firsts in vascular surgery are numerous. It is generally acknowledged that William Harvey was the first to discover circulation. The Chinese, however, claimed they discovered the concept of blood circulation some 2000 years before Harvey.3 Similarly, coronary arteriosclerosis is often regarded as a Western disease, yet a recent report has found coronary arteriosclerotic disease existed in China >2200 years ago.4 Besides “first operations,” there are also “famous oper- ations.” Harold Ellis, in his book Famous Operations, divided the “famous operation” into three types: type I is the breakthrough operation. A type II operation may be insignificant itself, but it marks the introduction of some important point in surgical technique. Finally, the type III operation depends entirely on the patient; the operation itself may be routine, but the patient is a famous person, thus an operation, an act between the surgeon and the patient, does carry extra meaning and significance.5 Among all first operations, none can surpass the “blue baby” operation by Blalock and Taussig, performed at the Johns Hopkins Hospital on November 29, 1944.6 To qualify as a first operation, DeBakey emphasized that the the Department of Surgery (retired), Eastern Virginia Medical School, orfolka; and the Department of Surgery (retired), Northwestern niversity Feinberg School of Medicine, Chicago.b or conflict of interest: none. rint requests: Roger T. Gregory, MD, 5008 Lauderdale Ave, Virginia ach, VA 23455 (e-mail: rtg10sdr@gmail.com). editors and reviewers of this article have no relevant financial relationships disclose per the JVS policy that requires reviewers to decline review of any anuscript for which they may have a conflict of interest. sc Surg 2013;58:266-9 -5214/$36.00 yright � 2013 by the Society for Vascular Surgery. ://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jvs.2013.02.246 patient must survive the operation.7 One such example is the homograft replacement of an abdominal aortic aneu- rysm. Dubost of France did the operation on March 29, 1951. It was later known that Schafer and Dardin, of Kan- sas, did the same operation on March 2, 1951, 27 days before Dubost. However, their patient died 29 days after the operation, 1 day short of the magic 30 days to be counted as a “survival.”8 Schafer and Dardin thus became just a footnote in the history of aneurysm surgery. A first operation also depends on the date of the report in the medical literature. The clearest example involves the most common open arterial operation, carotid endarterec- tomy, with multiple surgeons claiming to have been first to perform the procedure. Eastcott, Pickering, and Rob re- ported the first carotid surgery on May 19, 1954, and the report usually has been cited as the first operation. However, in a 19-year follow-up report by DeBakey in 1975, it appears that DeBakey did the procedure on August 7, 1953, some 9 months before Eastcott et al. In the quest for being the first in carotid endarterectomy, Dr Denton Cooley introduced his publication on the history of carotid endarterectomy with the quote by Ralph Waldo Emerson9: “Every child of the Saxon race is educated to wish to be first. It is our system.” Thus, the first Gore-Tex (W. L. Gore and Associates, Flagstaff, Ariz) femoral popliteal bypass reported here is both the product of a natural desire and an interesting and important landmark in surgical history. CASE REPORT An elderly diabetic woman presented to our office in Norfolk, Virginia, with critical lower extremity ischemia <1 year after I entered clinical practice in 1974. She had the additional challenge of having had a ligation and stripping of bilateral lower extremity saphenous varicosities many years before. Angiography revealed an occluded superficial femoral artery, a patent popliteal artery segment below the knee, and limited runoff. The profunda was patent but small. My partner, Dr Jock Wheeler (later Dean of Eastern Virginia Medical School), and I had encountered this type of situation on several occasions, and it was always a dilemma. We had used an expanded polytetrafluoroethylene (PTFE) IMPRA graft (Impra Inc, Tempe, Ariz) for a femoral-tibial bypass several months earlier. The graft thrombosed in the early postoperative phase, and an attempt at thrombectomy with a Fogarty catheter resulted mailto:rtg10sdr@gmail.com http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jvs.2013.02.246 Fig. Illustration shows a Gore-Tex graft being placed. JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 58, Number 1 Gregory and Yao 267 in a longitudinal split in the graft over its entire length. In view of this experience, we were not inclined to try another PTFE graft. And yet, our dilemma remained. We had heard that another new prosthetic graft made of PTFE had been produced by the W. L. Gore Company. The company was quickly contacted. They were aware of the problems with burst/hoop strength of the PTFE graft because a few of their sample grafts had developed graft aneurysms (personal communi- cation, W. L. Gore Company, August 1975), later formally re- ported by Campbell et al.10 This had prompted them to recall all of their sample grafts. By July 31, 1975, the W. L. Gore Company had re-engineered the graft by reinforcement with a thin outer sheath, which resolved the issue of hoop strength. This activity pre- dated the requirement for U.S. Food and Drug Administration approval of new devices; these changes were all in-house modifications. “When do you need it?” they replied when I asked to see the graft. “As soon as possible,” I said. Within a few days, Jack Hoover, a new associate with W. L. Gore, was in our office with unsterilized samples of the graft, which looked reasonable and handled well. We ordered six 6-mm reinforced grafts and two 7-mm to 4-mm grafts on August 25, 1975,11 which arrived 2 days later. On August 28, 1975, we performed a below-knee femoral-popliteal bypass with a 6-mm reinforced Gore-Tex graft, which was sterilized on site. The anas- tomoses were performed with 5-0 Prolene (Ethicon, Somerville, NJ) suture on an RB-1 taper needle. When the occlusive clamps were released, the anastomoses leaked through the needle holes like the sprinkler head on a watering pot. We had seen this with the IMPRA graft and were not overly alarmed. We quickly reversed the heparin given before anastomotic construction, sprin- kled thrombin powder over the bleeding anastomoses, and applied careful pressure. Over the next 5 to 10 minutes, hemostasis was regained. The patient did well postoperatively, and limb salvage was achieved with a patent graft for several years. Hoover informed us later that this was the first use of the reinforced Gore-Tex graft: Ours had been their first order.11 BYPASS: A REVOLUTIONARY CONCEPT In 1976, Campbell et al12 reported a small series of patients with femoral-popliteal Gore-Tex bypass grafts.12 This prompted us to organize our experience. By 1977, we had a series of some 30 patients with reasonable short-term results. These results were submitted for publi- cation, but rejected. Subsequently, the series was presented at the Virginia Surgical Society meeting (because we were the only full-time vascular surgeons in the state, there was no state vascular society at that time). After the presen- tation, there was only one question: “Are anticoagulants needed postoperatively?” Otherwise, there were no comments or discussion. The bypass principle, described by Jeger in 1913, was one of the most revolutionary concepts in the history of vascular surgery.13 Interestingly, Jeger never performed a bypass. This concept allowed vascular surgeons to aggres- sively attack segmental arterial occlusive disease. The discovery of a fabric graft material by Voorhees, in 1951, allowed the bypass principle to flourish.14 The DeBakey- led Baylor group used the Dacron graft (DuPont, Wil- mington, Del) to replace aneurysms or to bypass occlusive disease in the aortoiliac position, which helped the growth of the era of reconstructive arterial surgery. However, the use of prosthetic grafts in limb salvage for critical ischemia secondary to severe infrainguinal arterial occlusive disease remained a serious issue because the results were not ideal. The development of femoral bypass dates back to the early 20th century, yet it was Kunlin, in 1948, who caught the attention of vascular surgeons internationally when he reported a femoral-popliteal bypass using a saphenous vein graft.13 The extension of the femoral bypass to the Table. Chronology of development of infrainguinal bypass since Kunlina Date Surgeon Development 1951 E. Lowenberg Saphenous vein, lateral approach 1958 J. J. McCaughan Distal popliteal artery exposure 1959 G.C. Morris Posterior approachdposterior tibial artery 1959 C. Rob In situ vein graft 1960 E. C. Palma Vein graft to posterior tibial artery 1961 J. J. McCaughan Vein graft to posterior and anterior tibial artery, calf level 1966 J. J. McCaughan Femoral to posterior tibial (ankle) vein graft 1966 H. E. Garrett Bypass to distal posterior tibial artery 1967 J. A. Mannick Bypass to isolated popliteal artery 1967 J. J. Ochsner Dorsalis pedis 1968 H. E. Garrett Tibial arteries at ankle level 1969 V. V. Kakkar Cephalic vein 1971 D. A. DeLaurentis Sequential graft 1972 W. A. Dale Composite graft 1975 F. A. Reichle, R. Tyson Peroneal artery 1988 E. Ascer, F. J. Veith, S.K. Gupta Bypass to plantar artery aModified from Yao JS, Pearce WH. Preface. In: Yao JS, Pearce WH, eds. The ischemic extremity: advances in treatment. East Norwalk, CT: Appleton & Lange; 1995. JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY 268 Gregory and Yao July 2013 below-knee popliteal and tibial or peroneal arteries was slow to follow (Table). Improvement in technique was also very slow, although Cartier reported use of an in situ vein graft in 1960.15 This technique failed to gain popu- larity until Leather et al16 reported their experience in 1979, including some technical refinements. Despite this progress, autogenous tissue was still viewed as the ideal bypass graft. The need for an off-the-shelf prosthetic graft for femoral-popliteal bypass to be used when autogenous tissue was not available or in certain high-risk patients was widely acknowledged. The expanded PTFE Gore-Tex tubular graft was first used as a venous prosthesis by Dr Ben Eiseman.17 This is a fascinating story of serendipity, imagination, and friend- ship18 that Chandler called a magical moment in vascular surgery.19 The accidental discovery of the Gore-Tex graft is of interest because it led to renewed hope that a suitable vascular prosthetic graft for femoral arterial bypass had been found. Several investigators began to report the successful use of the PTFE graft in the arterial circulation.20 However, it was the multicenter randomized trial by Veith et al21 that firmly established the value of the PTFE graft in infrainguinal arterial reconstruction. Other substitutes for the saphenous vein graft have been tried, including the human umbilical cord vein, mandril grafts, bovine grafts, cryopreserved grafts, and composite grafts. These grafts garnered scattered use, but none received the attention and wide application that the Gore- Tex graft did. Although the first use of a Gore-Tex graft for a femoral-popliteal bypass in 1975 received little initial attention, this graft went on to international application in >5 million cases and underwent several improvements (thin walled, stretch, and ringed; personal communication, W. L. Gore Company, April 2012). The Gore-Tex graft is not yet the ideal replacement for an autogenous saphenous vein, but it has been a substantial step forward. On April 3, 1991, we implanted the first Gore-Tex Stretch graft in the aortobiiliac position (Fig), this time at the invitation of Don Lass, another W. L. Gore associate. The suture material for the anastomoses was 3-0 Gore- Tex, which offered a considerable improvement over the sutures used for the first femoral-popliteal bypass. Leaking after clamp release was minimal. This event, however, was not followed by the same explosive popularity as the Gore- Tex femoral-popliteal bypass graft placed 16 years earlier. We are fully aware that being first does not always mean being best. These first two cases are reported as a footnote to a graft that was discovered accidentally, followed by worldwide acceptance and widespread application. REFERENCES 1. Markel H. “Who’s on first?”- medical discoveries and scientific priority. N Engl J Med 2004;351:2792-4. 2. Rich N. “Firsts” in vascular surgery: who did what “first.” Presented at the 25th Annual Symposium on “Current Critical Problems, New Horizons and Techniques in Vascular and Endovascular Surgery,” Annual Vascular Symposium, Albert Einstein College of Medicine - Montefiore Medical Center, New York, NY, November 19-22, 1998. 3. Wan S, Yim APC. The evolution of cardiovascular surgery in China. In: Wan S, Yim APC, editors. Cardiothoracic surgery in China: past, present and future. Hong Kong: The Chinese University Press; 2007. p. 80-112. 4. Cheng TO. Coronary arteriosclerotic disease existed in Chinese over 2, 200 years ago. Methodist DeBakeyCardiovasc J 2012;8:47-8. 5. Harold E. Famous operations. Media, PA: Harwal Publishing Company; 1984. 6. Blalock A, Taussig HB. The surgical treatment of malformations of the heart in which there is pulmonary stenosis or pulmonary atresia. JAMA 1945;128:189-202. 7. DeBakey ME, Blaisdell FW. The Society for Vascular Surgery: as I rememberdan interview with Dr. Michael DeBakey. J Vasc Surg 1996;23:1031-4. 8. Yao JS. Commentary: surgical treatment of aortic aneurysm: 50-some years later. Cardiovasc Surg 2003;11:413-5. 9. Cooley DA. Carotid endarterectomy: from first recorded case to present. Texas Heart Instit J 1988;15:139-41. 10. Campbell CD, Brooks DH, Webster MW, Bondi RP, Lloyd JC, Hynes MF, et al. Aneurysm formation in expanded polytetrafluoro- ethylene prostheses. Surgery 1976;79:491-3. JOURNAL OF VASCULAR SURGERY Volume 58, Number 1 Gregory and Yao 269 11. McElfresh P. First vascular graft sale commemorated: 20 years and 3.5 million implants later [internal newspaper]. Flagstaff, AZ: W. L. Gore & Associates, Inc; 1995. 12. Campbell CD, Brooks DH, Webster MW, Bahnson HT. The use of expanded microporous polytetrafluoroethylene for limb salvage: a preliminary report. Surgery 1976;79:485-91. 13. Yao JS, Pearce WH. The ischemic extremity. Norwalk, CT: Appleton and Lange; 1995. p. xiii-xv [Preface]. 14. Blakemore AH, Voorhees AB Jr. The use of tubes constructed from vinyon N cloth in bridging arterial defects; experimental and clinical. Ann Surg 1954;140:324-34. 15. Samuels PB. The evolution of in-situ bypass. The Society for Clinical Vascular Surgery Annual Symposium, Scottsdale, AZ, March 1987. 16. Leather RP, Powers SR, Karmody AM. A reappraisal of the in situ saphenous vein arterial bypass: its use in limb salvage. Surgery 1979;86: 53-61. 17. Yao JS. Dr. Ben Eisman and the accidental discovery of the Gore-Tex graft. In: Eskandari MK, editor. Contemporary vascular surgery. Shelton, Conn: PMPH-USA; 2011. p. 1-7. 18. Yao JS, Eskandari MK. Accidental discovery: the polytetrafluoro- ethylene graft. Surgery 2012;151:126-8. 19. Chandler JG. Magical moments in vascular surgery. Presented at the Rocky Mountain Vascular Surgical Society 31st Annual Meeting, Squaw Valley, CA, July 28-August 1, 2010. 20. Kelly GL, Eiseman B. Development of a new vascular prosthetic: lessons learned. Arch Surg 1982;117:1367-70. 21. Veith FJ, Gupta SK, Ascer E, White-Flores S, Samson RH, Sher LA, et al. Six-year prospective multicenter randomized comparison of autologous saphenous vein and expanded polytetrafluoroethylene grafts in infrainguinal arterial reconstructions. J Vasc Surg 1986;3:104-14. Submitted Feb 11, 2013; accepted Feb 25, 2013. The first Gore-Tex femoral-popliteal bypass Case Report Bypass: A Revolutionary Concept References 
work_jurim3lumzgixfaeh6ju4wq5vu	----	How to Read Harold Bloom and Why How to Read Harold Bloom and Why Benjamin D. Carson CEA Critic, Volume 80, Number 1, March 2018, pp. 3-20 (Article) Published by Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ Access provided at 6 Apr 2021 01:59 GMT from Carnegie Mellon University ] https://doi.org/10.1353/cea.2018.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/690737 https://doi.org/10.1353/cea.2018.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/690737 The CEA Critic 80.1 (March 2018): 3–20. © 2018 College English Association. Benjamin D. Carson How to Read Harold Bloom and Why Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world. - Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself” No other well-known literary critic elicits the kind of praise or vitriol, and not in equal measure, as does Harold Bloom. He is either championed as a professional provocateur—a “colossal” among critics—or, as is more often the case, he is condemned as a pretentious windbag. If he is not a genius, he is, in the words of Joseph Epstein in a particularly nasty hit piece for The Hudson Review, “that most comic of unconscious comic figures . . ., the intellectual equivalent of that character in P. G. Wodehouse of whom Wodehouse writes that he looked like someone who was poured into his clothes but forgot to say when” (215). “So far as one can determine,” Epstein continues, “The Anxiety of Influence has had very little influence and appears to have caused anxiety chiefly in Harold Bloom, who claims that few people really understand it” (215). And, Terry Eagleton, in his Figures of Dissent, writes that Bloom’s theory, “as Henry Fielding observed of the belief that the good will get their reward in this world, had only one drawback, namely that it was not true” (Figures 168). About How to Read and Why, specifically, Eagleton goes on to write, Bloom’s “portentously self-important book would collapse at the faintest whiff of” irony (169). Eagleton and Epstein are hardly alone in their critique of Bloom’s proj- ect. Sandra Gilbert and Susan Gubar, in their The Madwoman in the Attic, suggest Bloom’s theory, rooted, however nominally, as it is in Freud’s Oedipus Complex, is “offensively sexist to some feminist critics” (47) while other critics follow in the same way: Geoffrey Hartman, in his Criticism in the Wilderness; Elizabeth Bruss, in her Beautiful Theories; Jonathan Arac, in his Afterword to The Yale Critics; and Edward Said, in his The World, the Text, and the Critic, all conclude that Bloom is less than what Arac labels an “iconoclast” (179) than a conservative defender of the Western, male- dominated literary canon.1 In this essay, I argue for a way of reading Bloom that allows us to give Bloom his due without taking recourse to ad hominem attacks (Epstein) or outright dismissal because his theory is not “true” (Eagleton). Rather than asking questions like “Is Bloom right?” or, more specifically, “Are poets really embroiled in a heroic struggle with their poetic fathers?”—we might instead read Bloom the same way Richard Rorty reads Plato, Heidegger, 4 The CEA Critic Proust, and Nabokov: as the author of a new vocabulary, a new way of talking, describing and re-describing the world. In other words, we should read Bloom ironically—that is, through a pragmatist’s eyes. In this sense, Bloom, like William Blake, is not just an ironist in an agonizing struggle for self-creation. Rather, the tetralogy of books in which Bloom outlines his theory of poetic influence—The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry (1973), Kabbalah and Criticism (1975), A Map of Misreading (1975), and Poetry and Repression (1976)—can be understood not as offering a new epistemol- ogy that must bear the burden of truth claims but, in Cynthia Ozick’s words, “as a long theophanous prose poem, a rationalized version of Blake’s heroic Prophetic Books” (46).2 If Ozick is correct about the how we should read Bloom, what about the why? Bloom’s theory, finally, is about the relationship between what Nabokov calls “aesthetic bliss” and being (314). The former breathes life into the latter. Difficult reading, David Denby writes, “develops . . . stam- ina in the way that track practice builds lung power and muscle” (236). In a passage that sounds like it could have been written by Harold Bloom, Denby argues in his recent book, Lit Up, You make a self by matching yourself against the text. When you respond to the text fully, understanding how it is con- structed, and what the parts mean, you come into being. This was hardly a narcissistic exercise; the students [at the Beacon School, Mamaroneck, and Hillhouse] couldn’t do what they did without the provocation of an exceedingly complicated work of literature and an ardent teacher who believed in the book as art. Pop literature, skillfully composed by formula, wouldn’t offer as rich a field of reference and action. (236) Bloom has always claimed that he is first and foremost a teacher, a provo- cateur of books, if you will, a peddler of aesthetic bliss, and in bliss is being, being with and in others through and in the text. Literature is not just a “narcissistic exercise.” It is also and, most importantly, a clarion call for more life, a life abetted by a rich imagination, the fruit of serious reading. “Every great civilization, including ours,” Denby writes, “has had a great literature and great readers. If literature matters less to young people than it once did, we are all in trouble . . . . Together and alone, we need literature as the California valleys need rain” (xvii). In this season of drought, Bloom is a much-needed rainmaker, a poet who has given his professional life to nourishing the soil from which new words and new art might grow. Like budding shoots, we would do well to bend toward his light and heed his influence. Bloom’s Theory of Poetic Influence Bloom is a Romanticist by training, and so it is no surprise his first three books—Shelley’s Mythmaking (1959), The Visionary Company (1961), and Benjamin D. Carson 5 Blake’s Apocalypse (1963)—focused on the key (male) poets of the Romantic tradition: Blake, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Shelley, Byron, and Keats. He published a brilliant book on Yeats in 1972 (simply titled Yeats) before embarking on the project that would become, in effect, his life’s work. What constitutes Bloom’s theory of influence is outlined in his tetralogy, though it is fair to say that everything Bloom has published since, from Figures of Capable Imagination (1976) all the way through his recent The Daemon Knows: Literary Consciousness and the American Sublime (2015), is a continuation of this original project. Bloom’s theory, which, at the time it was first “mapped” between 1973 and 1976, drew not only on the work of many of his teachers (Frederick Pottle and M. H. Abrams) but also, and increasingly, on more what David Fite identifies as obscure “figures as diverse as the second-century Gnostic, Valentinus, the sixteenth-century Kabbalists Moses Cordovero and Isaac Luria, [and] the eighteenth-century Italian philosopher of rhetoric Giambattista Vico” (55–6). Bloom has also found influential great philosophers, poets, and critics as disparate as Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Freud, Stephane Mallarmé, Paul Valéry, Ralph Waldo Emerson, C. S. Peirce, and Kenneth Burke (56). This heady mix of think- ers, to whom Bloom often refers obliquely and without assignation, coupled to his special terminology (clinamen, tessera, kenosis, daemoniza- tion, askesis, apophrades) can make for tough reading. But, as Fite, drawing on Denis Donoghue’s work on Bloom, points out, “these and the other thinkers Bloom uses with such profligacy in his recent work are models, . . . not sources” (56). Bloom’s real source, his real precursor, according to Donoghue, is Blake. A great many good critics have summarized Bloom’s theory, but few have done so as well as Fite in his Harold Bloom: The Rhetoric of Romantic Vision (1985). A brief summary here will stand in for a detailed reading of Bloom’s tetralogy, which, for my purpose, is unnecessary. Fite sums up Bloom’s theory as follows: Ever since Milton justified the ways of Satan for imaginative man, all poets in the Western tradition have had to battle with a sublimity, an imaginative achievement not their own, an achieve- ment that, precisely by coming before them, threatens their own claims to imaginative priority and thereby establishes the condi- tions for meaning in their poems. Poets cannot escape the imper- atives of influence; those who attempt to “idealize” about the bloody parricide of poetic relations will succeed only in creating weak poetry, weak criticism. “Figures of capable imagination,” Bloom says, borrowing a phrase from Stevens, “appropriate for themselves” (AI, p.5) by strongly, even savagely, misreading the poems of central precursors, and thus winning through to an achievement of their own—an achievement that only exists, how- ever, by virtue of its desperate battle with what came before. (10) 6 The CEA Critic Fite usefully goes on to clarify Bloom’s relationship with Freud, writing that Bloom’s theory has “‘nothing in common with anything now miscalled Freudian literary criticism’” (10). Unlike Freudian critics who would read a poem as a successful sublimation of the anxiety of influence, for Bloom, Fite says, “a poem is itself a process of [italics original] repression, . . . not a product of a completed sublimation” (10). “The meaning of a poem,” Bloom often reminds us, “can only be a poem, but another poem—a poem not itself [italics original]. And not a poem chosen with total arbitrariness, but any central poem by an indubitable precursor, even if the ephebe never read [italics original] that poem” (Anxiety 70). Bloom’s obscurity, his often acerbic tone, seemingly outrageous claims, and unapologetic and impolitic defense of the Western Canon, the Great Books and Schools of the Ages, are, undoubtedly, what make Bloom an easy target. Even those who have never read Bloom know to dislike him. But, critics such as Eagleton and Epstein are, among other things, guilty of taking Bloom too seriously—they are taking Bloom (and, by extension, his theory of influence) literally, that is, unironically, and, I argue, it is a mistake to do so. To be fair, Bloom invites accusations of too much earnest- ness. When in his “Elegiac Conclusion” to The Western Canon Bloom tells us that after forty years of teaching in the academy he now finds himself “sur- rounded by professors of hip-hop; by clones of Gallic-Germanic theory; by ideologues of gender and of various sexual persuasions; by multicultural- ists unlimited” (517), and that none of these “[r]esenters of the aesthetic value of literature are . . . going to go away” (518), it is easy to forget he is talking about literature and not the Ebola virus or plague. Rorty’s Pragmatism: Reading Bloom Ironically In his Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, Rorty compares his cultural hero, the “liberal ironist,” to Bloom’s “strong poet.” (Whether Bloom, inciden- tally, is a “liberal,” by Rorty and Judith Sklar’s definition, is another matter altogether.3) An ironist, for Rorty, is “the sort of person who faces up to the contingency of his or her own most central beliefs and desires—some- one sufficiently historicist and nominalist to have abandoned the idea that those central beliefs and desires refer back to something beyond the reach of time and change” (Contingency xv). So, while an ironist may be a system builder—what Rorty calls the “maker of new words, the shaper of new languages . . . the vanguard of the species” (20)—he or she concedes, with the traveler in Shelley’s “Ozymandias,” that however much one strives for immortality, ultimately “nothing beside remains.” In his Jerusalem, Blake writes, “I must Create a System, or be enslav’d by another Mans / I will not Reason & Compare: my business is to Create” (153). Like Blake, Bloom is a strong poet, and his theory of influence is his own personal “system,” an “original literary imagining” that evidences, in Benjamin D. Carson 7 a point conceded to Epstein, his own experience of anxiety about living in the long shadow of Johnson, Hazlitt, Burke, and, importantly, Walter Pater, whom Bloom has “taken as a critical ideal all [his] life” (Daemon 494). In other words, what Bloom says about poetic influence could equally apply to literary theory/critics, including himself. In the following passage that demonstrates as much, I have simply substituted “literary theory” and “critics” for “poetic influence” and “poets”: [Literary theory]—when it involves two strong, authentic [crit- ics],—always proceeds by a misreading of the prior [theory], an act of creative correction that is actually and necessarily a misin- terpretation. The history of fruitful [critical] influence, which is to say the main tradition of Western [literary criticism] since the Renaissance, is a history of anxiety and self-saving caricature, of distortion, of perverse, willful revisionism without which mod- ern [criticism] as such could not exist. (Anxiety 30) Bloom’s “theory of influence,” like Shakespeare’s plays, the poetry of John Ashbury, or Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit, is, in his mind, his one shot at immortality, and the criteria Bloom outlines for canonicity—that is, for becoming one of the books and schools of the ages—apply just as well to his own theory: “strangeness, a mode of originality that either cannot be assimilated, or that so assimilates us that we cease to see it as strange” (Western 3). “Fresh metaphor, or inventive troping,” Bloom writes, “always involves a departure from previous metaphor, and that departure depends upon at least partial turning away from or rejection of prior figuration” (9). By reading Bloom’s theory of influence pragmatically, we are reading it “aesthetically” (as a wild orchid rather than Trotsky)—that is, as one artistic enunciation in the long tradition of literary criticism that is itself a series of artistic enunciations that includes, among others, the works of not just Johnson, Hazlitt, and Pater but William K. Wimsatt, Northrop Frye, Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Warren, and Burke. We come to see it as a “clinamen,” a swerve away from his poetic fathers, an attempt to create an authentic voice in and against the din of literary history. This is just another way of saying that we can read Bloom’s theory of influence in terms of his own theory of influence; it is an expression of his own anxiety of influence, an evasion, “a process of avoiding, a way of escaping,” and what is being evaded, Bloom writes, in the “The Breaking of Form,” “ultimately is fate, particularly the necessity of dying” (9). Bloom, Lentricchia, and the public/private split In his After the New Criticism (1980), Frank Lentricchia adumbrates this par- ticular reading but is openly critical of the need for originality and thus, by dint of being original, achieving a kind of immortality. Bloom’s precursors, his “demanding father-figures,” Lentricchia writes, must be 8 The CEA Critic symbolically slain in an act of “misprision,” or willful misread- ing. Such an act will presumably clear imaginative space for the young apprentice whom Bloom calls (after Wallace Stevens) the ephebe. Within this unoccupied space the strong poet-to-be (or young critic: Bloom’s system will allow no distinction) believes himself free to make his own unique identity, to create himself out of nothing. (319) Lentricchia is right to argue that Bloom’s theory “is itself a complicated example of the theory of influence” (321). But, it is not just that, for Lentricchia, just after praising Bloom’s contribution to “contemporary criticism” (contemporary at the time was the 1960s and 70s), takes issue rather inexplicably not only with the very raison d’être of Bloom’s theory— its novelty—but also with the state of literary culture inside academia. In the final paragraph of After the New Criticism, Lentricchia writes, “Bloom represents much that is most valuable in contemporary criticism; he also represents what is most retrograde and anti-intellectual: the desire, articu- lated frequently in our advanced critical journals and graduate centers of theoretical training, to be an original theorist” (346). The earnestness of Lentricchia’s disaffection for academic criticism was borne out famously by his decision in the mid-1990s to give up criticism and write novels, a decision that is itself ironic given his claim that originality is retrograde and anti-intellectual. “Novel” not only implies new or original but, by the early 15th century, it also connoted the strange or unusual, criteria Bloom suggests are necessary for canonicity. In his Empire Burlesque: The Fate of Critical Culture in Global America, Daniel O’Hara includes a chapter on Lentricchia, “Lentricchia’s Frankness and the Place of Literature.” It is an illuminating and puzzling piece given Lentricchia’s criticisms of Bloom. According to O’Hara, Lentricchia’s mem- oir, The Edge of Night: A Confession, satirizes an author’s need for originality while bemoaning, in Bloomian fashion, how literary studies is transform- ing “itself into cultural studies out of embarrassment over the politically incorrect social positions of most canonical authors, particularly all those modern makers of surprising formal inventions of the creative imagination such as Pound, Yeats, Stevens, Frost, and Eliot” (O’Hara 63). Lentricchia’s complaint, O’Hara argues, is that literary critics now write for the market place and “practice [their] theories and methods by rote, performing in [their] works predictable roles according to purely predetermined scripts, with no space or time for the smallest improvisations. . . . The possibilities for intelligent selfhood and imaginative exchange have been crowded out” (63). What is needed, in Lentricchia’s view, are “literary works that experi- ment with and perform new modes of human subjectivity. In their stylistic choices, structural configurations, and intertextual resonances, such liter- ary works dramatize their imaginative critique of all normative critical prescriptions, whatever the informing model or motivation” (64). Except Benjamin D. Carson 9 for Lentricchia’s Foucauldian dislike of original authorship, Bloom would agree with this. For Lentricchia, as for New Historicists, “our identities are not ours to create autonomously, by singular fiat, but negotiated composite formations constituted in the give-and-take of social experience, however destitute, surprising, absurd, or painful that may turn out to be” (63). Lentricchia’s position, however, is much closer to Bloom’s than he would probably be willing to admit. They not only love many of the same poets (Whitman, Yeats, Frost, Stevens) and critics (Walter Pater, in particular) but are ardent critics of cultural studies in all of its iterations and mourn the passing of high literary culture.4 In some ways, The Edge of Night is Lentricchia’s own elegiac conclusion. But, Bloom and Lentricchia appear to part ways when it comes to the importance of originality. I say “appear” here because Lentricchia’s criticism of authorship rings hollow. While Lentricchia wants to distance himself from the need to claim origi- nal authorship (he would nod affirmatively at Foucault’s question “What matter who’s speaking?”), in The Edge of Night we find him, when traveling in Ireland, checking obsessively for his manuscript (of The Edge of Night): “Each morning of my sojourn in the west of Ireland it happens. In my bed and breakfast, arise, pack the few things I’ve removed from my luggage the night before, check the manuscript in the small bag: take it out, look at it, make sure all the pages are there, in order, put it back in, zip it up in its special side compartment” (81–2). Only minutes later, he is checking again to be sure he has not misplaced his manuscript. If originality is retrograde and anti-intellectual, then why might an original utterance be given pride of place in a “special side compartment”? Why the fear of losing what is not yours to claim? Unlike Lentricchia, Bloom follows Rorty in how Rorty distinguishes between “a private ethic of self-creation and a public ethic of mutual accommodation” (Contingency 34), which is another way of saying that Bloom, as Rorty comments in “Wild Orchids and Trotsky,” “abjure[s] the temptation to tie in one’s responsibilities to other people with one’s relation to whatever idiosyncratic thing or persons one loves with all one’s heart and soul and mind (or, if you like, the things or persons one is obsessed with)” (42). This distinction is key because it allows Bloom to practice obsessively his aesthetic criticism without having to justify it. He no more needs to defend himself against Eagleton, who links “the construc- tion of the modern notion of the aesthetic artefact” to the “construction of the dominant ideological forms of modern class society” (Ideology 3), than Proust needs to defend himself against Sartre’s claim that he is a “useless bourgeois wimp, a man whose life and writings were equally irrelevant to the only thing that really matters, the struggle to overthrow capitalism” (Rorty, “Wild” 42). Lentricchia wants to reconcile his private love of T. S. Eliot with his longing for justice—that is, “the liberation of the weak from the strong” (36). Like Rorty in his youth, Lentricchia wants “to be both an 10 The CEA Critic intellectual and spiritual snob and a friend of humanity” (36), the “Dirty Harry” of the academy. Bloom, by contrast, does not seek this reconcili- ation. Leaving his political leanings aside, he seeks rather to indulge his personal obsession: to create a new and interesting vocabulary, his “chosen metaphoric,” the anxiety of influence (Rorty, Contingency 39). This is how we should read Bloom. Reading Bloom Horizontally When reading Bloom’s theory of influence through a pragmatist’s eyes, we further benefit by not having to adjudicate between what admittedly appears to be two contradictory impulses in Bloom’s theory: an unironic Bloom who believes, like Kant and Plato, in the correspondence theory of truth; and an ironic Bloom who concedes that his novel system is con- tingent and that, however original, must be defeated in the war against time. The awareness of this potential defeat (“potential” because it must be repressed) is, in Bloom’s theory, the very source of the poet’s anxiety—it is the “dark and daemonic ground upon which” every poet takes his or her stand (Anxiety 25). Despite the brooding language here, Bloom, read ironically, offers not a tragic but a comedic vision, the hallmarks of which are, according to John Morreall, complexity, high tolerance for disorder, for ambiguity, for the unfamiliar, divergent thinking, playfulness and pragma- tism (21–39). The tone of so much of Bloom’s writing, from his earliest work through The Daemon Knows (2015), makes it easy to take Bloom at his word: that his theory of influence is a meta-narrative, the way of reading poetry, having slain the New Critics in the 1970s and all Resenters since. Bloom’s theory, read unironically (or Idealistically or as a Tragic vision, in Morreall’s terms), articulates what Rorty would call a “final vocabulary” and thus describes the poetic world of psychic warfare “as it really is.” In this reading, Bloom’s theory finds itself in the philosophical tradition of Kant, which, in Rorty’s words, “thinks of truth as a vertical relationship between representations and what is represented” (“Philosophy” 92). This reading helps us to understand better Eagleton’s rejection of Bloom’s theory. Marxist criticism argues for what Frederic Jameson calls the “priority of the political inter- pretation of text” (17), and is thus, for Eagleton, in Jameson’s words, “the absolute horizon of all reading and all interpretation” (Political 17). But, if we situate Bloom’s theory within the context of the history of literary criticism (a history of competing novel narratives), then Bloom writes in the tradition not of Kant but of Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit and Heidegger’s Being and Time, which, again in Rorty’s words, “thinks of truth horizontally—as the culminating reinterpretation of our pre- decessors’ reinterpretation of their predecessors’ reinterpretation” (92). Like Heidegger and Hegel, Bloom rejects the “intuition” that “sentences Benjamin D. Carson 11 are made true by the extralinguistic entities that they are about” (Rorty, Philosophy 28). He rejects, that is, the notion that language hooks up to something (an object) outside of language. Bloom’s theory, in this sense, is about re-describing things, not making things clearer, as analytic philoso- phers like Gottlob Frege and Bertrand Russell thought they were doing (28). Bloom is a storyteller, and the goal of his long prose poem, his tetral- ogy, is not to get things right. In Rorty’s words, Bloom hopes “to change not only your intuitions but your sense of who you are, and your notion of what it is most important to think about” (28–9). In his Philosophy as Poetry, Rorty teaches us how to think about Heidegger’s and Hegel’s projects, and what he says about these two great philosophers applies equally to Bloom: In the hope of getting you to change your self-image, your priorities, and your intuitions, Hegel tells you that the Absolute alone is true and Heidegger that language is the house of Being. If you stop at each such sentence and pause to ask yourself whether it has been backed up with a sound argument, you will never finish their books. To get through their books, you must temporarily suspend disbelief, get into the swing of the story that is being told, pick up the jargon as you go along, and then decide, after having given the entire book the most sympathetic reading you can, whether to move out into uncharted space. If you lay down those books feeling no temptation to make any such move, you may conclude that Hegel and Heidegger are, at best, failed poets and, at worst, self-infatuated obscurantists. (29) If it is the case that Bloom’s theory of influence, as articulated in his tetral- ogy, fails in “its transformative task” (29), then it does so not because it is not true but because Bloom’s new vocabulary did not catch on, leaving him a failed poet or a “self-infatuated obscurantist.” Whether or not this is the case is yet to be decided. Reading literary history horizontally, as Rorty does, allows for new critical vocabularies to enter the unending conversation and make their mark. Bloom’s theory, in this reading, competes (has an agonistic relation- ship) with preceding theories for originality. Again, it can be read ironi- cally in how Rorty refuses “to think of truth as correspondence to reality” (“Nineteenth-Century” 151). If taken unironically, however, Bloom’s anxi- ety of influence is Eagleton’s and Jameson’s Marxist criticism: “the absolute horizon of all reading and all interpretation.” It is now one of those pesky meta-narratives Jean-François Lyotard warned us about. And, Bloom does flirt with onto-theology, if not mysticism, when writing about the agonis- tic lives of poems. When Bloom writes, “Why most strong poems in our tradition, from Wordsworth on, manifest this masochistic impulse of rep- resentation, even as they strive to pull away from initial ironies, is beyond my present capacity to surmise” (“Breaking” 28), one gets the impression that 12 The CEA Critic poems would be manifesting masochistic impulses and pulling away from initial ironies whether literary critics cared to notice or not. Yet, Bloom can also sound like a card-carrying deconstructor when he writes, “words, even if we take them as magic, refer only to other words, to the end of it. Words will not interpret themselves, and common rules for interpreting words will never exist” (9). Here, we see Bloom as what Rorty would call a “textualist,” a critic [who] asks neither the author nor the text about their inten- tions but simply beats the text into a shape which will serve his own purpose. He makes the text refer to whatever is relevant to that purpose. He does this by imposing a vocabulary—a “grid,” in Foucault’s terminology—on the text which may have nothing to do with any vocabulary used in the text or by its author, and seeing what happens. (“Nineteenth-Century” 151) Bloom’s theory of influence is his grid, an entirely idiosyncratic vocabulary imposed on texts from Shakespeare to Stevens to Crane.5 The contradictory impulse—to declare unironically the anxiety of influence a final vocabulary, an absolute horizon, on the one hand; and to concede to the contingencies of history, textuality, and the movement of time, on the other—can be seen in Heidegger and Derrida, with whom Bloom has a kind of sibling rivalry. Though Heidegger set out to overthrow onto-theology, Derrida argues, according to Rorty, that Heidegger’s urge “to be still and listen to the single line of verse,” and his “preference for the simplicity and splendor of the word spoken on the hill, and also of his contempt for the footnote scribbled in the ergastulum down in the val- ley[,] . . . betrays a fatal taint of Kantianism, of the Platonic ‘metaphysics of presence’” (“Philosophy” 94). Derrida, too, Rorty furthers, in his attempt to find “a way to say something about language which will not convey the idea of ‘sign’ or ‘representation’ or ‘supplement’”—his solution is the notion of the “trace”—comes “perilously close to giving us a philosophy of language, and thereby perilously close to slipping back into” the onto- theological tradition he accused Heidegger of failing to overcome (100). When referring to Emerson, in Agon, Bloom speaks of making a “covenant with one’s own pneuma or spark-of-the-primal-Abyss” (24). He writes, “if the true soul is in full-ness of presence it is not the psyche but that spark, and the rich internal way of speaking is of what works and is” (25). Here we can imagine “one’s own pneuma” escaping the vicissitudes of time and influence, and settling fitfully into a moment of presence. Like Heidegger and Derrida, Bloom walks the tight-rope between onto-theology, which, writes Rorty, “originates in an attempt to evade our mortality”—and its deconstruction. (Rorty, “Fire”). Benjamin D. Carson 13 On (not) Applying Bloom The teasing out of contradiction in Bloom’s theory of influence is finally beside the point. It is the very trap we should avoid. It is not why we should read Bloom. Sorting out incongruities in Bloom’s theory of influ- ence whether to dismiss it as “inflexible and all-engulfing,” as Bruss does (Beautiful 362) or to put it to good use is equally off the mark.6 In fact, I argue that Bloom’s theory of influence is so novel, so singular and subjec- tive, that it cannot be applied by anyone other than Bloom. Despite the tetralogy of books outlining in painstaking detail how “misprision” or will- ful misreading works and presumably can be applied, it is difficult to see anyone writing Bloom’s books but Bloom, who, when writing, unleashes the same degree of “speculative energetics” he attributes to Emerson upon composing “Circles” (Daemon 175). No one can map “the influence of a mind on itself and of works on their author” like Bloom (Anatomy 29). Literary theories by definition are applied, but it is well-nigh impossible to imagine something we might call “Applied Bloomatology.” Bloom has a particular kinship with Burke. The breadth and depth of Burke’s reading, and his ability to synthesize the ideas of thinkers as disparate as Duns Scotus, Quintilian and Bentham, is stunning, and this makes his work particularly difficult to assimilate. Yet, Burke’s work, which Burke himself constantly revisited (often revising Prefaces) and which in its aim and scope was highly variegated, has found application in nearly every academic discipline. Bloom’s work, the product of a rather singular and obscure vision, hasn’t, and this, in my view, is not a strike against it. Two key works on Bloom speak to this point. Fite’s aforementioned important book Harold Bloom: The Rhetoric of Romantic Vision (1985) is pure- ly exegetical, explaining how Bloom’s project developed and then locating his “extreme version of revisionary Romanticism within relevant contexts in modern literary theory” (ix). It is not within the scope of Fite’s much- needed book to apply in new ways Bloom’s theory of influence to texts but rather to clarify the “esoteric paradigms” that Bloom has appropriated and which “intimidate or dismay many an interested reader” (ix). Peter De Bolla has done more than anyone to find applications for Bloom’s theory by first setting Bloom’s “diachronic rhetoric” within the history of rheto- ric. But, as De Bolla makes clear early in Harold Bloom: Towards Historical Rhetorics (1988), his primary concern is “with the implications and exten- sion of Bloom’s critical and theoretic work” in order to “build upon and develop Bloom’s notion of a re-conception of the field of rhetoric” (3). He is not concerned with “the problematic question of the ‘relevance’ of Bloom’s ‘theoretical’ work for traditional literacy criticism” (4), and, while he expounds on the notion of “misreading,” he does not offer novel read- ings of texts—that is, he does not apply Bloom’s theory to reveal the ways in which a poem manifests its anxiety by swerving away from a precursor 14 The CEA Critic poem. This, of course, is hardly a criticism but rather a statement about the aim and scope of two key monographs on Bloom.7 Reading Bloom, however, as a Rortyan pragmatist allows us to do another kind of exegesis, the same kind we would apply to Blake, Stevens, or Heidegger, whom Sarah Bakewell, in her At the Existentialist Café, calls “a literary innovator, and perhaps even as a kind of modernist novelist” (61). Cynthia Ozick, who is critical of Bloom’s project, is right to claim, as noted above, that Bloom’s oeuvre is less criticism than “a long theophanous prose poem, a rationalize version of Blake’s heroic Prophetic Books” (46). Bloom, she writes, is “a vast and subtle system-maker, an interrupter of expectations, a subverter of predictability—the writer, via misprision, of a new Scripture based on discontinuity of tradition” (46). Bloom, then, is a poet whose system offers a new way of thinking about poetry and the poet. Having suffered from what Sartre called “the neurosis of literature” since he was a very young man, Bloom developed a system deeply rooted in the now unfashionable private psyche. In his beautiful introduction to Wallace Stevens: Selected Poems, John N. Serio writes, “But the force of Steven’s poetry, what keeps drawing us back to his poems—to his words and images and metaphors and rhythms—is that he speaks to our vast and inarticulate interior world” (xiii), and he gives Helen Vendler and Harold Bloom credit for being two of “only a handful of readers” to have “empha- sized this quality” in Stevens’ work (xiii). Serio continues, “Bloom places Stevens squarely ‘in the curiously esoteric but centrally American tradition of Emerson, Whitman, Thoreau and Dickinson.’ He sees Stevens as the twentieth-century poet who best expresses ‘that solitary and inward glory we can none of us share with others’” (xiv). Bloom’s entire body of work (and not just his The Anatomy of Influence) is his attempt to share, in Valery’s words, “the influence of a mind on itself and of a work on its author” (qtd. in Anatomy 27). It is an attempt to make explicit his own “solitary and inward glory,” however “curiously esoteric.” Bloom, Rorty, and the Reading Life Bloom would agree with philosopher Robert Brandom (one of Rorty’s former students) that the point of human life is “to make and understand an indefinite number of novel claims, frame an indefinite number of novel purposes . . . and to say things that no-one else has ever said, things fur- thermore that would never have been said if we did not say them” (178). Brandom goes on to argue, “it is our capacity to transform the vocabularies in which we live and move and have our being, and so create new ways of being (for creatures like us)” (178). Bloom’s theory of influence invites us to do just that: “transform the vocabularies,” the poems, “in which we live and move and have our being.” It invites us—as “vocabulary mongers” (Brandom’s phrase)—to speak a new language, to, in Rorty’s words, “com- Benjamin D. Carson 15 pose one’s own variations on old themes, to put one’s twist on old words, to change a vocabulary by using it” (“Response” 189). Bloom, as creator and transformer of vocabularies, would also agree with Heidegger that poetry is “the supreme human activity” (Bakewell 184). And, Heidegger, Bakewell argues, “uses the word ‘poetry’ in a broad sense to mean much more than arranging words into verses. He traces it to its Greek root in poïesis—making or crafting—and he cites Hölderlin again, saying, ‘poeti- cally, man dwells on this earth.’ Poetry is a way of being” (184). Poetry, and literature, more broadly, for Bloom, too, as the subtitle of The Anatomy of Influence—“Literature as a Way of Life”—asserts, is not only a way of being, but a way of life. Like Nietzsche, who “writes that what is necessary for coming to know what most people are like is reading [italics original],” Bloom’s commitment to reading is, finally, about connecting with others, sharing intimately one’s nature in and through texts (Nehamas 29). And, this is why we should read Bloom. Shortly after being diagnosed with inoperable pancreatic cancer, Rorty, to whom Bloom dedicates Where Shall Wisdom Be Found? (2004), was having coffee with his elder son and a cousin, who happens to be a Baptist minis- ter. In light of his recent diagnosis, the visiting cousin asked “whether [he[ had found [his] thoughts turning toward religious topics” (“Fire”). Rorty, a lifelong non-believer, said no: “Well, what about philosophy?” my son asked. “No,” I replied, neither the philosophy I had written nor that which I had read seemed to have any particular bearing on my situation. I had no quarrel with Epicurus’s argument that it is irrational to fear death, nor with Heidegger’s suggestion that ontotheology origi- nates in an attempt to evade our mortality. But neither ataraxia (freedom from disturbance) nor Sein zum Tode (being toward death) seemed in point. (“Fire”) When his son, undoubtedly puzzled by the response, persisted and then asked, “Hasn’t anything you’ve read been of any use?” Rorty “found him- self blurting out, ‘poetry’” (“Fire”). While this may sound strange coming from a philosopher, it is hardly strange coming from this lover of wisdom. Rorty long ago ceased to distinguish between philosophy and literature, and, in fact, he came to privilege literature over what is still considered traditional philosophy. For Rorty, as for Bloom, poetry is deeply connected to life.8 When Serio writes about Stevens’ poems that “they transform us into introspective voyagers, questioners of our beliefs and certitudes,” and that “they excite the mind, test our core response to the world outside us, and deepen our self-awareness” (xv), he is articulating a sentiment funda- mental to Bloom and Rorty’s projects. In the final paragraph of “The Fire of Life,” published six months after his death on June 8, 2007, Rorty, sounding much like Bloom, writes, 16 The CEA Critic I now wish that I had spent somewhat more of my life with verse. This is not because I fear having missed out on truths that are incapable of statement in prose. There are no such truths; there is nothing about death that Swinburne and Landor knew but Epicurus and Heidegger failed to grasp. Rather, it is because I would have lived more fully if I had been able to rattle off more old chestnuts [e.g. poems by Swinburne and Landor]—just as I would have if I had made more close friends. Cultures with rich- er vocabularies are more fully human—farther removed from the beasts—than those with poorer ones; individual men and women are more fully human when their memories are amply stocked with verses. (“Fire”) We are more fully human when our memories are amply stocked with verses. In the age of Google, a memory stocked with much of anything is increasingly rare, and it takes little effort to imagine the dystopian future sketched by Walter M. Miller, Jr., in A Canticle for Leibowitz. Miller writes, “After the Deluge, the Fallout, the plagues, the madness, the confusion of tongues, the rage, there began the bloodletting of the Simplification,” a time when books were burned and teachers and scientists—the bearers of “knowledge-systems”—were killed (62, 63). Inhumanity reigned supreme; forgetfulness was de rigueur. Into this breech stepped Father Isaac Edward Leibowitz, a Cistercian, who, with permission from Rome, found a new community of the religious. . . . Its task, unan- nounced, and at first only vaguely defined, was to preserve human history for the great-great-great-grandchildren of the children of the simpletons who wanted it destroyed. . . . Its members were either “bookleggers” or “memorizers,” according to the tasks assigned. The bookleggers smuggled books to the southwest desert and buried them there in kegs. The memoriz- ers committed to rote memory entire volumes of history, sacred writings, literature, and science, in case some unfortunate book smuggler was caught, tortured, and forced to reveal the location of the kegs. (64) Among the “memorizers” we must include Rorty and, of course, Bloom, who, writes Sam Tanenhaus, in his review of The Anatomy of Influence, is “thoroughly steeped in several centuries’ worth of English and American poetry, acres of it committed to memory” (“Harold”).9 In an age more political than literary, such a view sounds nostalgic—or worse, sentimen- tal, another tired elegiac conclusion. But, this is a risk worth taking. Lovers of deep-reading, seekers of wisdom, the intellectually curious in search of “difficult pleasures” could do worse than read Harold Bloom, and read him through a pragmatist’s eyes, as a thinker, a poet, in its broadest, Heideggerian sense, who takes literature—literature as a way of life—and the vocabularies it bequeaths to us, seriously. Benjamin D. Carson 17 Like the greatest of all American poets, Whitman, Bloom contains multitudes, and we should read Bloom for the same reason we read deeply any original literary imagining. It is Bloom’s belief that “Whitman uniquely calls the reader-in-a-reader into more life” (Daemon 33). But, here “Whitman” can be read in an extended sense, as all original literary imaginings, particularly those which “impart wisdom by provocation, not instruction” (174). Finally, to give the old Bardolator the last word, we should read Bloom “not to believe, not to accept, not to contradict, but to learn to share in that one nature that writes and reads” (How to Read 29). Bridgewater State University Notes 1 The charge that Bloom prefers the Great Books and Schools of the Ages over works that speak directly to the issues of our time (particularly the race, class, and gender triumvirate) may be true but that, in my view, is no reason to dismiss him. While Bloom shares Nabokov’s disdain for what the latter calls “topical trash,” it is silly and, frankly, insulting to suggest that Homer, Shakespeare, Melville, Faulkner, Dostoevsky, James, etc. have nothing to offer people of color, women, or the poor. Dorothy Day would scoff at such a claim, as would Azar Nafisi, author of Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books. Along with Bloom, one of the best defenders still of the Great Books tradition is Denby, whose recent book Lit Up: One Reporter. Three Schools. Twenty-Four Books That Can Change Lives (2016) makes a remarkable case for the transformative power of literature, for literature as art. By observing a number of classrooms at the Beacon School, in Manhattan, a “cramped, ridiculously over- crowded place with a gym so intimate that a jump shot launched from fifteen feet would scrape the ceiling” (xiv), Denby “wanted to see if readers could be born— what happens when a nonreader becomes a reader?—which meant necessarily recording the students’ mistakes and awkward moments as well as their insights and breakthroughs as they struggled into life. If they struggled into life” (xix-xx). Unsurprisingly, with the guidance of excellent and committed teachers, readers at Beacon, New York City; Mamaroneck, Westchester County; and at Hillhouse High School, New Haven, were born into life. At Beacon, Daniel Guralnick assigned stu- dents Ellison’s Invisible Man. Denby comments, “if you read [Invisible Man] just for what it says about race, you were only half reading it” (235); and Guralnick adds, “‘There’s something much bigger here than any message. It’s art’” (235). 2 In “Solidarity or Objectivity?”, Richard Rorty writes, “Those who wish to ground solidarity in objectivity—call them ‘realists’—have to construe truth as correspon- dence to reality. . . . So they must construct an epistemology which has room for a kind of justification which is not merely social but natural, springing from human nature itself, and made possible by a link between that part of nature and the rest of nature. . . . By contrast, those who wish to reduce objectivity to solidarity—call them ‘pragmatists’—do not require either a metaphysics or an epistemology. They view truth as, in William James’ phrase, what is good for us to believe. So they do not need an account of a relation between beliefs and objects called ‘correspondence,’ nor an account of human cognitive abilities which ensures that our species is capable of entering into that relation” (22). To be clear, when I speak of pragmatism 18 The CEA Critic generally or of reading Bloom “through a pragmatist’s eyes,” I am invoking Rorty’s version of pragmatism. Readers interested in Rortyan pragmatism should start with Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity (1989); Rorty’s 2004 Page-Barbour Lectures, recently published as Philosophy as Poetry (2016), will prove a useful introduction to Rorty’s thinking about the relationship between philosophy and literature. His Consequences of Pragmatism (1982) and Philosophy as Cultural Politics (2007) collect early and late papers, respectively, on all of the issues that he was most interested in throughout his long career. For Bloom’s influence on Rorty, see Áine Mahon’s The Ironist and the Romantic: Reading Richard Rorty and Stanley Cavell (2014). 3 In Contingency, Irony, and Solidarity, Rorty “borrows [his] definition of ‘liberal’ from Judith Sklar, who says that liberals are the people who think that cruelty is the worst thing we do” (xv). Sklar sketches her version of liberalism in Ordinary Vices (1984). 4 Lentricchia and Bloom, while splitting over T. S. Eliot, are one when it comes to Pater. In “My Kinsman, T. S. Eliot,” Lentricchia writes, “is it becoming obvious to you that I’m a somewhat uneasy Italian American esthete who finds Walter Pater, unofficial mentor of Oscar Wilde, almost sufficient?” (55). Bloom, incidentally, claims Oscar Wilde “was right about everything” (Western 16). 5 Bloom’s claims about Shakespeare, e.g. that he “is the Canon” or that he “invented the human,” are outside the scope of this essay. For these particular issues, see Chapter 2. Shakespeare, the Center of the Canon, in his The Western Canon (1994), and, of course, his Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human (1999). 6 Paul de Man once felt confident enough to suggest, “it will probably turn out that, in his understanding of the patterns of mis-reading . . . Harold Bloom has been ahead of everybody else all along” (274). While this may be the case, mis-reading never quite caught fire in the way either Bloom or de Man might have wished. 7 The most recent study on Bloom, Alistair Heys’ The Anatomy of Bloom: Harold Bloom and the Study of Influence and Anxiety, “outline[s] those elements in Bloom’s work that explore his Gnostic relationship with important Protestant and American figures like Blake, Whitman, and Emerson” (1); Heys “proposes to distinguish between Bloom’s Jewish cultural background and the more pervasive American- Protestant culture that he entered as an academic . . .” (5). 8 In The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage, Paul Elie recounts a conversation between Dorothy Day and Robert Coles’s students. Day, also look- ing back on her life, shares Rorty’s sentiment about the importance and power of reading great works of literature: During a visit to St. Joseph’s House, one of Robert Coles’s stu- dents had asked her: What is the meaning of your life? How would you like to be remembered? She had replied at length, apologizing for her “rambling, disconnected thinking.” She said she had tried to treat the stranger as Christ: speaking kindly to the guests, making sure they were well fed, earning their respect. And she hoped she had lived a life worthy of the great books she had read. “I’d like people to say that ‘she really did love those books!’ You know, I’m always telling people to read Dickens or Tolstoi, or read Orwell, or read Silone. I could be one of your teachers— though I’m not a great one for analyzing those novels; I want to live by them! That’s the ‘meaning of my life’—to live up to the moral vision of the Church, and of some of my favorite writers . . . Benjamin D. Carson 19 to take those artists and novelists to heart, and live up to their wisdom: a lot of that came from Jesus, as you probably know, because Dickens and Dostoevski and Tolstoi kept thinking of Jesus themselves all through their lives.” (452–53) 9 In 1984, Sam Tanenhaus published a wonderful little book called Literature Unbound: A Guide for the Common Reader. As his subtitle suggests, he, like Bloom, believes great literature is accessible to everyone, not just the academic élite. And, in a very Bloomian move, he provides at the end of the book a list of “Suggested Readings” that could easily be dubbed “the Great Books and Schools of the Ages.” Works Cited Arac, Jonathan. Afterword. The Yale Critics: Deconstruction in America, edited by Jonathan Arac, Wlad Godzich, and Wallace Martin, U of Minnesota P, 1983, pp. 176–202. Bakewell, Sarah. At the Existentialist Café: Freedom, Being, and Apricot Cocktails. Other P, 2016. Blake, William. “Jerusalem.” The Complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake, edited by David V. Erdman, Anchor, 1988, pp. 146–258. Bloom, Harold. Agon: Towards a Theory of Revisionism. Oxford UP, 1982. ———. How to Read and Why. Scribner, 2000. ———. The Anatomy of Influence: Literature as a Way of Life. Yale UP, 2011. ———. The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry. Oxford UP, 1973. ———. “The Breaking of Form.” Deconstruction and Criticism: Harold Bloom, Paul de Man, Jacques Derrida, Geoffrey Hartman, J. Hillis Miller. Continuum, 1979. ———. The Daemon Knows: Literary Greatness and the American Sublime. Spiegel & Grau, 2015. ———. The Western Canon: The Books and School of the Ages. Harcourt Brace & Co., 1994. Brandom, Robert B. “Vocabularies of Pragmatism: Synthesizing Naturalism and Historicism.” Rorty and His Critics, edited by Robert B. Brandom, Blackwell, 2000, pp.156–183. Bruss, Elizabeth. Beautiful Theories: The Spectacle of Discourse in Contemporary Criticism. 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The Anatomy of Bloom: Harold Bloom and the Study of Influence and Anxiety. Bloomsbury, 2014. Jameson, Fredric. The Political Unconscious: Narrative as a Socially Symbolic Act. Cornell UP, 1981. Lentricchia, Frank. After the New Criticism. U of Chicago P, 1980. ———. “My Kinsman, T.S. Eliot.” Wild Orchids and Trotsky: Messages from American Universities, edited by Mark Edmundson, Penguin, 1993, pp. 53–75. ———. The Edge of Night: A Confession. Random House, 1994. Mahon, Áine. The Ironist and the Romantic: Reading Richard Rorty and Stanley Cavell. Bloomsbury, 2014. Miller, Walter M. Jr. A Canticle for Leibowitz. Eos, 2006. Morreal, John. Comedy, Tragedy, and Religion. State U of New York P, 1999. Nabokov, Vladimir. Lolita. Vintage, 1997. Nehamas, Alexander. Nietzsche: Life as Literature. Harvard UP, 1985. O’Hara. Daniel T. Empire Burlesque: The Fate of Critical Culture in Global America. Duke UP, 2003. Ozick, Cynthia. “Judaism & Harold Bloom.” Commentary, vol. 67, no. 1, 1979, pp. 43-51. Rorty, Richard. Contingency, Irony, Solidarity. Cambridge UP, 1989. ———. “Nineteenth-Century Idealism and Twentieth-Century Textualism.” Consequences of Pragmatism. U of Minnesota P, 1982, pp. 139–59. ———. “Philosophy as a Kind of Writing: An Essay on Derrida.” Consequences of Pragmatism. U of Minnesota P, 1982, pp. 90–109. ———. Philosophy as Poetry. U of Virginia P, 2016. ———. “Response to Robert Brandom.” Rorty and His Critics, edited by Robert B. Brandom. Blackwell, 2000, pp. 183–89. ———. “Solidarity or Objectivity?” Objectivity, Relativism, and Truth, Philosophical Papers Volume 1. Cambridge UP, 1995, pp. 21–34. ———. “The Fire of Life.” Poetry Foundation. N.p., 18 Nov. 2007. Web. 13 Aug. 2016. ———. “Wild Orchids and Trotsky.” Wild Orchids and Trotsky: Messages from American Universities, edited by Mark Edmundson, Penguin, 1993, pp. 31–50. Said, Edward. The World, the Text, and the Critic. Harvard UP, 1983. Serio, John N. Introduction. Wallace Stevens: Selected Poems, edited by John N. Serio. Knopf, 2013. Sklar, Judith N. Ordinary Vices. Harvard UP, 1984. Tanenhaus, Sam. “Harold Bloom: An Uncommon Reader.” The New York Times N.p., 20 May 2011. Web. 8 Aug. 2016. 
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work_jy5ye7uvyfa73mzpoeroyfz5bq	----	10841_2006_9018_11_1-web 47..59 Abstract Studies of conservation biology involving tiger beetles have become increasingly common in the last 15 years. Governments and NGOs in several countries have considered tiger beetles in making policy decisions of national conservation efforts and have found tiger beetles useful organisms for arguing broad conservation issues. We trace the evolution of the relationship between tiger beetle studies and con- servation biology and propose that this history may in itself provide a model for anticipating developments and improvements in the ability of conservation biol- ogy to find effective goals, gather appropriate data, and better communicate generalizations to non-scientific decision makers, the public, and other scientists. According to the General Continuum of Scientific Perspectives on Nature model, earliest biological studies begin with natural history and concentrate on observations in the field and specimen collecting, fol- lowed by observing and measuring in the field, manipulations in the field, observations and manipu- lations in the laboratory, and finally enter theoretical science including systems analysis and mathematical models. Using a balance of historical and analytical approaches, we tested the model using scientific studies of tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae) and the field of conservation biology. Conservation biology and tiger beetle studies follow the historical model, but the results for conservation biology also suggest a more complex model of simultaneous parallel developments. We use these results to anticipate ways to better meet goals in conservation biology, such as actively involv- ing amateurs, avoiding exclusion of the public, and improving language and style in scientific communi- cation. Keywords Cicindelidae Æ Conservation biology Æ History Æ Models Æ Tiger beetles Introduction The early 20th Century Spanish philosopher, George Santayana, is credited with the quotation, ‘‘Those who cannot learn from history are doomed to repeat it.’’ Although easily dismissed as a trivial aphorism, is it possible that this statement constitutes a testable hypothesis that we can use to understand and antici- pate advances in sciences such as conservation biol- ogy? Conservation biology is a field with too few years of experience to have engendered broad interest in its past (Zirnstein 1996; Meine 1999; Siemann 2003). However, its history together with that for longer- established supporting fields, such as systematics, genetics, wildlife management, and ecology, may hold critical information for developing future directions and goals for conservation biology. Faced with con- stant shortages of funding to adequately gather infor- mation and conduct studies, lessons from history may be useful as another set of tools in the quest for meeting these goals (Maienschein 2000; Gaddis 2004). CXLV, Studies of Tiger Beetles D. L. Pearson (&) School of Life Sciences, Arizona State University, Tempe, AZ 85287-4501, USA e-mail: dpearson@asu.edu F. Cassola Via F. Tomassucci 12/20, I-00144 Rome, Italy J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 DOI 10.1007/s10841-006-9018-9 123 B E E T L E C O N S E R V A T I O N Are we doomed to repeat history? A model of the past using tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae) and conservation biology to anticipate the future David L. Pearson Æ Fabio Cassola Received: 23 September 2005 / Accepted: 20 December 2005 / Published online: 7 November 2006 � Springer Science+Business Media B.V. 2006 In a search for patterns within the history of scientific studies, historians have analyzed several fields from physics (Nye 1996) to biology (Killingsworth and Palmer 1992). Are there steps common to all scientific en- deavor? What recognizable patterns of change take place, and what are the significant factors causing the changes? How can they best be compared? Apart from satisfying intellectual curiosity, a solid understanding of patterns in the development of science could prove useful for conservation biology in many ways. It could: (1) help determine priorities for funding agencies, (2) enable biologists to better communicate with and inform non-scientific decision makers, (3) focus individual re- searcher goals, (4) prepare cooperative research agen- das, (5) formulate more reliable and efficient models for management and conservation goals, and (6) help anticipate problems that can then be ameliorated. Methods The historical model History does not lend itself to experimental repeat- ability (Gould 1989), and thus tests of patterns in his- tory rely on alternative methods. One of the most reliable techniques for answering pertinent historical questions and testing for patterns is by using insights from one field to tell us something about another—a process called consilience by historians. In so doing, we can make sense of the past and perhaps anticipate the future (Gaddis 2004). Within biology, such patterns have been proposed for understanding the historical progression of human cultures. Important causes with consistent outcomes across unrelated cultures include environmental factors (Rolett and Diamond 2004), plant and animal domestication (Diamond 2002), dis- ease (Acemoglu et al. 2001) and food production (Hibbs and Olsson 2004). Along the same lines, one general model of the his- tory of science proposed to anticipate historical pat- terns in biology is the General Continuum of Scientific Perspectives on Nature (GCSPN) (Killingsworth and Palmer 1992). According to the GCSPN, earliest bio- logical studies begin with natural history and concen- trate on observations in the field and specimen collecting, followed by observing and measuring in the field, manipulations in the field, observations and manipulations in the laboratory, and finally enter the- oretical science, including systems analysis and mathe- matical models. What is not clear is whether each of these chapters in the development of science can be identified as a chronological step or phase, or even more controversial, whether each step has identifiable and quantifiable characters that can be used to estimate the maturity of the field of study (Farber 2000). In addition to these uncertainties, this model has other constraints. As with all models, simplification is an acceptable aspect of their use as long as the results are interpreted within these limitations. Also, similar to many ecological and landscape studies, using time intervals that are too small or too large can obscure important patterns. Finally, sociological, economic, and psychological forces can be more crucial in affecting models of temporal changes than generally realized, but these factors often are difficult to incor- porate into general models. With these assumptions in mind, Battalio (1998) listed a series of specific char- acters that would demonstrate historical steps within the GCSPN model: (STEP 1) Descriptive natural history and search for new species predominate (STEP 2) Now an experimental science rather than a natural history model (STEP 3) Power is transferred from expert amateurs to trained professional scientists, and graduate training for employment in the field has become available (STEP 4) Systematics no longer dominant, and re- search focused more on theoretically complex issues with extensive use of graphs and statistical inference in publications (STEP 5) Formation of research teams and increasing evidence of socialization, such as use of acknowledg- ments sections, associations of peers, and co-authored publications (STEP 6) Technical terminology and methodology so refined they now limit the audience that can fully comprehend them (Fig. 1). Test subjects The history of entomology provides a rich and varied set of potential subjects to test the model. However, Fig. 1 Linear progression of steps in GCSPN model in which each step replaces the former one 48 J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 123 because of the myriad and often independent histories of various insects groups within entomology (Sorensen 1995), we felt that an initial test of the GCSPN model would be more manageable by using a single group. Tiger beetles (Coleoptera: Cicindelidae) provide a relatively discrete taxonomic unit whose history is well documented (Pearson and Cassola 2005). The tiger beetles are a small but distinct group of over 2600 species whose biology is also well known (Pearson and Vogler 2001). These beetles are attractive, fast-flying and fast-running insect predators that occur in many diverse habitats around the world. Many of the same characteristics of tiger beetles that have generated considerable interest among amateurs and professional biologists have also contributed to their increasing role in conservation studies. Most important among these characteristics is the ease with which most species can be found and identified in the field, their habitat specificity, and their value as indicators of habitat health and of biodiversity. Also, because they have been well-collected and studied, their past and present distributions are known sufficiently to evaluate historic trends of decline in range or abundance (Desender et al. 1994; Knisley and Fenster 2005). In addition, we will use the history of the field of conservation biology as a test subject. With a combi- nation of narrative and comparative analysis, we pro- pose to compare these two histories to test the validity of the model. Finally, we pursue the possibility that if the resultant pattern of steps conforms to the GCSPN model, can the model and its assumptions be used to anticipate and direct future steps in conservation biology? Results Step 1: Descriptive natural history and search for new species predominate As claimed by the GCSPN, much of the earliest history of conservation biology revolved around documenta- tion of species, in this case their extinctions. In the late 18th Century, American authors Ralph Waldo Emer- son and Henry David Thoreau influenced the devel- opment of Transcendentalism, a philosophy associated with nature. Through their writings, preservation of nature and wilderness became a powerful, novel doc- trine. In the midst of manifest destiny and impressions of inexhaustible resources, the unexpected disappear- ance of once abundant species, such as the Passenger Pigeon, and near extinction of the American Bison, first made extinction seem a real possibility, and the causes of extinction of individual species became an important area of study for the nascent field of con- servation biology. Because of an extensive knowledge of taxonomy and distribution starting with Linné (1758), tiger bee- tles lent themselves to early studies of declining pop- ulations and extinctions. As such, several species and populations of tiger beetles became some of the first insects declared legally endangered or threatened with extinction. Pearson et al. (2005) estimate that at least 33 (15%) of the 223 named species and subspecies of tiger bee- tles in Canada and the United States may be declining at a rate that justifies their consideration for inclusion on the US Fish and Wildlife Service’s List of Endan- gered and Threatened species (Fig. 2). However, at present, only four of these are officially listed by the federal government, and several others are under consideration for listing. In addition, several other countries (Belgium, Canada, Germany, Great Britain, Lithuania, The Netherlands, South Africa and Sweden), at least 24 individual states and provinces within the United States and Canada, and international NGOs (World Conservation Monitoring Centre and IUCN) have developed lists of endangered and threa- tened species that include tiger beetles. Few insects are well-enough known globally to document these types of population decline. Because of the rich collections of tiger beetle specimens avail- able for study, however, the disappearance of species from former parts of the range can be authenticated. From these historical records, some long-term changes in the environment can also be deduced (Nagano 1980; Desender and Turin 1989; Desender et al. 1994; Yarbrough and Knisley 1994; Kamoun 1996; Trautner 1996; Berglind et al. 1997; Diogo et al. 1999; Knisley and Hill 2001; Richoux 2001; Sikes 2002; Goldstein and Desalle 2003; Horgan and Chávez 2004; Mawdsley 2005). Thus, tiger beetles help offer a window into our past and can provide insight as to where protective measures are needed (Babione 2003). Step 2: Now an experimental science rather than a natural history model For tiger beetle studies, the major intellectual advance during the last half of the 18th Century was an often- conflicting attempt to place the growing number of species into a natural array of groupings. By moving from pure description to evolutionary questions, these attempts at phylogenetics were also some of the first signs of a change into an experimental paradigm (Barrow 1998). With more species known, better J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 49 123 chances for comparisons, and greater competition for research subjects among the increasing number of experts, tiger beetle systematists ventured into more sophisticated areas of research. Field naturalists such as A.R. Wallace and H. W. Bates often collected tiger beetles wherever they traveled. Emergent but signifi- cant ideas about behavior, ecology and evolution also grew from their experiences of collecting and observ- ing these beetles. The German medical doctor, Wal- ther Horn, became the greatest authority and acknowledged specialist of the tiger beetle family, working almost solitarily for more than 50 years. Although predominantly taxonomic in nature, his articles began, later in the 1900s, to incorporate experimentally testable ideas of habitat, biogeography and intraspecific variation (subspecies). Besides reconstructing the past, tiger beetles are useful for conservation in other ways. Because of political, sociological and economic pressures, conser- vation policy and research are under pressure to pro- duce quick results. This pressure is so pervasive, and the time, money and personnel to do the work are so limited that conservation biology is called a ‘‘crisis discipline,‘‘ in which risk analysis has become a major element (Maguire 1991). A common approach to resolving these problems has been to use indicator taxa as test organisms that purportedly represent other taxa in a complex environment. By focusing studies on a small but representative subset of the habitat or eco- system, patterns of habitat degradation and population losses can be more quickly and clearly distinguished (Noss 1990). Unfortunately most taxa suggested for use as indi- cators have been selected primarily on the basis of their public appeal (Pearson 1994). The consequences have cast doubt on the general usefulness and accuracy of bioindicators in conservation policy-making. For instance, among animal taxa, most studies using indi- cator taxa have relied on vertebrates, especially those ‘‘species of high public interest’’ (USDI 1980). Verte- brates, however, tend to be relatively long-lived, have low rates of population increase, long generation times, and comparatively low habitat specificity (Murphy et al. 1990), all of which tax the time and finances for proper investigation. As a result, there is a trend now to rely more and more on arthropod species, especially insects, instead of, or in addition to, vertebrates as appropriate indicator taxa (Pyle et al. 1981; Kremen 1992; Samways 1994; McGeoch 1998). Tiger beetles have been used throughout the world to test and develop better guidelines for choosing bioindicators (Holeski and Graves 1978; Schultz 1988; Bauer 1991; Pearson and Cassola 1992; Rivers-Moore and Samways 1996; Kitching 1996; Rodrı́guez et al. 1998; Cassola and Pearson 2000; Cassola 2002; Arndt et al. 2005). First, the category of bioindicator is determined (Kremen et al. 1993). Will it be used for monitoring (Greenberg and McGrane 1996), in Fig. 2 Controlled area in Santa Cruz Co., California, to protect the officially endangered Ohlone Tiger Beetle (Cicindela ohlone) Photo courtesy Univ. Calif. Santa Cruz Grounds Dept. 50 J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 123 inventory (Lees et al. 1999), as an umbrella (Mitter- meier et al. 2004), or some other type of model organism? Then a claim is made that a species or taxon, such as tiger beetles, is ideal as a bioindicator in a specific category. That leads to tests of whether this proposed indicator taxon meets the demands of widely accepted logistical and biological criteria for ideal indicators within each category. A useful bioindicator taxon should have characteristics such as stable tax- onomy, well-known biology and readily observed and manipulated (Brown 1991). More recently, it has be- come evident that even when chosen carefully, a single taxon is unlikely to be adequate. Seldom will a single taxon reflect accurately an entire habitat or ecosystem (Ricketts et al. 1999). Choosing a suite of indicator taxa from different trophic levels or different subhab- itats within the area of interest probably produces better data on which to base rational and informed biological and policy decisions. Nevertheless, each of the suite of candidates should be vetted experimentally to determine its appropriateness for that specific use as a bioindicator. Step 3: Power is transferred from expert amateurs to trained professional scientists, and graduate training for employment in the field has become available In the late 1800s, the first conservation organizations, such as the Audubon Society and the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, were formed with both pro- fessional and amateur participants. In the next few decades, the work of these professionals and amateurs created many conflicts, such as the benefits of specimen collecting and use of common names. Little by little, professional academicians and government employees with advanced degrees, such as Aldo Leopold and Rachel Carson, took over the study and communica- tion of conservation problems. In 1985 the Society for Conservation Biology was established, and by 2000 it had 5100 professional members. Conservation studies that involve insects have become more common (Bossart and Carlton 2002) in recent years, often focused by international insect organizations, such as the Xerces Society for the Conservation of Inverte- brates. In 1997 the Journal of Insect Conservation was launched in conjunction with the British Butterfly Conservation Society. By this time additional national societies dedicated to the conservation of insects had been formed in Asia, Europe and North America. Along with journals focused on this area, graduate programs and salaried positions as conservation biol- ogists, many of whom use insects as test organisms, became established, and the leadership and predomi- nance of professionals became more and more obvious. For tiger beetles, the near monopoly of a single expert, Walther Horn, had great influence on the direction of studies. Beyond his tight control of tiger beetle taxonomy, however, a few other professional biologists began to publish scientific articles using tiger beetles as test organisms for geological history (Wickham 1904), ecology (Shelford 1907), and behav- ior (Shelford 1902). The use of tiger beetles in con- servation did not begin until the late 20th Century (Pearson and Vogler 2001), and some potentially divisive problems, such as the development of common names, were less disruptive among amateur and pro- fessional tiger beetle workers (Pearson 2004) than with other groups, such as birds, butterflies and dragonflies. Even more subtly, professionalization of scientific articles, including those for conservation biology and tiger beetle studies, is reflected in its evolving language, writing styles, and grammar. Linguistic analysis of journals and scientific articles shows consistent changes that indicate levels of expertise and establish levels of authority, further separating professionals from ama- teurs. Some examples of changing words include adverbs that show degrees of reliability, such as ‘‘undoubtedly’’ and ‘‘possibly,’’ induction, such as ‘‘must’’ and ‘‘evidently,’’ identification of hearsay evi- dence, such as ‘‘it seems’’ and ‘‘apparently,’’ reserva- tions of deduction, such as ‘‘presumably’’ and ‘‘could,’’ and hedges, such as ‘‘approximately’’ (Chafe 1986). In addition, professional science writers use distinctive writing devices that include reduced use of personal pronouns, reliance on passive voice, a decrease in the number of simple sentences, the presence of technical terminology, an emphasis on reliability of evidence, and the use of citations (Lakoff and Johnson 1980). Carter (1990) also showed that although professionals rewriting scientific articles for semi-popular or popular consumption tend to write in broader generalities and use methods more similar to amateurs, they retain a concept of domain-specific knowledge that distin- guishes them from the style of amateurs. Step 4: Systematics no longer dominant, and research focused more on theoretically complex issues with extensive use of graphs and statistical inference in publications Among tiger beetles, in areas other than taxonomy, the 1960s saw a relatively small increase in articles published on behavior, ecology, morphology, bioge- ography and ecology (Pearson 1988). But starting in the 1980s, physiological studies of tiger beetles J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 51 123 emerged (Dreisig 1980; Hadley et al. 1988; Gilbert 1997; Hoback et al. 2000; Okamura and Toh 2004). In the 1990s, genetics studies began to appear (Galián et al. 1990; Proença et al. 2002), and by this time, these and other non-taxonomic publications constituted 85% of the articles on tiger beetles with statistical proce- dures and graphs. One area in which tiger beetles were at the forefront of more complex conservation biology studies was in the statistical application of assumptions of depen- dence among data points. In initial comparisons of species patterns across regions and countries, Pearson and Cassola (1992) claimed that among the tested attributes of tiger beetles as an ideal bioindicator was a high correlation between their species numbers and those of other groups. If one goal is to establish con- servation areas with the highest species diversity, tiger beetles were very useful because where you found more of them you also found more of other species like birds and butterflies. But tiger beetles, at the right season, could often be surveyed in a few weeks whereas birds took years to survey adequately in the same area. In addition, it was easy to train students and local workers to observe and sample tiger beetles, but training these same people to observe other taxa, such as birds and butterflies, was an enormous undertaking. Thus, one could argue that tiger beetles are logistically useful and biologically appropriate candidates to help represent entire habitats or ecosystems for species inventories. A major problem, however, was the misapplication of a common simplifying component in statistical tests used by many biologists (Carroll and Pearson 1998a). In virtually all traditional statistical tests, a datum from one point in space or time is assumed to not influence or affect any another datum in the analysis obtained from a different point in space or time (independent). If, however, the data are dependent (often called autocorrelated), and many subsequent studies show that many if not most biological data are likely to be dependent, the resultant analysis may be faulty or misleading (Carroll and Pearson 2000). Many researchers now apply more appropriate statistics, such as geostatistics (Cressie 1991), in conservation biology that avoid the assumption of independence. Tiger beetles were among the first taxa using these modern analytical techniques (Carroll 1998; Pearson and Car- roll 1998; 1999; Carroll and Pearson 1998b, Pearson and Carroll 2001). In addition to pioneering statistical analyses, tiger beetles also were used in early applications of molec- ular analysis for geographical implications of conser- vation. For instance, the subdivision of lineages of the tiger beetle species, Cicindela dorsalis, in Florida between the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic Ocean, can be detected only with molecular markers. How- ever, the fact that species of several taxa on one side of a barrier are consistently different from those on an- other is highly significant for conservation (Pearson and Vogler 2001). These regions of distinctive genetic overlap can reflect historical events in evolutionary time (Crandall et al. 2000; Goldstein et al. 2000; Satoh et al. 2004). By incorporating an evolutionary time scale, we not only gain another valuable factor to in- clude in our conservation planning, but it also makes us aware that areas chosen for protection require man- agement goals focused not just on 10, 20 or even 100 years, but for much longer into the past as well as the future (Schwartz 1999; Barraclough and Vogler 2002). Step 5: Formation of research teams and increasing evidence of socialization, such as use of acknowledgments sections, associations of peers, and co-authored publications Conservation biology has quickly moved from single and often isolated researchers such as Leopold and Carson to a predominance of interactive researcher teams. Among tiger beetle studies, there is consider- able evidence for similar changes on a broad level, some of them apparently caused by the appearance of field guides and general books on the biology of tiger beetles beginning in the 1990s (Knisley and Schultz 1997; Leonard and Bell 1999; Acorn 200l; Choate 2003; Pearson et al. 2005; Pearson and Shetterly 2006). Before this time, only individuals with time and inter- est to search through often obscure journals and arcane terms could acquire the basic knowledge and identifi- cation skills to do research using tiger beetles. More specific evidence of socialization is in co-authored publications. In one of the first general reviews of tiger beetle biology (Pearson 1988), only 23% of the cited articles were co-authored. Twelve years later in a book on general tiger beetle biology (Pearson and Vogler 2001) 40% of its citations were co-authored. In 1969, an informal correspondence among tiger beetle enthusiasts developed into a journal called ‘‘Cicindel- a.’’ Another indicator of socialization showed advances within this highly specialized journal. In the 1970s only 2% of its articles had acknowledgments sections; in the 1980s, 26% had these sections; and in the 1990s, 83% of them did. Similarly, the complex nature of modern conserva- tion biology research necessitates more and more research teams. For instance, many modern conserva- 52 J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 123 tion biologists working on rare and endangered species now rely heavily on molecular markers (Avise 1994; Galián and Vogler 2003) to distinguish species and populations within species. The importance of con- serving intra-specific variation is reflected in the U.S. Endangered Species Act, which calls for the conser- vation of ‘‘independent population segments’’. This makes conservation of distinct populations within a species a legal requirement, and involves coordination of field biologists, laboratory technicians, lawyers, and politicians. This coordination of effort is obvious in many areas of conservation biology, and recently has also become a dominant theme in tiger beetle studies (Knisley and Hill 1992; Vogler et al. 1993; Moritz 1994; Vogler and Desalle 1994; Vogler 1998). Some promising future uses of tiger beetles have direct ramifications for conservation biology, and most of them will involve teams that are interdisciplinary. These areas include climate change (Ashworth 2001), reintroductions (Omland 2002; Brust 2002; Knisley et al. 2005), habitat reclamation (Hussein 2002), habi- tat management (Omland 2004) and location of con- servation reserves and parks (Mittermeier and Mittermeier 1997; Desender and Bosmans 1998; Andriamampianina et al. 2000; Pearson and Carroll 2001; Mittermeier et al. 2004). Step 6: Technical terminology and methodology so refined they now limit the audience that can fully comprehend it Although communication with amateurs and the public is a stated goal of the developing cadre of professional conservation biologists, growing reliance on increas- ingly complex technology and terminology, mathe- matical models, sophisticated statistics and computer programs have excluded many amateurs and even some professionals in related fields. For tiger beetles, the rapidly growing use of highly sophisticated disciplines, such as molecular biology, statistical modeling, and satellite imagery have intro- duced many technical words and concepts. This jargon, in turn, can quickly limit comprehension to a narrow array of associated professionals. As measured in terms of scientific discourse, this trend includes increasing length and number of published articles, increasing sentence complexity, use of multi-word noun phrases, as well as narrowly defined technical terms. It is also well advanced among tiger beetle workers, especially in complex fields, such as molecular studies (Galián et al. 1990; Morgan et al. 2000; Proença and Galián 2003; Goldstein and Desalle 2003; Pons et al. 2004) and mathematical modeling (Carroll and Pearson 2000; Van Dooren and Matthysen 2004). Paradoxically, although the often-growing com- plexity of terminology and methodology used in advanced studies of tiger beetles may have excluded most amateurs and many traditional taxonomists, ecologists and behavioral researchers, it appears to have attracted others. For instance, molecular biolo- gists and mathematical modelers seeking appropriate systems on which to apply their technology have used data from tiger beetles with little previous knowledge of the animals themselves. Also, when the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service listed several tiger beetle species as endangered or threatened, economists, sociologists, foresters, politicians, land owners and members of many unrelated fields, who had little or no previous interest in these taxa, suddenly needed to know about them. At this point in the march of scientific history, the exclusion of tiger beetle amateurs from complex molecular and statistical studies, while lamentable is not debilitating. However, for conservation biology, just as the field of study reaches a high level of sci- entific rigor that knowingly will exclude many partici- pants, it simultaneously reaches a point where it must communicate with a growing number of essential participants. Many of these participants are unlikely to comprehend the message or be able to interpret the results of the increasingly complex but more reliable scientific effort. The legislators, judges, lawyers, teachers, and reporters who are critical for imple- menting policy decisions may not be able to under- stand the data and generalizations upon which they are basing their decisions. These apparently mutually exclusive goals and effort are potentially debilitating. Discussion Do the histories of tiger beetle studies and conservation biology follow the model? Both tiger beetle studies and conservation biology show patterns of change over their history consistent with the GCSPN. However, conservation biology has done so at a velocity that often blurs the progression. Studies of tiger beetles took hundreds of years to arrive at Step 6 and in the last 25 years have become greatly entwined with conservation biology. Conservation biology took less than a century to reach this level, and most of the steps were passed in the last 20 years (Primack 2002). J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 53 123 Although the GCSPN model appears to have broad relevance as shown in its application to the brief his- tory of conservation biology, the rapid advance of this field has apparently obscured some imperfections of the model along the way. Two significant questions need to be answered if the model is to be reliably ap- plied to conservation biology planning. (1) Are the steps deterministic and inevitable or are they mutable tendencies? Because the major goal of conservation biology is to protect biological diversity while providing for sustainable human needs (Primack 2002), it often seeks to change the outcome of environmental, economic and socio- logical trends, such as those associated with extinction and habitat destruction. If the general patterns of the GCSPN model represent tenden- cies that lend themselves to peremptory changes, the model can be used to anticipate problems and implement useful changes to better meet the goals of conservation biology. On the other hand, if the general patterns of the GCSPN model represent inevitable results, the changes funda- mental to conservation biology goals are unlikely to be accomplished using these general steps of science development (Myers 1989; Eldredge 1998). (2) Is each step of the model dependent on the pre- vious step, and if so, how well-developed must a step be before the subsequent step can be initi- ated and developed? For instance, academic and government support for naming and revising taxa and basic studies of natural history has been in decline for decades and is unlikely to reverse course. As crisis managers, conservation biolo- gists are often forced to make studies on taxa, natural communities and habitats that have severely incomplete foundations of knowledge, such as taxonomy and natural history (Wilson 2000; Hopkins and Freckleton 2002; Dubois 2003; Giangrande 2003). In terms of the GCSPN, the temptation is to yield to the pressures of crisis management and justify a leap from Step 1 to Step 4 or 5 with, perhaps, insufficient investment in the intermediate and supportive steps. Such a problem evidently occurred with the devel- opment of the use of bioindicators in the 1980s and 1990s. Several conservation biologists urged that these surrogate taxa be chosen carefully with predetermined ideal characteristics for a particular use and habitat or ecosystem (Brown 1991; Pearson and Cassola 1992). Unfortunately, many subsequent articles advocating taxa as bioindicators ignored or failed to adequately justify the choice of bioindicators based on predeter- mined criteria such as reliable taxonomy and basic natural history knowledge. As a result, the credibility of these poorly qualified taxa was challenged, and support of the entire concept of bioindicators quickly diminished (Lawton et al. 1998; Schwartz 1999; Andelman and Fagan 2000; Dale and Beyler 2001). In the same vein, the U.S. federal Endangered Species Act (ESA) was authorized in 1973. During its tenure, it has engendered considerable controversy, and its future is uncertain (Czech and Krausman 2001). Although property rights, conflicting economic inter- ests, and politics have contributed to many of the controversies, testimony to U.S. congressional com- mittees (Legislative Hearing on H.R. 2829 and H. R. 3705, 20 March 2002) by both conservation advocates and the Assistant Secretary for Fish and Wildlife and Parks place much of the blame for shortcomings of the ESA on poor scientific standards and lack of adequate independent scientific review of endangered species listings. For instance, in one official list of 36 species planned to be delisted in 1999 by then Secretary of the Interior, Bruce Babbitt, five species were already extinct by that time, four were based on taxonomic errors, and ten had been originally listed because of data errors. In this case 53% of these species should not have been on the endangered list in the first place, and a lack of scientific information was to blame (B. Babbitt, pers. com.). A powerful and sophisticated legislative policy assumed that conservation biology was at Step 4 or 5 in the GCSPN, even though Steps 1 and 2 were not sufficiently established to support an advance on to subsequent steps. What uses does the GCSPN provide for identifying and attaining conservation biology goals? One important role of the application of the GCSPN model to conservation biology is in providing a context so that we can focus on pertinent questions. At what points should funding agencies support specific efforts? Are there better periods than others in which to attract young recruits to maintain or increase interest in spe- cific taxa or fields such as conservation biology? Can or should dominance by a single individual or small clique be avoided? Will professional biologists exclude the expert amateurs, or will they be able to cooperate? A second use of the GSCPN is in recognizing broader philosophical problems. For instance, histori- ans of science have shown how cultural differences within national or between regional organizations 54 J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 123 often dampen paradigm changes in the general area of study (Browne 1996). Can our model illuminate factors such as this and thus avoid intellectual imperialism? Can ideas and hypotheses spread quickly throughout the network, or will resistance to change and other barriers make communication ponderous? Is there a Step 7 in our GCSPN model? Finally, these preliminary results from comparisons of tiger beetles and conservation biology highlight some specific actions that can be taken immediately. For instance in the area of communication between technical and popular audiences, a basic conservation biology goal, should or can we avoid or ameliorate Step 6? (1) Three simple changes in writing style and edito- rial format could make communication easier across a spectrum of readers. First, the abstract and summary of an article can be written in a style that simplifies complex concepts for non-profes- sionals (Gopen and Swan 1990; Knight 2003). Second, for many non-scientific readers, citations in parentheses may become a barrier that disrupts comprehension, a possibility rarely addressed or tested by scientific authors (Rudolph 2003). Using less obtrusive superscript numbers to key cita- tions is one simple change that might broaden communication. This format is already used in several prestigious journals, such as Science, Nature and Trends in Ecology and Evolution. Third, even though metaphors are central to how we think about things, especially when explaining complex concepts to the uninitiated (Short 2000), the editors of some journals, such as Conservation Biology, explicitly discourage authors from using metaphors. Encouraging the use of suitable met- aphors to enhance communication might prove more appropriate (Chew and Laubichler 2003). (2) Although administrators and professional col- leagues may demand publications in peer- reviewed journals for promotion and tenure, less prestigious methods for communicating results to the public, such as newspaper and magazine articles, books, and web sites, must receive more than a tacit blessing. (3) Even though most professional conservation biologists lack the talent or time to communicate with the public as well as Rachel Carson, Jared Diamond, Aldo Leopold, or E.O. Wilson, there are talented science writers, such as David Qua- men, Jonathan Weiner and Peter Matthiessen, who can make complex scientific writing com- prehensible and attractive to a wide range of the public who have little or no science background. Cooperating with these types of writers, even though credit may be diluted, could disseminate critical information effectively to a wider audi- ence. (4) Descriptions of new species of tiger beetles, nat- ural history observations, geographical distribu- tions, and seasonal records of occurrence and dispersion, as in many taxa, have by default been turned over largely to expert amateurs. However, not all professionals accept the resultant data as reliable. Recently the British social critics, Charles Leadbeater and Paul Miller (2004), identified a rapidly-growing involvement of ama- teurs in science from astronomy to medicine that is not fully recognized or utilized. These investi- gators are a new breed of largely self-trained experts or professional amateurs (Pro-Ams) who, using modern technology, such as the Internet, are producing significant innovations and discov- eries in a wide range of fields. Both the govern- ment and professionals need to facilitate the contributions of Pro-Ams and be prepared to share the stage with them. Conclusions As is typical of model-testing, results often reveal exceptions, unforeseen data, and other anomalies. One accepted procedure in the face of such problems, is to incorporate these unexpected results into a more gen- eralized and useful model. From results of our pre- liminary consilience tests of the GCSPN, several changes are evident that would make the model more useful. For instance, the history of tiger beetles shows that productive researchers can be working simulta- neously in several if not all the steps, especially at later times in the history of a scientific field. Thus it might be more accurate to consider the steps as benchmarks in a continuum rather than linear chronological progres- sions or irreversible advances. Also, even within well- defined taxa, amateur and professional lines of change appear to diverge into parallel lines rather than follow a single evolving line of science used in the original model (Battalio 1998) (Fig. 1). These parallel lines often have cross lines of influence and varying levels of communication. The different lines each may have their own characteristic benchmarks (Fig. 3). It is also obvious that broader fields, such as conservation biol- ogy, build on the work of contributing areas of interest and incorporate their histories rather than follow an independent disciplinary track. Thus, in these suc- J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 55 123 ceeding fields, the velocity of change along the time continuum could be expected to be faster and with entire groups of lines converging. To better understand the model, future tests are needed to clarify not only its patterns but the causes of the patterns. Consilience comparisons of the history of additional taxa or disciplines are one obvious approach. Do all taxa and fields follow the same sequence of steps? Do some histories reveal accelerated progress through certain steps and not others? Accumulated similarities and differences among these histories will provide opportunities to look for their causes. Do factors such as species numbers, their conspicuousness, economic importance, number of investigators, and level of re- search funding influence patterns and advances in the progression of steps within a field? With an under- standing of various combinations of characteristics that might cause differences in development or speed of change, we would be in a better position to understand and apply the model. Among insects, taxa such as ants, cerambycid beetles, scarab beetles, butterflies, dragon- flies, and termites would be good candidates for test organisms (New 1984; 1991; 1998; Gaston et al. 1993; Samways 1994; 2005). Comparisons of the history of fields such as wildlife biology, population genetics, and landscape ecology could also be enlightening. With some immediate solutions and the promise of even more important long range solutions made possi- ble by examinations of historical models, such as the GCSPN, we can be encouraged that conservation biology can make use of its history and learn from it. For instance, Leadbeater and Miller’s thesis indicates that with conscious effort the diverging model in Fig. 3 might morph eventually into a model with converging lines, at least between amateurs and early steps in the professional progression of changes. With improve- ments in the model and future tests of the process of science itself, we may have the best chance to develop foresight, learn from history, and better know if and what changes can be made to better reach our goals. We need not be doomed to repeat history, and even more positively, it may well be that, ‘‘We know the future only by the past we project into it’’ (Gaddis 2004). Acknowledgements We are indebted to J. Alcock, K.R. John- son, C.B. 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Cons Biol 14:1–3 Yarbrough WW, Knisley CB (1994) Distribution and abundance of the coastal tiger beetle, Cicindela dorsalis media (Cole- optera: Cicindelidae), in South Carolina. Ent News 105: 189–194 Zirnstein G (1996) Ökologie und Umwelt in der Geschichte. Ökologie und Wirtschaftforschung, Band 14. Metropolis- Verlag, Marburg, Germany J Insect Conserv (2007) 11:47–59 59 123 Are we doomed to repeat history? A model of the past using tiger beetles \(Coleoptera: Cicindelidae\) and conservation biology to anticipate the future Abstract Introduction Methods The historical model Test subjects Fig1 Results Step 1: Descriptive natural history and search for new species predominate Step 2: Now an experimental science rather than a natural history model Fig2 Step 3: Power is transferred from expert amateurs to trained professional scientists, and graduate training for employment in the field has become available Step 4: Systematics no longer dominant, and research focused more on theoretically complex issues with extensive use of graphs and statistical inference in publications Step 5: Formation of research teams and increasing evidence of socialization, such as use of acknowledgments sections, associations of peers, and co-authored publications Step 6: Technical terminology and methodology so refined they now limit the audience that can fully comprehend it Discussion Do the histories of tiger beetle studies and conservation biology follow the model? What uses does the GCSPN provide for identifying and attaining conservation biology goals? Conclusions Acknowledgements References CR1 CR2 CR3 CR4 CR5 CR6 CR7 CR8 CR9 CR10 CR11 CR12 CR13 Fig3 CR14 CR15 CR16 CR17 CR18 CR19 CR20 CR21 CR22 CR23 CR24 CR25 CR26 CR27 CR28 CR29 CR30 CR31 CR32 CR33 CR34 CR35 CR36 CR37 CR38 CR39 CR40 CR41 CR42 CR43 CR44 CR45 CR46 CR47 CR48 CR49 CR50 CR51 CR52 CR53 CR54 CR55 CR56 CR57 CR58 CR59 CR60 CR61 CR62 CR63 CR64 CR65 CR66 CR67 CR68 CR69 CR70 CR71 CR72 CR73 CR74 CR75 CR76 CR77 CR78 CR79 CR80 CR81 CR82 CR83 CR84 CR85 CR86 CR87 CR88 CR89 CR90 CR91 CR92 CR93 CR94 CR95 CR96 CR97 CR98 CR99 CR100 CR101 CR102 CR103 CR104 CR105 CR106 CR107 CR108 CR109 CR110 CR111 CR112 CR113 CR114 CR115 CR116 CR117 CR118 CR119 CR120 CR121 CR122 CR123 CR124 CR125 CR126 CR127 CR128 CR129 CR130 CR131 CR132 CR133 CR134 CR135 CR136 CR137 CR138 << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /None /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (None) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (ISO Coated) /sRGBProfile (sRGB 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work_k2mb6yc3zzaj7d2afarq4uleta	----	ROP volume 65 issue 4 Cover and Back matter Bringing Representation Home State Legislators among Their Constituencies Michael A. Smith Michael A. Smith focuses on what representation is in practice, not what it is in theory. Over the course of two legislative sessions, Smith interviewed and observed twelve state representatives in an effort to better understand and define their approaches to representation. 240 pages, $34.95 Eros, Wisdom, and Silence Plato's Erotic Dialogues James M. Rhodes "Once in a while one comes across a work that strikes one as the defini- tive word on the texts it examines. This is such a work."—David Walsh 592 pages, $49.95 Giving Voters a Voice The Origins of the Initiative and Referendum in America Steven L Piott Giving Voters a Voice studies the origins of direct legislation, one of the most important political reforms enacted during the Progressive Era. 344 pages, $39.95 Transcendence and History The Search for Ultimacy from Ancient Societies to Postmodernity Glenn Hughes In Transcendence and History, Glenn Hughes contributes to the under- standing of transcendent meaning and the problems associated with it and assists in the philosophical recovery of the legitimacy of the notion of transcendence. 264 pages, $34.95 The Collected Works ofErkVoegelin Volume 31 Hitler and the Germans Eric Voegelin Translated, Edited, and with an Introduction by Detlev Clemens and Brendan Purcell "[In Hitler and the Germans] the reader feels the academic hall come to life with Voegelin's eloquence and the profundity of his mind. Voegelin speaks with passion and deadly irony. . . . [He] has brilliantly illuminated the depths and meaning of that ideology and tyranny for our abiding benefit in thought and action."—Perspectives on Political Science 296 pages, $15.95 paper U N I V l i R S I T Y OF .\! -800-S28-189-1 www.svs h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms The Cloaking of Power Montesquieu, Blackstone, and the Rise of Judicial Activism Paul 0. Carrese "It is rare and praiseworthy when a book shows some- thing new about a great author and about the ideas we live by. Original for its energy, pertinence, and intelligence, Paul Carrese's The Cloaking of Power will be an important book on Montesquieu and on Montesquieu's Anglo-American legacy. Everyone sees the importance of the judiciary for Montesquieu, but no one has put the point in focus and developed it as has Carrese. This will be an interpretation with which everyone will now have to contend." Harvey Mansfield, Harvard University "A masterwork of intellectual and political history." Albert W. Alschuler, University of Chicago Law School Cloth $39.00 The University of Chicago Press • 1427 East 60th Street, Chicago, IL 60637 • www.press.uchicago.edu New Prom Transaction Publishers HABITS OF MIND William B. Allen Curol M. Allan Habits of Mind Fostering Access and Excellence in Higher Education William B. Allen and Carol M. Alien ISBN: 0-7658-0184-1 (cloth) 2003 292 pp. $34.95 / £29.95 In this book the authors assert that in the twenty-first century the college diploma has rightly become what the high school diploma was in the twentieth century—the norm. Predicting a world in which everyone goes to college, they argue that access of this magnitude need not be achieved at the cost of diminished excellence. 888-999-6 35 Berrue Circle Piscataway, NJ 08854-8042 www.transactionpub.com h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms THE REVIEW OF POLITICS Volume 65 2003 Editor: Walter Nicgorski Managing Editor: Dennis Wm Moran Book Review Editor: Peter R. Moody Assistant Book Review Editor: James Paul Old Opinions expressed in the articles printed in The Review of Politics are those of the authors alone and are not necessarily opinions held by the editors. Subscriptions: Institutional, $56.00 per year in the United States (Individual, $27.00); foreign, $61.00 (Individual, $32.00); single copies, $14.00 (domestic) and $15.50 (foreign). Entered as second-class matter, April 1,1939, at the Post Office at Notre Dame, Indiana, under the act of March 3,1879. PUBLISHED BY THE UNIVERSITY OF NOTRE DAME NOTRE DAME, INDIANA 46556 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Index of Articles, 2003 David Clinton, "Dash and Doubt": Walter Bagehot and International Restraint 89 Edward Cuddy, Vietnam: Mr. Johnson's War—Or Mr. Eisenhower's? 4:351 Jean Bethke Elshtain, Coming to Terms with Slavery: David Brion Davis Sums Up (Review Essay) 4:417 Michael P. Foley, The Other Happy Life: The Political Dimensions to St. Augustine's Cassiciacum Dialogues 165 Russel Arben Fox, /. G. Herder on Language and the Metaphysics of National Community 237 Jurgen Gebhardt, On the Critical Understanding of Politics: Voegelin on Austria, Hitler, and the Germans (Review Essay) 263 Leigh Kathryn Jenco, Thoreau's Critique of Democracy 3:355 Douglas Kries, On the Intention of Cicero's De Officiis 4:375 Alan Milchman, Martin Heidegger and the Political: New Fronts in the Heidegger Wars (Review Essay) 3:439 Gerson Moreno-Riano, The Roots of Tolerance (Review Essay) I l l Cary J. Nederman, Community and Self-Interest: Marsiglio of Padua on Civil Life and Private Advantage 4:395 Johnathan O'Neill, Shaping Modern Constitutional Theory: Bickel and Bork Confront the WarrenCourt 3:325 Haig Patapan, J Capitoli: Machiavelli's New Theogony 185 Vincent Phillip Munoz, George Washington on Religious Liberty 11 Daniel Pellerin, Calvin: Militant or Man of Peace? 35 Alan Rosenberg, Martin Heidegger and the Political: New Fronts in the Heidegger Wars (Review Essay) 3:439 Jeffrey A. Smith, Nationalism, Virtue, and the Spirit of Liberty in Rousseau's Government of Poland 3:409 Robert S. Snyder, Hating America: Bin Laden as a Civilizational Revolutionary 4:325 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Kim Sorensen, Revelation and Reason in Leo Strauss 3:383 Heidi D. Studer, "Strange Fire at the Altar of the Lord": Francis Bacon on Human Nature 209 Aristide Tessitore, Justice, Politics, and Piety in Sophocles' Philoctetes 61 Kenneth D. Ward: The Politics of Disagreement: Recent Work in Constitutional Theory (Review Essay) 4:425 Paul Weithman, John Rawls: A Remembrance 5 Index of Book Reviews, 2003 Ai Camp, Roderic Mexico's Mandarins: Crafting a Power Elite for the Twenty-First Century (Mark Eric Williams) 3:482 Anderson, Charles W., A Deeper Freedom: Liberal Democracy as an Everyday Morality (Richard Dagger) 137 Arkes, Hadley, Natural Rights and the Right to Choose (Russell Hittinger).... 4:441 Bass, Amy, Not the Triumph but the Struggle: The 1968 Olympics and the Making of the Black Athlete (Paul V. Murphy) 4:455 Beissinger, Mark R., Nationalist Mobilization and the Collapse of the Soviet State (Mark A. Jubulis) 3:473 Belknap, Michal R., The Vietnam War on Trial (Michael F. Noone) 3:478 Berkove, Lawrence I., A Prescription for Adversity: The Moral Art of Ambrose Bierce (David M. Owens and Sandra L. Visser) 314 Bonnicksen, Andrea L., Crafting a Cloning Policy: From Dolly to Stem Cells (Clarke E. Cochran) 311 Braybrooke, David, Natural Law Modernized (William A. Barbieri, Jr.) 140 Brown, Stephen P., Trumping Religion: The New Christian Right, the Free Speech Clause, and the Courts (Kevin R. den Dulk) 4:443 Bukovansky, Mlada, Legitimacy and Power Politics: The American and French Revolutions in International Poltical Culture (Duncan S. A. Bell) 3:476 Byrd Jr., James P., The Challenges of Roger Williams (James Paul Old) 3:456 3 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Byrnes, Timothy A., Transnational Catholicism in Postcommunist Europe (Jeffrey Wills) 144 Cooke, Brett, Human Nature in Utopia: Zamyatin's We (Thomas Gaiton Marullo) 3:466 Corrin, Jay P., Catholic Intellectuals and the Challenge of Democracy (Joseph Pearce) 292 Curran, Charles E., Catholic Social Teaching 1891-Present (Thomas Massaro) 142 Dahl, Robert A., How Democratic Is the American Constitution (Alan Gibson) 131 Digh, Ranjit, The Historian's Wizard ofOz: Reading L. Frank Baum's Classic as a Political and Monetary Allegory (J. Jackson Barlow) 4:475 Dreisbach, Daniel L., Thomas Jefferson and the Wall of Separation Between Church and State (Daniel J. McCarthy) 3:458 Field, Peter S., Ralph Waldo Emerson: The Making of a Democratic Intellectual (Steven G. Affeldt) 4:450 Guinier, Lani, The Miner's Canary: Enlisting Race, Resisting Power, Transforming Democracy (Lawrie Balfour) 307 Hankins, Barry Uneasy in Babylon: Southern Baptists and American Culture (James Paul Old) 296 Hill, Harvey, The Politics of Modernism: Alfred Loisy and the Scientific Study of Religion (Paul Misner) 294 Hitchens, Christopher, Why Orwell Matters (Dennis Wm Moran) 3:471 James, Harold, The End of Globalization (Layna Mosley) 300 Jehle, Frank, Ever against the Stream: The Politics of Karl Barth, 1906-1969 (John D. Godsey) 3:453 Josephson, Peter, The Great Art of Government: Locke's Use of Consent (Sean D. Sutton) 135 Kaczor, Christopher, Proportionalism and the Natural Law Tradition (Aline H. Kalbian) 3:462 Kang, David C , Crony Capitalism: Corruption and Development in South Korea and the Philippines (John Sidel) 3:480 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Klosko, George, Jacobins and Utopians: The Political Theory of Fundamental Moral Reform (Shaun P. Young) 4:457 Kochin, Michael S., Gender and Rhetoric in Plato's Political Thought (Laurie M. Johnson Bagby) 3:464 Kohler, Joachin, Zarathustra's Secret (Michael W. Grenke) 152 Krause, Sharon R., Liberalism With Honor (Richard J. Dougherty) 3:460 Lawler, Peter Augustine Aliens in America: The Strange Truth About Our Souls (J. Budziszewski) 4:471 Little, Douglas American Orientalism: The United States and the Middle East Since 1945 (Kimberly Katz) 4:463 Mamdani, Mahmood When Victims Become Killers: Colonialism, Nativism, and the Genocide in Rwanda (Ian S. Spears) 4:462 Mayhew, David R., Electoral Realignments: A Critique of an American Genre (John Kenneth White) 4:469 McBratney, John, Imperial Subjects, Imperial Space: Rudyard Kipling's Fiction of the Native-Born (Leah Bradshaw) 3:468 Mershon, Carol, The Costs of Coalition (Paul V. Warwick) 286 Naddaff, Ramona A., Exiling the Poets: The Production of Censorship in Plato's Republic (Christopher Colmo) 4:460 Newsinger, John, Orwell's Politics (Dennis Wm Moran) 3:471 Offner, Arnold, Another Such Victory: President Truman and the Cold War, 1945-1953 (Wilson D. Miscamble, C.S.C.) 304 Price, Daniel J., Karl Barth's Anthropology in Light of Modern Thought (Randall C. Zachman) 4:447 Raeder, Linda C , John Stuart Mill and the Religion of Humanity (Wendy Dormer) 3:451 Rogers, Katharine M., L. Frank Baum: Creator ofOz (J. Jackson Barlow) 4:475 Sanchez, Jose M., Pius XII and the Holocaust: Understanding the Contrversy (Beth A. Griech-Polelle) 146 Schaberg, David, A Patterned Past: Form and Thought in Early Chinese Historiography (Karen Turner) 302 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms Schatzberg, Michael G., Political Legitimacy in Middle Africa: Father, Family, Food (Sharon R. Murphy) 157 Schlueter, Nathan W., One Dream or Two?: Justice in America and in the Thought of Martin Luther King Jr. (Geoffrey C. Bowden) 4:452 Scotchie, Joseph Revolt From the Heartland: The Struggle for an Authentic Conservatism (Kevin Smant) 4:473 Scott-Smith, Giles, The Politics of Apolitical Culture: The Congress for Cultural Freedom (Michael Henry) 154 Segal, Erich, The Death of Comedy (Catherine Connors) 3:484 Senghaas, Dieter, The Clash Within Civilizations: Coming to Terms with Cultural Conflicts (Jeff Spinner-Halev) 298 Siemer, David }., Ratifying the Republic: Antifederalists and Federalists in Constitutional Time (Christopher M. Duncan) 281 Sunstein, Cass, Designing Democracy: What Constitutions Do (Lief H. Carter) 279 Swain, Carol M., The New White Nationalismin America: Its Challenge to Integration (Peter Meilaender) 309 Torres, Gerald, The Miner's Canary: Enlisting Race, Resisting Power, Transforming Democracy (Lawrie Balfour) 307 Tuckness, Alex, Locke and the Legislative Point of View: Toleration, Contested Principles, and the Law (Andrew Murphy) 283 Urbinati, Nadia, Mill on Democracy: From the Athenian Polis to Representative Government (Andrew Vails) 288 Varouxakis, Georgios, Mill on Nationality (Wendy Dormer) 290 Weitz, Mark A., Clergy Malpractice in America: Nally v. Grace Community Church of the Valley (George Thomas) 150 Werpehowski,William American Protestant Ethics and the Legacy ofH. Richard Niebuhr (Alain Epp Weaver) 4:445 Zehfuss, Maja Constructivism in International Relations: The Politics of Reality (Keir A. Lieber) 4:466 6 h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms New and Forthcoming Books from St. Augustine's Press iRemi Brague, Eccentric Culture: A Theory \of Western Civilization I "[A] cultural event of the first importance. . . . It is hard to do ijustice to the richness of Eccentric Culture, to the sparks of I observation and opinion that Brague throws off as he forges I his new reading of the Western past." - Weekly Standard % I " . . . richly insightful essay on Western Europe's essentially 1 Roman identity." - First Things f 212 pp., clothbound, $28.00 George J. Marlin, Fighting the Good Fight: A History of the New York Conservative Party Eccentric Culture A Theory of Western Civilization R&ni Blague "George Marlin has filled a gaping hole on the bookshelf of American political history with his history of New York's Conservative Party from its founding in 1962 to 2002." - Michael Barone 434 pp., clothbound, $28.00 It's time you heard about us. Visit us on our website: staugustine.net. Forthcoming in the Spring Friedrich Nietzsche (Michael Grenke, trans.), On the Future of Our Educational Institutions Bernard O'Connor, Papal Diplomacy: John Paul II and the Culture of Peace Leszek Kolakowski, My Correct Views on Everything ! Otto and Katharine Bird: From Witchery to Sanctity: The Religious Vicissitudes of the Hawthornes E. 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C ar n eg ie M el lo n U n iv er si ty , o n 0 6 A p r 20 21 a t 00 :5 9: 16 , s u b je ct t o t h e C am b ri d g e C o re t er m s o f u se , a va ila b le a t h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re /t er m s. https://doi.org/10.1017/S003467050003905X https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms In Forthcoming Issues Roy T. Tsao on Arendt, the Modern State and Hegelian Variations in The Origins of Totalitarianism Simon Stacey on a Lockean Approach to Transitional Justice PAIK Wooyeal and Daniel Bell on Citizenship and Physical Education in Ancient Greece and Ancient China h tt p s: // d o i.o rg /1 0. 10 17 /S 00 34 67 05 00 03 90 5X D o w n lo ad ed f ro m h tt p s: // w w w .c am b ri d g e. o rg /c o re . 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work_k33qveilxng3fjxaeomiltgxdi	----	_________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR =DPERDQJD�6WDWH�&ROOHJH�RI�0DULQH�6FLHQFHV�DQG�7HFKQRORJ\��WKH�3KLOLSSLQHV Ateneo de Zamboanga University, the Philippines decastro@zscmst.edu.ph, aqohsidyep812@gmail.com Abstract English preposition is one of the hardest features to learn and master, especially by ‘nonnative’ speakers of the English language; hence, several Filipinos tend to interchange particle/preposition in phrasal verbs (PhVs) (e.g., ¿OO�XS�and ¿OO�RXW). As such, this study aimed to compare the semantic features and idiomatic status of selected same-verb different-particle PhVs, and describe their syntactic features utilizing the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (ICE- PHI) and the Global Web-based English Corpus (GloWbE) Philippines. This study revealed evidence that clearly shows the interchange of particle/preposition for the same verb. A new meaning has been found for two PhVs. Most of the PhVs follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern, while others follow the type 1 (intransitive) pattern. They generally occur in the medial position, rarely in the beginning position, and YHU\�UDUHO\�LQ�WKH�¿QDO�SRVLWLRQ��7KH�VWXG\�VXJJHVWV�WKDW�GHVSLWH�WKH�LQWHUFKDQJH�� Filipinos generally follow the American English (AmE) usage of PhVs. Also, GHVSLWH� WKH�IDFW� WKDW�3K9�LV�QRW�DQ�LQKHUHQW�FKDUDFWHULVWLF� LQ� WKH�¿UVW� ODQJXDJH�� )LOLSLQRV�VWLOO�VKRZ�DGHTXDWH�NQRZOHGJH�DQG�SUR¿FLHQF\�LQ�WKH�XVH�RI�3K9V�LQ� their utterances. The interchange of particle/preposition may be considered as an emerging feature of Philippine English (PhE). Keywords: Language variation, Philippine English, phrasal verbs, semantics 1. Introduction Since the emergence of the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (ICE-PHI) compiled by Bautista et al. (2004), and years before it was compiled, it can still be considered that relatively few studies have explored Philippine English (PhE) (e.g., Bautista, 2011; Biermeier, 2011; Borlongan, 2011; Collins, 2011; Coronel, 2011; David, 2019; Dita, 2011; Ella & Dita, 2017; Friginal, 2011; Gonzalez, 1996; Hundt, 2011; Llamzon, 1997; Munalim, 2019; Pauwels & Winter, 2011; Schneider, 2011), considering that PhE is so vast and has subvarieties (see Gonzales, 2017), although some claim (e.g., Paz, 2020) that studies in 3K(�DUH�TXLWH�H[WHQVLYH�DOUHDG\��%HVLGHV��3K(�FDQ�VWLOO�EH�FRQVLGHUHG�D�QHZ�¿HOG�LQ�WKH�VWXGLHV� of varieties of the English language. In these studies, pieces of evidence emerged that clearly show how English in the Philippines is unique and different, but mutually intelligible, from _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 222 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ other varieties. These variations may have been brought about by the country’s architecture of conventions of native languages, sociolinguistic variables, and other extralinguistic factors. It is also evident that some aspects of English in the Philippines are no longer the same as the AmE. Deviations from the so-called ‘standard,’ although there is no such thing as that as far as descriptive linguistics and World Englishes are concerned, are considered a language drift or a case of indigenization where an English variety has particular linguistic features, which are very unlike the AmE or British English (BrE) varieties (Malicsi, 2007). It is for this reason that the question “When does an error become a feature of PhE?” had been a subject of debates. Gonzalez (1983) answered this question arguing that errors become features when educated elites in society commit them. In effect, these errors, when diffused (Malicsi, 2007), will eventually be accepted by society as the ‘standard.’ Llamzon (1969) referred to this kind of English as “the type of English which educated Filipinos speak and which is acceptable in educated Filipino circles” (p. 15). This view is seen to be one of the major inadequacies in the study of PhE as it is generally reserved only to the educated few, disregarding the “class-based, regionally-marked, and other potentially differentiating varieties” of PhE (Paz, 2020, p. 49) and misrepresenting the true identity of PhE as a whole. To acknowledge other VXEVWUDWH�LQÀXHQFHG� YDULHWLHV� DQG� PDNH� 3K(� LQFOXVLYH�� *RQ]DOHV� ������� DUJXHV� WKDW� WKH� notion ‘Philippine Englishes’ should be adopted by scholars, invalidating the ‘standard’ PhE previously described by some Filipino scholars. Scholars have different views on the status of PhE in reference to Schneider’s (2003) dynamic model. Schneider (2003) located PhE in the nativization stage where it is fossilized. Martin (2014) supported this claim and debunked the concept that PhE is already at the endonormative stabilization stage citing that PhE is disregarded by Filipinos as an identity carrier by still choosing Anglo-American literature such as the works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, and Washington Irving instead of those Philippine in origin, a case that is unlike the Singapore English. Borlongan (2016), however, debunked Martin’s (2014) claim and argued that PhE has already met the criteria of the endonormative VWDELOL]DWLRQ�VWDJH�LQ�WKDW�HYHQW�;��ZKLFK�LV�WKH�YHU\�VSHFL¿F�HYHQW�WKDW�WUDQVLWLRQV�DQ�(QJOLVK� using state or territory from phase 3 to phase 4 (see Schneider, 2007), has already taken place in the development of PhE. Gonzales (2017) showed evidence that PhE is at the dawn of differentiation stage on the basis of the birth of other PhE dialects and the construction of identities of communities, although some prerequisites were acknowledged to have not been met yet. In a more recent study, Tatel (2019) claimed that PhE is now entering the endonormative stabilization phase. The reason for this is the weakening of the complaint tradition or of widespread phenomenon where the public expresses its dismay in the apparent decline in the so-called language ‘standards.’ Nonetheless, PhE is recognized as a legitimate nativized variety of English (Bautista & Bolton, 2009; Borlongan, 2016; Gonzales, 2017; 0DOLFVL��������6FKQHLGHU��������������EHORQJLQJ�WR�WKH�RXWHU�FLUFOH�LQ�.DFKUX¶V�������������� 1990, 1992) concentric circle model and has different lexical, phonological, and grammatical features that are uniquely Filipino (Dita & Borlongan, 2020). In line with the present study, it has been observed that two different particles/ prepositions are used interchangeably for the same verb in the PhV constructions, but they refer to or convey the same meaning. These include make up of and make out of, come up ZLWK�and�FRPH�RXW�ZLWK, FRPSDUH�ZLWK�and compare to,�¿OO�XS�and ¿OO�RXW, connect to and _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 223 _________________________________________________________________________________ FRQQHFW�ZLWK, base on and base from, set up and set out,�ZRUN�RQ�and�ZRUN�RXW, hand in and hand over, end up and�HQG�ZLWK,�DVVRFLDWH�ZLWK and associate to, among others. Having observed these differences and the interchange of particles/prepositions for the same verb in the PhV constructions among Filipino speakers who naturally utter them, this study was formulated. Thus, the main aim of this study was to investigate the semantic and syntactic features of binary PhVs utilizing two large corpora of English in the Philippines. 1.1 Theoretical Framework Multi-word verbs (MWVs) are a combination of a verb and one or two particles or prepositions �4XLUN�HW�DO����������0:9V�DUH�FODVVL¿HG�LQWR�WKUHH�W\SHV��SKUDVDO�YHUEV��3K9V���SUHSRVLWLRQDO� verbs (PVs), and phrasal-prepositional verbs (PPVs). PhVs are multi-word units that consist of a verb followed by an adverbial particle, which have core spatial or locative meanings but generally used with extended meanings (e.g., carry out). PVs consist of a verb and a preposition (e.g., talk about). PPVs consist of both an adverbial particle and a preposition (e.g., FRPH�XS�ZLWK) (see Biber et al., 1999). In some cases, a PhV is used to refer to all three types of MWVs; hence, it is a multi-word unit consisting of a verb followed by a particle or a preposition. According to Cambridge Dictionary (2018), the most common particles used to form PhVs are around, at,�DZD\,�GRZQ, in, off, on, out, round, and up. PhVs consist of a verb and a particle (e.g., drop out, end up, live out,�SXW�GRZQ, etc.). There are two types of PhVs in terms of syntactic feature: type 1 (intransitive) and type 2 (transitive). Intransitive PhVs consist of a verb, and an adverb particle, which functions like a predication adjunct and is usually inseparable from its lexical verb. These are also considered as idiomatic and cohesive. Examples are cited below. 1. Elena has been dropped out. 2. I did my best, but I ended up unsatisfactory. Transitive PhVs, on the other hand, take a direct object, which can either be preceded or followed by a particle. This means that a phrasal verb may be split to insert in between the direct object. Examples are cited below. 3. Thank you for bringing that (matter) up. 4. Thank you for bringing up that matter. In terms of semantic features, meanings of MWVs can be determined in replacement by a single-word verb, e.g., request for appeal to, meet for bump into, HWF���4XLUN�HW�DO��� �������0:9V�DUH�FODVVL¿HG�LQWR�WKUHH�FDWHJRULHV��QRQ�LGLRPDWLF��VHPL�LGLRPDWLF��DQG�KLJKO\� idiomatic constructions. Non-idiomatic constructions are MWVs “where individual meanings of the components are apparent from their constancy in possible substitutions,” e.g., take out, bring in,�UXQ�GRZQ, HWF���4XLUN�HW�DO���������S���������6HPL�LGLRPDWLF�FRQVWUXFWLRQV�DUH� MWVs where “the relation between the verb and particle is similar to that between a stem RI�DQ�DI¿[�LQ�ZRUG�IRUPDWLRQ��LQ�WKDW�WKH�VXEVWLWXWLRQ�RI�RQH�YHUE�IRU�DQRWKHU��RU�RQH�SDUWLFOH� _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 224 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ for another, is constrained by limited productivity,” e.g., ¿QG�RXW�for discover, cut up for cut into pieces��HWF���4XLUN�HW�DO���������S��������������+LJKO\�LGLRPDWLF�FRQVWUXFWLRQV�DUH� “thoroughly idiomatic in that there is no possibility of contrastive substitution,” e.g., hang on for ZDLW�or hold tightly,�SDVV�DZD\�for die �4XLUN�HW�DO���������S�������. However, it is imperative to note that the difference in the use of particles or prepositions for the same verb in PhV constructions may be attributed to conformance to either AmE or BrE. For instance, the particles ZLWK�and to are used interchangeably for the verb compare when estimating the similarity or difference between things. When the PhV is in the intransitive form, the former particle is preferred in BrE, while the latter is slightly more frequent in AmE. However, in some cases, to is obligatory when used to make an analogy between two different things or to say that one thing resembles another (Oxford Dictionaries, 2018). The difference may also be attributed to deviations from these varieties, forming a feature uniquely of its own. For example, the particle out in the PhV ¿OO�RXW�is commonly interchanged with up, especially when the PhV is used for the word form (e.g., ¿OO�XS�WKH�IRUP���'HYLDWLRQV�RU�GLIIHUHQFHV�PD\�UHVXOW�IURP�LQVXI¿FLHQW�NQRZOHGJH�RI�RU� UHODWLYHO\�ORZ�SUR¿FLHQF\�LQ�XVLQJ�WKH�VR�FDOOHG�VWDQGDUGL]HG�(QJOLVK�YDULHWLHV��H�J���$P(� or BrE), but such view is error-oriented, static, monocentric, and dichotomous. Anchored in .DFKUX¶V��������������������������FRQFHQWULF�FLUFOH�PRGHO��WKHVH�GLIIHUHQFHV�RU�GHYLDWLRQV� are already a process called norm-developing. It is therefore essential to be reoriented and to recognize the different contexts (i.e., sociolinguistic, functional, pragmatic, and attitudinal) that contribute to the emergence of new English varieties. 1.2 Studies on Phrasal Verbs ,QWHUHVWLQJO\��VWXGLHV�LQ�3K9V�KDYH�VKRZQ�VLJQL¿FDQW�DQG�QRWHZRUWK\�¿QGLQJV�WKDW�DUH�SLYRWDO� in understanding the different roles and meanings of PhVs. Various theoretical perspectives and approaches have also emerged relative to PhVs’ linguistic features including lexicon, syntax, and semantics. For instance, according to the principle of lexical integrity, “the syntax neither manipulates nor has access to the internal structure of words” (Anderson, 1992, p. 84). Hence, analyzing the morphological aspect of PhVs is a violation (Iacobini, 2009, p. 99). However, in the case of Italian PhVs, the formation of such constructions has been determined by lexicalization and grammaticalization. Evidence of correspondences between PhVs and clear morphological structures revealed an overlapping between the range RI�GLUHFWLRQDO�PHDQLQJV�FRQYH\HG�E\�SUH¿[HG�YHUEV�DQG�3K9V��,DFRELQL�������� Following the cognitive-linguistics-based methodology, Mahpeykar and Tyler (2015) analyzed the semantics of verbs and particles in four PhV constructions and revealed the compositional nature of PhVs that show multiple meanings. Through the interaction of polysemic networks of component verbs and particles, these meanings can be systematically accounted for. Dagut and Laufer (1985) endeavored to classify 15 PhVs into three types, i.e., literal, ¿JXUDWLYH��DQG�FRPSOHWLYH��ZKLFK�FDQ�EH�D�EDVLV�IRU�VWXG\LQJ�RWKHU�3K9V�RI�(QJOLVK�DQG�DQ\� other languages in various approaches, especially corpus-based. For example, in the study of Liao and Fukuya (2004), it was revealed that Chinese learners tended to produce literal PhVs WKDQ�¿JXUDWLYH�RQHV� _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 225 _________________________________________________________________________________ In line with the present study, Ella and Dita (2017) investigated MWVs in PhE, VSHFL¿FDOO\�339V�XVLQJ�,&(�3+,��DQG�IRFXVHG�RQ�WKH�V\QWDFWLF�DQG�VHPDQWLF�IHDWXUHV�RI�WKH� six most frequent PPVs in the said corpus, i.e., FRPH�XS�ZLWK, get out of,�ORRN�IRUZDUG�WR, come RXW�ZLWK, hold on to, and FDWFK�XS�ZLWK. Most of which are used in the active voice. The study revealed that the semantic features of the said PPVs conform to standard meanings from online dictionaries. Ella and Dita (2017) noted that Filipinos show minimal usage of PPVs and are conservative in using them in their utterances as ‘nonnative’ speakers of English, the fact that phrasal verbs do not exist in Filipino. As such, Filipinos tend to deviate from the so- called standardized usage of phrasal verbs and to form new, unique features. 1.3 The Study 7R� GDWH�� QR� VWXG\� LV� DYDLODEOH� \HW� UHODWLYH� WR� WKH� VHPDQWLFV� RI� 3K9V�� VSHFL¿FDOO\� 3K9V� whose particle/preposition is often interchanged. Hence, this study aimed to investigate the ELQDU\�SKUDVDO�YHUEV�LQ�3K(��7R�DFKLHYH�WKLV��WKH�VWXG\�VSHFL¿FDOO\�DLPHG�WR�����FRPSDUH�WKH� semantic features of the binary PhVs, (2) determine their idiomatic status, and (3) describe their syntactic features. 2. Method This study utilized descriptive quantitative and qualitative methods following the corpus linguistics approach to analyze, compare, and contrast same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs. A total of 44,356,871 tokens were utilized for the data: 1,106,778 from ICE-PHI compiled by Bautista et al. (2004), and 43,250,093 from GloWbE. The data are considered naturally occurring language. The ICE-PHI consists of nonprofessional writing, correspondence, academic and nonacademic writing, reportage, instructional writing, persuasive writing, creative writing, private and public dialogues, and scripted and unscripted monologues; while the GloWbE consists of informal blogs, online news, magazines, and company websites (Davies, 2015). The list of PhVs investigated was derived from the researcher’s observation of everyday interaction. The particles/prepositions of these PhVs were found to have been frequently interchanged by Filipino speakers; hence, these items were examined in the corpora. The PhVs included were: base from and base on,�FRPH�RXW�ZLWK�and�FRPH�XS�ZLWK, compare to and�FRPSDUH�ZLWK, connect to and�FRQQHFW�ZLWK,�¿OO�RXW�and�¿OO�XS, leave to and OHDYH�ZLWK, made out of and made up of, relate to and�UHODWH�ZLWK, and talk to and WDON�ZLWK� These PhVs were individually searched using AntConc 3.5.8 and GloWbE search system designed to provide frequency counts and concordance samples. The PhVs in the past tense (e.g., compared to), third-person singular (e.g., compares to) and plural (e.g., compare to), and progressive aspect (e.g., comparing to) were included in the search and analysis. For the quantitative part, each PhV was analyzed using the observed absolute frequency (OAF) to determine the number of occurrences in both corpora. For the semantic IHDWXUHV��HDFK�3K9�ZDV�DQDO\]HG�LQ�WHUPV�RI�WKHVH�FDWHJRULHV�IROORZLQJ�4XLUN�HW�DO�¶V�������� semantic criteria for idiomatic status: “non-idiomatic, semi-idiomatic and highly idiomatic” (p. 1162). The meanings of the PhVs were described according to how they were used in _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 226 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ context. The Merriam-Webster Dictionary (2018) was consulted for the single-word meaning of each of the PhVs. Then the binary PhVs were compared in terms of meaning. For the syntactic features, each PhV was analyzed in terms of concord, transitivity and intransitivity, and separability and inseparability. 3. Results and Discussion The data in Table 1 show that same-verb different-particle PhVs were explicitly used in both corpora with GloWbE containing a higher number of occurrences for all PhVs as compared with ICE-PHI. This is possibly because the number of tokens in the former is greater than the latter. Nevertheless, an interchange of particles for the same verb is prevalent in PhE. Table 1 2EVHUYHG�DEVROXWH� IUHTXHQF\��DQG�V\QWDFWLF�DQG�VHPDQWLF� IHDWXUHV�RI�SKUDVDO�YHUEV� LQ� Philippine English Phrasal Verb ICE- PHI GloWbE Total Syntactic Feature Semantic Feature Idiomatic Status OAF OAF base from 6 119 125 T2 - To use particular ideas or facts to make a decision Semi- idiomatic base on 223 7623 7846 T2 come out with 23 346 369 T1 - To produce, create, devise, or think up Highly Idiomatic come up with 75 2151 2226 T1 - To produce, create, devise, or think up compare to 112 3783 3895 T2 - To equate or differentiate between things Non- idiomatic compare with 48 1097 1145 T2 connect to 26 1621 1647 T2 - To join two things together or to relate one thing with another Non- idiomatic connect with 17 1301 1318 T2 ¿OO�RXW 9 381 390 T2 - To complete a form or application Semi- idiomatic ¿OO�XS 13 679 692 T2 - To make something full - To complete a form or application Non- idiomatic Semi- idiomatic _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 227 _________________________________________________________________________________ Table 1 continued... Phrasal Verb ICE- PHI GloWbE Total Syntactic Feature Semantic Feature Idiomatic Status OAF OAF ¿OO�XS 13 679 692 T2 - To make something full - To complete a form or application Non- idiomatic Semi- idiomatic leave to 29 1713 1742 T2 - To leave someone or something to someone - To depart Non- idiomatic leave with 28 765 793 T2 - To leave someone or something with someone or something - To leave with someone or something - To depart with someone or something made out of 4 247 251 T1 - Something that has been changed or transformed one thing into another - Made from something Semi- idiomatic made up of 18 585 603 T1 - Consist of something - Something that has been changed or transformed one thing into another Highly Idiomatic relate to 110 4011 4121 T2 - To show or make connection between two or more things Non- idiomatic relate with 7 151 158 T2 talk to 156 4018 4174 T1 - To converse with someone Non- idiomatictalk with 34 809 843 T1 To better understand the similarities and differences of the two-type PhVs, the following subsections are presented: _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 228 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ EDVH�RQ and EDVH�IURP This study found that the PhVs base from and base on are semantically the same. The verb base means to make, form, or serve as basis for something. The particle from is used as a function word to indicate a starting point of something, while on is used as a function word to indicate position in contact with or supported by the top surface. Combining the verb to its preposition, the PhVs base from and base on mean to use particular ideas or facts to make a decision. Both are considered semi-idiomatic because the particles show limited productivity, and generally occur in the medial position (1, 2, 4, 5, 6) and rarely in the beginning position (3). They follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern and are separable when they are in the active voice. Examples are cited below. (1) Literature during the Colonial America were written EDVHG�IURP the experiences of the writer, that’s why it was called as the /LWHUDWXUH�RI�H[SHULHQFH�DQG�VRPHWLPHV�ZLWK�LPDJLQDWLRQ���,&(� PHI:W1A-015#84:2> (2) You may also agree that it’s not measured EDVHG�IURP where class RI�VRFLHW\�DQ�LQGLYLGXDO�EHORQJV�WR���*OR:E(��7KH�5ROOHU�&RDVWHU� Ride of a Happy and Matured Rider> (3) Based on the quotation submitted by PENTAGRAFIX, Inc. ( the company that will produce the said printed material), it seems that the most reasonable package to take is OPTION 2, considering WKH�SDSHU��VL]H��FRORU��QXPEHU�RI�SDJHV�DQG�SURFHVV�VSHFL¿FDWLRQV�� �,&(�3+,�:�%����������! (4) The latter is EDVHG�RQ algorithms determined by your website’s UHOHYDQF\� WR� WKH� VHDUFK� LWHP�� �*OR:E(�� 2QOLQH� 0DUNHWLQJ� Services You have to know about Social Media> (5) Such tables can be EDVHG� RQ� LPDJH� KLVWRJUDPV�� �,&(� PHI:W2A-034#19:1> (6) It EDVHV its decisions principally on the results of the Ateneo College Entrance Test, on past academic performances, on the recommendations of teachers, and on information contained in the DSSOLFDWLRQ�IRUP���,&(�3+,�:�'���������! Many dictionaries such as Macmillan Dictionary (2018), Thesaurus Dictionary (2018), and Cambridge Dictionary (2018) do not acknowledge base from as a standard PhV. Since the word base can imply a source of the basis or foundation of something, it may be the reason why the preposition from was/is used in some cases in PhE. Nevertheless, it can be assumed that such a feature of PhE is likely the same as the AmE variety considering that the PhV base on (OAF=7846) is preferred than base from (OAF=125). come up with and come out with It is worthy to note that the PhVs FRPH�XS�ZLWK (OAF=2226) and FRPH�RXW�ZLWK�(OAF=369) are semantically the same in PhE. Both mean to produce, create, devise, or think up; therefore, _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 229 _________________________________________________________________________________ they can be used interchangeably. The verb come means WR�PRYH�WRZDUG�VRPHWKLQJ. It also means to reach, approach, or advance. The particle up is used as a function word to indicate motion to or toward, or situation at a higher point. Linking the verb come to the particle up suggests a movement from a lower to a higher position. The particle out, on the other hand, is used as a function word to indicate an outward movement. Combining the verb come to the particle out means WR�FRPH�LQWR�SXEOLF�YLHZ. The particle ZLWK�is used to say that people or things are together in one place, or that two or more people or things are doing something together or are involved in something. It also means having (a particular characteristic, possession, etc.). Combining the three elements (i.e., FRPH�XS�ZLWK�and FRPH�RXW�ZLWK), they become PPVs and are therefore highly idiomatic. Both follow the type 1 (intransitive) pattern and are inseparable. However, while FRPH�XS�ZLWK�generally occurs in the medial position (7) DQG�UDUHO\�LQ�WKH�¿QDO�SRVLWLRQ������FRPH�RXW�ZLWK�generally occurs only in the medial position (9, 10). It should be noted that in other instances, the preposition ZLWK�is not really a part of the PhV come out, which, when put together, literally means to appear (11). (7) I am sure other banks will come up with a similar program soon. �*OR:E(��,QTXLUHU��0D\���������! (8) Then and then you integrate it with the visuals and I want to see you know I wanna hear my voice and then I wanna see what kind of visuals you come up with.��,&(�3+,�6�$�����������$! ���� 1RZ�XK���!�RI�FRXUVH�WKHUH�LV�WKDW�JHVWDWLRQ�SHULRG�WKDW�ZH�KDYH� to pass through uh we cannot avoid uh that uh stage even if we were to start after uh ten years we still have to pass through that uh gestation period uh but I I as I have said uh the government uh can uh if only it has the political will can uh come out with the necessary measures to cushion the impact of this on on the ZRUNHUV���,&(�3+,�6�%����������$! (10) Soon after the Manila Times came out with a public apology from its publisher Robina Gokongwei-Pe talk surfaced that the threat of an audit by the Bureau of Internal Revenue was the last straw WKDW��"!�EURXJKW���"!�WKH�IDPLO\�WR�SXEOLVK�DQ�DSRORJ\�WR� WKH� 3UHVLGHQW���,&(�3+,�6�%����������(! (11) The brand came out with a series of photos of her wearing giant PLII\�HDUV«��*OR:E(��https://triciagosingtian.com/> Cambridge Dictionary (2018) and MacMillan Dictionary (2018) suggest that the PhV FRPH�XS�ZLWK�means to think of or suggest an idea or plan. It also means to produce RU�SURYLGH�VRPHWKLQJ�WKDW�SHRSOH�ZDQW�(MacMillan Dictionary, 2018). Thus, the meaning of FRPH�XS�ZLWK�in this study is the same as the meaning in the said dictionaries. However, both dictionaries do not suggest that FRPH�RXW�ZLWK�means the same thing as what was found in this study (9). MacMillan Dictionary also suggests that FRPH�RXW�ZLWK�means to say something suddenly, usually something that surprises or shocks people or WR�LQWURGXFH�D�QHZ�SURGXFW�� For Cambridge Dictionary, it means to make something available to the public. As seen in the examples, it is apparent that the meaning is the same as the suggested meanings in the dictionaries. _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 230 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ compare to and compare with 7KH�¿QGLQJV�DOVR�UHYHDOHG�WKDW�WKH�3K9V� compare to and FRPSDUH�ZLWK�are semantically the same. The verb compare means to say that something is similar to something else, or to examine the character or qualities of something, especially in order to discover resemblances or differences. The particle to is used to indicate the place, person, or thing that someone or something moves toward. It is used as a function word to indicate similarity, correspondence, dissimilarity, or proportion. In addition, the particle ZLWK�is also used as a function word to indicate the object of a statement of comparison or equality, or to indicate a manner of action. When the verb is combined with the particle to or ZLWK��it becomes a PhV that means WR�HTXDWH�RU�GLIIHUHQWLDWH�EHWZHHQ�WKLQJV; hence, both are non-idiomatic or literal. Further, WKH�H[DPSOHV�LQ������DQG������DI¿UP�WKH�FODLP�RI�(QJOLVK�2[IRUG�/LYLQJ�'LFWLRQDULHV�������� that when the verb compare is used to resemble one thing with another or to make an analogy between two different things, the preposition to is obligatory. Examples are given below. (12) Compared to nucleotide sequencing which is labor intensive and UHTXLUHV� VWURQJ� DPSOL¿FDWLRQ� RI� WKH� '1$�� 3&5�66&3� DOORZV� SURFHVVLQJ� RI� D� ODUJHU� QXPEHU� RI� VDPSOHV� �� �IRUHLJQ!� H�J�� �� IRUHLJQ!������VDPSOHV�SHU�JHO����,&(�3+,�:�$���������! (13) You have to put it in perspective by comparing it to our economic RXWSXW�IRU�H[DPSOH��RU�YLV�D�YLV�JRY¾W�UHYHQXHV��HWF����*OR:E(�� Inquirer, September 13, 2012> (14) Compared with the performance for the same species in the whole of Asia, the country’s cattle industry again lagged behind whereas WKRVH� RI� JRDWV� DQG� �LQGLJ!� FDUDEDR� ��LQGLJ!� ZHUH� ZLWKLQ� WKH� $VLDQ�DYHUDJHV���,&(�3+,�:�$���������! (15) Management then compares their own processes with these industry best practices to identify areas of improvement or effective models that they should consider adopting or adapting for WKHLU�RZQ�RUJDQL]DWLRQV���*OR:E(��6*9��,QGXVWU\�EHQFKPDUNLQJ� of taxpayers, September 10, 2012)> Syntactically, both PhVs follow type 1 (intransitive) pattern and are separable, occurring most frequently in the medial position (13 and 15) and rarely in the beginning position (12 and 14). Semantically, PhE follows both AmE and BrE varieties; however, it appears that the PhV compare to (OAF=3895) is preferred than FRPSDUH�ZLWK (OAF=1145). connect to and connect with This study also revealed that the PhVs connect to and FRQQHFW�ZLWK�are the same in meaning. The verb connect means WR� MRLQ� WZR�RU�PRUH� WKLQJV� WRJHWKHU� or to place or establish a relationship. Having known the meanings of to and ZLWK�in the previous discussion, when the verb is linked to either of these prepositions, it becomes a PhV that literally means WR�MRLQ�WZR� things together or�WR�UHODWH�RQH�WKLQJ�ZLWK�DQRWKHU. Thus, both are interchangeable and non- _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 231 _________________________________________________________________________________ idiomatic. However, in the case where there is a physical connection (16), the preposition to is used and can be considered obligatory. Examples are given below. (16) This reactor is equipped with a motor on top where the propeller is connected to���,&(�3+,�:�$���������! (17) Doris Erestain-Reytas who is now the President of Ernie’s company but still connected to the Civil Service Commission was DOVR�SUHVHQW���,&(�3+,�:�%���������! (18) Mr. Chief Justice we have to object again on the ground that uh it does not have a tendency to connect the testimony of the witness to�DQ\�RI�WKH�SDUDJUDSKV�RI�DUWLFOH�WZR���,&(�3+,�6�%� 070#46:1:C> (19) With what agency or agencies are you connected with"��,&(� PHI:S1B-067#22:1:D> (20) It connects God with� QDWXUH� DQG� ZLWK� FXOWXUH�� �,&(� PHI:W1B-007#155:2> Since the PhV connect to means WR�MRLQ�WZR�WKLQJV�WRJHWKHU�and FRQQHFW�ZLWK�means WR�VKRZ�RU�SURYLGH�D�OLQN�RU�UHODWLRQVKLS�EHWZHHQ�WZR�WKLQJV, it can be assumed that these PhVs are the same in meaning with both the AmE and the BrE varieties. At a closer look, it can be gleaned that connect to (OAF=1621) is preferred than FRQQHFW�ZLWK (OAF=1301), DOEHLW�WKH�GLIIHUHQFH�LV�LQVLJQL¿FDQW��6\QWDFWLFDOO\��ERWK�3K9V�IROORZ�WKH�W\SH����LQWUDQVLWLYH�� and type 2 (transitive) patterns and are separable, occurring generally in the medial position ��������DQG�����DQG�UDUHO\�LQ�WKH�¿QDO�SRVLWLRQ�����DQG����� ¿OO�RXW�and ¿OO�XS Contrary to the assumption of several, if not all, Filipino English language teachers and VR�FDOOHG�(QJOLVK�SUR¿FLHQW�VSHDNHUV��¿OO�RXW�and ¿OO�XS�are the same in meaning and are employed interchangeably when both used with a form or document (21, 22 and 23). Both mean to complete a form or application, but in most cases, ¿OO�XS�means to make something full. In the same vein, the verb ¿OO�means to make something full, or�WR�VXSSO\�ZLWK�D� full complement. Having known the meanings of up and out earlier in the discussion, when the verb is linked to these prepositions, these PhVs can be considered as semi-idiomatic when they are used to complete a form or application because the particles do not indicate direction, hence limited in function. On the other hand, when ¿OO�XS�is used to indicate a greater amount or a higher level (24), it can be considered non-idiomatic. Cambridge (2018) and Collins (2018) dictionaries suggest that ¿OO�XS�means to make something full or become full, while ¿OO�RXW�means to make or become fuller, thicker, or rounder; to make more substantial; and to complete a form or application or to make (a GRFXPHQW��HWF���FRPSOHWH�E\�LQVHUWLQJ�RU�VXSSO\LQJ�LQIRUPDWLRQ. Thus, the PhV ¿OO�XS��which is used to complete a document or application, has a new or additional meaning. _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 232 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ In addition, the PhVs ¿OO�RXW�and ¿OO�XS�follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern and are separable. Both PhVs occur in the beginning and the medial positions. (21) Applicants for scholarship must ¿OO�RXW a Scholarship/Financial $LG�4XHVWLRQQDLUH���,&(�3+,�:�'���������! (22) Fill out and submit the form and exam permit, together with all RWKHU�UHTXLUHPHQWV��DW�WKH��EROG!�2I¿FH�RI�$GPLVVLRQ�DQG�$LG��� EROG!�RU�DW�WKH��EROG!�3URYLQFLDO�7HVWLQJ�&HQWHU���EROG!����S!�� �,&(�3+,�:�'���������! (23) Applicants will ¿OO�XS a form providing information like name, address, contact number, brand of the helmet, date the helmet was acquired and the name of the store where the helmet was bought. �*OR:E(��,QTXLUHU��-XO\���������! (24) FILL it up�ZLWK�ZDWHU�XS� WR� WKH�HGJH�RI� WKH�FRQWDLQHU���,&(� PHI:W2D-011#48:1> leave to and leave with This study found similarities and differences in meaning for PhVs leave to (OAF=1742) and�OHDYH�ZLWK (OAF=793). The PhV leave to means to entrust or delegate something to someone (25) and to depart (26). The PhV OHDYH�ZLWK�means to leave someone or something ZLWK�VRPHRQH�RU�VRPHWKLQJ�(27 and 29) or WR�OHDYH�ZLWK�VRPHRQH�RU�VRPHWKLQJ�(28), and WR�GHSDUW�ZLWK�VRPHRQH�RU�VRPHWKLQJ, especially when separable where a location or event is in between the verb and the particle (30). Hence, in some cases, these PhVs are used interchangeably, especially when the meaning does not vary whichever particle is used. (25) We leave it to the people’s judgment whether or not our Armed Forces have become modernized because of those exercises whether or not we learned of the latest technologies because even the guns and the tanks and the planes furnished us like the Huey helicopters are admittedly hand-me-down equipments destined to limit our progress and keep us attuned to mendicancy. ICE- PHI:S2A-068#86:1:A> (26) Today and happily for people leaving close to airports, or under ÀLJKW�SDWKV��WKHUH�LV�QR�PRUH�IDOOLQJ�PDQXUH���*OR:E(��$VLDVSLULW�� https://asiaspirit.com/lavatory.html> (27) To end, I’d like to leave everyone of you with these pieces of DGYLFH�� �*OR:E(�� ,QWHJUDWHG� &KHPLVWV� RI� WKH� 3KLOLSSLQHV�� October 12, 2012> (28) She left her room with Nisha Narvane along with riding the T for a Honda parked outside her own two-storey house off 1HZEXU\�VWUHHW��LQ�D�GLVWULFW�OLQHG�ZLWK�PDJQROLDV����S!���,&(� PHI:W2F-019#83:1> _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 233 _________________________________________________________________________________ (29) The Chinese were left with the minority group, who would HYHQWXDOO\�UHEHO�IRU�WKH�ORYH�RI�PXVLF���,&(�3+,�:�$���������!� (30) I can’t just leave this game with�\RX���*OR:E(��*DLD�2QOLQH�� https://www.gaiaonline.com/forum/soul-crash/spins-taking-1- cash-without-displaying-that-it-would/t.81488309/> Further, the verb leave means to depart,�WR�JLYH�E\�PHDQV�RI�D�ZLOO, or to permit to be or remain subject to another’s action or control. Having known the meaning of the preposition to, when the verb is linked to it, it becomes a PhV in the non-idiomatic category. Likewise, when it is combined with the preposition ZLWK��it becomes a non-idiomatic PhV. Mc- Graw Hill Dictionary (2002) suggests that OHDYH�ZLWK�means to leave someone or something ZLWK�VRPHRQH�RU�VRPHWKLQJ, or to depart in company of someone; while leave to means to leave someone or something to someone. In this study, it is evident that the meanings of the PhVs leave to and OHDYH�ZLWK are similar to those in the AmE variety. In terms of their syntactic function, it is noteworthy to determine that both PhVs follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern and are separable, occurring generally in the medial position. made out of and made up of Generally, the PhVs made out of (OAF=251) and made up of (OAF=603) are not the same in meaning, but in a very rare case, they are the same. As seen in the example cited below, the PhV made out of in (31 and 32) means something that has been changed or transformed from one thing into another �L�H���VKULPSV�DQG�¿VK��DQG�EDPERR��RU�something is an outcome of something. On the contrary, the PhV made up of in example (33) means consists of something. However, in example (34) it is apparent that the soda bottle is made out of polyethylene; therefore, it also means something that has been changed or transformed from one thing into another. In another view, the verb made means built, formed, or VKDSHG�LQ�D�VSHFL¿HG�ZD\� The preposition of is used as a function word to indicate origin. Having known the meaning of the prepositions out and up in the previous discussion, when the three elements are combined (i.e., made out of and PDGH�XS�RI�, they become PPVs. The PhV made out of is semi-idiomatic because the preposition out is limited in function. One can just say made of. On the contrary, the PhV made up of LV�KLJKO\�LGLRPDWLF�LI� WKH�¿UVW�PHDQLQJ�LV� meant like in example (33), while it is semi-idiomatic if the second meaning is conveyed like in example (34). Thesaurus Dictionary (2018) suggests that made up of means including, containing, etc. The PhV made out of means that something has been changed or transformed from one thing into another. Hence, the meanings of the PhVs made out of and made up of are the same as the suggested meanings in the dictionary, except in the case where made up of has a new or additional meaning. (31) They they have some that are made out of uh shrimps tiny tiny shrimps some that are made out of� ¿VK�� �,&(�3+,�6�$� 054#153:3:A> _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 234 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ (32) It is located in the Loboc River and as you can see is made out of�EDPERR���*OR:E(��http://allthings.clangsy.net/> (33) Not too long ago, in another Congress, largely made up of the same members, it was discovered that money made the rounds to JHW�DQRWKHU�ELOO�SDVVHG����S!���,&(�3+,�:�(���������! (34) Now the cover that they use for the soda bottle is made up of high- GHQVLW\�SRO\HWK\OHQH���,&(�3+,�6�$�����������$! Regarding their syntactic function, both PhVs follow the type 1 (intransitive) pattern and are inseparable, occurring generally in the medial position. relate to and relate with The PhVs relate to and UHODWH�ZLWK are semantically the same. The verb relate means WR�VKRZ� RU�PDNH�D�FRQQHFWLRQ�RU�UHODWLRQVKLS�EHWZHHQ�WZR�RU�PRUH�WKLQJV. Linking the verb to either the preposition to or ZLWK�means WR�VKRZ�RU�PDNH�FRQQHFWLRQ�EHWZHHQ�WZR�RU�PRUH�WKLQJV. Both PhVs are non-idiomatic because the meaning is apparent. The PhVs follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern, occurring generally in the medial position. Examples are given below. (35) Naturally, he related this to his elder brother Paciano, who it seems ZDV�DOVR�SV\FKLF�EHFDXVH�RQH�QLJKW�DIWHU��LQGLJ!��LW!�6LPEDQJ� *DEL� ��LW!� ��LQGLJ!� 5L]DO� UHODWHG� WKH� GUHDPV� KH� ZDV� KDYLQJ� DERXW� WKH� IDPLO\� JRLQJ� WKURXJK� D� SHULRG� RI� WURXEOH� �� �LQGLJ!� �LW!�NDJXOXKDQ���LW!���LQGLJ!���EXW�KH�FRXOG�QRW�PDNH�RXW�RU�WHOO� whether the family would lose or gain from this &ldquo; trouble. UGTXR���,&(�3+,�:�%���������! (36) Since the GLIP coverage is related to staff salaries, opportunities are given periodically for staff to increase the DLDIP coverage RI�WKHLU�VSRXVHV��LQ�SURSRUWLRQ�WR�LQFUHDVHV�LQ�VWDII�VDODULHV����S!�� �,&(�3+,�:�%���������! (37) Uh the proper format will be to give the data then after giving the data is to to try to relate that data with�RXU�VWXG\���,&(�3+,�6�$� 011#51:1:A> (38) Out of habit, I guess, since they normally relate with deaf children. �,&(�3+,�:�%����������! Merriam-Webster Dictionary (2018) suggests that the PhV relate to means to connect �VRPHWKLQJ��ZLWK��VRPHWKLQJ�HOVH�; to understand and like or have sympathy for (someone RU�VRPHWKLQJ�;�WR�GHVFULEH�KRZ�VRPHRQH�WDONV�WR�RU�EHKDYHV�WRZDUG��VRPHRQH�HOVH�; and WR�EH�FRQQHFWHG�ZLWK��VRPHRQH�RU�VRPHWKLQJ�. In several dictionaries and in the so-called standardized usage, the PhV UHODWH�ZLWK�is not recognized as a norm. This likely suggests that the PhV UHODWH�ZLWK�is an emerging feature and may be considered a variant for relate to in PhE. Nonetheless, PhE generally uses relate to (OAF=4121) than UHODWH�ZLWK�(OAF=158). _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 235 _________________________________________________________________________________ talk to and talk with This study also found that the PhVs talk to (OAF=4174) and WDON� ZLWK� (OAF=843) are semantically the same; however, the former is preferred than the latter. The verb talk means to converse, to speak, etc. When the verb is combined with either the preposition to or ZLWK�� it becomes a PhV that means WR�FRQYHUVH�RU�VSHDN�ZLWK�VRPHRQH. Both PhVs are considered non-idiomatic because the meaning is literal. Furthermore, both PhVs follow the type 2 (transitive) pattern and are inseparable. Moreover, they both occur generally in the medial position. Examples are cited below. (39) Lately I’ve been talking to Lourdes regarding their wedding. �,&(�3+,�:�%����������! (40) When I received the invitation I talked with Chairman Alcala I VDLG�GR�ZH�KDYH�D�QHZ�SROLF\�DQG�KH�VDLG�QRQH���,&(�3+,�6�$� 031#23:1:A> 7KLV�¿QGLQJ�DI¿UPV�WKH�FODLP�RI�$OOHQ��������DQG�(VSUHVVR�(QJOLVK��Q�G���WKDW�talk to and WDON�ZLWK�mean WR�FRQYHUVH�ZLWK�VRPHRQH and that in almost all cases, they can be used interchangeably. However, for Writing Explained (n.d.), talk to implies a one-sided conversation such as between a supervisor and an employee, while WDON�ZLWK�means holding a conversation and that it is likely used for conversation among peers, equals, or friends. This claim is contrary to example (40), which clearly shows a one-sided conversation. Nadiger (2016) also claimed that there is a subtle difference in meaning between these two PhVs. On the one hand, the PhV talk to implies a one-way communication, which can mean that one person is talking and the other is listening. On the other, the PhV WDON�ZLWK�implies a two-way conversation. 4. Conclusion This study aimed to compare the semantic features and idiomatic status, and to describe the syntactic features of same-verb different-particle PhVs in PhE by utilizing the ICE- 3+,�DQG�*OR:E(�FRUSRUD��7KH�¿QGLQJV�UHYHDOHG�WKDW�VRPH�SDUWLFOHV�SUHSRVLWLRQV�DUH�XVHG� interchangeably. At least two PhVs were found to have a new meaning (i.e., ¿OO�XS� and made up of), which may be considered as lexicalization cases. Most PhVs follow the type 2 �WUDQVLWLYH��SDWWHUQ�DQG�DUH�VHSDUDEOH��RFFXUULQJ�JHQHUDOO\�LQ�WKH�PHGLDO�SRVLWLRQ��7KH�¿QGLQJV� also suggest that the interchange of particles/prepositions for the same verb to form a PhV is a prevalent phenomenon in PhE. Despite this pervasiveness, PhE still generally follows or is the same as the AmE variety and somewhat the BrE variety in using PhVs. This likely VXJJHVWV�WKDW�DOWKRXJK�3K9V�DUH�JHQHUDOO\�QRW�DQ�LQKHUHQW�FKDUDFWHULVWLF�LQ�WKH�¿UVW�ODQJXDJH�� Filipino speakers still show adequate knowledge of its use, although alternative features are also exhibited. These new features may be taken as variational or alternative features as a result of lexical and semantic innovations and creativity, breaking the “normative perspective on language use” and “making English an Asian and a Philippine language” (Paz, 2020, p. 15). _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 236 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ Several factors can be drawn for the interchange of particles/prepositions. One example is the absence of PhVs in the native language, which has resulted in the conservative use of PhVs among Filipino speakers of English (Ella & Dita, 2017). From a deviational and learning-acquisition point of view, it can be assumed that the use of prepositions in a sentence is generally problematic among second language (L2) learners and speakers (Chua et al., 2015; Paz, 2020); hence, choosing an appropriate preposition for a PhV appears to be problematic as well among Filipino speakers. In fact, speakers of AmE do not always follow the doctrine, if there is such, in the use of prepositions. This aspect of the language seems to be “the most frequent lexical items” anomalous to an AmE speaker (Gonzalez, 1983, p. 177). $V�D�¿QDO�QRWH��WKH�¿QGLQJV�RI�WKLV�VWXG\�PD\�EH�RI�JUHDW�KHOS�IRU�RUJDQL]DWLRQV�RU� publishers in their quest to describe and establish a dictionary of PhVs in PhE. For language teachers, while it is good to teach the use of PhVs in the AmE variety, especially for academic writing, the counterparts or variants and emerging features should also be taught for purposes of raising awareness on how PhE is unique in the use of PhVs and strengthening learners’ SUR¿FLHQF\�LQ�XVLQJ�3K9V�LQ�GLIIHUHQW�YDULHWLHV�DQG�FRQWH[WV�DV�ZHOO� References Allen, S. (2016). Talk to vs. talk with–which should I use? https://www.grammarly.com/blog/ talk-to-vs-talk-with/ Anderson, S.R. (1992). A-morphous morphology. Cambridge University Press. Bautista, M.L.S. (Ed.). (2011). Some notes on ‘no’ in Philippine English. Anvil Publishing, Inc. %DXWLVWD��0�/�6��� �%ROWRQ��.���(GV������������Philippine English: Linguistic and literary perspectives. Anvil Publishing, Inc. Bautista, M.L.S., Lising, J.L.V., & Dayag, D.T. (2004). Philippine English data for the International Corpus of English project��8QLYHUVLW\�5HVHDUFK�&RRUGLQDWLRQ�2I¿FH�� De La Salle University. Biber, D., Johansson, S., Leech, G., Conrad, S., & Finegan, E. (1999). Longman grammar of VSRNHQ�DQG�ZULWWHQ�(QJOLVK��Longman. Biermeier, T. (2011). Lexical trends in Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the international corpus of English (pp. 223-247). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Borlongan, A.M. (2011). Some aspects of the morphosyntax of Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 187-200). Anvil Publishing, Inc. _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 237 _________________________________________________________________________________ Borlongan, A.M. (2016). Relocating Philippine English in Schneider’s dynamic model. Asian Englishes, 18(3), 232-241. https://doi.org/10.1080/13488678.2016.1223067 Cambridge Dictionary (2018). https://dictionary.cambridge.org/ &KXD��5�0���)HUUHU��5���4XLMDQR��/�-��� �6DQWRV��-�$����������,QWHUIHUHQFH�EHWZHHQ�)LOLSLQR�DQG� English prepositions: A comparative analysis of male and female Filipino bilingual learners in the World Englishes paradigm in the Philippine setting. Proceedings of the '/68�5HVHDUFK�&RQJUHVV, 3, 1-9. Collins Dictionary (2018). https://www.collinsdictionary.com/ Collins, P. (2011). Variable agreement in the existential there-construction in Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 175-186). Anvil Publishing, Inc. &RURQHO��/�0����������3DWWHUQV�RI�LQWHQVL¿HU�XVDJH�LQ�3KLOLSSLQH�(QJOLVK��,Q�0�/�6��%DXWLVWD� (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 93-116). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Dagut, M., & Laufer, B. (1985). Avoidance of phrasal verbs—A case for contrastive analysis. Studies in Second Language Acquisition, 7(1), 73-79. https://doi.org/10.1017/ S0272263100005167 David, A.C.M. (2019). The modal must in Philippine English: A corpus-based analysis. 7KH� Journal of English as an International Language, 13(2.2), 211-218. Davies, M. (2015). Introducing the 1.9 Billion Word Global Web-Based English Corpus (GloWbE). 21st�&HQWXU\�7H[W��. Dita, S.N. (2011). The grammar and semantics of adverbial disjuncts in Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 33-50). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Dita, S.N., & Borlongan, A.M. (2020). 7KH�OHJLWLPDF\�RI�3KLOLSSLQH�(QJOLVK [Special Online Lecture]. Ella, J.R., & Dita, S.N. (2017). The phrasal-prepositional verbs in Philippine English: A corpus-based analysis. 31st�3DFL¿F�$VLD�&RQIHUHQFH�RQ�/DQJXDJH��,QIRUPDWLRQ�DQG� &RPSXWDWLRQ��3$&/,&����, 34-41. Cebu City, the Philippines. _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 238 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ English Oxford Living Dictionaries. (2018). Compare with or compare to? https:// en.oxforddictionaries.com/usage/compare-with-or-compare-to Espresso English. (n.d.). 7DON� WR�RU� WDON�ZLWK"� https://www.espressoenglish.net/talk-to-or- talk-with/ Friginal, E. (2011). The modal verb ZRXOG in spoken and written Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 51-74). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Gonzales, W.D.W. (2017). Philippine Englishes. Asian Englishes, 19(1), 79-95. https://doi.or g/10.1080/13488678.2016.1274574 Gonzalez, A. (1983). When does an error become a feature of Philippine English? In R.B. Noss (Ed.), Varieties of English in Southeast Asia (pp. 150-172). RELC Anthology Series Number 11. Gonzalez, A. (1996). Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Readings in Philippine sociolinguistics (pp. 88-92). De La Salle University Press. Hundt, M. (2011). The committee has/have decided… On concord patterns with collective noun in inner- and outer-circle varieties of English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 117-144). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Iacobini, C. (2009). Phrasal verbs between syntax and lexicon. Rivista de Linguistica, 21(1), 97-117. .DFKUX��%�%����������5HJLRQDO�QRUPV�IRU�(QJOLVK��Studies in Language Learning, 4, 54-76. .DFKUX�� %�%�� �������� 6WDQGDUGV�� FRGL¿FDWLRQ�� DQG� VRFLROLQJXLVWLF� UHDOLVP�� 7KH� (QJOLVK� ODQJXDJH�LQ�WKH�RXWHU�FLUFOH��,Q�5��4XLUN�� �+��:LGGRZVRQ��(GV����English in the ZRUOG��7HDFKLQJ�DQG�OHDUQLQJ�RI�ODQJXDJH�DQG�OLWHUDWXUH (pp. 11-30). Cambridge University Press. .DFKUX��%�%����������:RUOG�(QJOLVKHV�DQG�DSSOLHG�OLQJXLVWLFV��:RUOG�(QJOLVKHV, 9(1), 3-20. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-971X.1990.tb00683.x .DFKUX�� %�%�� �������� :RUOG� (QJOLVKHV�� $SSURDFKHV�� LVVXHV� DQG� UHVRXUFHV�� Language 7HDFKLQJ, 25(1), 1-14. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0261444800006583 Liao, Y., & Fukuya, Y.J. (2004). Avoidance of phrasal verbs: The case of Chinese learners of English. Language Learning: A Journal of Research in Language Studies, 54(2), 193-226. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-9922.2004.00254.x _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 Same-verb different-particle phrasal verbs in Philippine English 239 _________________________________________________________________________________ Llamzon, T.A. (1969). Standard Filipino English. Ateneo University Press. Llamzon, T.A. (1997). The phonology of Philippine English. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), (QJOLVK�LV�DQ�$VLDQ�ODQJXDJH��7KH�3KLOLSSLQH�FRQWH[W�(pp. 41-48). The Macquarie Library Pty. Ltd. MacMillan Dictionary. (2018). https://www.macmillandictionary.com/phrasalVerbsOne/ Mahpeykar, N., & Tyler, A. (2015). A principled Cognitive Linguistics account of English phrasal verbs with up and out. Language and Cognition, 7(1), 1-35. https:// doi.org/10.1017/langcog.2014.15 Malicsi, J. (2007). Philippine English: A case of language drift. Ritsume, 22(1), 29-58. Martin, I.P. (2014). Beyond nativization?: Philippine English in Schneider’s dynamic PRGHO��� ,Q� 6�� %XVFKIHOG��7�� +RIIPDQQ�� 0�� +XEHU�� �$�� .DXWV]VFK� �(GV����7KH� HYROXWLRQ�RI�(QJOLVKHV��7KH�G\QDPLF�PRGHO�DQG�EH\RQG�(pp. 70-85). John Benjamins Publishing Co. Mc-Graw Hill Dictionary. (2002). 0F*UDZ�+LOO�GLFWLRQDU\�RI�$PHULFDQ�LGLRPV�DQG�SKUDVDO� verbs. The McGraw-Hill Companies, Inc. https://idioms.thefreedictionary.com/ Merriam-Webster Dictionary. (2018). https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/ Munalim, L.O. (2019). Subject-auxiliary inversion in embedded questions in spoken professional discourses: A comparison of Philippine English between 1999 and 2016-2019. 7KH�-RXUQDO�RI�(QJOLVK�DV�DQ�,QWHUQDWLRQDO�/DQJXDJH, 14(1), 40-57. Nadiger, B. (2016). ,V�³WDONLQJ�ZLWK´�RU�³WDONLQJ�WR´�JUDPPDWLFDOO\�FRUUHFW�(QJOLVK"�https:// www.quora.com/Is-talking-with-or-talking-to-grammatically-correct-English Oxford Dictionaries. (2018). English Oxford living dictionaries. Oxford University Press. https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/usage/compare-with-or-compare-to Pauwels, A., & Winter, J. (2011). Generic pronouns and gender-inclusive language reform in the English of Singapore and the Philippines. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 145-158). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Paz, R.M.O. (2020). A corpus-based analysis of prepositions of time and location in Filipino students’ written essays. International Journal on Language, Research and Education Studies, 4(1), 1-17. _________________________________________________________________________________ Asian Journal of English Language Studies (AJELS) Volume 8, December 2020 240 *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR _________________________________________________________________________________ 4XLUN��5���*UHHQEDXP��6���/HHFK��*��� �6YDUWYLN��-����������A comprehensive grammar of the English language. Longman. Schneider, E.W. (2003). The dynamics of new Englishes: From identity construction to dialect birth. Language, 79(2), 233-281. http://www.jstor.org/stable/4489419 Schneider, E.W. (2007). 3RVWFRORQLDO� (QJOLVK�� 9DULHWLHV� DURXQG� WKH� ZRUOG�� Cambridge University Press. Schneider, E.W. (2011). The subjunctive in Philippine English: An updated assessment. In M.L.S. Bautista (Ed.), Studies of Philippine English: Exploring the Philippine component of the International Corpus of English (pp. 159-174). Anvil Publishing, Inc. Tatel, F.B. (2019). One step closer to Phase 4 in Schneider’s dynamic model. Philippine Journal of Linguistics, 50, 67-83. https://www.pjl-phil.com/article/2019/50/NA/ One-step-closer-to-phase-4-in-Schneider%E2%80%99s-Dynamic-Model Thesaurus Dictionary. (2018). https://www.thesaurus.com Writing Explained. (n.d.). 7DON�WR�RU�WDON�ZLWK�±�:KDW¶V�WKH�GLIIHUHQFH" https://writingexplained. org/talk-to-talk-with-difference Declaration of Interest 7KH�DXWKRU�GHFODUHV�QR�SRWHQWLDO�FRQÀLFWV�RI�LQWHUHVW�ZLWK�UHVSHFW�WR�WKH�UHVHDUFK��DXWKRUVKLS�� and/or publication of this research article. *H¿OOR\G�/��'H�&DVWUR�is a graduate of Master of Arts in English Language Studies, and has completed the academic requirements for the degree Doctor of Philosophy in Language Studies at Ateneo de Zamboanga University, the Philippines. At present, he is a college instructor and internal quality auditor at Zamboanga State College of Marine Sciences and Technology (ZSCMST). He served as Target Language Expert Reviewer at the National Foreign Language Center, University of Maryland, USA. His research interests include language teaching, Philippine Creole Spanish, and Philippine English. 
work_k5ucgmkd6nfzfixq3bgzddpjtu	----	.^......(new) J o u r n a l o f E d u c a t i o n a l M e d i a & L i b r a r y S c i e n c e s , 4 0 4 ( J u n e 2 0 0 3 ) 4 2 9 - 4 3 7 4 2 9 Introduction: Wrong Tool, Right Pew Ralph Waldo Emerson once remarked that, Things are in the saddle. And ride mankind. For those institutions attempting to build better library collections the problem is not so much a lack of money as it is a lack of insight into the nature of the difficulty. Many have confused the tool for the final product and have little understanding of carpentry. Let me explain: librarians (the carpenters of building collections) must use numerous tools to build access to (and to preserve) varied stores of information, including research materials. However, one of the tools, digital technology, is fast becoming the end and not the means to better libraries. And, as such, it is reducing the effectiveness of libraries by limiting the amount and variety of information that they could provide! In his book, Technical Fouls: Democratic Dilemmas and Technological Change, John Jacobsen in examining the complex analysis of the economic relationship among technology, science, and politics shrewdly points out that power refers not only to formal political offices but to private eco- nomic and organizational resources devoted to influencing public policy Abstract Unsound use of automation and digital idolatry are reducing access to research infor- mation. Technology should be the means not the end to better libraries. By understanding how digital information has been captured by multinational corpo- rations, one must thread one s way through the labyrinth of mis-information clones and data corruption to a more wholesome collection of diverse points of view. Collection building will always be labor intensive, and therefore time-consuming, because intellectual judgments are involved. Giving away selection to vendors and publishers only furthers the degradation of research and ultimately threatens not only intellectual investigation but also national security. The way forward is backward to the hard work of selecting. Keywords : Collection development; Collection management; Automation; Digital access; Reader s advisor; Acquisitions; Intellectual freedom Building Library Collections: The Horse Is Riding Us! Milton T. Wolf Retired (Formerly Senior Vice President for Collection Programs at The Center for Research Libraries) J o u r n a l o f E d u c a t i o n a l M e d i a & L i b r a r y S c i e n c e s , 4 0 4 ( J u n e 2 0 0 3 )4 3 0 agendas and outcomes. 1 He goes on to caution that when elite groups capture a technology (like when the oil industry captured the nuclear industry), it frequently results in less open discussions about the technology s merits and implementation. (Many collection builders will remember the difficulty, especially in the 1970s, of getting information that reflected some of the negative aspects (health, environmental, economics) of the nuclear energy field. Content Advocates At present, the problem is the capture of digital information by Big Publishing and its international corporate owners. Content (and much of its research) has been captured, commodified, and its access controlled. As John Perry Barlow stated in a recent presentation to Western Council State Librarians (November 2002), Librarians are the content advocates. The problem, though, is librarians aren t doing a very good job advocating. While the 1990s saw the United States (and most of the world) enjoying the greatest concentration of wealth ever in history, the amount of the U.S. libraries share (in terms of purchasing power) for adding print materials to its collections actually decreased. Numerous authors have detailed the con- glomeration, consolidation, and homogenization of the publishing industry worldwide. The outcome has been a commodification of information that has no regard for the public interest or the commonweal. The publishing industry, as part of a multinational New World Order, has captured the new technology of digitized information . In pursuit of content that presents as many sides of an issue as possible, it is becoming increasingly clear that painstaking time and effort will be required to circumvent the vested interests that are daily exerting a strangle- hold on intellectual inquiry, scholarly investigation and informed opinion. Too few publishing enterprises are in control of too much content (or what often masquerades as content ). The desperate nature of the situation becomes evident when, in the 1990s, the Association of Research Libraries (ARL) found itself compelled to foster the existence of the Scholarly Publishing and Academic Resources Coalition (SPARC) to promote competition in scholarly communication while simultaneously increasing access to information. ARL realized that without drawing a line in the research sand, the health of intellectual inquiry would be significantly stunted. Big Publishing, how- ever, had no intention of letting digital publishing go the way of print pub- 1 John Jacobsen, Technical Fouls : Democratic Dilemmas and Technological Change (Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 2000), p. 4. Wolf : Building Library Collections : The Horse Is Riding Us ! 4 3 1 lishing with its historic concepts of copyright and fair use . With firm backing by the American Association of Publishers, Congress passed the incredibly restrictive Digital Millennium Copyright Act (1998), which is already having a deleterious impact on research, especially in the STM fields (Science, Technology and Medicine). GladysAnn Wells cuts right to the heart of the matter in her insightful and important observation that Currently, we lose many digitally born documents when their creators decide they lack sufficient further market value. At this time, libraries often cannot obtain the legal or the technical means to make even one preservation copy. Therefore, in the digital environment, short-term profitability deter- mines the longevity of born digital information that our children might need. Without a preservation copy the information will not exist. 2 Monopoly Owns Government and Science? Big Publishing has been tireless (utilizing its stables of lawyers, account- ants and political contributions) in redefining what is public domain, bypass- ing historic copyright laws intent and moving the agenda to digitized infor- mation, over which they hope to have a virtual monopoly. Through price controls, aggregate selling, and licensing agreements (many of which will provide print copies only if you purchase digital ones) they have success- fully gained data control over wide swaths of content-especially in the sci- ences! Under the newly passed copyright conventions, licensing often per- mits publishers to determine how libraries are used and what information they can obtain. By seeking to control digital information and its production (and limiting the development of print collections by increasing prices astro- nomically on print materials), they are increasingly able to circumvent the more public-friendly copyright laws affecting printed materials. Carla J. Stoffle sums it up: This market has acted to increase prices and limit access to information. The result is that small publishers are often forced out of business. It is the same market that is trying to control the Internet with restrictive copyright policies, licensing restrictions, which inappropriately attempt to control who can use our libraries, and encryption devices to iden- tify and potentially bill users for even viewing information. By breaking this market monopoly, we can ensure broad access to information. 3 2 GladysAnn Wells, Understanding Electronic Contracting : The Impact of Regulations, New Laws & New Agreements by Practicing Law Institute Chair, Raymond T. Nimmer (Intellectual Property Course Handbook Series, Number G-697), p. 964. 3 Carla J. Stoffle, Social equity and empowerment in the Digital Age : A place for Activist Librarians, The Changing Culture of Libraries, ed. Renee Feinberg (Jefferson, N.C. : McFarland, 2001), p. 106. J o u r n a l o f E d u c a t i o n a l M e d i a & L i b r a r y S c i e n c e s , 4 0 4 ( J u n e 2 0 0 3 )4 3 2 The Problem with It While librarians have sought ever more ingenious ways to wring more efficiencies out of the shrinking library dollar by forming consortial groups with, hopefully, more purchasing power, by joining such preservation initia- tives as JSTOR, and by supporting the efforts of SPARC, this Orwellian dilemma has also been aided and abetted by the library profession because it has regularly confused information technology (IT) with content. Jim Dwyer recalls an ALA conference program where one of the partici- pants remarked that, Library X spent a million dollars on an automation system so it could circulate its book. 4 This confusion about its mission to provide and protect, and its capture by Big Publishing is not one that the library profession wants to hear, let alone admit. The Trojan Horse (and the one that is riding librarians and other information professionals) is called Digital Access. Librarians too often serve this new technology rather than the art of selection of content regardless of format . The very heart of librarianship is the acquisition of the right materials . Technology Uber Alles Interestingly, the rapid deployment of IT (fed by the needs of the elite who captured the new technology for an infrastructure to carry out their designs) elevated a new class of technician, not only in libraries, who are much more enthusiastic about digital upgrades than they are about the intellectual content purveyed. This new group has moved with alacrity into major administrative positions often becoming the Chief Information Officer. In addition, administrators and governing bodies (seduced by digi- tal fantasies that whisper the end of those expensive libraries ) excite themselves into believing that the Internet and digital technologies are the fast track to information nirvana. Thus, this leadership group (and its choir of technical supplicants) is more willing to settle for buying value-added, fast access impermanent data than investing in content for the long term. Unfortunately, these technology-seduced administrators often have too little interest in intellectual diversity, or any ideas contrary to their funda- mentalist belief in the role of digital information as the new philosophers stone. Again, it was not coincidental, that at the same time that there was an unprecedented economic boom, libraries suffered an economic retrench- ment-with the notable exception of computer technology applications! The old infrastructure that was basically supportive of the historic balance 4 Jim Dwyer, Books are for use? Keeping the faith in readings, The Acquisitions Librarian, 25(2001) : 65. Wolf : Building Library Collections : The Horse Is Riding Us ! 4 3 3 achieved in copyright law and inimical to the total commodification of information was being replaced with one that was more in line with the wishes of the new controlling elite. Jim Dwyer is just one of many who have written about the incredible budget cuts that libraries suffered over the past three decades, noting that The seventies also saw the widespread implementation of library automa- tion systems. Salespeople were sometimes able to bamboozle administrators into believing that library automation would save them money. Given the initial and ongoing costs of systems, some libraries found themselves reduc- ing acquisitions budgets or laying off staff in order to pay for automation. 5 And of course, most of those acquisition budgets were never restored. Since Big Publishing now manufactures most new information in a different format (one that they control significantly more than they did print materi- als), and our national love affair with the easy and packaged (fired by Big Publishing s cousin, Big Media) has convinced society of the necessity for progressing to a digital world, it only remains for the print troglodytes to die out. The automation infrastructure has been put in place at the cost of uncompromised research and print information (while there has been a decrease in the number of books purchased by libraries, there has been an increase in the number available) so that digitized information can be sold to the highest bidders and, more ominously, so that research, especially in the STM markets, can be more easily directed where the global corporations dictate. Remember that, Scientists and, increasingly, physicians are employees who rarely control the conditions under which they work, let alone the purposes to which their research eventually will be put. 6 Outside the Digital Box Librarians must learn to work outside of their comfort zone and take up the battle for content (including assistance in birthing it) across the widest spectrum that present formats purvey-including, of course, digital! We must re-dedicate ourselves to the hard and time-consuming work of content selection, the prioritization of content expenditures within budgetary param- eters (delaying, if necessary, automation and upgrades in favor of content), and preservation in all formats; or the independent research agenda and our democratic institutions will be further downsized. Nancy Kranich, past pres- ident of the American Library Association, recognizing Big Publishing s deplorable monopoly on ideas, implores us to build balanced collections by heavily investing in alternatives to the mainstream press. It is time we rec- 5 Ibid., pp. 64-65. 6 Op. Cit., John Jacobsen, p. 2. J o u r n a l o f E d u c a t i o n a l M e d i a & L i b r a r y S c i e n c e s , 4 0 4 ( J u n e 2 0 0 3 )4 3 4 ognize our own values and ensure that we have diverse collections that truly represent the full spectrum of published opinion and thought. 7 There can be no doubt that we have the most data-rich culture ever, but it is arrogantly presumptuous, and ultimately a dangerous intellectual gambit, to equate an abundance of data with a wealth of content. Knowledge, let alone wisdom, demands content not just data. The paperless library , so far, is data rich and imagination poor. Critical thinking will not survive in this type of institution: its degradation is already discernible in the sciences. As Einstein reputedly once said, Imagination is more important than knowl- edge. Understand that using a computer intelligently to access information requires substantial skills in critical thinking about how the information world is created, maintained, augmented; about who chooses the data pre- sented and what are their likely motives and agendas. Many librarians are re-discovering the value-laden role of readers advisor, and the need to help people find the best content, not simply the fastest delivered. Most comput- er users have no understanding of the global information industry and multi- national groups who have a vested interest in determining just what content is made available to the mass of digital supplicants, nor do they understand the content frailty of the unregulated internet. Librarians have the accent on the wrong syllable: the evaluation of documents must precede access! The great librarian and scholar, Bill Katz, recently lamented the hood- winking of the public s trust by the information industry infrastructure. Having commodified digital information to make money, they have duped the public into thinking that access to computerized data will render libraries useless and reading a quaint habit of the pre-digital age. Katz, in bemoaning this all too calculated dumbing-down process, warned that, Computers for the majority are masters, not servants. The masters are too rapidly substitut- ing casual bits of data for knowledge. 8 If the raison detre for libraries is to provide the widest possible spectrum of content, given financial parameters, to its clients, then libraries, and librarians, are failing their mission. Content selection has received less and less attention. The emphasis on 24/7 speed and the expectation of immedi- ate access has dulled policy makers into confusing speed for accuracy, pack- aging for content and ease of ordering for effective use of funds. Because we have allowed ourselves to be captured by big publishing, we expend over 90 percent of our budgets on only their point of view (and it s a very 7 Nancy Kranich, A Question of Balance: The role of libraries in providing alternatives to the mainstream media, Alternative Library Literature : A Biennial Anthology, eds. Sanford Berman and James P. Danky (Jefferson, N.C. : McFarland & Company, Inc., 2002), p. 111. 8 Bill Katz, Introduction : Remembrance of things past and future, The Acquisitions Librarian, 25 (2001) : 2. Wolf : Building Library Collections : The Horse Is Riding Us ! 4 3 5 narrow one, indeed, representing approximately only 10 percent of what book/journal presses produce). Charles Willett, founder of Counterpoise, relates that, Most librarians don t even know about the other presses, let alone how to track information about them and their publication lists. 9 Outsourcing Content Librarians delegate a majority of their selecting to library vendors through approval plan services, database licensing, and standing orders. In fact, librarians have been almost systematically disburdening themselves of the tasks of collection building for nearly three decades now because it takes so much time . And, with the arrival of automation and digital infor- mation, the transfer of building library collections to others is almost com- plete! David Bishop, Director of a major U.S. Research Library, comment- ed: given the nature of electronic resources being leased, not purchased, and both the economic and practical advantages of networked, jointly- owned materials, directors have already lost control of their collections, they just don t know it yet. 10 The new business model in Big Publishing is commodification and con- trol of all data and information, especially in the STM fields where the most money can be made and future technologies captured. The only major problem is that the high prices of information are impeding access, not to mention the advancement of knowledge, but this is of no real concern to the for-profit enterprises. It should be a concern, though, of higher education since it is rapidly becoming absorbed into the business model by refusing to get back to the basics of unfettered intellectual inquiry. For some disci- plines, where there is no commercial return, scholarship is either dying or drying up, while in the sciences the sellout is more advanced! No less a per- sonage than Clifford Lynch, Executive Director of the Center for Networked Information, has been decrying the fact that much of the information con- tent we are now licensing resides in silos, which cannot be integrated- mainly because the organizations that own it do not want to see it integrated. Finding ways to achieve integration of such proprietary scholarly informa- tion will be one of our major challenges. 11 Ironically, librarians and library organizations are often discounted as shrill when they take their profound 9 Ron Chepesiuk, Charles Willett : An Alternative American Voice in International Librarianship, Alternative Library Literature, 1998/99 : A Biennial Anthology, eds. Sanford Berman, & James P. Danky (Jefferson, N.C : McFarland & Co, Inc., 2001), pp. 26-27. 10 Sheila S. Inter, Impact of the Internet on collection development: where are we now? Where are we headed? An informal study, Library Collections, Acquisitions, & Technical Services, 25 (2001) : 312. 11 Ross Atkinson, ARL Conference on Collections and Access for the 21st Century Scholar : A forum to explore the roles of the Research Library: A brief report, Library Collections, Acquisitions, & Technical Services, 26 (2002) : 165. J o u r n a l o f E d u c a t i o n a l M e d i a & L i b r a r y S c i e n c e s , 4 0 4 ( J u n e 2 0 0 3 )4 3 6 concerns about protecting content and learning to state halls and capitals- not to mention the Washington, D.C. representatives of the people! Research Data Corruption In the sciences (STM), the pressures of commodification are leading to more publications being contaminated by data corruption, largely because of the significant financial stakes investigators have in the research outcome. William Rosenblum, a research neuropathologist, laments that Inevitably, pressures to produce more and publish more lead to the formation of larger research teams; so, too, does the legitimate desire to answer scientific ques- tions and the indisputable fact that modern scientific questions are often too complex to be answered by one person s tools. But reliance on larger and larger teams lead to an increasing inability to detect fraud and control sloppy data gathering. 12 Missing data, poor data collection, and outright falsifica- tion of data are on the rise. U.S. News & World Report, in a Special Investigative Report, stated that, Arthur M. Horowitz, a respected regula- tory consultant to medical companies, estimates that research fraud and mis- conduct occur in up to 5 percent of all trials. 13 Conclusion When Big Publishing and its economic elites captured the new technolo- gy of digital information, it focused its efforts on controlling scientific pub- lishing. While Western science has been a powerful contributor to the advancement and betterment of society, in general, the present capture of digital information by Big Business and the New World Order is stifling investigative inquiry and casting a dangerous pall over future advancements in intellectual thought. Already science is so compromised that scholarly communication is being imperiled and the outcome can only be a dire one to those who prefer democratic societies with diverse viewpoints. Building quality libraries that contain as much diverse content as possi- ble so that intellectual inquiry can be pursued will never be an inexpensive procedure, but if investigative inquiry is left in the hands of commodifica- tion the outcome will not only be contaminated research, but also a dehu- manized and less democratic social order. Both the marketplace (privatiza- tion) and government (for the public good) have mutually beneficial roles; however, when you come to issues of public safety (e.g., airport security, identity theft, a living wage, and intellectual research), the profit motive 12 William I. Rosenblum, What is an Author? The responsibilities of Authorship, Academe, 83 (November- December 1992) : 34. 13 Kit R. Roane, Replacement Parts, U.S. News & World Report, 133 : 4 (July 29,2002) : 57. Wolf : Building Library Collections : The Horse Is Riding Us ! 4 3 7 doesn t work. If the present conditions persist, the intellectual Maginot Line that we are constructing will be more of a threat to national security, as other parts of the world slip behind our arrogant fortifications to pursue our sup- pressed areas of research inquiry , than the wealth being generated by this present monopoly could possibly ever be worth. 4 3 8 
work_k7kzs4spvffj5hu2apzcmxl3ce	----	Type Specimens and Scientific Memory Critical Inquiry 31 (Autumn 2004) � 2004 by The University of Chicago. 0093-1896/04/3101-0004$10.00. All rights reserved. 153 Unless otherwise specified, all translations are my own. My thanks to Benjamin Kristek for research assistance, to Jean-Marc Drouin for an enlightening conversation, and to Abigail Lustig and Staffan Müller-Wille for perspicacious comments. 1. See Umberto Eco, “Languages in Paradise,” Serendipities: Language and Lunacy, trans. William Weaver (New York, 1998), p. 23. Type Specimens and Scientific Memory Lorraine Daston Now the whole earth had one language and few words. And as men migrated in the east, they found a plain in the land of Shinar and settled there. And they said to one another, “Come, let us make bricks, and burn them thoroughly.” And they had brick for stone, and bitumen for mortar. Then they said, “Come, let us build ourselves a city, and a tower with its top in the heavens, and let us make a name for ourselves, lest we be scattered abroad upon the face of the whole earth.” And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the sons of men had built. And the Lord said, “Behold, they are one people, and they have all one language; and this is only the beginning of what they will do; and nothing that they propose to do will now be impossible for them. Come, let us go down, and there confuse their language, that they may not understand one another’s speech.” So the Lord scattered them abroad from there over the face of all the earth, and they left off building the city. Therefore its name was called Babel, because there the Lord confused the language of all the earth; and from there the Lord scattered them abroad over the face of all the earth. —Genesis, 11:1–9 After Babel Botany is the science that strives to undo the mischief of Babel. Botanists have no interest in restoring the purity of the prelapsarian language of par- adise, in which Adam called the beasts of the field and the fowl of the air and presumably also the plants of the meadow “‘by their own names,’”those proper to them in the deepest possible sense.1 They are untroubled by the yawning gap between word and thing and the conventionalism of linguistic signs. It is true that, since at least the eighteenth century, botanists have repeatedly tried to dictate the right way to name a plant; the great Swedish botanist Carlolus von Linnaeus, for example, discouraged all metaphors and irony and permitted analogies to human body parts only if these were external or well known to everyone (so Fungus penis, but not Orchis fallo- piana).2 Nineteenth-century botanists for their part found many Linnaean names fanciful or indelicate and set down their own rules, such as don’t name genera after people who have nothing to do with botany; use names 2. See Carlolus von Linnaeus, Critica botanica (1737), trans. Arthur Hort and M. L. Green (London, 1938), aphorisms 296, 299, pp. 177, 182; hereafter abbreviated CB. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 154 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 3. Alphonse de Candolle, Lois de la nomenclature botanique (Paris, 1867), art. 28.4–5, p. 20; hereafter abbreviated L. 4. As the 1999 InternationalCode of Botantical Nomenclature (Saint Louis Code) states in its preamble, “This Code aims at the provision of a stable method of naming taxonomic groups, avoiding and rejecting the use of names which may cause error or ambiguity or throw science into confusion. Next in importance is the avoidance of the useless creation of names.” Even names defined as illegitimate by the rules may be conserved (nomina conservanda) to “avoid disadvantageous nomenclatural changes” (InternationalCode of Botantical Nomenclature [Saint Louis Code], ed. W. Greuter et al., http://www.bgbm.org/IAPT/Nomenclature/Code/SaintLouis, preamble, art. 14.1; hereafter abbreviated SLC). 5. See Candolle’s chart on p. 9. The example cited by Candolle was taken from George Bentham and Joseph Dalton Hooker, Genera plantarum, 3 vols. (London, 1862–83), vol. 1, fasc. 1–2. derived from “barbarous languages” only if they are “easily adapted to the Latin language and to the languages of civilized countries.”3 But once a name, however vulgar or obscure or downright misleading, has been at- tached by botanical tradition, it can be changed only for the weightiest of reasons.4 Natural historical nomenclature is a convention that aspires to the permanence of nature itself. What botanists fear is not convention but the proliferation of many names for the same plant species, genus, or other taxon, a confusion of language for which the technical term is synonymy. The curse of Babel was visited upon them rather late, at least by the standards of Genesis; only in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries did botanists begin to complain about the multiplication ofnamesfor the sameentity.Bythe1860s anxiety over galloping synonymy (100 new genera had, for example, yielded 117 synonyms [see L, p. 8])5 galvanized botanists into action, and in 1867 they instituted a long and still ongoing series of international codes of no- menclature, named for the cities—Paris, Vienna, Tokyo, Saint Louis—in which they were hammered out, sometimes amidst loud controversy.These codes sought and still seek to stabilize the names of plants, to re-create the “one language and few words” of the time before God put a stop to tower building in the plain of Shinar. At stake was the continuity of botanical knowledge over centuries and continents. This is why Jean-Jacques Rous- seau, an avid botanist in later life, railed against opponents of Linnaean nomenclature, although he himself entertained doubts about the Linnaean system of classification: Lorraine Daston is the director at the Max Planck Institute for the History of Science, Berlin. Her recent publications include (with Katharine Park) Wonders and the Order of Nature, 1150–1750 (1998), Wunder, Beweise, und Tatsachen: Zur Geschichte der Rationalität (2001), and (coedited with Fernando Vidal) The Moral Authority of Nature (2004). This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 155 6. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, “Fragmens pour un dictionnaire des termes d’usage en botanique” (1781), Oeuvres complètes, ed. Bernard Gagnebin and Marcel Raymond, 5 vols. (Paris, 1999), 4:1209; quoted in Jean-Marc Drouin, “Les Herborisations d’un philosophe: Rousseau et la botanique savante,” in Rousseau et les sciences, ed. Bernadette Bensaude-Vincent and Bruno Bernardi (Paris, 2003), p. 86. 7. There are many parallels between modern botanical and zoological codes of nomenclature, as a result of shared challenges and mutual influences. I have however chosen to concentrate on botany, in part because of significant divergences in practices by circa 1850 and in part because important technical advances in the preservation of specimens in botanical and zoological collections have different chronologies. On divergences, see Peter F. Stevens, “Metaphors and Typology in the Development of Botanical Systematics 1690–1960, or the Art of Putting New Wine in Old Bottles,” Taxon 33 (May 1984): 169–211; on taxidermy, see Paul Lawrence Farber, “The Development of Ornithological Collections in the Late Eighteenth and Early Nineteenth Centuries and Their Relevance to the Emergence of Ornithology as a Scientific Discipline,” Journal of the Society of the Bibliography of Natural History 9, no. 4 (1980): 391–94. It is a matter of whether three hundred years of study and observation must be lost to botany, whether three hundred volumes of figures and descriptions must be cast into the fire, whether the knowledge acquired by all those savants who consecrated their fortunes, their life, and their pains to vast, costly, and perilous voyages must remain useless to their successors, and whether a single person always starting from zero will be able to attain by himself the same knowledge that a long series of re- searches and studies have disseminated to the mass of the human spe- cies.6 Botanical nomenclature is an art of transmission that makes a certain kind of science possible. Clarity about just what kind of science and therefore what kind of art of transmission is in order here. We often habitually oppose the humanities to the sciences along the axis of tradition versus progress: the humanities are portrayed as conservers of texts in editions or objects in museums, guardians of living cultural memory; the sciences, by contrast, as endlessly overthrowing old theories by new, deliberate amnesiacs about any disci- plinary past older than yesterday’s issue of Science or Nature. But botany (like all the sciences once collectively designated as natural history)7 is both traditional and progressive, a science of museums as well as of breaking news in scientific journals. Since the sixteenth century, botanists have been drying and pressing plants between the leaves of bound volumes known as herbaria, which are carefully preserved for consultation in major research institutions such as the Muséum Nationale d’Histoire Naturelle in Paris, the Botanisches Museum in Berlin, or the Linnaean Society in London (which still holds Linnaeus’s own collection). Like art historians writing a monograph on van Eyck or Cézanne who travel to the museums holding original paintings, botanists travel to the herbaria containing the ur-spec- This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.2307%2F1221161&citationId=p_n_8 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.3366%2Fjsbnh.1980.9.4.391&citationId=p_n_9 156 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 8. On the history of taxonomy and nomenclature in botany and zoology, see Annette Diekmann, Klassifikation—System—“scalanaturae”: Das Ordnen der Objekte in Naturwissenschaft und Pharmazie zwischen 1700 und 1850 (Stuttgart, 1992); Stevens, The Development of Biological Systematics: Antoine-Laurent de Jussieu, Nature, and the Natural System (New York, 1994); Richard V. Melville, Towards Stability in the Names of Animals: A History of the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature 1895–1995 (Dorchester, 1995); Staffan Müller-Wille, Botanik und weltweiter Handel: Zur Begründung eines natürlichen Systems der Pflanzen durch Carl von Linné (1707–78) (Berlin, 1999); and Farber, Finding Order in Nature: The Naturalist Tradition from Linnaeus to E. O. Wilson (Baltimore, 2000). 9. See Lorraine Daston, “The Historicity of Science,” in Historicization-Historisierung,ed. Glenn W. Most (Göttingen, 2001), pp. 201–21. 10. Alexander von Humboldt, Cosmos, trans. E. C. Otté and W. S. Dallas, 5 vols. (1844; New York, 1850–59), 1:xi–xii. imens of the species under study—the type specimens or “holotypes” to which the original description and name is anchored. Yet botany is also regularly convulsed by the Saint Vitus’s dance of scientific change.Thebases of classification are matters of ongoing theoretical reflection and empirical inquiry and, since the eighteenth century, have been shaken by a succession of novelties. Whether taxonomists embrace the Baupläne of morphology, the phylogenies of Darwinism, the traits of cladistics, or the genealogies of mitochondrial DNA may have potentially seismic consequences for the boundaries and interrelationships of taxa.8 The stabilization of botanical nomenclature was meant to reconcile sci- entific memory and amnesia. On the side of amnesia, it guaranteed neither the permanence of theories nor the finitude of discovery, though some sci- entists still longed for both. The mid-nineteenth-century movement to combat synonymy through elaborate codes of botanical nomenclature co- incided with a more general scientific awakening to the unsettling fact that progress in their disciplines would not only be expansive, adding new ter- ritories of knowledge to domains already securely conquered, but open- ended and revolutionary.9 In his monumental 1844 survey of the state of the sciences, German naturalist Alexander von Humboldt reflected sadly on ephemeral science: It has often been a discouraging consideration, that while purely literary products of intellectual activity are rooted in the depth of feelings and interwoven with the creative force of the imagination, all works treating of empirical knowledge, and of the connection of natural phenomena and physical laws are subject to the most marked modifications of form in the lapse of short periods of time, both by improvement in the in- struments used, and by the consequent expansion of the field of view opened to rational observation, and that those scientific works which have, to use a common expression, become antiquated by the acquisi- tion of new funds of knowledge, are thus continually being consigned to oblivion as unreadable.10 This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 157 11. See Candolle, La Phytographie (Paris, 1880), p. xi. 12. Although I will follow general usage in referring to holotypes and type specimens interchangeably, some botanists have used the latter term to refer collectively to all the specimens used to establish a type (for example, paratype, syntype, epitype, lectotype, and so on), whereas the former term is reserved for “a single specimen (or fragment) upon which a species is based” (Donald Leslie Frizell, “Terminology of Types,” American Midland Naturalist 14 [1933]: 652). See also Wörterbuch der Botanik: Die Termini in ihrem historischen Zusammenhang, ed. Gerhard Wagenitz (Jena, 1996), pp. 180, 387. On the side of memory, the first international codes of botanical nomen- clature were explicitly formulated as responses to what Swiss botanist Al- phonse de Candolle called “the continual and necessary changes inscience” (L, p. 11). Echoing von Humboldt’s sigh over the short shelf life of scientific publications, Candolle urged his colleagues to resign themselves to the hard fact that years hence all that would endure from their lifelong work would be descriptions of plants—11 and even these would be lost if the names at- tached to them were allowed to proliferate or wander. But how to turn back the chaos of Babel and insure that one and only one name was affixed to every known plant species?The interestofbotanical nomenclature as an art of transmission lies not in its ends, which are to insure continuity and fixity of reference across generations and around the world, but in its means. The name of a botanical species does not inhere in the population of all members of that species, nor in some abstracted pro- totype or essence of the species, but rather in a single, concrete individual specimen that has been designated by the person who first publishesanewly discovered species as its holotype or type specimen, ideally for all time.12 Instead of using names to subsume particulars under what John Locke called “general ideas,” the general idea, or what in logic as well as in natural history has for millennia been called the “species,” has here been mapped onto a particular individual. This is a radical solution to the several prob- lems of how to compress the many into one, to render the abstract via the concrete, and to tether words to things and hence akin to dilemmas of po- litical representation, literary personification (or, for that matter, theolog- ical incarnation), and linguistic reference. Of course the botanists, who haltingly and heatedly debated the codes of botanical nomenclature that eventually laid down the type method for preserving the stability of names, were primarily concerned with practices, not philosophy.Yetitwasprecisely their gradual articulation of a set of practices (publishing, labeling, travel- ing, referencing, compiling) centered on a collection of objects (type spec- imens), that is, an art of transmission, that turned the code articles on nomenclatural types into a remarkable act of applied metaphysics, or so I shall argue. I shall do so first by explaining what modern type specimens in botany This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 158 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 13. John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. Peter H. Nidditch (1690; Oxford, 1975), 3.3.2, p. 414. 14. See Stanwyn G. Shetler, An Introduction to the Botanical Type Specimen Register (Washington, D.C., 1973), p. 6. 15. See Farber, “The Type-Concept in Zoology during the First Half of the Nineteenth Century,” Journal of the History of Biology 9 (Spring 1976): 97. do and how they do it. They are the foundation of a taxonomical pyramid that links the individual plant to the plant kingdom through ascendingtaxa of ever greater generality; each level of the hierarchy is typified by a desig- nated representative at the next lower level: the species bythetypespecimen, the genus by the type species, and so on. The unbroken transmission of the names of plant species depends on this type method, which was first ad- vanced in the late nineteenth century and only gradually adopted through a series of international codes of botanical nomenclature from 1867 to 1999 that at once dictate and reflect approved botanicalpractices.Somehistorical background, provided in the next section, of the origins of the type method is needed in order to appreciate how the modern type specimen achieved its paradoxical status as a concrete abstraction, in nearly diametrical op- position to earlier botanical conceptions and practices linking individual specimens with the type of the species. In conclusion, I return to the im- plications of the type specimen as a case of metaphysics in action. Type Specimens Are Not Typical Whereby it is evident, that the Essences of the sorts, or (if the Latin word please bet- ter) Species of Things, are nothing else but these abstract Ideas. —John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690)13 Some of the most precious holdings of major natural history museums around the world are rarely if ever displayed to the public. These are the museums’ collections of type specimens, which by edict serve as the last court of appeal in all questions and disputes about species definition,mem- bership, and names. In a modern collection, type specimens are ordinarily flagged by a color-coded system, housed in fireproof rooms, and consulted only by specialists under the watchful eyes of curators. Should, despitethese precautions, brittle specimens crumble as herbarium pages are turned and flattened for use, fragments are to be painstakingly collected and kept (fig. 1). Because botanists must return again and again to these touchstones whenever nomenclatural and classificatory questions are raised, ambitious databases like the Botanical Type Specimen Register attempt to locate and catalogue the holotypes held by public herbaria, estimated at perhaps four million specimens scattered over a thousand herbaria worldwide.14 For zoologists, such collections were first made possible by late eigh- teenth- and early nineteenth-century developments intaxidermy,15 butbot- This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). figure 1. Holotype of species Peucedanum paucifolium with fragments preserved. Courtesy of the Botanisches Museum, Berlin, B100086233. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 160 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 17. Walter T. Swingle, “Types of Species in Botanical Taxonomy,” Science, n.s., 37, no. 962 (1913): 864–65. 18. See Pierre-Joseph Redouté, Les Liliacées, 8 vols. (Paris, 1802–16). anists had kept herbaria—called hortus siccus, “dry” or “winter garden”— since the Renaissance.16 Yet only in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries that did museums begin to mark, conserve, and register the type specimens, many of them already preserved for over a century but not here- tofore singled out for special attention, with fastidious care. Circa 1900 ad- monitions begin to appear in scientific publications: Types are the most valuable possession of museums and constantly in- crease in value as years elapse. They should not be left in the herbarium with the ordinary specimens, but should be so mounted as to be pro- tected from injury in handling and should be kept in fire-proof cases, if possible in a special room where they may be consulted in the presence of a custodian who can help preserve all fragments of the type mate- rial.17 Not all type specimens are in fact actual plants, though most are. If a plant is difficult to preserve in a herbarium (or if the author of a species provides a figure but not a holotype in the original description), an illus- tration may become the type specimen (“iconotype”)—as in the case of the Liliaceae family, which includes daffodils, hyacinths, and other plants hard to flatten onto the pages of a herbarium because of their fleshy stalks (for some of these the magnificent colored engravings of Pierre-JosephRedouté serve as the type specimens).18 Special rules also govern fossil plant speci- mens, which are usually fragmentary, and microorganisms that must be preserved in cultures or on microscope slides (see SLC, art. 8.3–5). For the most part, however, type specimens are dried, flattened plants mounted on the pages of a herbarium (fig. 2). The botanists’ preference for herbarium specimens over even the most faithful illustration goes back at least to Lin- naeus. To the untutored eye, botanical type specimens are as unprepos- sessing as relics are to the nondevout; the dessicated plants have lost much of their color and form, and it takes considerable training to be able to match a herbarium specimen with the living plant observed in nature. The type specimens are nonetheless regarded as unique and irreplaceable, the ultimate guarantee of the integrity of botanical names. 16. The term herbarium was originally a book of medical plants; Joseph Tournefort applied the word to mean a hortus siccus (allegedly invented by Bologna professor Luca Ghini in the early sixteenth century) in 1700 and by the late eighteenth century herbarium had become the standard term. See William Thomas Stern, “An Introduction to the Species plantarum and Cognate Botanical Works of Carl Linnaeus,” in Linnaeus, “Species plantarum”: A Facsimile of the First Edition, 2 vols. (1753; London, 1957), 1:103. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.37.962.864&citationId=p_n_22 figure 2. Holotype and syntype of species Cyathea mexicana. Courtesy of the Botanisches Museum, Berlin, B200126446. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 162 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 20. Thomas Aquinas, Summa theologica, 5 vols. (Turin, 1922), IIa–ae, 153.12, 4:141–42; compare Augustine, Confessions, trans. R. S. Pine-Coffin (Harmondsworth, 1961), 3.8, p. 65. 21. See “The Linnaean Database,” http://www.nhm.ac.uk/botany/linnaean/Introduction.html. The first edition of the Species plantarum (1753) was officially accepted as the starting point for botanical nomenclature for all groups of vascular plants at the International Botanical Congress of 1905 at Vienna; see Stern, “An Introduction to the Species plantarum and Cognate Botanical Works of Carl Linnaeus,” p. 4. The starting point for zoological nomenclature is the tenth edition of Linnaeus’s Systema naturae (1758). Indeed, it is the name of the species, rather than the species itself, that is directly attached to the type specimen. Boundaries of species (and higher taxa) change with new discoveries and new classification schemes; names may not. The singularity of the type specimen safeguards the permanence of the name. And it is the priority of publication (by the author of the spe- cies) that in turn assures the strict singularity of the specimen. A luxuriant growth of terminology (lectotype, syntype, paratype, epitype, neotype) sur- rounds the type specimen (SLC, art. 9),19 but the root concept is that of the holotype, which bears the species name: “A holotype of a name of a species or infraspecific taxon is the one specimen or illustration used by the author, or designated by the author as the nomenclatural type. As long as aholotype is extant, it fixes the application of the name concerned” (SLC, art. 9.1). The phrase “author of the species” sounds faintly blasphemous. Saint Thomas Aquinas (following Augustine) after all described God as the “au- thor of nature,” the drawer of species boundaries.20 Although the theolog- ical pretensions of modern botanists are doubtless modest or nonexistent, the legislative force of botanical naming, accompanied by a description of the new entity and a designation of its type, does recall divine fiat in some of its aspects. There is even a stipulated moment of creation, when the tra- dition of botanical naming begins: the magisterial Species plantarum (1753) of Linnaeus, containing some six thousand names of plant species and va- rieties and exemplifying the system of binomial nomenclature thathassince become standard.21 As in all acts of baptism, the giving of names to individuals involves a fiat, an act of will, and the will of the author is of moment in assigning a holotype. Should the author have failed to designate a holotype in the first publication (as was more the rule than the exception prior to the latter half of the nineteenth century, for reasons that are explained below), a lectotype must be selected posthumously in order to secure the name by an individual specimen. In such cases, no pains may be spared in order to divine what might have been the author’s intentions in this regard. The SaintLouisCode 19. See also, for the history of this terminology, Charles Schuchert, “What Is a Type in Natural History?” Science, n.s., 5, no. 121 (1897): 636–40. At one point botanists found themselves in the absurd position of combating the synonymy of the type terminology, itself introduced to combat the synonymy of nomenclature; see Frizzell, “Terminology of Types,” pp. 637–40. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.5.121.636&citationId=p_n_27 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 163 22. Sometimes two or more specimens are designated by the author of a species as its types; these are called syntypes. Specimens cited in the original publication but that are designated neither as the holotype nor as syntypes are known as paratypes (SLC, art. 9.4–5). admonishes those charged with the choice of a lectotype to pay close atten- tion to the author’s original description, to cultivate “an understanding of the author’s method of working,” to take account ofthe factthattherelevant specimens may not be preserved in the author’s own herbarium, to sift the author’s “manuscript notes, annotations on herbarium sheets,recognizable figures, and epithets such as typicus, genuinus, etc.” for any clue to the au- thor’s intent (SLC, art. 9.A.1–5). The author’s mainmort extends even after the designation of lectotype; ordinarily, the lectotype must be followed,un- less “any of the original material [used by the author] is rediscovered,” in which case the author once again rules from beyond the grave (SLC, art. 9.17). No court investigates the unrecorded intentions of past legislators with more care than botanists searching for indications of an author’s un- published preferences with regard to a type specimen. Botanists may not create their species, but they author them in a strong sense, belied by the figurative but borne out by the literal sense of a “nominal author”—here, the author of a name. This fixation on holotypes and authorial intentions is the precondition for the fixity of botanical names. A single specimen designated by a first author with an accompanying name, description, andperhapsafigurecom- bats the scourge of synonymy—the result of multiple authors describing multiple specimens with multiple names. Since the only link between spec- imen, description, and name is the author, the integrity of the matchamong these elements depends on the coherence of the author’s intent—which is hence assumed to be monolithic and declared to be almighty. The price for this coherence with respect to names and referents is a great deal of con- tingency elsewhere: the description may be ambiguous, the Latin binomial name may be ungrammatical or unsuitable, the figure poorlyexecuted,and, above all, the holotype unrepresentative. The rule that the type specimen must be a single plant, gathered at a particular time and place, is especially problematic for species that are polymorphous, sexually dimorphic, or ex- hibit distinct developmental stages. But even plants without these features are unlikely to yield representative holotypes, if only because the author of a new species is often unfamiliar with the full range of variation within the species, just because it is new.22 From the standpoint of standard notions of typicality, as well as from that of earlier botanical practice, the status of the modern type specimen is therefore puzzling, even paradoxical. Under some philosophical construc- tions, the very term type specimen is an oxymoron. A specimen is one of This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 164 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 24. On the relationships between botanists and horticulturalists, see Abigail J. Lustig, “The Creation and Uses of Horticulture in Britain and France in the Nineteenth Century” (Ph.D. diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1997). 25. See Charles Darwin, On the Origin of Species (1859; Cambridge, Mass., 1964), pp. 44–59. those natural particulars Locke believed it was the office of language to sub- sume under general ideas, lest the understanding drown in detail: “Every Bird, and Beast Men saw; every Tree, and Plant, that affected the Senses, could not find a place in the most capacious Understanding.”23 In contrast, a type is a one of those “Patterns or Forms”—whether its origins are Pla- tonic metaphysics, Lockean experience, or Kantian epistemology—to which particular things are compared and sorted accordingly. A type spec- imen however need not be and, because of circumstances surrounding the identification of a new species, often is not typical of the species it instan- tiates, as the 1999 Saint Louis Code states explicitly: “The nomenclatural type is not necessarily the most typical or representative element of a taxon” (SLC, art. 7.2). Yet even if it is not a type in the sense of a prototype or an archetype or even an abstraction, the type specimen instantiates a class of entities, a class that itself is the prototype of what is meant by a natural kind: the organic species. The defining characteristics of the entire species are laid down with reference to the type specimen, an individual plant chosen more or less at random—in most cases because it is among the first to be encountered by a botanist exploring a new locale. Botanists do not harbor any illusions that a random sample of one is likely to be a perfect microcosm of the species macrocosm, any more than statisticians would willingly trust inferences drawn on such a tiny sample. For centuries, botanists have been acutely aware of variability within a single plant species or evenvariety,ofthe“mon- sters” created by the horticulturalist’s art, and of nature’s own sports, lusus naturae (see CB, aphorism 310, p. 196, and L, p. 37).24 Darwinian theories of individual variation through mutation as the motor of evolution have only sharpened this awareness of individual deviations from the species norm.25 The type specimen is only accidentally, not essentially, a represen- tative sample of the species. How else could an individual be said to define a class? Type specimens turn the traditional logic of abstract ideas as the basis for the classification of particulars on its head, defy the canons ofreliablesamplingandinference, and are emphatically not prototypes or archetypes or anything else smack- ing of the Platonic. Nor are they triumphs of nominalism: individualplants represent species; they do not, so to speak, supplant them. These are not just the puzzles of post hoc philosophizing; they bedeviled the botanists 23. Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, 3.3.2, p. 409. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 165 26. See William Whewell, The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, 2 vols. (London, 1847), 1:508. On older plant names considered vulgar, see D. Gledhill, The Names of Plants (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 2–3. 27. On Linnaeus’s sources (specimens, illustrations, and descriptions), see Stern, “An Introduction to the Species Plantarum and Cognate Botanical Works of Carl Linnaeus,” pp. 65–74. Linnaeus often changed diagnostic specific names he had used in earlier publications when a new specimen or illustration came to his attention; see ibid., p. 87. 28. “Linnaean Data Base: Introduction and Historical Perspective,” http://www.nhm.ac.uk/ botany/linnaean/Introduction.html.The project seeks to establish type species for those 30 themselves as they attempted to find a way out of the crisis of synonymy in the late nineteenth century. Their previous use of descriptions,illustrations, and herbarium specimens to define species had centered around the very notions of typicality and practices of idealization later subverted by type specimens. The gap between old and new views of types and specimens measures the magnitude of the transformation wrought by fusing the two into a seemingly impossible hybrid, the type specimen. On the Origins of Species Names Wherefore the Botanist is distinguished from the layman by the fact that the former is able to give a name which fits one particular plant and not another, and which can be understood by anyone all the world over. —Carlolus von Linnaeus, Critica botanica, aphorism 210, p. 1 Botanists are those who know how to name all plants. Linnaeus himself named thousands of them, but he used methods that by the early twentieth century appeared arbitrary and even reckless to the botanists who still reck- oned his Species plantarum as the proper starting point of scientific botan- ical nomenclature. It was not so much the names themselves that offended later sensibilities, although eyebrows were raised over the propriety of, for example, naming a climbing plant after one Mr. Bannister because he had climbed mountains.26 But for the most part botanists writing a century or more after Linnaeus were content to keep the by then familiar Linnaean names, however obscure or downright silly: “Today such abuses are legiti- mated by a hundred years of usage” (L, p. 37). The problem for botanists after circa 1900 was rather that Linnaeus and other earlier botanists had failed to designate holotypes for their species; indeed, their whole way of working was squarely at odds with the precepts and practices of the type specimen. As one current project to assign holotypes retroactively to Lin- naean species notes ruefully, Linnaeus used not just one but several her- barium specimens, plus descriptions and illustrations of earlier authors, and sometimes live plants for his descriptions:27 “Consequently, there is rarely any single type specimen in existence, and typification involves iden- tifying each of these original elements, before a choice is made.”28 This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 166 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 29. See Zeno G. Swijtink, “The Objectification of Observation: Measurement and Statistical Methods in the Nineteenth Century,” in The Probabilistic Revolution, ed. Lorenz Krüger, Daston, and Michael Heidelberger (Cambridge, Mass., 1987), pp. 261–85. 30. See Pierre-Simon Laplace, Essai philosophique sur les probabilités (1814), in Oeuvres complètes de Laplace, 14 vols. (Paris, 1878–1912), 7:xlviii–ix. Methods that now provoke exasperation among botanists trying to connect a species name with a type specimen were for Linnaeus and his con- temporaries a matter of professional pride. Eighteenth-andearlynineteenth- century naturalists would have condemned a colleague so rash as to pin the identity of a species to a single specimen if other materials were available. Because natural phenomena, flora and fauna very muchincluded,exhibited considerable variability, naturalists worthy of the name based their species descriptions on as wide a range of specimens as possible. Only seasoned judgment based on broad experience could distinguish the genuinely char- acteristic in any given phenomenon. These views were shared not only by the majority of eighteenth-century botanists but also by contemporary practitioners of other descriptive sci- ences, such as anatomy, conchology, entomology, anthropology, and ge- odesy. These were the sciences of the trained eye, accustomed by years of experience to distinguish the essential from the accidental, the normalfrom the pathological, the typical from the anomalous, the variablefrom thecon- stant. In principle, this was just as much a problem for the observational astronomer as for the field naturalist. The astronomers who trackedcomets with telescopes were plagued by observations that strayed from any smooth path—hence the habit, continued well into the nineteenth century, of dis- carding outliers.29 In the context of a mathematical theory of observational error, Pierre-Simon Laplace imagined underlying constant causes, like the universal law of gravitation, upon which were superimposed a swarm of variable causes, ranging from the quality of the scientific instrument to the incalculable perturbations due to three or more massive bodies.30 Although few naturalists followed Laplace in developing a metaphysics of variability, they concurred that their task was to extract the truths of nature from the welter of confusing appearances. There is of course an audibly Platonic ring to the language of truthsome- how underlying appearances, noumena undergirding phenomena. This percent of Linnaean names still lacking them. See Stern, “An Introduction to the Species Plantarum and Cognate Botanical Works of Carl Linnaeus,” pp. 103–24, 125–34. Zoologist Ernst Mayr notes that Linnaeus never designated any type specimens for his zoological species either and warns that because it “was customary in several European museums in the first half of the nineteenth century to substitute ‘new’ type-specimens whenever the old ones became faded or were damaged by insect pests. . . . Evidence from old types must be treated with extreme care and discrimination and never be used to upset stable nomenclature” (Ernst Mayr, Principles of Systematic Zoology [New York, 1969], p. 368). This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 167 31. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, “Erfahrung und Wissenschaft” [composed 1768], Goethes Werke (“Hamburger Ausgabe”), ed. Dorothea Kuhn and Rike Wankmüller, 13 vols. (1981; Munich, 1994), 13:23–24. 32. See Albrecht von Haller, Icones anatomicae, 2 vols. (Göttingen, 1756), vol. 2, fasc. V, f. A2.r–v. language of hidden simplicity under manifest complexity was as well suited to the sciences of stars and crystals as to those of plants and insects. But naturalists need not have subscribed to a metaphysics of ideal forms or, indeed, any metaphysics at all to ground their practices. Theirs was a truth of synthetic perception, of the ability to detect a common form uniting many individual exemplars of a kind. Falsehood sprang from inexperience and unripe judgment—as when Linnaeus reproached the French botanist Joseph Tournefort for having needlessly multiplied species of flowers, “93 Tulips (where there is only one) and 63 Hyacinths (wheretherearebuttwo)” (CB, aphorism 259, p. 122). In his morphological and methodological writ- ings Johann Wolfgang von Goethe called such truths “archetypes” or “pure phenomena”: “There are, as I note especially in the fields in which I work, many empirical fragments, that one must throw away in order to hold fast to the pure, constant phenomenon. . . . In order to represent it [the pure phenomenon] the human mind stabilizes the empirical vacillations, ex- cludes the accidental, sunders the impure, develops the confused, discovers the unknown.”31 What Goethe theorized, a myriad of less contemplative naturalists of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries practiced; they sought to con- dense and integrate a legion of individual impressions into a “true” rep- resentation, in both words and images, of the natural kind in question. The Göttingen anatomist Albrecht von Haller exclaimed over the variety of ar- teries, which defied uniform description or even comprehensive naming. Only the experience of dissecting many corpsescouldinstructtheanatomist in what was typical for the “perfect” human body, what deviant. And even his own prodigious labors and patience had not sufficed to compare all the diverse branchings of the arteries in one body with those of others so as to eliminate the singular.32 In such cases, the judgment of the naturalist and the art of the illustrator lay in knowing what to omit from a woodcut or engraving, as well as from the description of the natural object in question. Linnaeus exhorted his fellow botanists to eliminate all variable aspects of plants, such as color, from both specific characters and illustrations: “How many volumes have you [other botanists] written of specific names taken from colour? What tons of copper have you destroyed in making unnec- essary plates? What vast sums of money have you enticed fraudulently, as it appears, from other men’s pockets, the purchasers to wit, on the strength of colour alone?” (CB, aphorism 266, p. 139). According to Linnaeus, the This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 168 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 33. Lodolf Treviranus, Die Anwendung des Holzschnittes zur bildlichen Darstellung von Pflanzen (1855; Utrecht, 1949), p. 2. 34. Matthias Jacob Schleiden, Die Botanik als induktive Wissenschaft (Leipzig, 1845), p. 105. 35. Joshua Reynolds, “To the Idler” (1759), Discourses, ed. Helen Zimmern (London, 1887), p. 280. satisfactory botanical illustration “represents the plant as it were in a mir- ror”—but a mirror that filtered out all features except “Number, Shape, Position, and Proportion” (CB, aphorism 282, pp. 162, 161). It was the rule for anatomists and naturalists to supervise their artists and engravers closely, so that naturalism—the depiction of an individual specimen in all its peculiarities, exactly as it appeared to the eye—did not overwhelm the realism of the type. The nineteenth-centuryhistorianofbot- any Lodolf Treviranus insisted on the responsibility of the scientisttomoni- tor the artist in every detail: “The drawing must therefore not only give exactest expression to the outlines, but also the form and direction of the stem, joints, the location and direction of the hairs; it must especially rep- resent the characteristic veins of the leaf, and therefore must never be made without the superintendence of a scientific expert.”33 MatthiasJacobSchlei- den, pioneer of botanical microscopy, was scathing in his criticisms of a colleague, Heinrich Friedrich Link, who had allowed his draughtsman to conduct observations “all alone”; the result was, according to Schleiden, drawings that confused the reader “through lots of false views [Anschauun- gen].”34 A definitive image in anatomy, botany, or entomology was not a naturalistic rendering of any individual, but a composite image based upon but not in any mechanical way composed from numerous observations of the same natural kind. Coeval artists and critics like Joshua Reynolds saw little difference between artist and naturalist in this respect: “Thus amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the same tree, though no two can be found exactly alike, the general form is invariable: a Naturalist, before he chose one as a sample, would examine many. . . . He selects as the Painter does, the most beautiful, that is, the most general form of nature.”35 The water- color studies of leaf types (“corduta,” “reniformia,” “triloba,” and so on) of celebrated botanical illustrator Franz Bauer, who spent most of his long career at Kew Gardens, bear witness to this generalizing impulse (fig. 3). The “most general form of nature” did not necessarily commit the nat- uralist to any metaphysics of Platonic ideas or Aristotelian essences as the basis for organic species. On the contrary, the ways eighteenth- and early nineteenth-century botanists defined species and other higher taxa was, in the modern term, polythetic, that is, basedonseveraltraitscommontomany but not all members of the class, rather than on an essential trait shared by each and every one of them—a practice similar to Wittgenstein’s notion of This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). figure 3. Franz Bauer (1758–1840), Aquarelle of leaf types, Nachlass, Bd. VIII, p. 8. Courtesy of the Niedersächsische Staats- und UniversitätsbibliothekGöttingen. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 170 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 40. Auguste-Pyramus de Candolle [father of Alphonse de Candolle], Théorie élémentaire de la botanique (Paris, 1813), p. 287. 41. Louis Agassiz, Methods of Study in Natural History (1863; Boston, 1889), p. 139. 42. Whewell, The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, 1:494–95. definition by family resemblance.36 Within the context of botanical and zo- ological classification during this period, the word type was used in multiple senses, ranging from an exemplar that embodied the characteristics of a larger class (for example, a type species standing for a whole genus or a type genus for a family) to a morphological archetype or “Bauplan” underlying multiple taxa.37 So, for example, a particular herbarium specimen of Aster novae-angliae might be described as a prototype ofthespecies,38 orthegenus ardisia might be designated the “type of the new familyoftheArdisiaceae.”39 Or a collection of color figures of plants drawn from life “as perfectly as possible” might be proposed as “types of the species” to be preserved for consultation at libraries and universities.40 At the other extreme, Harvard naturalist Louis Agassiz might claim that “every individual, though be- longing to a distinct Species, is built upon a precise and definite plan which characterizes its Branch.”41 Until the latter half of the nineteenth century, both the language and the practices of types in natural history admitted considerable variation. But this range of variation did not include the possibility of an atypical type, as the term was then used. At every taxonomic level, a type could serve as the example of the next higher taxon (so an individual for a species, a species for a genus, a genus for a family, and so on) only if it were genuinely exemplary of the key features of the larger class. British physicist and phi- losopher of science William Whewell offered a lapidary definition of the type in natural history: “A Type is an example of any class, for instance, a species of a genus, which is considered as eminently possessing the char- acters of the class. . . . The Type-species of every genus, the Type-genus of every family, is, then, one which possesses all the characters and properties of the genus in a marked and prominent manner.”42 Whewell (who as mas- ter of Trinity College, Cambridge, was also concerned with scientific ped- agogy) defended this definition by exemplification against the sneers of mathematicians who sought definition by essence, insistingthatforthisrea- son alone natural history deserved a place in the liberal education curric- 38. See Stevens, The Development of Biological Systematics, p. 445 n. 4. 39. Antoine-Laurent de Jussieu, “Note sur quelques genres anciens de plantes non classés antérieurement, et maintenant rapportés à leurs familles,” Mémoires du Muséum d’Histoire Naturelle, no. 5 (1819): 247. 36. See Mary P. Winsor, “Non-essentialist Methods in Pre-Darwinian Taxonomy,” Biology and Philosophy 18 (June 2003): 391. 37. See Stevens, The Development of Biological Systematics, pp. 133–51, and Farber, “The Type- Concept in Zoology during the First Half of the Nineteenth Century.” This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1023%2FA%3A1024139523966&citationId=p_n_55 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1023%2FA%3A1024139523966&citationId=p_n_55 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 171 44. See Whewell, The Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, 1:507. 45. See Hugh Edwin Strickland, “On the Inexpediency of Altering Established Terms in Natural History” and “Report of a Committee Appointed ‘To Consider the Rules by Which the Nomenclature of Zoology May Be Established on a Uniform and Permanent Basis,’” Memoirs of Hugh Edwin Strickland, ed. William Jardine (London, 1858), pp. 370–74, 375–97. 46. Strickland, Accipitres, vol. 1 of Ornithological Synonyms, ed. Mrs. Hugh E. Strickland and W. Jardine (London, 1855), pp. iv, v. ulum. Examples forced students to look beyond books to things: “Its [natural history’s] lesson is, that we must in all cases of doubt or obscurity refer, not to words or definitions, but to things.”43 Hence anindividualspec- imen could serve as a type, but only on the basis of a careful selection on the basis of a thorough acquaintance with the species it was intended to exemplify, in turn the basis of the naturalist’s synthetic judgment of the distinguishing marks of the species. Yet by the time Whewell was writing in the 1840s naturalistswereengaged in a heated debate over the stability of names. As a result of voyages of ex- ploration and colonial expeditions, collections of flora and fauna had swelled with new specimens, and with them the number of new speciesgrew explosively. Whewell estimated that approximately ten thousand plant spe- cies had been known at the time of Linnaeus, compared to some sixty thou- sand circa 1845.44 At least as problematic as the proliferation of new species (and genera and families) to be named was the proliferation of naturalists doing the naming. British ornithologist Hugh Edwin Strickland, who launched a British Association for the Advancement of Sciencecommission that in 1842 proposed rules for zoological nomenclature, warned againstthe danger of a cacophony of names as a result of too many naturalists in too many countries pursuing natural history in ignorance of one another and of names already designated.45 In a posthumous work based on some thirty- two volumes of notes devoted to sorting out the recent avalanche of syn- onymy in ornithology, Strickland complained that sloth, finickiness, and scientific decentralization were to blame. Some naturalists “find some ob- ject exceedingly beautiful or curious; they cannot make it out, and do not like the trouble of inquiring for and examining the works that relate to it, and a new name is at once applied, which saves all further trouble to them.” Or better-informed observers track down the original name but for some reason find it unsatisfactory and give the organism a new name. Still others “labour abroad, and have a large knowledge of their subject;butatadistance from all positive information,” far from “the libraries or collections to il- lustrate even any one branch of Zoology or Botany.”46 As a result, names multiplied, and science splintered. 43. Ibid., 2:372. See also Winsor, “Non-essentialist Methods in Pre-Darwinian Taxonomy,” pp. 395–97. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 172 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 49. See Strickland, Accipitres, p. x. Key to Strickland’s and most subsequent proposals for the reform of natural history nomenclature were research collections of books and spec- imens. Because these were concentrated in capital cities and certain well- endowed universities, the necessity to consult them regularly effectively excluded local naturalists without institutional affiliation, an effect ampli- fied by an insistence on retaining Linnaean Latinnomenclature.47 Thenum- ber of visiting naturalists became an index of a collection’s importance and power to dictate classification and naming procedures.48 But the stability of names required that naturalists in doubt about the novelty of a species con- sult not only the extant literature but also the specimens upon which the original publication had been based. The specimens were still usually mul- tiple and preferably typical, but they were now explicitly made part of the reforms to stabilize names; hence Strickland regretted the breakup of col- lections and dispersal of specimens that were to serve as the future bulwarks against synonymy.49 Type specimens had been shifted to the center of no- menclature practices, but they remained exemplary. The practices associated with exemplary type specimens—consulting as many specimens as possible in order to ascertain the range of variation in a species and thereby identify the most characteristic type—were still held up as the disciplinary standard when botanists, following the zoologists’ lead, published their own rules in an attempt to halt the steep increase in synonymy. Alphonse de Candolle, who had been charged by the 1867 Paris International Botanical Congress with drafting a code of nomenclature, re- minded his colleagues that rules alone would be ineffective to stem the tide of superfluous names if not backed up by approved practice: “Some bota- nists will continue to lack the materials for good work, the ways of con- ceiving species will vary for a long time, and there will always be few authors who will take the trouble to study all the forms of a species, all the species of a genus, in the principal herbaria of Europe, which is indispensable to avoid errors” (L, p. 10). Without firsthand study of all relevant herbarium specimens, the characteristics of species could not be defined with confi- dence, inviting the multiplication of names for the same taxonomicalentity. 47. On the social and political dimensions of Strickland’s complaints and recommendations, see Gordon R. McOuat, “Species, Rules, and Meaning: The Politics of Language and the Ends of Definitions in Nineteenth-Century Natural History,” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 27 (Dec. 1996): 473–519. 48. Noting that between 1840 and 1850, over four hundred naturalists visited the zoological department of the British Museum, historian of science Gordon McOuat argues that through “the absolute bulk of its ‘fixed capital’ of naturalist goods, the Museum could set its own tacit rules for naturalist discourse” (McOuat, “Cataloguing Power: Delineating ‘Competent Naturalists’ and the Meaning of Species in the British Museum,” British Journal for the History of Science 34 [2001]: 7). This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1016%2F0039-3681%2895%2900060-7&citationId=p_n_72 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 173 50. Société Zoologique de France, De la nomenclature des êtres organisés (Paris, 1881), p. 23; see also p. 36. The zoologists took a stricter view of publication than Candolle had, ruling out anything but print; see p. 29. Nonetheless, Candolle and the International Botanical Congress hoped that a strict law of priority of publication would clear up some of the no- menclatural confusion. The only valid name of a “natural group of plants” was to be that first published—by Linnaeus himself or by a publicationthat conformed to the binomial Latin forms laid down by Linnaeus. Publication covered a multitude of possibilities of varying degrees of publicity, from printed articles and figures to labels affixed to herbarium specimens. Can- dolle emphasized that the publication of the name was “the essential fact, for it is the one which prevents changing the name, except for weighty rea- sons. He who publishes has enacted the principal deed” (L, pp. 17 [art. 15], 24 [art. 41], 53 [art. 50]). Subsequent revisions of the code of botanical no- menclature would strengthen the priority rule, whittling away Candolle’s “weighty reasons” to make it ever more difficult to change a name once given. The zoologists also underscored the primacy of publication in their nomenclatural edicts. The Société Zoologique de France defended the “law of priority” on the grounds that “knowledge of organisms accumulated by the continuous labor of humanity would not have beentransmissibleexcept on the condition that each one of these beings had a name known to ev- eryone.” Although the society did not recommend sanctions for those who defied the law, it warned that the dangers of doing so would be taught in the hard school of experience.50 At stake in the regulation of names in natural history was the transmis- sion of knowledge and the coherence of a community of knowers. As in the story of Babel, these challenges meshed closely with one another. Without a common language, human beings could not cooperate to build the tower; without a shared nomenclature, the collectiveempiricismofnaturalhistory, dependent on a large and dispersed network of inquirers to investigate na- ture’s organic variety, crumbled like the tower.Latenineteenth-centurybot- anists, especially those at the periphery of the scientific network,recognized that changes in the social organization of their discipline had exacerbated synonymy. American naturalist Lester Ward defended the law of priority as a simple matter of restoring orphaned plants that “have strayed, as it were, from home, been lost, adopted by strange persons, and given different names” to their “true parentage.” He explained that such problems had become pressing with the greater number of botanists, less deferential to a few authorities at European centers of research: “Formerly there was one high seat from which the botanical decrees emanated, and there was far less danger that unreasonable things would be done by one or two persons than This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 174 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 53. See Alphonse de Candolle, La Phytographie, p. 242. 54. The fourth fundamental principle of the 1904 Philadelphia Code (formulated as a set of recommendations to the 1905 International Botanical Congress in Vienna) states that “the application of a name is determined by reference to its nomenclatorial type” (“Code of Botanical Nomenclature,” Bulletin of the Torrey Botanical Club 31 [1904]: 251; see esp. canon 14, p. 254). 55. Schuchert, “What Is a Type in Natural History?” p. 636. by many.”51 His colleague and countryman O. F. Cook took a dimmer view of past botanical oligarchies, ruled from institutions like Kew Gardens in London or the Muséum Nationale d’Histoire Naturelle, with their impres- sive collections. It was high time in his opinion that botany had become decentralized and thereby democratized: “Though this fact has been de- plored, especially by those who enjoyed a more or less complete monopoly of opportunity, it must be admitted that scientific study is one of the natural rights of man about which no artificial barriers can be maintained.”52 Even Candolle, precisely the sort of European princeling of the discipline Cook hoped to dethrone, acknowledged that no modern botanist, however pow- erful and respected, was in a position to dictate to colleagues as Linnaeus had once done ex cathedra from Uppsala.53 Yet Cook admitted that opening up the botanical community had un- leashed the curse of synonymy. Specialists no longer enjoyed the authority to enforce names once and for all on a resistant “scientific public.” Some standard was needed to transfer authority from persons to nature and glue names permanently and unambiguously to things. Largely at the initiative of American botanists, painfully conscious of their distance from the great European herbaria and libraries that had undergirded the judgmentsofnat- uralists able to consult them regularly, proposals to supplement the law of priority by the type method gathered steam in the 1890s and thereafter.Pro- posals to so amend the 1867 Paris Code were submitted in successive codes now named for American cities like Rochester (1893) and Philadelphia (1904). At the heart of these proposals was the type specimen, as the sub- stantial model for all other types of higher taxa (such as the type species of a genus). Marching with this movement, Cook recommended that names and species be defined by the type specimen, “the first individual to which the name was applied constituting the type of the species” (“MT,” p. 481). A flurry of articles, mostly in American scientific journals, in the years around 1900 struggled with the implications of the newly adopted principle of the type specimen for botanical practice.54 Suddenly, a type specimenwas no longer one herbarium sample among many but “the most important material in a museum of natural history.”55 Its preservation, its where- 51. Lester F. Ward, “The Nomenclature Question,” Bulletin of the Torrey Botanical Club 22, no. 7 (1895): 309, 316. 52. O. F. Cook, “The Method of Types in Botanical Nomenclature,” Science, n.s., 12, no. 300 (1900): 476; hereafter abbreviated “MT.” This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.12.300.475&citationId=p_n_81 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.2307%2F2996907&citationId=p_n_80 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 175 59. Ibid., p. 829. 60. Sherborn, Where Is the ______ Collection? pp. 11, 41, 29. 61. For the persistence of these older practices in zoology, see Farber, “The Type-Concept in Zoology during the First Half of the Nineteenth Century,” p. 190. abouts, its very existence became matters of urgent interest to naturalists. Botanists were advised to label type specimens clearly and construct special glass-fronted cases for them,56 to compile catalogues listing their locations in various collections,57 and, above all, to designate them if the original au- thors had not, as was all too often the case for species published in earlier periods.58 The law of priority had forced botanists to become scrupulous bibliographers, tracking down the original publication in order to verify descriptions and names; the method of type specimens plunged them into manuscript research. In the absence of a designated type specimen, it “then becomes necessary to consult the author’s herbarium or the herbarium in which his plants are deposited. Specimens which bear the name in hishand- writing should be given preference in the selection, and of these the type is the one from the locality first mentioned, or the one collected by the person for whom the species is named.”59 The fortunes of personal collectionscon- taining types now mattered: had they been donated to a museum? sold to another private collector, and if so to whom? lost in a fire or by some other accident? “Audubon, J.T. His liby. destroyed by fire”; “Cuvier, G. & Valen- ciennes. Fishes in Paris but types often replaced”; “Calvert, John. . . . He was an unscrupulous blackguard. He seduced two of the Sowerby girls [daugh- ters of British botanist and illustrator James Sowerby]. . . . Of this coll. the B.M. [British Museum] bought a few in 1866, some of which were labelled by James Sowerby, but it is doubtful if any were types or figured.”60 The biographies of type specimens had become as important as those of their authors to botanists intent on nailing a name to a species. The new practices of the type specimen compelled botanists to abandon the old practices of figures and descriptions derived from numerous spec- imens.61 Article after article weighed the pros and cons of multiple versus unique type specimens, but most plumped for singular specimens as the only way to insure the singularity of species names, despite the difficulties entailed by applying this rule to polymorphous plants or to fragmentary 56. See ibid., p. 639; C. Hart Merriam, “Type Specimens in Natural History,” Science, n.s., 5, no. 127 (1897): 731–32; and Maude Kellerman, “A Method of Preserving Type Specimens,” Journal of the Washington Academy of Sciences 2 (Jan. 1912): 222–23. 57. See for example Schuchert et al., Catalogue of the Type Specimens of Fossil Invertebrates in the Department of Geology, United States National Museum, pt. 1 of Catalogue of the Type and Figured Specimens of Fossils, Minerals, Rocks, and Ores in the Department of Geology, United States National Museum, ed. George P. Merrill (Washington, D.C., 1905), and Charles Davies Sherborn, Where Is the ______ Collection? (Cambridge, 1940). 58. See A. S. Hitchcock, “Nomenclatorial Type Specimens of Plant Species,” Science, n.s., 21, no. 543 (1905): 828–32. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.5.123.731-a&citationId=p_n_89 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.21.543.828&citationId=p_n_94 176 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 64. F. A. Bather, “A Postscript on the Terminology of Types,” Science, n.s., 5, no. 126 (1897): 844; compare Candolle, La Phytographie, p. 51n, concerning the distinction between an échantillon authentique and an échantillon typique. 65. See Cook, “The Method of Types,” Science, n.s., 8, no. 198 (1898): 514. 66. See Hitchcock, “The Type Concept in Systematic Botany,” American Journal of Botany 8 (May 1921): 252–53. fossils.62 The holotype was “the only specimen possessed by the nomencla- tor at the time; the one specimen definitely selected or indicated by the nomenclator as the type; the one specimen which is the basis for a given or cited photograph.”63 Hence the type of the species was typically no longer typical. This consequence of new nomenclatural rules based on the type method was so counterintuitive to most botanists that it had to be repeated and underscored and eventually explicitly stated in codes. Some botanists proposed that a new kind of type, the norm, be introduced as “a composite portrait of the species.” But it was clear to them that they would not be able to reclaim the word type for the truly typical specimen: “For this kind of type, far removed from a type-specimen, we want a name; and as the word type has been stolen from us it will save confusion to avoid it altogether.”64 The proponents of the new type method of botanical nomenclature deliberately avoided ontological commitments as to whether higher(supra- species) taxa were real or conventional or eventoafirmdefinitionofspecies. Their definitions of species were notably minimalist: “For nomenclatorial purposes a species is a group of individuals which has been designated by a scientific (preferably a Latin adjective) name, the first individual to which the name was applied constituting the type of thespecies”(“MT,”p.481).Whether this group was understood in essentialist or nominalist or Darwinian terms was left open. In some quarters, the type method was advanced as an an- tidote to all metaphysics, as a genuinely “inductive” alternative. Indeed,the aim of the proposed amendments to first the Paris Code of 1867 and later the Vienna Code of 1905 was to protect the stability of names against any future changes in classificatory systems.65 The type method provoked stiff resistance that lasted for decades, es- pecially from European botanists who balked at the mechanical application of its rules.66 Americans for their part claimed that the vaunted personal discretion of their Old World colleagues was merely a euphemism for the “personal equations” in assigning names (“MT,” p. 478). Although the 1905 Vienna International Botanical Congress rejected the recommendations of the “American Code,” the principle of the type method was accepted by the 62. See Schuchert, “What Is a Type in Natural History?” p. 637. See also Merriam, “Type Specimens in Natural History,” p. 732; Swingle, “Types of Species in Botanical Taxonomy,” p. 864; and Schuchert, “Catalogue,” p. 10. 63. Schuchert and S. S. Buckman, “The Nomenclature of Types in Natural History,” Science, n.s., 21, no. 545 (1905): 900. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.5.126.843-a&citationId=p_n_104 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1126%2Fscience.8.198.513&citationId=p_n_105 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.2307%2F2434993&citationId=p_n_106 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 177 Brussels International Botanical Congress in 1910. In the most recent codes (Tokyo 1994, Saint Louis 1999), it is enshrined as a fundamental principle; its practices are correspondingly entrenched. Theories and a fortiori meta- physics might come and go, but names and the unique type specimens that bore them would endure. Botanists once more had a common language, albeit one purchased at the price of paradox, an atypical type. So Careful of the Type If virtue & friendship have not yet become fables, do believe we keep your face for the living type. —Ralph Waldo Emerson to Thomas Carlyle67 What does it mean for a type to have a face? Not just the idealized,marble face of an allegory of virtue and friendship, but that ofa concreteindividual? Type specimens are no longer living, but they are as individual and concrete as Carlyle was to his friend Emerson. Yet they have not been selected as Emerson chose Carlyle, as the most perfect and characteristic expression of the virtues he wished to embody. The procedure is instead more in the spirit of Walt Whitman, as if a random individual had been plucked from the crowd of citizens to be decked out in the chiton and emblemata of Virtue and Friendship, the words made flesh by lottery. There is no fiction that all individual members of a botanical species are so much alike as to be interchangeable; on the contrary, Darwinists, for example, scrutinize individual variations, “hopeful monsters,” as the raw material on which natural selection works. And of course according to evo- lutionary theory the species themselves are time-bound entities, in slowbut steady flux. But neither are botanical species mere amalgamations of just any individuals; there are strict criteria for membership that take years of fieldwork and hard study of systematics to master. It is not a matter of in- difference to botanists as to whether any given plant is assigned to one spe- cies or another. And it is a matter of the utmost importance that names remain attached securely to species, however much classification systems or even the species themselves may change. The type specimen is the face— the dessicated, flattened face to be sure, but still the face—that is attached to the name of a species, and on the permanence of that relationship de- pends the transmission of botanical knowledge amassed for centuries. Philosophers have remarked on the curious referential properties of type specimens, pointing out their resemblance to what Hilary Putnam and Saul Kripke called rigid designators—names assigned to a natural kind that are 67. Ralph Waldo Emerson, letter to Thomas Carlyle, 7 Oct. 1835, in Other People’s Mail: Letters of Men and Women of Letters, ed. Lola L. Szladits (New York, 1973), p. 33. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 178 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory 69. Alex Levine, “Individualism, Type Specimens, and the Scrutability of Species Membership,” Biology and Philosophy 16 (June 2001): 327–28. See also David L. Hull, “Exemplars and Scientific Change,” PSA 1982, ed. Peter D. Asquith and Thomas Nickles, 2 vols. (East Lansing, Mich., 1983), 2:491–92. preserved by a continuous lineage of reference, despitechangesinthemean- ing of the name. So, for example, the name water remains attached to the natural kind water despite numerous changes in ideas about the compo- sition of water; the water pre-Socratic philosopher Thales believed to be the fundamental component of the universe is the same as the water now un- derstood as a composition of hydrogen and oxygen.68 Names inhere rigidly in their referents, regardless of the truth of descriptions. Philosophers of biology have interpreted the way naturalists use type specimens in thislight; some have suggested that sense can be made of these practices byconceiving of the entire species as an individual, albeit as a temporally and spatially dispersed one, and hence by regarding the type specimen as a part of this species-individual, just as a feather is a part of bird or a hoof is a part of a horse. To define a species by means of a type specimen would therefore be a kind of definition by ostension, by singling out, as Alex Levine puts it, “a conveniently sized and packaged part of a species, a suitable target for the act of ostension in which the species acquires its name.”69 There are certainly analogies between the aims of rigid designators inthe theory of reference and those of type specimens in botanical nomenclature. Both are meant to preserve the relationship between names and things as knowledge about what the things really are changes over time. But there are also striking disanalogies. If type specimens are just parts of the species- individual that can be pointed out to define the (from the standpoint of human perception) scattered species-individual, why insist upon the sin- gularity of the holotype? Why aren’t more parts better than one, as they surely would be if one were trying to reconstruct an organism from, for example, fragmentary and dispersed fossil remains? Moreover, in contrast to rigid designators, botanical type specimens are not independent of the truth of the description of the species they instantiate. Once a natural kind has been baptized as water, name and natural kind stick together whether the natural kind is understood as one of the Aristotelian four elements, heavier than air but lighter than earth, or as H2O. Similarly, if a species is transferred to another genus, its type specimen does indeed travel with it (under the new name). But if a species description clearly disagrees with 68. See Hilary Putnam, “The Meaning of Meaning,” in Language, Mind, and Knowledge, ed. K. Gunderson (Minneapolis, 1975); Saul Kripke, Naming and Necessity (Cambridge, Mass., 1980); and Scott Soames, Beyond Rigidity: The Unfinished Semantic Agenda of Naming and Necessity (Oxford, 2002). This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1023%2FA%3A1010674915907&citationId=p_n_111 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1093%2F0195145283.001.0001&citationId=p_n_110 https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/action/showLinks?doi=10.1086%2F427306&crossref=10.1093%2F0195145283.001.0001&citationId=p_n_110 Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 179 70. Rousseau, The Social Contract, trans. Maurice Cranston (1762; Harmondsworth, 1968), 3.15, p. 141. the type specimen, the description trumps, and names are applied accord- ingly (see SLC, art. 7.4). Finally, the relationship between rigid designator and the natural kind it names is bipartite; there is no equivalent of the unique, individual type specimen to mediate between name and thing. There is, to continue with the example of water, no designated brook or sea that serves as the sole holotype of that natural kind. The work done by the type specimen seems, rather, to resemblethatdone in political theory by elected representatives. It is an all-too-familiar fact that political representatives do not always represent their constituencies, either in the sense of resembling most of the votersinanysocioeconomically or ideologically significant way or in carrying out their political wishes. As in the case of individual members of a botanical species, individual mem- bers of a constituency are not identical to one another and vary along many different dimensions. And yet one such concrete individual must represent the whole, in botany as in politics. Some political theorists have openly doubted whether such representation is possible. Rousseau famously criti- cized polities in which an overweening concern for commerce and comfort led citizens to delegate their military duties to mercenaries and their po- litical duties to deputies in a national assembly. Only a legislative assembly composed of all citizens enjoyed true sovereignty: “Sovereignty cannot be represented, for the same reason that it cannot be alienated; its essence is the general will, and will cannot be represented—either it is the general will or it is something else; there is no intermediatepossibility.”70 Politicaltheory from the seventeenth century on, whether absolutist or republican, is lit- tered with attempts to fuse the populace into its single, concrete, legitimate representative, as in the frontispiece to Thomas Hobbes’s Leviathan (1651), a picture of a crowned monarch whose gigantic body is composed of those of his subjects (fig. 4). Whether the entity to be represented is conceived as having an essence—be it the general will or the species ideal type—or as just a motley multitude, attempts to put a single face to a large group soon strain the imagination. The title by which a type specimen represents but does not exemplify its species ultimately rests upon the scientific practices by which it does so, just as the claim of members of a legislature to represent their constituency stands or falls by their political practices. The type specimen is not just the bearer of the species name; it is in principle the original of the species de- scription (and botanists take considerable pains to make sure this is so, so that long, tortuous bibliographic chains sometimes connect species and This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). figure 4. Frontispiece of Thomas Hobbes, Leviathan, or The Matter, Forme, and Power of a Common-Wealth Ecclesiasticall and Civill (London: Andrew Crooke, 1651). Courtesy of Rare Books Division, the New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox, and Tilden Foundations. This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). Critical Inquiry / Autumn 2004 181 type).71 This is why botanists must know not only that a type specimenexists but also where it exists, in case it must be consulted. To compose a mono- graph on a botanical taxon or to unsnarl a classificatory tangle requires firsthand inspection of the holotype, if possible. Recent internet projects to create databases of “E-Types” aim to reduce the inconvenience of travel to collections and to make holotypes accessible to naturalists worldwide.72 A type specimen must at least be seen, whether on the herbarium page or in a high-resolution digital photograph. It is by comparison of particulars with particulars, not ofparticularswith universals, or of the concrete exemplum with the abstract idea, that bota- nists ascertain species boundaries and species membership. To describe such methods as polythetic and to liken them to the detection of Wittgen- steinian family resemblances is correct, but somewhat misleading. Instead of surveying a group portrait for family resemblances, botanists focus on one individual member, the holotype, side by side with its description, as the standard against which other specimens are measured. What botanists thereby perform is not so much an induction over particularsasonebetween particulars. If the species is a kind of generalization, a kind of plant Levia- than, it is not one composed by the enumeration of interchangeable indi- viduals, as a census counts up residents of a country. It is more like a wheel of comparisons, each a point along the hub representing an individualspec- imen connected along a spoke to the type specimen at the center, as well as connected to one another by relationships of resemblance. (Such a wheel contrasts with the Venn diagram cluster of variously overlapping sets that would represent family resemblances, although neither structure corre- sponds to an essential definition of traits shared by each and every member of the species.) It is the trained eye and judgment of the botanist that dis- cerns these connections, shuttling back and forth among holotype,descrip- tion, and other specimens. These are the practices that chain names to species via type specimens. An act of baptism in which the species is given a name does not suffice. Nor does simple ostension, a finger pointed at that designated specimen as a 71. For example: Echium lycopsis L. (Fl. Angl.: 12. 1754) was published without a description or diagnosis but with reference to [seventeenth-century English botanist John] Ray (Syn. Meth. Stirp. Brit., ed. 3:227. 1724), in which a “Lycopsis” species was discussed with no description or diagnosis but with citation of earlier references, including [sixteenth-century Swiss botanist Gaspard] Bauhin (Pinax: 255. 1623). The accepted validating description of E. lycopsis is that of Bauhin, and the type must be chosen from the context of his work. . . . The first acceptable choice is that of the illustration, cited by both Ray and Bauhin, of “Echii altera species” in [sixteenth- century Flemish botanist Rembert] Dodonaeus (Stirp. Hist. Pempt.: 620. 1583). [SLC, art. 7.7] 72. See “The E-Type Initiative,” http://140.247.119.145/Etypes/About.htm This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 73. Quoted in FAQ, “ALL Species Foundation,” http://www.all-species.org synecdoche for its species. It is the calibration of species—always incor- porated in particular specimens—with the holotype and description that forges the chain of transmission. This is neither realism—botanical species as essences—nor nominalism—species as random agglomerations of in- dividuals. It is equally difficult to locate along the axis running from con- crete to abstract. The holotype and its practices of induction between particulars have created a new way of representing the many by the one, a particular that stands in for the species, a type incarnate in the individual. Metaphysics in action. Everyone can now take part in the applied metaphysics of designating type specimens. The website of the ALL Species Foundation (based at the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco)recruitsvolunteerstohelp taxonomists finish “the complete inventory of all species of life on Earth within the next twenty-five years—a human generation.” The world’s ap- proximately ten thousand taxonomists will need “an army of apprentices, or parataxonomists, to assist in the initial inventory efforts and sorting of specimens” in their locales; detailed images of type specimens will be col- lected in online databases. The parataxonomistsandthedatabaseswillspare the taxonomists arduous travel to remote field sites and museums. Since Linnaeus, circa 1.7 million species have been identified; estimates on the species remaining to be discovered range from 10 to 100 million. But the project’s backers are optimistic; E. O. Wilson,entomologistatHarvardUni- versity’s Museum of Comparative Zoology, believes that new technologies such as digitalized images of specimens “can speed up the exploration, de- scription, and analysis of the world’s biodiversity by as much as 100-fold.”73 Work on the tower in the plain of Shinar has begun anew. 182 Lorraine Daston / Type Specimens and Scientific Memory This content downloaded from 141.014.238.123 on April 15, 2019 01:46:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 
work_kbbceakmbzfhrgfeutawp3tk3m	----	The Origins of Progressive Education The Origins of Progressive Education William J . Reese By the dawn of the twentieth century, a new way of thinking about the nature of the child, classroom methods, and the purposes of the school increasingly dominated educational discourse. Something loosely called progressive education, especially its more child-centered aspects, became part of a larger revolt against the formalism of the schools and an assault on tradition. Our finest scholars, such as Lawrence A. Cremin, in his mag- isterial study of progressivism forty years ago, have tried to explain the ori- gins and meaning of this movement. O n e should be humbled by their achievements and by the magnitude of the subject. Variously defined, pro- gressivism continues to find its champions and critics, the latter occasion- ally blaming it for low economic productivity, immorality among the young, and the decline of academic standards. In the popular press, John Dewey’s name is often invoked as the evil genius behnd the movement, even though he criticized sugar-coated education and letting children do as they please. While scholars doubt whether any unified, coherent movement called pro- gressivism ever existed, its offspring, progressive education, apparently did exist, wrealung havoc on the schools.’ William J. Reese is Professor of Educational Policy Studies and of History and European Studies at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. H e would like to thank David Adams, Mary Ann Dzuback, Barry Franklin, Herbert Kliebard, B. Edward McClellan, and David B. Tyack for their constructive comments on an early draft of this essay and for the research assistance of Karen Benjamin, Matthew Calvert, and Suzanne Rosenblith, graduate students in Educa- tional Policy Studies at Wisconsin. This article was presented as the presidential address to the History of Education Society’s annual meeting, San Antonio, 20 October 2000. ‘ O n educational progressivism, see especially Lawrence A. Cremin, The Transjornza- tion of the School: Propessivism in American Education, 1876-1957 (New York: Vintage Books, 1964); Herbert M . Kliebard, The Smiggle f i r the American Ciinicnlzim, 1893-19f8 (Boston: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1986); and Diane Ravitch, Le$ Back: A Centny, of Failed School Reforms (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2000). E.D. Hirsch, Jr. contends that romantic, child- centered views triumphed in the twentieth century, and he blames Schools of Education for disseminating these and other harmful pedagogical ideals; see The Schools We Need: And why We Don’t Have Them (New York: Doubleday, 1996). T h e literature on progressivism more generally is too vast to cite, but the best recent contributions include Robert M. Crunden, Ministers of Refoorni: The Propessives’ Achievement i n American Civilization, 1889-1 920 (New York: Basic Books, 1982); Alan Dawley, StrugglesfirJustice: Social Responsibilizy and the Liber- al State (Cambridge: T h e Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1991); and Daniel T. Rodgers, Atlantic Crossings: Social Politics in a Progressive Age (Cambridge: T h e Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1998). Hirrory of Education @ant+ Vol. 41 Spring 2001 vi Histoly of Education Quarterly William J. Reese President, History of Education Society 2000 Photo courtesy of Robert Rashid 2 History of Education Quarterly Without question, something fascinating had emerged in education- al thought by the nineteenth century. Critics of traditional forms of child rearing and classroom instruction condemned what they saw as insidious notions about the nature of children and the antediluvian practices of the emerging public school system. In often evangelical and apocalyptic prose, an assortment of citizens proclaimed the discovery of new insights on chil- dren and how they best learned. Despite many differences among them, they produced an impressive educational canon. They proclaimed that chil- dren were active, not passive, learners; that children were innocent and good, not fallen; that women, not men, best reared and educated the young; that early education, without question, made all the difference; that nature, and not books alone, was perhaps the best teacher; that kindness and benev- olence, not stern discipline or harsh rebukes, should reign in the home and classroom; and, finally, that the curriculum needed serious reform, to remove the vestiges of medievalism. All agreed that what usually passed for educa- tion was mind-numbing, unnatural, and pernicious, a sin against chldhood. These views became ever expressed in books, educational magazines, and public addresses across the course of the nineteenth century. While it was easier to condemn schools than perfect them, the spirit of education- al reform reflected well a nation continually revitalized by waves of reli- gious revivalism and utopian experiments during the antebellum period. After the Civil War, voices for pedagogical change multiplied and formed a mighty chorus, singrng in praise of the child and insisting that a “new edu- cation” must supplant an “old education” based on false and wicked ideas. Some writers even substituted the word “progressive” as a synonym for “new,” adding the phrase “progressive education” to the nation’s peda- gogical lexicon, without always defining it very clearly or consistently.’ At the turn of the century, John Dewey brilliantly presented the case for each side, the old and new education, in landmark books. Knowing the complex origins of the child-centered ideal, Dewey refused the honorific title of father of progressive education, whch defenders of tradition already viewed as the demon child of romanticism. Even without DNA testing, Dewey’s paternity seems doubtful.’ ‘The phrase “new education” proliferated in editorials and articles in educational jour- nals and various magazines after the Civil War. Similarly, book titles followed suit, as for example, Joseph Rhodes, The New Edzccation: Moral, Industrial, Hygienic, Intellec~ual (Boston: Published by the Author, 1882); Mrs. [Elizabeth?] Peabody, The Nev Education (Cincinnati: Press of Robert Clarke & Co., 1879); and Robert H. Thurston, The New Education and the New Civilization: Their Unity (Columbus, OH: Press of Hahn & Adair, 1892). ’On evangelical movements and nineteenth-century reform movements, read Ronald G. Walters, American Reformws, I81 1-1 860 (New York: Hill and Wang, rev. ed., 1997), chap- ter 1 ; Steven Mintz, Moralists 6 Modernizers: America’s Pre-Civil War Reformers (Baltimore: T h e Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995); and Paul Boyer, Urban Masses and Moral Order i 7 z America, 1820-1920 (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1978). Dewey cleverly The Origins of Progressive Education 3 T h e sources of this “new education” were passionately debated from the start. T h e poet William Blake, publishing his Songs of Innocence at the outbreak of the French Revolution, pointed to religious visions since child- hood as central to his inspiration.’ Other champions of the child said they were simply following Nature’s Laws. T h e Swiss reformer, Johann Hein- rich Pestalozzi, whose words became Holy Writ to many, was frankly unsure of where his ideas originated. Acknowledgmg the influence of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Emile (1 762) and his own learning by doing, Pestalozzi wrote in 180 1 that “My whole manner of life has grven me no power, and no incli- nation, to strive hastily after bright and clear ideas on any subject, before, supported by facts, it has a background in me that has awakened some self- confidence. Therefore to my grave I shall remain in a kind of fog about most of my views.” But, he concluded, “it is a holy fog to me.”’ H m Gei-tmde Teaches Her Child?-en (1 801) remains difficult to classify: parts of his classic evoke the empiricism of Bacon, the mechanistic world of Newton, and the sometimes inconsistent, though confidently, asserted claims of his mentor Jean Jacques. Like most pedagogical pilgrims, however, Pestalozzi regard- ed his mission as a holy one. Shrouded in a holy fog, he nonetheless emit- ted celestial light from afar. Lifnng some of the historical clouds that have obscured the origins of early progressivism remains a challenge. So I will try to make my cen- tral propositions clear. In its American phase, child-centered progressivism was part of a larger humanitarian movement led by particular men and women of the northern middle classes in the antebellum and postbellum periods. This was made possible by changes in family size, in new gender roles within bourgeois culture, and in the softening of religious orthodoxy withm Protestantism. Progressivism was also part and parcel of wider reform movements in the Western world that sought the alleviation of pain and suffering and the promotion of moral and intellectual advancement. Like all reform movements, it sought both social stability and social uplift. In contrasted the old and new education in The School and Society (Chicago: University of Chica- go Press, 1899); and Interest and Eflort in Education (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Universi- ty Press, c. 1975). T h e latter was first published in 1913. ‘Geoffrey Keynes, “Introduction,” in William Blake, Songs of Innocence a i d ofExperi- ence (Oxford: Oxford University Press, c. 1967), 10; Peter Achoyd, Blake (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), chapter 1; and E.P. Thompson, Witness Against the Beart: William Blake and the Moral Law (New York: T h e New Press, 1995), on the complex dissenting religious tradi- tions that shaped Blake’s world. yohann Heinrich Pestalozzi, How Gemrude Teaches Her Children: A n Attempt t o Help Mothers To Teach Their Own Children and A n Acconnt of the Method (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd., c. 1915, translation by Lucy E. Holland and Francis C. Turner), 6. Historians commonly note Pestalozzi’s inconsistent views on education and society; see Gerald Lee Gutek, Pestalozzi and Education (New York: Random House, 1968), 5 3 , 98-99, 157-58, 167-68; and Robert B. Downs, Heinrich Pestalozzi: Father of Modern Pedagogy (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1975). 4 Histoq of Education Quarter4 addition, child-centered ideas gained currency as activists drew very selec- tively upon particular romantic traditions emanating from Europe. A trans- Atlantic crossing of ideas from the Swiss Alps, German forests, and English lake district thus played its curious role in the shaping of early progres- sivism. Finally, the hopes of many child-centered educators were ultimately dashed by the realities of American schools a t the end of the nineteenth century. Their moral crusade nevertheless permanently changed the nature of educational thought in the modern world. I Loolung back on the famous reform movements that burst forth in the Western world between the 1750s and 18SOs, scholars disagree con- siderably on the sources and consequences of change yet underscore the complex transformations that altered society. During this period, the shift from a rural, agrarian, mercantilist world, to one of markets, commercial and industrial capitalism, and cities proceeded apace. T h e American and French Revolutions led many citizens to dream of a more just world based on universal respect for Enlightenment precepts of reason, the rule of law, science, and progress. As Thomas L. Haskell persuasively argues in his study of Anglo-American reform movements, dissenting religious groups such as the Quakers, among the most successful capitalists of the new age of Adam Smith, disproportionally led movements for moral reform and uplift. With other Protestant groups and a variety of secular reformers, they champi- oned many unpopular causes: pacifism, women’s rights, the abolition of slavery, and the more humane treatment of children, criminals, and the mentally ill. Unlike other scholars, Haskell causally locates a rising ethos of caring within an emergent capitalism, which increased human misery but also made social ties more expansive and intense, promoting empathy, compassion, and social action.6 Whatever the multiple causes of this growing humanitarianism, reform movements on both sides of the Atlantic reflected activist strains within Protestantism and the secular promise of social change and human improve- ment spawned by political revolution. Thus the rise of a child-centered ethos among a minority of vocal, middle-class activists by the middle of the nineteenth century emerged during an era of sweeping change. A genera- tion of American historians has focused their attention on the malung of northern middle-class family life and culture. In the decades after the Amer- ican Revolution, middle-class families shrank in size, enhancing the possi- bility of placing more attention on the individual child. Gender roles in ‘Thomas L. Haskell, 04ectivity Is Not Neutrality: Enpkznatory Schemes in History (Balti- more: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998), chapters 8-9. The Origins o f Progressive Education 5 middle-class homes became more starkly separated in urban areas, the locus of social change, which intensified the domestic labors of mothers, includ- ing child rearing. By mid-century, middle- and upper-class Protestant con- gregations increasingly softened their view of original sin and emphasized Christian nurture over hellish damnation; more moderate, non-Calvinist views were heard from the pulpit and registered in child-rearing manuals. T h e gap between thought and practice, ideal and reality, likely diverged in all of these fundamental areas of northern bourgeois life. But the conver- gence of changes in demography, gender roles, economics, and religious ideology helped make some members of the northern middle classes recep- tive to new ideas about children and their education.’ T h e growing fascination with child-centered education often deteri- orated into pure sentimentality in the Victorian era or was transmuted into a revived effort at discovering the scientific laws of physical and human development reminiscent of the eighteenth century. But the discovery of the child owed an enormous debt to the age of Locke and Newton as well as to Rousseau and Wordsworth. American Progressivism was literally the child of Europe. As Hugh Cunningham has argued, Locke had challenged the seemingly timeless Christian precept of infant damnation by arguing that children’s ideas, if not exactly their talents and destiny, were capable of change and improvement through the influence of education and envi- ronment. Locke also stressed the need to observe the individual child to determine the most suitable education, a foundational idea of child-cen- tered thinking. Newton, in turn, held out the promise of discovering the natural laws that governed the universe, which similarly generated hope- fulness of the human capacity to know the world, unlock its secrets, and thus improve its fate. Before the so-called romantic poets and novelists penned their odes to childhood, English evangelical Protestants by the mid- eighteenth century had created a new genre of reading materials, from chil- dren’s hymns to a wide array of children’s literature, whose messages and S t u a r t M. Blumin, The Emergence of the Middle Class: Social Experiences in the American City, 1760-1900 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989); Mary P. Ryan, Cradle o f the M & l e Class: The Fumily in Oneida Connty, N m York, 1790-1865 (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 1981); Karen Halltunen, Confidence Men and Painted Women: A Stndy ofMiddle- Class Culture in America, 1830-1880 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982); Barbara Finkelstein, “Casting Networks of Good Influence: T h e Reconstruction of Childhood in the United States, 1790-1830,” in American Childhood: A Research Guide and Historical Handbook, ed. Joseph M . Hawes and N. Ray Hiner (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1985), 127-28; Bernard Wishy, The Child and the Republic: The Dawn of Modern American Child Nurture (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1968); Robert V. Wells, Revolutions in Amer- icans’ Lives: A Demographic Perspective on the Histoly ofilmericans, Their Families, and Their Soci- ety (Westport, C T : Greenwood Press, 1982), chapters 5-6; Steven Mintz and Susan Kellogg, Domestic Revolutiom: A Social History ofAmerican Family Life (New York: T h e Free Press, 1988), chapter 3; and William J. Reese, The Origins of the American High School (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995). 6 History of Education Quarterly didactic approach differed considerably from an emerging romantic ethos but similarly stressed the heightened importance of the young. Moreover, the child became a more prominent character in novels and popular writ- ing generally. And, as markets expanded, toy shops proliferated, peddling their wares to the middling and upper classes.8 T h e motives of utilitarians, rationalists, shopkeepers, and revivalists obviously varied enormously. But the ascending importance of childhood was clear by the end of the eighteenth century, when revolution and roman- ticism together further led to what critics called a veritable cult of childhood. Increasingly within enlightened circles-among artists, poets, novelists, and educators-new ideas about the nature of the child arose that continue to resonate in the twenty-first century. Some, following Rousseau’s lead, assumed that the chld, naturally good, was corrupted not by Adam’s fall but by human institutions. Innovative thinkers of various stripes-sometimes appalled by the shocking criticisms of religon by the author of Emile-nevertheless ques- tioned whether childhood was preparation for salvation or even adulthood. Those later known to the world as romantics or transcendentalists often concluded that childhood was a holy, mystical place, superior to the cor- rupted lives of adults. Blake invoked the child’s innocence, Wordsworth its “natural piety.” T o many, childhood was a metaphor for goodness, a spe- cial time of life, or even a timeless, sublime essence worthy of contempla- tion. In his first book, Nature, in 1836, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote “The sun illuminates only the eye of the man, but shnes into the eye and the heart of the child.” Infants, in fact, were a “perpetual M e ~ s i a h . ” ~ T h e relationship of European Romanticism to the rise of American child-centered thought is nevertheless more complicated than it may appear. Literary critics (never mind the historians) have now published many more words on the romantics than their subjects ever wrote, and the very vocab- ulary ordinarily associated with romanticism is sometimes very ambiguous. The adjective romantic, derived from the word romance, appeared in English in 1650 and in French and German soon after. It referred specifically to medieval verse dealing with “adventure, chivalry, and love,” as Raymond Williams explains, but soon had the added connotations of sentimentality, extravagance, and an appeal to the imagination. Only in the 1880s did schol- ‘Hugh Cunningham, Children and Childhood in Western Society Since 1 YO0 (London: Longman, 1985), chapter 3 . On the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, see Viviana A. Zelizer, Pricing the Priceless Child: The Changing Social Value of Children (New York: Basic Books, 1985); and Ellen Condliffe Lagemann, An Elzuive Science: The Troubling Histoly ofEdu- cation Research (Chicago: T h e University of Chicago Press, ZOOO), chapter 1. ‘Peter Coveney, The Image of Childhood: T h e Individualand Society, A Study of the Theme in English Literature (London: Penguin Books, c. 1967), 29; Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature,” in Ralph Waldo Emerson, Selected Ersays, ed. Larzer Ziff, (New York: Penguin Boob, c. 1982), 13; and Barbara Beatty, Preschool Education in America: The Crilture of Young Children fiom the Colonial Era t o the Present (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 28. The Origins of Progvessive Education 7 ars routinely mean by Romanticism a distinctive movement of writers, poets, and artists who lived in Europe between roughly the 1790s and 1830s. And, as Williams points out, most of the essential key words in our usual under- standing of romanticism enjoy conflicting definitions. Nature, for exam- ple, “is perhaps the most complex word in the language,” as any dictionary indicates.’” For many decades, scholars have recognized that there was never any unified, single romantic movement. This may help explain the inability of scholars to discover a unified, single progressive movement in education. In the 1920s, the distinguished philosopher and historian of ideas, Arthur 0. Lovejoy, noted that different writers claimed that romanticism origi- nated in the mind of Francis Bacon, or Jean Jacques Rousseau, or Immanuel Kant, or began with that famous couple in the Garden of Eden, since obvi- ously “the Serpent was the first romantic.” By the 1920s, writers routinely praised or blamed romanticism for producing such incongruous phenom- ena as the French Revolution and the Prussian state, or Cardinal Newman and Friedrich Nietzsche. “Typical manifestations of the spiritual essence of Romanticism have been variously conceived to be a passion for moon- light, for red waistcoats, for Gothic churches, for futurist paintings, for talk- ing excessively about oneself, for hero-worship, for losing oneself in an ecstatic contemplation of nature.” Lovejoy knew that the human mind seeks clarity and simplicity, however much it distorts the past. Yet he still hoped one might recognize “a plurality of Romanticisms.” T h e r e were indeed “several strains” within European romanticism, yielding ideas that were “exceedingly diverse and often conflicting.”“ William Blake, who despised the rationalist thought of Locke and Newton, equally disliked Rousseau for his materialism and harsh words o n religion and Voltaire for his faith in reason. “Mock on, Mock on, Voltaire, RousseadMock on, Mock on; ‘Tis all in vaidYou throw the sand against the wind/And the wind blows it back again.’”’ And yet he shared Rousseau’s hostility to institutions, likened schools to cages where teachers taught birds “’Raymond Williams, Keywords: A Vocabulaiy ojCultzri-e and Society (New York: Oxford University Press, c. 1976), 219, 274-75. As Alan Richardson notes, “In the Romantic poet’s appeal to nature lay the basis for a potentially radical critique of the disciplinary forms of con- temporary educational theory and practice.” See Literature, Education, and Romanticimz: Read- ing as Social Practice, 1780-1832 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 104. “Arthur 0. Lovejoy, Essays in the Histo7y of Ideas (New York: G. P. Pumam’s Sons, c. 1960), 229,231,235,2SZ. Also see Richardson, Literatnre, 9-10, 30; and the essays in Roman- ticism in National Context, eds. Roy Porter and Mikulas Teich (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 1988). For the ongoing debates among educators, see the essays in John Willinsky, ed., The Educational Legary ofRomanticism (Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1990). “William Blake, “Mock O n , Mock O n , Voltaire, Rousseau,” in The Portable Romantic Poets: Blake t o POP, ed. W . H . Auden and Norman Holmes Pearson (New York: Penguin Books, c. 1978), 13. Also see Isaiah Berlin, The Roots of Romanticimz, ed. Henry Hardy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), 49-50. 8 History of Education Quarterly to sing, and thought educational institutions, like marriage, government, and the military were fairly Satanic. Blake and Wordsworth assumed that children were good and innocent, and their early dissenting politics were set aflame by the American and French Revolutions. As the Terror showed the unhappy face of change, however, Blake retained his radical politics but wrote a parody of his Songs of Innocence entitled Songs of Experience. Both were printed together by 1794, showing the “Two Contrary States of the Human Soul.” London born and bred, he never shared Wordsworth’s views on nature, nor did he tilt his politics Tory-side, like the famous bard from the Lake District.‘’ Without question, a wide variety of “romantics” influenced the rise of child-centered ideas in America in the nineteenth century. T h e inspir- ing words of Rousseau or Wordsworth were hardly unknown among those who attacked the old education and called for more humane treatment of the innocent child. Yet many of the romantics had conflicting views on human nature, society, and the prospect of social change. They were some- times individually inconsistent and could not offer blueprints for imagined educational utopias. European romantic writers, poets, and artists had come of age in a different time and place than those who struggled to make emerg- ing, comprehensive, public school systems in the American north more humane and child-centered. They could provide insights into the evil ways of child rearing and education in the past and inspiration for reformers. But anyone who read the romantics, who could be quite suspicious of institu- tions, closely enough, would have detected that they usually were not encum- bered by the challenging problems of teaching, raising school funds, or dealing with parents on a regular basis. T h e romantics mattered on these shores. But only those who wrote specifically and extensively about educa- tion and schools-especially Johann Pestalozzi (1 746- 182 7), in particular, and Friedrich Froebel(l782-1852) afterwards-had a clearly decisive impact. Even then, not surprisingly, their disciples took their ideas and made them compatible with the perceived needs of northern urban culture, tearing them from their original context. ”On Blake’s views on children, institutions, and politics, read S. Foster Damon, A Blake Dictionary: The Ideas and Symbols of William Blake (Hanover: University Press of New Eng- land, c. 1988), 81, 145; Coveney, Image, 54-55; and David V. Erdman, Blake: ProphetAgaimt Empire (New York: Dover Publications, c. 1977), 120-22,271-72. Invarious editions of Songs o f Innocence and of Experzence, Blake rearranged the placement of some poems, showing that he did not place “hard and fast” boundaries on the two contrary “States of the Human Soul.” See Andrew Lincoln’s “Introduction,” in William Blake, Songs o f Innocence and of Experience (Princeton: Princeton University Press, c. 1991), 17. Wordsworth’s politics, poetry, and views of children have generated an enormous list of secondary sources; consult at least Stephen Gill, William Wordnvorth: A Life (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1989); Aidan Day, Romanticinn (London: Routledge, 1996), 33, 56-58; and Nicholas Riasanovsky, The Emergence of Romanti- cimz (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), chapter 1. The Origins of Progressive Education 9 American romantics nevertheless eloquently and movingly described the sweetness, harmony, and holiness of chldhood, views that echoed among native poets, progressive religious figures, and assorted visionaries. T h e transcendentalists, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau among others, saw something artificial about the schools, which nevertheless bore their names by the thousands in the twentieth century. Having failed in a brief stint as a district school teacher-reportedly quitting after discover- ing that using the switch came with the job-the author of Walden (1854) thought the common schools were decent enough but inferior to the vil- lage and nature. “It is time that we had uncommon schools,” Thoreau told his readers, and “villages were universities, and their elder inhabitants the fellows of universities, with leisure . . . to pursue liberal studies the rest of their lives. Shall the world be confined to one Paris and one Oxford for- ever? Cannot students be boarded here and get a liberal education under the skies of Concord?”’.’ W h a t was needed was not another schoolmaster sequestered between four barren walls but a modern Abelard urging peo- ple to think unconventional thoughts: precisely what common schools were never intended to do. Poets such as Walt Whitman, whose genius belies any easy literary classification, similarly found a more natural, not institutionally deadening, form of learning as essential to the making of the new education. Another former teacher, Whitman had, while editor of the Brooklyn Eagle, frequently excoriated corporal punishment and demanded better teaching methods. In h s poems he applauded the contemplation of morning glories over mem- orizing facts in books, elevated human intuition over intellect, merried in the joys of play, and snickered at the arrogance of the educated. As he grew old, he realized that schools were here to stay. At the inauguration of a new one in Camden, New Jersey, in 1874, he offered “An Old Man’s Thought of School.” And these I see, these sparkling eyes, These stores of mystic meaning, these young lives, Building, equipping like a fleet of ships, immortal ships, Soon to sail out over the measureless seas, O n the soul’s voyage. Only the lot of boys and girls? Only the tiresome spelling, writing, ciphering classes? Only a public school? “Henry David Thoreau, Wulden (New York: Penguin Books, c. 1986), 154. O n Emer- son and teaching, read Robert D. Richardson, Jr., Emerson: The Mind on Fire (Berkeley: Uni- versity of California Press, 1995), 41, 5 7 . 10 History o f Education Quarterly No, Whitman answered, the school, like the church, was not simply “brick and mortar” but a place of “living souls,” “the lights and shadows of the future. . . . To girlhood, boyhood look, the teacher and the school.”” I1 American advocates of the new education drew as they pleased from a large corpus of romantic writings, domestic and foreign. But few Euro- peans were as influential as Pestalozzi and Froebel, even though their ideas were bent and adapted to local conditions and sometimes rejected in the- ory and practice by some who invoked their names as the source of their inspiration. T h e Swiss-born Pestalozzi and German-born Froebel had emphasized the importance of motherhood, spirituality, and natural meth- ods in educating little children, sentiments soon embraced by many pro- gressive thinkers. Emerson E. White, who had recently retired as Cincinnati’s superintendent, told local high school graduates in 1889 that “The theo- ries and methods of Pestalozzi and Froebel have permeated elementary schools, and science and other modern knowledges, have entered the uni- versities and are working their way downward through secondary educa- tion.”’6 This may have surprised the graduates, since their academic success was mostly a testimony to the power of memorization and recitation of a traditional sort. But many educators like Emerson, searching for a way to improve their craft and answer their perennial critics, thought change was imminent and inevitable thanks to new ideas from abroad. As a contribu- tor to The ScboolJournal, based in New York and Chicago, said in 1895, “The educational world, as i t is spoken of here, has existed from only a modern date. It took on a distinct form when the impact of the Pestalozzian wave struck our shores.’”’ Indeed, Horace Mann, Henry Barnard, and other promoters of a gen- tler pedagogy eagerly publicized the romantic ideals emanating from Europe, which assailed memorization, textbooks, physical discipline, and the usual features of the neighborhood school. Children, as Whitman said, were “stores of mystic meaning,” not empty vessels waiting to be filled with use- ”Walt Whitman, “An Old Man’s Thought of School, For the Inauguration of a Pub- lic School, Camden, New Jersey, 1874,” in Walt Whitman: The Complete Poems, ed. Francis Murphy (New York: Penguin Books, c. 1986), 41 8-19. In “Song ofMyself,” he typically wrote “A morning-glory at my windows satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.” But, as a former teacher, he often showed great respect for teachers and their labors, and was quite familiar with Locke’s writings and the soft pedagogical ideals of Horace Mann and other con- temporaries. See Florence Bernstein Freedman, Walt Whitman Looks at the Schools (New York: King’s Crown Press, Columbia University, 1950); and David S. Reynolds, Walt W h i m a n ? America: A Cultural Biography (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1995), 15-16, 34-35, 52-63, 75. l6E.E. White, “Address to Graduates,” Pennsyluania SchoolJournal38 (October 1889): 153. ‘“‘The Educational World,” The School3oumal5 1 (October 5, 1895): 289. The Origins of Progressive Education 11 less knowledge through brutal methods. But something had obviously gone wrong. Otherwise he could not have alluded to the “tiresome” methods of the school in his poem in 1874. Changing school practices along the lines of the European masters was no simple matter. Mann himself had antici- pated the future by sponsoring city-wide examinations in Boston in 1845 to demonstrate what children had learned a t school, knowledge largely acquired by memorizing facts contained in textbooks. Written tests had become the rage after the Civil War, especially in the cities, where admis- sion to high school still required mastery of traditional textbook knowledge and passing a rigorous test. Recitations, too, retained their high place on all levels of instruction in the 1870s. Learning the value of work, not play, discipline, not doing as one pleased, said many citizens, were among the most important lessons taught at school. Textbook salesmen continued to hawk their ubiquitous stock, a familiar part of the business of education. Many teachers still tried to teach caged birds to sing.“ As in every transfer of ideas, American child-centered educators and reformers reworked Pestalozzi and Froebel in ways that made sense to them. Born t o middle-class parents in 1746, Pestalozzi wrote extensively in Rousseauian fashion on the power of nature, while elevating the spiritual and practical significance of womanhood and motherhood through his ide- alized views on peasant women, which had more than a hint of nostalgia for the countryside. This was music to the ears of northern middle-class Americans in the nineteenth century, as cities and factories transformed the landscape. An early enthusiast of the French Revolution, Pestalozzi ulti- mately recoiled just like other early romantics against its violent turn, cen- tering his hope for the future in education and social cooperation, not political radicalism and conflict.’” That, too, made him palatable to urban reformers. An avowed socialist such as Robert Owen found Pestalozzi’s writings and model schools on the continent one of several sources of inspiration for infant schools and for his wider communitarian experiments in New Lanark and New Harmony. But the famous Swiss educator embedded his views in a mystical but clearly Christian world view, which furthered his appeal among middle-class reformers building schools in capitalist Amer- ica. His writings sometimes evoked a pantheistic flavor, a synthesis of nat- uralistic and Christian imagery, common to romantics of his generation. Besides criticizing the horrors of traditional, adult-centered education and invokmg the child’s innocence, Pestalozzi explained that a mother could I n o n testing and the controversies surrounding it, see Reese, OrigiTzs, 142-61. O n the traditional emphasis on rote memorization and didactic teaching, see Carl F. Kaestle, Pillars of the Repablic: Common Schools and American Society, 1780-1 860 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1983), 18,45-46,97; Reese, Origins, 132-41; and Cremin, Transfrmation, 20-21. “Cutek, Pestalozzi and Edzrration, 6-8, 70-73. 12 History of Education Quarterly teach the child “to lisp the name of God on her bosom” and to see “him the All-loving in the rising sun, in the rippling brook, in the branches of the trees, in the splendor of the flower, in the dewdrops.”” Like many romantics, he personified Nature as female, the grver of life, seemingly syn- onymous with all that was holy and good. His message on the power of women as educators made sense to many American educators, who wit- nessed the transformation of the public school teaching force from male to female, especially in the primary and elementary grades.” Even Pestalozzi’s garden-variety slurs on Jesuits and the Papacy as the source of many evil school practices would hardly undermine his pop- ularity among educational reformers.” Otherwise gentle folk, such as the Reverend Horace Bushnell, a neighbor and ally of Henry Barnard’s in Con- necticut, could invoke themes of childhood benevolence and Christian nur- ture in one breath and spew forth anti-Catholic diatribes in another.” Finally, by saying that children learned best by experience with concrete objects, guided by the maternal power of educators, Pestalozzi’s popularity seemed assured. T o the northern Protestant middle classes, there was something practical and comforting in his overall message. Those who visited Pestalozzi’s model schools, read his writings, or even taught with him, however, had found inspiration, not an infallible guide to the future. A former colleague who later opened an upper-class male boarding school in Britain, supposedly on Pestalozzian lines, insisted that the grand master’s ideals were more important than how they were ‘“Pestalozzi, How Gertrude, 192. On Owen, see Beatty, Preschool Edncation, 1-2, 17-19; and Arthur Bestor, Backwoods Utopias: The Sectarian Origins and the Owenite Phase of Commu- nitarian Socialism in America, 1663-1 829 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, c. 1970), 138-39. “Gutek, Pestalozzi andEdwation, 61 -67; Beatty, Beschool Education, 1 1 -12; and Pestalozzi, How Gertmde, where the themes of motherhood, morality, Christianity, and educational good- ness intertwine. T h e significance of images of motherhood and a feminine Nature in roman- tic poetry is underscored in Barbara Shapiro, The Romantic Mother: Narcissistic Patterns in Romantic Poetry (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983), ix. Feminist criticism of male romantic poets and writers are extensive and diverse; they often critique the men for appropriating “female” virtues such as empathy and nurture, already important themes in women’s writings by the eighteenth century. For a small sampling of this literary criticism, see Anne K. Mellor, ed., Romanticism and Feminism (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988); and Meena Alexander, Women in Romanticism: Mary Wollstonerraji, Dorothy Wordrworth, and Mary Shelly (Savage, MD: Barnes and Noble Books, 1989). ?‘See Pestalozzi, How Gertrude, 46, 104, 146, 1 5 3 , where he offers slurs on “monhsh” education and barbarian peoples, presumably Slavs and Italians, and calls for the elimination of “Gothic monkish educational rubbish.” ”Reese, Origins, 52. For a taste of Bushnell’s views, see Horace Bushnell, Common Schools: A Discourse on the Modifications Demanded ly the Roman Catholics, Delivered in the North Church, HaMord, On the Day of the Last Fast, March 25, 1853. (Harrford, CT: Press of Cass, Tiffany, and Company, 1853). Unless Catholics (and Jews) were willing to send their chil- dren to Catholic schools, and the former end their campaign to divide the school fund, Bush- nell urged them all to leave the country. The Origins of Progressive Education 1 3 implemented. So he dropped many of Pestalozzi’s ideas and practices.” Despite the fame of his model schools, Pestalozzi emphasized educating better mothers and improving home-based education, but that did not stop those seehng to spread his ideals into schools. And the inconsistencies in his writings allowed child-centered educators and activists on opposite sides of a question to claim him as their authority. His insistence upon educat- ing the head, heart, and hand led some reformers to demand vocational education for the masses. Others, like Ralph Waldo Emerson, endorsed manual labor schools but said one should be educated for life, not merely for work.” In addition, Pestalozzi’s search for a science of education, where he invoked the spirit of empiricism and rationalism, inspired disciples on both sides of the Atlantic to create variations on a formal method-object teaching-that proved as rigid as any other pedagogical system. A former student who actually attended one of Pestalozzi’s model schools noted that from a child’s perspective, “ W h a t was so emphatically called Pestalozzi’s method was an enigma to us. So it was to our teachers. Like the disciples of Socrates, every one of them interpreted the master’s doctrines in his own fashion; but we were far from the times when these divergencies created discord, when our chief masters, after having each one of them laid claim to be the only one who really understood Pestalozzi, ended by declaring that Pestalozzi did not really understand himself.”26 However holy, his pedagogical fog could be impenetrable. Much the same was said about John Dewey’s prose over a century later, as innovative edu- cators med to translate it into educational programs and practices. His prose was variously called “lumbering and bumbling” or, as William James said, “damnable; you might even say God-damnable.”” Discord usually follows the lives of educational rebels, and Pestalozzi was no exception. Like Wordsworth’s Prelude, How Gertrmde Teaches Her Children was semiautobiographical, and it includes discussions of his bat- tles with bullheaded, working-class parents, certain he is using their chil- dren as guinea pigs, and with rival teachers a t his middle-class model schools unhappy with, among other things, his failure to balance the books. Every- one who worked with the poor, Pestalozzi said, knew the difficulties in try- ing to teach them. Their dlction was bad, and their parents wanted traditional discipline and religious orthodoxy ever present in the classroom. “Let him who lives among such people come forward and bear witness, if he has not ‘’Downs, Pestalozzi, 117-18; and Gutek, Pestalozzi and Education, 159-60. ”Middle-class Americans were also attracted to Pestalozzi’s emphasis on the individ- ual, which appealed to those who wanted to nurture an ethos of personal responsibility among the young. Emerson even cited him in his famous call for American literary independence, “ T h e American Scholar,” in Ziff, SelectedEssays, 103. ‘“Quoted in Downs, Pestalozzi, 7 1. ‘-Quoted in Cremin, Transfornation, 2 3 7 . 14 History o f Education Quarterly experienced how troublesome it is to get any idea into the poor creatures. But everyone agrees about this”--from the magstrates to the clergy. When he tried teaching the worhng classes without the standard books or cate- chism in a school in Burgdorf, “They decided a t a meeting that they did not wish experiments made on their children with the new teaching; the burghers might try on their own.”’s Progressive educators for decades to come would ask whether child-centered methods had any chance among the children of the poor. In the end, they would conclude, like many Amer- ican advocates of kindergartens-the romantic reform par excellence-that the innovations should stress moral education and social control when it came to the urban poor. Thus were child-centered ideals among the mid- dle classes continually shaped by social position.’y Froebelian ideas and practices also provided enormous inspiration for the champions of the child and faced continual reinterpretation after the mid-nineteenth century, when German emigres spread the kindergarten gospel after the failed Revolution of 1848. Born in one of the German states in 1782, Froebel drew upon an eclectic source of Enlightenment and roman- tic writings, and upon a variety of experiences that included an apprentice- ship to a forester and military service against Napoleon, as he fashioned his educational ideas in the early nineteenth century. He studied with Pestalozzi, taught in several schools, and similarly emphasized the heightened signifi- cance of motherhood, womanhood, and early education along natural lines.“’ Inventing an elaborate, highly symbolic, graduated series of what he called gifts and occupations, Froebel cast the kindergarten in the red hot glow of Christian pantheism. The child of a Lutheran minister, Froebel, like Pestalozzi, had a very unhappy childhood, but he grew up in a spiritual world rich in symbolism. More boohsh than his Swiss counterpart, he had similar finan- cial problems but became a teacher when “he accepted the call from ’“Pestalozzi, How Getrude, 113. Pestalozzi added that it was understandable that those in the expensive seats at the theater scorned those in the pit, t h a t employers complained about workers not following orders, and so forth. As a result of faulty teaching methods in the lower schools, he concluded, society bore the blame for the depressed state of Christianity in Europe among the poor and the resulting low state of moral life. ”Beatty, Preschool Education, chapters 5-6; Robert Wollons, “Introduction,” in Kinder- gartens and Cultures: The Global Dzfiuion of an Idea, ed. Roberta Wollons (New Haven: Yale University Press, ZOOO), 7; Barbara Beatty, “‘The Letter Killeth’: Americanization and Mul- ticultural Education in Kindergartens in the United States, 1856-1920,” in Kindergartens nnd Cultures, 42-55; and Selwyn K. Troen, The Public and the Schools: Shaping the St. Louis System, 1838-1920 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1975), chapter 5, on the early establish- ment of kmdergartens in a major city. ’“For a sense of the range of intellectual and social forces that shaped Froebel’s life and educational views, see Robert B. Downs, F$-iedrich Froebel (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1978); Beatty, Preschool Education, chapter 3 ; Michael Steven Shapiro, Child’s Garden: The Kinder- garten Mouementfiom Froebel to Dewey (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1983), chapter 2; and the innovative volume by Norman Brosterman, Inventing findergarten (New York: Harry N. Ahrams, Inc., Publishers, 1997), chapter 1. The Origins of Progressive Education 1s Providence.”” Put the concrete before the abstract and experience before books in the education of little chddren both men, and their disciples, would say. Froebel’s writings were a fascinating blend of naturalism and Christian piety, as when he described the kindergarten: “As in a garden, under God’s favor, and by the care of a skilled, intelligent gardener, growing plants are cultivated in accordance with Nature’s laws. . . .7’31 In one of history’s many ironic twists of fate, Prussia banned the kmdergarten in 185 1, the year before Froebel’s death, since religious and political radicals and women activists had championed, and thus cast sus- picion upon, the innovation. As historian Roberta Wollons explains, how- ever, the kindergarten, ever malleable, ultimately found favor in many different corners of the world, championed by dictators and democrats alike.” Froebel’s hndergarten, melding the sweet sounds of nature, human goodness, social harmony, holiness, and maternalism into a pedagogical symphony, proved as appealing and flexible in America as Pestalozzi’s broad- er educational philosophy. Middle- and upper-class women, whether mor- alizing reformers o r champions of the liberation of the child, found in Froebel what they wanted. T h e well-known transcendentalist, Elizabeth Peabody, became a leading champion of the kindergarten, yet hardly read any of Froebel’s writings, which could be alternatively obtuse and highly prescriptive. And as Barbara Beatty explains, in her already standard histo- ry of early childhood education, the kindergarten had to be Americanized before it could find favor with the urban middle classes.’+ Many scholars have shown that America’s kindergarten advocates divided into rival camps, each claiming true discipleship and possessing the authentic vision.” Froebel’s followers substantially revised the master’s highly formalized gifts and occupations, and the commercialization of kindergarten materials (principally to make money, not to produce pan- theists) further undermined any uniform kindergarten ideal. Froebel hoped ”Quoted in Downs, Froehel, 19. “Ibid., 42. Froebel thus wrote of the child in Pedagogics of the Kndergarten, Or, His Ideas Corzcerning the Play and Playthings of the Child (New York: D. Appleton, c. 1899, translated by Josephine Jarvis), 7: “Man, as child, resembles the flower on the plant, the blossom on the tree; as these are in relation to the tree, so is the child in relation to humanity: a young bud, a blossom; and as such, it bears, includes, and proclaims the ceaseless reappearance of new human life.” “Wollons, “Introduction,” 1-14; Ann Taylor Allen, “Children Between Public and Private Worlds: T h e Kindergarten and Public Policy in Germany, 1856-1920,” in Kinder- gartensaizd Cultures, 16-37; and Joachim Liebschner, A Child’s Work: Freedom and Play in Froe- bel’s Educational Theory and Practice (Cambridge: T h e Lutterworth Press, c. 1992), chapter 8. “On Peabody, see Louise Hall Tharp, The Peabody Sisters of Salem (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1950), chapter 2 5 ; Reatty, Preschool Education, 57-64; and Beatty, “‘The Letter Killeth’,” 46. ‘<In addition to the previously cited scholarship by Beatty and Wollons, also read Eve- lyn Weber, The Kindergaiten: Its Encounter with Educational Thozight i n America (New York: Teachers College Press, 1969), x, chapters 3-4; and Shapiro, Child’s Garden, chapters 5-6. 16 Histoly of Education Quarter4 that the kindergarten would reach all children, but America’s public schools, despite important exceptions, adopted them very slowly. Moreover, those built for the urban poor often wore the badge of class stigma. T o the north- ern middle classes, the kmdergarten might help promote social mobility for their own children but for the laboring, increasingly immigrant mass- es, the emphasis was on discipline, control, and moral uplift.J6 Thanks to Pestalozzi, Froebel, and their acolytes, games, stories, play, and more infor- mal learning experiences became part of a widened educational discourse, but the question of social class bias in child-centered progressivism would never disappear. III After the Civil War, the American champions of the new education frequently invoked the names of Pestalozzi, Froebel, and other European romantics, along with a wider range of writers and theorists who, while more conservative in their views, similarly placed greater emphasis on the importance of education in the lives of children. Despite their many dif- ferences, advocates of a “new education” insisted that young children, who should be educated in kindly and natural ways, learned best not through books but through sensory experience and contact with real objects. Kinder- gartners soon fought over the best way to plant and cultivate children’s gar- dens. Many others who wanted to humanize and enliven instruction in the expanding public schools saw Pestalozzian object teaching as the cure for many pedagogical ills. They faced a difficult battle, since the forces of tra- dition proved very powerful, as various European romantics and innova- tors had earlier discovered. And yet the champions of the child persevered. T h e great European thinkers had demonstrated that most educational maladies could be cor- rected, said Calvin M. Woodward, the nation’s leading advocate of manu- al training, if young people of all ages worked with their hands. Class conflict, industrial alienation, and urban violence could be averted if the schools did their part for humanity. “Did you ever see one whose mind was nauseated with spelling books, lexicons, and grammars, and an endless hash of words and definitions?” Woodward asked in 1885, “And did you, in such a case, call in the two doctors, Johann Pestalozzi and Friedrich Froebel? And did you watch the magic influence of a diet of things prescribed by the former in the place of words, and a little various practice in doing, in the place of talking, under the direction of the latter?”” In the South following Recon- struction, white racists cited Pestalozzi approvingly, saying schools which ’6Beatty, Preschool Education, chapter 4. ”C. M. Woodward, untitled connibution,JournalofEducation 22 (December 24, 1885): 411. The Origins of Progressive Education 17 emphasized books had no place in the education of African Americans. T h e ex-slaves were lazy, said many white educators, and extensive book-knowl- edge for the masses (as Booker T. Washington and others agreed) was a luxury society could ill afford. As one North Carolinian fancifully believed, Pestalozzi had helped turn a “poor, shiftless, helpless Swiss peasantry” into modern, virtuous, hard-working capitalists. Without manual training for the working-class children, white and especially black, crime would persist and the chain gang remain a necessity.3x Like other northern activists, the charismatic Francis W. Parker, who also wanted to break “the chains of the old education,” envisioned a boun- tiful pedagogical future. He was widely quoted for condemning pall parrot teaching and the emotional slaughter of the innocents in the classroom. Too many teachers, he reported, worried about such trivial matters as a shortage of teaching apparatus; they lacked sufficient imagination. In a clear reference to the Swiss master, Parker asked, “Have we not pebbles, and shells, and leaves, and flowers, and the free ~ k i e s ? ” ’ ~ Edward Sheldon, who established a model normal school in Oswego, New York, that became a Mecca for progressive teachers, saw object teaching as a panacea. Though he claimed to have devised his theories prior to learning about Pestalozzi, he shared the master’s desire to discover the “laws of childhood” by observ- ing children. Like his counterparts on both sides of the Atlantic, he com- plained about the rigidities of the old education and tried to surround hmself with like-minded teachers, who similarly proclaimed that schools had an exaggerated interest in books and words and not in things and Nature.” An anti-intellectual strain was fundamental in many child-centered educators, who saw a broad array of sensory experiences as the basis of edu- cation and often emphasized transcendence, intuition, and feeling. T h e y ’““Cooking and Sewing in Colored Grade School of Durham, N.C.,” North Carolina j’oumal of Education 3 (November 1899): 10-1 1. On the opposition of African-Americans to white attempts to water down their academic instruction, see James D. Anderson, The Edu- cation ofBlacks in the South, 1860-1935 (Chapel Hill: T h e University of North Carolina Press, 1988). ”Col. F. W. Parker, “Training that Educates,” W i s c ~ i n ~ o z i m u l o f E d w a t i o n 13 (Novem- ber 1883): 445. ?“E. A. Sheldon, A Manual of Elementary Instruction, For the Use of Public and Private Schools and Normal Classes; Containing a Graduated Course of OBYECT LESSONSfor the Train- ing [ofl the Senses and Developing the Farzllties of Children (New York: Charles Scribner & Co., c. 1869), 5, 1 5 , 96; M a r y Sheldon Barnes, ed., Autobiography of Edward Austin Sheldon (New York: Ives-Butler Company, I91 l), 124; and Ned Harland Dearborn, The Oswego Movement in American Education (New York: Teachers College, Columbia University, 1925), 16-17, which perceptively notes the messianic, religious, and educational views shared by Sheldon and Pestalozzi. T h e commanding place of textbooks in the Oswego, New York, schools remained an impediment to the rise of object teaching, as a committee of educators reported to the National Teachers’ Association in 1865. See S.S. Greene, “Object Teaching: Its Gen- eral Principles, and the Oswego System,” in Pestalozzi and His Educational System, ed. Henry Barnard (Syracuse: C.W. Bardeen, Publisher, 188I), 455. 18 History of Education Quarterly could ably cite key passages in the writings of European romantics which questioned the importance of books, textbooks, grammars, and catechisms in the instruction of the young. In Emile, Rousseau had called reading “the greatest plague of childhood.” In 1801, Pestalozzi boasted that he had not read a book in thirty years. Wordsworth playfully told everyone to put away their books: “Books! Tis a dull and endless strifeKOme, hear the woodland linnet . . . . Come forth into the light of t h i n g d l e t nature be your teach- er.”” But schools, and their books, were here to stay. And popular suspi- cion about the life of the mind, as hstorian Richard Hofstadter once wrote, had multiple sources in the American past.+‘ In a century marked by recurrent religious revivals among Protestant denominations, child-centered school reformers actually deepened the wider evangelical faith among countless educators and citizens that schools could improve and perhaps perfect society. T h e mystical, quasi-religious, and Christian imagery that often found prominence in European romanticism (especially in Pestalozzi and Froebel) also found ample expression here. Many activists traveled to Europe to examine model schools first hand, much like religious pilgrims seelung inspiration, personal salvation, and human redemption. A religious aura frequently surrounded those who lob- bied for kindergartens or manual training or who published progressive training manuals or articles and books on the new education. A beautiful, radiant Madonna graced the cover of one kindergarten manual by William Hailmann, among the nation’s leading proponents of kindergartens and object teaching.” I n 1892, Louisa Parsons Hopkms, a supervisor of teach- ers in Boston, published a book entitled The Spirit of the New Education. Like other reformers, she attacked the “medievalism” of the schools and their unnatural preoccupation with “an exclusively book education.” In addition, upon visiting one kindergarten, she experienced an epiphany. T h e teacher and her tender charges sang joyfully and engaged playfully in their class- room activities. It was like a “baptism of the spirit.” “There was an ineffa- ble sweetness, and almost holiness, about the atmosphere of the place. The children’s faces were lighted up with real inspiration and interest, and one could almost see a tongue of flame on the forehead of the teacher^."^ “The Emile ofJean~acques Romseau, edited by William Boyd (New York: Teachers Col- lege Press, c . 197 l ) , 5 1; Pestalozzi, How Gertli~de, 2 5 (the volume is filled with slurs on books); and William Wordsworth, “ T h e Tables Turned: An Evening Scene on the Same Subject,” in William Wordsworth: The Poems, ed. John 0. Hayden (New York: Penguin Books, c. 1990): I : 3 5 7 . “Richard Hofstadter, Anti-Intellertzialrsmzm in Americun Life (New York: Vintage Books, 1962). ?’See W.N. Hailmann, Law of ChiMhood, and Other Papers (Chicago: Alice B. Stockham & Co., 1889), among his many writings. +‘Louisa Parsons Hopluns, The Spirit of the New Education (Boston: Lee and Shepard Publishers, 1892), 9, 20-2 1. The Origins of Propessive Education 19 Appropriately, a fine reproduction of the Madonna hung on the classroom wall, a fitting image of the mother’s role as savior. T h e Madonna, so sig- nificant to Catholic women’s devotion, had crossed into a largely Protes- tant world that frequently retained anti-Catholic sentiments even within polite middle-class circles.” Leading school men of the age, from editors of mainstream educa- tional magazines to administrators, were insulted by the many charges hurled at their institutions. Calling Parker an “apostle of the new education,” a writer in the Pennsylvania SchoolJoumal simply remarked, “If Col. Parker is right, nearly all of us are wrong.”” In the 1870s, William T. Harris, St. Louis’s famous superintendent, led the nation in establishing public kinder- gartens and science instruction in the primary grades. But he remained sus- picious of utopian claims on behalf of manual training and sugary views of the child, defended the importance of academics, and warned that starry- eyed teachers seemed more impressed with their bug collections and field trips than in the unglamourous task of teaching children to read. Harris presciently said that manual training would evolve into a class-based voca- tional system, anti-intellectual in tone and undemocratic in practice.’” Emer- son E. White similarly mocked the grandiose claims of manual training advocates: “I shall not be surprised to hear some enthusiast say that man- ual training is the only road to heaven. Every other possible claim has been made for it.’’iX Still other critics of the new education rejected the notion that play, and not work, should be the basis of a sound education, and even worried that the lundergarten, despite the saccharine image, was often a “disorderly n ~ r s e r y . ” ‘ ~ T h e late nineteenth century was a difficult time to be a child-cen- tered educator, a t least if one wanted to overturn the familiar practices of the common school. That the interests of the child should guide classroom instruction was given a boost in the 1880s and 1890s thanks to the follow- ers of Johann Friedrich Herbart (1 776- 1841), but resistance to change was +On urban middle-class Protestant fascination with Catholicism, see TJ. Jackson Lears, No Place ojGrace: Aiztimodeniism and the Traiisfioimatioii ofAmerican Ciiltiire, 1880-1 920 (New York: Pantheon Books, 1981). “William L. Ballantine, “Examinations,” Peiznsylz~ania SchoolJvziinal 32 (May 1883): 437. ‘-William J. Reese, “The Philosopher-King of St. Louis,” in Ciirvirulzim & Conseqzience: Herbelt M . Kliebard and the Promise of Schooling, ed. Barry M . Franklin (New York: Teachers College Press, ZOOO), 165, 171-72. ‘“‘Manual Training,”Jozirnal ofEdiication 3 5 (March 3, 1892): 134. T h e same article quoted William Hailinann, who wrote approvingly of manual training as essential in teach- ing social cooperation, work hahits, and hand and eye coordination, arguments common at the time. ‘“‘Drift,”Jm~nzal ofEdziratioi7 19 (May 2 2 , 1881): 326. This editorial takes a swipe at Hailmann and other kindergarten enthusiasts. 20 Histoly of Education Qua.te.4 pervasive.j0 Of course, depending on what books or journals one read or classrooms one visited, citizens could conclude that the schools had wit- nessed a pedagogical revolution and the annihilation of tradition, or its opposite. In a richly diverse nation, with hundreds of thousands of public schools spreading into the poorest, least populated, and recently settled corners of the nation, America had examples aplenty to confirm or deny educational change, the watchword of the era. In 1896, however, a deject- ed contributor to the SchoolJournal sadly wrote that “the study of pedagogy has been, and still is, derided by what may be termed the Three R men. They have said and still say that it is enough to know the subjects to be taught, and how to keep order.”j’ Another writer similarly feared that a “dead common school tone” prevailed in many classrooms.” Without question, there was abundant evidence that teachers still forced children to memorize knowledge learned from ubiquitous textbooks. Charles Francis Adams, Jr., who helped publicize Francis Parker’s labors as superintendent in Quincy, Massachusetts in the 1870s, said that before the latter’s arrival the town schools hired teachers who “unconsciously” made pupils into “parrots.” Children would “glibly chatter out the bound- aries and capitals, and principal towns and rivers of States and nation, and enumerate the waters you pass through and the ports you would make in a voyage from Boston to Calcutta, or New York to St. Petersburg.”j) Park- er’s stay in Quincy proved to be short-lived; he was off to Boston in 1880, where he would face another round of resistance to change. Other exam- ples of hostility to the spirit of the new education abounded. In 1882, a study of “common school studies” sponsored by the United States Bureau of Education discovered that teachers still spent most of their time on the basics. T h e purpose of instruction, said the researcher, seemed to be “the guessing of so many riddles” and memorizing incredible quantities of facts. Drill and recitation were more common than exercises that tapped the imag- ination.” Teachers everywhere frequently spent most of their time drilling chil- dren in the basic subjects. A foreign visitor to several New York City schools in the 1890s was struck by the heavy reliance on memorization: “I heard in one class the boys get up one after another recording the names, dates, and ”‘For a masterful history of Herbartian ideas and their American expressions, see Kath- leen Anne Cruikshank, “The Rise and Fall of American Herbartianism: Dynamics of an Edu- cational Reform Movement,” (Ph.D. dissertation, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1993). ”Editorial, The School~ournalS3 (September/October 1896): 388. ’?Editorial, WisconsinJournal of Education 2 8 (August 1898): 169. ”Charles F. Adams, Jr., The N m Departure m the Common Schools of Quinq and Other Paperson Educational Topics (Boston: Estes and Lauriat, 1879), 33,43. “John M. Gregory, “Some Fundamental Inquiries Concerning the Common School Studies,” Circulars of Information of the Bureau of Edzication (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1882), 87. The Origins of Progressive Education 2 1 chief performances of the eighteen presidents of the United States. In anoth- er school, the girls recited in order the names of the principal inventors and discovers, with a description of the exploits of each.’’is By the time Joseph Mayer k c e published his celebrated book attacking the old education in 1893, a generation of reformers had come to realize that despite some cel- ebrated victories, tradition had proven more than a little enduring. A pedi- atrician, Rice catalogued the usual litany of problems in urban, graded schools, where children memorized materials they did not understand, teachers resembled Gradgrind, and cram was king.” T h e advocates of the new education could point to some triumphs. T h e curriculum in some urban districts had been enriched by object teach- ing, occasionally by lundergarten classes, and even more by manual train- ing classes of great variety and quality. Nature study and field trips were not unknown. Even Rice noticed an occasional ray of light in the city sys- tems. In Indianapolis, Nebraska Cropsey, the supervisor of elementary teachers and alumnae of Oswego, had introduced and encouraged more active, natural teaching methods in some schools.” Maybe other places would take heed. And yet the apostles of the new education were aware that the seeds of reform often died on the hard soil of tradition. Even Harris in 1891 complained about the excessive preoccupation with memorization in the schools, where sing-song drill, question-and-answer teaching methods, and the heavy use of textbooks remained common.j8 Despite all the fears of traditional educators, the schools had not been won over by child-centered education. Books remained central to the pub- lic schools, and the familiar basics had not been crowded out by fashion- able romantic substitutes. T h e messianic visions of a Colonel Parker, Hailmann, or countless child-centered progressives were difficult to trans- late into reality. Real schools and ordinary teachers valued the traditional curriculum, books, and old-fashioned pedagogy. That was how most teach- ers had been taught. T o their credit, early progressives often recognized that primers on object teaching, kindergartens, and manual training could deteriorate into formula, rules and regulations, and question-and-answer ’7.G. Fitch, Notes o n American Schools and Training Colleges (London: Macmillan and Company, 1890), 5 1. ’“Joseph Mayer Rice, The Public-School System ofthe United States (New York: Cenis- ry, 1893). ”Rice, Public-School System, 93, 101-15; and Laura Gaus, “Nebraska Cropsey,” in The Enyclopedia of Indzunupolzs, ed. David J. Bodenhamer and Robert G . Barrows (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994), 483. “William T . Harris, “The Present Status of Education in the United States,”Jozirnal ofEducation 34 (August 13, 1891): 101, where he wrote: “The elementary school will always have the character of memory work stamped upon it, no matter how much the educational reforms may improve its methods. It is not easy to over-value the impulse of such men as Pestalozzi and Froebel; but the child’s mind cannot seize great syntheses.” 2 2 History of Education Quarterly formats, an odd result for a movement that began as an assault on formal- ism and expressed supreme faith in intuition and the individual. Turning romantic ideas into a program was never easy, and critics noticed the irony of discovering kindergarten and manual-training teachers instructing step- by-step from guides and primers.” And after the idea of formulating a “sci- ence of education” resurfaced late in the century, o r i p a l l y as part of scientific child study, children were soon measured by percentages and known by their placement on the curve.6o Middle-class private experimental schools, university laboratory schools, and a handful of suburban school districts would keep child-centered progressivism alive, but working-class parents, suspicious of their betters and more supportive of the basics in all things, would usually remain outside of their orbit.6’ As Pestalozzi had said in a dif- ferent context, they did not like having experiments performed on their children. It is not coincidental that the most famous American theorists of the new education were not teachers or if so left the classroom quickly. T h e transcendentalist and romantic poets beat a quick retreat for larger public roles. Susan Blow, who headed the lundergartens in St. Louis, apparently influenced hundreds of teachers through her training courses and lectures and became an outspoken defender of Froebelian While serv- ing as public school administrators, both Edward Sheldon and William Hailmann had faced resistance from teachers and parents. But Sheldon ulti- mately spent decades a t the helm of a prestigious, progressive normal school a t Oswego, and Hailmann moved on to other administrative posts, where he championed manual training, kindergartens, and object teaching6’ When ”See John Dewey’s perceptive comments in Dmon-acy and Education: A n Introduction t o the Philosophy ofEdmation (New York: T h e Free Press, c. 1944), 58-59, 198-99. T h e book was originally published in 1916. 60Max van Manen, “Romantic Roots of Human Science in Education,” in Educational Legacy, ed. Willinsky, 115-39. 61Patricia Albjerg Graham, Progressive Education: From Arcady t o Academe, A History of The Progressive Education Association (New York: Teachers College Press, 1967), 8-16; and Arthur Zilversmit, Changing Schools: Progressive Education Theory and Practice, 19?0-1960 (Chica- go: University of Chicago Press, 1993). “Shapiro, Child’s Garden, 60-63; and Barbara Beatty, ‘‘Susan Elizabeth Blow,” in His- torical Dictionary ofAmerican Edncation, ed. Richard J. Altenbaugh (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1999), 48. “Will S. Monroe, History of the Pestalozzian Movement in the United States (Syracuse: C.W. Bardeen, Publisher, 1907), 179, briefly describes the reaction against Sheldon’s system by local residents. After serving as superintendent of schools in LaPorte, Indiana, for nine years, Hailmann reported continued resistance from parents, since he reduced the tradition- al emphasis on textbooks and increased classroom time spent on drawing and manual train- ing and “experimental” methods. See Report of the Public Schools ofLaPolte, lndiana,for the School Year 1891-1 892 (LaPorte, Indiana: Wadsworth & Kessler, 1892), 11. O n Hailmann’s varied career, see Beatty, Preschool Education; William J. Reese, “Urban School Reform in the Pro- gressive Era,” in Hoosier Schools: Past & Present, ed. William J. Reese (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998), 44; and Ted Stahly, “Curricular Reform in an Industrial Age,” in Hoosier Schools, 62-63, 65-66. T h e Origins of Progressive Education 2 3 asked to reminiscence about her high school teacher, John Dewey, a woman vividly recalled that he was unable to control the unruly boys and led a school prayer that was unusually long. As a college teacher, he often lec- tured and students labored to stay awake, even if their notes revealed his brilliance.6’ People who were charismatic like Colonel Parker, however, were not called apostles and prophets for nothing-they inspired many who found the classroom experience dull and deadening, as student and teach- er. Reformers assumed at times that their charisma would infect others and thus help transform school bureaucracies, which became bloated in the cities. As reformers moved out of the classroom and into administrative positions, they found t h a t changing practice was not impossible but extreme- ly difficult. T h e advocates of the new education had nevertheless invented a whole new vocabulary and way of thinking about the child, the curriculum, and the purposes of schools. What they said and attempted to implement remained an important legacy for future child-centered activists. Dewey became the patron saint of something called progressive education, even though he, like his friend Harris, criticized its romantic side.6’ But by the turn of the century, many school critics would say that the child should be an active, not passive, learner; that the teacher should be a guide, not master; that the curriculum should adapt to a changing industrial society, not remain lodged in the past; and that something needed to be done about the many incom- petent teachers who sent their pupils to nearly eternal sleep. When he pub- lished “My Pedagogical Creed” in 1897, Dewey himself had exemplified the highly spiritual, mystical, quasi-religious side of the new education by claiming that “the teacher always is the prophet of the true God and the usherer in of the true l n g d o m of God.”66 T h e language of reform became more secular in the twentieth century, but a millennia1 faith in the gospel of education never disappeared. Child-centered education had been born in an age of romance and revolution, in the rich soil of human imagination. Dreamers and visionar- “‘George Dyzhuizen, The Lifk and lZlind ofJohn Dewey (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1973), 25; Lagemann, Elusive Science, 52; and Russell B. Goodman, Ameri- can Philosophy aizd the Romantic Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 92. “In recent years, scholars have increasingly and properly recognized that Dewey opposed child-centered education. See, for example, Robert Westbrook, John Dewey and American Democraq (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991), 108-09; and Alan Ryan, John Devrey and the High Tide ofAmerican Liberalism (New York: W . W . Norton & Company, 1995), 134. 60John Dewey, “My Pedagogical Creed,” in Dewey on Education, ed. Martin S . D w o r h n (New York: Teachers College Press, 1959), 3 2 . O n the moral foundations of progressive reform generally, see Crunden, Ministers o f Refolm; and Timothy L. Smith, “Progressivism in American Education, 1880-19OO,”Ha?vard Educational Review 3 1 (Spring 1961): 173-74. Cruik- shank notes that the moral and spiritual foundations of Herbart’s ideas, which drew inspira- tion in part from Pestalozzi, helped in their popularization in America. See “ T h e Rise and Fall,” 873-74. 24 History of Education Quarterly ies from Europe knew that something was wrong with how children were treated and educated, and some sympathetic Americans agreed that only the stone hearted could ignore the prophetic words of the poet. Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: T h e Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness, But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy!67 6’William Wordsworth, “Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood,” in The Portable Romantics, 199. 
work_kgruhqhsbzfshpdv5ig3wz5gyq	----	Physics Must Evolve Beyond the Physical IDEAS AND OPINION Physics Must Evolve Beyond the Physical Deepak Chopra1 Received: 23 July 2018 /Accepted: 27 March 2019 /Published online: 29 April 2019 # The Author(s) 2019 Abstract Contemporary physics finds itself pondering questions about mind and consciousness, an uncomfortable area for theorists. But historically, key figures at the founding of quantum theory assumed that reality was composed of two parts, mind and matter, which interacted with each other according to some new laws that they specified. This departure from the prior (classical- physicalist) assumption that mind was a mere side effect of brain activity was such a startling proposal that it basically split physics in two, with one camp insisting that mind will ultimately be explained via physical processes in the brain and the other camp embracing mind as innate in creation and the key to understanding reality in its completeness. Henry Stapp made important contributions toward a coherent explanation by advocating John von Neumann’s orthodox interpretation of quantum mechanics. von Neumann postulated that at its basis, quantum mechanics requires both a psychological and physical component. He was left, however, with a dualist view in which the psychological and physical aspects of QM remained unresolved. In this article, the relevant issues are laid out with the aim of finding a nondual explanation that allows mind and matter to exist as features of the same universal consciousness, in the hope that the critical insights of Planck, Heisenberg, Schrödinger, von Neumann, and Stapp will be recognized and valued, with the aim of an expanded physics that goes beyond physicalist dogma. Keywords Stapp . Quantum reality . Linde . von Neumann . Orthodox interpretation . Consciousness Modern physics speaks in the language of advanced mathe- matics, which makes it nearly impossible for an outsider to penetrate the discussion over vital issues at the heart of sci- ence. But mathematics in this case is not pure. It serves as an instrument for elucidating concepts about reality. If concepts are the primary stuff of science—I think we would all agree that this is true—then a certain nervousness begins to creep in. Concepts are a form of mental activity, and as soon as mind enters the picture, physics finds itself peering over the fence into the nonphysical. The absolute need to transcend physical explanations brought me into contact with Henry Stapp a few years ago, and once we discovered that we shared a sense of urgency on the subject, we wrote a blog article, Is a Mind Element Needed to Interpret Quantum Mechanics? In the last century, theoret- ical physics has come to the realization that the world Bout there^ is disjointed from the mental world Bin here.^ The separation was reinforced by erecting a barrier between solid, concrete physical objects that can be explored objectively (through data collection, measurement, and experimentation) and the fickle, unstable, unreliable world of subjectivity. Prof. Stapp has long argued that mind is essential for grasp- ing not just quantum reality but reality as a whole. To summa- rize a few key points in our joint article, the founders of quan- tum theory assumed that reality was composed of two parts, mind and matter, which interacted with each other according to some new laws that they specified. This departure from the prior (classical-physicalist) assumption that mind was a mere side-effect of brain activity was such a startling proposal that it basically split physics in two, with one camp (the physicalists) insisting that matter alone, plus an element of quantum chance, determines every physical property of the universe, and the other camp embracing mind as the key to certain otherwise unexplained mysteries. For several decades now, the first physicalist approach has been ascendant in the minds of many working physicists. But the founders of quantum mechanics were ambitious enough to want an explanation for the wholeness of reality. Some dom- inant figures, among them Max Planck, Erwin Schrödinger, and Werner Heisenberg, took a conceptual leap into the * Deepak Chopra carolyn@chopra.com 1 The Chopra Foundation, Carlsbad, CA, USA Activitas Nervosa Superior (2019) 61:126–129 https://doi.org/10.1007/s41470-019-00042-3 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s41470-019-00042-3&domain=pdf http://orcid.org/0000-0001-5817-3551 mailto:carolyn@chopra.com nonphysical, advocating that consciousness was an irreducible aspect of creation. Here’s a sample of their public statements: From Planck, speaking to a reporter from The Observer newspaper in 1931: BI regard consciousness as fundamental. I regard matter as derivative from consciousness. We cannot get behind consciousness. Everything that we talk about, ev- erything that we regard as existing, postulates consciousness.^ From Schrödinger’s 1944 book, What Is Life?: BConsciousness cannot be accounted for in physical terms. For consciousness is absolutely fundamental. It cannot be accounted for in terms of anything else.^ From Heisenberg, delivering a direct assault on conventional scientific thinking: BThe atoms or elementary particles themselves are not real; they form a world of potentialities or possibilities rather than one of things or facts.^ The intention behind these statements was scientific, in- deed the ultimate in scientific thinking. As a mode of reduc- tionism, physics in the early twentieth century had made a breakthrough into the substratum of the quantum. In their own minds, Planck, Schrödinger, and Heisenberg were going to an even more fundamental level of nature, following the implications of quantum behavior. If this was the intention, it did not bear fruit. The immediate effect, in fact, was to damage their reputations. They were accused of wandering into meta- physics, still a term of denigration in science. They had placed mind before matter, which if taken seriously would have undermined the whole scheme of Bthings^ and Bfacts^ that Heisenberg repudiated. Working physics remained firmly em- bedded in things and facts, and even though quantum theory backed up Heisenberg’s depiction of pure potentiality (i.e., the wave function) and unpredictability at the core of nature, no- body saw their houses, cars, and labs vanishing into swirling quantum soup. With the classical world intact, business proceeded as usual. So matters stood, with the mainstream of physics occupied with Bthings^ and Bfacts,^ while on the fringes, the issue of mind was an exotic preoccupation of the few. But some mainstream theorists are grappling with the insight that consciousness cannot be left out of any valid explanation of nature as a whole. In a 1998 paper titled, with characteristically sweeping ambition, Universe, Life, Consciousness, the noted Russian-American physicist Andrei Linde rethought the relationship between phys- ics and reality. BAccording to standard materialistic doctrine,^ Linde asserted, Bconsciousness … plays a secondary, subservient role, being considered just a function of matter and a tool for the description of the truly existing material world.^ But matter is not actually the starting point of science, Linde pointed out. The real starting point is our perceptions, which we take to be trustworthy. Any model of reality that regards the world Bout there^ as a given is mistaken. What we describe as the world Bout there^ is a substitute for perception, and therefore only theoretical, while perception itself, without a doubt, is real to us. In other words, Linde was telling his fellow scientists that they had reversed the order of things by believing that theory was more trustworthy than direct experience. BThe [materialistic] the- ory is so successful that we almost never think about its limita- tions until we must address some really deep issues, which do not fit into our model of reality.^ Those Breally deep issues^ skirt metaphysics, which re- mains anathema to physicists. One way to frame the discus- sion is through what Stapp and others have labeled the Bmind- like^ behavior of the physical world. In what way does the universe display mind-like behavior? To return to the points made in the article co-written with Stapp, the basic features of the evolving universe that bring the action of mind into play are choices. For anything to actually Bhappen^ in quantum mechanics, two things have to occur. First, a person has to ask a yes/no question about whether they will have a certain experience or not, then nature has to choose the answer to their question, yes or no. So, there are two choices being made, one is the choice of the question being asked, and the second is the choice of the answer being given. The mathematical machinery of quantum mechanics is built around these paired choices of questions and answers. The an- swer to the posed question is specified by the famous quantum random choice. But how is the question chosen? The answer is Bby the mind of an observing agent, on the basis of the perceived needs of that organism.^ Thus, the key choices that play an essential role in the evolution of the universe come from mind. Freeman Dyson, who has been among the most eloquent and outspoken physicists on the matter, wrote in support of the same idea, BMatter in quantum mechanics is not an inert sub- stance, but an active agent, constantly making choices be- tween alternate possibilities–It appears that mind, as manifest- ed by the capacity to make choices, is to some extent inherent in every electron.^ Before the quantum revolution, billiard balls were often used as examples in physics because they neatly illustrate the laws of motion set down by Newton. Quantum mechanics replaced the table of billiard balls by a table filled with probability distribu- tions of particles. But probability distributions of particles are not the same as real distributions of particles. They are in some sense imaginary. They can be distributions existing in the imaginations or minds of human beings. The same holds for anything com- posed of elementary particles—as Hans Peter Durr, the former director of the Max Planck Institute declared, BMatter is not made of matter.^ Rather, matter is a human construct, an interpretation of human perceptual activity. In any case, the notion of the prob- ability distribution of particles seems to exist in a mind. But in quantum theory, the basic Bmaterial^ aspects of nature are essen- tially just these probability distributions. Consequently, both the mind-like and matter-like aspects of nature seem to be essentially mind-like. Quantum mechanics, as understood by its founders, shifted the foundations of physical science from what is described in Act Nerv Super (2019) 61:126–129 127 physical terms (i.e., numbers attached to a space-time point) to our human experiences pertaining to such properties. The ob- server was no longer cut off from the observation. The Copenhagen interpretation of quantum mechanics (QM) is in some sense dualistic, because it contained two parts: one part described in psychological/mental terms and another part de- scribed in physical/materialistic terms. In the quantum de- scription of what is happening, these two parts are causally entwined: the observer participates in the effects upon the physical world that they are observing. WhereasNewton’sphysical universe wasanactualBthing,^ in QM, the physical aspect represents a mere Bpotentiality^ for what can become actual. The universe does not behave like material stuff. There are abrupt jumps, leaps, and changes of state at the heartofquantumbehavior.Thesesuddenresponsestoincrements in knowledge make the material aspect more mind-like than mat- ter-like. Hence, both the Bmaterial^ part and the Bmental^ part are mind-like in character. I will not detail Stapp’s advocacy of the orthodox interpreta- tion of quantum mechanics devised by the brilliant Hungarian- American theorist John von Neumann (for anyone interested, a complete explanation is contained in our article, which is easily found online). But the fact that the known laws for the physical state of the particles cannot explain how they behave is critical here. Something beyond the physical state is involved, asserts von Neumann and Stapp, echoing a remark made decades earlier by Heisenberg: BWhat we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.^ The notion of a participatory universe, associated with the famous Princeton physicist John Archibald Wheeler, holds great appeal. It accords with our subjective feelings. We do not feel like children with our noses pressed against the bake- shop window. We feel like characters woven into the fabric of life. Is this actually a viable opening for a new conception of reality? At the conceptual level, science is stuck with the de- mon of dualism, in that pure physicalism cannot explain mind, and mind seems too far removed from the physical universe to be its source. The horizon of a new physics is just here, in overcoming duality, finding a unified explanation for matter and mind. Von Neumann, like his predecessors who took consciousness seri- ously, was left with dualism in the end, since the psycholog- ical and physical aspects of quantum mechanics interacted in some complex way but were not reducible to the same funda- mental Bstuff.^ In philosophy, the typical term for a unified conception of reality is monism. In modern cosmology, there is a trend toward monism that hybridizes mind and matter. Panpsychism, for example, which imparts consciousness or perhaps the seeds of consciousness, in all material things, is an attempt at a monistic explanation. But these attempts are almost always motivated by an agen- da, to maintain the primacy of the physical world. To say that an atom, a quark, a crystal, or a galaxy has consciousness actually explains nothing. One is simply restating the obser- vation that the universe displays mind-like behavior. The es- sential issuer of choice, as Stapp states it, remains, only this time it can be writ large. The choice is between two explana- tions that are irreconcilable. Either mind created matter or vice versa. Science has lived for a long time with the assumption that the brain creates mind as a kind of byproduct the way a bonfire throws off heat. But this assumption has never been proven. The brain certainly displays physical activity that par- allels thinking, feeling, and perceiving, but that proves nothing—a piano’s keys and hammers move when Mozart is being played on it, but that does not mean the piano composed the music. In essence, neuroscience has adopted the same fallacious explanation. This does not hide the bald fact, how- ever, that no physicalist has ever located the point at which common atoms of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen learned to think. The other choice, which faces anyone who wants to make consciousness the primary Bstuff^ of creation, is to show how mind makes matter appear. Surprisingly, this alternative is by far the stronger. When we have a thought, electrical and chem- ical impulses course through the brain and central nervous system. At the level of the synapse, the gap between two nerve endings, there is the creation of intermittent electrical charges and molecules of neurotransmitters. These are not created ran- domly; they express in physical coding a mental event. But beyond this obvious example of mind over matter, the very fact that we perceive the physical world Bout there^ is entirely dependent upon mind, and the means by which this transfor- mation occurs remains a mystery. The most basic natural phenomena do not exist outside our experience of them. For example, photons are not visible or bright. Their invisible status is altered only by contact with the retina at the back of the eye and the signals it sends along the optic nerve. On their journey to the visual cortex, these signals are also not visible, pictorial, or bright. The environment of the brain is dark, moist, and squishy. Physicalists can point out that a certain level of electromagnetic emission in neural tissue is analogous to light, but this does nothing to explain how one set of neural signals turns into the Grand Canyon and another the face of a friend, or anything else. There are no qualities of the physical world—through sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell—that are not mental artifacts. A skeptic can argue that this transformation of raw neural sig- nals intotheappearanceof thevisibleworldis abrainprocess,not a mental one, but the argument does not hold water, because it traces back to the same dead end as all physicalist explanations: it is just as improbable that carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen atoms learned to see as to think. But there is another fact that has not been addressed, and it goes to the heart of the matter. Reality cannot be modeled, which is to say that no matter how convincing any theory is, something will be left out. Physicalism for all intents and purposes leaves 128 Act Nerv Super (2019) 61:126–129 out mind. But the problem is far more universal. Models are only right about what they include and are inevitably wrong about what they exclude (I am simplifying but I hope not misrepresenting what Gödel’s theorems proved logically). To understand reality without a model, there is only one pos- sibility: It must be experienced. This, at the bottom, is what everyone I have quoted has been saying. Just as there is no model for reality, there is no model for consciousness. If a super-hyper- brain scan in the future could be attached to a poet’s head as he wrote a sonnet or a composer as he wrote a symphony, it could not replicate the creative process that converts daily brain activity into something beautiful, profound, and meaningful. Consciousness allows us to create concepts about the world, but consciousness itself is inconceivable. Creativity is the emergence of something out of nothing. We marvel when the creative act produces Shakespeare’s plays and Beethoven’s symphonies, but Bsomething out of nothing^ is a critical issue in contemporary physics. What is causing the cur- rent unease among the Bthings^ and Bfacts^ mainstream scien- tists is quite astonishing. Empiricism has dwindled to the vanishing point. The pre-created state of the universe can only be conjectured mathematically, and as the late Stephen Hawking was at pains to point out in his last years, there is a discrepancy between theory and reality in the absence of empirical evidence. We cannot conceive in non-mathematical thought of what came before time because the question itself is invalid—Bbefore^ only has meaning after time appeared on the scene. Likewise, we cannot conceptualize, outside advanced mathematics, what lies outside space—Boutside^ has meaning only after space appears. Since the human brain evolved through the workings of space, time, matter, and energy, the limits of mental concepts are real. To experience reality without conceptual models is not a futile project; however, I would offer the possibility that there is a natural science of consciousness. In this science, what we now label the universe can be re-imagined as a mode of conscious- ness, seamlessly woven into the other modes that consciousness takes, such as reason, emotion, perception, interpretation, behav- ior, the working of nature across the span of evolution, and so on. That these modes of consciousness are viewed from a specific locality—the human viewpoint—means that in a very real sense, we live in a human universe. This is not a choice. It is forced upon us by the fact that we are a species of consciousness different and unique, pursuing our own evolutionary track. Cave paintings emerged, for example, around 40,000 years ago, predating the accepted date for the appearance of the modern human brain around 20,000 years ago. The first artifacts that can be called humanoid sculptures date back between 200,000 and 700,000 years ago. Primitive toolmaking may extend as far back as our hominid ancestors more than a million years ago. We can dig up and collect visible evidence, but what is really at work here, what is evolving over time, is the unfoldment of the species of consciousness we iden- tify with as Homo sapiens. Once evolution is founded upon the ground state of con- sciousness, there is a level playing field between Bmind^ and Bmind-like.^ It is no longer necessary to argue by analogy. The existence of mind is irrefutable and rests on far more solid ground than particles, which are human conceptions constructed from the capacities of the human brain with all its limitations. If I had to pick one word for the process that causes creation to appear, it would be reification. To reify is to take an idea and make it physical. We do it all the time. The Wright brothers’ first airplane reified the idea of flying. If I jump at the sound of a car backfiring, my jolt of fear is reified into cortisol coursing through my bloodstream. Reification closes the circle drawn by the quantum pio- neers who dematerialized the physical universe. Now we can see how to bring it back again. Consciousness reifies whatever it chooses to make flesh. The creative act is un- bounded, because consciousness is the observer and observed, the seer and the seen, and the experiencer and the experienced. Since science and technology cannot be stopped, reification is shaping our future. We would do a much better job, however, if we took responsibility for the human universe. Reality is not happening to us; it is a creative process that we materialize out of the invisible stuff of consciousness. The demon of duality has done much mischief. We are entangled in the divisiveness described by Ralph Waldo Emerson: Things are in the saddle, And ride mankind. There are two laws discrete, Not reconciled—. Law for man, and law for thing … I have overstepped my brief, to describe a specific interpreta- tion of quantum mechanics. But nothing mechanical will explain reality or ourselves or how to get out of our many predicaments. Consciousness answers all of these riddles, and even if we cannot see where the trail leads, we certainly know where it begins. Open Access This article is distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (http:// creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits unrestricted use, distri- bution, and reproduction in any medium, provided you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license, and indicate if changes were made. Deepak Chopra MD, FACP, founder of The Chopra Foundation and co- founder of The Chopra Center for Wellbeing, is a world-renowned pio- neer in integrative medicine and personal transformation, and is Board Certified in Internal Medicine, Endocrinology and Metabolism. He is a Fellow of the American College of Physicians and a member of the American Association of Clinical Endocrinologists. Chopra is the author of more than 85 books translated into over 43 languages, including nu- merous New York Times bestsellers.www.deepakchopra.com Publisher’s Note Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdic- tional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. Act Nerv Super (2019) 61:126–129 129 http://www.deepakchopra.com/ Physics Must Evolve Beyond the Physical Abstract 
work_kiqj7le7uvduvmcutkuaqqvrsy	----	Author's personal copy Doing good buffers against feeling bad: Prosocial impact compensates for negative task and self-evaluations Adam M. Grant a,*, Sabine Sonnentag b a The Wharton School, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, PA, United States b Department of Psychology, University of Konstanz, Germany a r t i c l e i n f o Article history: Available online 18 August 2009 Accepted by Daan van Knippenberg Keywords: Prosocial impact Helping Affect Burnout a b s t r a c t Although evidence suggests that negative task and self-evaluations are associated with emotional exhaustion, little research has examined factors that buffer against these effects. We propose that per- ceived prosocial impact, the experience of helping others, compensates for negative task and self-evalu- ations by focusing attention on positive outcomes for others. In Study 1, perceived prosocial impact attenuated the associations of low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations with emotional exhaus- tion among professional fundraisers. Study 2 replicated these results among public sanitation employees and extended them to supervisor performance ratings. Mediated moderation analyses indicated that by protecting against emotional exhaustion, perceived prosocial impact compensated for low intrinsic moti- vation and core self-evaluations to predict higher performance ratings. Our studies extend theory and research on burnout, helping, and citizenship. ! 2009 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. Emotional exhaustion, the hallmark of burnout, is a pervasive problem for organizations (Maslach, Schaufeli, & Leiter, 2001). When employees become emotionally exhausted, they show de- clines in job performance, organizational citizenship behavior, and customer service (Cropanzano, Rupp, & Byrne, 2003; Halbesle- ben & Buckley, 2004; Taris, 2006), as well as increases in absentee- ism and turnover (Firth & Britton, 1989) and increased physical health risks (Melamed, Shirom, Toker, Berliner, & Shapira, 2006). Traditionally, researchers focused heavily on the role of environ- mental, organizational, and situational factors in causing emo- tional exhaustion in service work (Halbesleben & Buckley, 2004). More recently, scholars have shown growing interest in under- standing how employees’ subjective perceptions and evaluations at work are likely to influence their feelings of emotional exhaus- tion in a wide range of occupations, including human services, edu- cation, clerical work, computer programming, and military and managerial roles (Halbesleben & Buckley, 2004; Maslach et al., 2001). There is now considerable evidence that how employees evalu- ate their tasks and themselves has an important influence on emo- tional exhaustion (e.g., Best, Stapleton, & Downey, 2005; Morrison, Payne, & Wall, 2003). From a self-regulation perspective, negative task and self-evaluations are thought to breed emotional exhaus- tion by depleting employees’ psychological resources (Hobfoll, 2002). When employees evaluate their tasks and themselves neg- atively, they tend to dwell on unpleasant aspects of work, which consumes psychological resources, reducing their energy levels and making it more exhausting to invest time and effort in their work (Fritz & Sonnentag, 2006). Although a number of studies have traced emotional exhaustion to negative task and self-evaluations, little theory and research exists to explain what factors buffer against the detrimental impact of these negative task and self-eval- uations on emotional exhaustion. This is a theoretically and practi- cally important problem given that researchers have generated more knowledge relevant to understanding the causes of exhaus- tion than the full range of factors that prevent and buffer against it (Halbesleben & Buckley, 2004). We address this issue by drawing on theories of self-regulation to propose that perceived prosocial impact, the experience of help- ing others (Grant, 2007), protects against the emotional exhaustion precipitated by negative task and self-evaluations. By focusing employees’ attention on how their actions facilitate positive out- comes for others, perceived prosocial impact may reduce the like- lihood that they will dwell on their negative task and self- evaluations, protecting against emotional exhaustion. We further predict that by buffering against emotional exhaustion, perceived prosocial impact enables employees to maintain their job perfor- mance. Across field studies of professional fundraisers and public sanitation employees, we find support for our buffering hypotheses that perceived prosocial impact compensates for negative task and self-evaluations, and thus protects against decreased job perfor- mance. Our research contributes to the literatures on helping, cit- izenship, affect, and burnout at work. 0749-5978/$ - see front matter ! 2009 Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. doi:10.1016/j.obhdp.2009.07.003 * Corresponding author. Tel.: +1 215 746 2529; fax: +1 215 898 0401. E-mail addresses: grantad@wharton.upenn.edu (A.M. Grant), sabine.sonnentag@ uni-konstanz.de (S. Sonnentag). Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 Contents lists available at ScienceDirect Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes journal homepage: www.elsevier.com/locate/obhdp Author's personal copy Negative task and self-evaluations and emotional exhaustion Our focus is on understanding contingencies that influence the impact of negative task and self-evaluations on emotional exhaus- tion. Emotional exhaustion is a state of affective fatigue that is characterized by low levels of energy and is experienced as psycho- logically aversive (for reviews, see Halbesleben & Buckley, 2004; Maslach et al., 2001). To capture task and self-evaluations, we fo- cus on intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations. Intrinsic motivation is a central concept for understanding how employees evaluate their tasks. When employees are intrinsically motivated, they experience a desire to expend effort based on inherent enjoy- ment and interest in work tasks themselves, and when they are not intrinsically motivated, they evaluate their tasks more negatively (Gagné & Deci, 2005; Ryan & Deci, 2000). Core self-evaluations, a dominant concept for understanding how employees evaluate themselves, refers to the extent to which employees see their glo- bal self-concepts in a positive or negative light (Judge, Erez, Bono, & Thoreson, 2002). Theory and research on self-regulation and resource depletion suggest that low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations are likely to precipitate emotional exhaustion. Several studies have shown that when intrinsic motivation is lacking, employees are more likely to be emotionally exhausted (e.g., Jamal, 1999; Low, Cravens, Grant, & Moncrief, 2001; Vansteenkiste et al., 2007). Since they perceive their tasks negatively and do not enjoy the process of completing them, employees who lack intrinsic motivation need to exercise self-regulation to push themselves to do so, which de- pletes energy, contributing to emotional exhaustion (Bolino & Turnley, 2005; Grant, 2008a; Muraven & Baumeister, 2000). Simi- larly, multiple studies have shown that employees with low core self-evaluations are more prone to emotional exhaustion (Best et al., 2005; Laschinger & Finegan, 2008). When employees hold low core self-evaluations, they evaluate their identities and capa- bilities negatively, lacking self-esteem, self-efficacy, internal locus of control beliefs, and emotional stability (Judge et al., 2002). As a result, they need to exercise self-regulation to overcome their self-doubts and negative self-views, which depletes energy (e.g., Baumeister, Heatherton, & Tice, 1993). These bodies of research are informative in documenting how negative task and self-evaluations, in the form of low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations, can produce emotional exhaustion by depleting psychological resources. However, researchers have paid little attention to how employees’ work experiences can buffer against the emotional exhaustion effects of low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations. It is to this question that we turn our attention. The buffering role of perceived prosocial impact We propose that the experience of helping others can buffer against the effects of negative task and self-evaluations on emo- tional exhaustion. Social psychologists and sociologists have begun to accumulate evidence that the experience of helping others influ- ences affective states. In laboratory experiments, social psycholo- gists have shown that engaging in the act of helping brings about feelings of joy and happiness (Batson, 1990; Dunn, Aknin, & Nor- ton, 2008; Lyubomirsky, Sheldon, & Schkade, 2005; Williamson & Clark, 1989) that may help to reduce negative feelings (e.g., Schal- ler & Cialdini, 1988; Smith, Keating, & Stotland, 1989). In longitu- dinal field studies, sociologists have found that volunteering to help, give to, and benefit others is associated with reduced depres- sion and enhanced psychological well-being (Greenfield & Marks, 2004; Musick & Wilson, 2003; Penner, Dovidio, Piliavin, & Schroe- der, 2005). Economists have even acknowledged, and discovered in their own studies, that helping and giving improves happiness and psychological well-being (Brooks, 2008). We expect that the perception of helping others, rather than the action itself, is what directly influences employees’ affective states. This is important given that helping behaviors are not al- ways appreciated by the intended beneficiaries (Penner et al., 2005). Considerable research reveals that the act of giving help can lead recipients to feel incompetent, dependent, vulnerable, threatened, embarrassed, and helpless (Fisher, Nadler, & Whit- cher-Alagna, 1982; Lee, 1997, 2002), reactions that lead to nega- tive rather than positive states for the helper (Pines, 1982; Rosen, Mickler, & Collins, 1987; Wills, 1978). Moreover, it is common for employees to attempt to help others but fail in providing the le- vel or type of help that is needed (e.g., Marshall, Barnett, & Sayer, 1997). Thus, in order to understand the affective consequences of benefiting others, it is critical to focus on employees’ perceptions. To capture the perception of helping others, Grant (2007, 2008b) introduced the concept of perceived prosocial impact. Perceived prosocial impact is defined as the judgment that one’s actions are beneficial to other people (Grant et al., 2007). Grant and Campbell (2007) provided initial evidence for a buffering role of perceived prosocial impact in protecting employees against emotional exhaustion caused by harming others. Building on these results, we draw on theories of self-regulation to propose that perceived prosocial impact buffers against the emotional exhaustion effects of low intrinsic motivation and core self- evaluations. Recent developments in self-regulation theory suggest that in the process of channeling their attention and energy, individuals’ self-regulation efforts can vary in whether they focus inward on themselves and their tasks or outward on others (Crocker & Canev- ello, 2008; Crocker, Moeller, & Burson, in press; Crocker, Niiya, & Mischkowski, 2008). We propose that perceived prosocial impact shifts employees’ attention outward to focus on others, rather than inward to focus on the task and the self. Indeed, research indicates that the experience of helping others promotes other-focused attention, distracting attention away from one’s own problems, distresses, and frustrations (Bartel, 2001; Midlarsky, 1991). Illus- trating this theme, a radiologist explains how perceived prosocial impact prevents him from becoming emotionally exhausted by focusing his attention on others: ‘‘The reason it’s important is because I make a difference. . . . I am involved directly with helping to save the lives of other peo- ple. There’s nothing more important on the planet . . . I usually interrelate with people who are under duress . . . [I think to myself,] ‘Gee, I guess I could have had my arm amputated today’ . . . and all of a sudden things come right back into perspective . . . I’m very fortunate that I can tap any source to keep the neg- ative from coming in” (Colby, Sippola, & Phelps, 2001, pp. 484/ 495–496). We predict that the other-focused attention fostered by per- ceived prosocial impact will protect employees with low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations against emotional exhaus- tion. When employees perceive prosocial impact, focusing on how their actions have benefited others can cultivate positive emo- tions such as empathic joy (Batson, 1990) and happiness (Dunn et al., 2008), which help to counteract the effects of negative feel- ings (Fredrickson, Mancuso, Branigan, & Tugade, 2000) and provide a justification for stressful experiences (Grant & Campbell, 2007; Molinsky & Margolis, 2005). Perceived prosocial impact is thus especially likely to reduce emotional exhaustion for employees with low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations. When intrinsic motivation is low, employees are less intrinsically inter- ested in and enthusiastic about the process of completing their 14 A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 Author's personal copy tasks, and their affective states are more dependent on the out- comes that the work produces (Amabile, Hill, Hennessey, & Tighe, 1994; Grant, 2008a). As such, when employees with low intrinsic motivation perceive prosocial impact, the joy associated with pro- ducing beneficial outcomes for others will reduce their attention to the unpleasant aspects of their tasks, reducing the likelihood of emotional exhaustion. Similarly, when employees with low core self-evaluations per- ceive prosocial impact, the happiness resulting from helping others will prevent them from ruminating about their negative attributes, reducing the likelihood of emotional exhaustion. The behavioral plasticity theory of self-esteem (Brockner, 1988; see also Pierce & Gardner, 2004) suggests that employees with low core self-evalu- ations will be more emotionally responsive to events and experi- ences than employees with high core self-evaluations. According to behavioral plasticity theory, employees with high core self-eval- uations are less likely to experience negative emotional states in a wide range of situations, as they have strong coping and self-regu- lation skills conferred by high self-esteem, self-efficacy, emotional stability, and internal loci of control. On the other hand, the affec- tive states of employees with low core self-evaluations are heavily influenced by and dependent on work events. Employees are more likely to experience work events negatively, and thus feel emotion- ally exhausted, when they have low self-esteem (Brockner, 1988), low self-efficacy (Best et al., 2005), low emotional stability (Bakker, Van Der Zee, Lewig, & Dollard, 2006), and external loci of control (Ito & Brotheridge, 2003). When employees perceive their actions as helping others, they feel more personally competent, as they have succeeded in benefiting others, and socially valued, as their efforts are appreciated by others (Grant, 2007, 2008b; McAdams & de St. Aubin, 1992). Thus, for employees with low core self-evaluations, perceived prosocial impact will provide a positive experience that counters their negative self-concepts, reducing emotional exhaustion. Emo- tional exhaustion is often the result of excessive focus on nega- tive self-views (Best et al., 2005), and perceived prosocial impact can buffer against emotional exhaustion by shifting atten- tion away from these distressing self-views and work circum- stances, increasing awareness of one’s fortunate circumstances (Bartel, 2001) and positive contributions to others (Midlarsky, 1991). Perceived prosocial impact may thereby play a particularly important role in protecting against emotional exhaustion for employees with low core self-evaluations. By cultivating positive emotions and focusing attention on one’s contributions to others, perceived prosocial impact makes self-regulation less effortful, preventing emotional exhaustion for employees with low intrin- sic motivation and core self-evaluations, who would typically find self-regulation exhausting. On the other hand, because employees with high intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations are al- ready focused on positive aspects of their tasks and identities, and because they already find self-regulation less effortful, per- ceived prosocial impact has less relevance to influencing their experiences of emotional exhaustion. We therefore predict that perceived prosocial impact weakens the negative relationships of low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations with emo- tional exhaustion. Hypothesis 1a. Perceived prosocial impact moderates the associ- ation between low intrinsic motivation and emotional exhaustion in a compensatory fashion, such that the association becomes less negative as perceptions of prosocial impact increase. Hypothesis 1b. Perceived prosocial impact moderates the associa- tion between low core self-evaluations and emotional exhaustion in a compensatory fashion, such that the association becomes less negative as perceptions of prosocial impact increase. Performance implications Whataretheperformanceimplicationsofemotionalexhaustion? A large body of empirical research has linked emotional exhaustion to decreased job performance (e.g., Cropanzano et al., 2003; Taris, 2006; Wright & Cropanzano, 1998). When employees are emotion- ally exhausted, they lack the energy to complete tasks carefully (Goldberg & Grandey, 2007) and expend additional effort in com- pleting tasks (Halbesleben & Bowler, 2007). For these conceptual and empirical reasons,we expectthat whenemployeesare emotion- ally exhausted, they will achieve lower job performance. Hypothesis 2. Emotional exhaustion is negatively associated with job performance. Combining our previous hypotheses, we propose that by buffer- ing against emotional exhaustion, perceived prosocial impact will play a protective role in enabling employees to maintain their job performance even when intrinsic motivation and core self- evaluations are low. More specifically, we suggest that because perceived prosocial impact will attenuate the linkages of low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations with emotional exhaustion, employees with these negative task and self-evalua- tions will achieve greater job performance when they perceive pro- social impact. Hypothesis 3. Emotional exhaustion mediates the moderating effects of perceived prosocial impact on the relationships of: (a) intrinsic motivation and (b) core self-evaluations with job performance. Overview of the present research We conducted two field studies to test our hypotheses. In Study 1, we test Hypotheses 1a and 1b with a sample of professional fun- draisers. In Study 2, we constructively replicate this test of Hypoth- eses 1a and 1b with a sample of public sanitation employees, and we also test Hypotheses 2 and 3 by obtaining supervisor ratings of job performance. Study 1 Method Sample and procedures We collected data from a sample of 82 professional fundraisers working for a public university in the US. The fundraisers were em- ployed as major gift officers responsible for soliciting multi-million dollar donations from alumni. The donations that they collected benefited others by funding scholarships for underprivileged and out-of-state students, salaries for faculty and staff members, and new buildings for the community. Over 95% of the fundraisers em- ployed in this role responded to our survey, and they were 69.96% female with an average job tenure of 5.4 years (SD = 6.39). We distributed the surveys at a staff meeting for all major gift officers across the university. The vice chancellor of the university invited them to participate in a study of burnout, and the survey contained measures of perceived prosocial impact, emotional exhaustion, the job characteristic of job autonomy, and the individ- ual characteristics of core self-evaluations and intrinsic motivation. We protected participants’ confidentiality by attending the staff meeting and collecting the surveys directly from them. Measures We measured all items on a 7-point Likert-type scale anchored at 1 = disagree strongly and 7 = agree strongly. A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 15 Author's personal copy Emotional exhaustion. We assessed emotional exhaustion with the 7-item scale from the Maslach Burnout Inventory (Maslach & Jack- son, 1981). A sample item is ‘‘I feel emotionally drained from my work” (a = .91). Intrinsic motivation. We measured intrinsic motivation with Ryan and Connell’s (1989) 4-item scale, which includes items such as ‘‘I am motivated because I enjoy the work itself” (a = .94). Core self-evaluations. We assessed core self-evaluations with the 12-item scale developed by Judge, Erez, Bono, and Thoresen (2003). A sample item is ‘‘Overall, I am satisfied with myself” (a = .83). Perceived prosocial impact. We assessed perceived prosocial impact with Grant’s (2008b) 3-item scale, which measures the extent to which employees feel that their work helps or benefits others. A sample item is ‘‘I feel that my work makes a positive difference in other people’s lives” (a = .79). Control variables. We also controlled for gender, and for job auton- omy as a common predictor of burnout that has been shown to buffer against the effects of negative work experiences on emo- tional exhaustion (for a review, see Halbesleben & Buckley, 2004). Controlling for job autonomy—and its interactions with intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations—allows us to rule out the possibility that it is merely a positive experience, rather than the more specific experience of helping others, that buffers against emotional exhaustion. If a third variable such as job auton- omy is responsible for the significant interactions, including one in the equation should render any moderating effects of perceived prosocial impact non-significant. To measure job autonomy, we used Morgeson and Humphrey’s (2006) 9-item scale, which in- cludes items such as ‘‘My job provides me with significant auton- omy in making decisions” (a = .91). Results Means, standard deviations, and correlations are displayed in Table 1. We tested our hypotheses using the moderated regression procedures recommended by (Aiken & West, 1991; see also Cohen, Cohen, West, & Aiken, 2003). We standardized intrinsic motivation, core self-evaluations, and perceived prosocial impact, multiplied the standardized variables to represent the interactions, and con- ducted regression analyses to examine whether the interaction terms were significant predictors of emotional exhaustion. The re- sults of these analyses, which are displayed in Table 2, indicate that both interaction terms significantly predicted emotional exhaus- tion, explaining significant variance in emotional exhaustion even after controlling for gender, job autonomy, and the interactions of job autonomy with the focal variables, which were non-significant. We took two steps to facilitate the interpretation of the signif- icant interactions. First, we plotted the simple slopes for the rela- tionships of intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations with emotional exhaustion at one standard deviation above and below perceived prosocial impact. These simple slopes, which appear in Fig. 1, suggested that as hypothesized, low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations were associated with emotional exhaus- tion when perceived prosocial impact was low but not high. Second, to assess whether this observation was supported statisti- cally, we tested whether each simple slope was significantly differ- ent from zero (Cohen et al., 2003). The relationship between intrinsic motivation and exhaustion was statistically significant when perceived prosocial impact was low, b = !.51, SE = .18, b = !.34, t = !2.81, p < .01, but not high, b = .01, SE = .29, b = .00, t = .02, p = .99. Similarly, the relationship between core self-evalu- ations and exhaustion was statistically significant when perceived prosocial impact was low, b = !.84, SE = .24, b = !.70, t = !3.47, p < .01, but not high, b = !.11, SE = .15, b = !.09, t = !.74, p = .46. Thus, in support of Hypotheses 1a and 1b, low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations were associated with higher levels of emotional exhaustion for employees who perceived low but not high prosocial impact. Discussion As predicted, perceived prosocial impact buffered against the emotional exhaustion predicted by low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations. However, these results are subject to impor- tant limitations. First, in order to strengthen confidence in the moderating patterns, it is necessary to replicate them in a different sample. Second, although interactions are not artificially created or inflated by common source and method effects (Evans, 1985), it is important to move beyond self-reports to examine whether emo- tional exhaustion has implications for job performance, as pre- dicted in Hypotheses 2 and 3. Study 2 Method Sample and procedures We collected data from a sample of 215 employees at a public sanitation plant. The plant was publicly operated and responsible for maintaining the safety and cleanliness of drinking water. The employees were engineers, technicians, electricians, inspectors, maintenance operators, programming analysts, accountants, and quality specialists. We sent electronic messages to 476 employees inviting them to complete an online survey about their work expe- riences, and 215 responded, yielding a response rate of 45.2%. The survey asked employees to provide their supervisors’ email ad- dresses, and we sent an online survey link to supervisors, 167 of whom participated, for a response rate of 77.7%. The employees were 68% male with average tenure in the organization of 14.03 years (SD = 9.94). The supervisors were 72.7% male with average tenure in the organization of 19.23 years (SD = 10.36) and an average of 4.91 years supervising the focal employees (SD = 5.71). Measures Unless otherwise indicated, all items used a 7-point Likert-type scale anchored at 1 = disagree strongly and 7 = agree strongly. Table 1 Study 1: means, standard deviations, and zero-order correlations. M SD 1 2 3 4 5 1. Emotional exhaustion 2.26 .94 (.91) 2. Perceived prosocial impact 6.34 .68 !.28 (.79) 3. Intrinsic motivation 5.96 .92 !.36 .45 (.94) 4. Core self-evaluations 5.42 .74 !.31 .20 .32 (.83) 5. Autonomy 6.04 .71 !.33 .30 .14 .37 (.91) Note: r P .21, p < .05 and r P .29, p < .01. 16 A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 Author's personal copy Job performance. Supervisors rated employees’ overall performance using a 5-item scale from Ashford and Black (1996). The statement asked, ‘‘Please recall this employee’s last actual performance eval- uation and report how she/he was rated relative to others.” We chose this focus because supervisors completed their surveys dur- ing the same month that performance evaluations had been con- ducted across the plant. The items, which used a 9-point scale anchored at 1 = bottom 10% and 9 = top 10%, included ‘‘achieve- ment of work goals” and ‘‘overall performance” (a = .95). Emotional exhaustion. Employees reported their emotional exhaus- tion on the same 7-item scale (Maslach & Jackson, 1981) as in Study 1 (a = .90). Intrinsic motivation. Employees reported their intrinsic motivation on the same scale (Ryan & Connell, 1989) as in Study 1 (a = .92). Core self-evaluations. Employees reported their core self-evalua- tions on the same 12-item scale (Judge et al., 2003) as in Study 1 (a = .80). Perceived prosocial impact. Employees reported their perceptions of prosocial impact on the same 3-item scale (Grant, 2008b) as in Study 1 (a = .95). Results and discussion Table 3 displays means, standard deviations, and correlations. In support of Hypothesis 2, emotional exhaustion was associated with lower supervisor performance ratings. As in the previous study, we tested our moderating hypotheses using moderated regression procedures (Aiken & West, 1991; Cohen et al., 2003). Ta- ble 4 displays the results of these analyses; once again, both inter- action terms explained significant variance in emotional exhaustion. The interaction terms also explained significant vari- ance in supervisor performance ratings. The simple slopes, which are displayed in Figs. 2 and 3, suggest that low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations were more likely to be associated with higher emotional exhaustion and lower supervisor performance ratings when perceived prosocial impact was low rather than high. These interpretations are generally supported statistically by sim- ple slope tests, which appear in Table 5. To test our moderated mediation hypothesis, we used the moderated path analysis framework developed by Edwards and Lambert (2007). Our hypotheses represent a first-stage moderation model, as the relationships of intrinsic motivation and core self- evaluations with the mediator of emotional exhaustion are moder- ated by perceived prosocial impact, and then the mediator of emotional exhaustion is directly related to the outcome of job per- formance. We used bootstrap procedures to draw 1000 random samples with replacement from the full sample, which allowed us to constructed bias-corrected confidence intervals (Edwards & Lambert, 2007; MacKinnon, Fairchild, & Fritz, 2007). The confi- dence intervals excluded zero for the sizes of the indirect effects of the interactions of perceived prosocial impact with both intrin- sic motivation (!.01, !.13) and core self-evaluations (!.01, !.11) on supervisor performance evaluations through emotional exhaus- tion. In addition, as displayed in Table 6, the moderating effect 1 1.5 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 Low intrinsic motivation High intrinsic motivation Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact 1 1.5 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 Low core self- evaluations High core self- evaluations Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact E m ot io na l e xh au st io n E m ot io na l e xh au st io n Fig. 1. Study 1: regression slopes. Table 2 Study 1: moderated regression analyses predicting emotional exhaustion. Step 1 Step 2 b SE b t(70) b SE b t(68) Autonomy !.22 .21 !.14 !1.04 !.37 .21 !.23 !1.76 Gender .36 .27 .14 1.36 .31 .25 .12 1.24 Intrinsic motivation !.13 .23 !.09 !.55 .06 .24 .04 .27 Core self-evaluations !.17 .15 !.14 !1.12 !.35 .15 !.30 !2.33* Perceived prosocial impact !.08 .14 !.07 !.55 !.06 .14 !.05 !.42 Autonomy " intrinsic motivation !.39 .23 !.27 !1.71 !.25 .22 !.17 !1.12 Autonomy " core self-evaluations .03 .18 .02 .17 .01 .17 .01 .06 Autonomy " perceived prosocial impact .16 .12 .20 1.31 .04 .12 .05 .33 Intrinsic motivation " perceived prosocial impact .31 .15 .27 2.07* Core self-evaluations " perceived prosocial impact .30 .15 .24 2.04* Notes: The inclusion of the focal interactions in Step 2 increased variance explained significantly by 9% from R2 = .28 to R2 = .37, F(2, 68) = 5.21, p < .01. We also ran hierarchical regressions to examine the incremental variance explained by each interaction. The partialed product terms explained incremental variance in emotional exhaustion of 4% for intrinsic motivation, F(1, 68) = 4.30, p < .05 and 4% for core self-evaluations, F(1, 68) = 4.18, p < .05. * p < .05. A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 17 Author's personal copy occurred only at the first stage, and not at the second stage. These results support Hypotheses 3a and 3b showing that emotional exhaustion mediated the moderating effect of perceived prosocial impact on the relationships of intrinsic motivation and core self- evaluations with performance. General discussion Across two studies, we found that perceived prosocial impact buffered against emotional exhaustion predicted by low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations. Our findings offer several important implications for theory and research on helping, citizen- ship, affect, and performance at work. Theoretical contributions Our central contribution lies in introducing the experience of helping others as a buffer against the emotional exhaustion costs of negative task and self-evaluations. Our hypotheses and results advance a compensatory perspective on the role of perceived pro- social impact in emotional exhaustion. Rather than assuming that the experience of doing good will always protect against feeling bad, we examined how this buffering effect would be stronger for employees who lacked intrinsic motivation and high core self-evaluations. These findings provide new insights into when and for whom doing good buffers against feeling bad, revealing that perceived prosocial impact is particularly important to pro- tecting against negative affective experiences for employees who hold negative perceptions of their tasks and identities. In addition, our research demonstrates that by protecting against emotional exhaustion, perceived prosocial impact can en- able employees to maintain high levels of job performance even when intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations are low. These findings suggest that a focus on benefiting others may play a crit- ical role in enabling employees who have negative task and indi- vidual perceptions to perform effectively. These findings take a much-needed step toward considering the possibility that proso- cial, other-focused psychological states may reduce emotional exhaustion and enhance performance by shifting attention away from negative self-evaluations and task evaluations. Finally, by examining the affective implications of the experi- ence of helping others, our research reverses the relationship be- tween helping and affect. Extensive research has shown that positive affect tends to increase helping, citizenship, and prosocial behaviors directed toward benefiting others (e.g., Carlson, Charlin, & Miller, 1998; George & Brief, 1992; Lee & Allen, 2002). However, sparse research has examined how the experience of helping oth- ers influences employees’ affective states. Our research suggests that the experience of helping others may play an important buf- fering role in protecting against negative affective experiences. Limitations and future directions Our research is subject to a number of limitations that point to fruitful directions for future research. First, in focusing on our buf- fering hypotheses, we did not attend to a competing amplification perspective, which proposes that perceived prosocial impact will enhance the benefits of intrinsic motivation and core self-evalua- tions. For example, self-verification theory (Swann, Polzer, Seyle, & Ko, 2004) suggests that employees with high core self-evalua- tions may be more cognitively and emotionally receptive to the perception of prosocial impact, as it is congruent with their posi- tive self-concepts, while employees with low core self-evaluations Table 3 Study 2: means, standard deviations, and zero-order correlations. M SD 1 2 3 4 5 1. Emotional exhaustion 2.79 1.10 (.90) 2. Supervisor performance ratings 7.90 1.33 !.26 (.95) 3. Perceived prosocial impact 5.35 1.12 !.19 .04 (.95) 4. Core self-evaluations 5.32 .71 !.38 .08 .30 (.80) 5. Intrinsic motivation 5.55 1.12 !.45 .17 .28 .25 (.92) Note: r P .14, p < .05 and r P .18, p < .01. Table 4 Study 2: moderated regression analyses. DV: emotional exhaustion DV: supervisor performance ratings Step 1 Step 2 Step 1 Step 2 b SE b t b SE b t b SE b t b SE b t Intrinsic motivation !.35 .07 !.29 !4.66*** !.30 .08 !.25 !3.98*** .05 .11 .04 .46 .01 .11 .01 .11 Core self-evaluations !.43 .07 !.36 !5.99*** !.43 .07 !.37 !6.14*** .29 .11 .22 2.72** .19 .11 .15 1.72 Perceived prosocial impact !.05 .07 !.05 !.77 !.05 .07 !.04 !.66 .15 .11 .11 1.37 .13 .11 .10 1.20 Intrinsic motivation X Perceived prosocial impact .20 .08 .16 2.70** !.27 .12 !.19 !2.33* !.25 .12 !.17 !2.04* Core self-evaluations X Perceived prosocial impact .15 .08 .12 1.99* !.30 .12 !.19 !2.49 !.31 .13 !.20 !2.36* Emotional exhaustion !.24 .11 !.21 !2.30* Emotional exhaustion X Perceived prosocial impact !.10 .12 !.07 !.78 Notes: The inclusion of the interactions in Step 2 increased variance explained significantly in emotional exhaustion by 4%, from R2 = .28 to R2 = .32, F(2, 208) = 6.79, p < .01. The partialed product terms explained incremental variance in emotional exhaustion of 2% for intrinsic motivation, F(1, 208) = 7.30, p < .01, and 2% for core self-evaluations, F(1, 208) = 3.95, p < .05. They explained incremental variance in supervisor performance ratings of 4% for intrinsic motivation, F(1, 160) = 6.19, p < .05, and 3% for core self- evaluations, F(1, 160) = 5.13, p < .05. Emotional exhaustion explained an additional 3% of variance in supervisor performance ratings, increasing variance explained to R2 = .19, F(1, 59) = 5.30, p < .05. * p < .05. ** p < .01. *** p < .001. 18 A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 Author's personal copy may resist this perception of prosocial impact, because it does not affirm their self-concepts. Similarly, theories of trait-congruent af- fect (Moskowitz & Coté, 1995) and trait activation (Tett & Guter- man, 2000) suggest that the positive affective experience of prosocial impact may encourage employees with high core self- evaluations and intrinsic motivation to express these positive af- fect-laden traits and thereby reduce their own emotional exhaus- tion, while employees with low core self-evaluations and intrinsic motivation are less likely to experience positive emotions that counter emotional exhaustion (Fredrickson et al., 2000). Fu- ture research will be necessary to identify conditions under which this amplification pattern emerges in place of the compensation perspective. Second, we focused on emotional exhaustion as a mediator of the relationship between perceived prosocial impact and job per- formance, but we did not explore the mechanisms that mediate the relationship between perceived prosocial impact and emo- tional exhaustion. We hope to see researchers directly test our explanation that perceived prosocial impact facilitates self-regula- tion by distracting attention away from frustrations, as well as the possibilities that perceived prosocial impact affirms and strength- ens employees’ identities as capable contributors (Grube & Piliavin, 2000) or socially responsible citizens (Colby et al., 2001; Fleeson, 2001), or protects against existential anxiety about their contribu- tions (McAdams & de St. Aubin, 1992). Third, although we obtained supervisor performance ratings in Study 2, it is possible that super- visors based their judgments not on observing poorer contribu- tions, but rather on interpreting emotional exhaustion itself as a signal of disengagement. Organizational researchers specializing in affect have called for more efforts to link affective states to inde- pendent measures such as objective behaviors, verbal and nonver- bal communications, and physiological data (Brief & Weiss, 2002). It will be important in future research to triangulate self-reports and supervisor ratings with these types of measures, which tend to be more robust against biases. Fourth, since we did not experimentally manipulate our predic- tor variables or collect longitudinal data, alternative causal paths are possible. For example, it may be the case that emotional exhaustion reduces perceptions of prosocial impact by draining the energy available for contributing to and helping others, and that this effect is stronger for employees who lack high core self- evaluations or intrinsic motivation to energize them. In addition, it is possible that poor performance is a cause, not only a conse- quence, of emotional exhaustion. We hope to see experimental and longitudinal studies address this issue of reverse causation. Fifth, in focusing on employees’ perceptions of prosocial impact, we did not examine recipients’ reactions. We encourage research- ers to investigate whether negative feedback from recipients weak- ens the buffering effect of perceived prosocial impact on emotional exhaustion by causing employees to experience guilt or cognitive dissonance. Finally, we focused on emotional exhaustion rather than studying multiple affective states or discrete emotions. Orga- nizational scholars have repeatedly called for researchers to study specific, discrete emotions rather than more general levels of posi- 1 1.5 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 Low intrinsic motivation High intrinsic motivation Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact 1 1.5 2 2.5 3 3.5 4 Low core self- evaluations High core self- evaluations Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact E m ot io na l e xh au st io n E m ot io na l e xh au st io n Fig. 2. Study 2: regression slopes for emotional exhaustion. 5 5.5 6 6.5 7 7.5 8 8.5 9 Low intrinsic motivation High intrinsic motivation Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact 5 5.5 6 6.5 7 7.5 8 8.5 9 Low core self- evaluations High core self- evaluations Low perceived prosocial impact High perceived prosocial impact S up er vi so r pe rf or m an ce r at in gs S up er vi so r pe rf or m an ce r at in gs Fig. 3. Study 2: regression slopes for supervisor performance ratings. A.M. Grant, S. Sonnentag / Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes 111 (2010) 13–22 19 Author's personal copy tive and negative affect (Brief & Weiss, 2002; Brockner & Higgins, 2001; Lee & Allen, 2002). We recommend that researchers address this issue by conducting more nuanced investigations of whether perceptions of prosocial impact are differentially associated with different emotions. For example, because perceived prosocial im- pact involves an awareness of the self as impacting other people (Grant & Campbell, 2007), it may have a particularly potent influ- ence on social, self-relevant emotions such as gratitude, guilt, and pride. In addition, it will be important to examine whether our findings are circumscribed to emotional exhaustion, or whether similar results will emerge for positive emotional states (see Greenfield & Marks, 2004). Given the independence of positive and negative affect, it is quite possible that the effects will not be symmetric. Practical implications and conclusion Our research offers meaningful insights for managers and employees. Our moderating results suggest that the experience of prosocial impact may be especially important for employees who lack positive feelings about themselves and intrinsic enjoy- ment of their tasks. These findings suggest that interventions to enrich employees’ experiences of task significance and contact with beneficiaries—both of which can increase perceptions of pro- social impact (Grant, 2008b; Grant et al., 2007)—may prove valu- able in preventing against burnout for those who lack high intrinsic motivation or core self-evaluations. For these employees, managers may be able to protect against emotional exhaustion by providing opportunities to help others and see how their help ben- efits others. Managers may also wish to use stories to remind employees of the ways in which their actions are benefiting others (e.g., Grant, 2008b; Hackman & Oldham, 1976; Piccolo & Colquitt, 2006). On the same token, these findings suggest that employees with low intrinsic motivation and core self-evaluations may bene- fit from crafting their jobs (Wrzesniewski & Dutton, 2001) to help others. In conclusion, Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote, ‘‘It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no man can sin- cerely try to help another without helping himself.” Our research qualifies this statement by suggesting that it is more likely to hold true for individuals who lack positive evaluations of their tasks and themselves. Acknowledgments For helpful feedback on previous drafts, we are grateful to Asso- ciate Editor Daan van Knippenberg, three anonymous reviewers, Carmen Binnewies, and Peter Totterdell. For help with data collec- tion, we thank Rebecca Bramlett, Beth Braxton, Elizabeth Dunn, Andy Duvall, Ted Henifin, Matt Kupec, Nora Llabona, Lauren Mal- colm, and Andi Sobbe. References Aiken, L. S., & West, S. G. (1991). Multiple regression: Testing and interpreting interactions. Newbury Park, CA: Sage. Amabile, T. M., Hill, K. G., Hennessey, B. A., & Tighe, E. M. (1994). The work preference inventory: Assessing intrinsic and extrinsic motivational orientations. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 66, 950–967. Ashford, S. J., & Black, J. S. (1996). Proactivity during organizational entry: Antecedents, tactics, and outcomes. Journal of Applied Psychology, 81, 199–214. Bakker, A. B., Van Der Zee, K. I., Lewig, K. A., & Dollard, M. F. (2006). The relationship between the Big Five personality factors and burnout: A study among volunteer counselors. Journal of Social Psychology, 146, 31–50. Bartel, C. A. (2001). Social comparisons in boundary-spanning work: Effects of community outreach on members’ organizational identity and identification. Administrative Science Quarterly, 46, 379–413. Batson, C. D. (1990). How social an animal? The human capacity for caring. American Psychologist, 45, 336–346. Baumeister, R. F., Heatherton, T. F., & Tice, D. M. (1993). When ego threats lead to self-regulation failure: Negative consequences of high self-esteem. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 64, 141–156. Best, R. G., Stapleton, L. 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High perceived prosocial impact Low perceived prosocial impact b SE b t b SE b t Predicting emotional exhaustion Intrinsic motivation !.19 .13 !.16 !1.47 !.56 .10 !.46 !5.61*** Core self-evaluations !.29 .11 !.25 !2.59* !.64 .10 !.55 !6.24*** Predicting supervisor performance ratings Intrinsic motivation !.31 .19 !.22 !1.60 .30 .14 .21 2.18* Core self-evaluations !.10 .17 !.07 !.56 .57 .17 .39 3.42** * p < .05. ** p < .01. *** p < .001. Table 6 Moderated mediation analysis of simple effects. Predictor variable Stage Effect First Second Direct Indirect Total Intrinsic motivation Low perceived prosocial impact !.50* !.15 .26 .07 .33 High perceived prosocial impact !.10 !.34 !.24 .03 !.20 Differences .40* !.19 !.50 !.04 !.54 Core self-evaluations Low perceived prosocial impact !.58* !.15 .26 .09 .35 High perceived prosocial impact !.28* !.34* !.24* .10* !.14* Differences .30* !.19 !.50 .01 !.49 * p < .05. 20 A.M. Grant, S. 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The Maslach burnout inventory manual. Palo Alto, CA: Consulting Psychologists Press. Maslach, C., Schaufeli, W. B., & Leiter, M. P. (2001). Job burnout. Annual Review of Psychology, 52, 397–422. McAdams, D. P., & de St. Aubin, E. (1992). A theory of generativity and its assessment through self-report, behavioral acts, and narrative themes in autobiography. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 62, 1003–1015. Melamed, S., Shirom, A., Toker, S., Berliner, S., & Shapira, I. (2006). Burnout and risk of cardiovascular disease: Evidence, possible causal paths, and promising research directions. Psychological Bulletin, 132, 327–353. Midlarsky, E. (1991). Helping as coping. In M. S. Clark (Ed.), Prosocial behavior (pp. 238–264). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Molinsky, A., & Margolis, J. (2005). Necessary evils and interpersonal sensitivity in organizations. Academy of Management Review, 30, 245–268. Morgeson, F. P., & Humphrey, S. E. (2006). 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work_kvrmcqf74zbjremf2smhpn7tcq	----	Listening to Emerson’s ‘England’ at Clinton Hall, 22 January 1850 Tom. F. Wright, University of Oxford Forthcoming, Journal of American Studies, 2012 On the corner of Nassau and Beekman streets, the lecture room of Manhattan’s Clinton Hall was filling up for the evening performance. After struggling to secure high-quality speakers during 1849, the Mercantile Library Association had scheduled an impressive cast of orators for the winter 1850 season, and such was the opening performer’s popularity, organizers had been “strongly urged to choose another hall”. 1 Complaints about the state of the city’s lecturing facilities had been escalating of late, and Clinton Hall in particular was dismissed as “out of the way, too small and too uncomfortable”. 2 Nonetheless, on the evening of Tuesday, 22 January 1850, a significant audience had begun to assemble, including several correspondents from the chief newspapers of the city. One recalled that the auditorium was “crowded to its utmost capacity”; another observed that “a large number were obliged to go from the door without obtaining admission”; a third wrote that even among those who gained entry, “many had to shift for accommodation”. 3 The magazine writer Nathaniel Parker Willis was fortunate enough to get inside, but having arrived late, found the place crowded, and no chance of a near view of the speaker. The only foothold to be had was up against the farthest wall; and a row of unsheltered gas-lights blazed between us and the pulpit, with one at either ear-tip of the occupant, drowning the expression of his face completely in the intense light a little behind it. 4 With this ecclesiastical tableau, Willis captured an atmosphere of almost messianic anticipation. The evening’s performance was the first time many had seen this well-known, out-of-town 1 Mercantile Library Association of New York, Annual Report, 1850. 2 “City Items – Lecture Rooms and Ventilation”, New York Daily Tribune, 12 Dec. 1849; Mercantile Library Association of New York, Annual Report, 1851. 3 “Lecture on England at the Mercantile Library”, New York Herald, 23 Jan. 1850; “Mercantile Library Lecture”, New York Daily Tribune, 23 Jan. 1850; “Mr. Emerson on England”, Literary World, 2 Feb. 1850. 4 Nathaniel Parker Willis, “Emerson”, Home Journal, 2 Feb. 1850. orator, and expectation for intellectual, aural, and visual stimulation from the “pulpit” was intense. Ralph Waldo Emerson’s appearance at Clinton Hall was clearly a media event, yet to many in the audience the material he was to present was already familiar. He had agreed to deliver a piece performed several times in New England during the previous winter entitled ‘England’, reports of which had appeared in both the American and British press. 5 Though it was to prove one of his most popular lectures, its tone had surprised early audiences: for one thing, it engaged with less abstract subject matter; moreover, many heard it as a startlingly positive appraisal of British society. Reporting on an early performance, a Boston journalist informed readers that Emerson had “lain it on quite thick, I assure you”, and his commentary was widely censured as a provocatively reverent account. 6 By contrast, a number of the reporters gathered in Clinton Hall on 22 January found much to commend in such provocation. The New York Herald commented on its “surprising epithets”, “singular conjunctions”, and “striking contraries of ideas”. 7 In the Home Journal, Willis praised Emerson’s mastery of “surprise” and his “very bold and fearless comment”. 8 The Albion thought it possessed an admirably “bold, uncompromising love of truth, and a carelessness of consequences”. 9 Such divergence of response was not unfamiliar for Emerson; nor was such disparity uncommon in coverage of the popular lecture circuit. However, the reception history of this performance provides instructive insights into the construction of Emerson’s persona, into antebellum debates over Anglo-American identity, and into the dynamic interplay of oratory with the print media. Since the operative meanings of lectures such as ‘England’ were fashioned by the interpretive gestures of the print media, Emerson’s full impact can be understood only by 5 Uncovered New England reports include “Newport R.I. Correspondence”, Boston Evening Transcript, 11 Dec. 1848; “England: Mercantile Library Lectures”, Boston Post, 29 Dec. 1848; and “The English and American Character”, Hartford Courant, 20 Jan. 1849. The lecture was reprinted in New York as “Mr. Emerson on England”, New York Tribune, 6 Jan. 1849, and subsequently discussed extensively in several articles, including “England From Two Points of View”, Literary World, 20 Jan. 1849; “The Durability of England and Englishmen”, Holden’s Dollar Magazine, Feb. 1849 and March 1849; and “The Other Side of the Picture”, Saturday Evening Post, 18 Aug. 1849. It was discussed in the London media in “Emerson on England”, London Examiner, 10 March 1849; “An American’s Opinion of England”, The Times, 14 March 1849. 6 “Newport R.I. Correspondence”, Boston Evening Transcript, 11 Dec. 1848. 7 “Lecture on England”, New York Herald, 23 Jan. 1850. 8 Willis, “Emerson”, Home Journal. 9 “Mr. Emerson’s Lecture on England”, Albion, A Journal of News, Politics and Literature, 26 Jan. 1850. attempting to recapture the figure he struck both on the lyceum platforms and in the newspaper lecture columns of antebellum America. 10 The recent publication of his later lectures has generated renewed interest in Emerson the speaker, focusing on how these neglected pieces mark his intellectual growth. 11 However, this essay adopts a different approach, by attempting a detailed account of the context, delivery and conflicting readings of a single Emerson appearance. In doing so, it aims to reveal how the lecture circuit, so often omitted from discussions of broader performance culture, needs to be reconnected to wider debates within the antebellum media concerning Anglo-American show practices, physicality and manners. 12 Such reconstruction allows us to recapture a sense of how the press seized on both the ‘England’ talk itself, and aspects of Emerson’s performance style, as a means of shoring up of civic order and Anglo-American kinship. 13 Moreover, building on work of scholars such as Sandra Gustafson on early American orality, this essay argues for a re-examination of the textual interchanges of nineteenth-century oratorical culture. 14 It demonstrates how the re-animation of lecture reports 10 Recent discussions of Emerson’s platform career include Mary Kupiec Cayton, “The Making of an American Prophet: Emerson, His Audiences, and the Rise of the Culture Industry in Nineteenth-Century America”, American Historical Review, 92.3 (1987), 597–620; Cayton, Emerson’s Emergence: Self and Society in the Transformation of New England 1800–1845 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992); Sallee Fox Engstrom, The Infinitude of Private Man: Emerson’s Presence in Western New York 1851–1861 (New York: Peter Lang, 1997); Thomas Augst, The Clerk’s Tale: Young Men and Moral Life in Nineteenth-Century America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), p114-157; and Bonnie Carr O”Neill, ‘“The Best of Me Is There”: Emerson as Lecturer and Celebrity,’ American Literature, 80.4 (2008), 739–67. 11 Ronald A. Bosco and Joel Myerson, eds. The Later Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson 1843–1871, 2 vols (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001) 12 The lyceum is notably absent from Rosemarie K. Bank, Theatre Culture in America, 1825–1860 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). This article’s treatment of antebellum manners and performance culture has been informed by John F. Kasson, Rudeness & Civility: Manners in Nineteenth- Century Urban America (New York: Hill and Wang, 1991); and Thomas Augst, The Clerk’s Tale. 13 My analysis of this has been influenced by the discussion of mid-century attitudes to Britain in Leonard Tennenhouse, The Importance of Feeling English: American Literature and the British Diaspora, 1750– 1850 (Princeton University Press, 2007) and Elisa Tamarkin, Anglophilia: Deference, Devotion, and Antebellum America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008). 14 Examples of this “new orality” in American literary studies include Kenneth Cmiel, Democratic Eloquence: The Fight over Popular Speech in Nineteenth-Century America (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991); Christopher Looby, Voicing America: Language, Literary Form, and the Origins of the United States (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997); Sandra Gustafson, Eloquence Is Power: Oratory and Performance in Early America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000); Mark M. Smith, Listening to Nineteenth Century America (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001); and Peter Gibian, Oliver Wendell Holmes and the Culture of Conversation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001). For a critical survey of such work, see Gustafson, “American Literature and the Public Sphere”, American Literary History, 20.3 (2008). reconnects us to forgotten means of listening through texts, and to discursive contests over thoughts voiced in spaces such as Clinton Hall. 15 Deciphering Emerson’s Performances This endeavour is particularly rewarding in the case of as copiously documented a performer as Emerson. As his most recent editors argue, the Emerson of the platform is a figure whose cultural place “we are just now beginning to appreciate”. 16 Newspaper lecture coverage was instrumental in establishing this significance, since, as Mary Kupiec Cayton maintains, the “impact” of his lecturing “may have depended less on what he intended than on what key communities of interpreters made of him”. 17 The ways in which the listeners in the media articulated what they heard was often a consciously partial ideological process. Emerson developed an adversarial relationship to such reporting, for its erratic entanglement of oral and print values, and what he saw as its financially injurious theft of intellectual property. 18 Such opposition may have contributed to his cultivation of an unrecordable idiom; both his notoriously elliptical style and habit of rearranging pieces at the lectern presented formidable obstacles for transcription. 19 Consequently, accounts often involved conscious “misconstrual” and were a means by which reporters could annex their own version of his positions: on reform, the market, nationality and modernity. Following his Clinton Hall lectures, one publication observed that “Mr. Emerson seems to be used in a good many places, as the wagon full of chain cables is used on board our steamboats, to trim ship. If the orthodoxy of a 15 The most comprehensive treatment of the popular lecture circuit is Angela Ray, The Lyceum and Public Culture in the Nineteenth-Century United States (East Lansing: Michigan State University Press, 2005), 2. In addition, pioneering work was undertaken in a series of articles by Donald Scott:”The Popular Lecture and the Creation of a Public”, 791–809; Scott, “Print and the Public Lecture System 1840–1860”, in Printing and Society in Early America, ed. by William L. Joyce and others (Worcester, MA: American Antiquarian Society, 1983); and Scott, “The Profession that Vanished: Public Lecturing in mid- Nineteenth-Century America”, in Professions and Professional Ideologies in America, ed. by Gerald Grierson (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1983). Earlier valuable studies include Carl Bode, The American Lyceum: Town Meeting of the Mind, 2nd edn, (London: Feffer & Simmons, 1968); David Mead, Yankee Eloquence in the Middle-West: The Ohio Lyceum 1850–1870 (East Lansing: Michigan State College Press, 1951). 16 “Emerson the Lecturer”, Later Lectures, I, xviii. 17 Cayton, “Making of an American Prophet”, 599. 18 See Ralph L. Rusk, The Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: Scribner, 1949), 382–83. 19 See Later Lectures, I, xxiv–xxv; James Russell Lowell, “Emerson the Lecturer” in My Study Windows (Boston: Osgood, 1874), 379. man is suspected, let him abuse Mr. Emerson; if his liberality is doubted, let him praise him”. 20 These interpretive strategies were a recognized contemporary phenomenon. Newspaper consumption allowed the republic to conceive of itself, in Benedict Anderson’s terms, as “a deep, horizontal comradeship”, and lecture reporting allowed citizens to become part of an abstract community of listeners. 21 Yet, crucially, these columns captured more than words alone. The lyceum was a discursive space that married intellectual stimulation with a structure of display, a conflation of intellectual and physical performance. As his first biographer maintained, “his voice and manner become a fine commentary on his written thought, giving to it new and unexpected meaning”. 22 Accounts of Emerson’s lectures bear this interplay out, since more than for almost any other speaker, reporters attempted to capture the man in full: costume, gesture and voice. Emerson was a gadfly of the lyceum: he offered contradictory messages; he took aim at majority beliefs; he refused to obey traditional structures. His performances, by contrast, were entirely free of such drama. His act involved a disjunction between text and body, with his words imparting vigorous ideas, whilst his demeanour projected benign indifference. One curious exception was his “customary gesture”, captured in various visual sources, of clenching the right fist, “knuckles upward, arm bent at the elbow ... to deliver a downward blow of the forearm, full of power bridled”. 23 (See Fig. 1 and Fig. 2). Combined with his peculiarly resonant vocal style, such enigmatic physicality was often a focal emphasis of contemporary interpretations. Emerson’s body was presented as a beguiling social text, suggestive of an almost inscrutable moral identity. As reports of his Clinton Hall performance reveal, the interpretive stances involved in rendering these non-textual properties were richly ideological. Such scrutiny took on a new significance at Clinton Hall. 1850 was a pivotal year for Emerson, representing his final transition from secular preacher to professional lecturer of national stature. Shorn of much of his troubling early radicalism, his cultural symbolism was in 20 “Mr. Emerson’s Lectures”, Christian Inquirer, 13 April 1850. 21 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism (London: Verso, 1991), 7 22 George Willis Cooke, Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings and Philosophy (Boston: Osgood, 1881), 256. 23 Robert D. Richardson Jr, Emerson: The Mind on Fire (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 195. Figure 1: Ralph Waldo Emerson, carte de visite, c. 1850 (Courtesy of Harvard Houghton Library) Figure 2: David Scott, “Ralph Waldo Emerson”, oil on panel, 1848 (Courtesy of Concord Free Public Library) flux, available for audience manipulation. To attend a talk by the Sage of Concord afforded the opportunity to scrutinize the character of one of the nation’s most prominent moral critics. Moreover, now a transatlantic celebrity, freshly returned from the seat of world power, his verdict on the moral character of Britain was highly anticipated. Having followed his trip to Europe and his troublingly pro-British lecture in Boston with interest, New York newspapers were eager to assess first-hand the extent to which this symbol of Yankee intellectual independence had been tainted - physically or mentally - by his global exposure. 24 ‘England’ as Affirmation? Travel lectures such as ‘England’ were interpretive performances, or dramas of appraisal, through which cultural and civic values were articulated. Whether delivered by men of letters such as Wendell Phillips or Herman Melville, or by those noted for their explorations such as Bayard Taylor, travel testimonies transcended mere entertainment, possessing the potential to galvanize political opinion. 25 Lectures on transatlantic themes were a particular case in point. In the antebellum party-political climate, positions on a range of pressing contemporary issues became inflected by one’s attitude to Britain; the content, tone, and spirit of appraisals of British culture and society were therefore richly significant gestures. 26 Just like his more celebrated ‘Fugitive Slave Law’ address of the following year, ‘England’ seems designed to be read as an expressive speech act that, unlike many of his earlier more elusive gestures, conveyed affiliation with particular social positions. To many, it sounded like a surprisingly affirmative gesture towards British society. 24 Margaret Fuller, “Review of Emerson’s Essays: Second Series”, New York Tribune, 7 Dec. 1844. 25 For Melville’s lecture career see Merton M. Sealts Jr, Melville as Lecturer, (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1957); for Taylor’s platform career, and further exploration of the travel lecture genre, see Tom F. Wright, “The Results of Locomotion: Bayard Taylor and the Travel Lecture in Mid Nineteenth-Century America”, Studies in Travel Writing, Vol. 14.2 (June 2010). 26 Throughout this essay, slippage will be noted in sources between the nomenclature of ‘British’ and ‘English’. Though an internationally recognized concept of ‘Englishness’, independent of the more abstract political signification of ‘Britishness’ had emerged by 1850 the great majority of foreign commentators, and a number of English writers, continued to use the two as synonyms. Paul Langford locates one origin of this slippage in the reluctance of Romance languages “to coin a precise translation for ‘British’ or at least to use it once coined”, noting that “even Americans, with no linguistic barrier to surmount, did not necessarily show more discrimination”. Langford, English Identified (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 12. Whilst allowing for this discursive slippage in my sources, I have attempted throughout to employ ‘England’ as a geographic designator, and ‘Britain’ and ‘British’ to denote political and imperial institutions. One of his most popular performances, ‘England’ was delivered under varying titles dozens of times throughout the north-east and Midwest during 1848–51. 27 It represented an early version of the influential transatlantic vision of English Traits (1856), a work which has enjoyed a divided recent scholarly reputation, seen variously as a maturation of global perspective, as a disingenuous “double-cross”, or as an evasion of domestic sectional tensions. 28 The book is also an important moment for those who read Emerson’s later career as a drift from enraptured idealism to the accommodation of the market. 29 Such attention has enriched our understanding of his evolving responses to transatlantic relations and Anglo-Saxon culture, but neglects the light that can be shed by their gestation on the lecture circuit. Though characteristically resistant to linear summary, ‘England’ contained some key strands. 30 It purported to be an account of experiences gained on his recent lecture tour; like English Traits, it began with an impressionistic passage describing the visceral experience of British modernity, before interrogating the paradox of the nation’s “success” through the question of “Why England Is England”. Emerson’s idiosyncratic theories pointed to the temperate British climate, the strong diet, the presence of an aristocratic class, the history of 27 Statistics drawn from William Charvat, Emerson’s American Lecture Engagements: A Chronological List (New York: New York Public Library, 1961); and Albert J. von Frank, An Emerson Chronology (New York: Hall, 1994), 224–310. The lecture was also performed during 1848–51 under titles such as “Why England Is English” (e.g. Concord, Dec. 1848), and “England and the English (e.g. Cleveland, May 1850). Later performances under the titles such as “English Influence in Modern Civilization” (e.g. Philadelphia, Jan. 1854) and “Characteristics of English Civilization” (e.g. East Boston, March 1854) represent separate texts from the lecture as performed during the earlier period. 28 Responses that emphasise its disparaging assessment of Britain include Robert Weisbuch, Atlantic Double-Cross: American Literature and British Influence in the Age of Emerson (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), 21–25; Richard Bridgman, “From Greenough to “Nowhere”: Emerson’s English Traits”, New England Quarterly, 9.4 (1986), 469–85. Studies that treat the work as an evasion of the sectional crisis include Philip L. Nicoloff, Emerson on Race and History: An Examination of English Traits (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961); and William Stowe, American Abroad: European Travel in Nineteenth-Century American Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 74–101. Recent work that synthesises these readings includes Susan Castillo, ““The Best of Nations”: Race and Imperial Destinies in Emerson’s English Traits”, Yearbook of English Studies (2004), 100–11; and Christopher Hanlon, ““The Old Race Are All Gone”: Transatlantic Bloodlines and English Traits”, American Literary History, 19.4, (2007), 800–23 29 See for example Sacvan Bercovitch, “Emerson, Individualism, and the Ambiguities of Dissent”, in Lawrence Buell, ed., Ralph Waldo Emerson: A Collection of Critical Essays (Englewood Cliffs: Prentice Hall, 1992), 101–34; Christopher Newfield, The Emerson Effect: Individualism and Submission in America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 30 The Houghton Library manuscript of ‘England’ is reprinted in The Later Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson 1843–1871, ed. by Ronald A. Bosco and Joel Myerson, 2 vols (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2001), I; and in The Selected Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. by Bosco and Myerson (Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2005). racial mixing, and other intangible qualities such as English “pluck”. Various anecdotal illustrations were introduced to support these arguments, and he concluded by denouncing prophesies of the nation’s imminent decline. On the surface, at least, it was an affirmation of English modernity and supremacy, conveyed through a series of bold, counter-intuitive moments. The lecture began with the first such striking set-piece that commenced the experience of English travel in medias res: The traveller, on arriving in England, is struck at once with the cultivation. On every side, he sees the triumph of labor. Man has subdued and made everything. The country is a garden. Under that ash-colored sky, the fields are so combed and rolled, that it seems as if they had been finished with a pencil instead of a plough. The structures that compose the towns have been piled by the wealth and skill of ages. Nothing is left as it was made. Rivers, hills, valleys, the sea all feel the hand of a master. (p.151-152) In classical rhetorical terms, this is no standard exordium but rather an establishment of tone: admiring, fervent, and seemingly deferential. It unfolds a provocative catalogue, its sequence of superlatives almost amounting to a panegyric to the accomplishments of British modernity. The resonances of “cultivation” and “finish” suggest twinned admiration for both social and technical refinements. Such approval seems rich in domestic party political signification, its esteem for the “hand of a master” presented in a Whig-inflected register of internal improvements. 31 Above all, the passage’s ebullient present-tense constructions framed an unmistakable rhetorical argument: that the nation required confrontation as a contemporary fact not, as in his own famous early formulation in Nature as the mere “dry bones of the past”. 32 Two other crucial moments affirmed British supremacy against claims of imminent expenditure. In a second key passage, Emerson treated audiences to another fulsome celebration of British progress: In America, we fancy that we live in a new and forming country, but that England was finished long ago. But we find London and England in full growth. [...] Trafalgar Square was only new finished in April 1848 [...] The London University opens like our mushroom colleges at the West [...] Everything in England bespeaks an immense and energetic population. (p.157-158) 31 For Whig leader Henry Clay’s “American System” see Daniel Walker Howe, The Political Culture of the American Whigs (Chicago: Chicago University Press, 1979), 20–21. 32 Robert E. Burkholder, Alfred Riggs Ferguson and Philip Nicoloff, eds., The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 7 vols (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1971-2007), Vol. I, 58. In their striking assertion of growth, these lines reprise the tenor of his patriotic tribute to domestic energies in ‘The Young American.’ 33 Yet here, such spread-eagled boosterism is recast as mere “fancy”. Similarly, at the lecture’s close, a final refutatio rejects notions of British expenditure: It is common to augur evil of England’s future and to forbode her sudden or gradual decline under the loads of debts, and pauperism, and the unequal competition with new nations where land is cheap (p.168) Before leaving audiences with a vivid closing metaphor: But though she may yield to time and change, what a fate is hers! She has planted her banian roots in the ground, they have run under the sea, and the new shoots have sprung in America, in India, in Australia, and she sees the spread of her language and laws over the most part of the world made certain for as distant a future as the science of man can explore. (p.168) The piece thus ended by invited audiences to resist Anglophobic sentiments, demanding that they be mindful of transatlantic inheritance and Anglo-American unity. Yet, in typically subtle fashion, the nuanced “Banyan” image resolved his analysis with the implicit argument that Anglo-Saxon greatness could only persist and continue in the nation’s “offspring”. One of the talk’s most notable formal features was, in fact, its emphasis on dispassionate balance and nuance. In an 1844 Dial review, Emerson had lamented “a certain disproportion in the picture” presented of English society in the Thomas Carlyle’s Past and Present (1843). 34 By contrast, evenness became a central principle of ‘England’, every superlative tempered by qualification and caveat. Such balance was a quality he commended in the natural character: “a certain balance of qualities in their nature, corresponding to what we call temper in steel [...] neither too cold, nor too hot; neither too swift, nor too slow” (p.162). Therefore, what appeared as pure affirmation was in fact a subtle broadside against hyperbole. It was an attempt to demystify British modernity, presenting it as neither cause for automatic alarm, nor cause for blind admiration. There was also something more insinuating at work. The lecture represented an instance of the dialectical aesthetic employed in Emerson’s wider portraiture in studies that - like his elegy to Thoreau and the sketches of Representative Men (1850) - first praised only to 33 ‘The Young American’, Emerson, Collected Works, I, 217-247. 34 Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Carlyle’s “Past and Present”“, Dial, 4.1 (1844), 99. undercut. 35 Consider the dual effect of the opening passage above, which operated as both praise, but also a bravura performance of encapsulation and interpretation, capturing the nation in acts of summary interpretation, each aphorism subtly undermining through a process of reverse colonization. When Carlyle read reports in London of its 1849 Boston rendition, he wrote to Emerson in praise for the “hidden genius lodged in it”, terming it “an excellent sly little word”. 36 During the moment of oral rendition, however, much is lost to even dutiful ears, and this “sly”, “hidden” nature seems to have been missed. In any case, the texture of reception was determined not by Emerson’s text alone, but by recent events in New York performance culture. ‘England’ and Astor Place In contrast to the furore surrounding its Boston performance, the New York media’s response was generally positive. 37 As stated earlier, readings were characterised by a vocabulary of audacity and bravado: “bold, fearless comment”, “honest bluntness” and “carelessness of consequences”. We might well take pause at such language - why speak of a travel account in such terms, or consider a mere analysis of Britain as “defiant”? Part of the answer lay in the character of the Manhattan media’s evolving management of urban class tensions. Emerson was entering the city at a volatile time for civic and cultural life, and particularly for public performances that took as their theme the discussion of transatlantic affairs. In May 1849, the infamous “Shakespeare Riot” had taken place at the Astor Place Opera House, in which supporters of the American actor Edwin Forrest besieged the theatre where the illustrious English actor William Charles Macready’s Macbeth was to open on May 7th. 38 After several days of escalating unrest, culminating in tens of thousands of protesters in the streets around Astor Place, the city’s Whig authorities sent the National Guard to quell the disturbance, resulting in 25 dead and 120 injured. Though the idiosyncratic origins of the event have led to 35 For an assessment of this approach, see Buell, Emerson, 92. Weisbuch sees this at the heart of the “doublecross” of English Traits, Weisbuch, Atlantic Double-Cross, 275-76 36 Thomas Carlyle to Ralph Waldo Emerson, 19 April 1849, in Emerson and Carlyle, 453 37 “Mr. Emerson on England”, Literary World, 2 Feb. 1850. 38 The summary draws upon Richard Moody, The Astor Place Riots (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1958); and Nigel Cliff, The Shakespeare Riots: Revenge, Drama, and Death in Nineteenth-Century America (London: Random House, 2007). 38 See Samuel W. Haynes, “Anglophobia and the Annexation of Texas: The Quest for National Security”, in Manifest Destiny and Empire, ed. by Haynes and Christopher Morris (College Station: Texas A&M University Press, 1997), 115–45. the event being cast as a vaudevillian historical curiosity, it was nonetheless the deadliest civic disturbance of the early republic, and the urban divisions it revealed were stark. As notorious broadsides reveal, the ferment surrounding the riot was conducted rhetorically as much in terms of anti-British sentiment as more local socioeconomic tensions (Fig. 3). The fissures of Manhattan’s class politics found expression through reference to perceived adherence or rejection of British manners or cultural practices, with putative battle lines established between the bearing and costume of demotic Democrats and effete Eurocentric Whigs. The Democrat-leaning Herald regularly fuelled such divisions, and during the build-up to the riot had chronicled developments in a language marked by vilification of the “coteries and cliques which make up our pseudo-aristocratic circles”, castigating their anti-democratic, implicitly Whig, pro-British sentiments. 39 Inevitably, both tragedians” performances were read in terms of national synecdoche’s: Forrest as the authentic everyman, overbearing and stridently demotic; Macready as haughty, introspective, and aristocratic. The outpouring of anti-British sentiment in Astor Place, however, had sounded a note of alarm for the city’s cultural elite. Publications such as the Herald were conscious of their influence on street-level resentment and the potential for further disturbance, and there was a broad sense of the wisdom of enforced austerity. 40 Willis, himself chief among the tastemakers of the “aristocratic coteries”, wrote a considered response to the riot, in which he rejected claims that it represented “the breaking out of a deep-seated hostility to England and Englishmen”, but instead, a symptom of needlessly stoked class antagonisms. 41 Nonetheless, there is a sharpened degree of sensitivity over the treatment of British themes. Observing the affair with a mixture of concern and bemusement, the London Times warned that the violent indignation of the Bowery Boys, “supplied as it is with so much anti-British material, is too likely to be repeated, unless all the good sense of the Union is exercised to extinguish it”. 42 39 Anon., ‘shakespeare Readings and Fashionable Vulgarity”, New York Herald, 23 April 1849. 40 See Moody, Astor Place Riots, 86–96; and Thomas N. Baker, Sentiment and Celebrity: Nathaniel Parker Willis and the Trials of Fame (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 108–10. 41 Willis, “After-Lesson of the Astor-Place Riot”, Home Journal, 26 May 1849. 42 Anon., “America”, The Times, 29 May 1849, reprinted as, Anon., “The English View of the Riot”, New York Herald, 16 June 1849. Figure 3: “American Committee”, “Working Men: Shall Americans or English Rule This City?” Broadside, 1849 (Courtesy of Folger Shakespeare Library) Emerson’s invitation to speak came from the Mercantile Library Association, whose lectures attracted an audience of the rising professional class and, for speakers as prominent as Emerson, the cream of the city’s cultural elite. 43 Of the crowd at Emerson’s January 1850 engagements, the Christian Inquirer recalled “rarely having even seen so splendid a collection of cultivated people gathered by any public lectures”. 44 However, its membership drew upon a demographic of clerks and tradesmen, the very clientele the city’s cultural elders were hoping to reclaim from potentially anarchic Anglophobic influences. 45 Issues of class tension and perceived exclusivity remained central to the atmosphere of the city’s show culture. The riots were a sequence of events which enfolded all other public events into its orbit that invoked issues of Anglo-American identity, and whose performance values invited interpretation as articulations of attitudes to transatlantic relations. It was a continuum in which ‘England’ was embedded. We might conceive of interplay between three players - Forrest, Macready, and Emerson - each presenting competing answers to the questions of national styles and performance values. Those who termed Emerson’s appearance “bold” and “fearless” spoke to the risk of presenting such an affirmative version of British culture amidst such a climate of agitation. As a result, discussions involved coded recognitions of his hazardous discussion of transatlantic themes, and attempts to fix the symbolism of his performance style and affirmative vision. Endorsing ‘England’ It is useful to conceive of this process in terms of what Stuart Hall terms transparent, negotiated, and oppositional readings: secondary textual representations that, respectively, channel, mediate or recode elements of any given performance. 46 Responses to ‘England’ can be mapped onto this 43 Speakers for the 1849–50 winter season had included six lectures by Henry Giles on “Don Quixote” and Horace Mann on “Advice to Young Mercantile Men”. The association also specialized in narratives of travel and global culture: W. H. C. Hosmer had spoken on ‘scottish Song” in Dec. 1849, and the performances that were to follow Emerson’s ‘England’ and “London” in Jan. included Rev. W. Ware on “Florence” and Rev. George W. Bethune on “Holland and the Hollanders”, in the Mercantile Library Association, Annual Report, 1850, 24–25. 44 “Mr. Emerson’s Lectures”, Christian Inquirer, 13 April 1850. 45 Of 2974 members in 1850, 2805 described themselves as “clerks”, New York Mercantile Library Association, Annual Report, 1850, 24; see also Thomas Augst, The Clerk’s Tale: Young Men and Moral Life in Nineteenth-Century America, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003), 118–21. 46 Stuart Hall, “Encoding / Decoding”, in Media and Cultural Studies: Keyworks, ed. by Meenakshi Gigi Durham and Douglas Kellner (London: Wiley-Blackwell, 2006), 174–76. spectrum. A neutral report in Horace Greeley’s New York Tribune, for example, was effectively transparent, merely providing a neutral account. The Albion and the Home Journal, however, offered more interpretive, negotiated readings, and the rhetoric of their accounts offered pointed commentaries on both message and performance style. The Albion began with an extended commentary on Emerson’s mode of presentation, observing how his impressions had undergone the scrutiny of a clear and singularly masculine intellect … he contrived for an hour to enchain the closest attention of his hearers, and to wring from them marks of their approbation. These testimonies to the power of his simple eloquence, and to the justness of his conclusions were wrung, we say, from the listeners, because Mr. Emerson made no appeals to their own national and patriotic feelings – the shortest and surest road to the applause of a public meeting. On the contrary, there was an honest bluntness, a directness of purpose, a defiance, so to speak, of the prejudices of those around him, that argued a bold, uncompromising love of truth, and a carelessness of consequences, worthy of a philosophic mind. The violent register here (“enchain”, “wrung”) approvingly emphasises both Emerson’s forceful counter-intuitive ideas and the agonistic process of quelling audience resistance. The means by which he “contrived” such “marks of approbation” is presented as a subtly dynamic process: a fusion of sincerity, insouciance and dispassionate objectivity. As the distinction between lyceum and “public meeting” suggests, this passage also represents a commentary on competing performance practices. His talk had been “masculine” both for its authoritative handling of ideas, and for avoidance of the crude xenophobic rhetoric of the city’s Anglophobic orators such as “Ned Buntline” or Mike Walsh, or the physical more “native” performers such as Edwin Forrest. 47 Emerson’s physicality, shorn of ostentation and bombast, is figured as a reclamation of the nature of noble civic vigour. The report then closed with an overwhelmingly favourable account of the lecture’s concluding remarks: In concluding, Mr. Emerson touched upon the croakers and detractors from England’s glory, assuring them that he saw no signs of her approaching fall from the lofty vantage ground that she occupies. Forced she may be by circumstances to contract the limits of her immediate sway; but she is indelibly impressed upon countless regions of the earth the genius of her laws, her institutions and her language. Yes, Mr. Emerson is right. Trim, as men and Time may, the ample 47 See Cliff, Shakespeare Riots, 196–210. skirts of her flowing garments, the great heart of England yet beats with undiminished vitality, and the generous blood of her sons yet courses with vigour through her veins. 48 The passage adopts an analytical tone that overplays the linearity and prominence of Emerson’s argument. His script, in fact, did even less than “touch upon” theories of decline, as dismiss them in a single phrase. Here, the nuanced “Banyan” image of cultural transfer is recast as a matter of indelible global “impress”, presenting the lecture’s finale as a simple gesture of confirmation of supremacy. Ending with the outspoken affirmation of lineage as organ for the “sons” of England, the passage cements its negotiated reading of Emerson’s nuanced portrait as an act of Anglophilic affirmation. Willis’s sketch in the Home Journal was the most elaborate report, and through subsequent reappearances in the national media helped to secure the popularity and meanings of the lecture. 49 Having become a national tastemaker through his journalistic portraits, Willis was also a divisive symbol of urban class strife, and his representation can be read in the light of an attempt to dampen the tensions he had helped to generate. 50 After narrating Emerson’s arrival at “crowded” Clinton Hall, he spent much of his sketch elaborating on the speaker’s oddities of vocal expression and his use of “surprises”. The report then largely skirts over the message of the lecture itself: We can only say of this Lecture on England, that it was, as all is which he does, a compact mass of the exponents of far-reaching thoughts – stars which are the pole-points of a universe beyond, and at the close of each sentence, one wanted to stop and wonder at that thought, before being hurried to the next. He is a suggestive, direction-giving, soul-fathoming mind, and we are glad there are not more such. A few Emersons would make the every-day work of one’s mind intolerable. 51 It is a document of respect for sheer force; the qualities ascribed are all coercive (“direction- giving, soulfathoming”), suggestive of aphoristic generalizations almost tyrannical in their force. As with the Albion account, we get not the sense of a pleasurable aural experience, but a bold intellectual encounter with uncomfortable ideas. 48 “Mr. Emerson’s Lecture on England”, Albion, 26 Jan. 1850. 49 Printed first in the Home Journal of 2 Feb. 1850, the sketch was excerpted in the Boston Evening Transcript, 4 Feb. 1850; it was subsequently published in Willis, Hurry-Graphs: Sketches of Scenery, Celebrities and Society (New York: Scribner, 1851), 189–92. 50 See Baker, Sentiment and Celebrity, 101–04. 51 Willis, “Emerson” Willis ended his piece with a paraphrase of the “banyan tree” passage, preceded with praise for the “very bold and fearless comments” that he offered “on the croaking that predicts the speedy downfall of England”. 52 Such was the strength of the closing metaphor, argued Willis, that “Queen Victoria should name one of her children ‘Emerson’”. The nature of Emerson’s praise was therefore “fearless” in various senses: undaunted by the prospect of audience reproach, of the real danger of provoking violence in the immediate urban context, and of the risk that the grandeur of his generalizations be proved wrong and his prophecy thought ridiculous. In his summary, Willis deliberately seems to eschew Emerson’s negative message, and instead the sense we take away from his negotiated reading is his exaltation of Emerson’s benign cosmopolitan affirmation; and endorsement of his physical geniality as an exemplary, salutary cultural stance. Recoding ‘England’ The Herald report was in some ways the most intriguing. No regular supporter of the lecture circuit, the paper often prophesied its demise, which meant that its front-page coverage of Clinton Hall presented the event as a newsworthy act, rather than a routine cultural event. 53 The account opened with a concise introductory sketch subtly inflected with commentary on matters of exclusivity and elitism: Mr. Emerson delivered a lecture on the above subject last evening. The room was crowded to its utmost capacity from curiosity to hear this gentleman’s lecture who has deservedly acquired a high reputation for the originality, boldness, and some have said, the transcendentalism of his style and ideas. On entering the room and taking his place at the reading desk, Mr. Emerson was greeted with some applause and marks of public admiration. His appearance is pleasingly prepossessing, being modest, simple, and unostentatious, having in his countenance the marks of intellect and benevolence, and in his manners of the evidence of quiet gentility and good breeding. 54 The tone is carefully modulated. Whilst “deservedly” seems to convey a measure of respect, the wry reference to “transcendentalism” (still decidedly a pejorative in 1850), and the double-edged valences of “boldness” and “originality” betray muted scepticism. Similarly ambivalent is the emphasis on “curiosity” as the motive to “hear” him speak, a curiosity that resided as much in visual as aural stimulation. 52 Ibid. 53 The penchant of the Herald for such jeremiads was mocked in Anon., “Lectures and Lecturers”, Putnam’s Monthly, March 1857, 317. 54 New York Herald, 23 Jan. 1850. Accordingly, the final sentence presents a full physical sketch, encompassing physiognomy, costume, and gesture. Placing such a nuanced pen portrait before an account of his words performed an implicit service for the reader. It suggested that the enigmatic nature of his potentially unruly utterances demanded comprehension through non-verbal signals. Only after such prior scrutiny were audiences thought equipped to assess the weight to attach to his “original, bold” discourse. Several of the terms here (“prepossessing”, “ostentatious”, “gentility”, and “manners”) operated in the 1849 New York media as freighted code words. Through such terms, the social text of the Emerson’s lecturing body is scoured for its meanings, and ultimately found safe, sentient, and “benevolent”, not the bearing of a supercilious aristocrat, nor a threatening reformist firebrand. “We do not shut our eyes”, the paper had reported in June 1849, “to the fact that among the [Astor] rioters there were a large proportion of youth, persons at that age when the temperament is most excitable”. Emerson’s quietly forceful performance style furnished an example of positive “temperament”, counteracting more inflammatory anti-British oratory. 55 His message itself is then conveyed in relatively neutral terms, reducing his argument to a tabulation of factors. However, the report closes with another vivid commentary on both performer and audience: It would be an impossible task to follow Mr. E in his eloquent and descriptive lecture. It abounded with scintillations of striking and original genius, with rare and surprising epithets and occasioned singular conjunctions of ideas and analogies. Herein his forte seems to lie joined with a power of vivid description and striking contraries of ideas. Singularly enough, though Mr. Emerson was loudly cheered at several striking passages, we remarked that the loudest and most animated cheering occurred at the mention of the name of Oliver Cromwell, proof positive that he was before an audience who sprang from the people of whom Oliver was one – the people who settled New England, and the people who decapitated a king – a deed for which Oliver and his companions were called regicides and who afterwards for asserting their right to independence and liberty were called rebels. 56 Once again, conventional compliments sit amidst other indicators of a more cautious tone. “singularly enough” reprises ‘singular” in a way that suggests that Emerson was a victim of his own “singularity”, a sense illustrated by the shift into audience response. Through the kinship of the forename “Oliver” the Herald seems to validate and claim affinity with the crowd’s reaction. Since the reference to Cromwell in Emerson’s script was minimal, and since no account of 55 For Herlad quote see Cliff, Shakespeare Riots, 237. For discussions of anti-British oratory, see Robert Ernst, “One and Only Mike Walsh”, New-York Historical Society Quarterly, 36 (1952), 43–65. 56 New York Herald, 23 Jan. 1850. reaction occurs in any other report, the overemphasis here seems pointed. 57 What was at stake at this moment, and what does this record of equivocal vocal interaction achieve or make audible? It implies first that audience reaction were therefore ultimately beyond Emerson’s verbal control, that whilst his carefully calibrated “contrary” moments met with approval, it was to a passing historical allusion that his audience were most receptive. The Herald celebrates the means by which unpredictability of response overcame him; that the contingency of the lecture hall was just as “singular” as Emerson’s own provocative message. Second, the energies that emerge through this moment offer a potential glimpse of the anti-aristocratic boisterousness of the city’s performance culture. During the week leading up to the lecture, the Herald had been running coverage of the trial of the Astor Place rioters, and reported rumours of another impending riot at the Italian Opera House. 58 As Willis’s sketch had described it, Clinton Hall was a primitive, overcrowded auditorium, significantly downtown from the gentility of Astor Place. Through the resonances of the Herald report, and the sudden lexical intensification (“decapitate”, “regicide” and “rebel”), we get a sense of the genuine “fearlessness” it may have taken to speak so provocatively in praise of Victoria’s realm in such an arena. Impossible though it may have been to “follow Mr. E” and his lecture, the Herald passage achieved just that, subtly recoding the meaning of his performance. Such mediation foreclosed the meanings of his words, refracting his appraisal through the ambivalent centripetal force of audience vocality, wresting control of the oral discourse from the speaker. One of the duties of lecture reporting, the Herald suggests, was the gauging of public response; scouring newspaper columns was the chief means by which the urban public not only “read”, but also “heard” the character and mood of their own civic life. The Herald leaves readers listening not to Emerson, but to the clamour of antimonarchical rowdiness. Conclusion: Clinton Hall, Urban Politics and Multimedia Texts In mid-century oratorical culture even as authoritative a figure as Emerson was regularly a victim of decentring and appropriation. By 1850, he had developed from a threatening embodiment of 57 The reference in Emerson’s script was as follows: “The fabulous St. George has never seemed to me the patron saint of England; but the scholar, monk, soldier, engineer, lawgiver, Alfred… he is the model Englishman. They have many such in their annals. Cromwell is one”., Later Lectures, I, 163. 58 For example, Anon., “Trial of the Astor Place Rioters”, New York Herald, 17 Jan. 1850; and Anon., “Interesting Opera News: Another Riot or Emeute Expected”, New York Herald, 19 Jan. 1850. reform to a potentially consensual voice: the late, conservative Emerson, whom interpreters as various as Willis and the Herald were instrumental in constructing. The shift in reaction between Boston and New York performances of ‘England’ – consternation at the former, qualified embrace of the latter – allows us to glimpse the ways in various ways in which a culture of Whig stewardship attempted to rein in Anglophobic sentiment. Emerson’s ‘England’ was presented as a model of renovated nationalism, by which, as Elisa Tamarkin argues, “a renewed commitment to belonging could be learned from feelings for Britain”. The lyceum offered a realm in which temperament could be cultivated. Lawrence Levine famously located the emergence of American high/low cultural distinction at turn of the Twentieth Century, yet a plausible reading of the lyceum’s rise might be that it represented a pragmatic middle-ground between realms already engaged, by mid-century, in vigorous, unruly dispute. 59 Civic tensions over bodily control, audience conduct and modes of attention coalesced to promote this self-consciously non-partisan institution. In the North, but to a lesser extent in the antebellum South, lecture halls represented a neutralising middle realm, a crucible in which collective habits of listening could be forged, and lyceum attendance duly became a performance of middle-class identity. Clinton Hall provides an instructive closing vignette regarding this ascendancy. Following its damage in the riots (Fig. 4), the Astor Place Opera House declined and observers advised its conversion to other uses; the Herald swiftly recommend that “the proprietors of Massacre Place Opera House convert it into a church”. 60 The Mercantile Library Association acquired the building in June 1850 and reopened it as the new “Clinton Hall” (Fig. 5), with a lecture hall at the centre. 61 The institution that rose out of the ashes of the Astor Place Opera House symbolized a reorganization of urban space, the ascendancy of middlebrow culture through a medium that embodied aspiration ostensibly divorced from the troubling associations of elitism. As the 1850s opened, this civic enthusiasm for the lecture circuit was reaching its zenith. Though Clinton Hall was to decline as a venue once more during the Civil War, while it 59 Lawrence Levine, High Brow/Low Brow: The Emergence of Cultural Hierarchy in America (Cambridge: Harvard, 1988). 60 Anon., “The Public Amusements”, New York Herald, 29 May 1849. 61 See Anon., “The New York Mercantile Library”, Scribner’s Monthly, Feb. 1871; and Augst, Clerk’s Tale, 261–64. Figure 4: “Riot at the Astor-Place Opera-House”, New York. wood engraving, 1849 (Folger Shakespeare Library) Figure 5: Fig. 13: Astor Place Opera House reborn as the new “Clinton Hall”, “The New York Mercantile Library”, Scribner’s Monthly, February 1871 retained its status as a lecturing platform, it was a symbol of a certain strain of urban civic nationalism in the North, an arena of multileveled performances, whose complexity and agency we are only now beginning to comprehend. Lecture reports immerse us in this oral culture. These artefacts were often deeply felt responses to communal verbal experience, multimedia texts that broadcast oratorical events throughout the print media. Their re-animation allows for a fuller account of nineteenth-century performance culture: they lay bare the collective-processes of meaning-creation; they remind us that show events were not isolated, but embedded in a web of textual representations. Above all, they help to break down what Gustafson laments as “the sharp divide between printed texts and oral performances”. 62 Lecturing to a New York audience in 1854, Emerson spoke of “the silent revolution which the newspaper has wrought”; yet far from noiseless, the medium of print remained full of sound. 63 It is a world whose reverberations we perceive anew when attending to the methodical and instrumental words of spectators such as those listening to ‘England’ at Clinton Hall. Acknowledgements For making this essay possible, I would like to thank the staff of the American Antiquarian Society, Harvard Widener Library, Concord Free Public Library, and various coffee shops in downtown Seoul. It also owes much to the comments of Linda Freedman, Michael J. Collins, Lawrence Buell and Wai-Chee Dimock, and to the exuberant hospitality of Murray Wheeler Jr. 62 Sandra Gustafson, “American Literature and the Public Sphere” (2008) 63 Emerson, “Fugitive Slave Law” (1854), Emerson, Later Lectures, I, 334 
work_kwvfcuui2zcylmaygcvoun7hmq	----	82 THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF OPHTHALMOLOGY Refraction cases: (a) Hypermetropia ........ .. 210 (b) Myopia ... ... ... ... 30 (c) Hypermetropic astigmatism ... 230 (d) Myopic astigmatism ... ... 15 485 1142 Operations performed Excision ... ... ... ... ... 36 Iridectomy and extraction ... ... 11 Removal of foreign bodies ... ... ... ... 7 Pterygium ... ... ... ... ... ... 4 Minor operations ... ... ... 6 64 Summing up the work, it is obvious that the business of an oculist in a war zone does not include the fine work he is accustomed to in civil practice. The greater part of his time is taken up with the treatment of ophthalmia and the cases of errors of refraction, but there is imposed upon him a far greater responsibility than appears in these activities. It is his business to discriminate between the cases which are fit and which are unfit for duty, and to see that the cases of hysteria and fraud are kept in the lines, and trivial cases treated at the front. It is his business to return those who do reach the base as rapidly as possible. In order to be useful and effect this result, he has to superadd to the expert knowledge gained in civil practice an entirely new and military objective, which calls -into place a series of judgments which take time in acquisition, and are exceeding]y valuable when once acquired. ANNOTATIONS The Beauty Specialist We wish to draw the attention of ophthalmic surgeons-and would -ask them to keep a recordf of cases which come under their obser- vation-to patients who have been operated on by unqualified men trading as beauty specialists, under their own name or more frequently that of a fictitious institute. The following case has been brought to our notice.-A woman, aged 37, desirous of becoming a cinema actress and who, as she described it, had " baggy eyes," o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://b jo .b m j.co m / B r J O p h th a lm o l: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b jo .3 .2 .8 2 o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 1 9 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://bjo.bmj.com/ ANNOTATIONS went to an Institute where, under an injection of some local anaesthetic, large pieces of skin were removed from both the upper and lower eyelids. Collodion dressings were applied, and the patient sent home. She suffered intense pain and swelling of the eyelids and conjunctiva, and, according to her own account, one of them became septic. We have also heard of a case in which the palpebral aperture had been enlarged by an external canthotomy performed for " small eyes." Apparently there is nothing in the British law which prevents such operations being performed by unqualified practitioners, unless a- fatality occurs. This was instanced some years ago when some unqualified Indian oculists were brought before the courts for removing portions of the eyelids and conjunctiva, and were acquitted. It would be of service if ophthalmic surgeons would collect similar cases so that some represe-ntation could be made with regard to this unqualified practice which seems to be on the increase. Transactions of the Ophthalmological Society Special interest attaches to the Transactions of the Ophthalmo- logical Society of the United Kingdom, Vol. XXXVI, recently issued to members, for not only does it contain an account of the 1918 Congress of the Society but also of the meetings of two of the four affiliated societies, namely, the Oxford Ophthalmological Congress and the Midland Ophthalmological Society. Among the contributions of the affiliated societies the Doyne Memorial Lecture on " Ophthalmology and the War," by Sir William Collins, should be mentioned. It recalls vividly the memory of one whose name is dear to many of us, the late Robert Walter Doyne, founder of the Oxford Congress, and of much besides. For instance, to him is owing the foundation of the Oxford Eye Hospital and the inception of a diploma of ophthalmology in the University of Oxford. These were but the preliminary steps towards a rnore ambitious dream which he never lived to see fulfilled, which was the rendering of Oxford a centre of ophthalmology for the British Isles. Sir William Collins in speaking of him quotes the fine saying of Ralph Waldo Emerson, " An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man," and never was that truer than in the case of our colleague. The affiliation movement, carried out largely by the then President of the Ophthalmological Society, has our warmest approval, more especially at a time such as this when union is truly strength. Under this scheme the autonomy of the individual society is not aftected, but an account of its work will appear in the Transactions. This is an advantage to those societies which have not in the past published a separate volume, as well as to those who belong exclusively to the 83 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://b jo .b m j.co m / B r J O p h th a lm o l: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b jo .3 .2 .8 2 o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 1 9 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://bjo.bmj.com/ 
work_kxkrvr6exrgcvi6mcvzee7y7ki	----	Microsoft Word - MJSS vol 3 no 7 April 2012.doc ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 249 Death as Surprise in 18th and 19th Centuries Romanticism Ramona Simut (PhD) Emanuel University of Oradea, Romania Email: ramona.simut@emanuel.ro Abstract. One of the major themes of discussion in the art and especially the literature of the 18th and 19th centuries was the problem of death. In the beginning this seemed to be the case mostly because of the natural processes related to death as a transforming event of the human body and mind. However, towards the end of the 18th century and well into the 19 century, a certain shift took place from the common and normal perspective on death to a rather accessorized and scientific literary approach. Our attempt is to notice and make the necessary connections between the concepts of nature (both the human nature and the external-physical nature) and the innovative technologies recently implemented in the society of the time, with reference to the new accidental and commercial facets of death as destruction of nature especially in the work of the American Romantics R. W. Emerson and H. D. Thoreau. Aware that they are highly spoken of in view of their transcendentalism as a particular philosophy about the bond between man and nature, we will slowly come to terms with this type of concerns and connect them to the conflicting reality of the industrialization as a sudden and repressive phenomenon within the society of men. Finally our point is that precisely this phenomenon caused these writers to make a historical detour and use their naturalist formation in order to make sense of their century deaths and diseases. Key words: death, nature, Romanticism, accident, science Introduction From a Romantic perspective, the signs of progress in the 18th century were perceived as unequivocal ways to destroy human personality and discard it from history. This perception is due to the fact that the attack which these mechanisms brought upon man was sudden and eclipsed the soul with the shadow of a violent and accidental death. Their cause is well portrayed in Nietzsche's aphorisms, for instance, where he staunchly resents a future vision developed by Martin Heidegger related to the relationship between man and the machine. On the other hand, the Romantic writers of the 19th century looked at the diseases of their time from a totally different angle, being aware that some of them were indeed new and of consumptive nature. As this was the case with tuberculosis, the Romantics would not speak of it as denigratory or regressive in a scientific manner, but thought of it was a means for spiritual and intellectual progress with a purgatory and reparatory purpose in the midst of the great industrial colossus. Thus the failure pertains to the machine which can sweep away the flesh, and not to the intellect or the soul, which in this case is always a step behind in matters of material productivity. The differences between the 18th and 19th Romantic centuries view on the main death agents equals the difference between surprise and accommodation when a new element is introduced into a stolid atmosphere. It should be stressed, however, that the surprise is always the prerogative of the technique, while a repressive disease smoothly turns into habit. Though it is as old as the 18th century, sudden death has never had a solid logic as the slow death, and what modernity did was merely diversify the terminology considered void in an existentialist context. Moreover, in a Romantic work which stresses the man-nature bond as a psychological and physical relationship, nature is a projection of the self, which in its absence remains without an object. Nowadays, that would be the case of the cultural meaning of man's travel to space or man being void of nature as we know it: man's displacement is considered a type of death, a divorce from nature in a more than symbolical sense. What is surprisingly connected with death and its definition in Romantic literature and philosophy is the accidental, a term perceived as being commercial just like the causes of death: the windmill, the pit or coal mine, the first usage of vaccination in the 18th century, new inventions and the 19th century industrialization, or more recently the atomic bomb and space craft. In the same time, the rituals associated with accidental deaths are from the very start commercial, and this truth is universally accepted (mourning is rapid and conscious, and its reward implies more materiality than humanity, an idea which can be found both at the beginnings and at the end of the Romantic fiction and non-fiction works. For our purpose here, we will consider mainly the non-fiction work in a particular setting of the Romantic school, namely the American Romantics of the 19th century whose work was strongly influenced by death in both its personal and technical terms. Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau were surrounded by consumption (tuberculosis) all their life not only in their enlarged families, but wherever they went, and death itself was the main reason why they even ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 250 travelled to see other parts of the world and other cultures, to become Romantics. This experience of death Emerson1 and Thoreau2 came to acknowledge as a century old in their literature and they are among only a few Romantic writers who would associate it with the need for natural purity in the form of transcendentalism and as utopia of the soul in a deadly body. But consumption was not the foremost accidental disease of their time as reflected by their journals and memorialist work: so were the pitfalls, windmills, coach travels on poor roads, horse riding, deep waters and suicide at the pressure of industrialization. Our aim here is to call for consumption as becoming a kind of personal and communitarian disease which brought a graceful and slow withering, while on the other hand the accidental deaths mentioned trapped the body and instantly eliminated the mind, allowing Romantics no time to adjust and temper their enthusiasm. Though the personal thoughts of these Romantic writers (they separated these diseases and deaths into different classes), we do not have to take their very word for it or suspect that their non-fiction work is subjective in all respect. One of the reasons why we chose to present aspects of deaths in these author's oeuvre was precisely the existence of factual documentation preoccupied with their lives and the historic details which illustrate a common fear of the accident both in Emerson and Thoreau, and in their contemporaries' mind. Emerson and the natural. When death defies nature Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) stands amid the Romantics of his generation as a pioneer of a new type of taste for nature. In his essay Nature,3 Emerson challenges all lovers of nature to take a stand and review their relationship with the external elements individually. In this attempt, he believes, one must be able to tell nature's prerogatives from man's intrepid actions which can cause the world irreparable damage. Emerson gets to describe nature as a powerful force that transforms not only its own state and climate, but man's state too, in that it surprises him with views and feelings which determine sensorial modulation in man's mind and soul: Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning piece. In good health, the air is a cordial of incredible virtue. Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. Almost I fear how glad I am.4 When Emerson says that nature “fits” both a benevolent and a negative state of mind, he rather exempts man from having anything to impede nature with or from being nature's commander. Unlike his fellow European or British Romantic writers, Emerson seems to walk in the footsteps of mild pre-Romantics and Classics when he describes this special type of liaison between what is of nature and what belongs to man. He does not imply that man should overcome the powers of nature or that he could masterfully force his own feelings and will on nature. Neither of these realms seem to be prevail on each other, since nature only “fits” a man's state, while man only enjoys whatever nature brings along. There is, however, a special spot in which nature is believed to work its magic on man in the sense that nature changes man's state of mind and revives his body and soul: In the woods, a man casts off his years and... is always a child. In the woods is perpetual youth. Within these plantations of God, a decorum and sanctity reign, a perennial festival is dressed... In the woods, we 1 “The first known case in the Emerson family was that of reverend William Emerson, Ralph Waldo's father, who had the disease when he died in 1811 at the age of 42..., all [his children] has symptoms of tuberculosis. Both Edward and Charles died of it in their late twenties [also the case of Waldo's first wife Ellen Tucker, who died at 19]. Waldo appeared to have symptoms of the disease at various times in his life, once writing of having a mouse gnawing at his chest, but died of an unrelated illness at age 79.” See Constance Manoli- Skocay, “A Gentle Death: Tuberculosis in 19th Century Concord.” The Concord Magazine (Winter 2003). 2 “Henry David Thoreau succumbed to tuberculosis at age of 44... His grandfather had died of it in 1801, and when Henry father's died in 1859 his symptoms were consistent with tuberculosis. His brother John was living with it,... ad their sister Helen became a victim in 1849 at age thirty-six.” Constance Manoli-Skocay, “A Gentle Death: Tuberculosis in 19th Century Concord.” The Concord Magazine (Winter 2003). 3 Biographical and bibliographical data on R. W. Emerson, in Andrew Ballanthyne, Architecture theory: a reader in philosophy and culture (New York: Continuum, 2005), 30. For a detailed biography, see Richardson, Robert D. Emerson. The Mind on Fire (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1995). 4 Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature (Boston: James Munroe and Company, 1834), 12. ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 251 return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life – no disgrace, no calamity, which nature cannot repair.5 Moreover, in the woods, “the name of the nearest friend sounds foreign and accidental.”6 Faithful to its theory that nature and man are individually part of the transcendental being of God, and that God is not himself a unity, but an oikonomy (he is not merely one, but many in multiple manifestations), Emerson first rebels against his religious heritage as a unitarian Christian, and then plunges into the deep waters of natural theism also known from Antiquity and the Classics as polytheism or divine substance spread in each of nature's particular elements. He begins to sound more and more classical as he makes further comments on the necessity that man be moral as nature's actions are virtuous and thus beautiful. On these grounds, Emerson states, all heroic individual actions manifest virtue because they maintain universal balance, and since the universe is all we can find deep inside ourselves, nothing we do should harm the universe, otherwise it is suicidal. Emerson's idea is that heroic (human) action is not to be understood as an act of bravery, but as an act of makings good and meaningful sense of our innocence. Everything contrary to this strife for purity is contrary to nature, to human nature, and thus to reason and faith. This uncommon thinking for a Romantic writer is due to Emerson's transcendentalism which gives us a close up into his life and work unevenly molded in comparison with his fellow Romantic writers of the age, whose aim was to cause exceptions and not to attain the state of personal inner and external progress in good terms with the universe around us. While not so inclined to technical details as Henry David Thoreau in observing nature, Emerson is nevertheless prone to gathering physical data which help him understand nature in its raw form, that is the rawest (purest) the better. This does not affect though the meaningful purpose (reason) of what is natural, from whence we can only assume that by definition everything unnatural lacks proper reason and equilibrium. Even the loss of his brothers, his first wife and his first born he thought of as natural, because their fading away was gracious, slow, communitarian, and maybe reminded him how everything under the sun is eventually fading away. Nevertheless, his Romantic spirit reacted in shock when in one special situation the unnatural happened and suddenly took away a friend in the most “tragic” of ways: The death of Margaret Fuller when she was only forty was a shock to Emerson... Somehow, Margaret’s death caught him unprepared and undefended. Her loss drove him in on himself and made him intensely conscious of a side of life he usually tended to rush over. It is easier to call this conscience a sense of tragedy,... rather a sense that something was fundamentally wrong with the universe, an awareness of some elemental lack at the core of things…7 A journalist, editor, and transcendentalist herself at the age of forty, Margaret Fuller sure outlived other cultivated and notable women of her time who died from consumption, for instance. But why was her death only a matter of tragedy for Emerson? Why did he perceive its circumstances as being unnatural and shocking? For a start, it was probably because her death in 1850 was caused by a shift in the natural order, by something which should never happen to man. And indeed it was something bigger that one death, an event which foreshadowed the sink of Titanic, the supreme naval incident that for several years changed the face of the world. But the shipwreck in which Margaret died was so far from natural that people afterwards had to find a logic in building lighthouses before, not after, they built impressively large ships. The tragism8 of Margaret's death cannot be fully grasped according to the then Romantic American philosophy without examining the second personality besides Emerson who helped shape transcendentalism by moving it from “Nature” to the woods. Thoreau and the individual. When death defies the universe Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862), a Harvard fellow himself, lived the life of a Romantic both in terms of his expenditures 5 Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature (Boston: James Munroe and Company, 1834), 12, 13. 6 Ibid., 13. 7 Robert D. Richardson, Emerson. The Mind on Fire (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1995), 486. 8 See comments about this in Abigail Rorer and Bradley P. Dean, eds., Of Woodland Pools, Spring-Holes and Ditches: Excerpts from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint, 2010), 4. ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 252 which exceeded his income, and in terms of his confrontation with sickness and death.9 Reading Emerson's Nature as early as 1837, he was also passionate about Goethe and the Latin classics like Virgil, an interest which drove him to scientifically explore the natives of North America and their virgin land.10 He was equally concerned, as Emerson for instance, with the innocence of heart and mind, which is one of the reasons why he wrote Walden11, and why he did it in the woods. But in Thoreau the soul does not enter its well-being state until its need for morality and “right” is secured and protected by civil government. However, for what is worth Thoreau himself felt that he was compelled to retrieve into the woods in order to write and, as he says, “to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”12 Thoreau’s literature cannot be fully grasped without his philosophical system13 and his naturalist thinking, which just like Emerson’s is imbued with a utopian vision of man and nature. In Thoreau, it seems, the result of new experiments and industrial inventions is paramount and has the magnitude of natural disasters or calamities, and they both match the reaction that a Romantic writer is capable of in times of distress.14 However, he behaves like a classic when he uses his skills to observe the inner life of nature in the same habitat where purity and beauty are to be found, namely the woods.15 The relationship between sentiment and contemplation in Thoreau’s Walden and in his Journal is particularly important here, since it shows that he thinks as a classicist whose feelings spread from the observation of natural complexity and form. In other words, this binary relationship is what was called “Thoreau’s juxtaposition of his metaphysical musing with the scientific knowledge that triggered the excitement.”16 And what triggered the excitement was the form, which ultimately drives man to reassess his bond with nature: “How was it when the youth first discovered fishes?... [What interested] mankind in the fish, the inhabitant of the water?... A faint recognition of a living contemporary, a provoking mystery.”17 The conscious nature of this bond with nature comes through observation/contemplation only, because the mystery/divine is peculiar to all natural things. Consequently, Thoreau’s transcendentalism comprises not only natural, brute elements, but also areas where civilization has been installed and became traditional for our civil society. His naturalist taste is nevertheless obstructed by the civil order, in which Thoreau cannot find the natural order that the universe displays, hence his mistrust of ranks of power and human standards that are in breach with natural laws. Thus, in the essay “On the Duty of Civil Disobedience,” sometimes placed as an appendix of Walden, Thoreau extensively comments on the peculiarities of the then American government, which has not the vitality and force of a single living man…, it is a sort of wooden gun to the people themselves. But it is not the less necessary for this…; for the people must have some complicated machinery… to satisfy that idea of government which they have.18 Thoreau’s idea of naturality then does not apply to the state, and his transcendentalism is not a concept that would embrace all spaces though. Since man cannot enact his free and moral order into a social law, Thoreau shows, and since all law is a product of state technicalities, man as an individual must oppose whatever “does not keep the country free and… does not educate.”19 As a Romantic writer, Thoreau stands in awe at what “the people” (men) come to enforce as 9 Short and comprising information about H. D. Thoreau’s life and career, in Andrew Ballanthyne, Architecture theory: a reader in philosophy and culture (New York: Continuum, 2005), 150. For a detailed biography, see Robert D. Richardson, Henry Thoreau: a life of the mind (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986). 10Robert D. Richardson, Henry Thoreau: a life of the mind (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986), 1-15. 11An association of terms can be made here from Walden, the surrounding placed of Concord, Thoreau's home, to the German “Wald,” a word meaning woodland, of the woods. 12Henry David Thoreau, Walden (New York: Harper, 1950), 118. 13 Concerning the transcendental philosophical system in both Thoreau and Emerson, see Alfred I. Tauber, Henry David Thoreau and the Moral Agency of Knowing (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2001). 14 Jack Turner, ed., in A Political Companion to Henry David Thoreau (Lexington, KY: The University of Kentucky Press, 2009), quotes at note 4 from Leonard N. Neufeld, The Economist: Henry Thoreau and Enterprise, 1989, explains this seemingly equivocal relationship of a then Romantic writer with reality: “Thoreau is awake and alert; his neighbors are stagnant, asleep, little better than dead... One of his most common accusations is that ordinary men are dead in life, or they might as well be dead, or they are incapable of dying because they have not lived. Thoreau's romantic “half in love” with death deserves study.” See page 34, note 4. 15 In this respect, Thoreau is a follower of Goethe, who in a nutshell used to say that “we are pantheists by searching nature, polytheists as poets, and ethically monotheists.” See Goethe, in Jean Livescu, Preface to Goethe's Opere (Works), vol. 1 (Bucure�ti: Univers, 1984). 16 See Alfred I.Tauber, Henry David Thoreau and the Moral Agency of Knowing (Berkeley, CA:University of California Press, 2001)145. 17 H. D. Thoreau, Journal (November 30, 1858): 11, 360. 18 Henry David Thoreau, in Waldo R. Browne, ed., Man or the State? (New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1919), chapter IV: Henry David Thoreau, “On the Duty of Civil Government,” 70, 71. 19 Ibid., 71. ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 253 right and wrong and worthy of respect, which is in sharp contrast with the conscience that the individual (man) uses to decide on civil matters. Disobeying the civil order regards extensively the law of men and the intricate and foremost corrupt structure of their government, but also what the law of modern men praises as innovative and bountiful. In this respect, Emerson and Thoreau have their own special place within American Romanticism as they come from Concord, Massachusetts, an expanding commercial route and a promising industrial hub in their time. Emerson and Thoreau sure had much to see and in part repel in the dawn of this modern era, many things and facts of life which to a natural mind seemed disruptive. Every day the two writers would witness the forceful power of industrialization on their once beautiful town, and also people being proud of their achievement: A lead pipe manufactory was set up in 1819, a shoe factory was built in 1821.., a group of entrepreneurs had set up the Milldam company in 1821, developing thereby a new commercial district in the center of town,… and the town was also a center for the manufacture of pencils, clocks, hats, bellows, guns, bricks, barrels, and soap… Wagons rumbled through town continually on roads that were both dusty and noisy. Concord was a busy transport hub and its numerous taverns were full of teamsters. It had six warehouses, a bindery, two saw mills, two grist mills, and a large five-story cotton mill…20 Thoreau’s retreat in the woods for two years before commencing any civil or educational duties and at the peak of the industrial development of his homeland was an act of conscience directed towards his fellow citizens, as well as an act of self-instruction and observation. However, a devoted Romantic spirit would not go on a retreat for too long: he is an effervescent spirit. He would rather re-enter society with new ideas and new brute forces so as to overturn and invalidate the existing order. However, the fact that Thoreau does not advocate for a new government to replace the actual ruling, but for a better one instead, says a lot about his intentions as a citizen: he does not wish to abolish the present government, but to improve and educate it, which is as classical a method as it can be. Thoreau and Emerson alike were not the type of Romantics that would constantly complain about any kinds of inconveniences including their own fate and misunderstood genius, and they were mindful of the beneficial nature of progress.21 They were men of their time and did not oppose development, but given their family and friends dreadful history with consumption, they were also men of prudence aware that their contemporaries could not fight death and disease with more machines and money, or not just yet. For them it was the machine that imposed on people and increased the unknown of the natural order by expanding man’s territory, and thus by exposing him to further perils and diseases. For both Thoreau and Emerson, this exploration of the unknown creates an uneven relationship between social and moral, between industry and art, since the machines valued man’s physical powers only, leaving his soul behind. The machine (industrialization) works with machines void of sentiments. A conclusion on the unknown death Thoreau’s and Emerson’s fear of the unknown is likely triggered not necessarily by universal forces, cataclysms and furies: this kind of unknown has an observable source, which is the magnificence of nature and its raw material. These Romantics' fear is located deeply within the human habitat and was caused by people's search for rapid progress and transgression of nature and inner self. The unknown which brings fear is not of the elements. They welcome the elements because they bring them the joy of research and discovery, the return to essence. Of course that, for instance, water is an elements of which man manifests fear, but he that will not adventure into deep waters, but instead will respect and cherish the life embedded in them. This means that in our large universe (cosmos) another universe (microcosm) exists and from the latter life itself springs: In one of his last works, The Dispersion of Seeds... [Thoreau] recounts having “leveled for an artificial pond at our new cemetery, Sleepy Hollow”. The pond was finally completed in 1859, and the following year 20 Robert D. Richardson, Henry Thoreau: a life of the mind (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986), 15. 21 Emerson and Thoreau were loved by their fellow citizens and respected for their education, talent, and stamina manifested in spite of hardship of life and a tradition with consumption. They even had the conduct of a respected fellow Concordian, as Emerson was read by every cultivated American and gathered lots of cultivated men in his philosophy circle at the Emerson home, while Thoreau gave lectures which for all audiences and thus considerably maximized his incomes. For details, see Edward Waldo Emerson, Emerson in Concord. A Memoir Written for the Social Circle in Concord Massachusetts (Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing, 2004). See also Bradley P. Dean and Ronald Wesley Hoag, “Thoreau's Lectures After Walden: An Annotated Calendar,” Studies in the American Renaissance (1996): 241-362. For the eulogy and pompous burial ceremony with which the people of Concord honored Emerson, see “Concord’s Irreparable Loss! The Death and Funeral of Ralph Waldo Emerson,” in Concord Freeman (May 4, 1882). ISSN 2039 2117 Mediterranean Journal of Social Sciences Vol. 3 (7) April 2012 254 sported “several small patches of the large yellow and kalmiana lily,” a fact which led him to remark, “Thus, even in the midst of death, we are in life.” Thoreau loved to see that Nature was rife with life, and nowhere is the life of Nature so rife as in vernal pools. But he also insisted that the “universe is wider than our views of it.”... The nature of vernal pools masterfully celebrate not just life, but the larger universe in which we live. In fact, his woodland pools, spring-holes, and ditches are microcosms of that... universe in which energies are constantly transmuted one into another.22 The same image captured in the presence of the pond (see Walden pond) or at Sleepy Hollow, where life is created at the surface of waters as a microcosm is encountered under the water, and we already learned about Thoreau's passion for ichthyology in that he considers the fish as “another image of God.23 Thus either naturally created or handmade, ponds, ditches, and pools which are water recipients are not perceived as agents of death, at least not of unwilling death. Yes, deep waters are to be feared, however murders at that time were deemed as exceptional “acts of God,” though the voluntary action of suicide was considered common even in the most uncommon places.24 The innovative nature of medicine, commerce, manufacture, transportation, food and mine industry, and leisure were particularly exponential as causes of death in both 18th and 19th centuries. They were the real unknown and unnatural factors which caused bereavement and uncertainty both physically and mentally, in spite of the progress they promised especially in the 19th century. They were feared more than cancer and heart failure both because they were everywhere in the news and they implied a foreign object that brought death instantly rather than slowly. Be it the inoculation formula against new infectious diseases such as smallpox25, which required many testing on real people, or the new windmills, coal pits, wagons or carts traveling with increasing speed, accidents at work, shipwreck or simply a horseback ride commonly practiced at the time for leisure but with no proper harness classes and skill, they were all perceived as unreliable, surprising, and sudden ways to produce death and suffering. References “Concord’s Irreparable Loss! The Death and Funeral of Ralph Waldo Emerson.” Concord Freeman (May 4, 1882). Aiken, Lewis R. Dying, death, and bereavement. Fourth Edition. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2009. Ballanthyne, Andrew. Architecture theory: a reader in philosophy and culture. New York: Continuum, 2005. Dean, Bradley P., and Ronald Wesley Hoag. “Thoreau's Lectures After Walden: An Annotated Calendar.” Studies in the American Renaissance (1996): 241-362. Emerson, Edward Waldo. Emerson in Concord. A Memoir Written for the Social Circle in Concord Massachusetts. Whitefish, MT: Kessinger Publishing, 2004. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Nature. Boston, MA: James Munroe and Company, 1834. Lonton, Tony. “Vaccination, Windmills, and Other Causes of Death in 18th Century Whitkirk.” Barwicker 92 (Dec. 2008). Manoli-Skocay, Constance. “A Gentle Death: Tuberculosis in 19th Century Concord.” The Concord Magazine (Winter 2003). Oyebode, Femi, ed. Mindreadings: Literature and Psychiatry. Glasgow: Bell and Bain, 2009. Richardson, Robert D. Emerson. The Mind on Fire. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1995. Richardson, Robert D. Henry Thoreau: a life of the mind. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1986. Rorer, Abigail, and Bradley P. Dean, eds. Of Woodland Pools, Spring-Holes and Ditches: Excerpts from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau. Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint, 2010. Tauber, Alfred I. Henry David Thoreau and the Moral Agency of Knowing. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2001. Thoreau, Henry David. In Waldo R. Browne, ed., Man or the State? New York: B. W. Huebsch, 1919. Thoreau, Henry David. Walden. New York: Harper, 1950. Turner, Jack, ed. A Political Companion to Henry David Thoreau. Lexington, KY: The University of Kentucky Press, 2009. 22 See Abigail Rorer and Bradley P. Dean, eds., Of Woodland Pools, Spring-Holes and Ditches: Excerpts from the Journal of Henry David Thoreau (Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint, 2010), 3, 4. 23 Alfred I. Tauber, Henry David Thoreau and the Moral Agency of Knowing (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2001), 145. 24 See Tony Lonton, “Vaccination, Windmills, and Other Causes of Death in 18th Century Whitkirk,” Barwicker 92 (Dec. 2008). In the 19th century, suicide was usually associated with the increasing “pressure of industrialization.” For the then multiple ways to dye, see Lewis R. Aiken, Dying, death, and bereavement, fourth edition (Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum, 2009). 25 Tony Lonton mentions this as having been practiced in England as early as 1722, for instance, before a proper vaccination was even approved of in 1796. 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work_l45gy7tfcfcoxpgo3e4cavkpli	----	Teaching Translations of Translations San Jose State University From the SelectedWorks of Anne Fountain Fall 2010 Teaching Translations of Translations Anne Fountain, San Jose State University Available at: http://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/26/ http://www.sjsu.edu http://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/ http://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/26/ 13 Spring 2011 Teaching Translations of Translations Anne Fountain Nancy Alonso’s collection of Cuban short stories starts with a quote from Oscar Wilde: “El mundo se ha reído siempre de sus propias tragedias como único medio de soportarlas” (Alonso 7). What should a literary translator do when faced with transplanting Alonso’s stories into English with a quote from Oscar Wilde? Obviously there is an original English text of this quote. Since the Spanish version is a translation of the original, it makes sense to cite the original as the “translation.” In essence, then, the translation involves a search rather than a re-translation. Instead of trying to approximate what Wilde had written, the translator uses the words he actually wrote: “The world has always laughed at its own tragedies, that being the only way in which it has been able to bear them” (Wilde 72). This real-life example points to two central issues about translating translations: How important is it to recognize that something written in a foreign language is a translation? And secondly: How important is it to locate the source for a translation? This article describes how examining translations of translations can provide a useful pedagogical tool in translation courses and classes with translated texts. Those who teach literary works that have been translated into English must deal with the reality that students read translated texts as if they had been written in English. Acknowledgment of the source for a translation is therefore important, and professors should alert students to the problems that can arise when translations are made from translations rather than from originals. Examining examples of “doubling back”―translations of translations―can also be instructive in teaching about literary interests and influences. One of the obvious lessons to emerge from such an approach is the literary language exercise it can provide to students. Comparative Stylistics of French and English refers to “backtranslation” as a strategy for learning and for assessing stylistic variations and states that “If the text contains a stylistic variant, a supplementation, a compensation etc., it is likely that a backtranslation will not fully reproduce the original” 14 TranSlaTion review 80 (Vinay and Darbelnet 205). Since translators, especially those engaged in literary translation, may choose from a wide spectrum of expressions without altering the global meaning of a passage, a retranslating of a text can reveal cultural and geographical differences. The authors of Comparative Stylistics note: “A French Canadian translation may differ slightly from a French or Belgian one in its choice of synonyms, variants or regionalisms” (Vinay and Darbelnet 205). Students of literature may find that a comparison of translations of translations reveals literary origins as well as delicate differences. As a brief assignment with a focus on style, a professor might ask students in a class of French or World literature in translation to read two distinct English renderings of a passage from Victor Hugo and then ask either groups or individuals to compare these translations with doubled- back versions (English to French and then back to English) created for the purpose of the exercise. The backtranslated and then retranslated examples might need to be provided by the professor, but need not be extensive. Questions raised by such a comparison include: What are the global or inherent aspects of the selected portion? And what variations and possible errors are brought to light? A similar exercise could be done with translations of Don Quixote examining language and style over centuries. How would a backtranslation followed by retranslation into English of a portion of Shelton’s 1612 English version of the first part of Don Quixote compare with a backtranslation and retranslation of the same portion of Edith Grossman’s new Quixote? Or to use examples from the Hispanic literature of the United States: how would one backtranslate a two-language poem like Gustavo Pérez Firmat’s “Bilingual Blues” (Triple Crown 164), and what can be gleaned from a contrast of the quite different two translations into Spanish of Cristina García’s Cuban American novels, Dreaming in Cuban and The Agüero Sisters―one done in the Spanish of Spain and one with a more distinctively Cuban flavor? How would portions of these novels read when translated from Spanish back to English? What happens to slang, to sound, to meter, to rhyme, and to the musical effects of verse when translated and then again when doubled back (Frame 71)? While the examples described above all require the assistance and/or intervention of language -proficient individuals who are willing to retranslate, the results can be valuable in instilling respect for a close reading of text. In a very real sense, translating a translation provides a distinctive look at 15 Spring 2011 the essential qualities of literature. Gregory Rabassa, surely one of the most acclaimed masters of Latin American literary translation, describes a retranslation experience he had when working on José Lezama Lima’s Paradiso, a complex novel that presents many challenges to a translator. In Paradiso, Rabassa had found several lines from the American poets Walt Whitman and Hart Crane that Lezama had translated into Spanish. Rabassa explains: “At the moment I did not have a text of the originals at hand and in order to facilitate the process of translation I rendered the lines back into English. When I finally did get hold of the original versions I found that I had missed by only a couple of words in both cases” (9). Rabassa attributes his success in retranslation to Lezama Lima’s success in the initial translation, something that may vary from case to case but that certainly merits a study of similar examples. How can doubling back and retranslation prove instructive in very concrete examples? Poe provides many possible approaches as one of the most taught and most translated of writers. However, the name that almost immediately springs to mind in considering Poe and translation is Charles Baudelaire, because the French author translated about Poe and translated both prose and poetry by Poe, and because numerous studies deal with translations of Poe by Baudelaire: for example, the discovery in 1952 that much of Baudelaire’s lengthy 1852 essay on Poe was essentially a translation of (or at least largely based upon) articles written after Poe’s death and published in an American journal. However, this raises challenging questions for a translator who seeks to transfer that part of Baudelaire’s oeuvre into English (Hyslop 14–15). Should he/ she simple translate freely into English or take into account the source? And Baudelaire is not the only Poe fan. Many Spanish Americans have tried their hand at putting Poe’s verses into Spanish, and the Argentine author Julio Cortázar translated two volumes of Poe’s short stories into Spanish. A Poe tale such as “The Pit and the Pendulum” provides concrete examples. In Baudelaire’s translation, the Latin quatrain which precedes Poe’s story remains in Latin. In Cortázar’s Spanish version, the same is true. But in the 1991 translation into French by Henri Justin in a bilingual text format (English/French), the Latin verses are given in French—so that if someone were re-translating the Justin version of Poe, the Latin quatrain would end up in English. A comparison of several versions of 16 TranSlaTion review 80 the first line of the story offers a basis for comparing the qualities of both the original and the translation. Poe wrote: “I was sick―sick unto death with that long agony and when they at length unbound me, and I was permitted to sit, I felt that my senses were leaving me” (The Black Cat 184). Baudelaire translated: “J’étais brisé,―brisé jusqu’à la mort par cette longue agonie; et quand en fin ils me délièrent et qu’il me fut permis de m’asseoir, je sentis que mes sens m’abandonnaient” (Nouvelles 157). Justin put “Mon coeur se révulsait ― se révulsait à en mourir, au terme de ce long supplice; et quand on défit mes liens et qu’il me fut permis de m’asseoir, je sentis mes sens m’abandonner” (The Black Cat 185). Cortázar, who worked as a translator in Paris, produced a version similar to the one by Baudelaire: “Sentía náuseas, náuseas de muerte después de tan larga agonía; y cuando por fin me desataron y me permitieron sentarme, comprendí que mis sentidos me abandonaron” (Cuentos I 74). When I asked colleagues in French and Spanish to retranslate informally the Baudelaire and Cortázar versions, respectively, the results were instructive. The retranslation of Poe from French turned out to be “when they at length unbound me,” in comparison to “when finally they untied me,” and the Spanish retranslation read: “when they finally untied me.” The retranslations were similar to each other but different from Poe. The word that seems most difficult to convey is “unbound.” Taking a page of Poe translated by Baudelaire and the same page translated by Cortázar and then turning the selections back into English allows students to contrast not only how the “doubled back” versions compare to Poe but also to each other. How would “unto, “with,” and “at length” turn out in retranslated texts? Which types of words flow back and forth between the original document, the translation(s), and the backtranslation(s) with most ease? What components become scrambled in the exercise? Does Poe become at all less quirky in re-anglicized versions of his work? As a variation or extension of the Baudelaire/ Cortázar contrast, students could compare retranslations to English of the Baudelaire and Justin versions of “The Pit and the Pendulum” or of the Cortázar and Gómez de la Serna (Spanish) translations of “The Gold Bug.” Analysis of the retranslated passages might be done by individuals or by small groups or could be pursued during general class discussions. Another text that provides an unusual set of circumstances for translation and re-translation is the Popol Vuh, the sacred book of the Maya Quiché of Guatemala. This work is often part of courses in Latin 17 Spring 2011 American literature and culture. Allan Burns has called it “one of the great books of world literature…[with] sections on the origin of the world, mythological battles, and Maya history up through the conquest” (Montejo 23). Robert J. Sharer gives this description: “A brilliant poem of over 9,000 lines, the Popol Vuh preserves a coherent cosmogony, mythology, and traditional history of the Quiché […]. The elegance of both the language and the literary style of the Popol Vuh emphasizes the loss we and the Quiché have suffered in the annihilation of the Quiché learning during the colonial period” (596). The Popol Vuh was written in the sixteenth century in the Mayan language with Roman letters and was discovered in 1701 by a Spanish priest, Francisco Ximénez, who preserved the transcribed Mayan version and created a translation into Spanish. In 1854 the manuscript was rediscovered by a French cleric (Brasseur) who translated it into French (Popol Vuh: Libro Sagrado de los Mayas 7). The “bilingual” manuscript is now housed in Chicago’s Newberry Library and could be an obvious source to which one could backtranslate. But would the backtranslation be to Spanish, to the transcribed Mayan, to both, or to something else? Curiously, the version of the Popol Vuh produced in Spanish by the Guatemalan author Miguel Ángel Asturias in collaboration with a Mexican historian was based on a French version by Georges Raynaud, with whom Asturias had studied in Paris (Chang Rodríguez, Voces 365). Victor Montejo, a Mayan anthropologist, translated selections into Spanish for children and young adults together with a brief glossary of names and special terms. In addition, as Castro Klarén indicates in her article for the ADFL Bulletin, Dennis Tedlock produced a “masterful translation” in English with “an invaluable interdisciplinary introduction and an ethnohistorical glossary and notes…[that] has no equivalent in Spanish” (18). An intriguing aspect of Tedlock’s translation, on which he spent nine years, was his decision to take the text of the Popol Vuh to Mayan-speaking communities, where oral narratives together with comments of a native Quiché reader facilitated the translator’s work—in essence a harkening back to the cultural context of the work (Popol Vuh, Trans. Tedlock 13–18). When the Popol Vuh is taught in an undergraduate setting, usually just a segment or portion is included. Selections in English translation are often found in classes on Latin American culture and civilization, and such courses may be offered by a Foreign Language Department but 18 TranSlaTion review 80 delivered in English. And here fresh questions arise. As Castro-Klarén notes, Departments of Romance Languages and Departments of Spanish have a propensity to insist on Spanish as a source for the reading in courses dealing with Spanish America, even if the origin of a text is in another language and even if, as in this case, the language imposed is that of the conqueror/colonizer (17). It will not typically be feasible to double back to a bilingual colonial era manuscript (Quiché Maya transcribed in Latin letters and Spanish) to illustrate how retranslation can inform an analysis of text. Nonetheless, guiding students back to the source under the banner of backtranslation will help them discover the suppression and destruction of pre-Columbian works. Furthermore, students will reveal the possibility of multiple backtranslation options for a single work. Finally, examples abound in the immense space that José Martí occupies in Latin American literature, the Hispanic literature of the United States and the global reach of his poetry through the music of “Guantanamera” (Fountain, Versos Sencillos 12). The topic of translation and backtranslation in Martí is manifested in many ways. The Cuban patriot’s life in the United States as a political exile from 1880 to1895 provides the framework for many of his major works and offers connections with U.S. literature. Martí was a prodigious translator, creating verse versions of the poems by American writers and volumes of chronicles with extensive paraphrasing and translations. Often the paraphrases and translations are either indicated by quotation marks or are made obvious through other means. But many times they are not. This is where backtranslation or doubling back can prove useful to both research scholars and graduate and undergraduate students. The ties between Ralph Waldo Emerson and the Cuban writer in exile are well documented. Martí mentioned Emerson frequently: in articles composed for Latin American newspapers, in private notes, in correspondence, and in his four-volume magazine for children, La Edad de Oro (The Golden Age) (Fountain, José Martí 46). Taking two unidentified stanzas of verse from Martí’s notes and retranslating the stanzas into English reveals that the lines are in fact a translation of fragments from Emerson’s “Blight” (Fountain, José Martí 42). Here is how the first section of the translated lines appear in Martí’s notes: 19 Spring 2011 Dadme verdades: Muy cansado estoy ya de superficies: Muero de inanición.―Si yo supiera Sólo― las yerbas de la selva y simples De la tierra común arrancan jugos Desconocidos: si decir supiera Su fragancia, y con dulces parentescos Su química aplicar al cuerpo humano (Martí, Obras 22:328) Here is what Martí took from Emerson (part of the first 11 lines of “Blight”): Give me truths; For I am weary of the surfaces, And die of inanition. If I knew Only the herbs and simples of the wood, Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain and agrimony, Blue-vetch and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras, Milkweeds and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sun-dew, And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods Draw untold juices from the common earth, Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply By sweet affinities to human flesh, (Emerson 139) In this case, recognizing Emerson’s first four lines in Martí’s verses functioned primarily to indicate a literary link that was not discovered until 1973. The partial or simplified translation in Martí’s notes omits the names of the herbs and flowers (rue, cinquefoil etc.), but obviously seeks to convey Emerson’s message. A more complex relationship to the concept of “doubling back” can be found in relation to Martí’s 1882 essay on Emerson, which includes twenty-three allusions to Nature in the form of quotations, paraphrases, and references. The essay, a paean of praise from the Cuban admirer to the American transcendentalist highlights the similarities in style between the two authors and makes finding the Emersonian underpinning 20 TranSlaTion review 80 a challenge. Yet Emerson’s words, as well as his thoughts, pervade the tribute and are part of what a translator faces in putting Martí—and what Martí took from Emerson—into another language. Those translating into English must decide whether to revert—double back—to Emerson’s wording or at least take it into account in their rendition, and no small part of this task is identifying the Emerson “quotes” and paraphrases in the lengthy context of Martí’s exuberant essay. An excellent example of success in this regard is Esther Allen’s translation of the Emerson essay in the Penguin edition of Martí’s Selected Writings. Because there are at least three published translations of Martí’s Emerson essay in English, students in translation or language and literature classes can compare the various translations and analyze how Emerson’s concepts are conveyed in each one, and the extent to which Emerson’s original wording is used. The chapter on Emerson in José Martí and U.S. Writers gives a complete listing of the quotes and paraphrases from Emerson that appear in Martí’s essay. Martí included in Spanish two poems by U.S. authors for La Edad de Oro. He included his translation of Emerson’s “A Fable,” calling it “Cada uno a su oficio” (To each his own), and although the Spanish version had three lines more than Emerson’s poem, Martí very nearly duplicated Emerson’s rhyme. Martí also gave a very free version of Helen Hunt Jackson’s “The Prince is Dead,” which he titled “Los dos príncipes” (The two princes). An edition in English of the entire Edad de Oro—an ambitious and admirable undertaking—was published in Cuba in 2001 and includes the two Martí poems in English translation. There is, however, in this edition, no return to the origin of the poems, and no acknowledgment by the translators that original poems, on which Martí based his work, exist. Students who are presented with Emerson’s rhymed poem (“A Fable”) and the English version translated from Martí’s rhymed translation will see in the reconstituted English work a poem quite different from Emerson’s. They can, in turn, appreciate the “distortion” produced by a desire to preserve rhyme (as Martí did) in the translation of poetry—especially if one wishes to get close to the literal meaning. The Helen Hunt Jackson poem is a similar case. Not all examples of doubling back need involve lengthy examples or focus exclusively on matters of style or suggest literary influence. Sometimes doubling back can expose mistakes. A very brief example can be found in regard to Versos sencillos, the verses Martí composed in 21 Spring 2011 the Catskill Mountains in 1890. Versos sencillos has forty-six numbered poems, none of which bears a title, although many are identified by a first line such as “Yo soy un hombre sincero” (I am a sincere man). Selected verses from this book, especially from the first poem, are sung in versions of the world-famous song Guantanamera, but Martí is not the author of the song or of a poem by that name! Popularizations and simplifications of Martí’s work have led some translators to take the title “Guantanamera” and ascribe it to Martí. Asking students to backtrack and search for the source with “Guantanamera” is an excellent way to let them discover that the “translated” title does not exist in Martí’s writing. Conclusions Examining translations of translated material can be a useful pedagogical tool. Instructors offering literature in translation and/or courses about translation can engage students in exercises that involve retranslation and comparison. Such exercises underscore the importance of understanding the cultural context of translated works. In many instances, using or considering backtranslation will require the professors, colleagues, graduate students, or highly proficient undergraduates to provide the retranslated examples that will be presented to students who are reading in English. Even if students are not able to double back on their own, backtranslation-based assignments can alert them to aspects inherent in reading translated literature: the difficulties translators face in translating those who’ve been translated, the significance of words that may seem unimportant, the vitality of elements of style, the evidence of mistakes and misunderstanding, and the sometimes surprising literary alliances and influences that can be revealed by doubling back. Teaching Resources Selected translations/editions of the Popol Vuh Popol Vuh: Las antiguas historias del Quiché. 7th ed. Trans. Adrían Recinos. México: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1952. Popol vuh : the definitive edition of the Mayan book of the dawn of life and the glories of gods and kings. Trans. Dennis Tedlock. New York: Simon, 1985. Popol Vuh: Libro Sagrado de los Mayas. Version by Víctor Montejo. Toronto: Groundwood, 1999. Popol Vuh: The Sacred Book of the Ancient Mayas-Quiche. Trans. David B. Castledine. 22 TranSlaTion review 80 México: Monclem, 2005. Popol Vuh: The Creation Myth of the Maya. Prod. Patricia Amlin. Berkeley Media, 1989. DVD. Popol Vuh: The Creation Myth of the Maya (Spanish version). Prod. Patricia Amlin. Berkeley Media, 1989. DVD. Selected Translations of Poe Poe, Edgar. The Black Cat and Other Short Stories/ Le chat noir et autres nouvelles. Trans. Henri Justin. Paris: Le Livre de Poche. 1991. ----. Cuentos I. Trans. Julio Cortázar. México: El Libro del Bolsillo, 1992. ----. Nouvelles histories extraordinaires. Preface Tzvetan Todorov. Trans. Charles Baudelaire. Paris: Gallimard, 1974. ----. Oeuvres en prose. Trans. Charles Baudelaire. Paris: Librarie Gallimard, 1951. ----. The Murders of the Rue Morgue/Los Crímenes de la Rue Morgue. Trans. Julio Gómez de la Serna. Madrid: Alhambra, 1985. Translations of Martí Martí. José. Selected Writings. Ed. and trans. Esther Allen. New York: Penguin, 2002. ----. The America of José Martí. Trans. Juan de Onís. New York: Noonday, 1953. ----. Martí on the U.S.A. Trans. Luis A. Baralt. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1966. Works Cited Alonso, Nancy. Cerrado por Reparación. Havana: Union, 2002. Castro-Klarén, Sara. “Nation, Latinos, and Public Literacy: What Is the ‘Pre-‘ of Pre- Columbian and the ‘Post-‘ of Postcolonial?” ADFL Bulletin 37.1 (2005): 16–21. Cervantes Saavedra, Miguel de. The First Part of the Delightful History of the Most Ingenious Knight Don Quixote of the Mancha. Trans. Thomas Shelton. Vol 14: The Harvard Classics, Ed. Charles W. Eliot. New York: P.F. Collier & Son 1909– 14. [On-line edition: Published March 22, 2001 by Bartleby.com]. ----. Don Quixote. Trans. Edith Grossman. New York: Harper, 2003. Chang Rodríguez, Raquel and Malva E. Filer. Voces de Hispanoamérica. 3rd ed. Boston: Thompson/Heinle, 2004. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Vol. 9. Boston: Houghton, 1904. Fountain, Anne. José Martí and U.S. Writers. Foreword Roberto Fernández Retamar. Gainesville: UP of Florida, 2003. ----, trans. and introd. Versos Sencillos: A Dual-Language Edition. By José Martí. Foreword Pete Seeger. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2005. Frame, Donald. “Pleasures and Problems of Translation.” The Craft of Translation. Eds. John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989. http:Bartleby.com 23 Spring 2011 García, Cristina. Dreaming in Cuban. New York: Ballantine, 1993. ----. Soñar en cubano. Trans. Marisol Palés Castro. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1993. ----. The Agüero Sisters. New York: Knopf, 1997. ----. Las hermanas Agüero. Trans. Alan West. Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1997. Hyslop, Lois Boe. Charles Baudelaire Revisited. New York: Twayne, 1992. Martí, José. Obras Completas. 28 vols. Havana: Editorial Nacional de Cuba, 1963–73. ----. The Golden Age. Trans. Elinor Randall. Revised by Keith Ellis. Havana: José Martí, 2001. Montejo, Victor. The Bird Who Cleans the World and other Mayan Fables. Introd. Allan Burns. Trans. Wallace Kaufman. Willimantic, CT: Curbstone, 1992. Poe, Edgar. The Black Cat and Other Short Stories/ Le chat noir et autres nouvelles. Trans. Henri Justin. Paris: Le Livre de Poche. 1991. ----. Cuentos I. Trans. Julio Cortázar. México: El Libro del Bolsillo, 1992. ----. Nouvelles histoires extraordinaires. Preface Tzvetan Todorov. Trans. Charles Baudelaire. Paris: Gallimard, 1974. ---. Oeuvres en prose. Trans. Charles Baudelaire. Paris: Gallimard, 1951. ---. The Murders of the Rue Morgue/Los Crímenes de la Rue Morgue. Trans. Julio Gómez de la Serna. Madrid: Alhambra, 1985. Popol Vuh: Libro Sagrado de los Mayas. Version by Víctor Montejo. Toronto: Groundwood, 1999. Popol vuh : the definitive edition of the Mayan book of the dawn of life and the glories of gods and kings, Trans. Dennis Tedlock. New York: Simon, 1985. Rabassa, Gregory. “No Two Snowflakes Are Alike: Translation as Metaphor.” The Craft of Translation. Eds. John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1989 Sharer, Robert J. The Ancient Maya. 5th ed. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1994. Triple Crown: Chicano, Puerto Rican and Cuban-American Poetry. Tempe, AZ: Bilingual Press/Editorial Bilingüe, 1987. Vinay, Jean-Paul and Darbelnet, Jean. Comparative Stylistics of French and English: A Methodology for Translation. Trans. and ed. Juan C. Sager and M.-J. Hamel. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 1995. Wilde, Oscar. The Wit and Humor of Oscar Wilde. Ed. Alvin Redman. Intro. Vyvyan Holland. New York: Dover Publications. San Jose State University From the SelectedWorks of Anne Fountain Fall 2010 Teaching Translations of Translations tmpAvBIpw.pdf 
work_la5mpqciwze2bgdshi6hccnopm	----	Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 Transatlantica Revue d’études américaines. American Studies Journal  1 | 2003 State of the Union François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Paris : Armand Colin. 2003. Pp. xviii, 171. Joel Porte Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/685 DOI : 10.4000/transatlantica.685 ISSN : 1765-2766 Éditeur AFEA Référence électronique Joel Porte, « François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. », Transatlantica [En ligne], 1 | 2003, mis en ligne le 05 avril 2006, consulté le 22 septembre 2020. URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/685 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/transatlantica.685 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 22 septembre 2020. Transatlantica – Revue d'études américaines est mis à disposition selon les termes de la licence Creative Commons Attribution - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modification 4.0 International. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/685 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Paris : Armand Colin. 2003. Pp. xviii, 171. Joel Porte 1 Appearing in the bicentennial year of Emerson’s birth, in connection with the inclusion of Emerson’s work as one of the set texts in the Agrégation, the volume of critical essays edited by François Brunet and Anne Wicke would seem to give official recognition to Emerson’s stature as a founding figure in American literature and culture, though the special number of RFEA devoted to Emerson in 2002 had already signaled a wide-spread interest in Emerson among French academics. Nevertheless, as noted by Brunet and Wicke in the introduction to their volume, “despite multiple efforts, at different times [to introduce Emerson to French readers], he still remains today an author curiously little-known in France.” Some of Emerson’s texts were presented in French translation by Émile Montégut as early as 1851, and by 1895 the Essays were “bedside reading” for Marcel Proust. Between 1900 and 1930 much of Emerson’s work became available in French, but this effort, as the editors inform us, underwent a kind of eclipse until the publication of Maurice Gonnaud’s magisterial doctor’s thesis in 1964 (Individu et société dans l’œvre de Ralph Waldo Emerson: essai de biographie spirituelle). Still, as the editors note, despite the devoted efforts of many French Americanists, “the work of the ‘sage of Concord’ remains, in French universities, a body of canonical citations rather than a true field of study.” Emerson’s Work in Prose announces at the outset that while threading one’s way through the “impressive labyrinth of Emersonian studies,” with all the “complications and contradictions therein revealed,” it is important to keep in mind that the central issue to which one constantly returns is “that of the invention of a specifically American language, or simply a language of one’s own.” Accordingly, Brunet and Wicke insist that their main concern in assembling “this work designed to serve as an introduction to Emerson’s oeuvre was to foreground the verbal dimension—textually and François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 1 rhetorically—of that oeuvre so as to provoke the French public to read Emerson and not become narrowly circumscribed by his ideas.” I think this is an admirable goal, though it is realized only fitfully in the volume, which actually offers a number of discussions (often quite rich) of concepts and movements—intellectual continuities and discontinuities, philosophical affiliations and problems. Thus, in the first essay in the collection Yves Carlet traces what he calls the “Transcendental religion” (semantic quotes) from its origins in seventeenth-century Puritanism through the deformations caused by the religious disputes characteristic of Emerson’s own time: “continuities and ruptures” is thus the subtitle of Carlet’s chapter. Carlet notes that modern readings of Emerson have been largely controlled by a “new doxa,” founded essentially on the work of Stanley Cavell, “whose gaze is directed more downstream than upstream, toward philosophy rather than religion, toward Wittgenstein and Heidegger more than toward Cotton Mather and Jonathan Edwards.” For those who follow this line, Carlet argues, Emerson tolled the knell of the oldtime religion and functioned as the mid-wife of a new secular national culture, “or at least one based on the discovery of alternative religious models.” Carlet’s chapter, however, tends to recapitulate the argument of Sacvan Bercovitch’s Puritan Origins of the American Self, seeing Emerson as being haunted by the ghost of John Winthrop. My own view is that neither the Cavellian approach nor that of Bercovitch is adequate to the complexities of Emerson’s role in American culture. We must read him in his own terms. In the second chapter in the collection, “Emerson and the Transcendental Movement,” François Specq rehearses the checkered history of this cultural event in its social, political, and intellectual aspects, and reasonably concludes that Emersonian Transcendentalism had a significant effect on American culture in its own time and retains a certain vitality even in current intellectual debate. Mark Niemeyer (in English) takes us back to “The American Scholar” in an essay entitled “Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Intellectual Declaration of Independence,” then goes back further to place Emerson’s address in the context of Jefferson’s “Declaration.” Anne Wicke (“The America to Come and the Burden of Europe”) weighs the balance of past and future in Emerson’s thinking about his young nation, also invoking John Winthrop’s “City upon a Hill” (loosely) as a model for Emerson’s “optative” view of America and its promise. In an essay usefully adding to current debate among American academics as to Emerson’s role as a public intellectual (“The ‘Sage of Concord’: An Engaged Intellectual?”) Aïssatou Sy-Wonyu argues, convincingly enough, that “it is hazardous to reduce Emerson to the role of a moralistic voice behind which lurks the terrible and bloody intentions of American imperialists”—a position taken recently by John Carlos Rowe. On the contrary she insists that Emerson was “never deaf to the voice of his conscience.” He was the “philosopher of a democracy on the march”—essentially a libertarian and a true idealist. Other essays in the collection deal with such questions as Emerson and modern capitalist America (“Idealism Tested by Materialism”—Marc Bellot) and Emerson in the heritage of American philosophy that leads (according to Sandra Laugier and Mathias Girel) from Williams James to—of course!—Stanley Cavell: “The invention of the ordinary by Emerson represents the discovery, or the foundation [to appropriate the François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 2 play on words of Cavell, ‘finding as founding’], of American thought.” Another essay, Mathieu Duplay’s “Emerson, the Art, the Poet,” moves through Emerson and the Romantic movement (with the help of Philippe Lacoue-Labarthe and Jean Luc-Nancy) and on to Emerson’s poetry of “utopian America.” Duplay argues, eloquently, that, following the example of The Eumenides of Aeschylus, Emerson as the poet of democracy will not allow his fellow Americans to turn away from the only “question that matters, that of the eternal and the beautiful”—which is to say “they will be the citizens of a New World yet to be discovered, an America of the mind that differs from the nation called the United States, as a True [book] is distinguished from a bad book of philosophy, or the Beautiful from a failed poem.” Finally in a chapter by Michel Imbert devoted to “Self-Reliance” (“Individualism or the Infinitude of the Self”), we do get some close reading (though Emerson’s texts are occasionally imperfectly reproduced) that, however, in the end subscribes to Layla Raïd’s untenable notion, in the RFEA volume edited by Sandra Laugier in 2002, that Emerson resorts to grammatical “non-sens” to achieve his rhetorical goals. What is one to do with an essay that concludes by glossing relying on oneself as “self relying relaying lying on/to oneself”? The jeu de mot in this case strikes me as a long way off from le mot juste. But the last word must be that despite differing anglophone and francophone habits of mind that sometimes seem to result in meanings getting lost in translation, the Brunet/ Wicke collection attests to a serious interest in Emerson in France and represents a valuable contribution to Emerson studies that should be noticed on both sides of the Atlantic. INDEX Thèmes : Recensions AUTEUR JOEL PORTE Cornell University François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 3 François Brunet et Anne Wicke éds. L’œuvre en prose de Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
work_lb7gi3h76vgl5ormzbije2ixau	----	America's First Women Philosophers: Transplanting Hegel, 1860-1925 (review) America's First Women Philosophers: Transplanting Hegel, 1860-1925 (review) Therese Boos Dykeman Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society: A Quarterly Journal in American Philosophy, Volume 42, Number 1, Winter 2006, pp. 164-167 (Review) Published by Indiana University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] https://doi.org/10.1353/csp.2006.0007 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/200090 https://doi.org/10.1353/csp.2006.0007 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/200090 Edwards found this conception of being too limited and insisted on the need to recognize the reality of the tendencies and propensities—what Charles Peirce would later call the general—that become manifest through a multitude of events and human actions. In this respect, Edwards, for all the emphasis that has been placed on his ‘Idealism’, was a realist in the philo- sophical sense; reality is not exhausted by particulars, because there are, as well, continuing structures in the natures of things.” 2. Jonathan Edwards (Cleveland: World Publishing Company, 1959). 3. Religion and the American Mind (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard, 1966). 4. See for example Anni Varila, The Swedenborgian Background of William James’ Philosophy (Helsinki, 1977), and R. W. B. Lewis, The Jameses: A Family Narrative (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1991). 5. R. B. Perry, The Thought and Character of William James, I (Boston, 1935), p. 130. 6. The Varieties of Religious Experience (New York: Longmans, Green, 1922), pp. 515–17. Dorothy G. Rogers America’s First Women Philosophers: Transplanting Hegel, 1860–1925 New York: Continuum, 2005. 208 pp. When Midwest met East in the late nineteenth and early twentieth cen- tury, Platonists from Illinois, Hegelians from Missouri, and Transcenden- talists from Massachusetts traversed back and forth by train from St. Louis, Missouri to Concord, Massachusetts in search of philosophical dialogue for knowledge and practical application. The wonder of this particular period of such transaction was led in part by women who wrote and taught philos- ophy. The story has yet to be written which details this travel and network- ing of the many women engaged in philosophical exchange. This text, however, begins the tale. The emphasis of locale in this text is St. Louis, but lines radiate in many directions, to Michigan, Chicago, California, and New England. The main connecting line is with the Concord School of Philosophy operated every summer for a ten-year period (1879–88) in Massachusetts. Offering lec- tures, discussions, and networking, the school was literally headquartered in the small building in the backyard of Bronson Alcott’s home. Here, the forces of the aging Ralph Waldo Emerson engaged with those of the younger William Torrey Harris. Harris, superintendent of the St. Louis schools and “founder and editor of the nation’s first journal devoted exclu- sively to philosophy, the Journal of Speculative Philosophy” becomes the prevailing focus of this text. Not only Bronson Alcott but also Ednah Dow Cheney and Julia Ward Howe, who taught at the Concord School, traveled to St. Louis to further engage with Harris and see firsthand the educational sys- R E V I E W S 164 tem Harris had implemented there. Most importantly, the philosophical center of attention in this text relates to the Americanization of Hegel. As in all ages, older philosophy is ever waxing and waning as newer philosophy is introduced. In this period, the idealist movement meets with the process movement; Hegel with pedagogical theory of Susan Blow, Anna Brackett, and Ellen Mitchell; Kant, in particular, with the peace theory of Lucia Ames Mead; and John Dewey with the political theory of Marietta Kies. Dorothy G. Rogers, in gathering together her first rate research, makes possible a future history of American philosophy that will offer a more accurate and inclusive rendering. In addition, this work will be essential to further research. Always problematic in discussing women thinkers in the nineteenth and early twentieth century is the term “philosopher,” a term Rogers sees rather as a matter of degree and ambiguity than as an absolute. Sufficing for the term “feminist” is the meaning—one who seeks an end to injustices to women. All the women whose lives and works are addressed in this text are philosophers to some extent, but not all are feminists, and of those, some as Rogers distinguishes them have more “maternal” than “lib- eral” feminist beliefs. Before examining the lives and works of the women identified with the St. Louis idealists, Rogers introduces seven male figures in the idealist circle and identifies their dominant themes. Before I begin a closer look at this text, I wish to note that this text recognizes a wide reality—in the cross pol- lination of disciplines, in the academization of women philosophers, and in the forwarding of philosophical thought in practice as well as in theory. Gone is the narrow vision of the history of philosophy that kept enfolded in silence the political philosophy of Mercy Otis Warren at the inception of this nation, and before her, the pragmatic ethics of Anne Bradstreet. Unfolded here are the contributions of women at the academic turn that occurred at the beginning of acceptance of women in academe and in higher degree programs in philosophy. It is the aim of Rogers’ text to unravel the fabric of women’s hidden and/or dismissed bequest to American philoso- phy at this critical point, 1860–1925. The following is a brief summary of the contributions of women in the philosophy of education, peace, and ethical politics that Rogers formulates as a legacy of American Idealism. The philosopher-educators in St. Louis agreed with Hegel’s notion that children have a right to education, and that education means confronting otherness and engaging in Selbsttätigkeit or “self-activity.” Susan E. Blow (1843–1916) directed the kindergarten program at the first continuous free public kindergarten system, publishing five books on the phi- losophy of early childhood education. Anna C. Brackett (1836–1911) was the first woman in the United States to be appointed principal of a secondary school. In directing the normal school, she applied to women and girls the educational theory of Karl Rosenkranz, Hegel’s disciple. Blow had studied under Froebel in Europe before opening the “first training school for kindergarten teachers in the US.” In her 1894 Symbolic R E V I E W S 165 Education, she advanced her theory that education primarily facilitated the process of unfolding the self. Toward that end, like Hegel, she disparaged “free play” that was not directed toward “intellectual and moral growth,” the will and the intellect being intimately linked, but she disagreed with John Dewey’s notion that education be a means or “civilizing force” rather than an end in itself. Crowds of hundreds gathered to hear her speak. One of the first women to serve as editor of a professional journal, Brackett saw teaching as a profession, the same as law, medicine, and reli- gion. As a feminist theorist she reconfigured the Hegelian idea that “women were innately bound to home” positing that women as well as men should seek knowledge as a part of the greater spiritual process unfolding in the universe, and that to gain intellectual and moral growth they must experi- ence the world outside the home as well. To be teachers, she argued, women should have the same opportunity for educational skills as those men enjoyed. By extending Hegelian theory to women, Brackett contributed to the philosophical movement in St. Louis. Brackett’s publications are exten- sive in both educational and philosophical journals as well as in books, e.g. The Philosophy of Education (1893), and Women and Higher Education (1893). Grace C. Bibb (1842–1912) and Ellen Mitchell (1838–1920) along with Brackett were among those women of the St. Louis idealist movement who traveled to take part in the Concord School of Philosophy. Rogers calls these serious students of philosophy outside the walls of academe, “para- professional philosophers.” A member of the Kant Club, Bibb became dean of the normal department at the University of Missouri at Columbia. Mitchell lectured on “Friendship in Aristotle’s Ethics” at the Concord School of Philosophy, held a full-time appointment as lecturer at the Uni- versity of Denver, wrote on Schopenhauer and Plato for JSP, and published Study in Greek Philosophy (1891), which is, according to Rogers, a model of Hegelian thought, despite the fact that his History of Philosophy did not appear in English until a year later. Coming later to the idealist movement, Eliza Sunderland (1839–1910) and Lucia Ames Mead (1856–1936) developed it in both para-professional and academic ways. Rogers points out that when only 20 women received doctorates in philosophy in the 20 year period 1880–1900 Sunderland was among them. Yet, passed over because of her sex, for a position to replace Dewey at the University of Michigan, she instead lectured at the Unitarian Church on Schopenhauer, Comte, Mill, etc. Invited to speak at the Chicago World’s Fair in 1893 at the men’s sessions on philosophy, her lecture was published along with her other essays on “religion, ethics, and women’s rights.” Having studied under Dewey and George Sylvester Morris at the University of Michigan, she wrote her dissertation on Kant and Hegel. Half of her writings focused on the history and philosophy of religion including Islam, and a significant part on “women’s roles and rights.” Ames Mead, tutored by her brother Charles, had no formal training in philosophy. While attending the Concord School of Philosophy, under the R E V I E W S 166 tutelage of Harris, she read Kant’s Perpetual Peace upon which she then based her “practical pacifism.” Her pacifist theory published in Patriotism and the New Internationalism (1906), Swords and Ploughshares (1912), and Law or War (1928), defines patriotism, not as involved in making and using guns, but as serving the country as teacher, farmer, doctor, etc., a patriotism which should be embedded in the education of children. Both Sunderland and Ames Mead applied philosophy to concrete efforts. Like Sunderland, Marietta Kies (1853–1899) was one of the few women to earn a doctorate in philosophy. At the University of Michigan Kies’ graduate study was guided by Morris and Dewey. Like Ames Mead, Kies also studied under Harris at Concord. Too young to be engaged in the development of the idealist movement, Kies published Harris’ lectures in An Introduction to the Study of Philosophy. Having taught at Mt. Holyoke, South Hadley, Massachusetts and Colorado College in Colorado Springs, at But- ler College, Indianapolis, she retained a position as professor of rhetoric. According to Rogers, her important contributions to the American philo- sophical canon lies in her judicious application of Hegel to social and polit- ical questions (except in terms of women’s rights), and in her theory of “justice” and “grace” valuable for “political philosophy today,” that was developed in her original works: The Ethical Principle and Institutional Ethics. The aim of inclusive history of philosophy is not merely to add women’s names, and justify them as philosophers, but rather to specify these women’s achievements in philosophy and their contributions to the discipline. To that end this text analyzes the works of seven women at a critical time in Ameri- can philosophical history. Perhaps subsequent scholars will make a different case as to their individual attainments. And it may be debatable as to whether the idealist movement that interpreted and translated Hegel, Fichte, Schelling and Kant was the “first genuinely philosophical movement in the nation” or if the best characterization of these late 18th early 19th century philosophers as “pre-pragmatic” as Rogers claims is accurate. The debate begun here in this “first philosophical examination” of the works of these women must con- tinue, for credit is due to in Mitchell’s words that “little band of women,” who assembled “to study and discuss the problems of philosophy.” Therese B. Dykeman Formerly of Fairfield University tbdykeman@aol.com George Reisch How the Cold War Transformed Philosophy of Science Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. xiv + 418 pp. In this important new book George Reisch casts valuable light on the history of analytic philosophy in the United States. In doing so, he corrects R E V I E W S 167 
work_lbunkdtjnvbopnaya7re6ioumu	----	Editor’s Column V ARIETY IS the spice of PMLA, as it is of life, and this issue offers yet another proof. Its contents cross national borders, straddle two centuries, scrutinize poetry and prose, apply diverse methods, converge on both text and context, honor ideology as well as creativity, search out tradition and innovation, and play out a range of concerns. The period, the area, the approach missing from this issue may be found in an earlier or a later one. At the same time, the collection of essays that follows reflects our efforts to give voice within each number to the internal dialogues that spring fortuitously from our backlog. Such a happy conjuncture of accepted manuscripts allows us to cel- ebrate a constituency whose presence in PMLA has not matched the prominence of its culture or of its impact on modem literary theory. We hope that the modest increase of submissions in the Slavic area represents a new trend and that the cluster of articles printed here will, like previous clusters and special topics, stimulate further contributions in the same field. These Russian voices should also help to dissipate any suspicions that hegemonic forces control PMLA's pages. We are indebted to Gary Saul Morson for his collaboration with us in the preparation of this grouping and for the lucid introduction that accompanies it. Morson’s review of the Slavic field, in which he situates the three essays on Russian literature, and his observations about the interface among social values, life experiences, and cultural expression are especially provocative in the light of recent political events in Eastern Europe. Along the way he invites careful reconsiderations of Bakhtin and of Slavists’ unique confrontation with literary theory. Joseph Brodsky, an MLA Honorary Fellow and a Nobel Prize winner, joins the Russian array with thoughts, strongly fastened to the artist’s vantage point, about the relation of poetry to modem consciousness and about the play between poetic language and social responsibility. Brodsky introduces to his readers a Lithuanian author whose career is inseparable from the political vagaries and upheavals that have brought various Slavic cultures and languages into fusion. The scenario of a Russian writing in his own tongue in North America for the Polish translation of a Lithu- anian poet seems to give testimony to the ravages of historical displace- ment. But writing a mere three years ago, Brodsky could not have foreseen that the Baltic states would themselves, with astonishing speed, achieve the autonomy that he claims for the poet. We are deeply grateful to Joseph Brodsky for allowing us to print an English version of his intro- duction to Tomas Venclova’s poetry. I would also like to express special thanks to Roslyn Schloss and to Ann Kjellberg for their mediating roles in our contacts with Brodsky. If “ideology,” in one sense or another and variously applied, often dominates today’s literary discussions, it also makes its presence felt in this issue, having thrust itself into three of the titles. Benjamin figures prominently and Marx, Balzac, and photography sit in unexpected but productive juxtaposition in Lynn Wilkinson’s article, which reaches far beyond Le cousin Pons as it examines the nature of representation and the very connotations of ideology. Whether or not readers agree with her thesis as they are invited to ponder varying kinds of interpretive activity, they are certain to find stimulating this conjunction of social history, mechanical reproduction, and the novel. “Ideology is one of the slipperier words in our political vocabulary,” Wilkinson admonishes as she strives to divest it of negative implications. Applying the term rather than scru- tinizing it, Elizabeth Langland shifts across the Channel, from French to Victorian fiction and from technology to domesticity. At the inter- section of sociology and literary criticism, of class and gender, Langland returns with fresh baggage to the “Angel in the House” icon and offers interesting perspectives on how to read a nineteenth-century novel. She extracts from a series of texts, and from discursive practices in the widest sense, the character of female agency and the special significance of the private sphere that women of the time occupied. Readers might extrap- olate from her observations about dress, etiquette, social conduct, and spatial arrangements conditions that apply to other national literatures as well. Modernism, too, is a charged term, and it graces two of the titles in this issue. Fortunately, it doesn’t fall to my lot to define the concept in this column, but both Helen Sword’s “Leda and the Modernists” and William Lyne’s “Signifying Modernist,” along with forthcoming essays, such as one on Chinese modernism and another subtitled “Post/mod- ernism, Gender, and the Canon,” led one Editorial Board member to observe that writers and the critical community appear to be in the process of redefining modernism. Sword, after surveying the Leda-Zeus myth’s iconography and literary variants, explores the effect of gender on the creative imaginations of several twentieth-century writers of various na- tionalities. How gender bears on the transmission of knowledge and how violation relates to inspiration are major concerns in her essay. Sword concludes that Leda, having become a troubled and troubling source of poetic inspiration, a site for male disquietude, has produced in modernist poets some unexpected responses, marked by the fragmentation in which modernism itself invests much power and meaning. While Sword can confidently take the modernism of her case studies for granted, William Lyne enters into the debate over Ralph Ellison’s presumed “modernist proclivities.” In fact, Lyne bounces Invisible Man off James, Eliot, and Dostoevsky in order to uncover in the novel a disruptive subtext that reveals Ellison’s antimodernist stance. Where others have read allusion and homage, Lyne finds critique and resistance, a paradox that he attributes to the “double consciousness” of the black artist in white America. Lyne explains the tragic quandary of a writer like Ellison and simultaneously offers a lively and perceptive reading of Invisible Man. Kun Jong Lee discovers in the same novel, which he also reads with sharp insights, both an echo and a revision of the American thinker whose names Ellison shares, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Lee’s bold thesis is that the question of race lies at the heart of Ellison’s critical reinterpretation of Emerson and that readers have failed to grasp the novel’s ambivalence toward Emersonianism, a philosophy that Ellison both affirms and negates in an act of constructive subversion. The op- portunity to unite in a single issue a pair of essays about Ellison is a measure of his importance on the contemporary American literary scene. The coincidence is also a product of the continuing flow of contributions on African American literature that PM LA’s special issue on that topic has spurred. We welcome this development and encourage further sub- missions in the African and African American areas. This issue closes with an essay by the MLA Honorary Member Hans- Georg Gadamer, published here for the first time in English. Part of our occasional Criticism in Translation feature, “The Expressive Power of Language: On the Function of Rhetoric for Knowledge” inserts the tra- ditional notion of rhetoric into the modern debates about language and touches directly on our trade as teachers. Gadamer’s piece speaks to all MLA members, regardless of their interests. The other essays are more specialized, but their authors clearly know enough about the expressive power of language to speak persuasively to a battery of readers. Recent submissions presage equally varied and stimulating fare in the future. JOHN W. KRONIK 
work_ldnxrrajf5cn7p2izkjzymlq64	----	Title <Articles>Ventriloquising the Voice : Writing in the University Author(s) Fulford, Amanda Citation 臨床教育人間学 (2010), 10: 112-122 Issue Date 2010-03-31 URL http://hdl.handle.net/2433/197087 Right Type Departmental Bulletin Paper Textversion publisher Kyoto University Record of Clinical-Philosophical Pedagogy, Vol. 10, 2009 Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University AMANDA FULF ORD Leeds Trinity & All Saints Institute of Education, University of London Until we are capable of serious speech again—i.e., are re-born, are men `[speaking] in a waking moment, to men in their waking moment' (XVIII, 6) - -our words do not carry our conviction, we cannot fully back them, because either we are careless of our convictions, or think we haven't any, or imagine they are inexpressible. They are merely unutterable (Cavell, 1981, p. 34). STUDENT WRITING IN UNIVERSITY In recent years there has been an increase in the number and variety of methods used by universities to support students' writing at undergraduate and at Masters' levels. This is exemplified by more formal study preparation courses at induction, study skills packs and websites, taught courses on academic writing, and the appointment of tutors whose primary role is to support students with the development of academic and study skills. One particular study skills aid has been the writing frame, now used widely to support students in the preparation of summatively assessed written work. (An example is provided in the Appendix.) The writing frame is typically designed by lecturing staff to offer very structured support for their students' writing. The frame often supplies very detailed scaffolding of a particular type of written task, not only in respect of overall structure and organisation, but also with regard to required content in general and in specific terms, and of appropriate elements of language, style and compliance with academic conventions. The increasingly widespread use of writing frames, particularly in schools, tends to be seen as a positive move to encourage reluctant or struggling writers, and the writing frame's more general appeal in the school context lies in its potential to help develop children's confidence with some of the basic aspects of genre, of structuring writing and of enhancing textual cohesion. In the university, the writing frame appears to serve a rather different purpose from that in school contexts. Its use is ineluctably linked to formal student assessment rather than being used, as is generally the case in schools, as a developmental tool. Where students have been advised, or even required, to use the writing frame in presenting work for grading, the tutor can more easily assess the extent to which the student has complied with the requirements of the assignment. In this way, it is argued, the consistency of assessment decisions is increased, and standardisation of marking is more easily attained, especially in cases where large numbers of © 2010 The Author Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University ''3 assignments are being marked by different tutors. The writing frame typically guides students' work and may merely give simple content headings as prompts. More detailed writing frames perform an additional function and determine students' sentence structure, choice of words and forms of expression through the provision of model sentences from which students make selections or into which they insert the appropriate terms. Such tools, it is often argued, help students to articulate their ideas using an appropriate register and to comply with the more general conventions of writing in academia. The practice of using writing frames has long been established in adult literacy classes to support the development of writing, but more recently has been recognised by England's National Literacy Strategy for schools as a valuable resource for supporting children's writing skills across different curriculum areas (DfEE, 2000). Indeed, inspectorate bodies and curriculum advisors from different sectors of education highlight the use of such supporting strategies and applaud the 'scaffolding' that teachers are able to offer and the differentiation in teaching and assessment that such tools afford. Such initiatives, however, are not limited to European approaches to the teaching of writing. Annemarie Jackson's work in the United States shows how writing frames can be used effectively by teachers to model and to support narrative writing as pupils work towards independent composition (Jackson, 2003). The increasing use of the writing frame in the university might be attributed to two key factors. First, recent years have witnessed a shift, particularly in the United Kingdom, from an elite, to a mass higher education system as part of an agenda of widening participation to university education, and in addition a shift to a broader curriculum that includes vocationally oriented courses and programmes of professional training and development. The increasing number of non-traditional university entrants, from culturally, socially and linguistically diverse backgrounds may be one contributory factor in the need some universities perceive to support students in replicating the specific discourses of more traditional forms of academic writing. Some students, indeed, feel an uneasiness in relation to aspects of what is generally considered as 'academic writing'. This is not primarily the result of a lack of confidence, or even ability, with written—as opposed to oral—forms of expression as some may claim, but, as Theresa Lillis' empirical investigations appear to show, is symptomatic of some students' views that academic writing involves a conflict, even a denial of the self (Lillis, 2003). Given these not insignificant changes in the student population, and in light of the time constraints and resource pressures faced by universities, the difficult issue of supporting such student need is indeed a pressing one, and the writing frame appears to offer a desirable mechanism for supporting assessed writing. A second, and perhaps more compelling, reason for the prevalence of writing frames within the university is the culture of performativity that pervades assessment regimes. In many institutions students' work must meet particular learning outcomes in addition to specific assessment criteria. In an education system increasingly driven by market forces, the achievement rates on courses have rarely been subject to such scrutiny, and the need to provide a competitive edge in student support has rarely been so urgent. More significantly, students paying considerable sums of money in tuition fees naturally appear keen to protect their investment and improve the likelihood of their passing assessments through the use of aids specifically designed to help with each written assignment. Writing frames are one way of (-1) 2010 The Author "4 A. Fulford increasing the chance that students' written work is structured appropriately, contains relevant content and conforms to academic conventions, with the result that the likelihood of success, though not guaranteed, is enhanced significantly. But little consideration seems to be given to what type of learning is engendered by the use of the writing frame in a university education. Is such learning in some way artificial, and what might constitute a more authentic academic development? In considering how students are best served in terms of their academic development, attention needs to be drawn to the distinction between the writing frame as a particular manifestation of support for student writing, and other forms of induction to, or assistance with, aspects of academic work that enable, rather than restrict, the possibilities of thought. The approaches that enable students to develop their skills of confident argument in writing, or to defend and refine their ideas in the light of criticism, might rightly be considered as supporting legitimate educational aims in the university, and moreover, what we might call a student's writing voice is developed through learning these very skills. I argue that student writing can be affected detrimentally when it is merely constructed in response to such rigid frames. Moreover, in some cases the whole focus of the assessment appears changed. The use of the writing frame is driven and controlled by the pressures of the assessment. Writing frames seem to offer students an increased chance of success in assessment, and the university the possibility of an increase in student achievement rates. Indeed the writing frame used as a tool to serve to the needs of the assessment process reduces marking to a somewhat simplistic `tick-box' approach, rather than the considered assessment of students' knowledge, understanding, argument or critical thinking in a discipline. Marking of students' work in these cases is merely reduced dimished to an assessment of the extent to which the student has complied with the requirements of the writing frame. In a prevailing educational culture where assessment controls teaching methods to a seemingly ever increasing extent, it is not too bold a statement to say that writing according to the requirements of a frame is seen to be what writing is: indeed in some institutions, it champions what academic writing means. The unease felt by some university staff over the growth in the use of writing frames is partly one of level: what might be appropriate for introducing style and genre to school children or to adults in literacy classes is highly questionable in, for example, a Masters' level university education. To use an analogy from foreign language teaching: the use of student drills that is characteristic of many beginner classes is alien to the authentic speaking required in an advanced class. Just as the language spoken by the beginner level student who repeats the teacher's drill is far removed from what it means to speak a language, so an essay following the restrictive and prescriptive directives of the writing frame is in no way an example of what it means to write in the university. But it is not just an issue of level; the writing frame also raises a second question concerning the degree of support provided. If we imagine some kind of continuum of support for students' writing, where the valuable discussion between lecturer and student on approaching, for example, the essay, a critically reflective account or the writing up of the report, is at one end of the continuum, then the use of of a highly prescribed writing frame clearly sits towards the other end. Whilst this is suggestive of a problem merely of degree, I argue, in ways that will become apparent, that the most detailed forms of the writing frame, increasingly commonly used in the university, represent a qualitative shift of a very significant kind. This © 2010 The Author Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University II5 shift can be signified by a brief consideration of issues of form and content in writing. There is an inescapable and complex intertwining of concepts in any piece of writing, and the form in which such concepts are expressed. Martha Nussbaum elucidates the writer's art as follows: Certain thoughts and ideas, a certain sense of life, reach towards expression in writing that has a certain shape and form, that uses certain structures, certain terms. Just as the plant emerges from the seeded soil, taking its from from the combined character of seed and soil, so the novel and its terms flower from and express the conceptions of the author . . . Conception and form are bound together; finding and shaping words is a matter of finding the appropriate, and so to speak, the honorable, fit between conception and expression (Nussbaum, 1990, pp. 4-5). Advocates of the writing frame might argue that Nussbaum's comments only serve to show the usefulness of such a tool, enabling--they might call it 'empowering'—students to write, to seamlessly unite form and content. But this would be to entirely dismiss what is at the heart of Nussbaum's discussion of the writer's art: that a writer's text is 'fully imagined' and crucially for this discussion, all that makes up a piece of writing (form and content) 'flower from and express the conceptions of the author, his or her sense of what matters' (p. 5). And here is the very root of the problem for the writing frame: that it determines the content of a student's writing, not enabling the expression of her sense of what is important, but another's. Consider for a moment the sonnet and the haiku, both sophisticated poetic forms, each with its own established structural form which the poet follows. But such fauns are not in themselves restrictive, rather they are structures that are enabling, they release the possibility of thought. In contrast, what is most problematic about the writing frame is not particularly that it is a device for establishing structure, but that it is one that in determining content, to use Nussbaum's words, refuses the flowering of the author's expressions and of her sense of what matters; it strips the writer of her power not only as an author, but also as a thinker. VOICE IN EDUCATION Current educational discourses seem preoccupied with the notion of encouraging, developing and providing opportunities for the expression of student voice. As Paul Standish has pointed out, voice here is understood in a highly restricted sense (Standish 2004). The emphasis on voice is one that promotes student participation, be it in the classroom through discussion, or in students' contributions to organisational quality assurance and improvement processes through the completion of, for example, end of course questionnaires where voice is synonymous with the opinions of the customer, with gaining feedback, with individual student self-expression, and with the importance of hearing the voice of the hitherto silenced learner. This is evidenced in the proliferation of assignments that require such tasks as completing a learning biography; developing and maintaining a personal development portfolio; keeping a reflective learning diary, or of writing a critically reflective account of one's professional practice. Indeed, in education, self-expression, often termed 'reflective practice', has become something of a broadly unquestioned mantra. Such emphasis on self-expression can tend towards narcissism and a 2010 The Author Ii6 A. Fulford limited view of the individual as self-contained, as in some way attained, and therefore capable of voicing self-expression in an unproblematic fashion. Voice understood merely as self- expression, celebrates the finding, recognition and acknowledgement of the self without any sense of journeying towards that self that is characteristic of Emersonian moral perfectionism, or indeed of the role of the other in the perception of the self. Voice in education is often used with reference to the practices of writing shared by the academic community across a number of subject disciplines. Writing can be highly prescribed within many traditions, not only in a limited number where the rhetorical and linguistic structures are, arguably, most easily identified. The writing frame is prized in higher education because it is seen as a tool for the development of voice in writing. But Paul Stapletons's work (2002) highlights the problem with approaches to writing that give disproportionate emphasis to `voice' in relation to the actual content of the work. And this is the intractable problem of the most detailed forms of the writing frame when used in the university. Marketed as a tool of developing a student's academic voice, it not only determines style and structure, perhaps in a way that is useful for some students, but also the content and the very thrust of the argument itself. It is prescription not only of what might be said, but also of what can and must be said. If student voice is understood as the expression of an individual's grappling with the problems in her subject and her exploration of these through her writing such that the result is, to use Nussbaum's words, the expression of the 'author's sense of what matters', then the writing frame denies the very voice that it promises. The writing frame, therefore, gives voice not to the student, but to its author's interpretation of the perceived rules of the discipline in relation to how, and what, knowledge is presented and therefore privileged. Theresa Lillis' work illustrates how students' writing seems engaged with what amounts to a mere 'reproduction of official discourses' (Lillis, 2003, p. 193). She attempts to show that these practices are found particularly in much pedagogy of academic writing, because they recognise and aim to reproduce only certain powerful discourses, whilst denying voice to others. This often unthinking conformity with epistemological and textual conventions in academic writing—a conformity that is an inherent risk of the writing frame—leads to a form of academic voicelessness. In challenging what she terms ̀ monologic', though Emerson might call 'conformist', practices in education, Lillis draws on Bakhtin to argue strongly for a more dialogic approach to the pedagogy of academic writing, and for the bringing together of different discourses to create hybrid texts. There is a danger here, though, that Lillis' approach, with its emphasis on discussion and negotiation of assignment content, her desire for student writing to be open to what she terms 'external interests and influences' (p. 204) leading to hybrid texts as new ways to 'construct meaning', might lead to what Standish refers to as 'a kind of tokenism of expres sion' (Standish, 2004, p. 104). The so-called development of student voice using tools such as a writing frame, I argue, lead to a kind of voicelessness. It is as if the means by which the voice is developed can actually reinforce a state of voicelessness. The point to be made here is that the writing frame, a tool of academic voice tuition, has the potential—especially in the university —to repress thinking and to result in a state of academic voicelessness. The very idea of a writing frame embodies not only the authorised, monologic nature of much knowledge in some academic disciplines, but also reinforces accepted ways of its expression and presentation. The performative culture in higher education that embraces the use of such aids leads to the silencing © 2010 The Author Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University i 17 of the student and to formulaic learning that amounts to a faking of education itself. VOICE AND PHILOSOPHY In exploring here a richer sense of how student voice in writing might be understood, I draw on the understandings of the term that have been pursued in Stanley Cavell's philosophical writing. Voice as textually mediated pronouncement or enactment, a form of self-expression in writing, is highlighted by Timothy Gould in his exploration of the concept in what he calls the method of Stanley Cavell's philosophy. For Gould, voice is a necessary condition of human expression (though is neglected and repressed by certain forms of philosophy): 'I learned to hear the question of the voice as epitomizing an entire region of questions about the means by which human beings express themselves and the depth of our need for such expression' (Gould, 1998, p. xv). Cavell's writing, its intricacies; it deliberate obfuscations; the breadth of its literary and film allusions; its ploys to slow the reader down; in sum, its style, is his philosophical project, the expression of his voice. In what follows, I want to explore voice somewhat differently, as a notion that incorporates aspects of personal expressiveness, writing style, as authenticity, but also as a more complex term that is concerned with the person an individual is; with her having a language; the relationships she has with her community; her responsibility to her language and her society, that is, her responsibility to say what she means. It is voice understood in these terms that is at risk of being silenced in the university. Voicelessness and Conformity With the use of a rigid frame, writing takes on the literal meaning of composition, that is, of putting together. But the far richer sense of composition, which involves a crafting of language, is lost. Let me offer the following analogy. Suppose a cabinet maker, a master craftsman, were creating a bespoke piece of furniture, the end product would be unique, and, upon inspection, the hand tooled joints, the marks of the plane, the depth of polish, would all be evident. This would be, however, a very different piece of furniture from the shop-bought, flat packed, ready to assemble piece that contains all the necessary elements, together with clear instructions for the order of assembly. Perhaps the idea of an apprentice here would be a useful one, especially as the origin of the word lies in its meaning as 'someone leaming'—apprentis, as distinct from `someone being taught' . Moreover, Heidegger states that the work of the teacher is more difficult than that of the learner, because 'what teaching calls for is this: to let learn' (Heidegger, 1968, p. 15). For Heidegger, the craft of the apprentice is not learned by gathering knowledge or by repeated practice only. Stanley Cavell, in discussing Heidegger's What is Called Thinking, makes a similar point when he quotes from Emerson: "'Truly speaking, it is not instruction, but provocation, that I can receive from another soul." What translation will capture the idea of provocation here as calling forth, challenging?' (Cavell, 1990, pp. 37-38). What is more important, wherein lies true learning, is in developing a response to the different woods and to `the shapes slumbering within them' . Surely the crafting of language is no different. This is (rD' 2010 The Author 118 A. Fulford suggestive of the apprentice recognising the possibilities of the wood in the same way as the student releasing the possibilities of thought in her writing. What is needed in the pedagogy of academic writing is not an approach that merely leads to unthinking observance, but the facilitation of student voice that recognises the importance of crafting, and of artistry. This is not a requirement for endless creativity; rather it is a moving away from the prevalent idea of the assignment with its rigid criteria that can be measured, to consider again the essay with its roots in essayer, to attempt or endeavour. Whilst the craftsman and apprentice analogy illustrates the expression of individual voice, Cavell is also concerned with the political, the community's voice, and he finds richer senses of this in readings of Ralph Waldo Emerson and of Henry David Thoreau. Whilst Emerson rejects conformity in favour of self-reliance, this is no mere individualism; conformity is a threat to democratic society, but self- reliant individuals benefit society, its religion, arts and culture. Non-conformity, characterised by aversive thinking, reminds us of Thoreau's description of thinking as being: 'beside ourselves in a sane sense' (Thoreau, 1854/1999, p. 123). 'Writing', Cavell claims, 'is the aversion of conformity, is a continual turning away from society, hence a continual turning toward it, as if for reference . . . One might call this process of writing deconformity' (Cavell, 1996, p. 66). Recovery of Voice If a student's voice has been repressed by the educational practices of academic writing to which she is subject, how might he recovery of voice be characterised? First, what is required is an initiation into language as it were, that previously has been blocked or frustrated for the student by particular educational practices. This is not an easy, once for all event, but rather part of an ongoing relationship with words that Thoreau describes as being our father tongue. Acquiring the father tongue is characterised by a finding of ones's own way rather than by an unthinking reliance on the monlogues imposed by others. Finding one's own voice, indeed one's own way, is part of the teaching of Thoreau's Walden: 'I desire that there be as many different persons in the world as possible; but I would have each one be careful to find out and pursue his own way, and not his father's or his mother's or his neighbor's instead' (Thoreau, 1854/1999, p. 65). Second, as Cavell highlights from his readings of a genre of 1940s Hollywood film that he terms the 'Melodramas of the Unknown Woman' the recovery of (a woman's) voice from the monologues of a man, is through a form of conversation with another, a turning away from one form of language to embrace another. In the films, Cavell highlights the role of the other involved in this conversation as crucial for the recovery of voice (Cavell, 1996, 2004). I want to argue that in the university, the tutor is the 'other' who initiates the conversation that develops the student's voice in her writing. LESSONS FOR THE PEDAGOGY OF ACADEMIC WRITING What, then, does all this imply for the pedagogy of academic writing and for what it is to write in the university? One significant point is that writing frames, particularly in their most detailed forms, may well deny the student voice that they aim to facilitate because they stifle the release CO 2010 The Author Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University 1.9 of the possibilities of thought in writing through their prescription of content as well as structure. A further point is that student voice in academic writing cannot be forced through a tool such as a writing frame, for to do this is to subject students to a form of ventriloquism. Writing frames facilitate an easy and unquestioning reliance on established traditional forms, that can be a path to mere conformity. The development of voice for the student is through a process of initiation into the father tongue, into a form of language that may have been claimant and suppressed by academic practices such as the writing frame. But just as Thoreau's father tongue is an ongoing process, one of growth, of daily observance, so is the development of student voice. The discussions in this paper have implications for both the student and the academic writing tutor. If the student is truly to find voice, in whatever discipline she studies, then she must see this not as something merely 'acquired' through the mastery of technical skills. Just as the apprentice to the master craftsman watches and is aware of all the skill and artistry that comprise a unique piece of furniture, and as Thoreau's reader develops an understanding that she must find her own way of accounting for her life and language, so the student, embarking on academic writing should avoid thinking that the acquisition and demonstration of a limited number of techniques is the end of a journey. A student needs to recognise not only the denial of her voice and the denial of herself, but also the enormity of what the journey to recovery of her voice will entail. Curricula for academic writing must surely deal seriously with what Cavell terms the `grown-up social state of deafness to one's voices' (Cavell, 1994, p. 35). Recognition of, to use Emerson's term, the 'unattained self, is indeed 'a step in attaining it' (Cavell, 1990, p.12), and the process of its attainment, 'something we repetitively never arrive at, but rather, . . . a process of moving to, and from, nexts' (ibid.). Lillis calls for a re-examination of what knowledge is privileged in academia, and for the inclusion in student writing of different discourses to foreground the students' own experiences of the world. Whilst this might succeed in altering the tenor of students' academic writing in a limited fashion, what Cavell draws attention to in his discussion of writing philosophy, is to its nature as `autobiographizing, deriving words from yourself (Cavell, 1994, p. 41). Should this not also be a characteristic of academic writing, the kind that promotes students' self reliance, develops their autonomy as writers and which recognises their ongoing acquisition of the father tongue? The recovery of voice involves a readiness to be receptive to the new, to depart from settled ways of thinking or writing, to use Thoreau's celebrated pun, to embrace both 'mourning' and `morning' . Such a mourning, a leaving of some words behind, is necessary in order to aspire to others and be found by others. This aspect of the recovery and development of voice is notably absent from Lillis' discussions. Whilst she demonstrates successfully that students feel voiceless in the face of the academic writing practices and assessment requirements of many universities, her proposed solutions at best offer only a temporary outlet for self-expression at a given moment in time, and risk the very prescription and performativity of certain forms of academic writing which her design approach was intended to overcome. If the denial of voice is a denial of the self, then the recovery of voice is a finding of the self and the expression of voice a continual process of re-finding one's self. Any curriculum for academic writing should recognise the denial of the self that mere mastery learning suggests, and the ongoing possibilities for the creation of the self that voice coaching affords. The continual creation of the self, through the development of voice, is, for Cavell, akin to a re-birth; not a physical experience, but a re-birth © 2010 The Author 120 A. Fulford into language, into 'serious speech', that is, into the father tongue. This is suggestive of a different and compelling notion of voice, one that speaks loudly to the academic community: voice is not something that can, or should, be taught and learned through an aid such as a writing frame, but rather developed as an expression of the worded nature of our individual and political lives. NOTE 1. Cavell (1996, p. 3) identifies the following films as representative of the genre: Stella Dallas (1937) Now Voyager (1942) and Gaslight (1944). REFERENCES Cavell, S. (1981) The Senses of Walden (San Francisco, North Point Press). Cavell, S. (1990) Conditions Handsome & Unhandsome: The Constitution of Emersonian Moral Perfectionism (Chicago, The University of Chicago Press). Cavell, S. (1994) A Pitch of Philosophy: Autobiographical Exercises (Cambridge, Harvard University Press). Cavell, S. (1996) Contesting Tears: The Hollywood Melodrama of the Unknown Woman (Chicago, The University of Chicago Press). Cavell, S. (2004) Cities of Words: Pedagogical Letters on a Register of the Moral Life (Cambridge, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press). Department for Education & Employment (DfEE) (2000) The National Literacy Strategy: Grammar for Writing (DfEE0107/2000 London, DfEE). Gould, T. (1998) Hearing Things: Voice and Method in the Writing of Stanley Cavell (Chicago, The University of Chicago Press). Heidegger, M. (1968) What is Called Thinking (New York, Harper & Row). Jackson, A. (2003) Narrative Writing Instruction for Primary Grades: A Project Using Writing Frames, Cue Words and Sentence Starters (unpublished MSc dissertation, Connecticut State University). Lillis, T. (2003) Student Writing as 'Academic Literacies': Drawing on Bakhtin to Move from Critique to Design, Language and Education, 17.3, pp. 192-207. Nussbaum, M., (1990) Love's Knowledge: Essays on Philosophy and Literature (Oxford, Oxford University Press). Standish, P. (2004) In Her Own Voice: Convention, Conversion, Criteria, Educational Philosophy & Theory, 36.1, pp. 91-106. Stapleton, P., (2002) Critiquing Voice as a Viable Pedagogical Tool in L2 Writing: Returning the Spotlight to Ideas, Journal of Second Language Writing, 11, pp. 177-190. Thoreau, H. D (1854/1999) Walden (Oxford, Oxford University Press). © 2010 The Author Ventriloquising the Voice: Writing in the University I 21 ************** Appendix Writing Frame for Final Assessment of BA in Education: Introduction to Research—year 1 Core Module This frame provides a structure for your consideration of the issues raised by planning to undertake a piece of small scale empirical research. Following the guidelines below will enable you to meet the module learning outcomes. You should note the headings and detail required against which you will be assessed: 1. Introduction (200 words) Identification of research question or hypothesis 1.1 Introduce your questions. E.g. 'This small scale study proposes to answer the following question(s): . . ' 1.2 Description of context for the research (national or regional policy/organisational) E.g. `This research is of current importance in the field of . . . because of . . . 2. Justification of approach to the research (400 words) 2.1 State your broad approach to the study: is it interpretive or positivist? 2.2 Situate your research within the field. Answer the following questions: (i) Is this an entirely new field of research? If not, what distinctive approach are your taking (methodologically; with your sample; with data analysis?); (ii) What existing research is there in your field—historical and current? E.g. 'Although research has been carried out in this area over the last . . . years (give citations), the most current work is being undertaken by . . . (give citations).' 2.3 Justification of why the research fits into one of the categories—or how it crosses the boundaries E.g. 'Although this research will be of a broadly qualitative nature as it will use . . . as its main data collection method, the use of . . . demonstrates that quantitative data will also be considered because . . . 3. Description of and justification for proposed research method(s) (1000 words) 3.1 Justification for the choice of research method or methods 3.2 Describe each method in turn. Answer the following questions (i) What does the literature say are the advantages of your method(s) for the kind of question(s) you are posing? Give citations to texts from the indicative reading list; (ii) What other methods might you have chosen, and why did you reject them? 3.3 Analysis of any issues of triangulation. What kind of triangulation will you use (methodological triangulation? participant triangulation? triangulation in analysis?) Why? 3.4 In this section you should also cover: © 2010 The Author 122 A. Fulford • internal validity of the method(s); reliability of the method(s) • a discussion of population and justification for the size of the sample • method (s) of sampling (random, purposive, stratified?) Discuss the effect of the sample and sampling method on the data 4. Ethical issues (300 words) 4.1 To introduce this section, define ethics within the research process. (use citations and/or quotes from the module notes). Show knowledge of the various guidelines affecting educational research—e.g. BERA guidelines. 4.2 Show how you would approach ethical issues in your research. Answer the following questions: (i) How would you gain institutional ethical clearance? (ii) how would you gain informed consent? (iii) What measures would you put in place to ensure participant confidentiality? Ensure that you append copies of your documentation as appendices to your work. 4.3 In this section you should also cover: • Ethical issues in the collection of data (you should take a position on taping and video taping participants; what are the advantages/disadvantages of taping and transcribing over taking notes?) • Ethical issues in the writing up of data (for example, participant editing) • Storage of data, access to and destruction of data • Power relationships in the research process 5. Data analysis (400 words) 5.1 For each type of data you collect, include a section on how you will analyse it. Specify the process of data analysis (make reference the relevant literature covered in the module). In particular, cover the following areas: • Consideration of ICT versus manual methods • How you will deal with anomalies in your data • Critical discussion of your own positionality and its effects on the data analysis process • Generalisability (external validity) of the data and issues of demographics 5.2 Remember to relate this section to work that has already been done in your field. E.g. `Whilst the studies undertaken by . . . and . . . (citations) focussed on . . . in the data analysis process, my plan is to . . . because . . 6. Conclusion (200 words) 6.1 You must show awareness of the difficulties that can arise in the research process and of the cyclical, rather than linear, nature of much educational research. Answer the following questions: (i) How might you need to adapt your research plans? (ii) How might funding of your research or institutional commissioning affect your plans? How might timescales affect your plans? How might the research be developed given additional resources? © 2010 The Author 
work_ldsowstucbbcrluxh573uj23x4	----	reviews 57 IMAJ • VOL 16 • JANUARY 2014 Fatigue, the enduring sensation of weakness, lack of energy, tiredness or exhaustion, is described by 40%–80% of patients with rheumatoid arthritis as their most disabling symptom with wide-ranging consequences for quality of life. Little attention has been paid to its multidimensional nature or to its reliability as a measure to evaluate progression of the disease. Low impact aerobic exercise affects the level of fatigue, and this same level of fatigue influences the exercise itself. We searched Medline, Cochrane Collaboration Register of Controlled Trials (CCRCT), Lilacs, PubMed and Scopus databases for randomized controlled trials (with appropriate description of methods, materials and results) on the assessment of fatigue and exercise. Review articles, case reports, letters to the editor and editorials were excluded. Of 121 references initially identified, 4 randomized controlled trials met the inclusion criteria. Two studies used the MAF scale (Multidimensional Assessment of Fatigue), one used the MAC (Mental Adjustment to Cancer) fatigue scale, and all trials used POMS (Profile of Mood States) to assess fatigue. All four trials conducted a 12 week program of two to three times/ week and different periods of follow-up. Two studies used low impact aerobic exercise, one used dance-based exercise, and another study followed a home cardiopulmonary conditioning program using a stationary bicycle. While fatigue appears to be a reliable outcome measure in the clinical management of RA, especially when related to exercise prescription, further research is needed to evaluate the correlation between exercise, fatigue and quality of life, using fatigue scales validated to explore the different components of fatigue and its wide-ranging consequences. IMAJ 2014; 16: 57–60 rheumatoid arthritis, fatigue, exercises, fitness, quality of life exercise and Fatigue in rheumatoid arthritis Sandor Balsamo MSc PhD1,2,3, Leonardo R. Diniz PT DO1,2,4, Leopoldo L. dos Santos-Neto MD PhD FACP1,2 and Licia M.H. da Mota MD PhD1,2 1Graduate Program in Medical Sciences, School of Medicine, University of Brasília (UnB), Brasília, Brazil 2Rheumatology Service, University Hospital of Brasília (HUB) UnB, Brasília, Brazil 3Department of Physical Education, Central University UNIEURO, Brasília, Brazil 4Corpo Clinic of Physiotherapy and Osteopathy, Brasília, Brazil aBstract: KeY wOrds: F atigue is the enduring sensation of weakness, lack of energy, tiredness or exhaustion, reported by 40%–80% of rheumatoid arthritis patients as their most disabling symptom [1-3]. Unlike normal tiredness, fatigue is chronic, typically not related to overexertion and poorly relieved by rest. It is often multifactorial and could be worsened by disease-related components, including comorbid conditions, disease duration, functional status, disease activity, lifestyle factors, level of activ- ity, and inadequate social support [1-3]. Because it is regarded as an extra-articular symptom, little attention has been paid to its multidimensional nature and its wide-ranging effects on quality of life. Until recently, the significance of fatigue for patients failed to capture the atten- tion of many clinicians, with patients reporting a lack of sup- port from health professionals who relate mainly to physical problems and disease activity. Moreover, patients sometimes believe nothing can be done and do not talk to their physician about fatigue [4,5]. Unlike pain and disability, fatigue is rarely addressed as a treatment target in its own right and is seldom recom- mended as a main outcome for clinical trials. The OMERACT (Outcome Measures in Rheumatology) network of interna- tional researchers highlighted fatigue as a main outcome and recommended that it be measured whenever possible [4]. Fatigue was identified as a reliable distinguisher of quality of life between RA1 patients who are doing well and those who are doing less well. According to Minnock et al. [6], fatigue is a valid and reliable outcome measure in RA, ranking third for relative sensitivity to change after pain and tender-joint count. They also found fatigue to be an independent measure of out- come and recommended that it be considered for inclusion as a main outcome measure in RA [4,6]. There are several scales to assess fatigue but only a few are val- idated as reliable tools. Hewlett and colleagues [7] conducted a systematic review of the scales used to measure fatigue in RA and the evidence for their validation. They found 23 fatigue scales of which 17 had no data on validation or limited evidence. Six scales showed reasonable evidence of validation: two are generic, namely POMS (Profile of Mood States) and SF-36 (Medical Outcomes Study 36-item Form Health Survey), and four are spe- cific, MAF (Multidimensional Assessment of Fatigue), Ordinal Scales, VAS (Visual Analogue Scale) and FACIT-F (Functional Assessment of Chronic Illness Therapy Fatigue) [7]. RA = rheumatoid arthritis reviews 58 IMAJ • VOL 16 • JANUARY 2014 Historically, exercise in general was prescribed for pain relief and improvement of joint mobility and flexibility. In recent decades exercise has increasingly been directed towards improving muscle strength and aerobic capacity in order to enhance functional ability and quality of life. Reduced function will result in decreased ability to perform activities of daily living, decreased independence, and adoption of a sedentary lifestyle with its resultant negative psychosocial impact and increased risk for cardiovascular disease [8]. The 2012 Brazilian consensus group for RA recommends aerobic exercise such as cycling, walking, running and swim- ming. They advise exercise of 20 minutes or more at least twice a week, but limited to 60% of the heart rate based on the patient’s age [9]. It is currently accepted that regular exercise can improve aerobic fitness, increase strength and alleviate pain in patients with autoimmune rheumatic diseases [2]. However, fatigue is rarely assessed as an outcome measure [10-12]. Given that fatigue in RA affects quality of life, functional capacity and daily activity, and that exercise can reduce pain and fatigue levels, once the latter is evaluated as an outcome measure to prescribe exercise (its type and/or duration), we reviewed the assessment of fatigue as an outcome measure and a predictor of exercise in rheumatoid arthritis. For the period August to October 2012, Medline (1985–2012), the Cochrane Collaboration Register of Controlled Trials (CCRCT), Lilacs, Pubmed (1985–2012), and Scopus databases were searched in Portuguese, English, Spanish, French and Italian. The key- words used in the search were rheumatoid arthritis, fatigue, fitness, physical activity, and exercise. Inclusion criteria were randomized controlled trials (with appropriate description of methods, materials and results) on the assessment of fatigue and exercise. Review articles, case reports, letters to the editor and editorials were excluded. The title and abstract of the articles obtained in the initial research were revised by two independent observers in order to identify those that met the inclusion criteria. The articles selected were then revised, and their bibliographical references were analyzed to identify additional sources.Of the selected articles, the following data were examined: type of study, size of the sample, methods, statistical analysis, and results. The meth- odological quality of the papers was evaluated with the Jadad scale, comprising three items quantifying the probability of bias in the trial according to the description of randomization, masking, withdrawals and dropouts. Scores range from 1 to 5, with studies scoring 1 or 2 considered of low quality and those scoring 3 to 5 of high quality [12]. Of the 121 references initially identified in the cited data- bases, 37 were duplicates and 69 were considered irrelevant. Of the remaining 15 references 11 were excluded because they did not fulfill the inclusion criteria, leaving 4 randomized controlled trials that met the inclusion criteria. Figure 1 is a flow chart of reference selection. Using the Jadad scale, evaluation of the trials ranged from 2 to 5 (0–2 low quality, 3–5 high quality) with an average quality score of 3.25. One of the selected papers scored 5 [13], another scored 4 [10] and two studies scored 2 [14,15]. A total of 311 patients were evaluated in the trials, the mean number of patients in each trial was 77 (range 25–220), and the mean age ranged from 39 to 55.5 years. Table 1 presents a description of the patients. All four articles evaluated the effects of exercise intervention on fatigue, assessing the latter as an outcome measure. Three scales were used to assess fatigue: the MAF2 [10,13] in two stud- ies, the MAC3 [15] in two, and the POMS4 in all [Table 2]. All four trials conducted a 12 week program of 2 to 3 times/week and different periods of follow-up. Two studies involved low impact aerobic exercise (with one foot always on the ground and no running or jumping movements) [10,13], one used dance- based exercise [14], and one followed a home cardiopulmonary MAF = Multidimensional Assessment of Fatigue MAC = Mental Adjustment to Cancer POMS = Profile of Mood States Fatigue is a common complaint in ra and has wide-ranging consequences for quality of life table 1. Description of patients, by trial Patients neuberger et al. [13] neuberger et al. [10] noreau et al. [12] daltroy et al. [15] total n (%) n (%) n (%) n (%) n (%) Sample size 220 25 29 37 Male 38* (17%) 11 (44%) 9 (31%) 3* (7%) 61 (19%)** Female 182* (82%) 14 (56%) 20 (69%) 34* (93%) 250 (80%)** Age (yr) (mean) 55.5 55 49.4 39 50 Duration of disease (yr) (mean) 8.0 9.8 9.5 NA 9§ *Estimated values based on the percentage given by the authors **Number and percentage estimated §Mean value NA = not available Figure 1. Flow chart of reference selection Titles and abstracts initially found (n=121) Duplicates (n=37) and not randomized control trial papers (n=69) Papers excluded after full text evaluation and quality scoring (n=0) Papers not fulfilling inclusion criteria (n=11) Papers selected for full text review (n=15) Papers for final analysis (n=4) Papers selected for full text evaluation and quality scoring (n=4) reviews 59 IMAJ • VOL 16 • JANUARY 2014 [6]. It should be recognized that fatigue is a common complaint in primary care, with a broad differential diagnosis – from phys- ical to psychological – rendering its approach complex and difficult to treat [16]. The present review aimed to analyze trials assessing fatigue as an outcome measure and a pre- dictor of exercise in rheumatoid arthritis. The research yielded four papers meeting the inclusion criteria. The results showed reasonable evidence that the effects of exercise on fatigue are dose-related, although not statistically significant. It also shows conditioning program using a stationary bicycle [14]. Table 3 describes the protocol and scales employed in each study. Neuberger et al. [13] and Daltroy et al. [15] established the target heart rate as 60–80% of the maximal heart rate achieved at baseline, while Noreau et al. [14] fixed the target heart rate at 50% of the maximal heart rate for the first 3 weeks, and 70% of the maximal heart rate for the last 9 weeks. Neuberger et al. [10] did not evaluate heart rate at baseline, nor did they affix a specific value to it. Statistical analysis of change in the perception of fatigue in all studies, using POMS, MAF and/or MAC scales, showed a decrease in fatigue levels. Although statistical significance was not obtained (0.03 ≤ P ≤ 0.10), the results provide reasonable evidence that fatigue could influence exercise prescription (type of exercise and/or duration) and that the effects of exercise on fatigue are dose-related. All trials were described as randomized, but only one study explained how the subjects were randomly allocated. The initial status was documented, and a homogeneity test was performed in all studies. Follow-up was completed in all studies, and sub- jects who were withdrawn from the study or who dropped out were documented. ratiOnale Several studies have evaluated the effects of exercise on fatigue, but only a few assessed it as an outcome measure. There are also several instruments to assess fatigue; some are brief, quantita- tive and symptom-focused, while others are multidimensional. However, only six scales show reasonable evidence of validation Further studies should compare the available questionnaires and scales with the current core set measures to determine which better assesses fatigue in its multidimensional aspects table 2. Sample, protocol and scales used author Year sample Protocol scales used Neuberger et al. [13] 2007 class* home** control Low impact aerobic exercise: 12 wk, 1 hr, 3 times/wk POMS MAF 68 79 73 Neuberger et al. [10] 1997 high§ med^ low° Low impact aerobic exercise: 12 wk, 1 hour, 3 times/wk 15 wk follow-up POMS MAF 8 8 9 Noreau et al. [14] 1995 exercise control Dance-based exercise: 12 wk, twice/wk counseling session once/wk 6 mo follow-up POMS 19 10 Daltroy et al. [15] 1995 exercise control Cardiopulmonary conditioning with stationary bicycle: 12 wk, 3 times/wk 12 wk follow-up POMS, MAC 19 18 *Classes at a fitness center, **classes at home using a videotape of the same exercise §31 to 36 exercise classes, ^25 to 30 exercise classes, °24 or fewer exercise classes POMS = Profile of Mood States, MAF = Multidimensional Assessment of Fatigue), MAC = Mental Adjustment to Cancer table 3. Results and P values of each study author scales P valuesPOms maF [10,13] / mac [15] Neuberger et al. [13] class* home** control class* home** control 0.04 BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT 1.53 1.35 1.16 1.23 1.52 1.37 24.91 20.74 20.08 19.23 21.88 20.88 Neuberger et al. [10] high§ med^ low° high§ med^ low° 0.05 ≤ P ≤ 0.10 BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT 1.23 1.05 1.39 0.83 1.13 1.36 19.79 17.1 18.5 13.7 17.5 19.4 Noreau et al. [14] exercise control – 0.06 ≤ P ≤ 0.08 BL PT BL PT 7.89 5.68 9.40 9.50 Daltroy et al. [15] treatment control treatment control 0.03 ≤ P ≤ 0.10 BL PT BL PT BL PT BL PT 12.4 7.6 11.4 10.3 18.1 16.5 20.4 18.9 *Classes at a fitness center, **classes at home using a videotape of the same exercise §31 to 36 exercise classes, ^25 to 30 exercise classes, °24 or fewer exercise classes BL = baseline, PT = post-test reviews 60 IMAJ • VOL 16 • JANUARY 2014 Phys 2006; 49 (6): 385-8. 5. Rat A-C, Pouchot J, Fautrel B, Boumier P, Goupille P, Guillemin F. Factors associated with fatigue in early arthritis: results from a multicenter national French cohort study. Arthritis Care Res 2012; 64 (7): 1061-9. 6. Minnock P, Kirwan J, Bresnihan B. Fatigue is a reliable, sensitive and unique outcome measure in rheumatoid arthritis. Rheumatology 2009; 48 (12): 1533-6. 7. Hewlett S, Hehir M, Kirwan JR. Measuring fatigue in rheumatoid arthritis: a systematic review of scales in use. Arthritis Care Res 2007; 57 (3): 429-39. 8. Plasqui G. The role of physical activity in rheumatoid arthritis. Physiol Behav 2008; 94: 270-5. 9. Mota LMH da, Cruz BA, Brenol CV, et al. 2012 Brazilian Society of Rheumatology Consensus for the treatment of rheumatoid arthritis. Rev Bras Reumatol 2012; 52 (2): 152-74. 10. Neuberger GB, Press AN, Lindsley HB, et al. Effects of exercise on fatigue, aerobic fitness, and disease activity measures in persons with rheumatoid arthritis. Res Nursing Health 1997; 20 (3): 195-204. 11. Harkcom TM, Lampman RM, Banwell BF, Castor CW. Therapeutic value of graded aerobic exercise training in rheumatoid arthritis. Arthritis Rheum 1985; 28 (1): 32-9. 12. Jadad AR, Moore RA, Carroll D, et al. Assessing the quality of reports of randomized clinical trials: is blinding necessary? Control Clin Trials 1996; 17: 1-12. 13. Neuberger GB, Aaronson LS, Gajewski B, et al. Predictors of exercise and effects of exercise on symptoms, function, aerobic fitness, and disease outcomes of rheumatoid arthritis. Arthritis Rheum 2007; 57 (6): 943-52. 14. Noreau L, Martineau H, Roy L, Belzile M. Effects of a modified dance-based exercise on cardiorespiratory fitness, psychological state and health status of persons with rheumatoid arthritis. Am J Phys Med Rehabil 1995; 74 (1): 19-27. 15. Daltroy LH, Robb-Nicholson C, Iversen MD, et al. Effectiveness of minimally supervised home aerobic training in patients with systemic rheumatic disease. Br J Rheumatol 1995; 34 (11): 1064-9. 16. Kitai E, Blumberg G, Levy D, Golan-Cohen A, Vinker S. Fatigue as a first- time presenting symptom: management by family doctors and one year follow-up. IMAJ 2012; 14 (9): 555-9. 17. Repping-Wuts H, Uitterhoeve R, van Riel P, van Achterberg T. Fatigue as experienced by patients with rheumatoid arthritis (RA): a qualitative study. Int J Nursing Stud 2008; 45 (7): 995-1002. 18. Häkkinen A, Sokka T, Kotaniemi A, Hannonen P. A randomized two-year study of the effects of dynamic strength training on muscle strength, disease activity, functional capacity, and bone mineral density in early rheumatoid arthritis. Arthritis Rheum 2001; 44 (3): 515-22. 19. Mota LMH da, Cruz BA, Brenol CV, et al. 2011 Consensus of the Brazilian Society of Rheumatology for diagnosis and early assessment of rheumatoid arthritis. Rev Bras Reumatol 2011; 51 (3): 207-19. 20. Mayoux-Benhamou M. Reconditioning in patients with rheumatoid arthritis. Ann Readapt Med Phys 2007; 50 (6): 382-5, 377-81. 21. Pereira IA, Mota LMH da, Cruz BA et al. 2012 Consensus of the Brazilian Society of Rheumatology on comorbidities management in patients with rheumatoid arthritis. Rev Bras Reumatol 2012; 52 (4): 483-95. 22. Rat A-C, Pouchot J, Fautrel B, Boumier P, Goupille P, Guillemin F. Factors associated with fatigue in early arthritis: results from a multicenter national French cohort study. Arthritis Care Res 2012; 64 (7): 1061-9. 23. Physical Activity Guidelines Advisory Committee. Physical activity guide- lines advisory report. Washington (DC): Health and Human Services, 2008. 24. Aletaha D, Neogi T, Silman AJ, et al. 2010 Rheumatoid arthritis classification criteria: an American College of Rheumatology/European League Against Rheumatism collaborative initiative. Arthritis Rheum 2010; 62 (9): 2569-81. that fatigue affects exercise performance and is a reliable mea- sure for the prescription of physical activity. On the other hand, the review shows a lack of studies with rigorous random sampling selection and blinding (single or double blinded), and the articles analyzed do not provide suffi- cient data to answer many questions with reliability. Future stud- ies should provide the missing data, such as the type of training (i.e., strength training), as well as the average frequency, inten- sity and duration of the exercise intervention. Also required are more complete data on compliance with the exercise pro- tocol. The issue of dose response is important given the recent recommendations from the Physical Activity Guidelines for Americans calling for additional dose-response analyses [17]. cOnclusiOns There is a lack of studies assessing fatigue as an outcome mea- sure of patients with RA doing exercise; but the articles ana- lyzed provide reasonable evidence that fatigue can be used both as a main measure in RA and as a good predictor of physical activity. Although there are several questionnaires and scales available to evaluate fatigue, clinical trials should be conducted to compare these tools with the current core set measures to determine which better assesses fatigue in its multidimensional aspects. Finally, fatigue appears to be a reliable outcome mea- sure in the clinical management of RA, especially with regard to exercise prescription. However, there is a need for further research to evaluate the correlation between exercise, fatigue and quality of life, using validated fatigue scales, such as those described by Hewlett et al. [6] to explore the different compo- nents of fatigue and its wide-ranging consequences. corresponding author: dr. s. Balsamo Programa de Pós-graduação em Ciências Médicas, Faculdade de Medicina, Universidade de Brasília (UnB), Brasília 70910-900, Brazil Phone: (55-61) 3107-1701 Fax: (55-61) 3107-1907 email: sandorbalsamo@gmail.com references 1. Balsamo S, Santos-Neto LD. Fatigue in systemic lupus erythematosus: an association with reduced physical fitness. Autoimmun Rev 2011; 10: 514-18. 2. Perandini LA, Sa-Pinto AL, Roschel H, et al. Exercise as a therapeutic tool to counteract inflammation and clinical symptoms in autoimmune rheumatic diseases. Autoimmun Rev 2012; 12: 218-24. 3. Gendelman O, Amital H. Is it tiring to deal with fatigue? IMAJ 2012; 14 (9): 566-7. 4. Mayoux-Benhamou M. Fatigue and rheumatoid arthritis. Ann Readapt Med “Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers” Lord Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), Poet Laureate of Great Britain and Ireland during much of Queen Victoria’s reign and remains one of the most popular British poets “the true test of a civilization is, not the census, nor the size of the cities, nor the crops – no, but the kind of man the country turns out” Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), American essayist 
work_lieshmruebeqbjr5o77mgbcc2e	----	Sovereignty of the Living Individual: Emerson and James on Politics and Religion religions Article Sovereignty of the Living Individual: Emerson and James on Politics and Religion Stephen S. Bush Department of Religious Studies, Brown University, 59 George Street, Providence, RI 02912, USA; stephen_bush@brown.edu Received: 20 July 2017; Accepted: 20 August 2017; Published: 25 August 2017 Abstract: William James and Ralph Waldo Emerson are both committed individualists. However, in what do their individualisms consist and to what degree do they resemble each other? This essay demonstrates that James’s individualism is strikingly similar to Emerson’s. By taking James’s own understanding of Emerson’s philosophy as a touchstone, I argue that both see individualism to consist principally in self-reliance, receptivity, and vocation. Putting these two figures’ understandings of individualism in comparison illuminates under-appreciated aspects of each figure, for example, the political implications of their individualism, the way that their religious individuality is politically engaged, and the importance of exemplarity to the politics and ethics of both of them. Keywords: Ralph Waldo Emerson; William James; transcendentalism; individualism; religious experience 1. Emersonian Individuality, According to James William James had Ralph Waldo Emerson in his bones.1 He consumed the words of the Concord sage, practically from birth. Emerson was a family friend who visited the infant James to bless him. James’s father read Emerson’s essays out loud to him and the rest of the family, and James himself worked carefully through Emerson’s corpus in the 1870’s and then again around 1903, when he gave a speech on Emerson (Carpenter 1939, p. 41; James 1982, p. 241). A number of key ideas are central to the thought of both: individuality and self-reliance; the dangers of conformity and docility; the primary importance of experience and action; a sense for individual and collective possibility; a high regard for the moral life; a commitment to the task of perfecting one’s moral character;2 and a vital link between morality and religion. James of course does not line up with Emerson wholesale, that would be a wholly inappropriate stance to take vis-à-vis one who says that “imitation is suicide” (Emerson 1983, p. 259). He has his points of disagreement. In particular, he rejects the cosmic monism, non-empirical intuitionism, and abstract ideality that he associates with Emerson’s transcendentalism (Carpenter 1939, pp. 42–43, 49–56). But they have much in common. To be sure, their points of agreement deal with themes that were in the air in nineteenth-century North Atlantic intellectual culture, and it is possible that James arrived at his insights through other sources or that “he discovered them for himself” (Carpenter 1929, p. 458). Without attempting to settle the lines of influence decisively, I follow those who regard Emerson as a significant influence on James in particular and pragmatism in general.3 We should take James 1 He writes in his diary, “I am sure that an age will come . . . when Emerson’s philosophy will be in our bones.” Quoted in (McDermott 1982, p. xxi). 2 Emerson’s perfectionism is well known, thanks in considerable part to (Cavell 1990). James’s perfectionism is not as widely acknowledged. For discussions of his commitment to moral self-cultivation, see (Slater 2009, 142ff.; Bush 2017, chp. 5). 3 See, for example, (West 1989; McDermott 2007, pp. 88–105; Perry 1935; Albrecht 2012). Religions 2017, 8, 164; doi:10.3390/rel8090164 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8090164 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 164 2 of 16 seriously at his word in calling Emerson “exquisite,” his “beloved Master” (James 1982, p. 115), and, with colloquial affection, “really a critter to be thankful for” (Carpenter 1929, p. 472).4 Whether James derived his view of the individual from Emerson exclusively, derived it from Emerson as one primary influence among other influences, or found affirmation in Emerson for views he gleaned otherwise, at the very least James worked through his doctrine of the individual with Emerson in mind, and he arrived at the same conceptual terrain as Emerson on this and related matters. In this essay, I will argue that this is so by considering their respective accounts of individuality, noting how both of them relate individuality to politics and religion in similar ways. I will challenge some prevailing ideas about both the political and religious implications of the individuality of each of these two giants of American thought, showing that Emerson’s and James’s individuality is more political than many accounts allow. Any attempt to compare Emerson and James on a given topic is complicated by the fact that for both of these figures, no consensus exists among interpreters on how we are to understand their individualism, their politics, and their religiosity. Emerson in particular is difficult to pin down. His individualism has been claimed by anti-democrats, radical democrats, liberals, and libertarians. His religious commitments have been pegged as naturalist, super-naturalist, pantheistic, and irreligious.5 He is a brilliant stylist and rhetorician, more interested in unsettling and provoking his audience than in laying out a coherent system of thought on any topic. He slyly warns his readers not to expect from his oeuvre quick and tidy positions on any topic: “a foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds” (Emerson 1983, p. 265). Since the scope of the present essay precludes exhaustive exposition of Emerson’s corpus, the question is, whose Emerson will serve as the counterpart to James in this comparative exercise? My starting point (though not the exclusive frame of reference) will be to engage with Emerson as James understands him, since this is a version of Emerson we must grapple with anyways to understand the relation between the two, and it is a topic of interest in its own right. As for the relevant understanding of James, here I will rely on the textual and argumentative work that I have done elsewhere (Bush 2015, 2017). James makes numerous references to Emerson throughout his published oeuvre and his correspondence, but most of them are brief. His most extensive reflections on Emerson come primarily from two primary sources, both produced at roughly the same time, Varieties of Religious Experience (delivered as lectures in 1901 and 1902) (James 1985) and his address on Emerson at the centenary celebration of Emerson’s birth (1903) (James 1982, pp. 109–15).6 We will also consider two passing but significant mentions of Emerson in “On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings” (James 1983, pp. 132–49). James’s sole dedicated treatment of Emerson’s thought comes in his contribution to the centenary celebration of Emerson’s birth, a speech delivered on 25 May 1903, at Concord, Massachusetts. The essay is brief (it was a twenty-minute speech), and it is easy to overlook the richness of the substance therein. Indeed, John McDermott says, “with regard to the influence of Emerson on James, the address is disappointing,” and in McDermott’s view, it is concerned with only one theme, “possibility,” which comes by “the hallowing of the everyday” (McDermott 2007, p. 99). In contrast, I see a richer, more substantial account both of Emerson’s key themes, as James understands them, and of Emerson’s influence on James. When James identifies what for him is “the soul” of Emerson’s message, it is the “sovereignty of the living individual” (James 1982, p. 112). And in addition to the topic of individuality, two other prominent related topics emerge, that of receptive attention 4 Furthermore, as Carpenter points out, it is not just that James read Emerson in the 1870’s, he read and reread him, with copious notes: “[James’s first two volumes of Emerson’s writings] have obviously been read many times . . . Almost every page of the text is underlined or annotated.” (Carpenter 1939, p. 41). 5 For a helpful survey of the secondary literature on Emerson’s religious identity, see (Friesner 2017, chp. 2). 6 For a helpful survey of a number of James’s references to Emerson on a broader range of topics, see (Stafford 1953, pp. 433–61; Perry 1935). Religions 2017, 8, 164 3 of 16 (which corresponds to McDermott’s “hallowing of the everyday”) and vocation. We will treat each of these in turn, and later, as we shall see, all of them will prove to have political and religious implications. What sort of individuality does James attribute to Emerson? It is that of (as in the title of Emerson’s famous essay) “self-reliance.” “The only way to be true to our Maker,” James explains, “is to be loyal to ourselves.” He continues, “there is something in each and all of us, even the lowliest, that ought not to consent to borrowing traditions and living at second hand (James 1982, p. 111). Self-reliance has to do with a constellation of attitudes toward self and others. Principally, one regards oneself as the primary authority in various domains of one’s life: epistemically, religiously, morally, and politically. One does not defer unthinkingly to the opinion of anyone else on these matters. This is not to say that one ignores the testimony or authority of others, whether one’s peers, institutional officials, or the ancient traditions, it is just to say that one considers the proposals that these make in light of one’s own values, experiences, aims, and personal history. To live at second hand is to take part in routines and habitual ways of thinking and acting simply because one has been socialized into them or instructed to do so. James quotes Emerson from “Self-Reliance”: “Imitation is suicide” (James 1982, p. 111; Emerson 1983, p. 259). Emerson counsels that we reflect critically on the routines, values, and social roles that shape our personalities and institutions. As James explains, “This faith that in a life at first hand there is something sacred is perhaps the most characteristic note in Emerson’s writings” (James 1982, p. 111). A first-hand life is one in which one counts one’s own experiences, one’s own history, and one’s own aims as principal factors as one deliberately and responsibly forms for oneself the values and ideals that guide one’s conduct and activities. Of course relying on oneself requires that one cultivate the sort of self who is worthy of self-reliance, and this is no more so true than when it comes to the matter of experience. This brings us to the topic of receptive attention. Individuality means that one has one’s own vantage point in the world, and thus requires that one attend to one’s surroundings with care. “The individual open[s] thus directly into the Absolute,” James says (James 1982, p. 111). That is, living first hand means acknowledging that all of us can perceive, for ourselves, truth. It is careful perception of the details that surround us, with the recognition that universal themes are apprehensible therein. We are to give ourselves to “seeing freshly” (James 1982, p. 111). “There are times when the cawing of a crow, a weed, a snow-flake, or a farmer planting in his field, become symbols to the intellect of truths equal to those which the most majestic phenomena can open. Let me mind my own charge, then, walk alone, consult the sky, the field and forest, sedulously waiting every morning for the news concerning the structure of the universe which the good Spirit will give me” (James 1982, p. 110). Emerson is a “seer,” one who has the capacity to appreciate, in the specific situations that surround one, that one is interconnected with one’s environment, intimately in touch with the moral and spiritual structure of the world. The “individual fact and moment” are “suffused with absolute radiance” (James 1982, p. 114). The first-hand familiarity with moral, religious, and aesthetic realities is key to Emersonian individuality, and Emerson calls us all to pursue it. Also key to Emersonian individuality is fealty to one’s particular vocation. One must have a sense for oneself of what one’s role is, what one’s duties are, and what ideals serve as the ends of one’s life. “The individual must in reason be adequate to the vocation for which the Spirit of the world has called him into being,” James writes. People must “be incorruptibly true to their own private conscience,” determining for themselves their “appointed place and character” (James 1982, p. 112). This too is a first-hand, as opposed to a second-hand life. We must reject any unthinking accommodation to the roles others would design for us or assign to us. We should live from a clear sense of what our own contributions to the world will be. Emerson himself refused all causes and associations, no matter how worthy, that were not in keeping with his particular insights, aptitudes, and aims (James 1982, pp. 110, 115). His duty was “spiritual seeing and reporting,” and his reporting took the form of his speeches and essays, fashioned with such style that James calls him an “Artist” (James 1982, p. 110). That was Emerson’s vocation, others must find their own. And it is no easy task, one must pursue one’s vocation, grow into it. One must be “authentic” and “genuine” if one is to Religions 2017, 8, 164 4 of 16 enjoy the “indefeasible right to be exactly what one is.” No matter what one’s vocation is, so long as one executes it with faithfulness, no one is “insignificant” (James 1982, p. 113). This vocation is not merely for one’s own self-enhancement or private pleasure, rather it has to do with one’s contribution to the society in which one lives. One’s character and activities are necessarily publicly expressed, they have an effect on those around one. One’s thoughts “publish themselves to the universe” (James 1982, p. 113). One’s deeds are a “proclamation,” the onlooker will “greet and accept [them]” (James 1982, p. 113). In treating these three themes—individuality, receptive attention, and vocation—in his centenary address, James speaks of Emerson’s religiosity. Every person participates in the “Cosmic Intellect” and has direct access to the “Absolute” (James 1982, p. 111). Quoting Emerson from his poem “Voluntaries,” James states Emerson’s creed as, “So nigh is grandeur to our dust/So near is God to man!” (James 1982, p. 111). For Emerson, “Divinity is everywhere,” and “All God’s life opens into the individual particular” (James 1982, p. 114). James can even say that Emerson’s “total thought” exhibits an “intensely religious character” (James 1982, p. 112). In Varieties, James speaks about Emerson’s religious thought at greater length. Early in the book, James gives his famous definition of religion: “Religion, therefore, as I now ask you arbitrarily to take it, shall mean for us the feelings, acts, and experiences of individual men in their solitude, so far as they apprehend themselves to stand in relation to whatever they may consider the divine” (James 1985, p. 34). Then he turns immediately to the question as to just what counts as “divine,” and whether non-theistic principles could be such. According to “Emersonianism,” James says, God “evaporate[s] into abstract Ideality . . . not a superhuman person, but the immanent divinity in things, the essentially spiritual structure of the universe” (James 1985, p. 34). James quotes Emerson’s Divinity School address at some length to elucidate the view that divinity, for Emerson, is the moral “soul of order” of the universe. Whether such soul involves consciousness or not, it “protect[s] all ideal interests and keep[s] the world’s balance straight” (James 1985, pp. 34–35). James insists that even if Emerson’s perspective construes the cosmic, divine soul as an impersonal, moral structure, it is nevertheless properly considered religious. And experiences of the Emersonian transcendent are properly considered religious experiences: “It would be too absurd to say that the inner experiences that underlie such expressions of faith as this and impel the writer to their utterance are quite unworthy to be called religious experiences” (James 1985, p. 36). This, then, in outline, are some of the key tenets of what we know about James’s view of Emerson’s philosophy. How do these ideas square with James’s own views about individuality? 2. James’s Individuality James, like Emerson, is committed to the sovereignty of the individual. Indeed, he characterizes his philosophy as “individualistic” (James 1992, vol. 8, pp. 521–22). Individuality for James means to appreciate and endorse the various ways in which one person differs from the next, in outlook, upbringing, habit, character, personality, and profession. Whereas communitarians and traditionalists value what people share with one another, individualists like James celebrate and cultivate difference. James, like Emerson, subscribes to the crucial importance of self-reliance. For him, this means that when it comes to our beliefs, our morality, our politics, and our religion, we should treat ourselves as a locus of authority. In Pragmatism, James describes belief acquisition not as a matter of deferring to some authority figure, regardless of how such proposals mesh with our own history, but as a matter of testing candidates for belief against our previous store of beliefs (James 1975, pp. 34–37). This gives our own personal experiences and autobiography a preeminent position over and against any propositions others would try to foist upon us. This is, he says, what gives us our “dignity and . . . responsibility as thinkers” (James 1975, p. 123). In terms of the moral and political ideals by which we live, James, like Emerson, rejects the idea that we would live second hand, on the basis of others’ ideals that we take uncritically as our own. In his essay, “What Makes a Life Significant,” he rejects the idea that one can adopt and follow one’s life’s ends as a matter of “sodden routine” (James 1983, p. 163). Rather, one’s Religions 2017, 8, 164 5 of 16 ideals must be consciously chosen, “intellectually conceived,” meaning that we have reflected upon our lives’ teloi and endorsed those that we regard as appropriate for us. One commits oneself to one’s ideals, “we are their live champions and pledges” (James 1975, p. 137). This is true when it comes to religion, too. James’s definition of religion in Varieties, recounted above, places central emphasis on individuals and their experiences. James deflects attention away from institutional religion in order to study “personal” religion, in which “the individual transacts the business by himself alone, and the ecclesiastical organization, with its priests and sacraments and other go-betweens, sinks to an altogether secondary place. The relation goes direct from heart to heart, from soul to soul, between man and his maker” (James 1985, p. 32). This is religion first hand. To conform unthinkingly to the rituals and beliefs of tradition is “second-hand” (James 1985, p. 33). All this talk of the authority of the individual might make it sound as though James subscribes to a view of the individual as independent, unencumbered by social relations, thoroughly autonomous, and atomistic. This is not the case. Neither Emerson nor James sees individuality as the default condition of the human being. Both, in fact, are worried about the opposite, that docility and conformity are far more prevalent. Both see individuality as something that must be worked for and achieved, in a process that requires interrelationality and dependence all the way through, even as it encourages one to cast a reflective and critical eye on the ways in which one is dependent. James recognizes the thorough extent to which we are all social, thoroughly enmeshed in relations of care and dependence. Indeed, he goes so far as to endorse the view that we hardly differ from one another at all, we are so much so products of our day and age. In “The Importance of Individuals,” James writes, “An unlearned carpenter of my acquaintance once said in my hearing: ‘There is very little difference between one man and another; but what little there is, is very important.’ This distinction seems to me to go to the root of the matter” (James 1979, p. 191). To a large extent, our beliefs are a product of our inheritance, the process of socialization we all undergo (James 1975, p. 122). The work we do in exercising epistemic authority over our beliefs is not an act of self-creation, but an act of critical evaluation of the storehouse of beliefs we receive from our society and share with our peers. It is not that we never defer to anyone else’s testimony or authority, it is that when we do so, as so often we do, we should do so conscientiously. Our selves are constituted by our socially induced habits and by our friends, peers, families, and possessions (James 1981, vol. 1, pp. 109, 279–81). So James’s philosophy is one of sociality as much as of individuality (James 1976, p. 99). Emerson, too, for all his talk about self-reliance, acknowledges and emphasizes the degree to which we rely on and are formed by our social and historical contexts. He recognizes that who we are is a product of gifts that we have received from others. In Conduct of Life, he notes that individuality requires and exists in dynamic tension with one’s sociality: “I must have children, I must have events, I must have a social state and history, or my thinking and speaking want body or basis” (Emerson 1983, p. 1029). In “Experience,” he writes, “When I receive a new gift, I do not macerate my body to make the account square, for if I should die, I could not make the account square. The benefit overran the merit the first day, and has overran the merit ever since” (Emerson 1983, p. 491). In “American Scholar,” Emerson counts the past as one of the great influences on the mind of the scholar, and by scholar, he means not an exclusive or academic office, but “Man thinking,” and this is broad vocation to be sure: “Is not, indeed, every man a student?” (Emerson 1983, p. 54). Emerson recognizes the way that literature, art, institutions, and books shape our intellect and its virtues (Emerson 1983, p. 56).7 In “American Scholar,” Emerson’s self-reliant impulses are in full force. He cautions repeatedly against accepting the influence of the past in place of one’s own experience and judgment. But even in doing so, he recognizes the “indispensable” role of the institutions of education and socialization, like colleges, which “gather from far every ray of various genius to their hospitable halls, and, by the concentrated fires, set the hearts of their youth on flame” (Emerson 1983, p. 59). 7 See also the “Culture” chapter in Conduct of Life (Emerson 1983, pp. 1013–34). Religions 2017, 8, 164 6 of 16 Self-reliant individuals are not self-created or independent of influence or shaping. They take what they have been given, sift through it to discern what they can endorse and what not, and make their own course through life. Both James’s and Emerson’s construals of self-reliance are aptly described in George Kateb’s terms: one is “not the author but the editor of one’s self and one’s life” (Kateb 2011, p. 10). One does not generate oneself from scratch, but revises the self that one has received from nature and society. Self-reliance, properly understood, then is as central to James’s understanding of the individual as it is for Emerson. Moreover, James like Emerson regards individuality as involving receptive attention. We see this in James’s essay, “On a Certain Blindness in Human Beings.” The topic of this text is how extremely difficult it is to understand others’ values and perspective when they differ from our own. James recognizes that to be able to do so is crucial for the sort of pluralism that he endorses. James’s pluralistic ideal does not settle merely for forbearance of the disliked habits of others, but calls for an active appreciation and even celebration of difference. However, we face considerable obstacles to achieving this sort of regard for others. Our own particular profession and station in life limits our cares. We give attention to those things that typically surround us, and especially those things that facilitate the achievement of our goals (James 1983, pp. 138, 141). Teachers attend to their students, their colleagues, the educational institutions in which they work, pedagogy, and curriculum. They don’t have time to understand the particular values that guide medicine, or the specific workings of hospitals and clinics. Similar considerations apply to regional, ethnic, racial, and religious identities and practices. Given these limitations, the predictable and all-too-frequent outcome is that we find the values of others distasteful, incomprehensible, and threatening. James sees these conditions as dangerous for democracy (James 1983, p. 4). In addition to the bad consequences for democracy of our egoistic perspective, to regard others by our own standards is to misapprehend their value. As such, this attitude is bad in itself. James’s response to these limitations of our capacity to appreciate others is a strong endorsement of what we have been calling receptive attention. To attend to the inner life of others is to be open to “the mystic sense of hidden meaning” (James 1983, p. 139). By attending receptively, we can encounter others’ non-instrumental value in sudden episodes of insight, in a way that undoes our consciousness like the mystics’ vision of God did for them: “The vast world of inner life beyond us . . . illuminate[s] our mind. Then the whole scheme of our customary values gets confounded, then our self is riven and its narrow interests fly to pieces, then a new centre and a new perspective must be found.” This can be so pronounced that James can call it “an epoch” in the subject’s “history” (James 1983, pp. 138–39). Walt Whitman (another Emerson protégé), for James, preeminently evidences this sort of sensibility. James quotes Whitman’s poem, “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” at length, in which Whitman describes observing, with a religious sensibility of openness and appreciation, people commuting to and from work (James 1983, pp. 142–43). But such a capacity must be cultivated, it does not come to us naturally, and indeed, our involvement in practical affairs stands in permanent opposition to such sensitivity. James thinks that we can cultivate an appreciation for receptivity to the value of the human other through nature mysticism, and he quotes a number of nature mystics to elucidate this idea, including Emerson (from Nature). James writes, The occasion and the experience, then, are nothing. It all depends on the capacity of the soul to be grasped, to have its life-currents absorbed by what is given. “Crossing a bare commons,” says Emerson, “in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration. I am glad to the brink of fear.” (James 1983, p. 146) It is not just Emerson’s receptivity toward the hidden value in ordinary situations that James appreciates, but also his understanding of non-instrumental apprehensions of human value. James cites approvingly Emerson’s thoughts about falling in love, an especially disruptive way to encounter another person: Religions 2017, 8, 164 7 of 16 This higher vision of an inner significance in what, until then, we had realized only in the dead external way, often comes over a person suddenly; and when it does so, it makes an epoch in his history. As Emerson says, there is a depth in those moments that constrains us to ascribe more reality to them than to all other experiences. The passion of love will shake one like an explosion, or some act will awaken a remorseful compunction that hangs like a cloud over one’s later day. (James 1983, p. 139) James describes the central message of “On a Certain Blindness” as the “democratic respect for the sacredness of individuality” (James 1983, p. 4), and he views the essay as an expression of his most fundamental commitments. In a letter, he calls it, “the perception on which my whole individualistic philosophy is based” (James 1992, vol. 8, pp. 521–22). So in James’s mind, receptive attention is a core tenet of both Emerson’s outlook and his own. Vocation too is an essential aspect of individuality for both. James writes, in “On a Certain Blindness,” “Each of us has some specialized vocation of his own” (James 1983, p. 138). The ideals that guide us are ones for which we must risk and sacrifice as we give them expression in our lives: “Although a man always risks much when he breaks away from established rules and strives to realize a larger ideal whole than they permit, yet the philosopher must allow that it is at all times open to any one to make the experiment, provided he fear not to stake his life and character upon the throw” (James 1979, p. 156). When it comes to religious practices, one must find one’s own distinctive calling. We should “build out our religion in the way most congruous with our personal susceptibilities” (James 1985, pp. 404–5). “Let us be saints,” he says: “Each of us must discover for himself the kind of religion and the amount of saintship which best comports with what he believes to be his powers and feels to be his truest mission and vocation” (James 1985, p. 299). Individuality is a varied concept. We cannot assume that any two figures who bandy the word about mean the same thing. But, as should now be obvious, when James and Emerson tout the term, they have something strikingly similar in mind. For both of them, individuality centrally involves a notion of self-reliance, conditioned by our relationality; sensitive appreciation of others and the world around us; and a commitment to one’s own vocation. But the similarities extend further, and we can see this when we consider the political and religious implications of the individuality that these figures endorse. 3. The Politics of Individuality Because of their individualism, interpreters have accused Emerson and James of being apolitical or insufficiently political. Cornel West charges James with “political impotence” for being too focused on the “personal and existential,” and George R. Garrison and Edward H. Madden say that James’s “individualism kept him from acting in concert with others through effective organizations to bring to bear cumulative pressure” on social ills (West 1989, p. 60; Garrison and Madden 1977, p. 211).8 Many have regarded Emerson in this same light. Furthermore, critics have charged that the religiosity of both Emerson and James is not political in any constructive way. Kateb, for example, finds in Emerson’s religiosity—his belief that cosmic divinity underlies particulars—a “maddening” retreat from full self-reliance, which would not cede any authority from the human to the metaphysical (Kateb 2002, p. 81). Grace Jantzen and Charles Taylor both accuse James’s individualistic construal of religion of abandoning the public realm of politics for subjective interiority (Jantzen 1989, p. 301; Jantzen 1995, p. 346; Taylor 2002, pp. 80, 96). To be sure, much of what makes individualism significant for both Emerson and James involves values that are not explicitly and obviously political. Both Emerson and James, for example, think that perceiving and acting in a truthful way, a way devoid of error and illusion, is a value in its own 8 A number of studies have emerged in the past few decades to correct this understanding of James’s philosophy. See for example, (Albrecht 2012; Bush 2017; Coon 1996; Cotkin 1994; Koopman 2005; Miller 1997). Religions 2017, 8, 164 8 of 16 right, whatever its political implications. Both think that this sort of truthfulness requires trust in one’s own experience as opposed to subordinating oneself to history, community, or institutions. This sort of perception involves both self-reliance and receptive openness. Both think that one’s vocation can involve values that are not reducible to politics: aesthetics, friendship, family, profession, and so on. Both care about the way that religion confers moral and existential significance on the world and human life therein. Without intending to detract from the non-political import of individuality in James and Emerson, my goal here is to show some common ways in which their individualism is political and the way in which religion is bound up in the politics of individuality. Here are the common points between James’s political individualism and Emerson’s (as James understands it): first, both think of individualism as involving a responsibility not to conform to evil social, political, and economic arrangements; second, both think of it as involving an ethics of exemplarity; and third, both think of individualism as requiring political arrangements that are non-dominating. One contemporary influential strand of Emerson scholarship emphasizes as preeminent Emerson’s commitment to non-conformity. In The Inner Ocean, Kateb analyzes Emersonian individuality as coming in positive, negative, and impersonal forms (Kateb 1992). The negative form is to avoid complicity with evil, especially evil institutions and social relationships. One attends to the various practices in which one is embedded and to the results of the practices. If the results involve the unjust infliction of harm, then one disembeds oneself from the practices (Kateb 1992, p. 88). The positive aspect of individuality is, in words that James would appreciate, to take responsibility for oneself—one’s self must become a project, one must become the architect of one’s soul. One’s dignity resides in being, to some important degree, a person of one’s own creating, making, choosing, rather than in being merely a creature or a socially manufactured, conditioned, manipulated thing: half-animal and half-mechanical and therefore wholly socialized. Living a life is not like going through motions. (Kateb 1992, p. 90) The impersonal aspect involves transcendent, ecstatic episodes of receptivity to beauty in others and in the natural world (Kateb 1992, pp. 90–93). Of these three aspects of individuality, the one most relevant to democratic political theory, for Kateb, is the first, that of non-complicity. This makes Kateb’s Emerson squeamish about political action. Kateb acknowledges Emerson’s active involvement in the abolition movement, so in extreme cases, participation in collective action is necessary, but in general, participating in politics or social movements saps democratic individuality by fostering conformity and subordination (Kateb 1992, pp. 100–5; Kateb 2002, chp. 6). Jack Turner’s account of democratic individuality, like Kateb’s, looks at Emerson, but Turner extends and complicates the conversation in important ways by including Frederick Douglass, Ralph Ellison, and James Baldwin. These latter three, as African Americans, speak from a perspective that Emerson and James do not: “the experience of trying to achieve [democratic individuality] in the face of systematic subjugation” (Turner 2012, p. 9). Like Kateb, Turner finds the core element of democratic individuality in Emerson to be non-complicity. Alongside that is self-assertion, which corresponds closely to what Kateb calls the positive aspect of individuality. However, Turner works to formulate a conception of individuality that is not in tension with collective political action. He finds this in Douglass’s, Ellison’s, and Baldwin’s promotion of a sense of responsibility toward one’s fellow citizens, especially those who are excluded and marginalized. While Emerson construes individuality in terms of nonexploitation—the injunction not to be complicit in social evil—Douglass, Ellison, and Baldwin give us the “democratic egalitarian obligation,” the obligation “to contribute to the common effort to ensure that all democratic citizens have self-reliance’s material prerequisites” (Turner 2012, p. 45). Alex Zakaras’s study on Emersonian individualism has its particular concern with the prospects for democratic citizenship in large-scale societies, where people tend to feel ineffective, given the passivity of the average voter in light of their remoteness from the centers of political power, which are controlled by big parties, big money, and big media corporations. Zakaras takes as the primary problem confronting citizenship, then, to be docility. People do not exercise responsibility for the Religions 2017, 8, 164 9 of 16 political arrangements of their society, often because they feel they have no means or opportunity to do so. Zakaras proposes the development of individuality as a response to docility. Like Kateb and Turner, Zakaras sees non-complicity as a defining feature of Emersonian individuality. However, he, like Turner, is not satisfied with Kateb’s discomfort with collective political action. For Zakaras, what generates an obligation to engage in social and political reform is the fact that the extent of our complicity is much greater than Kateb indicates, and so there is no space to which we can withdraw in order to keep our hands clean. We are situated in various harmful and unjust economic and political processes, involving the natural environment, immigrants, warfare, substandard education policies, global poverty, and so on. The obligation not to be complicit in social evil requires not withdrawal, but active participation in efforts to reform the various processes and institutions in which we participate (Zakaras 2009, pp. 212–15). Certainly James sees non-complicity as central to Emersonian individuality. Emerson is at his “hottest” in his “non-conformist persuasion” (James 1982, p. 111). We have already seen James’s endorsement of the first-hand life, one that is not given over to routines uncritically received. We have seen that James, using the same terminology as Emerson, rejects second-hand living and performing routines uncritically. For James as for Emerson, the political dimension of this is to remove oneself from structures of oppression. James lauds those with the moral fiber to devote themselves to “unpopular causes,” the “revolutionary or reformatory ticket,” to “set free [their] generation” (James 1985, p. 293). In a letter, James pits the individual against the “machine” and warns of acquiescence to evil: “The individual, as soon as he realizes that the machine will be irresistible, acquiesces silently, instead of making an impotent row . . . We defend our rotten system. Acquiescence becomes active partnership.”9 In another letter, he warns, “The bigger the unit you deal with, the hollower, the more brutal, the more mendacious is the life displayed. So I am against all big organizations as such, national ones first and foremost, against all big successes and big results” (James 1992, vol. 8, p. 546). James is not against institutions altogether; rather, the test of a good institution is that it “can be described in individualistic terms,” that is, it permits those embedded in the institution to distinguish their own aims from those of the institution and to evaluate critically the operations and ends of the institution (James 1975, p. 285). The problem, though, with stopping at non-complicity in discussing Emerson’s politics, as Kateb, Turner, and Zakaras effectively do, is that doing so indicates that Emersonian individualists are principally concerned with their own individuality. Emerson and James both have a commitment not just to their particular individuality, but to the cultivation of a culture of individuality. A commitment to individuality is not merely a commitment to one’s own individuality, rather it is a commitment to doing one’s best to foster the individuality of one’s fellow citizens as well. Self-reliance is not egotism, it is not preoccupation with one’s own life’s course and one’s own experiences to the exclusion of others’. “The pest of society is egotists,” Emerson says in The Conduct of Life. “The man runs round a ring formed by his own talent, falls into an admiration of it, and loses relation to the world” (Emerson 1983, pp. 1016–17). Even the necessary disciplines of solitude that self-reliance involve are for the sake of the public. “Solitude takes off the pressure of present importunities that more catholic and humane relations may appear. The saint and poet seek privacy to ends the most public and universal: and it is the secret of culture, to interest the man more in his public, than in his private quality” (Emerson 1983, p. 1029). James and Emerson both have conceptions of vocation according to which it is the responsibility of citizens to work, in keeping with their distinctive traits and skills, toward the achievement of a public culture of individuality. Such a culture requires the educational, social, and intellectual conditions in which the populace at large has the opportunity and motivation to pursue a specific direction for their own lives. How do we account for this other-concerned ethics of individuality? Jeffrey Stout has recently provided an alternative reading of Emerson’s politics to Kateb, Turner, and Zakaras. In Stout’s reading, 9 Quoted in (Coon 1996, p. 91). Religions 2017, 8, 164 10 of 16 Emerson’s ethics and politics centrally have to do with exemplification. In this account, Emersonian individuality in its perfectionist dimensions is a call to achieve excellence in the pursuit of one’s ideals and to do so not just for one’s own sake, but for the sake of exemplifying the ideals. “To be excellent is to stand for something. It is also to do so before others” (Stout 2014, p. 9). It is not enough to avow allegiance to ideals, to give them lip service. One must express them in one’s conduct and character. One’s life should demonstrate what it is to have one’s actions, emotions, and attention guided by the ideal so that others can observe the ideal concretely and specifically. The point of exemplification, in addition to living for the sake of ideals that are appropriately taken to be ends in themselves, is to foster an appreciation of the ideals in particular and of excellence in general amongst one’s peers. We see this especially in Emerson’s Representative Men. Influential geniuses have their talents and achievements on exhibit, not so that we would worship them, as is the case for Thomas Carlyle in On Heroes, Hero-Worship & the Heroic in History, but so that their qualities would spread among the population (Carlyle 1993). The term “representative” speaks of exemplification. What the great man represents is some “idea,” or ideal. The value to society of the representative man is the ideal that the man represents (unfortunately, Carlyle, Emerson, and James cannot manage to conceive of women as great in the relevant sense; I retain the term “man” in order not to gloss over their sexism) (Emerson 1983, p. 623). Great men are to “serve us” and “enrich us,” to “succor our genius” (Emerson 1983, pp. 618, 620, 621, 627). This exemplification is moral, but insofar as the ideals are directly political or have political ramification, it is simultaneously political. And a great number of our ideals, insofar as they concern interpersonal relationships and interactions and such things as justice and suffering, will indeed have political ramifications. Indeed, in her treatment of Emerson’s ethics, Emily Dumler-Winckler shows that John Brown, in his efforts to end slavery, serves as one of Emerson’s most highly regarded exemplars (Dumler-Winckler 2017, pp. 529–34). The personal and the political are typically interwoven with each other in complicated ways, such that one cannot be fully extricated from the other. The ethics of non-complicity and of exemplification are not unrelated. An ideal that is not widely shared will likely be controversial or obnoxious to one’s peers. Living in accordance with such an ideal will require non-conformity and a willingness to undergo the associated costs of rejection, hostility, and misunderstanding. However, standing for an ideal can straightforwardly impel one into action, personal or collective, in ways that contrast with an ethic that is pre-eminently concerned with non-complicity with evil. One is not merely trying to keep one’s hands clean, one is putting them to work in service of the goods to which one is pledged, trying to foster the implementation of these goods in one’s society. One hopes to influence others to recognize the value of the ideal in question and one hopes that such recognition will provoke others toward goodness and further them in their pursuit of their own ideals. In keeping with Stout’s reading, James indicates that he sees exemplarity as essential to Emerson’s ethics and politics. James emphasizes the Emersonian theme of the ineluctable publicity of our moral commitments. “Character infallibly proclaims itself,” James writes, and then quotes Emerson, “[Your thoughts] will flow out of your actions, your manners, and your face . . . Don’t say things. What you are stands over you the while, and thunders so that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary” (James 1982, p. 113). And the point to the public expression of our character is to have an effect on others, just as is the case with the ethics of exemplarity. From “Spiritual Laws,” James quotes Emerson: “Never a magnanimity fell to the ground, but there is some heart to greet and accept it” (James 1982, p. 113). When one lives in accordance with one’s ideals, “they publish themselves to the universe” (James 1982, p. 113). In a letter in 1905, James describes “Emersonianism” as the duty to “declare your intuitions, though no other man share them,” showing both the public dimension of one’s internal commitments and the willingness to be non-conformist if necessary.10 In a 1906 10 Quoted in (Perry 1935, vol. 2, p. 399). Religions 2017, 8, 164 11 of 16 speech at Stanford University, James applied this principle to political matters. Speaking of those in the “anti-war party,” James counsels that they begin at all events by speaking out as individuals, whatever truth, however unpopular, is in you. As Emerson says, “He who will always speak the truth will not fail to find himself in sufficiently dramatic situations,” and I may add, warlike situations [that is, involving contestation and conflict, not necessarily physical violence]. The wars of the future must be waged inside of every country, between the destructive and constructive ideals and forces.”11. (James 1982, p. 252) James’s call here to speak and act on behalf of one’s ideals, in this case, the anti-militarism ideal, goes beyond mere non-complicity, it is a call to enter into a discursive contest between proponents of military violence and imperialism and those opposed, attempting to construct non-violent ways to resolve the pugnacious impulse that James sees as ineliminable from human nature. And does James himself embrace the ethics of exemplarity he sees in Emerson? We see that he does most clearly in his sole extended discussion of morality, which occurs in his essay, “Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” and also in his account of “great men” in “Great Men and Their Environment.” One of James’s fundamental political commitments is to meliorism, the improvement of society. “Great Men and Their Environment” and “Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life” make it clear that one primary means by which societies are improved, that is to say, that injustice and preventable suffering are reduced, is through the influence of exemplars. In “Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life,” James supplies a moral theory according to which moral values arise from the demands that people make of one another. These demands generate obligations, prima facie, but they must undergo adjudication with competing demands in order for them to be binding, all things considered. The goal of adjudication should always be to honor as many competing demands as possible.12 However, in addition to processes of adjudication, James calls for experimentation, and this experimentation just is a form of exemplification. See everywhere the struggle and the squeeze; and everlastingly the problem how to make them less. The anarchists, nihilists, and free-lovers; the free-silverites, socialists, and single-tax men; the free-traders and civil-service reformers; the prohibitionists and anti-vivisectionists; the radical darwinians with their idea of the suppression of the weak—these and all the conservative sentiments of society arrayed against them, are simply deciding through actual experiment by what sort of conduct the maximum amount of good can be gained and kept in this world. These experiments are to be judged, not a priori, but by actually finding, after the fact of their making, how much more outcry or how much appeasement comes about. What closet-solutions can possibly anticipate the result of trials made on such a scale? Or what can any superficial theorist’s judgment be worth, in a world where every one of hundreds of ideals has its special champion already provided in the shape of some genius expressly born to feel it, and to fight to death in its behalf? The pure philosopher can only follow the windings of the spectacle, confident that the line of least resistance will always be towards the richer and the more inclusive arrangement, and that by one tack after another some approach to the kingdom of heaven is incessantly made. (James 1979, pp. 156–57) In speaking of the “special champion” or “genius” of particular ideals, James is speaking of individuals and groups who commit to live in accordance to their ideal, and thus testify, in their conduct before the watching world, as to the worthiness (or lack thereof) of the ideal by the results 11 Quoted in (Richardson 2006, p. 474). 12 For a fuller discussion of the ethical theory in “Moral Philosopher and Moral Life,” see (Bush 2017, chps. 3–4). Religions 2017, 8, 164 12 of 16 that their lives achieve. Moral reasoning in the abstract does not make for a convincing moral system, only experimentation and observation do. And these experiments are not the preserve of the saint or moral elite, but for anyone willing to sacrifice for the sake of their ideal: “It is at all times open to any one to make the experiment, provided he fear not to stake his life and character upon the throw” (James 1979, p. 157). As for James’s “Great Men and Their Environment,” this essay shares the perspective of Emerson’s Representative Men. Great men bring about social change through a dynamic relationship between the leader ’s qualities and the society’s receptivity to those qualities. The genius has “peculiar gifts” and the “power of initiative and origination.” The “social environment” adopts the genius and his gifts (James 1979, p. 174). Though James’s examples of great men are elite figures, including Emerson, he recognizes that greatness is the proper preserve of the “Joneses and the Smiths” too (James 1979, p. 164). The point of encountering others’ greatness is that “each of us may best fortify and inspire what creative energy may lie in his own soul” (James 1979, p. 194). James’s hope is that “many geniuses” would come together “in rapid succession”: “Blow must follow blow so fast that no cooling can occur in the intervals. Then the mass of the nation glows incandescent” (James 1979, pp. 181–82). Here we see the rhetoric of exemplarity quite directly, in distinction from non-complicity. Finally, James and Emerson understand their individuality to involve a commitment to non-domination, that is, to contest societal and institutional arrangements that grant any party to have the capacity to exercise inappropriate control over another party, and to support arrangements that allow for people to exercise their input into the circumstances that determine their lives. James expresses this sentiment most succinctly in his Robert Gould Shaw Oration, a speech he gave in 1897 commemorating the commander of a regiment of African American soldiers in the Civil War. There James says, “Our nation has been founded in what we may call our American religion, baptized and reared in the faith that a man requires no master to take care of him, and that common people can work out their salvation well enough together if left free to try” (James 1982, p. 66). James’s view that the individual takes priority over the institution (“good systems can always be described in individualistic terms,” (James 1975, p. 285)) finds expression in the Oration: “Democracy is still upon its trial. The civic genius of our people is its only bulwark, and neither laws nor monuments, neither battleships nor public libraries, nor great newspapers nor booming stocks; neither mechanical invention nor political adroitness, nor churches nor universities nor civil-service examinations can save us from degeneration if the inner mystery be lost” (James 1982, p. 74). Democracy is a way of life for the common person, not principally a procedure for electing representatives. In James’s view, Emerson shares this commitment to non-domination. In his centenary speech, James quotes a passage from Emerson’s journals in which Emerson is discussing his contempt for the character and personality of abolitionists, while supporting their role in pursuing reform. James updates Emerson’s reflections to apply them to an issue that exercised him, American imperialism in the Philippines. [Emerson] might easily have found himself saying of some present-day agitator against our Philippine conquest what he said of this or that reformer of his own time. He might have called him, as a private person, a tedious bore and canter. But he would infallibly have added what he then added: “It is strange and horrible to say this, . . . for I feel that under him and his partiality and exclusiveness is the earth and the sea and all that in them is, and the axis around which the universe revolves passes through his body where he stands. (James 1982, p. 115) For James, both slavery and the US military occupation of the Philippines are violations of the principle of non-domination. Slavery and imperialism are exercises of arbitrary control by one party Religions 2017, 8, 164 13 of 16 over another.13 This violates individualism, which would see all individuals exercising maximal control over their own lives. The implication of Emerson’s individualism, in James’s estimation, is that the person contesting such domination as slavery and imperialism has tapped into the very moral core of the universe. 4. Politics and Religion Religion, for both Emerson and James, is thoroughly wrapped up in individuality and its relation to politics. On the question of religion, James departs clearly and consciously from Emerson. James understands Emerson’s religion as involving a divine, transcendent cosmic soul, a metaphysical monism that stands in some tension with the pluralistic and particularist moments in Emerson’s corpus. James’s own commitments are firmly on the pluralistic side. And his marginalia in Emerson’s writings regard as “against my philosophy” passages in which Emerson speaks of topics that James notated as “‘monism,’ ‘abstract unity,’ ‘the ONE,’ and ‘transcendental’” (Carpenter 1939, p. 42). But as we have already seen, James is keen to insist that Emerson’s philosophy does count as religious, even if it is not theistic. James refers to Emerson as “once born” (James 1982, p. 218), James’s label for those who do not need a radical religious re-orientation or conversion to bring them into a good relation with the universe, because they already stand in such a good relation from the start. James is himself “twice born,” he required intervention from above to reconcile him to the world. And this might explain in part why when it comes to James’s own religious commitments, he is drawn to what he calls “piecemeal supernaturalism,” in which there is a God of the sort that can exert causal influence in particular circumstances (in response to prayer, for example) (James 1985, pp. 409–10). This God, however, need not be the omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent being of traditional Christian dogma, just so long as it is “both other and larger than our conscious selves . . . It need not be infinite, it need not be solitary. It might conceivably even be only a larger and more godlike self, of which the present self would then be but the mutilated expression, and the universe might conceivably be a collection of such selves, of different degrees of inclusiveness, with no absolute unity realized in it at all” (James 1985, p. 413). James’s pluralist sensibilities lead him to a sort of theism that rejects Emerson’s absolute over-soul. Nevertheless, both thinkers find great importance in the idea that there is some sort of transcendent principle or entity that exceeds the visible world and gives it existential and moral significance. Both agree that religion is experiential. For Emerson, the divine is something that we intuit in attending properly to our self and to our environment. For James, all manner—a great variety—of sorts of religious experiences transpire. But both see the religious subject as one that is more fundamentally an experiencer and an agent than a believer or an obeyer. Just as is the case for their individualism more generally, which holds that the apprehension of truth is better achieved through self-reliance than through deference to hierarchy or history, so this is also true for religion. This is a matter that should not be reduced to politics. However, neither should we ignore the political dimensions of the subordination of the religious institution and tradition to the individual. Despite the pronouncements of those who criticize his philosophy of religion, James’s religious individuality is not apolitical.14 He expounds the political implications of his religious individuality explicitly in Varieties of Religious Experience. One of these is the way that the religious subject relates to the religious hierarchy (politics here is relevant in the broad sense of power relations that inhere in whatever sort of institution, not merely the institutions of the state). James warns of “two spirits of 13 Emerson speaks of slavery in terms of domination in his “Address on Emancipation in the British West Indies” (1844): “We sometimes say, the planter does not want slaves, he only wants the immunities and the luxuries which the slaves yield him; give him money, give him a machine that will yield him as much money as the slaves, and he will thankfully let them go. He has no love of slavery, he wants luxury, and he will pay even this price of crime and danger for it. But I think experience does not warrant this favorable distinction, but shows the existence, beside the covetousness, of a bitterer element, the love of power, the voluptuousness of holding a human being in his absolute control” (Emerson 1995, p. 17). 14 I make the fuller case for the politics of James’s religious individualism in (Bush 2017). Religions 2017, 8, 164 14 of 16 dominion,” the spirit of dogmatic dominion, which is the propensity of religious officials to enforce adherence to a particular system of belief, and the spirit of corporate dominion, the propensity of religious officials to exercise power to control the behavior of adherents (James 1985, p. 271). A “genuine first-hand religious experience” and its “spontaneous religious spirit” counteracts and opposes these tendencies. James’s religious individualism is so far from being apolitical, it is explicitly a political contestation of institutional power. Religion for James is political in the more conventional, government-centric sense as well. In his view, religion and its experiences supply a specific sort of psychological satisfaction to practitioners that allows them to cope with personal loss in the pursuit of moral and political ideals (James 1985, pp. 45–49; 1979, pp. 159–61). Someone whose experiential religion supplies such motivational resources is not afraid to sacrifice for the sake of political ideals: Think of the strength which personal indifference to poverty would give us if we were devoted to unpopular causes. We need no longer hold our tongues or fear to vote the revolutionary or reformatory ticket. Our stocks might fall, our hopes of promotion vanish, our salaries stop, our club doors close in our faces; yet, while we lived, we would imperturbably bear witness to the spirit, and our example would help to set free our generation. (James 1985, p. 293) James then must think that Emerson’s religious individuality is also political. Religion for Emerson, in James’s account, is to perceive at first hand the cosmic, universal moral structure of the universe in the particulars that surround one. Because James thinks of first-hand religiosity as a political matter, in prioritizing the individual over the institution, we must understand that connection to exist in his statements about Emerson’s religious individualism, as when he says, “The present man is the aboriginal reality, the Institution is derivative, and the past man is irrelevant and obliterate for present issues” (James 1982, p. 112). We know from Varieties that for James, this first-hand religiosity, to view oneself and not one’s institution as the primary locus of authority, is a matter that is simultaneously epistemic, axiological, aesthetic, and political. Though James is not a transcendentalist in the sense that Emerson is, he would not share Kateb’s worry that Emerson’s embrace of a universal, divine mind is a cession of authority from the individual, because Emerson’s divine mind is not something other than the individual, it inhabits the individual, and the structure of the moral universe is shared by the individual. The individual is continuous with the cosmos, not set over and against it: James writes about Emerson’s vision, “The great Cosmic Intellect terminates and houses itself in moral men and passing hours. Each of us is an angle of its eternal vision, and the only way to be true to our Maker is to be loyal to ourselves” (James 1982, p. 111). Apprehending the transcendent moral law is apprehending one’s true nature, not abdicating one’s authority. James’s reflections on Emerson, though brief, nevertheless supply a significant interpretation of the core views of Emerson’s philosophy from someone remarkably well acquainted with Emerson’s writings and person. Though my task here has not been to make an extensive case that James’s interpretation is faithful to an exposition of Emerson’s ideas across his corpus, I have at least hinted along the way that in my view, James’s assessment of Emerson’s principles do in fact capture Emerson’s perspective accurately. Despite their considerable differences in temperament and rhetorical style, it is striking to see how closely James’s understanding of individualism resembles Emerson’s. Both see self-reliant individuals not as ones who abnegate politics for the sake of their private religiosity or who rest content with the effort to keep their hands untainted, but as committed to discerning a way, through their unique vocation, to foster a society-wide democratic culture, a suitable environment for the citizenry at large to achieve their own individuality. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. Religions 2017, 8, 164 15 of 16 References Albrecht, James M. 2012. Reconstructing Individualism: A Pragmatic Tradition from Emerson to Ellison. New York: Fordham University Press. Bush, Stephen S. 2015. Religion against Domination: William James’s Individualism. Journal of the American Academy of Religion 83: 750–79. [CrossRef] Bush, Stephen S. 2017. William James on Democratic Individuality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carlyle, Thomas. 1993. On Heroes, Hero-Worship & the Heroic in History. Berkeley: University of California Press. Carpenter, Frederic I. 1929. Points of Comparison between Emerson and William James. New England Quarterly 2: 458–74. [CrossRef] Carpenter, Frederic I. 1939. William James and Emerson. American Literature 11: 39–57. [CrossRef] Cavell, Stanley. 1990. Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome: The Constitution of Emersonian Perfectionism. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Coon, Deborah T. 1996. ‘One Moment in the World’s Salvation’: Anarchism and the Radicalization of William James. Journal of American History 83: 70–99. [CrossRef] Cotkin, George. 1994. William James, Public Philosopher. Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Dumler-Winckler, Emily J. 2017. The Virtue of Emerson’s Imitation of Christ: From William Ellery Channing to John Brown. Journal of Religious Ethics 45: 510–38. [CrossRef] Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1983. Essays and Lectures. New York: Literary Classics of the United States. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1995. Emerson’s Antislavery Writings. Edited by Len Gougeon and Joel Myerson. New Haven: Yale University Press. Friesner, Nicholas. 2017. ‘From a Calmer Height of Love and Wisdom’: Emerson, Religious Sentiment, and Environmental Intimacy. Ph.D. dissertation, Brown University, Providence, RI, USA. Garrison, George R., and Edward H. Madden. 1977. William James—Warts and All. American Quarterly 29: 207–21. [CrossRef] James, William. 1975. Pragmatism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1976. Essays in Radical Empiricism. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1979. The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy. Edited by Frederick Burkhardt, Fredson Bowers and Ignas K. Skrupskelis. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1981. The Principles of Psychology. Edited by Fredson Bowers, Ignas K. Skrupskelis and Frederick H. Burkhardt. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 3 vols. James, William. 1982. Essays in Religion and Morality. Edited by Frederick Burkhardt, Fredson Bowers and Ignas K. Skrupskelis. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1983. Talks to Teachers on Psychology and to Students on Some of Life’s Ideals. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1985. The Varieties of Religious Experience. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. James, William. 1992. The Correspondence of William James. Edited by Ignas K. Skrupskelis and Elizabeth M. Berkeley. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 12 vols. Jantzen, Grace M. 1989. Mysticism and Experience. Religious Studies 25: 295–315. [CrossRef] Jantzen, Grace M. 1995. Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kateb, George. 1992. The Inner Ocean: Individualism and Democratic Culture. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Kateb, George. 2002. Emerson and Self-Reliance, new ed. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Kateb, George. 2011. Human Dignity. Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Koopman, Colin. 2005. William James and the Politics of Personal Freedom. Journal of Speculative Philosophy 19: 175–86. [CrossRef] McDermott, John J. 1982. Introduction. In Essays in Religion and Morality. Edited by Frederick Burkhardt, Fredson Bowers and Ignas K. Skrupskelis. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. McDermott, John J. 2007. The Drama of Possibility: Experience as Philosophy of Culture. Edited by Douglas R. Anderson. New York: Fordham University Press. Miller, Joshua. 1997. Democratic Temperament: The Legacy of William James. Lawrence: University of Kansas Press. Perry, Ralph Barton. 1935. The Thought and Character of William James, as Revealed in Unpublished Correspondence and Notes, Together with His Published Writings. Boston: Little, Brown and Company. http://dx.doi.org/10.1093/jaarel/lfv044 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/359243 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2920693 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2945475 http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/jore.12188 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2712360 http://dx.doi.org/10.1017/S0034412500019867 http://dx.doi.org/10.1353/jsp.2005.0011 Religions 2017, 8, 164 16 of 16 Richardson, Robert D. 2006. William James: In the Maelstrom of American Modernism: A Biography. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Slater, Michael R. 2009. William James on Ethics and Faith. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stafford, William T. 1953. Emerson and the James Family. American Literature 24: 433–61. [CrossRef] Stout, Jeffrey. 2014. The Transformation of Genius into Practical Power: A Reading of Emerson’s ‘Experience.’. American Journal of Theology & Philosophy 35: 3–24. Taylor, Charles. 2002. Varieties of Religion Today: William James Revisited. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Turner, Jack. 2012. Awakening to Race: Individualism and Social Consciousness in America. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. West, Cornel. 1989. The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Zakaras, Alex. 2009. Individuality and Mass Democracy: Mill, Emerson, and the Burdens of Citizenship. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2921509 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Emersonian Individuality, According to James James’s Individuality The Politics of Individuality Politics and Religion 
work_ljitbgwwujdvxo3r2wtnoektxq	----	Religions 2020, 11, 172; doi:10.3390/rel11040172 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Article The Saving Grace of America’s Green Jeremiad John Gatta Department of English, University of the South, Sewanee, TN 37375, USA; jogatta@sewanee.edu Received: 10 March 2020; Accepted: 2 April 2020; Published: 6 April 2020 Abstract: By the late seventeenth century, Puritan leaders in colonial America were bemoaning what they perceived to be the betrayal of New England’s godly “errand into the wilderness.” In election sermons they mourned the community’s backsliding from its global mission as a “city upon a hill.” Such doomsday rhetoric echoed the lamentations of decline intoned by ancient Hebrew prophets such as Jeremiah. Yet this “Jeremiad” discourse characteristically reached beyond effusions of doom and gloom toward prospects of renewal through a conversion of heart. It blended warnings of impending catastrophe with hope for recovery if the erring souls it addressed chose to repent. This twofold identity of the Puritan Jeremiad, gradually refashioned into the American Jeremiad, has long resonated within and beyond this nation’s literary culture. Featured in creative nonfiction, jeremiad expression surfaces in various forms. And with rise of the modern environmental movement, a prophetic subspecies identifiable as “Green Jeremiad” has lately emerged. The essay reflects on how, especially in an Anthropocene era, Green Jeremiads dramatize the crisis of spirit and faith that undergird challenges to earth’s geophysical health and survival. What saving graces might temper the chilling reminders of imminent peril composed by authors such as Rachel Carson, Bill McKibben, Barbara Kingsolver, and Elizabeth Kolbert? Keywords: jeremiad; anthropocene; saving grace; rhetoric; doomsday; spiritual crisis; climate change At the moment, it’s fair to say, we find ourselves painfully aware of our vulnerability in the face of multiple perils—threats not only to the geophysical environment we inhabit but also, on the national scene, to our trust in democratic processes and the rule of law. Yet ours is scarcely the only such crisis juncture in American history. From the nineteenth century, for example, we recall the nearly catastrophic fracturing this nation endured amid the horrors of civil conflict. And earlier still in our history, beyond the sturdy resolve projected by first waves of Anglo-European settlers, New England’s second- and third-generation Puritan leaders bemoaned the way their land of divine promise had already by 1650 begun to fall sinfully, disastrously short of fulfilling what minister John Danforth described in 1670 as its singular “errand into the wilderness.”1 Moreover, in election sermons and diverse polemical writings reflecting a literary subgenre known today as the “jeremiad,” New England’s would-be prophets felt bound to pour out their dismay at the land’s declension toward apostasy and to warn her citizens, in lurid terms, of the supreme woes toward which they were now headed in defiance of God’s wrath. Here was 1 Leading scholars of the Puritan Jeremiad commonly invoke Danforth’s election sermon, preached in 1670, as a landmark illustration of the genre. Such commentators have included Perry Miller, Sacvan Bercovitch, Emory Elliott (Elliott 1994), and David Mintner (Mintner 1974). Study of colonial New England’s version of this genre therefore rests on a firm foundation and has also, in the case of Bercovitch’s book, addressed subsequent adaptations and modifications of the Jeremiad tradition in America—aside from relevant, latter- day environmental writings, which have yet to be seriously evaluated in the light of that tradition. Religions 2020, 11, 172 2 of 12 vulnerability with a vengeance—even, so it seemed to them, divine vengeance. For America’s new city of the saints, once set upon a hill, had lapsed now into a faithless abyss unworthy of its biblical promise. All sorts of worldly woes—disease, drought, warfare, communal dissension and dissolution—had followed from her apostasy. Yet the essence of this crisis, as her leaders perceived it, was neither physical, nor social or political, but spiritual. Expanding on the earlier work of some eminent twentieth-century scholars such as Perry Miller (Miller 1953) and Sacvan Bercovitch (Bercovitch 1978), I argue here that the Puritan jeremiad, as circumstances refashioned it over time into a form definable in broader terms as the American jeremiad, has had an enduring and decisive influence on our culture to the present day. I would claim, in fact, that a latter-day subset of the American Jeremiad that I’ll call in oxymoronic zeal “the Green Jeremiad” has been flourishing in our own age of environmental peril and carries timely significance for the planet at large. Permutations of the Green Jeremiad have appeared thus far in multiple literary genres, in works by American authors as varied as Rachel Carson, Jonathan Schell, Ed Abbey, Gary Snyder, Bill McKibben, Barbara Kingsolver, Elizabeth Kolbert, and David Wallace- Wells. Artistry of the Green Jeremiad is likewise evident in a number of contemporary film documentaries associated with figures such as Al Gore (An Inconvenient Truth, 2006) and Leonardo di Caprio (Before the Flood, 2016). But I first want to consider how the strategic logic of all these works follows at least consistently—if not always causally or self-consciously—from the precedent set by New England’s Puritan rhetoricians. To be sure, the Puritan jeremiad conveyed God’s own plenty of doom and gloom. A note of alarm, of terror and disillusionment, suffuses even the titles attached to many New England compositions from this era, an age of anxiety leading toward the infamous Salem Witchcraft trials of 1692. I have in mind titles like the one that accompanied the Reverend Michael Wigglesworth’s versified account of “God’s Controversy with New-England, written in the time of the Great Drought, 1662,” or his widely read poem dramatizing “The Day of Doom.” The tenor of such writing sounds fairly chilling, even today; and as someone whose scholarly investigation once focused on the religious culture of colonial New England, I ended up reading more Puritan sermons, histories, and poetic lamentations than most persons would ever volunteer to absorb. Striving to interpret the adversities New England faced during a period of severe drought and waning piety, Michael Wigglesworth, in one of his verse expositions struggled to understand, for example, How is it, that Security, and Sloth, Amongst the best are Common to be found? That grosser sinns, in stead of Graces growth, Amongst the many more and more abound. ………… …………………… . . . . . . . . . . This O New-England hast thou got By riot, & excess: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Beware, O Sinful Land, beware; And do not think it strange That sorer judgments are at hand, Religions 2020, 11, 172 3 of 12 Unless thou quickly change. (Wigglesworth 1968, pp. 48–49, 53) Yet as some scholars pointed out decades ago, the essence of the Puritan “jeremiad”—and, by extension, the American jeremiad—was not purely denunciatory. The form should not, in other words, be seen as simply an ireful tirade, an outpouring of near-despair over the state of society and the world. For true Jeremiads looked to do more than expound their authors’ litany of woes because they reached beyond effusions of doom and gloom toward a prospect of renewal. Above all, they blended warnings of impending catastrophe with a faith-grounded hope for recovery if the erring souls they addressed chose to repent. If, that is, they accepted the imperative set before them to alter their current course. As Wigglesworth declared, “sorer judgments are at hand/Unless thou quickly change.” Thus the aspect of choice is crucial. In this regard the Jeremiad differs markedly from another literary subgenre—likewise drawn from Old and New Testament sources—we have come to know as apocalyptic. Apocalyptic, which prefigures an ultimate disclosure expected to be inevitable, rarely highlights the decisive, still-latent potential of human choice. Neither does the visionary future envisioned in most religious forms of apocalyptic resemble the earthy immediacy of the jeremiad, which situates its moral critique of some particular place and time within a discrete setting of sociopolitical conditions. It is worth recalling that even an ancient Hebrew prophet so forbidding as the original Jeremiah, back in the seventh century before Christ, seems to have understood his vocation of oracular speech as inspiring visions not only of divine destruction but also of potential restoration and redemption. For “if you turn back” from your evil ways, insists the prophet on behalf of his Lord, “I will take you back,” Oh Israel, and “you shall stand before me” (Jeremiah 15:19, NRSV version). In fact some of New England’s jeremiad prophets, including the Reverend Samuel Willard in his 1682 election sermon on “The Only Sure Way to Prevent Threatened Calamity,” took their homiletic text directly from Jeremiah. But what virtually all these jeremiads shared rhetorically was a ritual invocation of three elements: a Recollection of better times, a Recognition of the current state of declension, and an exhortation to Return to better faith and conduct. The first element called for a Recollection and affirmation of how promising things had once seemed for the Puritans’ original community of faith in the New World. “What affectionate care was there one of another,” recalled Samuel Danforth, during that idealized era of “our first and best times” which preceded “the loss of our first love.” Why, after all, had the fathers of New England pursued their holy “errand” overseas in the first place, daring to pass “over the vast ocean into this waste and howling wilderness?” (Danforth, in Plumstead 1968, pp. 65, 73). Then, in sounding the second theme, the jeremiad prophet typically pressed his hearers to acknowledge their apostasy with “full and free consent,” recognizing “that the hand of God is out against this people awful in tokens of wrath” (Willard, in Plumstead 1968, p. 97.) Yet in the sermon’s final, or “Uses” phase, the preacher moved toward assuring “this people” of God’s willingness to save them from future calamities if they swiftly repented to seek an amendment of life, a reformation of their faith and practices. Preachers like Samuel Willard painted a threatening picture of woes looming ahead but offered as well “a way to escape” (Willard, in Plumstead 1968, p. 98)—albeit a narrow way, requiring collective resolve. Thus the future in jeremiad perspective—though doubtful, frightening, mostly grim—remains open rather than predetermined. This hortatory, marginally hopeful characteristic of the American jeremiad may owe something to this nation’s original faith—a faith grounded not only in divine providence, but also—through the early federal-Jeffersonian period—in the resilience and creative resolve of its own citizenry. The saving grace of the jeremiad lies especially in its residue of hope, its insistence that with enough common resolve we may yet avoid perdition because it is now almost but not quite too late to change course. The blended warning of a peril to come with a call for immediate reformation, as reflected in the Puritan Jeremiad, has long continued to resonate through the course of American literary culture— as reflected, for example, in Harriet Beecher Stowe’s masterwork, Uncle Tom’s Cabin. And despite Stowe’s agonistic relation to her own Puritan-Calvinist heritage, she animated her narrative in that Religions 2020, 11, 172 4 of 12 novel with evangelical passion so as to inspire in her readers a zeal for conversion. For Stowe, this call to conversion of heart resounded in two dimensions at once—spiritually and inwardly, toward a new birth of Christian faith and repentance, as well as morally and socio-politically, toward solidarity with the abolitionist cause of immediate emancipation. The Jeremiad subtext of this imperative was unmistakable. For by 1852, when the novel first appeared, Stowe deemed the nation headed swiftly toward cataclysm, a horrific consequence of the original sin of slaveholding that rendered America vulnerable to divine judgment. A destructive upheaval lay ahead—unless the citizenry Stowe addressed moved with alacrity to welcome God’s new birth. So in her concluding, overtly homiletic chapter Stowe voiced a hope that such turn and rescue might still take place. Ever the evangelist, Stowe ends up intoning, before her congregation of all America, God’s promise of salvation if those she addresses awaken to their peril and respond now in faith: A day of grace is yet held out to us. Both North and South have been guilty before God; and the Christian church has a heavy account to answer. Not by combining together, to protect injustice and cruelty, and making a common capital of sin, is this Union to be saved—but by repentance, justice and mercy; for, not surer is the eternal law by which the millstone sinks in the ocean, than that stronger law, by which injustice and cruelty shall bring on nations the wrath of Almighty God! (Stowe 2018, p. 418) What circumstances, then, gave rise eventually to the green jeremiad? What purpose and special character did this subspecies come to assume? Celebrated writerly naturalists such as Henry Thoreau, John Muir, and Aldo Leopold all played a role in that story. But for the purpose at hand I propose leaping ahead now to 1962, recalling the seminal text of latter-day environmentalism that Rachel Carson published in that year: Silent Spring. The bad news Carson feels charged to convey in this prophetic work is signaled from the first, in its ominous yet provocative title. “Silent Spring” becomes an all-encompassing augury—at first tied to a single chapter—that the author’s agent, Marie Rodell, helped her settle on. And just past the title page, on the dedication page where Carson honors Alsatian polymath Albert Schweitzer, known among other things for championing the principle of “reverence for life,” readers presently encounter this withering prediction: “To Albert Schweitzer who said ‘Man has lost the capacity to foresee and to forestall. He will end by destroying the earth.’” Destroying the earth—scarcely by this time, a fancifully remote prospect, seventeen years after first use of thermonuclear weapons at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and a decade after first detonation of the hydrogen bomb. Neither would readers scanning the Contents page find much encouragement there. Among its headings are these foreboding tags: “Elixirs of Death,” “Needless Havoc,” and “The Rumblings of an Avalanche.” The book’s subsequent elaboration of these themes is replete with technical explanations, documentation, and manifold examples of the havoc wrought by the massive, indiscriminate application of chemical pesticides such as DDT. Left unchecked, such practices meant to target insect pests threatened not only to silence songbirds, but also to pollute plants, fish, domestic animals, soil, and water. So as commentator Lisa H. Sideris has observed, they threatened, in effect, to silence the “nonhuman world” itself (Sideris 2008, p. 137). Moreover, as these toxic insecticides are carried up the food chain, poisoning human diets and bodies, they also become toxic to human life and health. Chapter 12, “The Human Price” enlarges upon the unpredictable yet frightful “effects of lifetime exposure to chemical and physical agents that are not part of the biological experience of man” (Carson 1962, p. 188). And in two subsequent chapters, Carson describes the terrifying danger that toxic pesticides pose, by way of genetic influence on future generations—to say nothing of their potential, still undetermined today, as carcinogens. This last reminder carries a poignant irony, too, insofar as the author was struggling at the time to finish writing her book while herself battling breast cancer. A more encompassing cultural indictment emerges from the densely expository middle chapters of Silent Spring. Carson certainly acknowledged that humans had just cause, with the benefit of science, to intervene selectively in natural processes—especially, where feasible, through biological rather than chemical means. But for her the supposition that humans can and should fully control Religions 2020, 11, 172 5 of 12 nature was another matter—an arrogant, self-destructive fantasy. It led ultimately, she claimed, to the folly of waging war against the very natural order—with its “fabric of life”—that sustains us. A misguided conception of science, having “armed itself with the most modern and terrible weapons,” has thus ended up turning them, unwittingly, not only toward the annihilation of insects but “against the earth” (Carson 1962, p. 297). None of this, needless to say, comes as welcome news. So why read such a book? What saving grace, amid the dire warnings, could possibly render this volume not only palatable to Carson’s readers but a best-seller in its day? Part of the answer, I’d suggest, lies in the grace of Carson’s rhetorical artistry and logic. Consider, for example, that celebrated opening chapter, “A Fable for Tomorrow.” From the outset, it invites readers to contemplate the pastoral loveliness of a fictive town in America’s heartland where “all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings.” Such an all-American settlement with its “prosperous farms,” “countless birds” (Carson 1962, pp. 1–2), and colorful botanical life would strike readers as altogether familiar. Undoubtedly, too, it presents an appealing image, one that lingers in imagination throughout the book as an ideal against which to measure the immense loss facing us were that town’s mysterious blight to engulf the whole of actual America. An even clearer opening toward grace then confronts us from the start of the final chapter, titled “The Other Road.” Here Carson as jeremiad prophet calls for a collective conversion of heart that’s still possible but requires a decisive shift in attitude, practice, and public policy: We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost’s familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road—the one “less traveled by”—offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of our earth. The choice, after all, is ours to make. (Carson 1962, p. 277) That Carson here images the nation’s current path toward perdition as a superhighway strikes me as oddly, provocatively apt for its time. For in the early 1960s, America’s interstate highway system of limited-access roadways was still fairly new. Superhighways, which swiftly changed the character of communities they encompassed or bifurcated, including those near Carson’s home in Silver Spring, Maryland, seemed to be sprouting up everywhere. Promising unsurpassed speed, efficiency, and convenience of motorized transport, they represented for many a visible fulfillment of America’s postwar ambition to lead the world into a new golden era of industrial-technological progress. Few then considered what might be lost along the way—with respect to the fracturing of settled communities that superhighways often brought about, or the diminishment of felt connection with the land that motorists would henceforth be experiencing en route to their destination. But Carson wanted readers to recognize that the easier path of a quick-fix to pest control through saturation with pesticides posed more than a physical threat to the health of America’s citizenry. If no birds sang, that would likewise set at risk everyone’s spiritual welfare and aesthetic satisfaction with the world they inhabit. 2 Preserving these trans-material values, and the earth’s larger integrity, would require a novel, thoughtfully variable approach. Hence Carson’s concedes, amid the prevailing gloom of her final chapter, that change is still possible but insists that a humbler, less direct 2 Despite the significant progress made since 1962 in limiting the destructive use of pesticides, Carson’s specter of muted birdsong has proved to be prophetic. In addition to the mass extinction of species, a major, ominous decline in the overall population of North American birds has also taken place over the last forty years— leading to quieter if not silent springtime music in our own day. (Zimmer 2019) Carl Zimmer’s recent New York Times article, drawing on scientific reports published elsewhere, on how “Birds are Vanishing from North America,” discloses that some three billion fewer North American birds—a 29% decline—remain alive in 2019 as compared with 1970. Religions 2020, 11, 172 6 of 12 way toward future development than technocracy’s superhighway represents our “last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of our earth.” The publication of Silent Spring in 1962 was arguably a crucial event in the flourishing of what I have been calling the American green jeremiad. From that time to the present moment, a multitude of other writings have appeared to address grave environmental perils of one sort or another. Several of these works, particularly those expressed in essayistic form, consciously reflect and absorb the example set by Rachel Carson. Several, too, reach beyond warnings of our bodily peril to underscore the spiritual, psychological liabilities of environmental degradation. All of them, though, participate in the precedent set by Silent Spring and, more distantly, by those colonial-era New Englanders. What array of authorial personalities, literary genres, and subject choices might come to light, then, in an overview of green jeremiads that postdate Silent Spring? A few subspecies of that genre deserve mention before I attend more expansively to the recent emergence of climate change literature. One inescapable topic of jeremiad treatment was—and, I hasten to add, plainly still is—the threat of nuclear war. Although this shadow has darkened prospects for sustenance of all earthly life since 1945, particularly during the Cold War era, Jonathan Schell’s book The Fate of the Earth, which appeared in 1982, attempted to dramatize in memorable, grisly detail the likely consequences of an all-out nuclear holocaust. For Schell, unfolding that horrid scenario at the outset represents a first step toward enabling readers to apprehend, fully and emotionally, the threat’s imminent actuality, since “it may be only by descending into this hell in imagination now that we can hope to escape descending into it in reality at some later time” (Schell 1982, p. 5). For decades now, too, Wendell Berry, has inveighed against the unsustainable character of America’s mainstream farming practices, with their reliance on chemical modes of soil support and pest control. Berry’s agrarian critique of the so-called Green Revolution, of the decline of family farming along with the close-knit ethos of rural communities, of the depersonalizing effects of over- industrialized food production and the growth of agribusiness—all of these themes have long figured across multiple genres of Berry’s writing. One can sense the jeremiad force of this testimony from early on in Berry’s vocation, as in the title of his 1977 volume on The Unsettling of America. (Berry 1977) The anthropogenic extinction of certain favored animal species has presented another cause for alarm in latter-day green jeremiads. Thus the threatened demise of large crustaceans, especially sperm whales, became a prominent issue by the 1970s. A poetic amalgam of the jeremiad complaint with psalm-like praise of this signature animal gained prominence, for example, with the publication of Gary Snyder’s verse oration, “Mother Earth, Her Whales,” included in his Pulitzer-prize winning volume of 1974, which bore the eco-implicated title of Turtle Island (Snyder 1974). Peter Matthiessen enlarged upon the theme of diminished biodiversity in the second version (1987) of his Wildlife in America. “No one can doubt,” he concluded there, “that the world confronts an unprecedented impoverishment of the diversity of life,” a crisis in the making that “will be the exclusive work of man.” Indifference to the loss of species is effectually, he claimed, an “indifference to the future” that threatens to leave us “fatally diminished as a species” (Matthiessen 1987, pp. 279–80). By 2014, Elizabeth Kolbert in her volume titled The Sixth Extinction: An Unnnatural History, was calling attention to the unprecedented scale and acceleration of humanity’s latter-day erasure of species. Although for Kolbert this mass extinction of manifold plant and animal species bears some resemblance to catastrophic upheavals from earth’s geophysical past, its anthropogenic agency marks something new under the sun. And with coral reefs, the integrity of earth’s oceans, and the survival of many amphibian and other species all thrown into peril, it contributes toward a fundamental and degrading alteration of earth’s environment, dubbed now the era of the anthropocene. “No creature has ever altered life on this planet in this way before,” Kolbert writes (Kolbert 2014, pp. 2–3). Thus enmeshed in what she calls a pivotal “extinction event of our own making,” we can scarcely refrain from wondering “what happens to us?” One ironic possibility, as Kolbert observes in her concluding chapter, is that “we, too, will eventually be undone” (p. 267), rendered extinct as a species by the very transformations we have brought about. Homo sapiens could thus end up as both agent and victim of the anthropocene. That prospect, wherein “everything people Religions 2020, 11, 172 7 of 12 have written and painted and built” will have “been ground into dust” (p. 269), leads us to contemplate an abyss of existential vulnerability even more unsettling than that borne by cognizance of our personal mortality. Some of these latter-day writings blend the fearful, admonishing tone of the jeremiad with other modes of expression. In that light we should at least note in passing Ed Abbey’s prophetic discourse in his Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness (Abbey 1968). Cactus Ed held strong views, after all, about the welfare of wildlands—above all, desert spaces surrounding Arches National Park near Moab, Utah—that he regarded as vulnerable to desecration despite, or perhaps because of, their federally designated status. Thus assuming the voice of a brashly oracular Jeremiah, he labels a key chapter of his book “Polemic”—followed in subtitle by “Industrial Tourism and the National Parks.” And in the book’s “Down the River” chapter, set nearby in Arizona, Abbey blends his primary mode of personal narrative with social satire, an adventure tale, and a kind of jeremiad-elegy over the flooding of idyllic Glen Canyon. Here Abbey excoriates what he takes to be the profanation of nature’s sacred sanctuary and waterway, the ruin of an irreplaceable beauty, through this imposition of a damned dam onto the Colorado River. What choice or saving grace could Abbey possibly offer, though, in recounting such a never-to- be repeated journey through canyonlands whose fate had already sealed by the time the book appeared? True, Glen Canyon was gone for good. Too late for hope of conversion there. Yet Abbey’s testimony, like John Muir’s failed campaign to save Hetch Hetchy Valley, effectively galvanized public support for future preservationist bids at other sites in the region near Grand Canyon, including dam projects that had been proposed at Marble Canyon and Bridge Canyon. To that extent Abbey’s writing helped to transform the demise of Glen Canyon, beautifully elegized as well by photographer Eliot Porter, into something of a generative calamity. Of course no perilous circumstance of the anthropocene era now draws more attention than our environment’s momentous, accelerated alteration in the face of climate change. Much attention has even been directed lately toward a new literary subgenre called “climate fiction” or ClifI. It is represented, at its best, by a work such as Barbara Kingsolver’s novel Flight Behavior (Kingsolver 2012), which finds an objective correlative for the disruptions effected by climate change in the anomalous patterns of monarch butterfly migration as witnessed by characters residing in my own region of rural Tennessee. Yet nonfictional prose represents the largest share of what qualifies as classic American environmental literature, including those latter-day versions of the green jeremiad meant to dramatize the imminent, all-encompassing danger posed by climate change. Anxiety over the progress and consequences of climate change doubtless figures now as the chief environmental issue of our time. Accordingly, the last green jeremiad I want to consider here is Bill McKibben’s landmark exercise of environmental journalism, titled The End of Nature, published back in 1989. Since 1989 McKibben has gone on to publish many other writings. He has also served in any number of public roles as social critic, prophetic voice, and environmental activist in leading movements such as 350.org. Since 1989, to be sure, much of the statistical and other data presented in The End of Nature needs revision, given all we have learned about the relevant earth science and measurable changes over the last thirty years. Relevant writings, whatever their literary standing, by commentators such as Elizabeth Kolbert and David Wallace-Wells (The Uninhabitable Earth: Life After Warming, Wallace- Wells 2019) do incorporate such updated findings. Why, then, might The End of Nature still be regarded as a seminal and indispensable work, even arguably as the essential green jeremiad of our time? For one thing, this book played a pioneering role in drawing climate change—otherwise known then as global warming—to the serious attention of America’s public at large at a time when the issue had as yet received little recognition beyond the small circle of scientific specialists. In this volume McKibben, much as Carson had done, takes pains along the way to explain for nonspecialist readers the science behind the peril he perceives, to offer plentiful evidence of global warming’s reality and major impact on our world. While questions remain about the particular, long-term consequences of Religions 2020, 11, 172 8 of 12 climate change, and while much of the quantitative data McKibben supplied in 1989 needs updating, one should also note that the book’s dire predictions sound, if anything, understated in light of the ever-accelerating climactic changes we have been witnessing lately. Or as David Wallace-Wells declares, in the opening salvo of his recent, withering assessment, “It is worse, much worse, than you think” (Wallace-Wells 2019, p. 3). The End of Nature still deserves to be read for other reasons, too. To begin with, it reflects a grace and force in its mode of presentation that qualifies as authentically literary. And like other enduring specimens of American environmental literature, its larger argument is enlivened and humanized by personal testimony. The book’s voice and storytelling interludes—from the opening chapter all the way to final paragraphs—help to situate us sympathetically on this author’s home ground, amid the forested lake country of New York State’s Adirondack Mountains. And the ecology of literary fellowship that McKibben invokes within the larger course of his presentation amounts to a who’s who of American nature writers across time: from the eighteenth-century botanist-explorer William Bartram to landmark authors such as Henry Thoreau, George Perkins Marsh, John Muir, John Burroughs, Rachel Carson, Ed Abbey, Loren Eiseley, Barry Lopez, and Wendell Berry. They all participate in the choir of witnesses that McKibben orchestrates. The work’s figurative and rhetorical artistry likewise contributes to its impact. Part of McKibben’s rhetorical strategy here is to foreground his description of climate change—an almost unimaginably invisible and unlocalized form of environmental deformation—by challenging readers to reconceive the way they apprehend space and time. He points out how the headlong pace of present-day climate shifts challenges their most fundamental expectations about earth-space and geological earth-time. So just as we are inclined to “think of time as imponderably long, we consider the earth to be inconceivably large” (McKibben 1999, pp. 5–6). But the earth we now inhabit conforms to neither of these expectations. Consider, too, some of the figurative re-visioning developed in this book. McKibben notes, for example, how the greenhouse effect might aptly describe not only the way trapped atmospheric gasses have elevated temperature levels, but also the many ways in which we human beings have unwittingly, across the entire earth, “built a greenhouse—a human creation—where once there bloomed a sweet and wild garden” (p. 91). This greenhouse earth comes to resemble yet another human artifice writ large. What then might it mean, we’re pressed to wonder, to find now that “we are at the end of nature”? Surely, too, McKibben intends that telling phrase, “the end of nature” to have a broadly figurative rather than literal import. By the “end of nature,” he writes, I do not mean the end of the world. The rain will still fall, and the sun will still shine. When I say “nature,” I mean a certain set of human ideas about the world and our place in it. But the death of these ideas begins with concrete changes in the reality around us, changes that scientists can measure and enumerate. More and more frequently, these changes will clash with our perceptions, until our sense of nature as eternal and separate is finally washed away and we see all too clearly what we have done. (McKibben 1999, p. 8). Philosophically, another connotation of the “End” of nature leads us to muse upon its telos—that is, its putative meaning, purpose, and essential character. In such a light Ralph Waldo Emerson, in his landmark 1836 volume entitled Nature poses this question from the outset: “Let us inquire, to what end is nature?” (Emerson 1983, p. 7) Above all, McKibben’s book dramatizes the point that the vulnerability we’re forced to confront with the anthropogenic end of nature involves still more than a momentous threat to our physical health and survival as a species. More even, than a threat to the health and survival of manifold species and ecosystems. For the end of nature, McKibben argues, also occasions for our species a profound crisis of spirit. It poses an existential challenge to our personal and collective identity, our capacity for faith even in the possibility of godliness—that is, of any form of self-transcendence, our capacity henceforth to apprehend any essential reality beyond ourselves. Humanity’s pride in its seemingly supreme power to create a kind of shopping mall earth issues in deep sorrow and Religions 2020, 11, 172 9 of 12 loneliness, McKibben writes, because in the final analysis “there’s nothing there except us” (p. 89). So we are henceforth left to answer to no one but ourselves—both individually and collectively—for whatever we do. And in place of God, we suppose ourselves to be the only deities over earth worthy of our knowledge and belief. This new idolatry leaves us unable to reverence anything or anyone outside ourselves,3 to apprehend our contingent yet potentially satisfying place within the larger, wondrous expanse of Creation. In sum, the end of nature carries a “faith-shattering” potential (McKibben 1999, p. 79). But this crushing jeremiad does hold out to readers, at least as of 1989, some prospect of saving grace. Recalling Rachel Carson’s exhortation from 1962 to choose the road “less traveled,” McKibben (whose writing, like Carson’s and Kolbert’s, had appeared first in pages of The New Yorker magazine) observes that we “could exercise our reason to do what no other animal can do: we could limit ourselves voluntarily, choose to remain God’s creatures instead of making ourselves gods” (McKibben 1999, p. 214). For remarkably enough, he points out, state political leaders had once chosen, for example, to adopt policies that reversed the previous course of deforestation in the Adirondack woodlands surrounding his home in New York State, thus enabling a “second-chance wilderness” to emerge there. Fortunately, too, the world had “shifted course” in other ways following Carson’s jeremiad warning about the deleterious effects of DDT. Yet McKibben was in 1989—and certainly still is—far from underestimating the obstacles to our civilization’s changing its response to climate change. To advance that case with as much force and urgency as possible, he relied not only on an array of scientific evidence and explanations, but also on personal narrative and anecdote, on an array of literary invocations from American naturalist writers and from Milton’s Paradise Lost —even, from the faith perspective of his own Methodist Christianity, on an appeal to biblical texts. Perhaps surprisingly, the chief biblical text that informs his essay is the Hebrew Book of Job, about which he ended up writing another full though brief volume of commentary (The Comforting Whirlwind: God, Job, and the Scale of Creation) (McKibben 1994). In the Job-author’s dramatization of earth’s blessedly wild creatures—mighty Behemoth, Leviathan, and the rest—McKibben locates the expansive, enspirited vision of a Creation vastly larger than ourselves. So he finds the testimony of God’s voice from the whirlwind, though chastening indeed, to be revelatory. Here is how, within The End of Nature, he sums up the earthy force of that revelation: The Old Testament contains in many places, but especially in the book of Job, one of the most far-reaching defenses ever written of wilderness, of nature free from the hand of man. The argument gets at the heart of what the loss of nature will mean to us.... Finally, God arrives, a voice from the whirlwind. But instead of engaging in deep metaphysical discussion, he talks at some length about nature, about concrete creation... “Behold now Behemoth,” booms God. “He eateth grass as an ox, his strength is in his loins... Shall any take him when he is on watch, or pierce through his nose with a snare?” The answer, clearly, is no; the message, though not precisely an answer to Job’s plaint, is that we may not judge everything from our point of view—that all nature is not ours to subdue. (McKibben 1999, pp. 75–76) In this cultural moment, when we face a more accelerated threat to climate stability and environmental sustainability across the globe than formerly suspected, sustaining the jeremiad’s traditional reserve of hopeful exhortation has itself become problematic. Hopelessness, in fact, seems more than slightly warranted. Scientists confirm that even if international initiatives to reduce carbon dioxide and methane emissions were shifted promptly into high gear—as now seems unlikely—it would already be too late to reverse or even to halt the overall slide toward atmospheric degradation, too late to restore the wondrous old earth of preindustrial memory. Evidently, too, the least 3 (Woodruff 2001) Philosopher Paul Woodruff, in his discourse on Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue, offers a revealing perspective on the legacy and broadly non-parochial, trans-cultural implications of “reverence.” Religions 2020, 11, 172 10 of 12 privileged members of the human family must continue to bear the worst consequences of humanity’s dereliction in this regard. As activist Peterson Toscano points out, the ecojustice consequences of climate disruption are such that “we may all be in the same boat, but we are not all on the same deck” (Toscano 85, in Schade and Bullitt-Jonas 2019). And without some currently unimaginable breakthrough in technology, apparently the best outcome we might expect now—if we even dare to call such a desideratum “hope”—is some mitigation of those otherwise grave debasements of planetary life and health that now seem inevitable. In the face of all this, the green jeremiad’s traditional appeal to hoped-for change becomes indeed problematic, ambiguous if not downright futile. Yet ambiguity and paradox are of course the lifeblood of literary expression, arguably the stuff of life itself. What Mary Evelyn Tucker has termed a “tsunami of sadness” (Tucker xiii, in Schade and Bullitt-Jonas 2019) that engulfs all who care deeply about the climate crisis might thus serve at least to remind us that the virtue of Christian hope cannot be simplistically equated with temperamental optimism or wishful thinking. Best understood as a cultivated outgrowth of faith and love, it arises instead from a radical trust in, and abandonment to, a divine presence beyond ourselves, trust in the eschatological mystery of redemption. So within this mortal life it remains, like that which it aspires to achieve, a work-in-progress rather than a stable presumption. From the standpoint of this elusive, self-contradictory version of gospel “hope,” all human initiatives to combat and overcome the climate crisis must be regarded as impossible indeed—and yet, paradoxically, an imperative. As the arresting headline of one op-ed contribution to the New York Times puts it, “Stopping Climate Change is Hopeless: Let’s Do it.”4 Hope of this sort looks to live fully within, rather than in denial of, the encircling bounds of grief, discouragement, disillusionment, and near-despair. Thus critic Roger Gottlieb, in a discerning recent essay titled “Living with Environmental Despair,” concludes that “what is called for” at this juncture “is perhaps neither hope nor hopelessness—but courage to live with the fear,” given that “despair, I suspect, will for the indefinite future be a permanent part of an awakened consciousness” (Gottlieb 168, 167, in Schade and Bullitt-Jonas 2019). In the final analysis, then, what might we name as chief saving graces of America’s Green Jeremiad tradition, as we look beyond its graphic depiction of some ruinous future lying ahead of us? For one thing, green jeremiads confront us with a bracing declaration of the truth of things. They press us to see where we really are, where we and our fellow creatures must now be headed as a consequence of what we have done with and to the earth we have inherited, especially within the last thirty years. There is arguably a grace latent in just that much clear factual honesty, particularly in this post-truth era of public discourse, even when the truth in question happens to be inconvenient, unwelcome, or something we already know as abstract fact but have yet to absorb existentially. Or as Jonathan Schell prophesied, back in 1982 concerning the world’s nuclear sword of Damocles, “At present, most of us do nothing. We look away ... We deny the truth that is all around us” (p. 230). “We deny the truth that is all around us”—still largely true, it seems, of this nation’s practical response to climate change. But green jeremiad authors insist upon holding open for the moment some prospect for seeing or doing otherwise, despite their hopeless prognosis for recovering an earth of fond remembrance. A distant echo thus remains audible from those decades ago when Rachel Carson ended her best-known book with a chapter titled “The Other Road,” or Jonathan Schell with a chapter titled “The Choice.” And though Bill McKibben in 1989 saw through Nature’s End with such penetration that he could only “hope against hope” to see anything else, he, too, grants that we’re still invited to choose between “humble” and more dismissively “defiant” approaches to the specter of climate change (McKibben 1999, p. 193). And choosing the humbler path of relative 4 From an op-ed piece by Auden Schendler and Andrew P. Jones published on 6 October 2018, cited by Jim Antal, at the start of his essay on “Fighting Climate Change: Our Responsibility, Our Vocation, Our Salvation,” 123 in Schade and Bullis-Jonas. Religions 2020, 11, 172 11 of 12 austerity, whatever its practical result, helps at least to shatter the illusion of our radical self- sufficiency as masters of the world we inhabit, both as individuals and collectively. I would sound one last note about the green jeremiad’s potential for transformative grace. For the chastening, hortatory passion of the Jeremiad author likewise conveys its own testimony of faith—faith, at least, in the readership’s resilience, moral seriousness, and capacity for change, if not in a divine wellspring of transformation. It is, after all, by virtue of such faith, that the better angels of our nature might be awakened by argument, that prophetic writers find cause to launch their jeremiads in the first place. To alter if not reverse earth’s current course of anthropogenic degradation doubtless requires a godly abundance of faith, imagination, and resolve. Conversely, though, the green jeremiad might also contribute toward our recalling, and summoning up, the requisite faith. Perhaps it is no wonder, then, Bill McKibben concludes his classic jeremiad of 1989 by directing our gaze not down to all the environmental degradations, present and future, from which we shrink but upward, toward the starlit heavens. In such a light, he writes of the deep satisfaction he and his wife once felt, late at night atop a rocky northern summit, under a clear August sky, as they beheld with fresh confidence how “This vast nature above our atmosphere still holds mystery and wonder” (McKibben 1999, p. 217). Funding: This research received no external funding. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Abbey, Edward. 1968. Desert Solitaire: A Season in the Wilderness. New York: Ballantine Books. Bercovitch, Sacvan. 1978. The American Jeremiad. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. Berry, Wendell. 1977. The Unsettling of America: Culture and Agriculture. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books. Carson, Rachel. 1962. Silent Spring. New York: Houghton Mifflin. Elliott, Emory. 1994. The Jeremiad. In The Cambridge History of American Literature. Edited by Sacvan Bercovitch and Cyrus Patell. New York: Cambridge University Press, vol. 1, pp. 255–78. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1983. Emerson: Essays and Lectures. Edited by Joel Porte. New York: Library of America. Kingsolver, Barbara. 2012. Flight Behavior. New York: Harper Perennial. Kolbert, Elizabeth. 2014. The Sixth Extinction: An Unnatural History. New York: Henry Holt and Company. Matthiessen, Peter. 1987. Wildlife in America. New York: Viking Penguin. McKibben, Bill. 1994. The Comforting Whirlwind: God Job, and the Scale of Creation. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans. McKibben, Bill. 1999. The End of Nature. New York: Anchor-Doubleday. Miller, Perry. 1953. The New England Mind: From Colony to Province. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Mintner, David. 1974. The Puritan Jeremiad as a Literary Form. In The American Puritan Imagination: Essays in Revaluation. Edited by Sacvan Bercovitch. New York: Cambridge University Press, pp. 45–55. Plumstead, A. William, ed. 1968. The Wall and the Garden: Selected Massachusetts Election Sermons, 1670–1775. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Schade, Leah D., and Margaret Bullitt-Jonas, eds. 2019. Rooted and Rising: Voices of Courage in a Time of Climate Crisis. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Schell, Jonathan. 1982. The Fate of the Earth. New York: Alfred A. Knopf. Sideris, Lisa. 2008. The Ecological Rachel Carson, Silent Spring, and Breast Cancer. In Rachel Carson: Legacy and Challenge. Edited by Lisa H. Sideris and Kathleen Dean Moore. Albany: SUNY Press. Snyder, Gary. 1974. Turtle Island. New York: New Directions. Stowe, Harriet Beecher. 2018. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, 3rd ed. Edited by Elizabeth Ammons. New York: W.W. Norton. Wallace-Wells, David. 2019. The Uninhabitable Earth: Life after Warming. New York: Crown-Random House. Wigglesworth, Michael. 1968. God’s Controversy with New-England. In Seventeenth-Century American Poetry. Edited by Harrison T. Meserole. New York: W.W. Norton. Religions 2020, 11, 172 12 of 12 Woodruff, Paul. 2001. Reverence: Renewing a Forgotten Virtue. New York: Oxford University Press. Zimmer, Carl. 2019. Birds are Vanishing from North America. New York Times, September 19. Updated September 22. Available online: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/19/science/bird-populations-america- canada.html (accessed on 1 January 2020). © 2020 by the authors. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). 
work_lkg2cntwmrfm5hrdyyqq4xwzpm	----	Microsoft Word - 3CF4B8E0-218A-0696.doc TENDINŢE NOI ÎN BIBLIOTECONOMIE � Ruth C. Carter : �Editing Library Science Journals� BIBLOS 11-12 � p.32 Editing Library Science Journals: Reflections on Change and Constancy in almost Two Decades of Editing Library Science Journals Ruth C. CARTER1 Rezumat: Într-o lume în care digitalul se intersectează cu tipăritura în circularea informaţiei de specialitate, editorii de jurnale de bibliotecă fac faţă foarte bine, fiind familiarizaţi cu ambele universuri: al cărţii şi al computerelor. Dincolo de diversele media, rolul editorilor rămâne, în esenţă, cel dintotdeauna: acela de a filtra fluxul informaţiei, pentru a reţine doar ceea ce merită cu adevărat să rămână ca mărturie despre fazele evoluţiei unui domeniu. (ştiinţa informării ; bibliotecă, jurnale de ; editor ; editare ; jurnale electronice) 1 Ruth C. Carter, Ph.D., M.A., M.S. is editor of Cataloging & Classification Quarterly (Haworth Press, Inc.) and Journal of Internet Cataloging (Haworth Press, Inc.) and co-editor of the forthcoming Journal of Archival Organization (Haworth Press, Inc.) She was a member of the IFLA Committee on Serial Publications from 1991-1999 and participates in the IFLA Editors of Library Science Journals Roundtable. She is retired from the University of Pittsburgh Library System where she held many positions including Assistant Director for Automated and Technical Services and Head, Archives Service Center. She can be reached at 121 Pikemont Dr., Wexford, PA 15090-8447, USA or email at: rccarter@nauticom.net. One of the most delightful and fulfilling professional activities that this author has undertaken in librarianship has been that of journal editor. From the time I accepted the position of editor of Cataloging & Classification Quarterly (CCQ) in 1984 until the present, being a journal editor simultaneously has been exciting, demanding, and enjoyable. I was fortunate to take over CCQ as an established journal. That this made being an editor easier I did not fully appreciate at the time. Now, having been co-editor at the startup of Journal of Internet Cataloging (JIC) and more recently Journal of Archival Organization, I know how difficult it is to begin a new journal. For the purposes of this paper, however, I would like to consider what has and hasn�t changed in editing library science journals over the nearly two decades that have passed since I began as an editor. Topics I will cover include: international aspects, editorial processes from methods of submission to review and acceptance, topics covered, and ramifications on journals of the Internet and digital technology. There will, because of my experience, be an emphasis on cataloging related journals as examples. However, most of what I say will apply to one degree or another to journals in library education, collection development, reference services, administration, and automated systems support in libraries. International Aspects From the beginning many library science journals stated that they were international in coverage, both in content and in contributors. Yet, fifteen years ago there were few international contributors to journals based in the United States or more broadly, North America.i Even within North America the articles and members of editorial boards had a preponderance of English speakers who participated. TENDINŢE NOI ÎN BIBLIOTECONOMIE � Ruth C. Carter : �Editing Library Science Journals� BIBLOS 11-12 � p.33 Much changed in the 1990�s. Although cataloging and classification and publications such as CCQ, for example, always had an international audience and participation, during the 1990�s that representation went from one or two articles on average per volume to, in many cases, one or two articles per issue. Library science journal editorial boards expanded to include more members outside the United States and they helped secure a broader readership and more articles from around the world. Several factors contributed to the increased international activity. One of these was the Internet including e-mail, which allowed faster communication and the electronic submission of manuscripts. Another was the general context of the late twentieth century and its more global outlook and the realization that while a journal might be published in one country the audience was not limited by geographical location. Some aspects of librarianship such as cataloging in terms of both standards and rules had long been common in international forums including the International Federation of Library Institutions and Associations (IFLA) and the International Standards Organization (ISO). Increasingly retrieval issues have gained an international perspective as well. The ability to search an online catalog from anywhere in the world brought the catalog creators closer together whether consciously or not. All of this received additional emphasis as libraries and other agencies around the world began converting resources to digital form and mounting them on the World Wide Web where anyone with Internet availability could access them. In short the digital revolution contributed to an increasingly global and international orientation by library science editors. It is worth noting that the trend toward global contributions to and readership of journals does not always mean that the journal publishes in more languages. Although CCQ and JIC have published occasional articles in languages other than English this is a very infrequent occurrence. This is not because I or other editors based in the United States would not be willing to publish other languages, but because if non English native speakers are going to read an article in a language that is not their native language there is a general consensus they prefer English rather than having to cope with articles published in many other languages. Editorial Processes Manuscript submissions in the middle 1980�s were limited to printed copies. In the intervening fifteen years electronic submission became feasible and is used increasingly, especially by overseas authors. In most cases, after manuscripts are received and acknowledged, they are subject to the peer review process used by most library science journals. Peer review especially pertains to unsolicited manuscripts and involves two reviewers reading each manuscript and providing an evaluation of whether or not a manuscript should be published and, if yes, suggesting any revisions that the reviewer believes will strengthen the paper. The reviewers do not know who wrote the paper they receive and the author does not know who does the reviewing. Ordinarily peer review does not pertain to columns or reports. In most respects peer review today is the same as it was in the early 1980�s. Peer review does not always apply to invited papers that often makeup theme issues. In this case review is at the direction of the editor of the theme issue. One difference in the manuscript review process now is that sometimes reviewers will furnish the editor with comments via email. This works when the reviewer did not heavily mark directly on the manuscript. Most editors, at least in my experience, can work with evaluations received either via traditional postal mail or via e-mail. E-mail responses do save time. Another part of the editorial review process involves receiving a manuscript submission form in which the author signs TENDINŢE NOI ÎN BIBLIOTECONOMIE � Ruth C. Carter : �Editing Library Science Journals� BIBLOS 11-12 � p.34 over copyright to the publisher. The Haworth Press and most other publishers strictly adhere this to. In general, copyright is an issue of substantial importance to publishers and libraries and great care is taken to adhere to existing copyright laws. Sometimes an author does not even realize that a printout of a Web screen might be under copyright protection. Today editors in cooperation with publishers have to exercise great caution in assuring that nothing published violates copyright ownership. Although as editor I receive a mixture of print and email evaluations from the reviewers, I nearly always reply to the authors with a letter and comments in print. Depending on timing an author might receive some or all comments via email first but it is still helpful to send the print version. It is especially critical to reply in print if a reviewer has marked directly on his or her copy of the manuscript. In addition, most authors appreciate a formal acceptance letter for their dossiers. Finally, most editors submit the material for each journal issue to the publisher�s production offices in both print and electronically or electronically only. Electronic submissions expedite the production process by the publisher and minimize accidental errors from rekeying data. Scope and Contents The scope of contents in journals has tended to proliferate along with the greater geographic distribution of contributors. This is a reflection of the increase in information globally, the many new formats in which information is carried, and the need to address a diverse audience. Even a journal as focused as Cataloging & Classification Quarterly has seen a multiplication of topics within its scope including articles related to the organization and cataloging of Internet resources and public use of catalog records. At the same time some of the newer areas, for example Internet organization and access, have generated more specialized journals, for example, the Journal of Internet Cataloging. Thus, library science editors are working in a field with established journals taking on broader scopes while simultaneously spawning new, more specialized journals. This leads inevitably to more competition. Competition is a stimulus and can result in more publications due to greater awareness of the value of publishing. Yet more library science journals and more competition are in conflict with another seeming trend toward fewer unsolicited articles being received by editors for consideration for publication. Jennifer Younger, the editor of Library Resources and Technical Services noted former editor Richard Smiralgia reported receipt of 293 manuscripts in the five year period between 1991 and 1996. In contrast in the following four years Younger received 142 submissions.ii Fewer unsolicited manuscripts mean that editors must work harder to invite individual manuscripts and/or develop concepts for theme issues. Part of the reduction in numbers of submitted manuscripts is that in some areas such as library technical services there have been significant reductions in librarians and other professionals. With fewer staff and more and changing work demands, there is less time to write. Conversely, a number of academic institutions have tenure for librarians and they are required to publish. In some cases publishers also publish journal theme issues in monograph formats that include an index. These �book� versions are useful to libraries or individuals who care about the specialized theme issue topic but who do not want to subscribe to the journal on a regular basis. The book versions also often are valued for required reading collections in library and information science schools. The Digital Revolution TENDINŢE NOI ÎN BIBLIOTECONOMIE � Ruth C. Carter : �Editing Library Science Journals� BIBLOS 11-12 � p.35 Of all the factors affecting changes in library science publishing in the past decade, the most omnipresent and significant is the digital revolution. Although most library publishers are still print based, many are moving to publishing electronic versions that are often available to subscribers only. Other new e-journals may not undergo peer review and therefore may comprise quality. Editors in fields dealing with Internet and other digital based topics have urged publishers to expedite availability of the contents of their journals, as many of the authors and readers are highly Internet savvy and eager to see the fruits of their labor available electronically. Some journal editors in the 1990�s started Web pages for their journals. In fact the Journal of Internet Cataloging when established built in plans for its own Web page from the beginning. The value of journal web pages as an intermediate step toward an e-journal version was presented in a paper by Brisson and Carteriii at the IFLA 1997 conference in Copenhagen. The home pages for both CCQ and JIC have been very popular. They provide the text of the editor�s remarks, the table of contents and abstracts, and the full text of the news column for each issue. As an editor it is important to meet the user demand for this information online. Conclusions Being an editor is multifaceted and satisfies disparate needs for different editors. But most have in common a scholarly inclination in that they value the dissemination and preservation of the written word as evidenced in the research, theories, and practical applications shared by authors. Because librarians and information scientists are very computer literate and immersed in the print and digital worlds and their intersections, library science journal editors are aware of and involved in the latest trends and developments. Most library science editors are at least comfortable in the electronic world at the same time that they continue to value print. I take pleasure in being able to bring to fruition publications that will be useful in the present and document the ideas, experiences, and practices of today for future generations. Editing library science journals will evolve with technology and the interconnectivity of the libraries and librarians of the world. At the same time the value of publishing is a dearly held tenant by editors and their partners on the editorial boards and in publishing or they would not become or stay involved. If Younger is correct, we can expect the role of journals and editors, regardless of venue, to increase in significance.iv This is because journals and their editors transmit knowledge that as Ralph Waldo Emerson noted is �the amassed thought and experience of innumerable minds.�v Library science journal editors have and will continue to play an essential role in the transfer and preservation of the knowledge of our field. i Cataloging & Classification Quarterly�s first editor was C. Donald Cook at the library school at the University of Toronto, Canada. ii Jennifer A. Younger, �From the Editor,� Library Resources & Technical Services 44(4): 175 (October 2000). iii Roger Brisson and Ruth C. Carter �Using the World Wide Web to complement print journals: the Experience of Cataloging & Classification Quarterly,� presented at the Editors of Library Journals Program, IFLA, Copenhagen, Denmark, 2 September 1997. iv Younger, Ibid. TENDINŢE NOI ÎN BIBLIOTECONOMIE � Ruth C. Carter : �Editing Library Science Journals� BIBLOS 11-12 � p.9 v Ralph Waldo Emerson �Quotation and Originality,� Letters and Social Aims, 1876 as quoted in Gorton Carruth and Eugene Ehrlich, The Harper Book of American Quotations (Harper & Row: New York, Ny, 1988): 311. 
work_lonqbvwnkfhxlph2sc6njyz4vi	----	Unitarian Universalism for Religion Compass “Unitarianism, Universalism, and Unitarian Universalism” The Harvard community has made this article openly available. Please share how this access benefits you. Your story matters Citation McKanan, Daniel. 2013. “Unitarianism, Universalism, and Unitarian Universalism”. Religion Compass 7, no. 1: 15–24. Published Version doi:10.1111/rec3.12024 Citable link http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:13582788 Terms of Use This article was downloaded from Harvard University’s DASH repository, and is made available under the terms and conditions applicable to Other Posted Material, as set forth at http:// nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:dash.current.terms-of- use#LAA http://osc.hul.harvard.edu/dash/open-access-feedback?handle=&title=%E2%80%9CUnitarianism,%20Universalism,%20and%20Unitarian%20Universalism%E2%80%9D&community=1/3345931&collection=1/3345932&owningCollection1/3345932&harvardAuthors=1896d92ba2f34b5886e97e1a11cd8ec7&department http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:13582788 http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:dash.current.terms-of-use#LAA http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:dash.current.terms-of-use#LAA http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:HUL.InstRepos:dash.current.terms-of-use#LAA “Unitarianism, Universalism, and Unitarian Universalism” For Religion Compass Unitarian Universalism is a liberal religious tradition that took its present denominational form in 1961 through the consolidation of the Universalist Church of America and the American Unitarian Association, founded respectively in 1793 and 1825. Both Universalism and Unitarianism were originally forms of “liberal” or “rational” Christianity that defined themselves in opposition to Calvinist orthodoxy and revivalist enthusiasm. The former was named for its affirmation that all human beings will achieve salvation; the latter for its rejection of the Nicene doctrine of the Trinity. Both gradually opened themselves to various forms of post-Christian faith, to the point that only a minority of Unitarian Universalists today identify as Christians. Unitarian Universalism’s fervent opposition to “creeds” has made room for Buddhists, Jews, pagans, freewheeling mystics, “process theists” in the tradition of Alfred North Whitehead and Charles Hartshorne, “religious naturalists” influenced by Henry Nelson Wieman, and “humanists” who find religious value in humanity itself but not in God or the supernatural. Unitarian Universalists are united by a system of congregational polity that dates back to the Cambridge Platform of 1648 and by a list of seven principles and six sources that guides communal decisionmaking but is not binding on individuals. Most Unitarian Universalists are highly educated and hold liberal or leftist views on sociopolitical issues; most also yearn to build a “beloved community” that transcends divisions of race and class. The 1000 congregations, 161,000 adult members, and 54,000 children who comprise the Unitarian Universalist Association reside primarily in the United States of America, though thirty congregations (totaling 2000 members) in the Philippines are treated as a single member congregation of the UUA. The International Council of Unitarians and Universalists comprises seventeen full members, the largest of which are the UUA, the Unitarian Church of Transylvania (60,000 members), the Unitarian Church in Hungary (25,000 members), the Khasi Unitarian Union in India (9000 members), the Canadian Unitarian Council (5150 members), and the General Assembly of Unitarian and Free Churches in Great Britain (4300 members). The International Association for Religious Freedom (formerly the International Council of Unitarian and Other Liberal Religious Thinkers and Workers) includes liberal groups rooted in many world faiths, notably the Brahmo Samaj of India. A brief overview of Unitarian Universalism that treats history, theology, worship, religious education, and other topics is the Unitarian Universalist Pocket Guide, which is edited anew by each denominational president (Morales 2012). Greenwood and Harris (2011) provide somewhat more detail, with particular emphasis on global dimensions of the tradition. Leitgeb (2009) is an ethnographic study emphasizing practices of “self-cultivation.” Harris (2004) is a historical dictionary. The standard historical overview is Robinson (1985), though several surveys treating either Unitarianism or Universalism alone are still in use (Miller 1979, Miller 1985, Wright 1989a, Wilbur 1952). Recent topical histories with a broad chronological scope address such topics as community ministry, socioeconomic class, and Unitarianism and Universalism in Canada (Parker 2007, Harris 2011, Horton 2011, Buehrens 2011, Bumbaugh 2000). Cordes (2011-) is a series of documentaries with strong emphasis on global Unitarianism and Universalism. There is no comprehensive collection of primary sources, but useful anthologies are available on such topics as the origins of Unitarianism, Transcendentalism, and women’s work for social reform (Ahlstrom and Carey 1985, Buell 2006, Myerson 2000, Emerson 2000). Cassara (1997) and Parke (1985) are anthologies of Universalist and Unitarian sources, respectively, first published on the eve of consolidation. Scholars and church leaders have debated the origins of Unitarianism for several generations. Some Unitarian Universalists point to Arius and Origen as the progenitors of the “unitarian” and “universalist” ideas, though those patristic theologians had no direct influence on the founding of the denominations. There is sharp disagreement about the degree to which American Unitarianism built on the legacy of Polish Socinianism, Transylvanian Unitarianism, and the British Unitarian tradition of Joseph Priestley and Theophilus Lindsay. Earl Morse Wilbur (1952) gave significant attention to all these antecedents. Conrad Wright (1955) offered an alternative narrative: for him, Unitarianism was an indigenous American tradition that emerged gradually among Harvard-educated Puritans who absorbed Enlightenment ideas over the course of the eighteenth-century, then broke sharply with more “orthodox” Congregationalists during the “Unitarian controversy” of 1805-1825. With their Puritan roots, these Unitarians had little in common with the Polish and Transylvanian churches that traced their ancestry to the Radical Reformation. Wright’s emphasis on indigenity is echoed in Conkin (1997). The most interesting recent contribution to this debate is Bowers (2007). Largely conceding Wright’s interpretation of Unitarian churches in Massachusetts, Bowers demonstrates that Wright neglected a more scattered network of congregations (including a few in New England) that drew inspiration directly from Priestley, both before and after his immigration to Pennsylvania in 1794. Ruffin’s (2008) biography of Salem minister William Bentley sheds important light on the intersection between the two strands of Unitarianism. Johnson (2008) and Reed (2011) highlight Unitarian contributions to science from Priestley to Darwin. Other valuable studies of first generation Unitarianism in America include biographies of the preeminent preacher William Ellery Channing (Mendelsohn 1971, Delbanco 1981), Daniel Walker Howe’s (1970) influential study of Harvard moral philosophy, and recent dissertations on the Ware family, biblical scholarship, and responses to poverty (Jensen 2001, Willsky 2012, Posey 2007). The origins of American Universalism are more difficult to trace. Among the eighteenth- century expounders of the idea of universal salvation in North America were Charles Chauncy, the highly respectable minister of First Church in Boston (and a major precursor to Massachusetts Unitarianism) and George de Benneville, a visionary and physician who was part of the pietist influx into Pennsylvania. The first explicitly Universalist congregation was organized by English immigrant John Murray, who along with his teacher James Relly had previously affiliated with the revivalism of George Whitefield. By 1800, however, most Universalists, including the preeminent leader Hosea Ballou, had roots in the Baptist tradition of rural New England. Connections between Baptists and Universalists are highlighted in Marini (1982) and Hughes (1997 and 2005). To complicate matters still further, Ballou rejected the doctrine of the Trinity on the grounds articulated by Joseph Priestley, which made him an earlier and more radical “unitarian” than most Boston Unitarians. Yet Ann Lee Bressler (2001) warns against the tendency to conflate early Universalism with Unitarianism: Universalism began, she insists, as “an eschatological and communally oriented faith” (p.8) and experienced a nearly total transformation before folding into a liberal consensus. Skemp (2009) is the first scholarly biography of pioneering women’s rights advocate Judith Sargent Murray, who married John Murray; apart from this there have been few major biographies of early Universalists since Ernest Cassara’s (1982) study of Hosea Ballou. Universalism and Unitarianism were scarcely established when they were wracked by divisions. In 1817 a playful debate on whether salvation occurred instantaneously or gradually after death devolved into a schism between “ultra-Universalists” and “restorationists.” In the 1820s, several of the most talented Universalist ministers defected to the anticlerical Freethought movement of Frances Wright and Robert Owen. Two decades later, the emerging Spiritualist movement gained the loyalties of as many as half of all Universalist ministers. Some stayed within the denominational fold, but those who gave spirit messages an authority comparable to that of the Bible were forced out. The link between Universalism and Spiritualism is highlighted in most general studies of Spiritualism, and given sustained attention in Buescher (2004 and 2006). Among the more prominent Universalists turned Spiritualists were prison reformer John Murray Spear, pacifist theoretician Adin Ballou (Spann 1992), and visionary poet Thomas Lake Harris; all of these men were also founders of utopian communities. The Unitarians, meanwhile, were challenged by the Transcendentalism of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Theodore Parker. In the 1838 Divinity School Address, Emerson, who had recently left the Unitarian ministry, urged Divinity School graduates to turn their attention away from “historical Christianity” and “acquaint men at first hand with Deity.” When Unitarian leaders Andrews Norton and Henry Ware, Jr., attacked Emerson for abandoning miracles, biblical authority, and a personal God, George Ripley entered the lists on Emerson’s behalf—then resigned his ministry to launch a utopian community at Brook Farm. Their friend Theodore Parker, on the other hand, insisted on retaining his ministry—prompting most other Unitarian ministers to refuse to exchange pulpits with him. Though Transcendentalism involved far fewer people than Spiritualism, it has inspired vastly more scholarship. Indeed, scholarship on Transcendentalism is more voluminous than that on all other aspects of Unitarian Universalism combined. This is largely because Emerson and his admirers figure so prominently in the canon of American literature. Most of the scholarship has been generated by English or history, rather than religion, departments, though several of the leading scholars have personal ties to Unitarian Universalism (Buell 1973, 1995, 2003; Gura 2007; Richardson 1995; Robinson, 1982, 1993, 2004; Capper & Wright 1999; Rosecrans 2000). The past two decades have seen a great flowering of Transcendentalist biography (Capper 1992-2007; Grodzins 2002; LeBeau 1985; Marshall 2005; Matteson 2007, 2012; von Mehren 1994), as well as comprehensive studies of the utopian communities at Brook Farm, Fruitlands, and Northampton (Delano 2004; Francis 2010; Clark 1995). Both Transcendentalism and more conservative strands of Unitarianism figure prominently in the equally voluminous scholarship on abolitionism (McKanan 2003; Stange 1977, 1984; Yacovone 1991). Macauley (2001) offers an important counterpoint, narrating the experiences of Unitarianism in the antebellum South. Like many American traditions, Unitarianism and Universalism evolved bureaucratic denominational structures in the years after the Civil War. Unitarianism in particular enjoyed strong leaders with close ties to structures of political and cultural power. Unitarian Horace Mann was the most important shaper of American public education, and Unitarians founded Washington University in Saint Louis, Reed College in Oregon, Antioch College in Ohio, and other leading schools. Thomas Starr King, a Universalist turned Unitarian who pastored the Unitarian congregation in San Francisco, played the decisive role in keeping California loyal to the Union (Matthews 2012). Henry Whitney Bellows led the Sanitary Commission during the Civil War, inadvertently creating space for future women’s suffrage advocates to gain organizational skills (Giesberg 2000, Venet 2005). After the war, Bellows organized the National Conference of Unitarian Churches, bringing local congregations into organic union for the first time. Working closely with moderate Transcendentalists James Freeman Clarke and Frederic Henry Hedge, Bellows promoted a vision of a “Broad Church” with room for both Christians and post-Christians (Kring 1979). Though the radicals formed a rival “Free Religious Association” in the postbellum period, many were eventually reconciled to Bellows’s vision. With weaker leaders, Universalism was less successful at retaining its radicals; it also struggled to differentiate itself from mainline Protestant churches that were no longer preaching hellfire. Though the “grasshopper missionary” Quillen Shinn planted dozens of churches, the denomination as a whole declined steadily from the Civil War to its consolidation with Unitarianism. Recent scholarship on the postbellum period has generally downplayed institutional history in favor of studies of theology and social activism on the radical fringe. Leigh Schmidt’s (2005) study of American spirituality focuses largely on the second-generation Transcendentalists of the Free Religious Association, while his (2010) biography of sex radical Ida C. Craddock notes her Unitarian affiliation. Emily Mace (2010) highlights radical Unitarian as well as Ethical Culturist contributions to a “cosmopolitan” engagement with the religions of the world. Both Unitarianism and Universalism were relatively open to women’s ministry in the late nineteenth century, with Universalism producing the largest number of ordained women and Unitarianism inspiring an especially close-knit network of female pastors in Iowa (Cazden 1983; Coté 1988; Tucker 1994; Zink-Sawyer 2003). Laywomen in both traditions were also prominent in women’s rights and other forms of activism (Tucker 2010, Galliher 2009, Venet 2005). Twentieth-century Unitarianism and Universalism have gained modest scholarly attention, with the emphasis on social activism and theological radicalism continuing. Despite their exclusion from the Federal Council of Churches, Unitarians and Universalists (such as Harvard professor Francis Greenwood Peabody and Tufts scholar Orello Cone) contributed substantially to the mainstream of the Social Gospel. They were also overrepresented in more radical movements, including socialism, World War I pacifism, the early civil rights activism of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, and even the Popular Front of the 1930s and 1940s (McKanan 2011; Eddis 2011, Lee-Forman 1998). African American ministers in the traditions, though numerically few, are the topic of several studies (Morrison- Reed 1984, 2011; Floyd-Thomas 2008). Unitarian and Universalist religious educators, led by the prolific Sophia Lyon Fahs, led the way in incorporating Deweyan method and multi-religious content into Sunday School curricula. And the most momentous theological event of the period was the rise of “religious humanism,” which sought to foster religious values apart from any notion of the divine (Schulz 2002). The conflict generated by such ideas was surprisingly mild: Unitarian leader Frederick May Eliot successfully expanded Bellows’s big tent to include atheists as well as theists, and by the time of consolidation humanism was the dominant strand within Unitarianism and a significant minority within Universalism. Consolidation of the Unitarian and Universalist traditions occurred at a time of optimism among Unitarians, who had seen more rapid growth in the postwar years than their mainline Protestant neighbors (Ross 2001). Partly this was because of the innovative “Fellowship” movement, which encouraged the creation of lay-led congregations in cities and university towns far removed from denominational heartland of New England (Ulbrich 2008). Many of the newer Unitarians saw social justice as the heart of their faith. Members of the fellowship in Montgomery, Alabama, were prominent as white allies of the bus boycott in that city. In 1965 dozens of ministers travelled to Selma in the wake of the murder of Jimmie Lee Jackson, and hundreds more joined them after one of their own, Rev. James Reeb, was murdered on March 9. (Another Unitarian Universalist, Viola Liuzzo, was killed in Selma on March 25.) (Mendelsohn 1966) Membership in UU churches was still overwhelmingly white, however, and when Black Unitarian Universalists organized a caucus, the national response was ambivalent. The UU general assembly voted in 1968 to give a million dollars, spread over four years, to black empowerment activities—perhaps the largest per capita contribution of any historically white denomination. The grant was reaffirmed in 1969, then scaled back by the national officers in response to a fiscal crisis. This history continues to shape denominational conversations about racial justice. (Carpenter 2003) The Unitarian Universalist embrace of feminism and GLBT liberation generated less controversy; indeed, one of the most notable differences between Unitarian Universalism and mainline Protestantism is the absence of any schism-threatening battle over sexuality. During the 1970s the denomination moved rapidly to embrace inclusive language, and soon most Unitarian Universalist ministers were women. Drawing on a long heritage of support for birth control, Unitarian Universalism repeatedly advocated for abortion rights. A few ministers had performed gay and lesbian marriages long before Stonewall, a few came out of the closet around that time, and the denomination declared its solidarity with gay liberation in 1970 (Wilson 2012, Oppenheimer 2003, McKanan 2011: 234-35). Unitarian Universalists also pioneered religiously- based sex education with “About Your Sexuality,” a 1970 curriculum that empowered children to make thoughtful choices about their sexual behavior (Gibb 2003). (Its successor, “Our Whole Lives,” was developed jointly with the United Church of Christ.) Considerably more disruptive consequences flowed from the sexual revolution, however: the denomination experienced a wave of clergy sexual misconduct as heterosexual male ministers experimented with alternatives to monogamy in the 1970s (Pope-Lance 2011). Coupled with the defections of politically conservative members, this turmoil contributed to steady numerical decline from the late 1960s through the early 1980s. Since that point, however, Unitarian Universalism has enjoyed steady or slightly increasing membership numbers, with growth especially strong in regions that had once had few or no Unitarian or Universalist congregations. The majority of Unitarian Universalists today are converts. Though there are no issues that threaten to divide Unitarian Universalism today, there are lively conversations about the proper balance between social justice work and other dimensions of religious life, and about the most transformative and faithful ways to pursue social justice (Millspaugh 2009). Efforts to become more fully anti-racist in congregational and denominational practice have generated widespread reflection (Bowens-Wheatley and Jones 2002; Takahashi-Morris, Roush, and Spencer 2009). With the numerical decline of the humanist strand of Unitarian Universalist, and the proliferation of spiritual paths within the denomination, Unitarian Universalists often debate the proper role of “spirituality” within liberal religion. Denominational president William Sinkford set off one such debate in 2003,when he called on Unitarian Universalists to “grow out of a cranky and contentious adolescence” by becoming more willing to use traditional religious language (Grodzins 2004). Despite its aversion to creeds and formal doctrines, Unitarian Universalism has always been well represented in North American theological conversations. At the time of consolidation, three UU scholars enjoyed influence far beyond the bounds of the denomination. James Luther Adams, a social ethicist who taught at Meadville Lombard, Harvard, and Andover Newton, helped introduce Paul Tillich to American audiences; absorbed neo-orthodox critiques without betraying liberal principles; and was among the older generation of theologians who welcomed the onset of liberation theology. Henry Nelson Wieman and Charles Hartshorne were philosophers who joined Unitarian churches near the end of their careers; as influential shapers of “Chicago School” theology they introduced the thought of Alfred North Whitehead to American theologians. Adams’s legacy has been continued by his student Kim Beach (Beach 2005); Wieman’s by Jerome Stone (2008) and Creighton Peden (2010); and Hartshorne’s by a vast number of disciples, both in the academy and the churches. Most UU theologians today identify simultaneously with liberation theology and with the older traditions of humanism, religious naturalism, process theism, or Christian liberalism. Building on the pioneering work of William Jones, Anthony Pinn has emerged as the preeminent exponent of Black humanism (1995, 2001, 2003, 2004, 2010, 2012). Sharon Welch, who came to Unitarian Universalism through her encounters with students preparing for Unitarian Universalist ministry at Harvard Divinity School, offers a liberationist humanism in a postmodern key (1990, 1999, 2004, 2008), while William Murry’s work (2007) reinterprets classical humanism in a twenty-first century context. Rebecca Parker, working in collaboration with Rita Nakashima Brock and John Buehrens, has offered a thoroughgoing feminist critique of classical Christianity while also inviting post-Christian Unitarian Universalists to engage the Christian theological tradition more fully (Parker and Brock 2001; Parker and Brock 2008; Buehrens and Parker 2010). Thandeka, who like Parker draws deeply on the tradition of process theology, has addressed both the legacy of Friedrich Schleiermacher and the psychology of racism (1995), and is currently developing a systematic theology in dialogue with cognitive neuroscience. Paul Rasor’s overview of liberal theology and his call to renewed prophetic practice among religious liberals have been widely read by Unitarian Universalist laypeople as well as scholars (2005, 2012). Though UU theologians are well represented in the academy, theological labor in UUism never fully migrated out of the congregational setting. Like William Ellery Channing and Hosea Ballou in the early nineteenth century, and John Haynes Holmes, John Dietrich, and Curtis Reese in the early twentieth century, many of the most influential thinkers today have combined serious scholarship with careers entirely or primarily in the parish, or in denominational leadership (Buehrens 2003, Church 2009, Schulz 2001, Pearson 2006, Bumbaugh 2000, Morrison-Reed 1984, 2001, Bowens-Wheatley and Jones 2002, Gilbert 2000). Fewer than one in a thousand Americans are members of Unitarian Universalist churches today. Still, the tradition has not lost faith in its own capacity to be “the religion for our time,” as current denominational president Peter Morales puts it. That vision is most evident in the “Standing on the Side of Love” campaign, which strives to give a rich theological grounding to activism, particularly on the issues of marriage equality and immigration rights. At the 2012 General Assembly in Phoenix, delegates joined with local partners to protest Arizona’s S.B. 1070 law and the harsh policies of the Maricopa County sheriff’s office. It is unlikely that the witness of two thousand Unitarian Universalists directly influenced the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn most of that law. But the action epitomized the vision that most unites Unitarian Universalists: a profound longing to embody “beloved community” in the local congregation and the larger society. Works Cited Ahlstrom, Sydney E., & Carey, Jonathan S. (1985). American Reformation: A Documentary History of Unitarian Christianity. Middletown, Conn.: Wesleyan. Beach, George K. (2005). Transforming Liberalism: The Theology of James Luther Adams. Boston: Skinner. Bowens-Wheatley, Marjorie, and Jones, Nancy Palmer, eds. (2002). Soul Work: Anti-Racist Theologies in Dialogue. Boston: Skinner. Bowers, J.D. (2007). Joseph Priestley and English Unitarianism in America. 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"The Origins of New England Universalism: Religion without a Founder." Journal of Unitarian Universalist History. Hughes, Peter (2005). "Some Problems in the Chronology of Early American Universalism," Unitarian Universalist Christian. Jensen, Timothy (2001). “The Wares: Three Generations of American Unitarians.” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Oregon. Johnson, Steven (2008). The Invention of Air: A Story of Science, Faith, Revolution, and the Birth of America. New York: Riverhead. Kring, Walter Donald (1979). Henry Whitney Bellows. Boston: Skinner. Lee-Forman, Koby (1995). The Simple Love of Truth: The Racial Justice Activism of Celia Parker Wooley. Ph.D. dissertation, Northwestern University. LeBeau, Bryan F. (1985). Frederic Henry Hedge, Nineteenth Century American Transcendentalist. Allison Park, Pa.: Pickwick. Leitgeb, Lori E. (2009). “Building Theology, Reinscribing Subjectivity: Cultivating a Liberal Identity in Unitarian Universalism.” Ph.D. dissertation, University of Buffalo. Macauley, John (2001). Unitarianism in the Antebellum South: The Other Invisible Institution. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press. Mace, Emily. (2010). “Cosmopolitan Communions: Practices of Religious Liberalism in America,1875-1930.” Princeton University dissertation. Marini, Stephen A. (1982). Radical Sects of Revolutionary New England. Cambridge: Harvard. Marshall, Megan (2005). The Peabody Sisters: Three Women Who Ignited American Romanticism. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Matteson, John (2007). Eden’s Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father. New York: W. W. Norton. Matteson, John (2012). The Lives of Margaret Fuller. New York: W. W. Norton. Matthews, Glenna (2012). The Golden State in the Civil War. New York: Cambridge, 2012. McKanan, Dan (2003). Identifying the Image of God: Radical Christians and Nonviolent Power in the Antebellum United States. New York: Oxford. McKanan, Dan (2011). Prophetic Encounters: Religion and the American Radical Tradition. Boston: Beacon. Mendelsohn, Jack (1966). The Martyrs: Sixteen Who Gave Their Lives for Racial Justice. New York: Harper & Row. Mendelsohn, Jack (1971). Channing: The Reluctant Radical. Boston: Skinner. Miller, Russell E. (1979). The Larger Hope: The First Century of the Universalist Church in America, 1770-1870. Boston: UUA. Miller, Russell E. (1985). The Larger Hope: The Second Century of the Universalist Church in America, 1870-1970. Boston: UUA. Millspaugh, John Gibb (2009). A People So Bold: Theology and Ministry for Unitarian Universalists. Boston: Skinner. Morales, Peter, ed. (2012). The Unitarian Universalist Pocket Guide. Boston: Skinner. Morrison-Reed, Mark (1984). Black Pioneers in a White Denomination. 3d ed. Boston: Skinner. Morrison-Reed, Mark, ed. (2011). 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Minneapolis: Fortress. Welch, Sharon D. (1999). Sweet Dreams in America: Making Ethics and Spirituality Work. New York: Routledge. Welch, Sharon D. (2004). After Empire: The Art and Ethos of Enduring Peace. Minneapolis: Fortress. Welch, Sharon D. (2008). Real Peace, Real Security: The Challenges of Global Citizenship. Minneapolis: Fortress. Wilbur, Earl Morse (1952). A History of Unitarianism in Transylvania, England, and America. Cambridge: Harvard. Willsky, Lydia. (2012). “Bible Matters: Unitarians, Biblical Interpretation, and the Free Pursuit of Truth.” Vanderbilt University dissertation. Wilson, Jeff (2012). “’Which One of You is the Bride?’ Unitarian Universalism and Same-Sex Marriage in North America, 1957-1972.” Journal of Unitarian Universalist History. Wright, Conrad (1955). The Beginnings of Unitarianism in America. Boston: Beacon. Wright, Conrad (1970). The Liberal Christians: Essays on American Unitarian History. Boston: Beacon. Wright, Conrad (1989). Waking Together: Polity and Participant in Unitarian Universalist Churches. Boston: UUA. Wright, Conrad, ed. (1989a). A Stream of Light: A Short History of American Unitarianism. 2d ed. Boston: Skinner, 1989. Wright, Conrad (1994). The Unitarian Controversy: Essays on American Unitarian History. Boston: Skinner. Wright, Conrad (1997). Congregational Polity: A Historical Survey of Unitarian Universalist Practice. Boston: Skinner. Yacovone, Donald (1991). Samuel Joseph May and the Dilemmas of the Liberal Persuasion. Philadelphia: Temple, 1991. Zink-Sawyer, Beverly Ann (2003). From Preachers to Suffragists: Woman’s Rights and Religious Conviction in the Lives of Three Nineteenth Century Clergywomen. Louisville: Westminster John Knox.   
work_lp6nc3atwvf7tjmwlcghgv6rsm	----	Microsoft Word - Palen_authorcorr [1].docx       1   Journal of the History of Economic Thought 37: 2 (June 2015): 291-304 Free-Trade Ideology and Transatlantic Abolitionism: A Historiography BY Marc-William Palen* This essay seeks to trace the many—and often conflicting—economic ideological interpretations of the transatlantic abolitionist impulse. In particular, it explores the contested relationship between free-trade ideology and transatlantic abolitionism, and highlights the understudied influence of Victorian free-trade ideology within the American abolitionist movement. By bringing together historiographical controversies from the American and British side, the essay calls into question long-standing conceptions regarding the relationship between free trade and abolitionism, and suggests new avenues for research. Contradictions continue to surround the historical intersection of Anglo-American capitalism and slavery. The contested relationship between free-trade ideology and transatlantic abolitionism sits high among them. This historiographical essay seeks to                                                                                                                 * Lecturer in Imperial History, University of Exeter; Research Associate in U.S. Foreign Policy, U.S. Studies Centre, University of Sydney. I would like to thank Richard Huzzey, Caleb McDaniel, Steve Meardon, and the attendees at Bowdoin’s 2013 symposium, “American Political Economy from the Age of Jackson to the Civil War,” for their comments and suggestions.       2   trace the many—and often conflicting—economic ideological interpretations of the transatlantic abolitionist impulse, including the understudied transnational role of Victorian free-trade ideology. By expanding the survey beyond the national level, the essay suggests as well that long-standing conceptions of free-trade ideology and abolitionism need reconsideration. The transatlantic connection between economic ideology and abolitionism remains unsettled. From the American side, this has arisen in part because there is no consensus concerning the ideological motivations of American abolitionists.1 Some historians have suggested that American abolitionists did not subscribe to classical liberal ideas. For example, while granting that antebellum abolitionists “generally adhered to free trade economic ideas, sometimes radically so,” James L. Huston has argued that “abolitionists possessed a biblical political economy, not a classical liberal one,” a moral impulse that became diluted from the 1830s to the 1850s (2000, p. 488; 1990, p. 614).2 Paul Goodman has similarly portrayed American abolitionism as an oppositional religious response to the era’s relatively unregulated capitalist marketplace: “Abolition was a struggle to impose on social and economic relations the moral principles that were rooted in Christian teachings” (1998, pp. xiv, 140). The typical evangelical historiographical tradition goes even further than these interpretations in suggesting that                                                                                                                 1 For the wide variation in interpretations, see also Huston (2000 and 1990). 2 K. R. M. Short, examining the English intersection of Christianity and antislavery, has drawn similar conclusions; British free trade was “firmly wed to anti-slavery,” and contained “a decidedly religious imprimatur” (1965–66, p. 313).       3   American abolitionists were Christian reformers whose evangelical morality was in inherent opposition to market capitalism.3 Neo-Marxist—or perhaps Marxish, as one historian recently called it (Rockman 2014, p. 447)—interpretations have instead emphasized the close American relationship between free trade and abolitionism in attempting to condemn both as legitimating forces on behalf of the laissez-faire antebellum marketplace; and thus for effectively enslaving the northern working class to industrial capitalism. With a heavy reliance on Karl Marx and Antonio Gramsci, the anti-slavery impulse is portrayed as a form of cultural imperialism or hegemony, skillfully enacted by way of the marketplace in order to ideologically inculcate the masses into a new industrial era of wage slavery.4 Others still have attempted to reconcile economic ideology and American abolitionism by avoiding the Marxist condemnation of either the humanitarian anti- slavery impulse or the antebellum marketplace. Thomas Haskell, for example, has suggested that the peaceable elements of market transactions sparked a new-found humanitarian sympathy that led to abolitionism. This resultant sense of marketplace responsibility was then extended to a moralistic northeastern sense of responsibility to bring an end to American slavery (Haskell 1985 and 1985b).5 For others, the                                                                                                                 3 See, for instance, Hart (1906, pp. 15, 181, 320); Loveland (1966); Stewart (1976); Mathews (1965); Wyatt-Brown (1969); McKivigan (1984); Schriver (1970); Lesick (1980). For earlier, more critical, evangelical interpretations, see Barnes (1933, pp. 3–16), and Randall (1940). 4 See, for instance, Ashworth (1995, pp. 131–181), Davis (1987), Davis (1975, pp. 45–47), Temperley (1980). 5 See also Ashworth (1987). This interpretation bears some similarity to that of Seymour Drescher concerning the British marketplace. Although granting laissez-faire capitalism and abolitionism were       4   predominantly middle-class abolitionists in the United States subscribed to an economic individualism and anti-institutionalism that at times bordered upon anarchism (Perry 1973; Elkins 1958, pp. 147–157; Forster 2014). For these and many other scholarly works, abolitionists’ extreme laissez-faire capitalist ideas consequently led to strained relations with labor unions.6 Studies of nineteenth-century contract law, in turn, have emphasized the classical liberal motivations of abolitionism (Stanley 1998), and economic historians have only just begun to re-explore the close connection—rather than opposition—between antebellum tariff debates, transatlantic abolitionism, and religious revivalism (Meardon 2008). On the British side of the abolitionist-free trade debate, too, we run into a historiographical quagmire. The questioning of the humanitarian impulse of British abolitionists can, of course, be traced back to the influential work of Eric Williams (1944), who acknowledged the confluence of free-trade ideology and abolitionism in England, but also suggested that declining profits from the transatlantic slave system, not humanitarianism, brought about the end of the British slave trade and Caribbean slavery in the early nineteenth century. This humanitarianism-in-decline motif remains a point of                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           closely connected, Drescher has contended that the market per se did not create the abolitionist humanitarian impulse; working-class social relations also played a big role, as did the rise of evangelism. According to Drescher, British abolitionism was thus born more out of a non-Marxist class struggle stemming from the antebellum capitalist market at moments of high national confidence and optimism, rather than from purely economic relationships or ideology (Drescher 1986 and 2012). 6 See, for instance, Bender, Davis, Haskell, and Ashworth (1992); Foner (1980); Cunliffe (1979); Searle (1998, pp. 64–67); Nye (1963, pp. 246–247); Schmidt (1998); Gerteis (1987, pp. xiv, 63–65); Glickstein (1979); Kraditor (1970, pp. 246–255); Lofton (1948); Fladeland (1984, pp. viii–xi); McKinvigan (1999).       5   historiographical disagreement amid the official British shift to free trade from the 1830s to the 1850s. Some, such as Andrew Lambert, have concluded that British anti-slavery sentiment, even at the governmental level, remained “genuine and heartfelt” even after England’s turn to free trade in the late 1840s (2009, p. 78). Others have instead further questioned the humanitarian motivations of British free traders. The recent work of Simon Morgan, for instance, emphasizes the willingness of the Anti-Corn Law League (ACLL, 1838–1846), a predominantly middle-class English free-trade movement, to work with the slaveholding American South for low reciprocal tariffs. Morgan thus concludes that the free-trade leaders of the ACLL had “subverted anti-slavery’s moral authority” by the mid-1840s (2009, p. 89). Political scientists Chaim Kaufmann and Robert Pape go so far as to suggest that the British pursuit of free trade from the 1830s onward “actually conflicted with anti-slavery” (1999, p. 636). Enterprising scholarship on the American side has recently been coming at this transatlantic issue from the other side of the political economic spectrum, by instead connecting abolitionism with mercantilism, and slavery with free trade. Matt Karp, for example, links free trade firmly to pro-slavery forces, suggesting that the international trade liberalization of the late 1840s was “an implicit acknowledgement of the primacy of slave-grown agricultural products.” Leaning upon the humanitarianism-in-decline narrative, Karp delves into the international and imperial dimensions of the South’s King Cotton ideology, and points to how southern free-trade advocates like John C. Calhoun correlated British anti-slavery sentiment with mercantilism, and looked with favor upon the English adoption of free trade in 1846 alongside the economic failings wrought by British emancipation and protectionism in the Caribbean. To southern expansionists,       6   according to Karp, these various international developments “reflected a larger ideological transformation. The political economy of slavery and free trade had defeated the rival model of abolition and mercantilism” (Karp 2014a, pp. 37, 39–40). By the 1850s, the European elites’ embrace of “global free trade at the same time as they recoiled from global free labor” only confirmed “the triumph of slavery on the world stage” (Karp, 2014b, p. 420). Walter Johnson similarly explores how the 1837 US economic crisis had “led the defenders of slavery to renew their commitment to free trade” (2013, p. 289), and Charles Sellers and William W. Freehling have touched upon these interrelated issues with respect to the earlier Nullification Crisis (Sellers 1991, p. 320; Freehling 1966, p. 255).7 Brian Schoen, in turn, has demonstrated how Cotton South leaders’ antebellum economic ideas were grounded in a sophisticated, although ultimately flawed, understanding of the global economy. He also grants that antebellum southern slavery had largely become “enmeshed” with the Jeffersonian economic ideology of free trade. However, Schoen also shows that it was “in more subtle, complicated, and less all-consuming ways than have been previously suggested” by uncovering the South’s oft-overlooked growth in popularity of protectionist ideology, blurring the line connecting southern free-trade ideology and slavery (2010, p. 101). John Majewski has also explored this protectionist element within the southern slave economy (2009). Such complexity within antebellum southern economic ideology suggests scholars should remain cautious about conflating in toto pro-slavery sentiment (or anti- slavery sentiment) with the ideology of free trade.                                                                                                                 7 Allen Kaufman (1982) draws similar connections between free trade and slavery.       7   These unsavory interpretations surrounding free-trade ideology and abolitionism are, some argue, further illustrated by the debate over free trade in West Indian sugar after British emancipation in the 1830s. Although some scholars have taken the English free traders at their word when they declared that free trade in the West Indies would advance the anti-slavery cause (Huzzey 2010; Searle 1998, pp. 58–63; Turley 1991, pp. 148–149), most portray this episode as one of amoral, or even immoral, free-trade forces overcoming humanitarian abolitionist calls for Caribbean protectionism.8 According to the latter, by mid-century, one-time humanitarian abolitionists in England were now alleged to have discarded their moral sensibilities in order to maintain their support for the principles (and profits) of British free trade abroad. The transatlantic role of abolitionist consumers in the early- to mid-nineteenth- century marketplace has therefore played a sizeable role in adding to the historiographical confusion surrounding free-trade ideology and abolitionism. For example, the American Free Produce Movement of the 1820s and 1830s at first glance might also be viewed as a protectionist-abolitionist movement, owing to its attempt to boycott slave-produced goods and to encourage instead the consumption of “free labor” goods. But even here, it gets murky, because, as Lawrence B. Glickman points out, the leaders of the movement were also supporters of a “truly free market” that would show free labor to be less expensive and more efficient than slave labor (2004, pp. 894–895, 898). Such classical liberal dimensions can also be found in free-labor consumer boycotts in England, as can                                                                                                                 8 See, among others, Pilgrim (1952, pp. 95–96); Curtin (1954, p. 157); Bolt (1969, p. 20); Temperley (1972, pp. 154–155); Bethell (1970, p. 273); Lorimer (1978, pp. 71, 117); Drescher (2002, p. 166); Hall (2002, pp. 338–339); Davis (2006, pp. 248–249); Morgan (2009).       8   the shifting nature of their moral responsibility (Huzzey 2012b). British anti-slavery boycotters like Joseph Sturge similarly believed in the “ameliorative power of free market capitalism” (Sussman 2000, p. 188) and “the framework of a liberal political economy” (Turley 1991, p. 149), in the long term, at least (Tyrrell 1987, p. 140).9 Contradictory interpretations surrounding the relationship between Anglo- American abolitionism and economic ideology, humanitarianism, and the capitalist marketplace all fall short of explaining the strong transatlantic connections between Victorian free-trade ideology and abolitionism. In contrast to the contention that the dominant abolitionist economic ideology was biblical rather than classical liberal, for instance, many abolitionists did indeed draw ideological inspiration from the latter, in particular the mid-century, cosmopolitan, free-trade ideology derived from Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations (Howe 1997; Palen 2014a). Famously espoused by Anti-Corn- Law League leader Richard Cobden (1804–1865), this Victorian free-trade ideology correspondingly came to be known as Cobdenism: the belief that international free trade and a foreign policy of non-interventionism would bring about domestic prosperity and world peace. For these believers, free men and free trade were far from disparate goals. And Cobdenites numbered among the leading transatlantic abolitionists. Through a transatlantic exploration of Victorian Cobdenism, rather than the more commonly studied Jeffersonian free-trade tradition of southern slave owners, the classical liberal intersection with abolitionism becomes more pronounced. The fact that, until at least the 1860s, some of the most prominent transatlantic Cobdenites were a regular who’s who of radical abolitionists has, until recently, received surprisingly little attention                                                                                                                 9 See also Searle (1998, pp. 61–63).       9   within abolitionist historiography. New studies have rediscovered the long-dormant transatlantic ties between free trade, Christianity, and abolitionism in the American North and Britain.10 For example, Stephen Meardon (2008) has observed that it was more than coincidental that the evangelical Quaker Joseph Sturge founded the British and Foreign Anti-Slavery Society in 1839 at the same time that Richard Cobden organized the Anti- Corn-Law League—both around six years after the 1833 Emancipation Act at least ostensibly had ended slavery within the British Empire. Rather, Cobden and Sturge were representative of a growing alliance between Anglo-American abolitionism, free-trade ideology, and evangelism.11 Richard Huzzey (2012a) has similarly illustrated how, by the 1840s, the rise of Free-Trade England had not led to the fall of the British anti-slavery movement. The movement had splintered rather than declined; fractured rather than faltered. Though not “a nation of abolitionists,” Huzzey describes how Victorian Britain retained its humanitarian anti-slavery bona fides—and many of its most prominent abolitionist leaders stood at the vanguard of the ACLL fight for free trade. For example, W. Caleb McDaniel has connected more dots between transatlantic free trade and abolitionism, noting, for instance, how women of the ACLL staged free-trade bazaars, which gave direct and indirect encouragement to American abolitionists, and how                                                                                                                 10 This connection drew greater attention in the early twentieth century. In 1938, for example, Frank Klingberg argued, “The crusades for temperance, international peace, cheaper postage, free trade, antislavery, woman’s rights, and new religious movements were not separated by the Atlantic but united by it” (p. 542). Thomas P. Martin similarly drew connections between British free-trade advocacy and the Anglo-American anti-slavery cause (1928). See also Stanley (1983, pp. 82–83). On British Unitarian supporters of antislavery and free trade, see Stange (1984, p. 36). 11 For the latter, see also Yerxa (2012).       10   Garrisonian pacifist Henry Clarke Wright, among others, had developed close ties with the ACLL in their mutual fight against slavery (2013, pp. 122, 165–166). The anti- slavery and free-trade work of Harriet Martineau also fits within this transatlantic network (Midgley 1995, p. 130). As in Free-Trade England, the intersection of Cobdenism, evangelism, and abolitionism finds a similar intellectual pattern in the United States, and the pattern was purposeful. Richard Cobden, John Bright, and other leaders of the ACLL explicitly tied free trade and free labor together for its American anti-slavery audience. Cobden asked his disciples to “remember what has been done in the Anti-Slavery question. Where is the difference between stealing a man and making him labour, on the one hand, or robbing voluntary labourers, on the other, of the fruits of their labour?” (Meardon 2004, p. 212). The ACLL would even begin replacing “repeal” with “abolition,” as the latter contained more effective transatlantic resonance. The ACLL leadership also made sure to present their free-trade movement to international abolitionist correspondents in universalist religious and humanitarian terms. Cobden was quite clear on this point, noting that the league must appeal to “the religious and moral feelings . . . the energies of the Christian World must be drawn forth by the remembrance of Anti-Slavery.”12 Examples abound tying Cobdenism to transatlantic abolitionism. British Cobdenite George Thompson, for example, was sent to the United States to draw abolitionism and free trade more closely together. To aid both the anti-Corn Law and                                                                                                                 12 Morgan (2009, pp. 90–91); Temperley (1972, p. 195); Hilton (1988); Cobden to George Combe, 1 Aug. 1846, Add. MS 43660, Vol. XIV, Richard Cobden Papers; Richard Cobden to Peter Alfred Taylor, 4 May 1840, in Garnett (1910, p. 258). Pickering and Tyrrell (2000) explore this confluence in great detail.       11   anti-slavery movement, firebrand Thompson toured the United States, giving hundreds of speeches emphasizing the moral connections between Anglo-American free trade and abolitionism.13 More radical members of the American abolitionist movement held Thompson and his fellow “British Christians” in high esteem. With the support of their American abolitionist contacts, by the early 1840s, ACLL members like Thompson saw the possibility of an internationalization of free trade, beginning with the repeal of the Corn Laws “as a key” to anti-slavery advancement in America. Although it could not claim an ideological monopoly on Anglo-American abolitionist thought, the transatlantic abolitionist impulse was intimately associated with that of Victorian free-trade ideology.14 Massachusetts Reverend Joshua Leavitt, leader of the anti-slavery Liberty party and editor of the abolitionist Emancipator, was particularly noteworthy for tying American abolitionism to Cobdenism. From the late 1830s onward, Leavitt came to see that overturning the Corn Laws in England would eventually shift British trade from the importation of southern slave-grown cotton to western free-grown wheat. “Our Corn Law project,” he wrote to Liberty party presidential nominee James Birney in 1840, “looks larger to me since my return after seeing the very land where wheat grows. . . . We must go for free trade; the voting abolitionists can all be brought to that . . . and the corn                                                                                                                 13 See Morgan (2009, p. 90); Haynes (2010, pp. 192–199); Hilton (1988, ch. 2); Rice (1968); Thistlethwaite (1959, p. 162); Garrison (1836, pp. iii–xxxiii). 14 See, for instance, Temperley (1972, pp. 192–193); Turley (1991, p. 126); Fladeland (1972, chs. 10–11); Meardon (2008, p. 268).       12   movement will give us the West.”15 With Leavitt’s new-found transatlantic inspiration, he thereafter focused much of his attention on overturning the Corn Laws by developing an American repeal strategy that would aid British manufacturers and northern farmers (suffering from scarce credit after the banking crisis of 1837), all while striking “one of the heaviest blows at slavery, by relieving the free states of their dependence on cotton as the only means of paying their foreign debt.”16 Leavitt further strengthened his transatlantic ties through his correspondence with his English abolitionist friends and through the creation of American anti-Corn Law organizations in the American Northwest and New York, providing much-needed transatlantic moral support for the ACLL and strengthening his connection to Cobdenism (Davis 1990, pp. 180, 196, 202, 204; McPherson 1963). Thompson and Leavitt were not alone in bringing the ACLL’s free-trade fight to American shores, as explored in my forthcoming book The “Conspiracy” of Free Trade: The Anglo-American Struggle Over Empire and Economic Globalization, 1846–1896. For instance, William Cullen Bryant, former Barnburner Democrat, Free Soiler, poet, abolitionist, uncompromising free trader, and editor of the New York Evening Post, also attended ACLL meetings in London during the 1840s. In admiration for Cobden, Bryant would afterward go on to edit the American edition of Cobden’s Political Writings in                                                                                                                 15 Leavitt to Birney, 1 Oct. 1840, in Dumond (1938, p. 604); Meardon (2008, pp. 268, 273–275, 285–295); Crapol (1986, pp. 92–102). 16 Emancipator, 1 May 1840, p. 2; Davis (1990, p. 171); Morgan (2009, p. 95); Martin (1928,1935, and 1941).       13   1865, and would become an early leader of the subsequent Gilded Age American free- trade movement.17 Arch-abolitionist William Lloyd Garrison was himself heavily influenced by George Thompson and other British free traders. As one abolitionist-turned-protectionist friend, Giles Stebbins, recollected, “Garrison and others of the abolitionists whom I greatly respected, inclined to free trade; for their English anti-slavery friends were free traders.” In later years, Garrison became a member and corresponded frequently with the Cobden Club upon its creation in 1866. Expressing his thanks to the club “whose honoured name it bears,” he wrote to them: “I do not hesitate to avow myself to be a free trader to an illimitable extent.”18 Senator Charles Sumner of Massachusetts maintained particularly close mid- century ties with Cobden and Bright. Sumner first met Cobden in 1838 during a trip to England, and they developed a strong friendship in the decades leading up to and during the Civil War. Sumner duly became a strong advocate of Cobden’s quest for “Universal Peace.” In 1849, Sumner, seeking to inspire his audience of Free Soilers, reminded them of how the ACLL had brought together Tories, Whigs, and Radicals to repeal “the monopoly of the Corn-Laws. . . . In the spirit of these examples, the friends of Freedom have come together . . . to urge them upon the Government, and upon the country.”19 As Meardon observes, “in the broader context of peace and anti-slavery in which Sumner spoke, it was the rhetoric of Cobdenism” (2006, p. 216).                                                                                                                 17 Foner (1995, p. 153); Free-Trader (March 1870): 170; Bigelow (1890, pp. 182–183). 18 Stebbins (1890, p. 194); Morning Post, 7 Sept. 1875, 3. Divisions did exist among Garrisonians regarding West Indies sugar duties (McDaniel 2013). 19 Sumner to Cobden, 12 Feb. 1849, reel 63, Sumner Papers.       14   America’s first Cobdenites were an imposing group of abolitionists with strong transatlantic ties. Other American abolitionist leaders of the postbellum free-trade movement included Henry Ward Beecher, Edward Atkinson, Gamaliel Bradford, Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Earl Dodge, Parke Godwin, Benjamin Gue, Rowland Hazard, Edward Holton, James Redpath, Franklin Benjamin Sanborn, Thomas Shearman, Joseph Thompson, Francis Stout, Francis Vincent, Amasa Walker, and Horace White. Long after Cobden’s 1865 death, many of these American radicals would maintain correspondence with Britain’s Cobdenite leadership, and would continue to work toward bringing about Cobden’s universal vision of free trade and peace. These American friends of Cobden and Bright, these American subscribers to Cobdenism, headed the vanguard of Victorian America’s abolitionist and free-trade movements (Palen 2013 and forthcoming). Again, this is not to suggest that all abolitionists were Cobdenites. Transatlantic abolitionists could certainly point to numerous economic nationalists among their ranks, as could southern advocates of slavery. Why this continued disconnect within and between American and British abolitionist historiography? First, because many of the disagreements over the origins or motivations of Anglo-American abolitionism have arisen precisely from a desire to derive an all-encompassing intellectual motivation for abolitionism, even though there were multiple, and sometimes conflicting, ideological motivations for Anglo-American abolitionists.20 Some were driven principally by evangelism; others by pacifism; others by revolutionary Republicanism; others by economic nationalism; others by classical                                                                                                                 20 On the different abolitionist alignments, see, for example, Perry (1973); John R. McKivigan (1980); Friedman (1980); Friedman (1982); Huston (1990, p. 615).       15   liberalism; still more by some combination therein. These disparities do suggest that historians should avoid attempting to completely align a particular economic ideology with anti-slavery, be it market fundamentalism or market loathing. They should accept that there were multiple ideological conceptions of anti-slavery, much as there were multiple conceptions of liberty (Huzzey 2014). Second is the common tendency to halt studies of transatlantic abolitionism in 1865. As Caleb McDaniel has recently suggested, loosening the chronological end points might contain further revelations: “Today the neglected period of anti-slavery in America is not the first third of the nineteenth century, but the last” (2014, p. 85). Later trajectories indicate earlier sympathies. Relying upon the conclusion of the Civil War as end point has skewed American abolitionism, and overlooks the postbellum free-trade fight of former abolitionists to “unshackle” the fetters of American protectionism.21 The previously missed mid-century American influx of Victorian free-trade ideology— Cobdenism—was intimately tied to the antebellum transatlantic abolitionist movement, followed soon thereafter by the controversial politico-ideological struggle over American trade policy after the Civil War. For them, at least, it was but the next logical step in seeking the emancipation of mankind (Palen 2013 and forthcoming). Third, for those antebellum studies that do traipse into the postbellum era, their research has focused largely upon abolitionist work—or the lack thereof—on behalf of civil rights during Reconstruction. Yet, an even closer study of free trade and                                                                                                                 21 Indeed, the rhetoric of antebellum abolitionism permeated the postbellum debate over tariff reform; protectionists and free traders alike frequently employed the language of abolitionism to decry the opposition (Palen forthcoming).       16   abolitionism in the postbellum era sheds added light on why Reconstruction-era civil rights largely failed. Many of these antebellum abolitionist free traders would become the postbellum reformist leaders of the Liberal Republican and Mugwump movements. With the slaves ostensibly freed, these laissez-faire reformers would come to view the federal occupation of the New South with abhorrence, a counterproductive and even immoral abuse of government power, much as they would come to view with disgust the mainstream postbellum Republican adherence to protectionism (Slap 2006; Palen 2013, 2014b, and 2015). The reformists’ laissez-faire faith would correspondingly shift from freeing men to liberalizing American trade. It is here, rather than in the antebellum era, that the case might more persuasively be made that free-trade advocacy led to a declining humanitarian interest in civil liberties for freedmen and freedwomen, as the moralistic condemnation of these former abolitionists shifted from the plight of former slaves to what they considered to be the protectionist enslavement of American trade. Fourth is the common tendency to assume that antebellum abolitionist ideas arose within a national vacuum.22 The global turn within the history of capitalism and abolitionism offers numerous ways of surmounting this historiographical stumbling block.23 Bringing together the global history of capitalism with the global history of ideas (Moyn 2014) certainly looks promising. Comparative approaches to the historical intersection of economic ideology and nineteenth-century abolitionism could similarly                                                                                                                 22 Huston previously observed this parochial turn: that it was “highly unsettling” how intellectual histories of anti-slavery have “focused so closely upon particular aspects of northern culture” as to suggest that the American abolitionist movement “sprang entirely from internal northern developments” (Huston 1990, pp. 609, 619–620). 23 Et al., Huzzey (2011); Johnson (2013); Karp (2011); Allen (2014); Wyman-McCarthy (2014).       17   yield fertile intellectual soil. How, for example, did the Anglo-American story of free- trade ideology and abolitionism compare to that of the Danes, the French, or the Australians (Røge 2013; Almeida 2011; Perry 2014)? And what might happen if such comparative histories of abolitionism and ideology were coupled with McDaniel’s call for an extended chronological framework?24 The recent work of transnational scholarship on Cobdenism, the resurgence of the history of capitalism, and the interdisciplinary “global turn” illuminate that many avenues yet remain available for better understanding the intersection of free-trade ideology and transatlantic abolitionism. REFERENCES Allen, Richard B. 2014. “Slaves, Convicts, Abolitionism and the Global Origins of the Post-Emancipation Indentured Labor System.” Slavery & Abolition 35 (2): 328–348. Almeida, Joselyn M. 2011. Reimagining the Transatlantic, 1780–1890. Farnham: Ashgate. Ashworth, John. 1987. “The Relationship between Capitalism and Humanitarianism.” American Historical Review 92 (Oct.): 813–828. _____. 1995. Slavery, Capitalism, and Politics in the Antebellum Republic, Volume 1, Commerce and Compromise, 1820–1850. 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work_lploi6pnvzg33cnlv4rtk2th6e	----	References that anyone can edit: review of Wikipedia citations in peer reviewed health science literature References that anyone can edit: review of Wikipedia citations in peer reviewed health science literature OPEN ACCESS M Dylan Bould staff anesthesiologist 1, Emily S Hladkowicz research assistant 2, Ashlee-Ann E Pigford research assistant2, Lee-Anne Ufholz director3, Tatyana Postonogova research associate4, Eunkyung Shin research assistant 5, Sylvain Boet staff anesthesiologist 6 1Department of Anesthesiology, Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario, University of Ottawa, 401 Smyth Road, Ottawa, ON, Canada, K1H 8L1; 2Department of Anesthesiology, Ottawa Hospital Research Institute, Ottawa; 3Health Sciences Library, University of Ottawa, Ottawa; 4Allan Waters Family Simulation Centre, Li Ka Shing Knowledge Institute, St Michael’s Hospital, Toronto, ON, Canada; 5Department of Surgery, St Michael’s Hospital, University of Toronto, Toronto; 6Department of Anesthesiology, The Ottawa Hospital, University of Ottawa, Ottawa Abstract Objectives To examine indexed health science journals to evaluate the prevalence of Wikipedia citations, identify the journals that publish articles with Wikipedia citations, and determine how Wikipedia is being cited. Design Bibliometric analysis. Study selection Publications in the English language that included citations to Wikipedia were retrieved using the online databases Scopus and Web of Science. Data sources To identify health science journals, results were refined using Ulrich’s database, selecting for citations from journals indexed in Medline, PubMed, or Embase. Using Thomson Reuters Journal Citation Reports, 2011 impact factors were collected for all journals included in the search. Data extraction Resulting citations were thematically coded, and descriptive statistics were calculated. Results 1433 full text articles from 1008 journals indexed in Medline, PubMed, or Embase with 2049 Wikipedia citations were accessed. The frequency of Wikipedia citations has increased over time; most citations occurred after December 2010. More than half of the citations were coded as definitions (n=648; 31.6%) or descriptions (n=482; 23.5%). Citations were not limited to journals with a low or no impact factor; the search found Wikipedia citations in many journals with high impact factors. Conclusions Many publications are citing information from a tertiary source that can be edited by anyone, although permanent, evidence based sources are available. We encourage journal editors and reviewers to use caution when publishing articles that cite Wikipedia. Introduction Launched on 15 January 2001, Wikipedia is self described as “a free, collaboratively edited, and multilingual internet encyclopedia supported by the non-profit Wikimedia Foundation.”1 As of 2012 Wikipedia is the largest online reference site,2 3 and it is reported to be the most used online healthcare resource globally.4 However, the assessment of Wikipedia as a credible source for information has been debated since its origin.5 The impermanent nature of Wikipedia entries and concerns about quality have been raised as important matters.6 The literature on Wikipedia has concentrated on evaluating content and ensuring that users have access to appropriate information.5 Only 13% of Wikipedia articles had identifiable errors when assessed by academics.7 Giles and colleagues found that the number of factual errors, omissions, or misleading statements in Wikipedia articles was comparable to the Encyclopaedia Britannica.8 In general, Wikipedia articles reference academic literature,9 10 and medical articles are overseen by WikiProject Medicine, which is driven by editorial oversight.2 4 Several studies have confirmed the accuracy of health specific Wikipedia articles and discuss the potential value in education of patients.2 3 8 11-15 Wikipedia has offered an innovative way to provide free access to information for people around the world.2 4 5 To further improve the quality of these articles, medical professionals are being encouraged to contribute to Wikipedia.2 16-18 Studies have also examined groups that use Wikipedia, noting that, in addition to patients and nursing students,2 3 10 19 medical students and residents commonly access Wikipedia to acquire health information.20-23 Although physicians have been discouraged from relying on Wikipedia,16 one study showed that in practice use of Wikipedia is as high as 70% among junior physicians.22 In general, consultation of Wikipedia is a growing trend among academics. For example, among more than 1000 authors in Nature, 17% reported that they consulted Wikipedia on a weekly basis.8 As the public and Correspondence to: M D Bould dbould@cheo.on.ca No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 1 of 10 Research RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/ http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1136/bmj.g1585&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2014-03-05 http://www.bmj.com/ healthcare professionals increasingly accept Wikipedia as a source of information, new questions emerge such as the appropriateness of citing Wikipedia in academic publications. The controversial nature of citing Wikipedia as a reference source for academic information is threefold. Firstly, a theoretical concern exists that anyone with access to the internet can alter Wikipedia. This raises questions about the spread of unintentional misinformation, which is fuelled by acts of intentional vandalism that have gained media attention and have challenged the public’s perception of Wikipedia.24-26 However, the use of a wiki model addresses the fear that that the information on Wikipedia is not guaranteed to be correct. The concept of a wiki is based on the assumption that the majority is correct: if someone writes an erroneous statement on Wikipedia, the probability is considered to be high that someone else from the majority that is presumed to be correct will identify the error. This model has many advantages and allows Wikipedia to be a free source of a vast amount of collaborative information.2 4 5 However, the scientific community still has concerns about the academic integrity of a model that in theory could be edited by anyone. Secondly, the changing nature of Wikipedia makes permanent versions difficult to access. Although Wikipedia maintains a detailed history of previous Wikipedia pages, current academic citation systems rarely require a citation to include time stamped access information detailed to the second. As Wikipedia pages are in constant change, unlike paper encyclopaedias in which readers can confidently find the permanent cited source, readers might find confirming that the Wikipedia reference is the exact version cited challenging, particularly if detailed time stamps are not included.27 Thirdly, citing tertiary sources such as Wikipedia, which are resources that compile or provide digests of secondary sources, has literary problems.28 Secondary sources are books, articles, or unpublished literature that provide an interpretation of primary sources, which include original data, manuscripts, records, or documents. International guidelines state that authors should provide direct references to original research sources,29 so citing Wikipedia or any other tertiary source in the academic literature opposes literary practice. To date, only one study has examined the frequency of citation of Wikipedia in the academic literature.30 To our knowledge, no one has examined the frequency of Wikipedia citations in the health science literature and the ways in which Wikipedia citations are used. We aimed to evaluate the prevalence of Wikipedia citations in indexed health science journals, identify the health science journals that publish articles with Wikipedia citations, and determine how Wikipedia is being cited. Methods Data collection In February 2012 one investigator (LU) searched the ISI Web of Science and Scopus online databases to identify articles in the peer reviewed health science literature that had directly cited Wikipedia since its inception in 2001. She searched references of all articles in both databases on the same day for the word “Wikipedia” or any possible derivation to account for spelling errors. The word could appear anywhere in the reference, so not all articles necessarily referenced Wikipedia but could be articles about Wikipedia. To focus on indexed health science literature, we refined the results by using Ulrich’s Database to identify articles from journals indexed in at least one of Medline, PubMed, or Embase. We retrieved full text for the articles (including reviews, original research, editorials, letters to the editor, and case reports) identified in the search through the University of Ottawa library and associated Canadian inter-library loan services. We excluded citations when articles were not written in English or when full text was unavailable. Although citations originated in the health science literature, the topic of the citation could extend beyond health, so we included all Wikipedia pages that were cited in the academic literature. In the event that an article cited Wikipedia more than once, we considered all citations and created duplicate entries for that article. We used Thomson Reuters Journal Citation Reports (JCR) to collected journals’ 2011 impact factors (a measure that reflects how frequently the average article in a journal has been cited in a particular period).31 32 JCR impact factors provide quantitative evidence about the position of one journal in relation to the competition and offer an approximation of the prestige of a journal. When interpreting the impact factor, one should consider only journals within the same subject category as the scores are relative.32 JCR coverage includes the world’s leading journals and offers a systematic, quantifiable means to critically evaluate them by measuring the influence and impact of research at the journal and category levels, as well as showing the relation between citing and cited journals. We did not recover other journal metrics because of the unique nature of JCR and its pre-eminence as a proxy to measure a journal’s importance within a field. Data extraction/coding system Using an iterative process, we developed a descriptive coding strategy. Three investigators (MDB, SB, ESH) reached consensus on the distinction between categories. After independently reviewing 15% of citations, the three investigators met as a team to discuss their coding strategies. They developed an initial coding strategy and recoded citations with the new guide. The team continued this iterative process of coding, meeting, and refining the guide before the three authors reached agreement and the coding strategy was finalised. Emergent sub-codes were integrated into the coding system as they arose. Using the coding system, one investigator (ESH) systematically coded all Wikipedia citations. To ensure coding reliability, another investigator (AEP) coded 100 random citations with the same coding system. Analysis We used SPSS 17.0 for statistical analysis. We calculated descriptive statistics for the frequency of Wikipedia citations by thematic code, the impact factor of journals citing Wikipedia (median, range), and the frequency of these statistics by year. We used the intra-class correlation coefficient to assess the inter-rater reliability. Results We recovered 2359 publications (2307 from Scopus and an additional 52 from Web of Science) in our search. After excluding duplicates, non-English journals, and articles that did not directly cite Wikipedia, we retrieved full text for 1433 articles from 1008 indexed journals, with 2049 Wikipedia citations. In total, 2011 impact factors were available for 1420 citations in 980 articles from 650 indexed journals and were found in the JCR database. Table 1⇓ shows the frequency of Wikipedia citations since 2001, the nature of citations (thematic code), and related impact factor information (median and range). The intra-class correlation No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 2 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ coefficient for the two coders was 0.91 (P<0.001), indicating a high degree of inter-rater reliability. More than half of the citations were coded as definitions (n=648; 31.6%) or descriptions (n=482; 23.5%). For the purpose of this study, of the 13 categories, we considered citations (n=82; 4.0%) from only two categories (Citations about Wikipedia, and Wikipedia used in methods) to be the most appropriate uses of Wikipedia, as in these cases Wikipedia was the original source of information. Furthermore, we recovered 97 (4.8%) citations in which Wikipedia was cited in place of an original research study. The median impact factor of journals citing Wikipedia was 2.0 and has remained fairly consistent over time. However, the total number of Wikipedia citations has increased each year since 2004 except for between 2009 and 2010. The figure⇓ shows the number of articles that cite Wikipedia at least once by year up to 21 November 2013. Consistently since the inception of Wikipedia, journals with high impact factors have continued to publish references to Wikipedia. Table 2⇓ illustrates the journals with the top 25 highest impact factors that emerged in our study. These journals accounted for 2.2% (n=3) of cases in which Wikipedia was the most appropriate citations (as previously defined). Table 3⇓ specifies the titles and types of articles published in these journals, including the number of Wikipedia citations in each article. Journals with available impact factors that cited Wikipedia more than 10 times included Explore: The Journal of Science and Healing (n=53), Child’s Nervous System (n=26), BMC Bioinformatics (n=21), Theoretical Biology and Medical Modelling (n=20), Journal of Medical Internet Research (n=17), Health Information and Libraries Journal (n=13), BMJ (n=13), JALA—Journal of the Association for Laboratory Automation (n=12), and American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology (n=11). Discussion Our findings illustrate a relatively small but increasing frequency of citations of Wikipedia in indexed health sciences literature. We retrieved 2049 Wikipedia citations, in 1433 articles from 1008 journals indexed in Medline, PubMed, or Embase. Most of these citations occurred after December 2010 and were consistently found in journals with low impact factors and journals without impact factors, as well as in journals with high impact factors, including Nature, Science, and the BMJ. Using the descriptive coding strategy, we found a wide variety of uses for Wikipedia citations in the literature, the most common being definitions and descriptive statements. Strengths and limitations As the first study to describe the citation practices of Wikipedia (how, where, when, and so on) in indexed health science literature, our study adds insight into the role that Wikipedia may play in academic literature. We also provide information about the quality of the journals that cite Wikipedia, measured through impact factors from the Journal Citation Reports. The study searched citations from two well recognised databases (Scopus and Web of Science) and included all English language journals available in full text at Canadian university libraries, so some citations may have been excluded from the search because of the search criteria. However, the study used two comprehensive databases that probably captured most citations from journals with reaching influence as well as high impact factors. Although we report an increasing number of Wikipedia citations, the health science literature is expansive; therefore, papers that have cited Wikipedia remain a small minority of all published papers, albeit with increasing frequency. Comparison with other studies Active research on Wikipedia has examined the role of academic citations in Wikipedia, content validity, and interactions between Wikipedia and user groups.5 The only other study to examine Wikipedia in the scholarly references was completed by Park in 2011.30 In this bibliometric analysis, Park also used the ISI Web of Science and Scopus databases to identify the total number of studies (n=1746), as well as leading authors, their institutional affiliations, most frequent publication sources, main academic fields, and other statistics on the frequency with which scholarly articles cite Wikipedia. Our study took Park’s analysis further. Firstly, we used Ulrich’s database to refine search findings to be specific to health sciences literature. Secondly, we examined how Wikipedia is being cited. Both studies show a general increase in frequency of citations over time, suggesting that if Park’s data were to extend beyond 2010 they would continue to show increasing Wikipedia citations. While Park identified the publications that cited Wikipedia most often, our study also provides impact factors, adding information about journals’ impact. Contextualisation and policy implications Just because more researchers are citing Wikipedia does not necessarily justify it as a valid source of information for citation. Wikipedia itself has cautioned against using Wikipedia as a source,33 and some universities have gone so far as to ban students from citing Wikipedia.34 Recognising that learning modalities are changing and evolving increasingly towards online and e-resources,21 23 35 36 we believe that ensuring that peer reviewed academic literature aligns with the International Committee of Medical Journal Editors (ICMJE) guidelines is still important. Relevant to this study, the ICMJE guidelines state that “Readers should therefore be provided with direct references to original research sources whenever possible.”29 Although people have been argued that Wikipedia is comparable to an encyclopedia in terms of accuracy,8 37 this argument overlooks the literary problems associated with citing a tertiary source intended to direct researchers to an appropriate reference.34 We echo the findings of other researchers who believe that Wikipedia should not be cited when a more authoritative—that is, primary, permanent, peer reviewed, evidence based—source exists6; however, Wikipedia may be the most appropriate source to cite for a definition of Wikipedia and in situations in which Wikipedia is used as part of the scientific methods (for example, a search strategy). Outside of those rare instances, arguing that citation of Wikipedia in the academic literature is appropriate is difficult. Our “original research” category further illustrates how Wikipedia was often cited when the authors could have cited an original research study. For example, one article stated that “Some researchers propose that vitamin D supplementation may be beneficial in the treatment and prevention of some types of cancer,”38 and rather than citing the original sources provided on the Wikipedia page, the author instead cited Wikipedia. Evidence based medicine requires that clinical decisions are made using professional expertise in conjunction with replicable evidence from systematic research.39 As Wikipedia entries are constantly changing, they may be difficult to access in the form that was originally cited by the time the work is published, reducing the reader’s ability to reproduce the author’s process.27 In a study by Peoples,6 most citations to Wikipedia did not reference the date and time at which the entry was visited. Although Wikipedia does have a history function that allows users to access previous versions of the page, this function may not be obvious to most users, and determining which version No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 3 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ was accessed for citations that do not denote the date and time of the visit can be difficult. If Wikipedia is to be cited in the future, not only the date accessed but also the time should be included so that future researchers can access the entry as it was originally viewed. Thus, the process of peer review should include close attention to the references that appear in articles before recommending them for publication and potentially approving information that contradicts evidence based research. Future directions Although the proportion of retrieved Wikipedia citations in the indexed health science literature was relatively small, the increasing trend of citation is still important to note. The study of how Wikipedia is used in the academic literature is relatively young, and beginning an open discourse around the appropriateness of using non-permanent Wikipedia citations in the academic literature seems timely. The relationship between academic publication and Wikipedia remains largely understudied, and international guidelines such as those of the ICJME, World Association of Medical Editors, and Council of Science Editors lack editorial guidance on the subject. Although our study does not provide evidence of harm by these citations, even those that substitute for a permanent primary research source, we emphasise the need for a consistent voice on how Wikipedia should be used in the academic literature. This study begs the broader question of “what is an appropriate reference source?” Is it something that is generated by the scientific method, is replicable, and undergoes rigorous peer review or is it something that is collaboratively generated, readily open to editing, and broadly accepted? We call attention to the need to work with the Wikipedia community to establish guidelines not only for reviewers and editors but also for academics drafting publications. Conclusion An increasing number of peer reviewed academic papers in the health sciences are citing Wikipedia. The apparent increase in the frequency of citations of Wikipedia may suggest a lack of understanding by authors, reviewers, or editors of the mechanisms by which Wikipedia evolves. Although only a very small proportion of citations are of Wikipedia pages, the possibility for the spread of misinformation from an unverified source is at odds with the principles of robust scientific methodology and could potentially affect care of patients. We caution against this trend and suggest that editors and reviewers insist on citing primary sources of information where possible. Contributors: MDB and SB were involved in the conception and design of the study, the analysis of the data, and critical review of the manuscript. ESH was involved in the conception and design of the study, the analysis and interpretation of data, and critical review of the manuscript. AEP was involved in the analysis and interpretation of data and drafted the manuscript. LU was involved in the conception and design of the study, interpretation of the data, and critical review of the manuscript. TP and ES were involved in collection and analysis of data and critically revised the manuscript. All authors had full access to all data and reviewed the final version to be published. MDB and SB are the guarantors. Funding: The study was funded by the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario Department of Anesthesiology, University of Ottawa, and the Ottawa Hospital Department of Anesthesiology, University of Ottawa. The funding sources had no role in the study design; the collection, analysis, and interpretation of data; or the writing of the article and the decision to submit it for publication. Competing interests: All authors have completed the ICMJE uniform disclosure form at www.icmje.org/coi_disclosure.pdf and declare: no support from any organisation for the submitted work; no financial relationships with any organisations that might have an interest in the submitted work in the previous three years; no other relationships or activities that could appear to have influenced the submitted work. Ethical approval: Not needed. All the data presented are in the public domain. Citation information and full text articles were acquired through the ISI Web of Science and Scopus databases. As the accepted practice is not to seek consent to report on information in the public domain, we did not do so for this study, and nor did we seek approval from our research ethics board. Transparency: The lead author (MDB) affirms that this manuscript is an honest, accurate, and transparent account of the study being reported; that no important aspects of the study have been omitted; and that any discrepancies from the study as planned (and, if relevant, registered) have been explained. Data sharing: No additional data available. 1 Wikipedia. Wikipedia. 2012 [updated 19:11, 28 October 2012; cited 30 October 2012]. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia. 2 Heilman JM, Kemmann E, Bonert M, Chatterjee A, Ragar B, Beards GM, et al. Wikipedia: a key tool for global public health promotion. J Med Internet Res 2011;13:e14. 3 Thomas GR, Eng L, de Wolff JF, Grover SC. An evaluation of wikipedia as a resource for patient education in nephrology. Semin Dial 2013;26:159-63. 4 Heilman J. Online encyclopedia provides free health info for all. Interview by Fiona Fleck. Bull World Health Organ 2013;91:8-9. 5 Okoli C, Mehdi M, Mesgari M, Nielsen FÅ, Lanamäki A. 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Wikipedia:Plain and simple guide for medical editors. 2013 [updated 13:43, 17 May 2013 ; cited 4 December 2103]. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Plain_and_ simple_guide_for_medical_editors. 19 Leithner A, Maurer-Ertl W, Glehr M, Friesenbichler J, Leithner K, Windhager R. Wikipedia and osteosarcoma: a trustworthy patients’ information? J Am Med Inform Assoc 2010;17:373-4. 20 Allahwala UK, Nadkarni A, Sebaratnam DF. Wikipedia use amongst medical students—new insights into the digital revolution. Med Teach 2013;35:337. 21 Duran-Nelson A, Gladding S, Beattie J, Nixon LJ. Should we Google it? Resource use by internal medicine residents for point-of-care clinical decision making. Acad Med 2013;88:788-94. 22 Hughes B, Joshi I, Lemonde H, Wareham J. Junior physician’s use of Web 2.0 for information seeking and medical education: a qualitative study. Int J Med Inf 2009;78:645-55. 23 Judd T, Kennedy G. Expediency-based practice? Medical students’ reliance on Google and Wikipedia for biomedical inquiries. Br J Educ Technol 2011;42:351-60. 24 Vandals prompt Wikipedia to ponder editing changes. ABC News 2009 Jan 28. 25 Martin L. Wikipedia fights off cyber vandals. The Guardian 2006 Jun 18. 26 Kleeman J. Wikipedia fights vandalism. New Zealand Herald 2007 Apr 2. 27 Knapp MM. eBay, Wikipedia, and the future of the footnote. Theatre Hist Stud 2008;28:36-41. 28 Prytherch RJ. Harrod’s librarians’ glossary and reference book: a directory of over 10,200 terms, organizations, projects and acronyms in the areas of information management, library science, publishing and archive management: Ashgate Publishing, 2005. 29 International Committee of Medical Journal Editors. Recommendations for the conduct, reporting, editing, and publication of scholarly work in medical journals. 2013 [cited 15 Feb 2014]. www.icmje.org/icmje-recommendations.pdf. 30 Park TK. The visibility of Wikipedia in scholarly publications. First Monday 2011;16(1). 31 Garfield E. The Thomson Reuters impact factor. Curr Contents 1994;25:3-7. 32 Reuters T. Journal Citation Reports. 2013. http://thomsonreuters.com/products_services/ science/science_products/a-z/journal_citation_reports/. No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 4 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.icmje.org/coi_disclosure.pdf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2021326 http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.2021326 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Plain_and_simple_guide_for_medical_editors http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Plain_and_simple_guide_for_medical_editors http://www.icmje.org/icmje-recommendations.pdf http://thomsonreuters.com/products_services/science/science_products/a-z/journal_citation_reports/ http://thomsonreuters.com/products_services/science/science_products/a-z/journal_citation_reports/ http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ What is already known on this topic The use of Wikipedia as a source of academic information has been debated since its origin, but it is increasingly cited in peer reviewed health science literature Although studies have examined the content and vailidity of Wikipedia, no evidence has been published about how this resource is being used in health science literature What this paper adds Although a few instances exist that may warrant using Wikipedia as a reference, Wikipedia is often cited when permanent, evidence based sources are available Authors, reviewers, and editors should use caution when publishing articles that include Wikipedia citations 33 Wikipedia. Wikipedia:Citing Wikipedia. 2013 [updated 19:49, 5 June 2013; cited 6 June 2013]. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Citing_Wikipedia. 34 Waters NL. Why you can’t cite Wikipedia in my class. Commun ACM 2007;50:15-7. 35 Matava CT, Rosen D, Siu E, Bould DM. eLearning among Canadian anesthesia residents: a survey of podcast use and content needs. BMC Med Educ 2013;13:59. 36 Mostyn A, Jenkinson CM, McCormick D, Meade O, Lymn JS. An exploration of student experiences of using biology podcasts in nursing training. BMC Med Educ 2013;13:12. 37 Reavley NJ, Mackinnon AJ, Morgan AJ, Alvarez-Jimenez M, Hetrick SE, Killackey E, et al. Quality of information sources about mental disorders: a comparison of Wikipedia with centrally controlled web and printed sources. Psychol Med 2012;42:1753-62. 38 Chakraborti C, K. Vitamin D as a promising anticancer agent. Indian J Pharmacol 2010;43:113-20. 39 Sackett DL, Rosenberg WM, Gray JA, Haynes RB, Richardson WS. Evidence based medicine: what it is and what it isn’t. BMJ 1996;312:71-2. Accepted: 10 February 2014 Cite this as: BMJ 2014;348:g1585 This is an Open Access article distributed in accordance with the Creative Commons Attribution Non Commercial (CC BY-NC 3.0) license, which permits others to distribute, remix, adapt, build upon this work non-commercially, and license their derivative works on different terms, provided the original work is properly cited and the use is non-commercial. See: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/. No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 5 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Citing_Wikipedia http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/3.0/ http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ Tables Table 1| Frequency of Wikipedia citations since 2001, categorised by code and impact factor Median (range) impact factor Total citations—No (%)Coding strategy 1.9 (0.1-31.2)648 (31.6)A statement defining a word, phrase, item, or other symbol. This includes definitions of chemical formulas and equations that are not otherwise supported by original research references. Example: Caregiver is an internationally accepted term for unpaid people who are caring for someone requiring support due to a disability, frailty, mental health problem, learning disability or old age (Wikipedia) Definition 1.9 (none*-31.2)482 (23.5)Description of a process, system, or event. This differs from a definition, in that a process is explained without necessarily defining a term. Example: The key component of clinical audit is that performance is reviewed (or audited) to ensure that what should be done is being done, and if not, it provides a framework to enable improvements to be made (Wikipedia) Descriptive statement 1.7 (0.1-36.3)277 (13.5)Description of a historical event. This can include the date, location, and a description of the events that took place. Example: In 1984 a beautiful 18-year-old coed, Libby Zion, died in a New York City hospital after being improperly treated by sleep-deprived residents (Wikipedia) Historical 2.0 (none*-16.1)161 (7.9)Includes demographic and gross domestic product information (population size, including census information), geographical information, ratios, percentages, and averages. Example: West Bengal is an agriculture-dependent state in eastern India. It occupies only 2.7% of India’s land area, although it supports over 7.8% of the Indian population, and is the most densely populated state in India (Wikipedia) Statistics 2.9 (0.7-8.8)59 (2.9)Reporting results from a research study when on the Wikipedia page the original research is referenced but in the article the authors referenced Wikipedia, or the authors imply something like “research suggests that. . .” with no support other than Wikipedia. Example: Epidemiologic studies have shown that individuals who consume high levels of b-carotene in their diet and those with high levels of b-carotene in their blood have significantly reduced risk of lung cancer (Wikipedia) Original research 2.8 (0.6-14.1)38 (1.9)Tools used, such as a laws, formulas, or scales that could have been referenced using an original source. Example: The paediatric GCS (Wikipedia) and PNG TB score 5,6 (Table 1) were recorded for all children 1.2 (0.4-13.7)91 (4.4)Description of a person’s life or accomplishments. This may include dates. Example: In 1895, Wilhelm Conrad Roentgen reported the discovery of the x-ray (Wikipedia) Biographical 2.8 (0.6-13.8)78 (3.8)Citation about the Wikipedia, describing what it is, how it is used, and so on. Example: A case in point is Wikipedia, the largest encyclopedia in the world. With over 3.5 million registered users (Wikipedia) Citation about Wikipedia 1.8 (0.5-5.7)55 (2.7)Describing what Web 2.0 is and examples; Web 2.0 are resources in which multiple users continually update and remix data.21 Example: During the first decade of the 21st century, we have witnessed the birth of Web 2.0, heralded by a set of powerful tools designed to enhance creativity, information sharing, collaboration, and functionality of the Web, and to transfer power to the end user (Wikipedia) Web 2.0 citation 1.8 (0.5-6.8)50 (2.4)Any images, including maps, people, structures, figures, and so onImages 2.0 (0.5-7.8)42 (2.0)Author of article says to search Wikipedia for further details and references Wikipedia. Example: For a very interesting explanation of the impact factor and the debate around its use, go to Wikipedia’s “Impact Factor” entry (Wikipedia) Recommended reading 2.1 (0.1-9.9)37 (1.8)Unclear language, unable to understand what part of the citation is a reference to Wikipedia, reference number does not match citation, missing reference number, and so on. Example: http://en.wikipedia.org was listed in the reference list, but the matching reference number was absent from the text Unclear citation/ referencing 1.8 (1.0-2.8)27 (1.3)Replicating a direct quote from a person, movie, or book quoted in Wikipedia. Example: Ralph Waldo Emerson, an American philosopher, said: “Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm” (Wikipedia) Direct quotation 4.1 (4.1-31.2)4 (0.2)Wikipedia is directly used in the research methods of the paper. Example: We compared the rise to fame of the most famous people of different eras. We took all 740,000 people with entries in Wikipedia, removed cases where several famous individuals share a name, and sorted the rest by birth date and frequency (Wikipedia) Wikipedia in methods 2.0 (none*-36.3)2049 (100)Total *Journal indexed in Journal Citation Reports does not have assigned impact factor. No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 6 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://en.wikipedia.org/ http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ Table 2| 25 journals with highest impact factors that have cited Wikipedia since 2001 No (%) of citations for which Wikipedia is most appropriate source*Total No (%) of Wikipedia citationsImpact factorPeriodical name 82 (100)2049 (100)—All recovered citations 0 (0)1 (0.05)36.3Nature 1 (1.2)3 (0.1)31.2Science 0 (0)1 (0.05)30.4Nature Reviews Neuroscience 0 (0)1 (0.05)22.5Nature Medicine 0 (0)3 (0.1)18.4Journal of Clinical Oncology 0 (0)5 (0.2)17.4The Lancet Infectious Diseases 0 (0)4 (0.2)16.7Annals of Internal Medicine 0 (0)5 (0.2)16.3PLoS Medicine 0 (0)2 (0.1)16.1Clinical Microbiology Reviews 0 (0)3 (0.1)14.7Circulation 0 (0)3 (0.1)14.2Journal of the American College of Cardiology 0 (0)13 (0.6)14.1BMJ 1 (1.2)2 (0.1)13.8Journal of the National Cancer Institute 0 (0)1 (0.05)13.7Molecular Psychiatry 0 (0)2 (0.1)12.5Nature Reviews Neurology 0 (0)1 (0.05)11.7Gastroenterology 0 (0)5 (0.2)9.9Journal of the American Chemical Society 0 (0)1 (0.05)9.2Clinical Infectious Diseases 1 (1.2)2 (0.1)9.0Genome Biology 0 (0)1 (0.05)8.8Nature Reviews Cardiology 0 (0)5 (0.2)8.8Schizophrenia Bulletin 0 (0)1 (0.05)8.1Diabetes care 0 (0)1 (0.05)8.0Nucleic Acids Research 0 (0)4 (0.2)7.8Science Translational Medicine 0 (0)3 (0.1)7.5Annals of Surgery 3 (2.2)73 (3.6)—Total *Citations for which Wikipedia is original source of information (citations about Wikipedia, and Wikipedia used in methods) were considered most appropriate citations of Wikipedia. No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 7 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ Table 3| 25 journals with highest impact factors: article titles, types, and number of Wikipedia citations No of Wikipedia citationsType of articleArticleJournal 1LetterTracking the rupture of the Mw = 9.3 Sumatra earthquake over 1,150 km at teleseismic distance Nature 1PerspectiveChallenges and opportunities in mining neuroscience dataScience 1PerspectiveOn the future of genomic data 1Research articleQuantitative analysis of culture using millions of digitized books 1PerspectiveGene therapy: can neural stem cells deliver?Nature Reviews Neuroscience 1CommentaryPerspectives on the properties of stem cellsNature Medicine 1CorrespondenceReply to R.I. Haddad et alJournal of Clinical Oncology 4SeriesEmergence of medicine for mass gatherings: lessons from the HajjThe Lancet Infectious Diseases 1SeriesNon-communicable health risks during mass gatherings 2History of medicineAkhenaten and the strange physiques of Egypt’s 18th dynastyAnnals of Internal Medicine 1History of medicineThe nomogram epidemic: resurgence of a medical relic 1Medicine and public policyIndividualized guidelines: the potential for increasing quality and reducing costs 1Policy forumThe global health system: linking knowledge with action—learning from malariaPLoS Medicine 1Research articleMotor vehicle crashes in diabetic patients with tight glycemic control: a population-based case control analysis 1Research articleCardiovascular risk with non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs: systematic review of population-based controlled observational studies 1PerspectiveMeasuring the true costs of war: consensus and controversy 1Policy forumGlobal health philanthropy and institutional relationships: how should conflicts of interest be addressed? 2ReviewBed bugs: clinical relevance and control optionsClinical Microbiology Reviews 2ControversiesThere is a role for industry-sponsored education in cardiologyCirculation 1ReportsACC/AHA/ACR/ASE/ASNC/HRS/NASCI/RSNA/SAIP/SCAI/SCCT/SC MR/SIR 2008 key data elements and definitions for cardiac imaging: a report of the American College of Cardiology/American Heart Association task force on clinical data standards (writing committee to develop clinical data standards for cardiac imaging) 1ReportsACC/AHA/ACR/ASE/ASNC/HRS/NASCI/RSNA/SAIP/SCAI/SCCT/SC MR/SIR 2008 key data elements and definitions for cardiac imaging: a report of the American College of Cardiology/American Heart Association task force on clinical data standards (writing committee to develop clinical data standards for cardiac imaging) Journal of the American College of Cardiology 9Research articleHow citation distortions create unfounded authority: analysis of a citation networkBMJ 2Research methods and reporting; Statistics notes Statistics notes: brackets (parentheses) in formulas 1Feature; Christmas 2011: Oral traditions The royal road to healing: a bit of a saga 1Research articleCD4 cell count and viral load monitoring in patients undergoing antiretroviral therapy in Uganda: cost effectiveness study 1CommentaryRole of science in the treatment of breast cancer when tumor multicentricity is present Journal of the National Cancer Institute 1Brief communicationEffect of misclassified underlying cause of death on survival estimates of colon and rectal cancer 1Original articleDo reasons for major depression act as causes?Molecular Psychiatry 2ReviewNature Reviews Neurology 1Reviews and perspectivesRegenerative medicine and the gutGastroenterology 2CommunicationsLuminescent graphene quantum dots for organic photovoltaic devicesJournal of the American Chemical Society 1ArticleWhite light emission and second harmonic generation from secondary group participation (SGP) in a coordination network 1ArticleENDOR/HYSCORE studies of the common intermediate trapped during nitrogenase reduction of N 2H 2, CH 3N 2H, and N 2H 4 support an alternating reaction pathway for N 2 reduction No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 8 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ Table 3 (continued) No of Wikipedia citationsType of articleArticleJournal 1ArticleDielectric and thermal effects on the optical properties of natural dyes: a case study on solvated cyanin 1Photo quiz (answers)A woman with knee pain and soft-tissue calcificationClinical Infectious Diseases 1SoftwareProteopedia—a scientific ‘wiki’ bridging the rift between three-dimensional structure and function of biomacromolecules Genome Biology 1PerspectiveCan we dramatically reduce the incidence of coronary heart disease?Nature Reviews Cardiology 5Special featureBeating the odds—nothing is impossible, its just a road less traveledSchizophrenia Bulletin 1National standards and reviewNational standards for diabetes self-management educationDiabetes Care 1ArticleRfam: Wikipedia, clans and the “decimal” releaseNucleic Acids Research 4PerspectiveThe NCGC pharmaceutical collection: a comprehensive resource of clinically approved drugs enabling repurposing and chemical genomics Science Translational Medicine 3ReviewA review of natural orifice translumenal endoscopic surgery (NOTES) for intra-abdominal surgery: experimental models, techniques, and applicability to the clinical setting Annals of Surgery No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 9 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ Figure Number of articles that cite Wikipedia at least once by year since 2001. *Data from February 2012 to November 2013 were not included in detailed analysis No commercial reuse: See rights and reprints http://www.bmj.com/permissions Subscribe: http://www.bmj.com/subscribe BMJ 2014;348:g1585 doi: 10.1136/bmj.g1585 (Published 5 March 2014) Page 10 of 10 RESEARCH o n 5 A p ril 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://w w w .b m j.co m / B M J: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b m j.g 1 5 8 5 o n 6 M a rch 2 0 1 4 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://www.bmj.com/permissions http://www.bmj.com/subscribe http://www.bmj.com/ 
work_lrtalgkzjfbddamb6wzshlmtyu	----	Book reviews seem to lean more on popularly accepted views than on hard proof Recent work has shown that air pollutants can increase the response of the airways to allergens; the key question is to what extent does this occur at ambient levels of pollution. This is harder to answer but if not mentioned the reader is left with the impression that the effect is of known importance. The chapters dealing with solutions are helpful. Much useful information has been collected and tabulated. This will be an important source for students, especially as the "grey literature" in this area can be diffi- cult to trace. Costs and benefits are considered but not in great depth. For comparatively wealthy countries, air pollution is a soluble problem, for poor countries this may not be the case for some years yet. Given that industrial countries are inevitably in competition with one another it is not easy to see that rich countries will wish to help the less fortunate to enjoy a clean industrial revolution. Sadly, the old administrative adage "costs lie where they fall" seems to apply on a global scale. In conclusion, this is a useful and inex- pensive book which deals with an important problem. The more advanced reader will wish to follow up some of the author's points in the original literature-if he does so then he will find the picture is less clear cut than presented in Smog Alert. R L MAYNARD Environmental Hazards and Human Health by RICHARD B PHILP. (Pp 306; price ,C55.) 1995. Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press. ISBN 1-56670-133-3. As the author of this title proclaims, it is increasingly necessary for students of environmental sciences to know something of toxicology, and for students of toxicology to know something of the environment; the intention of Environmental Hazards and Human Health is to bridge that gap. The chapter titles range from water pollution through radiation hazards to risk analysis and the Gaia concept. This book is both lively and readable. Its intended aims are ambitious and its content comprehensive, but it somehow falls short of fully meeting its objectives. This may be due to the rather idiosyncratic style and the patchyness of the text. Although it frequently makes interesting reading, the material presented is often sketchy and selective. It also lacks formal referencing. Thus the material sometimes has an anecdotal feel, although balancing this is the author's personal touch and the inclusion of some unusual and useful snippets of material. It seems to be a prerequisite nowadays to preface any text or chapter on toxicology or pharmacology with a quote from Paracelsus. This one is no exception, although the quote used is more accurate than usual. It seems ironic that Paracelsus is so often used in this context as the point he was making referred in fact to the homeopathic usage of known poisons. As a general comment, I was not sure that the introductory quotes in this book contributed significantly. Not surprisingly, perhaps, in a book of this kind covering a very broad range of top- ics, some sections are lengthy and detailed whereas others seem short and superficial. Moreover, the material sometimes seems rather too simplistic and does not always adequately support the review questions given at the end of each chapter. Indeed, I was not convinced about the appropriate- ness of these questions or of the case studies provided. Also, it has to be said that the illustrations are not of the highest quality; they are all in black and white and often rather crude in comparison with the superb graphics increasingly commonplace in books of this ilk. In terms of completeness and top- icality of its contents, I was surprised not to see PM,0 mentioned by name. Nor was there a reference as such to environmental oestro- gens and the increasing evidence regarding the endocrine disrupting properties of chem- icals, which is currently a very topical issue in terms of both scientific and public inter- est. My overriding impression of this book was of a brave, if not wholly successful, attempt to cover all the key issues in this vast subject area. Although perhaps trying to achieve too much, the author nevertheless has produced a reader friendly overview for students needing basic information on a wide range of topics in the environment and health field, and I am sure the book will receive a wide readership. At £55 this hard- back book is reasonable value for money. PAUL HARRISON Traumatic Stress in Critical Occupations, Recognition, Con- sequences, and Treatment. By DOUGLAS PATON, JOHN M VIOLANT. (Pp 245.) 1996. Springfield, Il: Charles C Thomas. ISBN 0- 398-065772. The poet Ralph Waldo Emerson described the simple reality of the experiences of human beings in traumatic situations when he mused "we boil at different degrees". This book attempts to explore not only each person's reaction to traumatic stressful situa- tions, but also the "complex interactions between the person, the traumatic event, and the social and organizational back- ground against which performance takes place". The emphasis here is on understand- ing the stress and trauma phenomena and developing an "effective trauma manage- ment system". This duality of objectives, highlighting the current theory in the field and the practical solutions is laudable. Also, by encompassing the phrase "critical occu- pations", the authors have widened the con- ventional view of traumatic stress being associated with the emergency services only, extending the construct to the "helping pro- fessionals" as well. The book is divided into eight chapters, the first two of which are concerned with a broad overview of the field and by research considerations on methodology and assess- ment strategies. The next four chapters explore specific critical occupations such as emergency medical service workers, the police, and disaster relief agencies. Most of these cover not only the research undertaken but also education, prevention, and support approaches. The last two chapters, from my point of view, are the most interesting, as they explore the training and support for emergency responders and future issues in the area of practice and research. The issues of training and preparation, support and demands related to the event, and recovery and the social and organizational influences are assessed in depth. The assessment of occupational trauma is examined in the final chapter, with an emphasis on the need to carry out research which is longitudinal in nature and to explore a range of preventive strategies rarely discussed-for example, screening. This volume really does make a contribu- tion, both in terms of future research and strategies that organisations might adopt in coping with traumatic stress at work. It is up to date and clarifies many of the method- ological and occupational issues currently confronting the field of traumatic stress in an organizational context. It is not a cure all or a simple "do it yourself' guide to corpo- rate post-traumatic stress disorder, but a step in the right direction of an increasing problem among critical occupational groups. What is important for the health of employ- ees in any work environment, as this book reinforces time and time again, is to provide a creative and supportive organizational cul- ture. This can be done if we follow the sim- ple dictat of Kornhauser, over 30 years ago, in his book The mental health of the industrial worker. "Mental health is not so much a freedom from specific frustrations as it is an overall balanced relationship to the world, which permits a person to maintain a realis- tic, positive belief in himself and his pur- poseful activities. Insofar as his entire job and life situation facilitate and support such feelings of adequacy, inner security, and meaningfulness of his existence, it can be presumed that his mental health will tend to be good. What is important in a negative way is not any single characteristic of his sit- uation but everything that deprives the per- son of purpose and zest, that leaves him with negative feelings about himself, with anxi- eties, tensions, a sense of lostness, empti- ness, and futility." CARY L COOPER 144 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://o e m .b m j.co m / O ccu p E n viro n M e d : first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /o e m .5 4 .2 .1 4 4 o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 9 7 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://oem.bmj.com/ 
work_lsyciamc6bezno7l67cd7iqhii	----	2CP_1-55 Currently, three broad approaches to doing research into human phe- nomena are competing across Oceania. The dominant approach, intro- duced to the region by westerners, relies on discipline-based concepts, theories, and methods. Despite various independence and decolonization activities, disciplinary thinking still guides most formal projects and research-based publications. Though as yet considerably less common, an alternative perspective emphasizing indigenous interpretations is receiv- ing increasing attention. This approach encourages researchers to rely on place-specific values, pedagogies, philosophies, and epistemologies unique to Pacific Islanders. A third approach, focused on concrete activities, is also available to researchers, although this perspective has as yet sparked relatively little discussion. Activities-focused research illustrates what some continental scholars call “the practice turn” (Schatzki 2001). This approach generally de-emphasizes not only disciplinary concerns but also efforts to compose interpretations. Elements of all three approaches appear in much research focused on Oceania. Still, these perspectives differ enough to warrant thinking about them separately, especially since the choice of which to emphasize deter- mines so much about the research process and product that follows. Epeli Hau‘ofa’s shifting research foci provide illustration of the impact of per- spectival choice. Hau‘ofa began within a disciplinary perspective, com- pleting a dissertation and publications in anthropology, while teaching a range of social science courses at the University of South Pacific (see, eg, Hau‘ofa 1975, 1977, 1981, 1987). Later, in an influential series of essays (1993, 1997, 2000), Hau‘ofa shifted to what I am here labeling an inter- pretive perspective. In this work, Hau‘ofa drew more from indigenous thought than from disciplines, in part, he explained, because he could no 33 The Contemporary Pacific, Volume 18, Number 1, 33–55 © 2006 by University of Hawai‘i Press Three Competing Research Perspectives for Oceania Houston Wood 34 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) longer support the consequences of such heavy reliance on continental points of view (1993). In the past few years, Hau‘ofa has shifted his focus once again so that now, as director of the Oceania Centre for Arts and Culture, he emphasizes practices. While disciplines and interpretations remain a part of the work of the Oceania Centre, its primary purpose is to encourage the flourishing of contemporary visual and performing arts practices (Hau‘ofa 2003, 7). Hau‘ofa’s shifts in perspective also demonstrate the profound conse- quences that can result from choosing to emphasize one research per- spective over others. Through my examination of each of these perspec- tives I have come to believe that, in general, Hau‘ofa’s and others current focus on practices is preferable to discipline- and interpretation-based approaches. This evaluation, of course, reflects my own, perhaps idio- syncratic values. I judge research in large measure on how much it seems likely to promote diversity in Oceania, as well as on how much it supports place-based autonomies. Research that encourages the vigor of differences among people, languages, and practices generally seems more valuable to me than research that has no or negative effects on Oceania’s (and Earth’s) threatened multiplicities. Perhaps surprisingly, I do not evaluate research perspectives on the basis of how much they seem likely to create new knowledge, an explicit goal for many researchers. The notion that knowledge can or should grow with each new generation or project embodies what seems to me an unneces- sarily narrow view of both the nature and the value of knowledge. One could as easily imagine valuing most those research projects in Oceania that restrain or reverse the so-called growth of knowledge. Many people in the region value the knowledge of their ancestors more than what is considered new. Also, much of what is called new knowledge in the region tends to silence and demean precontact knowledge systems. But whether disciplinary, interpretive, and practice approaches to research tend to encourage or discourage the growth of knowledge is irrelevant to my cri- teria for judging these perspectives—that is, how much they encourage diversity and autonomy in the region. Indigenous and nonindigenous researchers with different values may rate these approaches differently. All would likely agree, however, that each researcher’s choice of theories, concepts, and methods shapes the eventual results. These pages aim to help clarify the consequences of choosing a disciplinary-, interpretive-, or practice-based point of view. wood • three research perspectives for oceania 35 The Discipline-based Research Approach Discipline-based approaches introduced by colonizers still dominate pro- fessional research throughout Oceania. Indeed, there would be very little formal research in the region if all research grounded in anthropology, communication, geography, economics, education, history, political sci- ence, psychology, sociology, and cultural and literary studies were to dis- appear. Inertia provides a partial explanation: Since most research has been based in disciplines for many decades, it is generally easier to repeat, with variations, projects like those that have already been done. Money is also an important factor. Funding agencies both within and outside the region generally reject proposals that do not invoke disciplinary theories and terms. Discipline-based research in the region also has the advantage of enabling Oceania’s researchers to communicate with other researchers who are associated with immense economies and governments on distant continents. Many well-intentioned researchers in Oceania continue with discipline-based projects to facilitate dialogue with powerful people on continents. These researchers aspire to speak disciplinary truths to power in hopes that elites will behave better toward the people in Oceania than they have in the past. Some researchers also continue to rely on their disciplines because they believe the associated theories, concepts, and methods provide a superior way of understanding reality. Timothy Ferris has described this as the faith that researchers have “come of age in the Milky Way” (1988). Physical and life scientists now think about reality in the same ways as all mature beings throughout the galaxies, according to Ferris. In mathematics, sci- entists employ a conceptual system that describes reality as it must uni- versally be described. Proponents of this view believe that mathematics is not culture bound, or even Earth bound, because mathematics is the lan- guage the universe speaks to itself. I have doubts about such claims for mathematics and for the natural sciences, but even if accepted, these claims do not seem to justify similar claims for the contemporary humanities and social sciences. Disciplinary research into human phenomena shows little evidence of having “come of age” in the Milky Way, in Oceania, or anywhere. Language, customs, groups, beliefs, and other human processes do not speak the language of equations, to their analysts or to their producers. As a consequence, the 36 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) theories, concepts, and methods that disciplinary researchers use to inter- pret Oceania remain in flux, contradictory, inconsistent, and often inco- herent. Conclusions about Oceania produced within the humanities and social sciences seldom last more than a few decades. For example, four of the most commonly employed concepts today—“identity,” “indigenous,” “globalization,” and “governance,”—were little used just fifty years ago.1 At that time, concepts such as “norms,” “evolution,” “development,” and “race” were common, though these descriptors are now generally dis- missed as outdated. Disciplinary approaches have their benefits, some of which are described above. But I do not think researchers should choose disciplinary over interpretive, practice, or other approaches on the basis of claims the human sciences possess superior ways of knowing. Multiple critiques of discipline-based perspectives have been offered for decades, both on continents and across Oceania. Especially prominent have been Michel Foucault’s descriptions of ways that disciplines function to limit the scope of possible research projects (see, eg, Foucault 1980). In Oceania, writers have pointed out that disciplinary divisions of knowledge misrepresent how most Pacific Islanders customarily experience their own worlds (see, eg, Gegeo and Watson-Gegeo 2001, 2002; Meyer 2003). Dis- ciplines that separate the spiritual from the political, literature from his- tory, or economics from psychology, for example, misconstrue how most people in Oceania live. Resorting to interdisciplinary approaches—the remedy chosen by some—does not solve the problems associated with dividing into parts what people experience as whole. The continuing dominance of humanities and social science research in Oceania would be troublesome, I think, even if it were clear that they do employ superior epistemologies. Every use of disciplinary concepts, theo- ries, and methods asserts not only that continent-based perspectives pro- vide the best ways to comprehend the people of Oceania, but also that all peoples in Oceania can be understood in much the same way. When dis- ciplines describe differences among peoples, they do so within a univer- salizing frame. So Marshall Sahlins (1995), for example, wrote a book about “how ‘Natives’ [Hawaiians] think,” not to answer questions about or for the benefit of Hawaiians, but for the benefit of anthropologists. Historians collect local histories throughout the region; literary research- ers study the oral, danced, and carved literatures; anthropologists investi- gate religions; political scientists examine the mechanisms of governance; psychologists seek the cognitive scripts; and so on. Each assumes their dis- wood • three research perspectives for oceania 37 cipline has prepared them to know one aspect of Oceania’s people. It is not acceptable for a discipline-based researcher to say, “Those people are so different from how I am trained to think that I cannot use concepts, methods, and theories developed elsewhere to understand them.” Unless researchers accept the possibility of such incommensurable differences, however, they cannot embrace a belief the other may be fundamentally unlike the researcher, and that deep and consequential human diversity really exists. Disciplines are part of the homogenization of the world. In asserting the ability to know, disciplines encourage their practitioners to form opinions about how others should live. Discipline-based research undermines place- based decision making about local cultural, economic, and political mat- ters. Because expert researchers tend to believe their theories, concepts, and methods provide universally appropriate knowledge, they often feel an ethical obligation to guide local peoples when these people confront issues that researchers believe they know much about. Discipline-based researchers also tend to subscribe to the view that educated elites gener- ally know what is best for a people, especially when momentous decisions must be made about economic investments, for example, or governmen- tal plans. It may be, then, that even those who believe their theories, concepts, and methods “have come of age in the Milky Way” may wish to cease producing discipline-based research. Researchers who desire an increased diversity in and local autonomy for Oceania will likely emphasize alter- native perspectives. Interpretation-based Research Dissatisfaction with Western-based disciplines helped spark interest in the interpretation-based approaches now increasingly embraced across Ocea- nia. Albert Wendt elaborated some of the rationale for this perspective in his pioneering essay, “Towards a New Oceania” (1976). Related calls were also made by those promoting the “Pacific Way” and the “Melanesian Way” (see Fortune 2000; Narokobi 1980). Hau‘ofa’s essays, mentioned earlier, increased interest in this approach, and interpreting Oceania through the use of indigenous concepts, theories, metaphors, and myths has become common in the last decade or so.2 I have been a proponent of this approach (Wood 1999, 2003), and I believe that research emphasiz- 38 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) ing Oceania-based interpretations generally promotes diversity and place- based sovereignty in the region better than discipline-based approaches do. Nonetheless, there may be reasons to resist making interpretation- based research the new dominant perspective across the region. There is, first, the problem that interpretations tend to be shaped by pressures for coherence. Many researchers are likely to be influenced by appeals to “rationality,” and so to seek interpretations that connect logi- cally or, at least, do not clearly contradict each other. Preferences for coherence, however, are more likely to reflect formal, written styles of thinking than the daily behaviors of the people being described. Interpre- tations may also be chosen for their apparent cohesiveness with other interpretations rather than for how closely they describe the phenomena observed. Interpretation-based research in general may thus tend system- atically to underestimate the heterogeneity and diversity that constitute what so many believe is most valuable about Oceania (see, eg, Wendt 1976; Hau‘ofa 1993; Teaiwa 2001a, 2001b). Interpretation-based research also faces the problem that it tends to lead to broader interpretations rather than more particular ones. Gener- alizing narratives are often considered to explain or subsume smaller nar- ratives. Associated with this are pressures to find a single best interpreta- tion, as if only one interpretation, myth, or theory could be correct. This quest is delightfully illustrated in Vilsoni Hereniko’s Woven Gods (1995). Though he also relied on discipline- and practice-based research strate- gies, Hereniko’s study is primarily structured as a search for the single best interpretation of Rotuman clowning, among the many candidates provided by anthropologists, Rotumans, and Hereniko’s own visions and dreams. Hereniko has produced a master interpretation that emphasizes a general Rotuman desire for harmony. His study relies on this to inter- pret clowning at Rotuman weddings as “a sanctioned performance by the ha . n mane‘a . k su that is potentially subversive of the status quo” (1995, 141). Though he acknowledged that Rotumans in general have little inter- est in such grand formulations (1995, 93), Hereniko used his master inter- pretation to explain many other activities in Rotuma as well. Hereniko concluded Woven Gods by undermining his claims. “Do I hear a clown laughing somewhere?” (1995, 141), he wrote, suggesting the book has been mocking his and other interpreting-selves throughout. Nonetheless, it seems to me that, more than offering comic subversions of the impulse to interpret, Woven Gods illustrates the distorting pressures wood • three research perspectives for oceania 39 that lead many researchers to produce generalizing stories. Even Here- niko’s subsequent feature film, The Land Has Eyes (2004), appears more to offer a revised version of the master narrative developed in Woven Gods than to ridicule those researchers who seek master interpretations. Of course, composing generalizing narratives, theories, and myths may be appropriate for many writers and speakers in many situations. Those who rely principally on interpretation-based research, however, face pres- sures to produce master narratives even when multiple smaller interpre- tations may better reflect how those they are working with actually expe- rience their worlds. Interpretation-based research also faces a problem of impermanence. Though this type of research generally aims to produce lasting interpre- tations, few research-based explanations last for long. Interpretations more frequently work like utterances in conversations: one interpretation leads to others, which lead to more interpretations, and so on. Sequences of both oral and written interpretations are important, of course, but researchers who emphasize interpretations usually desire to offer more than “just talk.” George Hu‘eu Sanford Kanahele’s Kü Kanaka, Stand Tall: A Search for Hawaiian Values demonstrates the difficulties (1986). This book of more than five hundred pages pioneered the sort of indigenous-based interpre- tations that have since become more common throughout Oceania. Kü Kanaka relies on diverse research methodologies to create lengthy inter- pretations of “traditional Hawaiian values, . . . [and] uncover the essence of the Hawaiian’s reason for living” (Kanahele 1986, 13). Kanahele first worked with about a hundred Hawaiians, “selected as to represent a cross- section of the Hawaiian community” (1986, 18). Kanahele developed a list of twenty- five core values and then drew on extensive written and oral sources to detail the meaning of these values for traditional and contem- porary Hawaiians. Along the way, Kanahele displayed impressive abili- ties as a researcher, writer, and interpreter. A quote from John Dominis Holt on the back cover of the book states, “A treasure, Kü Kanaka will provide us through the ages a source of mana and knowledge not previously found in a single book.” In fact, however, Kü Kanaka does not seem to have provided useful interpretations for even a decade, at least not for the researchers and writers with whom I am acquainted. Lilikalä Kame‘eleihiwa’s pathbreaking history, Native Land and Foreign Desires: Pehea Lä E Pono Ai (1992), published six years after 40 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) Kanahele’s book, also offers detailed interpretations of Hawaiian values but does not mention Kü Kanaka. Nor are Kanahele’s interpretations cited in later books by such influential Native Hawaiians as Manulani Aluli Meyer (2003), Jon Kamakawiwo‘ole Osorio (2002), Noenoe K Silva (2004), and Haunani-Kay Trask (1999). Nonindigenous researchers have similarly ignored the interpretations offered in Kü Kanaka; for example, Marshall Sahlins composed his 1995 book-length response to Gananath Obeyesekere’s 1992 volume contrasting Hawaiian and European values without referencing Kanahele’s earlier work. In the natural sciences, as I have suggested, one may be able to create cumulative formulations, but new interpretations of human actions in Oceania and beyond will likely be composed by new interpreters again and again. Later researchers’ disinterest in Kanahele’s long book seems typical of the fate of most research-based interpretations. “Each age,” as Ralph Waldo Emerson famously declared, “must write its own books” (1837). In the world of research interpreters, ages seldom seem to last even ten years. These problems—the pressures for coherence, the tendency to seek meta-narratives, the absence of cumulativeness—are troublesome, but not, I think, as serious as a fourth difficulty associated with interpretation- based projects. Researchers are generally not interested in interpretations as an end in themselves but rather as ways of explaining concrete human activities. Unfortunately, there is no clear relationship between interpre- tations and actual behavior. Getting an interpretation “right” does not provide definite knowledge about any specific action. Interpretations are often treated as causes, but this is based more on faith than on analysis or evidence. So, for example, no specific navigational, burial, dance, or other cultural practices can be derived from Kanahele’s or anyone’s interpreta- tion of Native Hawaiian values. After one observes a practice, it may be possible to say whether it fits an interpreted value. The reverse is not true, however; if one does not know a particular practice—if it is “lost”—then knowing its “values” will not lead to its recovery. Elise Huffer, alone and in collaboration with Ropate Qalo, is one of the few researchers in Oceania who has tried to formulate how interpretations may be connected to concrete behaviors (see Huffer 2005; Huffer and Qalo 2004). Like many in Oceania who are calling for more emphasis on interpretation-based approaches, Huffer began by rejecting disciplinary approaches because they reflect not a universal but only one particular cul- wood • three research perspectives for oceania 41 tural view. Instead, Huffer called for researchers in the region to work at helping people interpret and articulate their “political values and ethics” (2005, 133). Huffer articulated her perspective on the link between inter- pretations and actions. Using Samuel Fleischacker’s phrase (1994, 15), she wrote: “Ethics should be seen as an ‘action-guiding code’ . . . consti- tuted by people’s values, which are in turn nourished by their histories, traditions, and the changes they have experienced” (Huffer 2005, 131). According to Huffer, histories, traditions, and experience produce values; values lead to ethics; and ethics in turn direct the “action-guiding codes” that shape everyday behaviors. Constructing accurate interpretations of existing ethics and codes is important for Huffer because she believes these interpretations describe the causes of specific practices. Huffer’s work clearly states what I suspect is a common view among many researchers in Oceania. This view—that values and ethics produce codes that in turn cause behaviors—may be shared as well by many lay- people in the region. Still, I do not think it provides a master theory of behavioral causation that researchers should embrace uncritically. Inter- pretations about why people do what they do are probably better decided in the field, in consultation with the people studied. Huffer and Qalo have also argued that Oceania’s philosophies act as “building blocks” (2004, 107, 116). Even this less specific claim, how- ever, seems to me to grant too much power to interpreted ideas. Building in part on Qalo’s earlier research into the establishment of the Mucun- abitu Iron Works Cooperative Society in Fiji (Qalo 1997), Huffer and Qalo suggested that four values might be “common among many of us who call ourselves Pacific Islanders.” These values are veilomani, veikau- waitake, veivakaliuci, and veidokai, Fijian words Huffer and Qalo inter- preted respectively as (1) a genuine concern for one another; (2) caring and expressing concern for the well-being of others; (3) placing others ahead of oneself; and (4) honoring, respecting, and upholding someone (2004, 108). But it seems unlikely to me that any of these four or any other inter- pretations of Pacific values name causes of any specific behaviors. Even if interpreters were to agree, for example, with Huffer and Qalo’s formula- tion of veilomani as “a genuine concern for one another,” this formula- tion does not seem to name a “building block” from which any particular action would emerge. Huffer and Qalo’s interpretations of Fijian values recall interpretations of Christianity. This now widely disseminated tradition has also promi- 42 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) nently been claimed to be rooted in the value of “a genuine concern for one another,” a phrase often further interpreted by Christians to mean “love thy neighbor as thyself.” This and other supposed “core values” of Christianity, however, have not regularly acted as building blocks for any particular practices, no matter how or by whom the values have been interpreted. Christian core concepts of “love” have been claimed as cause for many horrendous as well as for many benevolent acts. It seems a mis- take in general, I suspect, to think that philosophies, values, beliefs, ideals, concepts, or codes are the source of particular actions. Interpretations display culture-bound understandings of practices; they do not produce them. Practice-based Research Through its focus on repetitive actions, practice-based research escapes most problems associated with both discipline- and interpretation-based perspectives. As mentioned, the Oceania Centre for Arts and Culture offers one prominent illustration of this approach (Hau‘ofa 2003), but some interest in practices has been part of most discipline- and interpre- tation-based projects for as long as there has been formal research in Oceania. In shifting their emphases to practices, then, most researchers will not have to learn new methods so much as to modify the thrust of their current and future projects. While interpretation-based research views abstract principles, philoso- phies, values, beliefs and the like as causes of behaviors, a practice-based perspective treats each interpretation as but one among many types of practice. Practices are researched not to help answer academic questions, as they are in discipline-based research. Nor are practices used as the basis for formulating abstract descriptions or analyses, as they are in interpre- tation-based approaches. Researchers who emphasize practices consider the activities of everyday life important enough by themselves to justify lifetimes of study. Hau‘ofa’s transformation from social scientist and interpreter of the region into facilitator of practices is emblematic of the change in research emphasis I am recommending. At the Oceania Centre for Arts and Cul- ture, Hau‘ofa and his colleagues are not much interested in either the dis- ciplines of art history and instruction or in formal interpretations of how their work fits into Pacific traditions. People at the Oceania Centre instead wood • three research perspectives for oceania 43 learn mostly through “observation and hands-on experience” (Hau‘ofa 2003, 8). In a cooperative setting, the Oceania Centre encourages “dif- ferent kinds of music, dance, art, ceremonies, and other forms of cultural production” (Hau‘ofa 2003, 17). “Painters, sculptors, dancers and musi- cians interact with and help each other” in ways that recall those Oceanic communities where the arts are a “matter of community-wide participa- tion” (Hau‘ofa 2003, 7, 8). Because the Oceania Centre is figuratively (and almost literally) a world unto itself, it may not be a practical model for most aspiring practice researchers. More typical of the practice-based approach in the region is the research of many who self-consciously engage in commingling con- temporary and traditional practices. Prominent examples are described in Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s Decolonizing Methodologies (1999), which exam- ines Mäori and other indigenous research practices; David Welchman Gegeo’s several studies focusing on the knowledge practices of one group of Solomon Islanders (1994, 1998; with Karen Watson-Gegeo 2001, 2002); Manulani Aluli Meyer’s reports on Native Hawaiian epistemological prac- tices (2001, 2003); as well as others, a few of which are discussed later in this article. Though the range of existing research is impressive, it likely marks but the beginning of much more practice-based work to come. Practices are patterned activities that can be recognized as normal and repeatable by the people who enact them. Practice-based research thus may focus on any practices found along a continuum from the informal to the formal. While informal practices may seldom be discussed self-con- sciously, formal practices often provoke analysis and debate by the people involved in their production. Some recent research into Hawaiian burial protocols illustrates the important work possible at the formal end of the practice continuum. Carolyn Këhaunani Cachola-Abad and Edward Hale- aloha Ayau have explained that caring for ancestral remains and burial sites has become increasingly important for contemporary Hawaiians (1999). Some view these sites and their associated objects as relics from the past and thus valuable primarily as opportunities for learning history. Others, however, treat these same sites and funereal objects as places of continuing obligation where traditional burial practices should be enacted. Through strictly following traditional protocols, it is believed “the ances- tral foundation is strengthened, the interdependence between past and present continues, and the land is reinfused with mana necessary to sus- tain the ancestors, the living and the generations to come. Ola nä iwi, the 44 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) bones live” (Nihipali 2003, b-1; see also Ayau and Tengan 2002). Prac- tice-based researchers can assist with the enactment of rituals, protocols, and similar formally prescribed behaviors in Hawai‘i and throughout Oceania. Practice-based research, however, will likely focus more often on the more common sets of informal practices associated with different peoples and places. Such practice-based research was extremely useful, for exam- ple, in the construction, launching, blessing, and navigating of the voyag- ing canoe Höküle‘a.3 In the decades since it first sailed, the Höküle‘a and its newer companion, Hawai‘iloa, have themselves become important research sites for further study of ocean-related practices. This and most other practice-based research demonstrates that, while something may be learned through creating interpretations, such “knowledge is meaningless unless practiced” (Ayau and Tengan 2002, 185). Enacting practices, as in caring for the dead, building canoes, and navigating the seas, offers much to the people of Oceania, whether accompanied by interpretations or not. Perhaps once a practice-based perspective becomes more prominent, earlier discipline- and interpretation-based research about Oceania will be revisited and found to be valuable in new ways. Hereniko’s Woven Gods (1995), mentioned earlier, for example, may one day be appreciated most for its descriptions of Rotuman clowning practices. Years from now, few may turn to Woven Gods to learn what anthropologists once thought about Rotumans, or to read Hereniko’s master narrative explaining Rotu- man behavior. In the future Rotumans and others may wish to know more about what Rotumans did in the twentieth century that distinguished them from other humans. Then Woven Gods’ recounting of clowning practices may provide a treasure trove of information about behaviors that can be learned nowhere else. The Practice Turn The increasing interest in practice-based research in Oceania reflects a broader transformation that Theodore R Schatzki, Karin Knorr Cetina, and Eike von Savigny labeled a “practice turn in contemporary theory” (2001). Those who emphasize practices generally reject the assumption that people live within self-organizing “systems” of beliefs, values, norms, and symbols. As Ann Swidler wrote, practice-based perspectives conceive of culture less “as a great stream in which we all are immersed and more wood • three research perspectives for oceania 45 as a bag of tricks or an oddly assorted tool kit containing implements of varying shapes that fit the hand more or less well, are not always easy to use, and only sometimes do the job” (2001, 24). Swidler further explained: “This image suggests that culture cultivates skills and habits in its users, so that one can be more or less good at the cultural repertoire one performs . . . like the pieces a musician has mas- tered or the plays an actor has performed. It is in this sense that people have an array of cultural resources upon which they can draw. We ask not only what pieces are in the repertoire but why some are performed at one time, some at another” (2001, 24–25). Different members master each aspect of the cultural repertoire to widely varying degrees. Every culture’s members, in addition, exhibit unstable commitments to enacting their bag of tricks. They make diverse and often unpredictable choices about when and how to use the oddly assorted ensemble of practices available to them. In Oceania today, of course, cultural repertoires include many practices introduced from continents. So, for example, in the Rotuman weddings that Hereniko described, Western wedding practices appear side by side with traditional ritual clowning. Similarly, Smith, Gegeo, and Meyer’s sep- arate studies of Pacific Islander practices (mentioned earlier) demonstrate that continental and Oceanic practices are often simultaneously available for use. This intermingling of practices with diverse origins constitutes an important focus for the region’s emerging practice studies. Teresia K Teaiwa’s PhD dissertation provides one approach for research- ing the mixed repertoire of practices that characterizes Oceania today (2001a). Teaiwa focused on how practices may be articulated, disarticu- lated, and rearticulated in different places throughout the region. While in some earlier studies Teaiwa emphasized Foucauldian notions of opposi- tion and resistance, her dissertation claims that, more often, Pacific Island- ers throughout Oceania actively appropriate and transform old colonial- ist practices, adding them to their repertoires in ways that make them “their own.” Teaiwa detailed, for example, how some native hierarchical practices based on race, caste, religion, and gender have been articulated with Western militaristic practices to create new, Oceanic-specific cultural ensembles. Teaiwa also explored ways that traditional Pacific Islander practices—for example dancing and ceremonial drinking—have been articulated with Western touristic practices to integrate the “old ways” within new places.4 Views of practices in Oceania as articulated, disarticulated, and reartic- 46 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) ulated highlight what Teaiwa has repeatedly referred to as the “fluid, mul- tiple and complex” nature of Pacific cultures (see, eg, Teaiwa 2001a, 77), a view that resonates with Swidler’s description of practice repertoires (2001). In cultures thus conceived, no “natural” connections, no basic beliefs, values, principles, or philosophies, and no master interpretations, reside in any imagined “core” of a people’s way of life. Teaiwa’s articu- lation model thus diverts the practice-based researcher’s attention away from worries about “authenticity” to study instead how ensembles of diverse practices get connected, disconnected, and sometimes reconnected, through both conscious and accidental choices made by people engaged together in specific, historical contexts. Thinking of people as defined by their practices also has the advantage of making it easier to think about similarities and differences between diasporic Oceanic groups and those who have remained nearer to their ancestral islands. Place of residence can have greater or lesser impact on a person’s available ensemble of practices. Interpretations as Practices Because interpretation is itself a type of practice, embracing practice-based research does not end either research-based interpretations or studies of the interpretations of others. The practice perspective does, however, shift the emphasis from internal meanings to embodied external activities, that is, from conceiving of interpretations as individual and psychological to examining them instead as performances and behaviors. For practice researchers, interpretation is but one among many acts available within a dynamic cultural repertoire. It is for the people themselves, and not researchers, to decide the relative importance of interpretive and noninter- pretive practices within each occasion of their use. Of course, researchers are usually more skilled at producing interpretations than at enacting many types of noninterpretive practices. Their mastery of interpretive practices enables researchers to advance in school and in their professions. It is a mistake, however, for researchers to assume that interpretations in general are more important for most people than are noninterpretive prac- tices. In some contexts, people may treat interpretations as being as con- sequential as they seem to be in a social science or humanities seminar room. For those same people at other times, however, noninterpretive practices will be much more significant. wood • three research perspectives for oceania 47 Ty Käwika Tengan’s PhD dissertation provides a useful example of one way to apply a practice-based perspective to researching interpretations (2003). Tengan reported on a group of approximately twenty-five to thirty-five Native Hawaiian men, the Hale Mua, of which he is a mem- ber. These men have been working for over a decade at redefining what it means to be Hawaiian. Drawing on his own experiences, as well as on formal and informal interviews, Tengan’s work offers a thick description of the group’s evolving repertoire of interpretive and noninterpretive mas- culinity practices. Tengan’s discussion of the discursive or interpretive practices performed by the men of the Hale Mua generally uses a Hawaiian word, “mo‘olelo,” which refers to stories, tales, myths, histories, literature, legends, narra- tives of any length, accounts, and all coherent successions of talk (Tengan 2003, 355). Newcomers to the Hale Mua are taught several forms of mo‘olelo practices, as well as how to recognize appropriate occasions for producing them. Tengan’s work occasionally adopts aspects of an inter- pretation-based perspective in explaining the meaning of these mo‘olelo, but its principle emphasis treats mo‘olelo as embodied practices. Tengan has detailed how the prescribed forms of mo‘olelo perform essential iden- tity work for the men. So, for example, telling personal stories in distinct ways at the correct moments helps transform the members from “ordi- nary” Hawaiian-Americans into a powerful group of contemporary Hawaiian men. As Tengan explained, speaking the appropriate mo‘olelo at the correct times creates connections between the men and “the land, the ancestors, and the larger Hawaiian lähui (people /nation)” (2003, 328).5 The men of Hale Mua also enact noninterpretive practices that, like their prescribed mo‘olelo practices, help to separate them from men who do not participate in the group. Common noninterpretive practices include types of exercise, martial arts, sparring, dance (ha‘a, not hula), ritual, chanting, praying, and woodcarving. For group members, these practices manifest what it is to be a Hawaiian male. So, for example, Tengan explained, “In the case of carving, they [the Hale Mua leaders] constantly reiterate that we are not only making a weapon but also perpetuating Hawaiian culture and carrying on the knowledge of our küpuna [elders]. Thus the importance lies not in what shape the wood ends up taking but rather [in] the fact that we go through the process and in so doing make our own mana” (2003, 230). The practices are constitutive of a living cul- 48 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) ture, not a memorial to one that is past, or a symbolic representation of its meaning. Through enacting the prescribed repertoire, members of Hale Mua transform themselves into a new type of Hawaiian man. Tengan has shown that interpretive and noninterpretive practices work similarly for participants. Though the Hale Mua puts a greater emphasis on noninterpretive practices, both types are considered necessary. Some- times the two types are enacted sequentially: members may first carve or chant, for example, then practice mo‘olelo. Sometimes, too, interpretive and noninterpretive practices intertwine, as during awa (kava) ceremonies, when ritual drinking and mo‘olelo practices are performed together. At such times, interpretive and noninterpretive practices enrich one another, and a mingling of interpretations and embodied actions is indeed much valued in the group. Kyle Ka‘ohulani Näkänelua, one of the leaders of the Hale Mua, explained in his interview with Tengan: “The elders have a language based on living what they [do], and speaking what they do. And so fortunately my grandmother is a native speaker, and they have a whole different way of thinking, and the language brings life to da work, and den da work gives life to da language, and when you separate the two, you lose something in da process” (2003, 298; emphasis in original). Näkänelua’s comments seem to suggest that noninterpretive practices invigorate lan- guage, mo‘olelo, and interpretations. When the latter are separated from material practices, the cultural repertoire is dangerously weakened. Tengan’s work shows how both the men of the Hale Mua and Tengan himself as a researcher deploy interpretive and noninterpretive practices as enactments of culture. Tengan has thus illustrated one way researchers can study interpretations in Oceania without falling back on an interpre- tation-based approach. His study is useful as well in the exemplary way it articulates itself as an interpretive practice. Tengan’s descriptions of most of the practices of the Hale Mua are not enactments of these practices themselves. His writing about carving, ritual, or dancing, for example, offers interpretations of embodied actions, but does not reproduce those practices. His dissertation does, however, enact one Hale Mua practice: it is a mo‘olelo, and one that Tengan hopes many in the Hale Mua will recognize as participating in the succession of storytellings the group encourages. Tengan described his research mo‘olelo as “only a fragment of the story, one that is told differently by each of the members that add their words to it. Yet it is one that would not exist without this multiplicity of voices and wood • three research perspectives for oceania 49 experiences, and it is in the collective telling that we make our mo‘olelo live” (2003, 345). Other reports of practice-based research, including this essay, can be similarly understood as performances that draw selectively from a collectively available repertoire. Practice-based reports do things within the communities in which they appear. So, as Tengan explained, the draft form of his mo‘olelo research report provoked much discussion, more mo‘olelo, within the Hale Mua. In the best of circumstances, other practice-based reports will call forth similarly enriching responses from the communities with which they are shared. Emphasizing Practices Not all people in Oceania or elsewhere likely deploy a worldview like that of the men of the Hale Mua, who conceive of practices much as prac- tice-based researchers do. Still, practice-based research can be adapted for cultural repertoires dominated by interpretations, for repertoires that emphasize noninterpretive actions, as well as for repertoires that feature diverse mixes of the two. My own choice of approach reflects a commitment to cultural diversity and local autonomy, values other researchers may not share. My choice also reflects my position as a settler intellectual in the nation of Hawai‘i.6 Though the examples I rely on here are primarily drawn from Pacific Islander researchers, I hope it does not seem that I am continuing the tra- dition whereby outsiders tell the native people of Oceania what they should do. I emphasize research by indigenous scholars because this work seems generally both the most exciting and the most valuable now avail- able in the region. Restricting my examples to nonindigenous researchers might have implied that the work of indigenous researchers is not as wor- thy of academic study. I mentioned earlier that some people in Oceania continue their disci- pline-based research in part because they believe that this discourse helps facilitate dialogue with powerful people on continents. Practice-based research may also increasingly encourage such dialogue, as more and more continental analysts are beginning to accept the idea that “Culture is a verb, not a noun, a process, not a thing in itself ” (Niezen 2003, 6). Under- standing culture as a dynamic process encourages research into cultures conceived of as collections of practices. Practice-based researchers in Oce- ania will be able to talk to researchers around the world, but their conver- 50 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) sations will center mostly on the articulation, disarticulation, and reartic- ulation of practices, rather than on disciplinary or interpretive concerns. Magnificently, the human inhabitants of Oceania are not alone in enact- ing practices here. Ancestors, spirits, gods, animals, fish, waves, winds, plants, stars, even places, as well as many other entities, manifest their own interpretive and noninterpretive practices. Shifting the focus of research from disciplines and interpretations to practices may enable researchers in the region to integrate the human and the nonhuman into single, unifying projects. The natural and human sciences, then, would no longer work separately, nor would researchers need to squirm when Oceania’s people point to invisibles as palpable presences.7 Few research approaches are likely to be pure; most will likely mingle the three perspectives described here, to greater or lesser degrees. Still, projects tend to emphasize a single perspective, so I hope these pages encourage researchers to better understand that the disciplinary, interpre- tive, and practice approaches promote not merely different ways of doing research, but different futures for Oceania as well. Notes 1 “Identity” was first widely used in the 1960s by social scientists in capital- ist countries as a part of their attacks on communism (Medovoi 2003); the con- cept of “globalization” owes much to some incidental amateur photographs made by the Apollo astronauts (Cosgrove 1994); both “indigenism” and “governance” became common as part of a general reconceptualization of the world by elites that took place after the collapse of the Soviet empire made their earlier binary schemes obsolete (Niezen 2003). 2 Linda Tuhiwai Smith provided an excellent summary of much of the work, especially by Mäori researchers (1999). See also Wood (2003) and the later dis- cussion for references to some interpretation-based research published after 1999. 3 Information and valuable reprinted articles can be accessed from the Poly- nesian Voyaging Society homepage at <http://www.pvs-hawaii.com/index.html>. 4 Tengan’s dissertation offers a related analysis of the articulation of Native Hawaiian warrior and sports practices into colonial figurations of masculinity (2003; see especially pages 64–79). 5 Geoffrey M White provided general descriptions of the importance of inter- pretive practices in enacting identities in Oceania (1991, 2000). Kame‘eleihiwa wood • three research perspectives for oceania 51 (1992), Osorio (2002), Silva (2004), and Kanalu G Terry Young (1998) have also detailed ways that Hawaiians use mo‘olelo in producing their culture. 6 J Këhaulani Kauanui has provided a useful overview of the relationship between the United States and the sovereign nation of Hawai‘i (2005). 7 Suggestions about how researchers can integrate research into the human and nonhuman can be found in the writings of Hau‘ofa (eg, 1993, 2000), of course, as well as in work by continental thinkers such as Bruno Latour (1993, 1999) and Donna Haraway (1991). Also see the suggestions contained in several of the essays about “spirits” in Oceania in Jeannette Marie Mageo and Alan Howard’s 1996 volume on that topic. References Ayau, Edward Halealoha, and Ty Käwika Tengan 2002 Ka Huaka‘i O Nä ‘Öiwi: The Journey Home. In The Dead and Their Possessions: Repatriation in Principle, Policy and Practice, edited by Cressida Forde, Jane Hubert, and Paul Turnbull, 171–189. New York: Routledge. Cachola-Abad, Carolyn Këhaunani, and Edward Halealoha Ayau 1999 He Pane Ho‘omälamalama: Setting the Record Straight and a Second Call for Partnership. Hawaiian Archeology 7:74–82. Cosgrove, Denis 1994 Contested Global Visions: One World, Whole-Earth, and the Apollo Space Photographs. Annals of the Association of American Geogra- phers 84:270–294. Emerson, Ralph Waldo 1837 The American Scholar. Address to the Phi Beta Kappa Society at Har- vard. 13 August. Ferris, Timothy 1988 Coming of Age in the Milky Way. New York: Morrow. Fleischacker, Samuel 1994 The Ethics of Culture. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Fortune, Kate 2000 The Pacific Way. In The Pacific Islands: An Encyclopedia, edited by Brij V Lal and Kate Fortune, 486–487. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Foucault, Michel 1980 Power/ Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings, 1972– 1977. New York: Pantheon. 52 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) Gegeo, David Welchman 1994 Kastom and Bisnis: Toward Integrating Cultural Knowledge into Rural Development in the Solomon Islands. PhD dissertation, Department of Political Science, University of Hawai‘i. 1998 Indigenous Knowledge and Empowerment: Rural Development Exam- ined from Within. The Contemporary Pacific 10:289–315. Gegeo, David Welchman, and Karen Ann Watson-Gegeo 2001 “How We Know”: Kwara‘ae Rural Villagers Doing Indigenous Epis- temology. The Contemporary Pacific 13:55–88. 2002 Whose Knowledge? Epistemological Collisions in Solomon Islands Community Development. The Contemporary Pacific 14:377–411. Haraway, Donna 1991 Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. New York: Routledge. Hau‘ofa, Epeli 1975 Anthropology and Pacific Islanders. Discussion Paper 8. Port Moresby: Institute of Papua New Guinea Studies. 1977 Our Crowded Islands. Suva: Institute of Pacific Studies, University of the South Pacific. 1981 Meke: Inequality and Ambivalence in a Village Society. Canberra: Aus- tralian National University Press. 1987 Introduction to Pacific Societies: Introduction to the Course and Assignments. Revised edition. Suva, Fiji: Extension Services University of the South Pacific. 1993 Our Sea of Islands. In A New Oceania: Rediscovering Our Sea of Islands, edited by Epeli Hau‘ofa, Eric Waddell, and Vijay Naidu, 2–16. Suva: University of the South Pacific. 1997 The Ocean in Us. Dreadlocks in Oceania 1:124–148. 2000 Epilogue: Pasts to Remember. In Remembrance of Pacific Pasts: An Invitation to Remake History, edited by Robert Borofsky, 453–471. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. 2003 Our Place Within: Foundations for a Creative Oceania. Forge Memo- rial Lecture, Australian National University, Canberra, 8 October. Hereniko, Vilsoni 1995 Woven Gods: Female Clowns and Power in Rotuma. Pacific Islands Monograph Series 17. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Center for Pacific Islands Studies and University of Hawai‘i Press. 2004 The Land Has Eyes. Feature film. Honolulu: Te Maka Productions. Huffer, Elise 2005 Governance, Corruption, and Ethics in the Pacific. The Contemporary Pacific 17:118–140. wood • three research perspectives for oceania 53 Huffer, Elise, and Ropate Qalo 2004 Have We Been Thinking Upside-Down? The Contemporary Emergence of Pacific Theoretical Thought. The Contemporary Pacific 16:87– 116. Kame‘eleihiwa, Lilikalä 1992 Native Land and Foreign Desires: Pehea Lä E Pono Ai. Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press. Kanahele, George Hu‘eu Sanford 1986 Kü Kanaka, Stand Tall: A Search for Hawaiian Values. Honolulu: Uni- versity of Hawai‘i Press. Kauanui, J Këhaulani 2005 Precarious Positions: Native Hawaiians and US Federal Recognition. The Contemporary Pacific 17:1–28. Latour, Bruno 1993 We Have Never Been Modern. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. 1999 Pandora’s Hope: Essays on the Reality of Science Studies. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Mageo, Jeannette Marie, and Alan Howard, editors 1996 Spirits in Culture, History, and Mind. New York: Routledge. Medovoi, Leerom 2003 Age and the Repressed Origins of Identity Discourse. Paper read at Cultural Studies Association (US) Conference, Pittsburgh, Pennsylva- nia, 5–8 June. Meyer, Manulani Aluli 2001 Our Own Liberation: Reflections on Hawaiian Epistemology. The Con- temporary Pacific 13:124–148. 2003 Ho‘oulu: Our Time of Becoming. Honolulu: ‘Ai Pohaku Press. Narokobi, Bernard 1980 The Melanesian Way. Boroko, png: Institute of Papua New Guinea Studies. Niezen, Ronald 2003 The Origins of Indigenism: Human Rights and the Politics of Identity. Berkeley: University of California Press. Nihipali, Künani 2003 Removing Bones and Burial Items Was an Act of Theft, Disrespect. Honolulu Advertiser, 25 May. Obeyesekere, Gananath 1992 The Apotheosis of Captain Cook: European Mythmaking in the Pacific. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Osorio, Jon Kamakawiwo‘ole 2002 Dismembering Lähui: A History of the Hawaiian Nation to 1887. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. 54 the contemporary pacific • 18:1 (2006) Qalo, Ropate 1997 Small Business: A Study of A Fijian Family—The Mucunabitu Iron Works Contractor Cooperative Society Limited. Suva: Mucunabitu Education Trust. Sahlins, Marshall 1995 How “Natives” Think: About Captain Cook, For Example. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Schatzki, Theodore R 2001 Introduction: Practice Theory. In The Practice Turn in Contemporary Theory, edited by Theodore R Schatzki, Karin Knorr Cetina, and Eike Von Savigny, 1–14. New York: Routledge. Schatzki, Theodore R, Karin Knorr Cetina, and Eike von Savigny, editors 2001 The Practice Turn in Contemporary Theory. Routledge: New York. Silva, Noenoe K 2004 Aloha Betrayed: Native Hawaiian Resistance to American Colonial- ism. Durham, nc: Duke University Press. Smith, Linda Tuhiwai 1999 Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous People. New York: Zed Books. Swidler, Ann 2001 Talk of Love: How Culture Matters. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Teaiwa, Teresia K 2001a Militarism, Tourism and the Native: Articulations in Oceania. PhD Dissertation, History of Consciousness, University of California, Santa Cruz. 2001b Lo(o)sing the Edge. Contemporary Pacific 13:343–358. Tengan, Ty Käwika 2003 Hale Mua: (En)Gendering Hawaiian Men. PhD Dissertation, Anthro- pology, University of Hawai‘i, Honolulu. Trask, Haunani-Kay 1999 From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawai‘i. Honolulu: University of Hawai‘i Press. Wendt, Albert 1976 Towards a New Oceania. Mana Review 1 (1): 49–60. White, Geoffrey M 1991 Identity Through History: Living Stories in a Solomon Islands Society. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 2000 Histories and Subjectivities. Ethos 28 (2): 493–510. Wood, Houston 1999 Displacing Natives: The Rhetorical Production of Hawai‘i. Lanham, md: Rowman and Littlefield. wood • three research perspectives for oceania 55 2003 Cultural Studies for Oceania. The Contemporary Pacific 15:340–376. Young, Kanalu G Terry 1998 Rethinking the Native Hawaiian Past. New York: Garland Publishing. Abstract Three research perspectives are currently competing in Oceania. A discipline- based perspective still dominates, though ever fewer people believe that disciplines produce superior forms of knowledge. An alternative, interpretation-based per- spective is becoming more prominent, but this approach relies on confusing and contradictory claims about how interpretations connect to concrete activities. A practice-based approach seems better able to promote diversity and place-based autonomies in Oceania. Research that focuses on practices avoids the universal- izing claims of discipline-based research. By treating cultures as dynamic reper- toires of practices, a practice-based approach integrates interpretive and noninter- pretive activities within a single research frame. Examples from many researchers, including Epeli Hau‘ofa and Ty Käwika Tengan, illustrate the benefits of a prac- tice-based approach. keywords: disciplines, Oceania, Pacific studies, practices, research 
work_ltehfw2s7rdwvnqslsjd42rk2e	----	Transcendental Trinitarian: James Marsh, the Free Will Problem, and the American Intellectual Context of Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection religions Article Transcendental Trinitarian: James Marsh, the Free Will Problem, and the American Intellectual Context of Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection Jonathan Koefoed Department of History, Belhaven University, 1500 Peachtree St., Jackson, MS 39202, USA; jkoefoed@belhaven.edu Received: 19 July 2017; Accepted: 8 August 2017; Published: 30 August 2017 Abstract: Historians of American religion and Transcendentalism have long known of James Marsh as a catalyst for the Concord Transcendentalist movement. The standard narrative suggests that the Congregationalist Marsh naively imported Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection (Am. ed. 1829) hoping to revivify orthodoxy in America. By providing a “Preliminary Essay” to explain Coleridge’s abstruse theology, Marsh injected Coleridge’s hijacked Kantian epistemology—with its distinction between Reason and Understanding—into American discourse. This epistemology inspired Transcendentalists such as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Bronson Alcott, and it helped spark the Transcendentalists’ largely post-Christian religious convictions. This article provides a re-evaluation of Marsh’s philosophical theology by attending to the precise historical moment that Marsh chose to publish the Aids to Reflection and his “Preliminary Essay.” By the late 1820s, the philosophical problem of free will lurked in American religious discourse—Unitarian as well as Trinitarian—and Marsh sought to exploit the problem as a way to explain how aspects of Trinitarian Christianity might be rational and yet unexplainable. Attending carefully to the numerous philosophical and religious discourses of the moment—including Unitarianism, Trinitarianism, Kant, Coleridge, and Scottish Common Sense—and providing close readings of the historical philosophers Marsh engaged, this article shows how James Marsh laid the epistemological groundwork for a new romanticized Christianity that was distinct from the Concord Transcendentalists, but nonetheless part of its historical lineage. Keywords: James Marsh; Transcendental; Romantic; Christianity; American religion; free will; Coleridge; Trinitarian; Unitarian; Scottish Common Sense; Kant 1. Introduction In 1834, prior to composing his many notable works, Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote to his brother. “Do you draw the distinction of Milton, Coleridge & the Germans between Reason & Understanding. I think it a philosophy itself & like all truth very practical” (Emerson 1939, p. 412).1 For Emerson, Reason was the faculty of intuitive perception, spiritual vision, religious experience, poetic creativity, aesthetic wonder, and heroic action (Emerson 1939, p. 413). The Understanding was the mind’s discursive and dissecting faculty—it “compares, contrives, adds, [and] argues”; it questioned Reason’s insights; and it functioned as a “wrinkled calculator . . . committed to the support of our animal life” (Emerson 1939, p. 413). Reason was a unique birthright of all human beings, akin to the Quakers’ inner light, and it served according to Robert Richardson as “the fundamental basis” of Emerson’s doctrine of self-reliance and his celebration of democracy (Richardson 1995, pp. 166–67, 185). The epistemological distinction 1 Ralph Waldo Emerson to Edward Bliss Emerson, 31 May 1834. Religions 2017, 8, 172; doi:10.3390/rel8090172 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel8090172 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 172 2 of 17 went beyond Emerson. According to Lawrence Buell this notion of a higher reason—sometimes going by different names—lay at “the heart” of the Transcendentalist movement (Buell 1973, p. 5).2 As scholars of Transcendentalism have long recognized, the reason-versus-understanding distinction had a specific lineage.3 It was Kantian language, co-opted by Samuel Taylor Coleridge and filtered in a precise historical way by the University of Vermont philosophy professor and president, James Marsh. In a “Preliminary Essay,” Marsh pressed Coleridge’s reason-versus-understanding distinction hoping to reconstitute Trinitarian Christianity in America. Whatever Marsh’s objective philosophical merits, the work proved influential beyond the Concord Transcendentalists. Coleridge’s Aids to Reflection had been available for several years, but between November of 1829 and February of 1830 Marsh’s edition sold all 1500 copies of its initial printing with the publisher soon asking for a second edition to meet demand (Duffy 1973, p. 108).4 Even as late as 1842, Emerson reported that demand for Aids to Reflection remained brisk at Andover seminary, one of the most influential orthodox seminaries in the country (Nicolson 1925, p. 41). Intellectual and religious history remembers Marsh primarily for publishing Coleridge and for inadvertently sparking the more religiously radical Concord Transcendentalists.5 Such a generalized understanding has caused the American intellectual historian James Turner to declare that Marsh is “an unjustly neglected figure in American intellectual history” (Turner 1985, p. 106). In the last thirty years since Turner no monographs or substantial syntheses of Marsh’s thought have appeared. Samantha Harvey has shown how Marsh’s educational thought and reforms had a long-term influence on American Pragmatism; Walter Conser has provided brief elaborations of Marsh’s connection to Germany, Marsh’s theories of language, and Marsh’s social theory; and John Beer has helpfully summarized much previous scholarship while highlighting the ongoing significance of Marsh’s edition of Coleridge’s Aids on both sides of the Atlantic (Harvey 2011, pp. 77–103; Conser 1986, pp. 259–66; Conser 1993, pp. 84–89, 123–29; Beer 1993, pp. cxvi–cxxviii). Turner’s call for more work on Marsh was remarkable, for the vast majority of scholarship on Marsh had already been published. Majorie Nicolson had set the stage for Marsh scholarship by outlining his basic philosophical position; naming but not exploring his philosophical influences; and framing him as the “founder” of the Transcendentalist movement and the sustainer of a “Vermont School of Transcendentalism” (Nicolson 1925, pp. 29–30, 34). Building on Nicolson, scholars tried to identify what it was that defined Marsh’s alternative transcendentalism: some argued that it was an evangelical Protestant liberalism; Peter Carafiol argued that it was Marsh’s commitment to conservative Puritan orthodoxy; Louis Feuer argued that it was Marsh’s political conservatism; and John J. Duffy suggested that it was a cultural conservatism that mourned the dissociated sensibility of the modern age, à la T.S. Eliot (Huntington 1892, pp. 28–30, 41; Buckham 1904, p. 316; Wells 1943, pp. 146–47; McGiffert 1969, pp. 437, 443–35, 452, 457; Carafiol 1975, pp. 128–30; Carafiol 1982, pp. xv, 5, 18–22, 49–50, 55, 59; Feuer 1958; Duffy 1970a, pp. 38–39).6 A few scholars have attended to Marsh’s educational vision and his influential reforms at the University of Vermont (Lindsay 1936; Lindsay 1954, pp. 129–68; White 1965; Swift 1972). And despite Turner’s lament, there have been several sustained philosophical treatments of Marsh (Wells 1943, pp. 14–48; Harding 1979; Carafiol 1982, pp. 34–84; Kuklick 1985, pp. 146–151). While all of these philosophical treatments have read Marsh closely and alongside Coleridge, only John Dewey and Henry Pochmann have provided sustained 2 I have refrained from capitalizing ‘Reason’ and ‘Understanding’ in this essay, for while Emerson did so, James Marsh generally did not, and Coleridge was inconsistent. 3 While a clearly definable set of criteria for Transcendentalism is elusive, I have followed the general convention to capitalize the term. On the question of definition see (Myerson 2000, pp. xxv–xxxvii). 4 James Marsh (JM) to Samuel Taylor Coleridge (STC), 24 February 1830. 5 For a few among many examples in the literature on Transcendentalism see (Miller 1978, pp. 34–35; Greenwood 1984, pp. 343–44; Harvey 2013, pp. 26–34). A more developed account of Marsh’s thought, but still framed fully as a precursor to Transcendentalism is (Gura 2007, pp. 47–53). For examples in American intellectual and religious history see (Perry 1984, pp. 219–20; Holifield 2003, pp. 436–37). 6 See the first four sources on Marsh’s theological liberalism. Religions 2017, 8, 172 3 of 17 readings of Marsh’s philosophy alongside the original writings of other historical philosophers so important to his context and project—in this case Kant and Aristotle (Dewey 1941; Pochmann 1957, pp. 131–43).7 This article seeks to extend and build on the previous philosophical studies of Marsh by providing a fresh reading alongside Kant and Coleridge and by looking more closely at many of the historical philosophers—Thomas Reid, Thomas Brown, Dugald Stewart, and Nathanial William Taylor—that were so central to Marsh’s project in its intellectual milieu. This essay argues that the key to Marsh’s influence and attraction in 1829 lay in his “Preliminary Essay” as a work of contextual philosophical theology. Attending to this work in historical-philosophical context reveals several parts of Marsh’s philosophical theology not yet fully understood. First, the interpretive key to the “Preliminary Essay” was Marsh’s quintessentially Romantic obsession with the liberation of the self—which for Marsh took the form of the philosophical free will problem appreciated only by a reflective inward gaze on one’s own mind (Fairchild 1974, pp. 208–9, 211, 217–18; Frye 1974, pp. 304–5, 308; Cranston 1994, pp. 13–14; Berlin 1999, pp. 8–10, 94–95; Breckman 2008, pp. 3, 6; Richardson 1995, pp. 184–85; Howe 1997, pp. 2–3, 189–91; Capper 2007, pp. xi–xii; Gura 2007, p. xv).8 While several scholars have noticed Marsh’s fear of determinism, this essay makes that fear central to interpreting Marsh’s “Preliminary Essay” (Wells 1943, pp. 38–43; Duffy 1973, pp. 15, 28; Harding 1979, pp. 241–42; Beer 1993, p. cxviii).9 Second, at the precise moment that Marsh chose to publish his “Preliminary Essay,” the free will problem had become critically important in the American intellectual tradition—particularly the Scottish Common Sense philosophy that grounded American thought. Third, Marsh’s attention to the free will problem made his project much closer to Immanuel Kant’s moral philosophy than is often recognized, suggesting that Marsh likely knew Kant and was a more synthetic thinker than is sometimes acknowledged. Fourth, Marsh’s use of the free will problem meant that he broke significantly with the Edwardsian and Calvinist traditions that dominated orthodoxy despite remaining a broadly orthodox Trinitarian. And finally, Marsh’s appeal was so widespread not only because of his attack on Scottish Common Sense, as we have long known, but also because he carefully chose his targets and rejected a point-by-point polemic against its two most important thinkers: Thomas Reid and Dugald Stewart. In fact, as we shall see, there were features of Reid and Stewart that worked in favor of Marsh’s polemic against his primary intellectual targets: John Locke, Thomas Brown, Jonathan Edwards and the American Edwardsian tradition, and the American Unitarians. In sum, by taking the frequent observation by scholars that Marsh feared determinism and understanding it as the interpretive key to Marsh’s entire philosophy and for understanding Marsh as a Romantic thinker, we gain a much better appreciation for Marsh’s philosophical theology and his purposes in promulgating it. We also gain a deeper historical understanding of the reason-versus-understanding distinction, its significance in its historical moment, and why the distinction proved so important to Transcendentalism. 2. Scottish Common Sense Scottish Common Sense philosophy—including its metaphysics, epistemology, and moral philosophy—dominated American philosophy from the American Revolution until Marsh’s time and beyond. In its most basic form, Scottish Common Sense postulated numerous intuitive principles in the mind by which humans ordered their experience. These were common sense principles that no rational person questioned. For Americans one of the primary attractions to Scottish Common Sense philosophy was its moral clarity and political suitability, especially as Scottish thought initially 7 For a brief exploration of Cambridge Platonism in its original sources see (Carafiol 1982, pp. 44–47). 8 Elaborating the literature that supports this sentence would require a historiography of Romanticism. The first five authors speak to the centrality of the self for European Romanticism; the latter four speak of the centrality of the self to American Romanticism. 9 Peter Carafiol identifies Marsh’s concern with free will, but relative to Marsh’s later writings, not the “Preliminary Essay,” and Carafiol links Marsh very closely to Jonathan Edwards on the question (Carafiol 1982, pp. 68–69). This essay distinguishes Marsh from Edwards on the question. Religions 2017, 8, 172 4 of 17 gained traction in the late-eighteenth century. A ubiquitous common sense simultaneously justified established communal moral and religious truths but did so in a rapidly changing political climate that emphasized the trustworthiness of the common man in political and moral matters. In the hope of creating a stable republic with the volatile, egalitarian logic of the Declaration of Independence and spreading popular political power, Common Sense philosophy relished well (Noll 2002, p. 113; Meyer 1972, p. 42).10 But although moral philosophy and political suitability were the strongest motivations for the wide adoption of Scottish Common Sense, by the time Marsh published his “Preliminary Essay” Thomas Reid and Dugald Stewart—by far the two most comprehensive Common Sense philosophers—had gained a more comprehensive purchase on the American mind. Two separate publishers from 1813–1815 and in 1822 issued Reid’s complete works in American editions, suggesting strong demand.11 In the 1820’s Stewart became standard—though not ubiquitous—reading in college courses on the philosophy of mind, and an American edition of his complete works debuted in 1829, simultaneous to Marsh’s “Preliminary Essay” (Snow 1907, pp. 122, 126, 129).12 Like Immanuel Kant in Germany, Scottish Common Sense philosophy was provoked by another Scot, David Hume. Hume undermined the empirical realism at the heart of British philosophy by arguing that if all knowledge ultimately derived from discreet, individual sense perceptions—as John Locke had essentially maintained—then much supposed human knowledge about the external world and its governing laws could not be justified. In particular, Hume argued that the law of causation, which grounded empirical science, could not be rationally explained. I may feel wind blow and I may see leaves fall from trees, but if each of these perceptions are truly discreet sense perceptions, all I can be sure of is a frequent coincidence between the two events. The father of Scottish Common Sense, Thomas Reid, responded that the mind possessed “first principles,” elsewhere called principles of common sense, which arose “from the constitution of our nature” (Reid 1813, p. 250). These were neither a product of reason nor of sensation, they were simply intuitive principles within the mind that structured the mind’s encounter with the world and with itself. Personal identity, causation, free will, space, time, the moral laws of conscience, mathematical axioms, the reliability of our physical sensations, our mental perceptions, and our memories were all principles that no rational person could function without. Therefore, they must be reliable, intuitive principles (Reid 1813, pp. 195, 199, 234–35, 250, 255, 283, 415–22; Reid 1814, pp. 33–38, 294, 328, 331, 338, 353; Reid 1815a, pp. 99–109, 135, 153, 159–74, 189–208, 398; Reid 1815b, pp. 215–18, 252–56). Reid also maintained that the existence of the external world and God’s existence enjoyed this status as a first principle (Reid 1813, p. 255; Reid 1815a, pp. 153, 158). In America, Reid’s system provided an adequate response to Hume and preserved numerous principles foundational not only to morality and politics, but also to American theology. Scottish Common Sense was an epistemological framework all parties could agree on while they argued primarily about the interpretation of the Bible and the role of reason in interpreting revelation. 3. Toward a New Epistemology: Marsh, Kant, and Common Sense The key to understanding Marsh’s “Preliminary Essay” is to recognize that while Marsh attacked the dominant epistemology, he never articulated a point-by-point critique of either Thomas Reid or Dugald Stewart, the two most comprehensive thinkers in the Scottish School. Instead, Marsh lumped John Locke, Thomas Brown, and the other Scottish writers together as members of a single British empiricism that had “been received in full faith, as the only rational system” and 10 On the Common Sense tradition in the American South see (O’Brien 2004, pp. 1008–1012); for an insightful discussion of the subtle use of Common Sense for political purposes in Thomas Paine’s work and moment see (Rosenfeld 2011, pp. 136–180, especially pp. 138–39, pp. 145–47). 11 The publishers were Samuel Etheridge Jr. of Charlestown in 1813–1815 and E. Duyckinck, Collins, and Hannay, and R. and W.A. Bartow of New York in 1822. 12 In 1820 the University of Pennsylvania still utilized “Locke’s Essays” for the “Science of the Mind” (Snow 1907, p. 139). The publisher of Stewart’s complete works was Hilliard and Brown of Cambridge, MA. Religions 2017, 8, 172 5 of 17 as inextricably intertwined with all American theology (Marsh 1829, p. xlv). Marsh’s objection had several components. First, although Reid’s and Stewart’s epistemology was now fully available, Marsh thought that most American writers used an appeal to “common sense” as a dodge around complicated philosophical questions (Marsh 1829, p. xxii). Second, Scottish Common Sense failed to provide any rational defense for the traditional Christian doctrines of Trinity and Incarnation. Reid and Stewart understandably never touched the issue; they were philosophers attempting to combat Humean skepticism, not theologians interested in defending controversial doctrines. But the problem went deeper: the methodological appeal to common sense on esoteric questions such as free will or the existence of the external world worked against any attempt to explain the paradoxical Christian doctrines as rational. According to Marsh, the prevailing philosophical system was “at war with orthodox views of religion,” and he claimed many orthodox theology professors had admitted as much privately (Marsh 1829, p. xlv). Finally, Scottish Common Sense vitiated “everything distinctly spiritual” in Christianity (Marsh 1829, p. xlvii). It gave no account of or inducement to spiritual experience—as would Coleridge’s and Emerson’s epistemology—and its overly rationalistic emphasis on Baconian induction in mental philosophy created an unsympathetic atmosphere to spiritual insight, whether of the religious or aesthetic variety. On the question of reason, Marsh introduced his and Coleridge’s most enduring distinction: the quasi-Kantian distinction between reason and understanding—which so fired the Transcendentalists. But why was this distinction necessary? For Kant the distinction served, among other things, to give an account of the relationship between causation and human free will. Kant’s distinction between phenomenal perception of the world—organized as it was by the categories of the understanding—and his postulating a noumenal world of things in themselves to which humans did not have direct access, allowed him to eventually give an intriguing response to the most bedeviling problem in philosophy, namely the free will problem. If causation was a category of the understanding, and may or may not exist in the way we conceive of it in the noumenal world, then free will might in fact be at play despite the understanding’s inability to properly perceive or articulate free will since the understanding always insisted on organizing all experience and perception as cause-and-effect (Adams 1998, pp. ix–x). On the other hand, for Kant the practical (moral) reason established free will as unquestionable, for without it such moral notions as praise, blame, guilt, desert, and justice itself held little meaning. This was not very different from Scottish Common Sense, which maintained that causation and free will were both common sense, intuitive principles in the mind. On the precise status of these intuitive principles, however, the Scottish tradition was less than clear. Thomas Reid was more interested in laying out a substantial list of first principles than in carefully explaining their relationship to one another. For Reid, causation was a “metaphysical first principle” while free will was a “contingent first principle”; there were “physical laws of nature” and “moral laws of nature” (Reid 1815a, pp. 170–72, 191, 194–208; Reid 1815b, p. 284). The latter applied to rational agents only. But elsewhere, Reid seemed to suggest that the idea of causation arose from a more fundamental sense of our own free will as causative agents; thus it was not clear whether the metaphysical principle of causation was actually derived from the more fundamental contingent first principle of free will (Reid 1815b, pp. 386–90). He also maintained that the belief that no one should be blamed for an action if they had not the power to prevent it was a “moral first principle,” but he did not explain whether this moral first principle could also be derived from the contingent first principle of free will (Reid 1815a, p. 191). In the end, the Scottish tradition tended to, in D.H. Meyer’s words, “confuse matters of fact with matters of logic, of value, and of faith; and there was always the temptation to overextend oneself in claims to certainty” (Meyer 1972, pp. 39–40). It was this confusion that Marsh sought to exploit in order to introduce a new quasi-Kantian way of talking about the mind. Reid’s first principles were an effective response to Hume, especially for American intellectuals largely unconcerned with epistemological technicalities, but Kant thought otherwise. Reid’s frequent positing of different kinds of first principles led Kant to accuse proponents of Scottish Common Sense of being unable to justify their list of first principles or explain their relationship in the human Religions 2017, 8, 172 6 of 17 constitution (Malherbe 2003, pp. 310–11). The Scots, particularly Dugald Stewart and Thomas Brown, responded by labeling Kant an unoriginal jargon monger, although behind the scenes Stewart seemed to take Kant’s criticisms of Reid seriously (Mortera 2012, pp. 125–26, 135; Friday 2005, pp. 275–85). According to Marsh, Stewart had swept the field in America as Stewart’s History of Philosophy effectively scared off Americans from reading Kant and the German idealists (Duffy 1973, pp. 80–81).13 Although in the end the Scots had a great deal in common with Kant, a strong language barrier—Kant did not read English and Stewart did not read German—and national chauvinism conspired to forestall much productive engagement until the later Scots James Mackintosh and William Hamilton began to rectify the situation (Malherbe 2003, pp. 299–301; Mortera 2012, pp. 126, 135).14 What made Marsh so significant in American intellectual discourse in 1829 was that his “Preliminary Essay”—with its reason-versus-understanding distinction and its obsession with the free will problem—stood at the center of a much larger Anglo–Germanic philosophical debate. 4. The Fraying of the Edwardsian Tradition: American Philosophical Theology in the 1820s The key to understanding what Marsh thought he was doing lay also in the American historical context. Between 1827 and 1829, four important texts emerged that suggested that the union between American theology and Scottish Common Sense had run into trouble, at least on the free will problem. These texts were Thomas Upham’s Elements of Intellectual Philosophy (Upham 1827), Levi Hedge’s condensed edition of Thomas Brown’s A Treatise on the Philosophy of the Human Mind (Brown 1827), Nathaniel William Taylor’s Concio ad Clerum (Taylor 1842), and Dugald Stewart’s Philosophy on the Active and Moral Powers of Man (Stewart 1829).15 The importance of these texts will become clear in the following discussion. For some time the orthodox Congregationalists and Presbyterians had become vulnerable to charges by Unitarians that Calvinist doctrines of depravity and arbitrary election undermined what the Unitarian spokesman William Ellery Channing called “the moral perfection of God” (Channing 1843, p. 82). A God who knew full well that humanity would be corrupted by Adam’s sin, chose to create, and then still held people accountable to a standard they had no way of fulfilling could not be just. On the Calvinist system, God provided salvation to be sure, but only for an elect, seemingly arbitrary number. For emphasis, Channing pressed home the effects of this system: “It tends to discourage the timid, to give excuses to the bad, to feed the vanity of the fanatical, and to offer shelter to the bad feelings of the malignant . . . shocking as it does the fundamental principles of morality, and . . . exhibiting a severe and partial Deity” (Channing 1843, p. 87). In other words, Channing thought that the orthodox position was clearly contrary to reason. The orthodox felt the sting, and just prior to Marsh’s “Preliminary Essay,” the Yale professor Nathaniel William Taylor began to articulate an alternative orthodox position that culminated in his Concio ad Clerum (Taylor 1842). Taylor insisted that human beings had thorough free will, and that human nature was not inherently depraved, even by the effects of Adam’s fall. Humans had a “disposition or tendency” to sin that was not in itself sinful, but this disposition in their nature meant “that in all the appropriate circumstances of their being, they will sin and only sin” (Taylor 1842, pp. 8, 15). Because of Adam’s fall, all humans would inevitably sin at the earliest possible chance when coming into a sinful world, but they were not compelled to do so. While Marsh agreed in principle with Taylor’s cautious liberation of the will, there were several features of Taylor’s position which would pose problems for Marsh’s Coleridgean approach. First, Taylor grounded his philosophy fully on Scottish Common Sense, and methodological appeals to common sense could only undermine the reasonability of Christian doctrines like the Trinity.16 Taylor 13 JM to STC, 21 March 1829. 14 For a helpful comparison which sees both Kant and Common Sense as very similar see (Ameriks 2005, especially pp. 23–30). 15 Stewart’s work appeared in both Edinburgh and Boston editions in 1828. 16 On Taylor and Common Sense, see (Holifield 2003, p. 355). Religions 2017, 8, 172 7 of 17 himself seemed to sense that Trinitarians were faring poorly in these debates with Unitarians (Holifield 2003, pp. 347, 355). Second, Taylor was too committed to the Edwardsian tradition, citing Edwards more than any other theologian in defense of his doctrine of salvation throughout his writings (Sweeney 2003, p. 117).17 In the Preface to his Concio ad Clerum, Taylor claimed that his views did not differ from his Yale mentor Timothy Dwight—“his revered instructor in theology” (Taylor 1842, p. 3). Dwight had always remained faithful to Edwards, believing that free will did not require actual self-determination or the ability to choose between competing desires (Holifield 2003, p. 352). Marsh had little interest in fidelity to Edwards or the Edwardsian tradition, and his “Preliminary Essay” sought to undermine much of the Edwardsian scheme as well as the Scottish Common Sense philosophy allied to it. Marsh lauded developments in theology like Taylor’s, but for opposite reasons. Taylor sought to rescue and update the Edwardsian tradition; Marsh thought Taylor’s ideas likely “to shake the authority of Edwards among [the orthodox]” (Duffy 1973, p. 80).18 Indeed, by publishing and promoting Aids to Reflection, Marsh was stoking the fire. In Aids Coleridge mercilessly attacked Jonathan Edwards as a determinist, labeling him worse than even Luther and Calvin because of Edwards’ cool, single-minded commitment to such an odious idea. Coleridge blamed Jonathan Edwards for solidifying a logically magisterial but hopelessly stringent Calvinist determinism—a backhanded tip of the hat to the backwoods philosopher’s great but misdirected intellect. As if to mock any rehabilitation of Edwards, Coleridge declared that compared to Luther’s or Calvin’s “captive and enslaved Will” Edwards proffered “no Will at all” (Coleridge 1829, pp. 105–7).19 When Marsh published his “Preliminary Essay,” there were serious problems as well in fusing Scottish Common Sense and the Edwardsian tradition. In 1828 Dugald Stewart finally provided a sustained discussion of free will in an appendix to his Philosophy on the Active and Moral Powers of Man (Stewart 1829), after putting off the project for most of his career. In the appendix, Stewart dismissed Edwards as the most able necessitarian philosopher in recent memory but guilty of “the most dangerous errors of Hobbes and his disciples” (Stewart 1829, p. 585). Stewart’s clear assault upon Edwards, delivered in the same year as Taylor’s Concio ad Clerum, showed the serious cracks between philosophy and theology in New England. It was Stewart upon whom Taylor drew most especially in his philosophy (Holifield 2003, p. 355). These fractures suggested that orthodoxy’s attempt to ground its theology on Common Sense philosophy was at least unstable and perhaps impossible. Since Marsh was not dogmatically committed to all facets of traditional Puritan orthodoxy, he might have embraced Stewart’s insistence on free will and moved on. But Marsh seems to have worried not only that Common Sense provided no account of or inducement to spiritual experience or a framework for assenting to the doctrines of the Trinity and Incarnation, he also worried that Common Sense as an intellectual tradition was itself wearing thin, evidenced by its recent and highly-lauded scion, Thomas Brown. 5. Free Will and the Problem of Thomas Brown While Marsh criticized Calvinist orthodoxy, his primary target was the Unitarians as he sought to turn the discussion of free will back on them. His strategy was to embrace the Unitarian moral critique of Calvinist determinism so as to wield it against them and attempt to vindicate the other orthodox doctrines they attacked. To be sure, Marsh conceded, the Unitarians asserted that free will existed, but they could give no consistent account of it. The precipitating issue for Marsh was the surging popularity of Thomas Brown, a scion of Common Sense who harbored Humean skeptical 17 Holifield agrees that Taylor was trying merely to correct an overemphasis on human dependence in the Edwardsian tradition, but was still a Calvinist (Holifield 2003, p. 354). 18 JM to STC, 23 March 1829. 19 Marsh was aware of how offensive this would be to his audience, and he attempted to channel his readers’ objections to other parts of the Aids to reinforce the need for Coleridge’s overall epistemology, see Marsh’s Note 45 in (Coleridge 1829, pp. 282–83). Religions 2017, 8, 172 8 of 17 sympathies about religion, leaned heavily toward determinism on questions of causation, subtly attacked Dugald Stewart by attacking Thomas Reid, and according to both contemporary and later critics was a proto-Comtean positivist (Dixon 2003, pp. 109–16).20 What flummoxed Marsh was that despite these many problems, Unitarians seemed to blithely embrace Brown, suggesting serious problems with their philosophical-theological synthesis. In 1827, two of the first American college textbooks on the philosophy of mind appeared, both of which praised Brown and utilized him extensively. The Unitarian Levi Hedge edited and released Brown’s Philosophy of the Human Mind in two volumes to be used “as a textbook in seminaries of education” for which purpose, Hedge insisted, “it possesses on many accounts, pre-eminent claims” (Brown 1827, pp. 1:v–vi). Till that point, Hedge’s Elements of Logick had provided what Daniel Howe has called “the definitive presentation of the Scottish theory of knowledge" for the Unitarians (Howe 1970, p. 33). Brown’s appeal was not limited to the Unitarians, although in adopting him as the primary textbook on the philosophy of mind they seemed most favorable to him. Among the orthodox, Thomas Cogswell Upham—a professor at Bowdoin College—published Elements of Intellectual Philosophy (Upham 1827), which drew on Locke, Stewart and Brown. Of Brown, Upham declared: “Unhappily for the science [of intellectual philosophy] he was cut off from life before he was permitted to complete and give to the world in his own name his analysis of the mind. Had he lived, hardly too much could have been expected” (Upham 1827, p. 200). Marsh wondered how American philosophy, particularly the Unitarians, could embrace Thomas Brown so heartily, and Marsh pushed the issue in his “Preliminary Essay.” According to Marsh, Brown maintained that “the same law of cause and effect is the law of the universe” and that these laws applied equally to “the moral . . . no less than to the properly natural powers and agencies of our being” (Marsh 1829, p. xxx). Thus, Marsh concluded that Brown’s system still maintained that “[t]he acts of the free-will are pre-determined by a cause out of the will, according to the same law of cause and effect . . . The notion of a power in the will to act freely, is therefore nothing more than an inherent capacity of being acted upon, agreeably to its nature, and according to a fixed law, by motives which are present in the understanding” (Marsh 1829). Writing to Coleridge, Marsh emphasized his gambit, “the Unitarians, while they reject [Jonathan] Edwards and treat him with severity for his Calvinism . . . give currency to Brown for views that would seem to lead to what is most objectionable in [Edwards’s] work on the Freedom of the Will” (Duffy 1973, p. 80).21 For Marsh, either the Unitarians were closet determinists or they were glibly unaware of the problem. But was this characterization fair? Apparently referencing Hedge and Upham, Marsh declared: “I feel authorized to take this statement partly from Brown’s philosophy, because that work has been decidedly approved by our highest theological authorities” (Marsh 1829, p. xxx). Hedge’s earlier Elements of Logick gave no hint about how human free will might function, and Hedge’s edition of Philosophy of the Human Mind gave no further illumination. As for Thomas Brown, in the crucial section on “Power, Cause, and Effect,” Brown argued that no agencies or “powers” existed distinct from their substance; substances were bound by the law of cause and effect; and Brown argued that people ascribed “power” to substances outside of the chain of causation because their senses could not perceive the full complexity of the chain of cause and effect (Brown 1827, pp. 42–46). Humans were clearly substances in Brown’s system, and the only concession Brown gave to a will outside the chain of causation was God’s. Brown gave no thorough account of how human will might be free of the law of cause and effect. In his final edition of Inquiry into the Relation of Cause and Effect (Brown 1835), Brown avoided the words “free,” “liberty,” and “power”; he criticized Thomas Reid’s claim that one could will against one’s desires; and he seemed to sink all notions of human agency into internal desires 20 Dixon has suggested that Brown’s account of causation was similar to Hume’s skepticism about the matter, but as will become clear in the following discussion, Brown seemed more inclined toward determinism than skepticism on the question. 21 JM to STC, 23 March 1829. Religions 2017, 8, 172 9 of 17 without explaining where these desires came from and how in the end they differed from mechanical causation (Brown 1835, pp. 38–39, 45–48, 52–55, 59–62, 74–76, 361–62). Marsh had found a chink in the Unitarian philosophical armor. As Daniel Walker Howe has observed, “The student who seeks for a comprehensive Harvard Unitarian refutation of Edwards . . . is disappointed. In fact, antebellum Harvard moralists devoted remarkably little energy to the issue of free will, either as a logical or a psychological problem. . . . So they were content to accept the freedom of the will . . . as a principle of common sense, and declare that it required no proof” (Howe 1970, pp. 67–68). Marsh wondered why a movement that constantly invoked “reason” against the orthodox Calvinists could not only fail to develop a nuanced response to Brown’s determinism when adopting Brown’s epistemology, but also fail to even read Kant’s and Coleridge’s different responses to the problem. The emigrant professor of German literature at Harvard, Charles Follen, patiently explained to Marsh that it would take some doing to supplant “the genteel and palatable philosophy of Brown” (Duffy 1973, p. 126).22 6. Reason versus Understanding Like Common Sense, the scheme Marsh proposed believed in the intuitive truth of free will and causation, but by relying on the Kantian terminology of reason versus understanding and making them different functions of the mind, Marsh hoped to redraw the lines of intellectual discourse and push the Unitarians to reconsider their own definition of reason. For Marsh, the intuitive principles of the understanding differed only in degree from the way that animals perceived and interacted with the world, whereas those arising from reason differed in kind (Marsh 1829, pp. xxxix–xliii). The understanding could “abstract and generalize, and fore-cast events, and the consequences of our actions, and compare motives,” and among other things it allowed human beings to intuit the law of cause and effect to get along in the physical world (Marsh 1829, pp. xxxiii, xl). On the other hand, reason distinguished human beings from brutes by revealing necessary mathematical truths, the moral law of conscience, self-consciousness, and the ideas of the soul, free will, immortality, God, and a spiritual realm fundamentally different from the physical world (Marsh 1829, p. xlii). (In the structure of the argument, the latter three came only after deep reflection on the first five.) Marsh’s reason-versus-understanding distinction certainly differed from the numerous first principles and categories of first principles posited by Scottish Common Sense, but Marsh seemed uninterested in providing a point-by-point polemic against Reid and Stewart and their list of intuitive principles. By refusing to be drawn in to such a polemic and by focusing instead on his primary targets—Locke, Brown, the Unitarians, free will, and the reason-versus-understanding distinction—Marsh allowed his readers to graft whatever Common Sense principles his readers wished into his new epistemology. As Marsh’s “Preliminary Essay” was not a comprehensive philosophical treatise, he seemed more concerned with reinventing the intellectual discourse about reason to ward off Unitarian assaults and pave the way for a more thorough and more “spiritual” philosophy that could still in some sense be called “rational.” He took his friend Ebenezer Tracy’s advice, which Marsh quoted in the “Preliminary Essay” itself: “If you can once get the attention of thinking men fixed on this distinction between the reason and the understanding you will have done enough to reward the labor of a life” (Duffy 1973, p. 97).23 But the key to establishing this distinction was still the free will problem. Like Kant, and unlike Reid, Marsh wanted to make free will not just a first principle of the mind, but a higher first principle of seminal intellectual, spiritual, and emotional importance. Marsh seized upon the free will problem as his primary argument for publishing Aids. “Turn the matter as we will,” insisted Marsh, “so long as we refuse to admit the existence in the will of a power capable of rising above this law [of cause and effect], and controlling its operation by 22 Charles Follen to JM, 14 April 1832. 23 Ebenezer C. Tracy to JM, 28 October 1829. Religions 2017, 8, 172 10 of 17 an act of absolute self -determination, so long we shall be involved in perplexities both in morals and religion” (Marsh 1829, p. xxxiii). Marsh thought that establishing self-determination required a new way of speaking about the mind, and Marsh saw in Coleridge’s system a way for addressing the issue. “The key to [Coleridge’s] system will be found in the distinctions, which he makes and illustrates between nature and free-will, and between the understanding and reason” (Marsh 1829, p. xv). As we have seen, Reid had already made the distinction between nature and free will, but Marsh sought to exploit the distinction to explain how certain religious doctrines might be rational and yet unexplainable. “Admitting the power to originate an act or state of mind may be beyond the capacity of our understandings to comprehend,” Marsh declared, “it is still not contradictory to reason; and that I find it more easy to believe the existence of that, which is simply incomprehensible to my understanding, than of that which involves an absurdity for my reason” (Marsh 1829, p. xxxiii). As Marsh saw it, beliefs could be incomprehensible and still not be absurd. One might even be unable to articulate a belief in the categories of the understanding, but it still might be rational to hold such a belief. 7. Marsh, Kant, and Practical Reason Like Kant, Marsh’s moral philosophy and definitions of reason passed through the free will problem. It is quite possible that Marsh obtained his insight into free will directly from Kant. He had begun reading Kant as early as 1821; until at least 1823 he possessed a volume of “Kant’s Philosophy”; he was fluent in German and translated German texts in the 1820s; and most tellingly he requested all four volumes of Kant’s Vermischte Schriften (1799) four months prior to publishing the “Preliminary Essay” (Torrey 1843, pp. 37, 43; Marsh 1823; Duffy 1973, p. 93).24 While there is no direct record of Marsh reading Kant’s Groundwork for the Metaphysic of Morals (1785) or Kant’s Critique of Practical Reason (1788), it seems likely that Marsh knew these much more important texts if he sought insight in Kant’s miscellaneous essays just prior to publishing the “Preliminary Essay.” These Kantian texts in moral philosophy were more well known, they had been in print longer, and they spoke directly to Marsh’s argument. What is clear is that like Kant, Marsh used the free will problem as the lynchpin in his argument. Kant distinguished not only between reason and understanding, but also between two types of reason, speculative reason and practical reason (Kant 1996a, p. 211).25 Speculative reason was involved in the construction of more elaborate ideas and theories than those furnished by the understanding’s twelve categories (including concepts such as causation, substance, unity, plurality, etc.). When functioning properly, speculative reason organized the categories of the understanding when constructing scientific theories, but it did not directly receive sense data, therefore speculative reason required a return to sensuous impressions for empirical verification (Wartenberg 1992).26 The understanding and the speculative reason, functioning together, were what philosophers generally call ‘reason’—the ability to organize, interpret, and construct arguments based upon evidence. But Kant went further, provoked by Hume and the problems of causation and free will. Kant, like the Common Sense philosophers, insisted that science could trust its fundamental reliance on the law of cause and effect because this law was an embedded category of the understanding, of the mind itself. 24 JM to George Ticknor, 26 July 1829. In March of 1829, Marsh wrote Coleridge to confess his indebtedness to Coleridge in helping him to understand Kant (JM to STC, 23 March 1829 in Duffy 1973, p. 80). But Marsh did not elaborate on the exact nature of the intellectual debt and Marsh’s genuflection to Coleridge is difficult to interpret. As an unknown American, he was writing to the great poet for the first time, and the tone of the letter is ingratiating. While scholars often take the letter as evidence that Marsh knew nothing of Kant beyond what Coleridge taught him, Marsh’s intent to consult Kant’s miscellaneous essays prior to publishing Aids and after the letter to Coleridge suggests more knowledge of Kant than Marsh let on. 25 As will become clear, it is important to note that both are the same cognitive faculty of “pure reason”: “Now, practical reason has as its basis the same cognitive faculty as does speculative reason so far as both are pure reason” (Kant 1996a, p. 211). 26 See especially pp. 228–33. Religions 2017, 8, 172 11 of 17 The mind imposed order on sense impressions derived from the natural world, and causation was one of its most important and thoroughly reliable categories. However, Kant also maintained that since causation existed in the mind itself, the mind never had full access to things in themselves (or as he termed it the noumenal world) but only to its organized perceptions (phenomena) of the world. In the Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals (1785) and the Critique of Practical Reason (1788), Kant used his complicated epistemology from the Critique of Pure Reason (1781, 1788) to explain how reason accounted for the seeming contradiction between natural causation and human free will (Kant 1996a, p. 218). Kant agreed with the vast majority of philosophers that reason and conscience provided a reliable guide to ethical action, but he criticized other moral philosophers who “maintain[ed] the mechanism of the will in deeds, but its freedom in words” (Kant 1996a, p. 219). He insisted that reason, when applied to morality (practical reason), unyieldingly mandated freedom of the will—this conclusion was as sure as any other conclusion that reason could form. But how could free will be reconciled with the seeming ironclad law of cause and effect? Kant had already argued that causation, and indeed time and space itself, were categories imposed on reality by the understanding and were not necessarily properties of objects and relations in the noumenal world (things in themselves).27 Thus, time, space, and causation could be compatible with free will functioning in the noumenal world, while phenomenal perception and the understanding’s ability to articulate this compatibility would always be undermined by the constraints of time, space, and causation. Again, there were great affinities with Reid and Stewart, who essentially maintained that causation was a first principle that applied to the external world while free will was a first principle that applied to the mind (Reid 1813, p. 415–20; Reid 1815a, p. 170–72, 194–208; Reid 1815b, p. 284; Stewart 1829, pp. 574–75). But as previously mentioned, Reid also seemed to suggest that the idea of causation itself was actually derived from our more fundamental belief in free will, and he ultimately claimed that “when I attempt to comprehend the manner in which an efficient cause operates, either upon body or upon mind, there is a darkness which my faculties are not able to penetrate” (Reid 1815a, pp. 381–90, 402). Kant thought his system gave a more thorough explanation of the darkness Reid experienced. For Kant, the mind was both part of the phenomenal and the noumenal world; a person “must represent and think of himself in this twofold way” (Kant 1996b, p. 103).28 Kant insisted that the “pure reason independent of sensibility, gives the [moral] law,” which necessarily entailed free will, and that in this realization one “is his proper self” whereas in all other, non-moral matters “he is only the appearance of himself” or a phenomenon (Kant 1996b, p. 104). On Kant’s view, Reid experienced darkness in explaining free will because the categories of the understanding, which could only yield knowledge when combined with sense data, were attempting to explain a higher principle of moral reason and the noumenal self. The key difference between Kant and Reid was that Kant’s system privileged morality and therefore free will at all costs, rendering free will a first principle above those that regulated conception of the material world. It was the emphasis on free will as a higher principle that attracted Marsh to Coleridge, who attempted to use it to establish the rationality of spiritual language and certain seemingly irrational Christian doctrines. Understanding the free will problem and Kant’s moral philosophy in detail is important to interpreting how Marsh could possibly think that reason could discover moral truths that lay beyond the understanding’s ability to express those truths. To date Marsh commentators have eschewed a careful comparison of Marsh to Kant’s moral philosophy, and most Marsh scholars have relied on Henry Pochmann on Kantian questions (Duffy 1970b, p. 194; Duffy 1973, pp. 25–26; Harding 1979, 27 Technically time and space were a kind of manifold through which sense impressions came to the mind, while the categories of the understanding used time and space to apply themselves to sense impressions. The result for Kant’s argument and our purposes is the same. 28 Exemplifying the general trend when interpreting Marsh, Anthony Harding identifies the second part of this binary, citing Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, but Harding does not point to the first part of the binary, which is central to Kant’s moral philosophy, see (Harding 1979, p. 240). Religions 2017, 8, 172 12 of 17 p. 239; Carafiol 1982, p. 198; Beer 1993, pp. cxix–cxx). Pochmann accused Marsh and Coleridge of an un-Kantian leap to practical reason, but without citing any of Kant’s texts on moral philosophy. Thus Pochmann made “pure reason” the antithesis of “practical reason” in his analysis (Pochmann 1957, pp. 136–37).29 But Kant not only speaks of "practical reason" as "pure" in the Critique of Practical Reason, the practical reason enjoyed "primacy" for Kant, as the great Kant scholar, Lewis White Beck, has shown (Beck 1960, p. 263). For Kant, according to Beck, "we have not two reasons, but one reason with two interests" (the speculative and the moral) (Beck 1960).30 8. Free Will and Romantic Consciousness For several iconic thinkers, the problem of determinism helped animate what scholars, for better or worse, have identified as Romanticism. Kant’s explanation of the free will problem came at a steep price, namely the inaccessibility of the noumenal world and a psychologically divided self. But Kant dared his opponents to give a more consistent account. “I do not see how those who insist on regarding time and space as determinations belonging to the existence of things in themselves would avoid fatalism of actions” (Kant 1996a, p. 221).31 Kant’s psychological terror at the idea of determinism and his obsession with the free will problem has led Isaiah Berlin to aptly label Kant a “restrained romantic.” Kant was restrained in his rationalistic contempt for vagueness, mysticism, or enthusiasm, but Romantic in his obsessive need to liberate free will at all costs and so liberate the moral self (Berlin 1999, pp. 69–75). Such a terror at determinism likewise animated William Wordsworth as he constructed in “Tintern Abbey” (1798) what Brian Barbour has called his “new worldview [of] Romanticism” (Barbour 1993, p. 151).32 While Stewart and Reid ultimately threw up their hands and appealed to God as the ground of free will, Kant’s obsession led him to take one more step and jettison the mind’s access to the noumenal world in order to give free will a fully separate realm in which to operate (Reid 1815a, p. 406; Stewart 1829, p. 577). Indeed, one might say that in a positive sense Kant’s moral theory—with its emphasis on self-consciousness and self-determination—inspired the German Romantics, while Kant’s metaphysical dualism haunted and agitated their creative attempts to reconnect the self with nature where they never quite shook the spectre of determinism (Beiser 2003, pp. 149–54, 170). For many poets and philosophers in England, Germany, and the United States, the apotheosis of the human mind itself—its self-consciousness, its endless creative potential, its excelsior moral law, and its godlike perception—became the only place where Kant’s haunting dualism could be transcended. Marsh shared Kant’s simultaneously intellectual and emotional Romantic obsession with the question of the human will. Part of the reason that Marsh blanched at the American receptivity to Thomas Brown was that Brown had prompted much of Marsh’s skepticism and flight to Kant and Romantic sources in the first place. During his early studies, Marsh worried, “I find myself too strongly inclined to admit [Brown’s] theory, independently of the reasoning by which it is supported, from the simplicity which it introduces into all our speculations on the phenomena and powers of nature” (Torrey 1843, p. 42). But the problem was also deeply emotional. Writing to his pious fiancée in the same year that he began to delve into Coleridge, Kant, and Madame de Staël, Marsh declared: 29 For a clear divide between “pure reason” and “practical reason” see also (Wells 1943, p. 26). 30 See also Kant: “Thus, in the union of pure speculative with pure practical reason in one cognition, the latter has primacy ... without this subordination a conflict of reason with itself would arise . . . one cannot require pure practical reason to be subordinate to speculative reason and so reverse the order since all interest is ultimately practical and even that of speculative reason is only conditional and is complete in practical use alone” (Kant 1996a, p. 237–38 and fn. 64). 31 Kant’s critique about space and time was perceptive, for Reid could be found to suggest that they were both imposed on matter by the mind and that they were simply part of matter itself. Stewart, sensitive to Kant’s critique, attempted to answer the question by saying that space and time were neither part of the mind nor of matter, but rather special metaphysical entities he called “mathematical affections,” which Jonathan Friday has concluded were underdeveloped in Stewart’s account and “hardly less problematic than anything in Kant’s metaphysics,” see (Friday 2005, pp. 284–86). 32 On Wordsworth’s crisis of determinism in his dejection following the French Revolution, recounted in The Prelude, XI:275–333, see also (Beer 1993, p. cxviii). Religions 2017, 8, 172 13 of 17 The simple, unlearned Christian . . . knows nothing of the ten thousand distracting questions, the harrowing doubts and maddening skepticisms, that dry up the heart and seethe in the brain of the unfortunate student, who has ventured to pass the consecrated limit of his traditional faith. . . . [This] daring and ill-starred adventurer . . . must not only unravel the mysteries of “[sic] fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute, &c., without getting lost in their mazes, but while floundering in an everlasting ‘hubbub wild’ of ancient learning crazed, and made to dance, like Epicurus’ atoms, to the ‘harmonious discord’ of some German metaphysical bagpipe, he must be careful to keep his balances nicely adjusted. . . . (Torrey 1843, pp. 45–47).33 Marsh’s fears about “fate, free-will, [and] foreknowledge”—enhanced by the allusion to Epicurean materialism—are clear enough. But his intellectual angst became poignantly clear in his invoking Milton’s “everlasting ‘hubbub wild’” where Chaos, Tumult, Confusion, and Discord reigned in the Abyss between Heaven, Hell, and Earth—a place where Marsh seemed to have found himself as he suggested that his journey was “little less difficult than that of our great adversary, when he passed . . . ‘Wide on the wasteful deep’” (Torrey 1843, p. 46; Milton 2005, II. pp. 949–1006). Multiplying metaphors, he continued to compare his experience with Chateaubriand listening to the groans of Sodom and Gomorrah rising from the Dead Sea and to Dante arriving at paradise only after “first going through hell and purgatory” (Torrey 1843, p. 47).34 In addition to Marsh’s Romantic concern with determinism and the liberation of the self, Marsh had clearly embraced a capacious Romantic consciousness and expressive idiom—invoking Dante, Milton, and Chateaubriand.35 He seemed to yearn for the liberation that Dante found after passing through Purgatory, where Virgil releases him declaring: “Free, upright and whole is thy free-will and it were a fault not to act on its bidding; therefore over thyself I crown and mitre thee.” (Alighieri 1961, p. 357). 9. Conclusions Marsh thought that distinguishing between reason and understanding provided a new idiom for expressing how free will simultaneously violated the mind’s intuitive belief in causation but did not violate reason. For Marsh, it was not irrational to believe in mysteries if the moral reason warranted such mysteries. “A truth may be mysterious . . . ,” Marsh insisted, “But though we may believe what ‘passeth all understanding,’ we cannot believe what is absurd, or contradictory to reason” (Marsh 1829, p. xv). Free will existed, but when the understanding attempted to comprehend it, it became lost in mystery. Free will was mysterious, but this did not mean it contradicted reason, in fact reason revealed it. Reason might bring one to a belief that violated the understanding. The route to free will lay through the moral realm, and Marsh’s attraction to Coleridge went beyond the free will problem and the reason-versus-understanding distinction. In Aids, Coleridge hoped to persuade his audience that if moral reason could reveal truths such as free will and the moral law, then perhaps reason could render faith in morally relevant Christian doctrines rational—at least in some broad sense. If for example one concluded that reason revealed an unbending moral law—as Kant allowed—and if reason revealed humans’ utter incapacity to fulfill that law—as history seemed to show—then perhaps assent to the Christian scheme of redemption—including the Trinity and the Incarnation—could somehow accord with reason.36 Marsh and Coleridge were incredibly coy on this point throughout the text. Was faith distinct from reason or not? But if the reason-versus-understanding 33 JM to Lucia Wheelock Marsh, 1 July 1821. 34 JM to Lucia Wheelock Marsh, 1 July 1821. 35 On the importance of Dante to the Romantic generation see (Eichner 1972, p. 12). On Milton see (Abrams 1971, pp. 21–29, 299–300). On de Staël as framing a new movement called “Romanticism” around such disparate writers as Wordsworth and Chateaubriand see (Isbell 1994, no page) cited in (Prickett 2010, pp. 15–16). 36 Such a position can be gleaned from aphorisms in Aids to Reflection, the theology of which is beyond the scope of this essay (Coleridge 1829, pp. 117–18, 120, 129). Douglas Hedley has identified the Trinity as the “hidden agenda” in Aids to Reflection (Hedley 2000, p. 8). Marsh apparently saw this as well for shortly after publishing Aids, he wrote to Coleridge eagerly Religions 2017, 8, 172 14 of 17 distinction was the thesis of Marsh’s preliminary essay, and if the free will problem was its driving force, Marsh also provided Coleridge’s misty and chaotic Aids to Reflection with a thesis of its own. As an astute reader of Coleridge, Marsh drew from the Biographia Literaria (1817) to give his readers a working thesis for the Aids to Reflection: “The scheme of Christianity, though not discoverable by reason, is yet in accordance with it—that link follows link by necessary consequence—that religion passes out of the ken of reason only where the eye of reason has reached its own horizon—and that faith is then but its continuation” (Marsh 1829, p. xiv). In this Pascalian formula, the horizon of reason became a critical symbol for Marsh and Coleridge as they sought to draw heaven and earth together and restore the harmony between the mind, nature, and God that even Kant could not allow (Pascal 1995, p. 56). Marsh’s position on the free will problem clearly differed from Edwards, Brown, and any Americans inclined to admit their systems, and it injected the catalytic reason-versus-understanding distinction into American intellectual discourse. Marsh’s approach to the problem not only employed Kantian terminology, it followed Kant’s moral argument more closely than is often seen. But Marsh’s position was also philosophically consistent with Reid’s and Stewart’s claim that both causation and free will were intuitive properties of the mind. In fact, the way Marsh drew his epistemological distinctions, he could accommodate a great deal of Reid’s and Stewart’s systems; Reid after all had labeled all the intellectual powers “the understanding” (Reid 1814, p. 65). But Marsh hoped that if he could get Americans to conceive in his new idiom—that beliefs might violate the understanding without becoming irrational or contrary to reason—then he might be able to blunt attacks on alleged irrational Christian doctrines. While Marsh’s vindication of traditional Christian doctrines could not ultimately persuade Unitarians of the Trinity or Christ’s divinity, the ideas that he and Coleridge outlined in the Aids to Reflection were not ephemeral. In addition to Marsh’s influence on Emerson and the Transcendentalists, he introduced a new spiritual vitality into more orthodox forms of American religion, evidenced by the hundreds of copies disappearing off of booksellers’ shelves at the orthodox Andover seminary and elsewhere. Acknowledgments: The author wishes to thank the Boston University Humanities Foundation and the Robert V. Shotwell Dissertation Fellowship committee for valuable support in the initial stages of researching this essay. Great appreciation also goes out to the Thomas Jefferson Center at the University of Texas at Austin, the Jack Miller Center, and Belhaven University who provided valuable support while revising the argument. The author would also like to thank Charles Capper and Jon Roberts for insightful readings of early drafts of the essay; Jeffrey Marshall and the University of Vermont Special collections for their kindness and help; and Kenneth Sacks and the Religions editorial staff for the opportunity to present the essay in this collection. Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest. References Abrams, M. H. 1971. Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature. New York: Norton. Adams, Robert Merrihew. 1998. Introduction. In Religion within the Boundaries of Mere Reason, 10th reprint. Cambridge Texts in the History of Philosophy. Translated and Edited by Allen Wood and George Di Giovanni. New York: Cambridge University Press, pp. vii–xxxii. Alighieri, Dante. 1961. Purgatorio: The Divine Comedy. Translated by John D. Sinclair. New York: Oxford University Press. Ameriks, Karl. 2005. A Commonsense Kant? 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Transcendent Reason: James Marsh and the Forms of Romantic Thought. Tallahassee: Florida State University Press. Channing, William Ellery. 1843. Unitarian Christianity: Discourse at the Ordination of the Rev. Jared Sparks. In The Works of William E. Channing, 2nd ed. Boston: J. Munroe and Company, vol. 3, pp. 59–104. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. 1829. Aids to Reflection: With a Preliminary Essay, 1st American ed. Edited by James Marsh. Burlington: Chauncy Goodrich. Conser, Walter H. 1986. James Marsh and the Germans. The New England Quarterly 59: 259–66. [CrossRef] Conser, Walter H. 1993. God and the Natural World: Religion and Science in Antebellum America. Columbia: University of South Carolina Press. Cranston, Maurice William. 1994. The Romantic Movement. Oxford: Blackwell. Dewey, John. 1941. James Marsh and American Philosophy. Journal of the History of Ideas 2: 131–50. [CrossRef] Dixon, Thomas. 2003. From Passions to Emotions: The Creation of a Secular Psychological Category. 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James Marsh and the Conservative Transcendentalist Philosophy: A Political Interpretation. The New England Quarterly 31: 3–31. [CrossRef] Friday, Jonathan. 2005. Dugald Stewart on Reid, Kant and the Refutation of Idealism. British Journal for the History of Philosophy 13: 263–86. [CrossRef] Frye, Northrop. 1974. The Drunken Boat: The Revolutionary Element in Romanticism. In Romanticism: Points of View, 2nd ed. Edited by Robert F. Gleckner and Gerald E. Enscoe. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, pp. 298–313. Greenwood, Douglas McCreary. 1984. James Marsh. In The Transcendentalists: A Review of Research and Criticism. Edited by Joel Myerson. New York: Modern Language Association of America, pp. 343–47. Gura, Philip F. 2007. American Transcendentalism: A History. New York: Hill and Wang. Harding, Anthony John. 1979. James Marsh as Editor of Coleridge. In Reading Coleridge: Approaches and Applications. Edited by Walter Byron Crawford. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, pp. 223–51. http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/365682 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2707110 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/363241 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/362875 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/09608780500069285 Religions 2017, 8, 172 16 of 17 Harvey, Samantha. 2011. Coleridge’s American Revival: James Marsh, John Dewey, and the Legacy of Vermont Transcendentalism. Symbiosis: A Journal of Anglo-American Literary Relations 15: 77–103. Harvey, Samantha. 2013. Transatlantic Transcendentalism: Coleridge, Emerson, and Nature. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Hedley, Douglas. 2000. Coleridge, Philosophy, and Religion: Aids to Reflection and the Mirror of the Spirit. New York: Cambridge University Press. Holifield, E. Brooks. 2003. Theology in America: Christian Thought from the Age of the Puritans to the Civil War. New Haven: Yale University Press. Howe, Daniel Walker. 1970. The Unitarian Conscience: Harvard Moral Philosophy, 1805–1861. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Howe, Daniel Walker. 1997. Making the American Self: Jonathan Edwards to Abraham Lincoln. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Huntington, Charles Andrew. 1892. The University of Vermont Fifty Years Ago. Burlington: Whitney & Stanley. Isbell, John Claiborne. 1994. The Birth of European Romanticism: Truth and Propaganda in Stael’s ‘De l’Allemagne’ 1810–1813. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kant, Immanuel. 1996a. Critique of Practical Reason. In Practical Philosophy. Translated and Edited by Mary J. Gregor. Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant. New York: Cambridge University Press, vol. 5, pp. 137–271. Kant, Immanuel. 1996b. Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals. In Practical Philosophy. Cambridge Edition of the Works of Immanuel Kant. Translated and Edited by Mary J. Gregor. New York: Cambridge University Press, vol. 5, pp. 37–108. Kuklick, Bruce. 1985. Churchmen and Philosophers: From Jonathan Edwards to John Dewey. New Haven: Yale University Press. Lindsay, Julian Ira. 1936. Coleridge and the University of Vermont. Vermont Alumni Weekly 15: 147–49, 154–55, 159–60, 171–72, 178–79. Lindsay, Julian Ira. 1954. Tradition Looks Forward: The University of Vermont: A History, 1791–1904. Burlington: University of Vermont. Malherbe, Michel. 2003. The Impact on Europe. In The Cambridge Companion to the Scottish Enlightenment. Edited by Alexander Broadie. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 298–315. Marsh, James. 1823. Letter to “My dear Parents”. 31 January 1823, Box 1, Folder 5, James Marsh Collection, Special Collections, University of Vermont Library. Marsh, James. 1829. Preliminary Essay. In Aids to Reflection: With a Preliminary Essay, 1st American ed. Burlington: Chauncy Goodrich. McGiffert, Arthur C. 1969. James Marsh (1794–1842): Philosophical Theologian, Evangelical Liberal. Church History 38: 437–58. Available online: http://www.jstor.org.belhaven.idm.oclc.org/stable/3163519 (accessed on 14 August 2017). [CrossRef] Meyer, Donald H. 1972. The Instructed Conscience: The Shaping of the American National Ethic. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Miller, Perry. 1978. The Transcendentalists. New York: MJF Books. Milton, John. 2005. Paradise Lost. Edited by Gordon Teskey. New York: W. W. Norton & Company. Mortera, Emanuele Levi. 2012. Stewart, Kant, and the Reworking of Common Sense. History of European Ideas 38: 122–42. [CrossRef] Myerson, Joel. 2000. Introduction. In Transcendentalism: A Reader. New York: Oxford University Press, pp. xxv–xxxvii. Nicolson, Marjorie H. 1925. James Marsh and the Vermont Transcendentalists. The Philosophical Review 34: 28–50. [CrossRef] Noll, Mark A. 2002. America’s God: From Jonathan Edwards to Abraham Lincoln. New York: Oxford University Press. O’Brien, Michael. 2004. Conjectures of Order: Intellectual Life and the American South, 1810–1860. 2 vols. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Pascal, Blaise. 1995. Pensees. Translated by A. J. Krailsheimer. New York: Penguin Books. Perry, Lewis. 1984. Intellectual Life in America: A History. New York: F. Watts. Pochmann, Henry A. 1957. German Culture in America: Philosophical and Literary Influences, 1600–1900. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press. http://www.jstor.org.belhaven.idm.oclc.org/stable/3163519 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/3163519 http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/01916599.2011.635441 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2179280 Religions 2017, 8, 172 17 of 17 Prickett, Stephen. 2010. General Introduction: Of Fragments, Monsters, and Translations. In European Romanticism: A Reader. Edited by Stephen Prickett and Simon Haines. London: Bloomsbury Academic, pp. 3–20. Reid, Thomas. 1813. Aristotle’s Logic and Inquiry into the Human Mind. 4 vols. The Works of Thomas Reid. Charlestown: Samuel Etheridge, Jun’r., vol. 1. Reid, Thomas. 1814. Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man I-IV. 4 vols. The Works of Thomas Reid. Charlestown: Samuel Etheridge, Jun’r., vol. 2. Reid, Thomas. 1815a. Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man V-VIII and Essays on the Active Powers of the Human Mind I. 4 vols. The Works of Thomas Reid; Charlestown: Samuel Etheridge, Jun’r., vol. 3. Reid, Thomas. 1815b. Essays on the Active Powers of the Human Mind II-V. 4 vols; Works of Thomas Reid; Charlestown: Samuel Etheridge, Jun’r., vol. 4. Richardson, Robert D. 1995. Emerson: The Mind on Fire. Berkeley: University of California Press. Rosenfeld, Sophia. 2011. Common Sense: A Political History. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Snow, Louis Franklin. 1907. The College Curriculum in the United States. New York: Teachers College, Columbia University. Stewart, Dugald. 1829. The Philosophy of the Active and Moral Powers of Man. The Works of Dugald Stewart; Cambridge: Hilliard and Brown, vol. 5. Sweeney, Douglas. 2003. Nathaniel Taylor, New Haven Theology, and the Legacy of Jonathan Edwards. New York: Oxford University Press. Swift, David E. 1972. Yankee in Virginia. James Marsh at Hampden-Sydney, 1823–1826. The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 80: 312–32. Taylor, Nathaniel William. 1842. Concio Ad Clerum: A Sermon Delivered in the Chapel of Yale College, September 10, 1828. New Haven: A.H. Maltby and H. Hallock, First published 1828. Joseph Gendall Torrey, ed. 1843. The Remains of the Rev. James Marsh, D.D., Late President, and Professor of Moral and Intellectual Philosophy, in the University of Vermont: With a Memoir of His Life. Burlington: Chauncey Goodrich. Turner, James. 1985. Without God, Without Creed: The Origins of Unbelief in America. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Upham, Thomas Cogswell. 1827. Elements of Intellectual Philosophy: Designed as a Textbook. Portland: W. Hyde. Wartenberg, Thomas E. 1992. Reason and the Practice of Science. In The Cambridge Companion to Kant. Edited by Paul Guyer. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 228–48. Wells, Ronald Vale. 1943. Three Christian Transcendentalists: James Marsh, Caleb Sprague Henry, Frederic Henry Hedge. New York: Columbia University Press. White, Ruth Williams. 1965. James Marsh, Educational Pioneer. Educational Forum 29: 217–24. [CrossRef] © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/00131726509339361 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction Scottish Common Sense Toward a New Epistemology: Marsh, Kant, and Common Sense The Fraying of the Edwardsian Tradition: American Philosophical Theology in the 1820s Free Will and the Problem of Thomas Brown Reason versus Understanding Marsh, Kant, and Practical Reason Free Will and Romantic Consciousness Conclusions 
work_ltmkmxbzbvadzktfpedgwmxcd4	----	Aesthetic Democracy: Walt Whitman and the Poetry of the People Aesthetic Democracy: Walt Whitman and the Poetry of the People Author(s): Jason Frank Source: The Review of Politics, Vol. 69, No. 3, Special Issue on Politics and Literature (Summer, 2007), pp. 402-430 Published by: Cambridge University Press for the University of Notre Dame du lac on behalf of Review of Politics Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20452901 . Accessed: 19/03/2014 15:48 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. . Cambridge University Press and University of Notre Dame du lac on behalf of Review of Politics are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Review of Politics. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=notredamepolitics http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=notredamepolitics http://www.jstor.org/stable/20452901?origin=JSTOR-pdf http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp The Review of Politics 69 (2007), 402-430. Copyright () University of Notre Dame DOI: 10.1017/S0034670507000745 Printed in the USA Aesthetic Democracy: Walt Whitman and the Poetry of the People Jason Frank Abstract: This essay argues for Walt Whitman's significance to contemporary democratic theory, neither as a theorist of moral or aesthetic individualism nor as a theorist of communitarian nationalism, but as a theorist of the democratic sublime. Whitman's account of "aesthetic democracy" emphasizes the affective and autopoetic dimensions of political life. For Whitman, popular attachment to democracy requires an aesthetic component, and he aimed to enact the required reconfiguration of popular sensibility through a poetic depiction of the people as themselves a sublimely poetic, world-making power. Through his poetic translation of the vox populi, Whitman hoped to engender a robustly transformative democratic politics. He found the resources for political regeneration in the poetics of everyday citizenship, in the democratic potentials of ordinary life. We have frequently printed the word democracy. Yet I cannot too often repeat that it is a word the real gist of which still sleeps ... notwithstand ing the resonance and the many angry tempests out of which its syllables have come from pen or tongue. It is a great word, whose history ... remains unwritten, because that history has yet to be enacted. -Walt Whitman, Democratic Vistas' I have benefited from colleagues' comments on earlier versions of this essay. Thanks to Sharon Cameron, Bill Connolly, Dick Flathman, Jay Grossman, Burke Hendrix, Bonnie Honig, Shannon Mariotti, Davide Panagia, Tracy Strong, Larzer Ziff, and Catherine Zuckert. Thanks also to three anonymous reviewers from The Review of Politics. 2Walt Whitman, Democratic Vistas, 984. Subsequent references to Whitman's work will be cited in the text with the following abbreviations: AP: An American Primer (Boston: Small, Maynard, and Co., 1904). C: With Walt Whitman in Camden, ed. Horace Tr?ubel. 9 vols. (New York: Mitchell Kennerly, 1914). DV: Democratic Vistas, in Poetry and Prose, 953-1018. (See below.) E: "The Eighteenth Presidency!" in Poetry and Prose, 1331-49. (See below.) LG: Leaves of Grass (multiple editions) in Poetry and Prose, 5-145 [1855]; 165-672 [1891-1892]; 677-96 [1860, 1865]. (See below.) N: Notebooks and Unpublished Prose Manuscripts. 6 vols. (New York: 402 This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 403 F. 0. Matthieson called Walt Whitman "the central figure of our literature affirming the democratic faith"; more recently, George Kateb described Whitman as "perhaps the greatest philosopher of the culture of democracy."2 Both assessments seem warranted, and to them I would add another: Whitman is one of America's greatest theorists of the relationship between aesthetics and democratic politics. In texts like Leaves of Grass (1855) and Democratic Vistas (1871), Whitman unites these spheres in a conception of "aesthetic democracy." For Whitman, the popular commitment to democracy requires an aesthetic evaluation, and he aimed to enact the required reconfi guration of popular sensibility through the poetic depiction of the people as themselves a sublimely poetic, world-making power. Whitman's invocation of the people is, in this sense, sublimely autopoetic rather than autonomic; the people are at once the inexhaustible inspiration and the effect of poetic mediation. Through his poetry, Whitman claimed to sing the multitudinous diversity of the vox populi back to the people themselves, thereby enhancing their latent poetic capacity and aesthetically enabling a radical democratic politics of collective revision.3 As such, Whitman's conception of aesthetic democracy illuminates three regions of inquiry usually neglected in contem porary democratic theory: the relationship between aesthetics and politics, New York University Press, 1984). P: Poetry and Prose, ed. Justin Kaplan (New York: Library of America, 1996). R: Walt Whitman: The Contemporary Reviews, ed. Kenneth M. Price (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1996). SD: Specimen Days and Collect (New York: Dover Publications, 1995). W: Walt Whitman's Workshop: A Collection of Unpublished Prose Manuscripts, ed. Clifton Joseph Furness (New York: Russell and Russell, 1964). 2F. O. Matthiessen, From the Heart of Europe (New York: Oxford University Press, 1948), 90; George Kateb, The Inner Ocean: Individualism and Democratic Culture (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992), 240. 3The contrast between autopoetic and autonomie emphasizes the aesthetic over jur idical concerns in Whitman's work, while also emphasizing his creative and transfor mative conception of democratic politics. As Jacques Ranci?re's work has shown, to affirm the poetic dimension of politics is to understand political enactment in terms of a "reconfiguration of the sensible." In Whitman's work it is the very perceptual self of "democratic self determination" that is continually reformed and recreated. For a relevant discussion of political poetics see Jacques Ranci?re, The Politics of Aesthetics, trans. Gabriel Rockhill (New York: Continuum, 2004), 12-18. The theme of revisionary poetic politics is obviously related to Whitman's preoccupation with revising his own body of work in the multiple editions of Leaves of Grass. For a discus sion that traces this theme through the different editions, see Michael Moon, Disseminating Whitman: Revision and Corporeality in Leaves of Grass (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 404 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS the invariably poetic construction of the people, and the people themselves envisioned as a poetic, world-making power. This essay pursues these topics by exploring Whitman's reflections on aes thetic democracy and his experimental poetic invocation of the people's voice. The vox populi of Whitman's people, and of the democracy they enact, resides in their constitutive futurity, in the fact that they remain forever a people that is not ... yet.4 Whitman's poetry figures the people as inexhaustibly sublime in that they can be neither captured by representation nor finally embodied by political institutions.5 For Whitman, in effect, "the people are always more and less than the people."6 The democratic attachments Whitman hoped to engender through his poetry revolve around the vivifying sublimity of this paradox of the people never at one with itself. While in certain respects Whitman's democratic faith resembles the "democratic aestheticism" cele brated in Kateb's influential work on Whitman, I argue that Whitman's is ulti mately a more radically democratic vision than Kateb's Emersonian interpretation allows. Whitman's aesthetic democracy does not simply call for "receptivity or responsiveness to as much of the world as possible," but for an embrace of a world always in the process of becoming other than it is.7 Whitman offers contemporary democratic theorists a distinct 4Slavoj Zizek has explored the significant transformation of the politics of "the people" into the politics of "a people" in Tarrying With the Negative. For Zizek, the "sublime enthusiasm" of the people is an "open" but "brief, passing moment," "not yet hegemonized by any positive ideological project." See Zizek, Tarrying With the Negative: Kant, Hegel, and the Critique of Ideology (Durham: Duke University Press, 1993), 1. I argue here that Whitman hoped to vivify such an open democratic culture through the dissemination of his poetry. 5Harold Bloom offers the best general discussion of Emerson's and Whitman's dis tinct conceptions of the "American Sublime" in "Emerson and Whitman: The American Sublime" from Poetry and Repression: Revisionism from Blake to Stevens (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1976), 235-66; see also Joseph Kronick, "On the Border of History: Whitman and the American Sublime," in The American Sublime, ed. Mary Arensberg (Albany: State University of New York Press), 51-82. I cannot offer an extended discussion of the sublime here, but Kateb provides a useful summary statement: "[T]he sublime refers to such aspects of artworks, nature, and human social phenomenon as the unbounded or boundless; the indefinite, indetermi nate, or infinite; the transgressive; the overwhelming or overpowering ... the awe-inspiring, wondrous, astonishing, or unexpectedly mysterious; and the uncanny." George Kateb, "Aestheticism and Morality: Their Cooperation and Hostility," in Patriotism and Other Mistakes (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006), 117-49, 129. 6Jacques Ranci?re, Dis-agrcement: Politics and Philosophy, trans. Julie Rose (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999), 10. 7George Kateb, "Aestheticism and Morality," 143. Kateb rightly emphasizes Whitman's attempt to "show that nearly everyone and everything is worthy of aes thetic attitudes and feeling," but Whitman goes beyond this aesthetic affirmation of This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 405 understanding of the transformative poetics of citizenship, where the quoti dian and embodied dimensions of democratic life, its ethical organization, are essential to democracy's "real gist" and meaning, and its enactment beyond "pen or tongue." The most theoretically provocative and potentially productive dimensions of Whitman's work are found in his departures from the inherited ideological divisions of nineteenth-century American politics, and from the attachments of American political institutions. I Whitman's changing attitude toward American politics and political insti tutions has provoked much scholarly debate. No doubt Whitman evinced a lifelong reverence for the members of the Founding generation, particularly for that "beacon in history," the "matchless WASHINGTON."8 In this, Whitman was like many other followers of the "Young America" movement of the 1830s and 1840s, writers who, in newspapers like John L. Sullivan's Democratic Review (in which Whitman published frequently), advocated a strongly nationalistic response to European cultural dominance.9 Mythologizing the Founders was an assertion of cultural independence; men like Jefferson and Washington stood as powerful unifying symbols in a period when "union" was considered a fragile and vulnerable achievement. Beyond this widely shared cultural nationalism, Whitman's early political commitments also owed much to the Founding generation's republican lega cies. Jefferson's distinctly American civic republicanism was particularly important to Whitman's early political education; the material requirements of independent citizenship, the importance of land availability, and the turn away from the authority of the past, all appear in Whitman's writing, early and late. Indeed, the transformation of Jeffersonian ideology during the presi dency of Andrew Jackson-in particular its urbanization-profoundly marked the political climate of Whitman's childhood. As his biographers emphasize, Whitman was born into a family of working-class Jacksonian democrats, and his father was an ardent admirer of Jefferson and Paine.10 Whitman's early the "world as it is" to engender a politically enlivening sense of the people's poetic power, their capacity for "formative action." 8Whitman's persistent loyalty to the Founding generation is emphasized by Daniel Aaron in his essay "Whitman and the Founding Fathers," The Mickle Street Review 10 (1988): 5-12. 9For a good account of Whitman's involvement with the "Young America" move ment, see David Reynolds' Walt Whitman's America: A Cultural Biography (New York: Knopf, 1995), 81-82. 10See, for example, Reynolds, Walt Whitman's America, 26. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 406 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS political involvements and his newspaper editorials of the 1830s and 1840s rarely deviated from this Jeffersonian-jacksonian ideological framework.11 Reading Whitman's later work solely through the lens of these earlier pol itical commitments, however, does not explain Whitman's idiosyncratic use of key terms like "democracy" and "the people" in the writing for which he is best known: Leaves of Grass, beginning with the 1855 publication. Unlike Noah Webster, who warned readers against using these words precisely because their advocates "have never defined what they mean by the people, or what they mean by democracy," Whitman used their polyvocality to his poetic and political advantage.12 Whitman's distinctive contribution to American political thought is obscured when the politics of his writings are reduced to his early political affiliations and party activism. The publication of Leaves came during a period of widely perceived social and political crisis that coincided with an extraordinary flowering of American literature: The Scarlet Letter, Representative Men, Moby-Dick, Pierre, Uncle Tom's Cabin, Walden, The House of the Seven Gables, and Leaves of Grass were all published between 1850 and 1855. David Reynolds has convincingly argued that this literary flowering should be understood as a response to the period's social and political turbulence. Whitman's literary response to the political events unfolding around him was twofold: on the one hand, and fol lowing other political romantics, he invoked a broadened understanding of literature and poetry for political ends; on the other, he turned away from institutions to an unmediated understanding of the people as the only reliable source of democratic regeneration. Whitman's vision of "aesthetic democracy" emerged from the interconnectedness of this twofold response. The social and political crisis of the 1850s was marked by widespread political corruption, a widening gap between rich and poor, rising immigration and corresponding anti-immigrant feeling, high urban death rates, and a frag mented political system in the wake of the death of the old party system.13 Overwhelming all these factors, of course, was the expanding power of Southern slavery. The year 1850 saw the congressional passage of a more for ceful Fugitive Slave Law, which sent Southern slave hunters into Northern cities and made those harboring slaves in the North subject to federal prose cution. In 1854 the Kansas-Nebraska Act repealed the Missouri Compromise of 1820, opening the West to the expansion of America's "peculiar institution" and creating border wars between Missouri slaveholders and abolitionist, or free-soil, forces in "Bloody Kansas." 11 Jerome Loving emphasizes Whitman's party activism and its influence on his literary work. See Loving, "The Political Roots of Leaves of Grass," in Historical Guide to Walt Whitman, ed. David Reynolds (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 231-42. 12Noah Webster, The Letters of Noah Webster, ed. H.M. Warfel (New York: Library Publishers, 1953), 504. 13Reynolds, Walt Whitman's America, 306. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 407 Whitman's reaction to the United States' slow descent into civil war was famously ambivalent. On the issue of slavery, Whitman was a committed "antiextensionist." In the pre-Civil War period, he did not believe in eradicat ing slavery (which he thought would bring about the dissolution of union), but rather opposed its further extension into the Western Territories. (Lincoln held a similar view.) Whitman's enthusiastic participation in the Free-Soil movement's early stages suggests his antislavery activism was motivated primarily by the Jeffersonian concern that the West remain open to independent white farmers rather than a principled opposition to racial inequality. Moreover, in his editorials from the period, Whitman strongly con demned what he considered the fanaticism of both Northern abolitionists (particularly the Constitution-burning Garrisonians) and southern propo nents of slavery or secession. As the crisis grew, Whitman's faith in American political and legal institutions withered, and he sought instead to articulate latent common "intuitions" and poetically "celebrate the inherent" dispositions and sensibilities of the people themselves (W, 145). The text that best signals Whitman's apprehension in the face of growing political crisis is his vitriolic attack on the administration of Franklin Pierce in "The Eighteenth Presidency!" (1856). In a passage that resonates stylisti cally as a negative counterpart to his celebratory, open-ended democratic lists in Leaves, Whitman describes the period's party politicians as Office-holders, office-seekers, robbers, pimps, exclusives, malignants, con spirators, murderers, fancy-men, post- masters, custom-house clerks, con tractors, kept-editors, spaniels well-trained to carry and fetch ... pimpled men, scarred inside with the vile disorder, gaudy outside with gold chains made from people's money and harlot's money twisted together; crawling, serpentine men, the lousy combings and born freedom sellers of the earth. (E, 1337-38) In passages like this- and this text has many like it-Whitman expressed the period's common suspicion of institutional politics and institutions of all kinds. He also exemplified the tone and temper of much of the writing circu lating in mid-nineteenth-century America. Departing from the purported ratio-critical norms of the public sphere, political debate in the period was marked by passionate invective, sentimental appeal, defamation, and the widespread recognition of the political uses of vehemence, disdain, and contempt.14 Much of this literature was written in the name of reform of one kind or another. The reform movements that characterized the political culture of antebellum America had by the 1850s been radicalized by their evangelical and deeply antiauthoritarian constituencies. "Ultraism" was a term in 14See Robert Fanuzzi, Abolition's Public Sphere (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2003); and Kimberly Smith, The Dominion of Voice: Riot, Reason, and Romance in Antebellum Politics (Lawrence: University Press of Kansas, 1999). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 408 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS common use in the period to designate this radicalized brand of reform poli tics and to distinguish it from its reasoned, deliberative, largely Unitarian variant.15 Ultraists believed that individuals could be sanctified while on earth and used this moral perfectionism to argue against the complicity of compromise, institutional mediation, and political deliberation. The resulting animus against mediating institutions was compounded by a fiery renewal of antinomian thought and sensibility in the period. The mediation of language itself was suspect for some of the age's more enthusiastic radical lights, as in John Brown's insistence on "action! action!" But even less revolutionary, more intellectual writers appreciated the impulse. Thoreau, for example, had pub licly noted and celebrated precisely this aspect of Brown. "He was not a rhet orician," Thoreau said shortly after Brown's thwarted raid on Harper's Ferry, but "the greatest of preachers." "He did not set up even a political graven image between him and his God."16 Emerson, too, noted the "fertile forms of antinomianism" that thrived in antebellum America, allowing for a "keener scrutiny of institutions and domestic life." 17 Whitman was accused of participating in this antinomian reaction to what both he and Emerson characterized as the "fossilism" of inherited institutions. As he wrote in the first edition of Leaves (1855), "Unscrew the locks from the doors!/ Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!" (LG, 50) In the "Calamus" section of the second edition of Leaves (1862), Whitman responded to those who criticized this anti-institutionalist or antinomian aspect of the first volume, evident in both its content and in its abandonment of inherited poetic forms (about which, more below): I HEAR it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions, But really I am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed have I in common with them? or what with the destruction of them?) (LG, 281) Whitman's indifference to institutions led, at times, to a reiteration of the period's common invocation of the force and power of immediacy: "We want no reforms," Whitman wrote, "no institutions, no parties-We want a living principle as nature has, under which nothing can go wrong" (W, 62). Like Emerson, Whitman would be "ashamed to think how easily we 15This distinction is extensively elaborated in Sean Wilentz's influential study of working class politics in antebellum America. See Wilentz, Chants Democratic: New York City and the Rise of the American Working Class, 1788-1850 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1984). A detailed account of the centrality of reform move ments to antebellum political culture is provided in Ronald Walters, American Reformers, 1815-1860 (New York: Hill and Wang, 1978). 16Thoreau, "A Plea for Captain John Brown" in Civil Disobedience and Other Essays (New York: Dover, 1993), 31-48, 37. 17Emerson, "New England Reformers," in Essays: First and Second Series (New York: Library of America, 1990), 361-79, 363. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 409 capitulate to badges and names, to large societies and dead institutions." 18 For Whitman, however, overcoming the weight of these inherited institutions came not only from a spiritualized invocation of "nature," or the self-reliant individual (however removed from individualism or sovereign mastery the Emersonian individual, properly understood, might be), but from a direct turn to "the people" in whose name these putatively democratic institutions ruled. In the 1850s' crisis of social and political institutions, Whitman glimpsed new possibilities for fulfilling their hindered democratic prospects, a promise of democratic regeneration through the aesthetic transformation of everyday life. The crisis of the 1850s was understood by many of the era's writers as a crisis of both politics and meaning-a crisis in representation broadly under stood.19 Responding to unfolding events in "Bloody Kansas," for example, Emerson wrote that "language has lost its meaning in the universal cant. Representative government is really misrepresentative ... Manifest Destiny, Democracy, Freedom, fine names for an ugly thing .... They call it chivalry and freedom; I call it the stealing of all the earnings of a poor man and his little girl and boy."20 Whitman wrote Leaves to address both levels of this rep resentational crisis, but in doing so he did not aim to turn away from the cor ruption and complicity of politics altogether (as some have argued Thoreau did at Walden Pond). Instead, he looked to the latent resources of democratic life, particularly as manifest in America's growing cities, to restore the poetic vitality of both politics and language. While on the surface America's political institutions seemed compromised and diminishing of individuality (a point frequently reiterated in the writing of Emerson and Thoreau), Whitman believed political engagement and encounter carried a deeper significance, one "descending below laws ... [and] social routines," (W, 145), and over looked by widespread ultraist condemnations of politics. Admitting the "vile" and "incompetent" people sometimes put forward in a democracy, Whitman nevertheless wrote that "shams, etc. will always be 18Emerson, "Self-Reliance" in Selected Essays, ed. Larzer Ziff (New York: Penguin, 1982), 175-204, 179. 19Describing this dual crisis in post-Revolutionary America, Thomas Gustafson writes: "[T]he problem of representation was not just a matter of political represen tation but also of linguistic representation. Indeed, the quest for proper representation in the Revolutionary era [and after] was at once a quest to restore and maintain a meaningful correspondence between political representatives and their constituents and a quest to restore a meaningful correspondence between words and their repre sentative ideas." Gustafson, Representative Words Politics, Literature, and the American Language, 1776-1865 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 199. Whitman also recognized the interconnectedness of this crisis, but he saw such simply restorative acts of representation as insufficient to his democratic vision. See below pp. 426-427. 20Emerson, Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. Edward Waldo Emerson, 12 vols. (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1903-1904), vol. 6, 259-60. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 410 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS the show, like ocean's scum; enough, if waters deep and clear make up the rest. Enough that while the piled embroidery shoddy gaud and fraud spreads to the superficial eye, the hidden warp and weft are genuine and will wear forever" (DV, 978). Like Thoreau and Emerson, Whitman recog nized the "threatening evils" of political democracy-all three were particu larly troubled by democracy's averaging forces and "statistical" propensities-but Whitman also found resources to combat these evils, not only in fathomless, spiritualized "nature," but in the very "roar of cities and the broil of politics" that Emerson's essay "Nature" posits as a dangerous or distracting artifice.2' "To attack the turbulence and destructiveness of the Democratic spirit," Whitman wrote, "is an old story .... But with the noble Democratic spirit-even accompanied by its freaks and its excesses-no people can ever become enslaved."22 Whitman believed spaces of political contest-in his words, the "arenas" or "gymnasiums" of freedom-were the necessary forums for creating the asser tively independent citizens required for a regenerative democracy of everyday life, for the transformative poetics of everyday citizenship, understood as a lived practice rather than a juridical category. Political contest was not simply subject to overarching moral purpose for Whitman. He figured the political not as an instrumentalized realm serving competing ends, nor as a debased or diminishing distraction from the stylized cultivation of the self. His high evaluation of political engagement and contention-his estimation of its "restorative" capacities-clearly distinguishes Whitman from both his Emersonian and ultraist contemporaries. It also gives passages like the follow ing their resounding noninstrumentalist resonance: "A brave delight, fit for freedom's athletes, fills these arenas, and fully satisfies, out of the action in them, irrespective of success" (DV, 976). The action that Whitman believes these forums for democratic citizenship engender is explicitly agonistic: "I think agitation is the most important factor of all," Whitman writes, "the most deeply important. To stir, to question, to suspect, to examine, to denounce!" (C, IV, 30) "Vive, the attack-the perennial assault!" (DV 976) Leaves at once speaks for and elicits a self capable of flourishing amidst the democratic agonism called for in several of Whitman's texts. As he writes in "By Blue Ontario's Shore," for example: "[H]e only suits these States whose manners favor the audacity and sublime turbulence of the States" (LG, 481). Democratic contest and agonism was for Whitman productive of the kind of self-reliant individuality that Thoreau and Emerson thought prior to poli tics, and also undercut or diminished by politics. Whitman's independent, democratic self is an effect of a milling space of political discord and demo cratic contest. Kateb has shown how Whitman envisioned a democratic 21Emerson, "Nature," in Selected Essays, 35-82, 52. 22Taken from Betsy Erkkila, Whitman the Political Poet (New York: Oxford University Press, 1989), 103. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 411 culture capable of sustaining and enabling a robust and stylized "aesthetic individuality," but he mischaracterizes the relationship between them. The tension Kateb identifies between a highly individualistic antinomianism and collective civic-mindedness is, indeed, present throughout Whitman's work, but Whitman's embrace of a radical democratic politics works to suspend the opposition between them. Take, for example, a passage from Democratic Vistas that Kateb also quotes, in part: "Bibles may convey, and priests expound, but it is exclusively for the noiseless operation of the isolated Self, to enter the pure ether of veneration, reach the divine levels, and commune with the unutterable" (DV 989). The antinomianism of this passage-"commune with the unutterable"-is clearly reminiscent of Emerson's early essays and even carries with it the trace of theological contro versy. But then, the very next line-"To practically enter into politics is an important part of American personalism" (DV, 989)-reasserts Whitman's embrace of political action as constitutive of the self. The practical and affective organization of democratic life below the level of institutions and laws was Whitman's primary concern after 1855 and is essen tial to his vision of aesthetic democracy and to the poetics of citizenship that it enacts. While this position was elaborated in the preface to the first edition of Leaves, Democratic Vistas stated it best: For not only is it not enough that the new blood, new frame of democracy shall be vivified and held together merely by political means, superficial suffrage, legislation, etc., but it is clear to me that unless it goes deeper, gets at least as firm and warm a hold in men's hearts, emotions and belief, as, in their days, feudalism or ecclesiasticism, and inaugurates its own perennial sources, welling from the center forever, it strengths will be defective, its growth doubtful, and its main charm wanting (DV, 959). According to Whitman, American democracy's crisis of the 1850s could not be resolved by reorganizing political institutions, but only by addressing what Kateb has insightfully termed a particular "stylization of life," "a distinctive set of appearances, habits, rituals, dress, ceremonies, folk traditions and his torical memories." However, while Kateb sees this concern as "secondary at best," and fears its nationalistic or collectivist tendencies, it was here that the promise of aesthetic interventions into democratic life became most evident to Whitman; on this explicitly aesthetic terrain, contemporary democratic theor ists may have the most to learn from Whitman.23 II As newspaper editor for the Brooklyn Eagle and the Aurora, Whitman already appreciated the political power of words to shape political action and educate 23Kateb, The Inner Ocean, 240. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 412 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS citizens. He was a committed participant in what historian Richard Brown has characterized as America's evolving "discourse of the informed citizen," which identified education and the free circulation of information in an open public sphere as the primary basis for securing independent citi zenship and the stability of free government.24 Vhitman participated in this discourse, but he also critiqued it, particularly in his literary contri butions, as they came to be valued as an extension of his editorial and journal istic efforts. As Betsy Erkkila has written, "[T]he publication of Leaves of Grass in 1855 was not an escape from politics but a continuation of politics by other means."25 It was a continuation, however, that also marked a transformation in Whitman's conceptualization of politics. Whitman's work was no longer engaged principally in contending over particular issues or clarifying ideo logical positions; instead, Whitman addressed the overall condition of the polity as what he called a "passionate body," elaborating the "electric" or "resonant" interconnections between the utter singularity of the self and the multitudinous and contending voices of democratic politics.26 Art intended, Whitman wrote, "to serve the people," and when it failed to do so it was "false to its promises" (C, IV, 4). The preface to the first edition of Leaves (1855) reads as a kind of manifesto on the interconnections between aesthetics and democratic politics, an account elaborated in more detail later in Democratic Vistas (1871). Whitman believed grasping this interconnec tion was crucial to understanding his poetry. Those "who insist on viewing my poetry," he wrote, as "literary performance," or as "aiming mainly toward art or aestheticism" (P, 671) invariably fail to understand it. Whitman disdained the growing tendency of literature to "magnify & inten sify its own technism" and to "isolate itself from general & vulgar life, & to make a caste or order" (N, 1603). Opposing such tendencies in the first edition of Leaves, Whitman opened aesthetics to democratic politics and democratic politics to aesthetics. Experimentally departing from both the "technism" of poetic form (most obviously the inherited conventions of lyric poetry) and the formalism of political institutions, Whitman hoped to stage an unmediated, challenging encounter with his audience. He attempted to overcome poetically the representational limitation of the written text that 24See Richard Brown, The Strength of the People: The Idea of an Informed Citizenry in America, 1650-1870 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1996), especially 119-53. 25Betsy Erkkila, Whitman the Political Poet, 92. 26Donald E. Pease argues that the "doctrine of the body electric" was Whitman's democratic translation of the early modern discourse of the King's Two Bodies. Through this "doctrine" Whitman "develops a correspondence between an individ ual's inner impulses and the democratic masses." See his "Walt Whitman and the Vox Populi of the American Masses," in Visionary Compacts: American Renaissance Writing in Cultural Contexts (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1987), 108-57, 110. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 413 connects and separates the poet from his public. Consider, for example, this famous passage from the "Song of Occupations": Come closer to me, Push close my lovers and take the best I possess, [...] I was chilled with the cold type and cylinder and wet paper between us. (LG, 89) Whitman likened his attempt to move or "touch" the reader poetically with the power of oratory and the spoken word in antebellum political culture. Discussing the power of oratory in the period, Emerson wrote that the orator's word should not be distinguished from action. "It is the electricity of action. It is action, as the general's word of command or chart of battle is action." Because oratory was closely associated with the crowds that often populate Whitman's poetry, however, some writers associated it with demo cratic unreason and the dangers of popular tyranny. Thoreau, for instance, took a more suspicious view of oratorical power when he wrote that the "orator yields to the inspiration of the transient occasion, and speaks to the mob before him, to those who can hear him; but the writer ... who would be distracted by the event and the crowd which inspire the orator, speaks to the intellect and the heart of mankind, to all in any age who can understand him."27 Whitman, in contrast, wanted the reader to hear his songs as much as understand them; he regularly situates himself within the clamor of the crowd rather than aspiring to rise above it. In his American Primer Whitman wrote that the ideal writer should be able to do with words "any thing, that man or woman or the natural powers can do" (AP, 598). Whitman wanted his words to touch his readers and move them toward democratic rejuvenation. The connections Whitman sought to establish with the reader, and to dis seminate in the political culture of the time, were explicitly affective and erotic.28 As Whitman wrote in the "Calamus" section of Leaves of Grass, he wanted readers to thrust him beneath their clothing, "to feel the throbs of their heart, to rest upon their hips" (LG, 271). Examining passages such as these, Allen Grossman has argued that Whitman's overriding concern in his 27Emerson, "Eloquence," in The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol 8,111 21,115. Thoreau, Waiden, in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers. Waiden; or, Life in the Woods. The Maine Woods. Cape Cod, ed. Robert F. Sayre (New York: Library of America, 1985), 325-587, 404. 28The erotic dimensions of Whitman's understanding of politics and the political dimensions of his understanding of Eros have been explored by Michael Moon in Disseminating Whitman. Whitman's "body politics," Moon writes, "is designed to reconstitute the readers' very subjectivity in relation not only to the author's but to their own and everyone else's bodily existence ... Whitman revises readerly subjectiv ity in the direction of a heightened, transforming sense of the constructedness and hence the dense politicality of all bodily experiences, erotic and otherwise" (4). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 414 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS poetry and its public orientation was with an "infinite distributability of affec tionate presence." Whitman hoped to press in upon his readers as the surging crowds of Manhattan pressed in upon themselves and him, but-and this is again in contrast to Emerson and Thoreau-he envisioned this proliferation of contact as stimulating difference rather than diminishing the individual. The urban crowds among which Whitman so often positions himself in his writings are his model carriers of "presence" and, as such, the markers of a representational limit. Grossman argues that Whitman's intention to rid transactions of "all representational mediation" is the reason for his interest in "phrenology, his dislike of political parties, poetic diction, mythology, and so on."29 Whitman's attempts to overcome political and written mediation in his poetry also illuminate the peculiar way that he invokes democracy in his writing. Instead of arguing for the legitimacy of democratic politics in the American setting, the goal of Whitman's work was to provoke and dissemi nate a democratic sensibility that shaped the experiences of individuals below the cognitive level of conviction or even persuasion. "I and mine," he writes, "do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes. We convince by our presence" (LG, 303; see also pp. 421-422 below). The idea that one could "convince" by presence rather than argument relied on a vision of the "social and political" world as conserved not by "legislation, police, trea ties, [or] dread of punishment," but by what Whitman called the "latent intuitional sense" (DV 1013). By directing his poetic work to this infrasensible level of democratic life and practice, or to what Ralph Ellison would later call its "lower frequencies," Whitman hoped to invigorate individual and political capacities, to further engender and enhance the individual and collective self-enactments he thought exemplary of American democracy.30 His poems were to "arouse reason," but also to "suggest, give freedom, strength, muscle, candor" (N, 1563). "Your very flesh," he wrote in Leaves, "shall be a great poem and have the riches and fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body" (LG, 11). Through dissemination of his poetic translation of the vox populi, the autopoetic power Whitman 29Allen Grossman, "The Poetics of Union in Whitman and Lincoln: An Inquiry Toward the Relationship of Art and Policy," in The American Renaissance Reconsidered: Selected Papers from the English Institute, 1982-1983, ed. Walter Benn Michaels and Donald E. Pease (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985), 183-208, 208. 30I take "infrasensible" from William Connolly's explorations of these topics. See his Neuropolitics: Thinking, Culture, Speed (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2002) and Why I Am Not a Secularist (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1999). Ellison invokes democracy's "lower frequencies" in the final line of Invisible Man (New York: Vintage, 1995). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 415 associates with democracy would become a part of the (electric) organization of the body (politic) itself. Whitman's turn away from established channels of institutionalized politics in favor of aesthetic intervention into political life at the micropolitical level3l has led some commentators to accuse him of abandoning faith in democratic politics altogether. One version of this argument suggests that Whitman's turn to aesthetics corresponds to a tum toward a "spiritual democracy," or an attempt by an elite class of poet-legislators "to overcome the practice of politics as a collective decision-making process."32 In this reading, Whitman's reference to "democratic despots" in Democratic Vistas is under stood as an all-too-literal reference to a despotic poetic class rather than to the self-enacting or autopoetic aspect of democratic politics itself. Others have more plausibly argued that an often unrecognized "dark side" taints Whitman's putatively democratic politics, his loathing of corrupt institutions "seep[ing] through to a disdain for the people themselves."33 According to this interpretation, Whitman exhibits the familiar conflict of left-wing intellec tuals who want to celebrate the common man, while often showing disdain for actually existing people. Both readings attribute to Whitman a "Romantic" or "Rousseauian" longing for authentic and unalienated exist ence, a longing they then place at the heart of Whitman's critique of actually existing democracy. Such arguments neglect Whitman's political and stylistic departures from earlier forms of political romanticism, departures which shape his claim to be a democratic poet. For Whitman, not only was poetry a kind of democratic action, but democratic action should itself be understood as a kind of poetry. Whitman's poetry presented a "vulgar" or "promiscuous" democratic people to themselves as sublime and worthy of inspiring aesthetic appreciation and emulation rather than embarrassment or disgust.34 He did so not to further 31Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, trans. Brian Massumi (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), 208-31. 32Jessie Goldhammer, "Walt Whitman: Democracy's Janus-Faced Poet," Critical Sense 4, no. 2 (Fall 1996): 37-67, 62. 33Richard Ellis, The Dark Side of the Left: Illiberal Egalitarianism in America (Lawrence: Kansas University Press, 1998), 73. 34Martha Nussbaum emphasizes this aspect of Whitman's thought, arguing that he "attempts to create a democratic counter-cosmos, in which hierarchies of souls are replaced by the democratic body of the United States." See "Democratic Desire: Walt Whitman," in her Upheavals of Thought: The Intelligence of Emotions (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 645-78, 656. I disagree with Nussbaum, however, when she writes that Whitman's poetry aimed to diminish the public's disgust at their own promiscuous embodiment only because it was a "barrier to the full equality and mutual respect of all citizens." Whitman's poetics of citizenship aimed at a transformative political praxis that cannot be reduced to the familiar This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 416 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS enhance Americans' habitual self-regard, but to invigorate the generous, autopoetic potentials already latent in the people themselves. The highly indi vidualized Romantic vision of the poet-legislator-best captured by Percy Bysshe Shelley's rapturous account of poets as the "unacknowledged legislators of the World" - attracted Whitman, but he ultimately rejected this vision, along with the lyric poetry associated with it, as didactic, elitist, and antidemocratic.35 Whitman is poorly read as "first, last and nothing else but a lyric poet, self centered, individualistic, in the tradition of the great individualistic Romantic writers and poets."36 The heroic vision of the poet did appeal to Whitman in its idealism and in the emphasis it placed on the world-making capacity of words. Emerson's essay "The Poet," which Whitman greatly admired, captured this capacity through its invocation of the poet as "the sayer, the namer .... He is a sovereign, and stands on the centre."37 However, Whitman ultimately resisted this unitary, undemocratic vision of the poet/author/authority; his designation as the paradigmatic democratic poet emerges from his resistance to this familiar Romantic conception. Whitman's most sustained confrontation with this Romantic vision is found in his writings on Thomas Carlyle. For Whitman, Carlyle's work best exempli fied the antidemocratic temptation of modem times, and his response to Carlyle clearly articulates his own contrary vision of the form giving or autop oetic power of the people themselves. Whitman agreed with Carlyle that theirs was a time of crisis and fundamental uncertainty: would it be "enoble ment," Carlyle asked, or would it be "death?" Where Carlyle saw the greatest danger, however, Whitman saw promise and opportunity. Carlyle's disdain for the democratic masses, which he characterized as "swarmery" ("the gath ering of men in swarms," from the German Schwarmarei and associated with the English term "enthusiasm"),38 was dismissed by Whitman as a symptom of dyspepsia or the improper digestion of the spirit of the age.39 Both formalism of reciprocity or mutual respect, but also cannot be simply opposed to it. Also see Nussbaum, Hiding from Humanity: Disgust, Shame, and the Law (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004), 117. 35Taken from M. H. Abrams, Natural Supernaturalism: Tradition and Revolution in Romantic Literature (New York: Norton, 1973), 384. 36C. L. R. James, American Civilization (New York: Blackwell, 1993), 51. 37Emerson, "The Poet," in Essays: First and Second Series, 217-38, 219. 38Thomas Carlyle, "Shooting Niagara: And After?" Critical and Miscellaneous Essays vol. 7 (London: Chapman and Hall, 1894 [1867]), 200-41, 202. For a related discussion of the politics of "enthusiasm," see my "'Besides Our Selves': An Essay on Enthusiastic Politics and Civil Subjectivity," Public Culture 17, no. 3: 371-92. 39"One may include among the lessons of his life?even though that stretch'd to amazing length?how behind the tally of genius and morals stands the stomach, and gives a sort of casting vote." Whitman "On the Death of Thomas Carlyle," in Specimen Days and Collect, 168-69. 168. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 417 writers were suspicious of quantitative or utilitarian visions of democracy, those which embraced the principle that the "Count of Heads" was "to be the Divine Court of Appeal on every question and interest of mankind."40 But Whitman had faith in the ability of the people themselves to resist their statistical reduction to so many "dreams or dots" (LG, 9). In "Shooting Niagara"-the essay to which Whitman's Democratic Vistas responds-Carlyle warned his "Aristo" readers to avoid the impracticality of literature. He did this in part because his own attempts to unify aes thetics and politics (in Chartism, for example) had proven woefully ineffec tive.41 No longer clinging to hopes for a heroic "literatus" (Whitman's term), or poet, Carlyle in Shooting Niagara longed for a new aristocratic union of title and nature. Carlyle expressed a wish that "the entire popu lation" could "be thoroughly drilled," and called on the throne to provide such a system, thereby taking a stand against the "dirt, disorder, nomad ism, disobedience, folly and confusion" of democracy.42 Whitman's poetry, in contrast, created a sublime "image-making work" of this very same democratic spectacle. Whitman understood Carlyle's nostalgic longing for the heroic individ ual's reappearance as a futile though understandable temptation, which forced him to ask how democracy itself could produce the greatness of character usually associated with aristocratic culture, and not invariably diminish or threaten individual singularity. "My utmost pretension," Whitman wrote in Specimen Days, "is probably but to offset that old claim of the exclusively curative power of first-class individual men, as leaders and rulers, by the claims, and general movement and result, of ideas. Something of the latter kind seems to me the distinctive theory of America, of democracy, and of the modern-or rather I should say it is democracy, and it is the modern" (SD, 916). "Democracy," "America," and "the Modern," were, for Whitman, "convertible terms." His invocation of Hegel-implicit here, explicit elsewhere-guided Whitman further away from heroic individualists like Carlyle, not only to an understanding of the movement of ideas and spirit, but also to embracing the insufficiency of the individual and the importance of the constitutive aspects of human relations. Recent appreciations of Whitman's aesthetic individualism have underemphasized this aspect of his thought.43 40Carlyle, "Shooting Niagara," 200. 41For a discussion of Carlyle's attempts to speak for the masses, see John Plotz, "Crowd Power: Chartism, Carlyle, and the Victorian Public Sphere," Representations 70 (Spring 2000): 87-114, 90. 42Carlyle, "Shooting Niagara," 235. 43In addition to the Kateb work already cited, see Morton Schoolman's rewarding chapters on Whitman in Reason and Horror: Critical Theory, Democracy, and Aesthetic Individuality (New York: Routledge, 2001), 185-250. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 418 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS In Hegel, Whitman found the insight that truth is not in "any one party, or any one form of government," but in the "just relations of objects to each other" (SD, 920). The struggles between objects-the dialectic-reveal truth, Whitman writes, in the "endless process of Creative thought." This line of thinking brings Whitman to a question central to his own autopoetic understanding of democ racy. "What is the fusing explanation and tie," Whitman asks, "what relationship between the (radical democratic) Me, the human identity of understanding, emotions, spirit, &c, on the one side, and the (conservative) Not Me, the whole material objective universe and laws, with what is behind them in time and space, on the other side?" (SD, 919) Whitman took the opposition here between his "(radical democratic) Me" and the intransigent "conservative" existence of the material world from his admiring encounter with German idealism. But why is the "Me" characterized by Whitman as "radical democratic" rather than, as we might expect, "free," for example, or "moral?" If Romantic writers tended to see the poet as the text's sole originator and author/authority, Whitman works again and again to decenter this relationship. Even the poetic "Me" or "I" is not one for Whitman, but many; it is democratic in its very plurality and in its "nomadism." As Whitman famously asks in Leaves, "Do I contradict myself?/ Very well then ... I contradict myself;/ I am large ... I contain multi tudes" (LG, 87). Kateb has suggested that such moments in Whitman's work point to an inexhaustible inner reservoir of potentiality, and Kateb convincingly emphasizes the gap between the conscious (one might say representational) limit ations of Whitman's "self" and the depths of his secularized understanding of "soul." For Kateb, this is the basis of Whitman's ethics, for "to admit one's compo siteness and ultimate unknowability is to open oneself to a kinship to others which is defined by receptivity and responsiveness to them."44 This abiding sense of inner strangeness that we recognize in others, and which leads us to be receptive of their singularity, is crucial to Kateb's identi fication of an Emersonian perfectionist ideal in Whitman's work. But for Whitman the inner strangeness his "(radical democratic) Me" encounters results not from the primary ineffability of solitude, but from the sublime potentialities of relational democratic life itself. The inexhaustible resources of potentiality that Kateb finds in Whitman's "democratic personality" do not lie first in the inner strangeness that then opens to the receptivity of another; instead, this inner strangeness or uncanniness is better understood as a product of democratic encounter, as an effect of the multivoiced constitution of the democratic self. Whitman's account of the interconnection between demo cratic politics and democratic language richly explores this sublime effect of democracy (it production of a multitudinous democratic self), and Whitman hopes to further enact this effect by ventriloquizing the myriad and changing voices that constitutes the vox populi. Arguably, the very attempt to capture poe tically the sublimely polyphonic voice of the people-to serve as an aesthetic 44Kateb, The Inner Ocean, 252. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 419 mediator for the people themselves-turns Whitman against lyric poetry and drives his poetic experimentalism.45 On the topic of polyvocality and the multitudinous self, Whitman has a striking affinity with the work of Mikhail Bakhtin, who is similarly concerned with the socially embedded forms of speech that occupy different and over lapping regions of a given language. Bakhtin calls this complex social back ground of meaningful speech production "heteroglossia." For Whitman, a key distinction of the American language, which emerges from and helps (re)enact American democracy, was precisely such luxuriant proliferation of speech idioms. Whitman writes that the immense diversity of race, temperament, character-the copious stream of humanity constantly flowing hither-must reappear in free rich growths of speech .... The opulence of race-elements is in the theory of America. Land of the Ensemble, to her consenting currents flow, and the ethnology of the States draws the grand outline of that hospitality and reception that must mark the new politics, sociology, literature, and religion. (N, 1661) The "theory of America," from which Whitman hopes to draw the orienting ethos of "hospitality" and "reception," emerges from its "immense diversity of race, temperament, character" and the "free rich growths of speech" that emanate from this diversity. Whitman's emphasis here is on a popular voice that always exceeds itself, that can never be coordinated into a final articu lated unity or expression, and that is invariably experimental. "I consider Leaves of Grass and its theory," Whitman wrote in "A Backward Glance O'er Travel'd Roads," "to be experimental as, in the deepest sense, I consider our American republic itself to be" (P, 657). What Whitman claims in passages like this, he formally enacts in the bold poetic experimentalism of Leaves, a text which, according to one critic, effectively "shunned all familiar marks of poetry of the time."46 Whitman's innovations in poetic form are related to his attempts to render the sublime cacophony of democratic speech poetically. According to Allen Grossman, Whitman abandoned "poetic language" in favor of a "conjunctive principle" manifest in the "sequence of end-stopped, nonequivalent, but equipollent lines" that characterize Leaves' abandonment of a "centralizing hypotactic grammar." This "grammar" is replaced in Whitman's poetry by what Grossman characterizes as "an unprecedented trope of inclusion."47 45By asserting the close interconnection between Whitman's radically democratic politics and his formal poetic innovations, I depart from critics who have attempted to isolate the one from the other. For a good discussion of this tendency in the critical literature, see Peter J. Bellis, "Against Representation: The 1855 Edition of Leaves of Grass," Centennial Review 43, no. 1 (Winter 1999), 71-94. 46Kenneth M. Price, Whitman and Tradition: The Poet in His Century (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990), 53. 47Grossman, "Poetics of Union," 193-95. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 420 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS Whitman believed that the received traditions of European lyric poetry sought to avoid precisely this inclusive heteroglossic dimension of language. Like Bakhtin, Whitman believed that the lyrical poetic form evinced an unde mocratically unitary theory of the subject as expressed by speech. To combat this conception of self, Whitman initiated his radically innovative "demo cratic" changes within poetic discourse and form. (Bakhtin famously gave up on studying "discourse in poetry" altogether and turned instead to the novel.) For both writers, an implicit and faulty understanding of the relation ship between language and the self stood behind lyric poetry's aspirations and its attempt to cleanse language of heteroglot associations. It was not the poetry, in other words, but the assumptions about subjectivity behind the poetry that both writers found politically suspect. As Bakhtin writes, In poetic genres, artistic consciousness-understood as a unity of all the author's semantic and expressive intentions-fully realizes itself within its own language; in them alone is such consciousness fully immanent, expressing itself in it directly and without mediation, without conditions and without distance. The language of the poet is his language, he is utterly immersed in it, inseparable from it, he makes use of each form, each word, each expression according to its unmediated power to assign meaning (as it were, "without quotation marks"), that is as a pure and direct expression of his own intention.48 Like Bakhtin, Whitman was acutely aware that speakers never come to language "without quotation marks," that in using language they acknowl edge indebtedness to others and that one cannot assume a "complete single personed hegemony over [one's]own language."49 Neither postulated "a simple and unmediated relationship of the speaker to his unitary and singular 'own' language."50 Poetic language as conceptualized in the lyric mode had posited the individual as the fount of meaning, where Whitman and Bakhtin instead urged that the individual be grasped as an effect of the het eroglot currents of language itself.51 As we saw above, this means the "inner strangeness" one might encounter when "accounting with the unutter able" comes from an encounter with one or many internal others. "A person has no interior sovereign territory, he is wholly and always on the boundary; looking inside himself he looks into the eyes of another or with the eyes of another."52 This description resonates with Whitman's "(radical democratic) Me," irreducibly populated with a vast multitude of competing voices, or 48Mikhail Bakhtin, "Discourse in the Novel," in The Dialogic Imagination, trans. C. Emerson and M. Holquist (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1981), 259-422, 285. 49Bakhtin, "Discourse in the Novel," 297. 50Bakhtin, "Discourse in the Novel," 269. 51Bakhtin, "Discourse in the Novel," 288. 52Bakhtin, "Discourse in the Novel," 287. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 421 as Whitman noted in "Out of the Cradle Endlessly Rocking," "A thousand warbling echoes have started to life within me" (LG, 392). This constitutively relational understanding of the self is what the influen tial interpretations of Whitman as a distinct but grateful Emersonian tend to neglect.53 Kateb, for example, finds Whitman's frequent references to "the love of comrades" and, above all, to "adhesiveness" particularly discomfiting, and he rightly notes the ugly nativism that sometimes marks Whitman's work (particularly the writings on the Civil War). Kateb worries that Whitman's account of adhesiveness "threatens to suffocate the very individualism of per sonality which Whitman is trying to promote" with "an all-enfolding merger."54 Thus, for Kateb "Whitman's final lesson is solitude, not the adven tures of human connectedness."55 He asks us to choose between two Whitmans: the aesthetic individualist or the communitarian nationalist. The radical democratic Whitman shows this to be a false choice. It is important to note that when Whitman invokes "adhesiveness" and the "love of comrades," he distinguishes them from isolating and mediating phenomenon. There is "individualism, which isolates," but also "another half, which is adhesiveness or love, that fuses, ties, and aggregates, making the races comrades, and fraternizing all" (DV 973). Whitman asserts his hope that his work dedicated to "ma femme" democracy will be able to "make divine magnetic lands/ With the love of comrades,/ With the life-long love of comrades" (LG, 272). "Adhesiveness" and "magnetism," odd terms to contemporary ears, were associated in antebellum America with the popular discourses of phrenology and mesmerism. Both discourses asserted that what bound individuals was infrasensible communication rather than common cognitive or representational commitments. Adhesiveness, Whitman reminds readers, cannot be found in "sounded and resounded words, chatter ing words, echoes, dead words" (LG, 274). For Whitman the importance of this infrasensible connection was crucial in a time when "the terrible doubt of appearances" became a cultural obsession and familiar bonds of trust and solidarity seemed threatened by both the growth of impersonal market forces and a politics of distance and dissimulation, it comprised the "latent intuitional sense" that Leaves attempted to tap. Whitman hoped his work could serve as a response to the political and epistemological crisis of looming civil war insofar as it could promote the 53Kateb has little to say about language's role in constituting the self in Whitman's work, which I will turn to again below. Stephen White perceptively explains Kateb's general avoidance of such in Sustaining Affirmation: The Strengths of Weak Ontology in Political Theory (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), 35. Jay Grossman offers a persuasive account of the differences between Emerson and Whitman in his Reconstituting the American Renaissance: Emerson, Whitman, and the Politics of Representation (Durham: Duke University Press, 2003). 54Kateb, Inner Ocean, 259. 55Kateb, Inner Ocean, 266. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 422 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS magnetic, or electric, flows of shared sentiment and affirmation between people (but, again, without reducing people to a common mind or substance). In "Calamus," Whitman responds to the "terrible doubt of appearances" in this way: I cannot answer the question of appearances or that of Identity beyond the grave, But I walk or sit indifferent, I am satisfied, He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me. (LG, 274-75) In this "love of man for his comrade," this "attraction of friend to friend," Whitman locates "the base of all metaphysics." If the specter of radical doubt, the impulse of skepticism, or its political corollary in corrosive mistrust cannot be philosophically refuted with confidence, Whitman hoped it might at least be tempered with comradely affection. Whitman's response to skepticism is not a renewed quest for certitude. Instead, it is found in the ordinary gesture of holding a hand; skepticism is here assuaged by copresence. Clearly, Whitman wanted his poetry itself to become something like that reassuring hand. This response to skepticism resides in the relations between people, in their being-in-common rather than being common.56 Whitman is, therefore, misread as a theorist of socialization, or as simply offering his poetry as a vehicle of social cohesion.57 Mere social unification or national identification is foreign to Whitman's invocation of the inexhaustible plenitude of democratic life, to the people's "measureless wealth of power and capacity, their vast artis tic contrasts of lights and shades," and to his aesthetic revaluation of American democracy's vulgar asymmetries and promiscuous inconsistencies into the reg ister of the unrepresentable sublime. The "sublimest part of political history," Whitman wrote, "is currently issuing from the American people" (DV, 978). III Whitman's claim in Leaves that "[t]he Americans of all nations at any time upon the earth, have probably the most poetical nature" and that "the United States are essentially the greatest poem" (LG, 5) would have sounded perverse in the mid- nineteenth century. Tocqueville's remarks, two decades earlier in Democracy in America, that America "pays less attention to literature than any other civilized country," or that only the writing of jour nalists could be described as "truly American," were characteristic of the European evaluation. It was the predominant image to which nineteenth century American literature's declaration of cultural independence 56See Jean-Luc Nancy, The Inoperative Community, trans. P. Connor, L. Garbus, M. Holland, S. Sawhney (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1991), 57-58. 57This argument is made by Samuel H. Beer. In "Liberty and Union: Walt Whitman's Idea of the Nation," Political Theory 12, no. 3 (August 1984): 361-86. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 423 responded.58 Tocqueville expressed a common view when he wrote that "Aristocracy, by keeping society fixed, favors the stability and endurance of positive religions as well as political institutions ... [and that] in this respect aristocracy favors poetry."59 In a phrase that could have been Whitman's own, however, Tocqueville also gestured to new literary possibi lities in democracy; "[D]emocracy shuts the past to poetry," Tocqueville wrote, "but opens the future."60 Whitman clearly identified American poetry with the future, but he signifi cantly expanded his conception of the poetic to encompass individual and collective actions or performances. It was not simply that the American people provided rich material for poetry; they were poetry. Whitman addressed his work to the autopoetic nature of the people themselves. In America, Whitman writes, "the performance, disdaining the trivial, unap proach'd in the tremendous audacity of its crowds and groupings, and the push of its perspective, spreads with crampless and flowing breadth, and showers its prolific and splendid extravagance" (LG, 5). Americans' "sublime" and "poetic" nature is related to this audacious collective perform ance, to democracy's "crampless and flowing breadth," which Whitman dis tinguishes from the solidity and "fossilism" of aristocratic political and literary institutions.61 If other states in other times "indicate themselves in their deputies" -in their representatives-the "genius" of Whitman's America is "not best or most in its executives or legislatures, nor in its ambas sadors or authors, or colleges or churches or parlors, nor even in its newspa per inventors-but always most in the common people" (LG, 5). The "poetical nature" of "the common people" corresponds to what Whitman describes as their capacity for "formative action," (DV 993) action self-generated and transformative of the "fossilism" of received institutions. This capacity Whitman associates with the people generally, but, as he reminds his readers, "the people have only emerged in America" (P, 1087). Like many of his contemporaries, Whitman was captivated by the idea that human beings made their own history, while also being products of that history. Marx's famous observation in the third of his "Theses on Feuerbach" - "men are products of their circumstances and changed 58See Larzer Ziff, Literary Democracy: The Declaration of Cultural Independence in America, 1837-1861 (New York: Knopf, 1981). 59Alexis de Tocqueville, Democracy in America, ed. J. P. Mayer, trans. G. Lawrence (New York: Harper Collins, 1988), 483. 60Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 485. 61In an insightful aphorism from The Gay Science, Nietzsche similarly describes "really democratic" ages as those where individuals replace faith in fixed social hier archies with faith in their own performative capacities: "everybody experiments with himself, improvises, makes new experiments, enjoys his experiments; and all nature ceases and becomes art." Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, trans. Walter Kaufmann (New York: Vintage, 1974), 303. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 424 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS upbringing," but also the very force required to "change circumstances"62 resonates at several points in Whitman's work. While it is overstated to suggest that Whitman's democratic citizens "are free to act and create without historical restriction,"63 it is true that Whitman primarily envisions the people as a creative, autopoetic power. Democracy, Whitman suggests, justifies itself through the works it creates. For Whitman language itself - "greater than buildings or ships or religions or paintings or music" (LG, 144) -was a crucial marker of the radical autop oetic power of the common people. Whitman understands language as an incarnation of "man's unconscious passionate creative energy," born of "pas sionate yearning" (N, 1626-28). For Whitman, language is not born of description or definition, or of an innate desire to know and take control of the world, but rather of a creative desire. This desire is, moreover, democratic, born of a kind of sublime democratic spontaneity. "Language," Whitman writes, "is not an abstract construction of the learn'd, or of dictionary makers, but it is something arising out of the work, needs, ties, joys, affec tions, tastes, of long generations of humanity, and has bases broad and low, close to the ground. Its final decisions are made by the masses" (P, 1190). The democracy of language, its origin in the creative potentiality of the people, in the low and the ordinary, is one of the principal reasons that Whitman placed so much importance on slang. "Profoundly consider'd," Whitman wrote, slang "is the lawless germinal element, below all words and sentences, and behind all poetry" (P, 1189). Like his hero Jefferson, Whitman was a "friend of Neology," and like Tocqueville, Whitman believed that "the continual restlessness of democracy" was related to "endless changes of language."64 The spontaneous creation and re-creation of language seems to Whitman most unhindered in a democracy, and it is clearly an import ant part of what makes the vox populi so "poetic" for him. It also traces the kind of democratic, as opposed to didactic or legislative, relationship Whitman hoped to establish with his public. While Whitman did not aim simply to impose a democratic vision on his public, to assume the position of the sovereign-poet-legislator, he did work to elicit poetically the very demo cratic public that seemingly spoke through him. He sought to elicit an audience that could hear their own democratic voice in the songs of their poet. Unlike some of his closest contemporaries (Michael Gilmore has singled out Hawthorne and Emerson), Whitman did not fear abandoning his words to the interpretive flux of a democratic public; he did not seek final control over his words and their significations.65 The message of the great poets 62Marx, "Theses on Feuerbach" in The Marx-Engels Reader, ed. R. C. Tucker (New York: Norton, 1978), 143-45, 144. 63Goldhammer, "Democracy's Janus-Faced Poet," 41. 64Tocqueville, Democracy in America, 478-82. 65Michael Gilmore, American Romanticism and the Marketplace (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 425 "to each man and woman" was "come to us on equal terms," because "what we enclose you enclose. What we enjoy, you may enjoy" (LG, 15). "Song of Myself" famously begins with the seeming egoism of "I celebrate myself,/ and what I assume you shall assume." But Whitman continues: "For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you" (LG, 27). In this assertion of common belonging, but not of a common substance-Kateb describes it as the recognition of common potentiality-a dialogical relationship and an agonistic, if not antagonistic, interaction ensue. Whitman does not transmit the information of his text into a passive mind-"we must not be sacks and stomachs," as Emerson wrote 66-nor does he impose upon it a prophetic vision. Instead, Whitman envisions the author and the reader struggling over the meanings conveyed. You shall no longer take things at second or third hand ... nor look through the eyes of the dead . . . nor feed on the specters in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take Things from me, You shall leam to listen to all sides and filter them from yourself. (LG, 28) Just as the institutions of democratic contest provide arenas for forming robust individuality, so does literature (albeit only of a certain kind) provoke the reader's own democratic and poetic potential. As already argued, the circulation of Whitman's poetry aimed to affect readers on mul tiple levels of sensibility and disposition-so that they appreciate the democ racy from which they spring as no longer disfigured but sublime-but never passively. Whitman envisions this process as a physical contest, mentioning the "gymnasiums" of "freedom's athletes" in confronting these texts and then describing practices of critical reading itself as a "gymnast's struggle." "The reader," Whitman writes, "is to do something for himself, must be on the alert, must himself or herself construct indeed the poem, argument, history, metaphysical essay-the text furnishing the hints, the clue, the start or framework" (DV, 1016-17). The dialogic and physically transformative struggle to make a language one's own, to interact with the affective and rep resentational hints and clues of a text, serves Whitman in Democratic Vistas as both an analogy and as a practice of political education. As a poet engaging with, and situated within, this surging poetic and democratic power of the people, Whitman does not attempt a usurpation of popular voice, nor does he simply play the role of ventriloquist. Rather than speaking for the people, Whitman aims to speak to and among them: "A call in the midst of the crowd,/ My own voice, orotund sweeping and final" (LG, 75). He notes his "dejection and amazement" that "few or none" have yet "really spoken to this people, created a single image-making work 66Emerson, Representative Men: Seven Lectures (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), 8. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 426 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS for them, or absorbed the central spirit and the idiosyncrasies which are theirs-and which, thus, in highest ranges, so far remain entirely uncele brated, unexpressed" (DV, 978). Whitman notes that "literature, strictly speaking, has never recognized the people" (DV, 968). His pursuit of a poetic "image-making work" aimed to provide democracy with multiple images for imitation and adaptation-images taken from the sublime resources of the people themselves. The people in "their measureless wealth of latent power and capacity, their vast, artistic contrast of lights and shades" provide Whitman with his material. He is not imposing it upon them (heteronomically), but performing an aesthetic translation of what is already immanent to their democratic practices. "He strangely trans mutes them,/ They are not vile any more ... they hardly know themselves, they are so grown"(LG, 131). "The people are ungrammatical" and "untidy," but Whitman's work does not aim to clean them up or subject them to the laws of grammar (or codified rules of justice). Unlike Carlyle, for example, who aimed to provide a voice for the mute force of Chartism's popular crowds, Whitman's invocation of the people speaks from and among them. Like William Hazlitt-who opens his essay "What is the People?" with the quick response "And who are you to ask that ques tion?"67 Whitman refuses the division between himself and the people. As Larzer Ziff perceptively notes, Whitman makes the "democratic audience the author of the poems of its poet."68 In this paradoxical claim to provide an aesthetic translation of the people's independent, but not self-identical, and sublime voice, the people are figured at once as the inexhaustible inspi ration and the effect of poetic mediation. Whitman's work reveals the vox populi not to be a predetermined unity, or a national expression, but instead a provisional effect or claim.69 If Whitman's project was not merely to give aesthetic expression to the inar ticulate yet preexisting sovereign voice of the people, neither was it simply to represent the people accurately. Poetry for Whitman should not aim merely to represent accurately an independent reality, but to enact a new reality. Again, 67Hazlitt, "What is the People?" in Selected Writings (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991) 2-28, 3. 68Larzer Ziff, "Whitman and the Crowd," Critical Inquiry 10 (June 1984): 579-91, 586. 69In this, Whitman's understanding of the people corresponds to work in contem porary democratic theory that emphasizes the people as an effect of political or rhetori cal claims made in their name. Ernesto Laclau's recent emphasis on "the people" as catachresis is particularly illuminating in this regard, as is F. R. Ankersmit's insistence on the (dis)figuration entailed by any form of popular political representation. See Ernesto Laclau, "The 'People' and the Discursive Production of Emptiness," in On Populist Reason (New York: Verso, 2005), 67-128; F. R. Ankersmit, Aesthetic Politics: Political Philosophy Beyond Fact and Value (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996). This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 427 there are passages that seem to conflict with this conclusion, as when Whitman writes in Leaves that the poet "swears to his art, I will not be med dlesome ... . What I tell I tell for precisely what it is ... . What I experience or portray shall go from my composition without a shred of my composition. You shall stand by my side and look in the mirror with me" (LG, 14). Whitman claims in Leaves that "everything is literally photographed. Nothing is poeticized" (N, 1524). Such passages have led some to characterize Whitman as an "observer and reporter," even an empirical social scientist.70 Whitman did try to capture (and identify with) the vast ensemble of American democracy in his open-ended lists and through his commitment to literature's under-represented. ("Of every hue and caste am I, of every rank and religion, A farmer, mechanic, artist, gentleman, sailor, quaker,/ Prisoner, fancy-man, rowdy, lawyer, physician, priest," LG, 204.) However, Whitman ultimately aspired to more than the mimetic realism of the photo graphic model; his resistance to "poeticizing" should not be confused with resistance to aesthetic translation tout court. In the categories of Romantic poetic representation famously described by M. H. Abrams, Whitman resisted both the mirror and the lamp.71 Always in touch with his era's broader aesthetic movements, Whitman initially felt a deep affinity with the quest for mimetic realism that characterized much of antebellum painting, but like these painters he also longed for an ineffable truth that could not be captured by pursuing the ideal of the daguerreotype. According to David Reynolds, Whitman ultimately reviled this school's social complacency and its fetishization of the actual. 2Whitman's vivid portrayals of "interminable swarms of alert, turbulent, good-natured [and not so good-natured], indepen dent citizens" are well known (DV 978), but he also warns poets not to be cap tivated by the "study of the picture of things" (N, 1569). He urged readers to "confront the growing excess and arrogance of realism" (DV, 1009). This poetic capacity forms another important link between aesthetics and politics. If Whitman posits a surging creativity as central to his understanding of democracy and embraces the vitality of the people over formal political insti tutions and law, that people is for Whitman forever without unified will or subjectivity. The people invoked by Whitman do not aim at the realization of a common essence or at the construction of such an essence, but are only realized through their continual political reinvention out of a collective reser voir of sublime potentiality. The people's refusal of final legibility, their resistance to serving as an ori ginary and articulate principle, is due largely to what Whitman considers 70Samuel Beers emphasizes this aspect of Whitman's work so as to take him "seriously as a social scientist." See Beer, "Liberty and Union," 363. 71M. H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971). 72Reynolds, Walt Whitman's America, 286. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 428 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS their constitutive futurity, the suppression of the existent that Whitman associates with "the growing excess and arrogance of realism" in the America of his time (DV 1009). This futurity underlies the people's worldly reality itself, their "main significance" (which Whitman opposed to the para doxical "abstraction" of "realism"): I count with such absolute certainty on the great future of the United States-different from, though founded on, the past-that I have always invoked that future, and surrounded myself with it, before or while singing my songs. (As ever, all tends to followings-America, too, is a pro phecy. What, even of the best and most successful, would be justified by itself alone? By the present, or the material ostent alone? Of men or States, few realize how much they live in the future. That, rising like pinnacles, gives its main significance to all You and I are doing today.) (P, 1035) This is quite a remarkable parenthetical aside. The future gives significance to the present in that it guides and orients contemporary action, inhabiting that action and giving it meaning. Ernst Bloch, in his work on The Principle of Hope, called this phenomenon "the Not-Yet-Conscious," which "fulfills the meaning of all men and the horizon of all being."73 In drawing readers' attention to how the present is saturated with not only the past, but the future, how con temporary actors inhabit a gap between them, Whitman claimed to be even more "realistic" than narrow purveyors of "realism." Whitman believed that democracy itself engenders this experience in its citizens, a sense, to para phrase Paine, that we have it in our power to begin the world anew. Whitman hoped to further enhance this sense of democratic capacity in his work, resist ing the countervailing tendency to treat democratic life as somehow finished and always already accomplished. Conclusion While these concerns may seem a far remove from the prevailing concerns of contemporary democratic theory, some illuminating continuities remain, which a brief concluding comparison with John Rawls's familiar theory of reflective equilibrium can reveal. Rawls's influential effort to construct a moral viewpoint from which questions of right can be impartially adjudicated builds on the moral orientations implicit in an existing liberal society's prac tices. While the later Rawls conceded the historicity of these practices, he, nonetheless, insisted on the existence of articulate, formal principles that could be derived from the practical orientations, habits, and dispositions of the "background culture."74 The Rawlsian democratic theorist must construct 73Ernst Bloch, The Principle of Hope, trans. N. Plaice, S. Plaice, and P. Knight. 3 vols. (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1986), vol. 1, 5-6. 74John Rawls, Political Liberalism (New York: Columbia University, 1993), 14. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp AESTHETIC DEMOCRACY 429 from these practices a coherent set of implied theoretical principles that can then orient the polity on questions of "basic justice." While critics have some times accused Rawls of offering "gifts to the demos" (Sheldon Wolin), or of illegitimately circumscribing citizens' ability to "reignite the radical demo cratic embers of the original position in the civic life of their society" (Juirgen Habermas), one of his central claims is that the constructed principles of justice are implicit within the society's practices, and, therefore, do not violate the people's legislative autonomy or capacity for democratic self determination.75 Rawls's constructivist project translates ethical practice into moral principle. "Reflective equilibrium" is then the process by which a polity reflectively tests itself against its underlying principles of justice, thus becoming more in line with these principles, and, therefore, more just (although Rawls importantly sees this as an ongoing, open-ended process).76 The reformative power of this democratic theory resides in its ability to compel (or, more generously, inspire) the polity to affirm and then act in accordance with its own implicit principles of justice. Whitman imagined his poetry to operate in a remarkably analogous way, an analogy that may be based in his own familiarity with German Idealism. For Whitman, however, poetry's reformative power resided in the aesthetic transformation of a polity confronted with its own practices poeti cally rendered, rather than the moral transformation of a society confronted with the principles of justice implicit to its ethical practice. Whitman trans lates quotidian, democratic practices into poetry, offers a poetic transcription of the polyvocality of the vox populi, thereby offering the body politic an aesthetically transformed depiction of itself as sublime potentiality, which further enhances its latent autopoetic power. Whitman's aesthetic re-presentation of the vox populi does not articulate a law to be obeyed as much as a capacity to be enacted; the people's capacity for regeneration itself becomes the affective source of their political bond. Whitman's poetry urges democratic citizens to take pleasure in the sublimity of their quotidian democratic life, to appreciate their unrefined and unfinished state-their autopoetic and "formative power"-rather than feeling paralyzing "gaggery and guilt." In one of the anonymous reviews Whitman wrote of Leaves, he suggested that through that work "the interior American republic shall also be declared free and independent" (R, 8). The "proof" of the poet's relation to the people he sings is not through the dynamics of recog nition but "that the country absorbs him as affectionately as he has absorbed it" (LG, 26; my emphasis), and the "touch" of the poet tells only in "action" 75Sheldon Wolin, "The Liberal/Democratic Divide: On Rawls's Political Liberalism," Political Theory (February, 1996): 97-119; J?rgen Habermas, "Reconciliation Through the Public Use of Reason: Remarks on John Rawls' Political Liberalism," The Journal of Philosophy 92, no. 3: 109-31. 76John Rawls, Political Liberalism, 97. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp 430 THE REVIEW OF POLITICS (LG, 22), in the further enactment of an as yet unfulfilled democratic history. While some have recently turned to Whitman to revitalize a sense of national pride or American mission,77 he might be more productively invoked for his aesthetic understanding of democratic politics and for his provocation that we self-proclaimed democrats do not yet know what it is we have inherited. ^Most notably, Richard Rorty, "American National Pride: Whitman and Dewey," in Achieving Our Country: Leftist Thought in Twentieth-Century America (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), 3-38. This content downloaded from 132.236.120.116 on Wed, 19 Mar 2014 15:48:31 PM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp Article Contents p. 402 p. 403 p. 404 p. 405 p. 406 p. 407 p. 408 p. 409 p. 410 p. 411 p. 412 p. 413 p. 414 p. 415 p. 416 p. 417 p. 418 p. 419 p. 420 p. 421 p. 422 p. 423 p. 424 p. 425 p. 426 p. 427 p. 428 p. 429 p. 430 Issue Table of Contents The Review of Politics, Vol. 69, No. 3, Special Issue on Politics and Literature (Summer, 2007), pp. 327-510 Front Matter Special Issue on "Politics and Literature": Introductory Note by the Editor [pp. 327-328] Divine Right: Mark Twain's "Joan of Arc" [pp. 329-352] Shakespeare's "Coriolanus" and Aristotle's Great-Souled Man [pp. 353-374] The Politics of the Epic: Wordsworth, Byron, and the Romantic Redefinition of Heroism [pp. 375-401] Aesthetic Democracy: Walt Whitman and the Poetry of the People [pp. 402-430] "Shadows on the Hudson": Isaac Bashevis Singer on the Prospects for Faith and Virtue in Modern America [pp. 431-446] The Original Position in José Saramago's "Blindness" [pp. 447-463] Book Reviews Deadly Unity [pp. 464-466] Silencing Xanthippe [pp. 466-468] Provocateur [pp. 469-471] What a Man's Gotta Do [pp. 471-474] Living for Its Own Sake [pp. 475-477] Some Interesting Things Happen on the Way to the Grave [pp. 477-480] From Communication to Mediation [pp. 480-484] A Peculiar Rhetoric [pp. 484-486] A Good Beginning [pp. 486-489] Contentious Politics [pp. 489-491] No Tea Party [pp. 492-495] The Assertion of Rights in Rural China [pp. 495-497] Informal Politics [pp. 497-500] Fatal Errors [pp. 500-502] Secret Means [pp. 502-505] International Society [pp. 505-509] Back Matter 
work_ltyjjsuzv5bmte5lwviicuufwa	----	ACTA 2 2004 Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 131 GENOMA Y BIOÉTICA: UNA VISIÓN HOLÍSTICA DE CÓMO VAMOS HACIA EL MUNDO FELIZ QUE NOS PROMETEN LAS BIOCIENCIAS Jean-Luc M.J. Antoine* Resumen: La idea de la ciudad utópica es casi tan antigua como el pensamiento humano. Ella consiste en una sociedad teóricamente perfecta y transparente donde todo está perfectamente controlado y, en consecuencia, los ciudadanos podrían alcanzar la felicidad. En este artículo pretendemos reflexionar, mediante una perspectiva holística –y con ejemplos prácticos como la clonación, células troncales y eugenismo–, acerca de la sociedad genética actualmente en ciernes, la que, a pesar de presentarse como una potente herramienta para alcanzar una ciudad utópica, sería hoy imposible por los numerosos riesgos y peligros existentes. Por tanto, creemos importante un análisis sobre la bioética y el progreso, antes de seguir adelante. Palabras clave: Genética, bioética, clonación, eugenesia, células troncales GENOME AND BIOETHICS: AN HOLLISTIC VISION OF THE WAY WE MARCH TOWARDS THE HAPPY WORLD BIOSCIENCES PROMISE Abstract: The idea of an utopian city is almost as old as human thinking. It consists in a society theoretically perfect and transparent where everything is under control, so that citizens could achieve happiness. In this article, using a historical perspective, we pretend to reflect, with practical examples such as cloning, stem cells and eugenics, on a genetic society which is blossoming and in spite of presenting itself as a strong tool to achieve the utopian city, this would not be possible due to the warning for many risks and dangers. Therefore we believe it is important to carry out an analysis on bioethics and progress, before moving on. Key Words: Genetics, bioethics, cloning, eugenics, stem cells GENOMA E BIOÉTICA: UMA VISÃO HOLÍSTICA PARA O MUNDO FELIZ QUE NOS PROMETE AS BIOCIÊNCIAS Resumo: A idéia da cidade utópica é quase tão antiga como o pensamento humano. Consiste numa sociedade teoricamente perfeita e transparente onde tudo está perfeitamente controlado, onde consequentemente os cidadãos poderiam alcançar a felicidade. Neste artigo pretendemos refletir, mediante uma perspectiva holística –e com exemplos práticos como a clonagem, células tronco e eugenismo–, acerca da sociedade genética atualmente em cernes, a que, apesar de apresentar- se como uma potente ferramenta para alcançar uma cidade utópica, hoje seria impossível pelos numerosos riscos e perigos existentes. Portanto, cremos que é importante e necessário fazer uma análise sobre a bioética e o progresso, antes de seguir enfrente. Palavras-chave: Genética, bioética, clonagem, eugenesia, células tronco * Doctor en Genética Humana Correspondencia: jeanluc368@yahoo.fr ORIGINALES Genoma y Bioética - J. L. Antoine 132 “Pensad por cuenta propia y dejad que los demás disfruten del derecho a hacer lo mismo.” Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire Introducción: la ciudad utópica La genómica y la proteómica son neologis- mos de reciente creación que aumentan la lista de las nuevas siglas y técnicas bárbaras que son puestas a disposición de todos, y que han en- trado con fuerza en nuestras mentalidades, cul- turas, discursos y vocabularios. Es hoy común afirmar que las últimas aplicaciones de la ge- nética van a afectar la intimidad de nuestras vidas y que constituirán los fundamentos de una nueva sociedad: el último avatar del mito secu- lar de la ciudad utópica. Sin embargo, estos nuevos logos y las miríadas de siglas, tales como FIV, MBE o PCR, son también símbolos de un cisma cre- ciente en el seno de la nueva sociedad, la cual tiende a dividirse entre “los que saben” y “los que no saben”, entre los “nuevos cultos” y los “nuevos ignorantes”. El distanciamiento social así creado en la aldea global(1) está por gene- rar nuevas castas de individuos (los gobernan- tes y los gobernados, los poseedores y los des- provistos, los privilegiados y los ignorados) dentro de un sistema que va mucho más allá del simple uso de nuevas técnicas y tecnolo- gías y que está bajo el gran control de los mer- cados y de sus iniciados. La nueva Babel tiene el gran riesgo intrínseco de distanciar más aún a los ciudadanos, en lugar de englobarlos en una supersociedad basada en la idea de una nueva democracia fundada sobre la ecuanimi- dad, la igualdad de oportunidades, los derechos a la dignidad y a la felicidad. La gran profu- sión de conocimientos y descubrimientos, así como de las tecnologías que derivan de ellos, todos encauzados por el “gran capital global” y por los políticos fieles o resignados al mando vertical de este último, están generando nue- vas capas sociales transversales a nivel plane- tario, las cuales vienen a adicionarse a las ver- ticales ya existentes en cada país, cada región, cada cultura, cada religión. La utopía de To- más Moro está tomando cuerpo en un mundo global que tiende a perder sus ideales demo- cráticos y, sobre todo, sus ideales de felicidad. La utopía es una técnica de gestión social de los hombres, ubicada bajo el signo de la ra- zón. La ciudad utópica, que debería ser total- mente transparente, está dando lugar, más bien, a una aterradora transparencia del individuo. En efecto, la medicina predictiva, por ejemplo, bajo la presión de las aseguradoras o de los empleadores, podría permitir que información sobre nuestra salud y nuestro posible destino médico esté a disposición de terceros. Ligado de cerca a lo anterior, se encuentra el valor moral que tiene y tendrá la ideación y la concreción de la nueva ciudad global: ¿bajo qué términos éticos estamos construyendo el futuro de nuestras proles? “La felicidad para todos” es el lema que aparece en todas las dis- cusiones sobre el tema, pero tenemos muchos ejemplos históricos de nuevas tecnologías que sirvieron más a la destrucción que a la felici- dad. Es más: ¿quién determina las bases éticas, legales y políticas del uso de tales o cuales tec- nologías? Son aquellos que pertenecen a esa casta de “los que saben” y que dentro de sus centros, escuelas, universidades, capillas y tem- plos determinan lo “bueno” y lo “malo” basa- dos en ideas varias y, a veces, muy discutibles acerca de la felicidad para todos. La utopía clásica nace en el siglo XVI con las convulsiones intelectuales ocasionadas en Occidente por el descubrimiento de América y el consiguiente choque cultural que éste oca- sionó. La utopía emerge en el oscurantismo de la Edad Media, y no es casual el sorprendente paralelismo que se bosqueja entre ese sombrío Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 133 pasado y la ciudad utópica que se está levan- tando sobre la base de un diseño vertical de mando, de castas intelectuales, culturales y socioeconómicas, alentada por la moral pensa- da desde arriba en aras de un mundo mejor, un mundo justo, un mundo feliz para todos. La genómica y sus productos benefactores en la ciudad utópica En este capítulo trataremos algunos ejem- plos de aplicaciones directas y controversiales acerca de los productos biomédicos de la genómica, después de recordar, brevemente, cuál es el concepto de genómica, con el propó- sito de poner sobre el tapete el debate y los interrogantes bioéticos que dichas aplicaciones implican. La genómica como ciencia El neologismo “genómica” se refiere a la ciencia del desciframiento del genoma, ya sea humano o de otras especies. El genoma huma- no es el conjunto de genes que determinan lo que somos biológicamente y –tal vez en parte– intelectualmente. Ese conjunto tiene una base química llamada ADN (ácido desoxirribonu- cleico) que se encuentra dentro del núcleo (karion) de cada una de las células que compo- nen tejidos, órganos y organismos, y que está compuesto de un alfabeto de cuatro bases ele- mentales ordenadas según esquemas muy com- plejos. Esas cuatro bases están organizadas en 23 pares de cromosomas independientes al in- terior del núcleo celular y componen el alfabe- to de unas frases equivalentes a 3.000 millones de letras, las cuales corresponden, luego de varias “traducciones” y “manipulaciones” bioquímicas, a algunas decenas de miles de genes (algunos pretenden que son algunos mi- les) que determinan los caracteres y sus siste- mas de funcionamiento y regulación (por ejem- plo, el color de los ojos, el metabolismo del azúcar, la estatura, entre otros). Un gen puede determinar un solo carácter o intervenir en va- rios de ellos, y un carácter puede derivar de la acción de un solo gen o de varios, la mayoría de ellos siendo multigénicos. Es más, un juego de genes o un gen aislado puede expresarse en un momento y en un lugar dado y no en otro, así como algunos se expresan en un tipo de cé- lulas y no en otro y viceversa; esto permite que exista la “diferenciación celular”, vale decir: esto hace la diferencia entre una célula del hí- gado y una célula de la piel, pese a que ambas contienen el mismo ADN en cantidad y en ca- lidad. Ahí radica la dificultad de dilucidar el funcionamiento de nuestro genoma. Entre todos los individuos que pueblan la tierra, se considera que existe una similitud exacta de 99,9% de todos los genes del genoma, el 0,1% restante hace que seamos distintos uno del otro. Tenemos apenas el doble de genes que una mosca del vinagre (drosofila melanogaster) y existen animales que tienen mucho más que los humanos; la diferencia evolutiva reside en cómo se relacionan y funcionan dichos genes. Un gen o un grupo de genes alterados pueden promover una enfermedad y, de hecho, la ma- yoría de las patologías tienen una base genéti- ca (por ejemplo, el cáncer, la esquizofrenia o la diabetes). Es preciso mencionar que, en este nivel, “genético” no significa “hereditario”, pues para que así sea debe existir una altera- ción génica en las células germinales (reproductivas). Tenemos la convicción de que muchos genes –si no todos– son “inductibles”, es decir, están presentes en el genoma, pero requieren de fuer- zas exteriores (tales como el medio ambiente, la educación, la psicología, la presión social, entre otras) para expresarse. Muchas enferme- dades se explican, desde ya, por la influencia del medio ambiente (mutaciones e induccio- nes), y se descubre cada día que varias conduc- Genoma y Bioética - J. L. Antoine 134 tas psicológicas –hasta sociales– encuentran su explicación en esta aseveración. Lo que hoy sabemos representa sólo pala- bras escritas en un millón de páginas, con rela- ciones horizontales e hipervínculos entre ellas, sin que sepamos lo que significan realmente. Hasta el momento se identificaron menos de 2.000 genes relacionados con 1.500 a 1.800 enfermedades humanas. Faltan por lo menos veinte años, según las predicciones, para cono- cer el funcionamiento de todos los genes, ya que se debe estudiar en profundidad sus pro- ductos primarios (las proteínas) a través de la nueva ciencia que se llama “proteómica”. Fi- nalmente, es preciso mencionar que, pese al desconocimiento del funcionamiento y de la regulación génica, existen muchos marcadores que admiten, desde ya, establecer probabilida- des acerca de la ocurrencia de enfermedades, hecho que permite tanto la prevención de su aparición, como el peligroso control preocupa- cional por parte de las empresas o de las asegu- radoras. Algunos ejemplos elegidos y controversiales de los productos biomédicos de la genómica La clonación humana, el uso de embriones y de células troncales El hombre occidental tiende a buscar la in- mortalidad. Pese a su inexorabilidad, él sigue bus- cando vías para vivir más y mejor, “rejuvenecer” y, sobre todo, no morir. Entre el “morir bien” o eutanasia –en cuyo debate no entraremos por ser irrelevante en este artículo– y el no morir, el occi- dental demuestra un temor a la muerte, a lo des- conocido, a la pérdida de sus bienes, cuerpo e iden- tidad, como ser humano y ser social. No ocurre así en las civilizaciones orientales cuyas filoso- fías de vida son muy distintas. La clonación (también llamada “transferen- cia nuclear” o reproducción exacta –teórica- mente– de un individuo a partir de la introduc- ción de un núcleo celular somático –piel, por ejemplo– en el óvulo enucleado de una mujer y, después, de dicho producto en el útero de la misma) permite llegar a la obtención de un ser idéntico al donante del núcleo. Teóricamente –de nuevo– el proceso se puede repetir de ma- nera indefinida y obtener, de ese modo, colo- nias de clones de la misma persona. En un ni- vel técnico, el cigoto clonal y las células des- cendientes de este último no pueden ser toda- vía las fotocopias exactas de la célula donante de núcleo, dada la influencia de otros factores, tales como el ADN mitocondrial del óvulo enucleado receptor que proviene de la mujer donante y otros agentes citoplásmicos y proteicos. Sin embargo, podemos considerar que los avances de la tecnociencia permitirán, con relativa rapidez, llegar a resolver ese tipo de problemas, lastimosamente a través de la misma clonación. Otro problema biológico re- side en que, para obtener un solo clon, debe sacrificarse una gran cantidad de fetos así pro- ducidos. Esto presenta un gran problema ético, puesto que se está jugando con la suerte de muchas vidas humanas en pos de obtener un “producto” particular. Además de los problemas y de los peligros técnicos aparecen muchos interrogantes éticos. Varios de ellos, que serán descritos en páginas ulteriores, toman en consideración problemas y litigios específicos de la bioética y de los sis- temas humanos. Sin embargo, no tenemos res- puestas aún acerca de la validez de la clona- ción de seres humanos. Sus panegiristas más entusiastas apuntan a la inmortalidad del hom- bre a partir de su exacta reproducción (raelistas); otros aseveran que no estamos frente a un problema ético sino médico, que permiti- rá a personas estériles tener sus propios hijos a través de la doble técnica clonación-fecunda- ción in vitro (Antinori y Zavos); R. Seed afir- ma que la clonación permitirá llegar a tener los Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 135 conocimientos necesarios para frenar el enve- jecimiento y, tal vez, revertirlo, así como estu- diar la influencia del ADN mitocondrial en la senectud celular. Es cierto que existen opciones muy prome- tedoras en cuanto a salud y calidad de vida: un infarto cardíaco podría ser tratado y eliminado gracias a la clonación de las células del mismo corazón que reemplazarían a las lesionadas. En el mismo orden de ideas, la clonación de teji- dos y órganos permitiría tener bancos persona- lizados de material de reemplazo totalmente inmunocompatibles en caso de enfermedad o destrucción. De ahí a solucionar todos los pro- blemas de injertos de órganos y tejidos falta poco; pero ¿es preciso llegar a clonar un indi- viduo entero para guardarlo en un banco de material biológico en caso de que sea necesa- rio injertar al “original”? Sin contar con que el “original”, inmortal y “reparable” a voluntad, podría caer fácilmente en un sistema de vida totalmente descontrolado (fumar y beber sin límite, drogarse, contraer y difundir enferme- dades, por ejemplo) sin necesidad de creer en cualquier tipo de existencia moral. Por otro lado, podrían, también, para evitar esas conductas anárquicas, generarse terribles tiranías totalitaristas y represivas. Todo esto podría conducir a otro tipo de caos: es otra vi- sión posible de la ciudad utópica. Otros problemas éticos esenciales surgen a un nivel social y espiritual: ¿será el clon un ciu- dadano de idéntico “nivel” que el original, con los mismos derechos y deberes? ¿O un indivi- duo de segunda categoría, apto para enviar a explorar otros mundos, trabajar en condiciones peligrosas y servir a los “originales”? En ese caso, no sería tan “grave” su pérdida, pues se- ría “material desechable y directamente reem- plazable a bajo costo”. Ahí surge el tema de la fuerza que puede ejercer el sistema económico sobre las decisiones éticas y políticas, el cual será considerado más adelante. ¿Tendrán esos “seres” un alma? ¿Serán iguales ante Dios, ante los creyentes, ante la metafísica? Lo cierto es que si un día logran llegar a ser biológicamente idénticos, nunca lo serán como individuos pro- piamente dichos, pues existen muchas varia- bles ambientales, educacionales, psicológicas, sociales y espirituales que no pueden ajustarse. El problema espiritual nunca podrá ser resuel- to y esto representa una condicionante ética de gran peso. Otro asunto ligado muy de cerca a la clona- ción es el de las células troncales o células madre (stem cells). Se trata de células embrio- narias –en gran mayoría– de muy temprana edad (antes de la implantación intrauterina, a un nivel de desarrollo llamado “blastocisto”). Esas células son pluripotenciales, vale decir, son capaces, naturalmente, de transformarse y reemplazar a cualquier tipo de las 200 varieda- des de células del organismo humano. Su ori- gen es el embrión, “original” o clonado. Si bien es cierto que las esperanzas terapéuticas del uso de dichas células son enormes –reemplazo o corrección de órganos y tejidos, terapia celular en numerosas enfermedades (diabetes, Parkinson, lesiones medulares, entre otras)–, también despiertan problemas bioéticos impor- tantes. El principal consiste en saber si esta- mos usando simples células o bien si se trata de seres humanos vivos en potencia. Existe un debate casi imposible de resolver acerca de la existencia de una persona humana (real o potencial) a ese nivel de desarrollo em- brionario. La Iglesia Católica Romana, a tra- vés de su autoridad espiritual superior, ha de- cretado, basada en numerosas reflexiones y ase- sorías, que la vida existe en el momento de la fecundación. Otros dicen que sin el doble even- to fecundación-implantación no existe vida. El pensador utilitarista australiano Peter Singer, Genoma y Bioética - J. L. Antoine 136 en entrevista al diario “Las Últimas Noticias” –Santiago de Chile 1 de septiembre de 2004, página 4–, argumenta: “¿Cuándo comienza la vida? Es la pregunta equivocada […] no creo que haya ninguna significación moral en ello […] no debemos preguntarnos cuándo comien- za la vida, sino en qué minuto la vida adquiere un estatus que hace que el acabar con ella sea intrínsecamente algo malo”. También se debe considerar la noción de persona y de concien- cia: ¿cuándo existe la persona? ¿Existe en un “montículo” de células sin sistema nervioso, sin órganos, sin cerebro, o se considera solamente como persona “en devenir”? ¿Tiene alma el blastocisto? Las mismas preguntas se pueden plantear en relación con la conciencia, impera- tiva en la existencia de la persona como tal. Todas las grandes religiones promueven el res- peto a la vida, pero también apoyan el derecho humano a vivir sana y dignamente. ¿Debe la ética orientarse a salvaguardar el derecho a la felicidad y a la dignidad de la mayoría o de to- dos? O ¿debe la ética salvaguardar a cualquier precio la idea de vida, la esencia divina de la vida, aunque sea en potencia? Podríamos lle- gar a lo que muchos considerarían como ab- surdo: ¿hay vida humana, persona y alma en devenir en las células germinales? Aunque no hayan pasado por la fecundación y cuenten con la mitad del lote cromosómico, también son vidas potenciales. ¿Qué pasa, entonces, con la natural destrucción de la gran mayoría de ellas? ¿Qué pasa con el tema de la polución nocturna y del onanismo masculino, con el de las rela- ciones sexuales sin afán reproductivo o, sim- plemente, que no llegan a la fertilización? El eugenismo y el diseño del “homo geneticus” Eugenismo (del griego eu, bien, y gennân, nacimiento) significa literalmente “bien nacer”. El eugenismo es una técnica que busca mejo- rar a la sociedad humana según los conocimien- tos en la materia. Hoy dicha técnica se basa en la genética. Existen dos tipos de eugenismos. El “eugenismo pasivo” trata, esencialmente, de la elección natural que aparece siempre en el momento de optar por rasgos genéticos útiles para la supervivencia de la especie. La mayo- ría de los animales de sangre caliente de am- bos sexos buscan la “mejor” pareja. Una forma muy liviana sería la elección de un cónyuge. Ese tipo de eugenismo no está controvertido, pero sí el “eugenismo activo”, que es mucho más discutible. El eugenismo existe desde los tiempos más remotos, pero el moderno nace con Francis Galton (1822-1911), psicólogo y fisiólogo in- glés, primo de Charles Darwin y pensador victoriano muy adinerado. El es inventor del vocablo (eugenics) –aunque también utilizó el término “viricultura”–, a raíz del cual fundó la Galton Chair of Eugenics en el University College de Londres1. Su formulación del eugenismo se basa en la búsqueda del mejora- miento de las reservas (stock) humanas y en prevenir el deterioro del potencial genético del hombre(2)2. La noción de eugenismo se popu- larizó rápidamente entre los científicos e inte- lectuales de su época. Su trabajo culminó en la búsqueda del mejoramiento racial (race improvement) como eugenismo(3). Sin embar- go, Galton no conocía los trabajos de Gregor Mendel acerca de la transmisión de los carac- teres hereditarios y no podía distinguir entre, por una parte, el mejoramiento genético de los humanos por selección de los caracteres here- ditarios estimados como deseables y/o la su- 1 Para más información, consultar [Sitio en Internet] Disponible en http://www.galton.org 2 Ver: Galton F. Eugenics: its Definition, Scope and Aims. American Journal of Sociology 1904; X(1). En esta publicación se presenta, asimismo, un interesante debate entre Galton, G.B. Shaw, H.G. Wells, entre otros, acerca del eugenismo. Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 137 presión de caracteres estimados como indesea- bles, y, por otra, el mejoramiento de los indivi- duos a través de intervenciones acerca de sus condiciones de vida. Él se inspiró directamen- te en los trabajos y las enseñanzas de Darwin, muy influenciado por Malthus. En breve des- cripción, los principios del eugenismo de Galton se basan en el concepto de compensa- ción de la pérdida de los mecanismos de selec- ción natural. Las leyes del eugenismo de Galton han sido ampliamente debatidas y discutidas y han ins- pirado a un gran número de filósofos y pensa- dores. También han sido tergiversadas a lo lar- go del siglo XX, en particular por los nacionalsocialistas desde 1933. La nueva “ver- sión” del eugenismo nazi consistía en favore- cer la fecundidad de los humanos considera- dos como superiores (política pronatalista, apo- yo familiar, por ejemplo) y, a la vez, prevenir la reproducción de los humanos considerados como inferiores o bien no deseables a nivel eugénico (los criminales, homosexuales, entre otros). No hubo que esperar que Hitler llegase al poder para que una mayoría de políticos ale- manes fueran favorables a ese tipo de eugenismo. Por ejemplo, la ley de 1934 acerca de la esterilización eugénica se instaló gracias a la participación activa del doctor Gütt (médi- co, alto funcionario), del jurista Falk Ruttke y del psiquiatra y genetista suizo Ernst Rüdin. Así, 400.000 alemanes fueron esterilizados entre 1934 y 1945, representando el consenso de la casi totalidad de los miembros de la comuni- dad médica alemana. Luego vinieron las exterminaciones planificadas de gitanos y ju- díos y la esterilización de mestizos, mulatas, norafricanos, indochinos, entre otros grupos. Es interesante notar que esa forma de eugenismo se basaba sobre una noción considerada como mítica de la “raza aria”, también conocida como “raza nórdica” o “raza alpina”. El eugenismo alemán y sus variantes suecas y estadouniden- ses no eran actos aislados de algunos perver- sos, sino un proceso de eliminación sistemáti- ca, basado en técnicas científicas y organiza- das por la administración. Sobre la base de tales antecedentes resulta fácil entender que el eugenismo tenga una con- notación casi exclusivamente negativa. En par- ticular, cuando tenemos a disposición las he- rramientas genéticas necesarias para aplicarlo. En general, el eugenismo conserva muchos detractores (en Alemania, debido al shock que provocó el eugenismo nazi, es casi imposible abordar el tema: pasó a ser una especie de tabú). En otros países el eugenismo está siempre a la orden del día cuando se trata de “mejorar” la especie humana, el individuo, o de eliminar enfermedades potenciales, genes defectuosos y otras fallas biológicas. Una de las escuelas más interesantes es la francesa, dada la enorme ac- tividad en la materia. El eugenismo negativi- zante (que no contempla la libre elección) es una noción que muchos han tratado de cambiar en pos de ayudar al ser humano. Otros nunca aceptaron que el término “eugenismo” fuera asociado a una noción positiva. Está claro que la comunidad judía es la primera en oponerse a tal asociación. Así, nacieron muchas acomoda- ciones del término, las cuales le hicieron per- der todo sentido posible (eugenismo positivo, negativo, activo, “bien entendido”, nuevo, sua- ve, benevolente, científico, humanista, entre otras variadas acepciones). Todas las aplicaciones –o casi– del desci- framiento del genoma humano son herramien- tas potentes que deberían permitir la práctica de un eugenismo benevolente, pero, a la vez, pueden ser utilizadas con fines muy negativos. La clonación, la corrección de genes defectuo- sos, la eliminación de enfermedades genéticas y/o hereditarias, la elaboración de medicamen- tos “personalizados”, la prevención de enfer- medades altamente probables, la utilización de Genoma y Bioética - J. L. Antoine 138 embriones y de células troncales, los transplan- tes de órganos, los xenotransplantes y hasta los transgénicos, son técnicas aptas para participar de manera eficiente en cualquier tipo de eugenismo. La cuestión consiste en saber si es realmente útil o necesario tratar de perfeccio- nar tanto la especie humana. Al tratar de res- ponder a esto estamos nuevamente frente al concepto de “ciudad utópica”, que se transfor- ma en “utopía genética” con el deseo de llegar a perfeccionar a ultranza al ser humano, trans- formándolo en lo que podríamos llamar el homo geneticus. Es preciso recordar que una de las peculia- ridades de la sociedad utópica(4) es la volun- tad de dominio y control integral de la natura- leza y, por extensión, del ser humano. Existe, no obstante, una natural asociación entre uto- pía y eugenismo. Según R. Rutier, el eugenismo es consustancial a la utopía pues ambos resul- tan del intenso afán de perfeccionar al hombre. Desde Platón a Campanella la ciudad utópica se caracteriza por un eugenismo de estado intervencionista que pretende administrar la reproducción humana. Hoy en día, tal como lo vimos bajo la influencia de Galton durante los siglos XIX y XX, el riesgo se inicia con la tole- rancia de un eugenismo individualizado y de- mocratizado. El teatro de Aristófanes, que en- juicia la ciudad de la República de Platón, así como las “contrautopías” del siglo XX (Huxley, Bradbury, Zamiatine), mostraron el elevado peligro para el individuo de renunciar a su pro- pia libertad a favor de una dicha colectiva, pues- to que la realización de las utopías conduce al totalitarismo y al desamparo de los hombres, vale decir, hacia la exacta antítesis de sus pro- pósitos iniciales. Finalmente, no podríamos cerrar este capí- tulo sin mencionar el concepto de “ortogenie” (orthogénie), propuesto por el francés Pierre Simon, con el fin de borrar definitivamente la noción de eugenismo3. Según Cohen4, “...la ortogenie se refiere a los medios médicos que tienen como objetivo una reproducción volun- taria, elegida, permitiendo a las parejas dar a luz niños con buena salud, en la perspectiva de una armonía y de un bienestar familiar”. Es un concepto de no coerción, fundado sobre la li- bertad de elección de los padres y sus deseos de tener un hijo sano. De todos modos, cree- mos, subyace en estas nociones de derecho a la reproducción de niños con buena salud, de ar- monía y de bienestar familiar –aunque sea in- voluntario y basado en cierta noción altamente ética de libertad y de no coerción– la misma ideación de una ciudad utópica, de una genéti- ca utópica y, por consiguiente, de un eugenismo latente y peligroso. Conforme a estos razonamientos, podemos preguntar si es éticamente deseable mejorar lo más posible la especie humana. El debate que- da abierto y promete largas controversias que podrían permitir que se apliquen las herramien- tas biomédicas actuales antes de tener una opi- nión inequívoca. Reflexión. La bioética y su lugar en las decisiones en las biociencias y biotécnicas La bioética emite propuestas basadas en un concilio que reúne a los representantes del pen- samiento moral y que pone, teóricamente, to- dos los estamentos y componentes de la socie- dad alrededor de la mesa. No existe para legis- lar y no es una ciencia, pues no se basa en el método científico, sino en un método en sí ca- 3 “Orto” significa derecho y “genie” deriva de genética, sin embargo, con el propósito de no referirse a la “ortogénesis”, o idea según la cual los organismos vivos evolucionan en una dirección determinada estimulados por una fuerza interna, se adoptó el término “ortogenie” que engloba, a la vez, los conceptos de norma y de gen. 4 Cohen J. Eugénisme et orthogénie. Extracto de los proceedings de la jornada de estudio del 4 de marzo de 1997 sobre eugenismo y reproducción, en París, Francia. Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 139 racterizado por un conjunto de herramientas prácticas y un debate permanente. Algunos factores de riesgo y peligro en las tomas de decisión Existen varios peligros que pueden poner en jaque a las leyes o decretos, debido al tiem- po que se requiere para elaborar estos últimos. Un ejemplo es la clonación de seres humanos o el uso de embriones para la experimentación antes de que existiesen leyes que reglamenta- ran el uso de dichas tecnologías. A mediados de 2001, prestigiosas revistas internacionales, como Time, Wired y Focus publicaron a la clo- nación humana como tema principal, dedicán- dole la portada completa y acentuando sus re- flexiones sobre la conjetura –que varios cientí- ficos sustentaron–, según la cual el primer clon humano se crearía antes del final del mismo año. Mientras muchos países no tienen ningu- na ley sobre el tema, ni siquiera opiniones fun- dadas, otros han optado por legislaciones total- mente opuestas (por ejemplo, EE.UU., Europa y China). Este vacío deja abierta la puerta a quienes desean clonar el ser humano por razo- nes a menudo muy cuestionables. Por ejemplo, los médicos Antinori y Zavos, que argumenta- ron que la decisión de clonar es únicamente médica y no ética, ya que apunta al derecho de las personas a reproducirse. A la vez, se hicie- ron una enorme publicidad. Otro ejemplo es el de la secta raeliana, la cual, apoyada en livia- nas creencias y con la ayuda de grandes respal- dos económicos de fuentes desconocidas, ya está tratando de clonar humanos y se ufana de haberlo logrado hace tiempo. También existe el peligro de la influencia de fuerzas mayores, como el libre mercado en las sociedades liberales, las que se nutren de su creciente economía y que, por lo tanto, depen- den de ellas. La gran rapidez del progreso tec- nológico versus la lentitud de las propuestas éticas en la elaboración de leyes y en la adapta- ción social constituye un factor de riesgo que pone sobre el tapete la eventual necesidad de controlar la velocidad del mismo progreso en pos de velar por la no maleficencia y la justi- cia. De todas maneras, se crea un dilema cuan- do se toma en consideración la necesidad de favorecer la velocidad del progreso como fac- tor participativo en las economías y en el me- joramiento de la salud de los individuos. Adicionalmente, existen reales “batallas” entre las escuelas de pensamiento (moral reve- lada, ética de consenso, utilitarismo, raciona- lismo, materialismo, entre variadas posturas) que permiten aumentar la distancia entre “lo que se dice” y “lo que se hace”. A título de ejem- plo, dos perspectivas totalmente opuestas: la posición católica romana y el materialismo co- munista en cuanto a clonación humana y uso de embriones humanos se refiere. En ambos casos, prima el dogma: la Iglesia se sustenta en la letra de la Santa Biblia (revelada por Dios mismo y, por tanto, incuestionable) y los mate- rialistas maoístas en el dogma de la suprema- cía del todo en detrimento de las partes (de los valores del sistema sobre los del individuo). Uno se opone mientras el otro acepta, afirmán- dose ambos en el principio de una moral de tipo “canónica” y, por ende, indiscutible. Propuestas facilitadoras del necesario concilio en la bioética relacionada con los productos de la genómica Las distintas interpretaciones de los pensa- mientos se vuelven cada vez más centrípetas en cuanto a la genómica y sus productos. La supremacía de la subjetividad ortodoxa sobre la objetividad obtenida por la observación y el debate, metaposicionados en la ética aplicada (bioética) producen discrepancias paralizantes en las propuestas morales. Creemos que un nuevo paradigma conciliador podría ser la pues- Genoma y Bioética - J. L. Antoine 140 ta en “estado de metanoia” (es decir, con lo que está “más allá del pensamiento o del conoci- miento”), enfatizando “la percepción unitaria” que se encuentra en la base de casi todas las creencias y religiones del mundo. Otra aproximación ofrece la escuela de pen- samiento llamada “trascendentalista”, con in- fluencias de Kant y el neoplatonismo, el roman- ticismo inglés y la filosofía hindú; movimiento ideológico que fue propio de las ex colonias inglesas independientes de los EE.UU. en la década de 1830. Ralph Waldo Emerson fue su figura principal y algunos de sus integrantes fueron Bronson Alcote, Margaret Fuller, Theodore Parker, William Channing, Henry David Thoreau, Walt Whitman, el Conde León Tolstoi y el mismo Mohandas K. Ghandi. En esencia, Emerson define su libro Naturaleza (1936)(5) como un ensayo dedicado a la ética natural, luchando arduamente contra un calvi- nismo predominante, fruto del racionalismo del siglo XVIII y de las ideas de la Revolución Francesa que favorecieron la doctrina en boga en la nueva América independiente. Está claro que el trascendentalismo contie- ne los gérmenes del pensamiento de “estado de metanoia” antes mencionado y demuestra, a través de sus más fieles defensores y adeptos, que puede ser una propuesta unitaria y univer- sal de ética teórica y práctica, sin oponerse y sin defender las escuelas de pensamiento en lucha, antes mencionadas. Finalmente, cabe destacar que los movimientos heterodoxos y progresistas, tanto en psicología (desde Reich y, particularmente, desde Perls) como en filo- sofía, antropología y religión (acercamiento de las religiones y filosofías cristianas a las reli- giones y filosofías hinduistas, budistas y taoístas, tanto como a las sufíes, judías y mu- sulmanes) han progresado en ese sentido a lo largo del siglo XX y siguen hoy en día un ca- mino alentador hacia el unitarismo espiritual y humano. Conclusiones La sociedad “genética” que se está bosque- jando no es la “ciudad utópica” de Tomás Moro, pero es un resurgimiento, una nueva forma re- visada por la modernidad y los progresos de la tecnociencia. Después de habernos extendido sobre el posible futuro de los productos de la genómica y de las dificultades y riesgos de argumentar la propuesta bioética, debido a sus debilidades intrínsecas y extrínsecas, así como de haber esbozado una vía posible de conciliación en la ética práctica que podría, eventualmente, per- mitir la unificación de las escuelas de pensa- miento, creemos que, tal como están las cosas hoy en día, sería tal vez indispensable propo- ner una moratoria acerca de la finalidad de los productos de la genómica. El genoma, en su fase actual de desciframiento, no permite aún llegar a practicar el eugenismo, no permite to- davía fabricar medicamentos personalizados, practicar transplantes e injertos “perfectos”, entre sus variadas aplicaciones, pero sí permite ya la clonación y el uso de células embriona- rias, así como clonar individuos, aunque con dificultad. Estamos a la puerta de una nueva era y estamos elaborando la ciudad utópica con todas las dificultades y los peligros que hemos expuesto. Nos parece imprescindible llegar a consensos muy amplios, tomando en conside- ración a todos los pueblos, países, estamentos, religiones y culturas antes de seguir en la vía que hemos emprendido. El propósito es adap- tar mejor la bioética a un espíritu universal y, así, proponer soluciones viables a la humani- dad. Acta Bioethica 2004; año X, NO 2 141 Referencias 1. Castells M. La era de la información: economía, sociedad y cultura. Madrid: Alianza; 1998. 2. Galton F. Eugenics: its Definition, Scope and Aims. American Journal of Sociology 1904; X(1). 3. Galton F. Hereditary Genius. London: Macmillan; 1869. 4. Bacon F. La Nouvelle Atlantide. Paris: Flammarion; 1995. 5. Emerson R. The conduct of life. Nature & other essays. London: Dutton & Co.; 1908. Bibliografía Beck U. La sociedad de riesgo. Barcelona: Paidós; 1998. Harris J. Clones, genes, and immortality: ethics and the genetics revolutions. Oxford: Oxford University Press; 1998. Harris M. Materialismo cultural. Madrid: Alianza; 1982. Jonas H. El principio de la responsabilidad. Ensayo de una ética para la civilización tecnológica. Barcelona: Herder; 1995. Lolas F. Bioética. Santiago de Chile: Editorial Universitaria; 1998. Nussbaum M, Sunstein C, eds. Clones and clones: facts and fantasies about human cloning. New York: Norton & Company; 1998. Singer P. Ética práctica. Cambridge: Cambridge University press; 1995. 
work_lukmvk2otzgerjaohd3ifung4i	----	JMME1602-03.vp Better Mousetrap? Of Emerson, Ethics, and Postmillennium Persuasion Thomas Cooper Emerson College Tom Kelleher University of Hawaii at Manoa1 � Ralph Waldo Emerson reputedly said, “If you build a better mouse trap, the world will beat a path to your door.” In this article, Emerson’s actual quote is seen to infer a simple rule: quality supply attracts quantity demand. Such a rule could imply that enitre businesses related to persuasion, such as public relations, advertising, and marketing seem at best unnecessary and at worst unethical. However, Emerson’s logic may not apply in modern market places driven by multiple competing images. This article proposes eithical thresholds for persuasion and examines the relationship of these thresholds to public relations theory. Two case studies are analyzed in which better-mousetrap logic is applied to test the viability of these thresholds. If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor, though he builds his home in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door. Ralph Waldo Emerson (Yule and Keane, 1889/1891, p. 88) This quotation, first attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson in print in 1889, has a curious history. It is based on notes taken during an Emerson lecture in San Francisco or Oakland in 1871 (Stevenson, 1935). Sarah S. B. Yule or Mary S. Keene recorded notes at the lecture and then transcribed the brief excerpt in their coauthored quotation anthology Borrowings (1889/1891). Although it is now impossible to know how accurate the Yule and Keene (1889/1891) transcription from memory was, Emerson did write a passage within his essays that conveyed the same spirit as the now famous “better mousetrap” proverb. In Common Sense, published in 1855, Emerson wrote If a man has good corn, or wood, or boards, or pigs to sell, or can make better chairs or knives, crucibles, or church organs, than anybody else, you will find a broad, hard-beaten road to his house, though it be in the woods. (Emerson, 1909, p. 528) Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 16(2&3), 176–192 Copyright © 2001, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.. Inherent within both of these quotations, one hearsay but popular, the other actual but obscure, is this implication: There is a direct relation be- tween product quality and customer demand. From a strictly Emersonian perspective, professional persuasion is unnecessary to pro- mote quality products, services, or ideas. Quality speaks for itself through customer satisfaction, which affects word-of-mouth publicity. The sense behind Emerson’s two dicta is that quality products come to dominate the market by forces similar to the laws of natural selection. Ostensibly the fittest products—that is, those of greatest craftsmanship and stamina—will flourish in the marketplace without the need for per- suasive promotion. Thus, in a strict Emersonian-cum-Spencerian/Darwinian universe, per- suasion is probably inherently unethical. Persuasion appears to be a form of conning or manipulation only necessary to interest customers in second- rate products. On reflection such persuasive practices seem in direct conflict with ethical ideals such as “tell the truth”; “improve the lot of others”; “rec- ognize merit”; “maximize good, minimize harm”; “do the greatest good for the greatest number”; and “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” If we strictly apply Emersonian logic inferring that superior products and services will automatically succeed, it follows that persuasive commu- nication is inherently deceptive. Clients and customers are persuaded to buy mediocre and inferior products not for the reasons they are told (“this is the best,” “it is good for you”), but rather, in many cases, to magnify cor- porate profits (Marx, 1900), growth (Galbraith, 1967), or image (Boorstin, 1972). To be fair to Emerson, he does not say, “If you build an inferior wagon, chimney, or fruitcake, it would be unethical to sell it.” Nor does he say, “If you build a better mousetrap, you need not initially persuade people to sample it.” Nor does he write, “People should never buy lower quality products occasionally to save money, trouble, or time.” Such statements seem to be corollaries to his better-known expressions, but they raise ques- tions about whether his implied marketplace is ruled by absolute laws or permits exceptions. Perhaps Emerson would have been realistic in allowing such excep- tions. One cannot be certain in his absence. However, if it is implied that his general rule—quality supply invites quantity demand—is typically accu- rate, then entire businesses related to persuasion, such as public relations, advertising, and marketing, seem at best unnecessary and at worst unethi- cal. A discussion of how Emerson’s logic may be interpreted and applied in modern marketplaces introduces possible ethical thresholds for persua- sion. A look at two cases in which his better-mousetrap logic may apply tests the utility of those thresholds. Cooper & Kelleher 177 Postmillennium Ethics Emerson’s idealized, transcendental logic may well have been more ap- propriate within a 19th-century preelectric America. In the global realities of the 21st century, several questions are not easily answered by the impli- cations of Emerson’s vision. Consider these contemporary queries. What is better? In an age of mixed yet culturally diverse values, competing product designs, long-term versus short-term needs, price wars, and a mixture of human needs and personalities, is “better” an absolute that may be easily identified in every case? Does not the current question of “What is a better mousetrap?” evoke others such as “Does better mean ‘environ- mentally friendly’? Nontoxic? More ‘humane’ to mice? Longer lasting? Cheaper? Less visible? More attractive? More customer friendly? Better track record with Consumer Reports? Instantly lethal?” In India cows are sacred, so is a better hamburger an oxymoron, or does it mean a vegetar- ian burger, or, given that many beef eaters do live in India, does it mean tastier, healthier, prepared quicker, more nutritious, cheaper, less fattening, more energizing, or all of these? Does natural selection occur in the mass mediated marketplace? Do the laws of natural selection apply in a world where artificial rules supercede natural ones, in which mass media dominate word-of-mouth, in which “image” (Boorstin, 1972) may overpower substance? For exam- ple, if an unknown Alaskan candidate is running for U.S. President with- out money, image makers, media appearances, or travel, how will voters “make a beaten path to his door”? No matter how much integrity, experi- ence, statesmanship, and expertise this candidate possesses—perhaps even with a PhD in foreign policy and 20 years in the state senate—how may he, as an unknown, compete favorably with wealthy, media-savvy, household- word candidates? Persuasion seems essential not only to counteract other forms of persuasion (such as the ad campaigns of known candidates) but also to achieve visibility in the first place. If dozens of mousetraps already have high-quality public relations (PR) campaigns worldwide (as opposed to high-quality products), how may a start-up company, seeking to obtain le- gal, copyright, and union protection, give customers a fresh choice without significant investment in media exposure? Does natural selection work in a world of language inflation? Bok (1978) and Schneider (2000) noted the pressures on professors to write letters of recommendation that inflate the accomplishments and potential of candi- 178 Better Mousetrap? dates for graduate school. If a professor knows that other letters of recom- mendation will inflate the value of other candidates, then writing an honest letter about a candidate will create an unfair playing field. To level the playing field, the professor is tempted to lie or inflate the worth of the candidate. Similarly, if several products each claim to be “the best” on na- tional television, how will a product that is truly the best stand out? Prod- ucts do not compete so much with other products as with the images of other products (Boorstin, 1972). Can a product described without any per- suasive or inflated rhetoric survive? “Perception” becomes central to the 21st-century approach to persuasion. If a mousetrap is perceived as better, why should consumers be tempted to purchase another within the same price range and degree of availability? Moreover, if a mousetrap is perceived as better, it may be purchased without any evidence of superiority. Such perception relates to Boorstin’s (1972) world of pseudoreality in which convincing images substitute for truth. Although it may be difficult, after decades of experimentation, to make yet another better soap or orange juice, it is not so difficult to make a better perception, such as that the soap will improve your sex life or the juice will keep you young forever. Persuaders wish to sell the perceived fulfillment to customers’ wants and desires. Because there is a competitive one-up- manship among persuaders to appeal to deeper and deeper human de- sires, the escalation of pseudoreality images about products also fuels the increasing language inflation. Responsibilities Such a norm of rhetorical escalation does not relieve the modern publi- cist, PR firm, advertiser, or sales force from ethical responsibilities. Each must reckon morally with the use and implications of the notion of better. Baker (1999) listed five baselines for the moral justification of persuasion. If a PR firm or other persuader wishes to be, in Baker’s terms, at the higher end of the moral menu, the firm must be at least socially responsible and at best exemplify what is called the “kingdom of ends.” Baker elucidated that the second highest system, “social responsibility,” means one has a higher responsibility to community (cf. customers, clients, humanity) than to self. The highest or most virtuous system for Baker, kingdom of ends, like Kant’s Categorical Imperative, calls for living one’s life as if it were the role model for the world. People and actions are treated as ends in themselves, not justifications for unethical means to someone else’s ends. If professional persuaders wish to be publicly accountable through a kingdom of ends, or even practice social responsibility as described by Baker (1999), they must carefully evaluate their claims of a better mouse- trap in this way: Cooper & Kelleher 179 1. Clear definition: Ethically, persuaders ought not to make claims of better without definition and clarification to the consumer. Is a better ciga- rette an oxymoron? If not, is it a cheaper, tastier, bigger, fresher, or healthier one? Is bigger better? Is it faster? Is more pain killer within a drug automati- cally better or might it produce side effects or blind a consumer to the hidden messages of pain? Persuaders must clearly articulate the meaning of better. Al- though the Federal Trade Commission and Food and Drug Administration (FDA) may legally allow “puffery,” unsubstantiated claims of better, what is legal in one country is not necessarily ethical in that country or elsewhere. 2. Scientific evidence: Although better is often subjective as in a better tasting coffee, better often implies that there is objective data, such as when a car is said to be better because it is safer. Persuaders ought not to imply better in an objective sense unless there is independent, replicable, valid scientific evidence. Whenever possible, professional persuaders should provide the source and nature of the evidence. Failure to reveal the source and current status of full evidence may lead to deception by omission as can failure to disclose the absence of scientific evidence. Such failure may also lead to law- suits, loss of credibility, and harm to both consumers and clients. 3. Context for comparison: Better and kindred terms faster, cleaner, cheaper, softer, easier, and so forth imply a comparative state between a prod- uct and its competition. Ethically, persuaders ought to declare the answer to the question, “Better than what?” It should be clear whether the product is arguably better than all comparable brands or only better than last year’s predecessor model. Is it better than similar products within its price range or best of all? Is it better than it once was (i.e., “improved”), better than it always was, or is it being compared to one or more competing brands? Or, is using the product simply better than using no such product at all? 4. Audience sensitivity: Professional persuaders have an obligation to consider the nature of their audiences. A better condom may be an oxymo- ron to audiences who do not condone birth control. The multicultural and mixed-gender nature of most mass media audiences makes many claims of better questionable or inappropriate. For example, in Fiji women left the room when TV ads for tampons were shown. They were embarrassed to see the ads shown when men were present but also shocked to have such inti- mate, private matters made public among other women. No product or ad can be better if people refuse to purchase or view it. Ethically and ethni- cally, persuaders must ask, “To whom might the product be objectionable? Offensive? Worse? Better?” and “Why?” Summarily, professional persuaders, to be ethical, ought to be account- able to consumers and clients alike. Persuaders may and ought to deter- mine thresholds regarding the notion of better by clear definition, scientific evidence, context for comparison, and audience sensitivity. Thresholds are 180 Better Mousetrap? not only based on ideals but may be established according to such criteria as safety records, laboratory testing, comparative consumer satisfaction (e.g., Consumer Reports), and relative value within a culture. 21st-Century Policy Emerson’s claims may well have been true in the 19th century and are probably still accurate in a publicity vacuum in cases in which a product is demonstrably better to the satisfaction of all. However, within the 20th century described by Boorstin (1972) and Bok (1978), and now within the even more surreal hyper-bowl (cf. hyperbole) competition among 21st- century persuaders, there is no longer a justification for the implication that “All publicity claims are unethical.” Instead the question has become, “Which claims are unethical?” Barney and Black (1994) articulated well the postmodern realistic neces- sity for contemporary persuaders. Within a sea of products and persuad- ers, there must now be an ethics of advocacy. Without advocates, current products and services may not even become available, let alone visible and competitive. Advocates, however, are also bound by ethical guidelines. Barney and Black (1994) correctly argued that persuasion advocates must, for example, abide by Bok’s (1978) three tests for deception. These three tests of when to use deception are … first whether there are alternative forms of action which will resolve the difficulty without the use of a lie; second, what might be the moral reasons brought forth to excuse the lie; and what reasons may be raised as counter-ar- guments. Third as a test of these two steps, we must ask what a public of rea- sonable persons might say about such lies. (Bok, 1978, pp. 111–112) When professional persuaders ask these three questions, they rarely find justification to deceive the public about the meaning of better, best, and similar superlative and comparative language. Professional persuaders must take pains to make sure that they are not practicing deception by de- fining what they mean by better. “Better according to what evidence?” “Better than what?” “Better in what way?” “Better according to whom?” “Better within which cultural context?” It is also important that such prac- titioners make sure their claims of better are internally consistent within all their own organization’s communications. Of PR Theory Succeeding ethically in the marketplace requires communicators to work effectively within an adversarial marketplace as discussed by Barney Cooper & Kelleher 181 and Black (1994) while realizing the moral responsibilities to society evi- dent in Baker’s (1999) discussion of ethical baselines for persuasion. The task of persuading people to buy products, services, and ideas by claiming superiority may fall within the domains of advertising, marketing, and PR. Although these functions are often integrated to increase sales and corpo- rate profits, the idea of treating people and actions as ends rather than means fits best with the theoretical ideals of PR. Marketers, advertisers, and PR people should all be held responsible for defining competitive claims, citing valid evidence, and clarifying the con- text for such comparisons. However, our final method for determining thresholds for ethical persuasion—seeking to understand audience sensi- tivities—falls squarely in the domain of PR. This is not to say that market- ers and advertisers are not concerned with audience feedback, demographics, and psychographics. To be sure, focus groups and test mar- keting strategies are among the firmly established tactics within marketing and advertising. Nor does this mean that public relations people do not practice two-way communication with strong one-sided motivations. Such two-way communication activities, however, are solely designed as means to profitable ends for the organization that sponsors them. These ac- tivities, driven by self-interest, occupy the lower, if not lowest moral ground among Baker’s (1999) baselines for ethical persuasion. Grunig (1993) examined the ethics of two-way communication by de- veloping models of PR that feature two types of two-way communication that an organization may have with its publics: two-way asymmetrical communication and two-way symmetrical communication. In Grunig’s (1993) two-way asymmetrical model of PR, PR people primarily use feed- back and research to persuade publics. That is, they use communications tactics and they use the people with whom they communicate primarily as means to the organization’s ends (usually bottom-line profits). In contrast, the two-way symmetrical model depicts how publics and organizations may communicate more often in a balanced manner; publics have the same op- portunity to influence organizations as organizations have to influence publics. Grunig’s (1993) model of two-way symmetrical communication may be more often prescriptive than descriptive in the field of PR, but it is clearly unique to PR among those industries promoting mousetraps. Symmetrical communication meshes with the third part of Bok’s (1978) three-part test for deception: the test of “publicity.” Bok’s (1978) test of publicity requires professional communicators to shift perspectives and consider “what a public of reasonable persons might say” about ethical decisions. Although this shift in perspectives may be practiced in the form of a careful thought experiment, it requires that professional communicators rise above their roles as advocates and tellers of selective truth and consider how their own 182 Better Mousetrap? opinions may be biased. Communicators who see publics only as means to profitable ends will be hard pressed to predict what publics of reasonable persons might say about their decisions. However, those who primarily communicate with publics in a symmetrical manner will have a more accu- rate and less biased perspective from which to identify ethical claims. Likewise, our test of audience sensitivities in determining the validity of a better-mousetrap claim means that professional persuaders should con- sider what their publics consider to be better before promoting their goods as such. This shift in perspectives requires two-way symmetrical commu- nication with publics. Although such balanced communication at the mo- ment of strategic decision making may be impractical—as when an unexpected question is asked at a live press conference—immediate deci- sions may be informed by past communication with the people potentially affected by the claim. The PR practitioner who practices symmetrical communication will be in an optimal position to inform an organization’s management team about those products, services, or ideas that are better from the perspec- tive of the organization’s publics. He or she will also be uniquely suited to decide those claims that are unethical in promoting his company’s mousetraps in the competitive marketplace. Of Persuasive Practice Grunig’s (1993) public relations models provide a good starting point for discussing how professional communicators can balance on the ethical tightwire between responsible collaboration with publics and successful advocacy in the marketplace (e.g., Grunig, 2000). Yet continuing the dis- cussion of practical thresholds for making ethical claims in the competitive marketplace requires real cases. We examine two cases. McNeil Consumer Healthcare’s Benecol® “Benecol Prelaunch: Laying the Foundation for Phenomenon” is pre- sented by McNeil Consumer Healthcare in Jerry Hendrix’s (2000) Public Relations Cases. McNeil Consumer Healthcare, a unit of Johnson & John- son®, hired PR firm Hill & Knowlton to “help create a phenomenon” by introducing Benecol into the market for “cholesterol lowering functional foods” (p. 283). Clear Definition McNeil Consumer Healthcare defined Benecol as a “new line of choles- terol lowering functional foods” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 283). Trade Cooper & Kelleher 183 media such as Food Processing magazine categorize this type of product as a “nutraceutical,” a health food–drug hybrid (Zind, 2000). The unique point of comparison made between Benecol and other margarine-like spreads is an ingredient called plant stanol ester. Press materials described it as “an in- gredient that helps promote healthy cholesterol levels.… Plant stanol ester is derived from natural plant sources. Stanol ester is also present in small amounts in foods such as corn, wheat, rye, oats, and olive oil” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 292). The product was described by Diane Toops (2000), news and trends editor of Food Processing magazine, as one of the food and packaged goods industry’s “genuinely new and different products”. Benecol, then, was positioned as better than competing products based on its cholesterol-lowering ingredients. Benecol was positioned as better than competing products. Scientific Evidence Plant stanol ester had already been tested in more than 24 scientific studies including reports published in New England Journal of Medicine and Circulation. McNeil and Hill & Knowlton analyzed these studies to con- clude that the dietary ingredient was “clinically proven to reduce total cho- lesterol levels on average by 10%” and that “Benecol reduces LDL, or ‘bad’ cholesterol, on average by 14%” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, pp. 283–284). The product had also been used in Finland for several years before becom- ing available in U.S. markets. Although evidence of Benecol’s long-term health effects is still inconclusive, results from recent studies clearly dem- onstrate its short-term, cholesterol-lowering effects (Law, 2000).2 To get cholesterol-lowering results like the ones achieved in the scien- tific studies, however, consumers with high cholesterol must eat two to three servings of the product a day—a fact Benecol promoters didn’t hide. Two to three servings a day with meals providing 3.4 grams of Plant Stanol Esters daily, as part of a diet low in saturated fat and cholesterol may reduce the risk of heart disease. Benecol Spread contains 1.7g Stanol Esters per serv- ing. (Benecol, 2000) Besides displaying this message prominently, the Benecol Web site for U.S. consumers includes a direct link to the FDA’s “Talk Paper” on related is- sues. The paper, dated September 5, 2000, announced more leeway for Benecol 184 Better Mousetrap? and competing products in making promotional claims to include claims about “reducing the risk of coronary heart disease” (FDA, 2000). Context for Comparison McNeil’s published case study referred only to a “formidable competi- tor” that announced a similar product in the same year. A November 8, 1999 American Heart Association news release reveals more about the competing product called Take Control®. “There are two FDA-approved cholesterol-lowering spreads.… Take Control contains vegetable oil sterol esters from soybeans.… Benecol contains plant stanol esters, which come from wood pulp from pine trees” (American Heart Association, 1999). Nei- ther the American Heart Association nor the McNeil PR team made much of this difference. Rather, the McNeil PR team planned to compete with Take Control on the basis of name recognition rather than distinctive chemical properties. Their first objective was to “establish the Benecol brand and McNeil food/nutrition credentials with key science and con- sumer media and our primary audiences” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). Their second objective was to “preempt competitive threats by being the first to capture the public’s ‘mind share’” (Hendrix, 2000, p. 284). Apparently the context for comparison with traditional margarine-type spreads was the efficacy of Benecol in lowering cholesterol, and the competi- tion between Benecol and Take Control was based more on name recogni- tion than any substantial difference between the two products themselves. Any claim that Benecol was better than Take Control was only implied by Benecol’s highly publicized entry into the marketplace. For example, a May 17, 1998 news release issued by McNeil touted Benecol’s FDA approval and referred to its “success in Finland since 1995 and its phenomenal launch in the United Kingdom earlier this year” (as cited in Hendrix, 2001, p. 288). However, both Benecol and Take Control contain fat. Three servings of Benecol contain 27 g of fat. Some doctors caution against eating this much, whereas others emphasize that consuming Benecol or Take Control is better than eating regular margarine products (“Functional Foods,” 2000; Mirkin, 2000). Another caveat for both products is that they are expensive. They cost about four to six times more per ounce than light margarine (“Functional Foods,” 2000). Audience Sensitivities Authors of the case study mention several publics that were considered critical by Benecol promoters: consumers; nutritional scholars and advo- cates; media; regulatory agencies; “key McNeil players from the Regula- tory, Professional Marketing, Medical, and Communications departments”; and grocery retailers. In communicating with each of these Cooper & Kelleher 185 publics—McNeil’s internal stakeholders as well as those outside of the or- ganization—campaign planners were positioned well to practice two-way symmetrical communication. Obviously, regulatory agencies such as the FDA had the potential to influence the McNeil organization. One issue of “considerable bluster” was the content of health claims McNeil made in promoting Benecol (Neff, 1999). The FDA Talk Paper mentioned previ- ously and Benecol’s link to the FDA Web page suggest that the two organi- zations reached a resolution on the health-claims issues that was acceptable to both. Yet how symmetrical was McNeil’s communication with the other groups in determining if or how Benecol was a better mousetrap? Internal publics were consulted to produce a book of resources to help identify areas of potential crisis, or “what-if scenarios.” And “Benecol briefings” were or- ganized to encourage dialog between “a cadre of credible, recognized advo- cates, and thought leaders” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 285) and national and international media. Given the clear definition of Benecol and the scientific evidence presented, these tactics of communication meet our ethical re- quirements for audience sensitivity. That is, employees, Benecol advocates, news media who cover this industry, retailers, and the scientific community were all presumably willing and able to understand the issues involved and ready to participate in a fair discussion of the product. A greater ethical challenge for McNeil, however, was to communicate openly with consumers to determine whether Benecol was better to them. McNeil conducted focus-group research to define their target audience as “Health/Diet Actives, a group comprised of about 40% of primary grocery shoppers, skewing strongly female with an average age of 52” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). The well-defined demographic profile continued: “Women within this category were diet-conscious yet had difficulty achieving health goals due to feelings of deprivation” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). From this profile, McNeil developed a strategy. “Hence all press materials to consumer media reflected the ease of incorporating Benecol into any daily lifestyle and the health benefit—with no deprivation—of doing so” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). McNeil also used data collected from survey re- search to “craft consumer messages” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 284). Given that consumers were not consulted for any other reason than to sell the product, this type of two-way communication is asymmetrical. But should consumers have been consulted? Discussion It can be argued that McNeil’s advocacy for Benecol in the marketplace, which followed product development with input from professional, scien- tific, and regulatory publics, is part of a broader strategy of symmetrical 186 Better Mousetrap? communication. Even Grunig (2000) held that there is ethical room for what he called “mixed-motive” models of public relations in which collaboration and advocacy are both valued. According to Grunig (2000), symmetry “in- volves two-way advocacy—of both organizational and public interests” (p. 43). Bok (1978) also supported the idea that advocacy, and even deception, is justifiable if all parties involved are aware of and agree to the rules of con- duct. Courts of law and games of poker are examples. Is the consumer mar- ketplace different? Did McNeil and its agency Hill & Knowlton break any of the commonly understood rules of product promotion by implying that Benecol was better than Take Control? Or better than regular margarine? The success of the Benecol PR effort lies in the fact that it flashed on the radar of the American consumer bright and early. How long will it survive the marketplace? Consumers of Benecol will have their say now. And knowing that the product has FDA approval and that no major protestors have made their voice heard in the marketplace, Benecol’s target audience will likely make up their minds based on individual taste and cost benefit as much as promotion. Nestlé’s® Infant Formula Whereas the Benecol case was documented as an example of effective public relations, Nestlé Corporation’s marketing of infant formula prod- ucts in Third World countries is documented as “a case of failed corporate responsibility” (Heath, 1997, p. 124). Clear Definition Infant formula is a substitute for a mother’s breast milk, allowing moth- ers to feed their babies using a mixture of powdered formula and water. Apparently, Nestlé does not deceive mothers about the contents of the breast milk substitute itself. However, Nestlé’s promotional strategies im- plying that formula is better than natural breast milk have been a source of controversy. The main points of contention between Nestlé and its critics are how the product is marketed and to whom. Scientific Evidence The question of whether baby formula is better than natural breast milk has been an issue for decades. However, evidence in favor of natural breast milk is most pronounced in underdeveloped countries. In documenting the origin of boycotts against Nestlé, James E. Post (1985) described the problems that physicians and established medical organizations such as the World Health Organization have observed. Cooper & Kelleher 187 Sanitation and refrigeration are not generally available to the population in many such countries. Water supplies are unpurified, thereby increasing the probability that a formula mixed with local water will produce diarrhea and disease in the bottle-fed child. Poverty encourages the over-dilution of pow- dered formula, thereby reducing the amount of nutrition the child receives from each bottle. Once a mother’s ability to breastfeed “lets down,” the baby must be fed in an alternative way. If the mother is too poor to afford formula, which is an expensive product, there is the temptation and need to place other products in the baby bottle. These products may range from powdered whole milk (which is unsatisfactory for a baby’s digestive system) to white powders such as corn starch. (p. 115–116) According to Post (1985), the controversy over the use of baby formula has brought the attention of advocate groups, health professionals, and govern- ment agencies throughout the world and resulted in a “medical consensus about the desirability of breastfeeding as the best way to provide infant nutri- tion” (p. 115). On its Web site, even Nestlé (2000) acknowledges that “Breast milk is best for babies”, and Nestlé encourages consumers to “consult your doctor or clinic for advice” before using formula (p. 115). However, Third- World consumers are not likely to purchase Nestlé products based on infor- mation delivered via the World Wide Web. In addition, Nestlé’s promotional strategies have often contradicted their formal statements. Context for Comparison Nestlé promoted its products in impoverished areas with advertising that showed healthy, smiling, robust children. They used healthcare sys- tems to distribute samples and posters. “Milk nurses,” who were paid by commission by Nestlé, walked the halls of maternity wards in uniform ad- vising mothers to use formula. Nestlé baby formula was featured in radio jingles, posters, and baby books. The healthy, smiling babies in the ads pro- vided a sharp contrast to the undernourished babies of Third-World popu- lations. “The advertising created an idealized image of what infants should look like and a clear concept of how the ideal could be achieved by even the most destitute of families” (Post, 1985, p. 116). The implied com- parison, then, was that Nestlé’s formula was better than natural breast- feeding as well as other brands of formula. Audience Sensitivities No evidence was found to suggest that Nestlé considered consumers in Third-World countries as anything more than means to profitable ends. This unbalanced relation became an issue Nestlé had to face, however, 188 Better Mousetrap? when activists organized a boycott against Nestlé products in 1977. The boycott remained in effect for many years and “many key publics” entered the fray, including “industry members, media, federal authorities, foreign governments, medical experts, and the World Health Organization” (Heath, 1997, p. 124). By 1981, Nestlé had hired and fired two PR agencies to try to change the company’s image with no significant change in the company’s practices. Nestlé eventually cooperated with others in the industry and the World Health Organization to develop a code of marketing practices. Nestlé hired an outside organization to audit its efforts to improve marketing practices, and by 1984 the major boycotts were lifted. Yet Nestlé’s management strategy was far from a two-way symmetrical model of communication and understanding. Nestlé’s extended initial re- sistance to change and eventual compromises with organized activists do not suggest any genuine concern for the mothers Nestlé and other industry leaders target in their Third World promotional campaigns. Heath (1997) documented the continuing opposition Nestlé faced in the early 1990s. Tay- lor (1998) studied and compared marketing practices in Bangladesh, Po- land, South Africa, and Thailand and found that violations to the industry codes resulting from the baby formula controversy are still prevalent in un- derdeveloped countries. For example, the surveys revealed that formula companies still commonly give free samples of breast milk substitutes, in- fant formula, bottles, or teats to new mothers and use health facilities as dis- tribution channels for promotional information. Finally, consumer sensitivities and interests were ignored. Discussion Nestlé’s persuasive promotion of baby formula in underdeveloped coun- tries appears unethical on all counts. Nestlé failed to encourage mothers to make informed decisions by clearly defining how and when baby formula is better than natural breast milk. Nestlé downplayed relevant evidence that revealed the product’s potential for harm. The image Nestlé created to pro- mote its product in comparison to natural alternatives was presented in a distorted and deceitful context. Finally, among our four tests, consumer sen- sitivities and interests were ignored. That is, the mothers targeted for for- mula sales were clearly treated as means to profitable ends. Indeed, the PR and marketing practices employed by Nestlé are far from the ideals of Grunig’s (1993) two-way symmetrical model of communication. The result is a case study in how not to practice public relations, evident in this case’s in- Cooper & Kelleher 189 clusion in Stauber and Rampton’s (1995) Toxic Sludge is Good for You: Lies, Damn Lies and the Public Relations Industry. Better Is in the Eye of the Beholder? Although better depends on the case, thresholds can be determined by considering the consumers and publics affected by a product, idea, or ser- vice in the marketplace. An optimistic perspective on the Benecol case study is that postmillennium persuasion does not have to be totally re- moved from Emerson’s refreshing logic. If persuaders consider their publics when carefully evaluating their claims of better by considering the thresholds of clear definition, scientific evidence, context of comparison, and audience sensitivities, our capitalistic marketplace may remain some- what grounded. The four thresholds offer practical opposition to the totali- tarian Image of which Boorstin (1972) warned. In an adversarial marketplace, the final decisions on which products are indeed better will be based on consumer trial. Based on the ethics of Bok (1978), Baker (1999), and Grunig (2000), persuaders will be wise to communicate openly with those most affected by their claims. As illustrated in the Nestlé case, however, the better mousetrap can be defeated in the marketplace when reliable, comparative information is withheld or distorted. This brings us back to our second question regard- ing Emersonian logic in the new millennium. Does natural selection occur in the mass mediated marketplace? The Benecol case suggests that if persuaders operate ethically, the laws of natu- ral selection will eventually manifest. Clever promoters will find a way to get their mousetraps noticed in the marketplace. They may even sustain interest for prolonged periods of time using strategic marketing, advertis- ing, and PR. However, if persuaders remain ethical in their claims as dis- cussed previously, informed consumers will eventually choose the mousetrap that is truly fittest for their own needs. The Nestlé study, on the other hand, demonstrated how unethical per- suasion interrupts the process of natural selection in the marketplace. Nestlé’s images of robust, healthy babies posted in maternity wards of Third-World countries promoted formula to impoverished women using strategic images Boorstin (1972) would likely describe as extravagant even for wealthy American consumers. And the strategies worked. Rather than losing profits as a result of the controversy, the infant formula industry continued to thrive in developing nations (Post, 1985). Nestlé touts itself as the world’s largest food company, with products marketed in nearly every country. This level of success, despite persuasive practices that do not meet the aforementioned thresholds for ethical behavior in the marketplace, contrasts with the optimistic thesis that solid business means solid ethics. 190 Better Mousetrap? Does this mean that natural selection doesn’t work in the mass medi- ated marketplace? Neither one of these case studies can provide a con- clusive answer, but the implications are still encouraging. As in the theory of evolution of species, lasting changes are a product of numerous generations, not single cases. Persuaders on both ends of Baker’s (1999) continuum may profit in today’s marketplace. Yet those who observe these ethical thresholds are more likely to enjoy morally sound, long- term relationships with their audiences. Allowing for exceptions, they will also be more likely to predict those mousetraps that will be deemed fittest. Notes 1. Dedicated to Larry Rasky. 2. Law (2000) reviewed the scientific literature related to plant sterol and stanol margarines. The British Medical Journal Web site that hosts Law’s article also includes responses to Law’s review. References American Heart Association. (1999, November 8). New sterol can reduce bad choles- terol. Retrieved June 16, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.americanheart.org/Whats_News/AHA_News_Releases/11-08–99_2- comment.html Baker, S. (1999). Five baselines for justification in persuasion. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 14, 69–81. Barney, R. D., & Black, J. (1994). Ethics and professional persuasive communica- tions. Public Relations Review, 20(3), 233–248. Benecol. (2000, September 5). FDA today announces plant stanol esters in Benecol(lower cholesterol and may reduce risk of heart disease. Retrieved October 24, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.benecol.com/press.html Bok, S. (1978). Lying: Moral choice in public and private life. New York: Pantheon. Boorstin, D. J. (1972). The image: A guide to pseudo-events in America. New York: Atheneum. Emerson, R. W. (1909). Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson: With annotations. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Evans, B. (1968). A dictionary of quotations. New York: Delacorte. Food and Drug Administration. (2000, September 5). FDA authorizes new coronary heart disease health claim for plant sterol and plant stanol esters. Retrieved October 24, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.fda.gov/bbs/topics/ANSWERS/ ANS01033.html Functional foods’ address health problems. (2000, August 14). Houston Chronicle. Re- trieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://ipn.intelihealth.com/ IPN/ihtIPN/WSIPN000/22883/7197/294779.html. Galbraith, J. K. (1967). The new industrial state. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Cooper & Kelleher 191 Grunig, J. (1993). Implications of public relations for other domains of communica- tions. Journal of Communication, 43, 164–173. Grunig, J. (2000). Collectivism, collaboration, and societal corporatism as core pro- fessional values in public relations. Journal of Public Relations Research, 12, 23–48. Heath, R. L. (1997). Strategic issues management: Organizations and public policy changes. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Hendrix, J. A. (2000). Public relations cases (5th ed.). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Law, M. (2000). Plant sterol and stanol margarines and health. British Medical Jour- nal, 320, 861–864. Retrieved October 25, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.bmj.com/ Marx, K. (1900). Das capital. New York: Modern Library. Mirkin, G. (2000, February 25). Benecol and take control. Retrieved October 18, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.drmirkin.com/heart/8137.htm Neff, J. (1999, July 1). Benecol, take control cases crumble FDA regulatory walls. Food Processing. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.foodprocessing.com/Web_First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/DTOS-4LNNHQ/ Nestlé. (2000). In your life. Retrieved July 23, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.nestle.com/in_your_life/ Post, J. E. (1985). Assessing the Nestle boycott: Corporate accountability and human rights. California Management Review, 8(2), 113–131. Schneider, A. (2000, June 30). Why you can’t trust letters of recommendation. The Chronicle of Higher Education, A14–A16. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://chronicle.com/free/v46/i43/43a01401.html Stauber, J., & Rampton, S. (1995). Toxic sludge is good for you: Lies, damn lies and the pub- lic relations industry. Monroe, ME: Common Courage. Stevenson, B. (1935). Famous single poems and the controversies which have raged around them. New York: Dodd, Mead. Taylor, A. (1998). Violations of the international code of marketing of breast milk substitutes: Prevalence in four countries. British Medical Journal, 316, 1117–1122. Toops, D. (2000, March 1). Build a better mousetrap. Food Processing. Retrieved June 16, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.foodprocessing.com/Web_ First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/MEAT-4L8NSX/ Yule, S. S. B., & Keane, M. S. (1891). Borrowings. San Francisco, CA: Murdock. (Origi- nal work published 1889) Zind, T. (2000, April 1). Youth through consumption: Can food products really turn back the clock? Food Processing. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://www.foodprocessing.com/Web_First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/RDAT- 4JZH73/ 192 Better Mousetrap? 
work_luwktvee45bsrohtiqlyqq3dce	----	La culture urbaine au Canada et les formes de la culture de l’imprimé aux XVIIIe et XIXe siècles All Rights Reserved © Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 2004 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 20:59 Urban History Review Revue d'histoire urbaine La culture urbaine au Canada et les formes de la culture de l’imprimé aux XVIIIe et XIXe siècles Yvan Lamonde Volume 33, numéro 1, fall 2004 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1015674ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1015674ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine ISSN 0703-0428 (imprimé) 1918-5138 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer cet article Lamonde, Y. (2004). La culture urbaine au Canada et les formes de la culture de l’imprimé aux XVIIIe et XIXe siècles. Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 33(1), 46–50. https://doi.org/10.7202/1015674ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1015674ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1015674ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/2004-v33-n1-uhr0580/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ La culture urbaine au Canada et les formes de la culture de l'imprimé aux XVIIIe et XIX* siècles Yvan Lamonde La culture de l'imprimé constitue une des formes d'expression et de communication de l'homme. Faisant appel à l'instruction et à l'alphabétisation, elle présuppose une possibilité écono- mique d'accès à ce médium qu'est le livre ou le journal. Avoir, savoir et pouvoir allant souvent de pair, la culture de l'imprimé fut longtemps celle d'un segment social privilégié, d'une élite faite de marchands, de gens de professions libérales, de mili- taires et de membres du clergé. L'imprimé ne représente donc qu'un pan de la culture, celui de l'expression des idées et des représentations. La culture ou l'expression peut aussi être orale, celle des légendes, des contes, des chansons; elle peut être gestuelle, utiliser le corps et prendre des formes variées de ma- nifestations; la culture matérielle recourt aux artefacts comme moyens d'expression tandis que la culture médiatique passe par les médias de communication de masse, elle-même portée par la technologie et les industries culturelles. Chacune de ces formes d'expression n'est évidemment pas cloisonnée et peut entretenir un rapport à une autre forme, le cas de figure le plus exploré étant celui des rapports entre la culture de l'oralité et la culture de l'imprimé. Les travaux d'Elizabeth Eisenstein, de Roger Chartier et de Robert Darnton l'ont montré : les modes d'appropriation populaire de l'imprimé prennent les formes les plus variées et l'accès permanent à l'imprimé est une activité avec des allers et retours. L'approche analytique la plus usuelle de l'imprimé est celle de son système ou du « circuit de la communication1 » , c'est-à- dire la production, la diffusion, la consommation ou réception de l'imprimé. L'agglomération et la ville sont la plupart du temps présentes dans les travaux sur la culture de l'imprimé, consti- tuant le présupposé des études sur l'école et l'alphabétisation, sur une entreprise d'imprimerie, sur un commerce de librairie, sur l'implantation d'un cabinet de lecture ou sur la fondation d'une bibliothèque. Mais ce présupposé est très rarement thé- matisé, considéré pour lui-même, comme on s'en convaincra en consultant la bibliographie internationale d'histoire du livre et de l'imprimé « Book History Online >>. Un certain nombre d'indicateurs culturels suggèrent d'entrée de jeu des corrélations entre le développement de la culture de l'imprimé et le fait de vivre en milieu aggloméré. Comme l'a montré Michel Verrette, par exemple, le lieu de résidence constitue l'une des variables décisives du taux d'alphabétisa- tion dans une société, à côté de l'occupation professionnelle, de la religion, de la langue et du sexe2. Cette prise en compte du lieu de résidence permet de comprendre le taux d'alphabé- tisation plus élevé des anglophones du Canada colonial, qui vivent essentiellement dans les villes. La densité démographi- que explique aussi la mise sur pied d'écoles privées ou publi- ques dont la création est souvent retardée en milieu rural par l'éloignement, la dispersion des populations et les distances à franchir. C'est encore la densité démographique, jointe aux fonctions commerciale et politique de la vie en société, qui rend intelligibles l'implantation en un lieu d'une imprimerie et la publi- cation d'une « gazette ». La même corrélation prévaudra le jour où l'on voudra électrifier le Québec et le Canada et implanter un réseau téléphonique : il ne sera d'abord rentable de le faire que dans des lieux où l'on pourra multiplier les « poteaux » dans un périmètre spatial donné. L'implantation du téléphone, de la radiophonie et la possession d'un récepteur radiophoni- que seront fonction des mêmes variables3. Dans le cadre des travaux sur l'histoire du livre et de l'imprimé au Canada4, le propos de ce texte sera double : explorer d'abord, de façon non quantitative, les « coefficients de corréla- tion » possibles entre, d'une part, ce qui relève de la culture de l'imprimé—le circuit complet de sa production, de sa diffusion et de sa consommation/réception—et, d'autre part, les diffé- rentes fonctions généralement attribuées à l'agglomération et à la ville : fonctions commerciale et industrielle, administrative et judiciaire, civile/politique et religieuse, militaire et commu- nicationnelle, autant de « variables » qui viennent qualifier la variable démographique au centre de la réalité urbaine5, puis, ce faisant, de proposer des pistes de recherche dont l'une vise- rait l'analyse quantitative des diverses institutions associées à la culture urbaine. La culture urbaine dont il est ici question est celle des villes en formation à la fin du XVIIIe siècle (l'imprimerie au Canada date de 1752) et pendant la première moitié du XIXe. L'accent est mis sur le processus de formation de la culture urbaine plutôt que sur son accomplissement. Population On aurait tendance à déclarer prioritaire la variable démogra- phique, à tout miser sur la densité et à penser qu'il y a un seuil de population au-dessus duquel le décollage culturel est non seulement possible, mais inévitable sinon mécanique. Cette vision ne résiste évidemment pas à l'analyse, qui doit ajouter au nombre et à la quantité, la spécificité de la population con- cernée. L'importance des Loyalistes dans l'implantation d'une culture de l'imprimé et de ses institutions dans les colonies atlantiques d'Amérique du Nord au XVIIIe siècle témoigne de la présence significative d'une certaine immigration, à la fois britannique et/ou étatsunienne, arrivant avec une connaissance des conditions d'existence requises à la création et à la survie d'une imprimerie et d'une gazette en milieu colonial américain. De même, après 1763 et 1815, l'immigration anglo-écossaise dans la « Province of Quebec » et au Bas-Canada est consti- tuée d'administrateurs et de marchands instruits sinon lettrés, qui s'installent le plus souvent dans les villes, y fondent des écoles et se donnent des institutions coloniales sur le mo- dèle de celles qu'ils ont connues en métropole, que ce soit la bibliothèque par souscription—faussement appelée « publi- que » - , la Quebec Literary and Historical Society (1824), la Natural History Society of Montreal (1827) ou le mouvement (1828) des Mechanics' Institutes. Chez ces Anglo-écossais, le statut de l'immigration joue un rôle décisif comme en témoigne le développement de la presse : alors qu'ils ne représentent ja- mais plus de 22 pour cent de la population de 1764 à 1859, ils 46 Urban History Review /Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXXIII, No. I (Fall 2004 automne) La culture urbaine au Canada fondent 58 pour cent des journaux. Dès la décennie 1810-1819, le nombre de journaux anglophones dépasse celui des titres francophones à Montréal (6 contre 3) et à Québec (4 contre 1) puis au total (10 contre 5)6. La population franco-catholi- que passée sous une nouvelle allégeance anglo-protestante (monarchie constitutionnelle et non plus absolue), coupée pour l'essentiel de sa métropole politique et culturelle, supplantée dans les fonctions économique, commerciale et administrative par les « anciens sujets », majoritairement rurale et agricole, ne pouvait pas ne pas avoir avec la culture de l'imprimé un rapport différent. La centralité des villes et la structure spatiale des villes moyennes La ville elle-même tient son importance de son environnement, selon qu'elle sert de relais entre deux grands centres, selon qu'elle joue sur sa centralité entre des villages prospères et qu'elle dispose d'un pouvoir d'attraction utile à sa fonction com- merciale et culturelle. J.-P. Bernard a proposé avec raison de comparer Saint- Hyacinthe avec Sorel, Nicolet et Saint-Jean pour explorer cette notion de « centralité » et voir ce qu'un lieu central tient d'autres lieux périphériques. Villages, gros bourgs et notabilité locale expliquent, par exemple, la présence d'agents d'abonnements à des journaux et celle d'abonnés, qui s'ajoutent au bassin même des lecteurs possibles d'un lieu principal. L'analyse at- tentive des agents des journaux identifiés dans chaque numéro d'un journal donné fournirait un indicateur supplémentaire de l'importance spécifique du lieu de son impression. La détermination des villes moyennes peut évidemment se faire par la prise en compte de la population. Mais à nouveau les corrélations avec la culture de l'alphabétisation et de l'imprimé sont multiples. La distribution spatiale des imprimeries, des journaux ou des bureaux de poste montre clairement la struc- ture urbaine spécifique du Haut-Canada7. Le maître de poste est un agent central de la culture de l'écrit et de l'imprimé, étant même souvent l'agent d'abonnement aux journaux dans des localités. L'analyse des corrélations entre population et présence d'un ou de périodiques en un lieu donné pourrait être poussée en utilisant les répertoires de la presse de Meikle (1858), Wood (1876) et McKim (1892). Sans faire ici la critique interne de cette source documentaire, le répertoire de Meikle indique que, pour le Québec, hors Montréal avec 75 000 habitants et Québec avec 60 000, la population d'agglomérations ayant un journal varie de 400 habitants (Granby) à 7 000 (Trois- Rivières), la moyenne se situant à 2 825 habitants pour Aylmer, Drummondville, Granby, Sherbrooke, Sorel, Saint-Hyacinthe Standstead etTrois-Rivières8. Outre le fait qu'il existe une corrélation entre l'essor de la presse et celui des instituts d'artisans (Mechanics' Institutes), le dé- veloppement de ceux-ci constitue un autre indicateur possible de l'analyse comparée de la démographie et de la culture de l'imprimé et de la centralité des agglomérations, l'institut d'arti- sans mettant à contribution l'enseignement, la bibliothèque et la salle de périodiques. Il se fonde dans les colonies d'Amérique du nord britannique, entre 1828 et 1851, année de la passation d'une loi au Canada-Uni sur les instituts d'artisans, 69 institu- tions de ce type : 15 avant 1840 dont sept au Haut-Canada, 54 entre 1840 et 1851 dont 20 au Haut-Canada. Il faudrait pour ces agglomérations pondérer la population, la présence d'une école ou d'un collège et d'autres institutions liées aux diverses fonctions de la ville; on pourrait commencer à le faire grâce à l'enquête de Samuel May qui remet en 1881 son rapport sur l'implantation et l'évolution des instituts d'artisans en Ontario. De surcroît, la superposition de la carte des instituts d'artisans ainsi obtenue avec celle des lieux possédant à partir de 1901 une bibliothèque Carnegie ferait sans doute ressortir une dynamique structurelle entre la démographie et la culture de l'imprimé en Ontario au XIXe siècle9. L'exercice pourrait évidem- ment être répété là où des sources similaires le permettent. La répartition des villes moyennes peut tenir à l'installation d'une entreprise nouvelle qui génère une activité commerciale et culturelle. On pense ici à la World Publishing10 installée à Guelph qui va voir essaimer les colporteurs et agents de sous- cription à des livres religieux et pratiques dans l'ensemble de la région. L'expérience canadienne, singulière mouture d'espace et de temps, permet d'observer cette notion de centralité quasi in vitro lorsqu'on porte attention au développement de l'Ouest canadien après 1870, et particulièrement à la reprise sinon à la répétition des modèles d'évolution de l'imprimé. L'établissement d'une imprimerie et d'un journal à la « frontière », dans les Prairies—la « mission press » du révérend James Evans en 1840, le Nor'Wester à Fort Garry en 1859—permet à nouveau d'observer autrement les variables qui jouent dans la mise en place d'une culture de l'imprimé. Ces variables—l'administra- tion, l'évangélisation en général et celle des Amérindiens en particulier—répètent souvent le scénario de développement de l'imprimé dans les provinces Atlantiques, au Bas-Canada ou au Haut-Canada. Gens de papier, gens de verbe, gens de comptoir Si la variable démographique n'est pas si impérialiste qu'il n'y paraît au premier abord, qu'en est-il de la fonction politique de la ville dans l'émergence d'une culture de l'imprimé? Les fonctions civiles et administratives de l'État et des diverses ins- tances de gouvernance paraissent bien être les déterminants majeurs de la production de l'imprimé. Pour que nul n'ignore la loi, il faut la publier, la rendre publique et en assurer l'archivage. « No taxation without representation », « no administration / no representation without printing », pourrait-on dire. Ce sont les capitales législatives qui inaugurent la culture de l'imprimé au Canada : dis-moi où il y a un parlement, je te dirai là où il y a une imprimerie, un journal, une bibliothèque. L'appareil exé- cutif, législatif et judiciaire post-Gutenberg ne peut se passer de l'imprimé, d'un journal des débats, du corpus des lois et règlements que cet appareil dépose dans la bibliothèque qu'il se donne et qui, au Canada-Uni, se déplace même avec le 41 Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXXIII, No. 1 (Fall 2004 automne) La culture urbaine au Canada Parlement de Québec, à Kingston, à Montréal, à Toronto puis à Bytown-Ottawa. La ville législative avec ses empilages d'ar- chives, de registres et d'imprimés témoigne à la fois de l'im- portance de la variable démographique, de la variable civique et de la variable sociale, nommément la population instruite et lettrée qui s'y trouve immanquablement. S'il y a une centrante urbaine créée par la culture de l'imprimé, c'est bien celle des villes législatives d'Halifax à Victoria. C'est la capitale politique qui crée l'imprimé colonial, qui le rend nécessaire et omnipré- sent. L'étude comparée du développement des villes de Québec et de Montréal durant la première moitié du XIXe siècle révèle de façon inédite les variables autres que démographique qui assu- rent le décollage de Montréal. Maurice Lemire a bien vu com- ment pour Québec « l'hégémonie culturelle est plus attachée à la capitale qu'à la ville11 >>. Formellement, Québec, capitale, lieu de résidence du gouverneur de la colonie, ville de garnison et siège jusqu'en 1836 du seul diocèse catholique, garde une suprématie sur Montréal jusqu'en 1840, alors qu'à la suite du régime d'Union et de mobilité de la capitale, la ville de l'histo- rien Garneau voit décliner ses fonctions politiques et culturelles. Mais déjà depuis 1810, on l'a vu, le nombre de périodiques publiés à Montréal dépasse celui de Québec : neuf contre cinq pour la décennie 1810, 36 contre 10 pour la décennie 1830. Au début de la décennie 1830, Montréal supplante Québec en re- gard de la population, au moment précisément où la population anglophone devient pour trois décennies légèrement mino- ritaire12. Montréal bénéficie du passage de l'économie de la fourrure à l'économie du bois, de l'activité de l'import-export, de la politique de canalisation en amont des rapides de Lachine, des échanges avec les États-Unis via le Richelieu que le premier chemin de fer Laprairie-Saint-Jean relie en 1836. C'est aussi à Montréal et dans la grande région montréalaise que la politisation et l'agitation patriote s'expriment par le Parti Patriote et La Minerve (1826). C'est à Montréal enfin que se développe le phénomène associatif francophone (Institut canadien), qui prend modèle sur les institutions anglophones déjà établies13. À d'autres instances, la fonction administrative et judiciaire de la ville se donne pignon sur rue dans un bureau d'enregistrement de district—qui rappelle précisément la centrante du lieu au milieu de divers comtés électoraux - , dans le siège d'une Cour de circuit et dans un palais de justice. Notaires, protonotaires, avocats, juges, greffiers et shérifs sont gens d'écriture et de pa- pier et leurs écrits restent (scripta marient), sur des formulaires imprimés par milliers chez les Neilson, chez Ludger Duvernay ou chez George Maclean Rose. La vie publique naît avec le mot publication et le mot publicité; l'espace public naît de cette racine linguistique commune14. Mais pas plus que la variable démographique, la fonction politique et administrative ne doit faire illusion. Si les gazettes paraissent d'abord dans les capitales politiques des territoires coloniaux, la fonction commerciale des principales agglomé- rations prend rapidement le relais dans la création et la survie des journaux. L'activité commerciale d'un lieu devient vite la variable décisive de la presse. La rapide prédominance de Montréal l'a indiqué. La survie de journaux hors des grands centres le rappelle : des 46 journaux publiés dans 22 agglo- mérations autres que Montréal et Québec au Bas-Canada entre 1764 et 1859, 15 sont publiés à Trois-Rivières et, parmi ces 15 titres, deux seulement franchissent le cap des cinq ans d'existence. Et si la survie dépend de la fonction commerciale exprimée par l'inclusion de publicité dans le journal, la Gazette de Trois-Rivières ne parvient qu'une seule fois à se donner une surface publicitaire de 15 pour cent; alors que la Gazette de Québec/Québec Gazette présente une surface consacrée à la publicité de plus de 20 pour cent jusqu'en 1800, de plus de 50 pour cent en 1842 et de 60 pour cent en 1855, et que Le Canadien compte un tiers de publicité entre 1843 et 1846 et deux tiers une décennie plus tard15. Le cas de la librairie est particulièrement évocateur des rapports entre la démographie, la fonction commerciale et la culture de l'imprimé, la librairie étant au départ un commerce, celui du livre et des périodiques. L'émergence du commerce de l'imprimé ne peut se comprendre que comme spécialisa- tion progressive du commerce d'import-export, du commerce général : la librairie commence comme « Book-Store » et décrit à sa façon le processus d'autonomisation, dans la ville, des mé- tiers du livre (imprimeur/libraire/éditeur), de spécialisation de la marchandise dans les commerces et de lente canadianisation des effectifs et des inventaires. La librairie peut vivre de la ville commerçante, tout comme l'encan vit de la présence d'une notabilité : l'encan de livres et les catalogues de bibliothèques privées et de livres mis à l'enchère ne sont possibles que par l'existence d'une certaine masse critique de juges, d'avocats, de notaires, de médecins et de membres du clergé. L'analyse détaillée des lieux où existe un commerce de livres avant 1840 devrait en outre permettre de voir que, si la ville commerçante et une notabilité locale en rendent l'existence possible, la librai- rie et le libraire sont dans la ville des agents socio-culturels et socio-politiques16. La fonction économique de la ville apparaît là où on ne l'attend pas habituellement, dans l'association volontaire à projet cul- turel, par exemple. L'Institut canadien de Montréal (ICM, 1844), synthèse de l'association « littéraire » ou, mieux, culturelle qui traverse l'Union, de la « mercantile library » et du « mechanics' institute », remplit quatre fonctions liées d'une façon ou d'une autre à la culture de l'imprimé ; il met à la disposition de ses membres et abonnés une bibliothèque, une salle de périodi- ques, organise des débats entre membres et des conférences publiques, mettant exceptionnellement sur pied un musée où l'estampe est présente. Si l'on s'en tient aux figures et aux activités les plus visibles de l'ICM, on y voit d'abord et avant tout une association de gens de Droit éloquents, occupés à faire un apprentissage de la parole publique et à se faire un nom. La disponibilité d'archives permet toutefois de se frayer un chemin parmi les membres de l'Institut et de voir jusqu'où la réalité économique—commerciale et industrielle—constitue vraiment le nerf de la guerre de l'institution. Durant la période 48 Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXXIII, No. 1 (Fall 2004 automne) La culture urbaine au Canada archivistiquement observable (1855-1883), période donc où Montréal connaît une activité commerciale intense et un décollage industriel, où les gens du comptoir se multiplient, où des ouvriers se spécialisent et s'alphabétisent, le clivage entre le membership et le leadership de l'Institut canadien se révèle dans toute son ampleur. Ce sont les gens du comptoir, du sec- teur de la distribution et des services—négociants, marchands, commis, commis-marchands, teneurs de livres, imprimeurs- typographes—qui constituent la masse critique des membres, qui lisent les feuilletonistes français (les Dumas, père et fils, Souvestre, Féval, Aimard, Ponson du Terrail) mis à l'Index par l'Église catholique. Mais ce sont les gens de Droit qui accapa- rent le leadership, les seuls avocats occupant 34,1 pour cent des postes de direction de l'Institut contre 15,8 pour cent pour les marchands, négociants et commerçants. Dans l'association volontaire culturelle qui s'ouvre socialement, la place et le poids relatif des dimensions commerciale et économique de la ville s'imposent manifestement. D'une certaine façon, le nombre (les gens du comptoir) reprend sa prépondérance, mais c'est à nouveau un nombre conjugué à une variable sociale, l'occu- pation, qui permet de raffiner l'analyse et de voir que le nombre ne mène pas nécessairement au leadership17. Fonctions communicationnette et militaire La supposée valeur absolue du nombre dans l'analyse d'une culture urbaine naissante est confrontée à une autre variable qui peut paraître tout aussi déterminante, la position géogra- phique initiale d'un lieu et les fonctions tirées de ce choix. L'établissement d'agglomérations sur la première côte maritime découverte (Halifax), le long d'un fleuve (Québec), à la rencon- tre d'un fleuve et d'une rivière (Sorel) ou de plusieurs affluents (Trois-Rivières), en aval de rapides un moment infranchissa- bles (Montréal), en un lieu (Saint-Jean) en amont de rapides (sur le Richelieu) et en aval d'un réseau hydrographique (lac Champlain et rivière Hudson) ne part pas du nombre et de la densité mais y mène. Souvent choisis pour leur position stratégique militaire, ces lieux connaissent un développement économique plus rapide lorsque, la sécurité une fois assurée, le réseau fluvial révèle ses potentialités commerciales et permet à un lieu de drainer l'activité économique de \'hinterland. Mais aucun destin n'est assuré : Sorel et Saint-Jean plafon- neront comparativement à Saint-Hyacinthe, qui, fondée aussi sur une rivière, connaîtra son décollage avec le chemin de fer après 1850. Certes, un collège y est déjà établi, mais la presse, l'évêché et le mouvement associationniste verront le jour pen- dant la décennie du chemin de fer, moyen de communication plus rapide, plus versatile en toute saison et relié aux villes éco- nomiques centrales. Le chemin de fer change le paysage du système postal, de l'acheminement de la presse et des biens : qu'on pense au réseau des gares au XIXe siècle et à l'apparition du catalogue des grands magasins à rayons qui acheminent en milieu rural des biens qui modifient la vieille production artisanale de meubles ou de jouets18. Ce sont aussi les « gros chars » qui permettent la mise en tournée des conférenciers, des « public lecturers », comme ce fut le cas aux États-Unis avec Ralph Waldo Emerson, par exemple. Le phénomène a joué au Bas-Canada, mais à une échelle minimale—Louis- Antoine Dessaulles, par exemple, prenant les « chars » à Saint- Hyacinthe pour aller entendre ou faire une conférence publique à l'Institut canadien de Montréal. La fonction militaire initiale d'un lieu a souvent rendu possibles des formes de sociabilité et l'implantation d'infrastructures liées à la culture de l'imprimé. Le développement des « clubs » et de certains sports est intimement lié au Canada aux militaires et aux villes de garnison. La bibliothèque de la garnison d'Halifax fut mise sur pied par l'autorité militaire, mais elle était aussi accessible à la population civile19. Les fonctions civile et religieuse de l'agglomération La prise en compte des institutions relevant de la responsabilité de l'État ou des églises devrait aussi faire partie d'une analyse des déterminants de la culture urbaine. Dans une étude qui chercherait précisément à pondérer les facteurs qui jouent un rôle dans l'organisation culturelle d'une agglomération, la présence d'une école, d'un collège, d'une école normale, d'une université—lieux d'apprentissage et d'usage de la culture de l'imprimé—, d'une église et d'un évêché—institution où se croisent la culture orale et la culture imprimée—éclairerait à sa façon le poids du nombre et celui d'autres variables. Pour la suite J'ai fourni des cas de figures d'institutions liées à la culture de l'imprimé, tout en suggérant comment, pour ces institutions culturelles, les variables qui rendent possible la culture urbaine peuvent jouer entre elles et, particulièrement, avec la variable démographique. Institutions civiles Assemblée législative siège de Cour de circuit bureau de poste bureau d'enregistrement palais de justice école, collège, école normale, université association volontaire à vocation culturelle bibliothèque Institution militaire garnison Institutions religieuses église siège episcopal Entreprises commerciales imprimerie bureau d'un journal librairie commerce d'encan cabinet de lecture (reading room, news room) bibliothèque de location (circulating library) 49 Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXXIII, No. 1 (Fall 2004 automne) La culture urbaine au Canada Ces cas de figures et les données qu'elles comportent ap- pellent des monographies avec une quantification des plus poussées. La stratégie la plus efficace me semble de travailler d'abord sur des lieux spécifiques, dans une même ville, que cette ville soit de taille moyenne ou petite ou qu'il s'agisse d'une ville principale. L'enquête pourrait être menée sur Sorel, Pictou, Niagara, sur Trois-Rivières, Hamilton, Victoria, sur Halifax, Québec, Montréal, York/Toronto. Il me semble clair que, si une telle analyse peut paraître plus facile à faire pour les villes principales en formation, les besoins de l'historiographie cana- dienne et québécoise de la culture urbaine plaident en faveur d'études sur des « Middletowns >> et sur ces agglomérations qui permettent de voir comment les seuils de développement culturel sont franchis. Notes 1. Robert Darnton, « What Is the History of the Book? », Daedalus 111 (1982) : 65-83; pour une autre approche, Thomas R. Adams et Nicolas Barker, « A New Model for the Study of the Book », dans Nicolas Barker, dir., A Potencie of Life : Books in Society (Londres : The British Library, 1993), 5-43. 2. Michel Verrette, L'alphabétisation au Québec 1660-1900 (SWlery : Septentrion, 2002), chap. 4; « L'alphabétisation de la population de ville de Québec de 1750 à 1859 », Revue d'histoire de l'Amérique française 39, n° 1 (été 1985) : 51-76. 3. Elzéar Lavoie, « L'évolution de la radio au Canada français avant 1940 », Recherches sociographiques 12 (1971) : 17-49; Claire Poitras, La cité au bout du fil : le téléphone à Montréal de 1879 à 1930 (Montréal : Presses de l'Université de Montréal, 2000). 4. Sur le projet en question : www.hbic.library.utoronto.ca. Le propos ici s'alimente à mes propres travaux et aux textes des deux premiers volumes de ce projet : vol. 1 (Des débuts à 1840) (Montréal et Toronto, Presse de l'Université de Montréal et Toronto University Press, 2004), vol. 2 (1840- 1918) à paraître à l'automne 2005. 5. Jean-Paul Bernard, « Les fonctions intellectuelles de Saint-Hyacinthe à la veille de la Confédération », Société canadienne d'histoire de l'Église catholique, Sessions détudesAl (1980) : 5-17; Jean-Pierre Martin, « Villes et régions de Québec au XIXe siècle. Approche géographique » (Université Louis Pasteur de Strasbourg, doctorat de 3e cycle, U.E.R. de Géographie, 1975); François Drouin, « Québec 1791-1821 : une place centrale? » (mé- moire de maîtrise en histoire, Université Laval, 1983). 6. Claude Galarneau, « La presse périodique au Québec de 1764 à 1859 », Mémoires de la Société royale du Canada 22, 4e série (1984) : 146-47. 7. Sur la distribution géographique des bureaux de poste au Canada-Uni, voir Peter G. Goheen, « Canadian Communications circa 1845 », Geographical Reviewll (1987) : 35-51, particulièrement p. 36. 8. William Meikle, The Canadian Newspaper Directory or Advertisers' Guide (Toronto : Blackburn City Steam Press, 1858), 57 (ICMH, n° 43442); T. F. Wood & Co, Canadian Newspaper Directory (Montréal, 1876), 42-49 pour la presse du Québec (ICMH, n° 26102); McKim, Canadian Newspaper Directory (Montréal : A. McKim, 1892). 9. Sur les instituts d'artisans, voir la contribution de Yvan Lamonde, Peter McNally et Andrea Rotundo sur la bibliothèque publique au Canada dans le volume 2 de Histoire du livre et de l'imprimé au Canada; John H. Wadland et Margaret Hobbs, « Le mot imprimé », Atlas historique du Canada, vol. 2 (Montréal : Presses de l'Université de Montréal, 1993), planche 51; [May, Samuel P.], Special Report of the Minister of Education on the Mechanics' Institutes (Ontario) (Toronto : C Blackett Robinson, 1881), Sessional Papers, vol. 13, partie 4, n° 46; Margaret Beckman, Stephen Langmead et John Black, The Best Gift. A Record of the Carnegie Libraries in Ontario (Toronto et Londres : Dundurn Press, 1984), 18, 19, 31, 159-61, 179-81. 10. Teresa Nickels-Prilesnik, « Tobias Schantz », Histoire du livre et de l'imprimé au Canada, vol. 2, à paraître. 11. Maurice Lemire, « L'hégémonie culturelle de la ville de Québec au dix- neuvième siècle », Mémoires de la Société royale du Canada 22, 4e série (1984) : 132; Claude Galarneau, « La presse périodique au Québec », 145-46. 12. Yvan Lamonde et Claude Beauchamp, Données statistiques sur l'histoire culturelle du Québec (1760-1900) (Chicoutimi : Institut interuniversitaire de recherche sur les populations, 1996), 7, tableau 1; Yvan Lamonde, « Une problématique de culture urbaine : Montréal (1820-1920) » (1983) et « La sociabilité et l'histoire socio-culturelle : le cas de Montréal, 1760-1880 » (1987), dans Territoires de la culture québécoise (Sainte-Foy : Les Presses de l'Université Laval, 1991), 49-70, 71-103. 13. Yvan Lamonde, « Les associations au Bas-Canada ; de nouveaux marchés aux idées (1840-1867) » (1975), dans Territoires de la culture québécoise, 105-16. 14. Yvan Lamonde, « Canadian Print and the Emergence of a Public Culture in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries », dans Damien-Claude Bélanger, Sophie Coupai et Michel Ducharme, dir., Les idées en mouvement : per- spectives en histoire intellectuelle et culturelle du Canada (Sainte-Foy : Les Presses de l'Université Laval, 2004), 175-90; pour une critique de la notion « d'espace public » appliquée au Nouveau Monde, Robert A. Gross, « Print and the Public Sphere in Early America », dans Melvyn Stokes, dir, The State of U.S. History, (Oxford, New York : Berg, 2002), 245-64. 15. Claude Galarneau, « La presse périodique au Québec », 150. 16. Voir la contribution de Yvan Lamonde et Andrea Rotundo sur la librairie au Canada avant 1840, dans Patricia Lockhart Fleming, Gilles Gallichan et Yvan Lamonde, Histoire du livre et de l'imprimé au Canada, vol. 1, à paraître. 17. Yvan Lamonde, données inédites, Histoire du livre et de l'imprimé au Canada, vol. 2, contribution de Lamonde, McNally et Rotundo. À paraître. 18. Voir la chronologie du système postal canadien à www.civilization.ca/cpm /chrono/chcmenf.html et Michel Lessard, « De l'utilité des catalogues com- merciaux en ethnohistoire du Québec », Cahiers des Dix 49 (1994) : 213-51. 19. Alan Metcalfe, « The Evolution of Organized Physical Recreation in Montreal, 1840-1895 », Histoire sociale/Social History 21 (1978) : 144-66; idem, « Le sport au Canada français au XIXe siècle : le cas de Montréal (1800-1914) », Loisir et société/Society and Leisure 6 (1983) : 105-20; Shirley B. Elliott, « A Library for the Garrison and the Town : a History of the Cambridge Military Library, Royal Military Park, Halifax, Nova Scotia », Épilogue 8 (1989) : 1-11. 50 Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXXIII, No. 1 (Fall 2004 automne) http://www.hbic.library.utoronto.ca http://www.civilization.ca/cpm 
work_lvn5nggm4jantiopluezjmkcly	----	The Future of Ethnicity, Race and Nationality The Future of Ethnicity, Race and Nationality Walter L. Wallace. 1997. Westport, CT: Praeger Publishers. 199pp. Walter Wallace, a distinguished Princeton sociologist, has written a new volume of tremendous significance, The Future of Ethnicity, Race and Nationality, which should open up debate in a critical, but neglected area. This treatise explores the question of whether the world's racial, ethnic and national diversity will blend into one undifferentiated whole. To be blunt, Wallace's opinion is that "global species consolidation" will take place. In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, key social theorists like Karl Marx, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Emile Durkheim and John Dewey delivered important disquisitions on this subject. By and large, they concluded that the territorial, genealogical and historical divisions of mankind were being effaced by modern processes of individualism and capitalism, leading, in the opinion of some, to new divisions based on class, occupation or status. Walter Wallace concurs with this assimilationist assessment, updating the paradigm of global assimilation with current empirical material from our era of accelerated globalization. Wallace's theoretical premise is vast, sweeping and parsimonious. He claims that there exists a Grand Cycle of human somatic and cultural evolution which began 100,000 years ago as human beings slowly began to migrate from their point of origin in east Africa. For approximately 90,000 years, humanity's wanderings led to genetic and cultural drift as new geographic environments, interacting with genetic mutation and natural selection, produced an increasingly differentiated Homo Sapiens. Origin myths (ie. ethnicity), territoriality and culture tended to follow the original racial differentiation. However, starting about 10,000 years ago, the differentiation process came to be replaced by a consolidation (or reconsolidation) process. Tribes began to meet each other, engage in conflict and consolidate into ethnic groups. Then, during the past five thousand years, ethnic groups began to aggregate into nations or empires. Finally, in the past century, we are beginning to see the rise of continental and global institutions which herald the dawn of an impending global species consolidation. (14-16) The grand theory of species consolidation, outlined above, appears in the first three chapters of the book and makes for excellent reading. Sadly, the author loses focus somewhat in chapters four and five, which appear to venture all over the map in an attempt to expound a comprehensive, neo-Parsonian theory of ethnic and race relations. However, in chapter six, Wallace returns to the theme of species consolidation with some bold predictions. Among these predictions: the world will adopt a universal language, likely based on (but not entirely composed of) English, while racial, ethnic and national diversity will disappear over the longue durée. (140) In his conclusion, the author reveals his cards, putting forth the prescriptive case for global species consolidation. Here, Wallace stresses that species consolidation, besides being inevitable, will endow humanity with a better chance at long-term survival. Nuclear and environmental disaster, bacteriological and cosmic apocalypse, global crime - all can be better contained if humanity comes to be consolidated under one racial, cultural and political roof. Many commentators will likely upbraid Wallace for the same reasons they might criticize Talcott Parsons. Namely, that the analysis presented is too sweeping, and the theoretical canvas too grand. I shall decline the opportunity to join this chorus. Instead, I applaud Wallace's boldness, breadth of vision and logical rigour - even as I disagree with his basic premise. Wallace correctly argues that only two paths are open to humanity with respect to race and ethnicity: consolidation or differentiation (i.e. multiculturalism). He is likewise correct to point out the parochialism of the current ethnic and race relations discourse. Too many observers take a position as multiculturalists or assimilationists with respect to one facet of ethnic or race relations and one particular society(s), yet fail to situate this belief within a coherent world-wide theory. Wallace's contention regarding the options open to humanity are sound, and his description of the racial/ethnic differentiation process rings true. However, things become a bit less clear when we examine the "consolidation" stage. First of all, it is striking that over the past three hundred years, which in many ways represent a major world-historical disjuncture, political consolidation has been proceeding in an inverse direction from that postulated in the book. That is, empires like the Ottoman or religious constellations like the Dar-ul-Islam have fallen apart while smaller nation-states have risen in their place. This process continues today - witness the dramatic expansion in the number of recognized nations in the past hundred years. This underscores a key flaw in Wallace's reasoning: he fails to see that politics and civic culture can be disassociated from ethnicity and race. Thus the United States, a pluralistic society, evinces a high degree of political nationalism, but shows low ethno-racial boundary maintenance. The reverse holds for Germany. Turning to processes of political globalization, these have recently made some headway against national sovereignty (as they have in the past), but I cannot see how one moves from this modest trans-nationalism to forecast a global polity. The European Union, for example, has lost much of its post-war idealism, and its propensity for institutional "deepening" appears to be slowing down. In other words, limited global institutions, yes, one world, no. Wallace's argument is weak in its treatment of the political unit known as the nation-state, but can it not be sustained with respect to race and ethnicity? Again, the picture is more complicated than Wallace allows. Ethnic groups have certainly fused (look at the Angles and Saxons or Trinidad's emerging Indian-African population), but most groups' myths of origin are often elastic enough to accommodate racial change. The Jews and American Indians are merely the most obvious examples of this phenomenon, maintaining (as Fredrik Barth might have noted) ethnic boundaries while absorbing new personnel. Even so, Wallace's argument for ethnic demise may ultimately prevail if racial differences are effaced and if this becomes a widely recognized fact. But is racial consolidation inevitable? I would have liked to have seen more discussion on this point. The finitude of the earth's carrying capacity and the inevitability of at least some inter-racial marriage seem to suggest that Wallace is right. On the other hand, ethnic cleansing/genocide, differential birthrates between cosmopolitan centres and homogeneous hinterlands, genetic manipulation and other differentiating scenarios must be satisfactorily ruled out before we can write the era of race out of the history books. In the end, therefore, Walter Wallace has made a powerful normative case for global species consolidation, and his fascinating theory of species consolidation should be required reading for all race and ethnicity scholars. Nevertheless, he has not convinced this reviewer that consolidation will trump global multiculturalism. 
work_lytuwsakvvbrto4qwvwxebuvpq	----	© Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 368 A Restorative Trail: Restorative Practice - opening up new capacities of hearts and minds in school communities Michelle Stowe Abstract The aim of the action project outlined in this article was to set up a Professional Learning Community (PLC) in a school with teachers who were interested in inculcating the practices and principles of Restorative Practice in their classrooms. My intention in forming such a PLC was to establish, explore, evaluate and maximise the use of Restorative Practice in participants’ classrooms. I wanted to investigate the impact of such engagement on relationships, teaching practices and approaches, and how it could offer a stimulus for whole school change. Our investigation found that the implementation of Restorative Practice did improve relationships. It promoted empathy and encouraged teachers and students to work together. It developed emotional literacy skills among the participants. Participants gained a sense of ownership over behaviour. There was a change in approach to misbehaviour that had a positive effect on learning and on teachers’ feeling of well-being. The evidence shows that improved relationships often had a positive impact on the work ethic within the classroom. Teachers enjoyed working as a solution focused community of teachers, it helped to re- invent and enhance their best practice through the sharing of ideas. The evidence also showed that the implementation and positive impact of Restorative Practice is a process. It is something that requires repeated, structured and reflective engagement, such as that offered by our PLC. Keywords Restorative practice, school communities Aim of this Paper This paper begins by offering an introduction and description of the Restorative Practice and a Professional Learning Community. It outlines the aim, focus and purpose of my research and signposts its place in my school and the community it serves. This paper also attempts to broaden an awareness of the implementation of Restorative Practice in schools, offering an insight into understanding the complexities of initiating the necessary paradigm shift needed to re-culture a school community. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 369 1. Introduction The intention of this action project was to set up a Professional Learning Community (PLC) in my school with teachers who were interested in inculcating the practices and principles of Restorative Practice in their classrooms. 1.1. Restorative Practice In broad terms Restorative Practice is a values based philosophy. There are a set of skills and practices that breathe life into this way of being which cultivates, what Belinda Hopkins describes as, a ‘restorative mind-set’ (Hopkins, 2006: 5). This paradigm shift informs how we think, engage, speak, listen, and approach situations, all day, every day. The intention is to develop a culture of care and respect which is applicable to the whole school community as Morrison’s (2005: 51) “Hierarchy of Restorative Responses” pyramid suggests. The proactive element of restorative practice is absolutely essential to build an environment that limits the potential for conflict and its successful resolution if it does occur. It is the carpet that offers foundation, pliability, and warmth to the other reactive strategies. Morrison (2007: 107) draws parallels to the health care ‘immunisation’ model, whereby the building of positive relationships inoculates communities against conflict. A Personal Perspective My personal definition and experience of Restorative Practice in schools is that it is a collaborative and proactive way of being that aims to build community and manage conflict by modelling positive behaviour. After all, “if we are not modelling what we teach, we are teaching something else” (Hopkins, 2006: 163). It encourages high expectations to be the excellent humans that we were all born to be and offers the support and care to meet these expectations as Vaandering’s (2010) Relationship Window illustrates. Restorative Practice, when dealing with wrongdoing, facilitates restorative conversations separate the deed from the doer and seeks to understand before being understood (Covey, 2004). It involves a benevolent paradigm shift from punitive to restorative, from blame to connection, from fear to love. “Love is not something that we give or get; it is something that we nurture and grow” (Brown, 2012: 105) and Restorative Practice nourishes such seeds. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 370 The restorative approach helps us to see in our young students what they may not yet see in themselves. It allows us to offer them a door way into their best selves, a lens from which to see who they really are. For the purpose of this study, and the restorative work I model and promote in my school, that is a worthy and capable student, a valued member of our school community. But for me, on a personal spiritual level, that is a lovely child of God; a beautiful being of light, whose essence is love. Just like Marianne Williamson’s (1992) poem ‘Our Greatest Fear’, (recited by Mandela at his inauguration) reminds us. Our Greatest Fear It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us. Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others. Restorative Practice is, for me, a ‘beauty-full’ way to revere, to call forth the very best of who we are, especially when life may have smudged our capacity to reflect it. It empowers people to consciously choose to behave and engage in a way that reflects their true being; so that they are inspired intrinsically by their inner guidance, as opposed to being controlled by the fear of an external punishment or the retribution of a punitive school system. It allows us to have the courage to be vulnerable, to be truly seen, to connect. It powers my purpose, offering me the potential to be the change I want to see –a world where we live with, from, of, for that our whole hearts because we know, we have remembered, that we are worthy of love and belonging (Brown, 2012). That we are, as Rumi the thirteenth century Sufi poet says, not only a drop in God’s ocean, but “God’s ocean in one drop.” © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 371 A Restorative Mind-Set The key to a restorative encounter seems to be what Hopkins (2006) termed “the restorative mind-set” (Hopkins, 2006: 5). This lens allows us to place the harm that has happened in sharp focus rather than merely looking at who is to blame. The intention is to empower those involved to repair the harm. This involves giving them ownership of the problem and its resolution. This contrasts with a more widespread, punitive mind-set of our school systems which often serves to isolate and lock out our students and teachers who are already struggling. It is my belief that, as human beings, we are all doing the best we can base on the way we see the world, our current level of consciousness (Tolle, 2005)’ - when we know better, we do better’. The use of sanctions and imposing punishment “TO” (Vanderring 2010) students dilutes the opportunity for teachers and students to know and do better. It robs us of the opportunity to grow and make repairs, to consider and express how we feel, and potentially discover a new way to deal with such conflicts in the future. When considering wrongdoing, Restorative Practice looks through a benevolent lens that transcends blame and instead seeks empathy, connection and solutions. Shame researcher and thought leader Brené Brown (2012) defines blame as the discharge of pain and anger. Her research states that there is, in fact, an inverse relationship between blame and accountability; that blame inhibits connection and blocks our potential to empathise and actuate solutions. Restorative Practice expands its address to crime from merely apportioning blame for the breaking of rules, to a more holistic view; considering wrongdoing as a demonstration of disconnect, to the self and others – a violation against people and relationships (Zehr, 1990). I am inspired by the traditional indigenous ways such as those of the Babemba Tribe of South Africa who live their restorative values in community, even when, perhaps especially when, someone has caused harm. They gather around them in a circle and remind them of something good they have done; a genuine reason why they like, love or value them, reminding them of their worthiness. They understand that the correction for poor behaviour is not punishment, but love and the remembrance of identity. They believe a teacher is someone who knows their song and sings it to them when they have forgotten it (Boullion, 2009). Restorative Practice allows us to define justice as getting ‘well’ instead of getting ‘even’. As Nelsen et. al (2000) asks, wherever did we get the idea that to make people do better we first have to make them feel worse? As role models, teachers can demonstrate kindness, compassion, and respect, perhaps especially in times of conflict and challenge. We need to illustrate and teach by example, introduce a new epistemology “a way of being in the world long after the facts have faded from (students’) minds” (Palmer,1993, p. 30). As Ginott (1972, p. 5) suggests “(teachers) possess tremendous power to make life miserable or joyous. (We) can be a tool of torture or an instrument of inspiration; (we) can humiliate or humour, hurt or heal. In all situations, it is (our) response that decides whether a crisis is escalated or de- escalated, and a person is humanized or de-humanized”. A restorative mind-set maximises the potential for us to be conscious of this. I wanted my research to extend Rumi’s kind invitation “out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 372 right doing there is a field. I’ll meet you there”. To live in community in such a field, where we bring out the best in ourselves and in one another is an intention that inspires me. It is a path I wish to travel and hoped my research would leave a trail towards. 1.2 Professional Learning Community (PLC) A Professional Learning Community (PLC) is a group of people who meet in an organised, structured space that is agenda and solution focused. It promotes supportive relationships, develops shared norms and values, and focuses on the acquisition of knowledge and skills. Teachers collaborate to reinvent practice and share professional growth “sharing and critically interrogating their practice in an on-going, reflective, collaborative, inclusive, learning orientated, growth- promoting way” (Stoll et al., 2006:.223). The hypothesis is that what “teachers do outside of the classroom can be as important as what they do inside the classroom in affecting school restructuring, teachers’ professional development, and student learning” (Seashore et al., 2003: 3). I wanted my action research to incite such a re-culturing and the deep learning that Fullan (2006) proposes they represent; a restorative paradigm shift. Sparks (2002) emphasises that successful learning communities “have at their base high quality relationships, collegiality, reflection, risk taking and collaborative problem solving”, all of which would enhance our ability to bring about such a paradigm shift. A Personal Perspective - Community When I think reflectively about what I mean by community, I realise that it is inspired by my spiritual beliefs and value system. Being part of creating community speaks to my own inner truth about who I want to be, as not only a teacher, but as a human being in this world. Similarly, my desire to promote Restorative Practice is, somewhat, connected to my perception of my life’s purpose, my personal ideals regarding all of our purpose in this world – to see ourselves in one another (Tolle, 2005). My definition of community, for the purpose of this study, is a group of people who meet in an organised, structured space that is agenda and solution focused – a Professional Learning Community (PLC). But community, on a personal, spiritual level, is a group of individuals who are connected, who share who they are, who see themselves in the other; a group who seeks to serve one another, to promote reflections that offer truthful ways of seeing and being in the world; that offer community. Restorative practices can, in my view, offer the opportunity to achieve this - to understand, to empathise; to become more conscious, connected, and aware. To help us “remember who we are” (Walsch, 1997, p. 21). It also offers the chance to engage and seek our own truth, sometimes, through knowing that of others. Palmer alludes to a need to create such community in education, “a connectedness that honours a spiritual understanding of the hidden wholeness” (Palmer, 1993, xii). I concur. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 373 2. Rationale My interest in Restorative Practice is driven by its transformative potential; its ability to create caring, respectful communities that I wish to be a part of. My personal vision of an ideal school community is one dedicated to honouring and evolving the relationship between schooling, well-being and happiness (O’Brien, 2008). In my view this can be synthesised through positive relationships, those that Restorative Practice aims to promote. I am inspired by the potential synergy between these and I felt that working in community with fellow teachers in a PLC could help to achieve it. 2.1 My School Community My school was a fertile ground for such restorative seeds to grow in, it has a very strong policy of inclusion and there is a robust pastoral tradition. However, I felt that punitive discipline structures can negate the restorative values enshrined in our school’s mission statement. This system may compromise our ability to foster and nurture positive relationships, the scaffolding upon which learning and well- being is built (Brooks, 1991). The implementation of Restorative Practice would reflect our school ethos; it could potentially improve attendance and learning; Restorative Practice may develop the life-long emotional literacy skills that are essential for well-being (O’Brien, 2008). This is especially necessary in a school situated in an area of disadvantage where the development of such communication skills may have been hindered due to the problems inherent in such an area. 2.2 Implementation Focus Our school was introduced to Restorative Practice in 2010. Two years later, Restorative Practice was only happening in pockets throughout the school despite the positive feedback from the introduction day and efforts made by myself and fellow champions to increase its profile. We had mainly focused on training senior students in conflict resolution. My reconnaissance showed that a new found focus on teachers was necessary to facilitate the initiation and implementation of Restorative Practice in our school. 3. My Research 3.1 Aim of my Research The aim of my research was to investigate how Restorative Practice impacted on teacher-student relationships with their chosen challenging class, Class X; and to explore how working as a solution- focused community of teachers would influence our teaching practices. I would be a facilitator and an active member of this reflective community. I wanted to investigate if there was a significant improvement in class relationships. I felt that if this occurred it would help teachers and our school community to validate the positive impact that Restorative Practice could have. This could foster a commitment to create the Restorative School that I wanted to be a member of. I wanted my action to create a heart-felt and informed choice to commit to a whole school restorative culture; to begin the transition necessary for a restorative paradigm shift. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 374 3.2 Research Questions My intention in forming such a PLC was to establish, explore, evaluate and extend the use of Restorative Practice in our classrooms. I wanted to investigate the following: To what extent does such engagement impact on teachers’ relationship with their students? 1. To what extent have teacher-student relationships improved as a result of initiating Restorative Practice? 2. To what extent does continual and purposeful collaboration with the principles and practices of Restorative Practice impact on the individual teachers’ approach to teaching? 3. To what extent can the work of this small group of teachers provide a stimulus for wider school change towards the principles and practices of Restorative Practice? 3.3 Methodology My action research strategy involved twelve actions, many of which evolved iteratively over two cycles over six months. My investigation, in the broadest sense, is interpretive. I am interested in the thought, experiences and feelings of the participants in the study as they implement and consider how Restorative Practice has affected their classroom teaching and relationships. Seeking to gain insight into educationalists’ own experience also roots my research in a constructivist approach, emphasising the importance of working towards a shared construction (a restorative school) which can provide the basis for action in the future (implementation/institutionalisation plan) while co- constructing meaning through experiences, anecdotes and dialogue (assisting a restorative paradigm shift). The research methods of journals, focus groups and restorative circles (semi-structured group interviews) served this qualitative research approach. Weekly circles would not only provide information but promote community in our PLC and model the practices that I hoped participants would use in their classrooms. Journals promoted the necessary reflexivity to assist a paradigm shift and the focus groups allowed for the probing and teasing out of research questions. 3.4 Findings As I do not have enough time to outline all the findings of my research here, I have chosen to illustrate the content of the qualitative data through a series of quotes from the eight teachers (T1 to T8) that snapshot a brief insight into my research questions: © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 375 1. To what extent does such engagement impact teachers’ relationship with their students? © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 376 2. To what extent have teacher-student relationships improved as a result of initiating Restorative Practice? (*ELS = Emotional Literacy Skills) © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 377 3. To what extent does continual and purposeful collaboration with the principles and practices of Restorative Practice impact on the individual teachers’ approach to teaching? © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 378 4. To what extent can the work of this small group of teachers provide a stimulus for wider school change towards the principles and practices of Restorative Practice? In summary, our investigation found that the inculcation of Restorative Practice did improve relationships. It promoted empathy and developed emotional literacy skills among the participants. Weekly journaling, circles and the use of Restorative Practice in the classroom increased reflection. This, in turn, offered participants a sense of ownership over behaviour. There was a change in approach to misbehaviour that had a positive effect on teachers’ mental health and feeling of well-being. The evidence shows that improved relationships often had a positive impact on work ethic within the classroom. Teachers enjoyed working as a solution focused community, it helped to re-invent and enhance their best practice through the sharing of ideas. The evidence also showed that the implementation and positive impact of Restorative Practice is process. It is something that requires repeated, structured and reflective engagement, such as that offered by our PLC. Our PLC could and has had an impact on whole school change which also involves a restorative paradigm shift. This would be a long-term goal, one that the participants of my study and I are committed to. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 379 4.Conclusion My engagement with Restorative Practice has been an insightful journey that I am still voyaging. For me, it is a way of being in the world, “a compass- not a map… a journey more than a destination.” (Zehr, H., 2002: 10). The endeavour of action research has given me a direction with which to utilise this compass in order to find a way that, not only speaks to my core beliefs as a teacher, but echoes my values as a human being. The opportunity presented to me through this action research has involved me in a community of individuals from whom I have learned much. I feel that it has been a wonderful opportunity for growth and reflection for us all, one that we have committed to evolve and nurture in the future. I am thankful for, not only what we have achieved, but for the potential of its future. The vision I had in my heart about establishing a community that would make my school a happier place has remained the same throughout my investigation. The ‘how’ of such an achievement has evolved from a passive knowledge of Restorative Practice that promotes positive relationships to an active awareness of human behaviour that breathes empathy and a benevolent mind-set. The hope that we continue to get to know our true selves and see this in one another inspires me. …. Don’t go where the path may lead Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail What lies before you and what lies behind you? Are small matters compared to what lies within? And when you bring what is within, out into the world Miracles happen…. (Ralph Waldo Emerson) Working in community in our PLC allowed us to voyage an unfamiliar path and leave a trail - opening up new capacities of hearts and minds. These are the miracles I’m grateful for. © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 380 References Boullion, J., (2009) Leadership and Love in Action http://leadingethically.blogspot.ie/2009/09/leadership-and-love-in-action.html(. acccessed 27 th September 2016) Brooks, R. (1991) The Self Esteem Teacher. Loveland, OH: Treehaus Communication Brown, B. (2012). Daring Greatly, How the courage to Be Vulnerable Transform the Way We Live, Love, Parent and Lead. Great Britain by Clays Ltd Covey, S., (2004) The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Great Britain. Simon & Schuster UK Ltd Fullan, M. (2006a) Leading Professional Learning, The School Administrator Nov 2006 http://www.michaelfullan.com/Articles_06/Articles_06b.pdf (acccessed online January 2012) Fullan, M. (2006b) The Future of Educational Change: System Thinkers in Action. Journal of Educational Change 7(3), 113–122 Ginott, H. G. (1972) Teacher and child: A book for parents and teachers. New York: Macmillan Golding, D. (1995) Emotional intelligence. New York: Bantam Hopkins, B. (2004) Just Schools. London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers Hopkins, B. (2006) Implementing a restorative approach to behaviour and relationship management in schools – the narrated experiences of educationalists Morrison (2005) Restorative justice in schools. In E. Elliott & R. M. Gordon (Eds.), New Directions in Restorative Justice (pp. 26–52). Cullompton, Devon: Willan Publishing Nelsen J., Lott L., & Glenn S., (2000) Building Classroom Discipline: Positive Discipline in the Classroom. San Diego State University. Boston O’Brien, M. (2008) Well-being and post-primary schooling NCCA: Dublin Palmer, J. P. (1993) To Know As We Are Known – Education as a Spiritual Journey. New York. HarperCollins Palmer, J. P. (2000) Let Your life Speak. San Francisco. Jossey-Bass. Palmer, J. P. (2007) The Courage to Teach Guide for Reflection and Renewal.San Francisco,Wiley Seashore, K.R., Anderson, A.R. & Riedel, E. (2003). Implementing arts for academic achievement: The impact of mental models, professional community and interdisciplinary teaming. Paper presented at the Seventeenth Conference of the International Congress for School Effectiveness and Improvement, Rotterdam, January 2003 Sparks, D (2002) Designing Powerful professional Development for Teachers and Principals National Staff Development Council, USA Stoll, L., Bolam, R., McMahon, A., Wallace, M., & Thomas, S. (2006) Professional Learning Communities: A Review of the Literature. Journal of Educational Change. 10 (7), 221-258 Tolle, E. (2005) A New Earth. England. Clays Ltd Vaandering, D. (2010) A Window on Relationships : Enlarging the Social Discipline Window for a Broader Perspective. Presented at 13th World Conference of the International Institute for Restorative http://leadingethically.blogspot.ie/2009/09/leadership-and-love-in-action.html http://www.michaelfullan.com/Articles_06/Articles_06b.pdf © Journal of Mediation and Applied Conflict Analysis, 2016, Vol. 3, No. 1 http://jmaca.maynoothuniversity.ie Page | 381 Practices Walsch, D. N. (1997) Conversations with God. Great Britain. Hodder and Stoughton Williamson, M. (1992) A Return to Love. New York. HarperCollins Publishers Zehr, H. (1990) Changing Lenses. Scottdale, PA: Herald Press Michelle Stowe is a teacher, restorative practice practitioner, trainer & consultant interested in promoting positive relationships, happiness & well-being in the workplace. She has been an active champion of Restorative Practice in her post primary school since becoming an accredited trainer in 2010. She completed her Master’s in Education in 2012 and her action research project involved creating a Professional Learning Community to lead the implementation of Restorative Practice in her school community. She is passionate about cultivating a restorative paradigm shift and re-culturing school communities – opening up new capacities of hearts and minds. She is currently on career break from St. mark’s Community School, working part-time in the Education Department of Maynooth University, lecturing and supporting the Post Masters in Education students; and as a restorative trainer/consultant, while writing her book on the implementation of Restorative Practices in schools. Restorative Practice allows her to be the change she wants to see in the world, one where we live in community and see ourselves in one another. 
work_lzudd475cbcrzghbe7z6ucurka	----	Environment and Ecology Research 4(3): 155-160, 2016 http://www.hrpub.org DOI: 10.13189/eer.2016.040307 Theorizing Ecclesial Ecocriticism: Pathetic Fallacy in Ecclesiastical Literature on Climate Change André Kaboré Department of Anglophone Studies, University of Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso Copyright©2016 by authors, all rights reserved. Authors agree that this article remains permanently open access under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License 4.0 International License Abstract The objective of this paper is to show the Catholic Church’s concern with ecology in its literature, its use of literary devices to enhance an effective response to the call for nature’s protection and to show to what extent one can hypothesize ecclesial ecocriticism as a theory different from its literary counterparts. The methodology that will be used is that of ecocriticism or green study; this paper is a stylistic investigation of the Catholic Church’s discourse on climate change, namely Pope Benedict’s encyclical letter Caritas in Veritate on Integral Human Development in Charity and in Truth (2009), and Pope Francis’s encyclical letter Laudato Si on Care of our Common Home (2015). Reading these works, one becomes aware that Catholic Church leaders are engaged in a particular type of ecocriticism. How is this different from literary ecocriticism? And for what purpose do church leaders use literary figures in their discourse? These are the questions around which the discussion will be held. The paper will argue that there is an ecclesial ecocriticism endowed with its special characteristics. Our hypothesis is that the use of personification and pathetic fallacy in the two popes’ works on nature leads to two types of pathetic fallacies, namely, humanization of nature and naturalization of the human being, thus strengthening this conception of nature as God’s creation and gift to humanity, and thus efficiently pleading the latter for nature’s protection. Keywords Nature, Climate, Change, Morality, Ecocriticism, Catholic Church, Theory 1. Introduction Concern for the environment or nature is increasingly the preoccupation of governments, politicians, scientists, writers, critics, and religious leaders. Newspapers headlines of the last two centuries are recurrent about “Oil spills, lead and asbestos poisoning, toxic waste contamination, extinction of species at an unprecedented rate, battles over public land use, protests over nuclear waste dumps, a growing hole in the ozone layer, predictions of global warming, acid rain, loss of topsoil, destruction of the tropical rain forest, controversy over the Spotted Owl in the Pacific Northwest, a wildfire in Yellowstone Park, medical syringes washing onto the shores of Atlantic beaches, boycotts on tuna, overtapped aquifers in the West, illegal dumping in the East, a nuclear reactor disaster in Chernobyl, new auto emissions standards, famines, droughts, floods, hurricanes, a United Nations special conference on environment and development, a U.S. President declaring the 1990s ‘the decade of the environment,’ and a world population that topped five billion” [1, p16]. This grim picture is timelessly relevant. Generations change but the pollution of nature remains identical or worsen. The solution to “the immediate problems of pollution, environmental decay and the depletion of natural resources,” Pope Francis[2] says in Laudato Si (2015), a document on care for nature, demands a collaboration of many sciences and strategies, including “a distinctive way of looking at things, a way of thinking, policies, an educational program, a lifestyle and a spirituality which together generate resistance to the assault of the technocratic paradigm” [2, #111]. He is convinced that “to seek only a technical remedy to each environmental problem which comes up is to separate what is in reality interconnected and to mask the true and deepest problems of the global system” [2, #111]. His predecessor, Pope Benedict XVI, known as the ‘Green Pope,’ devoted a chapter on questions related to the environment in his Caritas in Veritate (2009). Prior to him, Pope John Paul II dealt with ecology in his encyclical letters Laborem Exercens (1981), Sollicitudo Rei Socialis (1987), Centesimus Annus (1991). In recent years, many Catholic bishops and Episcopal conferences [see 12] have issued ecological exhortations, excerpts of which appear in Laudato Si. Rarely do ecocritics consider such works, simply because of their religious context. It is against this hostile background that Pope Francis says that it is not “reasonable and enlightened to dismiss certain writings simply because they arose in the context of religious belief” [2, #199]. But with which critical tools can we assess these particular works as the tools of literary ecocriticism seem inadequate? This 156 Theorizing Ecclesial Ecocriticism: Pathetic Fallacy in Ecclesiastical Literature on Climate Change explains the necessity of theorizing ecclesial theory of ecocriticism. It may help us get a deeper understanding of religious classics or literary texts written by religious people than general theory of ecocriticism do. On the other hand, it might also be useful when reading non-religious texts, as it valorizes ecological aspects in a way that secular ecocriticism doesn’t. In all of these ecologically-minded religious works, literary devices, especially personification and pathetic fallacy, that is, “the attribution of human emotions to works of nature” [3, p297], play important roles. Using the theory of ecocriticism or green studies, which “is the study of the relationship between literature and the physical environment” [3, p18], this paper is an attempt at addressing these concerns, namely the inadequacy of secular ecocriticism and religious texts. Ecocriticism “seeks to warn us of environmental threats emanating from governmental, industrial, commercial, and neo-colonial forces” [4, p4580]. Examining the pathetic fallacy has been a long-standing element of ecocriticism; indeed John Ruskin, who coined the term ‘pathetic fallacy,’ was, in Barry[4]’s words, “deeply eco-conscious, the first major British writer to record a sense that nature’s powers of recovery might not be infinite, and that modern form of production and consumption have the potential to inflict fatal environmental damage” [p4667]. This secular ecocriticism and the discussion on the pathetic fallacy will help us not only define the contours and particularities of ecclesial ecocriticism applicable to Catholic writings but also show that the use of literary devices, especially that of pathetic fallacy, is the expression of the extension of the self into the surrounding nature. 2. Methodology The discussion proceeds by textual analysis of ecclesial literature on climate change, informed by the literary theory of ecocriticism, in a comparative perspective. Such comparative analysis expands the theory of ecocriticism used for literary texts and argues for a new theory, ecclesial ecocriticism, that would be much more suitable for nonliterary texts, namely religious ones. The ecclesial literature under consideration is namely Pope Benedict’s encyclical letter Caritas in Veritate on Integral Human Development in Charity and in Truth (2009), and Pope Francis’s encyclical letter Laudato Si on Care of our Common Home (2015). 3. Results General literary ecocriticism is concerned with literary writings. As literature traces its roots to the hermeneutics of religion [6, p78], there is, not only a place, but a necessity, for the theory of ecclesial literary ecocriticism applicable to religion-related literature. The characteristic features of this new theory, upon examination and stylistic analysis of ecclesial literature on climate change, are the restoration of human nature within the other natures, the interdependence of natures, the attribution of the authorship of natures to God, and drawing an intrinsic relationship between nature’s protection and one’s belief in its origin. This theory of ecclesial ecocriticism then gives rise to two types of pathetic fallacies: one consisting in ascribing human traits to inanimate nature, and the other in the attribution of nature’s potentials to human beings. 4. Discussion 4.1. The Particularities of Ecclesial Ecocriticism as Theory The American term ‘Ecocriticism’, or the British equivalent ‘green studies’, is a relatively new theory in literary criticism. It started in the USA in the late 1980s, and in the UK in the early 1990s. Lawrence Buell, Ursula K. Heise, and Karen Thornber write, “Ecocriticism started as an organized movement within literature studies in the early 1990s, a scholarly generation later than the first such movements within the environmental humanities (in history, ethics, and theology). Ecocriticism as a Library of Congress subject heading dates from 2002” [5, p433]. Yet, the ideas behind ecocriticism had been in circulation for much longer; three major nineteenth-century American writers-Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), Margaret Fuller (1810-1850), and Henry D. Thoreau (1817-1862)-could be seen as the founders of ecocriticism [4, p4542]. Ecclesial ecocriticism has been mainly developed by the last three popes (John Paul II, Benedict, and Francis), whose encyclical letters and exhortations, some of which are under consideration in this paper, are ecologically focused. These popes’ writings are essentially essays in literary terms, and as such, may help us theorize an ecclesial ecocriticism as a method for analyzing Christian writings, because even though religion alongside other disciplines in the humanities has been ‘greening’ since the 1970s [1, p16], no formal ecologically-informed criticism has been developed as ecclesial ecocriticism, with its own principles and criteria. Ecocriticism, as opposed to structuralist, post-structuralist, and historicist theories that usually perceives the external world as linguistically and socially constructed, calls this traditionally-established perception into question. Defining ecocriticism as a literary theory, the critic Peter Barry[4] asserts that ecocriticism “repudiates the fundamental belief in ‘constructedness’ which is such an important aspect of literary theory” [p4600] in general. He explains that, “for the ecocritic, nature really exists, out there beyond ourselves, not needing to be ironized as a concept by enclosure within knowing inverted commas, but actually present as an entity which affects us, and which we can affect, perhaps fatally, if we mistreat it. Nature, then, Environment and Ecology Research 4(3): 155-160, 2016 157 isn’t reducible to a concept which we conceive as part of our cultural practice (as we might conceive a deity, for instance, and project it out onto the universe).” [4, p4590] For example, social inequality can be ‘naturalized’, that is, disguised as natural or given. The ecocritic should not consider this kind of nature. Sharing “the fundamental premise that human culture is connected to the physical world, affecting it and affected by it” [1, p19], one of the tasks of the ecocritic would be to demask such false natures and reveal the true one that is hidden under any culturally constructed nature. Hence, William Howarth defines the ecocritic from its Greek etymology (oikos=house and kritis=judge) as “a person who judges the merits and faults of writings that depict the effects of culture upon nature, with a view toward celebrating nature, berating its despoilers, and reversing their harm through political action” [6, p69]. The particularity of the Catholic Church’s social teaching is that nature is not only “the setting for our life” (Benedict 48) but it includes human nature. While “Ecocriticism expands the notion of "the world" [from being synonymous with society] to include the entire ecosphere” [1, p19], the Church leaders expand nature to include human nature. Rather than considering the human being as separate from the world, the resources of which this latter uses, the Church deals with the individual as a component of it, that is, the individual in the environment. In nature we find human nature and many other natures that are different from each other. Pope Francis[2] lays a strong emphasis on the fact that “human beings too are creatures of this world” [#43] and that “nature cannot be regarded as something separate from ourselves or as a mere setting in which we live. We are part of nature, included in it and thus in constant interaction with it” [2, p139]. So, inclusion of human nature in nature can be considered as fundamental in ecclesial ecocriticism. This theory shows how the human might be seen as part of nature, without simply giving the human primacy. The critic Evernden was critical of general ecocriticism for separating the human being from the environment. He says that “rather than thinking of an individual spaceman who must slurp up chunks of the world-‘resources’-into his separate compartment, we must deal instead with the individual-in-environment, the individual as a component of, not something distinct from, the rest of the environment” [8, p18]. He further explains that it is only in the inclusion of human nature within the environment that one can account for literary metaphors and other literary devices such as personification and pathetic fallacy: “Once we engage in the extension of the boundary of the self into the ‘environment’ then of course we imbue it with life and can properly regard it as animate-it is animate because we are part of it. And following from this, all the metaphorical properties so favored by poets make perfect sense: the Pathetic Fallacy is a fallacy only to the ego clencher. Metaphoric language is an ‘indicator’ of ‘place’-an indicator that the speaker has a place, feels part of a place.” [8, p18]. The pathetic fallacy only seems wrong to those who want to see the ego, the individual, as completely autonomous and separate from the outside world. The Church leaders, in their writings, advocate a natural place of human nature within the environment, not a metaphorical one. The Church’s teaching presents the human being as naturally part of nature. As an element among many others in the environment, and considering the interaction between natures, Pope Benedict XVI[7] could say that “the way humanity treats [other natures in] the environment influences the way it treats itself, and vice versa” [#51]. The protection of the environment and that of human life cannot be separated. Nature is cared for when man takes care of himself responsibly. The second particularity of ecclesial ecocriticism is that of the interdependence of natures within the environment. Pope Francis[2] underlines many times in Laudato Si his conviction that “everything is interconnected” or interrelated [#16, 42, 70, 91, 117, 138, 240], and that “we are not disconnected from the rest of creatures, but joined in a splendid universal communion” [#220]. The Pope makes explicit here what was already said in the Catechism of the Catholic Church: “God wills the interdependence of creatures. The sun and the moon, the cedar and the little flower, the eagle and the sparrow: the spectacle of their countless diversities and inequalities tells us that no creature is self-sufficient. Creatures exist only in dependence on each other, to complete each other, in the service of each other” [2, #340]. Any human being lives in interaction with what Heidegger calls “the fourfold,” that is, fellow mortals, the earth, the sky, and the divinities. Kate Rigby[9] explains that Heidegger’s “fourfold comprises earth, understood as the land itself with its particular topography, waterways, and biotic community; sky, including the alternation of night and day, the rhythm of the seasons, and the vagaries of the weather; divinities, those emissaries or traces that yet remain of an absent God; and, last but not least, mortals, fellow humans” [p430]. Human life is interwoven with the earth, the sky, God, and other fellow humans. This interdependence of natures, according to the Creator’s will, is one of the key components of ecclesial ecocriticism. Interconnectivity within nature necessarily entails the presence of many different natures. Ecology applies then to the nature of any creature; hence, the ecology of the environment, of animals, of man and woman, and so on and so forth. It is in this perspective that Pope Benedict[7] speaks of an “ecology of man”, grounded on the fact that “man too has a nature that he must respect and that he cannot manipulate at will” [#155]). A third constitutive element of ecclesial ecocriticism is the attribution of a common author, namely God, to all natures. It follows that if all natures have a common genitor, they are all related to each other. We can speak of ‘universal fraternity’ in this sense. This calls for fraternal love between all creatures. Observing that “fraternal love can only be gratuitous,” Pope Francis[7] says that “this same gratuitousness inspires us to love and accept the wind, 158 Theorizing Ecclesial Ecocriticism: Pathetic Fallacy in Ecclesiastical Literature on Climate Change the sun and the clouds, even though we cannot control them” [#228]. Consequently, the idea of a common creator leads to a sense of interconnection that is outside of hierarchy or traditional power schema. A fourth and final feature of ecclesial theory of ecocriticism is linked to the theories around the origin of nature in general. In Caritas in Veritate, Pope Benedict XVI[7] makes the point that harm is done to nature as a result of the different conceptions people have about its origin. He includes the human being within nature, saying, “when nature, including the human being, is viewed as the result of mere chance or evolutionary determinism, our sense of responsibility wanes” [#48]. He establishes a relationship between belief in the origin of nature and one’s protection of it. One’s conception of the origin of nature determines one’s handling of it. If one believes that nature is the result of evolution beginning with a big bang, one believes that whatever damage one inflicts will but contribute to the world’s continuous evolution, whether it is positive or negative. If nature came to exist by chance, it may disappear by chance. Such conceptions lead to nature’s destruction without somebody to blame. Pope Benedict XVI is convinced that the root of nature’s destruction lies in the lack of faith in God, as the author of creation lies, in “the notion that there are no indisputable truths to guide our lives, and hence human freedom is limitless. We have forgotten that man is not only a freedom which he creates for himself. Man does not create himself” [2, #6]. The antidote to this destructive vision of an anthropocentric world is one, Benedict argues, in which faith is embraced and the interconnectedness of humans and the non-human world is revealed. At an audience Pope Benedict XVI gave to Priests of Brixen, Karl Golser, a professor of moral theology in Brixen, and also director of the institute for justice, peace, and the safeguarding of creation, asked the Pope the following ecology-related questions: “What can we do to bring a greater sense of responsibility toward creation into the life of the Christian communities? How can we arrive at seeing creation and redemption increasingly as a whole?” In his answer, the Pope explicitly and clearly asserted that “The brutal consumption of Creation begins where God is not, where matter is henceforth only material for us, where we ourselves are the ultimate demand, where the whole is merely our property and we consume it for ourselves alone … I think, therefore, that true and effective initiatives to prevent the waste and destruction of Creation can be implemented and developed, understood and lived, only where Creation is considered as beginning with God” [10, emphasis mine]. Protection of the environment is thus conditioned by one’s belief in who or that which is at the beginning of creation. The misuse of creation begins when human beings no longer recognize any higher instance than themselves alone, and thus using everything simply as their property. Ecclesial ecocriticism is founded on a communal father or creator of all natures. Ecclesial ecocritics believe that “the world came about as the result of a decision, not from chaos or chance, and this exalts it all the more.” [2, #77]. They believe in the environment or nature as God's gift. Pope Benedict XVI says that “in nature, the believer recognizes the wonderful result of God's creative activity, which we may use responsibly to satisfy our legitimate needs, material or otherwise, while respecting the intrinsic balance of creation. If this vision is lost, we end up either considering nature an untouchable taboo or, on the contrary, abusing it.” [7, #48]. The way one thinks or believes dictates one’s behavior. If nature comes from God and is given to humanity, then in the way we use it we have a responsibility towards future generations and towards God. Expatiating on this responsibility, the Pope[7] writes: “Human beings legitimately exercise a responsible stewardship over nature, in order to protect it, to enjoy its fruits and to cultivate it in new ways, with the assistance of advanced technologies, so that it can worthily accommodate and feed the world's population. (…) We must recognize our grave duty to hand the earth on to future generations in such a condition that they too can worthily inhabit it and continue to cultivate it. This means being committed to making joint decisions ‘after pondering responsibly the road to be taken, decisions aimed at strengthening that covenant between human beings and the environment, which should mirror the creative love of God, from whom we come and towards whom we are journeying’(120)” [7, #50, italics are the author’s]. Faith in God as the Creator of nature is then the fourth characteristic to be taken into account in ecclesial ecocriticism. Nature, as pointed out earlier, is God's gift to his children. The entire human family must handle it with care and responsibility, finding, through hard work and creativity, the resources to live with dignity, through the help of nature itself. This aspect is so important that, even though Pope Francis[2] is “well aware that in the areas of politics and philosophy there are those who firmly reject the idea of a Creator, or consider it irrelevant, and consequently dismiss as irrational the rich contribution which religions can make towards an integral ecology” [#62], addressing his document not only to members of the Church but “to all people” [#3], he deems it necessary to “include a chapter dealing with the convictions of believers” [#62]. Further observing that “the majority of people living on our planet profess to be believers” Pope Francis[2] says that “this should spur religions to dialogue among themselves for the sake of protecting nature” [#201]. It is also to this effect that literary devices such as pathetic fallacies are used. 4.2. Pathetic Fallacy One of the above-mentioned characteristics of the theory of ecclesial ecocriticism indicates that it includes human nature within nature in its analysis. The extension of humanity into the ‘environment’ makes possible an interaction whereby human features are attributed to nature Environment and Ecology Research 4(3): 155-160, 2016 159 and natural realities to human beings. Metaphoric language such as pathetic fallacy and personification then indicate that human beings have a place in the universe. Indeed, the “motive for metaphor may be as Frye claims, ‘a desire to associate, and finally to identify, the human mind with what goes on outside of it’ ” [8, p19]. There are two types of pathetic fallacies: one consists in the “ascription of human traits to inanimate nature” [11, p122] or any nature in the environment; the other in the attribution of nature’s potentials to human beings. In other words, it is a matter of humanization of nature, on the one hand, and of the naturalization of human beings on the other hand. General literary theory of ecocriticism usually minds the first while that of ecclesial ecocriticism takes both into account. As a follow-up, this excerpt from ecclesial literature on climate change displays a mind-arresting pathetic fallacy of the first category whereby Pope Benedict[7] attributes some human qualities to nature: “Nature expresses a design of love and truth. It is prior to us, and it has been given to us by God as the setting for our life. Nature speaks to us of the Creator. […] It is a wondrous work of the Creator containing a ‘grammar’ which sets forth ends and criteria for its wise use, not its reckless exploitation” [#48]. Nature is endowed with human senses: it speaks, loves, has a grammar, and a lot of other things, similar to human beings. It is not just matter for us to shape at will. It has a dignity of its own, which we must respect and submit to its directives. Its language should be listened to and obeyed. In Laudato Si, Pope Francis[2] is more pathetic when he says that “the violence present in our hearts, wounded by sin, is also reflected in the symptoms of sickness evident in the soil, in the water, in the air and in all forms of life.” [#2] All elements in the environment are in direct correlation and interaction with one another to the extent that one of them, namely human nature, causes the others to suffer. The earth is ailing as any human being. She is referred to as a mother, “groaning in travail” [Rom 8:22]. Owing to this attribution of a common father to all natures and the belief in creation in the explanation of the origin of the world, all other elements in mother earth become human beings’ brothers and sisters. Thus, we have “brother sun, sister moon, brother river” [2, #92]. This fraternity is so strong that morality comes into account in human beings’ relationships or interactions with natures in the environment. For instance, Pope Francis[2] says that, “for human beings to contaminate the earth’s waters, its land, its air, and its life – these are sins” [#8]. The Pope sees climate change as a moral issue of burning importance that puts creation into danger and places more burdens on poor people, and thus compromises the common good of all. He invites human beings, within the scope of universal brotherhood, to “feel the desertification of the soil almost as a physical ailment, and the extinction of a species as a painful disfigurement” [2, #89]. If the suffering of other elements in nature is reflected in human nature’s feelings, then the interconnection between natures in the environment (second characteristic of ecclesial ecocriticism) is reciprocal. A misbehavior of one affects all others dangerously. On the other hand, when all behave, all live in perfect harmony together. Pathetic fallacy of the second category, namely the naturalization of human beings (which is the first characteristic of ecclesial ecocriticism) appears in ecclesial literature on climate change. In Laudato Si, for example, Pope Francis[2] brings the naturalization of human nature into prominent salience when he urges us recognize that “the way natural ecosystems work is exemplary: plants synthesize nutrients which feed herbivores; these in turn become food for carnivores, which produce significant quantities of organic waste which give rise to new generations of plants” [#22]. The natural ecosystem should serve as example for men and women. Our industrial system should try to get inspiration from natural ecosystems in by adopting a circular model at the end of its cycle of production and consumption, developing the capacity to absorb and re-use waste and by-products. This emerges as the new type of pathetic fallacy, i.e., the ascribing of nature’s traits to human beings that the theory of ecclesial ecocriticism sets forth. The Church herself is an imitator of nature. For instance, with regards to family planning or population control, the Catholic Church advocates a natural method, as if to say “imitate nature, do as nature does,” rejecting then abortion, artificial contraception and sterilization. The man-made methods can but lead to nature’s destruction or disturbance of its natural ecosystem, with glaring offshoots of ageing population in some European countries addicted to such methods, or the outnumbering of boys over girls in China for example. Such artificial and widespread methods not only harm the environment in processing them, but also bring human nature close to chaos, following suit to the extinction of some species of animals or plants. The way out is to foster intimacy with nature, in other words, becoming natural. The two types of pathetic fallacies are interconnected, especially in the ecclesial literature on climate change. One can see this connection in the fact that the Catholic Church’s ecocriticism demands the reader to be capable of hearing “both the cry of the earth and the cry of the poor” [2, #49], as they echo or call for one another. In fact, ecology applies to both the earth and man alike. Traditional ecological approaches and sociological approaches go hand in hand in ecclesial ecocriticism. Pope Francis[2] claims that when human beings fail to consider “the worth of a poor person, a human embryo, a person with disabilities – to offer just a few examples – it becomes difficult to hear the cry of nature itself; everything is connected” [#117]. Ecclesial ecocriticism is holistic. 5. Conclusions Insofar as general literary “ecocriticism seeks to redirect 160 Theorizing Ecclesial Ecocriticism: Pathetic Fallacy in Ecclesiastical Literature on Climate Change humanistic ideology, not spurning the natural sciences but using their ideas to sustain viable readings, [as both] literature and science trace their roots to the hermeneutics of religion and law” [6, p78], there is a place for the theory of ecclesial literary ecocriticism. One is applicable to literary writings, and the other to religion-related literature. The specificities of the latter, upon examination of ecclesial literature on climate change, are the restoration of human nature within the other natures, the consideration of the interdependence of natures, the attribution of the authorship of natures to God, and drawing the attention that nature’s protection is intrinsically dependent on one’s belief in its origin. Ecclesial theory of ecocriticism can be seen as one of the comprehensive solutions to nature’s problems. In Pope Francis[2]’s analysis, as “we are faced not with two separate crises, one environmental and the other social, but rather with one complex crisis which is both social and environmental” [#139], only comprehensive solutions that take into account the interactions within social systems and natural systems themselves are salutary options. Therefore, this theory of ecclesial ecocriticism illuminates the Bible and religious classics, thus forming believers’ consciousness to take care of the earth, our common home. REFERENCES [1] Cheryll Glotfelty. “Introduction: Literary Studies in an Age of Environmental Crisis” in Glotfelty, Cheryll and Fromm Harold, eds. The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, The University of Georgia Press, Georgia, xv-xxxvii, 1996. [2] Pope Francis. Laudato SI, Praised be: Encyclical letter of the Holy Father Francis on Care for our Common Home, Veritas, Dublin, 2015. [3] David Rothwell. A to Z of English Literature, Wordsworth Edition Limited, Hertfordshire, 2010. [4] Peter, Barry. Beginning Theory: An Introduction to Literary and Cultural Theory, Third edition, Manchester University Press, Manchester, 2009. [5] Lawrence Buell, Ursula K. Heise, and Karen Thornber. “Literature and the Environment”, The Annual Review of Environment and Resources, Online available from http://www.environ.annualreviews.org. [6] William Howarth. “Some Principles of Ecocriticism”, in Glotfelty, Cheryll and Fromm Harold, eds. The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, The University of Georgia Press, Georgia, 69-89, 1996. [7] Pope Benedict XVI. Encyclical letter Caritas in Veritate on Integral Human Development in Charity and in Truth, Libreria Editrice Vaticana, Vatican, 2009. [8] Neil Evernden. “Beyond Ecology: Self, Place, and Pathetic Fallacy.” The North American Review, Vol 263, N° 4, 16-20, 1978. [9] Rigby, Kate. “Earth, World, Text: On the (Im) possibility of Ecopoiesis”, New Literary History, Vol. 35, 427–442, 2004. [10] Sandro Magister, “The Pope Theologian Says: The Proof of God Is Beauty”, August 11, 2008, Online available from http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/206168?eng=y&r efresh_ce. [11] M. H. Abrams. A Glossary of Literary Terms, third edition, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, London, 1971. [12] Tara C Trapani. “The Forum on Religion and Ecology at Yale,” Online available from http://fore.yale.edu/climate-cha nge/statements-from-world-religions/christianity/. http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/206168?eng=y&refresh_ce http://chiesa.espresso.repubblica.it/articolo/206168?eng=y&refresh_ce http://fore.yale.edu/climate-change/statements-from-world-religions/christianity/ http://fore.yale.edu/climate-change/statements-from-world-religions/christianity/ http://fore.yale.edu/climate-change/statements-from-world-religions/christianity/ 1. Introduction 2. Methodology 3. Results 4. Discussion 5. Conclusions REFERENCES 
work_m2627t5tojcihe52e2dq5a6pyq	----	Culture and Art of Scientific Discoveries: A Selection of István Hargittai’s Writings Edited by Balazs Hargittai Culture and Art of Scientific Discoveries: A Selection of István Hargittai’s Writings Edited by Balazs Hargittai CHAM: SPRINGER NATURE SWITZERLAND, 2019, 482 PP., $49.99, ISBN 978-3-319-96688-5 REVIEWED BY OSMO PEKONEN TT he Hungarian family name Hargittai has become a byword for exquisite science writing with a touch of Mitteleuropa. István, Magdolna, and Balazs—father, mother and son of the Hargittai family—are all chemists; they are also prolific authors who have published exten- sively not only on chemistry but on the interaction of science and art, on twentieth-century history of science, and on personalia of famous scientists, especially Nobel laureates. A key concept of their work that brings them into contact with mathematics is symmetry. Over the years, István Hargittai has contributed many papers to this magazine, and in 1995 through 2000 he edited the Chemical Intelligencer, an ephemeral sister magazine modeled on ours. The present volume brings together from a time-span of four decades some seventy nontechnical papers of István’s, often written with Magdolna, Balazs, or other coauthors. The scope of the selection covers all the natural sciences, but we find it useful to focus mainly on mathematics in the present review. Four papers—all on aspects of symmetry— have been published in this magazine, while many others have appeared in journals of chemistry or in such general journals as the Hungarian Quarterly, Leonardo, Nature, Scientific American, and Symmetry. Twenty-five book reviews are included, some of them on mathematical topics. István Hargittai seems to have known everybody who was somebody in science, and he loves to be pho- tographed together with celebrities such as Martin Gardner, Edward Teller, Craig Venter, James D. Watson, and Eugene P. Wigner. I counted some twenty such ‘‘selfies’’ in the book. Symmetry is a catchword that appears in the title of an odd dozen books by the Hargittais; it also permeates the present selection. The dinner conversations of the family— we are told by Balazs—often revolved around symmetry as a scientific topic in which the children, Balazs and his little sister Eszter, could easily be involved. During family out- ings, the children were taught to observe and document symmetry everywhere: in flowers and birds, in buildings and works of art, in symbols and patterns. In the present volume, ubiquitous symmetry is discovered not only in molecules and other chemical structures but also in Degas’s and Matisse’s paintings, in Hungarian folk needlework, in mosaics and tessellations, in fruits and vegetables. The discoveries of quasicrystals and the buckminsterfullerene molecule obviously count as big topics for a mathemati- cally bent chemist. István Hargittai was born in Budapest in 1941 into an assimilated Jewish family. His father and grandmother perished in the Holocaust, and only a blunder of German bureaucracy—a death train was misrouted to Austria instead of Auschwitz—saved the rest of the nuclear family. As a grownup, István had to face the absurdity of Soviet- type totalitarianism installed in Hungary, but in spite of his designation as ‘‘class-alien,’’ he managed to navigate his way into university studies first in Budapest, then in Mos- cow. As late as 1982, Hungarian authorities denied him an exit visa for a scientific meeting in Israel. He became fully free to work and travel only after the regime change of 1989/1990. Having such personal experiences, István Har- gittai doesn’t hesitate to speak out on political issues. He has been concerned with the relationship between science and society, the fate of scientists under dictatorial rule, and in his historical studies he has been fascinated by the sur- vival of creativity even under the most adverse circumstances. According to Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘‘there is properly no history; only biography.’’ Following this maxim, Har- gittai focuses on individual fates of Soviet and Hungarian scientists under totalitarianism. These essays are especially valuable because they contain material that cannot be located anywhere else in English. There are several stories of moral heroism, yet some celebrated Soviet mathemati- cians are portrayed in a dark light: Lev Pontryagin and Ivan Vinogradov appear as dedicated anti-Semites, while Andrei Tikhonov was one of four academicians who in 1983 signed a letter denouncing the dissident physicist Andrei Sakharov. ‘‘Under today’s Russia, it appears still undecided whether Sakharov’s victory was final or mere[ly] transient,’’ Hargittai writes. As for Hungary, the damage done to science by the successive dictatorships is appalling. While writing a guidebook [1] about the scientific monuments of Budapest, their hometown, István and Magdolna realized how few scientist victims of the Holocaust have been commemo- rated. István stresses the anti-Semitic nature of the Horthy regime 1920–1944 and perceives the massive final perse- cution of Jews during the five-month rule of the Arrow Cross in 1944–1945 as its violent culmination. Among the 400,000 deported Hungarian Jews Hargittai singles out numerous scientists, including mathematicians. A memorial 76 THE MATHEMATICAL INTELLIGENCER � 2020 The Author(s) https://doi.org/10.1007/s00283-020-09973-1 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s00283-020-09973-1&amp;domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s00283-020-09973-1&amp;domain=pdf https://doi.org/10.1007/s00283-020-09973-1 plaque in the entrance hall of the Rényi Institute of Math- ematics of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences lists fifteen mathematician victims, but there were many more. Today’s Hungary is not a dictatorship, but it veers toward what her leaders blithely present as ‘‘illiberal democracy.’’ Hargittai starkly concludes: There is a strengthening impression that it is not only that official Hungary avoids facing the Past, but that beyond the falsification of history, it carries on the political legacy of the era between the two world wars that led to a national catastrophe. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Open access funding provided by University of Jyväskylä (JYU). Open Access This article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or for- mat, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons licence, and indicate if changes were made. The images or other third party material in this article are included in the article’s Creative Commons licence, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the article’s Creative Commons licence and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder. To view a copy of this licence, visit http://creativecommons.org/ licenses/by/4.0/. Osmo Pekonen University of Jyväskylä Agora, PL 35, 40014 Jyväskylä Finland e-mail: osmo.pekonen@jyu.fi REFERENCES [1] István Hargittai and Magdolna Hargittai. Budapest Scientific: A Guidebook. Oxford University Press, Oxford; 2015. Publisher’s Note Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. � 2020 The Author(s), Volume 42, Number 3, 2020 77 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ Culture and Art of Scientific Discoveries: A Selection of István Hargittai’s Writings Edited by Balazs Hargittai Acknowledgments REFERENCES 
work_m6anptdly5eobkkq5dgcw2fbcm	----	Oportunidad Editorial Oportunidad A. Thomas Pezzella Director of Special Projects, World Heart Foundation Director/Founder International Children’s Heart Fund Attending Cardiothoracic Surgeon Shanghai Chest Hospital Shanghai, China Opportunity “There are two kinds of opportunity: one which we chance upon, the other which we create.” (An Asian perspective) Takamori Saigo “No great man ever complains of want of opportunity.” (An American perspective) Ralph Waldo Emerson “Success is being available at the time of opportunity.” (An European perspective) Disraeli Fear, anger, frustration, despair, and despondency are not uncommon moods these days amongst cardiotho- racic (CT) surgeons worldwide. The periods of joy and happiness related to personal and professional satisfac- tion have grown less and less. The expansion of general thoracic surgery reached its peak in the mid fifties and subsequently decreased with the introduction and use of new and more effective antituberculous medications. Next, the growth and expansion of cardiac surgery in the fifties with the introduction of the heart/lung machine, and peak- ing in the last twenty or so years with coronary artery bypass surgery, is slowly but progressively decreasing with better preventive methods, drugs, and emerging sophisticated angioplasty/stent strategies and devices. Hav- ing abandoned general thoracic and vascular surgery during the heyday of coronary artery surgery left many cardiac surgeons devoid of skills/experience and referrals in these areas. A growing somber mood is readily witnessed at medical meetings and in the literature. It is interesting to note that this unrest is felt across the entire cardiotho- racic global community. A few thoughts regarding volun- Cir. Cardiov. 2006;13(3):129-36 A. Thomas Pezzella 17, Shamrock Street Worcester, MA, USA 01605 Phone: 1-508-791-1951 E-mail: tpezzella@hotmail.com (www.ichfund.org) (www.world-heart.org) 9 tary humanitarian efforts may help mollify, or even eradicate some elements of this somber mood. In the developed countries/economies, decreased job opportunities, reimbursement, salaries, and caseloads are contrasted with increased complexity, patient/society ex- pectations, accountability, increased malpractice suits, and an oversupply of CT surgeons. This is in the setting of sophisticated facilities, resources, ready access, and ad- vanced technology. On the other hand, in the developing countries/emerging economies there exists large caseloads, waiting lists, increased need, fewer qualified CT surgeons, less compensation and resources, uneven access, and lim- ited governmental financial or political support. This rep- resents a comedy in the former and a tragedy in the latter scenarios. Previous publications have given an appreciation of the global picture of cardiothoracic surgery. Our global popu- lation of 6.5 billion lives in 268 countries/dependencies/ territories (191 in the United Nations). Over 6000 active cardiothoracic surgeons practice in over 5,000 centers, performing over 2 million cardiac operations and another 3000-4000 non cardiac thoracic procedures. The unbal- ance of access, manpower, and caseloads has been previ- ously reported by Cox and Unger1,2 (Fig. 1). It is clear that the global village appreciates the prob- lems, devastation, and concerns caused by communicable diseases that include tuberculosis, malaria, and HIV/AIDS. The emerging threat of Asian flu has increased this val- id concern and emphasis. However, non-communicable diseases/problems far outnumber communicable diseases in terms of mortality and morbidity (DALYs)*3-7 (Table I). Cardiothoracic surgeons are actively involved in the care of these major diseases worldwide. A huge outpouring of money and resources has been appropriately allocated to address these horrific diseases, yet more will be needed, as these non-communicable diseases increase, especially in the developing countries4,7 (Fig. 2). So, as the government (bilateral), multinational (mul- tilateral e.g. United Nations), non-government organiza- *DALYs: the sum of life years lost due to premature mortality and years lived with disability adjusted for severity7. 130 Cirugía Cardiovascular, vol. 13, Núm. 3/2006 10 tions (NGOs), medical societies, institutions, and competing specialties continue to argue, debate, and compete for di- rection and control of the best ways to analyze, approach, resolve, and resolve their differences, let us look at some alternate approaches to these problems. This hopefully will result in an array of practical/tactical initiatives that may well serve the global cardiothoracic surgical community, and perhaps alleviate, if not solve, the somber mood and flat affect we are witnessing today amongst our peers. In 2001, Dr. Jim Cox delivered a landmark presiden- tial address at the AATS meeting that reached out for global initiatives to address the global disparity in car- diothoracic surgery resources, care, and access1. This energized the 40-80 worldwide NGOs, and institutions long involved in volunteer/humanitarian efforts. A series of symposia, lectures and conferences have subsequent- ly been held over the past 5 years by the four major cardiothoracic surgical societies American Association for Thoracic Surgery (AATS); Socity of Thoracic Sur- geons (STS); European Association for Cardio-thoracic Surgery (EACTS); Asian Society of Cardiovascular Sur- gery (ASCVS), reporting a number of experiences, ini- tiatives, and proposals, and providing a forum for others to engage and present their own individual experiences and recommendations for future endeavors. The primary mission of the World Heart Foundation founded by Jim Cox is basically to help increase the quan- tity and quality of cardiothoracic surgery worldwide8. The major programs and initiatives to date include co-sponsor- ing and supporting three annual outreach conferences, and hosting three symposia on global cardiothoracic surgery at the last three annual AATS meetings. A humanitarian web- site (www.world-heart.org), readily available directly, or 1222 1,400 1,200 1,000 800 600 400 200 N um be r of c as es p er m il li on 0 No rth A me ric a Au str ali a Eu ro pe M ea n So uth A me ric a Ru ssi a As ia Af ric a 786 569 169 147 37 25 18 Figure 1. Discrepancies by region in access to cardiac surgery1,2. TABLE I. SELECTED DEATHS BY CAUSE IN WHO REGIONS FOR 2002*† Total deaths 57,029,000 – Cardiovascular diseases (CAD/CVD) 16,733,000 • Ischemic heart disease (CAD) 7,208,000 • Rheumatic heart disease 327,000 • Congenital heart abnormalities 281,751 – Tuberculosis 1,566,000 – Trachea/bronchus/lung cancers 1,243,000 – Road traffic accidents 1,192,000 – Esophageal cancer 446,000 *World Health Report 2004 (www.who.int/whr/2004/annex/topic/en/annex_2_en.pdf). †Krug EG. Injury surveillance is key to prevent injuries. Lancet 2004:364:1563-6. CAD: coronary artery disease; CVD: cerebrovascular disease. 30 Western countries Non-Western (devoloping) countries25 M il li on s of d ea th s fr om c ar di ov as cu la r ca us es 20 15 10 5 0 1990 9 2020 19 6 5 Figure 2. Cardiovascular deaths (Deaths from cardiovascular causes, worldwide, in 1990, and estimated for 2020 4,7). 131A. Thomas Pezzella: Oportunidad 11 from the CTSNet website, is evolving into a viable portal relating to information and news on global volunteer/hu- manitarian efforts/opportunities, as well as a vehicle for others to share their views and experiences. Working with a number of NGO affiliates and individuals, strategies for global partnership and support for a variety of projects and initiates are emerging. Examples include cooperation with the NGO Heart to Heart International (www.heart-2-heart. org) to help support new initiatives in Russia. Another re- cent project to help develop a model CT surgery residency in China is a basic attempt to help increase and improve an already existing and viable training system (www.world- heart.org). Now, let us consider some other practical/tactical proposals that hopefully may be of some interest. Let us divide the world into 10 regions, separated into three spheres by 8 h time zones (west/central/east) (Fig. 3). It is readily observed that there is imbalance of cardiotho- racic services in all regions, but the major challenges are concentrated in five regions. It is proposed that the spheres of influence be controlled and administered by the developed and emerging countries within that sphere, with occasional overlap, based on previous projects/pro- grams8. The surgeons and societies will look at and support those programs within their sphere. These pro- grams are of five categories9 (Fig. 4). Upscale are pro- grams where surgeons/teams go to learn sophisticated or modern approaches to cardiothoracic problems. Lateral programs are like sister affiliations with exchange of a variety of clinical/education/training/research/adminis- trative initiatives. The other three programs are unique to emerging or developing countries. Upgrade programs need exposure to advanced training and techniques, and to be supported financially until the local health care economy catches up. Rejuvenate programs involve re- establishing a program that has ceased, whereas de novo is a new program. The donors are those who can help, whereas the hosts are those that can also help, or are in need of help. As with most CT surgery programs there are four areas of practice (Fig. 5). Clinical initiatives include paying and non-paying patients coming to a donor coun- try for services, unavailable or unaffordable in the host country. It also includes individuals/teams/groups going to host countries, hopefully on a recurring short term basis to perform operations either independently or with the host team. Education/training initiatives occur in many ways and at many levels. The internet/web, especially the North America Europe China USA Western/Eastern Mongolia Canada Tibet * † * † § * § Central America North Africa India Pacific Rim Mexico Middle East Pakistan Central Caribean * † ‡ § * † ‡ § * † ‡ § * † § South America Africa Australia/New Zealand West/Central East/South * † ‡ § * † § * † Major concerns *Imbalance × 10 – Access to care – Finance – Level of care †Major health challenge × 5 – Disease (e.g. HIV) – Poverty – Violence/war ‡Volunteer programs – Donor × 8 §Volunteer programs – Host × 8 Figure 3. Global scheme – Ten regions. 132 Cirugía Cardiovascular, vol. 13, Núm. 3/2006 12 CTSNet, is the premier source of cardiothoracic related information/knowledge. In countries without library sup- port, journals/texts are hard to find or purchase. Meet- ings continue to be a valuable asset to learn, interact with new/old colleagues, and receive updated informa- tion re-equipment/supplies – product. Visionary efforts of the EACTS like the Bergamo school pioneered by Lucio Parenzan and Ottavio Alfieri (European School for Cardio-Thoracic Surgery) and the Multi Media Man- ual of CT Surgery (http://mmcts.ctsnetjournals.org/) de- veloped by Marko Turina have been invaluable to many CT surgeons, especially in developing countries, as well as short term observational opportunities, and accredited or non-accredited residency/fellowship training in devel- oped programs. Yet, the most valuable and most effec- tive modality remains on site, sustained training of not only surgeons, but the entire staff of the host team. This last effort is the most important and gratifying, since it helps provide increased local support, and satisfaction, decreases despondency and frustration, adds hope and enthusiasm, as well as curtailing emigration and “poach- ing” of qualified health care workers. Donor individual/ program/partner Upscale Lateral Upgrade Rejuvenate De novo Host individual/ program/partner Figure 4. Categories of cardiac surgery centers/programs/units9. Research – Ethical prospective clinical studies – Basic/bench initiatives at host programs where the pathology is prevalent Cardiac surgery program/Project Clinical Basic Clinical initiatives – Patients (paying/non – paying) to developed countries – Individual team support in developing host countries Education/Teaching – In support of clinical initiatives – Broad based telecommunication efforts – CTS Net A/P/L (Administrative/Political/Logistical) – Financing – Marketing examples of successful programs/ projects – Equipment/supplies – Product Figure 5. Cardiothoracic program structure. 133A. Thomas Pezzella: Oportunidad 13 Research, be it bench, bush, or bedside, is an impor- tant part of the overall effort. Helping with clinical case reports, technical advances, retrospective reviews, pro- spective studies, and basic reviews should be fostered and encouraged by the major journals, with a sustained effort to assist/help with English as a second language challenge. Again, present and future research opportuni- ties may be more practical and cost-effective in those countries where the relevant pathology is more wide- spread. Sir Magdi Yacoub delivered a provocative over- view of research in developing countries at The Global Thoracic Surgery Symposium at the 83rd annual AATS meeting in Boston, MA in 2003 (www.aats/o/index.html). He outlined valid reasons for research/development (R/D) in developing countries. This included developing local expertise, especially with talented individuals already in place and providing them an opportunity. Local R/D gives emphasis to recognizing local problems. It generates an- swers locally for specific problems, enhances dignity, and allows participation and contributions to global knowl- edge. He stressed the issue of funding, and offered some practical solutions, including targeting neglected, but im- portant diseases, cooperation between NGOs and multilat- eral/bilateral organizations/countries, as well as “twinning” programs between institutions. An example is the endo- myocardial fibrosis research joint project conducted in Maputo, Mozambique between Chain of Hope and the Harefield Research Foundation, and Imperial College. Administrative areas need but to look at existing models and projects as examples on where and how to get started. Alain Carpentier’s effort in Ho Chi Minh City is a model to study, as well as Aldo Castaneda’s program in Guatemala City, Guatemala, Sir Magdi Ya- coub’s work with Chain of Hope (www.chainofhope. org) and Richard Jonas’s monumental effort with Project Hope at Shanghai Children’s Medical Center in Shang- hai, China. Within each of the three major time zones sphere are long standing host programs to look at: e.g. Children’s Heart Link (www.childrensheartlink.org), In- ternational Children’s Heart Foundation in the USA; Dr. Kalangos’s “Hearts for All” association in Geneva, Swit- zerland10 (www.cptg.ch/en/start.htm); Dr. K.M. Cheri- an’s group in Chennai, India; and Hans Borst’s work in Russia11. At the society level the EACTS has taken a bold step in the establishment of an international com- mittee to explore further opportunities and projects par- ticularly in Eastern Europe and the former African colonies (www.eacts.org/committee/eacts/800). An important area that needs further development is an international data- base that initially collates the global number of centers, surgeons, and caseloads. Subsequent voluntary results and outcomes will follow12. This has been seen recently in a voluntary report of outcomes in Brazil13. Finally, at what levels should one get involved? CT surgery residents should get involved. Exposure to prob- lems like TB, rheumatic fever, and congenital heart dis- ease exist in emerging economies. Going and performing operations in a controlled, mentored fashion is both practical and beneficial to all involved. A recent example is in Uganda14. An international exchange of USA surgi- cal residents from the Department of Surgery of the University of California at San Francisco (UCSF) have a six week elective offering at Makerere University in Kampala, Uganda. This model should be studied close- ly as a future model for CT surgery programs in other countries. Practicing CT surgeons are divided into three groups (Fig. 6). Getting involved in volunteer/human- itarian work is dependent on the individuals own needs/ wants/values/expectations. Yet, it may well be that 10-20% of future paying job opportunities may be in the emerging economies. There is precedent for this. Not so long ago, CT surgeons ventured to several of the Middle East countries for short term lucrative employ- ment. In the future, with medical tourism going global, Figure 6. Surgical career. Premedical Idealistic/Learning stage Medical school Residency – Formative/Learning/Doing stage Practice Stage one – Adjustment phase Stage two – Productive phase Focused/Living stage Stage three – Downsizing phase Semiretirement Legacy stage Retirement TABLE II. QUESTIONS/REQUESTS* – Cardiothoracic surgeons seeking jobs or voluntary opportunities both at home/abroad – Cardiothoracic residents/trainees (both home/abroad) seeking further education/training opportunities be they: • meeting, observation sites, or • accredited non-accredited fellowships – Patient/family/friend/acquaintance/group/NGO seeking help for care/ surgery – NGOs seeking information, team recruitment, or free-donated pro- duct – Individuals/groups/corporate with available product/services to dona- te – Host (foreign) surgeons, teams, centers, countries seeking help/support for their programs *Most frequent E-mail questions/request over a two year period (2004-2006) to the author. 134 Cirugía Cardiovascular, vol. 13, Núm. 3/2006 there may well be future jobs in foreign countries for the adventurous type. The role of semi-retired/retired CT surgeons is a topic for expanded discussion. There are a variety of opportunities to consider: voluntary/humanitarian work, doing surgery, assisting surgery, or observing and giving valuable advice/recommendations. Mentoring is proba- bly the biggest and most effective role for this valuable and effective group of individuals. Floyd Loop has dis- cussed this extremely well15. In summary, there are questions (Table II), and there are opportunities. Gardner16 presented a blunt, yet hope- ful overview of the situation in the USA, with regards to training and job opportunities. He emphasized, as have others that bold and courageous decisions must be made at the training level. In the meantime, those who are in the midst of their practice, be it beginning, mid, or final phases, are looking for some hope and energiz- ing forces. It is somewhat tragic that cardiothoracic sur- gery has to suffer the perils of supply/demand, financial restructuring, outsourcing, and imbalance (Fig. 3). Cer- tainly, in the volunteer/humanitarian area the rewards are both valuable and invaluable to both the surgeon and those they serve9. Aristotle once said philosophy does not thrive on an empty stomach, and an old Italian prov- erb that without money the saints do not perform miracles. So while we are deliberating how to reach our personal and professional career goals, consider the world of volunteer/humanitarian work. It may help generate the fuel and energy needed to meet the challenges of op- portunity. Yet we realize that today’s needs and wants are real, and warrant attention, especially job and fam- ily satisfaction and security. A Chinese proverb that talks about the distant lake not satisfying the immediate thirst still has relevance today. “Wherever there is danger, there lurks opportunity; whenever there is opportunity, there lurks danger. The two are inseparable. They go together.” (A global perspective) Earl Nightingale El miedo, enfado, frustración y desesperación son fre- cuentes en la comunidad de cirujanos cardiotorácicos y vasculares y la alegría y satisfacción personal y profesio- nal han disminuido. La expansión inicial de la cirugía torácica y cardíaca ha disminuido tras el advenimiento de los antituberculosos por una parte, y por otra, por la acción de métodos de prevención, fármacos, sofisticados sistemas de dilatación y otros aparatos. Muchos ciruja- nos que abandonaron la cirugía torácica y la cirugía vascular durante la explosión de la cirugía coronaria han quedado sin experiencia en muchas áreas de conocimien- to. Es interesante observar el sentimiento de inquietud en la comunidad cardiotorácica. Algunas consideraciones acerca de esfuerzos voluntarios humanitarios podrían ayu- dar a suavizar o eliminar algunos elementos de este som- brío panorama. En las economías desarrolladas existe un contraste entre la disminución de ofertas de trabajo, salarios y cargas de trabajo en relación con el aumento de la com- plejidad, demandas del paciente o sociales, auditorías, mala práctica y exceso de cirujanos. Esto en el contexto de instalaciones sofisticadas y tecnología avanzada. Por otra parte, en los países en vías de desarrollo hay impor- tantes cargas de trabajo, listas de espera, aumento de necesidades, menor número de profesionales, menos compensaciones y recursos y apoyo gubernamental y financiero limitado. Comedia en unos y tragedia en otros escenarios. La población del mundo, de 6.500 millones, vive en 268 países y territorios (191 en la ONU). Hay unos 6.000 cirujanos cardiotorácicos en unos 5.000 centros, que rea- lizan unos 2 millones de intervenciones anuales y otros 3-4 millones de procedimientos no cardíacos intratoráci- cos. Las desigualdades en infraestructura y acceso han sido publicadas por Cox y Unger1,2 (Fig. 1). Parece evidente que existe preocupación acerca de los problemas y la devastación causados por enfermedades transmisibles como la malaria, SIDA, tuberculosis, siendo un ejemplo reciente muy claro el de la fiebre aviar. Sin embargo, las enfermedades no transmisibles son muy su- periores a las transmisibles en cuanto a morbimortalidad (DALY)3-7 (Tabla I). Los cirujanos cardiotorácicos están involucrados en el cuidado de estas enfermedades. A pe- sar de importantes presupuestos dedicados a estos temas, se necesitarán cantidades muy superiores, en especial en países en vías de desarrollo4,7 (Fig. 2). Mientras continúa el debate entre organizaciones gu- bernamentales, multinacionales (ONU) y no gubernamen- tales, sociedades médicas, instituciones y especialidades en competencia acerca de la dirección y control de las mejores formas de analizar y resolver esas diferencias, analizaremos abordajes alternativos. Éstos pueden servir a la comunidad cardiotorácica para aliviar estas perspec- tivas sombrías de las que hablamos. En 2001, el Dr. Jim Cox dedicó su conferencia pre- sidencial de la AATS a las iniciativas globales para li- mitar la disparidad global en los recursos, acceso y cuidado en la cirugía cardiotorácica1, potenciando a un total de 40-80 ONG de todo el mundo involucradas en esfuerzos humanitarios. Se han realizado encuentros y conferencias en estos años organizados por las cuatro 14 135A. Thomas Pezzella: Oportunidad sociedades principales (AATS, STS, EACTS, ASCVS), comunicando unas experiencias, iniciativas y propues- tas, proporcionando un foro de expresión para indivi- duos y organizaciones a la búsqueda de recomendaciones para el futuro. La misión principal de la World Heart Foundation (WHF) fundada por James Cox es ayudar a aumentar la calidad y cantidad de cirugía cardiotorácica en todo el mundo8. Los principales programas hasta el momento incluyen el patrocinio y apoyo de tres conferencias anua- les y la organización de tres simposios sobre la cirugía cardiotorácica global en las tres últimas reuniones de la AATS. Una página de internet humanitaria (www.world- heart.org) a la que se puede acceder directamente o a través de CTSNet ha evolucionado hacia un portal viable de información y noticias en relación con esfuerzos hu- manitarios y como vehículo para compartir experiencias. El trabajo de afiliados y miembros de ONG hace que aumenten las estrategias de cooperación globales. Algu- nos ejemplos incluyen la cooperación con la ONG Heart to Heart International (www.heart-2-heart.org) para inicia- tivas en Rusia. Otro proyecto reciente es la ayuda al desa- rrollo de un modelo de residencia en China, con vistas a mejorar un sistema existente (www.world-heart.org). Consideremos ahora otras propuestas que podrían ser de interés. Dividamos el mundo en 10 regiones, separadas en tres esferas por ocho husos horarios (oeste/central/este) (Fig. 3). Se aprecia un desequilibrio entre regiones, pero los retos principales se concentran en cinco regiones. Se propone que las esferas de influencia puedan llegar a controlarse y administrarse por los países desarrollados y en emergencia de esas esferas con solapamiento oca- sional en función de proyectos previos8. Los cirujanos y sociedades de esas esferas apoyarían esos programas, que serían de cinco categorías9 (Fig. 4). Los programas de desarrollo serían aquellos en los que los cirujanos o equipos aprenderían técnicas o abordajes sofisticados. Los programas laterales serían los de intercambio de iniciativas clínicas/educación/investigación/administra- tivas. Los otros tres programas serían únicos para los países en vías de desarrollo. Los programas de mejora necesitan entrenamiento avanzado y apoyo económico hasta que los sistemas de salud locales los incorporen. Los programas de rejuvenecimiento incluyen el restable- cimiento de programas que hayan cesado. Los donantes son los que podrían ayudar y los huéspedes los que podrían ayudar de forma parcial o están necesitados de ayuda. Como en todos los programas cardiotorácicos hay cuatro áreas de práctica (Fig. 5). Las iniciativas clínicas incluyen pacientes que acuden a países donantes para servicios no disponibles en el de origen. También inclu- yen individuos o grupos que se desplazan a países re- ceptores para realizar intervenciones de forma aislada o con los equipos locales. Las iniciativas de educación pueden desarrollarse de varias maneras. Internet, y en especial CTSNet, es la fuente principal de información. En países en desarrollo, las revistas y textos son difí- ciles de adquirir. Los congresos continúan siendo una forma de interacción. Esfuerzos visionarios como la escuela de Bérgamo de EACTS, organizada por Lucio Parenzan y Ottavio Alfieri, y el Manual Multimedia de Cirugía Cardiotorácica, desarrollado por Marko Turina (www.mmcts.ctsnetjournals.org), han sido de gran valor para muchos cirujanos, en especial en países en desarro- llo, así como para muy diversos programas de entrena- miento. La modalidad más valiosa sigue estando en el lugar de destino, el entrenamiento no sólo de cirujanos sino del equipo local completo, siendo el más gratifican- te ya que proporciona más apoyo a los locales, más satisfacción y disminuye la dependencia y frustración, añade esperanza y entusiasmo y limita la posible emi- gración de profesionales cualificados. La investigación es una parte importante. La ayuda con casos clínicos, avances técnicos, revisiones retros- pectivas, estudios prospectivos debería ser apoyada por las revistas principales, ayudando en el lenguaje inglés escrito. Las oportunidades de investigación presente y futura serán más prácticas en los países en los que hay enfermedad relevante. Sir Magdi Yacoub presentó una revisión provocativa acerca de la investigación en paí- ses en desarrollo en el Global Thoracic Surgery Sym- posium en la reunión 83 de la AATS en Boston en 2003 (www.aats/o/index.html), delineando las líneas de inves- tigación en esos países. Estas razones incluían el desa- rrollo de conocimiento local con individuos talentosos, proporcionándoles una oportunidad. El desarrollo local hace hincapié en el reconocimiento de los problemas locales. Genera respuestas para problemas específicos, aumenta la dignidad y permite la participación y contri- buciones al conocimiento general. Yacoub hizo hincapié en la financiación y ofreció algunas soluciones, inclu- yendo el ataque a enfermedades olvidadas pero impor- tantes, la colaboración entre ONG y organizaciones y países de forma bilateral o multilateral y la asociación de programas entre instituciones. Un ejemplo es el pro- yecto conjunto de investigación en fibrosis endomiocár- dica que se lleva a cabo en Maputo (Mozambique), entre la Chain of Hope, la Harefield Research Founda- tion y el Imperial College. Se necesitan áreas administrativas, pero estudiando modelos existentes. El proyecto de Alain Carpentier en Ho Chi Minh es un modelo a estudiar, así como los de Aldo Castaneda en Guatemala, el trabajo de Sir Magdi Yacoub con la Chain of Hope (www.chainofhope.org) o el esfuerzo monumental de Richard Jonas con el Project 15 136 Cirugía Cardiovascular, vol. 13, Núm. 3/2006 Hope en el Shanghai Children’s Medical Center en Shanghai. En las tres zonas principales que hemos men- cionado hay programas de larga evolución de los que hay que aprender, p. ej. Children’s Heart Link (www. childrensheartlink.org), International Children’s Heart Foundation en EE.UU., la asociación de Afksendiyos Kalangos en Ginebra Hearts for All10 (www.cptg.ch/en/ start.htm), el grupo del Dr. K.M. Cherian en Chennai (India) y el trabajo iniciado por Hans Borst en Rusia11. A nivel societario, EACTS ha dado un muy importante paso adelante mediante el establecimiento del Interna- tional Cooperation Committee para explorar oportunida- des futuras, y particularmente en Europa oriental y las antiguas colonias africanas (www.eacts.org/committee/ eacts/800). Un área importante que necesita desarrollo futuro es una base de datos internacional que recoja números generales de centros, cirujanos y casos. Datos sobre resultados llegarán de forma voluntaria en el fu- turo12. Esto puede comprobarse en un informe voluntario de actividades en Brasil13. Finalmente, en qué niveles debe centrarse uno. Los residentes deberían involucrarse. La tuberculosis, fiebre reumática y cardiopatías congénitas existen. La realiza- ción de intervenciones con supervisión es práctica y beneficiosa. Un ejemplo reciente está en Uganda14. Un intercambio de residentes de EE.UU. del Departamento de Cirugía de la Universidad de California, en San Fran- cisco (UCSF), ofrece una estancia de 6 semanas electivas en la Universidad Makerere, en Kampala. Este modelo podría estudiarse con cuidado como modelo futuro para programas en otros países. Los cirujanos practicantes se dividirían en tres grupos (Fig. 6). La participación en proyectos humanitarios depende de los propios valores y expectativas de los individuos. Podría ocurrir que el 10-20% de oportunidades de trabajo asalariado se pre- sentasen en las economías en fase de emergencia, y ya hay precedentes. Tiempo atrás grupos de cirujanos se desplazaron a Oriente Medio para empleos lucrativos de corta duración. En el futuro, con la transformación del turismo médico en un fenómeno global, podrían presen- tarse oportunidades de trabajo de este tipo. El papel de cirujanos retirados o semirretirados es un tema de discusión. Hay ciertas oportunidades para consi- derar: trabajo humanitario, realización de intervenciones, asistencia en cirugía o como consultor. La enseñanza es quizás el papel más importante y eficaz de este grupo tan importante de individuos. Floyd Loop lo ha discutido en detalle15. En resumen, hay preguntas (Tabla II) y oportunidades. Timothy Gardner16 presentó una revisión de la situación en EE.UU. relativa a los empleos y oportunidades. Las decisiones importantes deberían tomarse durante el en- trenamiento. Los que están a mitad o al final de sus carreras buscan nuevas energías. Es trágico que la ciru- gía cardiotorácica deba sufrir los peligros de la oferta y la demanda, de la reestructuración financiera, de la ex- ternalización y de los desequilibrios (Fig. 3). En la era de los esfuerzos humanitarios, las recompensas son va- liosas para los cirujanos y para los que se sirve9. Aris- tóteles dijo que la filosofía no sirve a un estómago vacío, y un viejo proverbio italiano dice que sin dinero los santos no hacen milagros. Así pues, mientras delibera- mos acerca de nuestros objetivos profesionales y perso- nales, consideremos el mundo del trabajo humanitario. Las necesidades del momento son reales y requieren atención. Un proverbio chino dice que hablar acerca del lago distante no satisface la sed inmediata, y ello todavía tiene relevancia hoy. BIBLIOGRAFÍA 1. Cox JL. Presidential address: changing boundaries. J Thorac Cardiovasc Surg 2001;122:413-8. 2. Unger F. Worldwide survey on cardiac interventions 1995. Cor Europaeum 1999;7:128-46. 3. Krug EG. Injury surveillance is key to prevent injuries. Lan- cet 2004:364:1563-6. 4. Reddy KS. Cardiovascular disease in Non-western countries. N Engl J Med 2004;350:2438-40. 5. Fuster V, Voute J. MDGs: chronic diseases are not on the agenda. Lancet 2005;366:1512-4. 6. Strong K, Mathers C, Leeder S, Beaglehole R. Preventing chronic diseases: how many lives can we save? Lancet 2005; 366:1578-82. 7. Murray CJL, Loped AD. Regional patterns of disability – Free life expectancy and disability-adjusted life expec- tancy: Global Burden of Disease study. Lancet 1997; 349: 1347-52. 8. World Heart Foundation: our approach to improving cardiac surgical services in developing countries (www.world-heart. org/doc/8862). 9. Pezzella AT. International cardiac surgery: a global per- spective. Seminars in Thorac Cardiovasc Surg 2002; 14: 298-320. 10. Kalangos A. Letter to the editor: “Hearts for all”: a humani- tarian association for the promotion of cardiology and car- diac surgery in developing countries. 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work_m7yhsthbg5aq3bls46n247hsuu	----	Microsoft Word - N072014-0502-150036.doc 中国科学: 地球科学 2015 年 第 45 卷 第 6 期: 811 ~ 819 www.scichina.com earth.scichina.com 中文引用格式: 程国栋, 李新. 2015. 流域科学及其集成研究方法. 中国科学: 地球科学, 45: 811–819 英文引用格式: Cheng G D, Li X. 2015. Integrated research methods in watershed science. Science China: Earth Sciences, 58: 1159–1168, doi: 10.1007/s11430-015-5074-x 《中国科学》杂志社 SCIENCE CHINA PRESS 论 文 流域科学及其集成研究方法 程国栋, 李新* 中国科学院寒区旱区环境与工程研究所, 兰州 730000 * 联系人, E-mail: lixin@lzb.ac.cn 收稿日期: 2014-11-12; 接受日期: 2015-03-18; 网络版发表日期: 2015-05-14 国家自然科学基金重大研究计划项目(编号: 91225302, 91425303)和中国科学院创新交叉团队项目资助 摘要 文章讨论了流域科学的概念、研究方法和基础建设. 流域是自然界的基本单元, 又具有陆地表层系统所有的复杂性, 使得流域成为适合开展地球系统科学实践的绝佳单 元. 流域科学是流域尺度上的地球系统科学, 它在过去 20 多年来快速发展起来, 目标是理 解和预测流域复杂系统的行为, 同时服务于流域可持续发展. 然而, 流域科学面临认识复杂 系统、实现尺度转换和模拟人-自然系统协同演进等困难, 这些困难的核心是方法论的困难. 本文重点讨论了流域科学的研究方法, 包括自组织复杂系统方法、统计力学主导的升尺度方 法、基于选择和进化原理的达尔文学说、强调人-自然协同演进的水经济和生态经济思路、 以及非结构化问题综合集成方法. 这些方法一起, 正在搭起整体和还原方法之间的桥梁, 构 建起一个兼顾硬集成和软集成, 既考虑自然系统又考虑人, 并在实践上可操作的研究方法体 系. 这些方法将推进流域科学走向成熟, 并为整个陆地表层系统科学方法论研究做出贡献. 关键词 流域科学 陆地表层系统科学 地球系统科学 自组织复杂系统 尺度 达尔文学说 人-自然协同演进 综合集成 宏观科学 地球系统科学自概念肇始到目前已经历了20多 年的快速发展. 各类地球系统模型的建立, 地球观测 系统的日趋成熟, 标志着地球系统科学已经越过了 其婴幼期, 正在成长为一个翩翩少年. 然而, 科学上 的斐然成就, 技术上的阔步前行, 并未本质性地提高 对地球系统的可预报性, 在面对更好地服务于人类 社会可持续发展的目标时, 也还有一条需要跨越的 鸿沟(Reid等, 2010). 地球科学各个分支学科所取得 的成就, 如何从根本上支持天气、气候和环境预报能 力的提升? 如何更好地集成社会科学的成就, 从而 凸显出“人”在地球系统中的角色? 如何支持一个可 持续的未来地球? 是目前地球系统科学急切需要回 答的课题. 地球系统科学研究, 当然应该有全球视野. 然 而, 大千世界, 纷繁复杂, 地球系统科学研究中一个 突出的问题是难以确定地球系统的基本单元并划定 单元之间的边界. 如何穿破迷雾找寻到更有效的集 成地球系统“水-土-气-生-人”各个要素的方法, 我们 或许应该将视野首先聚焦在地球系统的一个基本单 元上, 而流域, 就是这样的一个基本单元. 从水文的角度看, 流域可被视为一个“原子”单 元, 全球陆地正是由从汇水区到子流域到小流域再 到大江大河的一个个流域组成的. 流域是由分水岭 分割而成的自然地域单元, 水、泥沙、其他沉积物和 化学物质, 都主要在流域内部循环, 并通过水流汇集 到流域出口处. 因此, 流域是一个既与外界保持着物 程国栋等: 流域科学及其集成研究方法 812 质、能量和信息交换, 但同时又相对封闭、有着清晰 边界的系统. 从生态的角度看, 流域也被认为是陆地生态系 统的一个浑然天成的单元. 生态学家认为, “流域生 态学的一个重要意义在于它是生态学理论研究和实 际应用相结合 适宜的实验地”(邓红兵等, 1998), 因 此, 必须把流域看做一个完整的、异质性的生态单元, 研究流域内不同层级、高地、沿岸带、水体间物质、 能量和信息交换, 来分析和模拟流域生态系统的整 体功能, 并以流域为单元来实现生态修复(蔡庆华等, 1998; 陈求稳和欧阳志云, 2005). 从社会经济的角度看, 世界上不少行政边界是 流域分水岭或者大江大河, 人类的经济活动往往沿 主要河流展开, 流域经济带因而成为规划经济活动 的一个重要单元. 此外, 流域内普遍存在着上下游用 水矛盾以及由水而激发的其他矛盾, 因此, 流域更是 管理水资源、土地资源和其他资源以及探索社会可持 续发展的一个理想单元. 总之, 流域一方面是一个相对封闭的系统, 它和 外部系统的交换界面较为清晰, 这有利于厘清系统 的边界, 相对独立而又可控地开展研究; 另一方面, 流域又是由水资源系统、生态系统与社会经济系统协 同构成的、具有层次结构和整体功能的复杂系统(程 国栋等, 2011; Cheng等, 2014), 它具有陆地表层系统 所有的复杂性, 其综合研究几乎需要涉及到地球系 统科学的各个门类. 这两个特点相辅相成, 使得流域 成为适合开展地球系统科学实践的绝佳单元. 经过20多年的持续探索, 流域科学的框架初见 端倪, 已初步廓清了它的研究领域, 探索了其综合研 究方法. 期间, 美国国家研究委员会(NRC)的咨询报 告起到了关键作用. 这些报告包括: 《水文科学的机 遇》(NRC, 1991)、《美国地质调查局的流域研究》 (NRC, 1997)、《美国流域的新策略》(NRC, 1999)、《美 国地质调查局的河流科学》(NRC, 2007)和《水文科 学的挑战和机遇》(NRC, 2012). 我们认为, 流域科学兼备地球系统科学基础研 究和区域可持续发展应用研究的特性. 从地球系统 科学基础研究的角度看, 流域科学的目标是理解和 预测流域复杂系统的行为, 其研究方法可以被看作 是地球系统科学的研究方法在流域尺度上的具体体 现; 而从流域综合管理的应用角度看, 流域科学关注 流域尺度上人和自然环境的相互作用, 因此它也是 通过对自然资源和人类活动的优化配置而为可持续 发展服务的应用科学. 1 流域科学的研究方法 1.1 系统科学 流域科学的研究方法就是地球系统科学的研究 方法: 这是一种以整体观(Holistic perception)为统领, 兼顾整体论(holism)和还原论(reductionism)的研究方 法. Schellnhuber(1999)指出, 地球系统的整体研究方 法可概括为: (1) “鸟瞰原则”(the ‘bird’s-eye’ principle), 即在 地球之外看地球. 地球观测系统50多年来的斐然成 就使得从整体上观察地球变成现实. 具体到流域尺 度上, 建立精细的、实时的、遥感与地面观测一体化 的流域观测系统已经有不少实例可循. (2) “ 数字仿真原则 ”(the digital-mimicry prin- ciple), 即发展地球系统模型. 模型对高度复杂的地 球系统的仿真能力被誉为第二次哥白尼革命. 在流 域尺度上, 发展流域集成模型已经蔚然成风. (3) “小人国原则”(the ‘Lilliput’ principle), 即利 用实体模型仿真开展复杂系统的控制实验, 典型 的例子是生物圈2号. 生物圈2号是一个封闭的生态 系统, 与之相比, 我们认为, 流域作为一个相对可控 的半封闭半开放系统, 也是地球系统科学研究的“小 人国”. 然而, 整体论更多代表的是对地球系统科学的 原则性的哲学思考. 就流域科学而言, 流域在本体论 上都被当做一个整体, 这点并无疑问, 但在具体的建 模、观测等科学实践中, 还原论依然是主导的研究方 法(Bergandi和Blandin, 1998). 如何搭起整体和还原 方法之间的桥梁, 正是以下几个小节(1.2~1.6)要讨论 的主要内容. 1.2 复杂系统 正如爱默生所言, “自然错综复杂、层层交叠、相 互交织、而又无穷无尽”1). 流域就是这样一个复杂巨 系统(钱学森, 1991). 复杂性首先表现为“大”, 以一个 1) Ralph Waldo Emerson. 1860. Nature is intricate, overlapped, interweaved, and endless. Fate. 中国科学: 地球科学 2015 年 第 45 卷 第 6 期 813 面积以105 km2的流域为例, 如果流域模拟的空间分 辨率仅仅以1 km计, 每一个响应单元上(可被看做一 个子系统)的模型状态变量、生态和水文通量及参数 可能多达100个, 则整个系统的自由度可达107, 和用 于全球尺度的一般环流模型的自由度相当. 其次表 现为“长”, 重演流域的过去, 预测其未来, 都需要很 长的时间跨度. 其三表现为所涉及要素之“多”和它 们之间复杂的相互作用, “水-土-气-生-人”(Cheng等, 2014)只是一个高度概括, 但每一个要素中都包含了 大量具体要素, 它们之间并且和系统外的有关要素 之间密密交织、环环相扣, 而人类活动更增加了其复 杂性. 其四表现为不确定性, 在流域尺度上, 异质性 被放大, 一些在全球尺度模型中被忽略、简化的过程, 在流域尺度上却凸显出来, 异质性和由此而带来的 不确定性(李新, 2013)成为空前的挑战. 流域系统极为复杂, 但同时又表现出一定的自 组织特征(Dooge, 1986; Sivapalan, 2005), 例如: 不仅 流域的地貌、植被、水系表现出不同尺度上的自相似 性; 而且土壤水分、蒸散发和地下水埋深等水文变量 也展现出自组织的特点(Rodríguez-Iturbe和Rinaldo, 2001; Solé和Bascompte, 2006). 此外, 具有相似气候- 水文特点的不同流域也在水文功能上表现出相似性 (Wagener等, 2007). 因此, 流域又被称为具有一定自 组织特征的复杂系统(Sivapalan, 2005). 流域的自组织特征给模拟流域系统行为带来了 新的契机, 目前, 分形等自组织复杂系统方法已经在 流域结构分析、地貌演化等方面取得了一定的成功 (Rodriguez-Iturbe等, 2011; Perron等, 2012). 然而, 在 水文预报和生态系统动态模拟中, 自组织复杂系统 方法的应用却还乏善可陈. 由于自组织复杂系统既 在其各个单元上表现出随机和无序, 又在整体上表 现为有序和一定的确定性, 汲取统计物理学思路, 采 用确定和随机动力学结合的方法, 可能是模拟自组 织复杂系统行为的一个途径. 1.3 尺度问题 流域在空间和时间尺度上的跨度都非常大: 就 水文过程的空间尺度而言, 从水分子、单点、坡面、 汇水区、子流域、流域, 空间跨度可达1015量级; 就 生态过程的空间尺度而言, 从DNA、细胞、叶片、群 落、直到生态系统, 跨度也从分子尺度到成千上万平 方千米. 在时间尺度上, 从极为快速的生物化学过 程, 到以分钟、小时计的降雨-径流和土壤水文过程, 再到天、季节、年尺度的植物生长, 直到十年、百年 计的群落演替, 乃至到百年至万年尺度的土壤风化、 地貌演变等过程. 所有这些跨度极大的空间和时间 过程互相交织在一起, 共同塑造出错综复杂、色彩斑 斓的流域行为. 然而, 现有的流域水文和生态理论, 多是在均值 假设的前提上发展起来的, 如何将其上推至具有高 度异质性、以非线性过程为主导的流域尺度上, 一直 是一个困扰流域科学研究的基础问题(Dooge, 1986; NRC, 1991). 目前, 在流域水文研究中, 解决升尺度问题主要 采用以下途径: (1) 用微观模型代替宏观模型, 但采 用等效(effective或equivalent)参数作为模型的输入, 因此从微观到宏观的差异都被归结到依赖于尺度的 参数中; (2) 重新定义宏观模型, 认为微观和宏观上 由不同的物理规律主导, 因此撇开微观尺度上经典 的物理规律, 在汇水区、流域等宏观尺度上, 基于水 量平衡和能量平衡, 借助统计方法直接建立宏观尺 度上的半物理半经验的模型, 典型者如Budyko假说 及其各种应用(Budyko, 1974; Yang等, 2007). 在这类 模型中, 输入往往是流域的宏观特征, 如径流、时间 和空间平均的气候与水文变量与通量、平均的地貌特 征、植被分布的统计特征等; (3) 使用统计力学方法, 也就是承认微观物理规律是正确的, 同时把宏观对 象看作是由大量的一个个确定的、尺度不变(scale- invariant)的微观动力系统组成的随机系综(ensemble). 基于这种认识, 升尺度问题成为一个动力-统计问题, 因而可以采用统计力学方法来处理. 在水文领域常 用的集合平均和集合预报方法, 正是根源于此. 目前, 升尺度方法个例研究较多, 但还鲜见提出 一般性的理论, 而升尺度方法本身也难以验证, 这也 和缺乏真正的多尺度观测有关(Vereecken等, 2007). 近年来, 多尺度观测的迅速开展为验证和发展尺度 上推方法提供了新的契机. 1.4 牛 顿 学 说 与 达 尔 文 学 说 (Newtonism vs. Darwinism) 流域科学在自然科学层面的两个主要学科来 源——水文学和生态学具有迥然不同的研究传统. 水文学体现了牛顿学说(Newtonism)的传统, 其骨架 是以连续方程和能量、质量、动量平衡方程为基础的 程国栋等: 流域科学及其集成研究方法 814 动 力 学 系 统 ; 生 态 学 则 体 现 了 达 尔 文 学 说 (Dar- winism)的传统, 选择和进化是系统演进的原理, 可 以基于 大熵原理来构建代价函数, 通过进化计算 来模拟系统的演进. 牛顿学说强调普遍性、简约性 和可预报性; 而达尔文学说则强调特质、偶然性和自 组织. 几十年来的流域科学实践表明, 流域既有受控 于水循环、能量平衡等基本规律的共性, 同时也的确 表现出鲜明的个性, 因此, 有了流域科学—甚至陆 地表层系统科学是不是依赖于地域的科学(science of place)的质疑. 那么, 到底是普遍性还是个性起主导 作用呢? 牛顿学说和达尔文学说的研究方法真的是 完全冲突的吗?在共性和个性之间是否有调和的余 地? 目前, 牛顿学说主导下的研究方法在流域科学 研究中占有支配地位. 突出表现在: 绝大多数生态和 水文模型的框架都是牛顿式的, 这些模型用以牛顿 力学为基础的控制方程来描述各种过程, 模型越来 越复杂, 参数越来越多, 甚至出现了甚高分辨率模拟 的趋势(Beven等, 2015), 但传统的模型思路并没有取 得完全成功, 反而受困于过度复杂、过参数化、异参 同效、不确定性难以估计、搠源和控制等方面的困扰 (Harte, 2002). 达尔文学说的研究方法近些年来则在流域科学 研究中越来越受到关注. 流域的异质性尽管看似无 穷无尽, 但正如1.2节所述, 大大小小的流域都表现 出自组织特征, 具有各种各样的自相似性. 那么, 自 组织、自相似背后的控制因素是什么呢? 很可能就是 达尔文学说所倡导的选择和进化原理. 因此, 20世纪 80年代以来, 水文科学的先行者, 以及生态水文科学 发轫之处的奠基者, 都提出了这样的想法—“新的 水文学理论”、“水文学自身的定律”、“宏观尺度下的 定律”(Dooge, 1986; Sivapalan, 2005), 并开展了不懈 的探索. 然而, 总体上, 该方面科学实践的步伐还落 后于超前的思想, 对于流域自组织自相似的研究主 要还停留在格局描述, 还没有变成可操作、可预报的 方法. 目前, 我们还没有看到一个水文学模型是完全 建立在系统进化原理的基础上的, 但所幸的是, 在生 物地理学和生态系统演进模拟方面却已看到了一线 成功的曙光(例如, Phillips等, 2006). 我们认为, 流域科学不应该是依赖于地域的科 学, 流域科学需要普遍性的理论. 只有依赖普遍性的 理论, 我们才能够将一个流域的科学实践推广到另 一个流域, 更能推广到地球表层系统科学中. 而要实 现这一目标, 就需要结合牛顿学说和达尔文学说, 从 水文学和生态学的不同视角来看流域, 在方法上综 合动力学和进化思想(Harte, 2002). 目前, 由于两种 学说在哲学传统和操作实践上都有很大的差别, 还 很少见到真正融合了两种学说的工作(King和Caylor, 2012). 但牛顿学说和达尔文学说的结合是流域科学 方法论探索的重要方向, 也是地球系统科学研究方 法可以寄予重望之处(Eagleson, 2002; Harte, 2002). 1.5 水经济和生态经济研究方法 目前, 流域科学研究中对人的因素的研究主要 集中在经济学方面 , 相关研究主要从水文 - 经济 (Harou等, 2009)、生态-经济(Costanza等, 2007)和水资 源-经济(Cai, 2008)这三个学科的发展中汲取营养. 它们的侧重点不同, 但又有共同的渊源, 都研究经 济活动和自然系统之间共同演进和相互依存的关 系, 都强调社会经济行为是自然生态系统不可缺少 的组成部分并会重塑整个系统, 都以可持续发展为 落脚点. 和对自然系统的研究方法类似, 对流域经济系 统的研究中也大量采用模型方法. 目前, 流域经济模 型和生态水文模型的结合还不够紧密. 流域管理研 究中常有的方法是: 基于静态情景方法模拟社会经 济对水文和生态过程的影响, 这一方式虽然考虑了 人-自然关系, 但未建立从自然系统到社会经济系统 的动态反馈回路, 缺少二者之间的协同演进. 新兴的 社会水文学(Sivapalan等, 2012)观点认为, 应该将经 济和社会因素作为模型的内生变量, 发展人-自然相 互作用的动力学方法, 显式地考虑水-生态-经济系统 的协同演进. 此外, 生态系统服务的估价问题是经济 模型和生态水文模型结合的另一个难点, 自然模型 关心的重点是生态和水文系统中的物质和能量循环, 经济模型则 终都要为物质和能量流定价. 然而, 对 生态系统服务的估价目前还被认为是‘‘有瑕疵的艺 术”(Harou等, 2009), 不同的估价方法, 计算得到的 生态系统服务价值量可能相差数倍. 但无论如何, 生 态经济和水经济研究中, 关于自然资本无可取代, 强 调公义和平等, 以及对长期可持续发展的重视, 都为 流域管理和可持续发展研究注入了充满活力的新要 素, 成为流域科学研究不可缺少的方面. 中国科学: 地球科学 2015 年 第 45 卷 第 6 期 815 1.6 综合集成(Meta-Synthesis) 水文、生态、经济是流域科学集成研究的三大主 要要素, 这三个领域的研究方法都由定量方法主导. 然而, 除了这三个要素之外, 在流域科学—特别是 流域综合管理中, 还必须考虑政治、法律、政策、文 化、宗教、习惯、风俗、行为和心理等社会要素, 这 些社会要素及其建模都非常难以定量化. 如果我们 将可以用数学方程描述, 并采用定量方法解决的问 题称为结构化(structured)问题, 那么, 后一类与社会 要素有关, 难以定量、难以形式化的问题则常常被称 为非结构化(unstructured)、病态结构化(ill-structured) 或奇异(wicked)问题. 对于这类问题, 显然需要寻找 新的解决途径. 过去几十年来, 为了应对复杂的非结构化问题, 称为综合集成(meta-synthesis)或者软系统方法论(soft systems methodology)的一系列方法涌现出来, 典型 者如钱学森先生所倡导的“从定性到定量的综合集成 方法论”及其具体操作方法“综合集成研讨厅”(钱学 森等, 1990). 这一方法论的核心思想是计算机和专家 共同参与的从定性到定量的分析, 经过10多年的发 展, 它已经逐渐成熟, 并成为一种可操作的方法论. “综合集成研讨厅”由专家体系、知识体系、机器体系 三大部分组成, 它汇集了专家智慧、多源的数据和信 息、各种计算机模型和计算机的高速计算能力, “把各 种学科的科学理论和人的经验知识结合起来”(钱学 森等, 1990), 形成了一个巨大的智能系统. 我们认为, “综合集成研讨厅”的操作流程是一种把整体论和还 原论结合起来的方法, 可概括为: 第一步, 从宏观定 性认识出发, 由人提出议题(指难以明确定义的问题) 以及对议题的假设和想定, 这一过程强调对议题整 体上的定性认识. 第二步, 在研讨厅中, 依靠计算机 协同工具的支持, 汇集来自于不同专家的观点和知 识(定性为主), 同时依靠计算机收集和分析存储在网 络上各种数据库中的数据和信息, 在收集到足够的 数据、信息和知识之后, 采用决策方法对它们进行筛 选、整理和形式化, 在此基础上, 形成概念模型. 整 个第二步中, 人机互动以及计算机支持下的人-人互 动非常关键, 它们交叉或者同步进行. 第三步, 建立 计算机模型, 包括机理模型、数据驱动的模型、推理 模型等, 运行模型以提供定量信息. 第四步, 在研讨 厅中, 对模型结果进行计算机辅助的群体讨论, 可能 会重新回到议题, 修正对议题的概念模型, 如此通过 反复的人机互动, 渐进地(recursively)并 终以精密 科学的定量方式为主(即定性到定量), 增加对复杂系 统的认识, 提出对议题的解决方案(钱学森等, 1990; 于景元和周晓纪, 2002; 李耀东等, 2004; Gu和Tang, 2005). 需要指出, “综合集成研讨厅”是一个由人和计算 机共同构成的虚拟环境, 而信息技术的迅猛发展为 “综合集成研讨厅”提供了勃勃生机, 以互联网为基 础的信息搜索、网上百科、电子邮件、即时通讯、社 交网站、博客、微信、网络会议、以及支持集体讨论 和群体思维的群件(groupware)等技术都使得迅即汇 聚集体智慧、融合多种信息成为可能. 此外, 大数据 的挖掘, 语义分析的进步, 也为不仅仅使用因果关 系, 而且依靠通过数据本身展现出来的相关关系来 决策提供了更多的可能性. 对于流域科学而言, “综合集成研讨厅”可被当作 新一代的决策支持系统(DSS)(Tang, 2007), 它是处理 流域综合管理中极为常见的非结构化的问题, 以及 开展群决策的一个理想平台. 2 流域科学的基础建设 流域科学研究方法的繁荣和成熟, 离不开观测 技术和信息技术的强烈驱动. 国外多用流域信息基 础设施(cyber-infrastructure)和e-science等概念来描述 流域科学研究中所需的观测、建模、信息系统等基础 建设, 我们则将流域科学的基础建设概括为3M平台, 即观测(Monitoring)、模型(modeling)和数据分析处理 (manipulating)一体化平台(Cheng等, 2014). 2.1 观测系统 正如地球系统科学研究离不开地球观测系统, 发展流域科学的重要前提之一也是建立流域观测系 统. 卫星和地面观测技术的快速进步, 极大地推进了 流域科学的各个分支的发展, 重塑了这些学科的面 貌. 卫星遥感已经能够观测到主要的水文、生态变量 和通量(NRC, 2008), 并且展现出多尺度、更加专门 (如全球降水计划)、空间和时间分辨率越来越精细的 趋势. 就地面观测而言, 新技术层出不穷, 大的特 点是大量使用传感器网络以及各种足迹尺度观测技 术(如: 宇宙射线土壤水分观测系统、大孔径闪烁仪 程国栋等: 流域科学及其集成研究方法 816 等). 这些新技术为流域观测带来了前所未有的机遇, 并且迅速地演进为流域观测的主流手段, 使得建立 分布式、多尺度、实时控制的流域观测系统成为可能. 过去10年来, 以流域为单元建立分布式的观测 系统蔚然成风. 国际上较为成熟的流域观测系统包 括美国基金委支持的关键带观测平台(CZO, Critical Zone Observatory) 、 欧 洲 的 陆 地 环 境 观 测 平 台 (TERENO, Terrestrial Environmental Observations) (Zacharias等, 2011; Bogena等, 2015)、丹麦水文观测 系统(HOBE, Danish Hydrological Observatory)(Jensen 和Illangasekare, 2011)、加拿大的变化中的寒区的观 测 网 络 (CCRN, Changing Cold Regions Network) (Debeer等, 2015)、中国的黑河流域观测系统(李新等, 2010a; Li等, 2013)等. 这些观测系统的共同特征是: (1) 多变量、多尺度观测; (2) 大量使用传感器网络技 术; (3) 新的观测技术的试验场; (4) 航空遥感作为获 取流域精细DEM等甚高分辨率数据的重要手段; (5) 监测和控制试验并重; (6) 与模型建模目标密切配合; (7) 与信息系统高度集成. 2.2 模型平台 流域科学研究中需要多种多样的模型. 模型既 可能被应用于全流域生态-水文-社会经济集成研究, 也可能被应用于单学科研究; 既可能应用于整个流 域尺度, 也可能应用于汇水区、单点等较小尺度; 既 可能应用于理解流域复杂系统、验证科学假设, 也可 能侧重于在流域综合管理中的应用. 因此, 必须开发 一个模型平台, 来管理不同的模型, 我们把模型平台 定义为“支持集成模型的高效开发、已有模型或模块 的便捷连接、模型管理、数据前处理、参数标定、可 视化的计算机软件平台”(李新等, 2010b). 和模型自 身不同, 模型平台总体上是一个信息技术范畴内的 集成系统, 可采用不同的体系结构和技术方案来开 发侧重点不同的模型平台(南卓铜等, 2011). 我们认为, 从流域科学基础建设的角度, 新一代 模型平台应具有这样一些特征: (1) 平台中既包括地 表水、地下水、陆面过程、冰冻圈、生态过程、植被 生长等自然过程模型, 也应包括土地利用、水资源调 配与管理、经济、政策等社会经济模型; (2) 支持模 型向流域尺度的扩展; (3) 支持从分钟到年、数十年 甚至上万年的时间尺度模拟; (4) 支持数据同化和模 型-观测融合; (5) 集成知识系统, 充分利用非结构化 信息; (6) 集成机器学习技术; (7) 具有在网络环境下 运行的能力, 支持云计算; (8) 具有快速定制决策支 持系统的能力. 2.3 数据平台 狭义的流域信息基础设施主要指流域数据信息 系统, 由此可见数据平台在流域科学中的重要性. 传 统的数据平台的核心功能是数据管理, 但我们认为 流域科学所需的数据平台还必须具备整合大量观测 数据和模型数据, 并生产新的数据的能力(李新等, 2010c). 它支持三个层次的数据集成: (1) 数据库集 成, 主要指对各类空间数据统一建库, 实现对异构数 据的统一访问; (2) 数据内容集成, 即利用多种来源、 多分辨率的数据, 在质量控制的基础中, 整合成为服 务于模型发展、验证和改进的数据集; (3) 数据再分 析, 指应用数据同化等方法, 融合来自于地面观测、 遥感观测、模型输出的多种数据, 产生创新性的新的 数据产品. 大数据时代对流域科学中的数据集成提出了新 的挑战. 目前, 各种数据新技术层出不穷, 但往往更 多从信息技术的角度着眼, 而忽略了数据和模型的 集成. 面对信息时代的数据洪流, 研究人员迫切希望 减轻数据处理的压力, 将更多时间和精力投入到用 数据解决问题而非处理数据. 因此, 我们认为, 流域 科学中数据平台 需要加强的功能是实现无缝、自 动、智能化的数据-模型对接(Koike等, 2015), 为此, 高级别的自动数据质量控制、高层次的数据集成、以 及数据向模型的推送技术都十分关键. 3 黑河流域生态-水文过程集成研究计划 在国内, 黑河流域是一个“水-土-气-生-人”集成 研究的基地(程国栋等, 2008; 程国栋, 2009). 黑河流 域集成研究, 目标就是要探索陆地表层系统科学的 研究方法, 完善陆地表层系统科学的理论; 同时, 发 展以科学模型为骨架的流域水资源综合管理决策支 持系统, 为流域可持续发展找到一个强有力的支持 工具. 这和流域科学的目标无疑是一致的. 与国际上流域科学的发展趋势契合, 2010年, 国 家自然科学基金委员会启动了“黑河流域生态-水文 过程集成研究”重大研究计划(简称“黑河计划”). “黑 河计划”是在已经较有优势的黑河流域集成研究的基 中国科学: 地球科学 2015 年 第 45 卷 第 6 期 817 础上, 将我国流域科学研究推进到国际先进行列的 重大举措, 也将是一次陆地表层系统科学研究方法 的全面实践. “黑河计划”的科学目标是揭示植物个体、群落、 生态系统、景观、流域等尺度的生态-水文过程相互 作用规律, 刻画气候变化和人类活动影响下内陆河 流域生态-水文过程机理, 发展生态-水文过程尺度转 换方法, 建立耦合生态、水文和社会经济的流域集成 模型, 提升对内陆河流域水资源形成及其转化机制 的认知水平和可持续性的调控能力, 使我国流域生 态水文研究进入国际先进行列. 为实现上述科学目 标, 黑河计划将集中多学科的队伍和研究手段, 建立 联结观测、实验、模拟、情景分析以及决策支持等科 学研究各个环节的“以水为中心的过程模拟集成研究 平台”. 计划执行至今, 已建立了系统的生态水文观 测网络与数据平台, 开展了流域综合观测试验; 初步 揭示了流域生态水文过程耦合机理; 构建了流域分 布式生态-水文、地表水-地下水耦合模型(Yao等, 2015; Yang等, 2015), 为黑河流域水资源优化管理奠 定了基础(程国栋等, 2014). 目前, “黑河计划”已全面进入集成研究阶段, 黑 河流域已有的集成研究实践和正在开展的持续探索, 都将为丰富流域科学的方法论做出实质性的贡献. 4 挑战、展望与小结 4.1 挑战 流域科学是流域尺度上的地球系统科学, 它承 继了地球系统科学的认识论和方法论, 同时, 由于流 域是一个相对可控的单元, 尺度适中, 但复杂性和异 质性更加凸显, 因此, 流域科学的实践又独具特色, 可以丰富地球系统科学的理论和方法. 流域科学的 核心在于它是一个宏观科学, 在认识论上, 要将流域 “水-土-气-生-人”作为一个整体, 将多尺度的异质性 作为流域的内在组成部分(Sivapalan, 2005); 在方法 论上, 尝试找到从整体上分析流域的宏观规律和方 法, 但这种方法又不应该流于空谈, 而应该是一种可 操作的整体论加还原论的研究方法. 流域科学的发展, 面临着显著区别于传统流域 水文学、流域生态学的挑战: 第一, 宏观科学的挑战. 水文和生态系统的自组 织特性, 如何影响到流域系统的功能, 并进一步影响 流域的水文、生态等过程, 都和尺度密切联系. 自从 Doogle(1986)提出建立水文学自身的理论以来, 水文 科学的先行者曾乐观地估计尺度问题将在短期内取 得突破, 然而, 在这方面的进展并不显著. 哲学思考 虽然鼓舞人心, 但理论总结鲜见, 实证工作更是非常 少, 仅有的一些实证性案例研究也多缺乏普适性. 如 何寻求理论坚实又有普适性的尺度上推方法? 如何 终建立异质性宏观流域的水文和生态规律? 这些 问题都依然是摆在流域科学发展面前的一个严峻挑 战. 第二, 就是人的因素如何被集成到流域水文学 和流域生态学研究中. 自然系统和社会经济系统是 一个共同演进(co-evolution)的系统, 人类世(Anthro- pocene)以来, 各种人类活动加速度运行, 不可逆的 人类活动, 造成地球系统不再按其既有的韵律运行, 带来大量未知的未知2). 对人-地系统共同演进的认 识、建模、预报、控制和管理, 是流域科学所面临的 另一个重大挑战. 4.2 展望 100年来, 统计力学、控制论、一般系统论、复 杂系统理论等科学革命深刻地影响着今天的地球系 统科学, 各种概念耳熟能详, 已成为地球系统科学的 概念支柱. 然而, 并不是每一种新理论都已经转化成 地球系统科学中可操作的方法, 概念转化到应用的 历程远未完成. 流域科学呼唤自己的方法论, 同时也 可以为地球系统科学方法论的发展做出贡献. 随着复杂系统理论和方法走向成熟, 再加上地 球观测技术和信息技术双重强烈驱动, 我们大胆展 望流域科学的研究方法在未来10年内可望取得突破. 首先, 统计力学方法、自组织复杂系统方法、基 于进化原理的模型的综合应用, 有可能推动尺度问 题取得真正的突破, 建立适用于宏观异质性水文和 生态过程的数学方程. 以这些新的宏观方程为水文 和生态模型的控制方程, 将可能发展出尺度显式 (scale-explicit)和普适性的流域生态水文模型, 模型 2) Ramsfield 矩阵, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/There_are_known_knowns 程国栋等: 流域科学及其集成研究方法 818 的不确定性也将被大大降低. 其次, 将有办法对非结构化的信息和知识进行 集成, 将发展出更通用、有效、操作性更强的综合集 成方法. 该方法将可以再现和预报人-自然协同演进, 并由此把人的因素放在流域科学中, 人将成为流域 科学的标签, 科学认知和科学模型在流域综合管理 中将发挥更加主体的作用(Cai等, 2015). 4.3 小结 本文讨论了流域科学的概念、研究方法和基础建 设, 得到以下结论: (1) 流域是地球系统的缩微, 是陆地表层系统科 学研究的 佳基本单元, 必须把流域内的水、生态、 人类活动当作一个整体来看待. 流域科学在基础科 学层面上是一个宏观科学, 旨在从流域整体上理解 和预测流域复杂系统; 同时, 从应用科学的角度, 流 域科学也是强调人的因素的科学, 是实现水资源和 其他自然及社会资源综合管理, 并 终实现流域可 持续发展的科学基础. (2) 流域科学的研究方法应该是一种新的整体 论(neo-holism). 它是一种在科学实践上可以操作的 整体论, 是兼顾硬集成和软集成方法, 既考虑自然系 统又考虑人的方法. 本文讨论了将会在流域复杂系 统集成研究中发挥主要作用的方法, 包括自组织复 杂系统方法, 统计力学方法主导的升尺度方法, 基于 选择和进化原理、强调偶然性和自组织的达尔文学 说, 注重人-自然协同演进和长期可持续发展的水经 济和生态经济思路, 以及应对非结构化复杂问题的 综合集成方法. 综合应用这些方法, 将不仅可望在流 域科学方法论上取得突破, 也可为陆地表层系统科 学方法论做出贡献. 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work_md4wbp7xnraujiyqryfkjidf44	----	Student Records: The Harvard Experience HARLEY P. HOLDEN T H E PASSAGE OF THE FAMILY EDUCATION RIGHTS AND PRIVACY ACT in 1974, the con- cern and confusion surrounding the Buckley Amendment, and the questionable use of student records by government agencies have made particularly timely the discus- sion of access to and confidentiality of student records. But I will touch upon these important subjects only in passing, leaving to my colleagues their detailed discus- sion. My aim in this paper is largely historical, to show through the experience of one large and old university the research use of student records and the importance of their permanent retention for researchers of the future. The ubiquitous student-folder did not appear upon the Harvard scene until the 1890s. Nevertheless, for the two and one-half centuries previous to that decade, the records of students at Harvard are many and varied. While we cannot produce a detailed record for every student who attended Harvard in the seventeenth century, we can for many. Student records for this period are found among the papers of the university presidents and in the recorded minutes of the Harvard Corporation and Board of Overseers, the two Harvard governing bodies, as well as in surviving diar- ies and commonplace books. Detailed records of student board, room, and other expenses may be found in the records of the steward, butler, and treasurer. A close study of these records will indicate how much (and in some cases what type) food a student ate, how much beer he drank, and how much he was fined for various infrac- tions of the college laws. In the majority of cases, this information can be deter- mined for individuals. Through an overall study of such material, the individual student can be placed within the social and intellectual tenor of his times. By the third decade of the eighteenth century, an organized faculty was formed at Harvard, and their records became another important source of information on stu- dents. As is still the case in some small, private secondary schools, the Harvard faculty of this period discussed students individually, particularly if academic fail- ings or conduct were in question. The results of these discussions appear in the min- utes of the Harvard faculty and are an unbroken record of information about indi- vidual students from the 1720s to the end of the nineteenth century. For the record of the eighteenth century, the District Reports and Disorders Papers are important also. The former consist of the records of how students kept their rooms and who their roommates were, and what repairs were required; the latter concern participa- tion of students in various riots and disruptions. Beginning early in the nineteenth century, student records became more numer- ous and more varied. We have available for different periods such records as absen- ces from recitation, admission books, class rank lists, concentration cards, course lists, disciplinary material, final returns, general exams, grade sheets, language requirement results, parentage cards, prayer cut records (daily chapel attendance The author is curator of the Harvard University Archives. The American Archivist Vol. 39, No. 4 October 1976 461 D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 462 THE AMERICAN ARCHIVIST—October 1976 was compulsory at Harvard until 1886), rank scales, record cards, summons books, and withdrawals. Marking or grading, as we know it, was a nineteenth-century de- velopment. Before that, at least at Harvard, academic grading was a matter of pass or fail. To make academic judgment of a student, the tutor, instructor, or professor relied largely on themes, forensics, and recitations. The issuance of grades at Harvard began in 1827 with the aggregate system. Under this system students received a certain number of points or aggregates for themes, recitations, orations, and other endeavors. The total number of aggregates accumulated during a four-year period determined academic rank within a class. Thus, by looking at the system as a whole, biographers and other researchers can determine the comparative academic achievement of such nineteendi-century Har- vard notables as James Russell Lowell, Oliver Wendell Holmes, and Henry David Thoreau. For the decade between 1876 and 1886, students were marked by a combi- nation of aggregates and percentages. In 1886 came the present letter system of marking. This is not an exhaustive (and I hope not an exhausting) recitation of the stu- dent records available for research at Harvard for the period ending with the nine- teenth century. What I hope to show is that there is a rich body of student records available for researchers at the university and, I am sure, at many of its sister institu- tions. With very few exceptions, these records prior to the 1890s are fully available to competent scholars to use in a great variety of ways. Recently, a biographer sent for my inspection sixty double-spaced typewritten pages of information that he had accumulated on the college career of Henry Adams, A.B. 1858. This information was culled from the great variety of our official student records and from supplementary material in our collections on Harvard professors, student publica- tions, organizations, and biographical class material. One manuscript volume kept by a Harvard undergraduate organization contains a pornographic poem in Henry Adams's unmistakable handwriting. This poem and the other material discovered in the Harvard Archives by the biographer reveal much about the education of Henry Adams that does not appear in his book of that title. We have now come to the dawn of the twentieth century and to the era of the stu- dent folder and student record card. The Harvard University Archives contains approximately six-thousand Hollinger boxes of student folders for the period circa 1890 through 1970, and about one-hundred Hollinger boxes of student grade-cards. Until the 1920s the folders were thin, containing the basic information on the appli- cation form, the secondary school grades, and letters of recommendation. Begin- ning in the 1920s, the amount of information, and its variety and diversity, accumu- lated until, in the 1950s, there gradually emerged a folder of material containing a detailed account of the child and youth from birth to the age of approximately twenty-two. Restricted now? Of course. But, a century from now, a biographer's dream. The content of the Harvard student folders of the past forty years has changed, of course, by administrative whim and by state and federal regulation. The typical Harvard folder over this period, however, contains an application form with date and place of birth; citizenship; father's and mother's names, place of birth, national- ity, education, and occupation; parent's marital status; school attended by appli- cant; extracurricular activities; list of offices held; honors received; teams played on; names of persons recommending applicant; essays on why applicant wants to go to college and why to Harvard; a photograph; and the applicant's autograph. At some periods, an essay on a particularly significant educational experience has been D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 STUDENT RECORDS 463 required as well. Also in the folder are generally found the applicant's secondary- school transcript, a report on health, college semester grade reports, application for house assignment, administrative board reports on academic status, and details of various college encounters and experiences such as probation and leaves of absence. Of particular interest for the scholar are the letters of recommendation and com- ment written by teachers, principals, parents, tutors, and professors. It has long been the custom at Harvard to ask the parents of incoming freshmen for a letter of comment on their son. They reveal much about both the parents and the student. If only we had such letters by John and Susanna Adams about their son John, or from Increase and Maria Mather about their son Cotton, or from Thomas and Lydia Hancock about their nephew John. We do have them, presumably, for the twentieth century John Adams's, Cotton Mathers, and John Hancocks who have gone to Har- vard. Once a student is admitted to Harvard, a folder is created for him and, through his freshman year, is on file in the freshman dean's office. After the freshman year, the folder is transferred to the house (Harvard has a house system for upperclassmen similar to the college system at Oxford and Cambridge) where, generally, he will reside until graduation. It is here that the bulk of the file accumulates. The folders remain in the house after graduation, for the five-year period when professors are called upon most to write letters of recommendation. A number of professors have been particularly talented at writing these letters. Some are masterpieces of insight and prose style. How priceless would be similar letters written by Plato about Aris- totle or by and about other great teacher-student relationships through the ages. Harvard does not claim, to my knowledge, any Platos or Artistotles; but it is obvious that such letters will prove invaluable to those who study and write about such Har- vard men as John F. Kennedy and Henry Kissinger. The student folders containing this important research material are kept strictly confidential. When they are trans- ferred to the archives, five years after the student graduates, the folders are kept in a room with special locks and may be recalled only by the dean of the college or the registrar of the Faculty of Arts and Sciences. The most extensive use of Harvard's student records of the seventeenth and eight- eenth centuries has been made by Samuel Eliot Morison in his extensive and detailed histories of Harvard, and by my predecessor as Harvard archivist, Clifford K. Shipton, in writing volumes 4 through 17 of the series known as Sibley's Harvard Graduates. Besides serving as custodian of the Harvard University Archives and as director of the American Antiquarian Society, C. K. Shipton continued a project begun by Harvard Librarian John Langdon Sibley in the 1850s of gathering together all known information about Harvard graduates and presenting it in the form of compendious biographies. Sibley covered the classes of 1642 through 1689. After Sibley's death, the biographical project languished for half a century. In the 1930s, C. K. Shipton assumed the mantle of Sibley editor. By the time of his death, in December 1973, he had completed work on the members of the Class of 1771. One may wonder at the usefulness of producing a biography of every one of Harvard's graduates; but until the nineteenth century most of the prominent men, particu- larly in New England, who received a college education received it at Harvard or at Yale. In these brief biographies is gathered together all available information about the graduate's writings, his ancestors and descendants, and other matters that may serve as sources for research. Shipton always considered his biographies of obscure graduates more important than biographies of the famous. For gathered here, in these seventeen volumes, is a storehouse of information on the origins, occupations, D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 464 THE AMERICAN ARCHIVIST—October 1976 beliefs, and accomplishments of several thousand educated men of the American colonial period. These volumes have already served as the basis for many studies, sociological as well as historical. On the first two decades of the subjects' lives, most of the detail in them is based on Harvard student records. Harvard student disciplinary records have figured prominently in the Sibley- Shipton biographies. As already mentioned, there is much of this material available in the steward's and butler's records of the seventeenth century and in the faculty records of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Another good source is the disorders papers, recording instances of student insurgence and unrest that have occurred periodically throughout Harvard's history, from rancid butter riots in the seventeenth century to the student political and social unrest of the 1960s and early 1970s. All was recorded at Harvard, much has been preserved. The need for the con- fidential treatment of such material is obvious. None has been released yet concern- ing students of the twentieth century or even the end of the nineteenth, such as some material I came across recently marked "Cases of cheating and lying, 1890-1898." But in the perspective of history, after the elapse of a century or two, does it really injure our sensibilities or prove embarrassing to distant descendants to know that John Hancock, A.B. 1754, while in college, was involved in getting a Negro slave drunk and was degraded four places in rank (but was restored upon humble confes- sion); that Robert Treat Paine, A.B. 1754, forged a paper as a student; that Elbridge Gerry, A.B. 1762, was admonished for negligence in attending college prayers; that Samuel Adams, A.B. 1740, was "fined for drinking prohibited liquors"; or that Henry David Thoreau, A.B. 1837, was admonished for making a noise at prayers? I think not. Such information has certainly added to the interest of the Sibley- Shipton accounts, delighted genealogists, and can aid biographers and other researchers in developing a more complete picture of the man and of the milieu, social customs, and behavior of his era. Harvard student records of the seventeenth through the nineteenth centuries have been used extensively by numerous researchers besides Morison and Shipton. Recent studies have included such subjects as the occupations of fathers and sons, the economic and social background of nineteenth-century Harvard professors who were also Harvard graduates, religious backgrounds of students, parentage and social backgrounds of college athletes, early lives and backgrounds of naval officers, and separate accounts of student disorders at Harvard in the 1760s and 1830s. The last named use, by Robert A. P. McCaughey, about a student rebellion of the 1830s, is significantly entitled: The Usable Past. There are many ways that we can learn from the past through the varied use of student records. What of research use of student records of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the greatest concern in most colleges and universities? As I have mentioned, these records of the student-folder era at Harvard are still considered highly confidential. Nevertheless, qualified researchers with the permission of the literary heirs and the consent of appropriate Harvard officials have made detailed use of Harvard undergraduate and graduate records for biographical, literary, and political studies of such well-known former Harvard students as E.E. Cummings, John Dos Passos, Thomas Wolfe, Theodore Roosevelt, W. E. B. DuBois, Alan Seeger, John Reed, Wallace Stevens, Robert Frost, T. S. Eliot, and Syngman Rhee. Even richer and more nearly complete records exist, presumably, for such more recent Harvard luminaries as Christian A. Herter, John Phillips Marquand, Nor- man Mailer, John Updike, Henry Kissinger, Eliot Richardson, James Gould Coz- zens, and the three Kennedy brothers. When the need for privacy diminishes and D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 STUDENT RECORDS 465 with the consent of the heirs, a rich collection of material lies waiting for the schol- ar. May it be preserved. While those of us who are archivists and historians may realize and appreciate the value of student records for research in the social sciences and the humanities, sim- ilar feelings may not be shared by "hard-nosed" administrators and legislators. To them the problems, both real and imaginary, of confidentiality, and legal and stor- age considerations, may make the retention of these records more bother than they feel the records are worth. Possibly, the great value of student records for medical research, with promised or at least anticipated, immediately useful and tangible results, may help convince them of the necessity for the retention of the materials. A great deal of medical research had been done at Harvard through the use of stu- dent records. Al though medical records at the university, in the form that we usually envision them, go back only about fifty years, there are related records that are nearly a century old. The most important of these were compiled through the efforts of Dudley Allen Sargent, assistant professor of physical training and director of the Hemenway Gymnasium from 1879 through 1919. During that forty year period, Sargent gathered and bound in large folio volumes detailed physical and strength test measurements on all Harvard students. These records, together with records of athletic participation, have provided and will provide in die future source material for medical research. I should also mention that Sargent and his associates took nude photographs of most students. These have been used extensively for the study of body types. I do not, I hope, need to add that these are stored under secure condi- tions with very limited access, at Harvard's Peabody Museum of Archeology and Ethnology. I suppose it could be argued, at least facetiously, that since our scientific community does not hesitate to publish photographs of scantily clad native chiefs from New Guinea or the South American jungles, that community should not hesi- tate to feature photographs in the National Geographic or Natural History Maga- zine of Harvard graduates who became our chiefs of state. Harvard does have a Committee on Research and the Use of Human Subjects that governs the use of student medical records. Information for outside researchers gen- erally is provided only in coded or numbered form. Psychiatric records, which do not come under the jurisdiction of the Harvard Archives, have not been used so far for research. As the chairman of the Committee on Research and the Use of Human Subjects pointed out to me, medical records are much more objective and statistical than psychiatric records. The patient input is much clearer in physical medical rec- ords and less prone to subjective interpretation. With the consent of the students concerned, some investigations have been made to determine whether there is a correlation between those who visit the Harvard Health Services for medical and those who visit for psychiatric reasons. Results are not fully conclusive, but through the use of student records it has been found that those who have psychiatric prob- lems tend to have physical problems as well. Early in this century, Harvard admission records were used for a study of longev- ity. Admission records, from the beginning, have generally included date of birth. The information, combined with the usually accessible death dates, led to useful conclusions on the longevity of one large segment of college educated Americans. The Sargent physical and strength measurement records, as well as later student records, both medical and academic, have been used by Ralph S. Paffenbarger, Albert Damon, and others for studies of chronic disease in former college students, particularly the study of early precursors of fatal coronary heart disease, precursors of suicide in early and middle life, characteristics in youth predisposing to fatal D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 466 THE AMERICAN ARCHIVIST—October 1976 stroke in later years, and characteristics in youth predisposing to hypertension, sui- cide, and accidental death in later life. Some of their conclusions are that high blood pressure, cigarette smoking, and failure to participate in sports predispose toward heart disease and stroke. Early signs of suicide tendency were identified in the stud- ies and brought to the attention of college and university administrators and health officials. Among the conclusions of the researchers were that health educators should be encouraged to mold good health habits among students and to initiate long-term programs formulated to reduce or delay death from coronary disease and stroke. Suggested approaches include weight control, regular physical exercise, and abstinence from cigarette smoking both as students and in later life. Another major study at Harvard, employing both medical and other types of stu- dent records, is The Harvard Study of Adult Development (The Grant Study). For this project, under the current directorship of George E. Vaillant, 268 college sophomores were studied in great depth in 1939-42 and have been followed at roughly two year intervals ever since. These were Harvard students selected for rea- sons of physical and psychological health, and they now comprise a resource that is useful in studying the determinants of healthy adaptation to retirement and to the aging process, as well as the study of the antecedents of mental health and/or mental illness. Another similar study was begun with Harvard students in 1964-65. Other medically oriented studies at Harvard have included equipment design and a comparison of the longevity of Harvard oarsmen with those who did not participate in college sports. The potential value of these student records for future research is incalculable; the benefits for mankind are tremendous. We have considered the historical and medical use of student records, but there is also the legal factor for purposes of social security and other benefit information. Also, during the past decade, with its questioning of established procedures, the university lawyers have frequently called upon the Harvard Archives for back- ground material on procedures a century or two centuries old. A couple of years ago, the university was challenged as to whether it had been and was making proper use of scholarship money left by one William Stoughton, a member of the Class of 1650, who had died in 1701. Through the use of the scholarship records in the archives, which have taken many different forms over the centuries, the law researchers were able to determine, with but few omissions, the identity and place of residence (an important factor in this case) of recipients of Stoughton scholarship aid. Had it been necessary for them to extend their research back a full two and one-half centur- ies to Stoughton's death, I believe they could have, with a few gaps, done so. There were a number of scholarships available at Harvard by the eighteenth century. John Adams benefited from the Hollis scholarship and John Hancock from the Flynt scholarship. We have had it brought to our attention, many times, that seemingly obscure stu- dent records can yield "pay dirt." Until the 1890s, library charging records were reg- ularly maintained and preserved at Harvard. For the nineteenth century, these are in large, bound, folio volumes widi a page for each student for each academic year. By examining these records, scholars can determine what Ralph Waldo Emerson or Henry David Thoreau or Theodore Roosevelt read as students, the volumes and authors who may have helped to shape their thinking at an impressionable age. Possibly, a study of the college reading of Richard Henry Dana and Francis Park- man would reveal that there was more than eye trouble that made the former take leave of absence from college for two years before the mast and the latter hit the Oregon Trail. There is at least a chance that their early college reading as well as D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 STUDENT RECORDS 467 their physical afflictions may have influenced them toward non-academic adven- ture. Several days before I began writing this paper, a member of our staff had the occa- sion to examine one of our most obscure and little-used files, the correspondence for the Sheldon Fellowships for student study abroad. There in the records for the period just prior to the First World War was discovered a cache of T. S. Eliot mate- rial, letters of comment on him by well-known Harvard professors and Eliot's own reports on his study abroad. Close examination of this material, I think, will reveal influences on his early poetry. There may be similar material in this small box of correspondence about Eliot's contemporaries Conrad Aiken and Walter Lipp- mann. We had not had time yet to look. Through more than three centuries of wars, fires, and political and social change, Harvard has been fortunate enough to preserve its records from destruction. We are living now in a period of change and unrest, uncertain even of the moral and ethical character of our government. It is a period when those responsible for the creation and retention of student records question the advisability of saving this material. I am reminded of my visits to numerous Anglican churches and cathedrals in En- gland, where Oliver Cromwell's Roundheads, the English seventeenth-century Red Guards, acting out of political and religious fervor, wreaked havoc with memorials, smashed stained-glass windows, and destroyed other features of artistic and historic merit. These treasures had existed for three centuries before the Roundheads and have existed, in a marred condition, for three centuries since. I urge my fellow archivists and administrators to preserve student records, to act with deliberation and judgment, so that we will not be classed as the archival Roundheads of the twentieth century. New f°rfTb/77 You Are Invited . . . to write for your personal copy of our exciting new catalog. The largest collection of Library/AV equipment, furniture, and supplies in the world. Over 250 new items; almost 13,000 listings in all. An indispensable tool, and it's free to those who can use it! The Highsmith Co., Inc. P.O. 25/3500 Foil Atkinson, Wl 53538 D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.39.4.b82315m 3q3944545 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 
work_mfo5a7jzmbbcdoblofkvyroxiq	----	In Memoriam tions but also for the very nature of American society." Obviously, he supplemented his fine research skills with an effective crystal ball. Bill was also a devoted teacher. He regularly taught courses on the presidency, comparative executive behavior, federalism, state politics, policy analysis, politics and aging, and politics and health policy. He taught both undergraduate and grad- uate students, and he spent a great deal of time outside the classroom guiding his students. He probably supervised more dissertations in the American field than anyone else on the faculty. Bill served for a number of years on the selection committee for state legislative internships. He helped many students, not only at USC, to serve as interns in Sacra- mento, California. In latter years, Bill also encour- aged junior faculty. He was quick to agree to serve on faculty review committees, and he helped a number of younger faculty to achieve promo- tion and tenure. While Bill's research often cen- tered on important government pol- icy and the politically powerful, he was also concerned about the plight of average Americans. He once said in an interview with the media that "All of us should remind ourselves of the importance of ordinary acts of kindliness, like offering to drive an elderly neighbor to a physician or just calling up your 80 year-old grandmother to ask how she's doing. To individually reach out and touch someone among the elderly—by telephone or otherwise—is really as consequential in its own way as any type of collective reform." In short, Bill was an outstanding scholar and teacher. His research on the presidency, in particular, has shed important light on that critical office. He was an exemplary col- league and the moral backbone of our department. His presence, wis- dom, and good humor will be sorely missed. Bill is survived by his wife, Mary, and daughters Linda and Caroline Lammers. Sheldon Kamieniecki University of Southern California Marcella A. MacDonald Marcella A. MacDonald, 57, assis- tant professor of political science at SUNY-Brockport, died at her Brock- port home in November 1997. Mac- Donald had taught at Brockport since 1968, specializing in political theory and women's studies. She was active in faculty governance, includ- ing service as chair of her depart- ment's governance committee, as a Faculty Senator, as a representative to the faculty union, and as a mem- ber of the Women's Studies Board. She was born in Timmins, Ont., and had degrees from the University of Brunswick (B. A.), the University of Melbourne (M.A.), and Yale Uni- versity (Ph.D.). Dr. MacDonald was a bright, witty, compassionate teacher, colleague, and friend. She scorned the traditional formalities of faculty-student relations and culti- vated long-standing friendships with many of her students. William G. Andrews SUNY-Brockport Robert Dale Miewald Robert D. Miewald, professor of political science at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln, died October 18, 1997. Bob was born in Chinook, Montana, May 16, 1938. As a boy, he came to know ranching and farm- ing on the Montana plains. After selling the ranch, the family moved to Enterprise, Oregon, where his father was employed by the Forest Service. Bob graduated from Enter- prise High School in 1956 and from the University of Oregon in 1960. From 1961 to 1963, he served in the U.S. Army. Following military ser- vice, he completed his doctorate in political science at the University of Colorado. Bob began his professional career at California State University, Long Beach, where he was an assistant professor and coordinator of the graduate program in public adminis- tration. In 1971, he joined the fac- ulty of the University of Nebraska, Lincoln as an associate professor. He was promoted to full professor in 1978. At Nebraska, Bob served as chair of the department from 1974 to 1977 and 1988-1990. From 1978, he served as the director of the graduate specialization in policy analysis and program evaluation. Bob was a master teacher, an en- gaging and thoughtful writer, an un- selfish colleague, dear friend, and mentor. A quite and reserved man in most social settings, in the class- room he was a performer. Whether teaching a class of several hundred or a seminar of less than ten, whether first year or graduate stu- dents, Bob made the often dry sub- ject matter of public administration come to life. Courses in personnel administration, budgeting, and man- agement are not the stuff that typi- cally turns students on, but Bob was able to do so. His classes were al- ways full and the students always left with a smile. His style and approach are reflected in his book, Public Ad- ministration: A Critical Perspective. He opens with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, "There are some subjects which have kind of a right to dull treatment. Public administra- tion has always been one of those subjects." With criticism and humor, he could turn the dull into the de- lightful. Bob also reached students because he had something to say. He would walk them through the world of ad- ministration but the journey would not stop with the mechanical and superficial. He dealt with issues at the core. To him, administration and organization were important because they were a way to get things done, but he always cautioned his students to be aware of the dehumanizing potential that lay in the bowels of many an organization. First and foremost, he would remind them, stay committed to your fellow per- son. Bob would often drive home the point, "being in charge is never an excuse for being a bastard." Many a student left his classroom with a greater understanding of ad- ministration. More importantly, many left with a greater understand- ing of the human condition. In spite of his success as a teacher, Bob would not allow him- self to be nominated for a teaching award. No one knows why; Bob didn't share such things. We suspect that for him, turning students on was simply the job and didn't deserve special recognition. 86 PS: Political Science & Politics In Memoriam In addition to his textbook in pub- lic administration, Bob authored two other books: The Bureaucratic State: An Annotated Bibliography, and, with Peter Longo, The Nebraska Constitu- tion: A Reference Guide. He edited and coedited three others. The range and depth of Bob's intellect, his skill in fashioning an argument, his ability to turn a phrase, and his motivation to link public administration to core values are reflected in his essay "On Teaching Public Personnel Adminis- tration: A Weberian Perspective." In it, he calls upon political sci- ence to make its courses more rele- vant to students and asks what could be more relevant than public person- nel administration in as much as most, if not, all of our students will wind up as personnel somewhere. Yet, he points out, one is hard pressed to find in introductory texts more than a discussion of technique when it comes to personnel adminis- tration. But, he asks, will the drive for improved and better technique and their contribution to rational human control engage students. Not likely. He calls for a fresh perspec- tive moving beyond technique. He suggests one provided by Weber. Weber's lesson for the teacher of public personnel administration is to remind students that, no matter how imposing a particular technique may be, he/she has the right to ask "What is this all about?" "In the bluntest terms, if one, in the course of his/her organizational life, runs across a practice which appears to be a rotten trick, then it might very well be just that." Ultimately, the issue is one of meaning. Public per- sonnel administration can help stu- dents grapple with the problem of meaning, in a context where they are likely to find themselves. Bob involved himself in commu- nity affairs, chairing the Charter Re- vision Commission for the City of Lincoln and serving as a consultant to the State Constitutional Revision Commission for the State of Ne- braska. Bob also did more than his share of university and department related service. Bob always seemed available for many of the jobs no one else wanted. He served as liai- son to the library ensuring that the books and journals faculty wanted were purchased by the library, super- vised student interns, chaired the promotion and tenure committee, and yes, did grade appeals. We knew he did a lot. Just how much, we are still finding out. Bob, as we used to joke with him, could have been a contender, a dean, provost, perhaps a president of a college or university. But what he wanted was to teach and do it well. He did. He will be missed by his stu- dents and colleagues. Bob is survived by his lovely wife Erika, daughter Christiana, and son Tom. John Comer University of Nebraska, Lincoln Peter Longo University of Nebraska, Kearney Edward S. T. Su Edward S. T. Su died November 10, 1997, after an extended illness. He was 76 years old. Dr. Su taught political science at Texas A&I Uni- versity (now Texas A&M University- Kingsville) from 1967 until he re- tired as a full professor, in 1989. Su was born in Anhui, China (mainland). He received a law de- gree from National Anhwei Univer- sity in China in 1944. He later emi- grated from China and became a naturalized United States citizen. He earned a bachelor's degree in politi- cal science and criminology from Fresno State College between 1948 and 1950. From 1950-55, he at- tended the University of Illinois, Champaign-Urbana, where he earned two masters degrees (politi- cal science and library science), and began work toward the Ph. D. Su resumed work on the doctorate at Fordham University, in 1958, and was awarded the degree from Fordham, in 1962. His doctorate was in political science with a specializa- tion in international relations. Dr. Su served from 1944-1947 as an instructor: first, at the Central Police University in Nanking, China, and then at National Anhwei Uni- versity. In the U.S., he held positions at Pennsylvania State University (cataloger, 1955-57), Rocky Moun- tain College (assistant professor, po- litical science, 1962-64), Dickinson [North Dakota] State College, 1965- 66, Lake Superior State College (po- litical science professor and library director, 1966-67), and at Texas A&I, 1967-89. At Texas A&I, Su taught United States and Texas government as well as international politics, interna- tional law and organizations, politics of China, politics of the Soviet Union, and the politics of Southeast Asia. His publications, mostly in the 1960s, dealt with various aspects of Sino-Soviet Relations. Dr. Su be- longed to several professional orga- nizations. Besides the American Po- litical Science Association, he held memberships in the American Acad- emy of Political and Social Science, the International Political Science Association, the International Stud- ies Association, and the Association of Asian Studies. Su was listed in a variety of Who's Who publications in the 1970s. Although Dr. Su's personal experi- ence included expropriation of the family business by the Communist government, his perspective on the accomplishments and limitations of the Communist regime was always judicious and well balanced. Su trav- eled extensively in China once this was allowed. After retirement, he worked on a book on contemporary China, but competing demands and ill health prevented him from finish- ing it. He had considerable insight concerning how China could blend a healthy degree of modernization and democratization with retention of important elements of traditional Chinese culture and customs. Dr. Su was a dedicated teacher who encouraged students to take their concerns about international issues beyond the classroom. From 1967 until the mid-1980s, he spon- sored a student organization, the International Relations Club. The club, which sometimes had eighty or more members, sponsored informa- tional forums on a variety of interna- tional topics, often addressing the immediate concerns of international students at the university. Su was a serious and capable scholar, a model of collegiality and dedication in the political science department, and a valued member of the university community. Dr. Su's given name, Guang Ping, means "try to help the poor people." March 1998 87 
work_mgzuw2ydebamdcay2ymld453xe	----	Emancipating Pragmatism: Emerson, Jazz, and Experimental Writing (review) Emancipating Pragmatism: Emerson, Jazz, and Experimental Writing (review) William J. Harris William Carlos Williams Review, Volume 26, Number 1, Spring 2006, pp. 104-107 (Review) Published by Penn State University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] https://doi.org/10.1353/wcw.2007.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/216544 https://doi.org/10.1353/wcw.2007.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/216544 ing a distinctly different selection of Williams’s work, however, Pinsky may suc- ceed in compelling at least some readers to view the poet’s oeuvre with a fresh eye. Emancipating Pragmatism: Emerson, Jazz, and Experimental Writing. Michael Magee. Tuscaloosa: The University of Alabama Press, 2004. 247 pp. $55.00 (cloth), $27.50 (paper). W I L L I A M J . H A R R I S University of Kansas Emancipating Pragmatism is both an exciting and frustrating book. Since Michael Magee’s prose is sometimes strategically evasive, it is sometimes hard to decipher. Moreover, the book is thesis- ridden (which is strange consider- ing its literary ancestor) and repetitious—the same quotations keep reappearing. Yet the spiritual and cultural ancestor of this book, nineteenth- century thinker Ralph Waldo Emerson, is equally as exciting and frustrating, at least Magee’s ver- sion of him. It is a serious book, boldly showing the influence of Emerson on at first seemingly unlikely places—from jazz to William Carlos Williams, to African American culture, to the New American Poetry of the late 1950s and 1960s, to contemporary experimental writing. And this book, perhaps, makes this reviewer a little less literal- minded. Following the pragmatist John Dewey, Magee sees lit- erary criticism as “a form of desire, of effort as action” (1) instead of seeing it more traditionally as a tool for more or less straightforward investigation into history and text. Magee, who teaches at the Rhode Island School of Design in Providence, starts with an inspiring re- envisioning of Emerson, an Emerson who comes from recent work of such scholars as Len Gougeon and Joel Myerson, which is prima- rily based on the 1964 rediscovery in the Library of Congress of Emerson’s lost antislavery “WO Liberty” notebook. This notebook counters the standard and persistent image of Emerson as someone who was reluctantly pushed into aboli- tionist activity (54), by showing him as a fiery abolitionist (2). In fact, Magee argues that Emerson became a pragmatist, a man who believes in a philosophy of action, through his commitment to abolition (89). In great detail Magee presents Emerson’s fascinating and influential theory of language since it is the theoretical bedrock of the book. This study demonstrates that Emerson’s ideas about language will be employed by a variety of American writers from Gertrude Stein and William Carlos Williams to contemporary experi- 104 William Carlos Williams Review mental poets such as Susan Howe and Harryette Mullen, and to Magee himself. First, there is Emerson’s symbolic activism which engages in re- reading and re- visioning American cultural symbols (8). Then there is Emerson’s radical idea of language: “In order to de- authorize his texts,” Magee states, “Emerson needed to adopt an extremely fluid sense of both language and selfhood . . . there is then creative reading as well as creative writing.” As Emerson said, “You only read to start your own team” (61). Magee feels that Emerson employs language in the way the pragmatist William James will later call “the re- instatement of the vague.” Magee defines this term as “a linguistic tactic, a mediation of the definitive nature of ‘grammatical scheme’ designed to make signification flexible” (95). We are also introduced to Emerson’s provocative theory of reading, where the reader glances at passages randomly rather than reading sequentially, or as Emerson suc- cinctly puts it: “The glance reveals what the gaze obscures” (68), allowing the reader to more or less disregard the author’s meaning for his or her own. How- ever, perhaps glancing does save us from total solipsism since the glance does connect the reader to the text, the world, albeit momentarily; that is, the reader is not making up the world out of whole cloth. Yet I wonder if a critic can be a rigor- ous historicist—Magee claims he wants to be—and also a practitioner of this mode of reading? For our purposes, Magee’s discussion of the Emerson American vernacular is the most significant since its plays into the creation of American poetry (and prose)—the turning of English into American. Magee suggests that Emerson believed the American vernacular is a product of “every race and skin, white, red men, yellow men, black men” (9). I say he suggests this because he never gives the reader enough information to know what Emerson is actually saying; a point which Magee could say isn’t important because it “starts your own team.” What does seem true is that Emerson does see that the American language embodies American values against aristocratic ones. We see this clearly when he shows the class basis of the conservative Scottish historian Thomas Carlyle’s prose (79) and when he brilliantly attacks the American “patriots,” Edward Everett’s and Daniel Webster’s defense of the Fugitive Slave Act of 1850 which is “in the service of the sentences of Southern judges” (6). Emerson wanted the American language to be an instrument dedicated to the defense of the common people, including slaves. Magee makes a strong case, with more evidence this time, for the influence of pragmatism on William Carlos Williams. He observes that “Williams was encour- aged by these pragmatists [Emerson, William James, John Dewey, and Kenneth Burke] to pay special attention to the American vernacular, which he, too, believed was ‘the basic symbolic agency through which the British colonials 105Book Reviews gradually transformed themselves into Americans’” (28). The influence of prag- matism rings absolutely true here. Magee does not fully buy Brian Bremen’s characterization of Williams’s poet- ics as including “the voices that other writers either omit, repress, or seek to silence” (35). He believes that Williams could include the white working class in his writing, but could not include African American speech. He says: “Race is a roadblock for Williams, though he knows enough to keep bumping up against it” (28). In short, Williams silences African Americans. He cannot imagine black speech because he cannot imagine an African American culture. Magee remarks, “Each [black] speech act . . . grows ‘original’ from a romanticized void” (37). This seems to me that he is being too hard on Williams, bringing contemporary liberal values to an earlier period. That Williams could empathize with poor whites and not blacks says more about Williams’s times than it says about him. In this country when did white artists start seeing blacks as human beings? Think of the carica- tures created by such famous Americans writers as Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Mailer, Bellow, and Tom Wolfe. Ralph Ellison is the true intellectual hero of this book. Ellison, without the aid of the new scholarship, somehow got the story right; that is, Emerson was both a pragmatist and abolitionist (98). Magee claims Ellison gained this knowledge from reading Emerson’s antislavery lectures in Miscellanies (210). Moreover, Magee believes that Ellison brings the idea of race to pragmatism (22). Magee finds Dewey’s idea of democracy lacking because it does not admit “race or ethnicity as a category relevant to the expansion of democratic designs” (21). Is the impli- cation here that Emerson is more radical than his descendants since he could think about race? Following Emerson, Ellison’s idea of the American language is racial and international. He states: “The American language, this rich, marvelous, relatively unexplored organ, is the creation of many, many people, and it began with the Indian. . . . We forget that our language is such a flexible instrument because it has had so many dissonances thrown into it—from Africa, from Mex- ico, from Spain, from, God knows, everywhere”(24). The chapter on the New American poets of the late 1950s and early 1960s, “Tribes of New York: Frank O’Hara, Amiri Baraka, and the Poetics of the Five Spot,” is really about O’Hara and Baraka as simply background, not central char- acters. Talk about silencing blacks! Magee reads O’Hara as a pragmatist, but offers little evidence. He sees pragmatists everywhere. The one person of this group who actually does seem like a pragmatist is poet Paul Goodman. Magee is also convincing that Black Mountain College, a fortress of the New American poetry, was strongly influenced by pragmatism (173). Yet in his desire to find 106 William Carlos Williams Review pragmatism everywhere, he misreads Baraka’s “Three Modes of History and Cul- ture” by thinking the poem refers to John Dewey instead of Thomas Dewey, the American politician (173, 174). This misreading lets him think the poem is about pragmatism. (In a note he says a critic tries to suggest that Baraka is discussing Thomas Dewey, but this note does not influence his argument.) However, he rightfully shows the democratic use of chatter in O’Hara; chatter “blurs the dis- tinctions between high and low speech by designating all speech as fundamen- tally colloquial,” a democratic use, extending from Emerson to Williams to O’Hara to Baraka (139–40). He shows that O’Hara does develop an aesthetic that was analogous to jazz (184). In fact, throughout the book, he has many percep- tive things to say about jazz, but I do not have the space here to talk about them. Following John Dewey, Paul Goodman says “poetic speech [is] a physical thing, a direct action on the audience” (134). If Magee had paid a little more attention to Baraka, he would have noticed that this pragmatic definition of poetry applies to Baraka’s work—especially the notorious 1966 black nationalist poem “Black Art,” where he observes: “We want ‘poems that kill.’” Furthermore, in the same poem he implies that poems should be “useful.” I think Baraka, through the New American Poetry, has been influenced by pragmatism. Over- stated or not, this indicates that there is much to Magee’s argument about the importance of this American philosophy. Although at times I find his study a little too open- ended, too Emersonian, at other times, I find it filled with insights, engaging and very smart. Beyond learning a great deal about modern figures such as Williams, Ellison, and O’Hara from reading this book, I have gained a much better understanding of both Emerson and pragmatism and their importance to American literature and culture. Michael Magee is an American Scholar, a “Man Thinking.” 107Book Reviews 
work_mjckw75q6vgufcuwzgo2glqgua	----	From the Dreadnought to Scapa Flow Tfce Royal Navy in the Fisher Era, 1904-1919 Volume 111: Jutland and After By ARTHUR J. MARDER, University of California at Irvine. Professor Marder brings depth to his examination of the plans for the battle of Jutland and the maneuvers of the battle through his use of unpublished and restricted material. He assesses the effects of the events of the battle on public and official thinking, the way in which the battle was the test of years of planning by Fisher, Churchill, and others, and traces developments to December, 1916. One further volume will complete the work. 9 plates, 16 charts. $11.20 Newcastle-Upon-Tyne and the Puritan Revolution A Study of the Civil War in North England By ROGER HOWELL, JR., Bowdoin College. Based extensively on local records, this book presents a detailed picture of Newcastle-upon-Tyne and the surrounding areas during the course of the Puritan Revolution. The back- ground of opposition in the town is studied thoroughly from the beginnings of the seventeenth century. The author argues that local circumstances had the greatest effect upon loyalties, and that the town was, despite its reputation as a royalist stronghold, uncommitted to any side. $10.10 The Complete Letters of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Volume U: 1721-1751 Edited by ROBERT HALSBAND, Columbia University. This second volume of Lady Mary's complete letters contains two important correspondences never before published. The first set of these, to Francesco Algarotti, reveals her infatuation with this young man, and explains why she spent virtually all of the rest of her life abroad. Also included are letters from Lord Hervey, Lady Mary's rival for Algarotti's affections. The other new correspondence is that with Madame Michiel, a Venetian lady who was one of Lady Mary's close friends. In reviewing the first volume, the Johnsonian News Letter said: "The work seems to us a model of the way these wonderful letters . . . should be presented." 8 plates. $13.45 Canterbury under the Angevin Kings By WILLIAM URRY. The author investigates the history of the early English borough, Canterbury. He discusses various aspects of the borough during the period of the Angevin Kings, including accounts of the holders of land in Canterbury, borough government, the monks and their servants in relation to the citizens, trades and occupations, and a detailed description of the borough's topography. Map. $16.80 Oxford University Press / New York terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core Chichester Towers by L. P. Curtis Intrigue, humor, and illuminating insights into the social structure of eighteenth-century England are entwined in this engaging work of historical craftsmanship. The story illustrates what used to be known as the alliance between church and state; and it suggests the degree to which ecclesiastical politics were subordinated to the secular needs of the state. $5.00 The Pilgrim's Progress and Traditions in Puritan Meditation by U. Milo Kaufman This reexamination of Bunyan's masterpiece argues that the work is much more than religious allegory, that its use of the materials of authoritarian faith bears witness to the intellectual unsettledness of an age much like our own. $6.50 Poems on Affairs of State Augustan Satirical Verse, 1660-1714: Volume 3: 7682-7685 edited by Howard H. Schless Comment on every major event of the final years of Charles M's reign is included in this volume of the authoritative Yale Edition. Johnson on Shakespeare $ 1 7 5° The Yale Edition of the Works of Samuel Johnson Volumes VII and VIII edited by Arthur Sherbo, with an Introduction by Bertrand Bronson Of special interest in this first accurate text of an important segment of the Johnson canon are the notes of his first and revised editions of Shakespeare, the Preface and General Observations, the Miscel- laneous Observations on the Tragedy of Macbeth, the Preface to Mrs. Lennox's Shakespear Illustrated, and the Proposals for an edition. the set, $25.00 Proceedings in Parliament 1610 Volume 7.- The House of Lords; Volume 2: The House of Commons edited by Elizabeth Read Poster Edited together, proceedings of both Houses give an unusual picture of the Parliament of 1610 as a whole, telling the story of the Great Contract, filling out the constitutional debate on the legality of im- positions, and adding to existing biographies. the set, $17.50 YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS SSjjm NEW HAVEN AND LONDON Canadian orders: McGill University Press terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core Spenser's Image of Nature by Donald Cheney Demonstrating that pastoral motifs are used throughout The Faerie Queene as a counterpoint to the epic program, Mr. Cheney sees Spenser's presentation of Nature as more than an image of man's physical environment before it is shaped by divine grace or human art, and shows how the poem derives its unity and intelligibility from the figure of the poet striving through his art to create meaning. $6.50 Coleridge and the Idea of the Modern State by David P. Calleo At once a nationalist, a conservative, and a radical reformer, Samuel Coleridge developed an extraordinarily comprehensive and sug- gestive theory of the modern constitutional state. Here his political ideas are examined in relation to his general philosophy, his Romantic world-view, and his psychological insights. $5.00 The Search for Environment The Garden City: Before and After by Walter L. Creese The industrial revolution forced man to adapt his environment; the English adaptations, both admirable and appaling, form the subject of this pioneering study. Mr. Creese describes the evolution of the Garden City and suburb, concentrating on the relationship of its chief architects, Park and Unwin, to other planners and social phil- osophers connected with the movement. $15.00 Complete Prose Works of John Milton Volume IV: 1650-1655 edited by Don M. Wolfe Volume IV of this distinguished series contains A Defence of the English People, Second Defence of the English People, Defence of Himself, Private Correspondence, and Phillips' Responsio. New Yale Paperbounds 2 volume set $1750 The Poems of Alexander Pope A Reduced Version of the Twickenham Text edited by John Butt $3.45 The Paradise Within Studies in Vaughan, Traherne, and Milton by Louis L. Martz $1,45 The Rhythm of Beowulf by John Collins Pope $2.45 YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS • * « * NEW HAVEN AND LONDON Canadian orders: McGill University Press terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Quarterly Published by Authority of the General Convention HISTORICAL MAGAZINE OF THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH U.S.A. $1.50 the Copy — $6.00 the Year A journal of the historical narrative, bibliography, docu- ments and interpretation in the field of the Protestant Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. Order from: BOX 2247, AUSTIN, TEXAS 78767 THE HISTORICAL JOURNAL Editor: F. H. HINSLEY Contents of Volume IX, No. 2, 1966 ARTICLES: I. Filmer's Patriarchal History. By W. H. Greenleaf. II. The Establishment of 'Europe' as a Political Expression. By H. D. Schmidt. III. The Loyalist Association Movement of 1792-93 and British Public Opinion. By Donald E. Ginter. IV. Gladstone and the Composition of the Final Court in Eccle- siastical Causes, 1850-73. By M. D. Stephen. V. Moltke-Conrad: Relations between the Austro-Hungarian and German General Staffs, 1909-14. By Norman Stone. REVIEW ARTICLES: 1. An Anatomy of the American Whig. By J. R. Pole. 2. Professor Cobban and his Critic. By Betty Behrens. OTHER REVIEWS Subscription price per volume of 3 parts $7.00 Copies may be ordered from your bookseller or from CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 32 East 57th Street, New York, N. Y. 10022 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core Books of Lasting Interest to You The British Imperial Experience Robert A. Hultenback A selective analysis of the events, persons, and con- cepts that have altered the character of the British Empire and influenced its governing philosophy. No attempt is made to give an all-encompassing chrono- logical account. The changing face of both the De- pendent Empire and the Empire of Settlement, the scramble for Africa, and the evolution of the imperial organization from Empire to Commonwealth are ex- amined. The book concludes with an intellectual consideration of imperialism: Was there a viable philosophy dedicated to the betterment of man, or merely a manifestation of national ego? Was there, indeed, any substance to the "imperial idea"? 225 pages, paper, $4.00 Twentieth-Century Britain, Second Edition Alfred F. Havighurst A comprehensive, integrated survey of the social, economic, intellectual, political, and diplomatic history of England from 1900 to 1965. Material on the period from 1961 to 1965 has been fully amended. Perspective gained through inclusion of material re- lating to the late nineteenth century. Incorporates many quotations from contemporary material. 572 pages, $4.00 Society and Politics in England, 1780-1960 A Selection of Readings and Comments John F. C. Harrison A collection of 110 readings from English source material of the period 1780-1960, intended as an introduction to the originals, not as a substitute for them. Some of the extracts are well known, others are from rare, nearly inaccessible sources. Brief intro- ductions to each reading and to each section. 482 pages, paper, $4.25 Harper & Row, Publishers 49 East 33d Street, New York 10016 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE NEWMAN BROTHERS An Essay in Comparative Intellectual Biography By WILLIAM BOBBINS The philosophical ferment of the mid-19th century is nowhere more vividly illustrated than in the divergent careers of Cardinal Newman and his brother Francis. Mr. Robbins' lucid study striking- ly reveals the master currents of the times that carried these symbolical figures in such different directions. Illustrated. $6.00 UNIVERSITIES: BRITISH, INDIAN, AFRICAN A Study in the Ecology of Higher Education By SIR ERIC ASHBY In this book, Sir Eric Ashby, a distinguished former educational advisor to several new African nations, discusses the ecology of universities in non-European societies, the evolution of British policy regarding these institutions, and the develop- ment of academic freedom under both British and African educational systems. $12.95 CHANGING VIEWS ON BRITISH HISTORY Essays on Historical Writing since 1939 Edited by ELIZABETH CHAPIN FVRBER Sponsored by the Conference on British Studies, these essays by distinguished scholars point out significant trends in historical writing. Each of the articles surveys not only what has been written on a particular aspect of British history, but also in- dicates what has not been written, what needs to be done, and what questions should be answered. $9.00 THEIR PROPER SPHERE A Study of the Bronte Sisters as Early- Victorian Female Novelists By INGA-STINA EWBANK What was woman's "proper sphere" in writing, ac- cording to the early Victorians? How far it de- limited the work of the Bronte sisters and, ultimate- ly, what each sister saw as her own proper sphere, are the questions that this critical appreciation of the Brontes' art attempts to answer. $5.95 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE TRIUMPH OF TIME A Study of the Victorian Concepts of Time, History, Progress, and Decadence By JEROME H. BUCKLEY Mr. Buckley's subject is the quite peculiar degree and the emotional intensity with which the Vic- torians responded to the awareness of time. A study of the four levels of temporality — past, present, future, and eternity — as they appear in nineteenth-century English literature, the author frequently glances back to the Romantics and ahead to the early Moderns. Belknap Press. $4.50 ENGLISH TRAITS By RALPH WALDO EMERSON Edited by HOWARD MVMFORD JONES Still unsurpassed as a searching contemporary estimate of England at the very crest of her power in the mid-nineteenth century, this neglected book presents Emerson in the unfamiliar role of a hard- headed Yankee realist impressed by undeniable national greatness. The brilliant introduction by Mr. Jones places the book in its own time and makes clear its present significance. The John Harvard Library. $5.00 JOSEPH CONRAD AND THE FICTION OF AUTOBIOGRAPHY By EDWARD W. SAID Using Conrad's letters for the first time as a key to his mind and art, the author shows that there is an important parallel between the way Conrad saw his own life and the manner and form of his stories. "One of the most complete and satisfactory ac- counts of Conrad's view of things I have seen." — J. Hillis Miller. $4.95 SELECTED PROSE OF JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS Edited by LEONIDAS M. JONES Known primarily as a friend of John Keats, Eeynolds' own achievement as poet, critic, satirist, and essayist has long been neglected. This volume, which includes a biographical sketch and a critical evaluation by the editor, makes a representative selection of Reynolds' essays and reviews available to modern readers for the first time. $12.50 ARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core P A S T A N D P R E S E N T First published 1952. Forthcoming articles in No. 35 (December 1966 issue) will include:— Peter Brunt: The Roman Mob Denis Twitchett: Chinese Social History from the Seventh to the Tenth Century: The Tunhuang Documents and their Implications Elena Lourie: A Society Organized for War: Medieval Spain A. L. Beier: Poor Relief in Warwickshire during the Personal Rule and Interregnum Roy M. MacLoed: Social Policy and the "Floating Population". The Administration of the Canal Boats Acts 1877-1899 A. G. Hopkins: The Lagos Strike of 1897. An Exploration of Nigerian Labour History Recent issues have included — Jerrold E. Seigel: "Civic Humanism" or Ciceronian Rhetoric? (July 1966) D. R. Watson: Educational Reform in France 1900-1940 (July 1966) James Joll: The 1914 Debate Continues (July 1966) Arno J. Mayer: Post-War Nationalisms 1918-1919 (July 1966) M. Malowist: The Western Sudan in the Middle Ages (April 1966) Lawrence Stone and Alan Everitt: Social Mobility in England 1500-1700 (April 1966) Norman Stone: Army and Society in the Habsburg Monarchy 1900-1914 (April 1966) T. W. Mason: Labour in the Third Reich 1933-1939 (April 1966) Annual Subscription 2 5 / - . ($4.25). Single issue 15/-. ($2.50) Reduced Annual Subscription for Students 15/-. ($2.50). All past issues available — Classified Table of Contents free on request. Write: Business Manager, PAST AND PRESENT, Corpus Christi College, Oxford, England terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core Titles of Interest THE ILL-FRAMED KNIGHT A Skeptical Inquiry into the Identity of Sir Thomas Malory. WILLIAM MATTHEWS. Since Kittredge's studies in the 1890's, the author of he Morte Darthur has been identified as an obscure knight of Newbold Revel whose jail career constitutes a paradox with this great classic of chivalry. The Ill-framed Knight is the first attempt in 70 years to challenge the Kittredge attribution. Matthews examines the problem with new evidence and arrives at an attribution to a man never previously mentioned in the matter. "I am en- chanted by the substance of the book: a wonderful piece of research." —H. Trevor-Roper. $6.50 CHARLES IPs ESCAPE FROM WORCESTER Edited by WILLIAM MATTHEWS. In September 1651, Charles Stuart's army was routed by Cromwell's superior forces upon the battlefield of Worcester. For six weeks Charles lay in hiding, a price upon his head until, aided by friends and Royalist sympathizers, he escaped to exile abroad. Nine years later, in May 1660, a company of courtiers and officials set out for the Netherlands to bring Charles back to England: among these was Samuel Pepys. The present edition of documents relating to the most adventurous escape in the history of the English monarchy fulfills Pepy's intention to publish the narratives, which are presented here as they are in Pepy's Boscobel collection, including familiar accounts as well as some never before published. $7.00 THE WORKS OF JOHN DRYDEN, VOLUME IX Plays: The Indian Emperour, Secret Love, Sir Martin Mar-all. Edited by JOHN LOFTIS and VINTON A. DEARING. A definitive edition of three of Dryden's most famous plays. In his commentary to The Indian Emperour, Or, The Conquest of Mexico by the Spaniards, Mr. Loftis examines the back- ground in travel literature and historical fiction for Dryden's account of the Conquest, and demonstrates for the first time Dryden's probable debt to Mon- taigne. Secret Love is a serious play, for which Dryden deliberately adopted French neoclassic style. Mr. Loftis' commentary on Sir Martin Mar-all em- phasizes the play's affinities with Italian commedia dell'arte, and presents new evidence for the Duke of Newcastle's major participation in the writing of the play. $10.00 Volume IX in The California Edition of Dryden's Works. (Spring, 1967). from California UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS, BERKELEY 94720 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core from Cambridge POLITICS AND PROFIT ARTHUR JOSEPH SLAVIN In this study of Sir Ralph Sadler (1507-1547), the author pictures the making of a Tudor politician, shows the processes that made such a career possible, and is informative on patron- age, politics and the pursuit of profit in the reign of Henry VIII. $10.00 THE GROWTH OF RESPONSIBLE GOVERNMENT IN STUART ENGLAND CLAYTON ROBERTS A well-documented study tracing the transfer of power from the king to his ministers, in a period when constitutional and political developments hastened the growth of responsible government. $13.50 THE STUART CONSTITUTION, 1603-1688 J. P. KENYON Documents illustrating constitutional, political and ecclesiastical history, with full commentary. A companion volume to G. R. Elton's The Tudor Constitution and E. N. Williams's The Eighteenth Century Constitution. Cloth $12.50 Paper $4.95 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core /rom Cambridge THE VICTORIANS JOAN EVANS This handsome book, with 102 illustrations accompanied by extracts from contemporary writings and commentary by Joan Evans, presents the Victorian world in England as seen by a scholar who is both sympathetic and critical. General subjects covered are society, women, education, people, the home, transport and trade, and belief. $10.00 W. B. Gladstone, by PM May, USS from The Victorians EVOLUTION AND SOCIETY J. W. BURROW Dr Burrow examines the emergence of an evolutionary approach to the study of society in Victorian England, especially from 1860 to 1890. He deals particularly with H. S. Maine, Herbert Spencer and E. B. Tylor and their faith that sociology could uncover laws analogous to those of the natural sciences. $8.50 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 32 East 57th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core from Beacon Street, Boston...significant reading in history and biography Catherine Drinker Bowen *MIRACLE AT PHILADELPHIA: The Story of the Con- stitutional Convention, May to September 1787 A brilliant historical narrative of the personalities and prob- lems of the Constitutional Con- vention. Illus. $7.50 Edward WeeUs "THE LOWELLS AND THEIR INSTITUTE Of the Lowell Institute, Oliver Wendell Holmes said, "No no- bler or more helpful institution exists in America." Now Ed- ward Weeks gives a lively ac- count of the New England mind from 1840 to the present — and what the Lowell family has done to cultivate it. $5.75 C. Vann Woodward REUNION AND REACTION: The Compromise of 1877 and the End of Reconstruction A reissue of the classic work on the Reconstruction period. $5.00; paper, $1.65 Anthony Birley MARCUS AURELIUS A fresh, meticulously re- searched biography of the Roman emperor who ruled from 161 to 180 whose com- plex personality, as revealed in his Meditations, is provoca- tively explored. Illus. $6.95 Peter Stansky and William Abrahams * JOURNEY TO THE FRONTIER: Two Roads to the Spanish Civil War A dual biography of Julian Bell and John Cornford, English poets who died in the Spanish Civil War. "The best picture of the times I have read."—Ste- phen Spender. Illus. $7.50 Arthur M. Schlesinger, Jr. A PILGRIM'S PROGRESS: Orestes A. Brownson First published in 1939, this new edition of the definitive biography of the controversial philosopher of the Emerson period features a new fore- word by the author. $5.95; paper, $2.45 *Atlantic Monthly Press books At all bookstores LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE JOURNAL OF BRITISH STUDIES TRINITY COLLEGE HARTFORD, CONNECTICUT The Journal of British Studies is published under the auspices of the Conference on British Studies. It was founded in 1961 as a result of the imaginative generosity of a Trinity alumnus, Mr. Frederick E. Hasler (Hon. LL.D. 1957). Trinity College and Mr. George M. Ferris (B.A. 1916) have since joined Mr. Hasler to support publication of the Journal. The Journal appears twice in the academic year, in the autumn and in the spring. The annual subscription is $5.00. Commonwealth and foreign subscribers may remit by personal check or by check through their bankers, depending on their national exchange regulations. Checks for subscriptions and enquiries concerning advertising rates should be addressed to the Business Manager, British Studies, Box 1315, Trinity College, Hartford, Connecticut, 06106. Correspondence concerning manuscripts should be sent to Profes- sor Willson H. Coates, Department of History, University of Rochester, Rochester, New York, 14627. Volume VI, No. 2 will be published in May, 1967. For the convenience of subscribers who plan to have their copies bound, a title page containing a table of contents will be supplied every two years. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core New in the Series "Britain in the World Today" Britain and the Old Dominions by / . D. B. Miller $6.50 Starting with the growth of the common background of Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and South Africa in the nineteenth century, this study goes on to discuss the individual development of each, followed by a general examination of Britain and the four between 1918 and 1945. Post-war events are dealt with and changes in the structure of the Commonwealth relations in defense, foreign affairs, and in economic and social connections are discussed. Finally, there are summaries of Britain's relations with the four and projections for the future. The individual and Society in the Middle Ages by Walter UUmann $5.00 The author shows on a practical plane the historical conflict between the medieval concept of the individual as a mere subject and the modern idea of the citizen. The last tremors of this conflict are still being felt. The central problem down to the nineteenth century is the assertion or denial of autonomous rights on the part of the individual as a citizen. The historical analysis of this crucial topic contributes to a better understanding of the divergent developments of different countries and nations in our world today. The Johns Hopkins Press BALTIMORE terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021937100029981 https://www.cambridge.org/core The following articles will appear in the next issue of the Journal of British Studies: Robert Brentano — The Sound of Stubbs Carolyn Andervont Edie — New Buildings, New Taxes, and Old Interests: an Urban Problem of the 1670s Alfred F. Havighurst — Paperbacks on English History John F. C. Harrison — "The Steam Engine of the New Moral World": Owenism and Education, 1817-1829 George D. Heath III — Making the Instrument of Government James William Johnson — Horace Walpole and W. S. Lewis Donald N. 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work_mjm5a3422jd7le4gvnqib6dsia	----	Transatlantica, 2 | 2011 Transatlantica Revue d’études américaines. American Studies Journal  2 | 2011 Sport et société / Animals and the American Imagination Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: The Construction of Feminism, Newcastle, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010 Sara Heft Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/5301 DOI : 10.4000/transatlantica.5301 ISSN : 1765-2766 Éditeur AFEA Référence électronique Sara Heft, « Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: The Construction of Feminism, Newcastle, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010 », Transatlantica [En ligne], 2 | 2011, mis en ligne le 18 novembre 2011, consulté le 11 février 2021. URL : http:// journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/5301 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/transatlantica.5301 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 11 février 2021. Transatlantica – Revue d'études américaines est mis à disposition selon les termes de la licence Creative Commons Attribution - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modification 4.0 International. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/5301 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: The Construction of Feminism, Newcastle, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010 Sara Heft 1 About two-thirds into Exchanges and Correspondence: The Construction of Feminism, in an essay entitled “Letter Exchange in the Life of Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon: The First Female Suffrage Committee in Britain Seen Through her Correspondence”, Meritxell Simon-Martin refers to the “long tradition of female letter-writing” (193). Classic epistolary exchange is, of course, only the most literal form of “correspondence” that the various contributors to this volume are concerned with in the aftermath of an October 2008 conference held in Lyon, entitled “The Building of Feminism: Exchanges and Correspondences”. But it is also, perhaps, the most necessary form: the prerequisite condition for those other more immediate or indirect, personal or abstract forms of correspondence and discursive transmission—from personal meetings to citing one another or reading the same texts—that are equally relevant here, as in the development over time of any political or intellectual movement, large-scale consciousness-raising, or ideology. In an age of hypercommunication and Twitter revolutions, this collective reflection, with Simon-Martin’s article at its heart, recalls, at its best moments, the historically pivotal role of the postal system in the rise of subversive new ideas on women’s rights (and more) and the establishment of networks to promote these ideas over the course of the past two centuries (the period largely covered in this volume)—with particular weight given here to the mid-nineteenth century, as women’s movements were emerging on both sides of the Atlantic to the sounds of furious scribbling. Simon-Martin continues, retracing this momentum: For most women, […] ordinary letter-writing provided almost the only way in which to exercise their writing skills. […] Women wrote letters unnoticed. Perfectly Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: T... Transatlantica, 2 | 2011 1 ladylike, letter-writing was not regarded as threatening under gender hierarchies. Letter-exchange has potential disruptive implications, however. First, the wide range of functions and discourses blurred the dual definitions of gender traits and behavior. Women could confess secret passionate emotions but also reason on social and public issues. Letter-writing could be interpreted metaphorically as women freeing their minds from gender and patriarchal power when taking up their pens to express their thoughts. Being literate, able to put independent analytical though into writing may have engendered a sense of personality, authority, and self-worth. […Early] feminists […] first expressed their anti- patriarchal thoughts through their private correspondence. (193-94) 2 These private exchanges in turn spun off into more public stance-taking in the form of letters-to-the-editor, petitions, chain letters and other writings that weave into the various webs of solidarity and debate treated in these pages devoted to “feminism-in- the-making”—the penning of feminist positions that at times predate the emergence of the term itself, making for its frequently anachronistic use here by numerous scholars who grant themselves the “linguistic licence”, referred to by the editors in their introduction, to do so. 3 The eighteen articles selected for publication represent diverse disciplines—notably history and sociology—under the interdisciplinary umbrella of gender studies, and area studies encompassing a broad geographical swath, with American and British settings predominating—alongside French, German, Russian and Eastern Europe contexts, frequently intertwined in a transnational perspective. A familiar constellation of events in the history of feminism provides the foreground or backdrop for a number of these case studies, which likewise feature recurring actors in proto-feminist and feminist movements. 4 Two key and not-unrelated dates emblematic of the simultaneous mid-nineteenth century struggles to abolish slavery and enfranchise women—the June 1840 World’s Anti-Slavery Convention held in London, and the July 1848 National Women’s Rights Convention held in Seneca Falls, New York—occupy a major portion of the book’s first section, entitled “Transnational Exchanges and Correspondence”, in essays by Bonnie S. Anderson, Françoise Orazi, Béatrice Bijon, Claire Delahaye and Carol Faulkner. Anderson’s work, presented in the opening article “From Letters to a Movement: The Creation of Early International Feminism, 1830 to 1860”, is exceptional in its “mapping of a movement that was multilingual, cross-border and self-aware” (2), in which, just to cite a notable handful of events, the Saint-Simoniennes and “Sisters of America” influenced Harriet Taylor Mill to pen and John Stuart Mill to disseminate “Enfranchisement of Women” for a British and American readership; German Free Congregationalists established kindergartens and women’s colleges; and feminist newspapers sprung up in France, the United States and Germany, in an astonishing dynamic that truly got off the ground with the European revolutions of 1848, creating the world’s first international women’s movement that “challenged the male dominance of Western culture and society in a way that would not be repeated until the late 1960s” (22). The latter three articles narrow the focus to the ways in which transatlantic sisterhood was borne out of the inspiration that first-wave British and American activists found in one another: Orazi writes of “reluctant” feminist Harriet Martineau’s two-year stay Stateside (1834-1836), where she developed a “less [stifled] version of the feminism her British public persona dared to voice” (85) while in contrast, Bijon and Delahaye ground their “American daughters, English mothers: England as a model for American suffragists” (98) in the idea that American feminists Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: T... Transatlantica, 2 | 2011 2 lacked the militancy and daring of their British counterparts. Faulkner’s revelatory essay, closing the first section, examines Quaker minister and radical abolitionist Lucretia Mott’s correspondence with her allies abroad from 1840 to 1848, the years between her attendance of the World’s Anti-Slavery Convention and her organization, with Elizabeth Cady Stanton, of the Seneca Falls Convention. Mott’s exchanges with European reformers reveal how the London event—which the author places squarely in the “historical narrative of nineteenth-century feminism”—inspired her to launch “a transatlantic discussion of the individual relationship to the church and state” (126) that resulted in the latter convention. 5 Crisscrossing borders and eras, other essays in this section focus on German feminism as embodied by Alice Schwartzer, who has been an actor in the rooting of American feminist ideas in a German reality in recent decades, as detailed by Claire Greslé Favier; while Cornelia Möser takes a comparative look at German and French importations and interpretations of gender theory—notably that developed by Judith Butler in Gender Trouble—, the obstacles faced and fruitful debates aroused in each country. The complicated relationships between 20th-century feminists of the “East” and “West” are examined in two papers: Marie Fauvelle highlights the points of tension and attraction between early Soviet feminists and American figures like Emma Goldman; and Ioana Cîrstocea sheds light on “the discourses on women’s condition” in Eastern Europe after the fall of the Iron Curtain and the “transnational dynamics” at work in the development of feminism in that particular sphere (77). 6 After an opening essay on Mary Wollstonecraft’s influence on Elizabeth Cady Stanton that seems oddly placed, the second section, “Exchanges and Written Correspondence”, shifts the gaze to intranational networks such as the one surrounding early nineteenth- century “Literary Midwife” Margaret Fuller (146), whom Claude Cohen-Safir compares to Mme de Staël in certain key ways (notably, their shared a politicized conception of translation), and whose influence on Ralph Waldo Emerson in raising the transcendentalist philosopher’s favorable view of the women’s rights movement is subsequently examined in an essay by Marc Bellot. Emerson grew into a feminist sympathizer but could hardly have been called a feminist himself—unlike Wendell Phillips, whose “conversion to women’s rights” (173) as an actor in the antebellum American woman’s rights movement is detailed by Hélène Quanquin in an essay that provides fascinating insight into the awakening of the male abolitionist’s proto- feminist positions. Meritxell Simon-Martin turns to mid-Victorian England, analyzing Barbara Leigh Smith Bodichon’s personal letters and the new epistolary usages, such as letters-to-the-editor and chain letters, that she helped pioneer as tools for empowerment during the Women’s Suffrage Campaign of 1865-1867. Such forms of expression ultimately served as precursors for the “discursive space” of the letters-to- the-editor pages of later publications such as Ms. Magazine, which came to represent a new outlet for the consciousness-raising of a readership of second-wave American feminists in the early 1970s, as subsequently laid out by Angeline Durand: she calls the three to five pages of readers’ letters per issue a reflection of “the importance of writing as a form of social action in maintaining or promoting certain values” (226), echoing and expanding upon Simon-Martin’s earlier words. 7 The universalism of the magazine’s aims in addressing “all women, everywhere, and in every occupation” is challenged by the book’s final section, “Exchanges and Correspondence between Feminism and Other Ideologies”, which analyzes how Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: T... Transatlantica, 2 | 2011 3 feminist positions are appropriated or rejected by individuals, identities or groups —“interacting and overlapping” as they may be (5)—that “resist” major aspects of traditional feminist thought. Case studies in “conservative forces” clashing with feminism include Margaret Oliphant’s “utopian” visions of domesticity, which Zsuzsanna Varga pieces together out of perceptions of “prudishness” often held of the turn-of-the-century Scottish writer; while Anne Stefani analyzes the unambiguous “intertwining” of the struggles for racial and gender emancipation during the American civil rights movement for a population of southern women seeking to overthrow the forces of patriarchal oppression in the “Old South”. The complex interplay—sympathies and ambivalences—of this double struggle are present throughout the volume; and are notably tackled by Hélène Charléry in her work, which retraces how the “multiply-oppressed” position of African-American women, caught between “western white” feminism and the strongly patriarchal discourse of the Black Liberation movement, shaped the emergence of the black feminist movement starting in the late 1960s, in parallel—and not necessarily in opposition—to other women’s discourses. The tensions between feminisms are also treated by Simona Tersigni and Zahra Ali in the book’s closing essay on possible intersections between feminism and Islamism, a debate taking up increasing space in the public sphere in Europe in recent years, as attempts to define a feminism that counters the ethnocentric pretenses of traditional “universal” feminism have been multiplying in a transnational and postcolonial context. 8 With this transnationality, we come full circle. The obvious overlaps and interplays between the themes and subjects broached in these articles, which complement each other in a collection that works as a many-voiced dialogue, render the conventional division of this publication into three sections neither particularly revelatory nor necessary in editorializing the content; the richest textual juxtapositions that do occur are in terms of era and geographical spheres, with an obvious monopoly of Anglo- American content. The volume is at its most compelling when “exchanges and correspondence” actually refer to those “documentary sources long overlooked by historians” (1) that can shed new light on the plights of feminists over time. However, its methodological tools and topics remain firmly entrenched in familiar territory—a solid, if not groundbreaking, contribution to the history of feminist thought and action, with the briefest of glances given to current debates. INDEX Thèmes : Recensions AUTEUR SARA HEFT Université Paris 8 Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: T... Transatlantica, 2 | 2011 4 Claudette Fillard and Françoise Orazi (eds.), Exchanges and Correspondence: The Construction of Feminism, Newcastle, Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010 
work_mks5ojb5bjbcnowtmmnkezi2ey	----	Aesthetic Investigations Sensus and Dissensus Communis. The Comedy of Democracy (Following Cavell). Author Josef Früchtl Affiliation University of Amsterdam Abstract: The thesis of the article is that, following Stanley Cavell, within the framework of Western culture, the cinematic comedy again and again can be seen as an aesthetic form where passions for democracy take their way. Cavell defines, first, philosophy as a matter of the ‘human voice’ which is, in reference to Kant’s third Critique, a ‘universal voice’. An aesthetic judgement insofar is a model of philosophical judgement. But beyond this, secondly, it is also a model of demo- cratic judgement. For Kant, arguing about aesthetic matters means facilitating the communitarisation of confrontation. ‘Common sense’ (sensus communis) is the po- litical term Kant offers for this. Since this term, thirdly, has recently again been appropriated by populist semantics, it is important to stress a radically democratic meaning, with Cavell: a romantic conception of democracy, and to this conception, fourth, the art form of comedy corresponds. Comedy and democracy both centre around ‘the common, the familiar, the low’, and in laughter give this human-social sphere both an anarchic-democratic level of meaning and a certain, humorous self- reflection. The movie Adam’s Rib finally works as an example for this. To say that philosophy is fundamentally dismissive of the ordinary is surely a cliché. Even Socrates, that ancient founder of Western philosophy, fa- mously involved ordinary people in conversations about everyday topics in order to draw additional theoretical conclusions, especially with regard to practical ethics. The most conspicuous examples of this in the Modern Age are David Hume, Friedrich Nietzsche and John Dewey. However, no philo- sophical tradition has taken the ordinary so seriously and spelled out its © Aesthetic Investigations Vol 4, No 1 (2020), 96-111 Josef Früchtl significance in so many different variations as that in which Stanley Cavell emphatically includes himself: namely the tradition of the later Wittgenstein, as well as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, somewhat con- fusingly known as ‘American transcendentalism’. The innovation of ordinary language philosophy presented by Wittgenstein consists in its precise analysis of linguistic expressions using colloquial means in order to cure philosophy of its old metaphysical and new scientific, that is logical-positivistic fixations. This theoretical-therapeutic strategy is easy to link to the declared goal of US-American transcendentalism, famously summarised by Emerson as fol- lows: ‘I embrace the common, I explore and sit at the feet of the familiar, the low.’1 Cavell also sits joyfully at the feet of the familiar, indeed he sometimes celebrates an embracing of the common, the simple, the ordinary in words no less emphatic than those Emerson chose in the romantic spirit of the early 19th century. To this extent he delivers a perfect US-American variant of Romanticism. Which culture, if not the US-American culture, should be bet- ter destined to declare the ordinary extraordinary, and vice versa, with all its concomitant ambivalences? In this cultural context, Cavell has no hesitation in including cinema, which he vehemently propounds without any European arrogance to be the appropriate art form for the masses in the 20th century. He undoubtedly deserves to be the honorary representative of ordinary film philosophy. Cavell also lends this context a political-philosophical and espe- cially democracy-theoretical accent, albeit allusively and indirectly. Readers of Cavell’s works need to work out for themselves that for him film, espe- cially comedy, represents a vision of militant democracy. The link between film, comedy, democratic forms of life and romantic becoming ordinary of the non-ordinary accordingly first has to be clarified through discourse. This is what I should like to attempt in the following. My thesis, thus, is that within the framework of Western culture, the cinematic comedy – that romantic fu- sion of the ordinary and the extraordinary, renewed in popular culture – again and again can be seen as an aesthetic form where passions for democracy take their way. I. CAVELL’S VOICES Drawing upon his honoured teacher John Austin, and with a deliberate, crit- ical stance towards the philosophy of Jacques Derrida, Cavell defines the essence of his philosophy as ‘a matter of reinserting or replacing the human voice in philosophical thinking.’2 That is a surprising and therefore for Cavell a typical statement. The voice is not, namely, a fundamental philosophical concept. In the relevant lexica it is rarely listed as an official term. And yet, if we remember Derrida’s now somewhat faded theory, it is key to philosophy that it views itself as being subject to massive criticism of so-called logocen- trism. Cavell is reticent with regard to this major theory. He agrees, on the one hand, that performative expressions can ‘be seen as an attack on what 97 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. deconstruction attacks under the name logocentrism’, but on the other hand he regards deconstructivism as a ‘flight from the ordinary’.3 Cavell raises in philosophy, however, not only the human voice of everyday language, but also that of the self. Accordingly, the text genres of philosophy include not only ordinary language philosophy, but also autobiography. Here Cavell can appeal to some famous references, and he has presented some of his own deliberations under the title A Pitch of Philosophy. Autobiographical Exercises.4 The term ‘voice’ refers not only to the spoken language of the everyday world and individual language use, but also, thirdly, to the field of politics, at least in German. In German, the word for ‘vote’ is identical to that for voice (Stimme) and here functions as a democratic-political metaphor found in words such as Stimmrecht (voting rights), Stimmzettel (ballot slip), Ab- stimmung (ballot), etc. and meaning the individual ‘right to speak’ or to voice one’s opinion.5 In this context Cavell also allows himself to be led by the romantic emphasis on individualism.6 The democratic-political seman- tics of the voice (Stimme) have an accent for Cavell which is individualistic in a radicalised and even intermittently anarchistic way, placing it within the American romantic tradition of civil disobedience. Finally, in addition to its colloquial, individualistic and political mean- ings, the concept of the voice also has a universal connotation for Cavell. When Cavell characterises philosophy as the claim ‘to speak for the human’, he moves within the classical tradition of philosophical understanding. His variation begins when he describes this claim to universality as a ‘univer- salising use of the voice’ and additionally recognises the ‘arrogance’ which can be found within this claim, namely ‘the arrogant assumption of the right to speak for others’.7 In its inevitability, this arrogance is immanent in the philosophical use of the substantivistic pronoun ‘I’, which means that it is legitimate despite the seemingly illegitimate gesture. One justification for this can be found in the concept of the exemplary. That which expresses itself in the first person of the autobiography is ‘representative’; ‘each life (is) exemplary of all’; herein also lies a ‘commonness’ of humanity.8 Cavell bases his deliberations, albeit seldom explicitly, on Kant’s Critique of Judgement.9 Here he finds not only the significance of the exemplary, but also preformulated the metaphor that guides it. According to Kant, if we call an object beautiful ‘we believe ourselves to be speaking with a universal voice’ and that means, again according to Kant, that with an aesthetic judgement one ‘lays claim’ to the ‘agreement of everyone’.10 It is this paradoxical struc- ture of a ‘subjective universality’ which Cavell transfers to the philosophical form of substantiation. What is only true of aesthetic judgements in tran- scendental philosophy, is also true of philosophical judgements in the sense of Cavell’s ordinary language philosophy. For a philosopher who says that ‘we’ use terms such as beautiful, game or meaning in a certain way, is also saying that all people who understand these terms (correctly) are compelled to use 98 Josef Früchtl them in the same way. And for this kind of compulsion he has no evidence other than that exemplary evidence underlined by Kant to provide validity for his taste judgement. To this extent, an aesthetic judgement is a model of philosophical judge- ment. Beyond this it is also a model of democratic judgement, and I would now like to briefly provide evidence for this in a second step. II. THE KANTIAN QUESTION OF WHY WE HAVE TO QUARREL ABOUT MATTERS OF AESTHETICS The desire to interpret Kant’s theory of aesthetic judgement politically, or rather with a political accentuation, is as old as the theory itself. Three well-known such proposals for interpretation have become established. In the historical context of the French Revolution, Friedrich Schiller is the first to use the contrasting capacities of cognition (imagination and reason) in a daring political analogy to also see therein the contrasting social classes. Hannah Arendt, on the other hand, emphasises the enabling powers of aes- thetic judgement to put oneself in the place of others; she accentuates the aesthetic capability of the imaginary, indeed the ideal of role playing; here aesthetic judgement is a form of empathy, the understanding of an intellec- tual sentiment. Finally, Jacques Rancière follows on from Schiller in terms of sociopolitical radicalisation when he describes the contrast between the two cognitive capacities or classes as that between exclusion and inclusion, between those who determine what is politically viable and those who are excluded from this process.11 I would like to add a fourth proposal to this list of interpretations. For politics as a model, especially democratic politics, the aesthetic is well suited because it commendably evens out the tension between communality and dis- cord, trains the as-if perspective and ultimately facilitates a (presentative, compensative and transformative) communication of sentiments. In the fol- lowing, I shall refrain from speaking about the last two for reasons of time and space. I should merely like to concentrate for a while on the first point named, that is the relationship between communality and discord. My theory here is: arguing about aesthetic matters means facilitating the communitarisation of confrontation. As we know, Kant analyses the argumentative logic behind the aesthetic judgement as a specific relationship between the faculties of the imagination (as a form of sensation) and understanding (Verstand) or reason (Vernunft) in general. One has to emphasise that these faculties are strictly oppositional. The one does precisely what the other does not want. As Kant puts it in §50 of his Critique of Judgement: Imagination stands for ‘lawless freedom’, but reason ‘is the power of judgement’. The one, taken alone, ‘produces nothing but nonsense’, the other is the faculty ‘consonant with understanding’.12 It seems that the contradiction can only be solved in one direction or the other: 99 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. either imagination in its unbridled freedom produces forms which overtax the power of judgement, or reason limits the imagination. In the case of an aes- thetic object (of nature, art, the everyday), however, what happens is neither a subordination nor a mere (static) contradiction, but a (dynamic) recipro- cal stimulation and potentiation of these oppositional elements. This is what Kant meant by ‘play’.13 And since this play takes place between our ‘cogni- tive powers’, i.e. between elements of experience which are fundamental to human recognition, it is possible to speak of the aesthetic as if it were a cog- nitively substantiated fact. In this way Kant can also impart the conciliatory suggestion that one may not be able to ‘dispute’, to decide objectively about taste, but that one can ‘quarrel’ about it, and for him that means: one can attempt to battle out a consensus.14 In an aesthetic judgement we maintain something which we cannot prove, but in a manner as if we were able to prove it. For that which we maintain entails a legitimately felt claim to generalis- able validity, a claim which is based on a feeling which is not merely private, in other words subjectively valid, but also generally valid because it grows from the interplay, the endless and passionate interaction of different, even opposing elements of knowing and experiencing which in addition manifests a reference to the dimensions of discourse called (explicit) knowledge, morality and politics.15 Expressed in somewhat old-fashioned political language, we cultivate in aesthetic experiences ‘a certain liberality in our way of thinking’. Kant understands this as ‘independence of the liking from mere enjoyment of sense’.16 But it is obvious that here he is also pointing out the significance of freedom from prejudice, preference and freedom of mind in a further sense. Aesthetic liberality is a successful balance between accord and discord. It is the passionate and endless attempt to battle out a consensus, in other words the fight among wilful or querulant individuals for community. III. DEMOCRATIC COMMON SENSE The general voice by which Cavell allows himself to be led is what Kant promi- nently calls common sense (Gemeinsinn), only to immediately distinguish it from the ordinary, political-ethical sense, that so-called healthy common sense (sens commun, gesunder Menschenverstand) of the Enlightenment. It is one of the peculiarities of the history of philosophical terms that the ‘history of decay’ of common sense as a term begins when its conceptual clarification reaches its climax through – nota bene – restriction to the aesthetic field pur- sued by Kant.17 This is not true for the history of the term in its political meaning, however. Whereas we can ascertain that the 18th century stands out as the heyday of the term common sense, the 20th century after the Sec- ond World War sees its revival in the services of representative democracy.18 The various stages of this history are quickly told. Following on from the epistemological meaning proposed by Aristotle un- der the term koine aisthesis, an authority intended to coordinate the impres- 100 Josef Früchtl sions of the five human senses, during Roman Stoicism the term acquires a politico-social and cultural meaning. Here, for the first time, it means those values and convictions which are usually shared unspoken within a commu- nity. At the beginning of the 18th century, following the Glorious Revolution, a definition is then brought into circulation in England and France. Shaftes- bury (1709), Giambattista Vico (1725) and Thomas Reid (1764) are the lead- ing theorists here. In his famous essay from 1776, Thomas Paine puts common sense into the US American context for the first time. Common sense is to provide an answer to the question which will continue to occupy theorists of modern society, namely ‘how to hold a heterogeneous society together with a minimum of force’.19 The French Revolution refutes the relevance of the term, the key concepts now being reason, freedom, truth and nation. Robe- spierre and his revolutionary allies are all too painfully aware of the fact that the people, in whose name they are conducting the Revolution, are hindered by ignorance (not to say stupidity) and superstition. Napoleon then finally succeeds in linking the revolutionary impulse with the counter-revolutionary impulse in order to mobilise the so-called people and successfully perpetrate a policy of disempowering those same people. The French Revolution, as we are aware today, for the first time stirs up that populist criticism of democ- racy which is later to have a mass impact in the totalitarian states of the 20th century.20 Populism is a buzzword which also in our times agitates the political spirits. In the political sciences, discussion of the semantics of this word has only just begun, and yet the link to an anti-elitist and anti-democratic element already seems at least plausible: in socio-critical terms, populism campaigns against ‘the Establishment’, those ‘elites’ of politicians, media representatives, intellectuals and managers who pull the wool over the eyes of the good hard- working taxpaying people; populism is anti-democratic to the extent that it unhinges pluralism, on which not only representative democracy is counting, following on from the fact that the people is in a constant battle with itself as a result of the division of powers, that it is not ‘one’ with itself.21 In the context of common sense, we should be aware that this term is not protected from appropriation by populist semantics. And not least because it, like our own theory of communitarianism, emerged from a tension with the idea of the liberal constitutional state and the principles of reason and autonomy; common sense represents the other, more collective side of the democratic coin. But that means that it, like the populism monopolising it politically, is both one of the columns of democracy and one of its permanent threats. The marriage between democracy and populism in the concept of common sense is inevitably a ‘slippery subject’.22 101 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. IV. COMEDY AND DEMOCRACY When I underline the relationship between common sense, quarrel and democ- racy, I indicate that I tend towards a conception of democracy which in more recent discussion has become known as an ‘agonal’ or – with less drama – ‘communicative-associative’ democracy.23 Within this framework democracy is concerned with the conflict between groupings who wish to assert their own convictions of a collectively correct life. Confrontational distinctions between ‘us’ and ‘them’ are here constitutive, but they do not harden to become a confrontation similar to that of civil war. Carl Schmitt’s notorious antago- nism is here mitigated or transformed to become agonism. The basic political distinction between ‘friend’ and ‘foe’ is relaxed as the Other enters the ring as a mere ‘opponent’. The political and moral basic principle of respect for the other holds true here, also and especially because the other advocates principles and convictions which are incompatible with one’s own. Schmitt’s political philosophy, as is well known, stems from his vehement criticism of Romanticism, which he comprehends, as is usual since Hegel and Goethe, as the hubris of the world-creating subject, that is, as a flight from the reality of the normal world.24 Cavell turns this criticism on its head. More precisely, he offers a secularly dialectic and humanistic interpretation according to which Romanticism is both a wish for the extraordinary and for the ordinary, climaxing in seeing the ordinary as something extraordinary. It is not a case of seeing the extraordinary as something ordinary, and thus removing what makes it special, but on the contrary of seeing the ordinary as something extraordinary.25 If Romanticism therefore means a new under- standing of the subjective, a reinterpretation of the everyday world, as it is driven ever onwards by the individual powers of imagination in order thus to express one’s own subjectivity, then this expressivism has the political im- plication elevated by the United States to rank as Constitutional: namely, the right of every individual to realise his or her own idea of a good life: the pursuit of happiness.26 This is Cavell’s Romantic concept of democracy. It means not only liberalistic self-determination, but within this same frame- work also individual self-realisation. In the sense of Isaiah Berlin, democracy means not only ‘negative’, but also ‘positive’ freedom, not only the freedom of citizens from state coercion, but also realisation of one’s own goals. It is Romantic because it places a significantly expressivistic accent on positive freedom. Now the final question is whether there is an art form which most closely corresponds to this democracy. Cavell’s philosophical emphasis on the voice steers our answer towards three art forms: music (predominantly opera), the- atre and finally film, that technological or, more precisely, technical-dynamic synthesis of music and theatre (whereas opera constitutes the artificial syn- thesis). But Cavell does not nobilise film in his theory of democracy by examining it media-essentialistically or ontologically for certain production techniques (such as montage) or methods of reception (such as experiencing 102 Josef Früchtl something as shocking, or noting something with distraction) in the manner attempted by Walter Benjamin in the 1930s. Rather, he limits his interest in this regard to certain genres, namely melodrama and comedy. In sociopolit- ical terms, melodrama deals with the bitter drama of failing female emanci- pation in bourgeois civilisation, whereas comedy deals with the battle of the sexes.27 At this juncture it would normally be necessary to include a detailed discussion of whether, and if so how, comedy displays a stronger affinity to democracy than tragedy or its diminutive bourgeois form, the melodrama. Instead, I shall limit myself to some supporting comments. They all point to the argument which Cavell embraces, with Emerson, namely that comedy and democracy both (a) centre around ‘the common, the familiar, the low’ and in laughter give this human-social sphere both (b) an anarchic-democratic level of meaning and (c) a certain self-reflection. Let us have a closer look at this. In its essence, this argument was formed as far back as Aristotle. As he says in his Poetics, comedy brings people onto the stage who are in some re- spects ‘worse than the average’, ‘beneath’ the level of the spectators, in other words people who, on the one hand, are governed in their anthropological weaknesses by the conditio humana and, on the other hand, belong socially and politically to a lower, non-aristocratic class.28 The latter distinguishing criterion is to retain its validity until the late 18th century but is completely diffused in the 20th century. The Hollywood comedies of remarriage which Cavell dedicates himself to are also evidence of this as these comedies al- ways take place in the setting of an affluent, a kind of money-aristocratic class. The anthropological attribution correspondingly moves further into fo- cus. Where comedy is concerned with human, all-too-human weaknesses, or in more neutral terms, characteristics, it is really concerned with our attitude towards these characteristics, in other words with our culture and morality. And the task of comedy is to expose these characteristics – from cultural and social inadequacies to moral weaknesses – to laughter and ridicule. This can occur in different ways, however, sometimes in very different ways. Two reac- tions seem to be key: derogatory and (re)cognisant, superior and conciliatory, mocking and humorous laughter. But they are joined by two others: releas- ing laughter and laughter reacting to the irreconcilable; relieving laughter and laughter which expresses an incongruity. At least four types of ‘comical’ or ‘funny’ therefore need to be distinguished.29 The first is the most evident and theoretically the most common type, summarised as the superiority theory. Accordingly, when we laugh we ex- press superiority over the object of our laughter. The weaknesses which we laugh at are those of others. It is a laughter which at least has a tendency towards the aggressive, which politically is keenly functionalised by totalitar- ian states, but that does not mean it does not also fulfil a useful function in democracies. Here it depends on translating negative-aggressive (morally humiliating) laughter to positive-aggressive laughter, similar to how in the 103 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. course of civilisation and upbringing we learn to translate the psycho-physical eruptive energy of aggression into rational thought and use it to lend our ar- guments ‘bite’ and ‘sharpness’.30 Plato, Aristotle and Thomas Hobbes can be named as relevant superiority theorists, but also Henri Bergson, according to whom derision can be grasped as a warning by the community to those so- called awkward individuals who do not manage to adapt in the expected social way and who therefore stiffen ‘mechanically’ and make themselves ridiculous. The best cineastic examples of this are Charlie Chaplin and Buster Keaton, who demonstrate that laughing at others does not have to be utterly morally superior, socially humiliating or politically exclusive. Bergson himself speaks differentiatingly of a ‘momentary anaesthesia of the heart’.31 A (mere) mo- ment of permitted moral-social coldness and political animosity is accordingly a necessary element of laughing at comic and comedic figures. The superiority theory covers probably the largest area of what makes peo- ple laugh. But the incongruence theory is also important. Here, laughter is a physical reaction to semantic ambivalences and logical nonsense, the unex- pected, and involves a sudden dissolution of an expectation, a game of surprise with conventions. Kant, Søren Kierkegaard and Arthur Schopenhauer rep- resent this theory, but also Helmuth Plessner with his famous philosophical- anthropological distinction between ‘bodily experience’ (Leib sein, literally translated: ‘being a body’) and ‘experiencing one’s body’ (Körper haben, lit- erally translated: ‘having a body’), which he links to the anthropological phenomena of laughing and crying. Laughing, like crying, is a physical reac- tion in the face of a situation to which we cannot react with speech. Instead, we seek out a different level of meaning where ‘bodily experience’ plays a ma- jor role. For the art form of theatre (but also film) this physicality has two consequences, as stressed by Bernhard Greiner. Firstly, it is constitutive of theatre that it ‘always simultaneously presents the movement of messages, for which the body is the instrument of “expression”, and the movement of bod- ies, which are the actors’. Linguistic and performative meaning are equally relevant. Particularly for the genres of comedy and tragedy, however, the consequence is that they each place different emphases on these double lev- els of meaning: whereas tragedy strengthens the importance of ‘expression’, comedy refuses to make the same hierarchisation, instead emphasising not the words, but the physical-performative happenings on the stage.32 Comedy, we can then say, is democratic-horizontal and anarchic (not: anarchistic) in its semantic structure.33 It performatively undermines the meanings it itself has offered, takes back in the course of the events what it itself has previously presented. Thirdly, the compensation theory claims to be comprehensive, but remains completely within an abstract-mechanical economy of the physical and the emotions. This theory was first developed by Herbert Spencer in the 19th century, who explained laughter in its physical process as a liberating release of accumulated nervous energy, and became famous with Freud and his work 104 Josef Früchtl on Wit and its Relation to the Unconscious (1905). According to Freud, the desire for wit, comedy and humour is drawn from a source which has become increasingly obstructed since earliest childhood, an obstruction we can only escape momentarily through laughter. Accordingly, laughter permits momentary satisfaction of a (particularly sexual and aggressive) drive which moral and legal standards prohibit us from acting upon. The later Freud is to write a text suited to the fourth theory of laughter and the comic, the reconciliation or more precisely humour theory. His short essay Humour (1927) is no longer based on the mechanic-hydraulic explana- tory model, but on Freud’s so-called structural or three-agent model of the psyche, with its now famous distinction between id, ego and superego. The surprising line of argumentation which Freud takes in this context consists in allowing the superego, that abstract agent of valid norms, to be not puni- tive and hostile, but liberating, inspiring, loving and comforting. To quote a funny pun from Simon Critchley: ‘this superego is your amigo’.34 Whereas in superiority we laugh at others by seeing them as children and ourselves as adults, in humour we laugh at ourselves. The adult once again accepts themselves as a child, and for the human species that means accepting itself in its infancy. In humorous laughter we adopt an amicable attitude towards our human limitations or conditio humana. In the context of the discussion about a common sense demanded by democracy, Freud’s later theory acquires an additional meaning. When we laugh at ourselves, we laugh not only at ourselves as individuals and part of humanity, but also as part of a social group. Humour and brilliant wit, following Shaftesbury’s observation, are a form of the sensus communis. They reveal a deep layer of our shared cultural (moral, social, political) values. Thus ‘the Bavarians’ laugh at ‘the Prussians’ and vice versa, ‘the Germans’ laugh at ‘the East Frisians’ or maybe at ‘the French’ and vice versa, and thus they all laugh imagining themselves as part of a small, yet unconquerable community. For example, somewhere in Brittany they might laugh at ‘the Romans’ as a symbol of imperialism, etc. But this superior laughing of one community of shared values at another also involves an additional, albeit often subtle, opposing element. In laughing in this way, we assure ourselves of that which we have in common, not only by placing ourselves in opposition to another group – the first and most common type – but also by distancing ourselves from our own group, albeit only maybe momentarily – and this is the second type. This type avails itself of the incongruence method in particular, the second of the models introduced above. Every unexpected turn in a joke or comic situation is also a turn against the sensus communis. We can therefore say that laughter at jokes and comic situations also indicates a dissensus communis.35 Laughter reveals structures in one’s view of the world because it not only invites one to identify blindly with some, but also to distance oneself from others. The latter is a weaker option, to be sure, but it enables the line of argumentation which Kant set out in his Critique of Judgement to 105 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. be taken up once more: the more laughter at the comic distances itself from a concrete community, the more an ideal community shines through. The affinity of democracy for comedy and, more broadly, for the comic therefore – firstly – consists in focussing on what, in a socio-cultural and an- thropological sense, is ordinary: the calamities (embarrassments and unfor- tunate mishaps) of human beings, whether as members of a certain group or as members of the species. Comedy is happy to leave extraordinary heroism, sublime idealism, devastating suffering, all-pervading pathos, entanglement in compelling contradictions, death in the name of a higher cause, acknowl- edgement of a fateful and stronger power, to tragedy. Of course, tragic con- flicts are also undeniably constitutive of democracy, conflicts resulting from equally justified claims which are therefore irreconcilable. This is precisely what makes democracy agonal. But these are not conflicts which culminate in life or death, at least not in usual circumstances falling short of revolu- tion and civil war. The dramas of polemic democracy are different, milder. The affinity of democracy for comedy – secondly – consists in cultivating an anarchic-democratic semantics which not only refuses to accept a higher in- stance, but which ultimately refuses to accept an instance at all. The comic insofar is constitutively anti-dogmatic. And thirdly, the affinity of democracy consists in giving laughter, in incongruence and humour, a self-reflective and again anti-dogmatic twist. Human beings who can laugh at themselves are at home in a democracy. V. LAUGHING AT THE BATTLE OF THE SEXES Let us, finally, cast a look at one of the Hollywood comedies which attracted Cavell’s romantic-democratic attention.36 Adam’s Rib, directed by George Cukor and first released in 1949, is one of those films known in Hollywood as a sophisticated or romantic comedy. They are filled with dialogue and fast action, in general line with comedy, which is not the place for silent and inactive characters, however much these characters may seem comic or even be comedians; the films of Aki Kaurismäki are worth watching in this con- text. Slapstick comedies, especially silent films, headed by the unforgettable Buster Keaton, focus on a very unique type of action based on the body and facial expression, or more precisely on physical misfortune, an alien situa- tion and a corresponding commentary by facial expression, which for Keaton can be completely deadpan. Cavell’s comedies of remarriage, in contrast, are closer to the type of conversational plays written by George B. Shaw or Oscar Wilde, set in more elevated, that is wealthier and educated social circles, and indulging us with brilliant conversation. Adam’s Rib is tellingly translated into German as Ehekrieg (Marital Feud) because the film deals with the bat- tle of the sexes fought inside a marriage, a sociopolitical problem in which, as always when real change is involved, one side must fight hard for what the other has long had and refuses to share. 106 Josef Früchtl Adam and Amanda Bonner, played by Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hep- burn, a Hollywood dream team in the 1940s, are a happily married couple, as we learn at the beginning of the film. Discussions immediately become heated, however, whenever sexual equality rears its head as a bone of con- tention. This happens also when a woman is accused of attempting to murder her husband after she has caught him with another woman in flagranti. Des- perately and clumsily (she first has to study the instructions), she waves a revolver around and shoots, injuring her husband. As soon as she realises what she has done, she immediately and comically remembers her role as loving wife and attends to him in his plight. Amanda, a lawyer by profession, assumes the defence of the wife, while Adam, a public prosecutor, takes up the case for the prosecution. He loses the case because his wife and professional adversary builds up a skilful line of defence based on the unequal perception of the sexes. If it had not been a woman directing a weapon at her husband, but a man directing one at his wife found with another man, he would not be found guilty because a husband can appeal to the unwritten law whereby he always has the right to defend his own home against intruders. Amanda demands the same right for her client. In ancient comic tradition, Adam, representing the male sex, is shown up quite badly by his wife. She repeatedly proves herself as the verbally dextrous lawyer. Once she even oversteps the verbal boundary and exposes Adam to physical ridicule when she asks a witness, a former weightlifter, to demonstrate her skills in the court room. Much to his amazement, the woman lifts him up in the air, leaving him to gesticulate wildly and awkwardly like a little boy. In private the couple also cross the aggression boundary, not badly or coarsely, but no longer lovingly. During a massage which they are both obviously enjoying, she smacks him on his behind, then he does the same to her more forcefully, until anger is written all over her face – and she is about to have a fit of rage. The curve of aggression reaches its peak when Adam, after his failure in court, turns his successful wife’s legal argument around and uses it against her. Knowing that a friend of theirs and presumptuous admirer of Amanda is visiting her for the evening, he surprises them both with a drawn pistol. This is clearly a re-enactment of the scene with the wronged wife that we saw at the beginning of the film. But Adam is only pretending. The pistol is made of liquorice, and he enjoys biting into it once he has achieved his aim, namely that his shocked and frightened wife falls back on the position that was precisely his own in court: that nobody has the right to break the law by taking it into their own hands. After he has taught her this lesson, an actual quarrel breaks out between the three people in the room involving physical violence or at least physical involvement, a small physical explosion of emotions which the film does not actually show. The film restricts itself to the outcome: crumpled, furious, dishevelled figures. 107 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. Adam’s rib thus brings two marriages to the courtroom, that of the ac- cused and her unfaithful husband, and that of Adam and Amanda Bonner, the prosecutor and his lawyer wife. In an exemplary culmination, we can also say that it brings to the courtroom the very institution of marriage itself, or rather the bourgeois form of marriage practised in America after the Second World War; and that it does this in such an uproarious way that the pro- ceedings sometimes seem like a Punch and Judy show.37 Marriage becomes the object of pugnacious debate, and the cinema becomes an extended court of law in which the audience, men and women, married or not (yet), are ulti- mately called upon to pass judgement on themselves. Not in legal earnest, but laughing: sometimes superior and mocking, pointing a negative-aggressive or maybe a positive-aggressive finger at others, momentarily anaesthetising the morally beating heart, sometimes in recognition and reconciliation, increasing expectations and thwarting them, and always relieving and releasing. Of course, in the film the couple ultimately manages to avert the threat of divorce. Adam proudly tells his wife that the Republican party wishes to propose him to hold the position of a Judge. His joyful expression changes, however, sensing an impending blow, when Amanda with feigned innocence asks him whether the Democrats have also proposed a candidate – and of course she means a female candidate. The film thus has a happy ending – otherwise it would not be a comedy – yet one which already hints at the next conflict – otherwise it would not be a comedy for a combative democracy. j.fruchtl@uva.nl NOTES 1‘The American Scholar’, quoted in Cavell 1981, 14. 2Cavell 1990, 63. 3Cavell 1994, 79, and, respectively 167. 4Augustine’s Confessions, those of Rousseau (which he does not specify, how- ever) and, finally, three testimonies from the 19th century, namely Nietzsche’s Ecce homo, Thoreau’s Walden and Mill’s work The Subjection of Women. Mill wrote this work with his wife, whom he also acknowl- edges as having influenced his other books, far removed from any patriarchal attitude or vanity (cf. Cavell 1994, 16-17, 2, 39). 5Cavell 1994, 37, 69. 6Cf. Cavell 1994, 50; Emerson’s fa- mous quotation in this context is: ‘Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist’, quoted in: Laugier 2015, 1048. 7Cavell 1994, vii-viii. 8Cavell 1994, 11. 9‘Kant’s “universal voice” is, with per- haps a slight shift of accent, what we hear recorded in the philosopher’s claims about “what we say”’ (Cavell 1976, 94). 10Kant 1987, 59-60 (§8), cf. 56 (§7), 86 (§19). 11Cf. Rancière 2002. 12Kant 1987, 188 (§50). 13Cf. here also Henrich 1992, 51-52. 14Kant 1987, 210 (§56). 15Privacy of feeling means their claim to validity, not their constitutability. The idea that even the seemingly most pri- vate of emotions are socially constituted and thus not private can be convincingly substantiated with theories such as those by the late Wittgenstein, Gadamer and Davidson. An aesthetic statement which 108 mailto:j.fruchtl@uva.nl Josef Früchtl is private or subjectively valid is one such as: ‘Barnett Newman’s “Who’s Afraid of Red, Yellow and Blue?” – taking Version III in the Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam – ‘is a bad painting because I really am afraid of red.’ 16Kant 1987, 128. 17Cf. Maydell and Wiehl 1974, 244. 18Rosenfeld 2011, 244. On the history of the term following in the text cf. in turn Rosenfeld 2011, 22 (on Stoicism), 24 (Shaftesbury 1709), 59 (Vico 1725), 71 (Reid 1764), 136 (Paine 1776). 19Rosenfeld 2011, 24. 20Cf. Rosenfeld 2011, 182, 193, 194, 220. 21Cf. Müller 2016, 26, 55. 22Rosenfeld 2011, 6, 256. 23On the agonal, that means the prin- cipally, but not existentially antagonis- tic concept of the political, cf. Mouffe 2000; Mouffe 2005; with greater proxim- ity to a deliberative concept of democracy: Honig 1993; Tully 1995; Connolly 1999; on the communicative-associative concept of democracy cf. Benhabib 1992, Calhoun 1992, 73-98; Bickford 1996. 24Cf. Bohrer 1989, 138ff. (Hegel) & 284ff. (Schmitt). 25‘One can think of romanticism as the discovery that the everyday is an excep- tional achievement. Call it the achieve- ment of the human’ Cavell 1979, 463. This interpretation is fitting for the famous def- inition by Novalis (from Aphorismen und Fragmente 1798-1800): ‘Insofar as I imbue the mundane with meaning, the ordinary with mystery, the familiar with the seemli- ness of the unfamiliar, and the finite with the semblance of the infinite, I romanti- cise it.’ - We should remember here that Thomas Mann also once made a connec- tion between Novalis and Walt Whitman, between German Romanticism and Amer- ican democracy; both sides needed each other (cf. Lepenies 2006, 56). 26Romanticism then means the right of each subject to determine the ‘circum- stances’ under which this subject would be content (Cavell 1979, 466); cf. Laugier 2015, 10-49. 27The most renowned directors here are Douglas Sirk and Rainer Werner Fassbinder. Beyond Cavell’s theorising, there also exist masculine melodramas, of course; East of Eden (1955, by Elia Kazan, with James Dean) is one of the most fa- mous, with Manchester By the Sea (2016, by Kenneth Lonergan, starring Casey Af- fleck) being a more recent example. 28Aristotle 1924, 1448a & 1449a 32. 29In the following I refer to Morreal 1987, who distinguishes three theories of laughter: the superiority, incongruence and compensation theories (the last of which he prefers to call the relief or release theory). Simon Critchley 2002 rightly adds a fourth theory, the reconciliation or humour theory. Bernhard Greiner 2006, in contrast, taking up Hans Robert Jauß, works only with two basic forms of the comic, namely one superior looking down and one inferior looking up, which leads him to oversimplify the situation and at- tribute to Kant, for example, the supe- riority and not the incongruence theory, to Hegel likewise generally the superiority and not the reconciliation theory, and to Nietzsche (or more precisely the Nietzsche in The Gay Science) simply the basic in- feriority form (cf. 2f., 92, 98). 30Cf. Hoggett 2002, 114. 31Cited in Critchley 2002, 87. 32Greiner 2006, 5; on the principle of double levels of meaning as the principle of theatre, Greiner refers to theorists such as Umberto Eco and Erika Fischer-Lichte. 33On the difference between the anarchic and the anarchistic – the anarchic protests against all archè (rule, principle, origin) and thus also against all hierarchies – cf. Levinas 1992, 224 (Engl. transl. from French, Otherwise Than Being, Or Beyond Essence). 34Critchley 2002, 103. 35Critchley 2002, 18, 78, with refer- ence, amongst others, to Alfred Schütz, Strukturen der Lebenswelt (80) and to Kant, sometimes explicitly (80), some- times implicitly (90); Critchley ultimately and rightly weakens the assumption of the emancipatory and politically progressive power of humour: ‘humour also indicates, or maybe just adumbrates, . . . how things might be otherwise’ (90). 36It goes without saying that the thesis arguing for the affinity of democracy for 109 Sensus and Dissensus Communis. comedy or the comical should be tested, also, in the case of film on a number of distinctive examples, from the slapstick of Jerry Lee Lewis and Eddy Murphy via The Life of Brian (1980), The Blues Broth- ers (1980), A Fish Called Wanda (1989), Men in Black (1997), The Big Lebowski (1998), The Truman Show (1998), Ocean’s Eleven (2002) up to the romantic comedies of Moonstruck (1987), When Harry Met Sally (1989), Sleepless in Seattle (1993), Email For You (1998) and a contempo- rary screwball-comedy like One Fine Day (1996). 37Cf. Cavell 1981, 192, 194-5, 198. REFERENCES Aristotle. 1924. “Poetics.” In The Works of Aristotle, edited by W.D. Ross, Volume XI. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Benhabib, Seyla. 1992. “Models of Public Space: Hannah Arendt, the Liberal Tradition, and Jürgen Habermas.” In Habermas and The Public Sphere, edited by Craig Calhoun, 73–98. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Bickford, Susan. 1996. The Dissonance of Democracy: Listening, Conflict, and Citizenship. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Bohrer, Karl Heinz. 1989. Die Kritik der Romantik. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp. Calhoun, Craig, ed. 1992. Habermas and The Public Sphere. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Cavell, Stanley. 1976. “Aesthetic Problems of Modern Philosophy.” In Must we mean what we say? A Book of Essays. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. . 1979. The Claim of Reason. Wittgenstein, Skepticism, Morality and Tragedy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. . 1981. Pursuits of Happiness. The Hollywood Comedy of Remarriage. 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Translated by Werner S. Pluhar. Indianapolis: Hackett (orig: 1790, Berlin und Libau: Lagarde und Friederich). Laugier, Sandra. 2015. “The Ordinary, Romanticism, and Democracy.” Modern Language Notes 130, no. 5 (dec). Lepenies, Wolf. 2006. The Seduction of Culture in German History. Prince- ton: Princeton University Press. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1992. Jenseits des Seins oder anders als Sein geschieht. Freiburg & München: Alber. Maydell, A. v., and R. Wiehl. 1974. Chapter Gemeinsinn of Historisches Wörterbuch der Philosophie. Basel/Stuttgart: Schwabe & Co. editor: Joachim Ritter. Morreal, John. 1987. The Philosophy of Laughter and Humour. Albany: State University of New York Press. Mouffe, Chantal. 2000. The Democratic Paradox. London/New York: Verso Books. . 2005. On the Political. London/New York: Routledge. Müller, Jan-Werner. 2016. Was ist Populismus? Berlin: Suhrkamp. Paine, Thomas. 1776. Common Sense. Rancière, Jacques. 2002. “The Aesthetic Revolution and its Outcomes. Emplotments of Autonomy and Heteronomy.” New Left Review 14:133– 151. Reid, Thomas. 1764. An Inquiry into the Human Mind, on the Principles of Common Sense. Rosenfeld, Sophia. 2011. Common Sense. A Political History. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Shaftesbury. 1709. Sensus Communis: An Essay on the Freedom of Wit and Humour. Tully, James. 1995. Strange Multiplicity: Constitutionalism in the Age of Diversity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Vico, Giambattisto. 1725. Scienza Nuova. 111 Cavell's voices The Kantian question of why we have to quarrel about matters of aesthetics Democratic common sense Comedy and democracy Laughing at the battle of the sexes 
work_mnkfkk62wbfajfb2xpxiqiezca	----	Teachers’ Understanding about the Brain in East China Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 Available online at www.sciencedirect.com ScienceDirect 1877-0428 © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of the Sakarya University doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.01.1091 * Corresponding author. Tel.: +0-000-000-0000 E-mail address: paul.howard-jones@bris.ac.uk INTE 2014 Teachers’ understanding about the brain in East China Pei, X.a, Howard-Jones, P.A.b* , Zhang, S.a, Liu, X.c, Jin, Y.a aSchool of Education Science, East China University, Shanghai, China bGraduate School of Education, University of Bristol BS5 8HZ, United Kingdom cShandong Normal University, Jinan, China Abstract Here, we report the first survey of teachers’ ideas about the brain in East China (N=238), aimed at identifying the prevalence of “neuromyths” thought to detract from effective classroom practice. Analysis identified many neuromyths popular in Europe (e.g. value in teaching to learning styles, left-brained or right-brained learners and in using only 10% of the brain). However, some important differences with the European data also emerged (e.g. greater belief in the importance of attention and avoiding emotional disruption of thought). An inverse relationship between favouring genetic influence and a belief in a biological limit to student achievement was also observed. © 2014 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Peer-review under responsibility of the Sakarya University. Keywords: Brain; neuroscience; neuromyth; China; genetics 1. Introduction A global field of enterprise is developing around attempts to bridge the gap between education and neuroscience. Formal organised initiatives to build bridges between neuroscience and education are so recent that their many progenitors are still settling on a name for this enterprise, with “Brain, Mind and Education”, “Neuroeducation” and “Educational Neuroscience” all currently contending. Efforts in the last decade have included a supranational project on “Learning Sciences and Brain Research” by the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD)’s Centre for Educational Research and Innovation (CERI) from 1999 to 2006, and the formation of the International Mind Brain and Education Society in the US which launched its journal “Mind, Brain and Education” in 2007. A second journal “Trends in neuroscience and education” was launched last year. Research centres © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of the Sakarya University http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.01.1091&domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.01.1091&domain=pdf 3682 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 combining neuroscience and education are springing up around the world, often associated with popular postgraduate courses. East China Normal University (Shanghai) has now opened its centre in Educational Neuroscience and this year, supported by the OECD and UNESCO, the School of Education Science at East China University hosted the International Convention on Science of Learning. Here, global and local experts in education mingled with neuroscientists to discuss news forward in developing a new scientific basis for educational practice. Given the current Western interest in the high-performance (PISA) of schools in cities such as Shanghai, such initiatives in the East may have global political significance. However, as the dialogue increases between neuroscience and education, there is a growing concern about the prevalence of neuromyths in many schools. In 2002, OECD defined “neuromyth” as “a misconception generated by a misunderstanding, a misreading, or a misquoting of facts scientifically established” (OECD, 2002). These myths are related to the practices of teachers and are often promoted by brain-based programmes and books marketed to teachers that are intended to inform their teaching strategies. There is good reason, therefore, to consider these misunderstandings contribute to poor practice in the classroom. Studies have found high levels of neuromyths amongst teachers in the UK, Netherlands, Portugal, Brazil, China and Turkey. Beyond the impact of commercial brain-based programmes in promoting myths, it seems likely that cultural contexts will influence the types of myth that become prevalent in a particular country. Neuromyths may provide the opportunity for our biases to distort scientific fact and create misunderstandings about the brain that become popular. However, given that different cultural forces and biases exist amongst the peoples of different nations, it cannot be assumed that the prevalence of all neuromyths will be the same across international boundaries. For example, only half of the UK population report any affiliation with any religion(Park, Clery, Curtice, Philips, & Utting, 2012) and here, only 15% of trainee teachers believed that the mind results from the spirit, or the soul, acting on the brain (Howard-Jones et al., 2009). The people of Greece, however, have notably high religious involvement. High levels of religiosity characterize a large proportion of the Greek people (Hirschon, 2009) and the majority of this population are Christian Orthodox. Here, 72% agreed with the statement that “The mind is the result of the action of the spirit, or of the soul, on the brain”. Here, we report the first survey of neuromyths amongst teachers in China, using a questionnaire used to assess levels of misunderstandings about the brain in Europe. 2. Method 2.1. Participants Participants were 238 primary, secondary and high school teachers recruited in Shanghai, Shandong, Jiangsu and Zhejiang provinces. 2.2. Procedure The translation and suitability of the survey was first validated through preliminary interviews and piloting with teachers not included in the final survey sample. The research was presented as a study of how teachers think about the brain and its influence on learning. 2.3. Instruments Participants were asked to complete a survey used in a previous study of UK trainee teachers (Howard-Jones et al., 2009). This consisted of 40 assertions (15 correct and 16 incorrect factual assertions, and 9 open to subjective opinion) to which participants were asked to respond agree, don’t know or disagree and is provided in Appendix 1. Of these 40 assertions in our survey, 38 statements were originally created by combining assertions used in a study of public neuroscience literacy (Herculano-Houzel, 2002) with ideas that have arisen in interviews with educators (see Howard-Jones et al., 2009 for further details concerning the underlying rationale for including these statements). The survey included the two additional statements of subjective opinion (“There is a biological limit to what some 3683 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 individuals can achieve in their education”, “There is no biological limit to what any individual can achieve in their education”) that Howard-Jones et al. (2009) used in a follow-up survey to explore ideas around genetic determination. Related to this issue, respondents were asked what percentage of educational outcome they attributed to a student’s genes, their educational environment and their home environment. Participants also provided background information for the purpose of characterizing the sample (type of school, years of experience, gender, age, etc.) and whether they were familiar with a range of brain-based programmes common in the US and Europe (Brain Gym, Multiple Intelligences, Learning Styles). 15 of these participants were then randomly selected for in- depth interview in which they explained their responses. 3. Results The summary of responses of our sample of teachers to our 9 statements of subjective opinion is shown in Table 1. Summaries of responses to assertions related to general knowledge and educational issues regarding the brain are shown in Tables 2 and 3. Table 1. Beliefs of our sample of teachers in East China regarding 9 statements that might be regarded as open to subjective opinion, including the mind-brain relationship, the impact of developmental difference on moral responsibility and belief in a biological limit to achievement. Response as percentage % of sample Agree Don't know Disagree The mind is the result of the action of the spirit, or of the soul, on the brain 85 11 4 State of mind is a reflection of the brain state in a given moment 82 14 4 If there are ways to study brain activity, the mind can be studied through them 60 31 9 The mind is a product of the working of the brain 88 9 3 Without a brain, consciousness is not possible 75 11 14 Intuition is a "special sense" that can’t be explained by brain 71 15 14 Individuals are not responsible for behavior associated with a developmental difference in brain function 24 20 57 There is a biological limit to what some individuals can achieve in their education 61 29 10 There is no biological limit to what any individual can achieve in their education 27 25 48 3684 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 Table 2. Responses of our sample of teachers in East China to general assertions regarding the brain (C = correct statement, I = incorrect statement). It should be noted that some scientific evidence supporting one statement (marked C*) has recently been found, raising questions about the correctness, or otherwise, of this statement. Response as percentage % of sample Agree Don't know Disagree Brain activity depends entirely on the external environment: with no senses stimulated, we don't see, hear or feel anything (I) 34 8 57 Emotional brain processes interrupt those brain processes involved with reasoning (I) 93 4 3 Cognitive abilities are inherited and cannot be modified by the environment or by life experience (I) 8 4 88 Learning is not due to the addition of new cells to the brain (C*) 53 36 12 One's environment can influence hormone production and, in turn, personality (C) 88 12 0 We use our brains 24 hours a day (C) 57 16 27 To learn how to do something, it is necessary to pay attention to it (C). 89 3 8 Learning occurs through modification of the brain's neural connections(C) 68 29 3 Performance in activities such as playing the piano improves as a function of hours spent practicing (C) 37 7 56 It is with the brain, and not the heart, that we experience happiness, anger, and fear (C) 65 11 25 Hormones influence the body's internal state, and not their personality (I) 36 27 37 Memory is stored in the brain much like as in a computer. That is, each memory goes into a tiny piece of the brain (I) 78 16 5 We mostly only use 10% of our brain (I) 59 36 5 Memory is stored in networks of cells distributed throughout the brain (C) 53 31 16 Keeping a phone number in memory until dialing, recalling recent events & distant experiences, all use the same memory system (I) 24 44 32 When we sleep, the brain shuts down (I) 8 9 82 3685 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 Table 3. Responses of our sample of teachers in East China to assertions regarding the brain that are related to educational practice (C = correct statement, I = incorrect statement). Response as percentage % of sample Agree Don’t Know Disagree Children are less attentive after sugary drinks and snacks (I) 62 29 10 Omega 3 supplements do not enhance the mental capacity of children in the general population (C) 44 42 14 Extended rehearsal of some mental processes can change the shape and structure of some parts of the brain (C) 66 26 8 Environments that are rich in stimulus improve the brains of preschool children (I) 89 6 5 Individuals learn better when they receive information in their preferred learning style (e.g. visual, auditory, kinaesthetic) (I) 97 3 1 Short bouts of co-ordination exercises can improve integration of left and right hemispheric brain function (I) 84 13 3 Regular drinking of caffeinated soft drinks reduces alertness (C) 52 37 11 Differences in hemispheric dominance (left brain, right brain) can help explain individual differences amongst learners (I) 71 23 7 Learning problems associated with developmental differences in brain function cannot be remediated by education (I) 50 19 31 There are no critical periods in childhood after which you can't learn some things, just sensitive periods when it's easier (C) 80 7 14 Vigorous exercise can improve mental function (C) 40 15 46 Individual learners show preferences for the mode in which they receive information (e.g. visual, auditory, kinaesthetic) (C) 93 6 1 Drinking less than 6-8 glasses of water a day can cause the brain to shrink (I) 5 30 65 Exercises that rehearse co-ordination of motor-perception skills can improve literacy skills(I) 79 18 3 Production of new connections in the brain can continue into old age (C) 44 40 16 The mean percentage of educational outcome that participants attributed to genetics, home environment and school environment were 28 (SD= 16), 36 (SD=14) and 35 (SD=15) respectively. The mean percentage of educational outcome attributed to genetics that participants who agreed (N=140) and disagreed (N=23) with the statement “There is a biological limit to what some individuals can achieve in their education” was 29% (SD 16%) and 22% (SD 12%) respectively. An independent samples one-tailed t-test revealed this difference to be significant (t(161)=1.84, p=0.033). The mean percentage of educational outcome attributed to genetics that participants who agreed (N=62) and disagreed (N=110) with the statement “There is no biological limit to what any individual can achieve in their education” was 23% (SD 11%) and30% (SD 16%) respectively. An independent samples one-tailed 3686 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 t-test revealed this difference to be significant (t(169)=3.01, p=0.001). The percentage of teachers who were familiar with Brain Gym, Multiple Intelligences, Learning Styles were 6%, 61%, and 53% respectively. 4. Discussion The research revealed that teachers in East China held many neuromyths and misconceptions about the brain that have been recorded elsewhere in Europe. These include almost three-quarters (71%) of teachers (compared with 91% and 86% in UK and Netherlands, Dekker et al. (2012)) believing that differences in hemispheric dominance (left brain, right brain) can help explain individual differences amongst learners, and the great majority (97%) believing in the effectiveness of teaching to learning styles (compared with 93% and 96% in UK and Netherlands respectively). However, there were also appeared to be some differences between responses of teachers in our sample and those collated in previous studies elsewhere. For example, fewer teachers (only 40%) in East China appeared enthusiastic about the potential for vigorous exercise to improve mental function, compared with 65% teachers in Greece, 63% of UK trainee teachers. However, this result may need to be treated with caution. Through our interviews with teachers, it became apparent that vigorous exercise was being interpreted as meaning a highly repetitive task rather than aerobic physical activity. This points to difficulties we encountered in translating the language and concepts used in our survey which designed for Western teachers. This process of translation creates many opportunities for both linguistic and cultural misunderstandings. Indeed, a high number of teachers in East China were enthusiastic about co-ordination exercises improving integration of left and right hemispheric brain function (84%), and about exercises aimed at motor-perception skills improving literacy (79%). These figures, respectively, are similar to and sometimes higher than those from surveys in European countries. They can be compared, respectively, with 88% and 78% for UK teachers and 82%, 63% for teachers in the Netherlands (Dekker et al. 2012), or 65%, 35% for trainee UK teachers and 56%, 72% for teachers in Greece(Deligiannidi and Howard-Jones, 2014). Popularity in these other countries has been attributed to programmes such as Brain Gym, but in our sample of teachers in East China, only 6% were familiar with this programme. Some insights into the popularity of physical exercise arose from the interviews, in which 6 teachers offered rationales to justify their enthusiasm for it. Two teachers explained in terms of oxygen provision to the brain, two teachers in terms of improved attentional abilities, and another recounted his observations that coordination skills in sport (e.g. basketball) appeared associated with literacy skills. Another teacher referred to her own tendency to walk around when learning a foreign language, and also to the film Akeelah and the Bee in which Akeelah remembers her spellings better while skipping with a rope. It may be that programmes such as Brain Gym exploit a popular association between exercise and learning that already exists in many cultures. Compared with UK trainee teachers, teachers in East China appear more enthusiastic about attention (89% believe “To learn how to do something, it is necessary to pay attention to it” compared with 43% in the UK) and less enthusiastic about emotion in reasoning (93% believe “Emotional brain processes interrupt those brain processes involved with reasoning” compared with 69% in the UK). These may reflect genuine cultural differences. For example, while the Western media is fascinated with the idea of multitasking, there is an old Chinese saying that “a man cannot spin and weave at the same time”. In terms of attitudes to emotion, European American individuals have been shown to value high-arousal positive affect (e.g., excitement) more than do Hong Kong Chinese, while Hong- Kong Chinese value low-arousal positive affect (e.g., calm) more than do European American individuals (Tsai et al., 2006). The American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson (1841/2000, p262) believed that “Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm,” while the Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu (6th century; as cited in Cleary 1989, p2) believed “If people can be clear and calm, heaven and earth will come to them.” The fact that 50% of our sample of teachers from East China agreed that “Learning problems associated with developmental differences in brain function cannot be remediated by education” can be interpreted in a number of ways. It appears considerably higher than the 9% of UK trainee teachers (Howard-Jones, et al., 2009), or 16% of UK teachers and 19% of Dutch teachers in the Dekker et al. (2012) study. This may reflect differences in how the phrase “Learning problems” is interpreted compared with participants in these other studies. That is, it may communicate more problematic disorders (e.g. amentia) than those it may associate itself with amongst European teachers (e.g. dyslexia). Alternatively, it may suggest teachers in East China consider the brain is less plastic than those in Europe. 3687 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 In either respect, further research on this topic may be illuminating and helpful in understanding different cultural attitudes towards the brain and learning disorders. We also believe the somewhat contrary results we derived for opinions with regard to the mind-brain relationship also point towards the need for further research. Our current results suggest 85% of Chinese teachers believe “The mind is the result of the action of the spirit, or of the soul, on the brain” but at the same time 88% believe “The mind is a product of the working of the brain”. However, in Chinese, this first statement used words without religious association for spirit, or soul. This resulted in there being little potential conflict between these statements. Further research is planned that is intended to disentangle beliefs of teachers more carefully regarding the mind-brain relationship. Our finding that there was a relationship between belief in genetic influence and a diminished sense of student’s potential (or a biological limit to their achievement) emphasises the potential importance of teachers gaining a better understanding of neurodevelopment and genetics. There is increasing scientific and media interest in the role of genetics in education, but if these messages are misinterpreted then our results suggest this will influence the attitudes of teachers in the classroom. 5. Conclusions and recommendations In summary, since many of the myths and ideas we report here are directly related to practice, we conclude that the knowledge and practice of teachers in East China would benefit from more accurate knowledge of the brain, as might be received from teacher training and in-service professional development. This may be an important first step for future efforts in China to enrich education with insights from neuroscience. Comparison of our results with international data sets suggests cultural factors influence teachers’ understanding of the brain, and better understanding of these factors would be a valuable target area for future research. 3688 X. Pei et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 174 ( 2015 ) 3681 – 3688 Appendix A. The complete set of statements used in the questionnaire. Participants were asked to indicate their agreement with these statements as agree, don’t know or disagree. The mind is the result of the action of the spirit, or of the soul, on the brain “State of mind” is a reflection of the brain state in a given moment If there are ways to study brain activity, the mind can be studied through them The mind is a product of the working of the brain Without a brain, consciousness is not possible Intuition is a “special sense” that cannot be explained by the brain Individuals are not responsible for behavior associated with a developmental difference in brain function There is a biological limit to what some individuals can achieve in their education There is no biological limit to what any individual can achieve in their education One’s environment can influence hormone production and, in turn, personality (C) We use our brains 24 hours a day (C) To learn how to do something, it is necessary to pay attention to it (C). Learning occurs through modification of the brain’s neural connections(C) Performance in activities such as playing the piano improves as a function of hours spent practicing (C) It is with the brain, and not the heart, that we experience happiness, anger, and fear (C) Hormones influence the body’s internal state, and not their personality (I) Memory is stored in the brain much like as in a computer. That is, each memory goes into a tiny piece of the brain (I) Memory is stored in networks of cells distributed throughout the brain (C) Keeping a phone number in memory until dialing, recalling recent events & distant experiences, all use the same memory system (I) When we sleep, the brain shuts down (I) Learning is not due to the addition of new cells to the brain (C*) Brain activity depends entirely on the external environment: with no senses stimulated, we don’t see, hear or feel anything (I) Emotional brain processes interrupt those brain processes involved with reasoning (I) Cognitive abilities are inherited and cannot be modified by the environment or by life experience (I) We mostly only use 10% of our brains (I) Children are less attentive after sugary drinks and snacks (I) Omega 3 supplements do not enhance children’s mental capacity in the general population (C) Environments that are rich in stimulus improve the brains of preschool children (I) References Cleary, T. (1989). The book of balance and harmony: A Taoist handbook. Boston: Shambhala Publications. Dekker, S., Lee, N. C., Howard-Jones, P. & Jolles, J. (2012) Neuromyths in education, Frontiers in Psychology 3. Deligiannidi, K. and Howard-Jones, P. A. The neuroscience literacy of teachers in Greece, Proceedings of INTE-14, Paris France. Emerson, R. W. (2000). Essays: First series. In B. Atkinson (Ed.), The essential writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York: Modern Library. Herculano-Houzel, S., (2002) . Do You Know Your Brain? A Survey on Public Neuroscience Literacy The Neuroscientist, 8(2), 98-110 Hirschon, R. (2009) in When God Comes to Town: Anthropological Perspectives eds R. Pixten & L. Dikomitis, Berghan, p 3-16. Howard-Jones, P. A., Franey, L., Mashmoushi, R. & Liao, Y.-C. (2009) The Neuroscience Literacy of Trainee Teachers, at the British Educational Research Association Annual Conference (http://www.leeds.ac.uk/educol/documents/185140.pdf). OECD (2002). Understanding the Brain: Towards a New Learning Science. OECD, Paris: OECD. Park, A., Clery, E., Curtice, J., Philips, M. & Utting, D. (2012) British Social Attitudes 28. (National Centre for Social Research, London. Tsai, J. L., Knutson, B. & Fung, H. H. (2006) Cultural variation in affect valuation. J. Pers. Soc. Psychol. 90, 288-307. 
work_mpveantapbfhdhzxiwkaq64tuy	----	2017 National Society of Genetic Counselors Presidential Address: Do Something that Scares You EDITORIAL 2017 National Society of Genetic Counselors Presidential Address: Do Something that Scares You Mary E. Freivogel1 Received: 2 November 2016 /Accepted: 9 November 2016 /Published online: 21 November 2016 # National Society of Genetic Counselors, Inc. 2016 2017 National Society of Genetic Counselors Presidential Address Do one thing every day that scares you. Think about it. Every day. Something that scares you. Wow! Really? That’s a lot of scary stuff. I know what you are thinking. I’m not sure that I really have time to fit all those scary things into my schedule which, given that I am a typical genetic counselor, is already chock full of doing my job, as well as the jobs of at least 2 other individuals, and volunteering to be the manager of my son’s soccer team and president of the PTO, and writing a manuscript, and a newsletter article, and serving as moderator of a sup- port group at our hospital, and going the extra mile to be supportive to people that I care about.… Maybe, just maybe, I could fit a scary thing in between 5:05 pm and 5:13 pm. Maybe. But it would be so much easier to play it safe. I’m comfortable that way. My goal for the next 30 min is to challenge you to WANT to be scared. Because we cannot be brave if we are not scared. Courage cannot exist without fear. So… I’ll say it again: Do one thing every day that scares you. I love this quote. Absolutely love it. I’m not sure why but it speaks to me. Especially lately. In my current position at Invision Sally Jobe (a large outpatient imaging organization in the Denver metro area), the last few years have been some- what of a whirlwind as I’ve been propelled from being a clinical genetic counselor to managing a team of about 20 individuals and overseeing the development and growth of our clinical service lines, which include things like MRI, CT, and musculoskeletal ultrasound. I was absent the day they taught us about those subjects in genetic counseling training so, needless to say, it’s been a significant learning curve for me. Although I am still closely involved with our Genetic Services team, who I treasure immensely, I am pulled in many directions and I’m called upon to do things I’ve never done before… things I never dreamed I would be doing but, at the same time, things I love to do because they challenge me. And scare me. And make my heart beat more quickly. And make me sweat a little. Yet, at the same time, make me feel like I’m growing in monumental ways. When I am tempted to shy away from a task, I remind myself that this is something that scares me. And I should do it. Because it will make me better. This quote is typically attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt but, funny enough, that’s not actually the case. I’d like to share a bit about the rich history of this phrase. The theme began in the nineteenth century when Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote the following in his essay entitled BHeroism^: Always do what you are afraid to do (p. 262). The concept was revisited again by Jane Addams, who was a social reformer in Chicago and received a Nobel Peace Prize in 1931. She referenced this quote in the late 1800’s and again in 1931 in BBoys’ Life^ magazine: Every day you are placed in some situation that definite- ly tests you… Almost every step of progress that you make will be in the face of difficulty and discourage- ment. But don’t let it beat you! Always do what you are afraid to do (p. 22). * Mary E. Freivogel mefreivogel@gmail.com 1 Invision Sally Jobe, 8200 E Belleview Ave, #200E, Greenwood Village, CO 80130, USA J Genet Counsel (2017) 26:1–5 DOI 10.1007/s10897-016-0048-5 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s10897-016-0048-5&domain=pdf In 1960, Eleanor Roosevelt picked up on this topic. She wrote about it then and again in the 1980’s in her book called BYou Learn by Living: Eleven Keys for a More Fulfilling Life^: You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face… You must do the thing you think you cannot do (p. 25). Finally, an exact match for the quote appeared in 1997 and is attributed to Mary Schmich, a columnist for the Chicago Tribune who wrote an essay targeted at young students that mimicked a graduation speech. She said: Do one thing every day that scares you (p. 4C). Some of you might remember that this essay was adapted into a popular spoken-word song in the 1990’s titled BEverybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)^ by the film director Baz Luhrmann… this quotation was included in the lyrics. Obviously, I wanted to share a story with you about a time that I did something that scared me. I feel like you expect me to tell you something related to my career or genetic counsel- ing or my work with NSGC. So I’m going a different direc- tion. Just to keep you all on your toes. I run. I run a lot. Not as much as I used to but I do enough to keep my sanity in check. Funny enough, my genetic counsel- ing career led me to discover my love of this incredible sport. When I began my work at Invision Sally Jobe, I discovered a pretty amazing organization called Bright Pink. I met wonder- ful, amazing, inspirational people. Some of these were young women with a BRCA gene mutation and two of them asked me to run the Chicago Marathon with them in 2012 to raise money for Bright Pink. I hadn’t ever run before but I figured it would be a cool thing to check off my bucket list. As I started training, I realized how much I loved running. I ran the Chicago Marathon in 3 h and 26 min and qualified for the Boston Marathon. I was in Boston on April 15th, 2013 and I thank my lucky stars each and every day that I crossed the finish line about an hour before the terrible events that oc- curred that day. I was preparing to celebrate when the news emerged. My cell phone began to buzz like crazy with loved ones asking if my husband and I were safe and sound. I decided to return to Boston in 2014 to run again. Fueled by some pretty crazy emotions, I was determined to work really hard and to see what I could do with the proper training. A good friend, who excels in ultramarathons, offered to coach me and talked me into training Bjust a bit more^ for Boston so that I could run a 50 K a couple of weeks afterwards. That’s about 31 miles. As many miles as Baskin Robbins has flavors. Yeah. You want to talk about something that scares you? That scared the hell out of me. So I trained harder than I’ve ever trained. And I returned to Boston. And I ran the marathon in 3 h and 21 min, which was a personal record. And two weeks later, I drove a little bit south of my house to Larkspur, Colorado and I ran 31 miles. And it was hard. And I wanted to quit. Thirty-one miles is a long way, no matter how you look at it. The course was a looped course, meaning I ran 4 laps of about 8 miles each. I thought this would make it easier but it was pretty horrible. Each time I rounded the loop, I ran right… past… my… car. With each lap, I was more and more tempted to give up and exit the course and go straight to the comfort of my Volkswagen Passat and drive home. I ran the first lap pretty quickly… so quickly that I passed the loop before my husband and kids arrived. But I did see them the second time around, which always warms my heart. I ate some potato chips and drank some Gatorade and got some hugs before they headed off to soccer games. After the 3rd lap, my brother was there cheering me on. I asked him BAre you going to stick around?^ He said BOf course! I wouldn’t miss seeing you finish.^ I died a little inside at that moment as I realized that, if he stayed, I really had to finish this thing. I couldn’t escape to the parking lot. As painful as it was, I had to be brave and get started on that 4th lap. I dug deep. Mentally. Physically. Spiritually. By that time, I knew the course pretty well, which honestly made things harder. There were no surprises. Nothing to distract me. I knew what was coming. I knew when I would be climbing hills and I dreaded them. I knew when I would be descending, which was wreaking hav- oc on my quads by that time. I knew that the shirtless guy in a kilt who had been running with me on and off during the entire race would continue to try to make conversation with me and I honestly wished he would spontaneously combust so I didn’t have to listen to him anymore. But I pushed through. And I finished. And I cried. Hard. And I hugged my brother and thanked him for being the primary reason I finished the race. And of all the medals I have, of which many are colorful and ornate and distinctive, my favorite is the medal from the Greenland 50 K, which is incredibly unassuming with its’ simple black ribbon and round shape. I finished in 4 h and 56 min, which was good enough for 4th place female overall out of a total of 47 women who were crazy enough to sign up for this daunting task. I was proud. Damn proud. I drank a cold Diet Pepsi and sat down to give my shaking legs a rest. It felt really good to finally get into my Volkswagen Passat that I had passed so many times that day. I headed to a craft beer festival with my friends for the afternoon and finally landed at a bar where I ate my weight in fried cheese… because that’s what you do after you run 31 miles! I finished 2014 by running both the Chicago and New York marathons in the fall, which were also about 2 weeks apart. It 2 Freivogel was a monumental year and one that I will never forget. Was it hard? Absolutely. Was I missing toenails? Yes! Half of them. Was I scared? Yes… countless times along the way. Was it worth it? Words cannot express how extremely Bworth it^ it was. By pushing myself, I realized that I could do things I never imagined I could do. I began to see my potential differ- ently than I had before. I raised my expectations of myself, not only with regards to running but in other parts of my life as well. I am reminded of this T.S. Eliot quote every time I put a bib into the book that holds one for each race that I’ve done (from the Preface to Harry Crosby, Transit of Venus in 1931): Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go (p. ix). I definitely risked going too far in 2014 but, to my surprise, I discovered that I had the potential to go further than I ever dreamed if I was willing to push myself. I can’t help but think that the courage that I found within myself in my running in 2014 played a key role in early 2015 when I was offered a 3rd nomination for the NSGC presidency. I struggled because, having been let down twice before that, I was tempted NOT to try again. As we all know, it’s difficult NOT to be chosen for some- thing you really want. And it’s easy to become compla- cent and say BWell… it just wasn’t meant to be.^ But in my heart and soul, I knew that this role was something I wanted and although I feared that 3rd rejection, I was more fearful of the possibility of wondering what would’ve hap- pened had I tried again. So I swallowed my pride and sum- moned my bravery and threw my name in the hat (again!) for the 3 year term as NSGC President. When Jen Hoskovec called me to tell me I was slated, I was ecstatic. And relieved. And grateful. And, funny enough, I was scared. This was something I had wanted for many years and I was so frightened that I wouldn’t be chosen. Yet now that I had been chosen, I was petrified. And, I won’t lie… standing up here at this moment? Still ridiculously terrifying. But, regardless of how scared I am, it’s humbling to be here today and as we celebrate the 35th anniversary of our AEC, I can’t help but reflect on and draw inspiration from the incred- ible leaders who have held the role of NSGC President in the past. Obviously, I have big shoes to fill and I have heartfelt gratitude to those who wore them before me. In order to prepare for this speech, I asked past Presidents to tell me about a time when they did something that scared them. I would like to share some of their stories in hopes that they will inspire you to be brave, as they did me. Angie Trepanier described a time when she was brave in the face of conflict and initiated an honest conversation about a problem in the workplace, knowing that she might be opening herself up to potential criticism. When the criticism came, Angie accepted responsibility for things she could’ve done better but objectively stated what she had done well. She was an advocate for herself while, at the same time, listening to other perspectives and reflecting on what she heard. Liz Kearney told me about a time when she wrote a funny poem as a farewell for a colleague at work. She read it with shaking hands and knees at the going away party, worried that people would think it was silly. To her surprise, everyone loved it. It provided inspiration and positively impacted her team. Liz reflected BAs we gain more skills and experience as professionals, it becomes harder and harder to truly challenge ourselves and easier to remain complacent. If we are commit- ted to life-long learning, we must more actively seek those opportunities to be scared.^ Jehannine Austin, who has been an amazing mentor to me over the past year, described her experience with creating her own job in a brand new discipline immediately upon graduating with her genetic counseling degree. She did this against all the advice that she received from people around her because it felt like the right thing to do and she wanted to be true to herself rather than living her life to meet other’s expectations. She describes this experience as Bterrifying but also necessary.^ During his NSGC presidency, Ed Kloza navigated genetic counselors through a very tumultuous time when ABGC was seeking recognition by the American Board of Medical Specialties, which would require it to divest itself of all non-doctoral members. All genetic counselors certified by the ABMG would have to be removed from membership. Ed told me: BThis needed to go to a vote of the ABMG membership, where counselors were the majority. We could have vetoed the move and remained with ABMG, a stance taken by many GC diplomates (and many doctoral level supporters), but I did not want genetic counselors to be accused of preventing the growth and recognition of medical genetics. That would be a tough burden to bear and would not bode well for our profes- sion and our relationship with MD geneticists. I strongly en- dorsed our split with the ABMG, knowing that if we were on our own there was the possibility that the profession would falter, but I felt confident that we had matured to the point that it was time to stand on our own two feet, that we were strong and healthy enough to survive, and even thrive, if we were self-reliant.^ Barb Biesecker feared taking on the NSGC presidency while pregnant with her first child and working a job that required long hours. However, she learned the power of delegation and came to appreciate the value of an effective team. These skills allowed her to advance in her career. BI learned that being scared can be a good thing as it suggests you are taking your work seriously, striving to do a good job and not settling.^ Do Something that Scares You 3 During her presidency, Deb Doyle led the controversial and polarized discussion around separating the NSGC AEC from the ASHG meetings. And when Brenda Finucane was President, she played a key role in a pivotal decision about pursuing a clinical doctorate as the terminal degree for genetic counselors. Ginny Corson was scared in the late 1990’s when she was the President of ABGC and took the lead on negotiating a new contract for the certification exam with the President of ABMG. She prepared well, with the help of the ABGC board members, but was anxious and intimidated. Kathy Schneider candidly shared her experience lobbying for genetic counseling licensure in DC on the morning of September 11th, 2001 and the subsequent terrifying evacua- tion of the building and her journey to get back to her family in Boston, which involved sharing a rental car with three strangers. She was impressed with the acts of kindness and compassion that took place and how resilient people can be in the face of adversity. In the same year, Karin Dent was called upon to present an abstract about Utah’s successful licensure bill at the ASHG meeting when a colleague was unable to attend the meeting. Public speaking was, and still is, one of Karin’s greatest fears but she secretly wanted to prove to herself that, even though she was only 3 years out of genetic counseling school, she could do this presentation, she could do it well, and she could be proud of her accomplishment. Wendy Uhlmann was courageous, along with Diane Baker and Jane Schuette, when they co-edited the very first book on genetic counseling, which would be used to train students internationally. Although this group had the background from their years of teaching and training GC students at the University of Michigan, they had never worked on a book before and had limited publications. They relied on a team of experts to write chapters and published 2 editions of this book, the second of which included Beverly Yashar as a co- editor. Steve Keiles, in classic form, denied ever being scared. Ever. Because he is bionic, as we all know. He shared that he has made many decisions in his career that were not Bslam dunks.^ He said BThere was always a safer option, but I never really felt scared. I focused on the positive of what could be and not on the fact the timing wasn’t perfect. If we waited for the right time, it likely would never come. I would rather try and fail than fail to try. Instead of focusing on what could go wrong, what if it all went right?^ This reminds me of an amazing woman named Alison Levine who was the keynote speaker at the most recent Smith Bucklin leaders’ forum. Alison led the first American all-female expedition up Mt. Everest and has also completed the Badventure grand slam,^ which means she has climbed the highest peak on each continent and skied to both the North and South Poles. In her book, BOn the Edge,^ she recounts a lesson she learned on the mountain that has also impacted countless other areas of her life: Fear is fine, but complacency will kill you (p.83). She expands: Don’t ever beat yourself up for feeling scared or intim- idated. Fear is a natural human emotion, and it’s a strong survival instinct that keeps us alert and aware of our surroundings. But fear doesn’t have to keep us from pursuing a challenge. The real danger often comes from failing to react to shifts in the world around us… com- placency can lead to extinction, threatening our liveli- hoods and our lives (p. 83). I don’t have to tell you that the landscape of genetics and genomics is changing at a rapid pace. The roles of genetic counselors are expanding and we are being stretched in direc- tions that we never imagined. We are faced with frightening issues that may challenge our core beliefs, like population- based screening for hereditary cancer, direct-to-consumer ge- netic testing, alternative models of service delivery, workforce concerns, conflict of interest issues, collaborative partnerships with non-genetics healthcare providers, and technology that may very well someday do part of our job. We cannot shy away from these topics; rather, we must jump in with both feet and embrace the chance to drive change in the way that we feel it should be driven. We are 100 % responsible and ac- countable for ensuring our relevance in the face of great changes in our field. We cannot be complacent. We must be nimble yet resilient. We must be united by our common values. We must look challenges in the eye and address them with confidence. And we must do all of this even when we are scared because if we don’t, we risk being left behind. If we face our fears and see them as an opportunity to be brave, our profession will go further than we ever imagined. What do I want to accomplish as President in 2017? I want to push NSGC members beyond their comfort zone. I want each and every genetic counselor to feel valued for the contri- butions they make. I want to be approachable and reasonable. The thoughtful Wendy Uhlmann sent me a beautiful quote by Winston Churchill that she saw while getting her flu shot, of all places: Courage is what it takes to stand up and speak. Courage is also what it takes to sit down and listen. I stand up and speak today and I will continue to do so when necessary to ensure the longevity of our phenomenal profession. Yet, when it’s time to listen, I promise to promptly take a seat and open my mind, my ears, and my heart to ensure 4 Freivogel that I understand the needs of NSGC’s members and our pro- fession in general. I hope that my remarks today have provided you with some inspiration and I ask you to continue the conversation into 2017 and beyond. Wherever your path leads, do not lose sight of the incredible strength that you have as an individual nor the infinite resiliency that we have collectively as a profession. Final thoughts: Be brave. The more you practice the better you get. Define courage for yourself. Your courage isn’t the same as someone else’s. Don’t compare yourself to others. Rather, stretch yourself in ways that are appropriate for you. Overcoming even a minor obstacle can be addictive and can drive you to explore new ways of being courageous. Start small. Dream big. Be your own kind of brave. And when you feel your heart beating quickly and your head starting to spin, that means something really incredible is about to happen. So take a deep breath, plant your feet firmly on the ground, look your challenge straight in the eye, and do something that scares you. Acknowledgement This presidential address was edited for publication. Do Something that Scares You 5 2017 National Society of Genetic Counselors Presidential Address: Do Something that Scares You 2017 National Society of Genetic Counselors Presidential Address 
work_msxxngsrezbvbbhpydlyseqjoa	----	Transmotion Vol 5, No 2 (2019) 138 Geoff Hamilton. A New Continent of Liberty: Eunomia in Native American Literature from Occom to Erdrich. University of Virginia Press, 2019. 207 pp. ISBN: 9780813942452 https://www.upress.virginia.edu/title/5184 The critical framework that Geoff Hamilton sets up in the opening pages of his monograph, A New Continent of Liberty is an interesting one, from a heuristic standpoint. In “eunomia,” the Greek concept of an ideal, ecologically-balanced fusion of human law and natural/divine law, Hamilton puts forward a concept that allows him to chart two parallel literary histories—one “Indigenous” (comprised of major—i.e. anthologized—Native American writers from the past 200 years) and the other “Euro-American” (reflecting a conventional, white male canon of American literature). Hamilton’s sympathies here are quite clear. The Euro-American story is a familiar narrative of declension, where the American ideological commitment to “autonomy” (one might substitute here the idea of white male, liberal subjectivity) gradually disintegrates as it reveals its inability to manage its own contradictions. The parallel Indigenous literary history records a process of renewal in the wake of colonialism, culminating in a present moment where Native American writers have been able to re-assert a political, ecological, and spiritual vision that balances individual and collective needs. I realize that this overview description makes Hamilton’s book sound somewhat schematic. That is because it is, indeed, rather schematic. But there is value in this approach. Ultimately, what A New Continent of Liberty is trying to do is find a meaningful point of contact through which one might rescript a new, comprehensive “American” literary history, one that more accurately reflects the totality of voices that comprise it. In doing so, of course, Hamilton remains committed to a fairly conventional model of what constitutes literary history itself (the study of “major” authors and texts, tracing thematic through-lines across time with modest historical contextualization, etc.). This is the literary history of the undergraduate survey classroom, in other words. Recognizing those parameters allows readers to appreciate what Hamilton is able to achieve in the book (which does strike me as pedagogically useful in a number of ways) without being unduly critical of its tendency to tread rather lightly across other critical conversations. The introduction to A New Continent of Liberty promises an account of the increasing pathologization and “dysnomia” in what other critics might label “settler colonial” literature and a “revitalized understanding of eunomia” in Indigenous writing. The bulk of Hamilton’s work seeks to illuminate this contrast through the analytical pairings of texts. In a series of chapters, Hamilton juxtaposes Thomas Jefferson and Samson Occom; Ralph Waldo Emerson and William Apess; Mark Twain and Sarah Winnemucca; Ernest Hemingway and Zitkala-Ša; Joseph Heller and N. Scott Momaday; and Don Delillo, Louise Erdrich, and Gerald Vizenor. As one might imagine, some of these pairing allow for more detailed and specific comparative analysis than others. While Hamilton’s readings in Chapter 1 don’t break much significant new ground in their discrete discussions of texts, for example, it is useful to see Jefferson’s deployment of eighteenth-century aesthetic categories to support his political ideology (in Notes on the State of Virginia) read against Samson Occom’s challenging negotiation of the tensions between Indigenous communal integrity and the colonial order in his own writings. There are some arresting moments in this chapter, such as the point when Hamilton contrasts Occom’s subtly https://www.upress.virginia.edu/title/5184 David J. Carlson Review of A New Continent of Liberty 139 subversive archiving of Algonquian words with Jefferson’s very different type of imaginative taxonomy (one can imagine deploying this contrast to great effect in the classroom.) Hamilton’s distinction between the detached “specular power” implied in Emerson’s famous transparent eyeball trope and the critical-historical vision Apess presents in his “An Indian’s Looking-Glass for the White Man” is a similarly provocative and generative moment (47). At other times, though, the pairings developed in the book feel thinner, leading to chapters that read more like discrete reflections on texts than integrated analyses. The contrast between Twain and Winnemucca, for example, ultimately boils down to a distinction between Huck Finn’s individualistic commitment to negative liberty and a Paiute emphasis on collective autonomy and integrity. The readings in this case come across as valid, then, but the payoff of the comparative argument remains fairly limited and generalized. In some other cases, one wishes that Hamilton had considered incorporating supplemental frameworks and critical conversations to help deepen the connections he establishes. In reading the discussion of Hemingway and Zitkala-Ša (which focuses attention on each writer’s treatment of the impact of trauma), for example, I found myself wondering if a more developed discussion of contrasts between settler colonial and Indigenous modernisms (a subject of a fair amount of recent scholarship) might further enrich the story of dysnomia vs. eunomia driving the book. Perhaps making moves of this kind would have transformed this into a different kind of monograph and diluted the clear through-line around which Hamilton has structured his mediation. But I think the benefits of that type of complication of the argument would have outweighed the risks. In the end, Hamilton argues that one of his major goals in writing A New Continent of Liberty was to cultivate increased dialogue regarding the distinctions between Euro-American and Indigenous “conceptions of autonomy” (179). In the introduction, he notes that he prefers that term “autonomy” to “sovereignty,” viewing the former as both having an older pedigree and also better conveying the idea that “self-rule,” in its most ideal form, entails the idea that the individual and communal self is “interwoven with the earth that sustains it” (5). What comments like this reveal, of course, is that co-existing with the literary historical argument of this book is a deeper political and philosophical one, which is much more congruent with the decolonial thrust of contemporary Indigenous studies scholarship than might first appear to be the case. Once or twice in the book, Hamilton mentions in passing that he is interested in developing a “dialectical framework for understanding American literary history” (2). The subtext of his overall literary historical argument supports this, as ultimately Hamilton seems to be presenting an Indigenous nomos (or, normative universe) as the type of antithetical ideology needed to sublate and transform settler society to create a balanced and shared eunomic order. What the readings contained in the book also reveal, however (perhaps ironically at times), is that dialectical criticism must always wrestle with the danger of overgeneralization, and that dialectical transformation requires more than the mere juxtaposition of contradictions. In this regard, I find myself compelled by Hamilton’s larger project, but also wondering if the conventional structures of literary history through which he is advancing it here end up being more restrictive than he would ultimately like. The fact that Hamilton ends his book by holding up Gerald Vizenor’s particularly fluid (and dialectical) imagination as an example of how we might approach the Transmotion Vol 5, No 2 (2019) 140 reformulation of the concept of self-rule suggests to me that he is aware, himself, of the need to develop new critical forms to carry on with the work he has ably begun. David J. Carlson, California State University San Bernardino 
work_mtwqntvdjfa4fktzxwk2dbjftm	----	Neurocirurgia e filosofia no século XIX: como o pensamento da época influenciou o desenvolvimento da neurocirurgia moderna Neurosurgery and Philosophy in the 19th Century: How Modern Neurosurgery Development Relates to Past Thinking Flávio Ramalho Romero1 1Neurocirurgião, Hospital das Clínicas, Universidade Estadual de São Paulo (Unesp), Botucatu, SP, Brasil Arq Bras Neurocir 2015;34:258–262. Address for correspondence Flávio Ramalho Romero, MD, MSc, Departamento de Neurologia, Psiquiatria e Psicologia, Distrito de Rubião Júnior, s/n, Botucatu, SP, Brasil CEP: 18618-970 (e-mail: frromero@ig.com.br; romeroncr@gmail.com). Divisão de Neurocirurgia, Escola de Medicina de Botucatu, Universidade Estadual de São Paulo (Unesp), Botucatu, SP, Brasil. Introdução O século XIX foi um período marcado por importantes mudanças mundiais nos cenários político, econômico e social.1 Depois da queda do Império Francês e seus aliados nas guerras napoleônicas, o Império Britânico tornou-se a principal potência política e econômica mundial, sendo o berço da Revolução Industrial. Além disso, foi uma era de invenções e descobertas, com significante desenvolvimento – nos campos da matemática, física, química, biologia, elé- trica e metalurgia – que lançou as bases para os avanços tecnológicos do século XX. As revoluções burguesas promo- veram uma nova fase da ciência baseada na metodologia e no empirismo, desligando-a do caráter místico e artesanal dos séculos anteriores e oprimindo velhos cânones éticos do absolutismo e catolicismo.1–3 No campo das ciências médicas, o século XIX viu nascer a medicina experimental de Claude Bernard,4 a teoria de omnis cellula e cellula de Rudolf Virchow,5 a teoria da evolução das espécies de Charles Darwin6 e a genética de Gregor Mendel.7 O desenvolvimento da medicina se relacionou diretamente com a migração, superlotação das cidades e precárias Palavras-Chave ► filosofia ► século XIX ► neurocirurgia moderna ► localização cerebral Resumo O século XIX foi um período marcado por profundas mudanças sociais, políticas e econômicas que refletiram diretamente no desenvolvimento científico. Neste artigo, tenta-se estabelecer relação entre as linhas filosóficas deste período e o surgimento da neurocirurgia moderna. Keywords ► philosophy ► 19th century ► modern neurosurgery ► cerebral mapping Abstract The 19th century was a period with important social, politic and economic changes that strongly supported scientific development. In this paper, I tried to establish relationship between philosophical theories of this period and beginning of modern neurosurgery. received August 18, 2014 accepted June 12, 2015 DOI http://dx.doi.org/ 10.1055/s-0035-1559894. ISSN 0103-5355. Copyright © 2015 by Thieme Publicações Ltda, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil Historical Note | Nota Histórica THIEME 258 mailto:frromero@ig.com.br mailto:romeroncr@gmail.com http://dx.doi.org/10.1055/s-0035-1559894 http://dx.doi.org/10.1055/s-0035-1559894 condições de vida dos operários da Revolução Industrial.8 Como consequência, houve a proliferação de doenças infec- ciosas (tuberculose e sífilis) ou relacionadas à má alimenta- ção (pelagra, escorbuto e raquitismo). Tais problemas são cruciais para entender a origem da medicina social de Rudolf Virchow5 e as teorias sanitaristas de Edwin Chadwick. A mesma Revolução Industrial, junto com numerosas guerras e revoluções, gerou um desenvolvimento científico generali- zado que contribuiu com a instauração de condições técnicas para o triunfo da assepsia, anestesia e cirurgia.9–11 O conhecimento da anatomia humana e a prevenção de doenças que ocorreram no século XIX foram responsáveis pela rápida aceleração do crescimento populacional no oci- dente. A população europeia dobrou durante o século XIX, passando de cerca de 200 milhões de habitantes para mais de 400 milhões. Além disso, houve grande progresso nos meios de transporte, como a construção de ferrovias, que melhorou o modo de vida das pessoas e favoreceu os grandes movi- mentos de urbanização nos países ao redor do globo.8 Neste mesmo período, John Hunter aplicou o método experimental da ciência à cirurgia, dando nascimento à moderna cirurgia.12 Nas últimas duas décadas do século XIX, houve avanço da cirurgia em geral, mas especialmente da anestesia (Morton, 1846)13,14 e da antissepsia (Lister, 1867).15 O melhor conhecimento da anatomia e da função do sistema nervoso, com a teoria das localizações cerebrais (Broca, 1861),16–19 possibilitou o nascimento da neurocirur- gia como especialidade médica moderna, graças, principal- mente, aos pioneiros Victor Horsley e Harvey Cushing.20,21 Filosofia no Século XIX O último terço do século XVIII, tempo do Iluminismo, pro- duziu uma série de obras que desafiaram a filosofia desen- volvida até então. Immanuel Kant e Jean-Jacques Rousseau foram as figuras mais importantes desse período. A grande maioria dos filósofos do século XIX desenvolveu suas ideias sob forte influência das obras de Kant, explorando em particular o idealismo e a ética, que exibe uma tradição filosófica baseada na vontade-desejo do Ser Humano. En- quanto antes de Kant os filósofos tinham analisado, explo- rado e desenvolvido os objetos do conhecimento, os filósofos integrados na via idealística kantiana enveredaram na ma- téria do conhecimento, desenvolvendo ideias como as do ego e do eu, a mente e a consciência humana.22,23 Sigmund Freud não só constantemente recorreu a Kant, como aplicou e desenvolveu suas teorias sob forte influência kantiana. No caso Schreber (1911), Freud reporta-se ao trabalho de Kant – o modelo que encontrou na Crítica da razão pura22–observando que ambos têm ideias convergen- tes e modelos tripartidos. Enquanto Kant apresenta os ele- mentos razão, entendimento e sensibilidade, Freud trabalha os conceitos de superego, ego e id. Tanto Kant como Freud afirmam que “algo” (alguma coisa) pode ser ou tornar-se consciente somente se for descrito, captado através da linguagem.24 Porém, em resposta a estes pensamentos, surgiram inú- meros absolutistas como Johann Gottlieb Fichte, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von Schelling e Ralph Waldo Emerson, cujas ideias formaram a base do movimento conhecido como Romancismo, que buscou combinar a racionalidade formal do passado com um maior e mais imediato senso emocional e orgânico do mundo. O primeiro transformou o idealismo crítico de Kant em um idealismo absoluto, transformando o idealismo como última e máxima realidade. Para Fichte, o mundo foi criado por um ego absoluto, que no início apenas tinha consciência de si próprio. À medida que a criação se desenvolvia, tomava conhecimento do não eu, podendo distinguir as variedades contidas no mundo. Para ele, a vontade humana não é mais do que uma manifestação parcial do “eu” que concede aos seres a liberdade de agir. Ideias fundamentais que reluzem esta mudança apresentam-se na Evolução, como postulada por Goethe, Erasmus Darwin e Charles Darwin.25–27 Por outro lado, o filósofo alemão George Wilhelm Frie- drich Hegel desenvolveu um sistema metafísico racionalista, historicista e absolutista, baseado na doutrina de que “o pensamento e o ser são o mesmo”, e de que a natureza é a manifestação de um “Espírito Absoluto”. Sob forte influência de Kant e Schelling, Hegel desenvolveu um sistema de idealismo absoluto, criando uma nova concepção da lógica e dos métodos filosóficos. A distinção de Hegel entre o irreconhecível e o desconhecido pode ser vista como o alicerce do seu sistema racional do universo.28–31 Este filósofo acreditava que a verdade absoluta, ou reali- dade, não só existe, como também que a mente humana é altamente capacitada para entender tudo através do conhe- cimento, porque “tudo o que é real é racional”. Com base nestas ideias, Hegel desenvolveu um método em que as ideias em conflito se resolvem através de tríades em vários níveis. Cada tríade envolve a Tese (ideia ou movimento formador do primeiro estágio), a Antítese (opositora ao estágio anterior) e a Síntese (combina os elementos dos dois primeiros estágios opostos e permite concluir um novo e superior arranjo). Desta forma, a Síntese torna-se a Tese da tríade seguinte, e assim por diante.28–31 Este processo sem fim permite progredir até o Ideal, e dado a profundidade deste sistema dialético, o filósofo apela para que esse sistema deva ser aplicado a todos os campos do conhecimento, tanto na ciência como nas letras e nas artes.30 Portanto, consideram-se estas ideias fundamentais para o desenvolvimento científico baseado no empirismo e na metodologia, contribuindo diretamente para o desenvolvi- mento das ciências médicas e, consequentemente, da neu- rocirurgia moderna. Na época a que nos reportamos, as discussões históricas de Hegel possuíam uma força inegável porque continham como contraforte a filosofia política e social mais tarde desenvolvida por Karl Marx (1818-1883), pensador revolu- cionário alemão que, juntamente com Friedrich Engels, fundou a base do comunismo moderno.32,33 Outras importantes mentes do século XIX que merecem destaque são34–36: • Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860) – idealista alemão que atribuiu à vontade um lugar de destaque em sua Arquivos Brasileiros de Neurocirurgia Vol. 34 No. 3/2015 Neurocirurgia e filosofia no século XIX Romero 259 metafísica. Principal expoente do pessimismo; rejeitava o idealismo absoluto e pregava que a única atitude susten- tável está na completa indiferença a um mundo irracional. Afirmava que o ideal maior é a negação do querer-viver. • Auguste Comte (1798-1857) – francês; fundador do po- sitivismo, um sistema que negava a metafísica transcen- dente e afirmava que a “divindade e o homem são um só”, que o altruísmo é o dever maior do homem e que os princípios científicos explicam todos os fenômenos. • Ludwig Feuerbach (1804-1872) – alemão; argumentava que a religião é uma projeção da natureza humana. Influenciou Marx. • John Stuart Mill (1806-1873) – expoente inglês do utili- tarismo; distinguia-se de Bentham ao reconhecer dife- renças na qualidade e quantidade de prazer. Sobre a liberdade (1859) é seu mais famoso trabalho. • Soren Kierkgaard (1813-1855) – existencialista religioso dinamarquês cujo pensamento é a base do existencia- lismo moderno (ateísta). Pregava que a realidade residia apenas na existência e que o indivíduo possuía um valor singular. • Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) – evolucionista inglês; sua “filosofia sintética” interpretava todos os fenômenos de acordo com o princípio do progresso evolucionário. (O ser humano teria que evoluir e respeitar as leis dentro de uma sociedade, e de acordo com a necessidade exigida pela maior parte dessa sociedade.) • Charles S. Peirce (1839-1914) – físico e matemático norte- americano, fundador da escola filosófica chamada de “pragmatismo”. Considerava a “lógica” a base da filosofia e entendia que o critério de uma crença é dado por suas consequências práticas. • William James (1842-1910) – psicólogo e pragmatista norte-americano; afirmava que a realidade está sempre no “fazer-se” e que cada um deveria escolher a filosofia mais adequada a si próprio. • Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844-1900) – alemão; afir- mava que a “vontade de poder” é básica na vida e que o espontâneo é preferível ao metódico. Atacou o “cristia- nismo”, principalmente, por ser um sistema que apoiava os fracos, enquanto o valor maior pertence ao “além-do- homem”. Foi um extraordinário poeta e romancista e é um dos mais influentes filósofos modernos. Por motivos de saúde, renunciou a um cargo em uma universidade na Suíça, em 1879, e passou a década seguinte escrevendo suas principais obras, no ritmo de um livro por ano. Sua existência criativa terminou em um colapso mental em 1889. Após sua morte, em 1900, sua irmã Elizabeth Foerster deliberadamente desvirtuou seus pensamentos com objetivos nacionalistas e antissemitas. O Surgimento da Neurocirurgia Moderna A trepanação é uma prática ancestral que remonta à Idade da Pedra. A razão pela qual o homem pré-histórico a realizava sempre foi tema de grandes debates. Alguns pesquisadores acreditam que fazia parte de rituais religiosos; outros de- fendem sua finalidade médica, como forma primitiva da neurocirurgia que conhecemos hoje.37,38 Porém, somente durante o século XIX foi possível o desenvolvimento de subsídios que sustentaram o nascimento da neurocirurgia moderna. O pensamento científico baseado na metodologia e no empirismo, quando aplicado às ciências médicas, trouxe grandes avanços nas áreas de assepsia e anestesia, bem como no conhecimento anatômico do sistema nervoso.30 O primeiro relato histórico de intervenção cirúrgica com anestesia geral data de 1846, no anfiteatro cirúrgico do Massachusetts General Hospital, em Boston, pelo cirurgião John Collin Waren, que realizou a exérese de um tumor no pescoço do paciente Gilbert Abbot, utilizando éter etílico.13 Nos anos seguintes, novos agentes foram desenvolvidos e utilizados. Ao óxido nítrico e ao éter seguiu-se o clorofórmio, utilizado pela primeira vez em 1847 durante um trabalho de parto, pelo médico inglês James Simpson. Em 1930 foi intro- duzido o ciclopropano, e em 1956, o halotanos.13,14 A partir daí, houve grande avanço nas técnicas anestésicas e na neuroanestesia. O conhecimento dos microrganismos e das técnicas de assepsia e antissepsia tiveram no século XIX seu apogeu. Os trabalhos de Semmelwells (1846), Lister (1865) e Pasteur (1870) trouxeram enorme contribuição no conhecimento de agentes causadores de processos infecciosos, que eram grande complicadores dos atos cirúrgicos até então.15 A partir daí, Neuber (1882) introduziu o avental cirúrgico; Hasteld (1889), a luva de borracha; Schimmelbush (1891), a padronização da assepsia das mãos; e Radecki (1896), o uso de máscaras durante o ato cirúrgico, contribuindo para a redução da taxa de infecções em pacientes cirúrgicos.39 No início do século XIX houve um crescente interesse pela localização das funções cerebrais. Neste momento, surgiu a frenologia, que é o estudo da estrutura do crânio, de modo a determinar o caráter das pessoas e a sua capacidade mental. Esta pseudociência baseia-se na hipótese de que as faculda- des mentais estão localizadas em “órgãos” cerebrais na superfície do crânio, que podem ser detectados por sua inspeção visual. O físico vienense Franz-Joseph Gall afirmou existirem 26 “órgãos” na superfície do cérebro que afetam o contorno do crânio, incluindo um “órgão da morte”, presente em assassinos. Sem dúvida, a teoria da frenologia foi impor- tante por sugerir uma base científica para esta possibilidade, mas era baseada em inferências falhas, e não no método científico.40,41 Gall foi expulso de Viena pelas autoridades políticas e religiosas e mudou-se para Paris, onde solicitou ingresso na Academia Francesa de Ciências. Episódio curioso foi a interferência de Napoleão Bonaparte junto à academia para estabelecer uma comissão científica que julgasse o pedido de Gall. Este, porém, não apresentou seu já conhecido polêmico trabalho sobre os “órgãos da mente”, mas sim um estudo sobre anatomia do cérebro, que era de classe interna- cional. Desta forma, seu pedido de ingresso junto à academia foi negado. Porém, coube a Pierre Flourens, renomado neu- rofisiologista da época, testar em animais a teoria frenológica de Gall, começando a desenvolver uma linha de pesquisa nessa área.42 Impulsionados pelos experimentos pioneiros de Flourens, por volta de 1825, pesquisadores da época desenvolveram Arquivos Brasileiros de Neurocirurgia Vol. 34 No. 3/2015 Neurocirurgia e filosofia no século XIX Romero260 técnicas de ablação cirúrgica seletiva de partes do cérebro de animais e estimulação elétrica do córtex de animais e seres humanos. A partir daí, houve grande avanço na localização das funções cerebrais. Os experimentos de Flourens levaram à conclusão que os hemisférios cerebrais seriam os respon- sáveis pelas funções cognitivas, que o cerebelo regularia e integraria os movimentos, e que o tronco cerebral controlaria funções vitais, como a circulação, a respiração e a estabili- dade geral do organismo. Por outro lado, ele não foi capaz de achar – provavelmente porque as espécies de animais que usou têm córtex relativamente primitivo – regiões mais específicas para memória e cognição, o que o levou a acre- ditar que elas estariam representadas de uma forma difusa por todo o cérebro. Deste modo, Flourens deduziu que diferentes funções realmente podiam ser atribuídas a regiões particulares do cérebro, mas faltava ainda uma localização mais precisa.43–45 Porém, na metade do século XIX, a partir de observações clínicas em indivíduos com transtornos de linguagem feitas na França e na Alemanha, foi possível associar funções mentais superiores com uma localização específica no córtex cerebral. Além disso, novos experimentos com estimulação elétrica mais precisa da superfície do córtex em primatas e cães, realizadas na Inglaterra e na Alemanha, forneceram uma prova mais forte de que havia localização estrita da função no cérebro. A abordagem clínica foi utilizada de forma pioneira na França por Pierre Paul Broca.16–18 Em um trabalho clássico, realizado por volta de 1860-1870, ele estudou o cérebro de vários pacientes afásicos, entre eles um indivíduo que pro- nunciava apenas a expressão “tan”. Após a morte deste paciente, Broca evidenciou que seu cérebro tinha uma lesão, secundária a neurossífilis, delimitada a uma área cortical de um dos hemisférios cerebrais anteriores. Esta parte do cérebro se tornou conhecida como área de Broca e é respon- sável pelo controle da expressão motora da fala.18 Mais ou menos na mesma época, um neurologista alemão, Carl Wernicke, descobriu uma área similar no lobo temporal, que, quando lesada, levava a um déficit sensorial da lingua- gem, ou seja, o paciente era incapaz de reconhecer palavras faladas, mesmo quando tivesse sua audição intacta. Wer- nicke postulou que esta área era conectada por sistemas de fibras nervosas à área de Broca, formando assim um sistema complexo, responsável pela compreensão e expressão da linguagem falada.46–48 Seus estudos foram confirmados por muitos neurologis- tas, incluindo John Hughlings Jackson, prodigioso neurolo- gista inglês, que foi capaz de confirmar a localização da afasia e sua lateralidade, e proporcionar uma integração conceitual impressionante da localização funcional do cérebro, através de sua teoria das hierarquias nervosas, que era baseada na observação de que o pensamento e a memória eram menos afetados por lesões do que as funções mais inferiores, como o controle da respiração e da circulação.49–51 A estimulação elétrica de áreas corticais de seres humanos anestesiados foi inicialmente realizada pelo médico italiano Luigi Rolando,52 técnica também utilizada pelo neurocirur- gião alemão Fedor Krause,53 que estimulou eletricamente as circunvoluções motoras de pacientes anestesiados para a remoção de tumores. Seu mapeamento das áreas corticais motoras foi notavelmente preciso, e deu apoio às pesquisas mais modernas. Na mesma época dos estudos de Broca e Wernicke, dois fisiologistas alemães, Gustav Fritsch e Eduard Hitzig, apri- moraram o conhecimento sobre a localização cerebral da função, estimulando pequenas regiões com eletricidade, na superfície do cérebro de cães acordados. Eles descobriram que a estimulação de algumas áreas causavam contrações musculares na cabeça e pescoço, enquanto a estimulação de áreas cerebrais distintas causavam contrações das pernas anteriores ou posteriores.54 Um neurologista inglês, Sir David Ferrier, realizou impor- tantes experimentos baseados no trabalho de Fritsch e Hitzig, causando um tremendo impacto em nosso conheci- mento sobre o cérebro. Entre 1870 e 1875, ele estimulou eletricamente os giros corticais expostos de macacos e de cães, mapeando 15 áreas relacionadas às funções motoras. Posteriormente, ele removeu cirurgicamente alguns desses pontos, demonstrando a abolição da função motora correspondente.55 Ferrier fez uma previsão ousada, ao transferir, com boa acurácia, como esses pontos poderiam ser representados no córtex humano, e usou este conhecimento com sucesso, pela primeira vez, para orientar diagnósticos neurológicos e cirurgias de pacientes com lesões ou tumores corticais. Por exemplo, ele previu corretamente a localização de uma lesão cortical em um paciente que tinha paralisia dos dedos e do antebraço de um lado, e deu a indicação para que o cirurgião, Macewen, operasse o paciente e removesse o tumor com maior precisão e certeza de sucesso.55 No final do século XIX, o conceito de localização cerebral foi firmemente estabelecido nas neurociências. Juntamente com o desenvolvimento da anestesia e da assepsia, foi fundamental para que Harvey Cushing e Victor Horsley desenvolvessem seus trabalhos, impulsionando o surgi- mento da neurocirurgia moderna. Conclusão O século XIX foi uma época marcada por enormes transforma- ções políticas, econômicas e sociais que trouxeram à tona a necessidade de novos pensamentos e novas ideias. O rompi- mento com estigmas religiosos e ideias absolutistas abriu espaço paraaobservaçãoeoempirismo,possibilitandoosurgimentoda metodologia aplicada a diversas áreas do conhecimento, inclu- sive à ciência. Este ambiente foi responsável por grandes revo- luções tecnológicas, incluindo neste contexto as ciências médicas e, consequentemente, a neurocirurgia. Referências 1 Perry M. Western Civilization: Ideas, Politics, and Society. Flo- rence, KY: Cengage Learning; 2008 2 Hodge C. Encyclopedia of the Age of Imperialism, 1800–1944. Westport: Greenwood Publishing Group; 2008 3 Lyons M. Napoleon Bonaparte and the Legacy of the French Revolution. New York: St. Martin’s Press, Inc.; 1994 Arquivos Brasileiros de Neurocirurgia Vol. 34 No. 3/2015 Neurocirurgia e filosofia no século XIX Romero 261 4 Bernard C. Introduction of the study of experimental medicine. Greene HC, trans. New York: Collier; 1961 (1865). 5 Virchow RLK. Cellular pathology, 1859 special ed., 204–207. London: John Churchill; 1978 6 Darwin C. The origin of species by means of natural selection. London: John Murray; 1850 7 Mendel G. Versuche über Plflanzen-hybriden. Verhandlungen des naturforschenden Ver-eines in Brünn, Bd. IV für das Jahr 1865, Abhand-lungen, 3–47 (1866). 8 Ashton TS. The Industrial Revolution (1760–1830). Oxford Uni- versity Press; 1948 9 Ballance SC. A glimpse into the history of the surgery of the brain. Lancet 1922;22:111–116 10 Horrax G. Neurosurgery: an historical sketch. Springfield: Charles C. Thomas; 1952:10–15 11 Greenblatt SH. A history of Neurosurgery. Park Ridge: American Association of Neurological Surgeons; 1997:3–9 12 Kobler J. The Reluctant Surgeon. A Biography of John Hunter, New York, Doubleday, 1960 13 Leake CD. The Cadenced Story of Anesthesia. Letheon1947 14 Sykes W. Essays on the First Hundred Years of Anesthesia. Stanley; 1960 15 Lister J. Antiseptic Principle of the Practice of Surgery. London1867 16 Broca P. Sur les rapports anatomiques des divers points de la surface du crâne et des diverses parties des hémisphères céré- braux. Bull Soc D’Anth 1861;2:340 17 Broca P. Perte de la parole, ramollissement chronique et destruc- tion partielle du lobe antérieur gauche du cerveau. Bull Soc Anthropl Paris 1861;2:235–238 18 Broca P. Diagnostic d’un abcès situé au niveau de la région du langage; trépanation de cet abcès. Rev Antropol 1876;5:244–248 19 Schiller F. Paul Broca. Founder of french anthropology, explorer of the brain. Berkeley: University of California Press; 1979 20 Laws ER Jr. Neurosurgery’s man of the century: Harvey Cushing— the man and his legacy. Neurosurgery 1999;45(5):977–982 21 Horsley V. Brain surgery in the stone age. BMJ 1887;1:582–587 22 Kant I. Critique of Pure Reason. New York: Dover; 2003 (1771). 23 Watson J. The philosophy of Kant explained. J. Maclehose 1908: 62–72 24 Philips A. Becoming Freud: The making of a Psichoanalyst. Yale University press; 2014 25 Bonney R. Absolutism: what’s in a name? French History 1987; I:93–117 26 Bornhein G. Filosofia do romantismo. In: GUINSBURG, J. (Ed.). O romantismo. 2.ed. São Paulo: Perspectiva; 75–1111985 27 Guinsburg J. O romantismo. São Paulo: Perspectiva; 2002 28 Hegel GWF. Enciclopedia of Philosophical science. Oxford: Claren- don Press; 1971 29 Hegel GWF. Elements of Philosophy of rights. Cambrigde: Cam- bridge University Press; 1991 30 Hegel GWF. Science of Logic. London: G. Allen and Unwin; 1969 31 Hegel GWF. The Phenomenology of Spirit. London: Harper and Row; 1967 32 Marx K. O capital. Coleção Os economistas. São Paulo: Nova Cultural; 1988 33 Marx K, Engels F. Obras escolhidas. Volume 1. São Paulo Alfa- Ômega, sd. 34 Russell B. História da filosofia ocidental. São Pauo: Ed. Nacional – Codil; 1967 35 Maritan J. Elementos de filosofia- I. Introdução geral a a filosofia. Rio de Janeiro: Agir; 1970 36 Hirschberger J. História da filosofia contemporânea. São Paulo: Herder; 1968 37 Broca A, Maubrac P. Traité de chirurgie cérebrale. Paris: Masson; 1896 38 Broca P. La trépanation chez les Incas. Bull. Acad Med 1866; 32:866–871 39 Tubino P, Alves E. História da Cirurgia. 2009 40 Gall FJ, Spurzheim JG. Anatomie et physionomie du système nerveux en general et du cerveau en particulier. Paris: F. Schoell; 1810 41 Gall FJ, Spurzheim JG. Recherches sur le système nerveux en général, et sur celui du cerveau en particulier. Paris1809 42 Greenblatt SH. Phrenology in the science and culture of the 19th century. Neurosurgery 1995;37(4):790–804, discussion 804–805 43 Tizard B. Theories of brain localization from Flourens to Lashley. Med Hist 1959;3(2):132–145 44 Flourens MJP. Recherches expérimentales sur les propriétés et les functions du système nerveux dans les animaux vertébrés. Paris JB Ballière, 1842 45 Flourens MJP. Note touchant l’action de l’éther sur les centres nerveux. CR Acad Sci Paris 1847;24:340–344 46 Wernicke C. Lehrbuch der Gehirnkrankheiten. Berlim1900 47 Wernicke C. Der aphasische Symptomenkomplex. Berlim1874 48 Wernicke C. L’aphasie. Berlim1878 49 Jackson JH. Notes on the physiology and pathology of the nervous system. Med Times Gaz 1868 50 Jackson JH. Note on lateral deviation of the eyes in hemiplegia and in certain epileptiform seizures. Lancet 1866;i:311–331 51 Jackson JH. Note on the comparison and contrast of regional palsy and spasm. Lancet 1867;i:295–297 52 Caputi F, Spaziante R, de Divitiis E, Nashold BS Jr. Luigi Rolando and his pioneering efforts to relate structure to function in the nervous system. J Neurosurg 1995;83(5):933–937 53 Behrend CM. Fedor Krause und die Neurochirurgie. Zbl Neurochir 1938:53–135 54 Fritsch G, Hitzig E. On the electrical excitability of the cerebrum (1870), trans. G. von Bonin, in: Some Papers on the Cerebral Cortex, 73–96 (Thomas, Springfield, 1960). 55 Ferrier D. Experimental researches in cerebral physiology and pathology. West Riding Lunatic Asylum Medical Report 1873; 3:30–96 Arquivos Brasileiros de Neurocirurgia Vol. 34 No. 3/2015 Neurocirurgia e filosofia no século XIX Romero262 
work_mukiufmxdnfldog4jciljjr7d4	----	Humanities — To Be or Not To Be, That Is the Question Humanities 2012, 1, 54-61; doi:10.3390/h1010054 humanities ISSN 2076-0787 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Editorial Humanities — To Be or Not To Be, That Is the Question Albrecht Classen Department of German Studies, University of Arizona, Tucson, AZ 85721, USA; E-Mail: aclassen@u.arizona.edu Received: 7 September 2011 / Accepted: 12 September 2011 / Published: 16 September 2011 1. Introduction Let us carry some proverbial owls to Athens or coals to Newcastle, that is, revisit issues that have been discussed and examined by so many different voices in the past and the present. However, those issues by themselves are so powerful and important, so urgent and difficult that we must never tire of examining them always anew because they pertain centrally to our own human existence and prove to be the defining factors for our survival as a species. Why do we need the humanities as an academic discipline in the university, or in our educational system at large? What role do the humanities play both inside and outside the academy? Most universities in this world somehow acknowledge the importance of languages, literatures, music, art history, philosophy, religion, and education. But when it comes to basic financial issues, the humanities tend to be the first victims of budget cuts, if we disregard specifically liberal arts colleges that focus on the humanities above all or exclusively. Lamentably, it is always an easy method by politicians and bureaucrats to pay lip service to the humanities, yet when they face tough choices, they regularly opt to favor the hard sciences, economics, business, mathematics, medicine, and athletics. I include athletics because I teach at an US-American institution, where athletics departments commonly prove to be the biggest money makers, irrespective of their low or non-existing academic relevance. There is nothing negative about athletics, or any kind of sport activities, especially in an intellectual context insofar as the Romans already knew of the significance of a healthy body as the critical foundation for a healthy mind. Juvenal (first to second century C.E.) emphasized in his Satires (X) the need to have a mens sana in coropore sano (a healthy mind in a healthy body) [1]. But that is very much beside our point here. More important now proves to be how to create this healthy mind, once the body has been made healthy. At stake proves to be the correlation between both dimensions, since they are interdependent. By the same token, that applies to the relationship between the humanities and the sciences, for example. OPEN ACCESS Humanities 2012, 1 55 2. Humanities and University It would be difficult to argue against those who point out the needs for all universities to secure the basic finances, that is, a solid budget, either from public or private funds. Moreover, there is the common assumption, rightly or wrongly, that studying the sciences or business will easily lead to professional employment after the completion of ones‘s academic training. It seems highly unlikely that those who turn toward the study of medicine might easily face unemployment after their graduation. Altogether, our society is in desperate need of medical doctors, of engineers, scientists, and business leaders. The technological changes require ever more engineers and computer experts, and since food and water are some of the most burning issues in this world, no one would question the overarching importance of agriculturists, hydrologists, or chemists. Yet, what does someone do with an education in the humanities? To begin with our discussion, a true university in the Humboldtian sense does not narrowly define itself as a professional training school [2]. By contrast, the university educates, offers Bildung, and serves as a place where teaching and research go hand in hand in the free spirit of the intellect, aiming for the improvement of the individual, the community, and the nation, if not the world [3]. The humanities play a central role in that context, as most universities, at least in North America and Europe, include the liberal arts as one of the essential corner stones. I venture to claim that a central ideal at a modern university would be to help the young people enrolled as students to gain a well- rounded education, which includes both scientific-mathematical and humanistic aspects. As individuals, we need the abilities to speak and to write, to count and to calculate, to analyze and to think, to appreciate and to understand, to emphasize and to sympathize, to share and to ask, to collaborate and to teach. The Middle High German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach expressed this perhaps the best in his classic Grail romance, Parzival (ca. 1205), where the suffering in the world, represented by the Grail King Anfortas‘s wound in the testicle, is finally overcome by the protagonist, Anfortas‘s nephew Parzival, who simply has to formulate the one basic question: ―Uncle, what troubles you?‖ [4]. Parzival has learned true commiseration, has understood that all people belong to one community, and that pity, empathy, and sympathy are the glue that holds us all together. Most significantly, the young protagonist has broken into tears while asking for the direction to reach the Grail, and God then grants Anfortas the immediate recovery from near death. Subsequently, the Grail stone has a writing appear on its surface which announces Parzival as the legitimate heir and successor to the throne, who is soon joined by his wife Condwiramurs and their two sons, whom he had not seen for years. Love thus reenters the human heart, and global healing sets in. There is no doubt that humanity is plagued by sorrow and suffering, but love and joy can always compensate the worst experiences, there is hope, as poets and artists have told us for ages. It is the task of the humanities scholars to bring out that message and to carry it forth to the world. 3. A Homesick Astronaut Now, let us turn to the example of an astronaut who spends a long time in space, visiting the space station, the moon, or a nearby planet, such as Mars. The astronaut can only accomplish his or her task because a huge team of researchers and technicians at ground control support everything s/he does out Humanities 2012, 1 56 there, far away from mother Earth. Considering the complexity of the entire space program and the space ship, the individual astronaut almost seems to be nothing but a cog in the wheel, whether s/he steers the space ship himself or not. At any rate, even though the astronaut can accomplish all his tasks, reach the distant stellar body, and traverse unimaginable distances, ultimately, however, he remains, we hope, a human being. While s/he is floating through space, working, eating, sleeping, occasionally exercising, something is happening for sure which the official reports normally never mention. The astronaut has also a mind, a heart, fantasy, dreams, hopes, and fears. No one at ground control will ever assist him/her in coming to terms with his/her own individual existence while s/he floats quietly through dark space, having the glowing body of the moon, of Mars, or of Earth in front of his/her eyes. And once s/he has returned and gotten out of the space suit, the astronaut retransforms into the being that s/he had been before, man or woman. What might go through his/her mind while s/he is traveling in space? The astronaut is a human being, and all human beings have feelings of all sorts, and cannot be separated from those easily, if ever at all. Here the humanities suddenly come into play, and they prove to be essential. Without artistic expressions (music, literature, visual arts, etc.), the human creature would not be what it is in essential terms. Simply put, we need all those hard sciences, business, economics, medicine, etc., but by the same token we also need songs, poems, romances, paintings, sculptures, films, and all kinds of other art works and media, including dance, theater, etc. Why would the astronaut want to return to earth if s/he would not know that human society would wait for him/her down there, whatever that might mean in specific terms. Space flight might encapsulate perfectly why the humanities are one of the central subjects in our lives. Astronautical efforts might achieve great things, and they have actually done so many times, to the awe of mankind. But beyond that, what has space travel achieved for the improvement of the human soul? The question is unfair, of course, because astronautical endeavors have very specific scientific goals, and they should not aim for humanistic goals when it is all technical in the entire set-up. However, if we focus only on one side in our lives, we will be blinded, for sure. This also means that those who only consider poetry or music as the mantra of everything, ignoring the essential aspects of the sciences and medicine that have done miracles to the improvement of human life, blatantly commit the same mistake as those who want to get rid of the humanities. Recently I had the wonderful opportunity to attend an art opening displaying the paintings and metal art work by the East German artist Andreas Nottebohm [5]. He has been one of the artists whom NASA had commissioned to reflect upon the space program by means of art works. Indeed, many of his contributions can rightly be called masterpieces, offering innovative perspectives toward space exploration, and providing visual lenses for the stunning beauty of the universe. Nottebohm achieved the most remarkable accomplishment of working on the aesthetic and the scientific side, thus addressing both the scientists and the ordinary people interested in art. More importantly, he created images of the extraterrestrial world making it thus accessible through visual means. What does art, what does music bring about, and why would they be important for all people? Of course, there might not be any need to raise such questions, but let us repeat them anyway because each person, every generation, and all people have to deal with them over and over again in order to come to terms with their own idiosyncratic culture and their value system, that is, with their essential being. We must also expand the questions and include literature/poetry, philosophy, and religion, to Humanities 2012, 1 57 mention the most important domains. The universe in its microcosmic and macrocosmic dimensions is, ultimately ineffable and inconceivable in specific human terms, and we often stand in front of a natural phenomenon, deeply filled with admiration, love, and delight, sometimes also with fear and horror, and yet we cannot vocalize specifically what happens with us or what it all matters to us as creatures in the universal context. The same might happen with man-made objects, machines, bridges, buildings, or clothing. The inner beauty, brought to light by human ingenuity, is suddenly laid bare to us, and we feel an inner stirring, sometimes translating into poetry, sometimes rendered as a musical composition or an art piece. The apophatic character of the absolute beautiful challenges us in many respects, since we cannot tolerate, as human beings, the lack of words for what we experience in physical and metaphysical terms. No wonder that the world of medieval mystical literature proves to be so amazing even for us today because these religious authors had already gained incredible insights into the Godhead and had formulated their visions and revelations in most extraordinary fashion. 4. Beauty Let me illustrate some of those fundamental features with a brief discussion of the old Alpine pass Tremola, leading over the St. Gotthard, Switzerland [6]. Road engineers created sone of the most stunning switchbacks and serpentine roads crossing the massive mountain, providing a means of transportation in some of the most rugged Swiss terrain. Human skills and abilities made it possible to defy the mountain‘s challenge and to allow people to drive over the pass, and this already for a long time, though the first major modern road construction was not completed until 1967 [7]. All that belongs in the field of history and road engineering. But one look at that mountain side alone easily leaves anyone simply breathless. The beauty of the rocky landscape in lofty heights is incomparable and requires more than a technician‘s mind to grasp its full meaning. A poet might be helpful, then a photographer, and a composer would certainly be a good companion here as well. A painter could do wonders, just as the engineer did when he created those hairpin curves. However, as a religious person would point out, the creator of all that beauty also deserves credit, probably the greatest of them all. However we might see that, and irrespective of what beautiful part of this world we might consider in this context, whether glaciers in Alaska or a black-sand beach on the Big Island of Hawai‘i, natural beauty strikes us as profound and all encompassing, perhaps in the sense Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) had already described it so powerfully, especially in his essay ―The Over-Soul‖ (1841): ―We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related, the eternal ONE. And this deep power in which we exist and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are one. We see the world piece by piece, as the sun, the moon, the animal, the tree; but the whole, of which these are shining parts, is the soul.‖ [8] We need this realization so desperately since life without beauty is very hard to take and probably not possible. Even the foulest and most destroyed area in inner cities or in industrial regions are not devoid of beauty, whether we think of Manchester, UK, Essen, Germany, or Pittsburgh, PA (with apologies to those cities, if my assessment is completely incorrect). But who perceives that beauty, and Humanities 2012, 1 58 who can help the individuals living there to recognize those hidden treasures? Let us move more closely to human life itself by extending the same line of thoughts. Beauty is not limited to the young female beauty queen. The old grandmother, beloved by her children and grand-children, can exude more spiritual beauty than the most stunning star model in her physical appearance but coupled with limited emotional maturity. One of the best examples illustrating the inner beauty of an old person was proved by the famous German Renaissance artist Albrecht Dürer when he created a woodcut of his old mother in 1514 [9]. We all know that we will grow old and die, and this sometimes at the very moment when the entire world seems to be at our disposal and we enjoy beauty to the utmost, as we learn so well in Goethe‘s famous play Faust (with the second part finally completed in 1831) [10]. His contract with Mephistopheles, or the devil, stipulates, upon his own insistence, that the latter could take his soul when the one unlikely moment would have arrived: ―‗Ah, stay a while! You are so lovely!‘‖ (Scene IV, verse 1700) [11]. The only thing we do not know is the time when we will die. Until then, however, we have every chance to prepare ourselves, to work toward that moment, and try hard to make the best out of the short span of time granted to us here on earth. This labor should be a labor of love. We ought to find love, to make friends, to help society, and leave this world behind as a better place, whatever there might be in our power as an individual. The value, for instance, of an unexpected smile or hug cannot even be defined in concrete terms. Poets, however, would know how to say what such a smile really means. 5. Science and Technology and Human Nature While the sciences and medicine are most important factors in this huge enterprise which every individual has to go through from birth to death, we cannot only rely on material strategies that contribute to the basic maintenance of human life. After all, we are both physical and emotional/spiritual beings. We love and hope, we laugh and cry; we have hopes and we can despair; we are filled with anger and with joy; we respond to the external world with enthusiasm and melancholy; we might live in a deeply satisfying partnership with a beloved person, or we might face loneliness and boredom all by ourselves. The possibilities of how our lives develop are infinite, and each person here on earth has to cope with the external and internal conditions which are given us. Some become fighters, others are passive figures. Some people are warriors, others pursue peace at almost any cost. In other words, the options are endless, and the changes that can occur in our lives are most promising and threatening at the same time. Nothing what I have said will really come as a surprise. We can read about all those aspects in self- help books, in meditation guides, we can hear about them in sermons, but then also in poems, in theater plays, in movies, in radio talk shows, in confessionals, in discussions with friends and lovers, in debates with counselors and advisors, etc. In this context a number of factors immediately emerge that are essential in comprehending the issues at stake. We as human beings rely most critically on the ability to communicate with each other, either by means of words, gestures, images, music, or by way of written texts, images, and sound. We are, after all, citizens of one world in all its kaleidoscopic features and must rely on each other, trust each other, if possible at all, to make sure that the ideas and insights from the past carry over to the future and so guarantee the survival of our planet Earth—there Humanities 2012, 1 59 is no other (see Martha Nussbaum‘s brilliant appeals and reflections on the essential function of the humanities) [12]. Moreover, human life is determined by the experiences of love, happiness, joy, and death. Sorrow is always paired with hope. We can dream and hope for a better life and imagine a utopian society. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was so right about that when he pronounced that he had a dream [13]. In fact, in order to live we all must dream and aspire for a better world in which we can realize all our potentials and abilities. Some might achieve that goal, others might be only partially successful, and others again might fail. Nevertheless, the central issue proves to be the strife itself, which seems to be tantamount to life. However, is there any way to define what these fundamental aspects in our lives might be? Can we define love, or death, joy or God? Is there any possibility to specify what the basic emotional experiences truly are, perhaps by means of a mathematical or chemical formula? Both medieval and modern poets have struggled in vain to achieve that goal, and scientists have never even claimed that they might be able to answer those questions in the affirmative. In general, I would assume that the arts and literature, whether composed and created in East or in West, in antiquity or in the present, are best qualified to help the individual to come to terms with some of those issues that are so important for us if we want to enjoy a ‗good life,‘ whatever that might mean in specific terms. Who would deny the soothing, uplifting, enthralling, empowering, saddening, and illuminating power of music? As much as we always fight over what might constitute good or bad literature, paintings, sculptures, etc., we would probably all agree on the one common experience that the ineffable features in human existence find the most appropriate formulation in poetic, visual, or musical form. This is the domain of the humanities, and whoever tries to cut down that academic field is also announcing open warfare against human culture and human life. 6. Our Common Humanities Studying the humanities means many different things, such as developing linguistic skills to reach out to other people and other cultures. By way of literary works we can understand differences in religious orientation and political viewpoints. Music and paintings have always spoken a universal language, building bridges where gulfs and abysses seem to separate everyone in hostility and enmity. Of course, the same applies to mathematical numbers and chemical formulas, which also prove to be of extreme importance. All languages, including those used to develop computers and internet connections, reach out to other people. The humanities, however, are primarily qualified to establish those links between individuals and communities, and to create the essential means to overcome conflicts and wars. By the same token, the study of literary works or art works has never prevented the outbreak of hostilities, but neither have physical or economic research. Even when humanists do not succeed in reaching out to the other creatures here in this world, and cannot convince the other side to put down the weapons, they are the ones who carry the torch of love and peace across all barriers, through all cultures, and beyond all linguistic hurdles. Ironically, the economic impact of those humanistic efforts is so great that no one can even fathom the full extent. We might ultimately say that the humanities have defended themselves rather weakly, although they represent some of the most central and most important issues in this world. It would be absurd to set up an artificial polarity with the sciences because those are like brothers and sisters to the humanities, Humanities 2012, 1 60 as perhaps best illustrated by the differences and yet also strong familial bonds between Alexander (1769–1859) and Wilhelm Humboldt (1767–1835), the first having been one of the greatest scientists of his time, while the other one established the modern university and laid the foundation of the humanities as we know them today. Irrespective of all the military conflicts between Muslim fundamentalists and the western world today, and irrespective of the many Crusades by the Christian knights against the Muslims holding the Holy Land during the Middle Ages, the West owes much of its present scientific, philosophical, and artistic traditions to Arabic sources which were translated and transferred to Europe during the twelfth century [14]. These processes had been possible because of countless efforts on the part of translators, poets, religious persons (Francis of Assisi, 1181/82–1226), artists, politicians, and authors (Ramon Llull, 1232–1315). The number of other examples illustrating the deep and fundamental impact of humanistic strategies on the well-being of our lives is legion. The imaginary astronaut mentioned above would also confirm that s/he could survive in the void of his/her space travel only because the image of the blue earth was constantly in his/her mind. Without that goal, without hope for life, love, and God, people could not exist. That‘s the stuff the humanities are all about, both today and in the future. Of course, we all must first think of how to survive, how to get food, water, and shelter, as Bertolt Brecht emphasized so powerfully in his Threepenny Opera (1928), ―first comes food, then moral.‖ Subsequently, however, once the creature‘s needs have been met, the heart, the mind, and the soul demand principal attention. We are people not simply because of our human body, but because of our human spirit above all. And we know that this is true, considering that Asian philosophers and poets have more or less reached the same conclusions in this regard as Western, African, Australian, or American thinkers or writers. References and Notes 1. The relevant research literature on this topic is immense; see, for instance, Sarah Curtis, Space, Place and Mental Health. Geographies of Health (Farnham, Surrey, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2010); Walter M Bortz, Next Medicine: The Science and Civics of Health (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011); Available online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Mens_sana_in_corpore_sano (accessed on 7 September 2011). 2. Wilhelm Von Humboldt (1767–1835). Prospects: The Quarterly Review of Comparative Education; XXIII, no. 3/4, 613–623; Available online: http://www.ibe.unesco.org/fileadmin/ user_upload/archive/publications/ThinkersPdf/humbolde.PDF (accessed on 7 September 2011). 3. For international perspectives, see Albert Rolls, International Perspectives on Education. Reference Shelf, 79, 4 ([Bronx, NY]: H.W. Wilson Co., 2007). As to liberal arts, see Bruce A. Kimball, Orators & Philosophers: A History of the Idea of Liberal Education (New York: Teachers College, Columbia University, 1986); Gregory S.Prince, Teach Them to Challenge Authority: Educating for Healthy Societies (New York: Continuum, 2008). 4. Wolfram von Eschenbach: Parzival and Titurel. Trans. with Notes by Cyril Edwards. With an Introduction by Richard Barber. Oxford World‘s Classics. Oxford University Press: Oxford, UK, 2006; Book XVI, section 795, p. 333. Humanities 2012, 1 61 5. Available online: http://artmuseum.arizona.edu/exhibitions/Nottebohm_Andreas.shtml (accessed on 7 September 2011). 6. Available online: http://www.360cities.net/image/gotthard-tremola-switzerland#0.00,0.00,70.0 (accessed on 7 September 2011). 7. Available online: http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gotthardpass (accessed on 7 September 2011). 8. Available online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ralph_Waldo_Emerson (accessed on 7 September 2011). 9. Available online: http://www.albrecht-durer.org/Durer%27s-Mother-large.html (accessed on 7 September 2011). 10. Wellbery, D.E. Faust and the Dialectic of Modernity. In A New History of German Literature; Ryan, J., Ed.; The Belknap Pres of Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA, USA, London, UK, 2004; pp. 546-551. 11. Available online: http://www.poetryintranslation.com/PITBR/German/FaustIScenesIVtoVI.htm (accessed on 7 September 2011). 12. Nussbaum, M. Cultivating Humanity: A Classical Defense of Reform in Liberal Education; Harvard University Press: Cambridge, MA, USA, 1997. 13. I Have a Dream. Available online: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Have_a_Dream; http://ia700402.us.archive.org/29/items/MLKDream/MLKDream_64kb.mp3 (accessed on 7 September 2011). 14. Une conquête des savoirs: Les traductions dans l’Europe latine (fin du XIe siècle milieu du XIIIe siècle). Colloque organisé à la Fondation Singer-Polignac le jeudi 27 novembre 2008. Actes édités par Max Lejbowicz. Rencontres Médiévales Européennes, 9 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009). © 2011 by the authors; licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/). 
work_n2jd7til2bgabbonznmhszl7ay	----	Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 Transatlantica Revue d’études américaines. American Studies Journal  1 | 2003 State of the Union Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. Neuilly : Atlande, « Clefs concours Civilisation américaine », 2003. 224 p., chronologie, notices biographiques, glossaire, bibliographie, index. François Brunet Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/687 DOI : 10.4000/transatlantica.687 ISSN : 1765-2766 Éditeur AFEA Référence électronique François Brunet, « Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. », Transatlantica [En ligne], 1 | 2003, mis en ligne le 05 avril 2006, consulté le 25 septembre 2020. URL : http:// journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/687 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/transatlantica.687 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 25 septembre 2020. Transatlantica – Revue d'études américaines est mis à disposition selon les termes de la licence Creative Commons Attribution - Pas d'Utilisation Commerciale - Pas de Modification 4.0 International. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/transatlantica/687 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. Neuilly : Atlande, « Clefs concours Civilisation américaine », 2003. 224 p., chronologie, notices biographiques, glossaire, bibliographie, index. François Brunet 1 Petit par la taille, le livre de Marc Bellot affiche l’ambition modeste de fournir des « repères » aux agrégatifs qui en 2003 auront eu à affronter l’épreuve d’option sur l’oeuvre en prose d’Emerson. Or si cet objectif est pleinement réalisé, il faut d’abord saluer l’événement qu’est en France la parution d’un ouvrage sur Emerson (combien y en a-t-il eu depuis la thèse de Maurice Gonnaud en 1964 ?), et le tour de force qu’a réussi Marc Bellot en composant non pas un simple manuel mais un véritable précis. On ne cherchera pas ici d’interprétations nouvelles, mais on se reportera sans hésiter à une synthèse qui brille par sa qualité didactique. Marc Bellot a affronté méthodiquement la difficulté d’une lecture civilisationniste d’Emerson, et en a déduit un plan clair et convaincant. On a d’abord une revue des contextes (la carrière et la réception d’Emerson, puis les grands enjeux historiques et culturels qui traversent l’œuvre : puritanisme et unitarisme, pastoralisme et progrès technique, question de l’esclavage). Viennent ensuite les parcours thématiques (sur l’unitarisme, le transcendantalisme, le spiritualisme, la fonction poétique, l’histoire, l’expansionnisme, le progrès technique, l’essor économique, l’activisme abolitionniste, les droits des femmes), systématiquement appuyés par d’abondantes citations et des éléments de contextualisation toujours pertinents. A travers ces parcours sont couvertes toutes les questions qu’impliquent aujourd’hui une lecture civilisationniste, et même une lecture politique, d’Emerson, sans oublier ni la dimension littéraire ni surtout la dimension morale de cette oeuvre. Cette lecture est d’autant plus riche qu’elle aborde, au-delà du corpus proposé dans l’édition Norton, d’autres textes importants mais peu accessibles (comme la conférence « American Civilization » de 1862). L’ouvrage excelle donc aussi par la qualité et la maîtrise de l’information (sur les sources primaires, sur les débats du 19e siècle, sur l’historiographie et sur la critique émersonienne, américaine mais aussi française), qui trouve des rappels clairs et commodes dans les annexes : chronologie croisée de la vie d’Emerson et de son époque, notices biographiques de tous les Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 1 personnages historiques cités (de George Fox à James Elliot Cabot), glossaire des termes et notions (peut-être un peu fourre-tout, puisqu’on y trouve « Eucharistie » à côté de « Destinée manifeste » et de « « Post-kantisme », mais ce fourre-tout n’est-il pas à l’image d’Emerson ?), enfin une riche bibliographie (qui reprend grosso modo celle élaborée collectivement pour les préparateurs). Inévitable revers de l’exigence didactique de cet ouvrage, l’Emerson de Marc Bellot manque un peu de complexité textuelle et rhétorique, paraît même parfois un peu trop prévisible (encore que soient parfaitement mis en lumière les revirements sur l’abolitionnisme ou sur le capitalisme). De même cet ouvrage tend-il plutôt à effacer ce que certains critiques américains appellent le « radicalisme » (moral et philosophique, plutôt que politique) d’Emerson. Par là même, cependant, il n’en évite que mieux les ornières du débat lancinant sur le positionnement idéologique et socio-historique d’Emerson. Aussi n’hésite-t-on pas à se réjouir d’avoir enfin en français, avec le petit livre de Marc Bellot, un ouvrage de référence sur Emerson, assurément destiné à survivre au programme 2003. INDEX Thèmes : Recensions AUTEUR FRANÇOIS BRUNET Paris 7 — Denis Diderot Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. Transatlantica, 1 | 2003 2 Marc Bellot. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Parcours de l’oeuvre en prose. 
work_n5zwpm73rvfc5fzb4qmrrxdeye	----	Microsoft Word - ishikawa.doc 24 Chinese Marxism in the Early 20th Century and Japan Ishikawa Yoshihiro 石川禎浩 Kyoto University Last year, the Chinese Communist Party celebrated the eightieth anniversary of its founding in 1921. Also last year I published my first book, and it concerned the founding of the Chinese Communist Party.1 Needless to say, my book has nothing to do with the Party’s official memorial events. In this short essay, I would like to introduce some of the principal points of my research, including some new findings which even the Chinese Communist Party would not acknowledge. The Chinese Communist Party (CCP) has more than sixty million members today. To make a simple comparison, they exceed, in number, the population of most European countries, such as Great Britain and France. The CCP is, thus, not only ruling the most populous country of the world, but is also in itself the largest party in world history. When it held its first national congress in Shanghai at the end of July 1921, however, the Party had only fifty-three members, a faint shadow of what it would grow into. The history of the Chinese Communist Party goes back to 1920, when Chen Duxiu 陈独秀 (1879-1942) and other radical intellectuals brought together a small group in Shanghai with the help of Gregory Voitinsky (1893-1953), a representative of the Russian Communist Party. For many years, opinions have differed over the role played by Soviet Russia. Generally speaking, historians in Mainland China tend to emphasize the independent effort of the Chinese revolutionaries, while overseas historians incline to overestimate the Russian influence vis-à-vis domestic factors. For example, according to the official view of the CCP, the birth of the Party was recognized as “an outcome of the combination of the Chinese labor movement and the wide spread of Marxism-Leninism in China.”2 Although they do not neglect the role of Soviet Russia, it is considered, at most, a secondary factor. This general tendency has much to do with the current policy of the CCP never to open its collective mouth without saying “Socialism with Chinese characteristics.” From its point of view, the CCP had to have had Chinese characteristics from its very start. On the other hand, some scholars in the West lay great emphasis on the foreign background of the Communist movement in China. Some of them go so far as to say that the major factor in the birth of the CCP was the impact of the October Revolution and the political and financial aid offered by the Bolsheviks in subsequent years. No doubt, the founding of the CCP was an integral part of the whole international Communist 1 Ishikawa Yoshihiro石川禎浩, Chūgoku kyōsantō seiritsu shi中国共産党成立史 (The history of the founding of the Chinese Communist Party) (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 2001). 2 Zhonggong zhongyang dangshi yanjiushi yishi 中共中央党史研究室一室 , Zhongguo gongchandang lishi (shang juan) ruogan wenti shuoming《中国共产党历史 (上卷) 》若干问题 说明 (Some explanatory notes on the first volume of History of the Chinese Communist Party) (Beijing: Zhonggong dangshi chubanshe, 1991), p.22. 25 movement initiated by the Bolsheviks. But, I think the international background that they are referring to is mostly limited to the direct influence of Soviet Russia and the Comintern. For example, they often quote Mao Zedong 毛澤東to show the important role of Soviet Russia. In a 1949 speech, Mao said: It was through the Russians that the Chinese found Marxism. Before the October Revolution, the Chinese were not only ignorant of Lenin and Stalin; they did not even know of Marx and Engels. The salvoes of the October Revolution brought us Marxism- Leninism.3 At first glance, these sentences sound perfectly acceptable. But, when you think about it, were there many Chinese intellectuals who could understand the intricacies of Marxist theory through Russian articles at that time? Most assuredly not. As a matter of fact, it was not until a few years after the founding of the Party that some Party leaders began to translate Communist writings directly from Russian. Then, where did Chinese Marxism come from? The answer is, as is suggested in the title of this essay, Japan and, later, Great Britain and the United States. It may sound a little bit strange that modern China absorbed Communist theory through these typically capitalist countries, but the point should become clearer below. As is well known, China and Japan have much cultural history in common. For instance, we use countless expressions written in Chinese characters to translate modern concepts of Western origin, such as politics (seiji政治), society (shakai社会), religion (shūkyō宗教), freedom (jiyū自由), culture (bunka文化) and the like, although the pronunciation of these characters of course differs greatly between Chinese and Japanese. Needless to say, there were ideas of politics, society, religion, and whatnot in pre-modern East Asia, but there was no precise equivalent for those Western concepts before then. In Meiji-era Japan those new terms were coined to introduce modern Western civilization.4 Before the modern era, the circulation of culture had been a largely one-way flow from China to Japan for more than a thousand years. But, at the beginning of the twentieth century, for the first time a backward or return flow from Japan to China developed. Japan hungrily ingested the Western social sciences and then passed them along to its East Asian neighbors. This was indeed the pattern through the first two decades of the twentieth century. In this sense, Japan served as middleman to China’s intellectual Westernization. According to one estimate, fully half of all modern loanwords in Chinese are of Japanese origin,5 and these loanwords from Japanese are accepted so firmly and widely in China that few Chinese people would even be aware of their origins. 3 “On the People’s Democratic Dictatorship (June 30, 1949),” in Selected Works of Mao Tse-tung, (Beijing: Foreign Languages Press, 1967), vol. 4, p.413. 4 On the coinage of new Japanese terms in the early Meiji era, see: Saitō Tsuyoshi斎藤毅, Meiji no kotoba明治のことば (The new vocabulary of the Meiji era) (Tokyo: Kōdansha, 1977); Suzuki Shūji鈴木修次, Bunmei no kotoba文明のことば (Words concerning civilization) (Hiroshima: Bunka hyōron shuppan, 1981);and Suzuki Shūji, Nihon kango to Chūgoku日本漢語 と中国 (Chinese terms made in Japan and China) (Tokyo: Chūō kōronsha, 1981). 5 Wong Siulun, Sociology and Socialism in Contemporary China (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1979), p.5. 26 At the beginning of the twentieth century, with the great increase in the number of Chinese students in Japan, numerous Western works were translated into Chinese from Japanese editions. Suffice it to say here that most of the first Chinese translations of important Western works, such as Montesquieu’s The Spirit of Laws, Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Social Contract, and Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species, to name but a few, were made from Japanese translations almost simultaneously around the year 1900. The results constituted an intellectual revolution affecting every segment of the Chinese elite. Japan also served as the initial route for the introduction of diverse theories of early socialism, such as evolutionary thinking and the progressive view of history. In fact, the two principal waves of socialism in China in the early twentieth century coincide with those in Japan. That is to say, the first wave appeared at the very beginning of the twentieth century, when the Japanese socialist movement reached its first high tide; the second which brought about the founding of the CCP occurred in 1919, when the Japanese socialist movement had just begun to recover from the destruction caused by the Great Treason Incident of 1910, a frame-up by the Meiji state to suppress the anarchist socialists who were accused of plotting to assassinate the Meiji Emperor. A famous socialist Kōtoku Shūsui幸徳秋水(1871-1911), whose books had a great impact on the earlier high tide of socialism in China, was executed among others.6 After this case, the socialist movement in Japan was stifled for several years and has come to be called “the winter period of socialism” (shakaishugi fuyu no jidai社会主義冬の時代). It was not until 1919 that Japanese socialists such as Kawakami Hajime河上肇 (1879-1946), Sakai Toshihiko堺利彦 (1870-1933), and Yamakawa Hitoshi山川均(1880-1958), among others, resumed their writing activities and soon exercised a major influence on many Chinese intellectuals who had been highly encouraged by the recent October Revolution of 1917. Many Chinese revolutionaries at the time pointed out the importance of Japanese socialist writings. For example, in 1920 when a large number of socialist works were translated from Japanese, Feng Ziyou冯自由 (1881-1958), a member of Sun Yat-sen’s group and the author of a book entitled Shehuizhuyi yu Zhongguo (Socialism and China) wrote: In Japan, ever since Kōtoku Shūsui was executed in 1911, no one has gone ahead and advocated this kind of dangerous idea. As you all know, most of the Chinese books about the new knowledge were translated from Japanese. But the Japanese then stopped publishing this sort of work. How were we to find translations of them? Now, though, those who advocate socialism in China are doing their best to publish socialist magazines and newspapers with the help of new reinforcements from new Japanese translations.7 6 On Kōtoku’s influence over Chinese socialism in the first decade of twentieth century, see Hazama Naoki狭間直樹, Chūgoku shakaishugi no reimei中国社会主義の黎明 (The dawn of socialism in China) (Tokyo: Iwanami shoten, 1976). 7 Feng Ziyou, Shehui zhuyi yu Zhongguo社會主義與中國 (Socialism and China) （Hong Kong: Shehuizhuyi yanjiusuo, 1920）, p.11. 27 It should be clear from this example that the rise and fall of the socialist movement in China was closely linked to Japan. The influence from Japan can also be seen in the careers of the early Party leaders. In the early days of the CCP, the party was mainly composed of intellectuals who had earlier been students in Japan. Li Dazhao李大 釗 (1889-1927) may be the most famous and important CCP leader among them. The name of Li Dazhao is still extremely well known in China, especially as a founder of the CCP, and he is often called “the father of Chinese Marxism.” There is indeed ample reason for him to have earned this title—not only because he made the first, full-fledged introduction of Marxism in China in 1919, but also because his understanding of Marxism was, in a sense, colored by earlier Chinese streams of thought. Many historians believe that the early thought of Li Dazhao and his understanding of Marxism have certain parallels to those of Mao Zedong—for example, the inclinations toward populism, voluntarism, and traditional Chinese idealism. 8 In this sense, Li Dazhao probably deserves the title “the father of Chinese Marxism.” We miss the point, however, if we regard these inclinations simply as reflections of Chinese traditions of thought. In fact, the complexity of Li Dazhao’s thought and his understanding of Marxism can quite clearly be explained by the Japanese texts he read. To take one simple example, Li’s most famous writing on Marxism “Wo de Makesizhuyi guan”我的马克思主义观 (My views on Marxism),”9 which was also a landmark in the introduction of Marxism to China, was little more than a translation, or rather adaptation, from two Japanese writings. One was “Marukusu no shakaishugi no rironteki taikei” マ ルクスの社会主義の理論的体系 (A theoretical system of Marxist socialism) written by Kawakami Hajime, Japan’s most eminent Marxist scholar and a professor of economics at Kyoto University; the second was Zoku keizaigaku kōgi続経済学講義 (A new outline of economics), written by Fukuda Tokuzō福田徳三 (1874-1930), a professor of economics at Tokyo Imperial University.10 By comparing Li Dazhao’s “My Views on Marxism” with these two Japanese writings, we can easily see that Li Dazhao not only understood the outlines of Marxism precisely as those Japanese texts explained it, but also that he quoted certain critical views toward Marxism from them as well. So, we cannot simply conclude that this famous essay by Li Dazhao was a reflection of his own distinctive thought. Both Kawakami and Fukuda were very famous scholars in prewar Japan, and they did not completely agree with Marxism at that time. Of course, then, neither did Li Dazhao. In other words, the ambivalent attitude toward Marxism in Li Dazhao’s writing reflected the attitude of those Japanese scholars rather than simply that of Li himself. In view of this Japanese influence, let us take a brief look at Li Dazhao’s early thought, that is before he came out in support of Marxism. As just mentioned, it is generally agreed that the early thought of Li Dazhao had certain idealistic inclinations, 8 See, for example: Maurice Meisner, Li Ta-chao and the Origins of Chinese Marxism (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1967), pp.55-56, 80-89; and Stuart Schram, The Thought of Mao Tse-tung (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p.36-37. 9 Li Dazhao, “Wo de Makesizhuyi guan,” Xin qingnian新青年 (The New Youth) 6.5-6 (1919). 10 Kawakami Hajime, “Marukusu no shakaishugi no rironteki taikei,” Shakai mondai kenkyū社会 問題研究2 (1919); and Fukuda Tokuzō, Zoku keizaigaku kōgi (Tokyo: Dōbunkan, 1913). 28 but there is little agreement about what his idealism was and where it came from. Some say it was a form of philanthropism from Leo Tolstoy;11 some say he was influenced by Henri Bergson and Ralph Waldo Emerson;12 and others say his idealism came from the Chinese tradition, for example Daoism.13 To put the matter simply, there is no agreement whatsoever on this issue. There are, of course, reasons for this disagreement. The most important reason is that the early writings of Li Dazhao are not only hard to understand because of their style, but also often full of inaccurate quotations from Chinese and foreign texts from all ages. They are quite simply pedantic; or, to put it the other way round, one might say that they are extremely deep in meaning. And that is, I believe, why a large number of studies have been produced on Li Dazhao’s philosophical background and why historians have interpreted his thought so differently. The influence from Japan is, I believe, the key to resolve the complexity of Li’s early thought. His early writings were, as well as his understanding of Marxism, based on the writings of a Japanese publicist, by the name of Kayahara Kazan茅原華山(1870-1952). For example, Li Dazhao’s early masterpiece “Qingchun”青春 (Youth) of 1916 is completely based on Kayahara’s marvelous cosmology: “Hisō naru seishin”悲壮なる精神 (A tragic but brave spirit) written earlier the same year.14 This is just one example of the relationship between Li Dazhao and Kayahara Kazan, and one could find many similar examples elsewhere between them.15 Kayahara Kazan is not at all famous in Japan today, and his name would be unfamiliar even to most Japanese historians. 16 However, at the beginning of the twentieth century, he was a very famous publicist. We have here a familiar story of the most popular star of one era bcoming completely forgotten by later generations. In his day, one could find articles by Kayahara in virtually every Japanese magazine, sometimes with a portrait of this kind seen below beside it. Probably, while Li Dazhao was living in Tokyo as a student at Waseda University in the 1910s, he became a devoted reader of Kayahara and continued reading his work after returning to China to work as the librarian 11 Nittono Yoshiyuki入戸野良行, “Ri Taishō to Torusutoizumu 李大釗とトルストイズム (Li Dazhao and Tolstoyism),” Sundai shigaku駿台史学 46 (1979). 12 Benjamin I. Schwartz, Chinese Communism and the Rise of Mao (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1951), p.10-11. 13 Kondō Kuniyasu近藤邦康, Chūgoku kindai shisō-shi kenkyū中国近代思想史研究 (The history of modern Chinese thought) (Tokyo: Keisō shobō, 1981), p.192. 14 Li Dazhao, “Qingchun,” Xin qingnian 2.1 (1916); and Kayahara Kazan, “Hisō naru seishin,” Kōzui igo洪水以後1 (1916). 15 For further details, see Ishikawa Yoshihiro, “Tōzai bunmeiron to Nit-Chū no rondan”東西文明 論と日中の論壇 (On eastern vs. western culture and the views of critics in China and Japan), in Furuya Tetsuo古屋哲夫, ed., Kindai Nihon no Ajia ninshiki 近代日本のアジア認識 (Modern Japanese perceptions of Asia) (Kyoto: Kyōto daigaku jinbun kagaku kenkyūjo, 1994). 16 As for Kayahara’s personal history, see Matsuo Takayoshi松尾尊兊, “Daisan teikoku” kaisetsu 『第三帝国』解説 (Explanatory notes about Daisan teikoku),” in: “Daisan teikoku” kaisetsu, sōmokuji, sakuin『第三帝国』解説・総目録・索引(Daisan teikoku Explanatory notes, catalog, index) (Tokyo: Fuji shuppan, 1984); and Kayahara Ken茅原健, Kayahara Kazan to dōjidaijin茅 原華山と同時代人 (Kayahara Kazan and his contemporaries) (Tokyo: Fuji shuppan, 1985). 29 at Peking University. The library of Peking University still has some old Japanese magazines that were edited by Kayahara, and these magazines were apparently donated by none other than Li Dazhao.17 Kayahara Kazan (1870-1952) In the field of journalism, Kayahara contributed to the development of democracy in modern Japan. He is considered to be the first person to use the expression minpon shugi民本主義 as a Japanese equivalent for the term “democracy.” In his day he played an active role as a critic of Japanese continental expansionism. Why then has such an important man been completely ignored for such a long time? The answer may be that he had a tendency to change his opinions so frequently that he was dubbed a “chameleon.” 17 The list of Japanese magazines which Li Dazhao donated to the library in 1920 is printed in Beijing daxue rikan北京大学日刊, June 18, 1920. 30 In fact, he actually did become an opponent of democracy after he was defeated in the National Diet elections in 1915. But, it is also true that, in spite of this, he was exceedingly popular especially among the middlebrow readers of his time. If we take a look at a number of his books which covered everything under the sun from daily life to cosmology, we can easily see that they were beautifully written and composed of numerous quotations from philosophers of the world, such as Emerson, Thomas Carlyle, Bergson, Rudolf Eucken, Edward Carpenter, Confucius, and others. It was with this rather pedantic style that he made a name for himself. Now, we can more easily understand why Li Dazhao’s writings were so difficult and full of quotations from philosophers. It is undoubtedly because Kayahara’s writings were that way rather than because Li’s thought itself was terribly profound. It is interesting to note that the general reputations today of Li’s writings and Kayahara’s writings are as different as day and night. One is highly reputed as a philosophical thinker, the “father of Chinese Marxism,” and the other a worthless “chameleon” critic. What they actually had to say was almost identical. Of course, this is not to say that Li Dazhao was just a middlebrow writer who dazzled his readers with Kayahara’s penchant for quoting from others, or that Li Dazhao’s thought had no philosophical meaning. Surely, Li Dazhao’s paying attention to Kayahara and other Japanese socialists tells us something about his thought. What I want to emphasize here is simply that we need to take the intellectual environment into consideration when we analyze the thought of a historical figure, and we need to distinguish what he created from he copied. No thinker, especially in the modern age, lives in complete seclusion, not reading books, magazines, and newspapers. This is natural enough, but it seems many historians especially of modern China still tend to identify a person’s writings solely with his or her thought. Let us return to the relationship between the Chinese understanding of Marxism and Japan. As far as the prevalence of socialism in China was concerned, the influence of Japan was overwhelming. From 1919 to 1921 when the early Communist organization was under way, thirty-six books concerning socialism were published in China, thirty-one of them were translations, and twenty-two were translated from Japanese. By “books concerning socialism,” I include critiques of socialism. If we use the term in the limited sense, that is to say books written by Marx, Engels, or other Marxist figures, thirteen books out of eighteen that appeared in Chinese in these years were translations from Japanese, among them The Communist Manifesto and Socialism: Utopian and Scientific.18 One should note in passing that it was not until 1938, seventeen years after the founding of the CCP, that the first complete Chinese translation of Das Kapital appeared. As for articles on socialism published in magazines and newspapers in those early years, more than half were translations or adaptations of Japanese articles written by Kawakami Hajime, Sakai Toshihiko, Yamakawa Hitoshi, and others. The subsequent development of the Japanese Communist movement was much different from that of China. In Japan, the Communist movement was completely suppressed by the secret police before the Second World War and never developed even after the War. Nonetheless, we cannot overlook the fact that Chinese Marxism was, as well as other modern Western systems of thought, brought to China via Japan, and 18 For a more detailed list of socialist books at that time, see Ishikawa, Chūgoku kyōsantō seiritsu shi, pp.459-84. 31 Japanese interpretations of Marxism colored the characteristics of early Chinese Marxism to a significant degree. For instance, Kawakami Hajime’s understanding of Marxism which emphasized the decisive human factor in the development of history helps explain why Chinese Communists could accept Marxist theory which otherwise seemed so unsuited to China at that time. 32 In this way, Japanese Marxists provided some nourishment for the start of the Communist movement in China. But, they could not offer the Chinese much further information about Bolshevism, especially the idea of the Leninist Party, because in Japan while studies of Marxism were relatively allowed to develop as a field of scholarship, socialist activity and detailed information about Soviet Bolshevism were placed under tight controls. Chinese socialists and Communists certainly must also have needed this kind of data to develop their movement from study to action. Where did they get this new information about Bolshevism? As it turns out, it was not from Russia, but from Great Britain and the United States. Let me show visually the origins of Chinese Bolshevism. On the previous page, you will see a cover of Xin qingnian新青年 (New youth), the first organ of the Chinese Communist Party. The New Youth was first published in 1915 as a magazine introducing Western ideas and became an organ of the Shanghai Communist Group in the autumn of 1920. From this issue on, it started to introduce a large number of Bolshevik documents. With the change in the magazine’s character, the cover design was changed to this format, too. This design is so familiar among scholars of modern Chinese history that one can hardly be called a card-carrying Chinese historian if one are unfamiliar with it. But a closer look will reveal that something is wrong. The hands are being shaken across the Atlantic Ocean—strange indeed for a Chinese magazine. Stranger still is that no one has explained why, including mainland Chinese historians. 33 A look at the next picture (above) and one can easily see that the cover design of the New Youth was a copy of this. This is the emblem of the Socialist Party of America. In other words, the early CCP members by some chance found this emblem and clearly liked it a great deal, but where did they find it? I believe it was among the books or pamphlets published by Charles H. Kerr & Co. in Chicago, a company belonging to the Socialist Party of America. This company was at the time publishing numerous Communist documents, and many Chinese socialists often ordered books and magazines from it.19 Space does not permit a detailed discussion of the history of the American Communist movement, but what is obvious is that Chinese Communists obtained information about Bolshevism from American documents. The same is true of the second Party organ of the CCP, Gongchandang共產黨 (The Communist) published just after the New Youth. Its cover page, reproduced below, is also a copy. The English Communist was an organ of the Communist Party of Britain. It appears that Gongchandang was the Chinese edition of The Communist. And, indeed, the Chinese Gongchandang did publish translations of documents from the English Communist.20 In any event, these imitations are, in a sense, not strange at all, because the Chinese Communists were, so to speak, beginners in the founding of political parties and had no idea about the image of a so-called Communist Party and Communist activity before then. The imitations show that the early Chinese Communists tried to obtain the images of a Communist Party through the icons of other Communist Parties—those of the United States and Great Britain. To add just one more example, which has also been ignored before, the first platform adopted at the first party congress of the CCP was, for all intents and purposes, a carbon copy of that of the United Communist Party of America founded in May 1920.21 Many historians have found it rather puzzling that the first platform of the CCP was so radical in its call for socialism and the like in light of China’s economic condition at that time.22 But this can also be explained by the facts as outlined above. Thus, the influence of American socialism enables us to identify what might be called a “missing link” in the formation of Chinese socialism, tying the preceding influence of Japanese writings on Chinese Marxist theory with the ensuing one of doctrines from Russia via the United States and Great Britain. In other words, a wider perspective is needed in analyzing early Chinese Marxism. Only by using such a broad 19 Ke Bonian柯柏年, “Wo yi Makesi he Engesi zhuzuo de jiandan jingli我译马克思和恩格斯著 作的简单经历 (Short introduction concerning my translation of some writings of Marx and Engels),” in Makesi Engesi zhuzuo zai Zhongguo de chuanbo 马克思和恩格斯著作在中国的传 播 (The introduction of the writings of Marx and Engels into China) (Beijing: Renmin chubanshe, 1983). 20 For example, Zhenhuan 震寰, transl., “Gongchandang weilai de zeren”共产党未来的责任(The future responsibility of the Communist Party), Gongchandang 1 (November 1920) is a translation of Arthur McManus, “The Task awaiting the Communist Party,” The Communist 1 (August 1920). 21 “The Platform of the United Communist Party of America,” The Communist, June 12, 1920. This platform was translated and published in Gongchandang 2 (December 1920) before the first party congress of the CCP. 22 Steve A. Smith, A Road is Made: Communism in Shanghai, 1920-1927 (Richmond: Curzon Press, 2000), p.28. 34 international approach can we rise above such tired discussions of whether Chinese Marxism was homegrown or imported from Soviet Russia. 
work_n72443anzvbk5oatjlvvcivory	----	folklor / edebiyat 873 DOI: 10.22559/folklor.1006 folklor/edebiyat, cilt: 25, sayı: 100, 2019/4 Turkish and American Female Sephardic Children among Turkish Children in the 1950s1 1950’lerde Türk ve Amerikalı Kız Sefarad Çocuklar Türk Çocukların Arasında Fazıla Derya Agiş1* Abstract The aim and scope of this research was to discover the games appreciated by Turkish Sephardic, American Sephardic and Turkish Muslim female children in the 1950s, their environmental teachings, and transnationalism. Old people teach children games, which can also be transnational and narrated in other countries. Oral history interviews were conducted with these three groups of women, and they were asked about the metaphors in their childhood games. These informal chats also led to the discovery of some games played by female children. Similarities of these metaphors were used to suggest a peace building theory based on environmental humanities. Accordingly, the metaphorical concepts in female children’s games were analyzed through the conceptual metaphor theory developed by Lakoff and Johnson (1980) for deciphering their environmentalist teachings and their impacts on the formation of children. As the transnational nature of games makes one understand that children would play together regardless of their creed and ethnicity in the 1950s, such games are recommended to be taught to today’s children who rarely play games outside their houses with other children. As a result of this study, it was found that conceptual metaphors based on the protection of the environment were similar in certain games regardless of children’s cultural backgrounds. The * Dr., Brandeis University, Hadassah-Brandeis Institute, deryaagis@gmail.com. ORCID ID 0000-0001-7871-0932. folklor / edebiyat 874 conceptual metaphors of “NATURE IS A MOTHER,” “ANIMALS ARE LOVE,” and “NATURE IS A SHELTER” were commonly used in these children’s games, and these similarities should be taught children by encouraging them to recognize and adapt the concept of unity in diversity. Consequently, the crimes committed by children against animals should be prevented, and children should learn the ways to preserve the environment and nature easily without damaging any plants or animals. It is crucial to teach children similar games with similar elements are played in different parts of the world. In these games, similar environmental, educative, and metaphorical objects and word games may also be used. Keywords: environmental education, ecocriticism, transnationalism, childhood games, Turkish culture, cognitive metaphors Öz Bu araştırmanın amacı ve kapsamı 1950’lerde Türk Sefarad, Amerikalı Sefarad ve Türk Müslüman kız çocukların oynadığı oyunları, çevreci öğretilerini ve uluslar- ötesi özelliklerini keşfetmektir. Yaşlı insanlar, çocuklara başka ülkelerde de kültü- rel aktarım aracılığıyla öğrenilmiş olan ve anlatılagelen bazı oyunlar öğretir. Bu üç grup kadın ile sözlü tarih mülakatları yapılmış ve çocukluk oyunlarındaki meta- forlar / eğretilemeler kendilerine sorulmuştur. Bu çalışma için yapılan resmi olma- yan bu sohbetler, aynı zamanda, kız çocuklarının oynadığı bazı oyunların keşfine de yol açmıştır. Kullandıkları metaforların benzerlikleri, çevresel beşerî bilimlere dayanan bir barış inşası teorisi önermek için kullanılmaktadır. Bu bağlamda, kız çocukların oyunlarındaki metaforlar / eğretilemeler Lakoff ve Johnson (1980)’ın geliştirdiği kavramsal metafor kuramı açısından çevreci öğretilerini ve çocuk for- masyonundaki etkilerini çözmek için incelenmiştir. Bazı oyunların uluslar-ötesi doğası 1950’lerde çocukların inanç ve etnik kökenleri ne olursa olsun birlikte oynadıklarını göstermekte olduğundan, bu oyunların, günümüzde nadiren başka çocuklarla evlerinin dışında oyun oynayan çocuklara öğretilmesi tavsiye edilir. Bu çalışmanın sonucunda, çocukların farklı kültürel geçmişlerine rağmen, birta- kım oyunlarda çevrenin korunmasıyla ilgili olan kavramsal metaforların benzer olduğu bulunmuştur. “DOĞA BİR ANNEDİR,” “HAYVANLAR SEVGİDİR” ve “DOĞA BİR SIĞINAKTIR / BARINAKTIR” kültürel metaforları / eğretilemeleri bu çocuk oyunlarında genel olarak kullanılmışlardır ve bu benzerlikler çocukları çok-çeşitlilikte birlik kavramını tanımaya ve benimsemeye teşvik ederek onlara öğretilmelidirler. Sonuç olarak, çocuklar tarafından hayvanlara karşı işlenen suçla- rın önüne geçilebilinir ve çocuklar çiçeklere ya da hayvanlara zarar vermeden çev- reyi ve doğayı koruma yollarını kolayca öğrenebilirler. Çocuklara benzer öğeleri taşıyan benzer oyunların dünyanın farklı yerlerinde oynandığını öğretilmesi aşırı derecede önemlidir. Bu oyunlar da benzer çevreci, eğitsel ve metaforik nesneler ve kelime oyunları da kullanılmakta olabilir. Anahtar sözcükler: çevre, eğitim, kültürel aktarımlar, çocukluk, Türk kültürü, Sefarad kültürü, metaforlar folklor / edebiyat 875 Introduction This research intends to reveal the games appreciated by Turkish Sephardic, American Sephardic and Muslim Turkish female children in the 1950s. Old people teach their children some games, which can also be transnational and narrated in other countries. At this point, one can mention ‘diffusionism’ about the transnationality of childhood games that have been played in Turkey and the United States since the 1950s (about diffusionism, see Kroeber, 1940). Such type of diffusionism influenced the transnational identities of Sephardic Turkish and Muslim Turkish children who have played the same games that contributed to their character and identity formation. These games have led children to construct friendly, team- work respective, and philanthropist behavior. Moreover, some of these games made children love and protect the environment. Thus, this study intends to analyze the games that teach multicultural children to protect the environment together without discriminating others due to their identities, but to collaborate to the oneness of humanity. The aim and scope of this research project is to discover the games appreciated by Turkish Sephardic, American Sephardic, and Muslim Turkish children, and how these games are so transnational to be narrated in other countries as well. Besides, this study also aims at deciphering the underlying meanings of these games about peace-building strategies and traditions based on moral education, mainly environmental education. Consequently, the main aim of this study is to develop a method of sociological and political peace-building theory of environmental protection based on childhood literature. For this reason, oral history interviews in the forms of informal chats were conducted with a Turkish Sephardic, an American Sephardic, and two Turkish Muslim women, and they also depicted their childhood games. Additionally, this study answers the following five empirical research questions: 1) What types of games do these children play? 2) What kinds of metaphors are employed in these games? 3) How is it taught to respect and protect the environment via these games? 4) As Harris (2002) divides peace education into five subfields, how are the following taught to the children?: 1- “human rights education,” 2- “environmental education,” 3- “international education,” 4- “conflict resolution education,” and 5- “development education” (Harris, 2002). 5) Are there any transnational elements in these games, since Turkish and American Jewish families may have transnational identities for being Israeli, Turkish, Spanish, and American at the same time? Some Turkish Jews are Sephardic, thus, they have Spanish origins, since their ancestors have been expelled from Spain in 1492, they immigrated to the Ottoman Empire, and to the United States afterwards. 1. Theoretical framework: Environmental humanities “Ecocriticism is a subfield of literary scholarship involved in studying the relationship between literature and the physical environment” as it was originally regarded in the 1990s; however, today’s ecocriticism is an interdisciplinary field of social sciences, humanities, and folklor / edebiyat 876 ecological research (Issitt, 2015). William Rueckert coined the term of “ecocriticism” in his essay “Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism” in 1978; the term derives from “the Greek words oikos, meaning ‘house,’ and kritikos, meaning ‘judge’” (Issitt, 2015). Leo Marx’s book The Machine in the Garden, published in 1964 observes the environmental devastation descriptions in “American literature of technology impinging on the pastoral lifestyle. In the book, Marx looks at how authors such as Herman Melville, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Mark Twain used this theme in novels, speaking about situations where the introduction of new technological innovations had a drastic, often destructive impact on the natural environment” (Issitt, 2015). Therefore, my study does not investigate the contemporary games children play with computers, or other machines, but it analyzes the games they play individually for their personal development, or as such a perfect team to cooperate and build new skills of communication and empathy-building. Moreover, Cheryll Glotfelty and her associates founded the Association for the Study of Literature and Environment (ASLE) in 1992; besides, in 1993, the same Association for the Study of Literature and Environment (ASLE) started to publish a new journal entitled ISLE: Interdisciplinary Studies in Literature and Environment (Issitt, 2015). Cheryll Glotfelty edited The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology together with Harold Fromm in 1996; the Modern Language Association has organized various panels; a journal entitled The Electronic Green Journal was published, and successively, the Association for the Study of Literature and the Environment was established (Burbery, 2012). Regarding the link between ecocriticism, environmental humanities, environmental education, and children’s games, one can suggest that children can learn how to protect the environment via team-work, or through individual efforts. ‘Team-work,’ ‘self-esteem,’ ‘communication skills,’ ‘self-discovery,’ ‘anger management,’ and ‘coping skills’ are very crucial in the selection of games for children, since they develop all via them (see Jones, 1998). Muslim and Jewish Israeli children’s games had previously been analyzed by Eifermann (1968). She asked about some game choices among male and female students; these games included marbles, fivestones, hopscotch, football, dancing, skipping, and cops and robbers, et cetera. My study differs from hers for analyzing the similarities between the rules of games and how they teach children to respect the environment. According to Feder (2014), “recognizing the existence of other animal cultures—and, in so doing, rejecting various ideologies of nature, particularly that of human supremacy— challenges structures of power that oppress both human and nonhuman animals” (p. 2); in 1953, Kinji Imanishi observed the ethnographic behavior of animals on the island of Koshima; moreover, in September 1953, Satsue Mito observed an eighteen-year-old macaque called Imo that would have cleaned a sweet potato before eating it (p. 8). In this study, we will discover how children were developing affection towards animals, plants, and natural resources through group and individual games in the 1950s. folklor / edebiyat 877 2. Games for loving the nature and conceptual metaphors Children’s games should be divided into two as group and individual games. Group games should be divided into sitting games (games played by sitting) and moving games (games played by running, walking, skipping, or rushing). At this point, I will refer to the Cognitive Metaphor Theory (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980) for deciphering the underlying meanings of objects used in the games of children. As an example to the cognitive conceptual metaphors, one can cite, “TIME IS MONEY” (Lakoff and Johnson, 1980, p. 7): Picture 1. Time is very precious; one must invest her or his time in doing good work, and working hard; both concepts must never be wasted; however, one must invest in their future by spending or saving money and dedicating or saving time (graph originally from Agiş, 2007: 24). Abstract objects may be compared to concrete objects for their matching particularities leading to the formation of conceptual metaphors, as in “TIME IS MONEY.” In this study, the similarities of the conceptual metaphors in some games are used to suggest a peace building theory based on environmental humanities. 2. 1. Group games 2. 1. 1. Sitting games Regarding previous research conducted in Israel, it has been found that children who live in rural places are more inclined to do adult work, since they assist their parents on the fields in farming, gardening, raising crops, and feeding animals; thus, children living in the kibbutz and villages are raised, playing with real objects (Eifermann, 1968: 189). Eifermann (1968) observed that children’s games or play activities were associated with their real-world needs and abilities (p. 2). She (1968) obtained this result through a two-stage observation in twenty- seven Israeli schools between 1964 and 1965; however, just one school participated in both stages; “the schools were selected so as to constitute a balanced design” in accordance with their geographic locations (North, Center, South), the socio-economic levels of students, their grades, their community structures, and their cultural backgrounds as Arabs or Jews (p. 2). folklor / edebiyat 878 Accordingly, some sitting games of American Sephardic, Turkish Muslim and Sephardic female children included growing flowers in vases, feeding pets, including cats, dogs, ducklings, and canaries, and playing the house, generally imitating their relatives. One of the Sephardic women was making carpets with flower designs, when she was very young. Some also dressed paper dolls who visited their friends’ paper dolls. Oren (2008) plays games with children to conduct therapies with them for their emotional development. She (2008) asserts that “many children aged 6-12 refuse or avoid imaginary play and ask instead to play games - board games or sports - during therapy sessions. While psychotherapy with children commonly uses imaginary play, as well as projective techniques such as drawing or drama, the use of board games is less common.” My interviewees told me that all appreciated a game called “Kızma Birader” (‘Don’t get angry, brother / sister!’): four stones are castles; players throw a dice: number six is necessary for starting to move for each player; when a player gets a number six, s/he can rethrow the dice. A player is free to move her or his stones everywhere, and s/he can take her or his rivals’ stones, and successively, those whose stones were taken must return to their castles and restart the game, when a number six comes, when they throw the dice. A person who gathers all of her or his four stones in the targeted area becomes the winner. If one includes flowers or animals as awards in the game, or calls the stones with plant or animal names, love towards nature is taught in this sitting group game that can be played with natural stones painted by children. Cognitive metaphors associated with this game are “COURAGE IS A LION” (the winner can be called a lion in both Turkish and Sephardic cultures), “COLORS ARE FRIENDLY RIVALS” (because the stones are painted in four different colors for four different people who are friends, but become rivals in the game), and “EMPATHY IS NATURE,” as other rivals understand the anger of a person who is about to lose the game by returning to her or his castle, after having lost one of her or his stones. Regarding the game of fivestones, five round stones are taken. The first player is selected as follows: the stones are thrown in the air, the one who gathers the greatest number of stones starts the game. A person has to catch all the stones by throwing just a stone in the air to win the game. The cognitive metaphors associated with the game are “RIVALRY IS AN OBSTACLE” and “FRIENDSHIP IS AN ETERNAL FLAME” alongside “LOVE FOR NATURE IS A TREASURE,” since stones are products of the nature, rivalry occurs just during the game, and friends stay friends after the game. Children would also play with colorful marbles made up of glass, produced of heated sand: sometimes they try to place their marbles into a specific hole, and sometimes they throw their marbles towards the wall from a hall, and the fastest wins. The cognitive metaphors involved in the game may be “CURIOSITY IN THE NATURE IS A TOY-BOX” and “COLORS ARE PRODUCTS OF NATURE,” since marbles are formed of glass, and colors could be produced with some plants, as the marbles have different colors. Moreover, regarding a game called “yağ satarım, bal satarım” (‘I am selling oil and honey’), children would form a circle and sit, while singing “I am selling oil and honey; my master died; I am selling them,” the id would put a handkerchief behind a child who would become the id, if s/he could not catch the id. The cognitive metaphors underlying the game folklor / edebiyat 879 are “SPOILING THE NATURE IS MONEY” and “OIL AND HONEY ARE JOBS”; for this reason, the children learn that nature provides people with food, jobs as farmers, business owners, and sellers, and some money. Children may start to raise crops in vases, after having conceived these metaphors. 2. 1. 2. Moving games Female Turkish and Turkish and American Sephardic children would play hide-and-seek in the 1950s: one used to be the id; and while the id was counting up-to ten, others would hide, and the one whom the id first discovered would become the id. This game can teach children about nature, if it is played in a garden. “NATURE IS A SHELTER” is a cognitive metaphor, representing this moving game. In addition, a game called “yakartop” (‘burning ball’) that was played even in the 1950s teaches children how to become a team. At least three children are necessary for the game; each player is a member of a team among two teams; some stay in the middle, and each team member tries to push the ball to the rivals in the middle; if the ball touches them, they are out of the play, but if they catch the ball, their team earns a point; the team all of whose members are caught loses the game. If played in a garden, the children will appreciate the nature, and their teams should have animal names such as boars, lions, horses, cats, et cetera. Thus, the cognitive metaphors associated with each game played in open areas are “NATURE IS A MOTHER” and “ANIMALS ARE LOVE.” 2. 2. Individual games The games that female Turkish Sephardic, American Sephardic, and Turkish Muslim children played included dressing and talking to paper dolls, plastic dolls, and animal figures, and gardening in the 1950s. Girls would play the house on their own with individual friends. They had an intention to protect animals, thus, pets. Most children would also sing short songs in these times, for instance, the following: Yağmur yağıyor (it is raining); Seller akıyor (water is flowing down the streets); Arap kızı camdan bakıyor (The Arabic girl is looking through the window). As the rain is a natural event necessary for the growth of plants, this little song brings joy to children. Another Turkish spring song was “Arı vız vız vız…” (‘Bee, flying… buzz, buzz…’); such a song can teach children that bees make honey, and they do not sting people, if they are not angry. Moreover, the following Sephardic song was for adolescents; however, it depicts sadness and expatriation through the rain, the rain drops on trees, and mountains, and serves to build empathy between human emotions and nature; children may learn the tragedies of being folklor / edebiyat 880 expelled for racial reasons in this sad song through saddening nature descriptions; by the way, Sephardic children had heard Judeo-Spanish songs from their relatives in the 1950s: Arvoles Yoran Por Luvya (Trees Cry with the Rain) Arvoles yoran por luvyas (Trees cry with the rain) I montanias por ayres (And the mountains with air), Ansi yoran los mis ojos (So are my eyes crying), Por mi kerida amante (for my dear lover). (twice) Torno i digo (I turn and say), Ke va ser demi (It will not be complete), En tierras ajenas (On foreign lands), Yo me va murir (I will die) (refrain) (Shaul, 1994, p. 124) “NATURE IS A HUMAN BEING WITH EMOTIONS” summarizes the song above as a conceptual metaphor. Moreover, more interestingly, Turkish Sephardic children would consider their Muslim friends as brothers or sisters in the Ottoman Empire; the minority Jews were granted their equality as citizens in the Ottoman Empire in 1908 during the reign of Sultan Abduhamid II; consequently, children liked this following song (Shaul, 1994, p. 128): Turkos i Judios (Turks and Jews) Turkos i Judios eramos. (We were Turks and Jews.) Todos otomanos. (Each of us an Ottoman / all of us were Ottomans) Mos tomimos de las manos. (We held our hands) Jurimos de ser ermanos. (We promised to be brothers and sisters) Ya la libertad se va azer (Liberty will be offered), ya nuestra sangre se va verter (our blood will change its flow, going towards there), Por l’amor de la Turkiya, et cetera (for the love of Turkey, et cetera). Regarding other commonalities, or shared values between Turks and Sephardim, we have a Sephardic Djoha, or a Turkish Nasrettin Hodja, an imam from Hortu who moved to Aksehir in 1237 (Sansal, 2005). Let us discover the transnationality of a Hodja anecdote: “Djoha kere azer yoghurt” (‘Hodja wants to make yoghurt’) narrated in Shaul (1994: 92): this anecdote was originally Turkish (see Masal. org, 2019). One day Hodja Nasrettin (Djoha in Judeo-Spanish) decides to transfer all the lake (“mar”, thus sea in the Judeo-Spanish anecdote) into yoghurt, and mixes yoghurt in it with a large spoon; a man tells him that the lake, or the sea is formed of water, not milk, and the lake, or the sea cannot become yoghurt; Hodja answers, “I know, folklor / edebiyat 881 but if it becomes yoghurt.” This anecdote teaches that “NATURE IS MAGIC,” “MILK IS MAGIC,” “WATER IS WEALTH,” “NATURE IS A MOTHER,” “ANIMALS ARE LOVE,” and “MILK AND WATER ARE TREASURES” as conceptual metaphors. The nature is regarded as a protective mother whose milk product should be immense for its many creatures and spectacular artistic views such as seas and lakes. Cows also produce milk, and they do not harm people, thus, they are love, or lovable. If we teach children similar anecdotes, songs, and games, present in different cultures, they will understand that human beings are similar, too, and they will be more inclined to be peace-builders rather than haters and fighters. Consequently, conceptual metaphors should also be taught to children from different cultures so that they can perceive why one needs to protect and care about the environment and world peace. Conclusion To conclude, one sees the similarities in the games played by Turkish Muslim, Turkish Sephardic, and American Sephardic girls in the 1950s. Conceptual metaphors based on the protection of the environment are also similar in these group or individual games. Therefore, one can refer to universal peace-building and environmental education strategies. Therefore, we discovered that children play similar games and employ similar environmental objects regardless of their cultural backgrounds. We also found that cognitive metaphors such as “NATURE IS A MOTHER,” “ANIMALS ARE LOVE,” and “NATURE IS A SHELTER” are used in these children’s games. Besides, children are taught to respect and protect the environment by playing in gardens, parks, and beaches, using plants, animals, soil, sand, stones, and marbles. They develop a passion for these natural objects alongside love towards nature. Additionally, as Harris (2002) divides peace education into five subfields, the children learn these subfields via group games, interacting with other children, by losing or winning games, being “id,” and catching and tagging others, as long as a hard worker wins: 1- “human rights education,” 2- “environmental education,” 3- “international education,” 4- “conflict resolution education,” and 5- “development education” (Harris, 2002). In sum, there are many transnational elements in these children’s games, since Turkish and American Jewish families may have transnational identities for being Israeli, Turkish, Spanish, and American at the same time, as one sees in Nasrettin Hodja tales. If children discover the commonalities between the other children’s traditions and games, they become more pacifist and empathetic. Notlar 1 This research was presented at the Social Science History Association’s annual conference in Chicago from November 17 through November 20, 2016 in Chicago, U.S.A folklor / edebiyat 882 Bibliography Agiş, F. D. (2007). A comparative cognitive pragmatic approach to the Judeo-Spanish and Turkish proverbs and idioms that express emotions. (Master’s thesis). Hacettepe University, Ankara, Turkey. Burbery, T. J. (2012). Ecocriticism and Christian literary scholarship. Christianity and Literature V. 61(2), pp. 189-214. Feder, H. (2014). Ecocriticism and the idea of culture: Biology and the bildungsroman. Ashgate Publishing Company: Burlington, VT, U.S.A. Jones, A. (1998). 104 activities that build: Self-esteem, teamwork, communication, anger management, self-discovery, and coping skills. Richland. (Paperback – 1 Jan 1998). Richland, WA: Rec Room. Kroeber, A. L. (1940). Stimulus diffusion. American anthropologist V. 42 (1), pp. 1-20. Lakoff, G., and Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors we live by. Chicago: University of Chicago. Masal.org. (2019). Göle yoğurt çalmak fıkrası. Retrieved from https://www.masal.org/gole-yogurt- calmak-fikrasi.html. Oren, A. (2008). The use of board games in child psychotherapy. Journal of Child Psychotherapy, V. 34 (3), pp. 364–383. Sansal, B. (2005). About Turkey. Retrieved from http://www.allaboutturkey.com/nasreddin.htm. Shaul, E. (1994). Folklor de los Judios de Turkiya. Isis: Istanbul. Elektronic resources Eifermann, R. R. (1968, June). School children’s games. Final report. Jerusalem: Hebrew University of Jerusalem (Israel). Retrieved from: https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/ED024061.pdf Harris, I. M. (2002, April 1-5). Peace education theory. Paper presented at the 83rd American Educational Research Association. New Orleans, LA. Retrieved from https://archive.org/stream/ERIC_ ED478728/ERIC_ED478728_djvu.txt. Issitt, M. (2015). Ecocriticism. Salem Press Encyclopedia of Literature Research Starters, EBSCO host (accessed October 23, 2016). Sansal, B. (2005). About Turkey. Retrieved from http://www.allaboutturkey.com/nasreddin.htm 
work_n7iagyxuejhtlbouoipmgdjth4	----	religions Editorial Claiming the Term “Liberal” in Academic Religious Discourse Sofia Betancourt 1, Dan McKanan 2,*, Tisa Wenger 3 and Sheri Prud’homme 4 1 Theology and Ethics, Starr King School for the Ministry, Oakland, CA 94613, USA; sbetancourt@sksm.edu 2 Harvard Divinity School, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA 02138, USA 3 Yale Divinity School, Yale University, New Haven, CT 06511, USA; tisa.wenger@yale.edu 4 Religion and Education, Starr King School for the Ministry, Oakland, CA 94613, USA; sprudhomme@sksm.edu * Correspondence: dmckanan@hds.harvard.edu Received: 20 May 2020; Accepted: 11 June 2020; Published: 24 June 2020 ���������� ������� 1. Introduction Sheri Prud’homme The three papers which follow were originally presented at the triennial Unitarian Universalist Convocation in 2016, sponsored by the Unitarian Universalist History and Heritage Society and Collegium, an Association for Liberal Religious Studies. This panel sought to push our thinking as religious liberals about the very term “liberal” as it is employed, or not, by Unitarian Universalists in academic discourse in religious studies, theology, and ethics. The conversation remains as relevant today as it was nearly three years ago. In academic religious discourse, “liberal” is a contested term. Many scholars with roots in Unitarian Universalism do not claim the term “liberal” in their scholarly work. The liberal theologies group of the American Academy of Religious is a relatively small group that has at times in recent years struggled to receive enough papers to assemble a vital session. The Journal of Liberal Religion has not been published since 2009. The two Unitarian Universalist seminaries do not lead with the term in their promotional materials. Meadville Lombard Theological School has retained the word “liberal” in its mission, but it is several layers behind the first page of its website. Starr King School for the Ministry does not use the word in its mission, opting instead for the phrase “progressive religious leadership”, but “liberal” appears in some course descriptions. Gary Dorrien notes in a 2013 Religion Dispatches article that “liberal Protestant” is not a term used at Union Theological Seminary nor most other theological schools once known as bastions of liberal Protestant theology. To do so, he writes, “would smack of provincialism and the cultural presumptions of the mainline from a bygone time. And it would exclude our faculty and students that lack any connection to liberal Protestantism”.1 However, Unitarian Universalism continues to be a religious movement that utilizes the term “liberal” in a positive light, in spite of the complexity of the term. The professional organization for Unitarian Universalist religious educators bears the name Liberal Religious Educators’ Association. Collegium calls itself “an association for liberal religious studies”. Paul Rasor, an ordained Unitarian Universalist minister and scholar, subtitled his latest book (Rasor 2013) Reclaiming Prophetic Witness with the phrase “Liberal Religion in the Public Square”. Unitarian Universalism is not entirely alone in claiming liberal religion. On 23 July 2013, an article “A Religious Legacy, With Its Leftward Tilt, 1 Gary Dorrien, “The Protestant Mainline Makes a (Literary) Comeback”. Religion Dispatches (5 August 2013): http: //religiondispatches.org/the-protestant-mainline-makes-a-literary-comeback/ (accessed on 6 May 2019). Religions 2020, 11, 311; doi:10.3390/rel11060311 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://religiondispatches.org/the-protestant-mainline-makes-a-literary-comeback/ http://religiondispatches.org/the-protestant-mainline-makes-a-literary-comeback/ http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/rel11060311 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions https://www.mdpi.com/2077-1444/11/6/311?type=check_update&version=2 Religions 2020, 11, 311 2 of 8 Is Reconsidered” by Jennifer Schuessler in the New York Times noted a surge of new writing on liberal Protestantism. Rabbi Eric H. Yoffee, President Emeritus of the Union for Reformed Judaism wrote a 21 November 2016 article in the Huffington Post entitled “Now is Liberal Religion’s Moment”. A number of scholars are writing on liberal Islam including Mustafa Akyol’s 2011 book Islam Without Extremes (W. W. Norton & Company), which is an argument for “Muslim liberalism”. Given critiques from neo-orthodoxy on the one hand and from liberationists on the other, what are some current positions of Unitarian Universalist scholars on claiming the term liberal in academic discourse? How is the term currently defined? For scholars of what has traditionally been known as liberal religion, what work is waiting to be done to complicate, reclaim, or reject the term? Three papers follow, and each adds important elements to the conversation. Sofia Betancourt, Associate Professor of Unitarian Universalist Theologies and Ethics at Starr King School for the Ministry, urges us to prioritize “liberation” in pairing it with “liberal”, centering praxis along with the voices and experiences that liberal religion has historically silenced or pushed to the margins so that we can dismantle white supremacy at the foundations of our faith. She argues that liberation demands relational, accountable work informed by solidarity, moving beyond predominantly white cultural heritages and norms, to “resacralize what has been desecrated through dominance and oppression” and learn from those “whose collective survival and promised liberation can truly remake the world”. Dan McKanan, Ralph Waldo Emerson Unitarian Universalist Association Senior Lecturer in Divinity at Harvard Divinity School, argues that the tools of liberalism—individual autonomy, free-thinking, and self-criticism—remain relevant resources in the struggle against oppression’s myriad forms, including neoliberalism’s glorification of the free market. At the same time, he cautions against liberalism’s tendency to be biased against all tradition and everything rooted in the past. He concludes he is open to the possibility that the term “liberal” itself excludes others and suggests we may need to “find new words for the perennial quest for freedom”. Tisa Wenger, Associate Professor of American Religious History, Divinity School and American Studies at Yale University begins with her historical scholarship that reveals the complicity of liberals in the United States with racism, settler colonialism, and imperialism as well as illuminating the liberal foundations of movements for social justice, human flourishing, and ecological sustainability. She notes that religious liberalism’s concern for an individual quest for truth and meaning and the freedom of conscience can easily foster privilege, complacency, hierarchies, and exclusions without attending to inequities, including neoliberalism’s extending of liberal ideals to the free market. She calls for “Unitarian Universalists to identify themselves not with ‘religious liberalism’ or ‘liberal religion’ but as a relational community of flourishing and liberation for all”. In the continual unfolding of Unitarian Universalism, it is my hope that these papers will be fruitful conversation partners for scholars and ministers alike as we make our way forward into the coming decades. 2. Toward a Liberal and Liberating Faith Sofia Betancourt Since the time of our panel conversation at the Unitarian Universalist Convocation in 2016, I have witnessed an increasing engagement with the utility of the term “liberal” in our current context. In just three years, Unitarian Universalist theologians and religious leaders of all types have been in conversation about the potential shift in our movement to embrace a liberal theology with liberation at its core. This is a complex intention given certain aspects of our history and our demographics, even as those continue to shift and diversify with time. However, there is no question for me that our relevance as a tradition that centers its religious expression on shared ethics and the promotion of justice depends on the renewal of our tradition as a liberal and liberating faith. Liberation must serve as our measure of integrity in the long overdue work to dismantle the influences and legacies of white supremacy and the wide range of dehumanizing injustices in our midst. Religions 2020, 11, 311 3 of 8 Three years ago, when our colleague first reached out to our group to propose this discussion, I had not invested much energy into thinking about my position on the term “liberal”. I had been in several conversations about Unitarian Universalist scholars and why we might or might not claim our Unitarian Universalist identities within the academy. Using the term “liberal” seemed a forgone conclusion after making the decision to claim a denominational label. Recognizing that we understand an uncritical lack of reflection as a moral failing in our movement, I acknowledged at the outset that I do not use the term “liberal” in my research or writing unless in very specific situations such as giving a paper within the liberal theologies group at the American Academy of Religion. Instead, I fall into the camp of working toward “liberation” and on and with a liberatory theoethics. Complicating this practice is my periodic work in the parish, where I regularly preach about our liberal and liberating faith. There is something vital in the interplay of these two terms—“liberal” and “liberation”. My research in Womanist and Latina Feminist theoethics owes a great deal to liberation theologies—both the black liberation scholarship founded by James Cone and the Latin American liberation theologies established by Gustavo Gutierrez. These two co-evolving lines of thought require of me something that I am regularly missing within liberal theologies, and that is praxis. Praxis as a secular term challenges us to engage the world through a combination of reflection and action. I am particularly convicted by the work of Brazilian educator and philosopher Paulo Freire who in his Pedagogy of the Oppressed places praxis within the deeper framework of a liberatory communal education process that pushes societal evolution, when he coins the term conscientization. Simply put, conscientization is “the process of developing a critical awareness of one’s social reality through reflection and action”.2 Freire is speaking to a condition that I often find problematic within Western philosophy and theology, and that is the search for an overarching, definitive, singular Universal truth. By this, I do not mean a final truth or a moment when revelation can be sealed at long last and we can all find other things to do with our time. However, tensions in our work between the particularist approach that seeks to return long silenced voices that have been pushed to the margins back to the center of the theoethical task and the desire for a singular universal truth that can be applied to all inquiries remain central to this question. The legacies of white supremacy and all forms of domination are easily hidden within the call for a universally applicable truth. I situate myself, and my scholarship, with Latina feminist and Womanist scholars who argue for holding multiple truths as equally important and shaping of our work. Freire offers critical resources for this approach because he is driven by the creation of methods of learning that return agency to marginalized communities by interrupting the imposed norms of a dominant culture and the kind of internalized oppression that prevents real understanding of the situations in which we find ourselves, thus thwarting revolutionary change. He himself writes “reflection upon situationality is reflection about the very condition of existence. [It is] critical thinking by means of which people discover each other to be ‘in a situation.’ Only as this situation ceases to present itself as a dense, enveloping reality . . . and they can come to perceive it as an objective-problematic situation—only then can commitment exist. Humankind emerge from their submersion and acquire the ability to intervene in reality as it is unveiled. Intervention in reality—historical awareness itself—thus represents a step forward from emergence, and results from the [conscientization] of the situation. [Conscientization] is the deepening of the attitude of awareness characteristic of all emergence”.3 I want to honor the work of the Rev. Dr. Katie G. Cannon, who first taught conscientization as a vital ingredient in Womanist methodologies. I also want to acknowledge that there is room for action within our own liberal religious discourse as we have understood it over time. James Luther Adams regularly offered us four important aspects of liberal thought, and one of them is the “moral obligation 2 “Concepts Used by Paolo Freire”, Freire Institute, accessed 3 May 2019, https://www.freire.org/paulo-freire/concepts-used- by-paulo-freire/. 3 Paulo Freire, Pedagogy of the Oppressed 30th Anniversary Edition, trans. Myra Bergman Ramos (New York, Continuum, 2001), p. 109. https://www.freire.org/paulo-freire/concepts-used-by-paulo-freire/ https://www.freire.org/paulo-freire/concepts-used-by-paulo-freire/ Religions 2020, 11, 311 4 of 8 to direct one’s efforts toward the establishment of democratic community”.4 What is missing for me is the prior step of working together in community to unmask for ourselves that “dense, enveloping reality” that Freire writes about that keeps us unaware of, or resigned to, the dehumanizing realities of our day-to-day living. Consequently, there is still utility in the term “liberal” but not on its own. “Liberal” without “liberation” reads too much of dominant cultural assumptions that liberation is implied while only rarely doing the relational, accountable work driven by an informed solidarity to better understand what is needed. One practical expression of the ramifications of relying solely on liberal concepts to express our highest values in life is the reality that most academic discussions of liberal theology are held within groups of scholars who are entirely white. I simply expect to be the only scholar of color in the room when liberal thought is at the center of the theological task. As we work to dismantle the white supremacy within our midst and at the foundations of our faith, we must prioritize the wisdom of liberation that comes from minds and lived experiences beyond our predominantly white cultural heritages and norms. If we are to be saved together, and resacralize what has been desecrated through dominance and oppression, we must relinquish our control over the meaning of faithful living and center a new learning on those whose collective survival and promised liberation can truly remake the world. 3. Claiming the Term “Liberal” Dan McKanan Liberalism is a tradition of rebellion against inherited authority that seeks to free individuals and communities from bondage of the body, mind, and spirit. The tools it uses to liberate people include individual autonomy, free thinking, and self-criticism. It is important to recognize these as tools, not as the exclusive ends of liberalism. Some people have suggested that liberalism cares more about freedom of the mind than of the body, but I do not think that is quite true. Eighteenth- and nineteenth-century liberals were often deeply committed to freeing the bodies of serfs and slaves from coerced labor, and the bodies of women from sexual exploitation. It is true, nevertheless, that liberals have generally assumed that the freedom of the mind is an indispensable tool in struggles to free bodies. Liberalism remains relevant as long as people are oppressed by forms of traditional authority, including patriarchy, monarchy, dogmatic religious authority, and caste and racial hierarchies. I count myself a liberal in part because these forms of authority are still very much with us. On the other hand, much of the injustice that people face today can be laid at the feet of liberalism itself. Two centuries ago, Adam Smith promoted capitalism as a liberating alternative to the self-aggrandizing and warlike practices of monarchical governments. The end result has been a network of exploitative corporations that wreak havoc on both human lives and the environment. However, if liberalism is part of the problem here, it can also be part of the solution. At least since the Social Gospel and Progressive movements of a century ago, many liberals have recognized corporate capitalism as a distorted form of liberalism that puts the rights of investors ahead of the right of workers to feed their families and shape the circumstances of their labor. For these liberals, self-criticism was the paramount liberal value, and it allowed them to remain faithfully liberal even as they repudiated earlier liberal commitments to a free market economy. Liberalism thus remains a relevant resource for the struggle against two contrasting but intertwined evils that beset the world today. To the extent that the world is threatened by white supremacy, heteronomativity, patriarchy, and authoritarian forms of government, liberalism’s defining opposition to inherited authority is directly relevant. To the extent that the greater danger is a “neoliberalism” that treats market freedom as the paramount value, self-critical liberals offer an alternative vision in which the freedom of people carries more weight than the freedom of money. 4 James Luther Adams, “Why Liberal”, 6. Religions 2020, 11, 311 5 of 8 To be sure, liberalism is not the only tradition that offers resources for these two struggles, but it does offer some unique resources. Because capitalism itself is a fruit of liberalism, liberal anti-capitalism can help activists recover some of the genuine values, such as creativity, that are carried by capitalism in a distorted form. Liberalism also offers important safeguards against the authoritarian tendencies of some of the other movements that resist neoliberalism, among them orthodox Marxism and religious fundamentalism. At the same time, liberalism carries some significant dangers of its own. In criticizing traditional forms of authority, it can spread a bias against tradition itself and against everything rooted in the past. This is problematic whenever and wherever it happens, because sometimes, the past has exactly the wisdom needed to resist the evils of the present. It is, moreover, especially problematic in the context of empire. Metropolitan liberals should not direct their critique willy-nilly against the traditions of subaltern communities. Liberalism also tends to treat freedom as the supreme or only value, but freedom is of little use if it does not free us to pursue other values, such as connection, cooperation, beauty, and insight. Such values, of course, are often carried by religious and cultural traditions. The current environmental crisis is an especially pointed reminder of the importance of traditional or “conserving” values. For this reason, I ultimately am more comfortable with “liberal” as an adjective than “liberalism” as a noun. I can have a liberal approach to the traditions I value, but if liberalism is the only tradition I claim then there is much that I will have to forsake. This creates a dilemma for Unitarian Universalists (UUs), most of whom have forsaken “liberal Christianity” for “religious liberalism”. I do not want to turn back the clock on this, but I do think that UU congregations could be places for thoughtful conversations about what it means to be liberal in our connection to our various traditions. For UU Christians, this is fairly obvious; for UU pagans and Buddhists, being a liberal pagan or a liberal Buddhist might mean resisting patriarchal strands of those traditions or tendencies to invest excessive power in individual teachers. For me, one relevant religious tradition is, in fact, Christianity. I call myself a liberal Christian because I think that the legacy of Jesus Christ alerts us to the divine potential in every person. The liberal approach empowers me to apply Jesus’ radical teaching about God’s love for the poor to other oppressed groups about whom Jesus did not speak so directly, among them sexual and gender minorities, persons with disabilities, victims of racialized oppression, and many more. But I also think a lot about what it means to be “liberal leftist” or “liberal socialist”. I am deeply committed to the socialist quest for a thoroughgoing alternative to capitalism, one in which all people exercise direct democratic control of the places where they work. However, my liberal love of freedom makes me skeptical of state power as the primary means for building cooperative economics. I am also wary of the subordination of means to ends in Marxist theory and, more especially, Leninist, Stalinist, and Maoist practice. John Haynes Holmes, Egbert Ethelred Brown, Homer Jack, Bayard Rustin, A. J. Muste, and many others provide compelling models for how to support socialism as a liberal. Insofar as the left is also a tradition that privileges freedom over other values, calling myself a “liberal leftist” does not quite address the problem of liberal bias against the past. To fully overcome this problem, I must be a “liberal ecologist” as a well as a liberal leftist and a liberal Christian. The ecological tradition is committed to the preservation of ecosystems, biodiversity, and local interconnections between human and biotic communities. Much more than liberalism or the left, ecology has often garnered strong support from people who are also devoted to religious and cultural traditions. It does not, typically, identify freedom as a core value, and certain forms of ecology are explicitly and emphatically illiberal. Among those I would count strands of deep ecology that treat humanity as intrinsically threatening to life forms, approaches to wilderness preservation that justify the removal of indigenous communities, and models of sustainability that assume that ecological change is always a bad thing. However, there is no inherent conflict between human freedom and ecological balance: just as people can and should freely choose to cherish certain cultural traditions, Religions 2020, 11, 311 6 of 8 so humans and other life forms can make free choices that keep us in balance with one another. Indeed, by warding against dogmatic or monocultural responses to environmental problems, the liberal approach can play a big role in helping Earth regain its balance. For all these reasons, I will seek to remain faithful to the best of the values that have historically been called liberal. At the same time, my commitment to self-criticism reminds me that what words mean to me are not always the same as what they mean to others. To the extent that many people feel excluded by the word “liberal”, it may be that the most liberal course of action is to find new words for the perennial quest for freedom. 4. The Problem with Liberalism Tisa Wenger I have never wanted to identify myself as a “liberal” or to embrace the moniker of “liberal religion”. This is not a result of the conservative attacks on liberalism—that would be a reason to embrace it—but of liberalism’s own limitations, contradictions, and exclusions. Instead of working out an alternative, though, my tendency has always been to hide behind the identity of an historian. I am more comfortable with (and better at) the task of deconstructing and historicizing such terms than the constructive work of proposing alternatives. However, we know that historical questions and terms of analysis are shaped as much as any other kind of intellectual inquiry by the historian’s social identities and normative commitments. Thus, I am grateful if a bit nervous to be forced by this forum to face up to the question. Here is the problem as I see it. My own scholarship shows the historical complicity of American liberals and liberalism in racism, settler colonialism, and imperialism. When I see liberalism’s continued blind spots and exclusions today, I am left asking whether the liberal tradition has anything left worth salvaging. However, I recognize that my own commitments to social justice, human flourishing, and ecological sustainability—along with the Unitarian Universalist tradition—all have liberal foundations. What positive legacies and trajectories might be lost with the rejection of liberalism? What alternative grounding can we claim for the values we want to live by and to foster? Liberalism is a shape-shifting concept that has meant many different things over time. First came the classical liberalism of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. This liberalism focused above all on the rights and freedoms of the individual subject. It inspired the challenges to theological orthodoxies that still define religious liberalism, and whether or not they identify as “religious liberals”, most Unitarian Universalists today remain committed to its basic ideals. However, it was no accident that the early liberal philosophers invariably spoke of the individual whose rights they championed as white and male. As historians of race and gender have amply demonstrated, these thinkers largely assumed (and sometimes advocated) the subjugation of the women and slaves whose service supported the patriarchal household and in so doing enabled the fiction of white male autonomy (Patterson 1991; Hartman 1997). The history of religious liberalism cannot be separated from this side of liberalism’s legacy. Liberal ideals also served as powerful rationales for settler colonialism and empire. Freedom and rationality were said to be universal but fully developed only among the supposedly more “civilized” races. Through this logic, liberal imperialists could readily claim the responsibility to bestow (or impose) them upon the so-called “primitives” whose capacities, so it seemed, perpetually lagged behind. Some of the leading liberal philosophers of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, men like John Locke and John Stuart Mill, served simultaneously as colonial administrators and theorists of empire. They defended imperialism as justifiable, even laudable and benevolent, because it provided a way to bring the values and virtues of freedom and civilization to the racialized subjects of colonial rule. Contemporary exercises of imperial power are rationalized in much the same way, even when the reigning political philosophies do not go by the name liberal (Mehta 1999; Lowe 2015). Religions 2020, 11, 311 7 of 8 When embraced by relatively privileged people—as they so often are—the liberal emphases on freedom of choice and freedom of conscience can shape a live-and-let-live culture that makes it difficult to name and combat injustice. In the decades before the Civil War, many Unitarians and Universalists, like many other Protestants at the time, refused to challenge slavery on the grounds that conscientious Christians disagreed on the question of slaveholding and that the state had no right to dictate in matters of conscience. Although abolitionists pointed out that this formulation ignored the slaves’ rights to the same freedoms, many religious liberals opposed abolitionism for decades, in part on religious freedom grounds (Jordan 2012; Wenger 2017). In the same way, white liberals were all too often complacent in the face of racial segregation. Although many black and white Unitarian Universalists were active in the civil rights movement—a legacy that contemporary Unitarian Universalists rightly celebrate—white liberals more often hesitated to support its radical urgencies. Religious liberalism can operate in similar ways today, as Unitarian Universalists committed to the individual quest for truth and meaning all too easily end up fostering a culture of privilege and complacency, and can too easily celebrate an atomized, individualized freedom that fails to acknowledge the inequities of power on the ground. This is not to say that all liberals have been complacent imperialists or that liberalism has offered no resources for resistance. Far from it. Many liberals—and others who may not claim that label but have gained inspiration from liberal ideals—have applied the principles of freedom and equality in radical ways to challenge the imperial hierarchies of gender, sexuality, race, and nation. Global movements for women’s rights and against slavery and imperialism have articulated their protests at least in part in the language of liberalism. Most of those who claim liberal identities today aim to defend these legacies and commitments (McKanan 2011). In much of what passes for public discourse in the United States today, liberalism is attacked not because of its complicity with racism and imperialism but on very different grounds. Some oppose liberalism as a threat to religious traditions and the social hierarchies they so often sanctify. Others condemn it for empowering big government at the expense of individual and corporate “freedoms”. The liberalisms these critics fear are the mid-twentieth-century programs of the New Deal and the Great Society, which sought to wield the government’s power to eliminate poverty and create equal justice for all. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s Four Freedoms, including the “freedom from want” and the “freedom from fear”, recognized that basic human needs had to be met before any “freedom” could have much meaning. In practice, though, these programs too were focused and limited in ways that maintained the racial hierarchies and exclusions of American society (Engel 2015). The individual and corporate freedoms so loudly proclaimed against these mid-century liberalisms are themselves rooted in the neoliberalism that has shaped successive U.S. administrations over the past four decades. Neoliberalism identifies free markets as the basic building blocks of human freedom and redefines all of life in transactional terms. It celebrates economists’ analysis of human nature through the language of homo economicus and indeed works to reshape human subjectivity through the lens of the free market. In both theory and practice, it takes the liberal ideals of individuality and freedom to their logical and most harmful extremes. Like the individual liberties of an earlier age, neoliberal freedoms work best for those who are already wealthy and privileged. For anyone who cares about social justice, about the flourishing of diverse human and ecological communities, and indeed about the future of the planet itself, this may be liberalism’s most dangerous spawn (Comaroff and Comaroff 2001; Brown 2015). A fuller accounting of the relationships and distinctions between religious, philosophical, and political liberalisms would need to encompass not only a history of ideas but also the networks, practices, and material commitments of those who have claimed these identities. Such a history would place people of color as active agents within liberal religious movements, honor the emancipatory impulses at the heart of these movements, and wrestle with the hierarchies and exclusions (racial and otherwise) that the overlapping forms of liberalism have so often perpetrated. Religions 2020, 11, 311 8 of 8 All this history may help us understand why “liberalism” is such an embattled term, one that many Unitarian Universalists and liberal Protestants today are not particularly eager to claim. It may also help us understand why religious liberalism tends to signify as white, and why so many people of color have not felt at home within “liberal religion”, a problem poignantly described by Sofia Betancourt in her contribution to this forum. Drawing from the activist wells of liberation theology, Betancourt suggests “liberatory” as a term that better conveys the religious commitments of contemporary Unitarian Universalists and signifies the inclusive and justice-oriented faith that most of us seek to embody. In conclusion, I want to quote the philosopher Rosi Braidotti, whose book The Posthuman develops a closely related critique of philosophical humanism. In order to meaningfully address the ecological and other crises we face, Braidotti argues, we need to move beyond liberal humanist notions of subject formation and individual self-mastery, which deny the relational ways in which we all are formed. These models have undermined accountability to human and other-than-human communities, defeating the goals of social liberation and environmental justice that are my own primary commitments. Braidotti advocates a more relational vision of self-in-community, “critical posthuman subjects” who are constituted by and accountable to their “multiple belongings” (Braidotti 2013). Following Betancourt and Braidotti, then, I would call for Unitarian Universalists to identify themselves not with “religious liberalism” or “liberal religion” but as a relational community of flourishing and liberation for all. Funding: This research received no external funding. Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest. References Braidotti, Rosi. 2013. The Posthuman. Cambridge and Malden: Polity Press, p. 49. Brown, Wendy. 2015. Undoing the Demos: Neoliberalism’s Stealth Revolution. New York: Zone Books. Comaroff, Jean, and John L. Comaroff, eds. 2001. Millennial Capitalism and the Culture of Neoliberalism. Durham: Duke University Press. Engel, Jeffrey, ed. 2015. The Four Freedoms: FDR’s Legacy of Liberty for the United States and the World. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hartman, Saidiya V. 1997. Scenes of Subjection: Terror, Slavery, and Self-Making in Nineteenth-Century America. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press. Jordan, Ryan P. 2012. Church, State, and Race: The Discourse of American Religious Liberty, 1750–1900. Lanham: University Press of America. Lowe, Lisa. 2015. The Intimacies of Four Continents. Durham: Duke University Press Books. McKanan, Dan. 2011. Prophetic Encounters: Religion and the American Radical Tradition. Boston: Beacon Press. Mehta, Uday Singh. 1999. Liberalism and Empire: A Study in Nineteenth-Century British Liberal Thought. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Patterson, Orlando. 1991. Freedom in the Making of Western Culture. New York: Basic Books, vol. 1. Rasor, Paul. 2013. Reclaiming Prophetic Witness: Liberal Religion in the Public Square. Boston: Skinner House Books. Wenger, Tisa. 2017. Religious Freedom: The Contested History of an American Ideal. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press. © 2020 by the authors. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction Toward a Liberal and Liberating Faith Claiming the Term “Liberal” The Problem with Liberalism References 
work_nbnlrkozsje3xalhrdtjzqyhke	----	Educational Studies in Japan: International Yearbook No.6, December, 2011, pp.69-79 Social Justice in Translation: Subjectivity, Identity, and Occidentalism Standish, Paul* This paper considers the contemporary prominence of the concept of social justice and identifies two influential strands of thought that currently affect thinking about education: John Rawls’ notion of justice as fairness and a more emancipatory conception typified by critical pedagogy. With this promi- nence the term has gathered a rhetorical force and been subject to ideological degeneration. The paper goes on to consider ways in which the notion of social justice has been “borrowed”, especially in the light of the hegemony of English in the international research field. Further colonising consequences are exam- ined, with reference to the work of Naoki Sakai, in relation to the development of notions of subjectivity and identity, in what might be described as a new “Occidentalism”. In conclusion, the emphasis on cooperation in Rawls is con- trasted with a notion of conversation found in Stanley Cavell and Ralph Waldo Emerson. This is epitomised by values of receptivity, openness, and resource- fulness, and is suggestive of a more Eastern sensibility. * Centre for Philosophy of Education, Institute of Education, University of London e-mail: p.standish@ioe.ac.uk “Social justice” is a phrase that recurs with some force in contemporary political and aca- demic discussion, and in many respects this is understandable. One can scarcely imagine a form of human life for which justice does not remain a question, and the effects of the adjective point up the particular pressures to which that question is exposed in an overcrowded and, in some ways, environmentally depleted world. How are we to live together in justice, in our own countries and continents, and in the world as a whole? But we can move too quickly with the phrase, and it does bear some critical examination. My discussion begins by examining social justice in terms of the ways that as an idea it has become influential in educational research and related fields (section 1). It goes on to show how, in global terms, this influence cannot be separated from the global dominance of English (section 2). This is related in turn to questions of translation (section 3). The particular pertinence of this is then emphasised by turning to a topic that, although it may seem a digression, goes to the heart of think- ing in philosophy and social science: the nature of subjectivity, in translation (section 4). And finally a return is made to aspects of social justice considered in section 1 in order to unsettle some of the dominant patterns of influence and to open the way towards a different kind of thinking (section 5). Standish, Paul70 1. Concept, ideology, narrative In the first place, let us look more closely at what the adjective “social” in “social justice” adds. As justice is necessarily justice amongst people, it is inevitably understood in relation to a social world. What other kind of justice can there be? In this respect the adjective does indeed seem to be redundant. But the modified question “How are we to live together fairly?” in fact points to a better defence of the expression, because it cannot be taken for granted that justice means fairness. Thus, a feudal or caste-based society, in which one’s station in life is limited by birth or marriage, may be regarded as aligned with some sense of the right ordering of things, just as it is not incoherent to understand as just a society, such as an extreme communist one, in which the individual is but a part in the organic whole of the state—however objectionable we may find such arrangements today. To accept that justice means fairness, by contrast, is to take a step towards a commitment to equality and to the kind of universalism that that implies: we are all equal qua human beings. There is still, however, scope for a divergence of views, for justice as fairness is compat- ible with commitments to equality of outcome and equality of opportunity, to egalitarianism and to meritocracy. Nor does the principle take us far in solving, for example, such a practical ques- tion as whether inheritance tax is fair. In view of this it is right to see politicians and thinkers from across much of the spectrum as committed to justice in this way. Hence, if the addition of the adjective “social” is taken to imply the specific idea of justice as fairness, this may save it from the charge of redundancy, but the purchase of the expression remains very broad. The most concerted contemporary attempt to reason through these differences is undoubt- edly to be found in the work of John Rawls, and his writings have in many respects set the agenda for (at least Anglophone) political philosophy these past four decades. Let me elaborate a little. Rawls understands political philosophy to have four roles in public life. First, it should discover the basis of reasoned agreement, especially in societies where diversity is likely to lead to con- flict—that is, in large-scale, modern democracies in general. Second, it should enable the members of a society to understand the political significance of that membership and the rights and respon- sibilities that reasonably attach to citizenship. Third, it should explore the nature and limits of what is possible in practice. In other words it should be realistic about what real people are like and what kinds of measures will gain their support. And fourth, it should have a reconciliatory role, showing that, for all the frustrations of practical politics, and in spite of human weakness and cor- ruption, it is possible for institutions to function according to principles of reason. What is impor- tant throughout is Rawls’ understanding of his own endeavour as advancing the principle of a just liberal society, where justice is understood in terms of fairness. Rawls developed these ideas most fully in his master-work A Theory of Justice (1971), but he refined his position in three further major books: Political Liberalism (1993), The Law of Peoples (1999), and Justice as Fairness (2001). Rawls viewed his own work as a practical contribution towards settling the long-standing conflict in democratic thought between liberty and equality. He offers a way of understanding the nature and the demands of citizenship within a fair democratic polity, seeing this as a basis for a sustainable, just constitutional democracy able to contribute to international stability and peace. Individuals are understandably frustrated by the fact that others do not see things as they do and live their lives by different and sometimes conflicting values and priorities. But Rawls offers the robust, realistic, and yet reconciling thought that, given that human beings cannot see the whole truth, this diversity of worldviews may be the healthy result of greater freedom for all. Social Justice in Translation 71 The evolution of Rawls’ work needs to be understood also in terms of a reaction that has been loosely described as “communitarian”, and that, during the 1980s, was associated especially with important books by Michael Sandel (1981) and Charles Taylor (1985). Sandel is of particular interest for Japanese readers at present in view of the impact of his more recent Justice: What’s the Right Thing to Do? (2009), the translation of which (2010) became a truly extraordinary best- seller. Perhaps the point should be made, moreover, that, in spite of the nomenclature of “liberal- ism” and “communitarianism”, these critics share with Rawls a strong basic commitment to politics within a liberal tradition, their differences consisting rather in how the good for human beings, individually and collectively, is to be understood. Let us proceed by considering some remarks in Rawls’ later writings, where, in response to the question of in what sense citizens of a democracy can be free, he writes: One can try to deal with this question by viewing political society in a certain way, namely, as a fair system of cooperation over time from one generation to the next, where those engaged in cooperation are viewed as free and equal citizens and normal cooperating mem- bers of society over a complete life. We can then try to formulate principles of political justice such that if the basic structure of society—the main political and social institutions and the way they fit together as one scheme of cooperation—satisfies those principles, then we can say without pretense and fakery that citizens are indeed free and equal (Rawls, 2001, p. 4). Rawls is alert here and elsewhere in his writings to the ways in which justice as fairness can itself become too easy a slogan, propping up the status quo and in the process becoming ideological. One way in which he resists this is in his emphasis on the pluralism of a democracy and hence its difference from community insofar as the members of the latter share a comprehensive conception of the good. The central organising idea of cooperation is then understood to have three essential features. First, cooperation is not merely a matter of socially coordinated activity but is guided by publicly recognised rules and procedures that those involved accept as appropriate. Second, fair terms of cooperation, the terms that participants may, and sometimes should, reasonably accept are characterised by a reciprocity or mutuality of benefit. And third, cooperation includes the idea of rational advantage to participants from the standpoint of their own good. With regard to the provision of education in a democracy, there is no doubt that these prin- ciples have enormous power, and they have guided reflection and policy on such matters as edu- cational opportunity, institutional diversity, and funding. Here and in political philosophy more generally, such discussions can appear as “footnotes to Rawls”, and this is testimony to the impor- tance of his achievement. Let me trail the thought here, however, that the consistency and assur- ance of this discourse may reinforce a certain conception of the human subject, perhaps foreclosing approaches to social justice via different avenues of thought. Nevertheless, given that the term “social justice” has acquired particular prominence in educational research, I take this Rawlsian philosophical understanding to be one of the two principal ways in which it is currently interpreted and received. The other set of associations the term carries is more emotive in kind. It relates to the vari- ous ways in which campaigns for social justice have sought both to redress inequalities and, in what has become known as the politics of recognition, to acknowledge the forms of human diver- sity. Thus, it combines elements of neo-marxism and classic egalitarianism with a more recent sen- Standish, Paul72 sitisation to difference. Critical pedagogy can be taken as a prominent expression of such streams of thought. What I would like to emphasise is the extent to which these two principal elaborations of social justice are apt discursively to determine educational thought about these matters. That is, they provide the textual reference points, the vocabulary, and the rhetorical codes in which discus- sion takes place. There is a danger then that they become ideological, in the Marxist sense to which Rawls refers. In the light of this, it is worth pondering the following point. It is not uncommon for an education or social science department in a university to style its work in terms of “social justice”, whether as the name of its research focus or the title of one of its courses: this becomes part of its “narrative” of itself. Today, as never before, departments are required to have a narrative, and the coherence, plausibility, and political marketability of this may be critical to their success, even to their survival. It is no rejection of those underlying values with which the term has reasonably been associated to acknowledge now the rhetorical force that “social justice” has acquired. In this ideo- logical degeneration it risks becoming little more than a marketing or make-over term. But in fact it is part of the contemporary, globalised, cultural context, and a facet of neoliberalism, that any term, no matter how noble its associations, risks becoming a facile slogan or vacuous cliché, and hence a barrier to responsible thought. Let us pursue this further. 2. Policy-borrowing and the hegemony of English To see how this works has entailed paying some attention to the nature of the language itself, and inevitably here this means attending to the English language. This is not simply because it is an English term we are dealing with, but because of the effects on academic research of the global hegemony of English. The coincidence of the supremacy of the British and American empires with spectacular, technological change has given English prominence as a language in a way that is unprecedented, that is seemingly self-reinforcing and self-perpetuating, and that, espe- cially in the post-1989 global settlement, we have been inclined to accept as irreversible. It may be that this has a special importance in education because academic research in this field is typi- cally under pressure from a number of sources. Not only is it rightly understood to pursue the ques- tions where they lead and hence, as with more traditional disciplines, to engage in a form of enquiry that transcends national boundaries; it is also expected, quite reasonably once again, to contribute practically to the society in which it is located, through, for example, the training of teachers and the undertaking of research to guide or support national policy. That policy context has now, however, been drastically altered by changes on a global scale. Three factors in this stand out. In the first place, institutions such as PISA mean that countries are exposed to international comparisons in a way that is hard to avoid and that has important internal political consequences. In the second, for many countries policy is constrained because of dependence on international organisations such as the World Bank. And in the third, there are the more general and pervasive aspects of globalisation: the mass media, the Internet, and travel mean that the lives of people gen- erally are inevitably less self-contained, more exposed, more invaded than was the case even in the comparatively recent past. None of these facts seems set to change, and in all of them English is dominant. In such circumstances it is inevitable that English expressions carry a certain authority. This Social Justice in Translation 73 has two facets to it. First, they have practical authority through being understood more widely in international contexts. Second, they have added perceived authority because of the economic power and cultural prestige associated with Anglophone—that is, especially, American—culture. These points are all the more telling in the light of the sheer scale of educational research in North America—witness the size of the annual AERA meeting. Add to this the fact that there has been an extraordinary growth in publication in educational research and that this is predominantly in English. And add to this the fact that measures of research quality typically give priority to publi- cation in English. And, once again, add to this the fact that Anglophone researchers then have an obvious advantage in this process. Certainly, within Taiwan, for example, there has been some consideration of the significance of these matters as part of the discussion of “policy-borrowing”. Thus, for example, Shen-Keng Yang has examined Taiwan’s following of the global trend towards deregulation, has (most signifi- cantly for present purposes) identified this as the “motto” of its education reform, and has drawn attention to the imbalances that have ensued between competition and social justice (Yang, 2000). With similar concerns but in relation to German influence, Wei-Zhi Liu has analysed the dissemi- nation of German pedagogy in China and Japan from 1928–1983 and the attempts of four educa- tionalists to develop a pedagogy that combined German and Taiwanese elements (Liu, 2008). And Wen-Yan Chen has considered different types of policy transfer research, including its historical study, its prospective evaluation, theory-building on its basis, and most importantly the various cri- tiques of it that have been developed (Chen, 2009). My knowledge of these papers is regrettably confined to their abstracts, but I take it that there is some evidence here of a growing questioning of the dynamics of policy-borrowing—as the related terms “policy-travelling” and “policy-trans- plant” perhaps more obviously indicate. While it is entirely prudent for nations to be ready to look at practice abroad and to seek to emulate or adapt or learn from this in various ways, it seems inevitable that, at least as far as the relationship with Anglophone countries is concerned, the traf- fic is likely to be one-way. In fact this raises questions about comparative education as a field of study: whereas, in many countries where this thrives, its aims are couched partly in terms of the mutual benefits of learning of differences in practice, in the United States, especially, comparative study is likely to be undertaken out of purely academic interest. 3. Social justice in translation But my purpose here is not to consider policy-borrowing only in its most literal sense, for there are larger issues that constitute the background to these more specific matters. My remarks about language above have been woven around questions concerning the adoption of the term “social justice”. I want now to speculate further about the experience of, for example, the Taiwanese or Japanese researcher when the term arises. In the first place, insofar as the term is encountered in Anglophone contexts—say, in journals and books or at conferences in the English-speaking world—it is likely to be embedded in cultural circumstances that are alien in various ways and where there are chains of connection that will be only partly understood. Second, in international contexts where there is no shared language—involving participants from, say, Korea and Italy— the default means of communication will most likely be English; or, to be more precise, it will be English-as-a-foreign-language. It is English of this functional but culturally anodyne kind that has become the world language. Third, even in circumstances that involve only native speakers of, say, Standish, Paul74 Chinese, where English is not being used, it is likely that a certain academic kudos will attach to the command of key terms in English—very much in the way that the incorporation of the occa- sional German or French or ancient Greek word into academic English can give the native speaker of English an air of sophistication; indeed because of the power and importance of English it may be hard to avoid these terms. I understand that when social justice is the topic of research in Japan, the katakana sosharu jasutisu is sometimes used instead of the authentic shakai seigi. Beyond these factors, however, there is a more complex point. Where “social justice” is translated and a corresponding expression in Chinese is used (社會正義), it is likely that the respective terms will have different connotations, opening different chains of association. A Chinese speaker who is sensitive to this will experience a difference between semantic fields. By contrast, for the native-speaker of English, who encounters only the English term, this will not be the case. In both cases the presence and power of English will have its effects, totally and directly in the case of the English-speaker, partially and indirectly in that of the speaker of Chinese. This is partly to make the familiar point that different languages divide up the world in dif- ferent ways, engendering diverse patterns of conceptual connection and different possibilities of thought. I say that this point is familiar, but it is also for many of us an uncomfortable matter: it is convenient, especially for native English speakers, to play down or dismiss its importance. This dismissal then leads to the complacent assumption that this is just a matter of translation, that trans- lation is primarily a technical matter, and that differences between languages are merely to be over- come (see, for example, Standish, 2011). Think of this as a suppression of thought, of which the monolingual person may be unaware. 4. Changing the subject To illustrate more fully the significance of translation, I turn now to a set of terms that is of central importance to the social sciences and the humanities, and that has been addressed sys- tematically and more richly. These concern the notions of subjectivity and the self. To do this I draw especially on the work of Naoki Sakai, a graduate of Tokyo University who pursued doctoral studies, following ten years in business, at the University of Chicago, since when he has been a professor at Cornell. Sakai is plainly influenced by Foucauldian notions of subjectivation and of technologies of the self—that is, that we become subjects or selves through the discursive regimes in which we find ourselves and that these are historical and diverse. Sakai finds a specific point of departure in Akira Suzuki’s examination in the early nineteenth century of the idea of foreign language learn- ing. Writing during the period of Japan’s closure to the outside world (1600–1868), Suzuki under- stood such learning in terms of the acquisition of an ancient language, of China or Japan. But the crucial thing for present purposes is that this process was understood to involve an absorption of the textures of a social and political reality different from one’s own; it was, in addition, through this that there would be a “cofiguring” of each. Hence, learning of this kind (and the relation to literature and language that it implies) is of an order somewhat different from that of “literature” or “foreign-language learning” in their current familiar forms: whereas the contemporary study of literature might be conceived in terms of, say, a literary-critical approach, and a language might be studied for instrumental reasons, in Suzuki’s account learning is closer to the experience of the novice monk, where one becomes absorbed in the content and textual practices of the language in Social Justice in Translation 75 question, including its characteristic disciplining of the body, and commits or submits oneself to its ethos. Such an account of literature is overtly related to the construction of subjectivity, with all the ethical richness that that implies. Sakai takes this to be “an ecstatic project, a project of moving away from and getting out of the selfsame that the figure of a foreign language solicits me to venture into. It is a project of transforming me into that which is not familiar rather than a proj- ect of returning to the authentic self” (Sakai, 1997, p. 33). Hence, this encounter with the foreign language realises a possibility of subjectivity on both fronts (the “home” language and the foreign language), and this is transformative in kind. He explains this in terms of divergent conceptions of subjectivity, realised in two possible translations of the word “subject”, a term notoriously problematic for Japanese and Chinese trans- lators. Part of the background to the distinction he draws is found in the ethics and anthropology of Tetsuro Watsuji, developed in the 1930s and 1940s. Watsuji himself relates his account to Marx’s dissatisfactions with eighteenth century materialism, a metaphysics that divided the world into objects of knowledge, on the one hand, and epistemological subjects, on the other. It was against this that Marx emphasised the idea of praxis, where the subject is understood as (bodily) engaged in activities and hence socially and historically located. In the light of this distinction, Watsuji iden- tifies the epistemological subject as shukan and the subject of practice as shutai. Thus: 主観 主体 shukan shutai epistemological subject subject of praxis (The conceptual field of, and the relation between, the equivalent terms in Chinese— chu-kuan and chu-ti—is, I understand, slightly different, and in what follows I shall follow Sakai in using the Japanese.) If I have understood this correctly, the popular connotations may be some- what different from their more philosophical ones. It should be remembered also that their more philosophical use in Japanese is recent: philosophy as an academic form of study was “imported” only with the ending of Japan’s period of closure in the late nineteenth century. Thus, in popular terms shukan can have negative associations related to a kind of lack of objectivity, to being too subjective in one’s consideration of things, or perhaps to being egotistical. When Amane Nishi (1829–1927), in the late nineteenth century, introduced philosophy into Japan and created a name for it, tetsugaku (哲学), he gave shukan more positive connotations by preferring it as the equiva- lent of “epistemological subject”. According to Sakai, Nishi was not alone at the time in deploring the absence of systematic reasoning in Japan, and the emphasis on shukan was presumably intended to answer to this lack. Shutai by contrast, a term less visible in philosophy as it was then estab- lished in Japan, can imply a kind of independence of thought, or perhaps better a self-reliance or resourcefulness, such that one is not too easily influenced by others. The second part of the Chinese written expression (体) refers to the body, blurring the boundaries of epistemology and ethics, and this helps to show the way that it turns us back to notions of practical engagement and hence brings us closer to Marx. Sakai’s usage of these terms retains some of these connotations, but he attempts to give them more precision, and in this he is not alone. Kitaro Nishida (1870–1945), for example, makes a distinction along similar lines: Standish, Paul76 One may automatically assume that poiesis or technology is immediately shukan-teki. But ... what may appear simply technological, such as the building of a house, is possible only upon the relevant historical substratum, whereas what may appear unrelated to technology, such as language, must in fact be constituted technologically. It goes without saying that society cannot exist without language. Hence, our dialogue here and now is already a his- torical manufacturing act, and it therefore is a matter of technology... Technology requires dexterity. Dexterity means the historical formation of the individual’s habits. However, the habits are not formed by the individual’s subjective [shukan-teki] act: they are formed as historical manufacturing acts. Otherwise, we would never be able to manufacture anything by those habits. Our habits, therefore, are the habits of the historical world (Nishida, 1965, p. 135, in Sakai, 1997, pp. 198–199, n. 10, Sakai’s translation). While the anticipation of Foucault is evident here, what also needs to be registered is the proxim- ity in these reflections of subjectivity to notions of identity. To make things clearer, let us touch on Sakai’s critique of Watsuji. While it may seem, as Watsuji implies, that shukan is the mode of subjectivity of “the West” and shutai that of “the East”, Sakai is eager to show that the Japanese are also shukan-teki in their construction of the West.1 Thus, the “interiority called Japan” in Watsuji’s anthropology ends up being thoroughly “Western” —the grafting of an image of Japan on Japan determined by Western notions of identity.2 In the same way subjects are apt to become shukan in confronting cultural dif- ference insofar as, in this process, the other is objectified. To identify shutai as the defining char- acteristic of subjectivity in the East is ironically self-defeating. So these are questions about what can be understood by identity itself. Sakai’s response to this implies that the wrong kind of empha- sis on identity here involves “a repression of the singular eventhood of historicity, of what cannot be arrested in the phenomenality of the representable within the economy of chronological tempo- rality” (p. 149). It is important then that these terms are asymmetrical: there is a difference between what can be accommodated in a general economy of universality and particularity, and what flees as soon as any attempt is made to arrest it. “By shutai, therefore,” he continues, “I like to suggest the impossibility of full saturation of any identity and, particularly, of the agent of action, as well as an undecidability that underwrites the possibility of social and ethical action. Yet the shutai is not the agent of action possessing free choice as it is understood in liberal humanism because free- dom is neither owned by it nor in it” (p. 150). The resistance here is, I take it, against the idea of freedom as either a possession of a subject or as internal to an ego, and the reason for this is that freedom is “out there”, in the engagement of ethical action and with the absence of any final set- tlement. Plainly the metaphysics implied by Sakai’s remarks here is at odds with assumptions that pervade the Rawlsian discourse of rational choosers, and plainly then this must have its bearing on the ways in which social justice is conceived and realised. It was said above that the word “subject” presents problems for translators, and this explo- ration of shukan and shutai helps to show why this is so. Inevitably in philosophy and social sci- ence, not to mention practical politics, this is a peculiarly pivotal term, and so the cross-cultural consequences of this translational problem should be plain enough. But in fact this exemplifies a more general difficulty. The translator normally confronts a gap between meanings for which there is no ultimately satisfactory resolution. As a result the translator experiences the space for judge- ment—precisely that space where there is no rule to resolve the difficulty she faces. There is then an inherent openness and “ab-solution”3 in what she does. Thus, translation, as Sakai claims, is a Social Justice in Translation 77 shutai-teki technology par excellence (p. 198, n. 10). In this respect the monolingual may be mor- ally blind. The fact that subjects become shukan-teki in the objectification of the other, and that this can happen at an intercultural level, is amply evident in the familiar forms of Orientalism. Sakai exposes, in his account of Japan’s response to the West, what might be called a corresponding Occidentalism, and it would seem then that this reciprocates with the West in the process of cofig- uring that Sakai describes. But in my view there remains a difference. The West’s Orientalism is born out of a sense of superiority coupled to an (ethnocentric) universalist metaphysics. While Japan has its own sense of superiority, even if this falters at times, there is a crucial difference in that its Occidentalism is not derived from an indigenous universalist metaphysics. Of course Occidentalism is not confined to Japan, and this latter point applies also, I believe, to its manifes- tations elsewhere. I confess that I do not know quite what to make of this, if it is true, but it does strike me that whereas Orientalism may be a “natural”, though objectionable outgrowth of Western ways of thinking, Occidentalism has the character of a double-grafting: it is grafted on a borrowed notion of subjectivity and of identity.4 This, I think, reinforces the bad aspects of policy-borrowing and reduces the possibilities of exchange between countries. At the same time it foregrounds shukan-teki ways of thinking and being at the expense of the greater openness and possibility of the shutai-teki. 5. Towards a new conversation Of course I want to bring together my exposure of the problems of monolingualism with my critique of dominant conceptions of social justice and the way these play out in educational research. The experience of translation, which has been illustrated with reference to shukan and shutai, does not occur only between languages: as has been widely recognised, it occurs also in an intra-lingual way.5 My frustration or disappointment with the familiar expressions of social justice that I iden- tified in section 1 has two aspects. First, I think there is a continuing need to be sensitised to the rhetorical inflation of this and similar terms, as found, for example, in critical pedagogy, in state- ments of policy, and in mobilisations of narrative. Second, while I do not doubt the worthiness and value of much of the work undertaken in the wake of Rawls, research that addresses questions concerning, say, the fair distribution of educational opportunity, I find that this tradition of thought has less to say about certain central aspects of education—that is, about the substance of teaching and learning, and about its transformative place in human life—and that its discourse is apt to hide the importance of these matters. The dominance of shukan-teki ways of thinking suggests that there is much to be learned from the different semantic fields that Japanese and Chinese open. My reaction in this respect has a parallel in Stanley Cavell’s criticism of Rawls’s emphasis on cooperation, a central democratic virtue at the heart of justice. In a comparatively recent itera- tion of this, he writes: “Cooperation”, as a general state of social interaction, suggests the idea of society as a whole either as having a project or, at the other extreme, as being a neutral field in which each can pursue his or her own projects. Intuitively these extremes are analogous to aspects Standish, Paul78 of the interesting institution of competitive games... The idea of “conversation”, in contrast, emphasizes neither a given social project nor a field of fairness for individual projects. (Nor, as I have insisted, does it deny the importance of these ideas.) Conversation is then the field within which I might discover what my projects might be. Cavell continues: What it emphasizes is, I might say, the opacity, or non-transparence, of the present state of our interactions, cooperative or antagonistic—the present seen as the outcome of our his- tory as the realization of attempts to reform ourselves in the direction of compliance with the principles of justice. The virtues most in request here are those of listening, the respon- siveness to difference, the willingness for change. The issue is not whether there is a choice between the virtues of cooperation and of conversation. God forbid. The issue is what their relation is, whether one of them discourages the other (Cavell, 2004, pp. 173–174). My issue then is that the dominance of particular kinds of discourse, in critical pedagogy and politi- cal liberalism, perpetuates monolingualism of a kind. A better idiom for educational thought requires the release of language, and this can be realised in both inter-lingual and intra-lingual ways. Cavell finds in the second syllable of “conversation” (“-vers-”—cf. reversal, diversion, averse) the suggestion of a turning of thought such that it cannot proceed solely, and in many respects does not proceed best, when it travels along straight, systematic lines: openness to con- versation, a readiness to be turned (to be shaped, fashioned, sometimes diverted, sometimes rebuffed), requires that I do not seek to shore up my own identity but rather am ready for new possibilities—that is, ready to become. Plainly this is to take conversation not as just any kind of verbal exchange between people but to idealise it as something to be aspired towards. And plainly, given that Emerson is never far from Cavell’s account, the readiness to be fashioned cannot be an acquiescence in conformity. Emerson says of conversation that its laws are “analogous to the laws of society” and that it is the “first office of friendship” (Emerson, 1961, p. 292), where the friend is not someone who merely reinforces my identity, who secures me where I am, but rather someone ready to challenge me towards my next, best possibility. Transformative rather than informative, conversation requires a listening through which, as Branka Arsić puts this, I forget “the texts, codes, and judgments that constitute the conversing ‘I’; it happens only as self-abandonment” (Arsić, 2010, p. 196). The inter- ruption that the friend in conversation represents has the character of “the singular eventhood of historicity”, in Sakai’s phrase. It is in this spirit that Emerson advocates a kind of self-reliance, not as individualistic autonomy but as the kind of receptivity, openness, and resourcefulness that is achieved in the act of abandonment (see, for example, Saito, 2005, p. 147). There is nothing arbitrary about turning to Emerson here, for he was deeply influenced by East Asian thought. Hence, this 19th American philosophy, in partial reaction against Europe, finds some company with the East. Ancient Confucian teaching emphasises the necessity of the growth of moral sensibility within the student. That the Chinese character for shutai incorporates the sym- bol for the body (体), and that this body cannot be understood in terms of any oppressive mind/ body dualism, emphasises practical engagement: hence, far from being an immunisation against the turbulence of the world, this is the realisation of conduct that remains appropriately earthed— Social Justice in Translation 79 call this developing resourcefulness a conducting of the energies of experience. But it is not surprising then that this aspect of Emerson’s work is itself repressed: he is more conveniently championed and contained as the prophet of American individualism. I am drawn by the thought that the parallels between this repression and that of shutai extend to symmetries between them in respect of resourcefulness and self-reliance. Repression of this kind is itself a dis- tortion of the possibilities of social justice, even its violation, as well as of the possibilities of learn- ing from one another. Does academic research in education in some way collude in this? Acknowledgement I should like to thank Tsui-Ting Kang, Yukiko Kawaguchi, Naoko Saito, and Chia-Ling Wang for help in the preparation of this paper. Fumio Ono is thanked for encouraging some of my thoughts in this direction. Notes 1 It should be obvious that these terms are used in a discussion such as this as short-hand expressions. There is no sug- gestion that countries in East Asia and countries in Europe or North America divide in such clear-cut ways. And of course so much of what is referred to as “the West” permeates the East, just as countries and people in the West are affected by influences from “the East” in multiple ways. 2 Watsuji’s latent Sinophobia is said to bear the features of a certain anti-Semitism, indicative of a repression of anxi- ety, an anxiety over identity. This is a repression, Sakai claims, from which Asian Studies has never entirely been free (p. 151), and I venture to suggest that it is a potential threat more generally to comparative education. 3 Sakai’s term here has multiple senses, but at the least it should indicate that the task she faces cannot be understood in any simple logic of problem-solving. The difficulty she faces is irreducible, although she still must exercise judge- ment and act. 4 In other words, the East’s construction of the West is grafted on a Western construction of the East, but the origin of such identity-construction is in Western forms of representation and objectification, and Western notions of identity. 5 This is readily evident in the writings of, for example, Mikhail Bakhtin, Paul Ricoeur, and Jacques Derrida (see Standish, 2011). References Arsić, Branka (2010) On Leaving, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Cavell, Stanley (2004) Cities of Words: Pedagogical Letters on the Moral Life, Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Chen, Wey-Yan (2008) Policy Transfer Research: Retrospects and Prospects, Journal of Educational Research and Development, 5.3, pp. 73–94 [published in Chinese]. Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1961) The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by S.E. Whicher, R.E. Spiller, and W.E. Williams, Volume II, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Liu, Wei-Zhi (2008) A Historical Review on Dissemination of German Pedagogy in China and Taiwan (1928–1983), Bulletin of Educational Research, 54.4, pp. 19–51 [published in Chinese]. Nishida, Kitaro (1965) Poieshisu to Parakushisu, originally published in Shiso, 223, December 1940, in: Nishida Kitaro Zenshu, vol. 10 (Tokyo, Iwanami Shoten), pp. 124–176 [published in Japanese]. Rawls, John (2001) Justice as Fairness: A Restatement, Cambridge, Mass.: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Rawls, John (1999) The Law of Peoples, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rawls, John (1993) Political Liberalism, New York: Columbia University Press. Rawls, John (1971) A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Sakai, Naoki (1997) Translation and Subjectivity: On “Japan” and Cultural Nationalism (Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press). Saito, N. (2005) The Gleam of Light: Moral Perfection and Education in Dewey and Emerson, New York, Mass.: Fordham University Press. Sandel, Michael (2010) これからの「正義」の話をしよう―いまを生き延びるための哲学 [published in Japanese], 早川書房; translation of Justice: Whats the Right Thing to Do? (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2009). Sandel, Michael (1981) Liberalism and the Limits of Justice, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Standish, Paul (2011) One Language, One World: the Common Measure of Education, Philosophy of Education Yearbook, 2010. Yang, Shen-Keng (2000) Education Reform Facing the New Millenium—Methodological Reflection and International Comparison, Bulletin of Educational Research, 44, pp. 1–34 [published in Chinese]. 
work_ndb4h73alndd3eepotcaunbgby	----	In search of a physiological function of lipoprotein(a): causality of elevated Lp(a) levels and reduced incidence of type 2 diabetes1 This article is available online at http://www.jlr.org Journal of Lipid Research Volume 59, 2018 741 Copyright © 2018 Tsimikas. Published under exclusive license by The American Society for Biochemistry and Molecular Biology, Inc. “Shallow (wo)men believe in luck or in circumstance. Strong (wo)men believe in cause and effect.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Conduct of Life, 1860). Assigning causality to complex, multifactorial pheno- types, such as incident T2D, is difficult. Assigning causality by the relative lack or an absence of a putative causal mediator is nearly impossible without the benefit of rigor- ous mechanistic studies and randomized trials where con- founding variables can be controlled. Yet this is where we find ourselves in 2018, with several reports suggesting an association of very low lipoprotein(a) [Lp(a)] levels (<10 mg/dl or <25 mmol/L) and incident T2D or, interpreting alternatively, elevated Lp(a) levels with lower risk of inci- dent T2D. These associations were derived from large pro- spective epidemiological cohorts with robust durations of follow-up, including the Women’s Health Study in 2010 (1), Copenhagen cohorts in 2013 (2), EPIC-Norfolk in 2014 (3), and a Turkish study in 2017 (4) and the Bruneck Study in 2017 (5) (Table 1). These studies included 134,707 people followed prospectively for 5–20 years and have a weighted odds ratio for incident T2D of 0.75 for high levels versus low levels of Lp(a). In almost all of the studies, this association was present with mean/median Lp(a) levels in quartile 1 of <5 mg/dl compared with the comparator quartile 5 with Lp(a) levels 44.6–69.0 mg/dl. In the latest cross-sectional study reported in the cur- rent issue of the Journal of Lipid Research, Mu-Han-Ha-Li et al. (6) investigated the association of Lp(a) concentra- tions, LPA KIV2 repeats, and T2D in a Chinese population of 1,863 consecutive patients undergoing coronary angi- ography. Evaluating the data by tertiles, they showed that the risk of prevalent diabetes (i.e., T2D present on admis- sion to the hospital) was approximately 25% less in sub- jects in the top tertile [median (range) 67.9 (35.3–318.5) mg/dl] of Lp(a) versus those in the bottom tertile [me- dian (range) 7.4 (0.6–12.9) mg/dl]. The study showed that the prevalence of T2D was 41.6%, 37.6%, and 35.1% in Lp(a) tertiles 1, 2, and 3, respectively, showing the risk is mainly in the low Lp(a) individuals. Moving closer to causality, an association was also noted between the larger number of KIV2 repeats and prevalent T2D. A similar study suggested likewise, that the association is with a larger number of KIV2 repeats and not necessarily low Lp(a), as recently suggested in the Copenhagen City Heart Study (7). The Lp(a) values of risk are quite similar to the prospective studies noted above. The importance of this observation is that large numbers of KIV2 repeats, which are associated with lower levels of Lp(a), and vice-versa, are also genetically determined and therefore cannot be confounded by environment. The study by Mu-Han-Ha-Li et al. has strengths and limi- tations. First, it adds to the database that, irrespective of the underlying mechanisms, low Lp(a) levels are associ- ated with higher risk of both prevalent and incident T2D. Second, it expands the observation to nonCaucasians, who were primarily under-represented in the other studies, so that the robustness of the observation is more certain. Third, it is the second report to suggest that large numbers of KIV2 repeats are also associated with prevalent T2D (7), which makes it a more intriguing observation that should stimulate more fundamental research into causality. Fourth, the diagnosis of T2D was made by several accepted methods and appears not to be a major confounding vari- able in the study methodology. Finally, the Lp(a) assay used appears to be adequate, and there did not appear to be an imbalance of younger age (less T2D) or statin use (more T2D) among tertiles of Lp(a). Limitations of the present study include that this was a confirmatory study, as other studies have shown relation- ships of Lp(a) and prevalent T2D (a nonexhaustive list is In search of a physiological function of lipoprotein(a): causality of elevated Lp(a) levels and reduced incidence of type 2 diabetes1 Sotirios Tsimikas,2 Editorial Board Division of Cardiovascular Diseases, Sulpizio Cardiovascular Center, University of California San Diego, La Jolla, CA commentary DOI https://doi.org/10.1194/jlr.C085639 S.T. has research support from the Fondation Leducq and National Institutes of Health Grants R01-HL119828, R01-HL078610, R01 HL106579, R01 HL128550, R01 HL136098, P01 HL136275, and R35 HL135737. He currently has a dual appointment at the University of California San Diego and Ionis Pharmaceuticals and is a co-inventor and receive royalties from patents owned by the University of California San Diego on oxidation-specific antibodies. 1See referenced article, J. Lipid Res. 2018, 59: 884–891. 2To whom correspondence should be addressed. e-mail: stsimikas@ucsd.edu This is an Open Access article under the CC BY license. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ 742 Journal of Lipid Research Volume 59, 2018 shown in Table 2). It was also a cross-sectional study with a highly selected population undergoing coronary angiog- raphy, and therefore, local practice patterns and uncon- scious selection bias may have contributed to a skewed population that may not represent patients as a whole. A second major limitation of this study, and also of the Copenhagen studies and all studies that use polymerase chain reaction technology to quantitate number of KIV2 repeats (8), is that allele-specific numbers of KIV2 repeats cannot be determined, and the data are reported as a sum- mary of both alleles. For example, if it is measured that there are a total of 60 repeats, it cannot be known if this is due to a patient having 30 KIV2 repeats on each allele, or 15 and 45 on each allele. This may have implications in appropriate interpretation of the data, as it is known for cardiovascular disease that the smaller of the two isoforms is usually responsible for most of the plasma Lp(a) levels. Future studies trying to link large isoforms to T2D should use the gold standard methodology, which is agarose gel electrophoresis with appropriate standards to confirm these associations (9). The PCR method has only modest correlation to gel electopheresis and is not precise enough to make firm conclusions (8). Because gel electrophoresis is laborious and not time- or expense- conducive to large scale investigations, more efforts should be made to de- velop allele-specific PCR methods to determine isoform size. A more critical question that has not yet been addressed is whether it is low levels of Lp(a) or a large number of KIV2 repeats that are associated with T2D, or the opposite; that is, whether high levels of Lp(a) and small numbers of KIV2 repeats are protective. This is a crucial question that cannot be answered with the current epidemiological studies, and we must go to the laboratory to address this question with mechanistic studies. The recent National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute Working Group on Lp(a) (10) proposed that development of more appropriate transgenic Lp(a) models are needed to provide new in- sights into Lp(a) pathophysiology. In this instance, models expressing small and large isoforms, along with the native LPA promoter, can assess glucose metabolism, insulin re- sistance, and the relationship to changes in Lp(a) levels that would provide more certainty with regard to whether these epidemiologic associations are causal. The issue of reverse causality is a very real possibility in these associations. T2D can have a lag phase of 10–20 years before it is diagnosed, and in the preceding timespan, patients will develop insulin resistance and elevated insulin levels. Several studies have shown an inverse association between insulin levels and Lp(a) levels (11), even before a frank diagnosis of T2D is made (12, 13). Furthermore, phys- iological doses of insulin have been suggested to suppress apolipoprotein(a) mRNA and protein production in cyno- molgous monkey hepatocytes (14). Although Mendelian randomization studies are thought to protect against reverse causality, it is possible that confounding variables may be present. For example, an unrelated and unknown genetic influence may be in high correlation with the instrumental variable (in this case, KIV2 repeats) being assessed. Addi- tionally, it is possible that prediabetes insulin levels may have a disproportionate suppressive effect in subjects with large isoforms, thereby making this association appear to be causal. Ultimately, the physiological function Lp(a), if any, will need to be determined and understanding this may be useful in the current dilemma. Lp(a) is an unusual lipoprotein that is a combination of an LDL-like particle to which is cova- lently attached an evolutionarily modified, remodeled, and proteolytically inactive plasminogen-like molecule called apolipoprotein(a) (15, 16). The apolipoprotein(a) compo- nent of Lp(a) is not a lipoprotein per se, as it has no lipid binding domains, yet through its evolutionary lifetime has somehow found a way to covalently attach to apolipoprotein B-100, so that Lp(a) circulates as a lipoprotein. Apolipoprotein(a) TABLE 1. Association of Lp(a) levels and incident T2D First Author Year Cohort Patients, n Duration of Follow-up Lp(a) Levels* Q5 vs. Q1 OR Q5 vs. Q1 Weighted OR Mora (1) 2010 WHS 26,746 Median 13.3 years 44.6 vs. 3.9 0.78 0.155 Mora (1) 2010 CCHS 9,652 Not provided 54.0 vs. 4.4 0.58 0.042 Kamstrup (2) 2013 CCHS/CGPS 77,901 Not provided 69.0 vs 3.0 0.79 0.457 Ye (3) 2013 EPIC-Norfolk 17,908 Mean 9.8 years 53.5 vs. 3.9 0.63 0.084 Kaya (4) 2017 Turkish 1,685 Mean 5 years Mean 9.3–11.9 vs. 7.1–7.6 0.84 0.011 Paige (5) 2017 Bruneck 815 Median 20 years 51.9 vs. 2.3 0.73 0.004 Total 134,707 0.75 Lp(a) values are in mg/dl. The weighted odds ratio is based on the summation of the relative contribution of the study size and the odds ratio in that study. WHS, Women’s Health Study; CCHS, Copenhagen City Heart Study; CGPS, Copenhagen General Population Study. TABLE 2. Association of Lp(a) levels and prevalent T2D First Author Year Journal Patients, n Lp(a) Levels in DM vs. NonDM Schernthaner (34) 1992 Atherosclerosis 155 No difference Haffner (35) 1993 Diabetes 264 13.6 mg/dl vs. 16.1 mg/dl men Haffner (35) 1993 Diabetes 332 12.6 mg/dl vs 15.9 mg/dl women Csaczar (36) 1993 Diabetologia 483 No difference Saely (37) 2006 Eur. J. Clin. Invest. 587 11 mg/dl vs. 16 mg/dl Fraley (38) 2009 J. Am. Coll. Cardiol. 2342 10.9% vs. 12.2% Mora (1) 2010 Clin. Chem. 26,746 9.5 mg/dl vs. 11.7 mg/dl WHS Mora (1) 2010 Clin. Chem. 9,652 15.7 mg/dl vs. 17.4 mg/dl CCHS Arsenault (39) 2016 Am. J. Cardiol. 1,424 14 mg/dl vs. 15 mg/dl Commentary 743 is also not present in animals other than the hedgehog, African monkeys with tails, apes, and humans (17), but it appears to have undergone several modifications of remod- eling from the plasminogen gene. First, KIII of plasmino- gen evolved in the hedgehog and is attached to apoB as a lipoprotein. Then, many millions of years later, in African monkeys, KIV of plasminogen duplicated itself in multiple copies but lost its fibrin binding activity. It also had an intact protease domain present but with loss of its protease activ- ity, but also had no KV. Then, both fibrin-binding deficient KIV and KV appeared in apes, and finally fibrin-binding com- petent KIV and KV appeared in humans. Additionally, thus far, only plasminogen of all species tested and human apo(a)/Lp(a) have been documented to contain measur- able levels of oxidized phospholipids (17). Whether these are all chance events or if there are yet-to-be-discovered evo- lutionary advantages of these changes, and how this might relate to incident T2D, remain to be determined. As best as we can tell, Lp(a) has no known physiological function in modern society, although etiologically, it may have evolved to protect the host in many ways. Although speculative, there have been suggestions that Lp(a) can contribute to wound healing via its lysine-binding compo- nent that can attach to lysine molecules at injured sites and deliver cholesterol for generation of new cell mem- branes (18, 19). Like many other examples of evolutionary advantage of proteins that were modified in Africa, such as altered hemoglobin that protects against malaria but causes sickle cell anemia and apolipoprotein L1 that pro- tects against African sleeping sickness but is associated with renal failure (20), it is possible that because Lp(a) arose in Africa and the highest concentrations are in peo- ple of African descent, higher levels may protect against an unknown parasitic infection. However, the closest explanation of Lp(a) biology, but not necessarily the correct one, likely has to do with the fact that the LPA gene has duplicated itself from the plasminogen gene, either to fur- ther enhance plasminogen activity or to act as a yin-yang balance to plasminogen pathophysiology. In fact, we have shown that the oxidized phospholipids that are primarily present on Lp(a) are associated with increased cardiovas- cular risk (21, 22), but that the oxidized phospholipids present on plasminogen are associated with enhanced fibrinolysis in vitro and that higher levels are present post-myocardial infarction (23–25), a putative beneficial function to prevent thrombus propagation. In line with these relationships, several members of the plasminogen- related coagulation cascade, including tissue plasminogen activator that activates plasminogen to plasmin, are also associated with higher risk of incident T2D (26–29), an- other action that is seemingly opposed by elevated Lp(a) levels. An additional clinically relevant issue that may have an impact if these associations are causal is whether drugs that lower Lp(a) can also induce the development of T2D. It can be extrapolated that levels of Lp(a) <5 mg/dl are present in ~10% of the world’s population (30); therefore, over 700 million people already have Lp(a) levels where low levels may have broad population effects. Niacin and PCSK9 inhibitors lower Lp(a), and whereas niacin is asso- ciated with insulin resistance, the large PCSK9 inhibitors outcomes trials have not reported increases in incident T2D (31). Antisense oligonucleotides are much more po- tent in reducing Lp(a) (32, 33), but the level where the association of Lp(a) and T2D is evident is usually <5 mg/ dl; therefore, this is unlikely to be an issue if the treatment is aimed at reducing levels to what is considered normal; that is, <30 mg/dl. Finally, if the Mendelian randomiza- tion studies are accurate, they suggest it is not necessarily low Lp(a) levels but large isoforms that may be causal (7). Because patients with large isoforms have very low Lp(a) levels, they are unlikely to be recruited in Lp(a) lowering trials, as recently observed (32, 33). The search for causality of Lp(a) and T2D, whether it is low levels versus high levels, or large isoforms versus small ones, now needs to transition to mechanistic studies. Un- derstanding these associations not only will help define Lp(a) biology but may also bring new insights and new therapeutic targets to the burgeoning epidemic of T2D. REFERENCES 1. Mora, S., P. R. 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work_ndpfxjuiovbl3gnypq64phrgu4	----	SF5 S&F_n. 23_2020 337 GIACOMO SCARPELLI FILOSOFIA SELVATICA. UNA RIVISITAZIONE DEL PENSIERO WILDERNESS 1. Una civiltà dai nervi scossi 2. Pennelli selvaggi 3. La bestia nell’uomo, l’uomo nella bestia 4. Il wilderness riattualizzato ABSTRACT: WILD PHILOSOPHY. REVISITING WILDERNESS THOUGHT The notion of nature has been changing during the last two centuries: from an antagonist that must be conquered, to the environment of which the Homo sapiens is part of. Perhaps this second notion of nature is subjective too. Thoreau considered nature a free creative force and a resource that can decrease but never grows. It is precious for manhood only if humanity understands it is independent and self-governing. Consequently, the man should preserve habitat and prevent its transformation in exclusively human world. But recreating a wild environment, isn’t it an artifice? Will nature be transformed in a mummified representation or pathetic caricature of itself? Does the preservation of wild nature really improve the quality of life? Probably yes, if preservation is not recreation, and if quality of life is quality of life of all species. Certainly, something good is coming for manhood because we will stop to think only of ourselves. 1. Una civiltà dai nervi scossi La natura oggi si è trasformata in ambiente, mentre la storia naturale in ecologia: la doppia metamorfosi concettuale è espressione dell’urgenza di salvare il pianeta. A queste rappresentazioni se ne lega un’altra che ha invece ascendenza secolare, il wilderness. Secondo la definizione di un atto emanato dal Congresso degli Stati Uniti nel 1964, per wilderness si intende una data porzione di territorio popolata di animali allo stato selvatico, in cui predominano le forze della ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 338 natura, in contrasto con le aree dove l’uomo e la sua opera costellano il paesaggio; un territorio protetto che pertanto può rappresentare una risorsa di tipo scientifico, educativo ed estetico. Il trascendentalista Henry David Thoreau, convinto che la natura fosse una risorsa che poteva decrescere ma non aumentare, affermava nell’infuriare della Guerra Civile che il wilderness (lo chiamava ancora wildness) costituiva un tesoro da salvaguardare piuttosto che da saccheggiare, poiché in esso era racchiusa l’intera «preservazione del mondo»1. E John Muir, il fondatore della più autorevole istituzione americana per la difesa dell’ambiente, il Sierra Club, osservava già nel 1898 come il wilderness fosse diventato una necessità di fuga per «migliaia di persone affaticate, dai nervi scossi e ipercivilizzate»2. Oggi il discorso varrebbe a maggior ragione, alla luce di pandemie ricorrenti: il wilderness potrebbe rappresentare un luogo d’asilo anche per chi è traumatizzato dalle conseguenze della globalizzazione. Entrambi gli autori, Thoreau e Muir, esprimevano in termini pratici le idee filosofiche di colui che era stato il loro capofila, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Questi aveva introdotto nel Nuovo Mondo un idealismo tedesco dagli echi panteistici e intendeva la natura come un simbolo metafisico o, più precisamente, l’ente spirituale stesso cui tendeva la psiche umana. In altri termini, wilderness significava una condizione mentale, a prescindere dall’intento di preservazione ecologica, poiché assumeva il rilievo di un valore assoluto, legato all’idea di qualità della vita, non soltanto fisica e materiale, ma anche e soprattutto sentimentale, etica ed estetica3. 1 H.D. Thoreau, Walking (1862), Arc Manor, Rockville 2007, p. 26. 2 J. Muir, The Wild Parks and Forest Reservations of the West (1898), in Nature Writings, The Library of America, New York 1997, p. 721. 3 Vedi R.W. Emerson, Nature, Munroe & Co., Boston 1836, e anche il saggio con lo stesso titolo, ma dal diverso contenuto, pubblicato in Essays, ibid., 1844, pp. 183-216. S&F_n. 23_2020 339 Un tempo si riteneva che la natura fosse il mezzo attraverso il quale Dio parlava agli uomini. E allora il continente americano, con la sua abbondanza di riserve incontaminate, teoricamente avrebbe dovuto essere in vantaggio sull’Europa, dove millenni di civiltà si erano stratificati, separando l’uomo dall’opera del Signore. Tuttavia, è anche vero che i primi coloni del Nuovo Mondo non erano ancora americani, bensì europei in fuga da terre che li affamavano o li perseguitavano. Essi consideravano il continente selvaggio scoperto da Colombo come un paese da conquistare, dissodare, rendere fertile, in nome del Cristo e delle diverse fedi da esso derivate. Questa opinione discendeva dalla tradizione religiosa e culturale secondo cui il mondo era stato donato agli uomini, la creatura prediletta dall’Altissimo, per il loro personale beneficio4. Non possedevano, i pionieri, un patrimonio intellettuale sufficiente per capire che quel paese selvaggio non era precisamente un nemico5. Del resto, i pionieri, impegnati ogni giorno per cercare di sopravvivere e per ricreare comunque una parvenza di vecchio mondo nel nuovo, non potevano soffermarsi ad ammirare e considerare la magnificenza di quelle terre. Erano strenuamente impegnati nella ricerca di cibo e sicurezza, e il wilderness appariva soltanto come un rischio costante e una fatica spossante6. Aristotele non aveva forse stabilito una precisa cronologia delle tappe culturali? Soltanto quando furono raggiunti «tutti i mezzi indispensabili alla vita» e «quelli che procurano benessere, agiatezza, gli uomini incominciarono a dedicarsi a una sorta di indagine scientifica» e anche filosofica7. 4 Cfr. W. Leiss, The Domination of Nature (1972), McGill-Queen’s University Press, Montreal 1994. 5 Vedi C. Culmsee, Malign Nature and the Frontier, Utah State University Press, Logan 1959. 6 R. Nash, The Cultural Significance of the American Wilderness, in M. McCloskey e J.P. Gilligan (a cura di), Wilderness and the Quality of Life, Sierra Club, San Francisco 1969, p. 96. Vedi anche M. Cioc e C. Miller, Roderick Nash – Interview, in «Environmental History», XII, 2007, pp. 399-407. 7 Aristotele, Metafisica, I, 982b. Cfr. G. Scarpelli, Bergson e la techne. Le origini della precisione, in «Intersezioni», XIV, 1994, pp. 229-242. ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 340 Analogamente, è possibile che l’atteggiamento di stupore, ammirazione e partecipazione del colono americano per il wilderness nascesse soltanto dopo la conquista del continente, non durante la sua dura marcia verso l’Ovest, quando egli doveva rimboccarsi le maniche e lavorare, sempre tenendo a portata di mano lo schioppo. Kant aveva affermato nella Critica del Giudizio che il piacere del sublime per la natura selvaggia e incontaminata non implica tanto una gioia positiva quanto una meraviglia in senso negativo8. Il sublime suscita emozione e sgomento e inoltre ha carattere matematico e dinamico. Matematico perché prodotto dall’immensamente grande (montagne, foreste, firmamento) e dinamico perché prodotto dall’immensamente potente (oceano, vento, vulcani). Così, l’uomo da un lato scopre di essere piccola cosa e si sente schiacciato, ma dall’altro lato si accorge di essere superiore a ciò che è immensamente grande e potente, perché coltiva dentro di sé l’idea di ragione, intesa come totalità assoluta. Affermava Kant che sublime è ciò che per il solo fatto di poterlo pensare, attesta una facoltà dell’anima superiore a ogni misura dei sensi. Forse questa tesi, insieme alla lezione aristotelica, ci aiuta a capire il motivo per cui furono gli artisti, prima dei pionieri, a rapportarsi con il sublime americano. 2. Pennelli selvaggi Fino all’inizio dell’Ottocento la pittura americana fu contraddistinta dagli stilemi europei. Quando un artista riproduceva un paesaggio del Nuovo Mondo si rifaceva al manierismo pastorale, punteggiato di pecore, ruscelli, mucche e, sullo sfondo, qualche evidenza dell’opera dell’uomo. Nel 1823 Thomas Cole, giovane immigrato inglese, giunse nella Ohio Valley e fu 8 I. Kant, Critica del giudizio (1790), tr. it. Utet, Torino 1993 (l’«Analitica del sublime» è affrontata nella parte prima, sez. prima, libro secondo). S&F_n. 23_2020 341 affascinato dalla sua selvatica bellezza. Decise di abbandonare il vecchio stile figurativo e di dedicarsi a ritrarre cascate, boschi, montagne inviolate, cercando di cogliere lo spirito della vita selvaggia. In luogo di oggetti e animali domestici inserì nei propri dipinti alberi stroncati, nuvole e banchi di nebbia e dichiarò che la scenografia americana aveva caratteristiche opposte a quelle del Vecchio Continente: i coloni dovevano essere grati a Dio per aver creato quel paesaggio, ideale per la contemplazione del sublime e dell’eterno9. L’iniziativa di Cole sancì una sorta di dichiarazione d’indipendenza dell’arte americana (anche se va riconosciuto che egli risentiva dell’influsso del fiammeggiante romanticismo tedesco). Le prime concrete immagini del wilderness uscirono dunque dal pennello dei pittori piuttosto che dalla penna dei suoi teorici. L’arte di Cole e del suo allievo Frederic E. Church, e soprattutto di Albert Bierstadt raffigurò con sincera magniloquenza il Gran Canyon, Yellowstone, Yosemite, su tele di enormi dimensioni10. In seguito, come è noto, i pittori che fecero del Far West una leggenda furono Frederic Remington, Charles M. Russell, Charles Schreyvogel e altri, ma qui è necessario sottolineare il posto che spetta a un’altra corrente pittorica, la cosiddetta Brandywine School. Agli inizi del Novecento essa fissò nell’immaginario collettivo l’avventura nell’estremo Ovest, nell’estremo Nord e non solo. Howard Pyle, il fondatore della scuola, viene tutt’oggi considerato il padre dell’illustrazione americana. Tra i suoi più celebri allievi Frank Schoonover, Philip Goodwin, Dean Cornwell e il geniale Newell C. Wyeth11. Va tuttavia notato che se l’arte di Cole risaliva al tempo in cui il pioniere doveva lottare per la vita, diversamente l’arte della Brandywine School risaliva al 9 R. Nash, The Cultural Significance of the American Wilderness cit., pp. 69- 73. Vedi anche M. Lewis (a cura di), American Wilderness. A New History, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2007. 10 R. Nash, Wilderness and the American Mind (1967), 3a ediz., Yale University Press, New Haven and London 1982, pp. 82-83. 11 J.E. Dell e W. Reed, Visions of Adventure. N.C. Wyeth and the Brandywine Artists, Watson-Guptill Publications, New York 2000. ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 342 tempo in cui la Frontiera aveva ormai raggiunto il traguardo del Pacifico: il wilderness era diventato una deliberata ricerca di un piacere, di un brivido, del confronto con l’ancestrale e il primitivo. L’uomo rientrava in scena o, meglio, in azione. Era il momento del richiamo della foresta, che ebbe come aedo Jack London12. Quando l’idea di wilderness americano raggiungerà l’Europa, si mescolerà ad altre suggestioni esotiche, generate dall’espansione coloniale in Oriente, nel Pacifico e nel cosiddetto Continente Nero, e troverà nel Theodore Roosevelt di African Game Trails l’autorevole incarnazione di una simile miscela culturale13. In seguito, grazie al pensiero di Aldo Leopold, l’atteggiamento verso il wilderness si modificherà ulteriormente, in senso più decisamente etico. Leopold trasformerà il sentimento di istintivo trasporto verso la vita selvaggia in rispetto responsabile e in autentica scienza14. 3. La bestia nell’uomo, l’uomo nella bestia Oggi l’idea di wilderness che, come abbiamo visto, è strettamente associata a quella di ecologia e di ambiente, appartiene tuttavia a un tumultuante movimento di pensiero attraversato da correnti che non sempre si muovono nella stessa direzione. Il principio comune di base è che la conservazione della natura selvaggia vada considerata una risorsa che migliora la qualità della vita, ma le motivazioni che vi risiedono si presentano anche in contrasto fra loro e sono di natura non solo etica ed estetica, ma anche 12 Il celebre romanzo di Jack London, The Call of the Wild (Macmillan, New York 1903), fu illustrato da Philip Goodwin e da Charles L. Bull. 13 Anche African Game Trails (Scribner, New York 1910) fu illustrato da Philip Goodwin. Vedi inoltre C.C. Mann, 1493: How Europe’s Discovery of the Americas Revolutionized Trade, Ecology and Life on Earth, Granta, London 2012. L’economista catalano Joan Martinez Alier (The Environmentalism of the Poor: A Study of Ecological Conflicts and Valutations, Edward Elgar, Cheltenham 2002), ha auspicato un’alleanza tra i propugnatori del wilderness e le popolazioni native del Terzo Mondo. 14 A. Leopold, Pensare come una montagna (1949), tr. it. Piano B Edizioni, Prato 2019. S&F_n. 23_2020 343 religiosa, scientifica, psicologica e persino mistica15. In questa situazione confusa il filosofo forse se la cava meglio del cittadino comune, dal momento che il suo compito prevalente non è quello di dare risposte ma di porre domande. Circa la necessità di un «ritorno» alla natura, qualcuno afferma che si debba ragionare non soltanto in termini ecumenici – vale a dire la necessità della più ampia adesione a un progetto di salvaguardia – ma anche economici – vale a dire la questione della sostenibilità in rapporto al mercato. A ciò si potrebbe replicare che non di rado è la cultura che traina il mercato. John Davies, autorevole storico dello sviluppo industriale, ha per l’appunto dichiarato che il libero mercato è un’astrazione di comodo e che la cultura è il vero motore dell’economia16. Il wilderness, come l’ecologia, è dunque una forma di cultura che non prescinde nemmeno dalle istanze religiose, anche se, appunto, si tratta di atteggiamenti che vanno in direzioni diverse. Il Puritanesimo, fortemente insediato nel New England, aveva guardato ai territori selvaggi come un luogo di prova, lo sfondo per una purificazione spirituale, dove la corruzione morale della Vecchia Inghilterra avrebbe potuto essere definitivamente eliminata. In tal modo, colui che si fosse rifugiato in seno al wilderness avrebbe trovato nutrimento materiale e spirituale in nome del Signore17. Tuttavia, non è difficile individuare nell’idea wilderness anche valori che appaiono pagani, o per certi versi panteistici, una ricerca della verità dentro la realtà naturale. Thoreau definiva Dio come un «Qualcosa» di vicino, che si manifestava con la natura ed era immanente alla natura18. Al wilderness appartiene pertanto anche un sentimento di esasperato individualismo che non esclude la misantropia, la fuga 15 Cfr. H. Rolston III, Philosophy Gone Wild, Prometheus Books, Buffalo 1989. 16 Cfr. G. Scarpelli, Ingegno e congegno. Sentieri incrociati di filosofia e scienza, Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, Roma 2011, p. 140. 17 Vedi C. Albanese, Nature Religion in America, Chicago University Press, Chicago 1990, pp. 37-40. 18 H.D. Toreau, Walden, or Life in the Woods (1854), Houghton Mifflin, New York 1995, p. 129. ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 344 dell’Homo sapiens dai co-specifici19. Esso rappresenta un rifiuto della società oppressiva e ipertecnologica, che si esprime come ritorno, ideale o fattuale, alla selva primeva, alla ricerca di una libertà ancestrale. Nietzsche scriveva nella Genealogia della morale: «Non intendo in alcun modo aiutare i nostri pessimisti a tirare nuova acqua ai loro stridenti e cigolanti mulini del tedio vitale: al contrario dev’essere espressamente attestato che allorquando l’umanità non si vergognava ancora della sua crudeltà, la vita sulla terra era più serena di oggi che esistono i pessimisti. L’offuscarsi del cielo al di sopra dell’uomo è andato aumentando in rapporto al fatto che è cresciuta la vergogna dell’uomo dinanzi all’uomo»20. Si tratta di un aspetto non estraneo al pensiero wild, almeno a livello immaginifico: essere crudeli tra le bestie come le bestie quale via per recuperare l’innocenza originaria. Da entusiasta dell’idea di Superuomo, Jack London combinava questi concetti con il principio di lotta per la vita darwiniana, per temperarli poi con un’ottimistica fede nel socialismo. Ai nostri giorni, certe propensioni possono nondimeno condurre a delusioni pericolose. Wildmen non ci si improvvisa, come hanno dimostrato negli ultimi anni imprese di dilettanti o velleitari che si sono concluse tragicamente, perché la natura autentica non perdona. Muir fu tra i primi ad averne consapevolezza: wild life può significare wild death, ed è inutile aspettarsi l’aiuto divino21. Giunti fin qui, il concetto di wilderness sembra assumere davvero tanti significati diversi fra loro o addirittura contrari. Il wilderness è una realtà e un ideale, in cui il cristiano si riscatta lo spirito, e anche dove il panteista avverte di essere 19 R.W. Gilbert, Notes from a Wilderness Layman, in M. McCloskey e J.P. Gilligan (a cura di), Wilderness and the Quality of Life cit., pp. 81-87. 20 F. Nietzsche, Genealogia della morale (1887), tr. it. Adelphi, Milano 2000, p. 55. 21 M. Cohen, The Pathless Way. John Muir and American Wilderness, University of Wisconsin Press, Madison 1984, p. 61. S&F_n. 23_2020 345 immerso nel divino, dove il pagano crede di non avere più freni alla propria libertà e il laico si sente moralmente nobilitato. È uno scenario di godimento estetico e però di sofferenza, nel quale è inutile raccomandarsi all’Onnipotente. Il wilderness è una fuga dal consesso civile e però salvaguardarlo richiede sostenibilità economica. È un nido di istinti primordiali che va protetto con l’impiego della ragione. L’uomo non vuole rinunciare al wilderness, ma nel wilderness l’uomo è meno importante della altre creature; anzi, perché esso continui a esistere l’uomo deve impedire a se stesso di violarlo. E allora, come recuperare il posto dell’uomo nella natura? Forse, non si tratta soltanto di sollecitare quel che di animalesco si trova nell’uomo, ma anche di individuare quel che di umano si trova nella bestia. Per Darwin infatti ogni specie prosegue nella successiva e lascia qualcosa di sé nella precedente. È più animale l’uomo che si comporta da bestia o la bestia che dimostra barlumi di affetto, di intelletto e persino di morale, come le scienze biologiche ritengono di aver determinato? Inoltre, qualsiasi specie per modificarsi fisicamente e nelle abitudini deve cambiare lì dove è immagazzinata l’informazione genetica. Ciò significa che gli animali possono assumere modificazioni nel comportamento a livello individuale, ma per tutto il resto l’adattamento ai mutamenti d’ambiente è estremamente lento, nell’ordine di migliaia o di milioni di anni22. Al contrario, per un essere umano se l’ambiente cambia, egli trova soluzioni adattative e la generazione successiva è già preparata ad affrontarla, poiché la trasmissione delle caratteristiche psico-comportamentali acquisite è praticamente immediata23. Di qui discende che se l’Homo sapiens scegliesse la via del recupero ambientale, le prossime generazioni sarebbero teoricamente in grado proseguirla. 22 Cfr. B. Commoner, The Closing Circle, Knopf, New York 1971. 23 Vedi A. Nisbett, La vita di Konrad Lorenz (1976), tr. it. Adelphi, Milano 1978, p. 276. ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 346 4. Il wilderness riattualizzato Il moderno concetto di wilderness parte dal principio di tutela, che deve impedire il consumo di massa dell’habitat naturale, pena la sua irrimediabile trasformazione, appunto, in contesto umano, passibile di essere corrotto. Tuttavia, questa forma di trascendentalismo adattato in alcuni casi non è contraria alla fruizione degli spazi protetti, secondo dettami che non escludono aprioristicamente la caccia24. Le convinzioni anti-caccia e la scelta di un animalismo vegetariano sono per la verità generalmente bersagli polemici del pensiero wilderness, che in questo si distacca dal pensiero ecologista e le considera inadeguate, postmoderne e artificiose. Inoltre, ricreare artificialmente un ambiente selvaggio potrebbe risultare una contraffazione, trasformare la natura in uno spettacolo mummificato o in una sua patetica caricatura ad usum del turista: in altre parole, la «società dello spettacolo» finirebbe per trasferirsi e rovesciare lo spettacolo della natura in una natura- spettacolo. Nondimeno, il precetto wilderness non può essere applicato al Vecchio Continente – ad alta densità urbana e culturale – allo stesso modo che alle Americhe, all’Africa equatoriale, all’Asia tropicale e all’Oceania. Sarebbe improponibile. In Europa, per tradizione, è più rilevante l’albero che la foresta: la quercia, l’olmo, il tasso, il melo, il cipresso secolari sono una sorta di monumenti della tradizione, che risalgono all’epoca di San Francesco, di Chaucer, di Elisabetta I, di Newton, di Garibaldi25. L’Associazione Italiana Wilderness (AIW), per fare un esempio, si dichiara consapevole che nell’accezione di base la tutela delle aree selvatiche comporta un impegno continuo a non modificare determinate zone, e però si mostra favorevole a moderati prelievi di risorse rinnovabili. 24 J.F. Reiger, American Sportsmen and the Origins of Conservation, Winchester Press, New York 1975. 25 K. Thomas, L’uomo e la natura. Dallo sfruttamento all’estetica dell’ambiente (1500-1800) (1983), tr. it. Einaudi, Torino 1994. Vedi anche M. Agnoletti, Storia del bosco. Il paesaggio forestale italiano, Laterza, Bari-Roma 2018. S&F_n. 23_2020 347 Riguardo al territorio italiano, storicamente lavorato e umanizzato, pertanto vengono ragionevolmente abbandonati i presupposti di verginità di derivazione americana, spostando l’interesse dall’integrità ambientale all’integrità paesaggistica26. D’altra parte, persino Thoreau si era chiesto: è possibile combinare la durezza selvaggia con l’intellettualità dell’uomo civilizzato, amalgamare le due forme apparentemente antitetiche e recuperare l’una senza rinunciare alle conquiste dell’altra? Se la risposta fosse positiva, forse oltre che di un nuovo wilderness si dovrebbe parlare di autosufficienza: questo non significherebbe retrocedere obbligatoriamente a una qualità della vita idealizzata e primitiva, quanto piuttosto proseguire cimentandosi in un modo di vivere diverso, che comporta l’accettazione delle responsabilità di uomo e di individuo. Spetta all’uomo ponderare attentamente prima di agire e avvalersi dei propri poteri per interferire con la piramide della vita27. In definitiva, un’area selvatica potrebbe avere un proprio valore indipendentemente dal fatto che costituisca o meno una risorsa per gli umani28. Secondo Leopold i luoghi selvaggi sono le unità di base della natura e lo stato di salute di ciascuno di questi luoghi dovrebbe essere misurato sulla base della sua capacità di 26 Per un’idea dello stato dell’arte in Italia: M. Armiero e S. Barca, La storia dell’ambiente. Un’introduzione, Carocci, Roma 2004 e, a cura di M. Armiero e M. Hall, Nature and History in Modern Italy, Ohio University Press, Athens (Oh) 2010. 27 Cfr. J. Seymour, Il libro della autosufficienza (1976), tr. it. Mondadori, Milano 1989, pp. 7-11. 28 Vedi T. Regan, The Case for Animal Rights, University of California Press, Berkeley 1983; A. Brennan Thinking about Nature, University of Georgia Press, Athens (Ge) 1988. William Cronon (The Trouble with Wilderness; or, Getting Back to the Wrong Nature, in W. Cronon (a cura di), Uncommon Ground: Rethinking the Human Place in Nature, Norton, New York pp. 69-90), ha affermato che il wilderness è una “invenzione culturale” dell’uomo civile per sottrarsi alle sue responsabilità di abitante delle metropoli. Vedi anche G. Scarpelli, Wilderness, in A. La Vergata, G. Artigas-Menant, J.J. Boersema (a cura di), Nature, Environment and Quality of Life, «Archives internationales d’histoire des sciences», LXIV, 2014, pp. 83-93; L. Robin, Wilderness in a Global Age, Fifty Years On, in «Environmental History», XIX, 2014, pp. 721-727. ALTERAZIONI Giacomo Scarpelli, Filosofia selvatica 348 autoregolazione29. Il valore reale del wilderness non risiederebbe quindi né nel passato né nel presente, ma nel futuro. Tuttavia, ciò implicherebbe un recupero del principio della biodiversità, un recupero che sarebbe realizzato attraverso alcuni cambiamenti fondamentali e definitivi: limitazione e controllo della tecnologia, modifica dello stile di vita, riconoscimento della diversità organica30. Il wilderness andrebbe perciò inteso come impegno etico nel suo significato più limitato e più ampio allo stesso tempo: una vera e propria filosofia d’azione. Potrebbe allora delinearsi la possibilità che civiltà e wilderness non siano due concetti strenuamente opposti. La civiltà, nella sua ricerca di un’etica rassicurante, trova conforto nella certezza che la fauna e la flora selvatiche ancora esistono e, del resto, il wilderness per esistere richiede pur sempre che la civiltà si assuma il compito di proteggerla. GIACOMO SCARPELLI sceneggiatore cinematografico e storico della filosofia e delle idee, insegna all’Università di Modena e Reggio Emilia. È Fellow della Linnean Society of London e della Royal Geographical Society giacomo.scarpelli@unimore.it 29 A. Leopold, Pensare come una montagna cit. Vedi anche J.M. Turner, Rethinking American Exceptionalism: Toward a Transnational History of National Parks, Wilderness, and Protected Areas, in A. Isenberg (a cura di), The Oxford Handbook of Environmental History, Oxford University Press, Oxford 2014, pp. 282-308. 30 P. Ehrlich, The Loss of Diversity, in E.O. Wilson, Biodiversity, Washington, D.C., Natural Academy Press, 1988, pp. 21-27. 
work_nfem4eofnfaqxlyyxkbry3skdm	----	Note to Our Readers: An Editorial Adieu Note to Our Readers: An Editorial Adieu Jana L. Argersinger ESQ: A Journal of the American Renaissance, Volume 53, Number 1, 2007 (Nos. 206 O.S.), p. ii (Article) Published by Washington State University DOI: For additional information about this article [ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] https://doi.org/10.1353/esq.2007.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/223482 https://doi.org/10.1353/esq.2007.0001 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/223482 Note to Our Readers: An Editorial Adieu With this issue, we come to the close of Albert J. von Frank’s productive two-decade tenure as editor and coeditor at ESQ, following his retirement in 2006 from the faculty of Washington State University. To mark the occasion and honor his rich contributions to the journal and the profession at large, colleagues and friends offer these apprecia- tions of a scholar and mentor whose circles of influence continue to widen. Looking back, Brigitte Bailey (University of New Hampshire) concludes that Professor von Frank has been twice-crucial to her career: first, when the challenge and invitation of his tutelage converted her, a first-year graduate student at Harvard over thirty years ago, to the study of nineteenth-century American literature; and second, when the generous rigors of his editorial support for her first publication (in ESQ) helped “move” her “into the profession.” The recollections of Barbara Packer (UCLA) run deep in the recent history of intellectual ventures inspired, particularly, by Emerson: During one of the “fabled Snow House summers in Cambridge where the Emerson edi- tors gathered,” an advance look at what would become von Frank’s first book—The Sacred Game: Provincialism and Frontier Consciousness in American Literature, 1630–1860 (1985)—introduced her to the signal provocations of his scholarship. When his multivolume collaborative edition of Emerson’s complete sermons appeared, beginning in 1989, it enlarged by many pages our accessible fund of primary materials. He followed with the “dazzling” Trials of Anthony Burns: Freedom and Slavery in Emerson’s Boston in 1998—“the only academic book I’ve ever read,” Packer says, “that is impossible to put down.” Another ambitious project of the 1980s, The Poetry Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson, brought von Frank into company with Ralph H. Orth (now Professor Emeritus, University of Vermont), who enlisted him for the editorial team and later recognized his extraordinary contribution in the work’s preface: “Mr. von Frank . . . became the central figure of this edition. He did most of the initial research, wrote many of the analyses and reviewed all the others, and came to be regarded as the authority of last resort because of his unmatched knowledge of Emerson’s published and unpublished poetry.” In all he has subsequently done, Professor Orth affirms, von Frank “has shown the same high level of performance”: “I am glad to have had him as an editorial comrade at the beginning of his distinguished career.” Lawrence Buell (Harvard University) credits von Frank’s scholarship with a range of benefits felt by both himself and his students over the years—“one of the best papers” in a recent Harvard seminar on American transcendentalism “was inspired by a read- ing of The Trials of Anthony Burns”—and von Frank himself, in Buell’s view, “exemplifies the very highest standards of professional integrity.” For Teresa Toulouse (University of Colorado, Boulder), a coeditor of the Emerson sermons, von Frank’s particular gift has been to quicken in her “a certain attitude toward scholarship—that it is serious, that it does involve trying to make mysterious and scrupulous contact with other minds operating in other contexts,” and that it is at the same time “wonderfully pleasurable.” According to David M. Robinson (Oregon State University), another collaborator on the Emerson sermons who recalls that partnership as a privilege, “every scholar working in the field of American literature owes Al von Frank a tremendous debt of gratitude” for his part in “making ESQ one of the profession’s leading journals”—among “the best records we have of the directions this generation has taken in the study of American romanticism.” And The Trials of Anthony Burns, in Robinson’s estimation, is “a central book on transcendentalism” that will “be seen increasingly as groundbreaking and field-de- fining in the next several decades.” Wai Chee Dimock (Yale University) offers back to von Frank a suggestive account of string theory from a book he recommended to her notice, Michio Kaku’s Parallel Worlds: “The bewildering variety of subatomic particles are like a tiny string that ‘vibrates at different frequencies and resonances’: ‘If we were to pluck this vibrating string, it would change mode and become another subatomic article, such as a quark. Pluck it again, and it turns into a neutrino.’” No better image comes to mind, for Dimock, of “the frequencies and resonances in Al von Frank’s own work and his different modes of inspiration.” For these colleagues, for me, and for ESQ readers past and future, this scholar is clearly a sparking presence—a mind on fire. Jana L. Argersinger ESQ53.1.indb 2 9/25/07 8:35:37 AM 
work_ngysrvbpfrd27afptr66w3jqiu	----	Memorial to Benjamin I. Schwartz (1916–1999) Obituaries 299 fine library and his research community, will survive him and eventually give birth to the great Institut de la Chine Contemporaine that he wanted so much. Memorial to Benjamin I. Schwartz (1916-1999) Paul A. Cohen, Merle Goldman and Roderick MacFarquhar During a span of almost four decades, from the early 1950s until the late 1990s, Benjamin Schwartz, through his teaching in the Harvard Govern- ment and History departments and in his books and articles, was a towering figure in the field of Chinese studies. He set standards - above all at the intersection of intellectual history and politics - that were a guide and source of inspiration to students and scholars worldwide. His influence extended well beyond the China field; it also cut across conventional disciplinary boundaries, touching political science, religion, philosophy, culture and literature, as well as history. Ben's learning was vast, ranging far beyond even the cultures of the ten languages he spoke or read. In the classroom he refused to be confined to the topic at hand, and to co-teach with him was to participate in a lively but always collegial dialogue. He conveyed his learning not as a fixed set of truths or simple accretion of information, but with a distinctive approach to the posing of problems. Central to this approach was a healthy scepticism toward received wisdom, predictive models of explanation (such as political and economic systems), the cliches of everyday academic discourse, and any and all forms of reductionism. Again and again, Ben insisted on defining what was taken for granted and unveiling the complexity that lay hidden behind simple labels. In his essay "On arenas of social choice," for example, he asserted that our difficulty in grappling with contemporary social thought came not so much from the neologisms as from "the older established vocabulary which we simply take for granted. Words such as 'social,' 'society,' 'system' and 'choice' seem transparent, and yet buried in them are all the problems and dilemmas of the contemporary human sciences." A man of paradoxes and odd juxtapositions, Ben is not easily catego- rized as a scholar-thinker. He wrote seminal books and articles on the history of Chinese Communism. Chinese Communism and the Rise of Mao (1951) is still a pioneering work not only in the field of comparative communism, but also in political and intellectual history. It analysed the ideological and intellectual debates of the early decades of the 20th century within their extraordinarily complicated political, personal and , available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:25, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 https://www.cambridge.org/core 300 The China Quarterly international contexts. With copious documentation, he was the first scholar to provide evidence showing that the Chinese Communists were not simply puppets of Stalin and the Soviet Union but had their own agendas. A leader such as Mao Zedong was willing to disobey Moscow when its orders clashed with what he perceived as China's realities. His second book, In Search of Wealth and Power: Yen Fu and the West (1964), focused on a major late Qing thinker whose translations of Western social and political thought were enormously influential among contemporaries. Ben's analysis of Yan Fu shed light on the struggles of a whole generation of Chinese intellectuals who sought to come to grips with the tensions evoked by China's political and intellectual encounter with the West. His third path breaking work, The World of Thought in Ancient China (1985), presented a wide-ranging discussion of ancient Chinese thought and views of political power, illuminated by frequent comparisons with the foundational ideas of other civilizations, in particu- lar the early West. Temperamentally, Ben was unwilling to be confined by his pro- fessional involvement as a "China specialist." He often engaged in the broader intellectual issues of the day, as evidenced by his public response to Allan Bloom's best-selling assault on American higher education and his searching critique of Hannah Arendt's treatment of Jews and Judaism in her "religion of politics." Although a frequent and vigorous defender of the "area-studies" approach with its implicit emphasis on the defining importance of culture, both popular and elite, he consistently displayed faith in the existence of a world of common humanity transcending cultural boundaries. Most striking, the wielding of power, the search for its sources, the concern for its moral ramifications and other issues pertaining to its proper use were for him subjects of intense and abiding intellectual fascination. Yet, it would be hard to find someone less interested than Benjamin Schwartz in the trappings of personal power. Schwartz's former students presented him in 1990 with a festschrift entitled Ideas across Cultures. Among his many other honours, he served as President of the Association for Asian Studies in 1979-80 and Director of the Fairbank Center at Harvard in 1983-84. His book on ancient Chinese thought was awarded the Ralph Waldo Emerson Prize of Phi Beta Kappa in 1986 and also won the American Historical Association's 1986 James Henry Breasted Prize. In 1998, he received the American Historical Association's Award for Scholarly Distinction. Though becoming increasingly frail in his last year, Ben never lost the sparkle in his eyes or any of his intellectual capacities. Up to his final days, his presence raised the level of any discussion from the petty and mundane to profoundly intellectual and moral. Though thoroughly en- gaged in his own religion of Judaism, he had a deep appreciation and intellectual understanding of all ways of thought - Buddhism as well as Confucianism, Chinese popular religion as well as philosophical Daoism, and Islam as well as Christianity. He had an uncanny ability to get to the heart of a question or academic argument, no matter how confused and obscure it might be. Just a few weeks before his death, in , available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:25, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 https://www.cambridge.org/core Obituaries 301 a discussion at the Fairbank Center about whether or not the Chinese revolution had been necessary, Ben characteristically illuminated the issue by questioning the very premise of the question. He asserted that "the question should not be whether the revolution was necessary, but whether a revolution was necessary." In that one statement, he invited us to consider a deeper reality and so transformed the debate. Ben's death has left not only a profound intellectual void but also a personal one. As Richard Baum has written elsewhere, he was "a true gentle-man (with equal emphasis on each syllable)." He treated everyone - young and old, student or statesman, the Fairbank Center kitchen staff with whom he spoke Portugese or eminent visiting scholars - with equal respect as individuals with whom one could engage in intellectual discourse and from whom one could learn. He was a man of rare personal as well as intellectual character, whose likes we are not apt to encounter again. Gerry Segal (1953-1999) David S. G. Goodman Gerry Segal died on 2 November 1999 at the age of 46 after a six-month struggle with cancer. He was an articulate, provocative and courageous commentator on a wide range of international politics, best known for his work on Pacific Asia and particularly China. For almost two decades, he repeatedly focused on matters of the utmost topicality by challenging current orthodoxies, and in the 1990s became a leading public intellectual in the English-speaking world. In the process, he not only set agendas for academics and policy-makers, but provided both intellectual and organi- zational frameworks for them to interact with. After graduating from the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, with Ellis Joffe, and the London School of Economics, with Michael Yahuda, Gerry Segal started his academic career as a lecturer in international politics. He held university lectureships first in Aberystwyth, then in Leicester and later in Bristol. At the end of the 1980s, he headed a project on comparative foreign policy reform in communist party states at the Royal Institute of International Affairs for three years. In 1991, he moved to the International Institute for Strategic Studies, first as senior fellow respon- sible for Asian security, and later for two years as Director of Studies. Gerry Segal's written legacy is impressive both for its quantity and its constant intellectual stimulus. He wrote or co-authored 13 books, edited or co-edited another 18, and published more than 120 articles and essays in academic publications. Even more impressive was the challenge of his relentless intellect. His Ph.D. thesis on the 'Great power triangle' - between Washington, Moscow and Beijing - established a style which , available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:25, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0305741000004069 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_nifx2mcfszhbla5rbbvcsnjy7i	----	High-Tech, High-Touch: Reconciling Technology and Integrative Medicine Lawrence D. Rosen, MD “At best, technology supports and improves human life; at its worst, it alienates, isolates, distorts and destroys.”1 —Author and Futurist John Naisbitt V is medicatrix naturae. Latin, from Greek, originally attributed to Hippocrates, translated as “the healing power of nature.”2 One of the core principles of the integrative med- icine philosophy. We value nature and natural healing. We strive for homeostasis, for balance. We laud the healing powers of our planet and lament the erosion of her natural resources. Ecologically sustainable medicine— buzz words we use to cham- pion the necessary greening of medicine— recognizes not only the impact of the en- vironment on health but the impact of the practice of healthcare on the environ- ment. We cheer recently published re- search documenting the positive effects of green spaces on human health.3 We strive to be models of health for our patients, adopting yoga or meditation or other practices designed to simplify our lives and harness the power of the mind-body connection for optimal healing. Yet we live and practice in an increas- ingly technology-driven society. E-mail and texting are default methods of com- munication, and our patients request that we “friend” them on Facebook and follow health advice delivered in brief 140-char- acter bursts on Twitter. In fact, in a 2008 survey conducted by the Commonwealth Fund, nearly 90% of respondents indi- cated that they wanted their physicians to communicate electronically.4 Patients want high-tech doctors. But they also want more face-to-face time, more personal connections. The onslaught of high-tech has been blamed for rising disconnection and depersonalization in our communi- ties. We worry about the impact on chil- dren’s minds and about the very nature of human interaction. In the increasingly complex world we inhabit, how do we rec- oncile our high-touch values with our high-tech realities? Communication, I believe, is the key shared value. Integrative Medicine pro- motes healing relationships and open communication as cornerstones of our philosophy. Indeed, as defined in 2004 by the Consortium of Academic Health Cen- ters for Integrative Medicine, integrative medicine “is the practice of medicine that reaffirms the importance of the relation- ship between practitioner and patient, fo- cuses on the whole person, is informed by evidence, and makes use of all appropriate therapeutic approaches, healthcare profes- sionals and disciplines to achieve optimal health and healing.”5 It is notable that this statement emphasizes the importance of the relationship in healing. Regardless of the modalities a practitioner employs— drugs or herbs, surgery or acupuncture needles—it is the very nature of the con- nection between practitioner and patient that begins to define integrative medical care. It is the foundation of our work. In fact, we have research to support this common-sense contention. In a landmark 1987 study published in the British Med- ical Journal, Dr KB Thomas reported on his experiences with 200 patients in general practice.6 All patients presented with phys- ical symptoms (eg, cough, sore throat, ab- dominal pain, headache) but demon- strated “no abnormal physical signs” and no definitive diagnosis could be made at that time. Patients were divided into two main groups: half were given a “positive” consultation (given a firm diagnosis and told confidently that they would be better in a few days) and half were given a “neg- ative” consultation (told that it was uncer- tain was what wrong). In both groups, half were offered treatment (a placebo) and half were offered no specific treatment. When asked how they felt, two weeks after consultation, a significantly greater per- centage of those given a positive consulta- tion reported feeling better than those given a negative consultation (64% vs. 39%, P ! .01). Whether or not patients received prescribed treatment made no difference. The outcomes were predomi- nantly predicated on communication be- tween doctor and patient. Connection is crucial, therefore, to the practice of integrative medicine. Many of our tried-and-true healing remedies em- phasize the power of human contact. In the most ancient, basic, and perhaps most poorly understood (from a conventional, scientific perspective) modalities, this in- volves touch. Hands-on therapies such as osteopathy, chiropractic, and massage are just a few of the many practices that rely on human touch for healing. The power of touch is tremendous. Even those prac- tices that involve energy fields (eg, acu- puncture, reiki) incorporate person-to-per- son contact as a core element. Sadly, this element of healthcare practice—the “touch” in healing touch— has become more and more removed from modern medical care. Practitioners and patients alike mourn the loss of face-to-face com- munication time. This is the mechanism by which, historically, we have established healing relationships. Especially in pri- mary care, relationships that develop through 1:1 time spent together over many years are crucial to both patient and practitioner satisfaction. The previously cited Commonwealth Fund report points out that “our fragmented system rewards 138 EXPLORE May/June 2011, Vol. 7, No. 3 Guest Editorial GUEST EDITORIAL high-cost, intensive medical intervention over higher value primary care, including preventive medicine and the management of chronic illness.” But there are opportu- nities in these challenges, for, as Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “Our strength grows out of our weakness.”7 We must learn how to leverage our interest and proficiency in technology as a means to facilitate communication and, therefore, connection and the de- velopment of relationships. The rise of social networks like Facebook highlights our society’s desire to reconnect and share stories, and information, in new and interesting ways. Practitioners who have embraced this technology are now able to address not only the individual information needs of a single patient but can deliver messages instantaneously to an entire community. For example, I estab- lished a Facebook page for my practice, The Whole Child Center.8 Although we are physically located in Northern New Jersey, we have “fans” from many coun- tries. I share many different kinds of infor- mation. Recent examples include notices of public speaking events, health articles of note in the news, a video about how to make your own natural hand sanitizer, and a request for gently used car seats for a family struggling with financial difficul- ties. The opportunities for connection— and for action—are endless in this new world of doctor-patient communication. For those of us that desire to advocate change on a larger scale, there is perhaps no better method available to do so. Just as then-candidate Barack Obama used Web 2.0 technologies to engage voters and help vault him to the Presidency in 2008, so can we adopt these methods to promote integrative medicine as a trans- formative model of healthcare. The importance of communication also extends to dialogue among practitioners. The 2008 Commonwealth Fund report notes, “We can no longer afford, nor should we tolerate, the outcomes of our fragmented healthcare system. We need to move away from a cottage industry in which providers have no relationship with, or accountability to, one another.” Communication among providers and co- ordination of healthcare services is abso- lutely a key principle of integrative medi- cine. The Consortium urges us to make “use of all appropriate therapeutic ap- proaches, healthcare professionals and disciplines to achieve optimal health and healing.” In order for care to be truly inte- grated, it is crucial that we encourage and support communication between various types of healthcare practitioners. In the most local sense, this may occur in clinics and hospitals, but practically, many prac- titioners across a wide distance care for the same patient. Coordination of therapies and dialogue across disciplines is a key in- gredient in ensuring the success of an in- tegrative model. Communication tech- nologies may, in fact, offer us the best way to connect with each other to best serve our patients, no matter where we live. Al- though person-to-person e-mail is most commonly utilized, newer technologies may, in fact, be more robust and secure. For example, inexpensive, password-en- abled, Web-based solutions now allow au- diovisual chats among groups of provid- ers. Documents and images can be shared for viewing and commentary. Geographi- cal distances are no longer barriers, as voice and video are streamed through the internet. On a more global scale, on-line networks have developed to allow practi- tioners to discuss clinical, research, educa- tional, and advocacy ideas. One such model is the International Pediatric Inte- grative Medicine Network,9 which I started in January 2004. Based on the free Yahoo Groups format, the International Pediatric Integrative Medicine Network now links over 400 practitioners from countries across the world with the ex- pressed mission to connect pediatric inte- grative medicine practitioners and organi- zations via a moderated, secure electronic network. In an age where attendance at medical conferences is dwindling and practitioners are looking for new ways to connect, professional listservs provide technological solutions to the challenges of connecting practitioners. There are numerous challenges in pa- tient and practitioner education, as well. As attendance at conferences has dwin- dled, the use of technological solutions for health education has skyrocketed. Ironi- cally, forward-thinking nonprofit organi- zations founded on the principles of supporting nature and ecological sustain- ability have adopted Web-based solutions to promote their missions. Joel Kreisberg’s Teleosis Institute coordinates an on-line course, “Introduction to Leadership In Green Health Care,”10 which has included participants from as far away as Nepal. Richard Louv’s Children and Nature Net- work features a blog, Field Notes from the Future, on their informative Website. One post discusses “Techno-Naturalists,” pro- moting the use of gadgets that might en- courage children (and quite a few adults) to get outdoors.11 Many people believe that technology is the antithesis of nature. Here’s an alternate view. A fishing rod is tech- nology. So is that fancy backpack. Or a compass. Or a tent. When boomers my age ran through the woods with play guns (as distasteful as that might be to some people), they were using technology as an entry tool to nature. Today, the family that together goes geo-caching or wildlife photo- graphing with their digital cameras, or collecting pond samples, is doing something as legitimate as going fish- ing; both involve gadgets that offer an excuse to get outside. Young citi- zen naturalists are bound to have a different attitude about technology from many older people—and that could be an advantage. There are even potential ecological advantages inherent in the use of tech- nology. Electronic medical record sys- tems reduce the use of natural resources like paper. Educational webinars reduce travel-related energy expenditures. Al- though social networks and on-line courses cannot replace human face-to- face interaction, they can create and sus- tain relationships that otherwise would not form or survive. One of the ecological advantages of integrative medicine is the promotion of self-care. In their seminal article, “Inte- grative Medicine: Bringing Medicine Back to Its Roots,” Ralph Snyderman and Andrew Weil implore us to “involve the patient as an active partner in his or her care, with an emphasis on teaching each patient the best way to improve his or her health.”12 Mind-body medicine skills, easily taught to children and adults alike, are one such set of self-care tools that can help patients cope with stress and pain. Biofeedback, a mind- body practice that uses monitors to feed back to patients biophysical data of which they are typically unaware, has undergone a revolution with respect to 139Guest Editorial EXPLORE May/June 2011, Vol. 7, No. 3 home use through the development of less expensive, more mobile hardware and software. This is just one example of an integrative medical modality made more accessible and useful through tech- nological advancement. Over the years, I have delivered many versions of a presentation I call, “Back to the Future.” The concept is that the use of many modalities we now include in integrative medicine— herbals, acupunc- ture, massage, and so on— goes back thousands of years in some cultures. The future of healthcare, which I firmly be- lieve is rooted in the principles and prac- tices of integrative medicine, is in fact dependent on reemphasizing time- tested, old-school values like practitio- ner-patient and practitioner-practitioner relationships through the use of modern communication tools. If we are to move forward, it must towards a hybrid high- tech, high-touch system that does not shun the use of technology but instead embraces the challenge of mindfully utilizing our best new technologies to best achieve the goals of integrative medicine. REFERENCES 1. “Naisbitt Questions the Future of Tech- nology.” Available at: http://findarticles. com/p/articles/mi_m1571/is_22_17/ai_ 75435164/. Accessed June 8, 2010. 2. “Vis medicatrix naturae—Wikipedia, the free en- cyclopedia.” Available at: http://en.wikipedia. org/wiki/Vis_medicatrix_naturae. Accessed June 8, 2010. 3. McCurdy LE, Winterbottom KE, Mehta SS, Roberts JR. Using nature and outdoor activity to improve children’s health. Curr Probl Pediatr Adolesc Health Care. 2010;40: 102-117. 4. “Organizing the U.S. Health Care Delivery System for High Performance—The Com- monwealth Fund.” Available at: http:// www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/ Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/ Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery- System-for-High-Performance.aspx. Accessed June 15, 2010. 5. “About Us—AHC—Consortium of Aca- demic Health Centers for Integrative Med- icine.” Available at: http://www.ahc.umn. edu/cahcim/about/home.html. Accessed June 8, 2010. 6. Thomas KB. General practice consulta- tions: is there any point in being positive? Br Med J (Clin Res Ed). 1987;294:1200-1202. 7. “V. Essays. Compensation. 1841. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1909-1914. Essays and Eng- lish Traits. The Harvard Classics.” Avail- able at: http://www.bartleby.com/5/105. html. Accessed June 15, 2010. 8. “Facebook/The Whole Child.” Available at: http://www.facebook.com/thewholechild, accessed June 15, 2010. 9. “IPIM-NETWORK: The IPIM Network.” Available at: http://health.groups.yahoo. com/group/IPIM-NETWORK/. Accessed June 15, 2010. 10. “Teleosis Institute: Green Health Care— Environmental Health Education Pro- grams.” Available at: http://teleosis.org/ ghcp.php. Accessed June 15, 2010. 11. “TECHNO-NATURALISTS: Field Notes from the Future.” Available at: http:// www.childrenandnature.org/blog/2010/ 05/20/techno-naturalists/. Accessed June 15, 2010. 12. Snyderman R, Weil AT. Integrative medi- cine: bringing medicine back to its roots. Arch Intern Med. 2002;162:395-397. Lawrence D. Rosen, MD, is the Founder of The Whole Child Center in Oradell, NJ and may be con- tacted via email at lrosen@wholechildcenter.org 140 EXPLORE May/June 2011, Vol. 7, No. 3 Guest Editorial http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1571/is_22_17/ai_75435164/ http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1571/is_22_17/ai_75435164/ http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1571/is_22_17/ai_75435164/ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vis_medicatrix_naturae http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vis_medicatrix_naturae http://www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery-System-for-High-Performance.aspx http://www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery-System-for-High-Performance.aspx http://www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery-System-for-High-Performance.aspx http://www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery-System-for-High-Performance.aspx http://www.commonwealthfund.org/Content/Publications/Fund-Reports/2008/Aug/Organizing-the-U-S--Health-Care-Delivery-System-for-High-Performance.aspx http://www.ahc.umn.edu/cahcim/about/home.html http://www.ahc.umn.edu/cahcim/about/home.html http://www.bartleby.com/5/105.html http://www.bartleby.com/5/105.html http://www.facebook.com/thewholechild http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/IPIM-NETWORK/ http://health.groups.yahoo.com/group/IPIM-NETWORK/ http://teleosis.org/ghcp.php http://teleosis.org/ghcp.php http://www.childrenandnature.org/blog/2010/05/20/techno-naturalists/ http://www.childrenandnature.org/blog/2010/05/20/techno-naturalists/ http://www.childrenandnature.org/blog/2010/05/20/techno-naturalists/ mailto:lrosen@wholechildcenter.org 
work_nkf3f7pukfbb3l6hc3tvrh6gqe	----	Microsoft Word - 01_ LARS ET AL_VF.doc Dossier ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015: 9-25 eISSN 1775-352X © ESSACHESS The polyphony of values and the value of polyphony Professor Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN Department of Intercultural Communication and Management, Co- penhagen Business School Denmark DENMARK ltc.ikl@cbs.dk Professor Mette MORSING Department of Intercultural Communication and Management, Co- penhagen Business School Denmark DENMARK mm.ikl@cbs.dk Professor Ole THYSSEN Department of Intercultural Communication and Management, Co- penhagen Business School Denmark DENMARK ot.mpp@cbs.dk Abstract: While human communication is inherently symbolic and thus potentially vague, ambiguous and polyphonic, there is a growing emphasis on certainty, accura- cy and consistency in everything contemporary organizations say and do. Organiza- tional messages about corporate values, in particular, are expected to accurately and unambiguously depict the organizational sender “behind” the words. Current com- munication principles, in other words, seek to reduce or eliminate the polyphonic potential of symbolic communication. In this paper we challenge this trend, arguing that the polyphony of corporate values is valuable because it facilitates change by inviting alternative interpretations and stimulating participation and critique. Lack of accuracy in organizational messages – including inconsistencies between what or- ganizations say and what they do – may be an important driver of organizational and social change, because such differences have potential to raise expectations and apply pressure on organizational actors to improve their practices. Keywords: symbolic communication, polyphony, aspirations, change 10 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… *** La polyphonie des valueurs et la valeur de la polyphonie Résumé: Alors que la communication humaine est intrinsèquement symbolique et donc potentiellement vague, ambiguë et polyphonique, il y a un accent croissant mis sur la sécurité, l'exactitude et la cohérence dans tout ce que les organisations con- temporaines disent et font. Les messages organisationnels sur les valeurs d'entre- prise, en particulier, sont censés décrire avec précision et sans ambiguïté l'expéditeur organisationnel « derrière » les mots. En d'autres termes, les principes de communi- cation actuels cherchent à réduire ou éliminer le potentiel polyphonique de la com- munication symbolique. Dans cet article, nous remettons en question cette tendance, en faisant valoir que la polyphonie des valeurs de l'entreprise est précieuse, car elle facilite le changement en invitant aux interprétations alternatives et à stimuler la participation et la critique. Le manque de précision dans les messages de l'organisa- tion - y compris les incohérences entre ce que les organisations disent et ce qu'ils font - peuvent être un moteur important de changement organisationnel et social puisque ces différences ont le potentiel de susciter des attentes et exercer de la pres- sion sur les acteurs organisationnels pour améliorer leurs pratiques. Mots-clés: communication symbolique, polyphonie, aspirations, changement *** Introduction Semiotically speaking, most human communication is symbolic in the sense that its meaning is contingent upon social customs and conventions. As a particular class of signs, symbols are connected to the objects they represent by virtue of a law, a rule or a more or less established agreement (Peirce, 1985; see also Johansen, 1985). In contrast to more “motivated signs” (Barthes, 1977), symbols have no qualities in common with the objects they stand for, like icons have, and are not affected by these objects in any contiguous or causal way, like indices. When it comes to sym- bolic communication, the link between the signifier and the signified, in other words, is ambiguous and uncertain and not given once and for all, but subject to more or less contestable interpretations. As such, symbolic communication holds great potential for gaps or perceived gaps between what is said and what is under- stood. And since nothing in the human brain makes it possible to distinguish with any certainty between fantasy and reality, between hallucination and perception (Morin, 1973), such gaps cannot be eliminated once and for all. Symbolic communi- cation, therefore, is bound to be challenged by different audiences for its lack of essential consistency with and connection to the world it claims to represent. Obviously, senders may seek to reduce the ambiguity of their words by clarify- ing what they mean in each particular context, for example by explaining and elabo- rating on specific terms and their practical implications, thereby narrowing the field of possible interpretations. This may be the preferred strategy for communicators ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 11 whose primary concern is to reduce the risk of being misunderstood. In other situa- tions, however, senders may decide to retain vagueness and ambiguity keeping the field of interpretation open, perhaps in order to gain time to think and explore fur- ther and/or in the hope of appealing to many different audiences at once. When organizations and decision makers, for example, talk about corporate sustainability and responsibility they are usually careful not to specify too much in order not to be held to very specific understandings of their words (Christensen, Morsing & Thyssen, 2015). Thus, while symbolic communication is a field where polyphony has potential to thrive, such potential may be suppressed or released for strategic reasons. In this paper, we focus especially on the latter type of communication, as exem- plified by corporate values. As a specific type of organizational communication where polyphony is usually allowed to persist, indeed may be needed to ensure on- going exploration and improvement, corporate values are typically formulated in an abstract language, without specific details or concrete indications of follow-up ac- tion. Such “strategic ambiguity” (Eisenberg, 1984) allows communicators to pro- mote a feeling of unity and agreement across several different audiences without being held to very specific interpretations of their words. These features, according to Eisenberg, facilitate change. Conversely, too much precision may stifle change: “When organizational goals are stated concretely, they are often strikingly ineffec- tive” (Eisenberg, 1984: 231). In spite of these insights, the trend these years in most professional communica- tion from corporations and their leaders, as well as from governments and institu- tions, is that signifiers must correspond to signifieds and that organizational values, in other words, describe organizational reality as it “is”, free of deceit and preten- sion. This trend is essentially organized around the ideal of consistency, emphasiz- ing that consistency forms the basis of trust and credibility and that organizations therefore must avoid gaps and discrepancies in their communication (e.g. Riel, 1995; Goodman, 2000; Balmer & Greyser, 2003). This we see, for example, when organi- zations and their leaders are urged to walk-the-talk, that is, practice what they preach or let action follow their words. While such prescriptions make sense in many day-to-day situations, they cannot stand alone. Intellectuals and poets like, for example, Oscar Wilde and Ralph Waldo Emerson are often quoted for ridiculing a one-sided emphasis on consistency in social and political life, claiming that such emphasis runs counter to creativity and imagination. Still, we experience these years a growing intolerance for discrepancies in the communication of organizations and governments (Schultz, Castello and Morsing, 2013). These social actors, especially, are expected to align their messages as well as their behaviors, for example between front stage and back stage, between ideals and practice, and between current messages and messages of the past. Such emphasis on consistency is obviously not equally distributed across genres of com- munication. Thus, while inconsistencies and discrepancies among messages or be- tween talk and action are accepted in some genres such as poetry and love letters or 12 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… regarded as defining feature of the genre itself, such as advertising or some types of branding (where humor and hyperbole are flourishing), the dominant expectancy when it comes to corporate ideals and values is that the messages must accurately and unambiguously reflect the underlying organizational reality (Okoye, 2009; Rob- erts, 2003; Waddock & Googins, 2011). Insisting on communication that describes the world as it “is” and thus expecting a direct or 1:1 relationship between corporate communication and organizational reality, this trend is implicitly calling for communication devoid of arbitrariness and convention, thus flirting with the idea that signs may be totally motivated (Baudrillard, 1981). Contemporary ideals for professional communication, thus, are essentially rejecting the polysemic nature of human communication. If we, alternatively, conceive of organization as polyphony, that is, as multiple contrasting voices that express themselves simultaneously and autonomously (Hazen, 1993; Humphreys & Brown, 2002), we are in a better position to understand how organi- zational talk about values – even when it does not accurately or unambiguously represent current organizational practices – may stimulate change. The aim of this paper is to show that since human communication is overwhelm- ingly symbolic, and thus essentially vague, ambiguous and polyphonic, a one-sided insistence on accuracy and consistency in organizational messages may prevent organizations and their leaders from navigating in complex environments and thus accomplishing goals of organizational and social change. More specifically, we first discuss the limitations of the consistency ideal, as it is currently pursued by contem- porary organizations, arguing that most value talk from organizations escape the ambitions of message control inherent in this ideal, especially because many voices participate in defining what the organization “is”. Secondly, we argue that since communication constitutes organization (and not simply represent it), the polyphony of organizational talk becomes an essential dimension of organizational change. Thirdly, we point out that while inconsistency may be rejected because it is often regarded as a source of hypocrisy, hypocrisy may be unavoidable in environments shaped by conflicting values and ideas. Finally, we argue and illustrate with a few examples how the inconsistencies that potentially accompany corporate values may be important drivers of change, primarily because perceived differences between organizational talk and current action have potential to raise expectations and apply pressure on corporate actors to improve practices. 1. Consistency practices and the illusion of control It is not difficult to understand and, to some extent, appreciate the current em- phasis on accuracy and consistency in corporate and political communication as it is expressed these years by many different audiences, including critical NGOs, inquisi- tive media, employees and management consultants. The potent combination of new information technologies, “corporate meltdown”, financial scandals and ecological calamities leaves the impression that the general public has increased access to an ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 13 organizational reality “behind” organizational words and thus a growing ability to judge whether the two are “properly” connected. The implicit assumption seems to be that a tenacious insistence on consistency will create even more transparency and insight and thus, eventually, improve organizational and political practices (Strathern, 2000; Espeland & Sauder, 2007). So strong is this conviction that organi- zations and political parties increasingly implement consistency strategies to avoid criticism and respond to the growing demand for transparency (Christensen & Lang- er, 2009). While many disciplines, professions and practices emphasize the value of con- sistency as a source of organizational accountability, transparency and trust, espe- cially the field of corporate communication has built its identity around the promise of avoiding inconsistencies in professional communication. Corporate communica- tion is the notion, the ideal and the managerial process of communicating an organi- zation as a unique, coherent and credible entity (Christensen & Cornelissen, 2011). Van Riel (1995), for example, describes corporate communication as an all- embracing framework designed to manage “the total business message” (see also, Åberg, 1990; Harrison, 1995). Within this framework, integration and “orchestra- tion” of different messages and behaviours in order to avoid gaps and inconsisten- cies becomes a central managerial activity. Where corporate communication used to be a rather vague term referring loosely to messages from (major) corporations, today it designates a specific mindset that is applied to many, if not all, sorts of or- ganizations (Cornelissen, 2008; Torp, 2009), including even political parties. Ac- cording to this mindset, senders can avoid ambiguity by managing communication as an integrated and consistent whole (Christensen, Morsing, & Cheney, 2008). Although the promise of integration and orchestration may sound appealing to managers, who fear the judgment of critical audiences zealously looking for gaps and inconsistencies, such managerial control of the overall message from an organi- sation is beyond reach (Christensen, Firat, & Torp, 2008). As Humphreys and Brown (2002: 422) point out, “…organizations are not discursively monolithic, but pluralistic and polyphonic, involving multiple dialogical practices that occur simul- taneously and sequentially.” And while polyphony may be repressed by specifica- tions and other types of follow-up communication, the inability of senders to main- tain a consistent presence is particularly noticeable when major corporations talk about their values. Phrased in abstract language without specific details, corporate values are prone to be challenged or manipulated by critical audiences. While some audiences openly reject the value statements, others play around with the messages and create unflattering spoofs out of official corporate images. Consider, for exam- ple BP’s rebranding slogan “Beyond Petroleum”. A Google search of this slogan quickly demonstrates that BP’s objective with its rebranding project is greatly over- shadowed by alternative interpretations. 14 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 15 As this example illustrates, the sender organization does not “own” its own communication and does not decide the limits of its own messages (Christensen, Firat, & Cornelissen, 2009). What represents an organization to its audience is not given once and for all, especially not when it comes to value statements, such as BP’s, where the organization releases the symbolic potential of its message and leaves the field of interpretations open. Such cases, where many voices inside and outside the organization may claim to represent the organization as it “is”, calls on us to challenge the notion of organizational monolith. While increased precision and consistency, and thus attempts to suppress polyphony, may seem a necessary and, perhaps, attractive solution to the individual organization caught in interpretative struggles with critical stakeholders, such approach if applied to organizations in general may deprive society of an important source of renewal and change. To appreciate the implications of this point, we need to acknowledge that com- munication is not simply an activity an organization performs once a while, in be- tween other important activities, but is itself constitutive of the phenomenon we call an ‘organization’(Cooren, 1999; Schoeneborn, 2011). 2. When talk is organization – and vice versa It is well established in the philosophy of language and beyond that reality is typ- ified and experienced through language (Schutz, 1967), which is our primary “organ of reality” (Cassirer, 1953: 8). As such, language directs our attention, shapes our perception and engages us in new types of ideals and activities. Since language, in other words, is consequential, talk may be seen as action (e.g., Austin, 1962; Fou- cault, 1972; Searle, 1969). Based on this insight, scholars in the fields of organiza- tion, management and communication have variously argued that organizations are “phenomena in and of language” (Boje et al., 2004, p. 571; Grant, Keenoy, & Os- 16 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… wick, 1998), that communication has organizing properties (Cooren, 1999; Taylor & van Every, 2000) and that organizations, accordingly, are discursive constructions (Ashcraft et al., 2009; Fairhurst & Putnam, 2004). More specifically, Taylor and van Every (2000: 4) argue that “organizations emerge in communication,” that is, through the ways leaders and members speak about and account for organizational decisions, plans and activities. Communication and organization, according to Taylor and van Every, are equivalent terms or mutu- ally constitutive. Hereby, they do not suggest a simple one-to-one correspondence between what an organization says and what it does, but emphasize that talk is a formative activity that sets up, shapes, reproduces and transforms organizational reality. In this perspective, talk is action just as action speaks in a number of signifi- cant ways. In a similar manner, Luhmann’s (1995) systems theory explains how organizations are constituted in communication. Luhmann’s point of departure is that all social systems use communication as their particular mode of reproduction (Luhmann, 1986). As a specific type of social system, an organization, according to Luhmann, is an autopoietic (auto-poiesis from Greek: self-creation) system of inter- connected communicative events. Regarding talk as the raw material for construct- ing the organization, Luhmann explains how organizations are (re)produced in a constant flow of communication in which self-referring chains of decisions organize and move the organization onward toward new goals and practices (see also, Schoe- neborn, 2011). Inspired by such understanding of communication and organization, and their mutual relationship, scholars of organizational communication have argued that organizations talk about themselves not simply to inform their surroundings about ongoing activities – and, thus, deliver accurate descriptions of the organization as it “is” here and now – but to confirm and celebrate entrenched self-perceptions of the organization or discover what the organization might become in the future (Chris- tensen, Morsing & Thyssen, 2013). Organizational talk, in other words, is autocom- municational in the sense that messages ostensibly directed at external audiences simultaneously speak to sender organizations and their own members (Broms & Gahmberg, 1983; Christensen, 1997). Through autocommunication, especially if it is broadcast in media of high status and authority, organizations may seduce them- selves to believe in appealing messages about themselves, messages that enhance preferred identities and self-images (Christensen & Cheney, 2000). Simultaneously, however, such communication is necessary for organizations (and other social ac- tors) to explore new ideas and practices and, thus, inspire change. In such processes, accuracy and consistency are not chief concerns. Autocom- municational exploration and inspiration is driven primarily by plausibility (cf. Weick, 1995) and the desire for favourable images of the organization able to per- suade and motivate managers, employees and other relevant audiences to improve daily practices and inspire top management to set new goals and standards (Chris- tensen, 1997). Talk is organization and organization is talk. Communication practic- es focused on exclusively on consistency, insisting on mutually coherent messages ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 17 that only describe already achieved goals and ideals, not only ignore the polyphonic potential of symbolic communication, but fail to stimulate organizational and social changes. This point will be elaborated in the remaining article. 3. Inconsistencies and the significance of hypocrisy In addition to the essential polyphony that confronts the notion of organization as a coherent monolith, a major challenge to communicative consistency resides in the fact that most organizations are shaped by conflicting demands and concerns (Brunsson, 2003). Contemporary organizations, thus, not only need to secure growth and profits to shareholders, but also – and simultaneously – to contribute to em- ployment, provide good working conditions including possibilities for personal development and decent salaries for employees, good service for customers, and sustainability and responsibility for society at large. And while some organizations may be able to establish some workable balance or trade-off between such different demands and concerns (Porter & Kramer, 2002, 2006), they are rarely mutually compatible and never fully complementary. Thus, a wholehearted pursuit of one or some of these goals inevitably impinges negatively on the ability of the organization to fulfil some of the others (Pfeffer & Salancik, 1978; March, 1994; Wijen, 2014). Inconsistencies are therefore inevitable in most organizations. Since inconsistencies are regarded as sources of hypocrisy, however, they are of- ten condemned as unacceptable. A conventional understanding defines hypocrisy as “the assumption or postulation of moral standards to which one’s own behaviour does not conform” (Oxford Dictionary, cited in Brunsson, 2003: 202). Hypocrisy, thus, is usually associated with pretence and double standards. According to Bruns- son, however, hypocrisy is also at play outside a strictly moral realm, for example whenever the links between talk, decisions and actions are loosened or when these activities have varying degrees of correspondence. While hypocrisy is usually re- garded as a problem because it challenges our ethical standards, Brunsson argues that hypocrisy may be a solution in environments shaped by conflicting interest and demands, because it allows organizations to address different audiences in different ways, giving some the benefit of talk, others the benefit of decisions and yet others the benefit of actions. Instead of talk leading straight to decisions and actions, each part fulfills its own purpose and pleases its specific audience – at least temporarily. Discontent often resurfaces and hypocrisy may not be stable in a critical environ- ment where many audiences insist on keeping an organization to its words (Bruns- son, 2003; Christensen et al., 2013; Haack et al., 2012). Whether we condemn or condone hypocrisy, understood as such loose links be- tween talk, decision and action, we have to acknowledge that connections among the three are not always as strong as organizational audiences expect or might prefer. What is said and done, for example, can have varying degrees of correspondence depending on the situation and the resources available. This is true, as Brunsson (2003) points out, because managers face conflicting demands and goals, as men- 18 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… tioned above, but also because they talk, decide and act on different occasions and in different contexts. Different audiences expect different types of talk and while some fora are designed to elicit talk, others are more suitable for action. In addition, most interesting forms of talk – for example, talk about food waste or CO2 reduction – are difficult, if not impossible, to honor with corresponding action in the very moment the words are uttered. Time, in other words, plays a central role when assessing whether there is consistency or not. In some situations, initiatives are first talk (and often, lots of it), then action (e.g. Haack, et al., 2012; Christensen, Morsing & Thyssen, 2013). This is the case, for example, when managers and other organizational communicators are uncertain about the exact steps to take in order to implement the initiatives and/or when they talk in order to appeal to different audiences. In other cases, organizations experiment more or less spontaneously and only seek to put the action into words in order to make sense of it afterwards (Weick, 1979). Both situations may be at work when organizations talk about sus- tainability or social responsibility. As Brunsson makes clear, while there are things that organizations can say, but not do – at least not very easily – there are other things they can do, but not say. Subscription to ethical principles, for example, may be easier for organizations and their managers to articulate than to actually put into action, perhaps because they are vaguely formulated in order to appeal to many different types of organizations. Conversely, while organizations may find it fairly easy to focus exclusively on product features, they may have a harder time explaining or admitting that this is in fact their primary focus, especially in a world that calls for engagement for the sur- rounding world. Consistency between talk and action in such cases might, according to Brunsson, produce more immorality than the hypocritical behavior that we es- chew: Morality does not necessarily gain from the cessation of hypocrisy. If we have previously talked and made decisions that were more moral than our actions, then the cessation of hypocrisy means that we are now talking and making decisions that are as immoral as our actions … For example, hypocrisy makes it possible for a company with a polluting production and product (a car producer, for instance) to establish environmental plans and to decide upon environmental goals. Without hypocrisy, it would admit that its operations were environmentally hazardous, that it planned to continue these operations, and it would have to defend them as being necessary and unavoidable. Then many people would probably think that the com- pany polluted not only the physical environment but the moral environment as well (Brunsson, 2003: 222). According to this logic, values and ideals that are difficult to live up to need more supporters, in other words more talk, than values and ideals that can easily be performed. If only those relatively few organizations that are able to perform the values from day one and around the clock are allowed to celebrate and articulate them out loud, the values may not catch on as broadly and as quickly as we may wish. To require immediate and full consistency between what organizations say and do would deprive organizations of some of the dynamics inherent in their talk. ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 19 4. Inconsistency as a driver of change Obviously, certain types of organizational talk need to reflect organizational real- ity more precisely than others (Rasche, 2012; Gilbert, Rasche & Waddock, 2011). Product specifications or financial statements, for example, are expected to provide very accurate and detailed descriptions of the specific organizational realities they refer to. And although such descriptions are symbolic like most human communica- tion, they need to be perceived as precise for organizations to function properly. Similar expectations usually surround organizational communication such as envi- ronmental reporting, although perceived precision in this case is more essential to secure the sender’s legitimacy. Much of what top managers say to organizational members or other audiences, however, is not about projects or ideals already ac- complished, but about ambitions, beliefs and hopes, in other words, aspirations for the future. As Shotter (1993) writes: “…our talk is not about something which al- ready actually exists, but is about what might be, what could be the case, or what something should be like” (p. 153). In such cases, inconsistencies between organiza- tional talk and reality may be essential drivers of change. Communication designed to motivate personnel, for example to increase daily efforts and improve specific practices, is not about what the organization already is, but about what it might become. And although a good sense of perceived reality among the audience may be essential for the communicator to actually instigate the desired changes, the manager is not an engineer or an accountant informing us about the true state of the organization, but a motivator telling us what can possibly be made true (Christensen et al., 2013), provided certain necessary steps are taken. Importantly, however, the communication task of the manager is not to provide a fully accurate account of what remains to be done in order to reach the goals, but to convince the audience that the goal is realistic and within reach. To do that, it may not be sufficient to assure organizational members and other audiences that the or- ganization is “working on it” and earnestly trying to become better, even though such message may be accurate and honest. Leaving the impression that lots remains to be done, such truthful descriptions may instead demotivate internal and external stakeholders and thus prevent a more attractive reality becoming true. Leaders there- fore, as Thayer (1988) points out, do not focus so much on what “is”, but seek to present reality “as it might be, giving what “is” thereby a different “face” (cited in Weick (1995: 10). Such communicative practice is evident also beyond managerial pep talk or other direct attempts to motivate employees. Consider, for example, the following state- ments in an annual report from the Danish pump producer Grundfos (Grundfos, 2011): “We commit ourselves to environmentally sustainable business practices.” “We contribute to global sustainability through groundbreaking technologies, which improve the quality of life for people and take care of the planet.” “…sustainability remains an integral part of our objective and values.” 20 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… Although we may well discuss what commitment entails more precisely, ques- tioning how committed the respective organization is to the sustainability issue, how much it contributes to the quality of life of people and how integrated its sustainabil- ity efforts are with other business practices, such statements may still play a signifi- cant role for organizations and society. To announce ideals and ambitions is to cre- ate expectations, especially if such announcements are made publicly in media of high status and authority (Christensen et al., 2013). Articulating ambitions while the world is listening is significantly more demanding than keeping the ideals to oneself, because such communication empowers stakeholders, both inside and outside the organization, with ammunition to increase pressure on organizations to align their actions with their words (Bromley & Powell, 2012; Wijen, 2014). In such cases, the combination of inconsistencies between talk and action and demands for increased is essential to drive change. An interesting illustration of such dynamics is provided by Haack, Schoeneborn and Wickert (2012) in their study of the Equator Principles and their adaptation and use by financial institutions. While many of the institutions in their study initially subscribed to the principles only ceremonially, that is, simply to look good, their official subscription gradually set processes of change in motion not only because external stakeholders enforced compliance, but also because organizational members began to expect and demand alignment between words and action. More specifical- ly, Haack et al. show how representatives from the banks reproduced the “songs” of critical NGOs, emphasizing the need for the organization to change and live up to its own ideals and promises. Haack et al. describe this process as a “Trojan horse” be- cause the new ways of talking about responsibility sowed the seeds of novel practic- es among employees and gave voice to internal activists. Combined with new job functions associated with the implementation of the Equator Principles, such talk stimulates what Haack et al. call a “creeping commitment” to the ideals. Had the involved organizations not dared to announce their subscription to the Equator Prin- ciples before they were able to live up to the 24/7, the talk had not been able to drive the change. Livesey and Graham (2007) demonstrate similar dynamics in their study of Roy- al Dutch/Shell Group. Focusing on how eco-talk emerged in Shell through the 1990s after a period of intense critique of the organization, they show how this talk gradu- ally became a creative force in changing organizational perceptions, affecting priori- ties, and channelling corporate resources into sustainable practices. Simultaneously, Shell’s new eco-talk at once reflected and shaped the understandings of environmen- tal responsibility in society at large. Livesey and Graham’s study, thus, illustrate that the talk of large corporations has the potential to transform not only the perceptions but also the practices of social actors, including the organizations themselves, even when their actions are not fully living up to their words. For such dynamics to unfold, thus, consistency between words and action is not the only critical condition. In fact, it may be argued that strict attempts to enforce consistency between words and action will limit the performative and pragmatic ESSACHESS. Journal for Communication Studies, vol. 8, no. 1(15) / 2015 21 dimensions of organizational talk and thus delay or obstruct the changes sought for. To take advantage of the transformative potential of organizational talk presupposes an willingness to tolerate temporary inconsistencies between talk and action and to subject such inconsistencies to potential pressure from activists, interest groups, regulators, journalists, and other critical stakeholders, including the organization’s own employees. In other words, if change is the ultimate goal it is essential that organizations air their ambitions, beliefs and hopes as much as possible in public domains, even when they have difficulties living up to their own words. Christensen et al. (2013) apply this line of thinking to the field of corporate so- cial responsibility (CSR). With their notion of “aspirational talk”, understood as communication to which current organizational practices cannot yet live up, Chris- tensen et al. argue that the articulation of organizational ambitions in the area of CSR is essential in stimulating new insight and moving organizations forward to- ward higher CSR standards and better practices. While they acknowledge that cor- porate CSR aspirations do not unfold automatically or predictably into corporate CSR initiatives, such aspirations, especially when announced in public media, help define or illuminate a collective “horizon” of excellence to which employees, NGOs and other stakeholders can hold the organization accountable (see also, Lunheim, 2005). Based on these insights, Christensen et al. challenge the conventional under- standing of CSR communication as superficial, as opposed to CSR action, arguing that also talk is action and often a highly important type of action necessary to set further changes in motion. If we reject this insight and insist on absolute consistency between talk and ac- tion, as social critics, journalists and media tend to do these days, many actors would have to keep quiet, and thus lose an important vehicle for exploration (Weick, 1995). Moreover, society would lose important input to the development of higher stand- ards, within CSR and beyond. Talk that does not reflect current organizational prac- tices is therefore preferable to situations where organizations refrain from articulat- ing ideals out of a fear of being held to their words. Extending this line of thinking to the rebranding efforts of BP mentioned above, it is possible to argue that aspira- tional self-presentations from major corporations such as BP are essential building blocks in creating new CSR expectations, in the oil industry and beyond. While sceptics may object to such analysis, claiming that BP should have refrained from using its slogan ‘beyond petroleum’ until its “house” was in complete order, includ- ing standards of safety on its oil platforms, it is important to acknowledge that aspi- rations from major, iconic corporations play a significant role in defining ideal aim- ing-points and preferable ways of thinking and acting for other corporate players. Conclusion Although the growing emphasis on consistency between corporate talk and ac- tion is understandable given the many cases of scandals and fraud in recent years, this ideal cannot stand alone. Consistency and inconsistency are complementary forces in the process of moving organizations toward better practices. Although 22 Lars Thøger CHRISTENSEN et al. The polyphony of values… inconsistencies may be unpleasant for corporate senders and unacceptable for (some of) their audiences, they may nonetheless be essential drivers of organizational and social change. Aspirational talk, defined as differences or inconsistencies between what organizations claim about themselves and what they currently are able to live up to, raise expectations in society by defining a collective notion of excellence to which employees, NGOs and other stakeholders can hold the organization account- able. Without some tolerance for differences and inconsistencies, such dynamics cannot unfold as easily, in which case both corporations and society stand to lose. Importantly, this argument does not downplay the significance of public scrutiny and critique (Christensen et al., 2013). Rather, it suggests that a combination of unrestricted articulation of corporate ideals, policy commitments, activist pressure and regulation may be ideal to ensure that organizational value talk is followed by suitable action. If the gap between reality and aspiration in this way is closed, it may be re-opened by setting new aspirations to ensure organizational dynamics. It is through communication that organizations (and individuals) inspire themselves to set higher standards and formulate interesting aspirations. Only by articulating such aspirations loud and clear so that significant others can hear it, do they become real and binding to their senders. The remaining issues, of course, concern the optimal conditions for corporate talk to unfold into appropriate action. How big differences are we willing to accept between corporate ideals and corporate behavior? How much inconsistency can we as society tolerate? And for how long? 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work_noky2ligefdqths2322jh7vynm	----	Tributes to Richard F. Bakemeier, MD Richard E. Gallagher # Springer 2010 To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betray of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. Ralph Waldo Emerson Dr. Richard F. Bakemeier had a long and distinguished career in medicine, which included notable contributions to medical science, patient care, and cancer education. In the course of his career, he has played many roles including physician, teacher, scientist, mentor, leader, lobbyist, editor- in-chief, and as a persistent constructive critic of the status quo in cancer education. This issue of the Journal of Cancer Education is dedicated to Dr. Bakemeier in recognition of the many contributions he has made to the field of cancer education. As a part of this recognition, long-standing professional friends and colleagues of Dr. Bakemeier were asked to share with fellow members of the American Association for Cancer Education their thoughts on the contributions Dick has made to cancer education, some of their memorable interactions with Dick, and the personal and professional qualities that he brought to his work. The JCE received a unanimous and enthusiastic response to this request reflecting the high esteem with which Dr. Bakemeier continues to be regarded. There are clear themes that run through these personal observations and comments but rather than summarizing and commenting on those themes, I think the personal comments are best appreciated by allowing them to speak for themselves. The JCE thanks each of you who took the time to provide thoughtful comments. All of the contributions have been utilized; in some cases, due to the length of the submitted material, it was necessary to shorten the original submission. R. E. Gallagher (*) Division of Medical Education, Wayne State University Medical School, Department of Family Medicine and Public Health Science Detroit, Michigan 48201, USA e-mail: rgallagh@med.wayne.edu J Canc Educ (2010) 25:129 DOI 10.1007/s13187-010-0114-x Tributes to Richard F. 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work_nr7dolyexnannlxxsjdkcuxw7i	----	Working with Hindu Clients in a Spiritually Sensitive Manner David R. Hodge Although social work is witnessing growing interest in spiritual and religious issues, little guidance has appeared in the literature to assist practitioners in addressing the unique spirituality of rapidly increasing non-Western populations. This article discusses the significant cultural/spiritual beliefs, practices, and values of Hindus, the largest Asian religion in the United States. Possible conflicts emanating from the lack of congruence between the values of Hindu consumers, derived from the dharma—the sacred moral order—and the values of social workers, derived from a Western Enlightenment discourse, are highlighted. The author offers practice-oriented suggestions to facilitate cultural sensitivity and to further integrate the spiritual strengths of Hindus into the clinical dialogue. Key words: dharma; diversity; Hinduism; religion; spirituality W hen working with nonmainstream popula- tions, effective service provision is often contingent on the practitioner's level of cultural competence (Mizio, 1998; Poole, 1998). Cultural competence is predicated on developing an awareness of the two worldviews involved in the counseling dialogue, the consumer's and the practitioner's (McPhatter, 1997). Not only should workers strive to develop an empathetic under- standing of consumers' reality, but workers should also seek to acquire an awareness of their own culturally informed assumptions (Wambach 8c Van Soest, 1997). Based on the new awareness, social workers can implement interventions that are congruent with the consumer's beliefs, values, and practices. Lack of cultural competence can have serious ramifications, particularly when working with re- ligious traditions that practitioners may not be familiar with, such as Hinduism. Not only is effec- tive practice impeded, but harm may occur. Reddy and Hanna (1998) emphasized that practi- tioner application of typical Western secular val- ues and related interventions with Hindus in counseling settings my cause "confusion and fur- ther negative affect." Indeed, whereas Goodwin and Cramer (1998) found that 80 percent of the 70 Hindus in the study would use a counseling service, they also found that 76 percent of respon- dents "were insistent that the counselor should be someone who understood their culture inti- mately" (p. 422). Most social workers, however, have received no training on Hinduism during their graduate pro- grams (Canda 8c Furman, 1999), suggesting the need for practitioners to familiarize themselves with this population. This need may be particu- larly salient given that Hinduism is the largest Asian religion in the United States (Richards 8c Bergin, 1997) and is growing rapidly (Williams, 1997). Yet, only a few articles have appeared in the literature on Hinduism (Canda & Furman), and none has focused on orienting workers to in- teract with Hindu consumers. This article attempts to equip workers with a practice-oriented understanding of Hinduism. This articles highlights the centrality of commu- nity as a metaphor for understanding Hinduism CCC Code: 0037-8046/04 $3.00 O 2004 National Association of Social Workers, Inc. 27 and leads into a discussion of the dharma, the underlying sacred order that informs classical Hinduism. Hinduism Hinduism is a 12th-century Persian term used by Mushms to describe "the belief of the people of India" (Fenton et al, 1993, p. 21). Although there are more than 800 million Hindu adherents worldwide, 13 percent of the earth's population (Juthani, 1998), the overwhelming majority live in India, the cradle of Hinduism, where they are ap- proximately 85 percent of the population (Fenton et al.). Thus, Hinduism is closely tied to Indian history, geography, and culture. In the eyes of many Indians, and especially among the Hindu majority, Hindu culture and Indian culture are functionally equivalent (Fenton, 1988). Hindu self-awareness and self-identity affirms Hinduism as a single religious universe (Weightman, 1998). As Melton (1999) noted, there are a num- ber of commonly held beliefs, practices and val- ues, including a shared religious history in India. Conversely, it is important to note that there is an extraordinary degree of diversity within Hindu- ism. For example, even prevalent terminology, such as Brahman and dharma, can signify a wide range of divergent and discrete concepts among various spiritual traditions within the religiion (Reat, 1990). Consequently, it should be kept in mind that this article is intended to provide social workers with an "exploratory working hypothesis" with which to interact with Hindu clients, rather than a definitive framework. In other words, practition- ers should use the concepts developed in this ar- ticle as a starting point, while allowing consumers the freedom to adjust practitioners' understand- ing of their reality on the basis of their own inter- pretation of Hinduism. Centrality of Community For social workers raised and educated in a West- ern Enlightenment-derived worldview that em- phasizes personal autonomy, human rationality, and a positivist epistemology (Crocker, 1997; Jafari, 1993), the Hindu cosmology can represent a radically different model for understanding real- ity. Shweder and colleagues (1997) suggested that U.S. society stands in direct contrast with Hindu culture. The concepts of individualism, au- tonomy, materialism, and secularism that charac- terize Western, and especially U.S., culture are subordinate in Hindu society, where the concepts of community, interdependence, and divinity are primary, made salient, and implicitly institution- alized. Animated by the divine, Hindu culture tends to conceptualize the person as inherently part of a social body (Miller, 1994). Consequently, for most Hindus there is a great awareness of, and respect for, human interdependence and interconnectedness, which is understood to be the foundation of well-being. If an individual's ac- tions weaken the community to which the person belongs, they weaken the person. Instead of indi- viduals attempting to meet their own needs, people work together to care and provide for each other (Miller, 1994; Shweder et al., 1997). This interdependent social body is grounded in and is a manifestation of the Hindu dharma. Dharma—the Sacred Order The dharma has been suggested as the "funda- mental unifying principle of traditional Hindu- ism" (Fitzgerald, 1990, p. 112). Indeed, many In- dians use the term to signify their own religion (Corbett, 1994; Fenton et al., 1993; Weightman, 1998). In addition to religion, dharma also signi- fies eternal order, moral law, justice, righteous- ness, and personal duty (Fenton et al.; Juthani, 1998; Weightman). Dharma can be understood as an unseen, metaphysical moral order that perme- ates the universe. Because dharma represents the ultimate moral and sacred reality, ordering society and personal conduct to correspond with the de- sign of the universe is one's duty and brings integ- rity, harmony, and balance both societally and personally. Harmonizing beliefs, practices and values with the implicit sacred design, manifested as one's personal dharma, fosters corporate and individual well-being. Because the dharma is woven into the fabric of existence, Hinduism can be conceived of as all- encompassing, providing structure and coherence to all facets of life (MuUatti, 1995). The encom- passing nature of dharma represents a sharp con- trast with Western Enlightenment epistemology, which tends to dichotomize the secular and sacred into two different realms, public and private, and gives precedence to the former over the latter (Crocker, 1997). Therefore, for Westerners who construct reality from within an Enhghtenment framework, "Hinduism is more than a religion; it Social Wort/Volume 49, Number 1 /January 2004 28 is a way of life" (Siegel, Choldin & Orost, 1995, p. 131). Indeed, in addition to personal moral codes, values, ritual conduct, and other areas typically assigned to the private sphere, dharma forms the basis for family roles and the structure of tradi- tional Indian society. Family The dharma places a high priority on the family. For most Hindus, family is considered to be a critical stage on the path of action, discussed later in this article, which leads to ultimate spiritual liberation (Fenton et al., 1993). It is through the family that Hindus fulfill many religious obliga- tions. Consequently, a number of rituals and spiritual practices are connected with family life. Common life cycle rituals of Hindus in the United States, which typically involve the extended family whenever possible, include prenatal rituals, birth and childhood ceremonies such as naming the child, marriage, and cremation within 24 hours after death (Williams, 1988). As an expression of the path of devotion, families commonly have one or more family gods that are honored at home shrines (Mullatti, 1995). The individual dharma differs for women and men. Traditionally, wives are considered exten- sions of Hindu goddesses, responsible for trans- mitting cultural and religious knowledge— dharma—to their children and through them to the wider society (Reddy & Hanna, 1998). Con- versely, husbands have been responsible for pro- viding for the family and have final responsibility for family decisions (Mullatti, 1995). The marriage unites two family systems in a manner that approximates the Western bond be- tween blood relations. In keeping with the com- munity ethos of Hinduism, the individual is un- derstood to be embedded in a family that is embedded in an extended family, which in turn is embedded in an even wider kin network (Reddy & Hanna, 1998). The family, and often the kin net- work, may take an active role in guiding mate se- lection, up to and including arranged marriages. In essence, rather than marrying the one they love, Hindus love the one they marry. Western divorces based on the perception that one's emo- tional needs are no longer being satisfied by one's partner and the resulting suffering such divorces cause for the participants, particularly women (Smock, Manning, & Gupta, 1999) and children (Ross & Mirowsky, 1999; Wallerstein & Lewis, 1998), is comparatively rare among Hindus (Mullatti, 1995). Child rearing is typically child-centered, with children being seen as a gift from the divine. Having a son is often important to family mem- bers because only a male child can discharge the spiritual debt the husband owes his ancestors (Mullatti, 1995; Saraswathi & Pai, 1997). Little pressure is applied to children to become autono- mous and independent. Rather, children are so- cialized to see themselves as an integral part of a divinely ordered whole. For example, money may be held communally rather than individually in the form of personal allowances (Dhruvarajan, 1993). In keeping vnth the child-centered approach, it is generally held that the gratification of the child's desires in conjunction with an environ- ment that fosters minimum frustration is most conducive for development (Saraswathi & Pai, 1997). Disciplinary "time outs" are often per- ceived as too distancing and controlling of the child's behavior. Correction is commonly applied by holding the child and discussing the situation, and perhaps spanking (Almeida, 1996), a disci- plinary measure that has been shown to enhance reasoning and ameliorate disruptive behavior (Larzelere, Sather, Schneider, Larson, & Pike, 1998). The Four Varnas For more than 2000 years, the dharma has been understood to prescribe the structuring of society into four varnas, or castes. Although this arrange- ment has been criticized by many Hindus and its salience seems to be decreasing, it bas provided India with a remarkably peaceful and stable social order for more than two millennia. In addition to many sub-varnas, four major varnas are recog- nized: the brahmans, who perform religious and spiritual duties, the kshatriyas, who govern and administrate, the vaisya, comprising merchants and farmers, and the sudras, who carry out menial tasks considered to be spiritually unclean (Fenton et al., 1993; Hiltebeitel, 1987). Ideally, this matrix of relationships is understood to work to the re- ciprocal advantage of all parties, with each one having duties necessary for the proper functioning of the whole (Hiltebeitel). All parties are needed and important to the health of society and benefit from a stable social system (Saraswathi 8c Pai, 1997). Hodge / Working with Hindu Clients in a Spiritually Sensitive Manner 29 The assignment of social roles is hereditary, in a manner analogous to Western society, where individuals are born into a particular set of envi- ronmental and personal attributes (for example, wealth, access to education, class status, intellec- tual and emotional intelligence) that enable them to attain certain social positions. However, the individualistic competitive di- mension that enables Westerners to achieve or maintain their personal social position is largely absent in Hinduism, where individuals know their position in the social structure from birth. Thus, the stable group orientation in Hinduism may foster a greater sense of community, intercon- nectedness, esteem, and security than is found in individualistic, competitive Western settings (Saraswathi & Pai, 1997; Shweder et al., 1997). Further- ^ ^ ^ more, through the process of karma and satnsara, the indi- vidual has the assurance of ob- taining what are often deemed to be more prominent social positions. Karma can be understood as a law of moral cause and effect. The Law of Karma and the Cycle of Rebirth Following the ethical duties of one's personal dharma allows one to accumulate good karma, while living selfishly results in the accumulation of bad karma (Fenton et al., 1993; Weightman, 1998). Karma can be understood as a law of moral cause and effect and is closely allied with belief in samsara, the cycle of birth and rebirth, or trans- migration, to which the soul is subject (Melton, 1999). Karma, in conjunction with samsara, pro- vides universal justice in the sense that actors reap the consequences of their unjust or meritorious actions in this and the next life. Therefore, karma and samsara provide a meta- physical explanation for life's inequities that are otherwise unexplained and consequently can be a source of encouragement during trials. Con- versely, karma also may engender a sense of hu- man agency and hope for a better future, because it states that individuals possess free will and have the ability and potential to improve their standing in this life and the life to come (Juthani, 1998; Karnik & Suri, 1993). Furthermore, knowing that one has the opportunity to experience life again has been shown to decrease death anxiety (Parsuram & Sharma, 1992). Moksha—Liberation from the World Although the central precept of Hinduism is dharma, right living in this world, moksha, or lib- eration from this world, is also an important con- cept (Weightman, 1998). To escape samsara, with its possibility of a virtually endless cycle of death and rebirth, moksha is often sought. To achieve moksha, the individual must avoid the accumula- tion of any karma, good or bad, because it is karma that affects the transmigration of the soul. Although there are many, nonexclusive, roads to moksha, typically three major paths are cited: the paths of illumination, action, and devotion (Corbett, 1994; Fenton et al., 1993; Melton, 1999; Weightman). The path of illumination, jnana yoga, is based on meditation, which in turn leads to spiritual knowledge that results in lib- ^ ^ ^ 1 ^ eration. Particularly on this path, moksha is understood to occur when one's true, spiritual self, or atman, achieves unity with the all en- compassing, monistic Abso- lute—Brahman—sometimes referred to as the world-soul. Illumination occurs through meditative disciplines, which reveal how the illu- sion of this present empirical world has prevented one from seeing the ultimate unity of one's atman with the Brahman. The path of action, or karma yoga, suggests that selfiess action based on the requirements of personal dharma leads to moksha. However, these actions must be done without concern for per- sonal gain. Egocentricity results in the accumula- tion of karma and emphasizes separateness, which in turn inhibits union with the Brahman. Thus, in the way of action, moksha is achieved through performing actions based on the dharma in a spirit of detachment and selfiessness. As men- tioned earlier marriage and family, in which one has the opportunity to selfiessly serve others, are intimately tied into this path. Within the path of devotion, bhaktiyoga, lib- eration is obtained through devotion to a deity, or deities, with Shiva and Krishna being the most prominent in an extensive pantheon of deities. For instance, Krishna, an avatar, or incarnation of the Vedic deity, Vishnu, and the most popular deity of north India (WiUiams, 1988), is held by adher- ents to be the personal God who stands behind the impersonal Brahman. Krishna is worshipped Social Wor/c/ Volume 49, Number ] /January 2004 30 through various actions, including prayer and puja, or ritual offerings performed at household shrines or in a temple. Because Krishna is the creator of karma, he can be enjoined by the worship of his devotees to exempt followers from its effects and to grant liberation from samsara into an eternal life with Krishna (Fenton et al., 1993). As discussed earlier, most Hindu households have one room dedicated exclusively to puja and adopt one or more family gods (Fenton, 1988). Although the home shrine and temple are both considered residences of the gods, the family shrine is primarily responsible for transmitting religious beliefs and practices, particularly for Hindus in the United States (Williams, 1988). Although living in harmony with the dharma imposes a number of constraints on conduct, Hindus have considerable freedom in seeking moksha (Weightman, 1998). There are a number of sacred writings in Hinduism that serve to in- form the faith, including the Vedas, the Laws of Manu, the Upanishads, and the Bhagavad-Gita, the most popular text (Corbett, 1994; Williams, 1988). However, these scriptures play a relatively minor role in Hinduism, especially when com- pared with the Bible in Christianity or the Koran in Islam, although Hindu scriptures often assume increased prominence in U.S. settings as devo- tional texts (Williams, 1988). Transformative religious experience based on spiritual disciplines, rather than doctrinal con- cerns, is of central concern for most Hindus (Puhakka, 1995). Thus, in practice, Hindus tend to draw from all three paths, emphasizing various components on the basis of their caste, education, geographic location, personal tastes, stage of life, and so forth. However, for most Hindus, includ- ing those living in the United States, some combi- nation of the latter two paths is usually followed (Corbett, 1994; Miller, 1995). Hindus in the United States Hinduism has had a significant influence in U.S. history. Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, Tran- scendentalists such Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, and the New Age move- ment were all influenced in varying degrees by Hinduism (Tweed, 1997). Missionary efforts by Svami Vivekananda, prompted by his success at the 1893 World Parliament of Religions held in Chicago, led to the establishment of Vedanta Cen- ters throughout the United States. More recent missionary successes have been Swami Prabhupada and Maharishi Mahesh Yogi who, respectively, founded the International Society of Krishna Consciousness, or more popularly, the Hare Krishna movement, and transcendental meditation (TM). It is interesting and in contrast with Indian Hindus that the relatively less popular path of illumination, jnana yoga, has held the most attraction for U.S. converts, particularly in its TM form (Tweed; Williams, 1997). Although missionary activity by notable Hindu gurus or teachers has resulted in a number of con- verts and increased awareness of Hindu concepts among the general population, immigration has led to the rapid increase in the U.S. Hindu com- munity (Williams, 1997). Almost all Hindus in the United States are first or second generation immigrants. The repeal of the Asian Exclusion Act in 1965, which was introduced in 1917 because of heightened nationalist sentiment during World War I, has resulted in a dramatic population in- crease that shows few signs of abating (Melton, 1999). Ascertaining the exact number of Hindus in the United States is difficult because of a 1957 Congressional prohibition that prevents the United States government from collecting infor- mation on religious affiliation to safeguard reli- gious privacy (Williams, 1998). Figures ranging from just under half a miUion (Kosmin & Lachman, 1993) to about 5 million (Canda & Furman, 1999) have appeared in the literature. However, perhaps the best estimate is approxi- mately 1 million, a number that suggests that Hinduism is the largest Asian religion in the na- tion, with slightly more adherents than Buddhism (Richards & Bergin, 1997). The cohort of Hindu immigrants who entered during the post-1965 immigration are among the best educated and most professionally advanced and successful of any population, partly because of U.S. immigration regulations that favored professional and educational status (Williams, 1998). However, with the passage of the Family Reunification Act of 1990, immigration policy granted preference to relatives of earlier immi- grants. These latter arrivals are generally not as highly educated as their predecessors and conse- quently may face additional challenges adapting to their new home because of language barriers, employment problems, difficulty gaining access Hodge / Working with Hindu Clients in a Spihtuaiiy Sensitive Manner 31 to services, and other impediments. (Almeida, 1996). Hindu Social Supports Most Hindus have settled in urban areas (Corbett, 1994). New York City, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and Atlanta all have significant Hindu communities (Corbett; Fenton, 1988; Williams, 1988). New York State is home to just over one- third of U.S. Hindus, and California (10 percent). New Jersey (7 percent), and Illinois (7 percent) also have substantial populations (Kosmin & Lachman, 1993). The mushrooming growth has led to the estab- lishment of an extensive number of institutions to support Hindus in the United States. Currently, there are more than 412 Hindu centers in the United States, including an accredited university in Fairfield, Iowa, the Maharishi University of Management (Tweed, 1997). This total also in- cludes more than 50 major temples built since 1976 in cities throughout the United States, al- though full operation has been hindered to some extent by the lack of brahman priests (Williams, 1997). More than 500 Hindu organizations, number- ing in size from a few individuals to more than 15,000, have also been established (Williams, 1988), although a number of the 412 centers noted would also be included in this category. These organizations frequently offer a wide range of programs and provide social support for Hindu immigrants (Fenton, 1988; Miller, 1995). As with temples, Hindu organizations, 90 percent of which were begun by lay personnel, have been hampered by the lack of qualified gurus, or spiri- tual teachers (Williams, 1988). There are two particularly widely read periodi- cals that help support and inform the American Hindu community (Miller, 1995). India Abroad offers news and information on activities related to ethnically specialized organizations, whereas Hinduism Today provides a mainstream Hindu perspective on contemporary issues. Both publi- cations are available online. Demographics Although Kosmin and Lachman's (1993) national data on religious groups may have underrepre- sented the Hindu population, particularly its more disadvantaged segment, it clearly reveals the middle- to upper-income status of the U.S. Hindu community, a finding that has been widely repli- cated in regional studies (Dhruvarajan, 1993; Fenton, 1988; Miller, 1995; Williams, 1988). When 30 major U.S. religious groups were com- pared on annual household income, Hindus {N = 142) ranked 10th, ahead of Catholics, Lutherans, and Baptists. When ranked according to level of education, Hindus were second, behind Unitar- ians. Forty-seven percent of Hindus were college graduates, more than twice the national average. Similarly, in the area of employment, Hindus ranked first, with 64 percent reporting full-time employment (Kosmin & Lachman, 1993). Con- versely, they finished second-to-last in home own- ership, with only 47 percent of respondents indi- cating they owned their own home. Significantly, Hindus were the most likely to live in homoge- neous households. Roughly 95 percent of Hindus in multiple adult households lived in settings in which all adults were of the same religioun. Value Conflicts In general, the extant research suggests that first- generation Hindu immigrants successfully accul- turate; that is, they maintain their own value sys- tem while negotiating with the host culture to appropriate values and norms useful for adapting to the latter (Dhruvarajan, 1993; Fenton, 1988; Williams, 1988). For instance, Dhruvarajan found that first-generation Hindus generally retain their belief in interdependence, ritual worship, and complementary family roles, regardless of how long they had lived in North America. Similarly, Williams (1988) found that 85 percent of Hindus {N= 224) had a home shrine, 80 percent per- formed morning puja each day, and almost 60 percent visited a temple weekly. Fenton and Ralston (1998) also documented majority partici- pation in home religious practices, although at somewhat lower rates than Williams. High levels of education and English fluency usually enable Hindus to master the outward me- chanics of cultural adaptation quickly and effi- ciently (Joy & Dholakia, 1991). Concurrently, the same decentralized fiexibility, manifested in the centrality of family as the seat of spiritual devo- tion that enabled Hinduism to survive repeated attempts at subjugation, facilitates a relatively smooth transition to a new cultural setting (Will- iams, 1997). However, in addition to the problems encoun- tered by other Americans, Hindus may experience Social Work/Volume 49, Number 1 /January 2004 32 a number of value-related stress points in the United States, particularly with their children (Joy & Dholakia, 1991). Whereas Indian culture sup- ports following one's dharma, the Western En- lightenment-derived values that permeate U.S. culture frequently mitigate against fulfilling one's dharma (Fenton, 1988; Fitzgerald, 1990). The same flexibility and lack of doctrinal insti- tutionalization that eases acculturation may also lead to assimilation or the complete adoption of the host culture. Although many U.S.-born youths affirm classic Hindu norms, such as ar- ranged marriages, modesty, and respect for others (Miller, 1995), in aggregate they may be more in- clined to assimilate than youths from other spiri- tual traditions, such as Islam, which have firmly institutionalized norms (Ghuman, 1997). Con- cern within the Hindu community that youths are in danger of losing their heritage has led to the establishment of summer camps, temple "Sunday schools," and other instructional activities de- signed to institutionalize, preserve, and transmit Hindu values that were implicitly institutionalized in India (Fenton, 1988; Miller, 1995; Ralston, 1998; Williams, 1988). These value conflicts have ramifications for the majority of social workers who have been raised and professionally trained in the dominant cul- ture. Indeed, fewer than 1 percent of social work- ers (N= 1,616) self-identify as Hindus (Canda & Furman, 1999). As Jafari (1993) noted, the En- lightenment-based discourse that serves to inform the Western counseling project enculturates a specific set of values and norms. For example, this meta-narrative tends to give precedence to certain values over others: individualism over community, egalitarian roles over complementary roles, and a material concept of reality over a spiritual concept of reality. Workers may tend to impose values drawn from their own meta-narra- tive on clients simply because they seem "nor- mal," "universal," or "right" within the context of the discourse in which they have been raised and educated. For example, Fenton (1988) found that the value most Hindus {N= 225) desired to preserve is family, which was ranked most important by more than 60 percent of respondents, roughly three times more often than any other single cul- tural value. However, the values associated with the Hindu construction of family conflict with those upheld by the dominant culture. Conse- quently, some individuals operating under West- ern Enlightenment concepts call the desire to have a son to perform the sacred rites owed to ances- tors a "prejudice" (Almeida, 1996, p. 403), whereas the sacred dharma that prescribes differ- ent roles for women and men is referred to an "ideology" that serves to "camouflage injustice" while deceiving women into desiring a position of "bondage" (Siegel et al., 1995, pp. 132-134). From the perspective of the Enlightenment- based meta-narrative, the desires of Hindu women cannot be trusted, because only Western discourse perceives reality accurately and is uni- versally true. Such academic literature does little to equip social workers to further the goals of Hindu clients who desire to retain their construc- tion of family, and it does not demonstrate re- spect for personal autonomy. As Reddy and Hanna (1998) stated, "it cannot be overempha- sized that enforcing or applying Western cultural values on these clients or stressing the typical view of Western individuality may result in confusion and further negative affect... [and] is also likely to have a negative impact on the integrity of the family system" (p. 393). Therefore, Hindus may be reluctant to receive services from social work- ers because of concerns that they will attempt to impose their Western Enlightenment-derived val- ues (Goodwin & Cramer, 1998). As Cornett (1992) noted, effective therapy is predicated on respecting client autonomy. Social workers must be aware that Hindus may not share many of their value assumptions and closely monitor their own reactions to ensure that they avoid imposing their own values on Hindu cli- ents. Starting from a nexus of interdependent family and a sacred epistemology, Hindus com- monly affirm chastity outside of marriage, limited dating and arranged marriages, heterosexuality, role distinctions for women and men, and mod- esty (Almeida, 1996; Fenton, 1988; Juthani, 1998; Miller, 1995; Williams, 1988). So practitioners who affirm the "normality" of constructs such as sexual fulfillment at all life stages, dating, homo- sexuality, and egalitarianism must be especially vigilant to ensure that they respect the autonomy of Hindu clients. Practice Implications It is important to again note the diversity that oc- curs among self-identified Hindus. Although a general trend exists between time spent in the Hodge / Working witii Hindu Clients in a Spirituaiiy Sensitive Manner 33 United States and assimilation into the main- stream culture, first-generation Hindus may be as secularized and individualist as other Americans (Fenton, 1988). Conversely, second- and third- generation Hindus may strongly affirm classic Hindu values (Miller, 1995). Moksha, may be a motivating factor for some and not others. Thus, the following suggestions are meant to expand workers' consciousness regarding the possibilities that may have salience among Hindu consumers, rather than to provide practitioners with set pat- terns of interaction. School social workers and family practitioners in particular may wish to make note of the variation that can occur between generations. With this caution in mind, and as implied throughout this article, the psy- chological makeup of many ^ ^ ^ Hindus is modally different from westerners. Because of the Hindu emphasis on selfiessness, detachment, and a dharma-ori- ented epistemology, some Hin- dus may appear to have an "un- derdeveloped ego" from a psychodynamic perspective (Roland, 1997).Inotherwords, in certain cases they may lack ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ the independent, self-reliant, self-directing ego of Western individualism. Thus, as Roland noted, some Hin- dus can appear to exhibit vague boundaries be- tween self and others and demonstrate a weak conscience or superego, because Hindus often follow the highly contextualized emotional cues and values of others rather than the imperatives of Western individualism. Cultural sensitivity is demonstrated by recog- nizing that Western Enlightenment-derived theo- ries are not universally applicable, and corre- spondingly, adapting clinical strategies to comply with the psychological and value orientation of the Hindu cosmology (Roland, 1997). For ex- ample, Balodhi (1996) suggested that Hindu con- sumers may make extensive use of religious my- thology to communicate underlying problems. By using nondirect communication styles, consumers are able to share their own story while safeguard- ing the emotional space of the community's other members. Therefore, workers should incorporate a similar sensitivity regarding the direct commu- nication of emotions into their questions and re- Balodhi suggested that Hindu consumers may make extensive use of religious mythology to communicate underlying problems. sponses to conform to the implicit value of re- spect for the emotional well-being of others. Supportive direct questioning combined with empathetic listening skills are appropriate means for exploration of presenting problems and allevi- ating concerns Hindus may have over possible value confiicts (Juthani, 1998). As implied earlier, straightforward self-revelation of personal experi- ence and emotional trials may not occur, because such practices are often deemed to be too self- focused (Almeida, 1996). A carefully nuanced di- rect approach may be beneficial when combined with a sensitivity to the use of metaphor and story to communicate underlying problems. A direct approach can be effective in the sense that Hindus may perceive the structure of the counseling rela- tionship to be ordered so that ^ ^ ^ ^ workers are responsible for taking initiative, or demon- strating leadership, in ad- dressing pertinent issues (Juthani). In keeping with the cen- trality of the family unit, in- volving all family members in the therapeutic dialogue is usually advisable (Juthani, ^ ^ ^ ^ 1998). Individual goals are acceptable insofar as they do not subordinate the collective ethos (Joy & Dholakia, 1991). Thus, interventions that balance autonomy and interdependence are likely to be well received (Reddy & Hanna, 1998). The family unit can also be a significant source of social support. Extended family members may be aware of cultural resources, such as a local Hindu youth group, a childcare service, or a devo- tional worship group, that can be marshaled to ameUorate problems (Juthani, 1998). In light of the recent growth in Hindu organizations and programs, new immigrants and even those who are well-established may not be aware of the avail- able options. A genogram covering at least three generations can be especially helpful in identifying significant family members. Showing deference to the husband as the key decision maker by addressing him first, for ex- ample, communicates respect for the family unit as a whole as well as for the dharma (Reddy & Hanna, 1998). Similarly, direct eye contact with older family members may be perceived as being disrespectful (Almeida, 1996). Caste may be a Social Work / Volume 49, Number 1 /January 2004 34 significant factor in socialization, family func- tions, and the selection of marriage partners re- gardless of the degree of parental involvement (Fenton, 1988; Williams, 1988). The construct of adolescence, at least in the Western sense, does not exist in classical Hindu- ism. Therefore, it is advisable to inform the par- ents of the difficulties youths in the United States typically encounter while supporting the decisions of the family unit. Thus, for example, instead of taking a position in support of an adolescent's struggle for fi-eedom and independence, it is usu- ally more profitable to seek a solution v^dthin the context of the family's framework of autonomy and interconnectedness (Almeida, 1996). Group interventions would seem to harmo- nize well with a Hindu cosmology. However, it is important that group-based programs be congru- ent with Hindus' belief in other-centeredness. For example, 12-step programs are considered to be to self-centered, as well as lacking any avenue for family involvement (Almeida, 1996). In short, group dynamics should be adjusted to be compat- ible with Hindu norms. Tapping into spiritual strengths can help ame- liorate problems and sends the message that the consumer's culture has relevance in addressing life challenges. Using spiritual resources may be particularly efficacious because the religious devo- tion of Hindu immigrants may increase in the United States (WiUiams, 1998). Taking a spiritual history may be an appropri- ate means of understanding the spiritual capabili- ties and experiences that have been developed over time and inform the consumer's spiritual universe (Hodge, 2001). Alternatively, Hodge (2000) has developed a spiritual eco-map to iden- tify and operationalize spiritual strengths that ex- ist in consumers' environment. This diagram- matic instrument can be used to visually depict the salience of spiritual assets, including those dis- cussed in this article, all of which should generally be incorporated into any assessment procedure. Finally, because all spheres of Hindu life are con- sidered to be religious, it may be helpful to em- phasize the strategies of moksha. Hinduism is a religious tradition rich in ritual, the most prominent being daily puja. Rituals, such as puja, re-enact the individual's relationship with the Absolute, reinforcing the participant's connection with the Divine (Jacobs, 1992). In turn, these practices can serve to ease anxiety and dread, defeat loneliness, promote a sense of secu- rity, and establish a sense of being loved and ap- preciated (Levin, 1994). Rituals have been associ- ated with a wide array of positive outcomes (Levin; Worthington, Kurusu, McCuUough, 8c Sandage, 1996), including resilience and coping (Pargament, 1997). Workers can encourage cli- ents to further operationalize these strengths by, for example, replacing maladaptive behavior with ritualistic behavior, increasing the frequency of rituals perceived to engender positive outcomes, and reinforcing the salubrious messages rituals implicitly transmit (Hodge, 2000,2001). Although many rituals can be conducted by lay people, workers should be aware that many of the more personally significant rituals (for example, life cycle rituals) require brahmans (Hertel, 1998). Because brahman priests are not a preferred im- migration category in the eyes of immigration of- ficials, there is a substantial shortage of qualified individuals to perform certain rituals. Thus, there may be structural barriers to carrying out certain rituals. Another ritual that may be particularly impor- tant is Hindu meditation, which has been linked with salutary outcomes in diverse areas. Reviews indicate that meditation has been used to amelio- rate various problems, including depression, hy- pertension, type A coronary-prone behavior, stuttering, and substance abuse (Keefe, 1996; Singh, 1992). Thus, meditation techniques, drawn from the way of illumination, may be an effective intervention. Singh (1992) suggested that biofeedback techniques and auto-genic training may be inter- ventions that are congruent with both Hindu and Western worldviews. Similarly, Sheikh, Kunzendorf, and Sheikh (1996) reported that vi- sualization and imagery can be effective interven- tions. Therapeutically meaningful images can be drawn from the rich Hindu pantheon of religious imagery. Pilgrimages to festivals, events that bear some similarity to religious revivals, and prominent temples, both in the United States and in India, can be a significant intervention, fostering reflec- tion on the ultimate aims of life, a reordering of priorities, and social support. Many Hindus who participate in such endeavors refer to them as "once in a lifetime" experiences (Williams, 1988). Rangaswami (1994) suggested that facilitating Hindus' desire to seek moksha can have positive Hodge / Working with Hindu Clients in a Spiritually Sensitive Manner 35 benefits. The spiritual pursuit can foster motiva- tion and enhanced purpose in life while diminish- ing the scope of current problems. Workers should also be aware of Ayurvedic treatment, which has official status as an indig- enous health care system in India and Nepal (Jilek, 1994) and is widely used to overcome problems. Derived from the Vedas, Ayurvedic therapy aims at correcting imbalances and restor- ing equilibrium by replacing negative emotions with positive ones, for example (Crawford, 1989). Finally, demons, which are addressed in Ayurvedic treatment, are real beings in the Hindu cosmology and consequently, are not necessarily a sign of psychosis. Conclusion This article attempts to facilitate cultural sensi- tivity by acquainting social work practitioners with Hindu cosmology so that social work prac- tice can be harmonized with the dharma. Not only will valuable therapeutic resources lie dor- mant if workers are unfamiliar with the Hindu cosmology, but harm may occur because of a lack of knowledge. Effective practice with consumers from various religious traditions is dependent on achieving a measure of cultural competence re- garding their traditions. Finally, as a further step, workers who regularly encounter Hindu clients may wish to read Seplowin's (1992) article on karma therapy as well as Singh's (1992) article on integrating concepts from Eastern psychology and spirituality into treatment. • References Almeida, R. (1996). Hindu, Christian and Muslim families. In M. McGoldrick, ]. Giordano, 8c J. K. Pearce (Eds.), Ethnicity and family therapy (pp. 395- 423). New York: Guilford Press. Balodhi, J. P. (1996). 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New York: Cambridge Univer- sity Press. Williams, R. B. ( 1997). South Asian religions in the United States. In J. R. Hinnells (Ed.), A new hand- book of living religions (pp. 796-818). New York: Penguin Books. Williams, R. B. (1998). Asian Indian and Pakistani reli- gions in the United States. In A. W. Heston (Ed.), The annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Sciences {Vol. 558, pp. 178-195). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Worthington, E. J., Kurusu, T., McCuUough, M., 8c Sandage, S. (1996). Empirical research on religion and psychotherapeutic processes and outcomes: A 10-year review and research prospectus. Psychologi- cal Bulletin, i i 9 , 448-487. David R. Hodge, MSW, MCS, is a postdoctoral fel- low. Program for Research on Religion and Urban Civil Society, University of Pennsylvania, Leader- ship Hall, 3814 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA 19104; e-mail: dhodge@sas.upenn.edu. The author thanks Swapna Kommidi, Uma Murugan, and Pratima Pandeyfor their comments and encourage- ment regarding this article. Original manuscript received December 2, 1999 Final revision received May 1, 2000 Accepted June 22, 2000 THE CENTER FOR THE STUDY OF SOCIAL WORK PRACTICE announces the recipients of SOCIAL WORK RESEARCH FELLOWSHIPS, 2003-04 Jacqueline Corcoran Virginia Commonwealth University Richard Embry and Aron Shlonsky Columbia University David Zanis University of Maryland The Center for the Study of Social Work Practice is a joint program of the Columbia Uni- versity School of Social Work and the Jevnsh Board of Family and Children's Services. The Center's competitively-awarded Social Work Research Fellowships seek to strengthen so- cial work practice through significant advances in evidence-based research. Social Worlc/ Volume 49, Number ] /January 2004 38 
work_nussodzalbflnasqhr7ezwhy5e	----	EJELS Janar 2018 .indd European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 141 Aesthetic subject formation in high schools Dr. Hajri Mandri “Albanian University”, Tirana, Albania Abstract Philosophy of aesthetic education in gymnasiums permeates the whole syllabus structure. This subject integration in the high school syllabus as a philosophy of the aesthetic education of the youngsters does not constitute a separate module but multiple functions. This paper aims at providing a view of the enrichment of the inner spiritual world of the gymnasiums people through the learning and cultural activities. This paper offers an theoretical and illustrative explanation of how the school influences in development of new aesthetic competences, the capacity to experience, imagine, interpret and taste the aesthetic components that are created as a result of educational and cultural environment. In this study we arrive at the conclusion that in order to be a dignified and noble citizen the aesthetic feelings have to be consciously enriched and the aesthetic ideals have to be managed as a pleasure given by life and society, by transforming them into positive and fruitful energy. Keywords: aesthetic subject, formation, High Schools. Introduction Aesthetic education is a long-standing requirement of human society. Plato, when talking about the relationship between the individual and the recognition he faces in life, thinks that negative characters, criminal acts in literature indirectly, make an invitation to imitate. With the development of culture and art, the institution of censorship, exclusion and permission of literary works began to function according to certain moral, aesthetic, political or philosophical criteria. In postmodern societies, currently in the democratic system that constitutes a plurality of circulation and consumption of aesthetic values, we face new concepts related to aesthetic education in school. The aesthetic education of the student is realized parallel on two planes; the first and most important one is the school where there is a high concentration of absorption of aesthetic ideals that shape the taste 1 and increase the degree of perception and aesthetic acquisition, and the second is the extracurricular factor, the very life that affects many sources of cultural information. In this article we will elaborate only on the problem of forming the aesthetic ideal through the curriculum and the cultural activities organized by the school. 1 F. Nietzsche says:”I have a taste but no basis, no norm and no imperative for this taste. (Alfred Uci, Aesthetics, Vol. I, pp.200, Tirana 1986.) Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 142 Integration into the syllabys Through the subject of literature, philosophy, art history, etc., pupils achieve complete theoretical formation, as they are acquainted with concepts which in the theory of aesthetics constitute a trinity: the truth, the good, and the beautiful. 2 Literary works in the aesthetic viewpoint are included in the idea-sense arts. In this context, when we say “a beautiful painting,” it sounds more convincing than “a beautiful novel,” we can say, “a great novel, a good novel, likeable novel.” Usually the term “beautiful” is used as a synonym of aesthetic values. The concept “this poem, or story has aesthetic value” means explicitly that we like them or they give us pleasure when we read them. The aesthetic values remain relative; they are effective in relation to the social environment, the level of individual or collective taste, and as long as they provide aesthetic satisfaction. The prominent German philosopher and aesthetics A.G.Baumgarten says that “the being itself is beautiful when it stands out, excels, shines, illuminates or is proportionate, harmonious, structured.” In conformity with these criteria, we intuitively get surprised and feel the pleasure that the beautiful in art or industrial design and the architectural structure of the environment where we live gives us. Human society invests in creating works of aesthetic value as a precious asset of the spiritual life. Aesthetic experience of life in the most intensive way is the supreme goal of humans. Aesthetic values are not perfect; they remain values among other values of life. Aesthetic and moral values interact and create an interactional attitude, as an intertwined stance between two values. Therefore, teachers are aware of a complementary education of the student’s personality. Specifically, teacher of the subject of literature in high schools consider the role played by literature as a subject to enrich the aesthetic imagination. Due to the extraordinary effect that the literary material has to incite the imagination, let’s illustrate it with a quote from Shell’essay: “Imagination is the great instrument of moral goodness and poetry plays this role by acting on the causes, thus it is usually said that through great literature we feel ourselves transfigured beyond the limits of our common life, in a world of deeper and more profound thoughts and feelings than the world in which we live. Through great literature we may experience events, thoughts and feelings of people who are far from us in time and space.” In this case, we have a comprehensive match of the subject’s goal and goal of the curricula in realising the new aesthetic ideal for the student who through the world’s and Albanian literature masterpieces reveals the common human nature existing in all people behind the façade of doctrines who divide us, and by this way we can bring humankind together much better than the doctrines themselves. Literature ennobles the students, by creating characters with an analytical capacity and expels them from brutal criminal instincts, rampant passions and acts that deform their moral, social, and aesthetic integrity. In the literary analysis of fiction works, the teacher has the chance to enrich and configure a variety of images, ideas, and stir the imagination and aesthetic imagery, by making the lesson very attractive 2 According to Aristotle, main forms of the beautiful are the order, symmetry and accuracy, elements that math sciences pose in a special level” (Osvald Hanfling, “The philosophical aesthetics”, Publishing House “Camaj- Pipa”. pp. 13, Shkodër, Albania, 1999.) European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 143 and interesting, by creating a dialogue and debate with theses that are elaborated in details (explicitly) and indirectly (implicitly). The role of the teacher in this case is very important in explaining the meaning of the text and the interpretative moderation by making even the pupils themselves participatory. 3 In Flober’s novel “Madame Bovari” we have an excellent example of deforming the individual because of the impact of a sentimental education school, where the romantic ideal moves away the beautiful girl from the real world and motivates her toward realistic, unrealizable spaces in life, that turn a human into heremit, away from the real world of happiness that derives from work and the constant effort of man to be perfected in life. Ideals and esthetic ideas If we view the issue of education in the aesthetic aspect, without mentioning the moral education, which has a very broad definition, we must stick to the education of the motive as an aesthetic ideal and the education of feelings as a reflection of aesthetic acquisition deriving from aesthetic object or aesthetic action. In this framework, we will elaborate upon two variants: the education of the ideas, motives, interpretative skills of the students that constitute the aesthetic ideal and the positive feelings that cause the aesthetic phenomena, such as the category of beauty, which is found more emphasised in the subjects of literature, history art, artistic activities in the school, such as reciters’ competitions, dance and song concerts, various dances, where the pupil becomes an object as well as an aesthetic subject. The more the high school student is an active participant in an artistic environment, the more effect he has on enriching his feelings. When experiencing the literary works of art, the pupils experience aesthetic pleasure. In the case when reciting one does not pay attention to intonation, artistic logic, verse cadence, tonic emphasis, internal rhythm, logical reasoning, insight on motivs and ideas, the performance action does not give aesthetic pleasure and we say we had a weak interpretation. In this case, the relationship between the aesthetic object and the aesthetic subject does not function, the reception is ineffective, the feeling-sensory emotional relationships and the rational elements do not realize a positive aesthetic component. The teacher interferes when the pupil reads poorly a poem juts because this relations are not proportionate. Literature as a subject needs an emotional experience. This is not accomplished artificially or because we put it as a task in a classroom, but it comes naturally intuitively (intuition as is known is the actual illumination of feelings and thought). In this regard, the teacher as a leader of the process of developing analysis and commentary promotes axiological (appreciative) catalysts of aesthetic acquisition by directing students to the social-aesthetic ideal. The idea that comes out during the comment naturally constitutes a meaning that prepares the social-aesthetic ideal. But what is the ideal idea in itself? The ideal is the ability of the human to project himself in the future, to include him/her in structures, relationships and possible phenomena, in accordance with his intentions, desires and aspirations that are conditioned by the reality that has it. In the theoretical view, the aesthetic ideal is the dominant one that 3 Everything Shakespeare says for the king, that boy who reads there in the corner, it seems he is saying for himself. Ralph Waldo Emerson: Esse. Plejad Publishing House, 2002, pp 14.Tirana 2002. Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 144 organizes the aesthetic conscience of each epoch in a given society, as an imagination of a possible reality. Ideas are elaborated, there is no eternal ideal, pan-human. The anti-entropic goal, the goal towards excellence, is the objective basis of the aesthetic ideal. Esthetic vision in social subjects In other social subjects such as history, knowledge on society or sociology, during the lesson we come to such conclusions of such learning that implie our motivation and our need and need of the whole of society, to move towards a higher form of social organization, towards the perfection of social harmony, and relationships between society and the individual (i.e the democratic ideal as the highest social order requiring constant perfection), we have succeeded in realizing within these ideas the aesthetic ideal that has stirred the aesthetic imagination, aesthetic imagery and inspires motivation to the pupil. In analyzing a drama through the clash of characters, while seeking to achieve the ethical ideal, as moral perfection, we realize the aesthetic ideal through structural modeling that helps cleanse and enrich the feelings. When attending a play in the theatre, we experience beautiful feelings, sad feelings, pain, joy, pride, and hatred caused by acts and protagonists, and the solution itself leads us to the modeling of the aesthetic ideal that is formed in our conscience. Practical cultural activities When pupils are organised to go to a disco, we realize aesthetic education through beautiful feelings, experiencing a joyous emotional state that is accomplished by many components, while music is the first one together with other stage effects. Music in this case is not just an acoustic-physical vibration, but it is a spirit, an organized sound that is perceived by the ear, but it has an eimpact with this substance to the pupil’s conscience, enriching the taste and creating aesthetic pleasure. In these activities, schools should pay attention not to expose them to elements not appropriate for their school age such as pop art and pornographic literature which seeks to use physiological elements to create aesthetic pleasure, because they affect the formation of the aesthetic ideal that is aimed by the school program. Does the teacher serve a model for students?. We know that humans by nature are inclined to like imitation. In this case the teacher enjoys a special status, he should educate the pupil with his attitude, conduct, manners, appearance, relationships with external factors that may affect them. Plato says beauty emerges not only in the first things heard, but also in the good character and good behavior, as parameters of the aesthetic system, which deive from feelings of sympathy or hatred, satisfaction, or dissatisfaction. In order to make the school an environment that aesthetically pleases pupils, which means, the sense of beauty must satisfy the requirements of modern contemporary aesthetics, must awaken interest, spirituality, fulfilling the parameters of perfection and completeness, harmony between parts, structure, behavioral psychology, and judgment, order, discipline, excellence of form, premises, atmosphere, attire etc. which constitute the educational micro-environment. European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 145 It is important that the aesthetic idea in school is considered among the core principles of the school’s directorate. 4 For example, the aesthetic ideal can be considered the affirmation and consolidation among pupils of the idea that attendance of high school implies attendance of higher education to qualify further in a specific field. Settig this personal objective for the pupil develops his imagination and fantasy and draws them toward an ideal projected as a beautiful dream that motivates them to success. This is related to the progress of the school, the personal performance, the pupil’s daily preparation, but also to the motivation of the teachers, the behavior and the teaching-learning activity that the school develops. Based on the theory of aesthetic taste, humans have an inner sense of aesthetic acquisition. The use of computers, information from internet, media, encyclopedias, cultural programs, create an appropriate blend of uniformity with the variety and create the sense of today’s modern beauty which is controlled by the inner sense of pupils, which according to British scholar Hatchetson was named “the sense of beauty.” Aesthetic education is an integral part of today’s modern school philosophy. Theoretical and cultural formation of students in high schools should be achieved through clear goals and measurable objectives. An aesthetic deductive and transcendental judgment is also found in the teaching of subjects of natural sciences. When we are talking about something indefinite (celestial space, lines, infinity of matter, natural phenomena, etc.), then our imagination surrenders because we are not able to master the whole phenomenon, thus by becoming aware of the supremacy of the reason, we are aided by the imagination of the the magnificient as an aesthetic category. When we explain the causes of a catastrophe that goes beyond human ability to cope we reflect on reasoning and being aware of our dignity as moral beings. In this case we have to do with the aesthetic category of tragedy in life. The subject information in school directly affects the development and enrichment of the imagination of the students The more developed the imagination of a pupil is, the more qualitative he/she is in the acquisition of knowledge. Imagination according to Colridge, is the joining capability that analyses the data, transforms them and the outcome is a new quality. Conclusions Through the aesthetic education in school, we realize a powerful component in the overall formation of the pupil’s personality as a worthy citizen of a cultured and democratized society, by distancing him/her form intuitive interpretations that typically lead to individuals with an inadequate level of education. Aesthetic education in school is not a doctrine, 5 it is the whole and the educational essence of the curriculum, in accordance with the tradition, the culture and the psycho-moral reality of our people. Freedom of judgment and aesthetic thought is related to the acceptance of cultural diversity, the coexistence of aesthetic concepts, the elaboration of unique and common tastes, the convergence and cultural divergence as the basis of the philosophy of our democratic system. 4 During our life, we are accompanied everywhere bu spiritual factors and one good intention is awaiting us. Emerson Esse. Ibid ,pp. 58. 5 We sympathise the most magnificent moments of history, great discoveries, great resistances, for the great progress of the man. Emerson “Esse”, ibid, pp.14. Vol. 2 No. 1 January, 2018 European Journal of Economics, Law and Social Sciences IIPCCL Publishing, Graz-Austria ISSN 2519-1284 Acces online at www.iipccl.org 146 References Alfred Uci, Estetika. Vëll. I, Tiranë 1986. Osvald Hanfling, “Philophosical Aesthetics (Estetika filozofike),“Camaj-Pipa”Publishing House, Shkodër, Albania 1999. Ralph Waldo Emerson: Esse. Plejad Publishing House, Tirana, 2002. 
work_o3jfe6tysra7tdokgty5pghgda	----	People in Political Science scientists from smaller colleges to- gether with colleagues from the large research universities so that both could refresh their knowledge of current research findings and give and receive tips about effec- tive teaching. Since that initial foray into educational improve- ment, the Association, under the leadership of Sheilah Mann, has developed an extraordinarily rich array of education programs, funded by private foundations and public agencies, designed to im- prove the quality of teaching and learning at all levels from K-12 to undergraduate, graduate, and con- tinuing professional education. Kirk also secured a number of grants to support other Association activities. For example, he negoti- ated a large multiyear grant from the Ford Foundation to support one of the Association's most suc- cessful ventures, the Congressional Fellowship Program. Years later, under Cathy Rudder's leadership, the Association received a large grant from MCI for a permanent endowment of the program. During Kirk's tenure the Associ- ation also won grants to fund such activities as the orientation pro- grams for newly elected members of Congress, seminars for leaders of state legislatures, selection of journalists for excellence in politi- cal reporting and bringing them to- gether in summer seminars with leading political scientists. Other grants won by the Association un- der Kirk's leadership funded for- eign political scientists' travel to and participation in APSA's annual meetings. When Kirk took office, the Na- tional Science Foundation's pro- gram of fellowships and grants for the social and behavioral sciences did not include political science. Kirk, with the help of many politi- cal scientists and members of Con- gress who had benefited from the Congressional Fellowship Program, persuaded NSF to include political science. Consequently, since 1960, doctoral candidates in political sci- ence have received NSF grants for dissertation research, political sci- ence faculty members have re- ceived NSF research grants, and several multi-institutional grants have been made, notably for the establishment and continuing sup- port of the National Election Studies. His experience with NSF prompted Kirk to have regular con- sultations with his counterparts in the national offices of other social science associations, and after sev- eral years of informal consultation the associations joined in establish- ing the Consortium of Social Sci- ence Associations (COSSA), which has since played a major role in advocating continued federal sup- port for teaching and research in the social sciences. Thus, Kirk had remarkable suc- cess in his many efforts to improve the quality, support, and public vis- ibility and reputation of political science. No small part of his suc- cess came from the able and expe- rienced staff he recruited for the national office. His style as an ad- ministrator was to choose good people, give them full responsibility for their assignments, refrain from peering over their shoulders when they were carrying out those as- signments, and give them full psy- chological and logistical support. Walter Beach, Mark Ferber, Mae King, Sheilah Mann, Tom Mann, Nancy Ranney, John Stewart, and Maurice Woodard, among others, found working for him profession- ally enriching and personally re- warding. They and other staff mem- bers speak warmly of their loyalty and affection for him. Indeed, it is widely said that under Kirk's lead- ership the APSA national office be- came a model for its counterparts in other disciplines, several of have which adapted Kirk's policies for the reorganization of their own of- fices and operations. One of the sources for Kirk's great success as Executive Director was his experience and success as a teacher. During his service at the University of Minnesota (1935- 1948), Kirk inspired a number of talented students not only to study political science but also to take an active part in politics. The best- known of these students was Hu- bert Humphrey, who often called on Kirk for counsel and support throughout his long and distin- guished career. The list of Kirk's Minnesota students also includes such eminent public figures as Or- ville Freeman, Max Kampelman, Arthur Naftalin, Richard Scammon, Elmer Staats, and Eric Sevareid, and such eminent academics as Herbert McClosky and Howard Penniman. Many other political sci- entists who never took a course from Kirk nevertheless regard themselves as his students as well as his friends—a group that cer- tainly includes Heinz Eulau, Tom Mann, Warren Miller, Nelson Polsby, Jack Peltason, and Austin Ranney. So every political scientist should remember Kirk's great contribu- tions to our Association and profes- sion. Those of us who were fortu- nate to know him personally will also remember Kirk's rich human qualities: his love of good food (es- pecially provencal), good wine (any burgundy), good football teams (the Redskins), and good books (any- thing by Karl Popper and Harold Lasswell, but especially Popper's The Open Society and Its Enemies). We will also remember his unflap- pable disposition through many dis- ciplinary disputes and organiza- tional crises (it helped, someone once observed, that he was deaf in one ear). Perhaps most of all, we will remember how generously he gave us good counsel, warm friend- ship, and unfailing support. In his essay On Self-Reliance, Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man." Of no institution or man is that more true than of the American Political Science Associ- ation and Kirk. Much of what is good about teaching and research in political science and satisfying in the careers of political scientists is Kirk's legacy to us. We will never forget him. Austin Ranney University of California, Berkeley James D. Cochrane James D. Cochrane was born in 1938 in Cherokee, Iowa. He died on March 23, 1995, in New Orleans, after a long illness. He received his B.A. degree at Morningside Col- lege, in Sioux City, and his M.A. 544 PS: Political Science & Politics In Memoriam and Ph.D. at the University of Iowa, where he was a student of Vernon Van Dyke. Jim came to Tulane in 1966, after a year as Fellow at the Brookings Institution and another year at Western Michigan University. He was promoted to associate profes- sor in 1968, and to professor in 1974. He published extensively, partic- ularly in his main fields of Latin American international relations . and economic relations. A mono- graph, The Politics of Regional In- tegration: the Central American Case, appeared in 1969. He was co-author of Political Culture and Foreign Policy in Latin America, a book published in 1991. He wrote more than fifty articles, for such journals as the Latin American Re- search Review, the Journal of Latin American Studies, Interna- tional Organization, the Journal of Common Market Studies, and Cur- rent History. Some of his work was in Spanish, for Latin American publications. In spite of his poor health in recent years, he main- tained his writing and research. At the time of his death, two articles were under submission. Particularly in his earlier years, Jim was active in academic gover- nance. In the political science de- partment he served on many com- mittees, as the undergraduate and graduate advisor, and as acting chair. In the (then) College of Arts & Sciences he was elected to the Executive Committee, the Promo- tions and Tenure committee, the Grievance Committee, the Curricu- lum Committee, and a Constitution Revision Committee. At the Uni- versity level, he served many years on the Student Conduct Commit- tee. He was appointed JYA Profes- sor-in-Charge in London during 1972-73. Jim was a popular and effective teacher of both undergraduates and graduate students. He supervised numerous honors essays and M.A. theses, and more Ph.D. disserta- tions than any other person in the department. Foreign students, par- ticularly, often expressed their grat- itude for his intense concern for their academic progress and for his readiness to spend long hours on the supervision of their writings. Those of us who knew Jim dur- ing his many years at Tulane will remember him as a good colleague and a fine academician. Henry L. Mason Tulane University Lewis Anthony Dexter Lewis Anthony Dexter died March 28, 1995, at Durham, N.C., overtaken by illness while in the midst of new projects. Few social scientists have made telling impacts on so many different topics. Dexter is widely known among political scientists as co-author, with the late Raymond Bauer and the late Ithiel de Sola Pool, of American Business and Public Policy, which won the Woodrow Wilson Award in 1963. He employed for the book his special skill and tact as an inter- viewer of political leaders, tech- niques described in his Elite and Specialized Interviewing (1970); and he contributed to it his special knowledge of the ways in which Congressmen allocate their time among constituents, interest groups and others. Dexter's intimate knowledge of these matters figured again in How Organizations are Represented in Washington (1969) and The Sociol- ogy and Politics of Congress (1969). He published several nota- ble articles on local politics and a small book on politics in Water- town, Massachusetts (1981). But, he was also a pioneer in the study of the media, co-editing, with David Manning White, People, So- ciety and Mass Communications (1964), and a pioneer, too, in the sociology of mental retardation, producing his highly original Tyr- anny of Schooling: an Inquiry into the Problem of Stupidity (1964). This research record, enlarged by a host of perceptive and innovating articles on other topics that led Nelson Polsby to describe him as "one of the eight 'exemplary' so- cial scientists of the last two gener- ations," would normally have im- plied long tenure for Dexter in a peak academic post. However, as one friend (David Riesman) has said of him, he was as "careless of his great talents" as he was of his material possessions—he had no use for excess baggage. He did not maintain a permanent home any- where, although he had ample means to do so. His kit of clothes and personal effects was one that a graduate student would have found too scant and informal. He moved, almost throughout his career, from one university to another, as a self- described "itinerant visiting profes- sor," at Hobart, the University of Florida, MIT, Harvard, Dalhousie, Brock and Guelph Universities in Canada, Berkeley, Johns Hopkins, and the University of Massachu- setts at Boston, among other insti- tutions. In 1972, he temporarily gave up his itinerant status to be- come a tenured Professor of Politi- cal Science at the University of Maryland in Baltimore, a position he retained for a decade before re- suming his travels. His path was not random or un- principled. He taught at Talledega long before teaching at black col- leges was a common liberal activ- ity; he taught at Howard. Working for the Federal Government in Washington at the time of Pearl Harbor, he recruited Riesman to try to prevent the expulsion of Jap- anese-Americans from the West Coast. Often his strong principles, and undiplomatic tactics that belied both his political sophistication and his admiration for Lord Halifax, ("The Character of a Trimmer") brought him into conflict with cam- pus authorities and accounted for some of his mobility. In academic crises, the tact he showed as an interviewer often gave way to his fierce sympathetic interest in causes and people he saw as under- privileged. His principles included loyalty to friends and disinterested (and sometimes surprising) ideas about how universities should be run. The principles also were evident in his teaching: he gave enthusiastic encouragement to undergraduates with educationally limited back- grounds. He was as utterly without snobbery as he was without defer- ence to power. Dexter was born November 9, September 1995 545 
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work_oevfjdwpzveyrllcysuh7vnsri	----	80 1. PENDAHULUAN Pendidikan pemakai sebagai suatu kegiatan yang dilakukan oleh para pustakawan telah berkembang dan dikenal diberbagai perpustakaan. Pendidikan pemakai sebagai suatu gejala di perpustakaan mulai tumbuh dan berkembang sekitar tahun 1960an dan 1970an yang banyak dipengaruhi oleh perubahan sosial yang melingkupinya. Dan pada saat itulah pustakawan telah mengajar dan mempresentasikan lokakarya dan konferensi, menulis artikel-artikel majalah dan mengadakan survey serta memberikan pendidikan berkelanjutan dalam instruksi bibliografi. Kemajuan teknologi digital seperti komputer, telekomunikasi, internet dan world wide web sangat berpotensi untuk meningkatkan pelayanan perpustakaan perguruan tinggi terhadap pemakainya. Kecanggihan teknologi URGENSI PENDIDIKAN PEMAKAI (USER EDUCATION) BAGI PEMUSTAKA DI PERPUSTAKAAN PERGURUAN TINGGI AGAMA ISLAM: SEBUAH KONSEP PENERAPAN KAMPUS PERADABAN DI UIN ALAUDDIN MAKASSAR Hildawati Almah* Pengutipan: Hildawati, A. (2014). Urgensi pendidikan pemakai (user education) bagi pemustaka di perpustakaan perguruan tinggi agama Islam: sebuah konsep penerapan kampus peradaban di UIN Alauddin Makassar. Jurnal Ilmu Perpustakaan & Kearsipan Khizanah Al-Hikmah, Vol. 2 No. 1, hlm. 80-89.  Dosen Jurusan Ilmu Perpustakaan UIN Alauddin Makassar Email: hildaalmah@yahoo.com ABSTRAK User education activities are expected to be held in any type of library, especially at the college library (including UIN and IAIN). Due to the presence of user education teaching can improve the function of libraries and librarians in supporting programs of Tri Dharma University institution. On the other hand, the basic for the importance of library user education is also intended for library users and the entire academic community (especially new students) to prepare them to be able to explore their skill in the necessary resources and use them for education. The ability to search and to access to this information will be very useful for students to develop a career of life inside and outside the campus then. Library and their existences especially in higher education institutions to university of Islam is a civilization buffer, the library is a place of pluralities of complex thinking of the dialectical process of creative thinkers who read the reality of plural. To answer the challenges of the constantly changing life, the land will be fertile earth to foster plurality, if the library maintained its role in education is to educate the nation and as a pillar of civilization that honors independent thinking. KATA KUNCI: Pendidikan pemakai, Perpustakaan perguruan tinggi 81 informasi yang telah diterapkan pada beberapa perpustakaan perguruan tinggi telah terbukti mampu memberikan layanan yang lebih baik kepada pemakainya. Namun demikian beragam sumber informasi baik yang tercetak ataupun yang non cetak tersebut ternyata telah memunculkan beberapa keprihatinan lain bahwa pemakai perpustakaan di perguruan tinggi terjebak dengan banjirnya informasi yang mereka hadapi di era dimana pemakai dapat menggunakan ujung jarinya untuk mencari, mengklik, meng-copy paste informasi yang dibutuhkan, pemakai harus lebih jeli untuk mendapatkan informasi secara efesien dan efektif. Mereka juga harus mempunyai keterampilan yang tidak hanya terbatas pada keterampilan mendapatkan informasi yang dibutuhkan tetapi juga dapat mengevaluasi dan menganalisa informasi secara kritis. Perpustakaan perguruan tinggi merupakan perpustakaan yang terdapat pada perguruan tinggi, badan bawahannya, maupun lembaga yang berafiliasi dengan perguruan tinggi, dengan tujuan utama membantu perguruan tinggi yang bersangkutan mencapai tujuannya, yang dikenal dengan Tri Dharma Perguruan Tinggi (pendidikan, penelitian dan pengabdian masyarakat) (Sulistyo-Basuki, 1991). Untuk itu, tugas utama perpustakaan adalah menghimpun bahan pustaka baik yang berbentuk tercetak (printed materials) maupun dalam bentuk tidak tercetak (non-printed materials), mengolahnya, dan menyajikannya untuk dapat dimanfaatkan oleh masyarakat pemakainya melalui berbagai jenis jasa layanan yang disediakan oleh perpustakaan. Para pemustaka perpustakaan berhak mendapatkan pelayanan yang baik, cepat dan efesien serta berhak menggunakan seluruh fasilitas dan sumber informasi yang ada dalam mendapatkan dan menelusur informasi yang dibutuhkan untuk kepentingan studi, penelitian dan pengembangan wawasannya. Namun disisi lain disadari atau tidak bahwa para pemakai jasa perpustakaan tersebut, terutama mahasiswa baru tidak semuanya memahami bagaimana cara memanfaatkan informasi dan fasilitas perpustakaan secara benar dan cepat. Mereka tidak dapat memanfaatkan secara maksimal karena belum memahami teknik dan strategi bagaimana cara menggunakan perpustakaana secara efektif dan efesien. Maka dari itu, mereka perlu diberikan pendidikan pemakai perpustakaan (user education), yaitu pendidikan tentang teknik dan strategi dalam memanfaatkan perpustakaan dengan tepat guna. Pendiikan pemakai ini menurut Fjanllbrantand merupakan satu bagian dari interaksi antara pemakai dengan perpustakaan (Fjallbrantand, N. & Malley, I., 1984). Kegiatan pendidikan pemakai (user education) diharapkan dapat diselenggarakan di setiap jenis perpustakaan, terutama pada perpustakaan perguruan tinggi (termasuk UIN dan IAIN). Karena dengan adanya pendidikan pemakai dapat meningkatkan fungsi perpustakaan dan pustakawan dalam menunjang program Tri Dharma Perguruan Tinggi lembaga induknya. Dan disisi lain, dasar pemikiran pentingnya pendidikan pemakai perpustakaan ini juga ditujukan bagi pemakai perpustakaan (terutama mahasiswa baru) untuk menyiapkan mereka agar dapat dengan terampil menggali sumber informasi yang diperlukan dan memanfaatkannya untuk pendidikannya. Kemampuan menelusur informasi ini akan sangat bermanfaat bagi mahasiswa untuk bekal mengembangkan karirnya dalam kehidupan di dalam dan di luar kampus nantinya. 2. ANTARA PERPUSTAKAAN, LEMBAGA PENDIDIKAN, DAN INFORMASI / PENGETAHUAN Pemikiran yang ditangkan dalam proses transformasi pengetahuan dan konteks pendidikan dan pembelajaran, yang di dalamnya dijelaskan mengenai konsep pendidikan menurut pandangan Mortensen dan Schmuller, yang mendudukkan wilayah pembelajaran (instructional) sebagai bagian yang domiman, di samping bagaian lainnya seperti wilayah manajerial aatau kepemimpinan pendidikan, dan wilayah 82 bimbingan pemakai dan bantuan dalam pendidikan. Proses pendidikan seperti ini berlaku hampir proses pendidikan yang berlaku di lembaga-lembaga pendidikan formal seperti sekolah, perguruan tinggi, dan lembaga-lembaga-lembaga pendidikan dan pelatihan (Yusuf, P.M., 2012). Perpustakaan menurut fungsinya memposisikan diri sebagai tempat yang menyediakan berbagai informasi dari berbagai macam bidang subjek, baik yang berkaitan dengan sosial, politik, maupun ekonomi, agama, bahasa dan informasi lainnya. Di perguruan tinggi, perpustakaan sering diistilahkan sebagai “jantungnya perguruan tinggi”. Hal ini berarti perpustakaan memiliki peranan penting di dunia pendidikan. Jika jantungnya lemah, tubuh lainnya juga akan menjadi lemah. Ini berarti jika perpustakaan lemah, akan berpengaruh pula terhadap institusi tempat perpustakaan bernanung. Sebaliknya, jika jantungnya baik, akan membuat baik pula tubuhnya. Dengan demikian, jika perpustakaan baik, akan baik pula lembaga/institusinya, pemisalan lain, perpustakaan dan lembaga pendidikan sekarang ini seperti dua sisi mata uang. Keduanya akan menjadi bernilai jika keduanya ada, demikian pula dengan informasinya. Perpustakaan dengan informasi juga tidak boleh dipisahkan sebab kekuatan perpustakaan ada pada informasi yang disajikan. Hubungan kedua hal tersebut dapat dilihat pada bagan berikut: Diagram 1. Hubungan Perpustakaan, lembaga pendidikan dan informasi Dari bagan di samping dapat dilihat bahwa perpustakaan memiliki kaitan dengan lembaga pendidikan. Hubungan itu secara kasat mata dapat dilihat dari pendekatan kelembagaan. Sedangkan, baik perpustakaan dan lembaga pendidikan, keduanya memiliki tugas yang sama, yaitu menyebarkan informasi / pengetahuan. Perbedaannya, lembaga pendidikan memberikan informasi kepada para siswa atau mahasiswa melalui proses pembelajaran dengan informasi / pengetahuan yang mengacu kepada kurikulumnya, sedangkan perpustakaan menyebarkan informasi secara langsung kepada pemakai (user) atau pemustaka tanpa terkait langsung oleh kurikulum (Wiji, S. 2011). Namun demikian, perpustakaan yang bernanung di bawah institusi pendidikan bergerak maju mengikuti pola perkembangan kurikulum. Hal ini dapat dimaklumi karena perpustakaan di sini berperan sebagai pendukukng program lembaga induknya. Pergeseran paradigma lembaga pendidikan menandakan gerak dinamisnya pendidikan sekaligus sebagai jawaban dari konsekuensi logis sebagai upaya beradaptasi dengan tuntutan zaman yang juga selalu berkembang. Agar pendidikan dapat menjalankan fungsinya dengan baik, harus ada perubahan dan pembaruan paradigma. 3. PENGAJARAN DAN PENDIDIKAN PEMAKAI (USER EDUCATION) Ledakan pengetahuan telah menghasilkan banyak informasi. Pengawasan terhadap bibliografi, termasuk juga di perpustakaan menjadi masalah. Pendidikan pemakai merupakan suatu alternatif mengatasi kesulitan ini. Tetapi dalam prakteknya belum banyak dilaksanakan di berbagai perpustakaan. Manusia merupakan faktor penting dalam pelasanaan pengajaran pendidikan pemakai. Oleh karena itu pustakawan pengajar perlu mengetahui teknik-teknik pengajaran sehingga tidak Perpustakaan Informasi/ Pengetahuan Lembaga Pendidikan 83 terjadi kesenjangan antara pengajar dengan pemakai (user). Dalam hal ini pustakawan pengajar perlu mendapatkan materi kuliah tentang metode mengajar, berpartisipasi dalam berbagai pelatihan teknik mengajar, atau bias juga dengan mengadakan kunjungan terhadap pelaksanaan pengajaran di perpustakaan lain. Di samping itu jika di perpustakaan tersedia alat berupa video-tape dan lain-lain, dapat digunakan secara mandiri oleh pustakawan untuk menganalisa teknik pengajarannya. Caranya melibatkan pihak lain seperti dosen atau mahasiswa untuk menganalisanya, baik secara formal atau informal. Pengajaran sebagai bagian integral dari proses belajar mengajar, perlu disesuaikan dengan para peserta didik. Pengajaran tidak berlangsung dengan baik jika materi terlalu tinggi atau rendah, terlalu banyak atau terlalu sedikit. Bagi perpustakaan-perpustakaan yang mempunyai media audio-visual, dapat digunakan sebagai sarana untuk mengajarkan pendidikan pemakai terutama bagi pengajaran secara formal dalam suatu kelas. Di samping itu, media audio-visual tersebut juga dapat dimanfaatkan sebagai sarana pelatihan bagi pustakawan dalam pengajaran pendidikan pemakai. Dalam hal ini dapat melibatkan sejumlah pustakawan untuk memberikan komentar terhadap apa yang dilakukannya melalui video-tape. Dari tayangan melalui video-tape ini dapat dilakukan analisa mulai dari keseluruhan sampai pada bagian-bagian yang merupakan ciri-ciri penampilannya. Di sini dapat terlihat bagaimana ketika pustakawan memberikan penjelasan, mendemonstrasikan, dan berbagai gerakan lainnya. Dengan begitu ia dapat melakukan perubahan-perubahan yang diperlukan bagi pengajaran pendidikan pemakai (user education). Ketika sedang terjadi proses pendidikan dan/atau pembelajaran di dalam kelas tadi, semua orng belajar di dalamnya, melakukan proses komunikasi secara terprogram, terencana, dan terkendali, karena dipandu oleh seorang fasilitator yang disebut dosen atau guru, atau pimpinan diskusi kelompok terstruktur. Banyak sekali ide kreatif, inovatif, dan unik yang bermunculan ketika sedang terjadi diskusi dengan adanya pembelajaran pendidikan pemakai di dalam perpustakaan. Hampir semua orang tahu bahwa proses pendidikan dan pembelajaran terjadi di dalam kelas, baik pembelajaran yang sifatnya kelompok dan organisasi maupun pembelajaran secara personal, namun tidak banyak yang mengetahui seperti apa dan bagaimana proses pendidikan dan pembelajaran di dalam perpustakaan yang terprogram oleh sistem atau metode yang terdapat pada pendidikan pemakai (uder education). Pustakawan sudah sejak lama mempunyai perhatian terhadap isu perlunya mengajar keterampilan kepada pemakai untuk medapatkan informasi yang dibutuhkannya. Pengajaran perpustakaan sudah dimulai sejak tahun 1858, ketika Ralph waldo Emerson memberikan pengajaran mengenai penggunaan perpustakaan di Harvard College (Robert, A. F., & Blandy, G. S., 1989). Sejak itu istilah yang digunakan untuk pengajaran keterampilan ini pun beragam seperti pendidikan pemakai perpustakaan, keterampilan perpustakaan, pengajaran perpustakaan dan instruksi bibliografi. Istilah- istilah ini berkaitan dengan pengajaran perpustakaan tradisional. Pendekatan perpustakaan tradisonal didesain untuk mengajarkan mahasiswa mengenai pentingnya penggunaan perpustakaan secara efektif. Pendidikan pemakai perpustakaan yang diajarkan meliputi pengetahuan mengenai gedung, lokasi, fasilitas yang dimiliki perpustakaan serta pengetahuan bagaimana mengakses sumber-sumber yang terdapat di perpustakaan seperti pengajaran mengenai katalog perpustakaan yang merupakan wakil dokumen dari koleksi perpustakaan, indeks terbitan berkala yang merupakan panduan mencari koleksi berkala, dan koleksi referensi. pemustaka juga diajarkan mengenai tajuk subjek dan kata kunci, mengenai nomor panggil dokumen dan menemukan bukatau koleksi di perpustakaan, menuliskan sumber-sumber informasi yang 84 digunakan untuk tugas dan penelitian dengan benar dan membedakan antara literatur popular dan literatur ilmiah. Tujuan pengajaran keterampilan ini masih terbatas yaitu agar para pemustaka atau mahasiswa dapat menggunakan koleksi di perpustakaan untuk tugas-tugas akademik mereka. 4. SUMBER DAYA MANUSIA Pengajaran pendidikan pemakai di perpustakaan perguruan tinggi membutuhkan pustakawan yang mempunyai wawasan luas mengenai teknologi informasi terkini sehingga dapat mengajarkan kepada pemustakanya. Dengan hadirnya internet di jaman teknologi informasi dan komunikasi saat ini maka pustakawan harus memperluas wawasannya dan mempunyai pengetahuan yang cukup mengenai web sites yang akademis dan juga mampu mengorganisasikan sumber-sumber di internet sehingga mahasiswa dan dosen dapat menemukan informasi yang berkualitas tinggi yang berkaitan dengan subjek yang mereka teliti. Selain itu pustakawan harus mempunyai keterampilan dalam mengajar dan berkolaborasi sengan fakultas untuk mengintegrasikan pengajaran ke dalam kurikulum pendidikan. Sayangnya jumlah pustakawan Indonesia yang memiliki keterampilan sebagai pakar informasi dan sebagai pendidik information literacy atau pengajaran pendidikan pemakai masih sangat terbatasi (Farida, I., 2006). Hal ini juga berkaitan dengan kurikulum pendidikan di lembaga pendidikan yang menghasilkan lulusan pustakawan yang masih menekankan pada kurikulum perpustakaan tradisional dari pada kurikulum yang berorientasi pada teknologi informasi. Sumber daya manusia yang ada di perpustakaan yang dapat menjalankan tugas dalan pengajaran pendidikan pemakai, maka pustakawan tersebut telah memiliki beberapa kompetensi individu antara lain: a. Pustakawan yang sudah mampu untuk berfikir kritis dan bersikap etis dengan memberdayakan informasi yang telah dimiliki. b. Pustakawan sudah sadar akan kebutuhan informasi, kemudian juga sudah tahu bagaimana caranya mengakses sumber- sumber informasi tersebut. c. Pustakawan sudah bisa secara fasih mengetahui cara/metode yang efektif dan efisien untuk menelusur informasi serta dapat menyediakan informasi yang dibutuhkan oleh masyarakat pemakainya. d. Pustakawan tersebut sudah memiliki kemampuan untuk mengenali kapan informasi itu diperlukan oleh masyarakat. e. Pustakawan telah mampu menemukan, menyeleksi dan menganalisia, mengevaluasi dan mengelola, serta memanfaatkan informasi yang diperoleh sesuai dengan kaidah atau aturan yang berlaku. Misalnya: tidak melanggar kode etik, hak cipta, dan HAKI (hak kekayaan intelektual). f. Pustakawan berusaha mencapai keunggulan dalam profesinya dengan cara memelihara dan mengembangkan pengetahuan dan keterampilan. Sumber daya manusia yang unggul adalah mereka yang tidak memiliki hard skill saja tetapi juga piawai dalam aspek soft skill-nya. Maka dari itu pustakawan harusnya mau melengkapi dirinya dengan penguasaan soft skill. Arti penting penguasaan soft skill bagi pustakawan adalah untuk meningkatkan intuisi, kepekaan, dan kepekaan ketika bekerja. Maka pustakawan yang mempunyai soft skill akan selangkah lebih maju, dan harapan menjadi pustakawan profesional kian mendekati kenyataan (Fatmawati, E. 2010). Ada dua ukuran/acuan untuk mengetahui kualaitas seseorang pustakawan, yaitu penguasaan keterampilan “keras” (hard skill), dan “lunak” (soft skill). Adapun perbedaan 85 antara hard skill dan soft skill tersebut adalah sebagai berikut: 1. Hard Skill  merupakan sesuatu yang dapat mencerminkan pengetahuan dan keterampilan fisik pustakawan serta dapat menghasilkan sesuatu  mempunyai sifat kelihatan/Nampak (visible) dan segera (immediate)  kompetensi hard skill ini dapat langsung dilihat dari daftar riwayat hidup, pengalaman kerja, daftar penilaian pelaksanaan pekerjaan (DP3), prestasi kerja dan keterampilan yang dikuasai. Contoh Elemen hard skill: (a). penguasaan jaringan komputer (LAN/WAN) (b). Penguasaan sistem informasi perpustakaan, (c). Penguasaan perangkat lunak (software), dan (d). Penguasaan multimedia. 2. Soft Skill  Merupakan Pustakawan di luar kemampuan teknis dan akademis (hard skill), yang lebih mengutamakan keterampilan dalam berhubungan dengan orang lain (interpersonal) dan mengelola dirinya sendiri (intrapersonal), agar bisa beradaptasi dan beromunukasi dengan baik pada lingkungan dimana pustakawan berada.  Bersifat tidak kelihatan/tidak Nampak (invisible) dan tidak segera.  Atribut soft skill mencakup nilai motivasi, perilaku, kebiasaan, karakter dan sikap pustakawan.  Soft skill menunjukkan adanya sintuisi dan kepekaan pustakawan. 5. SISTEM PENDIDIKAN DAN KEBIJAKAN NASIONAL MENGENAI PENGAJARAN PENDIDIKAN PEMAKAI (USER EDUCATION) Sistem pendidikan di Indonesia masih menggunakan pola yang berorientasi kepada guru atau dosen. Guru dan dosen adalah sumber informasi sementara peserta didik atau mahasiswa adalah penerima informasi yang pasif, mereka hanya menerima saja apa yang diberikan oleh gurunya. Meskipun kurikulum berbasis kompetensi telah diterapkan dalam sistem pendidikan di Indonesia. Salah satu perangkat untuk menuju suksesnya kurikulum tersebut yaitu perpustakaan tidak menjadi agenda utama sehingga kurikulum yang ada hanya menjadi asesori belaka. Sementara dalam realitasnya pembelajaran secara pasif masih berlangsung dihampir sebagian besar institusi pendidikan termasuk di dalamnya pendidikan tinggi (Marteso dan Lau, J., .2013). Hal ini tentunya sangat disayangkan bahwa pendidikan yang berorientasi kepada guru merupakan salah satu penghambat pengajaran pendidikan pemakai (user education) di negara berkembang. Metode pengajaran seperti ini membuat mahasiswa tidak tertantang untuk mendapatkan pengetahuan di luar kelas. Mahasiswa sangat bergantung pada ceramah dosen, catatan mata kuliah, buku teks dan menghafal pengetahuan tanpa memahaminya. Tanpa ke perpustakaan atau menggunakan sumber-sumber informasi di luar kelas yang terkait dengan mata kuliah tersebut, mahasiswa sudah dapat lulus dengan nilai yang bagus sepanjang mereka mempelajari apa yang diberikan di dalam kelas. Sistem pendidikan merupakan jumlah keseluruhan dari bagaian-bagiannya yang saling bekerjasama untuk mencapai hasil yang diharapkan berdasarkan atas kebutuhan yang telah ditentukan. Setiap sistem pasti mempunyai tujuan, dan semua kegiataan dari semua komponen atau bagian-bagiannya adalah diarahkan untuk tercapainya tujuan tersebut. Pendidikan merupakan suatu sistem yang mempunyai unsur-unsur tujuan atau sasaran pendidikan, peserta didik, pengelola pendidikan, struktur atau jenjang, kurikulum dan fasilitas yang harus memadai. Kesemuanya itu merupakan sistem dari satu kesatuan yang harus saling mendukung sehingga tujuan dan arah pendidikan yang berkualitas dapat tercapai 86 Sejauh ini belum ada kebijakan nasional mengenai pengajaran pendidikan pemakai (user education) pada lembaga pendidikan dari mulai pendidikan dasar sampai dengan pendidikan tinggi. Perhatian kebijakan pemerintah masih berkisar pada banyaknya koleksi perpustakaan dan jumlah judul buku yang dimiliki oleh perpustakaan berbanding dengan jumlah siswa atau mahasiswanya. Penilaian akreditasi suatu institusi pendidikan dari sudut perpustakaan masih dilihat dari jumlah koleksi yang dimiliki oleh suatu perpustakaan. Pengajaran pendidikan pemakai (user education) belum menjadi fokus dalam penilaian akreditasi. Padahal makin banyak universitas yang mengklaim institusi pendidikan mereka sebagai ‘research university’. Bagaimana civitas akademikanya dapat melakukan riset dengan baik tanpa didukung fasilitas dan keterampilan menemukan informasi dengan baik sesuai dengan kebutuhan mereka. Pengajaran pendidikan pemakai pada jenjang perguruan tinggi di Indonesia sangat penting karena pendidikan dasar sampai menengah belum menekankan pentingnya proses belajar secara independen misalnya proses belajar yang mendidik siswa atau mahasiswa membuat karya tulis ilmiah atau tugas independen mengenai suatu topik dengan menggunakan sumber-sumber yang ada tanpa terjebak dengan plagiat atau sekedar copy paste. Kebanyakan pendidikan dasar dan menengah masih menggunakan pendekatan pendidikan yang berorientasi pada guru dan buku teks. Tetapi ketika memasuki perguruan tinggi mahasiswa diharapkan belajar lebih mandiri dan pada setiap mata kuliah mahasiswa biasanya diberikan tugas independen dimana mereka harus menulis makalah dengan topik-topik tertentu dengan menggunakan sumber-sumber yang ada di perpustakaan. 6. PERPUSTAKAAN SEBAGAI PILAR PENYANGGA PERADABAN Adalah sulit, atau bahkan mustahil, mencari ilmu tanpa membaca buku. Melalui buku, manusia memanifestasikan pendidikan sebagai warisan terbaiknya. Ketika pencarian makna dan pemikiran mereka dibahasakan dalam lembar-lembar tulisan, proses regenerasi pengetahuan menjadi rantai yang tidak terputus. Sejarah perjalanan proses pemaknaan manusia terhadap dunianya melalui kerangka ilmu pengetahuan terekam melalui gambar dan tulisan. Bahkan hingga saat ini, di era digital yang penuh dengan kemudahan teknologi, semua informasi yang direkam telah membantu umat manusia mengembangkan peradabannya. Informasi- informasi tersebut disimpan di tempat khusus yang disebut perpustakaan. Perpustakaan memiliki sejarah panjang dalam perkembangan ilmu pengetahuan manusia, dan hingga kini masih menjadi salah satu fasilitas terpenting dari setiap perguruan tinggi dunia. Universitas yang berbasis riset dan bertaraf internasional selalu menjadikan perpustakaannya sebagai sumber ilmu dan informasi. Karenanya di banyak universitas, upaya-upaya pencarian dana untuk melengkapi dan meningkatkan kualitas perpustakaan menjadi krusial. Hal ini dikarenakan fungsi universitas bukan semata menjadi menara gading intelektual, tetapi harus melahirkan penelitian-penelitian dimana ilmu pengetahuan dijadikan alat untuk menjawab berbagai permasalahan riil kehidupan manusia, terlebih lagi kepada sumber peradaban (Soedjatmoko, 1985). Peradaban dimulai dari membaca realitas- realitas yang kemudian dibukukan oleh penulis kreatif, pembacaan terhadap realitas akan kesadaran pemikirannya tentang perubahan suatu kehidupan yang selalu terjadi. Sesungguhnya hidup itu perubahan, tidak ada satu kehidupan pun yang tidak mengalami perubahan bahkan matipun sesungguhnya adalah estafet dari perubahan, 87 seperti terminal untuk melanjutkan kehidupannya yang lain. Perubahan itu menantang tenaga kreatifnya untuk bekerja membuat atau mencari alternatif dari perubahan menjadi sesuatu yang baru dan ketika kebaruan itu muncul dalam wujud kehidupan maka suatu bangunan peradaban telah dimulai. Peradaban adalah kecerdasan kreatif, hasil bacaan kritis terhadap realitas- realitas adalah perubahan dan peradaban pun mengalami perubahan, mengalami jatuh bangun. Puncak-puncak peradaban adalah puncak-puncak pemikiran kreatif, pemikiran yang bebas menjelajahi setiap ruang kehidupan dan membangun suatu wujud peradaban yang otentik untuk meneguhkan eksistensi manusia dalam mengukir sejarahnya (Musa, A., 2011). Kata “peradaban” sering disepadankan dengan “madaniyah” atau “hadharah” dalam bahasa Arab, serta “civilization”dalam bahasa Inggris. Maddaniyah mempunyai konotasi segi-segi pengembangan ilmu pengetahuan, materi, penemuan-penemuan dari kehidupan suatu bangsa. Dengan demikian maka peradaban Islam harus dimaknai sebagai hal yang diletakkan oleh Islam dalam hal aqidah akhlak, nilai-nilai tatanan kehidupan individu, masyarakat dan yang dihasilkan oleh lingkungan Islam baik dari segi sastra, seni, pandangan dan falsafah hidup dan apa apa yang dihasilkan oleh lingkungan tersebut berupa teori serta penemuan. Peradaban memiliki dua aspek. Aspek pertama adalah kemajuan material yang meliputi semua bidang kehidupan. Aspek kedua adalah kematangan dan kedalamam spiritual yang meliputi kemajuan karakter, akhlak, norma, tatanan dan pemikiran serta kreativitas (Azhar, A., 2009). Dari semua hal itu bisa didapatkan di perpustakaan melalui penerapan pendidikan pemakai (user education). Peradaban Islam adalah peradaban yang mengasumsikan adanya titik tolak penciptaannya oleh orang-orang yang mempunyai komitmen kepada nilai Islam yang berintikan taqwa kepada Allah dan usaha mrencapai ridhaNya. Tetapi peradaban itu sendiri juga mengasumsikan daya cipta, daya intelektual, serta kreatifitas manusia dan usahanya dalam rangka memakmurkan dan membangun kehidupan sejahtera di dunia dan dalam rangka mencari kebahagiaan sejati di akhirat kelak. Peradaban itu sendiri menunjukkan fungsi kekhalifaan umat manusia. Peradaban Islam sangat terkait dengan keberimanan dan kepercayaan yang memiliki dimensi-dimensi moral yang dapat membantu terwujudnya peradaban global yang imensif. Itulah yang dimaksud oleh John Gardner, seorang cendekiawan Amerika ketika ia mengatakan bahwa tidak ada bangsa yang dapat mencapai kebesaran jika ia tidak percaya kepada sesuatu, dan jika sesuatu yang dipercayainya tidak memiliki dimensi- dimensi moral guna menopang peradaban yang agung (“No nation can achieve greatness unless it believes in something, and unless that something has moral dimensions to sustain a great civilization”) (Azhar, A., 2009). Perpustakaan serta kebedaannya di lembaga perguruan tinggi terkhusus kepada perguruan tinggi agama Islam adalah sebagai penyangga peradaban, perpustakaan adalah gudangnya pluralitas-pluralitas pemikiran yang komlpleks yang dibukukan dari proses dialektika kreatif seorang pemikir yang membaca realitas plural. Untuk menjawab tantangan kehidupan yang terus menerus berubah, negeri ini akan menjadi bumi yang subur untuk menumbuhkan pluralitas, jika perpustakaan tetap terjaga peranannya dalam dunia pendidikan yang mencerdaskan bangsa dan sebagai pilar penyangga peradaban yang memuliakan pemikiran yang bebas (Musa, A., 2011). 7. URGENSI PENDIDIKAN PEMAKAI (USER EDUCATION) DAN KONSEP PERADABAN DI KAMPUS UNIVERSITAS ISLAM NEGERI ALAUDDIN Dalam rangka menuju pusat peradaban Islam khususnya di kawasan Indonesia Timur, langkah pertama yang harus diambil adalah penciptaan atmosfir akademik yang sehat dan penekanan pada kualitas serta penjaminan mutu (quality assurance). Pelayanan yang 88 bermutu, materi yang bermutu, proses yang bermutu, produk luaran yang bermutu dan seterusnya. Mahasiswa diharapkan hidup dan belajar dalam lingkungan yang mendukung yang terefleksikan dalam gaya hidup mereka yang terbebas dari sekat-sekat pikiran non akademik. Oleh karena itu, keberadaan perpustakaan dengan medianya harus diupayakan menarik dan menyenangkan. Perpustakaan harus selalu diupayakan semakin meningkatkan kualitasnya dan kuantitas koleksinya. Muatan dan cakupan perpustakaan harus meliputi buku-buku dan jurnal diberbagai bidang subjek, seperti sains dan teknologi, ilmu sosial, dan humaniora, di samping pemenuhan koleksi bernuansa agama serta muatan nilai-nilai dan warisan kebudayaan dan peradaban, termasuk dokumen tentang sejarah masuknya Islam di kawasan Indonesia Timur, dan tentu saja semua dapat terwujud apabila semua komponen bersinergi dan saling melengkapi sehingga kampus peradaban di Universitas Islam Negeri Alauddin dapat terwujud. Peran UIN Alauddin sebagai lembaga pendidikan tinggi berfungsi sebagai media untuk menciptakan seluruh civitas akademikanya memperkuat identitas pribadi, meningkatkan kapasitas belajar dan membangun serta mengembangkan pengetahuan dan kompetensi mereka masing- masing sehingga tercipta masyarakat kampus yang berperadaban. Universita Islam Negeri (UIN) masa mendatang harus melengkapi dirinya dengan suatu “sistem Basis Data Pengetahuan” yang konsumtif, netral tanpa sekat aliran atau mazhab dan paradigma tertentu. Dengan basis data yang demikian, UIN diharapkan dapat berfungsi betul-betul sebagai pelayan yang menyediakan “whatever needed”. Pendekatan yang demikian akan memberi akses terhadap perkembangan peradaban dan paling tidak terhadap proses penciptaan ilmu pengetahuan dan milieu akademik yang lebih luas. Tentu saja, sistem yang dimaksud harus ditopang dengan modus, manajemen, dan sumber daya manusia yang semakin handal pada saat mana pemanfaatan teknologi komunikasi dan iformasi menjadi suatu keniscayaan. Perpustakaan menjadi server yang berfungsi sebagai simpul dari suatu jaringan pengetahuan maya (cyber knowledge network) dimana semua sumber informasi dan simpul-simpul penghasil pengetahuan dapat saling berhubungan (Musa, A., 2011). Keberadaan Perpustakaan adalah bagian yang tidak dapat terpisahkan dalam dunia pendidikan dan peradaban, sekaligus juga sebagai lembaga pendidikan terutama pendidikan informal. Melalui koleksi dari hasil karya para ilmuan, peneliti, pakar/ahli yang terdapat di dalam perpustakaan, seseorang dapat belajar atau menuntut ilmu secara mandiri. Dalam banyak hal kedudukan koleksi atau buku dan guru adalah sama, satu sama lain memiliki kelebihan dan kelemahan. Guru dan dosen memberikan ilmu pengetahuan secara langsung, sedangkan buku melalui perpustakaan adalah transfer pengetahuan secara tidak langsung. Melalui user education di perpustakaan pendidikan sepanjang hayat (life long education) difasilitasi dengan baik (Hermawan, R., dan Zulfikar, Z., 2006). 8. PENUTUP Urgensi pengajaran pendidikan pemakai (user education) di lembaga perguruan tinggi yang diprogramkan oleh perpustakaan sebagai unit penunjang perguruan tinggi yang menaunginya, maka hal ini sangat penting untuk menciptakan civitas akademikanya untuk menguasai cara mengakses, menggunakan, dan mengevaluasi informasi dan pengetahuan yang telah disiapkan. Dengan membeludaknya informasi yang ada di era teknologi ini sehingga dapat dibendung agar tidak terjebak oleh informasi yang bisa menyesatkan. Dengan adanya keterampilan yang dimiki oleh seseorang khususnya civitas akademika yang ada di perguruan tinggi 89 sebagai masyarakat ilmiah, sudah sepatutnya menjadi fasilitator dalam membangun peradaban, dengan demikian mahasiswa akan lebih siap untuk terus belajar dalam kehidupannya, karena mereka akan menjadi manusia yang cerdas bukan hanya intelektualnya saja, tetapi juga emosional dan spiritualnya. DAFAR PUSTAKA Arsyad, Azhar. Membangun Universitas menuju Peradaban Islam Modern. Makassar: Alauddin Press, 2009. Asy’ari, Musa. The Key Word: Perpustakaan di Mata masyarakat. Yogyakarta: Perpustakaan UIN Sunan Kalijaga, 2011. Farida, Ida. “Urgensi Pengajaran Information Literacy pada Tingkat Perguruan Tinggi”, Almaktabah; Jurnal Komunikasi dan Informasi Perpustakaan, Volume 8, nomor 2 Oktober 2006. Fatmawati, Endang. The Art of Library: Ikatan Esai Bergizi tentang Seni Mengelola Perpustakaan. Semarang: Universitas Diponegoro, 2010. Fjallbrantand, Nancy & Malley, Ian, User Education in Library (London : Clive Bingley Limited, 1984). Hermawan, Rachman & Zulfikar Zen, Etika Kepustakawanan: Suatu Pendekatan Terhadap Kode Etik Pustakawan Indonesia. Jakarta: Sagung Seto, 2006. Marteso dan Lau, Jesus, “Information Competencies: Bridging the North South Knowledge Gap”, http://www.library.uiuc.edo/morten son/pdf/laulecture.pdf. diakses 10 oktober 2013 Robert, Anne F. & Blandy, G. Susan, Library Instruction for Librarians. Colorado: Libraries Unlimited, Inc. 1989. Soedjatmoko. Pikiran Tentang Beberapa Perguruan Tinggi: dalam Eetika Pembebasan: Pilihan Karangan Tentang Agama, Kebudayaan, Sejarah dan Ilmu Pengetahuan. Jakarta: LP3ES, 1985. Sulistyo-Basuki. Pengantar Ilmu Perpustakaan. Jakarta: Gramedia Pustaka, 1993 Wiji Suwarno, Ilmu perpustakaan & Kode Etik Pustakawan (Jogjakarta: Ar-Ruzz Media, 2010), 17. Yusuf, Pawit M. Perspektif Pengetahuan Informasi, Komunikasi, Pendidikan, dan Perpustakaan. Jakarta: Rajawali Press, 2012. Musa Asy’ari, The Key Word: Perpustakaan di Mata masyarakat. Yogyakarta: Perpustakaan UIN Sunan Kalijaga, 2011. 
work_ohhtb2cao5eqzgopljr7ce2jla	----	A Pig Doesn't Make the Revolution - Review: Leonardo Caffo, Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione: manifesto per un antispecismo debole (2013) A Pig Doesn’t Make the Revolution Valentina Sonzogni Architecture and Art Historian, Museum of Contemporary Art, Rivoli, Italy valentina_sonzogni@yahoo.it Caffo, Leonardo. 2013. Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione: manifesto per un anti spe ci- smo debole. Casale Monferrato: Sonda. 127 pp. € 12.00. ISBN 978-8-87106-701-8 We are always coming up with the emphatic facts of his- tory in our private experience, and verifying them here. All history becomes subjective; in other words, there is properly no history; only biography. Every mind must know the whole lesson for itself, must go over the whole ground. What it does not see, what it does not live, it will not know. (Ralph Waldo Emerson, Essays, 1841) Writing a review of Leonardo Caffo’s book Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione (A Pig Doesn’t Make the Revolution) has a special meaning for me, as the title of the book recalls the eponymous interview that I did with Caffo in 2011, focusing on what I would call “the bases” of antispeciesism. At that time, after embracing Vegetarianism, I was looking for a theo- retical background that would provide intellectual support to my spiritual longing for animal welfare: this is how I came across his research. I would call it a piece of good luck, as Caffo’s thinking has been complementing what I consider to be not only a new political position and a major reality check but, in the first place, a personal evolution. Caffo’s conceptual system, which I then carried with me in my path as an “amateur” animal rights advocate (I promote this view in a rather small community), revolves around the concepts of compassion and lucidity, civil disobedience and the capacity to talk to ordinary people as well as to finely educated people in order to transmit “the truth” that is hidden behind the clean and anonymous walls of the slaughterhouse. So this is a review of a book, but it also contains my personal opinion on Caffo, who embodies – he will excuse me for using him as a guinea pig – a new genre of activism that may finally manage to get the message outside of the enclave of activists, perhaps finally conquering the attention of indifferent omnivores as well as leather and fur fashionistas. http://www.ledonline.it/Relations/ Valentina Sonzogni 144 Relations – 2.2 - November 2014 http://www.ledonline.it/Relations/ The book is structured in a rather simple and clear way. After a first chapter in which Caffo presents the thesis of the animal liberation’s move- ment initiators such as Peter Singer and Tom Regan, he proceeds to deline- ate a genealogy of the movement by oppositions calling into cause thinkers such as Matthew Calarco and Jacques Derrida as well as Martin Heidegger to accompany the reader in a series of mental experiments proving the specificity of the struggle for animal rights. The crucial transition of the field of animal cognition into that of animal studies is analyzed by Caffo through a review of the different definitions of speciesism, showing that the intellectual plea today is for a larger perspective that would start from pain and distress, anguish and fear and in which sensiocentrism would be the ethical guide to such (r)evolution. In the third chapter, Caffo examines his main ideas and achievements, namely what he defines “antispecismo debole” or “terzo antispecismo” (“weak antispeciesism” or “third antispeciesism”). The fourth chapter is the re-publication of a dialogue between Caffo and Marco Maurizi in which they debate in a reciprocate interview on the topic of possible scenarios for animal liberation, among which Maurizi especially supports political antispeciesism, a theory and practise that pairs advocacy for human and non human animals rights. The conclusion of the book tells a lot about its own premises: Caffo acknowledges and incorporates in his method the idea of “negoziato concettuale” (“intellectual negotiation”) as it was introduced by Roberto Casati (Casati 2011). The enormous task of achieving animal liberation can progress only through the negotiation of the different souls and minds of the animal rights movement and, I would add, not only in the Italian scenario, but opening up to other countries and their experiences, from Austria to China, learning from their victories and defeats while developing a solid strategic action for animals, as Melanie Joy would put it (Joy 2008). Something may surprise the reader: Caffo states to have tried to write his book not as an animal rights advocate but as an animal (Caffo 2013, 9): writing as a pig would write can make visible to our eyes the only possible way to his own liberation. Once you get familiar with his thinking, believe me, you will agree that Caffo is that pig, that forgotten nameless animal dying unheard, in this very moment, in a filthy slaughterhouse, somewhere on the planet earth. His “weak antispeciesism” is born out of compassion (and, of course, out of a strong philosophical grounding); yet, if this kind of “sentimental” approach to the matter can be regarded as inappropriate or “weak” within Academic circles, his theory is appealing for most audi- ences, reaching out for non-vegan communities, intersecting with other disciplines and slowly permeating those communities that have no familiar- L. Caffo, “Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione: manifesto per un anti spe ci smo debole” 145 Relations – 2.2 - November 2014 http://www.ledonline.it/Relations/ ity with such topics. A new definition of activist, also fostered by Joy in her book Strategic Actions for Animals, seems to be another important step in the process of helping the pig with his revolution: animal rights advocates should not present themselves as “non-eaters of something” (opposing omnivores in this), but as supporters of a new conception of the world, that is, as an avant-garde movement. Do you remember the Cubists, or Igor Stravinsky, James Joyce or Le Corbusier, The Beatles and Madonna? That’s it, we won’t make it as vegans (although we must all tend to this kind of diet) but we will make it as antispeciesists in that we bring further a new idea of life and philosophy. But Caffo says more: antispeciesists are not only doing this, but what is more, they are speaking up for those who have no voice, so they must become that pig. Having said that, Caffo proceeds to take a distance from what he is known as “political antispeciesism”, generally intended as a movement that aims at liberating both human and non-human animals at the same time (and I apologize for not acknowledging the different tendencies of the movement here). Caffo does not deny political antispeciesism but defines the ideological and practical limits of struggling for animals in order to define sharply the timing and the goals of this battle. Caffo has been criti- cized for his “third antispeciesism” in that it seems to exclude human rights struggles. Yet, although he sets animal suffering as a priority in the agenda, he is not devaluing the equally urgent issue of human slavery or exploita- tion. Such urge derives from the philosophical difference between action and intention, which is killing an animal in a car accident versus allowing the livestock system with the consequent death row, from the creation of lives that should never have been born to the slaughterhouse etc. The care- fully planned and organized killing of billions of non-human animals for food industry, fashion and science (among other purposes) is enough of a reason to set animal liberation at the top of the agenda. Caffo’s antispe- ciesism is weak in this sense: that is, it suspends the judgment on broader theories and limits its goal to a more “humble” task, i.e. to act immediately for animal liberation in any possible manner. So far so good. But how to fight for animal rights? That seems to be the question here. Once the conceptual frame is set, Caffo seeks inspiration in the work of the philosopher Henry David Thoreau in indicating the path of civil disobedience as a form of individual struggle against the privileges that the human species has self-granted to its members: “A new antispe- ciesism must be politically aware of a systemic mistake, while being able to morally deal with individual deviant behaviours on which, if possible, we must immediately take action” (Caffo 2013, 72). These guidelines are summarized in a few points that encourage to give up part of established Valentina Sonzogni 146 Relations – 2.2 - November 2014 http://www.ledonline.it/Relations/ and socially accepted privileges, such as for instance the food obsession that is so typical of Western (and especially Italian) people. This different education fosters individual disobedience, for instance accepting to go to jail after freeing operations and rescues, transgressing the law and so forth, as is already done by ALF and other groups worldwide. From a theoretical point of view, Caffo restates the priority of the non-human animal: “[…] accepting that ours is a struggle not for people and not even also for people, but only for non-human animals, and that the face of a weeping pig alone matters more than all the dreams of man- kind” (Caffo 2013, 75). Getting involved with animal liberation limits the field to this specific battle, which is remarkably different from a global, larger and more complex battle against exploitation – situating it non before human liberation, but just next to it, although separated. Animal liberation is prioritary for Caffo and it is a moral imperative based on a commonly accepted truth that is not questionable: non-human animals do suffer, feel and remember, they can think and some of them understand human language (everyone who has a dog or a cat, let alone a monkey can confirm this). They have familiar bonds and memory and a nervous system that makes them feel physical pain and psychological distress. One can have no empathy for non-human animals but these facts are as accepted nowadays as the fact that the planet earth is spherical. And, just as many people today dismiss as unacceptable any act of sex, gender and race discrimination, one day they will find unacceptable the habit of animal corpses consumption in public (once called “meat”) or shoes made with dead skin (once called “leather” or “hide”). It is again Caffo who writes: Unfortunately, however, it is widely believed that we should not force other to stop eating meat because, in the name of a generic pluralism, we must respect the food choices of other individuals. Those who argue that eating or making clothes out of non-human animals is justifiable rarely try to pro- vide valid arguments for their thesis. […] However, a value judgment about what is eaten is widespread: the proof can be found in the fact that, virtually, human cultures do not practice cannibalism, because eating humans is con- sidered reprehensible. (Caffo 2013, 93) Even though he distances himself from the actual debate on political antispeciesism, Caffo is a political antispeciesist because antispeciesism is political in the first place. What Caffo states is: let’s put non-human ani- mals back at the center of our struggle and let us not only feel their pain but be them. In any case, there is enough space in one’s mind and heart to embrace more than one cause. Pigs perhaps don’t make the difference (yet), but we (still) do. L. Caffo, “Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione: manifesto per un anti spe ci smo debole” 147 Relations – 2.2 - November 2014 http://www.ledonline.it/Relations/ RefeRenceS Caffo, Leonardo. 2013. Il maiale non fa la rivoluzione: manifesto per un antispecismo de bole. Casale Monferrato: Sonda. Casati, Roberto. 2011. Prima lezione di filosofia. Roma: Laterza. Joy, Melanie. 2008. Strategic Actions for Animals. New York: Lantern Books. 
work_ohp3d6ffkjhcpdcwbh4onap46m	----	Microsoft Word - Campbell ASIST 06 final .doc Authorship, Incentives for Creation, and Copyright in the Digital 21st Century James Campbell Dept. of Spatial Information Science & Engineering, 348 Boardman Hall, University of Maine, Orono, ME 04469. campbell at spatial dot maine.edu Abstract: Copyright in the United States is under enormous stress in the digital age. The cause of this stress is often described in technological terms, yet there are deeper systemic policy and legal factors at play. Specifically, there is an ever-increasing, and increasingly obvious, disconnect between the constitutionally based justification for copyright, and copyright's lived out implementation. That is particularly true regarding two key justifications for the expansions of copyright protection that have occurred since 1790: the concept of the author, and the necessity of providing a high level of control and financial incentives to authors to encourage the production of socially valuable works. This paper examines both of these justifications for expanded copyright protection and finds them unproven and, in fact, significantly lacking force under both philosophical and empirical analysis. We suggest that the U.S. abandon those justifications for copyright in today's digital world. We offer eight principles upon which a more integrated and relevant copyright system could be based, one in which policy, law, and practice could be brought into coherence so that today's stresses on copyright would be minimized, and the Constitutional charge to promote "the Progress of Science and useful Arts" would be maximized for society as a whole. Prologue Copyright, in a word, is about authorship. Copyright is about sustaining the conditions of creativity that enable an individual to craft out of thin air, and intense, devouring labor, an Appalachian Spring, a Sun Also Rises, a Citizen Kane. Paul Goldstein The process of authorship, however, is more equivocal than that romantic model admits. To say that every new work is in some sense based on the works that preceded it is such a truism that it has long been a cliché, invoked but not examined. But the very act of authorship in any medium is more akin to translation and recombination than it is to creating Aphrodite from the foam of the sea. Jessica Litman Introduction Toy Story, an award winning animated film which grossed over $350 million, lists eight people as writers in the credits and dozens as “visual artists.” The copyright to this extremely valuable work is held by Walt Disney Studios® and Pixar Animation Studios®. So who are the “authors”?1 This is not a trick parlor game question. Instead it is a question that goes to the heart of U.S. copyright policy, a system of law which is under great stress in today’s digital environment. The cause of this stress is usually described in technological terms: digital technology makes possible perfect copies at essentially no cost (and, on the other hand, it is important to note, perfect post-sale control of the use of works). Yet digital technology is not the first new technology that copyright law has had to deal with during the past two hundred years, and during that time, through both statute and court cases, it has managed to survive—at a price. The price is a steep one: an ever-increasing disconnect between the constitutionally based justification for copyright and its lived out implementation. We now have a system in which the policy rationale for copyright law has diverged in a significant way from its practice and application. That is particularly true regarding two key justifications for the expansions of copyright protection that have occurred since 1790: the concept of the author, and the necessity of providing a high level of control and financial incentive to authors to encourage the production of socially valuable works, particularly in a world of perfect digital copies. In this paper, we use historical, philosophical, and legal analysis tools to attempt to understand how the concept of “author” has been used to provide a policy justification for current forms of copyright;2 describe policy claims regarding the necessity of financial incentives as the sine qua non of guaranteeing a steady supply of valuable new works to society, claims that have only grown stronger in the digital environment; identify some of the key discrepancies between justification and implementation of copyright; and finally suggest some principles that could bring policy justification into conformance with actual copyright practice, and perhaps help to reduce some of the stress on the system by fitting both policy and practice to the world in which they now operate. Context In the U.S., copyright law draws its authority from Article 1, Section 8 of the U.S. Constitution. On that fact there is agreement. But while the Constitution stipulates an end—“To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts;” and a general means “by securing for limited Times to Authors and Inventors the exclusive Right to their respective Writings and Discoveries,” —it does not supply a set of instructions for implementing that “exclusive Right,” nor does it define precisely what type of “Right” the framers had in mind. “Copyright's progress mandate demands that we develop a system of rights and rules to foster creativity. It does not tell us how.” (Cohen, 2000) The set of instructions we have fashioned to fulfill the founders’ charge is copyright law. Copyright began modestly in the U.S., offering copyright protection to authors for books, maps, and charts for 14 years with an option of an additional 14 years to be claimed by the author, providing he or she were alive to benefit from the additional term of protection. The term of 14 years was consistent with the English Statute of Anne of 1710, which, in turn, established its term of protection by historical analog to patents. Over time in the U.S., the distinction between “Inventions” and “Writings” has become more pronounced so that while the term of patent protection is currently usually 20 years, the term of copyright protection is the life of the author plus 70 years, and the scope of copyright protection now covers any work of authorship “fixed in any tangible medium.” The distinction between “Authors” and “Inventors” and the different ways in which they are treated in U.S. intellectual property law reflects a conception of the author as creating new works “out of thin air.” We elevate the creative nature of the author’s work beyond the practical nature of invention, giving rise to a term of protection for the author that is, practically speaking, seven or eight times the duration offered to the inventor. Why? What is it about the work of authors that leads to such a disparity? Authorship, Authors, and Authors’ Rights William Wordsworth attributed that difference to “genius:” Genius is the introduction of a new element into the intellectual universe: or, if that is not allowed, it is the application of powers to objects on which they had not before been exercised, or on the employment of them in such a manner as to produce effects hitherto unknown. (quoted in Woodmansee, 1984) While the term “genius” does not literally find its way into U.S. legislation or court cases very often, belief in its power is certainly still present in both, as well as in legal discourse, and forms part of the unspoken assumption of what authorship is and why it deserves a higher degree of protection than mere invention. The Constitution does not define the term “Authors” nor does the U.S. Code, nor, in fact, has any court. Instead, courts have gone out of their way to avoid making judgments about “esthetics” or “creativity,” let alone “genius.” In avoiding esthetic judgments, the courts have generally tested for “originality,” while continuing to use at least a “modicum” of creativity when necessary to draw lines between what is protected and what is not. (Patry, 1986) The problem is that copyright is “an institution built on intellectual quicksand” (Rose, 1993) so those lines shift, sometimes uncomfortably, and we wind up with a situation in which “there is ample precedent deciding almost every copyright issue in almost every conceivable direction.” (Litman, 1990) This is not surprising given the statutes and legal tradition that the courts must interpret. The statutory yardstick for providing copyright protection is “original works of authorship,” yet authorship is not defined. The history of what authorship means and how the concept evolved both philosophically and legally is wide and deep.3 That history has left us with a number of claims instilled in our legal tradition and culture, even if not specifically in our legal codes. Article 1, Section 8 speaks of “the exclusive Right.” But the Founders are silent on what the origin or type of right that is. There is no record of Congress’ discussion on the passage of the first copyright act in 1790, so we have no guidance about the nature of authors’ rights from that source, either. There is no specific mention of a property right per se for authors in the Constitution or in the first copyright law, although over time copyright has largely come to be viewed as a property right in the U.S., with all of the attendant assumptions that analogies to physical property carry. At the time of the framing of the Constitution, there were several cultural conceptions of the source of what we might call an authorial “Right.” The liberal idea of Lockean natural rights was very much in evidence, and was complemented by a developing Romantic vision of the author expounded above by Wordsworth. As the Romantic movement grew through the 19th century, so did the image of the author as an individual creator, one who makes new creations ex nihilo or, at the very least, transforms experience and expresses his inspiration in never-before seen “forms.”4 By the mid-19th century, Ralph Waldo Emerson reflected this view in an American cultural context with his famous line that “The Man is only half himself; the other half is his expression.” (Emerson 1884) This is, of course, quite a different view of the author than existed in previous centuries in Europe. Even into the 18th century,5 authors were seen by many as vessels chosen by God to reveal truth to humanity: inspiration (literally, “to breathe into”) came from a higher power. The author was important not as a creator but as a translator or a channel for truth.6 By the time of the framing of the Constitution, the centrality of inspiration to the authorial task was still paramount, but the source of this inspiration had largely, though not completely, moved from without to within, from the hand to God to the author’s genius. While there could be little philosophical or legal justification for recognizing an ownership right of a specific author in material that came directly from God and was therefore the common property of all, there was certainly justification in recognizing a right – even a natural right – in a work of personal expression of individual inspiration and genius. Once the idea of the author as the originator of inspiration became established, the question of rights followed quickly. But what kind of right does an author have to his work? Many argued that this right was a natural one, and as such was enshrined in the common law. While the language of natural rights still arises in debates about the scope of copyright and the protection of authorial rights in legal literature and even in the halls of Congress today, in both a legal and philosophical sense, the natural right theory as a justification for copyright faces several seemingly insurmountable problems. First of all, a natural right cannot be removed. It is, in the words of Jefferson in the Declaration of Independence, “inalienable,” and was widely viewed as such at the time of the Constitution’s drafting. Yet copyright is limited in term: it disappears after some length of time, no matter how long Congress chooses to make that term. Second, the concept of “work for hire,” currently enshrined in U.S. copyright law, disconnects the actual authors of a work from ownership rights in the work, e.g., in the Toy Story example above. This could not happen with a natural right—the author would still be the author no matter who the employer might be. Furthermore, “moral rights”7 are a part of a natural right to the product of one’s inspiration. Yet, with the limited exception of creators of visual art mentioned in the U.S. Copyright Act, S. 106a, authors in the U.S. have no moral rights to their work, while authors in most continental European countries do. When the copyright passes from the author to another entity in the U.S., so does the complete control over use of that work, no matter what effect a subsequent use by the new rights holder may have upon the integrity of the work itself, or upon the reputation of the author. This is not the stuff of a natural right. Perhaps then, the Constitutional “Right” is a property right? If so, what kind of property is involved in the right? This discussion rages on, with the spectrum of opinion ranging from an author’s rights being full blown property rights bestowed by nature and not limitable in any way (Nozick, 1974) to a more mainstream a vision of “intellectual property” (a rather recent term which seems to settle the debate before it is begun) being a type of property just like physical property governed by Wesley Hohfield’s “bundle of rights” theories (Lipton, 2004) to views of intellectual property as a sort of “semi-commons” (Heverely, 2003) to the idea that an author’s right to copyright protection is not an absolute property right at all (Mitchell, 2005). It is a rare volume of a law journal even today that does not contain at least a few pages dealing with some aspect or other of one of these views, yet it is clear that the dominant rhetorical position in the U.S. is that “intellectual property” is, when all is said and done, real property, pure and simple. But if the “Right” referred to in the Constitution is, in fact, a property right, how do we comfortably include the idea of compulsory licensing into this view? Compulsory licensing, currently written into copyright law in the U.S. for music, shifts a key aspect of an author’s property right—the right to refuse access—to a liability right, the right to compensation. (Mitchell, 2005) One could argue that the fact of compulsory licensing does nothing to reduce the claim that intellectual property is property. Can not “real estate” property be taken with compensation through eminent domain? While defenders of authorial rights as property rights could make this claim, they generally do not, and with good reason. Eminent domain is exercised by the body politic when a private holding is so critical to the social good that private ownership must give way to the public good. This, in the case of knowledge embodied in copyrighted works, leads property rights advocates down a very slippery slope very quickly. If the justification for compulsory licensing is the same as that of eminent domain, then any type of knowledge or creation that society, after due process and deliberation, decided was critically important for the public good could be taken from private ownership by the same process, whether the rationale is expressed as eminent domain or as compulsory licensing. In either case, the author’s property right disappears by fiat and is replaced by a liability right to compensation. Inherent but seldom discussed in debates about the nature of the author’s right is the question of why the U.S. government, as the representative of the body politic, should enforce the economic value of an authorial right. The underlying assumption must be that the works produced by authors have social value as well as economic value because ensuring social value—“Progress”—is the state’s work, as Article 1, Section 8 suggests. Determining economic value is the market’s work. Both eminent domain and compulsory licensing bring this unspoken, and, it seems today, largely forgotten assumption to the fore in cases when the social value of some “property” is needed immediately by society, and therefore an individual’s property right is terminated for the greater good. Although the justification for compulsory licensing of music has to date been different from that of eminent domain, the outcome is the same: the owner loses control of access—a core right of private property—and is left with compensation at a rate decided by the government rather than by the market. There is no legal reason to prevent us from looking at compulsory licensing in the same way that we look at eminent domain. In short, “works made for hire,” compulsory licensing, and limitation of term all seem to belie claims of the existence of either a natural right or full property rights for authors. How then can we justify copyright, especially the wide scope and long duration embodied in current law? Incentives, Authors, and Social Value Those who champion the current copyright regime still may respond that even if we cannot designate with a high level of confidence either a “natural right” or a full “property right” as the authorial “Right” in the Constitution or in current copyright law, we can at least claim with confidence that whatever the true nature of that right may be, it is still necessary “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts,” that is, to create social value. And that is precisely why the government must be involved in enforcing (“securing”) that right. However wobbly the philosophical justification for an author’s right may be, the economic fact is that there would be no incentive for authors to create works of social value absent the economic incentive that copyright provides, and that fact in itself is justification for copyright as it presently exists. This is an empirical claim, and so its validity deserves to be tested empirically. While the underlying Constitutional justification for both copyright and patents arises from the same source, the way that we treat “Authors and Inventors” in terms of generating “Progress” is astonishingly different. To get a patent, an inventor must demonstrate novelty, utility, and non- obviousness. An author, at present, must demonstrate that a work has been fixed in a tangible medium and, essentially, that it has not been copied.8 No demonstration of utility is required. As we have seen, the courts have been hesitant to make any sort of judgments about “creative” works in part because, in Justice Holmes’ words: “it would be a dangerous undertaking for persons trained only in law to constitute themselves final judges of the worth of pictorial illustrations.” (Bleistein v. Donaldson Lithography Co., 188 U.S. 239 (1903)) That sentiment seems to have found its way into statute as well. Efforts to require an “appreciable amount of creative authorship” were rejected during the omnibus version of the 1909 [Copyright] Act, with Congress expressly stating that the test of originality “does not include requirements of novelty, ingenuity, or aesthetic merit, and there is no intention to enlarge the standard of copyright protection to require them.” As under the 1909 Act, “original” under the 1976 Act means “little more than a prohibition of actual copying.” (Patry, 1986, references omitted) Thus, while inventions must demonstrate, at least in theory, some sort of usefulness or social value, and the invention becomes available to the public domain in 20 years, copyrighted works have no such social value determination made as a condition of granting copyright and are kept from public domain use, generally today for well over 100 years. And, of course, works eligible for copyright are not limited to the “pictorial illustrations” Holmes was referring to in a particular case. They now can include the house chores list scrawled on the back of a napkin, the email note saying “remove me from your spam list,” and all the doodles made by millions of bored students in textbook margins all over the country. One might reasonably ask: where is the social value, where is the “Progress” in these protected works? That is, after all, the assumed justification for such all encompassing grants of economic rights under copyright. The answer is certainly not to be found in any determination made by the legal community: Everyone agrees that the purpose of the copyright system is to promote progress. At the same time, though, skepticism about the law's ability to define the substance of progress runs deep within copyright case law and theory. Legal decision makers and scholars have quite properly doubted their own ability to evaluate artistic or literary merit, and have worried that efforts to do so would result in an inappropriately elitist and conservative standard. In addition, there is room for substantial debate about whether the metaphor of forward motion leaves out other important measures of what "progress" is or might be…This agnosticism about prospects for value-neutrality has led copyright law and scholarship to eschew debates about the substance of progress in favor of debates about rule structures for enabling progress. (Cohen, 2000) We face here the first problem in the claim that the economic incentives offered by copyright are necessary to promote progress, and to use the full force of state power to enforce those economic incentives given to authors. If there is no “Progress” created through a work, what justifies the grant of copyright? Certainly not the Constitution, based on the specific “means- ends” language construction of Article 1, Section 8. But even if we were to grant that the notion of “progress” is in the same definitional category as pornography and, reasoning in an analogous way to Justice Stewart’s famous dictum, “we may not be able to define progress but we know it when we see it,” another major problem remains for the claim that economic incentives are necessary for authors to create works of social value. That problem is straightforward, even if the definition of progress is not: there is no empirical proof that this is the case, and, in fact, there is a good bit of empirical proof to the contrary. Eben Moglen speaks of a (somewhat) imaginary creature called an “econodwarf” who assumes that no author does anything except for economic gain, a strong version of the “need for incentives” position. This position, he finds, is simply not defensible in the face of experience: “But no matter how often he hears Don Giovanni it never occurs to him that Mozart’s fate should, on this logic, have entirely discouraged Beethoven, or that we have The Magic Flute even though Mozart knew very well he wouldn’t be paid.” (Moglen, 1999) While it may be extreme to say that authors never produce anything for other than economic benefit, it might be reasonable to take a somewhat weaker position that claims that there would not be an adequate supply of creative works in the absence of the economic incentives that copyright provides to authors. The problem with this assertion is that there is currently no cogent economic theory nor any significant empirical evidence that demonstrates that it is true. In addition, relatively little is known about what motivates people to engage in creative activity and how those influences differ from the perhaps more pecuniary motivations of those who acquire the copyright to creative works for purposes of reproduction and distribution. In other words, economic theory has not yet specified a “creative production function.” That is not to argue that copyright protection is not important to the financial ability of individual creators to devote themselves to their craft. Economists may with some confidence predict that abolishing copyright protection altogether would reduce the level and quality of creative output. However, they cannot easily predict exactly how a less dramatic change in compensating copyright owners—through differential pricing schemes, for example—would affect the number or quality of creative works being produced and distributed. … Creators, for example, may be more likely than distributors to be motivated by nonpecuniary factors—creative drive, a desire for attribution and recognition, and the need to ensure the integrity of their work, for example—while distributors may be more likely to respond to monetary incentives. As a result, the existence of copyright—in particular, exclusive rights over subsequent use—may simply motivate distributors of copyrighted works to engage in marketing and promotional activity, which do little to ensure the future supply of creative works. (Congressional Budget Office, 2004, references omitted) In fact, there is a rich body of research literature that bears out the fact that authors create for many reasons of their own, and that economic motivations, while part of the mix of reasons, are often near the bottom of the list. Literature on volunteering in general is extensive and consistent: people are willing to contribute a great amount of energy and creativity for other than economic reasons.9 But, arguably, motivations for volunteering to help the Boy Scouts or a church group may not be the same as those of creating a copyrightable work. However, there is also a rich body of literature about motivations for contributing to open source software. Software has been copyrightable under U.S. law since 1983, and so offers a direct source of evidence that economic benefits are not a prime motivator, if they are a motivator at all, for the tens of thousands of people who contribute to a copyrightable product, open source software. Open source software, which largely runs the Internet server infrastructure today, seems to be a much greater creator of social value than a private grocery list, and its authors do not seek economic incentives to create. Academic theorizing on individual motivations for participating in F/OSS [Free/Open Source Software] projects has posited that external motivational factors in the form of extrinsic benefits (e.g.; better jobs, career advancement) are the main drivers of effort. We find, in contrast, that enjoyment-based intrinsic motivation, namely how creative a person feels when working on the project, is the strongest and most pervasive driver. We also find that user need, intellectual stimulation derived from writing code, and improving programming skills are top motivators for project participation. (Lakhani and Wolf 2005) This general comment summarizes the conclusions of many researchers (e.g., see Hars, 2002, Hertel, 2003, among others). Numerous theories to explain this phenomenon are currently under investigation, ranging from applications of anthropological theories of “gift economies” (Zeitlyn, 2003) to social network theory (Madey, Freeh, and Tynan, 2002) to leadership theory (Wynn, 2004). Why this phenomenon not only has occurred but is growing is not the point here. Rather, for our purposes, the importance is that there is clearly empirical evidence that contradicts even the weak assertion that, in the absence of copyright’s present incentives for authors, there would be a significant underproduction of creative works of social value. Other empirical evidence against this assertion exists in the well over 50 million creative works licensed through the Creative Commons (www.creativecommones.org) whose authors specifically choose to create and distribute their works in the absence of some or all of copyright’s protections. The growing importance of the Open Access Scholarly Publishing movement and the existence of academic publishing in general also cast doubt on the exclusive—or even primary—role of economic incentives in the production of many new creative works of social value. In sum, empirical evidence invalidates blanket assertions of the necessity of economic incentives to encourage the production of new creative works. Economic theory itself also casts doubt on the effectiveness of copyright’s current scope and incentives in producing social value. In economic terms, a rights grant which is too monopolistic, especially in the absence of any way to determine whether a new work does generate social value or progress, is likely to attract too many resources to produce such monopolistically protected works at the expense of “non-works”—non-copyrightable products such as toothpicks or automobiles or even purely factual databases. Determining copyright's optimal scope therefore requires a determination of how much and what sort of protection copyright needs to provide to address those differences between works and non-work products that would, in the absence of legal protection, likely lead the market to underproduce works of authorship. To address those differences, copyright must provide that degree of protection which will lead an individual to expect roughly the same price for her resources whether invested in a work or a non-work product, when the two investments generate roughly the same social value. While limited, the available empirical evidence, together with a common sense analysis of the relevant differences between works and non-work products, suggests that copyright should prohibit only exact or near-exact duplication and certain nontransformative derivative uses of a copyrighted work to ensure such a fair price. Providing such protection should tend to ensure a consonance between price and marginal social value that will lead individuals to devote their talents and resources to the highest- valued use, whether that be the creation of additional works or additional non- work products. Providing copyrighted works more extensive protection would be undesirable—not because it would limit access to the resulting works, though it may do that as well—but because it would draw resources into the production of additional works when those resources would otherwise have been more valuably used elsewhere in our economy. (Lunney, 1996) Boldrin and Levine (2002) point out another dimension of copyright’s economic problem. This one, the increasing ability of copyright owners to control after sale use of a work through copy protection, they view as “especially pernicious because the potential economic damage – think of abolishing all computers because they can be used to pirate music – bears no relationship to the underlying value that is being protected.” Once again, the question of progress and social value comes to the fore, and whether on empirical grounds or on theoretical economic grounds, copyright’s economic incentives are, at best, not clearly established as effective in stimulating authors to create new works; or, at worst, proven ineffective for achieving the Constitutional mandate “To promote the Progress of Science and useful Arts.” So we arrive at the realization that the rhetoric about the role and rights of the author and about the need for large economic incentives for authors to produce new works is empirically unverifiable rhetoric. Even if that is so, why does that matter for our system of copyright? The Disconnect Between Policy and Implementation As we now see, the Romantic visions of the author that are rhetorically used to justify extensive rights for authors under copyright simply do not correspond with the present practice of copyright. The deference to “genius” that motivated the distinction between a 20 year grant of patent and the 100+ years granted to copyright owners, even if defensible as a reward for genius, simply does not apply to a mundane grocery list. Under the law, the grocery list receives just as much protection as the work of the Pulitzer Prize winner, yet the rhetorical justification—and often court decisions and congressional debates as well—assumes that every new “work” is “literature for the ages” (or at least has social value and forwards progress) rather than that some are simple lists of today’s grocery items, even if the ordering is “original.” How and why this happens is an interesting question, but one which is beyond the scope of this conversation. However, an observation by Debora Halbert offers a suggestion of a possible cause that would be recognized by James Boyle, Jessica Litman, Mark Rose, and others, although Halbert gives more credence to the Romantic vision of authorship than the others would. Halbert is speaking about software but the point applies to any copyrightable type of work: I do not wish to argue that writing software is uncreative or inartistic. Rather, my point is that the creative genius of the individual author is developed in order to make arguments of copyright fit, then creativity and authorship is undermined and obscured by the large industries that actually own this property. In essence, the romantic myth of authorship may have validity, but within the vast complex of industrial production it is merely a ploy used to perpetuate a certain economic situation. Within the private property/legal nexus the assumption that protection and proprietary rewards are needed to encourage individuals to create is used to perpetuate intellectual property regimes. The proprietary author is naturalized and the fact that many individuals are not motivated by profit is obscured. Furthermore, virtually all disadvantages cited are in terms of dollars lost…. Again, like the booksellers of old, those who own the means of dissemination benefit from the process. (Halbert, 1994, references omitted) The creation of a “work made for hire” category in copyright law lends support to this view. While more and more copyrights are issued for corporate “works made for hire,” products in which the actual authors have no right, the justification for these copyrights nonetheless continues to rest on the Romantic idea of the individual genius creating ex nihilo for the benefit of all of society. If we are to hold to the current justifications of copyright, we must not only grant that the “genius of the individual author” argument still holds in the age of “works made for hire,” we must also grant that the individual genius, while producing ex nihilo works of great social value is doing so only because of the economic incentives copyright offers. The fact that this claim has never been demonstrated to be true, and that evidence suggests it may very well be false, is beside the rhetorical point. From a policy perspective, we must recognize that we have a copyright system which, as implemented, is simply unbelievable based on its justification of granting authors rights and on the necessity of economic incentives. This disconnect is taking its toll. The well known phenomenon of a populace simply ignoring laws that it finds unbelievable may, for example, be contributing to the current alleged widespread violation of copyright in the digital realm. But whether or not that is the case, it is quite clear that battles are raging over whether copyright is just to users as well as owners, whether it is effective in actually making available creative products of social value,10 and over the level of involvement the state should have in its enforcement—even to the point of drastically distorting the free market through legislation mandating how digital machinery must be constructed. In short, the current U.S. copyright system is under a high degree of stress. Recommended Policy Approaches to Relieve the Stress on Copyright In order to build a justification for copyright that fits today’s facts rather than the other way around, we suggest using the following operating principles: 1. Make policy justification and policy implementation coherent. We should simply drop the justification of copyright based on the Romantic natural rights of the genius author. If that depiction was ever true—and that is doubtful—it is no longer true in the age of corporate copyright owners and “works made for hire.” The primary actors in the copyright bargain are not authors but owners, who increasingly are different. 2. Take the Constitution seriously and actually require that copyright provisions do, in fact, “promote Progress.” Make this the measure for granting of rights, not merely whether something was not copied and was fixed in a tangible medium. As Lenney’s analysis above suggests, we need to empirically discover which copyright provisions will promote what amount of social value under what conditions. This must be an experimental process, not a process based on assumptions as it is now. (Drahos, 1996) We will need to develop metrics that are tracked and that can serve as input to fact-based copyright policy decisions. It will not be easy but it will be necessary to do sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner. 3. Treat materials that can be protected by copyright as sui generis, and develop an author’s (or, practically speaking, owner’s) “exclusive Right” on that basis. The metaphor of real property carries too much baggage to be useful any longer: drop it from the copyright vocabulary and recognize that: copyright law is neither tort law nor property law in classification, but is statutory law. It neither cuts across existing rights in property or conduct nor falls in between rights and obligations heretofore existing in the common law. Copyright legislation simply creates rights and obligations upon the terms and in the circumstances set out in the statute. (Supreme Court of Canada in Compo Co. Ltd. V. Blue Crest Music Inc, quoted in Lemley, 2004) 4. Fit the rights conferred to the desired end. Adopt a de minimus principle as the default principle for granting owner’s rights under copyright, i.e., make the rights only as extensive as necessary to produce the desired level of new works of social value. 5. Explicitly recognize the role of the public domain as the source of raw material for the creation of new works, and decide how the public domain is to be continually replenished in a timely way. Include explicit recognition of the existence and role of the public domain, and of the author’s relationship to the public domain in statute (Mitchell, 2005). Since no one ever creates new works completely out of nothing, we can just as easily look at authorship as a case of appropriating common resources for private use as envisioning authorship as a case of inspirational genius. We need to recognize the contributions of authors but not exaggerate their value in relation to the public domain. 6. Eliminate or define the criterion of “originality” with respect to “authorship.” If “original” in the context of copyright means simply “not copied,” we should say so. If it means something else, we must say clearly what that is. We cannot hold to the current conception of “original” as the term is used in copyright either logically or practically: Originality is a conceit, but we like it. To the extent that we are tempted to forget that originality is a conceit, it can be a dangerous principle on which to base a system of property…. Because authors necessarily reshape the prior works of others, a vision of authorship as original creation from nothing—and of authors as casting up truly new creations from their innermost being—is both flawed and misleading. If we took this vision seriously, we could not grant authors copyrights without first dissecting their creative processes to pare elements adapted from the works of others from the later authors' recasting of them. This dissection would be both impossible and unwelcome. If we eschewed this vision but nonetheless adhered unswervingly to the concept of originality, we would have to allow the author of almost any work to be enjoined by the owner of the copyright in another. (Litman, 1990) 7. Identify all parties to the social contract of copyright and affirmatively state what the rights and responsibilities of each are. State all rights affirmatively, e.g., “users have a right to read anonymously;” not simply as defenses, e.g., “fair use.” The parties in the social contract must include at least copyright owners and users of copyrighted materials. Some distinction between the original author and the present copyright owner, where applicable, would also be desirable. We may wish to include the public domain or the society represented by the state as parties. 8. Realize that one size does not necessarily fit all. Owners may not be authors, corporations are not people, a grocery list is not The Sun Also Rises. For example, Jane Ginsburg speaks of informational works of high authorship (perhaps a narrative history of copyright) or low authorship (perhaps a database of weather information over a decade) and suggests that copyright for the two types should diverge at the point of control over derivative works. (Ginsburg 1990, examples ours) Richard Stallman has suggested that works of fiction be treated differently from non-fiction works for purposes of copyright. (Stallman, 2003) Whatever the detail decided upon, the policy principle should always go back to the central issue: what is necessary to generate social value? Conclusion The present U.S. copyright system is under great stress, stress exacerbated by digital technology. While part of this stress is, as it always has been, the challenge of adjusting copyright to new technologies, a major source of stress is the disconnect between policy justification and policy implementation when it comes to conceptions of “Authors,” and the assumptions about the incentives necessary to meet the stated objective of Article 1, Section 8 of the Constitution. The U.S. copyright system would best be served by abandoning the non-functional and non- factual justifications for copyright protection used today, and by adopting a coherent set of copyright justifications and implementations which correspond to one another and to today’s realities. We have suggested some operating principles upon which such a system could be constructed. A copyright system based on those principles would better serve the Constitutional end which copyright is, after all, designed to accomplish, “the Progress of Science and useful Arts.” Notes 1. Section 201 of the Copyright Act recognizes “works made for hire” as “original works of authorship,” and vests copyright protection in “the employer or other person for whom the work was prepared,” in this example, Disney or Pixar. That fiction does not speak to the question of who actually “authored” the work in the way that the term author is usually used in discussions of copyright. 2. See especially Boyle and Mitchell for extended discussion of this topic. 3. There are a number of works which trace the history and development of the concept of the author and the implications for copyright, among them Boyle, Litman, Mitchell, Woodmansee, and Rose. The emphasis in this paper is not on the historical development but on the effects of that history today. 4. As Martha Woodmansee points out, the philosopher Johann Gottlieb Fichte in 1793 separated a book into “physical” and “ideal” components and then divided the ideal further into the “material” aspect, or content, and the “form,” the specific “phrasing and wording” an author uses. We are still splitting idea/expression hairs today in U.S. jurisprudence. 5. “Eighteenth-century France witnessed the emergence not of one modern position on the nature of the author and his relation to the text (i.e., the property-bearing individual) but rather of a modern tension between Diderot's conception of the author as the original creator and hence inviolable proprietor of his works and Condorcet's depiction of the ideal author as the passive midwife to the disclosure of objective knowledge.” (Halbert, references omitted) 6. It is interesting to see that opinion expressed even today. Noel Paul Stookey (Paul of Peter, Paul, and Mary) wrote the best selling of piece of sheet music of the past two decades, The Wedding Song. He never made a penny from royalties since he felt the song just came to or through him—in his words: “Into every songwriter’s life comes a song, the source of which cannot be explained by personal experience.” He established the Public Domain Foundation to channel the song’s significant royalties to charity. http://www.pdfoundation.org. 7. “Moral rights” are rights now codified in the Berne Convention: “Independently of the author's economic rights, and even after the transfer of the said rights, the author shall have the right to claim authorship of the work and to object to any distortion, mutilation or other modification of, or other derogatory action in relation to, the said work, which would be prejudicial to his honor or reputation.” Berne Convention for the Protection of Literary and Artistic Works, September 9, 1886, art. 6bis, S. Treaty Doc. No. 27, 99th Cong., 2d Sess. 41 (1986). These rights are not fully recognized in U.S. Copyright law even though the U.S. is now a signatory to the Berne Convention. 8. Learned Hand’s famous description still holds: “Borrowed the work must indeed not be, for a plagiarist is not himself pro tanto an "author"; but if by some magic a man who had never known it were to compose a new Keat's Ode on a Grecian Urn, he would be an "author," and, if he copyrighted it, others might not copy that poem, though they might of course copy Keats's.” (Sheldon v. Metro-Goldwyn Pictures Corp., 81 F.2d 49 (2d Cir. 1936), aff'd, 309 U.S. 390 (1940)) 9. See, for example, Reimer et al, Motivations for Volunteering with Youth-Oriented Programs. 10. For example, many works published and abandoned by their copyright owners are unavailable and will remain so for decades under current law. As one example, 187,280 book titles were originally published between 1927-1946. In 2002, 4267 of those were still available for purchase from publishers. The other 180,000+ are still under copyright, some for decades to come. They are not only inaccessible at any price but also often not even traceable if someone wishes to obtain permission for use for a copyright protected purpose. (Schultz 2005) References Boldrin, M., & Levine, D. (2002). The Case Against Intellectual Property. American Economic Review Papers and Proceedings, 92, 209-212. Boyle, J. (1996). Shamans, Software, and Spleens. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Cohen, J. E. (2000). Copyright and the Perfect Curve. Vanderbilt Law Review, 53,1799-1819. Congressional Budget Office. (2004). Copyright Issues in Digital Media. Washington DC: U.S. Congress. Drahos, P. (1996). A Philosophy of Intellectual Property. Aldershot: Dartmouth. Emerson, R. W. (1884). The Poet. In Essays: Second Series. Retrived July 15 2005, from http://www.emersoncentral.com/poet.htm. Ginsburg, J. C. (1990). Creation and Commercial Value: Copyright Protection of Works of Information. Columbia Law Review 90,1865-1938. Goldstein, P. (1991). Copyright. Journal of the Copyright Society of the U.S.A., 38, 109-110. Halbert, D. (1994). Computer Technology and Legal Discourse: The Potential for Modern Communication Technology to Challenge Legal Discourses of Authorship and Property. Retrieved July 5 2005, from www.murdoch.edu.au/elaw/issues/v1n2/halbert12.html. Hars, A., & Ou, S. (2002). Working for Free? Motivations for Participating in Open-Source Projects. International Journal of Electronic Commerce, 6 (3), 25-39. Hertel, G, Niedner, S., & Herrmann, S. (2003). Motivation of Software Developers in Open Source Projects: An Internet-based Survey of Contributors to the Linux Kernel. Research Policy, 32, 1159-77. Heverly, R. A. (2003). The Information Semicommons. Berkeley Technology Law Journal, 18,1127–1189. Lakhani, K, & Wolf, R. G. (2005). Why Hackers Do What They Do: Understanding Motivation and Effort in Free/Open Source Software Projects. In J. Feller, B. Fitzgerald, S. Hissam and K. R. Lakhan. Perspectives on Free and Open Source Software. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Lemley, M. "Property, Intellectual Property, and Free Riding." (2004). Working Paper No. 291, John M. Olin Program in Law and Economics, Stanford Law School. Retrieved Jul 1, 2005, from http://ssrn.com/abstract=582602. Lipton, J. (2004). Information Property: Rights and Responsibilities. Florida Law Review, 56 (1),140. Litman, J.. (1990). The Public Domain. Emory Law Journal, 39 (Fall), 965-1023. Lunney, G S., Jr. (1996). Reexamining Copyright's Incentives-Access Paradigm. Vanderbilt Law Review, 49, 483-656. Madey, G, Freeh, V. & Tynan, R. (2002). The Open Source Software Development Phenomenon: An Analysis Based on Social Network Theory. Paper read at Eighth Americas Conference on Information Systems, Dallas, TX. Mitchell, H. C. (2005). The Intellectual Commons: Toward an Ecology of Intellectual Property. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Moglen, E. (2003). Freeing the Mind: Free Software and the Death of Proprietary Culture. Paper read at Fourth Annual Technology and Law Conference, Portland, Maine. Moglen, E. (1999). Anarchism Triumphant: Free Software and the Death of Copyright, First Monday. August 2, 1999, Retrieved July 12, 2005, from http://www.firstmonday.org/issues/issue4_8/moglen/index.html. Nozick, Robert. (1974). Anarchy, State and Utopia. Boston: Basic Books. Patry, W F. (1986). Latman's The Copyright Law. Sixth ed. Washington DC: The Bureau of National Affairs, Inc. Riemer, H. A. et al. (2004). Motivations for Volunteering with Youth-Oriented Programs. Toronto: Canadian Centre for Philanthropy. Rose, M. (1993). Authors and Owners: The Invention of Copyright. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Schultz, J. (2005). The Myth of the 1977 Copyright “Chaos” Theory. Retrieved July 1, 2005, from www.lessig.org/blog/archives/jasonfinal.pdf. Stallman, R.. (2003). Copyright vs. Community in the Age of Computer Networks. Paper read at Fourth Annual Technology and Law Conference, at Portland, Maine. Woodmansee, M. 1984. The Genius and the Copyright: Economic and Legal Conditions of the Emergence of the 'Author'. Eighteenth Century Studies, 17(4),425-448. Wynn, D. E., Jr. (2004). Leadership and Motivation in Open Source Projects. Paper read at 7th Annual Conference of the Southern Association for Information Systems, Atlanta, GA. Zeitlyn, D. (2003). Gift Economies in the Development of Open Source Software: Anthropological Reflections. Policy Research, 32, 1287-1291. 
work_omw3r6ai45gnpl7xgclz72e7ua	----	[PDF] New Advances in Urogynecology | Semantic Scholar Skip to search formSkip to main content> Semantic Scholar's Logo Search Sign InCreate Free Account You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. DOI:10.1155/2012/453059 Corpus ID: 5880820New Advances in Urogynecology @article{Lowenstein2012NewAI, title={New Advances in Urogynecology}, author={L. Lowenstein and P. L. Rosenblatt and H. Dietz and J. Bitzer and K. Kenton}, journal={Obstetrics and Gynecology International}, year={2012}, volume={2012} } L. Lowenstein, P. L. Rosenblatt, +2 authors K. Kenton Published 2012 Medicine Obstetrics and Gynecology International Pelvic floor disorders, including urinary incontinence, pelvic organ prolapse (POP), and bowel dysfunction, affect millions of women worldwide resulting in considerable cost and quality of life impact. One-third of all women will suffer from these disorders at some point in their lives [1–5]. Significant research efforts are underway to improve our understanding of the pathophysiology, optimal evaluation, and effective treatment for women with pelvic floor disorders. More than ever before… Expand View PDF Save to Library Create Alert Cite Launch Research Feed Share This Paper 1 CitationsBackground Citations 1 View All Topics from this paper Urinary Incontinence Urinary Stress Incontinence Pelvic Floor Disorders Ptosis Pelvic Organ Prolapse Pessaries Mesenchymal Stem Cells Uterine Prolapse Intestinal Diseases Neck of urinary bladder Scientific Publication Pelvic viscus Erectile dysfunction Obstetrics and gynecology (clinical specialty) Urination radiofrequency Pelvic Inflammatory Disease Congenital Abnormality Vagina Buschke-Lowenstein Tumor Manuscripts Uterus Morbidity - disease rate Proximal Urethra notification One Citation Citation Type Citation Type All Types Cites Results Cites Methods Cites Background Has PDF Publication Type Author More Filters More Filters Filters Sort by Relevance Sort by Most Influenced Papers Sort by Citation Count Sort by Recency Cellular mechanisms of emerging applications of mesenchymal stem cells. P. Mok, C. Leong, S. Cheong Biology, Medicine The Malaysian journal of pathology 2013 34 PDF View 1 excerpt, cites background Save Alert Research Feed References SHOWING 1-10 OF 266 REFERENCES SORT BYRelevance Most Influenced Papers Recency Pelvic floor dysfunction: a conceptual framework for collaborative patient-centred care. Kathryn Davis, D. Kumar Medicine Journal of advanced nursing 2003 85 Save Alert Research Feed Functional bowel and anorectal disorders in patients with pelvic organ prolapse and incontinence. J. E. Jelovsek, M. Barber, M. Paraiso, M. Walters Medicine American journal of obstetrics and gynecology 2005 100 Save Alert Research Feed Patterns of constipation in urogynecology: clinical importance and pathophysiologic insights. M. Soligo, S. Salvatore, +4 authors R. Milani Medicine American journal of obstetrics and gynecology 2006 35 Save Alert Research Feed The standardization of terminology of female pelvic organ prolapse and pelvic floor dysfunction. R. Bump, A. Mattiasson, +5 authors A. Smith Medicine American journal of obstetrics and gynecology 1996 3,414 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Urodynamic effects of reducing devices in women with genital prolapse T. Mattox, N. Bhatia Medicine International Urogynecology Journal 2004 18 Save Alert Research Feed Surgical management of pelvic organ prolapse in women. C. Maher, B. Feiner, K. Baessler, E. Adams, S. Hagen, C. Glazener Medicine The Cochrane database of systematic reviews 2010 872 Save Alert Research Feed Is there a pelvic organ prolapse threshold that predicts pelvic floor symptoms? R. Gutman, Daniel E Ford, L. Quiroz, S. Shippey, V. Handa Medicine American journal of obstetrics and gynecology 2008 115 Save Alert Research Feed Changes in connective tissue in patients with pelvic organ prolapse—a review of the current literature M. H. Kerkhof, L. Hendriks, H. Brölmann Medicine International Urogynecology Journal 2008 163 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Animal models of female stress urinary incontinence. A. Hijaz, F. Daneshgari, Karl-Dietrich Sievert, M. Damaser Medicine The Journal of urology 2008 67 Save Alert Research Feed Correlation of symptoms with location and severity of pelvic organ prolapse. R. Ellerkmann, G. Cundiff, C. Melick, M. Nihira, K. Leffler, A. Bent Medicine American journal of obstetrics and gynecology 2001 448 Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 5 ... Related Papers Abstract Topics 1 Citations 266 References Related Papers Stay Connected With Semantic Scholar Sign Up About Semantic Scholar Semantic Scholar is a free, AI-powered research tool for scientific literature, based at the Allen Institute for AI. 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work_opd3eqyvmbcrhkpahprrncktbu	----	Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 60 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 RESUMEN Se presentan los orígenes del método abductivo en el romanticismo oscuro estadounidense. Sus implicancias semióticas como método de investigación científica. Se replantea el problema semiótico en una actualidad trans e intercultural llamada desglobalización. Por último se presenta el método abductivo como ejemplo de una metodología de investigación en la carrera de Interpretación y Docencia Musical Especializada de la Universidad de Talca, Chile. Palabras Clave: Método Abductivo, Romanticismo, Semiótica, Hermenéutica ABSTRACT The origins of the abductive method in American dark romanticism are presented. Its semiotic implications as a method of scientific research. The semiotic problem is reconsidered in a trans and intercultural news called deglobalization. Finally, the abductive method is presented as an example of a research methodology in the Specialized Musical Interpretation and Teaching career at the University of Talca, Chile. Keywords: Abductive Method, Romanticism, Semiotics, Hermeneutics Revista NEUMA ISSN 0719-5389 • Año 12 Volumen 1 • Universidad de Talca 61 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization Pp. 60 a 75 * Correo electrónico jasoto@utalca.cl Artículo recibido el 22-12-2018 y aceptado por el comité editorial el 27/05/2019 EL MÉTODO ABDUCTIVO DE INVESTIGACIÓN CIENTÍFICA. SUS ORÍGENES EN EL ROMANTICISMO OSCURO ESTADOUNIDENSE Y ALGUNAS REFLEXIONES Y EJEMPLOS EN TORNO A CONTEXTOS MULTICULTURALES Y LA ENSEÑANZA DE LA MÚSICA EN LA DESGLOBALIZACIÓN THE ABDUCTIVE METHOD OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH. ITS ORIGINS IN US DARK ROMANTICISM AND SOME REFLECTIONS AND EXAMPLES REGARDING MULTICULTURAL CONTEXTS AND THE TEACHING OF MUSIC IN DEGLOBALIZATION Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas Universidad de Talca Chile* Introducción: El presente artículo explora el origen del método abductivo de investigación en el llamado romanticismo oscuro norteamericano (estadounidense) del siglo XIX, específicamente en obra de Edgar Allan Poe y sus cuentos y novelas de investigación detectivesca como “Los Cuentos de la Rue Morgue” (1841), “El Misterio de Marie Rogêt” (1842) y “La Carta Robada” (1844), en las cuales participa el detective Agustin Dupine, modelo posteriormente utilizado por el mundialmente famoso personaje Sherlock Holmes del escritor Arthur Conan Doyle para sus tramas de investigación detectivesca. En ese sentido se explora el método abductivo como una herramienta de pensamiento legítima, surgida durante el periodo conocido como el Dark Romanticism. Posteriormente se analiza los diversos tipos de abducción hipotética Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 62 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 1 Entendemos por “Desglobalización” al estrato de tiempo actual (2018/2019), considerando como tal, la actualidad relativa al desgaste de la hegemonía de los EEUU luego de la crisis financiera del 2008 y el crecimiento constante de las migraciones globales producto de los procesos de descolonización en África, Centro América y Medio Oriente. El surgimiento de las identidades étnicas subalternas y sus demandas de representaciones políticas como por ejemplo el pueblo mapuche, palestino y kurdo. Así como el surgimiento de nuevas hegemonías políticas y económicas como China, todo esto en el marco de un proceso de destrucción acelerada del medio ambiente y de cambio climático global con el resultado de las llamadas Crisis de las Migraciones. Sobre el término Desglobalización ver: Ibarra, Manuel (2008). “Alfredo Jalife-Rahme. Hacia la Desglobalización”, Revista Estudios Fronterizos, Vol. 9, Nº 17, pp. 197-202. propuestos por el filósofo estadounidense Charles Sanders Pierce, respecto de su teoría semiótica, en la cual propone la existencia de tres planos de relaciones semiótico-textuales. Las relaciones dadas entre signo, interpretante y contexto. En este sentido, el filósofo propone tres niveles en el proceso de semiosis, pasos previos a la construcción de hipótesis abductivas, a saber; la primeridad, donde el concepto o signo existe en estado puro del Ser, la Segundidad, donde el concepto o signo existe en relación a un sujeto interpretante, y una Terceridad, donde el concepto o signo existe en el plano de relación del sujeto y su contexto. En el sentido anterior, reflexionamos en la implicancia que tiene para la semiótica el actual contexto multicultural del periodo de post-globalización o desglobalización1, pues por ejemplo, es muy distinto enseñar e investigar sobre música en el contexto europeo-occidental, que en el contexto global multicultural, donde existen músicas de otras culturas, como por ejemplo la mapuche, que posee diferentes concepciones del tiempo o del espacio, o de la música oriental, con sus microtonos y su especial sonoridad. En ese sentido proponemos una hermenéutica diatópica según la propuesta epistemológica de Soussa Santos basada en el diálogo transcultural. En seguida proponemos una cuarteridad, o cuarta etapa en el proceso de semiosis, donde el signo es hermenéuticamente leído diatópicamente, superando la hegemonía ideológica del positivismo cultural occidental univocista, en una época de desglobalización con individuos de dos o más identidades. Finalmente, y luego de los anteriores planteamientos teóricos, ejemplificamos la aplicación metodológica del modelo abductivo, en la investigación en múeica llevada a cabo en la carrera de Interpretación y Docencia Musical Especializada en la Universidad de Talca en Chile. Desarrollo El Romanticismo Oscuro o Dark Romanticism, tiene su cuna en la sociedad estadounidense del siglo XIX. En general, es un movimiento influenciado por el romanticismo europeo de fines del siglo XVIII y principios del XIX, aunque también, en Estados Unidos fue influenciado por los autores adscritos al llamado Trascendentalismo, sistema filosófico, político y literario surgido como reforma dentro de la Iglesia Unitaria. La propuesta trascendentalista estaba basada en El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 63 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 2 Hernández, Gloria (2009). “El Proceso de Recepción de The American Scholar de Ralph W. Emerson”. Revista Norteamérica. Año 4, número 1, p. 222. 3 Vásquez, Adolfo (2015). Romanticismo Oscuro. De la Literatura Gótica a los Poetas Malditos. Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Actas de Literatura Contemporánea; XVI, p. 1. 4 Mié, Fabián (2012). “Demostración y Silogismo en los Analíticos Segundos. Reconstrucción y Discusión”, Diánoia, volumen LVIII, 70, pp. 35–58. las ideas que el ser humano posee un espíritu libre e inquieto, el cual posee un trascendental impulso llamado intuición, que lo separa de intermediadores y de milagros, y que pone en su mano la capacidad de cambiar su realidad basado en sus percepciones del mundo. Esta filosofía está influenciada por la filosofía alemana de autores como Kant, Fichte, Schelling y Schopenhauer y su principal representante fue el autor Ralph Waldo Emerson en su ensayo The American Schollar2; “Los autores más representativos de la corriente son: Edgar Allan Poe, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Herman Melville, y también se adscriben a la misma la poetisa Emily Dickinson y el poeta italiano Ugo Foscolo. La expresión romanticismo oscuro proviene por un lado de su condición pesimista y por otro de la influencia del primigenio movimiento romántico. Su nacimiento se produjo a mediados del siglo XIX, como se ha dicho, a partir del trascendentalismo. Éste se originó en Nueva Inglaterra a cargo de intelectuales de renombre como Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau y Margaret Fuller, y cosechó gran prestigio más o menos desde 1836 hasta finales de los 1840s. El movimiento tuvo gran influencia en distintas áreas, como la literatura, a medida que los escritores iban imbuyéndose de su doctrina. Mientras tanto, ciertos autores, entre ellos los citados Poe, Hawthorne y Melville, encontraron las ideas trascentalistas demasiado optimistas o egoístas, y reaccionaron contra ellas a través de sus obras poéticas y prosísticas; ésta sería la tendencia que daría origen al “Dark Romanticism”3. La atracción por los temas oscuros de estos autores. los llevó a diseñar nuevas estructuras narrativas para contar historias sobre asesinatos y detectives. Uno de ellos, el atormentado y genial Edgar Allan Poe, diseñó una estructura narrativa basada en la hipótesis, también comprendida como una sospecha, curiosidad, o una conjetura frente a determinado fenómeno o situación específica generalmente de tipo problemática. Si bien es cierto el romanticismo oscuro se alejó del movimiento filosófico del trascendentalismo, mantuvo de esta filosofía la idea de poner la intuición humana como una herramienta del pensamiento, mientras los trascendentalistas, separados de la Iglesia Unitaria de Bostón, sostenían la idea que cada ser humano poseía un dios interior y cómo éste se manifestaría en la intuición. En sus novelas de detectives, Poe pone de manifiesto el método abductivo de investigación como una metodología de la intuición, método que ya había sido mencionado por Aristóteles en sus Segundos Analíticos4. Sin embargo será Pierce Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 64 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 5 Lada Ferredas, Ulpiano (2001). “La dimensión Pragmática del signo literario” Estudios Filológicos. Nº 36, pp. 61-70. quien lo sintetiza y desarrolla como una herramienta científica de investigación semiótica. El aporte de Edgar Allan Poe, es metodológico. Si bien hasta el siglo XIX se utilizaba el método abductivo de investigación hipotética conjuntamente con los métodos deductivo e inductivo, Poe es el primero en proponer el método abductivo como estructura narrativa y como estructura de investigación dentro de una estructura literaria, para lo cual eligió la novela. Si bien es cierto, también escribió cuentos detectivescos, la estructura de sus novelas con Agustin Dupine como protagonista, es la estructura sampleada por Arthur Conan Doyle quien lo reconoce como su maestro. La lista de escritores influenciados por Poe y los demás autores del romanticismo oscuro incluye a Julio Cortázar, Charles Baudelaire y al mismo Charles Sanders Pierce (por solo nombrar a los que reconocen su influencia en novela, cuento y poesía) quienes además lo han traducido al francés y al español y estudiado desde el punto de vista semiótico. En ese sentido, Pierce es quien llega a un mayor nivel de profundidad, ya que desarrolla el estudio de la hipótesis y la categoriza. El filósofo estadounidense, fue quien desarrolló una teoría sobre el funcionamiento del proceso semiótico, por ende, es uno de los padres de la ciencia de interpretación de los signos conocida en Estados Unidos como semiótica y en Europa como semiología. En ese sentido, vamos a analizar el aporte del método abductivo en la ciencia de la semiótica y en cómo opera la mente humana en la comprensión de cualquier signo. Respecto de signo, utilizaremos la definición de Umberto Eco, quién intenta integrar tanto la definición de signo de Pierce, como la definición del también semiólogo Ferdinand de Saussure. Primero veamos la definición de signo que hace Pierce, para acercarnos a las definición de signo que hace Eco. Pierce define el signo como; “un signo, o representamen, es un primero que está en una tal genuina relación tríadica a un segundo, llamado su objeto, que es capaz de determinar que un tercero, llamado su interpretante, asuma la misma relación tríadica a su objeto en la que él se encuentra respecto del mismo objeto (Pierce; 1988, 144)”5. En esta definición de signo, Pierce dice que independiente de si ese signo es representado por otro signo, un carácter, un objeto, u otra cosa como un fenómeno, identifica un triángulo con el objeto a representar, el signo representante y el interpretante. El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 65 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 6 Murillo, Sandra y Berna Valle (2015). “El signo y sus aproximaciones teóricos en el desarrollo de la ciencia semiótica”. Razón y Palabra, Vol. 19, Nº 91, S/P. En cambio, de Saussure, se centra en el signo como palabra, digamos propone una semiótica lingüística. En ese sentido, propone que el signo lingüístico posee dos caras, un significado y un significante. Umberto Eco entonces nos dice que signo es tanto algo que representa (Pierce), como lo que decodifica el interpretante (Saussure); “Sin embargo, Eco termina estableciendo que la semiótica deberá ocuparse de cualquier cosa que pudiera considerarse como signo, aludiendo a la definición peirceana sobre el signo como sustituto de algo. Explicará que signo es cualquier cosa que se presente como substituto significante de cualquier otra cosa “Esa cualquier otra cosa no debe necesariamente existir ni debe subsistir de hecho en el momento en que el signo la represente. En ese sentido, la semiótica es, en principio, la disciplina que estudia todo lo que puede usarse para mentir (Eco, 2005, p. 22)”6. El aporte de Pierce además de la teoría de signos, es en la metodología de la abducción, pues es quién identifica el método abductivo como producto de la imaginación, del asombro, mientras define que la deducción y la inducción, son producto de la lógica y no de la intuición. Para comprender esto, podemos explicarlo en cualquier ejemplo de las Ciencias Sociales. Cuando se estudia un sujeto x, ese sujeto es asociado a su cultura y por ende cae en la generalización de cualquier análisis, puesto que se entiende que como sujeto debería cumplir con las características que configuran su cultura o la cultura a la que pertenece. Esta generalización es típica en las Ciencias Sociales y en alguna forma ha sido legítima para describir científicamente a los sujetos de alguna cultura en particular. También las Ciencias Sociales utilizan el método inductivo, es decir de una amplia gama de características de alguna cultura: un sujeto puede ser descrito como parte de esa cultura, por simplificación. ¿Qué sucede entonces cuando un sujeto puede pertenecer a dos o más culturas? La respuesta es justamente el desafío de nuestra conclusión. Volvamos a Pierce. Pierce es quién sistematiza el estudio del método abductivo, especialmente de la hipótesis. “El término Abducción, según el Dictionary of Philosophy and Psychology de Baldwin, corresponde a la απογογη de Aristóteles, ajustándose a la palabra latina del humanista Julius Pacius, abductio. Abducción o presunción es la mejor forma de traducir este término aristotélico, el cual, tomado desprevenidamente, podría significar secuestro, lo sorprendente de los fenómenos. La presunción es el tipo de razonamiento que Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 66 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 proporciona o permite la formulación de nuevas ideas. La abducción se puede considerar adecuada para la comprensión de fenómenos culturales y para la caracterización de las culturas, no sólo porque está dotada de un sustrato filosófico sólido, sino porque las culturas, multifactoriales y polisémicas, exigen una postura inter y transdisciplinar, la cual es bienvenida por la abducción. Además, como la abducción no se propone llegar a la comprobación de ningún tipo de teoría, sino a la formulación de hipótesis, se convierte en la herramienta óptima, lejos de la cual está la enunciación de juicios. El procedimiento abductivo consiste, básicamente, en la identificación de la anomalía o la novedad, la descripción de la misma, la indagación por referentes teóricos que ayuden a comprender dicha anomalía y, por último, la formulación de hipótesis explicativas que den cuenta del fenómeno detonante, indistintamente si dichas hipótesis son consistentes o no con las diversas formulaciones teóricas encontradas y descritas en el marco teórico”7. Pierce define entonces hipótesis como una “inferencia mediata de carácter sintético, probable y explicativa”8 lo que vuelve a la hipótesis un elemento lógico a pesar de surgir de la imaginación, pues toda hipótesis parte de la base de ser probable, es decir, el explicar con amplia validez la verosimilitud del fenómeno estudiado. De esta manera y suponiendo que la hipótesis hubiera existido antes que el fenómeno, éste podría entenderse hipotéticamente como una consecuencia. Tampoco se trata de hacer hipótesis con cualquier idea que surja, sino más bien el científico propone hipótesis dentro de marcos lógicos posibles. Al respecto Pierce estipula tres reglas para formular una hipótesis; “1.- La hipótesis ha de presentarse expresamente como una cuestión a discutir, antes de hacer las observaciones que atestiguarán su verdad. En otras palabras, debemos procurar discernir cuál será el resultado de las predicciones de la hipótesis. 2.- El aspecto tocante al cual se anoten las semejanzas debe tomarse al azar. No hemos de escoger un tipo particular de predicciones, para las que se sabe que la hipótesis es válida. 3.- Los fracasos tanto como los éxitos de las predicciones deben reseñarse honradamente. El procedimiento entero tiene que ser franco e imparcial”9. Respecto de su clasificación, esta depende de la ciencia desde donde surge la hipótesis, pues se hace necesario diferenciar su aplicación tanto en las ciencias 7 Montoya, Juan Eliseo (2013). “Abducción, Interdisciplinariedad y Cultura”. AdVersuS, X, Nº 24. pp. 122-144. 8 Pierce, Charles (1878). Deducción, Inducción e Hipótesis. Traducción castellana y notas de Juan Martín Ruiz- Werner, Buenos Aires: Aguilar 1970. pp. 1-12. 9 Pierce (1878). Deducción…, pp. 1-12 El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 67 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 exactas como en las ciencias sociales y humanas. En ese sentido, las ciencias exactas poseen la capacidad de demostrar a través de experimentos y resultados comprobables las hipótesis propuestas, mientras que en las ciencias humanas y sociales, esto no es tan así, pues la esencia de las ciencias del espíritu, es que no buscan leyes, al menos no en el postpositivismo10, sino que las ciencias humanas y sociales buscan significados entre los signos culturales, los cuales pueden ser medibles a veces, pero esa no es la meta de las ciencias blandas, cuyo objetivo es comprender significados y no establecer leyes. En ese sentido, las ciencias sociales y las ciencias humanas, obligatoriamente están sujetas a la interpretación y por ende a la hermenéutica y a la semiótica. Es decir, a las ciencias de la interpretación y de la representación. No es de extrañar que haya sido un semiótico como Pierce, quién haya entregado una sistematización de las hipótesis. Para Pierce, la hipótesis, es el método investigativo por excelencia. Pues, la inducción y la deducción siempre están sujetos a la lógica del interpretante y la generalización y simplificación están en directa relación a la cultura del investigador. Umberto Eco y Thomas Sebeok clasifican las abducciones en explicativas, creativas y explicativas-creativas11. así como Pierce sistematiza el procedimiento metodológico para elaborar una hipótesis por abducción de la siguiente manera. 1.- Identificar una anomalía, novedad o fenómeno. 2.- Descripción de la anomalía. 3.- Indagación por referentes teóricos que ayuden a comprender la misma. 4.- Formulación de hipótesis explicativa que busque dar cuenta del fenómeno o anomalía. 5.- Comparación de si aquellas hipótesis explicativas son coherentes con el marco teórico. La abducción no tiene como propósito la comprobación de una hipótesis; su rigurosidad está dirigida a la producción de las mismas, pues éste es su punto de llegada a diferencia de la inducción, la cual es predicativa, y de la deducción la cual es predictiva12. 10 Entendemos por postpositivismo, según la definición que hace Javier Benito Seoane; La ciencia postpositivista considera que sobre un objeto caben diversas interpretaciones válidas, diversos lenguajes. En consecuencia, apuesta por el diálogo entre las múltiples voces que hablan acerca de un objeto y no cree en la posibilidad de hallar un lenguaje privilegiado para la descripción de la realidad, un «espejo de la naturaleza» (RORTY, 1990; 1996a y 1996b). De esta manera, la ciencia postpositivista es una ciencia dialógica. Seoane, Javier Benito (2011). “Teoría Social Clásica y Postpositivismo”, Barbaroi, Nº 35, pp. 141-163. 11 Eco, Umberto y Thomas A. Sebeok (1989). The Sign of Three. Pierce, Holmes, Dupin. Bloomington: Indiana U.P.; (traducción española) El signo de los tres. Dupin, Holmes, Pierce. Barcelona: Lumen (1989), p. 38. 12 Montoya, Juan Eliseo (2013). “Abducción, Interdisciplinariedad y Cultura”. AdVersuS, X, Nº 24. pp. 122-144. Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 68 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 En este caso Juan Montoya sostiene que la abducción es una posibilidad, que siempre va a funcionar dentro de un sistema simbólico cultural. ¿Pero qué ocurre, cuando el investigador trabaja con un sistema cultural desconocido para él? Aquí es cuando entramos en el área de la hermenéutica. Es decir, en la ciencia de la interpretación de textos, como el mismo Pierce sostenía “no tenemos ninguna capacidad de pensar sin signos”13. Para comprender el proceso hermenéutico desde el punto de vista semiótico, debemos considerar que el trasvasije teórico de lo hermenéutico y lo semiótico sí es posible, aunque los semióticos y los hermeneutas siempre celosos de sus disciplinas se opongan al considerar todo signo como texto y todo texto como signo. Al respecto Paul Ricoeur sostiene lo siguiente: “He escogido como problema crítico el punto más delicado, aquel en el que tanto la semiótica como la hermenéutica, me atrevería a decir, encuentran un obstáculo. Este problema se ha designado frecuentemente con el término mimesis. El término proviene de Aristóteles. Declara, en la Poética, que el tipo narrativo que es para el drama (la tragedia, la comedia y la epopeya) constituye una «μίμησίς της πράξες»14, que se traduce normalmente por «imitación de la acción». Pero ¿hay que traducir mimesis por imitación? Este es todo el problema. Precisamente, acaba de aparecer una traducción de la Poética que han hecho alumnos de Todorov donde se traduce mimesis por «representación». De esto se trata justamente. Esta traducción tiene además un precedente: Erich Auerbach subtitula su gran libro Mimesis «La representación de la realidad en la literatura occidental»”15. Según lo anterior, tenemos que tanto en la hermenéutica como en la semiótica, existe un lector de códigos, ya sea este código signo o texto. Ambas disciplinas necesitan de un interpretante que se enfrenta necesariamente al proceso de mimesis. Por lo tanto en la semiótica, todo signo no es más que representación (mimesis) de otro signo, como en hermenéutica todo texto se construye en imitaciones textuales de otros textos (mimesis) por lo que mimesis significa tanto imitación como representación. La separación entre estas dos ciencias humanas (hermenéutica y semiótica) estuvo en la doble interpretación de la palabra poiesis en Aristóteles. Esta doble significación consiste en que para unos, mimesis significa representación y para otros significa imitación. La diferencia es abismal entre uno y otro concepto y separó las dos ciencias por caminos muy diferentes a lo largo de la historia de la ciencia, con resultados dispares. Sin embargo como el proceso de interpretación se centra en un acto interno, mental y consiente de decodificación 13 Pierce, Charles (1878). Deducción…, pp. 1-12 14 Paul Ricoeur se refiere a la traducción llevada a cabo por Roselyne Dupont-Roc y Jean Lallot: La Poétique, París, Seui!, 1980 (N. del T). 15 Ricoeur, Paul (1997) “Hermenéutica y Semiótica. Dedicado a: Horizontes del Relato: Lecturas y Conversaciones con Paul Ricoeur”. Revista Cuaderno Gris, Nº 2. pp. 91-106. El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 69 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 16 Montoya, Juan Eliseo (2013). “Abducción, Interdisciplinariedad y Cultura”. AdVersuS, X, Nº 24. pp. 122-144. 17 Como lo hacían los antiguos antropólogos que se iban años a vivir con los indígenas de la Amazonía y luego publicaban en Europa o EEUU interesantes libros sobre lo observado, pero en un idioma incomprensible para el sujeto-objeto de estudio. de un interpretante circunscrito a un proceso de comunicación, el sentido de la abducción funciona igual para semióticos que para hermeneutas. Es la hermenéutica la que se ha preocupado en profundizar la comprensión e interpretación, mientras a rasgos generales, la semiótica se ha preocupado de la creación y circulación de signos, siendo la generadora de las teorías de la comunicación más conocidas. En la tradición hermenéutica latinoamericana se ha profundizado en la comprensión del Otro en el sentido cultural, destacando la hermenéutica analógica de Mauricio Beuchot, la cual propone la creación de hipótesis de parte del investigador, en el contexto del mismo fenómeno16. Es decir, el autor propone una hermenéutica donde el interpretante construye en su mente una analogía del fenómeno a investigar, haciendo el esfuerzo de situarse en el contexto del fenómeno cultural mismo. Esto significa un gran avance en materia metodológica y hasta hace un par de décadas fue una buena herramienta para la investigación cultural, aplicable en la etnomusicología como en el estudio de los textos de culturas diferentes a la cultura del investigador. Pero en la actualidad, en el proceso de desglobalización estamos ante un nuevo desafío metodológico, pues la realidad es mucho más compleja que colocarse en el lugar del Otro para comprenderlo. ¿En qué sentido? En que en la realidad transcultural actual, el Otro no necesariamente es otro sujeto, sino más bien puede ser varios otros, en el sentido que en la época de la desglobalización, las identidades culturales son múltiples producto de las grandes migraciones tanto capo-cuidad, como de un continente a otro, así como el mismo investigador como sujeto con conciencia, puede ser uno y otro a la vez. Tanto para el interprete como para el interpretante, atrás ha quedado la dicotomía cultura occidental/cultura otra. El binarismo yo-otro, ya no aplica. Hoy yo puedo ser yo y otro al mismo tiempo. Según lo anterior, podríamos afirmar que en la época de la desglobalización, la hermenéutica analógica se queda corta, pues el investigador ya no está analizando un fenómeno en el contexto del fenómeno17, ya que hoy somos objeto y sujetos de estudio a la vez, por lo tanto podemos analizar un fenómeno en uno o dos contextos diferentes al mismo tiempo. En la desglobalización, por ejemplo, el investigador es un mismo indígena de la Amazonía que estudia sus tradiciones dentro y fuera de su cultura, pues los indígenas de la desglobalización van a las universidades, son indígenas y científicos a la vez, como es el caso de Linda Tuhiwai Smith. La investigadora Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 70 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 18 Tuhiwai Smith, Linda (2013). A Descolonizar las Metodologías. Investigación y Pueblos Indígenas. Santiago: LOM. de origen maorí, escribe en inglés, es de nacionalidad neozelandesa y es autora del célebre libro “A Descolonizar las Metodologías”18. Lo mismo ocurre con los investigadores occidentales. Foucault era un filósofo occidental y homosexual, por lo que estaba en una posición dominante y era minoría subalterna a la vez, dominante y dominado el mismo tiempo, por lo que no podemos afirmar que era un occidental que pudiésemos clasificar fácilmente según una inducción o una deducción. En ese sentido se ha propuesto una nueva hermenéutica conocida como hermenéutica diatópica, que no pone su esfuerzo en situarse por analogía en el contexto del Otro, sino más bien en una hermenéutica que intenta dialogar con el Otro, generar un diálogo de culturas, comprender y conocer al Otro mediante el diálogo de saberes, y no desde una situación investigativa parcial. Propuesta por De Soussa Santos, está basada en el diálogo y no en la analogía, pues el problema de la analogía (más allá de su buena intención) es que nunca el sujeto podrá situarse ni material ni imaginariamente en el lugar del otro, por lo tanto. Así, el investigador empático, va a hacer el ejercicio de ponerse en el lugar del otro, pero su analogía no pasará más allá del ejercicio, mientras el extractivismo epistémico sigue adelante. Esto explica, cómo a pueblos subalternos, no solo se les extrae los recursos naturales, sino además el sentido de su existencia y su cultura. De esta manera, éste diálogo de saberes propuesto por De Sousa Santos es una hermenéutica basada en la diferencia, pero no en una diferencia discriminadora, sino en una diferencia consiente, que el conocimiento es necesario construirlo entre todos los seres humanos, independiente de su cultura. _____________________________________________________________________ En este sentido, De Soussa Santos parte de la base que la ciencia se ha desarrollado sobre la base del colonialismo occidental. En ese sentido es fácil acusar a la ciencia como colonialista, que de hecho lo es. ¿Qué ganaron los indígenas a los cuales estudió Levi Strauss? El aporte de Levi Strauss es a la ciencia de la antropología y del conocimiento en general, no en sentido de un aporte local a los indígenas estudiados. Este extractivismo epistémico se reproduce día a día en las universidades del mundo y es un verdadero desafío superarlo. En la Universidad de Talca hay músicos de varias nacionalidades, pero no hay músicos ni musicólogos mapuche, ni aymara, ni quechua, ni rapa nui. El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 71 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 La ecología del saber que propone De Soussa Santos19 es ideal como hermenéutica en la desglobalización, pues en este estrato de tiempo en que estamos presente, las identidades no son sólidas ni estables, las identidades son múltiples, trans y líquidas. Es decir, una persona del mundo actual, en el que la tendencia cultural de los humanos es la movilidad y la multiculturalidad, un sujeto puede tener varias identidades, occidental, indígena, bisexual, liberal, conservador, religioso o agnóstico, las identidades pueden ser de varios tipos dependiendo de la cultura. Es trans, además porque la identidad no es estable. Una persona un día puede convertirse al Islam o por el contrario leer a Feuerbach y volverse ateo, la identidad es algo que siempre está cambiando. Además, el contacto intercultural ya no está relegado a una elite o a un grupo de inmigrantes. En la desglobalización, el fenómeno de la migración afecta a todos los países y a todas las clases sociales. Por último, la identidad es líquida, pues al ser múltiple y trans, es algo que está modificándose a cada momento. En cada rincón del mundo hay alguien que se está adaptando a una nueva cultura, pero filtrando elementos de la cultura nueva y de su cultura de origen, creando una nueva identidad todos los días. Desde el punto de vista semiótico, proponemos que la transculturalidad podría ser vista en términos de Pierce como una cuarteridad, es decir una nueva etapa en la representación semiótica donde el signo es hermenéuticamente leído diatópicamente, superando la hegemonía ideológica del positivismo cultural occidental univocista, pues en la época de desglobalización los individuos tienen dos o más identidades. En ese sentido, los sujetos de la desglobalización asumen los significados y sentidos de lo simbólico en sus diferentes contextos culturales y es necesario que así lo hagan para su completa adaptabilidad cultural, pero nunca antes en la historia había ocurrido que la diversidad cultural se transforme en un proceso contextual dinámico. La cuarteridad como categoría de la experiencia, en términos de Pierce, sería una lectura semiótica compleja de la realidad multi y transcultural en la que signos y textos funcionan en varios sentidos. La multicausalidad y multidireccionalidad de los signos es una característica de la desglobalización. Esto ha ocurrido históricamente con muchos conceptos, pero como vimos anteriormente con el ejemplo del concepto mimesis, ahora podemos funcionar en un mundo donde mimesis significa representación a la vez que imitación. 19 De Soussa Santos, Boaventura (2014). “Más allá del pensamiento abismal: de las líneas globales a una ecología de los saberes”, En: B. De Sousa Santos, B. y Meneses, M. Epistemologías del Sur (Perspectivas). Madrid: Akal. pp. 43. Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 72 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 Igualmente, como en la categoría de experiencia, primeridad es el concepto puro y en abstracto, pero sujeto a la libertad, posibilidad e indeterminación. Es una idea en una mente humana, cualquiera sea la idea y cualquiera sea la mente. Segundidad como categoría de la experiencia, implica algo tal como es, pero en relación a otra cosa. Pierce relaciona esta categoría con la idea de la existencia, por lo tanto, es una categoría ontológica. Esto en relación a los sentidos que captan cualidades de los fenómenos, cuyas cualidades serían una primeridad o cualidad pura. En la secundidad nosotros construimos hechos de la realidad o de existencia. Es la relación del objeto abstracto con la existencia en sí misma. Por terceridad o tercera categoría de la experiencia, se hace posible la conexión de las cualidades de las cosas con lo que percibimos. En esta relación formulamos razonamientos, por lo que el signo se transforma en lo que entiende el interpretante, quien constituye un razonamiento que relaciona el concepto abstracto en que el interpretante es a su vez medio de razonamiento. Sabemos que todo interpretante tiene su contexto, por lo que podríamos decir que las terceridad tiene que ver con el concepto abstracto, el interpretante y su contexto. Pero ¿Qué ocurre en un contexto trans y multicultural, en el que los conceptos tienen dos o más significados y estos significados a su vez son líquidos y cambiantes en contextos cambiantes? Estos múltiples significados no están dados por la doble significación de un concepto dentro de una cultura como el concepto poiesis, o como el concepto historia que significa tanto pasado como disciplina investigativa del pasado. Sino que está dado por el hecho que en la desglobalización, los conceptos tienen doble o más significados en diferentes culturas, así como existen conceptos en un idioma que no tienen traducción en otros idiomas. Por ejemplo, para un occidental una montaña es un paisaje y a su vez un recurso económico. Mientras para un maorí una montaña, por un colonialismo aprendido, significa paisaje y recurso, pero también puede significar un espacio sagrado, en un sistema simbólico propio, significado que no existe en la lógica occidental. Así es como tenemos conceptos que en diferentes culturas significan diferentes cosas, por lo que observamos que el contexto de significación es multiple, trans y líquido y que la enseñanza de la historia, las artes y la música está supeditado a esta nueva época transcultural. Específicamente el caso de la enseñanza de la música en una universidad regional de Chile, implica investigar con los ojos abiertos a los nuevos elementos que atraviesan la cultura chilena. La revalorización de lo mapuche, aymara, quechua y rapa nui. El aporte cultural rítmico de la migración afrodecendiente- caribeña. Los nuevos musicólogos deben ser formados en las ciencias semióticas y hermenéuticas para poder captar aquellas sutilezas culturales que occidente El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 73 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 ha identificado, pero no ha comprendido, o lo que es peor, no ha querido comprender. Introducción a la Metodología de la Investigación Musical en la Universidad de Talca En el anterior contexto cultural y teórico, dictamos el curso; Metodología de la Investigación a alumnos de la carrera de Interpretación y Docencia Musical Especializada en la Universidad de Talca, Chile, quienes deben hacer una tesis en investigación musical, para lo que se diseñó un curso en el que la tesis sea trabajada como un Estudio de Caso formulado en el noveno semestre de la carrera, y desarrollada como Trabajo de Grado en el décimo semestre. Comenzamos por pedirle a los alumnos del curso en el noveno semestre, que hagan en su Centro de Práctica un análisis FODA y lo expongan al curso, respecto del contexto del proceso de enseñanza aprendizaje de la música. Lo anterior, con el fin que se interioricen de la realidad de sus contexto educativo y encuentren un tema a investigar aplicando el modelo de Estudio de Caso, el que está amparado en mostrar evidencia científica de algún problema de investigación relacionada al proceso de enseñanza de la música. De este procedimiento metodológico surgieron los temas de investigación que los alumnos deben trabajar en forma individual o en parejas, descubierto por ellos, de acuerdo a fortalezas, oportunidades, debilidades o amenazas (FODA) que ellos encuentren en el proceso de educación musical, mientras hacen su Práctica Profesional como futuros profesores de la música, en diferentes establecimientos educacionales de la ciudad de Talca. A continuación les pedimos un anteproyecto evaluado en el que deben indicar su investigación en términos implícitos; (observación del tema-problema, hipótesis, antítesis (3 autores mínimo) análisis, síntesis, tesis). Anteproyecto que en este caso nace del análisis FODA y que les permite ordenar sus ideas de investigación, construir preguntas de investigación, realizar conjeturas e hipótesis, cuestionar sus premisas y construir instrumentos de investigación, utilizando el método abductivo antes expuesto para el desarrollo de una investigación de tipo Estudio de Caso. Los resultados fueron óptimos, ayudando el método abductivo a encontrar eficazmente un tema-problema a investigar, que en definitiva es lo más difícil de lograr en alumnos que no tienen experiencia investigativa. Posteriormente en el décimo semestre de la carrera en el curso Trabajo de Grado, los alumnos debieron llevar a cabo su anteproyecto de investigación, transformando el proyecto de forma implícita antes mencionada a la forma explicita; Introducción, Hipótesis, Marco Teórico, Marco Metodológico, Objetivos de Investigación, Presentación del Tema-Problema, Justificación del Dr. Javier A. Soto Cárdenas 74 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 Tema-Problema, Análisis y Resultados, Conclusiones Específicas y Generales, hasta lograr obtener una Tesis. Este método ha sido útil en la construcción y diseño de los trabajos de grado de los alumnos del a Escuela de Música de la Universidad de Talca. Conclusión En el Romanticismo Oscuro norteamericano del siglo XIX, surge en la cabeza de un escritor genial y atormentado un método de investigación abductiva como novedosa construcción narrativa. Capta el interés de otro escritor, ahora en Europa y desarrolla todo un canon de la novela de investigación. Luego un semiólogo estadounidense sintetiza y elabora una teoría del conocimiento basada en la hipótesis como reemplazo de los modelos inductivos y deductivos surgidos de la lógica griega y propone a la intuición a la altura del método. Luego y tras el debate hermenéutico de la actualidad, se presenta la abducción como un método del pensamiento necesario para comprender la compleja realidad que vive la humanidad en el siglo XXI y su aceleración del tiempo. Por último, se propone el método abductivo como una importante herramienta de investigación en el contexto de una sociedad que está viviendo un proceso de desglobalización donde el viaje es la mejor didáctica para investigar la música, las artes, las ciencias humanas y sociales, entregando el ejemplo de; cómo el método abductivo es utilizado para una investigación de tipo Estudio de Caso en la Universidad de Talca, con alumnos de la Escuela de Música. BIBLIOGRAFÍA Aguayo, Pablo (2011). “La Teoría de la Abducción de Pierce: Lógica, Metodología e Instinto”. Ideas y Valores, Nº 145, pp. 33-53. De Soussa Santos, Boaventura (2009). “Un discurso sobre las ciencias”. En: J.G. Gandarilla. Una epistemología del sur: la reinvención del conocimiento y la emancipación social. México: Siglo XXI. pp. 17-59. De Soussa Santos, Boaventura (2014). “Más allá del pensamiento abismal: de las líneas globales a una ecología de los saberes”, En: B. De Sousa Santos y M. Meneses. Epistemologías del Sur (Perspectivas). Madrid: Akal. pp. 21-61. Eco, Umberto y Thomas A. Sebeok (1989). The Sign of Three. Pierce, Holmes, Dupin. Bloomington: Indiana U.P.; (traducción española) El signo de los tres. Dupin, Holmes, Pierce. Barcelona: Lumen (1989), p. 38. Hernández, Gloria (2009). “El Proceso de Recepción de The American Scholar de Ralph W. Emerson”. Revista Norteamérica. Año 4, número 1, p. 222. El Método Abductivo de Investigación Científica. Sus orígenes en el Romanticismo Oscuro Estadounidense y algunas Reflexiones y ejemplos en torno a contextos Multiculturales y la Enseñanza de la Música en la Desglobalización The abductive method of scientific research. Its origins in us dark romanticism and some reflections and examples regarding multicultural contexts and the teaching of music in deglobalization 75 Revista NEUMA • Año 12 Volumen 1 Ibarra, Manuel (2008). “Alfredo Jalife-Rahme. Hacia la Desglobalización”. Reseña en Revista Estudios Fronterizos, Vol. 9, Nº 17, pp. 197-202. Lada Ferreras, Ulpiano (2001). “La dimensión pragmática del signo literario”. Estudios Filológicos. Nº 36, pp. 61-70. Mié, Fabián (2012). “Demostración y Silogismo en los Analíticos Segundos. Reconstrucción y Discusión”, Diánoia, volumen LVIII, número 70, pp. 35–58. Mancuso, Hugo (2010). De lo decible. Entre semiótica y filosofía: Pierce, Gramsci, Wittgenstein. Buenos Aires: SB Editorial Montoya, Juan Eliseo (2013). “Abducción, Interdisciplinariedad y Cultura”. AdVersuS, X, Nº 24. pp. 122-144. Murillo, Sandra y Berna Valle (2015). “El signo y sus aproximaciones teóricos en el desarrollo de la ciencia semiótica”. Razón y Palabra, Vol. 19, Nº 91, S/P. http://www.redalyc.org/articulo.oa?id=199541387030 Consultado el 20 de agosto del 2019. Pierce, Charles (1878). Deducción, Inducción e Hipótesis. Traducción castellana y notas de Juan Martín Ruiz-Werner Buenos Aires: Aguilar 1970. pp. 1-12.pp. 1-12. Poe, Edgar Allan (1973). Ensayos y Críticas. Traducción e Introducción de Julio Cortázar. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. Ricoeur, Paul (1997). “Hermenéutica y Semiótica. Dedicado a: Horizontes del Relato: Lecturas y Conversaciones con Paul Ricoeur”. Revista Cuaderno Gris, Nº 2. pp. 91-106. Seoane, Javier Benito (2011). “Teoría Social Clásica y Postpositivismo”, Barbaroi, Nº 35, pp. 141-163. Tuhiwai Smith, Linda (2013). A Descolonizar las Metodologías. Investigación y Pueblos Indígenas. LOM. Santiago. Vásquez, Adolfo (2015). Romanticismo Oscuro. De la Literatura Gótica a los Poetas Malditos. Universidad Complutense de Madrid, Actas de Literatura Contemporánea; XVI, p. 1. Velásquez, Graciela (2015). “El rol de la abducción peirciana en la investigación científica”. Valenciana, Volumen 8, Nº 15, pp. 189-213. Yegres, Alberto (2005). “Filosofía, Ilustración y Romanticismo”. Revista de Investigación, vol. 39, Nº. 86, pp. 1-8. 
work_ouzwkumx5rh7fexphapdj6zg4q	----	Critical heights ADRIFT IN THE OLD WORLD The Psychological Pilgrimage of Washington Irving JEFFREY RUBIN-DORSKY “A genuinely important advance in our understanding of America’s first professional author. Readers inter­ ested in literary biography, in the construction (and deconstruction) of literary reputations, in the bearing of art on community: all these and more will find this a rewarding, thought-provoking volume.”—Wayne Franklin, University of Iowa Cloth $32.50 304 pages ABANDONED WOMEN AND POETIC TRADITION LAWRENCE LIPKING With a Foreword by Catharine R. Stimpson By exploring the ways in which the figure of the abandoned woman has functioned in poems and for writers across cultures and throughout history, Lipking develops an unconventional poetics that speaks to the experiences of women as well as men. He reconsiders many major authors from Sappho and Ovid to Dickinson and T. S. 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work_owgfo6yvfnblniet222tqdz6ay	----	!1Novi zvuk 40_DEO1i2_FINAL.indd 161 Abstract: This paper focuses on the relationship between pop culture, i.e. pop music, and ideology. The main thesis of the text is that the works of pop culture are the product of the social-historical context in which they emerge, but that the same works can also function as a criticism of that very context. As an example, we took Bob Dylan’s media phenom- enon and the elements of utopia as a narrative genre in his work. As a theoretical-interpre- tative context we relied on the propositions of American analytic philosopher Stanley Cavell: through his ethical theory on ‘moral perfectionism’ an analysis was made of the way in which pop culture functioned as the necessary internal corrective of a democratic community. It is assumed that texts on pop culture cannot be truly revolutionary, but they can certainly be critical. Keywords: pop culture, pop music, moral perfectionism, utopia, ideology, democracy. Апстракт: Рад се бави односом између популарне културе, односно популарне музике и идеологије. Основна теза текста јесте да су дела популарне музике продукт друштвено-историјског контекста у коме настају, али да та иста дела могу функционисати и као место критике тог контекста. Као пример узети су медијски феномен Боба Дилана и елементи утопије као наративног жанра у његовом раду. Као теоретско-интерпретативни оквир искоришћене су поставке америчког аналитичког филозофа Стенлија Кавела: кроз његову етичку теорију о „моралном перфекци- онизму“ анализира се на који начин популарна култура функционише као нужни STUDIES Article received on 13 February 2013 Article accepted on 15 February 2013 UDC: 78.067.26(73)"19" ; 316.72(73)"19" PLEADING FOR UTOPIA: AMERICAN PASTORAL IN BOB DYLAN’S MUSIC Nikola Dedić* University of Niš Faculty of Philosophy * Author contact information: dedicnikola@yahoo.com New Sound 40, II/ 2012 162 унутрашњи коректив демократске заједнице. Претпоставка је да текстови популарне културе и музике не могу бити револуционарни у јаком смислу те речи, али могу бити критички. Кључне речи: популарна култура, популарна музика, морални перфекционизам, утопија, идеологија, демократија Ralph Waldo Emerson in the postmodern context The starting point of this paper is the analysis of the relationship between Bob Dylan’s music and the broad tradition of the ‘inclination’ towards uto- pia, which was most clearly anticipated by Ralph Waldo Emerson within the American romanticist tradition. This kind of Emersonian progressive heritage is determined by the philosopher Stanley Cavell as ‘moral perfectionism’; moral perfectionism implies the reflection on ethics that begins with Plato and Aristo- tle, and ends with thinkers such as Ralph Waldo Emerson and Friedrich Nietz- sche in the 19th century, i.e. Martin Heidegger and Ludwig Wittgenstein in the 20th century. In its modern form, moral perfectionism implies the principle of ethical progress of the subject, i.e. the transcending of the moral and material conditions of existence, but through the denial of the external guarantee of this transcending. In that sense, moral perfectionism represents the first manifesta- tion of criticism of Western metaphysics: the process of moral progress is not attained through interaction with the external instances of God, absolute spirit, ruler’s authority, religion, etc., but through the process of individual transfigu- ration that Stanley Cavell, taking Emerson’s philosophy as central, labels as ‘the process of individuation’. Moral perfectionism, in that sense, is the system of the reflection of subjectivity, along with the denial of the possibility of the external representation of that same subject; this process is, perhaps, the most consistently conveyed in Emerson’s essay ‘Self-Reliance’, where the self is de- fined as the process of continual individual progress, the revolutionizing of that same self towards transcending the current conditions of living, but through the anti-metaphysical denial of the subject’s involvement by representation1. Ac- cording to Cavell, 1 Ralf Valdo Emerson, „Samodovoljnost“, Ogledi, Grafos, Belgrade, 1983, p. 48–77; on Emerson cf. Tiffany K. Wayne, Critical Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson. A Literary Reference to His Life and Work, Facts on File, New York, 2010; Harold Bloom (ed.), Bloom’s Classic Critical Views: Ralph Waldo Emerson, Bloom’s Literary Criticism, New York, 2008; Harold Bloom (ed.), Bloom’s Modern Critical Interpretations: Emerson’s Essays, Chelsea House Publishers, New York, 2006. 163 Emerson’s problem of representativeness, or exemplification (‘imitation’), or perfec- tion, thus begins earlier than Plato’s, both in lacking a sun and in having no standing representative man (anyone is entitled, and no one is, to stand for this election) and he warns that we have to – that we do – elect our (private) representative(s). In a sense his teaching is what we are to see beyond representativeness, or rather see it as a process of individuation.2 Thus, Cavell relates the philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson to the con- temporary criticism of metaphysics; Emerson is, in that sense, the anticipa- tion of Heidegger’s philosophy that supports the doubt in Cartesian rationality, where there is a denial of the possibility of absolute completeness, the totality of thinking (Emerson, due to Heidegger, is also the anticipator of the thesis about ‘the not-whole’ of thinking and the subject, which post-modernism most con- sistently inherits). The anticipation of knowledge, not mediated by any external guarantor, is also the basis of Wittgenstein’s philosophy: his main thesis is that all traditional, metaphysical notions and judgments should be considered in the context of the structure of everyday speech: knowledge, truth, the subject are the forms of linguistic definition, the proposition whose meaning is determined by context (by the rules of ‘linguistic games’) within which this proposition becomes used. So, Stanley Cavell comes to conclusions close to postmodern philosophy; the basis of his theory is, relying on Emerson – the deconstruc- tion of Western metaphysics and the devastation of the assumption about the complete, ‘whole’ subject. However, the point where Cavell, i.e. the doctrine of ‘moral perfectionism’ and post-modernism disband are political implications of these two theoretical systems; the relativistic positions of Lyotardian post-mod- ernism, through an assumption that manifestation, sense, meaning, value, or any other effect of signifying a product, are relative or arbitrary, necessarily lead to a sort of political, ethical and existential nihilism.3 Contrary to this, Cavell associates Emersonian moral perfectionism to the emancipating principle of the utopian transformation of the subject and the world; utopia is, thus, not seen as an ideal place (which would be a ‘metaphysical’ determination of utopia), but more like a non place, as an on-going and never finished process of the progres- sive improvement of the self: Emerson’s invoking the world he thinks is at once to declare what I am making as the perfectionist’s address to Utopia as to something somehow here, whose entrance is next to us, hence persistently just missed, just passed, just curbed, and so to declare that the world in question inspires or requires a particular mode of thinking. 2 Stanley Cavell, Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome: The Constitution of Emersonian Perfectionism, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 1990, p. 10. 3 Miško Šuvaković, „(Post)moderna i nihilizam“, Projeka(r)t No. 11–15, Novi Sad, March 2001, p. 276–282. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 164 (…) But suppose that the intelligible world is ‘the city of words’, say Utopia; and suppose that the world of that city is not a ‘something’ that is ‘outside’ (i.e., ‘beyond’ ‘the world of sense’ – what is the process Kant figures as taking a standpoint?), but is, as it says, ‘no place’, which perhaps suggests no place else, but this place transfig- ured(…) You cannot bring Utopia about. Nor can you hope for it. You can only enter it(…) In this way the imaginability of Utopia as a modification of the present forms a criterion of presence of good enough justice.4 Having all this in mind, it is possible to come up with more precise con- clusions about the ‘nature’ of Dylan’s politics: Dylan’s utopism is not leftist- Marxistic (although Dylan mostly comes from the American Leftists’ heritage and leftist-oriented folk music); his abandoning of leftist positions of folk re- flects ‘the spiritual climate’ that announced post-modernism; however, Dylan’s distancing from folk is not nihilistic (in the way Lyotard’s or Baudrillard’s is): Dylan’s abandoning of folk, his distancing from the left wing will retain a uto- pian character; this kind of utopism is in its base Emersonian, and hence anti- collectivistic, i.e. highly individualistic. Utopism of the Midwest and ‘The North Country’ Dylan’s utopism can be regarded, as David Pichaske points out, in the context of the grand heritage of the American ‘pastoral’, with the two central moments within: the motive of nature and the motive of travel. The American pastoral vision starts from the praising of rural life and it binds it with the at- tempts of the ethical defining of the ‘right’ and the ‘authentic’ way of living; within the Anglo-Saxon tradition, pastoralism becomes visible already in the works of the early British romantic poets such as Oliver Goldsmith and Thomas Gray, and later in the works of William Wordsworth, William Blake, and John Keats.5 The American pastoral, thus, has a triple foundation: aesthetic, religious and philosophical. The aesthetic frame finds its origin in the tradition of Brit- ish and American Romanticism, while the religious aspect finds its inspiration in the labour ethics of Lutheranism and later – Calvinism. The philosophical foundation of the American pastoral will allow, first of all, the representatives of transcendentalism, such as Henry David Thoreau and Ralf Waldo Emerson; their direct antecedent is Jean Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy, who praised na- ture as the source of good in the ethical sense, considering that nature and ‘the 4 Stanley Cavell, op. cit., p. 19–20. 5 David Pichaske, Song of the North Country: A Midwest Framework to the Songs of Bob Dylan, Continuum, New York, 2010. 165 authentic’ human community are contaminated by contradictions and complexi- ties, i.e. by the progress of human history. The utopian vision of nature is, thus, at the very centre of Emersonian idealistic philosophy, which begins from the assumption that the manifesting, material world is only a kind of reflection of that which Emerson will denote as ‘over-soul’ in the manner of Neo-Platonism. Emerson views nature in the context of reflecting the universal world of ideas.6 For Emerson, nature is one of the elements for attaining the ethical principal of self-reliance, i.e. the element of the progressive improvement of the subject and the critical transcending of the current conditions of existence, which is ‘con- taminated’ by the apparatus of a mechanical civilization. The reinterpretation of the Emersonian vision of nature as an element of criticism of the consumerist culture, mostly became the basis of the American counter-culture during the 1950s and 1960s – from literature (the writers of that period in their criticism of American capitalism often started from the dialectic tension between ‘the freedom’ of the revelation of nature and ‘the alienation’ of the big cities – this is the main conflict in the novels such as Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye, Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman, Jack Kerouac’s On The Road and Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest), then in the movies (Laszlo Benedek’s The Wild One, Dennis Hopper’s Easy Rider, John Boorman’s Deliverance), to pop music (the whole folk revival from the be- ginning of the 1960s was founded on the fascination with the rural musical tradition of ‘the old’ America, while Emersonian pastoralism would mostly be integrated into the heritage of American psychedelic rock and country rock; typical examples are songs such as ‘Goin’ Up the Country’ by Canned Heat, ‘Woodstock’ by Jonni Mitchell, ‘Take Me Home, Country Roads’ and ‘Wild Montana Skies’ by John Denver, numerous songs by The Byrds, Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, etc.). Such a dialectic between the criticism, i.e. the alienation of the urban and the projection, i.e. redemption in the rural, is the basis of Dylan’s utopian pastoralism: places of alienation mostly are the big cities of the East Coast (especially New York), while the utopian vision is reserved mostly for the territory of the American Midwest or ‘the North country’ (Dylan’s homeland Minnesota). This pastoral vision was present already in Dylan’s earliest songs – on the first album, in the songs such as ‘Talkin’ New York’ or ‘Song to Woody’, nature is the place of literal, but also spiritual escape from the destructiveness of the great megalopolis, which is directly sung about in ‘Desolation Row’, ‘Subterranean Homesick Blues,’ and ‘Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again’. As Pichaske points out, 6 Ralf Valdo Emerson, „Priroda“, Ogledi, Grafos, Belgrade, 1983 Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 166 Usually, Dylan finds nature, whether sunny or stormy, to be a source of sanity, res- toration, escape, grace... and the right kind of girl, what Andy Gill calls ‘the unpreten- tious, undemanding earth-mother type’. Nature is an antidote to insanity, decay, confinement, corruption, and the wrong kind of girl. ‘Time again in Love and Theft’, writes Andy Muir, ‘it seems that “majesty and heroism”, if it is to be found anywhere, is to be found in or of country roots...’ The agrarian world is depicted as the authen- tic alternative to all that has ‘gone wrong’.7 So, Dylan’s vision of nature is a symbol of deliverance and renewal, in his love songs it is a space of emotional escape from a bad relationship (e.g. ‘Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right’), and very often a place of fulfilment of the religious ideals of the Judeo-Christian myth, where nature is related to Biblical reinterpretations (e.g. ‘11 Outlined Epitaphs’, ‘When the Ship Comes In’, ‘In the Garden’, etc.). The second important segment of American utopian pastoralism is the mo- tive of travel: Pichaske minutely explains the archetypal structure of this motive, which has been present since classic American literature, to western movies, to country music and rock and roll. Dylan’s songs on this issue reflect three basic ‘stages’ of pastoral myth on travelling: the ‘preliminary’ stage, or departure; the ‘liminaire’ stage, or separation from home on a road fraught with dangerous adventures in marvelous environments; and the ‘postliminaire’ stage, or return. This is the ideal scheme, and within American pop-culture some of these stages (as the third stage, or return) can be left out. In that sense, the road, in the utopian spirit, is experienced as a sign of individual freedom (travelling as a rejection of materialism, social hypocrisy, as well as an invitation to reject the conventional, routine way of life); finally, the metaphor of the road signifies the place of individual development, i.e. ‘In terms of personal, individual develop- ment (...) individuals are woefully incomplete if they fail to go on the road’. American authors, like Dylan, ‘proclaimed other attributes of the American open road, including health, freedom of choice, heroic deeds and art, above all the expanded consciousness’.8 The motive of travel is essentially related to the dialectic tension between criticism and projection; the frequent absence of the third phase implies the Protestant ethics which insist on the linear, progressivist view of history and consideration of America as a utopian project of constant expansion towards the West. On the other hand, the absence of the motive of return implies the issue of alienation of the subject which is in the process of 7 David Pichaske, op. cit., p. 117. 8 Cecelia Tichi, High Lonesome: The American Culture of Country Music, The University of North Carolina Press, 1994. 167 ongoing internal transformation. Here lies the ambiguity of American utopism which is still necessarily connected to the feeling of loss (a typical Dylanesque bond between travel and problematic emotional relationships), and thus, to the motive of nostalgia. As Pichaske points out, You can’t go home. Nat Hentoff once wrote of Dylan, ‘You can only go home for a visit, unless you’ve stopped growing’, but that’s not it, really. You can’t go home again because the person returning home is not the person who left home, and home is not the way you remember it. Actually, in the Midwest these days, home is prob- ably falling apart. (...) Thus develops the sense of bewildered nostalgia which colors so much of the depar- ture-return literature of the Midwest, including the late songs of Bob Dylan. You remember why you left, you know that what you found away from home was in many respects no better than what you had at home, you know that home is even deader now than it was when you left, you know you no longer fit in at home, so you might as well be away.9 Such a description fits perfectly into the determination of ‘moral perfec- tionism’ that Stanley Cavell provides, and which, again, agrees with the post- modernist thesis about the non-whole subject, i.e. the subject in the process, but from over-antinihilistic positions. According to Cavell, Emersonian moral perfectionism describes a progressive process of signifying a ‘still not attained, but attainable self’: To recognize the unattained self is, I gather, a step in attaining it(...) I do not read Emerson as saying(...) that there is one unattained/attainable self we repetitively never arrive at, but rather that ‘having’ ‘a’ self is a process of moving to, and from, nexts. It is, using a romantic term, the ‘work’ of (Emerson’s) writing to present next- ness, a city of words to participate in.10 Utopism of romantic love One more element that follows, and practically derives from Dylan’s utopian pastoralism is the image of the romantic relationship; it is even possible to say that in the whole of Dylan’s opus, along with the motive of politics, the motive of romantic love takes a dominant position. What is typical of Dylan is the fact that the image of this romantic relationship is always related to a broader vision of the critical perception of social reality, i.e. to an attempt of transcending it; accord- 9 David Pichaske, op. cit., p. 157. 10 Stanley Cavell, op. cit., p. 12. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 168 ingly, a few motives are integrated into Dylan’s perception of romantic love: (1) criticism of urbanized consumerist society, (2) the praising of individualism and (3) searching for ‘authentic’ life, in keeping with the pastoral vision of the world. The frequent method that Dylan uses in the criticism of modern consumer- ist society is the representation of the allegedly ‘inauthentic’ way of life through female characters, in songs like: ‘Like a Rolling Stone’, ‘Just Like a Woman’, ‘To Ramona’, ‘Bob Dylan’s Blues’, ‘Love Sick’, etc. What connects all these songs is the bond between the ‘bad’ woman and the alienation of life in a con- sumerist megalopolis; a paradigmatic case is ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ in which Dylan portrays the ‘fallen’ woman from high society. The song famously opens: ‘Once upon a time you dressed so fine / You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn’t you?’ The suggestion here is that the female ad- dressee held a high position in the social hierarchy, from which she behaved conde- scendingly towards others lower down the ladder. The idea that she is further developed in Dylan’s remark that: ‘You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and clowns / When they all come down and did tricks for you.’ This woman was clearly the center of attention, and used those around her for her own pleasure and entertainment. Further, Dylan seems to accuse the addressee of the song – and presumably others like her – of being not only callous towards others lower down on the social ladder, but also guilty of the crime of wasting their own time (...) Those at the top of the consumerist culture ladder fritter away their lives by trading with each other the tokens of their success. All of us who are familiar with this song will no doubt agree that Dylan’s bitterness at such societal workings is hard to over- estimate.11 For Dylan, material wealth and status symbols mask weakness, and they are not able to offer maturity, ‘depth’, or strength. As an answer to the ‘lies’ of consumerist society and ‘inauthentic’ life, Dylan offers the need for the individ- ualistic, spiritual transformation of the subject. This is why the second dominant theme of Dylan’s love poetry is the criticism of possessiveness, emotional re- lationships, i.e. an escape from a bad relationship; typical examples are: ‘Don’t Think Twice It’s All Right’, ‘I’m Not There’, ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe’, ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue’, ‘If You Gotta Go, Go Now’, etc. These motives derive from a typical Emersonian view on interpersonal relationships; the base of Emersonian philosophy is searching for the state of self-reliance of the subject; anyway, this does not imply a life in isolation, but reaching for mental self-reliance, where 11 Kevin Krein and Abigail Levin, ‘Just Like a Woman: Dylan, Authenticity, and the Sec- ond Sex’, Peter Vernezeze and Carl J. Porter (eds.), Bob Dylan and Philosophy: It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Thinking), Open Court, Chicago and La Salle, 2006, p. 54–55; also cf. Bar- bara O’Dair, „Bob Dylan and Gender Politics“, Kevin J. H. Dettmar (ed.), The Cambridge Companion to Bob Dylan, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2009, p. 80–86. 169 no social relationship is experienced as given, but as an assumption that all so- cial relations are prone to constant questioning and the free decision of an indi- vidual; loneliness is often a basic element of self-acceptance of the subject, and a precondition for reaching emotional independence. Only with this acceptance of the self is it possible to enter into social relationships on an equal basis. Such a relationship implies a radical rejection of possessiveness: In two essays on love and in other pieces on domestic life, Emerson tries to look at love – even at personal love – from the perspective of mental self-reliance. It is not always easy to say whether he is being unsettlingly radical or just prudish or cold. Maybe the line between the two is indistinct: the radical individualism of Emerson’s sort is in a principled opposition to possessiveness and exclusiveness in human rela- tions because these qualities are interwoven with the vices of envy, jealousy, and spite. What binds too tightly also blinds: exclusive love presumptuously defines the lover and the loved.12 This does not mean that Dylan, especially in his poetry of the 1960s, re- jects the possibility of a harmonious, almost ideal emotional relationship; this relationship is, however, bound to his pastoral utopian criticism of capitalism. The ‘ideal’ woman in Dylan’s imagination is always related to the rural and preindustrial archetype of the ‘authentic’ America; such an idealized image of the woman is in opposition to the inauthentic life in the big cities – the ‘ideal’ woman is a synonym for nature, i.e. for the rural territories of the Midwest and ‘The North Country’ (projection), while the ‘bad’ woman, i.e. bad emotional relationship, is related to urban (criticism): Dylan’s pastoralism causes him to associate good women with benevolent nature, and bad women with the city (...) The association of the good girl with country life is not unusual in American thought, and might have religious origins. In his study of the American pastoral, Mark Peter Buechsel notes, ‘The conflation of the Virgin, Woman, Midwestern nature, and sac- ramentalism in opposition to an ideological cluster centered around the Dynamo (mechanical culture), abstraction, industrialism, literalism, and the New England tradition can be traced in any number of Midwestern works.’ Dylan is in this regard a typical Midwestern pastoralist.13 Such examples of the idealized, rural archetype of woman are more than numerous: ‘Girl of the North Country’, ‘Tomorrow is a Long Time’, ‘Ballad in Plain D’, ‘Mama, You Been on My Mind’, ‘Love Minus Zero/No Limit’, ‘Sad- 12 George Kateb, ‘Friendship and Love’, Harold Bloom (ed.), Bloom’s Modern Critical In- terpretations: Emerson’s Essays, Chelsea House Publishers, New York, 2006, p. 208. 13 David Pichaske, op. cit., p. 124. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 170 Eyed Lady of the Lowlands’, ‘I’ll Remember You’, ‘One More Cup of Coffee (Valley Below)’, and among albums, Dylan’s most ‘pastoral’ one is Nashville Skyline (1969), which is, by no means accidentally, a true country album, both in the musical and in the poetic sense; it is dominated by songs where the visions of idealized love are interwoven with pastoral visions of nature (‘To Be Alone With You’, ‘I Threw It All Away’, ‘Lay, Lady, Lay’, ’Tonight I’ll Be Staying Here With You’). The album represents one more of many ‘turnovers’ in Dy- lan’s work – the lyrics are reduced, fit into the traditional structure of country music, without any allusions to post-modernist experiments from his rock’n’roll phase; in the moment of its creation, the album caused numerous controversies: immediately after the revolutionary 1968, at the moment when the American counter-culture and the new left wing reached their peak, Dylan, outside every stream, recorded an apolitical album in Nashville about love relationships and the idyllic country pastoral. However, through a retrospective reading of the album, in the context of Emersonian utopism, it is possible to recognize that Dylan’s apoliticality is in this case also illusory, and that one of the most ‘apo- litical’ of Dylan’s albums is possible to read in the clearly ideological key. However, it should be emphasized that Dylan’s pastoral, idealized vision of the romantic relationship is simultaneously one of the most disputable segments of his work: the ‘ideal’ woman is reduced to the level of an archetype, not rarely of even typical male phantasm; an active woman is bound to the alienation of the machine-like, consumerist culture, and in Dylan’s verses she frequently becomes criticized. Dylan’s goal is self-reliance, individual freedom and tran- scending the current conditions of existence, but it seems that this transcen- dence is reserved only for the male hero. The woman in Dylan’s verses is rarely an individual in the real sense, and even less ‘the heroine’, i.e. the protagonist. She’s more a passive mythical image that offers ‘shelter from the storm’ (as the song of the same name says) to the male, active hero: The women he praises are almost all ones who have given him shelter from the storm, who are there to allow him to go someplace that is innocent and in which he can escape from the harsh realities of a competitive social world that contains deceit and injustice. But they can do that only by completely removing themselves from the modern world. The way Dylan describes them, the most active thing they do is grow- ing their hair. Beauvoir complains of such women that, ‘The curse that is open woman as vassal consists, as we have seen, in the fact that she is not permitted to do any- thing; so she persists in the vain pursuit of her true being through narcissism, love, or religion’. Of course, Dylan feels safe and relaxed in the company of women who do little else but lie across his big brass bed.14 14 Kevin Krein and Abigail Levin, op. cit., p. 61. 171 In addition, what distinguishes Dylan from the typical machoist perception of the world, which dominated the rock’n’roll in the 1960s, despite the first hints of feminism, is the perception of the romantic relationship in a broader political and social context, with a tendency towards a renewal of the utopian way of thinking.15 Also interesting is Dylan’s period from the mid-1970s when he was gradually leaving the idealistic and pastoral view of romantic love (in order to exchange it for a religious view, by the end of the 1980s): Blood on The Tracks from 1975 is a paradigmatic album where the dominant motives in the songs are devastated love, loneliness, misunderstanding and separation, instead of the complete utopia of a realized love relationship; in this case, Dylan associ- ates personal themes with a broader social and ideological context – alienation, instability, and contradictions of historical development have an impact on the complexity of emotional relationships. Despite the evident machoism, Dylan came close to feminist practice at least in one segment: for Dylan, as well as for feminism, the personal is always political. Utopism of the Judeo-Christian myth The third segment in which Dylan’s utopism can be recognized is the tradi- tion of the Judeo-Christian myth; this religious aspect of Dylan’s pastoral can be recognized from the beginning of the 1960s, but it would culminate at the end of the 1970s – on the album John Wesley Harding (1967) and partly on The Basement Tapes that was recorded during 1967 and published later in 1975, and then on the albums from Dylan’s ‘Christian phase’ from the late 1970s and the beginning of the 1980s. The starting point of this religious utopism is the con- struction of the prophet figure as the basis of Dylan’s media image: the prophet is the man chosen by God in order to spread the revelation and to advocate God’s will before the people. The prophet is thus a strictly individualized char- acter, who speaks for and on behalf of the community; the prophet is the symbol 15 According to this, until the emergence of punk, the greatest female names were mostly related to strong, great male authors, and later they were recognized as ‘authentic’ authors: Wanda Jackson had been standing in the ‘shadow’ of Elvis Presley (in the context of rocka- billy), Joan Baez in the ‘shadow’ of Bob Dylan (in the context of folk), Emmylou Harris in the ‘shadow’ of Gram Parsons (in the context of country rock). These female artists had opened a road to female emancipation within rock’n’roll that would really take place in the mid-1970s with punk; in that sense, the key position was taken by Patti Smith’s album Horses, which seemed to be the first great, truly ‘female’ rock album. Also see: Simon Frith and Angela McRobbie, „Rock and Sexuality“, Simon Frith and Andrew Goodwin (eds.), On Record: Rock, Pop and the Written Word, Routledge, London and New York, 2006, pp. 371– 389; Mark Paytress, Patti Smith’s Horses and the remaking of Rock’n’Roll, Piatkus, London, 2010. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 172 of truth, and he stands for the feeling of continuity, i.e. a utopian projective relationship between the present and the future. In other words, the prophet acts within the dialectical tension and between criticism of the present moment and projectivity, i.e. the prediction, that is to say, between sin (alienation) and salva- tion. For his audience, since the earliest days, Dylan has been some kind of po- et-prophet: the audience has always experienced his music as a form of almost mystical knowledge that reveals the truth about the corruption and alienation of America, suffering, class and racial inequality; all this implies the presence of a strict, almost moralizing perception of the world. The sources of Dylan’s ‘pro- phetic’ utopism are, firstly, the Hebrew tradition, and then a specific heritage of the American Christian-oriented Romanticism. According to Stephen Scobie, The Hebrew prophet took on a public role, speaking about the moral and political health of a whole community. ‘A constant characteristic of Hebrew prophecy’, writes Peter Southwell, ‘was its concern with matters of national morality and social justice, with the character of God and his purposes for Israel and mankind.’ At various stages in his career, Dylan’s prophetic stance has been inflected in different ways: through his involvement with the civil rights movement of the early 1960s; through his ex- plicitly Christian preaching of the late 1970s; and through the tradition of American music which gives him the words to proclaim, in 1994, that we live in a ‘world gone wrong’. Always, however, the concern is public and, in a broad, nonpartisan sense, political.16 In that sense, the basis of the whole of Dylan’s work is the movement be- tween a projective and a critical ‘analysis’ of the current social order; his image of society is simultaneously utopian and apocalyptic, and it exists between the vision of the ideal, but still not attained future, and the dystopian present. On the other hand, the figure of the prophet is also a part of the specific American heritage, founded primarily on the Christian tradition of the 17th century American Puritans, as well as the poetic tradition of Anglo-American Romanticism, outlined by 19th century writers such as William Blake, Walt Whitman, and Henry Thoreau, and taken over in the 20th century by Allen Gins- berg, Woody Guthrie and Dylan himself. However, at the very centre of this tra- dition is, again, Ralph Waldo Emerson and his individualistic, anti-institutional views on religiousness, which are some kind of non-canonical reinterpretations of the utopian philosophy of St. Augustine. This relationship between Emerson and Augustinian utopism, that can directly be applied to the understanding of Dylan’s pastoral, is underlined by Harold Bloom; the Emersonian vision of the world rests upon the duality between the apocalyptic vision of reality, i.e. the individualized vision of sin and messianism, i.e. the progressive improvement 16 Stephen Scobie, Alias Bob Dylan Revisited, Red Deer Press, Alberta, 2003, p. 27. 173 of the self. For Emerson (as well as for Dylan), the apocalypse and utopia are the constituent elements of the ‘American sublime’: Augustine’s vision of the Fall, as Brown also shows, had changed from an early, quasi-Platonian belief, which was that Adam and Eve had ‘fallen’ into physicality: ‘that the prolific virtues they would have engendered in a purely “spiritual” existence had declined, with the Fall, into the mere literal flesh and blood of human families’. In the mature Augustinian doctrine, the dualizing split in human consciousness is no technical descent to a lower degree of being, but is the most willful and terrible of catastrophes. How does this compare with the catastrophe theory in Freud, and in Emerson? Do all three doctors-of-the-soul, Augustine, Emerson and Freud agree fundamentally that consciousness, as we know it, cannot inaugurate itself without a catastrophe? (...) This, I now assert, is the distinguishing mark of the specifically American Sublime, that it begins anew not with the restoration of rebirth, in the radically displaced Prot- estant pattern of the Wordsworthian Sublime, but that it is truly past even such dis- placement, despite the line from Edwards to Emerson that scholarship accurately continues to trace. Not merely rebirth, but the even more hyperbolic trope of self-re- begetting, is the starting point of the last Western Sublime, the great sunset of self- hood in the Evening Land.17 For Bloom, this tension between alienation and salvation is not only a part of Emerson’s political vision of society, but a much more typical, Emersonian conception of subjectivity that Bloom associates with Freud’s ‘catastrophe’, i.e. ‘the Fall’ is an element in constituting the subject, which is split between the process of repression and sublimation. In other words, the dialectic of ‘apoca- lypse’ and ‘deliverance’, criticism and projections, but within the process of individuation, are the constituent elements of the Emersonian vision of transfor- mative subjectivity, i.e. the vision of the ‘attainable, but still not attained self’, in keeping with the principles of ‘moral perfectionism’. That is how it is relatively easy to understand the changes in Dylan’s po- litical program; Dylan’s utopia moved from a traditionally, Marxist political utopism that was cherished in the American folk revival from the beginning of the 1960s, to the utterly individualized, anti-collectivist, Emersonian utopism from the late 1960s, resting upon the rejection of all grand, collectivist, politi- cal projects, that were cherished in both folk and the American new left-wing and counter-culture, on the whole. His early folk songs have a clear program 17 Harold Bloom, ‘Introduction: The American Sublime’, Harold Bloom (ed.), Bloom’s Modern Critical Interpretations: Emerson’s Essays, Chelsea House Publishers, New York, 2006, pp. 4, 8. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 174 structure, and one can comment that they are often examples, in the true sense of the word, of ‘engaged’ political song; social criticism in them is almost never satirical, but Dylan binds the apocalyptical vision of modern America with poli- tics, i.e. with the social role of the poet and the musician. The dominant themes he deals with are universality of individual freedom, i.e. the themes of political, class and racial equality. A turnabout followed in the mid-1960s, and his rejec- tion of the ideology of the American New Left culminated in the albums after his ‘electric phase’, when he came nearer to the tradition of American country music. Utopism in John Wesley Harding is more religious than political, more individualist than collectivist, more mystical than programmatic. However, John Wesley Harding, perhaps, has the ‘cleanest’ structure where the mentioned dia- lectics between the critical and projective aspect of Dylan’s music are in ques- tion: the album is not directly political, but it is ideological criticism transposed into the language of biblical parables – the A side of the album is dominated by songs with motives of sin, alienation, temptation and death, while the B side offers the motives of deliverance and projection. Seth Rogovoy points out this individualistic character of Dylan’s utopism from the end of the 1960s, on the example of The Basement Tapes: Beginning with the songs on The Basement Tapes, Dylan’s interests around this time shift from the merely prophetic toward the mystic. It’s hard to separate the two, as the prophetic experience is at heart a mystical one – a Prophet, inspired by the divine, has undergone something of a mystical experience. And much of the basis of Jewish mysticism comes in the form of prophetic visions of the Godhead, for example, Ezekiel’s chariot, and in vivid descriptions of the end of days and the Messianic era. It is precisely this aspect of the prophetic tradition – call it prophetic mysticism – which now engages Bob Dylan intensely, more so than, say, that of social criticism. This corresponds with a sense that with time and maturity Dylan has grown con- cerned with personal matters and less with social critique, although, as we shall see, the pendulum will swing back before settling somewhere in between the two polari- ties. 18 Between utopia and nostalgia: The Basement Tapes The Basement Tapes is a 1975 album that consists of a series of record- ings which were released during 1967 by Dylan and the members of the-band- to-be The Band; the recordings had been circulating as bootleg, and later the album comprised dozens of recordings that had originally consisted of covers of traditional folk songs, improvisations and completely new songs, many of 18 Seth Rogovoy, Bob Dylan: Prophet, Mystic, Poet, Scribner, New York, 2009, p. 123; cf. also: Christopher Ricks, Dylan’s Visions of Sin, ECCO, New York, 2005. 175 which would remain unfinished ‘sketches’. I shall not go into a close reading of the mentioned recordings, but I am going to focus on the interpretation offered by Greil Marcus, one of the most significant American interpreters of Dylan’s work, in the book entitled Invisible Republic, which was created from the ‘side notes’ for the mentioned Dylan album. Generally speaking, Marcus’s approach is certainly unique when it comes to the interpretation of rock music: he is a critic with nomadic principles who functions on the border of musical jour- nalism, musical criticism, and literature, but also ‘serious’, i.e. philosophically grounded cultural theory. Marcus treats pop phenomena as symptoms within Western culture, putting them into inter-textual relations with painting, art, so- cial movements, i.e. material practices within a certain historically given so- ciety. In his book, Markus does not offer ‘the analysis’ of the album released by Dylan and The Band, but the writing that steps into the already mentioned inter-textual relationship with music, practically complementing it in its own medium; the book functions almost as a paraliterary ‘stream of consciousness’ that has related Dylan’s album to phenomena such as American folk music, Cal- vinist Christianity, mining trade-union movements from the early 1900s, and the American politics of the second half of the 20th century. So, this book is on the edge of criticism, literature and theory; in its very centre dwells the notion of utopia.19 In Marcus’s interpretation of Dylan’s album it is possible to recognize the double determination of the notion of utopia – first of all, the determination of utopia as a pastoral vision of the ideal city; in that sense, utopia is viewed as an ideal place, or non-place, i.e. ‘a place without the place, we see ourselves where we are not, in the imaginary space that opens up, potentially, from the other side of its surface, we are there where we are not, and what is more important, we see ourselves where we do not exist’.20 Marcus uses the metaphor of an ideal city in order to describe Dylan’s relationship towards the vision of a better, more perfect society, that emerged through the musical and cultural dialogue with the folk heritage that was collected by Harry Smith in his famous Anthology of American Folk Music; Dylan’s world, i.e. the vision of the world presented in The Basement Tapes is some kind of experimental reflection of the social pas- toral that Smith’s anthology sketches. In the paraliterary, parasurrealistic key, Marcus sketches two ideal cities, two possible visions of a better, more humane community, which society constructs as the answer to the antagonisms of the current order. The view of Smith’s folk world (which Marcus describes with the 19 Greil Marcus, Invisible Republic: Bob Dylan’s Basement Tapes, Picador, London, 1998. 20 Branislav Dimitrijević, „Heterotopografija“, Irina Subotić (ed.), Umetnost na kraju veka, Clio, Belgrade, 1998. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 176 metaphor of a city under the imaginary name of Smithville) is a nostalgic view of an idealistic, rural community uncontaminated by industrialization and me- chanical civilization; Dylan’s world (a new ideal city named Kill Devil Hills) is the actualization of the utopian impulse in the moment when American society, under the wave of the Vietnam War, imperialism and consumerism, has departed from the principles of universal freedom and equality. The two ideal cities are related to each other as the head and tail of the same utopian vision; the view of the past gives directions for an emancipating vision of the future: Each time a new key opened a door, America opened up into both the future and the past – and it is perhaps only a progressive notion of time that leads one to presume that when Dylan spoke of an America that was wide open, he meant open to what was to come, not to what had been, open to the question of who and what Americans might become, not to the question of who and where they came from. There is no nostalgia in the basement recordings; they are too cold, pained, or ridiculous for that. The mechanics of time in the music are not comforting. In the basement, the past is alive to the degree that the future is open, when one can believe that the country re- mains unfinished, even unmade; when the future is foreclosed, the past is dead. How the future depends on the past is more mysterious. (...) in the basement you could believe in the future only if you could believe in the past, and you could believe in the past only if you could touch it, mold it like the clay from which the past had molded you, and change it. (...) Like the records Smith collected, the known and unknown basement tapes together make a town - a town that is also a country, an imagined America with a past and a future, neither of which seems quite as imaginary as any act taking place in the pres- ent of the songs.21 The vision of the ideal city that functions as a corrective narrative within the current historical moment is related to the vision of utopia as a transitory instance, as a project of incessant transformation, i.e. the perception of utopia as a processuality: at this point, Marcus associates The Basement Tapes, i.e. the fragmented, unfinished structure of the tapes from Woodstock, their bond with the past, and their critical relationship towards the present (where ‘art, religion, and politics’ are parts of the same process), with a great utopian project that was sketched by Walter Benjamin in his unfinished work Passagen-Werk. It is one of the most ambitious, in the true sense, utopian theoretical essays of the 20th cen- 21 Greil Marcus, op. cit., pp. 70, 128. 177 tury: Benjamin starts from the motive of the 19th-century Paris, around which he arranges a critical image of the whole bourgeois culture, building a synthetic analysis of the capitalistic relations of the production. During a long period of time, Benjamin complemented his work with a series of fragmented images, depictions, the accompanying texts that very often had only distant matching points with the main ‘theme’ of his monumental study. Benjamin’s ‘magnum opus’ between 1927 and 1940 became some sort of personal obsession with collecting, archiving and collaging, which would, in the end, as a utopian ten- dency for the ‘total’ work of philosophy, remain unfinished. This is a typical, modern work of philosophy with processuality in its centre; similarly, Smith’s anthology and the monumental collection of poems, improvisations, sketches, and covers that include tapes from Woodstock, are examples of ongoing, never finished, Utopian-progressivist projects; like Benjamin’s work, The Basement Tapes remained an unfinished album, which is more a sketch, a draft that binds the past with the utopian vision of the future, and not a complete unit that would attain at least a pseudo-ideal form. Conclusion: Dylan, pop culture and the criticism of American democracy Finally, one must ask a question considering Dylan’s radical individual- ism and pastoral utopism, regarding the social and historical context in which it emerges, and that context is a project of American liberal democracy of the second half of the 20th century. Dylan’s work rests upon the idea of perma- nent criticism of all the ‘official’ institutions of the liberal capitalistic soci- ety – starting from the university, the political institutions, political parties, to the capitalistic economic order: in Dylan’s poetry, the institutions of American liberalism are presented as essentially corrupt and incapable of guaranteeing the individual, the principles of freedom, equality and the individual develop- ment of their personality. Dylan’s utopism is an answer to a sort of ‘contami- nation’ of the American democratic order. However, if Dylan’s utopism is not leftist-collectivist, if Dylan changes the language of the materialistic analysis of equality, within the American capitalistic system, for the idealized language of the rural pastoral, should it be written off as naive idealism, or as a form of radical individualist elitism, in which a contempt for all collective emancipat- ing projects is built? This is one of the central questions that Stanley Cavell asks with regard to Emerson’s individualistic moral perfectionism: can we use Emerson, in the current postmodern environment, as a relevant reference for critical reflection on modern democracy? Here Cavell enters a dialogue with the American liberal theorist John Rawls, who treats Emerson as a form of elitist, i.e. teleological Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 178 philosophical and ideological platform. Radical individualism, at worst, im- plies the demand to reject all the institutions of the liberal order, i.e. there is a platform which demands the totalitarian suspension of all democratic principles (the extreme form of individualism); at best, in its moderate, Emersonian op- tion, individualism is a teleological political platform that rests upon the ideal idea of maximization of the potential of the individual, or certain (often privi- leged) classes in keeping with the concept of ‘high culture’: ‘In the moderate version, it is merely one principle amongst others and directs society to arrange institutions and to define the duties and obligations of individuals so as to maxi- mize the achievement of human excellence in art, science and culture.’22 On the other hand, Cavell rejects such a teleological interpretation of Emerson, and puts his moral perfectionism into the centre of democratic debate, i.e. of what Rawls determines as ‘the debate on justice’. For Cavell, moral perfectionism is the individualist, but not the atomist, i.e. the elitist ethical position: Emerson also takes over Plato’s assertion, according to which, in order to constitute real democratic social relationships, it is necessary to walk the path from the prin- ciple of ‘being one’ to the system where the individual is a representative of society as a whole: I might at once declare that the path from the Republic’s picture of the soul’s journey (perfectible to the pitch of philosophy by only a few, forming an aristocratic class) to the democratic need for perfection, is a path from the idea of there being one (call him Socrates), who represents for each of us the height of the journey, to the idea of each of us being representative for each of us – an idea that is a threat as much as opportunity.23 In that sense, moral perfectionism is the practice of criticism of democracy within democracy; the freedom of practicing radical individualistic utopism is possible only within the democratic order: If there is perfectionism not only compatible with democracy but necessary to it, it lies not in excusing democracy for its inevitable failures, or looking to rise above them, but in teaching how to respond to those failures, and to one’s compromise by them, otherwise than by excuse or withdrawal. To teach this is an essential task in Rawl’s criticism of democracy from within.24 Emerson’s moral perfectionism and his thesis on ‘self-reliance’, i.e. Dy- lan’s pastoral utopism as the objectification of Emerson’s thesis within the cur- 22 Stephen Mulhall, Stanley Cavell: Philosophy’s Recounting of the Ordinary, Clarendon Press, Oxford, 1998, p. 267. 23 Stanley Cavell, Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome: The Constitution of Emerso- nian Perfectionism, The University of Chicago Press, Chicago and London, 1990, p. 9. 24 Ibid, p. 18. 179 rent postmodern pop culture are in the very centre of what Cavell determines as the ethical debate on justice and the just society, i.e. democracy. Cavell ap- proaches the reflection on democracy through reflection on morals and morally correct action, in Wittgenstein’s spirit, from radically anti-essentialist positions; for Cavell, there is no transcendental, metaphysical foundation of moral values; ethics is founded in language, and as such, it rests not upon the universal ethical imperatives, but on grammatical rules defined by the community, through the process of communication. The question of ethics is thus the question of proce- dures and not conclusions; ethics is a dynamic debate between the members of a community, and not a static and unchangeable facticity. Thus, for Cavell, there is no morality by itself, but the conditions of ethically correct action are defined through the relationship with another: ‘In effect, participation in this practice involves declaring something about oneself and discovering something about others; moral discussion is an arena for the revelation of oneself to another.’25 Or as Cavell puts it, the point is to determine what position you are taking, that is to say, what position you are taking responsibility for – and whatever it is, one I can respect. What is at stake in such discussion is not, or not exactly, whether you know our world, but whether, or to what extent, we are to live in the same moral universe. What is at stake in such examples as we’ve so far noticed is not the validity of morality as a whole, but the nature or quality of our relationship with one another.26 In other words, to act politically within a certain social context means to speak on behalf of others, and to leave the possibility for others to speak on behalf of us; the constitution of a political identity is the practice of self-knowl- edge through a relationship with other members of a community. However, the moment when the ideals of the community, defined through the practice of moral debate between their members are abandoned, the individual is left with the possibility to ‘withdraw consent’ in terms of political participation in that community. This is exactly the practice of Dylan’s utopism that appears in the moment when the ideals of universal equality become abandoned; this is in fact a demand not for the elitist privatization of political speech, but a demand for the redefinition of the ‘polis’, i.e. of society as a whole. The ‘withdrawal of consent’ in the process of political participation is a demand for the reconstruc- tion of the principle of universality, and not its deconstruction, it is a criticism of democracy within democracy, and not a demand for its abolition: Dissent is also an attempt to speak for others, and if it involves rebuking some who claimed to speak for the dissenter, it is intended to bring them back to a position in 25 Stephen Mulhall, op. cit., p. 41. 26 Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason, quoted from Stephen Mulhall, ibid., p. 41. Dedić, N.: Pleading For Utopia: American Pastoral In Bob Dylan’s Music (161–180) New Sound 40, II/ 2012 180 which they can continue to do so; it is an attempt to restore or redefine the nature and extent of the polis, not an attempt to move beyond its bounds. (...) When citizens such as Thoreau resort to civil disobedience, they are not attempting to privatize their political voice, to transform it into something non-political, but are rather using it to rebuke their fellow citizens in the name of something to which they are jointly committed.27 This is exactly Dylan’s position: the pastoral, utopian withdrawal from the political community is a tendency towards the reconstruction of the original ideals of equality and egalitarianism that the community abandoned, as well as the tendency to define the position from which the individual speaks on be- half of others; i.e. withdrawal from the political community, in keeping with the principles of self-reliance and moral perfectionism, means defining a new form of universality which is founded on the exception. In that sense, Dylan’s individualistic utopism is not the elitist rejection of democracy, but exactly the opposite – Dylan is an example of how pop culture functions as the necessary internal corrective of a democracy. In other words, Dylan is a typical product of the American liberal project, but also the place of its radical utopian criticism. Translated by Ivana Marjanović 27 Stephen Mulhall, ibid., p. 63. 
work_owrujqvp2jfufifezl4piugudu	----	Carver, Cavell, and the Uncanniness of the Ordinary Carver, Cavell, and the Uncanniness of the Ordinary Niklas Forsberg New Literary History, Volume 49, Number 1, Winter 2018, pp. 1-22 (Article) Published by Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ Access provided at 6 Apr 2021 01:59 GMT from Carnegie Mellon University ] https://doi.org/10.1353/nlh.2018.0000 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/691215 https://doi.org/10.1353/nlh.2018.0000 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/691215 New Literary History, 2018, 49: 1–22 Carver, Cavell, and the Uncanniness of the Ordinary Niklas Forsberg On the Turning Away A typical philosophical move is to divide our world into two. In its most general variety such a division leads to a distinction between appearance and reality. In more subtle versions it comes out as the difference between the just government and the world we live in, between the true me and the lowlife I am, between our emotionally charged responses to each other in contrast to strictly rational ones, etc. We are supposed to move away from the ordinary world toward a better one, from our ordinary selves toward our true selves; and philosophy is often thought to be the prime mover here. This sense of a doubled world is so common in philosophy that it would be more accurate to say that philosophy begins in a turn away from the ordinary, rather than that it begins in wonder (as suggested by Plato and Aristotle).1 The sense of a doubled world is also inherent in both the common idea that our ordinary language is fluctuating and vague, and in that idea’s subsequent quest for a more precise language. The quest for a more accurate language has taken the form of a search for a formal language, a scientific language, even a mathematical language; it has also taken the form of a turn to literature, poetry, and nearly all other art forms. Differences aside, something is exactly the same in Gottlob Frege’s quest for a Begriffsschrift and Martin Heidegger’s call for a poeti- cal form of “thinking” (which can no longer be called “philosophy”). But if philosophy often—though certainly not always—begins in a turn away from the ordinary, and if philosophy (as we know it) is an expression of a certain kind of dissatisfaction or disappointment with the ordinary, then one is more or less forced to ask questions of this sort: Where does this disappointment come from? What spurred this desire to escape the (apparently) fluctuating character of our everyday lives in language? Is this dissatisfaction with the everyday well founded? And why are we to assume that philosophical clarity is to be found by new literary history2 means of a deliberate turning away from that which troubles, or disturbs, us? These questions should trouble us. Yet it strikes me that these kinds of questions do not get a great deal of attention in philosophy. Does this mean that the dissatisfaction with the ordinary is so well established or well founded that no one needs to talk about it? Perhaps people have already looked closely at the or- dinary and discovered that there was nothing to be found. Or do we have reasons to think that one cannot approach these questions without lapsing into “mere” (meager, unscientific) psychologizing? Or does it mean that we do not even know that we are turning our backs to the ordinary in philosophy, by means of philosophizing? In what follows, I will discuss three immensely difficult (as I see it) topics. One is the value of attempting to return philosophy home, as it were, to the everyday and the ordinary. One of my leading thoughts here is that ordinary language is not just a given, there for us to take in and relate to in our different ways of philosophizing. Rather I want to underline the ways that even ordinary sense is something we may have to work to attain a clear sense of, the kind of work pursued and encouraged by figures such as J. L. Austin and Ludwig Wittgenstein. The biggest philosophical mistake is the conviction that we already have “ordinary sense” framed. The second topic concerns the philosophical value of thinking about literature, especially a kind of literature that does not aim to be “philo- sophical.” My discussion of the philosophical value of literature that does not aim to be philosophical is, obviously, meant to put pressure on our conviction that we already know what “the philosophical” is and where to look for it. Raymond Carver’s short stories contain no philosophy, as we know it, but they must be seen as adequate pictures of what our lives in language may look like, and so we may think about them as exercises of seeing what matters, of uncovering the point, force, importance, thrust, of a small piece of everyday life. There is no self-evident “philosophical content” that Carver’s short stories convey, and no position for which they present arguments. But he has the ability to bring our everyday lives into view in a plain (not moralistic, not didactic) way that makes the familiar return to us in a new, uncanny, way. He thereby helps us see the role that linguistic instability and vulnerability plays in human life. My discussion of the first two topics here will also serve to shed light on some of Stanley Cavell’s most, well, melodramatic thoughts—thoughts in the expression of which Cavell presents himself at his most vulner- able, perhaps even at his weakest. I am thinking about some of his more baffling remarks in which he, apparently aiming to speak for all of us, suggests not only that there’s a truth in skepticism, but that skepticism is 3carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary part of the human condition—remarks like “there is no assignable end to the depth of us to which language reaches; that nevertheless there is no end to our separateness. We are endlessly separate, for no reason.”2 How could one not instinctively pull back in the face of such exclama- tions? Can we even imagine somebody saying “Yes, that sounds plausible” as a response to these kinds of thoughts? I think one ought to initially reject them and then work one’s way through them, in order to hear them right. The Unknown First and the Most Important Aspects One of the most persistent myths about philosophies that “proceed from the ordinary” is that any kind of philosophy that emphasizes the ordinary does so in order to find the true and original meaning of our words, uncontaminated by “philosophy.” The perseverance with which people insist on thinking that ordinary language philosophers must argue that ordinary language constitutes a philosophical standard of correct- ness, and that uses of language that deviate from ordinary language are thereby faulty, is just astonishing. This is pretty much as far away as one may come from what I think of as the real significance of philosophi- cal attention to the everyday. I want to shed light on how figures such as Austin and Wittgenstein think of the everyday and the sense of our ordinary lives in language as being far from simple, as well as immensely difficult to bring into view. It is precisely the failure to acknowledge these kinds of difficulties that often leads philosophers into philosophical problems and metaphysical speculation. Austin, for example, is quite clear on this point: “Ordinary language is not the last word: in principle it can everywhere be supplemented and improved upon and superseded. Only remember, it is the first word.”3 Ordinary language, by itself, does not offer a way out of philosophical problems by means of supplying us with a standard of correctness or some kind of blueprint for how to solve all philosophical problems. It’s the first word. Not the last. But what does that mean, more specifically? Here it is, I think, quite easy to halt in one’s thinking too soon. A common way of thinking with and about Austin is to say that he suggests that a philosophical or technical use of a concept has its own context, just like a scientific, well-defined technical concept has a limited range of understandable uses. And we often get into philosophical problems because we do not pay enough attention to these barriers (between, say, ordinary and technical, or philosophical and scientific, or everyday and theoretical). new literary history4 Philosophical problems occur, according to this view, when two con- texts clash, and when we then solve problems by means of recognizing that they do so. Once we have sorted things into the right boxes, the work of the philosopher is done! According to this kind of reading, the first-word/second-word remark merely tells us that a second word, a scientific, specialized, theoretical, technical use of a concept, may oc- casionally replace the first word and become a new first, as it were. The ordinary language philosopher becomes something like a housekeeper of language. “Don’t mix and blend,” he says, “that just creates a mess.” For if you do, the ordinary language philosopher will threaten to force his way into your house and tidy things up. If this was all there was to it, the bad reputation of ordinary language philosophy would be well deserved. What I want to suggest, however, is that somebody like Austin gives us more than reasons to think deeply about how scientific, theoretical, and technical uses of language differ from language as used in everyday life. What we need to acknowledge (and what I take to be missing in the reception of Austin’s thought, even among many of his followers and admirers) is that the ordinary is not simply a given, there for us to just take in, as it were. So, in an ever so important sense, even the first word is yet to be discovered. Furthermore, if the ordinary is not always known or clear to us, and if philosophy nev- ertheless cannot disconnect itself from the ordinary, it follows that there is a sense in which the discovery of the first word also is a (re)discovery of philosophy. Philosophy will often and continuously “come to us” in unexpected ways and be discovered in places where we did not expect to find it.4 The word “philosophy” does not simply denote a fixed sub- ject matter, a specific field of inquiry. Incidentally, this also helps us see why a philosopher who discovers philosophy anew (just like Austin did) will often be accused (just like Austin was) of “not doing philosophy.” I want to suggest that “ordinary language” is an important site for philosophical reflection, but not because it is simple and clear. Rather, I want to show that it is possible to be dissatisfied with the philosophical aspiration to escape the ordinary (to rise above it, as it were), and to still think that the everyday and ordinary language are deeply problematic and immensely difficult to understand. This means, by extension, that a philosophy that evades the everyday thereby evades its own seriousness and is quite likely to betray its own aspirations. A flight from ordinary language is a flight from philosophy. Many forms of philosophical reasoning about specific concepts (phi- losophers always creatively dub these “x”), take this shape: 5carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary i. “This is what we ordinarily mean when we say ‘x.’” ii. “That is a naive, faulty, confused, corrupt way of thinking about ‘x.’” iii. “I will now offer you a new way to think about ‘x’ in a way that is not naive, faulty, confused, or corrupt (or all of the above).” But what one often does not realize, or examine philosophically, is pre- cisely one’s own conviction that this is what these concepts ordinarily mean, as assumed in (i). At this point I find Austin and Wittgenstein extremely helpful. They manage to make clear that it is not so much the escape from the ordinary itself that is the problem, as it is the idea that one has managed to frame the sense (in the singular) of some word of ordinary language. The problem becomes truly important if one then goes on to think of oneself as held back personally and philosophically by, say, that particular inflection of a concept. We must find ways to make clear that our lives in language are much more complicated than philosophers tend to think, and we must find ways to let our thoughts linger in the ordinary and not move on too soon.5 The powerful reference to things we ordinarily say enters philosophy as the attempt to bring a manifold of uses into view (i); not as a correc- tive recommendation for how to talk, as in (iii) above. Austin argues, for example, that “over-simplification, schematization, and constant obsessive repetition of the same small range of jejune ‘examples’ are . . . far too common to be dismissed as an occasional weakness of philosophers.”6 In direct contrast to the received view of this strand of thought, Austin is abundantly clear that, in his view, the point of ordinary language phi- losophy is to show that “our ordinary words are much subtler in their uses, and mark many more distinctions, than philosophers have realized; and that the facts of perception, as discovered by, for instance, psycholo- gists but also as noted by common mortals, are much more diverse and complicated than has been allowed for. It is essential, here as elsewhere, to abandon old habits of Gleichschaltung, the deeply ingrained worship of tidy-looking dichotomies.”7 Therefore, to learn how to see—and so to discover philosophy anew—is a matter of patience and of learning to let one’s eyes remain still and take in what is really there.8 It is a matter of waiting, of not thinking that one already knows, and of being able to acknowledge that truth may unfold in front of us when we least expect it. This is at least part of what Wittgenstein is after when he says that “the aspects of things that are most important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity. (One is unable to notice something—because it is always before one’s eyes.) The real foundations of his enquiry do not strike a new literary history6 man at all.”9 To perceive the everyday and to become clear about one’s own ordinary language are tasks, achievements.10 I now want to connect these reflections to the idea that the philo- sophical importance of literature cannot be reduced to its capacity to express, illustrate, test, exemplify, or elucidate “a philosophy.” (I am also suspicious of further shadowy ideas about, say, literature’s ability to express the inexpressible, but these questions require a different sort of discussion.) For if literature’s role in philosophy is to illustrate, exemplify, test, or express “a philosophy,” then “the philosophy” must be in place already at the outset—the thinking behind it already done, as it were. Literature is reduced to something that is at the service of philosophy. I do not mean to suggest that these kinds of employments of literature are necessarily bad or mistaken. It is quite possible, for example, that one will understand Martha Nussbaum’s Aristotelean virtue theory better by means of illustrative descriptions of a kind of virtuous character, and it is perhaps possible to think fruitfully about the limits of, say, utilitarian ethics by means of reading Dostoyevsky, in the same way as it may be striking to think about thought experiments such as Robert Nozick’s “experience machine” or Hilary Putnam’s brain in a vat after watching The Matrix.11 But often, in such cases, the philosophical thought itself is already clearly articulated before we enter the work of art, and there is little, if any, room for the thought that the artwork itself is a piece of philosophy, or philosophizes on its own (with or without the intention of the author). We need a way to think about literature as “having its own say”—as being a place of discovery, a work of attention, and a form of reflection upon the human condition, that challenges philosophy (as we know it) and brings something that “we did not know we knew” into view.12 If we want to reach clarity about the “aspects of things that are most important for us,” as Wittgenstein suggested, we just might need a presentation of all those things that are “hidden because of their simplicity and fa- miliarity.”13 If I am right in suggesting that one important route to bad philosophizing is the conviction that we already know what sense there is to be found in the ordinary, then we just may need a presentation of what is “always before our eyes” that not only brings it into view, but also presents the familiar as something unfamiliar, the homely as strange. We just might need to learn that we are not as at home as we think we are in the language we call ours. Cue Carver. 7carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary On Gifts and Apologies Carver reports that he once walked around for several days with the sentence “He was running the vacuum cleaner when the telephone rang” in his head, knowing that “there was a story there and that it wanted telling.”14 It strikes me as quite significant that Carver, an author who writes fiction—that is, “makes things up” in some sense—talks about his own work, the writing of short stories, in terms of discoveries. As an author one needs, Carver seems to suggest, to wait for the story to unfold itself. “The first sentence of the story,” Carver says, “had offered itself to me when I began it.”15 He also claims that the story “wanted telling.” A sentence reported itself, and thus it became clear to Carver that there was a story there that wanted to be told. “The intentionality of unwritten stories” sounds like a rather suspicious subject matter for philosophical discussion, and Carver’s claim will prob- ably seem strange to some. But it foregrounds the idea that the stories writers of fiction tell come from somewhere too. That they are “made up” does not disqualify that fact. It also matters that not all stories that are relevant and demand our attention are overly dramatic. And it matters too that seeing what matters, uncovering the point, force, importance, thrust, of a small piece of everyday life, is quite a difficult endeavor, which may require some detailed and patient work on our behalf. This is precisely what I take Carver’s short stories to be doing. They are like cross-sections of everyday life. They are precise and accurate, and they demand our attention without “having something (recognizable as specifically philosophical) to say.” They are not moralistic, not didactic. Carver has an ability to bring the familiar to us in a stark, straightforward way, so that the familiar returns to us aslant, as uncanny. One may perhaps speak about a “Carver mood”—to make contact with Emerson: “Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and as we pass through them they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus”—but then one must be able to say something about what that mood is, and what that mood allows one to see, or teaches one to be attuned to, or what kind of attention that kind of mood enables.16 The mood that Carver invites us to pass through is not formed out of words and works of kings, great battles, grand human conquests, and so on and so forth. Carver, one may say, follows Emerson on this point in his effort to “embrace the common” and “explore and sit at the feet of the familiar, the low.”17 This does not mean that Carver’s pictures of human life are without edge. But there are various ways to portray the new literary history8 wounded and the vulnerable. Husbands and wives may have been, and may still be, hurting each other. His short stories are not enactments of the historian’s “great battles of humankind,” and if they are related to a major event, they tend to describe something after the event—it has already happened. Carver is not an author who bangs his drum, but one who ends a poem called Drinking While Driving with “Any minute now, something will happen.”18 If there’s drama and death in one of his stories, the deadly deeds are mentioned almost in passing: “Jerry used the same rock on both girls, first on the girl called Sharon and then on the one that was supposed to be Bill’s.”19 And then the whole thing ends, abruptly. So what we get are detailed descriptions of life in-between. The ca- tastrophes and miracles have already happened or have not happened yet—and the more dramatic events of his short stories are mentioned in passing. It matters that short stories—Carver’s preferred form—are, well, short. They begin too late and end too soon. Listen, for example, to this opening of one of Carver’s short stories: Vera’s car was there, no others, and Burt gave thanks for that. He pulled into the drive and stopped beside the pie he’d dropped the night before. It was still there, the aluminum pan upside down, a halo of pumpkin filling on the pavement. It was the day after Christmas. He’d come on Christmas day to visit his wife and children. Vera had warned him beforehand. She’d told him the score. She’d said he had to be out by six o’clock because her friend and his children were coming for dinner.20 It is hard to imagine an opening that would sound more like Carver than this. Nothing fancy, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet it is also quite clear that all is not well. For starters, there’s the pumpkin pie and the aluminum pan on the driveway. It was dropped the night before, so we know that there has been time to clean it up, but nobody has done so. Did they not want to? Did they not care? Somebody has acted as if this accident never happened, or has been too upset to care, or has willfully left the mess, as if it were an emblem of something. Some misfortune of a “domestic” nature happened last night, and we may assume that anyone who passes by will notice. Burt has been allowed to come and visit his wife and children. But a man who is allowed to visit his wife and children is a husband in a specific sense. And given that she has the custody of the kids, and that she has the power to dictate the rules for his visit—“She’d told him the score”—we may also assume that he, Burt, is not in a good place; that this divorce was a hard blow to him. With good reason, perhaps. For we are (are we not?) ready, after nothing more than eight sentences, 9carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary to think that somehow, he is to blame. And we also know (don’t we?) that the “friend” who is supposed to arrive with his kids after six o’clock is not just any old friend. But a great deal of the story depends on the fact that for Burt, Vera’s friend can be no more than a friend, cannot be a “boyfriend,” he just cannot be. (Classic case of denial, of course.) The following paragraph begins to describe Burt’s visit on Christmas day, and I want to discuss this passage in relation to these questions: What reasons do we have to say that Burt’s separateness—his existence as tormented by a separation, the divorce—tells us something important about the uncanniness of the everyday and ordinary language? Can this help us see that this form of uncanniness may be something that spurs philosophical confusion and reflection and, in some cases, typically philosophical aversive maneuvers? So, here’s a glimpse at Burt’s visit on Christmas day: They had sat in the living room and solemnly opened the presents Burt had brought over. They had opened his packages while other packages wrapped in festive paper lay piled under the tree waiting for six o’clock. He had watched his children open their gifts, waited while Vera undid the ribbon on hers. He saw her slip off the paper, lift the lid, take out the cashmere sweater. “It’s nice,” she said. “Thank you, Burt.” “Try it on,” his daughter said. “Put it on,” his son said. Burt looked at his son, grateful for his backing him up. She did try it on. Vera went to the bedroom and came out with it on. “It’s nice,” she said. “It’s nice on you,” Burt said, and felt a welling in his chest. He opened his gifts. From Vera, a gift certificate at Sondheim’s men’s store. From his daughter, a matching comb and brush. From his son, a ballpoint pen. (ST 105–06)21 It is clear that Burt is there only on sufferance—the real festivities begin at six o’clock. I want us to focus now on the ways we talk about gifts and giving, and on the way that this passage includes a claim of sorts about the nature of a gift. One common way to think about the things we keep is that they are what they are in themselves, as it were. They have a set of properties or features. They often have a specific function. They can be replaced if they break. They are objects, and in that sense objective, in contrast to subjective. And so one may feel inclined to think about the value and importance of a gift in terms of the qualities of the thing. new literary history10 But is the value and importance of the cashmere sweater, this sweater, possible to measure by means of describing its objective features? It’s cashmere. Cashmere sweaters usually come in sizes that do not fit all. (It is beige, we are told in the nonedited version.) So should we say that this was a good gift, the right one perhaps, if Vera likes beige cashmere sweaters in the right size? And would it be fair to say that the authen- ticity of Vera’s gratitude depends on whether or not Burt managed to make the right connections between the objective features of a thing and Vera’s preferences? It looks good, the kids say. But Burt is then quick to stress that it looks good on her (Vera). He wants the sweater to mean more than what we can discern from the objective features of the sweater. He wants to say that she is beautiful. It wouldn’t look good on any woman. This gift is only in a limited sense for her. It would be more correct to say that it is about her, or about them. And so, in this setting, her response to the gift received is a response to his attempt to reach out. And suppose that she really did not like the sweater and said “This is not me,” or “This color doesn’t become me,” or “How much do you really think I weigh?” Are we now to say that they would be in disagreement about the features or properties of the object? No. They are close enough to give gifts to one another. But they are also separate(d). Different from each other, held at a distance from each other. And so the gift comes in as a sort of measurement of both closeness and distance. It seems clear to me that Burt’s heart is calling out for her to like the gift, because if she does, it would be a mark of a reduced distance between them. The gift thus marks these individuals as individualities, as separate from each other, at the same time as it elucidates the bond between them, and the vulnerability of that bond. What the gift, the thing, is is far from unimportant, but the giving of the gift here reveals something about the uncanniness of the ordinary. The act of giving may bring the bond between two persons, and the vulnerability of that bond, into broad daylight. It may show that we are exposed to one another. Our intimacy, the bond between us, is made visible by the ways we talk to each other, and perhaps this bond is nothing less and nothing more than the ways we talk to each other. From a naturalistic perspective, what we say may be nothing more than “thank you.” But the physical utterance of a sequence of words is not how we measure the weight of them. The “thank you” that says “Yes, please come home again” is quite different from the “thank you” that says “It’s nice, but you need to go now.” The meaning of a gift—and our shared understanding of what gifts are—cannot be disconnected from what happened before and what happens after, the concrete exchange of things. The sense of what hap- 11carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary pens in a scene (or in a short story, or in a concrete exchange of words and things) falls back upon what’s off-frame—behind it and ahead of it. This is something that Carver teaches us. He does that, I assume, without wanting to give us his “philosophy of . . . something”—say, the gift, language, communication, relationships, love, emotions, fatherhood, marriage. And it strikes me that the eventuality of somebody “discovering” that Carver actually had this or that intention changes nothing. What makes this passage philosophically relevant is not that Carver wanted to make one claim rather than another, take this “position” rather than that. Instead, it is a matter of precision. It is a matter of him being able to listen to how words sound. He philosophizes with his ears, one may perhaps say—this is the way these words sound at this particular mo- ment, and everything depends on that. It is a question of telling it like it is. Because of Carver’s ability to find the precise wordings in different situations, the text serves to shed light on the ways that meaning has its contexts (which is not necessarily the same thing as saying that the context is what breathes life into otherwise dead signs). My formulation “telling it like it is” is obviously not meant to be understood in terms of photographic copying. Carver’s short stories are not mimetic in that naive sense. But Carver, so it seems to me, has a sensitive ear. He knows how to discover and present his characters’ wordings. He tells it like it is, not because he writes realistic short stories and not, say, fantasy, but because his literary images leave us with characters’ wordings, and he does not explain them, does not claim that the wordings are to be traced back to something ulterior, to a literary content, a philosophical idea(l) that precedes the text and that the text is supposed to give voice to. We, his readers, are therefore assigned the task of trying to understand them.22 “To care about a specific character,” Cavell claims, “is to care about the utterly specific words he says when and as he says them.”23 As the story unfolds, Burt stays for a while with his (former) family— but not for long, he is not allowed to—and it is clear that he thinks, or wants to think, that this is his home. “Burt liked it where he was. He liked it in front of the fireplace, a glass in hand, his house, his home” (ST 106).24 On his way out, he puts too many logs of wax and sawdust on the fire, and steals the family’s pumpkin pies. As he fumbles with the door to his car one of them falls to the ground. Burt is back the next day to apologize, but Vera (who is the only one at home now) is not open to excuses. He has wrecked one holiday too many. While Burt is there, attempting to apologize, his mind wanders to his son’s bicycle that needs to be repaired and to the “weeds growing along the redwood fence” (ST 108). That is, he knows that he has done wrong, and all he sees are the responsibilities he (still thinks he) has new literary history12 to, but fails to, meet (his son’s bike and their garden). The distancing, or detachment, of the wandering mind that we (ordinarily) may feel inclined to think of in terms of not-being-present or not-paying-attention is here (in the clearing of the aspects of the ordinary that we may have a hard time discerning) rather a signal of a desire for intimacy. Burt’s mind wanders away from Vera, not because he does not want to be close to her and their children, but because he wants to. Nevertheless, desired intimacy is not intimacy: “I am sorry” is not good enough, yet there are no other words he can reach for. Put differently, he can say that he is sorry. He can mean it in as serious a manner as a man can mean it. But her mind is set. They are beyond apologies. One cannot read this story without knowing that Burt wants them to get back together, and it is equally obvious that Vera is done with him. Their life as a couple has come to an end. But of course, the words “I’m sorry” are still there, and Burt can and will reach for them. And it will always be up to Vera to respond to them. So this is the kind of tragedy that they will live with, at least until Burt realizes that the apol- ogy’s (logical) possibility is no longer relevant. The words “I’m sorry” can become idle too. What one must find interesting here is that if we, as readers of this short story, can see so clearly that this door is shut, then why cannot Burt see this too? The connotative logic of the story could hardly be any clearer. Burt is heartbreakingly off the mark when he thinks: “They had to have a serious talk soon. There were things that needed talking about, important things that had to be discussed. They’d talk again. Maybe after the holidays were over and things got back to normal” (ST 113). He is just as competent as we are when it comes to knowing the language. He knows Vera and their kids in a way that we cannot. One may perhaps say that he knows and understands the context much better than we ever can. They have had a life together; we have merely seen a snapshot of it. Why should we see this, but Burt not? Everything lies in plain view. It might be tempting—especially within a Cavellian idiom—to say that Burt’s problem here is not one of knowing but one of acknowledging, and it is true that something like that is going on here. It may be rather helpful to describe Burt’s tragedy in terms of a failure to acknowledge Vera’s words. But such a reading may also be too rushed. For one would misrepresent that matter if one thought that Burt would be happy, or could at least open up a path toward goodness and happiness, if he only could acknowledge what he knows (that is, take Vera at her word). That line of thinking may seem to suggest that acknowledgement is the route to truth. But shouldn’t we say that acknowledgements come in many forms too? It is likely that Burt’s problem is not that he lacks the 13carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary relevant kind of knowledge. But why should we not say that the kind of aversive maneuvers that Burt engages in are forms of acknowledgment too? If we say, for example, that Burt is in denial, then that denial is a form of acknowledgment too, right? “A ‘failure to know’ might just mean a piece of ignorance, an absence of something, a blank. A ‘failure to acknowledge’ is the presence of something, a confusion, an indifference, a callousness, an exhaustion, a coldness.”25 This means that it may be true to say that Burt’s problem is not a problem of knowing, but one of acknowledging. It does not mean, however, that he would surmount his difficulties if he only acknowledged (her, her words)—for “the concept of acknowledgment is evidenced equally by its failure as by its success.”26 Burt’s tragedy is not caused by him failing to acknowledge Vera (though one may perhaps say that Burt’s failure to acknowledge Vera is his trag- edy.) It is also quite possible that the best way to describe Burt’s situation is to say that he is in denial—that he is, as it were, completely unable to hear her out—and so there actually still is a question of knowledge in play. But, in such a case, it is still likely that the attainment of new knowledge would not solve things. The question of acknowledgment would still arise, or take on a new shape under the pressure of that knowledge. This is, I take it, one way of saying that acknowledgment “goes beyond knowledge,” and it does so not “in the order of knowledge, but in its requirement that I do something or reveal something on the basis of that knowledge.”27 Where’s Carver in all of this? Should we say that the merit of Carver’s short stories is that he portrays Cavell’s theory of acknowledgment? No. I think it would be better to say that Carver comes in here, not as an illustrator of Cavell’s thought (in fact, I have no reason at all to assume this), but as a sensitive ear. A different way to say this is to say that Carver’s writing clearly and skillfully “assume(s) responsibility for three of the features of the language it lives upon: (1) that every mark of a language means something in the language, one thing rather than another; that a language is totally, systematically meaningful; (2) that words and their orderings are meant by human beings, that they contain (or conceal) their beliefs, express (or deny) convictions; and (3) that the saying of something when and as it is said is as significant as the meaning and the ordering of the words said.”28 That is, Carver becomes relevant because he makes Burt’s case clear to us—shows us that our moral vulnerability is rooted in, or at least not disconnected from, questions of language. Carver teaches us that our word is our bond, not because Carver wanted to teach us that our word is our bond but because he is able to picture the ways that the choice of words, the tone of them, the fact and fate of them, their timing and timeliness, may reveal the world as it is—and we understand Burt because we understand that linguistic vulnerability. new literary history14 The image of Burt failing to embrace the words handed to him is an image of Burt at his weakest; and Burt at his weakest is also, one may say, an image of ordinary language philosophy at its weakest: “An urgent methodological issue of ordinary language philosophy—and the issue about which this cast of thought is philosophically at its weakest—is that of accounting for the fact that we are the victims of the very words of which we are at the same time the masters; victims and masters of the fact of words.”29 And we can now begin to more directly discuss Cavell’s thought about the uncanniness of the ordinary. The Uncanny The concept of the uncanny [Unheimlich] has a particular ring to it in German. The word Heimlich means “familiar” and “secret,” which suggests thick layers of connotations. Ordinarily, the word Unheimlich translates to “uncanny” or “awful” or perhaps even “dreadful”—but we should remain open to the connotative logic that links these thoughts to something that is “no-longer-secret,” to the disclosed; the uncanny links us to the nakedness and vulnerability we are exposed to when everything is open to view, in plain sight. That the uncanny includes this relation between the familiar and the strange, the hidden and the disclosed, is quite important. One may say that we may want to hide, or deny, only things that others can see. In short, the term Unheimlich suggests that there is something uncanny in that which is open to view. In Cavell’s thinking, “the uncanniness of the ordinary is epitomized by the possibility or threat of what philosophy has called skepticism, under- stood . . . as the capacity, even desire, of ordinary language to repudiate itself, specifically to repudiate its power to word the world, to apply to the things we have in common, or to pass them by.”30 Skepticism, as it enters here, should not be reduced to people and thinkers who claim to hold a skeptical position, and in one of the most well-known passages regarding Cavell’s understanding of skepticism, Cavell makes clear that he does not “confine the term [skepticism] to philosophers who wind up denying that we can ever know.” Rather, he applies it “to any view which takes the existence of the world to be a problem of knowledge” (CR 46). The idea here is that what the skeptic denies, and what the anti-skeptic wants to emphasize, are precisely the same thing—criteria. “What philosophically constitutes the everyday is ‘our criteria’ (and the possibility of repudiating them). . . . It is another way of saying that skepticism underlies and joins the concept of a criterion and that of the everyday, since skepticism exactly repudiates the ordinary as constituted 15carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary by (or by the repudiation of) our criteria. So the appeal to criteria against skepticism cannot overcome skepticism but merely beg its question.”31 The wrong way to understand this is to say that human beings first learn the criteria that tell us in which contexts or situations a word is used correctly and then go on to apply words accordingly. As we go through life, from the cradle to the grave, use and criteria come together. First of all, the idea that all possible employments of a word or a concept could be surveyable is, at best, empty. And as life changes, so do our concepts. This is true both on a large and on a small scale. A teenager and an adult have different concepts of love, and it makes perfect sense to say that one earns a new concept of love if one is blessed with a child. If a European experiences Halloween in the United States, her concept of “pumpkin” is widened.32 The concept of a good father is likely to be quite different in a more equal society in which both parents work, than in a society where the work done at home was done without pay and by women only. The concept of sin is different before and after secu- larization. In Cavell’s words: “In learning language, you do not merely learn the pronunciation of sounds, and their grammatical orders, but the ‘forms of life’ which make those sounds the words they are, do what they do” (CR 177–78). Criteria don’t exist outside the lives we lead and they are therefore under constant renegotiation; this is one reason why one may feel out of tune, not at home, in one’s own habitat. This also means that under- standing one’s fellow beings and the situation requires a form of trust in these criteria. That the criteria are there, in plain sight, expressed and acknowledged, does not mean that the persons involved will live by them, stay attuned to them, or think and act accordingly. And so, one may say that the particular form of uneasiness one may feel when reading one of Carver’s short stories, the tonality of the Carver mood, is precisely to be seen as a quiet recognition of the truth of this description of our world: this is what our lives together often look like. It is a momentary image of when the homely returns to us unfamiliar and frightening. It is by no means the only image of what life is and can be, and it is not the only image of how philosophical thought relates to the everyday and our ordinary language. But it is one image. An important one. A neglected one. Life can be like this, and an important part of philosophy is discovered here. Concluding Remarks I have tried to show that the senses of the everyday and of our ordinary language are far from clear and stable, and that many philosophical new literary history16 problems are formed precisely out of a false sense of having framed “the ordinary sense.” One of the main achievements of ordinary language philosophy, as I want to think of it, is its capacity to undo that false sense of certainty. Carver’s stories philosophize about these things. We may speak about Carver’s stories as investigations into what it means to share a language, but I don’t think Carver intentionally uses literature to make philosophi- cal points. One may perhaps think that this has to do with Carver being a realist writer, and that is surely part of it. But my view of why Carver’s short stories are so pertinent, expounding the Cavellian theme about the ordinary and the uncanniness of the ordinary, is something that goes beyond the fact that Carver is a skilled realist writer. In order to really learn why Carver is helpful here, we also need to make contact with, elucidate and reflect upon, formal features of Carver’s work. One thing about Carver’s form is what might be called his “realist spirit,” i.e., a desire to tell it like it is. One of the best formulations of the spirit in which he writes is his own: I have some three-by-five cards [taped to the wall beside my desk]. “Fundamen- tal accuracy of statement is the ONE sole morality of writing.” Ezra Pound. It is not everything by ANY means, but if a writer has “fundamental accuracy of statement” going for him, he’s at least on the right track. I have this three-by-five up there with this fragment of a sentence from Chekhov: “and suddenly everything became clear to him.” I find these words filled with wonder and possibility. I love their simple clarity, and the hint of revelation that’s implied. There’s mystery too. What has been unclear before? Why is it just now becoming clear? What’s happened? Most of all—what now? There are consequences as a result of such sudden awakenings. I feel a sharp sense of relief—and anticipation. I overheard the writer Geoffrey Wolff say “No cheap tricks” to a group of writing students. That should go on a three-by-five card. I’d amend it a little to “No tricks.” Period. I hate tricks. [---] Writers do not need tricks or gimmicks or even necessarily to be the smartest fellows on the block. At the risk of becom- ing foolish, a writer sometimes needs to be able to just stand and gape at this thing or that—a sunset or an old shoe—in absolute and simple amazement.33 It is important to take note of the fact that one may write in a realist spirit in any literary genre. “Fundamental accuracy of statement”—this character can only say this word, in this way, in this tone, in this light and so on—will make any writing (fictional or not, realistic or not) better. So precision is one thing. Another is precisely captured in the uncan- niness of the ordinary and in the philosophical aspiration to escape it. Carver’s writings elucidate the ways in which the world that we share 17carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary on a daily basis—that is, our language and its criteria, our communal- ity—is all we have to go on when we struggle to “word the world” and understand each other. If we happen to be caught by, or driven by, clas- sical metaphysical demands, this is bound to be unsatisfying. We make contact with words. We break bonds by repudiating them (unwittingly or not). What words mean is precisely the sort of thing that the philosophi- cally inclined mind is more than willing to disclaim.34 For example, the fact that we see Burt repudiate Vera’s words is what unveils the drama, makes the story move. (It is as if Burt wants the words “I’m sorry” to do the work of forgiving for them.) Carver can thus be said to surpass our desire to smoothen and order the everyday (by means of philosophical abstraction, generalization, and theorization), and to bring the uncan- niness into view in (and by means of) a distinct artistic form. This is one of the reasons why I want, in Cavell’s aftermath, to think of the work as intending, as thinking, as philosophizing, quite regardless of what its author intended.35 Carver’s stories work (hold together, tick) on the condition that his readers see (or at least experience) “the condition of words” as explicated in them (or as repudiated by some individuals in them).36 For example, when Vera tells Burt to go, he can hear a “go” that leaves the nature of their relationship in a not-too-distant tomorrow open; even though it is quite clear that we, the readers of the story, must hear a “go” that suggests that there is no tomorrow of that relationship in that sense. The short story as a whole, the form of it, feeds, one may perhaps say, on the tension created between Vera’s wordings and Burt’s repudiations—a tension rooted in the fact that language is not a system that can take over the responsibility to mean. Carver has created an ac- curate image of such a conversational scene. Cavell has crafted ways for us to discern the philosophical and moral relevance of such scenes. (And I also think it’s fair to say that such scenes, as well as the relevance of them, tend to be downplayed if seen at all in contemporary philosophy.) One may also say that Carver has crafted a story that enables us to keep Cavell’s wordings grounded—clearing a path for an understanding of them that does not render his view overly dramatic. There is also a formal kind of resemblance between “the impulse to philosophy” and the short story as form. For if it is true that “there is nothing beyond the succession of each and every day; and grasping a day, accepting the ordinary, is not a given but a task”37—as Cavell says after Emerson—and if the philosophical impulse is precisely the denial of the everyday spelled out in this way, then the short story, as a form, can be seen as an image of this situation. The formal features of the short story remind us of the fact that the weight of our words depend on what comes before and on what follows; it depends on the mood, new literary history18 or tonality, of the “now” (or the utterance) as it takes shape because of that “before” and that “after.” So one of the lessons that one may bring into view by means of reading Carver’s short stories is that reference, the ribbon tied between the word and the world, does not and cannot frame sense and meaning for us; and that, in a surprisingly large amount of cases, reference is nothing without tonality and mood, without atmo- sphere and human beings exposed to one another (which is not to say that reference is nothing). The short story is quite literally nothing beyond one of those days in that succession—beyond it, beyond that day, beyond that moment. And a good short story works because we see that there has been a “before” and there will be an “after.” The recognition that life just may be nothing more than the succession of days, and that human intimacy depends on shared concepts—the willingness to acknowledge each oth- ers’ projections of words—is likely to be a terrifying encapsulation of the human condition, and precisely the reason why somebody like Cavell finds it adequate to say that “nothing is more human than the wish to deny one’s humanity” (CR 109). But if that thought, that “human wish,” is a recognition of the impossibility of a life without vulnerable bonds between us on the one hand, and the acknowledgement of the philo- sophical impulse to solidify and secure knowledge and morality beyond this on the other hand, then perhaps such a wish is not as impenetrable or baffling as it may seem. After all, the recognition of a vulnerable bond is also the acknowledgement of a bond.38 Centre for Ethics as Study in Human Value, University of Pardubice Notes This publication was supported within the project of Operational Programme Research, Development and Education (OP VVV/OP RDE), “Centre for Ethics as Study in Human Value,” registration No. CZ.02.1.01/0.0/0.0/15_003/0000425, cofinanced by the European Regional Development Fund and the state budget of the Czech Republic. 1 In “Theaeteteus,” Socrates says: “It seems that Theodorus was not far from the truth when he guessed what kind of person you are. For this is an experience which is char- acteristic of a philosopher, this wondering: this is where philosophy begins and nowhere else.” See Plato, “Theaeteteus,” in Plato: Complete Works, ed. John M. Cooper (Indianapolis: Hacket, 1997), 173d. Aristotle claims that “human beings originally began philosophy, as they do now, because of wonder.” See Aristotle, “Metaphysics,” in Aristotle, Introductory Readings, trans. Terence Irwin and Gail Fine (Indianapolis: Hackett, 1996), 982b. 2 Stanley Cavell, The Claim of Reason: Wittgenstein, Skepticism, Morality, and Tragedy, new ed. (New York: Oxford Univ. Press 1979), 369 (hereafter cited as CR). 19carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary 3 J. L. Austin, “A Plea for Excuses,” in Philosophical Papers, 3rd ed., ed. J. O. Urmson and G. J. Warnock (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 1979), 185. 4 It may be helpful here to return to these oft-quoted words from Kant’s first critique: “We cannot learn philosophy; for where is it, who is in possession of it, and how shall we recognize it? We can only learn to philosophize.” Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, trans. Norman Kemp Smith, unabridged ed. (Boston: St. Martin’s, 1965), A838/B866. 5 There are, of course, other reasons for a philosopher to want to escape the ordinary. One of the most predominant is the idea that ordinary language is unclear and therefore needs to be surpassed. This may seem to go against the line of thought presented here, and in some respect that’s true. But there’s no need to think that philosophical problems have one root only. If, however, one attempts to evade the ordinary because our ordinary language is unclear, one is at least clear about what one wants to say, and one knows that the ordinary ways of turning our concepts do not enable one to express a particular mean- ing with precision—which is to say that one is again driven by a sense of disappointment with the ordinary, and that disappointment cannot be disconnected from an idea of what ordinary language means, even if one thinks that ordinary language means too much, or is lacking the required form of precision. 6 Austin, Sense and Sensibilia, reconstructed from the manuscript notes by G. J. Warnock (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962), 3. 7 Austin, Sense and Sensibilia, 3. 8 I allude here to some of Iris Murdoch’s formulations that, I think, well capture both the difficulty of assessing the everyday philosophically, and the philosophical urge to evade the responsibility to do so. Murdoch says, for example: “The details of our world deserve our respectful and loving attention, as artists have always known. There is an attentive patient delay of judgment, a kind of humble agnosticism, which lets the object be.” Murdoch, Metaphysics as a Guide to Morals (1992; London: Vintage, 2003), 377. 9 Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, 2nd ed., trans. G. E. M. Anscombe (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 1997), §129. 10 Cavell, “The Uncanniness of the Ordinary,” in In Quest for the Ordinary: Lines of Skepti- cism and Romanticism (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1988), 171. It should also be noted that I think that Austin is closer to Cavell on this point than Cavell recognizes, in e.g., “An Emerson Mood,” in Cavell, Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes, ed. David Justin Hodge (Stanford, CA: Stanford Univ. Press, 2003), 21–22. 11 See Robert Nozick, Anarchy, State, and Utopia (New York: Basic Books, 1974), 42–45; and Hilary Putnam, “Brains in a vat,” in Reason, Truth and History (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1982). 12 Literature, Murdoch argued, “shows us the world, and much pleasure in art is a pleasure of recognition of what we vaguely knew was there but never saw before. Art is mimesis and good art is, to use another Platonic term, anamnesis, ‘memory’ of what we did not know we knew. Art ‘holds up a mirror to nature.’” Murdoch, “Literature and Philosophy: A Conversation with Bryan Magee,” in Existentialists and Mystics: Writings on Philosophy and Literature, ed. Peter Conradi, foreword by George Steiner (New York: Penguin, 1999), 12 (emphasis mine). I have explored these themes in more detail in my Language Lost and Found: On Iris Murdoch and the Limits of Philosophical Discourse (New York: Bloomsbury, 2013). 13 Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, §129. 14 Raymond Carver, “On Writing,” in Call if You Need Me: The Uncollected Fiction and Prose (London: The Harvill Press, 2000), 91. 15 Carver, “On Writing,” 91 (emphasis added). 16 Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Experience,” in The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, introduction by Mary Oliver (New York: The Modern Library, 2000), 309. new literary history20 17 Emerson, “The American Scholar,” in The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, 57. See also Cavell “An Emerson Mood,” 20. 18 Carver, “Drinking While Driving,” in All of Us: The Collected Poems (New York: Vintage Contemporaries, 1996), 3. 19 Carver, “Tell the Women We’re Going,” in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories (New York: Vintage, 1989), 66. This collection has been published in another version, in the form they had before the texts were edited, and rather drastically altered, by Carver and his editor. I hesitate to call either of these versions of the collection “original.” It is better to think of them as the nonedited and the edited versions. The nonedited collec- tion is called Beginners (thus suggesting that on the topic of love we are always beginners, never experts, always students). If there is one major difference between the nonedited and the edited version that strikes me as the most relevant, it is that the nonedited contains more details, including descriptions of minute details, and that Carver quite often gives us brief descriptions of how some of his main characters’ thoughts wander in the midst of discussions and rather striking events. This, I take it, underlines the haphazardness of some of the more decisive actions they do, and it might also be said to be written in a somewhat warmer tone. In the particular case of the short story, “Tell the Women We Are Going,” the tales are so different that it makes sense to talk about two different stories. I don’t know which is better—that is, worse—but I am not sure how that matters if I were to find a way to decide. See Carver, “Pie,” Beginners: The Original Version of What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, text established by William L. Stull and Maureen P. Carroll (London: Jonathan Cape, 2009), 151–58. 20 Carver, “A Serious Talk,” in What We Talk About When We Talk About Love: Stories, 105 (hereafter cited as ST). 21 The same passage in the nonedited version runs: They had sat in the living room and solemnly opened the presents he had brought. The lights on the Christmas tree blinked. Packages wrapped in shiny paper and secured with ribbons and bows lay stuffed under the tree waiting for six o’clock. He watched the children, Terri and Jack, open their gifts. He waited while Vera’s fingers carefully undid the ribbon and tape on her present. She unwrapped the paper. She opened the box and took out a beige cashmere sweater. “It’s nice,” she said. “Thank you, Burt.” “Try it on,” Terri said to her mother. “Put it on,” Jack said, “All right, Dad.” Burt looked at his son, grateful for his show of support. He could ask Jack to ride his bicycle over some morning during these holidays and they’d go out for breakfast. She did try it on. She went into the bedroom and came out running her hands up and down the front of the sweater. “It’s nice,” she said. “It looks great on you,” Burt said, and felt a welling in his chest. He opened his gifts: from Vera a certificate for twenty dollars at Sondheim’s men’s store; a matching comb and brush set from Terri; handkerchiefs, three pair of socks, and a ballpoint pen from Jack. (Carver, “Pie,” 151.) There are several quite striking differences here between the nonedited and the edited versions. For starters, here, the kids have names, and that already brings us so much closer to them, and, I would argue, closer to Burt. It is also more detailed, and perhaps one may call it more attentive, or nuanced. Furthermore, in the edited version, his son’s (Jack’s) show of support is more or less cut out. “Put it on” may perhaps be said to express some kind of support, but it is quite different from the exclamation “All right Dad!” in which Burt’s choice of gift was right (in italics), and in which his son underlines the intimacy of the bond between them by calling him “Dad.” In the nonedited version, Burt’s mind 21carver, cavell, and the uncanniness of the ordinary wanders to dream about his son riding a bicycle and them having breakfast together. That this longing for connection and intimacy is removed in the edited version also has the effect of presenting Burt as colder. 22 This theme is well explored in Sarah Beckwith’s “Are There Any Women in Shake- speare’s Plays?: Fiction, Representation, and Reality in Feminist Criticism,” New Literary History 46, no. 2 (2015): 241–60. 23 Cavell, “The Avoidance of Love: A Reading of King Lear,” in Must We Mean What We Say? A Book of Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1976), 269. 24 In this particular respect, I think that some of Cavell’s remarks about the movies as being particularly “apt to capture” our ordinary lives, can help us see what “telling it like it is” may mean. See Cavell, Cities of Words: Pedagogical Letters on a Register of the Moral Life (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ. Press, 2004), 5–6. One thing that Cavell wants to em- phasize by means of linking film and philosophy together is that films are “preoccupied with ways in which we miss our lives, miss the density of significance passing by in a film, in our speech, in our lives. And we are allowed to, we survive because we can, remain oblivious to it, sometimes feign oblivion.” Cavell, “‘What Becomes of Thinking on Film?’ (Stanley Cavell in conversation with Andrew Klevan),” in Film as Philosophy: Essay on Cin- ema after Wittgenstein and Cavell, ed. Rupert Read and Jerry Goodenough (Basingstoke: Palgrave McMillan, 2005), 206. And it is in relation to this that I think of Carver’s short stories as being attempts to tell it like it is: in Carver’s short stories, just like in films, “Choice—thought, reflection—is on the surface.” Carver thus assigns us, his readers, the task of measuring the weight and significance of words, that is, to “care about the utterly specific words he says when and as he says them.” Cavell, “The Avoidance of Love,” 269. 25 Cavell, “Knowing and Acknowledging,” in Must We Mean What We Say? A Book of Essays (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1976), 264. 26 Cavell, “Knowing and Acknowledging,” 263. 27 Cavell, “Knowing and Acknowledging,” 257. 28 Cavell, Senses of Walden, expanded ed. (Chicago: Univ. of Chicago Press, 1992), 33–34. 29 Cavell, “The Uncanniness of the Ordinary,” 169. 30 Cavell, “The Uncanniness of the Ordinary,” 154. 31 Cavell, This New Yet Unapproachable America: Lectures after Emerson after Wittgenstein (Albuquerque, NM: Living Batch Press, 1989), 51. 32 “To ‘know what a pumpkin is’ is to know, e.g., that it is a kind of fruit; that it is used to make pies; that it has many forms and sizes and colors; that this one is misshapen and old; that inside every tame pumpkin there is a wild man named Jack, screaming to get out” (CR 171). 33 Carver, “On Writing,” 88. 34 Thus, this is no side issue in philosophy. The theme of the uncanniness of the or- dinary illustrates nothing less than the urge to find some sort of extrahuman form of solidity beyond our lives together in the words we share and repudiate. “It turns out to be something that the very impulse to philosophy, the impulse to take thought about our lives, inherently seeks to deny, as if what philosophy is dissatisfied by is inherently the everyday.” Cavell, “The Uncanniness of the Ordinary,” 170–71. 35 Compare this with Cavell’s remark about film: “My formulation employing the work’s thinking or intending or wanting something, is meant to emphasize the sense that the work wants something of us who behold or hear or read it. This is a function of our de- termining what we want of it, why or how we are present at it—what our relation to it is. It and I (each I present at it) are responsible to each other.” Cavell, “‘What Becomes of Thinking on Film?’” 186. 36 See Cavell, The Senses of Walden, 33–34. 37 Cavell, “The Uncanniness of the Ordinary,” 171. new literary history22 38 This paper was first delivered at the 2016 PAL Younger Scholars Workshop at Duke University. My thanks to Toril Moi and all the participants at the workshop for fruitful and rewarding discussions. Special thanks to Lucy Alford, Nora Hämäläinen, Ingeborg Löfgren, and Pär Segerdahl, and an anonymous reviewer for thoughtful comments to an earlier version of this text. 
work_p23svhxvbvegpjcv3w25dsj7re	----	dspace cover page Appletopia: Media Technology and the Religious Imagination of Steve Jobs by Brett T. Robinson The MIT Faculty has made this article openly available. Please share how this access benefits you. Your story matters. Citation Fischer, Michael M. J. “Appletopia: Media Technology and the Religious Imagination of Steve Jobs by Brett T. Robinson.” Technology and Culture 56, 1 (2015): 291–293 © 2015 Society for the History of Technology As Published http://dx.doi.org/10.1353/TECH.2015.0000 Publisher Johns Hopkins University Press Version Final published version Citable link http://hdl.handle.net/1721.1/116110 Terms of Use Article is made available in accordance with the publisher's policy and may be subject to US copyright law. Please refer to the publisher's site for terms of use. https://libraries.mit.edu/forms/dspace-oa-articles.html http://hdl.handle.net/1721.1/116110 Appletopia: Media Technology and the Religious Imagination of Steve Jobs by Brett T. Robinson (review) Michael M. J. Fischer Technology and Culture, Volume 56, Number 1, January 2015, pp. 291-293 (Review) Published by Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: For additional information about this article Access provided by MIT Libraries (4 Jun 2018 13:28 GMT) https://doi.org/10.1353/tech.2015.0000 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/572139 https://doi.org/10.1353/tech.2015.0000 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/572139 B O O K R E V I E W S 291 period visioneering’s brand of futurism also reached broad, new audiences through Omni magazine. While visioneers often felt the credibility of their enterprises was threatened by association with such disreputable supporters as LSD guru Timothy Leary and, later, the cryonics movement, the case of nanotech- nology offers an interesting twist. McCray argues that Drexler and the Foresight Institute (which Drexler co-founded) successfully leveraged the credibility of then-recent advances in the understanding of biomolecular processes to help generate not only enthusiasm but generous funding for nano-scale research. When this research began to focus on instruments such as the scanning tunneling microscope and materials such as carbon nanotubes, Drexler’s computer simulations of molecule-sized machines, and his speculation about the danger of them turning their environment into a “gray goo,” came to be regarded as endangering immediately pro- ductive research. The Visioneers does not purport to be a comprehensive history. Notably, the wonderful “leaping robot” on the book’s cover belies a dearth of content on robotics, cybernetics, and artificial intelligence. Nevertheless, the book is a worthy contribution to a growing historiography of the sprawling intellectual and cultural spaces that have existed around the edges of mainstream science and technology. It may be profitably read alongside Fred Turner’s From Counterculture to Cyberculture (2006), David Kaiser’s How the Hippies Saved Physics (2011), Michael Gordin’s The Pseudoscience Wars (2012), Andrew Pickering’s The Cybernetic Brain (2010), and Helge Kragh’s Higher Speculations (2011). WILLIAM THOMAS William Thomas is a senior historian at History Associates, Inc., in Rockville, Maryland. His book, Rational Action: The Sciences of Policy in Britain and America, 1940–1960, is available this spring from the MIT Press. Appletopia: Media Technology and the Religious Imagination of Steve Jobs. By Brett T. Robinson. Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2013. Pp. xii+147. $24.95. This reading of Apple ads—for the Macintosh (iMac), iPod, iPhone, and iPad—by a marketing professor suggests “Jobs and Apple provide an alle- gory for reading religion in the information age” (p. 105). With white dust jacket, black lettering, and silhouette with dark red highlighting of “topia” and “Steve Jobs,” the slim book mimics an Apple product. Brett Robinson traces his method to the Birmingham School of Cultural Studies (p. 108) but it seems more akin to the University of Chicago’s symbolic interac- tionist marketing studies in the 1950s and to the symbolic anthropology of 16_bkrevs 261–306.qxp_13_49.3bkrevs 779– 1/27/15 11:00 AM Page 291 T E C H N O L O G Y A N D C U L T U R E JANUARY 2015 VOL. 56 292 the 1960s and 1970s (see Melissa Cefkin, ed., Ethnography and the Cor- porate Encounter, 2009). Robinson argues that Apple, with its forbidden fruit icon, like other culturally key technologies (cathedral, arcade, railroad-telegraph, Golden Gate Bridge, automobile, translucent Le Grande Arche, Fifth Avenue Ap- ple Store) is a vehicle of transcendence. Like his hero Edwin Land, Jobs wants to stand in the intersection of engineering and the humanities, dis- solving the antagonisms between machines and human beings. For this, advertising is not just a tool of persuasion, but a highly emotive “aesthetic encounter” (p. 16). “The representations and practices of technology are composed of a diffuse set of rituals and rhetoric”; “images and slogans of technological advertising provide a computer catechism” (p. 5). Citing Umberto Eco’s satire of the Protestant PC (free interpretation, but difficult choices, not all can achieve salvation) versus the Catholic Macintosh (cheerful, friendly, conciliatory, catechistic in telling the faithful how to proceed step-by-step, and promising salvation to all), Robinson sees Apple ads operating like medieval morality plays. The PC is the fall into tedious work and depersonalization; the Mac is liberation and creativity, facilitat- ing “self-divinization by procuring the powers of omniscience and omni- presence granted by a global communication network” (p. 17). Robinson cites Ralph Waldo Emerson as seeing new technologies “reducing the earth to a brain . . . by telegraph and steam the Earth is anthropologized” (p. 7), Pierre Teilhard de Chardin updating this as a noosphere or supercon- sciousness through electronic communication, and Timothy Leary calling the personal computer the LSD of the 1990s (“It makes perfect sense to me that if you activate your brain with psychedelic drugs, the only way you can describe it is electronically”) (p. 55). The delicious review of iMac ads includes: “Narcissus” (the impish iMac monitor following a man walking past; man stops to look; as if in a mirror he sees in the screen extensions of his own creativity, productivity, sociability, and memory) (p. 33); and the sixty-six 30-second ad series “Get a Mac” (Mac dressed casually, PC in business suit, vignettes of “conflict between the human spirit of creativity and the dreary environment of labor and soulless efficiency”) (p. 40). The iPod ads shift from sharp product photos to silhouette dancers on neon backgrounds, white wires hanging from their heads, giving new meaning to the term “wirehead” (1960s hip- pies who liked electronics). In “Cubicle,” single albums and the materiality of analog media are sucked into the iPod nano as universal container; in “Wild Postings” it is the twenty-six iPod poster ads that are in color as a plugged-in man blocks out street sounds and encounters a man with child on his shoulders, the child’s legs in affectionate embrace around the man’s ears, “a visual metaphor for the companionship of the iPod” (p. 52). The iPhone ads, “Touching Is Believing,” evoke Michelangelo, doubting Thom- as, the idiom “seeing is believing,” and Buddhism-Gnosticism (suffering body, digital liberation). 16_bkrevs 261–306.qxp_13_49.3bkrevs 779– 1/27/15 11:00 AM Page 292 B O O K R E V I E W S 293 Robinson’s rare criticism is formulaic: “what Apple offers us in the iPhone ads is a false freedom, one that offers amusement and efficiency as counterfeit forms of human leisure” (p. 73). More trenchant: the Waldorf School, where many of the children of Apple, Google, Yahoo, and H-P exec- utives go, eschews computers, in favor of “chalkboards, wood desks, encyclo- pedias and No. 2 pencils,” “learning math by knitting and baking” (p. 199). In the ad “Listen to the Music,” dancers paint the air with neon light from the iPod, like glow sticks at a rave, or seeing trails when on acid; Cut Chemist plays trance-inducing acid house. Robinson delights in identify- ing the music in the ads (naming is owning, also access to purchasing)— hip-hop, reggae, and tribal percussion (The Black Eyed Peas) and rock and symphony (Chris Martin); and 1960s legacies in Jobs’s belief in enlight- ened individuals—therapist and LSD researcher Richard Alpert (turned Ram Das), yogi Paramahansa Yogananda, Bill Gates’s psychedelic history, Tim Berners-Lee’s Unitarian Universalism, and Roberto Parada’s illustra- tion “The Night Steve Jobs Met Andy Warhol.” MICHAEL M. J. FISCHER Michael M. J. Fischer is professor of anthropology and science and technology studies at the Massachussetts Institute of Technology. Arming Mother Nature: The Birth of Catastrophic Environmentalism. By Joseph Darwin Hamblin. New York: Oxford University Press, 2013. Pp. 298. $29.95. This fascinating book explores the ingenious, cruel, ludicrous, and heinous ways that American scientists, military planners, and medical profession- als attempted to recruit nature into their plans for waging total war against the Soviet Union and other ideological enemies. Joseph Hamblin traces this broad-based effort: among other things, he argues that military inves- tigations into environmental interdependencies and weaponry were part of the emerging ecological and environmental consciousness of the post– World War II era. Narratives about total war typically focus on nuclear weapons and doc- trines of mutual assured destruction, in which the targeting of entire cities decisively obliterates any remaining division between civilian and combat- ant. But once the United States lost the monopoly on nuclear weapons in 1949, and as the increasing destructive power of those weapons made nuclear war unthinkable, planners shifted their focus to other ways of wag- ing total war by turning the environment into a weapon of mass destruc- tion. The Pentagon was thus cooking up various dastardly plans to harness nature: triggering massive earthquakes and tsunamis with strategically placed nuclear explosions, unleashing diseases, defoliating forests, changing weather patterns. Even if these transformations affected both the United States and the Soviet Union, catastrophe planners assumed that the United 16_bkrevs 261–306.qxp_13_49.3bkrevs 779– 1/27/15 11:00 AM Page 293 
work_p5qkxsr2zvawrn4vj6pp7uca3u	----	American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine 421 Lifestyle Medicine and Health Care Reform James M. Rippe, MD, Theodore J. Angelopoulos, PhD, MPH, and William F. Rippe, MD DOI: 10.1177/1559827609352287. From the Rippe Lifestyle Institute, Shrewsbury, Massachusetts (JMR); Tufts University School of Medicine, Boston, Massachusetts (JMR); University of Central Florida, Orlando (JMR); Center for Lifestyle Medicine, University of Central Florida, Orlando (TJA); the Department of Internal Medicine, Heartland Health, St Joseph, Missouri (WFR); and Rippe Health Evaluation, Orlando, Florida (WFR). JMR is the Editor-in-Chief and TJA is the associate editor of the American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine. Address correspondence to James M. Rippe, Rippe Lifestyle Institute, 21 North Quinsigamond Avenue, Shrewsbury, MA 01545; e-mail: bgrady@ rippelifestyle.com. For reprints and permission queries visit SAGE’s Web site, http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav. Copyright © The Author(s) vol. 3 • no. 6 A s we write this editorial, an increasingly acrimonious debate is raging in our country con- cerning health care reform. Many ideas are being advanced, and competing plans seem to emerge on a daily basis. Unfortunately, whatever plan ultimately emerges appears likely to be more influ- enced by politics than sound public policy. Whatever plan (or combination of plans) survives the maelstrom, all would agree that the desired goal in the reform process must be a combination of improved health outcomes and control of costs. This is the holy grail of health care reform. While at this juncture it is impossible to predict which plan will prevail or which compromises will be required, we would argue that, in the United States, it is our daily lifestyle habits and practices that are harming our health and literally kill- ing us. Until we as physicians and health care providers do a better job of encour- aging our patients to become true part- ners in improving their health, through such proven lifestyle-related modali- ties as increased physical activity, proper nutrition, weight management, and ciga- rette smoking cessation, the goal of true health care reform will remain impossi- ble to achieve no matter what framework is erected. Consider the Facts There is no longer any serious doubt that what individuals do on a daily basis exerts a profound impact on both their short- and long-term health and qual- ity of life. This is the cornerstone of what we at the American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine have defined as our central mis- sion: the mission of “lifestyle medicine.”1 • Less than 25% of the adult popula- tion gets adequate servings of fruits and vegetables and follows other simple, evidence-based nutri- tional principles related to good health.3 • More than 70% of the adult popula- tion in the United States does not get enough physical activity to result in health benefits.4 Until prescription of positive lifestyle practices becomes a central component of modern American medicine, we are unlikely to improve outcomes or control costs of health care in the United States. Increasingly, the medical community and the public at large have come to under- stand that lifestyle habits, whether they be positive or negative, are profoundly impor- tant to health and quality of life. Consider the following facts: • More than two-thirds of the adult pop- ulation in the United States is either overweight or obese.2 • Twenty-five percent of the adult popu- lation in the United States still smokes cigarettes.5 • The incidence of childhood obesity has tripled in the past 20 years.6 • The metabolic syndrome is now thought to be present in between 23% and 40% of the adult population in the United States.7 F R O M T H E 422 American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine Nov • Dec 2009 • The incidence of diabetes has skyrock- eted in the past 20 years. Eight percent of the adult population in the United States currently has diabetes, which represents a 61% increase between 1991 and 2001.8 • Thirty-eight percent of the adult pop- ulation in the United States has high blood pressure.9 • More than 40% of the adult population has glucose intolerance (a precursor to diabetes).10 • Coronary artery disease, which remains the leading killer of men and women in the United States, resulting in 37% of all mortality each year, has multiple life- style factors as underlying risk factors.11 • Obesity, cigarette smoking, and unpro- tected sun exposure contribute to more than half of all cancers.12 • Obesity is the leading cause of osteoar- thritis in women and the second lead- ing cause of osteoarthritis in men.13 The reason that we list all of these conditions as a rationale for the critical importance of lifestyle medicine in health care reform is that all of these diseases, conditions, or practices have significant lifestyle components. Until prescription of positive lifestyle practices becomes a central component of modern American medicine, we are unlikely to improve outcomes or control costs of health care in the United States. We Have Met the Enemy . . . In addition to the poor health outcomes that are related to negative lifestyle mea- sures, there is a very significant economic burden of poor lifestyle choices, which further underscores the need for a firmer grasp of lifestyle medicine by the med- ical community. Each year, the United States spends more than $6700 for every man, woman, and child on what is essen- tially “sickness” care. In contrast, virtually every other industrial economy spends considerably less. For example, Greece, which ranks as the 16th largest economy in the world, spends less than $600 for every man, woman, and child on health care. Yet Greece achieves superior out- comes in virtually every recognized inter- national standard of health outcome than does the United States. Every other industrialized economy that expends less money than the United States also achieves better health outcomes. Clearly, until we embrace positive lifestyle mea- sures and practices in modern health care, we are not going to solve this enor- mous financial drain on the American economy and toll on human lives. As various culprits have emerged and been blamed for rising costs and poor outcome in American health care, the primacy of lifestyle medicine has failed to garner its proper place as a key con- sideration for why our health care is so expensive while our outcomes remain relatively poor. In this whole debate, per- haps the cartoon character Pogo said it best when he lamented, “We have met the enemy and he are us!” Consider the Opportunity There is ample reason to believe that positive lifestyle measures can have an impact on reducing the health care bur- den of poor habits and practices in our country. For example, from the Nurses Health Study, we know that more than 80% of all heart disease in women and more than 91% of all diabetes could be elimi- nated if all women would adopt a clus- ter of positive lifestyle practices including regular physical activity (30 minutes or more on most days), maintenance of a healthy body weight (body mass index of 19-25 kg/m2), not smoking cigarettes, and following a few simple nutritional practices.14 Moreover, evidence from the Diabetes Prevention Project shows that individu- als with baseline glucose intolerance can reduce their risk of developing diabe- tes by 58% just by increasing their phys- ical activity and losing 5% to 7% of their body weight.15 Smoking cessation has clearly been associated with decreased risk of can- cer and chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.16 Increased physical activity has been repeatedly shown to lower the risk of heart disease and many cancers.17 Proper nutrition has also been demon- strated in numerous studies to decrease the likelihood of developing many diseases.18 Consider the Evidence There are literally hundreds, if not thou- sands, of studies that support the concept that lifestyle habits and practices pro- foundly affect the likelihood of developing various metabolic diseases. In recogni- tion of this robust body of medical litera- ture, lifestyle practices form a cornerstone for many of the evidence-based guide- lines used to treat common illnesses in the United States. For example, all of the fol- lowing guidelines contain significant por- tions of lifestyle medicine practices: • Joint National Commission Guidelines for Hypertension Prevention and Treatment19 • National Cholesterol Education Program Guidelines for Cholesterol Management20 • Institute of Medicine Guidelines for Obesity Management21 • American Academy of Pediatric Guidelines for Cholesterol Management in Children22 • American Heart Association and American Cancer Society Joint Statement on the Prevention of Heart Disease and Cancer16 • American Diabetes Association Guidelines for the Management of Diabetes23 • American Academy of Pediatrics Guidelines for the Treatment of Metabolic Syndrome24 Those who might suggest that life- style practices such as increased physi- cal activity, proper nutrition, and weight management should not be part of main- stream medicine are simply ignoring the evidence-based guidelines that inform and guide our approach to the treatment of most of the chronic diseases seen in medical practice today. Squandering the Opportunity Despite the fact that most metabolic dis- eases could be either ameliorated or elim- inated by positive lifestyle practices, a distressingly low percentage of people in the United States follow the cluster of lifestyle practices known to decrease these risks. For example, in the Nurses American Journal of Lifestyle Medicinevol. 3 • no. 6 423 Health Study, only 4% of this popula- tion of health care workers followed all of the practices known to lower the risk of heart disease and diabetes.25 The Behavioral Risk Surveillance Study showed virtually the same appallingly low percentage of people following all of the practices known to lower the risk of chronic disease.26 Clearly, there is an enormous gap between what the evi- dence shows people should be doing and what they actually are doing. Physician Responsibility Numerous studies have shown that physician recommendation is a power- ful tool in changing patient behavior.27 Advice from physicians has been consis- tently shown to lead to patient attempts to improve overall lifestyle, increase physi- cal activity,28 and make a serious attempt to lose weight.29 Despite the potential for physician counseling to change behaviors, physicians often do not take advantage of this opportunity. It has been estimated that less than 1 of every 3 patients receive any form of lifestyle counseling during routine office visits. One aspect of physician involvement in lifestyle medicine that has not been prop- erly emphasized in the health care debate involves the values that we should fos- ter in our medical care system. This con- cept was eloquently discussed in a recent article authored by Michael Porter in the New England Journal of Medicine, in which he stated, The central focus must be on increasing value for patients—the health outcomes achieved per dol- lar spent. Good outcomes that are achieved efficiently are the goal. Not false “savings” from cost shift- ing and restricting services. Indeed, the only way to truly contain costs in healthcare is to improve out- comes: in a value based system, achieving and maintaining good health is inherently less costly than dealing with poor health.30(p109) Physicians are the key gatekeepers and should be the leaders in emphasizing this fundamental value in our health care system. Why Isn’t the Health Care Community More Involved? Numerous reasons have been given for why physicians do not place more emphasis on positive lifestyle counsel- ing and recommendations in their prac- tices. Some physicians blame lack of time in the typical office visit. Other stud- ies have suggested that physicians who are not personally committed to posi- tive lifestyle behaviors in their own lives are much less likely to provide counsel- ing and recommendations in this area for their patients.31-34 Lack of knowledge about how to prescribe physical activ- ity, proper nutrition, and weight manage- ment may also contribute to the paucity of activity in this area. A particularly disturbing excuse often given by physicians for not incorporat- ing lifestyle recommendations relates to a common viewpoint that patient behav- ior will not change no matter what the physician says. Perhaps equally perva- sive is the argument that physicians are not reimbursed for making these recom- mendations and therefore are unwilling to spend the time to make them. These insurance disincentives must be corrected to further stimulate and reward altered physician behavior. Whatever the excuse, it is clearly time that we in the medical community rec- ognize both our power and our respon- sibility to help our patients improve their health and start taking steps to incorporate this message in our daily practices. A Multifaceted Problem Lest it appear that we are laying this entire problem at the feet of the health care community, it is important to acknowledge the vital role of other stake- holders. Increased public education in these areas is mandatory. Public policy in health care must shift toward preven- tion. Insurance incentives must be shifted toward health preservation and enhance- ment rather than the current emphasis on expensive sickness treatments and sub- specialty treatments and procedures. Yet none of these are likely to happen with- out leadership from an active, engaged, and motivated health care community. True Reform Historically in the United States, there have been numerous reform movements. One of the periods of great foment in the area of reform occurred in the mid- 19th century around the time of the Transcendentalists, who were writing and discussing their views on human nature. A persuasive essay written during this period by the eminent American philos- opher Ralph Waldo Emerson argued that true reform could occur only when indi- viduals were first reformed. Only with individual reform could society then be reformed. As Emerson so eloquently stated more than 100 years ago, “The crit- icism and attack on institutions which we have witnessed, has made the thing plain, that society gains nothing whilst a man, not himself renovated, attempts to renovate things around him.”35 We contend that one of the key consid- erations that has been largely absent from the debate concerning various health care models is the key role that physicians can play by personally reconsidering and reforming issues of partnership with their patients and incorporating lifestyle med- icine recommendations into their daily practices. If this type of reform can occur, then the whole system can be reformed. Lifestyle Medicine Is Health Care Reform Let us restate and underscore our cen- tral premise of this editorial: no viable health care reform will occur in our coun- try to achieve better health care outcomes and control costs until we get control of the lifestyle issues that are driving both poor health outcomes and enormous expense. We in the health care community have both an enormous responsibility and opportunity in this area. The evidence is no longer debatable that positive lifestyle decisions profoundly affect both short- and long-term health and quality of life. In the name of health care reform, old and worn out excuses about lack of time, knowledge, and/or lack of reimbursement for failing to guide our patients toward 424 American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine Nov • Dec 2009 healthier lifestyles must come to an end. It is time for us in the medical community to embrace the abundant evidence that already exists that regular physical activ- ity, proper nutrition, weight management, smoking cessation, and other lifestyle- related habits and practices profoundly affect not only the health of our patients and their economic well being but also the very financial stability of our country. With true physician leadership, we can win the battle to educate our patients, reform insurance practices to incentivize health preservation and disease preven- tion, and turn health care in the positive direction it needs to go. It is time for us to remember why we entered health care in the first place: to make a difference in people’s lives. Forming true partnerships with our patients and offering evidence-based advice on how daily habits and actions profoundly affect long-term health is overdue. In this regard, there is no time to waste. Lifestyle medicine really is true health care reform and must be put into practice immediately, beginning within the medical community itself. AJLM References 1. Rippe JM, Angelopoulos TJ. The American Journal of Lifestyle Medicine: a forum, a vision, and a mandate. Am J Lifestyle Med. 2007;1:7-9. 2. Ogden CL, Carroll MD, Curtin LR, McDowell MA, Tabak CJ, Flegal KM. Prevalence of overweight and obesity in the United States, 1999-2004. JAMA. 2006;295:1549-1555. 3. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Fruit and vegetables consump- tion among adults—United States, 2005. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2007;56: 313-317. 4. Barnes PM. Physical activity among adults: United States, 2000 and 2005. http://www .cdc.gov/nchs/products/pubs/pubd/hestats/ physicalactivity/physicalactivity.htm. 5. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Tobacco use among adults— Unites States, 2005. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2006;55:1145-1148. 6. Troiano RP, Flegal KM, Kuczmarksi RJ, Campbell SM, Johnson CL. Overweight prevalence and trends for children and adolescents: the National Health and Nutrition Surveys, 1963-1991. Arch Pediatr Adolesc Med. 1995;140:1085-1091. 7. Janiszewski PM, Saunders TJ, Ross R. Lifestyle treatment of the metabolic syn- drome. Am J Lifestyle Med. 2008;2:99-108. 8. Mokdad AH, Ford ES, Bowman BA, et al. Prevalence of obesity, diabetes, and obe- sity-related health risk factors, 2001. JAMA. 2003;289:76-79. 9. National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey. US Department of Health and Human Services. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. National Center for Health Statistics. 1990-2101 Survey Content. 10. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Prevalence of diabetes and impaired fasting glucose in adults—United States, 1999-2000. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep. 2003;52:833-837. 11. Rosamond W, Flegal K, Friday G, et al. Heart disease and stroke statistics—2007 update: a report from the American Heart Association Statistics Committee and Stroke Statistics Subcommittee. Circulation. 2007;115:e69-e171. 12. Brown CH, Baidas SM, Hajdenberg JJ, et al. Lifestyle interventions in the preven- tion and treatment of cancer. Am J Lifestyle Med. 2009;3:337-348. 13. The Arthritis Foundation. www.arthritis.com 14. Bassuk SS, Manson JE. Lifestyle and risk of cardiovascular disease and type 2 diabetes in women: a review of the epidemiologic evidence. Am J Lifestyle Med. 2008;2:191- 213. 15. Knowler WC, Barrett-Conner E, Fowler SE, et al. Reduction in the incidence of type 2 diabetes with lifestyle intervention or met- formin. N Engl J Med. 2002;346:393-403. 16. Eyre H, Kahn R, Robertson R. ACS/ADA/ AHA scientific statement: preventing can- cer, cardiovascular disease and diabetes. Circulation. 2004;109:3244-3255. 17. US Department of Health and Human Services. A Report of the Surgeon General on Physical Activity and Health. Atlanta, GA: US Department of Health and Human Services, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center for Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion; 1999. 18. US Department of Health and Human Services, US Department of Agriculture. Report of the Dietary Guidelines Advisory Committee on the Dietary Guidelines for Americans. Washington, DC: US Department of Health and Human Services, US Department of Agriculture; 2005. 19. Chobanian AV, Bakris GL, Black HR, et al. The Seventh report of the Joint National Committee on Prevention, Detection, Evaluation, and Treatment of High Blood Pressure: the JNC 7 report. JAMA. 2003;289:2560-2571. 20. National Heart Lung and Blood Institute. Third report of the Expert Panel on Detection, Evaluation and Treatment of High Blood Cholesterol in Adults (Adult Treatment Panel III). http://www.nhlbi .nih.gov/guidelines/cholesterol/index.htm (updated version 2004). 21. Institute of Medicine of the National Academies. Childhood Obesity Prevention. Washington, DC: Institute of Medicine of the National Academies; 2008. 22. American Academy of Pediatrics. Guide- lines on cholesterol screening. July 7, 2008. http://www.aap.org/new/july08lipid- screening.htm. 23. American Diabetes Association. Are you at risk? http://www.diabetes.org/diabetes- cholesterol/risk.jsp. 24. Daniels S, Greer F, Committee on Nutrition. Lipid screening and cardiovascular health in childhood. Pediatrics. 2008;122:198-208. 25. Stampfer MJ, Hu FB, Manson JE, Rimm EB, Willet WC. Primary prevention of coronary heart disease in women through diet and lifestyle. N Engl J Med. 2000;343:16-22. 26. Reeves MJ, Rafferty AP. Healthy life- style characteristics among adults in the United States, 2000. Arch Intern Med. 2005;165:854-857. 27. Greenlund K, Giles W, Keenan N, et al. Physician advice, patient actions, and health-related quality of life in secondary prevention of stroke through diet and exer- cise. Stroke. 2002;33:565-571. 28. Goldfine H, Ward A, Taylor P, Carlucci D, Rippe JM. Exercising to health: what’s really in it for your patients? Part 1: the health benefits of exercise. Phys Sports Med. 1991;19:81-81. 29. Sciamanna CN, Tate DF, Lang W, Wing RR. Who reports receiving advice to lose weight? Results from a multistate survey. Arch Intern Med. 2000;160(15):2334-2339. 30. Porter ME. A strategy for health care reform—toward a value-based system. N Engl J Med. 2009;361:2:109-112. 31. Frank E, Schelbert K, Elon L. Exercise counseling and personal exercise habits of US women physicians. J Am Med Womens Assoc. 2003;58:178-184. 32. Frank E, Wright E, Serdule M, Elon L, Baldwin G. Personal and professional nutrition-related practices of US female phy- sicians. Am J Clin Nutr. 2002;75:326-332. 33. Abramson S, Stein J, Schaufele M, Frates E, Rogan S. Personal exercise habits and counseling practices of primary care phy- sicians: a national survey. Clin J Sport Med. 2000;10(1):40-48. 34. Lewis C, Clancy C, Leake B, Schwartz J. The counseling practices of internists. Ann Intern Med. 1991;114(1):54-58. 35. Emerson RW. New England reformers. In: Collected Essays, 2nd series. Boston, MA: Houghton, Mifflin; 1876. 
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work_pf4obyokz5eyrehi3hzrwfkwze	----	“What Thoughts I Have of You Tonight, Walt Whitman” Continuity and Innovation in Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” by Zélia Catarina Pedro Rafael1 Abstract: In his essay “The Poet,” Emerson called for the poet who would sing the burgeoning nation of the United States of America. The answer to his request far exceeded all his expectations in the form of a ground-breaking volume of poems where Walt Whitman sang not only a nation, but the people who inhabited it as the people incarnated the values, struggles, dreams and disappointments that formed the living tissue of America. In Leaves of Grass, Walt Whitman also expressed his dream of the birth of a race of poet-priests who, through time and space, would guide their fellow men and women as compassionate and empathetic brethren (Whitman, “Preface” ll. 752-765). In time, this request would be answered, and generations of poets would sing the lives of the men and women that made America, in search of a more human, close and empathetic form of being and living. One of these writers was Allen Ginsberg who, in “Howl,” translated the core of the experience of the men and women of his generation into a heart-felt and wrenching cry for humanity in a society marked by “uncompassionate [...] war rules” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 29). This essay aims to bring to light a few instances wherein this continuity is patent, while pointing out the profound humanistic desires that moved both Whitman and Ginsberg to place themselves, through their words, by the side of each and every individual who walks this earth. 1 Zélia Catarina Pedro Rafael is currently studying at the University of Iceland, where she is pursuing a PhD in English. Rafael 1 Introduction Poetry, as a form of expression, surpasses the real or fabricated boundaries of time, space, culture and lifestyle. Within the American context, the great call made by Ralph Waldo Emerson for the advent of a poet who would sing America and its peoples kept resonating far beyond its immediate socio-temporal context. According to Professor Karen Karbiener, this response began with Walt Whitman, and continued across time and space, resounding from outstanding poets such as William Carlos Williams, Allen Ginsberg, and even Bob Dylan (54- 92). In this sense, the poets who have answered to this great call have been influenced by each other, have responded to each other, and have tried, additionally, to offer a contribution to the specific context of their time in an original and creative manner. Thus, they have left their personal imprint in an ever-changing world in need of meaning, connection, and humanity. An avid reader of Whitman, whose “poems serve as candid models for [his] own verse,” Allen Ginsberg can be seen as a further link in this chain of individuals who voiced the concerns, desires and yearnings of the common people of their time (Ginsberg, “Whitman’s Influence” 333). A member of a countercultural group of individuals referred to as the Beat Generation, Ginsberg was not without controversy. However, the great dimension of his creative genius comes across throughout his life and work as a revolutionary stance on art, humanism and openness in an America marked by the paranoia of Cold War. This is particularly patent in his poem “Howl,” a semi-autobiographical poem which, nonetheless, encompasses the experiences of many men and women of his time, as “the personal communicates the universal” (Karbiener 71). In effect, the post-war world of abundance represented by the American Dream narrative had a darker side of massification and artificiality that led to a deep dissatisfaction among certain sectors of society (Shi and Tindall 1265-78). The ensuing search for a deeper meaning for the events that were taking place, as well as for the recovery of a sense of individual importance and weight on a broader social level, can thus be compared to that experienced by transcendentalists such as Emerson or Rafael 2 Whitman. It can therefore be said that, when composing “Howl,” Ginsberg was not merely set on reproducing the patterns of poetry which he inherited from Whitman, but also in updating them to his own specific context. Through the use of relevant terminology, rhythm and imagery, wherein both he and his contemporaries could recognize themselves and the world they inhabited, Ginsberg was able to successfully craft a meaningful poetic work “which [reflected] the flux of modern life” (William Carlos Williams qtd. in Ginsberg, The Best Minds 358). Rafael 3 Poetry for the Modern Man: From Whitman to Ginsberg A New Race of American Poets The history of the ongoing poetic dialogue which has been taking place over the last one- hundred and fifty years was boosted by an essay written by Ralph Waldo Emerson. “The Poet” was perceived as a nation-wide call for a poet who would sing America and its peoples. At the same time, this poet was to open the path for a future stream of followers who would interpret the eternal “cadences [of] that region where the air is music,” the music of a timeless art, [...] for poetry was all written before time,” and it is the place of the true poet to transcribe this immortal harmony and turn it into “the songs of the nations” (Emerson, “The Poet” 322- 24). America, with its landscapes and its peoples was, for Emerson, a great poem in need of transcription, so to speak, in need of revitalization and assurance, in a time where the optimism of territorial and urban expansion went hand in hand with the uncertainty of unknown challenges and an unclear future (Shi and Tindall 556). Therefore, more than ever, the presence of someone who would see and sing the beauty of America in all its forms, as an expression of the divine presence in the life and environment of the burgeoning nation, became extremely necessary. In Emerson’s words, “beauty, in its largest and profoundest sense, is one expression for the universe. God [or the transcendental signifier] is the all fair. Truth, and goodness, and beauty, are but different faces of the same All” (Emerson, “Nature” 14). In that sense, the new American Bard who was to embody the fullness of his calling as a poet for the new and confident America, would possess quasi-universal features. In effect, the assertion of his country and fellow citizens would not only be circumscribed to the physical boundaries of geographical limits but would encompass the entire universe. It was this cosmic calling that led Whitman to a boil (Trowbridge). A journalist by profession at the time when Emerson’s essay saw the light of day, Whitman had been a follower of the man he referred to as his master, as well as of the publications of the circle to which Emerson belonged, the Transcendentalists. A seeker of Rafael 4 meaning in a world torn by the pharisaic morals of his time, Whitman thus used his poetic voice to elevate the downtrodden and proclaim the collective humanity of all individuals, regardless of class, gender and occupation. The tenor of Whitman’s response to Emerson, as well as the form which it would eventually take is beautifully described in his “Preface” to the 1855 edition of Leaves of Grass, the first edition of his collection of poems. Alluding to the new revolution in poetry, Whitman referred to the rising of a new race of poets, stating that “through the divinity of themselves shall the kosmos and the new breed of poets be interpreters of men and women and of all events and things. They shall find their inspiration in real objects today [...]” (Whitman, “Preface” ll. 758-761). The new poets emerging from among the people would then translate the world and its places and events to the men and women of the present time. Thus, the universal and eternal harmony to which Emerson refers to in “The Poet” could be translated and disseminated through time and space by the pen of the sensitive listeners whose outstanding gifts would allow them to make eternity accessible in time (322). Moreover, the importance of finding inspiration in their contemporaneous environment leads poets to the notion that any time is a worthy time, wherein the hue of the All which Emerson refers to in “Nature” remains accessible to all individuals (14). The transcendent remains, in this manner, present in the immanence of everyday life, and attainable in terms that the man and woman of every spatial-temporal context are able to grasp and command. The Importance of Words An attribute of the poet that Emerson idealizes is the meaningful and symbolic use of language, for “every word was once a poem [and] every new relation is a new word” (Emerson, “The Poet” 327). He goes on to state: Rafael 5 Thought makes everything fit for use. The thought of an omniscient man would embrace words and images excluded from polite conversation. What would be base, or even obscene, to the obscene, becomes illustrious, spoken in a new connection of thought. (Emerson, “The Poet” 327) With these words, Emerson is giving way to a revolution in the style of poetic composition, as the possibility of making poetry from everyday events, with the underlying significance of converting every aspect of life into something sublime did, in time, lead to forms of expression of which he himself would have not necessarily approved. An example of this is seen when he asked and almost ordered Whitman to tone down his sexually charged language and imagery by removing “the objectionable passages,” as these were not acceptable to the polite society of the time (Kaplan 249). Nevertheless, it was Whitman’s explicit purpose to shock his audience into the realization that all dimensions of human nature are beautiful and divine, despite what the best minds of his time defended as morally correct or acceptable (Reynolds, Beneath the American Renaissance 54-91). This progressive tendency to a growing use of realistic language reached an important turn in the poetry of Allen Ginsberg, whose leap into fame occurred through the reading and subsequent publication of his poem “Howl.” Following in the steps of the poets who had preceded him, Ginsberg strived for the creation of a form of poetry which, in the words of William Carlos Williams, would “reflect the flux of modern life” (qtd. in Ginsberg, The Best Minds 358). In this sense, Ginsberg also incarnates the stream of poets called for by Emerson, as he possesses the required qualities to “use forms according to life, and not according to the forms” themselves. The true poet then recognizes that “we are symbols and inhabit symbols,” which leads him to create and recreate language according to his specific context (Emerson, “The Poet” 328-329). This is visible in Ginsberg’s use of evocative and fast-paced imagery in Rafael 6 “Howl.” Ginsberg kept in mind the Aristotelian notion of metaphor as “the apt relationship of dissimilars,” as he began figuring that the more opposite the words, the more amazing the flash in the mind. The mind will create a flash just like a lightning flash between two poles. [Therefore], the more contradictory the two poles, the more explosive and inclusive the mental flash to bind them together. (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 391) Hence the rapid succession of images in the verses of “Howl,” designed to create a gap in the reader’s mind, which he or she then “has to fill in [...] by connecting them” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 389). As far as language is concerned, Ginsberg additionally sought to tear down the barriers between life and art, once and for all, by means of approximating poetic language to everyday language, similar to that used in familiar conversation. With that in mind, he drew upon colloquialisms, reference to his personal experiences, and reflection upon his reality and that of the people in his circle of friends. Through this combination of references, he aimed at the desired actualization of the American poetic tendency of meditating on its immediate socio-historical context. In this sense, Ginsberg followed in the steps of Whitman, whereby he openly demonstrated an acceptance of the world around him, in all its glory and imperfections. Like Whitman, Ginsberg was not afraid to “[descend] into an underworld of darkness, suffering, isolation, and then [ascend] into spiritual knowledge, blessedness, achieved vision, and a sense of union with humanity and God [or the ultimate transcendental signifier]” (Karbiener 72). It is this essential “vision of possibility and hope” that approximates Whitman and Ginsberg (Karbiener 72), while it appears as a proof of their attempt to eliminate the distances between art and life and, in this manner, create a more Rafael 7 compassionate environment in a society marked by “uncompassionate [...] war rules” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 29). Music and Meaning Another important factor which influenced the poetry of both Whitman and Ginsberg is music. Despite their different tastes, which depended on the temporal, historical and social contexts that both authors frequented, the rhythms of the music of their preference had a considerable weight in shaping both authors’ poetic production. Whitman, by all accounts, was familiar with different genres of music from an early age, particularly due to the influence of his mother, Louisa Van Velsor Whitman (Strassburg). Later in life, while living in New York, Whitman became familiar with Opera, gradually developing a taste for “the dramatic overtures, the passionate cantabile arias, the eloquent sobbing recitatives, [which he would go on to say] were among the shaping forces of his free-verse style poetry” (Strassburg). Nevertheless, the determining factor behind his preference for Opera might have been other than its specific stylistic musical arrangement. According to David S. Reynolds, in the antebellum period there was yet no distinction made “between high, popular, and middlebrow culture [something that went on] to solidify [...] after the Civil War, when America became institutionalized” (Walt Whitman’s America 155). For that reason, the different styles of music coexisted and influenced each other in a dynamic “interpenetration of different modes and styles” (Reynolds, Walt Whitman’s America 156). It was this interaction that Whitman wished to maintain alive in his poetry, opening it to the presence of people from all walks of life and portraying their existence in his verse. Moreover, the open space of the theater, despite minor differences between seating arrangements, became far more equalizing once the audiences engaged with the performers. It was at these times that the external contrasts became “erased by the noisy enthusiasm shared by all during performances,” and all men became brethren (Reynolds, Walt Whitman’s America 157). Rafael 8 Ginsberg’s musical inspiration came from a different source. Familiar with a diverse range of musical production, Ginsberg was especially influenced by jazz. The rhythms of a typically African-American form of music, to which Ginsberg was exposed during his outings to Harlem with his beatnik friends, made a deep impact in the style of his generation (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 31-42). The temporal simultaneity of “the notion of variable speech in poetics” professed by William Carlos Williams with the same type of work that saxophonists and trumpeters were doing in jazz music is astounding. In a similar manner to what occurred in Whitman’s time, music and other forms of art influence and re-create each other. According to Ginsberg, “the saxophone echoed the breath of speech and it was as if it was speaking in accents of conversation or excited rhapsodic talk” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 36). Thus, the musicians, whose existence was taking place on the streets, carried their environment into the sonority that they were creating. In the case of poetry, this led to the development of “a close parallel between the music and the poetics” in a recreation of “the humor of actual speech phrasing,” which influenced both the form, rhythm and contents of the literary work that originated in Ginsberg’s immediate context (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 36- 37). The work of William Carlos Williams had a great influence on Ginsberg’s creative process, inasmuch as the former’s notions of poetic composition were also strongly influenced by jazz music. In terms of rhythm, “it was Williams’s opinion that “the iamb is not the normal measure of American speech.” For that reason, “the foot has to be expanded and contracted in terms of actual speech. The key to modern poetry is measure, which must reflect the flux of modern life. For man and poet must keep pace with modern life” (qtd. in Ginsberg, The Best Minds 358). Moreover, in the search to adapt to everyday speech patterns and wording, Williams believed that the appropriate way to measure verse was in the function of the speaker’s breath. Hence the expression “‘breath stop’ [that is] you halt the line at the end of the breath or use the breath as the measure of the verse line” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds Rafael 9 382). In that sense, the verse would work in a similar manner as the form in which “a funny long sentence breath ending in ‘moop’ was manifested through the saxophone breath” (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 36). In the following pages, I will propose possible connections between excerpts of Whitman’s poems, such as “Song of Myself,” “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” and “The Sleepers,” with excerpts of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl.” In so doing, the continuity and innovations brought about by Ginsberg will appear as further signs of hope in a society marked by rampant technical and scientific innovation, and characterized by consumerism, along with a growing distance between the individuals who comprise it. Rafael 10 “Howl”: Where Ginsberg and Whitman Intersect “Howl” was written between 1955 and 1956, a time of profound changes in American society at large. According to Shi and Tindall, after the Second World War, America moved steadily into a time of progress and abundance, characterized by consumerism and the revival of the cult of domesticity. Contrasting with that internal prosperity was an increasing paranoia about anything Soviet or Communist, at a time when exalting Americanness went hand in hand with repressing anything that would remotely undermine the American lifestyle. Scientific and technological progress allowed for the advancement of the country as a world power, at the same time that it opened the path for the creation of a hereto unknown comfortable standard of living, which would become easily accessible to the masses. The advent of television, the creation of suburbia, the wide availability of restaurant chains, take-out food, house appliances and personal transportation defined the newly achieved prosperity of a society on the rise, where anything seemed possible and attainable. This was the American Dream, and consumerism was its motto. At the same time, this very consumerism was the embodiment, albeit to a certain extent, of the cult of allegiance due to the unstoppable machinery that fed into the nation’s ever-growing power, both inside and outside of its borders. Progress notwithstanding, not everyone was pleased with the direction things were taking. Among the cluster of the discontented were the members of the Beat generation, a group of artists whose ideological position often clashed with the hyper-idealized and shallow society of the time (Shi and Tindall 1217-1280). In effect, behind the picture-perfect middle-class prosperity of mainstream propaganda, “the best minds of [an entire generation were being] destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked” (Ginsberg, “Howl” l.1). What is more, they were running after any form of alienating experience to draw them out of their bodies and into the ecstasy of a world beyond their own, where the chastising and oppressing mind mentioned in “Howl,” with its programmed responses would no longer have power over them. Rafael 11 Strangers Sharing Spaces Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” appears the anthem of a new America, in a time characterized by a deeply conservative and massifying ideology. It is a song on the list of songs called forth by Emerson, however different the context and country that it sings, for the glorious days seem to have given place to more somber realities, as the bucolic landscapes and the optimism of a burgeoning nation gave way to a more settled and stratified society (“The Poet” 338-341). In this sense, it can also be said that “Howl” appeared as a “direct response” to Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself” (Karbiener 69). If the connection is not obvious at first, mainly due to the type of imagery that Ginsberg uses, and the overall pessimistic tone of the poem, “Howl” does depict its time and is, indeed, vested of “redeeming social importance” (Judge Clayton W. Horn qtd. in Ginsberg, Howl: Original Draft, 176). Perhaps the point where these works intersect more clearly is the reference to human suffering and growing distance between people who populate similar spaces yet are internally far apart. The same leitmotif is present more clearly in Whitman’s poem “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry,” wherein the solitude of the inhabitant of the growing urban conglomerate becomes a stranger to his or her fellow men and women, while fear and suspicion constitute the essence of human relations. Hence the fall into desperation and madness referred to by Ginsberg who, writing at a hundred-year distance, depicts the evolution of Whitman’s New York, describing the ordeals of the descendants of Whitman’s contemporaries. The following excerpt of “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry” seems to illustrate this reality: The simple, compact, well-join’d scheme, myself disintegrated, every one disintegrated yet part of the scheme, [...]. // ........................................................................ [I] Saw many I loved in the street or ferry-boat or public assembly, yet never told them a word, Rafael 12 Lived the same life with the rest, [...] ................................................................................ Play’d the part [...], ................................................................................. The same old role, the role that is what we make it [...]. (ll. 6, 80-84) Whitman offers a deeply meaningful depiction of the anonymity that individuals experience among the crowds, along with the monotonous and dehumanizing rhythms of urban life. Albeit in an exponentially greater manner, and under different forms, this is still very much a reality in Ginsberg’s New York. In effect, the mechanical rhythms and dehumanizing massification are still present in the lives of the “best minds of [Ginsberg’s] generation”, whose existence takes place in an America marked by strict conservatism and paranoia, where all men are potential enemies and need to be kept under control by the government and its multiple secret agencies (“Howl” l.1). Or, in case the controlling machine fails, numbed into an idyllic bourgeois existence where they slave away their dreams and aspirations for the sake of the almighty dollar and the commodities that it can offer. Solidarity in Times of Change Despite the bleak picture that “Howl” offers of the social context wherefrom it emerged, the poem was not meant as a judgement or a “rejection,” or even a social critique (Ginsberg qtd. in Morgan 218). To Ginsberg, “Howl” should appear as a sign of hope, the embrace of a flawed reality, the cry for solidarity, “compassion and [...] sympathy,” in a society governed by “war rules” that were “uncompassionate” in essence. (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 29). What is more, it was Ginsberg’s aim to express his “feelings of [...] identification with the rejected, mystical, individual even ‘mad’” (Ginsberg qtd. in Morgan 218). “Howl” was then thought as a moment or a generator of a deep communion between individuals whose lives evolved in Rafael 13 parallel, without ever intersecting with each other, and in so doing create the notion of a common humanity and a sense of union. “Howl” then continues and expands the legacy of Whitman’s poetic work, wherein the proclamation of the sacredness of the bond which human beings share is stronger than the external differences that separate them. It is in part three of “Howl” where this desire for communion appears in all its strength, as the poetic persona identifies himself with Carl Solomon, accompanying him through the various external and internal stages of his stay in the imaginary “Rockland.” This place actually stood for the “Pilgrim State, the same hospital where Naomi [Ginsberg’s mother] was being treated” (Morgan 200). Ginsberg not only witnesses Solomon’s experiences, but he also becomes one with him. This impulse constitutes an echo of Whitman’s experience of unity in “The Sleepers,” where he states that “I dream in my dreams all the dreams of the other dreamers, / And I become the other dreamers” (l. 30). In establishing this symbiotic connection, Ginsberg aligns himself, once again, with the downtrodden of his time, the most stigmatized members of his and, perhaps, of all societies, that is, those who suffer from any form of mental illness. This is an issue that has a deep echo in Ginsberg’s personal experience as his mother suffered from severe mental illness and he himself was committed to a mental facility (Morgan 13, 114). It was, in effect, during that time of his life, that he met Carl Solomon. Therefore, this identification goes beyond the external solidarity for an unknown phenomenon and crosses into the realm of the personal, as Ginsberg is describing something that he suffered firsthand. Solomon additionally comes to symbolize Naomi, whose condition made a deep impact in Ginsberg’s life and perception of himself and of the world around him (Morgan 13-35). Similar notions of solidarity and identification with society’s outcasts are present in the following excerpt of “Song of Myself,” wherein Whitman identifies with the suffering of his contemporaries: I am the man, I suffer’d, I was there. // Rafael 14 ......................................................... I do not ask the wounded person how he feels, I myself become the wounded person, // ......................................................... I seize the descending man and raise him with resistless will, O despairer, here is my neck, By God, you shall not go down! hang your whole weight upon me. (ll. 830, 844, 1011-1013) In regard to the notion of madness, it is worth making a parenthesis to refer to part two of “Howl,” the Moloch section. Moloch is mentioned in the Bible, both in the Old and the New Testaments, and is associated with rather ominous connotations, as his name refers to “a Canaanite deity associated [...] with the practice of child sacrifice” (“Moloch”). This pagan ritual, adopted by the Jews, was performed in the valley of Gehenna, a place believed to be the gateway to hell, which was later converted into a dumping site for all types of debris from Jerusalem, from common trash to the dead bodies of convicts (“Gehenna”). It is interesting to note that it was in the valley of the Gehenna, also referred to as the valley of Ben-Hinnom, where Judas Iscariot committed suicide after betraying Jesus. Therefore, the reference to Moloch in part two of “Howl” appears as a symbol for all the negative forces which undermine human existence in all its stages. According to Ginsberg’s choice of imagery while referring to Moloch in the second part of “Howl,” this mythical monster that he creates may very well symbolize the oppressive forces at work in his America, which suppress “the expression of natural ecstasy, and when there is no social form for expression, the person gets confused and thinks he really is mad and then does go off his rocker” (qtd. in Morgan 218). The collective straight-jacket of utopian prosperity where all people are forced into a stereotypical existence, whereby the mass production of homes, cars, and clothing, as well as Rafael 15 the uniformization of a given lifestyle supposedly generated a golden oasis of happiness was, indeed, seen by Ginsberg as the truly demonic force which annuls the possibility of individual expression. In that sense, “Moloch whose mind is pure machinery [and] whose blood is running money” is a soulless contraption that devours everything and everyone within its reach, leaving behind a legacy of destruction and solitude (Ginsberg, “Howl” l. 82). The result is the illusion of material prosperity as the only possible source of happiness, along with an existential solitude which touches the lines of hysteria due to the sacrifice of one’s identity, dreams, feelings; in a word, all that makes people truly human, to a relentless and impersonal machine of progress that works for the benefit of a selected few. “Everything is Holy!” (“Footnote to Howl” 142) Ginsberg, like Whitman, chooses to maintain an optimist view on the world and the people who inhabit it. Far from sinking under the pressure of a world that seems to suffocate the expansive impulses of the rising stars who inhabit it, or drown in the pessimism and collective scrutiny which characterizes his immediate environment, Ginsberg opts to believe in the people around him. Thus, he closes the sequence of desperate cries that constitute “Howl” with a section that affirms the sanctity of creation, the beauty of mankind and of each and every individual human being. What is more, he exalts the truly human deep-rooted virtues which are encompassed in “the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent kindness of the soul” (Ginsberg, “Footnote to Howl” 142). In this manner, Ginsberg fulfills his program of spreading an ideology of solidarity and compassion in a world divided by “uncompassionate [...] rules [which, even at their best,] are applied abusively,” rendering them clearly obsolete (Ginsberg, The Best Minds 29). Hence the need to sing the toils of an America which, despite the unprecedented technological and economic progress, forces its youth into a vertigo of drugs and alienation in the search for a deeper meaning of a reality that they are unable to fit into, or that simply has Rafael 16 no space for them. In this sense, Ginsberg once more approximates his poetic work to that of Whitman who, despite the deep social rifts of his time, still looked onto the human condition with optimism and hope. This is patent in the following verses of “The Sleepers,” wherein the people whom the poetic persona visits in his disembodied sleep appear equaled in essence: I swear they are all beautiful, Every one that sleeps is beautiful, [...], // .............................................. The soul is always beautiful, The universe is duly in order, [...], // .............................................. The sleepers are very beautiful as they lie unclothed, They flow hand in hand over the whole earth from east to west as they lie unclothed, [...]. (ll. 144, 154, 160-1) The poet, whoever he is, whenever and wherever he lives on this earth, appears as a seeker and translator of beauty, someone who unites the fragments of the present with the stability of the eternal. These are the main features of the poet dreamt by Emerson, and incarnated by Whitman and Ginsberg, as beacons of hope and compassion who represented and inspired the societies of their times. Rafael 17 Conclusion A builder of bridges between the transcendent and the immanent, the poet has the extraordinary capacity to unite the different aspects of reality while asserting “the predominance of the soul” (Emerson, “Nature” 30). In so doing, he or she takes on an irreplaceable social function, acting as a collective conscience that manifests itself through words that are shaped by the world where they are formed, at the same time that they configure the people and the society where they are sown. This is the case of individuals such as Walt Whitman and Allen Ginsberg, whose poetic work both reflected and acted upon their immediate spatial-temporal context, while being a part of a broader dialogue within the American literary scene which continues to this day. Poets to their core, while sharing common views and methods, they were both successful in creating relevant forms of expression wherein both their contemporaries as well as the successive generations are able to recognize themselves. In that sense, Whitman’s and Ginsberg’s words, composed in time and space, cross these barriers and become truly immortal and universal, as “the melodies of the poet ascend and leap and pierce into the deeps of infinite time” (Emerson, “The Poet” 330). Rafael 18 Works Cited “Gehenna.” New World Encyclopedia, www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Gehenna. Accessed 24 Aug. 2020. Ginsberg, Allen. The Best Minds of My Generation: A Literary History of the Beats, edited by Bill Morgan, Penguin Classics, 2018. ---. “A Supermarket in California.” Norton Anthology of American Literature: Shorter Sixth Edition. Edited by Nina Baim, shorter 6th ed., W.W. Norton & Co., 2003, pp. 2739-2740. ---. “Footnote to “Howl.” Collected Poems 1947-1997. Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006, p. 142. ---. “Howl.” Norton Anthology of American Literature: Shorter Sixth Edition. Edited by Nina Baim, shorter 6th ed., W.W. Norton & Co., 2003, pp. 2732-2739. ---. Howl: Original Draft Facsimile, Transcripts & Variant Versions, Fully Annotated by Author, with Contemporary Correspondence, Account of First Public Reading, Legal Skirmishes, Precursor Texts and Bibliography, edited by Barry Miles, Viking, 1987. ---. “Whitman’s Influence: A Mountain Too Vast to Be Seen.” 1982. Deliberate Prose: Selected Essays Edited by Bill Morgan, Harper Collins Publishers, 2000, pp. 332-333. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Nature.” The Complete Essays and Other Writings by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 1940. Edited by Brooks Atkinson, The Modern Library / Random House Inc., 1950, pp. 3-42. ---. “The Poet.” The Complete Essays and Other Writings by Ralph Waldo Emerson. 1940. Edited by Brooks Atkinson, The Modern Library / Random House Inc., 1950, pp. 319-341. Kaplan, Justin. Walt Whitman: A Life. 1980. Perennial Classics/ Harper Collins, 2003. Karbiener, Karen. Walt Whitman and the Birth of Modern American Poetry: Course Guide. Recorded Books LLC, 2004. Audible.com, download.audible.com/product_related_docs/BK_RECO_003373.pdf. Accessed 24 Aug. 2020. Rafael 19 “Moloch.” Encyclopaedia Britannica Online, 10 Mar. 2020, www.britannica.com/topic/Moloch-ancient-god. Accessed 24 Aug. 2020. Morgan, Bill. I Celebrate Myself: The Somewhat Private Life of Allen Ginsberg. Penguin, 2006. Reynolds, David S. Beneath the American Renaissance: The Subversive Imagination of Emerson and Melville. Oxford University Press, 2011. ---. Walt Whitman’s America: A Cultural Biography. Vintage Books, 1996. Shi. David E., and George B. Tindall. America: A Narrative Story. 10th ed., W. W. Norton & Company, 2016. Strassburg, Robert. “Music, Whitman and.” The Walt Whitman Archive, whitmanarchive.org/criticism/current/encyclopedia/entry_544.html. Accessed 24 Aug. 2020. Trowbridge, John Townsend. “Reminiscences of Walt Whitman.” The Atlantic Monthly, vol. 89, no. 2, pp. 163-175, Feb. 1902, The Atlantic Online, www.theatlantic.com/past/docs/unbound/poetry/whitman/walt.htm. Accessed 24 Aug. 2020. Whitman, Walt. “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry.” Leaves of Grass and Other Writings. Edited by Michael Moon, Norton Critical Editions, W.W. Norton & Co., 2002, pp. 135-140. ---. “Preface 1855 – Leaves of Grass, First Edition.” Leaves of Grass and Other Writings. Edited by Michael Moon, Norton Critical Editions, W.W. Norton & Co., 2002, pp. 616-636. ---. “The Sleepers.” Leaves of Grass and Other Writings. Edited by Michael Moon, Norton Critical Editions, W.W. Norton & Co., 2002, pp. 356-364. ---. “Song of Myself.” Leaves of Grass and Other Writings. Edited by Michael Moon, Norton Critical Editions, W.W. Norton & Co., 2002, pp. 26-78. 
work_pfsw2z2ibzaubdktrk6atf3leu	----	A Transcendental Education Transcendental Learning: The Educational Legacy of Alcott, Emerson, Fuller, Peabody and Thoreau We shall one day learn to supersede politics by education. What we call our root-and-branch reforms of slavery, war, gambling, intemperance, is only medicating the symptoms. We must begin higher up, namely, in Education. -Emerson In antebellum America, a group of individuals living mostly in Concord Massachusetts, have had a continuing influence on our lives. Daniel Walker Howe in his Pulitzer Prize winning history of the antebellum period in America, What Hath God Wrought, writes about the “extraordinary outburst of genius” which was comparable to fifth century Athens or sixteenth century Florence. He (2007) also writes of their continuing impact: The writings of the Transcendentalists affirm some of the best qualities characteristic of American civilization: self-reliance, willingness to question authority, a quest for spiritual nourishment. Their writings, even today, urge us to independent reflection in the face of fads, conformity, blind partisanship, and mindless consumerism. (p.626) It is somewhat ironic that a movement that focused on the individual could impact social and political movements including the independence of India and the civil rights movement in the United States. In Blessed Unrest Paul Hawken argues that 1 Emerson’s ideas formed a seed that grew through the work of Thoreau, Gandhi and Martin Luther King. Hawken writes that when Emerson came to France in 1832, he was moved by his visits to the Jardin des Plantes and the Cabinet of Natural History in Paris. Walking in the Jardin des Plantes and seeing how animals and nature were connected led Emerson to his insight of how life was deeply interconnected. He wrote later, “Nature is intricate, overlapped, interweaved, and endless.” (2003, p. 433) Hawken (2007) writes, “It was Emerson’s first encounter with the web of life.” (p.73) This insight led Emerson to write his essay Nature which became one of the key works in Transcendentalism. Emerson “planted seeds that would develop into what were, and continue to be, two disparate concepts that animate our daily existence: how we treat nature and how we treat one another-the foundations of environmental and social justice.” (p.73) Thoreau picked up these two strands which bore fruit in Walden a book that continues to inspire the environmental movement and Civil Disobedience which Gandhi read in 1906. When Gandhi was first arrested in South Africa in 1908, he took Thoreau’s writings with him so he “could find arguments in favor of our fight.” (p.79) It was Thoreau’s integration of ideas and practice that appealed to Gandhi. For Gandhi, Thoreau was someone who “taught nothing he was not prepared to practice himself.” (Gandhi, p. 113) This was something that Gandhi took to heart and when asked once about giving some words of wisdom he said that “my life is my message.” In 1956 during the Montgomery bus boycott a colleague gave Martin Luther King three books: Gandhi’s Autobiography, Thoreau’s Civil Disobedience, and Richard Gregg’s The Power of Non Violence. When the boycott was finished and King was asked what books influenced him the most he mentioned all three of these works. Today the 2 Dalai Lama and Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma continue to echo the original message of Emerson and Thoreau with their non-violent ethic. As Paul Hawken (2007) has so ably documented, this vision has continued today particularly through the non-violence ethic but also through what he refers to as the “movement without a name”. This is a movement that includes perhaps two million grass roots groups around the world working for constructive change. The core ethic that unites these groups is rooted in the ethic of non-violence and a sense of the sacred. In education, this movement includes a diverse group including Waldorf, Montessori, Reggio Emilia schools, home schooling, democratic schools, and variety of alternative approaches to education. These educators tend to embrace a vision of educating the whole child and reject the mechanistic models that currently dominate the educational scene. In Toronto, for example, a group of parents, community members, and teachers have come together to initiate a school for the whole child within the Toronto District School Board (www.wholechildschool.ca) that started in September 2009. (Miller, 2010) This school is now called Equinox Holistic Alternative School and incorporates some of the features of Transcendental Learning. Transcendental Learning The Transcendentalists were interested in education but unlike the work I have just discussed, we have ignored their vision of learning. It is high time that we looked more closely at their view of teaching and learning. Alcott and Peabody devoted their lives to teaching and learning but Emerson, Fuller, and Thoreau also taught and shared many thoughts on education. The thesis of this paper is that they left an important legacy 3 http://www.wholechildschool.ca/ that can help us move beyond today’s narrow view of education that focuses on preparing students so that they can compete in the global economy. What we have today is education that centers on job creation and high stakes testing that is part of a corporate view of schooling. Emerson’s (1966) critique of education still holds today. He wrote about what we fail to give students. We do not give them a training as if we believed in their noble nature. We scarce educate their bodies. We do not train the eye and the hand. We exercise their understandings to the apprehension and comparison of some facts, to a skill in numbers in words; we aim to make accountants, attorneys, engineers, but not to make able, earnest, great-hearted men. (p.211) For the past 25 years educational reform has focused on testing as the way to improve student achievement. No Child Left Behind has been the culminating legislation of this movement in the United States. Education systems have reinforced fragmentation rather than connectedness. They have become part of a world where there is corporate corruption, deep distrust of politicians and the political process, environmental destruction, and an empty lifestyle based on materialism and consumption. The obsession with test results rather than a sensible approach to accountability has only led to deeper and more pervasive forms of fragmentation and alienation. In 2011 we learned of wide spread cheating and false reporting in the Atlanta schools. 4 In contrast to the current vision schooling, the Transcendentalists offer an inspiring vision of education that focuses on wholeness and wisdom. Its aim, as Emerson states, is to produce “great-hearted” individuals. It does not deny the spiritual and provides a language and approach to spirituality that is inclusive. The Transcendentalists offer a redemptive vision of education that includes: -educating the whole child-body, mind, and soul, -happiness as a goal of education, -educating students so they see the interconnectedness in nature, -recognizing the inner wisdom of the child as something to be honored and nurtured, - a blueprint for environmental education through the work of Thoreau, -an inspiring vision for educating women of all ages through the work of Fuller, -an experimental approach to pedagogy that continually seeks for more effective ways of educating children, -a recognition of the importance of the presence of teacher and encouraging teachers to be aware and conscious of their own behavior. - a vision of multicultural and bilingual education through the work of Elizabeth Peabody. The Transcendentalists challenge us to provide an education that inspires or, in Emerson’s words, sets “the hearts of youth on flame”. Transcendental education recognizes what Thoreau (2002) said that “ Surely joy is the condition of life.” (p.5) Transcendental learning engages the child fully; of course, not every moment in a Transcendental classroom is an epiphany but ultimately students look forward to coming to schools that employ the principles outlined by the Transcendentalists. 5 TRANCENDENTAL EDUCATORS I have chosen to describe the work of the following five individuals because they all taught at one time and held a view of education that was essentially holistic. Ralph Waldo Emerson Ralph Waldo Emerson was the intellectual leader of the Transcendentalists and mentor to the others described in this book. His lectures and essays inspired many individuals connected with Transcendentalism. Buell comments that for the Transcendentalists it was more important to “inspire than explain.” (p. xxiii) Emerson did not lay out a systematic philosophy but wrote and spoke in a manner that moved the reader and the listener. James Russell Lowell wrote “I have heard some great speakers and some accomplished orators, but never any that so moved and persuaded me as he.” (Cited in McAleer, p. 493) Many of Emerson’s ideas resonate with a holistic perspective. He wrote (1990), “Nothing is quite beautiful alone, nothing but is beautiful in the whole. A single object is only so far beautiful as it suggests this universal grace.” (p.26) Henry David Thoreau Henry David Thoreau lived in Concord and would stay in Emerson’s home while Emerson was away lecturing. Thoreau was the earthy face of Transcendentalism. He loved nature and could be viewed as the father of the American environmental movement 6 with his book Walden as one of its seminal texts. Thoreau was also a teacher; he and his brother, John, started and ran their own school that incorporated principles of holistic learning. Margaret Fuller Margaret Fuller can be viewed not only as one the foremost Transcendentalists but as one of the most important women in 19th Century America. Her book, Woman in the Nineteenth Century, explored the intellectual and social position of women and argued against women’s second class status. She also was the first editor of the journal of Transcendentalism, The Dial. Fuller was also an elementary school teacher but is most known for the “Conversations” that she ran for women in Boston. She led discussions with women that covered a wide range of topics that were designed to intellectually engage the women who participated. Howe (2007) writes that “From our standpoint in twenty-first century, the Transcendentalist who looks the most “modern” is Margaret Fuller. Versatile and passionate, she made her impact felt on journalism, feminism, criticism (literary, music, and art) and revolution.” (p. 621) I would add education as well to this list. Bronson Alcott Bronson Alcott was interested in education throughout his life. He founded the Temple School in Boston where he engaged the students in discussions and inquiry that differed radically from the recitation and drill approach so common in most schools at that time. Alcott believed children held an inner wisdom that could be drawn out through 7 Socratic questioning. Elizabeth Peabody Like Bronson Alcott, Elizabeth Peabody devoted her life to education. Bruce Ronda (1999) in his biography of Peabody states that “education was her great calling and her grand passion.” (p.7) She taught in several schools and helped Alcott in the Temple School, which she wrote about in Record of a School. Her crowning achievement was being an advocate for kindergarten. Influenced by the work of Freidrich Froebel, Peabody argued that emphasis in kindergarten should be on play rather than academic work United States. She also developed vision of bilingual education with her work with native Americans. Gruenewald (2002) in an article on “Teaching and Learning with Thoreau” writes: I believe that the troubled profession of teaching could benefit greatly from taking seriously the kind of dissent, experimentation, and holistic living-in-place that Thoreau’s legacy embodies. We may need him today more than ever before. So let us consider the ways in which we spend our lives, and let that reflection shape the kind of education we make possible for ourselves, and our students. (p.539) I would argue that not just Thoreau but the Transcendentalists discussed in this paper deserve a more detailed exploration of their views on education. In our day of factory-like models of schooling and it would be wise to reflect and re-imagine education 8 from their ideas. This could help us today develop a broader view of education that focuses on the development of whole human beings that can think, feel and act. REFERENCES Buell, L. (2006). “Introduction” in The American transcendentalists: Essential writings. L. Buell, (ed.) New York: Penguin. pp. xi-xxiii. Emerson, R. (1966). Emerson on education: Selections. H.M. Jones (Ed.) New York: Teachers College Press. Emerson, R.W. (2003) Selected writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York: Signet Gruenewald, D.A. (2002). Teaching and learning with Thoreau, The Harvard Educational Review. 72, 515-539. Hawken, P. (2007). Blessed Unrest: How the largest movement in the world came into 9 being and why non one saw it coming. New York: Viking. Howe, D.W. (2007). What hath God wrought: The transformation of America, 1815- 1848. New York: Oxford. McAleer, J.J. (1984). Ralph Waldo Emerson: Days of Encounter. Boston: Little, Brown. Ronda, B. A. (1999) Elizabeth Palmer Peabody: A reformer on her own terms. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Thoreau, H. D. (2002) The essays of Henry D. Thoreau. L. Hyde (Ed.) New York: North Point Press. 10 
work_pifug7rfwjdjxe76dusvgc4rbm	----	Stanley Cavell su Emerson e la redenzione del linguaggio dalla filosofia Agnese MAriA FortunA The issue of skepticism emerges in Experience of Ralph Waldo Emerson. In Finding as Founding Stanley Cavell reads the Emer- son’s essay as a contribute to the idealistic debate attempting to recuperate the Kant’s ‘thing in itself’. Placing that question in the ordinary space of the everyday life makes Emerson a precursor of Austin’s and Wittgenstein’s attacks particularly to philosophy and skepticism. The possibility to redeem our linguistic praxis and to gain some intimacy between language and world rises through a conversion of our position in the world. However, this strategy of self-redeeming seems to lack of a warranty: the issue of skepticism still shows all its tragic relevance. Keywords: Cavell, Emerson, Skepticism 1. Redimere il linguaggio dalla filosofia Emerson figura, insieme a Thoreau, Hawthorne, Melville e Whitman, tra i protagonisti di quel periodo di maturazione culturale e artistica, tra il 1850 e il 1855, che è stato detto ‘Rinascimento americano’1. Formatosi come teologo unitariano, Emerson fu fecondo conferenziere e saggista, artefice, insieme a Thoreau, la Fuller, Alcott, Channing, la Peabody e altri, di quel movimento trascendentalista che catalizzò le energie vitali 1 Se parlare della metà dell’Ottocento americano «come di una rinascita potrebbe sembrare non del tutto esatto, […] furono quegli stessi scrittori a considerarla tale: non come una rinascita di valori che fossero una volta esistiti in America, ma come il modo proprio dell’America di produrre un rinascimento giungendo per la prima volta a ma- turità e rivendicando i suoi diritti di eredità nell’intero campo dell’arte e della cultura»: O. Matthiessen, American Renaissance, Oxford University Press, New York 1941; trad. it.: Rinascimento Americano. Arte ed espressione nell’età di Emerson e di Whitman, Mondadori, Milano 1961, p. 25. Annali del Dipartimento di Filosofia (Nuova Serie), XIV (2008), pp. 153-177 ISSN 1824-3770 (online) © 2008 Firenze University Press 154 Agnese Maria Fortuna di una generazione di intellettuali e utopisti americani2. Secondo Stanley Cavell l’opera di Ralph Waldo Emerson, non soltanto è una delle fonti della cultura americana ma ne costituisce la prima genuina espressione filosofica. Il valore filosofico di Emerson non traspare a suo parere tanto da opere come Nature o The Over-Soul, espressioni di quella sorta di ripresa ‘neo-neoplatonica’ che rappresentò la reazione romantica al precedente clima illuministico ed empiristico e che dette forma al trascendentalismo per il quale Emerson è noto, ma esso si rivelerebbe piuttosto a partire dal saggio Experience, dove sembra precorrere il pensiero dell’ultimo Heidegger (il riferimento è in particolare a Che cosa significa pensare?) e quello del Wittgenstein delle Ricerche filosofiche3. Emerson, ha affermato Cavell, sarebbe stato un antesignano della filosofia del linguaggio ordinario, interrogandosi sulla possibilità stessa del linguaggio e del pensiero. Il tema della problematica ricerca dei fondamenti dell’identità americana che attraversa Experience, si connette alla ricerca dei fondamenti della nostra attività conoscitiva. Questione che è affrontata da Emerson a partire dalla considerazione della posizione dell’uomo nel mondo, alle prese con la tentazione scettica 2 Ralph Waldo Emerson, (1803-1882), figlio di un pastore unitariano, compiuti gli studi ad Harvard s’impegnò dal 1826 fino al 1832 nell’ufficio ecclesiastico prima come predicatore e poi come ministro del culto della Second Church di Boston. La sua carriera ecclesiastica s’interruppe a seguito di una profonda crisi interiore. Negli anni successivi si dedicò a quella fecondissima attività di conferenziere e di saggista che ne consoliderà la fama, elaborando e divulgando il proprio pensiero senza timore di assumere posizioni eterodosse rispetto alla tradizione unitariana. A questo proposito è particolarmente importante il discorso rivolto il 15 luglio del 1838 agli studenti di teologia di Harvard, The Divinity School Address che gli costò l’accusa di ateismo e l’interdizione dai pulpiti di Harvard per circa vent’anni. La posizione teologica di Emerson s’iscrive dunque nel filone della tradizione unitariana: il cristianesimo unitariano, contraddistinto fin dalle origini per il rifiuto della trinità e della cristologia tradizionale, si era diffuso in America nella seconda metà del XVIII secolo, e nelle sue fila erano confluiti sociniani e anabattisti. Assertori dell’assoluta unicità di Dio, gli unitariani negavano l’incarnazione e la divinità di Cristo, e l’idea della redenzione dal peccato originale: la Bibbia, considerata come su- prema e autorevole fonte della Rivelazione, era interpretata secondo criteri razionalistici; Gesù era ritenuto un uomo dotato di virtù “divine” e redentore non per la sua morte ma per il suo esempio e la sua parola. 3 R.W. Emerson, Experience, in The Collected Works of R.W. Emerson, III, Essays, Second Series, The Belknap Press of Harvard U.P., Cambridge Mass. 1972, trad. it., Esperienza, in Saggi, Boringhieri, Torino 1962; Id., Nature, in The Collected Works of R. W. Emerson, I, Nature. Addresses and Lectures, The Belknap Press of Harvard U. P., Cambridge Mass. 1968, trad. it., Natura, in Teologia e natura, a cura di P.C. Bori, Marietti, Genova 1991, pp. 7-64. Si vedano M. Heidegger, Was heisst Denken?, Niemeyer, Tü- bingen 1971, trad. it. Che cosa significa pensare?, Sugar, Milano 1978, e L. Wittgenstein, Philosophische Untersuchungen, Blackwell, Oxford 1953, trad. it. Ricerche filosofiche, Einaudi, Torino 1995. 155Stanley Cavell su Emerson di negare consistenza autonoma alla realtà esterna riconosciuta come sostanzialmente inattingibile. Experience, pubblicato nell’ottobre del 1844 in Essays, Second Series, segna dunque secondo Cavell un passo avanti nella riflessione emerso- niana. Nature dunque non sarebbe l’espressione eminente della voce filosofica di Emerson, ma piuttosto «il luogo dal quale, nei molti anni a seguire, questa voce si diparte, in The American Scholar, The Divinity School Address e Self-Reliance»4. La differenza tra le due opere starebbe nel fatto che Emerson in Nature «considera il problema dello scetticismo come risolvibile o controllabile, mentre da allora in poi considera la sua irrisolvibilità come posta al cuore del suo pensiero»5. L’incertezza sulla consistenza effettiva di ogni nostra conoscenza e lo stato di disagevole separatezza e solitudine in cui l’uomo si scopre, inducono Emerson a tentare di ricomprendere le nostre interazioni con il mondo in termini diversi da quelli dell’impresa conoscitiva tradizional- mente intesa. Ciò fa del pensiero di Emerson un contributo al dibattito idealista che cerca di recuperare la cosa in sé di Kant sollevando ancora la questione della possibilità dell’intuizione intellettuale. Cavell osserva che e che un’analoga richiesta viene espressa da Heidegger in Che cosa significa pensare? attraverso l’invito a muovere il «fatidico passo indietro dal ‘pensiero rappresentativo’»6. D’altra parte, anche le Ricerche filoso- fiche di Wittgenstein e la pratica di Austin possono essere considerate «come eredi del compito della logica trascendentale di Kant, vale a dire quello di dimostrare o articolare la concordanza a priori delle categorie della comprensione umana con gli oggetti della comprensione umana, ovvero con gli oggetti»7. Mandato compiutamente assolto già da Emerson e da Thoreau, che per primi ne hanno individuato l’orizzonte adeguato nell’ordinario, appuntando l’attenzione sulla fallacia delle prassi lingui- stiche consuetudinarie. 4 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding. Taking Steps in Emerson’s “Experience”, in Emerson’s Trascendental Etudes, Stanford University Press, Stanford 2003, p. 112 (già pubblicato in Id., This New Yet Unapproachable America. Lectures after Emerson after Wittgenstein, University of Chicago Press, Chicago 1989). 5 Ibid. E ancora: «Nel finale di Nature siamo condotti a considerare “che allora il mondo esiste per te”, e l’immagine della “barca di Colombo che avvicina le coste dell’America” ci insegna che l’universo è proprietà di ogni individuo in esso, e che risplende per noi. Mentre attraverso la chiusa di Experience noi impariamo che “la vera storia (romance) che il mondo esiste per realizzare sarà la trasformazione del genio in potere pratico”, ovvero che il mondo esiste per le proprie ragioni, e una nuova America è detta essere inavvicinabile». 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 156 Agnese Maria Fortuna Gli attacchi di Austin e Wittgenstein alla filosofia, e allo scetticismo in particolare – nell’appellarsi a ciò che loro chiamano l’uso ordinario o comune delle parole – contavano su una qualche intimità tra linguaggio e mondo della quale non sono mai stati capaci di dar conto in maniera soddisfacente. È in Emerson e Thoreau che mi è sembrato di trovare quello che potrei riconoscere come questo spazio di ricerca, nel loro elaborare la problematica del giorno, di ogni giorno, del prossimo, del basso, del comune, in connessione con quello che loro chiamano parlare delle necessità e parlare con necessità8. L’indagine sulla conoscenza diventa indagine sul linguaggio e sulle condizioni che rendono possibile il linguaggio come espressione, sensata e articolata, in grado di rispondere di un mondo che insieme ci costituisce e che costituiamo in relazione alla realtà. Il linguaggio che si stabilisce come consuetudine acquisita per deri- vazione all’interno di prassi consuetudinarie non è però in grado di inter- rogarsi sulle proprie condizioni di possibilità, dato che la consuetudine è costruita come prassi assunta acriticamente a partire da credenze indotte, la forza persuasiva delle quali sta nell’essere condivise dalla società di cui siamo parte, che fin dall’inizio richiede la conformità come condizione della partecipazione. È un linguaggio vincolato all’idea di rappresentazio- ne, dove l’oggetto rappresentato è il prodotto di una riduzione acritica ma perfetta all’interno del circoscritto universo di senso di una data società; un linguaggio che pretende di catturare la realtà, di impadronirsene, senza avvertire quanto essa sia sostanzialmente elusiva. Perché un tale linguaggio possa recuperare il proprio genuino po- tere significante, raggiungere o tentare di raggiungere i limiti delle cose, tornare a essere quotidiano senza essere abitudinario, è necessaria una conversione, a un tempo dell’uomo e del linguaggio9. Emerson è, credo, in genere considerato giocare nei suoi scritti spesso e volentieri con qualcosa come la contraddizione; ma io sto parlando di un 8 Ivi, p. 113. 9 Vedi M. Heidegger, Che cosa significa pensare?, cit.: «Al posto del linguaggio abitato in modo appropriato e delle parole che ad esso sono familiari subentrano parole abituali. Questo parlare abituale diventa quello corrente. Lo si incontra dappertutto e lo si considera anche, in quanto comune a tutti e a tutto, come l’unico che dia una nor- ma. Allora ciò che esce dall’abituale per abitare in quello che già una volta fu il parlare appropriato del linguaggio viene immediatamente preso per un’infrazione alla norma. Esso viene stigmatizzato come un arbitrio, come un facile gioco» (p. 151). E ancora: «parlare il linguaggio è qualcosa di completamente diverso che utilizzare un linguaggio. Il parlare abituale si limita a utilizzare il linguaggio. La sua caratteristica abituale consiste proprio in questo modo di rapportarsi al linguaggio. Ma poiché il pensiero e, in modo differente, la poesia non utilizzano dei termini (Wörter), ma dicono parole (Worte), noi siamo tenuti per questo stesso fatto, non appena ci poniamo sul cammino del pensiero, a prestare esplicita attenzione al dire della parola» (p. 157). 157Stanley Cavell su Emerson senso in cui contraddizione, che si oppone a dizione (diction), è la genesi dei suoi scritti di filosofia. ‘Avversione’ (aversion) è una delle parole ‘emersoniane’ di Emerson per ciò che si contrappone. È approssimativamente la sua parola per ciò che gli altri chiamano ‘conversione’. ‘Dettato/dettame’ (dictation) è il gergo emersoniano per ciò cui egli si contrappone: un’altra delle sue parole per questo è ‘conformità’. Un sintetico squarcio sulla genesi dei suoi scritti è, in Self- Reliance, «ogni parola che loro dicono ci dispiace». La visione di ogni parola nel nostro – nell’umano – linguaggio come richiedente attenzione, come se il linguaggio come tale fosse caduto, o potesse aspirare a uno stato più alto, uno stato, diciamo, nel quale il mondo è più perfettamente espresso, è qualcosa che io assumo abbia di per sé una storia complessa. In Emerson e Thoreau la visione è essenziale alla loro concezione che il mondo come un intero richieda attenzione, ovvero redenzione, che esso giaccia caduto, morto; è, così, essenziale a ciò che chiamiamo il loro romanticismo. La differenza tra Emerson e gli altri profeti o saggi del diciannovesimo secolo (come Matthew Arnold, Schopenhauer, Kier- kegaard), e la sua affinità con Austin e Wittgenstein (a differenza di altri filosofi analitici, la cui sfiducia nel linguaggio umano va insieme con la visione non di una ri-inabitazione ma di una sostituzione dell’ordinario) è il suo riconoscimento del potere delle parole ordinarie – come era la loro richiesta – di essere redente, di redimere se stesse, e in maniera caratteristica di richiedere redenzione dalla (e dunque per mezzo della) filosofia. Emerson dirà o mostrerà che le parole domandano conversione o trasfigurazione o riaffezione, dove Wittgenstein dirà che devono essere ricondotte a casa, come da un esilio10. ‘Contraddizione’, ‘avversione’, ‘conversione’ sembrano definire esattamente le tappe di un itinerario filosofico di redenzione del nostro uso del linguaggio. L’appello non è dunque a riscoprire nelle cose una capacità di significazione che si trasmette ‘magicamente’ alle parole, ma è appello all’assunzione di una nuova posizione di contro e all’interno di un linguaggio, di una tradizione, attraverso la prassi filosofica, che è in sé presa di posizione11. L’uso del linguaggio non si redimerà da solo ma 10 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., pp. 113-114. Notevole la serie cavelliana di «conversione o trasfigurazione o riaffezione». La parola che attrae l’attenzione è tra- sfigurazione (attraction non è una proprietà soltanto dell’uomo o delle cose: su questa assunzione implicita si basa la plausibilità – e condizione di possibilità – della prassi cavelliana del fare attenzione agli armonici, o risonanze, di un concetto, di una ‘figura’, di un’espressione linguistica, di un’assunzione di posizione). E trasfigurazione, nei termini neotestamentari, indica rivelazione della divinità. Perciò conversione è uguale a rivelazione della propria divinità (o coerenza con se stessi). E questo dovrebbe equivalere a riaffezione. Riaffezione al quotidiano, si direbbe, dato l’insieme del quadro di pensiero di Cavell. Riaffezione alla propria limitatezza, a stare a quanto Cavell induce a ritenere nella sua analisi di Experience (riaffezione presuppone disaffezione: delusione rispetto a certe promesse). 11 In verità, se dobbiamo evitare di ricadere nell’atteggiamento romantico (come la chiusa sul tornare a farsi domande romantiche di Finding as Founding sembra volerci 158 Agnese Maria Fortuna chiede di essere redento, e lo richiede attraverso la richiesta di attenzione, cioè di ciò che il linguaggio sembra non dire più. Non è un caso che questo itinerario ricalchi, per molti versi, l’esperienza dei profeti dell’Antico Testamento, che altro non sono per investitura divina che voci: voci di contraddizione, di denuncia, di appello. Voci impopolari, destinate a gridare nel deserto, che dall’in- terno di una tradizione denudano loro malgrado la malattia sociale e individuale accelerandone la crisi12. Una malattia di errata posizione: nei termini biblici la giustizia è infatti espressione della conversione, ovvero dell’assunzione della retta posizione, dal volgere le spalle a Dio allo stare e agire al suo cospetto. 2. La perdita delle radici: l’impresa di senso come elaborazione del lutto La filosofia americana s’innesta, criticamente ma direttamente, nella tradizione filosofica europea. Ma se Emerson è il primo vero esponente della filosofia americana, questo innesto è dolente, improntato, in maniera quasi ossessiva come vedremo, sul registro del cordoglio e della perdita: il termine grief sembra la cifra chiave13. I travagli (si tratta infatti di un parto, a stare a una possibile lettura di Experience) dell’identità americana sembrano aver offerto al problema kantiano il sostrato ideale per farne risaltare, in tutta la loro portata, le quanto meno inquietanti conseguenze. La separatezza e la solitudine a cui l’uomo si scopre destinato nella sua impresa di attingere la realtà, acquistano connotati tragici sullo sfondo di un’identità, come quella americana, che si è costituita per successive separazioni. Impresa conoscitiva e storia vissuta ed ereditata s’intrecciano indissolubilmente: l’esperienza della perdita delle radici, di un sicuro e aproblematico ancoraggio nel mondo e nella storia, segna in maniera irreversibile l’autocoscienza individuale. L’apparire del nuovo mondo è il frutto della perdita del vecchio: una perdita premeditata e perseguita, e perciò sempre a rischio di ingenerare un senso di colpa. dire – vedi ivi, p. 137) si tratterebbe infine di smettere di pensare che il linguaggio, al di là dell’abuso che ne facciamo, abbia di per sé bisogno di redenzione; in altre parole, smettere di pensare che la capacità e le potenzialità espressive del linguaggio aspettino noi per essere redente. E dunque, la conversione necessaria starebbe nel considerare il linguaggio come di per sé perfettamente in grado di esprimere – per quanto è dato, ovvero con approssimazione – la realtà. 12 Vedi Vangelo di Giovanni, 1,23. Vedi anche Isaia, 40, 3. 13 Vale qui quello che nota Iosif Brodskij a proposito dell’occorrenza della parola ‘grief’ in September I, 1939 di W.H. Auden: «il monosillabo ‘grief’ [...] viene dritto dalla Bibbia di re Giacomo e mostra la vera direzione in cui è avviato il nostro uomo» (Su “1 settembre 1939” di W.H. Auden, in Il canto del pendolo, Adelphi, Milano 1987, p. 148). 159Stanley Cavell su Emerson L’impresa filosofica assume i tratti di un’elaborazione del lutto. Un’elaborazione per il riacquisto del mondo nella quale rimane però iscrit- ta la sua perdita, come un dato metabolizzabile forse, ma insormontabile di fatto. Il mondo rinvenuto è rinvenuto come perso, almeno secondo le aspettative: un’alba tragica, di fronte alla quale l’uomo può soltanto ripiegare in strategie di autorassicurazione. E la bellezza del mondo, di questo mondo, non potrà che alimentarsi, fino a estinguerlo, del dolore che l’ha generata. Poi viene la dimenticanza, dice Emerson. E viene Ate, dal calcagno gentile: Quale oppio viene instillato in ogni disastro! Ci sembra terribile quando ci avviciniamo ad esso, e invece alla fine non troviamo nessuna frizione aspra e lacerante, ma la più liscia e la più levigata delle superfici. Noi cadiamo dol- cemente in un pensiero: Ate dea è gentile: «Essa cammina sopra le teste degli uomini / calpestandole dolcemente con i suoi teneri piedi». La gente si lamenta e compiange se stessa, ma non c’è una metà di vero in quello che essi dicono di se stessi. Vi sono degli stati d’animo in cui noi corteggiamo la sofferenza, nella speranza che alla fine noi troveremo qui la realtà, le cime taglienti e le lame della verità. Ma essa si cambia in scenario e impostura. La sola cosa che il dolore mi ha insegnato è il sapere come assimilarlo14. 3. La morte del figlio all’origine di Experience Dove ci troviamo? In una serie di cui non conosciamo gli estremi e che crediamo non ne abbia alcuno. Ci svegliamo e ci troviamo su una scala; ci sono scalini sotto di noi che ci sembra di aver salito; ci sono scalini sopra di noi, più di uno, che vanno verso l’alto, fuori dalla nostra vista. Ma il genio che, secondo la vecchia credenza, sta sulla porta attraverso la quale noi entriamo e che ci dà il lete da bere, perché noi non possiamo poi raccontare delle favole (tales), ci preparò una mistura troppo forte, e ora, a mezzogiorno, noi non possiamo scuoterci dal nostro letargo15. Experience sembra ispirato dalla morte del primogenito di Emerson, anch’egli di nome Waldo, avvenuta dopo una breve malattia nel gen- naio del 1842, due anni prima della stesura del saggio. Quasi per inciso essa viene ricordata dopo alcuni ampi paragrafi all’inizio del saggio, un compianto per la condizione dell’uomo la cui capacità di percezione della realtà è offuscata da una sorta di letargico incantamento: «il sonno indugia per tutta la nostra vita intorno ai nostri occhi, come la notte si sofferma tutto il giorno tra i rami dell’abete. [...] Non è tanto la nostra vita ad essere minacciata, quanto la nostra percezione. Simili a fantasmi 14 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., pp. 296-297. 15 Ivi, pp. 294-295. 160 Agnese Maria Fortuna scivoliamo attraverso la natura, e non possiamo riconoscere il nostro posto»16. Un pensiero che suona come il commento di un sogno all’interno di un sogno17. Già prima, l’immagine che risponde alla domanda iniziale «dove troviamo noi stessi?» – noi, che «ci svegliamo e ci troviamo su una scala», con gradini sotto di noi che «ci sembra di aver salito» e gradini sopra di noi «che vanno verso l’alto, fuori dalla nostra vista» – sembra la registrazione di una visione onirica, come onirica del resto pare l’enigma- tica allegoria della poesia con cui si apre il saggio, dove il sogno compare come uno dei «signori della vita»18. Il compianto è espresso evocando uno stato di rêverie e di sospensio- ne, come se l’esperienza umana, compreso il risveglio, venisse scoperta iscritta tutta nella cifra del sogno («il sogno ci consegna al sogno, e non c’è fine all’illusione»19). Una cifra che parla di visione, di solitudine, di astrazione dalla realtà, ma anche di dimenticanza, di distanza, di ottun- dimento, rivelando dietro alla sincerità degli accenti, qualcosa di artifi- cioso, o quanto meno una sorta di strategia di assimilazione del dolore, il frutto di passate esperienze, di lutti pregressi che vengono ora rinnovati nel ricordo, e che espongono lo scrittore alla destabilizzante percezione dell’umana transitorietà: «ci troviamo in una serie di cui non conosciamo gli estremi e che crediamo non ne abbia alcuno»20. È meglio perciò per l’uomo non svegliarsi del tutto, ma rimanere in quella sorta di perplesso stupore, di attonito disorientamento, che accompagna lo stato intermedio tra la veglia e il sonno e che il saggio descrive21. Seppure appena accennato, tutto il saggio ruota attorno a questo lutto che deve ancora essere elaborato, se mai lo potrà essere. Come ha notato Sharon Cameron, in un articolo al quale Cavell ampiamente si riferisce, l’argomento dell’afflizione (grief) è centrale nel saggio emer- soniano: il vocabolario dell’afflizione, e i frequenti accenni a bambini, catalizzano l’attenzione del lettore su Waldo, di cui per altro non si parlerà più direttamente dopo le laconiche frasi cui si accennava, dove il dolore «gioca alla superficie e non introduce mai nella realtà. [...] Nella morte di mio figlio, ora è più di due anni, mi sembra di aver perduto una bella proprietà, non più. Io non posso avvicinarlo a me»22. E dunque, dopo, 16 Ivi, p. 295. 17 Ivi, p. 308: «la vita stessa è una chimera, è scetticismo, un sonno nel sonno». E ancora (p. 321): «la vita assume nei miei confronti un volto da visionario. […] È solo una scelta tra sogni dolci e sogni turbolenti». 18 Ivi, pp. 294-295. 19 Ivi, p. 298. 20 Ivi, p. 294. 21 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., p. 119. 22 R. W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 297. Il riferimento è a S. Cameron, Represent- 161Stanley Cavell su Emerson nel resto del saggio, che ne è di Waldo? Cosa gli succede? La risposta di Sharon Cameron è, in effetti, che nulla e tutto gli succede, cioè che egli non è dimenticato ma è l’elemento ge- neratore degli argomenti che seguono nel saggio, che è perciò un testamento alla sua perdita divorante, un’opera di compianto (mourning) per lui, che dà all’esperienza (sua?) come tale il carattere o la struttura dell’afflizione (grief)23. La simpatia di Cavell per la tesi della Cameron si arresta però, con un significativo segno di presa di distanza, di fronte al giudizio che essa dà a proposito di un carattere ‘non filosofico’ di Experience. In realtà, secondo Cavell, il lutto che si esprime in questo saggio emersoniano attraverso la figura del figlio morto è con tutta evidenza il riverbero accorato della percezione della perdita di presa del pensiero sulla realtà – la percezione frustrante dell’inabilità a pervenire a quella sintesi della realtà, a quella visione unitaria trionfalmente ed enfaticamente descritta già in Nature (pubblicato nel 1836) e in Circles (pubblicato nel 1841)24. Se Experience veramente riapre il caso di Kant contro l’intuizione intellettua- le, allora una parte di questo argomento, sebbene in apparenza non nominato, è precisamente la necessità della sintesi, del mettere insieme esperienze in un’unità nel conoscere un mondo di oggetti. Vediamo come ciò si rivela in uno stupefacente passaggio chiave di Experience: «Io considero questa evanescenza e lubricità di tutti gli oggetti, che li fa scivolare attraverso le nostre dita proprio quando noi li afferriamo più saldamente, come la parte più sgradevole della nostra condizione». Guardiamo prima alla connessione in ‘sgradevole’ (unhandsome) fra la mano (hand) e le dita che afferrano impotenti. Ciò che è sgradevole, penso, non è che gli oggetti, ai quali chiediamo attaccamento, siano per noi come in se stessi evanescenti e lubrici; la sgra- devolezza è piuttosto ciò che accade quando cerchiamo di negare la fredda distanza (stand-offishness) degli oggetti tentando di afferrarli, ovvero quando concepiamo il pensare, diciamo l’applicazione dei concetti nei giudizi, come afferrare qualcosa, ovvero sintetizzare. La relazione tra il pensare e la mano è enfatizzata in Che cosa significa pensare? di Heidegger, quando egli scrive «il pensiero è un manufatto», con cui suppongo egli intenda sia che pensare è un lavoro pratico (senza dubbio preindustriale) e fruttuoso che deve essere imparato, sia anche sottolineare che è un lavoro che soltanto la creatura con le mani può fare – e fare nella maniera più fatale come un modo della necessaria violenza di ogni giorno25. ing Grief: Emerson’s Experience, in «Representations» 15 (1986), pp. 15-41. 23 S. Cavell, Founding as Finding, cit., p. 116. 24 Vedi R.W. Emerson, Natura, cit., e Id., Circles, in The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. II, Essays. First Series (1841), AMS Press, New York 1968, trad. it., Cerchi, in Lo studioso americano e altri saggi, Graphis, Bari 2006, pp. 87-108. 25 S. Cavell, Founding as Finding, cit., pp. 116-117. 162 Agnese Maria Fortuna Ed è proprio la «fredda distanza degli oggetti» – degli ‘altri’, pos- siamo aggiungere ricordando la figura del figlio morto, perduto come «una bella proprietà» – a costituire quel passo in avanti della riflessione emersoniana che secondo Cavell Experience rappresenta. È infatti il presagio della separatezza a far riaffiorare lo spazio del mondo condivi- so. Il distacco e la perdita, rivelando l’inattingibilità, l’irraggiungibilità degli oggetti e degli altri (il «non posso avvicinarlo a me» di Emerson), ‘smagliano’ il tessuto unisostanziale della visione dove tutto non è che apparenza nel campo visivo del soggetto, poiché parlano di presenza e relazione in termini non riducibili a quelli di possesso e di accorpamento. Presenza e relazione che in Emerson secondo Cavell si declinano invece attraverso il concetto di attrazione (attraction): L’opposto di afferrare, che dovrebbe essere la parte più gradevole della nostra condizione, è, credo, la forma specificatamente umana della capacità di attrarre e di essere attratti (attractiveness) – essendo l’attrazione (attraction) un altro dei potenti termini emersoniani o ‘toni maestri’ (master-tone), che dà nome alla legittima richiesta che abbiamo l’uno nei confronti dell’altro, e che io e il mondo esercitiamo l’uno sull’altro (come in «ciò che attrae la mia attenzione l’avrà», da Spiritual Laws). Il termine di Heidegger per l’opposto di afferrare il mondo è quello di esser tratti alle cose. [...] Ora aggiungiamo all’affinità che riguarda la sgradevolezza e l’attrazione, l’idea del loro essere parte della nostra condizione, la nostra condizione umana, cioè, la condizione del nostro pensare, specificatamente, il nostro conoscere un mondo di oggetti, e l’affinità di Kant e di Emerson con il Wittgenstein delle Ricerche appare chiara26. Il rapporto tra Kant, Emerson, Heidegger e Wittgenstein riconduce al problema della capacità del linguaggio di «guadagnare i fenomeni»27. La 26 Ivi, p. 117. Vedi R.W. Emerson, Spiritual Laws, in The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, II, Riverside Press, Cambridge Mass. 1903-1904, trad. it., Leggi spirituali, in Diventa chi sei. Fiducia in se stessi, Compensazione, Leggi spirituali, Donzelli, Roma 2005, pp. 77-109. 27 «La sensazione che dobbiamo penetrare i fenomeni è evidentemente prodotta dalla sensazione di qualche impedimento al, o resistenza nel, fenomeno (come se le condi- zioni dell’apparire di qualcosa fossero limitazioni nell’avvicinarla; come se lo scetticismo avesse registrato accuratamente la ritirata del mondo da noi, il suo restringersi), come se il linguaggio avesse difficoltà a guadagnare i fenomeni, lasciato solo ad afferrarli. Allora tutte le nostre parole sono parole di afflizione (grief), e dunque di rammarico e di violenza, che contano le perdite, specialmente quando chiediamo loro di afferrare questi oggetti persi, sfuggenti, dimenticando o negando il legittimo richiamo della nostra attrattività (attraction), la nostra capacità di ricevere il mondo, bloccando (sealing off) invece il ritorno del mondo, come se ci stessimo punendo per il fatto di provare dolore. La caratteristica che sto cercando di collocare intuitivamente nell’intersezione del pensiero di Kant, di Emerson e di Wittgenstein giace, potrei dire, non nella loro deviazione scettica, ma nel loro rispetto per lo scetticismo, come di una posizione degna; penso a questo come al 163Stanley Cavell su Emerson nostra attività conoscitiva ci mette perfettamente in grado di impadronirci delle cose: ‘al loro posto’ negli edifici che essa costruisce, le cose restano oggetti alla mano, ciascuna definita in base a protocolli di funzione, e di cui possiamo far uso o abuso quanto e quando ci occorre. Come scrive Emer- son, «l’universo assume i nostri colori […]. Il soggetto esiste, il soggetto si espande; tutte le cose, presto o tardi vanno (fall) al loro posto»28. Ciò implica necessariamente un restringimento del mondo, una sua riduzione nei limiti del nostro campo visivo: la realtà è docile, ma una volta che la si sia addomesticata non è più, semplicemente, la realtà, piuttosto un prodotto culturale, un artefatto29. Qualcosa che crea disagio nel mentre ci mette a nostro agio, perché in essa avvertiamo qualcosa che resiste. Con il linguaggio pretendiamo di afferrare gli oggetti, ma strin- giamo poco più che fantasmi, o prodotti della nostra fantasia, oggetti plasmati funzionalmente, al di là delle fattezze dei quali qualcosa resta muto e parlante al tempo stesso, perché si esprime in una lingua di cui il linguaggio può soltanto misurare i confini. Per dirla con Emerson, «un mare innavigabile si estende con le sue onde silenziose fra noi e le cose alle quali tendiamo e con le quali conversiamo»30. D’altra parte, quest’avamposto sulle rive della realtà è stato dolorosa- mente guadagnato: «è molto triste, ma troppo tardi per essere evitata, la scoperta che abbiamo fatta di esistere. Questa scoperta è chiamata la caduta (fall) dell’uomo. Da questo momento noi diffidiamo sempre dei nostri mezzi». In effetti non c’è niente di più facile per l’uomo che dimenticare di essere vincolato al proprio punto di vista: «la gente dimentica che è l’occhio che crea l’orizzonte». E non c’è nulla, secondo Emerson, che possa defini- tivamente assicurarci che quel qualcosa esista veramente poiché «tra il me e ogni te ci sarà sempre lo stesso abisso che c’è tra l’originale e il quadro»: in questo si traduce «l’ineguaglianza tra ogni soggetto e ogni oggetto»31. Abbiamo imparato che noi vediamo non direttamente, ma mediatamente; e che non abbiamo nessun mezzo per correggere queste lenti distorte e colorate loro riconoscimento non dell’incertezza o fallimento della nostra conoscenza, ma del nostro disappunto per il suo successo» (S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., p. 118). Cavell sta commentando un passo di Wittgenstein (Ricerche filosofiche, §60). Si veda L. Wittgenstein, Ricerche filosofiche, Einaudi, Torino 1995, p. 60. 28 R. W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 318. 29 Tra l’altro, come efficacemente nota Emerson, il nostro campo visivo non è sta- bile, almeno nel senso che offre un panorama mutevole: «la vita è un susseguirsi di stati d’animo, come un filo di perle, e quando noi passiamo attraverso di essi, si dimostrano essere delle lenti colorate che dipingono il mondo con le loro tinte, e ciascuno di essi ci mostra solo quello che è contenuto nel suo raggio focale» (Ivi, p. 298). 30 Ivi, p. 297. 31 Ivi, pp. 315-316. 164 Agnese Maria Fortuna che noi siamo, o anche di contare la somma dei loro errori. Forse queste lenti- soggetti hanno un potere creativo; forse non vi sono degli oggetti. Una volta noi vivevamo in ciò che vedevamo; ora, la rapacità di questo nuovo potere, che minaccia di assorbire tutte le cose, ci trattiene. Natura, arte, persone, lettere, religioni, oggetti cadono (fall) successivamente sotto di esso, e Dio è solo una delle sue idee. [...] Ogni cosa, buona o cattiva che sia, è un’ombra che noi proiettiamo. La strada è piena di umiliazioni per l’orgoglio32. A darci sicurezza dell’esistenza della cosa non resta che la sua inattesa, indesiderata, paventata scomparsa. 4. Trovare e fondare: il figlio fondatore Il saggio di Emerson si apre con la domanda: «dove troviamo noi stessi?». Una domanda che non soltanto esprime il nostro disorientamento ma che ne suscita altre: Chi, in quali strettezze, pone una tale domanda? Riguardo a chi? E la domanda deve essere posta nello stato d’animo perplesso, disorientato che il saggio descrive. Prima dell’inizio del saggio, la poesia introduttiva parla di quelli che sono chiamati «i signori della vita» – qualcosa come categorie a priori della vita umana, quelle di Uso/consuetudine (Use), Sorpresa (Surprise), Superficie (Surface), Sogno (Dream), Successione (Succession), Errore/ingiustizia (Wrong), Temperamento (Temperament) – e esplicitamente di un bambino con uno sguar- do sconcertato, che cammina «tra le gambe dei suoi alti guardiani» (presumi- bilmente questi signori), che Natura prende per mano e a cui Natura sussurra «Caro, non ti preoccupare… Tu sei il fondatore; questi sono la tua razza!» (È un bambino? È chiamato «piccolo uomo». È da identificarsi anche con quello descritto, con i signori della vita, come «l’inventore del gioco, / l’Onnipresente senza nome»? Questa condizione o predicato composto – onnipresente senza nome – potrebbe essere di Waldo nel saggio). Prima della domanda iniziale sul trovare (finding) noi stessi, siamo dunque avvertiti che la mente dello scrittore è sul fondare (founding). Così mentre il saggio è sull’afflizione (grief) e sull’ad- dolorarsi (mournig) o sull’’incorporazione’ come esemplificabile, per così dire, dalla morte di un figlio piccolo, fin dall’inizio questa circostanza, se fonte di perplessità, deve essere considerata nell’ottica del saggio come un’opera, o richiesta, di fondamento. Fondare cosa?33 Ciò che deve essere trovato o stabilito è secondo Cavell una relazione (di Emerson e in Emerson) alla filosofia34. Detto in altre parole, si tratte- 32 Ivi, p. 315. 33 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., p. 119. 34 «Se è così, noi già sappiamo che una causa di perplessità è la conseguente necessità di stabilire, o riconcepire, di quale fondazione si tratti, che fondazione filosofica sia (o fornire 165Stanley Cavell su Emerson rebbe di stabilire che genere di fondamento ci viene offerto attraverso il considerare filosoficamente la domanda, attraverso il ritenere che non si tratti tanto di trovare una ‘risposta’ ma di trovare noi stessi come posti in un dato modo in un dato luogo, nel mondo e alle prese con la realtà con l’ausilio di un genere particolare di categorie (i ‘signori della vita’), le quali piuttosto che di schemi concettuali parlano di attitudini. Si tratta insomma di trovarsi, sotto o attraverso le sembianze ancora misteriose del bambino, quali fondatori di noi stessi. Le domande, però, non sono finite: «il bambino della poesia è Waldo? Che cos’è un bambino, o un Waldo, il fondatore?»35. E «perché Waldo non è mai nominato nel saggio ma semplicemente descritto come “mio figlio”? […] Perché poi il figlio è evocato? In che modo gli argomenti del saggio lo generano? Perché ci sono così tanti bambini nel saggio? A che proposito? Riguardo a quale argomento? Quali sono gli argomenti di un saggio di Emerson?». Tutte domande che, nell’intento di Cavell, dovrebbero confluire nella questione del «perché un saggio costituito attraverso la ricerca dei propri argomenti, come se fosse in cerca di una ragione per questi, diviene un tramite per la filosofia, o per qualcosa il più vicino possibile alla filosofia»36. Assumendo [...] che la domanda «dove troviamo noi stessi?» sia una do- manda di uno che si è perduto, o alle prese con una perdita, e fatta mentre è confuso, come tra stati, o livelli, eppure padrone di sé abbastanza da porre una domanda o perplessità, prendiamo due affermazioni iniziali del saggio come risposte esplicite che lo scrittore dà rispetto al luogo, rispetto a dove possa egli essere scoperto (discovered), e rispetto a ciò che egli ha trovato: «È molto triste, ma troppo tardi perché ci si possa mettere rimedio, la scoperta che abbiamo fatto che noi esistiamo. Questa scoperta è chiamata la Caduta dell’Uomo». E due paragrafi prima: «Sono pronto a morire fuori dalla natura e nascere ancora in questa nuova ancora inavvicinabile America che ho trovato nell’ovest». Dal momento che sia Milton che Colombo appaiono tra le molte sequenze di nomi elencate nel saggio, vorrei prendere come indiscutibile che l’espulsione dall’Eden sia qualcosa che viene evocato come un luogo perduto, e che da quel momento l’esistere nel mondo sia avvertito (is discovered) come l’essere gettati per una perdita; e come altrettanto indiscutibile che il trovare una nuova America nel- l’ovest mentre, o perché, si è persi, sia avvertito come il ricordare o il ripetere una base: i cammini sui quali siamo non debbono forse cominciare o finire da qualche parte?), e specificatamente cosa significhi intuire il fondamento in un bambino (è, come si potrebbe immaginare, un trovatello [foundling]?) e in un’idea di trovare se stessi» (Ibid.). 35 «Il nome Waldo entra presto nella famiglia Emerson ed è mantenuto per com- memorare il fondatore della setta dissidente dei valdesi, un fatto importante per il nostro scrittore. Quale significato possa avere avuto questo nel muovere Thoreau, due anni dopo la pubblicazione dei saggi di Emerson, a trovare Walden, non so indovinare» (Ibid.). 36 Ivi, pp. 119-120. 166 Agnese Maria Fortuna qualcosa che Colombo ha fatto, ripeterlo in maniera diversa che in Nature. (È concepibile che noi siamo tutti trovatelli?). [...] Potrebbe essere qui la maniera di Emerson di dire che è la nostra infelicità, o sofferenza non necessaria, che noi chiamiamo la Caduta dell’Uomo. Potremmo chiamare l’evento del conoscere che esistiamo in qualche altro modo. [...] Se avete a cuore l’affascinante testo di Kant Inizio congetturale della storia umana, potreste trovarvi a parlare dell’evento – la scoperta del genere umano come non a casa in natura – come il Sorgere dell’Uomo. Allora diventa però una domanda aperta perché siamo cronicamente o costituzionalmente infelici, estremamente sofferenti37. ‘Trovarsi’ e ‘fondatore’: l’apertura del saggio di Emerson (dalla poesia alla domanda iniziale) insiste dunque su queste due parole che evocano il tema del dislocamento e l’idea di un processo o di un’esperienza in cui Emerson come il lettore sono implicati (la domanda si riferisce a un ‘noi’). In realtà, il riferimento all’America, che ricorre in vari modi nel saggio, anche e non a caso attraverso la figura di Colombo, sembra circoscrivere l’ambito dei lettori fino a includervi soltanto coloro che possono in effetti porsi domande sul dove si trovano e quale rapporto hanno col fondatore sullo sfondo del nuovo mondo. È l’occupare questa peculiare posizione che solleva in modo pertinente la questione: il che non implica necessariamente che la questione non riguardi tutti, perché appunto, assumendo il punto di vista di Kant e congetturando sull’inizio della storia umana, l’aver a che fare con un mondo nuovo appare come l’esperienza originaria del genere umano nella storia. A parte la maggiore o minore plausibilità che siamo disposti a con- cedere a questa prospettiva emersoniana, qui l’importante è annotare dove Cavell pone l’enfasi. Si tratta, nella lettura di Cavell, sempre di un trovarsi, ovunque si sia, in un mondo, avvertendo che questo fatto registra la perdita di un mondo precedente. È un trovarsi che è uno scoprire a un tempo il nuovo mondo (e la sua inavvicinabilità) e noi stessi in esso, ma noi come posti «in una serie di cui non conosciamo gli estremi e che crediamo non ne abbia alcuno». Perciò siamo in un luogo scomodo, nel quale non è possibile sentirsi facilmente e felicemente ‘a casa’: in cui siamo entrati attraverso la perdita di un mondo originario che doveva avere le caratteristiche dell’Eden, cioè di quel mondo per abitare il quale noi eravamo stati creati e che abbiamo abbandonato avendo preferito assumere una posizione errata (questo, in fondo, è almeno uno dei sensi del peccato dei progenitori). Così è iniziato il tempo storico, quello della successione delle generazioni; e a questo evento si connette il dato di un’infelicità, di una «sofferenza non necessaria»38. 37 Ivi, p. 120. 38 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit.. p. 294. Per il rimando ad un mondo ‘ideale’ già 167Stanley Cavell su Emerson La sofferenza, come abbiamo visto, nel testo di Emerson è espres- sione dello stato d’animo che si accompagna alla coscienza di essere comunque vincolati a un punto di vista, senza alcuna sicurezza circa l’esistenza delle cose, alle quali ci rapportiamo soltanto attraverso il loro apparire e il loro trascorrere. Come può essere questa una sofferenza non necessaria, se non è possibile per noi abbandonare il punto di vista né fermare il corso del tempo? E che senso può avere mai scoprire e scoprirsi in un nuovo mondo che ci appare, al di là della sua scoperta, paradossalmente inavvicinabile? Perché questa nuova America è detta essere inavvicinabile? Ci sono molte possibilità, di cui tre ovvie: primo, è inavvicinabile se lui (o chiunque sia qui pertinente) sia già lì (già da sempre), ma incapace di farne esperienza, quindi di saperlo o di dirlo, o incapace di dirlo, quindi di farne esperienza. Secondo, il trovare una nazione non lo si ottiene semplicemente con il fatto di aver avvistato la terraferma: un paese deve essere popolato, e ‘nazione’ parla di nascita. Non c’è nazione se c’è soltanto un abitante. L’affermazione di Emerson parla di es- sere nati di nuovo, fuori dalla natura e dentro la sua scoperta; e ‘nato di nuovo’ implica che c’è (o c’era) un altro, uno dal quale si è nati. Due sono abbastanza? Terzo, questa nuova America è inavvicinabile con un processo di continuità, se trovarla è davvero (essere pronti a) nascere ancora, ovvero, tollerare conver- sione; conversione è volgersi, essere girati in senso inverso; e ciò sembra essere una faccenda di discontinuità. Avversione (aversion) è il nome che Emerson dà al suo scrivere in Self-Reliance – o il nome che egli dà alla fiducia in se stessi in relazione alla conformità39. Tutte e tre le possibilità, per quanto ‘ovvie’, sono gravide di impli- cazioni e di conseguenze. Nella prima è adombrato il dilemma, per certi versi fuorviante, della precedenza tra visione (ma qui è esperienza), linguaggio e conoscenza, oltre all’idea che sia possibile trovarsi in un luogo senza farne esperienza, ovvero che l’esperienza – qui percezione della nostra inerenza a un dato mondo – sia sempre qualcosa di secondario, come del resto il linguaggio e la conoscenza, rispetto alla situazione che ci troviamo a vivere, qualcosa che ci chiama in causa come attori/interpreti e che implica, almeno in una certa misura, un’attività di costruzione ermeneutica funzionale. Nella seconda possibilità si pone la questione dell’‘a partire da quan- do’ una nazione è una nazione, che sembra risolta facendo coincidere l’‘a partire da quando’ con l’‘a partire da quanti’. Più che da quanti ne fanno parte, da quanti sono implicati nella sua ‘nascita’: la nazione è generata, evocato nell’accenno iniziale al mito platonico, che introduce al tema della dimenticanza e della rimembranza si veda ivi, p. 295. 39 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., p. 121. 168 Agnese Maria Fortuna e per questo è generante e in grado di assicurarsi quella popolazione che la costituisce come nazione. La nazione è generante in quanto generata: se essa perde questa percezione è a rischio di perdere la propria consi- stenza, divenendo il luogo di un’identità minacciata dall’interno. Quanto questo sia vero per l’America, è lo stesso Cavell, altrove, a notarlo40. Qui vale la pena sottolineare, anticipando un esito dell’analisi cavelliana di Experience, che a stare a Emerson di persone implicate nella generazione ce ne sono eminentemente due. I legami genealogici che possono essere rintracciati nel saggio o sono patrilineari o matrilineari. O si parla del rapporto del padre col figlio e del figlio col padre, o si parla di quello della madre con i figli (tra i quali anche Emerson). L’unica eccezione sembra: «Al mattino mi sveglio e ritrovo il vecchio mondo, la moglie, i bambini e la madre, Concord e Boston, il caro vecchio mondo spirituale e anche il caro vecchio diavolo non lontano da me». Constatazione che prosegue con «Se noi prendiamo il buono che troviamo senza far domande, abbiamo rafforzato le nostre capacità. I grandi doni non vengono raggiunti attra- verso l’analisi. Ogni bene si trova sulla pubblica via. La regione media dei nostri esseri è la zona temperata»41. Ma registrando questa chiusa abbiamo forse svelato in anticipo l’unico medio (meglio: luogo) di salvezza che resti a Emerson: quel quotidiano e quella pubblica via che conducono infine il lettore e Emerson, a partire dal riconoscimento della «povertà scandalosa» che contraddistingue l’essere umano, fuori dall’incubo asfit- tico della vita come sogno nel sogno42. In realtà – e qui sta l’indicazione veramente degna di nota – i ‘due’ di cui si parla nei brani dove si tratta del padre e del figlio così come nel caso dei ‘due’ implicati nell’idea del «rinascere di nuovo» citato da Cavell, non sono intesi da Emerson come due soggetti eterogenei, ma come due modalità dello stesso soggetto o come l’uno (il figlio) parte o membro del corpo dell’altro (il padre). Che sia soltanto un tratto dovuto all’affinità di sesso, e di ruolo attribuito al sesso, sembra riduttivo, anche se ciò è indubbiamente rilevante: lo sfon- 40 Si veda S. Cavell, The Avoidance of Love. A Reading of King Lear, in Must We Mean What we Say? A Book of Essays, Ch. Scribner’s Sons, New York 1969, ripubbli- cato in Disowning Knowledge: In Six Plays of Shakespeare, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge 1987; trad. it., L’elusione dell’amore, in Il ripudio del sapere. Lo scetticismo nel teatro di Shakespeare, Einaudi, Torino, 2004, pp. 137-139. 41 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 306. 42 Ivi, p. 319. Per quanto riguarda la concezione cristologica, Emerson è in linea con quella unitariana. Per Emerson, Gesù è un «puro, saggio spirito» venuto al mondo come Pitagora, Socrate, Lutero, Copernico, Galileo e Newton: si veda per questo R.W. Emerson, Self-Reliance, in The Collected Works of R.W. Emerson, II, Essays. Second series, cit.; trad. it., Fiducia in se stessi, in Teologia e natura, cit., p. 131. Per la cristologia di Emerson e per i suoi portati eversivi rispetto alla tradizione il riferimento obbligato è al suo Discorso alla facoltà di teologia, in Teologia e natura, cit., in particolare pp. 99-102. 169Stanley Cavell su Emerson do pare piuttosto quello delle implicazioni solipsistiche del paradigma dell’unico soggetto di fronte al panorama del mondo, paradigma che Experience, in maniera piuttosto ambigua, tenta di superare. La terza possibilità – allora diremmo naturalmente, tornando al- l’idea di quella «povertà scandalosa» che dobbiamo riconoscerci e di quella «pubblica via» che deve essere riguadagnata se si vuole uscire dall’incubo solipsistico – mette in campo il tema della conversione: e giustamente come questione che si definisce in termini di continuità e discontinuità. ‘Conversione’ che può essere intesa sia come il prendere posizione, o come il riconoscersi come ‘posti’ all’interno della storia, secondo il dettato biblico, sia come l’assumere una strategia avversiva, in contrasto alla richiesta di conformità, all’interno di una tradizione, secondo l’accezione emersoniana. La realtà individuale, proprio in ciò che ne segna i limiti, diventa il punto di forza di questa strategia, come mette in luce Emerson: Non possiamo insistere abbastanza sulla nostra necessità costituzionale di vedere le cose sotto un aspetto particolare, e sature dei nostri umori. Eppure è Dio l’origine di queste nude rocce. Questa necessità genera nella morale la capitale virtù della fiducia in se stessi. Noi dobbiamo tenerci attaccati a questa povertà, quantunque scandalosa, e attraverso più vigorose riconquiste di noi stessi, dopo gli impeti dell’azione, possedere con maggior fermezza il nostro asse43. La ‘fiducia in se stessi’ (self-reliance), che è cifra eminente del pen- siero emersoniano, implica la fiducia in risorse non riducibili a quelle ingenerate dall’educazione e dalla consuetudine. Il che significa che non siamo semplicemente il prodotto della nostra cultura, che la questione identitaria non può risolversi in termini di costruzione societaria. Qui forse è più evidente che mai il carattere ‘impegnato’ del pensiero di Emerson. Infatti il dar credito all’esistenza in noi di risorse originali, non soltanto solleva la questione della natura umana, ma soprattutto rende ineludibile quella della responsabilità che abbiamo nei confronti di noi stessi, di ciò che siamo e di ciò che facciamo, e perciò della responsabilità che abbiamo nei confronti del mondo che, con il nostro essere e il nostro fare, contessiamo assieme agli altri in relazione alle evenienze. La ‘fiducia in se stessi’ o, meglio, il fatto che la si possa avere, diventa insomma in Emerson il fondamento più sicuro del fatto che 43 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 319. Nell’idea del farsi forte della propria, umana, penuria c’è forse un’eco paolina (secolarizzata: le angosce sono sofferte dall’uomo per l’uomo). Vedi di Paolo la Seconda lettera ai Corinzi, 12,10: «Perciò mi compiaccio nelle mie infermità, negli oltraggi, nelle necessità, nelle persecuzioni, nelle angosce sofferte per Cristo: quando sono debole, è allora che sono forte». 170 Agnese Maria Fortuna vivere significa vivere moralmente: l’attitudine e la prassi in cui si tra- duce questa fiducia non sono esposti agli stessi vizi di amoralità cui è esposto il preferire la conformità, comprendendosi come mero prodotto adeguato dell’educazione consuetudinaria. Avere fiducia in se stessi e agire di conseguenza significa assumere se stessi come difformi: o meglio, come frutto dell’applicazione a se stessi della forma di sé rinvenuta au- tonomamente in se stessi (si pensi al «possedere con maggior fermezza il proprio asse»). All’educazione si sostituisce l’autoeducazione, in una maniera ancora più radicale di quella implicita nella funzione ostetrica del maestro socratico. In altre parole, è come se Emerson, o più propriamente Cavell attra- verso Emerson, stesse sostenendo che l’acquisizione del nuovo mondo non può passare che attraverso una riappropriazione del sé, riappropria- zione che consente quel tornare sul mero fatto del vivere, che soltanto può trasformarlo in esperienza impegnativa e linguaggio44. Cultura, proprietà di linguaggio, acquisizione dell’esperienza vengono qui accomunate come se fossero maniere di porre la relazione a uno stesso dato: il fatto di essere in un luogo, nel mondo. Ma questo trovarvisi – nel caso il trovarsi in America – è un trovarvisi come dislocati e privati di quelle condizioni che le renderebbero possibili. Privati perché mal posti. Dunque l’appello è ad assumere una diversa posizione. Qui si mostra ancora il carattere profetico 44 Scrive Cavell in Finding as Founding, cit., p. 121: «E questa è, come la ritengo, la condizione sotto la quale qualsiasi cosa nuova può essere detta, o causare esperienza. Quando Self-Reliance dice in effetti “fiducia in se stessi è avversione alla conformità” [Cavell qui assomma due affermazioni di Emerson: “la virtù in molte richieste è con- formità; la fiducia in se stessi è ciò che l’avversa”] significa che questo scritto trova l’America, così com’è, o presenta se stessa, come repellente ovvero priva di attrattive […]. Emerson, comunque, non si ritira per niente dall’America, perché ‘avversione’ lo conduce non soltanto via ma allo stesso tempo e sempre verso l’America. L’avversivo è una valutazione emersoniana dell’inavvicinabile, un calcolo di questo come il minaccioso. Che cosa è minaccioso, proibitivo, negativo nell’America? Il posto o l’argomento del posto? È il problema che essa è inabitabile o che è indiscutibile – e l’uno a causa dell’altro? E questa è forse una maniera di dire che l’America è incolta? Lo scrittore di Experience sta dunque rendendo colta l’America? E così sta dichiarando che egli stesso è incolto? (Lo scrittore di Circles aveva profetizzato: “un nuovo grado di cultura rivoluzionerà istantaneamente l’intero sistema delle ricerche umane”). Sarebbe come dichiarare che egli non ha – e quindi noi non abbiamo – un linguaggio (in proprio). Può essere detto (da noi)? Può essere mostrato? Gli empiristi classici inglesi hanno interpretato ciò che noi chiamiamo esperienza come se essa fosse fatta di impressioni e dalle idee derivate dalle impressioni. Ciò che Emerson desidera mostrare, in questi termini, è che, con tutto il nostro empirismo, niente (ora) fa impressione su di noi, che noi di conseguenza non abbiamo esperienze (nostre proprie), che siamo privi di esperienza. Dunque lo scritto di Emerson è inteso come provvigione di esperienza per queste spiagge, per le nostre prove, pericoli, saggi (essays)». 171Stanley Cavell su Emerson della vocazione che Emerson si riconosce, impegnato a trasmettere una saggezza di conversione: esperirsi quali abitanti di una cultura e di un linguaggio rinnovati è il frutto di una conversione. L’invito di Emerson in Experience non si esprime però soltanto nei termini del cordoglio, ma si tinge di speranza nell’esortare a rivolgere l’attenzione verso la terra desiderata piuttosto che ancora alla condizione dell’esilio. La pre-visione della prossimità del ritorno a casa allevia gli affan- ni e il disagio: «avanti, avanti! Nei momenti più liberi noi sappiamo che è già possibile un nuovo quadro della vita e del dovere»45. Perciò l’invito da denuncia si muta in medio della consolazione, come nell’annuncio di Isaia agli esiliati in Babilonia: «voi dunque partirete con gioia, / sarete condotti in pace. / I monti e i colli davanti a voi / eromperanno in grida di gioia / e tutti gli alberi dei campi batteranno le mani»46. Scrive Emerson: Io batto le mani pieno di una gioia e di una sorpresa infantili di fronte al primo aprirsi a me di questa augusta magnificenza, vecchia per l’amore e l’omag- gio di innumerevoli epoche, giovane per la vita della vita, la rilucente Mecca del deserto. E quale futuro si apre! Sento un nuovo cuore che batte per l’amore di questa nuova bellezza. Sono pronto a scomparire nella natura per rinascere in questa nuova e ancora inavvicinabile America che ho trovato a occidente47. Per riportare a casa il linguaggio, o rinvenirci a casa nel linguaggio, dobbiamo ritrovare noi stessi, come soggetti sul cammino che riconduce a casa (‘trovarvisi’ è sempre qualcosa che deve di nuovo accadere). Un cammino che più che compiersi nel pervenire alla meta dobbiamo impa- rare che si compie nel «riempire l’ora»: «compiere il momento, trovare la fine del viaggio in ogni passo del nostro cammino, vivere il maggior numero di ore buone: questa è saggezza»48. Emerson parla di un cammino, compiuto in ogni passo ma intermina- to, verso ‘l’ovest’ (la direzione è la stessa di Colombo, dei padri fondatori e dei ‘signori della vita’): essere impegnati in esso non implica necessaria- mente che non ci ritroveremo da soli a compierlo. In quanto cammino di ritorno a noi stessi e al nostro luogo proprio attraverso l’acquisizione di fiducia nelle nostre capacità originali, è un cammino potenzialmente solitario. Per compierlo non sembra necessaria la compagnia dell’altro, la sua presenza compartecipante. Eppure proprio questo espone l’impresa alla possibilità di un esito fallimentare: lo scopo del saggio e del cammino 45 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 315. 46 Si veda il cosiddetto Libro della consolazione d’Israele di Isaia (Isaia, 40-55). Vedi anche Isaia, 55,12. 47 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., pp. 312-313. 48 Ivi, pp. 304-305. 172 Agnese Maria Fortuna che descrive è infatti quello di ri-trovare e fondare noi stessi e una nazione – una comunità civile composta di cittadini perché composta di persone fondate sulla ‘fiducia in se stessi’ –, di trovarvisi come fondatori fondati. Non esiste un linguaggio per un solo parlante49. 5. Perdite e ritrovamenti Come abbiamo visto, secondo Emerson la caduta dell’uomo è la presa di coscienza del fatto di esistere: dove per esistere abbiamo assunto d’intendere l’esistere individualmente come vincolati al proprio punto di vista. Nel carcere del sogno e nei vincoli della visione, l’uomo nasce ‘cadendo’ in uno stato segnato dalla penuria50. Scoprirsi in quel perenne dislocamento che comporta il ritrovarsi nel mondo della visione, è tut- t’uno con la nostalgia per una condizione originaria sentita come realtà sottratta e anelata. Al di là degli echi di gusto platonico e gnostico (ma anche vetero- testamentario, come abbiamo visto), resta che in Experience torna a più riprese la contrapposizione di vecchio e nuovo. E vi torna anche nella forma di una sequenza tra vecchio e nuovo, dove il vecchio (abitato anche da «coloro dei quali ogni parola ci dispiace») è l’esito di una perdita di qualcosa di originario, ma che si è mantenuto al suo interno come una sorta di eredità o mandato ereditario, e dove il nuovo assume i conno- tati della realizzazione di questo mandato. D’altra parte la questione del realizzarsi, dell’accadere, di un nuovo mondo rende ineludibile la questione di un nuovo linguaggio. Come può esserci per noi un nuovo linguaggio? In che modo l’eliminazione del vecchio può costituire una base perché accada nel nuovo il fatto di un linguaggio che noi possiamo ancora intendere e parlare?51 Ma ancor prima: come è possibile concepire 49 «Lo scritto di Emerson è (immagine o promessa di, costituzione per) questa nuova ancora inavvicinabile America: la sua avversione è rinascita di lui stesso in essa (ci saranno altre rinascite); la presenza dell’America a noi è inavvicinabile, sia perché non c’è altro luogo dove andare per trovarla, e perciò dobbiamo voltarci verso di lei, volgere noi stessi; sia perché non sappiamo se la nostra presenza a lei la stia popolando»: S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., p. 122. Altrove, per esempio in The American Scholar, traspare chiaramente l’identificazione che Emerson propone fra la propria costituzione individuale e la costituzione della nazione. Perciò, «l’idea ripetuta senza fine che Emerson era interessato soltanto a trovare l’individuale dovrebbe lasciare posto a l’idea che questa ricerca era la sua maniera di fondare una nazione, scrivere la sua costituzione, costituire i suoi cittadini. Ma perché allora lo scrittore direbbe “io fondo” (una nuova America) se non in risposta alla domanda iniziale “dove dobbiamo trovare” (noi stessi)?» (ibid.). 50 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 295. 51 Cavell, a commento delle parole di Emerson per cui uno non pronuncerebbe volentieri a portata dei loro orecchi le parole amore e religione (dove ‘loro’ si riferisce 173Stanley Cavell su Emerson un mondo effettivamente nuovo e non semplicemente diverso, ovvero dotato di un certo grado di similarità con il vecchio, null’altro che una diversa versione del vecchio? L’idea di un nuovo mondo è intelligibile alla sola filosofia? La filosofia può accettare l’esistenza di altri mondi, di varie similarità al nostro, questo qui. Ma di nuovi? Ciò sembra a un tempo parlare di qualcosa come una rottura con questo mondo qui, o di una sua trasformazione o conversione. E suona come se qualcosa dovesse essere fatto a questo mondo. Può la filosofia fare qualcosa? [...] Per Emerson, nel diciannovesimo secolo americano, che rappresenta, o dovrebbe, una rottura nella storia umana, le condizioni di una pratica filosofica sono poste di fronte a noi, il gruppo degli esseri umani che trovano se stessi qui. (Qui – sotto questa costituzione. Quale? Lo scritto di Emerson ne è una nuova, o ratifica la vecchia?)52. Assunto che la novità o la vecchiezza del mondo dipenda dalla nostra posizione nel mondo, la conversione nostra è sufficiente a trasformare il mondo fino a renderlo effettivamente nuovo? Quand’anche fosse vero che il mondo è nuovo a occhi nuovi, il nostro cambiamento di posizione è sufficiente a renderci realmente nuovi? Se il problema è l’applicazione del paradigma della visione, cambiare posizione non ci conduce forse ad applicarlo semplicemente da una diversa angolatura? Di fronte a me sta un panorama: mi giro e trovo che di fronte a me sta un panorama. Che sia un altro non cambia molto le cose: resta il fatto che è un panorama. E così ovunque mi volga. Se così invece non è, se il convertirsi significa sì cambiare posizione, ma stabilendo una diversa modalità di relazione alla realtà (quale, è ancora tutta da definire), chi e cosa garantisce che l’operazione riesca? E che riesca permettendo che noi si sia ancora in grado d’intendere e di parlare il linguaggio parlato nel nuovo mondo? a coloro “dei quali ogni parola ci dispiace”), osserva che la riluttanza di Emerson a pronunciare queste parole «è uno svolgimento del tema dell’antico e del nuovo che è intrecciato al testo di Experience – Antico e Nuovo Testamento, antica e nuova filosofia, antiche e nuove nascite, antichi e nuovi individui, antica e nuova Inghilterra, antichi e nuovi mondi. Proseguiamo con la funzione kantiana: se il mondo deve essere nuovo, allora ciò che crea ciò che noi chiamiamo il mondo – la nostra esperienza e le nostre categorie [...] – deve essere nuovo, ovvero ripronunciato, rienunciato. In The American Scholar ciò è a volte detto ‘pensare’; nelle Ricerche filosofiche questo pensare prende la forma del nostro riflettere sui nostri propri criteri per applicare parole a un mondo, e questo è ciò che Wittgenstein caratterizza esplicitamente come qualcosa che richiede una conversione (io, naturalmente, la concepisco come avversione emersoniana). E ora calcoliamo le funzioni di Colombo e di Adamo ed Eva: come sapete che nomi sono in uso in un nuovo mondo? Chi sono i parlanti nativi della nostra lingua?» (S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., pp. 122-123). 52 Ivi, p. 123. 174 Agnese Maria Fortuna Viene naturale ricordare il fatto che nel contesto biblico la conversione è un’opera sincretica, dove l’azione di Dio non può essere eliminata: è lui che trasforma il cuore vecchio in cuore nuovo – trasformazione che è atto di costituzione del popolo o nazione di Dio –, è lui che riconduce gli esiliati a casa53. A differenza che nel caso storico del continente americano (non della nazione), qui i nativi del nuovo mondo siamo noi: perché il nuovo mondo nasce con il nostro pervenirvi, con la nostra rinascita. Il che è un modo per dire che il nuovo mondo è il prodotto di una sorta di ‘transustanziazione’ del vecchio: è il vecchio rinato, lo stesso e non più lo stesso nel medesimo tempo. In esso la distanza che ci informa nella nostra solitudine o separatezza non è eliminata, è piuttosto riacquisita come un guadagno invece che come una perdita. Ma resta aperto il problema del garante di un tale rinnovamento: del fatto che qualcosa sia radicalmente nuovo o assolutamente diverso rispetto al vecchio senza che nulla del vecchio sia perduto, nulla almeno di quello che lo rendeva anche il nostro mondo. Problema che non pare trovare qui una risposta: la questione viene immediatamente ridefinita nei termini del cosa fare con questo vecchio mondo perché da esso, e attraverso la nostra rinascita, possa rinascere il nuovo54. 53 Vedi Ezechiele, 11, 19-20: «Darò loro un cuore nuovo e uno spirito nuovo metterò dentro di loro; toglierò dal loro petto il cuore di pietra e darò loro un cuore di carne, perché seguano i miei decreti e osservino le mie leggi e li mettano in pratica; saranno il mio popolo, e io sarò il loro Dio», che significativamente unisce il tema della conversione a quello della costituzione in nazione. Vedi anche Isaia, 40-55. 54 «La nostra esperienza filosofica, ora, di trovare noi stessi qui, ci impone di assumere filosoficamente la domanda della pratica. Quest’esperienza rende necessaria la fine del saggio Experience, del quale accoglie la domanda, “perché non realizzi il tuo mondo?”. La risposta dell’ultima affermazione – “la vera storia (romance) per realizzare la quale il mondo esiste sarà la trasformazione del genio in potere pratico” – non sposta esattamente il fardello dal genio al mondo, ma si estende dalla visione di Platone di un filosofo-re fino alla domanda di Kant di come la pura volontà può essere pratica, lasciando la domanda aperta. Per Emerson come per Kant applicare l’intelletto filosofico alla pratica rimane una domanda per la filosofia. Per un pensatore come John Dewey diventa, potrei dire, semplicemente un problema. Dewey, cioè, assume che la scienza ci mostri cos’è l’intelligenza, e che cosa sia l’intelligenza pratica segue più o meno da essa; la missione della filosofia è far sì che l’illuminismo si compia. Per Emerson la missione è piuttosto, o più o meno, quella di risvegliarci al perché ciò che accade sta accadendo come accade, negativamente e non affermativamente. “Perché gli scetticismi non sono gratuiti o privi di legge, ma sono limitazioni dell’asserzione affermativa, e la nuova filosofia deve portarle in sé e fare affermazioni al di fuori di queste, così come deve includere la più antiche credenze”. In un nuovo mondo ogni cosa deve essere perduta e ogni cosa deve essere trovata. La critica più comune a Emerson è che egli sta negando il tragico. La sua critica più comune a noi è che stiamo negando – noi neghiamo le nostre affermazioni (ovvero le loro individualità) e neghiamo le nostre negazioni (il nostro scetticismo)» (S. Cavell, 175Stanley Cavell su Emerson Se, perché un nuovo mondo accada, perdita e rinvenimento di ‘tut- to’ si trovano a essere intimamente connessi, e se con ‘tutto’ dobbiamo intendere noi stessi e la realtà, e la possibilità di una relazione tra noi stessi e la realtà che non riproponga il consuetudinario paradigma della visione, ma aspiriamo a un ‘tutto’ che ricomponga l’universo di sensatezza senza renderlo perdutamente parziale, allora perdita e rinvenimento sono possibili soltanto nello scarto: nella discrepanza tra parzialità della visione e interezza dell’accadere, cioè in quello che l’empirismo superficiale che ci è abituale registrerebbe come irrilevante. E che sia così mette a nudo la tragicità della nostra posizione, il nostro assumere la parte del ‘giudice’ parziale su questioni rispetto alle quali in genere non sospettiamo neppure il fatto, di per sé evidente, che non possiamo abbracciarne l’intera ampiezza. La prima e ultima risposta in Experience alla domanda del realizzare i mondi della filosofia sono consigli d’ignoranza – non come una scusa ma come spazio, migliore possibilità, della nostra azione. Nel secondo paragrafo: «noi oggi non sappiamo se siamo impegnati o oziosi». E nell’ultimo paragrafo ciò è riassunto come: «lungi da me la disperazione che pregiudica la legge con un empirismo da due soldi; – dal momento che non c’è mai stato un’impresa giusta se non quella che ha successo». Dunque il problema è se un’impresa sia giusta, per esempio, se questo scritto è lasciato dall’autore in modo tale che abbia successo. Nel fare cosa? Nell’avvicinare l’America? Nel rendere più prossima la morte di Waldo?55 Avvicinare l’America e rendere più prossima la morte di Waldo sembrano scopi eterogenei, disparati: ma l’America è l’America delle promesse, la terra promessa dove si attende di essere ricondotti come a casa da un lungo e mortificante esilio; e la morte di Waldo è il mezzo per rendere a noi stessi il senso profondo del nostro esserci, già là e sempre in vista. La morte di Waldo in Experience è la figura attraverso la quale Emerson esprime, cripticamente e malgrado se stesso, l’essere e il rinvenirsi come fondati, collocati alfine in una realtà condivisa con l’altro ma nella rispettiva separatezza, e dove all’opera non può più quindi essere quell’«unica volontà» individuale (l’idea del figlio come membro del corpo del padre implicita nel registrarne la morte come una sorta di smembramento, lo rende organico alla volontà del padre56) alla quale, come già in Nature, Emerson pretende ancora di ascrivere almeno la responsabilità per l’intero reale. Finding as Founding, cit., pp. 123-124). 55 Ivi, p. 124. 56 R.W. Emerson, Esperienza, cit., p. 321: «un giorno essi saranno membri, e ob- bediranno a un’unica volontà». 176 Agnese Maria Fortuna Quell’’unica volontà’ faceva riferimento al paradigma della visio- ne. Ma d’altra parte il mondo riacquisito come condiviso attraverso la percezione della mutua separatezza si mostra come un tutto che non si presta più ad essere ridotto ad una mera congerie di oggetti cui applicare le categorie dell’intelletto. Piuttosto si tratta di un tutto che reclama la nostra intera attenzione, un’attenzione qualificata ‘attitudinalmente’ e che esige da noi una risposta: responsabilmente, ma nel rispetto della presenza dell’altro. Una misura dell’insignificanza del nostro empirismo è che tra le categorie dell’esperienza del mondo di Kant non ce ne sono di simili ai ‘signori della vita’ – Uso e Sorpresa, Superficie e Sogno, Temperamento, Successione, Realtà e così via. Queste sono categorie nelle quali non gli oggetti del mondo ma il mondo come un intero è, come se fosse, esperito; una delle prime parole di Emerson per queste categorie è stati d’animo (moods). Forse potremmo dire attitudini. Nel Tractatus logico-philosophicus, Wittgenstein, verso la fine, dice che «se il volere buono o cattivo altera il mondo [...] il mondo deve perciò divenire un altro mondo. Esso deve, per così dire, crescere o decrescere in toto. Il mondo del felice è un altro mondo che quello dell’infelice». Emerson può essere compreso come se dicesse: il mondo del temperamento aperto allo stupore (surprise) è differente da quello chiuso; lo stato d’animo di colui che è preparato a essere utile al mondo è differente da quello di colui che è preparato ad adattarvisi; il mondo del sogno è differente da quello privo di sogno; il mondo di uno che vuole la successione da quello che si sposa alla fissazione; e così via. L’esistenza di uno di questi due mondi di vita dipende dal nostro trovare noi stessi lì. Non hanno fondazione in altro modo. Non la filosofia della crescita può assicurarne la permanenza, ma le crescite possono distruggere o negarne uno57. L’immagine del crescere e decrescere evoca quella della luna: di un tutto la cui visibilità, più o meno parziale, dipende dal frammettersi della terra – essa stessa un tutto ma che non dà luce – alla luce che promana dal tutto del sole. La ‘virtù’ del sole che rende visibile e quella della terra che ottunde fino a impedire la visibilità vengono così a corrispondere alle opposte attitudini o posizioni esistenziali dell’uomo che può scegliere tra l’agire moralmente buono o quello cattivo: una scelta che si rivela come preferenza a prendere dimora in un mondo piuttosto che in un altro. Se così fosse, se l’analogia non si rivelasse fuorviante (come spesso accade, ed è ancora Wittgenstein a ricordarcelo58), potremmo però infine ritenere 57 S. Cavell, Finding as Founding, cit., pp. 124-125. Vedi L. Wittgenstein, Tractatus logico-philosophicus, § 6.43, trad. it. Tractatus logico-philosophicus e Quaderni 1914-1916, Einaudi, Torino 1995, p. 107. 58 Vedi L. Wittgenstein, Ricerche filosofiche, cit., § 90. 177Stanley Cavell su Emerson di essere di nuovo alle prese con un problema di visione. E la prassi, la rilevanza della prassi, sarebbe ricondotta nell’alveo dell’interpretazione. Basta infatti volere il bene per realizzarlo?59 Basta volerlo per vederlo realizzato? E poi quale bene? Quello che noi consideriamo, vediamo come tale? E quand’anche si pervenisse a realizzarlo, è sufficiente questo a cambiare il mondo da cattivo in buono, da oscuro in luminoso? Credere questo non è forse un modo ulteriore per mettere in atto strategie conso- latorie? Chi sostiene che Emerson, ma qui anche Wittgenstein, abbiano mancato nel cogliere il carattere tragico dell’esistenza umana, credo che abbia intravisto una questione rilevante. Cavell, qui e altrove, riconosce ed enfatizza la tragicità della con- dizione umana, ma di fatto finisce con lo stemperare la radicalità del problema, in sintonia con la visione autoredimente del perfezionismo emersoniano. Questo prospetta una possibile, ma tutta immanente, ‘rina- scita’ del soggetto, del linguaggio e del mondo a partire dalle condizioni e dalle capacità degli individui. Resta che questa rinascita è costantemente esposta al rischio dell’insuccesso: la nostra comprensione del bene non può che essere radicalmente parziale. 59 Ma vedi di Paolo la Lettera ai Romani, 7, 18-19: «So infatti che in me, cioè nella mia carne, c’è il desiderio del bene, ma non la capacità di attuarlo; infatti io non compio il bene che voglio ma il male che non voglio». 
work_pij7odlh4zaafn7mmokiqgdrua	----	MESA BULLETIN 28 1994 303 Communications ABC-CLIO, the publisher of Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life, needs volunteer abstracters to cover journals dealing with Middle Eastern history, including the MESA Bulletin. ABC-CLIO works with scholars from around the world to provide the academ- ic community with abstracts of historical articles from more than two thousand journals. Scholars who work with ABC-CLIO write English-language abstracts of articles from history and other social science journals within their fields of expertise. Most abstracters contribute ten to twenty abstracts a year. Those who contribute more than forty abstracts a year receive a complimentary subscription to either Historical Abstracts or America: History and Life. In addition, abstract- ers receive a by-line with each abstract published and keep the journals they abstract. Available in print, CD-ROM, and on-line, the abstracts become part of the ABC-CLIO databases and provide bibliographic access to the world's history literature. ABC-CLIO has a number of journals in English, Arabic and other languages available for abstracting now. Librarians, professors, graduate students and other specialists are invited to volunteer. For more information, please contact Inge P. Boehm Library, ABC-CLIO, PO Box 1911, Santa Barbara, CA 93116-1911, Attn: Wesley Palmer (800/422-2546 ext 119; fax 805/685-9685; internet edi- tors@abc-clio.com). Ed. note: The Bulletin is one of the journals for which ABC-CLIO is seeking abstracters. In Memorium Aydin Sayih, 1913-1993 Prof. Dr. Aydin Sayih's long and productive life spanned much of the twentieth century and the first seventy years of the Republic of Turkey. Perhaps no other person perceived more acutely both the wisdom of the Turkish past and the modern knowledge of the Turkish present. His vantage point in time and his unusual personal qualities provided him with an angle of vision at once illuminat- ing and unique. After graduating from secondary school in Ankara, Aydin Sayih won a scholarship from the Turkish government to pursue his higher education in the United States. In 1942 he received the first doctorate in the history of science awarded by at Harvard University. Returning to Turkey in 1943, he began his long and distinguished academic career in the College of Letters of what soon became Ankara University. He rose rapidly to full professor, and just ten years later was appointed to the newly established independent chair in the history of science. He held that chair for thirty years until his retirement from teaching in 1983. During much of that time he also served concurrently as chairman of the Department of Philosophy. Aydin Bey wrote on such nationally and linguistically separated thinkers as Aristotle, Copernicus, Goethe and George Sarton. He published analyses of research on a wide range of scientific subjects including astronomy, mathematics, medicine, neutron theory and optics, as well as commentaries on the pseudoscien- terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026318400030376 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge Core mailto:tors@abc-clio.com https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026318400030376 https://www.cambridge.org/core 304 MESA BULLETIN 28 1994 ces of alchemy and astrology. His primary focus, however, was on the develop- ment of scientific thought throughout the Islamic world from premedieval times to the present. Ninety of his 119 publications (books and articles) are devoted to that specialty in which he made the modern world cognizant of the fact that scientific theory and methodology were never monopolies of Western Civilization. Professor Sayih's longest and most definitive enunciation of that thesis can he found in his book, The Observatory in Islam and Its Place in the General History of the Observatory. First published in Ankara by the Turkish Historical Society in 1960, it was reprinted in New York in 1981 by Arno Press. Demonstrating first the importance of astronomy to Moslem religion and to the claims of astrolo- gers, Professor Sayih proceeded to describe in detail the operations of observato- ries at Baghdad, Balkh, Cairo, Damascus, Dinavar, Istanbul, Shiraz and Tabriz between the ninth and fourteenth centuries. He marshalled an overwhelming body of evidence to show that the astronomical observatory as we know it—a special- ized institution comprising its own scientific staff and equipment—was a product of Islamic culture. In a major review of the book in 1962 in Isis (Vol. LIII, pp. 237-239), E.S. Kennedy concluded, "By writing it Professor Sayih has earned the gratitude of all persons interested in the history of the exact sciences in antiqui- ty." Along with the history of natural science Aydin Sayih had a broad interest in other areas of learning. He frequently provided advice and assistance to col- leagues working in the humanities and social sciences. The Archive of Turkish Oral Narrative was only one of the many beneficiaries of his generous help. Among his various contributions to the Archive were, for example, extended commentaries and bibliographies on such diverse and somewhat esoteric subjects as (1) the tradition of the Bird of Fortune (Talih Kusu) in Middle Eastern litera- ture and folklore, and (2) religious practices, past and present, of the extremely ancient cult of Hizir. He was, to a degree, a modern avatar of those Renaissance scholars who took all knowledge to be their province. He was fluent in five foreign languages (Arabic, English, French, German and Persian) besides his native Turkish. What could illustrate his catholicity of interest more than his tenure as Presi- dent of the Ataturk Kiiltiir Merkezi (Ataturk Culture Center), one of the three component organizations of the Ataturk Kiiltiir, Dil ve Tarih Yiiksek Kurumu (Ataturk Supreme Council on Culture, Language and History)? Under his leader- ship the Culture Center became (among other things) the Turkish near equivalent of the French Academy. Aydin Bey spent countless hours editing and guiding through the press the numerous books published by the Center. Not the least of Aydin Bey's skills was his ability to discover and encourage talented and promis- ing younger scholars. The American philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson once observed, "An institu- tion is the lengthened shadow of one man." Whatever new and exciting programs the Ataturk Culture Center may undertake in the present and in the future, it may well always remain within the long shadow cast by Aydin Sayih. - adapted with permission from: Archive of Turkish Oral Narrative, 1994 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026318400030376 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0026318400030376 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_pneuvnvwurabza3tpsoaa6plya	----	doi:10.1016/j.ijsu.2006.03.003 International Journal of Surgery (2006) 4, 82e85 www.int-journal-surgery.com EDITORIAL Intellectual property rights and living organisms Introduction One of the most contentious issues accompanying new developments in bioscience, biomedicine and biotechnology has been the debate surrounding the patenting of living things. The debate touches on many of the legal, ethical and social concerns that come bundled with advances in science and technology, and with how these advances are understood, governed and capitalised upon. In- deed, the intellectual property rights (IPR) system has been positioned at the heart of several historical and contemporary controversies to do with how we respond to new developments in science and technology and how we negotiate new ethical, legal, social and/or other boundaries as a result. What follows will be an attempt to very briefly sketch out some of the principal lines of conten- tion that have characterised the debates around the patenting of life forms. I will look initially at the history of the notion of patentability for living things, then at some of the specific ramifications of the ever-evolving scope and scale of patents on living things focusing on concepts such as the ‘patent thicket’ and ‘patent creep’. Finally, I will look in slightly more detail at a specific controversy in the field, namely that of ‘biopiracy’. Patentability for living organisms Historically, as the nature of industrial produc- tion changed one of the problems that became apparent was that there was a great deal of effort being put into designing new machines, dyes, and other inventions but once these were made and sold, they were relatively easily copied. The idea behind the IPR system was 1743-9191/$ - see front matter ª 2006 Surgical Associates Ltd. Pub doi:10.1016/j.ijsu.2006.03.003 that if inventors knew that they would be somehow rewarded for the amount of time, effort and resources that they put into ‘in- venting’, then they would continue to do so for their (short term) financial benefit, and for the long-term benefit of society.1 The social benefit would come from the patent process itself, which obliged the inventor to submit a full description of the nature of their invention with the patent.2 This same logic has been borne out in the patent system’s treatment of the biotechnology industry. Indeed, the prevailing logic within the IPR system is that in order for society to reap the benefits that come from the development of new drugs, those making the sizable investment in drug re- search and development need guarantees that they will be rewarded to an extent that would justify their investment. As the Biotechnology Industry Organization puts it; ‘‘intellectual prop- erty protection is the key factor for economic growth and advancement in the biotechnology sector. Patents add value to laboratory discover- ies and in doing so provide incentives for private sector investment into biotechnology develop- ment’’.3 For their part, the Pharmaceutical Man- ufacturers of America claim it ‘‘takes 10e15 years and costs $800 million on average to bring 1 Originally, the patent system was seen to have a primarily social function e the inventor was granted protection to exclude others from making money on their invention for a limit- ed time, after which time the invention, and the knowledge of its use, entered the public domain (c.f. Drahos, P. (1996). A philosophy of intellectual property. Sydney, Dartmouth.) 2 See for example Drahos, P. (1996). A philosophy of intellectual property. Sydney, Dartmouth. 3 Biotechnology Industry Organization (2006). The importance of intellectual property. Online, last accessed Feb 17, 2006 (http://www.bio.org/ip). lished by Elsevier Ltd. All rights reserved. http://www.bio.org/ip http://www.int-journal-surgery.com Editorial 83 a new medicine to market’’.4 Although these fig- ures have proven controversial,5 it is clear that the money involved is significant, and that access to drugs, new and old, has a significant impact on the practice of medicine. As the patent system evolved, the ‘‘product of nature’’ doctrine was developed, which sug- gested that ‘‘while processes derived to extract what is found in nature can be patented, objects discovered there cannot’’.6 This was seen as a means to deter people from simply patenting things they ‘discovered’ in nature. Some tension in the system emerged, however, when advances in science and technology led to an increase in ‘inventions’ that directly involved ‘products of nature’. As Eisenberg has explained, much of the controversy has come about because the pat- ent system was built for a ‘bricks and mortar world’ rather than an information economy, which is compounded by the fact that genes can be seen as ‘‘both material molecules and in- formational systems’’.7 Or, put another way, the patent system might well have been calibrated to deal with a design for Emerson’s ‘better mouse- trap’8 but not, as it were, with a design for a better mouse. Currently, the criteria for patentability still vary slightly from country to country, although there are ongoing efforts to harmonise different national patent regimes. For our purposes, how- ever, we can look at what can generally be said to be common criteria of patentability: novelty (that something is new), non-obviousness (that it in- volves some measure of non-obvious inventive step), and usefulness (that it has some applica- tion).9 It is often people’s intuitive reaction that, as they are ‘natural’, living things simply cannot 4 Pharmaceutical Manufacturers of America. (2006). Issues: Intellectual property. Online (Online, Accessed Feb 16, 2006. http://www.phrma.org/index.php?option¼com_content&task¼ view&id¼123&Itemid¼109&cat¼IntellectualþProperty). 5 Angell is quite critical of industry claims about the need for rigid intellectual property to encourage innovation as well as the actual costs involved. See for example Angell, M. (2004). The truth about the drug companies: How they deceive us and what to do about it. London: Random House. 6 Kevles, D. (2002). A history of patenting life in the United States with comparative attention to Europe and Canada. Euro- pean Group on Ethics in Science and new Technologies to the European Commission. Luxembourg: European Commission. p. 2. 7 Eisenberg, R. (2002). ‘‘How can you patent genes?’’ American Journal of Bioethics 2(3): 3e11. p. 3. 8 Ralph Waldo Emerson is reputed to have made the oft quoted (but probably apocryphal) remark ‘‘Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door’’. 9 The U.S. and European systems differ slightly on this point, with the U.S. system using the term ‘utility’ and the European system relying on a concept of ‘industrial applicability’. be ‘invented’ and thus cannot be patented. There have, however, been several key cases that have called that thinking into question, and have forced a legal, if not always social, reinterpreta- tion of what counts as ‘natural’ within the IPR system.10 Diamond v. Chakrabarty Although there are other cases that have done a great deal of work to establish the boundaries of patentability for living organisms, very few have been as influential as the now widely known case of Diamond v. Chakrabarty.11 In this case, studied extensively elsewhere,12 a scientist (Chakrabarty) working for General Electric genetically engineered a strain of bacteria that were able to digest crude oil. Chakrabarty filed a patent on the organism, claiming that by genetically altering the bacteria he had ‘in- vented’ something that was not found in nature. The patent was eventually challenged at the U.S. Supreme Court, who ruled that the intent of the patent system was for patentability to include ‘‘anything under the sun that was made by man’’ and that ‘‘[.] his [Chakrabarty’s] discovery is not nature’s handiwork, but his own; accordingly it is patentable subject matter [.] [emphasis added]’’.13 What Diamond v. Chakrabarty, and several of the cases that have followed in its wake,14 have done is to expand notions of what is patentable, as well as expand the practice of describing an in- vention undertaken to demonstrate that patent- ability. The limits and scope of patentability are still being negotiated in the courts and by policy makers, but will likely be forever pushed by new developments in technology. Patented problems? Perhaps more so than any other element of the patent system, the patenting of living organisms comes bundled with what many see as significant 10 For an excellent history of IPR in the life sciences see Dutfield, G. (2003). Intellectual property rights and the life sciences indus- tries: A twentieth century history. Hampshire, Ashgate. 11 Diamond, Commissioner of Patents and Trademarks v. Chakra- barty, Certiorari to the United States Court of Customs and Patent Appeals, 447 US 303, U.S. Supreme Court (1980). 12 For a particularly helpful analysis, see Kevles (op. cit.) and Gold, R. (1996). Body parts: Property rights and the ownership of human biological materials. Washington D.C., Georgetown University Press. 13 ibid. 14 One example being the oncomouse (aka Harvard Mouse) case as contested in the U.S., in Canada, and in Europe. http://www.phrma.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=123&Itemid=109&cat=Intellectual+Property http://www.phrma.org/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=123&Itemid=109&cat=Intellectual+Property 84 Editorial ethical implications. As Gold has pointed out,15 the patent system has undergone a shift, mani- fested in the Diamond v. Chakrabarty decision, whereby it has been determined that the court’s role was solely to arbiter on the economic impli- cations of a patent, rather than on its possible ethical implications. If the patent system, partic- ularly where it pertains to living organisms, is in- terpreted in purely economic terms it leaves open questions as to who is the appropriate au- thority to arbiter the other questions that arise out of patent decisions (particularly when they traverse such fraught ethical territory as ques- tions about as how ‘natural’ does something have to be in order for it to be ‘too natural’ to be invented?). Along with the pertinent ethical questions, the dramatic expansion of what is patentable stem- ming from Diamond v. Chakrabarty and other cases has facilitated several attempts at developing con- cepts to characterise the ever-evolving develop- ments at the intersection of IPR and bioscience/ biotechnology. In particular, there have been concerns raised about the effect that patents can have on research in science, technology, medicine and agriculture. One of these concerns involves the ‘patent thicket’, which is described by Shapiro as an overlapping set of patent rights requiring that ‘‘those seeking to commercialize new technology obtain licenses from multiple patentees’’.16 The problem with a patent thicket, it is surmised, is that the density of patents around a particular area will actually serve to hinder research in that area, for the simple fact that researchers would be worried about the possibility of their research infringing on someone else’s patent. Closely related to this is the notion of the ‘pat- ent submarine’ which describes an instance where, ‘‘drawing on published sources, a com- pany or Public Research Organisation (PRO), such as a university, develops a method for ge- netic testing or analysis using genetic material and subsequently discovers that such methods in- fringe a patent’’.17 These two concepts can be seen as quite closely related to the notion of an anti-common that has been put forth by sev- eral IPR scholars, where scientific research is 15 op. cit. 16 Shapiro, C. (2001). Navigating the patent thicket: Cross licences, patent pools, and standard setting. Innovation Policy and the Economy. A. Jaffe, J. Lerner and S. Stern, MIT Press. p. 1. 17 Oldham, P. (2004). Global status and trends in intellectual property claims: Genomics, proteomics and biotechnology. CESA- GEN United Kingdom, p. 37. actually limited by the increased importance of secrecy bred by the IPR system.18 Concerns about biotechnological IPR are not immune from some of the concerns voiced about the expanding scope and scale of IPR in other fields, such as software. For instance, legal scholars such as James Boyle have cautioned that we are entering into what he calls a ‘second enclosure movement’ where ‘‘things that were formerly thought of as either common property or uncommodifiable are being covered with new, or newly extended, property rights’’.19 This has often been related to what some call an intellectual property ‘land grab’, or a process of ‘patent creep’, where the system is forced to expand by ever more ambitious patents being filed. For many, the ethical situation with patents on life forms gets even more fraught and complex when the consideration of the patentability of living organisms expands to include material of human origin. For example, a recent article in Science, picked up on by many prominent newspapers, claims that nearly 20% of human genes are explicitly claimed as intellectual property in the U.S.20 The debate about IPR on human material has had several flashpoints, such as the substantial controversy sur- rounding the sequencing of the human genome in the latter part of the 90s. This very public contro- versy pitted a public consortium versus a private company in a race to sequence the human genome, and perhaps more importantly, in a race to deter- mine whether this data would be made freely acces- sible to the public, or whether it would be held in a database available only to subscribers.21 More recently, there have been activists/scien- tists who have sought to press the boundaries of what is patentable. In an attempt to demonstrate some of the shortfalls of the patent system when it comes to patents on human beings, one scientist is attempting to patent human animal hybrids, which he calls ‘chimeras’.22 Ostensibly the purpose of his patent application is to draw attention to the ex- panding notions of what is patentable, and to the ways in which new biotechnological developments, 18 Heller, M. and R. Eisenberg (1998). ‘‘Can patents deter innova- tion? The anticommons in biomedical research.’’ Science Maga- zine 280: 698e701. 19 Boyle, J. (2003). ‘‘The second enclosure movement and the construction of the public domain.’’ Law and Contemporary Problems 66: 33e74, p. 37. 20 Jensen, K. and F. Murray (2005). ‘‘Intellectual property land- scape of the human genome.’’ Science 310 (14 October 2005): 239e240. 21 For a discussion of this controversy, see Roberts, L. (2001). ‘‘Controversial from the start.’’ Science 291(5507): 1182e1188. 22 Slater, D. (2002). ‘‘Humouse tm.: Can you patent a monster?’’ Legal Affairs (November/December 2002). Editorial 85 combined with the expanding purvey of IPR, can serve to challenge ethical, legal and social under- standings of what should or should not be patentable.23 Biopiracy Along with the aforementioned concerns about the haziness of the current landscape to do with patents involving living things come concerns about how the rules of IPR will be played out internationally, especially in the developing world. This becomes especially pertinent when combined with certain international agreements, particu- larly the World Trade Organization’s (WTO) Trade Related Intellectual Property Measures Agreement (TRIPs) which mandates that all countries that are part of the WTO implement a minimum standard of intellectual property rights. One of the other particularly contentious areas of IPR for living things is an alleged process called ‘biopiracy’. The allegation of ‘biopiracy’ is gener- ally designed to characterize a situation where a patent is taken out in the developed world on a genetic resource (or the knowledge of that resource’s use) that has its origins in the developing world.24 As it pertains to medicine, the allegation of ‘biopiracy’ has been most famously made on pat- ents that involve the medical uses of plants, espe- cially where these uses were known before, for instance to do with the wound-healing properties of turmeric.25 Allegations of ‘biopiracy’ have also been made in situations where patents have emerged on materials derived from the collection of human samples from populations in the develop- ing world. In general, allegations of ‘biopiracy’ are made where these patents are present, and where there has been a perceived inadequate or incom- plete attempt to share the benefits (economic or otherwise) accruing from the patent, although in- stances of ‘biopiracy’ cannot often be dealt with simply in economic terms.26 Along with seeking to problematize how the ‘benefits’ of genetic re- sources are generated and shared via IPR, 23 op. cit. 24 This becomes more relevant when it is considered that a vast majority of the world’s biodiversity-derived ‘genetic resources’ are located in developing countries. 25 Shiva, V. (1998). ‘‘The turmeric patent is just the first step in stopping biopiracy’’, Third World Network, online, last accessed November 2005. 26 Many claims of ‘biopiracy’ are also intimately bound up with contestations about what prevails as a system of property, what it means to ‘own’ knowledge (if such a thing is even possible), and other concerns which fundamentally transcend mere eco- nomic redistribution. allegations of ‘biopiracy’ can be seen as attempting to make interventions in the patent system in order to clarify what should and should not be patentable. Conclusions The patent system is an organic one, and has been forced to grow and change in response to de- velopments in science and technology. As has been pointed to in this brief outline, the relationship between the patent system and living organisms is not as straightforward as might be assumed. Through new developments in science and technology as well as with the corresponding IPR challenges, definitions of patentability have now been stretched to encompass living organisms, in previously unforeseen interpretations of various IPR concepts. Issues such as biopiracy, patent creep and the persistence of patent thickets, however, point to legitimate concerns as to the impact that the expanded scope and scale of IPR will have on innovation as well as our understand- ing of ethical practice in medicine and beyond. It seems clear that the patent system plays an integral one in the world of innovation and re- search. However, the philosophical and ontological questions raised by its expansion are fundamental ones: What counts as living in the IPR system? What counts as human? What does this mean for society? What social effects will the IPR system have as the patent system expands in its conceptual as well as its territorial scope? While obviously these are not easily answered, the question that remains has to do, in a more tangible sense, with how we will balance the competing perspectives on invention, nature, hu- manity, and IPR as we deal with new developments in medicine, science, and technology. Chris Hamilton BIOS Centre, Department of Sociology, London School of Economics and Political Science, Houghton Street, London WC2A 2AE Tel.: þ44 0 20 7955 6998. E-mail address: c.j.hamilton@lse.ac.uk mailto:c.j.hamilton@lse.ac.uk Intellectual property rights and living organisms Introduction Patentability for living organisms Diamond v. Chakrabarty Patented problems? Biopiracy Conclusions 
work_pnp3zb4zlnbkrbao2lppgd3phu	----	Rev. Chilena de Literatura nº66.p65 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Abril 2005, Número 66, 85-96 II. NOTAS EL EROTISMO EN CANTO DE MÍ MISMO DE WALT WHITMAN Marjorie Smith Ferrer Universidad de Chile WHITMAN: EL POETA DEL YO Lawrence definió a Walt Whitman como el más grande de los poetas modernos, y fomentó el redescubrimiento permanente, en la crítica norteamericana, del verdadero Whitman: “el gran artista de la delicadeza, el matiz, la sutil evasiva, la dificultad hermética, y, por encima de todo, de la originalidad canónica” 1. Harold Bloom lo considera como el poeta que centra el canon norteamericano2, incluso llegando a plan- tear que es el poeta de Estados Unidos que nunca será reemplazado ni superado. Cier- tamente, el poeta Walt Whitman, quien nace el 31 de mayo de 1819 en Long Island y muere el 26 de marzo de 1892, se configura como una base fundamental sobre la cual se afirma el desarrollo de la poesía en Estados Unidos. Whitman presenta un tono expansionista y afirmativo en su poesía, su voz poética celebra al nuevo hombre y a la nueva mujer en un mundo democrático. Su obra poética Canto de mí mismo (1855) está conformado por cincuenta y dos poemas con mil trescientos cuarenta y seis ver- sos, los cuales se centran en un mismo objetivo: la alabanza y el canto del yo. En esta celebración del yo que realiza el poeta, el lector percibe que lo central es el individuo, un yo que se convierte –por comunión– en los otros, y Whitman se erige como la voz de éstos. A través del individuo, los ecos y las voces múltiples se resolverán. En con- secuencia, en el yo se filtrará el mundo, en el yo se busca la posesión de éste y a través del individuo se podrán conocer las cosas pertenecientes al mundo. Por lo tanto, el 1 Bloom, Harold, El canon occidental. 2ª ed. Barcelona, España: Anagrama, 2002; p. 302. 2 “Whitman centra el canon norteamericano porque cambia el yo y la religión norte- americanos al cambiar la representación de nuestros yoes no oficiales y nuestra persuasiva aunque oculta religión poscristiana”, Bloom, Harold, op. cit., p. 296. 86 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 sujeto se configura como un engranaje esencial dentro de la composición del mundo y la naturaleza. La poesía de Canto de mí mismo manifiesta un tono optimista, el poeta canta la confianza que el hombre debe tener en sí mismo, saludando al nuevo hombre de la democracia. Whitman –the good gray poet– emprende un viaje a través de la escritu- ra poética, donde se establece la posición del yo en el Cosmos, su gestación y bienve- nida al mundo, su relación con los otros, con su Alma, con la Naturaleza y la Historia. Las cincuenta y dos secciones expresan una musicalidad exquisita y un manejo sobre- saliente del lenguaje, y una elevación del yo que levanta la dignidad del ser humano. Este canto de fe impregna al espíritu humano de una confianza luminosa, para que aprenda a vivir con propiedad en este mundo que es suyo. Esta confianza y esta afir- mación de la esencia del ser humano confirman los anhelos de Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)3. El optimismo emersoniano, basado en la confianza individual, fue un llamado y una importante invitación para la nueva psicología del hombre estadouni- dense. Cuando Emerson recibió el libro de Whitman por correo, lo leyó y envió una carta al poeta donde confirmaba que “había publicado la más importante obra de inteligencia y saber jamás escrita por un norteamericano” 4. Whitman era el poeta que Ralph Waldo Emerson había profetizado, aquel era el hombre representativo que había soñado, ya que el canto al yo manifiesta aquella confianza, aquel murmullo de dignidad contenido en las palabras de Emerson: “Trust thyself ”5. Emerson sintió una profunda admiración por Whitman, no obstante, este sentimiento no fue impedimento para la realización de ciertas restricciones. Emerson aconsejó a Whitman la extracción de las imágenes eróticas y sexuales de sus versos. Efectivamente, los versos de Walt Whitman manifiestan una sensualidad profunda, su poesía presenta imágenes intensa- mente eróticas, que podemos encontrar en varios poemas de Hojas de Hierba, obra donde está contenido el Canto de mí mismo. Whitman saluda al Alma a través de su escritura y con el erotismo presente en su poesía, también saluda al cuerpo a través de imágenes impetuosas, delicadas y maravillosamente sugerentes para el lector. El pre- sente estudio tiene por objetivo ahondar en las imágenes eróticas presentes en Canto de mí mismo, viajando a través de la sensualidad ofrecida por la voz poética. Para efectuar este análisis del erotismo en el Canto de mí mismo, he elegido cinco secciones de la obra poética, para estudiar la manifestación del erotismo a través de la poesía. Estas secciones son las siguientes: la Sección 5, la Sección 11, la Sección 28, la Sec- ción 29 y la Sección 45. 3 Ralph Waldo Emerson nació en Boston el 25 de mayo de 1803 y murió en Concord (Massachussets) el 27 de abril de 1882. 4 Bloom, Harold, op. cit., p. 286. 5 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, Self-Reliance and Other Essays. Nueva York, Estados Uni- dos: Dover Publications, 1993, 117 páginas. El erotismo en Canto de mí mismo de W. Whitman 87 EL EROTISMO EN LOS VERSOS DE CANTO DE MÍ MISMO: LA EXALTACIÓN DEL AMOR SENSUAL EN EL VIAJE POÉTICO “Walt Whitman, un cosmos, el hijo de Manhattan, turbulento, carnal, sensual, comiendo, bebiendo y engendrando, nada sentimental, sin ponerse por encima de los hombres ni de las mujeres o aparte de ellos, no más modesto que inmodesto” Walt Whitman Sección 24 Canto de mí mismo6 En primera instancia es fundamental explicar qué noción y definición de erotismo utilizaremos para comenzar este estudio. Comprenderemos el erotismo como el amor sensual, como la búsqueda diversa de la excitación sexual que no necesariamente se orienta hacia el sexo como procreación, sino que como goce y placer para el sujeto7. Como un impulso básico humano, el erotismo abarca múltiples sensaciones, desde la sensación que produce el contacto físico –tanto con el otro como con uno mismo– hasta la excitación de la imaginación y de los sentimientos. El erotismo, considera la expresión del placer sexual y sensual, y como sensualidad entendemos el placer, delei- te y satisfacción de los sentidos. El erotismo es un tema que permite su tratamiento tanto en la literatura, como en el cine, la pintura, la escultura, la danza, el teatro y en general, en las manifestaciones artísticas. Es importante considerar, que la expresión del erotismo juega con la insinuación, con la sugerencia y este aspecto acerca el erotis- mo a la poesía. El artista siempre está consciente del poder de insinuación de las palabras, es de- cir, de todo lo que éstas pueden sugerir y de la fuerza que radica en estas mismas insinuaciones. Para Whitman, el poeta debe hacer que las palabras transmitan fuerza, haciendo que las palabras canten, dancen, sangren, naveguen barcos, ejecuten lo masculino y lo femenino, besen y hagan todo lo que la mujer, el hombre o los poderes naturales pueden hacer. Desde este enfoque, observamos cómo la palabra adquiere 6 Whitman, Walt, Canto de mí mismo. Tr. Mauro Armiño. Madrid, España: Biblioteca Edaf, 1984, 184 páginas. 7 “La actividad sexual reproductiva la tienen en común los animales sexuados y los hombres, pero al parecer sólo los hombres han hecho de su actividad sexual una actividad erótica, donde la diferencia que separa al erotismo de la actividad sexual simple es una búsqueda psicológica independiente del fin natural dado en la reproducción y del cuidado que dar a los hijos”, Bataille, Georges, El erotismo. 3ª ed. Barcelona, España: Tusquets Editores, 2002, p. 15. 88 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 una fuerza sorprendente y cómo a través de ésta, Whitman logra transmitir la fuerza del erotismo a través de sus versos, y es la misma sensualidad y sexualidad lo que le otorga fuerza a sus poemas. En la Sección 5, estructurada en tres estrofas y 17 versos, el poeta entra en un estado de trance, interrumpiendo el torrente poético para establecer paz consigo mis- mo a través de una sexualidad autoerótica, que puede ser comprendida como onanista. El hablante lírico establece contacto con su Alma8 y le habla directamente: “Creo en ti, alma mía, mi otro yo no debe ante ti humillarse, y tú no debes humillarte ante el otro ”. El hablante alude de manera directa a su Alma, y esta relación con su Alma, no es solo una relación consigo mismo, sino que en cierta medida también simboliza una relación con los otros. En los versos, el hablante establece una relación con su Alma y la invita a retozar, a jugar en la hierba (elemento presente en toda la obra Hojas de Hierba). Este juego busca que el Alma libere la obstrucción de su garganta, es decir, para que retoce desenvueltamente con el hablante. El hablante desea que todo cese a su alrededor, porque solo desea a su Alma: “sólo amo el arrullo, el murmullo de tu voz valvada”. Se presenta un Alma con poderes de cuerpo, un Alma que murmura y su voz es todo lo que el hablante lírico necesita y desea. Esta imagen, este arrullo que es todo lo que el hablante quiere y necesita escuchar, es sumamente erótica, puesto que comienza a suscitarse un despertar de los sentidos, en cuanto se manifiesta un goce y una sensación placentera: el hablante invita a su Alma a retozar junto a él y manifiesta el deseo de solo escuchar su voz. Esta sensualidad sugerida por el juego y el arrullo se confirma con la hermosa imagen del Alma que reclina su cabeza en las caderas del hablante, estableciendo un contacto físico sensual y profundamente sugerente: “Recuerdo cómo una vez estábamos acostados una transparente mañana de estío, igual a ésta, cómo pusiste tu cabeza sobre mis caderas y delicada- mente la volviste hacia mí, y apartaste la camisa de mi pecho, y hundiste tu len- gua hasta mi corazón desnudo, y te estiraste hasta tocar mi barba, y te estiraste hasta alcanzar mis pies” Los versos insinúan una sensibilidad autoerótica y la relación con el Alma se mani- fiesta de manera física. Es interesante observar que este es un recuerdo, ya que el hablante está rememorando esta relación autoerótica con el Alma. En este sentido, se puede comprender que la experiencia sensual con el Alma ha quedado estampada en la memoria del hablante, seguramente debido a la intensidad de la experiencia, ya que la propia recreación efectuada a través de la poesía es increíblemente apasionada, como 8 Se utilizará Alma –con mayúscula– para enfatizar la relación del hablante lírico con su yo escindido, pues el Alma cobra características de sujeto en la relación autoerótica. El erotismo en Canto de mí mismo de W. Whitman 89 si no fuese la evocación de un recuerdo, sino como la descripción de un momento que se está viviendo en el aquí y el ahora. El recuerdo se suscita en una mañana, igual a aquella mañana estival evocada en la rememoración. En aquella mañana, el Alma recostó su cabeza sobre las caderas del hablante –observamos cómo el Alma adquiere connotaciones corporales– y con delicadeza el Alma se vuelve hacia el hablante, para desvestirlo removiendo la camisa y hundiendo la lengua hasta el corazón del hablante, imagen que sugiere el beso apasionado del amante que busca compenetrarse con el amado. El último verso de esta estrofa alude a una imagen sensual: el Alma estirándo- se, recorriendo el cuerpo del hablante, toca su barba y luego se estira hasta sus pies, viajando eróticamente por el cuerpo, despertando el placer de los sentidos. En los versos de esta sección, el hablante se ha escindido, y la relación se establece entre el yo escindido –el Alma– y el hablante. Por ende, observamos a través de la Sección la rememoración de una relación autoerótica que porta fuerza e intensidad. Este autoerotismo despierta los sentidos del receptor, la sensualidad de la imagen del Alma, que pareciera que estuviera haciendo el amor con el hablante, manifiestan el poder de la palabra que logra empapar la poesía de una exuberancia sensual y sexual sorprendente. Ahora bien, la última estrofa está destinada a alejar los pensamientos eróticos del lector, las imágenes intensamente eróticas cesan y el hablante manifiesta haber encontrado la paz y el saber. El hablante retorna al tema de la hermandad, en cuanto plantea que hombres y mujeres son sus hermanos, no obstante estas últimas también son sus amantes. La sección finaliza con imágenes de la naturaleza y ya en la Sección 6, se retorna a la imagen de la hierba. En la Sección 11, que se estructura en 8 estrofas y 18 versos, se manifiestan versos amorosos de insinuación y sugerencia erótica. El hablante lírico, en esta sección se configura como un observador que va describiendo la siguiente escena: una hermosa mujer soltera que vive en una bella casa al pie de la barranca, observa oculta a través de una ventana a veintiocho jóvenes (como la edad de la mujer, quien tiene veintiocho años) que están bañándose en la orilla. En la tercera estrofa el hablante se pregunta: “¿A cuál de los jóvenes prefiere? / Ah, el más zafio de ellos es hermoso a sus ojos”. La mirada de la bella mujer no es tan inocente, la pregunta efectuada por el hablante sugiere que la mujer los contempla con atención, incluso el más rudo o tosco le parece bello. Al contemplarlos, la mujer se apodera de ellos, acercándose y chapoteando con los jóvenes en el agua a través de la mirada y la imaginación: “¿A dónde va, señora? Porque la he visto, / chapotea allí en el agua aunque todavía esté clavada en su cuar- to ”. La imagen de la mujer observando atentamente a los jóvenes e interactuando físicamente con ellos en su imaginación, sugiere un cierto erotismo que se confirma en los versos siguientes: “Danzando y riendo por la playa llegó el bañista vein- tinueve. Los demás no la veían, pero ella los veía y les amaba. Las barbas de los muchachos centelleaban del agua, que cae desde sus largos cabellos, pequeños riachuelos pasaban por todo su cuerpo. 90 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 Una mano invisible pasó también por sus cuerpos, descendió temblorosa por sus sienes y sus torsos. Los muchachos flotan de espaldas, sus vientres blan- cos se comban al sol, no preguntan quién se apodera rápidamente de ellos, no saben quién jadea y se aparta con un arco sus- penso y cimbreante, no saben a quién inundan de espuma”. La mujer los observa sin ser vista por ellos, los contempla y los ama. En el sexto y séptimo verso, se describen los cuerpos de los jóvenes, y se describe cómo el agua cae por sus cuerpos, sus barbas y cabellos, imagen bastante erótica y sensual. En la estrofa siguiente, aquella mano invisible pasa por sus cuerpos, acariciando sus sienes y torsos. Esta mano invisible, desde mi lectura, es la de la mujer, que con su imaginación ingre- sa en el placer del tacto de los cuerpos de los bañistas, apoderándose de éstos y disfru- tando del acto de contemplación tan solo con una imaginación erótica y sensual. Los jóvenes flotan en el agua, en actitud de descanso y relajación. Los dos últimos versos de la sección son fundamentales, puesto que son sugerentes. Los jóvenes no saben quién jadea, pero el lector infiere que es la mujer, y este jadeo se relaciona con la excitación sexual que ella experimenta ante la visión y exploración de los cuerpos de los jóvenes. Más aún, en el último verso, el hablante lírico finaliza expresando que los jóvenes “no saben a quién inundan de espuma ”. Desde mi interpretación, esta espuma representa la eyaculación, y ellos no saben a quién llenan de espuma, porque los bañis- tas no han visto a la mujer que los observa, pero ella ha vivido una experiencia erótica y sensual que la ha llevado a la excitación, manifestada en el verso diecisiete. Esta experiencia erótica culmina con la imagen de la espuma representando el semen que llena a la mujer. La sección recién analizada me parece interesante, en cuanto presenta un alto con- tenido de imágenes eróticas y sensuales; sin embargo, éstas se producen en la imagi- nación de la mujer que observa a los jóvenes bañistas. Los versos expresan un erotis- mo delicado, ya que todo se sugiere, no hay tactos ni contactos físicos reales, sino que es la experiencia visual de la mujer lo que la conduce a vivir un momento de elevada sensualidad, que produce la excitación de la oculta observadora. La exploración eróti- ca se da a través de la mirada, la mujer observa a los bañistas, como nosotros –los lectores– la observamos a ella contemplando a los bañistas, convirtiéndonos en cierta medida, en voyeuristas de la experiencia erótica de la mujer. Me parece que esta es una de las secciones más eróticamente bellas de Canto de mí mismo, puesto que se logra la experiencia sensual sin existir contacto físico real, sino que todo es evocación, imagi- nación, sugerencia. A partir de este enfoque, erotismo y poesía comulgan en un mismo sentido: sugieren e impulsan la imaginación a través de la insinuación. La Sección 28 se compone de cuatro estrofas y veintitrés versos. El hablante lírico inicia la sección con una pregunta: “¿Es éste entonces un contacto? ”. Es fundamental comprender que al final de la sección anterior (Sección 27), el hablante ya había plan- teado que “tocar con mi persona el / cuerpo de algún otro es algo que apenas puedo / El erotismo en Canto de mí mismo de W. Whitman 91 resistir ”; por tanto se percibe que la experiencia del contacto físico con el otro es casi irresistible, y el hablante expresa que es un contacto en el cual está implicada su per- sona, por ende, en el contacto y en la cercanía física con el otro, todo el sujeto está involucrado. En la Sección 28, en el contacto, en el toque de otro ser –que aparente- mente puede ser hombre o mujer, pues el hablante no especifica este aspecto– radica el goce de la existencia, un placer y sentido supremo, un erotismo que estremece al ha- blante “para una nueva identidad ”. En el contacto con el otro “llamas y éter se preci- pitan por mis venas”. En el encuentro físico, por ende, el hablante siente que un fuego recorre sus venas, existe una pasión, un fluido que llena los conductos por los cuales fluye la sangre al corazón; en consecuencia, el contacto otorga fuerza, a través de la experiencia del goce. El contacto excita al hablante, y es quizás este hecho el que impulsa la inspiración poética. No obstante, observamos que el tacto domina al cuerpo, sojuzgándolo y sometién- dolo hasta que esclaviza al hablante lírico con su potencia: “Aleves extremidades de mí mismo se extienden y reúnen para ayudarles , / Mi carne y mi sangre despiden rayos para fulminar lo / que apenas es diferente de mí mismo, / por todas partes lúbricos provocadores paralizan mis miembros, / estrujando la ubre de mi corazón para ex- traer las gotas que retiene / comportándose licenciosamente conmigo, sin aceptar ne- gativas, / privándome de lo mejor que tengo, como adrede, / desabrochando mi ropa, agarrándome por la desnuda cintura, / burlándose de mi turbación con la calma de la luz solar y de los pastizales, / descartando sin pudor los demás sentidos…”. Los ver- sos proferidos por el hablante dan cuenta de la fuerza y el poder del contacto físico, que logra someter al sujeto, puesto que su cuerpo entero se ve implicado en este some- timiento: las extremidades, la carne y la sangre, los miembros, el corazón, los sentidos y las emociones, lo que se observa en la declamación del mismo poema, ya que el temple de ánimo se ve afectado por la experiencia del contacto. El contacto sensual (y sexual) esclavizan al hablante, quien intenta fulminar, a través de los rayos –que sim- bolizan la fuerza– que despiden su carne y su sangre, aquello que es apenas distinto de sí mismo, que desde mi lectura puede ser el otro, pero también puede ser el propio sujeto, que estaría implicado en un contacto autoerótico. El hablante se ve acechado por lúbricos provocadores, es decir, por provocaciones lascivas, libidinosas, que lo- gran paralizar sus miembros, sometiendo al sujeto. Al utilizar el vocablo lúbrico, el erotismo se relaciona cada vez más con la lujuria. Estos provocadores lascivos estru- jan la ubre del corazón del hablante, extrayendo las gotas que retiene, afectando en- tonces el motor del cuerpo, pues es el corazón el impulsor de la sangre. En otro senti- do, la provocación afecta el ánimo del hablante, lo que se denota en los mismos versos y en el temple de ánimo, pues el hablante manifiesta cómo el contacto ha turbado su persona. El hablante se refiere a su propia experiencia sexual, en cuanto se reconoce excitado y exaltado por aquellos provocadores libidinosos, que se comportan de ma- nera licenciosa sin aceptar negativas; por ende, el sujeto no puede detener la excita- ción, sino que se somete a la experiencia sensual, sintiendo cómo la potencia del con- tacto lo va privando de la calma, que se observa en la naturaleza, cuando se evoca la calma del sol y de los pastizales. La excitación descarta sin pudor a los sentidos, y el sujeto se ha entregado a la experiencia erótica, que lo ha subyugado. 92 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 Desnudo, agitado y provocado, el hablante confiesa en los versos siguientes que se siente debilitado. La experiencia del contacto ha sido indudablemente agotadora, ya que la fuerza del erotismo y la sexualidad es avasalladora, el sujeto no puede controlar el cuerpo, ni la excitación que lo debilita: “Los centinelas desertan de todas mis partes / me han dejado inerme ante un rojo merodeador , / todos van al promontorio para ser testigos y ayudar contra mí ”. El hablante se halla desnudo y sin protección, por lo que el promontorio, una altura considerable de tierra que avanza dentro del mar, represen- ta un peligro, pues supone la amenaza de una caída abrupta. Bloom establece que en la Sección 28 “Whitman convierte el cabo en una metáfora de la relación antitética con su propia sexualidad ” 9. Según Bloom, Whitman celebra la sexualidad masculina, pero concibe y visualiza el falo como un lugar peligroso, “con una abrupta caída hacia la muerte, la madre, el océano, la noche primigenia ” 10. Ahora bien, la sección no mani- fiesta explícitamente si el contacto se establece en términos autoeróticos, pero había- mos observado que en el cuarto verso el hablante habla sobre aquello que apenas es diferente de mí mismo. Más allá de esto, considero que lo importante radica en cómo la sección trata sobre una personal vivencia de la sexualidad, el hablante describe su propia situación y cómo la sensualidad y la sexualidad logran portar una fuerza domi- nante que esclavizan al hablante lírico. El contacto físico, ya sea como un contacto con otro ser o como un contacto onanista, posee una energía y una potencia que logran afectar al hablante, por lo tanto se comprende que la sexualidad y el erotismo se con- vierten en fuerzas que dominan al sujeto poético. No obstante, el hablante reconoce finalmente que no es el tacto el traidor que lo entrega a los demás, a esa experiencia donde pierde su energía: “Soy entregado por traidores, / hablo de modo insensato, he perdido el seso, yo y sólo yo soy el traidor, / yo mismo fui el primero al promontorio, mis propias manos a él me llevaron ”. Ahora bien, el hablante reconoce que él mismo es el traidor, pues él se acercó al promontorio, el lugar de la posible caída, exponiéndose a ese peligro. Sus propias manos lo llevaron al peligro, a esa pérdida de energía. Considero fundamental recalcar que lo realmente importante es el efecto del contacto, es decir, la reacción que produce el erotismo en el hablante, quien reconoce que el vil contacto es demasiado para él. El sujeto se ve sobrepasado por la intensidad de la sensualidad implicada en el contacto físico, ya sea con otro, que puede ser hombre o mujer, o consigo mismo, puesto que lo exaltado en la sección es el estrago que causa la excitación y la vivencia de la propia sexualidad por parte del hablante. En la Sección 29, el hablante continúa con el tema del contacto. Esta sección es bastante exigua, se compone de tres estrofas y seis versos, y pese a ser una sección breve contiene fuerza poética. El contacto se describe como “ciego, amoroso, lucha- dor, envainado, un encapuchado tacto de agudos dientes ”. El contacto erótico posee 9 Bloom, Harold, op. cit., p. 292-293. 10 Ibídem. El erotismo en Canto de mí mismo de W. Whitman 93 todas estas cualidades, es un contacto impetuoso, es amoroso y luchador, pero también peligroso, por su fuerza y potencia, por eso muestra agudos dientes. El hablante apela al contacto y en el segundo verso le pregunta: “¿Tanto dolor te dio dejarme? ”. Se estable- ce una relación entre el contacto y el sujeto, la relación se da entre la sensualidad y el hablante. Cuando el contacto abandona al sujeto, aparece otro nuevo: “Separación perseguida por la llegada, / perpetuo pago de un perpetuo préstamo, / rica lluvia de aguacero, y recompensa más rica luego ”. La llegada del nuevo contacto se percibe como una experiencia múltiple en riquezas, vital en su expresión, copiosa como la lluvia, que representa el agente que fecunda la tierra, por ende simboliza fertilidad, y se constituye en un elemento fundamental para la prosperidad de la vida por su calidad de fertilización material y espiritual. Esta rica lluvia de aguacero podría representar el semen, fluido corporal que manifiesta concretamente el resultado de una relación sexual, pero el hablante plantea que luego hay una recompensa más rica, que desde mi lectura representa el placer o el goce, que se relaciona con la lluvia que representa el semen, como expresión concreta del deleite. En la última estrofa, se observa la fecundidad: “Brotes prenden y se acumulan, se sostienen en el sarmiento prolífico y vital ”. Se observa la fecundidad del contacto, que puede ser interpretado como una fecundidad en cuanto al goce, a la experiencia erótica que produce “paisajes proyectados, mascu- linos, grandeza natural y dorados”. Desde mi análisis, estos brotes que se acumulan en el sarmiento fecundo y vital, donde crecen las hojas y los racimos, guardan relación con la exuberancia que produce el contacto, con la vida que surge a partir de la expe- riencia sensual, trascendiendo el nivel de la reproducción humana, observando la vi- vencia del contacto como una experiencia que fecunda al sujeto en cuanto vive la grandeza del placer. El contacto físico había superado al hablante lírico en la Sección 28, por su fuerza y su potencia; sin embargo, no es posible evadirlo, existe un placer que fecunda al sujeto que lo experimenta, la sensualidad se proyecta como una viven- cia magnífica e intensa en sus sensaciones y efectos. La Sección 45 consta de once estrofas y treinta y un versos. El hablante lírico describe la juventud, que se expande elástica y vigorosa, siempre avanzando, y el hablante siente el equilibrio, la madurez florida y plena. La utilización de signos exclamativos en los versos de la primera estrofa manifiesta la afirmación positiva del hablante, iniciando la sección con una fuerza impresionante, la misma energía de aquella juventud que se expande. Lo que me interesa fundamentalmente en esta sección, se encuentra en la segunda estrofa. El hablante lírico expresa: “Mis amantes me sofocan, llenando mis labios, densos en los poros de mi piel, empujándome por callejas y locales públicos, llegan- do a mí desnudos en la noche, gritando por el día Eo desde las rocas del río, balan- ceándose y gorjeando sobre mi cabeza, llamándome por mi nombre desde macizos de flores, plantas trepadoras, enmarañados sotobos- ques, cayendo sobre todos los momentos de mi vida, 94 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 devorando mi cuerpo con suaves besos balsámicos, sacando sin ruido puñados de sus corazones y dán- domelos para que los haga míos”. Esta estrofa presenta al hablante rodeado de jóvenes amantes que lo sofocan. Es inte- resante observar que no se especifica si los amantes son hombres o mujeres, y en la versión en inglés el hablante se refiere a my lovers por lo que tampoco se aclara si éstos son de sexo masculino o femenino, simplemente se utiliza el vocablo amantes. Sin embargo, sabemos que Whitman escribió, en otros poemas de Hojas de Hierbas sobre el homoerotismo, por lo que esos amantes también podrían ser hombres. Estos amantes sofocan al hablante llenando sus labios, los poros de su piel, estableciendo un contacto físico bastante intenso. Este sofocar no posee una connotación negativa, por el contrario, desde mi interpretación, es un ahogo erótico, la imagen del hablante sofo- cado por los amantes expresa una fuerza sensual que introduce un vigor apasionado en la estrofa, donde se exhibe el ímpetu del placer erótico. Los amantes están al acecho del hablante, y este es un acecho apasionado, pues llegan a él desnudos por las noches, y esta imagen sugiere una carga sensual intensa, pues la visita nocturna supone –en nuestra imaginación– una experiencia sexual y erótica, y este hecho confirma la fuer- za de la poesía, que como el erotismo logra excitar la imaginación en este caso del lector. Los amantes lo llaman durante el día, desde el paisaje de la naturaleza, que también presenta connotaciones eróticas: las plantas trepadoras y los enmarañados sotobosques, vegetación compuesta por matas y arbustos que crecen bajo los árboles de un bosque, insinúan un comportamiento erótico en cuanto están compenetradas, liadas y enmarañadas unas con otras. Las plantas trepan, como los amantes, que sofo- can al hablante cayendo sobre todos los momentos de su vida, abarcando todos los espacios. Como las plantas trepadoras, los amantes devoran el cuerpo del hablante con delicados besos balsámicos, y esta imagen insinúa una escena profundamente sensual, en la cual percibimos la proximidad de los cuerpos y el placer del apego. En el último verso, los amantes entregan al hablante lírico sus corazones, para que éste los haga suyos, manifestándose una entrega absoluta, un sentido de posesión del otro y una proximidad que excita la imaginación del receptor. Esta estrofa expresa un erotismo exaltado de manera delicada, se presentan imágenes que estimulan y despiertan la imaginación del lector, sugiriendo la presencia de una sensualidad que excita al ha- blante, quien manifiesta esta sensación a través de los versos. El resto de la sección, presenta al hablante que contempla las constelaciones en sus circuitos y revoluciones, y el sujeto observa cómo todo gira y es movimiento. No comentaré lo que prosigue en la Sección 45, ya que la seleccioné porque mi objetivo solo era analizar la segunda estrofa, pues manifiesta un contenido erótico que me pareció pertinente para el desa- rrollo de este estudio. En la estrofa analizada, observamos una percepción apasionada sobre el erotismo. El hablante se entrega a sus amantes, participa de la expresión de la sensualidad a través del lenguaje, en la medida en que describe la interacción con aquellos que lo sofocan en un sentido amatorio. El propio hablante recibe puñados de corazones de sus amantes, para que el sujeto los haga suyos, compenetrándose así con aquellos que lo visitan desnudos por la noche. El erotismo en Canto de mí mismo de W. Whitman 95 APRECIACIONES FINALES: EROTISMO Y POESÍA El erotismo, presente en los versos de Whitman, potencia una poesía intensa y suge- rente a través de imágenes construidas sobre un lenguaje apasionado y delicado a la vez. El erotismo se manifiesta en una relación con el otro, que puede ser hombre o mujer, pero también en la experiencia de una relación autoerótica, que explora la pro- pia sexualidad, recorriendo el cuerpo y las sensaciones sensuales sin pudor. En las secciones analizadas se develan los misterios del erotismo, de la proximidad que pro- duce el contacto, ya sea homoerótico, autoerótico o en la relación entre hombre y mujer. La secciones escogidas ingresan en ámbitos que en la época de Whitman apare- cían como vedados en su expresión explícita, en la medida en que aún se sentía, en la sociedad, la presencia de un puritanismo que observaba al cuerpo como la fuente de una tentación que se enfoca desde un prisma negativo. Por esto creo que Whitman fue bastante osado al ingresar en la esfera de lo erótico. Considero que el erotismo presen- te en la poesía de Walt Whitman es un tema fundamental, en cuanto descubre y explo- ra un espacio cotidiano en la vida del ser humano, puesto que la sensualidad y la sexualidad son temas siempre presentes en nuestras vidas, pues no solo nos relaciona- mos eróticamente con otros, sino que también con nuestro propio cuerpo e incluso con el mundo, en la medida en que experimentamos la sensualidad de la naturaleza, por ejemplo. En este sentido, la poesía surge como una herramienta perfecta para la bús- queda y la indagación eróticas, ya que activa nuestra imaginación a través de las imá- genes, así como el erotismo también impulsa la imaginación de quien experimenta el amor sensual. Whitman dota de fuerza a sus palabras, para que éstas logren manifestar la fuerza de lo erótico, manifestando ante el lector un mundo de imágenes intensamen- te sensuales, consiguiendo que el receptor se conecte con su propio erotismo, a través del acto de recepción, pues sus versos despiertan el goce de la lectura. En la Sección 5 observamos una apasionada relación autoerótica, en la cual el hablante lírico logra establecer paz consigo mismo. El hablante describe sensualmente la conexión física que se establece entre el Alma y el hablante, a través de imágenes sexuales, ya que pareciera como si el Alma estuviera haciendo el amor con el hablante lírico. En este autoerotismo se manifiesta la exploración del cuerpo y de la propia sexualidad. La Sección 11 expresa un contenido erótico sugerente y maravillosamente sensual, pues la mujer se conecta con los bañistas solo a través de la imaginación, lo que plasma que la sensualidad no solo puede ser experimentada a través del contacto físico concreto, sino que también por medio de la mente y la imaginación, que es precisamente lo que hace el lector cuando se enfrenta a los poemas: vive el erotismo a través de las imágenes evocadas por la poesía. En el análisis de la Sección 28 percibi- mos que el hablante lírico ha sido sometido por la experiencia erótica del contacto. Las palabras utilizadas en esta sección me parecen interesantes, pues ya se expresa un vocabulario sexual: los lúbricos provocadores se apoderan de la totalidad del hablan- te, para someterlo a la experiencia erótica, turbando su calma y descartando sus senti- dos. Las imágenes son más fuertes, pues descubren un erotismo más potente y enérgi- co. En comparación con las Secciones 5 y 11, las imágenes eróticas de la Sección 28 son menos delicadas, más osadas en cuanto al poder presente en el erotismo. El 96 REVISTA CHILENA DE LITERATURA Nº 66, 2005 hablante se ve superado por la vivencia sensual que afecta sus sentidos. En la Sección 29 el hablante reconoce en el contacto una expresión de vitalidad, expresión que tam- bién radica en la poesía que descubre la experiencia erótica. Aun cuando un contacto acabe, luego de éste viene otro, y en cada contacto se manifiesta la expresión del placer y el despertar de la sensualidad. La Sección 45 es intensa en cuanto se presenta la imagen de los amantes que sofocan al hablante lírico; no obstante, este agobio re- presenta la experiencia de un erotismo pleno, que insinúa el deleite y el goce de un impulso que produce el éxtasis. En esta sección la relación con los amantes podría darse en términos homoeróticos, ya que no se aclara el sexo de los amantes. Esta sugerencia podría ser posible ya que Whitman escribió versos donde se percibe la relación homoerótica. Whitman en Canto de mí mismo celebra al yo, y a través del individuo se conoce el mundo y las cosas pertenecientes a éste. El poeta inicia un viaje a través de la escritura poética, estableciendo la posición del individuo en el Cosmos e indagando en su rela- ción con los otros, con su Alma, con la Naturaleza y con la Historia. La obra de Whitman respondía a uno de los anhelos más íntimos del ser humano: relacionarse amistosa- mente, amorosamente, eróticamente con todo, vale decir, con uno mismo, con los otros, con el cuerpo, con la naturaleza y el mundo. El erotismo en este viaje poético implica una exploración de la relación que el individuo establece con su propia sensualidad, y ahonda en la relación erótica que se establece con el otro. El erotismo es un viaje, un acto de exploración sensual y senso- rial que se equipara con el arte, en este caso con la poesía, pues la poesía de Whitman también es un acto de búsqueda y una expedición efectuada a través de la sublime palabra poética. El erotismo insinúa, provoca y produce múltiples sensaciones, tal como sucede en la experiencia poética, pues al enfrentarnos a los versos cargados de erotismo del buen poeta gris, ingresamos en un mundo lleno de imágenes que despier- tan nuestra imaginación, establecemos contacto con el erotismo presentado de manera poética y somos invitados a experimentar el deleite y el goce producido por la lectura. 
work_poeswds2cjfbxdgah5j6ubqqxi	----	Books from University Presses American Literature and Literary Criticism The Achievement of Margaret Fuller By Margaret V. Allen Pennsylvania State, September 1979, $13.50 An Anthology of Mississippi Writers Edited by Noel Polk and James Scafidel Mississippi, August 1979, $25.00 Eudora Welty A Form of Thanks Edited by Louis Dollarhide and Ann J. Abadie Mississippi, May 1979, $8.95 cl., $4.95 p. Eudora Welty Critical Essays Edited by Peggy W. Prenshaw Mississippi, August 1979, $25.00 Faulkner, Modernism, and Film Faulkner and Yoknapatawpha, 1978 Edited by Evans Harrington and Ann J. Abadie Mississippi, September 1979, $12.50 cl., $6.95 p. Friday’s Footprint Structuralism and the Articulated Text By Wesley Morris Ohio State, July 1979, $20.00 Hemingway’s Hidden Craft The Writing of a Farewell to Arms By Bernard Oldsey Pennsylvania State, July 1979, $8.95 James Baldwin A Critical Evaluation Edited byTherman B. O’Daniel Howard, 1978, $12.00 The Minority Presence in American Literature, 1600-1900 Volumes I & II Edited by Philip Butcher Howard, 1978; Volume l/$12.95 cl., $7.95 p.; Volume ll/$11.95 cl., $6.95 p.; set/cloth $20.00, set/paper $12.50 Old Brick Charles Chauncy of Boston, 1705-1787 By Edward Griffin Minnesota, October 1979, $20.00 Pioneers By James Fenimore Cooper SUNY, November 1979, $19.00 Switzerland By James Fenimore Cooper SUNY, November 1979, $19.00 William Faulkner A Life on Paper By Albert Isaac Bezzerides Mississippi, November 1979, $10.00 p. English Language Literature and Literary Criticism Experience into Thought Perspectives in the Coleridge Notebooks By Kathleen Coburn Toronto, 1979, $7.50 Fact into Figure Typology in Carlyle, Ruskin, and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood By Herbert Sussman Ohio State, July 1979, $11.00 Interpretation of Narrative Edited by Mario J. Valdes and Owen J. Miller Toronto, 1978, $15.00 Language and Reality in Swift’s “A Tale of a Tub” By Frederik N. Smith Ohio State, September 1979, $15.00 “Timon of Athens” Shakespeare’s Pessimistic Tragedy By Rolf Soellner Ohio State, July 1979, $15.50 The Wayward and the Seeking A Collection of Writings by Jean Toomer Edited by Darwin T. Turner Howard, September 1979, $12.95 Books from University Presses Romance Languages Literature and Literary Criticism Don Quixote: Hero or Fool? Part 2 By John J. Allen Florida, October 1979, $5.50 The Line in the Margin Juan Ramon Jimenez and His Readings in Blake, Shelley, and Yeats By Howard T. Young Wisconsin, 1979, $22.50 The Unknown Light The Poems of Fray Luis de Leon By Willis Barnstone SUNY, September 1979, $19.00 Waiting for Death The Philosophical Significance of Beckett's En Attendant Godot By Ramona Cormier and Janis L. Pallister Alabama, September 1979, $15.50 The Resonance of Dust Essays on Holocaust Literature and Jewish Fate By Edward Alexander Ohio State, September 1979, $15.00 Studies in Eighteenth-Century Culture Volume 9 By Roseann Runte Wisconsin, 1979, $19.95 Tolstoy in Prerevolutionary Russian Criticism By Boris Sorokin Ohio State, July 1979, $25.00 Toward a Theory of Historical Narrative A Case Study in Perso-lslamicate Historiography By Marilyn Robinson Waldman Ohio State, September 1979, $15.00 Bibliography Other Literature and Literary Criticism Aspects of Jewish Culture in the Middle Ages By Paul E. Szarmach SUNY, March 1979, $30.00 Black Writers in Latin America By Richard L. Jackson New Mexico, 1979, $12.50 Medieval and Renaissance Studies, No. 8 Proceedings of the Southeastern Institute of Medieval and Renaissance Studies, Summer 1976 Edited by Dale B.J. Randall Duke, May 1979, $14.75 The Old English Homily and Its Background Edited by Paul E. Szarmach and Bernard F. Huppe SUNY, 1978, $35.00 American Literary Scholarship An Annual/1977 Edited by James Woodress Duke, June 1979, $22.75 Critical Bibliography of French Literature Volume VI: The Twentieth Century Edited by Richard A. Brooks and Douglas W. Alden Syracuse, December 1979, about $100.00, in 3 parts Drama and Theatre The First Public Playhouse The Theatre in Shoreditch, 1576-1598 Edited by Herbert Berry McGill-Queen’s, August 1979, $9.95 ooks from University Presses Shaw and Ibsen Bernard Shaw’s The Quintessence of Ibsenism and Related Writings By J. L. Wisenthal Toronto, 1979, $20.00 The Silenced Theatre Contemporary Drama in Czechoslovakia By Markets Goetz-Stankiewicz Toronto, 1978, $20.00 The York Records Edited by Alexandra F. Johnston and Margaret Rogerson Toronto, 1979, $69.95 Folklore Hawaiian Legends in English 2nd edition By Amos R Leib and A. Grove Day Hawaii, October 1979, $10.00 History of Ideas The Writer as Social Seer By Robert N. Wilson North Carolina, October 1979, $14.00 Linguistics In Time of Storm Revolution, Civil War, and the Ethnolinguistic Issue in Finland By Pekka Kalevi Hamalainen SUNY, February 1979, $40.00 Language and Linguistic Area Essays by Murray B. Emeneau Selected and Introduced by Anwar'S. Dil Stanford, October 1979, about $15.00 The Pima Bajo (Nevome) of Central Sonora, Mexico Vol. 2: Vocabulario en la lengua nevome By Campbell W. Pennington Utah, October 1979, $16.00 Semiotics and Linguistic Structure By Richard M. Martin SUNY, 1978, $30.00 Poetry An Anthology of Spanish Poetry From the Beginnings to the Present Day Including Both Spain and Spanish America Compiled and edited by John A. Crow Louisiana State, October 1979, $22.50 cl., $7.95 p. Bone Love By Malcolm Glass Florida, 1979, $6.95 Dumb Show By Susan Hartman Florida, 1979, $5.00 Greenwich Mean Time By Adrien Stoutenburg Utah, October 1979, $12.00 cl., $7.00 p. Landscape of Death By Takis Sinopoulos Translated from the Greek and edited, with an introduction, by Kimon Friar Ohio State, June 1979, $25.00 Scripture of the Blind By Yannis Ritsos Translated from the Greek and edited, with an introduction, by Kimon Friar and Kostas Myrsiades Ohio State, June 1979, $20.00 Wind rose By Brewster Ghiselin Utah, October 1979, $10.00 VISIONARY POETICS Milton's Tradition and His Legacy by Joseph Anthony Wittreich, Jr. Like Spenser before him, Milton was profoundly influenced by the Book of Revelation; both men learned from this biblical model to combine epic and prophecy in their poetry. It was Milton, however, who brought the combina­ tion closest to perfection, and it was his tradition that became a guide to the Romantic poets of the nineteenth century. In this book the author also turns his attention to Lycidas, analyzing this masterpiece in detail and showing how it looks ahead to Samson Agonistes and Paradise Regained. A learned and important book, of interest to the lover of English literature. March 1979 $18.50 untington Library Publications SAN MARINO • CALIFORNIA . 91108 »pAS c,scoCa>. L0SAn9e'^Ca'- sSsSBss-'- BO°Fouto^'NG Critical Acclaim for ‘Trollope & Politics’ “. . . by far the best examination of Trollope’s political novels so far written. . . Halperin’s book is a splendid example of American scholarship. He knows more about the English 19th century scene than most Englishmen, and is very good. . . on Trollope’s social niceties.. . 1 found myself agreeing with most of his political judgments, and all his literary ones.”—C. P. SNOW, in The Times (London) Trollope & Politics A Study of the Pallisers & Others by JOHN HALPERIN University of Southern California -JOHN HALPERIN- Trollope Politics — A STUDYOF----- THE PALLBERS & OTHERS 318 pp. Notes. Bibliography. Index. $22.50 “Carefully researched, painstakingly documented, clearly organized, and exceptionally well-written. . . . 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Making skillful use of modern critical techniques that have rarely been applied to German literature, Marshall Brown’s highly innovative work surveys and interprets the literary, philosophical, and scientific writings of the Romantic period in Germany. $12.50 UNIVERSITY PRESS P.O. Box 250, Ithaca, N.Y 14850 Criticism: We Thrive on It. Nonsense Aspects of Intertextuality in Folklore and Literature Susan A. Stewart "This is a constantly surprising, sustained act of synthesis that brings together some of the best thinking that has been done in a variety of dis- ciplines (folklore, literary criticism, anthropology, linguistics, etc.) in such a way as to throw fresh light on subjects of interest to them all.” — James M. Holquist, University of Texas Using textual examples from children’s literature, nineteenth-century nonsense literature, and “modernist” writers from Rabelais to Richard Foreman, Susan Stewart explores the labyrinthine relationships between common sense and nonsense. Nonsense, she demonstrates, encompasses a set of possibilities as rich and complex as the more conventional systems for making sense. $12.95 Tennyson and Clio History in the Major Poems Henry Kozicki In Tennyson and Clio, Henry Kozicki examines Tennyson’s philosophy of history and demonstrates how it provides the underlying structure of his poems. Through close readings of major works, and with new evidence from Tennyson’s previously unpublished poems and fragments, from markings and annotations in books Tennyson owned and from Lady Emily Tenny- son’s journal, Kozicki identifies a complex of ideas and emotions that center on three main themes: God, History, and Man. $12.50 The Revels Plays available in the United States exclusively from Johns Hopkins New in the series The Shoemaker’s Holiday Thomas Dekker edited by R. L. Smallwood and Stanley Wells $17.00 Eastward Ho George Chapman, Ben Johnson, John Marston edited by R. W. Van Fossen $17.00 Johns Hopkins The Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, Maryland 21218 MLA DIRECTORY (1856) *Paideuma: A Journal Devoted to Ezra Pound Scholarship Hugh Kenner & Eva Hesse, Editors c/o Carroll F. Terrell, Managing Editor 305 EM Univ. of Maine Orono, ME 00473 First published: 1972 Sponsoring organization: National Poetry Foundation, Inc. MLA acronym: Paideuma SUBSCRIPTION INFORMATION Frequency of publication: 3 times/yr. (Spring, Fall, Winter) Circula tion: 1,200 Subscription price: $18.00/yr. institutions US & Canada; $21.00/yr. institutions elsewhere; $12.00/yr. individuals US & Canada; $15.00/yr. individuals else- where; cost of single issue varies Year to which price refers: 1979 EDITORIAL DESCRIPTION Scope: A forum for scholarship, biograph- ical and bibliographical material which will lead to an annotated edition of the complete works of Ezra Pound. Does not publish works of criticism. Reviews books: Yes Languages accepted: English Prints abstracts: No Articles published per year: 50 SUBMISSION REQUIREMENTS Manuscript length: 5,000 words max- imum Style: MLA Number of copies required: 2 Special requirements: Include return post- age. Copyright ownership: National Poetry Foundation, Inc. Disposition of rejected manuscripts: Re- turned A verage time between submission and pub- lication decision: 1 mo. A verage time between decision and publi- cation: 1 yr. Number of readers: 1-3 of Wk PERIODICALS A GUIDE TO JOURNALS AND SERIES IN LANGUAGES AND LITERATURES Current and comprehensive, the MLA Directory of Periodicals is the only reference that answers scholars' questions about the 2,877 journals and series indexed in the MLA International Bibliography. Entries in the Directory are arranged alphabetically by title and follow the format of the sample on the left. These entries are supplemented by a series of extensive indexes for subject matter, sponsoring organizations, editorial personnel, and the languages in which articles and monographs are published. An essential tool, the Directory enables the scholar to locate journals, to avoid delays in research, and to determine the best publication for the submission of articles and monographs. Available on a single order or subscription basis, the Directory will be published biennially and has a list price of$65.00 and special discount prices of $30.00 for MLA members and $25.00 for MLA bibliographers. Please send your check and order to MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York, New York 10011 Penguinibrinus vmI > the best in Classic and Modem Literature AMERICAN LITERATURE Thomas McGuane Panama (November) 014-005274-7, $2.95 Larry McMurtry Horseman, Pass By 014-004691-7, $2.50 The Last Picture Show 014-005 18.3-X, $2.50 Leaving Cheyenne 014-00522 1-6, S2.95 John Steinbeck East of Eden O14-OO4997-5, $2.95 In Dubious Battle- 014-004 888-X.S2.50 Sweet Thursday 014-004889-8, S2.25 The Wayward Bus 014-005001-9. $2.95 John Williams Augustus: A Novel 014-005127-9, S3.95 BRITISH LITERATURE H. E. Bates Love for Lydia 014-001165-X, $2.95 James Boswell The Life of Johnson 014-043116-0, $2.95 Fa ). C. Hibbert Charles Dickens The Old Curiosity Shop Ed. A. Easson (TV tie-in edition) 014-005436-7, $.3.95 Lawrence Durrell Nunquam: A Novel 014-005189-9, $3.95 Tunc: A Novel 014-005184-8, $3.95 A. E. 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Through immense learning, con- trolled with ease and elegance, the author throws much light on the per- ennial misunderstanding between generations and the vexing obsta- cles that stand in the way of spiritual progress.” —Henri Peyre $17.50 The Letters of William Lloyd Garrison Volume V: Let the Oppressed Go Free, 1861-1867 Walter M. Merrill, Editor As editor of The Liberator and presi- dent of the American Anti-Slavery Society, William Lloyd Garrison was the acknowledged spokesman for radical antislavery opinion. By 1861 he was a widely respected and influ- ential abolitionist. The letters show Garrison as a family man and curious observer as well as a reformer with a vision of a free and peaceful land. Belknap $37.50 NOW IN PAPER Nature, Addresses, and Lectures Ralph Waldo Emerson Robert E. Spiller and Alfred R. Ferguson, Editors Emerson’s first publication was the long essay Nature, and in Perry Miller’s words the “pivotal utter- ance” of the Transcendentalist movement. It was followed by the four addresses, notably “The Ameri- can Scholar,” and the notorious “Divinity School Address,” and five lectures printed in The Dial. “Spiller and Ferguson have pro- duced a ‘critical’ and unmodernized text as close to Emerson’s original intent as modern bibliographical research can come.” —Library Journal Belknap $15.00 cloth; $7.95 paper NOW IN PAPER Fairy Tales and After From Snow White to E. B. White Roger Sale Sale “is interesting and very engag- ing; he is a constructive rather than a destructive—or a deconstruc- tive— critic. 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Using literary his- tory and literary sociology with tex- tual criticism and structural interrogation, the author provides a framework for understanding Gogol’s work as a whole, plus original interpretation of individual works. $16.50 Utopian Thought in the Western World Frank E. Manuel and Fritzie P. Manuel This magisterial work is at once a panorama of utopian thought and an adventure in ideas. Ranging over centuries, the history it unfolds is primarily the story of individuals: thinkers or dreamers who have envi- sioned an ideal social order and described it persuasively. From More to Marcuse, the roster of Utopians includes novelists, philosophers, statesmen, priests, revolutionaries, architects, and scientists. Belknap $25.00 Drawing by A. Rybnikov Courtesy of Houghton Library Harvard University Sexuality and Feminism in Shelley Nathaniel Brown In many ways, Shelley anticipated the work of modern students of human sexual behavior. This is an analysis of sexual attitudes and practices in the Romantic period, and a contribution to the history and theory of feminism. Brown com- pares Shelley with his contem- poraries, particularly Byron, and explores the laws, ideas, and prac- tices of the period. $17.50 The World Viewed Reflections on the Ontology of Film Enlarged Edition Stanley Cavell Stanley Cavell looks closely at America’s most popular art and our perceptions of it. His explorations of Hollywood’s stars, directors, and most famous films—as well as his fresh look at Godard, Bergman, and other great European directors—will intrigue film-viewers everywhere. $5.95 paper harvard university press Cambridge, Massachusetts 02138 "The COLUMBIA INTRODUCTIONS TO TWENTIETH CENTURY AMERICAN POETRY is performing for us the valuable service of identifying the "loveliness which exists" in the work of the outstanding poets of our era." —American Literature THEODORE ROETHKE by Karl Malkoff, $15.00 cloth, $3.50 paper HART CRANE by Herbert Leibowitz, $15.00 cloth, $3.95 paper MARIANNE MOORE by George W. Nitchie, $14.00 cloth, $2.95 paper EZRA POUND by Sister Bernetta Quinn, $12.50 cloth LANGSTON HUGHES by Onwuchekwa Jemie, $12.00 cloth WALLACE STEVENS by Susan B. Weston, $12.50 cloth JOHN BERRYMAN by Joel Conarroe, $12.50 cloth Scheduled for 1979: JOHN ASHBERY by David Shapiro, $10.95 cloth E. E. CUMMINGS by Rushworth M. 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NAME ADDRESS CITY STATE ZIP Please allow 6 weeks for change to take effect. NEW ACADEMIC AFFILIATION (for Directory of members) RANK LANG. INST. CITY STATE ZIP 2. PRINT YOUR NEW MAILING ADDRESS HERE NAME_________________________________________ ADDRESS __________________________________ CITY_______ ___________________________________ STATE___________________________ ZIP 3. Please mail to: Membership Office, Modern Language Association 62 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10011 Publications available from the MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue, New York 10011 ON DOCUMENTATION STYLE 515 MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations, by Joseph Gibaldi and Walter S. Achtert.—Based on The MLA Style Sheet, the Handbook is designed to serve as a supplementary text in writing courses and as a reference book for undergraduate and graduate students and scholars writing research papers. Includes an introduction to the mechanics of writing, recommendations for preparing the manuscript, detailed discussion of purposes and practices of notes and other forms of documentation, an equally detailed discussion of bibliographies, a list of abbreviations and reference words, an appendix on theses and dissertations, a comprehensive subject index, and sample pages of a student research paper. 1977. 163 pp. Paperbound, $4.25 516 MLA Handbook for Writers of Research Papers, Theses, and Dissertations, by Joseph Gibaldi and Walter S. Achtert.—See description above. Clothbound, to be pub- lished October 1979, $6.25 (tentative) ON SCHOLARLY PUBLICATION S31 Scholars and Their Publishers, ed. Weldon A. Kefauver. —Papers on scholarly standards and economic factors in the publisher’s decision; the scholar as publishing author; the publisher’s reader; the publishing contract; and new methods of printing. A useful guide to the current state of publishing, with emphasis on the university press. 1977. 59 pp. $3.00 S30 The Publication of Academic Writing, by Oscar Cargill, William Charvat, and Donald D. Walsh.— Seasoned advice on how to place a book manuscript and what to look for in the publisher’s contract for a scholarly monograph. 1966. 24 pp. $2.50 562 Statement of Editorial Principles and Procedures: A Working Manual for Editing Nineteenth-Century American Texts, revised edition. —Practical guide to editing by the Advisory Committee of the Center for Editions of American Authors, with a bibliography of books and articles in textual scholarship. 1972. 25 pp. $2.50 563 The Center for Scholarly Editions: An Introductory Statement.—Discussion of the rationale for the MLA Center for Scholarly Editions, along with a bibliog- raphy on textual scholarship. Reprinted from PMLA, Sept. 1977. 15 pp. $1.75 S71 The Use of Manuscripts in Literary Research: Problems of Access and Literary Property Rights, second edition, by James Thorpe.—A second edition, taking into account revisions in the U.S. copyright laws, of this guide for the researcher in the use of manuscripts held by libraries and private collectors. Valuable for the inexperienced scholar and a handy reference for the seasoned one. 1979. 40 pp. $3.50 S75 The Transliteration of Modern Russian for English-Language Publications, by J. Thomas Shaw — A reprint of the 1967 guide to transliteration first published by the University of Wisconsin Press. 1979. 23 pp. $3.75 GUIDES TO RESEARCH Z31 The English Romantic Poets: A Review of Research and Criticism, third revised edition, ed. Frank Jordan.—A guide to research on the Romantic Move- ment, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Byron, Shelley, and Keats. 1972. 468 pp. Clothbound, $12.00 Z32 The English Romantic Poets: A Review of Research and Criticism, third revised edition, ed. Frank Jordan.—See description above. Paperbound, $5.50 Z41 Victorian Prose: A Guide to Research, ed. David J. DeLaura.—Thirteen scholars have here synthesized, criticized, and extended our understanding of Victorian non-fiction prose. Individual chapters are devoted to Carlyle, Macaulay, Newman, Mill, Ruskin, Arnold, and Pater. Four omnibus chapters bring together a wide range of further topics: the Critics, the Unbelievers, the Oxford Movement, and Victorian Religion. 1973. 576 pp. Clothbound, $15.00 Z42 Victorian Prose: A Guide to Research, ed. David J. DeLaura.—See description above. Paperbound, $6.50 Z47 Victorian Fiction: A Guide to Research, ed. Lionel Stevenson.—A reprint of the 1964 volume covering research through 1962. 1979. 440 pp. Clothbound, to be published October 1979, $20.00 (tentative) Z43 Victorian Fiction: A Second Guide to Research, ed. George H. Ford.—Fourteen authorities provide assessments of the research, 1963-74, on major fiction writers: Disraeli, Bulwer-Lytton, Dickens, Thackeray, Trollope, the Brontes, Gaskell, Kingsley, Collins, Reade, Eliot, Meredith, Butler, Hardy, Stevenson, Moore, and Gissing. 1978. 401 pp. Clothbound, $17.50 Z44 Victorian Fiction: A Second Guide to Research, ed. George H. Ford.—See description above. Paper- bound, $9.00 Z45 Victorian Periodicals: A Guide to Research, ed. J. Don Vann and Rosemary T. VanArsdel.—Ten author- ities provide a much-needed guide to using Victorian periodicals in research. Among the topics covered are the uses of periodicals, bibliographical control, finding lists, biographical resources, general histories, histories of individual periodicals, identification of authors, and circulation and the stamp tax. 1978. 188 pp. Clothbound, $17.00 Z46 Victorian Periodicals: A Guide to Research, ed. J. Don Vann and Rosemary T. VanArsdel.—See descrip- tion above. Paperbound, $8.50 Z51 Anglo-Irish Literature: A Review of Research, ed. Richard J. Finneran.—Fourteen contributors provide comprehensive assessments of the published research on writers of Anglo-Irish background. Individual chapters are devoted to Oscar Wilde, George Moore, Bernard Shaw, W. B. Yeats, J. M. Synge, James Joyce, and Sean O'Casey. Other chapters evaluate general research works and criticism dealing with nineteenth- century writers, figures of the Irish Literary Revival, and modern drama. 1976. 596 pp. Clothbound, $18.00 Z52 Anglo-Irish Literature: A Review of Research, ed. Richard J. Finneran.—See description above. Paper- bound, $10.00 SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHIES IN LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE A new series of brief bibliographies of resource materials for the study of languages and literatures. SB1 Restoration and Early Eighteenth-Century English Literature, 1660-1740: A Selected Bibliography ot Resource Materials, by Roger D. Lund. —A concise guide to current periodicals, bibliographies, concor- dances. and other resource materials. To be published December 1979. c. 60 pp. $3.75 (tentative) Forthcoming: French Literature: A Selected and Annotated Bibliography, by Richard Kempton. To be published March 1980. EMPLOYMENT AND CAREERS W360 English and Foreign Languages: Employment and the Profession.—A special joint issue of the ADE and ADFL Bulletins, edited by Richard I. Brad, Elizabeth Cowan, and Neal Woodruff. Organized around questions of the job market, this volume presents a wide spectrum o, essays, contributed by both senior scholars and junior members of the profes- sion and ranging from broadly philosophic assess- ments to concrete and practical suggestions for change. 1976. 77 pp. Single copies $4.00 each: 10 or more copies, $3.00 each. W331 A Guide for Job Candidates and Department Chairmen in English and Foreign Languages, second edition, by the MLA Advisory Committee on the Job Market. —Includes an assessment of the academic job market as well as specific advice on interviews, letters of application, and hiring practices for both teaching and business positions. The appendixes provide a list of additional sources of information and sample letters and forms for the candidate and the recruiter. 1975: reprinted with revisions, 1978. 51 pp. Single copies $2.50 each; 10 or more copies. $1.50 each. W335 Aside from Teaching English, What in the World Can You Do?, by Dorothy K. Bestor.—Encourages those faced with a closed door to the teaching field to reassess their skills and to find demands they can meet in related areas. Useful for both English and foreign language teachers. Seattle: University of Washington Press. 1977. 309 pp. $5.95 W311 English: The Pre-Professional Major, third edition, by Linwood E. Orange.—An analysis of sources of employment for undergraduate majors in English in fields other than education, with sample job descrip- tions. 1979. 32 pp. Single copies $1.25 each; 10-49 copies. 80c each; 50 copies or more. 55c each. W341 Foreign Languages and Careers, second edition, by Lucille J. Honig and Richard I. Brod.—A report on the uses of language study in industry and commerce, civil service, education, law, library science, media, science, service professions, social sciences, travel and tourism, teaching, and interpreting and translating. 1979. 32 pp. Single copies $1.25 each; 10-49 copies. 80c each; 50 copies or more. 55<t each. GENERAL T200 Comparative Literature as Academic Discipline: A Statement of Principles, Praxis, Standards, by Robert J. Clements. — The first sustained exposition of the principles, practices, and standards of comparative literature: the origins and dimensions of the discipline, establishing and maintaining a department, pedagogi- cal approaches, textbooks, examinations, disserta- tions, department evaluation, academic diplomacy and politics, and the future of the discipline. Bibliography and index. 1978. 342 pp. Clothbound, $20.00 T201 Comparative Literature as Academic Discipline: A Statement of Principles, Praxis, Standards, by Robert J. Clements. — See description above. Paper- bound. $9.50 W325 A Guide to Professional Organizations for Teachers of Language and Literature, comp. Joseph Gibaldi and Walter S. Achtert.—A listing of the pro- grams and activities of 41 organizations. 1978. 70 pp., offset from typescript. $2.50 T30 Literature as Exploration, third edition, by Louise M. Rosenblatt.—First published in 1938, this classic on the relationship between reader and literary work bridges the fields of critical and pedagogical theory. New York: Noble and Noble, 1976. 304 pp. $2.20 T10 The Aims and Methods of Scholarship in Modern Languages and Literatures, second edition, ed. James Thorpe. —A second, revised edition of the collection of essays about becoming and being a scholar. Four essays: Linguistics by William G. Moulton, Textual Criticism by Fredson Bowers, Literary History by Robert E. Spiller, and Literary Criticism by Northrop Frye. 1970. 81 pp. $3.75 T12 Great Literature—East and West, by George L. Anderson.—A checklist and critical evaluation of UNESCO translations. 1968. 58 pp. $5.00 T90 Proceedings of a Conference on Literary Data Processing.—Nineteen papers presented to a con- ference held 9-11 September 1964. The categories by which the papers are arranged are Computer Research and the Humanities, Inventory and Bibliography, Con- cordances, and Literary Texts and Stylistic Analysis. Jess B. Bessinger, Jr., Stephen M. Parrish, and Harry F. Arader, editors. IBM, 1965. 329 pp. $6.00 J110 The Little Magazine and Contemporary Literature, ed. Reed Whittemore.—Papers about and discussion of the situation of creative writers and literary magazines in contemporary society, particularly on the campus. Sponsored by the Library of Congress. 1966. 119 pp. $4.25 W320 The Ph.D. in English and Foreign Languages: A Conference Report.—A special joint issue of the ADE and ADFL Bulletins, presenting the speeches, surveys, and workshop reports of the University of Texas Con- ference on the Research Component of the Ph.D. in English and the Foreign Languages. 1972. 1973. 54 pp. $1.75 PROFESSION An annual collection of articles selected from the Bulletins of the Association of Departments of English and the Association of Departments of Foreign Lan- guages, providing trenchant discussions of the current state of the profession. W370 Profession 77, ed. Richard I. Brod and Jasper P. Neel. —1977. 60 pp. $4.00 W371 Profession 78, ed. Richard I. Brod and Jasper P. Neel. —1978. 60 pp. $4.00 W372 Profession 79, ed. Richard I. Brod and Jasper P. Neel. —1979. c. 60 pp. $4.00 MLA COMMISSION ON THE LITERATURES AND LANGUAGES OF AMERICA B101 Minority Language and Literature: Retrospective and Perspective, ed. Dexter Fisher.—A collection of sixteen essays giving a composite picture of the issues surrounding the study of minority language and literature. 1977. 160 pp. $5.50 B102 Afro-American Literature: The Reconstruction o, Instruction, ed. Dexter Fisher and Robert B. Stepto. — A study of Afro-American literature as literature, along with course designs. 1979. 256 pp. $8.00 MLA COMMISSION ON THE STATUS OF WOMEN IN THE PROFESSION B80 Directory of Women Scholars in the Modern Languages, comp, the MLA Commission on the Status of Women in the Profession. —1973. 194 pp., offset from typescript. $3.00 B81 Study III. Women in Modern Language Depart- ments, 1972-73: A Report by the Commission on the Status of Women in the Profession.— Reprinted from PMLA, Jan. 1976. 13 pp. $1.25 B85 Academic Women, Sex Discrimination and the Law, revised edition, by Adrian Tinsley, Elaine Reuben, and Diane Crothers.—Outlines legal resources avail- able to women who have experienced discrimination. 1975. 30 pp., offset from typescript. $1.25 B86 “Unladylike and Unprofessional”: Academic Women and Academic Unions, ed. Elaine Reuben and Leonore Hoffmann. — Essays on the experiences of women involved in academic unions. 1975. 54 pp.. off- set from typescript. $2.50 B87 Careers and Couples: An Academic Question, ed. Leonore Hoffmann and Gloria DeSole. —19 essays and documents under four headings: The Part-Time Career, The Dual Career. Shared Appointments, and Shared Lives. 1976. 59 pp., offset from typescript. $3.50 INDEX SOCIETY FUND PUBLICATIONS Z21 Short-Title Catalogue of Books Printed in England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and British America and of English Books Printed in Other Countries, 1641-1700, second edition, revised and enlarged, comp. Donald Wing.—Volume I. 1972. 642 pp. Clothbound, $65.00 Forthcoming: Short-Title Catalogue of Books Printed in England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and British America and of English Books Printed in Other Countries, 1641-1700, second edition, revised and enlarged, ed. Timothy J. Crist. — Volume II. Clothbound, to be published July 1980, $100.00 (tentative) Z2 Index of Middle English Verse, comp. Carleton Brown and Rossell H. Robbins. —1943. 785 pp. Cloth- bound, $19.50 Z3 Bibliography of Seventeenth-Century French Prose Fiction, comp. Ralph W. Baldner. —1967. 197 pp. Cloth- bound, $9.00 Zo First-Line Index of English Poetry, 1500-1800, in Manuscripts of the Bodleian Library, Oxford, ed. Margaret Crum. —1969. 2 vols., 1257 pp. Clothbound, $33.00 NEW VARIORUM EDITION OF SHAKESPEARE Z36 As You Like It, ed. Richard Knowles, with a survey of criticism by Evelyn Joseph Mattern, IHM. —1977. 737 pp. Clothbound, $50.00 Z37 Measure for Measure, ed. Mark Eccles.—Cloth- bound, to be published October 1979, $75.00 (tentative) BIBLIOGRAPHIES TO SUPPLEMENT THE NEW VARIORUM EDITIONS OF SHAKESPEARE Z120 Henry the Fourth, Part One: A Bibliography to Supplement the New Variorum Edition of 1936 and the Supplement of 1956, comp. Michael Kiernan.—1977. 15 pp. $4.00 Z121 Henry the Fourth, Part Two: A Bibliography to Supplement the New Variorum Edition of 1940, comp. M. A. Shaaber.—1977. 18 pp. $4.00 Z122 The Tragedy of Julius Caesar: A Bibliography to Supplement the New Variorum Edition of 1913, comp. John W. Velz.—1977. 58 pp. $9.00 Z123 The Life and Death of King Richard II: A Bibliog- raphy to Supplement the New Variorum Edition of 1955, comp. Matthew W. Black and G. Harold Metz.— 1977. 31 pp. $5.00 Z124 All four Bibliographies, as listed above, in a single volume. —1977. 172 pp. Clothbound, $19.00 INTRODUCTIONS TO THE OLDER LANGUAGES OF EUROPE Z100 An Introduction to Old Irish, by R. P. and W. P. Lehmann. —1975. 201 pp. Clothbound, $13.50 Z101 An Introduction to the Gothic Language, by William H. Bennett.—Clothbound, to be published January 1980, $15.00 (tentative) OPTIONS FOR TEACHING J200 Options for the Teaching of English: The Under- graduate Curriculum, ed. Elizabeth Wooten Cowan.— Useful data and ideas for curriculum improvement in reports from 23 departments. 1975. 123 pp. $6.00 J201 Options for the Teaching of English: Freshman Composition, ed. Jasper P. Neel.—A cross section of approaches used in the teaching of writing at 18 schools representing a wide range: two-year and four- year, rural and urban, public and private, graduate and undergraduate. 1978. 120 pp. $6.00 J202 Options for Undergraduate Foreign Language Programs: Four-Year and Two-Year Colleges, by Renate A. Schulz.—A survey and description of suc- cessful programs. 1979. 97 pp. $6.00 ENGLISH J156 The State of the Discipline, 1970s-1980s, ed. Jasper P. Neel. — A special double issue of the ADE Bulletin containing specially commissioned essays on the curriculum (undergraduate and graduate), the teaching of writing, critical theory, the job market, and the general state of the discipline. To be published October 1979. c. 90 pp. $5.00 (tentative) J155 Either Way Will Hurt and Other Essays on English 1975, ed. Elizabeth Wooten Cowan. — A collec- tion of essays, reprinted from the ADE Bulletin, by Robert F. Hogan, Malcolm G. Scully, Irving Howe, Roger Rosenblatt, Edmond L. Volpe, William D. Schaefer, Marilyn L. Williamson, Richard L. Larson, James E. Miller, Jr., Wallace W. Douglas, David H. Stewart, Page Tigar, and George J. Worth. 1976. 92 pp. $4.00 J150 Prospects for the 70’s: English Departments and Multidisciplinary Study, ed. Harry Finestone and Michael F. Shugrue.—A series of papers from the ADE Interdisciplinary Conferences pointing new directions for the study and teaching of English. 1973. 246 pp. $7.50 W300 The Evaluation of Teaching College English, by Richard L. Larson. —Emphasizing the importance of good teaching, Larson discusses arguments for and against evaluation techniques, surveys a wide variety of existing practices, and recommends procedures for student and faculty participation in evaluating effec- tive teaching. 1971. 102 pp. $4.25 W350 Tradition and Reform in the Teching of English: A History, by Arthur Applebee. — An account of the im- pact of social and educational change on the teaching of English, with an emphasis on the teaching of litera- ture. NCTE, 1974. 298 pp. $5.95 FOREIGN LANGUAGES A325 Language Study for the 1980s: Reports of the MLA-ACLS Language Task Forces, ed. Richard I. Brod. — Reports of special task forces appointed by the MLA and the American Council of Learned Societies to study the role and future of foreign language study in the United States. Includes recommendations for in- stitutional policies and legislation. To be published November 1979. c. 100 pp. $8.00 (tentative) A320 Russian Language Study in 1975: A Status Report, ed. Joseph L. Conrad.—Seven specialists pre- sent an overview of the teaching of Russian in American high schools, colleges, and graduate schools. MLA & ERIC Clearinghouse on Languages and Linguistics, 1976. 74 pp., offset from typescript. $3.50 E30 A Linguistic Guide to Language Learning, second edition, by William G. Moulton.—A lucid and authori- tative statement of the principles of linguistics as they apply to learning a language. 1970. 140 pp. $4.25 B60 A Selective Bibliography on the Teaching of Foreign Languages, 1920-1966, by Emma M. Birkmaier and Dale L. Lange.—FLA, May 1968. 36 pp. $2.50 B61 A Selective Bibliography of Works Related to the Teaching of Slavic Languages and Literatures in the United States and Canada, 1942-1967, comp. Sigmund S. Birkenmayer.—1,148 entries accompanied by an author index. 1968. 40 pp. $2.50 C10 Guidelines for Teacher Education Programs in MFLs: An Exposition, comp. F. Andre Paquette.—An overview of the MFL profession's discussion of pro- fessional preparation 1940-65, a description of the MLA MFL teacher preparation study, the Guidelines resulting from the study, an exposition of the Guidelines, selected references on MFL teacher preparation, and 15 professional statements of individuals and groups on the subject. Reprint of MLJ, Oct. 1966. 103 pp. $5.00 D300 Directions in Foreign Language Testing, by Rebecca M. Valette. —Describes the state of foreign language testing in the American classroom, presents a working taxonomy of the objectives of foreign language instruction, and indicates directions for fur- ther research. ERIC, 1969. 65 pp. $4.25 D350 Options and Perspectives: A Sourcebook of Innovative Foreign Language Programs in Action, K-12, by F. William D. Love and Lucille J. Honig. —Descrip- tions of over 50 individual programs—from “total im- mersion." study-abroad, and individual programs to mini-courses, summer camps, and FLES enrichment institutes—based on a survey undertaken by the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Lan- guages. MLA, for ACTFL, 1973. 361 pp. $4.25 LANGUAGE IN EDUCATION: THEORY AND PRACTICE A series of publications commissioned and prepared by the ERIC Clearinghouse on Languages and Lin- guistics and published by the Center for Applied Lin- guistics. The series includes practical guides for classroom teachers, state-of-the-art papers, and an- notated bibliographies. All volumes are offset from typescript. 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Canada, and Mexico by Kraus-Thomson Organi- zation Limited, FL 9491, Nendeln, Liechtenstein. ORDER FORM (Please use this order form, or include the information below on your order.) Quantity Code Title Unit Cost Cost Please remit payment with orders under $10.00 Name ...................... Address................... Handling Charge Extra Postage (see #3 above) Amount Enclosed Total Cost ............. 1.00 City ....................................................................... State ZIP Code.................... Contents of Volume 94 (1979) I. AUTHORS AND TITLES Barolini , Teodolinda (Univ. of California, Berkeley). Bertran de Born and Sordello: The Poetry of Politics in Dante’s Comedy ......................................................... (May) Baym , Nina (Univ. of Illinois, Urbana). Melville’s Quarrel with Fiction. . . (Oct.) Bennett . Benjamin (Univ. of Virginia). Nietzsche’s Idea of Myth: The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Eighteenth-Century Aesthetics ................................. (May) Bernard , John D. (Univ. of Texas, Houston). “To Constancie Confin’de”: The Po- etics of Shakespeare’s Sonnets ............................................................................... (Jan.) Blake , Susan L. (Lafayette Coll.). Ritual and Rationalization: Black Folklore in the Works of Ralph Ellison (Jan.) Bogue , Ronald L. (Univ. of Georgia). The Meaning of “Grace” in Pope’s Aesthetic ............................................................................................................................. (May) Carey , Douglas M. (Univ. of Illinois, Chicago Circle). Lazarillo de Tonnes and the Quest for Authority ................................................................................................. (Jan.) Carruthers , Mary (Univ. of Illinois, Chicago Circle). The Wife of Bath and the Painting of Lions ................................................................................................. (March) Carton , Evan (Univ. of Texas, Austin). Complicity and Responsibility in Pandarus’ Bed and Chaucer’s Art ........................................................................................ (Jan.) Collins , R. G. (Univ. of Ottawa). The Hidden Bastard: A Question of Illegitimacy in Smollett’s Peregrine Pickle ................................................................................. (Jan.) Crocker , Lester G. (Univ. of Virginia). Order and Disorder in Rousseau’s Social Thought................................................................................................................. (March) Dekker , George , and Joseph Harris (Stanford Univ.). Supernaturalism and the Vernacular Style in A Farewell to Arms ......................................................... (March) Galan , F. W. (Univ. of Texas, Austin). Literary System and Systemic Change: The Prague School Theory of Literary History, 1928-48 ..................................... (March) Ganz . Arthur (City Coll., City Univ. of New York). Miracle and Vine Leaves: An Ibsen Play Rewrought............................................................................................. (Jan.) Grant , Richard B. (Univ. of Texas, Austin). Sequence and Theme in Victor Hugo's Les Orientales (Oct.) Hall , Anne Drury (Univ. of North Carolina, Chapel Hill). Epistle, Meditation, and Sir Thomas Browne’s Religio Medici ....................................................... (March) Hawkins , Hunt (Florida State Univ.). Conrad’s Critique of Imperialism in Heart of Darkness (March) Herrero , Javier (Univ. of Virginia). Renaissance Poverty and Lazarillo’s Family: The Birth of the Picaresque Genre ..................................................................... (Oct.) Levao , Ronald (Princeton Univ.). Sidney’s Feigned Apology .................. (March) Levine , Jennifer Schiffer (Univ. of Toronto). Originality and Repetition in Finne- gans Wake and Ulysses (Jan.) Lewis , Thomas E. (Univ. of Iowa). Notes toward a Theory of the Referent. . (May) Miles , David H. (Univ. of Virginia). Portrait of the Marxist as a Young Hegelian: Lukacs’ Theory of the Novel ............................................................................. (Jan.) Nagel , Alan F. (Univ. of Iowa). Literary and Historical Context in Ronsard's Son- nets pour Helene ..................................................................................................... (May) Niles , John D. (Univ. of California, Berkeley). Ring Composition and the Structure of Beowulf ............................................................................................................... (Oct.) Ong , Walter J. (St. Louis Univ.). Presidential Address 1978 ...................... (May) Patterson , Annabel M. (York Univ.). “How to load and . . . bend”: Syntax and Interpretation in Keats’s To Autumn ................................................................... (May) Peavler , Terry J. (Pennsylvania State Univ.). Blow-Up-. A Reconsideration of Antonioni’s Infidelity to Cortazar ......................................................................... (Oct.) Renaker , David (San Francisco State Univ.). Swift’s Laputians as a Caricature of the Cartesians (Oct.) Ross, Stephen M. (United States Naval Academy). “Voice” in Narrative Texts: The Example of As I Lay Dying....................................................................... (March) 395 909 420 77 121 434 36 209 47 91 247 311 275 9 894 234 286 876 223 106 459 22 406 924 385 449 887 936 Contents of Volume 94 Stevens , Martin (Herbert H. Lehman Coll., City Univ. of New York). The Royal Stanza in Early English Literature ......................................................................... (Jan.) 62 Yu, Pauline (Univ. of Minnesota). The Poetics of Discontinuity: East-West Corre- spondences in Lyric Poetry ............................................................................... (March) 261 II. MISCELLANEOUS Chairmen and Directors of Ethnic Studies Programs .............................. (Dir.) 759 Chairmen of Language and Area Programs ............................................. (Dir.) 761 Committees and Commissions of the Association ................................... (Dir.) 555 Constitution of the Modern Language Association ............................... (Dir.) 584 Directory of Useful Addresses , 1979-80 ................................................. (Dir.) 844 Distribution of MLA Members ................................................................... (Dir.) 561 Editor 's Column ................................. (Jan.) 3, (March) 203, (May) 379, (Oct.) 871 English and Foreign Language Department Chairmen , 1979-80 Four -Year Colleges and Universities ..................................................... (Dir.) 729 Junior and Community Colleges (Dir.) 748 Fellowships and Grants ................................................................................. (Dir.) 772 Financial Statements of the Modern Language Association ................ (Dir.) 769 Forum ................................................. (Jan.) 137, (March) 319, (May) 476, (Oct.) 945 Honorary Fellows of the Modern Language Association ...................... (Dir.) 595 Honorary Members of the Modern Language Association ................... (Dir.) 594 List of Members ............................................................................................. (Dir.) 596 Members of the Executive Council ............................................................. (Dir.) 552 MLA Delegate Assembly (Dir.) 553 MLA Divisions and Discussion Groups ....................................................... (Dir.) 562 MLA Headquarters Staff ....................................................................... (Dir.) 558 MLA Statistics ................................................................................................. (Dir.) 559 Necrology ......................................................................................................... (Dir.) 727 Presidents of the Association , 1884-1979 ................................................. (Dir.) 552 Procedures for Organizing Meetings for the MLA Convention and Policies for MLA Divisions and Discussion Groups ................................................... (Dir.) 564 Professional Notes and Comment ............................................................................. ............................................. (Jan.) 154, (March) 338, (May) 494, (Dir.) 800, (Oct.) 982 Report of the Executive Director ............................................................. (May) 483 Reports of the Regional Modern Language Associations ...................... (Dir.) 576 Women ’s Studies Programs ........................................................................... (Dir.) 764 20% exhibit discounts at MLA. See our display at Booth 119 Critical Inquiry On Metaphor Edited by Sheldon Sacks Originally published as the Autumn 1978 issue of Critical Inquiry, this Phoenix paperback edition includes two new essays by Max Black and Nelson Goodman (which also appear in the Autumn 1979 issue of the journal) along with a comprehensive index to the work. 1979 208 p. 6x9 Paper $5.95 IN VOLUME 61 Rudolf Arnheim Quentin Bell Max Black Lee R. Edwards Nelson Goodman Michael Holroyd Eric S. Rabkin Roger Scruton John R. Searle Stephen Toulmin A Plea for Visual Thinking Bloomsbury and "The Vulgar Passions" How Metaphors Work: A Reply to Donald Davidson The Labors of Psyche: Toward a Theory of Female Heroism Metaphor as Moonlighting George Bernard Shaw: Women and the Body Politic Metalinguistics and Science Fiction Photography and Representation Las Meninas and the Paradoxes of Pictorial Representation The Inwardness of Mental Life Critical Inquiry regularly publishes the finest articles on criticism, the visual arts, history and culture, film, music, and literature. Edited by W. J. T. Mitchell Wayne C. Booth Robert E. Streeter Elizabeth Abel Robert von Hallberg Modern Philology l ■m IN VOLUME 77^ Laurence A. Breiner Jewel Spears Brooker Katherine Gottschalk Vivian Mercier Alice Miskimin Robert Morrissey J. Don Vann Herbert's Cockatrice Bradleian Idealism in the Poetry of T. S. Eliot Discoveries concerning the British Library MS Harley 6910 Joyce: Before, During, After The Illustrated 18th-Century Chaucer Vers un topos litteraire: la prehistoire de la reverie Wordsworth and the Burns Festival: An Uncollected Letter Since 1903 Modern Philology has been devoted to the study of literature from the Middle Ages to the present. Edited by Gwin J. Kolb and Edward W. Rosenheim ■HHHHThe University of Chicago Press Critical Inquiry and Modern Philology are published quarterly by The University of Chicago Press,. 11030 Langley Avenue, Chicago, Illinois 60628. 66 I have read every word of Part I of Liz and Greg Cowan's book and... I have very little to say but TERRIFIC!... a delight to read.^^^^ —Donald C. Stewart, Kansas State University 66 . laudatory.... Wiley could have a bestselling rhetoric on its list....—Edward Corbett, The Ohio State University &^Students tired of lists of sentence types and transitional phrases will appreciate this approach and will get more out of it.... 99 —Marilyn Cooper, University of Minnesota WRITING Gregory Cowan & Elizabeth Cowan, both of Texas A&M University Coming January 1980 THE WRITER'S PRACTICAL HANDBOOK Adrienne Robins, CJccidetitiil College January 1980 THE WILEY READER (Brief Edition) Designs for Writing Caroline D. Eckhardt, The Pennsylvania State University & David H. Stewart, Tews A & M University 1979 READINGS FOR TODAY'S WRITERS Steve Gale, University of Florida, Gainesville January 1980 To be considered for complimentary copies, write to Rick l.eyb, Dept 0-7184 Please include course- name, enrollment, and title of present text JOHN WILEY & SONS, Inc. 605 Third Avenue, New York, N.Y 10016 In Canada: 22 Worcester Road, Rexdale, Ontario 0-7185 
work_pohjq5e4ojbaffootjyykmksq4	----	Lincoln and Shakespeare by Michael Anderegg (review) Lincoln and Shakespeare by Michael Anderegg (review) John F. Andrews Shakespeare Quarterly, Volume 68, Number 1, Spring 2017, pp. 100-102 (Review) Published by Oxford University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ Access provided at 6 Apr 2021 01:59 GMT from Carnegie Mellon University ] https://doi.org/10.1353/shq.2017.0007 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/671220 https://doi.org/10.1353/shq.2017.0007 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/671220 I found particularly appealing Ginsberg’s riffings on, or mantra-like iterations of, particular words and phrases in his lectures; it’s a way for him to make audible Shakespeare’s “funny ear,” “funny mind,” and “funny tongue” (“funny” carrying senses of idiosyncratic, playful, uncanny, queer). And Leinwand speaks grippingly about Berryman’s work on his never-completed edition of King Lear, including his long, carefully penned lists of Shakespearean coinages, and his elaborately evolved emen- dations—for instance, the case where, after much reflection, he finds behind Edgar’s speaking of his father as “poorlie, leed” (Q1A), “parti, eyed” (Q1B), and “poorely led” (Q2 and F), the lost original words, “My father, pearly-ey’d” (4–5). Berryman the fanatical editor becomes a mirror of Berryman the poet “collating bones.” Leinwand hints at what of Shakespeare—and of Shakespearean mad- ness—is doubled in the poet’s frenzied, multiform annotations of his own dark dreams, his tracking in those dreams of “new readings, sophistications, inversions, equivalents, additions, strange variants, corrections, and corruptions” (131). Leinwand suggests that he wants to speak to “any reader” (11) of Shakespeare, even, perhaps, a “common reader” (65) (uncommon as his own writing readers are). At the same time, the idiosyncratic modes of study, response, appropriation, and instruction that he traces in his writers often speak very plainly to the particular work and methods of scholars, editors, and teachers of Shakespeare, even as he shows how that work can be animated by a kind of irregular, obsessive, or halluci- natory energy that puts such work in a different light. The book indeed evokes an orbit of possibilities, strange occasions, where the stakes of our professional work come into play and under scrutiny. I can see myself using the word “funny” a bit more frequently in my Shakespeare classes. Lincoln and Shakespeare. By MICHAEL ANDEREGG. Lawrence: Univer- sity Press of Kansas, 2015. Illus. Pp. xiv + 222. $29.95 cloth. Reviewed by JOHN F. ANDREWS We’ve long known that America’s sixteenth president was deeply influenced by the writings of William Shakespeare. But until now we’ve lacked a comprehensive overview of the ways in which Lincoln acquired and manifested his knowledge of the author whose works he considered most rewarding. It’s therefore a pleasure to welcome Lincoln and Shakespeare. In his preface Michael Anderegg observes that, “although quotations from and citations to Shakespeare’s plays are not abundant in Lincoln’s own writings, he often read from and alluded to Shakespeare in conversation with friends, secre- taries, family members, and other visitors and bystanders who recorded their impressions in diaries and letters as well as, in later years, essays and memoirs” (xii). Many of these recollections appear reliable, but Anderegg identifies others that need to be treated with caution. He goes on to demonstrate secure knowledge of the Shakespeare editions available to Lincoln and the selections Lincoln would have found in popular textbooks (“readers”) and reference sources. He draws on congressional debates, newspaper cartoons, and other materials to illustrate how 100 SHAKESPEARE QUARTERLY easily passages could be invoked to make rhetorical points and skewer political opponents. And he explores the roles that lecturers such as Ralph Waldo Emerson played in making the poet accessible, even in communities as small as Lincoln’s Springfield. Anderegg cites historians such as Lawrence Levine and Charles Shat- tuck as he traces the evolution of nineteenth-century performance styles, touring practices, and audience expectations. And he quotes extensively from Douglas L. Wilson as he documents Lincoln’s awareness of the many ways in which produc- tions he experienced diverged from texts he knew, such as Richard III, 1 Henry IV, The Merchant of Venice, and Hamlet. In 1863 a letter that Lincoln wrote to James H. Hackett in gratitude for a col- lection of Notes and Comments the actor had presented him made its way into the New York Herald. Anderegg quotes the chief executive’s characteristically self-effac- ing remarks to Hackett, which enumerate “Lear, Richard Third, Henry Eighth, Hamlet, and especially Macbeth” as plays that Lincoln particularly cherished (85). Anderegg then offers a cogent analysis of Lincoln’s preference for “the soliloquy in Hamlet commencing ‘O, my offence is rank,’” which the president found more moving than “that commencing ‘To be, or not to be’” (85). He goes on to discuss Lincoln’s observations about “the opening speech of Richard the Third,” focusing not only on the president’s desire to hear Hackett “pronounce” the soliloquy but also on portrait painter Francis Carpenter’s glowing praise for Lincoln’s own recita- tion of the title character’s famous lines. Anderegg finds Lincoln to be a discriminating reader. And he notes that a presi- dent “frustrated at the high-handed manner in which theatrical practitioners” of his day “handled Shakespeare’s texts” (131) was generally happier when he could ponder the plays either in solitude or in conversation with friends than when he was com- pelled to fidget through ineptly truncated or egregiously augmented versions of them in performance. But if Lincoln valued Shakespeare primarily as a source of contemplative reflection, this predilection did not keep him away from Washington’s bustling theaters. Leonard Grover and John T. Ford vied for the honor of having the president and his guests in attendance, and Lincoln sampled a diversity of offerings in both venues, among them melodramas like The Marble Heart (in which a menac- ing John Wilkes Booth performed before him on 9 November 1863) and farces like Our American Cousin (in which the same actor interrupted a popular comedy with what he regarded as a more “lofty scene” on 14 April 1865). Yet as much as he enjoyed what we would now classify as light entertainment, the president was most inclined to renderings of Shakespeare, because, even with their imperfections, such productions gave him a chance “to test his own sense of what the plays meant and how they should be performed” (108). Anderegg writes at length about what Lincoln was likely to have encountered when he saw such performers as Edwin Booth, Charlotte Cushman, E. L. Daven- port, or Edwin Forrest. He reminds us that the president “came of age at a time when Shakespeare’s plays were becoming central to American popular culture and simultaneously beginning to be recognized as the prime representative of high cul- ture” (141). And he sums up his conclusions with persuasive elegance: “In his Shakespearean ‘journey,’ if it may be so called, Lincoln’s interests and activities BOOK REVIEWS 101 moved parallel with Shakespeare’s integration into the texture of America’s cultural life; posthumously, Lincoln would himself become a notably visible embodiment of that transformation” (141). Anderegg ends with a brief epilogue about “Lincoln, Shakespeare, and the Brothers Booth” (142). He includes a photograph of John Wilkes, Edwin, and Junius Brutus Booth the younger that was taken on or near 25 November 1864, when the three brothers presented Julius Caesar in New York’s Winter Garden Theatre as a three-hundredth anniversary benefit to fund a Shakespeare statue in Central Park. Surprisingly, Anderegg says very little about this historic event, and he makes no mention of the May 1872 festivities at which Edwin helped dedicate sculptor J. Q. A. Ward’s completed Shakespeare memorial. Anderegg does call attention to the irony of a comparison to Brutus that appeared “on the front of the Paymaster’s office, adjoining Grover’s Theatre” (144) when Lincoln’s funeral procession passed that location after the assassination. This banner proclaimed that the president’s “life was gentle, and the elements so mix’d in him that nature might stand up and say to all the world: This was a man” (144). Anderegg identifies several echoes of Julius Caesar and other Shakespeare works in the pocket diary that John Wilkes Booth had been annotating during the days that led up to his capture on 26 April 1865 (146). And he emphasizes an evocative pas- sage from Macbeth (1.7.16–25) that Lincoln had shared with his traveling com- panions (less than a week before the President’s final visit to Ford’s Theatre)—a quotation that “became,” in the words of Richard Wightman Fox, “the virtually offi- cial slogan of the mourning period” (144). Anderegg offers no mention of numerous Shakespeare echoes that might have provided deeper insight into the president’s tragic demise and its bitter conse- quences. But despite these omissions and a few minor errors, his volume is “a most welcome addition to the Lincoln literature” (Michael Burlingame) and “a notable contribution” to our understanding of “the reception and performance of Shake- speare in nineteenth-century America” (Russell Jackson). Religion Around Shakespeare. By PETER IVER KAUFMAN. University Park: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 2013. Pp. viii + 256. $34.95 cloth. Stages of Engagement: Drama and Religion in Post-Reformation Eng- land. Edited by JAMES D. MARDOCK and KATHRYN R. MCPHER- SON. Pittsburgh, PA: Duquesne University Press, 2014. Pp. viii + 352. $70.00 cloth. Reviewed by KRISTEN POOLE The “religious turn” in early modern literary studies is still going strong. Both Peter Iver Kaufman’s Religion Around Shakespeare and James D. Mardock and Kathryn R. McPherson’s essay collection, Stages of Engagement: Drama and Religion in Post-Reformation England, contribute to this turn and reflect on the direction of 102 SHAKESPEARE QUARTERLY 
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work_prhcxmj2lfgura6jpzx2tayfgy	----	94635 39..43 Visually discerning the curvature of the Earth David K. Lynch Thule Scientific, P.O. Box 953, Topanga, California 90290, USA (thule@earthlink.net) Received 9 April 2008; accepted 28 April 2008; posted 1 May 2008 (Doc. ID 94635); published 25 July 2008 Reports and photographs claiming that visual observers can detect the curvature of the Earth from high mountains or high-flying commercial aircraft are investigated. Visual daytime observations show that the minimum altitude at which curvature of the horizon can be detected is at or slightly below 35; 000 ft, providing that the field of view is wide (60°) and nearly cloud free. The high-elevation horizon is almost as sharp as the sea-level horizon, but its contrast is less than 10% that of the sea-level horizon. Photographs purporting to show the curvature of the Earth are always suspect because virtually all camera lenses project an image that suffers from barrel distortion. To accurately assess curvature from a photograph, the horizon must be placed precisely in the center of the image, i.e., on the optical axis. © 2008 Optical Society of America OCIS codes: 010.7295, 000.2060, 000.2700, 010.1290. 1. Introduction The health of the eye seems to demand a horizon. We are never tired, so long as we can see far enough.— Ralph Waldo Emerson [1] The first direct visual detection of the curvature of the horizon has been widely attributed to Auguste Piccard and Paul Kipfer on 27 May 1931 [2]. They reported seeing it from a hydrogen-filled balloon at an elevation of 15; 787 m (51; 783 ft) over Germany and Austria. On 11 November 1935, Albert W. Stevens and Orville A. Anderson became the first people to photograph the curvature [3]. They were flying in the helium-filled Explorer II balloon during a record-breaking flight to an altitude of 22; 066 m (72; 395 ft) over South Dakota. Other claims have been made as to being the first to see the curvature of the Earth, but they seem to have come long after visual curvature had been established [4]. Since that time, countless people have claimed to be able to discern the curvature of the Earth as an upwardly arched horizon from high mountains or commercial aircraft. Some claim to see it from sea le- vel or relatively low elevations [5]. We know that if we get high enough (i.e., from space), the curvature of the Earth is evident, but commercial aircraft sel- dom exceed altitudes of 40; 000 ft (1 ft ! 0:3048 m). Interviews with pilots and high-elevation travelers revealed that few if any could detect curvature below about 50; 000 ft. High-altitude physicist and experi- enced sky observer David Gutierrez [6] reported that as his B-57 ascends, the curvature of the horizon does not become readily sensible until about 50; 000 ft and that at 60; 000 ft the curvature is obvious. Having talked to many other high fliers (SR-71, U2, etc.), Gutierrez confirms that his sense of the curvature is the same as theirs. Passengers on the Concorde (60; 000 ft) routinely marveled at the curvature of the Earth. Gutierrez believes that if the field of view (FOV) is wide enough, it might be possible to detect curvature from lower altitudes. The author has also talked to many commercial pilots, and they report that from elevations around 35; 000 ft, they cannot see the curvature. When trying to understand the perception of a curved horizon, two issues must be kept in mind. First, a large fraction of people wear eye glasses. Eye glasses produce a variety of distortions when the observer is not looking through the center part of the lens. Second, above the altitude of Mt. Everest, no observer can look directly at the horizon—he must look through a window or canopy. Plane- parallel windows like those on most aircraft will 0003-6935/08/340H39-05$15.00/0 © 2008 Optical Society of America 1 December 2008 / Vol. 47, No. 34 / APPLIED OPTICS H39 not render a flat horizon curved, but a curved window or canopy will. What do we mean by “horizon”? Usually we mean the apparent boundary between the sea and sky, or distant landscape and sky. But Bohren and Fraser [7] showed that an observer at an altitude greater than a mile or so cannot see the hard Earth’s horizon, i.e. the line-of-sight tangent point. Rayleigh scattering and scattering by aerosols usually reduce the height to less than a mile. The apparent horizon from com- mercial altitudes is not a sharp line, but rather a low- contrast transition from bright sky above to a slightly darker “sky” below. The location of this boundary is difficult to define (Fig. 1.) Comparing the two images in Fig. 1 reveals a cur- ious contrast reversal. The sky is generally brighter above the horizon at sea level, but darker above the horizon at high elevation. From sea level most of the atmosphere is above us, and so we see a lot of scat- tered light. From a high elevation, most of the atmo- sphere is below us, and a darker sky results. The contrast reversal is further accentuated by the sea’s being relatively dark, while from high elevation the air and clouds below the horizon are relatively bright. Figure 2 shows vertical scans through the two images. The brightness differences are obvious, as is the am- plitude of the brightness changes at the two horizons. The brightness change for the high-elevation horizon is less than 10% that of the sea-level horizon. What the observer perceives as the horizon is ac- tually a transition from an optically thick line of sight through atmosphere below the “horizon” to an optically thin line of sight above the “horizon.” This apparent horizon is produced entirely within the atmosphere, and the hard Earth plays little or no role in its formation. The actual location probably corresponds to a line of sight with an optical depth near unity, which passes several miles above the sur- face of the Earth. From space this elevation is about 12 miles (see Appendix A; 1 mile ! 1:609 km). Twelve miles (19 km) is about 0.3% of the Earth’s radius, too small to influence the curvature discussed in this study. Another potentially relevant issue in modeling the horizon’s curvature is the distance to the horizon. As French [8] showed, refraction changes the distance to the horizon by a small amount relative to its geo- metric distance. Refraction may displace the location of the optical-depth-unity position in the sky, but it plays no role in the actual angular curvature of the horizon for two reasons: (1) we are not concerned with the altitude (or zenith distance) of the horizon, and (2) from high altitude, the hard horizon that French discusses cannot be seen [7]. Reports of curvature from high mountains and com- mercial jets are often supported with photographs showing the putative curvature [5]. Such photographs are suspect, as Figs. 3 and 4 show. Here I photo- graphed the horizon from an elevation of about 8 ft (essentially sea level) using a Canon S70 PowerShot digital camera, like many commonly available cam- eras. The horizon was placed near the top, bottom, and center of the image. The barrel distortion is evi- dent: lines above the center of the picture are arched upward (anticlinally) and those below center are arched downward (synclinally). Barrel distortion oc- curs when the pupil is placed away from the lens, a common technique used in camera lens manufactur- ing toproduce a flat field. In view of theability to make the horizon curved both upward and downward, and with the tendency of casual photographers to place Fig. 1. The horizon from sea level (left) and from an elevation of 35; 000 ft (right). Note the sharpness of the sea-level horizon and how indistinct the horizon from high elevation is. Also, note the overall contrast reversal between the two images. From sea level the sky is bright and the water is dark. But from high elevation the sky is dark and the sea and clouds are bright. Fig. 2. (Color online) Vertical scans through the two images from Fig. 1. Also shown is a small strip from each image placed to match the scans. The sea-level horizon is sharp and has a high contrast. The transition from sea to sky is only about two pixels wide, cor- responding to about 2 arc min. The angular resolution of the per- fect eye is about 1 arc min, so virtually every naked-eye observer will see the horizon as absolutely sharp. The high-elevation hori- zon is almost as sharp, but its contrast is low, less than 10% of the sea-level horizon. The sharpness of the high-elevation horizon is a surprise in view of the fact that it is formed entirely within the atmosphere and is not a hard edge like the sea level horizon. The scans were made from JPEG images, and such images contain some compression. The signal level is only relative and, though not of photometric quality, is nonetheless monotonic and nearly linear with scene brightness. H40 APPLIED OPTICS / Vol. 47, No. 34 / 1 December 2008 the horizon near the top of the image, where it ap- pears curved upward like it would appear from very high elevation, we can dismiss most of the purported photographs of the curvature of the Earth as barrel distortion. In this paper I investigate claims that the eye can detect the curvature of the horizon by using geome- trical optics, simple models of the eye, and known perception effects. While the curvature of the Earth has been known since ancient time based on sailboat disappearances over the horizon and the shadow of the Earth cast onto the Moon during a lunar eclipse, I will not discuss these matters. Detecting the curva- ture of the horizon directly is a complex issue, and it is further aggravated by psychological factors: much has been written about the evocative effects of seeing the curvature of the Earth from space. People hope and often expect to see it and so they do, whether they actually do or not. 2. Visually Detect the Earth’s Curvature I first examined the horizon from commercial jet air- craft. While there was a general sense of the horizon, actually identifying the horizon’s location was diffi- cult. It was a very low-contrast boundary in a region of the sky where there were much higher-contrast changes. There were almost always clouds on the horizon that prevented accurate horizon location. When the horizon was clear, detecting curvature from around 35; 000 ft was relatively easy, providing that a wide, unobstructed FOV was available. With a horizontal FOV of 90° or more, the curvature was subtle but unmistakable. Under similar conditions with a FOV smaller than about 60°, the curvature was not discernible. Thus, visually detecting the cur- vature would seem to depend on both the actual cur- vature and the FOV. It seems likely that the curvature can be detected at elevations lower than 35; 000 ft, thus opening the door to the possibility of seeing it from high mountains. Mountaintops have very wide FOVs and thus may af- ford better viewing opportunities than aircraft. I regularly visit Mauna Kea (elevation 13; 796 ft ! 4205 m) and Haleakala (elevation 10; 223 ft ! 3116 m). From here,a relatively unobstructed horizon is visible in several directions. I was unable to con- vince myself that I could detect horizon curvature. Thus the altitude necessary to visually detect curva- ture would seem to be between about 14,000 and 35; 000 ft. 3. Photographing and Measuring the Curvature Figure 5 shows a photograph taken over the Pacific Ocean somewhere between Los Angeles, California, and Kahului, Maui. The image is 62:7° ! 47:1°. Care was taken to place the perceived horizon precisely in the center of the frame (plus or minus a few pixels, or about 3 arc min). As noted earlier, visual observa- tions found that the curvature was subtle but dis- cernible. The image was imported into a drawing program, and three small dots were placed on the horizon: one each at the left and right edge of the im- age, and one near the center. A line was drawn be- tween the left and right dots and was found to fall slightly below the center dot, a clear indication of cur- vature (inset in Fig. 5). The measured distance (sa- gitta) was 0:51°, or about 17 pixels (note that the Fig. 3. (Color online) Apparent curvature of the horizon. Top, hor- izon placed near the top of the frame; middle, horizon placed in the center of the frame; bottom, horizon placed near the bottom of the frame. The apparent curvature is due to barrel distortion. These three images are horizontally compressed in Fig. 4 to enhance the visibility of the barrel distortion. Fig. 4. (Color online) Apparent curvature of the horizon. On the left, the full frames are shown. On the right are the horizon photos cropped and compressed 10 : 1 horizontally to enhance the barrel distortion. 1 December 2008 / Vol. 47, No. 34 / APPLIED OPTICS H41 horizontal angle from the limb center is half of the FOV, or about 31:3°). 4. Model of the Earth’s Curvature To interpret the measurements above, a simple geo- metrical model of the viewing conditions was con- structed. Figure 6 shows an observer’s view of the Earth (radius R) from an arbitrary elevation h above the surface. The amount by which the apparent Earth limb falls below the horizon S as a function of horizontal distance x from the vertical is apparent by inspection: S ! R ! "R2 ! x2#1=2: "1# To convert from linear dimensions to angular di- mensions, we need only divide each quantity by the distance to the horizon: D " "2Rh $ h2#1=2: "2# I assumed that the distance to the horizon was the same at every azimuth, i.e., at every horizon point in the image. I then calculated a family of limb cur- vatures for various observer elevations. Figure 7 shows the family of curvatures as a func- tion of azimuth with observer height as a parameter. The asterisk shows the measurement discussed above for h ! 35; 000 ft, a horizontal FOV of 62:7° (2!) and observed S ! 0:51°. The measurement agrees well with the theoretical expectations. Sev- eral other measurements from slightly different ele- vations were made, and the findings were consistent. In an attempt to further populate Fig. 7 with obser- vations from significantly higher and lower eleva- tions, I asked the pilots to change elevations; my requests were ignored. 5. Summary and Conclusions In view of the agreement between the visual obser- vations, measurements of the photographs, and the theoretical curvatures, it seems well established that the curvature of the Earth is reasonably well under- stood and can be measured from photographs. The threshold elevation for detecting curvature would seem to be somewhat less than 35; 000 ft but not as low as 14; 000 ft. Photographically, curvature may be measurable as low as 20; 000 ft. Appendix A The estimate of a 12 mile elevation for the apparent horizon discerned from high altitude that was men- tioned Section 1 is based on the following argument. The vertical optical depth from sea level to space at 0:55 μm is about 0.13, corresponding to 1 air mass [9] Fig. 5. (Color online) This picture shows a photograph of the hor- izon from an elevation of 35; 000 ft and with a horizontal FOV of 62:7°. Also shown are the three reference points defining the hor- izon, a horizontal line connect the left- and right-hand points, and the measured amount of sagitta (see inset for a closeup of the sa- gitta measurement). Fig. 6. Model of the horizon and the Earth’s curvature as seen by an observer from an arbitrary elevation h above the surface. The amount S (sagitta) by which the apparent Earth limb falls below the horizon is easily calculable: S ! R ! "R2 ! X2#1=2. To convert this linear dimension to an angular dimension, we need only divide each quantity by the distance to the horizon D " "2Rh $ h2#1=2). Fig. 7. Model calculations of the curvature of the Earth from var- ious elevations. The curve for an elevation of 35; 000 ft is the thick line, and the asterisk shows the measurement from Fig. 5. H42 APPLIED OPTICS / Vol. 47, No. 34 / 1 December 2008 The horizon air mass for a sea-level observer is about 38, or 76 for a passage through the entire atmosphere tangential to the surface. This corresponds to an op- tical depth of 76 ! 0:13 ! 9:88. From space an obser- ver would find the apparent horizon (limb) at an optical depth of approximately unity along that tan- gential line of site. Since the atmosphere is exponen- tial with height, we can estimate the elevation E of the horizon seen by a high-altitude observer in space by scaling the optical depth to unity, using the den- sity scale height of the atmosphere, i.e., 9:88 exp"!E=ho# ! 1:0; where ho is the scale height of the atmosphere, taken here as 8:4 km (5:2 miles). Solving the above equation for E yields 19:2 km, or 11:9 miles. I thank David Gutierrez, Lawrence S. Bernstein, Andrew Young, and William Livingston for many useful discussions about the horizon. References and Notes 1. R. W. Emerson, Nature: Addresses, and Lectures, new and re- vised ed. (Houghton, Mifflin, 1884), p. 22.. 2. Piccard is widely believed to be the first. There are many re- ferences to his achievement on the Internet, most of them cer- tainly derivative. I contacted the Piccard family and they were aware of the claim but had no hard evidence or literature cita- tion backing it up. 3. S. W. Bilsing and O. W. Caldwell “Scientific events,” Science 82 586–587 (1935). 4. A brass plaque placed at the Lamont Odett vista point in Palmdale, Calif., by E. Vitus Clampus claims that X-1A pilot Arthur “Kitt” Murray was the first person to see the curvature of the Earth. The plaque does not cite the year or altitude, but, according to the NASA archives, it was probably on 26 August 1954 when Murray took the X-1A to a record-breaking altitude of 90; 440 ft (27; 566 m). 5. Entering “curvature of the earth” into the image search using any search engine will find thousands of images. Most photo- graphers place the horizon near the top of the frame in order to capture the scene of interest below the horizon. The result- ing barrel distortion produces a pronounced upward (anticli- nal) curvature of the horizon that most people incorrectly interpret as the curvature of the Earth. 6. D. Gutierrez, djgutierrez1@verizon.net (personal communica- tion, 2007). 7. C. F. Bohren and A. B. Fraser, “At what altitude does the horizon cease to be visible?” Am. J. Phys. 54, 222–227 (1986). 8. A. P. French, “How far away is the horizon?” Am. J. Phys. Vol. 50, 795–799 (1982). 9. E. J. McCartney, Optics of the Atmosphere (Wiley, 1976), Fig, 4.8, p 205. 1 December 2008 / Vol. 47, No. 34 / APPLIED OPTICS H43 
work_prpq3u7jabhcxidy7ldh2agcvu	----	UBC Equity, Diversity and Intercultural Understanding Colloquium 2012 April 05, 2012—The Longhouse Thank you, Larry [Grant], and thank you all; it’s an honour to have been invited to speak at the inaugural Colloquium on Equity, Diversity and Intercultural Understanding, and to celebrate this significant ‘first’ with you. Martin Luther King, Jr. said, “We who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive.” Neglect of the needs of migrant students in our public schools. Student engagement theory that has no research basis in the experiences of international students. The line between education and voyeurism in using guest speakers to teach trans topics. The media’s responsibility for reinforcing negative perceptions of Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 2 Canadian racial groups. Human rights issues in acute hospital care for patients with disabilities. The lack of heritage language education in BC schools. Rates, and effects, of Aboriginal male incarceration. The integrity of place-based learning at a university that rests on traditional Aboriginal lands.1 My gut clenches and at the same time my heart sings when I look over the topics to be presented today. The most valuable exercise a university can undertake is genuine dialogue. What comes up for discussion today may be frightening, even threatening; ideas may be observed, analyzed, questioned, set aside, even jettisoned. But not the communication itself. And perhaps the higher the tension, the greater the potential reward. 1 Note: All of these are paraphrased from the topics of papers to be presented by graduate students at this Colloquium. Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 3 Tension is defined as “a stretching,” or “the condition of being stretched.” And we are. All 19,000 faculty and staff, all 55,000 students. All of UBC, stretched between our present state and the commitment we made, the promise we made to our stakeholders and to the community we serve, to become an institution of intercultural understanding and fluency. We committed to nothing less than a re-imagining of the University—an act of great creativity and courage that requires, paradoxically, a great deal of tension. Artists, perhaps better than most people, understand the dynamic energy inherent in tension, and its power to provoke a creative response. Musician James Taylor described music as a huge release of the tension between his vision and what he was able to convey with instruments and voice. Actor Annette Bening Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 4 described movies as lightning in a bottle, waiting for a spark of tension from the actors to illuminate the story and ignite the action. Choreographer Twyla Tharp talked about the energy that comes from tension, and said that when directed properly, it can result in laughing together! And poet Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “The world is all gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck.” UBC is home to every imaginable form of diversity, including gender, sexual orientation, indigenousness, mental and physical ability, religion, racial, ethno-cultural, socio-economic status, regional, and above all intellectual diversity. All gates, all opportunities, strings of tension waiting to be struck. But contact with diversity does not in itself produce intercultural understanding. Tension, in and of itself, does not engender a creative response. Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 5 For UBC to remain a global leader among institutions of higher learning, intercultural experiences must be intentionally and structurally embedded in both the academics and the operations of the University. So when we opened the office of Intercultural Understanding Strategy Development, our first task was to test our assumption that what UBC needed was more such experiences. We hired a Director. We conducted a literature review and a University-wide activity audit. And what we learned surprised us. In the ‘good news’ category, we discovered within the first two months that there were more activities, initiatives, trainings, and programs happening, at every level, than we could actually capture. Just as one example, we found 14 training programs in intercultural fluency! In the ‘bad news’ category, within the same period of time, we quickly realized that literally Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 6 all of it was occurring in isolation. Of those 14 training programs, for example, not one of them knew the other 13 existed. The work that lies ahead of us falls not into the realm of generating more activity; rather, it is now a matter of institutionalizing these scattered but significant successes, providing infrastructure and resources, tapping the best practices they’ve created, and implementing them across the University as a whole. Student Services is training staff advisors to work with in- residence and international students using the very latest theories and methods pertaining to equity, diversity, and intercultural fluency. But they don’t have the capacity to train everyone. Likewise, the First Nations House of Learning is the centre of excellence, bar none, for creating a safe environment for difficult conversations. But not all the tough conversations that need to take place at UBC can happen in the Longhouse. The Centre for Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 7 Intercultural Communication, in Continuing Studies, offers a full range of courses and a Certificate in Intercultural Studies. But there is no equivalent for-credit program at UBC. How do we parlay these successes into University-wide practices? How do we avoid adding to the heavy workloads both staff and faculty already bear? How do we not turn everything into another workshop? Most of us are workshopped out. We are almost certainly pilot-projected out. How do we ensure that the critical research you’re conducting, and will present here today, reaches not just this roomful of people but a campus-ful? A city- or province- or country-ful? I’m going to leave you with these questions, because I don’t have answers yet. I hope you’ll hear them as a challenge. You are our Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 8 brightest and best. I invite you to come back to my office, or to the Equity office or the Intercultural Strategy office, with ideas so bold they scare you. Ideas threaded with strings of tension waiting to be struck. You are learned enough to be able to play a leading role in creating systemic change; unfettered enough in your thinking to be relatively fearless; and creative and committed enough to direct that tension toward positive change. It’s a powerful combination. I have said in the past that Canadian universities too often shy away from the social realities of deep diversity, prizing comfort over robust and challenging debate. But not here, not today. From what I have already seen, I expect the ideas you have to share today will make more than a few people tense. May your guts Equity and Diversity Colloquium April 05, 2012 Stephen J. Toope—Page 9 clench and your hearts sing! And may your minds always be asking how we take the next step forward. Thank you. -30- 
work_ps4gycfwynaffj5qgey6lb7iq4	----	Frontiers in Endovascular and Interventional Neurology (FEIN): Grand Challenges – Looking Ahead | Semantic Scholar Skip to search formSkip to main content> Semantic Scholar's Logo Search Sign InCreate Free Account You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. DOI:10.3389/fneur.2010.00013 Corpus ID: 35545912Frontiers in Endovascular and Interventional Neurology (FEIN): Grand Challenges – Looking Ahead @article{Zaidat2010FrontiersIE, title={Frontiers in Endovascular and Interventional Neurology (FEIN): Grand Challenges – Looking Ahead}, author={O. Zaidat and C. Gomez}, journal={Frontiers in Neurology}, year={2010}, volume={1} } O. Zaidat, C. Gomez Published 2010 Medicine Frontiers in Neurology With great challenges comes great opportunities and we personally are greatly optimistic about the prospect of field of endovascular and interventional neurology field. This field has been paved by pioneers from Neurology, Neurosurgery and Radiology worldwide who put us at a very unique stage ready for the next level of achievements and milestone by motivated neuro-interventionalist, vascular neurologists, neuro-intensivists and vascular neurosurgeons worldwide. The past two decades have seen… Expand View on PubMed frontiersin.org Save to Library Create Alert Cite Launch Research Feed Share This Paper 1 Citations View All Topics from this paper Neurology speciality Cerebrovascular Disorders Registration Science of neurosurgery Interventional procedure One Citation Citation Type Citation Type All Types Cites Results Cites Methods Cites Background Has PDF Publication Type Author More Filters More Filters Filters Sort by Relevance Sort by Most Influenced Papers Sort by Citation Count Sort by Recency An improved elastase-based method to create a saccular aneurysm rabbit model Yubo Wang, Chi Ma, +7 authors Q. Luo Medicine British journal of neurosurgery 2013 6 Save Alert Research Feed References SHOWING 1-8 OF 8 REFERENCES Performance and training standards for endovascular ischemic stroke treatment P. Meyers, H. C. Schumacher, +16 authors O. Zaidat Medicine Journal of NeuroInterventional Surgery 2009 38 PDF View 2 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed Qualification Requirements for Performing Neurointerventional Procedures: A Report of the Practice Guidelines Committee of the American Society of Neuroimaging and the Society of Vascular and Interventional Neurology A. Qureshi, A. Abou-Chebl, T. Jovin Medicine Journal of neuroimaging : official journal of the American Society of Neuroimaging 2008 38 View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed International Subarachnoid Aneurysm Trial (ISAT) of neurosurgical clipping versus endovascular coiling in 2143 patients with ruptured intracranial aneurysms: a randomised trial A. Molyneux, International Subarachnoid Aneurysm Trial Collaborative Group Medicine The Lancet 2002 2,943 PDF View 2 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed The Interventional Management of Stroke (IMS) II Study. A. Rabinstein Medicine Stroke 2007 227 Save Alert Research Feed Randomized Trial of Intraarterial Infusion of Urokinase Within 6 Hours of Middle Cerebral Artery Stroke: The Middle Cerebral Artery Embolism Local Fibrinolytic Intervention Trial (MELT) Japan A. Ogawa, E. Mori, +6 authors T. Inoue Medicine Stroke 2007 451 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Intra-arterial prourokinase for acute ischemic stroke. The PROACT II study: a randomized controlled trial. Prolyse in Acute Cerebral Thromboembolism. A. Furlan, R. Higashida, +9 authors F. Rivera Medicine JAMA 1999 2,894 PDF View 2 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed International Subarachnoid Aneurysm Trial (ISAT) Collaborative Group 2002 Intra-arterial prourokinase for acute ischemic stroke. P. Akins Medicine JAMA 2000 835 View 2 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed Related Papers Abstract Topics 1 Citations 8 References Related Papers Stay Connected With Semantic Scholar Sign Up About Semantic Scholar Semantic Scholar is a free, AI-powered research tool for scientific literature, based at the Allen Institute for AI. Learn More → Resources DatasetsSupp.aiAPIOpen Corpus Organization About UsResearchPublishing PartnersData Partners   FAQContact Proudly built by AI2 with the help of our Collaborators Terms of Service•Privacy Policy The Allen Institute for AI By clicking accept or continuing to use the site, you agree to the terms outlined in our Privacy Policy, Terms of Service, and Dataset License ACCEPT & CONTINUE 
work_psvunlbkgrahjdrouojvvyifrm	----	is left desiring more distinctions between Coleridge and Emerson, it is only because Harvey has established their deep similarities and their importance to Transatlantic Transcendentalism so fully. Jonathan Koefoed University of Texas at Austin, Austin, TX, USA jkoefoed@austin.utexas.edu © 2015, Jonathan Koefoed http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14794012.2015.1088324 Atlantic citizens: nineteenth-century American writers at work in the world, Leslie Elizabeth Eckel, Edinburgh, University Press, 2013, 240 pp., £70, $120 (hardback), ISBN-10:074866937X, ISBN-13:978-0748669370, including notes, bibliography, and index Although Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Margaret Fuller, Frederick Douglass, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Grace Greenwood, and Walt Whitman as a group make strange bed- fellows, Eckel asserts that their identity as citizens of the world rather than proponents of American exceptionalism reveals them to be likely companions after all. Some of these writers attained ‘partial cosmopolitanism’, what Kwame Anthony Appiah, notes Eckel, describes as a combination ‘that preserves its partiality to kindred, home, and nation even as it looks beyond those limits for opportunities to know and to serve others’ (8). Looking beyond those limits is the primary focus of the study undertaken by Eckel, who summons an impressive variety of written and oral sources that have not received widespread attention: ‘Transcripts of speeches, newspa- per articles, editorial columns, personal journals and letters, teaching notes, juvenile magazines, and critical reviews’ (14). By juxtaposing these extraliterary sources along- side the lengthier works on which the reputation of these writers rests (Longfellow’s Evangeline, Fuller’s Woman in the Nineteenth Century, Douglass’s autobiographies, Emerson’s Nature and the Essays, Greenwood’s eponymous Greenwood Leaves, and Whitman’s Leaves of Grass), Eckel illuminates their transatlantic affinities, albeit in varying degrees, which have largely gone without notice. As a result, Eckel’s contri- bution to the Edinburgh Studies in Transatlantic Literatures offers a fresh perspective on the ties that bind these disparate nineteenth-century American writers together and suggests important continuities between them and two contemporary writers: the Car- ibbean-American novelist Paule Marshall in her memoir, Triangular Road, and the journalist Adam Gopnik in his two essay collections, Paris to the Moon and Americans in Paris. Eckel begins with Longfellow whose comment in ‘The Schoolmaster’ undergirds her entire project: ‘I said with the Cosmopolite,’ ‘The world is a kind of book, in which he, who has seen his own country only, has read but one page’ (19). Longfellow clearly had read multiple pages by virtue of his extensive travel abroad, his command of Greek and Latin as well as several modern European languages, his translation of texts into English (e.g. Dante’s Divine Comedy), and his many textbooks, all of which merit the designation of Longfellow ‘as a founder of American comparative literary Book Reviews 387 mailto:jkoefoed@gmail.com studies’, according to Eckel (21). She also finds that the transatlantic focus in Evange- line counters the idea of manifest destiny promoted by many writers of the period. Although none of the remaining five writers in her study embraced transatlanticism as fully as Longfellow, two of them – Margaret Fuller and Frederick Douglass – excoriated the USA for failing to live up to its ideals by comparing it unfavourably with other countries. Eckel highlights Fuller’s notion of ‘cosmopolitian patriots’ to suggest that the ideals of world citizen and national patriot might be successfully com- bined or at least alternate. The latter seems evident in Douglass, who used political transatlanticism to ‘skewer’ America but did not allow it to keep him from later reclaiming himself as a citizen of the USA despite his doubts about whether he actu- ally had a country, as Eckel acknowledges. The global reach of Emerson’s transatlanti- cism, however, extended far beyond Longfellow’s comparativist claims or the political bent of Fuller and Douglass’s interests, making Emerson – at least in Eckel’s hands – not so much a cosmopolitan citizen of the world as a citizen of the cosmos. As for Greenwood and Whitman, entrepreneurship appears to have motivated what Eckel calls their ‘transatlantic professionalism’: Greenwood made many trips abroad to promote her juvenile magazine, The Little Pilgrim, and other writings whereas Whitman, whose travels outside the U.S. were limited to Canada, welcomed the opportunity to widen his readership for which he was greatly indebted to the London publication of Michael Rossetti’s selected Poems of Walt Whitman in 1868. In casting Whitman as a poet without honour in his own country, Rossetti depicted England as culturally superior to the USA in much the same way, argues Eckel, that Fuller and Douglass enlisted social and political developments abroad to chal- lenge the ideals espoused back home. While Eckel’s treatment of the transatlantic affi- nities of these six writers may be a bit of a stretch in some instances, her study nevertheless deepens our understanding of the period and of our own by exploring how these writers became part of an emergent internationalism. Constance J. Post Department of English, Iowa State University, Ames, IA 50011-1201, USA cjpost@iastate.edu © 2015, Constance J. Post http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14794012.2015.1101257 388 Book Reviews 
work_ptwezi7earglzgfqsbvtneip7e	----	erj01872-2012 10..11 IN MEMORIAM Chris T. Bolliger: keep him in your mind Felix J.F. Herth T he community of respiratory medicine is shocked and saddened by the unexpected and untimely death of Chris Bolliger who died on November 2, 2012, in Cape Town, South Africa. Up until his death he was the Director and Head of the Respiratory Research Unit and Co-head of the Division of Pulmonology of the Department of Medicine at the University of Stellenbosch, Cape Town, South Africa. We have lost a good friend, an experienced researcher, a caring doctor, an excellent teacher and the most wonderful mentor that you could ask for. A complete representation of the life and achievements of Chris Bolliger is not possible. I have highlighted a couple of benchmarks as a reminder. Chris was born and grew up in Switzerland and attended school in Basel. After graduating from high school he went to medical schools in Basel and Lausanne. In 1976 he completed medical school and began his training in internal and pulmonary medicine in Switzerland. In the early1980s he moved to South Africa and in 1989 became an Honoured Baccalaureus in Epidemiology at the University of Stellenbosch. In the same year he moved back to Switzerland and took over a consultant position in the Division of pulmonology at the University Hospital of Basel. In the following years he established the interventional pulmonology service in Basel and started his globally recognised research activities in that field [1]. During this time he finished his PhD and was appointed Associate Professor at the University of Basel. In 1999 he was asked to become Co-chair of the Pulmonology Division and Director of the Respiratory Research Unit at the Faculty of Health Sciences in Cape Town and returned there. In his career he introduced several techniques in the arma- mentarium of our interventional options, but he was also active in most areas in pulmonary medicine. He continued to expand his activities in all the different areas of pulmonary medicine yet remained very active in his initial field of interventional pulmonology. Until his sad death he partici- pated in the development of the new and upcoming technol- ogies and was the key driver of many of these. For example, at the last annual congress of the European Respiratory Society in Vienna in 2012 he presented the first international clinical study evaluating the use of real-time technology for tracking lung tumours during radiation delivery. This pioneering work culminated in a ‘‘first-in-man’’ publication [2]. For his unique work in the field of pulmonology he received constant international recognition. In 2010 he was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Certificate of the World Association of Bronchology and Interventional Pulmonology during their World Congress in Budapest, Hungary. Chris also played an active role in research aimed at smoking control and cessation. In 2012 he co-authored guidelines on smoking cessation in Africa and the Middle East for healthcare providers, focusing on smoking prevention, cessation and the effects of smoking on the health of populations. He also worked as a board member of the Global Healthcare Alliance for Treatment of Tobacco Dependence (GHATTD). Beside the already mentioned emphasis on interventional bronchoscopy and thoracoscopy, one of his interests was cardiopulmonary exercise testing. One of his initial publica- tions is still current and represents an important algorithm [3]. Over the years he has published more than 250 peer-reviewed articles, 14 books and various book chapters. Thoraxklinik, University of Heidelberg, Heidelberg, Germany. CORRESPONDENCE: F.J.F. Herth: Thoraxklinik, University of Heidelberg, Amalienstr. 5, Heidelberg, 69126, Germany. E-mail: felix.herth@thoraxklinik-heidelberg.de FIGURE 1. Chris T. Bolliger. Eur Respir J 2013; 41: 10–11 DOI: 10.1183/09031936.00187212 Copyright�ERS 2013 10 VOLUME 41 NUMBER 1 EUROPEAN RESPIRATORY JOURNAL In 1998, he succeeded Professor Herzog as the Editor in Chief of Respiration [4]. In the following years he developed the journal into one of the leading pulmonary medicine journals. The impact factor increased to 2.4 in 2010 and the numbers of issues grew from six to 12 per year. He introduced the thematic review series, as well as the interventional pulmonology section. In 2002, he formed the successful partnership between Respiration and the European Association for Bronchology and Interventional Pulmonology. In addition to his clinical and research activities he was active politically and helped to form the image of modern pulmonol- ogy. He was an active officer of the European Respiratory Society and became the Head of the Clinical Assembly in 2005. In this position he developed and strengthened the Assembly and succeeded in uniting the diverse interests within it. In 2002, he co-founded the European Association for Bronchology and Interventional Pulmonology. From 2006 to 2012 he was President of the Society and, during this time, he worked hard to develop the Society. With Chris T. Bolliger we all lose a good friend, a caring doctor and an excellent researcher. Personally he helped me in my career as a friend and mentor, selflessly and unrequited. Beside all these activities, family was always important to Chris and he leaves behind a wife and three daughters. And now? We have to remember him by continuing his ideas, activities and dreams. In this way we can keep him alive in our minds. Maybe we have to remember the traditional last slide of his presentations: a view over Cape Town bay from Table Mountain on a sunny day; relaxing and peaceful, but also inspiring and fascinating. It is not length of life, but depth of life. Ralph Waldo Emerson REFERENCES 1 Bolliger CT, Probst R, Tschopp K, et al. Silicon-Endoprothesen in der Behandlung von tracheo-bronchialen Stenosen. Bericht über die ersten 12 von uns mit der Methode behandelten Patienten [Silicone endoprosthesis in the treatment of tracheobronchial stenosis. Report of the first 12 patients treated with this method]. Schweiz Med Wochenschr 1991; 121: 1283–1288. 2 Bolliger C, Nader D, Herth F, et al. Prospective international trial of endobronchial implantation of electromagnetic fiducials for real- time tracking of lung tumors during radiotherapy (RT). European Society Congress. September 2012. P1389. 3 Bolliger CT, Jordan P, Solèr M, et al. Exercise capacity as a predictor of postoperative complications in lung resection candidates. Am J Respir Crit Care Med 1995; 151: 1472–1480. 4 Bolliger CT. A wind of change. Respiration 1998; 65: 2–3. F.J.F. HERTH IN MEMORIAM: C.T. BOLLIGER EUROPEAN RESPIRATORY JOURNAL VOLUME 41 NUMBER 1 11 
work_pux5r3lbunfmvp5f6nfyq6jxu4	----	Error 404 Collaboration Portal “Connect“INCOSE Connect Store Contact us Join us Login Search Full Menu and site Navigation A better world through a systems approach   Collaboration Portal Store Contact us Join us Login Home About Systems Engineering About Systems Engineering┊ SE Vision 2025┊ History of Systems Engineering┊ SE Standards┊ Careers in SE┊ FuSE┊ System and SE Definition About INCOSE INCOSE Privacy Statement┊ INCOSE Membership┊ Leadership & Organization┊ INCOSE Foundation┊ INCOSE Recognition┊ New to INCOSE?┊ Principles & Values┊ Strategic Objectives┊ Transformation┊ Volunteers┊ Policies and Bylaws┊ Contact Us┊ Institute for Technical Leadership┊ Community INCOSE Member Resources Join INCOSE┊ INCOSE Chapters┊ Chapter Resources┊ Working Groups and Technical Operations Initiatives┊ Corporate Advisory Board┊ Academic Council┊ Student Divisions┊ Empowering Women┊ Member Spotlight┊ INCOSE Marketing & Communications┊ Systems Engineering Surveys Products Publications SE Body of Knowledge┊ SE Graduate Reference Curriculum┊ SE Vision 2025┊ Technical Publications┊ Periodicals┊ SE Handbook┊ Papers & Presentations library┊ Webinars┊ Copyrights Systems Engineering Certification Certification Program Overview┊ Certification Levels┊ The Certification Process┊ ASEP┊ CSEP┊ ESEP┊ SEP Learn and Share┊ Certification Forms┊ Certification FAQs┊ Certification Exams┊ Certification Agreements┊ Certification Program History┊ Exam Item Writing┊ Who Runs the Certification Program? ┊ Learn more about INCOSE Certification┊ About the Exam┊ I am a SEP Academic Affairs Academic Council┊ Student Divisions┊ SE Research┊ SE Education Events and News INCOSE Events┊ International Workshop┊ International Symposium┊ INCOSE and SE News┊ Media Contact INCOSE Impact INCOSE Annual Impact Report Error 404 Sorry! That page doesn't seem to exist. The page you are trying to view may have been removed, changed or is temporarily unavailable, but don’t worry. We’ll help get you to the right place. If you reached this page from another part of the website, please contact us so we can correct the error right away - Report a problem. Did you type the URL correctly? You may have typed the address incorrectly. Make sure you have the correct spelling. What would you like to do next? Return to Homepage About Us Contact Us INCOSE - International Council on Systems Engineering 7670 Opportunity Rd, Suite 220 San Diego, CA 92111-2222  USA P 858-541-1725 800-366-1164 info@incose.org Quick Links About INCOSE INCOSE Membership Join or Renew New to INCOSE? Systems Engineering Certification INCOSE Foundation Job Board     Back to Top New to INCOSE? X   Member Login 
work_pzb3adnpafbljg77bbz3vtt7km	----	The United States Sanitary Commission and Thomas Starr King in California, 1861-1864 | California History | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 72, Issue 4 December 1993 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| December 01 1993 The United States Sanitary Commission and Thomas Starr King in California, 1861-1864 Richard H. Peterson Richard H. Peterson Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar California History (1993) 72 (4): 324–337. https://doi.org/10.2307/25177379 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Richard H. Peterson; The United States Sanitary Commission and Thomas Starr King in California, 1861-1864. California History 1 December 1993; 72 (4): 324–337. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/25177379 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search This content is only available via PDF. Copyright 1993 CHS Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content. Sign in Don't already have an account? Register Client Account You could not be signed in. Please check your email address / username and password and try again. Email address / Username ? Password Sign In Reset password Register Sign in via your Institution Sign in via your Institution Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Mexican American Parrhesia at Troy: The Rise of the Chicana/o Movement at the University of Southern California, 1967–1974 Breaking the Eleventh Commandment: Pete McCloskey’s Campaign against the Vietnam War Fishing on Porpoise: The Origins of Dolphin Bycatch in the American Yellowfin Tuna Industry Keepers of the Culture at 3201 Adeline Street: Locating Black Power Theater in Berkeley, California Suburban Cowboy: Country Music, Punk, and the Struggle over Space in Orange County, 1978–1981 Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Online ISSN 2327-1485 Print ISSN 0162-2897 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
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work_q2vaczsp7jdfbmuiobq3ivhm7y	----	ANDY WARHOL: THE LAST DECADE BY JOSEPH D KETNER II defensive earthworks that are still visible in many parts of England. His relation- ship with the English countryside took on a mystical quality, as in Landscape from a Dream (1936–8), with several charac- teristic objects in it: a mirror, a structure of slats which could be a screen except that it has no panels, a large bird, the sea and the coastal cliffs of Dorset, the sun as a large red ball. One very helpful aspect of this book is the practice of printing comments by Nash himself and his wife, Margaret, together with those of an array of friends, critics, exhibition curators, biographers, or art historians with each of the pictures illustrated. These enigmatic images and combinations are like Rorschach tests for art historians, and the comments through the decades are sometimes rather spec- ulative but nevertheless thought provok- ing. Even when they contradict each other they suggest interesting lines of approach. Nash’s own descriptions of his work show how his ideas developed, often from quite mundane country walks or from a sudden perception. Several commentators mention a simi- larity to de Chirico in Nash’s mysterious structures and shadows of off-stage figures. There are also faint echoes of René Magritte. Nash was at heart the kind of Surrealist who sees similarities in objects which others see as merely a rock and a leaf or a tree stump and a cloud. One of his most surreal pictures, Harbour and Room (1931), shows the walls of a room which also seems to contain a harbour, so that a boat seems to be sailing into the room instead of merely being visible from the window. Officially there are 99 figures in the book, separately numbered in the essays and the catalogue proper, but there are more than that because sometimes one number relates to both a picture and an enlarged detail of it. The numbers given in the heading of this article reflect the true number of illustrations, by my count, at least. Suffice it to say that the book is a beautifully illustrated and intelligently organised way in to Nash and his work. sarah lawson Writer and translator ANDY WARHOL: THE LAST DECADE joseph d ketner ii DelMonico Books: Prestel Publishing 2009 d45.00 $60.00 224 pp. 144 col/7 mono illus isbn 978-3-7913-4344-0 M uch has recently been written in consideration of a supposed ‘late style’ in the careers of certain artists. This catalogue, which accompa- nies an exhibition travelling to major US museums in Milwaukee, Fort Worth, Brooklyn, and Baltimore between Septem- ber 2009 and January 2011, is not in that camp. Instead, Warhol is presented here as having had his most prolific and diverse decade of artistic production by reinvent- ing and returning to earlier themes and modes of work, including hand-painted figural work, at the end of his life. The catalogue’s 80 plates thus focus on the following series: the 1978 silkscreen Self-Portraits; the 1978 Oxidation Paintings (urine on metallic pigment); the 1978–80 Shadow Paintings; the 1979 Big Retrospective Painting; the 1983 Yarn Paintings; the 1984 Rorschach Paintings; the 1984–6 paintings in collaboration with Jean-Michel Basquiat and Francesco Clemente; and finally, the 1986 Self-Portraits, Camouflage and Last Supper paintings. By any measure this is a prodigious output, especially consid- ering that nearly all of it is in very large format. The catalogue’s argument in regard to the proper orientation from which to consider Warhol’s late paintings is mar- shalled by three eclectic essays. The first, by the curator of the exhibition, Joseph Ketner, explains the pivotal role of the late 1970s Oxidation Paintings in turning Warhol away from silkscreened Pop images. Ketner deftly shows that this turn away was also a kind of return insofar as the Oxidation series is also the product of Warhol’s recollection of having urinated on a few blank canvases in the early 1960s. But so too, insofar as these paintings might be seen as a gay parody of Jackson Pollock, do they demonstrate Warhol’s continuing fixation with and admiration for abstract art. For Warhol – who arrived in New York as a 20-year old in 1949 – painting meant, for better or worse, abstraction. Two key exhibitions of 1979 are claimed to have the most profound influence on the direction and content of Warhol’s late paintings. One is the Heiner Friedrich Gallery show in Soho, New York of Warhol’s Shadow Paintings, 102 large, abstract, silkscreened and painted canvases which the artist conceived to be hung in a continuous sequence, abutting one another around the walls of the entire gallery. This installation thus harked back to the installation of Warhol’s Elvis paintings in 1963 at the Ferus Gallery in Los Angeles. The Shadow Paintings exhibition, despite Warhol’s anxieties concerning its reception, was a critical success. A very contrary response, however, awaited Warhol’s late 1979 exhibition at the Whitney Museum: ‘Portraits of the Seventies’. This show Paul Nash,Landscape atIden (1929) Tate,London r Tate,London, 2009.FromPaulNash: The Elements by David FraserJenkins (ed.). 20 The Art Book volume 17 issue 3 august 2010 r 2010 the authors. journal compilation r 2010 bpl/aah Exhibitions,Museums andGalleries instead became iconic for critics, who took it to be symptomatic of all that was supposedly wrong with the art and celebrity culture of the 1970s. Warhol, always a master strategist, did not fail to learn the artworld lesson of having committed a large portion of his 1970s output to celebrity portraiture. 1980 would thus include more Shadow Paintings, followed soon thereafter by the abstrac- tions of the Yarn and Rorschach Paintings. The next step forward, for which Warhol himself credited the collabora- tions with Basquiat, was the return to making paintings by brush. The ambiguity and tentativeness of Ketner’s conclusion nicely mimics these same major themes within Warhol’s work: ‘It is almost as if Warhol had anticipated the artistic avant- garde of the late 1970s and 1980s by introducing a revival of painting, appro- priation, and figuration’. The second essay, ‘Andy Warhol: Ab- straction’, by Keith Hartley, is concerned primarily with locating the proper place of the late paintings among the works of a few of the great abstractionists of the twentieth century. Hartley makes a compelling case for the influence of Paul Klee, Pollock, and Ellsworth Kelly on what come to be the Yarn, Rorschach, and Camouflage paintings. So too is the influence of Duchamp and Dada invoked, along with that of Picasso’s own late figure paintings, the better to illuminate Warhol’s ambitions for the look of the Oxidation and later Mao paintings. One of the many connections to the influence of Pollock had already been noted by H D Buchloh and Rosalind Krauss in their observation that Warhol’s Diagram paintings of 1962 were placed on the floor at the time of their first exhibition. Hartley’s most insightful commentary explains the format of the Shadow Paintings as the product of War- hol’s longstanding appreciation for Klee’s technique of achieving nonfigurative ab- straction via the repetitions of formal elements. So too does Hartley nicely capture the mood of several of the late figurative paintings, including Last Supper and portrait paintings, in which the images are covered with camouflage, by describing them as perfectly reflective of Warhol’s ambivalence toward his own fixation with abstraction. This Warholian ambivalence is carried over into the title of the third substantive essay, by Gregory Volk: ‘The late, great Andy Warhol’. Volk’s informed impulse is to see Warhol as an echt American, and therewith to place him in the same stream as three other robustly American figures, though of the nine- teenth century: Ralph Waldo Emerson, Walt Whitman and, most poignantly, P T Barnum. Volk thus succeeds in revealing new aspects of Warhol’s work by declaring the continuity of his artistic achievement with the lives and works of some very particular, and particularly American, self-made pioneering spirits. In sum, this is a thoughtful, provocative, and well-illustrated catalogue of Warhol’s late work. tom huhn School of Visual Arts, New York City THE DARKER SIDE OF LIGHT: ARTS OF PRIVACY, 1850–1900 peter parshall (ed.) National Gallery of Art, Washington/Lund Humphries 2009 d35.00 $50.00 192 pp. 86 col illus isbn 978-1-84822-021-8 T he curators of Washington’s National Gallery of Art took a refreshing deci- sion to draw our attention, with this thematic selection of artists’ prints and small-scale sculpture from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, to a period which saw a rich flowering of graphic art. The exhibition travelled to the Hammer Muse- um, Los Angeles and the Smart Museum, Chicago. It has also led to the production of a fine book to accompany the show. With the honourable exceptions of Mary Cassatt and Käthe Kollwitz, the story is very much one of troubled artists and troubling, if not to say fatal, women. Shadows and silhouettes, glimpsed in enclosed rooms, shafts of light finding a way through draped windows, illuminat- ing their subjects, find their ideal medium in the richly textured tones of soft-ground etching, aquatint and lithotint, occasion- ally abstracted to the extremes of read- ability, in the case of Degas’ monotypes. The strengths of the medium also emerge in the oppressive interiors of labour and poverty in the work of Kollwitz. But they Andy Warhol,Self-Portrait (Strangulation),1978. Collection of Anthony d’O¡ay.From AndyWarhol: TheLastDecade byJoseph DKetner II. r 2010 the authors. journal compilation r 2010 bpl/aah volume 17 issue 3 august 2010 The Art Book 21 Exhibitions,Museums and Galleries 
work_q3s3ul6mqzbnxpho6ht7fc4oou	----	Association News Lijphart Nominated President-Elect The 1994 Nominating Committee, composed of Virginia Sapiro, University of Wisconsin-Madison, chair; Donna Bahry, University of California, Davis; James Ceaser, University of Virginia; I.M. Dest- ler, University of Maryland; Gary Orfield, Harvard University; and Michael Preston, University of Southern California, propose the following slate for Association of- ficers and Council members. President-Elect (1994-95): Arend Lyphart, University of California, San Diego Arend Lijphart Arend Lijphart is professor of political science at the University of California, San Diego. Before he joined the UC San Diego faculty in 1978, he was Professor of Interna- tional Relations at the University of Leiden in the Netherlands from 1968 to 1978 and taught at the Uni- versity of California, Berkeley, from 1963 to 1968. He served as Chairman of his Department in 1972-74, 1976-78 and 1979-80. He has also been a Visiting Professor at Harvard University and a Visit- ing Fellow of the Institute of Ad- vanced Studies, Australian Na- tional University, Canberra, of the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study in Wassenaar and of the Sci- ence Center in Berlin. After receiv- ing his primary and secondary edu- cation in the Netherlands, he attended college and graduate school in the United States; he earned his Ph.D. from Yale Univer- sity in 1963. He was born in 1936; he is married and has two children. His field of specialization is com- parative politics and his research has focused on the comparative study of divided societies, demo- cratic institutions and electoral sys- tems. He is the author or editor of more than a dozen books, including Democracy in Plural Societies: A Comparative Exploration (1977); Democracies: Patterns of Majori- tarian and Consensus Government in Twenty-One Countries (1984); Power-Sharing in South Africa (1985); Parliamentary versus Presi- dential Government (1992); and Electoral Systems and Party Sys- tems: A Study of Twenty-Seven Democracies, 1945-1990 (1994). He has also written more than a hun- dred book chapters and articles in professional journals. He was the founding editor of the European Journal of Political Research (1971-75), and he has served on the editorial boards of several other professional journals such as the American Political Science Review, the British Journal of Political Sci- ence, Comparative Political Studies and Electoral Studies. He has served as Secretary and Vice President of the American Po- litical Science Association, Vice President of the International Stud- ies Association and Co-Chair of the Research Committee on Compara- tive Representation and Electoral Systems of the International Politi- cal Science Association. He re- ceived the Ralph J. Bunche Award of the American Political Science Association in 1979, and he was elected to the Royal Netherlands Academy of Sciences in 1980 and to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1989. He has also been a German Marshall Fund Fel- low, a Guggenheim Fellow and a Stein Rokkan Lecturer. Vice President (1994-95): F. Chris Garcia, University of New Mexico F. Chris Garcia F. Chris Garcia has been a pro- fessor of political science at the University of New Mexico since 1970. He has also served the Uni- versity as Vice President for Aca- demic Affairs, Provost and Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. Garcia earned his B.A. and M.A. at the University of New Mexico and his Ph.D. at the University of California, Davis in 1972. He has written several books in his spe- cialty of public opinion and elec- toral behavior including Latino Voices (co-authored, 1992); La Causa Political: A Chicano Politics Reader (1974) and The Political Socialization of Chicano Children (1973). 290 PS: Political Science & Politics The Woodrow Wilson Department of Government and Foreign Affairs at The University of Virginia Congratulates Charles O, Jones 89th President of APSA Scholar, Friend, and Colleague (1981 -1988) Association News He is a past Secretary of the APSA's Executive Council, past President of the Western Political Science Association and member of Phi Beta Kappa, Phi Kappa Phi and Pi Sigma Alpha. Garcia has also served as an election analyst on KOAT-TV since 1973. Vice President (1994-95): Betty Glad, University of South Carolina Betty Glad Betty Glad is a Carolina Re- search Professor in the Department of Government and International Studies at the University of South Carolina and is president of the International Society for Political Psychology (1993-94) and co-chair of the Psycho-politics Research Group of IPSA. She also serves on the Advisory Committee on Histor- ical Diplomatic Documentation, U.S. Department of State. Her books include The Psychological Dimensions of War (editor and con- tributor, 1990); Key Pittman: The Tragedy of a Senate Insider (1986); Jimmy Carter: In Search of the Great White House (1980); Charles Evans Hughes and the Illusions of Innocence (1966). She has also been a National Endowment for the Hu- manities Senior Fellow, the president of the Presidency Research Group of the APSA, acting head of the De- partment of Political Science, Uni- versity of Illinois and a member of several editorial boards. She won a 292 "mentor of distinction" award from the Women's Caucus (1989). Her most recent articles include "The Psychological Presidency," in the Encyclopedia of the Ameri- can Presidency and "Political Psy- chology: Where Have We Been? Where Are We Going?" in William Crotty, ed., Political Science: Looking to the Future, vol. III. Vice President (1994-95): Catherine Kelleher, The Brookings Institution Catherine McArdle Kelleher is a Senior Fellow in the Foreign Policy Studies Program at the Brookings Institution. Her current project at Brookings, Germany Reborn, seeks to place German unification in the framework of changes in German foreign policy and European secu- rity in the 1980s and 1990s. Catherine Kelleher Kelleher was formerly the direc- tor of the Center for International Security Studies and a professor in the School of Public Affairs at the University of Maryland. She has taught at the National War College and at the Universities of Denver and Michigan. Kelleher served as a staff member for the National Secu- rity Council in the Carter Adminis- tration and was a research fellow at the International Institute for Stra- tegic Studies in London. She has served as a consultant to govern- ment and public sector organiza- tions and to several private founda- tions. Kelleher has published widely in the field of national security and arms control studies and has been active in the design and implemen- tation of programs to broaden edu- cation in this field. Her most recent publications include "Cooperative Security in Europe" in Janne E. Nolan, ed., Global Engagement: Cooperative Security in the 21st Century (1994); Management and Disposition of Excess Weapons Plutonium, contributing author, National Academy of Sciences, Committee on International Secu- rity and Arms Control (1994); "Co- operative Security in Europe: A New Order for the 1990s," in Stephen Szabo and Douglas Stuart, eds., Arnold Wolfers (1994); and "Soldiering On: U.S. Public Opin- ion on the Use of Force," Brook- ings Review (1994). Kelleher received her undergrad- uate training at Mount Holyoke College and her doctorate from the Massachusetts Institute of Technol- ogy. She is a member of the Coun- cil of the International Institute for Strategic Studies, is Vice-Chair of the Committee on International Se- curity and Arms Control of the Na- tional Academy of Sciences and is president of Women in Interna- tional Security (WHS). Secretary (1994-95): Loch Johnson, University of Georgia Loch Johnson PS: Political Science & Politics Association News Loch K. Johnson is a Regents Professor of Political Science at the University of Georgia and author of several books, including The Mak- ing of International Agreements, A Season of Inquiry, America's Secret Power, America as a World Power, and Runoff Elections in the United States (with Charles S. Bul- lock III). He has won the Certifi- cate of Distinction from the Na- tional Intelligence Study Center, the V.O. Key Award and, at the University of Georgia, the Josiah Meigs Award for Excellence in Teaching and the Creative Re- search Medal. Prior to joining the faculty at the University of Georgia in 1979, he was an APSA Congres- sional Fellow, taught at Ohio Uni- versity and served on various com- mittees in the U.S. Congress, including as staff director of the Subcommittee on Oversight, Per- manent Select Committee on Intel- ligence and as assistant to the Chairman, Senate Select Commit- tee on Intelligence. A native of New Zealand, he received his B.A. degree from the University of Cali- fornia, Davis and his Ph.D. degree from the University of California, Riverside. Council (1995-96): Timothy E. Cook, Williams College Timothy E. Cook is professor of political science at Williams Col- Timothy E. Cook lege, where he has taught since 1981. He is just finishing a three- year term as chair of the depart- ment. Cook received his B.A. in 1976 from Pomona College and his Ph.D. in political science from the University of Wisconsin in 1982. An American Political Science Association Congressional Fellow and a Guest Scholar at the Brook- ings Institution in 1984-85, he is the author of Making Laws and Mak- ing News: Media Strategies in the U.S. House of Representatives (1989). His articles on political communication in the United States, political socialization and representation in Congress have been published in the American Political Science Review, American Journal of Political Science, Jour- nal of Politics, Western Political Quarterly, Polity, Human Develop- ment and Journal of Health Policy, Politics and Law, as well as in nu- merous edited volumes. Cook was the first occupant of the Laurence Lombard Chair as visiting associate professor at the Joan Shorenstein Barone Center on the Press, Politics and Public Pol- icy at the Kennedy School of Gov- ernment at Harvard in 1989-90. He will also be a visiting professor in the political science department at Yale in the spring of 1995. He is currently working on two projects: writing a book tentatively entitled, Taking the Fourth Branch Serious- ly: The News Media as a Political Institution, and co-authoring a study of the actions and interac- tions of the news media, candidates and citizens in the 1992 presidential election. Within the Association, Cook helped to found the Gay and Les- bian Caucus and served as the chair of the Carey McWilliams Award Committee in 1992-93. Fields: American Government and Politics, Political Psychology, Legislative Studies, Communica- tions and Politics, Lesbian and Gay Politics. Council (1995-96): Susan A. Mac- Manus, University of South Florida Susan A. MacManus is professor of public administration and politi- cal science at the University of South Florida, Tampa. She is Presi- Susan A. MacManus dent of the Southern Political Sci- ence Association and sits on the editorial boards of the Journal of Politics, Public Administration Re- view, Policy Studies Journal, Jour- nal of Urban Affairs, Public Bud- geting and Financial Management and the International Journal of Public Administration, among oth- ers. Her work on intergovernmen- tal relations, budgeting and finance, state and local government, urban politics, and women and minorities has appeared in these journals, along with the American Journal of Political Science, Western Political Quarterly, American Politics Quar- terly, Urban Affairs Quarterly, State and Local Government Re- view and the National Civic Re- view. Her latest books are Reap- portionment and Representation in Florida: An Historical Collection (edited, 1991) and Doing Business With Government: Federal, State, Local and Foreign Government Purchasing Practices for Every Business and Public Institution (1992). She regularly serves as a media political analyst and con- sultant. Council (1995-96): Helen Milner, Columbia University Helen Milner is an associate pro- fessor in the Department of Politi- cal Science at Columbia University where she has been on the fac- June 1994 293 Association News ulty since 1986. She received her A.B. from Stanford University in 1980 and her Ph.D. from Harvard University in 1986. She is the re- cipient of many awards and honors, among them a Social Science Re- search Council Advanced Research Fellowship in Foreign Policy Stud- ies (1989-91); and the Sumner Prize for the exceptional thesis in inter- national law and peace at Harvard (1986). Milner is the author of Resisting Protectionism: Global Industries and the Politics of International Trade (1988) and edited The Politi- cal Economy of National Security: An Annotated Bibliography, ed. (1989); East West Trade and the Atlantic Alliance, ed. (1990); and The Library of International Politi- cal Economy, ed. (1993). She has contributed articles to a variety of books and journals including "In- ternational Firms, Regionalism and Domestic Politics," in Richard Stubbs and Geoffrey Underhill, eds., Political Economy and the Changing Global Order (1993); "International Theories of Cooper- ation among Nations: A Review Essay," World Politics (1992); and "The Assumption of Anarchy in International Relations: A Cri- tique," Review of International Studies (1991). Domestic Sources of Interna- tional Cooperation will be pub- lished in 1994 and she is currently at work on a number of other projects. Milner was the Acting Director of Columbia's Institute on Western Europe in the Spring of 1993 and has participated in professional ac- tivities ranging from Associate Edi- tor at Cambridge University Press (1991-present) to Member of the Rights and Responsibilities Com- mittee of the International Studies Association (1988-89). Council (1995-96), Mary P. Nichols, Fordham University Mary P. Nichols is professor of political science at Fordham Uni- versity, where she has taught since 1988. She also served as Visiting Professor for Honors Education at the University of Delaware and has Mary P. Nichols taught at St. John's College and Northern Illinois University. She received her B.A. from Newcomb College of Tulane University and her Ph.D. from the University of Chicago. She received the Leo Strauss Dissertation Award, presented by the American Political Science As- sociation, and has held several fel- lowships from the National Endow- ment for the Humanities and the H.B. Earhart Foundation. She has served on the Editorial Board of the American Political Science Re- view as a member of APSA's Com- mittee of Publications, and as the 1994 Program Chair of the Politics and Literature Section of the APSA. She currently serves on the Editorial Advisory Board of the Review of Politics. She has written Citizens and Statesmen: A Study of Aristotle's Politics (1992) and Socrates and the Political Community: An An- cient Debate (1987), and edited four editions of Readings in Ameri- can Government. Her numerous articles include "Rousseau's Influ- ence on Contemporary Educational Philosophy: Romantic or Authori- tarian?" in Law and Philosophy (1992); "Spiritedness and Philoso- phy in Plato's Republic," in Under- standing the Political Spirit (1988); "Aristotle's Defense of Rhetoric," The Journal of Politics (1987); "Kant's Teaching of Historical Progress and Its Cosmopolitan Goal," Polity (1986); "Rousseau's Novel Education in the Emile, " Political Theory (1985); "The Re- public's Two Alternatives: Philoso- pher-kings and Socrates," Political Theory (1984). She is currently the Co-Director of "Gender and Political Philoso- phy" at Fordham University and Director of Graduate Studies. Fields: Political Philosophy, Classical and Modern; Politics and Literature; and Women and Politi- cal Theory. Council (1995-96), David E. Price, U.S. House of Representatives Honorable David E. Price Congressman David E. Price is Democratic Representative of the Fourth District of North Carolina. He earned his B.A. from the Uni- versity of North Carolina in 1961 and got his B.D. (1964) and Ph.D. (1969) from Yale University where he was elected to Phi Beta Kappa. From 1963-67, he served Senator E.L. Bartlett (D-Arkansas) as a legislative aide and from 1973-86 was a professor of political science and public policy at Duke Univer- sity. Price is the author of several books including Bringing Back the Parties, The Commerce Commit- tees, Who Makes the Laws? and The Congressional Experience: A View from the Hill. 294 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News Council (1995-96). Theda Skocpol, Harvard University Theda Skocpol Theda Skocpol, professor of so- ciology, currently teaches at Har- vard University; she was previ- ously professor of sociology and political science at the University of Chicago. Her first book, States and Social Revolutions: A Compar- ative Analysis of France, Russia and China (1979), won the C. Wright Mills Award and the 1980 American Sociological Award for a Distinguished Contribution to Scholarship. Skocpol has served as the co-chair of the States and So- cial Structures Committee, origi- nally organized under the auspices of the Social Science Research Council and now located at the Russell Sage Foundation. For the past decade, Skocpol has been do- ing research on U.S. politics and public policies in comparative and historical perspective. In 1988, she published a co-edited collection on The Politics of Social Policy in the United States. Skocpol was a founding member and the 1991-92 president of the Politics and His- tory Section of the American Politi- cal Science Association. Her latest book is Protecting Soldiers and Mothers: The Political Origins of Social Policy in the United States (1992). This book has recently re- ceived five scholarly awards; the J. David Greenstone Award of the Politics and History Section of the APSA; the Best Book Award of the Political Sociology Section of the American Sociological Association; the 1993 Woodrow Wilson Founda- tion Award of the APSA, given an- nually for "the best book published in the United States during the prior year on government, politics or international affairs"; the 1993 Allan Sharlin Memorial Award of the Social Science History Associa- tion; and the 1993 Ralph Waldo Emerson Award of Phi Beta Kappa, given to honor a compre- hensive study that contributes sig- nificantly to "historical, philosophi- cal or religious interpretations of the human condition." Council (1995-96), Toni-Michelle C. Travis, George Mason University Toni-Michelle C. Travis Toni-Michelle C. Travis is assis- tant dean of the College of Arts and Sciences and associate profes- sor of government and politics at George Mason University. She earned her bachelor's degree at Bard College and her Ph.D. at the University of Chicago. She currently serves as first vice- president of the National Capital Area Political Science Association and President-elect of the Women's Caucus in Political Science. She also serves on the editorial boards of Women and Politics, Journal of Urban Affairs, and the Urban Affairs Quarterly. Her publications include: "Bos- ton: the Unfinished Agenda" in Race, Class and Cities, Rufus Browning, Dale Rogers Marshall and David Tabb, editors (1990); "Women as an Emerging Power Bloc: Ethnic and Racial Consider- ations" in Ethnicity and Women, edited by Winston A. Van Home (1986); "Black Women in the Con- tinuing Struggle for Equality" in Race, Sex and Policy Problems, edited by Marian Lief Palley and Michael Preston (1979). She is co- author with Karen Rosenblum of the forthcoming book on The Meaning of Difference. In the APSA, she has served on the Committee on the Status of Women, Committee on the Status of Blacks and the Leonard D. White Award Committee. She will be a section head for the Race, Gender and Ethnicity Section of the 1995 APSA meeting. Fields: Women and Politics. Urban and Ethnic Politics Council (1995-96), Eddie N. Wil- liams, Joint Center for Political and Economic Studies Eddie N. Williams Eddie N. Williams has been pres- ident of the Joint Center for Politi- cal and Economic studies since June 1994 295 Association News 1972. Located in Washington, D.C., the Joint Center is a national, nonprofit and nonpartisan research and public policy institution that conducts research and analyses on major policy issues that affect both black Americans and the nation as a whole. In 1992, the National Black Caucus of State Legislators gave Williams its "National Builder Award" for his outstanding contri- butions to the nation. In 1991, Washingtonian magazine named Williams one of 16 "Washingtoni- ans of the Year." Between 1968 and 1972, Williams was vice president for public affairs and director of the Center for Pol- icy Study at the University of Chi- cago. In the 1960s, he held several positions in the U.S. Department of State and on the U.S. Senate Com- mittee on Foreign Relations. For his leadership and exemplary service, Mr. Williams has received numerous honors and awards. In 1988, he received the prestigious MacArthur Foundation "genius award" for his work "in enabling black leaders, politicians and others to highlight the needs of the na- tion's poor and disenfranchised." In addition to honorary degrees from Bowie State University in Maryland and the University of the District of Columbia, Mr. Williams has been honored by numerous in- stitutions, including the Congres- sional Black Caucus, the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, and the University of Illinois, his alma mater. In 1986, the National Journal named him as one of the 150 people in the United States, outside the government, who have had the greatest impact on what the federal government does. Williams also is active in a num- ber of influential associations. To- gether with the heads of the Na- tional Urban League and the NAACP, he is one of the founding members of the Black Leadership Forum, a coalition of the most in- fluential national black public ser- vice organizations in the U.S., and he currently serves as its secretary- treasurer. He is on the boards of Indepen- dent Sector, National Opinion Re- search Center, National Endow- ment for Democracy, Riggs National Bank of Washington, Japan-America Society of Washing- ton, Public/Private Ventures, The Promus Companies, Inc. and Grumman Corporation He serves as chairman of the Board of Directors of the National Coalition on Black Voter Participa- tion and of the PEW Partnership for Civic Change. Continuing officers and council members for 1994-95 will be: President (1994-95): Sidney Verba, Harvard University Sidney Verba Sidney Verba is the Carl H. Pforzheimer University Professor at Harvard University. He previ- ously taught at Princeton, Stanford and the University of Chicago. At Harvard, he has served as chair of the department of government and Associate Dean of the Faculty for Undergraduate Education. He is currently director of the Harvard University Library. Verba earned his B.A. from Harvard and his Ph.D. from Princeton. For the APSA, he has served as vice president and as member of the council, as well as chair of the Program Committee for the Annual Meeting. He is the author or co-author of numerous books and articles in the fields of American and comparative government. These include Small Groups and Political Behavior (1961); The Civic Culture (1963); Caste, Race and Politics (1969); Participation in America (1972); The Changing American Voter (1976); Injury to Insult (1979); Par- ticipation and Political Equality (1979); Equality in America (1981); and Elites and the Idea of Equality (1985). Verba was awarded the APSA's Kammerer Award for the best book in American Politics (for Participa- tion in America) and the APSA's Woodrow Wilson award for the best book in government, politics or international affairs (for The Changing American Voter). He also received the APSA's James Madison Award for a career contri- bution to political science at the 1993 Annual Meeting. He is a member of the National Academy of Sciences and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. He has been the chair of the Social Science Research Coun- cil's Policy Committee and served on its Board of Directors. He has also been a member of the National Research Council's Commission on the Behavioral Sciences. He cur- rently chairs the Committee on In- ternational Cooperation and Con- flict of the National Academy of Sciences' National Research Coun- cil. He has been a Guggenheim Fel- low and a Fellow of the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences. Verba is low to moderate in po- litical participation. He scored 3 on an overall additive scale of political activity for which the population mean is 2.12 (standard deviation = 1.74, n = 15055) but the mean for Ph.D.s is 3.79 (standard deviation 2.01, n = 163). Fields: American and Compara- tive Politics, Electoral Behavior and Public Opinion, Political Partic- ipation. Treasurer (1993-95): Susan C. Bourque, Smith College Susan C. Bourque is the Esther Booth Wiley Professor and chair of the department of government at Smith College, where she is also director of the Smith Project on Women and Social Change. She 296 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News Susan C. Bourque earned both her bachelor's degree and her Ph.D. at Cornell Univer- sity. She has served on the Executive Council and the Administrative Committee of the APSA, and is president of the Women in Politics Section. She has also served on the Executive Council of the Latin American Studies Association and the Association for Women in De- velopment. She is the author of four books: The Politics of Women's Education (with Jill K. Conway 1993); Learn- ing About Women (with Jill K. Conway and Joan W. Scott 1989); Women Living Change (with Donna R. Divine 1985); and Women of the Andes (with Kay B. Warren), for which she was awarded the Hamilton Prize. She is also the author of three mono- graphs, and numerous articles, book chapters and reviews. Her honors include: Fulbright- Hayes Fellowship and grants from the Ford, Rockefeller and Mellon foundations, and the Heinz Endow- ment. Fields: Comparative Politics, Latin American Politics, and Women and Politics. Council (1993-95): John A. Garcia, University of Arizona John A. Garcia is associate pro- fessor of political science at the University of Arizona. He com- pleted his five-year term as depart- ment head last year. He earned his bachelor's degree at the University of Texas-Austin; his Master's at the University of Houston; and his Ph.D at Florida State University. He has served on several APSA committees. More recently, he chaired the Ralph Bunche book award on cultural pluralism, as well as serving on the APSA Committee on the Status of Chicanos and Lati- nos. In addition, he has been on the executive councils of the Southwestern and Western Political Science Association, as well as re- gional associations and committees. He had also served on the editorial boards of Urban Affairs Quarterly, Journal of Politics, American Poli- tics Quarterly and Journal of the Southwest. In addition, he has served on CLEP committee for American Government, Advanced Placement committee on American Government and Comparative Poli- tics and the National Teachers Examination (social studies) com- mittee. Recent publications include: Lat- ino Voices: Perspectives on Politics of Mexican Americans, Puerto Ri- cans and Cubans (1992); "Expand- ing Disciplinary Boundaries: Black, Latino, and Racial Minority Group Politics in Political Science" (co- authored with Paula McClain) in A. Finifter (ed.). Political Science: The State of the Discipline II (1993); "The Chicano Movement and Politics of the 90's" in I. Ortiz and D. Maciel (eds.). Chicanos in the Contemporary Era: Latinos and Politics: A Research Bibliography (co-authored 1991); "Mexican Im- migrants, Mexican Americans and the American Political Culture" (co-authored) in Edmondson and Fixx (eds.). Immigration and Pub- lic Policy (1992); and "Latino Poli- tics in the United States" in E. Cashmore (ed.). Dictionary of Ra- cial and Ethnic Relations (1993). Additionally, he was one of the four coprincipal investigators of the Latino National Political Survey. Fields: Urban Politics and Pol- icy, Political Participation, Elec- toral Politics and Mobilization and Political Psychology and Sociology. Council (1993-95): Barbara Geddes, University of California, Los Angeles Barbara Geddes Barbara Geddes has taught at UCLA since 1984. She received her Ph.D. from the University of California, Berkeley, in 1986. She teaches Latin American politics, comparative revolution and re- search design. Her publications include Politi- cian 's Dilemma: Building State Ca- pacity in Latin America; A Game Theoretic Model of Reform in Latin American Democracies," APSR (1991); and "How the Cases You Choose Affect the Answers You Get: Selection Bias in Com- parative Politics," Political Analy- sis (1990). She has also written on public opinion in authoritarian re- gimes, the initiation of new demo- cratic institutions, the political costs of structural adjustment and methodology for comparative poli- tics. Awards include fellowships or research grants from the National Science Foundation, the Hoover Institution, and IRIS (Institutional Reform and the Informal Sector). She has served on the APSA Program Committee, the Franklin Burdette Pi Sigma Alpha Prize Committee and was chair of the Heinz Eulau Prize Committee. She is a member of the editorial boards June 1994 297 Association News of the American Journal of Politi- cal Science and Comparative Polit- ical Studies and of the steering committee of the Institute for Global Conflict and Cooperation. Council (1993-95): John Mark Hansen, University of Chicago Council (1993-95): Anne H. Hop- kins, University of Minnesota John Mark Hansen Mark Hansen is associate profes- sor of political science at the Uni- versity of Chicago, where he has taught since 1986. He received his B.A. from the University of Kan- sas in 1981 and his Ph.D. from Yale University in 1987. During this academic year, he is a fellow at the Center for Advanced Study in the Behavioral Sciences. Hansen writes on interest groups, congressional politics, po- litical participation and political economy. He is the author of Gain- ing Access: Congress and the Farm Lobby, 1919-1981 (1991) and the co-author of Mobilization, Partici- pation and Democracy in America (1993). His articles have appeared in the American Political Science Review, International Organiza- tion, Studies in American Political Development and Public Opinion Quarterly. Fields: Political Parties and Inter- est Groups, Legislative Politics, Political Economy, Political Meth- odology. Anne H. Hopkins Anne H. Hopkins is a professor of political science and Vice Presi- dent for Arts, Sciences and Engi- neering at the University of Minne- sota. Before coming to Minnesota in 1990, she was at the University of Tennessee-Knoxville for 16 years, serving as a faculty member and later as vice provost. She also served as faculty member and de- partment chair at Hobart and Wil- liam Smith Colleges. Her B.A., M.A. and Ph.D. are from Syracuse University. Hopkins is past president of the Southern Political Science Associa- tion and has served on the editorial board of the Journal of Politics since 1982. She has also served on the editorial boards of Administra- tion and Society, American Politics Quarterly and the University of Tennessee Press. Her publications include: "Ob- servations of Gender, Political Sci- ence and the Academy (Journal of Politics, 1993); "Campaign Activi- ties and Local Political Organiza- tion in Nashville," chapter in Polit- ical Parties at Local Areas, William Crotty, ed. (1986); "State Campaign Fund Raising: Targets and Response" (with Ruth S. Jones), Journal of Politics (1985); Work and Job Satisfaction in the Public Sector (1983); "Perceptions of Discrimination by Public Em- ployees," Public Administration Review (1980); "Toward a Classifi- cation of State Electoral Change: A Note on Tennessee, 1837-1976" (with William Lyons), Journal of Politics (1980); "Opinion Publics and Support for Public Policy: A Comparative State Analysis," American Journal of Political Sci- ence (1974). Fields: Comparative State Poli- tics, Public Policy. Council (1993-95): Margaret Levi, University of Washington Margaret Levi Margaret Levi is professor of political science, University of Washington. She received her B.A. at Bryn Mawr College in 1968 and her Ph.D. at Harvard in 1974. Her books include Of Rule and Revenue, The Limits of Rationality (edited with Karen Cook), and The Contingencies of Consent. She is spending 1993-94 at the Center for Advanced Study in Behavioral Sci- ences (Palo Alto) and has also held visiting research appointments at the University of Essex, London School of Economics, European University Institute, the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme and the Australian National University. Her major area of interest is po- 298 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News litical economy. In particular, she applies the logic of rational choice to historical and comparative prob- lems of state-building, government action, compliance and consent. She is currently chairperson of the Organized Section on Political Economy (SOPE). Council (1993-95): Mamie E. Locke, Hampton University Mamie E. Locke Mamie E. Locke is assistant dean of the School of Liberal Arts and Education and associate pro- fessor of political science at Hamp- ton University. She earned the bachelor's degree at Tougaloo Col- lege and her master's and Ph.D. at Atlanta University. She currently serves as president of the National Conference of Black Political Scientists and is a member of the APSA 1993 program committee and the editorial board of PS. Her publications include "Sex- ism and Racism: Obstacles to the Development of Black Women in South Africa," in Feminist Visions: Toward a Transformation of the Liberal Arts Curriculum, Diane L. Fowlkes and Charlotte McClure, eds. (1984); "Africana Women: Teaching and Research in the So- cial Sciences," with Gloria Brax- ton, African Women's Studies Se- ries (1986); "Outsiders in Insiders Politics: Black Women and the American Political System," in Readings in American Political Is- sues, Franklin Jones and Michael Adams, eds. (1987); "Rural Afri- cana Women: A Case Study of Sunflower County, Mississippi," Network: A Pan-African Women's Forum (1989); "From Three-Fifths to Zero: Implications of the Consti- tution for African American Wom- en," Women and Politics (1989); "Is This America? Fannie Lou Hamer and the Mississippi Free- dom Democratic Party," Women in the Civil Rights Movement, Vicki Crawford et al., eds. (1990); and "The Impact of Family Structure Variations Among Black Families on the Underenumeration of Black Males," co-authored with John Hudgins and Bernadette Holmes for the U.S. Census Bureau. She has also authored book reviews and several biographical sketches for Notable Black American Women (1991) and American National Biography. She has been the recipient of a National Endowment for the Hu- manities Award, Fulbright-Hays Summer Seminar Award (for study in Egypt), National Conference of Black Political Scientists Best Pa- per award, Ford Foundation curric- ulum development awards and the Hampton University Lindback Award for distinguished teaching. Fields: African American Poli- tics, Women and Politics (particu- larly Africana women) and Urban and Ethnic Politics. Council (1993-95); William E. Nel- son, Jr., The Ohio State University William E. Nelson, Jr. is re- search professor of black studies and professor of political science at The Ohio State University. He earned his B.A. degree at Arkansas AM&N College, his master's de- gree at Atlanta University and his Ph.D. degree at the University of Illinois. Currently he is the presi- dent of the African Heritage Stud- ies Association. He is the former president of the National Confer- ence of Black Political Scientists and the former chair of the Na- tional Council for Black Studies. He served as chair of the depart- William E. Nelson, Jr. ment of black studies at Ohio State from 1972-86. He has served as a member of the Committee on the Status of Blacks of the American Political Science Association. His honors include a Fulbright Fellowship to Britain (1990), and Award of Merit from the Commit- tee on the Status of Blacks, APSA (1988). Publications include Elect- ing Black Mayors: Political Action in the Black Community (1977, co- authored); "Black Elected Admin- istrators: The Trials of Office," Public Administration Review (1974); "Cleveland: The Rise and Fall of the New Black Politics" {The New Black Politics, 1982); "The Weakening of State Participa- tion in Civil Rights Enforcement" {Public Policy Across States and Communities, co-authored, 1986); "Black Presidential Strategies and Institutional Constraints" {National Political Science Review, 1989); "Black Mayoral Leadership: A Twenty Year Perspective" {The National Political Science Review, 1990). Fields: Urban Politics, African American Politics, Ethnic Politics, Public Policy, Political Movements and Organizations. Council (1993-95): Michael P. Zuck- ert, Carleton College Michael P. Zuckert is the Dor- othy and Edward Congdon Profes- June 1994 299 NEW FOR GRADUATE STUDENTS ANNUAL MEETING TRAVEL GRANTS PARTICIPATING IN THE 1994 ANNUAL MEETING??? In a continuing effort to encourage the participation of students in professional conferences, the APSA is now offering a limited number of travel grants to U.S. graduate students who will be participating in the 1994 Annual Meeting in New York City, September 1-4. Interested persons will be required to complete an application form and obtain a letter of support from their department chairperson. The maximum individual award will be limited to $300 in an attempt to assist a greater number of students. The deadline for receipt of the complete application is June 30. Applications without a letter of support will not be considered. 1c Priority will be given to applicants meeting qualifications ranking in the following order: • Position on a panel as a paper presenter • Position on a panel as a discussant • Advanced Graduate Student For Application forms or further information please write to: Graduate Student Travel Grants, APSA, 1527 New Hampshire Ave., NW, Washington, DC 20036-1290 t American Political Science Association Announces 1994 Foreign Student Travel Grants Are you an advanced foreign graduate student attending an American university and hoping to attend the 1994 APSA Annual Meeting in New York City? Each year the APSA awards more than 30 grants to qualified students. Meet the following guidelines and you might join us in New York. • Recipients of awards must be studying in the United States at the tune the award is offered to them. • Recipients must be full-tune graduate students. Foreign graduate students having refugee, immigrant, or tourist visa status are not eligible. • Applicants who are furthest along in their graduate course of study and intend to return to their native country once their course of study is completed will be given preference. • Applicants are not eligible for awards if they are receiving any U.S. government funds for either travel or academic expenses. • Previous grant recipients are not eligible. The maximum award to an individual is $300. A completed application should include a letter of support from your department chairperson. Applications without a letter of support will not be considered. The deadline for receipt of the complete application is June 30. r Applications are available from the APSA National Office. For application forms or further information please write to: Foreign Advanced Graduate Student Travel Grants, APSA, 1527 New Hampshire Ave., NW, Washington, DC 20036-1290. t This program is supported by the Asia Foundation, the Huang Hsing Foundation, and the APSA Association News Michael P. Zuckert sor of Political Science at Carleton College, where he has taught since 1968. He has also served as visiting professor at Claremont Men's Col- lege and Cornell University. His fields of specialization are Political Philosophy, with an emphasis on the liberal tradition, and American constitutionalism and political thought. He earned his B.A. at Cornell and his Ph.D. at the University of Chicago. In his time, he has held several fellowships from the National En- dowment for the Humanities, been a fellow at the Woodrow Wilson Center for Scholars and was awarded a grant from the Bill of Rights Educational Collaborative, of which the APSA was a co-spon- sor, to run a mini-course on the Bill of Rights and the States. He has recently completed a book entitled Natural Rights and the New Republicanism. Recent publications include "Completing the Constitution: The Fourteenth Amendment," "The Virtuous Pol- ity, the Accountable Polity: Free- dom and Responsibility in The Federalist, "On Social State," "Lin- coln and the Problem of Civil Reli- gion." He is also co-author and co-producer of "Mr. Adams and Mr. Jefferson," a nine-part radio drama, broadcast over the APR network in 1988-89 and repeated in 1993. He currently serves as Re- search Director for a television se- ries produced by KTCA-TV, enti- tled The American Revolution. Law and Courts Section Awards The Law and Courts Section of the APSA seeks nominations for the Congressional Quarterly Award for Best Paper by a graduate stu- dent. Any paper in the field of law and courts written by a political science graduate student between July 1993 and June 1994 is eligible. The winner will be announced at the 1994 APSA meeting and will receive a $200 prize. The deadline for nominations is July 1, 1994. Faculty who wish to nominate pa- pers should send one copy to each of the following members of the CQ Award Committee (3 copies total): Micheal Giles, Chair of CQ Com- mittee, Dept. of Political Science, Emory University, Atlanta GA 30322; Susan Sterett, Dept. of Po- litical Science, University of Den- ver, E. Evans at S. University, Denver CO 80208; Harry Hirsch, Dept. of Political Science, Univ. of Calif, at San Diego, 9500 Gilman Dr., La Jolla CA 92093. The Law and Courts Section will give two additional awards this year for distinguished scholarship in the field: the C. Herman Pritch- ett Award for the best book pub- lished in 1993, and the American Judicature Society Award for the best faculty paper given at the 1993 APSA meeting. The Pritchett Award committee includes Michael McCann (chair), Susan Lawrence, and C. Neal Tate, while the AJS Award committee includes Susan Gluck Mezey (chair), Kevin McGuire, and Richard Pacelle. Davis to Serve on Advisory Committee on Historical Diplomatic Documentation APSA President Charles O. Jones nominated Vincent Davis to serve as the Association's repre- sentative for a regular three-year term on the Secretary of State's Advisory Committee on Historical Diplomatic Documentation. The Secretary acted favorably on the nomination and Davis has now been appointed. Davis has been Director of the Patterson School of Diplomacy and International Com- merce and the Patterson Chair Pro- fessor of International Studies, University of Kentucky [Lexington 40506-0027] since 1971. In the sum- mer of 1993, he relinquished the directorship in order to devote more time to the professorship. Davis invites APSA members who may have experienced recent prob- lems with research access to official U.S. diplomatic archives, or who may have constructive suggestions for improving the access process, to communicate with him so that he may more effectively represent Association views in these matters. Foreign Student Travel Grants for 1994 APSA Annual Meeting Each year the American Political Science Association awards travel grants to advanced foreign graduate students enrolled in American uni- versities to enable these students to attend the APSA Annual Meeting. More than 30 foreign students are supported in this way each year. The student travel grants are made possible through the support of the Asia Foundation, the Huang Hsing Foundation, the APSA Council and other sources. The APSA selects the recipients on the basis of the following guide- lines: • Recipients of awards must be studying in the United States at the time the award is offered to them. • Recipients must be full-time graduate students. Foreign graduate students having refugee, immigrant, or tourist visa status are not eligible. • Applicants who are furthest along in their graduate course of study and intend to return to their native country once their course of study is completed will be given preference. • Applicants are not eligible for awards if they are receiving any 302 PS: Political Science & Politics 
work_q6h7duophjbsbigfw2ggrgyzci	----	[Review of] Jose Marti and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence San Jose State University From the SelectedWorks of Anne Fountain August 1, 2017 [Review of ] Jose Marti and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence Anne O Fountain, San Jose State University Available at: https://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/68/ http://www.sjsu.edu https://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/ https://works.bepress.com/anne_fountain/68/ 1 José Martí and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence. By Armando García de la Torre. Kingston, Jamaica: University of the West Indies Press, 2015. Photographs. Notes. Bibliography. Index. xiv, 225 pp. Paper. $30.00. José Martí is the subject of countless studies from a wide variety of disciplines. Martí was a patriot, an exile, a prolific author, and a commentator on US life and policies in the 1880s and 1890s. His profile as Cuba’s national hero and as a figure whose political legacy endures has prompted heated debate between Cuba and its exile community. His outsize role in Latin American history and literature ensures that many studies of his life and works begin with a ready-made agenda or a desire to recast, revise, or retranslate his words, not always successfully. This work is a welcome departure; its vision is fresh. Like Koichi Hagimoto’s 2013 Between Empires: Martí, Rizal, and the Intercolonial Alliance and Cuban scholar Cintio Vitier and Japanese writer Daisaku Ikeda’s José Martí, Cuban Apostle: A Dialogue of the same year, Armando García de la Torre’s new study situates Martí’s significance in a global context that is not linked to socialist solidarity and in a way that expands our view of Asian (including India) and Latin American intellectual connections All three texts take Martí beyond a US/Cuban transnational framework and underscore his universality. García de la Torre’s book conceives of Martí as a modern nation builder. Its author shows that Cuban independence as promoted by Martí was constructed in a framework of global ideas, including concepts derived from Ralph Waldo Emerson, Krausism, and Hindu philosophy. García de la Torre underscores the significance of the Caribbean (in contrast to Latin America as a whole) to Martí, highlighting the area as a crucible of global ethnicities: enslaved Africans, indentured Asians, and Europeans wealthy from slavery. The author traces a spiritually driven campaign on 2 the part of the Cuban against political, racial, and social injustice that can be seen as a global human rights agenda. And he describes the future Cuba that Martí envisioned as a divine entity, a “God-patria” based on a commitment to the welfare of all. García de la Torre sees this “divine nation state” (his wording) as one where sacrifice and duty joined with knowledge would prevail, an echo of Martí’s popular aphorism “Patria es humanidad” (p. 87). Some may find the author’s attribution to José Martí of the concept of a “divine nation state” overstated, and this portion of the work will likely stir debate. The major texts referred to by García de la Torre are the Manifesto of Montecristi—Martí’s statement, written in the Dominican Republic in spring 1895, declaring the goals and intentions of the Cuban Revolutionary Party—and two global-themed pieces from Martí’s magazine for children La Edad de Oro (The golden age), “The Story of Humanity, Told through Its Houses” and “Journey through the Land of the Annamese.” García de la Torre also points to Martí’s debt to Ralph Waldo Emerson and Hindu sacred wisdom and studies Martí’s lengthy 1885 biographical essay about US general Ulysses S. Grant. Studying Martí’s essay on Grant allows García de la Torre to point to Martí’s opinions about governance and nation building and to show how an understanding of the American Civil War and its aftermath could be instructive for Cuba, especially since Grant was both a military leader and a president. Within the field of José Martí and Cuba studies, the book contributes in ways beyond its global emphasis: it illustrates that Martí’s ideas about the United States and about race were complex, while clearly conveying how Martí opposed US imperialism and subverted prevailing racial and ethnic ideas. It delivers an essential truth: that many Martí studies are more about how critics interpret Martí than about how Martí perceived himself. Chapter 5, on Martí and race, is a useful compendium of the Cuban writer’s thoughts on race, profiling his relationships with three 3 prominent members of the African diaspora: General Antonio Maceo of the Cuban independence wars; Afro-Cuban Rafael Serra, who worked with Martí in New York; and Juan Gualberto Gómez, with whom Martí collaborated in Cuba. The range of scholarly sources used is sound and balanced, and documentation is thorough, although identification of sources and permissions for the illustrations would have been helpful. Translations from Martí’s works, done by the author, are a strength and a pleasure to read; Martí is notoriously difficult to translate effectively. Who will read this text? José Martí and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence should be on the bookshelves of all those who write about Martí and his role in Cuban history, and this is a good book for introducing many aspects of Martí to a general audience. While some portions seem a bit repetitive, the writing is clear and free of jargon. This book will be useful to a variety of readers. Anne Fountain, San José State University San Jose State University From the SelectedWorks of Anne Fountain August 1, 2017 [Review of] Jose Marti and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence tmpGysWHi.pdf 
work_qbb6dnwo4zfktia7gm4oe5l3ba	----	R A I S RESEARCH ASSOCIATION for INTERDISCIPLINARY STUDIESOCTOBER 2017 37 Juxtaposition of Eastern Management Styles and practices with Modern Management System and Concepts Nidhi Kaushal Research Scholar Department of Applied Science and Eng.at I.I.T. Roorkee, India nidhi.k3333@gmail.com Sanjit Mishra PhD, Associate Professor Department of Applied Science and Eng.at I.I.T. Roorkee, India sanjitmishra2001@yahoo.com ABSTRACT: This paper presents an analysis of the Indian management concepts in view of the changing world order while establishing their inter relatedness with the theories and practices developed in the West. Being followed by the leaders and entrepreneurs of the country right since the Vedic ages, the ancient Indians had developed their own management systems with the help of which they successfully carried out their business affairs. It is the hypothesis that the practices thus cultured and the concepts thus evolved, are relevant across the boundaries of time and space, and shall be immensely helpful for the organizations of the west as well. In this paper they have examined the organizational and other managerial skills in the works of spiritual- social reformers and other political leaders from India. The Indian perspective on management is based on the Purushartha (a key concept and denotes the four proper aims of a human life). It was the base model of management in ancient time which has been followed by management thinkers and leaders of India. KEY WORDS: Culture, Entrepreneur, Ethics, Globalization, Leadership, Management, Organization. Proceedings of the RAIS Conferece I 16-17 OCTOBER, 2017 38 1. Introduction According to Ravichandran (2009), ‘Management learning in India is predominately a derivative of western management thought and practice. Occasionally, management schools draw some inferences from Indian epics, shastras and practices. It may be worthwhile to notice that management itself as a discipline has evolved from fundamental disciplines of philosophy, psychology, economics, accounting, computer science, mathematics, statistics and industrial engineering. The modern management education in India emphasizes on performance and very little on purpose. It equips the young men and women to generate wealth and does not provide them the capacity to enjoy and share this wealth. It projects the use of the information technology as an enabler to improve efficiency but not as a supporting tool in resolving large complex social issues. It motivates individuals to accomplish their objectives with or without regard to means. As a rule, management education has completely detached itself from the under managed sectors. A handful of management institutions in this country are trying to realign the management education by using a multidimensional approach. The first dimension of this would focus on the individuals. The second dimension (of this education) would focus on the standard tools and techniques of management education. The third dimension would connect the individual to the society by compassion, entrepreneurship and social sensitivity.’ According to Devarajan (2013), ‘Art and science of management can be related to Hindu mythology - the connectivity between “Belief ” and “Business” and mythology is as much objective and pragmatic as the principles in management. Belief is the basis from which “sprouts every human enterprise, and every culture. But every belief is irrational and hence, a myth. Therefore, the study of stories, symbols, and rituals to decode the beliefs that they communicate is called mythology.” We used the term Business Sutra in Hindu mythology. The word Sutra means an aphorism – a terse statement.’ ‘The leader is a heroic individual described by Kishore (2010) of some sort who summons his followers to accomplish great things. There is a tendency to glorify leadership as an achievement or a sort of reward for one’s performance in a specific sphere of life. In other words, an individual with a greater degree of selflessness is the ideal candidate to be a leader of other human beings. A leader whose foundation is the idea of selflessness manifests this in many forms in his relationship with followers like 1. Freedom – The first ideal of such an enlightened leader would be ‘freedom’. A selfless leader would allow other individuals to operate with a high degree of freedom while providing an outline of what needs to be accomplished. A selfless 39 Kaushal & MIshRa: Juxtaposition of Eastern Management styles and practices leader, on the other hand, will demonstrate a lesser tendency to control simply due to the absence of any desire in him to stamp his individual personality on everything that his team produces. 2. Follower evolution centrality − A selfless leader would be constantly conscious of the specific evolutionary state of his follower, and would constantly try to raise him to higher levels of selflessness.’ 1.1 The outlook of management in Indian Literature According to Chatterji (2016), ‘Since ancient times in India, the Purusharthas has served as the road map for leading a successful and a peaceful life. They form the primary aims of the human life. The four guiding principles that are together known as Purusharthas are Dharma, Arhta, Kama and Moksha. The Purusharthas assume different meaning in different context, are non-translatable and subsume several words in one. One should pursue the right desires and perform the right actions which come under the framework of dharma. So moksha provides the vision for one’s life and Dharma provides the precise guidelines for one’s thoughts and actions and hence Moksha and Dharma are the important principles for leadership. The desire (Kama) to attain wealth and material wellbeing (Artha) is best when pursued in the framework of Dharma and Moksha. Purusharthas defined in terms of ethical leadership is given below: Dharma = Ethics Artha = Profit/ Material well being Kama= Desire/ Ambition Moksha = Inclusivity/ Freedom from Limited identities A proper balance among these Purushathas is required for successful leadership. So ethical leadership not only includes adhering to moral values but also develop a sense of inclusivity towards society and the environment. While ethics and moral values may bring objectivity to leadership, Moksha defined in this context, brings in the missing subjective components like happiness, contentment, agreeableness, and inclusivity, which are vital to ethical leadership. Sthairym is the quality that indicates resoluteness or perseverance. Swami Dayand Saraswati in his book value of value says, “When it comes to applying effort towards a goal, most of us find ourselves to be ‘aarambha surah’ that is ‘heroes in the beginning. We are the lions at first but then enthusiasm wanes.” It is in fact natural for a fledging Proceedings of the RAIS Conferece I 16-17 OCTOBER, 2017 40 manager to start off a mental bearing oriented to act ethically. Sthairym is the quality that can sustain and nurture this very orientation there by one in to an ethical leader.’ 1.2 Application of the Purusharthas According to Chatterji (2016), ‘Application of the Purusharthas means having dharma as the foundation for the pursuit of the Artha and Kama while keeping Moksha as the vision. In other words ones’s thoughts and actions should have ethics and responsibility as the foundation and not just materialistic goals. In an organizational setting, the way to accelerate it is through the iterative process of Sarvana (listening), Manana (Contemplation) and Nidhidhyasna (integration and practice). Sarvana can happen through the education and training process wherein the individual get systematically exposed to the literature expounding the Indian principles. Manana happens when a leader engages in thinking, discussing and reefing his understanding of the principles. Nidhidhyasana is the actual application of these principles in a live setting, fine tune based on the experiences.’ 2. The role of Purusharthas described in Bhagwad Gita and its implication in ethical leadership John Maxwell, author of “The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership” defines leadership as “influence, nothing more, nothing less”. He goes on to say: “He who thinks he leads but has no-one following him, is simply taking a walk.” This is a functional definition of leadership, one that basically says that a leader is someone who has followers. Leadership has been described by leadership educator Todd Duncan as “a total commitment to purpose, accompanied by the determination to carry it out.” This is a characteristic definition that describes the personal qualities of a leader. Bhagavad Gita describes these fundamental universal principles – as the underlying framework of the universe that reflects the purpose of the universal architect. Leaders who align their practices with these principles will be effective leaders. Leaders who align their goals and the goals of the organizations they steward with these principles will be authentic leaders – leaders who are empowered to create a better world. Leadership is absolutely crucial. Bhagavad Gita contains the timeless principles that will empower leaders to be effective and authentic leaders. According to Ravindra (2015), ‘There are four primary leadership roles as per the Bhagavad Gita: 41 Kaushal & MIshRa: Juxtaposition of Eastern Management styles and practices Lessons of Leadership from Bhagwad Gita Strategic Leadership Team-building Leadership Directive Leadership Operational Leadership Figure1. Leadership roles according to Bhagwad Gita 2.1 Lessons of Gita for modern manager defined by Nadkarni (2016) is as follows: 1. ‘When faced with a choice what is perishable or momentary and what is enduring or lasting, choose the lasting and fight for the lasting. 2. Have a higher purpose in life. Enjoy your life but don’t get bogged down to momentary sensual pleasures. Don’t aim at quick success through tempting. Through your work, contribute to the protection or welfare of the people, for that makes your life meaningful. 3. Consciously aim at moderation and make it a habit. Neither extreme abstinence nor indulgence is good for success; they can instead be self- destructive. 4. Mind is fickle, tempted too easily and can divert you from your higher aims. Proper management of mind is a key teaching of Gita as it leads to success and happiness in life. 5. Manage your anger as it can cloud your reasoning, lead to confusion and can divert you from your path. Try to keep it calm, cool and composed. Steady and focused mind is great asset. 6. Be focussed on your, but take all aspects of the problem at hand. Proceedings of the RAIS Conferece I 16-17 OCTOBER, 2017 42 7. Don’t lose opportunities of fighting for a good cause, if you have the aptitude of a fighter. Cowardice is worse than defeat. 8. Learn to adjust to change in circumstances even if adverse and try to innovate by adopting novel ideas, just as you discard old worn out cloths and wear new ones. Be enterprising. 9. Depend upon what is wise without being narrowly selfish. Be cautious that even knowledge or information may be at times masked by ignorance or misinformation, resulting in confusion and misleading you. 10. Nothing inferior in work. All works and their fruits are offered to God.’ According to Shrivastava (2016),’No work of Indian literature has ever been revered as much as the sacred Bhagavada Gita; which not only continues to inspire Indians even today, but also remains admirable even to this day in the western countries. Over the years, these words of wisdom from within Bhagavada Gita has offered humans some respite from restlessness, complications and unhappiness; helping them sail into the light of calmness. The practical teachings mentioned in Bhagavada Gita has a message for every human; in fact, it is believed that an individual can seek answers to almost every question about Universe, his/her Past, Present and Future, in this holy book. The famous personalities of the world inspired by Bhagwad Gita are Mahatma Gandhi, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Albert Einstein, Annie Besant, Hermann Hesse, Dr. Albert Schweitzer, Carl Jung, Aldous Huxley, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Rudolph Steiner, Henry David Thoreau and Sunita Williams.’ 3. Bhagwad Gita as a source of inspiration According to Sen (2005), ‘ Krishna’s moral position has also been eloquently endorsed by many philosophical and literary commentators across the world, such as Christopher Isherwood and T.S.Eliot. This admiration for Gita, and for Krishna‘s arguments in particularly, has been a lasting phenomenon in parts of European culture. It was spectacularly praised by Wilhelmvon Humboldt as the most beautiful, perhaps the only true philosophical song existing in any known language.’ We are analyzing the leadership and management skills of Indian leaders in context of Indian perspective of management. It is an attempt to enrich the management studies from eastern or Indian approach of management. Leaders such that, Mahatma Gandhi, Netaji Subhash Chandra Bose, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Sir Aurobindo are prominent personalities of India who lived their life according to lessons of Gita. They always 43 Kaushal & MIshRa: Juxtaposition of Eastern Management styles and practices inspired, motivated and strengthen themselves through reading Gita. According to Hindu (2014), ‘Many of the most prominent freedom fighters were inspired by the Bhagavad Gita. Many even went to the gallows and were executed with the Gita in their hands. The Swadeshi movement of Bengal in 1905 began with a gathering of 50,000 people on the streets on the streets of Calcutta, each with the Gita in their hands. The crowds proceeded to the Kali Temple where they vowed to boycott British goods and drive the British from their lands. We have exemplified famous Indian leader and drawing inferences of leadership and management from them. 3.1 Mahatma Gandhi a Non-Violent leader “A small body of determined spirits fired by an unquenchable faith in their mission can alter the course of history.” - Mahatma Gandhi According to Rao, (n.d.), ‘Mahatma Gandhi exemplifies leadership and managerial capabilities in the most myriad and trying situations. One can take various lessons in Self-Management, Leadership, Emotional Intelligence, Negotiation, Strategy, Economics, Communication, Rural Development, Social Inclusion, Education, Entrepreneurship, Women Empowerment, Law, Ethics and Corporate Governance from his work and methods. Self-management and a constant strife towards improvement was the hallmark of Mahatma Gandhi’s thoughts and practices. Mahatma Gandhi definition of Leadership –“I suppose leadership at one time meant muscles; but today it means getting along with people.” 3.1 The prominence of Bhagwad Gita in the life of Mahatma Gandhi ‘Inspirations described by Byles (n.d.) both mould and give direction to life. Sources of Inspiration could be personal and impersonal. As for personal as well as impersonal sources of Inspiration, M. Gandhi himself has said! “Three moderns have left a deep impress on my life and captivated me. Raychandbhai by his living contact; Tolstoy by his book,” The Kingdom of God is within you; and Ruskin by his ‘Unto This Last’. Besides these three personalities, Gopal Krishna Gokhale and the Gita and the Bible were lifelong sources of inspiration for Gandhi. Gandhi read the Gita for the first time in England, i.e. Sir Edwin Arnold’s “The song Celestial”, and it made a deep impression on his mind and Gandhi regarded the Gita par excellence for the knowledge of Truth and it afforded him invaluable help in his moments of gloom. The Gita became Gandhi’s lifelong companion and guide, especially the last eighteen verses of the second chapter of the Gita. Gandhi derived the Gospel of selfless action Proceedings of the RAIS Conferece I 16-17 OCTOBER, 2017 44 or duty from the Gita. His commentary on the Gita reflects his life and mission. Gandhi said that “no one is competent to offer Satyagraha unless he has a living faith in God”. And the Bhagavad-Gita, to which he would always turn for inspiration, is the allegorical description, not of a Satyagraha campaign, but of the quest of the human soul for union with the Supreme or God. Further, in the eyes of the Gita the outward work that Gandhi did in liberating India and raising the depressed classes, is of no more importance than the work of a humble scavenger, while Gandhi himself ceaselessly reiterated that no work is superior or inferior. It was this quest for God that determined Gandhi’s every action. And let us remember that when he said Truth is God, Truth did not mean only devotion to material facts. Far more important for him was devotion to the Inner Light that the rishis of India and the authors of the Upanishads told of and experienced. It is that all work; say both the Gita and Gandhi must be offered to the Lord, or the Supreme, as a sacrifice, something to be made holy because it is done as a service to all. When the universe was created, simultaneously the law of sacrifice, the opposite of creation, was brought into being, for the universe is composed of pairs of opposites. Gandhi says that “Sacrifice means exerting one for the benefit of others, in a word, service. Look upon all creatures as Gods.” That is to say, we must sacrifice ourselves for all, giving our work freely and asking nothing in return.’ The Tamil work Thirukurral, written by Thiruvalluvar has numerous couplets on the qualities of a leader like, ‘A person worth to be called as a king/leader who never deviates from the path of dharma, who wipes injustice from his kingdom and whose military order is never discredited.’ Hence, it is imperative that the leader cultivate the right attitudes governed by the right values to be a fit role model (Chatterji 2016).’ So the ideas and practices in the ancient Indian or eastern texts have quite distinct role in the western management concepts. Conclusion There is a great wisdom in primeval works of writings because they were written to empower the people and act as archetypes for civilization of all kinds. The code of conducts, written centuries ago contained amply source of learning for every discipline of the studies and modern theories just a new form of them. The contemporary management styles and practices developed are assimilation of ancient texts from the east. They provide insight to the leaders, managers as well as to the organizations for ethical and smooth running of the business operations and their personal life. The study of leaders who got insight through them strengthens this fact. This great, 45 Kaushal & MIshRa: Juxtaposition of Eastern Management styles and practices rich and effective writings like Bhagwad Gita inspired and always motivate modern managers and proved that our long established literature is a powerful foundation for standards of life and management. References Byles, Marie Beuzeville. “Gandhi Through the Eyes of the Gita.” mkgandhi. n.d. http://www. mkgandhi.org/articles/Marie%20Byles.htm (accessed July 4, 2017). Chatterji, Madhumita, Laszlo Zsolnai. 2016. Ethical Leadership: Indian and European Spiritual Approaches. Berlin, Germany: Springer. Devarajan, R. “The word Sutra means an aphorism – a terse statement.” Thehindu. 06 May 2013. http://www.thehindu.com/books/books-reviews/an-indian-view-of-management/ article4689764.ece (accessed July 4, 2017). Hindu History. “The Gita and the Freedom of India.” Hinduhistory. 25 January 2014. http:// www.hinduhistory.info/the-gita-and-the-freedom-of-india/ (accessed July 04, 2017). Kishore, Mohit. “Selfless leadership – An Indian perspective.” Thehindubusinessline. 12 July 2010. http://www.thehindubusinessline.com/todays-paper/selfless-leadership-an- indian-perspective/article1015759.ece (accessed July 04, 2017). Nadkarni, M. V. 2016. The Bhagavad-Gita for the Modern Reader: History, interpretations and philosophy. Abingdon, United Kingdom: Routledge. Ravichandran, N. “A perspective on management education in India.” Financialexpress. 12 Octo- ber 2009. http://www.financialexpress.com/archive/a-perspective-on-management-ed- ucation-in-india/527793/ (accessed July 4, 2017). Ravindra, NV. “Bhagavad Gita And Its Influence On Leadership.” Thehansindia. 29 April 2015. http://www.thehansindia.com/posts/index/Life-Style/2015-04-29/Bhagavad-Gita- and-its-influence-on-Leadership/147597 (accessed July 04, July). Sen, Amartya. 2005. The Argumentative Indian. London, England: Penguin. Shrivastava, Shruti. “Legendary people from around the world who were inspired by Bhagavad Gita and they are not Indians.” Speakingtree. 27 June 2016. http://www.speakingtree. in/allslides/non-indians-isnpired-by-bhagavada-gita/famous-people-inspired-by- bhagavad-gita-430991 (accessed July 04, 2017). 
work_qcbht6yjxngtzpnsqrxx4koudy	----	DOI 10.1378/chest.08-2730 2009;136;578-582Chest Marc A. Shampo and Edward C. Rosenow III A History of Tuberculosis on Stamps http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/content/136/2/578.full.html services can be found online on the World Wide Web at: The online version of this article, along with updated information and ISSN:0012-3692 )http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/site/misc/reprints.xhtml( written permission of the copyright holder. this article or PDF may be reproduced or distributed without the prior Dundee Road, Northbrook, IL 60062. All rights reserved. No part of Copyright2009by the American College of Chest Physicians, 3300 Physicians. It has been published monthly since 1935. is the official journal of the American College of ChestChest © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/content/136/2/578.full.html http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/site/misc/reprints.xhtml http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ A History of Tuberculosis on Stamps Marc A. Shampo, PhD; and Edward C. Rosenow, III, MD, Master FCCP Tuberculosis, only a few decades ago, was believed to be under control and decreasing in incidence, in both developed and developing countries. A number of scientists and physicians have contributed to the understanding of tuberculosis and have been honored on postage stamps by several countries around the world. This article contains brief histories of these individuals and depictions of the postage stamps commemorating them for their contributions to the better understanding of the disease. (CHEST 2009; 136:578 –582) T uberculosis, a disease caused by several speciesof mycobacteria, has afflicted humankind for many thousands of years. It is a worldwide disease and in many countries is a major cause of death.1 After declining in incidence for a number of years, it has begun to increase in frequency, especially in developing and underdeveloped countries. This is primarily because of the AIDS epidemic. Ninety percent of the cases of tuberculosis diagnosed are pulmonary tuberculosis caused by Mycobacterium tuberculosis. The modern treatment of tuberculosis has been complicated both by resistance to drug therapy and by intermingling of the disease with HIV. Many famous persons have been victims of tuber- culosis, as follows: English poets John Keats (1795– 1821) and Percy Shelley (1792–1822); American writers Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862) and Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882); French poet Alfred de Musset (1810 –1857); French novelist Honoré de Balzac (1799 –1849); English novelists the Brontë sisters (Charlotte, 1816 –1855; Emily, 1818 –1848; and Anne, 1820 –1849); Scottish novelist Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 –1894); British administrator-financier Cecil Rhodes (1853–1902); Italian violin virtuoso Nicolò Paganini (1782–1840); and Polish composer Frederic Chopin (1810 –1849). In the first half of the 20th century, many pulmo- nologists entered their profession because they themselves had tuberculosis. One of the original pulmonary journals was Tubercle. The following eight historical figures associated with tuberculosis have had stamps issued in their honor: René Laënnec, Jean Antoine Villemin, Rob- ert Koch, Carlo Forlanini, Léon C. A. Calmette, Jean-Marie Camille Guérin, Selman A. Waksman, and Edward Trudeau. The only one issued by the United States was for Trudeau. In many countries but not all, for a stamp to be issued, the individual must be deceased (in the United States one excep- tion is a living president after his term of office). The approval goes through a citizens’ advisory commit- tee. The whole process can become very political. In many smaller countries the sale of postage stamps is their sole source of income. As a result many differ- ent stamps are printed. René Laënnec René Laënnec made a number of important con- tributions to the diagnosis of various diseases. In 1816, he invented the stethoscope, which made possible the early and more accurate identification of diseases of the chest. Laënnec was born on February 12, 1781, in Quimper, Brittany, in northwestern France. He received his MD degree from the École de Santé in Paris in 1804, after which he established Manuscript received November 19, 2008; revision accepted April 6, 2009. Affiliation: From the Division of Pulmonary and Critical Care Medicine, Mayo Clinic School of Medicine, Rochester, MN. © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians. Reproduction of this article is prohibited without written permission from the American College of Chest Physicians (www.chestjournal.org/site/ misc/reprints.xhtml). Correspondence to: Edward C. Rosenow, III, MD, Mayo Clinic, Pulmonary Department, Mayo Clinic, E 18 B, Rochester, MN 55905-0001; e-mail: rosenow.edward@mayo.edu DOI: 10.1378/chest.08-2730 CHEST Special Feature 578 Special Feature © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ a successful private practice in Paris and also held a succession of positions at the leading medical insti- tutions in France. For 3 years after he invented the stethoscope, Laënnec gathered data on diseases and conditions of the chest and correlated them with findings at autopsy. He published these findings in 1819 in his classic book De l’Auscultation Médiate. In this book, Laënnec described his new method of diagnosis by use of the stethoscope and provided details on the sounds of the heart and lungs in various afflictions, such as edema, tuberculosis, and pneumonia. Dur- ing his lifetime, Laënnec had symptoms of pulmo- nary tuberculosis and probably had asthma. He died of pulmonary tuberculosis in Kerlouarnec, France, on August 3, 1826, when he was only 45 years old. In 1952, France honored him on a stamp2 (Please note that it is not necessary to go back to the catalog year the stamp was issued; the stamp will be in the current year catalog. Five to seven volumes are published every year at approx- imately $100 per volume. Most libraries carry these.) [Fig 1]. Jean Antoine Villemin Jean Antoine Villemin, a French physician, proved in 1867 that tuberculosis was an infectious disease, transmitted by contact from humans to animals and from one animal to another. His most important work, Studies on Tuberculosis, published in 1868, described his careful experiments in which he proved that sputum from a tubercular patient, fluid from tubercular cavities, and material from a scrof- ulous gland, when injected subcutaneously, pro- duced tubercular lesions in rabbits. Villemin was born on January 28, 1827, in Prey, Vosges, in northeastern France. Starting in 1849, he studied at Bruyères and at the military medical school in Strasbourg, qualifying as an army physician in 1853. In 1853, he went to Val-de-Grâce, the military medical school in Paris, for further study, receiving his MD degree in 1863. In the same year, he was appointed professor at Val-de-Grâce, where he remained until his retirement. While at Val-de-Grâce he observed that healthy young men from the country often developed tuberculosis while living in the close quarters of military barracks. Aware that glanders, a disease similar to tuberculosis, is transmitted in horses by inoculation, he began the study of tuberculosis. Villemin died in Paris on October 6, 1892, and was honored on a stamp3 issued by France in 1951 (Fig 2). Robert Koch The foremost figure in the field of tuberculosis studies is Robert Koch. In 1905, Koch received the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine for his discovery of the causes of tuberculosis and cholera. He was born on December 11, 1843, in Clausthal, near Hannover, in north central Germany. After receiving his medical degree from the University of Göttingen in 1866, he practiced in a number of small towns and villages in Germany. In 1880, Koch was appointed to the Imperial Health Office in Berlin, and in 1882 he announced the discovery of the tubercle bacillus. In 1885, Koch was appointed professor of hygiene at the University of Berlin and director of the new Berlin Hygiene Institute. In 1890, he introduced tuberculin, a solu- tion containing growth products of the bacillus, as a cure for tuberculosis, provoking worldwide excite- Figure 2. Jean Antoine Villemin (1827–1892). Figure 1. René Laënnec (1782–1826). www.chestjournal.org CHEST / 136 / 2 / AUGUST, 2009 579 © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ ment. Although tuberculin proved harmful, it came to be used as an indicator of previous exposure to the tubercle bacillus (tuberculin test). Effective manage- ment of tuberculosis was not achieved until antibi- otic drugs became available many years later. Koch died of heart failure on May 27, 1910, in Baden- Baden, Germany. He was honored on a stamp4 issued by Germany in 1944 to commemorate the centenary of his birth (Fig 3). Carlo Forlanini Carlo Forlanini, Italian medical scholar and edu- cator, is credited with providing the first definitive treatment of pulmonary tuberculosis: artificial pneu- mothorax. This novel approach (collapsing the af- fected lung and the cavity within it) introduced a new era in treatment, although it was much opposed at the time. Forlanini reported his results in 1906, after 12 years of experience with the method. It is still used occasionally, with some refinements. Forlanini was born on June 11, 1847, in Milan. He received his MD degree from the University of Pavia in Italy in 1870. In the wake of the discoveries made by Robert Koch, Forlanini became interested in the pathology of diseases of the lungs, particularly pul- monary tuberculosis. He began his research in 1882, when he first postulated his theory of pulmonary therapy. From 1882 to 1906, he introduced many modifications and refinements in an effort to im- prove the efficiency of artificial pneumothorax. During the last years of is life, Forlanini served as a professor of medicine at the University of Pavia. He died on May 26, 1918, in Nervi, a small seaport on the Gulf of Genoa in Italy. In 1953, Belgium honored him on a stamp,5 the surtax of which was used for antituberculosis research (Fig 4). Léon C. A. Calmette Léon C. A. Calmette, codeveloper of the antitu- berculosis vaccine Bacillus Calmette-Guérin with Jean-Marie Camille Guérin, was born in Nice on July 12, 1863, and received his MD degree from L’École Médécine Navale de Brest. In 1865, he obtained his doctorate from the University of Paris. During his lifetime, he served as a physician in many different parts of the world (Gabon, Newfoundland, Hong Kong, and Saigon). He returned to France to be- come head of the Pasteur Institute at Lille, where he established the first tuberculosis dispensary in Eu- rope, and thereafter he devoted his life to the study of tuberculosis. While using a virulent bovine strain of the tubercle bacillus, Calmette found, after 13 years of study, that the strain was nonvirulent but still tuberculinogenic enough to incite antibodies. The resulting vaccine, introduced in 1921, was called Bacillus Calmette-Guérin. In 1922, he authorized the use of Bacillus-Calmette-Guérin in infants with tuberculous parents, and by 1924 the vaccine was being distributed generally. Several new vaccines are currently being developed. The first recombinant antituberculosis vaccine entered clinical trials in the United States in 2004. Figure 3. Robert Koch (1843–1910). Figure 4. Carlo Forlanini (1847–1918). 580 Special Feature © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ Calmette died of infectious hepatitis, cardiac col- lapse, and acute peritonitis on October 29, 1933. He was honored on a stamp6 issued in 1948 by his native France (Fig 5). Jean-Marie Camille Guérin The other contributor to the vaccine was Jean-Marie Camille Guérin, a veterinarian surgeon who was born in Poitiers, France, on December 22, 1872. In 1892, Guérin enrolled at L’École Nationale Vétérinaire d’Alfort, from which he graduated as a veterinary surgeon in 1896. He worked with Calmette from 1908 to 1921, and together they produced the successful vaccine. In 1917, Calmette was named assistant direc- tor of the Pasteur Institute in Paris, and he appointed Guérin head of Services de la Tuberculose at Lille. Guérin died on June 9, 1961, and was honored on a stamp7 issued by Monaco in 1996 (Fig 6). Selman A. Waksman Selman A. Waksman in 1944 introduced the anti- biotic streptomycin, the first effective drug treat- ment for tuberculosis, for which he was awarded the 1952 Nobel Prize for Physiology and Medicine. Waksman was born on July 22, 1888, in Priluka in the Ukraine. In 1910, he immigrated to the United States, and he obtained a bachelor’s degree in agri- culture from Rutgers University in New Jersey in 1915. In 1918, he obtained a PhD degree in bio- chemistry from the University of California and returned to Rutgers as a microbiologist at the New Jersey State Agricultural Experiment Station. Early in 1943, with one of his graduate students, Waksman developed streptomycin, a material found to be active against many Gram-negative organisms, in- cluding the causative agent of tuberculosis. Waksman retired from active research in 1958. He died in 1973 and was honored on a stamp8 issued by Gambia in 1989 (Fig 7). Edward Livingston Trudeau Edward Livingston Trudeau was honored on a stamp9 issued by the United States in 2008 for Figure 5. Léon C. A. Calmette (1863–1933). Figure 7. Selman A. Waksman (1888 –1973). Figure 8. Edward Livingston Trudeau (1848 –1915).Figure 6. Jean-Marie Camille Guérin (1872–1961). www.chestjournal.org CHEST / 136 / 2 / AUGUST, 2009 581 © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ establishing the first successful sanitorium in the United States for the open-air treatment of tubercu- losis (Fig 8). Although the main treatment for pa- tients with tuberculosis now is hospitalization with drugs and possibly surgery, until 1945 these patients were often treated by placement in a sanitorium on the theory that exposure to open air was beneficial. Trudeau was born in 1848 in New York City into a family of physicians. When he was in his late teens, his elder brother contracted tuberculosis, and Ed- ward nursed him. He was deeply affected by the death of his brother 3 months later. When he was 20 years old (1868), Trudeau en- rolled in the College of Physicians and Surgeons at Columbia College (now Columbia University), where he completed his medical training in 1871. In 1873, Trudeau was himself diagnosed with tuber- culosis. He went to the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York and subsequently regained his health. In 1876, he went to Saranac Lake (New York) and established a successful medical prac- tice there. In 1882, after reading about the successful treatment of tuberculosis with the “rest cure” in cold, clear mountain air, Trudeau founded the Adirondack Cot- tage Sanatorium. It was reported that the British novelist Robert Louis Stevenson, suffering from tuber- culosis, spent several months at this sanitorium. After a fire destroyed his laboratory at the sanito- rium, in 1894, Trudeau organized the Saranac Labora- tory for the study of tuberculosis. He died in 1915. Acknowledgments Author contributions: Dr. Shampo supplied the stamps and data and contributed to the writing of the manuscript. Dr. Rosenow wrote and revised the manuscript. Both authors con- tributed to idea conception. Financial/nonfinancial disclosures: The authors have no con- flicts of interest to declare. References 1 Dormandy, T. The white death: a history of tuberculosis. New York, NY: University Press, 2000; 433 2 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. 685. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1952 3 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. 656. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1951 4 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. B251. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1944 5 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. B552. Sidney, OH: Scott Publish- ing Co, 1953 6 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. B232. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1948 7 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. 2012. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1996 8 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. 910. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 1989 9 Scott Postage Stamp Catalog No. 3432A. Sidney, OH: Scott Publishing Co, 2008 582 Special Feature © 2009 American College of Chest Physicians by guest on October 15, 2011chestjournal.chestpubs.orgDownloaded from http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/ DOI 10.1378/chest.08-2730 2009;136; 578-582Chest Marc A. Shampo and Edward C. Rosenow III A History of Tuberculosis on Stamps October 15, 2011This information is current as of http://chestjournal.chestpubs.org/content/136/2/578.full.html Updated Information and services can be found at: Updated Information & Services http://www.chestpubs.org/site/misc/reprints.xhtml found online at: Information about reproducing this article in parts (figures, tables) or in its entirety can be Permissions & Licensing http://www.chestpubs.org/site/misc/reprints.xhtml Information about ordering reprints can be found online: Reprints "Services" link to the right of the online article. 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work_qdilnelqlzexfoesggbo7ih45q	----	Transform and Live!!!! M Qasim Bughio and Samina Najeeb Abstract:The paper aims to study the socio political and economic affairs of the world in the context of the Post-modern philosophy. The paper appeals to the scholars to play their role in making this dismal world into a saner and safer world. The challenge that we all face today is to live responsibly, with cooperation, tolerance, and better judgment amid powers that shape the destiny of this world. We pay tribute to all religions and all lovers of humanity who have fought incessantly for the common good of mankind. We urge the privileged people of this world to be involved in community work for the alleviation of poverty and injustice as well as the teachers of this world to imbibe the values of justice, tolerance and equality in their young disciples and all those who are waiting to be lead. Key words: scholars, peace, tolerance, better world. 1. Introduction Aristotle, the disciple of Plato, is believed to be the father of philosophy. He is the first philosopher who talked about the conception of an ideal life of intellectual pursuit, linking the lives of individual human beings “qua” in a social context. His speculations on the State and government are the basis of the constitutions of several countries. His views about moral deliberation, the rights of individuals and that the aim of democracy being the common good of man, provide the bedrock for the world democracies today. But we have no doubt that had he been alive today, he would have been denounced as a dangerous radical. For it was none other than Aristotle, who stated that, in a perfect democracy , there will be a small number of rich and a small minority of very impoverished, who will use their rights to take the property of the rich. Aristotle, Alexander’s teacher, believed in equality and happiness to be the right of beings. Another great intellectual, a devotee of truth was Socrates, who gave up his life examining and upholding truth. He believed that true knowledge is acquired through understanding what values like virtue, piety, good and evil, mean. These were to name a few stalwarts of the ancient world, who spent their lives in searching for truth. 2. Discussion Equality and justice have been the goals which the conscious beings have always aspired to. As we stroll down the memory lane, we remember quite distinctly an American maverick, Rosa Parks, a modest seamstress on her way home from work refused to give up her seat on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama. That single act of defiance on December 1, 1955 led to the civil rights movement and she is respectfully remembered as the mother of this movement. She was a courageous and honorable woman with extensive education. A high school diploma was a rare and major accomplishment for an Afro-American woman of her day. Conscious of her rights, she refused to budge an inch or from acceding to the demand to give up her seat as she boarded the bus, because she was tired of giving in to injustice. Another man of unmatched intellectual skills was Martin Luther King Jr. a priest and a radical worker for civil rights for members of the black American race, a member of the executive committee of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, the leading organization of its kind in America. In December 1955, he accepted the leadership of the first great Negro nonviolent demonstration of contemporary times in the United States, the bus boycott. The boycott lasted 382 days. On December 21, 1956, when the Supreme Court of the United States had declared unconstitutional the laws requiring 11 2012 2nd International Conference on Social Science and Humanity IPEDR vol.31 (2012) © (2012) IACSIT Press, Singapore segregation on buses, Negroes and whites travelled in the buses as equals. He was assassinated, standing in the balcony of his motel room in Memphis, Tennessee, where he was to lead a protest march in sympathy with the striking garbage workers of that city. He is still respected as the champion of human rights by the world. Another martyr for the human cause, whose memory lives on, even today, in our hearts, is the respected poet from Gaza, Rachel Corrie, a champion of equal rights, who never backed down. Her deep empathy for the human kind made her stand up in front of a bulldozer, about to pull down the home of a Palestinian family, and be crushed by it. Politicians like Nelson Mandela and Mahatma Gandhi have left a deep imprint on the world, and inspired millions. These humanitarians, irrespective of their creed, race or religion are respected globally, whether living or assassinated, their views, actions, and words have transcended time and entered into history and our hearts, forever. The major challenges that confront our age are wide, ranging from environmental endangerment to poverty, from the struggle for human rights to genetic manipulation, from extremism to legacies of violence, warfare, and the global spread of physiological and spiritual diseases, all of which require a workable moral framework for addressing these problems. In a global village such as ours, the denizens must define core values aimed at respecting and enhancing the integrity of human beings. The challenge that we face today is to live responsibly, with cooperation, tolerance, and better judgment amid powers that shape the destiny of this world. Mahatma Gandhi, a champion of non-violence in modern times, voiced his apprehensions about the contemporary world, when he warned us a century ago that “Civilization is the encouragement of differences. Civilization thus becomes a synonym of democracy. Force, violence, pressure, or compulsion with a view to conformity, is both uncivilized and undemocratic." (Miller, p 8) Though the practice of physical bondage or slavery has been abolished, but the intellectuals like Milton Freedom, believes that the word freedom has become synonymous with capitalism, as it is evident from the title of his book, Capitalism and Freedom. Although the story of his world was told in the following manner by Charles Dickens , a great English writer of the Victorian age, yet he seems to be talking of the world as it exists today in his novel, “The Hard Times” “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of wisdom; it was the age of foolishness. It was the epoch of belief; it was the epoch of incredulity. It was the season of light; it was the season of Darkness. It was the spring of hope; it was the winter of despair. We had everything before us, we had nothing before us. We were all going direct to Heaven; we were all going direct the other way.” Ralph Waldo Emerson, a famous American poet once remarked and I quote that, "God enters by a private door into every individual" (Emerson, p72). This statement might be relevant a century ago but it does not hold true today. It is difficult to categorize people as religious or non-religious today, because of a wide range of beliefs within these religions themselves and also because of the cultural and social impact on the world religions. Judaism, Christianity, and Islam are the three major religions today, with a considerable number of followers spread across the world. The reverence for Prophet Abraham is a common nexus that ties them together. Despite their shared beliefs and deep reverence for the prophets, they have failed to live as brothers or members of the Abrahamic clan. Most of the serious religiously motivated conflicts, mass crimes against humanity and genocides in the 20th century have been between Muslims, Christians and Jews. The Bible and the holy Quran teach ethics of reciprocity and tolerance to its followers. In spite of the different name used for God, Muslims assert that they believe in the same deity as the Judeo-Christian religions. The all encompassing thought of Islam is evident in multifarious verses in the holy Quran: "We believe in Allah, and in what has been revealed to us and what was revealed to Abraham, Isma'il, Isaac, Jacob, and the Tribes, and in (the Books) given to Moses, Jesus, and the prophets, from their Lord: We make no distinction between one and another among them, and to Allah do we bow our will (in Islam)." (The holy Quran, 3:84). "Those with Faith, those who are Jews, and the Christians and Sabaeans, all who have Faith in Allah and the Last Day and act rightly, will have their reward with their Lord. They will feel no fear and will know no sorrow." (The holy Quran, 2: 62). 12 You will also come across many Biblical passages asking for tolerance and suffering for the sake of righteousness: Let all bitterness and wrath and anger and clamor and slander be put away from you, along all malice. Be kind to one another. (Ephesians 4:31-32). Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth. (Matthew 5:5). The holy Quran mentions with great reverence the Christian scholars, while addressing its’ believers, it says clearly" ...You will find the people most affectionate to those who have faith are those who say, 'We are Christians.' That is because some of them are priests and monks and because they are not arrogant." (The Holy Quran 5:82). Having said that, we could have expected the priests and pastors, the knowledgeable literati of our world to bring the people of this world, together. Alas!! The world witnessed priests instigating people to burn the Holy book of the Muslim faith. In Foucault’s view (1970) society is always historically situated. Foucault opines that every phase of history is an episteme. Harland (1987) describes an episteme to be a “set of rules, which are not consciously grasped, but which shape our thoughts and speech”. This rivalry between Islam and Judeo-Christianity has its roots going back to the history of this world. We can thus infer that the material and the socio-cultural factors shape human consciousness. Marmaduke Pickthall, the author of Tolerance in Islam: An Abridged Version of the 1927 lecture remarked that: “If Europe had known as much of Islam, as Muslims knew of Christendom, in those days, those mad, adventurous, occasionally chivalrous and heroic, but utterly fanatical outbreak known as the Crusades could not have taken place, for they were based on a complete misapprehension.” Though writers of the land of America may be talking of the Clash of Civilizations, but Foucault guides us that every age has many discourses and the nature of discourse is determined by the power patterns of the society. As researchers, we wholeheartedly support the post-modernist philosopher Foucault that truth is a political phenomenon. Nothing excludes social context, not even religious beliefs. Social context is a world view of a community that dominates a particular period in history. The Muslims have been persecuted and their Prophet ridiculed, internationally, especially after 9/11. The arrogant attitude of America en bloc and the helplessness that the people of the third world feel as they fall prey to the lawlessness, poverty, injustice, joblessness and inflation finds outlet in intolerance and aggression; It is a response to an unfair global system with double standards (violation of human rights by Israel, US, the attitude towards veil, caricature issue etc.) and unequal opportunity (veto system in the UNO) are the cause of frustration particularly when it is felt that Muslim rulers are not voicing the sentiment of their people. The Hosni Mubarak incident in Egypt is a witness to the kind of leadership that is no more acceptable to the oppressed people of the world. Instead of giving a religious fervor to the strained relations between the powerful and the downtrodden it is the moral obligation of the intellectuals of the world to show the world that there would have been no Talibans in Afghanistan, if their leaders would have served the Afghan nation, conscientiously. This war on terror has annihilated innocent civilians more than the terrorists. We ask the people of the world that, do we want to stain our hands with the innocent blood of women and children? Or is it in the interest of the NATO allies that we keep fighting so that their weapon manufacturing industries may thrive?? Towards the end of the twentieth century, the world population rose rapidly, the rich nations became richer and the poor were fast becoming poorer. The people of the third world migrated to America in numbers, thinking it to be a land of opportunities. Economic boom reached to great heights in America. New drugs were discovered. The 1960s and 70s brought material prosperity to the West. Paul Krugman (2000), an economist notes “on sheer material grounds one would almost surely prefer to be poor today than upper middle class a century ago” (Myers, 2002: 632). So materially speaking, this was a historic period where a common citizen of the civilized world enjoyed all the material comforts, unknown to the royalty of the past. In the developing countries people were aware of this high quality of life and clamored for it. According to a United Nations report published in 1973 on “Multinational Corporations in World Development” by the Department of Economic and Social Affairs (Myers, 2002: 96). "The United States accounts for more than half of multinational corporations having total annual sales of manufactures of more than $1 billion, and also for more than half of the total estimated book value of investment, which by 1971 had reached 13 approximately $160 billion. The United States, together with the United Kingdom, France and the Federal Republic of Germany, accounts for 80 per cent of foreign activities by multinational corporations. Multinational corporations, especially those of Japan, the Federal Republic of Germany, and the United States, have grown dramatically in the last two decades, reflecting rapid post-war economic growth, technological advances and the intensified search for sources of raw materials and market outlets, and shifts in the relative economic power of major industrial countries. Although during the 1960s multinational corporation activities grew faster in developed host countries than in developing, and although the latter have received only half as much of the total estimated stock of direct investment as the developed countries, the presence of foreign multinational corporations in developing countries is generally of greater relative significance, since their economies together account for much less than half of the total of developed market economies. The distribution of investment in developing countries still reflects historical ties, some of a formerly colonial nature." (http://unctc.unctad.org/data/e73iia11a.pdf, retrived on Nov 29, 2010 at 5 p.m) Almost all the largest multinational firms are American, Japanese, or West European. Such corporations have had worldwide influence—over other business entities and even over governments, many of which have imposed controls on them. If one was to travel the world, Coca Cola, Pepsi, Mc Donalds, KFC, Levi and Nike products would practically be found everywhere. Lever Bros, Colgate & Palmolive, are some of the leading Multinationals, whose products we buy for the satisfaction of our needs and desires. This proliferation of American products across the globe is more than a mere accident. As a byproduct of globalization, it is part of a larger trend in the conscious dissemination of American attitudes and values that is often referred to as cultural imperialism. Herbert Schiller defines cultural imperialism as: “…the sums of the processes by which a society is brought into the modern world system, and how its dominating stratum is attracted, pressured, forced, sometimes bribed into shaping social institutions to correspond to or even to promote the values and structures of the dominant center of the system” (1976: 69). Thus, cultural imperialism involves much more than simple consumer goods; it involves the dissemination of ostensibly American principles, such as freedom and democracy. Although the rise of individualism and industrialization did bring confidence and enhanced self-gratification to the post modern man, but the world seemed to have forgotten the teachings of the gospel of Isaiah, which states explicitly “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your labor for that which does not satisfy?” C.E.O, Lexus advertising agency, trying to deny the popular adage, money can’t buy happiness, once remarked that “Who ever said money can’t buy happiness isn’t spending it right” (Myers, 1998: 640). This concept of materialism did gratify the desires, but man had to pay a heavy price for it, the loss of spirituality and the solace of inner peace and contentment!!! The multinationals may flourish by leaps and bounds but the conscious people like those assembled here must motivate the CEOs to contribute towards community welfare and particularly to the noble cause of health and education in the countries, where they operate. Last but not the least, the scholars must investigate and unveil the forces, which are unfortunately perverting peoples, using religious beliefs to investigate people to war, brainwashing our youth, who have frequently lost their spiritual essence from which humanity began. What holds the spiritually inclined to religion, whether the one they were born into or one they adopt, is not a desire for dogma, but a deep thirst in many of us to experience the spiritual. I believe that although there are many different religions in the world, spirituality is the same. Terrorism, extremism and intolerance belong to no particular religion and are found often in those who do not subscribe to any religion. I bring to light Carl .G. Jung’s belief that “the wars of the world and our untold inhumane treatment of each other are caused not because we are evil (or terrorists), but rather because we have lost touch with who we really are.” The American NGOs fighting for the rights of prisoners in Guantanamo Bay and Batgaram, the British journalist Yvonne Riddley, royalty Princess Diana, Mother Teresa seem to be inspiring the academicians to infuse love and empathy in the youth of the world. The Lyotardian (1984) agenda of post-modern belief in human liberation and pluralism must be upheld as the driving force to save the world. The intellectuals must assume responsibility and work with people. History gives us the role models in the human forms of Prophet Mohammad (peace be upon him), the intellectuals mentioned in the Bible as prophets, Lord Buddha and 14 Socrates. The world having lost hope in modernism and postmodernism requires the academics to engage the people. We have an advantage, we are the super power!!!! 3. Recommendations The masses should be approached at gross root level through electronic and print media to indoctrinate the truth that “tolerance, justice and equality” are the needs of the hour. Internet is a great resource to unite humanity, caricature of the revered prophets and saints and negative statements about people’s religious values or cultural mores must never be allowed to appear on the internet. Remember that people need movements and organizations to gravitate to. Constructive change needs that support groups be formed by the intellectuals, around the world. 4. References 15 [1] Bakker, C.J Hans, Babeliowsky, Martijn, N.F Stevenaar, Frank J.W. (2004) The Next Leap, Achieving growth through global networks, partnerships and cooperation. Great Britain: T J International, Padstow Cornwall. [2] Barsamian, David (2003). The Common Good -Noam Chomsky interviews. Canada: Odonion Press. [3] Emerson, Ralph Waldo, (p 72). The works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Volume 1 [4] Miller, George David, (p 8), Peace, Value, and Wisdom: The Educational Philosophy of Daisaku Ikeda. [5] Myers, G. David (2002), Social Psychology 7th Ed USA Mc Graw Hill Co. [6] Schiller, Herbert (1976), Communication and Cultural Domination. USA: ME Sharpe Publisher. [7] Shaffer, Lawrence (2002) Encyclopaedic Dictionary of Literary Criticism. India : New Delhi, Sarup and Sons and IVY Publishers. 
work_qfwobab6q5d7xb6lteqw52qac4	----	JASN258Editorial 1609..1619 EDITORIALS www.jasn.org Dialysis: Destination or Journey David N. Churchill* and Sarbjit Vanita Jassal† *Division of Nephrology, Department of Medicine, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada, and †Division of Nephrology, University Health Network, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ontario, Canada J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1609–1611, 2014. doi: 10.1681/ASN.2014040390 The continued poor survival and diminished quality of life for patients treated with dialysis, particularly elderly individ- uals, is an important health care issue. In this issue of JASN, Vandecasteele and Kurella Tamura propose a change from a process-driven approach to dialysis care to one that incorpo- rates a realistic assessment, in collaboration with the patient, of the relationship between the treatment goals and future out- comes.1 They argue against the current culture of applying clin- ical practice guidelines to all patients and challenge the benefits of using biochemical surrogate outcomes. Akin to the revolu- tionary changes in recent guidelines on cholesterol2 and hyper- tension3 management, they propose that the renal community should change the focus from directives given to physicians to decision-making that incorporates individual patient preferen- ces. For patients with CKD who might require dialysis, the in- vasive and lifestyle-changing effect of the therapy makes this drive toward improved shared decision-making imperative. The authors propose that health care providers responsible forthecareofthesepatientsshouldoperationalizetheproposed new model of care using three patient-centric paradigms. The first and most familiar of these paradigms is labeled “dialysis as a bridge to transplantation or long-term mainte- nance.” Patients considered to have a good prognosis and whose goal is transplantation or long-term maintenance dialysis, pref- erably self-care, would be included in this group. Treatment- specific goals include adherence to stringent treatment targets, similar to those currently used, with the anticipation that this will lead to better long-term health and a sustained ability to engage in professional and private life functioning. A second identifiable group of patients includes those with a low probability of recovering independent social func- tioning and those at high risk of imminent death or recurrent hospitalizations. They recommend that these individuals and their families be provided with unbiased information that would allow an informed choice between dialysis therapy and a strategy labeled “active medical management without dialysis.” In practice, this strategy is most applicable to pa- tients with severe dementia and those with poor functional status and high comorbidity. Functional status is an im- portant marker of poor outcomes. Fewer than one third of patients undergoing dialysis and admitted to long-term hos- pital care ever return home.4 Among 3702 nursing home residents in the United States, all of whom had high baseline dependency levels, dialysis initiation was associated with fur- ther significant functional decline and a 1-year mortality rate of 58%.5 Had these elderly individuals been offered a fully in- formed option for maximal conservative therapy, would their outcomes have differed? The data are limited to several single- center observational studies, each with unique flaws. The largest of these, from the United Kingdom,6 compared the survival of 29 patients (median age, 81.6 years) who chose maximal conservative therapy with that seen in 173 patients (median age, 76.4 years) starting RRT. Although the median unadjusted survival duration was only 13.9 months for the maximal conservative therapy group compared with 41.9 months for the RRT group, the former required fewer days, per patient-year survived, in the hospital (16 days compared with 25) and were four times more likely to die at home or in a hospice compared with those starting RRT. Despite these data, it remains unclear what is “best.”7 The cultural shift within medicine toward patient-centered care8 leaves many questions unanswered. We know little of the pa- tients’ experiences, their satisfaction with their lives, or the socioeconomic costs of nondialysis care. Some answers may be provided by an ongoing prospective observational study of dialysis and predialysis patients aged 65 years or older.9 This study will address not only survival but also health-related quality of life, economic burden, and comorbidity. The circumstances under which the elderly initiate long- term dialysis must also be considered. Among 416,657 Medi- care beneficiaries age 67 years or older, long-term dialysis was initiated in an inpatient setting in 64.5%; most patients (96.2%) survived to discharge. The patients were divided into five groups, one with outpatient initiation and four defined according to increasing intensity of inpatient care. The median duration of survival of those initiating dialysis as an outpatient was 2.1 years compared with 0.7 years in the group with the most intensive inpatient care.10 For many of these patients, the discussion that incorporates their preferences will occur after dialysis has been initiated in the setting of AKI. A third paradigm proposed is “dialysis as a final destina- tion.” Although it is the most likely to be controversial, it is consistent with patient-centered care and personalized med- icine. It is also widely applicable to the most vulnerable of our dialysis patients. The authors’ recommendation is that Published online ahead of print. Publication date available at www.jasn.org. Correspondence: Dr. David N. Churchill, 56 Bond Street South, Hamilton, ON L8S 1S7, Canada. Email: dchurchill1@cogeco.ca Copyright © 2014 by the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1609–1619, 2014 ISSN : 1046-6673/2508-1609 1609 U P F R O N T M A T T E R S http://www.jasn.org mailto:dchurchill1@cogeco.ca patients who have high levels of comorbidityor unclear prognosis be managed with the understanding that they are undergoing palliative dialysis. These are patients in whom the effects of the disease and the treatments preclude them from integrating back into their social and/or professional environments and who are not eligible for a curative strategy, such as transplantation. “Di- alysis as a final destination” would likely be most applicable to a heterogeneous group of individuals, including older patients with poor prognosis who have chosen a trial of dialysis and younger patients with multiple comorbid conditions. Itwould also include patients previously managed with “dialysis as a bridge to trans- plantation or long-term maintenance,” who have progressive dis- ease limiting their chances of transplantation and who are unable to resume their previous level of social functioning. Will this allow us to change our thinking? As we have “im- proved care standards,” have we merely been slowly substi- tuting a treatment for a disease? In the same way patients with diabetes are rarely renamed as “insulin patients” when they ini- tiate life-long, life-sustaining insulin therapy, perhaps we need to alter how we practice so patients initiating dialysis no longer become “dialysis patients.” Can we prevent the substitution of the treatment for the disease through modifications of our tar- gets and goals of care? The suggestions for “dialysis as a final destination” made in the authors’ Table 2 are modest and argue against using interventions for which there is little supporting evidence or planned clinical trials. They propose reduced atten- tion to protocols used to manage dysphosphatemia, glycemia control, and vascular access. Instead, they advocate the use of protocols that increase psychological support, home care sup- port, and physical rehabilitation. Whether this would improve qualityoflife by avoidance oftreatment-related complicationsor lead to worse quality of life associated with a reactive rather than a proactive but conservative strategy is unknown. An editorial in JAMA11 addresses the potential effect of the new guidelines for management of cholesterol and hyperten- sion with the focus on personalized medicine. Three recom- mendations in that editorial can equally be applied to the management of CKD and dialysis through uptake of these paradigms. The next steps are less clear. As a community we need to determine whether we believe in personalized medi- cine and, if so, start to evolve in a new direction. The first recommendation is that informed choice requires strongevidencethatcanbepersonalizedforpatientsneedingto makeadecision.Theprospectiveobservationalstudyproposed by Walker and colleagues9 should provide much-needed data, particularly for those who might consider “active medical management without dialysis.” Many of the clinical trials that apply to the patients in the “dialysis as a final destination” group have involved single interventions that have failed to affect survival or composite cardiovascular outcomes. This group should be the subject of additional well designed and executed trials, which would include multiple interventions. The second recommendation is to further evolve tools to help individualize care for patients while simultaneously avoiding inferior medical care. Current tools for shared decision making are being used in other areas of medicine and have been adapted for use in the renal population.12,13 Butthethirdandperhapsmostimportantrecommendation is that we strengthen the patient’s voice. The James Lind Alli- ance14 in the United Kingdom is foremost in leading patient- centric research initiatives. They facilitate partnerships across multiple health areas, particularly between patient and clinician, and help prioritizefutureresearch directions.InCanada,priority- setting work has started within the renal research community.15 The top priorities include improving communication between health care providers and thepatientand howdifferentmodalities of dialysis affect the quality of life of patients and caregivers. However, it remains the ongoing responsibility of health care providers to proactively engage their patients in discussions that encourage and respect the individual patient’s preferences in de- cisions regarding their health care. Aquotation oftenattributed to Ralph WaldoEmerson—“Life is a journey, not a destination”—could be applied to dialysis as it is a journey and requires constant re-evaluation over time as circumstances change. Vandecasteele and Kurella Tamura1 are to be commended in presenting their thoughts on this subject and for framing it as a proposal that invites thoughtful discussion. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The authors wish to thank Dr. Noel Wright for a thoughtful review and commentary on the editorial. DISCLOSURES D.N.C. has a consultancy agreement with Amgen Canada Inc. S.V.J. has been a speaker for Amgen Canada Inc. and has received funding from Johnson & Johnson to support a fellowship in Geriatric Nephrology. REFERENCES 1. Vandecasteele SJ, Kurella Tamura M: A patient-centered vision of care for ESRD: Dialysis as bridging treatment or as final destination? J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1647–1651, 2014 2. Stone NJ, Robinson J, Lichtenstein AH, Bairey Merz CN, Lloyd-Jones DM, Blum CB, McBride P, Eckel RH, Schwartz JS, Goldberg AC, Shero ST, Gordon D, Smith SC Jr, Levy D, Watson K, Wilson PWF: 2013 ACC/ AHA Guideline on the Treatment of Blood Cholesterol to Reduce Atherosclerotic Cardiovascular Risk in Adults: A report of the American College of Cardiology/American Heart Association Task Force on Practice Guidelines [Published online ahead of print November 7, 2013]. J Am Coll Cardiol doi: 10.1016/j.jacc.2013.11.002 3. James PA, Oparil S, Carter BL, Cushman WC, Dennison-Himmelfarb C, Handler J, Lackland DT, LeFevre ML, MacKenzie TD, Ogedegbe O, Smith SC Jr, Svetkey LP, Taler SJ, Townsend RR, Wright JT Jr, Narva AS, Ortiz E: 2014 evidence-based guideline for the management of high blood pressure in adults: Report from the panel members appointed to the Eighth Joint National Committee (JNC 8). JAMA 311: 507–520, 2014 4. Thakar CV, Quate-Operacz M, Leonard AC, Eckman MH: Outcomes of hemodialysis patients in a long-term care hospital setting: A single- center study. Am J Kidney Dis 55: 300–306, 2010 1610 Journal of the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1609–1619, 2014 EDITORIALS www.jasn.org 5. Kurella Tamura M, Covinsky KE, Chertow GM, Yaffe K, Landefeld CS, McCulloch CE: Functional status of elderly adults before and after ini- tiation of dialysis. N Engl J Med 361: 1539–1547, 2009 6. Carson RC, Juszczak M, Davenport A, Burns A: Is maximum conserva- tive management an equivalent treatment option to dialysis for elderly patients with significant comorbid disease? Clin J Am Soc Nephrol 4: 1611–1619, 2009 7. Lloyd K, White J: Democratizing clinical research. Nature 474: 277–278, 2011 8. Bardes CL: Defining “patient-centered medicine.” N Engl J Med 366: 782–783, 2012 9. Walker R, Derrett S, Campbell J, Marshall MR, Henderson A, Schollum J, Williams S, McNoe B: Dialysis outcomes in those aged .5 65 years. BMC Nephrol 14: 175, 2013 10. Wong SPY, Kreuter W, O’Hare AM: Healthcare intensity at initiation of chronic dialysis among older adults. J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 143–149, 2014 11. Krumholz HM: The new cholesterol and blood pressure guidelines: Perspective on the path forward. JAMA 311: 1403–1405, 2014 12. Renal Physicians Association: Shared Decision-Making in the Appro- priate Initiation of and Withdrawal from Dialysis, 2nd Ed., Rockville, MD, Renal Physicians Association, 2010 13. Davison SN, Torgunrud C: The creation of an advance care planning process for patients with ESRD. Am J Kidney Dis 49: 27–36, 2007 14. The James Lind Alliance: http://www.lindalliance.org/. Accessed April 19, 2014 15. CANN-NET: Research priorities - survey. http://www.cann-net.ca/patient- information/dialysis-research-priorities-survey/. Accessed April 19, 2014 See related article, “A Patient-Centered Vision of Care for ESRD: Dialysis as a Bridging Treatment or as a Final Destination?,” on pages 1647–1651. Soluble Urokinase-Type Plasminogen Activator Receptor in FSGS: Stirred but Not Shaken Jochen Reiser* and Harold Chapman† *Department of Medicine, Rush University Medical Center, Chicago, Illinois; and †Department of Medicine, University of California, San Francisco, California J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1611–1613, 2014. doi: 10.1681/ASN.2014030257 The soluble urokinase-type plasminogen activator receptor (suPAR) has been proposed as a candidate circulating factor causing FSGS.1 In this issue of JASN, Cathelin et al. further examine the short-term effects of two different types of suPAR on the kidney filtration barrier.2 Although the authors show deposition of suPAR in the glomerular capillary wall of their experimental models, they do not find changes in albumin permeability. The activation of the suPAR target on podocytes, avb3 integrin, is not examined, leaving the question of target engagement unanswered. Nevertheless, this study provides some additional insights into the complexity of suPAR- derived signals in kidney disease and offers a potential explana- tion as to why patients with elevated acute phase–associated suPAR may not readily develop nephrotic syndrome. The debate regarding the existence of a serum factor that causes FSGS is certainly glorified, heated, and polarizing. Since Shalhoub first suggested the existence of such a factor in 1974,3 the quest to find such molecules is ongoing and is in line with the ever-growing need for definitive treatments that eradicate pretransplant and post-transplant FSGS. Savin et al. are credited for demonstrating that serum and plasma from patients with FSGS induce kidney filter permeability changes.4 Savin et al. also proposed that the FSGS factor is a protein with a molecular mass between 20 and 50 kD.4 Studies in our laboratory showed that suPAR is a permeability factor in native and recurrent FSGS.1 suPAR is a multidomain protein that is heavily glycosy- lated and precisely fits the suggested size range expected for the putative circulating factor. The proposed pathogenic role of suPAR is based on three observations: (1) variants of suPAR produced proteinuria in several mouse models, (2) total levels of glycosylated suPAR were elevated in the majority of patients with FSGS, and (3) suPAR can bind to and activate podocyte b3 integrins allowing for activation of Rac-1 and podocyte motility (a surrogate for podocyte foot process effacement). Several follow-up studies confirmed increased total suPAR serum levels in FSGS, which were validated in patients with normal or mildly reduced renal function compared with other glomerular diseases5 but not necessarily in advanced renal failure in which suPAR accumulation may occur.6 Further- more, it should be noted that in certain recent studies, serum suPAR did not differentiate FSGS from other glomerulopathies in the setting of relatively preserved renal function.7 However, healthy control patients in this study also had elevated suPAR levels at baseline, which is atypical and might be a confounder of the cohort. Nevertheless, these discrepancies around single- value suPAR testing in different cohorts with the current ELISA imposes an obstacle for bulk suPAR measurements in clinical practice.6 Development of a more specific FSGS-suPAR ELISA and/or cell-based testing systems that can detect different forms of suPAR with strong podocyte integrin activation capacities is needed.8 suPAR is the cleaved product of the cell-bound urokinase- typeplasminogenactivatorreceptor(uPAR),amultifunctional receptor that binds both the protease urokinase and the adhesion protein vitronectin.9 uPAR also functionally and physically interacts with integrins both directly and indirectly through signaling, with the latter in some circumstances due to uPAR vitronectin binding.10 suPAR is normally heavily gly- cosylated and can be cleaved into various shorter molecules that determine variability in suPAR’s cell signaling function and stability in body fluids, including serum. Cathelin et al. Published online ahead of print. Publication date available at www.jasn.org. Correspondence: Dr. Jochen Reiser, Department of Medicine, Rush University Medical Center, 1735 W Harrison Street, Cohn Building, Suite 724, Chicago, IL 60612. Email: jochen_reiser@rush.edu Copyright © 2014 by the American Society of Nephrology J Am Soc Nephrol 25: 1609–1619, 2014 Editorials 1611 www.jasn.org EDITORIALS http://www.lindalliance.org/ http://www.cann-net.ca/patient-information/dialysis-research-priorities-survey/ http://www.cann-net.ca/patient-information/dialysis-research-priorities-survey/ http://www.jasn.org mailto:jochen_reiser@rush.edu 
work_qh3zrxopxbhu3nvm25yb3j24vu	----	UC Santa Barbara Journal of Transnational American Studies Title The Transnational Viking: The Role of the Viking in Sweden, the United States, and Swedish America Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/3kq8c3g3 Journal Journal of Transnational American Studies, 7(1) Author Blanck, Dag Publication Date 2016 License https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ 4.0 Peer reviewed eScholarship.org Powered by the California Digital Library University of California https://escholarship.org/uc/item/3kq8c3g3 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0//4.0 https://escholarship.org http://www.cdlib.org/ SPECIAL FORUM The Transnational Viking: The Role of the Viking in Sweden, the United States, and Swedish America DAG BLANCK In 1893 a Viking ship arrived in the Chicago harbor. The Viking was a replica of the so- called Gokstad Viking ship that had been found in Norway in 1880. Commanded by the Norwegian captain Magnus Andersen, it had set out from Bergen, sailing across the Atlantic to New York, then making its way to Chicago via the Hudson River, the Eire Canal and the Great Lakes. It arrived at the fairgrounds of the 1893 World´s Columbian Exposition on 12 July 1893. Vikings have a long history as powerful symbols and have been charged with varying meanings. The Viking ship in Chicago in 1893 was part of a North American struggle for origins, making the case for a Viking presence in the New World, which five years later received new nourishment through the discovery of the so-called Kensington runestone in south central Minnesota and the proposition that Vikings had made camp and struggled with natives in Douglas County in 1362. During the twentieth and twenty-first centuries Vikings have appeared in sports, films, and online games in commercial and even political contexts. An example of the latter comes from the opening of the exhibition “Vikings: The North Atlantic Saga” at the National Museum of Natural History at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, DC in April 2000 when Hillary Rodham Clinton framed the Vikings in a contemporary perspective. She highlighted the importance of the Viking “spirit of discovery,” which she said was typical of the United States, and spoke of Viking women as “active participants in the political and religious issues in their communities.” She also linked the Vikings to the growing electronic communication web at the time, pointing to how the Vikings, through their many journeys, became “conveyors of information from one part of the known world to another,” and characterizing the “Viking longship” as “the internet of the year 1000.”1 This article will address the ways in which the Viking journeys and supposed settlements in North America around the year 1000 have circulated back and forth across the Atlantic and the different ways in which they have been used. It will focus on the nineteenth century and three geographic spaces—Sweden, the US, and Swedish America. As we shall see, in Sweden the Viking became an important part of Swedish nation-building during that period. In the United States, mainstream Americans incorporated Vikings into emerging Anglo-Saxon racial identities, while the Swedish-American immigrant community used them as a way of positioning itself in the American ethno-racial hierarchy. The article examines national and ethnic identity formations, illustrating the role of putative historical traditions in these processes, in which narratives of origin resonated in both Sweden and the US. It also highlights a trans-Atlantic and transnational exchange of ideas and notions of history. The same phenomena were used as ingredients in identity formation processes in different historical and social contexts, and were charged with different meanings. These circulations underscore the malleability of evocative symbols and their capacity to assume new significance, while at the same time establishing an important contemporaneity as they moved back and forth across the Atlantic. The Viking in Sweden The Viking occupied a prominent position in the constructions and reconstructions of a Swedish past during the nineteenth century. The year 1809 is a turning point in Swedish history. In September, Sweden and Russia signed a peace treaty in the Finnish town Hamina that had far-reaching effects. What is today Finland became a grand duchy within the Russian empire, and remained so until the Russian Revolution. As a consequence Sweden lost the eastern part of the realm, an integral part of the country at least since the fourteenth century, representing a third of its territory and a fourth of its population. The Swedish Baltic empire was diminished both geographically and culturally, becoming what the Finnish historian Matti Klinge has called a reduced “Bernadotteian small Sweden.”2 The reactions in Sweden were many, including a coup d´etat against the king and the election of a new crown prince, the French marshal Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, who ascended to the throne in 1818. The sense of a great national loss also resulted in new ways of thinking about the Swedish past and about what constituted the Swedish nation. The Vikings and the Viking Age—roughly 800 to 1100 AD—played a prominent role during this period of reorientation and searching for new identities. The Vikings became bearers of certain characteristics and values that were held to be specifically Swedish, explaining the place of the country in the past but also staking out a future course.3 This is not to say that the Vikings and what became known as the Viking Age were unknown in Sweden prior to 1809. During the seventeenth century, when Sweden occupied a central position in European politics as a regional great power, the Uppsala professor Olof Rudbeck, who in many ways created a historical context for Swedish hegemony, made use of the Icelandic sagas and the Vikings in establishing a glorious Swedish past. During the eighteenth century, new historical research also examined the Vikings in the light of the needs of the post-great power Swedish nation, placing them in a more utilitarian context.4 In the nineteenth century, the loss of Finland and the growth of the national Romantic movement, rooted in Johan Gottfried Herder’s philosophy emphasizing the significance of separate nations and peoples, provided yet another interpretation of the Vikings’ role in Swedish history. Their culture and literature, preserved in the Icelandic sagas, became a specific Swedish (and Scandinavian) contribution to the larger Germanic nation-building processes and a central component in the construction of narratives of Swedish origins. Sweden, too, would assume its place as a discrete nation and Volk with a set of distinct ethno-cultural and linguistic characteristics. One starting point came in 1811 with the establishment of Götiska förbundet (the Gothic League) in Stockholm by a group of leading Swedish intellectuals and authors who shared a sense of national urgency and were associated with the growing movement of Romanticism. The members focused on Sweden’s and Scandinavia’s Viking past, seeking to revive its culture and spirit. Jakob Adlerbeth, an Uppsala- educated civil servant, and his Uppsala contemporary, the poet and historian Erik Gustaf Geijer, were central figures in the creation of Götiska förbundet. Its journal Iduna (named for the Norse goddess of youth) became an important publication outlet for many of the members. In the first issue, Geijer published three influential poems: “Manhem” (an Old Norse term for Sweden), “Odalbonden” (The Yeoman Farmer) and “Vikingen” (The Viking), placing the Viking past and Old Norse culture front and center in his post-1809 re-conception of Swedish history.5 The freedom, independence and self-governance of the Swedish peasantry are central themes in Geijer’s thinking and in the three poems.6 The famous first stanza of “Manhem” speaks of “a time in the North” when “no one was a slave or master [and] every yeoman farmer was a man unto himself.”7 In this distant past, life was harsh, but the inhabitants had defended their land, their personal freedom and ancient liberties. “Vikingen” envisions the peasant as a restless explorer whose home is too small, making him venture out into the world on potentially violent voyages of conquest. The combination of the freedom-seeking warrior Viking and the peaceful, free-born, hard- working Swedish peasant illustrates Geijer’s view of the Swedish past and its role both for Sweden and Europe in the nineteenth century. These sentiments are also echoed in his well-known public lectures on Scandinavian history from 1815, where he emphasizes freedom as a special characteristic of the Scandinavian medieval past, in stark contrast to the feudalism of the European continent. It was the “nature of these peoples” that later would spread throughout Europe and shape European social and political structures.8 Fourteen years later, in 1825, the bishop of Växjö, Esaias Tegnér, brought out his Frithiofs saga. Tegnér’s epic poem was based on a mediaeval Icelandic heroic legend about Frithiof, the son of the peasant Hilding and Ingeborg, the daughter of King Bele. Frithiofs saga was enormously successful. It was widely translated in Europe and North America and quickly entered into the Swedish literary canon. The book’s success has been attributed to its use of the medieval Viking past and to the fact that it continued and developed the Viking themes established by Gejer and his contemporaries in Götiska förbundet. The poem became a Swedish national epic by drawing, for the first time, on the distant Swedish past rather than themes from classical antiquity. It helped define a sense of what it meant to be Swedish.9 These and other works by Geijer and Tegnér remained central texts in the Swedish literary tradition well into the twentieth century.10 Although the Viking was established as an important cultural figure and ingredient in a Swedish identity in the early nineteenth century, it was not until the 1870s that the term ‘the Viking Age’ was “invented” as a historical period, as Maja Hagerman puts it.11 Fredrik Svanberg has shown how a specific Scandinavian Viking Age was identified within what previously had been called the Iron Age.12 Although a question of some debate, historians tend to date the beginning of this period of about four centuries to the attack on the monastery at Lindisfarne off the British coast in the year 793, and to suggest that it was over by the beginning of the twelfth century. It was not, however, until the late nineteenth century, well after the Romantic movement and Götiska förbundet in the beginning of the century, that the term began to be used to designate a more or less fixed period in Swedish history. The earliest use seems to be by the archeologist Oscar Montelius, who in an article from 1872 speaks of “the Viking Age” as a “heroic time” when the “sons of the North” found their homes too constricting and “roamed across the seas” to seek “honor and gold,” to “establish new realms in far-away countries” and “through their blood to rejuvenate the peoples of Western and Southern Europe.”13 By the end of the century this perception had become widely accepted and entered into the important primary school textbooks that disseminated a sense of Swedish history and culture among a broad spectrum of the population.14 The Vikings were not only used in a domestic context. Gerd Weber has pointed to how the Scandinavian Viking Age was placed in strong contrast to the Catholic Middle Ages. According to Weber, the introduction of foreign cultural and religious elements from the European continent challenged and undermined the prevailing Scandinavian Norse culture. The previous system of self-governance and elected kings was replaced by feudal aristocratic rule, with an unfree peasantry, where “foreign” continental influences replaced the original Scandinavian languages and cultures and “popery” took over from the natural indigenous cult of Baldur.15 In that way the construction of a new Swedish national identity was firmly anchored in a Germanic, northern European and Protestant cultural and religious context. In nineteenth-century Sweden, the Viking and the Viking Age thus became more than an area of historical and archeological inquiry. During the period of national Romanticism they assumed a literary and conceptual life that helped shape a new sense of Swedish history and national identity associated with certain ideological traits, of which freedom and self-governance were central and seen as particularly typical of Sweden and Scandinavia. As will be apparent in the next sections, these ideas resonated across the Atlantic, both among an academic and cultural elite in New England and Swedish immigrants across the United States. The Viking in the US Beginning in the 1830s, an interest in the Vikings and in Old Norse and Scandinavian culture developed in the US, particularly in New England. In the following, I will focus specifically on US attention to Sweden. It is important, however, to underscore that many Americans made no strict distinctions between Sweden, Norway, and Denmark, and that the Vikings were often seen as “Scandinavians”; the terms ‘Norse’ and ‘the North’ were often used as well. The Danish linguist Carl Christian Rafn played a key role in preparing the way for an American interest in the Vikings. In 1837 he published Antiquitates Americanae, in which for the first time a North American audience could partake of the Norse sagas and their accounts of Norse explorations and settlements in what was called Vinland in the New World. The book included texts in Icelandic, Latin, and modern Danish, and had a significant impact in America in general and in New England in particular. It was published by the Danish Royal Society of Northern Antiquities (Det Kongelige Nordiske Oldskrifs-Selskab) in Copenhagen, which cooperated with certain groups in New England, especially the historical societies of Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Rafn was elected a corresponding member of the Massachusetts Historical Society, and the Danes actively recruited American members for the Danish society. A separate American section was established including such members of the New England academic and cultural elite as George Marsh, Charles Lowell, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Benjamin Silliman, and Noah Webster. Rafn’s book was widely and prominently reviewed in The North American Review, The New York Review, The United States Magazine and Democratic Review and The Western Messenger.16 In The North American Review, Edward Everett noted that the book was of “great importance” and that it had been anticipated with great excitement.17 The reviewer claimed that no event in history was more important than the “discovery” of America, and although the significance of Columbus remained central, Rafn’s book clearly demonstrated a Norse presence in the New World, providing “an unconscious preparation for the discovery of America by Columbus.” Everett concludes that this is “one of the most valuable contributions ever made to the study of the history and geography of our continent.”18 The abolitionist The Western Messenger called the book “the most important contribution that has ever been made to the geographical history of this country,” thanking the Danes for their efforts to help “penetrate” the darkness of early American history; and the abolitionist, minister, and author Thomas Higginson recalled the excitement its publication caused among his professors while an undergraduate at Harvard College.19 Another important advocate of the Vikings was Marie A. Brown (later Shipley). An author, amateur historian, and translator of contemporary Swedish fiction, she devoted much of her life to the mission of gaining recognition of the Norse presence on the North American continent. As the 1892–93 World Columbian Exposition in Chicago was being planned, focusing on Columbus as the first European to reach the New World, Brown went to battle for the Norse and for Leif Ericson. Operating within a tradition of American anti-Catholicism, she sought to replace Columbus’s position in the history of the Western hemisphere with that of the Norsemen in her 1887 book The Icelandic Discoverers of America; or Honour to Whom Honour is Due. It was an “immediate necessity” to establish the truth about the Norsemen that had been “hidden for a century,”20 and she encouraged her readers to “substitute” the Norsemen for Christopher Columbus and to replace San Salvador and San Domingo, the supposed Columbian landing sites in the Caribbean, with Greenland, Labrador, Nova Scotia, Rhode Island, and Massachusetts.21 Brown pointed to the approaching 400th anniversary of Columbus’s “fraudulent discovery” as a Catholic attempt to usurp the Anglo-Saxon foundations of American society, warning of the risks that the manifestations would lead to the US giving up its independence and yielding allegiance to “the foulest tyrant the world has ever had, the Roman Catholic power!”22 She also started a journal, Leif Erikson, appearing in a few issues from 1889, which sought “the universal recognition of the fact that Leif Eriksson discovered America,” and “the unmasking of Columbus, the chosen tool of the Roman Catholic Church . . . for the purpose of affording that Church new territory for the seat of its future temporal power.”23 Other examples of native-born American interest in the Vikings include James Russell Lowell, the Romantic poet, Harvard professor and first editor of the Atlantic Monthly, who in 1844 made a link between the Norsemen and the Puritans in New England. “The same niggardly soil, inhospitable climate, and energy of character which drove forth the old Norseman to seek happier seats, the same courage and constancy—have not these made the Yankee accent a familiar sound over the whole globe?” he asked in a review of four recent novels by the Swedish author Fredrika Bremer.24 By the 1870s the debate about Norse journeys to and influences in North America was established enough to cause a reviewer in The North American Review to talk about a “dispute” that had been “long and sharp” and where views varying from “perfect faith to utter incredulity” had been put forward.25 Establishing a link between Scandinavia and Old and New England was fairly common. George Perkins Marsh, a New England writer, philologist and diplomat, pointed to the Germanic/Norse or Gothic element in the Anglo-Saxon background that the US had inherited from England as fundamental for the definition of the United States. He argued that whatever “true moral grandeur” New and Old England had could be traced to “the Gothic mother,” and that “[i]t was the spirit of the Goth, that guided the May-Flower across the trackless ocean; the blood of the Goth, that flowed at Bunker´s Hill.”26 Ralph Waldo Emerson´s English Traits, published in 1856, presented “a myth of origin” for the US in which the Norse of the Viking era “play a central and decisive role in the formation of the English spirit.”27 The Scandinavians are portrayed in a highly positive manner, as sturdy farmers and strong individuals living under harsh conditions, and are contrasted to the “corruption” of southern Europe. “[T]he Heimskringla,” Emerson writes, is “the Iliad and Odyssey of English history.”28 In this way, as Annette Kolodny has observed, through the Puritans, American exceptionalism, was located “in a Germanic (or Northern) racial ancestry.”29 The inclusion of the Vikings in an Anglo-Saxon New England tradition also meant that the exact location of Vinland became important. New England antiquarians were eager to embrace the theory that the Norsemen had landed in the vicinity of Massachusetts Bay and the Narragansett region of Rhode Island, and their claims were publicized by the Massachusetts Historical Society. Whether the exact site was Massachusetts, the Maine coast or areas further to the north in Canada was an ongoing subject of contention. The evidence for a New England landing included the Newport Tower, the Dighton Rock inscription, and a skeleton found at Fall River. The Newport Tower is today the best known of these sites, supposedly the first Christian church in North America, dating from the medieval period. It still stands in Newport, RI, and a number of more or less fanciful claims about its origins exist.30 Dighton Rock is a 40-ton boulder, originally located in the riverbed of the Taunton River in Massachusetts, with petroglyphs and scratches said to be runes. Similar claims were made for the skeleton found at Falls River in 1831.31 The leading apologist for the Norse landings in Massachusetts was Eben Norton Horsford, a chemist and Rumsford Professor of science at Harvard. He claimed that Leif Eriksson’s house could be located on the northeast bend of the Charles River at Gerry’s Landing, by the present-day Eliot Bridge, just west of Harvard Square. His knowledge of archaeology and linguistics was sketchy, and in the 1870s and 1880s he focused his energies on erecting a statue of Leif Eriksson. It was unveiled on Commonwealth Avenue in Boston in 1887. A Scandinavian Memorial Association had been formed with support from leading New Englanders and prominent members of Boston society such as Longfellow and Lowell.32 The statue was clearly a Scandinavian enterprise as well. Originally intended to be erected on the campus of the University of Wisconsin in Madison, it had been co-championed by the famed Norwegian violinist Ole Bull and the University of Wisconsin professor of Scandinavian languages Rasmus B. Anderson as early as 1873. Bull had given a series of concerts in Norway that year to http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boulder http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taunton_River raise funds for the statute, but due to lack of interest in the Midwest—and to the disappointment of Rasmus Anderson—he transferred the idea and the funds to the Massachusetts group in 1876.33 According to the Boston Art Commission, “This life-size bronze statue memorializes Lief [sic] Eriksson, the Norse explorer believed to be the first European to set foot on North America.” It depicts the Viking standing atop a rock, shielding his eyes “as if surveying unfamiliar terrain.” Its placement in Boston is attributed to the fact that when it was erected, “some people believed that Eriksson and his crew landed on the shore of Massachusetts and founded their settlement, called Vinland, here.”34 As Janet Headly has observed, the statue can be seen as an “anomaly” in nineteenth-century Boston and conveyed a “highly political message about the kind of history, values, and religious and ethnic traditions . . . Bostonians should celebrate,” suggesting Leif Eriksson and the Vikings as an “alternative” to the pilgrim-centered narratives of New England.35 The claims for Norse inscriptions and artifacts in New England were sometimes met with skepticism and even ridicule. Horsford’s enthusiasm did carry him far, and Kolodny suggests that it was Henry Cabot Lodge36 who in a review from 1875 in The North American Review called for more realism. “Let us admire the Norsemen for what they really were,” he wrote, continuing that no useful purpose was served by “depicting the immigrants to Iceland and Greenland as American citizens and members of the Young Men´s Christian Association, with the dress and manners of the tenth century.”37 Henry Schoolcraft, the prominent ethnologist, geographer, and federal Indian agent in Michigan, had examined both Dighton Rock and the Newport Tower and concluded that Dighton Rock was a “well-characterized pictographic inscription due to the Indians” and the Newport Tower “an economic structure, built, probably, after the landing of the Pilgrims, or in the reign of Charles II.”38 When he was informed that he had been elected member of the Royal Society of Northern Antiquities in Copenhagen, he commented that the Society “undervalues American sagacity” by suggesting that this kind of research on the Dighton Rock and the “Newport Ruin” could “satisfy the purposes of a sound investigation of the Anti-[sic] Columbian period of American history.”39 The Vikings made their way into the United States in the middle of the nineteenth century. Their arrival was tied to a search for American origins rooted in an Anglo-Saxon linguistic and cultural past. Nell Irvin Painter has argued that by then the “Anglo-Saxon myth of racial superiority . . . permeated concepts of race in the United States,” and Matthew Frye Jacobson observes that “Anglo-Saxon supremacism” replaced “white supremacism” at the same time.40 Reginald Horsman has given a detailed analysis of how an Anglo-Saxon political ideology had developed in the United States by the mid-nineteenth century and became linked to the dominant racial hierarchy. He emphasizes the dual roots of this ideology and of the Anglo-Saxons themselves in the northwestern part of continental Europe, including of course the southern parts of Scandinavia, and in England.41 The wars against Mexico and the indigenous population combined with the westward expansion meant that Anglo- Saxonism became incorporated in a set of racial characteristics that were considered “American,” against which other groups were measured and defined, including Indians, African Americans, and Mexicans, but also the growing number of European immigrants of more diverse origins. At the same time, a discussion of the nature of Anglo-Saxonism and of what peoples could be considered Anglo-Saxons—both in Europe and in America—meant that the definition was often confused, but as time passed it was to become more exclusive and restrictive. Irish and German Catholic immigrants in the 1840s were viewed with concern; the war with Mexico strengthened the racial and white element of the concept.42 Anglo-Saxonism provided a racial underpinning for Manifest Destiny, further emphasizing the superiority of the group. As Barbara Miller Solomon has shown, the image of both German and Scandinavian immigrants in New England underwent a significant change during the second half of the nineteenth century. Foreign-born immigrants from many countries—including Germany and Scandinavia—had been viewed with suspicion, even as a threat to American society, and their capacity for assimilation into the American mainstream was seen as limited.43 By the turn of the twentieth century, however, a much more positive view of German and Scandinavian immigrants emerged. Sociologist and eugenicist Edward A. Ross, for example, maintained that Germans were similar to native-born Americans in crime rates, and that the Scandinavians, although melancholic, plodding, and taciturn, still had the “right psychology for self-government” and provided “an excellent, cool-blooded, self- controlled citizenship for the support of representative government.”44 Scandinavia came to occupy a special place in mid-nineteenth century American constructions of Anglo-Saxonism. A New England cultural and political elite embraced the Swedes and the Scandinavians, making them a part of the search for American origins, which placed Swedes, both in Europe and in the United Sates, in a privileged position. It was the Viking and Old Norse culture that provided a link between Sweden and the New England elites, and that opened the doors for the favored place that the Swedes and other Scandinavians were assigned in the story of American beginnings. The Viking in Swedish America Interest in the Vikings among the New England elites benefitted the growing Swedish- American community in the late nineteenth century. To this group, the Viking journeys to settlements in what they called Vinland on the North American continent in the eleventh century provided an excellent opportunity to create their own narrative of American origins. The group’s cultural leadership did its best to promote and prove that the Vikings had indeed been the first Europeans in America, thus giving the Swedes (as well as other Scandinavians) a special birthright in America. This was an attempt not only to bring Swedish immigrants up to the same level as the New England colonists, whom they perceived as a core group of the American republic, but to actually go beyond colonial history and claim the right of discovery for the Scandinavians.45 Swedish Americans were able to support some of their claims by directly or indirectly relying on the Anglo-American advocates of the Vikings and their North American journeys who from the mid-nineteenth century had opened a path of cultural and ethnic convergence between Scandinavians and New England Anglo-Saxons. By taking this path, Swedish and Scandinavian immigrants in the US found themselves in an ideologically privileged position as they interacted with their new homeland. One of the most influential Swedish-American ethnic leaders, who contributed in no small way to the creation of a Swedish-American history and who sought to place the group in a privileged position, was the journalist, author, and historian Johan Alfred Enander. While attending secondary school in Sweden he had encountered the developing national literary culture in which both Geijer and Tegnér were important,46 and he was familiar with the growing interest in the Viking Age in his ancestral homeland. In the 1860s, he became editor of the Chicago-based Hemlandet (The Homeland) one of the most influential Swedish-language newspapers in the United States.47 His conception of a Swedish-American history is already apparent in his first significant historical work. Spurred by the American centennial in 1876, Enander published a series of articles in Hemlandet that presented American history to the newspaper’s Swedish-American readership.48 The articles were also printed as a book called Förenta Staternas historia utarbetad för den svenska befolkningen i Amerika (The History of the United States Written for the Swedish Population in America), brought out by Enander's own publishing house between 1874 and 1877.49 His main intention in writing the book was, he declares in the preface, to ensure that the memory of “our heroic distant past never would fade among those Scandinavian descendants who inhabit American soil.”50 A fifth of the book deals with the Viking journeys to North America as well as background information on Scandinavia at that time. In this section Enander claims that the “Norsemen” not only discovered America, but also founded colonies there “with which Greenland and Iceland maintained contacts until 1347.”51 Enander realized that his strong emphasis on the “life and culture of the Norsemen” was open to criticism, but defended his decision by saying that his intended audience, “a Swedish-American public,” ought to be aware of the “child of Norse culture” that “had been planted on American soil more than five centuries before Columbus landed there.” The Viking journeys to North America played a central role in Enander´s thinking. The 1892 Columbian Exposition in Chicago commemorating the 400th anniversary of Columbus’s landing in the western hemisphere elicited a “challenge to Columbus” in which both Norwegian and Swedish immigrants were assigned and took on major roles.52 As already noted, the Norwegians sailed a replica of a Viking ship to Chicago, which attracted a great deal of attention.53 This provided Enander with an opportunity to reiterate his claim for the Viking discovery of and presence in America. In 1893 he presented his case in Nordmännen i Amerika eller Amerikas upptäckt (The Norsemen in America or The Discovery of America).54 It was positioned as a Swedish- American answer to the manifestation of Columbus’s landing in the western hemisphere and as a way of placing Swedes (and Scandinavians) in a superior position vis-à-vis the growing number of Italian immigrants. The book gives a detailed description of the arrival of the Vikings and their subsequent settlements. In the conclusion, Enander laments the fact that his views had not been accepted and attributes this to the strong influence of Italians in the US. According to Enander, the Pope himself had declared “that the saint-like Columbus, inspired by the Holy Ghost and protected by the Virgin Mary,” was the first European to reach America, meaning that it is “considered High Treason” to voice dissenting opinions. However, the Swedish American argued, the “historic truth” lives on, and long after the speeches to Columbus have been forgotten, the fact will remain “that the Norsemen discovered America and founded lasting colonies there 500 years before Columbus saw the light of day.”55 The book was reviewed favorably in the leading Swedish-American Lutheran journal Augustana, which called it “thorough” and “correct,” recommending it for a general readership.56 Clearly, Enander was not only making the case for the early Viking presence, but also placing the issue in a contemporary context. Enander’s attacks on Italian Americans should be seen as one way in which Swedish Americans were trying to establish superiority over another immigrant group with which they competed for economic and political influence and as an ingredient in the positioning of Swedish Americans in the American ethno-racial hierarchies.57 Along similar lines, the Augustana Synod, the dominant Swedish-American Lutheran denomination, which published Enander’s book, harbored anti-Catholic feelings and became a part of “the maelstrom of religious conflict” between Protestants and Catholics in the United States.58 Augustana, the Synod’s official organ, spoke of a Protestant-Catholic cultural struggle in America, where Catholic immigrants from different countries were seeking to lay the country “at the feet of the Pope.” 59 The journal questioned their suitability as Americans, as they constituted a threat to American freedom. The Swedes, in contrast, were good Christians, trustworthy and freedom-loving, and needed to mobilize in the war against Catholicism that was coming in America.60 Enander’s description of the Norse discovery and settlement is based on the Icelandic sagas. He questioned “Anglo-American” scholars who had disputed the Viking presence in America, no doubt a reference to George Bancroft, who in the twenty-first edition of his influential History of the United States concluded that the claims for a Norse colonization rested on “narrative,” were “mythological in form, and obscure in meaning,” and “too vague to sustain.”61 (Bancroft also weighed in on the Dighton Rock inscriptions, which he characterized as “the sublime of humbuggery.”62) In addition to positioning the Vikings as the first European presence in North America, Enander argued that they were bearers of one of the central American tropes—that of freedom—thus constructing a Swedish origin for freedom in the American republic.63 American freedom had first reached Normandy, the argument went, where in 911 the Viking chief Rollo received a fiefdom through a treaty with the King of France. According to Enander, when Rollo asked his men who their king and lord was, the answer given was “the very opening words of the Declaration of Independence of the United States—865 years before their inclusion in the letter of rupture between our adopted country and England,” namely “We have no master or king, we are all equals.” Following 1066 this spirit of freedom was transplanted to England and eventually, through the Puritans, arrived in America, where it “laid the foundations to the empire of which we are citizens today.” A westward emigration began and it now lived “quietly in the low block-houses and the dug-outs of the untamed American forests,” assuring that the American political and legal system bore the imprints of the Nordic heritage. Finally, Enander argued that the roots of Christianity in the New World could be traced back to the Vikings. He maintained that Norse settlements had survived into the twelfth century, and that Christianity came to America in 1121, when a bishop from Iceland, whom Enander refers to as “America's first ordained bishop,” visited the Norse communities there and decided to erect a baptismal building. This building, Enander maintained, could still be found in Newport, Rhode Island.64 In this way the Newport Tower became a part of an Anglo-American and a Swedish-American narrative of the Viking origins of New England. Another example of framing the issue of the Viking landings in North America in contemporary terms comes from the Swedish-American educator J.S. Carlson, also associated with the Augustana Synod, and an active participant in Swedish-American cultural life around the turn of the century. Born in Sweden but educated at Augustana and Gustavus Adolphus Colleges, he became professor of Scandinavian languages at the University of Minnesota in the 1880s. In 1908, a year after leaving his professorship at Minnesota, Carlson published a booklet called Amerikas siste svensk (America’s Last Swede), based on a speech he had delivered on this topic in Minneapolis.65 In the speech Carlson looks into the future, invoking the image of the last Swede in America, whom he defines as the last Swedish American interested in preserving a sense of Swedishness in this country. The last Swede in America reflects on the long and glorious history of his compatriots in the New World and on a history that spans almost a millennium, from the time of the arrival of the Vikings up to the present Swedish immigrants. Like Enander before him, Carlson also uses the Vikings as an opportunity to comment on contemporary matters and to explicitly place Swedish Americans in a racial context. Carlson claims that as the “Nordic dragon ships” landed, “the first white, a Nordic Viking, stepped on the shores of America,” continuing: “Mark this, you smug Briton, you proud son of England, you who have never been first at anything, except pilfering that which others have discovered.” To Carlson, the “birthright” to the discovery of America was not English but “belongs to the North and to no-one else.”66 Carlson goes one step further than Enander in that he also criticizes the English, as he perceived the movement to Americanize immigrants as essentially the same as imposing English customs and values on the immigrant community. To him, the Vikings become not only a part of a myth of foundation or a dimension of inter-ethnic strife with Italian Americans, but also a way of resisting the perceived assimilatory forces from American society at large. The European “discovery” of America has always played an important role in promoting the status of different American immigrant and ethnic groups. Several groups, including the Croatian, Greek, Irish, Norwegian, Polish, and Swedish Americans, have claimed that a representative of their nationality pre-dated Columbus’s landing in the New World. Columbus’s own ethnic origin has also been disputed, and it has, for example, been argued that he was of Jewish origin. Furthermore, until the late nineteenth century Columbus was seen as an American symbol without any particular ethnic connotations, and it was not until the 1890s that the process began through which he became an Italian American.67 To Swedish Americans, the Vikings played a central role in staking out a claim for their ethnic community in the US. First, the journeys to North America that became known in the US through the translations of C.C. Rafn’s Antiquitates Americanae suggested that the Vikings had been the first Europeans to reach that continent. This placed their late nineteenth and early twentieth-century descendants and immigrants from Sweden in a special position in American society. Second, certain fundamental aspects of American society, such as freedom and self-governance, were claimed to be Viking traits that had migrated across the Atlantic from Scandinavia via Normandy and England to the British North American colonies. To Swedish Americans, this indirect Swedish contribution to American political origins solidified their status in American society and made them particularly suitable candidates for membership in the American republic. Conclusion The Viking circulated across the Atlantic, between Sweden, the US, and Swedish America as a part of national and ethnic processes. These processes involved nation- building in Sweden and the US as well as ways in which Swedish immigrants in the US sought to stake a claim in their new homeland. Freedom and independence stand out as two particularly important tropes that the Vikings were said to embody in all three contexts, but playing out in different ways. In nineteenth-century Sweden they provided a focal point for a country much reduced in territory and power that needed to regain pride and self-respect through a new narrative of origin. To mainstream Americans, particularly in New England, the Vikings offered an opportunity to further establish the Anglo-Saxon origins of the United States and, at a time of growing waves of immigration from southern and eastern Europe, to invite Scandinavian immigrants of the nineteenth century into the community of Anglo-Saxons in the US. To Swedish Americans, finally, the Vikings made it possible to claim a long historical presence on the North American continent, predating not only the immigrant groups with whom they were competing in the social and economic hierarchies of late nineteenth-century America, but also such established “colonial” groups such as the English. Moreover, an elaborate argument about the peregrinations of freedom from Scandinavia via Normandy and England to North America made it possible to include the Vikings as ideological founders of the United States. Both the ways in which Swedish and American nationalities were conceived and the logic of the construction of a Swedish-American ethnic community are of consequence for the circulation and use of the Vikings. Swedish nationhood as it developed in the nineteenth century was ethnically and culturally based, and as Fredrik Svanberg has put it, the emergence of a “systematized Viking Age,” mostly among archaeologists and historians, provided the foundation for different “national histories” where that of Sweden and the Swedes was one.68 The United States, on the other hand, was conceived of as a set of ideas embodied in different founding documents, forming a community that individuals could join. Membership was obviously restricted, leading Rogers Smith to observe that the majority of the adult American population has been denied full civil rights during two thirds of the history of the republic.69 Still, as Matthew Jacobson has pointed out, the first naturalization law of 1790 was remarkably inclusive in that the term ‘free white persons’ opened up citizenship and membership in the American republic to many European immigrants in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, “none of whom the framers [of the US] had ever envisioned swelling the polity of the new nation when they crafted its rules for naturalization,” as Jacobson puts it.70 The ethno-cultural nature of Swedish nationhood meant that the Vikings were charged with a foundational significance, pointing to the historical roots of what was seen as Sweden. The loss of Finland, the subsequent sense of cultural and national anxiety, and the influences of an Herderian Völkisch thought contributed to making the Vikings an emblematic part of Swedish nationalism. In the US, however, they became only one, albeit important, dimension of a putative Anglo-Saxon tradition that assumed great significance for American nationhood in the nineteenth century. A historical argument was made linking the Vikings to England as an intellectual and cultural New England elite made the Scandinavians a part of American origins. In this context, ideological gifts of the Vikings (and Anglo-Saxons) to the American republic assumed a central importance. Swedish Americans, finally, combined the ethno- cultural and ideological dimensions as they put the Vikings to use, claiming a cultural ancestry in Scandinavia while at the same time assigning the ideological roots of their adopted homeland to the same place. The trajectories of national and ethnic processes have varied over time and place. As the examples of the circulating Vikings show, they can resonate with each other even though the geographical and historical contexts are quite different. The Vikings proved to be malleable and could be charged with new meanings under new circumstances. Still, they also reveal a fair amount of resilience, as several ascribed characteristics were found in both Sweden and the US as well as in Swedish America. Focusing on the circulation of these ideas and conceptualizations across the Atlantic thus provides a different way of understanding the prevailing national and ethnic narratives in Sweden and the US, suggesting that a transnational approach can both complement and challenge the national paradigms in both countries. Notes 1 Hillary Rodham Clinton, “Preface,” in Vikings: The North Atlantic Saga, ed. William W. Fitzhugh and Elisabet I. Ward (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 2000), 8-9. 2 Matti Klinge, Finlands historia. Kejsartiden (Helsingfors: Schildts, 1996), 68. 3 Margaret Clunies Ross and Lars Lönnroth, “The Norse Muse: Report from an International Research Project,” alvíssmál: Forschungen zur mittelalterlichen Kultur Skandinavien, 9 (1999). 4 Anna Wallette, Sagans svenskar: Synen på vikingatiden och de isländska sagorna under 300 år (Malmö: Sekel bokförlag, 2004), 127–219. 5 Iduna: En skrift för den nordiska fornålderns älskare, Första häftet, 1811. 6 See Anton Blanck, Geijers götiska diktning (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1918), chapters 3 and 4 for the analysis of “Manhem,” “Odalbonden” and “Vikingen.” 7 Geijer, “Manhem,” Iduna, 11. [Det var en tid det bodde uti Norden/ en storsint ätt, beredd för fred som krig./ Då, ingens slav och ingens herre vorden/ var odalbonde var en man för sig.] 8 Blanck, Geijers götiska diktning, 342–46; Lars Lönnroth, “Den populäre vikingen,” in Forskning och framsteg, no. 5 (1999), 54. 9 Lars Lönnroth and Sven Delblanc, eds., Den svenska litteraturen: Upplysning och romantik 1718–1830 (Stockholm: Bonniers, 1988), 295–300. 10 Ola Nordenfors, “‘Frithiofs saga’ – en framgångssaga,” in Svensk litteratur som världslitteratur, ed. Johan Svedjedal (Uppsala: Avdelningen för litteratursociologi, 2012); Lars Brink, Gymnasiets litterära kanon: Urval och värderingar i läromedel 1910-1945 (Uppsala: Avdelningen för litteratursociologi, 1992), 250–52. http://sv.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sekel_bokf%C3%B6rlag https://vufind.carli.illinois.edu/vf-aug/Record/aug_49192 11 Maja Hagerman, Det rena landet: Om konsten att uppfinna sina förfäder (Stockholm: Prisma, 2006), 265. 12 Fredrik Svanberg, Decolonizing the Viking Age 1 (Lund: Acta Archeological Lundensia, 2003), 50. 13 Oscar Montelius, “Lifvet i Sverige under vikingatiden,” Förr och Nu, 1872, quoted in Maja Hagerman, Det rena landet, 276. 14 Wallette, Sagans svenskar, 269–70. 15 Gerd Wolfgang Weber, “Nordisk fortid som chiliastisk framtid: Den 'norrøne arv' og den cykliske historieoppfattelse i Skandinavien og Tyskland omkring 1800 – og senare,” in The Waking of Agantyr: The Scandinavian Past in European Culture, eds. Else Roesdahl and Preben Meulengracht Sørensen (Aarhus: Aarhus University Press, 1996), 94. 16 Geraldine Barnes, Viking America: The First Millennium (Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2001), 49. 17 Edward Everett, “The Discovery of America by Northmen,” The North American Review 46 (January 1838): 161–62. 18 Everett, “The Discovery of America,” 165, 203. 19 Quoted after Oscar. J. Falnes, “New England Interest in Scandinavian Culture and the Norsemen,” New England Quarterly (June 1937): 226; Thomas Wentworth Higginson, “The Visit of the Vikings,” Harper's New Monthly Magazine (September 1882): 515. 20 Marie A. Brown, The Icelandic Discoverers of America; or Honour to Whom Honour is Due (London, 1887), 1. 21 Brown, The Icelandic Discoverers, 9. 22 Ibid., 14. 23 Marie A. Brown, “The Object of this Paper,” Leif Erikson, 1:1, 19 January 1889. 24 James Russell Lowell, “New Translations of the Writings of Miss Bremer,” The North American Review, 58, (April 1844): 481–82. 25 “Review of Gabriel Gravier, Découverte de l’Amerique par les Normands au Xième siecle,” The North American Review 119 (July 1874), 166. 26 George P. Marsh, The Goths in New-England: A Discourse Delivered at the Anniversary of the Philomatesian Society of Middlebury College (Middlebury: J. Cobb, 1843), 14. 27 Erik Ingvar Thurin, The American Discovery of the Norse: An Episode in Nineteenth- Century American Literature (Cranbury: Associated University Presses, 1999), 34. 28 Ralph Waldo Emerson, English Traits, vol. 5 of Complete Works (Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1885), 59–60. Quotation on p. 60. The Heimskringla is a collection of Old Norse king´s sagas. 29 Annette Kolodny, In Search of First Contact: The Vikings of Vinland, the Peoples of the Dawnland, and the Anglo-American Anxiety of Discovery (Durham: Duke University Press, 2012), 137. 30 Suzanne Carlson, “Tilting at Windmills: Newport Tower,” NEARA Journal 30, no. 3–4, (Winter/Spring 1996); The Museum of Unnatural Mystery, accessed 15 January 2016, http://www.unmuseum.org/newporttower.htm. 31 Brgitta Linderoth Wallace and William W. Fitzhugh, “Stumbles and Pitfalls in the Search for Viking America,” in Vikings: The North Atlantic Saga, 374–78. 32 Kolodny, In Search of First Contact, 231–34. 33 Lloyd Hustvedt, Rasmus Bjørn Anderson: Pioneer Scholar (Northfield: Norwegian- American Historical Association, 1966), 130–32. 34 Public Art Boston, accessed 15 January 2016, http://www.publicartboston.com/content/leif-eriksson. 35 Janet Headly, “Anne Whitney's ‘Leif Eriksson’: A Brahmin Response to Christopher Columbus,” American Art 17 (Summer 2003): 41–42. 36 Kolodny, 229. 37 “Review of R.B. Anderson, A Historical Sketch of the Discovery of America in the Tenth Century by the Norsemen,” The North American Review, 120 (January 1875), 195. 38 Henry Schoolcraft, Historical and Statistical Information respecting the History, Conditions and Prospects of the Indian Tribes of the United States (1857), quoted in The North American Review, 119 (July 1874), 175. 39 Henry Schoolcraft, Personal Memoirs of a Residence of Thirty Years with the Indian Tribes on the American Frontiers (Philadelphia: Lipppincott, Gramboo and Co., 1851), 630. 40 Nell Irvin Painter, The History of White People (New York: W. W. Norton, 2010), 164; Matthew Frye Jacobson, “Becoming Caucasian,” in Race and Immigration in the United States: New Histories, ed. Paul Spickard (London: Routledge, 2012), 137. 41 Reignald Horsman, Race and Manifest Destiny: The Origins of American Racial Anglo- Saxonism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1981), 25–42. 42 Horsman, Race and Manifest Destiny, 225–48. 43 Barbara Miller Solomon, Ancestors and Immigrants: A Changing New England Tradition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1956), 80–81. http://www.unmuseum.org/newporttower.htm http://www.publicartboston.com/content/leif-eriksson 44 Edward A. Ross, The Old World in the New: The Significance of Past and Present Immigration to the American People (New York, 1914), 81–83, 91–92. Quotations on p. 91 and 92. 45 H. Arnold Barton, “Swedish Americans and the Viking Discovery of America,” in Interpreting the Promise of America: Essays in Honor of Odd Sverre Lovoll, ed. Todd W. Nichol (Northfield: Norwegian-American Historical Association, 2002); Orm Øverland Immigrants Minds, American Identities: Making the United States Home, 1870–1930 (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2000), 155–56. 46 Karin Tarschys, Svenska språket och litteraturen: Studier över modersmålsundervisningen i högre skolor (Stockholm: Natur och kultur, 1955), 261–62. 47 Dag Blanck, The Creation of an Ethnic Identity: Being Swedish American in the Augustana Synod, 1860-1917 (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2006) 163–64. 48 Ulf Beijbom, “The Historiography of Swedish America,” Swedish Pioneer Historical Quarterly 31 (October 1980): 264–65. 49 Johan Alfred Enander, Förenta Staternas historia utarbetad för den svenska befolkningen i Amerika (Chicago: Enander och Bohmans förlag, 1874–1877). 50 Enander, Förenta Staternas historia (1874), preface. 51 Enander, Förenta Staternas historia (1874), 50. 52 Kolodny, In Search of First Contact, 213. 53 Odd Lovoll, A Century of Urban Life: The Norwegians in Chicago Before 1930 (Northfield: Norwegian-American Historical Association, 1988), 184–86. 54 Johan Enander, Nordmännen i Amerika eller Amerikas upptäckt (Rock Island: Lutheran Augustana Book Concern, 1893). 55 Enander, Nordmännen i Amerika, 65–66. 56 Augustana, 8 June 1893. 57 Dag Blanck, “‘A Mixture of People with Different Roots’: Swedish Immigrants in the American Ethno-Racial Hierarchies,” Journal of American Ethnic History 33 (Spring 2014): 37–55. 58 Jon Gjerde, Catholicism and the Shaping of Nineteenth-Century America (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 136. 59 Augustana, 9 April 1891. 60 Augustana, 31 March 1892. 61 George Bancroft, History of the United States from the Discovery of the American Continent, vol. 1 (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1866), 5–6. 62 Barnes, Viking America, 48. 63 For the following paragraphs, see Johan Enander, “Sveriges roll i världshistorien,” ms. in the J.A. Enander collection in the archives of Riksföreningen Sverigekontakt, Landsarkivet, Göteborg (The Provincial Archives, Gothenburg, Sweden). 64 Johan Enander, “En dröm,” in Enander, Valda skrifter, I (Chicago: A. Harlings förlag, 1892), 19–21. 65 J. S. Carlson, Amerikas siste svensk: Tal hållet i Minneapolis (Minneapolis: Privately printed, 1908). 66 Carlson, Amerikas siste svensk, 12. 67 Øverland, Immigrants Minds, 63–67. 68 Svanberg, Decolonizing the Viking Age, 50. 69 Rogers M. Smith, Civic Ideals: Conflicting Visions of Citizenship in US History (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997), 15. 70 Matthew Frye Jacobson, Whiteness of a Different Color: European Immigrants and the Alchemy of Race (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1998), 39–40. Quotation on p. 40. 
work_qh6zxefjmraopa6mk5fdagc3pu	----	In Memoriam tions but also for the very nature of American society." Obviously, he supplemented his fine research skills with an effective crystal ball. Bill was also a devoted teacher. He regularly taught courses on the presidency, comparative executive behavior, federalism, state politics, policy analysis, politics and aging, and politics and health policy. He taught both undergraduate and grad- uate students, and he spent a great deal of time outside the classroom guiding his students. He probably supervised more dissertations in the American field than anyone else on the faculty. Bill served for a number of years on the selection committee for state legislative internships. He helped many students, not only at USC, to serve as interns in Sacra- mento, California. In latter years, Bill also encour- aged junior faculty. He was quick to agree to serve on faculty review committees, and he helped a number of younger faculty to achieve promo- tion and tenure. While Bill's research often cen- tered on important government pol- icy and the politically powerful, he was also concerned about the plight of average Americans. He once said in an interview with the media that "All of us should remind ourselves of the importance of ordinary acts of kindliness, like offering to drive an elderly neighbor to a physician or just calling up your 80 year-old grandmother to ask how she's doing. To individually reach out and touch someone among the elderly—by telephone or otherwise—is really as consequential in its own way as any type of collective reform." In short, Bill was an outstanding scholar and teacher. His research on the presidency, in particular, has shed important light on that critical office. He was an exemplary col- league and the moral backbone of our department. His presence, wis- dom, and good humor will be sorely missed. Bill is survived by his wife, Mary, and daughters Linda and Caroline Lammers. Sheldon Kamieniecki University of Southern California Marcella A. MacDonald Marcella A. MacDonald, 57, assis- tant professor of political science at SUNY-Brockport, died at her Brock- port home in November 1997. Mac- Donald had taught at Brockport since 1968, specializing in political theory and women's studies. She was active in faculty governance, includ- ing service as chair of her depart- ment's governance committee, as a Faculty Senator, as a representative to the faculty union, and as a mem- ber of the Women's Studies Board. She was born in Timmins, Ont., and had degrees from the University of Brunswick (B. A.), the University of Melbourne (M.A.), and Yale Uni- versity (Ph.D.). Dr. MacDonald was a bright, witty, compassionate teacher, colleague, and friend. She scorned the traditional formalities of faculty-student relations and culti- vated long-standing friendships with many of her students. William G. Andrews SUNY-Brockport Robert Dale Miewald Robert D. Miewald, professor of political science at the University of Nebraska, Lincoln, died October 18, 1997. Bob was born in Chinook, Montana, May 16, 1938. As a boy, he came to know ranching and farm- ing on the Montana plains. After selling the ranch, the family moved to Enterprise, Oregon, where his father was employed by the Forest Service. Bob graduated from Enter- prise High School in 1956 and from the University of Oregon in 1960. From 1961 to 1963, he served in the U.S. Army. Following military ser- vice, he completed his doctorate in political science at the University of Colorado. Bob began his professional career at California State University, Long Beach, where he was an assistant professor and coordinator of the graduate program in public adminis- tration. In 1971, he joined the fac- ulty of the University of Nebraska, Lincoln as an associate professor. He was promoted to full professor in 1978. At Nebraska, Bob served as chair of the department from 1974 to 1977 and 1988-1990. From 1978, he served as the director of the graduate specialization in policy analysis and program evaluation. Bob was a master teacher, an en- gaging and thoughtful writer, an un- selfish colleague, dear friend, and mentor. A quite and reserved man in most social settings, in the class- room he was a performer. Whether teaching a class of several hundred or a seminar of less than ten, whether first year or graduate stu- dents, Bob made the often dry sub- ject matter of public administration come to life. Courses in personnel administration, budgeting, and man- agement are not the stuff that typi- cally turns students on, but Bob was able to do so. His classes were al- ways full and the students always left with a smile. His style and approach are reflected in his book, Public Ad- ministration: A Critical Perspective. He opens with a quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, "There are some subjects which have kind of a right to dull treatment. Public administra- tion has always been one of those subjects." With criticism and humor, he could turn the dull into the de- lightful. Bob also reached students because he had something to say. He would walk them through the world of ad- ministration but the journey would not stop with the mechanical and superficial. He dealt with issues at the core. To him, administration and organization were important because they were a way to get things done, but he always cautioned his students to be aware of the dehumanizing potential that lay in the bowels of many an organization. First and foremost, he would remind them, stay committed to your fellow per- son. Bob would often drive home the point, "being in charge is never an excuse for being a bastard." Many a student left his classroom with a greater understanding of ad- ministration. More importantly, many left with a greater understand- ing of the human condition. In spite of his success as a teacher, Bob would not allow him- self to be nominated for a teaching award. No one knows why; Bob didn't share such things. We suspect that for him, turning students on was simply the job and didn't deserve special recognition. 86 PS: Political Science & Politics 
work_qkbsljvlyjaxlo3xemf4jutosy	----	Microsoft Word - DEF Claudio Kulesko __ Don't Fear the Reaper revised.docx LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 197 Don’t Fear the Reaper di CLAUDIO KULESKO Abstract Moving from the concept of «patchwork», used by Gilles Deleuze in regards of XIX century North-American Literature, this essay explores the relations and the possible interactions be- tween the works and themes of Walt Whitman and Edgar Allan Poe. I try to analyze the work of these two authors from two different perspectives on the natural world: the first one related to organic processes and life cycles, the second to dissolutive processes and to the horrors of death. Final aim of the text is the construction of a synthetic field, able to give account of the duplicity of those two dimensions in the operativity of nature. What will emerge from this synthetic field is the New World’s non pulsed man, split between the two conceptual characters of Whitman’s va- grant-sower and Poe’s catatonic-dreamer. All our times have come Here but now they’re gone Seasons don’t fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain, we can be like they are. Blue Öyster Cult, (Don’t Fear) The reaper Due figli del Nuovo Mondo Troviamo, alle origini della letteratura americana, due campi di forze, attraversati da schegge vaganti: un orizzonte di pura luce, abbagliante come un’alba, e un vortice crepu- scolare, infestato da spettri. Da un lato, Walt Whitman, «un cosmo, il figlio di Manhattan, turbolento, carnale, sensuale, che mangia e beve e procrea» (Whitman 1965: 53). Dall’al- tro, Edgar Allan Poe, un abisso, un coacervo di infermità e follia, «non lavato, gli occhi torvi e gonfi, senza giacca né cravatta, il davanti della camicia stazzonato e sudicio» (Cabau 1961: 126). Ciascuno di questi due poli agisce come una sorta di imponente pulsazione, intercettando i frammenti che ne turbano la quieta linearità, producendo sciami e molti- tudini: il ruggire dell’oceano e l’inarrestabile danza dei miasmi pestilenziali, lo sconfinato LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 198 tappeto di fili d’erba e trentadue piccoli oggetti, simili all’avorio1. E poi i poemi, i racconti, i romanzi brevi, i dialoghi, le annotazioni, i fogli sparsi e gli articoli di giornale. Nelle pa- gine di questi due esploratori, il «vagabondo-seminatore» e il «sognatore-catatonico», l’atto di scrittura condensa la caccia al frammento e la raccolta dei materiali all’interno di un campionario ‒ rivelando una certa parentela con le figure, tipicamente americane del pioniere, del trapper e del cercatore d’oro. Dopotutto, «se il frammento è l’innato ameri- cano, è perché l’America stessa è fatta di stati federati e di diversi popoli migranti (mino- ranze): dappertutto collezione di frammenti, assillata dalla minaccia della Secessione, os- sia della guerra» (Deleuze 1996: 80). A questa incessante attività di selezione, tuttavia, si va a sommare un enigmatico amor fati, che coinvolge entrambi gli autori: l’ipostatizzazione culturale di Whitman con il corpo della Terra e con il calore della luce solare, e quella di Poe con le tenebre e il mondo dei morti. È questo intreccio di ricerca cosciente e vertiginosa incoscienza a caratterizzare raccolte quali Foglie d’Erba, o i Racconti del Grottesco e dell’Arabesco, due opere ‒ o, me- glio, due collezioni ‒ nelle quali i frammenti della letteratura e quelli dell’immaginario sembrano disporsi obbedendo a due opposti principi. Una sorta di manicheismo segreto, che accenna a due diverse dimensioni temporali: una orientata al futuro e alla composi- zione, l’altra all’imperturbabilità della decomposizione. Tenteremo di seguire questa duplice pista, che dalle maestose foreste di sequoie con- duce alle soglie del caos ‒ il marasma dei frammenti, il maelstrom. Dopotutto, è proprio dai singoli «frammenti che appare lo sfondo nascosto, celeste o demoniaco» (ibid.: 81), la loro appartenenza a un ritmo specifico e la loro destinazione ultima. Man mano che cia- scun frammento si fa avanti, fuoriuscendo con aria di sfida dal proprio campo di forze, si staglia la figura di un immenso Arlecchino, dall’abito intessuto di toppe di varie forme e colori: è la natura reimmaginata come parata ‒ come combinazione e ricombinazione di parti, o come effetto di risonanza reciproca tra serie. Il Tempo della Semina Io me ne rido di ciò che voi chiamate dissolu- zione, conosco l’ampiezza del tempo. Walt Whitman, Il Canto di Me Stesso Il canto del vagabondo-seminatore è il Canto di Me Stesso (Song of Myself), l’inno dell’eroe individualista che percorre la strada polverosa e gli ampi spazi delle praterie, che nulla di più pretende dalla vita, e che ha il coraggio di affermare: «Esisto come sono, ed è abbastanza» . Questo «myself», tuttavia, ha tutte le caratteristiche di un mondo a se 1 Una serie rispettivamente riferita a Out of the Rolling Ocean the Crowd, La Maschera della Morte Rossa, Il Canto di Me Stesso e Berenice. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 199 stante, «più lontano e più grande» (Whitman 1965: 53) di quello presente, di un «Me» meno angusto dell’«Io» europeo. In esso, risuonano le voci dei prigionieri e degli schiavi, dei malati e dei ladri, «dei deformati e dei triviali, degli stupidi, degli schiocchi e dei di- sprezzati, [della] nebbia nell’aria, [degli] scarabei che arrotolano pallottoline di sterco» (ibid.: 55). «Voci proibite […] voci velate a cui io tolgo il velo», scrive Whitman, «voci vol- gari, da me trasfigurate e rese chiare» (ibid.: 57). Questo procedere all’aria aperta, sotto la luce del sole ‒ il rischiaramento delle voci e la loro trasfigurazione in un discorso collettivo ‒ sono il contrassegno della democrazia radicale di cui Whitman si fa portavoce. Il canto del poeta vagabondo accompagna un’intensa attività di cucitura collettiva, di accosta- mento di frammenti disuguali in un colorato patchwork, ricco di contrasti e complemen- tarità. E se la frammentarietà rappresenta il carattere fondamentale dello spirito ameri- cano, la relazionalità e l’orizzontalità sono l’ago e il filo che hanno consentito di produrre un’Unione. Per certi versi, il vagabondo-seminatore assomiglia al leggendario Johnny Appleseed2, che trascorse la sua vita percorrendo disarmato le zone selvagge, seminando alberi di mele e prendendosene cura, battendo nuovi sentieri e stringendo legami di amicizia ‒ ani- mato dalla speranza di poter costruire e sfamare una giovane nazione. Da ciò si evince che il myself non si esaurisce in un «my-self», nella sfacciata rivendicazione delle propria li- bertà e autonomia individuale, e neppure si limita a indicare una comunità a venire ‒ uno spazio futuro in cui gli individui potranno esprimersi liberamente, e realizzare i propri desideri. Il «Me stesso» è anche uno snodo, una monade che racchiude una fitta e com- plessa rete di relazioni, che comprendono la natura stessa. Scrive Whitman: Un fanciullo mi chiese: “Cos’è l’erba?” e me ne offrì con le sue mani cariche; come po- tevo rispondere al fanciullo? Io non so cosa sia più di quanto egli stesso non lo sappia. Penso che debba essere il vessillo della mia inclinazione, tessuto di verde speranza. Oppure penso che sia il fazzoletto del Signore, un dono profumato, un ricordo lasciato volutamente cadere, recante in qualche angolo il nome del suo proprietario. O imma- gino che l’erba sia essa stessa un fanciullo, un bimbo nato dalla vegetazione. (ibid.: 45) 2 John Chapman (1774-1845) detto, appunto, ‘Johnny Appleseed’ (in italiano ‘Giovannino Semedi- mela’), fu missionario della chiesa neo-cristiana fondata dal teologo e mistico-visionario svedese Emanuel Swedenborg. Viaggio attraverso le regioni selvagge del West, piantando lungo il suo cam- mino migliaia di semi di melo, giungendo a essere considerato uno dei primi ambientalisti e un vero e proprio filantropo. Nessuno sa con esattezza perché Chapman si sia dedicato a questa attività. Gra- zie al segmento a lui dedicato in Lo Scrigno delle 7 Perle (Melody Time, 1948), antologia di animazione prodotta da Walt Disney, Appleseed divenne una vera e propria leggenda. Ritraendo Chapman come un eterno fanciullo innocente, amico delle piante, degli animali e delle popolazioni autoctone, il cor- tometraggio Disney riesce a far emergere il significato profondamente spirituale del viaggio di Cha- pman ‒ mostrando come costruire un Nuovo Mondo significhi, al tempo stesso, costruire una Nuova Umanità. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 200 Persino la blade of grass, il filo d’erba nella sua fragile singolarità, così inerme da ras- somigliare a un bambino indifeso, rimanda alla «natura sfrenata, nella sua potenza origi- naria» (ibid.: 43), presentandosi come una traccia del Dio creatore o, forse, dell’«Anima Suprema», l’Oversoul teorizzata da Ralph Waldo Emerson ‒ il grande vecchio della filoso- fia americana, maestro e guida spirituale di Whitman. Il concetto di Anima Suprema rinvia agli antichi temi platonici e neoplatonici del- l’Anima del Mondo, della Super-Anima o dell’Animale Supremo: un’entità incorporea che conterrebbe in sé tutta la materia planetaria, vivificata e animata da questo stesso princi- pio spirituale3. Il pensiero di Emerson, il «trascendentalismo», è tuttavia contraddistinto da una peculiare «propulsività», da una particolare forma di trascendenza, fondata sull’auto-superamento del mondo. L’Oversoul si realizza e si oltrepassa, in virtù di un in- contenibile «tendere-oltre», ossia attraverso un costante oltrepassamento dinamico della propria attualità. Coltivando la finitezza e l’imperfezione della propria anima individuale ‒ protendendole verso l’infinita perfezione dell’Anima Suprema: l’uomo verrà a scoprire che il mondo è il miracolo perenne che l’anima compie […] e apprenderà che non vi è storia profana, perché tutta la storia è sacra; e che l’universo è rappresentato da un atomo, da un momento di tempo. Egli non tesserà più allora una vita, macchiata di ritagli e di scampoli ma vivrà con una unità divina. (Emerson 2011: 30) La realizzazione di questa unità dell’essere umano con il principio spirituale è in grado di riunire i frammenti (persino i più bassi e i più volgari), e di guidarli verso il futuro. Un’unità che non può non convergere su un’idea di oltrepassamento. Difatti, «se tutte le cose si muovono, germinano e fioriscono, perché noi dovremmo portare con noi, nella nuova ora, brandelli e reliquie?», domanda Emerson, per poi proseguire notando che «la Natura ha orrore di ciò che è vecchio e [che] la vecchiaia sembra [essere] l’unica malattia» (Emerson 1962: 200). Fluendo copiosa dalla sua antica sorgente creativa, «l’anima, [al tempo stesso individuale e cosmica], guarda fermamente innanzi, creandosi un mondo proprio, lasciandosi indietro mondi interi» (Emerson 2011: 9). L’«inclinazione originaria» di cui parla Whitman risponde a questo insieme di tendenze allo sconfinamento, alla germinazione e alla composizione. Una combinazione che si tinge di verde, il colore della speranza, ma che è anche l’orizzonte vegetale delle praterie e delle immensità boschive ‒ straripanti di vita, pericoli e avventure. Facendo collidere potente- mente natura e cultura, Emerson e Whitman mostrano come il conseguimento dell’unità dei frammenti sia un obiettivo rigorosamente performativo, qualcosa che deve essere co- struito, coltivato e coraggiosamente rinnovato nel tempo. Una compositività che, oltre a 3 Tra i testi fondamentali che trattano il tema dell’«Anima Mundi» vi sono il Timeo (2003) di Platone (in particolare il capitolo VI) e le Enneadi (2000) di Plotino (Enneade IV, 4). In epoca moderna, il più importante recupero di questo concetto può essere ritrovato in Sull’anima del mondo (2016), di Frie- drich W. Schelling. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 201 definire il campo operativo della natura ‒ inaugurando una nuova stagione del naturali- smo filosofico ‒ finisce per connotare lo stesso spirito americano. Le opere di Emerson, così come quelle di Whitman, sono pervase dalla necessità di lasciarsi alle spalle il passato britannico, di costruire un nuovo assemblaggio, un Nuovo Mondo, fondato sulla libertà dei frammenti, e sulla loro partecipazione attiva all’unità di un organismo aperto. In entrambi i casi, quello della natura e quello della cultura o della scrittura, «l’Uno non è il trascendente che può contenere anche l’immanenza, ma l’immanente contenuto in un campo trascendentale; Uno è sempre l’indice di una molteplicità» (Deleuze 2010: 12). È per questo motivo che la trascendenza emersoniana è sempre un trans scandere (un «sa- lire al di là»), un desiderio di superamento che scopre, nell’alleanza con gli altri frammenti, ossia nella federazione, la modalità più adatta ad aumentare la potenza individuale. Ri- spetto alla forma statica e indifferenziata della società ‒ fondata sulla socievolezza umana e sul principio della pace sociale ‒ la federazione sembrerebbe rispondere a un’associati- vità, a una potenza combinatoria, attribuibile alla natura stessa e contrassegnata dalla complicità. Si è complici nell’intimità, nel segreto e nel crimine, tuttavia, ciò che contrad- distingue questo tipo di relazione è pur sempre la condivisione di una medesima avven- tura. Nella sua introduzione agli Études sur la Mathèse di Malfatti de Montereggio, Deleuze scrive: La comunità [rappresenta] la realizzazione di un mondo comune, la cui universalità non può venir compromessa né frammentata, ed è tale che, nel corso stesso di questa realizzazione, la sostituzione reciproca dei suoi membri sia sempre possibile, perché indifferente […] Nella complicità, invece, vi è sì un mondo comune, ma ciò che ne co- stituisce la comunione è […] il fatto che ciascuno debba realizzarlo nella totale irridu- cibilità agli altri, per conto proprio e senza alcuna sostituzione possibile. (ibid.: 19) È per questo motivo che il Canto di Me Stesso accompagna sempre il viaggio di una fe- derazione ‒ dalla molecola al filo d’erba, dal pellegrino alla nazione ‒ infondendo spe- ranza in un mondo comune a venire, modulando il delicato rapporto melodico tra singo- larità e collettività. Solo il tradimento dello spirito della federazione ‒ della sua propulsi- vità costitutiva o del rapporto di complicità tra parti ‒ è in grado di dar vita a qualcosa come «Una nazione sotto Dio, indivisibile» («One Nation under God, indivisible»),4 o addi- rittura di precipitare la federazione nella guerra fratricida. La natura appare ora come un «insieme di parti eterogenee: [un] patchwork infinito [che definisce] il mondo come campionario» (Deleuze 1996: 80). Non si tratta più di una 4 Come stabilito dalla Pledge of Allegiance, il giuramento di fedeltà alla bandiera degli Stati Uniti d’Ame- rica, composto da Francis Bellamy nel 1892 e ufficialmente adottato dal Congresso dal 1942. L’ag- giunta «under God» («al cospetto di Dio» o «sotto Dio») è del 1954, presentandosi come la modifica più recente ‒ fortemente voluta dal presidente Dwight D. Eisenhower, allo scopo di riaffermare la trascendenza religiosa della nazione. «President Eisenhower signs ‘in God We Trust’ into law». His- tory, 7 Giugno 2019. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 202 forma (né della forma di tutte le forme), ma di un «processo di relazionalità [che] inventa una polifonia. Non [...] totalità ma riunione, «conclave», «assemblea plenaria» […] un tes- suto di relazioni mobili, che fanno sì che la melodia di una parte intervenga come motivo della melodia di un’altra (l’ape e il fiore)» (ibid.: 83). L’Anima del Mondo è questa grande macchina sintetico-compositiva, l’«hypersynth» che campiona, sintetizza e combina auto- maticamente la trama melodica. Nondimeno, ciascun frammento resta contraddistinto dal proprio irriducibile ritmo, dalle deviazioni e digressioni che inventa, dalle differenze di velocità rispetto agli altri elementi del suo ambiente. Ciascun frammento è un filo d’erba o un germoglio, al tempo stesso unico e parziale. E tuttavia, è proprio questa parzialità a caratterizzare le dimensioni temporali della composizione e della germinazione: il molte- plice, con la sua pluralità prospettica e ritmica, produce attivamente la natura ‒ questa particolare forma di unità, caratterizzata da una segreta complicità tra le sue parti e da un comune desiderio di superamento. In questa ricerca di una salute generale, tanto degli individui quanto dei loro concate- namenti, l’assimilazione e l’accrescimento divengono «nutrizione»: il filo d’erba assorbe i nutrienti di cui ha bisogno dal suolo, dalla superficie cutanea del corpo planetario, per poi essere assimilato dal bufalo, o dalla lepre, e così via. L’immensa prateria verdeggiante, abitata da animali, piante e umani, diviene l’indice di questa grande salute. La morte viene bandita: i figli caduti tornano al grembo della madre, che ne causa la rinascita sotto infinite forme, lungo una catena di potenziamento individuale e reciproco ‒ un’immagine che evoca le figure della Madre Terra, o delle antiche divinità della vegetazione, che partori- scono e nutrono i loro «fanciulli d’erba». All’interno di questo campo, dominato da rigo- gliose forze vitali, la morte è una nota a margine del compostaggio, del passaggio da uno stato di veglia a uno stato di sonno temporaneo, seguito da un immediato e molteplice risveglio ‒ il risveglio di una vita che moltiplica se stessa, divenendo contemporanea- mente batterica, vegetale e animale. Un «Saṃsāra atomico», nel quale le parti che compo- nevano un intero si ricombinano, obbedendo a un’inconscia pulsione di intensificazione e rafforzamento, alla base della stratificazione di tutta la natura. In questo primo senso, Arlecchino ci è apparso come la banda nomade, la «muta di ac- crescimento» che dà inizio alla caccia selvaggia o, ancora, la potenza polifonica degli eco- sistemi e della stessa biosfera. Questa dimensione verde speranza, rigorosamente eco|si- stemica, narrata e cantata da Whitman, si contrappone al tenebroso vortice che domina l’opera di Poe. Se Whitman tenta di incanalare nell’atto di scrittura la speranza e il calore del sole ‒ nel tentativo di produrre un rafforzamento generale delle facoltà umane ‒ Poe sembra condurre il lettore in una dimensione atemporale e gelida, promuovendo un acuirsi dell’immaginazione, a discapito della salute generale dell’organismo. L’atmosfera di demoniaca alienazione che pervade gli scritti di Poe fu spesso bersaglio delle critiche e dell’ironia di Whitman, il quale, tuttavia, il 16 novembre 1875, presenziò alla seconda se- poltura di Poe, confidando a un cronista un singolare sogno, legato alla figura del maestro dell’horror americano: LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 203 A mezzanotte in punto, vidi un vascello andare per il mare in tempesta […] beccheg- giare fuori controllo ‒ le vele strappate, il telaio infranto ‒ attraverso la furia del ne- vischio, i venti di bufera e le onde della notte. In piedi sul ponte, stava una figura esile e slanciata, di una certa bellezza; un uomo pallido, apparentemente compiaciuto del terrore, dell’oscurità e dello spaesamento dei quali era al tempo stesso il centro e la vittima. Il protagonista di questo mio oscuro sogno racchiude in sé l’intera persona di Edgar Poe, il suo spirito, le sue vicende e i suoi poemi ‒ essi stessi, a loro volta, una collezione di oscuri sogni. (Whitman 1892; traduzione mia) Il Corvo Vola nell’Abisso Quell’uccello d’ebano, col suo austero decoro, Indusse a un sorriso le mie fantasie meste, “Benché” dissi “rasata sia la tua cresta, un vile Non sei, orrido antico Corvo venuto da notturne rive Qual è il tuo nome nobile sulle plutonie rive?” Disse il Corvo: “Mai più”. Edgar Allan Poe, Il Corvo Alla moltitudine dei ritmi della germinazione e della composizione si contrappone quella dei ritmi della decomposizione. È il tempo del Verme Conquistatore, che ha come motore immobile la morte, «un cerchio che sempre ritorna, nello stesso identico punto» (Poe 1999: 37), e come araldo la miriade di forze che scompongono gli organismi viventi. Si tratta di folle atmosferiche ‒ tempeste e pensieri ossessivi, epidemie o sciami ‒ forze che sembrano ergersi dalla materia per aggredire la materia stessa, assecondando una macabra logica autofagica, smembrando i corpi e trascinandoli nell’abisso dal quale pro- vengono. Alla singolarità anonima e preindividuale di «una-vita» si congiunge il richiamo spettrale di «una-morte» (Deleuze 2010: 9; Land 2012: 369): la morte in quanto virtualità annidata all’interno corpi, evocata dall’espressione «si muore» ‒ in opposizione alla morte del corpo proprio, alla quale si accompagna la dissoluzione dell’Io individuale. E la morte stessa corrisponde innanzitutto a questo duplice locus-loculum (lo spazio ambiguamente occupato da un corpo o da un cadavere), uno spazio ripiegato su se stesso, dal quale tutte le intensità vitali provengono e al quale fanno ritorno. «Una tendenza idraulica alla dissi- pazione di ogni intensità» (Land 2012: 283) o un vortice a «intensità-zero» (Deleuze & Guattari 1975: 376). Il sognatore-catatonico, strappato allo stato cosciente dalle droghe e dagli alcolici ‒ o «abitualmente sotto l’impero dell’oppio», come il protagonista di Ligeia (Poe 1974: 71) ‒ scivola verso questo freddo assoluto, il Grande Freddo (Deleuze & Guattari 2017: 230) della dimensione cadaverica. Il sognatore risiede proprio in questa zona d’ombra, nell’in- terzona situata tra le attività di composizione e decomposizione. Qui, al limitare del LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 204 tempo, risiedono gli dei e gli spiriti dei defunti, e tutte quelle entità cadute fuori dal dive- nire temporale. Un luogo imperturbabile e quasi eidetico, nel quale Poe ambienta i suoi celebri dialoghi (La Conversazione di Eiros e Charmion e Il Colloquio di Monos e Una), o nel quale immortala paesaggi onirici o arcadici, caratterizzati da una perfezione al limite del delirio (come in L’Isola della Fata e in Il Dominio di Arnheim). A differenza del vagabondo- seminatore, che percorre l’orizzonte e le vette, il sognatore-catatonico è uno scandaglia- tore delle profondità, un esploratore di lande desolate. Una figura meravigliosamente ri- tratta nel breve romanzo Le Avventure di Gordon Pym, nel quale, dopo tutta una serie di tragiche vicissitudini, un marinaio e quel che resta della sua ciurma si inoltrano negli ostili territori del Polo Sud, finendo per imbattersi in una terrificante creatura, tetramente av- volta in un sudario. Tra i ghiacci eterni, Gordon Pym, l’unico sopravvissuto, incontra la Morte stessa, in tutta la sua terrificante immensità ‒ pur riuscendo, infine, a far ritorno a casa sano e salvo. Come nella storia di Gordon Pym, una volta portati alla coscienza e ricomposti attra- verso la scrittura, gli oscuri frammenti che il sognatore ha rinvenuto durante la trance divengono il veicolo di affetti perturbanti e demoniaci ‒ vere e proprie «schegge mortali», dirette alla gola del lettore. L’atmosfera decadente e spesso malsana dei racconti di Poe emana da luoghi privi di connotazioni spazio-temporali e da sequenze di eventi al confine con il soprannaturale (Il Ritratto Ovale), con la follia (L’Angelo del Bizzarro) o persino con la necrofilia e il sadismo (Berenice) ‒ eventi che sollecitano l’immaginazione a trovare i propri limiti e che mettono «l’anima del lettore in balia dello scrittore» (Poe 1842). Se Whitman invita il lettore ad affrancarsi dalla propria finitudine, aumentando collettiva- mente la propria potenza, Poe circoscrive diabolicamente la parzialità, evidenziandone i limiti e la fragilità di fronte alla morte e all’ignoto, all’errore e alla pazzia. Al pari dei pro- tagonisti de Il Cuore Rivelatore e Il Gatto Nero, il lettore è costretto a confrontarsi con un suono sommesso e tuttavia ossessivo, quello della pulsazione primordiale della matrice di ogni vita: la morte stessa. Schopenhauer, nel suo Il Mondo Come Volontà e Rappresentazione, traccia un’affasci- nante e utile similitudine tra la musica e il modus operandi della natura, suggerendo una possibile pista: Nel basso fondamentale io riconosco […] la natura inorganica, la massa del pianeta. Tutti i suoni acuti, agili e veloci, sono notoriamente da considerare come originati dalle oscillazioni secondarie del suono grave, al suono del quale essi risuonano sem- pre lievemente insieme […] Ciò è analogo al fatto che l’insieme di tutti i corpi e degli organismi della natura devono essere considerati come sorti per sviluppo graduale dalla massa dal pianeta: questa dunque la loro sorgente, come pure il loro supporto. (Schopenhauer 2015: 287) Il pianeta, ciò che non è né Terra né Mondo e che precede storicamente lo sviluppo di ogni organismo, è il regno della morte o, meglio, il luogo di una radicale assenza di vita. Se LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 205 il mondo-per-noi rappresenta l’insieme delle conoscenze e delle tecnologie umane (il Mondo), mentre il mondo-in-sé comprende ciò che ancora può essere portato alla luce attraverso di esse (la Terra, la rappresentazione costruita dalle scienze naturali), il pia- neta ‒ anonimo e impersonale, privo di qualsiasi osservatore ‒ racchiude tutta la desola- zione e l’orrore di un «mondo-senza-di-noi» (Thacker 2019). Il trascendentalismo ameri- cano, che sfida e, per certi versi, assalta il mondo per mezzo dei saperi scientifici e filoso- fici5, trova il suo contraltare nel trascendentalismo negativo di Poe, per il quale l’a priori corrisponderebbe in primo luogo alla materia inorganica, a ciò che è non-vivo e che oltre- passa ogni immaginazione e ogni rappresentazione ‒ andando a liquefare quelle partico- lari cristallizzazioni di frammenti che sono l’Io e il Noi. È questa la grande scoperta degli autori della letteratura horror: la dimensione cadaverica come inaccessibile sito di pro- duzione, al tempo stesso vivo e morto, intrinsecamente refrattario alle leggi di natura, alle regole del pensiero e a quelle del discorso razionale. «All’opposto del mondo-per-noi, un mondo umanocentrico fatto a nostra immagine, vi è la nozione di mondo occulto, non in senso relativo ma assoluto […] ciò che è nascosto, celato, avvolto dalle tenebre» e che non può essere in alcun modo disvelato con mezzi parziali (ibid.: 62). In Rivelazione Mesmerica, Poe offre alcune delucidazioni sulla sua bizzarra filosofia oc- culta, fondata sull’imperturbabilità del mondo inorganico: Vi sono due corpi ‒ il rudimentale e il completo, corrispondenti alle due condizioni del verme e della farfalla. Ciò che noi chiamiamo «morte» non è che la dolorosa meta- morfosi […] Gli organi sono gabbie necessarie a contenere gli esseri rudimentali, fin- ché non saranno muniti di penne per volare […] Per gli esseri inorganici ‒ per gli an- geli ‒ l’intera materia imparticolata è sostanza. (Poe 1965: 110-113) Trapassare alla dimensione cadaverica equivale perciò a «transdiscendere» all’interno di un’orrida versione inorganica dell’Anima Suprema. Sprofondare in questo stato di pro- fonda catatonia significa pervenire alla felicità negativa, ossia all’assenza di qualsiasi sti- molo. Nel corso di questo processo di spoliazione, la coscienza viene semplicemente vola- tilizzata, non essendo altro che un mero intrattenimento, al quale gli organismi si dedi- cano, o una bruta necessità dettata dalla sopravvivenza. Per Poe, l’Aldilà corrisponde a un al di là assoluto ‒ non un oltrepassamento, ma una caduta nel buio: «Per lo spirito che va nella tenebra oh, è certo un Eldorado! Ma il viandante che l’attraversa non osa, non può guardarla davvero; i suoi misteri non sono svelati ai deboli occhi umani, ancor non chiusi» (Poe 1999: 42). In questa notte meontologica, le moltitudini epidemiche (Re Peste, La Maschera della Morte Rossa), le bocche affamate (Il Verme Conquistatore) e gli strumenti di sezionamento e smembramento (Berenice, Il Mistero di Marie Roget, Il Delitto della Rue Morgue), sono gli 5 Sfociando, infine, nel pragmatismo di autori quali Peirce, James e Dewey, promotori del progresso sociale e scientifico. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 206 agenti decompositivi del corpo planetario. Se, nella versione di Whitman, la morte rap- presenta solo un’illusione, un breve intervallo tra l’unità e la molteplicità, in quella di Poe essa assume i connotati di una molteplicità che si tuffa in una imperscrutabile unità. Ciò che Poe ha reso visibile è lo scarto tra la frammentazione del corpo e la liberazione dell’anima ‒ la quale, pervenendo al silenzio inorganico attraverso una sorta di «aneste- sia», giunge infine a coincidere con il pianeta, ossia con il mondo-senza-di-noi. E sarebbe proprio l’anima, il «corpo superiore» e privo di organi, a premere dalle profondità del «corpo rudimentale», affinché quest’ultimo si risolva a deporre gli organi. Non a caso, que- sto corpo superiore coinciderebbe a-priori con l’unica sostanza, al di là di ogni particola- rità e di ogni parzialità. Questa tendenza degli organismi a fuggire verso l’inorganico defi- nisce quella che Poe, settantacinque anni prima della freudiana pulsione di morte, deno- minò «perversità»: una misteriosa inclinazione all’autodistruzione e all’abbandono degli appigli offerti dalle facoltà sensitive e razionali (Poe 1965: 526-533). Sotto l’egida della morte, lo stesso concetto di vita diviene impensabile: ogni istante si tramuta in un passo verso la dimensione cadaverica, la vita in un mero accidente della morte o in un suo epifenomeno, ogni desiderio in un segreto desiderio di annientamento. Come scrive Timothy Morton in Dark Ecology «La vita è un’ambigua e spettrale entità ‘non-morta’, oscillante tra due diversi tipi di morte: le macchinazioni della pulsione di morte e la dissoluzione degli oggetti fisici» (2016: 97; traduzione mia). Tuttavia, è proprio questa dimensione contraddittoria a mettere a dura prova sia la ragione che l’immagina- zione umane, proiettandoci all’interno di un campo di puro orrore. Osservata dall’abisso della morte, la natura rassomiglia più a un vortice distruttivo (il maelstrom) o a un buco nero, che a una madre benevola. Arlecchino sembrerebbe essere tornato alle sue origini pagane: l’Hölle König o Helle King, il signore dell’Inferno che, nelle notti più oscure, va a caccia di anime, accompagnato dalla sua coorte di demoni. Il verde viene letteralmente divorato dal nero, e sovrastato da una impenetrabile cappa di dispe- razione e rassegnazione6. Oscurare il Verde, Coltivare il Nero The quiet hum of the earth’s dreaming is my new song When I awake, the world will be born anew Wolves in the Throne Room, I will lay down my bones among the rocks and roots 6 L’idea di un «annerimento» pessimista e nichilista del verde è stata suggerita da Niall Scott nel suo “Blac- kening the Green”, all’interno della raccolta Melancology. Black metal theory and ecology (2014). LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 207 Ogni discorso riguardante la natura è apparentemente condannato a concludersi con una scelta tra due opzioni radicalmente antagoniste: o la natura è vita e composizione, o è morte e annientamento; un’alternativa che diviene immediatamente etica, comportando un’ulteriore scelta, quella tra ottimismo e pessimismo. Nell’Anti-Edipo, tuttavia, Deleuze e Guattari ci mettono in guardia dall’opporre drasticamente queste due differenti dimensioni: Il modello della morte appare quando il corpo senza organi respinge e depone gli or- gani […] fino all’auto-mutilazione, fino al suicidio. E tuttavia non c’è opposizione reale tra il corpo senza organi e gli organi in quanto oggetti parziali […] C’è solo la morte che desidera, a titolo di corpo senza organi o di motore immobile, e c’è anche la vita che desidera, a titolo di organi di lavoro. Non si tratta qui di due desideri, ma di due pezzi, di due sorte di pezzi della macchina desiderante, nella dispersione della mac- china stessa […] La repulsione è la condizione di funzionamento della macchina, ma l’attrazione è il funzionamento stesso. (Deleuze & Guattari 1975: 376-377) Oltre a non richiede un intervento da parte del principio di non contraddizione, la sim- metria tra vita e morte non sembrerebbe neppure riducibile a un rapporto di tipo dialet- tico ‒ che ne comporterebbe la distribuzione lungo momenti differenti. La composizione e la decomposizione risuonerebbero l’una nell’altra, tramite la combinazione sincronica di due semplici principi, quello di repulsione e quello di attrazione ‒ dando così origine alla complessità dei fenomeni naturali e alle labirintiche circonvoluzioni del vivente. L’in- terrogativo sullo statuto morale della natura (benevola madre o matrigna spietata? Gaia o Medea?), lascia spazio a un’esplorazione delle sovrapposizioni e degli intrecci prodotti da questo duplice riecheggiare. Difatti, pur rappresentando la matrice originaria, il luogo al quale tutta la vita dovrà prima o poi fare ritorno, il «basso fondamentale» descritto da Schopenhauer non è il metro dominante dei processi naturali o della composizione musi- cale, ma un ritmo fondamentale, non-orientato, ateleologico e contrassegnato da diffe- renze di velocità ‒ sul quale le tonalità medie del mondo animale e vegetale, nonché quelle squisitamente alte prodotte dall’essere umano, possono innalzarsi liberamente. Per Scho- penhauer, è proprio in virtù di questa assenza di direzionalità che la Volontà, cieca e idiota, si andrebbe a oggettivare secondo modi e temporalità differenti, attraverso il mondo mi- nerale, vegetale, animale e umano ‒ senza contare la miriade di differenze che si vengono a instaurare tra i diversi generi e le diverse specie, o tra gli individui appartenenti al me- desimo genere o alla medesima specie. Si tratta di un campo di pura sperimentazione rit- mica, dischiuso dal nereggiare del nero nel verde, e da un corrispettivo verdeggiare del verde nel nero. Una reciprocità che ci costringe ad abbandonare l’eco-utopia di un’armo- nizzazione totale dei frammenti ‒ di una pacificazione perpetua, all’insegna dell’unità po- litica, ecologica ed epistemologica ‒ ma che ci invita anche a non lasciarci sprofondare nell’abisso di progetti suicidi, tra i fantasmi dell’estinzione e della guerra totale. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 208 Lasciandosi alle spalle le rigide contrapposizioni dialettiche tra il bianco e il nero, tra il nulla e l’essere, tra il vuoto e il pieno (una serie di contraddizioni risolvibili solo in virtù di un miracolo, o di un artificio retorico), la complementarità del verde e del nero spri- giona una miriade di variazioni tonali ‒ la parata di ritmi, forme e colori che contraddi- stingue la blusa di Arlecchino. Un sapere frammentario, al tempo stesso poetico, empirico ed estetico, che riflette la potenza e l’originalità del patchwork. BIBLIOGRAFIA Cabau, J. (1961). E.A. Poe. (Trad. it. di G. Veronesi). Milano: Mondadori. Deleuze, G. (1996). Critica e clinica. (Trad. it. di A. Panaro). Milano: Raffaello Cortina Editore. Deleuze, G. (2010). Immanenza. (Trad. it. di F. Polidori). Milano-Udine: Mimesis Edizioni. Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (1975). L’Anti-Edipo: Capitalismo e schizofrenia. (Trad. it. di A. Fontana). Torino: Giulio Einaudi Editore. Deleuze, G., & Guattari, F. (2017). Mille piani: Capitalismo e schizofrenia. (A cura di P. Vi- gnola. Trad. it. di G. Passerone, rivista da P. Vignola e M. Guareschi). Napoli-Salerno: Orthotes. Emerson, R.W. (1962). “La Superanima”. In Saggi. (Trad. it. di P. Bertolucci). Torino: Bol- lati Boringhieri, 196-218. Emerson, R. W. (2011). L’Anima Suprema. (Trad. it. di F. Zampini Salazar). Aprilia: Ortica Editore. Land, N. (2012). Fanged noumena. Padstow: Urbanomic. Morton, T. (2016). Dark ecology: For a logic of future coexistence. New York, NY: Columbia University Press. Platone. (2003). Timeo. (A cura di F. Fronterotta). Milano: Rizzoli. Plotino. (2000). Enneadi. (Trad. it. di G. Faggin. A cura di G. Faggin e R. Radice). Milano: Bompiani. Poe, E.A. (1872). “Commento critico a Twice-told tales, di N. Hawthorne”. Originariamente apparso in Graham’s Magazine, maggio 1842. Raccolto in it. in Hawthorne, N. (2013). Tutti i racconti. Milano: Feltrinelli Editore. Poe, E.A. (1965). Racconti Straordinari. (Trad. it. di F. Pivano, A.C. Rossi, A. Traverso, V. Vaquer). Firenze: Sansoni Editore. Poe, E.A. (1974). Racconti. (Trad. it. di G. Cambon, A. Guidi e G. Baldini). Milano: Aldo Gar- zanti Editore. Poe, E.A. (1999). Il corvo e 25 poesie. (Trad. it. di S. Colonna e M. Cucchi). Milano: Arnoldo Mondadori Editore. LA DELEUZIANA – ONLINE JOURNAL OF PHILOSOPHY – ISSN 2421-3098 N. 10 / 2019 – RHYTHM, CHAOS AND NONPULSED MAN 209 Schelling, W.F. (2016). Sull’anima del mondo: Un’ipotesi della fisica superiore per la spiega- zione dell’organismo universale. Napoli-Salerno: Orthotes. Schopenhauer, A. (2015). Il mondo come volontà e rappresentazione. (Trad. it. di G.C. Giani). Roma: Newton Compton Editori. Scott, N. (2014). “Blackening the green”. In S. Wilson (a cura di), Melancology: Black metal theory and ecology. Winchester, UK: Zero Books, 66-81. Thacker, E. (2019). Tra le ceneri di questo pianeta. (Trad. it. di C. Kulesko). Roma: Nero Edizioni. Whitman, W. (1892). “Edgar Poe’s significance”. In Specimen Days. In Walt Whitman: Com- plete prose works (1818-1892). Vol. I. Philadelphia, PA: David McKay. Whitman, W. (1965). Poesie. (A cura di R. Sanesi). Milano: Nuova Accademia Editrice. SITOGRAFIA «President Eisenhower signs ‘in God We Trust’ into law. History, 7 Giugno 2019. Ultimo accesso effettuato il 08 giugno 2019 all’indirizzo: https://www.history.com/this-day- in-history/president-eisenhower-signs-in-god-we-trust-into-law. VIDEOGRAFIA Disney, W. (produttore), Geronimi, C., Jackson, W., Luske, H., Kinney, J. (registi). (1948). Lo scrigno delle 7 perle (animazione). Stati Uniti d’America: RKO Radio Pictures. DISCOGRAFIA Roeser, D. (1976). (Don’t fear) The reaper. In Blue Öyster Cult. Agents of fortune. New York, NY: Columbia. Wolves in the Throne Room. (2007). I will lay down my bones among the rocks and roots. In Two Hunters. Los Angeles, CA: Southern Lord Records. 
work_qmbit4g7tndb7hwmebkkm6xvcq	----	The Ethics of Technology: From Thinking Big to Small—and Big Again ORIGINAL PAPER The Ethics of Technology: From Thinking Big to Small—and Big Again Carl Mitcham1,2 Received: 25 June 2020 / Accepted: 7 July 2020 / Published online: 23 July 2020 � Springer Nature B.V. 2020 Abstract The trajectory of critical ethical reflection on technology has been from big issues (eighteenth century arguments for social revolution responding to the evils of the industrial revolution) to small ones (particular issues associated with the practices of engineers). It is time again to think in large-scale terms. Keywords Ethics of technology � Engineering � Philosophy of technology � Socialism Let us jump back to 1603, the year of the death of Queen Elizabeth the first. William Shakespeare was at the peak of his creative genius as tragic dramaturge, having just produced Hamlet and on the verge of writing Othello, King Lear, and Macbeth. James VI of Scotland ascended the throne as James I of England and Ireland, and would sponsor the ‘‘King James’’ translation of the Bible. It was a period of unparalleled English aesthetic achievement. England was not isolated in this cultural flourishing. In the Netherlands it was the middle of the Eighty Years’ War and beginning of the Dutch Golden Age; Rembrandt van Rijn would be born six years later. In Spain, Cervantes was nearing the end of his life; in France, Molière was approaching the beginning of his. Having served in minor positions under Elizabeth, Francis Bacon (1858), age 42, was elevated by the new monarch; he was immediately knighted and in fifteen years became Lord Chancellor. To that point his life had spanned not just the greatest period of English language creativity to date but simmering religious strife on the island and, on the continent, from the Peasants’ War (which began in Germany in 1524) forward, one religious conflict after another, all predicated on some fine point & Carl Mitcham cmitcham@mines.edu 1 International Professor of Philosophy of Technology, Renmin University of China, Beijing 100872, China 2 Professor Emeritus, Humanities, Arts, and Social Sciences, Colorado School of Mines, Golden, CO 80401, USA 123 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 https://doi.org/10.1007/s10516-020-09505-8(0123456789().,-volV)(0123456789().,-volV) http://orcid.org/0000-0003-4199-5940 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s10516-020-09505-8&amp;domain=pdf https://doi.org/10.1007/s10516-020-09505-8 of doctrinal disagreement. Catholics were killing Protestants, Protestants were killing Catholics, Catholics were killing Catholics, and Protestants were killing Protestants. The internecine warfare would produce at least 10 million deaths across a population considerably under 100 million, before it was moderated in 1648 by the Peace of Westphalia. At Westphalia the exhausted parties agreed that enough was enough, accepted the equal legitimacy of different Christian traditions across national borders, and recognized the sovereignty of nations to make their own choices. It was in this Janus-faced context of creativity and fanaticism that Lord Chancellor Bacon in 1620 (during a period in which Thomas Hobbes was serving as his secretary) published Novum Organum and sought to turn minds from theologically nit-picking based mutual slaughter to a grander and more beneficial ethical vision. Printing, gunpowder and the compass: These three have changed the whole face and state of things throughout the world; the first in literature, the second in warfare, the third in navigation; whence have followed innumerable changes, in so much that no empire, no sect, no star seems to have exerted greater power and influence in human affairs than these mechanical discoveries. (Novum Organum I, 129, adapted Spedding trans.) Over the next two hundred years this nascent pro-technology ethics—which strived to shift attention away from conquering others to save their eternal souls toward a collective conquest of nature for the material benefit of our mortal lives—blossomed into the Enlightenment technological project. Following in the footsteps of Niccolò Machiavelli, Bacon’s paradoxical effort to raise the mind to lower standards in human affairs succeeded in accord with his wildest expectations. Bacon’s observation and associated argument, with its effort to redirect moral energy away from reflection mired in small-scale confessional religious casuistry toward large-scale concern for this-worldly human power and wealth, became the distinctive foundation for the ethics of modern technology. It served as the core justification for both the Royal Society (founded in 1660) and the Institution of Civil Engineers (from 1818). The Royal Society can be read as a Baconian response to a post-Baconian outbreak of theological political fanaticism within England that led to the beheading of King Charles I and animated two decades of civil war. When the crown was restored to Charles II in 1660, among his first acts was to formally charter the Royal Society to ‘‘encourage philosophical studies, especially those which by actual experiments attempt … to shape out a new philosophy’’. The goal was ‘‘to extend not only the boundaries of the [British] Empire, but also the very arts and sciences’’ by promoting ‘‘the sciences of natural things and of useful arts’’ so that they ‘‘may shine conspicuously amongst our people.’’ ‘‘At length’’, proclaimed the King, ‘‘the whole world [should] recognize us … as the universal lover and patron of every kind of truth.’’ Truth in biblical religion was in the process of being supplemented with (eventually to be superseded by) truth in natural philosophy and its utilities for power and improvement. 123 590 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 According to Thomas Sprat’s early History of the Royal Society, its inspiration was ‘‘one great Man, who had the true Imagination of the whole extent of this Enterprise, as it is now set on foot; and that is, the Lord Bacon.’’ Sprat would have preferred, he wrote, ‘‘there should have been no other Preface to the History of the Royal Society’’ than Bacon’s own works (Sprat 1667, p. 35). Shortly after its founding the Institution of Civil Engineers (ICE) sought to emulate the Royal Society. When in 1828 it applied for a royal charter, King George IV requested a definition of this new thing called ‘‘engineering.’’ For precisely what was he to grant a royal approval? ICE President Thomas Telford, the most famous engineer of the realm, tasked a younger colleague, Thomas Tredgold, with drafting a summary statement. The resultant short essay, ‘‘Description of a Civil [meaning non-military] Engineer,’’ opened as follows: Civil Engineering is the art of directing the great Sources of Power in Nature for the use and convenience of man; being that practical application of the most important principles of natural Philosophy [that is, science] which has in a considerable degree realized the anticipations of [Francis] Bacon, and changed the aspect and state of affairs in the whole world [note the echo of Bacon’s claim about printing, gunpowder, and the compass]. The most important object of Civil Engineering is to improve the means of production and of traffic in States, both for external and internal Trade. (See Mitcham 2020, p. 368) The first sentence of this short white paper, with its appeal to the value of human ‘‘use and convenience’’ (a principle grounded in the moral theory of David Hume), was then incorporated into the Royal Charter—and has ever since served in some form as the standard definition of English-speaking engineering. Transforming material culture by means of quantitative productivity in physical goods and trade is what marks engineering off from, for instance, scientific knowledge production and the architectural design of domestic or civic space. The ICE constituted a social institutionalization of Bacon’s lowering of the standards in the name of this-worldly achievement. Over the course of the next century this grand but simple ethical vision—which became the core morality of the Industrial Revolution—was progressively subject to Romantic and socialist challenges: what have been called the cultural and political criticisms of science, engineering, and technology. The cultural criticism is succinctly illustrated by the poet William Blake’s petition: ‘‘May God us keep From Single vision & Newton’s sleep’’ (Letter to Thomas Butt, 22 November 1802). Reality is greater than what is revealed by modern science. As he also wrote in ‘‘Mock On, Mock On, Voltaire, Rousseau’’ (from Blake’s 1804 Notebook): The Atoms of Democritus And the Newton’s Particles of Light Are sands upon the Red Sea shore, Where Israel’s tents do shine so bright. This is more than a strictly epistemological criticism. The domination of scientific reason deforms culture and thereby human achievement. 123 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 591 A political criticism emerged in association with that elaboration of Hume’s moral theory into the doctrine of utilitarianism. Although Napoleon’s defeat in 1815 ushered in a long-nineteenth century peace between European states, civil strife continued domestically: over the condition of the industrialized working class and about the distribution of goods mass produced by industrially engineered technology. In England, philosophers such as Jeremy Bentham and John Stuart Mill were more than professors of ethics. Utilitarian theory developed as a way to reform law and the state. Mill himself served for a short period as a Member of Parliament. The stop-and-go democratization of the techno-lifeworld over the course of the 1800 s and into the twentieth century was repeatedly galvanized by what many academic philosophers today might well term big, sloppy ideas. Indeed, in an effort to escape such sloppiness, the turn of the century witnessed attempts in the English-speaking world to professionalize ethics with an increasingly narrow and restrained focus. G.E. Moore’s Principia Ethica (1903) can serve as a case in point. Its opening words, in the analytical table of contents, read as follows: In order to define Ethics, we must discover what is both common and peculiar to all undoubted ethical judgements; ... this is not that they are concerned with human conduct, but that they are concerned with a certain predicate ‘‘good,’’ and its converse ‘‘bad,’’ which may be applied both to conduct and to other things. (Moore 1903, p. xiii) Compare that with the opening, a hundred years prior, of Jeremy Bentham’s An Introduction to the Principles of Morals and Legislation (1781): Nature has placed mankind under the governance of two sovereign masters, pain and pleasure.... The principle of utility recognizes this subjection, and assumes it for the foundation of that system, the object of which is to rear the fabric of felicity by the hands of reason and of law. (chapter 1, paragraph 1) Moore is concerned about ‘‘the difficulties and disagreements [in ethics], of which its history is full’’ and seeks to respond with conceptual clarifications. Bentham, having studied the law, is disgusted and wants to reform it. Bentham ushered in more than century of ethically stimulated social reform: He argued for making prisons more humane, expanding the democratic franchise, free education, safer working conditions, guaranteed employment, a minimum wage, sickness benefits, and retirement insurance. He worked to pass child labor and public health laws. He collaborated with the utopian socialist Robert Owen to defend the social construction of New Lanark. He opposed not just slavery, well before its abolition in Britain in 1833, but the whole of colonialism. Bentham’s meliorist ethics of technology was radicalized by the soon-to-be resident alien Karl Marx, whose declaration that the purpose of philosophy ‘‘is not just to interpret the world but to change it’’ is often quoted. In rallying the working class to revolutionary, global action, Marx and Friedrich Engels recognized the need to simplify their interpretation of the science, technology, society relationship in order to cast it in big-picture terms: The Communist Manifesto (1848). The American pragmatist John Dewey (1927), also sought large-scale reforms in 123 592 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 education and government precisely to address the disharmonies and injustices introduced by capitalist technology, but never presented his argument in pamphlet format. Dewey just kept writing and writing, saying the same thing over and over again, with little rhetorical flair—and having no more than marginal influence. Although feted as America’s greatest philosopher, he never had the impact of a Ralph Waldo Emerson or Henry David Thoreau. Both Marx and Dewey argued that modern technology introduced into the human lifeworld challenges that called for political as well as conceptual and personal responses. For Marx, power needed to shift from the minority capitalist class, which, like any class, would always view the use of technology through the lens of its own self-interest, into the hands of a majority class whose interests were more expansive and thus more just. Justice required that industrial production be governed not just by those who profited from it but by all those affected by technology, especially those suffering its negative impacts. Marx and later Marxists found it difficult to imagine this taking place without social disruption—but, in their efforts at revolution, sponsored sufferings of unimaginable proportions. Humans could be mobilized to slaughter others in the name of future this worldly benefits as well eternal salvation. For Dewey, meliorism was preferable to revolution. The separations or mediations that technological power introduces into human perception and action call for the gradual transformation of society into a kind of democratically guided technocracy. Take the quotidian case of drinking water. For thousands of years people had usually been able to identify water that was safe to drink on the basis of non- instrumented perception: If water from a stream appeared clear, smelled OK, and a small sample tasted good, it was usually safe to drink. If it did not meet these criteria, one could always look for another source. But in industrial cities, where water is often contaminated by chemicals that cannot be seen, smelled, or tasted, and there are no alternatives to the tap, governments must establish technical agencies to provide and monitor water systems. The process of the socially constructing water systems took place gradually over a hundred year period. This was not a construction process that could work well by revolution. Additionally, since we are all dependent on engineers and scientists, we need to develop sufficient technoscientific literacy to appreciate, provide secondary level oversight, and understand the need to pay taxes necessary to support the infrastructure, its operation, management, and maintenance. This process of cultivating the relevant technoscientific literacy begins in primary school when we are taken on field trips to visit water treatment plants and meet its managers. In the mid-twentieth century this democratic socialist ethics of science, engineering, and technology in the form of regulatory and meliorist programs was undermined on three interrelated fronts. First, we became increasingly aware of unintended consequences of technolog- ical actions—even actions that were undertaken by virtuous experts, with the right intentions, that produced some good consequences. There were often also negative side effects or second-order consequences. We needed a new kind of agency to do technology assessment—which paradoxically and unintentionally introduced 123 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 593 potentials for public mistrust of the abilities of experts to accurately predict the results of their work. Second, we became aware that socialism was not enough. There was a non- human environment to consider. This gave rise of the second wave environmental movement and establishment of environmental protection agencies. Here the work of public spirited scientists such as Rachel Carson (1962) served as major catalysts. But Carson was also charged with masking her personal appreciation for the environment in scientific claims that had negative health and economic conse- quences for others. Indeed, third, we became aware that the managers of technical agencies— including technology assessment and environmental protection agencies—tended to form a ‘‘new class’’ that often promoted its own self-interests. This became the big neo-liberal argument for outsourcing government regulation and replacing planned with emergent orders through market forces and other libertarian forms of interaction: in Friedrich von Hayek’s (1969) phrase, as ‘‘the result of human action but not of human design.’’ Spontaneous order was to be preferred over consciously designed order on both economic and moral grounds. Recent rhetoric associated with the concept of the Anthropocene as an emergent new global order in climate can be strangely comforting to the neoliberal mind. In an effort to negotiate these three overlapping challenges, and in association with increasing academic professionalization, the ethics of technology retreated to prioritizing small problems over big ones. In the last quarter of the twentieth century, the ethics of technology moved to abandon any broad claims to talk about Technology (with a capital T) in favor of a much more narrowed focus. The ethics of technology became environmental ethics, biomedical ethics, computer ethics, information ethics, engineering ethics, research ethics, nanoethics, neuroethics, and more. In each of these technological regionalizations there were further micro- issues of risk, safety, privacy, participation, and more. There were some good reasons for this. Some cultural and political criticisms of technology had indeed become exaggerated artifacts of rhetoric, which critics castigated as substantialist or essentialist theories lacking any practical purchase on the real world of engineering and its technologies. Cultural elites and technical experts have struggled with growing gaps between the few and the many, not just in economic terms of the rich versus the poor. The perennial philosophical inclination to return ‘‘back to the things themselves’’ sponsored the birth of case studies and more than one empirical turn (Kroes and Meijers 2000; Achterhuis 2001). Risk benefit analyses were safer than big dangers talk. The frustrating inability to make big changes has probably also been a factor that suggested there might be more hope for small ones—even smaller than those for which a proponent of piecemeal social engineering such as Dewey had argued. And yet big problems remain—and are getting bigger. In the ethics of science, engineering, and technology we must contend with a paradox of the impotence of small efforts. Rationally, we would expect small efforts to be more likely to be effective than big ones, when in fact this is not always the case. Sometimes it is big efforts and big ideas—and not just rhetorical ones, which is what academic philosophers often pursue, in their own efforts to stand out in a crowded academic 123 594 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 marketplace. The paradox echoes an economic cliché: Large corporations easily become mired in small ideas that produce little real innovation. They become focused on branding. Small start-ups regularly replace established corporations, precisely because of their new big ideas. Recall that it was big ideas such as those popularized from Martin Heidegger’s ‘‘The Question Concerning Technology’’ (1954) and Jacques Ellul’s The Techno- logical Society (1954, 1964) or Herbert Marcuse’s One-Dimensional Man (1964) and Lewis Mumford’s The Myth of the Machine (1967/1970) that strengthened protests against nuclear weapons and the Vietnam War. In the ethics and politics complex, more nuanced ideas and arguments are often weak in their consequences; simplistic ideas may sometimes get results. My own argument here is a big one, lacks many nuances, and might well be described as philosophically sloppy. Nevertheless, I would defend it as deserving consideration, especially as we contemplate a future mutation of the human condition involving. • Continuing nuclear proliferations; • Population growth and consumption intensification, which together gobble up resources and flood the planet with consumer goods and wastes; • Progressive biodiversity losses coupled with genetic engineering and the nanoscale design of materials, processes, and products; • Geological scale transformations of the atmosphere, oceans, and landscape; • An infosphere awash in artificial intelligence and big data; and • The emergence of DIY abilities in regard to chemical, biological, and informational weapons — to offer a no more than six random samples. The clock on the cover of the Bulletin of Atomic Scientists now (January 23, 2020) stands at 100 s to midnight, closer than it has been since before the first US- USSR suspension of atmospheric nuclear testing in 1959, in fact closer than at any point since its creation in 1947. The bottleneck of possibility through which we must pass into the future seems only and ever to narrow. In the words of the Bulletin’s press release: Humanity continues to face two simultaneous existential dangers—nuclear war and climate change—that are compounded by a threat multiplier, cyber- enabled information warfare, that undercuts society’s ability to respond. The international security situation is dire, not just because these threats exist, but because world leaders have allowed the international political infrastructure for managing them to erode. And this was before the covid-19 pandemic outbreak. Is it possible that we are not listening to the Kassandra’s among us such as Gunther Anders (1982) and Jean- Pierre Dupuy (2013) out of fear regarding the changes we would be called upon to contemplate? Are we not letting the little fear trump a bigger one? To conclude: The ethics of technology has a big picture historical heritage that deserves to be recognized if not recovered. The ethical stance that in the sixteenth 123 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 595 century sponsored the rise of modern technology did not shy from making bold claims in ways that engaged political power and contributed to world-historical transformations. Such was equally the case in the nineteenth century when industrial technology presented the social order with injustices small and large; classic socialism included an ethics of technology writ large as did mid-20th environmen- talism. Now in the early twenty-first century science, engineering, and technology are bringing forth an unprecedented, multidimensional mutation of the human condition. Faced with an iceberg of issues, we must not let ourselves be accused of being content with rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Given the icy mass below the surface, it may well be that we can do little more than admit frankly that we are in uncharted waters, that catastrophe awaits us. But we should be looking over the edge into the darkness rather than keeping company with the stewards of a fraught if not doomed voyage. Lucidity with regard to our ignorance and its dangers is preferable to averting our eyes. This is the case, no matter what happens. On a ship bound for the abyss, looking into the abyss may still bring some small measure of enlightening consolation from philosophy. If we don’t think big, it will be left to non-philosophers to do so. Philosophers must unite to throw off their chains and reclaim not just their own interests but those of their non-philosopher companions in the terrestrial cosmopolis. References Achterhuis H, (ed) (2001) American philosophy of technology: the empirical turn. Trans. Robert P. Crease. Indiana University Press, Bloomington, IN Anders G (1982) Hiroshima ist überall. Beck, Munich Bacon F (1858) Novum Organum. 1620. English trans. In: Spedding J, Ellis RL, Heath DD (eds) The collected works of francis bacon, vol 4. Longmans, London Carson R (1962) Silent spring. Houghton Mifflin, Boston Dewey J (1927) The public and its problems. Holt, New York Dupuy J-P (2013) The mark of the sacred. Trans. M. B. Debevoise. Stanford University Press, Stanford, CA Ellul J (1954) La Technique ou l’enjeu du siècle. Armand Colin. American version Paris, The Technological Society, trans. John Wilkerson, Random House, New York (1964) Heidegger M (1954) Die Frage nach der Technik. In: Vorträge und Aufsätze, Neske, Pfullingen, pp 13–44 Hayek F (1969) The result of human action but not of human design. In: Studies in philosophy, politics and economics, Routledge, London, pp 69–105 Kroes P, Meijers A (eds) (2000) the empirical turn in the philosophy of technology. research in philosophy and technology, vol 20. Elsevier, Oxford Marcuse H (1964) One-dimensional man. Beacon Press, Boston Mitcham C (2020) Steps toward a philosophy of engineering: historico-philosophical and critical essays. Rowman and Littlefield International, London Moore GE (1903) Principia ethica. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge Mumford L (1967/1970) The myth of the machine, vol. 1: technics and human development; vol. 2: The Pentagon of Power. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. Sprat T (1667) The history of the royal society of London, for the improving of natural knowledge. Royal Society, London Publisher’s Note Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. 123 596 Axiomathes (2020) 30:589–596 The Ethics of Technology: From Thinking Big to Small---and Big Again Abstract References 
work_qomcok57tna2zgwxrkorfku7ru	----	현대패션의 로맨틱 이미지에 관한 연구 Print ISSN 1229-6880 Journal of the Korean Society of Costume Online ISSN 2287-7827 Vol. 63, No. 6 (Sep. 2013) pp. 84-96 http://dx.doi.org/10.7233/jksc.2013.63.6.084 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성 서 승 희⁺․김 영 인 성균관대학교 의상학과 조교수⁺․연세대학교 생활디자인학과 교수 Inherent�Properties�of�Fashion�Accepted�as�Art� through�Expansion� of�Contemporary�Art Seung-Hee�Suh⁺․Young-In�Kim Assistant Professor, Dept. of Fashion Design, Sungkyunkwan University⁺ Professor, Dept. of Human Environment & Design, Yonsei University (투고일: 2013. 4. 26, 심사(수정)일: 2013. 5. 28, 게재확정일: 2013. 6. 30) ABSTRACT1) In researching the ontological status of fashion, a good grasp of fashion can decide the direc- tion of fashion study. Fashion is sometimes considered an area of industry far from art from a point of view of purity of art, in spite of its aesthetic value and expression. However, art proper- ties can be differentiated from the purity of art in modern aesthetics, and fashion properties which were the reason for that fashion to be considered as non-art can be affirmed as the same with properties of contemporary art properties. Therefore, the purpose of this study was to sug- gest the possibility that general properties of fashion can be accepted in the art arena through justifying art properties deviating from the purity of art. It can provide a boost to fashion’s cul- tural status. For the research method, a literature review and case analysis were carried out through specialty publications related to art history, aesthetics, and fashion, regular publications and websites specializing in fashion, and art museums. Through the research, art properties de- viated from the purity of art, which are; tactile sense, impermanence, dailiness, and commercial viability, were justified as being the same as fashion properties. These art properties were not general properties of fine art in modern aesthetics, but the ones occurring in contemporary arts. These properties, now present in contemporary art, can no longer disqualify fashion as a non-art. Key words: art(예술), commercial viability(상업성), dailiness(일상성), fashion(패션), impermanence(일시성), tactile synesthesia(촉각적 공감각성) Corresponding: Seung-Hee Suh, e-mail: shsuh@skku.edu 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 85 - Ⅰ. 서론 패션의 존재론적 위치를 탐구함에 있어 패션의 영 역에 대한 이해는 패션 연구의 방향을 결정한다. 패 션과의 협업을 통해 예술적 가치를 얻고자 하는 다 양한 분야에서의 협업 작업에는 패션에 대한 경제적 가치는 물론 예술적 가치를 인정하는 인식이 깔려있 는데, 이는 패션이 예술적 가치와 표현을 가지고 있 으며 예술로서의 지위를 인정받고 있다고 볼 수 있 는 것이다. 그러나 예술의 순수성을 지향하는 관점에 서의 패션은 여전히 예술과는 거리가 있는 산업의 분야일 뿐이다. 이에 예술의 순수성에 대한 관점은 근대예술의 개념으로 예술을 바라보는 시각이며, 오 늘날의 예술을 근대예술 개념을 잣대로 논하는 것은 문제가 있다. 예술을 탐구하는 철학계의 입장은 패션을 예술로 서 받아들이는 데에 부정적인 편이다. 그 근간에는 근대철학의 핵심에 있는 임마누엘 칸트(Immanuel Kant, 1724-1804)의 미적 판단1)이 있으며 전통적인 철학적 원리에 따라 미학적 개념은 공예와는 구별되 는 순수예술에만 적용된다고 보는 관점이 지배적이 었다. 따라서 입혀진다는 기능성과 산업적인 구조 속 에 상업적인 목적으로 창작되는 패션은, 기능적 목적 성을 가지지 않은 미적 대상의 창작을 예술의 본질 로 본 근대미학의 견해에 따라, 철학적인 예술의 연 구대상으로 간주되지 못하였다. 그러나 1980년대 이 후로 미술관에서 이루어진 다양한 패션전시로 인해 예술적 실험과 접근이 패션에서 나타나고 또한 패션 과 예술에 대한 담론이 형성되면서, 예술로서의 패션 에 대한 논쟁 또한 과거와는 달리 점점 수용의 입장 으로 진행되고 있다. 이러한 관점에서 지금까지 이루어진 예술과 관련 된 패션에 관한 선행연구는 예술작품의 분석적 방법 론을 패션에 적용하여 패션의 조형적 특성을 예술사 조와 연결함으로써 예술로서의 패션을 입증하고자 하는 연구2), 예술사의 미학적 계보를 통한 패션의 예술계에서의 위치를 분석하는 연구3) 혹은 아방가르 드 패션디자이너들의 작품 분석을 통해 패션의 예술 성을 분석한 연구4)들이 있다. 이들 연구의 선행적 인식은 패션이 칸트주의자들이 말하는 예술 그 자체 의 목적으로 무관심적 관조의 대상이 될 수 있다는 관점이 깔려있으며 시각적 예술로서의 패션을 전제 로 함으로써, 패션의 예술적 표현에 있어 패션의 살 아있는 경험인 실용성, 일상성, 기능성의 측면은 배 제되어 있다. 이렇게 패션의 본질적인 속성을 배제하 면서까지 예술로서의 편입을 주장하는 것은 패션의 창조적 상상력을 통한 미적 추구를 패션의 최고의 가치로 보고 있기 때문이다.5) 이 연구에서는 근대적 미학의 개념으로 예술을 분 석하는 틀을 패션에 적용하는 관점의 한계를 극복하 고, 패션의 미적 경험을 전제로 한 패션의 주요 속성 을 중심으로 예술로서의 패션을 논하고자 하였다. 이 를 위해 먼저 현대예술의 사례를 통해 근대미학의 예술의 순수성에서 벗어난 예술의 속성들을 논함으 로써 패션의 예술적 지위에 제기된 예술의 순수성의 문제가 타당한 논리를 벗어났음을 제기하였다. 이때 분석된 현대예술의 속성은 모든 예술에 적용되는 보 편적인 속성이라기보다는 현대미학에서 새로이 대두 된 예술의 속성을 중심으로 하였다. 즉, 현대예술에 서도 확인되는 전통적인 예술의 속성은 배제하고 확 장된 현대예술의 속성을 중심으로 논하였다. 이러한 논의로 비예술로 인지되었던 패션의 속성 이 현대예술에서도 확인되는 동일한 속성임을 규명 함으로써 패션의 본질적인 속성이 예술의 영역으로 수용될 수 있음을 제시하는 데 연구의 목적이 있다. 이를 통해 패션의 예술로서의 문화적 위치와 사회적 가치 향상을 높이는데 연구의 의의가 있다. 연구방법으로는 예술사, 미학, 패션관련 전문서적 과 미술전문 정기 간행물인 월간미술을 통한 문헌연 구, 그리고 예술전문 웹사이트, 사치 갤러리(Saatchi gallery) 등의 공신력 있는 미술관 사이트의 사례조 사를 통한 내용분석으로 진행되었다. 월간미술은 국 내 미술관련 최고 부수와 인지도를 가지고 있는 미 술 전문지이며, 미술관 사이트는 미술관에 전시된 작 품 또는 아카이브를 다루기에 공인된 예술작품을 분 석하는 데 유용한 자료로 사용되었다. 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 86 - Ⅱ. 근대미학에서의 예술의 순수성 르네상스의 인본주의와 종교 개혁, 근대 자본주의 발달, 시민사회 형성을 통한 근대 유럽의 계몽주의 시대로의 도래는 예술 또한 합리적 사고로 분석하고 자 하는 시도를 하게 하였다. 예술의 개념이 고전적 예술의 기능성이라는 고대의 틀에서 벗어나 근대적 예술체계(Fine Art System)를 성립시킨 샤를르 바 퇴(Charles Batteux, 1713-1780)에 의해서 비로소 순 수 예술을 시, 음악, 회화, 조각, 무용, 건축6)으로구 분하고이들이미를추구한다는하나의원리로묶을수있다 는논리로예술을정의하였다. ‘beaux-arts’라는 용어로 예술에 대한 개념을 정립한 샤를르 바퇴는 예술이 예술가의 관찰을 통해 자연 속에서 가장 아름다운 특징들의 모방으로 이루어지며 정신과 자연의 협조 속에 이상화된 자연이 예술이라고 보았다. 아리스토 텔레스의 예술의 모방론과 관련된 그의 주장에는 시 각과 청각에 호소하는 문예를 예술 중 가장 우월한 위치에 두었으며 무용과 음악은 감정의 모방이라는 관점에서 예술로 취급하였다.7) 주관의 능동적 합리성에 대한 확신을 바탕으로 미 적 경험과 예술에도 시대의 합리성이 실현 가능하다 는 신뢰로 학문적 자립성을 획득하며8) 예술을 대상 으로 한 철학적 분과로서 서구인의 근대적 사고의 소산인 미학이 생겨났다. 근대 미학은 18 세기 중엽 본격적으로 미의 문제를 다루게 되면서 미적 경험과 예술을 인문적 철학적 연구 대상으로 삼아오고 있다. 독일 철학자 바움가르텐(Alexander Baumgarten, 1714- 1762)에 의해 처음 학문으로 등장하였는데, 미를 사 유의 대상에서 감정의 대상으로 옮겨 놓는 인식론적 전환과 순수한 이성적 관념에서 현실적 실존으로의 존 재론적 전환을 통해 예술에 대한 학문이 가능했다.9) 근대 계몽주의의 합리주의 정신은 진, 선, 미의 가 치를 분리하여 구별함으로써 미라는 가치를 추구하 는 예술이 철학이나 과학, 도덕적 행동과는 구별되는 특수한 활동으로서 미와 예술 양자가 하나의 자율적 경험영역을 이루게 되었다.10) 도덕과 분리된 예술이 외설의 논란을 일으키는 경우가 생기는 것도 이 때 문이다. 칸트의 정의에 따르면, 미적 판단은 감각적 쾌감 또는 도덕성과 관련된 외적인 욕망과 충동으로 부터 때 묻지 않은, 형태의 무관심적 관조를 포함하고 있다. ‘감각에 대한 판단’은 그것의 유용성(utility)의 관점에서 대상을 평가하고, ‘선에 대한 판단’은 완벽 에 대한 도덕적 이상과 부합되는지의 정도에 달려있 는 반면, ‘미적 판단’은 대상의 미를 그 자체의 목적 으로 평가하는 것이다.11) 미적 판단은 자극과 감동에 의존하지 않고 객관적 합목적성에 근거하는 대상의 유용성과 완전성에 의존하지 않으며 목적개념의 표 상을 떠나 지각되는 대상의 합목적성의 형식이다.12) 이때 정립된 예술은 오늘날 지칭되는 ‘순수 예술’의 개념으로서, 그리스시대의 예술과 기술의 통합적인 의미와는 확실히 분리되어, 예술의 대상이 실용적, 실제적, 도덕적, 종교적 효과와 구분된 고상하고 관 조적인 즐거움으로 한정한 예술의 개념으로 정착되 었다. 이러한 예술의 순수성은 낭만주의시대의 ‘예술을 위한 예술’로 최고의 지위를 확립하는데, 실제 세계 에서의 어떠한 용도나 도구로서의 역할을 거부하고 감상자로 하여금 초연한 순수한 지각으로만 관조할 것을 주장하며13) 예술의 신비로움과 예술가의 신성 화를 이끌었다. 인간의 사고의 불확실성에 절망하여 무의식적 움직임에서 아름다움을 찾는, 즉 예술의 무 의식적 순수성을 존중하는 경향으로 나타난 것이다. 예술의 순수성 개념은 예술과 일상의 분리를 비판 하며 나타난 20세기 아방가르드 예술에 의해 변화를 겪게 되는데, 아방가르드가 제시한 예술의 탈신비화 와 예술을 통한 창조적 삶으로의 모색은 오늘날 변 화한 현대예술의 개념과 영역의 확장을 낳았다.14) Ⅲ. 예술의 순수성을 벗어난 현대예술의 속성 근대예술의 순수성 개념은 20세기에 들어서면서 현대예술의 특성으로 변화를 가져왔는데, 현실과 분 리되었던 예술은 근대예술의 개념에서 찾을 수 없었 던 현실 속의 예술로 확장되면서 과거와는 다른 형 태의 예술로 나타났다. 또한 현대예술은 예술 작품 자체의 표현이나 미적 평가가 아닌, 비평가와 화랑이 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 87 - 라는 작품 외적인 요소인 예술제도에 의해 인정되어 야 그 존재가 가능해졌으며, 오늘날 보편적인 현대예 술의 특성과 형식을 정의하는 것 또한 불가능해졌다. 따라서 이 연구에서는 새로운 형식과 의미로 대두된 예술 작품을 중심으로, 전통적인 예술의 개념에서 벗 어난 현대예술의 속성을 촉각적 감각성, 일시성, 일 상성, 상업성으로 분석하였다. 이들 속성은 근대미학 에서 예술과 구분된 실용적, 실제적, 도덕적, 종교적 속성 중 오늘날 현대예술에서 수용되어 나타난 실용 성과 실제성이 적용된 속성들이다. 본 연구에서는 각 각의 예술 작품이 가진 다중적 속성 중 우선적으로 표출되는 속성의 영역으로 구분하였는데, 예컨대 몸 예술은 촉각적 감각성과 일상성, 그리고 일시성이라 는 다중적인 속성을 표출하기도 하나 작품비평에 있 어 부각되는 속성을 중심으로 분류하였다. 1. 촉각적 공감각성 근대미학의 핵심에 자리한 칸트는 감각적인 쾌감 이 육체적인 요구에 대한 만족과 관계한다면, 미적 평가는 육체적 감각적 쾌락보다는 좀 더 거리가 있 는 쾌감의 형태를 포함하고 있는 것15) 이라고 보았 다. 특히 육체적 감각 중 시각과 청각은 예외적으로 특권을 부여 받은 반면 촉각, 미각, 그리고 후각은 육체적 욕망과 감각적 쾌감의 주요 기관으로 분류되 었다. 미학을 감각적 인식에 대한 새로운 철학적 학 문으로 만든 바움가르텐 역시 본질상 몸을 감각의 낮은 인식능력과 동일시하고 그러한 능력들의 인식 형태를 미학의 대상으로 보았다.16) 이러한 사고는 지 속적으로 수용되어, 19세기 후반에 조지 산타야나 (George Santayana) 역시 “미적 쾌락의 고귀함과 범 위”는 육체로부터의 분리에서 기인해야 한다고 주장 하며, 육체적 쾌감과 미에 대한 본질적인 쾌감은 대 립된다고 보았다.17) 철학적 미학의 전통에서 육체적 욕망과 쾌락이 숨 겨진 영역으로서의 미학을 구분하기 위한 관심은 되 풀이 되는 주제이다. 쇼펜하우어(Arthur Schopen- hauer, 1799-1860)에게 있어, 예술의 가치는 형이상 학적 실체에 대한 통찰을 통해 끊임없는 육체의 요 구를 초월하는 능력에 있다. 예술의 주목적은 그것의 특수성, 끊임없는 변화의 상태에서가 아니라 관념적인 감성에서의 이데아 세계의 현존에 있다고 보았다.18) 그러나 오늘날 변화된 예술의 개념과 표현매체의 변화는 예술에서의 관객과 작품의 관계에 대한 감각 적 영역 또한 변화를 가져왔는데, 프랑수아 플뤼샤르 는 1970년대에 선언문을 통해 신체예술은 고유한 예 술적 방법에 속하는 것으로 가정되는 과거의 미학적, 도덕적 가치 전체를 거부하고 뒤집는다고 하였다.19) 전통적으로 이차원적이고 시지각적인 감각 기관에 의지하던 예술의 감상은 테크놀로지의 발달과 이를 예술의 표현 매체로 적용한 테크놀로지 아트를 비롯 해 표현매체의 다변화는 인간의 몸 자체에까지 확장 되었으며, 이를 통해 시각, 청각, 촉각 등의 공감각적 체험이 가능해졌고 이는 복합지각이 예술현장에서 경험되고 있음을 알 수 있다.20) 더욱 직접적으로 빅토린 뮐러(Victorine Müller)의 Skinnings, 레베카 혼(Rebecca Horn, 1944- )의 유연 한 어깨 봉으로 감각의 보철 연장, 또는 바네사 비크 로포트(Vanessa Beecroft, 1969- )의 몸과 피부의 디 스플레이는 최근 사례의 퍼포먼스 아트이다.21) 특히 뮐러는 자신과 매체와의 관계를 탐구하는 퍼포먼스 와 부풀리는 조각적 설치미술로 확장해 나가고 있으 며,<그림 1>22) 혼은 인간의 몸에 오브제와 설치물을 부착하여 몸을 확장함으로써 인간과 환경 사이의 접 촉을 주제로 바디 조각물(body sculpture) 작업을23), <그림 2>24) 비크로포트는 개념적 이슈와 미적 관심 을 복합적으로 하여 주로 누드의 여성모델을 내세운 대규모의 퍼포먼스 아트를 선보이고 있다.25)<그림 3>26) 이들 작품은 몸을 매개로 표현하는 촉각적 감 각적인 예술이며 따라서 현대예술의 매체 변화가 가 져온 예술의 감각적 영역의 확대는 촉각적 감각이 예술의 영역에서 배제된 패션의 요소로 작용할 근거 를 없애 버렸다. 한편 테크놀로지 아트가 가지는 가상현실성은 공 간적으로 떨어져있는 장소나 가상의 장소를 신체적 으로 경험하는 것이 가능해졌으며 인간의 감각이 신 체의 한계를 넘어 확대되는 원격현전(telepresence)을 체험할 수 있다. 따라서 이미지 대상의 관조가 촉각 적 체험과 청각적 체험을 동반한 촉감각적 영역으로 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 88 - <그림 1> Victorine Müller, Lemomentvegetative, 2007 - http://highlike.org <그림 2> Rebecca Horn, The Feathered Prison Fan (as it appears in the film Der Eintänzer), 1978 - History of Modern Art, 2003, p. 598 <그림 3> Vanessa Beecroft, VB61, Still Death! Darfur Still Deaf? (at the 52nd Venice Biennale), 2007 - http://en.wikipedia.org <그림 4> Jannis Kounellis, Untitled, 1969 - http://trendland.com <그림 5> Christo Javacheff & Jeanne-Claude, Running Fence, 1976 - http://christojeanneclaude.net <그림 6> Joseph Beuys, I Like America and America Likes Me, 1974 - http://www.e-flux.com 확장된 새로운 예술의 개념을 정립하는데 기여하였 다고 볼 수 있다.27) 2. 일시성 벤야민은 <기술복제 시대의 예술작품>에서 기술적 혁신이 예술의 모든 기술을 변화시키고 이를 통해 예술 개념이 변화했다는 착상에서 전통예술과 현대 예술을 구분하였으며, 대중의 수용이 가능해진 현대 예술작품에서 일시성과 반복성을 읽어낼 수 있다고 하였다.28) 기술 복제로 만들어진 예술작품에서 더 이 상의 아우라(aura)를 찾을 수 없는 시대가 도래한 것이다. 전통적인 예술의 개념에서 예술 작품이 가지는 영 원성은 정신세계를 지향하는 예술의 가치를 의미하 며 예술사를 통해 예술작품은 영원히 존재하는 산물 로 인식되어 왔다. 그러나 현대예술에서 추구되는 아 방가르드의 시도를 통해 해프닝이나 퍼포먼스 아트, 프로세스 아트29), 대지예술(Earth Art)30), 설치미술, 아르떼 포베라, 플럭서스 등에서 설치와 행위에 따른 일시성을 확인할 수 있는데, 예술의 영구성에 대한 의미의 도전과 시간성을 가진 예술의 또 다른 개념 을 제시하고 있다. <그림 4>31)의 살아있는 말 열두 마리를 전시하기 도 한 아르떼 포베라 예술가 야니스 쿠넬리스(Jannis Kounellis), 캘리포니아 해변을 따라 친 5.5m 높이와 40km 길이의 거대한 철재 울타리에 나일론 천을 씌 워 바람에 날려가기 전까지 14일간 존재했던 <그림 5>32)의 작품 “달리는 울타리”의 대지 예술가 크리스 토(Christo Javacheff)와 잔느 클로드(Jeanne-Claude), 그리고 <그림 6>33)의 “나는 미국을 사랑하고 미국은 나를 사랑한다”라는 며칠간의 퍼포먼스를 보여준 플 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 89 - <그림 7> Gilbert & George, Singing Sculpture, 1991 - http://www.walkerart.org <그림 8> Tracy Emin, My Bed, 1998 - http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk 럭서스 예술가 요셉 보이스(Joseph Beuys) 등 이들 예술가들에게 있어 예술의 영원성은 고려의 가치가 아니었다. 예술제도 속에 부여되는 영원한 예술의 가 치는 이제 도전하고 넘어서고자 하는 예술개념의 하 나이며 일시성을 가진 이들 예술의 형식은 현대예술 의 새로운 표현법이다. 전통예술이 가졌던 영구성의 붕괴는 이제 확장된 현대예술에서 일시성의 특성으 로 보여지고 있다. 3. 일상성 개체의 생활이 유지나 인류의 재생산에 향한 인간 생활의 지속적 반복적인 존재방식34)을 말하는 일상 성은 본질적인 인간의 존재조건이 되는데, 근대예술 의 신격화와 순수성의 개념에서 예술의 존재적 조건 과는 분리되어 인식되어왔다. 그러나 예술의 일상으 로의 분리는 윌리엄 모리스(William Morris, 1834- 1896), 칼 마르크스(Karl Heinrich Marx, 1818-1883), 랄프 왈도 에머슨(Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1803- 1882), 그리고 윌리엄 워즈워스(William Wordsworth, 1770-1850) 등에 의해서 비판 받게 되는데, 이들은 예술의 특권을 벗어나 일상과 예술의 통합을 주장하 였다. 에머슨은 예술이 사회적 기능을 담당하지 않고 눈을 즐겁게 하는 단순한 장식이 되었다고 비판하였 으며 모리스 역시 예술을 통한 이상적인 사회 구현 을 꿈꾸었다.35) 예술과 일상의 통합에 대한 이들의 주장은 현대에 들어와, 전통적으로 이해되는 예술의 개념인 형태에 대한 무관심적 관조로서의 ‘미’의 좁은 개념을 넘어 일상에서의 ‘미적 경험’과 연관된 즐거움을 포함하는 방향으로 나아간36) 존 듀이(John Dewey, 1859-1952) 의 관점이나, 예술의 역량을 새롭게 하고 전통을 넘 어 순수예술을 구분하는 현대적 범위를 찾기 위해서 는 미적 경험과 가치의 확장된 인식이 필요하다는37) 슈스터만(Richard Schusterman, 1949- )의 견해로 이어졌다. 일상경험의 영역을 예술에서 완전히 분리 한 칸트주의자들의 개념에 반하여, 예술의 일상성에 주목한 듀이는 ‘미적 반응은 일상생활에서 이미 존재 하는 감정을 강화하고 크게 통합하여 이어가는 것’이 며 이런 경험의 방식은 전통적으로 정의된 순수예술 의 영역 안에서만 나타나는 것이 아니라 조화로운 통일성이 인지될 수 있는 거의 모든 현상을 포함하 여 확장하는 것이라고 보았다.38) 슈스터만 역시 고급 예술이 지닌 고립된 난해성과 절대화된 주장들에 비 판적일 뿐만 아니라 고급예술의 산물들과 대중문화 의 산물들 사이에 놓인 어떠한 본질적인 구분도 의 심하며, 다양한 예술들이 수용되는 다양한 형식에 대 한 구체적인 분석을 시도하였다. 삶이 예술의 내용을 형성하고 나아가 “삶의 예술” 속에서 삶 자체를 예술 적으로 구성하며 따라서 대상이자 경험으로서의 예술 작품은 우리의 삶 속에서 기능한다고 주장하였다.39) 이들의 주장이 실천된 사례로는 현대예술의 아방 가르드한 방법론 중 대표적으로 콜라주를 비롯한 오 브제의 예술적 표현수단으로의 등장이 있다. 올덴버 그(Claes Oldenburg, 1929- )나 페르난데즈(Armand Fernandez, 1928-2005)의 오브제(objee), 라우센버그 (Robert Rauschenberg, 1925-2008)의 컴바인 페인팅 (combine painting), 슈비터스(Kurt Schwitters, 1887- 1948)나 피카소(Pablo Picasso, 1881-1973)의 아상블 라주(assemblage)와 콜라주(collage) 등 아방가르드 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 90 - 예술이 채택한 일상은 현대예술에서 예술과 삶의 동 일선상에서 다뤄짐으로써 삶과 괴리된 무목적성의 예술의 순수성을 위배하여 왔다. 또한 작가 자신이 조각이 되어버림으로써 일상과 예술, 작가와 작품 사 이의 구분을 없애버리는, 즉 작가의 분신을 작업화 한 <그림 7>40)의 길버트와 조지(Gilbert & Georg e)41)나 작가 자신의 사생활과 일상을 내면의 충동과 치유로써 여과 없이 작품의 소재로 사용한 <그림 8>42)의 트레이시 에민(Tracy Emin) 등 컨템포러리 예술에서 작가의 일상이나 사회현상의 결과물은 작 품의 주요 소재로 작품 안으로 들어와 있다. 4. 상업성 현대예술은 단지 예술가에 의해 정의되고 표현되 는 것이 아니라 제도예술 속에서의 예술적 가치 평 가는 물론 관객과의 소통을 통한 예술로서의 인정이 필요하다. 소통을 거부하는 예술은 자기만족적 나르 시시즘에 불과한 것이다. 따라서 예술과 관객의 소통 은 대중에 대한 경제적 상업성의 가능성을 가지고 있으며, 예술제작의 목표가 되지는 않더라도 최소한 관객과의 소통으로 인한 상업성을 간과할 수는 없 다.43) 도널드 저드(Donald Judd, 1928-1994)나 프란 시스 베이컨(Francis Bacon, 1909-1992)처럼 예술과 디자인의 경계를 명확히 구분함으로써 자신의 작품 영역을 예술로 선언하는 대다수 예술가들의 경우와 대조적으로 워홀(Andy Wahol, 1928-1987)은 대중문 화를 탐색함으로써 상업적 이미지를 물신화하고 예 술이 인식되는 방식을 변화시키는 급진적인 시도를 함으로서 디자인이라는 주제를 다른 지위로 규정하 고44) 현대예술의 성격을 재규명 하였다. 이미 산업적, 사회적인 예술 외적인 문제가 제작 의 기술적 접근 방법이나 관객의 수용, 예술 자체의 존재방식에 관계하여 새로운 아방가르드 예술의 형 식과 표현에 직접적인 영향을 미쳤으며, 이로서 등장 한 많은 예술 장르의 상업성이 새삼 논쟁의 대상이 되지는 못한다. 뉴욕의 거대 미술관들은 디자인 관련 작품 또는 상품전시를 열고, 팝아트 작가들은 올덴버 그와 같이 상점을 운영하거나 앤디 워홀처럼 상업적 회사를 차리고 혹은 키스 헤링(Keith Haring, 1958- 1990)처럼 자신의 작품을 이용한 대중적이고 디자인 적인 작품을 전시하기도 하였다. 이제 21세기에 들어 이런 예술의 상업적인 성격은 더욱 확대되어 쿠사마 야요이나 제프 쿤스, 리처드 프린스, 다카시 무라카 미, 요시모토 나라 등은 디자인 제품제작에 직접 참 여하거나 그들의 작품이 상품에 사용되고 있다.45) 일 례로 무라카미는 자신의 스튜디오로 Kaikai Kiki Co. Ltd.라는 회사를 설립하고 일본 애니메이션에서 영 향을 받은 각종 이미지와 일본 오타쿠(Otaku) 문 화를 이용하여 자신이 제작한 고가의 작품을 일반인 도 구입할 수 있는 가격으로 상품화해 자신이 저작 권을 소유하고 시장을 관리하는 미술계의 디즈니랜 드를 만들어가고 있다. 이러한 무라카미의 스튜디오 는 70여명의 작가와 애니메이션 제작자를 고용한 중 소기업의 수준이다. 또한 젊은 작가들이 상업 갤러리 에 전속되는가 하면 온라인을 통해 자신의 작품이나 판화 심지어 옷과 가방을 디자인해 웹을 통해 판매하 고 있다.46) 오늘날 파격적인 개념적 시도를 통해 현대 예술을 이끌어 나가고 있는 데미안 허스트(Damien Hirst)는 ‘다른 규범(Other Criteria)’이라는 온라인 매장을 운영하며 자신의 작품은 물론 다른 예술가들 의 작품과 함께 티셔츠, 포스터, 책 등의 아트상품을 판매하고 있다.<그림 9>47) 아비게일 레인(Abigale Lane)도 온라인 셀렉트숍 매치스 패션(Matches Fashion)을 통해 빅토리아시대 이후의 스커트를 주 제로 한 티셔츠, 쿠션, 탁자 등과 그녀의 작품들을 판 매하고 있는데, 2003 년도에는 직접 설립한 ‘Show- room Dummies’라는 디자인 회사를 통해 백화점 디 스플레이, 패션쇼 등의 작업뿐 아니라 <그림 10>48)의 웹사이트에서 티셔츠, 엽서 등의 소품을 직접 제작, 판매하고 있다.49) 상품성으로 포장된 미술품은 유일 성을 깨고, 고급과 저급 사이에서 새로운 상업예술의 팝아트를 형성하고 있다. “미학적인 것과 공리적인 것들이 상업적인 것으로 포섭되고 모든 것이 디자인의 대상으로 간주되는 오 늘, 미술이 디자인의 영향에서 자유로울 수 없다”는 할 포스터의 말처럼, 예술과 자본이 문화산업 안에서 하나로 뭉쳐지고, 자본주의가 세상의 모든 사물을 교 환가치의 소모품으로 바꾸고 있다. 미술이 산업적 흐 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 91 - <그림 9> Damien Hirst, Other Criteria - http://www.othercriteria.com <그림 10> Abigale Lane, Showroom Dummies - http://www.abigaillane.co.uk 름 안에 자발적으로 섞이면서, 미술만의 독자성을 상 실하고 있는 것이다.50) 자본주의 사회로의 예술 외적 인 환경의 변화가 이끈 예술과 대중문화의 공존, 그 리고 아방가르드 예술이 보여준 또 다른 예술의 형 식을 통해 이제 예술의 상업성 또한 전통적인 예술 의 개념을 변화시켰다. 그럼에도 불구하고 변화를 직 시하지 않고 상업성과 적정 거리를 두고자 하는 예 술계의 제스츄어는 예술의 편협한 오만함이거나 혹 은 예술의 권위와 순수성을 내세운 전략적 가치창출 행위로 읽혀질 수 있다.51) Ⅳ. 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성 대중예술에 대한 부당한 비판은 인간의 미적 만족 을 보호한다는 기치 아래 실상은 금욕적 거부의 한 형태일 뿐이라는 슈스터만52)의 주장처럼, 패션에 대 한 예술과의 경계적 잣대에 대해서, 앞에서 언급한 현대예술의 확장된 속성을 공유하는 패션의 속성을 규명함으로써 예술로 수용된 패션에 대해 논하고자 하였다. 즉, 패션의 ‘미적 경험’적 속성인 촉각적 감 각성, 일시성, 일상성, 상업성은 확장된 현대예술의 속성으로 제시되었으며 이들 패션의 속성들이 예술 로 수용될 수 있음을 규명하였다. 1. 촉각적 공감각성 오랫동안 형이상학적이고 관념적인 예술에 대한 관점의 지속 속에 패션은 예술의 영역에서 계속 배 제될 수밖에 없었다. 영원성을 보장하지 못하는 육체 의 존재가치, 그리고 형이상학적인 정신과 분리된 육 체의 의미는 영원불변한 형이상학적인 예술의 위치 와는 구별될 수밖에 없는 것 이었다.53) 따라서 패션 표현의 매개가 되는 몸과의 긴밀한 관계 속에 있는 패션의 필연적인 촉각적 특성(Tactile nature)은 육 체적 감각적 쾌감을 배제하는 근대미학의 미적 평가 에 의해 예술과는 다른 차원의 영역으로 구분되었다. 즉, 착장에 의해 표현되는 패션의 표현수단인 몸이 가진 육체적 감각, 즉 패션의 촉각적 공감각성이 패 션을 예술의 영역에서 배제한 명확한 이유 중 하나 인 것이다. 이러한 인식은 패션에서도 여과 없이 받아들여진 듯, 패션을 예술적인 관점에서 접근하고자 하는 패션 계의 흐름은 패션을 몸의 형태와는 상대적으로 자유 롭게 디스플레이함으로서 몸과의 관련성을 무시하는 미술관에서의 패션전시로 강화되고 있고, 지극히 형 이상학적이고 미학적인 관점으로 패션을 바라보는 경향이 이어졌다. 근대미학의 형이상학적 우월성이 여전히 반영된 사고에 따른 결과라고 볼 수 있다. 호르크하이머와 아도르노는 <변증법적 계몽주의> 에서 몸은 내적으로 살아있는 정신에 대조하여 볼 때 단지 물리적인 사물을 재현적으로 표면화한 것에 불과하다고 하였다. 몸의 미학은 자본주의적인 광고 와 정치적인 억압의 도구일 뿐이며 적절하게 도구화 되고 매력적인 표준화된 몸의 치수와 모델에 순응하 도록 강제하는 비자율적인 것으로 보았다. 그러나 포 스트모더니즘의 다원주의적 사고의 미학에서의 확장 은 미적 자각과 경험에 있어서 몸의 역할에 보다 체 계적인 주의를 기울이게 하였다.54) 철학적 사고는 단 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 92 - 순히 개념적인 사고에 의해서는 불가능하며 살아있 는 경험의 장으로서의 몸을 통한 감각적 인지와 깨 달음으로 함께 도달할 수 있게 한다는 동양적인 사 고가 힘을 얻을 수 있는 오늘날의 유연한 시대가 된 것이다. 몸과 패션은 서로에게 영향을 주고 미치는, 즉 상 호 대화가 이루어지는 장이며, 개별적 의상에 있어 표현의 매개인 몸은 패션이 담고 있는 형이상학적 철학적 의미만큼이나 고려되어야 할 요소이다. 패션 에 내재된 몸의 의미는 감각적인 쾌락으로 예술의 영역에서 배제될 요소가 아니라 폭넓은 미적 경험의 하나인 육체적 감각을 포함하는 열린 개념으로 인식 되어야 한다. 따라서 패션에 내재된 감각적 의미는 물론 몸의 형태를 반영한 패션 전시를 통해 충분히 패션의 예술적 표현이 가능하다고 본다. 2. 일시성 패션이라는 개념에는 시대성과 유행성을 가진 시 간의 개념이 내포되어 있는데, 의복(clothing)이 행태 를 갖춘 생산물을 의미한다면 패션은 시간에 대한 관습이나 취향과 같은 사회적 성격을 가진 시간성의 의미가 있다. 패션에서는 경제적 관념에 의해 진행되 는 계절에 따른 리뉴얼과 새로운 이미지, 소비자에 의해 받아들여진 리뉴얼에 따른 변화, 즉 사회 안에 서의 소통을 통한 협상의 결과로 동반되는 변화가 있다. 끊임없는 패션의 변화는 사회 내에서의 재협상 과 창조에 대한 수용으로 지속되는 현상으로, 따라서 대중문화사회에서 패션이 유행을 통한 사회 내에서 의 소통을 근거로 사회적인 효력을 발휘할 때 패션 으로 정의된다. 또한 매스 미디어 시스템의 진화로 패션의 민주화가 가능해졌으며 사회적 규제와 정보 의 분배 속에 패션은 수용자의 존재를 우선시 하게 되었다. 즉 패션은 사회적인 수용에 따른 유행이라는 파급력을 얻을 때 가능하며 의복과 구분되는 패션의 개념이다. 그러나 오늘날 의상과 패션은 명확한 구분 없이 모호하게 사용되고 있으며 특히 포스트모더니즘시대 이후 유행의 정도에 상관없이 몸을 치장하는 액세서 리와 의복, 장신구들을 아울러 패션으로 정의하고 있 다. 사회적인 수용의 정도를 측정하기 불가능하며 다 양한 창작의 결과물을 유행이라는 요소 하나로 결정 짓기에는 복합적인 요소들이 패션을 가늠하는데 작 용하기 때문이다. 예를 들어 스키아빠렐리의 초현실 적인 작품은 시대의 대중성을 획득하기 힘든 아방가 르드한 실험을 보여주었으며 사회적 수용의 효력을 발휘하지는 못했지만 의미 있는 패션작품으로 패션 사에 기록되고 있다. 또한 컬렉션을 통한 패션작품 발표는 직접적인 대중의 수용으로 연결되기에는 매 스 패션으로의 적용에까지 시간이 필요하며 이런 시 스템 적용에 실패한 작품도 다수 존재한다. 시즌마다 새로운 패션은 마켓에서의 경쟁에서 받아들여지기도 외면 받기도 하는 시스템의 과정을 필연적으로 거치 며, 그렇다 하더라도 같은 창작과정과 시스템 속에 발표된 작품들이 소통의 결과로 패션과 의복으로 정 확히 이분화시킬 수 있는 명분도 확실하지 않다.55) 물론 유행의 요소가 패션의 변화를 이끄는 주요 요소로 작용하기에 패션의 유행성과, 변화라는 시간 성을 가진 패션의 일시성은 같은 맥락에서 이해할 수도 있다. 그러나 나아가 유행의 정도에 따라 패션 과 의복을 구분하는 것이 아닌 변화라는 의미가 우 선적으로 중요한 패션의 속성이라고 할 수 있다. 결 과적으로 패션은 사회적 효력에 따라 결정되기에 다 변적, 다층적이며 불연속적인 특성을 드러내며, 이러 한 패션의 사회적인 한계는 계속적인 재협상과 끊임 없는 변화를 이끌어 궁극적으로 혁신적인 창조와 패 션의 발전을 가져온다.56) 또한 계절과 기후의 변화에 따른 시간적 제한성은 패션을 필연적으로 변화를 이 끄는 요소이기도 하다. 때문에 예술비평가 부드로(Michael Boodro)는 예 술의 영원성에 반하는 패션의 일시성으로 인해 패션 은 예술과 유사한 관련성을 가지고 있음에도 불구하 고 예술과는 구분될 수밖에 없다고 보았다. 또한 지 금의 자본주의 산업사회에서 소장과 투자의 가치가 예술의 가치 척도라고 보는 관점에서 일시성을 가진 패션의 시간성은 사용하고 폐기되는 무가치한 것이 라는 의미로 해석되기도 한다.57) 이에 대한 반론으로, 패션이 시간성과 상업적 전 략을 반영한 트렌드라는 흐름 속에서 창작되는 속성 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 93 - 을 가지고 있으며 그 속성은 영원성을 상실한 무가 치의 특성이라기보다는 오늘날 예술계가 지향하는 새로움과 혁신, 끊임없는 변화라는 신화를 이어가는 창조적 작업의 속성으로 이해할 수 있다. 따라서 현 대예술의 일시성과 마찬가지로 패션이 가진 변화라 는 속성으로 인한 일시성은 더 이상 예술로서의 가 치 논쟁의 주제가 되지는 못한다. 3. 일상성 패션은 인간의 의식주의 하나로 출발한 의상에 사 회적 수용과 트렌드라는 변화의 의미를 더하여 패션 의 영역을 확보하였기에 보편적으로 인간의 일상생 활의 필수적 도구로서 일상성의 속성을 가지고 있다. 브릴랜드(Diana Vreeland)58)는 패션이 일용성의 성 격을 가지고 있는 실용품이기에 패션은 예술일 수 없다고 보았다. 패션이 공예품과 같이 인간의 일상생활의 필요에 의해 만들어지는 결과물이 예술일 순 없다는 주장은 예술이 정신적 이상적 가치를 가진 현실 너머의 고 귀한 결과물로 보는 관점에서 비롯된다. 사회 전체의 변혁이나 예술의 존재론적 본질에 대해 의문을 두는 역사적 아방가르드59)를 일상에서의 유용성을 목적으 로 한 예술의 사례로 제시할 수 있으나 이 역시 아 방가르드 예술의 순수한 목적은 쓰임을 목적으로 하 는 일상물과는 구별된다는 반론을 제기할 수 있다. 이로서 패션이 가지는 유용성의 목표는 인간의 일상 생활이라는 공예적 효용성이 예술의 순수주의와는 거리가 있는 불손한 것으로 인식의 차이를 정리할 수도 있다. 그러나 예술이 경험하는 현실이 일상적 모습이며 이를 다루는 것이 예술의 한 주제가 될 수 있다는 점이나, 인간의 일상인 삶이 곧 아방가르드 예술에서 추구하는 예술의 사회성과 같은 연장선상에 있다는 견해를 제시할 수 있다. 그리고 일상을 살아가는 보 편적 인간과 그 삶에 내재된 아름다움을 보다 집중 적으로 탐구하는 ‘삶의 미학’을 전개하며 세계 내 존 재인 우리 모두는 실천적 행위자로서 ‘실행하는’ 예 술가로 본 슈스터만의 시각에서 본다면, 일상의 모습 을 표현하는 예술과 일상에서 미적 경험되는 패션을 구분하는 사유가 될 수는 없을 것이다. 패션의 일상 품으로서의 기능과 목적이 예술과 분리되는 속성 중 하나라는 주장에 반론을 제기할 수 있는 주장이라고 볼 수 있다. 패션이 가진 형태학적 조형미에 대한 해 석을 넘어 패션이 가진 일상에서의 미적 경험이 몸 과 유기적인 통합 속에 공존과 상생으로 정향되는 미적 경계에 이르러서 유기체적 실천(praxis)이 된다. ‘세계와의 사건 속에서 행하고 겪는, 일상 그 자체를 의미 있는 것으로 가꾸어나가는 과정이 바로 예술’이 라는 관념이60) 적용될 수 있는 것이다. 다시 말해 오 늘날의 확장된 미의 개념의 연장선상의 주장이며, 패 션을 비예술로 구별한 요소가 되었던 일상성의 패션 의 속성들이 확장된 현대예술의 개념에 의해 수용될 수 있다는 관점과 맥을 같이 한다. 예술이 디자인화 되고 디자인이 예술화되는 현대 예술의 불확정적 경계 속에 일상성이 패션을 어떤 한 영역으로 확정 짓는 요소가 되지는 못한다. 또한 패션이 가지는 일상성이 예술의 희소성과 대치되는 요소로 이해되어 왔으나 예술의 희소성은 유일무이 성의 전통적 예술에서 비롯된 개념이며 수집의 투자 가치적 관점에서인 것이지 이제 작품 본연의 예술적 가치와는 상관없는 개념이다. 또한 예술의 유일무이 성은 뒤샹의 레디메이드에 의해 도전을 받은 이후 팝아트에 의해 확고히 구축된 예술의 상업적 대중적 접근으로 더 이상 예술의 속성으로 정의할 수 없는 특성이 되었다. 예술을 통한 현실의 유토피아를 꿈꾸 었던 윌리엄 모리스의 바램이 오늘날 예술의 일상성 으로 이어질 수 있으며 그 중심에 자리한 패션을 확 인할 수 있다.61) 4. 상업성 전통적인 의상과 분리되는 패션은 태생 자체가 대 중적 산업을 기반으로 하기에 상업적 특성은 패션의 제작 목적이기도 하다. 따라서 패션의 상업성은 배제 할 수 없는 중요한 속성인 것이다. 이러한 맥락에서 패션의 미적 작업인 디자인은 상품과 소비를 전제로 한 상업적 예술 행위이며, 생산물, 생산체계, 생산자, 소모품, 소비에 관한 것으로 모든 사용자의 필요와 욕구를 기술과 사회적 제약 안에서 조화롭고 적절하 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 94 - 게 자리잡아내는 것이다. 디자인을 구성하는 것은 자 본과 소비이고, 그것은 사용자 위주의 상품 부가가치 를 높이는 경제적인 행위이다.62) 부드로는 예술가와 의상 디자이너의 작업에는 영 감과 동기라는 유사성을 가지고 있지만, 예술은 그 자체가 목적이며 사적인 창작물이라면 패션은 상업 적인 목적을 가진 하찮은 영역이기에 패션이 예술일 수는 없다고 보았다. 예술은 예술, 패션은 산업인 것 이다. 부드로는 예술과 패션에 대한 구별을 우선적으 로 패션의 ‘상업성’에 근간을 두고 있다.63) 칸트주의 의 예술의 순수성에 입각하여 예술은 전통적으로 상 업성과 거리를 두었으며 이러한 전통적 관점에 따라 패션의 상업성은 예술에서 패션을 배제하는 주요 요 소로 작용하였다.64) 그러나 현대예술에서 상업성은 더 이상 예술의 영 역에서 외면해야 할 성격의 것은 아니며 자본주의사 회에서 예술이 새롭게 직면한 현실을 대처해나가는 새로운 예술의 속성으로 나타나고 있음을 보았다. 또 한 패션의 상업적 속성에 대해 리차드 마틴(Richard Martin)65)은 패션의 장점은 미술과 달리 굳이 상업 성을 숨기지 않고 노골적이라는 점이며 패션은 시각 예술의 개념에 기초를 둔 것이기에 패션을 만들고 평하는 것은 미술적 과정과 유사하다고 보았다.66) 또 한 패션의 상업성이 오히려 순수예술에 비해 대중에 게 쉽게 접근되어 풍부한 지식과 관심을 갖게 하는 장점을 가지게 한 속성이라고 보았다. 즉 패션의 상 업성은 현대예술이 쟁취한 예술의 상업성보다 훨씬 태생적으로 친숙하기에 대중으로부터의 수용이 용이 하다는 이점을 가지고 있다는 것이다. 따라서 패션의 상업성은 예술로부터 터부시 될 성격이 아니라 대중 이 누리는 문화적 형식의 차이 속에 함께하는 예술 의 장르인 것이다. Ⅴ. 결론 근대미학에서 정립된 예술의 순수성은 보편적인 예술의 속성으로 인식되어왔으며, 오늘날까지도 예술 의 본질을 이해하는 잣대로 작용하기도 한다. 그러나 20세기에 나타난 일련의 현대미술을 통해 예술의 순 수성은 더 이상 예술의 필수적 속성으로 정의할 수 없으며 예술로서의 패션을 논함에 있어 선험적으로 현대사회의 변화된 다양한 예술의 속성을 분석함으 로써 예술영역의 정확한 논의가 필요하다. 이로써 예 술의 순수성에 위배되는 촉각적 공감각성, 일시성, 일상성, 상업성 이라는 현대예술에 대두된 새로운 예 술의 속성을 분석하였는데, 이들 속성은 패션의 주요 속성이자 지금까지 패션을 비예술로 인식하게 한 요 인이기도 하였다. 이 연구를 통해 현대예술과 공유하 는 패션의 미적 경험을 통한 이들 속성들이 예술과 패션을 경계 지우는 기준이 아니라 시각적 형식을 가진 예술의 장르로 패션을 평가해야 할 분야임을 규명하였다고 본다. 예술로 수용된 패션의 속성은 첫째, 예술의 형이 상학적이고 정신적인 속성과는 반대로 인체에 착장 됨으로써 완성되는 ‘촉각적 공감각성’, 둘째, 트렌드 라는 시간성과 계절적 리뉴얼, 사회적으로 결정되고 가변하는 사회적인 한계의 용인에 따라 영원성을 확 보하지 못하는 패션의 ‘일시성’, 셋째, 일상과는 분리 된 특별하고 고귀한 대상이라는 예술에 대한 시각에 반해 일상의 삶 속에서 기능하는 패션의 ‘일상성’, 넷 째, 사회적인 효력에 의해 정의되기에 대중과의 소통 을 위한 ‘상업성’으로 정리하였다. 미학은 미와 예술 등에 대한 철학적인 논변을 넘 어서서 미술, 음악, 연극, 영화, 디자인 등 구체적인 예술 장르에 대한 비평적 성찰로까지 그 영역을 확 장해나가고 있다.67) 예술의 순수성을 넘어 변화 확장 된 예술의 영역으로 인해 패션이 예술로 수용됨을 규명한 본 연구는 패션의 조형성과 미적 특성을 논 하여 패션과 예술의 관계를 이어왔던 기존의 연구에 서 보다 확장된 접근을 하였다는 점에 연구의 가치 를 둔다. 참고문헌 1) 칸트는 제3 비판서인 <판단력 비판>에서 아름다움에 대한 미적 판단은 주관의 쾌/불쾌의 감정과 관련되며 이때의 주관성은 자신의 판단이 다른 사람에게도 보편 적으로 타당함을 요구한다. 또한 미적 판단에서의 주관 의 감정은 무관심 속에 얻게 되는 만족감으로, 주관의 미적 경험 대상에 대한 독특한 거리두기(Distanzie- 현대예술 확장에 의해 예술로 수용된 패션의 본질적 속성  - 95 - rung)를 통해 얻게 되는 ‘무관심적 만족감에 대한 관 심’을 뜻한다. 2) 많은 예술관련 패션 디자인 논문들은 팝아트, 초현실주 의, 표현주의, 아르데코, 아르누보 등과 같은 예술사조 가 패션디자인에 표현수단으로 구현된 점에 중점을 두 고, 예술사조의 작품 분석 방법론을 패션작품의 분석법 에 적용하여 복식의 형태, 색채와 같은 미적 표현에 관 한 연구들이다. 3) Miller, S. (2007), Fashion as Art; is Fashion Art?, Fashion Theory, 11(1). 4) 대표적인 아방가르드 패션 디자이너인 후세인 샬라얀, 마틴 마르지엘라, 이세이 미야께, 레이 가와쿠보, 요지 야마모토 등의 작품 분석을 통해 이들의 작품세계의 예 술적 개념과 조형성을 분석하는 연구들이 진행되었다. 5) 서승희 (2013), Artification of Fashion through the Expansion of Contemporary Art, 연세대학교 대학원 박사학위논문, pp. 1-2. 6) 샤를르 바퇴는 근대적 예술체계에서 건축을 순수예술 의 범주에 넣는 데 있어 괄호를 넣어 건축을 위치시킴 으로써 그가 건축에 대한 인식이 다른 순수 예술과는 다른 주저함이 있었다고 보인다. 7) Takeuchi, T. (2003), 미학 예술학 사전, 안영길 외 역, 서울: 미진사, pp. 53-54. 8) 김진엽, 하선규 (2007), 미학, 서울: 책세상, p. 10. 9) 서승희, op. cit., pp. 14-15. 10) 오병남 (2003), 미학강의, 서울: 서울대학교출판부, 들 어가기 15. 11) Negrin, L. (2012), Aesthetics: Fashion and Aesthe- tics-A Fraught Relationship, Fashion and Art, Geczy, A & Karaminas, V. eds, London, New York: Berg, p. 44. 12) Takeuchi, T., op. cit., p. 67. 13) 박연숙 (2011), 예술의 탈신비화와 창조적 일상, 서강 대학교 생명문화연구원, p. 119. 14) 서승희, op. cit., p. 15. 15) Negrin, L., op. cit., p. 44. 16) Shusterman, R. (2010), 프라그마티즘 미학, 김광명, 김진엽 역, 서울: 북코리아, pp. 479-480. 17) Negrin, L., op. cit., p. 45. 18) Ibid. 19) Riout, D. (2006), 현대미술이란 무엇인가, 정진국 역, 서울: 눈빛, p. 396. 20) 서승희, op. cit., pp. 137-138. 21) Loschek, I. (2009), When clothes become fashion, New York: Berg, p. 169. 22) Victorine Muller, Retrieved 2012, September 22, fro m http://highlike.org/victorine-muller/ 23) “Rebecca Horn", Retrieved 2012, September 22, from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rebecca_Horn 24) Arnason, H. H. (2003), History of Modern Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture & Photography (5th ed.), NJ: Prentice Hall, p. 598. 25) “Vanessa Beecroft", Retrieved 2012, September 22, f rom http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vanessa_Beecroft 26) Ibid. 27) 서승희, op. cit., p. 138. 28) Ibid., p. 154. 29) 시간 개념에 대한 탐구와 작품의 재료에 대한 확대를 통해 작품의 결과보다는 작업의 과정이나 방법을 중 요시한 예술로서, 1960년대 미국의 미니멀리즘의 형식 주의와 상업성, 획일성에 대한 반동으로 나타난 포스 트 미니멀리즘(post minimalism)이다. 시간의 경과에 따른 소멸이 기대되는 재료를 통해 일시성을 보여주 는 작품들은 가능한 한 오브제의 형태를 배제한다. 30) 회화, 데생에 속하지도 그렇다고 건축에 속하지도 않 지만 조각이라고 하기에도 애매한 미술을 개척하였는 데, 1968년 드완 화랑에서 열린 전시회 <대지미술(Ear- thworks)>에서 흙, 자갈 등의 자연재로 풍경 속에서 직접 행한 작업의 기록을 내놓았다(Riout, D. 267). 이 전시에서 이름을 부여 받은 대지미술은 작가마다 사용한 기법과 의도는 다르지만 전체적으로 조각의 개념을 허물고 화랑과 미술관이라는 전시 공간을 벗 어나 자연과 대지 어느 곳도 예술로 명명할 수 있는 작품이 되고 또 전시할 수 있는 공간이 되는 것이다. 31) Kounellis, J., “INSTALLATION: The Work of Jannis Kounellis", Retrieved 2013, April 2, from http://tren dland.com/the-work-of-jannis-kounellis/ 32) Javacheff, C. & Jeanne-Claude, “Running fence", R etrieved 2013, Apri l2, from http://christojeanneclau de.net/projects/running-fence 33) Jan Verwoert (2008), The Boss: On the Unresolved Question of Authority in Joseph Beuys’ Oeuvre and Public Image, E-flux. Retrieved 2013, April 2, from http://www.e-flux.com/journal/the-boss-on-the-unre solved-question-of-authority-in-joseph-beuys%E2%80 %99-oeuvre-and-public-image/ 34) 한국사전연구사 (1998. 8. 20), “일상성", 종교학대사 전, 자료검색일 2013. 4. 12, http://terms.naver.com/e ntry.nhn?cid=282&docId=630740&categoryId=282 35) 서승희, op. cit., p. 144. 36) Negrin, L, op. cit., p. 51. 37) Schusterman, R (2000), Performing Live, Ithaca, London: Cornell University Press, p. 4. 38) Negrin, L., op. cit., p. 52. 39) Shusterman, R., op. cit., p. 315, p. 358. 40) 100 Years of Sculpture: From the Pedestal to the P ixel. Walker Art Center, Retrieved 2013, April 12, fr om http://www.walkerart.org/archive/9/B5235948DB 5688CC616E.htm 41) 임근혜 (2010), 창조의 제국: 영국 현대미술의 센세이 션, 그리고 그 후, 서울: 지안출판사, p. 179. 42) Tracy Emin-Contemporary Artists, Saatchigallery, R etrieved 2013, April 12, from http://www.saatchi-ga llery.co.uk/artists/artpages/tracey_emin_my_bed.ht m 43) 서승희, op. cit., p. 149. 44) Sudjic, D. (2012), 사물의 언어, 정지인 역, 서울: 영 신사, pp. 285-292. 참조 服飾 第63卷 6號  - 96 - 45) 월간미술 (2008. 7), 미술 디자인의 믹스앤매치, 미술 상품의 부흥. 월간미술, 자료검색일 2012. 10. 2, http: //monthlyart.com/html/checkList/index.php?tp=spec ial&si=s05&search_m=0807 46) 정연심 (2008. 7), 고급과 저급의 경계를 허문 상업예 술의 천국, 월간미술, 자료검색일 2012. 10. 2, http:// monthlyart.com/html/checkList/index.php?tp=special &si=s02&search_m=0807 47) Other Criteria, Retrieved 2013, April 12, from https: //www.othercriteria.com/browse/hirst/ 48) Decorate, ShowroomDummies, Retrieved 2013, April 12, from http://www.abigaillane.co.uk/SHOWROOM DUMMIES-WEBSITE/sf_main.html 49) 조민규 (2008. 7), 런던에서 만난 yBa가 만든 상품과 쇼윈도, 월간미술, 자료검색일 2012. 10. 2, http://mo nthlyart.com/html/checkList/index.php?tp=special&s i=s03&search_m=0807 50) 월간미술 (2008. 7), Ibid. 51) 서승희, op. cit., p. 151. 52) Shusterman, R., op. cit., p. 316. 53) 서승희, op. cit., p. 137. 54) Shusterman, R., op. cit., pp. 493-511. 55) 서승희, op. cit., pp. 152-153. 56) Loschek, I., op. cit., p. 134. 57) 서승희, op. cit., p. 153. 58) 하퍼스 바자와 보그지의 전편집장이자 메트로폴리탄 미술관의 컨설턴터로 일한 패션계의 대표적 인물이다. 59) 20세기 초반 예술을 통한 사회의 변혁을 목적으로 나 타난 일련의 예술들로, 미래주의, 입체파, 다다이즘, 초현실주의, 표현주의가 이에 해당한다. 60) 정순복 (2007), 예술로서의 일상:경험론적 함의와 그 실체-존 듀이의 미학을 우리 일상에 접목시켜 행복하 게 살기 위하여, 미학, 김진엽, 하선규 편, 서울: 책세 상, p. 454. 61) 서승희, op. cit., p. 145. 62) 월간미술 (2008. 7), Ibid. 63) Boodro, M (1990. 9), Art & Fashion: A Fine Ro- mance, Art new, pp. 120-127. 64) 서승희, op. cit., pp. 178-179. 65) 미술사학가이자 FIT 갤러리 디렉터, 뉴욕 메트로폴리 탄 박물관의 의상박물관의 큐레이터, 패션이론가로서, 미술과 몸, 젠더의 이슈에 가장 적합한 분야가 패션이 기 때문에 자신이 미술에서 패션으로 전향하였으며 패션이 예술이라는 주장을 피력하였다 (강태희 2007). 66) 강태희 (2007. 2), “미술과 패션 그리고 패션사진”, 월 간미술, 자료검색일 2012. 10. 2, http://www.monthly art.com/html/05_article/0702/ac02.php 67) 김진엽, op. cit., p. 404. 
work_qyyu6mysyng6hoe6mmbahnvr4u	----	journal AUC THEOLOGICA - Karolinum menu Česky / English books News Subjects Series Journals About journals Open access Subscriptions Contacts Information and services About us Catalogues Open access For media Distribution Printing services & DTP For authors Information for authors Forms and instructions for download Contact Česky AUC THEOLOGICA About the journal Editorial board For authors Distribution Editorial policies Contact AUC Theologica is a peer-reviewed journal for theology published twice a year. As we publish original papers in English, German, French, and Italian, our mission is to serve as a platform both for Czech researchers, who can present their research results in these languages, and for international contributors, who are invited to enter the academic theological discussion in the heart of Europe. The journal focuses on a wide range of theological disciplines, such as systematic theology, biblical studies, patristic studies, pastoral and spiritual theology, religious education, church history, etc. Within these fields, the journal seeks to reflect the current theological questions and problems, which often requires interdisciplinary approaches. Supporting the intersection of various theological disciplines, we thus also welcome theological papers touching other academic fields including philosophy, sociology, literary studies, and science. Each issue consists of two sections. The thematic section presents papers of the same focus. The section called ‘Varia’ invites papers dealing with various theological themes from the perspective of all Christian traditions. Our current and past issues are approachable for free on this website in the form of Open Access. Latest articles Current issue Archive Introduction Lenka Karfíková, Miloš Lichner Friendship with God as an Ultimate Ideal in the Writings of Philo of Alexandria Markéta Dudziková Pseudo-Clementine Writings as Evidence of Friendship, Christian Community, and Polemics in the Early Church Jiří Hoblík On friends and false friendship in the poetry of Gregory of Nazianzus Erika Brodňanská Syriac Friends of St. Theodoret of Cyrrhus in the Ukrainian Synaxarion of St. Dymytriy Tuptalo Daria Morozova Frater cordis mei: Friendship in Augustine’s Confessions Lenka Karfíková The Archetype of the Woman in the Life and Work of Paul Evdokimov Karel Sládek L’identité masculine et féminine chez Jacques Maritain face au document de la Congrégation pour l’éducation catholique sur le genre Lukáš Jan Fošum ‘Adam lay ybounden’: A Marian Felix Culpa Frank G. Bosman Interpretiertes Christentum? Kritische Relektüre von Ratzingers Einführung in das Christentum Lucie Kolářová 148 x 210 mm published: 2 x per year print price: 100 czk ISSN: 1804-5588 E-ISSN: 2336-3398 Share Karolinum Press Ovocný trh 560/5 116 36 Prague 1 cupress@cuni.cz + 420 224 491 276 Karolinum Press Book catalogue Faculty submissions Media Blog Event calendar Distribution Karolinum Bookstore Contact and orders New partners Printing and design Contact and services Printing equipment © Karolinum 2021 
work_r3stbzdeobc2plvmpxd2aisnia	----	Vol. 13(41), pp. 2192-2197, 11 October, 2018 DOI: 10.5897/AJAR2018.13486 Article Number: D23600B58757 ISSN: 1991-637X Copyright ©2018 Author(s) retain the copyright of this article http://www.academicjournals.org/AJAR African Journal of Agricultural Research Opinion Launching a Startup Business in the Agribusiness Market: The Process of becoming a Successful Entrepreneur Conclusions from the CEIBS (China Europe International Business School) program at Harvard for Business Women in the Agribusiness Market Maria Luisa del Pozo Lite Innovation needs entrepreneurship and entrepreneurship needs innovation Last December 2017, Prof. Marisa del Pozo Lite (Complutense University of Madrid) was invited to give a session as member of the International Advisory Board of CEIBS-Africa to a group of 40 African Business Women in the Agribusiness Market – as part of the Alumni Reunion Agenda of CEIBS-Africa Program held at Harvard University in 2017. Getting a venture underway in the agribusiness market is often easier than keeping it going and growing. At each major stage from start-up to sustainable success, entrepreneurs face tough questions about shifting gears, making major changes, and letting go of people, partners, and products. For new businesses, inability or unwillingness to change can land them in the statistics about high failure rates at the five-year mark. For non-profits, clinging to the past can lead to marginality and stagnation. To keep an enterprise on track in the agribusiness market while facing the often- pleasant challenge of growth requires making sometimes-painful adjustments in these five areas: THE PEOPLE One of the hardest questions is when to change the people: not just individually, but the whole mix. Founders often start with friends and true believers who work hard because of zeal for the cause or hope for future returns. They occupy multiple overlapping roles. But do the people with single-digit badge numbers or members of the founding generation have the skills the organization needs as it creates routines and requires depth in every specialty? Who can make the cut? A winery I knew from its beginning kept the original group longer than the business could afford, and loyalty got in the way of bringing in experienced people "above" the people who felt they were founders and thus privileged to call the shots. Raise a glass to courageous leaders willing to tell people they must either grow or go. Finances Whether the original source of funds is venture capital or venture philanthropy, an investor base or a donor base, each growth phase challenges organizations to shift assumptions and thus change practices. Perhaps investors expect customers to take over as funders of growth by paying more (or paying at all); a challenge that agribusiness companies face now. Non-profits also outgrow friends-and-family angels or local sources and must find sustainable revenue and capital sources. How do you move from being discretionary nice-to-have in a portfolio to essential-to-fund? Where are the new sources appropriate to a new, larger size? A multi-site non-profit went from local businesses close to the del Pozo Lite 2193 founding city to national funders in government and foundations to a revenue model replicable in every site through ongoing school budgets on a fee-for-service basis. Partners and allies The best organizations are attuned to the need for key external relationships that provide resources and support. At the same time, entrepreneurs do not want to be captive to the needs and desires of their first distribution partners, component suppliers, source of talent, or marketing allies. It is tricky to know how to nurture and draw benefits from key partners without being subsumed by them or subject to damage if they stumble and, at the same time, add to a partner set without creating conflicts. Which partners should be downplayed or replaced as the organization grows? How can key relationships be managed to lessen dependence while seeking new, more relevant, allies? And with growth comes the need for entirely new types of relationships Organizational culture Are you making explicit what the organization stands for in tangible ways that can be transmitted and endure? Are you on guard against drifting away from the culture? Numerous studies, including my own, show that an emphasis on organizational culture is associated with continuing excellence. Values, stories, artifacts, and rituals provide a source of identity that makes the organization feel the same, in pursuit of the same mission even while everything else changes. Culture provides internal glue. As an organization grows, what was once informal must be documented, codified, memorialized, and passed on to new people. Savvy entrepreneurs ensure that their organizations are built to last by stressing culture. At every stage, they invest in preserving fundamental values and principles while adding new iconic stories that reflect them. Outcomes and impact What results are being produced, for whom, and are these sufficient? In the beginning it is enough to show that it can be done at all, to address a good cause or to prove that something works in a handful of markets. In the next phase, you might look at growth indicators; we did more this year than last year: Are you making a difference that makes the venture more essential? Ventures that go from proof of concept to "permanent" player have become icons, household names, or must-have players because they can show differentiated user, recipient, or national benefits: that they have impact not just on their immediate customers but on the entire industry. We all know that success provokes imitation. As the organization grows, its distinctiveness gets harder to maintain but often, many in and around the organization come to believe that existence is a sufficient sign of importance; a trap particularly for non-profits. Asking the "so what if we were not here?" question about making a difference can provoke soul-searching and strategy change. The bottom line, in addition to the challenges of innovation to ensure new offerings and new capabilities, is that the entrepreneurs and organization founders in the agribusiness marketplace must also be alert to the ways that the organization itself changes as a result of growth. It is important to anticipate those developments and ask the five big questions at every stage in order to get ahead of change and master it. HOW DO WE UNDERSTAND THE PROCESS OF ENTREPRENEURSHIP? The pursuit of opportunity without regard to the resources is currently controlled by: Entrepreneurial management 1) Strategic orientation 2) Commitment to opportunity 3) Commitment of resources 4) Control of resources 5) Management structure 6) Compensation schemes 2194 Afr. J. Agric. Res. Processes of entrepreneurship 1) Pursuit of opportunity 2) Rapid commitment and change 3) Multistage decision making 4) Using other people’s resources 5) Managing through networks and relationships 6) Sharing the value created Skills and traits of successful entrepreneurs 1) Ability to create the illusion of stability 2) Organize great teams amidst chaos 3) Risk management 4) Tolerance for ambiguity 5) Attention to detail 6) Long time perspective 7) Endurance Risks to successful organizations 1) Inflexibility from successful past practice 2) Bureaucratic processes 3) Isolation a) From new technology b) From customers 4) Hubris generation over commitment 5) Short term thinking and greed Requirements to be a leader 1) Deep industry knowledge 2) Patience 3) Willing to make hard choices 4) Dry powder 5) A little luck Why management must change This is shown in the table below: Old world New world Hard to go wrong Hard to go right Rules clear Rules unclear Local competition Global competition Level financing field Widely varying financing Customers with personal standards ties and commitment Customers with NO ties and commitment Imperfect information Almost instant data del Pozo Lite 2195 Entrepreneurial process 1) See patterns as they form 2) Prepare a plan 3) Take action 4) Revise 5) Retrench 6) Recommit Requirements for an entrepreneurial culture 1) Perceiving opportunity at all levels 2) Wanting to pursue opportunity at all levels 3) Helping people to believe that they can succeed Increasing perception of opportunity 1) Jobs with real time market connections 2) Responsibility for broadly defined objectives 3) Respect for many talents 4) Valuing change Making people want to pursue opportunity 1) Pursuit must be in the individual’s self-interest 2) Making plan cannot be the goal 3) Changing plans cannot be the same as failure 4) Risk of failure for the individual must be shared with the organization and the culture Making people believe that they can succeed 1) Short term slack 2) One “no” cannot be fatal 3) Multi-staged resource allocation 4) Sharing of resources Keys for management in the age of uncertainty 1) Building solid teamwork out of strong individuals 2) Reward functional excellence 3) Emphasis on responsibility not authority 4) Accepting the right kinds of failure 5) Insuring continuous adaptive change 6) No surprises control What can the boss really do? 1) Select, motivate and reward the right people 2) Ensure resources are available 3) Facilitate coordination 4) Rationalize decision premises 2196 Afr. J. Agric. Res. Remove the impediments to performance! Issues critical to all innovative entrepreneurial cultures 1) Resource mobility 2) Reinvestment in community 3) Joy in the success of others 4) Valuing change Take home points 1) Entrepreneurship is a process not a person! 2) Pursuing opportunity beyond the resources currently controlled is key 3) Pursuing opportunity is different from managing resources. 4) Culture, systems and management behavior can make or break the entrepreneurial mold Factors and cultural differences in entrepreneurship 1) Why innovation and entrepreneurship now? 2) Defining entrepreneurship 3) Entrepreneurs and managers 4) Entrepreneurial cultures Why are innovation and entrepreneurship needed now? 1) Technological change 2) Economic change 3) Political change 4) Social change 5) Psychological change Traditional definitions of entrepreneurship 1) Risk taker 2) Founder 3) Innovator 4) Capitalist 5) Scoundrel Innovation and entrepreneurship 1) Not just start-ups 2) Not just something that has never been seen or done before 3) Not just small companies 4) Not just technology based ventures 5) Not the high flying fast living unscrupulous promoters What is entrepreneurship? Entrepreneurship is an approach to management that starts with opportunity del Pozo Lite 2197 What is an opportunity? 1) A desired future state that is different from the present 2) A belief that achievement of that state is possible Opportunity 1) Depends on the environment 2) Depends on access to required resources 3) Depends on the person 4) Depends on timing OPPORTUNITY NEVER STANDS STILL The climate for innovation 1) Higher costs 2) More demand for value 3) Consumers feeling pinched 4) Intense competition 5) Fewer but bigger players in most domains 6) Rapidly evolving regulation “Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door” Ralph Waldo Emerson Professor Marisa del Pozo Lite Complutense University of Madrid, Spain mapoli@ccinf.ucm.es mailto:mapoli@ccinf.ucm.es 
work_r7vrinyyezdpld3x46247bsscu	----	AMS volume 29 issue 1 Cover and Back matter CAMBRIDGE The Cambridge History of American Literature Volume I: 1590-1820 Edited by SACVAN BERCOVITCH The Cambridge History of American Literature addresses the spectrum of new and established directions in American writing, wedding the voice of traditional criticism with the diversity of interests that characterise contemporary literary studies. Volume I covers the colonial and early national periods, discussing authors ranging from Renaissance explorers and Puritan theocrats to the poets and novelists of the new republic. £55.00 net HB 0 521 30105 X 845 pp. A Cultural History of the American Novel Henry James to William Faulkner DAVID MINTER Minter's broad and synthetic vision of the relationship between literary narratives and cultural events reconstructs literary history as a cultural drama in which the novels and the events, provocative fusions of the real and the imagined, emerge as kindred forms of cultural expression. £37.50 net HB 0 521 45285 6 292 pp. The Politics and Poetics of Journalistic Narrative The Timely and the Timeless PHYLLIS FRUS Frus's book tells the story of the separation of journalism from literature (Crane and Hemingway) in the early 20th century, and discusses the narratives that resulted when fiction and nonfiction appeared to merge again in the innovative journalism of the 1960s and 70s (Mailer, Capote, Wolfe, Janet Malcolm). £37.50 net HB 0 521 44324 5 318 pp. African American Theatre An Historical and Critical Analysis SAMUEL A. HAY This book traces the history of African American theatre from its beginnings to the present. It analyses the types of plays written for this theatre, identifies the perennial problems faced by theatre artists and producing companies, and makes bold, innovative proposals for the theatres healthy survival. £37.50 net HB 0 521 44522 1 303 pp. £13.95 net PB 0 52146585 0 Cambridge Studies in American Theatre and Drama 1 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core CAMBRIDGE William Carlos Williams and Alterity The Early Poetry BARRY AH EARN Many critics have noticed the paradoxes and contradictions in the work of William Carlos Williams, but few have analyzed them in detail. Professor Ahearn argues that Williams criticism has not gone far enough in recognising the uses Williams saw for contradiction. £30.00 net HB 0 52145200 7 199 pp. Cambridge Studies in American Literature and Culture 75 Poetics of the Feminine Authority and Literary Tradition in William Carlos Williams, Mina Loy, Denise Levertov and Kathleen Fraser LINDA A. KINNAHAN This book examines the early work of William Carlos Williams in relationship to a woman's tradition of American poetry, as represented by Mina Loy, Denise Levertov and Kathleen Fraser - three generations of women poets working in or directly from a modernist tradition. Linda Kinnahan traces notions of the feminine and the maternal that develop as Williams seeks to create a modern poetics. £37.50 net HB 0 52145127 2 302 pp. Cambridge Studies in American Literature and Culture 74 The Baroque Narrative of Carlos de Siguenza y Gongora A New World Paradise KATHLEEN ROSS This book is the first critical study to place both the writer and his narrative within the phenomenon of the Barroco de Indias, or the Spanish-American baroque. Approaching Siguenza as criollo historian preoccupied with the placement of the New World within a universal context, Professor Ross develops a theoretical framework within which his texts can be read and understood today. £35.00 net HB 0 52145113 2 240 pp. Cambridge Studies in Latin American and Iberian Literature 9 The Limits of American Literary Ideology in Pound and Emerson CARY WOLFE Cary Wolfe analyses the dynamics and consequences of radical individualism and the sort of cultural critique it generates in Ralph Waldo Emerson and Ezra Pound. The main purpose of the book is to demonstrate that any form of individualism which is modelled on the logic and structure of private property will always reproduce the very contradictions and alienations which it set out to criticise and to remedy. £35.00 net HB 0 521 44555 8 301 pp. Cambridge Studies in American Literature and Culture 69 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU 1,1,1 my terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core CAMBRIDGE Nathaniel Hawthorne The Contemporary Reviews Edited by JOHN IDOL and BUFORD JONES Preface by M. THOMAS INGE This collection traces the construction of Hawthorne's contemporaneous critical reputation as presented through notices and reviews, a selective bibliography, and an introduction that surveys Hawthorne's reception among American and British reviewers. £65.00 net HB 0 521 39142 3 560 pp. American Critical Archives 4 New Essays on The Country of the Pointed Firs Edited by JUNE HOWARD This collection of essays on Sarah Orne Jewett's The Country of the Pointed Firs, builds on feminist literary scholarship that affirms the value of Jewett's work, but goes beyond previously published studies by offering an analysis of how race, nationalism, and the literary market place shape her narrative. £24.95 net HB 0 52141574 8 131pp. £9.95 net PB 0 521 42602 2 The American Novel Hollywood Censored Morality Codes, Catholics, and the Movies GREGORY D. BLACK Based on an extensive survey of original studio records, censorship files, and Catholic Legion of Decency archives here published for the first time, Hollywood Censored examines how hundreds of films were censored to promote a conservative political agenda during the 1930s, the golden era of studio production. £30.00 net HB 0 521 45299 6 347 pp. Cambridge Studies in the History of Mass Communications Frederic Edwin Church Catalogue Raisonne of Works of Art at Olana State Historical Site GERALD L. CARR This is the largest project thus far undertaken on Frederic Edwin Church: a comprehensive scholarly catalogue of his works of art still at Olana State Historical Site. £250.00 net HB 0 521 38540 7 635 pp. CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core I Stand in the Center of the Good Interviews with Contemporary Native American Artists Lawrence Abbott £38 hb Chief The Life History of Eugene Delorme, Imprisoned Santee Sioux Edited by Inez Cardozo-Freeman £24.95 hb South Carolina Politics and Government Blease Graham, Jr. and William V. Moore £42.75 hb, £16.95 pb North Carolina Government and Politics Jack D. Fleer £38 hb, £17.95 pb Democracy in the Fifty States Kim Quaile Hill £28.50 hb The Life of Abraham Lincoln Isaac N. Arnold Introduction by James A. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core Within the Circle An Anthology of African American Literary Criticism from the Harlem Renaissance to the Present Angelyn Mitchell, editor "Within the Circle is essential reading for anyone interested in American literature, twentieth-century cultural criticism, or the African American intellectual canon. It belongs on every bookshelf and, more important, as required reading within the American literature classroom." - Cathy N. Davidson, editor of American Literature 584 pages, £47.95 hb, £17.95 pb The First Woman in the Republic A Cultural Biography of Lydia Maria Child Carolyn L. Karcher "This is a magnificent book. Child's character emerges as a model for what a woman can be . . . 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Rubin Jr. Southern Literary Studies An innovative study of the connection between regional awareness and imaginative achievement in the South and Midwest. 16OPP, £23.95hl The Novels of William Styron From Harmony to History Gavin Cologne-Brooks Southern Literary Studies This first full-length critical analysis of this major American novelist, uses the concept of narrative evolution, to illumine not only Styron's novels but also an entire genre. 288pp, £28.50kb LOUISIANA STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS c/o Academic & University Publishers Group 1 Gower Street London WC1E 6HA Tel: 0171 580 3994 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S FOR C O N T R I B U T O R S 1 All contributions and editorial correspondence should be sent to: The Editor, Journal of American Studies, History Department, Lancaster University, Lancaster LAi 4YG, England. 2 Articles should generally contain about 6,000 words. Longer or shorter articles, or articles in two or more parts, may be accepted by arrangement with the Editors. 3 Submission of an article is taken to imply that it has not previously been published, and has not been concurrently submitted for publication elsewhere. 4 Contributions should be clearly typed or printed in double spacing (including footnotes), with a wide left-hand margin. 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SWFF.T1NO "A Foothold in Europe": The Aesrhetics and Politics of American War Cemeteries in Western Hurope RON ROBIN The Issue ot State Power: The Council on Foreign Relations as a Case Study INDERJI-fcT PARMAR Notes and Comment The Meeting of Sacred and Profane in New York's Music: Robert Moses, Uncoln Center, and Hip-hop ANDRAS TOK.AJI Reviews Appendix American Studies in Britain: Doctoral and Masters by Research Theses on American Topics in Progress and Completed 97 1 4 1 CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS 0021-8758(199504)29:1 ;1-M terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:17, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002187580002613X https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_rdmrdosxebeztbtrhqhsh2htim	----	Page 1 of 6 Create UBC Pep Rally 4 September 2012 Professor Stephen Toope President and Vice-Chancellor The University of British Columbia How many people would say that they are having a great first day at UBC? How many think that they have chosen the best university in Canada? How many think their faculty or program is better than any other? Well I am glad you feel that way, and I think you are in for many wonderful experiences during your time here. But in order for that to occur, you’re going to have to put your creativity to work. Create truly is a perfect theme for a day like this. I hope that the word itself is an inspiring call to action. The other reason I like Create as a theme is that its meaning in the context of this day is appropriately subject to interpretation. The way I see it, to create…is to be original. Create 4 September 2012 Page 2 of 6 With that interpretation as a premise, I want to share some simple ideas concerning the importance of originality, of becoming a skilled and independent free thinker, which many contend is the single most important objective of an undergraduate university experience. Sounds simple enough, but finding originality and thinking for yourself is a process. It’s a process that begins with a willingness to be open- minded to varying points of view, followed by a careful analysis of the evidence offered in support of each one. The final step in the process is to draw your own conclusions based on what you have determined to be the most compelling evidence to support your views. It’s the opposite of sub-consciously conforming to “conventional wisdom” or popular opinion. If at some point you study American literature, you may come across the writing of the 19th century transcendentalist philosopher, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Create 4 September 2012 Page 3 of 6 In a famous essay appropriately titled, On Self Reliance, Emerson implores the reader to resist conformity with the words: “Insist on yourself; never imitate.” But even if you don’t ever read Emerson, chances are a parent or a relative has already offered the same advice in similarly blunt terms. “Be a leader, not a sheep.” “You came into this world an original; don’t leave it a copy.” Now I’ll admit that remaining an original can perhaps be challenging in an era in which pop culture is pervasive. Everywhere we go we are reminded of a world seemingly bent on conformity – conformity to clothing styles, conformity to a narrow range of popular music, or to certain verbal expressions. As an example, consider the drastic overuse – and misuse – of the word, “awesome.” There was a time when it was a highly useful and expressive term, one selectively used only to describe things that elicited slack-jawed amazement. Sadly, its meaning has become Create 4 September 2012 Page 4 of 6 distorted. It’s fallen victim to sub-conscious conformity – the antithesis of free-thinking originality. So here’s an idea. Whenever you hear the word casually used to describe things that aren’t even vaguely “awesome,” let that be a reminder to you about how one of your principle objectives during your time here is to strive for originality – originality in your thoughts and in the manner in which you express them. I have three recommendations for how you can refine these skills. The first is to leave your comfort zone. Seek the discomfort of new experiences. You’ll never have a better opportunity to try things you’ve never done before than here at UBC. Take a course in an unfamiliar subject; try a new sport; volunteer for a new cause; consider community or international service learning opportunities; sign up for co-op or mentorship programs; join a campus club, or explore the fine arts. The possibilities are infinite. Create 4 September 2012 Page 5 of 6 The second recommendation is to interact with the widest possible range of people, and do it in a direct and respectful give-and-take manner. Facebook is a wonderful tool, but it can never be a substitute for face-to-face engagement. For that matter, consider more talking and less texting. Become friends with somebody from a completely different country and culture than your own. Resist the natural urge to associate primarily with people from your home town, from your program or from your residence. You may not know it, but in many cases the connections you make in the days ahead will become important lifelong relationships, so ensure that your network is large and diverse. Third, and I cannot emphasize this enough; strive to become an effective communicator. Remember that one of the essential aspects of being an original and skilled independent thinker is the ability to articulately express both your thoughts and the rationale that supports your views. Not only Create 4 September 2012 Page 6 of 6 that, but learning to communicate effectively in both written and verbal exchanges will be of paramount importance in every future endeavour you undertake – personal and professional. Finally, a solemn assurance: at UBC, undergraduate students matter. Your success and fulfillment matters to me personally. It matters to your professors personally, and it matters personally to the staff members and student volunteers who have arranged this wonderful day called Create. With that in mind, I sincerely hope that you take advantage of the many rich opportunities before you, and that you will consider these recommendations to seek new experiences, to open your minds to diverse perspectives, to hone your communication skills and… To create…and to remain…an original. Best wishes to you all, and welcome to UBC! It’s awesome! 
work_rdosqe2buzeqjh6k2vsdlwhbxe	----	Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 545 Vitamin D status among infants, children, and adolescents in southeastern China* Ling-li WANG1, Hui-yan WANG1, Huai-kai WEN1, Hong-qun TAO1, Xiao-wei ZHAO†‡2 (1Unit of Laboratory Medicine, Second Hospital Affiliated to Wenzhou Medical University, Wenzhou 325027, China) (2College of Life and Environmental Science, Wenzhou University, Wenzhou 325035, China) †E-mail: sherwood@wzu.edu.cn Received Nov. 19, 2015; Revision accepted Mar. 8, 2016; Crosschecked June 18, 2016 Abstract: Objective: Vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency are global public health problems, which must first be identified before they can be appropriately addressed, and yet information is strikingly lacking in most parts of the Asia and Pacific region. The study aimed to document and account for the actual situation in Wenzhou on the southeastern coast of China. Subjects and methods: Serum 25-hydroxyvitamin D levels among a total of 5845 infants, preschool children, school children, and adolescents aged 1–18 years were examined between March 2014 and February 2015. Results: Their mean levels were (110.2±26.8), (77.5±25.7), (55.6±15.4), and (47.2±13.9) nmol/L, respectively. Older age groups were involved in increasing risk of vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency. There were significant seasonal differences in its median level and prevalence of deficiency and insufficiency among school children and adolescents, but there was no significant sex difference in mean level and prevalence in any age group. Conclusions: Vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency were prevalent among infants, preschool children, school children, and adolescents in Wenzhou. A vitamin D-rich diet and outdoor activities for 1–2 h per day under the natural conditions favorable to its endogeous synthesis do not suffice. The vitamin D status in Wenzhounese infants excelling over that in the US was the result of its supplementation thanks to the Chinese Medical Association recommendations, which should be conse- quently extended to more age groups. Life style shaped by socio-economic environments affects vitamin D status. Knowledge on the importance of vitamin D for healthy growth should be popularized. Key words: Vitamin D, Deficiency, Child, China http://dx.doi.org/10.1631/jzus.B1500285 CLC number: R591.44 1 Introduction Increasing evidence suggests that vitamin D has multiple biological functions in addition to the clas- sical effects on calcium and phosphorus metabolism and on bone health and muscle strength. Vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency have been associated with non-skeletal diseases, such as depression, dia- betes, heart failure, high blood pressure, rheumatoid arthritis, selected cancers, schizophrenia, and tuber- culosis (Zittermann and Gummert, 2010; Schöttker et al., 2013). Although there is no consensus on the optimal vitamin D status, most specialists agree that its deficiency should be defined as serum 25-hydroxyvitamin D (25-OHD) levels at less than 50 nmol/L, insufficiency as levels between 50 and 75 nmol/L, and adequacy as levels at more than 75 nmol/L (Holick et al., 2011). The levels even higher than 100 or 150 nmol/L have been recommended based on epidemiologic data (Bischoff-Ferrari et al., 2006). Vitamin D status in an individual is dependent on genetic inheritance, lifestyle, and geographical conditions. Systematic reviews revealed that vitamin Journal of Zhejiang University-SCIENCE B (Biomedicine & Biotechnology) ISSN 1673-1581 (Print); ISSN 1862-1783 (Online) www.zju.edu.cn/jzus; www.springerlink.com E-mail: jzus@zju.edu.cn ‡ Corresponding author * Project supported by the Wenzhou Municipal Science and Technol- ogy Bureau Grant (No. Y20150313), China ORCID: Xiao-wei ZHAO, http://orcid.org/0000-0003-3315-3866 © Zhejiang University and Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2016 Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 546 D deficiency and insufficiency are prevalent in all ethnicities and age groups where data are available around the globe, even in those living in areas with low latitude where a high level of solar ultraviolet B radiation initiates significant photochemical synthesis of vitamin D in human skin and those residing in advanced countries where vitamin D fortification has now been implemented for years (Wahl et al., 2012; Palacios and Gonzalez, 2014). For example, 72% of school children aged 7–12 years in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia had serum 25-OHD levels indicative of vitamin D deficiency (Khor et al., 2011). Results from the US National Health and Nutrition Examination Survey indicated that prevalence of vitamin D defi- ciency or insufficiency in the 12- to 15-year-old US population was 31% or 79%, respectively (Ganji et al., 2012). The situation is, however, still uncertain be- cause information on 25-OHD levels, especially among infants, children, and adolescents, is strikingly lacking in various parts of the world including most of the Asia and Pacific region (Wahl et al., 2012; Pala- cios and Gonzalez, 2014). Wenzhou, literally meaning “temperate prefec- ture” in Chinese, is an affluent district on the south- eastern coast of China at latitude 28° N and its diet is full of sea fish, such as cod, herring, and mackerel. The question arises of what is the case in such a place which is provided with plenty of solar radiation and abounds in foodstuffs containing substantial amounts of vitamin D? The aim of this study was to document and account for the actual situation of healthy infants, children, and adolescents living in a middle subtrop- ical region where the natural conditions for cutaneous synthesis of vitamin D appear favorable and its die- tary intake seems ample. 2 Subjects and methods 2.1 Subjects and study design Subjects in this cross-sectional study were re- cruited from healthy clients no more than 18 years old who visited the Second Hospital (also named the Yuying Children’s Hospital) Affiliated to Wenzhou Medical University (China) for health examination between March 2014 and February 2015. They were proved in the examination to have no evidence of abnormal liver or renal function or other diagnosed medical conditions that might potentially interfere with vitamin D metabolism, and agreed to take part in the study and provided informed consent signed by themselves or their legal guardians after the purpose and detailed design of the study were explained to them. A total of 5845 eligible subjects were divided into 4 groups based on their ages: 0–12 months, 2– 6 years, 7–11 years, and 12–18 years, representing infancy, preschool childhood, school childhood, and adolescence, respectively. February through April was astronomically specified as spring, May through July as summer, August through October as fall, and November through January as winter. The age, sex and seasonal distributions are listed in Table 1. The study was approved by the Human Research Ethics Committee at our hospital and was in accordance with the principles laid down in the World Medical Asso- ciation Declaration of Helsinki. Height and weight were measured to the nearest 0.1 cm and 0.1 kg, respectively, with each subject clad only in light clothing. A questionnaire (Liu et al., 2003) based on the 7-d recall (Sallis et al., 1993) was used to assess subjects’ outdoor activities. They and/or their legal guardians were asked to recall the hours engaging in outdoor activities over the past week, and then average outdoor activity time per day was calculated. Dietary vitamin D intake was as- sessed using the 24-h dietary recall (Lytle et al., 1993). The food items consumed during the past 24 h were reported by subjects and/or their legal guardians for 3 d consecutively (2 weekdays and Saturday or Sun- day) including breakfast, lunch, supper, and between- meal snacks. Average dietary vitamin D intake per Table 1 Age, sex, and seasonal distributions of subjects Group Seasonal distribution Spring Summer Fall Winter Total Infant Boy Girl 69 48 21 211 133 78 216 131 85 131 60 71 627 372 255 Preschool child Boy Girl 325 223 102 772 514 258 675 440 235 508 300 208 2280 1477 803 School child Boy Girl 220 151 69 778 539 239 794 547 247 293 195 98 2085 1432 653 Adolescent Boy Girl 110 84 26 352 267 85 275 191 84 116 87 29 853 629 224 Total 724 2113 1960 1048 5845 Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 547 day was calculated using the Nutrition Calculator Version 2.65 (Chinese Center for Disease Control, Beijing, China). According to the above described definition, serum 25-OHD levels less than 50 nmol/L were classified as vitamin D deficiency, levels be- tween 50 and 75 nmol/L as insufficiency, and levels more than 75 nmol/L as adequacy. 2.2 Vitamin D measurement Venous samples were collected in the morning after an overnight fast except for infants. The level of 25-OHD was determined with an electrochemilumi- nescence binding assay on a Cobas e 601 Analyzer (Roche Diagnostics GmbH, Mannheim, Germany), whose intra- and inter-assay coefficients of variation were within 4% and 10%, respectively. A matched test kit was used, following the manufacturer’s procedure. 2.3 Statistical analyses Measurement results were expressed as mean± standard deviation (SD) or median (quartile range) depending on the data distribution. The Kolmogorov- Smirnov test was applied to determine if a dataset was normally distributed and the Levene test was used to determine if relevant datasets had equal variances. Accordingly, the Student’s t-test, Cochran-Cox test, chi-square test, Mann-Whitney U-test, Kruskal-Wallis H-test, or Nemenyi test was performed to compare serum 25-OHD levels, vitamin D statuses, dietary vitamin D intakes, and outdoor activity time. Signif- icance was set at P<0.05 except in the Kolmogorov- Smirnov and Levene tests, where the significance level was set at P<0.10. 3 Results Statistical description and inference of the re- sults from vitamin D measurement are listed in Tables 2 and 3. The mean serum 25-OHD level de- creased while the decrement lessened as age in- creased. Accordingly, the vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency became prevalent as children grew up. Nearly 40% of school children and over 50% of adolescents were vitamin D deficient, while vitamin D insufficiency occurred in more than 1 of every 3 preschool children, 2 school children, and 3 ado- lescents, respectively. Few adolescents had vitamin D adequacy. Only 50% of preschool children exceeded the threshold of 75 nmol/L. There was no significant difference in mean serum 25-OHD level or preva- lence of vitamin D deficiency or insufficiency be- tween boys and girls in any age group. Nor was there significant seasonal difference in median level or prevalence among infants and preschool children. For school children and adolescents, however, there were significant seasonal differences around the year, which were found only between spring and summer and between fall and winter. Physical characteristics and vitamin D intakes of subjects are listed in Table 4. Season had an effect on the outdoor activity time in any age group. The time in summer/fall was significantly longer than that in spring/winter, but season had no effect on the dietary vitamin D intake in any age group (data not shown). The much higher median intake for infants than for the other three age groups was due to vitamin D supplementation in accordance with the Chinese Table 2 Mean serum 25-OHD levels and vitamin D statuses among infants, children, and adolescents, and their sex differences Group 25-OHD (nmol/L) Vitamin D status (%) Mean±SD P Deficiency Insufficiency Adequacy Median (95% CI) P Median (95% CI) P Median (95% CI) P Infant 110.2±26.8 0.772 1.4 (0.5–2.3) 0.366 8.6 (6.4–10.8) 0.897 90.0 (87.7–92.3) 0.681 Boy Girl 110.4±25.9 109.8±27.9 1.1 (0.0–2.2) 2.0 (0.3–3.7) 8.6 (5.8–11.4) 8.6 (5.2–12.0) 90.3 (87.3–93.3) 89.4 (85.6–93.2) Preschool child 77.5±25.7 0.232 15.1 (13.6–16.6) 0.384 34.5 (32.5–36.5) 0.894 50.4 (48.3–52.5) 0.518 Boy Girl 76.7±26.4 78.9±26.6 15.6 (13.7–17.5) 14.2 (11.8–16.6) 34.5 (32.1–36.9) 34.5 (31.2–37.8) 49.9 (47.4–52.4) 51.3 (47.8–54.8) School child 55.6±15.4 0.196 38.1 (36.0–40.2) 0.142 51.6 (49.5–53.7) 0.225 10.3 (9.0–11.6) 0.687 Boy Girl 56.7±15.7 53.3±15.6 37.0 (34.5–39.5) 40.4 (36.6–44.2) 52.5 (49.9–55.1) 49.6 (45.8–53.4) 10.5 (8.9–12.1) 10.0 (7.7–12.3) Adolescent 47.2±13.9 0.213 54.6 (51.3–57.9) 0.259 38.9 (35.6–42.2) 0.062 6.5 (4.8–8.2) 0.165 Boy Girl 48.7±13.9 42.8±13.1 55.8 (51.9–59.7) 51.3 (44.8–57.8) 37.0 (33.2–40.8) 44.2 (37.7–50.7) 7.2 (5.2–9.2) 4.5 (1.8–7.2) Data are expressed as mean±standard deviation (SD) or median (95% confidence interval (CI)). 25-OHD: 25-hydroxyvitamin D Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 548 Medical Association (CMA) recommendation in 2008 that infants and toddlers from 2 weeks old to 2 years old receive 400 international units (IU) per day and another in 2009 that vitamin D-fortified food be fed to infants and toddlers aged from 0 to 3 years old. Almost all infants were supplemented with vit- amin D, but taking supplements was a lot less popular for the older preschool children, and especially the school children and more especially the adolescents. If vitamin D supplements were excluded, there was no significant difference in median intake among these three age groups (P=0.527). The intakes were derived mainly from sea fish (ca. 58%), egg (ca. 22%), and milk (ca. 15%), and would be ca. 102 IU. 4 Discussion Vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency are major global public health problems and must first be identified before they can be appropriately addressed. No national landscape of vitamin D status has been depicted in China, although the number of 25-OHD examinations in various populations, regions, and seasons has been escalating. Few investigations fo- cused on infants, children, or adolescents, and yet their results were alarmingly below the threshold of 50 nmol/L (Arguelles et al., 2009; Foo et al., 2009; Strand et al., 2009; Zhang et al., 2014) and built up the same picture as in other parts of the world (Zhang Table 3 Median serum 25-OHD levels and vitamin D statuses among infants, children, and adolescents, and their seasonal differences Group 25-OHD (nmol/L) Vitamin D status (%) Median (QR) P Deficiency Insufficiency Adequacy Median (95% CI) P Median (95% CI) P Median (95% CI) P Infant 110.2 (35.8) 0.519 1.4 (0.5–2.3) 0.700 8.6 (6.4–10.8) 0.065 90.0 (87.7–92.3) 0.069 Spring Summer Fall Winter 108.0 (38.9) 113.2 (37.1) 110.1 (30.3) 106.8 (34.6) 2.9 (0.0–6.9) 1.4 (0.0–3.0) 1.4 (0.0–3.0) 2.8 (0.0–2.3) 11.6 (4.0–19.2) 11.4 (7.1–15.7) 4.6 (1.8–7.4) 9.1 (4.2–14.0) 85.5 (77.2–93.8) 87.2 (82.7–91.7) 94.0 (90.8–97.2) 90.1 (8.50–95.2) Preschool child 75.2 (35.7) 0.120 15.1 (13.6–16.6) 0.767 34.5 (32.5–36.5) 0.104 50.4 (48.3–52.5) 0.235 Spring Summer Fall Winter 71.9 (39.4) 77.2 (37.0) 76.4 (33.1) 74.9 (37.8) 16.0 (12.0–20.0) 14.4 (11.9–16.9) 14.7 (12.0–17.4) 16.1 (12.9–19.3) 35.7 (30.5–40.9) 32.5 (29.2–35.8) 35.4 (31.8–39.0) 35.8 (31.6–40.0) 48.3 (42.9–53.7) 53.1 (49.6–56.6) 49.9 (46.1–53.7) 48.1 (43.8–52.4) School child 55.0 (20.8) 0.003 38.1 (36.0–40.2) 0.001 51.6 (49.5–53.7) 0.002 10.3 (9.0–11.6) 0.002 Spring* Summer** Fall* Winter** 50.1 (18.4) 56.9 (21.5) 58.4 (21.1) 52.1 (20.6) 53.6 (47.0–60.2) 35.1 (31.7–38.5) 32.9 (29.6–36.2) 48.8 (43.1–54.5) 41.8 (35.3–48.3) 52.2 (48.7–55.7) 55.9 (52.4–59.4) 45.7 (40.0–51.4) 4.6 (1.9–7.3) 12.7 (10.4–15.0) 11.2 (9.0–13.4) 5.5 (2.9–8.1) Adolescent 46.2 (19.0) 0.001 54.6 (51.3–57.9) 0.001 38.9 (35.6–42.2) 0.002 6.5 (4.8–8.2) 0.002 Spring* Summer** Fall* Winter** 41.3 (20.5) 50.7 (17.9) 49.2 (16.9) 40.2 (19.7) 73.6 (65.4–81.8) 51.4 (46.2–56.6) 44.0 (38.1–49.9) 71.6 (63.4–79.8) 26.4 (18.2–34.6) 41.5 (36.4–46.6) 45.8 (39.9–51.7) 26.7 (18.6–34.8) 0.0 (0.0–0.0) 7.1 (4.4–9.8) 10.2 (6.6–13.8) 1.7 (0.0–4.1) Data are expressed as median (quartile range (QR)) or median (95% confidence interval (CI)). 25-OHD: 25-hydroxyvitamin D. * Signifi- cantly different from next season but not significantly different from previous one; ** Significantly different from previous season but not significantly different from next one Table 4 Physical characteristics and vitamin D intakes of subjects Group Height (cm) Weight (kg) Outdoor activities (h/d) Vitamin D intake (IU/d)Boy Girl Boy Girl SP/WI SU/FA P Infant 70.1±4.4 67.3±3.1 8.8±2.1 7.6±1.8 0.96±0.18 1.09±0.20 <0.001 437 (49) Preschool child 100.7±4.0 99.5±3.7 15.9±1.9 15.4±1.9 1.83±0.24 2.02±0.26 <0.001 134 (28) School child 138.1±5.6 137.6±6.0 32.6±5.7 30.6±5.4 0.94±0.14 0.99±0.13 <0.001 123 (43) Adolescent 166.9±6.5 158.6±5.6 55.0±8.3 48.4±6.4 0.88±0.11 0.96±0.12 <0.001 119 (51) Data are expressed as mean±standard deviation (SD) or median (quartile range (QR)). SP: spring; WI: winter; SU: summer; FA: fall Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 549 et al., 2013). However, these previous researches were completed above latitude 30° N, with sample sizes being generally very small. Our investigation found that the dietary vitamin D intake for preschool children, school children, and adolescents in Wenzhou was mainly derived from sea fish and as the saying goes what we eat depends on what abounds in the place where we live, and that standing dishes full of sea fish all the year around provided substantial amounts of vitamin D, so season had no effect on the dietary vitamin D intake. How- ever, even such a diet was not enough to provide the daily allowance of 400 IU. The vitamin D intake exclusively from diet in these three age groups merely gave ca. 25% of the daily allowance, though it was much higher than those for adolescent girls in Beijing, China (Foo et al., 2009) and Greek preschool children (Nicolaidou et al., 2006), and on a par with that for British children aged 4–18 years (Absoud et al., 2011). Even with vitamin D supplementation included, it was much lower than the intake for American school children, whose prevalence of deficiency was 21% (Mansbach et al., 2009), compared to 38% in their Wenzhounese counterparts. Given that supplementa- tion of vitamin D is less and less popular as children grew up, it was no wonder that vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency were prevalent and older age groups were involved in increasing risk in Wenzhou. Even so the mean and median 25-OHD levels among adoles- cents in Wenzhou were lower than those in 1006 European counterparts participating in a Healthy Lifestyle in Europe by Nutrition in Adolescence cross-sectional study (Gonzàlez-Gross et al., 2012; Moreno et al., 2014). Meanwhile, only 6.5% of ado- lescents in Wenzhou were vitamin D sufficient, compared to 18.9% in the same European study (Gonzàlez-Gross et al., 2012). In sharp contrast, the vitamin D status in Wen- zhounese infants, who were well supplemented in accordance with the CMA recommendations, ex- celled over that in advanced countries. For example, the prevalence of vitamin D deficiency was 1.4% and 9.7% among Wenzhounese infants and American white infants (Bodnar et al., 2007), respectively. Therefore, we propose the CMA recommendations should be extended to older preschool children, school children, and adolescents, and even to all age groups. More intriguingly, comparison of the physical characteristics and vitamin D intakes between pre- school children and infants indicated that supple- mentation would be necessary for vitamin D status to be optimal even under the condition of outdoor ac- tivity time appropriate to the norm of 1–2 h per day recommended by the CMA. It meant that engagement in outdoor activities for 1–2 h per day did not suffice or the seemingly favorable geographical conditions did not guarantee endogenous synthesis of vitamin D as a result of skin exposure to solar ultraviolet B ra- diation. Further studies, however, will be needed to clarify this issue because investigation into actual solar ultraviolet B radiation and subjects’ skin expo- sure to sunlight was not included in our questionnaire. It would be conducive to displaying the vitamin D status on the southeastern coast of China to com- pare our study with an investigation conducted in Hangzhou (Zhu et al., 2012), not only because both Wenzhou and Hangzhou belong to Zhejiang Province and their people have similar lifestyle, but also be- cause the two districts are distinct in many aspects. Hangzhou, the provincial capital, features a typical Wu culture, a branch of mainstream Chinese culture. Wenzhou, at the southernmost 2° latitude apart, has more cultural and physical-anthropological traits originating from farther southern China. According to the comparison (data not shown), the mean serum 25-OHD levels among infants and preschool children in Wenzhou were significantly higher than those in Hangzhou, whereas the levels among girl school children and among all or boy or girl adolescents in Wenzhou were significantly lower than those among their counterparts in Hangzhou. Both Wenzhou and Hangzhou are affluent, and the Only Child policy in China makes parents eager to offer nutritious food to their babies. The data collec- tion in Hangzhou took place between March 2008 and February 2011. We took samples between March 2014 and February 2015. During the intervening pe- riod of the studies, the awareness and concern that vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency are common and place children at high risk for chronic diseases had been growing in parents’ minds thanks to the CMA recommendations for vitamin D supplementa- tion. Meanwhile, vitamin D-fortified supplements had become easily accessible. The higher serum 25-OHD levels among infants and preschool children Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 550 in Wenzhou than those in Hangzhou can therefore be a result of the rapid developments in China over the past decade. Affluent though both districts are, the social in- frastructure in newly developed Wenzhou still lags behind that in Hangzhou which has advanced for centuries and has been reputed as a paradise on Earth. As far as middle school students are concerned, ad- mission to college from Wenzhou is more difficult than that from Hangzhou due to the relatively poorer quality of education. Students in Wenzhou conse- quently have to bear heavier burdens of classroom work in order to make up for this—getting into col- lege is a long, frenzied, and competitive process in China. So they have less time playing outdoors and receiving solar radiation with a resulting poorer vit- amin D status. This was supported by the statistical results from physical examination of college freshmen/ women in Zhejiang Province, with those from Hangzhou being the most healthy and those from Wenzhou the least (Zhejiang Provincial Department of Education, 2014). Thus, it is critical to infuse knowledge on the importance of vitamin D for healthy growth into the hearts of educators and edu- catees. As the saying of American philosopher and writer Ralph Waldo EMERSON goes, the first wealth is health! Ancestors of the Wenzhounese mainly came from farther southern China. Although their genetic origins are diversified today and human skin color is affected by many substances, Wenzhounese are gen- erally described as tan skinned compared to the northerners such as Hangzhounese just as dark skin is more often mentioned for the southerners (Eberhard, 1965). Fair skin is a very long-honed determinant of beauty and regarded as a sign of high socio-economic class in virtually mono-racial China. Girls in Wen- zhou confess themselves beige pigmented, so they are more especially deeply indulged in light skin so that they avoid voluntary sun exposure. As they grow up and become fashion conscious, they hide beneath umbrellas, stay covered in clothes, or use sunscreens when going outside to keep the sun from ‘disfiguring’ their complexions. These behaviors may explain in part the finding that the mean serum 25-OHD levels among older girls in Wenzhou were significantly lower than those among their counterparts in Hang- zhou. Only when adverse outcomes of vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency are recognized, will this neurosis and these induced behaviors harmful to healthy growth be changed. Additionally, the significant seasonal differences in median serum 25-OHD level and prevalence of vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency were found in Wenzhou only between spring and summer and be- tween fall and winter. By contrast, those in Hangzhou were also present between spring and winter. Based on theoretical calculation, Wenzhou and Hangzhou receive almost equal amounts of solar ultraviolet B irradiances quarterly. In the past 50 years, however, there was average temperature difference of 4 °C in winter between Wenzhou (8–16 °C) and Hangzhou (4–12 °C) because of obstruction by mountains, while nearly zero temperature difference during other sea- sons (9–16 °C verse 7–15 °C in spring, 22–28 °C verse 21–29 °C in summer, and 21–29 °C verse 20– 28 °C in fall); furthermore, winter in Wenzhou lasted 25 d fewer than that in Hangzhou (Yang and Mao, 2008). Shorter duration and warmer temperature made winter in Wenzhou almost identical to its spring meteorologically, thus there was no seasonal differ- ence between the two seasons. 5 Conclusions This cross-sectional study showed that vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency were prevalent among infants, preschool children, school children, and ad- olescents in Wenzhou and became more severe as children grew up. There was no significant sex dif- ference in mean serum 25-OHD level or prevalence of vitamin D deficiency and insufficiency in any age group, but there were significant seasonal differences in median level and prevalence among school chil- dren and adolescents, although the samples in our study were recruited from the health examinees rather than from the entire pediatric population. This is in- deed a defect of the study but the big sample size is a remedy for representativeness. Lifestyle shaped by socio-economic environments affects vitamin D sta- tus. A diet full of sea fish provided a substantial amount of vitamin D all the year around, and yet it was not enough to give the daily allowance. Sup- plementation would be necessary even when outdoor activities for 1–2 h per day were guaranteed, though Wang et al. / J Zhejiang Univ-Sci B (Biomed & Biotechnol) 2016 17(7):545-552 551 the natural conditions seem favorable to cutaneous synthesis of vitamin D. Consequently, the CMA recommendations for vitamin D supplementation should be extended to more age groups. Compliance with ethics guidelines Ling-li WANG, Hui-yan WANG, Huai-kai WEN, Hong-qun TAO, and Xiao-wei ZHAO declare that they have no conflict of interest. All procedures followed were in accordance with the ethical standards of the human research ethics committee at the Second Hospital (also named the Yuying Children’s Hospital) Affiliated to Wenzhou Medical University and with the Hel- sinki Declaration of 1975, as revised in 2008 (5). Informed consent was obtained from all subjects or their legal guardians for being included in the study. References Absoud, M., Cummins, C., Lim, M.J., et al., 2011. Prevalence and predictors of vitamin D insufficiency in children: a Great Britain population based study. PLoS ONE, 6(7): e22179. http://dx.doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0022179 Arguelles, L.M., Langman, C.B., Ariza, A.J., et al., 2009. 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Nutr., 5(5):615S-623S. http://dx.doi.org/10.3945/an.113.005678 Nicolaidou, P., Kakourou, T., Papadopoulou, A., et al., 2006. Low vitamin D status in preschool children in Greece. Nutr. Res., 26(12):620-625. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.nutres.2006.09.018 Palacios, C., Gonzalez, L., 2014. Is vitamin D deficiency a major global public health problem? J. Steroid Biochem. Mol. Biol., 144(A):138-145. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jsbmb.2013.11.003 Sallis, J.F., Buono, M.J., Roby, J.J., et al., 1993. Seven-day recall and other physical activity self-reports in children and adolescents. Med. Sci. Sport. Exer., 25(1):99-108. http://dx.doi.org/10.1249/00005768-199301000-00014 Schöttker, B., Ball, D., Gellert, C., et al., 2013. Serum 25-hydroxyvitamin D levels and overall mortality. A systematic review and meta-analysis of prospective co- hort studies. Ageing Res. Rev., 12(2):708-718. http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.arr.2012.02.004 Strand, M.A., Perry, J., Zhao, J., et al., 2009. 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Nutrients, 2(4):408-425. http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/nu2040408 中文概要 题 目：中国东南地区婴儿、儿童与少年的维生素 D 状态 目 的：维生素 D 缺乏和不足是全球性的公共卫生问题， 欲妥善解决，必首先了解之。 创新点：大部分亚太地区关于维生素 D 状态的信息奇缺， 本研究记录与分析了地处中国东南沿海的温州 的实际状况。 方 法：2014 年 3 月至 2015 年 2 月之间，总共检测了 5845 名年龄在 1~18 岁的婴儿、学前儿童、学龄儿童 与少年的血清 25-羟基维生素 D 水平。其均数分 别为（110.2±26.8）、（77.5±25.7）、（55.6±15.4） 与（47.2±13.9）nmol/L。随着年龄增大，发生维 生素 D 缺乏和不足的风险升高。学龄儿童与少年 的中位数与维生素 D 缺乏和不足发生率存在显 著的季节差异，而所有年龄段的均数与发生率不 存在显著的性别差异。 结 论：维生素 D 缺乏和不足普遍发生于温州的婴儿、学 前儿童、学龄儿童与少年，富含维生素 D 的饮食 与在有利于维生素 D 内源性合成的自然条件下 每天户外活动 1~2 小时并不能满足需求。温州婴 儿的维生素 D 状态优于美国婴儿，是因为中国医 学会自 2008 年以来推荐 2 周至 2 岁的婴幼儿应 每天摄入 400 IU 维生素 D，自 2009 年以来推荐 3 岁以下的婴幼儿应喂食维生素 D 强化食物，因 此，其推荐范围应当扩展至更多年龄段。因社会 经济环境形成的生活方式影响维生素 D 状态，应 当广泛宣传关于维生素 D 对于健康生长至关重 要的知识。 关键词：维生素 D；缺乏；儿童；中国 
work_rdtizukhc5cjdmev5o66ydwasm	----	N E W S L E T T E R N U M B E R 2 6 S P R I N G / S U M M E R 2 0 0 6 w w w . b r c 2 1 . o r g THIS ISSUE: Living Legacies and Intergenerational Creativity Women of Courage Lecture page 1 Mentor and Disciple Relationships page 1 Director’s Message page 2 Emerson and Imagination page 3 The Wisdom of Youth page 6 Guest Interview: Mary Catherine Bateson page 8 News & Notes page 11 Book Talk page 14 Editor’s Note page 15 The Eleanor Roosevelt Lecture on GlobalVision, cosponsored by the BRC and the Wellesley Centers for Women, was the fifth and final event in the Women of Courage Lecture Series. Shulamith Koenig, a self- described “human rights fanatic,” gave the audience of over 125 people a lot to think about with her rousing talk entitled “In Our Hands: Human Rights Is a Way of Life” in which she acknowledged Eleanor Roosevelt as “my guiding light.” But first, “a very special guest” was introduced: First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, ably portrayed by actress Elena Dodd dressed in a vintage suit, fox fur stole, and feathered hat. To the audience, it seemed that Eleanor Roosevelt had come back to life to explain her role as the astute chair of the UN Commission. To her surprise, President Harry Truman invited her to join the UN Delegation on Human Rights. Before she knew it, she was en route to London as a member of Committee 3, the group charged with humanitarian, educational, and cultural questions. From these beginnings, Eleanor Roosevelt was invited to create a UN Human Rights Commission in 1946. Working in Geneva with representatives of many nations, it took 85 meetings to reach a draft of the Universal Declaration that everyone could accept. In particular, Mrs. Roosevelt was CONTINUED ON PAGE 4 The Eleanor Roosevelt Lecture on Global Vision SAVE THE DATE! September 30, 2006 3rd Annual Ikeda Forum for Intercultural Dialogue See page 2 for details. Elise Boulding, Susan Bailey, Virginia Benson, and Shulamith Koenig enjoy a few moments before the lecture. Boston Research Center for the 21st Century Richard Seager is Associate Professor of Religion at Hamilton College and author ofEncountering the Dharma: Daisaku Ikeda, Soka Gakkai, and the Globalization of Buddhist Humanism (University of California Press, 2006). Based on his East/West understanding of intergenerational creativity, he highlights one of the themes of his book below as he explains how mentor-disciple relationships operate within the Soka Gakkai, a lay Japanese Buddhist organization based on the teachings of Nichiren. For an author interview with Dr. Seager, please go to www.brc21.org/books_booktalk.html. MENTOR AND DISCIPLE: The Globalization of an Ancient Idea CONTINUED ON PAGE 12 2 . . . . . . F R O M T H E D I R E C T O R Recently, I attended a talk by Jane Goodall at the Franklin Park Zoo, celebrating Earth Day. Under a tent on that overcast day, she reminded the crowd in simple heartfelt words that we stand on a precipice, that the earth is dying. She told real tales of beauty, awe, and suffering among animals in disappearing habitats and then she turned to the children. She said that everywhere she goes, she has been speaking with young people. She found sadness. They are depressed about the state of their world-to-be. And they are angry, she said, angry with her generation for bequeathing all these terrible problems to them. Goodall’s response was to create a community service program for young people called Roots and Shoots. Full of creative energy, this group is inspired by a vision of the persistent invisible growth of roots and the fresh life force of shoots, which together can undermine the thickest walls. Jane Goodall’s initiative, now flourishing among young people around the world, is just one example of intergenerational conversations that can give rise to powerful alliances for positive change. This newsletter with its theme of “Living Legacies and Intergenerational Creativity” shares Goodall’s impulse. I hope something in it strikes a chord with you. BRC's upcoming Ikeda Forum for Intercultural Dialogue (announced below) is inspired by a New England living legacy, the expansive life philosophy of Ralph Waldo Emerson. We aim to provide a public space for empowering private imaginations—young and not-so-young—and setting them loose on the awesome challenge of imagining a great future for our country, a future much different from today. In his essay, “Politics,” Emerson writes prophetically, “We live in a very low state of the world, and pay unwilling tribute to governments founded on force.” Can we, as “the sage of Concord” dared, imagine something that’s never been tried—a country built on love and trust? If this seems wildly optimistic to you, maybe the words of our co-convener, Sarah Wider, President of the Emerson Society, will help. “If we want to make imagination feel at home, generosity shows us the way. How else can imagination thrive but in the place where welcoming comes first and where judgment feels no need to speak and finally feels no need to be? ... When Emerson talks about generosity, he connects it with a large understanding. If we are generous, we see well beyond ourselves and our individual limitations. We are generous of ‘sentiment,’ of ‘mind,’ of ‘affection,’ of ‘intellect,’ of ‘sympathy.’ It may well be the primary catalyst for the imagination.” Join us, generous souls, as we entertain the imagination at the BRC this September. THE IKEDA FORUM FOR INTERCULTURAL DIALOGUE Emerson and the Power of Imagination SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 30 Ralph Waldo Emerson once observed that imagination is not the talent of a gifted few, but the health of a whole society. Yet daily we see evidence of failed imagination — in our classrooms, in our political leaders, in the violence that endangers our world. Now more than ever, we need our imaginers. Join us as we explore the power of a healthy imagination in helping to create the world we long for. Virginia Benson, Executive Director 3 . . . . . . “If you touch the imagination, you serve them.” RALPH WALDO EMERSON D uring his lifetime, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-82) addressed thousands of people through his sermons, lectures, essays, and poems. Beginning his speaking career as a Unitarian minis- ter, he left the ministry in the 1830s but continued his commitment to the life of the imagination as a lecturer and writer. His first book, a slim vol- ume titled Nature appeared in 1836. It launched a revolution of thought that continued in several volumes of essays and in two volumes of poems. His audiences have been many and varied. They remain so to this day, including painters, teachers, novelists, architects, musicians, educational reformers, poets, peace activists, and philosophers. Over the years, many well-known thinkers have been inspired by Emerson, including Elizabeth Peabody, Sarah Freeman Clarke, John Dewey, Lucy Maud Montgomery, Louisa May Alcott, Charles Ives, Frank Lloyd Wright, Dorothy Canfield Fisher, W.E.B. DuBois, Marsden Hartley, Friedrich Nietzsche, Lucia Ames Meade, Josei Toda, Daisaku Ikeda, and Martin Luther King, Jr. During a time that might well remind us of our own, Emerson criticized the soulless, property-driven society that privileged money and fame over imagination and friendship. For Emerson, the latter were the true “properties” of human life, the elements within which all life could properly thrive. In his view, the imagination Again and again, Emerson reminded listeners and readers alike that “the one thing in the world of value is the active soul.” He assured his audiences that this soul was “not the privilege of here and there a favorite, but the sound estate” of every person. The question remained: did individuals turn greedy claiming that estate as their own or did they understand the larger nature of that active soul? Throwing down a challenge to his nineteenth-century readers, a challenge that no generation has yet met, he comments that there are higher rights than those currently recognized by American democracy: “A man has a right to be employed, to be trusted, to be loved, to be revered.” In the dominant cultures of the contemporary world, those rights have yet to be honored. We are far from that State which Emerson asks us to imagine. In 1841, he wrote, “The power of love, as the basis of a ‘State,’ has never been tried.” Martin Luther King, Jr., called upon the world to imagine that State during the Civil Rights Movement. As Emerson tells us, “Thoughts rule the world.” Every day we forcefully see that reality, both in the rare places where love flourishes and heartbreakingly—and all too commonly—where hatred seeds the violence we have come to know all too well. Emerson reminds us we can make other choices. We are the active soul. Returning to Emerson’s words and reading them with the imagination they invite, we are moved to do more than lament the situations we can change. Sarah Ann Wider Colgate University ...................... COMMENTARY Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Legacy: The Power of Imagination was our homeland, a place without borders or boundaries, where no one was excluded and each could do his or her own creative and imaginative work. As he commented in an essay entitled “Beauty,” “There are no days so memorable as those which vibrated to some stroke of the imagination.” Loosening the stranglehold of mecha- nization, Emerson offered a markedly different reality. He proposed that creation was not over and done with. Instead, the world was a work in progress, not because it needed improvement or redemption, but simply because the very nature of existence was dynamic. In Emerson’s thinking, we live in a world rich with process, where one thing is always becoming another. Little wonder that when translations from Hindu, Confucian, and Islamic writings became available in New England, he was fascinated, encouraged, and heartened. Here was yet further evidence of the profound relation connecting all thought, all individuals, all Nature, even as the bumpiness and busyness of individual days often prevents us from experiencing the interconnectedness that is, literally, only a thought away. Photo: Joel Myerson Collection of Nineteenth-Century American Literature, Thomas Cooper Library, University of South Carolina 4 . . . . . . The Eleanor Roosevelt Lecture on Global Vision CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1 “Shula needs to be better known because the world needs women role models,” said Bailey. “One half of humanity cannot make the changes they don’t see or feel the need to make.” Speaking passionately about the need for a broader understanding of the many dimensions of human rights, Shulamith Koenig asked a fundamen- tal question: “How do we bring the message to the world that human rights is a way of life?” In her holistic view, the matter of human rights is a matter of development, of social justice, of security, of economics. “Human rights is the right to be human,” she said. Koenig spoke of her youth in Israel. “I grew up in a socialist country,” she explained, “and my father, an X-Ray technician, was a feminist.” Although she became an officer in the Israeli Army, Koenig was never taught to hate Arabs. Remembering her father’s particular interpretation of “Jews as a chosen people,” she smiled. “He always said ‘Yes, you are chosen for responsibility.’” As she spoke, her deep commitment to human rights was clear. Regarding armed conflict, she said, “Morality is more important than nationality.” On the role of women in modern society, she said, “Patriarchy cannot exist unless women agree to it.” Like Nelson Mandela, she devotes her energies to the vision he has artic- ulated: “Let us create a new political culture based on human rights.” She often returned to her fundamen- tal question: “How do we spread the word about human rights to make them a reality? How do we make human rights a way of life?” According to Koenig, human rights encompasses ALL rights. While political and civil rights may provide the structure, we must also include cultural, social, and economic rights in our definition of human rights. This concept, she explained, is built into the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. “This is a miracle that’s happened since 1948. We can learn from this, not from a point of view of violation but from a point of view of realization that shows us what we need to do for every human being in the world to make human rights a way of life.” She spoke with particular passion about the condition of women, noting that patriarchy remains “the law of the land,” meaning every land worldwide. “We are the forgotten half of the world,” she said. proud of achieving gender-free language: “all human beings” instead of “all men.” On December 10, 1948, the document was adopted by 48 out of 58 nations with no dissenting votes (some abstaining). Mrs. Roosevelt’s term on the UN Human Rights Commission ended in 1952. Susan Bailey, executive director of the Wellesley Centers for Women introduced the speaker. As founder and executive director of the People’s Movement for Human Rights Learning, Shulamith Koenig has con- ducted consultations with educators and community leaders in more than 60 countries. Recipient of the United Nations Human Rights Award in 2003, she was a driving force behind the campaign that sparked the UN Decade for Human Rights Education, 1995-2004, and she helped to estab- lish ten expressly-designated human rights cities worldwide. “Every Human being knows when injustice is present.” SHULAMITH KOENIG 5 . . . . . . In this context, she spoke of the Convention for the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women (CEDAW in short) and described it as “…the only document in the world that recognizes women as full human beings.” Elaborating, she explained that patriarchy is a system “where injustice is presented as justice” and must be addressed as a system, not by pointing fingers at individual men. “[As women] we exchange our equality for survival.” Defining herself as “an absolutist… a fundamentalist” she declared that “Patriarchy is the basis for all the ailments of the world, for everything.” In Koenig’s view, the differences that all people are aware of from a very early age are gender-related. Regardless of what the culture is, there are divisions along gender lines. And in most places, from Africa to the United States and throughout the world, Koenig has observed that “from the beginning, being a woman is an inferior thing to be.” But there is, she suggests, an advantage in this: “This allows us to understand the inferiority of others, the ongoing vicious cycle of humiliation that we must break through.” She urged those present not to shy away from accurate language in their approach to human rights: “Human rights is a political ideology. Don’t get scared of the word ideology; many people are really angry with me when I do that. But human rights is a political ideology. What is an ideology? An ideology is the way we want to be in the world, correct? The way we want to be in the world in community, in dignity.” She also emphasized the importance of being aware of how the “ideology” of human rights applies to daily realities: “Thirteen thousand people a day die of hunger in the world; four times the number of people who died on September 11th. Every day of the week, of the year, of the month. Where we have to go with that is to really understand that we are looking for a ‘framework’ to respond to such realities. We speak about these things in churches; we speak about them at Harvard University; we speak about them everywhere, but nobody knows that the framework is already there and that it’s called human rights.” In closing, she spoke of her current project to develop “Human Rights Cities” throughout the world, noting that none exists in America at this time. She also invited the audience to join her in this effort, or create their own project together. For further information on Shulamith Koenig’s work, including her vision for Human Rights Cities, please go to www.pdhre.org. To read the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, go to www.un.org/rights/50 /decla.htm. An in-depth summary of Koenig’s lecture is available at www.brc21.org/er_woc_summary.html. Helen Marie Casey and Patti Marxsen Natasha Trethewey spoke of the “erasures of history.” Over 125 people attended the Women of Courage lecture by Shulamith Koenig. 6 . . . . . . Rabindranath Tagore A YOUNG POET’S VISION WHEN RABINDRANATH TAGORE (1861-1941) was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1913 for a volume of poems called Gitanjali (Song Offerings), he was the first Asian to win the coveted prize. Born in 1861 into one of the leading families of the Bengal Renaissance, young Rabi, the youngest of fourteen children, grew up in a family atmos- phere that welcomed new cultural influences and rejected barriers, both sectarian and social. Tagore credits several illuminating experiences from his youth with shaping his life and establishing its creative direction. When he was learning to read at about the age of six, disconnected words suddenly came together as he encountered the rhyming phrase “jal parey/pata narey” (the water falls/the leaf trembles) in his spelling book. The rhythm of the words connected him for the first time with a harmonious creative dimension. “I was no longer a mere student with his mind muffled by spelling lessons,” he writes. “The rhythmic picture of the tremulous leaves beaten by the rain opened before my mind the world which does not merely carry information, but a harmony with my being. The unmeaning fragments lost their individual isolation and my mind revelled in the unity of a vision.” An even more intense experience occurred at age 18 as he stood on a balcony in Calcutta watching an early morning sunrise. It was a heightened moment, he wrote, as though a mist had lifted and “the invisible screen of the commonplace was removed from all things and all men, and their © Schweitzer Archives, Gunsbach Albert Schweitzer: THE POWER OF YOUTHFUL IDEALISM ALBERT SCHWEITZER (1875-1965) emerged on the world stage as the Nobel Peace Prize winner of 1952; the kindly doctor who ran a hospital somewhere in Africa; or the compas- sionate, wrinkled face on the cover of LIFE Magazine (1956). These images fix his persona in our cultural memory as an elder. But long before he had white hair, Schweitzer was a gifted young man facing a difficult decision. As the son of a Protestant minister in the French-German region of Alsace, Schweitzer’s early life was shaped by Christian theology and European culture. As a boy, he demonstrated talent for music and possessed an innate sensitivity: “As far back as I can remember, I was saddened by the amount of misery I saw in the world around me.” He attended an elite Gymnasium and, at age 18, enjoyed his first trip to Paris to study the organ. At the University of Strasbourg, he gravitated toward philosophy, theology, and music theory. “I was always, even as a boy, engrossed in the philosophical problem of the relation between emotion and reason,” he said. Surely he would become a pastor, a professor, or a musician. Instead, Albert Schweitzer decided “to make my life my argument” by surprising everyone he knew with a different choice. In 1905, a week before his thirtieth birthday, he laid out his view of missionary work in a sermon. He explained that “…mission- ary work in itself is not primarily a religious matter.” Rather, he saw it as a humanitarian responsibility, The Wisdom of Youth Youth is, after all, just a moment, but it is the moment, the spark that you always carry in your heart. —RAISA M. GORBACHEV THE WISDOM OF YOUTH 7 . . . . . . his first poem at age eight and, by the end of his life, had written more than 25 volumes of poetry, 15 plays, 90 short stories, 11 novels, 13 volumes of essays, and had founded and edited numerous journals. He created an educational centre at Santiniketan (The Abode of Peace), prepared Bengali textbooks, composed more than 2,000 songs (including two that would become the national anthems of India and Bangladesh), as well as creating over 2,000 paintings. Besides his educational and literary work, he was an actor, singer, director- producer, religious commentator, cultural ambassador, and initiator of rural development projects. It is noteworthy that his creative output during the last years of life was not only prolific, but also innovative in new directions. From his creative spirit, awakened so early in life by the wonders of Nature and language, ultimate significance was intensified in my mind... That which was memo- rable in this experience was its human message, the sudden expansion of my consciousness in the super-personal world of man.” This experience was followed by an unprecedented out- pouring of creative energy that affected him throughout his life and which, according to his self-narrative, provided the experiential base for his concept of a unity that penetrates all existence. As he noted to biographer C.F. Andrews: “That morning in Free School Lane was one of the first things that gave me the inner vision, and I have tried to explain it in my poems. I have felt, ever since, that this was my goal: to express the fullness of life, in its beauty, as perfection—if only the veil were withdrawn.” Tagore’s creative output seems an almost impossible feat. He composed Tagore left an enduring legacy that is still celebrated today, in India and throughout the world. Through his life and work, his voice continues to speak to the future, as in these lines from Gitanjali: Where words come out from the depth of truth; Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection; Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit; Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action— into that heaven of freedom, my Father, Let my country awake. Kathleen O’Connell University of Toronto to infectious diseases made worse by the tropical climate. But, in time, the Schweitzer Hospital in Lambaréné, Gabon, West Africa, grew into the remarkable facility it is today, and Dr. Schweitzer grew into his idealistic vision of himself. His life became one of service and inspiration to others. Meanwhile, his untranslatable idea of “Ehrfurcht vor dem Leben,” (“Reverence for Life” in English and “Respect de la Vie” in French) evolved as the philosophical under- pinning of the life he had chosen. Today, Schweitzer’s life and legacy are celebrated through a network of organizations that work to promote service to humanity, primarily in the realm of global public health. Groups of German, French, and Swiss sup- porters work closely with the Health Ministry of Gabon to maintain a 150-bed hospital, several community health dispensaries, and state-of-the- an ethical stance desperately needed in the world. Six months later, he announced his plan to begin medical school and, eventually, establish a hospital in Africa. “My relatives and friends reproached me for the folly of my enterprise,” he says in his autobiography, Out of My Life and Thought. He was accused of “burying the talent entrusted to me” and “scolded” by his organ teacher in Paris who imagined a brilliant career for his star pupil. But as much as Schweitzer was endowed with energy and intelligence, he was also endowed with stubbornness. “I believed… that I had the inner fortitude to endure any eventual failure of my plan.” When Schweitzer and his young wife left for Africa in 1913, they had just enough money for about a year. The first years in Lambaréné were fraught with difficulties, from resilient rats art medical research facility in Lambaréné. In 2006, Hospital Albert Schweitzer of Deschapelles, Haiti, marks its 50th year of operation. And the Boston-based Albert Schweitzer Fellowship (ASF) is work- ing to increase the number of annual Schweitzer Fellows to 300 in seven American cities, in addition to the young medical students chosen to go to Lambaréné each summer. “It is through the idealism of youth that man catches sight of truth,” Schweitzer once said. Ultimately, Schweitzer’s legacy is not just that of a healer and peacemaker, but of a person who lived with what we might call intergenerational intelli- gence. His respect for life included respect for all stages of life, beginning with the youthful idealism that fueled his lifelong spirit. Patti M. Marxsen Age does not always inform youth. Sometimes youthful experience and instincts guide lives of great purpose. Two twentieth-century examples include Nobel Laureates Rabindranath Tagore and Albert Schweitzer, whose youthful turning points remain part of their lasting legacies. PM: Let’s begin with a little back- ground on cultural anthropology, a field many of us associate with the work of your parents, Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson. MCB: When my parents went into anthropology, anthropologists were almost entirely focused on pre-literate societies that were still fairly isolated. My parents met in New Guinea, which is an archipelago with some- thing like 700 languages and lots of different regional groups, each with its own religion, its own traditions, stories, and artistic styles. PM: When did your mother write her most famous work, Coming of Age in Samoa? MCB: That was in the 1920s. After that, she went to New Guinea. But from the very beginning she looked at research on pre-literate peoples as relevant to our understanding of our own society. When she wrote about Samoa, she wrote about it to advance our understanding of adolescence. Similarly, she believed that looking at childhood in a stone age society was relevant to understanding the human condition in general. PM: That’s a radical idea, that we might learn from “primitive” people, isn’t it? MCB: We still have a lot to learn. One place where you will find that idea expressed a lot today is in the environmental field. People are arguing that indigenous peoples are closer to their environment and more respectful. We could learn a lot from them on that. PM: You wrote a very successful book titled Composing a Life. There and elsewhere you speak about the composition of lives as an art form. In what way do human lives, especially women’s lives, mirror the process of creative work? MCB: I started writing about American women at a time when women’s lives had changed a great deal and we were trying to combine aspects of life that had previously been regarded as impossible to com- bine: careers and marriage, careers and family. And most women of my generation could not plan their lives to be like their mothers, so we were trying to do this without models. PM: This has made our lives more interesting, but has it also made our relationships with our mothers a little more complicated? MCB: Yes, it has. But although that was a very radical shift we went through, it has now become the norm. No one can any longer assume that their lives will be modeled on the life of their same-sex parent, male or female. PM: Can’t a person choose to “follow in my father’s footsteps”? MCB: Suppose there is this fellow who says, “I am going to be a doctor. My father was a doctor; my grand- father was a doctor; that’s my family tradition.” He thinks he is going to imitate his father, but in fact he cannot be a doctor in the same way as his father or grandfather. He is going to have to deal with managed care and he is going to have to learn all kinds of new technologies. The economics and organization of healthcare has changed radically, not to mention the disease conditions that are being addressed. So, that young man will have a very different career, even though he may be “a doctor like his father.” PM: This calls on our creativity. MCB: Yes, the amount of creative problem solving needed in a particu- lar life has increased greatly. My argument in Composing a Life was not just that it takes creativity to put the pieces together and deal with the discontinuities in women’s lives, but that one could regard this process as a creative art form, instead of as a compromise. 8 . . . . . . G U E S T Composing a Conversation with Mary Catherine Bateson I N T E R V I E W Mary Catherine Bateson is a writer and cultural anthropologist. Sherecently completed three years as a Visiting Professor at the Harvard Graduate School of Education. She has written and co-authored many books and articles, lectured across the country and abroad, and is president of the Institute for Intercultural Studies in New York City. Until recently, she was the Clarence J. Robinson Professor in Anthropology and English at George Mason University and is now Professor Emerita. Her books include Composing a Life, With a Daughter’s Eye, and Willing to Learn: Passages of Personal Discovery. Bateson was interviewed at the Center by publications manager Patti M. Marxsen. PM: If women are now more experi- enced at this, because of the shifts that we went through in the twentieth century, does it hold that we are now more adaptable and creative than men? MCB: I don’t think we are more adaptable or creative than men, but I do think that women are more aware of the need for creative improv- isation in their lives than men are because we are so aware of the mag- nitude of the change we have lived through. And now it’s happening with aging. As we think about aging, we tend to think that old people are like the grandparents we knew, and that is how we are supposed to be. PM: Yes, that would be logical. MCB: It is logical, but remember that our grandparents grew up in a differ- ent world, aged in a different way, had different kinds of medical care, and so, just as women had to figure out how to be women unlike their mothers, people coming up on formal retirement now have to figure out how to be older adults. They will not be like their grandparents, because they are likely to live on for many more active years than their grandparents. PM: You characterize this post- retirement phase of life as the time for Active Wisdom and you define it as a new developmental stage of life. Tell us more about that. MCB: The big mental shift you have to make is to realize that increased longevity is not an extension of old age. It is a new developmental stage inserted between adulthood and old age anywhere between age 50 and 80, and, for some people, age 90. People go back to school, they form new marriages, they take up new avocations, and they are inventing new ways of growing old. This is Active Wisdom. The reason why I use that phrase is that wisdom is the most positive trait we associate with old people. In the past, you didn’t have a long life of experience leading to wisdom in combination with many years of continuing energy and health that allow you to be very active. PM: In this context, are there patterns or common themes in women’s lives, patterns that cut across cultures for women as they age? MCB: I think the commonalities in women’s lives are biological ones. Childbearing, for example, is a common experience, even though different societies elaborate things differently. In America, we live in a society that tends to devalue older people and put a lot of emphasis on youth. So women often feel unattractive and dye their hair and get cosmetic surgery and try to look younger, and increasingly men are doing the same thing. These things have a lot to do with social values. In societies where older people are respected and valued, people make an effort to look older. PM: America, and many industrial- ized societies, seem to value money and power over wisdom or age. MCB: I think we still have the idea that wisdom matters. If you look at someone like Jimmy Carter, there is a kind of respect that has developed for him that is related to his age and reflectiveness and where he has been and what he has done. But we don’t give people that kind of respect unless they have been keeping up. PM: He is a good model of wisdom and continual growth. This recogni- tion that people never stop changing and learning is part of what I love about your thinking. MCB: Yes, we keep growing and changing. And one of the great disadvantages of the nuclear family is that you don’t have as much intimate diversity as you would have in an extended family or a close-knit community. So you may not have the opportunity to know people of many different ages as they move through life. PM: Do you expect to see another global generational rebellion like the one in the sixties? The world is certainly in a very precarious state and there are a lot of things going on that you would expect the youth of the world to reject and want to do better. MCB: I think there will always be idealistic young people, though we could certainly use more at present, and we could talk about why there aren’t as many as there used to be. But I think that particular disconti- nuity in the 1960s may have been a special case. PM: Let’s talk about idealistic old people. Back to this new develop- mental stage of Active Wisdom, something you also call Adulthood II to emphasize that it is not “added on” to life expectancy but inserted between retirement and old age. You have written about people in this phase of life as valuable resources. Why is that such a radical idea and why is it more common to look at old people as a burden? MCB: Well, they used to be more dependent in various ways and very old people still are. The concept of institutionalized retirement and pensions was invented for the German Civil Service right around the turn of the twentieth century. The notion was that if someone was 65 or 70 years old, and had worked all his life in the Civil Service, he should not become a beggar. In the United States at that time, life expectancy at birth was 45, and globally it was something like 32. 9 . . . . . . CONTINUED ON PAGE 10 The amount of creative problem solving needed in a particular life has increased greatly. ...................... 10 . . . . . . The point is that the number of people who survived on the job to retirement age was fairly small and they didn’t stay on their pensions for very long. Now we have increasing numbers of retired people, but as long as they are healthy the solution is to think in terms of continuing partici- pation and contribution. PM: Those numbers are astonishing. Things have certainly changed. MCB: Yes, things have changed dramatically. Most people are still alive at 65 and most of them are going to hang around for another 10 years, and a lot of them 15, 20, maybe 30 years. What’s so sacred about age 65? It has been frozen as a symbolic turning point, but this no longer makes sense. We are still telling people that they should retire and take it easy. I think we need to be telling people, “Contribute, do something worthwhile, participate!” PM: What I see in my retired friends is a lot of very purposeful volunteer work. These are people who have financial security, so they can do that. But it would be interesting to see them getting paid by organizations because they are bringing real skills. MCB: One of the things that needs to be done is to make it easier for retired people to get work that fits their lives. PM: Should we try to stop thinking in terms of “retirement”? Is that the wrong language? MCB: I think we are going to get increasingly flexible about when and how “retirement” comes. I think we are going to allow various forms of phased retirement and part-time careers for older people, as well as new post-retirement patterns. In our society, we tend to think of work as a burden for a lot of reasons, but life without work can also be a burden. PM: I am still a little hung up on the word retired. I think it probably comes from the French word retirer, to draw back, as if you want to pull away from the stream of life. But that seems like the wrong image. Maybe “transformation” would be more appropriate. MCB: That’s a good point. But maybe retirement in its original sense continues to make sense but at a much later time. I have met people who say they have retired twice. They have retired from their main career at 60-something and then, after taking up another interest, they finally stop working at 80-something and say, “Well, now I really am going to stop!” PM: If we could harness all that “active wisdom,” it could change the world. MCB: Why don’t we say “release” and not “harness.” The wisdom is there, but sometimes it is wasted. The assumption that is made about old people by politicians, for example, is that they are only concerned about themselves, their rights, their benefits. If you are helpless and sick and in pain, you are pretty likely to be focused on your own situation, but if you are energetic and in decent health and not impoverished it doesn’t follow that you are self-obsessed. PM: It might even follow that you have a particular investment or sense of the future. MCB: None of us is going to live forever, but our sense of the future is based on our involvement with young people, especially grandchildren and great-grandchildren. I think people in their eighties care a lot about what the world is going to be like, because they look at their grandchildren and great-grandchildren and they say, “What world will this child live in?” PM: Much of your writing has been autobiographical and within that category you’ve written with great sensitivity about your famous parents in essays as well as your book, With a Daughter’s Eye: A Memoir of Margaret Mead and Gregory Bateson. Your essay on your father’s death entitled “Six Days of Dying” is particularly moving. In what way was his death a learning experience for you? MCB: One of the things that I feel strongly about is that death is a part of life and simply extending life should not be our primary value. Our value should be on living well, living creatively, instead of just addi- tional time. What we need to do is work hard to give those who are born the possibility of good lives and, in our own way, come to terms with the reality of death and be ready for it eventually. PM: In Willing to Learn, you pull together a number of essays and arti- cles written over many years. What was it like to bring all of that together? MCB: I was looking over a lifetime’s work, really, with a lot of apparent discontinuity. The connecting threads surprised and interested me, and as I reread things that I wrote many years ago, I found the beginnings of ideas that I am working with now and saw how those interests have played out over time and developed. PM: What are you going to write about next? MCB: I am thinking of using the technique of Composing a Life to write about people in Adulthood II. That seems to be the logical next step. PM: That is a book I will want to read. Thank you for your wisdom. Guest Interview CONTINUED FROM PAGE 9 One of the things that needs to be done is to make it easier for retired people to get work that fits their lives. ...................... n 11 . . . . . . The Essence of Humanism and the Art of Compromise: 2006 Peace Proposal Daisaku Ikeda opens his 2006 Peace Proposal, Towards a New Era of the People, The Noble Path to Peace, by referring to the crises facing humankind and the many shocking catastrophes of 2005: Hurricane Katrina, the Kashmir earthquake, continuing drought in West Africa, the “indiscriminate violence” of terrorist attacks worldwide, and the ongoing losses to intolerance, hate crimes, and preventable illnesses. He also notes that 2005 marked the 60th anniversary of the end of WWII, the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the creation of the United Nations. Observing how naked individualism has “stripped” us of “bonds and ties of family… community… religious and other affiliations; and of nature itself,” Ikeda quotes environmentalist Bill McKibben when he writes, “We stand on the edge of disappear- ing even as individuals.” Recognizing that the state of the world can cause “creeping and unnamable anxiety” Dr. Ikeda warns that quick, super- ficial remedies “could easily backfire, plunging people into an even deeper state of helplessness and despair,” and offers the environmental movement’s admonition, “Think globally and act locally.” Dr. Ikeda finds a wonderful model of this approach in the life and writings of sixteenth-century French essayist and humanist Michel de Montaigne who, “through an uncompromising pursuit of the humanity of a single individual—himself—uncovered a universal vision of all humankind.” Long before the concept of “freedom of religion had been articulated,” Montaigne penned an essay entitled “Freedom of Conscience.” Dr. Ikeda compares this and other essays by Montaigne to “the lotus flower whose pure white blooms emerge from the depth of the muddy waters.” Montaigne’s work illustrates the “very essence of humanism” and encourages Dr. Ikeda’s hopes for progress among Asian nations despite continuing divisions “colored by the conflicts and tensions of the Cold War.” He expresses his hope that Asia might be inspired by the unifying model of the European Community, now almost a half-century old, and might learn from Montaigne “the art of compromise and finding middle ground where unrealistically high expectations can lead to failure.” This, Dr. Ikeda believes, will help them “see beyond the limits of national interest and make a concerted effort to build a community of nations free from the reality or threat of war.” Above: Members of the UN Club of Soka University Japan enjoyed an afternoon at the BRC. Soka University UN Club Visits BRC In early February, an internationalyouth group from Soka University Japan visited the BRC. The goal of the annual trip of the Soka University UN Club is for students to learn more about the United Nations and meet with leaders in the United States to explore how they can contribute to peace. The students participated in an exchange with BRC staff and execu- tive director Virginia Benson to learn about the history and programs of the Center. Their eagerness to find their own mission in life and desire to work for world peace was evident during the question and answer session. Following their time in Cambridge, the club traveled to the United Nations headquarters in New York to meet with Ambassador Chowdhury and other UN representatives. NEWS & NOTES 12 . . . . . . This ancient lineage model also operates in the Soka Gakkai, although in a thoroughly modernized form that evolved over the course of decades. It operates most conspicuously in the relationships among the three presidents—Tsunesboro Makiguchi (1870-1944), Josei Toda (1900- 1958), and Daisaku Ikeda today. Makiguchi built the Gakkai on a hybrid foundation, part modern liberal arts pedagogy, part ancient Buddhism of the Lotus Sutra. He poured his wisdom and experience into Toda who reciprocated with loyalty and gratitude and, eventually, took up the mantle of leadership during the American Occupation of Japan (1945-1952). Working from Makiguchi’s legacy, Toda recast the movement to address the needs of people during Japan’s post-war recon- struction. Like his mentor before him, he devoted himself to his disciple, the young Ikeda. When Ikeda succeeded Toda in 1958, he worked out of the two legacies bequeathed to him to address the needs of a globalizing age in which Japan grew prosperous and took its place among the leading nations of the world. As I interviewed Gakkai pioneers who knew the early presidents, I began to understand that the mentor-disciple relationship is highly effective not only as a spiritual connection but as a model of institutional organization. Its trans-generational bond based on shared wisdom, affection, loyalty, and respect fosters continuity even as it allows for change. This continuity of understanding enabled each president to address challenges that arose in very different historical circumstances. So vital are these relationships that I often had to remind myself that Makiguchi and Ikeda never knew each other, a fact easily overlooked because the former is so powerful a presence in the latter’s writing and rhetoric. T he research and writing of Encountering the Dharma involved wrestling with my understanding of the mentor-disciple relationship and what it means to Soka Gakkai members in the world today. The mentor-disciple relation- ship is grounded in the idea of a teaching lineage, an Asian institution based on the transmission of spiritual wisdom from teacher to disciple. Western religions, in contrast, tend to be congregational in form, a model of community expressed in the ideas of the people of Israel, the Christian church, and the ummah of Islam. More specifically, the lineage model has ancient roots in India, where the guru (teacher) and shishya (disciple) have long been a component of edu- cation, whether in religion, philosophy, music, or the arts. In Hinduism, the guru teaches the shishya both learned wisdom and lived experience. In exchange, the disciple is expected CONTINUED FROM PAGE 1 MENTOR AND DISCIPLE: The Globalization of an Ancient Idea But the mentor-disciple relationship also operates far more broadly insofar as millions of people have chosen to think of themselves as disciples of one or another of the three presi- dents. In this perspective, the Asian lineage model begins to take on the look of the western congregation because the Gakkai’s teacher-presi- dent, often called sensei (teacher), is the hub of the relationships that form both a mass movement and numerous, smaller congregations or communities. The latter are typically based on face-to-face relationships among members in local centers and in arts and professional groups, the formation of which was part of a modernization process fostered by Ikeda under Toda and during his own lengthy administration. This mentor-disciple plus intentional community arrangement now oper- ates on a global scale. But it is Gakkai members’ love for Ikeda—a man whom many of them have never met—that forms the bond that has, for more than three decades, held the movement together. The power of the relationship between Ikeda and his disciples is something those outside the movement do not understand and often find problematic. “Is the affection Gakkai members have for their leader to be trusted?” people have asked me. “Why are they are so fond of quoting Ikeda?” As I observed the movement up close for a number of years, I began to see that the inner quality of this bond is suggested by the Gakkai’s special use of the word “mentor,” which is standard usage in English to refer to Ikeda in his role as leader and teacher. Although related to guru or master, the meaning of mentor is several steps removed. It lacks a sense of a formal, hierarchical relationship; it has a secular ring and no mystical overtones. It presupposes Experiencing the efficacy of Buddhist Humanism and spreading it to others embodies the essence of the mentor-disciple relationship. to pursue his (or her) education with diligence and to give gratitude and loyalty to the teacher. This relationship is formalized with rituals that strengthen the guru-shishya bond, which often takes the form of a student’s devotion to a spiritual master. This basic arrange- ment was taken up into Buddhism and spread throughout Asia. The teacher is still honored today in Theravada Buddhism as a source of inspiration and guidance to students who walk the eight-fold path. It plays a critical role in the practice of Vajrayana in Tibet and is central to the Zen con- cept of mind-to-mind transmission. f reading e men- 13 . . . . . . freedom of choice, which is an ideal at the heart of modernity. Princeton University WordNet defines mentor as “wise and trusted guide and advisor.” “To mentor,” means to “serve as a teacher or trusted counselor,” an apt description of Ikeda who understands his role in terms of service to his disciples. “Mentor” and “mentoring” are also in wide use today in the academic and business communities, where knowledge and experience are often passed on from professor to student or veteran entrepreneur to protégé in a relationship that is professional, but often marked by a degree of mutual affection. But still, Gakkai members mean something more than secular mentor- ing when they talk of the relation- ships between Ikeda and his disciples around the world. In numerous inter- views, Gakkai members have described for me how Ikeda has given them intimate attention—a personal letter sent during hard times, a small gift given as an encouragement, an impromptu conversation with a young student at Soka University during one of Ikeda’s visits. More importantly, people in Japan, Singapore, the U.S., and Brazil often spoke to me of how Ikeda taught them to cultivate lives well-lived both through his writing and by his example. Ikeda’s Buddhist Humanism had transformed them by enabling them to restore their ideals, find inner strength, or develop self- discipline. Robert Epp, a translator and Japan scholar, describes Ikeda as speaking to people who may find themselves adrift in the modern world, in search of a clear direction or moral purpose in the midst of the moral chaos of consumer society. A successful man but of very modest origins, Ikeda has not distanced himself from his roots and retains a fundamental trust in the instincts of working people. Calling him a “cultural exorcist,” Epp sees Ikeda as teaching a Buddhism that is also a “redemptive therapy,” an empowering practice that enables people to make their way through the isolation and alienation of urban living. A balanced blend of idealism and pragmatism, Buddhist Humanism provides members with “a meaningful picture of the world and a relevant plan of action to deal with it.” It enables people to act in society rather than to withdraw from it, to find self-esteem and spiritual worth by discovering a meaningful role in the world in the context of a caring community. Such an interpretation of Ikeda’s mentoring also clarifies what it means to be a disciple, which WordNet defines “as someone who believes and helps to spread the doctrine of another.” Time and again, Gakkai members have told me how Buddhist Humanism not only helped them but led to their wanting to help others, whether through community service, peacework, education, the arts, or by sharing Ikeda’s teaching. Experiencing the efficacy of Buddhist Humanism and spreading it to others embodies the essence of the mentor-disciple relationship. It is the living force in the trans-generational bond between the three presidents and the engine behind the growth of the movement from its origins in war-time Japan into a worldwide movement. It is, moreover, the dynamic energy within a religious institution that reaches back into Asian antiquity for its basic form, but draws upon global modernity to express its spirit. Richard Hughes Seager Encountering the Dharma R ichard Seager is anAssociate Professor of Religion at Hamilton College who knows his way around Buddhism in America, which happens to be the title of a book he wrote a few years ago. But with the publication of his latest work, he is likely to become best known as the Great Gaijin, the Japanese word for “foreigner.” Encountering the Dharma: Daisaku Ikeda, Soka Gakkai, and the Globalization of Buddhist Humanism is an exploration of the Soka Gakkai and its history, a project Seager embarked on with the support of the Boston Research Center in 2001. With an engaging narrative style, Seager informs and inspires the reader through his global exploration of this dynamic lay organization that has grown from a few thousand to over 12 million since the 1940s. Written in the shadow of grief as he adapted to the tragic loss of his wife, Seager’s experiences in Japan, Singapore, and South America led him to memorable people of all ages whose faith and optimism energized his soul. As a self-proclaimed skeptic surrounded by joyful believers, Seager’s work goes to the heart of the role of faith in our world today. To order, please contact the University of California Press at www.ucpress.edu. To learn more, please check out the Book Talk page at www.brc21.org/books_booktalk.html. 14 . . . . . . Enduring Visions of the Philosophy and Practice of Education The Center is pleased to announce that in the springof 2006, the chapters for Enduring Visions of the Philosophy and Practice of Education (working title), edited by David T. Hansen of Teachers College, Columbia University, were completed. With publication anticipated in 2007, this volume explores the life, work, and legacy of ten twentieth-century philosophers of education. “This book confirms that educational ideas emerge in response to particular conditions, experiences, problems, fears, and hopes,” Hansen said. “Ideas have consequences and individual human beings do make a difference in the course of events.” The chapters included are as follows: • Introduction: David Hansen, Teachers College, Columbia University • Rabindranath Tagore and Creative Education: Kathleen O’Connell, University of Toronto • Peace as a Premise for Learning: Maria Montessori: Jennifer Whitcomb, University of Colorado, and Jacqueline Cossentino, University of Maryland • Tsunesaburo Makiguchi and Value Creation: Andrew Gebert, Waseda University, and Monte Joffee, The Renaissance School, NYC • Jane Addams and Education as Personal and Civic Growth: Charlene Haddock Seigfried, Purdue University • Artful Curriculum, Evaluation, and Instruction: Lessons from Rudolf Steiner and Waldorf Education: Bruce Uhrmacher, University of Colorado • Paulo Freire’s Politics and Pedagogy: Stephen M. Fishman and Lucille McCarthy, University of NC (Charlotte) and University of Maryland Baltimore County • Tao Xingzhi and Modernization through Mass Education in China: Zhang Kaiyuan and Wang Weijia, Central China Normal University • W.E.B. Du Bois and an Education for Democratic Creativity: Rodino Anderson, Teachers College • Albert Schweitzer: Reverence for Life as a Model of Teaching and Learning: A.G. Rud, Purdue University • John Dewey and the Quest for Meaning: David Hansen, Teachers College, Columbia University AERA Symposium Hosted by the BRC An international symposium entitled Four EnduringPhilosophies of Education and the Challenges Facing Teachers Today was hosted by the Boston Research Center for the 21st Century at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association in April. The event, which was chaired by Doris Santoro Gómez, Bowdoin College, included speakers on several of the philosophers covered in the Center’s forthcoming book. Papers were presented on Maria Montessori, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, Rabindranath Tagore, and John Dewey. Presenters highlighted aspects of these figures’ primary educational and ethical teachings, and connected them to current educational challenges and predicaments. Ann Diller of the University of New Hampshire served as discussant. For an in-depth summary of the AERA Symposium, go to www.brc21.org/resources.html. BOOK TALK I N M E M O R I A M Bradley P. Dean February 4, 1954 — January 14, 2006 • Independent Scholar • Editor, Thoreau Society Bulletin, and Henry David Thoreau’s The Dispersion of Seeds (1993),Wild Fruits (2000), Letters to a Spiritual Seeker (2004), and Indian Notebooks (unfinished) • University Lecturer: Eastern Washington University, University of Connecticut, Rhode Island College, East Carolina University, and Indiana University • Director, Media Center, Thoreau Institute Brad brought his boundless love of life and engagement to our Inaugural Ikeda Forum for Intercultural Dialogue in October 2004 where he quoted lines of Thoreau from Wild Fruits: All Nature is doing her best each moment to make us well. She exists for no other end. Do not resist her. n 15 . . . . . . Mission Statement The Boston Research Center for the 21st Century (BRC) is an international peace institute. The Center was founded in 1993 by Daisaku Ikeda, a peace activist and president of Soka Gakkai International (SGI), one of the most dynamic and diverse Buddhist organizations in the world. Inspired by the SGI’s philosophy of value creation (Soka), the BRC works to build cultures of peace through dialogue and education. Our dialogue programs include public forums, scholarly seminars, and peacemaking circles that are diverse and intergenerational. Through these programs, schol- ars and activists are able to forge unexpected connections, refresh their sense of purpose, and learn from each other in a spirit of camaraderie. The overarching goal of these gatherings is to contribute to a shift in U.S. culture from isolation, violence, and war to interconnectedness, nonviolence, and peace. The BRC also works to encourage the peaceful aspirations of young people through multi-author books that are published by academic presses. Our titles, such as Buddhist Peacework, Subverting Hatred, Subverting Greed, and Educating Citizens for Global Awareness, introduce humanistic values and concerns that rarely make it into the typical curricu- lum. So far, they’ve been used as supplemental texts in over 325 college and university courses in the United States, Canada, and Japan. Receive the BRC Newsletter Sooner at www.brc21.org If you prefer the electronic .pdf version to receiving the printed version via snail mail, please send us your email address at pubs@brc21.org. We’ll delete your name from the mailing list and, instead, send a reminder as each newsletter becomes available online. Printed on recycled paper EDITOR’S NOTE ...................... How to Reach Us We welcome your advice, ideas, and comments, as well as requests for complimentary examination copies of our books. Individual staff mem- bers can be reached by calling 617- 491-1090 or via fax at 617-491-1169. Email addresses are listed below: Masao Yokota, President myokota@brc21.org Virginia Benson, Executive Director vbenson@brc21.org Shirley Chandl, Office Manager schandl@brc21.org Masashiro Hagiya, Administrative and Financial Manager mhagiya@brc21.org James McCrea, Publications Assistant pubassist@brc21.org Kevin Maher, Research Assistant kmaher@brc21.org Patti M. Marxsen, Publications Manager pmarxsen@brc21.org Beth Zimmerman, Events Manager bzimmerman@brc21.org General Email Address: center@brc21.org Web site: www.brc21.org Newsletter Editor: Patti M. Marxsen Contributors: Virginia Benson, Helen Casey, James McCrea, Kevin Maher, Kathleen O’Connell, Richard Hughes Seager, Sarah Wider Photo Credits: BRC Staff; Marilyn Humphries; Emerson Photo: Joel Myerson Collection of Nineteenth- Century American Literature, Thomas Cooper Library, University of South Carolina; Schweitzer Archives (Gunsbach); Donna Tambascio, Wellesley Centers for Women Printing Services: Atlantic Printing, Needham, www.atlanticprinting.com As we think about the diversity of global society, we often forget that the world encompasses several gen- erations living simultaneously on one planet. With Living Legacies and Intergenerational Creativity as over-arching themes, we wanted to explore the ways in which voices from the past remain relevant today. A perfect example emerged with Shulamith Koenig’s Eleanor Roosevelt Lecture on Global Vision. Now, more than ever, the UN Declaration of Human Rights reminds us what it means to live together in peace. We also wanted to ask a few questions about aging. And so we invited cultural anthro- pologist Mary Catherine Bateson to share her perspective on a new phase of life, a period she calls Active Wisdom. Youth carries its own wisdom, as we realized when the Soka University of Japan UN Club visited the Center. Their energy, idealism, and eagerness to learn were palpable and inspiring. Not surprisingly, these same qualities have fueled many influential lives; we highlight two of them in this issue: Rabindranath Tagore and Albert Schweitzer, both Nobel Laureates whose turning points came early. Richard Hughes Seager takes our inquiry one step further with his article on the mentor/disciple relationship, a concept central to Asian culture. As each generation leaves behind a legacy, each new generation recreates the world out of past and present knowledge. The synthesis is wisdom. Sincerely, Patti M. Marxsen Boston Research Center for the 21st Century Nonprofit Org. U.S. Postage PAID Boston, MA Permit No. 51479 396 Harvard Street Cambridge, MA 02138-3924 phone: 617-491-1090 fax: 617-491-1169 email: center@brc21.org website: www.brc21.org Please let us know… If the information on your mailing label is incorrect or you wish to be removed from our mailing list. Thanks! BRC PUBLICATIONS BRC books have been adopted for use in over 325 courses at 160 U.S. colleges and universities. Professors, please contact the Center to request a complimentary examination copy of any BRC book you might be considering for course use, or go to www.brc21.org/books_exam.html. Address Service Requested Please contact the BRC Publications Department at 617-491-1090 or email us at pubs@brc21.org to order: Towards a New Era of the People, The Noble Path to Peace Daisaku Ikeda’s 2006 Peace Proposal No charge To purchase copies of our most recent titles, please note the websites and toll free phone numbers below: Ikeda Forum Report 2005 “Talking Back” to Whitman: Poetry Matters Fee: $5.00 including S&H within the contiguous U.S. Buddhist Peacework can be purchased from Wisdom Publications by calling 1-800-272-4050 or by visiting www.wisdompubs.org. Educating Citizens for Global Awareness can be purchased from Teachers College Press by calling 1-800-575-6566 or by visiting the store on their website at www.tcpress.com. International customers, please check the website for ordering instructions. Subverting Greed and Subverting Hatred can be purchased from Orbis Books. Visit their website at www.orbisbooks.com or call 1-800-258-5838. ...................... 
work_rkdqi5idkvgslpewxvvuk342aa	----	ANNOTATIONS went to an Institute where, under an injection of some local anaesthetic, large pieces of skin were removed from both the upper and lower eyelids. Collodion dressings were applied, and the patient sent home. She suffered intense pain and swelling of the eyelids and conjunctiva, and, according to her own account, one of them became septic. We have also heard of a case in which the palpebral aperture had been enlarged by an external canthotomy performed for " small eyes." Apparently there is nothing in the British law which prevents such operations being performed by unqualified practitioners, unless a- fatality occurs. This was instanced some years ago when some unqualified Indian oculists were brought before the courts for removing portions of the eyelids and conjunctiva, and were acquitted. It would be of service if ophthalmic surgeons would collect similar cases so that some represe-ntation could be made with regard to this unqualified practice which seems to be on the increase. Transactions of the Ophthalmological Society Special interest attaches to the Transactions of the Ophthalmo- logical Society of the United Kingdom, Vol. XXXVI, recently issued to members, for not only does it contain an account of the 1918 Congress of the Society but also of the meetings of two of the four affiliated societies, namely, the Oxford Ophthalmological Congress and the Midland Ophthalmological Society. Among the contributions of the affiliated societies the Doyne Memorial Lecture on " Ophthalmology and the War," by Sir William Collins, should be mentioned. It recalls vividly the memory of one whose name is dear to many of us, the late Robert Walter Doyne, founder of the Oxford Congress, and of much besides. For instance, to him is owing the foundation of the Oxford Eye Hospital and the inception of a diploma of ophthalmology in the University of Oxford. These were but the preliminary steps towards a rnore ambitious dream which he never lived to see fulfilled, which was the rendering of Oxford a centre of ophthalmology for the British Isles. Sir William Collins in speaking of him quotes the fine saying of Ralph Waldo Emerson, " An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man," and never was that truer than in the case of our colleague. The affiliation movement, carried out largely by the then President of the Ophthalmological Society, has our warmest approval, more especially at a time such as this when union is truly strength. Under this scheme the autonomy of the individual society is not aftected, but an account of its work will appear in the Transactions. This is an advantage to those societies which have not in the past published a separate volume, as well as to those who belong exclusively to the 83 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://b jo .b m j.co m / B r J O p h th a lm o l: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b jo .3 .2 .8 3 o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 1 9 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://bjo.bmj.com/ 84 THE BRITISH JOURNAL OF OPHTHALMOLOGY parent society, who will now enjoy the privilege of reading for themselves an account of the scientific work carried on by the other bodies. The National Physical Laboratory It is but fitting that in a technical journal such as this notice should be paid to the important work on optics that is done by the National Physical Laboratory at Teddington, of which the report for the year 1917-18 is before us. Since the outbreak of war, heavy demands upon the Optics Division of the Laboratory have been made by the testing of instruments, such as gun-sights and look- out telescopes and binoculars, and sextants, and materiaf such as optical glass. The number of specimens of glass examined for refractive purposes has risen largely above last year's total. The tests are made on a Pulfrich refractometer, and experience shows that a properly constructed instrument of that type used under suitable conditions gives results only attainable by most other methods with the expenditure of much more time and trouble. There have been several requests for the examination for optical properties of specimens of glass not specially prepared for the purpose, and in such cases the tests were carried out by an immersion method. The method has proved adequate to enable the particular glass to be identified, although the accuracy has been less than that which is secured when suitably prepared specimens are tested. The Division has done a considerable amount of work dealing with optical calculations, chiefly concerned with economizing the time involved in calculations, either by extracting more complete information from rays traced through a system or by substituting a definite algebraic system of operations for tentative ray tracing in cases where the algebraic method has proved to be applicable as a final method of calculation. The algebraic methods aim at replacing the nears of experience required in the other system by a definite course of operations which will, within the field of their applicability, lead to a satisfactory solution of the problem. A considerable part of the additional buildings now under construction at Teddington will provide accommodation for the testing of glass volumetric apparatus, most of which was formerly obtained from Germany. As it is now made in this country, the Committee of the Research Department dealing with the matter is anxious that the standardization of such glassware should be undertaken by the Laboratory. Nerve Fibres of the Living Cornea In the Lancet for November 23, 1918, will be found a short abstract of an article by J. Strebel, of Lucerne, Correspondenzbl. fiir o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://b jo .b m j.co m / B r J O p h th a lm o l: first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /b jo .3 .2 .8 3 o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 1 9 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://bjo.bmj.com/ 
work_rnnvrpu7pjam3jkicmtdec2l3m	----	Miranda, 20 | 2020 Miranda Revue pluridisciplinaire du monde anglophone / Multidisciplinary peer-reviewed journal on the English- speaking world  20 | 2020 Staging American Nights Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la nuit aux Amériques David Bousquet, Nathalie Galland, Candice Lemaire, Marine Paquereau et Judite Rodrigues Édition électronique URL : http://journals.openedition.org/miranda/24086 DOI : 10.4000/miranda.24086 ISSN : 2108-6559 Éditeur Université Toulouse - Jean Jaurès Référence électronique David Bousquet, Nathalie Galland, Candice Lemaire, Marine Paquereau et Judite Rodrigues, « Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la nuit aux Amériques », Miranda [En ligne], 20 | 2020, mis en ligne le 02 avril 2020, consulté le 16 février 2021. URL : http:// journals.openedition.org/miranda/24086 ; DOI : https://doi.org/10.4000/miranda.24086 Ce document a été généré automatiquement le 16 février 2021. Miranda is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org http://journals.openedition.org/miranda/24086 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la nuit aux Amériques David Bousquet, Nathalie Galland, Candice Lemaire, Marine Paquereau et Judite Rodrigues 1 Aux rêveurs noctambules de tout temps, aux « dériveurs »1 nocturnes, la nuit est réservoir de symboles, éveil d’un monde intérieur, souvenirs et obsessions intimes, révélation de l’inconscient, autre jubilation dionysiaque. Rêve d’encre aussi, veille des créateurs dans la nuit théophanique quand mystique de la nature et mystique intime s’y lovent : c’est la nuit obscure de St-Jean de la Croix, ténèbres de l’âme abandonnée, et la Sainte pénombre des pré-romantiques et romantiques allemands (Goëthe, Hölderlin, Novalis…) qui porte au sublime. Désirée, désirante, dialectique en clair-obscur, la nuit se lie à l’empreinte lumineuse, éclat crépusculaire des nuances pourpres2 et arcs-en-ciel noirs de Jean Paul, ainsi qu’à la lumière artificielle : flash, néon, filtration ou halo, éclairage des projecteurs prolongeant celui des astres. On la perçoit mais elle nous absorbe et parfois nous regarde, tel l’inquiétant jardín de ojos d’Octavio Paz. 2 « Choc noir »3 qui perturbe les processus rationnels et bouleverse la perception, elle défait toute certitude, toute clôture, invite à l’effraction de l’ouvert, à la violence de l’informe. Cette nuit engouffre à son tour chaque partie du monde, dans le ballet circulatoire des astres, lissant dans l’obscur la référentialité. La nuit aux Amériques, aussi, est-elle d’abord substance enveloppante4, qui invite d’autres constellations de l’imagination en venant infléchir le visible et liquider les frontières. 3 À la fois toile de sce◌́nographies immersives et puissance d’ombres traversées, ces nuits américaines sont ici explorées dans la diversité des enjeux, des esthétiques et des langues qui les portent. Issus du colloque international Staging American Nights, Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la nuit aux Amériques organisé en mars 2019 par les axes « Intime » et « Image et critique » du Centre Interlangues (Texte-Image- Langage) — EA 4182 de l’Université de Bourgogne, dans le cadre du cycle Staging Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 1 America, les neuf articles réunis ici disent le propre de la nuit dans les œuvres poétiques et picturales d’artistes américains (anglophones et hispanophones) d’aujourd’hui. 4 À partir d’une perspective multilingue et transdisciplinaire, ces travaux explorent ainsi les territoires et imaginaires de la nuit, tout un régime nocturne d’images et de mots qui se déclinent comme art(s) de l’obscur en prise avec les représentations de l’intimité. Ces textes qui prolongent les travaux critiques du séminaire « L’intime », aspirent au- delà à contribuer à la connaissance d’une socio-poétique de la nuit non circonscrite à l’envers du jour mais ouverte aux multiples « leçons de la nocturnité ». 5 C’est parce qu’une définition astronomique s’avère insuffisante à dire la richesse, la complexité de la nuit et ses effets et irradiations, que le concept de « nocturnité » s’impose aujourd’hui dans les travaux critiques. Le terme dit d’abord l’intense qualité du nocturne5, mais s’applique aussi à l’ensemble des éléments qui peuvent se produire de jour et dont les caractéristiques relèvent de la nuit6. 6 Si la nuit a toujours constitué une source d’inspiration pour l’art, elle fait pourtant encore office de terra incognita aux confins de la vacuité mais « vivante et vorace »7, objet polymorphe et dérivant, semblant résister à l’attention théorique diverse voire éclatée qui lui est consacrée. Du chaos antique dont elle émerge et ses représentations cosmogoniques ancestrales8, à l’explosion lumineuse du tournant de la Modernité et le noctambulisme festif d’un nouveau « mode d’être à la ville »9, elle interroge sans cesse notre condition et notre manière d’habiter l’espace. Aussi, se trouve-t-elle toujours au cœur des débats scientifiques, sociopolitiques et écologiques10 d’aujourd’hui qui en saisissent les normes éthiques, l’imaginaire des lieux et des temporalités, l’ontologie des êtres qui l’habitent, ses intrusions dans le jour, ou à l’inverse la nocturnisation d’activités urbaines vers la nuit blanche, les formes de réappropriation sociale du nocturne, le remodelage des centres urbains et autres fabriques de la nuit, valeurs esthétiques, bougé tremblé du monde, ombres, figures… De ces nouvelles configurations et problématiques, l’espace américain ne fait pas l’économie. La nuit aux Amériques est aussi ouvroir de formes et de sens. Quelques voix continentales, poétiques, rythmiques, musicales, du jazz des premières heures du Harlem Renaissance à la scène théâtrale contemporaine, mais aussi des images, des regards, de la pellicule aimantée par la nuit, montrent ici l’actualité des préoccupations artistiques et culturelles pour les expressions nocturnes, le « chromatisme nuital », « invu »11, luisance et profondeur en divers points du continent. 7 Dans la nuit, « noir de l’invisible lieu »12, les plis intimes se réinventent. La nuit est d’abord un « mode d’accès privilégié à l’intériorité du sujet »13, quête du noir14 dans la découpe de la chambre, qui permet repli sur soi, « temps stupéfié » de douloureuses ténèbres (on pensera avec Dominique Rabaté au Roubaud endeuillé de Quelque chose noir15) ou réconfortante clôture d’un monde. Mais l’intime se consume autrement en puissance de l’éros et du fantasme : « plaisirs du ventre »16, intimité des substances alors, lieu du toucher et émerveillement des corps. L’élan du geste créateur, profondément singulier, au plus près de soi fait ainsi affleurer les failles grinçantes du sensible aux heures crépusculaires, la liminalité d’intermondes et autres entre-deux. La nuit s’écoute, (se) dévoile, bouscule. 8 Qu’elle soit intime ou bien cosmique, touchant aux antipodes du tout proche et du lointain infini, la nuit rassemble, étirée et profonde, les formes du faire artistique et culturel. Et cette vertu souvent présente à l’œuvre d’art n’a de cesse de faire naviguer et dialoguer des traditions culturelles, des poétiques, des dispositifs et autres gestes Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 2 plastiques d’un univers à l’autre. Comme toile immatérielle, elle diffuse, infuse partout, invite aux passerelles, au divers, aux flux polysémiques. On ne sera pas surpris, aussi, de voir surgir au détour d’un vers, dans l’embrasure de la nuit de Mexico, celle des Night Windows d’Hopper, de voir jouer sur fond nocturne des palimpsestes cinéphiles, d’entendre dans la rythmique du Red Power les accents du Harlem Renaissance. La nuit avant tout est libertaire, circulatoire, sonore. C’est l’argument bien connu de Bachelard citant Lawrence pour qui « l’oreille révèle des transcendances tout au-delà de ce qu’on peut toucher et voir […]. L’oreille peut entendre plus profondément que les yeux ne peuvent voir. L’oreille est alors le sens de la nuit »17. L’obscur, amplification du bruit, résonance, « dynamisation paroxystique de toute agitation. La noirceur, c’est l’activité même, et toute une infinité de mouvements est déclenchée par l’illimitation des ténèbres »18. 9 Que fait dès lors la nuit à l’œuvre ? À quelles nouvelles architectures de la sensation convie-t-elle ? Et que dit la nuit des espaces américains, mégapoles cosmopolites endormies et désertes, routes crépusculaires traçant vers l’ouest, rumeurs des villes, signe des luttes dans la révolution des astres ? Que dit-elle encore des corps rebelles et insurgés, corps nomades aimants, mémoriels, furtifs ? Comme mode nouveau de la sensibilité et de la présence au monde, qu’imprègne la nuit dans l’objet et le geste poétique, pictural ou filmique ? Quelles métamorphoses, quels échos, quels vertiges produit-elle ? Quels mondes fait-elle se lever ? 10 À la sécrétion du noir et ce qu’il diffuse d’obscurité, répond la création d’esthétiques de la nuit, la possibilité d’une « esthétique noire »19 porteuse du sentiment nocturne… Que fait alors l’œuvre à la nuit ? Quelles sont ces fabriques du nocturne américain ? Quelles constructions, quelles théâtralisations pour ces ordres de la nuit ? Depuis la page ou l’image picturale ou filmique, comment et pourquoi faire nuit ? 11 Ouvrir des fenêtres sur l’obscur, embrasures vers la profondeur, au-dedans et au- dehors… C’est la réponse inaugurale que propose Alain Montandon aux questionnements de la nuit. Dans une exploration large portée par la perspective comparatiste qui réunit ici littérature, peinture, cinéma et musique, il s’attache à la « duplicité » de la nuit, tour à tour harmonieuse, maternelle, profonde, aux confins de l’abîme pourtant, suspendue dans le vide et l’absence, incommunicable. À partir d’une re ́flexion sur l’intimite ́ au fil du romantisme et sur la subjectivite ́ exacerbée des nuits citadines mortifères et aliénantes de l’époque industrielle, il s’attache notamment à L’arbre de nuit, une nouvelle de Truman Capote, ainsi qu’au motif singulier de la fene ̂tre et à ses nombreux traitements dans le croisement des arts. Rectangle de nuit ouvert sur l’impénétrable : là, le travail d’Edward Hopper est incontournable, qui porte à leurs limites intimité et identité. 12 L’oreille toutefois est aussi à la nuit. Et le rectangle du poème matière nocturne, espace de circulation et de porosité d’images faites pour être dites ou chantées, circulation de sens et sensations, matière vibrante des sons. Une nuit pour l’oreille, connective et syncrétique, capable de fondre mots, rythmes, lignes musicales distinctes : c’est cette fenêtre sur la nuit américaine de la poésie jazz qu’entrebâille Audrey Goodman. En explorant ses lieux d’émergence et en analysant les acceptions de l’obscurité qui lui sont liées, les connexions profondes et peut-être inattendues entre les traditions musicales des artistes afro-américains et amérindiens se révèlent. Alors que la musique populaire est depuis longtemps reconnue comme essentielle au mouvement Black Power et à ses écrivains, le jazz sert aussi de mode de pensée décoloniale aux auteurs du Red Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 3 Power. Des poèmes fondateurs de Langston Hughes aux compositions plus récentes de Yosef Komunyakaa et Joy Harjo, Audrey Goodman montre comment le jazz traverse les frontières ethno-culturelles porté par la puissance symbolique et politique de la nuit, comment se réinvente ainsi le lien entre texte poétique et performance orale. Dans le tissu de la nuit, la poésie jazz ouvre de nouveaux espaces de résistance active, transformant l’enveloppe nocturne en matière du politique. 13 Comme le fond d’obscurité propre à cette politique du poème, il est d’autres promesses nocturnes où se théâtralise le politique : se tenir dans la nuit en attente de l’inflammation de l’aube, tenir la nuit, y résister. Dans ces plis intimes sont libres de germer les luttes au service de l’histoire sociale et politique américaine, des gestes qui mêlent art et résistance, nuit et « esprit de révolte »20. 14 Ainsi en va-t-il du musical nocturne Caroline, or Change (2004), du dramaturge Tony Kushner, sur une musique de la compositrice Jeanine Tesori, que propose d’analyser Anouk Bottero. La pièce, qui s’inscrit dans le contexte de la lutte pour les droits civiques des noirs dans la Louisiane de 1963, met en scène Caroline, domestique noire au service d’une riche famille juive, et ses interactions avec Noah, l’enfant de la famille. La polysémie du titre (Change) joue sur la superposition sémantique mêlant l’anecdote (les pièces de monnaie) à l’idéologie (l’émancipation des Noirs) et distribue ces axes sémantiques dans divers espaces scéniques, favorisant « l’avènement d’un entre-deux spatial et temporel ». Souvent placées sous la figure tutélaire de la lune, « sorte de chœur antique sur fond de blues et de Motown », les scènes nocturnes font entrer en collision la temporalité individuelle des personnages et celle, implacable, des événements politiques et historiques qui ont façonné l’Amérique d’aujourd’hui. 15 Irréductibles à une simple toile de fond, ces productions mettent en scène la nuit comme matière épiphanique, diffraction de lumière noire où se révèlent enjeux politiques, travers et valeurs de la société américaine contemporaine, où se questionne inévitablement aussi la vitalité du rêve américain. C’est précisément le cas des nouvelles nocturnes de Raymond Carver, où l’auteur s’attache à déconstruire les cliche ́s géne ́ralement associés au confort de l’intimite ́ nocturne et du lit conjugal. Marine Paquereau montre ici combien l’insomnie qui frappe certains de ses personnages les renvoie au contraire à leur comple ̀te solitude ainsi qu’à leur condition de mortels. La nuit blanche carvérienne aux jeux de lumières irréelles et autres effets visuels de nuit américaine, se fait ainsi métaphore de l’angoisse de personnages souvent peu expansifs, qui veulent leur part de l’American dream mais se retrouvent pris au pie ̀ge d’un cauchemar existentiel. 16 Avec la série Moonlighting en revanche, c’est le segment nocturne du rêve qui est exploré. Sous l’éclairage lunaire se décline une série de fantasmes où les protagonistes érotisent à l’envi leur relation, jouant à être soi ou multipliant les avatars dans des situations parfois burlesques. Essentielle à l’histoire de la photographie comme du cinéma, la nuit est bien le matériau des métamorphoses et transfigurations. Shannon Wells-Lassagne s’attache ici précisément à la déconstruction de séquences de rêves qui donnent lieu à innovation, qu’elle soit esthétique, narrative, ou bien générique lorsque David et Maddie se retrouvent projetés dans des séquences de comédie musicale ou de film noir où ils sont libres de devenir le couple que la série ne cesse d’éluder. Moonlighting offre ainsi la performance de réalisation du fantasme, codée par le jeu de différents genres et styles, et jouant avec les attentes du spectateur. Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 4 17 De la tradition platonicienne à Emerson ou Thoreau, en passant par la Divine Comédie, le topos de la nuit se saisit par l’opposition nycthémérale. À l’image du couple antagonique que forment rêve et cauchemar, les deux segments du cycle déploient d’une part les sombres ténèbres où règnent obscurité et sommeil, de l’autre l’éclat, l’éveil, la lumière du jour qui dit la proximité du divin. Knight of Cups de Terrence Malick semble assumer cette tradition en réinventant une nuit urbaine contemporaine. Dans le film, et plus largement dans toute la trilogie dont celui-ci constitue le troisième volet, la ville est lieu de perdition, d’exil, d’exode ou◌̀ en l’absence de la nature s’évanouit le sens du divin et de l’ordre du monde. Là tout plonge dans l’obscur. Guilain Chaussard s’attache ici à une se ́quence particulie ̀re du film où, sur fond de La Mort d’Âse du compositeur romantique Edvard Grieg, le héros déambule parmi une sombre fore ̂t de buildings sous des e ́clairages e ́lectriques, qui rappellent en les singeant les espaces verdoyants et la lumière verticale de la nature. Le dispositif reconstruit ainsi le symbolisme d’une nuit et d’un monde modernes qui n’excluent plus la lumière mais la révèlent, l’exhortent, renversant le regard et faisant ainsi de la sortie symbolique de la nuit, un véritable mouvement intérieur. 18 Si le film en mode nocturne déploie dispositifs d’ombre, longs travellings d’obscur, renversements ou rêverie, il le doit avant tout au directeur de la photographie. « Qui pour se rappeler que c’est moins Stanley Kubrick que John Alcott qui permit aux sce ̀nes de nuit de Barry Lyndon (1975) de n’e ̂tre e ́clairées qu’à la bougie ? », interroge Jocelyn Dupont. Et c’est précisément l’un des enjeux de l’étude à laquelle il se consacre : dévoiler mécanique technique, élan esthétique, l’élaboration d’une plastique de la nuit singulière tout en extrayant le directeur de la photographie de l’étrange contagion du noir qui souvent l’efface. À travers des variations sur le paradigme cinématographique de la nuit américaine, c’est le travail du roumain Mihail Malamaire, directeur de la photographie de trois longs-métrages récents de l’emblématique re ́alisateur Francis Ford Coppola — Youth Without Youth (2007), Tetro (2009) et Twixt (2011) — qui est présenté ici. Entre écoulement et séquençages, effets d’effroi en « chiaroscuro ou ̀ fluctuent liminalite ́ et indirection », explorations chromatiques du bleu profond, et autres fabriques de l’obscur, les inquiétantes étrangetés du noir de Malamaire rendent à la nuit sa condition hypnotique. 19 À la solitude du corps tendu vers la lumière depuis l’espace nocturne qui force à la métaphysique, à la divagation ombreuse aux confins du réel, s’agrège ailleurs l’intensité de la présence physique, tactile, sensuelle de la nuit amoureuse. L’un erre dans la ville américaine chez Malick, puis s’en extrait, ou bien dans la forêt insituée de Malamaire ; deux au contraire plongent ensemble dans l’obscur, et s’y ensauvagent chez Segovia. Hypnose de la peau alors, la nuit. C’est la diversité du régime nocturne de l’image poétique que prolonge cette dernière section critique. 20 À la faveur de la nuit, les corps amants se donnent tout entier à la bouche de l’ombre. C’est précisément cette caresse nocturne qu’interroge Judite Rodriguès-Balbuena en explorant les Sonnets votifs du poète hispano-mexicain Tomás Segovia, pièces poétiques « entre ciel et chair », à la mécanique parfaite autant qu’à l’érotique sulfureuse. Par un flamboyant déploiement de l’éros nocturne, c’est le pouvoir cosmogénétique de la nuit qui se dit, tout entier lié à la caresse, à l’étreinte, à la saisie « sangsuelle », contact désirant qui enjoint et rejoint l’obscurité de l’être désiré. L’intimité semble s’épaissir entre les corps, nouée par « l’anxiété de l’alter ». La langue des poèmes chorégraphie, là, des ébats sans ambages : langue à la fois nue et riche, défaite de toute pudeur Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 5 bourgeoise, sans autres oripeaux que désir et plaisir partagés, vers une voluptueuse communion d’outrenuit. Le sonnet dans cette occasion fait de son propre corset rythmique l’espace d’une réinvention libertaire du jouir. 21 Mais il est d’autres désirs de nuit. Comme source, comme traversée du corps vers la langue, outrenoir encore : « matérialité sourde et violente, et tout à la fois “’immatière”’ changeante et vibrante »21. Chez Fabio Morábito, dont on saisira la proximité avec Tomás Segovia—proximité de poète nomade au moins—les poèmes semblent cernés de nuit, pris dans une matière ombreuse propice à l’inflammation poétique, mais toujours bordée d’abîme. S’il y a infusion du noir, c’est que les vers s’originent singulièrement dans l’épaisseur nocturne : encre, rumeurs, silence, solitude, halos d’ailleurs lointains, regards voyeurs ou palpitations intimes d’un bilinguisme labile, sensibilité où s’éveille le geste lyrique. Nathalie Galland convie ainsi à la découverte d’une double nuit à l’œuvre chez le poète italo-mexicain : nuit de l’écriture comme temporalité du geste créateur et nuit d’une langue qui se débat avec sa part d’obscurité. La tension cosmopolite dessine bien à son tour, dans le retournement d’une voix sans cesse reconquise à l’étrangeté, une nouvelle poétique d’outrenuit : la fabrique d’un « poème- effaçonnement », aux résonances acousmatiques qui font se lever, entre deux langues— l’espagnol, l’italien—, tout un monde de nuit. NOTES 1. Alain Montandon, Promenades nocturnes (Paris : L’Harmattan, 2009, 8) 2. « Vert et violet ‘’couleurs d’abîme’’, essence même de la nuit et des ténèbres » pour Gilbert Durand, Les Structures anthropologiques de l’imaginaire (Paris : Dunod, 1992 [1969], 252) 3. Gilbert Durand (97) 4. « La nuit n’est pas un objet devant moi, elle m’enveloppe, elle péne ̀tre par tous mes sens, elle suffoque mes souvenirs, elle efface presque mon identité personnelle […] elle est une profondeur pure sans plans, sans surfaces, sans distance d’elle à moi. », écrit Merleau-Ponty dans Phénome◌́nologie de la perception (Paris : Gallimard, 1945, 328) 5. Chez Valère Novarina par exemple : « LE VEILLEUR. Où en est la nuit? / L’AUTRE VEILLEUR. Loin. Totale. Profonde. Pas encore dans /sa pleine nocturnité. » L’Acte inconnu (Paris : POL, 2007, 11) 6. Depuis une dizaine d’années, le séminaire de recherche « Anthropologie de la nuit », (du Laboratoire d’ethnologie et de sociologie comparative - LESC-CNRS, Nanterre) interroge la « nocturnité » comme espace de captation multisensorielle et polysémique, rappelant que la nuit sociale (entendue comme l’ensemble des pratiques, dispositifs, attitudes, comportements sociaux propres à toutes les sociétés, mais aussi comme l’expression de tensions et conflits de la nuit urbaine, inhibitions, violences et insécurités, périphéries des non-droits) est irréductible à la nuit solaire. http://lesc-cnrs.fr/agenda/445/oublier-le-jour,-jacques-galinier-et-aurore-monod- becquelin?lang=fr (consulté le 28 mars 2020) 7. Gilbert Durand (99) 8. « Cette imagination des ténèbres néfastes semble être une donnée première, doublant l’imagination de la lumière et du jour. Les ténèbres nocturnes constituent le premier symbole du Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 6 http://lesc-cnrs.fr/agenda/445/oublier-le-jour,-jacques-galinier-et-aurore-monod-becquelin?lang=fr http://lesc-cnrs.fr/agenda/445/oublier-le-jour,-jacques-galinier-et-aurore-monod-becquelin?lang=fr temps. Survivance dans nos fêtes nocturnes (St-Jean, Noël et Pâques) des premiers calendriers nocturnes… La nuit noire apparaît donc comme la première substance du temps. Kala (temps) / Kali (noir, sombre), notre ère séculaire Kali-Yuga (l’âge des ténèbres). C’est également pourquoi la nuit est sacralisée. La Nyx hellénique comme la Nôtt scandinave, traînées dans un char par des coursiers sombres, ne sont pas de vaines allégories mais de redoutables réalités mythiques », Durand (98-99) 9. Samuel Challéat, https://media.afastronomie.fr/Protectionduciel/Fichiers/Intervention- CHALLEAT.pdf (consulté le 28 mars 2020) 10. Pour exemples, Luc Gwiazdzinski : La Ville 24 heures sur 24. Regards croisés sur la société en continu (Paris : Editions de l’Aube, 2003); La nuit, dernière frontière de la ville (Paris : Editions de l’Aube, 2005) ; ou encore Nuits d’Europe. Pour des villes accessibles et hospitalières (Belfort : UTBM, 2007). Challéat S., « Sauver la nuit ». Empreinte lumineuse, urbanisme et gouvernance des territoires. Thèse de doctorat de géographie. Université de Bourgogne : 2010 ; Mallet S., « Paysage-lumière et environnement urbain nocturne » in Espaces et Sociétés, n° 14, 2011 (35-52). Challéat S., Lapostolle D., Benos R., « Consider the darkness. From an environmental and sociotechnical controversy to innovation in urban lighting » in Journal of Urban Research, n°11, 2015, http://articulo.revues.org/ 3064 (consulté le 28 mars 2020) 11. Baldine St Girons, « Acte pictural et acte poétique : la nuit entre Delacroix et Baudelaire », Montandon (109) 12. Alain Badiou. Le noir. Éclats d’une non-couleur (Paris : Autrement, 2015, 17) 13. Badiou (111) 14. Gaston Bachelard : « Les grands rêveurs du noir voudront même découvrir [...] ‘’le noir dans la noirceur’’, ce noir aigre qui travaille sous la noirceur émoussée, ce noir de la substance produisant sa couleur d’abîme. Ainsi le poète moderne retrouve l’ancienne rêverie du noir des alchimistes qui cherchaient le noir plus noir que le noir: ‘’Nigrum nigrius nigro’’ » (35-36) 15. Jacques Roubaud, Quelque chose noir (Paris : Gallimard, 1986) : « Quand je me réveille il fait noir : toujours. / Dans les centaines de matins noirs je me suis réfugié. /C’est le noir qui est devenu réel. / […] Quelque chose noir qui se referme. et se boucle. une déposition pure, inaccomplie. » (76) 16. Gilbert Durand (98) 17. Gaston Bachelard, La Terre et les rêveries du repos. Essai sur les images de l’intimité. (Paris : José Corti, [1948] 2004, 194) 18. Gilbert Durand (99) 19. L’expression est d’Isabel Capeloa Gil, « Le voyeur dans la nuit. L’esthétique noire chez Edgar Allan Poe », in Alain Montandon (61) 20. Michaël Fœssel. La Nuit. Vivre sans témoin (Paris : Autrement, 2017), et l’émission qui lui est consacrée : https://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/les-chemins-de-la-philosophie/la-nuit- vivre-sans-temoin-de-michael-foessel (consulté le 28 mars 2020) 21. Cité par Benos R., Challéat S., « “Outrenuit” : penser les ressources environnementales nocturnes avec Pierre Soulages », Carnets du Collectif RENOIR – Ressources Environnementales Nocturnes, tOurisme, territoIRes [carnet de recherche], 30 juillet 2014 in https:// renoir.hypotheses.org/655 (consulté le 28 mars 2020). Voir aussi Pierre Soulages. Outrenoir, Entretiens avec Françoise Jaunin (Lausanne : La Bibliothèque des Arts, 2012) Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 7 http://articulo http://articulo http://articulo http://revues.org/3064 http://revues.org/3064 http://revues.org/3064 http://revues.org/3064 https://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/les-chemins-de-la-philosophie/la-nuit-vivre-sans-temoin-de-michael-foessel https://www.franceculture.fr/emissions/les-chemins-de-la-philosophie/la-nuit-vivre-sans-temoin-de-michael-foessel INDEX Mots-clés : nuit, intime, mise en scène, Amériques, espace, images Keywords : night, intimacy, staging, Americas, space, images AUTEURS DAVID BOUSQUET Maître de conférences Université de Bourgogne Franche-Comté EA 4182, Centre Interlangues TIL David.Bousquet@u-bourgogne.fr NATHALIE GALLAND Maître de conférences Université de Bourgogne Franche-Comté EA 4182, Centre Interlangues TIL nathalieboudon@hotmail.com CANDICE LEMAIRE Maître de conférences Université de Bourgogne Franche-Comté EA 4182, Centre Interlangues TIL Candice.Lemaire@u-bourgogne.fr MARINE PAQUEREAU Professeur agrégée Université de Bourgogne-Franche-Comté EA 4182, Centre Interlangues TIL Marine.Paquereau@u-bourgogne.fr JUDITE RODRIGUES Maître de conférences Université de Bourgogne Franche-Comté EA 4182, Centre Interlangues TIL Judite.Rodrigues-Balbuena@u-bourgogne.fr Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la... Miranda, 20 | 2020 8 Staging American Nights : Représentations de l’intime et mises en scène de la nuit aux Amériques 
work_rw2whkjml5gkpoarry4po4orlu	----	I n s t i t u t e f o r C h r i s t i a n S t u d i e s I n s t i t u t i o n a l R e p o s i t o r y Kuipers, Ronald A. "Turning Memory into Prophecy: Roberto Unger and Paul Ricoeur on the Human Condition Between Past and Future.” The Heythrop Journal, v. 52, no. 2 (2011): 1-10. Used in accordance with publisher’s copyright and self-archiving policies rhttp://www.sherpa.ac.uk/iomeo/issn/0018-1196/1: “Can archive pre-print (ie pre-refereeing)” Dated: March 25, 2015 http://www.sherpa.ac.uk/iomeo/issn/0018-1196/1 T u r n in g M e m o r y in t o P r o p h e c y Roberto Unger and Paul Ricoeur on the Human Condition between Past and Future By Ronald A. Kuipers c/o The Institute for Christian Studies Suite 100, 229 College Street Toronto, Ontario, Canada M5T 1R4 (416)-979-2331, x227 rkuipers@icscanada.edu mailto:rkuipers@icscanada.edu TURNING MEMORY INTO PROPHECY Roberto Unger and Paul Ricoeur on the Human Condition between Past and Future \ . .an excess of history is harmful to life.. . ’ —Friedrich Nietzsche1 ‘I unsettle all things. No facts are to me sacred; none are profane; I simply experiment, an endless seeker with no Past at my back.’ —Ralph Waldo Emerson2 . .is imitating repeating in the sense of copying, or repeating in the sense of calling back to life?’ —Paul Ricoeur3 I. PRAGMATISM AND HISTORY: UNGER’S NIETZSCHEAN STRAIN In The S elf Awakened: Pragmatism Unbound, Roberto Unger consistently maintains that, in any democracy worthy of the name, ‘prophecy’ ought to speak louder than ‘memory’.4 Precisely what Unger means by these two evocative terms is not immediately or manifestly clear, although one could be forgiven for getting the impression that, in making this claim, Unger is offering his unique expression of pragmatism’s uneasy and ambiguous feelings about the past; among other things, this claim constitutes a warning against the temptation of succumbing to an enervating conservatism with which the past always presents us. But beyond offering such a warning, what precisely does Unger mean by ‘memory’ and ‘prophecy’? How does he think we ought to understand the relationship between this prophecy that ought to speak louder than memory, and the past from which, he admits, it always emerges? Finally, are there different ways of considering this relationship than the one Unger offers, ways that also resist the temptations of conservatism, yet while in so doing preserve a more edifying role for memory (not to mention tradition or history)? My purpose in this essay is to explore these questions. Despite his complaint that the tradition of classical pragmatism is constrained, and therefore needs to be ‘unbound’, Unger retains the pragmatist’s worry that an unhealthy attachment to the past will become a hindrance to our ability to be open to the future, and therefore to the possibilities and alternatives that are presently available to us. Such conservative fatalism is a problem for a philosophical movement that, for the sake of bettering present life, emphasizes the virtues of futurity, experimentalism, possibility, and ameliorative transformation—virtues which Unger, too, is quite keen to push. Ultimately, he worries about a prevailing philosophical conservatism that eagerly capitulates to what he, following Leibniz, dubs ‘the perennial philosophy’—the doctrine that the manifest world of time, change, and difference is illusory, and that true reality is, ultimately, ‘a unity prior to all difference’.5 John Dewey expresses a similar worry about philosophy’s perennial attachment to the idea of fixed Truth already in existence. According to him, ‘[a] society that chiefly esteems order, that finds growth painful and change disturbing, inevitably seeks for a fixed body of superior truths upon which it may depend. It looks backward, to something already in existence, for the source and sanction of truth.... The thought of looking ahead, toward the eventual, toward consequences, creates uneasiness and fear.’6 Like Unger, Dewey wants us to shape a society in which the thought of looking ahead would inspire, not fear, but hope. Only such a society would be alive to emergent possibilities for change, and so be in a position to ameliorate those problems and injustices that a conservative society is tempted to regard as predetermined fate. What is more, this move, for both Dewey and Unger, seems to have the aspect of a spiritual exercise; it is for them a matter of, in the present moment, turning from death toward life.7 Unger therefore encourages his readers to experiment hopefully with such ways of liberating us from the clutches of the habitual and the actual, in order that something truly new may come: ‘Futurity should cease to be a predicament and should become a program: we should radicalize it to empower ourselves. That is the reason to take an interest in ways of organizing thought and society that diminish the influence of what happened before on what can happen next.’8 Yet in encouraging us to pursue directions that enable us to diminish the control that the past exercises upon the future, Unger does not simply seem to be recommending a Brave New World form of futurity; he is not recommending that we quicken the development of a forgetful, consumerist society whose citizens are reduced to passivity and egoism. As he is quick to point out, there is ‘a structure to the organized revision of structures. Its constituents however, are not timeless. We paste them together with the time-soaked materials at hand.’9 In our efforts to make futurity into a program, Unger also recognizes a teaching role for these ‘time- soaked’ materials; at one point he even indicates that prophecy is ‘tutored’ by memory.10 Finally, in a discussion of education, he recommends a life-long pattern of learning that ever strives to make the new out of the old, ‘[t]o open up the space in which collective memory serves individual imagination.’11 These admittedly scant references to the past as something that we cannot simply shuck off, but must in fact use, are nonetheless real, and serve to indicate that Unger’s vision of making futurity a program is something more than an expression of the desire to be completely free of the weight of the past. His position on this score seems closer to Nietzsche’s, who in ‘On the Utility and Liability of History for Life’ recognizes that life in fact ‘requires the service of history.’ Because life requires the service of history, Nietzsche restricts his polemics to a particular way of regarding the past that he considers 1 ry to be dangerously enervating. The vigorous life that Nietzsche so forcefully promotes depends, he says, ‘on whether one knows how to forget things at the proper time just as well as one knows how to remember at the proper time; on whether one senses with a powerful instinct which occasions should be experienced historically, and which 1 -3 ahistorically.’ For Nietzsche, the past must serve the present, rather than the other way around: ‘only by means of the power to utilize the past for life and to reshape past events into history once m ore.. .does the human being become a human being; but in an excess of history the human being ceases once again, and without that mantle of the ahistorical he would never have begun and would never have dared to begin.’14 Like Nietzsche, Unger wishes to defend human natality (to borrow an expression from Hannah Arendt)— our ability to begin, to embark on a new path. And this ability, moreover, does not require us to cut ourselves off from our past; rather, it depends upon our ability to use the past, to make something of it. In defending an antiquarian moment as one component of a healthy historical sensibility, Nietzsche criticizes ‘a people that has forfeited loyalty to its own past and has succumbed to restless, cosmopolitan craving for new and ever newer things.’ To this forgetful attitude, he opposes ‘what today we are in the habit of calling the true historical sensibility’— namely, ‘the contentment the tree feels with its roots, the happiness of knowing that one’s existence is not formed arbitrarily and by chance, but that instead it grows as the blossom and the fruit of a past that is its inheritance....’ 15 For Nietzsche, this organic metaphor, according to which the roots of the past exist for the sake of the present flourishing life of the tree, properly frames the healthy relationship between past and present. Antiquarian history degenerates, however, the moment we forget this relationship: ‘when history serves past life to the extent that it not only undermines further life but especially higher life; when the historical sense no longer conserves but rather mummifies it, then beginning at its crown and moving down to its roots, the tree gradually dies an unnatural death— and eventually the roots themselves commonly perish.’16 This kind of death is what I think Unger has in mind when he says that, as a result of our failure to embody context- transcending ‘spirit’ in our habitual routines, ‘we live out much of our lives in a daze, as if we are acting out a script someone else had written.’17 So I think it helps to understand Unger’s prioritizing of prophecy over memory in this Nietzschean frame. When Unger urges us to turn memory into prophecy, we should hear echoes of Nietzsche’s belief that ‘the voice of the past is always the voice of an 1 Q oracle.’ That is, Unger’s criticism of a life-enervating obsession with memory can be read as an expression of the Nietzschean fear that such an obsession with the past will (not without irony) make us deaf to its ‘oracular voice.’ Its ‘oracular voice’ has to do precisely with the way in which the past can serve the present and thereby open up new possibilities for the future. In much the same way that Nietzsche tells us that ‘only those who build the future have the right to sit in judgment of the past,’ Unger tells us that ‘[o]ur most general ideas about self and society arise from the extension of our most vivid local experience, corrected by a studied recollection o f past events and the imagination of a future direction.’19 And just as Nietzsche urges us to draw around ourselves ‘the fence of a great, all-embracing hope,’ to create within ourselves ‘an image to which the future should conform,’ and thereby to forget the false conviction that we are ‘epigones,’20 so Unger urges us to ‘so accelerate and direct the permanent invention of the new that we are able to overthrow the dictatorship of the dead over the living and to turn our minds more freely and fully toward the people and the phenomena around us.’21 2. RICOEUR’S LIBERATING MEMORY: TURNING MEMORY INTO ESCHATOLOGY Unger’s Nietzschean understanding of the appropriate relationship between past and future also echoes the one put forward by Ralph Waldo Emerson. In the essay ‘Circles’, Emerson describes the human situation between past and future as follows: ‘The new position of the advancing man has all the powers of the old, yet has them all new. It carries in its bosom all the energies of the past, yet is itself an exhalation of the morning. I cast away in this new moment all my once hoarded knowledge, as vacant and vain. Now for the first time seem I to know any thing rightly. The simplest words— we do not 99 know what they mean except when we love and aspire.’ There is much to admire in this lyrical passage, but for my purposes, I would like to focus on Emerson’s claim that, in the exhalation of this bright, new morning, the ‘advancing man’ casts away all of his ‘once-hoarded’ knowledge. Now, such hoarded knowledge is precisely what Nietzsche complains about: our stockpiling of it indicates our suffering from a ‘debilitating historical fever’, one that treats history as a standing reserve of accumulated factual claims about the past.23 While one might agree that historical knowledge taken in this way may indeed prove to be detrimental to present life—or, as Nietzsche says, ‘a kind of conclusion to life and a settling of accounts’— one might still wonder whether the most fruitful response to this dangerous situation is the sort of ‘casting away’ that Emerson appears to recommend in ‘Circles’. Emerson makes an important point of course. Hoarding is an unhealthy form o f attachment, and when one finds oneself in such a situation, ‘casting away’ might well indeed be the most therapeutic response. So, like Nietzsche, we should take Emerson seriously when he says that the new position of the ‘advancing man’ has all the powers of the old, yet in a new way. Simply because Emerson claims to have no Past at his back, does not mean he considers himself to be unshaped or uninfluenced by the past in any way whatsoever.24 Indeed, as we have already heard him claim, the new position he recommends carries all of the past’s energies ‘in its bosom’. Yet how is this trick turned? How does one go about making the past into a true inheritance and not a smothering burden, so that, as Nietzsche says, we can experience our existence as neither arbitrary nor by chance, but as the living fruit and flower of that inheritance? Putting the question another way, how might we best go about making such dead knowledge live again, so that history might once again serve life? Or, this time in Unger’s terms: How might we liberate ‘memory’ so that it may serve, if not become, ‘prophecy’? In order to suggest an answer to this question, I would like to turn briefly to a philosopher whose mood and sensibility differs somewhat from those I have examined so far. Specifically, I wish to explore Paul Ricoeur’s intervention in the now somewhat dated debate between Jürgen Habermas and Hans-Georg Gadamer on the question of the authority of tradition. I do so in order to probe the possibility that our capacity to make the past into a true inheritance might depend, not just on our ability and willingness to experiment with that inheritance, but also on our willingness to be still and listen to the past, to allow it to read us just as much as we read it. As Ricoeur notices, in the debate between Gadamer and Habermas, Gadamer defends a certain ‘authority of the past’, one that Habermas finds objectionable. According to Ricoeur, we can adopt two different attitudes toward this authority: It ‘can appear to us in turn as a form of violence exercised against our thinking, which prevents us from advancing to maturity of judgment, or as a means of assistance, as a necessary guide on the pathway from infancy to maturity.’ Habermas’s theory of ideology, Ricoeur notes, ‘adopts a suspicious approach, seeing tradition as merely the systematically distorted expression of communication under unacknowledged conditions of violence.’26 While, pace Habermas, Ricoeur accepts the legitimacy of Gadamer’s claim that we are all products of our effective histories, he adds to this affirmation the novel suggestion that our reception of the past is not simply something we undergo, but also something that we bring about.27 We are more than just passive receivers of a cultural heritage; we are active interpreters of that heritage. In an affirmative nod to Habermas’ position, Ricoeur acknowledges that the human interest in emancipation accompanies any creative reception of a cultural heritage, thereby introducing ‘ethical distance’ into the activity of this reception.28 In staking out a position that moves beyond the impasse reached by Gadamer and Habermas, Ricoeur calls our attention specifically to the Judeo-Christian religious tradition, one whose historical transmission, he claims, has preserved a memory of 9Q liberation that is itself liberating. Because of the liberating potential of such memory, Ricoeur refuses to identify its active reception and ongoing transmission with a conservatism that would shut the future down: ‘[NJothing is more decepetive than the alleged antinomy between an ontology of prior understanding and an eschatology of freedom.... [A]s if it were necessary to choose between reminiscence and hope!’30 Echoing Ricoeur’s comments on the liberating potential housed within Judeo-Christian Religious traditions, Richard Keamey claims that ‘biblical stories add a future oriented or 1 1 eschatological dimension to the recall of ancient events.’ Keamey here emphasizes the possibility for religious memory to refuse the conservative religious gesture and instead awaken us to the possibility for a different and transformed future. Participating in a religious tradition, for Keamey, is a way of entering a story whose narration is ongoing and incomplete. Those who choose to actively receive and pass along such a tradition become actors in a narrative, interpreters involved in a memorial retrieval of ancient texts, a work that can in fact serve the urgent task Unger emphasizes— liberating us from the habitual so that we may welcome novel possibilities. Indeed, this work of simultaneous retrieval and interpretation can be radically transformative for the persons and communities who undertake it. I am reminded here specifically of the final, controversial chapter of Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age, entitled ‘Conversions.’ There, Taylor speaks about the possibility and desirability of rejecting what he calls a ‘closed spin’ on modernity’s ‘immanent frame,’ and instead adopting an ‘open spin’ that allows for a human relationship with transcendence (a transcendence that is not the same as Unger’s redefinition of transcendence, by which he means to describe only our ‘active power’ of self-transcendence, or the remainder within ourselves that cannot be contained by the social and cultural codes that otherwise define us).32 In proffering a phenomenological description of these sorts of conversions—that is conversions from a modem secular life pattern to a religiously-qualified one— Taylor is careful to note that such conversions need not, in fact ought not, be regarded as simple reversions to previously outmoded life patterns, or as slavish, mechanical reproductions of the same. Rather, feeling the inadequacy of a modem secular outlook, the contemporary convert can appeal to a tradition of memory in order to enact something radically and creatively new in their lives, as well as in the life of their society.33 Ricoeur, for his part, comes out quite strongly in favour of the role of memory in this transformative process (whether or not a religious conversion is implied) when he speculates that ‘[p]erhaps there would be no more interest in emancipation, no more anticipation of freedom, if the Exodus and the Resurrection were effaced from the memory o f mankind.. ..’34 However, in his attempt to counter Habermas’ insistence on universalism and formalism as the only means by which to safeguard the human interest in emancipation, Ricoeur perhaps overstates his case. Surely it would be highly insulting to tell any currently oppressed or victimized group that, but for the modem inheritance of the Judeo-Christian tradition, they would otherwise lack any consciousness of their suffering as well as any desire for liberation.35 Yet I think it would be uncharitable to read Ricoeur this way, however lacking in nuance we might find his particular formulation here. Perhaps a more sensitive way to make his point would be to suggest that any consciousness of suffering or interest in liberation comes to us always-already clothed in traditioned or enculturated forms, and that, pace Habermas, to insist on the formal translation of these particular forms into neutral or universal terms would completely impoverish their unique ability to arouse consciousness and stir human o ’• I f iimagination and action. With this gloss, we can take Ricoeur’s insight in a more pluralist direction, without denying the force of his larger claim that the human interest in emancipation grows out of the memorial inheritance of particular cultural forms, which include but are not limited to the various strands of Judaism and Christianity that have come to us today. Still, the fact that our interest in emancipation comes clothed with an effective history underlines the importance o f cultural memory as well as the danger of cultural amnesia. Ricoeur would here have us turn memory into eschatology, to hear the biblical narrative of emancipation in a way that shapes our spiritual horizon of hope and expectation. For Ricoeur, then, cultural memory plays a key role in mediating the dispute between Gadamer and Habermas. Expressing sympathy with Habermas’ fear that too much deference to the authority of tradition can distort or even quash this emancipatory interest, Ricouer argues that, instead of seeking to emancipate ourselves from tradition per se, we ought instead to take responsibility for the manner in which we appropriate it. We must tease out the emancipatory from the enslaving forms of appropriation. Should we wish to become more finely attuned to the traditions we inherit, he thinks, we will discover strands within them that can nurture, shape, and guide the human interest in emancipation and release form suffering. In making this suggestion, Ricoeur highlights the human condition as one that finds itself, to use Hannah Arendt’s formulation, ‘between past and future’. To this point, I have examined the various ways that several thinkers— Unger, Emerson, Nietzsche, Ricoeur— construe the best way for people to inhabit this temporal tension. All reject a slavish adherence to the past as unhealthy, but perhaps Ricoeur’s position shows more openness to allowing the past to speak into the present, above and beyond our own efforts to use the past in a completely experimental way. Although Ricoeur shares these thinkers’ emphasis on maintaining an active and critical relationship with one’s past inheritance, my suspicion is that he also spies a form of passivity in this relationship that is not simply damaging to persons, and might even prove to be edifying. This openness to a certain passivity distinguishes his position from Unger’s, in particular, who tirelessly (not to mention somewhat tiresomely) emphasizes action. In the end, then, the different way each thinker construes the tension of the human situation between past and future speaks to different understandings of what it means to be human— what we have come to call an agent, a self, or a person. I turn now to an examination of this anthropological question, in order to highlight the difference that their differing answers to it make. WHO ARE WE? Although he opposes memory to prophecy, it would not be fair to say that Unger would thereby necessarily recommend the effacement of the sort of ‘liberating memory’ to which Ricoeur draws our attention. Remember that Unger highlights the need for prophecy to be ‘tutored’ by memory. Yet, in construing memory as mainly an enervating and inertial force (save for those few exceptions I have highlighted), we could forgive someone for reading Unger’s position as being one-sided when it comes to the importance of memory. Something in his book has me wishing he might consider the possibility that the trick we need to accomplish is not to turn memory into prophecy, but rather to give prophecy the right kind of memory. In A rt as Experience, Dewey too reminds us of the power of tradition, when actively received, to enhance our imagination: ‘The trouble with the academic imitator is not that he depends upon traditions, but that the latter have not entered into his mind; into the structures of his own ways of seeing and making.’37 Surely, the correct diagnosis of an enervating religious conservatism is not based on the mere fact that it seeks to preserve and shelter ancient memory, but rather that it refuses to allow this memory to enter into its imagination of present possibilities in a lively way. Such religious fundamentalism, however, is not the only target of Unger’s recommendation that we turn memory into prophecy and make futurity into a program. He places within his sights all orthodoxies, religious or secular, that would allow the past to predetermine in advance what we might experimentally attempt in the present. Because he is concerned that we not foreclose upon future possibilities, however, it is ironic that in so doing he affirms a stance toward nature that has the potential to do just that, forever and finally. I am speaking here of his paean to human ingenuity in the book’s ‘First Digression: Nature in its Place.’ Here Unger tells us that the current ecological concern about our lack of responsible stewardship of the earth’s natural resources is ‘an anxiety founded on an illusion.’ He goes on to inform us that ‘[njecessity, mother of invention, has never yet in modem history failed to elicit a scientific and technological response to the scarcity of a resource, leaving us richer than we were before.’ As if to drive the point home, he follows the logic of this position to its furthest conclusion, predicting that ‘[i]f the earth itself were to waste away, we would find a way to flee from it into other reaches of the universe. We would later revisit our abandoned and unlovely planet to re-fertilize and re-inhabit it before its fiery end.’38 At the risk of masking my sympathy for much of what Unger achieves in this book, I here submit that if this is the outworking of the inner logic of his vision of the self awakened, then I hope we all remain asleep (while I admire his gumption). Yet I do not wish this to be my final word on Unger’s position. Although I do indeed struggle with this passage, I have tried to read it sympathetically. I have asked myself what good reasons one might have to make such a seemingly outrageous claim. Clearly, those reasons are linked to Unger’s reinterpretation of transcendence as that residue of untapped potential that exists in every human being and that no tradition or set of social, political, or economic arrangements can contain. While I think this understanding of transcendence is fruitful, the passage in question still strikes me as an undesirable and unnecessary conclusion to draw from it. In making these claims for the power of human ingenuity, Unger moves from a recognition of causal indeterminacy to an assumption about the absolute good of positive infinity40; this is roughly akin to saying that, because our future is not predetermined, not only is there nothing we cannot do, but there is also nothing we could do that would be irreversibly and irreparably harmful. Unger seems to be saying that no such dire worries about the potentially fatal consequences of our actions should prevent us from experimenting with novel possibilities however we see fit. Well, I think there are many reasons that might lead us to think long and hard about adopting Unger’s presumption of the absolute good of positive infinity. For starters, Unger’s recommendation here strikes me as singularly unimaginative, in the sense in which Dewey links imagination to the active reception of a tradition. According to Dewey, ‘an imaginative experience is what happens when varied materials of sense quality, emotion, and meaning come together in a union that marks a new birth in the world.’41 In making the case for human ingenuity and rational mastery in the way that he does, it is hard to see how Unger is doing anything more than offering an unlively recapitulation of the Enlightenment tradition, one that appears to be as fatalistically imprisoned by past tradition as is any other form of philosophical conservatism he criticizes. Is not such a recapitulation of the Enlightenment anthropology of human rational mastery precisely, if inadvertently, an attempt to create the future in our own image— something Unger says we should never do? Perhaps the more ‘radical’, if less sexy, message we need to hear flows from the pen of a thinker like Wendell Berry. Ever the party-pooper, Berry risks accusations of conservatism, if not ludditism, by reminding us that [a] healthy culture is not a collection of relics or ornaments, but a practical necessity, and its corruption invokes calamity. A healthy culture is a communal order of memory, insight, value, work, conviviality, reverence, aspiration. It reveals the human necessities and the human limits. It clarifies our inescapable bonds to the earth and to each other. It assures that the necessary restraints are observed, that the necessary work is done, and that it is done w ell.... [I]t nourishes and safeguards a human intelligence of the earth that no amount of technology can satisfactorily replace.42 Now, I ’m sure Unger would think Berry is too fond of words like ‘necessary’ and ‘restraint’, and I suppose the inherent danger in accepting Berry’s caution is that we might adopt a meekness that would inhibit us from experimenting with helpful alternative possibilities. But I don’t think Berry wants to stifle our imagination in this way; he would rather have it be informed by the kind of memory that can give it the power to speak to our current need. Finally, I ask how Unger manages to turn what seems to be a manifestly dystopian vision into a utopian one. Must the glass always be half full for the pragmatist? Is there no imagination of a future that is so horrible to contemplate that, instead of telling us what we might try next, would instead tell us what we ought not to try? I can think of one: Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. Among other things, this book envisions a world in which all the supports of human civilization have been stripped away, along with the ecological milieu that had sustained it physically. Interestingly enough, the book ends with an imagined memory coming from this future, one that is structurally similar, but in content substantially different, to the more hopeful memory Richard Rorty imagines in his essay ‘Looking Backwards from the Year 2096.’43 McCarthy’s version reads: Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.44 Sometimes we are simply brought up short, and we then experience our limits not as fetters to be broken, but as the (admittedly) shifting yet inescapable edges of that space in which alone we may flourish. Here we indeed experience transcendence, indeterminacy, and possibility; but here we also experience necessary limitations that flout Unger’s presumption concerning the good of a positive infinity. Notes 1 Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, trans. Richard T. Gray (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1995), p. 96. 2 Ralph Waldo Emerson, 'Circles', in The Selected Writings o f Ralph Waldo Emerson (New York: Random House, 1992), p. 260. 3 Paul Ricoeur, Memory, History, Forgetting (Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 2004), p. 307. 4 Roberto Mangabeira Unger, The S elf Awakened: Pragmatism Unbound (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), p. 242. 5 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 11. 6 John Dewey, Reconstruction in Philosophy (Boston: Beacon Press, 1957), p. 159. 7 See Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 237. 8 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 41. 9 Ibid. 10 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 122. 11 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 226. 12 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 96. 13 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 90. Nietzsche nails his point home by asking his reader to consider the following italicized proposition: ‘the ahistorical and the historical are equally necessary f o r the health o f an individual, a people, a culture.' 14 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 91. 15 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 104. 16 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 105. 17 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 217. 18 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 130. 19 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 62. My emphasis. 20 Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 130. 21 Unger, The S e lf Awakened, p. 237. 22 Emerson, 'Circles', p. 261. 23 See Nietzsche, Unfashionable Observations, p. 86. See also p. 105: ‘Antiquarian history degenerates from the moment when the fresh life o f the present no longer animates and inspires it.... Then we view the repugnant spectacle o f a blind mania to collect, o f a restless gathering together o f everything that once existed. The human being envelops himself in the smell o f mustiness.. . . ’ 241 am grateful to Jeffrey Stout for comments on an earlier draft o f this essay, comments that have allowed me to offer this qualification o f Emerson’s understanding o f the appropriate human relationship to the past. 25 Paul Ricoeur, Ethics and Culture: Habermas and Gadamer in Dialogue ', in Political and Social Essays, eds. David Stewart and Joseph Bien (Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 1974), pp. 246-47. 26 Paul Ricoeur, Hermeneutics and the Criticque o f Ideology', trans. Kathleen Blarney and John B. Thompson, in From Text to Action: Essays in Hermeneutics II (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press), p. 271. 27 Paul Ricoeur, Time and Narrative: Volume 3, trans. Kathleen Blarney and David Pellauer (Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 1988), p. 220. 28 Ricoeur, Ethics and Culture', p. 268. 29 Ricoeur, Hermeneutics and the Critique o f Ideology', p. 306. 30 Ibid. 31 Richard Keamey, On Stories (London: Routledge, 2002), p. 79. 32 See Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), pp. 768-69. For Unger’s re-definition o f transcendence, see The S elf Awakened, pp. 55, 160-61. 33 See Taylor’s description o f Charles Péguy’s understanding o f the memory-inspired renewal implied in authentic religious conversion in A Secular Age, p 747: ‘What was at stake was not just how to know the past, but how to relate to it. A crucial distinction for Péguy lay between a life dominated by fixed habits, and one in which one could creatively renew oneself, even against the force o f acquired and rigidified forms. The habit-dominated life was indeed, one in which one was determined by one’s past, repeating the established forms which had been stamped into one. Creative renewal was only possible in action which by its very nature had to have a certain temporal depth. This kind o f action had to draw on the forms which had been shaped in a deeper past, but not by a simple mechanical reproduction, as with “habit,” but by a creative re-application o f the spirit o f the tradition.’ 34 Ricoeur, 'Hermeneutics and the Critique o f Ideology', p. 306. 351 thank William D. Hart, who responded to the oral presentation o f this paper, for sensitizing me to this potential objection to Ricoeur’s position. For a good example o f how the memorial retrieval o f a particular ancient religious tradition can inspire the human interest in emancipation, see Eddie S. Glaude, Jr., Exodus!: Religion, Race, and Nation in Early Nineteenth-Century Black America (Chicago: University o f Chicago Press, 2000). In this book, Glaude shows how the biblical Exodus narrative inspired a pragmatic tradition o f racial advocacy among African Americans in the early nineteenth century. 37 John Dewey, A rt as Experience (N ew York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1980), p. 277. See also p. 281: ‘He would be poorer than a beast o f the fields were it not for traditions that become a part o f his m in d ....’ 38 Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 240. 39 See Unger, The S elf Awakened, p. 55. See also pp. 160-61. 40 This position belies Unger’s more subtle account o f the tension between human finitude and the desire for infinity earlier in the book, a desire which he describes as ‘the stigma o f our humanity’ (p. 56). On this tension, see also the first full paragraph o f p. 213. I owe this particular formulation o f Unger’s position to my colleague at the Institute for Christian Studies, Robert Sweetman. 41 Dew ey, A rt as Experience, p. 279. 42 Wendell Berry, The Unsettling o f America: Culture and Agriculture, 3rd edition (San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1996), p. 43. 43 Richard Rorty, 'Looking Backwards from the Year 2096', in Philosophy and Social H ope (Penguin: London, 1999), pp. 243-51. 44 Cormac McCarthy, The Road (N ew York: Alfred A. Knopf), pp. 286-87. 
work_rwrgteqtezbelcvhozqjsiwfg4	----	Reformation Leads to Self-Reliance: The Protestantism of Transcendentalism religions Article Reformation Leads to Self-Reliance: The Protestantism of Transcendentalism Rachel B. Griffis Department of Language and Literature, Sterling College, 125 W Cooper Ave, Sterling, KS 67579, USA; rachel.griffis@sterling.edu; Tel.: +1-620-278-4326 Academic Editor: Christopher Metress Received: 27 December 2016; Accepted: 14 February 2017; Published: 21 February 2017 Abstract: This article examines connections between the Protestant Reformation and American literature and argues that Protestantism’s best expression exists in contemporary iterations of self-reliance. The first part focuses on William Ellery Channing’s and Ralph Waldo Emerson’s literary criticism of John Milton, a poet who represents the Protestant ideals these writers combine with American principles to develop the literary tradition. The second part discusses the trajectory of American literature in the nineteenth century and extends this discussion to current assumptions regarding teaching and learning. Keywords: Protestantism; transcendentalism; self-reliance; Milton; Channing; Emerson In 1775 when the British conservative Edmund Burke commented on revolutionary and religious zeal in America, he drew attention to the unique relationship between the Protestant Reformation and the identity of America, the site for what he called “the protestantism of the Protestant religion” ([1], p. 71). When the American transcendentalist literary movement emerged in the next century, the writers of this period also drew upon the Protestant Reformation to express the tenets of their own age. American literary critic and Catholic convert Orestes Brownson’s aptly titled article “Protestantism ends in Transcendentalism” (1846) describes transcendentalism as “nothing but the fundamental principle of the Protestant reformation itself” ([2], p. 115). Similarly, Ralph Waldo Emerson, the quintessential transcendentalist, suggests the Protestant Reformation produced Calvinism, which “rushes to be Unitarianism, as Unitarianism rushes to be pure Theism” ([3], p. 117). Like Burke, Brownson and Emerson locate America as a place where the Reformation manifested itself, although they point to the movements of the nineteenth century, and not the founding of the country, as the furthest reaches of Protestant thought. Historians, theologians, and literary scholars have long noted the complementary relationship between Protestantism and nineteenth century print culture in America. However, scholars have tended to discuss this relationship in terms of the eventual secularization of American culture rather than to consider literature as a significant medium for the continuation and development of American Protestantism, which may be most visible today in the cultural virtues of self-reliance.1 This article will demonstrate the importance of teaching nineteenth American literature as a powerful agent for Protestantism as well as connect this century’s literary and religious developments to current assumptions about learning and education. In the first part, I will suggest that the role many 1 For example, Brad S. Gregory, whom I will reference in the body of the article, connects Protestantism to secularization when he argues that “the expansion of rights inaugurated by the right to religious liberty would eventually include the right to religious unbelief and the right to live in ways antithetical to Christian morality” ([4], p. 188). While I agree with Gregory that Protestantism set in motion the option of unbelief, my article focuses on the ways in which the culture of self-reliance, wrought from individual rights, is itself an expression of Protestantism and evidence of religiosity in America. Religions 2017, 8, 30; doi:10.3390/rel8020030 www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions http://www.mdpi.com http://www.mdpi.com/journal/religions Religions 2017, 8, 30 2 of 10 writers, specifically William Ellery Channing and Ralph Waldo Emerson, expected literature to play in American life is indicative of Protestantism’s legacy in the United States. By examining Channing’s and Emerson’s criticism on John Milton, this section will highlight how they idealized literature as the conduit for the values and concepts of individualism, freedom, and self-government. The second part traces the role of literature in the moral lives of Americans through trends in the latter half of the nineteenth century and concludes with a discussion of education in light of the Reformation through an aspect of Protestantism that inspired many American writers: what Brownson describes as “the right of private judgment” ([2], p. 125).2 Overall, I hope to show that the development of the American literary tradition reflects the far-reaching effects of the sixteenth century European Reformation, which distantly yet significantly inspired the literature of the United States to function as a moral voice in the lives of the people. 1. Protestantism Gives Way to Transcendentalism: Milton, Channing, and Emerson In the first few decades of the nineteenth century, American writers became increasingly concerned with developing a literary tradition that was uniquely American and equal to England’s. In 1815, Walter Channing lamented the absence of “a literature of our own” as he speculates whether, our venerable fathers, when they deserted their own country, bring with them a thread of that literary tissue, so varied, so rich, and so beautiful, which had been the result of the dignified and delightful labour of England through so many ages of its history? Have we, their descendants, united our industry to theirs? ([5], pp. 35–36) Channing’s desire for a specifically “American” literature demonstrates his concern that the nation’s writers produce works exemplifying the lives and values of American people in a way that equals, if not rivals, creative works by the British. In 1820, the British writer Sydney Smith fanned the fires when he taunted Americans regarding their literature. “In the four quarters of the globe,” he writes, “who reads an American book? Or goes to an American play? Or looks at an American picture or statue?” ([6], p. 79). The nation’s writers in the first half of the nineteenth century responded to remarks such as Channing’s and Smith’s by building a national literature, of which the transcendentalists were a vital part. The transcendentalists’ vision for a national literature was inspired by their moral, Protestant-inflected ideals as much as their patriotism, an important point for teachers and students of the Reformation and the American literary tradition. F.O. Matthiessen acknowledges the moral undertones of this literary movement when he writes, “the transcendent theory of art is a theory of knowledge and religion as well” ([7], p. 31). More pointedly, Perry Miller asserts “that the Transcendental movement is most accurately to be defined as a religious demonstration,” and, “Neither Emerson nor Thoreau conceived of himself as an artist, but each of them came close—perilously close perhaps—to imagining himself a prophet” ([8], pp. 8–9). As Matthiessen’s and Miller’s comments show, many of the transcendentalists studied today by undergraduates and included in anthologies believed their objectives were religious ones and that they furthered the efforts of the sixteenth century reformers. For example, Margaret Fuller, hoping to renew what she calls the Protestants’ “great principle,” writes to support what she understands as the reformers’ original mission: “respect for the right of private judgment and the decision of conscience in the individual” ([9], p. 93). The novelist Catharine Maria Sedgwick celebrates “the great principle achieved and fixed by the Protestant battle—the right of private judgment” as she berates the Calvinists for obstructing this principle ([10], 2 Many other nineteenth century authors used this phrase to refer to the accomplishments of the Protestant Reformation, including Catharine Maria Sedgwick and Margaret Fuller, who will be cited in this article. Religions 2017, 8, 30 3 of 10 p. 338).3 The Unitarian minister William Ellery Channing, the older brother of Walter, calls for the continuation of the Reformation in his promotion of Unitarianism because “a Papal dominion is perpetuated in the Protestant church” ([12], p. 101). These statements, which express the common goals of the European reformers and the transcendentalists, demonstrate how many American writers in the nineteenth century viewed themselves as stewards of Protestantism in the New World and not necessarily apostates who sought to liberate others from religion. They were instead seeking the fulfillment of freedom promised by the Reformation.4 Emerson, perhaps the most studied and influential of the transcendentalists, writes about movements such as the Protestant Reformation and the American Revolution as steps in the path to self-reliance, the ultimate form of human freedom. He suggests that Protestantism progresses into such movements as “Calvinism into Old and New schools; Quakerism into Old and New,” as a result of one “key” phenomenon: “the mind had become aware of itself” ([3], pp. 325–26). Emerson goes on to describe and celebrate the progress of human culture toward his self-reliant ideals: Men grew reflective and intellectual. There was a new consciousness. The former generations acted under the belief that a shining social prosperity was the beatitude of man, and sacrificed uniformly the citizen to the State. The modern mind believed that the nation existed for the individual, for the guardianship and education of every man. This idea, roughly written in revolutions and national movements, in the mind of the philosopher had far more precision; the individual is the world. ([3], p. 326) The sixteenth century European Reformers and the eighteenth century American Revolutionaries, Emerson suggests, had conceived of new religions and nations while unwittingly grasping at the realization of the individual, to which the transcendentalists gave release with works like “Self-Reliance” (1841) and Walden (1854). In answering the call for a national literary tradition and furthering the work of the Protestant Reformation, Emerson argues that both government and religion should serve the individual, whom he proclaims, “is the world” ([3], p. 326). Or, as Henry David Thoreau states, “Now that the republic—the res-publica—has been settled, it is time to look after the res-privata—the private state” ([14], p. 174). The Protestant Reformation and the founding of the United States were, in the transcendentalists’ view, events that would culminate in their own movement. As Thoreau writes, they then turned to “the private state” to advance inner freedom, as they believed Americans needed to be liberated from tradition and authority, and that literature was a particularly well-suited medium for their message of freedom ([14], p. 174).5 Emerson and Channing both produced essays in the 1820s and 1830s that reveal the influence of Protestantism in the American literary tradition, and these works help students to understand better the ideas expressed in more familiar transcendentalist texts such as “Self-Reliance” and Walden. In his “Remarks on National Literature” (1830), Channing conveys aspirations for a literature that accomplishes work nearly indistinguishable from that of religion and the clergy. He hopes literature can “produc[e] superior men,” and he states, “We want a literature, in which genius will pay supreme, if not undivided homage, to truth and virtue” and which “will give place to a wise moral judgment; which will breathe reverence for the mind, and elevating thoughts of God” ([12], pp. 168, 185). Moreover, Channing’s vision that the nation’s literature “will pay supreme, if not undivided” attention 3 Catharine Maria Sedgwick also positively refers to Burke’s description of religion in America in The Linwoods (1835), a reference that indicates American writers’ interest in promoting the principles of Protestantism in literature and culture ([11], p. 41). 4 Alexis de Tocqueville, a French writer who visited America in the 1830s, affirms how the Americans understand their Protestant heritage. He writes that Americans, “after having shaken off the authority of the pope, acknowledged no other religious supremacy: they brought with them into the New World a form of Christianity, which I cannot better describe, than by styling it a democratic and republican religion” ([13], p. 245). 5 It is important to note that the transcendentalists’ preoccupation with freedom did not exclude the question of slavery, though they held that inner liberty was the highest form of freedom. They were indeed aware of the contradictions in American thought that allowed the Declaration of Independence and the institution of slavery to co-exist. Religions 2017, 8, 30 4 of 10 to a morality that results in “reverence for the mind” along with “elevating thoughts of God” reveals the particularly Protestant declensions of religion in nineteenth century America, which focused on elevating both humanity and God ([12], p. 185). Channing’s and Emerson’s literary criticism also provides further insights into the transcendentalists’ expectations for literature. Their admiration for John Milton, the British, Puritan poet of Paradise Lost (1667), specifically expresses how they envision a literature that celebrates their Protestant ideals and values, including individualism, freedom, self-government, and the elevation of humanity.6 As Brad S. Gregory explains, Milton is a “radical Protestant” who “simply spelled out what was implicit in Luther, Calvin, and every other sixteenth-century Protestant reformer,” an explanation that sheds light on the transcendentalists’ regard for this poet and their decision to draw upon him as they created their literary movement ([4], p. 215). Respectively written in 1826 and 1838, Channing’s and Emerson’s essays on Milton depict the poet as a progressive Protestant with ideas that anticipate and resemble the transcendentalists’ views in nineteenth century America. Channing’s essay on Milton emphasizes the poet’s commitment to freedom by highlighting the ways in which the poet interacts with civic and religious issues, a commitment he argues is motivated by Milton’s elevation of freedom of the mind. Channing states, Freedom, in all its forms, and branches, was dear to him, but especially freedom of thought and speech, of conscience and worship, freedom to seek, profess, and propagate truth [ . . . ] The tyranny which he hated most was that which broke the intellectual and moral power of the community. The worst feature of the institutions which he assailed was, that they fettered the mind. ([16], p. 508) Writing against the institutional “fetter[ing] of the mind,” and the inhibition of people’s “moral” and “intellectual” “power[s],” Channing emphasizes the incorporeal aspects of freedom with his references to “thought” and “conscience” ([16], p. 508). Like Channing, Emerson considers Milton “an apostle of freedom,” especially highlighting him as an individualist ([17], p. 271). For example, writes Emerson, “he is never lost in a party. His private opinions and conscience always distinguish him” ([17], p. 270). Emerson also praises Milton’s rejection of spiritual authority by his absence from church, noting, “The most devout man of his time, he frequented no church” ([17], p. 273). Emerson admires Milton for his spiritual autonomy, for the independence of heart and mind to eschew church authority and to take responsibility for his own spirituality, tendencies Emerson himself also possessed.7 Milton’s role as “an apostle of freedom” also gives both Emerson and Channing a way to express their high view of human nature, a view they believed had its roots in the Protestant cause, but had been obstructed by Calvinism in America ([17], p. 271). For example, as he writes about Milton’s elevation of humanity, Channing suggests that Milton’s contribution to theology is an emphasis on the human aspects of God. He argues that Milton “is more disposed than Christians in general to conceive of the Supreme Being under the forms and affections of human nature,” adding, “He thought, not so much what man is, as of what he might become” ([16], pp. 511, 509). Emerson, similarly, counts among Milton’s great achievements his resolve “to raise the idea of Man in the minds of his contemporaries and of posterity” ([17], p. 254). Taking his characteristic shots at Calvinism, Emerson also praises Milton for Paradise Lost, a work he interprets as glorifying the first man. Writing unabashedly about the glories of this first man, Emerson suggests, allows the poet to “reascend to the height from which 6 Milton was very popular among Americans in both the eighteenth and nineteenth century. Twenty-eight editions of Milton’s poetry were published by American printers between 1787 and 1815 (Sensabaugh [15], p. 17). 7 The Milton presented in this article is as Channing and Emerson interpret him, and I am interested in that interpretation for what it reveals about Channing and Emerson. Many Miltonists indeed read the poet as more Puritan than transcendentalist. For example, regarding Paradise Lost, Stanley Fish has argued in Surprised by Sin that Milton tricks the reader into indulging his or her disorderly sympathies, wherein “he places himself in a compromising situation,” which is that “He has taken his eyes from its proper object—the glory of God and the state of his own soul” ([18], p. 12). In doing so, Milton reinforces the concept of original sin, a concept which Channing and Emerson found repugnant and wanted to minimize in their reading of Milton. Religions 2017, 8, 30 5 of 10 our nature is supposed to have descended,” a position the transcendentalists believed Americans encumbered with Calvinism had forgotten or perhaps deliberately ignored ([17], p. 274).8 Channing’s and Emerson’s aspirations for American literature in their essays point to the Protestant roots of their ideas and how morality was promoted through literature in the nineteenth century. Furthermore, connecting the Reformation and transcendentalism shows that the Protestants’ contentions and causes, such as their distrust of authority and their elevation of the individual, lead to the kind of thinking eventually articulated by Emerson. Like Milton, Emerson expresses such radically Protestant sentiments in “Self-Reliance” as “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men,–that is genius” ([19], p. 29). In agreement with Burke’s and Brownson’s statements which began this article, Gregory’s theological genealogy suggests that the United States was the place where “formally [ . . . ] individuals, their rights secured by the state, would choose their own goods as they chose their own beliefs” ([4], p. 217). This assertion effectively articulates in political terms what Emerson claims for the inner lives of individual Americans. Joe B. Fulton more directly establishes a lineage between the reformers and transcendentalists when he writes that “New England’s new theological and literary movement [was] the logical outcome of Luther nailing his ninety-five theses to the church door in Wittenberg and Calvin penning his Institutes while exiled in Switzerland” ([20], pp. 404–5). These genealogies point to the possibility that literature was not only the medium through which Americans received the cultural virtues of self-reliance, but also the most effective conduit for the growth of Protestantism, from which self-reliance originates. 2. American Literature’s Moral Purpose: Individual Interpretation and Learning Protestantism continued to influence American literature in the movements that followed transcendentalism, a lineage particularly evident in the ways literature participated in the moral lives of Americans during and after the Civil War. In his call for a national literary tradition, Channing states that poetry takes on salvific proportions, a role that will become more evident as the nineteenth century progresses. Poetry, Channing writes, “the divinest of all arts,” “has the same tendency and aim with Christianity: that is, to spiritualize our nature” ([16], p. 498). Miller explains such statements as a result of the “precommitment” of the transcendentalists “to making literature a substitute for religion” ([8], p. 14). One of the results of poetry having “the same tendency and aim with Christianity,” as Channing puts it, is that literature becomes a source for moral questions and answers and the nation’s writers become the clergy ([16], p. 498). For example, a character in one of William Dean Howells’s novels, The Rise of Silas Lapham (1884–1885), asks a minister at a dinner party if he is “envious” of the power of novels in people’s lives ([21], p. 175). Similarly, in one of Mark Twain’s sketches, he writes, nine-tenths of all kindness and forbearance and Christian charity and generosity in the hearts of the American people to-day, got there by being filtered down from their fountain-head, the gospel of Christ, through dramas and tragedies and comedies on the stage, and through the despised novel [ . . . ] and NOT from the drowsy pulpit! ([22], p. 53) These developments in American literature point to the deepening moral imperatives of the nation’s writers in the nineteenth century and the waning authority of the very sources of oppression Emerson had warned his readers about, such as the church and tradition. In my classroom, I ask my students to identify Protestant and Emersonian sentiments in works from and after the Civil War period not only to help them make connections between sixteenth century Europe and American literature but also to encourage them eventually to recognize the prevalence of Emersonian Protestantism in contemporary culture. 8 Given Milton’s association with Calvinism, a branch of Christianity the transcendentalists eschewed, Emerson and Channing thus worked to curtail this tradition’s impact on Milton’s thinking. Channing, for example, writes, “Swayed as Milton was by the age in which he lived, his spirit could not be subdued to the heart-withering faith of the Genevan school” ([16], p. 517). Religions 2017, 8, 30 6 of 10 Other historical and cultural phenomena in the nineteenth century contributed to the elevation of literature in the moral lives of Americans, and several are useful for helping students to trace the links between the Reformation and American literature and culture. Two are worth mentioning here for their relationship to reading and learning: Protestant print culture and skepticism regarding the authority of the Bible. Protestant print culture, with its emphasis on individual Bible reading and the narrative testimonies of believers, promoted the dissemination of morals through literary texts. David S. Reynolds suggests that clergy adapted their work according to the literary market, “knowing they had to compete with novels for the public’s attention,” thus creating their own publications ([23], p. 15). In The Word in the World (2004), Candy Gunther Brown studies evangelical print culture specifically, showing how literature was a fundamental aspect of this branch of Protestantism. Although many of the writers Brown highlights would not endorse the cynical attitudes of Howells and Twain regarding the role of clergy and sermons in the Christian life, her research nevertheless shows that literature was essential to the success of evangelicalism. She explains, “Readers and writers made progress in a spiritual journey through textual practices, giving and receiving encouragement from other readers and writers, by placing themselves within the story of the church’s communal pilgrimage” ([24], p. 11). Although these evangelical communities did not follow, at least directly, Emerson’s enjoinder, “Nothing can bring you peace but yourself,” they expressed self-reliant ideals in their high view of literature’s ability to augment the individual’s moral life ([19], p. 52). They also had similar, non-aesthetic goals. As Brown asserts, “Usefulness, rather than genre or form, was the primary characteristic that marked texts as evangelical” ([24], p. 7). Moreover, as Channing’s and Emerson’s criticism of Milton indicates, evangelical print culture was preoccupied with conveying certain ideas rather than developing pristine literary forms.9 Additionally, the authority of the Bible strenuously came under question during the Civil War, a conflict this holy book failed to solve. Mark A. Noll argues that this conflict “revealed a significant theological crisis,” which perhaps suggests how and why, for many Americans, literature replaced the sermon as the conduit for morals ([27], p. 6). Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin (1854), for example, depicts the opposing views of Bible-readers in relation to slavery while employing the sentimental formula to show her readers which interpretation is most moral. Furthermore, in her concluding remarks, she describes the Protestant, self-reliant way an American can grow in morality and thus function as a responsible and compassionate member of a community. She famously states, “every individual can judge,” and “they can see to it that they feel right” ([28], p. 624). Stowe’s vision for advancing a moral view of slavery and human rights assumes, as Gregory points out, that people “would choose their own goods as they chose their own beliefs,” and so she undertook a persuasive writing project that would convict individuals through their feelings to support the abolition of slavery ([4], p. 217). Outsold only by the Bible in the nineteenth century, Uncle Tom’s Cabin reveals, perhaps unwittingly, that Scripture was not reliable for answering the slavery question. Instead, this novel suggests that individual sentiments, albeit Christian inflected ones, would restore order and morality in the country, a suggestion that points to the effects of the Protestant Reformation on the development of American literature. As Gregory suggests, From the outset of the Reformation to the present day, the insistence on sola scriptura and its adjuncts has produced and continues to yield an open-ended range of incompatible interpretations of the Bible, with centrifugal social and wide-ranging substantive implications for morality. ([4], p. 205) 9 As Anne C. Rose points out, “the Transcendentalists began their careers as reformers of religious philosophy,” and as a result, the literature tends to have a moral purpose over an aesthetic one ([25], p. 39). A focus on content over form is a characteristic of the transcendentalists, and this focus is evident in their criticism of Milton, which emphasizes “the ethical and didactic excellences in Milton” while overlooking “a technical examination of the stylistic features” (Pettigrew [26], p. 58). Religions 2017, 8, 30 7 of 10 The American literary tradition, though making no claims to function as the sacred word of God, encourages the self-reliant protesters and descendants from the sixteenth century to interrogate texts, to arrive at their own interpretations and thus their own beliefs. Gregory’s observation regarding the “adjuncts” of “sola scriptura” is evident in Emerson’s statement at the outset of “Self-Reliance” quoted above: “To believe your own thought, to believe that what is true for you in your private heart is true for all men,–that is genius” (Gregory [4], p. 205; Emerson [19], p. 29). The elevation of believing for oneself and thinking for oneself are concepts to which the Reformation gave rise, concepts which Emerson expressed explicitly, and which American education often takes for granted. It is cliché among educators to state that one’s goals for a particular course are for students “to think for themselves,” as such goals are assumed. In Why Read? (2004), Professor Mark Edmundson expresses the heritage of Emersonian self-reliance in the academy when he argues that students must decide for themselves which goods they will pursue on their intellectual journeys “through encounters of the best that has been known and thought” ([29], p. 86). He continues, We all have promise in us; it is up to education to reveal that promise, and to help it unfold. The power that is in you, says Emerson, is new in nature. And the best way to release that power is to let students confront viable versions of experience and take their choices. ([29], p. 86) David Foster Wallace also articulates these educational principles in his famous commencement address when he asserts, “‘Learning how to think’ really means learning how to exercise some control over how and what you think” ([30], p. 53). Edmundson’s and Wallace’s lofty expressions are what Brownson describes pejoratively as the natural consequences of “the right of private judgment,” though Edmundson’s vision in which students seriously consider “the best that has been known and thought” and “take their choices” is entirely sincere (Brownson [2], p. 125; Edmundson [29], p. 86). On the other hand, what Brownson perhaps anticipates in his critique of Protestantism and transcendentalism is that American students will resist learning because of the Emersonian platitudes they have internalized, often without having read Emerson himself. Emerson’s statements—“imitation is suicide,” “Trust thyself,” and “Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist”—inform many students’ perspectives on education ([19], pp. 29–31). Or, they echo Thoreau, who criticizes formal schooling and suggests that students “should not play life, or study it merely, while the community supports them at this expensive game, but earnestly live it from beginning to end” ([31], p. 38). As Edmundson concedes, students often protect themselves from learning that requires them to “reveal and risk [themselves],” only tolerating the kind of knowledge that “allow[s] [them] to keep [their] cool” ([29], p. 13). They choose the least demanding goods which require minimal change and growth. Alluding to the transcendentalists’ ideals, R.R. Reno explains Edmundson’s concession by drawing attention to the shortcomings of current and prevalent American assumptions about education. For Reno, learners lack a disposition of “docility,” or, “the capacity to be guided or led” ([32], p. 98). More pointedly, he states, neither students nor teachers are disposed to accept the instruction of the wise, whose voices continue to live in the great books of the past. We will not allow ourselves to be taught about spiritual, moral, and political realities. We are indocile to tradition. ([32], p. 100) Reno’s observation that students and teachers alike are “indocile to tradition” recalls the individualism of the transcendentalists, which they inherited from the Protestants who empowered the individual with the right of private judgment. This indocility is why Brownson, according to Carl F. Krummel, believed that Catholicism would “[balance] the democratic tendency with respect for authority” ([33], p. 24). Religions 2017, 8, 30 8 of 10 Gregory’s account of the Protestant perspective on authority, specifically that “in the end one was one’s own sovereign authority, answerable only to God,” is also an apt description of the transcendentalists’ views which persist in the “indocility” that has become commonplace in contemporary American culture ([4], p. 215). In Brownson’s words, “Protestantism, then, necessarily lays down the principle, that each and every man is in himself the exact measure of truth and goodness,—the very fundamental proposition of transcendentalism” ([2], p. 127). Gregory argues that this high view of the individual and the subsequent impoverished view of authority “undermined the importance of counsel that shaped one’s moral formation in a moral community” ([4], p. 215). Its current impact on educational communities is that the virtue of docility, as Reno notes, is neither practiced nor recognized. The great literary critic R.W.B. Lewis also makes the connection between transcendentalism and extreme individualism when he aptly suggests, in The American Adam (1955) that “The dismissal of the past has been only too effective: America, since the age of Emerson, has been persistently a one-generation culture” ([34], p. 9). Teaching students who have internalized Emerson thus presents its own challenges, as few of us have the audacity of Stanley Hauerwas, who, as one student reports, dismantles Emersonian assumptions by announcing in his classroom, “I don’t want you to think for yourselves. I want you to think like me” ([35], p. 26). Furthermore, as Edmundson and Wallace demonstrate, the American ideal for Protestant-inflected, democratic education has worthwhile and moral ends. Edmundson argues that American education has the potential to influence students to become “wiser, more vital, kinder, sadder, more thoughtful, more worth the admiration of their children [ . . . ] because they are free to become who they aspire to be after their own peculiar fashions” ([29], p. 142). On the other hand, Gregory’s argument about the Reformation questions whether liberating students, in Edmundson’s words, “to become who they aspire to be after their own peculiar fashions” can possibly produce the virtuous results Edmundson lists because of the radical individualism it encourages ([29], p. 142). Alasdair MacIntyre, in After Virtue (1981), a project similar to Gregory’s, suggests more directly that Edmundson’s aspirations are impossible given the “grave disorder” of “the language of morality” in our culture ([36], p. 2). Gregory’s and MacIntyre’s critiques of post-Reformation culture demonstrate how many educators are indeed working against cultural assumptions regarding the individual and the purpose of learning, assumptions wrought from Protestantism and self-reliance. For such teachers, both Protestant and Catholic, it may be helpful to consider seriously not only Brownson’s assertion that “transcendentalism is the strict logical termination of Protestantism,” but the history of transcendentalism, which is recognized as the first major literary movement in the United States ([2], p. 127). In this history, Miller states that transcendentalism itself was “no longer visible” by 1850, concluding that “it had won its point” when “America adopted it and made it orthodox” ([8], pp. 13–14). Given how deeply Americans internalized its principles, the school of transcendentalism was, according to Miller, no longer needed. As many educators today will affirm, students tend to step into our classrooms with “Trust thyself” at their fingertips and with internal barriers fully constructed against docility ([19], p. 30). If, as the nation’s writers have suggested, transcendentalism is the progression and outgrowth of the Reformation, educators should consider the possibility that Protestantism is indeed most alive in self-reliance. Emersonian perspectives on teaching, learning, and the individual are therefore religious issues educators must engage as such in order to communicate with their students about the moral traditions to which they may be indocile. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References 1. Edmund Burke. Burke’s Politics: Selected Writings and Speeches of Edmund Burke on Reform, Revolution, and War. Edited by Ross J. S. Hoffman and Paul Levack. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1949. 2. Orestes Brownson. The Works of Orestes A. Brownson. Edited by Henry F. Brownson. Detroit: Thorndike Nourse Publisher, 1884, vol. VI. Religions 2017, 8, 30 9 of 10 3. Ralph Waldo Emerson. The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1883, vol. X. 4. Brad S. Gregory. The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society. Cambridge: Belknap Press, 2012. 5. Walter Channing. “Reflections on the Literary Delinquency of America.” North American Review 2 (1815): 33–43. 6. Sydney Smith. “Statistical Annals of the United States of America.” Edinburgh Review 33 (1820): 69–80. 7. Francis Otto Matthiessen. American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1941. 8. Perry Miller. The Transcendentalists: An Anthology. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1950. 9. Margaret Fuller. Margaret Fuller, Critic: Writings from the New-York Tribune 1844–1846. Edited by Judith Mattson Bean and Joel Myerson. New York: Columbia University Press, 2000. 10. Catharine Maria Sedgwick. The Life and Letters of Catharine M. Sedgwick. Edited by Mary E. Dewey. New York: Harper & Brothers Publishers, 1871. 11. Catharine Maria Sedgwick. The Linwoods, or, “Sixty Years Since” in America. Edited by Maria Karafilis. Hanover: University Press of New England, 2002. 12. William Ellery Channing. Selected Writings. Edited by David Robinson. New York: Paulist Press, 1985. 13. Alexis de Tocqueville. Democracy in America. Translated by Henry Reeve. Edited by Isaac Kramnick. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 2007. 14. Henry David Thoreau. Reform Papers. Edited by Wendell Glick. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1973. 15. George F. Sensabaugh. Milton in Early America. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1964. 16. William Ellery Channing. The Works of William E. Channing. Boston: American Unitarian Association, 1901. 17. Ralph Waldo Emerson. The Conduct of Life and Natural History of Intellect and Other Papers. Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1929. 18. Stanley Fish. Surprised by Sin: The Reader in Paradise Lost, 2nd ed. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997. 19. Ralph Waldo Emerson. Essays: First and Second Series. New York: Library of America, 1991. 20. Joe B. Fulton. “Reason for a Renaissance: The Rhetoric of Reformation and Rebirth in the Age of Transcendentalism.” The New England Quarterly 80 (2007): 383–407. [CrossRef] 21. William Dean Howells. The Rise of Silas Lapham. New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1982. 22. Mark Twain. What is Man? and Other Philosophical Writings. Edited by Paul Baender. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1973. 23. David S. Reynolds. Beneath the American Renaissance: The Subversive Imagination in the Age of Emerson and Melville. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. 24. Candy Gunther Brown. The Word in the World: Evangelical Writing, Publishing, and Reading in America, 1789–1880. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2004. 25. Anne C. Rose. Transcendentalism as a Social Movement, 1830–1850. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1981. 26. Richard C. Pettigrew. “Emerson and Milton.” American Literature 3 (1930): 45–59. [CrossRef] 27. Mark A. Noll. The Civil War as a Theological Crisis. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2006. 28. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom’s Cabin, or, Life Among the Lowly. Edited by Ann Douglas. New York: Penguin Books, 1981. 29. Mark Edmundson. Why Read? New York: Bloomsbury, 2004. 30. David Foster Wallace. This is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life. New York: Little, Brown and Co., 2009. 31. Henry David Thoreau. Walden, Civil Disobedience, and Other Writings. Edited by William Rossi. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2008. 32. Russell Ronald Reno. Fighting the Noonday Devil and Other Essays Personal and Theological. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2011. 33. Carl F. Krummel. “Catholicism, Americanism, Democracy, and Orestes Brownson.” American Quarterly 6 (1954): 19–31. 34. Richard Warrington Baldwin Lewis. The American Adam: Innocence, Tragedy, and Tradition in the Nineteenth Century. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955. http://dx.doi.org/10.1162/tneq.2007.80.3.383 http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/2919954 Religions 2017, 8, 30 10 of 10 35. William Cavanaugh. “Stan the Man: A Thoroughly Biased Account of a Completely Unobjective Person.” In The Hauerwas Reader. Edited by John Berkman and Michael Cartwright. Durham: Duke University Press, 2001, pp. 17–32. 36. Alasdair MacIntyre. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory, 3rd ed. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 2007. © 2017 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Protestantism Gives Way to Transcendentalism: Milton, Channing, and Emerson American Literature’s Moral Purpose: Individual Interpretation and Learning 
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work_s3qetwd5hbh2zk5xpladd2ybli	----	Retirement communities and housing for the elderly : editorial to the special issue 258 Geographica Helvetica Jg. 59 2004/ Heft 4 Retirement Communities and Housing for the Elderly Editorial to the Special Issue Susan Lucas, Edinboro, Rita Schneider- Sliwa, Basel « Youth is everywhere in place. Age, like women, requires fit surroundings. Age is comely in coaches, churches, in chambers of state and ceremony, in council chambers, in courts of justice and historical societies » Emerson 1862, cited in Achenbaum 1978: 36). In the spirit of Ralph Waldo Emersons oft quoted sen¬ timent regarding the « place » of ageing and the elderly in society, the ageing of North Americas and Europes populations provides the « fit surroundings » for the col¬ lection of papers on Retirement Communities and Hous¬ ing for the Elderly in this special edition of Geograph¬ ica Helvetica. Currently, over 12 percent of both the Canadian and American populations are aged over 65 U. S. Census Bureau 2001). Approximately 15 percent of Europes population is aged over 65 and over, with Italy having the largest elderly population U. S. Census Bureau 2001). In Switzerland the population over 64 years is 15.5%, comparable to the European standard, and so are the Canton of Zurich 15.25%) and the Canton of Geneva 14.64%), whereas the City Canton of Basel has an above average elderly population 21.6%, according to the Bundesamt für Statistik 2004). The size of the elderly population in North America and Europe is expected to continue to increase over the next couple of decades as the baby- boom generation enters later life. By the year 2030 projections indicate that 20 percent of North Americas and 24 percent of Europes populations will be aged over 65 U. S. Census Bureau 2001). In an everyday sense the ageing of North Americas and Europes populations are well known. Hardly a week seems to go by without a newspaper story or news report about how the ageing of the population will negatively) impact society. Two issues in particu¬ lar, the costs of health care provision and income sup¬ port policies, have received a great deal of attention and aroused much heated debate in the United States, Canada and many European countries such as Switzer¬ land. The concentration of the elderly in certain places, states or provinces and smaller communities has like¬ wise captured the imagination. Most people in North America are, for example, aware of the concentration of retirees in Florida and Arizona and the develop¬ ment and apparent popularity of Sun City retirement communities in particular and retirement communi¬ ties in general. In a more mundane sense most urban residents are aware of the existence of nursing homes or apartment buildings containing large proportions of older people within their city of residence. In Switzer¬ land, too, housing for the elderly and the type of living arrangements for the elderly, such as rooming in with family members or non family arrangements, are the topics of continuing public debate. Laws 1993) convincingly argues that ageist senti¬ ments and public policy created and continue to craft an urban landscape that segregates and concentrates the elderly in very specific spaces. Historically such places have included workhouses and almshouses, but now they include nursing homes, assisted living facil¬ ities and state- sponsored chronic care facilities. The development of such concentrations in places and spaces that were generally viewed in a negative light, contends Laws 1993), aided the association of old age with inactivity, poverty, disease and social isolation. In some Swiss cities, this too, is an issue. In the City of Basel, for example, there is a large concentration of retirement homes in that part of town locally called the « Lower Basel » that generally has a poor image a high proportion of foreigners, redevelopment sites need for special urban planning measures). The « greying » of the suburbs particularly in North America and the construction of retirement communi¬ ties, along with the increased exploitation of the senior market Sawchuck 1995; Moschis et al. 1997) has caused not only the re- distribution of the older popu¬ lation but has also promoted the construction of more positive images of old age. Such images depict older people as happy and healthy members of society, sur¬ rounded by friends, with money to spend and the energy to spend it. McHugh 2000) argues forcefully however that the use of such images to describe later life, though apparently positive, is still troubling. Large or small, retirement communities still segregate older people. Old age is therefore still seen as a distinct part of the life course that is associated with specific spaces. Echoing Emerson, old age still has « fit surroundings » ; its just that those surroundings are now more pleas¬ ant places. Whereas this is true for the North American context where ageing is « big business » the same is not exactly true in the European and Swiss contexts. In the Swiss context, ageing is not « big business » and older consumers remain underserved. This is especially true for private sector housing. While many older Swiss are quite able to afford market rate housing and pri¬ vate housing that has been adapted to meet the specific needs of older people supply remains tight. Retirement Communities and Housing for the Elderly Susan Lucas, Rita Schneider- Sliwa 259 The collection of papers on Retirement Commu¬ nities and Housing for the Elderly in this special edition of Geographica Helvetica includes a wide range of multidisciplinary research based in Canada, the United States and Switzerland. The papers pre¬ sented examine indirectly the spatial distribution of the elderly and at the same time the meaning of the residential environments in which the elderly chose to live or are obligated to live because of declining health, limited financial resources or the availability of suitable housing. The examination of the spatial distribution of the elderly population provided by this edition of Geographica Helvetica is indirect as none of the papers purposefully describe patterns of concentration based on age, yet all focus on one of the locations in which the elderly have become con¬ centrated and therefore in totality partially describe where the elderly live. It is necessary however to put a caveat on such a claim by reading the papers presented it is easy to get the impression that the largest proportion of elderly population lives in age¬ segregated environments as Horne indicates in his paper, this is not the case. Most older people age in their own homes, and this is the same in the United States and in Switzerland. In the first paper in this collection Susan Lucas examines the images used to sell and represent retire¬ ment communities. Promotional brochures produced for potential residents by retirement communities are used to determine if and to what extent the notions of successful ageing, defined as the ability to maintain the activity patterns and values of middle age and agelessness are used to market this particular type of age- segregated residential environment. The results show that most of the images used in the retirement community promotional pamphlets describe either the physical environment of each community or the rec¬ reational and social amenities available to residents. Images that epitomize successful ageing and ageless¬ ness occur almost as frequently and are often mixed with detailed accounts of busy active residents partic¬ ipating in leisure activities, travelling to local attrac¬ tions, or eating in nearby restaurants. References to the physical and mental decline that often accompa¬ nies older age are almost totally absent. When age related decline is mentioned the references are subtle and indirect. William R. Horne begins his examination of where seniors move in Brandon, Manitoba by briefly dis¬ cussing the reasons for and timing of such moves. Income, the level of care needed, familial situation, desire and options available all determine where seniors move. The timing of the move is determined by the timing of the retirement decision, loss of a spouse, difficulty in meeting maintenance costs and changes in the ability of the homeowner to care for themselves in a large single family dwelling. Hornes analysis shows that the options available to seniors who do not move into a care facility or remain in the single family home, are to move to a condomin¬ ium, mobile home or rental accommodation. Rental options available to seniors are identified as non¬ profit housing, public housing, in the form of apart¬ ments provided by the Manitoba Housing Authority and private apartments. The most popular option is for seniors to remain in their own homes. Purchasing a condominium or mobile home is also popular. The differing location of the housing options available to Brandon residents means that Hornes paper inad¬ vertently provides information about the spatial dis¬ tribution of Brandons elderly population. Most of the housing options available to seniors are located close to downtown. More mobile residents who still want a detached owned dwelling can move into a mobile home in a park located just a few kilometres from downtown. Based on narrative interviews and participant observa¬ tions Lisa Curch provides a detailed discussion about the social and environmental factors that affect dietary behaviours among older female residents living in one age- segregated facility. In general, the results show that the provision of meals in a central dining room both liberated the women from food preparation respon¬ sibilities and constrained their eating behaviour by removing some of the control they had traditionally exercised over what, where and when they ate. Influ¬ ences on dietary behaviour that resulted from mobil¬ ity problems or the stigma attached to the use of assis¬ tive devices were grouped together as « person factors » and included the problems some residents experienced walking to the dining room and the fact that some residents disliked assistive devices being brought into the dining room. Sharing a meal with friends in the dining room provided considerable opportunity for social interaction that was welcomed by most resi¬ dents. As the environment in which residents ate the dining room provided a point of contrast with meals prepared in residents apartments. Most female resi¬ dents cooked only simple meals in their apartments as a result of the provision of food in the dining room and most had never used their oven. In her study « Retirement Housing in Geneva » Mar¬ tine Freedman examines the determinants of segre¬ gation among the elderly in retirement apartments. Whereas some factors point to personal circumstances, such as the inability to adapt to new situations, there are often determinants that are within the domain of architectural planning. The interplay between micro or individual level factors and the macro context of plan¬ ning sheds new light on the importance of participa- 260 Geographica Helvetica Jg. 59 2004/ Heft 4 tory planning that would involve the elderly or their associations to a greater degree in the design of pri¬ vate sector, adapted housing. The issue of participation in the design of adapted housing for the elderly is also taken up by Rita Schnei-der- Sliwa. In her study of 3248 persons between the ages of 65- 85, elderly people in the Cantons of Basel- City and Basel- Country Switzerland) are questioned as to their preferences regarding living location, possi¬ ble residential requirements, size and type of housing/ apartments and living arrangements. The results reflect not only the opinions but the whole life and lifestyle of the so- called older generation. Because of the current independent lifestyle of the elderly and their desire to continue living in a familiar manner and form, the fact that independence is greater respected in society than dependence, the need for respect of the individual and the importance of social cohesion, all possible mea¬ sures should be taken to ensure mobility and provi¬ sion of services geared towards the elderly, as well as the preservation of housing arrangements and/ or suf¬ ficient living space in old age, an area in which the City Canton of Basel has many options for action. Valesca Zaugg, Joris E. Van Wezemael and André Odermatt take up this argument of the specific needs of elderly and point to the role in the housing market in generating corresponding supply. Just as the demand for certain type of housing is changing with age, so too, should the supply side respond. According to the authors, this is, however, questionable. They approach the issue of housing supply from the investors per¬ spective which pursues differential strategies with respect to the ageing society. Whereas non profit inves¬ tors pursue social aims and are very much orientated towards the elderly, the commercial developers are by and large not interested in investing into adapted housing for the elderly. It is rather the young families that are targeted. Thus, the megatrend of demographic ageing is not accompanied by a similar trend in the housing supply side which attests to market inefficien¬ cies and to the role of the public sector in providing incentives for private builders. References Achenbaum, W. A. 1978): Old age in the New Land. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Laws, G. 1993): « The land of old age » : Societys chang¬ ing attitudes toward built environments for elderly people. In: Annals of the Association of American Geographers 83: 672- 693. McHugh, K. E. 2000): The « ageless self » Emplace¬ ment of identities in Sun Belt retirement communities. In: Journal of Aging Studies 14: 103- 115. Moschis, G., Euehun, L. & A. Mather 1997): Target¬ ing the mature market: Opportunities and challenges. In: Journal of Consumer Marketing 14: 282- 294. Sawchuck, K. A. 1995): From gloom to boom: Age, identity and target marketing. In: Featherstone, M. & A. Wernick eds): Images of Aging: Cultural Representations of Later Life. London: Routledge: 173- 187. Susan Lucas, Ph. D., Assistant Professor, Department of Geosciences, Edinboro University of Pennsylvania, 230 Scotland Road, Edinboro, PA 16444, U. S. A. e- mail: slucas@ edinboro. edu Prof. Dr. Rita Schneider- Sliwa, Geographisches Institut der Universität Basel, Abteilung Humangeographie / Stadt- und Regionalforschung, Klingelbergstrasse 27, CH- 4056 Basel, Switzerland. e- mail: Rita. Schneider- Sliwa@ unibas. ch Retirement communities and housing for the elderly : editorial to the special issue 
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work_s77xx2fmmzeqxisd4yxjhzp5va	----	Quantifying and communicating peri&#x2010;operative risk Title Quantifying and communicating peri-operative risk Author(s) Irwin, MG; Kong, VKF Citation Anaesthesia (Oxford), 2014, v. 69 n. 12, p. 1299-1303 Issued Date 2014 URL http://hdl.handle.net/10722/215071 Rights Creative Commons: Attribution 3.0 Hong Kong License Editorial Quantifying and communicating peri-operative risk Shallow men believe in luck. Strong men believe in cause and effect —Ralph Waldo Emerson Life is risky Risk is the potential that a chosen action or activity (including the choice of inaction) will lead to a spe- cific outcome, and implies that the choice has an influence on the out- come. Most definitions are synony- mous with the possibility of an adverse event but, of course, a risk can also be taken in the hope of a favourable outcome, particularly with investment. There is also a personal perspective on risk. A fatalist person- ality may be very accepting and unconcerned about risk whereas more pragmatic individuals know that there can be modifiable factors involved. This can apply to health- care; for example, even though sur- gery may be necessary in a patient, there may be pharmaceutical inter- ventions that could reduce morbidity. Almost any human endeavour carries some risk. Staying in hospital is far riskier than travelling by aeroplane. A recent study showed that a one-night stay in hospital carries a 11.1% risk of nosocomial infection, a 3.4% risk of an adverse drug reaction related to human error or allergy, and a 0.4% risk of pressure ulcer due to immobil- isation [1]. In 2007 in the USA, there were 1.31 fatal crashes per 100 000 flight hours for non-commercial flights and 0.016 per 100 000 for major airlines [2]. Despite efforts to the contrary, healthcare is an intrinsi- cally hazardous business. Anaesthesia is a medical spe- cialty very much focused on risk management and patient safety and, consequently, the mortality risk attributable to anaesthesia itself has dropped dramatically over the years, from about one death in 1000 anaesthetic procedures in the 1940s to one in 100 000 in the early 2000s [3]. However, although anaesthesia is relatively safe, surgery can be very dangerous. In 2000, the 30-day mor- tality risk in the UK was one death in 34 emergency operations (2.9%) and 1:177 after elective surgery (0.6%) [4]. The European Surgical Outcomes Study was an observa- tional study in which data were col- lected on 46 539 patients aged ≥ 16 years undergoing non-cardiac surgery, over a seven-day period, in 498 hospitals across 28 European nations [5]. There was considerable variability from country to country but median death rates were 3% for elective and 10% for emergency sur- gery. Anaesthesia has an excellent track record for patient safety and has been described as the leading medical specialty in addressing such issues [6], yet it is apparent that the peri-operative process still has great potential for hazard from a host of factors, of which anaesthesia is but one. Ronald A. Howard, a pioneer of decision analysis, wanted to develop a scale that would more clearly confer risk rather than per- centages. He coined the term ‘microprobability’ to refer to an event with a chance of one in a million. From this concept, a ‘micro- mort’ (from ‘micro’ and ‘mortality’) is then a one in a million chance of death [7]. We face risk simply by being alive and this may be exacer- bated by indulging in various activi- ties. A mobile app is now available for illustrating how many micro- morts are involved in our daily activ- ities (see https://play.google.com/ store/apps/details?id=com.zanzibar- tech.micromorts). The use of micro- morts then allows us actually to quantify risk and translate it into whole numbers. A micromort denotes a one in a million chance of death from one-time dangerous events, a concept that can be easily understood and compared. A one in a million chance is, of course, rare but also an everyday occurrence. For example, the chance of a particular individual’s winning the weekly lottery is less than 1 in 32 million © 2014 The Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland 1299 Anaesthesia 2014, 69, 1299–1313 people, but conversely this jackpot gets won almost every week by somebody. Micromorts are an expression of acute risks, such that once that event has been completed the risk has gone. The risk of surgi- cal anaesthesia is in the range of var- ious day-to-day activities. Audits of the risk of death from a general anaesthetic alone vary considerably geographically, but may be around one death in 100 000 operations in a developed country [8], which equates to 10 micromorts per opera- tion. This is the same risk of death, on average, as riding a motorcycle for 60 miles or skydiving. Micro- morts rely on aggregated risk data for calculations, so their applicability to specific circumstances or individ- uals is limited. In contrast with mi- cromorts, there is also a unit called microlife which is a risk (or gain) representing a 30-minute change of life expectancy [9]. It is a way of mea- suring the impact of long-term hab- its on the human body. For example, smoking two cigarettes will ‘cost’ one microlife; whereas bonus life can be gained by taking a statin daily (one mi- crolife per day) or doing 20 minutes of moderate exercise daily (two microlives per day). A user-friendly microlife cal- culator (see http://journals.bmj.com/ site/microlives) is available. People in general are notoriously bad at calculat- ing risk. The concept of micromort and microlife can be useful for explaining various risks in our daily peri-operative practice to the general public. The blind leading the blind? Shared decision-making in the healthcare context very often depends on the understanding of numerical information, in either text or graphical format. The perception of harm and benefit associated with particular options is important for many health decisions. Surprisingly, not only patients but many doctors have severe problems mastering a host of numerical concepts that are prerequisites for understanding information about the harm and benefit of medical treatments [10]. Highly educated people can still have difficulty with relatively simple numeracy questions [11]. Numeracy influences the processing of both numerical and non-numerical infor- mation. Less numerate individuals are more susceptible to framing effects, more easily affected by non- numerical information such as mood states, and less sensitive to different levels of numerical risk [12]. The Berlin Numeracy Test is a new psy- chometric instrument for assessing statistical numeracy and risk literacy in an educated population [13]. It typically takes three minutes to com- plete and an online version is now also available (see http://www.risklit- eracy.org). Statisticians, clinicians and psy- chologists have recommended the use of numerical as opposed to ver- bal descriptions for risk communica- tion [14–16]. In addition to probability information, the way people perceive a risk message may be influenced by the framing of risk information, risk comparisons, the message’s qualitative content and trust [17]. Conveying relative risks alone without absolute risk or base- line risk is an example of non-trans- parent framing. Comparing benefits and harm using different scales, such as reporting benefits in big numbers by relative risk reduction and harm in small numbers by absolute risk increases, is another way of altering risk perception. An example is the 1995 contraceptive pill scare in the UK, where an alarming figure of a 100% increase (relative) in thrombo- sis caused by third-generation oral contraceptive pills was much more terrifying than a humble increment in absolute risk, from one in 7000 to two in 7000 [18]. Humans can be prone to unwittingly tricking them- selves with representative bias in risk assessment in gambling pursuits such as purchasing lottery tickets. If the odds of winning a lottery are one in a million, then buying two tickets will ‘double’ the chance to two in a million (an apparent 100% increase). However, the odds of not winning the jackpot by buying two lottery tickets hardly changes at all (from 99.9999% to 99.9998%; a change of 0.0001%). Non-transparent and mis- matched framings are common phenomena, even for scientific research published in leading medi- cal journals. Studies have revealed that up to half of articles report only relative risks or odds ratios, and about one third adopt mis- matched framing for risk-benefit discussion [19, 20]. Risk communi- cation with incomplete and mis- leading numerical descriptions hinders shared decision-making. Patients are likely to be familiar with the concept of risk, but human nature is such that many do not understand the relativity or perhaps even choose to ignore it. To use gambling again as an example, a recent $640 million lottery in the USA created much excitement and 1300 © 2014 The Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland Anaesthesia 2014, 69, 1299–1313 Editorial a scramble to buy tickets when the odds of winning were approxi- mately one in 175 million. That number may not mean much in itself, but in relative terms the chance of winning is 175 times less than that of being struck by light- ning in a given year, a fact that helps conceptualise probability. As in life, there is no zero risk and no certainty in any branch of medicine, but only risks that are more or less acceptable. Communi- cating risk information is important but, unfortunately, more difficult than might be expected. Patients’ values and preference are essential elements of shared decision-making. In 2011, a report on the peri-opera- tive care of surgical patients pub- lished by the National Confidential Enquiry into Patient Outcome and Death principally recommended that “an assessment of mortality risk should be made explicit to the patient and recorded clearly on the consent form and in the medical record” [21]. A spreadsheet has been developed to quantify mortal- ity risk before and after surgery by calculating mortality rates, and life expectancy with adjustment for var- ious parameters such as age, sex, co-morbidities, renal function, physical fitness, and body mass index [22]. An on-line calculator is available for estimating peri-opera- tive mortality in order to assist shared decision-making between patients and their doctors when non-surgical intervention is an option (see https://sites.google.com/ site/informrisk/). The complex nature of the peri-operative period gives rise to the potential for significant risk to all patients. Directing efforts towards patient safety can be uncomplicated and inexpensive, yet significantly improve the quality of peri-operative care. The World Health Organization’s surgical safety checklist is an example of a simple, cheap and effective method of reducing avoidable complications resulting from surgery [23]. More- over, the use of a checklist is likely to provide a net financial benefit to the healthcare system because the cost of the intervention is low under all scenarios and there should be a reduction in morbidity and medicolegal claims. Anaesthesia is a medical discipline of applied science related to the art of peri-operative risk reduction by identification, intervention, and prevention. To test or not to test High-risk patients account for no more than 15% of all surgical pro- cedures but over 80% of deaths [24]. However, it is still a major challenge to identify accurately and reliably patients who are at high risk of postoperative mortality and morbidity. Cardiopulmonary exer- cise testing (CPET) is a measure of aerobic capacity that is becoming more widely employed, with the estimated number of tests per- formed in the UK alone estimated to be in excess of 14 000 per year [25]. Based on the possible associa- tion of pre-operative aerobic fitness with subsequent survival after surgery, CPET has been used for triaging patients with occult cardio- respiratory disease for further investigation and optimisation strat- egies before major operations [26]. Nonetheless, none of the derived variables, such as ventilatory anaer- obic threshold or maximal oxygen uptake, can be regarded as a cor- nerstone for the prediction of sur- vival after major surgery [27]. The European Society of Cardiology’s guidelines on pre-operative cardiac risk assessment and peri-operative cardiac management, published in 2009, questioned the role of CPET in risk assessment before surgery and emphasised that it is not a sub- stitute for stress testing in routine practice [28]. A scientific statement from the American Heart Associa- tion has also highlighted the lack of randomised trials to support recom- mendations for diagnostic and prognostic applications of CPET [29]. Reliance upon any single fac- tor in predicting future risk is more like gambling than rational assess- ment, since no test is infallible. No single variable can estimate the extent of survival and quality of life, although physical fitness appears to be an important component [30, 31]. Pre-operative testing should not be a screening exercise for sta- ble patients but a strategic part of the peri-operative risk reduction programme for susceptible patients. Risk assessment should always be tailored to individual patients, and pre-operative tests only reserved for those in whom test results would positively influence and change peri-operative management. Our drive to ‘optimise risk’ can lead to unnecessary investigation and inter- vention when we should really be optimising ‘risk assessment’ through more comprehensive history taking and physical examination. Concerns over malpractice liability result in excessive and unnecessary consulta- © 2014 The Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland 1301 Editorial Anaesthesia 2014, 69, 1299–1313 tion, hospitalisation, testing, and treatment can, paradoxically, be a safety hazard for both patients and doctors, with false positive findings leading to costly and possibly harm- ful treatments or further investiga- tions and delays in surgery. The quantity of tests should not be con- fused with the quality of care. Are drugs the answer? Is there a pharmacological panacea for peri-operative risk optimisation? One of the main objectives of risk identification is to determine which individuals could benefit from a protective, therapeutic intervention. If that intervention is potentially dangerous in itself, e.g. coronary artery stenting, then careful selec- tion is absolutely essential. There are, however, fairly safe and simple pharmacological treatments that are very promising in this regard. It may not be necessary to investigate patients aggressively with expensive and even hazardous techniques if the indication for surgery is very strong. Why not assume the worst and instigate protective measures anyway? Over the last decade, sta- tins have been investigated exten- sively for their potential multimodal effects in modifying a number of aspects of peri-operative morbidity and mortality [32–34]. Possible pleiotropic effects of statin therapy are reduction of myocardial infarc- tion and stroke, prevention of atrial fibrillation, improvement of vascu- lar draft survival, protection from renal insufficiency, and inhibition of malignant cell growth [34]. All peri-operative applications of statins are ‘off-label’, as their primary indi- cation is lipid-lowering, but the drugs, which are now available in generic form, are relatively inexpen- sive with a very good safety profile [35]. However, in the latest Cochra- ne review of statins for vascular surgery, there was insufficient evi- dence to conclude that use of sta- tins resulted in either a reduction or an increase in any of the out- comes examined. It was also observed that the widespread use of statins in the population now will make it difficult for researchers to undertake the large randomised tri- als needed to demonstrate any effect [36]. Peri-operative pharmacological interventions, while having certain benefits, may themselves be associ- ated with risk that could outweigh such advantages. Data from the POISE trial suggested that routine administration of peri-operative beta-blockers in an un-titrated, rela- tively high dose starting on the day of operation, increased the risk of stroke and overall mortality for non-cardiac surgery in the presence of favourable outcomes on other cardiovascular parameters [37, 38]. POISE II has generated similar con- troversy recently over the use of peri-operative aspirin [39]. Conclusions Anaesthesia, as a service-based spe- ciality dealing with specific inci- dent-related risks, has not yet reached its peak despite being acknowledged as the leading medi- cal speciality in designing fail-secure systems and probably the only spe- cialty in healthcare to have reached the critical target of six sigma defect rate [6, 40]. The peri-operative period could be made safer by revolutionising risk management tactics with corresponding interven- tions in preventing complications and improving patient outcomes. It has been suggested that the techni- cal aspects of anaesthesia could be delegated to robots [41], so are we ready for our new role as peri- operative risk strategists? Competing interests No external funding and no com- peting interests declared. M. G. Irwin Professor V. K. F. Kong Honorary Assistant Professor Department of Anaesthesiology University of Hong Kong, Hong Kong Email: mgirwin@hku.hk References 1. Hauck K, Zhao X. How dangerous is a day in hospital? a model of adverse events and length of stay for medical inpatients. Medical Care 2011; 49: 1068–75. 2. Li G, Baker SP. CRash risk in general aviation. Journal of the American Medi- cal Association 2007; 297: 1596–8. 3. Li G, Warner M, Lang BH, Huang L, Sun LS. Epidemiology of anesthesia-related mortality in the United States, 1999– 2005. Anesthesiology 2009; 110: 759– 65. 4. Jenkins K, Baker AB. Consent and anaesthetic risk. Anaesthesia 2003; 58: 962–84. 5. Pearse RM, Moreno RP, Bauer P, et al. Mortality after surgery in Europe: a 7 day cohort study. Lancet 2012; 380: 1059–65. 6. Leape LL. Error in medicine. Journal of the American Medical Association 1994; 272: 1851–7. 7. Howard RA. Microrisks for medical decision analysis. International Journal of Technology Assessment in Health Care 1989; 5: 357–70. 8. Aitkenhead AR. Injuries associated with anaesthesia. A global perspective. Brit- ish Journal of Anaesthesia 2005; 95: 95–109. 1302 © 2014 The Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland Anaesthesia 2014, 69, 1299–1313 Editorial 9. Spiegelhalter D. Using speed of ageing and microlives to communicate the effects of lifetime habits and environ- ment. British Medical Journal 2012; 345: e8223. 10. Galesic M, Garcia-Retamero R. Using analogies to communicate information about health risks. Applied Cognitive Psychology 2013; 27: 33–42. 11. Lipkus IM, Samsa G, Rimer BK. General performance on a numeracy scale among highly educated samples. 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The public health implications of the 1995 ‘pill scare’. Human Repro- duction Update 1999; 5: 621–6. 19. Schwartz LM, Woloshin S, Dvorin EL, Welch HG. Ratio measures in leading medical journals: structured review of accessibility of underlying absolute risks. British Medical Journal 2006; 333: 1248. 20. Sedrakyan A, Shih C. Improving depic- tion of benefits and harms: analyses of studies of well-known therapeutics and review of high-impact medical journals. Medical Care 2007; 45: S23–S8. 21. Findley G, Goodwin A, Protopapa K, Smith N, Mason M. Knowing the risk: a review of the peri-operative care of sur- gical patients. London: NCEPOD, 2011. 22. Carlisle JB. Pre-operative co-morbidity and postoperative survival in the elderly: beyond one lunar orbit. Anaes- thesia 2014; 69: 17–25. 23. Haynes AB, Weiser TG, Berry WR, et al. A surgical safety checklist to reduce morbidity and mortality in a global population. New England Journal of Medicine 2009; 360: 491–9. 24. 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Guidelines for pre-operative cardiac risk assessment and perioperative car- diac management in non-cardiac sur- gery: The Task Force for Preoperative Cardiac Risk Assessment and Perioper- ative Cardiac Management in Non-car- diac Surgery of the European Society of Cardiology (ESC) and endorsed by the European Society of Anaesthesiology (ESA). European Heart Journal 2009; 30: 2769–812. 29. Balady GJ, Arena R, Sietsema K, et al. Clini- cian’s guide to cardiopulmonary exercise testing in adults: a scientific statement from the American Heart Association. Cir- culation 2010; 122: 191–225. 30. Carlisle JB. The quick and the dead. Anaesthesia 2013; 68: 799–803. 31. Lee L, Schwartzman K, Carli F, et al. The association of the distance walked in 6 min with pre-operative peak oxy- gen consumption and complications 1 month after colorectal resection. Anaesthesia 2013; 68: 811–6. 32. Biccard BM. A peri-operative statin update for non-cardiac surgery. Part II: Statin therapy for vascular surgery and peri-operative statin trial design. Anaesthesia 2008; 63: 162–71. 33. Biccard BM. A peri-operative statin update for non-cardiac surgery. Part I: The effects of statin therapy on athero- sclerotic disease and lessons learnt from statin therapy in medical (non- surgical) patients. Anaesthesia 2008; 63: 52–64. 34. Chan WW, Wong GT, Irwin MG. Periop- erative statin therapy. Expert Opinion on Pharmacotherapy 2013; 14: 831– 42. 35. Minder CM, Blumenthal RS, Blaha MJ. Statins for primary prevention of car- diovascular disease: the benefits out- weigh the risks. Current Opinion in Cardiology 2013; 28: 554–60. 36. Sanders RD, Nicholson A, Lewis SR, Smith AF, Alderson P. Perioperative sta- tin therapy for improving outcomes during and after noncardiac vascular surgery. Cochrane Database of System- atic Reviews 2013; 7: CD009971. 37. Devereaux P, Yang H, Yusuf S, et al. Effects of extended-release metoprolol succinate in patients undergoing non- cardiac surgery (POISE trial): a rando- mised controlled trial. Lancet 2008; 371: 1839–47. 38. Wijeysundera DN, Duncan D, Nkonde- Price C, et al. Perioperative beta block- ade in noncardiac surgery: a systematic review for the 2014 ACC/AHA Guide- line on Perioperative Cardiovascular Evaluation and Management of Patients Undergoing Noncardiac Sur- gery: a report of the American College of Cardiology/American Heart Associa- tion Task Force on Practice Guidelines. Journal of the American College of Car- diology 2014 Aug 1; doi 10.1016/j. jacc.2014.07.939. 39. Devereaux PJ, Mrkobrada M, Sessler DI, et al. Aspirin in patients undergoing noncardiac surgery. New England Jour- nal of Medicine 2014; 370: 1494–503. 40. Amalberti R, Auroy Y, Berwick D, Bar- ach P. Five system barriers to achieving ultrasafe health care. Annals of Inter- nal Medicine 2005; 142: 756–64. 41. Hemmerling TM, Terrasini N. Robotic anesthesia: not the realm of science fiction any more. Current Opinion in Anesthesiology 2012; 25: 736–42. doi:10.1111/anae.12881 © 2014 The Association of Anaesthetists of Great Britain and Ireland 1303 Editorial Anaesthesia 2014, 69, 1299–1313 
work_scodkisvk5hn5o53r7drngkfj4	----	In Memoriam lege of Arts and Sciences. Peter- son's award, the first in the college, was for her work in the West Vir- ginia Statewide Consortium for Faculty and Course Development in International Studies (FACDIS) and for her involvement with the West Virginia public schools. Joel Rodgers, professor of law, po- litical science and sociology, Uni- versity of Wisconsin-Madison has been awarded a 1995 MacArthur Foundation Grant. Kaare Strom, professor, depart- ment of political science, Univer- sity of Minnesota, has been awarded the ISSC Stein Rokkan Prize in Comparative Social Sci- ence Research for his study Minor- ity Government and Majority Rule. Myron Weiner, professor of politi- cal science, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, has been selected as the winner of the University of London's Edgar Graham Book Prize for 1994 for The Child and the State in India. The prize is awarded every two years for a work of original scholarship on ag- ricultural and/or industrial develop- ment in Asia and/or Africa. In Memoriam Evron M. Kirkpatrick Evron Maurice Kirkpatrick, 83, affectionately known as "Kirk" to a generation of political scientists, died of congestive heart failure at his home in Bethesda, Maryland, on April 26, 1995. He is survived by his wife, professor and former U.S. Ambassador to the United Nations Jeane J. Kirkpatrick; three sons, Douglas J. of Bethesda, John E. of Miami, Florida, and Stuart A. of Ann Arbor, Michigan; two daughters, Mary E. Evans of Austin, Texas and Anna Kirk- patrick of Aix-en-Provence, France; and six grandchildren. Kirk's obituaries in the Washing- ton Post, Washington Times, and New York Times quite properly de- voted much of their attention to his teaching career at the University of Minnesota (1935-1948), Howard University (1957-1961), and Geor- getown University (1959-1984); to his wartime service in the Office of Strategic Services, his postwar ser- vice in the Department of State as Chief of the External Research Staff (1948-1952) and Chief of the Psychological Intelligence and Re- search Staff (1952-1954); to his ser- vice as a member of President Kennedy's Commission on Regis- tration and Voting Participation (1963-1964); as a member of other advisory bodies, including Presi- dent Lyndon Johnson's Task Force on Career Advancement in the Federal Service (1966); and as a charter director of the U.S. Insti- tute for Peace. This obituary, however, appears in PS, a journal which he helped to found and named. So it seems fit- ting that we should focus here on Kirk's long (1954-1981) service as the second Executive Director of the American Political Science As- sociation. Kirk was nominated by APSA President Ralph J. Bunche and ap- proved by the Council in 1954 to succeed Edward Litchfield. Prior to Kirk's installation, the fledgling Na- tional Office had concentrated al- most entirely on making arrange- ments for the Association's annual meetings, and had run up a debt of $14,000. Kirk's first action on tak- ing office was to borrow money to meet the office's payroll. Since then the Association, following strategies initiated by Kirk and built upon by his successors, Tom Mann and Cathy Rudder, has be- come one of most prosperous and respected of the national offices of learned societies. Early in his term Kirk concluded that the Association should own its own building. In 1968, with consid- erable help from Kirk's former stu- dent and APSA treasurer and legal counsel, Max Kampelman, the As- sociation purchased its own build- ing at 1527 New Hampshire Ave- nue, NW., in Washington, D.C., and now owns it free and clear. In the late 1950s, Kirk and then-APSA president V.O. Key started the As- sociation's Trust and Development Fund. Contributions and invest- ments made during and since Kirk's service have built the fund to its present balance of $1.8 mil- lion. In 1982, the Association also established the Evron M. Kirk- patrick Fund, supported by founda- tion grants and individuals' contri- butions, to fund other activities, including the APSA Archives and the Pi Sigma Alpha Oral History Project. As head of the National Office, Kirk helped to open the Associa- tion to African-Americans and women. He actively encouraged the Council to establish the Com- mittee on the Status of Blacks in the Profession and the Committee on the Status of Women in the Pro- fession, and to establish and fund the APSA Black Fellowships. One of his proudest moments came in 1980 when, in recognition of his encouragement of black political scientists, the Committee on the Status of Blacks in the Profession honored Kirk with its Annual Award. Another came in 1980 when the Association gave him the Charles E. Merriam award for "sig- nificant contributions to the art of government through the application of social science." During his 27 years as Executive Director, Kirk pursued two main goals: professionalizing the Na- tional Office so as to maximize its ability to serve APSA members in their teaching, research, and public service; and enhancing the visibility and reputation of political science. One of his early initiatives in the pursuit of the first goal was to con- vince the program committees for the Association's annual meetings to go beyond the ex tempore un- written statements that had too long been the center of the panels and replace them with article-length papers prepared in advance of the meeting, duplicated by the paper givers' institutions, distributed to the panel discussants, and sold to any interested buyer. He also en- couraged publishers to rent space at the annual meetings to display and discuss their books with inter- ested members. Most political sci- entists today take these arrange- ments for granted, but in the 1950s they were major innovations. Under Kirk's leadership, the As- sociation obtained several grants from private foundations to fund summer seminars bringing political September 1995 543 People in Political Science scientists from smaller colleges to- gether with colleagues from the large research universities so that both could refresh their knowledge of current research findings and give and receive tips about effec- tive teaching. Since that initial foray into educational improve- ment, the Association, under the leadership of Sheilah Mann, has developed an extraordinarily rich array of education programs, funded by private foundations and public agencies, designed to im- prove the quality of teaching and learning at all levels from K-12 to undergraduate, graduate, and con- tinuing professional education. Kirk also secured a number of grants to support other Association activities. For example, he negoti- ated a large multiyear grant from the Ford Foundation to support one of the Association's most suc- cessful ventures, the Congressional Fellowship Program. Years later, under Cathy Rudder's leadership, the Association received a large grant from MCI for a permanent endowment of the program. During Kirk's tenure the Associ- ation also won grants to fund such activities as the orientation pro- grams for newly elected members of Congress, seminars for leaders of state legislatures, selection of journalists for excellence in politi- cal reporting and bringing them to- gether in summer seminars with leading political scientists. Other grants won by the Association un- der Kirk's leadership funded for- eign political scientists' travel to and participation in APSA's annual meetings. When Kirk took office, the Na- tional Science Foundation's pro- gram of fellowships and grants for the social and behavioral sciences did not include political science. Kirk, with the help of many politi- cal scientists and members of Con- gress who had benefited from the Congressional Fellowship Program, persuaded NSF to include political science. Consequently, since 1960, doctoral candidates in political sci- ence have received NSF grants for dissertation research, political sci- ence faculty members have re- ceived NSF research grants, and several multi-institutional grants have been made, notably for the establishment and continuing sup- port of the National Election Studies. His experience with NSF prompted Kirk to have regular con- sultations with his counterparts in the national offices of other social science associations, and after sev- eral years of informal consultation the associations joined in establish- ing the Consortium of Social Sci- ence Associations (COSSA), which has since played a major role in advocating continued federal sup- port for teaching and research in the social sciences. Thus, Kirk had remarkable suc- cess in his many efforts to improve the quality, support, and public vis- ibility and reputation of political science. No small part of his suc- cess came from the able and expe- rienced staff he recruited for the national office. His style as an ad- ministrator was to choose good people, give them full responsibility for their assignments, refrain from peering over their shoulders when they were carrying out those as- signments, and give them full psy- chological and logistical support. Walter Beach, Mark Ferber, Mae King, Sheilah Mann, Tom Mann, Nancy Ranney, John Stewart, and Maurice Woodard, among others, found working for him profession- ally enriching and personally re- warding. They and other staff mem- bers speak warmly of their loyalty and affection for him. Indeed, it is widely said that under Kirk's lead- ership the APSA national office be- came a model for its counterparts in other disciplines, several of have which adapted Kirk's policies for the reorganization of their own of- fices and operations. One of the sources for Kirk's great success as Executive Director was his experience and success as a teacher. During his service at the University of Minnesota (1935- 1948), Kirk inspired a number of talented students not only to study political science but also to take an active part in politics. The best- known of these students was Hu- bert Humphrey, who often called on Kirk for counsel and support throughout his long and distin- guished career. The list of Kirk's Minnesota students also includes such eminent public figures as Or- ville Freeman, Max Kampelman, Arthur Naftalin, Richard Scammon, Elmer Staats, and Eric Sevareid, and such eminent academics as Herbert McClosky and Howard Penniman. Many other political sci- entists who never took a course from Kirk nevertheless regard themselves as his students as well as his friends—a group that cer- tainly includes Heinz Eulau, Tom Mann, Warren Miller, Nelson Polsby, Jack Peltason, and Austin Ranney. So every political scientist should remember Kirk's great contribu- tions to our Association and profes- sion. Those of us who were fortu- nate to know him personally will also remember Kirk's rich human qualities: his love of good food (es- pecially provencal), good wine (any burgundy), good football teams (the Redskins), and good books (any- thing by Karl Popper and Harold Lasswell, but especially Popper's The Open Society and Its Enemies). We will also remember his unflap- pable disposition through many dis- ciplinary disputes and organiza- tional crises (it helped, someone once observed, that he was deaf in one ear). Perhaps most of all, we will remember how generously he gave us good counsel, warm friend- ship, and unfailing support. In his essay On Self-Reliance, Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "An institution is the lengthened shadow of one man." Of no institution or man is that more true than of the American Political Science Associ- ation and Kirk. Much of what is good about teaching and research in political science and satisfying in the careers of political scientists is Kirk's legacy to us. We will never forget him. Austin Ranney University of California, Berkeley James D. Cochrane James D. Cochrane was born in 1938 in Cherokee, Iowa. He died on March 23, 1995, in New Orleans, after a long illness. He received his B.A. degree at Morningside Col- lege, in Sioux City, and his M.A. 544 PS: Political Science & Politics 
work_se2yv3zwfbbb5no37edmz76fle	----	Creativity in poetic expression: A contrastive analysis of pseudo-longinus 1877-0428 © 2010 Published by Elsevier Ltd. doi:10.1016/j.sbspro.2010.03.766 Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences 2 (2010) 4768–4772 Available online at www.sciencedirect.com WCES-2010 Creativity in poetic expression: A contrastive analysis of pseudo-longinus Munazza Batool Tahira * aDepartment of English Bahauddin Zakariya University Multan, Pakistan Received November 8, 2009; revised December 9, 2009; accepted January 20, 2010 Abstract This paper is an endeavour to explore the divine reality that creativity in Art, particularly in poetry, is not confined to the use of formalistic poetic style and language. Language of art is a way as well as a mean in itself. The writer flows ahead in mind, body and soul in a state of divine frenzy. With the linguistic and stylistic analysis of an Urdu poem ‘Departmental Store mein’ [In a Departmental Store], by a Pakistani poetess Parveen Shakir, I try to show that the poetess ascends beyond the poetic boundaries. The research analyzes a sharp contrast to Longinus concept of sublimity. Keywords: Poetic expression; creativity; parveen shakir; longinus; sublimity. Introduction Critics assert sublimity as the litmus test of great poetry which according to Longinus is based on elevated thoughts, noble diction, figures of speech and dignified word arrangement. “Divinity School Address” delivered in July 1838, Ralph Waldo Emerson stated, “For all our penny wisdom, for all our soul-destroying slavery to habit, it is not to be doubted that all men have sublime thoughts.” Thus sublimity lies in every creative artist but with a difference. Shakespeare’s sublimity marks a clear difference with that of Milton. Wordsworth, Keats, Coleridge and Eliot are sublime in their own style. Thomas Hardy creates his own theory of the sublime by questioning the miracles, mysteries, and purpose of nature and the terror of unknowing. Hardy's theory of the duality of nature, of its grandeur and gloom scores a characteristic of his sublime. They all use lofty language and flowery images. But the present study elaborates that sublimity in poetry does not necessarily hinge on these postulates and can be characterized by simple diction as exemplified by Parveen Shakir in this poem “Departmental Store Mein” [In a Departmental Store]. The poem is simple, effortless and straightforward expression of a female, while shopping in a departmental store where she sorts out different accessories of her everyday use when suddenly her eyes catch sight of a scent placed in a corner. Her mind propelled her to test the fragrance. As soon she smells the aroma, her mind blazes with the fragrance that always spring from her beloved’s outfit. The poem in fact is a very bold utterance of poetess’ intense * Munazza Batool Tahir. Tel.: +92-333-7315858 E-mail address: muhab513@hotmail.com © 2010 Elsevier Ltd. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ Munazza Batool Tahir / Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences 2 (2010) 4768–4772 4769 love, which is considered immodest in Asian society and as well in Urdu poetry. It breaks the tenets of ‘Sublimity’ in the work of art, as documented by Longinus in his book ‘On the Sublime’. Parveen’s free verse is much bolder, modern and up-to-date. She is known for having employed the usage of pop culture references and English words and phrases, which have mixed up with Urdu, in her free verse - a practice that is both generally considered inappropriate, and criticized, in Urdu poetry. In the poem Departmental Store Mein [In a Departmental Store], which is named thus despite the fact that there the term 'departmental store' could easily have been substituted with its Urdu equivalent, and where words like 'natural pink,' 'hand lotion,' 'shade,' 'scent' and 'pack' are brought into use, and references made to cosmetics brands like, Pearl, Revlon, Elizabeth Arden, and Tulip. The poetess herself studied and taught English Literature. She started writing at an early age, published her first volume of poetry Khushbu [Fragrance]1976 subsequently publishing other volumes of poetry - all well-received - including Inkaar [Refusal]1990, Sad-barg [Marsh Marigold]1980, Khud Kalami [Conversing with the Self] 1990 and Kaf-e-Aa'ina [The Edge of the Mirror]1994, besides a collection of her newspaper columns, titled Gosha-e-Chashm [The Sight Corner]. Her first book, Khushboo, won the Adamjee Award. Later she was awarded on of the Pakistan’s highest honours, the Pride of Performance. Her poetry was a breath of fresh air in Urdu poetry. She used the first person feminine pronoun, which is rarely used in Urdu poetry even by female poets and created sublimity out of a simple language, natural expression and most simple relationship of man and woman. Categorical Contrastive Analysis: 1: Defect in matters of passion … unseasonable and empty passion, where no passion is required, or immoderate, where moderation is needed. For men are often carried away, as if by intoxication, into displays of emotion which are not caused by the nature of the subject, but are purely personal and wearisome. The great passions, when left to their own blind and rash impulses without the control of reason, are in the same danger as a ship let drive at random without ballast. Often they need the spur, but sometimes also the curb. Personal Emotion as well the display of personal emotion is equally a subject of poetic writing and interest. The poetess describes an experience, entirely personal but not tedious to be a poetic matter. Wings of poesy are not mentored to fly in a single direction. Passion is a philosophical interpretation of emotion, in which mental and psychological states are associated with a wide variety of feelings, thoughts and behaviour. Further, Wikipedia defines emotions as subjective experiences associated with mood, temperaments, personality and disposition. Therefore, it measures no scale; seasonable or unseasonable it all depends upon the person who’s creating a work of art that what counts propitious and what not. The whole age of Romanticism is an outcome of personal experiences whether it is Wordsworth or Keats. Bombast is said to be a mode hardly avoided by writers; “Who fails in great endeavor, nobly fails”. The poem in analysis actually endeavors to highlight a single emotion and thus is a bravado expression of affectation. It presents the apparently random thoughts going through a person's head within a certain time interval, in which the transitional links are psychological rather than logical. 2: All these ugly and parasitical growths arise in literature from a single cause, that pursuit of novelty in the expression of ideas which may be regarded as the fashionable craze of the day. Without novelty, the literature is stale and stagnant. From Puritan to Renaissance, Victorian, Romantic age and onwards all spring from this craze of striking new thoughts- what Longinus explain as ‘the most childish absurdities’. The pursuit of novelty in thoughts is considered as the cause of ‘improprieties of language’. I hereby believe that it is the only cause which owes to the coining of new words and phrases in the language. 3: The effect of elevated language upon an audience is not persuasion but transport. Language is bound to be elevated. Persuasion is a process of steering people towards the embracement of an idea, approach or viewpoint by rational and symbolic (not always logical) means. The poem in analysis does perform the function of transportation. The language is allusive rather metaphorical. Here I would like to draw upon the reference to T. S. Eliot; his poetry is usually described as allusive because of his constant references to names, places or images that may only make sense in the light of prior knowledge. His first remarkable publication ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock’ is regarded as the masterpiece of modernist movement. An iconoclastic movement in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century which challenged the traditional forms of art, architecture, literature, religious faith, social organization and daily life were becoming outdated in the new economic, social and political conditions of an emerging fully industrialized world marking self-consciousness as its projecting feature. Similarly, in this poem she gives simple references, not the crafted ones, like Tulip shampoo. Tulip is a national 4770 Munazza Batool Tahir / Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences 2 (2010) 4768–4772 flower of Holland. According to Persian legend, the first tulips sprang up from the drops of blood shed by a lover and for a long time the tulip was the symbol of avowed love. 4: So also in the case of sublimity in poems and prose writings, we must consider whether some supposed examples have not simply the appearance of elevation with many idle accretions, so that when analyzed they are found to be mere vanity--objects which a noble nature will rather despise than admire. The audience reception, according to Longinus concept is biased, that the material should be sublime and for a sublime and noble class reader only. In general we may regard those words as truly noble and sublime which always please and please all readers. For when the same book always produces the same impression on all who read it, whatever be the difference in their pursuits, their manner of life, their aspirations, their ages, or their language, such a harmony of opposites gives irresistible authority to their favorable verdict. Reception theory, proposed by Stuart Hall a cultural theorist and sociologist, emphasizes the reader's reception of a literary text or media. This means that a "text"—be it a book, movie, or other creative work—is not simply passively accepted by the audience, but that the reader / viewer interprets the meanings of the text based on their individual cultural background and life experiences. In essence, the meaning of a text is not inherent within the text itself, but is created within the relationship between the text and the reader. A basic acceptance of the meaning of a specific text tends to occur when a group of readers have a shared cultural background and interpret the text in similar ways, otherwise their reading of a text will vary greatly. 5: There are, it may be said, five principal sources of elevated language. i). First and most important is the power of forming great conceptions… Every individual’s conception is great. It is not required that only the work of art dealing with great heroes and kings is only a great conception. Poetry of a layman by Faiz, a romantic Wordsworth or a beauty lover Keats is equally a creation to be admired than despised. Creativity in art is unaccountable of a series of greater conceptions, in which ‘great’ itself is an arbitrary term, for what is great for Longinus may not be great for Parveen Shakir and vice versa. Longinus terms puerility, as a failing of feeble and narrow minds,—indeed, the most ignoble of all vices in writing ….. a pedantic habit of mind, which by over-elaboration ends in frigidity. Slips of this sort are made by those who, aiming at brilliancy, polish, and especially attractiveness, are landed in paltriness and silly affectation. Puerility is considered to be ‘diametrically opposed to grandeur’. Grandeur here refers to sumptuousness, luxury and lavishness in the creativity of art. Therefore, Writer’s input as well as the Reader’s output (point 3) both are subjects to grandeur- an opulent display of elevated language. According to Wikipedia, in colloquial usage, one who is said to have 'delusions of grandeur' is considered to be one who overestimates ones own abilities, talents or situation. ii). Secondly, there is vehement and inspired passion. These two components of the sublime are for the most part innate. Those which remain are partly the product of art. Intense passion blended with innateness can not be formulated or devised under certain rules. Fervent and vigorous passion is like an unshackled horse, when bridled looses its natural pace. (Reference to Point 1) iii). The due formation of figures deals with two sorts of figures, first those of thought and secondly those of expression. Expression needs no boundaries. Poetry is a three dimensional process; feelings, expression and medium. There are as various definitions of poetry as there are poets. Wordsworth defined poetry as "the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings;" Emily Dickinson said, "If I read a book and it makes my body so cold no fire ever can warm me, I know that is poetry;" and Dylan Thomas defined poetry this way: "Poetry is what makes me laugh or cry or yawn, what makes my toenails twinkle, what makes me want to do this or that or nothing." Most of the definitions encircle feelings and emotions, and thus defined them as indefinable. iv). Next there is noble diction, which in turn comprises choice of words, and use of metaphors, and elaboration of language. Noble diction is not about grand language. She created sublimity out of a simple language, natural expression and most simple relationship of man and woman. The ‘Banafshi’ colour is a colour of feminine romance in Urdu and especially Punjabi literature. That fragrance is actually an association of his memories for her, for which she doesn’t need to have material things. v). The fifth cause of elevation--one which is the fitting conclusion of all that have preceded it--is dignified and elevated composition. Munazza Batool Tahir / Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences 2 (2010) 4768–4772 4771 It is free verse, written in a very simple style. It is close to heart because creativity in art is empirical not formulistic. At the same time, composition is equally simple and serene entirely conveying the meaning and emotion. The word ‘dignified’ is from ‘dignity’ which Wikipedia defines as a term used in moral, ethical and political discussions to signify that a being has an innate right to respect and ethical treatment and thus is closely related to concepts like virtue, respect, self-respect, autonomy, human rights and reason. In Asia, and particularly in Pakistan, expression of love is always by a male never by a female and the one doing so is considered brazen, shameless and having no cultural values. The poetess transcends the so-called ethical boundaries of Asian society, where female expression of love is considered immoral, unethical and against the dignity of a female. Arguably, Parveen Shakir can be termed the first poetess to use the word larki (girl) in her works-the male-dominated Urdu poetry scene seldom employs that word, and uses masculine syntax when talking about the 'lover'. Similarly, she often made use of the Urdu first-person, feminine pronoun in her verses which, though extremely common in prose, was rarely used in poetry, even by female poetesses, before her. Appendix Departmental Store Mein (Urdu Version) Pearl ka natural pink, Revlon hand lotion, Elizabeth Arden ka blush on bhi, Medora mei phir nail polish ka koi naya shade aye? Mere iss banafshi doppate sae milti hui Rimmel mei lipstick mile ge? Han wo Tulip ka shampoo bhi dijye ga Yad aya Kuch roz pehle jo tewzer liya tha,,wo bilkul he bekar nikla, Dosra dijye ga! Zara bill bana dijye! Arey! wo jo koney mei aik scent raka hua hai Dikhaein zara, Issy test kar ke tu dekhon (Khudaya! Khudaya: Ye khusbu tu us ki pasandede khushbu rahi hai Sada uss k maloboos sae phoot’ti thi!) Zara is ski qemat bata dein! Iss qadar!! Acha, yun kijiye Baqi cheezein kabhi aur ley jaon ge Aaj tu sirf iss scent ko pack kar dijiye! In a Departmental Store (English Translation) “Pearl natural pink, Revlon hand lotion, Elizabeth Arden blush-on, Did any new shade of Medora nail paint appear recently? Any matching of Rimmel lipstick, Available with this violet stole of mine? 4772 Munazza Batool Tahir / Procedia Social and Behavioral Sciences 2 (2010) 4768–4772 And yes, do pack the Tulip shampoo as well! I remember, The tweezers, I purchased a few days back, was defaulted Give me another one! Make the bill please! Hey, that scent in the corner Can you show me! Let me test it (O God! O God! It has been his favourite fragrance; That always sprung from his attire) “How does it cost! So much!! Alright, will ask for the remaining stuff some other day For today, just pack this scent!” 
work_sf2fhgwauva25noqh2yl3lnzoy	----	ISI BUKU MANUSIA DAN TANAH: KEHILANGAN DAN KOMPENSASI DALAM KASUS LAPINDO Anton Novenanto1 Abstract: Abstract: Abstract: Abstract: Abstract: The paper is trying to discuss on how land forms social relation and what happens when the relation is forced to be ended. Two types of social relationship will be discussed. They are human-human and human-land relationship. The two relations are getting more sophisticated due to the lost of land. Based on Lapindo case, the discussion on how the compen- sation is given to those undergoing the lost of land. This causes a new problem. There is a unique relation between man and his land- that is not only the relation on economic value but also on cultural value. This paper, later on, is offering the agrarian reflective thinking on the lost of land and its compensation. KKKKKeyworeyworeyworeyworeywordsdsdsdsds: land, compensation, lost, sense of belongs, Lapindo case AbstrakAbstrakAbstrakAbstrakAbstrak: Artikel ini membahas bagaimana tanah membentuk relasi sosial dan apa yang terjadi bila relasi itu diputus paksa. Artikel ini mengangkat dua jenis relasi sosial, yaitu relasi antar-aktor manusia dan antara manusia dengan tanah. Kedua relasi tersebut semakin kompleks seiring dengan hilangnya tanah secara paksa. Berangkat dari kasus Lapindo, artikel ini mendiskusikan bagaimana “kompensasi” yang diterapkan untuk mengganti “kehilangan” yang dialami manusia justru memunculkan permasalahan baru. Argumen yang diangkat sangat umum, bahwa relasi manusia dengan tanahnya sangat unik karena pada tanah manusia tidak hanya melekatkan nilai ekonomi tapi juga nilai sosial dan budaya. Dengan demikian, artikel ini hendak menawarkan bahan refleksi bagi studi agraria untuk memikirkan kembali tentang konsep “kehilangan” dan “kompensasi” atas tanah. Kata kunciKata kunciKata kunciKata kunciKata kunci: tanah, kompensasi, kehilangan, rasa memiliki, kasus Lapindo A. Pendahuluan Bagaimana rasanya kehilangan? Pada sebuah perjumpaan, saya bertanya pada seorang informan perempuan korban Lapindo tentang apakah dia menyimpan foto rumah lamanya yang tenggelam dalam luapan lumpur. Sang informan yang sebelumnya bergelora menyampaikan pada saya tentang ketidakadilan yang bertubi-tubi Untuk semua yang sudah kamu hilangkan, kamu memperoleh sesuatu; dan untuk semua yang sudah kamu peroleh, kamu kehilangan sesuatu. – Ralph Waldo Emerson menderanya selama menuntut haknya sebagai korban Lapindo, sebagai warganegara yang terabaikan, tiba-tiba terdiam. Air matanya menetes, dia menangis. Saya tidak tahu apa yang dipikirkannya sekaligus khawatir atas apa yang akan terjadi bila berusaha menenangkannya. Saya memilih diam, menunggu. Setelah emosinya mereda, dia mulai bercerita bahwa semua foto rumah lama mereka, disembunyikan suaminya. Alasannya, sang suami tidak ingin melihatnya menangis begitu teringat rumah mereka yang sudah terendam lumpur. Sang suami memutuskan menyembunyikan seluruh foto rumah mereka dan 1 Penulis adalah pengajar pada Jurusan Sosiologi, FISIP, Universitas Brawijaya, Malang; kandidat doktor pada Institut für Ethnologie, Ruprecht-Karls- Universität Heidelberg, Jerman; dapat dihubungi di nino@ub.ac.id Diterima: 3 April 2015 Disetujui: 30 Mei 2015Direview: 21 Mei 2015 2 Bhumi Vol. 1, No. 1, Mei 2015 berusaha memutus segala kenangannya atas rumah itu. Sang informan melanjutkan cerita tentang biaya pembangunan rumah yang diperolehnya dari hasil keringatnya selama bekerja sebagai tenaga kerja wanita (TKW) di Hong Kong. Setiap bulan dia menyisihkan sebagian upahnya untuk dikirim kepada sang suami guna membangun rumah di Desa Siring, Kecamatan Porong, Kabupaten Sidoarjo. Setelah rumah itu berdiri, dia pulang ke Indonesia, kembali bergabung bersama suami dan anaknya. Tapi belum genap dua tahun dia meng- huninya, lumpur Lapindo menyembur dan menenggelamkan rumah hasil jerih payahnya itu. Dalam kasus konf lik/sengketa agraria, kita sering menjumpai gagasan bahwa kompensasi atas tanah perlu mempertimbangkan faktor sosial dan budaya dari tanah tersebut. Namun, dalam praktiknya di Indonesia, kompensasi atas tanah tidak pernah melampaui fungsi tanah sebagai “komoditas” yang punya nilai tukar dengan mengacu pada nilai jual objek pajak (NJOP) yang berlaku di suatu daerah. Jual beli adalah praktik yang umum dan juga diberlakukan pada korban Lapindo, nilai kompensasi yang diterima korban dihitung berdasarkan luas tanah dan bangunan yang dimilikinya. Praktik semacam ini mengandung beberapa permasalahan mendasar. Pertama, penerima kompensasi adalah “pemilik aset,” orang yang namanya tertera di atas sertif ikat tanah dan bangunan, yang belum tentu menghuninya. Kedua, kompleksitas problem semakin berlipat karena sebagian besar warga hanya berpegang pada berkas ekstra-legal (letter C atau pethok D) dan tidak memiliki sertipikat “resmi” (keluaran BPN) atas aset tersebut itu. Ketiga, mengacu pada UUPA 5/1960, setiap petak tanah yang dibeli perusahaan (termasuk Lapindo) status kepemilikannya akan menjadi “tanah negara,” yang memunculkan pertanyaan serius sehubungan dengan rencana pemerintah “menyita” tanah tersebut sebagai jaminan memberi pinjaman pada Lapindo. Dari kisah informan di awal tadi, kita menda- patkan contoh riil tentang bagaimana manusia melekatkan pada objek lebih dari sekadar nilai ekonomis atas fungsinya sebagai komoditas yang memiliki nilai tukar. Pada tanah, manusia mele- katkan nilai sosial dan budaya yang tak dapat semudah itu hilang dan justru semakin meningkat menyusul hilangnya. Oleh karenanya, kita tidak berbicara sekadar tentang hilangnya tanah sebagai objek, namun juga “perasaan kehilangan.” Artikel ini merepetisi argumen Stuart Kirsch tentang “(perasaan) kehilangan,” yang seperti halnya “(perasaan) memiliki,” adalah manifestasi dari relasi sosial (2001a, 168–9). Mengambil contoh kasus Lapindo, artikel ini hendak mengangkat bahwa “perasaan kehilangan” cenderung menguat akibat pemutusan paksa manusia dari tanah huniannya. Cerita informan dalam paragraf pembuka hanyalah satu dari pelbagai kisah yang dapat ditemukan pada kasus pemindahan paksa di tempat lain (bdk. Oliver-Smith 2010). Belajar dari kasus Lapindo, artikel ini hendak menawarkan sebuah bahan refleksi yang mungkin berguna bagi peminat studi agraria untuk memikirkan kembali tentang “kehilangan” dan “kompensasi” atas tanah. B. “Kompensasi” bagi Korban Lapindo2 Sepanjang sejarah berdirinya republik ini mungkin tidak ada f itur ekologi yang lebih menarik dikaji dengan kacamata politik-ekologi diban- dingkan kemunculan lumpur panas di Porong, Jawa 2 Bagian ini hanya memberi gambaran sekilas ten- tang kasus Lapindo untuk memberi konteks relasi ma- nusia dan tanah yang akan dibahas. Di antara beragam literatur yang membahas tentang kasus Lapindo, ada beberapa yang layak dipertimbangkan berdasar tema: dampak ekonomi dan ekologi (McMichael 2009), politik-ekonomi (Batubara & Utomo 2012; Schiller et al 2008), identitas korban (Drake, 2012, 2013), konstruksi media massa (Novenanto et al 2013), organisasi non- pemerintah (Hamdi, Hafidz, & Sauter 2009). Bagi pembaca yang berniat untuk menelusuri kasus Lapindo disarankan untuk merujuk literatur tersebut. 3Anton Novenanto: Manusia dan Tanah: 1-11 Timur. Lumpur Lapindo adalah gunung lumpur3 terbesar di dunia; yang pertama diterima manusia sebagai “bencana” (Novenanto 2010). Sejak lahirnya, pada 29 Mei 2006, lumpur Lapindo telah menenggelamkan lebih dari 800 hektar wilayah terdiri dari kawasan permukiman, lahan pertanian, pabrik, sekolah, masjid, dan fasilitas publik lainnya. Pada setahun pertama, pemerintah menghitung kerugian ekonomi makro yang diderita mencapai Rp.28,3 trilyun (BPK 2007; Bappenas 2007). Penanganan bencana lumpur Lapindo menjadi lebih rumit daripada bencana yang lain karena banyak orang meyakininya sebagai “antropogenik,” disebabkan oleh kelalaian Lapindo Brantas Inc saat melakukan pengeboran sumur gas alam Banjar Panji 1. Sementara itu, Lapindo dan pemerintah berusaha untuk menggiring opini publik pada pemahaman bahwa lumpur itu muncul secara “alamiah,” dipicu oleh gempa bumi. Lapindo adalah satu anak perusahaan Grup Bakrie dan posisi ini menguntungkan Lapindo. Posisi strategis Aburizal Bakrie, f igur penting keluarga Bakrie, adalah kunci bagi Lapindo menghadapi krisis akibat lumpur itu (Schiller, Lucas & Sulistiyanto 2008). Saat semburan, Aburizal duduk sebagai Menteri Koordinator Kesejahteraan Rakyat (2004-2009) dan sekalipun tidak lagi duduk di kabinet sejak 2009, Aburizal terpilih sebagai ketua umum Partai Golkar. Dengan posisi semacam itu, sangat mudah bagi Aburizal untuk mengin- tervensi politik bencana lumpur Lapindo melalui penempatan kader Golkar di eksekutif maupun di legislatif (Novenanto 2015). Selain itu, Grup Bakrie adalah induk dari sebuah stasiun televisi berita besar di Indonesia, TVOne, yang semakin memu- dahkan Lapindo mengendalikan opini publik tentang kelalaian yang dilakukannya di Banjar Panji 1 (Andriarti & Novenanto 2013). Sampai sekarang, semburan lumpur Lapindo dan permasalahan yang melekat pada dan diakibatkan olehnya belum juga berakhir. Para ahli geologi memperkirakan bahwa lumpur masih akan terus menyembur dalam volume yang sama sampai tiga dekade dan masih akan terus keluar dengan jumlah lebih kecil selama ratusan tahun lagi (Davies, Mathias; Swarbrick & Tingay 2011). Sementara itu, tanah di sekitar semburan terus mengalami amblesan (Abidin, Davies; Kusuma, Andreas; & Deguchi 2009) mengakibatkan degradasi kualitas tanah di wilayah yang lebih luas lagi. Kini, luapan lumpur Lapindo telah menga- kibatkan pengosongan wilayah yang mencakup 15 (lima belas) desa/kelurahan di tiga kecamatan di Kabupaten Sidoarjo, yang merupakan hunian bagi lebih dari 150.000 penduduk. Kelima belas desa/ kelurahan itu adalah: Gempolsari, Kedungbendo, Kalitengah, dan Ketapang di Kecamatan Tang- gulangin; Renokenongo, Glagaharum, Siring, Gedang, Jatirejo, Mindi, dan Porong di Kecamatan Porong; serta Kedungcangkring, Pejarakan, dan Besuki di Kecamatan Jabon. Para penduduk harus mencari hunian baru dan membuka lembaran baru kehidupannya, bersamaan dengan itu mereka juga harus mengatasi perasaan kehilangan tanah yang terbenam lumpur. Sebagai pengganti kerugian dan kehilangan yang dideritanya, warga mendapatkan “kompen- sasi” yang bentuk dan besarannya muncul dari penghitungan spontan Wakil Bupati (sekarang Bupati Sidoarjo Saiful Ilah) pada pertengahan Sep- tember 2006 (Karib 2012, hlm. 67–68). Konteksnya, ada kebutuhan mendesak untuk membangun tanggul di Desa Jatirejo agar luberan lumpur tidak meluas. Saiful, dikawal oleh aparat militer, 3Gunung lumpur (mud volcano) adalah fenomena alam yang jamak ditemui di bumi ini. Keberadaannya selalu berdekatan dengan sumber-sumber hidrokarbon (minyak dan gas bumi) (Higgins & Saunders 1974). Berdasarkan catatan kolonial, di Pulau Jawa sendiri ter- catat beberapa gunung lumpur yang dinamai oleh pen- duduk lokal “bledug.” Salah satu yang paling terkenal mungkin Bledug Kuwu di Grobogan, Jawa Tengah (Goad 1817). 4 Bhumi Vol. 1, No. 1, Mei 2015 menemui 12 (dua belas) warga Jatirejo dan mem- bujuk mereka untuk menjual tanah dan rumahnya untuk keperluan penanggulan itu. Dia menawar- kan harga satu juta rupiah per meter persegi tanah kering dan 1,5 juta rupiah per meter persegi bangunan. Alasannya, harga itu sudah jauh di atas rata-rata ketentuan pemerintah untuk mengom- pensasi pembangunan ataupun bantuan bencana. Warga yang berada di bawah ancaman f isik dari lumpur panas dan tekanan psikologis dari pemerintah tak punya pilihan lagi selain menerima tawaran tersebut. Informasi tentang transaksi aset kedua belas warga itu menyebar luas ke korban lainnya dan desakan mereka menuntut “kompensasi” dari Lapindo semakin menguat. Negosiasi berlangsung alot dan baru pada awal Desember 2006 usaha tersebut berbuah hasil. Melalui surat yang ditujukan pada Tim Nasional Penanggulangan Lumpur Panas Sidoarjo (Timnas), tertanggal 4 Desember 2006, Lapindo menyatakan kesang- gupannya untuk memenuhi tuntutan warga itu sebagai bentuk “kepedulian sosial dan tanggung- jawab moral” perusahaan. Lapindo akan “membeli” aset (tanah dan bangunan) warga didasarkan pada penghitungan nilai tukar yang berlaku pada dua belas warga Jatirejo dengan ditambah ketentuan nilai tukar tanah sawah sebesar 120 ribu rupiah per meter persegi. Keputusan Lapindo tersebut men- dapatkan legalitas hukum setelah keluarnya Perpres 14/2007 yang mencantumkan tentang kewajiban Lapindo “membeli” tanah dan bangunan warga (Pasal 15 ayat 1). Dengan ketentuan ini, yang diperhitungkan sebagai “korban” bukanlah manusia, melainkan aset (i.e. tanah dan bangunan). Juga, tidak ada pembedaan penghitungan berdasarkan jenis peruntukkan aset, apakah itu aset produktif atau konsumtif. Berdasarkan hasil wawancara dengan beberapa korban, harga tanah kering sebelum lumpur menyembur rata-rata berkisar antara 75.000 dan 150.000 rupiah per meter persegi. Kalau pun ada yang lebih mahal dari harga itu biasanya karena berada di pinggir jalan besar ataupun untuk keperluan industri. Dengan demikian, nilai tukar yang ditawarkan pada warga atas aset mereka yang terbenam lumpur Lapindo jauh di atas NJOP di Porong, bahkan di Kabupaten Sidoarjo. Kenyataan ini berulang kali dilontarkan pihak Lapindo untuk mengklaim bahwa nilai tukar yang ditawarkan oleh perusahaan jauh dari harga “normal.” Perpres 14/2007 juga mengatur pembatasan tanggung jawab Lapindo hanya pada wilayah yang tercantum di dalam peta area terdampak 22 Maret 2007, sementara wilayah di luar peta adalah ke- wajiban pemerintah (Pasal 15 ayat 3). Dan begitulah adanya, seiring dengan meluasnya dampak luapan lumpur Lapindo, pemerintah merevisi Perpres 14/ 2007 dengan menerbitkan peraturan baru. Hingga tulisan ini dibuat, telah terjadi lima kali perubahan yaitu pada 17 Juli 2008 (Perpres 48/2008), 23 Sep- tember 2009 (Perpres 40/2009), 27 September 2011 (Perpres 68/2011), 5 April 2012 (Perpres 37/2012), dan 8 Mei 2013 (Perpres 33/2013). Setiap revisi menan- dakan perluasan wilayah yang akan dibeli oleh pemerintah, tidak lagi oleh Lapindo. C. Aktor, Objek, dan Kompensasi Ada dua pendekatan yang dapat digunakan untuk membahas persoalan pertanahan. Pertama, pendekatan politik-ekologi4 yang menekankan pada peran aktor manusia dan bagaimana mereka terlibat dalam relasi-relasi kuasa memperebutkan akses terhadap tanah. Pendekatan semacam ini, yang cukup populer di kalangan peneliti persoalan agraria di Indonesia belakangan ini, saya sebut dengan “pendekatan aktor” dan cenderung bersifat sosiologis. Pendekatan ini perlu dipahami sebagai satu dimensi dalam studi politik-ekologi yang diusulkan oleh duo geografer Inggris Raymond 4 Saya sengaja menggunakan istilah “politik- ekologi,” bukan “ekologi politik” – seperti halnya saya lebih sepakat penggunaan istilah “politik-ekonomi” ketimbang “ekonomi politik.” 5Anton Novenanto: Manusia dan Tanah: 1-11 Bryant dan Sinéad Bailey (1997)5 yang berangkat dari pendekatan neo-Marxist dalam menganalisis peran aktor, utamanya negara dalam pengaturan (pengubahan/pelestarian) ekologi. Selain negara, juga ada aktor lain, yaitu lembaga dan perusahaan trans dan multi-nasional, organisasi non-peme- rintahan di Dunia Pertama dan di Dunia Ketiga, dan komunitas akar rumput. Pendekatan aktor berguna untuk mengurai relasi kuasa para aktor yang dipicu oleh keberadaan objek tertentu (yakni, tanah), akan tetapi konklusi yang ditarik nyaris seragam: negara tidak pernah aktif mengatasi konflik agraria, karena terdapat motif akumulasi kapital. Alih-alih mengatasinya, negara justru membiarkan konf lik itu terus berlanjut dan menunggunya tuntas melalui meka- nisme pasar. Jika pun negara hadir, perannya cenderung represif mendukung akumulator kapital demi terlaksananya “pembangunan untuk kepen- tingan umum” sekalipun itu harus dilakukan dengan mengabaikan eksistensi masyarakat akar rumput. Solusi yang ditawarkan adalah memantap- kan posisi negara untuk bersikap tegas menun- taskan segala konflik agraria di republik ini, sebuah solusi yang, seolah-olah, menempatkan negara sebagai satu-satunya aktor yang mampu menye- lesaikan permasalahan yang ada (Afandi 2013, Aprianto 2013, Cahyati 2014a, 2014b, Rachman 2013, Tohari 2013). Dengan demikian, pendekatan aktor cenderung mengabaikan analisis tentang tanah (objek yang menjadi alasan bagi terjadinya relasi kuasa) karena pendekatan ini memfokuskan pada relasi antar- manusia dan mengabaikan pembahasan soal relasi antara manusia dan objek. Stuart Kirsch (2001b, hlm. 147) menyebut relasi antar-manusia itu sebagai “transaksi” dan relasi manusia dan objek sebagai “kepemilikan.” Pada relasi “transaksi,” tanah diang- gap sebagai objek yang pasif, “yang dipolitisasi”oleh manusia (bdk. Bryant & Bailey 1997, hlm. 26, Bryant 1998, hlm. 82–83) sehingga persoalan hilangnya “kepemilikan” atas suatu objek dan kompensasi atas kehilangan itu tidak bisa diurai dengan baik. Untuk itu, dalam mendiskusikan “kehilangan” dan “kompensasi” tulisan ini juga akan mempertim- bangkan “pendekatan objek.”Sekalipun masih antroposentris, pendekatan kedua ini cenderung melihat bagaimana aktor terikat atau mengikatkan diri pada suatu objek, d.h.i. tanah. Pendekatan objek akan sangat membantu dalam menggali nilai-nilai yang dilekatkan manusia pada tanah dan membahas kadar “kehilangan” ketika manusia diputus paksa dari tanahnya. Nilai adalah persoalan budaya dan dengan demikian juga adalah persoalan identitas suatu komunitas. Argumen saya sederhana: kekhawatiran utama manusia bukanlah soal hilangnya tanah, melainkan lebih pada kekhawatiran akan hilangnya nilai-nilai yang sudah dilekatkan pada tanah tersebut. Argumen semacam ini ditujukan untuk memper- soalkan penyederhanaan yang selama ini dilakukan atas “kehilangan” dan “kompensasi.” Secara umum, “kompensasi” adalah bagaimana mengatasi ketidakseimbangan akibat kehilangan sesuatu/seseorang yang terjadi secara mendadak (Bäckman & Dixon 1992, Faure 2007, Sugarman 2007). Akan tetapi, berangkat dari kacamata f ilsafat hukum, “kompensasi” terkait dengan “hukuman” yang diberikan pada aktor-pelaku yang telah mengakibatkan ketidakseimbangan (Fletcher 1981, hlm. 693). Sementara “hukuman” titik tolaknya adalah pada aktor-pelaku, orientasi “kompensasi” adalah aktor-korban yang dirugikan akibat ketidakseimbangan yang terjadi. Mengacu pada argumen itu, kita dapat mendef inisikan “kompensasi” sebagai hak yang harus diterimakan 5 Bryant dan Bailey menulis buku berjudul Third World Political Ecology yang lahir dari kuliah yang di- asuh oleh Raymond Bryant, pengajar di Jurusan Geografi, King’s College, London, dengan judul yang sama. Sepanjang 1990an, Bryant telah menulis beberapa artikel yang menjadi bahan dasar penulisan buku tersebut. Sinéad Bailey adalah salah satu murid Bryant yang kemudian menjadi partner penelitian dan penu- lisan buku tersebut. 6 Bhumi Vol. 1, No. 1, Mei 2015 pada aktor-korban dari aktor-pelaku menyusul ketidakseimbangan akibat penghilangan sesuatu/ seseorang yang bernilai bagi aktor-korban oleh aktor-pelaku. Dengan demikian, “kompensasi” tidak sama dengan “bantuan” karena yang terakhir ini dapat berasal dari pihak manapun,tidak harus dari si pelaku, dan sifatnya sukarela. Tulis Fletcher, “kita dapat membantu korban dengan uang kita, tapi secara konseptual kita tidak sedang mengompen- sasi mereka” (1981, hlm. 699), sehingga sekalipun bentuk dan jumlahnya sama hakikat keduanya berbeda. D. Relasi Para Aktor Sekalipun terdapat perbedaan pendapat tentang pemicu semburan (kesalahan pengeboran atau gempa bumi), sebagian besar warga meyakini bahwa lumpur panas yang menghancurkan tanah mereka itu disebabkan oleh kelalaian Lapindo. Wacana “kelalaian Lapindo” telah mengendap menjadi “kebenaran” karena diperkuat pernyataan- pernyataan awal yang dilontarkan oleh aktor pen- ting dari pemerintah, ahli, dan bahkan dari pihak Lapindo – sebelum akhirnya banyak yang berpin- dah haluan (Batubara 2013; Mudhoff ir 2013; Novenanto 2013a, 2013b). Dalam konteks semacam ini, warga sedang menuntut pelaku untuk meng- ganti segala kerugian yang diderita sebagai akibat dari ulahnya itu; mereka tidak sedang meminta “bantuan,” tapi menuntut “kompensasi.” Sayangnya, tidak demikian yang terjadi dalam perjalanan kasus Lapindo. Seperti sudah dibahas pada bagian sebelum ini, terdapat perbedaan mendasar antara “kompensasi” dan “bantuan.” Sementara “kompensasi” mengan- daikan relasi antara “korban” (warga) dan “pelaku” (Lapindo), “bantuan” mengandaikan relasi antara “korban” (warga) dan “non-pelaku”(pemerintah). Kedua bentuk relasi itu berubah total pasca diterap- kannya mekanisme “jual beli,” yang berarti relasi yang melibatkan “penjual” (warga) dan “pembeli” (Lapindo/pemerintah) dengan objek transaksinya adalah aset di “dalam peta” dan “luar peta”. Yang dimaksud “peta” adalah peta area terdampak 22 Maret 2007, lampiran Perpres 14/2007. Transaksi tanah di “dalam peta” menjadi sangat rumit untuk diurai karena tidak hanya melibatkan aktor-penjual (warga) dan aktor-pembeli (Lapin- do), tapi juga aktor-pengatur (pemerintah). Seperti dibahas pada bagian sebelumnya, bentuk dan besaran “kompensasi” bagi korban Lapindo meru- pakan turunan dari kalkulasi spontan Wakil Bupati Sidoarjo, Saiful Ilah, untuk membeli tanah dan bangunan dua belas warga Jatirejo guna mem- bangun tanggul. Model jual beli dan nilai tukar aset itu diadopsi warga untuk mendesak Lapindo untuk mengompensasi mereka atas kelalaiannya. Legiti- masi atas transaksi tanah “dalam peta” adalah Per- pres 14/2007, yang secara sederhana dapat diilustrasikan seperti berikut: Bagan .1. Relasi aktor berbasis tanah “dalam peta” Perpres 14/2007 mengatur agar Lapindo membayar secara bertahap: 20 persen uang muka dan sisanya dibayarkan sekaligus tidak lebih dari waktu dua tahun setelah pembayaran pertama. Untuk mengurusi proses itu, Lapindo mendirikan anak perusahaan, Minarak Lapindo Jaya (MLJ). Pada kenyataannya, proses itu tidaklah semulus dan sesederhana seperti bayangan warga. Seperti banyak dibahas sebelumnya, jual beli tanah yang diatur Perpres 14/2007 bertentangan dengan UUPA 5/1960 (Gustomy 2012, Kurniawan 2012). Perusa- haan (Lapindo) bukanlah subjek hukum yang berhak membeli tanah. Mengacu UUPA, segala praktik jual beli tanah yang melibatkan perusahaan akan batal secara hukum dan status tanah akan 7Anton Novenanto: Manusia dan Tanah: 1-11 berubah menjadi “tanah negara.” Dengan demi- kian, Perpres 14/2007 membuka peluang bagi beragam tafsir hukum dan sosial atas apa yang dimaksudkan “Lapindo membeli tanah dan bangunan dari warga. “Pada 24 Maret 2008, BPN Pusat menerbitkan petunjuk pelaksanaan yang merinci alur mekanisme jual beli tanah “dalam peta” berdasarkan status tanah (tanah hak milik, tanah yasan/letter c/petok d/gogol, hak guna bangunan, dan aset pemerintah pusat/daerah). Dalam setiap alur itu disebutkan bahwa setelah terjadi ikatan jual beli status tanah akan menjadi “tanah negara” dan kemudian pemerintah akan memberikan “hak guna bangunan” pada Lapindo atas tanah tersebut (lih. Bagan 2). Bagan .2. Proses perubahan status tanah “dalam peta” Pada pertengahan 2008, MLJ menyatakan tidak sanggup melunasi seluruh sisa pembayaran secara tunai dan mengangkat kembali opsi “relokasi” dengan membarter nilai tukar aset warga dengan unit rumah baru di Kahuripan Nirvana Village (KNV), sebuah perumahan elite di bawah bendera Bakrieland. Dengan dalih transaksi jual beli tanah membutuhkan sertif ikat “resmi” dari BPN, MLJ memaksa warga tanpa sertif ikat tanah untuk mengambil opsi yang populer dengan istilah “cash and resettlement.” Sebagian besar warga yang ter- gabung dalam Gabungan Korban Lumpur Lapindo (GKLL) menerima opsi itu melalui mediasi budayawan Emha Ainun Nadjib (Cak Nun). Semen- tara itu, banyak juga warga yang menolak tawaran MLJ itu. Mereka menuntut pembayaran dilakukan sesuai Perpres 14/2007, yaitu tunai sekaligus. Kepada kelompok warga ini, pada Desember 2008, MLJ berjanji akan membayar kekurangan dengan cara cicilan sejumlah Rp 30 juta/bulan/berkas. Pada Februari, janji itu berubah menjadi Rp 15 juta/ bulan/berkas. Mulai Januari 2013, pembayaran cicilan itu berhenti karena MLJ menyatakan tidak punya uang lagi. Hingga kini, MLJ masih menunggak pada warga sebesar lebih dari Rp 700 milyar dan berharap pemerintah mau menalangi tunggakan itu. Melalui APBN Perubahan 2015, pemerintah menganggar- kan dana sebesar Rp.781,7 milyar untuk menalangi kekurangan pembayaran MLJ pada korban. Dana APBN itu sifatnya bukanlah bantuan (bail out), melainkan pinjaman bersyarat dan Lapindo/MLJ berkewajiban mengembalikannya. Sebelum men- cairkan dana itu, pemerintah harus mendapatkan jaminan dari Lapindo/MLJ berupa seluruh berkas tanah “dalam peta” yang akan diambil alih peme- rintah bila Lapindo/MLJ tidak dapat mengem- balikan dana pinjaman itu dalam kurun empat tahun. Jika keputusan itu betul dilaksanakan, maka terjadi perubahan drastis dalam relasi antara para aktor dalam transaksi tanah “dalam peta”: warga sebagai penjual, Lapindo sebagai pembeli, dan pemerintah sebagai talang/makelar dalam proses jual beli itu (lih. Bagan 3). Kelanjutan status tanah “dalam peta” akan amat tergantung pada apakah pemerintah akan memberikan “hak guna bangunan” tanah tersebut pada Lapindo atau me- nahannya. Bagan.3. Relasi bila pemerintah menalangi pembayaran tanah “dalam peta” Proses jual beli tanah di “luar peta” cenderung lebih mudah diurai karena Lapindo tidak lagi terlibat di dalamnya dan relasi hanya melibatkan aktor-penjual (warga) dan aktor-pembeli (peme- rintah).Tidak hanya itu, menurut Perpres 48/2008, status tanah setelah transaksi pun lebih jelas, yaitu 8 Bhumi Vol. 1, No. 1, Mei 2015 menjadi barang milik negara di bawah Menteri Keuangan dan dipergunakan oleh BPLS (Pasal 15c). Namun, transaksi tersebut masih menyisakan pertanyaan seputar dasar bagi pemerintah “mem- beli” tanah tersebut karena Pasal 15 ayat 4 Perpres 48/2008 menyebutkan bahwa dalam transaksi itu Perpres 36/2005 jo Perpres 65/2006 tentang Pengadaan Tanah untuk Kepentingan Umum tidak berlaku. Terlepas dari itu, secara sederhana relasi yang terjadi atas tanah di “luar peta” dapat diilus- trasikan seperti Bagan 4. Bagan .4.Relasi aktor berbasis tanah “luar peta” E. Relasi Manusia dan Tanah Cernea (1997, 2003) menyebutkan bahwa beragam jenis kehilangan yang dialami korban pemindahan paksa, namun artikel ini hanya akan membahas ihwal kehilangan yang terkait dengan relasi manusia dan tanah. Berkaca pada kasus Lapindo, ada tiga hal yang patut kita catat berpo- tensi untuk ikut hilang menyusul hilangnya tanah. Pertama, hilangnya kehidupan sosial/keseharian terkait dengan tanah yang hilang itu. Secara kasat mata, lumpur Lapindo tidak menghilangkan tanah, namun mengalihkan fungsi tanah, dari tanah produktif menjadi tanah mangkrak. Yang hilang, kemudian, adalah kehidupan sosial/keseharian yang pernah terjadi di atas tanah itu. Pada sebuah petang di pertengahan Juni 2012, saya diantarkan oleh seorang pemuda korban Lapindo pergi ke “titik 25.”6 Di sana kami bertemu dengan beberapa wisatawan lokal yang dipandu oleh beberapa “ojek tanggul.” Sementara para wisatawan itu mengambil gambar senja di atas tanggul, satu tukang ojek bertindak seperti seorang pemandu wisata profesional menjelaskan pada mereka tentang bencana lumpur Lapindo. Dia menunjuk beberapa titik di atas permukaan danau lumpur yang diklaimnya sebagai lokasi bekas desanya. “Sekarang semua hilang,” ujarnya. Begitu hari mulai gelap, kami turun dari tanggul. Sambil mengemudikan sepeda motornya, pengantar saya bercerita tentang kenangan masa kecilnya bermain di wilayah yang sekarang terbenam lumpur. “Dahulu ada rumah dan sekolah, tapi sekarang semua sudah tiada,” katanya. Kedua, hilangnya objek membuka kemung- kinan bagi hilangnya pengetahuan tentang objek tersebut (Kirsch 2001a, hlm. 173–174). Karena objek yang hilang adalah tanah tempat kehidupan sosial/ keseharian terjadi, yang hilang bukan sekadar pengetahuan tentang tanah melainkan juga kehidupan sosial/keseharian yang pernah terjadi terkait tanah itu. Setiap subjek berkesempatan untuk membangun pengetahuan intersubjektif tentang tanah dan kehidupan sosial/keseharian yang hilang itu. Pengetahuan itu tersimpan dalam ingatan setiap subjek yang mengalaminya dan hanya dikeluarkan pada momentum tertentu. Namun, tidak semua orang punya peluang yang sama dalam mereproduksi dan mengartikulasikan pengetahuannya itu kepada orang lain, kalaupun ada peluang belum tentu juga orang lain itu akan menerimanya begitu saja (Drake 2013). Hal ini membawa kita kembali pada kisah informan di awal tulisan ini. Dari kisah itu kita dapat menyaksikan fungsi foto sebagai medium pemicu reproduksi pengetahuan tentang sebuah rumah yang secara f isik sudah tiada, namun masih eksis dalam ingatan informan. “Perasaan memiliki” rumah dari informan tersebut justru semakin kuat karena objek itu sudah tiada lagi. Objek bisa saja hilang, namun pengetahuan tentangnya itu tidak begitu saja hilang dari ingatan subjek. Namun, 6 “Titik 25” adalah titik terdekat dengan semburan utama yang dapat diakses oleh publik. Untuk memu- dahkan pembangunan tanggul, Badan Penanggulangan Lumpur Sidoarjo (BPLS) mengode dengan sebutan “titik” menggantikan nama desa/dusun administratif yang terendam lumpur. 9Anton Novenanto: Manusia dan Tanah: 1-11 karena subjek itu telah terputus dari objek dan pengetahuan bersifat intersubjektif, konstruksi pengetahuan tentang objek itu akan berubah bersamaan dengan proses interaksi subjek dengan objek baru. Kisah informan itu menunjukkan bahwa tanah bukan objek sembarangan. Bagi f ilsuf Jerman Mar- tin Heidegger (1971), tanah adalah “hunian” (Jer. Wohnung)yang merujuk bukan sekadar tempat yang kita diami atau tinggali tapi juga tempat yang kita pelihara dan rawat seperti halnya kita memelihara dan merawat diri kita sendiri. Pada level ini kita tidak sedang berbicara tentang “kepe- milikan,” tapi lebih tentang “perasaan memiliki” tanah. Kondisi ini membawa kita pada kehilangan ketiga yang patut kita catat, yaitu hilangnya identitas kolektif dan intersubjektif yang terbentuk dari kehidupan sosial/keseharian bersama tanah itu. Tanah adalah objek yang turut membentuk identitas para aktor yang terikat dan mengikatkan diri padanya. Hilangnya tanah berarti juga hilang- nya nilai-nilai lama yang dilekatkan pada tanah itu tergantikan oleh nilai-nilai baru. Keunikan relasi manusia dan tanah pada kasus Lapindo adalah kenyataan bahwa nilai yang dile- katkan warga pada tanah jauh lebih besar justru setelah f isik tanah itu hilang dan tidak lagi dapat dipergunakan untuk hunian. Melepas “kepemi- likan,” tidak sama dengan melepas “perasaan memi- liki” tanah. Perasaan itu bukanlah sesuatu yang dapat dengan mudah tergantikan oleh penggantian berdasarkan nilai tukar atas tanah itu. “Kom- pensasi” yang didapatkan korban hanya berfungsi sebagai perantara untuk mendapatkan tanah baru menggantikan tanah lama yang terendam lumpur. Caranya adalah dengan melepas “kepemilikan” atas tanah lama dan menggantinya dengan “kepe- milikan” atas tanah baru. Sementara lumpur menghilangkan objek tanah, jual beli melepaskan “kepemilikan” atas tanah. Akan tetapi, proses kompensasi melalui mekanisme jual beli tidak pernah bisa mengganti “perasaan memiliki” tanah. E. Kesimpulan Hubungan antara manusia dan tanah adalah unik karena pada tanah manusia melekatkan nilai ekonomi, sosial, dan budaya. Tanah merupakan basis bagi dua jenis relasi sosial, yaitu relasi antara aktor manusia dan relasi antara manusia dan tanah, dan artikel ini membahas keduanya. Artikel ini mendiskusikan kedua jenis relasi itu dengan mengangkat proses kehilangan dan kompensasi dalam kasus Lapindo. Selama ini, persoalan kehilangan tanah akibat lumpur Lapindo diselesaikan melalui mekanisme “jual beli” yang menandakan pencabutan “kepemi- likan” atas tanah yang hilang itu dengan nilai tukar tertentu. Mekanisme itu dilegitimasi melalui pener- bitan Perpres 14/2007 yang membagi tanggung jawab pembelian pada Lapindo dan pemerintah dengan acuan peta 22 Maret 2007. Lapindo berke- wajiban membeli tanah di “dalam peta” dan peme- rintah menanggung pembelian tanah di “luar peta.” Relasi sosial dalam transaksi tanah “luar peta” mudah diurai, sementara relasi sosial yang terben- tuk dalam transaksi tanah “dalam peta” menjadi rumit karena sejak awal melibatkan interrelasi tiga aktor (penjual, pembeli, dan pengatur) dan dalam proses- nya terjadi perubahan peran yang cukup signif ikan. Berkaca pada kasus Lapindo ada tiga hal yang potensial hilang menyusul hilangnya tanah:1) kehidupan sosial/keseharian terkait dengan tanah yang hilang itu, 2) pengetahuan atas tanah dan kehidupan sosial/keseharian terkait dengan tanah itu, dan 3) identitas yang terbentuk dari interaksi manusia dan tanah itu. Keunikan relasi manusia dan tanah terbukti pada persoalan melepas “kepe- milikan” yang tidak pernah sama dengan melepas “perasaan memiliki” tanah. “Perasaan memiliki” bukanlah sesuatu yang dapat dengan mudah tergantikan oleh penggantian berdasarkan nilai tukar, bahkan tak jarang perasaan itu semakin kuat ketika manusia diputus paksa dari tanahnya. Hal ini dipicu oleh fakta bahwa tanah bukanlah objek sembarangan, di atas tanah manusia “menghuni” 10 Bhumi Vol. 1, No. 1, Mei 2015 yang berarti memelihara dan merawatnya seperti manusia memelihara dan merawat dirinya sendiri. Konsep “kehilangan” tanah perlu didiskusikan lebih serius untuk menemukan cara mengom- pensasi kehilangan-kehilangan yang terjadi ketika manusia diputus paksa dari tanahnya. Selama ini, kompensasi atas kehilangan tanah hanya mem- perhitungkan nilai ekonomis semata dan belum menyentuh pertimbangan nilai sosial dan budaya yang dilekatkan manusia pada tanah. 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work_sgm3uerkz5firifvskaiufw7la	----	THE GENETIC RECOMBINATION OF SCIENCE AND RELIGION Stephen M. Modell is a genomics research area specialist and Dissemination Activities Director in the Center for Public Health and Community Genomics, University of Michi- gan, 4605 SPH Tower, 1415 Washington Heights, Ann Arbor, MI 48109; e-mail mod@ umich.edu. Zygon and the Future of Religion- and-Science with Philip Hefner, “Discerning the Voice of Zygon”; Karl E. Peters, “Why Zygon? The Journal’s Original Visions”; Solomon H. Katz, “Transcending Irony”; Lea F. Schweitz, “On the Road with Religion-and-Science”; Hava Tirosh-Samuelson, “History and the Fu- ture of Science and Religion”; Stephen M. Modell, “The Genetic Recombination of Science and Religion”; John A. Teske, “A Literary Trinity”; Carol Rausch Albright, “James B. Ash- brook and His Holistic World”; James W. Haag, “Blazing a New Trail”; Joan D. Koss- Chioino, “Concerning Diversity and Practicality”; Ann Pederson, “New Directions, New Collaborations”; Gregory R. Peterson, “Stage-Two Secularity”; Willem B. Drees, “Reflect- ing upon Religion” THE GENETIC RECOMBINATION OF SCIENCE AND RELIGION by Stephen M. Modell Abstract. The estrangement between genetic scientists and theo- logians originating in the 1960s is reflected in novel combinations of human thought (subject) and genes (investigational object), parallel- ing each other through the universal process known in chaos theory as self-similarity. The clash and recombination of genes and knowl- edge captures what Philip Hefner refers to as irony, one of four voices he suggests transmit the knowledge and arguments of the religion- and-science debate. When viewed along a tangent connecting irony to leadership, journal dissemination, and the activities of the “public intellectual” and the public at large, the sequence of voices is shown to resemble the passage of genetic information from DNA to mRNA, tRNA, and protein, and from cell nucleus to surrounding environ- ment. In this light, Hefner’s inquiry into the voices of Zygon is bound up with the very subject matter Zygon covers. Keywords: cell; chaos; DNA; genetics; irony; journal; leadership; meiosis; mitosis; policy making; protein; public; recombination; reli- gion; RNA; science; self-similarity; systems theory [Zygon, vol. 45, no. 2 (June 2010)] © 2010 by the Joint Publication Board of Zygon. ISSN 0591-2385 www.zygonjournal.org DISJUNCTION AND RECOMBINATION IN SCIENCE AND RELIGION Unitarian minister Ralph Waldo Emerson, who inspired the nineteenth- century American transcendentalist movement, observed, “The foregoing generations beheld God and nature face to face; we, through their eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original relation to the universe?” (Sacks 2008, 1). That was a simpler time when Charles Darwin was being newly recognized and Gregor Mendel had just begun his pea-crossing experi- ments. Think of all the discoveries that have occurred in the last fifty years— DNA, quarks, neural imaging (and the search for a “God gene” and the seat of religious experience in the brain)—and it is clear that a recombina- tion of science and religion was needed. Recombination occurs at the cel- lular level, but I argue that because of the universe’s tendency to repeat patterns on different scales, a phenomenon known by chaos theorists as “self-similarity,” it also occurs at the human level (Gleick 1988, 116). Re- combination is readily seen in the activity of Zygon scholars merging reli- gion and science, but it is also part of the human components about which Philip Hefner has written (2010). For my discipline, genetics policy, the merging of science and religion has followed a bimodal distribution. During the first era, in the late 1960s and early ’70s, critical genetics-policy decisions had to be made for condi- tions such as Down syndrome, Tay-Sachs disease, and procedures touch- ing the beginning of human life. Ethics centers were populated by theologians who could earnestly deliberate on these questions. However, the marriage of medicine and religion began to dissolve under the increas- ing weight of secularization. Today the same ethics centers scarcely pay heed to religious perspectives, having succeeded in institutionalizing their work in the modern secular direction just as Hefner has described. The Zygon Center for Religion and Science, with its intellectual autonomy and ties to clergy and scholars at major universities, has been key in main- taining the religious dialogue as it advances into the genomic era of clones, chimeras, and stem cells. SCIENCE AND SOCIETY IN THE GENOME ERA Zygon reporting of genetic developments transpired through the period of the Human Genome Project, the second historic hump. Shortly before heading to the National Institutes of Health to lead the United States ge- nome mapping initiative, Francis Collins created a Genome Ethics Com- mittee at the University of Michigan. The Committee commissioned me to a prepare a report on “Science and Society” (Modell 1992). The report mentioned the existence of a Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago that had established a Center to study faith and science concurrently. I noted, as has Hefner, an emerging genome-era model in the journal Zygon: “More recently scientifically inclined religious thinkers like Arthur Peacocke, Stephen M. Modell 463 464 Zygon Karl Peters, Philip Hefner, and Jeffrey Wicken have absorbed notions of mo- lecular level indeterminism and novelty of complex self-organizing sys- tems into their metaphors for the Divine” (Modell 1992, 7; see Hefner 1989, 142). The material Zygon was publishing two decades ago is quite relevant today. Contingency is built into our evolution and, by ontological inheritance, the molecular world health practitioners frequently face when attempting to predict the operation of cancer genes and environmentally modulated disease conditions. I also noted Ian Barbour’s statement that science and religion can un- dergo paradigm shifts in times of conceptual transformation (Barbour 1990, 51–58). These shifts can be sociologic in the sense that new images, for example of the zygote (inspiring Zygon’s title) or the double helix, are pre- sented to society—images that “bust” the estrangement between science and religion (Nelkin and Lindee 2004; Eaves 1989, 194–97). Paradigm shifts can also involve changes in consciousness. In physics one can detect changes happening with the advent of string theory and inflationary views of the universe that upset the classical “one universe” notion. The field of biology is undergoing a paradigm shift. The United States Institute of Medicine has publicized a multilevel, nonreductionistic model with biologic factors at the core, social and community networks in the middle, and the interacting environment in the outermost enclosing shell (IOM 2003, 52). Most recently it has provided a systems model for trans- disciplinary research (Payne, Royal, and Kardia 2007; IOM 2006, 19). Neoplatonic philosophers were well aware of this union, to Plotinus repre- sented by the One, Nous, or the Intelligible, Soul, and bodies (Martin 1982). The four voices Hefner has cited—public intellectual, academic discipline, religious communities, and the element of irony (Hefner 2010)— portray the linking of biologic and human levels. His essay is part of and not independent of the cosmologic system. Let us turn his categories on their side, moving tangentially so as to connect them, showing how he has recapitulated the cellular system in his human-level description of the reli- gion-and-science face-off. IRONY AT THE MOLECULAR AND SOCIAL LEVELS The irony Phil expresses, incommensurate clashing realities, may also be viewed as complementary realities within a dualistic pair. During cellular meiosis, chromatids from both original parents seek each other out and bind, exchanging chinks of genetic material. This recombination of mate- rial leads to fresh assortments of genetic alleles or variants in the reproduc- tive gametes meiosis generates. Mitosis, regular cell division, does not involve such recombination. Analogously, a recombination of contrasting fields nurtured by academic insights, the irony to which Phil refers, is required to move social consciousness ahead. Otherwise, human understanding di- vides and perpetuates but does not evolve. Stephen M. Modell 465 LEADERSHIP IN BLAZING NEW TERRITORY The gametes created by meiosis fuse and fertilize, yielding a fresh zygote and new embryonic cells. The fresh DNA in the center of the nucleus is like new knowledge ready to be transmitted by the leaders in a given field. We can all see Platonic shadows of Phil’s ingenuity in our own fields, though rarely does the commitment to bind science with the higher spheres of religion and to communicate the findings reach such a pitch. Francis Col- lins also offers an example of leadership juxtaposing science and religion. Starting as an agnostic, Collins gradually began to perceive the operation of the Divine in the complexity of the molecular world, and the genetic code as “God’s instruction book.” He wrote about his perspectives in The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief (2007), which, like Hefner’s books on the intersection of science and faith in relation to the co-creative human (Hefner 2003; 2000), has become quite popular. Col- lins also represents Hefner’s sense of irony in his lifestyle. He has been known to play a guitar in crowds, sing poetry about genetics, and zip through town on a motorcycle. Is this lifestyle a form of release, or a way to per- sonify and make palatable to the public the ironies Collins (and Hefner) have encountered? The thinker in his role as academician is seldom without intellectual competition. For Collins it was arguably Dr. James V. Neel of the Univer- sity of Michigan, who was also humanitarian in his global scientific mis- sionary work, but equally outspoken in arguing against the molecular genetic approach, insisting population-based science was the way to spread health. The tacit conflict between Collins and Neel reflects the dance between Hefner and his detractors. There are people of faith who say that only God the creator should tinker with the human body. Leave well enough alone. Hefner has many times defended his conviction that a religiously tem- pered science holds the keys to human restoration and the flourishing of human capacity. Even among people of faith, like two struggling scientists, disagreement exists on something as fundamental as the basis of moral- ity—is it based on a form of natural law (à la Richard Dawkins) or prin- ciple-based? These within- and between-field clashes are the human version of mitotic and meiotic processes that result in shifts in consciousness and understanding. Ironies crop up; leadership such as Hefner’s brings the two sides together in complementary fashion and synthesizes the information. THE NECESSITY OF A JOURNAL The DNA in the cell’s center is basically useless without a means of trans- mission—messenger RNA, or mRNA. Likewise, sustained enterprise must manifest its work in a lasting, material fashion. The most well-intentioned learned societies can fail to endure for lack of popularization. Zygon jour- nal, an organ of academe, has brought the kinds of discussions Hefner has 466 Zygon engendered to the attention of academicians, public intellectuals, and reli- gious communities, immortalizing threads of discussion much as scientists immortalize a cell line. Most professional journals remain locked to one disciplinary level cum one set of technical jargon. That jargon can be research-oriented, ethical, or philosophical, but typically it remains specialized and out of reach. Zy- gon has been able to transcend the levels boundary in its to appeal to varied audiences, helping to assure that the information it carries will not become “lysed” or dissipated before it is utilized. THE PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL AS A SUSTAINER OF ENTERPRISE Hefner defines the public intellectual as a person who “bring[s] knowledge and ideas to bear in the larger public sphere” (Hefner 2010, 421). This role resembles the function of the ribosome and transfer RNA, or tRNA, which translate information from the nucleus and launch its products into the cell body or cytoplasm. Really the category of public intellectual should be broken into two levels, national and local, just as the proteins produced by the genetic translation process can end up within the cell or be released into the vast expanse outside the cell. Such writers as Ted Peters, Ronald Cole-Turner, Roger Willer, and J. Robert Nelson have raised discussion of biology and genetic developments in a religious light to the public level on a widespread scale, both in writing and speech. Geneticists Francis Collins (2007) and Georgia Dunston of Howard University (2000) have accom- plished the same from their professional quarter as scientists wishing to show how shared genetic variation and a common genetic code link all humanity. A second tier of public intellectual operates locally to translate the im- plications of science (religious, ethical, philosophical) for the public. Such individuals have acquired professional expertise, engage in topical discus- sion, and bring the discussion to a general audience. This kind of public intellectual populates the Genetic Frontiers Professional Dialogue Group in Detroit, which has been holding quarterly meetings for eight years run- ning on topics spanning new genetic technologies and their religious and social implications. When we consider the membership of the group— physicians, clergy, health care administrators, and researchers—we can begin to appreciate how the public dialogue local public intellectuals may spark can yield positive benefits when it comes time to vote on stem-cell policy or for a family to consider how it will act toward purchasing genetically engineered foods. THE PUBLIC AT LARGE AS A GROUNDING FORCE To be distinguished from the notion of public intellectual is the straight- forward concept of the public at large. Hefner has delivered talks in South- Stephen M. Modell 467 east Michigan, “The Created Co-Creator Meets Cyborg” and “Created in the Image of God—Embodying the Purposes of God,” as part of the Me- tanexus Institute–funded Genetic Frontiers: Challenges for Humanity and our Religious Traditions program, which had as its two parts the profes- sional arm just discussed and three public conferences, total attendance 353 persons (Modell 2007). These conferences really expanded the notion of religious community. Present were expert speakers from the Christian, Jewish, and Muslim faiths; Interfaith Round Table members of the spon- soring organization, the then National Conference for Community and Justice; clergy; and numerous public attendees of all faiths. The day-long events—talks and breakout discussion groups—primed attendees to take the genetic issues discussed with them beyond the conference halls. The report of a related dialogue project in Michigan and Alabama, the National Human Genome Research Institute–funded Communities of Color and Genetics Policy Project, contained two sections of community recom- mendations on the ticklish matter of “Playing God” with respect to clon- ing and reproductive genetic technologies (CCGPP 2002, 2.7–8, 3.27–28), and was given to congressional members. Thus, the terminus of the specu- lative process initiated by academicians can be concrete recommendations backed by the laity. The public serves as the final receptor, providing the protein subunits of the action and policy scaffolding (Garland 1999, 245). For both public dialogues, academicians provided expertise with grant seek- ing, assembled hand-out information, and secured facilities for the discus- sions, serving as the general environment or supportive matrix in the IOM’s systems model. THE FUTURE VISION In this systems interpretation of Hefner’s essay on the voices of Zygon, the cell has served as a model of information transmission that also takes place at the human level, especially in the dynamic, clashing religion-and-sci- ence area. Multilevel models can be expected to increasingly enfold to- gether the wisdom of religion, the physical sciences, cosmology, and biology in useful ways within the pages of journals such as Zygon. Inclusion of multiple languages, humanistic and hard-core empirical, is essential to pre- serving and widening the religion-science conversation. With an eye on the ethical and policy implications of their work, Zygon scholars will be able to see their writing attain practical dimensions as well. CONCLUSION AND REGENERATION In Cosmos and History, Mircea Eliade reviews cultural process in general and concludes that it repeats itself as part of the cosmogonic act (Eliade 1959, 81). For a while in the 1960s, at the birth of Zygon, religion and science coexisted in theory and practice. Then shifts in society caused a rift 468 Zygon and an existential fall. As Eliade suggests, the distancing process between spirit and materiality is cyclical. A convergent future, illuminated by Hefner, exists for those who choose to explore the link between religion and sci- ence, but the future’s expanse remains undefined until crossed. NOTE A version of this article was presented at the symposium “Where Are We Going? Zygon and the Future of Religion-and-Science,” 8–9 May 2009, in Chicago. REFERENCES Barbour, Ian G. 1990. Religion in an Age of Science. London: SCM Press. Collins, Francis S. 2007. The Language of God: A Scientist Presents Evidence for Belief. New York: The Free Press. Communities of Color and Genetics Policy Project (CCGPP). 2002. Policy Reports and Rec- ommendations, October, 2001. Ann Arbor, Mich.: CCGPP. www.sph.umich.edu/genpolicy /current/reports/index.html. Dunston, Georgia M. 2000. “The Implications of Human Genome Research for Minority Health Issues.” www.ornl.gov/sci/techresources/Human_Genome/publicat/zetaphibeta/dunston.shtml. Eaves, Lindon. 1989. “Spirit, Method, and Content in Science and Religion: The Theologi- cal Perspective of a Geneticist.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 24:185–215. Eliade, Mircea. 1959. Cosmos and History: The Myth of the Eternal Return. New York: Harper and Row; The Bollingen Library. Garland, Michael J. 1999. “Experts and the Public: A Needed Partnership for Genetic Policy.” Public Understanding of Science 8:241–54. Gleick, James. 1988. Chaos: Making a New Science. New York: Penguin. Hefner, Philip. 1989. “The Role of Science in Pannenberg’s Theological Thinking.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 24:135–51. ———. 2000. The Human Factor: Evolution, Culture, and Religion. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress. ———. 2003. Technology and Human Becoming. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress. ———. 2010. “Discerning the Voice of Zygon: Identity and Issues.” Zygon: Journal of Reli- gion and Science 45:419–29. Institute of Medicine (IOM). 2003. The Future of the Public’s Health in the 21st Century. Wash- ington, D.C.: National Academies Press. ———. 2006. Genes, Behavior, and the Social Environment. Washington, D.C.: National Acad- emies Press. Martin, Richard M. 1982. “On Logical Structure and the Plotinic Cosmos.” In The Structure of Being: A Neoplatonic Approach, ed. R. Baine Harris, 11–23. Albany: State Univ. of New York Press. Modell, Stephen. 1992. Science and Society: Selected Issues. Ann Arbor: Univ. of Michigan Genome Ethics Committee. ———. 2007. “Genetic and Reproductive Technologies in the Light of Religious Dialogue.” Zygon: Journal of Religion and Science 42:163–82. Nelkin, Dorothy, and M. Susan Lindee. 2004. The DNA Mystique: The Gene as a Cultural Icon. Ann Arbor: Univ. of Michigan Press. Payne, Perry W. Jr., Charmaine Royal, and Sharon L. R. Kardia. 2007. “Genetic and Social Environment Interactions and Their Impact on Health Policy.” Journal of the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons 15 suppl (September): S95–S98. Sacks, Kenneth S. 2008. Emerson: Political Writings. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press. 
work_sifjaktzljcndnywqsjjq53rwq	----	AMS volume 14 issue 2 Cover and Front matter Volume 14 Number 2 August 1980 ISSN 0021-8758 Journal of American Studies Cambridge University Press for the British Association for American Studies Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core E D I T O R I A L BOARD Daniel Aaron HARVARD UNIVERSITY Malcolm Bradbury UNIVERSITY OF EAST ANGLIA W. R. Brock UNIVERSITY OF GLASGOW R. A. Burchell UNIVERSITY OF MANCHESTER Marcus Cunliffe UNIVERSITY OF SUSSEX Stephen Fender UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON Mark Leaf UNIVERSITY OF DURHAM Michael Millgate UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO E. S. Morgan YALE UNIVERSITY H. G. Nicholas NEW COLLEGE, OXFORD R. H. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core Journal of American Studies Volume 14 Number 2 August 1980 EDITOR HOWARD TEMPERLEY ASSOCIATE EDITOR ARNOLD GOLDMAN Cambridge University Press CAMBRIDGE LONDON NEW YORK NEW ROCHELLE MELBOURNE SYDNEY Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Journal of American Studies publishes work by scholars of various nationalities on American literature, history, institutions, politics, economics, geography and related subjects. Articles which cross the conventional borders between academic disciplines are particularly welcome, as are comparative studies of American and other cultures. It also publishes review essays, book reviews and, biennially, a list of theses on American topics in progress and completed at British universities. Contributors need not be members of the British Association for American Studies. Decisions on articles submitted are normally made within three months and those accepted published within a year. Details about the submission of manuscripts are given on the inside of the back cover. N O T E : This number contains (pp. 343—59) the biennial listing of Doctoral Theses on American Topics in Progress and completed at British Universities. Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core Contents Jonathan Edwards: The First Two Hundred Years DANIEL B. SHEA The Laws of War in the 1812 Conflict ROBIN F. A. FABEL The Neo-Hegelian Tradition in America DAVID WATSON Call Me Nigger!: Race and Speech in Faulkner's Light in August RICHARD GODDEN Review Essay The US Army and Global Politics, 191710 1927 C. J . BARTLETT 181 199 219 2 3 5 249 Reviews Alberts, R. C , Benjamin West: A Biography 280 Austin, J. C , American Humor in France: Two Centuries of French Criticism of the Comic Spirit in American Literature 313 Avery, L. G., (ed.), Dramatist in America: Letters of Maxwell Anderson, 1912-19/8 260 Avrich, P., An American Anarchist. The Life of Voltairine de Cleyre 253 Axelrod, S. G., Robert Lowell: Life and Art 278 Banta, Martha, Failure and Success in America: a Literary Debate 296 Belz, H., Emancipation and Equal Rights: Politics and Constitutionalism in the Civil War Era 283 Boyer, P., Urban Masses and Moral Order in America, 1820—11)20 288 Brooker, P., A Student's Guide to the Selected Poems of E^ra Pound 316 Butterick, G. F., A Guide to The Maximus Poems of Charles Olson 309 Carroll, P. N., andNoble, D. W., The Free and the Unfree: A New History of the United States 266 Carter, E., The American Idea: The Literary Response to American Optimism 314 Christensen, P., Charles Olson: Call Him Ishmael 309 Colley, I., Dos Passos and the Fiction of Despair 329 Cooke, J. E., Tench Coxe and the Early Republic 282 Cripps, T., Black Film as Genre 306 Crotty, W. J., Decision for the Democrats: Reforming the Party Structure 271 Cummings, A. L., The Framed Houses of Massachusetts Bay, 162J-172J 336 Dance, D . C , Shuckin' and Jivin': Folk- lore from Contemporary Black Americans 302 Divine, R. A., Blowing on the Wind: The Nuclear Test Ban Debate 19/4-60 290 Donald, M., The American Novel in the Twentieth Century 291 Donaldson, S. and Massa, Ann, American Literature: Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries 291 Doob, L. W., (ed.), "Ezra Pound Speak- ing": Radio Speeches of World War II 332 Dougherty, J. J., The Politics of Wartime Aid: American Economic Assistance to France and French Northwest Africa, 1940-1946 277 Douglas, G. H., H. L. Mencken, Critic of American Life 295 DuBois, Ellen, C , Feminism and Suffrage: The Emergence of an Independant Women's Movement in America, 1848-1869 274 East, R. A., John Adams 311 Eberwein, Jane D . (ed.), Early American Poetry: Selections from Bradstreet, Taylor, Dwight, Freneau, and Bryant 254 Edelberg, C. D., Robert Creeley's Poetry: A Critical Introduction 325 Eigner, E. M., The Metaphysical Novel in England and America: Dickens, Bulwer, Melville and Hawthorne 330 Emerson, E. (ed.), American Literature 1/64-1789: The Revolutionary Years 254 Emerson, R. W., The Journals and Mis- cellaneous Notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Volume XIV, 18/4-1861 303 Fanning, C , Finley Peter Dunne and Mr. Dooley: The Chicago Years 267 Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core Reviews—continued Fehrenbacher, D . E., The Dred Scott Case: Its Significance in American Law and Politics 299 Ferguson, E . J., (ed.), The Papers of Robert Morris, Volume ) 316 Fetterley, Judith, The Resisting Reader: a Feminist Approach to American Fiction 286 Funigiello, Philip J., The Challenge to Urban Liberalism: Federal-City Relations during World War II 285 Gervais, David, Flaubert and Henry James: A Study in Contrasts 327 Girgus, S. B., The Law of the Heart: Individualism and the Modern Self in American Literature 514 Graham, D., The Fiction of Frank Norris: The Aesthetic Context 337 Hallberg, Robert von, Charles Olson: The Scholar's Art 309 Havemann, J., Congress and the Budget 2.-16 Hawthorne, Nathaniel, Hawthorne's Lost Notebook, iS^j-1841 334 Hevener, J. W., Which Side Are You On? The Harlan County Coal Miners, }9}}9 273 Higashi, S., Virgins, Vamps and Flappers: The American Silent Movie Heroine 306 Hyde, L. (ed.), Rat and the Devil: Journal and Letters ofF. O. Mat ties sen and Russell Cheney 260 Janowitz, M., The Last Half-Century: Societal Change and Politics in America 307 Kettner, J. H., The Development of American Citizenship, 1608-1870 321 Killorin, J. (ed.), Selected Letters of Conrad Aiken 260 Larson, C. R., American Indian Fiction 338 Link, A. S. et al. (eds.), The Papers of Woodrow Wilson, Volumes 27 to }i 319 Liska, G., Career of Umpire: America and Imperial Expansion over Land and Sea 264 Macmillan, D . J., The Stoic Strain in American Literature: Essays in Honour of Mars ton LaFranee 314 McCullough, J. B., Hamlin Garland 283 McCutchan, J. D., Mier Expedition Diary: a Texan Prisoner's Account. 294 Merrill, R., Norman Mailer 275 Mertz, P. E., New Deal Policy and Southern Rural Poverty 281 Moody, A. D., Thomas Stearns Eliot: Poet 258 Morgan, H . W., New Muses: Art in American Culture 186J-1920 287 Mumford, L., My Works and Days: A Personal Chronicle 342 Myerson, J. (ed.), Studies in the American Renaissance 318 Norris, J. D., R. G. Dm eS>" Co., 1841- 1900: The Development of Credit Reporting in the Nineteenth Century 300 Peckham, H. H., (ed.), Sources of American Independence 323 Philpott, T. L., The Slum and the Ghetto: Neighborhood Deterioration and Middle Class Reform, Chicago, j88o-ipjo 340 Pizer, D . (ed.), Essays in American Litera- ture in Memory of Richard P. Adams 293 Plater, W. M., The Grim Phoenix: Reconstructing Thomas Pynchon 333 Porter, D., Emerson and Literary Change 303 Purdy, S. B., The Hole in the Fabric: Science, Contemporary Literature, and Henry James 256 Raboteau, A. J., Slave Religion 269 Rohrbough, M. J., The Trans-Appa- lachian Frontier: People, Societies and Institutions, i/7j-i8jo 288 Roof, W. C , Community and Commitment: Religious Plausibility in a Liberal Protestant Church 289 Savitt, T. L., Medicine and Slavery 269 Scheick, W. J., The Slender Human Word: Emerson's Artistry in Prose 303 Schneider, D . J., The Crystal Cage: Adventures of the Imagination in the Fiction of Henry James 256 Schraepen, E. (ed.), Saul Bellow and His Work 339 Schweninger, L., James T. Rapier and Reconstruction 283 Scott, Q., and Miller, H. S., Eads Bridge 323 Siegel, M. R., Pynchon, Creative Paranoia in 'Gravity's Rainbow' 333 Simon, Linda, The Biography of Alice B. Toklas zyz Springer, Marlefle (ed.), What Manner of Woman: Essays on English and American Life and Literature 301 Springer, Mary Doyle, A Rhetoric of Literary Character: Some Women of Henry James 326 Steiner, Wendy, Exact Resemblance to Exact Resemblance: The Literary Portraiture of Gertrude Stein 272 Stoehr, T., Hawthorne's Mad Scientists: Pseudoscience and Social Science in Nineteenth Century Life and Letters 330 Taylor, R. J. et al. (eds.), The Adams Papers: The Papers of John Adams, Volumes } and 4 311 Vitzthum, R. C , Land and Sea: The Lyric Poetry of Philip Freneau 254 Wagenknecht, E., Eve and Henry James: Portraits of Women and Girls in His Fiction 256 Wagner, Linda W., Dos Passos: Artist as American 329 Walkowitz, D . J., Worker City, Company Town: Iron and Cotton Worker Protest in Troy andCohoes, New York, i8fj-i884 340 West, Rachel, The Department of State on the Eve of the First World War 324 White, T. H., In Search of History: A Personal Adventure 262 Wiecek, W. M., The Sources of Antislavery Constitutionalism in America, IJ6O~ 1848 263 Williams, W. H . A., H. L. Mencken 295 Willcox, W. B. (ed.), The Papers of Benjamin Franklin, Volume 21 316 Yoder, R. A., Emerson and the Orphic Poet in America 303 Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:13, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800001778 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_siw6fbsaujas5hlrat6exly5py	----	CONFORMITY AND HERD MENTALITY: A STUDY OF POEM “THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN” By Nihal Umar NATIONAL UNIVERSITY OF MODERN LANGUAGES ISLAMABAD July 2020 iii Conformity and Herd Mentality: A Study of Poem “The Unknown Citizen” By Nihal Umar A RESEARCH ARTICLE SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF Bachelor of Studies In ENGLISH LITERATURE AND LINGUISTICS To DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH UGS NATIONAL UNIVERSITY OF MODERN LANGUAGES, ISLAMABAD  Nihal Umar 2020 iv Name of Student Degree Name in Full Name of Discipline Name of Research Supervisor Signature of Research Supervisor Name of Head of English Department (UGS) Signature of Head of English Department (GS) Name of the Research Chairperson Signature of the Research Chairperson RESEARCH PROPOSAL AND DEFENSE APPROVAL FORM The undersigned certify that they have read the following research proposal, examined the defense, are satisfied with the overall exam performance, and recommend the topic for acceptance: Proposed Research Topic: CONFORMITY AND HERD MENTALITY: A STUDY OF POEM “THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN” Submitted By: NIHAL UMAR Registration #: ML-PSC-FL16/Eng BS 285 BACHELOR OF STUDIES IN ENGLISH LITERATURE AND LINGUISTICS ENGLISH LINGUISTICS AND LITERATURE MR. MUHAMMAD ARIF ______________________________ MR. ISLAM BADSHAH ______________________________ MR. TARIQ MAHMOOD ______________________________ _______________________ Date NATIONAL UNIVERSITY OF MODERN LANGUAGES v CANDIDATE DECLARATION FORM I NIHAL UMAR Son of HAZRAT UMAR KHATTAK Registration # ML-PSC-FL16/Eng BS-285 Discipline _English Literature and Linguistics Candidate of BS (HONS) ENGLISH at the National University of Modern Languages do hereby declare that the research article CONFORMITY AND HERD MENTALITY: A STUDY OF POEM “THE UNKNOWN CITIZEN” submitted by me in partial fulfillment of BACHELOR OF STUDIES degree, is my original work, and has not been submitted or published earlier. I also solemnly declare that it shall not, in future, be submitted by me for obtaining any other degree from this or any other university or institution. I also understand that if evidence of plagiarism is found in my thesis/dissertation at any stage, even after the award of a degree, the work may be cancelled, and the degree revoked. ______________________________ ___________________________ Signature of Candidate Date of submission of article for evaluation _____Nihal Umar____ Name of Candidate vi Abstract The researcher has attempted to study the poem “The Unknown Citizen” written in 1940 by a renowned modern poet W.H Auden (1907-1973), with the lens of Conformity and Herd Mentality. The researcher discusses the elements of Conformity and Herd Mentality in the poem “The Unknown Citizen”, and its cause and effects on society. No previous investigations have been carried out in this particular subject under study. The researcher has opened up the topic to provide clues to his readers that conformity causes failure of a nation, by proving it a barrier in the path of mental development, innovation and creativity, as well as to propagate the message of belief in self-instincts and self-reliance. To unveil the factors that leads to the conformity of an individual. There is constant development of human consciousness, but elements of conformity suppress this process of development. The research will probe aspects of conformity and herd mentality, common in modern men, and will try to establish possible links between conformity, herd morality and herd mentality. Keywords: The Unknown Citizen, Conformity, Herd Mentality, Herd Morality, Modern Man, self-reliance. vii TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter Page RESEARCH ARTICLE AND DEFENCE APPROVAL FORM……...ii CANDIDATE DECLARATION FORM………………………………..iii ABSTRACT……………………………………………………………….iv TABLE OF CONTENTS…………………………………………………v DEDICATION……………………………………………………………vii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS……………………………………………...viii 1 INTRODUCTION……………………………………………………..1 1.1 Thesis statement………..……………………………..............3 1.2 Research Objectives…………………………………………...3 1.3 Research Questions…………………………………………...3 1.4 Rational……………………………………………………….4 1.5 Significance…………………………………………………...4 1.6 Delimitation…………………………………………………...4 2 LITERATURE REVIEW……………………………………………..5 3 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY……………………………………..7 3.1 Research Methods…………………………………………….7 3.2 Textual Analysis………………………………………………7 3.3 Theoretical Framework………………………………………. 7 4 DISCUSSION…………………………………………………………..8 5 CONCLUSION………………………………………………………...11 6 SUGGESTIONS………………………………………………………..11 7 BIBLIOGRAPHY……………………………………………………...12 viii DEDICATION I dedicate this Thesis to Allah Almighty, the Creator and Sustainer of Universe, Who gave me the strength to accomplish this task. I also dedicate this work to my dear deceased Parents, who guided me in the valley of darkness, with the beacon of hope and encouragement to reach my destination. They had always supported me and boosted up my morale. It would not have been possible without their prayers and immense sacrifices. I also dedicate this research to my siblings and especially my elder brother, Jamal Umar, who has always been the source of inspiration and motivation for me, and assisted me throughout my educational career. To all friends and well-wishers, who helped me and remembered me in their prayers. ix ACKNOWLEDGMENTS I would like to acknowledge the indebtedness and render my warmest thanks to my Research Supervisor, Mr. Muhammad Arif, who was always available to me during this Research Work. It would not have been possible without his guidance and support. I learned a lot under his supervision. I would also like to praise the invaluable suggestions of Miss Mehnaz, whose advices helped me to a lot. I am also thankful to all faculty members for the bestowal of their knowledge and wisdom upon me. At last I am thankful to this prestigious institution, which gave me the opportunity to enhance my capabilities. 1 CHAPTER 1 INTRODUCTION Literature is a form of human expression. Literature is mirror to life and portrays challenges, difficulties and complications which humans face in day to day life. Literature is an expression of human feelings and aspirations, as human feelings and aspirations are generally universal in nature, so literary works remain relevant even after centuries. Psychology is the study of human mind and behavior. Literature and Psychology go hand in hand, while studying any literary work Psychology plays a vital role to develop proper understanding. Psychology helps in evaluating the mind of a writer, as well as of characters discussed by the writer. Conformity is a terminology in psychology which refers to the act of compliance with already established beliefs and following of others. It is a mental and psychological dependency of a person upon an existing set of beliefs and norms of part icular group or society. Conformity is defined as yielding to a group’s pressure. A conformist never takes a risk and chooses to follow a trodden path. A conformist feels a sense of belongingness in conforming to society, and does not want to lose this sense. Conformity in simple words is social influence, and a conformist adopts certain behaviors to ‘‘fit in’’ and to ‘‘go along’’ with the herd. Herd behavior is normal in an animal, to secure its life, each animal rushes towards center of the herd. A conformist conforms, because violation of set rules leads to a social isolation of a nonconformist, thus to ensure the security of himself, the idea of nonconformity dies in unconscious part of a person’s mind, because unwillingness to conform carries the risk of social rejection. A conformist locks the doors of creativity and hesitates to follow a new path based on his own reasoning. The measurement of good and bad is rusted in his mind, because his security and social acceptance dominate over his morality. Morality is then defined by shared social behavior, which has been well-defined by Friedrich Nietzsche as ‘’herd morality’’, as a result a conformist starts following crowd, whether that crowd is the army of Satan or the representatives of God. The terminology of conformity is well discussed by Gustave Le Bon (1841-1931), he divides the crowd behavior in three stages: submergence, contagion, and suggestion. Thus, Gustave Le Bon’s “Crowd Psychology” echoes with conformity of individual. Similarly, Friedrich Nietzsche’s concept of “Herd Morality” is similar to the aspects of conformity presented in “Unknown Citizen” by W.H Auden. Terminology of conformity works as bridge between the poem “Unknown Citizen” and “Herd Mentality” by Gustave Le Bon and “Herd Morality” by Friedrich Nietzsche. “The Unknown Citizen” is a poem written in 1940 by a renowned modern poet Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973), in this poem he portrays a man who blindly conforms to social norms and laws of the state, in the eye of state institutions, he is acknowledged but he has lost his actual identity due to blind acceptance of rules. He has been given a clean chit by society and government, but this clean chit is based on statistical analysis. In his pursuit to become a good citizen, he becomes a conformist and is being portrayed as ‘’Unknown’’, as he has lost his will power and is no more a creative individual but a man going with the flow, who never questions status quo. The unknown citizen has seized to take flights of creativity 2 and innovation and is no more an individualized self. He is meek and passive, and does everything that others expect from him, He can never assert his individuality and is easily manipulated by pressure group. He is conformist because he does not want to lose the sense of belongingness. At the end of the poem W.H Auden levels a question about the freedom and happiness of that unknown citizen, but these questions are absurd because statistical judgment cannot measure the happiness and freedom of individual, as both these terms are part of emotional life of an individual. Furthermore, W.H Auden was born in York on 21 February, 1907 in middle- class family. His father was doctor and a rational individual, while his mother was nurse by profession and a devout Anglo Catholic. We find in him the combination of both, a rational and humanitarian or sentimental at the same time. His approach is like a clinical psychologist. He diagnosis ills of his society and prescribe a remedy like a social reformer or as a humanist. He is a realist in depiction and portrayal of human day to day life. We find his characters in a bleak atmosphere of modern, industrialized and non-sentimental world. For him, poetry is a kind of therapy and has the power to vanish ills from human society. He is considered as a successor of T.S Eliot, because both, along with W.B Yeats, depicted the social evils and dealt with moral and psychological problems of public concern. He, being a flag bearer of modern era has captured true picture of modern man. Modern man’s sense of emptiness, skepticism, economic disparity, post war uncertainty and anxiety has been discussed by many modern intellectuals, but no one has represented them more perfectly than W.H Auden. He represented the dreadful picture of modern world, where men have been robbed of their freedom by mechanical, exploitative and non-sentimental society. Modern man has been disillusioned and finds himself nowhere. Modern man has been uprooted and his belief system has been shaken, by some powerful and unforgettable events. W.H Auden is the master of satire and irony; it is through ironic tone that he criticizes and points out some serious issues in the modern society. In this poem W.H Auden wants to draw our attention to a modern man, who has been struck in the chains of conformity and is going with the flow, without questioning anything imposed on him. Throughout the poem, we have been told that he is good man and follows order, and no complaint has been filed against him. In modern terms, he is Saint, because he does not harm anyone and leads the life of anonymity. He worked in a factory and was never suspended. His employers were satisfied, because he acknowledged their policies and his overall attitude was satisfactory towards his fellow workers. When there was war he went to war, when there was peace he was for peace. He was also member of the union, and he never broke the rules. He had a company and he drank occasionally. His health card’s data shows that he became ill only once, and left hospital as soon as he got well, thus he never became burden on the state. His feedback to the advertisements was normal, and had every necessities that a modern man had to have. He was married and had five children. He works for the well-being of greater community and all state institutions are happy with his conduct. He pays all his bills and takes part in every installment plan that benefits the state. Whole community is satisfied with his behavior, because he never opposes anyone. All state’s institutions have given him a clean chit. In short, he compromised everything, to be deemed as good citizen. However, emotionally he is dead, everyone is satisfied with his behavior, but no one asks about his feelings and emotions. At the end of the poem, poet levels a question about his freedom and happiness, and asserts that these questions are absurd, 3 because statistical analysis can never measure happiness and freedom of an individual. He has been made to conform to the state and in no way, he can assert his individuality. His creative spirit has been choked by the state, which poses itself like a ‘‘Big Brother’’. Attitude of the state is very necessary to understand in this poem, because state’s policies are such that appreciates individuals, who never say No, and follows the orders without questioning. The irony is that the same individual who has been praised throughout the poem has been confined to a number and title. Such states cannot be called welfare state, rather it is Totalitarian Socialist state, which appreciates conformity, and pulverizes the marvels of creativity to the ground. A state, which is bureaucratic and technocratic, which concentrates on controlling rather than exploring. In such states, one who criticizes status quo is deemed as anti-national and the contradictor also faces social boycott. Apart from the role of state, society also does not encourage an individual who chooses separate path for himself, by using his\her rationality. Society is like herd, and the one who tries to leave the herd faces severe consequences. Thus, the idea of nonconformity dies in unconscious part of a person’s mind, because unwillingness to conform carries the risk of social rejection. In this way, an individual is compelled to follow the mob, and makes his inner voice silent. Only few individuals are brave enough to walk on the path of nonconformity, by listening to their inner voices and realize the gleam of light that sparks from within. Great people had always swum against the tide and not along the stream. Great people go against the dominant opinions, by bringing new ideas to the table, because they think differently. These few individuals, among millions, are free spirits, and history remembers them in great words, because they are the once who bring change to the masses. As said by Emerson in his essay self-reliance that ‘‘He who would be a man must therefore be a nonconformist’’. W.H Auden has depicted a psyche and behavior of a modern man ensnared in the chains of conformity. A person who never contradicts with predetermined rules and regulation of the hierarchy. He is under the observation of the authorities, his daily life actions are keenly observed by those groups, who have never heard ‘’No’’ about their rules. Although, he is physically free but he is mentally a slave of society with the weapon of conformity. 1.1 Thesis Statement: The research study discusses the elements of conformity and Herd Mentality and Conformity of a modern man in the poem ‘’The Unknown Citizen’’ written by a renowned modern poet Wystan Hugh Auden (1907-1973). 1.2 Research objectives:  To identify the aspects of conformity among modern men in the poem, and the factors which leads to conformity of an individual.  To make a bond between the concepts of “Herd Mentality’’ and “The Unknown Citizen’’, and to understand the thread of connectivity between “Herd mentality’’ and the terminology of conformity. 1.3 Research Questions:  How has the writer portrayed the conformist aspects of modern man in the poem? 4  How does the poem “The Unknown Citizen’’ represents a “Herd Mentality’’? 1.4 Rational: The basic purpose of this research thesis is to analyze the causes of failure of nation due to conformity, by proving it a barrier in the path of mental development, innovation and creativity, as well as to propagate the message of belief in self instincts and self-reliance. To dig out the factors which lead to the conformity of an individual. There is constant development of consciousness in human beings, but elements of conformity suppress this process of development. 1.5 Significance: This topic is of vital significance as it has been discussed by renowned social scientists like Gustave Le Bon, Friedrich Nietzsche, Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud. According to the psychologist and sociologist of modern world, there is constant tussle between the elements of hierarchy and the groups of rebels or nonconformists. Thus, this thesis will help in the recognition of good and bad aspects of both the groups. This topic has its roots in social psychology and is being applied to literature, thus contributing to society, field of psychology and Literature. 1.6 Delimitation: Although, the poet has thrown light on so many aspects of a modern man, so many theories and concepts can be applied. However, this research thesis will only focus on aspects of Conformity and Herd Mentality. 5 Chapter 2 Literature Review Many research articles, research papers have been written and published in the account of Conformity and Herd Mentality. In this section, researcher will look at the works done by researchers Deshmukh (2012) argues that W.H Auden has presented a picture of ‘’Totalitarian’’ state where an ordinary citizen finds himself nowhere and leads a life of anonymity, thus having no social identity. Conformity of a modern man has confined him to the number only, though all state institutions are satisfied due to his behavior of not questioning status quo, but his own creative spirit had been suppressed. This unknown citizen has no individuality and is submissive, meek and passive. He swims along the stream and not against the stream, thus leading to his conformity and anonymity. He listens to his mind and not of his heart. He conforms to the norms and rules of society and state. The questions regarding his freedom and happiness are absurd, because freedom and happiness cannot be measured statistically, thus he is enslaved due to his conformity and blind acceptance of set beliefs. Das (2019) calls our attention towards the tragedy of a modern man, in the form of anonymity. He believes that society everywhere is in conspiracy against an individual, as it tries to shape every individual in the mold, designed by the society. Human being by nature, struggles to maintain his unique identity, but society never allows an individual to have his sustain his/her identity. Thus, one loses his “self’ amidst the crowd, and become one among many, saying adieu to his creativity and individuality. He gains worldly reputation and success but loses himself. Society acts like a god, and dictates an individual on how to live and how to think, not taking into consideration individuality, creativity and uniqueness. Human being is force to live a life in accordance to the set standards, based on falsehood. Emerson (1841) advocates the significance of nonconformity and drawbacks of conformity, he asserts that every human being is born with creative spirit, thus he does not need to imitate others rather he should detect the gleam of light which sparks within the being of that individual. According to Emerson, we should praise these flashes of individual insight even more than those of famous writers and philosophers. He argues that virtue in most respect is conformity while nonconformity is aversion, but a man should listen to the voices which arise out of his being in solitude. He believes that one of the good attributes of man is nonconformity and following the path of truth rather than joining the herd. He argues that society does not appreciate nonconformity. Russell (1928) questions the value judgement of modern era his where traditional standards that are set for judging morality and immorality, in this essay “harm that Good Man do”. He argues that the one deemed by society as “ideal good man” is not doing any good to the society, while the one regarded as “ideal bad man” is doing good in its true essence, but still he is not able to qualify as “Good Man”, due to the flaws, that are residing, in the whole system of value judgement. A man who is not so perfect in his conduct, but is good for the well-being of society, is deemed as bad. On the contrary, a man who never works for the progress and well-being of society, and is meek, passive, a devoted conformist, asks no 6 question, and does not bring new ideas is labeled as “Ideal Good Man”. Russell is questioning the traditional standards of judgement, on the base of which man is deemed as good and bad. According to Russell, one who goes regularly to church and does not converse unsophisticated language, is not necessarily the only good man, and the one who smokes and drinks, and uses a foul language is not necessarily a bad man. A so called good man give charity, but on the contrary, his other actions might be exploiting the poor masses. Thus, one should be judged rationally, keeping into consideration his contributions and utility, and not according to the traditional standards, that are based on falsehood. Hoodbhoy (2015) says that Humans are smart enough to make it to Plato, but that’s only if we use our brains well. At the instinctual level nature condemns our species to conformity and uniformity. Our brains are hardwired in a way that belief often gets precedence over reason and conformity over individual judgment. He argues that herd mentality is one of the instincts of human behavior, it is necessary for cooperation among human beings, but places where critical thinking is unusual, herds are readily manipulated by political leaders and demagogues. Just look at the nonchalance of Imran Khan and his followers after the judicial commission issued its report last month, during their dharna carnival last year, they made Islamabad grind to a halt. 7 CHAPTER 3 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY Research methodology is the specific procedure or technique used to identify, select, process, and analyze information about a topic. In a research paper, the methodology section allows the reader to critically evaluate a study's overall validity and reliability. 3.1) Research Method: Research methods are the strategies, processes or techniques utilized in the collection of data or evidence for analysis in order to uncover new information or create better understanding of a topic. There are different types of research methods which use different tools for data collection. 3.2) Textual analysis: Textual analysis is a methodology that involves understanding language, symbols, and/or pictures present in texts to gain information regarding how people make sense of and communicate life and life experiences. Visual, written, or spoken messages provide cues to ways through which communication may be understood. This research thesis follows the steps of qualitative research based on the analysis of human behavior of a modern man with the tool of conformity and ‘’Herd Mentality’’. The primary source of the research thesis is the original text of the poem, while the secondary sources of research thesis are: research articles, books and library searches related to the topic. 3.3) Theoretical Framework: The theoretical framework is the structure that can hold or support a theory of a research study. The theoretical framework introduces and describes the theory that explains why the research problem under study exists. Conformity is act of matching attitude, norms and beliefs with members of the group; it refers to the terminology of following others without having solid reasons. A member is isolated when he violates the shared rules and beliefs of social group, as a result an individual is compelled to follow the trodden path, but this conformity is the death of creativity and social development. In such situation morality is thus defined by sheared behavior of a group (Nietzsche). “Herd Mentality” or “Crowd Mentality” is the terminology in social psychology which refers to collective behaviors of individuals without centralized direction. Herd Morality and Herd Mentality has been discussed by many prominent philosophers and social scientists. Herd morality gives birth to herd mentality and conformity, which consequently leads to absurdity and nihilism. The aims of this research thesis are to analyze the elements of conformity in the aforementioned poem, by relating it to herd morality discussed by Nietzsche, and crowd behavior explained by Gustave Le Bon. 8 CHAPTER 4 DISCUSSION: Human being is born free and has been blessed with the creative spirit and an innate morality. Here by creative spirit we mean that every human is unique in capabilities, and innate morality means that regardless of culture, religion, creed, gender and ethnicity, every human being has the sense to differentiate between good and bad. Men can do marvels, if he/she realizes the inner strength. A person who realizes the inner gleam of light that sparks from within, are the one who can do marvels. They are actually the one who change the course of History, because they think differently and bring new ideas to the table, and bring revolution in their respective fields. Almost all great people went against the popular opinion of their time. Our holy Prophet Hazrat Muhammad (SAWW), whose life has been exemplary, as His contributions are reaching to the peak of human potential, which is the biggest phenomena, that has ever happened in human life. That all became possible, because of his commitment, consistency, consciousness, rationality, spirituality, self-awareness, excellence, risk management, strategy, non-conformity and so on. He (SAWW) went against the popular opinion of his time, based of His rationality and in the light of the message bestowed upon Him by Allah Almighty. He (SAWW) challenged the irrational and illogical norms that existed in contemporary society. He (SAWW) went against the stream and not along with it. He did not join the herd, and had a unifying project of life. His project was not for the short term gratification, rather His project had a noble cause, which under pinned well-being of humanity. Thus, He changed the course of history, and brought beacon and enlightenment to entire humanity. Furthermore, people like Nelson Mandela, Martin Luther King (junior), and Muhammad Ali Jinnah and few others who had vision and ideas, through which they did marvels, and we still remember them in golden words. They all had one thing in common, and that is their act of not going with the flow. All who had accomplished noble projects, are the ones who thought differently, who did not choose the trodden path. Non-conformity is the tool, which differentiates them from common people. Human potential is without limit, but it depends upon that individual, how he showcases his capabilities. It is he, who has the domain to decide for himself, whether he contribute his potential to the noble cause, meaner cause or evil cause. In addition, society never appreciate non-conformity, not realizing the potential a person has, and can do marvels if those capabilities got polished. Emerson (1918) argues that “Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. Society is a joint-stock company, in which the members agree, for the better securing of his bread to each shareholder, to surrender the liberty and culture of the eater”. (p. 3) Society is a kind of herd, and herd never want an individual to choose new path for himself. Members of the herd formulate and regulate morality, on the bases of falsified and odd principles and impose it on each member of the herd, and also tries to expand it beyond the herd, to engulf those higher humans who have the potential, and are never ready to join the herd, due to their rationality and creativity. Nietzsche (1901) believes that herd morality claims that “I am morality itself, and nothing besides is morality” (p. 116). Herd judges every individual in the light of this morality, and deems the one as either good or 9 bad. Most of the time, people who are creative and who think differently are labeled as bad and evil, just because they think differently. From last 2000 years, anti-natural morality is prevailing in the Europe, which is against the instincts of life, and is danger of dangers. A morality which brings down all that is rare, unique, creative and extraordinary. Modern world can be divided into two groups of people; the higher human and the herd, higher human are those who are creative, have unifying project in life and have clear vision. Higher humans try their level best to actualize their lofty goals. The fruits of their projects stay long for the welfare of mankind, even after the physical death of higher man. On the contrary, the herd is a larger group of people who always rushes towards comfort zone, and is never willing to take a risk, or to work for the betterment of mankind. Members of the herd are quintessential mediocre men, who strive solely for comfort and contentment, they are lazy and blindly accept, whatever is being imposed on them, let it be in the form of social norms, customs or laws of authoritative regime. In the herd there are the ones known as “The slave”, who due to their personal failures, and sick behaviors, cannot digest the success of higher humans, and miss no chance to bring them down, they express their envy under the pretext of calls for equality. The slaves are suffering from resentment, and are driven by envy and hatred towards all those who do not suffer like him, namely the higher humans. The slave strives to acquire power, for the sole purpose of exploitation and destruction, as a compensation for his own failure. In contrast, Friedrich Nietzsche and Ralph Waldo Emerson and other great intellectuals have always advocated the concept of non-conformity, as the path that ensures creative endeavors which contribute to the betterment of human society. One should not confined himself to the ideas of others, because he is not more than a slave. Society always tries to shape individuals according to the mold it has designed. Human being should analyze the pros and cons of any action, and should decide rationally what is good or bad. Innate morality can render help in decision making and value judgement. A wise person analyzes the pros and cons of an action, and derives a conclusion, based on his rationality and critical thinking. In the poem “The Unknown citizen” we find the government and society, which both, in various disguises compels and induces an individual to conform to the so called morality and laws, and to sacrifice his freedom and creative endeavors. A common man has been judged in the light of morality that is full of flaws and errors, and is just a blind belief systems, based on traditional mores and myths. An individual has been presented, who is just the product of semi-robotic and mechanical world, who has no say in the affairs of the state and that of the society. Auden (1940) argues that “That, in the modern sense of an old- fashioned word, he was a saint,” (p. 1) He adopts every behavior to be deemed as good by the state and society. He is socially successful, but failure as an individual. He thinks and acts, the way other wants him. Auden (1940) believes that “For in everything he did he served the Greater Community”. (p. 1). He is ideal good citizen in the eyes of the state, but the harm he is doing, by conforming to everything should not be undermined. Auden (1940) says that “One against whom there was no official complaint”. (p. 1). His behavior echoes with the character of an essay harm that good man do, by not questioning the social ills. He has no enemies, and everyone is satisfied with his behavior, which means that he agrees with everyone, without 10 using his critical thinking faculty. He is a coward, and a coward cannot achieve success in its true essence. Moreover, we find the traces of conformity, herd mentality and herd morality in the aforementioned poem. Auden has intentionally chosen the ironic tone, to call our attention to errors and flaws in the morality of modern world, which is anti-natural, thus it is against the basic instincts of human being, because there is a constant development of human consciousness, and herd morality is the impediment in the way of this development. This unknown citizen is the part of herd that is why he has been praised by the herd. He is the part of the herd, because he is lazy and dull. If he had been a higher human, he would have been an evil in the eyes of state and society. This unknown citizen is devoid of creative spirit, and is blind to higher values. He has no individuality, and is one among many. State institution are pleased with him because is never questions anything, and has turned blind eye to the ills around him. On other hand, Society never appreciates nonconformity rather considering it an aversion, not realizing the fact that nonconformity is the birth of ideas and creativity. Thus conformity does not render inner satisfaction and happiness. Auden (1940) asks that “Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd: Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard”. (p. 1) The herd is like a powerful beast, and has backing of masses, which adopts the shape of crowd or mob, and wages a war against everyone who tries to rise above the mediocrity. This war is also against those few higher humans, who are on the journey to accomplish to their lofty goals. The members of the crowd do not use their brains, and their behaviors are akin to primitive beings. They are the slaves of the impulses they receive from their masters, who may have their own evil agendas, but crowds are oblivious to those hidden agendas. They have no reasoning of their own, and are concerned solely with the instructions they receive from their masters. Crowds are often intolerant and possess extreme sentiments, and can cause harm to those few higher humans who contradicts with them. Riots, mob violence, extremism and sectarianism are all violent actions that often occurs, due to intolerant crowds. (Bon, 1895) Moreover, higher human have free spirits, have vast historical perspective, and can foresee the future. It has to be an eye opener that all great people were misunderstood at start, and the crowd left no stone unturned to inflict pain on them, but through strong commitment and consistency, they stood fast and accomplished the respective unifying projects of their lives. Higher human are the true hero, who never rush towards majority, rather maintain their individuality, and go along the path of righteousness and virtue, and at last they accomplish their goals. There is a constant conflict between the higher humans and the herd, while members of the herd strive for uniformity and conformity, on the contrary, higher humans are always committed to create a fruitful and vibrant society. The dilemma is that higher humans are few in number, while herd is gigantic, and has the backing of masses. More and more people are rushing towards herd because it requires less effort, to be the part of the herd, while higher humans have to struggle a lot, to accomplish their goals and project, to contribute to the well-being of mankind. 11 CHAPTER 5 CONCLUSION In conclusion, herd morality, as a part and parcel of herd mentality, is the danger of dangers, not only to the few higher humans, but also to the masses. Herding is the behavior of animals, and does not suit human beings, because human beings are blessed with creative spirit, and are ought to realize their inner strength and potential. Society and state should encourage individuals to come up with new ideas that can contribute to the welfare of mankind. Higher humans and intellectuals must not be tempted by the fallacious ideas of the herd, and should accomplish their lofty goals, despite the robust resistance from the herd. One should not conform blindly to the ideas of others, and should realize his/her potential, and his individuality. One should use the faculty of critical thinking in decision making and value judgement. Conformity, herd mentality and herd morality are the impediments in the way of creativity, innovation and development. The whole system of value judgement of a herd is falsified. Herd morality should not be regarded as universal and objective. I f herd morality became so effective in bringing down everything that is rare, unique and extra ordinary, nihilism will prevail in the world, which in turn will mark the death of human development and progress. The first question of the research thesis was that how had the poet portrayed the Conformity aspect of a modern man. The findings related to the question are such that the poet reveals various elements of modern era, which compel an individual to conformity. Poet unveils the evils of modern, materialistic and semi-robotic world by using ironic tone. Modern man has been presented as a conformist and helpless in the face of technocratic and bureaucratic government as well as in the face of society that celebrates Conformity. The second question of the research was that how does W.H Auden represent Herd Mentality and Conformity in the poem. So, in each line of the poem we find the traces of Herd Mentality which is the part and parcel of Herd Morality. Conformity has been shown as one of the aspects of Herd Mentality. The way an individual has been depicted as conforming everything reflects his Herd Mentality. Suggestions: This research study only focuses on aspects of Conformity and Herd Mentality of a modern man. The aforementioned poem can also be studied from other perspectives like:  Psychoanalytic approach  Totalitarianism  Absurdity  Existentialism 12 Bibliography  Deshmukh, A.V. (2012). The Unknown Citizen (To JS/07/M/378 This marble monument is erected by the State). Review of Research, 2(2), pp. 4-7.  Das, W. (2019). The tragedy of Human Conditions: The Anonymity of Modern Existence and Auden’s The Unknown Citizen. American Research Journal of Humanities and Social Science, 2(10), pp. 44-47.  Emerson, R.W. (1841). Self Reliance. Selected Essays.  Russell, E. (1928). Harm That Good Man Do. Skeptical Essays.  Hoodbhoy, P. (August 08, 20 First Series15) Herd Mentality in politics, Dawn Newspaper.  Nietzsche, F. (1886). Beyond Good and Evil: Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future. (W. Kaufmann, Trans.). New York, NY: Random House.  Bon, G.L. (2002). The Crowd: A Study of Popular Mind. New York, NY: Dover Publications. (Original work published 1895). 
work_sixkyedxv5aujpbtuegzq6spdi	----	OBITUARY In memoriam—Eulogy to Lodewijk Bos Luis Kun Published online: 1 April 2015 # IUPESM and Springer-Verlag Berlin Heidelberg 2015 Losing a colleague unexpectedly, at any time in your life, is a very sad and confusing time. Yet it is a reality check that combines the good times spent together with the sadness of the news and a reflection regarding our own mortality. When this person is, in addition, a good friend, the task of writing a eulogy becomes more dif- ficult because your heart and sentiments interfere deeply with the logic of writing a piece in this precise moment where all you want is to focus on the departed one and find the right words to honor him. Although what follows are mostly personal observa- tions, I have tried to project what his life and work meant to others. Obviously each of you, who knew him, either personally or professionally, may have other stories to share. During the World Congress 2015 of Medical Physics and Biomedical Engineering (WC 2015) that will take place in Toronto, I am planning (with my colleague, Andre Linnenbank) to have a spe- cial session to honor Lodewijk. I hope that you will be able to join us on that occasion to share with us your own stories. I met Lodewijk many years ago through my friend Swamy (Laxminarayan) and instantly our minds Bconnected^. Unfortunately with Swamy’s unex- pected passing away in September 2005, already 9 years ago, the dynamics changed. Since then, Swamy’s youn- gest brother, Raj, and I became very close friends and I invited him to come to Munich for WC 2009. During the inaugural party I introduced him to Lodewijk and instantly a great friendship got expanded one more time. Both Lodewijk and Raj became part of IFMBE’s Global Citizen Safety and Security Working Group. Since the summer of 2010, I had the pleasure and honor of work- ing with Lodewijk as co-Editors-in-Chief of the Journal of Health and Technology, co-owned by Springer and IUPESM. We co-wrote the inaugural editorial entitled: BJust another journal? No, a different one!^ (Introducto- ry Editorial). Health and Technology. URL:http://www. springerlink.com/content/w8383115811w8g7g/ That editorial reflects well the spirit we shared. Lodewijk didn’t share much information regarding his family, however at a personal level, on 19 August 2011 he wrote: B I have the sad duty of informing you of the passing away of my mother (the day before), leaving behind her hus- band of almost 57 years, 2 sons, a daughter and a daughter in law as well as 4 grandchildren^. 1 Wired Differently To say that Lodewijk was Bdifferent and unusual^ would not be enough to explain what his approach really meant to an ordinary person. His candor and appreciation of life was such that sharing circumstances that others would consider private or out of line, was, for him, normal. Lodewijk believed not only that social media was useful for communication and dis- semination purposes, but that individuals around the globe could improve (the health of others suffering from similar conditions) outcomes by sharing their own experiences, good and bad, so that we could all have a set of Blessons learned^ derived from our own living experiences. Here is an example of some segments he wrote on his personal blog entitled: Life of a Chemo Patient Lodewijk Bos’ Personal Blog—Unhappy again (and which can be found http://lodewijkbos.com/2012/08/17/unhappy-again/ ~ L. Kun (*) Chair IFMBE’s Global Citizen Safety and Security Working Group, Washington, DC, USA e-mail: hcii@aol.com Health Technol. (2014) 4:295–298 DOI 10.1007/s12553-015-0101-7 http://www.springerlink.com/content/w8383115811w8g7g/ http://www.springerlink.com/content/w8383115811w8g7g/ http://lodewijkbos.com/2012/08/17/unhappy-again/ by lodewijk bos on August 17, 2012) demonstrating how different Lodewijk was: On July 2 I had to have surgery on my left foot, as something was growing out of the side of it. As my GP told me that it was a tumor, although for the appearance of it benign, I decided to pay a visit to my oncologist, just to get an informed diagnosis. My oncologist called a dermatologist and both came to the conclusion that it most definitely was benign. As it was at the inner outside of the foot, it was beginning to hinder my walking abil- ities, already not the best part of my motorcapacities. So to surgery it went. And from there on it went wrong, seriously wrong. I was told I should not stand or walk on that foot for at least 2 days. And I was sent off, on foot. So by the time I arrived at the reception desk 5 floors down there was a whole blood trail running through the building. I was given new bandaging and this time someone went to find a wheelchair. I was told the bandages could be taken off after 2 days. Fortunate- ly I kept the information of the wound nurse that helped my to get through the open leg ordeal, 2.5 years ago. She came and started to take away the bandages. Her first words were BThat could have been done nicer .̂ Nobody was really surprised when the next day the threads tore and left a quite big open wound. I will save you the panicking discussion with the surgeon who had the impression he had seen something malign on the removed tissue, so suggested to take away a larger piece of the foot and cover it with some skin transplant. It was the surgeon’s proposal, although it was decided that my oncologist would take the lead if necessary. The sur- geon’s call came on Friday midday so I didn’t talk to my oncologist till Monday. He completely annulled the surgeon’s decisions. It took weeks to find out that when left alone, the healing speed of the wound could easily be beaten by the slowest kind of snail. So the nurse suggested to use a new kind of bandage Promogran Prisma. And lo and behold, it seems to work. However, since we started the Promogran, my neuropathy worsened. The open wound on top of my neuropathy was already hell, but that Fig. 1 World Congress, Munich September 2009, at the inaugural party from right to left: Lodewijk Bos, Rajaram Lakshminarayan and Luis Kun 296 Health Technol. (2014) 4:295–298 diminished considerably after a couple of days. Howev- er, after applying the new bandage, my foot started hurt- ing much more, but above all, my chemo brain came back in full force. When I get out of bed I stumble, having to catch myself not to fall. After 5 min that acute problem disappears (balancing problems remain how- ever), but then the next one appears. My eyes start to spontaneously turn direction nose bridge, as if I were squinting. Which makes concentrating a very complicat- ed business. Combined with the physical balance prob- lems, it leaves me, activity wise, almost paralyzed. Oh, and my tinnitus is worse than it has been for years. So I sincerely hope that the wound heals soon. As you can see from the picture, walking is no option, the wound is over 1.5 cms large. Oh, and if you know of any neurol- ogist who might be knowledgeable about this kind of problems (see BChemo brain. Recognition^?), Bplease contact me in the comment field.^ Lodewijk Bos was a person of vision who understood strat- egy very well. He was a trusted individual and his integrity and quality of outcomes were unsurpassed. Yet his operational capacity, to me, was one of the most impressive characteristics he had and that I have ever encountered before I met him. It was always a pleasure discussing with him any type of chal- lenge we encountered because of his disposition to listen and to implement quickly whatever was decided or needed. For example due to his effort, personal involvement and commit- ment, every time you attended the ICMCC annual conference, as you registered the first day to the meeting, you were given a hard-bound book which contained all the papers to be presented. After Swamy died in 2005, the BSwamy Laxminarayan Lecture^ was created and the first to deliver this keynote was Prof. Brian O’Connell, former President of the IEEE So- ciety of Social Implications of Technology (SSIT). Unfortu- nately, Brian died shortly after this event and within 24 h of my informing Lodewijk, the ICMCC website posted news of Brian’s death and an account of his professional life. In June 2009 my colleague Robert Mathews and I put to- gether an Interoperability Summit entitled Healthcare Reform or Healthcare Transformation at the National Academy of Science / Engineering in Washington DC. About 30 profes- sional organizations (i.e., ICMCC, IFMBE, SSIT, AIMBE, Fig. 2 Five years later in September 2013, during MEDICON 2013 in Sevilla, Spain, during the final dinner ceremony we met again. From left to right: Robert Istepanian, Luis Kun, Lodewijk Bos and Rajaram Lakshminarayan enjoying BLaura Roa’s party^ Health Technol. (2014) 4:295–298 297 EMBS, Computer Society, etc.) and 23 different Federal Agencies / Departments attended as well as many of you. Lodewijk’s website was the first place where any type of com- ments regarding this meeting was published. In March 2011, during the Fukushima earthquake—tsuna- mi and later nuclear / radiation crisis, through the IFMBE Global Citizen Safety and Security Working Group I was try- ing to help colleagues and the people from Japan. I spoke with Lodewijk and within 24 h he had at the ICMCC website a blog where individuals could ask questions and relevant materials could be shared. I saw him for the last time at the MEDICON 2013 dinner (Fig. 2). We spoke a lot during the summer months since in August we were publishing this special issue of the Journal on BGlobal Citizen Safety and Security.^ As usual he was very excited and pleased with the outcome. As I was leaving the CDC in Atlanta to come to the Wash- ington area, a dear friend gave me a poem entitled: BSuccess^, by Ralph Waldo Emerson . SUCCESS To laugh often and much to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. That is to have succeeded. I believe that Lodewijk Bos not only fits this definition of success but has joined now a list of colleagues who departed earlier and who have made the lives of many better. I am very sad for his sudden disappearance from our lives, yet I am thankful for having the opportunity to meet him and share moments of my life with him and all of those whom I met through him. Please let me or Andre know if you are interested in par- ticipating in a special Memorial session to be held during WC 2015 in Toronto. Part of the session will be presentation of technical papers. Immediately before or after this session, a second part sponsored by the IFMBE Global Citizen Safety and Security WG will be of a social nature, with the purpose of allowing those of you wishing to share stories about Lodewijk. We are hoping Lodewijk’s brother will be able to join us. Thank you Lodewijk for your contributions, for your friendship and for sharing yourself with us. You will not be forgotten … Your friend and colleague, Luis Kun 298 Health Technol. (2014) 4:295–298 In memoriam—Eulogy to Lodewijk Bos Wired Differently 
work_sjywlowsoffzlc63gpteiqzgw4	----	book reviews 299 © karen y. morrison, 2017 | doi: 10.1163/22134360-09103017 This is an open access article distributed under the terms of the prevailing cc-by-nc license at the time of publication. Armando García de la Torre José Martí and the Global Origins of Cuban Independence. Kingston: University of the West Indies Press, 2015. xiv + 225 pp. (Paper US$38.00) Armando García de la Torre incorporates Cuban national hero José Martí’s achievements as political organizer and literary talent into an important expo- sition of the global nature of Martí’s political and spiritual sensibilities.This fills the historiographic and ideological gap between early nineteenth-century anti- colonial movements in continental Latin America and Cuba’s independence struggles later in that century. Martí’s admiration for both the anti-imperialist successes of other Latin American nations and the quest for sovereignty in Europe’s Asian colonies serves to link historical periods, regions, and political objectives that could benefit from greater scholarly attention. Martí wanted his Cuban and other Latin American audiences to recognize the global com- monality of their anticolonialism. His writings describe other valiant fights for national sovereignty in places such as Venezuela, India, and Annam (later Viet- nam), whose people had been subjugated to colonialist oppression, but had either vanquished it or continued to struggle against it. García de la Torre is most innovative in attempting a non-Eurocentric read- ing of Martí, depicting a man who actively sought to escape the confines of western political philosophy from Hindu and Buddhist philosophies. While earlier scholars such as José Ballón Aguirre and Philip Foner have noted Martí’s engagement with transcendentalism, García de la Torre is the first to thor- oughly interrogate it. He acknowledges that Martí’s direct reading of classical Hindu texts is unprovable. However, Martí was unequivocal about his interest in the works of Boston Brahmins, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Euro- pean philosophers such as Karl C.F. Krause. Martí’s homage to Emerson serves as one piece of the project’s evidence. Martí wrote with praise that it was sitting “in the blinding glow of those brilliant Hindu books” that allowed Emerson to find unparalleled insights for humanity’s elevation (p. 73). García de la Torre compares Martí’s worldview with that found in the Hindu sacred poem, the Bhagavad-Gita. Instead of adopting a standard Judeo-Chris- tian philosophy of a fully external divinity, he professed the divinity that lived untapped within most people. Life’s purpose was to bring forth that divinity. García de la Torre argues that for Martí the struggle for Cuban independence was defined by that spiritual mission. “Martí conceived of the Cuban nation- state as divine, a ‘God patria,’ and not as a distinct entity composed of homoge- neous ethnic, historic, or linguistic elements, in contrast to other nationalists of his time” (p. 21). Through sacrifice, he argued, people move closer to their individual divinity and that of the nation. Downloaded from Brill.com04/06/2021 12:59:14AM via free access https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ 300 book reviews New West Indian Guide 91 (2017) 271–400 One limitation of García de la Torre’s ambitious project is that it is so focused on defending its original arguments that it ignores some of the long-established interpretations and contextualization of Martí. It is overreach to say that Martí did not draw on Cuba’s unique history in his effort to create political unity among its inhabitants. Caution is in order in discussing Martí’s emphasis on sacrifice and martyrdom solely in terms of Hindu thought. He would also have been well versed in Classical and Judeo-Christian history. Similarly, García de la Torre’s lack of recognition that Hindu philosophy sustained extreme social division in the form of a deeply entrenched caste system suggests a romanticization of Martí’s reading of it. This contradicts his explicit efforts to avoid previous hagiographic approaches to Martí. The book contributes to the continuing analysis of Martí’s views on race. While there is consensus on Martí’s rejection of biological racism, the extent to which his antiracism expanded into cultural terrains remains debated. By relying almost exclusively upon Martí’s relationships with late nineteenth- century Afro-Cuban political leaders Antonio Maceo, Rafael Serra, and Juan Gualberto Gómez, García de la Torre’s suggestion that his receptiveness to the “experiencing of African-derived Cuban culture” is insufficiently sustained. He leaves that term unexplained, and his readers may wonder how it pertains to the social behavior of the Afro-Cuban masses. He does not present any of these three Afro-Cubans as accepting or practicing worldviews outside of the dominant Eurocentric ones of their era. Nevertheless, the distinctions that he demonstrates in Martí’s relationships with each of them are useful in further exposing the heterogeneity of Afro-Cuban political radicalism. This is a valuable work. However, it faces some of the major challenges inher- ent in intellectual history, especially efforts to write it on a global scale. Intel- lectuals largely remain a very select class, regardless of their national origins. They are those whose thoughts survive in written texts. The philosophies of the masses remain unimagined and unaccessed. As Martí made intellectual efforts to link Cuban humanity to national sovereignty and to advance the welfare of its masses, especially Afro-Cubans, he lived with little knowledge of their worldviews. An irony of this book is that it ultimately demonstrates, against the protestations of its author, that even Martí’s progressive engagement with non-European thought was authorized primarily through white men such as Emerson. Karen Y. Morrison Department of History, San Francisco State University, San Francisco CA 94132, U.S.A. kymorris@sfsu.edu Downloaded from Brill.com04/06/2021 12:59:14AM via free access mailto:kymorris@sfsu.edu 
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work_sr3h4nihvvfrpbokce5cew6ofy	----	Microsoft Word - Linguae& vol.3_3 LED e poi MULLINI.doc Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 37 Jan Marten Ivo Klaver � Università di Urbino Jean Paul, Carlyle and Kingsley: The Romantic Tradition in Alton Locke�s Dreamland jmi.klaver@uniurb.it In the Wordsworthian tradition the adult has to go back to his childhood to find the sources for spiritual growth and rebirth, but in his novel Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet. An Autobiography (1850) Charles Kingsley goes one step further: he has his hero trace his own past in terms of a greater �evolutionary� process in which �the longing of my life to behold that cradle of mankind was satis- fied� (Kingsley 1850:335). Moving through �the lowest point of created life� he starts as a madrepore, then becomes in succession a soft crab, a remora, an ostrich, a mylodon, a baby-ape in Bornean forests, and, finally, �a child upon a woman�s bosom�. At each stage Alton is very much aware of his own self and the state he is in, so much so that he exclaims in retrospect: �Where I had picked up the sensation which my dreams realized for me, I know not; my waking life, alas! had never given me experience of it. Had the mind power of creating sensations for itself? Surely it does so, [...] which would seem to give my namesake�s philosophy the lie� (Kingsley 1850:338). It is in Alton�s dream- land that Kingsley diverges significantly from John Locke�s philosophy of knowledge. Kingsley�s impressive use of the successive stages of animal creation on earth has elicited numerous brief reactions that range from confusion to admi- ration, but very little in terms of analysis. Still, the dream is conceived of along regular ideas and concepts. Starting as a polyp without any distinct individual- ity � �I grew and grew, and the more I grew the more I divided, and multi- mailto:jmi.klaver@uniurb.it Jan Marten Ivo Klaver Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 38 plied thousand and ten thousand-fold� (Kingsley 1850:336) � Alton moves through the different stages of low animal life to mammal life and finally to man, each stage adding to his individuality and human qualities. During each reincarnation, Alton is judged and refused by Lillian, the woman he loves, and exterminated by his cousin, Lilian�s husband. The following passage, which re- flects much of Kingsley�s own inner sense of insecurity, frustration and shame, is a most effective and uncomfortable example: And I was a soft crab, under a stone on the seashore. With infinite starvation, and struggling, and kicking, I had got rid of my armour, shield by shield, and joint by joint, and cowered, naked and pitiable, in the dark, among dead shells and ooze. Suddenly the stone was turned up; and there was my cousin�s hated face laughing at me, and pointing me out to Lillian. She laughed too, as I looked up, sneaking, ashamed, and defenceless, and squared up at him with my soft useless claws. Why should she not laugh? Are not crabs, and toads, and mon- keys, and a hundred other strange forms of animal life, jests of nature � em- bodiments of a divine humour, at which men are meant to laugh and be merry? But alas! my cousin, as he turned away, thrust the stone back with his foot, and squelched me flat. (Kingsley 1850:337) When Alton reaches the mammal state as a South American sloth, the tension between the animal and the human comes out for the first time. Although Al- ton (as a mylodon) �had never before suspected the delight of mere physical exertion� (Kingsley 1850:338), a �spark of humanity [...] was slowly rekin- dling� in him, a humanity which initially articulates itself in a spark of altruistic feeling when mylodon-Alton brings on his own death when trying to save his cousin�s. As a result, Alton is reborn as a baby-ape and feels �stirring in me germs of a new and higher consciousness,� and is able to define a �yearning of love towards the mother ape�, but finally �the animal faculties in me were swallowing up the intellectual� (Kingsley 1850:341). Lillian once more recoils from Alton � �[s]he pointed up to me in terror and disgust� � and the cousin appears and shoots Alton. But Alton has learned the basic qualities of altruism and love, and is now ready to be reincarnated as a social human being. The following stages Alton has to go through in the second part of the dream are spiritual rather than physical. In producing a sequence of states of organic existence from the madre- pore to ape to man, Kingsley conveys very much what Tennyson expressed in the epilogue of In Memoriam in the very same year. Both are fascinating in- stances of how educated Victorians pondered the development theory which reached them from (Lyell�s representation of) Lamarck through to Chambers�s Vestiges of Creation, and both are emotional searches for the self in the stunning The Romantic Tradition in Alton Locke�s Dreamland Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 39 and imbecile vastness of what increasingly seemed an indifferent universe. More important than the idea that these early dreams anticipate Darwinian evolution (which strictly speaking they do not), is the representation of in- stinctive physical strength and a struggling consciousness of moral strength of purpose in man. As Kingsley felt fascinated by the idea of successive creations on a perfect (divine) plan, it is not surprising that he should have tried to link the animal and spiritual in an even more comprehensive theory of successive development in which a notion of improvement stands central. Thus, Alton�s dreams do show why Kingsley thought Darwinism so attractive when he, and the world, became acquainted with it ten years later. In 1850, however, Kingsley�s dream chapter clearly perplexed the first reviewers. Whereas Fraser�s Magazine and The Times kept conspicuously silent about Alton�s delirious dreams, the reviewer in Blackwood�s Edinburgh Magazine frankly admitted that these �visions of delirium [were] ambitiously written, but without either myth or meaning, so far as we can discover�, that they were �decidedly of a tawdry and uninterpretable description�. Moreover he adds that the dreams �bear internal evidence of having been copied at second-hand from Richter� (Aytoun 1850:596). The reviewer made an interesting point here, which, however, has not been followed up by later critics, not even in the recent renewed interest in Kingsley�s novel. The German Romantic author Johann Paul Friedrich Richter, commonly known under the pseudonym Jean Paul, made frequent use in his works of mystical dreams � short independent visionary pieces in dream form called �Traumdichtungen� � which display an obsession with conflicting polarities such as thought and feeling, temporal and eternal, despair and hope and are generally ways to overcome a tendency to atheism in the dreamer. (Smeed 1966:6,69) Kingsley, who always showed genuine interest in German litera- ture, had most likely read Richter�s works or knew about them through Car- lyle, who wrote two essays on the German author in the 1830s, including a translation of one of his dreams. In his works he is mentioned regularly and Carlyle did not hesitate to evoke Richterian language and imagery to convey Teufelsdröckh�s religious despair and his subsequent sensation of rebirth and faith in Sartor Resartus 1. For example, in the �Rede des todten Christus�in Sie- benkäs, the dream Carlyle translated for his 1830 essay on Jean Paul, Christ �schauete in den Abgrund�, or, in Carlyle�s translation, �looked down into the ���������� 1 In the following discussion I am much indebted to J.W. Smeed, who, in his study Jean Paul�s �Dreams� (1966), noted the parallels between Jean Paul�s �Rede des Todten Chri- stus� and Carlyle�s Sartor Resartus. Jan Marten Ivo Klaver Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 40 Abyss�, which in Sartor Resartus becomes �through the ruins as of a shivered Universe was he falling, falling, toward the abyss�. Kingsley�s hero too �looked down the abysses� and �fell and fell for ages�. Compare the further affinty between the following two sets of passages: Ich stieg herab [...] und schauete in den Abgrund. (Paul 1986:I.643) I descended [...] and looked down into the Abyss. (Carlyle�s translation of �Rede des Todten Christus� in Smeed 1966:87) I was doomed to climb and climb forever [...] I looked down the abysses (King- sley 1850:335) and Ein unermesslich augedehnter Glockenhammer sollte die letzte Stunde der Zeit schlagen und das Weltgebäude zerslittern (Paul 1983:I.645) An immeasurably-extended Hammer was to strike the last hour of Time, and shiver the Universe asunder (Carlyle�s translation of �Rede des Todten Christus� in Smeed 1966:87) thick curtains of Night rushed over his soul, as rose the immeasurable Crash of Doom; and through the ruins as of a shivered Universe (Carlyle 1940:112) an earthquake shook the hills � great sheets of woodland slid roaring and crash- ing into the valleys � a tornado swept through the temple halls, which rocked and tossed like a vessel in a storm: a crash [...] buried me (Kingsley 1850:336) But although Kingsley seems to have picked up many elements of the �Rede des todten Christus� distilled in Sartor Resartus, Alton�s dream also seems to owe much to Jean Paul directly. It is difficult to pinpoint one clear example for Alton�s dream, and ingredients of at least three other Traumdichtungen are present. In a later dream in Siebenkäs a character is, like Alton, laid up with a fever and the delirious visions of his illness turn into a nightmarish dream of destruction and annihilation, a state also evoked by Kingsley at the beginning of his dream chapter. The river Alton is doomed to climb up is reminiscent of Albano�s second dream in Titan: Ich fuhr in einem weissen Kahn auf einem finstern Strom, der zwischen glatten, hohen Marmorwänden schoss. An meine einsame Welle gekettet, flog ich bange im Felse-Gewinde, in das zuweilen tief ein Donnerkeil einfuhr. Plötzlich drehte sich der Strom immer breiter und wilder um eine Wendeltreppe herum und hi- The Romantic Tradition in Alton Locke�s Dreamland Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 41 nab. � Da lag ein weites, plattes, graues Land um mich, das die Sonne-Sichel mit einem eklen, erdfahlen Licht begoss. (Paul 1986:II.455) A river ran from its summit; and up that river-bed it seemed I was doomed to climb and climb forever, millions and millions of miles upward, against the stream. The thought was intolerable, and I shrieked aloud [...] My eyes revelled in vastness, as they swept over the broad flat jungle at the mountain feet, a deso- late sheet of dark gigantic grasses (Kingsley 1850:335) More interestingly still, the final dream of Flegeljahre is presented in the form of a creation myth which traces the genesis of the earth out of the �Welt-ei� in a watery chaos through a series of brutal images of animal earthly desire � �He- isshunger und Blutdurst� (Paul 1986:III.377). In general, the cosmological vastness of its settings, and the religious and mystical sensations of Jean Paul�s dreamers, are present in Alton�s dream, and the rhythmical language of the Traumdichtungen is successfully reproduced by Kingsley. These examples seem to indicate that Kingsley was indeed much influ- enced by Jean Paul�s Traumdichtungen, as the reviewer in Blackwood�s Edin- burgh Magazine maintained, but to say that these dream passages were �copied at second-hand� from the German writer is excessive and unfair to Kingsley�s genius. Although there are a few signs of verbal parallels, which most likely crept in through Kingsley�s knowledge of Sartor Resartus, the other parallels mentioned here do not bear traces of copying or rewriting Jean Paul, but rather show a wish to write in the tradition of the German Traumdichtungen. Moreover, the theme which is at the base of most of Jean Paul�s dreams � the existence of a �zweite Welt� � is not uncommon in Kingsley�s works gener- ally. Alton�s journey into the unconscious past of mankind is, in fact, not un- like the baptismal rebirth of Tom that Kingsley created thirteen years later in The Water-Babies. For example, Alton�s dreamland is initially described as his soul being carried �to a cavern by the sea-side, and [being] dropped [in]� and he �fell and fell for ages�, till he has, like Tom, to start his process of regen- eration from the very bottom of creation. Kingsley clearly felt fascinated with the idea by falling from a height or precipice into another world. Thus Tre- garva in Yeast is converted on the brink of a Cornish mine-shaft where he �saw through the ground all the water in the shafts glaring like blood, and all the sides of the shafts fierce red-hot. As if hell was coming up� (Kingsley 1851: 255), something which kept haunting his dreams: �falling down them, down, down, all night long, till I awoke screaming� (Kingsley 1851:254). A turning point in the uncompleted novel The Tutor�s Story is also created, though less skilfully managed, when Mr Brownlow falls in a wide black fissure in the Jan Marten Ivo Klaver Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 42 Yorkshire countryside and wavers on the brink of death for a dark and cold night before being rescued. The experience is again presented as a dream-like sensation (Kingsley 1916:132-3). But Alton�s fall stands out from all these in its spellbound tracing of the biological and spiritual origins of man. From the creation of the earth to the final boring of the mountain, which is developed along the lines of Moses leading the people into the Holy Land, the whole epi- sode is truly Mosaic in scope. With Alton�s dream Kingsley returned to the structure of Sartor Resartus by signalling the passage from the �Everlasting No� to the �Everlasting Yea�, from utter negation to acceptance of the �poor, miserable, hampered, despi- cable Actual� as the Ideal (Carlyle 1940:148). It is therefore only natural that Kingsley would emphasize in it the Carlylean idea of duty and work which made the acceptance of the Actual possible and reveals Kingsley�s answer to Chartism: But I went out, and quarried steadfastly at the mountain. And when I came back the next morning, the poor had risen against the rich, one and all, crying, �As you have done to us, so will we do to you�; and they hunted them down like wild beasts, and slew many of them, and threw their carcases on the dunghill, and took possession of their land and houses, and cried, �We will be all free and equal as our forefathers were, and live here, and eat and drink, and take our pleasure.� Then I ran out, and cried to them, Tools! will you do as these rich did, and neglect the work of God! If you do to them as they have done to you, you will sin as they sinned, and devour each other at the last, as they devoured you. The old paths are best. Let each man, rich or poor, have his equal share of the land, as it was at first, and go up and dig through the mountain, and possess the good land beyond, where no man need jostle his neighbour, or rob Him, when the land becomes too small for you. Were the rich only in fault? Did not you, too, neglect the work which the All-Father had given you, and run every man after his own comfort? So you entered into a lie, and by your own sin raised up the rich men to be your punishment. For the last time, who will go up with me to the mountain?� Then they all cried with one voice, �We have sinned! We will go up and pierce the mountain, and fulfil the work which God set to our forefa- thers.� We went up, and the first stroke that I struck, a crag fell out; and behold, the light of day! and far below us the good land and large, stretching away boundless towards the western sun. (Kingsley 1850:347-8) At this point Alton is ready to wake up. It is out of such dreams that the dreamer in the Romantic tradition awakes cured and reborn. After a �healing sleep, the heavy dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new Heaven and a new Earth�, Carlyle has Teufelsdröckh say in Sartor Resartus, (Carlyle The Romantic Tradition in Alton Locke�s Dreamland Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 43 1940:141) and Alton too, �passed, like one who recovers from drowning through the painful gate of birth into another life� (Kingsley 1850:359). Al- though the underlying idea is again Jean Paul�s, it is Carlyle�s direct influence which is more palpable here. Compare: ... als ich erwachte. Meine Seele weinte vor Freude, dass sie wieder Gott anbe- ten konnte (Paul 1986:I.645) ... WHEN I AWOKE. My soul wept for joy that I could still pray to God ... (Carlyle�s translation of �Rede des Todten Christus� in Smeed 1966:87) The heavy dreams rolled gradually away, and I awoke to a new Heaven and a new Earth. (Carlyle 1940:141) ... behold, the light of day! and far below us the good land and large, stretching away boundless towards the western sun [...] I passed, like one who recovers from drowning, through the painful gate of birth into another life (Kingsley 1850:359) But Alton�s reconciliation with the Actual, with necessity and freewill, is not simply Teufelsdröckh�s either. It had been made clear earlier on in the novel that such conclusions might lead to the meaningless, because outdated, pan- theism of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Moreover, nature as a healing force was simply not available to the urban worker in early Victorian society. Therefore, waking up, Alton is reconverted to Christianity and is made aware of the fal- lacy of his ideal, with the Charter �dead, and liberty further off than ever�, that �You are free; God has made you free. You are equals � you are broth- ers� (Kingsley 1850:361). It is in the final chapters that Alton embraces what F.D. Maurice�s theol- ogy taught, and as with the introduction of the Prophet in Yeast, turns the Al- ton Locke into a celebration of his ideals of Christian brotherhood. The ex- aristocrat Eleanor, who nurses Alton through his illness, also turns out to be his spiritual nurse. She tells him how she herself had �succeeded [in projects of association] � as others will succeed, long after my name, my small endeav- ours, are forgotten amid the great new world � new church I should have said � of enfranchised and fraternal labour� (Kingsley 1850:376; italics mine). It is the clergy (of the Church of England) who are to lead the people to associa- tion: �Without the priesthood there is no freedom for the people.� (Kingsley 1850:380) The final turn of the novel is thus away from Locke, away even from Carlyle, in a complete embrace of Maurice�s teaching of the kingdom of Christ. As such, Alton Locke was a perfect expression of the Christian Socialist movement, out of which it grew. Jan Marten Ivo Klaver Linguæ & � 1/2003 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 44 BIBLIOGRAPHY [Aytoun, W.E.] (1850), �Alton Locke, Tailor and Poet: An Autobiography�, Black- wood�s Edinburgh Magazine, 68: 592-610. Carlyle, Thomas (1940), Sartor Resartus; On Hero Worship, London, Dent. Cripps, Elizabeth A. (1983), �Introduction to �Alton Locke��, in Kingsley (1850) 1983: vii-xxviii. Gottlieb, Evan M. (2001), �Charles Kingsley, the Romantic Legacy, and the Unmak- ing of the Working-Class Intellectual�, Victorian Literature and Culture, 29: 51-65. Hall, Donald E. (ed., 1994), Muscular Christianity: Embodying the Victorian Age, Cam- bridge, Cambridge University Press. Hall, Donald E., (1994) �On the Making and Unmaking of Monsters: Christian Social- ism, Muscular Christianity, and the Metamorphazation of Class Conflict�, in Hall (ed., 1994): 45-65. Hartley, Allen J. (1977), The Novels of Charles Kingsley; A Christian Social Interpretation, Folkestone, Hour-Glass Press. Haynes, R.D. (1987), �The Multiple Functions of Alton Locke�s Dreamland�, Cahiers Victoriens et Edouardiens, 25: 29-37. Kaye, Richard A. (1999), ��Determined Raptures�: St. Sebastian and the Victorian Dis- course of Decadence�, Victorian Literature and Culture, 27: 269-303. Kingsley, Charles (1850), Alton Locke: Tailor and Poet. An Autobiography, ed. Elizabeth A. Cripps, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1983. Kingsley, Charles (1851), Yeast: A Problem, London, John W. Parker. Kingsley, Charles (1916), The Tutor�s Story, New York, Dodd, Mead. Menke, Richard (2000), �Cultural Capital and the Scene of Rioting: Male Working-Class Authorship in Alton Locke�, Victorian Literature and Culture, 28: 87-108. Rauch, Alan (1993), �The Tailor Transformed: Kingsley�s Alton Locke and the No- tion of Change�, Studies in the Novel, 25: 196-213. Paul, Jean (1986), Werke, 3 Bde., München, ed. Norbert Miller, Carl Hanser Verlag. Reboul, Marc (1973), Charles Kingsley; La formation d�une personnalité et son affirmation lit- teraire (1819-1850), Paris, Presses Universitaires de France. Rosen, David (1994), �The Volcano and the Cathedral: Muscular Christianity and the Origins of Primal Manliness�, in Hall (ed. 1994): 17-44. Smeed, J.W. (1966), Jean Paul�s �Dreams�, London, Oxford University Press. Uffelman, Larry K. (1979), Charles Kingsley, Boston, Twayne. 
work_stgnd2hjf5ettmzqcp3txffbl4	----	Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 77 Recensioni Una bandiera rovesciata sigriD rausiNg (eD.), AmericAn Wild, graNta, the MagaziNe of New writiNg / 128, suMMer 2014, pp. 252. Il termine Wild, che dà il titolo a questa recente raccolta di Granta, è altamente evocativo anche per un lettore non americano, o non americanista. Basti pen- sare a “The West Wild Show”, che portò il leggendario Buffalo Bill in Euro- pa; oppure alla canzone “Born to Be Wild” (Steppenwolf 1968) che fu il pez- zo più importante della colonna sonora dell’altrettanto leggendario film Easy Rider (Dennis Hopper 1969); oppure, alla canzone di Lou Reed “Walk on the Wild Side” (1972); oppure, ancora, al film Into the Wild di Sean Penn (2007) tratto dal libro omonimo di Jon Krakauer; o ancora, più semplicemente, all’a- cronimo del WWF, l’associazione che si impegna proteggere la “wild life” del pianeta, cioè la natura e gli animali. Ma bisogna forse essere americani, o almeno studiosi della cultura ameri- cana, per comprendere appieno la scelta, effettuata dalla curatrice del presente volume collettaneo, di dedicare un intero numero di Granta a questo concetto, wild, che è insieme aggettivo, simbolo e nome. Wild è legato a un’altra parola, wilderness, che rappresenta tutto ciò che è selvaggio, vale a dire non addome- sticato, non ricondotto o riconducibile nei binari ed entro le regole della “ci- viltà”: un termine usato in epoca puritana (coloniale) per indicare i luoghi pe- ricolosi infestati da demoni, indigeni e belve feroci, e in epoca più recente per identificare il patrimonio di parchi naturali degli USA. Forse per tutte queste ragioni la curatrice non avrebbe dovuto aspettarsi, come invece confessa di aver fatto all’inizio, contributi che si riferissero alla wilderness in modo metaforico: infatti, come lei stessa ammette, “this is Ame- rica, a genuinely wild land” (p. 8) – e quindi le storie che compongono questo affascinante mosaico americano rappresentano un viaggio autentico nei luoghi http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 78 selvaggi di questo Paese, e incontri autentici con persone e situazioni altrettan- to wild – diverse, inconsuete, non convenzionali. I racconti sono molto diversi tra loro, per stile, ambientazione, personag- gi, temi: ma tutti sono ricollegabili a questo nome/aggettivo/simbolo – wild – che viene declinato in ogni sfumatura possibile di significato. Sia che l’azione sia ambientata in una baracca del Colorado (“Thing with feathers that perch- es in the soul” di Anthony Doerr), o in una riserva Crow (“Exotics” di Callan Wink); sia che si parli di discriminazione razziale (“A Confession” di Jess Row) o di disastro ecologico (“Chasing wolves in the American West” di Adam Nicolson); sia che si descriva la tristezza dei colori del tramonto (“Beyond Sun- set” di Mary Ruefle) o che si inventino favole moderne come “The Mast Year” di Diane Cook o “Mirage” di Claire Vaye Watkins; e perfino quando il wild si domesticizza nel dialogo fra due gatti (“self-portrait” di Martin Amis), appa- re chiaro che il legame profondo tra tutti questi racconti è il caleidoscopio di emozioni e sentimenti che ricollega gli autori e i loro personaggi all’alma mater – come la chiamava Crevecoeur due secoli fa – americana. C’è poi un sotto-testo letterario che percorre tutta la raccolta, annodando idealmente le storie intorno alla citazione da Emily Dickinson (Hope, cioè la spe- ranza, è quella “Thing with feathers that perches in the soul”, p. 14) e all’omag- gio thoroviano “A Meeting of Minds with Henry David Thoreau” di Andrew Motion. Dickinson (la più grande poetessa americana di tutti i tempi) e Thoreau (legato al movimento Trascendentalista) sono due pilastri dell’Ottocento ame- ricano: la prima senza mai uscire di casa per tutta la sua vita, il secondo andan- do a vivere volontariamente e in solitudine in una capanna sul lago di Walden, rappresentano entrambi una scelta esistenziale radicale, eterodossa, quasi ereti- ca, dove il wild è più legato all’ambito introspettivo, a una condizione dell’ani- ma, piuttosto che a un preciso luogo geografico. Thoreau, fra l’altro, è citato an- che in “Krapp Hour” di Anne Caron, che porta sulla pagina i dialoghi di un talk show, insieme a Jack Kerouac (il celebre autore del romanzo On the Road, 1957) e ai suoi amici della cosiddetta beat generation Cassady, Ginsberg e Burroughs, a ragione definiti “the greatest American writers since the Transcendentalists” (p. 181). Non solo: “Krapp Hour”, pur senza nominarlo esplicitamente, si ricollega a molte poesie e racconti di Delmore Schwartz, un autore ebreo americano atti- vo dagli anni ’30 agli anni ’60 di cui Carson riprende, fra l’altro, l’uso del dialogo strutturato a botta-e-risposta e l’utilizzo del termine “Ghost” a indicare sia il fan- tasma, sia lo Spirito Santo (“Holy Ghost”, che si ricollega però anche alla simbo- lica ripetizione di “Holy” nella lungo poema di Ginsberg Howl, 1955). Come si può vedere, questo libro si presenta anche come una rivisitazione di alcune tra le tappe principali nella storia della letteratura americana. E c’è naturalmente l’altra faccia del wild, o la sua faccia più oscura, come la denuncia del duro lavoro femminile alla ‘catena di montaggio’ della pulizia Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 79 del pesce in “River so close” di Melinda Moustakis, dove il dramma di donne che faticano sedici ore al giorno in condizioni disumane ai limiti della soprav- vivenza si può riassumere nell’interrogativo quotidiano: “Sleep or shower?” – “Dormo o mi faccio la doccia?”, p. 55). Per finire, completano il volume numerose fotografie, la più bella delle quali, e che a mio parere avrebbe dovuto essere usata come foto di copertina, appartiene alla sezione intitolata “Mitakuye Oyasin” (Aaron Huey): è quella che ritrae un accampamento di nativi americani membri di un gruppo di resi- stenza nel South Dakota. Accanto a un tepee si vedono alcune persone, un’au- tomobile, e poi ancora una bandiera americana: solo dopo qualche istante di perplessità si nota che è montata al contrario, come simbolo di sfida al potere degli invasori. Alessandra Calanchi Testimonianze multiculturali nel Regno Unito sergio guerra, Figli dellA diAsporA: romAnzo e multiculturAlità nellA grAn BretAgnA contemporAneA (1950-2014), faNo, aras eDizioNi, 2014, pp. 265 Scrivo questa recensione due giorni dopo l’attentato parigino a Charlie Hebdo e avverto tutta l’attualità del libro di Sergio Guerra che ho appena letto: Figli della diaspora: Romanzo e multiculturalità nella Gran Bretagna contemporanea (1950-2014). Concepito come un manuale rivolto in primo luogo agli studen- ti universitari, ma capace di coinvolgere un più ampio pubblico, il libro si pro- pone di mappare la letteratura Black British e British Asian, quindi i romanzi prodotti in Gran Bretagna a partire dal secondo dopoguerra in seguito alle dia- spore originatesi nelle ex-colonie di Caraibi, Africa e Asia. È un campo di ricerca che di recente ha visto una fioritura di studi, anche in Italia, come mostra Black Arts in Britain: Literary, Visual, Performative (2011), un volume miscellaneo – curato da Annalisa Oboe e Francesca Giommi – che allarga l’indagine critica all’ambito culturale. Del nesso imprescindibile tra let- teratura e cultura è d’altronde ben consapevole lo stesso Guerra, che ha al suo attivo un’antologia intitolata Introduzione agli Studi Culturali Britannici (2002). Figli della diaspora è chiaramente frutto di un percorso di ricerca intra- preso dall’autore da molti anni e sviluppatosi attraverso l’esperienza didatti- ca, il confronto sul campo con la trasmissione del sapere. È questo il punto di Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 80 forza del libro, che esamina un fenomeno ampio nella sua complessità, con la volontà di avvicinare a questa complessità chi non dispone ancora degli stru- menti necessari – di tipo metodologico, storico, letterario – per comprenderla. Trovo il volume utilissimo sul piano dell’insegnamento proprio perché mira a costruire le competenze del lettore attraverso un percorso molto nitido: un capitolo iniziale che delinea la storia dell’immigrazione in Gran Bretagna, nel suo rapporto con la storia dell’Impero e con lo sviluppo di ideologie razzi- ste, ma anche con l’abolizionismo, ricordandoci che la presenza di neri e asia- tici in Gran Bretagna – anche in veste di autori – è radicata ben più in profon- dità di quanto si potrebbe a tutta prima pensare. Mi limiterò a citare la prima slave narrative pubblicata in inglese: A Narrative of the Most remarkable Par- ticulars in the Life of James Albert Ukawsaw Gronniosaw, an African Prince, As related by himself (1772), che ripercorre la vita dell’autore dalla cattura in Afri- ca alla schiavitù e alla libertà, ma anche alla povertà sperimentata in territorio inglese. Gronniosaw è uno dei tanti scrittori che il volume ricorda nell’intento di restituire ai Black British e British Asian il ruolo che hanno avuto nello svi- luppo della cultura britannica, nel corso dei secoli e in particolare in seguito al- le ondate migratorie del Novecento. Il secondo capitolo muove dall’approccio storico a quello teorico, nell’in- tento di delineare alcuni concetti chiave per la comprensione dei fenomeni dia- sporici e del multiculturalismo. Vengono qui esplorati termini come ‘Home’, Cross-cultural adaptation, Differenze generazionali, Ibridità, Blackness e British- ness, Post-ethnic e post-racial, Transnazionalismo e cosmopolitismo, Multicultu- ralismo. Questa galassia concettuale rende il senso dei problemi che il fenome- no letterario Black British / British Asian pone e del bagaglio teorico che è sta- to sviluppato in anni recenti attraverso lo studio delle dinamiche diasporiche. Segue un terzo capitolo – nuovamente di taglio storico – in cui l’autore si confronta nello specifico con le culture Black British e Black Asian, raccon- tate nel loro sviluppo dalla data simbolica del 1948, anno del Nationality Act e dell’arrivo in Gran Bretagna della Empire Windrush, la prima nave di migranti caraibici. Centrale è qui il conflitto politico e sociale: l’atteggiamento dei parti- ti conservatori al governo, il razzismo della polizia, la violenza degli skinhead, i riot che si sviluppano a più riprese nei quartieri poveri di Londra e di altre cit- tà. Non mancano però tentativi di ‘incontro’, come lo sviluppo della Common- wealth Literature, materia di studio la cui nascita è sancita nel 1964 da un con- vegno all’Università di Leeds. La società britannica prende contatto con la presenza Black British e Black Asian attraverso un processo duplice, di ostilità e ospitalità, di rifiuto e riconoscimento. La presenza dei black si fa sentire in modo via via più incisi- vo sulla scena musicale, letteraria, del cinema, della fotografia, ma anche per le strade di Londra, come mostra il successo del carnevale di Notting Hill. Il fe- Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 81 nomeno è complesso e l’autore ripercorre i vettori contrastanti di cui si com- pone questo campo di forze, che porta al rimodellamento dell’identità britan- nica in senso più ampio e sfaccettato. Segue un’ampia sezione centrale in cui Figli della diaspora – fedele all’i- dea cardine di mappatura – esplora la biografia e la produzione di numero- si autori caraibici, africani, asiatici, tracciando una serie di schede che nell’era di internet potrebbero parere superflue e che sono tuttavia giustificate dal ta- glio didattico. Internet è sì uno strumento prezioso, per chi sa cosa cercare, ma Guerra vuole appunto ‘formare’, anche attraverso la costruzione di un reper- torio di autori i cui profili sono presentati in modo conciso ma incisivo, sem- pre con spirito critico. La volontà di sistematizzare presiede anche alla sezione successiva, in cui vengono esplorati generi, stili e linguaggi della letteratura Black British e Bri- tish Asian. Solo al termine di questo lungo percorso introduttivo e formati- vo, l’autore esercita il suo affondo critico. I cinque case studies che seguono esplorano autori come Hanif Kureishi, Timothy Mo, Meera Syal, Hari Kunzru, per concludersi con una più ampia riflessione su “La rappresentazione dei musulmani nella letteratura diasporico-britannica contemporanea”. Queste pagine ci riportano all’attualità di Figli della diaspora, dove Guer- ra ricorda come dagli anni Ottanta “controversie e dibattiti riguardanti i musulmani sono fioriti nell’arena pubblica intorno a temi come la libertà di espressione, il multiculturalismo o il terrorismo” (229). Inutile dire che i re- centi fatti di Parigi hanno riportato questi temi al centro del dibattito politico e culturale. E se è con commozione e tristezza che ho appreso delle morti dei disegnatori di Charlie Hebdo e delle altre vittime – tra cui ricordo il poliziotto musulmano Ahmed Merabet – al contempo è con fiducia e speranza in un fu- turo migliore che ho ascoltato, sui media italiani, francesi, britannici, servizi e interviste da cui traspare la ferma volontà di non lasciare che il terrorismo po- larizzi opinioni e identità, frenando quel processo di dialogo e integrazione nel rispetto delle differenze che caratterizza l’Europa di oggi. Con queste riflessioni sul presente concludo la lettura di un volume che si propone una missione alta, fondante per la società: quella di formare i giovani, evitando i tecnicismi di un discorso scientifico inaccessibile ai più e cercando viceversa di costruire una consapevolezza culturale, sociale, politica partendo dalle fondamenta. Quello di Guerra è un atteggiamento didattico pragmatico e diretto che come insegnante condivido, anche nella scelta di un uso spiglia- to della lingua vicino ai lettori più giovani. Grazie all’autore per questo libro, che molti studenti leggeranno con profitto e che spero contribuirà a fare di lo- ro migliori cittadini nell’Europa di domani. Maurizio Ascari Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 82 Dedicato alle donne innamorate giaNfraNca Balestra (a cura Di), Women in love. ritrAtti di donne in letterAturA, arteMiDe, roMa, 2014, pp. 276. È raro che un volume collettaneo, per giunta scritto in onore di una colle- ga-docente in procinto di andare in pensione, riservi al lettore tanti spunti di interesse e tante piacevoli sorprese come questo di cui ho scelto di parlare (a cui si affianca un volume “gemello” che si intitola Women in Translation. Donne in traduzione, a cura di Carla Francellini, stesso editore stesso anno). Personalmente, ammetto di conoscere e apprezzare sia la curatrice, Gianfranca Balestra, sia la destinataria, Giovanna Mochi, ma, oggettivamente, questo volu- me è piacevolissimo e gradevolissimo a prescindere. A partire dal titolo infat- ti – un evidente omaggio a D.H. Lawrence – il volume è caratterizzato da un grande amore per la Letteratura (con la L maiuscola) prima ancora che dall’in- teresse per il campo specifico di cui vuole occuparsi (le donne innamorate nel- la letteratura) e questo aggancia subito l’attenzione in un gioco di affetti, di ci- tazioni, di rimemorazioni che è ben noto a chi ami, appunto, non solo le varie letterature nazionali ma la Letteratura tout court. Nelle pagine di questo libro – alla stesura del quale hanno partecipa- to noti e meno noti studiosi e studiose di letteratura inglese, angloamericana, portoghese, russa, latina, tedesca, francese, ispanoamericana e italiana, non- ché di filologia, discipline dello spettacolo e letteratura comparata – si ritrova quell’ampio respiro che spesso manca agli studi di settore, quell’orizzonte ve- ramente internazionale, erudito e interdisciplinare che collega, come grazie a una rete invisibile, Shakespeare a Genette, Virginia Woolf a Ines de Castro, la femme fatale alla musa ispiratrice. Ora oggetto del racconto ora soggetto del narrare, la donna è sempre e comunque protagonista assoluta del volume, nei contributi degli studiosi come in quelli delle studiose, nei saggi sul medioevo come in quelli sul postmoderno o sul mondo antico. Gianfranca Balestra, che è americanista e ha scritto ampiamente su Edith Wharton, Alice Munro e Margaret Atwood, apre la sua bella “Introduzione” citando Emily Dickinson (e subito dopo Rimbaud) e portando dunque il letto- re nel territorio della poesia; da qui si passerà alla narrativa, per poi approda- re alla riscrittura, alla traduzione, alla messa in scena. Tanti modi e tante forme per parlare di donne innamorate, di donne e desiderio romantico, di corpo e di scrittura. Senza dimenticare, accanto alle grandi protagoniste della scena lette- raria già ricordate, i nomi di autrici meno note che, nel parere della curatrice, meritano di essere (ri)scoperte. Il libro, che segue una struttura in ordine cronologico, si compone di cin- que sezioni. La prima si intitola “Modelli classici e medioevali. Riscritture” e Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 83 comprende, tra gli altri, un saggio sulla figura di Brunilde e uno su quella di Ele- na, due tra i personaggi femminili più noti rispettivamente della letteratura me- dievale e del mito classico, rivisitati in modo tale che ne percepiamo la scottante modernità. La seconda parte, “La messa in scena dell’amore”, riunisce saggi de- dicati soprattutto al teatro shakespeariano e alla commedia, mentre la successi- va, intitolata “Amori modernisti”, affronta diversi romanzi e romanzieri (fra cui James Joyce e Virginia Woolf) e uno dei più celebri processi a libri, quello a L’a- mante di Lady Chatterley. La quarta sezione, “Donne che scrivono d’amore”, si muove tra narrativa francese, inglese, messicana e canadese, mentre la quinta e ultima parte, “Women in love?” include scrittrici poco note e avvolte nel mistero che vengono presentate con lo sguardo indagatore del detective, tanto da giustifi- care il punto interrogativo presente nel titolo come sintomo di una quest che sim- bolicamente chiude il volume aprendosi all’opportunità di nuove letture critiche. Convenzioni e stereotipi, gelosia e frustrazione, passato e presente si mi- scelano nel giusto equilibrio con rigore accademico e cognizione di causa nel- le pagine di questo volume, che me ne ha riportati alla mente altri che negli ul- timi anni del secolo scorso hanno profondamente segnato la mia crescita pro- fessionale – da Voci e silenzi: la re-visione al femminile nella poesia di lingua in- glese a cura di Vita Fortunati e Gabriella Morisco (1993) a Passaggi: letterature comparate al femminile a cura di Liana Borghi (1998) e En travesti: figurazio- ni del femminile nella letteratura inglese di Ornella De Zordo (1999) – accan- to ai quali questo volume trova uno spazio naturale, apportando nuove idee e prospettive, forse meno radicali che in passato (per esempio, includendo uno sguardo maschile), ma ugualmente lucide, colte e appassionate. Se dovessi trovare per forza una mancanza in questo volume, che riten- go comunque straordinario sotto tutti i punti di vista, direi che avrebbe potu- to (dovuto?) trovarvi spazio anche una piccola sezione sul lato “oscuro” dell’a- more, cioè su quella lunga teoria di equivoci, fraintendimenti, mascheramenti che nel corso della storia hanno fatto passare per amore ciò che in realtà amo- re non era, e che sono ampiamente documentati nei racconti di matrimoni for- zati, rapimenti, reclusione, accusa di pazzia, abuso e violenza fisica e psicolo- gica tra le mura domestiche, insomma tutto ciò che oggi va sotto il brutto (ma giustificato) nome di femmicidio, e che la Letteratura, di fatto, ha registrato da sempre. In realtà casi come quelli sopra citati spuntano frequentemente qua e là nei saggi, ma senza essere problematizzati più di tanto. Credo tuttavia che la scelta effettuata, cioè di mettere in secondo piano ciò che, appunto, amore non è, sia stata in realtà quella giusta: per far capire al lettore e alla lettrice fino a che punto si possa usare la parola amore, nella vita come nella Letteratura; e oltre quale punto, invece, non la si possa (debba) più usare. Alessandra Calanchi Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 84 Un vertiginoso excursus sul “secolo americano” luca giaNNelli, neW York conFidentiAl. AvAnguArdiA, modernità e intellettuAli in AmericA, dAllA scuolA di chicAgo AllA pop Art, circolo prouDhoN historica eDizioNi, 2014, pp. 271. prefazioNe Di steNio soliNas. Questo libro è esattamente quello che non è un testo accademico di tipo spe- cialistico. Non perché gli manchi il rigore scientifico, per carità: ma per la sua appassionata ricerca di una all inclusiveness che ne tradisce subito la (non)ap- partenenza. Difatti Luca Giannelli non è un americanista d.o.c.g., bensì un ar- chitetto che di professione fa il giornalista; per l’esattezza, è nientemeno che il caporedattore al TG de La7. E il suo libro (fin dal titolo) è organizzato come un intrigante dossier: cosicché noi lettori, già nelle prime pagine – anzi, fin dal- la copertina, in cui ci inseriamo giocoforza unendo il nostro sguardo a quello dei passanti che osservano il Guggenheim, ripresi di spalle – siamo sollecitati a curiosare tra le mille informazioni da cui verremo travolti, sempre più convin- ti che valga la pena proseguire la lettura, sempre più consapevoli di avere tra le mani un prezioso puzzle della modernità americana e desiderosi di posseder- ne, alla fine, un quadro non solo completo, ma coerente. Il progetto, diciamolo pure, è ambizioso e deliziosamente naif al tempo stesso. Stipare in meno di 250 pagine (il resto è un’ottima bibliografia; pecca- to manchi un indice dei nomi) tutto ciò che promette il sottotitolo sarebbe già di per sé una bella impresa; ma a Giannelli non basta ancora. E lo capiamo già dal risvolto di copertina, da quella prima riga truffaldina che parla di Ham- mett (purtroppo con lo spelling sbagliato: si chiamava Dashiell, non Dashell, ma è un refuso di cui di certo non è responsabile l’autore) e della nota meta- fora del vaso di cristallo. Lo capiamo anche dalla quarta di copertina, che pre- senta una serie di “indizi” che assomigliano a un quiz di letteratura o cultura anglo americana: una scelta davvero intelligente, rivolta sia agli specialisti, ai quali il “quiz” risulta facile ma intrigante, sia agli absolute beiginners, sicura- mente attratti dall’opportunità di imparare tutto sugli USA in modo divertente e, appunto, anti-accademico. Anche la Prefazione di Stenio Solinas (altro giornalista) parte da una cap- tatio benevolentiae a cui non posso restare indifferente: si apre infatti con un doveroso omaggio all’antologia Americana curata d Elio Vittorini nel lontano 1941, e in particolare all’Introduzione di Emilio Cecchi, elogiata per aver col- to, già alla metà del secolo scorso, l’egemonia culturale degli USA. Quello che Solinas non dice, vuoi per dimenticanza, vuoi per scelta, è che in realtà a quel tempo leggere autori americani significava non tanto accettare una sudditanza di tipo coloniale (o meglio, non ancora), quanto “respirare” una cultura “altra” Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 85 dribblando la censura fascista e il paraocchi nazionalista; provare a diventare internazionali, insomma. Così come non coglie, a mio avviso, un altro punto fondamentale della cultura americana: non sono convinta, come lui asserisce, che “l’imperialismo americano … non deriva da un disegno”; al contrario, cre- do che il “disegno” ci sia e abbia radici molto antiche, che affondano nel cove- nant dei Padri Pellegrini e nel moral duty dei Padri Fondatori, nell’immagine della city upon the hill (che, contrariamente a quanto pensa Giannelli, ha ben poco a che vedere con “quel suo paradossale surrogato che è il suburbio”) e nella teoria del Destino Manifesto. Ma, naturalmente, posso sbagliarmi. Il libro di Giannelli, come scrive giustamente Solinas, è costruito su un gioco di rimandi tra architettura, arte, cinematografia e – aggiungo io – lettera- tura. È un volume denso e strutturato, come avverte Giannelli nella Premessa, come un film: anzi, come un film americano, o ancor meglio, come un western o un poliziesco (altrove, Giannelli utilizza un po’ impropriamente i termini giallo e noir come sinonimi, ma lo perdoniamo) “ambientato nella wilderness metropolitana di New York”. Un film con tantissimi personaggi, “tutti colpe- voli e innocenti, tutti diversamente Americani”; un film al quale manca, però, il tipico Hollywood ending, il lieto fine: non perché la fine sia drammatica, ma perché il finale è aperto, ovvero la storia, logicamente, non può concludersi. E si scusa coi lettori per la sua “pretesa di guardare alle cose americane con occhi europei”, una colpa di cui in realtà non ha a mio avviso alcun bisogno di scu- sarsi, visto che ha illustri precedenti sia nel campo della critica sia, per conti- nuare la metafora, nel campo del cinema – basti pensare che alcuni tra i miglio- ri film sull’America li hanno fatti registi stranieri: vedasi Fritz Lang (Metrop- olis), Michelangelo Antonioni (Zabriskie Point), Wim Wenders (Paris, Texas, The Million Dollar Hotel, Land of Plenty), Sam Mendes (American Beauty). Ma arriviamo ai contenuti veri e propri. Sempre partendo da metafo- re (nel primo capitolo, quella del Mount Rushmore dà l’avvio “cinematogra- fico” – tramite Hitchcok, naturalmente – al discorso sul Canone della moder- nità american), Giannelli inizia il suo excursus con due numi tutelari: Jackson Pollock e Frank Lloyd Wright. Padre dell’astrattismo il primo, dell’architettu- ra organica il secondo, ben rappresentano nella loro diversità l’arte america- na moderna da cui prenderà poi forma “un articolato pantheon da esportazio- ne” – Duchamp, l’action painting, la pop art, la fotografia, Rothko e Hopper – e che si muoverà prevalentemente in senso contrario a quello della Frontiera ottocentesca descritta da F.J. Turner, ovvero da Ovest verso Est. Sarà un’arte sempre più rivolta alle masse, che dialogherà col cinema e inseguirà i gusti del pubblico, e che influenzerà anche l’Italia in due modi: da un lato, sollecitan- do critiche agli aspetti orribili della società dei consumi da parte dell’ “intelli- ghentsia seriosa che in Italia ha gestito le faccende culturali praticamente fino all’inizio degli anni Ottanta” (su questo punto mi permetterei, in altra sede, di Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 86 avanzare qualche obiezione) o viceversa accettandoli in nome dell’anticomuni- smo e della “libertà democratica” (mi perdoni Giannelli: io avrei detto “pseu- do-democrazia liberista”). Tessendo paragoni fra Emerson e Thoreau (ieri) e Oliver Stone e Michael Moore (oggi), e inframmezzando Pearl Harbor a Obama, la Partisan Review a Midnight Cowboy, la formula “Art for Art’s Sake” alla Fiera di New York del 1939 “Building the World of Tomorrow”, il Boston Tea Party e il vaudeville, “The American Sex Revolution” e la Guerra di Mondi, Giannelli percorre in modo acrobatico, erudito, accattivante, argutamente interdi sciplinare non solo la storia dei movimenti artistici, ma tutta la storia americana, il suo cinema, la sua narrativa, il suo pensiero critico, che mostra di conoscere a menadito. E pa- re quasi soffrire di una sorta di horror vacui della scrittura, per cui ogni pagina è una mappa del tesoro da leggere e rileggere più volte, una miniera da cui estrar- re – ai vari livelli – informazioni, suggestioni, riflessioni. Rivelando grande mae- stria, la sua oratoria si muove su due e più binari: da un lato dando informazio- ni precise (impariamo per esempio che Wright compare tra i “filocomunisti” du- rante il maccartismo), dall’altro ponendo domande (“chi è, infine, Andy Warhol? Il campione della ‘simulazione autentica’, il ‘genio del marketing’, l’ ‘artista filo- sofo’ … o invece il realista innocente …?”), e ancora cercando di definire chi sia l’“Americano puro” e cosa sia la bellezza, e ancora dedicando spazio alle donne (Georgia O’Keeffe, Mary Cassat, Gertrude Vanderbilt Whitney e Juliana Force, ecc.), e ancora citando le scoperte freudiane e le teorie di Gurdjeff, e altro ancora. Insomma. Un libro intenso, ricco, documentato, che vale senz’altro la pe- na leggere perché ci apre una finestra sul mondo dell’arte e al contempo la fa dialogare con tutti gli altri aspetti della società americana e ci fa riflettere an- che sul nostro presente. Alessandra Calanchi Il piccolo cerchio aNNa KathariNe greeN, lo studio circolAre, Neropress eDizoNi, roMa, 2014, pp. 274. Gironzolando all’ultimo Salone del Libro di Torino mi sono imbattuto in un poliziesco dalla copertina rigorosamente gialla e dal disegno accattivante: The Circular Study di Anna Katharine Green, pubblicato e tradotto di recente an- che in Italia con il fedelissimo titolo di Lo Studio Circolare. Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 87 Anna Katharine Green (1846-1935), per chi non lo sapesse, è stata una poetessa e prolifica giallista americana, con una quarantina di libri all’attivo, nonché “amica di penna” del filosofo Ralph Waldo Emerson. La cosa che sor- prende di più, però, è che questa donna, rimasta nell’oblio maschilista per molti anni – poiché esordì come scrittrice in un’epoca in cui nessuna donna veniva accettata come scrittrice tout-court, né tantomeno come scrittrice di ro- manzi polizieschi, territorio squisitamente virile – ha diversi punti di contat- to con un più celebre e acclamato collega d’oltreoceano: Arthur Conan Doyle. Vediamo quali sono. In primo luogo, così come accaduto al medico scozzese, la Green si av- venturò nella crime fiction in seguito a un fallimento: non le era infatti riuscito di affermarsi come poetessa. Con un po’ di ardimento ci si potrebbe doman- dare se la sua delusione non fosse la stessa che Conan Doyle avrebbe prova- to qualche anno più tardi nel vedere il suo ambulatorio perennemente vuoto e senza l’ombra di un paziente. Sì, ho detto qualche anno più tardi, perché il pri- mo romanzo della trilogia che vede protagonista un’inedita coppia investigatri- ce formata da un uomo e una donna, il detective Gryce – un Lestrade alla so- glia della pensione e con molta meno spocchia – e la magnifica dilettante Ame- lia Butterworth, The Leavenworth Case, è del 1878, anno in cui Watson termi- na gli studi per poi andare in Afghanistan; ma Conan Doyle pubblicherà il suo primo romanzo, A Study in Scarlet, solo nel 1887. Amelia Butterworth è una simpatica zitella, un’arguta vecchietta che an- ticipa i tratti di una Miss Marple meno convinta di se stessa. Quando uscì, The Leavenworth Case riscosse un buon successo di pubblico e critica, ma lo stes- so non si può dire per l’autrice, perché nessuno credeva che una donna potes- se aver scritto una storia così misteriosamente perfetta, e tutti pensavano che Anna Katharine Green fosse soltanto un George Sand al contrario, un nome de plume dietro cui si celava una diabolica mente maschile. La capacità di osser- vazione di Miss Butterworth le è in seguito valsa il titolo di “the female rival of Sherlock Holmes”, quando Sherlock Holmes è stato rivelato al mondo. Ame- lia Butterworth è certamente la prima donna detective nella storia della narra- tiva poliziesca, e ha una mente all’altezza di quella del fumatore di Baker Stre- et. Una specie di Irene Adler nella terza età e senza quella malia da femme fa- tal così fuorviante. Se Edgar Allan Poe è stato giustamente definito “il padre del racconto poliziesco”, Anna Katharine Green ne è certamente la madre e, Wilkie Collins permettendo, s’inserisce tra Poe e Conan Doyle come il trait d’union tra l’inventore e il fecondatore del genere. Venendo a The Circular Study, al lettore sherlockiano più attento non possono sfuggire diverse analogie con A Study in Scarlet. Il romanzo della Gre- en, terzo e ultimo della trilogia, fu pubblicato nel 1900, dopo A Study in Scarlet e The Sign of the Four, e sembra averne riverberato gli echi narrativi, sia per la Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 88 struttura suddivisa in due parti o “libri” sia per i temi trattati: vendette e anti- chi rancori mai sopiti. Se in A Study in Scarlet l’antefatto si svolge tra i mormo- ni dello Utah nel 1876, in The Circular Study l’antefatto ha luogo tra i quacche- ri della Pennsylvania poco dopo la fine della guerra di secessione; se in A Stu- dy in Scarlet il movente del delitto è passionale e vuol vendicare un matrimo- nio “che non s’aveva da fare”, in The Circular Study l’odio attraversa il tempo per vendicare un matrimonio “che s’aveva da fare” e mai venne fatto; se nel ro- manzo di Doyle Jefferson Hope, l’assassino, viaggia dagli Stati Uniti fino all’In- ghilterra per punire il colpevole impunito, Enoch J. Drebber, nel romanzo di Green il vendicatore designato compie il percorso inverso, dall’Europa verso l’America. Fin qui le somiglianze. Ma ciò che sorprende il lettore non sherlockia- no sono perlopiù le differenze rispetto a Conan Doyle, e qui Green dimostra di essere abile e originalissima narratrice. Tanto per cominciare, “uno studio” diventa “lo studio”, e non uno studio qualsiasi, ma un “microcosmo perfet- to” dalla forma circolare: nulla, infatti, può essere più perfetto di un cerchio, la forma divina per eccellenza, così come appare in un’illustrazione biblica di William Blake. E in fondo, lo studio circolare è il mondo creato da Felix Adams già Cadwalader, un uomo che si sente Dio in quella sua bizzarra stan- zetta, arredata con le “tante belle cose di cattivissimo gusto” e dove la luce na- turale penetra a stento da due finestre nascoste alla vista; non c’è più un solo colore, il colore scarlatto di Lauriston Gardens, ma tanti colori che si danno il cambio: non più una sola prospettiva, ma tante prospettive, e uno spaesamen- to originato da una modernità che invade l’antico. Non siamo nell’ottocentesca periferia di Londra, ma in un elegante quartiere di New York, con le automo- bili che passano accanto alle carrozze, il telefono che rimpiazza, ove possibi- le, i telegrammi, e la corrente elettrica fa la sua comparsa nelle case dei ricchi; in questo caso, è una corrente elettrica che Adams ha diabolica mente piegato alle sue fantasie, costruendosi un complicato marchingegno che regola l’emis- sione della luce multicolore di un faretto, una “diavoleria”, stando alle parole di Gryce, che in seguito si scoprirà essere un “codice” che serve ad Adams per impartire istruzioni al maggiordomo – ebbene sì, l’immancabile maggiordomo di ogni giallo angloamericano – che è sordomuto e che, assistendo poi al delit- to, cerca di mimarlo alla polizia con una pantomima dagli effetti tragicomici. Il tutto condito dalla presenza di un pappagallo che continua a ripetere, alter- nandoli, due nomi di donna: “Evelyn…Eva!”. Vendetta tremenda vendetta, abbiamo detto. Tremenda sì, ma un’altra vendetta, non quella che si sarebbe dovuta consumare. A differenza di quanto accade in A Study in Scarlet, nel romanzo di Green la vendetta non si compie, o meglio, si ritorce contro uno dei vendicatori. Si potrebbe parlare di una trinità blasfema: il padre, Amos Cadwalader, emigrato scozzese che sul letto di mor- Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 89 te giura odio eterno e vendetta verso John Pointdexter, un vecchio amico (pro- prio come lo erano Ferrier e Drebber nel romanzo di Conan Doyle), divenu- to acerrimo nemico dopo aver concupito e disonorato sua figlia Evelyn, mor- ta di tubercolosi; il figlio, Felix, che per volontà del padre cambia cognome da Cadwalader in Adams, e che dovrà essere l’architetto terreno della vendetta; e poi lo spirito santo, Thomas Adams, giovanotto di bei modi e di bell’aspetto cresciuto a Parigi, colto e raffinato, da usare come Don Giovanni per colpire Pointdexter biblicamente: non ucciderlo, ma farlo morire dentro, disonoran- do sua figlia Eva, che è nata lo stesso giorno di Evelyn, anche se molti anni do- po. Occhio per occhio, dente per dente. L’immaginario biblico e religioso per- vade tutta la storia e i nomi dei protagonisti ne sono la conferma: Amos, uno degli antichi profeti; Eva, non una donna, ma la prima donna; Thomas, ovve- ro Tommaso, quell’apostolo che avrebbe creduto solo quando avrebbe messo il dito nella piaga. E Thomas Adams è un San Tommaso post litteram, un apo- stolo profano che non crede finché non vede: gli viene infatti detto che Eva, la donna sulla quale dovrà abbattersi, per suo amoroso tramite, la vendetta dei Cadwalader, è bruttissima; ma quando invece la vede scopre che è bellissima e se ne innamora perdutamente, dimenti candosi la sua missione. Un altro leitmotiv della storia è il tema del doppio. The Circular Study, ol- tre a essere un classico “locked room mystery”, è anche un gioco di specchi tra un’identità e l’altra: il pappagallo che bercia “Eva” ed “Evelyn” (ripetendo, ov- viamente, ciò che ha sentito ripetere da Felix Adams) è in realtà una “spia” del- la sovrapposizione iconica e concettuale tra le due fanciulle della storia: al di là dell’assonante vicinanza tra i due nomi, Eva-Evelyn, c’è un’impressio nante somiglianza fisica tra le due giovani donne, somiglianza fisica che diviene co- munanza di spiriti allorché Thomas incontra per la prima volta Eva quando lei va a depositare dei fiori sulla tomba di Evelyn. Stessa faccia, stessa anima. Ma il doppio non si esaurisce con il gioco Evelyn-Eva, diluendosi nell’opposizio- ne tra padre naturale e padre adottivo: Amos Cadwalader e John Pointdexter sono rispettivamente il padre naturale e il padre adottivo di Evelyn, Felix e Thomas, poiché Amos, non potendoli mantenere, li aveva fatti crescere da Pointdexter, che non aveva prole. E quando Thomas, anziché far morire di cre- pacuore Eva, la sposa contro la volontà testamentale del padre e del fratello maggiore, è colpevole d’incesto, perché sposa la figlia del suo padre adottivo. Ma Green sa osare, non ha troppo pudore, e getta anche Felix nei tor- menti amorosi: anche lui, infatti, s’innamora di Eva Pointdexter, ed è questo che compromette per sempre la vendetta dei Cadwalader. I sentimenti contra- stanti, nella seconda parte del romanzo, sono narrati secondo uno schema epi- stolare con il quale si evidenzia il contrasto tra ciò che Thomas pensa e ciò che invece scrive al fratello maggiore, e in seguito tra ciò che Thomas ed Eva pen- sano di Felix e ciò che Felix pensa di Eva. Recensioni Linguæ & – 1/2015 http://www.ledonline.it/linguae/ 90 Anna Katherine Green sa mescolare gli “elementi maschili” dei detta- gli polizieschi (lo studio circolare che si sigilla ermeticamente con una lastra di metallo, i “cinque piccoli lustrini” che consentono di identificare Eva e che stanno a metà strada tra i “cinque semi d’arancio” di Conan Doyle e i “dieci piccoli indiani” di Agatha Christie) con l’elemento femminile dell’amore. Love is a woman. In questo caso, non una donna, ma “la donna”, the woman, Eva, la prima donna creata da Dio. Felix Adams (Adamo translitterato) s’innamora di Eva. Lui, che non ha mai amato una donna in vita sua. Un po’ come il no- stro Sherlock s’invaghisce inaspettatamente di Irene Adler, the woman. In en- trambi i casi innamoramenti fatali: sconfitta investigativa per Sherlock Holmes e morte per Felix Adams, ucciso per mano della stessa Eva, rea confessa alla fi- ne del libro primo del romanzo. Il mistero non è dunque solo nel chi, ma anche nel perché e nel come. Eros e Thanatos. Amore e morte nell’inquietante studio- lo dalla luce cangiante. The Circular Study è anche una mise en abyme, un titolo che tematizza il racconto. La struttura narrativa è circolare: la storia si apre infatti nello stu- dio circolare e poi, dopo le peripezie attraverso il tempo e lo spazio, ritorna al- lo studio circolare per il grande e tragico finale: un aut aut tra morte e disono- re, un po’ come il gioco delle due pillole in A Study in Scarlet. Io la definirei un “piccolo cerchio” che fa pendant con il grande cerchio di William Blake in God as an Architect; un piccolo cerchio che non ha un punto tracciato prima degli altri, ma che passa e ripassa tra Green e Conan Doyle; un piccolo cerchio fini- to che vuol essere uno dei tanti piccoli cerchi finiti che riempiono il grande cer- chio infinito della letteratura. In quanto alla traduzione, pur con qualche inciampo e alcune frasi un po’ appesantite e farraginose – forse per via di una volontà traduttiva source-orien- ted, oltremodo rispettosa delle strutture sintattiche di un testo scritto in ingle- se ottocentesco – si può dire che è abbastanza scorrevole e più che accettabile. Luca Sartori 
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work_t3wotzy4mzeshpwj4d7okokssm	----	Senses of Echo Lake: Michael Palmer, Stanley Cavell, and the Moods of an American Philosophical Tradition humanities Article Senses of Echo Lake: Michael Palmer, Stanley Cavell, and the Moods of an American Philosophical Tradition Richard Deming Department of English, Yale University, New Haven, CT 06520, USA; richard.deming@yale.edu Received: 11 April 2019; Accepted: 15 May 2019; Published: 19 May 2019 ���������� ������� Abstract: This essay explores a philosophical tradition that Stanley Cavell has traced out and which he emphasizes as being American inasmuch as it is arises out of the thinking of Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau. It then investigates how the poems of the avant-garde poet Michael Palmer link with, overlap with, this strain of American philosophy in terms of how it enacts an understanding of what we might call “philosophical mood,” on outlook based on the navigation of representation, generative self-consciousness, and doubt that amounts to a form of epistemology. The essay does not trace the influence—direct or otherwise of Cavell and his arguments for philosophy on the poems, despite a biographical connection between Cavell and Palmer, his former student. Instead it brings out the way that one might fruitfully locate Palmer’s work within an American literary/philosophical continuum. The article shows how that context opens up the work to a range of important existential and ethical implications. I endeavor to show that Notes for Echo Lake, Palmer’s most important collection, locates itself, its language, within such a frame so as to provide a place for readerly encounters with the limitations of language. These encounters then are presented as an opportunity for a deeper understanding of subjectivity and for attuning oneself to the role that active reading and interpretation might play in moral perfectionism. Keywords: Ethics; Stanley Cavell; Michael Palmer; poetry; American philosophy; Ralph Waldo Emerson; poetics; language poetry; moral perfectionism These days, we may be beyond a pro forma gesture justifying or rationalizing why it is that we might bring the weight of philosophy and its concerns to bear on the practice of reading poetry. In poetry, from the German, British, and American Romantics forward to the Modernists, and in philosophy, from Hegel to Heidegger to Simon Critchley, the models that give us precedent for locating the interdisciplinary dialogues of poetry and philosophy are legion. With this in mind, although it may be a generalization, it is not too much a claim to begin to say that poetry and philosophy, whatever else they might be, are both enactments of a preoccupation with how the mind fashions an ordering of the world by which one can come to perceive a life—one’s own life, the lives of others—lived among particularities. Poets and philosophers who go beyond boundaries of discourse in order to engage the parallel nature of these approaches seek ultimately to get at the foundations upon which these preoccupations rest. This is not to say all poetry and all philosophy can be brought productively into dialogue with one another, of course. Nonetheless, bringing philosophy to bear on the reading of certain poets seems unavoidable for a variety of reasons—from the methodological to the thematic. In fact, in the case of discussing the work of Michael Palmer, one of the most influential avant-garde poets of the past fifty years, philosophy and philosophers are referenced commonly enough in the poems themselves (quite often through epigraphs and other tropes and devices) that the possibilities for philosophical interventions are perhaps more than a valuable approach for engaging the work; they Humanities 2019, 8, 98; doi:10.3390/h8020098 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com http://www.mdpi.com/2076-0787/8/2/98?type=check_update&version=1 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/h8020098 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Humanities 2019, 8, 98 2 of 12 are quite explicitly evoked. Palmer does, after all, open the first poem included in Notes for Echo Lake, one of the most important collections of poetry published in the 1980s, a book that interrogates the very nature of the connection between language and subjectivity, with an epigraph from Bruno Schulz’s Street of Crocodiles that insists “An outlook based upon philosophy became obligatory.”1 At the very least, this proclamation suggests the epistemological conditions with which the poems establish themselves. I want to consider this claim seriously in terms of what it means for Palmer’s poetics, however, and I want to think of “outlook” and “obligation” as keywords because he places the epigraph so prominently at the beginning of the collection’s first poem.2 Very often Palmer’s work is read in terms of its formal complexity and how it reworks lyric tradition. However, this epigraph announces the poem’s desire to be taken as a form of thinking that by its very nature acknowledges the literary text as a contact point between subjectivities—where one being’s understanding of the limits of language encounters another’s. It is a claim that the poems themselves must reckon with, even as it articulates the perspective from which the poems speak. What is an outlook based on philosophy? How does that shape perception? Also, what makes this obligatory? To what or to whom is one obliged? If Palmer’s epigraph announces the collection’s investment in philosophy, it becomes important to know what tradition of philosophy it may be drawing upon in order to construct its perspective. “Outlook” and “obligation” are two words that both resonate with a particular philosophical inheritance that Stanley Cavell traced out over the course of his career insofar as “an outlook based upon philosophy” describes what we might otherwise call a philosophical mood, and such a mood is at the center of Cavell’s particular interest in Ralph Waldo Emerson, whom he takes to be a philosopher of moods (Cavell 1977). An outlook is one’s subjectivity traveling outwards and projecting itself onto everything, falling upon anywhere one’s gaze alights. We could read the word outlook nearly literally as suggesting that one’s vision moves outward. As Emerson writes in “Experience,” “Thus inevitably does the universe wear our color, and every object fall successively into the subject itself. The subject exists, the subject enlarges; all things sooner or later fall into place.”3 In this way, “outlook” informs not only a writing practice that is the transposing of an experience of the world back into language, but a reading practice as well. In looking at writing, in the act of reading—if what we mean by reading is an attention coupled with active interpretation—we are then discovering our own subjectivity by means of encountering and grappling with someone else’s attempts at articulating their own subjective experience. That experience of the ethics of reading is at the heart of Emerson’s thinking and is the battery for any tradition that begins with him. Cavell emphasizes such an inheritance as being American inasmuch as it is Emersonian, with the term itself not signifying any specifically nationalistic bearing. For Cavell, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau stand as the initiating figures for what it might mean to write philosophy in a mode that recognizes its debt to the past while simultaneously seeking to locate its authority in something besides a mere fealty to prior modes of thinking and their modes. What makes this American is simply—though not merely—the conditions that made such a question possible. Standing in the still early days of its existence, America needed to distinguish American thought and culture from Europe as well as from past intellectual traditions so as to be responsive to the “newness” of America and to its specific conditions.4 America was birthed from revolution, and this sense of the sovereignty of the individual and a need to question imposed authority—to push against any authority 1 (Palmer 1981) The line is taken from Schulz’s story, “The Comet.” (Schulz 1977). 2 Schulz’s sentence is originally written in Polish, and it would make sense for one to be reluctant to put weight on the words in their translated version, yet since Palmer uses the English version without having in mind the Polish, we are free to think about the implications of the words in English. 3 “Experience,” p. 489. For the sake of convenience, all citations of Emerson are to be found in (Emerson 1983). 4 Of course, it hardly needs to be said that there were people living in North America when it was colonized and that there was a diversity of cultures present that were not Eurocentric. Still, The United States became a political entity in the 1770s, and that overwhelmed what was already present. To distinguish a country as a distinct nation is one thing, to determine its culture is another, especially as culture is one way a people shows itself to itself. Emerson’s call was for thinkers, scholars, artists, and writers to produce a culture by which America could represent itself to itself, as well as to others. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 3 of 12 that had not earned consent—is a necessary part of how it understands itself philosophically, and how it comes to understand what philosophy might contribute to culture. As Emerson writes in “The American Scholar,” “Our day of dependence, our long apprenticeship to the learning of other lands, draws to a close. The millions, that around us are rushing into life, cannot always be fed on the sere remains of foreign harvests” (Emerson 1983, p. 53). With that in mind, “American“ in this context is not a descriptor of nationality so much as it identifies an originating condition calling for creative (as opposed to reactionary) thinking that actively distinguishes itself from the past by (1) not simply adhering to an ideological system that valorizes the past and tradition; and (2) investing in the belief that philosophical truths are not fixed, but remain in the process of being discovered (as Emerson writes, “the quality of the imagination is to flow, and not to freeze”) (Emerson 1983, p. 463). These aspects can, then, be broadly available, regardless of one’s location or nationality.5 Emerson focused on the intrinsic genius of every person as the source of legitimate insight into the qualities of Being itself. He writes in the deservedly famous opening to “Self-Reliance”: A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this. (Emerson 1983, p. 259) It is a bold statement to say that a work of art’s greatness is measured by how it facilitates a consciousness of our own alienated thoughts. Moreover, the thoughts are both familiar, as they are our own, as well as strange, since we encounter them in another’s context. Literally, the “great work of art” brings us to think again (to re-cognize) the very thoughts that we have exiled from ourselves. Art then is an aid for perceiving the movement of our own insights. The writing in essays by Emerson and by Thoreau—in its artfulness, in its idiosyncrasies—is a form of philosophy that seeks, therefore, to determine an expansive and expanding vocabulary for philosophy drawn from one’s own experience rather than merely depending on redeployed, familiar habits of thought that conform to received conventions of discourse. Paradoxically, it eschews the objective—a framework which Emerson takes to be an illusion, if not a delusion—in order to find the universal. From this perspective, Cavell might describe Emerson’s writing as not just a form of philosophy but as a reform of the possibilities of philosophy, of how we might imagine philosophy could act and sound. In his being essayistic, impressionistic, and in his literary attention to style as evincing thought, Emerson undertakes a kind of writing that is attuned to its very processes of thinking and expression. In the very ways that Emerson and, by extension, Thoreau break with the conventions of philosophical writing—at least the conventions of academic, professional philosophical writing—they enact philosophical thinking. This resistance to conventions is what Emerson calls “self-reliance” and what Cavell will describe as Emerson’s “aversive thinking.” In its resistance to the demands of society for conformity of expression, Cavell argues, Emerson’s writing expresses his self-consciousness, his thinking as an imperative to an incessant conversion or reconfiguration of society’s incessant demands for his consent—his conforming himself—to its doings; and at the same time to mean that his writing must accordingly be the object of aversion to society’s consciousness, to what it might read in him.6 In “The American Scholar,” Emerson insists that to gain a consciousness of self and subjectivity, and in that way lay claim to such things, to assert responsibility for our own agency, we must first forgo an unquestioning dependency on past knowledge (“the sere remains”) as that breeds repetition rather than creation, fosters reiteration rather than imagination. Instead, writes Emerson, 5 The fullest account of Cavell’s thinking of this can be found in his essay “Finding as Founding” in (Stanley Cavell 1981). 6 “Aversive Thinking: Emersonian Representations in Heidegger and Nietzsche,” (Cavell 1990). Humanities 2019, 8, 98 4 of 12 Whatever talents may be, if the man create not, the pure efflux of the Deity is not his; cinders and smoke there may be, but not yet flame. There are creative manners, there are creative actions, and creative words; manners, actions, words, that is, indicative of no custom or authority, but springing spontaneous from the mind’s own sense of good and fair. (Emerson 1983, p. 58) Cavell reads such insistences “to create” as a call to stop turning away from one’s own inspiration, away from one’s own intuition, in order to discover or recover one’s relationship to the ordinary and the everyday, “something which for Emerson,” writes Cavell, “is the same matter of salvation in the intellectual life as it is in the religious life” (Cavell 1977, p. 148). Experience, Emerson argues, then becomes the arbiter for what it means to know. “So much only of life as I know by experience,” Emerson writes, and then adds that experience “is the raw material out of which the intellect molds her splendid products. A strange process too, this by which experience is converted into thought, as a mulberry-leaf is converted into satin” (Emerson 1983, p. 60). That is, the stuff of one’s life is the grounds, the conditions for philosophy to take root. Ultimately, I would argue, this describes an “outlook of philosophy” that is “obligatory” to the extent that it we have an obligation to ourselves to know ourselves. With this context in place, I want to look at the possibility that Palmer’s poems link with, and overlap with, American philosophy—at least the kind found within a Cavellian key—regarding its interest in what we might otherwise call “mood” or “outlook.” In saying this, however, I am not citing influence—direct or otherwise—of a certain strain of philosophy on the poems, but will bring out the way that we might read and locate Palmer’s work within an American literary/philosophical continuum and indicate how reading the work within that context matters in regards to how that opens up the work to a range of important existential and experiential implications by suggesting that subjectivity—even one’s own—is a text ever being written and ever being read. Such a move has a great deal to do with what it means to say that an outlook based on philosophy has become obligatory and what that has to do with poetry. My placing Cavell and Palmer in conversation is not happenstance.7 Beyond their shared elective affinities, Palmer was at one time Cavell’s student. Within the context of this forum on literature and ethics, it is most likely not necessary to introduce Stanley Cavell, a contemporary philosopher whose importance and influence has continued to deepen over the last two decades; it is, however, useful to give some context for Palmer. Born in New York City in 1943, Palmer was educated at Harvard and Columbia. The author of numerous books of poetry including Codes Appearing: Poems 1979–1988 (2001); The Promises of Glass (2000); The Lion Bridge: Selected Poems 1972–1995 (1998); At Passages (1996); and Sun (1988), Palmer is undoubtedly one of the most important experimental poets of his generation with Notes for Echo Lake, published in 1981, being one of his most influential collections. Although critics often place Palmer alongside the Language poets of the 1970s and 80s, a group of experimental writers including Charles Bernstein, Bruce Andrews, Lyn Hejinian, and Ron Silliman (just to name a few), who often drew on elements of Russian formalism and Marxism to create a form of counter-lyric poetry. Although linked to these writers due to social connections, particularly in San Francisco, one of the hubs of radical poetics in the U. S., Palmer is perhaps more accurately described as an inheritor of the poetics of the New American poets of the 1950s and 1960s, such as Robert Duncan, Robert Creeley, and George Oppen. Throughout his career, Palmer has been less invested in the polemics 7 It is important to note that Palmer is not the only poet whose work has been shaped by an encounter with Cavell’s philosophy. Poets from John Hollander to Susan Howe and Ann Lauterbach have acknowledged their interest in how Cavell’s philosophical interventions have been generative in terms of thinking about language and the ways that it describes the possibilities for an ethics of reading. Charles Bernstein has frequently acknowledged Cavell as his mentor, their close relationship having begun with Bernstein’s own undergraduate days at Harvard in the 1970s. It is well beyond the scope of this essay, but there does seem to be a need for a sustained investigation into the ways that Cavell’s thinking—directly and indirectly—has impacted American poetry over the last few decades. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 5 of 12 of Marxist literary theory than other Language writers have been, and he rarely treats poetry as the means of opening up the possibilities of ideological critique in the ways that such contemporaries as Bruce Andrews or Ron Silliman might. Palmer himself will cite Duncan and Creeley as direct mentors and acknowledges his presence at the 1963 Poetry Vancouver Conference, a landmark gathering of such figures as Charles Olson, Creeley, Allen Ginsberg, Denise Levertov and others of what would be called New American Poetry as a pivotal moment for him in terms of his exposure to the possibilities of a radical poetics that remained committed to aesthetic experience.8 In an interview in 2006, Palmer described the arc of his work as, moving a little bit away from radical syntax into the mysteries of ordinary language, in the philosophical if not every day sense. It probably looks less unusual on the page. And I’ve been interested in the infinite, ingathering potential of the lyrical phrase—not confession, but the voicing of selves that make up the poetic self, from Greek lyrics to the Italians, to modern poets like Mandelstam. (Bullock 2006) Arguably, however, Palmer’s sense of the lyric as being primarily the representation of subjectivity finding itself through language is consistent throughout his career and is what differentiates him from many of the Language writers who sought instead to decolonize language and “denaturalize” conceptions of poetic voice and authenticity by laying bear the mechanisms of ideology that are encoded within traditions of the lyric. Although he shares with other Language poets an interest in disjunction, fragmentation, and formal complexity, the underlying impulses are quite distinct.9 This interest in the “mysteries of ordinary language” is one of the ideas that ties Palmer to Cavell, a foremost figure in Ordinary language philosophy. In 1965, Cavell served as one of the readers for Palmer’s senior project at Harvard College, a long paper analyzing the work of the proto-surrealist French author Raymond Roussel. In many ways, Palmer ’s early association with Cavell was pragmatic and somewhat ad hoc: Harvard at that time had the policy that faculty could choose, from a pool, which undergraduate projects they could and would be willing to advise. In effect, Cavell was late to choose and took on Palmer ’s project by default. That initial relationship between Cavell and Palmer was more a practical arrangement than the product of ongoing tutelage or mentoring. Indeed, although Palmer had occasionally joined the philosophy tables Cavell ran in those days, he never actually contributed, preferring to be what these days we would call a “lurker.” That is to say, until the senior project, the two had never actually had a substantive conversation. After working together on the senior project, a friendship did take root and Palmer would be a regular reader of Cavell’s work as it began appearing in the 1970s and onward. Although the connection between this particular philosophical poet and this poetic philosopher is almost definitively anecdotal, it does provide an interesting entry point, if not justification, for thinking about the ways that Palmer ’s poetry, specifically Notes for Echo Lake, might be read through the lens of Cavell’s work on the intersection of language and ethics that starts appearing in 1970 and becomes so crucial in the 1980s. The connection between Palmer’s Notes for Echo Lake and Cavell’s philosophical work of the time is especially compelling if we also consider that Notes for Echo Lake came out the same year (1981) and with the same press (North Point) that published the expanded version of the seminal Senses of Walden, Cavell’s philosophical reading of Henry David Thoreau. Cavell first wrote Senses of Walden in 1970, just a few years after he had worked with Palmer at Harvard. The reprinted version appeared with the addition of two important essays about Ralph Waldo Emerson and the book is Cavell’s first sustained attempt at discovering through these two 19th century writers the ways that America began to express 8 “New American Poetry” is a loose descriptor that is shaped by the Donald Allen anthology of that name published in 1963, a collection that sought to establish a context for various strains of post-war avant-garde poetry in the U.S. 9 Of course, Language poetry was not a monolithic school or movement so much as it was a network of elective affinities, and so any number of exceptions and counterexamples can be offered in describing what might constitute the basic constellation of poetics that held these figures together in conversation. It is Palmer’s interest in expanding notions of lyric subjectivity rather than the dismantling of it that sets him apart. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 6 of 12 itself philosophically in a mode that was distinct from a European body of thought that stretched back centuries.10 There is also another perhaps less obvious triangulation between Thoreau’s Walden and Notes for Echo Lake in terms of narrative sequencing in the way that Palmer collapses a longer period of time into a single year, just as Thoreau had done in his own book. In a talk from 1982, Palmer states, “At some point in working on Notes for Echo Lake I realized that the ‘notes’ themselves should number twelve and that the larger period, so-to-speak, of the book would be a year, an entirely metaphoric year since the book is drawn from work extending over about three years.”11 This time of relative seclusion as the condition for writing a book is not limited to Palmer and Thoreau. Cavell wrote both Senses of Walden and The World Viewed, his landmark study of film as a form of philosophy, during a year he spent as a fellow at Wesleyan University’s Humanities Center, withdrawing from Cambridge, MA, to the somewhat quieter village of Middletown, CT. In essence, Cavell had no commitments that year and worked all day at a kitchen table, free from the usual distractions of teaching and departmental toiling. Let us call these moments of overlapping biographical resemblances resonances, or perhaps echoes, occurring between Thoreau, Emerson, Cavell, and Palmer. Yet, these texts signal a shared sense of how a specific place becomes generative in terms of its serving as a meditative space, which in part establishes the conditions for a philosophical outlook that takes on an ethical dimension. “A writer in meditation is literally a human being awaiting expression,” Cavell notes in his reflection on Thoreau’s withdrawal to Walden, the pond itself, and that author’s withdrawal into Walden, the text he is writing (Cavell 1977, p. 59). In “Notes for Echo Lake 3,” Palmer, commenting on a kind of silence from a “he” who remains undefined, writes, “In silence he would mark time listening for whispered words” (Palmer 1981, p. 17). The “he” perhaps remains unnamed and undefined—a pronoun in search of a noun—because he is listening. The formation of an identity comes after that, when the listening is turned outward and becomes expression. As Emerson writes in “The Poet,” “The man is only half himself, the other half is his expression” (Emerson 1983, p. 448). Palmer complicates this conception of subjectivity even further, “And I as it is, I as the one but less than one in it” (Palmer 1981, p. 15). The words of one’s experience, whispered from the interior, are what await expression, and the articulation of that experience, by such means made available to others, is a way that one manifests one’s subjectivity. The idea that we must express to come to some sort of wholeness is compelling, and we might come to wonder about how that expression might be received. As Thoreau writes in Walden, “I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men’s lives; some such account as he would send to his kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a distant land to me” (Thoreau 1992). The acknowledgement of one’s own subjectivity becomes the means by which others—by comparison and through contrast—can come to recognize their own. With that, however, comes the risk of not being heard. A “Sign that empties itself at each instance of meaning, and how else to reinvent attention,” writes Palmer in “Notes for Echo Lake 1” (Palmer 1981, p. 5). Is it the emptying out of one’s self—the expression—that creates the possibilities for one’s own attention to others? Or is it that the emptied sign calls for another’s attention? The untethered referent “he” of Palmer’s line, “In silence he would mark time listening for whispered words” is not the only challenge in reading the work. The poems of Notes for Echo Lake are often largely comprised of paratactic statements, fragmented sentences, and free-floating aphorisms. Take this passage from “Notes for Echo Lake 3” as representative: 10 In the preface to Senses of Walden, Cavell will explain that in turning to Thoreau he hoped to find a moment before the radical split between the English and German traditions of philosophy “began to shun one another” so as to find the means to “reenact an old exchange between these traditions,” p. xiv. 11 “Period [senses of duration],” in (Palmer 1983). Humanities 2019, 8, 98 7 of 12 The letters of the words of our legs and arms. What he had seen or thought he’d seen, within the eye, voices overheard rising and falling. And if each conversation has no end, then composition is a placing beside or with and is endless, broken threads of cloud driven from the west of the afternoon wind.12 In some ways, this passage is recognizable in regards to its vocabulary—the words themselves are common enough—yet in grammatical terms, the words don’t easily knit together to indicate the expected sequencing of either an argument or a developing narrative. Nevertheless, it feels meaningful, perhaps because of that fact of its being between straightforward legibility and obscurity. Such a situation demands interpretation, and we begin by interrogating the language itself—that is, how the words mean. This is true not only of texts, but of life, yet a it is a poem whose very existence, pace Modernism, is predicated on the belief that activating the polysemous nature of language is a necessary condition for representing the world’s complexity of meaning. Called to such effort, “[when] the mind is braced by labor and invention,” writes Emerson, “the page of whatever book we read becomes luminous with manifold allusion. Every sentence is doubly significant, and the sense of our author is as broad as the world” (Emerson 1983, p. 59). In “Notes for Echo Lake 11,” Palmer writes in a variation on Emerson’s theme, “Words listen to the words until you hear them,” which itself is a way of describing the self-conscious process of interpreting, as we use our understanding of words as the means of trying and sounding the depths of the words whose meanings are unknown though the words themselves be familiar. Without the guidance of a clarifying or determining apparatus of a larger narrative to offer context, within the sentences we start to see the poem commenting on itself. Turning to the passage from Palmer that I cited earlier, we might begin, say, in reading “the letters of the words of our legs and arms” by noting that legs and arms are part of our body language and their position communicates desire or fear or openness or distrust—or all these at once. “Eye” is a homophone with “I,” which is where our acts of perception take place. Conversations are not necessarily composed; they occur and develop and so do not have a proper ending. In the end of Palmer’s prose poem, we find a single sentence: “In the poem he learns to turn and turn, and prose always seems a sentence long” (Palmer 1981, p. 17). The line plays with the notion of verse and also “conversation,” indicating their shared etymology in the Latin word for “to turn.” That is, “if no conversation has an end,” it too will continue to turn and turn. The line itself being itself a sentence, points back to itself, precisely because of the fact that although it looks like prose, it does not behave like prose. The self-reflexivity does not necessarily lead to an endless loop, but rather gets us to think about the very nuances of the word and how we determine the meaningfulness of their conversation. This process never ends if we never come to certainty but keeps turning and turning. Cavell might see this as a manifestation of an Emersonian moral perfectionism.13 That is, since we never reach an end, there is an openness that remains open. Such openness remains important if legibility and interpretation is counted as part of how we determine the nature of the world and our relationship to it. In Palmer’s “The Comet,” the opening poem of Notes for Echo Lake, the world is represented as a textual space to be read: “That year the end of winter stood under a sign. All days were red in the margin/ writ large against the ochre rooftops . . . .” (Palmer 1981, p. 1). In the homophonic slippage of “red” the color and “read” as the past tense of “to read,” Palmer also calls to mind the ways that, conventionally, textual corrections are made in the margins with red ink while at the same time that pun foregrounds the word as a signifier—the lexical “a,” a visible but unheard difference, that might set us up for a misreading, substituting “red” for “read.” Which sounding of the word is the mistake and which is the correction? In a later poem in the collection, Palmer offers a sentence that is in the form of a question but does not actually end with 12 (Palmer 1981, p. 12) Cavell offers an interesting discussion of “being next to” or neighboring or “nextness” in regards to one’s sense of nature, landscape (neighbors), and ourselves when we grow self-conscious in (Cavell 1977, pp. 104–10). 13 The fullest discussion of Cavell’s understanding of Emersonian moral perfectionism is to be found in Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome, beginning with the extensive introduction. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 8 of 12 a question mark: “Or was the question in the letters themselves, in how by chance the words were spelled.” Palmer seems to be underlining the arbitrary nature of the structure of words and what the telling difference comes to when small differences are brought to the fore. It has a skeptical force: “how do I know which red (or read) you mean”? Arguably, it is because of the ever-present uncertainty of communication and incomplete expression built out of language that never escapes inexactitude that the impetus for conversation continues and never really ends. Earlier I was suggesting that the meditative space of Echo Lake or Walden, or perhaps Middletown, CT, are places that are important for the ways that they create meditation from which flows expression. I say that place is important, and yet Notes for Echo Lake begins with an epigraph from Augustine that troubles that claim: “Place there is none; we go forward and backward, and there is no place” (Palmer 1981, n. p.). Might that be an argument against the specificity of place? It is hard to read it in any other way. Yet in the context of Augustine’s confessions, these lines indicate that there is no outside, no division of one place from another place, except subjectively. Or as we see in the first poem, a prose poem, of Palmer’s “Echo Lake” series, “If one lives in it. ‘Local’ and ‘specific’ and so on finally seeming much less interesting than the particular wherever that may locate” (Palmer 1981, p. 4). We note that “particular” in being particular also always reminds us of its being part of something larger. By extension, this applies to one’s subjectivity in regards to its situation. “I am dependent on everything,” says the speaker of Palmer’s “Notes for Echo Lake 11” and if we are reading the poems as being also a meditation on writing, then this is not simply an expression of the self but is also a description of grammatical construction (Palmer 1981, p. 69). In other words, the personal pronoun, that which is named by “I” is such, as such, only in relationship to the things and people around it. As Cavell writes, “language is everywhere we find ourselves,” which I take to mean that we find ourselves, the selves that we are, in language through language. This brings again to mind, “Words listen to the words until you hear them.” Allow me to linger a bit more over Palmer ’s quoting Augustine since it raises the question of what debt the epigraph creates between where it is cited (Palmer ’s book of poems) and the source text. How much, for instance, of a transcendental sentiment or tendency is imported with those lines and then grafted onto the poems that follow? Or perhaps we might ask this another way: Is Palmer’s book of poems then a form of spiritual meditation, a genre both signaled and activated by its opening citation, which is drawn from just such a text? If Notes for Echo Lake is indeed such a meditation, and the citation seeks to place it within that tradition, then what follows that epigraph—that is to say, the poems themselves—offers a different version of what one means when one says “spirit” as well as meditation, a form of inquiry that is not religious, yet no less deeply felt. The same can be said of Walden. Inasmuch as Augustine’s confessions move between philosophy, theology, and biography—between rhetoric and narrative—so too do Palmer ’s poems, through this engagement with relationships based on, built out of language—which is to say all relationships. I raise the possibility of the poems being a form of meditation because the problem of the epigraph and the relationship between texts remain connected to the idea of how a poet inherits a tradition, crafts a genealogy—how he or she wishes to be heard and to whom he or she is addressing such acts of language. These issues have other implications as well, because the unsettled space between poetry and argument-based claims might be a space for a certain kind of philosophy, or at least what we might call “thinking,” and even the emphasis that the poems are “notes” suggests that the work acknowledges at every moment that it is writing, that the notes are the mechanisms of language that point to their incompleteness. Being caught between those modes of the philosophical and the literary might call for an “outlook based on philosophy.” When I say that these are modes, I do not merely mean they are forms of writing, but rather are the kinds of thinking that attend, that are enacted through the writing itself. In this way, Palmer’s work is not a form of philosophy, but it is an activity of language that by way of its difficulties acknowledges that philosophy and ethics underwrite all interpretive processes. The poems share with Emerson a certain resistance to conformity that requires the reader fall back on his/her/their Humanities 2019, 8, 98 9 of 12 own experiences with words and how they mean in order to find some shared sense of language, some glimpse into what we do and do not share as common experience. So what are we to make of (make out of) the thinking of Notes for Echo Lake? From the beginning, we see a title that indicates that there is a form of address (the notes are intended for, addressed to Echo Lake). Or is it best to read the work as something else if we take the other meaning of “notes”? I also take this as the first step in seeing the poems as being about the act of writing, the attempt to bring experience back into language, and therefore to make language itself an experience of itself. Behind the title, we might hear Wittgenstein’s description of Philosophical Investigations as “sketches of landscapes” (Landschaftskizzen).14 That is, we would take it that the poems are notes, drafts, sketches that point towards representation, and specifically the representation of something coming to be, an expression of futurity—as if to say the poems are notes that will represent what is to come, in this case, a “new yet unapproachable” Echo Lake.15 Both readings of the title are possible. In the first place, the poems then are the address that pushes back to the origin of the words, lines, and sentences. The address, in other words, reveals the addresser’s sense of language and ethics—the sense of how to approach the addressee in language is enacted by, expressed by the language and the particulars of its use. Address creates a relationship and the language reveals the architecture, the poetics—the ebb and flow of ethical responses, the shuttling of perceived debts and obligations between the addresser and the addressee. “Who did he talk to/Did she trust what she saw/Who does the talking/Whose words formed awkward curves,” Palmer ’s propositional, interrogative lines both ask and posit in “Notes for Echo Lake 4” (Palmer 1981, p. 22). In this case, the complex syntax at work in Palmer’s poems reveals that the addressee is not easily described as a “voice” or a “speaker,” if we are to imagine those tropes conjured by these terms as stable, consistent, and continuous figures. But why is it we would be apt to assume that a “voice”—any voice—is that consistent, that stable? We might say that the speaker is not the origin of a word—that is, a word’s meaning does not derive specifically or at least not wholly from the person saying it. Rather, the voice provides a location, a context for the words. It arranges without defining, or that definition is never settled as it comes to test the terms of its arrangement at each moment. In his essay “Autobiography, Memory and Mechanisms of Concealment,” Palmer includes a long discussion of Augustine, and offers the reading that insists, “Augustine investigates both the subject-object relationship in discourse and the structural relationships that constitute the linguistic sign in order to reveal what he is doing, to confess the nature of his activity” (Palmer 2008). In other words, with other words, according to Palmer, Augustine’s self-interrogation confesses that all language is mediated. Yes, one wants to say, but what is part of that mediation? What necessitates negotiation and interrogation, self or otherwise? This is the question of whether or not we can communicate that revelation to the Other. “The relationship between signifier and signified must be reconstituted at each moment of the act of telling, in a constant state of uncertainty,” writes Palmer.16 That state of uncertainty is what we might call skepticism. If we need to constantly restate and rediscover how our words mean, then we always have to find the means and conditions for what we say so that others might hear or acknowledge what we have to say. I have not forgotten that my rationale for wanting to place Palmer’s work in dialogue with Cavell arises not simply because of some personal history they shared or because I necessarily want to foreground some regional element of these poems by Palmer, a poet who is usually read in a consciously—even self-consciously—cosmopolitan and international context. My emphasis on that 14 Wittgenstein calls his remarks “eine Menge von Landschaftskizzen” [“a set of landscape-sketches”] in the preface of his book. (Wittgenstein 2001). 15 I am alluding to both Cavell’s book This New Yet Unapproachable America as well as a passage from Emerson’s essay “Experience”: “I feel a new heart beating with the love of the new beauty. I am ready to die out of nature, and be born again into this new yet unapproachable America I have found in the West.” (Emerson 1983, p. 485). 16 Ibid., p. 276. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 10 of 12 element of “America” that is “American thought” is shot through with a double need of determining the ground by which one makes claims (for others or for ourselves) and of doubting the grounds for those claims at the same time. Cavell describes the situation this way: Any American writer, any American, is apt to respond to [America’s declaring its independence] in one way or another; to the knowledge that America exists only in its discovery and its discovery was always an accident; and to the obsession with freedom, and with building new structures and forming new human beings with new minds to inhabit them; and to the presentiment that this unparalleled opportunity has been lost forever. (Cavell 1977, pp. 8–9) He will go on to say that Thoreau’s writing—and by the extension all American writers of the tradition I have been sketching out—“must admit this pressure and at every moment resolutely withstand it,” adding further that it “must live, if it can, pressed between history and heaven.” With “admit” we see Cavell saying that the pressure must be allowed into the work, but also that pressure must be confessed. Thus, the state of uncertainty that Palmer describes in Augustine, that he clearly enacts in the ambivalences of the syntax of Notes for Echo Lake (with “Words that come in smoke and go,” Palmer says in “Notes for Echo Lake 3”), may also amount to the pathos that Cavell describes as something inherent in American philosophy that comes to us from Emerson and Thoreau and then gets absorbed and redistributed back through Nietzsche and Heidegger, among others (Palmer 1981, p. 17). Although Palmer himself may again and again invoke European thinkers and philosophers—just as Thoreau or Emerson do as well—he does so to create his notes for Echo Lake, the poems that will add up to an experience of (but not be reducible to) a specific place in America, as if to indicate that Echo Lake still is left unfounded even if we know where to find it. This need to discover where one is—“Where do we find ourselves?” Emerson asks at the beginning of his essay “Experience”—suggests that we can never simply be where we are, since to name it is to begin to place ourselves outside of the experience. This also seems to be evoked in the reference to Augustine. Now that I have highlighted the problems of language and identity that Palmer wrestles with in his poems, let me place the conversation in another frame that has to do with skepticism. I turn to Cavell’s essay “Finding as Founding,” one of his most crucial readings of Emerson, for a passage that seems to echo the claims of Palmer’s I cited just a moment ago. Cavell writes, The feeling as if we have to penetrate phenomena is evidently produced by a feeling of some barrier to or resistance in phenomena (as if the conditions of a thing’s appearance were limitations in approaching it; as if skepticism accurately registered the world’s withdrawal from us, say it’s shrinking) as if language has difficulty in reaching phenomena, let alone grasping them. (Stanley Cavell 1981, p. 88) Cavell is responding to a moment in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations: “we feel as if we had to penetrate phenomena.”17 This acknowledgment of language’s difficulty is threaded through Notes for Echo Lake and is in part enacted by the ways that the poem’s language is at times so difficult to understand. In a passage that seems colored by Cavell’s comments, Palmer writes in the poem “Seven Lines of Equal Length”: The simple past has weight but where are the fountains you spoke of 17 (Wittgenstein 2001, p. e36.) Cavell is using Anscombe’s translation, which translates “Erscheinungen” as “phenomena”. It also can be translated as “appearances,” which seems relevant given the references to eyes and eyesight throughout Notes for Echo Lake. Furthermore, in this section, Wittgenstein himself cites Augustine: “Thus Augustine calls to mind the different statements that are made about the duration, past, present, or future, of events. (These are of course not philosophical statements about time, the past, the present, and the future.)”. Humanities 2019, 8, 98 11 of 12 she wonders in perfect innocence and the flowering trees and what is the word that stands for these things he asks her between the branches. (Palmer 1981, p. 43.) That compulsion to use language to get beyond language is what we might call a will to know, though in reality, through our efforts, we draw near not the phenomena themselves but the kinds of statements we make about phenomena. The compulsion to name a thing exactly—and we feel it often enough in moments of great pleasure, joy, grief, and horror—might be a Romantic one, granted, but it would be a problem insofar as it is inadequate and unsatisfying, to halt just there, to stop in stupefaction, gobsmacked, as it were. There is a further step one can take in the face of the compulsion, the endlessly frustrated will to know, the awe that this is a version of skepticism. For instance, this is how Emerson describes this sense of a prevailing somewhat unanswerable skepticism around language: “I know that the world I converse with in the city and in the farms, is not the world I think. I observe that difference, and shall observe it. One day, I shall know the value and law of this discrepance” (Emerson 1983, pp. 491–92). We see here a sense of that next step. Emerson does not drive towards resolving the discrepancy between word and thing, language and experience, but towards knowing the value of that gap and what the endless deferral offers us, which is at last a reason to keep trying. In the self-reflexivity and self-consciousness of Palmer’s poems, we see reflected the conditions by which poetry both offers a possibility—what we might call hope—of connection and address to the Other even while it exposes to doubt that same possibility that we can ever reach the Other. With that doubt in mind, we can see Palmer’s participation in that “reformation of philosophy” that Cavell describes. It does not stand outside of that struggle but manifests it. One limitation of philosophical discourse is that in its insistence on its own logicality, it seeks to be objectivity. Palmer’s poetry does not describe the obligation of a philosophical outlook, but establishes the conditions by which we note ourselves seeking out a way of understanding our own frustrations with language, what causes these frustrations, and how we might navigate them. I almost hesitate, though I suppose that is itself a hesitation, to say that what we hold in common is that doubt. This might be, then, what philosophy can learn from poetry. That which holds us apart is what binds us fast. It seems that this connection built on shared distance has something to do with the obligation of having an outlook based on philosophy. As I posited it earlier, to what and to whom are we obligated? Ourselves? Others? In essence, then, if we often ask how philosophy flows into poetry, we might just as well ask how poetry and literature flow into philosophy? Poetry, particularly Palmer’s, does not offer an argument or a consistent worldview, but it does enact the difficulties of interpretation that happen at the most local and specific level. Rather than ignoring or overlooking skepticism and the failures of expression, poetry foregrounds these conditions as the very medium of daily life and poetry’s difficulties are amplified versions of the problems that are shot through the language we use to represent everyday life to others as well as to ourselves. We return, then, to the obligation of a “philosophical outlook,” which Palmer’s book positions as a call for acknowledging how we attune ourselves to the demands of language. Within the frame of such an essay, I should perhaps offer, given the compactness of the context, something specific, a clear, portable, reading; however, I am arriving at perhaps even more questions, certainly more ambitious questions than I began with. To a certain degree, that seems most apt, given that Palmer’s poems are themselves “notes.” Call this a reader’s notes, then: noting what I read, reading how I note. At the outset of Senses of Walden, Cavell asks, “what hope is there in a book about a book”? (Cavell 1977, p. xiii.). His question is related to seeing how one philosophical text is prompted by another, and that, largely, is something I see having happened in Notes for Echo Lake—it is a book of prompted articulations and prompting provocations in its deployments of fragments and aphorisms; it is a book of poems about writing and reading in the largest sense, that is, the negotiating of the Humanities 2019, 8, 98 12 of 12 ways that we negotiate meaning. What Cavell’s philosophy tells us about language is parallel to what Palmer’s poetry tells us about language: words are an unsettledness that seeks to ground itself in experience. In the processes of discovering our acts of interpretation, the warp and hew of how we read, in fits and spurts, it is not simply the words, but how we hang them together with a kind of hope of drawing the attention of the Other through what is recognizable as well as what is opaque that creates a conversation about how we recognize the Other or how, imperfectly, we recognize ourselves through the Other—through that which returns via an echo of our soundings, or what Emerson states as the fact that “In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty. Great works of art have no more affecting lesson for us than this.” We recognize ourselves by way of that unfamiliarity, that intimate strangeness. Notes for Echo Lake locates itself, its language, the same way we might be called to read it in a series of echoes and locations. What we read is the proximity and distance of texts and words. The poems provide a place for our encounters with our limitations of language as readers, as language workers, a space built from our continued hope against that impossibility of knowing and saying exactly, in persisting against that again-and-again face of failure that measures the shape and sound of what it means to be human at this time and in this place. Funding: This research received no external funding. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Bullock, Ken. 2006. Arts: Michael Palmer and Douglas Blazek Read at Moe’s. The Berkeley Daily Planet, April 7. Available online: http://www.berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2006-04-07/article/23854 (accessed on 18 May 2019). Cavell, Stanley. 1977. The Senses of Walden: An Expanded Edition. San Francisco: North Point Press, p. 151. Stanley Cavell. 1981. This New Yet Unapproachable America. Albuquerque: Living Batch Press. Cavell, Stanley. 1990. Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome. Chicago: Univerist of Chicago Press, p. 37. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1983. Essays and Lectures. Edited by Joel Porte. New York: Library of America. Palmer, Michael. 1981. Notes for Echo Lake. San Francisco: North Point Press, p. 1. Palmer, Michael, ed. 1983. Code of Signals: Recent Writings on Poetics. Berkley: North Atlantic Books, p. 262. Palmer, Michael. 2008. Active Boundaries: Selected Essays and Talks. New York: New Directions, p. 276. Schulz, Bruno. 1977. The Street of Crocodiles. Translated by Celina Wieniewska. New York: Penguin, p. 143. Thoreau, Henry David. 1992. Walden and Other Writings. Edited by Brooks Atkinson. New York: Modern Library, p. 3. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 2001. Philosophical Investigations, 3rd ed. Translated by G. E. M. Anscombe. With the German Text. London: Blackwell. © 2019 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://www.berkeleydailyplanet.com/issue/2006-04-07/article/23854 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. References 
work_t5e6ypaukbbyni7sgvm2keojou	----	of April 5, 2021. This information is current as 2001 −In Memoriam: G. Jeanette Thorbecke 1929 Susan Zolla-Pazner Vincent K. Tsiagbe, Richard Coico, Nicholas M. Ponzio and http://www.jimmunol.org/content/168/8/3695 doi: 10.4049/jimmunol.168.8.3695 2002; 168:3695-3696; ;J Immunol average* 4 weeks from acceptance to publicationFast Publication! • Every submission reviewed by practicing scientistsNo Triage! • from submission to initial decisionRapid Reviews! 30 days* • Submit online. ?The JIWhy Subscription http://jimmunol.org/subscription is online at: The Journal of ImmunologyInformation about subscribing to Permissions http://www.aai.org/About/Publications/JI/copyright.html Submit copyright permission requests at: Email Alerts http://jimmunol.org/alerts Receive free email-alerts when new articles cite this article. Sign up at: Print ISSN: 0022-1767 Online ISSN: 1550-6606. Immunologists All rights reserved. Copyright © 2002 by The American Association of 1451 Rockville Pike, Suite 650, Rockville, MD 20852 The American Association of Immunologists, Inc., is published twice each month byThe Journal of Immunology by guest on A pril 5, 2021 http://w w w .jim m unol.org/ D ow nloaded from by guest on A pril 5, 2021 http://w w w .jim m unol.org/ D ow nloaded from http://www.jimmunol.org/cgi/adclick/?ad=55734&adclick=true&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwelcome.cytekbio.com%2Faai-auroracs http://www.jimmunol.org/content/168/8/3695 https://ji.msubmit.net http://jimmunol.org/subscription http://www.aai.org/About/Publications/JI/copyright.html http://jimmunol.org/alerts http://www.jimmunol.org/ http://www.jimmunol.org/ In Memoriam G. Jeanette Thorbecke 1929 –2001 To laugh often and much. To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children. To earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends. To appreciate beauty; To see the best in others. To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch, or a redeemed social condition. To know when one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded. Ralph Waldo Emerson In early November 2001, G. Jeanette Thorbecke, M.D., Ph.D., and Professor of Pathology at the New York University School of Medicine, traveled to Hawaii at the invitation of the Society for Leukocyte Biology to receive the 2001 Marie T. Bonazinga Award at the Cytokine Odyssey 2001 meeting. Following the meeting, Dr. Thorbecke, a lover of the sea, went swimming in the Pacific and was stung by jellyfish, resulting in complications from which she died unexpectedly on November 16, 2001 at the age of 72. This ended a career marked by more than five decades of contributions and achievements in the biological sciences. Dr. Thorbecke received her medical and graduate education in The Netherlands at the University of Groningen. Her doctoral dis- sertation involved a study of in vitro antibody and gamma globulin formation in hematopoietic organs. She spent two years as a post- doctoral fellow at the Lobund Institute for Germfree Animals at the University of Notre Dame (Notre Dame, IN), and then returned to Holland as an assistant in the Department of Pathology at the University of Leiden. Dr. Thorbecke came to the United States again in 1957, joining the faculty of the New York University (NYU) School of Medicine in the Department of Pathology. By 1970, she had achieved the rank of Full Professor. She remained at NYU School of Medicine throughout her career. Dr. Thorbecke was an outstanding and internationally renowned scientist, who made numerous and significant discoveries that had enormous impact on our understanding of immunological mecha- nisms. She authored or co-authored over 430 research articles in leading scientific journals. Her scientific contributions were di- verse, but with a principal focus in areas of tumor immunology, B cell development and function, autoimmunity, aging, immunosup- pression, and tolerance induction. Dr. Thorbecke contributed immensely to the early knowledge on histologic and functional aspects of lymphoid tissue development, and her work illuminated the relationship of germinal center for- mation to the development of immunological memory. Her early studies mapped the migratory journey of activated B cells and showed that the maximal development of the germinal centers co- incided with the peak of antibody formation on days 4 –5 after initial intravenous injection of antigen, and that, when animals previously primed with antigen were challenged with the same antigen, the antibody-secreting immature plasma cell foci devel- oped more rapidly and contained more cells. Dr. Thorbecke’s interest in normal germinal centers led to over 30 years of research into their abnormal counterparts. She used the SJL/J mouse strain to study the development of spontaneous reticulum cell sar- comas, which closely resemble Hodgkin’s disease in humans. The de- pendence of SJL lymphomas on host CD4� cells for their growth, me- diated by the presentation of tumor cell antigens to CD4� cells, led to the birth of the concept of “reverse immune surveillance”. In this model, the host response against the tumor cells promotes rather than inhibits tumor growth. The responding syngeneic CD4� T cells produce copious amounts of cytokines, including IL-2, IL-4, IL-5, and IFN-�, some of which support lymphoma growth. It took two decades of work before a breakthrough was made in identifying the stimulating antigen on the SJL lymphoma cells: a viral superantigen, vSAg29, which is encoded by mouse mammary tumor virus Mtv29. Considering that the human genome is laden with endogenous retroviral sequences, Dr. Thorbecke’s work provides a model for continuing study of the role of retroviral se- quences in human lymphoma development. Another of Dr. Thorbecke’s primary interests evolved during the 1970s when the existence and physiologic role of IgD was beingde- fined. She and her colleagues showed that in vivo depletion of IgD- positive lymphocytes had no significant impact on the ability of mice to generate T-dependent or T-independent antibody responses, but that production of certain Ig isotypes was increased. They concluded that compensatory mechanisms exist that allow the animal to make a normal immune response. These findings were elaborated on in additional reports demonstrating the functional effects of anti- IgD treatment on B cell development and showing that indirect mechanisms were involved. Further studies revealed immuno- regulatory mechanisms in which IgD played an important role. Thus, in studies of the mouse model of myeloma, it was shown that mice bearing IgD myelomas had significantly enhanced antibody responses, in contrast with mice bearing myelomas Copyright © 2002 by The American Association of Immunologists 0022-1767/02/$02.00 by guest on A pril 5, 2021 http://w w w .jim m unol.org/ D ow nloaded from http://www.jimmunol.org/ that produced other Ig classes. This phenomenon was not ob- served in athymic mice leading to the discovery that IgD im- mune enhancement was T cell mediated and could be trans- ferred to naive mice using T cells exposed to oligomeric IgD. Dr. Thorbecke’s curiosity, scientific instincts and playfulness were well displayed in her response to this discovery. In discussing the new findings with Dr. Benjamin Pernis, Dr. Thorbecke made a bet that the Th cells would be the mediator of the phenomenon; Dr. Pernis bet on suppressor T cells. Dr. Thorbecke won the bet (a bottle of wine), which she shared with Dr. Pernis and the rest of the lab when they showed that murine Th cells express the IgD receptors involved in this phenomenon. In 1988, Dr. Thorbecke’s pivotal work provided insight into the possible physiological significance of IgD receptors when it was dem- onstrated that B cells with cross-linked IgD could up-regulate IgD receptors on Th cells. This finding suggested that Dr. Thorbecke’s earlier in vivo studies showing indirect augmentation of certain Ig isotypes following anti-IgD treatment appeared to involve T cell in- duction of IgD receptors. Connecting the findings obtained with anti- IgD treatment and IgD treatment was both personally satisfying and professionally useful; Dr. Thorbecke conveyed her enthusiasm with the results by reminding those in her lab to “Always celebrate the little things in life— don’t wait for the big things.” More studies on this phenomenon followed. Her lab discovered that IgD receptors could be released as soluble molecules, were up-regulated by T cell activation signals including cytokines and various intracellular second-messenger systems where tyrosine kinase activity is required, and that they bind to N-linked glycans associated with Fd and Fc regions of IgD. Further studies followed, showing that, unlike mouse CD4� T cells, human IgD receptors could be up-regulated on both CD4� and CD8� cell subsets, but that in both mice and humans, there was deficient ex- pression of IgD receptors in T cells from aged individuals. With the advent of IgD-knockout mice, Dr. Thorbecke’s early find- ings on the compensatory mechanisms in the absence of IgD-positive cells were unequivocally confirmed. These findings stimulated new questions, and Dr. Klaus Rajewsky agreed to supply Dr. Thorbecke with the mice. This brought to the fore, in a confrontation with the U.S. Customs Department, one of Dr. Thorbecke’s key characteris- tics: her impatience with incompetence. The U.S. Customs Depart- ment refused to allow entry of the knockout mice into the U.S. be- cause of their erroneous concerns about potential infectious diseases carried by the mice, “such as anthrax”. It required three shipments of mice, the careful tutelage by Dr. Thorbecke of her fellows in dealing with incompetent bureaucrats, and three trips to Customs at JFK In- ternational Airport to finally acquire the mice. With much celebration in the lab, the IgD knockout mice were received and used to show that enhancement of antibody responses by T cells with up-regulated IgD receptors depends upon the availability of IgD-expressing B cells. Jeanette Thorbecke’s interests extended to several other areas of immunology: the production of autoanti-idiotype antibodies during the normal immune response and the changes in idiotype repertoire with aging, carcinogen-induced fibrosarcomas in chickens and their relationship to delayed-type hypersensitivity, Langerhans cells as representatives of the accessory cell system, and their distinc- tion from interdigitating cells and lymphoid dendritic cells, the involvement of TNF-� and TGF-� in the induction of arthritis, the modes of tolerance to arthritis induced by type II collagen, the mechanism by which TGF-� protects against experimental allergic encephalomyelitis, and the use of antigen-specific TGF-�1 transduced Th1 cells in gene therapy for experimental allergic encephalomyelitis and allergen-induced hyperactivity. Dr. Thorbecke was a member of the Dutch and British Societies of Immunology, the American Association of Immunologists, as well as numerous other scientific societies. She served these organizations in many capacities. She was extremely active in promoting the candi- dacy of Dr. Marian Koshland as the first woman president of the American Association of Immunologists, and Dr. Thorbecke, herself, became the second woman president of the American Association of Immunologists (1989 –90). She served on numerous scientific advi- sory boards at the national and international levels for governments, for voluntary health foundations, and for industry. Dr. Thorbecke received numerous honors and awards during her distinguished career in science. She was the recipient of a Research Career Development Award from the Health Research Council of the City of New York, and was elected as a correspondent of the Royal Dutch Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1980. Her native country honored her with the prestigious van Loghem Award, which not only recognized her accomplishments as an outstanding scientist, but also as a person with vision for the future. In 1989, Dr. Thorbecke received the Outstanding Woman Scientist Award from the American Women in Science organization, and in 1999 she received the Rose Hirschler Award in Dermatology for her work on Langerhans cells. Most re- cently, she was nominated for the Chugai Award for Excellence in Mentoring and Scholarship from the American Society for Investiga- tive Pathology, and, as mentioned above, she had just received the Marie T. Bonazinga Award before her untimely death. In addition to her achievements in science, Dr. Thorbecke was a wife, mother, friend, and mentor. She shared many scientific pursuits with her husband, Dr. Gerald Hochwald, a noted neurobiologist and fellow NYU faculty member with whom she raised three handsome and talented sons, Bert, Neal, and Steve, who now pursue their own careers in science and medicine. Dr. Thorbecke’s extended “scientific family” includes over 60 scientists who either performed their doc- toral studies under her tutelage, or selected her laboratory in which to do postgraduate research. Many went on to achieve positions of lead- ership in academe and industry in a variety of areas in Immunology. All were instilled with the Thorbecke enthusiasm for scientific inquiry and high standards for excellence. Her devotion to her students and fellows was legendary. She understood the importance of guiding young people entering the field, and was known to demand uninter- rupted time with students interviewing for admission to the graduate pro- gram so that she could be sure she understood their motivation and had correctly assessed their intelligence so that she could judge their abilities and advise them at the very beginning of their graduate careers. Beyond all of her scientific achievements, what also made Jeanette Thorbecke so outstanding was her awareness, concern, and involve- ment with people. All who worked with her are quick to comment on her superb character— one of a caring and concerned mentor, col- league, and friend. She had endless energy, infectious enthusiasm, and uncanny insight. In the words of a former trainee, “She leads by splen- did, and exhausting, example, demanding nothing of those who work with her that is much a fraction of what she demands of herself.” Dr. Thorbecke was fond of art and music, and was quite well known for her choreographic abilities on the dance floor and for her passion for painting. She combined her enthusiasm for the arts with her science at every opportunity. “In all great people I have met,” said Ralph Waldo Emerson, “I notice directness, truth spoken more truly, as if everything of obstruction, of malformation, had been trained away. For it is not what talents or genius a person has, but how he is to his talents, that constitutes friendship and character.” Jeanette Thorbecke exemplified these qualities. Vincent K. Tsiagbe Richard Coico Nicholas M. Ponzio Susan Zolla-Pazner 3696 IN MEMORIAM by guest on A pril 5, 2021 http://w w w .jim m unol.org/ D ow nloaded from http://www.jimmunol.org/ 
work_t5t5b45nejd3zbhcldbyz4qzsa	----	Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 59 Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Homam Altabaa 1,* , and Adham Hamawiya 1 1 Department of Fundamental and Inter-Disciplinary Studies, Kulliyyah of Islamic Revealed Knowledge and Human Sciences, International Islamic University Malaysia, 50728 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia * Corresponding Author: drhomam@iium.edu.my; htabaa@gmail.com ARTICLE INFO ABSTRACT Publication Info: Literature Review How to cite: Altabaa, H., & Hamawiya, A. (2019). Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context. Society, 7(2), 59-70. DOI : 10.33019/society.v7i2.85 Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society This is an open access article. License: Attribution- NonCommercial-ShareAlike (CC BY-NC-SA) Received: July 25, 2019; Accepted: November 17, 2019; Published: December 3, 2019; Émigré writers such as Kahlil Gibran and Mikhail Naimy proved that it is possible to transcend their historical limitations to become leading literary figures. An examination of the historical context of these writers is important for a rich understanding of their works. The themes addressed in such literary works are better appreciated within their cultural environment, and not as objects detached from their times, author and readers1. It can be rightfully argued that such works cannot be fully appreciated without delving into the intricacies of the political ideologies and economic crises of previous centuries. This article does not aim to perform such an undertaking, regardless of its literary merit; however, it presents an overview of the historical context surrounding the Émigré literary movement as a product of two cultures bridged by immigration at the turn of the 20th century. This is based on the belief that a profound critical engagement with Émigré works is better achieved with an examination of their historical and literary background. Thus, this article serves as a foundation for profound literary analyses of Émigré works. Keywords: Culture and Creativity; Émigré writers; Émigré Literature; Kahlil Gibran; Literary History 1 Payne, 2005: 3-4, on the importance of a historical context. Society, 7 (2), 59-70, 2019 P-ISSN: 2338-6932 | E-ISSN: 2597-4874 https://society.fisip.ubb.ac.id https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 mailto:drhomam@iium.edu.my mailto:htabaa@gmail.com https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://society.fisip.ubb.ac.id/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://orcid.org/0000-0003-1012-0287 https://orcid.org/0000-0001-8099-4006 https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.33019/society.v7i2.85&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2019-12-31 Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 60 1. Introduction Émigré writers such as Kahlil Gibran and Mikhail Naimy were part a great literary movement that flourished in the Americas. The relationship between their works and historical context is undoubtedly a subject worthy of historical-literary analysis. Émigré creativity was characterized by aspects of the two cultures that hosted it. It is important to present a historical overview of the climate of political turmoil, economic misfortune, and social upheaval that engulfed Lebanon before the birth and during the life of Émigré literature. This is contrasted to the boom witnessed in the United States after Reconstruction (1865–1877), inviting great waves of migration from Ottoman Syria that included various writers. Émigré writers represent the intertwining of two cultures and perhaps the most significant event in their lives was immigrating from Lebanon to the United States of America. The immigration of these writers to the New World was part of a great migratory movement around the world in general and a relatively considerable one from Ottoman Syria in particular. This paper addresses the most important historical aspects in the period before and during the life of prominent émigré writers. 2. The Historical Context in the Levant The historical roots of this immigration date back to the middle of the 19th century in a climate of political instability, economic uncertainty, and social tension.2 Prior to that defining period, what is known today as Lebanon was part of the Ottoman Empire, which was on a steady rise since the conquest of Constantinople by Mehmed the Conqueror in 1453. Lebanon and the Levant in general fell to the Ottomans under the rule of Selim I upon his sweeping victory in the battle of Marj Dābiq in 1516 against the Mamluk Sultanate. The Ottomans ruled by dividing the lands in vast vilayets3 such as the vilayets of Aleppo and Baghdad. Due to the sectarian demographical structure of Lebanon with its Maronites, Druzes, Shites, Sunnis, etc., the Ottomans acknowledged its existing local feudal lords who maintained their partial de facto autonomy, such as the great Fakhr ’Al-Dīn II, who ruled vast lands in Lebanon and Syria. In general, the Ottomans did not try to impose their culture or language on the people of the region, and the society maintained its existing structure and relations. Thus, religion rather than race remained as the key factor in social unity. Non-Muslims maintained their civic freedom and usually followed their religious leaders in such affairs.4 Due to the complexity of the political order of the day, corruption was rampant at all levels of government, starting from the feudal lords, up to the vali5 and the upper echelons of central government in certain periods. The region witnessed relatively weak economy and culture, with high taxes and widespread poverty and illiteracy. Contact with post-Renaissance Europe mainly took place through merchants, banks, and companies that had extensive presence in the region largely due to the export of sericulture. Additionally, Catholic and Protestant missionary schools and colleges were on the rise, and a special Maronite seminary was established in Rome to train monks who would go back to prominent positions within the Maronite church. Beirut flourished as an international trade port for the whole region, and later as the point of departure for thousands of immigrants. Telegraph 2 Issawi, 1992: 13-31. 3 Vilayets and sanjaks were administrative divisions, provinces and districts, of the Ottoman Empire. 4 Hitti, 1951: 668 5 Governor of a vilayet; an administrative division or province. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 61 lines reached Beirut in 1863, which enabled the blossoming newspaper industry to cover global events on a daily basis, enabling constant contact with the West.6 Earlier in the 19th century, the region witnessed marked prosperity, especially when compared to other regions in Syria, under the leadership of the local prince Bashīr Shihāb II. The Maronite prince also allowed the church to increase its influence, especially with its direct contact with Rome and Paris, at the helm of the social and economic structures.7 The successors of this prince were not as effective, which negatively affected the people of the region. Various other factors including sectarian instability, heavy taxes, and foreign intervention also had a negative effect on Lebanon. Ibrahim Pasha’s conquest of Damascus in 1832 led to instability across the region, before he was forced to retreat in 1841. Additionally, the Tanzimat policy8 of Sultan Mahmud, adversely affected the people of Lebanon. The Druze minority was dissatisfied with the division of Mount Lebanon into two districts under two kaymakams9 and their lack of political and economic privileges. All of these factors led in 1860 to a civil war that resulted in the massacre of 11000 Maronites and the displacement of 100,000.10 The conflict extended to Damascus where hundreds of Christians were murdered.11 To quell the clashes, Napoleon III sent 6000 French troops, saving the Maronite majority. The Maronites were not as organized as the Druze minority, who were backed by the English and Ottomans, and thus suffered more losses. In the Reglement Organique of 1861, Mount Lebanon’s autonomy was recognized by the Sublime Porte, with the protection of France, Britain, Austria, Prussia, and Russia. The kaymakams system of 1841 became a Mutasarrifate governed by a Mutasarrif who was by law a catholic non-Arab Ottoman appointed by the Sultan,12 and assisted by an Administrative Council of 12 elected members, eventually seven of whom were Christians. With foreign protection and autonomy, the Mutasarrifate witnessed great prosperity with development in silk production and modern artisan work, in addition to trade, financial services, and road building.13 In short, the Maronite military defeat turned into political gain, and later economic gain, with the new government system.14 This agreement officially ended the old system, and power was divided between the Mutasarrif and the Church that controlled more than one third of the lands. However, this economic upturn did not affect all Maronite villagers and peasants. The ―persistence of large landed holdings and the church waqfs‖ coupled with rapid population growth became important push factors for immigration to the West.15 In general, the economic, social, and political climate witnessed some improvements, with calls for decentralization, officialization of Arabic, and reform of military service becoming more pronounced in Beirut. However, the First World War (1914-1918) and the Arab Revolt (1916-1918) ushered in some of the darkest years in the history of the region, especially with the 6 Hourani, 1992: 4. 7 Hitti, 1959: 213-227. 8 Started in 1839 and ended 1876. It aimed to modernize the administration of the empire and secure it against nationalist movements. 9 A Kaza, or district, was ruled by a kaymakam. 10 Issawi, 1992: 21. 11 Mishaqa, 1988: 30. 12 Abu Khalil, 1998: 177. 13 Naff, 1993: 29. 14 Traboulsi, 2007: 42-43. 15 Traboulsi, 2007: 45-47. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 62 appointment of Ahmed Djemal Pasha as governor in 1915. Conscription, war bonds, expropriation of agricultural produce, drop in trade, epidemics, and famine made Beirut and Mount Lebanon suffer in despair. Around 100,000 of their inhabitants perished in these years.16 The defeat of the Ottomans resulted in the French Mandate for Syria and Lebanon (1920-1940s), a period of military occupation, and political and economic instability that gave birth to the modern Lebanese Republic. 3. The Historical Context in the United States of America A defining event in 19th century America was the Civil War in the 1860s, the culmination of a tumultuous period that witnessed the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln and the abolition of slavery through the 13th Amendment to the US Constitution. Gibran reached the American shores at the end of the century to a country defined by immigration and war, but transformed by industrial progress. Politically, the Progressive movement was gaining control of the scene with its activism for eradicating political corruption and corporate monopoly, while advocating pure democracy that stresses citizen initiatives and referenda, as compared to constitutional or representative democracy. Immigration in the 19th century was marked by the rise of Nativism, which is antagonism towards new immigrants by native-born citizens. However, the arrival of immigrants continued to increase with the arrival of millions seeking refuge from want and persecution in Europe. Historical data reveal that almost 50 million Third Wave immigrants entered the United States in the decades preceding and succeeding Gibran’s arrival.17 The enormity of the number of immigrants is clarified by the actual number of residents in the US around that time. According to the Twelfth United States Census, conducted by the Census Office in 1900, the population was approximately 76 million, compared to 62 million in the 1890 Census.18 Economically, the United States witnessed great progress over the second half of the century, with periodic shocks and depressions such as the Panic of 1893. The railroad industry, with funding from booming Wall Street, provided numerous employment opportunities and spurred growth in the metal industry and later in inter-state commerce. With extensive rail coverage, thousands of locomotives facilitated access to arable lands and made transporting their produce to the national market possible, which, coupled with mechanization, played a major role in the progress of agriculture. In the last two decades of the century, American gross national product nearly doubled, with growth in all areas of the economy. Manufacturing led the expansion with an increase of almost 200%, compared to around 25% growth in agriculture.19 These forward strides would not have been feasible had it not been for the leaps achieved in technology and innovation. The end of the century witnessed the wide use of electric generators and lights, in addition to innovations and improvements in telecommunication and engineering, with names such as Edison, Westinghouse, Ford, and others leading the technical-industrial race. With rising skyscrapers, new corporations changed the image of a nation and employed millions of its workers. All of these developments, with the advent of the petroleum industry, culminated in the crowning of the relatively young republic as the world’s greatest industrial power at the 16 Traboulsi, 2007: 70-72. 17 Mauk & Oakland, 2005: 57. 18 U.S. Census Bureau, U.S. Department of Commerce, 2014. 19 Murrin et al., 2011: 499. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 63 beginning of the 20th century.20 The might of the United States was confirmed by victory in the First World War which intensified its role on the international economic and political arenas. 4. Immigration at the Turn of the Century Immigration has been an integral part of the human experience. Whether voluntary emigration or involuntary migration, the phenomenon has affected millions of people in the past two centuries, boosted by opportunities in the New World and advancements in travel facilities. There are numerous operative push and pull factors at play behind worldwide immigration in the 19th century, such as famine, drought, slavery, war, oppression, and work. The world witnessed more than 150 million cases of documented immigration in the 19th century and early 20th century, mostly in steerages of ships.21 As for the United States, it is a country defined by immigration, described by John F. Kennedy as a nation of immigrants.22 The formative years of immigration to the Americas began in the 16th century with the very first European settlements. Immigration in the 19th century was dominated by Europeans as well, as the rising number of Asian arrivals was stemmed with the Exclusion Act of 1882.23 The great wave of immigration, from the middle of the 19th century to the beginning of the 20th century, helped increase the population of the country from less than 20 million to more than 100 million.24 The flow of immigrants was interrupted by the Civil War, but poverty and population growth in the old world pushed the numbers to greater heights after the war subsided. To accommodate the influx, Ellis Island was set up in 1892 as the gateway for millions to anticipated prosperity and, in many cases, a new national belonging. The arriving masses were motley of races and religions ranging from Catholic Irish to Druze Arabs. The term New Immigrants was used to denote those arriving after 1880, as they were less homogenous than the predominantly Protestant Western Europeans of the previous decades. New Immigrants formed the majority of inhabitants in several Northeastern towns. Immigration from Ottoman Levant is an important historical phenomenon as it had affected thousands of families, especially in Mount Lebanon. The act itself was a complex process, but that did not deter entire families from fulfilling their aspirations. Immigration picked up momentum after the conclusion of the 1860 Druze–Maronite conflict and the establishment of Mount Lebanon Mutasarrifate. Thus, between 1860 and 1900, around 120,000 people left the Levant, mostly Christians from the Mount. This is a staggering number given that the population of Lebanon stood at a quarter of a million in 1895.25 The Sublime Porte took half-hearted measures to limit the number of departing Lebanese, mostly to safeguard the international reputation of the state as modern, with a strong economy and robust minority rights policy.26 These measures failed as there were various factors that facilitated this mass migration, such as the growth of Beirut as the main port in the region, educational reform largely due to missionary schools, contact with Europeans and Americans, and the use of steamships,27 in addition to syndicates profiting from people smuggling. Regardless of 20 Murrin et al., 2011: 524. 21 McKeown, 2004: 156. 22 Kennedy, 2008. 23 Daniels, 2001: 9. 24 Ward, 2001: 285. 25 Issawi, 1992: 23 - 31. 26 Akarli, 1992: 100. 27 Rowe, 2008: 93. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 64 outcomes, immigrants from the Levant to the Americas were overwhelmingly sojourners, who had travelled of their own accord to achieve certain ambitions of high income and return28 with savings and success stories. Fortunately, their immigrant experience in the United States was generally positive, with most starting out as peddlers29 based in larger cities of the East Coast such as New York and Boston. To conclude, the difficult political, economic and social circumstances in the Levant formed a push factor that led many families and individuals to immigrate in search of a better life. On the other hand, the climate of freedom and prosperity in the United States became a pull factor that attracted these immigrants to the ports of the American East Coast. 5. Arabic Literary Context The Levant has been a cradle of human civilization; home to the early alphabet, the Judeo- Christian tradition, and the rise of Islamic culture. However, this unique place in the intellectual history of the world was hard to uphold with the decline of the Ottoman Empire. Hence, the 18th century was largely representative of intellectual infertility in the region. The succeeding intellectual and literary production of the 19th century was either an extension of old traditions or a reaction to the contact with the West. The cross-fertilization between the traditional, perceived as unscientific and static, and the modern, perceived as scientific and dynamic, characterized most of scholarly and literary discourse of the period. In literature, Arabic literature has been mostly an autonomous continuum with minor foreign influences characterized by great reverence for its poetry. This began to change in the 19th century, with the arrival of new forms such as journalism and drama, and new concepts such as Romanticism. Although cultural espousal is a gradual and multifaceted process, its catalyst can be traced back to the French Campaign in Egypt and Syria (1798–1801), which was Napoleon Bonaparte's ill-fated attempt to extend French influence and undermine British India. The campaign was distinguished by the swift and comprehensive defeat it inflicted on the Ottomans, and by the inclusion of various scientists and scholars among its members. The shock generated by Western omnipotence after the conclusion of the Napoleonic expedition led rulers to send educational missions to study in Europe, establish modern schools, found translation centers, and support the spread of newspapers and magazines. In Syria, Christian missionaries, Protestant and Jesuits, established numerous Western-style schools, whose graduates played a principal role on the intellectual and literary scene of the period both in Syria and Egypt. In prose, the spread of journalism facilitated the blooming of simple Arabic prose, removed from the embellished rhythmic writing of previous centuries, and capable of objectively conveying scientific truths and social commentary.30 Limited numbers of Arabic presses were available in Aleppo and Beirut as early as the 1700s, but the proliferation of presses, and with them translation and newspapers, became a hallmark of the 19th century. Thus, with the development of printing and journalism, and the spread of translated novels, the stage was set for a steady evolution of prose. Arabic literary prose flourished with a mixture of tradition and modernity, as in the writings of ’Aḥmad Fāris Shidyāq, ’Al-Bustānī, and Francis Marrāsh. The mature Arabic novel was only to be realized in the 20th century, with Muḥammad Ḥusayn Haykal (1888 - 1956) as a key transitional figure. 28 Abdelhady, 2014: 19. 29 Khater, 2001: 75. 30 Badawi, 1997: 8. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 65 In poetry, the advent of Neoclassicism and Romanticism is more evident than in prose. Neoclassicism, as the name indicates, was a return to the lofty poetic language and standards of the classic past, while expressing the outlook and addressing the concerns of contemporary times. Key figures of Arabic Neoclassicism included Nāṣīf ’Al-Yāzijī, who co-translated the Bible, Maḥmūd Sāmī ’Al-Bārūdī, and ’Aḥmad Shawqī.31 The wide critical and popular acclaim received by neoclassical poets breathed a new life into Arabic poetry and revived trust and interest in literature. This paved the way for Romantic poetry to evolve and blossom naturally in the footsteps of a changing society. The target readership, with the advent of magazines, newspapers, schools and colleges, shifted from elite intelligentsia and rulers to the incipient young urban middleclass. This shift in readership marshaled a shift towards Romanticism. The distinguishing features of Romantic poetry were the high level of personal expression, intensity of emotions voiced, and the relative freedom in the choice of diction and rhythm. These features, in great part, were inspired by European Romantic poets. The best representative of Romanticism in Arabic poetry could be Khalīl Muṭrān (1872 – 1949) who was born in Lebanon and settled in Egypt. In general, division between tradition and modernity characterized the cultural and literary discourse of the period. Europe was seen as the model to be emulated given its military and scientific ascendency since the Renaissance, but it was at the same time the enemy that occupied Egypt subjugated Arabia and the Maghreb, and threatened the Caliph. Tradition was suspected in the imbalance of development against Europe to be incongruent with progress. Modernization, which was synonymous with Westernization, was imposed on tradition and was not gradually reached out of it, and hence the dichotomy between modernity and tradition existed. In general, the period can be described a period of progress and renewal of Arabic literary themes and forms after decades of stagnation. 6. American Literary Context At the dawn of American colonies in the new world, culture was characterized by dependence on European heritage and by being localized in each region with little intellectual interaction. A national culture, chiefly marked by Christianity, capitalism, and democracy, began to truly form with the conclusion of the Civil War and the ensuing sense of unity. However, three dominant regional cultures were evident in the West, South, and North. Eventually, the North became culturally dominant with concepts such as individualism, social Darwinism, pragmatism, and progressivism.32 The 19th century ushered an intensification of American literature and the rise of many of its towering figures such as Washington Irving, James Fenimore Cooper, William Cullen Bryant, Nathaniel Hawthorne, and Edgar Allan Poe. These writers paved the way for Romanticism to enter and occupy a prominent literary position in American literature and to also earn wide recognition across the Atlantic. This is true of Edgar Allan Poe, whose works were translated by the great French poet, Charles Baudelaire. Poe also pioneered the genre of detective short story and was an important figure in forging American gothic writing and literary criticism. The most celebrated intellectual movement of the 19th century in the United States was Transcendentalism, whose high priest was Ralph Waldo Emerson. The movement was instrumental in the formation of uniquely American letters.33 It was an idealist movement that 31 Somekh, 1997: 43. 32 Crunden, 1994: 128. 33 Goetzmann, 2009: 208. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 66 developed in New England in the 1830s, influenced by European Romanticism and the philosophy of Immanuel Kant. It emphasized the manifestation of God in nature, individualism, and intuition. It detested the control of religion over society, stressing instead individual freedom and the divine nature of a human being. Emerson, as a citizen of the world, sought to redefine man, God, and nature in order to change society and its conception of reality.34 His most influential ideas came in the form of essays such as Nature, Self-Reliance, The Over-Soul, The Poet, and Experience. Notably, Emerson, the Sage of Concord, called for America to cease its cultural and literary reliance on Europe, calling for its intellectual independence. 35 The influence of this movement, and especially of its leader, on the history of American thought was summarized by eminent critic, Harold Bloom, who wrote that ―after Emerson, every strong American writer and thinker has been an Emersonian or an anti-Emersonian but not indifferent to him. This is because he became the Mind of America.‖36 Another influential Transcendentalist writer is Henry David Thoreau, whose lasting legacy is Walden: Or Life in the Woods, a guidebook of modest life in nature. It narrates a personal experiment of seclusion for self-reliance and spiritual awareness. Another famous work by Thoreau is Resistance to Civil Government (Civil Disobedience), which calls for civil disobedience when an authoritarian state forces the individual to act against his morality. The influence of the movement extended to Walt Whitman whose seminal book, Leaves of Grass, is one of the most famous poetry collection in American literary history with poems such as Song of Myself, revolving about freedom, celebrating the human body and American root democracy.37 If transcendentalism was the avant-garde of romanticism in the United States, the same is true of naturalism in the context of realism. The latter began to gain momentum with the conclusion of the Civil War due to the dominance of a stable rational and scientific culture. Emphasizing characterization, daily lives, and social observations, the movement gained popularity with the works of Mark Twain and Henry James. Owing much of its features to European roots, the naturalist trend came to dominance in the wake of realism, stressing social determinism through a scientifically accurate depiction of life with a special focus on its oppressed and gruesome sides. Among the significant naturalist authors were Stephen Crane and Frank Norris.38 Following the fast-paced industrialization and urbanization at the turn of the century, modernism was to dominate the literary scene augmented by the ideas of some great Continental thinkers such as Sigmund Freud, Charles Darwin, and Friedrich Nietzsche. The First World War strengthened the hold of modernism with a sense of desperation mixed with alienation and anxiety,39 heralding the names of T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, and F. Scott Fitzgerald as the leading figures on the literary stage of the times. 7. Arabic Émigré Literature The émigré movement is a result of the contact between Arab writers and the American literary environment. A defining literary phenomenon in the history of Arabic literature, it was largely established by Christian Levantine writers in the Americas during the early decades of 34 Goetzmann, 2009: 185. 35 Crunden, 1994: 89. 36 Harold Bloom, 2008: 11. 37 Gray, 2011: 212. 38 Quinn, 2006: 355. 39 Lauter, 2010: 377-378. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 67 the 20th century. Émigré literature was influenced by the American culture of freedom and individualism, European Romanticism and nationalism, the deteriorating conditions of Arab peoples, and the ’Al-Nahḍah movement.40 Thus, Arabic émigré works explore and address subjective and emotional themes with a depth that was previously uncommon in Arabic literature. The spiritual aspects, with a stress on nature as the primary source of good, are also defining and unique features of émigré works. Such works are also concerned with the social problems of immigrants at the turn of the century and the political and economic ills of the Syrian homeland. The originality of these works, with their simple and innovative styles, has been a milestone in the history of Arabic literature. The first modern Arabic literary group, the Pen League, was a product of the émigré literary movement. The Pen League was established in New York in April, 1920, with a strong drive from Abdul Masih Haddad, the founder of ’Al-Sā’iḥ newspaper. Kahlil Gibran was elected president and Mikhail Naimy secretary, with an elite membership that included Nasib Arida, Abdul Masih Haddad, Elia Abu Madi, and Ameen Rihani. This League gave a far reaching resonance to the voice of the group and enhanced its ability to achieve its literary goals. In the words of Naimy in the preamble to its by-law, the League was ―aiming to transport our literature from stagnation to life, from imitation to creation… The tendency to keep our language and literature within the narrow bounds of aping the ancients in form and in substance is a most pernicious tendency… our life, our deeds, our circumstances are far different from theirs. We must be true to ourselves.‖41 The émigré movement benefited from the Arabic press in the United States. Thus, Arab- American newspapers popularized the creative works and critical views of émigré writers, and enabled them to reach Cairo, Beirut, and Damascus. The first Arabic newspaper in the US was Kawkab America in 1892, followed by ’Al-Hudā and Mir’āt ’Al-Gharb in 1898 and 1899. Other papers included ’Al-Bayān, ’Al-Majallah ’Al-‘arabiyah, ’Al-Funūn, and scores more, mostly in New York. One of the leading émigré writers greatly influenced by Gibran was Mikhail Naimy who was born in 1889. Naimy’s first source of influence was Russian literature as he studied at Russian schools before travelling to the Ukraine from 1906 to 1911 as a student. He then moved to the United States and successfully launched his literary career. As a critic, his 1923 collection ’Al-Ghirbāl, had a lasting impact on the literary scene of the period, calling for a greater stylistic and syntactic freedom to express subjective emotions, instead of the complex and rigid systems of traditional Arabic. He also stressed that the role of art is to convey a message from the heart, without artificial embellishments. His poem ’Akhī (My Brother) is a lucid testimony to the doctrine he preached with its subjective voice and whispered tone. Without rhetorical pretensions, the poem approached a traditional subject matter, war, in a novel way.42 The most gifted poet of the émigré movement in the United States was Elia Abu Madi who was born in Lebanon in 1889. He left for Egypt at a young age, and there published his first collection of poetry, before emigrating to the USA in 1911. His true success as a poet came after moving to New York and joining the Pen League with the publication of his second and third collections. Abu Madi excelled in the expression of personal bitterness in a modern world and the solace he found in individualism and nature. He ushered into Arabic literature an 40’Al-Nahḍah (renaissance) refers to the historical intellectual reform and modernization of Arab culture, centering in Egypt.’Al-Khafājī, Qiṣat ’Al-’Adab ’Al-Mahjarī, 1986: 125-147. 41 Naimy, 1974: 155-156. 42 Ostle, 1997: 99-100. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 68 atmosphere of vagueness and perplexity that was avant-garde. His most famous works include, al-Ṭalāsim, expressing agnosticism and anguish in a style that departs from traditional Arabic qaṣīdah.43 8. Conclusions The émigré movement presented Arabic literature with its finest Romantic output, an achievement that echoed across the Arab world despite the geographical distance of its origin. Ostle admired the vitality and position of this movement as it changed the course of Arabic literary expression with focus on themes such as ―the duality of body and soul, the poet- prophet of grandiose isolation or simply bewildered subjective malaise... With their preference for short simple metres and stanzaic forms, and their willingness to experiment with lines of irregular length, they paved the way for the formal revolutions that were to occur.‖44 As discussed above, the historical context in the Levant and the Arab world in general, before and during the life of Gibran and other émigré writers, was largely characterized by hardship. The Ottoman Empire was sick at that period, which reflected negatively on Greater Syria. In contrast, the United States was fast developing towards unprecedented prosperity. This led to a wave of immigration, which included a number of writers and their families, from the Levant to the American east coast. For example, the young Gibran, under the protective wing of his mother, left the quite life of the Mount village to the hustle and bustle of Boston and New York. The Arab cultural scene during the same period was chiefly characterized by a clash between tradition and modernity, fueled to a great extent by direct interaction with the West. In literature, émigré writers were on the side of modernizers, calling for a new spirit of subjective literature with less focus on classic forms. These writers came to a cosmopolitan culture and a booming literary environment, which helped to nurture and polish their talents. It can be argued that this environment fundamentally shaped their outlook on modernizing culture and literary innovation. The two major recommendations that can be gleaned from the above discussions revolve around the role of interaction between a writer and their culture. First, to fully appreciate literary creativity, critics and readers need to be aware of the culture of the writer and how both culture and writer affect each other. Second, to develop and cultivate a writer’s creative literary abilities, it can be advantageous to gain new experiences and insights outside one’s familiar environment into diverse cultures with dissimilar worldviews. 9. Acknowledgement The authors wish to thank the IIUM Flagship Research Initiative Grant Scheme (IIUM Flagship), IRF19-018-0018 awarded by International Islamic University Malaysia for the financial support and facilities for making this study a success. References ’Al-Khafājī, M. (1986). Qiṣat ’Al-’Adab ’Al-Mahjarī. Beirut: Dār ’Al-Kitāb ’Al-Lubnānī. Abdelhady, D. (2014). ―The Sociopolitical History of Arabs in the United States: Assimilation, Ethnicity, and Global Citizenship‖, in Biopsychosocial Perspectives on Arab Americans: 43 R.C. Ostle, 1997: 101-105. 44 R.C. Ostle, 1997: 109. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 69 Culture, Development, and Health, edited by Sylvia Nassar-McMillan, Kristine Ajrouch, and Julie Hakim-Larson, 17-43. New York: Springer. AbuKhalil, A. (1998). Historical Dictionary of Lebanon. London: Scarecrow Press. Akarli, E. (1992). ―Ottoman Attitudes towards Lebanese Emigration, 1885—1910‖ in The Lebanese in the World: A Century of Emigration, edited by Albert Hourani and Nadim Shehadi, London: I.B. Tauris,. Badawi, M. (1997). ―Introduction: The Background‖, in The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature: Modern Arabic Literature, edited by M. M. Badawi, 1-35. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bloom, H. (2008). Bloom’s Classic Critical Views: Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York: Infobase Publishing. Crunden, R. (1994). A Brief History of American Culture. New York: Paragon House. Daniels, R. (2001). American Immigration: A Student Companion. Oxford: Oxford University Press Goetzman, W. (2009). Beyond the Revolution: A History of American Thought from Paine to Pragmatism. New York: Basic Books. Gray, R. (2011). A History of American Literature. Malden, Massachusetts: Wiley-Blackwell. Hitti, P. (1951). History of Syria. London: Macmillan and Co,. Hitti, P. (1959). A Short History of Syria. New York: Macmillan. Hourani, A. (1992). ―Introduction‖ in The Lebanese in the World: A Century of Emigration, edited by Albert Hourani and Nadim Shehadi. London: I.B. Tauris. Issawi, C. (1997). ―The Historical Background of Lebanese Emigration, 1800-1914‖ in The Lebanese in the World: A Century of Emigration, edited by Albert Hourani and Nadim Shehadi, London: I.B. Tauris. Murrin, J. M., Johnson, P. E., McPherson, J. M., Fahs, A., & Gerstle, G. (2011). Liberty, Equality, Power: A History of the American People. Boston: Wadsworth. Kennedy, J. (2008). A Nation of Immigrants. New York: HarperCollins. Khater, A. (2001). Inventing Home: Emigration, Gender, and the Middle Class in Lebanon, 1870-1920. Berkeley: University of California Press. Lauter, P. (2010). A Companion to American Literature and Culture. Malden, Massachusetts: Wiley- Blackwell, 2010. Mauk, D., & Oakland, J. (2005). American Civilization: An Introduction. London: Routledge. McKeown, A. (2004). ―Global Migration 1846–1940.‖ Journal of World History 15 ( 2), 155-189. Mishaqa, M. (1988). Murder, Mayhem, Pillage, and Plunder: The History of the Lebanon in the 18th and 19th Centuries .New York: State University of New York Press. Naff, A. (1993). Becoming American: The Early Arab Immigrant Experience. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press. Naimy, M. (1974). Kahlil Gibran: His Life and his Works. Beirut: Naufal Publishers, 1974. Ostle, R. C. (1997). ―The Romantic Poets‖, in The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature: Modern Arabic Literature, edited by M. M. Badawi, 82-131. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Payne, M. (2005). The Greenblatt Reader ed. Oxford: Blackwell. Quinn, E. (2006) A Dictionary of Literary and Thematic Terms. New York: Checkmark Books. Rowe, A. (2008). ―A Trace of Arabic in Granite: Lebanese Migration to the Green Mountains, 1890–1940‖, Vermont History 76 ( 2), 91–129. Somekh, S. (1997). ―The Neo-Classical Arabic Poets‖, in The Cambridge History of Arabic Literature: Modern Arabic Literature, edited by M.M. Badawi, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ Émigré Creativity in a Historical Context Copyright © 2019. Owned by Author(s), published by Society. This is an open-access article under CC-BY-NC-SA license. https://doi.org/10.33019/society.v7i2.85 70 Traboulsi, F. (2007). A History of Modern Lebanon. London: Pluto Press. U.S Department of Commerce. U.S. Census Bureau. (2014). 1900 Overview. Retrieved from http://www.census.gov/history/www/through_the_decades/overview/1900.html Ward, D. (2001). ―Population Growth, Migration, and Urbanization 1860-1920‖, in North America: The Historical Geography of a Changing Continent, edited by Thomas F. McIlwraith and Edward K. Muller, 285-305. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers. __________________________________ About The Authors 1. Homam Altabaa (Ph.D.) is an Assistant Professor at Department of Fundamental and Inter- Disciplinary Studies, Kulliyyah of Islamic Revealed Knowledge and Human Sciences, International Islamic University Malaysia. His doctoral thesis investigated the mystical elements in the works of Kahli Gibran, and he has published several articles on the works of Kahlil Gibran. E-Mail: drhomam@iium.edu.my; htabaa@gmail.com. 2. Adham Hamawiya (Ph.D.) Assistant Professor of Arabic Linguistic Studies at Department of Fundamental and Inter-Disciplinary Studies, Kulliyyah of Islamic Revealed Knowledge and Human Sciences, International Islamic University Malaysia. His research area covers various aspects of Arabic language and literature. E-Mail: adhamawiya@iium.edu.my. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/ http://www.census.gov/history/www/through_the_decades/overview/1900.html mailto:drhomam@iium.edu.my mailto:htabaa@gmail.com mailto:adhamawiya@iium.edu.my 1. Introduction 2. The Historical Context in the Levant 3. The Historical Context in the United States of America 4. Immigration at the Turn of the Century 5. Arabic Literary Context 6. American Literary Context 7. Arabic Émigré Literature 8. Conclusions 9. Acknowledgement References 
work_tb7x2b4ua5elxpty3n2lzlszom	----	in the final analysis Volume 72 Number 6 June 2020 James J. Robinson Executive Director JO “Like many associations, the 2020 TMS calendar of activities was run through a shredder during March and continuing into the second quarter.” @JJRofTMS “The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be —Ralph Waldo Emerson In many ways, Emerson’s observation on the purpose of life applies not just to responsible individuals but also to organizations that seek to pursue the greater good. It certainly applies By convening the materials community to network and collaborate on tasks that serve the good of the order, by building excellence in education, by helping industries be more by inspiring the pipeline of future professionals. Coming into 2020, we had many strategies, But, one strategy that we lacked was how to be useful to our materials science and one. But tools we did need, and we needed them the day before yesterday. What could I’ve learned, I think that we have answered “yes” to all. worked to leverage new government programs, dial back on discretionary activities, and is restructuring its events calendar, is planning for future disruptions, and is retaining our Knowing that the lights would stay on, the second order of business was to look toward what we could do quickly to serve our membership meaningfully and altruistically. We professional community and access professional development tools. Inspired by member biological and health sciences. However, as with so many problems, materials science to render materials or manufacturing assistance, resources, and/or expertise. our collective response to our era’s pandemic. If so, perhaps we will add “happy” to that list. JOM, Vol. 72, No. 6, 2020 https://doi.org/10.1007/s11837-020-04199-0 Ó 2020 The Minerals, Metals & Materials Society 2105 in the final analysis 
work_teswhoibvzg6xa73bja4xuk6oa	----	Introduction Although migraine has been known since the time of the Ancient Greeks (the term being derived from hemi-crania – the Greek for one-sided headache), our knowledge of its causes and treatment is much more recent. The main cause for its long neglect was the failure to consider it a serious disorder, because “everyone has headaches”. Even neurologists, specialists in disorders of the nervous system, gave it scant attention because of their need to deal with more serious, even fatal, conditions; this was in spite of the fact that a quarter of all patients attending neurological out-patient departments are there because of headache. The neglect by the medical profession was such that as a student, both undergraduate and postgradu- ate, including neurological training, I did not receive one single lecture on headache. Patients were naturally dissatisfied, so it was not sur- prising when one such sufferer, Peter Wilson, whose migraine started at the age of 12 and continued to his sev- enth decade, contacted others with the same complaint. In March 1958, encouraged by a pharmacist, George Ball, Peter advertised a meeting for those with migraine in a local newspaper, the Bournemouth Evening Echo. The meeting was held in the flat of one of the ten people attending; each contributed £10 so that a group was start- ed with Peter Wilson, a local government officer, as its Honorary Secretary1. With an announcement of its forma- tion in a national daily paper – the Daily Telegraph – another 200 people became involved, including a Nobel Prize winner, well known writers, scientists and several J Headache Pain (2006) 7:109–115 DOI 10.1007/s10194-006-0275-5 The History of the Migraine Trust H I S T O R Y O F H E A D A C H E S E C T I O N F.C. Rose (�) Founding Director, Academic Unit of Neuroscience, Charing Cross & Westminster (now Imperial College) Medical School e-mail: fcliffordrose@tiscali.co.uk Late Physician in Charge, Department of Neurology, Charing Cross Hospital, London, UK Frank Clifford Rose Abstract The history of a medical charity founded for the purpose of initiating research into the com- monest of all human afflictions - headache. Of the 100 causes, migraine is one of the commonest, and in spite of the lack of interest of the medical profession, this review shows how the pace of research rapidly increased as evi- denced by the biennial International Symposia of the Migraine Trust Keywords Migraine • Early • Symposia • Proceedings • Headache clinics Received: 4 March 2006 Accepted in revised form: 6 March 2006 Published online: 31 March 2006 110 doctors. By the end of the following year, there were over 1000 members. In 1964 this group of patients formed the British Migraine Association; its purpose was “to encour- age the creation of headache clinics and to raise money for headache research” [1]2. Although the British Migraine Association was essen- tially a patients’ organisation, set up as a charitable trust, the need for more medical input was required and Dr Macdonald Critchley was asked to help form the Migraine Trust, and be the founding Chairman. One of its most important functions was to organise meetings where clin- ical scientists could regularly review what was known about this complex disorder, stimulate research and report their results. In the mid-1960s, the British Migraine Association, led by Peter Wilson, approached the Wellcome Foundation for support. Doctor Richard Smith was then working there on pain research and, in association with the College of General Practitioners (before it became Royal), organised a meeting for GPs on migraine, chaired by Macdonald Critchley. Discussions between Critchley and Smith reached the conclusion that “an organisation of sufficient weight” was needed to “gain the attention and support of the medico-scientific establishment” [2]. Smith approached Lord Brain, the neurologist who was then President of the Royal College of Physicians who agreed to lead the effort to create a Migraine Trust. The first Trustees besides Lord Brain were Lord and Lady Snow, Sir Cyril Musgrove (a city financier) and Doctor Macdonald Critchley, with Richard Smith as Secretary. Lady Snow (the novelist Pamela Hansford Johnson) acted as liaison between the Trust and the British Migraine Association. Lord Brain asked HRH Princess Margaret to become the Patron of the Trust, which she graciously accepted. A fundraising dinner was held at Apothecaries Hall for the first symposium on Background to Migraine. Lord Brain passed away at this time and Lord Snow succeeded him as Chairman. At that meeting Sir George Godber, when Chief Medical Officer of the National Health Service, had been criticised because of the absence of spe- cial provision for migraine. He asked Critchley for help and this is how the first two hospital migraine clinics began. “For that” Sir George added, “I have always been profoundly grateful to him.” Background to migraine The first Migraine Symposium was held in November 1965 at the National Hospital and its proceedings pub- lished under the title of Background to Migraine [3]. It was at this meeting that the first Sandoz Foundation Lecture was given by Macdonald Critchley on “Migraine: from Cappadocia to Queen Square” (Table 1). In his intro- ductory speech, the then Minister of Health, the Right Honourable Kenneth Robinson, quoted Ralph Waldo Emerson, “at every stage we lose a foe; at fifty we lose our sick headaches”, which indicated the truth that most forms of headache lessen with age. He then wondered “what the Cappadocians were doing at this gathering”, presumably because he did not know that Aretaeus of Cappadocia was the first to characterise migraine [4]. The interest engendered by this meeting led to a fur- ther symposium in the following year with another publi- cation [5]. On this occasion the second Sandoz Foundation Lecture was given by Sir Derrick Dunlop (Scotland) on The therapeutics of migraine, which fea- tured ergotamine as the medication for the treatment of acute attacks and methysergide for prevention. The third Migraine Symposium had as its Sandoz Foundation Lecturer Arnold Friedman (USA) whose title was The (infinite) varieties of migraine [6]. These proceedings included three chapters on dietary migraine and tyramine, which proved to be a false trail, but another topic, which proved highly rewarding, was by Professor James Lance of Sydney on serotonin, as it eventually resulted in the triptans being the best treat- ment for acute attacks. The fourth Migraine Symposium Sandoz lecture was given by Professor John Cumings on Migraine – a bio- chemical disorder? This volume [7] was aimed at general Table 1 Sandoz Foundation Lectures 1966 Macdonald Critchley Migraine: from Cappadocia to Queen Square 1967 Sir Derrick Dunlop The therapeutics of migraine 1969 Arnold P. Friedman The (infinite) variety of migraine 1970 John N. Cumings Migraine, a biochemical disorder 1976 John Marshall Cerebral flood flow in migraine 1978 James W. Lance Migraine: an attempted synthesis 1980 Donald J. Dalessio Recent experimental studies on headache 1982 Edwin Bickerstaff Complicated migraine 1984 Maurice H. Lessof Migraine: how much is due to allergy? 1986 Michael Moskowitz Sensory connections to cephalic blood vessels and their possible importance to vascular headaches 111 practitioners and had a chapter by Dr Marcia Wilkinson on Migraine as seen in the London City Clinic. All these four books of the proceedings were entitled Background to Migraine, and published by Heinemann, with which Dr Raymond Greene had a close connection3. The fifth (1972) and sixth (1974) biennial migraine symposia had only abstracts and were not published. Headache clinics In the UK, headache clinics had been started by Dr Macdonald Critchley at both the London hospitals where he worked, namely King’s College Hospital and the National Hospital, Queen Square. It was in the late 1960s that I was approached by a pharmaceutical company, Sandoz, to undertake a clinical trial on their new migraine preventative drug, known then only as CB105. Having been appointed in 1965 as Consultant Neurologist to the Charing Cross Group of Hospitals, I began a weekly migraine clinic at one of the constituent hospitals in Hammersmith – the West London Hospital. A clinical assistant, Felicity Hartridge, funded by Sandoz, was chosen to help4. The trial of CB105 as a migraine prophylactic proved successful and it was mar- keted by the company as Sanomigran (with the generic name of pizotifen). It proved to have side effects of som- nolence and weight increase, which were particularly unwelcome in migraine patients, who tended to be younger women. Directors of the Migraine Trust Derek Mullis, who served as Director of the Migraine Trust during its most significant period of growth, began his connection with the trust in 1965. After reading of its founding, he wrote to the then Director offering to raise money, because both his wife and daughter had migraine. Invited to become a member of the Management Committee, he soon became its Chairman, and later joined the Medical Advisory Committee as its one “non-medic” (personal communication). Appreciating that none of the doctors who had consulted his wife for migraine had actu- ally ever seen a patient in an acute attack, he mentioned this at a Medical Advisory Committee and it transpired that 12 out of 16 present were in favour of a clinic for the treatment of acute attacks. Since Mullis had been a Lloyds Underwriter and was familiar with the City of London, he suggested the first clinic should be there because up to a million people worked in the City during the day and those having an acute attack would be able to be treated in a darkened room, where they would lie down and be treat- ed until recovered. The first City migraine clinic A public meeting was held under the chairmanship of Lord (C.P.) Snow, with Sir Barnes Wallis as the main speaker. St Bartholomew’s Hospital (Barts) was willing to have the clinic under its auspices as long as there was no financial requirement; through their Special Trustees, the Migraine Trust was given a lease of “two completely bro- ken-down shops in Little Britain”. It was opened in 1970 by the Royal Patron of the Trust, Princess Margaret, Countess of Snowden with Dr Marcia Wilkinson as its part-time Director. The second migraine clinic The clinic was an immediate success and had to move to larger premises at 22 Charterhouse Square, which was actually the first house outside the City of London. The official opening took place on 17 May 1973 in Iron- mongers Hall (where Derek Mullis was a member). Sir Keith Joseph gave the note of thanks; Sir Ronald Bodley- Scott, the Royal Physician, was then Chairman of the Trustees. Well known personalities became associated with the Trust because they suffered from migraine, e.g., Sir Cyril Kleinwort, who became the Honorary Treasurer and gave the Trust £10 000 each year until he died; other sufferers were the Marquis of Linlithgow, who became a Trustee, as did Judge Argyle (who later preceded me as Chairman). Lord (C.P.) Snow, whose wife had migraine, was succeed- ed by Sir Thomas Holmes Sellors, a famous thoracic sur- geon but without a specific interest in migraine. In 1972, Mullis as Director and Critchley as Chairman invited me to form another clinic for patients with acute migraine attacks in the West London region. They offered a house similar to the one in Charterhouse Square near Charing Cross Hospital, but I pointed out that, as the New Charing Cross Hospital was being opened, there was ample accommodation available in the hospital. The Hammersmith Area Health Authority accepted “responsi- bility for the increased number of patients with migraine who would be attending”. The only cost to the Migraine Trust was in providing a Research Registrar. The Lease of 22 Charterhouse Square was for six years and in 1979 (with His Honour Judge Argyle, QC, as Chairman of 112 Trustees) it was realised that an unacceptable proportion of the Trust’s income was “being spent not on research but on patient care which should be the responsibility of the National Health Service”. The Trust ceased funding the clinic in the City (which has since been supported by the British Migraine Association and other private funding), and the name of the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic was transferred to the one at the new Charing Cross Hospital. In the 1980s research workers at the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic were awarded the Harold Wolff Award of the American Association for the Study of Headache (AASH) on two occasions for the best scientific presenta- tion of that year. In 1984 the Harold Wolff Award was given at the 26th Annual Meeting of the AASH, held in San Francisco; the paper was on “Metabolic abnormalities in cluster headaches”. As Founding Director of the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic, I was given the Distinguished Clinician Award of AASH in 1986 at its 28th Annual Meeting, held in Chicago. I became a trustee of the Migraine Trust in the early 1980s and succeeded to the Chairmanship, in which office I remained for 10 years. As Chairman I helped organise the biennial Migraine Trust International Symposia and edited their proceedings5. The Migraine Trust International Symposium (MTIS) The first designated Migraine Trust International Symposium was held in September 1976 and its proceed- ings were entitled Current Concepts in Migraine [8]. The second MTIS in 1978 was not published, but the third, held in 1980, was published the following year [9]. The first section, consisting of three chapters, was on clin- ical aspects and included the effect of weather (Per-Olaf Lundberg, Sweden) and cyclical migraine (Seymour Diamond, USA). The Sandoz lecturer was Professor Burnstock, who hypothesised that the underlying mecha- nisms for migraine were in the nervous control of blood vessels. Edda Hanington postulated a platelet disorder as a cause of migraine. There was a whole section of six chapters on platelet function but the research eventually turned out to be unrewarding. Another new section was on neurotransmitters (chemical messengers), which are still being actively and rewardingly investigated. The fourth MTIS [10], held in 1982, included a new special lecture named for Professor J.N. Cumings, a past Chairman of the Migraine Trust, and was given by Professor Murray Harper (Scotland) on the blood-brain barrier (Table 2). This named lecture was in addition to the Sandoz Foundation Lecture which, on this occasion, was given by Edwin Bickerstaff on “Complicated migraine” dealing with the permanent complications pro- duced by migraine. A reflection of the current research interest was that Neurochemical Aspects included a dozen chapters. The Symposium was held at Charing Cross Hospital and the number of migraine specialists attending had grown to 250 from 30 different countries. Derek Mullis had by then retired as Director of the Migraine Trust and was followed by Commander Oliver Wright. The fifth MTIS was held in 1984, again at Charing Cross Hospital. In his foreword to the proceedings [11], Macdonald Critchley quoted Doctor Samuel Johnson “to a man whose pleasure is intellectual, London is the place, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life, for there is in London, all that life can afford… the full tide of exis- tence is at Charing Cross”. At this gathering there were 300 specialists, again from 30 countries. The Cumings Memorial Lecture was given by Professor Jes Olesen (Denmark), on Vascular aspects of migraine pathophysi- ology. Because of the current interest there was an addi- tional section of five chapters on non-drug therapy. Immediately following the fifth MTIS a series of lec- tures were held on The management of migraine [12]. Intended for general physicians and family practitioners, it presented the considerable increase in knowledge of the many different causes of headaches. Supported by the British Migraine Association and Sandoz Pharmaceuticals, it was intended to help those doctors in primary care who treated one of the most common complaints of mankind. The biennial International Symposia of the Migraine Trust were not sufficient to satisfy the need for researchers to report their findings. For this reason, the World Federation of Neurology (WFN), at its quadrennial congress held in Kyoto, Japan in 1981, sponsored a sym- posium under the auspices of the WFN Research Group in Headache and Migraine. The proceedings [13] included seven chapters of research findings emanating from the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic and funded by the Migraine Trust. Table 2 Cumings Memorial Lectures 1976 Merton Sandler Monoamines and migraine – fact or fiction? 1978 John R. Vane Prostacyclin and vascular tone 1982 A. Murray Harper Possible role of monoamines, the blood–brain barrier and ATP in the pathogenesis of migraine 1984 Jes Olesen Vascular aspects of migraine pathophysiology 1986 Aristides Leão On the inferred relationship of migraine and spreading depression 113 The sixth MTIS held in 1986 had broken new ground, as it had to be expanded from two to three days and the number of participants had increased to over 500, partly due to satellite meetings of the International Headache Society and the WFN Research Group on Headache and Migraine. The last section of the volume [14] consisted of 8 chapters on chronic headache. The Cumings Memorial Lecture was given by Professor Leão (Brazil), the Brazilian neuroscientist who theorised spreading depres- sion was the cause of the migrainous aura. The other named lecture was by Professor Moskowitz (USA) on the trigemino-vascular cause of migraine, where the sensory nerves of the face also supplied blood vessels to the head. The seventh MTIS was in September 1988 in London and, although it lasted over three days, only a minority of the submitted papers could be given as platform presenta- tions, so that the proceedings ran to over 50 chapters [15]. This book recorded the tremendous increase over the pre- vious two years of knowledge regarding headache and migraine, particularly in neuro-imaging and fresh under- standing of chemical messengers (neurotransmitters). Divided into six sections, the first again dealt with clini- cal aspects, such as the cause of pain in the head and the mechanisms involved in migraine. One of the most impor- tant chapters was the International Headache Society’s Classification of Headache, which listed over 100 causes of headache on a firmer basis by indicating the precise cri- teria for diagnosis. This classification, produced by a committee of 12, proved very useful by giving a standard- ised basis for clinical trials (where one specific type of headache could be used to compare different treatments). It also proved useful in studying the genetic approach to migraine6. The second, third and fourth sections dealt, respectively, as was usual, with biochemical, vascular and physiological (functional) aspects, but the fifth covered cluster headache, a condition quite distinct from migraine, because it affects mainly the male sex and begins at a later age than migraine. The attacks last less than a few hours but can be repeated daily for several weeks – hence the term “cluster” headache. The pain is extremely severe and, as the treatment is different from migraine, patients should be seen by headache specialists. The final sixth section on treatment concerned diet, hormones, feverfew, depression and the dangers of too may painkillers. The eighth MTIS, held in September 1990, was on the occasion of the Silver Jubilee of the Trust. It was the largest meeting of headache researchers ever held, with over 1000 participants. The proceedings [16] consisted of 78 chapters divided into 10 sections. The section on clus- ter headaches now consisted of 12 chapters with an analy- sis of different groups, e.g., in different countries and in children (epidemiology). The treatment sessions were divided into prevention (prophylaxis), consisting of 12 chapters, and therapy of the acute attacks (8 chapters) as well as dietary aspects (5 chapters). In 1992 the ninth MTIS was held at Kensington Town Hall, London and the resulting publication [17], in addi- tion to the usual sections, had expanded on epidemiology (different population groups) and genetics (with four chapters). The Migraine Trust lecture was given on Recent advances in cluster headache research by Dr Lee Kudrow (USA). With the introduction of the triptans in 1991, there was increased support from the pharmaceutical industry As 1995 was the 30th anniversary of the foundation of the Migraine Trust, a special symposium was held at Leeds Castle, where 24 of the most active international researchers in migraine were invited; the proceedings were published under the rubric of Towards Migraine 2000 [18]7. This four-day conference, in what has been called the most beautiful castle in the United Kingdom, was rewarding in that discussions on controversial topics between the experts continued even during refreshment breaks. It is to reflect these divergent opinions that some of the discussions were included in the publication. It was a great pleasure and honour to have the Patron of the Migraine Trust, Her Royal Highness Princess Margaret as Guest of Honour at the Symposium Dinner. In considering book chapters based on work at the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic, Charing Cross Hospital, worthy of mention are three contributions in the volume on headache of the huge multivolume reference encyclopaedia called Handbook of Clinical Neurology [19]. These three chapters were on classification (Rose), drug therapy (Peatfield) and trigeminal neuralgia (Illingworth). The need for the Migraine Trust to inform patients and relatives in simple everyday terms about causes and treat- ments was soon apparent. This was evidenced by the num- ber of calls to its Helpline and the number of questioning letters received. Lay persons had a differing emphasis, e.g., how to manage migraine without taking drugs. After careful consideration articles on complementary tech- niques, e.g., acupuncture, were included in the Migraine Trust Newsletter. These articles were criticised by two members of the Medical Advisory Committee on the grounds that they had not been scientifically proven to be efficacious by controlled clinical trials. (Indeed, one member of that committee – a Nobel Prize winner – resigned on this issue.) It was the need to inform patients that induced the Oxford University Press to publish a book for sufferers. The Migraine Trust’s Research Registrar, Doctor Marek Gawel, and I were asked to undertake this task [20]; it is available both in hardback and softback covers. A second edition, much revised, was brought out by another pub- lisher nearly a quarter of a century later [21], which attempted to include the striking advances in layman’s 114 terms. The only changes in chapter headings was an addi- tional chapter on Post-traumatic headaches (headaches after a head injury) and instead of a chapter entitled “The future”, some realisation had occurred and the chapter was now “Headache clinics and the future”. Another registrar attending the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic (Dr Paul Davies) was instrumental in a book for lay persons entitled Answers to Migraine [22]. This was published between editions of Migraine, The Facts. The relationship between clinical trials, researchers and the pharmaceutical companies supporting these endeav- ours has been much discussed. Obviously the Migraine Trust, in organising symposia, had to draw a clear line between the reported results and the support they obtained in the publications with which the Trust was associated. An example of this was a Symposium held in 1981 (between the two Migraine Trust International Symposia of 1980 and 1982) at the University of Sussex. At that time the question of lack of oxygen to the brain as a cause of migraine was being investigated. The meeting was under the auspices of Janssen Research Foundation (funded by the Janssen Pharmaceutical Company of Belgium) and the Migraine Trust and their new product of flunarizine was postulated as a preventive remedy for migraine; following several scientific sections of this particular mechanism, I reported on a trial done at the Princess Margaret Migraine Clinic using flunarizine as a preventive of migraine attacks, and my conclusion was that “further studies are required to confirm the drug’s efficiency”. Although flunarizine was much used on the Continent in migraine prevention, it was not often prescribed for this purpose in the UK [10, 23]. Conclusion The frequency of publications and the numbers of papers offered at each Migraine Trust International Symposium is indicative of the rapid progress made in headache sci- ence in those years. Notes 1. Although he was later offered the post of the first Director of the Migraine Trust, he declined because it would have meant a move to London. Peter Wilson’s dedicated work was recognised official- ly in 1967 by the award of Member of the British Empire (MBE). 2. The membership now numbers several thousands. In 1997 its name was changed to the Migraine Action Association. 3. He was the brother of the author Graham, a migraine sufferer, and a Trustee. 4. The daughter of Professor Hamilton Hartridge, the famous phys- iologist, she was a graduate of King’s College Hospital and rec- ommended by Macdonald Critchley. 5. In the 1970s Macdonald Critchley asked me to join the Research Group on Headache and Migraine of the World Federation of Neurology, later to be its Secretary and finally to succeed Macdonald Critchley as its Chairman. The Research Group was limited to 30 international experts and met at the quadrennial meet- ings of the World Congress of Neurology. 6. Being one of the 12 doctors responsible for The International Headache Society Classification of Headache and Migraine, I was made a life member of the International Headache Society (IHS). 7. This brought the number of books on migraine and headache with my name on the spine to 16, a measure of how often it was necessary to record the rapidly developing research in the disorder. References 1. Smith R (1991) The Migraine Trust (1965–1990): twenty-five years of headache research. In: Rose FC (ed) New advances in headache research, Vol 2. Smith-Gordon, London 2. Smith R (1998) Dr Macdonald Critchley and the Migraine Trust: a memoir. Migraine News, Spring 3. Smith R (ed) (1967) Background to migraine. First Migraine Symposium 8–9th November 1966. Heinemann Medical Books Ltd., London 4. Critchley M (1967) Migraine: from Cappadocia to Queen Square. In: Smith R (ed) Background to migraine. First Migraine Symposium 8–9th November 1966. Heinemann Medical Books Ltd., London 5. Smith R (ed) (1969) Background to migraine: proceedings. Second Migraine Symposium. Heinemann, London 6. Cochrane AL (ed) (1970) Background to migraine: proceedings. Third Migraine Symposium. Heinemann, London 7. Cumings JN (ed) (1971) Background to migraine: proceedings. Fourth Migraine Symposium. Heinemann, London 8. Greene R (ed) (1978) Current concepts in migraine research. Raven Press, New York 9. Rose FC, Zilkha KJ (eds) (1981) Progress in migraine research. Pitman, London 10. Rose FC (ed) (1984) Progress in migraine research, 2nd Edn. Pitman, London 11. Rose FC (ed) (1985) Migraine: clinical and research advances. Karger, Basel 12. Rose FC (ed) (1988) The management of headache. Raven Press, New York 13. Rose FC (ed) (1982) Advances in migraine research and therapy. Raven Press, New York 14. Rose FC (ed) (1987) Advances in headache research. John Libbey, London 15. Rose FC (ed) (1989) New advances in headache research. Smith-Gordon, London 115 16. Rose FC (1991) Proceedings of the 8th Migraine Trust International Symposium, September 1990 17. Rose FC (1994) New advances in headache research, Vol 3. Smith- Gordon, London 18. Rose FC (1996) Towards migraine 2000. Vol 4. Elsevier, Amsterdam 19. Rose FC (1986) Handbook of clinical neurology. Vol. 4. Elsevier, Amsterdam 20. Rose FC, Gawel MJ (1981) Migraine: the facts. Oxford University Press, Oxford 21. Rose FC, Gawel MJ (2004) Migraine: practical advice to help you manage your migraine. Class Publishing, London 22. Rose FC, Davies F (1987) Answers to migraine. Macdonald Optima, London 23. Rose FC, Amery WK (1982) Cerebral hypoxia in the pathogenesis of migraine. Pitman, London Abstract Introduction Background to migraine Headache clinics Directors of the Migraine Trust The first City migraine clinic The second migraine clinic The Migraine Trust International Symposium (MTIS) Conclusion References 
work_tfmbpb73vrfylfhaui2476qboa	----	Conference Report on “Literature and Institutions” Issue 51, 28 July , 2017 Conference Report on “Literature and Institutions” International Graduate Centre for the Study of Culture (GCSC) Justus Liebig University Giessen, 20-21 June 2017 Miruna Bacali International Graduate Centre for the Study of Culture (Giessen) Contact: miruna.bacali@gcsc.uni-giessen.de How to cite: Bacali, Miruna: “Conference Report on ‘Literature and Institutions’”. In: KULT_online 51 (2017). DOI: https://doi.org/10.22029/ko.2017.156 Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online (ISSN 1868-2855) https://doi.org/10.22029/ko.2017.156 https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 2 - Conference Report on “Literature and Institutions” International Graduate Centre for the Study of Culture (GCSC) Justus Liebig University Giessen, 20-21 June 2017 Miruna Bacali International Graduate Centre for the Study of Culture (Giessen) The two-day symposium investigated the entanglements between literature and institutions, offering examples and case studies from a broad range of historical and cultural contexts. The first day opened with a welcome address by ANDREAS LANGENOHL (Giessen) in which the speaker stressed both the “interdisciplinary embrace” of the conference and the link between literature and social practices. According to Langenohl, literature as an institutionalized form of expression plays a key role in con- stituting the social imaginary. Institutions are nothing else but modes of imagining futures, since modern societies exist precisely through imaginaries. Within this constellation, literature represents a key medium of expression, in that it conveys “the difference between reality and something else”. Histories of Literary and Institutional Entanglements The first panel, dedicated to literature in early modern Europe, opened with KERSTIN DICKHAUT’s (Stuttgart) rendering of theatre as a courtly model in 17th century France. The theatrical institution functioned along the logic of simulation and dissimulation and required both social and political support. Especially within the Baroque culture of appearances, the State held a big role in theatre prestige. Additionally, theatre acted as a reflector of the Court. When it came to the authorship praxis, there was no copyright and no printing before a performance, which required authorization by the King. INGO BERENSMEYER (Giessen) then moved on to the English setting, approaching literature as a social institution that mediates literary texts. The 16th and 17th century saw a weak institutionalization, within which social prestige and honor networks played a key role. The existing institutions were rather controlling than enabling, being relatively strong in themselves, as was the case with the Church, the Law, schools, the Royal Court and the London playhouses. In contrast, the concept of literature was characterized by fluidity; it was viewed rather as a set of skills than a body of texts, and a wide variety of literary forms was cultivated. Being a writer was not yet considered a profession – many literates were supported by rich patrons of the arts. https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 3 - The second panel examined the 19th century, during which literature began to emerge as an institution. In his talk, TOM CLUCAS (Giessen) outlined the involvement of writers in public issues and debates – or, to put it with Isaac D’Israeli, the impact of literature on the public mind. During the 19th century, poets and novelists campaigned for making changes in the law, becoming increasingly involved in public issues and debates. When it comes to the link between class and institutions, Clucas argued, it could be said that literature equipped people with values that allowed them both to understand and change the country. Thus, literature began to establish itself as a herald of institutional change, gaining critical mass throughout the 19th century. FLORIAN SEDLMEIER (Berlin) started his talk with the assumption that literature cannot be understood separately from the market any longer. The market in itself establishes literature as an institution in the US, offering the epistemological preconditions for imagining the field of literature in that particular context. Unsurprisingly, literary realism lay at the center of this field, while the 19th century also witnessed an explosion of magazines. Against a European foil, US literature appears as a belated phenomenon. The third panel was dedicated to literature as an institution of criticism in the 20th century. In her talk on Gregory Corso’s Bomb (1958), SONJA SCHILLINGS (Giessen) raised the questions: How can we create institutions that are just towards all humans? What foundational premises do 20th century institutions need in order to be just? Seeing as there are no words to describe human mass destruction (other than “never again”), one is forced to ask who is in control. Gregory Corso’s poems and performances are an unconventional attempt to deal with human mass destruction, for which there are in truth no words. ANETTE SIMONIS’ talk (Giessen) focused on literature as a critical voice for examining ecological and sociopolitical questions, exemplifying her approach with poems by Durs Grünbein. His collection of pieces dedicated to animals show how the ecocritical framework can be made productive in contemporary poetry. Consumerism, Canonization, and Media Change The first conference day culminated in a keynote lecture by MARK McGURL (Stanford), in which the speaker shed light on the role and status of literature within the consumerist economy in the age of Amazon. Starting from the neoclassical concept of opportunity cost, which operates on a fundamentally temporal level, McGurl explained how today’s consumer economy is primarily driven by consumer psychology. Because of human finitude in time, fast delivery has become a key element even when it comes to one’s own reading preferences. He then zoomed in on works by Henry James and Virginia Woolf to illustrate the functioning of opportunity cost. On the second day of the conference, two panels dealt with central issues pertaining to the relationship between literature and institutional settings. THERESA STREISS’ (Giessen) talk focused on gendered https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 4 - reading, offering an overview of literary education projects specifically designed for boys. In her presentation, she showed how literary institutions can become a means of perpetuating stereotypes and social norms. DOMINIC ZECHNER (New York City) then moved on to the genre of prize acceptance speeches. Taking the recent case of Bob Dylan into account, awards seem to be an instrument of literary classification, whereas the Nobel lecture functions like a trade-off for the prize, which is being publicly claimed by the performance of a speech. A few of these speeches were even canonized, which further advances this argument. TIM SOMMER (Heidelberg) drew on the examples of Robert Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson to illustrate the tension between literature and institutions from the late 18th century onwards. Both writers were known lecturers and gained popularity as intellectuals, while however suffering organizational restrictions and fearing the institutional entrapment. The following panel was dedicated to literature and media change. MELANIE STRALLA (Wuppertal) approached the genre of textual edition as “soft media change”. Referring to the German translation of Frédéric Mistral’s Mirèio and its numerous re-editions, she analyzed the transformation that the original undergoes during translation – a transformation not only characterized by the linguistic alterations, but also by cultural contextualization. She then linked her argument to the institutional dimension, concluding that each new edition developed along with institutional requirements and demands. ANN-MARIE RIESNER (Giessen) focused on the negotiation of new aesthetics brought about by the new media in the core periods 1995-99 and from 1999 onwards. She gave an overview of the new configurations and representation modes in the genre of hyperfiction, which has by now become institutionalized. In her interpretation of Joshua Ferris’ Then We Came to an End, MICHAELA BECK (Dresden) examined the industry of advertising as media and its relationship to the novel as a genre. Literature in/and Institutions: Between Affirmation and Subversion The vivid concluding discussion gave rise to further questions. Over the course of the two conference days, literature proved to be an institution and a disruption of institutional settings at the same time, demonstrating a subversive and revolutionary potential. BURCU ALKAN (Giessen) stressed that academics are part of major institutions and should permanently reflect their own position as such. She then proceeded to question the problems of globalization and the geographies of translation that ensue. According to Alkan, there is a certain imbalance of the global voices that needs to be further addressed, since economic and ideologic decisions play a key role within this context. In reply, NATALYA BEKHTA (Helsinki) drew attention to the significant advances in the study of world literature, as proven by the work of David Damrosch, Pascale Casanova and other scholars who are increasingly focusing on the aforementioned dynamics. The hierarchies and dynamics present within the publishing system constituted another important discussion topic. Mark McGurl addressed the potential problems of open access, stressing that it makes a large number of texts available without https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 5 - guaranteeing the necessary attention and ensuring that these texts are found online. This is where institutions are able to come in, saving us time through preselection of contents. https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 6 - Program Panel 1: Literature and Institutions in Early Modern Europe Chair: Alexander Scherr • Kirsten Dickhaut (University of Stuttgart): “Instituting Theatrical Culture: The Example of the Court of Louis XIV” • Ingo Berensmeyer ( JLU Giessen): "'Manuscript, Print, Performance: Institutions of ‘Literature’ in Early Modern England" Panel 2: Literature as an Emerging Institution in the Nineteenth Century Chair: Isabel Kalous • Tom Clucas ( JLU Giessen): "‘Unacknowledged Legislators’? Literature and the State in Great Bri- tain" • Florian Sedlmeier (Freie Universität Berlin): "The Field Imagination and the Market in the United States" Panel 3. Literature as an Institution of Criticism: The Twentieth Century Chair: Elizabeth Kovach • Sonja Schillings (GCSC): "Rescaling Reality with Gregory Corso’s The Bomb" • Annette Simonis ( JLU Giessen): "Ecocriticism and Poetry: Durs Grünbein’s Poetry as Institutional Criticism" Keynote Lecture Chair: Alexandra Effe • Mark McGurl (Stanford University): "'Being and Time-Management: Fictions of Opportunity Cost in the Long Age of Amazon" Panel 4. Organizing Principles: Forms, Context, Canons Chair: Wibke Schniedermann • Teresa Streiss (GCSC): "I Am a Reading Hero: The Gender Discourse in German Literary Education" • Dominik Zechner (New York University): "A Ruhm of One’s Own: Prize-Granting and Institutional Exposure" • Tim Sommer (Heidelberg University): "19th-Century Lecture Culture and Literary Historical https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 7 - Narratives of the ‘Fall into Institutionality’" Panel 5. Literature and Media Change Chair: Laura Schlichting • Melanie Stralla (Wuppertal University): "Editing and (Con)textual Changes: A Provençal Epic in Germany" • Ann-Marie Riesner (GCSC): "From Early Hypertext Experiments to Contemporary Internet Novels: The Search for Internet Aesthetics in German-speaking Literature" • Michaela Beck (TU Dresden): "Repositioning the Novel in the 21st Century: Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End and the ‘Rise of Creative Industries’" Concluding Discussion with Burcu Alkan ( JLU Giessen), Mark McGurl (Stanford University), Tom Clucas ( JLU Giessen) Chair: Natalya Bekhta (Helsinki University) https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ KULT_online. Review Journal for the Study of Culture 50 / 2017 journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online - 8 - Miruna Bacali International Graduate Centre for the Study of Culture (Giessen) Contact: miruna.bacali@gcsc.uni-giessen.de How to cite: Bacali, Miruna: “Conference Report on ‘Literature and Institutions’”. In: KULT_online 51 (2017). DOI: https://doi.org/10.22029/ko.2017.156 https://journals.ub.uni-giessen.de/kult-online/ https://doi.org/10.22029/ko.2017.156 
work_tixrta73nregvcgv2fqjgg5fhy	----	Poetry as Eco-Vessel Copyright (c), 2017 Leonard Zawadski CC (Creative Commons) BY-NC-ND 4.0 license CC (Creative Commons) BY-NC-ND 4.0 license Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 20:59 The Trumpeter Journal of Ecosophy Poetry as Eco-Vessel Leonard Zawadski Radical Ecologies in the Anthropocene Volume 32, numéro 2, 2016 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1042996ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1042996ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Athabasca University Press ISSN 1705-9429 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce document Zawadski, L. (2016). Poetry as Eco-Vessel. The Trumpeter, 32(2), 202–203. https://doi.org/10.7202/1042996ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/trumpeter/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1042996ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1042996ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/trumpeter/2016-v32-n2-trumpeter03384/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/trumpeter/ The Trumpeter ISSN 0832-6193 Volume 32, No. 2 (2016) Leonard Zawadski 202 Poetry as Eco-Vessel Leonard Zawadski ‘build therefore your own world’ -- Ralph Waldo Emerson I. to lay one-self dow n beside the water -- in th e thick, warm grasses; residing there am ongst the ple asant -- oh, the quietude o f this! how m asterful: its shore-line, w ith these tre es up-grazing the sky; a tr ue, and beaut. II. oh, bl ue sky; oh, g reat-big, blue sky; oh, wan derer through the field of yellow days - - each flower is a day… each pebble is a year! and ocean: an eternity! and eac h is each, al so -- yes, each -- like the dew of morni. The Trumpeter ISSN 0832-6193 Volume 32, No. 2 (2016) Leonard Zawadski 203 III. how el oquent: the s tars tonight -- oh, the exp ression of th em-selves; and, how open is the sky in-w hich they sit, beside the w ide, and glea ming moon; so simple -- so complex! and how the light rests, upon t he head, whit. IV. not wi thout: the mo untain; not without: the fo rest -- and n ot without: the ocean, the desert, nor t he sky; not without: the fe ather, and th e foot-print in the mud -- so, not witho ut: the sand, the leaf, the stone, nor m. 
work_tkpzrp2tejhdlphbue3jgfbe5y	----	CME Topic Surveillance of the Colorectal Cancer Disparities Among Demographic Subgroups: A Spatial Analysis Chiehwen Ed Hsu, PhD, MPH, Francisco Soto Mas, MD, PhD, MPH, Jessica M. Hickey, MPH, Jerry A. Miller, PhD, and Dejian Lai, PhD Objective: The literature suggests that colorectal cancer mortality in Texas is distributed inhomogeneously among specific demographic subgroups and in certain geographic regions over an extended pe- riod. To understand the extent of the demographic and geographic disparities, the present study examined colorectal cancer mortality in 15 demographic groups in Texas counties between 1990 and 2001. Methods: The Spatial Scan Statistic was used to assess the stan- dardized mortality ratio, duration and age-adjusted rates of excess mortality, and their respective p-values for testing the null hypoth- esis of homogeneity of geographic and temporal distribution. Results: The study confirmed the excess mortality in some Texas counties found in the literature, identified 13 additional excess mor- tality regions, and found 4 health regions with persistent excess mortality involving several population subgroups. Conclusion: Health disparities of colorectal cancer mortality con- tinue to exist in Texas demographic subpopulations. Health educa- tion and intervention programs should be directed to the at-risk subpopulations in the identified regions. Key Words: colorectal cancer, health disparities, public health in- formatics, Geographic Information Systems, spatial analysis. In 2005, an estimated 56,290 deaths from colorectal cancerwere expected in the United States, sustaining colorectal cancer as the third leading cause of cancer-related deaths among Americans.1 Recent studies suggest that screening is effective in decreasing colorectal cancer in both incidence and mortality by early detection and removal of precancerous lesions or polyps, and enhancing survival rates among colo- rectal cancer patients.2 Colorectal cancer is one of the most preventable types of cancer when detected at an early stage.3 However, while the 5-year survival rate for colorectal cancer is around 90% for those cases detected at an early stage, only about 37% of colorectal cancers were diagnosed at an early stage in 2004.4 At the state level, between 1989 and 1998, the age-adjusted mortality rate for colorectal cancer in Texas ac- tually increased by more than 20%.3 To target prevention and intervention efforts, it is important to understand the contrib- uting risk factors for colorectal cancer affecting demographic groups living in different geographic regions. From the Department of Public and Community Health, University of Mary- land College Park, College Park, MD, and School of Health Information Sciences, University of Texas Houston Health Science Center, Houston, TX; Department of Teacher Education, College of Education, University of Texas at El Paso, El Paso, TX; Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services, Dallas Regional Office, Dallas, TX; ORISE/CDC Public Health Fellow, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, National Center on Birth Defects and Developmental Disabilities, Atlanta, GA; and the Di- vision of Biostatistics, School of Public Health, University of Texas Houston Health Science Center, Houston, TX. Reprint requests to Chiehwen Ed Hsu, PhD, University of Maryland, College Park, Department of Public and Community Health 2371 HHP Building, Valley Drive, College Park, MD 20742. Email: edhsu@umd.edu The findings and conclusions in this article are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily represent the views of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The authors have no disclosures to declare. Accepted April 3, 2006. Copyright © 2006 by The Southern Medical Association 0038-4348/0�2000/9900-0949 Key Points • Colorectal cancer mortality in Texas was found to be distributed inhomogeneously among specific demo- graphic subgroups and in certain geographic regions over an extended period. • The study confirmed the excess mortality in some Texas counties reported in the literature, identified 13 additional excess mortality regions, and found 4 health regions with persistent excess mortality involving sev- eral population subgroups. • Health disparities in colorectal cancer mortality con- tinue to exist in Texas demographic subpopulations. Health education and intervention programs should be enhanced to address the at-risk subpopulations in the identified regions. Southern Medical Journal • Volume 99, Number 9, September 2006 949 State-level studies in Texas have found that colorectal cancer mortality disproportionately burdened population sub- groups defined by certain demographic characteristics, such as age, gender, race/ethnicity, and by residential distribution. In terms of age, more than 90% of colorectal cancer cases are diagnosed in people aged 50 and older.3 Regarding gender, epidemiologic data indicate that there is a pronounced vari- ation in the risk of colorectal cancer by gender, with men at a greater risk of colorectal cancer mortality than women. Between 1984 and 1996, the averaged Texas age-adjusted mortality rate from colon cancer for males was 17.64, and for females 12.18 per 100,000 people.5 The disparities on colo- rectal cancer mortality by gender have widened in recent years. In 2003, the American Cancer Society reported that the age-adjusted colorectal cancer mortality rate in Texans rose to 26.1 per 100,000 for men and 17.4 per 100,000 for wom- en.4 These rates paralleled national statistics of age-adjusted colorectal cancer mortality rates for men (25.8/100,000) and for women (18.0/100,000).4 Risk of colorectal cancer also varies by race and ethnicity. National data suggested that African Americans (both female and male) have the highest age-adjusted mortality rate when compared with other sub- groups. Current Surveillance, Epidemiology and End Results (SEER) data from the National Cancer Institute indicate that the age-adjusted colorectal cancer mortality rate for African Americans is 28.5 per 100,000, compared with 20.7 per 100,000 for whites in the same year.6 The disparity trend appeared to hold true by gender and race. Between 1970 and 1994, age-adjusted colon cancer mortality in Texas was 16.57 for white males versus 12.20 for white females, and 21.46 for black males versus 17.22 for black females per 100,000.7 A study reported in the Southern Medical Journal indicated that between 1980 and 1990, colorectal cancer mortality in Texas increased at a statistically significant level, notably in Afri- can-American and Hispanic males.8 In terms of geographic distribution of mortality, the (Dallas-Fort Worth) Metroplex, Gulf Coast, Central and Southwest Texas areas, namely the Public Health Regions, or PHR 3, 5, 6, and 7, had the highest age-adjusted mortality rates for colorectal cancer9 (refer to figures for Public Health Regions). In addition, several Tex- as-specific cancer studies confirmed that cancer mortality has unevenly burdened residents in specific geographic regions over an extended period of time.10,11,12 Cooper and col- leagues8 reported that excess colorectal cancer mortality dis- proportionally affected certain racial and ethnic groups be- tween 1980 and 1991. The affected regions included the Houston/Harris County area for non-Hispanic white men and women, and the Victoria Area for Hispanic men, all in PHR Region 6. Zhan and Lin11 confirmed the excess of colon cancer mortality among the general population in the South- west, Gulf Coast and Metroplex Regions of Texas from 1990 to 1997. To develop effective colorectal cancer prevention inter- ventions for at-risk populations, it is important to understand how the excess mortality is distributed among population subgroups in different regions, and estimate the persistence of the excess mortality in terms of whether the trend of excess continues. The purpose of this study was to further determine and quantify the geographic variation of colorectal mortality in subgroups of Texas residents. The present study examined the areas of excess colorectal cancer mortality among 15 Texas population subgroups by gender, race/ethnicity and their combinations between 1990 and 2001, to compare and contrast the results with the published literature. This infor- mation could prove beneficial for the allocation of resources and development of preventive interventions directed toward at-risk population groups. Methods Data for analysis included 16 age groups (group 1, aged 0 – 4; group 2, 5–9... to group 16, 75�), two gender groups, and the 4 major population subgroups in Texas (non-Hispanic white, blacks, Hispanics and “other”). First, a “Case File” was created to store colorectal cancer death cases, and the corresponding race, gender and age group by ethnicity. The data of counts were based on ICD-9 codes 153 to 154 for colorectal cancer in the study years 1990 to 1998, and ICD-10 codes C18-C21 for the years 1999 to 2001. The ICD-10 clas- sification includes cancer deaths of colon, rectum and anus, cancer of the rectosigmoid junction and rectum, and cancer of the anus and anal canal. The data were collected from a publicly available cancer mortality source (Expert Health Data Programming Incorporated’s Texas Vitalweb. Available at: http://www.ehdp.com). Second, a “Population File” was cre- ated to store the population by county, and the corresponding race, gender and age group by ethnicity for each of the study years. For intercensal years, population estimate data was obtained from the Texas Population Center of Texas A&M University. Finally, a third file, the “Geographic File,” was created. This file contained data from the U.S. Census Bureau (http://www.cdc.gov/epiinfo/usa/tx.exe), including the longi- tudinal and latitudinal information on all 254 county cen- troids of Texas. The information was used as a proxy for the geographic location of each county. The excess colorectal cancer mortality, as measured by the geographic concentra- tion of mortality in relation to other regions over an extended period, were detected using the SaTScan software18 version 4.0 (Available at: http://www.satscan.org). The software per- forms spatial-temporal analysis adjusting for covariates such as age, gender and race/ethnicity. Our study was modeled after a study by Kulldorff and colleagues,13 who had applied the spatial scan statistic in examining cancer burdens in the Los Alamos region of New Mexico. The same methodology has been widely applied in public health studies that inves- tigated behavior-related diseases,14 –16 and for analysis of spa- tial distributions of health outcomes data in Texas, including colon cancer mortality,11 breast cancer10 and accidental poi- Hsu et al • Surveillance of the Colorectal Cancer Disparities Among Demographic Subgroups 950 © 2006 Southern Medical Association soning disparities.17 The stepwise procedures were reported by the authors elsewhere.10,17 SaTScan employs the Monte- Carlo simulation to conduct hypothesis testing, which can differentiate areas with unequal cancer mortality burden. In the present study, statistical significance was established at the 0.05 level without adjusting the significance level due to multiple comparisons. In addition, a space-time relationship was examined between the colorectal cancer mortality rate and the defined geographic area being studied (ie, a county). The null hypothesis of the homogenous Poisson process for this study provides that when no covariates are being consid- ered, the expected deaths for each county are proportional to the population of that county area and that there is an absence of time trend. The alternative hypothesis is that the deaths are not homogenously distributed (or not exactly proportional to the population in the same geographic area), and/or there is a presence of temporal trend in the inhomogeneous distribution of health outcomes. The study used a parameter “50% of population at risk” in which a cluster, if detected, would comprise at most, 50% of the study population. The param- eter was proposed by Kulldorff13 as an optimal setting. The temporal setting of clusters was set at 90%, meaning that a detected cluster would include a maximum of 90% of the study period (ie, up to a maximum of 10 years), while time is treated nonparametrically, ie, as an indicator variable to make sure the clusters are not an artifact of temporal trend. This spatial-temporal analysis also includes a “spatial only” anal- ysis that allowed the examination of cross-sectional preva- lence of colorectal cancer deaths over the entire study period (12 years). A brief review of scan statistics and their appli- cations to ecological studies and environmental sciences is available by Patil and Taillie.18 The Poisson model is appli- cable in this study of colorectal cancer because the analysis involved small numbers of cases against larger population denominators, as is often the case with cancer. This is par- ticularly true for the state of Texas, where in 2003 the age- adjusted mortality rate for colorectal cancer was estimated at 26.1 per 100,000 for males and 17.4 per 100,000 for females.1 Both rates are relatively small in terms of the number of deaths in the numerator and the population at risk in the denominator. All rates are age-standardized and stratified for each of 16 groups using indirect standardization. The SaTScan analysis produced the metrics useful for quantifying spatial clustering and estimating excess mortality in each group. These measurements included the P value, standardized mortality ratio (SMR), the age-adjusted rate, and the duration of excess. They were then imported into ArcGIS 8.0 software to produce Geographic Information Systems (GIS) maps, so as to present a visual illustration of the actual disparity for colorectal cancer mortality by Texas county ex- cess mortality. For the purpose of analysis, we color-shaded the detected regions of excess mortality with dissolved county boundaries overlaid with the geographic boundary file of 11 Texas Public Health Regions (PHR). Results This study included 390,144 records in both the case file and population file in the 254 Texas counties between 1990 and 2001. The overall mortality trends and specific geographic variations by subgroups are presented below. For the 12-year study period, there were 37,596 deaths attributable to colo- rectal cancer, resulting in an age-adjusted rate of 16.5 per 100,000. Males had higher age-and-race adjusted mortality Table 1. Characteristics of study population and deaths, Texas 1990 –2001 Population Average total population (%) Cumulative deaths (%) Annual age-adjusted rate (per 100,000) All 18,974,226 100 37,596 100 16.5 Male 9,388,316 49.48 19,133 50.89 17.0 Female 9,585,911 50.52 18,463 49.11 16.1 Black 2,205,661 11.62 5,283 14.05 20.0 Male 1,068,714 5.63 2,589 6.89 20.2 Female 1,136,947 5.99 2,694 7.17 19.7 Hispanic 5,342,242 28.16 4,313 11.47 6.7 Male 2,696,015 14.21 2,500 6.65 7.7 Female 2,646,227 13.95 1,813 4.82 5.7 Non-Hispanic White 10,946,960 57.69 27,745 73.80 21.1 Male 5,384,897 28.38 13,925 37.04 21.5 Female 5,562,063 29.31 13,820 36.76 20.7 Other 479,363 2.53 255 0.68 4.4 Male 240,673 1.27 136 0.36 4.7 Female 238,690 1.26 119 0.32 4.2 CME Topic Southern Medical Journal • Volume 99, Number 9, September 2006 951 rates of 17.0 per 100,000 than females of 16.1 per 100,000. Table 1 summarizes the demographic characteristics of the study population in Texas. When compared across major racial groups, non-His- panic whites, blacks, Hispanics, and others had age-adjusted rates of 21.1, 20.0, 6.7, and 4.4 per 100,000 respectively. Mortality disparities by gender among the selected racial/ ethnic groups were apparent: age-adjusted mortality rates for female non-Hispanic whites, blacks, Hispanics and others were 20.7, 19.7, 5.7 and 4.7 per 100,000; and for male non- Hispanic whites, blacks, Hispanics and others were 21.5, 20.2, 7.7 and 4.2 respectively. Table 2 summarizes the measurements of excess mortal- ity by SMR, P value, age-adjusted rate, and the duration of excess for each of 15 population groups. To determine po- tential excess mortality, we present color-shaded excess mor- tality regions in Figure 1. A “most likely” or “secondary” excess region is identified based on the values of 1) statistical significance, 2) a high SMR, 3) age-adjusted rate, and 4) excess mortality regions that persisted through most recent years (ie, year 2001). Among the 15 combined groups of gender, race and race-by-gender examined in the study, 13 public health regions* were identified with an excess colo- rectal cancer mortality of statistical significance. The major- ity of the areas of excess mortality were located throughout the Southeastern region of Texas and in the (Dallas-Fort Worth) Metroplex (involving 8 groups) and North East Texas (involving 4 groups). In terms of age-adjusted rates, black males in the counties near Metroplex and Central Texas pre- sented the highest mortality rate (37.3/100,000) with the high- est SMR (RR � 1.84); however, the excess mortality oc- curred only one year in 1996, and it was not statistically significant (P � 0.926). Non-Hispanic white males also pre- sented a significant excess mortality, with rates of 28.6 and 24.8 per 100,000 in 1990 to 1994 and 1997 to 1999 respec- tively, followed by the “all male” group with a rate of 24.7 per 100,000 (RR � 1.45) between 2000 and 2001. Other female and male groups did not present statistically signifi- cant excess mortality. In terms of most recent excess mortal- *In this study, the reference of Texas public health regions follows the conventional naming system used by the Texas Health and Human Ser- vices Regions (THHS, 2005). Available at: http://www.hhs.state.tx.us/ aboutHHS/HHS_Regions.shtml. Accessed: July 10, 2005. Table 2. Potential excess mortality a by subgroup and geographic region (PHR) Population subgroups Years (duration) No. of deaths Annual age adjusted rate/ 100,000 P value Standardized mortality rate PHR Figure 1 label Spatiotemporal excess mortality All population, A 1990–1997(8) 7,544 17.5 0.002 1.06 PHR 5–8,11 1.1 A All population, B 1993–2000(8) 1,096 19.5 0.003 1.18 PHR 3–4 1.1 B All males, A 1991–1994(4) 1,579 19.4 0.007 1.14 PHR 5–8, 11 1.2 A All male, B 2000–2001(2) 197 24.7 0.035 1.45 PHR 3–4, 7 1.2 B All females 1991–1999(9) 927 19.4 0.001 1.21 PHR 3–4 1.3 Non-Hispanic white females 1994–2001(8) 1,878 23.5 0.002 1.14 PHR 3–7 1.7 Non-Hispanic white males, A 1990–1994(5) 1,489 24.8 0.001 1.15 PHR 6–8, 11 1.10A Non-Hispanic white males, B 1997–1999(3) 367 28.6 0.009 1.33 PHR 2–3, 7, 9 1.10B Black, male 1996–1996(1) 41 37.3 0.926 1.84 PHR 3, 7 1.11 Other male 1993–1993(1) 2 440.4 0.449 106 PHR 3 – Other female 2000–2001(2) 5 61.3 0.267 13.00 PHR 2 – Spatial only All non-Hispanic whites 1990–2001(12) 11,588 22.2 0.001 1.05 PHR 3–4 1.4 All black 1990–2001(12) 1,542 22.1 0.084 1.11 PHR 2–4 1.5 All Hispanics 1990–2001(12) 1,837 8.00 0.001 1.19 PHR 6–9, 11 1.6 Black, female 1990–2001(12) 848 22.8 0.027 1.16 PHR 2–4 1.8 Hispanic females 1990–2001(12) 729 6.8 0.001 1.19 PHR 6–8, 11 1.9 Hispanic males 1990–2001(12) 1,062 9.3 0.001 1.21 PHR 6–9,11 1.12 a Excess mortality is defined as up to 50% of study population, with temporal persistence for up to 90% of the study years, including purely spatial clusters adjusting for temporal effect nonparametrically. PHR, Texas Public Health Region as defined by the Texas Department of Health and Human Services. http://www.hhs.state.tx.us/aboutHHS/HHS_regions.shtml Hsu et al • Surveillance of the Colorectal Cancer Disparities Among Demographic Subgroups 952 © 2006 Southern Medical Association ity, 8 groups presented persistent mortality rates through 2001; seven of them with a SMR of less than 1.2 and thus negligi- ble, except for the one which occurred in the “all males” group (described above) in PHR 3, 4 and 7. In terms of disparity by gender, between 1990 and 2001, Hispanic fe- males in PHR 6 to 9 and 11 were at 1.19 SMR compared with those in other regions, while the age-adjusted rate was only 6.8/100,000; non-Hispanic white males in PHR 2 to 3, 7 and 9 had the highest (RR � 1.33) age adjusted rate (28.6/100,000) between 1997 and 1999 that demonstrated statistical signifi- cance. Figure 1 presents the Texas regions of excess mortality by gender and demographic subgroups. Discussion This study presents an overall colorectal cancer trend and outlines the specific geographic variations among demo- Fig. 1 (continued). Fig. 1 Potential excess colorectal cancer mortality in Texas public health regions by population and subgroups, 1990 to 2001. CME Topic Southern Medical Journal • Volume 99, Number 9, September 2006 953 graphic subgroups over an extended period. In terms of over- all trend, between 1990 and 2001 there was a pronounced variation in mortality by gender. The age-adjusted mortality rate for females increased significantly (16.1/100,000 —an increase of 33% when compared with the rates based on 1984-1996 data of 12.18 per 100,000), while that of males was somewhat reduced (17.00 versus 17.64). This suggests that the disparities in the mortality trend between females and males continued. While males still have high mortality, the gap appears to have narrowed over the recent years. This could possibly reflect a secular or cohort trend of increased incidence of colorectal cancer in females from environmen- tal/dietary causes, reduced screening among females, or both. In contrast with other races, non-Hispanic white female mor- tality increased by 68% in comparison to the 1970 to 1994 period, and for blacks by 14.4% in the same period. In addi- tion, among all race/ethnicity groups, only females in the “other” category exceeded males in the age-adjusted mortal- ity rate; however, regions of excess mortality detected in the “other” group were not statistically significant. Consistent with the results of a previous study examining cancer data among Texas counties,10 for the “other” group the age-ad- justed rate (female � 61.3/100,000 and male � 440.4/ 100,000) and SMR (female � 13.00 and male � 106) were artificially inflated due to the small denominators of both population subgroups. In terms of geotemporal distribution, several PHRs pre- sented persistent excess colorectal cancer mortality through the present decade affecting multiple groups, notably in Pub- lic Health Region 3, 4, 6, and 7, which includes the Dallas- Fort Worth and Houston metropolitan regions. The results of this study confirmed most of the previ- ously reported areas of excess colorectal mortality in the Southwest, Gulf Coast, part of Central Texas PHRs and Kauff- man County between 1990 and 1997.11 We found that in the Southwest, Gulf Coast and part of Central Texas regions, the excess mortality primarily affected both male and female non- black populations, and confirmed that the trend discontinued in 1997. On the other hand, in Kauffman and neighboring counties, excess mortality primarily affected non-Hispanic females and black males through 2001. This excess also in- volved the North Metroplex and Upper East Texas PHRs, affecting both non-Hispanic white and black females, with the trend persisting between 1990 and 2001. Compared with the findings based on 1980 to 1990 data,8 the excess mortality affecting black males might have ceased in 1996 because the excess mortality in this group was no longer statistically sig- nificant. On the other hand, the excess mortality detected among Hispanic males in the South and Lower South Texas PHRs reported by Cooper and colleagues8 was found to have persisted between 1990 and 2001 at a moderate and statisti- cally significant level (RR � 1.21) in this study. Ongoing monitoring and preventive interventions are warranted to avoid the temporal trend of excess mortality from continuing. In addition, this study further confirms the finding by the Texas Cancer Data Center5 regarding the identification of the 4 PHRs with the highest colorectal cancer mortality rate in Texas. The regions detected with excess mortality are prime targets for additional demographic studies to identify other disparities related to health care and access to quality colo- rectal cancer preventive and treatment services. The findings of this study may inform agencies such as the State Cancer Council, as well as cancer advocacy groups in developing strategic planning for colorectal cancer. These findings are significant, current, and consistent with other studies and, therefore, may provide insight for the development of inter- ventions that intend to address the disparities of colorectal cancer mortality among demographic groups. The spatial and temporal analysis method has been employed to investigate other disease incidence or mortality14 –16 which may provide directions for advancing cancer prevention and control poli- cies. This study renders several research questions that war- rant further discussion. First, a potential problem of data re- liability is the change from ICD-9-CM to ICD-10-CM codes implemented in 1999. The literature has suggested that changes in coding practices due to the transition has inevita- bly introduced under- or over-representation of cases or counts to an extent that may bias research results.19,20 In the present study the ICD-9 codes only included colorectal data, while ICD-10 codes included cancer of the colon, rectum and anus; cancer of the rectosigmoid junction and rectum; and cancer of the anus and anal canal. One may expect the more inclusive cancers to be reported with the ICD 10 codes, which may in turn result in the detection of relative excess mortality after 1999. However, the results of our study suggest that the changes in coding did not shift the temporal mortality trend toward 1999 and after, because in comparison with other periods, no substantial increase of mortality occurred begin- ning in 1999, or in between 1999 and 2001. Second, the present study introduces spatiotemporal anal- ysis as an attempt to quantify colorectal cancer disparities and focus intervention efforts on targeted regions and popula- tions. By doing so it prompts additional research questions that warrant further clarification. For example, to determine potential excess mortality that may warrant preventive inter- ventions, the present study focused on the regions with excess mortality of statistical significance, with a high SMR and age-adjusted rate that persisted through the most recent years. The addition of the temporal dimension has the strengthening effect of smoothing the rates in a cluster over time, and could give clues to colorectal cancer etiology or long-term risk factors. On the other hand, this approach to quantifying colo- rectal cancer mortality burden, though adequate for this study, does not provide a precise quantification of disparities. Future research could seek to model the disparity burden by, for example, developing a composite index that combines several Hsu et al • Surveillance of the Colorectal Cancer Disparities Among Demographic Subgroups 954 © 2006 Southern Medical Association measurements such as SMR, adjusted rate, and duration of excess health to better quantify the magnitude of the dispar- ities in a multivariate context. Third, further analysis should be conducted among at- risk population subgroups identified in this study and in the literature. For example, the Texas Cancer Council has re- ported that more than 90% of colorectal cancer patients were diagnosed at age 50 and older. Incidence rates are six times higher among persons aged 65 years and older than for those aged 50 to 64 years, and more than 70% of all newly diag- nosed colorectal cancers occurred in persons aged 65 years and older.3 Therefore, additional analysis may be directed to these high-risk age groups to determine the magnitude and spatial distribution of both incidence and mortality for colo- rectal cancer. In addition, although this study did not find any hot-spot excess mortality region (ie, those with SMR � 2.0), further studies should be conducted to explore how policy changes or new screening or treatment methods for colorectal cancer may affect the disease distribution among populations, and in turn affect the geographic distribution of excess mor- tality. For example, Medicare has covered some screening tests for colorectal cancer since 1998, but as of 2001, it has covered all recommended colorectal cancer screening tests through Part B of the program, which covers the 65 and older population. Further studies may examine recent data to ex- plore the effect of screening coverage on colorectal health by demographic groups. Fourth, efforts should be directed to study “other” de- mographic subgroups. The present study, consistent with the literature, found that males generally have higher mortality rates than females across most race/ethnicity subgroups, with the exception of the females in the “other” racial category which exceeded males in terms of age-adjusted rates. This may suggest that females in the “other” category experience additional barriers to health care access. The “federal stan- dards for maintaining, collecting, and presenting federal data on race and ethnicity” (OMB Statistical Directive 15) pro- vides for the collection and reporting of health data by 6 races21 (including American Indian or Alaska Native, Asian, black or African-American, Native Hawaiian, Pacific Is- lander, and white) and two ethnicities (Hispanic or Latino versus non-Hispanic or Latino). Misclassification of race/eth- nicity may account for some persons being categorized as “other,” in which case the mortality rates for correctly cate- gorized race/ethnicities may be over- or underestimated, al- though how this affects the detection of clusters (ie, relative rates between racial/ethnic groups) remains unclear. Misclas- sification can come from two sources: census and cancer registry. State health reporting authorities should seek to dis- aggregate the “other” category and include those population subgroups not otherwise included. The disaggregation of the “other” group health data may be particularly urgent for the Asian population, which is among the fastest growing sub- group in the U.S. according to the Census 2000, and is con- fronting many clear and present epidemic challenges. Conclusion The findings for the total population group were rela- tively consistent with previous studies in that most of the excess mortality was identified in the Southeast (around Har- ris County encompassing the city of Houston) region and Metroplex (around Dallas County) of Texas. In addition, the present study identified several regions of potential excess mortality among racial groups that have not been previously reported. In particular, several demographic groups warrant particular notice, including the male population in PHR 3 to 4 and 7 (RR � 1.45, rate � 24.7/100,000, between 2000 and 2001), and the other 7 population subgroups with excess mor- tality trends persisting to the present decade. In addition, the multiple population groups in Public Health Regions 3, 4, 6, 9 and 11 have experienced persistent excess mortality over time, which warrants further investigation. Overall, this study provides evidence that the spatiotemporal analysis for differ- entiation of excess mortality among age, gender and race/ ethnic groups constitutes a potentially relevant method for public health planning and health disparities studies. The find- ings of demographic disparities of the disease may assist state health authorities in updating their action plans, as they are both significant and current. The spatiotemporal analysis should be considered for developing prevention and interven- tion programs for addressing the demographic disparities of colorectal cancer mortality, given the limited resources, in- creased racial/ethnic diversity and aging of the population of the state of Texas, with which to confront the disproportional burden of this disease. References 1. American Cancer Society. Overview: Colon and Rectum Cancer. How Many People Get Colorectal Cancer (online). Available at: http://www. cancer.org/docroot/CRI/content/CRI_2_2_1X_How_Many_People_ Get_Colorectal_Cancer.asp. Accessed August 1, 2005. 2. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Colorectal cancer test use among persons aged �50 years—United States, 2001. MMWR Morb Mortal Wkly Rep 2003;52:193–196. 3. Texas Cancer Council. Action Plan on Colorectal Cancer for the State of Texas, 2000. Available at: http://www.tcc.state.tx.us/colonplan/index. html. Accessed August 1, 2005. 4. American Cancer Society Cancer Facts & Figures, 2004: A Sourcebook for Planning and Implementing Programs for Cancer Prevention and Control. Available at: http://www.cancer.org/docroot/COM/content/ div_TX/COM_12x_Texas_Facts_and_Figures_2002-2003.asp. Accessed August 1, 2005. 5. Texas Cancer Data Center. Impact of cancer on Texas Sixth Edition. Available at: http://www.tcc.state.tx.us/impact/pg83b_2.html Accessed July 10, 2005. 6. US National Cancer Institute. Surveillance, Epidemiology and End Re- sults. Available at: http://seer.cancer.gov Accessed July 10, 2005. 7. US National Cancer Institute. Cancer Mortality Maps and Graphs. Avail- able at: http://cancercontrolplanet.cancer.gov/atlas. Accessed July 10, 2005. CME Topic Southern Medical Journal • Volume 99, Number 9, September 2006 955 8. Cooper SP, Sigurdson A, Labarthe D, et al. Assessing the burden of cancer in Texas using vital statistics data. South Med J 1998;91:173–181. 9. Texas Cancer Registry Online. Cancer Mortality Data. Available at: http://www.dshs.state.tx.us/default/shtm. Accessed February, 2004. 10. Hsu C, Jacobson H, Soto Mas F. Evaluating the disparity of female breast cancer mortality among racial groups—a spatiotemporal analysis. Int J Health Geogr 2004;3:4. 11. Zhan FB, Lin H. Geographic patterns of cancer mortality clusters in Texas, 1990 to 1997. Tex Med 2003;99:58–64. 12. Zhan FB. Are deaths from liver cancer, kidney cancer, and leukemia clustered in San Antonio? Tex Med 2002;98:51–56. 13. Kulldorff M, Athas WF, Feurer EJ, et al. Evaluating cluster alarms: a space-time scan statistic and brain cancer in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Am J Public Health 1998;88:1377–1380. 14. Green C, Hoppa RD, Young TK, et al. Geographic analysis of diabetes prevalence in an urban area. Soc Sci Med 2003;57:551–560. 15. Hanson CE, Wieczorek WF. Alcohol mortality: a comparison of spatial clustering methods. Soc Sci Med 2002;55:791–802. 16. Green C, Hoppa RD, Young TK, et al. Geographic analysis of diabetes prevalence in an urban area. Soc Sci Med 2003;57:551–560. 17. Nkhoma ET, Hsu CE, Hunt VI, et al. Detecting spatiotemporal clusters of accidental poisoning mortality among Texas counties, U.S., 1980- 2001. Int J Health Geogr 2004;3:25. 18. Patil GP, Taillie C. Geographic and network surveillance via scan statistics for critical area detection. Statistical Science 2003;18:457–465. Available at: http://projecteuclid.org/Dienst/UI/1.0/Summarize/euclid. ss/1081443229. 19. Lahti RA, Vuori E. Fatal drug poisonings: medico-legal reports and mortality statistics. Forensic Sci Int 2003;136:35–46. 20. Lahti RA, Vuori E. Fatal alcohol poisoning: medico-legal practices and mortality statistics. Forensic Sci Int 2002;126:203–209. 21. Federal Register. OMB Statistical Directive 15. Standards for maintain- ing, collecting, and presenting federal data on race and ethnicity. Octo- ber 30, 1997. Available at: http://www.doi.gov/diversity/doc/racedata. htm. Accessed July 10, 2005. Please see James Wooten’s editorial on page 915 of this issue. We find a delight in the beauty and happiness of chil- dren that makes the heart too big for the body. —Ralph Waldo Emerson Hsu et al • Surveillance of the Colorectal Cancer Disparities Among Demographic Subgroups 956 © 2006 Southern Medical Association 
work_to4ddnz5wzhqbhqhhkadahqbea	----	O QUE RESTOU DO “SONHO AMERICANO”? O que restou do sonho americano 127 O QUE RESTOU DO “SONHO AMERICANO”? Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis UFMG Se procurar você acaba encontrando Não a explicação (duvidosa) da vida, Mas a poesia (inexplicável) da vida. Carlos Drummond de Andrade I. “People fancy they hate poetry and they are all poets and mystics.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson) Em 1999, por ocasião das comemorações dos 50 anos da primeira montagem de sua peça mais famosa, Death of a Sales- man, Arthur Miller manifestou sua decepção com a situação do teatro no mundo contemporâneo: em lugar de se manter como veículo de reflexão sobre a história e a sociedade, o drama, em especial aquele produzido na Broadway, só consegue um financiamento para sua produção quando se trata de um musical ou quando conta com a presença de alguma estrela em seu elenco. Assim, para Miller, enquanto, no passado, muitas das personagens emblemáticas da cultura originaram-se no teatro, atualmente elas nascem do cinema. A posição antes ocupada por figuras chave para a compreensão da cultura ocidental do século XX, como o vendedor fracassado Willy Loman, personagem central da peça de 128 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis Miller, agora pertence a personagens cinematográficos que se tornam cada vez mais familiares ao grande público. Embora lamente a mudança de estatuto do teatro, o dramaturgo parece conformado com a situação, constatando o final do período áureo de centros como a Broadway, que, em sua opinião, conseguia, há algumas décadas, reunir um público heterogêneo, de tal forma que poderia representar o povo de forma análoga ao que acontecia na Inglaterra na época de Shakespeare. Hoje em dia, paralelamente à diminuição do interesse pelo teatro, o aumento do preço dos ingressos, limita a freqüência aos grandes teatros; para Miller, “[q]uanto mais restrito o público, mais se restringem as peças que o agradam”. E conclui: “Um ingresso que custa 40 dólares não aceita filosofias, tendendo, ao contrário, a banalidades” (Roudané 1985, p. 388). Se levarmos em conta a capacidade que atualmente os produtos da indústria cinematográfica têm de alcançarem um público amplo, tanto em termos espaciais quanto econômico-sociais, o cinema poderia agora funcionar como um instrumento mais efetivo para aqueles que Miller chama de “poetas-filósofos”, mesmo tendo em vista o número reduzido de espectadores interessados em obras que busquem mais do que o simples entretenimento. Na verdade, embora prefira claramente o teatro, Miller não ficou imune ao poder do cinema, como demonstra o fato de ter transformado The Crucible em roteiro, tendo lutado durante três anos para conseguir um diretor que se dispusesse a filmá-lo¾ felizmente, segundo afirma Miller, pôde contar com Nick Hytner, cuja experiência no teatro fez com que ele não se intimidasse frente à importância que a dramaturgia confere à linguagem, valorizando-a também no filme (Miller 1997, p. viii). Assim, a supremacia do cinema não significa o fim do teatro ou a ruptura de uma tradição, mas, em muitos casos, a retomada do arquivo da literatura dramática usando o filme como suporte e promovendo um diálogo produtivo entre teatro e cinema a fim de abordar questões cruciais da contemporaneidade. Entre estas certamente sobressaem as conseqüências do capitalismo na vida de indivíduos de sociedades diversas: com o O que restou do sonho americano 129 avanço avassalador do capitalismo através da globalização econômica, o chamado “sonho americano” deixou de caracterizar apenas a sociedade dos Estados Unidos, espalhando-se por grande parte do mundo. Isto faz com que os efeitos dolorosos da luta por esse sonho ultrapassem as fronteiras norte-americanas, adquirindo um caráter endêmico e transnacional. Isto explicaria o sucesso e a relevância de Death of a Salesman em épocas e locais diversos (por exemplo, na China, onde a peça foi co-dirigida pelo próprio autor) e a importância alcançada pelas comemorações de seu cinqüentenário em 1999. Explica também, em parte, o sucesso do filme mais premiado e debatido nesse mesmo ano: American Beauty, dirigido por Sam Mendes e com roteiro de Alan Ball, pode ser lido como uma versão pós-moderna da tragédia de Willy Loman, vendedor fracassado, herói medíocre da peça de Miller. II. “Hitch your wagon to a star” (R.W. Emerson) Como se sabe, o “sonho americano” consiste na crença de que os Estados Unidos são inerentemente a terra da oportunidade, o país em que qualquer um pode galgar posições sociais e até mesmo se tornar o presidente da nação; o lugar em que o sucesso é um direito a ser reivindicado por qualquer cidadão que seja bem relacionado e benquisto¾ nas palavras de Willy Loman, “o que é maravilhoso neste país é que um homem pode acabar conseguindo diamantes apenas por ser querido” (Miller 1976, p. 86). Isso porque “[a] única coisa que se tem neste mundo é aquilo que se pode vender” (p. 97), como afirma Charley, vizinho de Willy. O corolário dessa crença de que qualquer um pode alcançar sucesso e prosperidade através do esforço, aliado a uma alta dose de marketing pessoal, acaba sendo a conclusão de que o culpado de um eventual fracasso é apenas o indivíduo. Como o sucesso financeiro é visto como o 130 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis único sinal de valor social ou de realização pessoal, não se apresentam soluções alternativas que resguardem a auto-estima de quem não conseguiu acumular bens. Sendo um vendedor, Willy Loman representa a figura arquetípica americana, em especial o materialismo associado ao desenvolvimento econômico que se seguiu à 2ª Guerra Mundial e que resultou na hegemonia dos Estados Unidos. Como Miller observou em uma entrevista, O “sonho americano” é a tela, em geral não percebida, diante da qual toda a escrita americana se encena–a tela da perfectibilidade do homem. Qualquer um que esteja escrevendo nos Estados Unidos está usando o “sonho americano” como um pólo irônico de sua história. (...) Afinal, as histórias que nos contam grande número de obras literárias significativas são sobre algum tipo de fracasso (...) em relação a essa tela, a esse pano de fundo. (Roudané 1985, p. 374) No entanto, esse lado materialista do “sonho americano” precisa ser entendido em conjunto com sua contraparte positiva e idealista, embora igualmente imaginária, e que tem suas raízes nos princípios do Transcendentalismo, em especial na confiança ilimitada no poder do homem de se transformar e de transformar a realidade natural e social, bem como na idealização da natureza, vista não só como a representação daquilo que o ser humano tem de melhor, mas também, em última análise, como uma criação individual e como busca pela beleza. O “sonho americano” confunde-se, assim, por um lado, com o individualismo inspirado na idéia emersoniana de autoconfiança [self-reliance] e de idealização da natureza, e, por outro, com a ideologia capitalista, também baseada no individualismo, bem como no sucesso material e na importância exagerada conferida à profissão que se exerce— como é esta que determina a identidade pessoal, todos os outros papéis desempenhados na vida são vistos como menos importantes. Daí o título da peça de Miller, que apresenta o último dia da vida do O que restou do sonho americano 131 vendedor Willy Loman, herói medíocre, que fracassa como pessoa, pai e marido ao perseguir até a morte o fantasma do sucesso. Na verdade, Willy literalmente dá a vida pelo sucesso que só o dinheiro representaria: ao se ver desempregado por não mais conseguir um desempenho profissional satisfatório, Willy conclui que “a gente acaba valendo mais morto do que vivo” (Miller 1976, p. 98), o que o leva a um gesto desesperado, que ele entende como sendo heróico, isto é, cometer suicídio para que a família receba seu seguro de vida–um sacrifício inútil, mais patético do que trágico, já que constitui mais uma falcatrua que será facilmente detectada. Ao final da peça, o filho mais velho observa que o pai “teve os sonhos errados” (p. 138). Já o outro endossa o projeto de vida paterno: “Ele teve um sonho digno, o único sonho que vale a pena ter: ser o número um.” (p. 139). Loman sonhou com grandes vendas, prosperidade e reconhecimento social; no entanto, aos 63 anos, exausto, endividado e à beira de perder o emprego, recusa- se a abandonar as ilusões, e sua mente vagueia entre momentos de lucidez e de devaneios. Seus filhos não se saíram melhor e, embora já adultos, não conseguiram atingir autonomia emocional ou financeira, vivendo de pequenos expedientes, incapazes de assumir a própria vida. Toda a ação se passa numa casa no Brooklyn cuja hipoteca ainda não foi totalmente paga, mas que já está decadente e abafada pelos edifícios ao seu redor: no jardim já sem árvores, Willy tenta pateticamente plantar algumas sementes, mas nada mais floresce em meio à desolação e à aridez do bairro invadido pela degradação urbana. A descrição do cenário chama a atenção para o contraste entre “a luz azul do céu que recai sobre a casa e a frente do palco” e “o raivoso brilho alaranjado” projetado pelos edifícios, que constituem “uma abóbada sólida de prédios de apartamentos ao redor da casa pequena, de aparência frágil” (p.11). Ao encenar a tragédia do homem comum, como indica a própria escolha do nome de Willy Loman, Miller procura não só criticar o “sonho americano”, mas também o modo como o capitalismo produz novos modelos ideológicos que acabam por distorcer o 132 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis modelo puritano de ética do trabalho, que é traduzido em sua versão espúria, calcada num ideal de esperteza, culto da aparência e capacidade pessoal de sedução. Nos momentos em que, delirante, Willy Loman é invadido pelas lembranças do passado, ficam patentes as conseqüências éticas e psicológicas que a ideologia do sucesso tem sobre a família: nas cenas situadas no plano da memória, o pai vê sua família menos como realidade afetiva do que como promessa de um futuro brilhante, a ser alcançado não pelo trabalho árduo, mas pela esperteza ou até mesmo a desonestidade, pelo sucesso com as mulheres ou nos esportes. Como conseqüência, não é importante explicitar qual o produto vendido por Willy, que, em suas falas, transfere para si as qualidades da mercadoria – na verdade, ele busca vender a si mesmo, apontando para a identificação exagerada entre o sujeito e o objeto, entre o homem e a mercadoria ou própria atividade econômica que exerce. Assim, esgotada a capacidade de promover a circulação de mercadorias ou dos signos que estas representam, Willy Loman torna-se obsoleto como a casa ou os eletrodomésticos, que deixam de funcionar de modo adequado antes mesmo de serem quitadas as prestações da compra. Ao final da peça, ele próprio se torna mercadoria, quando comete suicídio numa tentativa desesperada¾e frustrada¾de deixar como herança o dinheiro de seu seguro de vida. III. “The difference between landscape and landscape is small, but there is great difference in the beholder” (R. W. Emerson) Meio século mais tarde, a família Loman é evocada em Ameri- can Beauty não só através das novas configurações do etos capitalista na década de 90, mas também de maneira direta, embora sutil: a casa situada ao lado da residência da família Burnham, centro do O que restou do sonho americano 133 enredo, foi vendida depois que os Lomans se mudaram. Como na peça de Miller, as relações entre os vizinhos são também tensas, já que Carolyn havia cortado a árvore plantada na divisa entre as duas propriedades—uma alusão aos elmos que, no passado, existiam no quintal de Willy Loman. Mudaram os moradores, mas permaneceram as estruturas familiares falidas; na verdade, o filme parece apontar para a deterioração crescente do modelo familiar. Na peça de Miller, o desajuste emocional e a decadência ética dos Lomans se contrapõem aos padrões mais positivos dos vizinhos, que tratam Willy com paciência e generosidade, e buscam preparar os filhos para o sucesso através do esforço e da seriedade. Em American Beauty, porém, até mesmo o modelo puritano é apresentado apenas em seu lado negativo: o Coronel Fitts representa a face hipócrita e repressora da ética do dever e do trabalho, com conseqüências destrutivas para a mulher¾ que se anula até o ponto de perder contato com a realidade ¾e o filho, que finge respeitar as regras severas do pai, mas é usuário e traficante de drogas. “Meu pai acha que eu compro tudo isto [sua sofisticada aparelhagem de vídeo] trabalhando como garçom. Nunca subestime o poder da denegação” (Ball 1999, p. 47), comenta Ricky Fitts, trazendo à luz questões cruciais da sociedade contemporânea. Na verdade, o poder das ilusões e das aparências, bem como a dificuldade de encarar a realidade e os mecanismos de evasão utilizados para isso, constituem o cerne tanto de Death of a Salesman quanto de American Beauty. Para ressaltar as visões altamente subjetivas do real, as duas obras evitam a abordagem realista, optando por mesclar momentos de devaneio com o plano da realidade. Ao lançar mão de recursos expressionistas, Miller organiza sua narrativa através de uma estrutura episódica e fragmentada, que busca captar a maneira como Willy Loman percebe o mundo, como demonstra o título inicial da peça, The Inside of His Head. Daí o uso de um esquema temporal complexo, que alterna o tempo histórico com as memórias e devaneios de Willy, e que se associa à fragmentação espacial, intensificada pela justaposição das imagens da cidade, com sua luz 134 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis “raivosa, alaranjada” e os edifícios altos, que abafam a casa transparente, quase onírica, que serve também de espaço para os acontecimentos que voltam à memória de Willy e que compõem também o imaginário americano. Assim, o espaço mítico, a natureza idealizada (o oeste desbravado pelo pai de Willy, a selva onde seu irmão Ben teria se enriquecido da noite para o dia), se mistura ao “território” comercial controlado pelo vendedor e à casa modesta da família, chamando a atenção para o contraste en- tre a base mítica e ilusória do “sonho americano”, inspirado em um passado imaginado como composto de aventuras e realizações, em contraste com o presente, marcado pelo declínio e o desapontamento em termos financeiros e afetivos. Em Death of a Salesman, da natureza exuberante e dos sonhos só ficaram rastros: o som da flauta e o jardim árido. Já em American Beauty, em contraste com o cenário da peça de Miller, as árvores e os jardins ocupam a tela em vários momentos. Trata-se, porém, de uma natureza paradoxalmente construída, “fake”, como que um simulacro da paisagem natural de uma América mítica. O mesmo acontece com os outros espaços, que são apresentados através de uma abordagem hiper-realista, que resulta de seu caráter estereotípico: o que se vê é a América dos bairros residenciais prósperos, planejados, arborizados e tranqüilos, com casas bem cuidadas e jardins floridos¾como em maquetes ou peças publicitárias de um empreendimento imobiliário. A própria beleza da espécie de rosa que dá nome ao filme parece perfeita demais para ser real; na verdade, a flor pertence ao reino das mercadorias ou dos signos de sucesso ao ser mostrada em toda sua perfeição, cuidadosamente cortada por Carolyn, cujas ferramentas de trabalho no jardim, de cores combinadas, apontam para a artificialidade e pretensa aparência de sucesso que ela procura transmitir. A apresentação da paisagem como participando da ordem da simulação é reforçada pela cena inicial do filme, mediada pelo vídeo, em que Jane Burnham descreve o pai como incapaz de servir O que restou do sonho americano 135 de modelo de comportamento adequado para a filha. Ao mesmo tempo, a pose artificialmente à vontade da adolescente e sua aparente frieza ao dizer a Ricky, que grava a cena, que gostaria que este matasse o pai, sugerem que Jane está na verdade atuando para a câmera, o que é reforçado por seu receio de que o rapaz leve seu pedido a sério¾detalhe que só é revelado ao final do filme, quando a cena é repetida dentro do contexto geral do enredo. IV. “Build your own world.” (R. W. Emerson) Como observa Alan Ball no posfácio ao roteiro, o filme pretende criticar os “valores da classe média americana na era da mídia”, bem como sua “cultura manufaturada”, que “prospera através do ato de simplificar e abalar a experiência rapidamente a fim de vendê-la” (Ball 1999, p. 114). Ricky certamente representa o comportamento típico “na era da mídia”, enquanto Carolyn Burnham encarna essa “cultura manufaturada”, sobretudo aquela utilizada na busca pelo sucesso financeiro. Como os estudos sobre a mídia têm destacado, a forma de comunicação mais comum, a interação direta, baseada na presença física, vem sendo aos poucos substituída pela interação mediada, resultando em novos tipos de relações sociais e pessoais, isto é, entre indivíduos e até consigo mesmo (Thompsom 1995, p.4). Em conseqüência disso, o material simbólico mediado muitas vezes deixa de ser apenas um dos recursos disponíveis para a formação do sujeito e para a comunicação, tornando-se quase que um substituto das interações pessoais diretas (Thompsom 1995, p. 219). É isto que acontece com Ricky, em American Beauty, cuja família reage aos efeitos da repressão exercida pelo pai militar através da evasão da realidade e das dificuldades de convivência em 136 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis sociedade— seja através da alienação patológica de Barbara, seja através do uso de drogas e da obsessão (quase uma adição) por equipamentos de vídeo, no caso de Ricky. Para ele, a realidade precisa se transformar em imagem para poder ser apreendida através do processo de construção de um “cotidiano desdobrado”, enquadrado pela reprodução mecânica, e compreendido por meio de uma “retrovisão” (Guidieri 1997, p. 14). Porém, como observa Remo Guidieri a respeito da hipertrofia da informação mediada na sociedade contemporânea, “[e]ssa extensão paradoxal, sempre enquadrada, da visão, tem seu preço, e provoca uma espécie de estupor, uma necessidade que incita a ânsia, sempre frustrada, de, ainda assim, apreender mais imagens.” (p. 31). Provoca também a ânsia de construir o que Susan Sontag1 denomina “uma antologia de imagens”, resultante do “novo código visual” que regula nossas vidas, e que produz não só “uma gramática” mas também “uma ética do ato de ver” (Sontag 1977, p. 3), baseada em uma “relação voyeurista crônica com o mundo” (p. 11). Isso faz com que os meios eletrônicos usados para se captar imagens funcionem como “um dos principais meios de se vivenciar algo, de dar a impressão de participação” (p. 10). Essa sensação é, certamente, ilusória, já que as imagens, pelo fato de serem mediadas, constituem “um ato de não-intervenção” na realidade (p. 11), ao propiciar, paradoxalmente, “tanto a participação quanto a alienação em nossas próprias vidas e na dos outros”(167). Através do comportamento de Ricky, American Beauty faz uma crítica dessas novas formas de se vivenciar o real, bem como da obsessão de acumular as imagens do presente, que muitas vezes só consegue ser vivenciado quando transformado em passado, para o qual se volta o olhar nostálgico. Pode-se notar essa tendência não só nas inúmeras vezes em que Lester contempla o retrato da família, mas principalmente na compulsão de Ricky em colecionar e consumir as imagens da vida à sua volta, em lugar de participar dela, como atesta seu arquivo de fitas de vídeo. Assim, como observa Susan Sontag, as imagens constituem O que restou do sonho americano 137 uma maneira de aprisionar a realidade, percebida como recalcitrante, inacessível; de fazer com que ela não se mexa. Ou elas podem ampliar uma realidade que se sente como empobrecida, esvaziada, perecível, remota. Não se pode possuir a realidade, mas pode-se possuir imagens (e ser possuído por elas—pois, de acordo com Proust, o mais ambicioso dos prisioneiros voluntários, não se pode possuir o presente, mas pode-se possuir o passado. (Sontag 1977, p. 163) “A fotografia é o inventário da mortalidade” (p. 70), conclui Sontag, mas na verdade sua afirmação poderia ser estendida aos outros meios de reprodução de imagens na época contemporânea, marcada pela produção e consumo da nostalgia, ou pelo processo que Andreas Huyssen denomina a “musealização” da realidade, que, na vida privada, se traduz na “obsessiva auto-musealização através do vídeo” (Huyssen 1997, p.223). O vídeo, como a fotografia, torna-se então “uma arte elegíaca”, pois, ao captar a realidade em imagem, confere a qualquer objeto um certo pathos, já que, nas palavras de Sontag, “[t]odas as fotos são memento mori”(p.15)—sendo que o mesmo pode ser dito a respeito do vídeo. E é justamente a consciência do “caráter mortal, vulnerável, mutável” (Sontag 1977, p. 15) daquilo que se enquadra através das lentes de uma câmara que faz com que o objeto pareça cercado de uma aura. Talvez seja isso que explique a beleza que Ricky diz encontrar na dança do saco plástico empurrado pelo vento; afinal, como observa Sontag, “Ninguém jamais descobriu a feiúra através de fotografias. Mas muitos, através de fotografias, descobriram a beleza”. (p. 85) A beleza, então, existe apenas quando construída e mediada pelas lentes de uma câmera. Pode-se dizer que as imagens são utilizadas por Ricky com um objetivo epistemológico (como ferramentas para compreender o mundo) e estético (captar a beleza que o olhos, sem a ajuda da tecnologia, não conseguem ver). Já para Carolyn, o mundo das imagens e aparências tem uma finalidade mais pragmática: “Como 138 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis você sabe, meu negócio é vender uma imagem. E parte de meu trabalho é viver de acordo com essa imagem—”, ela adverte o marido em uma festa de profissionais do mercado imobiliário (Ball 1999, p. 29). Suas idéias são reforçadas pouco mais tarde por Buddy, cujo sucesso nas vendas faz com que Carolyn o veja como modelo: “[...] é minha filosofia que, para ser bem sucedido, a pessoa tem que projetar uma imagem de sucesso, o tempo todo” (p. 51). Ou, como diria Willy Loman, “a questão não é o que você faz... É quem você conhece e o sorriso no seu rosto!” (Miller 1976, p. 86). E, além disso, é a crença de que uma carreira vitoriosa depende do esforço pessoal e de uma confiança no poder quase mágico das técnicas de motivação para se garantir a construção de um indivíduo “centrado em si mesmo” (“me-centered”) e, portanto, apto para o sucesso financeiro, como sugere a fita que Carolyn ouve no carro a caminho do trabalho: “Apenas quando se assume total responsabilidade por seus próprios problemas—e pela solução deles—é possível se libertar do ciclo contínuo de vitimização.”(pp. 85-86) Assim, a frase “Eu me recuso a ser uma vítima” deve ser repetida “como um mantra”, até ser totalmente incorporada ao seu comportamento (p. 90), funcionando de maneira semelhante à repetição contínua e compulsiva das pretensas fórmulas de sucesso por parte de Willy Loman. E interessante observar que, passadas cinco décadas da primeira apresentação de Death of a Salesman, a ideologia do capitalismo deixa de ter uma face eminentemente masculina e, ao contrário do que promete a fita que Carolyn ouve, transforma as mulheres nas vítimas mais recentes do “sonho americano”. Daí a enorme distância que separa o mundo doméstico de Linda Loman e a total imersão de Carolyn Burnham na competitividade do mercado imobiliário. Assim, enquanto para Happy Loman, “tornar-se o número um” é “o único sonho que se pode ter” (Miller 1976, p. 139), para Linda isso não faz sentido:“Por que cada um tem que conquistar o mundo?” (p. 85), ela pergunta. No entanto, essa questão vai se tornar crucial à medida que as mulheres buscam não só se O que restou do sonho americano 139 integrar ao mundo profissional, mas também ser vitoriosas nele. Em American Beauty, parece não haver uma solução positiva para as mulheres, condenadas à alienação, por razões diversas. Por um lado, a mãe de Ricky, em especial devido às limitações impostas pela mentalidade machista do marido militar, perde aos poucos qualquer contato com qualquer realidade que não ser a busca da perfeita ordem e limpeza da casa. Por outro lado, Carolyn abafa seus sentimentos tanto pelo marido quanto pela filha, investindo toda sua energia na busca do sucesso, ou mesmo na aparência do sucesso, isto é, na aparência de felicidade (os jantares de família, cuidadosamente encenados até mesmo na escolha da música ambiente, constituem um dos índices da erosão de qualquer sentimento de intimidade). Da felicidade só restou a fotografia da família quando Jane era criança, que Lester olha nostalgicamente. “Ela [Carolyn] costumava ser feliz. Nós costumávamos ser felizes”, ele observa, surpreso (Ball 1999, p. 4). As mulheres da nova geração acham-se também marcadas pelo culto das aparências e da beleza, que acaba se mostrando como o correlativo feminino do que para Happy, em Death of a Salesman, significava “se tornar o número um”. “Acho que não há nada pior do que ser comum...”, diz Angela, a amiga de Jane por quem Lester se sente atraído, e cujo sonho é seguir a carreira de modelo. De certa forma, Angela constitui uma das manifestações da beleza americana a que se refere o título do filme; no entanto, como a rosa a que está associada, trata-se de uma beleza artificial, ou apenas imaginada por Lester como um signo do desejo ou da juventude perdida, mas que não consegue enganar Ricky, que lhe diz a verdade que ela teme: além de desinteressante [boring], An- gela é “totalmente comum”; mais, ainda, no fundo, ela sabe disso (Ball 1999, p. 88 ). Por sua vez, embora Jane sinta-se pouco atraente e não pareça em modificar a situação, seu sonho é uma cirurgia plástica nos seios, para a qual vem economizando desde o começo da adolescência. Embora se mostre mimada e distante em relação aos pais e mesmo aos colegas, seu relacionamento com Ricky parece 140 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis apontar para uma mudança positiva, semelhante àquela experimentada por seu pai. Na verdade, tanto para Jane quanto para Lester, o espaço de tempo em que se passa a ação do filme significa uma época de confronto com o real, num tempo localizado como que fora do tempo histórico, análogo ao que Miller propõe em Death of a Salesman. V. “For through that better perception he stands one step narer to things, and sees the flowing metamorphosis; perceives […] that within the form of every creature is aforce impelling it to ascend to a higher form […]” (R. W. Emerson) Para Miller, a ação de sua peça “está suspensa fora do tempo cronológico”, como em um sonho (citado em Bigsby 2000, p. 6). Isto explica um dos títulos que o autor imaginou para Death of a Salesman inicialmente: A Period of Grace, uma referência “àquele período anômalo em que o tempo de uma apólice de seguro já expirou, mas continua valendo, temporariamente, sem nenhum referente temporal” (Bigsby 2000, p. 6). Como Willy Loman em seu último dia de vida, Lester Burnham vive seu último ano de vida suspenso entre o presente e a rememoração nostálgica do passado. De certo modo, ele abandona o tempo histórico ao renegar a vida que se espera de um adulto tanto em suas obrigações profissionais quanto familiares; para isso não hesita em lançar mão de meios desonestos (a chantagem contra seus empregadores) e em buscar recriar a adolescência perdida através da tentativa de recuperar o vigor físico e o gosto pelo prazer, metaforizados em seus devaneios, centrados numa imagem idealizada de Angela. Pode-se aplicar a Lester o comentário de Miller sobre Willy Loman, já que ambos buscam, neste período suplementar de suas vidas, “ver o presente O que restou do sonho americano 141 através do passado, e o passado através do presente” (citado em Bigsby 2000, p. 12). O sentimento de urgência de recuperar o tempo perdido torna- se mais forte em American Beauty pela posição em que o espectador é colocado ao saber, desde as primeiras cenas do filme, que a história está sendo contada em forma de memórias póstumas. Como indica o roteiro, “[e]stamos voando sobre a América dos bairros residenciais [suburban America], descendo devagar em direção a uma rua arborizada” (Ball 1999, p. 1), ironicamente chamada “Robin Hood Trail”, em uma alusão a um passado mitológico associado, por um lado, a aventuras dentro do mundo natural (análogo ao “mundo verde” que Willy Loman imagina ser o espaço masculino, propício ao sucesso), mas, por outro, a condutas moralmente duvidosas, mesmo que sancionadas socialmente (o mundo profissional de Lester e Carolyn, bem como o de Willy Loman). Ouve-se então a voz de Lester: “Meu nome é Lester Burnham. Este é meu bairro. Esta é minha rua. Esta… é minha vida. Tenho quarenta e dois anos. Em menos de um ano, estarei morto. [...] É claro que eu ainda não sei disto. […] E, de certa forma, já estou morto.” (Ball 1999, p. 1) Assim, as memórias de Lester estão revestidas da autoridade de quem teria uma visão distanciada da vida, fora do alcance dos vivos, pois consistem numa espécie de visão da existência que se imagina acontecer no momento da morte. Isto fica ainda mais claro ao final do filme, quando ouvimos a voz de Lester: “Sempre ouvi dizer que a vida inteira de uma pessoa passa rapidamente diante dos seus olhos um segundo antes de morrer. [...] Só que esse segundo não é bem um segundo— ele se prolonga para sempre, como um oceano de tempo…” ( Ball 1999, p. 97) E é a partir desse tempo fora do tempo que a história é narrada, adquirindo a autoridade que Walter Benjamin confere aos narradores tradicionais que, para ele, ainda eram capazes de legar uma experiência; no entanto, Lester difere desse modelo pela atitude extremamente irônica, que alcança seu ponto alto nas palavras que encerram o filme: “Certamente vocês não estão entendendo nada 142 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis do que estou falando. Mas não se preocupem... […] Um dia vocês ainda vão entender.” (Ball 1999, 100) Ao apelar para a mortalidade humana, o filme reforça o significado de Lester como representante do homem comum da sociedade contemporânea– ou Everyman, como Willy Loman—nos seus erros e desejos. Assim, o personagem começa como a figura do perdedor, tão temida pela cultura capitalista , mas é alguém que sente que “perdeu algo” ao longo da vida, embora não consiga precisar exatamente o quê (Ball 1999, p. 5), e que se vê ameaçado de perder o emprego, não pela idade, como Loman, mas devido à política de cortes de pessoal, típica da década passada, que busca a “eficiência” em parte dispensando os trabalhadores considerados desnecessários [“expendable”] (Ball 1999, p. 7). Sua reação é chantagear o chefe, receber uma indenização alta e voltar a uma vida de adolescente, na busca nostálgica da felicidade perdida. E, nesse ano que funciona como o “period of grace” de Loman, Lester acaba conseguindo, pelo menos, se sentir bem consigo mesmo. Ao examinar com ternura o porta-retrato com a foto da família, no momento antes de ser baleado, “[ele] de repente parece mais velho, mais maduro... e então sorri: o sorriso largo, satisfeito, de um homem que acaba de entender o significado de uma piada que ouviu há muito tempo...” (Ball 1999, p. 96) A felicidade está em momentos aparentemente sem importância, parece indicar o filme, apontando para a nostalgia que marca as sociedades ocidentais contemporâneas. A felicidade ficou perdida em algum lugar do passado, mesmo que imaginário: em American Beauty, a juventude e a esperança de felicidade; em Death of a Salesman, a vida próxima à natureza, o início do casamento, as promessas de sucesso para os filhos, a floresta, o jardim. Em American Beauty, Lester reencontra um pouco de felicidade na redescoberta do corpo e do prazer, na busca de relações humanas desvinculadas de interesses profissionais, na falta de compromissos; porém, isso depende de uma opção que funciona por algum tempo, apenas neste “period of grace”, em que foi possível ignorar o tempo O que restou do sonho americano 143 histórico—um período que, estranhamente, parece se prolongar depois da morte. Da vida, Lester guarda apenas algumas imagens: o céu estrelado no acampamento de escoteiros, as folhas de outono, as lembranças da avó, a filha quando criança, e, finalmente, o vídeo gravado por Ricky, que mostra um saco plástico movido pelo vento: “O vento carrega-o em círculos em volta de nós, algumas vezes sacudindo-o violentamente, ou, sem avisar, empurrando-o em direção ao céu, para em seguida deixá-lo flutuar graciosamente ate o chão...” (Ball 1999, p. 100) Ao mesmo tempo, ouvimos a voz de Lester, que ecoa em parte as palavras anteriormente proferidas por Ricky: Acho que poderia estar danado da vida com o que aconteceu comigo... mas é muito difícil ficar com raiva quando há tanta beleza no mundo. Algumas vezes eu me sinto como se estivesse vendo tudo ao mesmo tempo, é demais, meu coração se enche como um balão que está a ponto de estourar... e então eu me lembro de relaxar, e paro de tentar me agarrar a isso, e tudo flui através de mim como chuva, e eu só posso sentir gratidão por cada um dos momentos da minha vidinha boba... Você não tem a menor idéia do que estou falando. Mas não se preocupe...Um dia você vai entender. (Ball 1999, p.100) VI. “Nature cannot be surprised in undress. Beauty breaks in everywhere.” (R.W. Emerson) Onde está, então, a “beleza americana”? Na rosa vermelha e perfeita, ou no saco plástico que se entrega à força do vento, sem opor resistência? Onde esta a felicidade? No sonho americano alcançado pelo “self-made man” ou na experiência dos pequenos 144 Eliana Lourenço de Lima Reis momentos? A resposta sugerida por Death of a Salesman e Ameri- can Beauty baseia-se, por um lado, no firme repúdio da face materialista do “sonho americano”, e, por outro, numa atitude de compaixão para com aqueles que perseguem “os sonhos errados”— sobretudo quando a vida é apresentada do ponto de vista distanciado de alguém que já não participa mais dela, como Lester. Ou então quando mediada pela perspectiva de uma figura de narrador-Deus, também situado fora do tempo cronológico, como o Stage Man- ager de Our Town, uma das peças mais populares nos Estados Unidos. Ao final da peça, Emily, que morre ao dar a luz ao primeiro filho, pergunta: “Será que os seres humanos algum dia compreendem a vida enquanto ainda vivem?— cada minuto dela?” A resposta do Stage Manager é evasiva, insegura: “Os santos e poetas, talvez— um pouco.” (Wilder 1998, p. 108) Nota 1. Em On Photography, Susan Sontag, afirma haver uma diferença entre o significado das imagens na fotografia e nas imagens em movimento no vídeo e no cinema. Porem, para o que me interessa discutir neste trabalho, não estou levando em conta essa distinção. O que restou do sonho americano 145 Bibliografia BALL, Alan. American Beauty. The Shooting Script. New York: Newmarket, 1999. BIGSBY, Christopher. Arthur Miller: Time Traveller. In: MARINO, Stephen (Ed.). “The Salesman Has a Birthday”. Lanham, MA / Oxford: University Press of America, 2000. p. 1-17. GUIDIERI, Remo. El museo y sus fetiches. Crónica de lo neutro y de la aureola. Trad. Isabelle Touet de Matallana. Madrid: Tecnos, 1997. MARTIN, Robert A. e Stephen R. Centola (Eds) The Theater Essays of Arthur Miller. New York: DaCappo Press, 1996. MILLER, Arthur. The Crucible. London: Methuen Film, 1997. Author´s Note to The Crucible as Film. p. v-viii. MILLER, Arthur. Death of a Salesman. New York: Penguin, 1976. ROUDANE, Matthew C. An Interview with Arthur Miller. Michigan Quarterly Review 24 (1985): 373-389. SONTAG, Susan. On Photography. New York: Farrar, Strauss and Giroux, 1977. THOMPSOM, John. The Media and Modernity. A social theory of the media. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1995. WILDER, Thornton. Our Town. New York: HarperPerennial, 1998. 
work_tpwtackdafgvbhuwdt7tou7b2a	----	Lacrimal surgery: Glorious past, exciting present era and the audacity of hope for a brilliant future Saudi Journal of Ophthalmology (2014) 28, 1–2 Editorial Lacrimal surgery: Glorious past, exciting present era and the audacity of hope for a brilliant future ‘‘Do not fear to be eccentric in opinion, for every opinion now accepted was once eccentric’’. – Bertrand Russell (1872–1970) The evolution of lacrimal disorders and its management amply exemplifies the above stated quote of the 20th century British philosopher Bertrand Russell. Lacrimal surgeries have been a subject of discussion in antiquity with the earliest doc- umented reference being a lacrimal sac incision in the ‘Code of Hammurabi’ in 2250 BC.1 The past which appears glorious today had once traveled through many tough terrains in an- cient times nurtured by the Egyptians (Ebers Papyrus – 1500 BC), the Greeks (Hippocrates and Celcus – 25 BC) and the Romans (Galen – 200 AD).1,2 The Arabians chipped in between with their contributions from Ibn Sina and Al Razi in the medieval times. The Modern Dacryology was given impetus with the hallmark anatomical works of Giovanni Mor- gagni (1682–1771) and Johann Zinn (1727–1759) and equally by the influential lacrimal treatises by Percival Pott (1714– 1788) and Johann Schmidt (1759–1809).3 ‘Men love to wonder and that is the seed of science’, said the famous 19th century American poet, Ralph Waldo Emer- son. Lacrimal surgeries have undergone a sea change in the last two centuries. The original Woolhouse technique (1724) of dacryocystectomy underwent numerous changes in tech- niques and approaches to the present age but with progres- sively lesser indications. The external dacyrocystorhinostomy (DCR) had a steeper evolution for obvious reasons from the times when Addeo Toti (1904) first described it to the current day practice with various incisions and lacrimal sac implants.4,5 With the introduction of rigid endoscopy and better view, endonasal dacyrocystorhinostomy showed a steep resurgence into the practice,6 more than a century after its original description7 failed to gain wider acceptance. Endocanalicular laser DCR, however till the present date has failed to gain widespread acceptance despite numerous modifications since its introduction to Dacryology by Levin and Stormogipson in 1992.8,9 Likewise was the journey of trans-conjunctival DCR (CDCR), which evolved into endo- scopic and lesser invasive approaches along with numerous Jones tube modifications.10,11 Balloon dacryoplasty has evolved mostly in terms of indications rather than instrumen- tation or techniques.12,13 The present era of lacrimal practice is both exciting and at the same time challenging. The state of art equipments including high definition endoscopic systems, diagnostic and therapeutic dacryoendoscopy and higher resolution yet Peer review under responsibility of Saudi Ophthalmological Society, King Saud University safer imaging are increasingly contributing toward our under- standing of the disorders as well as developing minimally invasive surgical options. Many debates today are centered on the approaches to a DCR, ostium size, mitomycin C and intubation. The most recent meta-analysis has been able to shed much needed light into these areas with clinical implica- tions.14,15 The PEDIG studies have helped greatly in the man- agement of congenital nasolacrimal duct obstructions in terms of clinical decision making and outcomes.16,17 There is an increasing focus on the Natural Orifice Transcanalicular Endoscopic Surgery (NOTES) for both canalicular and naso- lacrimal duct recanalizations under dacryoendoscopic guid- ance in an effort to avoid a DCR.18 Although NOTES is quite promising, skepticism is very well justified at this stage. The present era is also taking many attempts to standardize the nomenclatures,19 drug dosage,20 introduction of newer terminologies21 and paradigm shifts in the understanding of lacrimal anatomy.22,23 The armamentarium of a lacrimal sur- geon today is more well equipped than any other time and this very fact brings in more responsibility on us than any other time, to take this forward in every possible way in the future! The audacity of hope and optimism points toward a brighter future for the patients of tomorrow with lacrimal disorders. However, despite some of the advances high- lighted, we still have a long way to go in our understanding and treatment of lacrimal disorders. This would require work on two different fronts with concurrent amalgamation. The first front should be science related and let the second be re- lated to the surgeon. On the science frontier, the need of hour is to demystify the etiopathogenesis of lacrimal disor- ders primarily that of primary acquired nasolacrimal duct obstruction or PANDO. It would be inappropriate to con- tinue managing lacrimal disorders mechanically without simultaneous efforts to unravel the elusive etiopathogenesis. The key to this, I believe lies with the basic sciences. Embry- onic studies to look for regulatory proteins influencing lacri- mal primordium and sub adjacent mesenchyme of surface ectoderm during Carnegie stages of development may hold promising clues to understanding of congenital lacrimal dis- orders. Cytochemical analysis was performed for inflamma- tory mediators in tears of patients with PANDO and if the culprits are zeroed in on, the search to pharmacologically block them or their receptors in the lacrimal system may have prophylactic value early on in the disease. Lacrimal immunol- ogy work on lacrimal drainage associated lymphoid tissues Production and hosting by Elsevier Access this article online: www.saudiophthaljournal.com www.sciencedirect.com http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/journal/13194534 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.sjopt.2013.12.005 2 Editorial (LDALT), its derangements24 and how differently it behaves from the rest of the immune system should be carried for- ward to its logical conclusions as this may have great bearing on our understanding of lacrimal physiology. Other avenues of potential research in near future include the lacrimal sys- tem stem cell characterization on similar lines as that of lacri- mal gland,25 drug coated stents and electron microscopic inter and intra-cellular changes in lacrimal disorders. On the second front, the lacrimal surgeon should not only focus on evidence based practice but also constantly endea- vor to explore avenues to generate evidence. The research potential needs to be unlocked and academic institutes should strive toward protecting and rearing the endangered species of ‘Clinician-Scientists’ rather than pure clinicians. The need of the hour is also to cross specialize where it mat- ters! The lacrimal drainage system has a long course within the nasal cavity and it is obvious that a good lacrimal work cannot be done without a good anatomical and surgical knowledge of the nose. Although, the resurgence of EENT (eye, ear, nose, and throat) specialists may not be desirable due to explosion in the knowledge and vast nature of each subject, the benefits of limited cross specialization cannot be over emphasized. Cross specialization also opens up the surgeon to at least some ideas of one’s specialty that when appropriately extrapolated to other may have beneficial re- sults. Basic sciences are the key to the future; hence a very good understanding of fundamentals of lacrimal system up to the molecular level would greatly help the lacrimal sur- geon in dealing with the disorders both in the lab and the clinics. There should be efforts on part of the lacrimal sur- geon to do focused clinical and research work with an emphasis on translational values. The challenge of the future is to set audacious goals and strive hard to achieve them. We as lacrimal surgeons need to remind ourselves frequently of our equally important responsibility to advance medicine and hand it over in a better shape to the next generation and probably beyond them. Are we doing enough on these fronts? If not, let us change that from today! ‘‘There is a single light of science, and to brighten it anywhere is to brighten it everywhere’’. – Isaac Asimov (1920–1992) References 1. Hirschberg J. The renaissance of ophthalmology in 18th century. In: Hirschberg J, editor. The history of ophthalmology, vol. 1. Amsterdam: Wayenborg publications; 1984. p. 11. 2. Hirschberg J. The renaissance of ophthalmology in 18th century. In: Hirschberg J, editor. The history of ophthalmology, vol. 3. Amsterdam: Wayenborg publications; 1984. p. 250–5. 3. Albert DM. Ophthalmic plastics surgery. In: Albert DM, Edwards DD, editors. The history of ophthalmology. Cambridge: Blackwell Science; 1996. p. 235–54. 4. Ekinci M, Cagatay HH, Oba ME, et al.. The long term follow-up results of external dacryocystorhinostomy skin incision scar with ‘W’ incision. Orbit 2013;32:349–55. 5. De Castro DK, Santiago YM, Cunningham M, et al.. A modified lacrimal sac implant for high risk dacyrocystorhinostomy. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2013;29:367–72. 6. McDonogh M, Meiring JH. Endoscopic transnasal dacryocystorhinostomy. J Laryngol Otol 1989;103:585–7. 7. Caldwell GW. Two new operations for the obstruction of the nasal duct with preservation of the canaliculi. Am J Ophthalmol 1893;10:189. 8. Levin PS, Stormogipson DJ. Endocanalicular laser assisted DCR. An anatomic study. Arch Ophthalmol 1992;110:1488–90. 9. Henson RD, Cruz HL, Henson Jr RG, et al.. Post operative application of mitomycin C in endocanalicular laser DCR. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2012;28:192–5. 10. Jones LT. Conjunctivodacryocystorhinostomy. Am J Ophthalmol 1965;59:773–83. 11. Ali MJ, Honavar SG, Naik M. Endoscopically guided minimally invasive bypass tube intubation without DCR: evaluation of drainage and objective outcomes assessment. Minim Invasive Ther Allied Technol 2013;22:104–9. 12. Becker BB, Berry FD. Balloon catheter dilatation in lacrimal surgery. Ophthalmic Surg 1989;20:193–8. 13. Ali MJ, Naik MN, Honavar SG. Balloon dacryoplasty: ushering the new and routine era in minimally invasive lacrimal surgeries. Int Ophthalmol 2013;33:203–10. 14. Feng YF, Yu JG, Shi JL, et al.. A meta-analysis of primary external dacryocystorhinostomy with and without mitomycin C. Ophthalmic Epidemiol 2012;19:364–70. 15. Feng YF, Cai JQ, Zhang JY, et al.. A meta-analysis of primary dacryocystorhinostomy wit h and without silicone intubation. Can J Ophthalmol 2011;46:521–7. 16. Repka MX, Chandler DL, Holmes JM, et al.. Balloon catheter dilatation and nasolacrimal duct intubation for treatment of nasolacrimal duct obstruction in after failed probing. Arch Ophthalmol 2009;127:633–9. 17. Repka MX, Chandler DL, Bremer DL, et al.. Repeat probing for treatment of persistent nasolacrimal duct obstruction. J AAPOS 2009;13:306–7. 18. Javate RM, Pamintuan FG, Cruz Jr RT. Efficacy of endoscopic lacrimal duct recanalization using microendoscope. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2010;26:330–3. 19. Ali MJ, Mohapatra S, Mulay K, et al.. Incomplete punctal canalization: the external and internal punctal membranes. Outcomes of membranotomy and adjunctive procedures. Br J Ophthalmol 2013;97:92–5. 20. Ali MJ, Mariappan I, Maddileti S, et al.. Mitomycin C in dacyrocystorhinostomy: the search for the right concentration and duration – a fundamental study on human nasal mucosa fibroblasts. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2013;29:469–74. 21. Ali MJ, Naik MN. Canalicular wall dysgenesis: the clinical profile of canalicular aplasia and hypoplasia, associated systemic and lacrimal anomalies, and clinical implications. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2013;29:464–8. 22. Park J, Takahasi Y, Nakano T, et al.. The orientation of the lacrimal fossa to the bony nasolacrimal canal: an anatomical study. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2012;28:463–8. 23. Kakizaki H, Ichinose A, Takahashi Y, et al.. Anatomical relationship of Horner’s muscle origin and posterior lacrimal crest. Ophthal Plast Reconstr Surg 2012;28:66–8. 24. Ali MJ, Mulay K, Pujari A, et al.. Derangements of lacrimal drainage associated lymphoid tissue (LDALT) in human chronic dacryocystitis. Ocul Immunol Inflamm 2013;21:417–23. 25. Tiwari S, Ali MJ, Balla MM, et al.. Establishing human lacrimal gland cultures with secretory function. PLoS One 2012;7:e29458. Mohammad Javed Ali FRCS Dacryology Service, Ophthalmic Plastics Surgery, L.V. Prasad Eye Institute, Hyderabad, India Tel.: +91 9393371777. E-mail addresses: drjaved007@gmail.com, javed@lvpei.org Available online 17 December 2013 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0005 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0005 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0005 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0010 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0010 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0010 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0015 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0015 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0015 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0020 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0020 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0020 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0025 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0025 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0025 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0030 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0030 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0035 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0035 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0035 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0040 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0040 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0045 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0045 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0045 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0050 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0050 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0055 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0055 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0055 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0055 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0060 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0060 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0065 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0065 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0065 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0070 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0070 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0070 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0075 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0075 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0075 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0080 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0080 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0080 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0080 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0085 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0085 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0085 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0090 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0090 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0090 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0095 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0095 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0095 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0095 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0100 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0100 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0100 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0100 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0105 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0105 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0105 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0105 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0110 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0110 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0110 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0115 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0115 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0115 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0120 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0120 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0120 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0125 http://refhub.elsevier.com/S1319-4534(13)00141-0/h0125 mailto:drjaved007@gmail.com mailto:javed@lvpei.org Lacrimal surgery: Glorious past, exciting present era and the audacity of hope for a brilliant future References 
work_txfeqzgi4ndvzkn7f3nj3o7tli	----	NNJvolume3-2 final.pdf NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 Paul Rosin Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles The process of design in art and architecture generally involves the combination and manipulation of a relatively small number of geometric elements to create both the underlying structures as well as the overlaid decorative details. In this paper we concentrate on patterns created by copies of just a single geometric form — the circle. The circle is an extremely significant shape. By virtue of its simplicity and its topology it has been highly esteemed by many different cultures for millennia, symbolising God, unity, perfection, eternity, stability, etc. 113 Introduction The process of design in art and architecture generally involves the combination and manipulation of a relatively small number of geometric elements to create both the underlying structures as well as the overlaid decorative details. In this paper we concentrate on patterns created by copies of just a single geometric form — the circle. The circle is an extremely significant shape. By virtue of its simplicity and its topology it has been highly esteemed by many different cultures for millennia, symbolising God, unity, perfection, eternity, stability, etc. For instance, Ralph Waldo Emerson considered the circle to be “the highest emblem in the cipher of the world” [Emerson 1920]. Circular rosettes Circular rosettes have a long history, going back at least 6000 years, and were popular for instance in the Egyptian, Babylonian, Assyrian, and Greek cultures [Goodyear 1891]. Examples of some of the attractive arrangements of intersecting circles at the Temple of Osiris (e.g. the so-called Flower and Seed of Life) are given in Rawles comprehensive book [Rawles 1997]. Later, the rosette was a popular decorative pattern for floors in Roman architecture [Schmelzeisen 1992]. A more modern phenomena are the increased sightings of crop circles. Disregarding the issue of the authenticity of their extraterrestrial origin, it is worth noting that many involve intersecting circles forming rosette-like patterns. In fact, circular rosettes appear in many unexpected areas, from manholes [Melnick 1994] to Leonardo da Vinci’s knot patterns to clock faces to garden hedges (Figure 1). A circular rosette is formed by taking copies of a circle and rotating them about a point — the rosette’s centre (Figure 2). If the radius r of the circle is equal to the distance d between the point of rotation and the circle centres then the circles all meet at the centre of the rosette (Figure 3a). If the circle radii are smaller than d then they do not reach the rosette centre, creating a hole (Figure 3b). Likewise, an apparent hole is created when the circle radii are greater than d, although in this case the rosette centre is contained in all the circles. We see also that as the PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles114 Figure 1. Circular rosettes. Figure 2. Two examples of circular rosettes. Figure 3. Circular rosettes made up from 30 circles with radii such that (a) r = d, (b) r<d, (c) r>d. Figure 1 Figure 2 Figure 3 NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 115 number of circles used to generate the rosettes increases the envelope of the external perimeter of the rosette converges to a circle with radius r+d while the envelope of the inner circle is a circle with radius d. Thus, we have the curious aspect that the same sized inner circular hole is created for a fixed value v, irrespective of whether r=d+v or r=d-v. To simplify matters we shall only consider the first case in which the circles meet at the rosette centre. The points of intersection between the circles is given by where t is the angle increment between successive circles, i.e. if N number of circles then , and n is the intersection level such that 1 indicates the intersection closest to the rosette’s periphery, 2 the next level closer in to the rosette’s centre, and so on. This enables us to verify some properties that suggest themselves on visual inspection of the rosettes. First, with the exception of the innermost and outermost regions of the rosette the interstices formed by the overlapping circles form a sort of curvilinear rhombus (see Figure 9 below). Not only do all the sides of these interstices have equal length, but all the interstices have equal length sides. Second, there are N/2 rings of interstices. Their aspect ratio is 1:1 in the central ring, while moving out from this ring on either side the aspect ratio symmetrically increases. That is, corresponding interstices on either side of the middle ring have identical aspect ratios, but are rotated by 90°. In contrast, the interstices of rosettes constructed from logarithmic spirals maintain the same shape (and aspect ratio), but only increase in size as they radiate out from the rosette centre [Williams 1999]. As more circles are included to make up the rosette, more interstices are naturally created. Not only that, but the rate of change of their aspect ratios also changes. The interstices from rosettes with very few circles have aspect ratios fairly evenly distributed in the range [0,1.5], whereas for rosettes containing many circles the majority of the interstices are close to 1:1. This is verified in the graphs in Figure 4, which show the ratios of the aspect ratios of each ring with its inwards neighbouring ring. Figure 4. Graphs showing the variation in the rate of increase and decrease in interstice aspect ratios as they progress across the rosette. PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles116 Due to their perspective-like shrinking, the outer half of the rosette’s rings give the visual impression that there is a three-dimensional spherical surface curving away from the viewer. To avoid this and ensure that the rosette gives the impression of a starburst- like radiating effect, many instances of circular rosette’s designed for pavements use only the inner rings, chopping off any beyond the middle one. Five disks problem Since we have determined the intersection points of the circles it is now easy to tackle the geometric Five Disks Problem [Weisstein 1998] which is set as follows (Figure 5). Given five equally sized disks placed symmetrically about a given centre what is the smallest radius of disk that ensures that the radius of the circular area covered by the disks equals one? All that needs to be done is solve with respect to r for the given number of circles N=5, resulting in the solution . We can also determine the solution for other values of N, and for instance find that with four circles: , and for six circles: . Hypotrochoids It is interesting to compare the rosette to the analytic curve called the hypotrochoid, which is generated by tracing out a fixed point on a circle that is rolling inside another fixed circle. The simplified form given by the parametric equations produces patterns very similar to circular rosettes as shown in Figure 6. The parameter q Figure 6. Hypotrochoids which closely resemble circular rosettes. Figure 5. Five disks problem. The radius of the shaded circle should equal one. NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 117 determines the number of lobes plus the equations can be modified to increase and decrease the fullness of the lobes. One can speculate that Albrecht Dürer may also have noticed the similarity. In addition to his artistic work, he realised that mathematics could provide a powerful tool for the artist, and was interested in the connections between art and mathematics. This lead to his becoming an important Renaissance mathematician (at least in terms of early dissemination of geometry rather than an extension of the field). In his book Unterweisung der Messung mit dem Zirkel und Richtscheit he describes not only a method for designing a circular rosette floor pattern but also the construction of a large number of curves including an epicycloid (the cardioid) [Dürer 1977]. The hypotrochoid is not the only curve with similar appearance to the rosette. In fact, in 1728 Guido Grande published Flores Geometrici, which described a host of curves producing flower-like patterns. Variations on the form Starting from the basic circular rosette there are many variations we can make in its construction. For instance, the rotating circles can be replaced by other forms such as the ellipses shown in Figure 7a. If the elongation of the ellipses is sufficient then the interstices exhibit behaviour somewhere in between the circular and spiral rosettes. For instance, in the example shown, the rhombus-like interstices become more compact as they move out from the rosette centre. In comparison with the circular rosette the variation in aspect ratio is slower. Moreover, the aspect ratio does not reach 1:1, and so does not contain the symmetric rings of interstices with identical aspect ratios on either side of a middle ring. The rate of change in interstice aspect ratio is dependent on the number of ellipses that make up the rosette as well as their eccentricity. Therefore, if a series of rosettes is generated in which the ellipses’ eccentricity is gradually reduced to become more circular then the ring of 1:1 interstices appears at the periphery of the rosette and moves inwards towards the rosette’s middle ring. Figures 7b and 7c show the effect of stretching the ellipse the other way so that it extends across the rosette rather than projecting outwards from the centre. When sufficient ellipses are included a fretwork pattern is generated in Figure 7. Rosettes created using alternative rotated forms. a b c d e PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles118 Variations in articulation Again starting from the basic circular rosette the outline can be further articulated by various graphical means [Williams 1997]. The pavement of the Biblioteca Laurenziana, also designed by Michaelangelo, refines the basic rosette in two ways. It is created from the combination of two rosettes, the second slightly rotated with respect to the first [Nicholson and Kappraff, 1998; Kappraff 1999]. In addition, ellipses have been drawn inside the interstices. Even simplifying the pattern to a single rosette with infinitely thin boundaries, and butting the ellipses right up to the circles still results in a difficult geometric pattern to analyse. The principal problem involves the ellipses since determining inscribed ellipses is not straightforward. To simplify analysis we approximate the curvilinear rhombus by a standard straight- sided rhombus (Figure 9). We can then follow the laborious procedure known to draughtsmen for determining the inscribed ellipse to a parallelogram [Browning 1996].2 Figure 8. Further variations of the circular rosette. Figure 9 Curvilinear rhombus interstice formed in circular rosette. which a variety of shapes of interstices appear. Also, a circular ring is formed at the centre with radius equal to the ellipses’ minor axis length. In Figures 7d and 7e, the generating circles have been replaced by superellipses [Gardner 1965] (actually supercircles since their aspect ratio is one). Due to the mixture of gently curving sides and sharper corners a more dynamic nature is created as the interstices seem to whorl into the centre from which several lotus shapes appear to emerge. If the circular rosette is uniformly stretched in any direction this results in a rosette with an overall elliptical form (Figure 8a).1 The rotating circles become ellipses — although varying in eccentricity unlike the identical set of ellipses making up the previous example. Another variation on the theme of ellipses is given in the pavement in the Campidoglio which was designed by Michaelangelo (although not executed until 1940). The final version shows a more subtle construction than the above uniform stretching. The inner ring is a circle and successive rings are increasingly stretched so as to provide a gradual transition to the outer ellipse. Other patterns can be constructed in a similar way to the circular rosette, but modifying the positions of the circles and/or their size. For instance, the nephroid and cardioid in Figures 8b and 8c retain the same positions for the circles as the rosette but their radii are a function of position. NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 119 In fact, for a rhombus the problem simplifies greatly. The rhombus’s and ellipse’s centres are coincident, and we find that if the lengths of the rhombus’s axes are a and b, then the lengths of the ellipse’s axes are and and are aligned with the conjugate diameters of the rhombus. Moreover, the ellipse’s points of contact with the rhombus are at the four midpoints of the rhombus’s sides. We note that this is also a degenerate case of the problem, solved by Newton, of inscribing ellipses in a convex quadrilateral [Dörri 1965]. Newton found that the centres of all possible inscribed ellipses lie on the straight line segment joining the midpoints of the diagonals of the quadrilateral. For a rhombus the diagonals’ midpoints are coincident, and so there is a single solution for the position of the ellipse. Nevertheless, there remain multiple solutions for the aspect ratio. The construction we have described maximises the ellipse’s area. As Figure 10a shows, the error caused by the approximation incurred by the straight- sided rhombus can be significant. The ellipse appears about the right size, but is shifted in towards the centre of the rosette. As the number of circles increases then the arcs making up the rhombuses’ sides shorten, decreasing the total curvature. This means that the approximation error also decreases, and as can be seen in Figure 10b the ellipses fit the interstices much better. Figure 10. a, b) ellipses located at rhombus centres; c, d) ellipses located at rotated corners of rhombuses; e, f) ellipses located at rhombus centres with curvature correction. PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles120 A couple of simple corrections were tested to see if there was an easy procedure for inscribing the ellipses more accurately. The first correction is based on two corners of the rhombus that are equidistant from the rosette centre. Our original method effectively takes their average as the centre which is therefore placed closer to the rosette centre than the corners. Since it was seen that this was actually too far in, we considered pushing the ellipses out so that their centres become equidistant with the rhombus’s corners. This was done by taking one of the corner points and rotating it to become aligned with the ray through the centre of the rhombus. Figure 10c demonstrates that the errors have been considerably reduced, although the ellipses are no longer in contact with their neighbours. A second approach to the correction is to consider the maximum error between the true circle forming the interstice and the straight line approximation. This is where c is the length of the sides of the rhombuses. The maximum error occurs at the midpoints of the rhombuses’ sides — exactly where the ellipses are supposed to make contact. Pushing out the rhombus midpoint along the ray from the rosette’s centre by this correction factor produces yet better positioned ellipses. Even with few circles in the rosette the errors are barely visible (Figure 10e). An advantage of this scheme over more sophisticated ones is that since the lengths of the interstices are all equal only a single correction value need be calculated for the complete rosette. This also results in the ellipses maintaining contact with their neighbours. Lunes Each pair of adjacent circles can be seen to produce a crescent-shaped slice which is called a lune. One interesting aspect of the lune is its involvement with the classic problem of “squaring the circle”. In the fifth century BC the Greek mathematician Hippocrates succeeded in squaring the lune, i.e. he constructed a square equal in area to the lune. Of course, while this was an impressive feat, it did not unfortunately lead him any closer to squaring the circle! The inscribed ellipses can be considered as being packed into the lunes, and their centres will lie along the middle of the lune—its so-called medial axis. As a simpler problem we consider lunes with inscribed circles as shown in Figure 11. This configuration is reminiscent of the Gothic tracery in rose windows such as that of the cathedral of Sens [Heilbron 1998]. We determine the medial axis by finding the locus of the centres of the circles that are tangent to both arcs of the lune. In our analysis of the lune its bounding circular arcs are centred at (0,0) and (0,m) and we can show that the medial axis is an ellipse with centre and semi-axis lengths a=r, . Setting r=1 and plotting out the medial axis’s aspect ratio a/b for increasing values of m (in units of r), we see that it is generally circle-like except when the lune’s two circles are so widely separated that they barely intersect (Figure 12). As total separation of the circles approaches (i.e. the value of m nears 2r), the aspect ratio of the medial axis tends to infinity. NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 121 Of course, this degree of separation does not occur for a rosette since the most extreme case occurs when there are only three circles (although there is then no rhombus-like interstice to inscribe the ellipse within). The separation between adjacent circle centres is then √3r, which from the graph can be seen to occur just before increased separation of the circles causes large eccentricities. In fact, for the three circle case the aspect ratio of the lunes is exactly 2. Inscribed circles On investigation we find that inscribed circles appear quite regularly, not just as mathematical problems but in a variety of contexts spanning art and science. As previously mentioned, they often occur in Gothic tracery. An extensive example is given by Robert Billings who published in the nineteenth century 100 designs of geometric tracery alongside diagrams of their construction based on four circles touching an outer circle [Billings 1849]. A few years later he continued this theme and published a further 100 designs (see Figure 13), this time based entirely on three inner circles, tangent to each other as well as the outer circle [Billings 1851]. Perhaps the most famous instance of inscribed circles is that of Pappus of Alexandria, who over two thousand years ago described how to inscribe circles into the arbelos — a figure shaped like a shoemaker’s knife. More recently, Dürer also took up inscribed circles as a means of dividing up a lens in an “orderly manner”, as shown in Figure 14. Figure 11. Circles inscribed in a lune. Figure 12. Aspect ratio of medial axis of lune as a function of the separation between the circles (m is in units of r). Figure 13. One of Billing’s 100 diagrams showing patterns of geometric tracery with their underlying constructions. Figure 11 Figure 12 Figure 13 PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles122 This diagram can be generated in the following manner. Let the two circles forming the lens be centred at with radius R. The inscribed circles lie at with radius r i : where: The equations of the circles inscribed in a lune can also be determined, although the process is more laborious (see the Appendix). This enables us to insert circles in the lunes formed by the intersecting circles making up circular rosettes, as shown in figure 15. The rosettes contain two sets of lunes; Figure 15a shows the effect of filling just one set. The circles can be seen as lying on the lunes’ radiating arms. Alternatively, moving out along lune from the centre of the rosette the inscribed circles from all the lunes form a circular chain within the rosette. Although the initial circles are small, the radius of the chain is also small. Both increase until the halfway point of the lunes is reached. Thereafter the circles diminish in size while the radius of the chain continues to increase, creating more and more sparse chains. If both sets of lunes are inscribed with circles (Figure 15b) the circles intersect (except at the outermost rings), generating an additional series of lunes. More practical applications of inscribed circles frequently occur in industrial design, often as a means of providing strength while minimising weight or material. A pair of contrasting examples can be seen in eighteenth century bridge design. In the iron bridge at Sunderland shown in Figure 16a the circles can be thought of as primarily additions to strengthen the structure.3 On the other hand, the inscribed circles in the masonry bridge at Pontypridd (see Figure 16b) are cylinders punched through the spandrels in order to reduce weight, thus appearing as the removal rather than addition of inscribed circles.4 Conformal mappings Following on from the inscribed circles described above it is interesting to note that it is possible to transform a set of inscribed circles into a pattern reminiscent of the rosette with inscribed ellipses that we analysed previously. We shall apply a conformal mapping, i.e. a transformation that preserve local angles. There are many such mappings [Kober 1957], but we shall just consider the anti-Mercator mapping described by Dixon [1991]. It is defined as and its effect is to transform (diagonal) straight lines to equiangular spirals. This enables us to map translational symmetries into rotational symmetries. Figure 17a shows seven columns of circles which are mapped to the seven concentric rings of ovals in figure 17b. For display purposes the top half of the columns have been NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 Figure 14. Dürer’s subdivision of the lens. Figure 15. Circular rosette with additional circles inscribed within the lunes. Figure 16. Bridges containing inscribed circles. clipped. It should be noted that the ovals are egg-shaped rather than elliptical since they contract as they approach the centre of the figure. The circles in each column lie in the range [0, 2p]; increasing the number of circles increases the radial resolution. Columns of circles can be added on both sides of Figure 17a extending towards infinity, increasing the number of concentric rings in Figure 17b. Scaling the x values, i.e. for a scaling factor s perform , varies the rate of radial scaling, enabling the ovals to be stretched or squashed by any amount. Figure 17a also includes interstices that have been added to enclose the circles, and their mapping is included in Figure 17b. To avoid the lines crossing the circles they need to form a lattice of hexagonal elements. The mapped hexagons enclose the ovals, and expand Figure 14 Figure 15 Figure 16 123 PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles outwards from the centre of the rosette; their two radial lines remain straight while the remaining four lines become (mildly) curvilinear. To form a pattern reminiscent of the rosette with inscribed ellipses we superimpose a grid of rhombuses through the points of contact between adjacent circles (Figure 17c). After the mapping curvilinear rhombuses are formed except that unlike the true circular rosette they cut slivers off the ovals (Figure 17d). Another noticeable difference is that this rosette behaves like a logarithmic rather than circular spiral rosette with the ovals increasing in size while maintaining the same aspect ratio [Williams 1999]. Appendix: inscribed circles to a lune For a lune made up from circular arcs of radius r 0 we can determine the parameters of the inscribed circles centred at (x n ,y n ) with radius r n . The first circle is straightforward: x n =0, y 1 =m/2, r 1 =m/2. Thereafter, each inscribed circle in the sequence is found using three constraints involving tangency with three circles: the two that comprise the lune and the previous adjacent inscribed circle. These can be seen as three Pythagorean triangles which leads to three simultaneous equations, which can be solved to give for the second circle thereafter we can determine the remainder of the sequence of circles as 124 NEXUS NETWORK JOURNAL - VOL. 3, NO 2, 2001 Figure 17. Anti-Mercator mapping of a linear grid of circles and lines to a spiral grid. Notes: 1. A similar figure is drawn in Phillips [1839], although it is not further elaborated. 2. The conjugate diameters AB and CD are drawn where AB>CD. A circle centred on the parallelogram’s centre with diameter AB is drawn. A diameter EF of the circle is drawn such that it is perpendicular to AB. The angle ECF is bisected to give the orientation of the ellipse. Its final parameters, the major and minor axes lengths, are calculated as CE±CF. 3. The very first iron bridge ever built (by Abraham Darby III at Coalbrookdale in 1779) is of fairly similar design but only contains a single inscribed circle. 4. The story goes that William Edwards the builder made three attempts to build the bridge. The first bridge was swept away by a flood shortly after completion. Nearing completion the pressure of the heavy work at the spandrels caused the second to spring up in the middle. This lead to the final and successful result which was the longest single span bridge in the UK for half a century. Not only is this considered by many people to be the most beautiful arch bridge in the UK, but it is of significant engineering interest, and has gathered considerable historical and scientific analysis [Hughes et al. 1998]. Acknowledgements I would like to thank Roger Cragg for kindly providing a copy of his photograph of Pontypridd bridge. References Billings, R.W. 1849. The Infinity of Geometric Design Exemplified. Blackwood and Sons. ——— .1851. The Power of Form applied to Geometric Tracery. Blackwood and Sons. Browning, H.C. 1996. The Principles of Architectural Drawing. Watson-Guptill Publications. Dixon, R. 1991. Mathographics. New York: Dover. Dörri, H. 1965. 100 Great Problems of Elementary Mathematics. New York: Dover. 125 PAUL ROSIN - Rosettes and Other Arrangements of Circles Dürer, Albrecht. 1977. The Painter’s Manual - A Manual of Measurement of Lines, Areas and Solids by Means of Compass and Ruler. W. L. Strauss, ed. and trans. New York: Abaris Books. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 1920. Circles. In Essays, 1st series. Dent. Gardner, M. 1965. The superellipse: a curve that lies between the ellipse and the rectangle. Scientific American 21: 222-234. Goodyear, W.H. 1891. The Grammar of the Lotus. Sampson Low and Co. Heilbron, J.L. 1998. Geometry Civilized: History, Culture, and Technique. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hughes, T.G., G.N. Pande and C. Sicilia. 1998. William Edwards Bridge, Pontypridd. Proceeding of the South Wales Institute of Engineers 106: 8-18. Kappraff, Jay. 1999. The Hidden Pavements of Michelangelo’s Lurentian Library. The Mathematical Intelligencer 21, 3 (Summer 1999): 24-29. Kober, H. 1957. Dictionary of Conformal Representations. New York: Dover. Melnick, M. 1994. Manhole Covers. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Nicholson, Ben and Jay Kappraff. 1998. The Hidden Pavement Designs of the Laurentian Library. Pp. 87-98 in Nexus II: Architecture and Mathematics, Kim Williams, ed. Fucecchio (Florence): Edizioni dell’Erba. Phillips, G. 1839. Rudiments of Curvilinear Design. London. Rawles, B. 1997. Sacred Geometry Design Sourcebook: Universal Dimensional Patterns. Elysian Publishers. Schmelzeisen, K. 1992. Römische Mosaiken der Africa Proconsularis - Studien zu Ornamenten, Datierungen und Werkstätten. P. Lang. Weisstein, Eric W. 1998. CRC Concise Encyclopedia of Mathematics. CRC Press. Williams, Kim. 1997. Italian Pavements: Patterns in Space. Anchorage Press. ——— . 1999. Spirals and rosettes in architectural ornament. Nexus Network Journal 1:129-138. About the author Paul L. Rosin is senior lecturer at the Department of Computer Science, Cardiff University. Previous posts include lecturer at the Department of Information Systems and Computing, Brunel University London, UK; research scientist at the Institute for Remote Sensing Applications; Joint Research Centre, Ispra, Italy; and lecturer at Curtin University of Technology, Perth, Australia. His research interests include the representation, segmentation, and grouping of curves, knowledge-based vision systems, early image representations, machine vision approaches to remote sensing, and the analysis of shape in art and architecture. He is the secretary for the British Machine Vision Association. 126 << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /All /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (Dot Gain 20%) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (U.S. Web Coated \050SWOP\051 v2) /sRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CannotEmbedFontPolicy /Warning /CompatibilityLevel 1.4 /CompressObjects /Tags /CompressPages true /ConvertImagesToIndexed true /PassThroughJPEGImages true /CreateJDFFile false /CreateJobTicket false /DefaultRenderingIntent /Default /DetectBlends true /ColorConversionStrategy /LeaveColorUnchanged /DoThumbnails false /EmbedAllFonts true /EmbedJobOptions true /DSCReportingLevel 0 /EmitDSCWarnings false /EndPage -1 /ImageMemory 1048576 /LockDistillerParams false /MaxSubsetPct 100 /Optimize true /OPM 1 /ParseDSCComments true /ParseDSCCommentsForDocInfo true /PreserveCopyPage true /PreserveEPSInfo true /PreserveHalftoneInfo false /PreserveOPIComments false /PreserveOverprintSettings true /StartPage 1 /SubsetFonts true /TransferFunctionInfo /Apply /UCRandBGInfo /Preserve /UsePrologue false /ColorSettingsFile () /AlwaysEmbed [ true ] /NeverEmbed [ true ] /AntiAliasColorImages false /DownsampleColorImages true /ColorImageDownsampleType /Bicubic /ColorImageResolution 300 /ColorImageDepth -1 /ColorImageDownsampleThreshold 1.50000 /EncodeColorImages true /ColorImageFilter /DCTEncode /AutoFilterColorImages true /ColorImageAutoFilterStrategy /JPEG /ColorACSImageDict << /QFactor 0.15 /HSamples [1 1 1 1] /VSamples [1 1 1 1] >> /ColorImageDict << /QFactor 0.15 /HSamples [1 1 1 1] /VSamples [1 1 1 1] >> /JPEG2000ColorACSImageDict << /TileWidth 256 /TileHeight 256 /Quality 30 >> /JPEG2000ColorImageDict << /TileWidth 256 /TileHeight 256 /Quality 30 >> /AntiAliasGrayImages false /DownsampleGrayImages true /GrayImageDownsampleType /Bicubic /GrayImageResolution 300 /GrayImageDepth -1 /GrayImageDownsampleThreshold 1.50000 /EncodeGrayImages true /GrayImageFilter /DCTEncode /AutoFilterGrayImages true /GrayImageAutoFilterStrategy /JPEG /GrayACSImageDict << /QFactor 0.15 /HSamples [1 1 1 1] /VSamples [1 1 1 1] >> /GrayImageDict << /QFactor 0.15 /HSamples [1 1 1 1] /VSamples [1 1 1 1] >> /JPEG2000GrayACSImageDict << /TileWidth 256 /TileHeight 256 /Quality 30 >> /JPEG2000GrayImageDict << /TileWidth 256 /TileHeight 256 /Quality 30 >> /AntiAliasMonoImages false /DownsampleMonoImages true /MonoImageDownsampleType /Bicubic /MonoImageResolution 1200 /MonoImageDepth -1 /MonoImageDownsampleThreshold 1.50000 /EncodeMonoImages true /MonoImageFilter /CCITTFaxEncode /MonoImageDict << /K -1 >> /AllowPSXObjects false /PDFX1aCheck false /PDFX3Check false /PDFXCompliantPDFOnly false /PDFXNoTrimBoxError true /PDFXTrimBoxToMediaBoxOffset [ 0.00000 0.00000 0.00000 0.00000 ] /PDFXSetBleedBoxToMediaBox true /PDFXBleedBoxToTrimBoxOffset [ 0.00000 0.00000 0.00000 0.00000 ] /PDFXOutputIntentProfile () /PDFXOutputCondition () /PDFXRegistryName (http://www.color.org) /PDFXTrapped /Unknown /Description << /FRA <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> /ENU (Use these settings to create PDF documents with higher image resolution for improved printing quality. 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work_tydlfxvurvfqxbvspmtpfndr2i	----	PII: S0378-4371(02)01042-7 Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 www.elsevier.com/locate/physa The physical modelling of society: a historical perspective Philip Ball Nature, 4-6 Crinan St, London N1 9XW, UK Abstract By seeking to uncover the rules of collective human activities, today’s statistical physicists are aiming to return to their roots. Statistics originated in the study of social numbers in the 17th century, and the discovery of statistical invariants in data on births and deaths, crimes and marriages led some scientists and philosophers to conclude that society was governed by immutable “natural” laws beyond the reach of governments, of which the Gaussian “error curve” became regarded as the leitmotif. While statistics .ourished as a mathematical tool of all the sciences in the 19th century, it provoked passionate responses from philosophers, novelists and social commentators. Social statistics also guided Maxwell and Boltzmann towards the utilization of probability distributions in the development of the kinetic theory of gases, the foundation of statistical mechanics. c© 2002 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved. Keywords: Statistics; History of physics; Statistical mechanics; Social science; Gaussian 1. Introduction The introduction of probability into the fundamental nature of the quantum world by Bohr, Born and Schr8odinger in the 1920s famously scandalized some scholars of science’s philosophical foundations. But arguments about chance, probability and determinism were no less heated in the mid-19th century, when statistical ideas entered classical physics. James Clerk Maxwell (1878) let probabilistic physics bring him to the verge of mysticism: “it is the peculiar function of physical science to lead us to the con=nes of the incomprehensible, and to bid us behold and receive it in faith, till such time as the E-mail address: p.ball@btinternet.com (P. Ball). 0378-4371/02/$ - see front matter c© 2002 Elsevier Science B.V. All rights reserved. PII: S 0 3 7 8 - 4 3 7 1 ( 0 2 ) 0 1 0 4 2 - 7 2 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 mystery shall open” [1]. Few scienti=c issues besides Darwinism (itself made statistical by Darwin’s cousin Francis Galton) attracted such debate in the salons, parlours and periodicals of the 19th century. Yet it was not physicists who began this debate, but social scientists. They found that chance and randomness in the world of people and politics, far from banish- ing predictability and making social science oxymoronic, seemed to have laws of their own. This appeared to challenge the notion of free will itself—to widespread dismay. Contemporary eGorts to apply the concepts and methods of statistical physics to social phenomena ranging from economics to traHc .ow, pedestrian motion, decision making, voting and contact networks are therefore essentially completing a circle whose trajectory commenced centuries previously. Work on social statistics in the 19th century had a direct in.uence on the founders of statistical physics, who found within it the con=dence to abandon a strict Newtonian determinism and instead to trust to a “law of large numbers” in dealing with innumerable particles whose individual behaviours were wholly inscrutable. 2. Why are we so predictable? Modern physics-based models of social, economic and political behaviour invoke ide- alizations of human behaviour that might make sociologists blanch. In economics there is, of course, a long history of making mathematical models tractable by gross simpli- =cation of human tendencies, leading to the notorious omniscient rational maximizers known as Homo economicus. But sociology, while aspiring to become a recognizably scienti=c discipline, has been loath to abandon a more complex psychological picture of the individual, embedded in a cultural matrix in which behaviour is governed by many diverse in.uences: custom, religion, economic circumstances, peer pressures and so forth. Evolutionary biologists and sociobiologists such as E.O. Wilson are now call- ing for behavioural models to be grounded in evolutionary models that assume a strong genetic basis for modes of behaviour [2]. At face value, there might seem to be little room left for statistical physics to make a realistic contribution. But if there is one message that emerges clearly from this discipline, it is that sometimes the details do not matter. That, in a nutshell, is what is meant by universality. It does not matter that the Ising model is a ridiculously crude description of a real .uid; they both have the same behaviour at the critical point because in that circumstance only the broad-brush features of the system, such as the dimensionality and range of particle interactions, determine the behaviour. This is a way of saying that collective behaviour tends to be robust, and shared by many apparently diGerent systems. In systems of components that have a tendency both to attract and to repel—to come together or to stay apart—phase transitions are ubiquitous. Models of crime and marriage in which individuals are assumed to gather into certain “camps” according to certain interaction rules [3–5] show classic examples of both =rst-order and critical phase transitions (Fig. 1). A model of alliance formation preceding the Second World War [6] displays a spinodal point at which a metastable P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 3 Severity of criminal justice system C ri m in al p er ce nt ag e of p op ul at io n Strength of social attitudes E con omi c in cen tive to s tay mar ried Proportion of population married (a) (b) Fig. 1. (a) First-order phase transition between states of high- and low-crime rate as a function of the severity of the criminal justice system. (b) The relation between marriage rates, economic incentives and social pressures. The analogy with the P–V–T surface of a .uid is clear. Both =gures are derived from the models in Refs. [4,5]. “energy minimum” vanishes. Europe apparently passed through such a point some time between 1937 and 1938, after which the partitioning of nations into Allied and Axis powers became inevitable. Before this time, an alternative partitioning in which most states allied against the Soviet Union appears also possible, although less likely than that of the eventual historical outcome. Given the ubiquity of phase transitions in physical science, we can hardly be sur- prised that they may become manifest in social science. Yet evolutionary biological models of social science fail to anticipate such collective behaviour because they ig- nore the nonlinearities that interactions can produce. On the whole, such evolutionary models assume that mass human behaviour is a straightforward extrapolation of that of individuals. In this distinction lies the essence of what statistical physics has to oGer social science. The political scientist Michael Lind has recently expressed this in an elegant manner: A friend of mine who raises dogs tells me that you cannot understand them unless you have half a dozen or more. The behaviour of dogs, when assembled in suHcient numbers, undergoes an astonishing change. They instinctively form a disciplined pack. Traditional political philosophers have been in the position of students of canine behaviour who have observed only individual pet dogs [7]. The jettisoning of a great deal of psychological subtlety in physics-based models need not be seen as a na8Qve step that ignores human complexity. Rather, it may simply re.ect the fact that in many social situations our choices are extremely limited. The psychology of vehicle drivers is no doubt a fertile topic for exploration, but it does not alter the fact that most drivers end up trying to drive on the correct side of the road at a comfortable speed while avoiding collisions. In many social situations it is not a bad approximation to assume that we will tend to do what other people are doing. We make our choices for all sorts of reasons that might be subconsciously motivated statements about how we like to see ourselves—but in the end we have to face the simple decision: PC or Mac? 4 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 3. The collective Leviathan Physics-based social modelling is often perceived as a new idea, but in fact it pre- dates Newton. In some sense a mechanistic view of the world began with the Clas- sical Greek philosophers. It becomes contiguous with modern science from the early 17th century: the time of Descartes, Pierre Gassendi, Francis Bacon and Galileo. The Cartesian mechanistic philosophy can be encapsulated in two principles: all phenomena can be understood on the basis of particles of matter in motion, and these motions can be changed only by direct interaction with other particles [8]. Galileo and Newton un- covered the laws that dictated these motions, although of course Newton’s mechanics are not exactly Cartesian. Applied to living creatures, the mechanistic philosophy looks crude today. But the devices used as analogies for the human body in the 17th century—clocks, pumps, water mills and so forth—were the height of technology in their time. It was no greater insult to Nature for Descartes to say that the body is “a machine made by the hands of God” than it is to regard the human brain now as a fantastically complex computer. The =rst person to try to deduce what the mechanical model of the universe meant for human society was the English philosopher Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679) (Fig. 2). Fig. 2. Thomas Hobbes (1588–1679). P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 5 In the 1630s Hobbes became a part of the group of French mechanical empiricists centred around Marin Mersenne, and he travelled to Italy to meet Galileo. During the 1640s he set out to construct a political theory based on Galileo’s precept that, as Hobbes saw it, all bodies seek to remain in motion. The result was =rst De Cive, published in 1642, and then his major work Leviathan, which appeared shortly after the English Civil War in 1651. Leviathan seeks to explain how people can escape the anarchic “State of Nature” in which each person exploits their neighbours and life is “solitary, poore, nasty, brutish, and short”. Hobbes’s answer is that all people must elect a ruler and then relinquish to him all power: basically to create a dictatorship by democratic election. Having just witnessed the horrors of the Civil War (albeit from exile in France), Hobbes appreciated all too well the consequences for a nation that lacked a leader. By inclination a Royalist, Hobbes found an argument that supported absolute monarchy as the only stable way for a nation to govern itself. The striking aspect of Hobbes’s theory from today’s perspective is not its ques- tionable conclusions but its methods. By identifying the intrinsic preferences of indi- viduals and the nature of the interactions between them, Hobbes created a theoretical framework that could be recast without too much eGort as a lattice model whose Nash equilibrium is that which maximizes the “power” of individuals. Later political philoso- phers tended to debate or refute Hobbes’s precepts and conclusions, but did not pay a great deal of attention to his methods. It would be mistaken to think that Hobbes was wholly objective about the outcome of his model, but nevertheless Leviathan is a forerunner of a physics of society in so far as it seeks to progress from de=nite and mechanical rules of behaviour to make a prediction about modes of collective behaviour. 4. The rise of statistics Hobbes’s Leviathan is the collective “Commonwealth”, a kind of organic being com- prised of the wishes and actions of the mass of individuals. Admittedly its ruler is a single person, but that person represents the Commonwealth and is invested with all its power. Hobbes essentially invented the notion of a nation state as a collective entity. What is the character, the properties, of this Leviathan? If it is truly an embodiment of the population as a whole, then we need to ask: what is society like? Are there de=nable characteristics that emerge from the morass of individual behaviours? In the late 17th century, political and natural philosophers, infused with the mechanistic spirit of the dawning Age of Enlightenment, began to wonder whether there was some way of measuring society. Sir William Petty (Fig. 3) was one of those =gures that only the 17th century could produce. He was a scientist, associated with both the rationalist school of Descartes and the empiricists Mersenne and Gassendi, as well as being trained in medicine. He became a founding member and Vice President of the Royal Society, and he was highly politically active, a pupil of Thomas Hobbes, a member of Parliament, and an adviser at diGerent times to Charles I, Oliver Cromwell, Charles II and James II. Petty 6 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 Fig. 3. William Petty (1623–1687). recognized that the study of society could hope to emulate the precision of science only if it became quantitative, and he called for a “political arithmetic”. This induced Petty’s friend, the London haberdasher John Graunt in the 1660s to advocate “social numbers” as a means to guide political policy. Graunt compiled mor- tality tables, reasoning that good legislation and government is impossible without such demographic data. Petty was one of the =rst to study the political economy by means of such numbers—although they led this rather unworldly man to such dry and heart- less political conclusions that Jonathan Swift was inspired to satirize Petty by making the “rational” suggestion that the Irish poor sustain themselves by eating their children. Births and deaths were a major preoccupation of the early pioneers of social statis- tics, including the astronomer Edmund Halley. Astronomers were the principal early bene=ciaries of Newton’s mechanics, and enjoyed a sphere of investigation that was almost uniquely explicable via simple, mathematical laws. So it is not surprising that they feature prominently among the pioneers of “social physics”, the search for law-like behaviour in society. Astronomers appreciated how the numbers of Tycho Brahe had led to the laws of Kepler and Newton. Might social numbers likewise reveal “natural” laws? During the Enlightenment, many philosophers regarded science and rationalism as the key to a utopian era of freedom and equality. Among them was the French mathematician Marquis Marie-Jean-Antoine-Nicolas Caritat de Condorcet (1743–1794) (Fig. 4), whose Esquise d’un Tableau Historique des progr4es de l’Esprit Humain (Sketch for a Historical Picture of the Progress of the Human Mind), written in 1793, is the most optimistic of all science-based utopias. Astonishingly, this was written while Condorcet was on the run from Robespierre’s agents, after he had become convicted of treason for opposing a hastily drafted French Constitution masterminded by P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 7 Fig. 4. The Marquis Marie-Jean-Antoine-Nicolas Caritat de Condorcet (1743–1794). Robespierre. A protTegTe of Jean d’Alembert and one of the founders of probability the- ory, Condorcet was captured in 1794 and, condemned to the guillotine, died in his cell, probably by poisoning himself. The idea that there were laws that stood in relation to society as Newton’s mechanics stood in relation to the motion of the planets was shared by many of Condorcet’s contemporaries. The Baron de Montesquieu (Charles Louis Secondat de la BrUede) asserted as much decades earlier in The Spirit of the Laws (1748). In 1784 Immanuel Kant spoke of “universal laws” which, However obscure their causes, [permit] us to hope that if we attend to the play of freedom of human will in the large, we may be able to discern a regular movement in it, and that what seems complex and chaotic in the single individual may be seen from the standpoint of the human race as a whole to be a steady and progressive though slow evolution of its original endowment [9]. Claude-Henri de Saint-Simon (1760 –1825) shared Condorcet’s dream of a society governed by scienti=c reason, and he imagined that it might lead to the founding of a “Religion of Newton.” On the one hand, this belief in laws of society beyond the reach of governments was a product of the Enlightenment faith in the orderliness of the universe. On the 8 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 Fig. 5. Auguste Comte (1798–1857). other hand, it is not hard to see within it the spectre of the Industrial Revolution with its faceless masses of toiling humanity like so many swarming insects. Before the 19th century, laws that applied to Graunt’s “social numbers”, such as the approximate (short-term) invariance of mortality averages, were regarded as evidence of divine wisdom and planning. To later commentators such as Malthus and Marx, statistical trends became the preconditions for catastrophe and revolution. The term “social physics” was =rst coined by the French political philosopher Auguste Comte (Fig. 5) in the 19th century. In his System of Positive Philosophy (1830 –1842) he argued that this discipline would complete the scienti=c description of the world that Galileo, Newton and others had begun: Now that the human mind has grasped celestial and terrestrial physics, mechani- cal and chemical, organic physics, both vegetable and animal, there remains one science, to =ll up the series of sciences of observation—social physics. This is what men have now most need of; and this it is the principal aim of the present work to establish [10]. 5. The ubiquitous error curve What were these laws of society? The French astronomer Pierre-Simon Laplace (Fig. 6) began to discern an answer. In 1781 he enumerated male and female births in Paris, explaining their near-equality as merely the expected result of a random process, rather than, as thought previously, a sign of God’s wisdom in providing spouses for all. Laplace showed that the variations in these and other social statistics could be described by a universal “error curve”, introduced in 1733 by the mathematician P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 9 Fig. 6. Pierre-Simon Laplace (1749 –1827). Abraham De Moivre to describe the probabilities of coin tossing. The ubiquity of this curve, now familiar as the Gaussian, was then regarded as almost miraculous: a natural law that applied as much to human aGairs as to coins or the errors in measurement of planetary motions [11]. When the Belgian astronomer Adolphe Quetelet (Fig. 7) came to the French Royal Observatory in 1823 to learn from Laplace and Poisson, he was captivated by the sta- tistical regularities in social data that the two French scientists had uncovered. Quetelet recast Comte’s “social physics” as m8ecanique sociale, a mechanical social science based solidly on statistics. In 1832 he wrote that whatever concerns the human species, considered en masse, belongs to the domain of physical facts; the greater the number of individuals, the more the individual will is submerged beneath the series of general facts which depend on the general causes according to which society exists and is conserved [12]. Quetelet’s popularization of Laplace’s data impressed people in many =elds. The sci- entist John Herschel spoke approvingly of the work in 1850. Florence Nightingale pro- posed that Quetelet’s social mechanics be taught at Oxford; Karl Marx used Quetelet’s statistical laws in developing his labour theory of value. And the utilitarian political philosopher John Stuart Mill felt that Quetelet’s work lent support for his conviction 10 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 Fig. 7. Adolphe Quetelet (1796 –1874). that society and history were bound by laws as absolute as (if harder to discern than) those of the natural sciences. In A System of Logic (1862), Mill had the universal error curve in mind when he wrote, very events which in their own nature appear most capricious and uncertain, and which in any individual case no attainable degree of knowledge would enable us to foresee, occur, when considerable numbers are taken into the account, with a degree of regularity approaching to mathematical [13]. But the most visible exposition of these laws was given in the epic (and misnamed) History of Civilization in England (1857–1861) by Henry Thomas Buckle (1821– 1862), who believed that history had a law-like inevitability. “The great truth”, he said, is “that the actions of men: : : are in reality never inconsistent, but however capricious they may appear only form part of one vast system of universal order” [14]. Buckle, like Adam Smith in the previous century, argued for the principle of political laissez-faire, and for the ability of people to govern themselves. Left to their own devices, he thought, societies automatically produced “order, symmetry, and law”, while “lawgivers are nearly always the obstructors of society, instead of its helpers”. Political philosophers had, in Buckle’s view, in the past pursued the futile quest of trying to unravel the way society works by asking what makes individuals tick. The P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 11 empirical science of social statistics avoided such imponderables by discovering laws amongst the numbers. Buckle laid out his case in his History, although he died before he could complete the third and =nal volume. The book excited intense discussion among social commentators of all sorts. At times, Buckle seemed to imply a compulsion whereby individuals would =nd themselves acting in a certain way to ful=l statistical quotas. That seemed to undermine the very notion of free will. Ralph Waldo Emerson mocked what he saw as the absurd rigidity of the idea: “Punch makes exactly one capital joke per week; and the journals contrive to furnish one good piece of news every day” [15]. In Notes From the Underground, Fyodor Dostoevsky had Buckle in mind when his narrator raves that man would rather make himself mad than be constrained by law-like reason. Friedrich Nietzsche, whose belief in the shaping of history by a few “great men” was second to none, was characteristically acerbic: “so far as there are laws in history, laws are worth nothing and history is worth nothing”. In his more measured way, Tolstoy struggled in War and Peace with the questions posed by Buckle’s deterministic view of history, with what he called the “relation of free will to necessity”. Maurice Evan Hare was more whimsical in 1905: There once was a man who said “Damn!” It is borne in upon me I am An engine that moves In predestinate grooves I’m not even a bus, I’m a tram [16]. 6. Physics becomes statistical One of the book’s earliest readers was more favourably impressed. Although he found it “bumptious”, he concluded that nevertheless it contained “a great deal of actually original matter, the result of fertile study, and not mere brainspinning” [17]. This reader was James Clerk Maxwell (Fig. 8). When Maxwell came to study the problem of gases in which the constituent particles were constantly engaging in colli- sions that no one could hope to observe or to follow, he recognized this as a problem in the same class as those that Buckle had pondered in society, in which the immediate causes of individual behaviour must forever be inscrutable: the smallest portion of matter which we can subject to experiment consists of millions of molecules, not one of which ever becomes individually sensible to us. We cannot, therefore, ascertain the actual motions of any one of these molecules; so that we are obliged to abandon the strict historical method, and to adopt the statistical method of dealing with large groups of molecules... In studying the relations between quantities of this kind, we meet with a new kind of regularity, the regularity of averages, which we can depend upon quite suHciently for all practical purposes [18]. 12 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 Fig. 8. James Clerk Maxwell (1831–1879). As he indicated later in 1873, the experiences of “social physicists” lent him con=dence that this statistical approach could extract order from the microscopic chaos: those uniformities which we observe in our experiments with quantities of matter containing millions of millions of molecules are uniformities of the same kind as those explained by Laplace and wondered at by Buckle arising from the slumping together of multitudes of causes each of which is by no means uniform with the others [19]. Would Maxwell have dared abandon the “strict historical method”—the obligation to explain everything in terms of Newtonian mechanics of particles on =xed trajectories— if studies of society had not shown the presence of laws even in complex systems where the direct causes were obscure? How otherwise might he have found the faith to look for laws in the face of woefully incomplete knowledge about motions? Maxwell began his work on the kinetic theory of gases shortly after reading Buckle’s writings. But in his early work he also drew on the more analytical studies of Quetelet, whose wide application of the error curve came to his attention via John Hershel. Herschel himself alluded to connections between social physics and the early kinetic theory of gases. P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 13 Maxwell knew that Rudolf Clausius had used probability laws in 1857 to deduce the eGects of molecular collisions on the pressure exerted by a gas on the walls that contained it. But Clausius was interested only in the average velocity of the particles. Maxwell wanted to know how the velocities were distributed around this average. If the error curve worked so well for describing variations from the average in social physics, Maxwell decided that would suHce for him too. So he built the Gaussian distribution into the theory. Maxwell’s velocity distribution was merely an assumption until Ludwig Boltzmann showed in 1872 that any group of randomly moving particles in a gas must converge on this distribution. Boltzmann also knew of Buckle’s work, and drew analogies between his particles and the individuals in the social censuses that furnished Buckle’s statistics: The molecules are like so many individuals, having the most various states of motion, and the properties of gases only remain unaltered because the number of these molecules which on the average have a given state of motion is constant [20]. He likened the gas laws, a statement of the invariance of statistical averages, to the uniform pro=ts of insurance companies. In 1886, Maxwell’s friend Peter Guthrie Tait compared the statistical approach of the kinetic theory with the extraordinary steadiness with which the numbers of such totally unpredictable, though not uncommon phenomena as suicides, twin or triple births, dead letters, & c., in any populous country, are maintained year after year [21]. (“Dead letters” are those that remain in the postal system because they are badly addressed. Laplace had commented on how this was a constant fraction of the total turnover of the postal service.) Statistics, entering physics through the agency of social science, soon came to dom- inate it. Erwin Schr8odinger makes it clear in 1944 that he considers laboratory-scale physics to be statistical rather than deterministic: “physical laws rest on atomic statis- tics and are therefore only approximate: : : only in the cooperation of an enormously large number of atoms do statistical laws began to operate: : : it is in that way that the events acquire truly orderly features” [22]. Schr8odinger implies that one can discuss molecules only in statistical terms. (With the innovations in single-molecule studies over the past decade, Newtonian mechanics have returned to the microworld.) The statistical nature of quantum mechanics is diGerent from that of classical physics, as it invokes variables whose values are not just unknown but unknowable. Nonetheless, quantum probability would have had a rockier path if physicists had not already been prepared by the knowledge that a statistical approach does not preclude the existence of precise laws. As early as 1918, the physicist Marian Smoluchowski considered probability to be central to modern physics: only Lorentz’s equations, electron theory, the energy law, and the principle of relativity have remained unaGected, but it is quite possible that in the course of time exact laws may even here be replaced by statistical regularities [23]. 14 P. Ball / Physica A 314 (2002) 1 – 14 The way to statistical science would have been more tortured if 19th century experience with social statistics had not given scientists the con=dence to believe that large-scale order and regularity in nature can arise even when we do not know, or cannot even meaningfully propose, a determining cause for each event. In such situations, we must trust that there are laws within large numbers. References [1] J.C. Maxwell, in: W.D. Niven (Ed.), Scienti=c Papers of James Clerk Maxwell, Vol. 2, Cambridge, 1890, pp. 715 –717. [2] E.O. Wilson, Consilience, Alfred A. Knopf, New York, 1998. [3] P. Ormerod, Butter.y Economics, Faber & Faber, London, 1998. [4] M. Campbell, P. Ormerod, Social interaction and the dynamics of crime, Preprint, 2000. [5] P. Ormerod, M. Campbell, The evolution of family structures in a social context, Preprint, May 2000. [6] R. Axelrod, D.S. Bennett, A landscape theory of aggregation, Br. J. Political Sci. 23 (1993) 211–233. [7] M. Lind, Prospect December, 2001, p. 20. [8] R. Olson, Science Dei=ed and Science De=ed, Vol. 2, University of California Press, Berkeley, 1990. [9] I. Kant, in: L. Beck (Ed.), On History, Indianapolis, 1963, p. 11. [10] A. Comte, System of positive philosophy, in: R. Bierstedt (Ed.), The Making of Society, Random House, New York, 1959, p. 192. [11] See T.M. Porter, The Rise of Statistical Thinking, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ, 1986. [12] A. Quetelet, Recherches sur le penchant au crime aux diGTerens ages, Nouveaux mTemoires de l’acadTemie royale des sciences et belles-lettres de Bruxelles 7 (1835) 136. [13] J.S. Mill, A system of logic, in: J.M. Robson (Ed.), Collected Works, Vols. 7–8, Toronto, 1973, p. 932. [14] H.T. Buckle, History of Civilization in England (1857– 61), quoted in: F. Stern (Ed.), The Varieties of History from Voltaire to the Present, London, 1970, pp. 121–132. [15] R.W. Emerson, Fate, in: The Conduct of Life & Other Essays, J.M. Dent, London, 1908, p. 159. [16] Quoted in N. Ferguson, Virtual History, Picador, London, 1997, p. 446. [17] L. Campbell, W. Garnett, The Life of James Clerk Maxwell, London, 1882, pp. 294 –295. [18] J.C. Maxwell, Molecules, in: W.D. Niven (Ed.), The Scienti=c Papers of James Clerk Maxwell, Vol. 2, Cambridge, 1890, p. 374. [19] L. Campbell, W. Garnett, The Life of James Clerk Maxwell, London, 1882, pp. 438– 439. [20] L. Boltzmann, Weitere Studien 8uber das W8armegleichegewicht unter Gasmolek8ulen, in: F. Hasen8ohrl (Ed.), Wissenschaftliche Abhandlungen, Vol. 1, Leipzig, 1909, p. 317. [21] P.G. Tait, On the foundations of the kinetic theory of gases, in: Scienti=c Papers, Vol. 2, Cambridge, 1898–1900, p. 126. [22] E. Schr8odinger, What is Life?, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1944. [23] M. Smoluchowski, 8Uber den BegriG des Zufalls und den Ursprung der Wahrscheinlichkeitgesetz in der Physik, in: Oeuvres, Vol. 3, Cracow, 1924 –28, p. 87. The physical modelling of society:a historical perspective Introduction Why are we so predictable? The collective Leviathan The rise of statistics The ubiquitous error curve Physics becomes statistical References 
work_u2o22pqdp5hatfe6as6zwuurx4	----	PROFILE Ben Sangari: “It’s About the Science, Stupid!” Mick Wycoff Published online: 11 June 2008 # Springer Science + Business Media, LLC 2008 Since last May, Brazilians in Saõ Paulo and Rio de Janiero have been treated to a new kind of exhibition at some of their most iconic art museums. Thanks to the efforts of the innovative entrepreneur Ben Sangari and his brilliant Instituto Sangari team, two very different and equally wonderful evolution exhibitions are thrilling record crowds of adults and schoolchildren with the beauty and glory of science. First came Darwin, which originated at the American Museum of Natural History (AMNH) in New York City in November, 2005. Next was the AMNH show The Genomic Revolution (A separate review of the exhibitions follows this article). Both shows have been translated and expanded to reflect Brazilian history and environments. Darwin and The Genomic Revolution will be touring Brazil at length, offering the general public and countless more schoolchildren a compelling introduction to the subject and implications of evolution. This is just one opening volley in a scientific revolution Sangari hopes to achieve in public education. How does a revolution get started? The classic scenario features a charismatic young visionary with heroic leader- ship skills, whose fiery message calls up the masses to fight at the barricades for their rights. But what if the battlefield were the classroom? What if the hearts and minds to be changed belonged to the 2.5 million elementary and secondary teachers of Brazil? What if the firebrand were more businessman than wild-eyed radical? That firebrand would be Ben Sangari, and that revolution has already begun—with a few strokes of the pen. Just a few months ago, Instituto Sangari signed a contract with Brazil’s richest state, the populous Federal District of Saõ Paulo, which may well prove to be the educational “shot heard round the world.”1 A British transplant of Iranian origin, Ben Sangari looks far more Etonian than revolutionary with his polished manners, combed-back hair and trimly tailored suits (Fig. 1). A bit over forty, clean-shaven, deeply cultured and well educated, he seems very much the English gentleman—although Sangari is now permanently settled in Brazil. Take the personal tour of his vast Saõ Paulo factory where the revolution’s educational matériel is produced and assembled and you will detect a grand industrialist spirit infused with the passionate enthusiasm of a born teacher. The factory is built to supply thousands of Brazilian elementary and junior high schools with what amounts to an entire curriculum in a cabinet. CTC for short, its full name in Portuguese is Ciencia e Tecnologia com Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 DOI 10.1007/s12052-008-0062-7 M. Wycoff (*) 433 East Saddle River Road, Ridgewood, NJ 07450, USA e-mail: meldredge@earthlink.net 1 From the Concord Hymn by Ralph Waldo Emerson, written in 1837 in dedication of a monument commemorating the Revolutionary War battle of Lexington and Concord: By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled; Here once the embattled farmers stood; And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps, And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream that seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone, That memory may their deeds redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone. O Thou who made those heroes dare To die, and leave their children free, — Bid Time and Nature gently spare The shaft we raised to them and Thee. Criatividade (Science and Technology with Creativity). After 10 years of testing and fine-tuning involving schools throughout Brazil and hundreds of education professionals, CTC offers a series of hands-on lessons about the natural world that promote creative thinking, integrated multi- discipline learning, and the growth of self-esteem (Fig. 2). The drive that fuels Sangari’s vision of social revolution is decidedly more Ghandi than Che: it demands freedom for a change in the viewpoint and practice of the people themselves, rather than a change of politics. But perhaps what the CTC version of “power to the people” most recalls is what Henry Ford gave the world: a way to build an engine almost anybody could afford. Ford developed the production line, created the Model A and established US automobile manufacture as one of the nation’s leading twentieth century industries. Now, as Brazil is poised at the twenty-first century’s opening decade to surge forward as an economic world leader, the engine Ben Sangari wants to build is a new generation of scientifically literate students. He sees science as the engine of culture that “everything else stems from” and updates Bill Clinton’s insight that “it’s the economy, stupid!” with his mantra for the future: “It’s the science, stupid!” (Fig. 3). Ben tells a key story about his own self-discovery through science. After a build-your-own-circuit kit fell into his hands around the time he was eight or nine, a trial-and- error session of experimentation led to a literal light-bulb experience. He swears that the thrill of wiring a circuit, hitting the switch and seeing the light changed his life forever. He remembers that, “What I felt was, ‘I can.’ It was the most powerful feeling I ever had in my life. I grew up with an incredible confidence: with my hands and my head applied, I can do anything.” Years later, Ben Sangari drew on that very experience to develop a CTC kit which supplies the batteries, wire, switch, light bulb, and all—and challenges students to figure out the connections as he did himself. At one CTC inner-city pilot program in Saõ Paulo, an on-site video interview captured a young student who had just successfully completed the experiment. Sangari glows with pride as he recounts the boy’s halting efforts to express his feelings. After a good deal of camera-shy foot shuffling and tongue-tied searching for words to express an entirely new concept, “He came up with the most amazing thing,” Sangari marvels. What this underprivileged child of Fig. 2 Steel CTC cabinets keep termites at bay. Credit: Instituto Sangari Fig. 1 Ben Sangari, President of Instituto Sangari. Credit: Monica Carvalho—Casa Catorze 324 Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 the ghetto said was, “I want to be better.” As far as the father of CTC is concerned, “That’s it! I’m done with that kid. Now I’m sure he can go on and have the most amazing life. That’s what education should be about. It’s not about the content, it’s not about the exams. It’s about getting those kids to understand their own potential.” (Fig. 4). Possibly the most radical aspect of CTC is an avowed effort to take the accent off teachers and make students the stars of the classroom. Like many successful businessmen, Sangari is a savvy psychologist, who observes, “it’s human nature, you know, when we do things to improve the educational system, even subconsciously perhaps, we’re trying to do things to improve the life of the adults. We’re kind of forgetting the kids.” He thinks the role of the teacher should be to stimulate learning and create an environment where students take responsibility for finding solutions to the challenges posed by CTC lessons. “I am not sure we can actually teach,” muses Sangari. Sangari laments that what teachers learn in training programs categorically does not help improve student performance, according to research including a major 2005 US Federal study. What does happen is that the novice is generally thrust into a classroom with zero support system. This process Sangari likens to the clinical practice of a solo physician: substitute a thermometer and stethoscope for the blackboard and chalk-doctoring minus the nurses and orderlies, the four-star medical facilities, the sophisticated drugs and so on, that make modern medicine the miracle it is. So while the CTC approach is profoundly student-oriented, it does provide masses of teacher support too. It is just that this kind of support is a lot more user- Fig. 4 Fun with electricity can lead to scientific enlightenment. Credit: Instituto Sangari Fig. 3 The core curriculum ranges from basic biology to physics. Credit: Instituto Sangari Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 325325 friendly than taking a college science course. There are detailed teacher guides to back up every class lesson, along with videos and web support. And just as with the students, it is a self-teaching approach with plenty of opportunity to grasp basics quickly, then explore at will … plus, it is so clear that even a substitute could step in and stay with the program. There is also an extended master-teacher/mentor- ing hierarchy reaching down from headquarters to Sangari- trained educational specialists throughout CTC school districts around the country who serve as mentors to reach individual teachers and also keep up the flow of feedback from the field (Fig. 5). Sangari thinks of the movie “Matrix” as a sort of metaphor for what CTC should do for a teacher. “That exoskeleton concept where you take a normal human and turn it into a superhuman, that was interesting: How do you create an exoskeleton for a teacher? Every teacher that I have met wants to do a good job. Everyone wants to have some form of job satisfaction, and they want to see that light going on in the minds of their students—that is the greatest reward, and when that happens, that justifies their lives. How do you help them become better teachers without asking the impossible? Without asking them to become different people?” Sangari’s answer, of course, is to give them CTC, but like most worthwhile projects, it was not easy, it cost a lot more money, and took a lot longer than expected. “It was very ambitious,” Sangari admits. “I felt that it would be something that would take us two or three years to do. It ended up taking almost ten years with a budget that is orders of magnitude different than what I had imagined.” It took so long, he explains, because “you need something on a mass scale that’s reproducible, scalable, something that works in the capitol, in the urban areas, in rural areas, in suburbs, the interior, the area of the Amazon where you don’t even have roads. It’s got to work in the worst schools, the best schools, with the best teachers, the worst teachers.” Furthermore, it has to work under the worst conditions as well as the best. For example, while wood might have been good to use for CTC cabinets, the swarming termites of Brazil’s tropical regions made metal the only choice. Likewise, while renewable CTC materials such as packets of seed and soil are restocked often, research elements such as hand lenses and microscopes feature sturdy, low-tech design built to last (Fig. 6). Regardless of a nation’s wealth, Sangari sees the same educational deficits in every country. “We’re having problems with basic reading and writing, with mathematics, Fig. 5 Each CTC unit includes clear, well-researched teacher materials. Credit: Instituto Sangari 326 Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 let alone science. This is not a problem just in Brazil, or just in the States, it's everywhere.” The solution is an integrated approach where age-appropriate science projects give students concrete challenges that motivate them to read and calculate in a meaningful context. The model is so successful and powerful that reports from all over Brazil reveal teachers using CTC kits as the basis for lessons in reading and mathematics too. Lessons employ the very elements surrounding the school—air, earth, water, plants— to get kids involved with the curriculum and cooperating with one another. Each unit is designed to strengthen problem-solving and decision-making skills that are in turn dependent on the development of observation and analytical skills, as well as logical thinking and investigative powers. In short, CTC accents all the natural experimentation, curiosity, sense of independence, and downright fun too often drained from childhood in the schoolroom setting (Fig. 7). As a father himself, Sangari knows first-hand how fearless and adventurous even the youngest babies are as they set out to master their universe. That experience gave him the gut knowledge to counter professional educators who believe children must be literate before they tackle the principles of science. He compares the three R’s to the screwdrivers and wrenches handed to a student of auto mechanics: you don't start with a 6-month course about tools. “The teacher says, ‘here is an engine—take it apart. You pick up the tool box and figure it out.’ That’s why I can say with conviction that you don’t need to know how to Fig. 7 Working together on a plant unit offers good fun, good science, and valuable lessons in teamwork. Credit: Instituto Sangari Fig. 6 Durable, low-tech elements of the CTC program are built to survive many classroom cycles. Credit: Instituto Sangari Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 327327 read and write to learn. But you do need to instill the desire to learn to read and write.” Admittedly, CTC puts process before content, and entire curriculum topics, such as evolution, are missing entirely. “It’s about giving them the basics,” Sangari explains. “It’s about getting them excited so they want to learn.” After all, Brazilian elementary schools dedicate just one hour a week to science study, he reports, although Instituto Sangari has negotiated the allotment up to four hours a week in its contract with the Federal District. Successful as it is, CTC remains a work in progress. “We are going to create an evolution component and a lot of other components,” Sangari promises, but he points out that if school is not interesting, students would not connect with the content anyway, while “If the kid gets stimulated enough, he can go on Google and in two minutes, it’s all there for him if he really wants it. Evolution is there. You just have to wake them up to it. I feel we are doing this.” If you count his two traveling exhibits, about the genome and Charles Darwin, it could be argued that Sangari is busy waking up the entire nation to evolution (Fig. 8). So is there a CTC revolution coming soon to your neighborhood? Maybe not this semester, but anybody familiar with Ben Sangari’s energy and drive will not be surprised to learn that CTC is already in some European and Southeast Asian schools, while Instituto Sangari lists a prominent US educator as a member of the board, and the English translation of CTC is currently under way. Fig. 8 As Charles Darwin knew, simple tools can open new worlds to the prepared mind. Credit: Instituto Sangari 328 Evo Edu Outreach (2008) 1:323–328 Ben Sangari: “It’s About the Science, Stupid!” 
work_u3iime7krzbuni3upt6nplbere	----	[PDF] The Agricultural Ethics of Biofuels: A First Look | Semantic Scholar Skip to search formSkip to main content> Semantic Scholar's Logo Search Sign InCreate Free Account You are currently offline. Some features of the site may not work correctly. DOI:10.1007/S10806-007-9073-6 Corpus ID: 1095391The Agricultural Ethics of Biofuels: A First Look @article{Thompson2008TheAE, title={The Agricultural Ethics of Biofuels: A First Look}, author={P. Thompson}, journal={Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics}, year={2008}, volume={21}, pages={183-198} } P. Thompson Published 2008 Sociology Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics A noticeable push toward using agricultural crops for ethanol production and for undertaking research to expand the range of possible biofuels began to dominate discussions of agricultural science and policy in the United States around 2005. This paper proposes two complementary philosophical approaches to examining the philosophical questions that should be posed in connection with this turn of events. One stresses a critique of underlying epistemological commitments in the scientific models… Expand View on Springer econ2.econ.iastate.edu Save to Library Create Alert Cite Launch Research Feed Share This Paper 40 CitationsBackground Citations 16 Methods Citations 1 View All 40 Citations Citation Type Citation Type All Types Cites Results Cites Methods Cites Background Has PDF Publication Type Author More Filters More Filters Filters Sort by Relevance Sort by Most Influenced Papers Sort by Citation Count Sort by Recency The agricultural ethics of biofuels: climate ethics and mitigation arguments P. Thompson Sociology, Medicine Poiesis Prax. 2012 13 PDF View 4 excerpts, cites background Save Alert Research Feed Agricultural biofuels: two ethical issues. P. Thompson Environmental Science 2008 6 PDF Save Alert Research Feed The Agricultural Ethics of Biofuels: The Food vs. Fuel Debate P. Thompson Business 2012 91 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Technology and Controversy: The Case of Biofuels P. Boucher Engineering 2011 View 1 excerpt, cites background Save Alert Research Feed Constructing 'the ethical' in the development of biofuels R. D. Smith Political Science 2016 1 PDF Save Alert Research Feed Biofuels: ethics and policy‐making A. Buyx, J. Tait Business 2011 13 Save Alert Research Feed Ethical challenges in modern and profitable agriculture J. Turk, T. Price, A. Ivancic Economics 2011 1 Save Alert Research Feed Biofuels: Efficiency, Ethics, and Limits to Human Appropriation of Ecosystem Services T. Gomiero, M. G. Paoletti, D. Pimentel Economics 2010 90 PDF View 2 excerpts, cites methods and background Save Alert Research Feed Ethics and biofuels D. Macer Economics 2011 2 Save Alert Research Feed Agroecology as a Transdisciplinary Science for a Sustainable Agriculture F. Caporali Environmental Science 2010 17 Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 ... References SHOWING 1-10 OF 39 REFERENCES SORT BYRelevance Most Influenced Papers Recency Biotechnology, ethics, and the structure of agriculture J. Burkhardt Economics 1988 20 View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Agricultural Biotechnology and the Future Benefits Argument J. Burkhardt Economics 2001 25 View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed The Reshaping of Conventional Farming: A North American Perspective P. Thompson Sociology 2001 38 Save Alert Research Feed How science makes environmental controversies worse D. Sarewitz Economics 2004 941 Highly Influential PDF View 3 excerpts, references background Save Alert Research Feed The Agrarian Roots of Pragmatism P. Thompson, T. Hilde Political Science 2000 27 Save Alert Research Feed Losing ground: Farmland preservation, economic utilitarianism, and the erosion of the agrarian ideal M. Mariola Economics 2005 39 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Agriculture as a source of fuel prospects and impacts, 2007 to 2017 J. Ferris, Satish Joshi Economics 2007 5 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Agricultural ethics : research, teaching, and public policy P. Thompson Political Science 1998 59 View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Old Efforts at New Uses: A Brief History of Chemurgy and the American Search for Biobased Materials M. Finlay Economics 2003 58 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed Both Sides Now G. Stone Political Science Current Anthropology 2002 129 PDF View 1 excerpt, references background Save Alert Research Feed ... 1 2 3 4 ... 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work_u7oi5dyh5bhx7fnsvqsktld7qa	----	02英語英米文学論輯15_17_34_山下_cs4.indd 17 Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 山 下 あ や 詩人エミリィ・ディキンスン（Emily Dickinson, 1830－1886）が亡くなる 前年の1885年に、義姉スーザン（Suzan Dickinson）に宛てて書いた書簡には、 「深淵から現れ、そこにまた入る、それが生でしょう？」（“Emerging from an abyss, and re-entering it, —that is Life, is it not, Dear?” L 10241）という興 味深い一節がある。この書簡でディキンスンが言及する「深淵」（“abyss”） は、「現れ」、そこに「再び入る」という記述から、ディキンスンの死生観を 示唆しているため、彼女の詩を考える際に大いに参考となることばである。 まず、“abyss”ということば自体が持つ意味については、ディキンスンが使っ ていたとされる Webster の辞書、OED、そして、それらを含む包括的なディ キンスン辞書である Emily Dickinson Lexicon が参考になる。まず、Webster 1828年版の“abyss”の項には、「底なしの深い淵」（“A bottomless gulf”）、「地 球の測り知れないほど大きく暗い場所」（“an immense cavern in the earth”） などの意味が示されている。さらに、創世記1章2節「地は混沌であって、 闇が深淵の面にあり、神の霊が水の面を動いていた」2 という箇所の深淵の イメージが引用されている。その上、「地獄」（“hell”）そして「『原初の暗黒』 『冥界』の意の擬人神 ; Chaos の子とされる」3 エレバス（“Erebus”）、さらに はミルトンやドライデンの引用もある。次に Oxford English Dictionary の “abyss”の項には、「深遠なる深み」（“The great deep”）、「地獄のような穴」 （“the infernal pit”）そして“A bottomless gulf”といった深みの記述が続く。 これらの辞書の記述と、ディキンスンの詩における“abyss”ということばの 使い方から作成された Emily Dickinson Lexicon4 には、以下のような“abyss” の項がある。 18 山 下 あ や A．Air; atmosphere; space. B．Chasm; gap; breach; void space; ［fig.］ grave; sepulcher. C．Unmeasurable space; empty place. D．Bottomless gulf; deep mass of water. Lexicon を参照すると“abyss”ということばは「大気・空間、裂け目（墓の イメージ）、測り知れない無の空間、深海」の意味を含むことが分かる。 この小論ではディキンスンの詩の中で“abyss”を使用している全6編の詩 を推定創作年代順に採り上げ、“abyss”が実際に詩の中でどのような意味で 使われているかを考察し、ディキンスンの詩における「深淵」の意味を探る こととする。 １．「深淵」の初出 ディキンスンは1862年初頭に、自然の神秘を表現した詩の中で“abyss”と いうことばを初めて使った。 How the old Mountains drip with Sunset How the Hemlocks burn— How the Dun Brake is draped in Cinder By the Wizard Sun— How the old Steeples hand the Scarlet Till the Ball is full— Have I the lip of the Flamingo That I dare to tell? （第1、第2連） “How the old Mountains drip with Sunset” （Fr 327）5 で始まるこの詩において、 どのように「魔法の太陽によって」、「山々が夕陽で滴り／栂の木が燃え／草 むらが燃え殻で覆われる」のかと、問うような口調で詩の第1連は始まる。 夕陽に液体のような質感と流動性を持たせ、山の木々が夕陽に染まる様子を Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 19 山火事のように表現し、山の表面の草むらの凹凸や陰影を、「燃え殻で覆わ れる」という表現で想像させる。そしてそれらは太陽の魔法だとする。第2 連では“the Ball”、即ち沈む太陽の赤い輪郭が完全になるまで、尖塔が緋色 を導く。語り手は「フラミンゴの唇」（“the lip of the Flamingo”）を持ってい ない。Flame が語源であるフラミンゴは炎の色と重ねられ夕陽の色を表現す ることばであるため、間接的に語り手は、“tell”の目的語である“How”以下 を語る「唇」を持っていないと示す。 次の第3連からは、山火事の炎のように表現された夕陽の光が、大波に形 を変えて表現される。 Then, how the Fire ebbs like Billows— Touching all the Grass With a departing—Sapphire—feature— As a Duchess passed— How a small Dusk crawls on the Village Till the Houses blot And the odd Flambeau, no men carr y Glimmer on the Street— （第2、第3連） 夕陽が大波のように草原に「触れ」、そして「離れ」、サファイアの濃紺色に あたりを染め、村では夕暮れが家々を塗りつぶす様子が描かれる。再び Flame を語源に持つ松明（“Flambeau”）が提示され、「誰も運べない奇妙な 松明」として表現される夕影は道を明滅する。それらの様子を、語り手は “How”を繰り返して思い巡らせる。 次の第5連で、いよいよ“abyss”が登場する。 How it is Night—in Nest and Kennel— And where was the Wood— Just a Dome of Abyss is Bowing 20 山 下 あ や Into Solitude— （第5連） 語り手は「夜はどんな風でしょう─巣や巣穴の中では─ / そして木々が あった場所では─ / ただ深淵の円 ド ー ム 屋根がおじぎする / 孤独の中へと─」と 日がとっぷりと暮れた森の中の様子に言及している。他の連では多彩な色彩 描写がされるが、第5連では代わりに完全な暗闇が表現され、その様子は日 没の到達点と解釈できる。「木々があった場所」（“where was the Wood”）で はそれらの輪郭が闇に溶けてしまい、見えなくなっている。上方を見上げる と「深淵の円 ド ー ム 屋根」（“a Dome of Abyss”）が“Solitude”へと腰をかがめる。 「（場所などの）隔絶」という意味ももつ“Solitude”を使用することで、日没 後の完全な暗闇が強調される。 These are the Visions flitted Guido— Titian—never told— Domenichino dropped his pencil— Paralyzed, with Gold— （最終連） 最終連では、シエナ派で鮮やかな色彩で知られたミニアチュール作家 Guido da Siena、また色彩の豊かさで有名だったヴェネツィア派の最も重要な人物 Tiziano Vecellio、そしてフレスコ画で名を馳せたボロニア派画家 Domenico Zampieri といったイタリアルネサンスの画家たちが列挙される。この詩で 述べられてきた美しい夕映えは、Farr が言うようにルネサンスの偉大な芸 術家でさえ「どれほど自然が美しいかを決して完全には語ることができな い」（Farr 61）。炎のイメージから繋がる、その火種を燻らせた燃え殻の色、 緋色に染められた尖塔にフラミンゴ色、サファイアの濃紺、街路をちらちら と明滅する稀有な松明の炎といった“Gold”はディキンスンが第5連の、世 界から隔絶されたような暗闇の深淵即ち“Solitude”を確かに認識したことに よって「語られ」（“told”）た。 Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 21 2．詩作最盛期における「深淵」 ディキンスンの詩作の円熟期は一般に1860年代前半と言われる。この時期 には、“I had a terror─since September─I could tell to no one─and so I sing, as the Boy does by the Bur ying Ground─because I am afraid” （L 261） という書簡が書かれた。彼女は1861年9月から、何かしらの“terror”を抱い ていたことがこの書簡から推測できる。その“terror”についての批評家たち の議論は様々である。しかし以下の1865年の書簡の一節を見ると、ディキン スン自身の失明への恐怖が関係していたのではないかと理解することもでき る。失明への恐怖と断言することは出来ないとしても、1861年には、確かに 恐怖が生を脅かすほどの「苦悩」（“woe”）があったことが推定される。 Some years ago I had a woe, the only one that ever made me tremble. It was a shutting out of all the dearest ones of time, the strongest friends of the soul ─BOOKS［.］ The medical man said avaunt ye books tormentors, … He might as well have said, “Eyes be blind”, “heart be still”［sic］. （Sewall, Lyman Letter, 76） ディキンスンは“terror”を経験した（1861年9月）直後に詩の中で“abyss” を初めて使用し（1862年初頭）、「深淵」の認識後も、時に重々しい意味を 伴ってそれを使用した。ディキンスンの心の内に燻っていた闇や深みが改め て認識され、それを詩の中で「深淵」に投影し、心の闇が徐々に存在感を増 すとともに「深淵」も、時にヴァリエイションを伴いながら存在感を増して いった可能性もある。そうしながらディキンスンの詩作は円熟期に向かう。 2番目に書かれた“abyss”の詩は、1862年の“Is Bliss then, such Abyss─” （Fr 371）で、「専売特許証」（“Patent”）、「陪審の評決」（“Verdict”）などの 言葉から、裁判での場面を髣髴とさせる詩でもある。誰かに“Bliss”、つま り無上の喜びというものを否定されたと見られる者が「では Bliss というの は、Abyss のようなものなのですか？」と尋ねる詩の始まり方は、まるで口 頭弁論における反論のようである。 22 山 下 あ や Is Bliss then, such Abyss─ I must not put my foot amiss For fear I spoil my shoe? I’d rather suit my foot Than save my Boot─ For yet to buy another Pair Is possible, At any store─ But Bliss, is sold just once. The Patent lost None buy it any more─ Say, Foot, decide the point! The Lady cross, or not? Verdict for Boot! （Fr 371） 「靴」は何処でも購入可能であるため、例え“Bliss”が“Abyss”となるとしても、 「靴」を「駄目にする」ことを恐れて足を自由にさせない（“amiss”）よりは 足の好きに（“suit”）させる方がいいと、この詩の声は語る。“Bliss”と“Abyss” と“amiss”が韻を踏むことで、三語の繋がりが浮かび上がる。第3連目で、 先程までの声と別の声が登場し、“Bliss”が唯一のものであることを告げ、 足に対して「立場を決めよ！」と叫び、反対尋問のように「その女性は渡る のか、渡らないのか」と尋ね、そして詩の最後には、陪審員たちに向かって 「靴」への評決を促す。これら法廷のイメージ内での“Patent”が「専売特許」 と「エナメル靴」（“patent leather”）との掛け言葉であることや、詩を語る 声が複数登場することはディキンスンの“a clever legal pun”（Guthrie 202） である。そのような軽妙かつ巧みな語り口である一方、“Abyss”はこの詩の 中で無言の存在感を持つ。得体の知れない深淵を前に語り手は、それが恐ろ しいものという認識は持ちつつも、その中にあるかもしれない“Bliss”に強 く惹きつけられている。この詩における深淵は死の恐怖や重々しさと捉える Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 23 よりは、生の迷いや苦しみを、身動きが取れないもどかしさで表現している と捉えることが出来る。 3番目に書かれた「深淵」の詩は、1863年に書かれた“To fill a Gap”（Fr 647）から始まる詩で、この詩には“Abyss”の他に“Gap”という「深淵」も 登場する。以下は Emily Dickinson Lexicon における“gap”の項である。 Opening; yawn; fissure; chasm made by something breaking apart; ［fig.］ loss; void; vacancy caused by death; emptiness caused by parting from a loved one. 末尾の“emptiness caused by parting from a loved one”という記載から、“gap” は“abyss”と比べると、「死」や「大切な人との別れ」を経験した後の空虚 という意味を持つ「深淵」であることが理解できる。 To fill a Gap Insert the Thing that caused it— Block it up With Other—and ’twill yawn the more— You cannot solder an Abyss With Air— （Fr 647） “Gap”を埋めるには、その原因となった“Thing”をはめ込むしか方法はない。 “Gap”を、“Thing”ではなく“Other”で塞いでしまうと、“Gap”は余計に大き く口を開けてしまう。“Thing”以外のものは“Air”と同じように、開いてし まった“Gap”を塞ぐには無意味なものである。故に、この“Gap”は、Vendler が“One cannot insert a dead friend back into one’s life （to take one figure for the “Gap”）, nor can one block up the absence of one indispensable person with the presence of a different person.” （278）と述べているように、大切な者を 失った際にできた取り返しのつかない空虚の象徴と考えられる。読者は、こ の詩における“Abyss”のイメージを理解することで、最初は何かが“Abyss” 24 山 下 あ や を埋めていた、あるいは最初は閉じていたというイメージを得る。ここでの 深淵は、はじめから深淵として存在しているわけではない。この詩における “Gap”の意味はやはり、“emptiness caused by parting from a loved one”が該 当する。ここでの“Abyss”は、詩の中で“death”という言葉は出てこないも のの、“irrevocability of Death” （Vendler 279）を表しているものだと言える。 3つ目の詩の「深淵」は、人との別離、おそらく死の別離と深く関係し、決 して再び埋めることのできない空虚を表している。 3．1870年代の「深淵」 第1章と第2章で、1862年と1863年というディキンスンの詩作の円熟期に 書かれた「深淵」の詩を考察した。それは、ディキンスンの抱いた“terror” や心の闇の認識とともに出現し、「深淵」に惹き付けられる語り手や、取り 返しのつかない死の別離の「空虚」を表すものだった。次に「深淵」 （“abyss”）が詩の中で使われたのは、1863年以降、11年の空白を経てからの ことだった。それはより精神的、内面的な深みを伴って、死に密接に関係す る重要なことばとなって出現する。 1874年に“I never hear that one is dead” （Fr 1325）が書かれたことは、こ の年に彼女の父親エドワード・ディキンスンが亡くなったことと関係してい るのかもしれない。1874年と1875年の詩には、父の死、そしてそれによる突 然かつ衝撃的な状況と関連している詩がいくつかあると、Martin も述べる （145）。 I never hear that one is dead Without the chance of Life Afresh annihilating me That mightiest Belief, Too mighty for the Daily mind That tilling it’s abyss, Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 25 Had Madness, had it once or, Twice The yawning Consciousness, Beliefs are Bandaged, like the Tongue When Terror were it told In any Tone commensurate Would strike us instant Dead— I do not know the man so bold He dare in lonely Place That awful stranger—Consciousness Deliberately face— （Fr 1325） まず、人の訃報を耳にした語り手の心では、その悲しみの衝撃から“Belief” が原因で出現した、「日常の心」で受け止めるには大きすぎる「深淵」が存 在する。一般的にはポジティヴな意味合いで考えられる“Belief”は、Vendler が “that ever yone is eventually annihilated, reduced to nothing, utterly dead” （449）と言うように、人は必ず死ぬ存在であるという信念・確信のことであ る。第1連の“chance”も同じく「命の保証ができないこと」「不確かさ」を 表すが、これらはアイロニーと捉えられ、ネガティヴな意味合いで解釈でき る。そして、その深淵は語り手が日々“Belief”について絶え間なく考え続け る、すなわち耕す（“till”）には大き過ぎる問題であるため、一度や二度狂気 になりさえしたことが言及される。また、“The Yawning Consciousness”は、 今まで意識下にあった“Belief”が人の死を契機に強く意識されたために意識 がぽっかりと口を開けてしまった様子を表す。第3連の“Beliefs”は、「私た ちを即死させるくらいのトーン」で恐怖が語られる際に「舌」と同じように、 「包帯で覆われる」と表現されている。「包帯」は Vendler が述べているよう に、“the inexpressible terror of full Consciousness”を覆い隠す（451）。神へ の盲目的信仰と引きかえに、直視し続けなくてもよくなる死への恐怖を表現 していると理解できる。死を意識することは極めて孤独な、自己内の「意 26 山 下 あ や 識」の直視を意味する。それが最終連の“That awful stranger”で表現される。 最終連において語り手が“lonely Place”で敢えて対面を避ける“That awful stranger”とは、その後にダッシュを挟んで“Consciousness”と続くように、 死を強く考える自己の内面の「意識」である。このイメージはまさに、“One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted” （Fr 407）のイメージと相似する。 本来恐ろしい存在であるはずの外側の幽霊（“External Ghost”）に出くわす 方が、人間の内側で出くわす存在（“interior confronting”）よりもずっと安 全だと逆説的に表現し、“oneself behind oneself”、即ち自己の内側に隠され た「意識」の恐ろしさを表現する。この解釈は、“I never hear that one is dead” （Fr 1325）の解釈と一致する。同詩の“Belief”という「意識」が語り 手を殺してしまう（“annihilating”）という表現と、“One need not be a Chamber—to be Haunted” （Fr 407）において「私たちの後ろに隠れている 私たち」（“Ourself, behind ourself”）が一般的に恐怖体験とされる出来事を 差し置いて最も語り手を驚愕させる恐怖の対象として描かれている点でイ メージは同じである。また、前者で“Belief”と“Consciousness”が2回ずつ 登場することは、特にこの語を詩の中で強調する必要があるためと考えられ る。自己の中の逃れられない「意識」が、恐ろしい「信念」によって墓のよ うに口を開けているなら、それは出口のない、自己を滅する程の恐怖を表す。 「深淵」の在り処は自己の中であるとはっきり記したこの詩において、「深 淵」は極めて内的、精神的、意識的、さらにはトラウマ的な恐怖に拘束され るイメージとして描かれている。 「深淵」（“abyss”）を使用した5番目の詩、“Floss wont save you from an Abyss”（Fr 1335）は、1874年の作である。まるで怪しげな商人が、深淵に 落ちてしまった者に向かってセールスをしているかのような、不気味かつ滑 稽さの漂う詩である。 Floss wont save you from an Abyss But a Rope will— Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 27 Notwithstanding a Rope for a Souvenir Is not beautiful— But I tell you ever y step is a Trough— And ever y stop a well— Now will you have the Rope or the Floss? Prices reasonable—（Fr 1335） この詩はまず、「深淵」から“you”を救う救命道具として丈夫なロープとす ぐに切れてしまう真綿の糸とを対比させる。前者は丈夫ではあるが美しくな いため深淵からの土産物には不向きで、後者は土産物に向いてはいるが、す ぐ切れてしまい深淵から語り手を救い出してはくれないので、第一土産にも できないという皮肉な論理で詩は始まる。語り手から、歩いても止まっても 足の底は「谷」（“Trough”）であり「くぼみ」（“well”）であると告げられる “you”は、「ロープか、糸か」と問われる。深淵から這い上がることもでき ないし、深淵の底はただ深淵であるという逃れようのない恐怖が読者にも伝 わる。この不可抗力に拘束され無力にさせられるイメージは、ディキンスン の「深淵」の詩の概観と理解できよう。そしてこの“Floss wont save you from an Abyss” （Fr 1335）において遂に深淵の底へ落ちた自己がどのような 手段を取っても時を巻き戻すことができないことは、深淵の深さと、前述の “irrevocability of Death” （Vendler 279）を示唆する。この詩は“I never hear that one is dead” （Fr 1325）と同年、ディキンスンの父親が亡くなった年に 書かれた。Martin は、その時期の詩は薄暗く憂鬱（“somber”）であるが、 この詩はその中でもひとつの「喜劇的力作」（“comic effort”）だと評する （145）。確かに、怪しげな商人が深淵に落ちている語り手を見下ろしながら 「お安くしておきますよ」（“Prices reasonable—”）と語りかけるその設定は 滑稽ではあるが、答えのない選択を迫られる“you”にとっては、深淵の深み や恐ろしさはかき消されはしない。 28 山 下 あ や 4．最後の「深淵」 “What myster y per vades a well!” （Fr 1433）は、1877年に書かれた詩であり、 最初に考察した詩と同じく自然詩の部類に入る。そしてディキンスンが “abyss”ということばを詩の中で使用した最後の詩でもある。 What myster y per vades a well! The water lives so far— A neighbor from another world Residing in a jar Whose limit none have ever seen, But just his lid of glass— Like looking ever y time you please In an abyss’s face! （第1連、第2連） 井戸の中には大海につながる水が住んでいる（“Residing”）ため、その測り 知れない深みが「深淵」（“abyss”）と表現される。覗き込むたびに「深淵」 の「ガラスの瞼」だけが見える。「深淵」を覗き込むたびに「ガラスの瞼」 がこちらを見つめ返すと換言することもできる。「深淵」を見つめる行為は 水鏡に自分自身が映し出されることを意味し、それは「深淵」を覗いている 行為と捉えられる一方、自己を見つめる行為も暗示している。この詩の井戸 の描写は、思想家エマスン（Ralph Waldo Emerson）のエッセイ Circles にお ける“The eye is the first circle”という書き出しを髣髴とさせる。エマスンは 目を第一の円環とし、視野を二番目の円環とした。その円環は果て無く続き、 「あらゆる深淵の下にはさらなる深淵が広がる」（“under ever y deep a lower deep opens.”）と記す。第二の視野がまた深淵であり、自己そのものである という点でディキンスンはエマソン的「深淵」に二重の深みを持たせている とも考えられる。 The grass does not appear afraid, Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 29 I often wonder he Can stand so close and look so bold At what is awe to me. Related somehow they may be, The sedge stands next the sea Where he is floorless And does no timidity betray— （第3連、第4連） 測り知れない深みを湛えた井戸に語り手は「畏怖」（“awe”）を感じるため、 井戸の傍に生えている草が大胆でいられることを不思議に思う。語り手が “awe”と感じるものに対し自然の反応は異なっている。語り手にとっても草 にとっても「隣人」であったはずの海は、実は草に近かったことが分かる。 草がすでに手の届かない所に平然と存在するという点で、語り手と自然との 距離が暗示される。Tufariello は“Dickinson’s jar, the well, does not tame the water it contains, which remains fathomless and inscrutable, ‘a neighbor from another world.’”と述べて、埋められない距離を提示するディキンスンの自 然観を表す（180）。 語り手は第5連で、自然との距離を改めて認識する。 But nature is a stranger yet; The ones that cite her most Have never passed her haunted house, Nor simplified her ghost. To pity those that know her not Is helped by the regret That those who know her, know her less The nearer her they get. （第5連、第6連） 「彼女を最も頻繁に引用する人々は彼女の幽霊屋敷を通ったことがないし、 30 山 下 あ や その幽霊を単純化したこともない」という表現は、この詩が書かれる前年の 1876年にディキンスンが批評家ヒギンスンに送った書簡の“Nature is a Haunted House—but Art—a House that tries to be Haunted.”（L 459）とい う一節を想起させ、やはり自然と人間との距離を表していると考えられる。 詩において、自然は「引用」するものではないと述べていることから、この 詩は、エッセイ Nature の中で自然について論じ上げ人間は「自然を見るこ とによって自然との一体化が得られる」（尾形 110）と語ったエマスンに対 するディキンスンの反応と読むことも可能である。実際 Tufariello はこの詩 を“a response to Emerson’s Nature”として読む（179）。エマスンもディキン スンも、自然を目には見えるが近づけない対象として捉えているところは同 じであるが、エマスンが「透明な眼球」（“a transparent eye-ball”）になって 無心になると自然との融合が図れる6 としたのに対し、あくまでディキンスン にとっては“Nature is a Haunted House” （L 459）であり、“nature is a stranger” （第5連）であった。ディキンスンのこの詩においては、海という自然を湛 える井戸を見つめる行為がその測り知れない深みや不可知の自己を見つめる ことに繋がるため、エマスンの言う自然との「一体化」に対してディキンス ンは自然との乖離を表していると考えられ、両者の自然観の違いが明らかと なる。 この詩が自然のみならず人間という存在自体との距離をも表している根拠 は、第5連の“nature”が“Susan”となった別ヴァージョンにある。 （C）But Susan is a stranger yet— The ones who cite her most Have never scaled her Haunted House Nor compromised her Ghost— … ディキンスンはこのヴァージョン（C）を義姉スーザンに送っている。 ヴァージョン（C）の中で“Susan”は、誰も彼女を「計った」ことも彼女と Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 31 「歩み寄った」こともなく、「彼女を知っている人々」は彼女に近づけば近づ くほど彼女を知らなくなるという不思議な対象として書かれている。スーザ ンはディキンスンにとって人間としての興味の対象であったと考えられるた め、どちらのヴァージョンも、自然、人間の奥底や、その距離を表す。そこ にある神秘というものは、最終連で示される通り、知ろうとすればするほど 本来は知らないことに気付くものである。この見解は、Leiter の、“the well and its myster y as a metaphor for the bottomless depth and myster y of human nature”（228）というこの詩の解釈と同義である。 エマスンが1866年9月のジャーナルの中で“There may be two or three or four steps, according to the genius of each, but for ever y seeing soul two absorbing facts,—I and Abyss.” （Journals, 171）と書いたように、「深淵」に 対する関心はエマスンもディキンスンも同じであった。実際 Diehl は、“The fact that Dickinson’s abyss lies within, that it resides in her psyche, grows from Emerson’s assertion that the mind contains limitless possibilities.” （150）とし て、ディキンスンの「深淵」は、エマスンの影響があることを明らかにする7。 謎めく計り知れない自己の存在が示唆されているこの“What myster y per vades a well!” （Fr 1433）において、その解釈は理解し得る。Diehl の言う、 自己の中に卓越した力があると信じ我々の下に広がる恐れや空虚という深淵 を取り除いたエマスンとは異なり、死や恐れに遭遇した際のディキンスンは、 数々の恐怖をそのまま受け止め、それを「深淵」として心に持ち続けた （158）。エマスンは「自己と深淵」という対置である一方、ディキンスンは 「自己の中の深淵」というような配置であったとも考えられる。「あらゆる深 淵の下にはさらなる深淵が広がる」（“under ever y deep a lower deep opens.”） と表現し、また一方で最も奥（“the inmost”）が最も外側（“the outmost”） になり得ると説いたエマスンに対し、ディキンスンは最も奥が、たださらに 最も奥になっているのである。その闇は深く、暗く、ディキンスンの抱いて いた恐怖や痛みがどれほど大きかったかを示唆する。それ故にディキンスン の心の中の「深淵」は精神的で内的で計り知れず深い。同時にその「深淵」は、 32 山 下 あ や ディキンスンの詩作の源泉となっていたとも考えられる。Diehl の言葉を借 りれば、ディキンスンは、自ら作り出した想像の内なる深淵に降りていき、 詩を書くことを通してそこから再び現れたと考えられるのだ。 …hers is an abyss that she tells us she can enter, and so it must be an internal, deeper part of the mind to which she descends and from which she emerges through the act of writing poems. （158） 小論冒頭で提示した「深淵から現れ、深淵へと戻っていく」（“Emerging from an abyss, and re-entering it,—that is Life, is it not, Dear?” L 1024）とい う書簡におけるディキンスンの「生」の捉え方は、Diehl の言葉を援用すれば、 「深淵に入り、深淵から現れるのが人生」であると言い替えることができる。 ディキンスンは“terror”という大きな恐怖を経験し、生を脅かすほどの心の 闇を抱える自己を「深淵」の計り知れなさと一致させた。時には「深淵」に 生の迷いや苦しみを見て、また時には誰かの死、または死そのものに対して のトラウマ的、精神的な暗闇を重ねた。エマスンが「人間の心のなかを理解 すれば、すべてが理解できる」としたのは「人間の心の奥には神が宿ると 悟った」（尾形 171）からであり、そのような考えや対処法を用いぬまま逃 れられない恐怖を心の「深淵」にそのまま受け止めてしまうディキンスンの 態度は、普通の精神であれば耐えられずに自己の崩壊を招く結果を想像する。 しかし、それ故に、ディキンスンは「深淵」を心に持ち続けることを可能と する強い精神の持ち主であったと考えられる。ディキンスンは、深い底の下 にまた底が広がる「死」にいたるほどの苦悩を、想像の力で創り出した「深 淵」のイメージと重ねて心に持ち続け、詩を書くという「生」の行為を伴っ て深淵から「再び現れた」と言えるのだ。 Emily Dickinson の詩における「深淵」 33 注 1 以下ディキンスンの書簡集からの引用は、ジョンソン＆ワード版を使用し、括弧内に （L 1024）のようにその番号を示す。 2 聖書からの引用は新共同訳を使用。日本聖書協会、2011年。 3 リーダーズ英和辞典第2版参照。 4 ディキンスン・レキシコンとは、詩集における9725を超えることばとその異形の包括 的な辞書であり、それはウェブスター1844年版の辞書と Oxford English Dictionary など から作成されている。Cf, “Emily Dickinson （1830－1886） wrote approximately 1,789 lyric poems in nineteenth-centur y American English. The Emily Dickinson Lexicon （EDL） is a comprehensive dictionar y of over 9,275 words and variants found in the collected poems. We have used Dickinson’s poems, the Webster 1844 dictionar y, the Oxford English Dictionar y, and other resources to create the EDL entries.” （Emily Dickinson Lexicon Website） 5 本稿でのディキンスンの詩の引用は、全てこのフランクリン版からとし、その番号を （Fr 327）のように括弧内に示す。 6 Standing on the bare ground, … all mean egoism vanished. I become a transparent eye- ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part of God … Nature always wears the colors of the spirit （Nature, 6）. エマスンは、理 性と信仰とを回復する手段としてこの自然との融合を説いており、そのことによって人 は神の一部になる歓喜が得られるとしている（尾形 109）。 7 Self-Reliance においてエマスンは、“Speak your own latent conviction, and it shall be the universal sense; for the inmost in due time becomes the outmost, and our first thought is rendered back to us” （Selected Prose and Poetr y, 72）と述べる。 引用文献 Dickinson, Emily. Ed. Johnson, Thomas H., and Ward, Theodora. The Letters of Emily Dickinson. Cambridge, Mass.: Har vard UP, 1958. Print. ̶. Ed. R.W. Franklin. The Poems of Emily Dickinson 3 Vols. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap P of UP, 1999. Print. Diehl, Joanne Feit. Dickinson and the Romantic Imagination. Princeton, New Jersey: U of Prinston P, 1981. Print. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Ed. Brooks Atkinson. N.Y.: The Modern Librar y, 2000. Print. ̶. Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson: 1864－1876. Cambridge, Mass.: The Riverside Press, ［1909－14］. Print. ̶. Selected Prose and Poetr y Second Edition. Ed. Reginald L. Cook. Middlebur y, Vermont: Middlebur y College, 1950. Print. “Emily Dickinson Lexicon.”〈http://edl.byu.edu/〉（accessed 2015/11/30）. Farr, Judith. “Dickinson and the Visual Ar ts,” Ed. Gudrun Grabher, aroland Jagenbuchle, Cristanne Miller: The Emily Dickinson Handbook. Amherst: The U of Massachusetts P, 34 山 下 あ や 1998. Print. Guthrie, James. “Law and Legal Discourse.” Ed. Eliza Richards. Emily Dickinson in Context. Cambridge, Mass.: Cambridge UP, 2013. Print. Leiter, Sharon. Critical Companion to Emily Dickinson: a literary reference to her life and work. New York: Facts on File, 2007. Print. Mar tin, Linda Wagner. Emily Dickinson: A Literary Life. Kings Cross, London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Print. McIntosh, James. Nimble Believing: Dickinson and the Unknown. Lansing, Michigan: U of Michigan P, 2004. Print. Sewall, Richard B. The L yman Letters: New Light on Emily Dickinson and Her Family. Cambridge, Mass: U of Massachusetts P, 1965. Print. Tufariello, Catherine. “‘The Remembering Wine’: Emerson’s Influence on Whitman and Dickinson,” Ed. Joel Porte, Saundra Morris. The Cambridge Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson. Cambridge Mass.: Cambridge UP, 1999. Print. Vendler, Helen. Dickinson: Selected Poems and Commentaries. Cambridge, Massachusetts: The Belknap P of Har vard UP, 2010. Print. 尾形敏彦『ウォルドー・エマスン』、あぽろん社、1991。 
work_u7t2a7mhkjacpdbkqteipunypu	----	67 ―The mere habit of learning to love is the thing‖: Janeitism and/in Karen Joy Fowler‘s The Jane Austen Book Club Gabriela-Iuliana COLIPCĂ-CIOBANU  Ioana MOHOR-IVAN** Abstract To the present day, Jane Austen has remained a subject of almost religious adoration for her numerous fans, the Janeites, who keep returning to her writings, take interest in the films and the popular works derived from them, and even seek to surround themselves with objects that remind them of their ‗beloved‘. Determined by the desire to engage in social practices that emulate Austenian sociability (O‘Farrell 2009: 478-80), many of Jane Austen‘s ―everyday enthusiasts‖ (Wells 2011: 11) have joined reading groups/ book clubs in order to discuss her fiction and to better understand its meanings. The flourishing of book clubbing and the reflection on the symbolic values attached to Jane Austen as an icon in the contemporary popular culture are foregrounded in Karen Joy Fowler‘s The Jane Austen Book Club (2004), a postmodernist novel which focuses on several issues in today‘s American society such as gender relations, private lives, public social interactions/rituals and cultural practices or rivalry between the arts, yet all seen in relation to the reception of Austen‘s novels by ―everyday‖ American readers. The paper proposes an analysis of this novel, considered illustrative for both postmodernist writing practices and the development of ―Austen cult and cultures‖ (Johnson 1997) at the turn of the new millennium. Key words: Jane Austen, popular culture, postmodernism, intertextuality, reading practices/reader response Introduction Rivalling Shakespeare in terms of popularity with contemporary audiences, Jane Austen ranks among the best known and cherished names in English  Associate professor, PhD., ―Dunărea de Jos‖ University of Galați, gabriela.colipca@ugal.ro ** Professor, PhD., ―Dunărea de Jos‖ University of Galați, ioana.mohor@ugal.ro Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 68 literature. The Shakespeare myth, sustained by myriad forms of interpretation, adaptation and appropriation of the Bard‘s work, seems to be still essentially symbolic of a highbrow tradition of sophistication, prominence in the theatre and academic study requiring specialist expertise, despite the numerous attempts at overcoming the high/low culture divide through its integration in artistic products representative of and/or appealing to popular culture. Austen, though, as a literary and cultural icon emerging from an equally wide range of forms of reshaping her fictional worlds, is much better anchored in contemporary popular culture, being often perceived as ―common cultural property rather than the domain of specialists‖ (Lanier qtd. in Wells 2011: 20). On the one hand ―the favourite author of literary men‖ (unsigned review, 1870 qtd. in Fowler 2005: 263) and of academics – starting with R. W. Chapman (1923) and F. R. Leavis (1948)1 – Jane Austen has, on the other hand, gradually made her way to mass audiences‘ hearts through intense commodification and commercialization to the point of becoming, to use Henry James‘s famous, yet derogatory, phrase, ―dear, our dear, everybody‘s dear, Jane‖ (1905 qtd. in Southam 1987: 230), as both her novels and her persona ―have acquired a cult status‖ (Simons 2009: 471). Considering Austen‘s reception in the late twentieth century and early twenty-first century, Judy Simons remarks that: Never best sellers in their author‘s lifetime, today Austen‘s six novels have consistently high sales and are available across the world in paperback and hard cover editions from dozens of publishing houses. Her books have proved sufficiently elastic to suit the full range of modern media. (Simons 2009: 471) Particularly as a result of the boost given to the Austen cult by the 1995- 1996 film adaptations of Austen‘s most famous novels (Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility, Emma), the popularity of the English novelist‘s literary heritage has increased among ―everyday enthusiasts‖ (Wells 2011: 11), i.e. non-academic readers who devotedly return to her writings and take interest in the films and the popular works derived from them. What some critics label as today‘s ―Austenmania‖ (Pucci and Thompson 2003: 1) is often connected to the ―numerous re-presentations in the forms of novels, movies, television series, and fan fictions that keep flourishing from her fictional worlds and characters‖ (Svensson 2013: 203), recasting and Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 69 reconfiguring Austen in ―multimodal‖ forms of experience (Svensson 2013: 204). As Susanne R. Pucci and James Thompson explain, The Austen phenomenon is located within the interstices of the oral, visual, and spatial delivery systems, systems that reinforce each other and in turn reinforce the interaction among these media. Increasingly, this is the way cultural experiences are disseminated and consumed: see the film, read the book, buy the soundtrack, check out the Web site, visit the ‗actual‘ Austen sites in English country houses and countryside... (2003: 5) Thus, Austen herself, as a cultural icon, has become ―multi-faceted‖, liable to be marketed, in her turn, as ―a commodity, an industry, a corporation, and a celebrity‖ (Dryden 2013: 103). The ever-growing community of Janeites – mostly women nowadays – from all corners of the globe is able to experience Austen through more traditional forms related to the book- printing, film and television industries, but also through the ―new and developing modes of literacy and sociability‖ (Mirmohamadi 2014: 3) provided by the internet, be it in the forms of online platforms for literary and fannish production, blogs and message boards, or the YouTube channel (see also O‘Farrell 2009). Oscillating between ―attraction to social formation and removal from it to private readership‖ (O‘Farrell 2009: 480), the individuals constituting present-day ―Austenian subcultures‖ engage differently, in a more or less participatory manner, with Austen‘s work and biography, as well as with Austen-related cultural products, causing, hence, the ―Austen phenomenon‖ to evolve in multiple directions. Numerous professional writers, themselves Austen lovers, have contributed to and/or reflected on contemporary modes of reinforcing and sustaining the ―Austen brand‖ (Foster 2008). Some have chosen to customize Austen‘s life and work to the expectations of the new generations of Janeites, seeking to make connections and to close their ―gaps‖ in new texts that rely on a wide range of techniques from parody, pastiche, burlesque, shifts in narrative perspective, recontextualization, timeline expansion, to adaptation to popular genres like crime/mystery, fantasy/horror, erotica or Christian romance2. Equally capitalizing on Austen‘s popularity, others have engaged in more complex intertextual games with Austen‘s writings that would simultaneously allow them to pay tribute to ―dear Jane‖ and to explore various aspects of life in the contemporary society, the ―Austen phenomenon‖ included. Next to Helen Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 70 Fielding, the famous English author of Bridget Jones‘s Diary (1996), the American novelist Karen Joy Fowler, with her Jane Austen Book Club (2004), is a relevant example for this latter category. From the very title, Karen Joy Fowler‘s novel The Jane Austen Book Club (2004) announces itself as a symptom of the wide spreading of the ―Jane Austen syndrome‖ (Garber 2003) in the turn-of-the-millennium American society and a representation of patterns of behaviour that characterise at least some of today‘s Janeites – who oscillate between ―the fantasy of authorial possession‖ in the act of reading (O‘Farrell 2009: 478), the desire of ―becom[ing] the secret friend[s]‖ of Jane Austen (Mansfield 1920 qtd. in O‘Farrell 2009: 478), and the urge to seek opportunities to interact with other Austen lovers and, thus, to interiorize and to put into practice the Austenian ‗lesson‘ on ―sociability as an exercise in management of time, life and world‖ (O‘Farrell 2009: 480). This comes as natural from a writer who openly declares her love for Austen (―I‘ve always loved Austen. I read her books over and over again.‖ – Fowler, May 2004) and her adherence (even if temporarily) to the book clubbing ‗subculture‘: What I like about book clubs is how often they demonstrate the incredible controlling power the reader has, in the end, over the reading experience and the text. In the way book clubs usually operate, you‘ve all read the same book and you‘ve come to talk about it, but of course as you talk about it, you‘ve not read the same book at all: you‘ve sometimes read utterly different books. I‘ve been in a club with a fairly steady group for about five years, and I still cannot predict who‘s going to like what, or why. Obviously we bring our life stories to it, but I think we also must bring our last-week histories to it, so you pick up a book in a good mood or a bad mood. It has an enormous impact. (Fowler, December 2004) Such statements actually suggest the need for a more thorough consideration of The Jane Austen Book Club. This paper endeavours to prove that it is not just another Janeite‘s attempt at paying homage to her ‗idol‘ and at producing a text that engages in a more or less sophisticated dialogue with her work. Hidden under the ‗clothes‘ of what, at first sight, appears to be mere chick lit, there is a postmodernist novel that seriously considers current ways of engaging with and responding to literary texts (in this case, Jane Austen‘s) as well as the social practices they engender, Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 71 while also reflecting on issues of concern for the contemporary American society. At the crossroads: between highbrow and lowbrow That Karen Joy Fowler‘s intention is to blur, as expected from a postmodernist novel, ―the boundaries between popular and high art, between mass and elite culture‖ (Hutcheon 2006: 116) is indicated by both elements of the novel and the paratexts that frame it. Set in Sacramento Valley, California, the plot of the novel focuses on a group of six characters, five women (Jocelyn and Sylvia, both in their early fifties; the thirty year old Allegra, Sylvia‘s daughter; the sixty-seven year old Bernadette and the twenty-eight year old Prudie) and a man (Grigg, in his early forties). They have different backgrounds: Jocelyn is a dog breeder; Sylvia works as a librarian; Allegra is glamorous, gay, fond of extreme sports and keeps, for a while, the company of a young would-be writer, Corinne; Bernadette had been trained for a career in the entertainment business but chose that of a wife and married several times; Prudie teaches French at a high school; and Grigg has ―a temp job at the university, part of the secretarial pool‖ and is ―based in the linguistic department‖ (Fowler 2005: 137). For all these characters, the participation in the book club, initially organised by Jocelyn in her attempt to help her life-time friend Sylvia get over the difficult moment of her divorce from Daniel, ―her husband of thirty-two years‖ (2), also becomes an opportunity to bridge or simply ignore the differences between informed (e.g. Grigg‘s) and rather naive (e.g. Jocelyn‘s) ways of understanding literature, in particular Austen‘s novels. Interestingly and somewhat ironically, the paradoxical mixing of highbrow/lowbrow approaches to Jane Austen that pertain to the readers inside and outside the academic circles is most obvious in the construction of Prudie as the ‗true Janeite‘ in Fowler‘s novel. Prudie‘s academic training determines her to peruse the novels she reads and to fill numerous index cards ―in order to remember it all‖ (83), yet she refers to Jane Austen using only her first name, ‗Jane‘, hence in a very unscholarly manner which is rather reminiscent of the popular culture reception of the English writer ―as if she is a friend or even a family member‖ (Wells 2011: 3). Moreover, Prudie proves to lack the detachment required of a literary critic and, like the amateur Austen readers in the book club, embraces the idea that reading Austen‘s novels could function as a ―therapeutic practice‖ (Wells 2011: 22), Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 72 helping her find solutions to her personal problems. Along the same lines, it is worth mentioning that Prudie is explicitly associated with the ―ascribing [of] ‗divinity‘ to ‗Jane‘‖ (Lynch 2005: 113) characteristic of Austen‘s representation in the popular culture3, as it can be seen from the ‗coda‘ to Chapter Three, which focuses on ―read[ing] Mansfield Park with Prudie‖ (Fowler 2005: 81). In Prudie‘s dream, a God-like Jane Austen helps her regain peace of mind and overcome grief at her mother‘s death (which turns out particularly traumatising for Prudie, though she and her mother had had a difficult relationship): Without actually ascending a staircase, Prudie finds herself upstairs, alone, in a hall with many doors. She tries a few, but they‘re all locked. Between the doors are life-sized portraits interspersed with mirrors. The mirrors are arranged so that every portrait is reflected in a mirror across the hall. Prudie can stand in front of these mirrors and position herself so that she appears to be in each portrait along with the original subject. Jane arrives again. She is in a hurry now, hustling Prudie past many doors until they suddenly stop. ―Here‘s where we‘ve put your mother,‖ she says. ―I think you‘ll see we‘ve made some improvements.‖ Prudie hesitates. ―Open the door,‖ Jane tells her, and Prudie does. Instead of a room, there is a beach, a sailboat and an island in the distance, the ocean as far as Prudie can see. (115-116) Also, the exchange of opinions on Jane Austen and her novels (Emma, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice, and Persuasion, in the order in which they are referred to in the six ‗corresponding‘ chapters of Fowler‘s text) among the members of the book club both hints at the ―validation of the amateur reading association‖ as social practice and raises ―critical issues which concern Austen scholars: ownership, status, reception, genre, and the postmodern‖ (Simons 2009: 473). Equally relevant of Fowler‘s endeavour to efface the distinction between high and popular culture, as well as academic and amateur readers of Austen, are some of the paratexts added to her novel. Her so- called ‗Reader‘s Guide‘ is actually a quotation from Martin Amis‘s article ―Jane‘s World‖, published in The New Yorker in January 1996: Jane Austen is weirdly capable of keeping everybody busy. The moralists, the Eros-and-Agape people, the Marxists, the Freudians, the Jungians, the Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 73 semioticians, the deconstructors—all find an adventure playground in six samey novels about middle-class provincials. And for every generation of critics, and readers, her fiction effortlessly renews itself. (Amis qtd. in Fowler 2005: 251) Thus, Fowler uses a voice of authority in the present-day world of highbrow novel and academic studies to reinforce the ultimate message of her novel, namely that Jane Austen is above high art/ popular culture divisions as her novels ‗speak‘ to the readers, irrespective of the age and the (sub)culture they belong to. The following paratexts – ‗The Novels‘ (252-257) and ‗The Response‘ (258-283) – seek to meet the expectations of both uninformed and scholarly readerships. The former provides the ordinary reader with accessible plot synopses of the six novels by Jane Austen with which Fowler‘s own work establishes intricate intertextual relations. The latter addresses the connoisseur in literary criticism and invites her/him to embark on a long, yet fascinating ‗journey‘ along the ‗convoluted paths‘ of Austen‘s reception, recording comments by Austen‘s family members and friends providing her with feedback on her novels (e.g. Mansfield Park and Emma), as well as by ―critics, writers, and literary figures‖ considering ―Austen, her novels, her admirers, and her detractors through two centuries‖ (260) (from 1812 to 2003). Pastiching and departing from Austenian models It is important to notice that the fragmented discourse of Fowler‘s novel, marked by repeated movements back and forth in time, and the breaking up of the text by the use of spaces, titles in different font, small drawings of chairs, the introduction of ‗codas‘ to every chapter, several emails (exchanged between Grigg and his sisters) and even an advertising poster for an invented mystery novel (A Murder of Crows by Mo Bellington) (200), is largely held together by a cleverly-woven web of intertextual connections. Fowler introduces in her novel excerpts of various length from Jane Austen‘s Mansfield Park and Ann Radcliffe‘s Mysteries of Udolpho, from negative comments on Austen‘s novels by the American writers Mark Twain and Ralph Waldo Emerson or from the ‗treatises‘ of an eighteenth- century dancing master, Kellom Tomlison, in order to subtly hint at the deep meanings attached to the experiences that shape her characters‘ identities. More complex, though, are the links that establish between Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 74 Austen‘s and Fowler‘s fiction, beyond mere quotation. Fowler‘s exercise in ―artistic recycling‖ of Austen‘s work (Rabinowitz 1980 qtd. in Hutcheon 1985: 15) may be labelled as pastiche: it ―operates more by similarity and correspondence‖ (Hutcheon 1985: 38) with Austenian plots, characters and even writing style, and ―remains within the same genre as its model[s]‖ (Hutcheon 1985: 38). Fowler – the Janeite entwines in her narrative discourse realism with romance, the keen observation of interactions within both the domestic and the public spaces with the representation of the inner world of the characters. As Judy Simons rightfully remarks, [Fowler‘s novel] reinforces both Austen‘s provincial appeal – the six who form the club are small-town inhabitants, and as two members are a mother and daughter, a replica of Austen‘s ―three or four families in a country village‖ – and her transatlantic portability. The setting, in an American suburb with a distinctively twenty-first century outlook and culturally specific environment, indicates Austen‘s ability to transcend geographical distance and national boundaries. (2009: 473) Even if writing for and about another age and cultural environment, Fowler largely follows the Austenian ‗recipe‘: she constructs her novel around the making, breaking and re-making of couples, ultimately opting for a happy ending as the resolution of all narrative equations (see Tauchert 2005: 15). Nonetheless, she avoids falling into the trap of slavish and unproblematic imitation of her Austenian models. Thus, Jocelyn, who is single at the beginning of the novel, resembles Austen‘s Emma, as she is always in search for the right match for her friends. While they were still in high school, she‘d introduced Sylvia to the boy who would become her husband, and she‘d been maid of honour at the wedding three years after they graduated. This early success had given her a taste for blood; she‘d never recovered. (Fowler 2005: 3) That accounts for her endeavouring to find ―suitable young men‖ for Sylvia‘s daughter Allegra, ―switch[ing] to suitable young women‖ when she found out that Allegra was gay, and, maybe (as Sylvia suspects), even for her inviting Grigg – whom she had accidentally met at a hotel in Stockton where she participated in ―the annual meeting of the Inland Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 75 Empire Hound Club‖ and he attended ―a science fiction convention‖ (126) – to join the book club4. Her very profession, running a kennel and breeding Rhodesian Ridgebacks, allows Jocelyn to give ample time to this ‗hobby‘ of hers, i.e. match-making, and Fowler uses it as a source of metaphoric, somewhat ironic, hints at the profile of the ideal husband as envisaged by women in the postfeminist age, which is not very far from the one drawn in Austen‘s Emma and Pride and Prejudice: ―The dog show emphasizes bloodline, appearance, and comportment, but money and breeding are never far from anyone‘s mind‖ (39). However, Jocelyn‘s interactions with Grigg throughout the six months (from April to August) covered by the novel‘s storyline indicate that she is equally conceived as a contemporary Elizabeth Bennet who must get over deceiving ―first impressions‖, give up her pride and finally accept that the man with ―nice eyelashes and a funny name‖ who, she initially thought, ―didn‘t interest her in the slightest‖ (157), is actually her Mr Darcy. In the aftermath of the crisis that leads to her separation from Daniel, favoured by miscommunication between the spouses and Daniel‘s feeling that, for him at least, marriage has stopped being a source of fulfilment and happiness, Sylvia is revealed as having much in common with Anne Eliot from Austen‘s novel Persuasion. She continues to love her ex-husband, though she is trying to come to terms with his being involved with another woman (Pam), and enjoys the thought that Daniel might believe her attached to another man (when, while at home, preparing a few things to take to the hospital, after Allegra‘s accident, Daniel overhears a message Grigg left Sylvia on the phone, inviting her to have lunch with him). Daniel too slips into the shoes of Captain Wentworth when he chooses, as a means of reconciliation with Sylvia, a letter in which he confesses that he still loves her and asks to be given a second chance. The two are ultimately reunited, so their story ends happily, just like that of their Austenian counterparts. But, as in the case of Jocelyn, there is much more to say about Sylvia‘s Austenian dimensions. Her relationship with Allegra, her daughter, who comes back home to support her after the divorce, discloses her similarity to another Austenian character, Elinor Dashwood. Sylvia is, hence, the embodiment of ―sense‖, showing restraint, when it comes to expressing her feelings for her ex-husband Daniel, and being deeply devoted to Allegra (even more plausibly so, since, with Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 76 Fowler, Sylvia is a mother, not a sister figure) when the latter gets injured at a local climbing gym and is hospitalised. That Allegra stands for ―sensibility‖ among Fowler‘s characters is repeatedly implied in the novel. This gay Marianne Dashwood turns out to be, like her Austenian model, ―everything but prudent‖, ―sensible and clever, but eager in everything; her sorrows, her joys, could have no moderation‖ (Austen 2012: 5). That accounts for Allegra‘s enthusiasm with extreme sports like skydiving and climbing, ignoring the inherent risks, her loss of self-control when betrayed by her lover Corinne, her Willoughby (who takes advantage of Allegra‘s bedtime confessions to make up for lack of inspiration and to make a name as a short-story writer), as well as for her attempt at regaining her equilibrium at home, in Sylvia‘s company, until she can find love and happiness again (with Dr. Yep). Only in the Epilogue does Fowler depart from the Austenian formula and proposes a less ‗happy‘ ending to Allegra‘s quest for the right match: she moves ―back to San Francisco and back with Corinne‖ (Fowler 2005: 249), much to the dissatisfaction of her family and friends who find it ―hard to have a good feeling about the relationship‖ (250). Trapped between an authoritarian mother, who seems, above all, interested in preparing her daughter to become a star in Hollywood, and an indulgent father, a dentist who is ―pushed and prodded and coaxed and sulked‖ by his wife until he gets his daughter ―introduced to someone somewhere in that chain of someones‖ (166), Bernadette unavoidably reminds the reader of one of the Bennet girls in Pride and Prejudice. Her first marriage may strike one as quite similar to the Lydia Bennet – Wickham subplot line in Austen‘s novel5. Bernadette and John, her Wickham, ran off to Vegas to get married, without her parents‘ blessing, but John, a politician who ―made the best first impression‖ (182), proved, in fact, to be a ―climber‖ who cared only about his image in the eyes of the voting public, and lacked integrity and loyalty. The end of Bernadette‘s relationship with John seems to complicate even more the connection between Fowler‘s and Austen‘s characters: John ultimately ran off with Bernadette‘s little sister, without having divorced, and Bernadette‘s father ―had to go looking all over the state for them to bring [her] sister home‖ (191). There may be more than one way of reading this final twist in the story of Fowler‘s characters. On the one hand, it may provide evidence of Fowler‘s intention of ‗playing‘ with details from Pride and Prejudice shuffling them in pastiching Austen: Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 77 Bernadette is temporarily ‗dressed‘ in Elizabeth Bennet‘s ‗clothes‘, betrayed by Wickham, who chose to elope with her younger sister Lydia, while Bernadette‘s father is shown as Mr Bennet-like, desperate to find his silly daughter. On the other hand, though, taking into account a popular practice among Janeites, namely that of turning into writers producing new texts ―to fill in the gaps – in both Austen‘s novels and her biography – according to their own desires‖ (Foster 2008), this may be indicative of Fowler‘s attempt at imagining a possible continuation of Lydia and Wickham‘s story, of course updated and transposed into another cultural frame, which would show the former allegedly learning a lesson and the latter unable to change his despicable character. The important thing is that Bernadette, this modern American Lydia, never loses faith in the power of love and, despite failures in her subsequent marriages, she still believes in happy endings (Fowler 2005: 243). She finds the inner resources necessary to start all over again with a new husband, Señor Obando, who finally seems to be closer to the Mr Darcy ideal (as mentioned in the Epilogue). Edward Neill interprets Bernadette‘s marriage with Señor Obando as ―a kind of parody of Austen‘s repeated, yet differenced, marriage-plot outcomes in her six completed novels‖, but he seems to draw a somewhat similar conclusion in relation to Bernadette‘s choice of marrying again as ―entailing a ‗triumph of hope over experience‘‖ (2004: 252). As for Prudie, the youngest member of the Jane Austen book club, her image connects back to that of Fanny Price in Mansfield Park. Her personality is, like Fanny‘s, profoundly influenced by the difficult relationship with her mother and by social marginalization, here rendered in the form of high school experiences that Prudie did not ―remember with satisfaction‖ (Fowler 2005: 87). Moreover, this Fanny Price ‗reloaded‘ is equally caught in a love triangle: she goes through the ‗test‘ of resisting the ‗charms‘ of the dangerously flirtatious and amoral Trey Norton, one of her students, whom she observes in ‗action‘ first with Sallie Wong (another student of hers) and then at the rehearsal of a school production of Brigadoon, where he dares approach her, before accepting that, after all, the steady, ―dependable‖ Dean, her husband, is her Edmund and the best companion for her6. Last but not least, Grigg, the only male member of the book club, is not deprived of certain intertextual complexity. His past, especially a ―poignant episode‖ (Simons 2009: 473) of his youth, when a camping trip Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 78 with his father ends up as ―a 1970s Gothic nightmare set in a mansion, which has been taken over by drug-taking hippies‖ (Simons 2009: 473), points to his being partly envisaged as a male version of Catherine Morland. Nonetheless, his present, which reveals him eager to get Jocelyn‘s attention, after their first meeting in the elevator of a Stockton hotel, and to integrate into the Jane Austen book club, brings about his metamorphosis into a Mr Darcy in pursuit of the woman he loves. Even Grigg‘s profile seems broadly reminiscent of that of Austen‘s ‗most wanted‘ bachelor: he is portrayed as attractive, physically and, though not financially, definitely intellectually7. He is not just a ―science-fiction addict‖ (Simons 2009: 473), but an avid and open-minded reader whose list of readings includes a wide range of texts from the early gothic to postmodernism, and, after his joining the book club, Jane Austen. That is an opportunity for Fowler to further expand the dialogue with other texts in her novel by means of references to Ann Radcliffe and Ursula Le Guin, in particular, but also to Arthur C. Clarke, Theodore Sturgeon, Philip K. Dick, Andre Norton (aka Andrew North), Connie Willis, Nancy Kress or Patrick O‘Brian. All these characters that Fowler creates drawing on Austenian hypotexts have their share of troubles but also of happiness and the end of Fowler‘s novel is unmistakably tributary, like that of Austen‘s novels, to ―the magical framework of romance‖ (Tauchert 2005: 7): Sylvia and Daniel get back together, Grigg and Jocelyn become a couple, Bernadette gets married again, Allegra is temporarily involved with Dr. Yep8 but then returns to Corinne, and Prudie and Dean‘s relationship is probably improved. Nevertheless, as already mentioned, in Fowler‘s novel, pastiche does not work simply by imitation of Austenian plot patterns but also by the more or less extended imitation of Austen‘s writing style. As with Austen, important building blocks for character construction at the discursive level are what Mieke Bal calls the ―piling up of data‖ regarding the ‘reality‘ that makes up the so-called ―frame of reference‖, as well as the relations to other characters and to itself (2002: 119, 125). Thus, The Jane Austen Book Club ‗piles up‘ details which prove the American writer‘s interest (akin to Austen‘s) in the recording of various aspects of life in the contemporary society. That gender differences, gender relations and the renegotiation of the individual‘s identity at the intersection of multiple perspectives on femininity and masculinity are very much of the heart of Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 79 the novel is demonstrated by the life stories of the six protagonists. Jocelyn must work through the trauma of being raped when she was still a teenager. After having been married for thirty-two years, Sylvia must cope with the painful experience of the divorce, which is all the more traumatizing for her as she was born in a Catholic family. The gay Allegra openly expresses her sexual orientation and is constantly in search for someone to love and be loved by. Bernadette likes ―the getting married‖ but not ―being married‖ and is still looking for the man who would make her feel she could ―fit [her] whole self into a marriage‖ (Fowler 2005: 193). Concerned about gender stereotypes and how they influence the expectations of partners in a relationship, Prudie must discover what would make her content: sexual gratification in a potential affair with an available student or marriage with a responsible and loyal man like Dean. Largely influenced by his very close relationship with his three sisters (Amelia, Bianca and Cat), Grigg comes to be perceived even by his own parents as effeminate (―more of a girl than any of the girls‖ – 143), so his father has to ―teach him to be a man‖ (143) and lamentably fails to do so. The picture of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century American society, as painted in Fowler‘s novel, is then completed by further details. Some regard parent – child relationships, seen as close (in Sylvia and Allegra‘s case), difficult (in Bernadette‘s and Grigg‘s cases) or conflict- ridden (in Prudie‘s case). Religious differences are focused on in the references to Sylvia‘s Catholic family and the detailed representation of sect life as witnessed by Bernadette while living in Colorado in Reverend Watson‘s commune. Politics and the race for power are alluded to in the story of John, Bernadette‘s first husband. Multiculturalism is hinted at in the presentation of Sylvia Sanchez‘s family and childhood amidst a Spanish-speaking community in Chicago (most likely, a Mexican-American one, as suggested by the reference to Sylvia‘s father writing for the newspaper La Raza – 209). Many ‗bits‘ of these ‗slices of life‘ in the contemporary American society are, though, incorporated in the large flashback sections of the novel that look almost like six ―dramatic monologues‖ (Hinnant 2004: 20), which disorder the coherence of the main narrative. It is true that there are plenty of instances in Jane Austen‘s novels which confirm the appeal of introspection to the English writer (that finds its best expression at the discursive level in the use of free indirect discourse) and that there is a Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 80 sense of nostalgia in Austenian narratives. But, for Austen‘s characters, the past should be thought of as long as ―its remembrance gives [one] pleasure‖, as Elizabeth Bennet puts it in Pride and Prejudice (2012: 389), so their nostalgia is ―a form of forgetting – a winnowing of the specific, emotional disturbance, and unpredictability of reminiscence into a diluted, vague, comfortable retrospect‖ (Dames qtd. in Hinnant 2004: 20). At this point, Fowler departs from the Austenian model and, as if trying to provide new evidence of the fact that there are continuities with modernism in postmodernist writing (Hutcheon 2006: 118), her characters are haunted by their past. Hence, past events, as narrated through Fowler‘s six ―centres of consciousness‖ (to use Henry James‘s terms), steal the attention of the reader and even tend to dominate the narrative discourse to the detriment of the storyline set in the present. That explains why some of the reviewers of The Jane Austen Book Club (e.g. Mullan 2004; Hinnant 2004) tend to downgrade the merits of Fowler‘s novel and reproach to it the fact that the book club, which is supposed to provide the main narrative thread of the novel, ―remains a convenience for gathering the novel‘s capsule stories‖ (Mullan 2004). Yet, such criticism seems utterly unfair and ignorant of the main function(s) of the series of discussions occasioned by the Jane Austen book club meetings in Fowler‘s novel: they show her interest in manifestations of the ―Austen phenomenon‖ in contemporary America and give substance to the metafictional dimension of the novel. Metafiction in practice Fiction writing and the relationship between ‗reality‘ and the literary text that is supposed to represent it entwine with gender issues and are in focus not only in the account of Allegra‘s bitter experience with Corinne, who ‗copies‘ her partner‘s life stories in short stories that she sends for publication in hopes of gaining visibility as a writer, but also in the ‗coda‘ to Chapter Five which encloses ―promotional materials for a new Terrence Hopkins Mystery by Mo Bellington‖, A Murder of Crows (Fowler 2005: 200). Ironically, this mystery novel, which is advertised as maybe ―Bellington‘s best ever‖ (200) draws, judging by its brief description, precisely on Bernadette‘s ‗adventures‘ in Reverend Watson‘s commune, as recounted by Bernadette, at a gathering of the club members at ―the annual fund-raiser Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 81 for the Sacramento Public Library‖ (158), in an attempt to counter the male writer‘s prejudiced opinion of ―women‘s stuff‖ (182) (Jane Austen‘s novels included) as lacking ―good plot‖ (182). The debate on the ‗ingredients‘ of good fiction that involves Mo Bellington and Bernadette raises ontological questions ―about what sort of world is being created at each moment in the text, and who or what in a text [the reader] can believe or rely on‖ (Malpas 2005: 24). If Bellington proclaims himself ―kind of a stickler for accuracy‖ (Fowler 2005: 193) who values the ―discovery phase‖ (193) as it gives him access to stories he might recycle in his own fiction, Bernadette ―shade[s] a few things‖ in the construction of her plot, ―add[ing] some bits. Sports. Lingerie. Sexy little sisters. Guy stuff.‖(193), to the point that it is difficult to tell (as Prudie realizes) ―which parts were true and which weren‘t‖ (193). Reminiscent of the postmodernist mindset is also the idea, expressed in the same chapter, this time in a discussion between Sylvia and Allegra, that fictional characters could escape authorial control and have a ―secret life‖ of their own: ―Are you saying Austen meant [Charlotte Lucas] to be gay?‖ Sylvia asked. ―Or that she‘s gay and Austen doesn‘t know it?‖ Sylvia preferred the latter. There was something appealing in thinking of a character with a secret life that her author knew nothing about. Slipping off while the author‘s back was turned, to find love in her own way. Showing up just in time to deliver the next bit of dialogue with an innocent face. If Sylvia were a character in a book, that‘s the kind of character she‘d want to be. (171) More often than not, though, the reflections on the text production – text reception continuum tend to veer onto the subject of Austen‘s readings and re-presentations in the postmodern American culture. As Mary Ann O‘Farrell points out, Exploring their discreet Austens together, the participants in her Jane Austen book club, Fowler seems to suggest, make a society out of personal and private obsessions and demonstrate that society itself is so constituted. And thinking about the function of author-based communities for an Austenian readership that is attached to a sense of victorious and possessive oneness with Austen means recognizing a readership that, in the course of developing subcultures, embodies the tension and enacts the play between private obsession and public relations. (2009: 478-479) Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 82 The very structuring of the group of book club participants is meant to draw attention to and simultaneously undermine stereotypical perceptions of the contemporary Janeite. The predominance of women among the members of the book club in Fowler‘s novel signals her acknowledging the gender-marked profile of the target audience for Austen‘s novels and for the various forms (which include film adaptation) of expanding her universe as part of the ―huge phenomenon‖ referred to as ―Austenmania‖. Most present-day Austen fans are women whose ―appreciation of [Austen‘s] novels stems in part from her depiction of women‘s life‖ (Wells 2011: 16), and more specifically from her representation of love relationships from the perspective of a feminine consciousness as always (though sometimes rather implausibly) ending happily with ―ideal marriages that somehow resolve all real (social) contradictions for her heroines and their communities‖ (Tauchert 2005: 19). And when they seek to ―explore, dissect, and reconfigure her life and fiction‖ in their own writings, women writers inspired by Austen (Fowler included) ―do not ‗talk back‘ to her so much as converse with her‖ (Wells 2011: 16); hence Fowler‘s use of pastiche rather than parody in her novel. That may also account, as some reviewers of the novel suggest, for Fowler‘s choice of a rather uncanny narrating voice that tells the story of the book club meetings. Dismissed by some as ―bizarre‖ (Mullan 2004), Fowler‘s narratorial ‗we‘ might help convey a certain sense of solidarity and sociability by metaleptically connecting the female writer (Fowler) and the female readers, the real-life Janeites, to the female characters of the novel, the fictional ones. Patricia O‘Conner comments on this peculiarity of Fowler‘s style in the following terms: Most intriguing of all is the occasional narrator who steps in to describe the group‘s meetings in an unexpectedly cozy first-person plural: ―We were quiet for a minute, listening to the fly buzz, thinking our private thoughts.‖ But the speaker isn‘t any one of the six book club members. Then who is it? Some ghostly collective presence? Jane herself? Reader, is it ... us? (2004) Interestingly, though, Fowler‘s book club also includes a man, Grigg, who has never read Austen‘s novels but is willing to do so in order to integrate in the group. It is not clear whether Grigg evolves into an ‗Austen devotee‘, but he definitely has the profile of what the early twentieth-century society Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 83 would have called a Janeite: a ―cultured‖ and ―sensitive‖ man (Johnson 1997: 213), with certain knowledge of literary criticism, whose admiration for Austen‘s novels is motivated by the questions they raise and her writing style rather than by romance. It is equally true that Grigg is conceived as a male character that escapes the patriarchal stereotypes of masculinity and remains more ‗in touch‘ with his feminine side. Even so, by creating this character, Fowler appears to have made a step forward towards reminding her readers that Jane Austen is ―everybody‘s dear‖ (no irony or pejorative meaning intended)9, irrespective of gender, age or education differences. Furthermore, for all Fowler‘s characters, as for all Austen‘s ‗lovers‘ – ―especially, but not exclusively, women‖ – reading Austen ―[has] to do with growing up‖, finding answers not only to academic questions (like Grigg‘s or, sometimes, Prudie‘s) but mostly to personal ones; hence, it becomes a means ―to find meaning and to understand themselves‖ (Wells 2011: 21). But, as a novel about how Austen‘s novels are read nowadays, Fowler‘s The Jane Austen Book Club is, above all, meant to investigate reading practices in their multiplicity. In line with Barthes‘s theory according to which the ―birth of the reader must be at the cost of the death of the author‖, since ―the reader is the space on which all the quotations that make up a writing are inscribed without any of them being lost‖ (2001: 1469-1470), Fowler believes that ―[e]ach of us has a private Austen‖ (2005: 1)/―[e]veryone has a private Austen‖ (288). So she sets out to illustrate in her novel various perceptions of Jane Austen, as the members of her fictional book club ―view Austen through the lenses of their own experiences, creating a kaleidoscope through the sum of their little bits of Austen‖ (Foster 2008). Having chosen as a motto a quotation from Jane Austen‘s Emma that, avant postmodernism, implies that there is no single, absolute truth (―Seldom, very seldom does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised, or a little mistaken.‖ – 2012: 874), Fowler lays out, from the very Prologue, different images of a commodified Austen in the contemporary popular culture. Jocelyn‘s Austen wrote wonderful novels about love and courtship, but never married. (Fowler 2005: 1) Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 84 Bernadette‘s Austen was a comic genius. Her characters, her dialogue remained genuinely funny, not like Shakespeare‘s jokes, which amused you only because they were Shakespeare‘s and you owed him that. (1-2) Sylvia‘s Austen was a daughter, a sister, an aunt. Sylvia‘s Austen wrote her books in a busy sitting room, read them aloud to her family, yet remained an acute and non-partisan observer of people. Sylvia‘s Austen could love and be loved, but it didn‘t cloud her vision, blunt her judgment. (2) Allegra‘s Austen wrote about the impact of financial need on the intimate lives of women. If she‘d worked in a bookstore, Allegra would have shelved Austen in the horror section. (4) Prudie‘s was the Austen whose books changed every time you read them, so that one year they were all romances and the next you suddenly noticed Austen‘s cool, ironic prose. Prudie‘s was the Austen who died, possibly of Hodgkin‘s disease, when she was only forty-one years old. (4) Only Grigg‘s image of Austen remains initially unknown (―None of us knew who Grigg‘s Austen was.‖ – 5), a welcome instance of mystery to arouse the reader‘s curiosity and an open door to the integration of a different approach to Austen, more akin to the academic‘s/literary critic‘s, in the broader ‗picture‘ of Austen‘s reception at the turn of the millennium. For Grigg, at least, Austen‘s Northanger Abbey is particularly appealing because ―it‘s all about reading novels. Who‘s the heroine, what‘s an adventure? Austen poses these questions very directly‖; that is why, in Grigg‘s opinion, ―there‘s something very pomo going on there‖ (138). Moreover, Grigg takes interest in the intertextual links that connect Austen‘s novel to Radcliffe‘s Mysteries of Udolpho and their impact on the very construction of Austen‘s narrative discourse: ―Austen‘s imitated the structure, made all her choices in opposition to that original text. Assumes everyone has read it‖ (139). That definitely distinguishes Grigg from his interlocutors and fellow readers in the book club to whom ―it hadn‘t occurred (…) to read [Udolpho]‖ (―Some of us hadn‘t even realized it was a real book.‖) (139). Fowler further lays stress on the tension in reading practices between the cultivated (open-minded) and the naïve (yet prejudiced) reader in Grigg‘s dialogue with Jocelyn about characters in fiction: Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 85 ―I like books about real people,‖ Jocelyn said. ―I don‘t understand the distinction.‖ Grigg‘s eyes had returned to the road. ―Elizabeth Bennet is a real person, but the people in science fiction books aren‘t?‖ ―Science fiction books have people in them, but they‘re not about the people. Real people are really complicated.‖ (173) The relativity of interpretation in the process of reading, another issue of interest for the academy, is pondered over by Prudie (whose paradoxical espousing of academic reading habits and popular reader enthusiasm has been previously discussed). Interestingly, in her reflections on Austen‘s reception in the contemporary society, Prudie also brings forth the academic concern about fidelity in film adaptation10 and her parti pris definitely reminds one of the old-fashioned, yet still enduring, belief in the superiority of literature to film: The great thing about books was the solidity of the written word. You might change and your reading might change as a result, but the book remained whatever it had always been. A good book was surprising the first time through, less so the second. The movies, as everyone knew, had no respect for this. (82) The multiplicity, yet arbitrariness, of reader responses is intertextually sustained in the ‗coda‘ to Chapter Two by quotations from letters of publishers who rejected the now highly appreciated Pride and Prejudice and Northanger Abbey when first submitted for publication, as well as from American writers (Mark Twain and Ralph Waldo Emerson) who dismissed Austen‘s novels as second-rate literature, in utter contrast to subsequent generations of writers and critics who have looked up to them as literary models. Equally noteworthy is the fact that, in this novel which carries on, in its own terms, the already ‗old‘ tradition of actively and creatively interacting with the Austenian text, the metafictional dimension naturally incorporates illustrative examples in this respect. Bernadette, who ―always like[s] to know how a story ends‖ (199), seems to be satisfied with the details provided by J. E. Austen-Leigh in his Memoir of Jane Austen (1869) regarding the way in which Austen herself chose to round off, to the amusement of her family members, the ―career of some of her people‖ Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 86 (2002: 119), like Mary and Kitty Bennet. But Allegra proves to be the most ingenious and creates, using famous quotations from Austen‘s novels, a modified version of the ―black Magic 8-Balls‖ (Fowler 2005: 233), which she names Ask Austen, that could give each of the club members the possibility of receiving ‗advice‘ from their ―dear‖, ―divine‖, ―matchless‖ Jane (Johnson 1997: 214). Allegra‘s initiative is, in fact, the crowning expression of the present-day Janeite‘s tendency to use Austen ―for a goal of self- improvement‖ (Wells 2011: 22), being thus somewhat akin to those special forms of interactive engagement with Austen‘s world(s) that are the Austen-inspired advice books (e.g. Lauren Henderson‘s 2005 Jane Austen Guide to Dating and Jane Austen‘s Guide to Romance: the Regency Rules, etc. – see Wells 2011). Finally, with ‗Questions for Discussion‘ (Fowler 2005: 284-286) (which is one of the paratexts), Fowler takes further her postmodern melange of realism, romance, intertextuality and metafiction, setting the basis for a potential metaleptic dialogue between her characters and her readers on: the themes, characters and style of Austen‘s novels; Austen‘s biography; the relationship between reality and fiction; the relationship between the literary text and its film adaptation(s), as well as their impact on the readership/audience; cultural hierarchies; gender relationships; private lives and public interactions; rituals and cultural practices in the contemporary society. Concluding remarks An international bestseller at the time of its publication, featuring in ―the New York Times 100 Notable Books of the Year and The Australian‘s Book of the Year list‖ (Simons 2009: 473), available to the readers in printed and audio book form, Karen Joy Fowler‘s The Jane Austen Book Club soon followed what has already become a trend in the ―Austen phenomenon‖, being adapted for the screen in 2007 by Robin Swicord. Unavoidably, the filmic hypertext departed, in many ways, from Fowler‘s novel. That is not actually something to deplore, as, after all, fidelity in adaptation is unlikely, even undesirable. Most importantly, though, apart from the semiotic differences between novel and film, it was Swicord‘s reading of The Jane Austen Book Club that caused many of the deep meanings of Fowler‘s postmodernist novel to get ‗lost‘ in adaptation. In Swicord‘s film, there is little concern about ―making distinctions but not making choices (...) between Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 87 the popular and the elite‖ (Hutcheon 2006: 116). The pastiching of Austenian models, so prominent, yet not slavish, with Fowler is significantly altered and, in some cases, somewhat simplified in the film, which, while still drawing on Mansfield Park, Emma and Persuasion, definitely privileges Pride and Prejudice as ‗everybody‘s favourite‘. The constant movement back and forth in time that was largely responsible for the fragmentation of the novelistic discourse and the introspective plunging into the characters‘ past are done away with, the film filling occasionally the ‗gaps‘ related to the nature and the past of the characters by mere hints in the protagonists‘ dialogues. Only the metafictional dimension, strongly anchored in the present of Fowler‘s participants in the Jane Austen book club, makes it more explicitly to the screen and, even so, is altered, the filmic metatext being clearly focused on the exploration of American amateur readers‘ response to Austen‘s novels and the proliferation of the ‗cult of Austen‘ in the contemporary American society. Altogether, with its interest in romance and its emphasis on Austen as ―an antidote to our fractured, busy lives‖ (Swicord qtd. in Fowler 2007: 171), Swicord‘s film (which unmistakably fits into the category of romantic comedies) provides a better picture of today‘s Janeitism in the American society than Fowler‘s novel does. With Fowler, Austen‘s reception in the contemporary American culture is but one of the many aspects explored with the ‗tools‘ of postmodernism. Fowler‘s ‗lessons‘ about text production and, especially, text reception, about cultural dynamics and the role of Austen as a catalyst for private emotions and public interactions, are integrated in a cleverly crafted novel that, from behind the ‗mask‘ of chick lit, raises questions about ‗reality‘ and its literary representations, social practices, cultural phenomena and literary hierarchies. Acknowledgement A less extensive analysis of Karen Joy Fowler‘s novel The Jane Austen Book Club was included in a forthcoming article ‗Jane Austen între canonic și popular‘ included in the volume Jane Austen: glose, înțelesuri, interpretări, edited by Michaela Mudure (Cluj Napoca: Casa Cărții de Știință). Notes 1 In 1923, R. W. Chapman published at Clarendon Press, in five volumes, The Novels of Jane Austen, ―the first scholarly edition of any English novelist – male or female – to appear‖, ―ever since acknowledged to be the authoritative edition of Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 88 [Austen‘s] works‖ (Johnson 1997: 218). A few decades later, Professor F. R. Leavis, in his study The Great Tradition (1948), ―dignifies Austen as well as the great tradition of English fiction she originated by insisting on her moral seriousness‖ (Johnson 1997: 219). Thus, they have paved the way for ―the rise of Austen as an academic field‖ (Johnson 1997: 221) in development since mid-twentieth century. 2 Among the numerous texts that have appropriated Austen‘s work and biography ―to accommodate niche markets‖ (Foster 2008), the following could be mentioned: Arielle Eckstut, Pride and Promiscuity: The Lost Sex Scenes of Jane Austen, 2001; Debra White Smith, Austen Series, 2004-2006; Linda Berdoll, Mr Darcy Takes a Wife: Pride and Prejudice Continues, 2004; Sarah Arthur, Dating Mr. Darcy: A Smart Girl‘s Guide to Sensible Romance, 2005; Seth Graham-Smith, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, 2009; P. D. James, Death Comes to Pemberley, 2011, etc. For a detailed analysis of ‗hybrid‘ writings produced in the American cultural space, which mingle Austenian patterns with elements of erotica, horror and Christian romance, see Wells 2011: 177-205. 3 In the filmic adaptation of Fowler‘s novel (2007, dir. Robin Swicord), Prudie remains an embodiment of the Janeite as ―special‖, ―set (...) apart from the contemporary world‖ (Cobb 2012: 209) because of the ―mystical nature‖ of her relationship with her ‗idol‘, Jane Austen. However, Prudie‘s Austen-dominated dream vision in the novel is replaced by a ―surreal moment‖ in the film that switches the stress from uneasy mother – daughter relationships, as represented in Mansfield Park, to difficult love relationships, as portrayed in Mansfield Park and Persuasion. In Swicord‘s film, as Prudie is about to cross the street to meet one of her students, Trey Norton, for a sexual tryst, the signal flashing the words WHAT – WOULD – JANE – DO, and then repeatedly, in red, the words DON‘T WALK, determines her to give up the idea of having an affair and to return to her husband Dean, with whom she is reconciled after they read together Persuasion. The scene, Shelley Cobb remarks, signifies ―otherworldliness about being a reader of Austen‖, ―a distinction reinforced by the postmodern, ironic play on the once ubiquitous Christian bracelet imprinted with the letters WWJD (What Would Jesus Do)‖ (2012: 208-209). 4 Fowler chooses to keep her readers in the dark about the reason why Jocelyn invites Grigg to join the book club and merely has Sylvia speculate about it: ―Sylvia had always suspected Grigg was intended for her. Of course, she didn‘t want him, but when had that ever stopped Jocelyn?‖ (Fowler 2005: 225). The 2007 filmic adaptation of Fowler‘s novel explicitly points to Grigg‘s being intended as potential replacement for Sylvia‘s husband Daniel, thus emphasising the similarity between Jocelyn and Austen‘s Emma as match-maker figures. 5 In the 2007 filmic version, Bernadette‘s role in the plot and her representation as a modern counterpart of one of Austen‘s characters in Pride and Prejudice are significantly reconsidered. As Fowler admits herself, Bernadette is given ―a larger Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 89 role‖ in the film, ―put[ting] the book club together‖ and ―serv[ing] as a universal confidante and a somewhat bawdy reader of Austen‖, unlike her ―dishevelled, repetitive Bernadette‖ (Fowler 2007: 170). In addition, Swicord‘s Bernadette places herself differently in relation to the Austenian world of characters and, in a conversation at the annual fund-raiser for the Sacramento Public Library, claims that she had experienced all the types of marriages presented in Pride and Prejudice and identifies herself as the Charlotte Lucas type, as she married at 17 with the first man who proposed to her. 6 On screen, the love triangle that includes Prudie, her husband Dean and Trey Norton, the student, is amply developed and Prudie is more explicitly shown as thinking herself in love with Trey, indulging in clandestine meetings with the boy she is sexually attracted to, going along with his flirtatious ‗games‘ when she accepts to help him rehearse for the Brigadoon performance and almost ready to make the ‗final step‘ of consummating their relationship, from which she is prevented by the ‗divine Jane‘, as shown in Note 1. As far as the evolution of Prudie and Dean‘s marriage is concerned, it is given new intertextual connotations as it becomes another story about ‗second chances‘ like Austen‘s Persuasion, which the two characters read together and which helps them overcome misunderstandings so that they could be reunited as a couple. 7 Though she generally praises Swicord‘s adaptation of her novel for the screen, Fowler feels, nonetheless, sorry to find that, in the film, ―Grigg had become a wealthy man‖. She explains: ―Readers still insist on seeing him as an Austen hero when I meant him to be an Austen heroine. I still like him best when he has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt someone to marry him, beyond his own good heart and impeccable taste in books‖ (2007: 171). 8 Commenting on the end of the film adaptation of Fowler‘s novel, Shelley Cobb remarks that, even though Allegra is shown, at a certain point, enjoying the company of Dr. Yep, the final sequence of the reunion of the Jane Austen book club members at a charity event reveals Allegra without a partner. It is true that ―[t]he film does not self-consciously highlight her status. However, as the camera pulls away from the table, it is impossible not to notice all the couples next to each other and Allegra on her own. (…) The specialness of being an Austen reader-fan and the happy endings it offers to the heterosexual white women (…) is not available to (…) the lesbian woman‖ (2012: 223-224). 9 Henry James‘s now famous phrase was originally integrated in a sarcastic comment on the emergence and rapid proliferation of the ―cult of Jane Austen‖ (Lynch 2005: 111) among mass readerships, owing to ―the body of publishers, editors, illustrators, producers of the pleasant twaddle of magazines; who have found their ‗dear‘, our dear, everybody‘s dear, Jane so infinitely to their material purpose, so amenable to pretty reproduction in every variety of what is called tasteful, and in what seemingly proves to be saleable, form‖ (in Southam 1987: Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 90 230). Here, the statement in which James‘s phrase is enclosed carries no ironic undertones, but literally refers to Fowler‘s belief that Jane Austen as a literary and cultural icon may transcend highbrow/lowbrow boundaries, as well as challenge and appeal to academic and non-academic readers, women and men, alike. 10 Surprisingly for a representative of the popular culture, Jocelyn – whom Prudie met ―at a Sunday matinee of Mansfield Park‖ (Fowler 2005: 81) – seems to share Prudie‘s opinions about film adaptations as disappointingly distorting Austen‘s fictional worlds. As a matter of fact, both Prudie and Jocelyn seem to voice Fowler‘s own expectations regarding film adaptations of Austen‘s work, as expressed by the American writer in the article ‗What Would Jane Cut?‘: ―All I want in an Austen movie is perfect fidelity. Jane Bennet is supposed to be prettier than Elizabeth. Is she? Is Mr. Knightley much, much older than Emma, as written? Has Edward Ferrars been made sexier and more charming than he should be? I don‘t want a more romantic version. I don‘t want a happier ending. What I want is no monkeying about.‖ (Fowler 2007: 169) References Austen, J. (2012) The Complete Novels of Jane Austen. New York: Race Point Publishing Austen-Leigh, J. E. (2002) A Memoir of Jane Austen and Other Family Recollections. Ed. by Sutherland, K. Oxford: Oxford University Press Bal, M. (1997) Narratology. Introduction to the Theory of Narrative. Second edition. Toronto, Buffalo, London: University of Toronto Press Barthes, R. (2001) ‗The Death of the Author‘. In The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism. Ed. by Leitch, V. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton & Company, 1466-1470 Cobb, S. (2012) ‗What Would Jane Do? Postfeminist Media Uses of Austen and the Austen Reader‘. In Uses of Austen: Jane‘s Afterlives. Ed. by Dow, G. and Hanson, C. Houndmills & New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 208-227 Dryden, R. G. (2013) ‗Inventing Jane. Pleasure, Passion and Possessiveness in the Jane Austen Community‖. In Global Jane Austen. Pleasure, Passion, and Possessiveness in the Jane Austen Community. Ed. by Raw, L. and Dryden, R. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 103-118 Foster, B. (2008) ‗Pimp My Austen: The Commodification and Customization of Jane Austen. Persuasions On-Line, vol. 29, no. 1. Available from http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol29no1/foster.html [12.02.2017] Fowler, K. J. (2004) ‗Karen Joy Fowler. A California comedy of manners. Interview by Katherine Wyrick‘. BookPage [online], May 2004. Available from Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 91 http://bookpage.com/interviews/8251-karen-joy-fowler#.WeXJjFSCxdg [24.10.2016] Fowler, K. J. (2004) ‗The Karen Joy Fowler Book Club‘. LOCUS online. The Magazine of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Field [online], December 2004. Available from http://www.locusmag.com/2004/Issues/12Fowler.html [24.10.2016] Fowler, K. J. (2005) The Jane Austen Book Club. London: Penguin Books Fowler, K. J. (2007) ‗What Would Jane Cut?‘ Persuasions, No. 29, 169-73. Available from http://www.jasna.org/assets/Persuasions/No.-29/fowler.pdf [12.02.2017] Garber, M. (2003) Quotation Marks. New York: Routledge Hinnant, C. H. (2004) ‗Austen the Facilitator. Book Review – The Jane Austen Book Club by Karen Joy Fowler‘. JASNA News, vol. 20, no. 2 (summer), 20. Available from http://www.jasna.org/bookrev/br202p20.html [24.10.2016] Hutcheon, L. (1985) A Theory of Parody. The Teachings of Twentieth-Century Art Forms. New York and London: Methuen Hutcheon, L. (2006) ‗Postmodernism‘. In The Routledge Companion to Critical Theory. Ed. by Malpas, S. and Wake, P. London and New York: Routledge, 115-126 Johnson, C. L. (1997) ‗Austen Cults and Cultures‘. In The Cambridge Companion to Jane Austen. Ed. by Copeland, E. and McMaster, J. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 211-226 Lynch, D. S. (2005) ‗Cult of Jane Austen‘. In Jane Austen in Context. Ed. by Todd, J. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 111-120 Malpas, S. (2005) The Postmodern. London and New York: Routledge Mirmohamadi, K. (2014) The Digital Afterlives of Jane Austen: Janeites at the Keyboard. Hampshire, New York: Palgrave Macmillan Mullan, J. (2004) ‗An Altogether Bad Idea‘. The Guardian [online]. 30 October. Available from https://www.theguardian.com/books/2004/oct/30/fiction.janeausten [24.10.2016] Neill, E. (2004) ‗―Little Women?‖ Karen Joy Fowler‘s Adventure in Austenland‘. Persuasions, no. 26, 249-254. Available from http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/printed/number26/neill.pdf [20.08.2017] O‘Conner, P. T. (2004) ‗Books. Mr Darcy Is a Boorish Snob. Please Discuss‘. The New York Times [online]. 2 May. Available from http://www.nytimes.com/2004/05/02/books/mr-darcy-is-a-boorish-snob- please-discuss.html [24.10.2016] O‘Farrell, M. A. (2009) ‗Austenian Subcultures‘. In A Companion to Jane Austen. Ed. by Johnson, C. and Tuite, C. Malden, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 478-487 Pucci, S. R. and Thompson, J. (2003) ‗Introduction: The Jane Austen Phenomenon: Remaking the Past at the Millennium‘. In Jane Austen and Co. Remaking the Past Cultural Intertexts Year IV Volume 7 (2017) 92 in Contemporary Culture. Ed. by Pucci, S. R. and Thompson, J. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1-10 Simons, J. (2009) ‗Jane Austen and Popular Culture‘. In A Companion to Jane Austen. Ed. by Johnson, C. and Tuite, C. Malden, Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 467-477 Southam, B. C. (ed.) (1987) Jane Austen. The Critical Heritage. Vol. 2. 1870-1940. London, New York: Routledge Svensson, A. (2013) ‗Pleasure and Profit. Re-presentations of Jane Austenʼ s Ever- Expanding Universe‘. In Global Jane Austen. Pleasure, Passion, and Possessiveness in the Jane Austen Community. Ed. by Raw, L. and Dryden, R. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 203-220 Swicord, R. (2007) The Jane Austen Book Club. [DVD]. USA: Sony Pictures Classics Inc., John Calley Productions Tauchert, A. (2005) Romancing Jane Austen. Narrative, Realism, and the Possibility of a Happy Ending. Hampshire, New York: Palgrave Macmillan Wells, J. (2011) Everybody‘s Jane. Austen in the Popular Imagination. London, New York: Continuum 
work_ualzuixj4vhw7oh6yh4pdortyq	----	A Tribute to Shu Chien’s Scientific Achievement This issue is dedicated to the scientific achievement of Professor Shu Chien on the occasion of his 80th birthday. The title of this issue is ‘‘Mechanobiology: a Tribute to Shu Chien’s Scientific Achievement.’’ Cer- tainly, Shu Chien has made enormous contributions to our understanding of the role of mechanics in biology, in particular as it pertains to the vascular system. His contributions, however, go far beyond vascular mechanobiology as will be discussed in this preface to this issue. To start with, Shu Chien was born 80 years ago in Beijing, China. His early education was in what is now the People’s Republic of China. This includes his pre- medical studies at Peking University. He then moved to Taiwan, and his M.D. degree was obtained in 1953 from the College of Medicine at National Taiwan University. In 1954 he moved to Columbia University in New York where he did his Ph.D. studies, receiving his degree in 1957. Following his Ph.D. Shu Chien joined the faculty in physiology at Columbia Univer- sity, starting as an Instructor and being promoted to the rank of Professor of Physiology in 1969. Early in his academic career Shu Chien became involved in studies of blood rheology and the micro- circulation. This ultimately led to his befriending Pro- fessor Richard Skalak, an engineering professor at Columbia University. These two friends forged a real intellectual partnership, and the first journal article that they co-authored was published in the early 1970s in the journal Biorheology. Although Shu Chien collaborated and published with many others, this friendship and partnership with Richard Skalak was critical in shaping his thinking. These two, Shu Chien and Dick Skalak, together with their collaborators including students, made a major impact on the field of bioengineering. Although most of their time together was at Columbia University, in 1988 they moved to the University of California, San Diego (UCSD), being recruited by Professors Y.C. Fung and Benjamin Zweifach. There they continued their collaboration and friendship until the passing of Dick Skalak in 1997. It was in the mid to late 1980s that Shu Chien turned part of the focus of his research to vascular endothelial biology, with the first publication in this area of research appearing in 1988. It was the entry of Shu Chien into the study of vascular endothelial biol- ogy and the continuing contributions he has made in the last 20 years that has firmly established Shu Chien as a leader in mechanobiology. He has continued to be at the forefront, and his studies over the years have involved the investigation of the various influences of different types of mechanical, i.e., physical force, environments on cell behavior. These have focused on a range of cellular responses including the cytoskele- ton, gene regulation, and signaling mechanisms. Throughout his career he has not only been at the forefront of the field intellectually, but a prolific indi- vidual. This includes more than 500 publications in peer-reviewed, archival journals, 11 books, and more than 50 book chapters and conference publications on science policy, public affairs, and other more general topics. This includes six tributes to others in the life science field. Because of his scientific achievements, Shu Chien’s career has been intertwined with the evolution of bio- engineering as a separate engineering discipline, one that integrates the science of biology with engineering. At UCSD he was the founding chair in 1994 of the Department of Bioengineering. He actually has served two terms as chair, 1994–1999 and 2002–2005. His impact in California, however, has been beyond UCSD. Within the University of California system he is University Professor of Bioengineering and Medi- cine, having been appointed to this position in 2002. This was followed in 2004 with his appointment as the Director of the University of California System Bio- engineering Institute of California, with his continuing to serve in this position. He also is at UCSD the Y.C. Fung Professor in Bioengineering and the Director of UCSD’s Institute of Engineering in Medicine. Nationally, Shu Chien has been active in a number of scientific societies. This includes serving as President of the following ones: the Microcirculatory Society (1980–1981), the American Physiological Society (1990–1991), the Federation of American Societies for Experimental Biology (FASEB) (1992–1993), the American Institute for Medical and Biological Engi- neering Society (2000–2001), and the Biomedical Engineering Society (2006–2008). Internationally he has also been at the forefront providing leadership. This includes being President of the International Society of Biorheology 2005–2008. He was chair of the 2005 International Congress of Biorheology held in Chungqing, China and also chair of the organizing committee for the International Congress of Physio- logical Sciences. This year Shu Chien is the honorary Cellular and Molecular Bioengineering, Vol. 4, No. 4, December 2011 (� 2011) pp. 507–508 DOI: 10.1007/s12195-011-0213-8 1865-5025/11/1200-0507/0 � 2011 Biomedical Engineering Society 507 Chair of the 7th Congress of the Federation of Asian and Oceanian Physiological Societies. The above leadership activities are the result of Shu Chien’s scientific achievements and his demonstration of being an effective leader. As a result he has more than 100 honors and awards. He is one of only five individuals who is a member of the National Academy of Sciences, the National Academy of Engineering, the Institute of Medicine, and the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. He also is a foreign member of the Chinese Academy of Sciences in Beijing and the Academia Sinica in Taiwan. Just recently President Barack Obama awarded Shu Chien the National Medal of Science, an honor for him that is extremely well deserved. As part of this tribute to Shu Chien and the cele- bration of his 80th birthday, it also is important to celebrate the 80th birthday of Shu’s wife Kuang- Chung Hu Chien, or K.C. as she is known in the community. K.C. is also an M.D. and the partnership of Shu and K.C. has been a strong element in the success of Shu Chien. K.C. has been a true and important partner in all that Shu has achieved. In closing, Shu Chien has truly followed what the poet Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, ‘‘Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.’’ In doing this he has left a trail for all of us and for our community. He has made enormous contributions to science and to mechanobi- ology, and he is a world leader in bioengineering and in physiology. He has been at the forefront of the devel- opment of bioengineering as an academic discipline both in the U.S. and internationally. He has mentored many students who have become leaders in the field and he has collaborated with many others. It is thus appropriate that this issue of this journal be a tribute to Shu Chien the scientist, Shu Chien the leader, and Shu Chien the person. Our knowl- edge of mechanobiology and the development of bioengineering as a discipline is what it is today because of the contributions of Shu Chien. Thus, this preface and the articles within this journal issue are not only a tribute, not only a happy birthday greeting on the occasion of his 80th birthday, but a celebration of the achievements, the life, and the person Shu Chien. Robert M. Nerem Parker H. Petit Institute for Bioengineering and Bioscience Georgia Institute of Technology Electronic mail: robert.nerem@ibb.gatech.edu R. M. NEREM508 A Tribute to Shu Chien’s Scientific Achievement 
work_uh4lifajxzckzlejd54x4paaca	----	SPRING CHICAGO CRITICAL UNDERSTANDING The Powers and Limits of Pluralism Wayne C. Booth Through extended accounts of three major pluralists, Ronald S. Crane, Kenneth Burke, and M. H. Abrams, and shorter considerations of many others, Booth pursues the problems raised for anyone who rejects the search for some single, unitary, perhaps even “scientific" resolution to conflicting critical methods. Cloth 352 pages $15.00 February ON THE MARGINS OF DISCOURSE The Relation of Literature to Language Barbara Herrnstein Smith "Barbara Herrnstein Smith is one of a very few outstanding theorists of literature writing today, and her new book is a' major contribution to the contemporary critical debate." —John M. Ellis, University of California, Santa Cruz Cloth 248 pages $12.50 November LITERATURE AGAINST ITSELF Literary Ideas in Modern Society Gerald Graff In this wide-ranging inquiry, which involves current educational and social criticism as well as literature and criticism, Graff looks into the reasons why humanistic thinkers have argued themselves into such self-defeating positions: why writers and critics have defined the humanis- tic enterprise in ways that implicitly trivialize it. Cloth 256 pages $14.00 December THE ORIGIN OF CERTAINTY Means and Meanings in Pascal's Pensees Hugh M. Davidson "This is an important and distinguished piece of work; it may very well be for years to come the authoritative analysis of Pascal available in English." —Jules Brody, Queens College, CUNY Cloth xii, 160 pages $12.00 January ADVERBS, VOWELS, AND OTHER OBJECTS OF WONDER James 0. McCawley "McCawley is a seminal, productive, important thinker in the field, and this book of essays is as much to be welcomed as was his Grammar and Meaning."— John Robert Ross, M. I. T. Cloth 320 pages $20.00 January THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS Chicago 60637 Insisting that Emerson’s biography is profoundly literary and his litera- ture inextricably biographical, Joel Porte offers both fresh readings of Emerson’s best work and a detailed account of how that work—from Nature to The Conduct of Life —grew directly from his life. $15.95 REPRESENTATIVE MAN Ralph Waldo Emerson in His Time Joel Porte -- ——• ^1 This pioneering work not only explores the intellectual links between the novelist of decorous detachment and the philosopher of feverish ex- tremes but also illuminates a moment in cultural history which produced a radical new view of the relationship between life and art. $15.95 NIETZSCHE, HENRY JAMES, AND THE ARTISTIC WILL Stephen Donadio By adhering closely to the text—but not to traditional readings of it— these lively, argumentative readings of Hamlet, Macbeth, Anthony and Cleopatra, and Coriolanus seek to liberate the Bard from hidebound criticism, approaching characters as people rather than literary con- structs. $11.95 SHAKESPEARE’S MAGNANIMITY Four Tragic Heroes, Their Friends, and Families Wilbur Sanders and Howard Jacobson Blending memories and documents, Christopher Fry traces the intricate pattern of events that shaped his family history and his own formative years. Letters, diaries, and photographs enhance this intimate memoir of some remarkable people, not least the playwright himself. $13.95 CAN YOU FIND ME A Family History Christopher Fry OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 200 Madison Avenue New York, N.Y. 10016 "l478~ 1978 Publishers of Fine Books for Five Centuries 
work_ujepbzqsmvcn3cqpqy2q4uf45q	----	Microsoft Word - Anglo-Saxonism in C19th Poetry.docx Anglo-Saxonism in Nineteenth-Century Poetry Abstract: This article essays the first survey of nineteenth-century poetry that imitates, alludes to, or draws on, theories about Anglo-Saxon language and/or literature. Criticism has so far overlooked such a field as forming a distinct body of literature with shared preoccupations and influences, although some previous attention has been paid to the Anglo-Saxonism of individual poets or texts. This essay, then, provides the first scoping exercise of the extent and limits of a field one could term nineteenth-century Anglo- Saxonist poetry. This corpus is briefly contextualized within the wider field of Anglo- Saxonist literature, itself an important sub-genre of medievalism and medievalist literature. A possible fourfold typology is offered as a framework within which further study might be continued. Some consideration is briefly paid to the use of Anglo-Saxon in the poetry of William Wordsworth, Walter Scott, Alfred Tennyson, Lewis Carroll, William Barnes, William Morris, and Gerard Manley Hopkins. The importance of antiquarianism and philology is emphasized, with passing reference made to writers such as Sharon Turner, George Marsh, and to the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson. The essay addresses a neglected topic in the broader field of the reception of the Middle Ages, and in particular the recovery and reception of Anglo-Saxon, or Old English language and poetry. The essay concludes by suggesting that new narrative models of literary history made be required to accommodate the concept of ‘nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxon poetry’. Since the Middle Ages large claims have often been made about the origins of the English people, language, literature, political and legal systems being located in the Anglo-Saxon period; indeed, serious modern interest in Anglo-Saxon texts began in order to try to prove that the tradition of an English church independent in some degree from the Vatican had ‘always’ existed since its Anglo-Saxon origins, and thus legitimize sixteenth-century English Protestantism (Douglas 19 & 52-3; Lutz 1-3). Post-mediaeval uses of the Anglo-Saxon period shed important light, therefore, on how members of English-speaking cultures have seen themselves and wished others to see themselves. This observation is particularly true of Britain during the nineteenth century, when the validating narratives of a ‘Greater England’, projecting itself on the world stage as an imperialist superpower, required suitable myths of origin and manifest destiny, and often posited them in the Anglo-Saxon period.1 As nationalism, in various differing guises, remains a potent force in the English speaking world, fuller investigation and better understanding of the often highly politicized uses into which the Anglo-Saxon past has been pressed is much to be desired. Although still an emerging sub-field of the academic inter-discipline ‘Mediaevalism’ (the study of post-mediaeval uses of the Middle Ages more generally),2 ‘Anglo-Saxonism’ is an expanding and vital area of research, and one which requires and encourages collaboration between scholars of different periods and disciplines within the Humanities. For much of the late twentieth century the bulk of the important work on appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons was written by historians, although literary scholars are starting to become more interested in this area. In particular, a substantial body of work has been produced on the myth that a ‘Norman Yoke’ was imposed on ‘native’ Saxon-English liberties and political institutions after the Conquest of 1066, a myth that was popularized throughout most of the nineteenth century by the opening chapter of Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe (1819), in many respects the agenda-setting granddaddy of nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxonisms. Strands of a phenomenon as various as Anglo-Saxonism are impossible to separate off from one another, and Anglo- Saxonist poetry is inevitably informed by other forms of Anglo-Saxonist discourse, such as the view that ‘native’ institutions, words, and forms of cultural expression of Anglo- Saxon derivation are superior to those borrowed from other, non-English-speaking communities. Consequently the student of nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxonist poetry might wish to familiarise her or himself with some of this scholarship, best accessed in Hill (Puritanism and Revolution 58-125), Horsman (Race and Manifest Destiny), MacDougall, (Racial Myth in English History), and Simmons (Reversing the Conquest). Of special note is literary scholar Allen Frantzen’s excellent Desire for Origins. Frantzen’s book illuminated a number of the ways in which the recovery and study of Old English poetry during the nineteenth century was ideologically driven.3 Although less analytical than Frantzen’s work, Hall (‘Anglo-Saxon Studies in the Nineteenth Century’) is useful in providing a comprehensive overview of the nineteenth-century scholarship that underwrote and informed the use of Anglo-Saxon in the work of contemporary poets. In summary, the information salient to the present study that emerges from such a body of scholarship is that during the nineteenth century there were in essence two controlling ideas at work related to the Anglo-Saxon: that Anglo-Saxon culture was primitive, or even uncivilized; and that Anglo-Saxon culture contained, in embryonic form, the expression of subsequent English (or British, or Anglo-Saxon American) national traits, therefore seen as somehow essential or even timeless. The first controlling idea, that the Anglo-Saxon is primitive, could itself take one of two aspects: Anglo-Saxon primitiveness expressed vigour and cultural resilience (something akin to Rousseau’s idea of ‘the noble savage’); or alternatively the Anglo-Saxon primitive was imaged as rude, barbaric, and in need of refinement and evolution. In this latter case the Norman Conquest was typically identified as providing the necessary civilizing catalyst to progress. The first inflection of the ‘primitive thesis’ could also (although need not) be deployed in conjunction with the second controlling idea, to argue that a primitive toughness still characterised the English/British/global Anglo-Saxon character and institutions, or that it ought to, if that character and those institutions were maintained in a manner true to their supposed origins. Or, to put the relationship between imagined past and present the other way around, it is believed that a germ of primitive vigour found in pre-Conquest culture prefigured and guaranteed the future greatness of the English people and their diaspora. But the ‘proto-English’ thesis could also be held independently of the primitivism thesis, and therefore either implicitly or explicitly irreconcilable to it. According to such a point of view all the hallmarks of a highly sophisticated and civilized culture, in particular democratic political institutions and artistic achievements, were already in evidence, and recognisably familiar as ‘English’, before the Norman Conquest. The course of history had only to make small, gradual refinements to these institutions, rather than revolutionize them wholesale. If the relationship between these two prevailing ideas, and the ways in which they modified one another, sound less than clear-cut, then the situation has been accurately understood; through the existence of these controlling frames some writers were able to express both admiration and distaste for the Anglo-Saxon simultaneously and without an apparent sense of self-contradiction. We can take the English historian Sharon Turner as an indicative example, as his multi-volume History of the Anglo- Saxons, first published between 1799 and 1805 was immensely influential during the nineteenth century, having been reissued in seven editions by 1852. Turner always saw the Anglo-Saxons as proto-English, stating at the beginning of his work: ‘The present composition aspires to relate the history of this celebrated nation, with whose antiquities our present state is so essentially connected.’ (Turner 1: 2-3). Yet Turner was equally capable of writing about the ancestral culture as both sophisticated, and crude by turns: During that period which it is the office of this work to commemorate, it [Anglo-Saxon poetry] existed in a rude and barbaric state. It could, indeed, have been scarcely more uncultivated, to have been at all discernible. (Turner 4: 374) This language [Anglo-Saxon] has been thought to be a very rude and barren tongue, incapable of expressing any thing but the most simple and barbarous ideas. The truth, however, is that it is a very copious language, and is capable of expressing any subject of human thought. […] books of history, belles lettres, and poetry, may be now written in it, with considerable precision and correctness, and even with much discrimination, and some elegance of expression. (Turner 4: 511) Turner manages to make this apparent contradiction partly cohere by suggesting that an evolutionary process of gradual sophistication took place even during the Anglo- Saxon period, and before the Norman advent; thus the Anglo-Saxons were primitive at the time of their migration, and culturally mature by the eleventh century. Certainly Turner is to be praised for not treating a six-century period of history as one of complete cultural stasis, in wait for the coming impact, whether negative or positive, of the Conquest. Nevertheless, the philological scholarship available to Turner was not sufficient to allow him to construct with any degree of accuracy the kind of literary history he desired. Consequently, the chronology of Turner’s narrative had to be assembled on the basis primarily of value judgments: ‘crude’ poems were early ones, ‘sophisticated’ poems, late. Needless to say, modern scholarship is not always in agreement with Turner’s dating, but even within the History, there is much jumping around and juggling of the two positions on the supposed primitiveness of the Anglo- Saxons. Turner has been used here in isolation partly for convenience, but also because he inaugurates a common stock of subsequently oft-repeated views that draw on the twin rhetorical frameworks of the primtivism and nativism theses. Even from this brief summary and single illustration, it should be evident that nineteenth-century uses of the pre-Conquest past were always, to some degree, teleological – that is to say, the past was used as a tool for explaining the present, as it appeared to its contemporaries. Undergirding both the controlling ideas outlined above is an unquestioned a view of historical change as progressive (the so-called ‘whiggish’ view of history), and a narrative model that appeals to almost Darwinian evolutionary mechanisms as governing ethnic groups and nation states. In this respect, both theses, although aspiring to super-historical objectivity, are clearly products of their own time. Inevitably, Anglo-Saxonist poetry is often marked by one or both of these dominant ideas, in one or more of their guises, and the student of this poetry needs some basic awareness of how these frameworks operated more generally. However, valuable as historical studies of Anglo-Saxonism have been, as yet there is no sustained overview of the use of Anglo-Saxon in nineteenth-century poetry, but only scattered secondary material on individual authors. This is perhaps surprising, given that the equivalent work has been done for twentieth-century poetry (Jones, Strange Likeness) and by scholars of Old Norse on the revival of interest in that literature among Victorian writers (see, for example, Wawn, The Vikings and the Victorians). The relative invisibility of the subject in scholarship might itself reflect the fate of Anglo- Saxonism in the twentieth century. Tom Shippey has provocatively argued that the Anglo-Saxon world has virtually no presence in contemporary popular culture, because ‘the potentially powerful image of Anglo-Saxon origins was sacrificed during the nineteenth century to the needs of an Imperial and a British, not an English ideology’, and that the image of the Celtic, Romano-British Arthur became a more expedient symbol of national origins within a mixed-nation British state (Shippey 223). Andrew Sanders takes a similar position in an essay in the same volume as Shippey’s (Sanders 162). In comparison with the small mountain of scholarship on Victorian Arthuriana, the relative lack of attention paid to Anglo-Saxonist poetry of the same period serves only to illustrate Shippey’s point further. Nevertheless, the argument that Shippey and Sanders make is, like that of the Anglo-Saxonists they study, a teleological one. While it may have explained the situation in its present moment of composition (and since then the appearance of a Nobel prize-winning poet’s translation of Beowulf, and a blockbusting Hollywood movie of the same poem have already diminished some of the force of that argument), we should not, as a result of its persuasive teleology, overlook the fact that appropriation of the Anglo-Saxons was widespread in many forms of literature during the nineteenth century. As Donald Scragg’s valuable introductory essay on the topic, ‘The Anglo-Saxons: fact and fiction’, notes ‘in the nineteenth century, interest in the Anglo-Saxons in general, and King Alfred in particular, reached a height greater than at any other period since the Norman Conquest’ (Scragg 16).4 Scragg’s essay (which ranges from the twelfth to the twentieth centuries) effectively demonstrates the extent to which literary Anglo-Saxonism in a number of different genres was both widespread and deeply embedded in nineteenth-century culture. However, what it does not concern itself with, naturally enough for a survey essay, is defining or describing a corpus of nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxonist poetry, as distinct from literary Anglo-Saxonism in other genres or from other periods. This essay is, then, the first to begin to outline a disparate body of poetry that shares a preoccupation with things Anglo-Saxon, and as such does not attempt a definitive account of such corpus, but rather to open up avenues for further exploration.5 Broadly speaking we could posit four categories of poem that we might wish to consider when we think of the phenomenon of Anglo-Saxonist poetry. Firstly, and perhaps most obviously, there are poems which allude to, or take as their material, Anglo-Saxon subjects. William Wordsworth’s sonnet on King Alfred, the fifteenth sonnet of his sequence Ecclesiastical Sketches (1822) is a case in point (Wordsworth 153-4). The poem is about an Anglo-Saxon, but does not adopt or imitate forms of Anglo-Saxon poetry or language; indeed, this is far from the poem’s purpose, positioning itself, through the use of the sonnet form, firmly in the mainstream of nineteenth-century English poetic tradition. In general the vantage point from which poems of this type narrate their subject is clearly that of the moment of composition. Wordsworth’s ‘Alfred’ is quite typical in its opening injunction that the reader ‘Behold’ the figure of the King; the early past is presented as if through a window-, or picture-frame that faces the viewing point of the present tense. In the closing lines of the sonnet, one is aware of an originary value being invested in Alfred’s small, embryonic state, and its fledgling relationship with globalism. This, if not uniquely a nineteenth-century perspective, is certainly a way of seeing the early English past as prefiguring the present, and typical of Anglo-Saxonism in this period. In particular the notion of Alfred’s Wessex as ‘spark’, with all the connotations that word choice suggests of initiating a subsequently larger conflagration, is typical: Though small his kingdom as a spark or gem, Of Alfred boasts remote Jerusalem, And Christian India gifts with Alfred shares By sacred converse link’d with India’s clime. (Wordsworth 153-154) There is nothing per se that distinguishes Anglo-Saxonist poetry in this category from any other literature that treats Anglo-Saxon as subject material, such as Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s novel, Harold: the Last of the Saxon Kings (1848), or Martin Tupper’s, Alfred, A Patriotic Play (1858). For an initial scoping of the range of work that could be included within this grouping, one should consult the aforementioned essays by Scragg and Shippey, as well as Lynda Pratt’s ‘Anglo-Saxon attitudes? Alfred the Great and the Romantic national epic’. Hypothesizing a second category, we could group together poems that attempt to pass themselves off as Anglo-Saxon, imitating the forms of Anglo-Saxon verse as they were understood at the time, and, as a result, often creating imagined and desired forms. Naturally the narrative position of these poems is not at all similar to that of poems in our first category; they purport to be written in the period itself, and form an equivalent poetic genre to the historical novel. It is no surprise, therefore, that several significant early examples of this type occur within Walter Scott’s Ivanhoe. To give but one example from this novel: a female Saxon character called Ulrica, who burns to death in her ancestral castle, having set fire to it herself during its siege, utters a ‘war-song’ with her dying breaths. Scott’s own footnote to the poem tells us that while it is not typical of the ‘softer’ poetry of the Anglo-Saxons after their conversion, in its similarities to ‘the antique poetry of the Scalds – the minstrels of the old Scandinavians’, the war-song’s ‘wild strains’, are also those of her Saxon forefathers, to which Ulrica therefore naturally reverts under the extreme pressure of the situation (Scott 517). Scott lays the poem out in four stanzas, in accord with a commonly expressed belief that Saxon poetry was often strophic. In composing this poem as ‘authentically’ as he is able, Scott had absorbed Turner’s analysis of the style of Saxon poetry as consisting chiefly of periphrasis, repetition and violent interjections (Turner 4: 395-396). Modern scholars recognise the first two qualities and treat them as part of a sophisticated technical device now dubbed ‘variation’,6 but to Turner these traits were indicative of an inability to compose verse in a hierarchical syntax, and thus a form of literary primitivism. Scott, who used Turner’s History as a source for Ivanhoe (Scott xx), absorbed such opinions, as is plain from the third stanza of Ulrica’s poem: Dark sits the evening upon the thane’s castle, The black clouds gather round; Soon shall they be red as the blood of the valiant! The destroyer shall shake his red crest against them; He, the bright consumer of the palaces, Broad waves he his blazing banner, Red, wide and dusky, Over the strife of the valiant; His joy is in the clashing swords and broken bucklers; He loves to lick the hissing blood as it bursts warm from the wound! (Scott 340-341) Although poems such as this one, ventriloquizing Anglo-Saxon, project themselves forward into modern English tradition, in effect it is rather the case that the ideals of later English poetry are written back over the imagined literature of the Anglo-Saxons. Thus a pseudo-continuity of forms is created, in order to legitimize the present as inheritor to a venerable tradition of great antiquity. In Ulrica’s song the gears of such a teleological drive are stanzaic form and a vocabulary borrowed from Thomas Gray’s Odes. In other instances of this kind of poetry, such as ‘The Crusader’s Return’, and Rowena’s Hymn, to suggest two more from Ivanhoe (Scott 191-192 & 468), or the songs by Edith and the First Thane in Tennyson’s Harold (1876), salient features might include anachronistic use of rhyme, refrain or ballad metre. In effect, then, poetic form is used to make an argument about English literary history. Alongside these pseudo-Saxon poems, we might also wish to consider certain poetic translations from Old English into modern.7 Tennyson’s Battle of Brunanburh, for instance, adopts a strophic structure of fifteen stanzas of variable length, and an exclamatory syntax that is partly dependent for its effect on its sometimes abruptly short lines: IX Also the crafty one, Constantinus, Crept to his North again, Hoar-headed hero! X Slender warrant had He to be proud of The welcome of war-knives – He that was reft of his Folk and his friends that had Fallen in conflict, Leaving his son too Lost in the carnage, Mangled to morsels, A youngster in war! (Ricks 623-624) Tennyson’s translation has been afforded the dignity of study by scholars of Anglo- Saxon (Alexander ‘Tennyson’s “Battle of Brunanburh”’ and Irving): Scott’s forgery has not. Yet both are performances of what Anglo-Saxon poetry was thought to have sounded like during the nineteenth century. In common with Tennyson’s ‘Brunanburh’ the full text of Scott’s war-song deploys many lines uncommonly short by the standards of the mainstream English tradition. These owe their existence to the practice, common among English antiquarians until the middle of the century, of setting what we are accustomed to thinking of as the Anglo-Saxon line of verse, over two lines (Anglo-Saxon poems are not lineated at all in manuscript, but written out continuously, as prose). This was in turn taken by Turner and others, as being indicative of the primitivism of the poetry; had the Saxons been more advanced they would have been able to continue their verse line for several more syllables before having to pause and begin anew. The short, ‘primitive’ line is not all that Tennyson owes to the antiquarian tradition here. Nineteenth-century scholars often referred to Brunanburh as an ‘ode’, identifying that form as a major genre of Anglo-Saxon verse.8 Tennyson’s performance of the poem then, re-enacts it as a native English equivalent to the Pindaric Ode, or more precisely, an equivalent to the form as it was adopted into English by Abraham Cowley as the irregular ‘Pindarique Ode’ (Brogan 208). Thus the cultural prestige of a major literary genre that originated in classical antiquity is re-sourced to the early English Middle Ages. This manoeuvre, of bolstering the pedigree of English literature by extending the roots of its contemporary forms and fashions further back into history, and securing them as always already English, is common to Anglo-Saxonist poems belonging to this category. Poems of this type are putatively proleptic of a future tradition that has in fact already been established. Nationalist pride and the desire for cultural superpower status clearly fuel this drive to write Anglo-Saxon into a continuous poetic tradition, by writing that tradition back over Anglo-Saxon. Poems effecting such a strategy were eventually overtaken by philological scholarship, which usually disproved the continuities that these poems sought to make; by the time the majority of the corpus of Anglo-Saxon verse had been edited, for example, it was clear that the evidence for strophic Anglo-Saxon poetry was slight, to say the least.9 One of the last poems to be composed in this vein was Lewis Carroll’s ‘Jabberwocky’, the first verse of which is claimed as a ‘Stanza of Anglo-Saxon Poetry’ in the family manuscript magazine-cum-scrapbook where it appeared before being subsequently expanded and incorporated into Alice Through the Looking Glass (Carroll 139). Carroll’s performance of Anglo-Saxon poetry as almost balladic in structure marks the descent of this strain of Anglo-Saxonism into self-parody. Twentieth-century Anglo-Saxonism distinguishes itself from nineteenth- in part by the absence of material we might think of as belonging to this type. Where the twentieth century is richer than the nineteenth is in poems that adapt actual Anglo-Saxon poetic forms for use in contemporary compositions, rather than back- forming invented forms for pseudo-historical poetry in the image of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century practice. Thus a third category of Anglo-Saxonist poetry can be postulated, one that would include work that acknowledges its contemporaneity at the same time as imitating, or improvising freely on (for example) the use of four-stress lines of varying syllable length, patterns of internal alliteration, or complex subject- variation. This is not merely the equivalent of the second category, but ‘getting it right’ according to the standards of modern scholarship. For in reviving techniques that have not been practised in English poetry for several centuries, one is in part acknowledging, rather than arguing against, a discontinuity of tradition. It is the course of the same philological scholarship that gradually denied the primacy of the second category of Anglo-Saxonist writing which also opened up the possibilities of the third, a fact which explains why poems of this kind come to predominate in work later than the scope of this essay.10 Nevertheless, it is perhaps worth noting William Morris’s translation of ‘The Tale of Beowulf’ (1895) as an early attempt by a major poet to imitate structural forms in a way that we might now think of as more’ authentically’ Anglo-Saxon. Morris benefitted from the specialist knowledge of his collaborator on the project, the Anglo- Saxon scholar A. J. Wyatt, and, without attempting to follow the alliterative patterns of Anglo-Saxon verse slavishly, managed to approximate the accentual, four-stress line more accurately than his poetic forebears, even if the whole is somewhat marred by cod mediaevalist archaisms. The wolf-bents they bide in, on the nesses the windy, The perilous fen-paths where the stream of the fell-side Midst the mists of the nesses wends netherward ever, The flood under earth. Naught far away hence, But a mile-mark forsooth, there standeth the mere, And over it ever hang groves all berimed, The wood fast by the roots over-helmeth the water. (Morris. Lines 1358–1364) While most modern critics have little patience for this experiment, Morris’s work was judged successful in its time,11 and exerted some influence on the practice of Ezra Pound. Thus the dominant form of twentieth-century poetic Anglo-Saxonism is anticipated and partly established towards the end of the nineteenth. However, a more distinctively nineteenth-century form of poetic Anglo-Saxonism existed, and one that we might think of as constituting a fourth category, that is poetry that had absorbed the tenets of the philological drive behind Anglo-Saxon studies. For it was during the course of the nineteenth century that the history of English, and the whole Indo-European family of languages, became well understood.12 Linguists in this period were naturally enamoured by the romance of recovering earlier (and sometimes even lost) verbal forms of contemporary languages, a discovery that seemed to open access to the far past in new ways, and was surrounded by the same glamour and excitement of the great archaeological investigations into the far past, such as at Troy. Writers on language often subscribed to a myth of linguistic origins, believing that earlier, more ‘primitive’ words were more poetic, powerful and meaningful than decadent, contemporary language. American poet and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson is typical in his expression of this view in his 1836 work Nature: As we go back in history, language becomes more picturesque, until its infancy, when it is all poetry; or all spiritual facts are represented by natural symbols. […] The corruption of man is followed by the corruption of language. (Emerson Nature 37) A few years later, in ‘The Poet’ (1844), Emerson makes the analogy with archaeological recovery more explicit: For, though the origin of most of our words is forgotten, each word was at first a stroke of genius, and obtained currency, because for the moment it symbolized the world to the first speaker and to the hearer. The etymologist finds the deadest word to have been once a brilliant picture. Language is fossil poetry. (Emerson ‘The Poet’ 457) For writers in English, this myth of origins meant that words derived from Anglo-Saxon (the earliest form of the English language for which we have records) were held to be superior to those which had evolved, or come into the language at a later stage in its history. The American philologist George Marsh (with whose writing Gerard Manley Hopkins was familiar) is unambiguous in this respect: The popular mind shrinks from new words, as from aliens not yet rightfully entitled to a place in our community, while antiquated and half-forgotten native vocables, like trusty friends returning after an absence so long that their features are but dimly remembered, are welcomed with double warmth, when once their history and their worth are brought back to our recollection. (Marsh 176) Marsh is hopeful that ‘we may recover and reincorporate into our common Anglican dialect’ words of Anglo-Saxon origin that have long been forgotten (87), and is encouraged to detect a greater proportion of words of Anglo-Saxon derivation being used by nineteenth-century writers than by eighteenth-century writers (126-127). Philological primitivism of this kind fed into the work of Hopkins, who often plays on the etymological meaning of words of Anglo-Saxon derivation in his poems. In ‘Harry Ploughman’, for instance, Hopkins works to portray the ploughman’s strength and muscularity as supple, and even fluid (images of liquidity abound), rather than solid (Gardner 104). Accordingly, Harry’s thigh is ‘lank’, a puzzling word choice until one considers its derivation from Anglo-Saxon hlanc, ‘flexible’. Likewise, Harry’s plough is said to ‘wallow’, a word which Hopkins hopes we will understand not only in its contemporary senses, but also with the connotations of Anglo-Saxon wealwian, which could mean ‘to revolve’, or ‘roll’, as a wheel does, but could also be used of the motion of a ship through waves. This lexical Anglo-Saxon nativism can also be detected in the work of William Barnes, who has a predilection for compounding new words from purely Anglo-Saxon roots, rather than using polysyllabic Latinate vocabulary, and in some of the later work of William Morris. Matthew Reynolds has written well on Tennyson’s use of Anglo-Saxon-derived vocabulary in The Princess, and in Idylls of the King (Reynolds 239-243 & 267-270) and some good work has been done on this aspect of Hopkins’s poetic practice (mostly in passing throughout Milroy and Plotkin),13 but in general this branch of nineteenth-century Anglo-Saxonist poetry still lacks an overall study, and is ripe for further exploration. Naturally, these four groupings are not intended to be rigid or exclusive; in practice some Anglo-Saxonist poems display characteristics representative of more than one category. In particular Tennyson’s work can be seen as overlapping several of the distinctions I have been drawing above. But however provisional such a typology as the one essayed here might be, it will at least provide a first attempt at a map with which the student can begin to explore this rich territory. There is much groundwork still to be done in this area. Once some of the basics are established there are significant implications for the place of Anglo-Saxon within standard English literary histories, as well as opportunities for re-theorizing literary history more generally. Arguably Anglo- Saxon poetry ‘belongs’ in the nineteenth century as much as it does in the ninth. If this argument were to be accepted, a new way of writing literary history, one less reliant on the sequential division of literature into discrete, period-bound chapters would have to be sought. This will require scholars to risk more by working ‘outside’ their period (although even such a language for thinking about scholarly expertise might usefully be dispensed with), but it will also require scholars to collaborate more across period boundaries, even across periods that are not coterminous. And that might be both about time, and about time. Works Cited Aarsleff, Hans. The Study of Language in England, 1780-1860. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1967. Alexander, Michael. ‘Tennyson’s “Battle of Brunanburh.”’ The Tennyson Research Bulletin 4 (1985): 151-161. Alexander, Michael. Medievalism: The Middle Ages in the Modern World. New Haven: Yale UP, 2007. Boenig, Robert. ‘The Importance of Morris’s Beowulf.’ Journal of the William Morris Society 12 (1997): 7-13. Brogan, T. V. F. Ed. The New Princeton Handbook of Poetic Terms. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1994. Bulwer-Lytton, Edward. Harold: the Last of the Saxon Kings. 3 vols. London: Bentley, 1848. Carroll, Lewis. The Rectory Unbrella and Mischmasch. Ed. Florence Milner. New York: Dover, 1971. Conybeare, John Josias. Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry. London: Harding and Lepard, 1826. D’Arcens, Louise. ‘Inverse Invasions: Medievalism and Colonialism in Rolf Boldrewood’s A Sydney-Side Saxon.’ Parergon 22 (2005): 159-182. Douglas, David. English Scholars 1660-1730. 2nd ed. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1951. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. Nature. Boston: J. Munroe, 1836. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. ‘The Poet.’ Essays and Lectures. Ed. Joel Porte. New York: Penguin, 1983. 445-468. Frantzen, Allen. Desire for Origins: New Language, Old English, and Teaching the Tradition. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1990. Gardner, W. H. and M. H. MacKenzie. Ed. The Poems of Gerard Manley Hopkins. 4th ed. London: Oxford UP, 1967. Hall, J. R. ‘Anglo-Saxon Studies in the Nineteenth Century: England, Denmark, America.’ A Companion to Anglo-Saxon Poetry. Ed. Phillip Pulsiano and Elaine Treharne. Oxford: Blackwell, 2001. 434-454. Hill, Christopher. Puritanism and Revolution: Studies in Interpretation of the English Revolution of the Seventeenth Century. 2nd ed. Harmondworth: Penguin, 1986. Horsman, Reginald. Race and Manifest Destiny: the Origins of American Racial Anglo- Saxonism. Cambridge MA: Harvard UP, 1981. Irving Jr., Edward B. ‘The Charge of the Saxon Brigade: Tennyson’s Battle of Brunanburh.’ Literary Appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons from the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century. Ed. Donald Scragg and Carole Weinberg. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 174-193. Jones, Chris. Strange Likeness: The Use of Old English in Twentieth-Century Poetry. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2006. Jones, Chris. ‘The Reception of William Morris’s Beowulf.’ Writing on the Image: Reading William Morris. Ed. David Latham. Toronto: Toronto UP, 2007. 197-208. Jones, Chris. Fossil Poetry: Anglo-Saxon and Linguistic Nativism in the Nineteenth Century. Oxford: Oxford UP, forthcoming. Lester, G. A. The Language of Old and Middle English Poetry. Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1996. Lutz, Angelika. ‘The Study of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle in the Seventeenth Century and the Establishment of Old English Studies in the Universities.’ The Recovery of Old English: Anglo-Saxon Studies in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Ed. Timothy Graham. Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 2000. 1-82. MacDougall, Hugh. Racial Myth in English History: Trojans, Teutons and Anglo-Saxons. Montreal: Harvest House, 1982. Marsh, George Perkins. Lectures on the English Language. 2nd ed. London: Samson Low, 1860. Original publication 1859. Milroy, James. The Language of Gerard Manley Hopkins. London: André Deutsch, 1977. Morris, William. ‘The Tale of Beowulf.’ The Collected Works of William Morris. Ed. May Morris. 24 vols. London: Longmans, 1910-1915. 10: 179-274. Plotkin, Cary H. The Tenth Muse: Victorian Philology and the Genesis of the Poetic Language of Gerard Manley Hopkins. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 1989. Pratt, Lynda. ‘Anglo-Saxon attitudes? Alfred the Great and the Romantic national epic.’ Literary Appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons from the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century. Eds. Donald Scragg and Carole Weinberg. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 138-156. Quinn, William A. ‘Hopkins’ Anglo-Saxon.’ Hopkins Quarterly 8 (1981): 25-32. Reynolds, Matthew. The Realms of Verse 1830-1870: English Poetry in a Time of Nation-Building. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2001. Ricks, Christopher. Ed. Tennyson: A Selected Edition. Harlow: Longman, 1989. Robinson, Fred. C. Beowulf and the Appositive Style. Knoxville: U Tennessee P, 1985. Sanders, Andrew. ‘ “Utter Indifference”?: the Anglo-Saxons in the nineteenth-century novel.’ Literary Appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons from the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century. Ed. Donald Scragg and Carole Weinberg. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 157-173. Scott, Walter. Ivanhoe. Ed. Ian Duncan. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. Scragg, Donald. ‘The Anglo-Saxons: fact and fiction.’ Literary Appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons from the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century. Ed. Donald Scragg and Carole Weinberg. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 1-21. Warton, Thomas. The History of English Poetry. rev ed. Richard Price. 4 vols. London: Thomas Tegg, 1824. Shippey, Tom. ‘The undeveloped image: Anglo-Saxon in popular consciousness from Turner to Tolkien.’ Literary Appropriations of the Anglo-Saxons from the Thirteenth to the Twentieth Century. Eds. Donald Scragg and Carole Weinberg. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2000. 215-236. Simmons, Clare A. Reversing the Conquest: History and Myth in Nineteenth-Century British Literature. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 1990. Tennyson, Alfred. Harold: A Drama. London: H. S. King, 1877 [1876]. Tilling, P. M. ‘William Morris’s Translation of Beowulf: Studies in His Vocabulary.’ Studies in English Language and Literature in Honour of Paul Christophersen. Ed. P. M. Tilling. Coleraine: New University of Ulster Press, 1981. 163-175. Tupper, Martin. Alfred, A Patriotic Play. London: [n pub], 1858. Turner, Sharon. The History of the Anglo-Saxons. 4 vols. London: T. Cadell, Jun. and W. Davies, 1799-1805. Wawn, Andrew. The Vikings and the Victorians: Inventing the Old North in Nineteenth- Century Britain. Cambridge: D S Brewer, 2000. Woolf, Henry Bosley. ‘Longfellow’s Interest in Old English.’ Philologica: The Malone Anniversary Studies. Ed Thomas A. Kirby and Henry Bosley Woolf. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1949. 281-89. Wordsworth, William. Sonnet Series and Itinerary Poems, 1820-1845. Ed. Stephen Parrish. The Cornell Wordsworth. Ithaca: Cornell UP, 2004. 1 Although see D’Arcens ‘Inverse Invasions’, for an excellent example of how the history of pressing issues of contemporary political concern can be explored in nineteenth- century Anglo-Saxonist writing from outwith Great Britain, and without falling into the trap of being glibly presentist. 2 Of which, the most recent book-length study is Alexander Medievalism: The Middle Ages in the Modern World. 3 See in particular pages 27-35, 62-77, 190-198 & 207-213. 4 See also Simmons, who notes that a golden Saxon age is posited in the Victorian period by the Victorians. Simmons Reversing the Conquest 7. 5 Although for more in-depth consideration, see Jones Fossil Poetry. 6 For further explication of this technique, see Robinson Beowulf and the Appositive Style, especially, but not exclusively 3-28; and Lester The Language of Old and Middle English Poetry, 67-74. 7 Longfellow made some translations from Anglo-Saxon in a similar manner. His poetry has not yet been systemically studied for Anglo-Saxon influence or allusions. For what has been done so far in this respect, see Woolf. 8 See for example Richard Price’s preface to his edition of Thomas Warton’s History of English Poetry (Warton 1: xxxix – xli); and Conybeare Illustrations of Anglo-Saxon Poetry lxxx. 9 Certainly it is possible that there was a now vanished tradition of strophic construction. One solitary poem, Deor, deploys a refrain, which one might argue is evidence of division into something akin to stanzas, but nothing similar has survived. 10 For examples in the work of Ezra Pound W. H. Auden, Edwin Morgan and Seamus Heaney, see Jones Strange Likeness. 11 See Jones ‘The Reception of William Morris’s Beowulf’. For studies of the translation see Tilling and Boenig. 12 The best introductory account of this enterprise is still Aarsleff The Study of Language in England, 1780-1860. 13 For discussion of Hopkins’ sources for possible knowledge of Anglo-Saxon literature, as opposed to language, see Quinn. 
work_uoz62ed7rfhsrjf32l346pscta	----	AMS volume 19 issue 1 Cover and Back matter YALE Gold Seeker Adventures of a Belgian Argonaut during the Gold Rush Years Jean-Nicolas Perlot Translated by Helen Harding Bretnor Edited and with an introduction by Howard R. Lamar A witty and engrossing account of a young Belgian's experiences in California and Oregon during the Gold Rush years. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 https://www.cambridge.org/core tbifdti' The complete works of America's greatest authors - novelists, poets, dramatists, philosophers, essayists, historians - are for the first time being collected in a uniform series of handsome hardcover volumes. Each volume comprises several works by a single writer, all in authoritative texts derived when possible from the definitive scholarly edition. 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Hard covers £25.00 net Paperback £7.95 net Cambridge English Prose Texts CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S F O R C O N T R I B U T O R S 1 A l l c o n t r i b u t i o n s a n d e d i t o r i a l c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s h o u l d be sent t o : T h e E d i t o r , Journal of American Studies, S c h o o l o f E n g l i s h a n d A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , U n i v e r s i t y o f E a s t A n g l i a , N o r w i c h N R 4 7 T J , E n g l a n d . 2 A r t i c l e s s h o u l d g e n e r a l l y c o n t a i n a b o u t 5 , 0 0 0 w o r d s . L o n g e r o r s h o r t e r articles, o r articles in t w o o r m o r e p a r t s , m a y be a c c e p t e d b y a r r a n g e m e n t w i t h the E d i t o r s . 3 S u b m i s s i o n o f an article is t a k e n t o i m p l y that it has n o t p r e v i o u s l y b e e n p u b l i s h e d , a n d is n o t b e i n g c o n s i d e r e d for p u b l i c a t i o n e l s e w h e r e . 4 C o n t r i b u t i o n s s h o u l d be c l e a r l y t y p e d in d o u b l e s p a c i n g ( i n c l u d i n g f o o t n o t e s ) , p r e f e r a b l y o n A 4 p a p e r , w i t h a w i d e left-hand m a r g i n . 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U n s o l i c i t e d t y p e s c r i p t s c a n o n l y be r e t u r n e d t o o v e r s e a s c o n t r i b u t o r s w h o s e n d I n t e r n a t i o n a l R e p l y C o u p o n s ( n o t p o s t a g e s t a m p s ) . 14 C o n t r i b u t o r s o f a c c e p t e d articles w i l l b e a s k e d t o a s s i g n their c o p y r i g h t , o n c e r t a i n c o n d i t i o n s , t o C a m b r i d g e U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , to h e l p p r o t e c t their m a t e r i a l , p a r t i c u l a r l y in the U S A . Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 https://www.cambridge.org/core V o l u m e 19 N u m b e r 1 A p r i l 1985 Journal of American Studies M a r g a r e t B o u r k e - W h i t e and the C o m m u n i s t W i t e h H u n t 5 R O B E R T E. S N Y D E R T h e Manassa M a u l e r and the F i g h t i n g M a r i n e : A n Interpretation o f the D e m p s e y - T u n n e y F i g h t s 27 E L L I O T T J. G O R N " T h i s E x c h a n g e o f E p i g r a m s " : C o m m o d i t y and Style in Washington Square 49 I A N F. A. B E L L Gravity's Rainbow: A p o c r y p h a l H i s t o r y o r Historical A p o c r y p h a » 69 D A V I D M A R R I O T T ^ Review Essays T h e T w o R i c h a r d Sennetts 81 T. J. J A C K S O N L E A R S " I n O t h e r W o r d s " : T h e P h i l o s o p h i c a l W r i t i n g s o f R i c h a r d R o r t y 95 R I C H A R D H. K I N G B l a c k Papers 105 J O H N W H I T E Notes and C o m m e n t 1 1 1 Reviews 115 © C a m b r i d g e U n i v e r s i t y Press 1985 Cambridge University Press T h e Pitt B u i l d i n g , T r u m p i n g t o n Street, C a m b r i d g e C B 2 i R P 32 East 57th Street, N e w Y o r k , N Y 10022 10 Stamford R o a d , O a k l e i g h , M e l b o u r n e 3166, A u s t r a l i a Printed in Great Britain by the University Press, Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:21, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800020016 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_upd6klm6zvc7fck7a7svstowku	----	IJYT-2007 Press (interior).pdf INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF YOGA THERAPY – No. 17 (2007) 35 Abstract Yoga has been gaining acceptance in America. This acceptance rests, in large part, on the increase in medical research on Yoga. Despite the benefits of this research, the biomedical approach is often held accountable for America’s de-emphasis on the rich, spiritual dimensions of Yoga. This article reviews the academic literature of the 1800s-1970s to show that America’s focus on Yoga’s health benefits is not new, but has been a part of the ongoing debate on how Yoga should be regarded. Introduction In the last 25 years, there has been a growing interest in research on the medical benefits of Yoga. This research has been invaluable to the acceptance of Yoga in a wide range of settings. However, some individuals hold the relatively recent emphasis on medical research accountable for the de- emphasis on the essential spiritual dimensions of Yoga. This article presents an alternative perspective: that the current focus on biomedical and therapeutic applications of Yoga is not a recent development. It is the expected outcome of America’s long-standing dilemma about how to view Yoga. This article follows Yoga’s presence in academic circles and public discourse from the 1800s through the 1970s in an attempt to answer the question, “How did an ancient East Indian practice of transcending the physical body transform into a significant method to improve the body’s health?” After all, Hatha Yoga is the only branch of Yoga that gives primacy to the body. What about Bhakti Yoga, Jnana Yoga, Tantric Yoga, Karma Yoga, and Raja Yoga? It is tempting to think that the burgeoning interest in biomedical research on Yoga rests solely on Western fascination with the physical body. A review of Yoga’s history in the United States shows something else: the emphasis on Yoga as a practice for im- proving physical health is a way to make sense of and accept a tradition that in many ways runs counter to our essentially Judeo-Christian culture. This position was not only the product of academic thinking; it was encouraged by many vocal practicing Yogis, including teachers from India. Yoga in the 1800s: With Intimacy Comes Controversy Yoga was developed on the Indian sub-continent as a system for increasing physical and mental clarity so as to transcend our limited concepts of self. It is a diverse disci- pline that offers numerous techniques to explore the human experience: physical postures (âsanas), breathing practices (prânâyâma), ethical disciplines (yâmas and niyâmas), chanting, concentration techniques, and meditation. In the 1800s, Yoga made its way from the rigorous shores of East India to the rigors of American higher education. As the two cultures met, issues of identity, religious fidelity, language, social class, and authenticity materialized. Scholars who began the study of India’s spiritual traditions were often left questioning their own religious beliefs and long-held philo- sophical assumptions. Academic Embrace of the Bhagavad Gita One of the first significant English translations of a Hindu text in which Yoga is discussed is Charles Wilkins’ The Yoga Tradition How Did We Get Here? A History of Yoga in America, 1800-1970 Laura Douglass, MA Lesley University (Cambridge, MA) and Hindu University, College of Yoga Sciences (Orlando, FL) YOGA IN AMERICA36 Bhagvat-Geeta.1 With this translation, Sanskrit began to be associated with the intellectual elite in Europe and America. Wilkins, Sir William Jones, and Henry Colebrook trans- formed the study of Sanskrit and East India into a serious hobby for influential intellectual circles. Events sponsored were for limited audiences and required a formal invitation and black-tie dress.2-5 Yoga’s embrace by the elite initiated the process of viewing Yoga as something “worth knowing.” Wilkins’s Bhagvat-Geeta arrived on American shores in 1845, 60 years after its initial publication in England. New England poet and essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson sorely lamented its late arrival.6,7 As one of the founders of Transcendentalism in America, Emerson’s enthusiastic and public embrace of Wilkins’ Bhagvat-Geeta inspired serious inquiry into the texts of Hinduism and Yoga. Emerson, like other intellectual elite of his time, embraced Yoga philosoph- ically. It was his noteworthy student, Henry David Thoreau, who first moved from “knowing about” to “practicing” the discipline of Yoga.8 Thoreaua, author of Walden and Civil Disobedience, stated in a letter to a friend, “Depend upon it that rude and careless as I am, I would fain practice the yoga faithfully…to some extent, and at rare intervals, even I am a yogin.”9(p412) Intimacy and Conflict: Yoga and Christianity Thoreau’s Yoga practice was a challenge to the aca- demic community of a relatively new and predominately Christian nation. American scholars were “tolerant” of and interested in Asian religions, but contemplative prac- tices smacked of infidelity to Christianity. Christians (then and now) genuinely struggled with how their interest in Eastern spiritual practices aligned with their religious ideal of one path to God. While other scholars of East Asia (e.g., Muller, Wilkins, and Colebrook) were sensitive to Christian anxieties, Thoreau ignored them. Thoreau’s ac- tions contradicted the Christian notion of one path to God.10 He blatantly stated that he practiced Yoga, and ea- gerly proclaimed that the Yogic system of understanding the mind was equal to and, at times, superior to Western models. Thoreau’s practice of Yoga led to questions that its academic study alone did not: Does the study and prac- tice of Yoga lead individuals away from Christianity? Can one respect religious pluralism while maintaining one’s Christian faith? The tension between Christianity and Yoga was given profound expression in the works of German-born scholar Max Muller, who was dubbed the “founder of the science of religion” and played a pivotal role in shaping Euro- American Religious Studies during the 1800s.11 Muller’s interpretations of Vedic texts were undoubtedly influential; his popular scholarship, widely read in America through- out the 1800-1900s, alternated between awe and revulsion toward the ancient Hindu scriptures.12 It is difficult to in- terpret his comments regarding the Rg Veda, “hidden in this rubbish are precious stones.”12(p29) Was he writing to appease a Christian audience who had difficulty embracing religious pluralism? Or did he really mean the text was useless de- spite a few well-chosen phrases? Muller’s negative depiction of Hinduism was so disturbing to Hindus in India that his Hibbert Lectures was boycotted; there were rumors that it had been printed with the blood of India’s sacred cows.13 Whether or not Muller’s intentions were racist continues to be a subject of debate.12,14 However, it is probable that this early, negative depiction of Hinduism within academia played a role in the way Yoga has become so strongly di- vorced from its Hindu roots in America. Hindus in the United States and abroad were deeply affected by Christian scholars’ negative attention to the sub- ject of Yoga and Hinduism.b;15,16 Some Hindus converted to Christianity. Others began to re-think and re-position the way religion was situated in their personal and cultural lives. For example, sectarian beliefs were downplayed, and there was a de-emphasis on multiple deities. Sacred texts like the Bhagavad-Gita were emphasized for their practical, uplifting message that readily appealed to the “modern” individual’s struggle. Vivekananda and Changing the Discourse on Yoga By the late 1800s, attempts to reduce tension between religious systems became the work of Yoga practitioners, not academics. In particular, Swami Vivekananda assumed this role. Vivekananda (1863-1902) was as well educated in Western philosophies as in the meditation traditions of his native India. As one of the chief disciples of Ramakrishna with a Western education, Vivekananda was pivotal to shar- ing the wisdom of Yoga with an international audience. a. For a thorough discussion of Yoga and Thoreau, refer to the follow- ing resources: Machane F. Walden and Yoga. The New England Quarterly. 1964;37(33):322-342 and Stein WB. The Hindu matrix of Walden: the king’s son. Comparative Literature. 1970;22(4):303-318. b. Bengali novelist Bankim Chandra Chatterjee (1838-1894) was also vocal regarding the way in which Hinduism and Yoga was depicted as a static religion. His work should be included in the MIA (missing in America) literature review. INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF YOGA THERAPY – No. 17 (2007) 37 Vivekananda is frequently portrayed as “the” individual who first introduced Yoga to American discourse.17,18 This is a slight exaggeration, but perhaps is warranted because of the great popularity of his speech at the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893. His handsome physique, charisma, charm, and mastery of the subject of Yoga were exactly what American intellectuals outside of academia were looking for. He played on the American fascination with the exotic, for example by wearing silk turbans for his lectures—while alleviating many Americans’ fears about re- ligious fidelity. Vivekananda’s success, in part, rested on his unique ability to diffuse tension regarding Yoga’s association with infidelity to Christianity. Framing Yoga as a system that would lead to greater physical health, Vivekananda lib- erated the practice of Yoga from the popular conception that it was a practice primarily for Hindu men (which, of course, it had been). He spoke of Yoga as something ac- cessible to all, and of central value to anyone concerned with health and freedom.19 Understanding Yoga as a sys- tem of health served several purposes: 1) It diffused tension around fidelity to Christianity, 2) It made Yoga a subject accessible to Americans, and 3) It began America’s interest in the health benefits of Yoga that would eventually lead to the abundance of research on Yoga’s medical benefits in the 21st century. Vivekananda’s popularity did not extend to academic circles. He was criticized by academics for his re-interpreta- tion of Yoga. He blended everything from Nyaya, Mimamsa, Christianity, and Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland within a single lecture.20-22 Criticism of ambiguity and blending of East Indian spiritual traditions was nothing new. Thoreau had also been greatly disparaged for his “…wild juxtaposi- tion on incongruous cultural forms as much an assault on aesthetic judgment as on religious fidelity.”9(p404) Academics saw (and in some ways continue to see) Yoga as something static, with clearly defined boundaries of study that are best understood in the context of the specific historical period in which they emerged. This perspective offered invaluable insights, but failed to address the public’s desire to see the study of Yoga as compatible with American religious and intellectual life. While academics criticized practicing Yogis for incon- sistencies and odd juxtapositions, practicing Yogis accused academics of being dry, abstract, and expounding ideas that were not applicable to daily life.c Vivekananda, while highly educated, was not an academic. He stated, “No theories ever made men higher. No amount of books can help us to be- come purer. The only power is in realization, and that lies in ourselves and comes from thinking.”18(p262) Taking the power of knowing out of the hands of academic authority is an oft- repeated axiom of Yoga (and one that gained momentum in the American Yoga community in the 1950s). Vivekananda’s approach of cultural inclusivity was further developed in William Flagg’s 1898 book Yoga for Transformation,23 which offered a chapter each on Egyptian Yoga, Mohammedan Yoga, Christian Yoga, The Roman Stoics as Yogis, Hindu Yoga, and Chinese Yoga. Flagg as- suaged Christian readers’ fears by arguing that there were many different methods to achieve spiritual unity—all of which could be enhanced through the practices of Yoga. His book’s message paralleled Vivekananda’s: Yoga is a discipline to free humanity from its mental constraints and an avenue toward greater physical health. By the end of the 1800s, the choice on how to view Yoga was fairly straightforward: 1) Yoga is a discipline that upsets one’s allegiance to the religion of one’s birth, or 2) Yoga is a system that brings greater physical and mental health. American students of Yoga undoubtedly chose to describe and think of Yoga as a method for improving physical and mental health. This choice made the issue of religious affili- ation irrelevant. It was also a choice espoused by influential Yogis such as Vivekananda. Yoga in America from 1900-1940: Magical or Practical? From the 1900s to the 1940s, Yoga was pulled between contrasting points of view. Academic literature in this time period emphasized Yoga as a discipline heavily linked to magic and the occult, while popular literature of this pe- riod positioned Yoga as an eclectic practice concerned with physical health. Scholars began to understand the psycho- logical themes in Yoga; simultaneously, this psychology was portrayed as substantially inferior to Western analysis. The movement toward and away from Yoga continued: while Yoga offered new ways to think about the human experi- ence, it was also worrisome because it challenged long-held assumptions. c. That Yoga is not an academic subject is heavily promoted by many practicing Yogis of the early 1900s. The most widely published is Yogi Ramacharaka: Ramacharaka Y. A Series of Lessons in Raja Yoga. Chicago: The Yogi Publication Society; 1906; Ramacharaka Y. Hatha Yoga or The Yogi Philosophy of Physical Well-Being. Chicago: Yogi Publicaton Society; 1904; and Ramacharaka Y. Advanced Course in Yogi Philosophy and Oriental Occultism. London: Fowler & Co. LTD.; 1905. YOGA IN AMERICA38 Magic, Kundalini, and Yoga as “Other” For academia in the early 1900s, Yoga was distinctly magical, mystical, and “other.”24-27 Academics de-empha- sized Yoga’s attention to mental obstacles and ethics; instead they chose to focus on its supernatural elements. This choice may have been influenced by the scholars’ choice to study the classical texts of Yoga, with little consideration to the contemporary context and views of Hindus and contempo- rary practicing Yogis. In E.W. Hopkins’ 1901 article “Yoga Techniques in the Great Epic,” published in the Journal of the American Oriental Society, he analyzed the ancient scriptures of Yoga and stressed its exotic and mystical nature. He succinctly stated, “The exercise of Yoga imparts magical powers.”28(p336) The burgeoning interest in Kundalini Yoga throughout the 1920s and 1930s provides another example of how the mystical nature of Yoga was emphasized in America.29,30 Kundalini, a dormant spiritual energy that can be accessed through specific practices of Yoga, is frequently associated with mystical powers. Carl Jung’s The Psychology of Kundalini Yoga, published in 1932, was very influential in bringing this esoteric subject to the forefront of academic thought.31 Attempts to Integrate Western and Eastern Psychology Carl Jung was one of the first well-known Western scholars to seriously examine the psychology inherent in Yogic practices. Jung attempted to make descriptions of Yoga more familiar by drawing comparisons between the West and the East. For example, he made statements like, “Christianity also is based on the suksma [subtle internal en- ergy] aspect.”31(p67) Whether such statements clarified or cre- ated greater confusion and division for Christians struggling to understand Yoga is difficult to know. Work like Jung’s, which attempted to create bridges between these world- views, often raised more questions than it answered. These attempts often failed because they imported Yoga practices into a therapeutic model that was at odds with the original intentions of Yoga. For example, Jung believed that the aim of his work as a psychologist was to “cure souls,” not just the personality.32 Yoga, however, is based on the assumption that our souls (if we can even use this word) are pure, unaffected by our mental distress. While Jung’s work spurred interest in the intersection of Yoga and psychology, many of these early depictions hinged on a Yoga that was illogical and offered little more than a naïve understanding of psychology.33,34 Despite being well-informed and well-meaning, some aca- demics may have accidentally reinforced doubts about Yoga’s ability to offer insight into the human condition. Yoga as Practical Outside of academia, intellectuals were embracing Yoga as a practical discipline with renewed vigor. In 1948, Ernest E. Wood published Practical Yoga, stating, “…I am now promoting the subject of Yoga here [in America], knowing that it is as well adapted to modern life as to the simpler life of ancient India, and believing that it can make the individ- ual stronger and freer and help to promote social harmony and material progress.”35(p23) This kind of unbridled enthu- siasm pervaded the popular literature on Yoga throughout the 1930s and into the 1950s.d;36,37 While these publica- tions popularized the physical practices of Yoga, they also gave great attention to the underlying philosophical system of Samkhya-Yoga. This attention to the philosophical and methodological details of Yoga in the popular literature would lose momentum in the 1960s, and all but cease by the year 2000. By the end of the 1940s, the choice of how to view Yoga was complicated. Was Yoga magical and mystical, or a means to improve health? Without an answer to this ques- tion, those from a Judeo-Christian background had diffi- culty resolving how they should view Yoga. If Yoga could be set up as a practical discipline, this might offer a solution to the tension involving conflicting spiritual points of view. This period in history seemed to be setting the stage for the modern emphasis on Yoga as a discipline for physical and psychological health. “Yoga as practical” untangles the indi- vidual’s practice of Yoga from the debate around its impact on identity. Viewing Yoga through this lens offers almost immediate respite from seeing Yoga as something mystical and exotic—this is something that Hindu practitioners and Yogis alike will emphasize in the literature of the 1950s. Yoga in America in the 1950s Eastern writers began to think of Westerners as part of their audience,38 offering critiques of American interpreta- tions of Yoga in academic journals.39-41 American academ- ics reacted to this by shifting their focus to how Yoga was being practiced within their own society. Americans began using Eastern texts to gain insight into their own Judeo- d. This enthusiasm was no doubt influenced by current, positive interpre- tations of Yogic texts that were circulating in academic circles. INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF YOGA THERAPY – No. 17 (2007) 39 Christian traditions.42,43 The idea of “East” and “West” as monolithic and inseparable categories was beginning to break down. What emerged was a dynamic conversation about the ways in which both cultures mutually benefited from and were challenged by the intimate exchange; this exchange was seen as potential to fuel a deeper understand- ing of the human experience. The interplay between cultures and religious ide- ologies was vigorously explored in the 1958 East-West Philosophers Conference, which met in Honolulu, Hawaii. The Vice President of the East-West Philosophical Society, Radhakrishnan, avowed, “There is no reason to believe that there are fundamental differences between East and West; human beings are everywhere human and their deepest val- ues are similar.”38(p216) Everyone did not share this optimistic view. A conference participant stated, “While no bridges between ideas have yet been built, at least canoes have been fashioned to get from shore to shore.”38 The metaphor of the canoe implies an undertaking that is unsteady at best. Canoes require calm waters and seem an unsteady vessel in which to go from American to Indian shores. During the 1950s, American academics were interested in breaking down obstacles to the study of Yoga. For ex- ample, scholar David White encouraged the layperson, without Sanskrit knowledge, to embrace the “wisdom of the East”44 that was now available in English translations. He encouraged personal exploration to fully grasp what was being conveyed in the texts. White stated, “If one begins by reading the most careful and scholarly translations, he is likely to meet with a dull awkwardness well calculated to convince him that the ‘Wisdom of the Orient’ is much exaggerated.” 44(p247) It was not only Westerners who were breaking down barriers to the study of Yoga. This movement was greatly aided by the circulation of English books on Yoga writ- ten in the voices of its own practitioners: Paramahansa Yogananda,45 Krishnamurti,46 Swami Sivananda,47-51 and Sri Aurobindo.52-55 These East Indian teachers of Yoga were dis- tinctly bi-cultural. They had all been trained and influenced by Western schools and were therefore able to speak directly to the concerns of many Euro-Americans. As Westerners began to seriously study Yoga with these individuals, mis- perceptions of Yoga were broken, and a new generation of American Yoga teachers was born. The bi-cultural individuals (of Eastern and Western origin) who began teaching Yoga in America increased the tension between academic and popular perceptions of Yoga. As Vivekananda had done earlier in the century, these in- dividuals began to question the validity of academic, intel- lectual knowledge. Krishnamurti stated, “The mind escapes into knowledge, into theories, hopes, imagination; and this very knowledge is a hindrance…To know is to be ignorant; not to know is the beginning of wisdom.”56(p207) With more Americans studying Yoga in India, and Indian practitioners of Yoga discouraging “mere” academic study, the stage was being set for a focus on personal and cultural exploration in the 1960s and 1970s. Yoga in America in the 1960s and 1970s: Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll? Tension between those who practiced Yoga and those who taught about Yoga in academia turned to fierce po- larization as Yoga increasingly became associated with sex, drugs, and, yes, even rock and roll. Teachers like Swami Satchidananda and the Maharishi influenced pop stars from Carol King to the Beatles. The popularization of Yoga brought the discipline into mainstream publications and the media. The intersection between popular culture and academic interest contributed to an intense period of aca- demic mayhem in which Yoga moved from a traditional as- sociation with monasticism to an unlikely association with orgies. This American adaptation of Yoga in the 1960s and 1970s shocked some East Indian academics.57 In contrast, some East Indian Yoga teachers saw the youth culture’s de- sire to break free of tradition as a confusing but hopeful era in which a new generation was struggling to embrace new ways of being. Yoga’s Intersection with Drug Culture The movement of Yoga and Eastern consciousness stud- ies from academia to the youth culture is best told in the story of two infamous Harvard psychologists: Dr. Richard Alpert and Dr. Timothy Leary. Both individuals became cul- tural icons known as much for their positive view of drugs as for their involvement with Eastern forms of consciousness.e Leary designed several studies in which he and Alpert ad- ministered LSD to over 300 professors, graduate students, writers, philosophers, and clergymen. The ethical nature of these studies was questioned, as was Alpert’s and Leary’s own use of hallucinogenic drugs. As they became associated with the burgeoning drug culture that began to swirl around Harvard, their dismissal seemed inevitable.58,59 Alpert left e. The reader is referred to the documentary film Fierce Grace for a touch- ing testament to the power of Dass’ life and work. YOGA IN AMERICA40 America to study Buddhist meditation in India. He returned as the practicing Yogi, Ram Dass. Dass helped revolution- ize and publicize new ideas on consciousness with his illus- trated text Be Here Now.60 Students traveled long distances to hear him teach about Yoga, while academics shrank at the thought of American students (and professors!) leaving rationality behind. Dass’s colleague Leary urged the youth of America to “Turn on, tune in, drop out.” Their simultaneous interest in altered states of consciousness and Eastern states of con- sciousness (primarily Yoga) led to Yoga’s gradual association with the blooming drug culture of the 1960s and 1970s. The relationship between Yoga and drugs in America was consummated when Yoga teacher Swami Satchidanada opened the famous music festival “Woodstock” in New York. Woodstock was as well known for its “bad acid” (LSD) as it was for its music. Researchers studying drug use in American youth culture confirmed the relationship between drugs and Yoga. One researcher stated, “Most [LSD cults]…share an interest in various forms of Eastern mysticism, especially Yoga and Zen Buddhism, and interpret the LSD experience as a confirmation of Eastern metaphysics.”61(p319) In an ar- ticle on “deviant behavior,” researchers Clark and Tifft list Yoga, along with alcohol and drugs, as a method of inducing indifference and lack of interest in society.62 Yoga as Recovery of Wholeness By the 1970s, the association of Yoga with sexuality influenced both academics and popular culture. Academic work addressed topics ranging from male sexuality63-66 and the vibrant nature of female energy known as sakti67 to eth- nographies of female saints.68 Embracing sexuality was seen as part of the recovery of our wholeness, and Yoga was a part of this process.69-71 Poet Allen Ginsberg expressed this idea: “It’s an important human experience to relate to your- self and others as a hunk of meat sometimes. That’s one way of losing ego, one holy divine Yoga of losing ego: getting involved in an orgy and being reduced to an anonymous piece of meat, coming and recognizing your own orgiastic anonymity.” 72(p397) Ginsberg’s association of Yoga with a divine, anonymous orgy is an odd juxtaposition of ideas that seems to associate sexual gratification with liberation. Perhaps it more correct to view Yoga in the 1970s as part of a multifaceted package designed to open the doors of perception. The academic literature of the 1970s explored the idea of personal liberation in other ways. There was an academic interest in focusing on Yogis who had found inner freedom despite external systems of oppression, including Sai Baba,73 Muktananada,74 Anandamayi Ma,68 and Sri Aurobindo.75-77 The Yogic concept of the untouched pure spiritual aspect of humanity, or atman, was taken up as a subject with re- newed vigor.29,30 The idea that Yoga might somehow lead us to a more perfect sense of Self was explored. By the end of the 1970s, the focus on the freedom of the Self was trans- formed into what might better be called “self-improvement.” Yoga was positioned as a complement to Western forms of psychology,76,78 a tool to assist in psychological release,79 and a way to stimulate creativity.80 Linking the Past with the Present The image of Yoga as a practical discipline for greater health and vitality gradually led to scholars turning their at- tention to Yoga’s relationship with the body in the 1990s.81-84 This interest has evolved into the current focus on the medi- cal and psychological benefits of Yoga. Courses on Yoga are offered to psychology, nursing, and medical students. Yoga is increasingly viewed as practical, and seems to be increasing- ly spoken of in medical terms. Although this approach has its costs, there are specific benefits to viewing Yoga through the biomedical lens. Yoga’s link with medical benefits solves a whole host of issues that have plagued Yoga’s reputation in America since the early 1800s. No longer does the Yoga practitioner need to concern him- or herself with issues of religious fidelity, occultism, magic, or association with drugs and sex. While these associations may be unique to the his- tory of Yoga in America, they are real concerns that color the way Yoga is viewed. The biomedical approach to Yoga helps cut through these concerns, making Yoga accessible to a wide range of individuals throughout America. A biomedical approach builds on the idea of Yoga as practical, but it does something else: it lends a marginalized practice authenticity and authority. The medical model is America’s gatekeeper. It has sanctioned our culture’s use of practices that emerge from East Indian mystical traditions. It is relatively easy for Americans to understand that a seated forward bend, paschimottânâsana, balances the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous system. It is substantially more difficult to understand that naddhi suddhi balances ida and pingala nadi. Both descriptions are jargon-laden, but the latter challenges our identity in both subtle and overt ways. Sanskrit terms are not only unfamiliar; they also INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF YOGA THERAPY – No. 17 (2007) 41 ask us to understand Yoga’s subtle anatomy which challeng- es fundamental and agreed-upon American conceptions of the body. One of the gifts of studying Yoga is that it gives voice to the subtle aspects of the human experience. I am not deny- ing that many of these subtle aspects cannot be conveyed through biomedical language. However, I am introducing the possibility that Yoga can be as challenging to issues of identity and religious fidelity today as it was in the 1800s. Viewing Yoga as a practical adjunct to our physical well- being appears to be a method of dealing with the complex issues of religious and cultural pluralism that arise when a largely Judeo-Christian culture adopts East Indian practices associated with Hinduism. Whether or not we agree with reframing Yoga in bio- medical language is, practically speaking, irrelevant. It is happening. Accepting Yoga as a practical discipline with specific medical benefits has been a long road. Was it the academic focus on mysticism and the exotic that inspired a return to viewing Yoga as practical? Or was it the popular- ized versions of Yoga as practical that were disseminated by East Indian practitioners of Yoga themselves? This article has reviewed some of the important ways the interplay between academic and popular conceptions of Yoga have gotten us to our current destination. We need to acknowledge how different perspectives contribute to a deeper understanding of Yoga in America. Without these many voices, Yoga’s multifaceted nature may be lost to those who are seeking greater wholeness. Yoga is simply too complex to be dealt with using the knowledge and methodology of a single discipline. A discipline that places more emphasis on quantitative “rigor” in research may offer insight into how Yoga works, but an approach that emphasizes the philosophical or ethical dimensions of Yoga may offer important insights into the human condi- tion. Dialogue between these approaches can remedy the intellectually isolating effects of excessive specialization. How Yoga teachers and therapists approach issues of identity, authenticity, and authority is significant. We are in a unique position to craft new ways of speaking across differences. We must ask: Are we ready to communicate across disciplines? For that matter, are we ready to critically engage with scholars of other faiths, and people of diverse traditions? 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Philosophy East and West. 1973;23(4):507-515. 78. Coward H. Mysticism in the analytical psychology of Carl Jung and the yoga psychology of Patanjali: a comparative study. Philosophy East and West. 1979;29(3):323-336. 79. Upadhya O. On making drawings while practising Rajneesh’s Dhyana yoga. Leonardo. 1976;9(4):308-310. 80. Wegner WH. The creative circle: Stanislavski and yoga. Educational Theatre Journal. 1976;28(1):85-89. 81. Alter JS. The “sannyasi” and the Indian wrestler: the anatomy of a relationship. American Ethnologist. 1992;19(2):317-336. 82. White DG. The Alchemical Body: Siddha Tradition in Medieval India. Chicago: University of Chicago Press;1996. 83. Rani NJ, Rao PVK. Body awareness and yoga training. Perceptual & Motor Skills. 1994;79(3):1103. 84. Morris K. Meditating on yogic science. Lancet. 1998; 351(9108):1038. Direct correspondence to Laura Douglass at Laura Douglass at sevika@ yogapsychology.org.” 
work_upz2uheplfcsrkkb2ljrxstsxu	----	AMS volume 25 issue 3 Cover and Back matter THE AMERICAN INDIAN PAST AND PRESENT Fourth Edition Roger L. Nichols For more information, please contact your local McGraw-Hill representative or write: McGraw-Hill College Division, Comp Processing and Control, P.O.Box 441, Hightstown, NJ 08520-0441. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core O R D E A L BY F I R E THE CIVIL WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION, 2/e JarneS MTMcPherson T H E A M E R I C A N S O U T H A HISTORY William J. Cooper, Jr., Thomas g.Terrill (Available in Single Volume Editions, or Splits) THE AMERICAN ENVIRONMENT READINGS IN CONSERVATION HISTORY, 3 / E Roderick Frazier Nash FROM SLAVERY TO FREEDOM A HISTORY OF NEGRO AMERICANS, 6/E John Hope Fraafclin; Alfred A. Moss, Jr. G E N E R A T I O N S YOUR FAMILY IN MODERN HSTORY, 3/E J.F. Watts and Allen F. Davis T H E M A N H A T T A N P R O J E C T A DOCUMENTARY INTRODUCTION TO THE ATOMIC A G E Michael B. Stoff RUNNING FOB FREEDOM Ova. RIGHTS AND BLACK POLITICS I N AMERICA Steven F. Lawson W O M E N AND T H E AMERICAN EXPERIENCE, 2/e Nancy Woloch MODERN AMERICAN PROSE A READER FOR WRITERS, 2/E John Clifford and Robert Diyanni VOICES AND VISIONS THE POET m AMERICA HelenVendler For more information, please contact your local McGraw-Hill representative or write: McGraw-Hill College Division, Comp Processing and Control, P.O.Box 441, Hightstown, NJ 08520-0441. terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core WfLLIAM BRADFORD/OF PLYMOUTH PLANTATION * FREDERICK D O U G L A S S / T H E N A R R A T I V E AMD S E L E C T E D W R I T I N G S * F R E D &£, L E XI '•* N A T H A N I E L H A W T H O R N c / T H E S C A R L E T L E T T E R A N D ABS/ CRAi EM E l THO>1 LEA\ THE F R E l » AL BENJ B R A * TBAC SCAli SRViN LU.UM.UMIU.UI of The Modern Library College Editions, an outstanding collection of important political, historical, and literary works. Specially priced for the student budget, The Modern Library College Editions feature important introductions to each work written by eminent scholars. Authors represented include Nathaniel Hawthorne, Louisa May Alcott, Benjamin Franklin, Frederick Douglass, Walt Whitman, William Faulkner, and Eugene O'Neill. For further information on the series, contact your local McGraw-Hill sales professional. WiLtJ FAULf IN AUGUST - STEPHEN CRANE/THE RED BADC RALPH WALDO EMERSON/THE SELECTED Wl V- PHEN KIDC IAV1G INEIU n THE I S . S •/THE iTON TTLE terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core ARMY SURVEILLANCE IN AMERICA, 1775-1980 ]OAN M. JENSEN The first comprehensive history of military surveillance in the United States, this book traces the evolution of America's internal security policy, from its beginnings at the time of Benedict Arnold's betrayal of West Point to the surveillance of and violence against protesters during the Vietnam War. Joan M. Jensen discusses the federal government's use of army intervention in domestic crises and how Americans have protested the violation of civil liberties and have applied political pressure to limit military involvement in civil disputes. 328pp. £19.95 DIVIDED WE GOVERN Party Control, Lawmaking, and Investigations, 1946-1990 DAVID R. MAYHEW Conventional wisdom has assumed that the American national government functions more effectively when one political party controls the presidency and the two houses of Congress. Yet divided governments of Republican presidents and Democratic Congresses, such as those of the Reagan and Bush administrations, are increasingly the norm. In the first systematic analysis of this trend, David R. Mayhew asks if this should be an issue for public concern. 192pp. £17.95 THE POLITICS OF DEFENSE CONTRACTING KENNETH R. MAYER Is the United States' defence budget really just a huge pork barrel project ? Drawing on previously unavailable data on recent defence contracts, Kenneth R. Mayer demolishes the myths that have long surrounded defence politics and spending and proves that the politics of defence spending are relatively benign and that the military-industrial complex is relatively weak. 240pp. £16.95 WRITING IN THE NEW NATION Prose, Print, and Politics in the Early United States LARZER Z1FF In this engrossing book a well-known commentator on American literature and intellectual history examines the relationship of literature to society during the formative years of the American republic. Discussing novels, personal narratives, travel accounts, and natural histories, Larzer Ziff shows how these works both shaped and were shaped by the culture of the period. 224pp. £16.95 CONCEPTS OF FREE LABOR IN ANTEBELLUM AMERICA JONATHAN A. GL1CKSTE1N In a major contribution to American labour and intellectual history, Glickstein investigates how Americans from all walks of life viewed the meaning of manual labour in the decades before the Civil War, focusing on the way attitudes were influenced by sectional conflict over black slave labour and by the growing tide of industrialization. 512pp. £32.00 SECRET RITUAL AND MANHOOD IN VICTORIAN AMERICA MARK C. CARNES "The breadth and thoroughness of this book is impressive. Carnes draws on the literature of the time, religious history and theology, child rearing and develop- mental psychology, women's history and gender studies, and structural and cultural anthropology." — Literary Review 296pp. Wus. New in Paper, £9.50 YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS 23 Pond Street, London NW3 2PN terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core LOUISIANA STATE UNIVERSITY PRESS Academic & University Publishers Group, 1 Gotver Street, LONDON WC1E 6HA Theorizing American Literature Hegel, the Sign, and History Edited by Bainard Cowan and Joseph G. Kronick 320pp, £22.50hb Erskine Caldwell and the Fiction of Poverty The Flesh and the Spirit Sylvia Jenkins Cook 336pp, £35.65hb, £12.95pb The Cosmopolitan World of Henry James An Intertextual Study Adeline R. Tintner illus., 352pp, £37.95hb, £15.95pb new in paper Wallace Stevens A Poet's Growth George S. Lensing 313pp,£8.45pb The Clairvoyant Eye The Poetry and Poetics of Wallace Stevens Joseph N. Riddel With a new postscript by the author 308pp,£10.40pb The Inverted Bell Modernism and the Counterpoetics of William Carlos Williams Joseph N. Riddel with a new afterword by the author 308pp,£10.40pb The Civil War Memoirs of Captain William J. Seymour Reminiscences of a Louisiana Tiger Edited by Terry L. Jones illus., 184pp,£18.95hb Lincoln, the South, and Slavery The Political Dimension Robert W. Johannsen 144pp,£18.95hb At Freedom's Edge Black Mobility and the Southern White Quest for Racial Control, 1861-1915 William Cohen 344pp, £40.40hb, £16.1 Opb Seedtime for the Modern Civil Rights Movement The President's Committee on Fair Employment Practice 1941-1946 Merl E. Reed 344pp, £37.95hb, £16.10pb new in paper Black, White, and Southern Race Relations and Southern Culture, 1940 to the Present David R. Goldfield illus., 314pp, £12.30pb Back Door to Richmond The Bermuda Hundred Campaign, April-June 1864 William Glenn Robertson illus., 284pp, £8.45pb The World of Marcus Garvey Race and Class in Modern Society Judith Stein 294pp, £8.45pb terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core AMERICAN STUDIES We the People Volume 1: Foundations Bruce Ackerman Ackerman offers a reinterpretation of America's constitutional experi- ence. Integrating themes from history, political science, and philosophy, We the People confronts the past, present and future of popular soverignty in America. 1991 384pp. 0-674-94840-8 £19,95/329.95 Struggles for Justice Social Responsibility and the Liberal State AlanDawley In this powerful interpretation of modern America, prize winning historian Alan Dawley traces the inner struggles of the nation's rise to power. Probing the dynamics of social change, his focus is the incompatibility between modern society and the existing liberal state. No mere chronology of events, the story charts all efforts - radical, progressive, managerial, social - to align the state more closely with social realities. 1991 16halftones,4tables, 568pp. 0-674-84580-3 £22.25/333.5 Harvard University 14 Bloomsbury Square London WC1A 2LP Off Center Power and Culture Relations Between Japan and the United States MasaoMiyoshi In this provocative study Masao Miyoshi adopts an off-centre perspective to investigate the blindness that has characterised relations between these two cultures. Using literature as his basis he ranges across culture, politics and economics, including: the fiction of Tanizaki, Mishima, Oe; trade negotiations, Japan and American bashing; Emperor worship, and Japanese feminist writing. 1991 288pp 0-674-63175-7 £22.25/$33.50 IwoJima Monuments, Memories, and the American Hero Karal Ann Marling and JohnWetenhall With passion and meticulous care the authors illuminate the ironies and misconceptions that prolifer- ated around the Iwo Jima flag- raisings. 1991 131 halftones,4lineillus. 312pp. 0-674-46980-1 £19.95/329.95 Dictionary of American Regional English Volume II: D-H Frederic G. Cassidy, Chief Editor Representing an unprecedented attempt to document the living language of America, Volume II contains more than 11,000 entries, capturing the variety and creative- ness of folk words, vernacular and idiosynchratic expressions. 1991 606maps 1192pp. 0-674-20512-X £47.95/371.95 (until 2/29/92) £55.95/383.95 thereafter terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S FOR C O N T R I B U T O R S 1 All contributions and editorial correspondence should be sent to: The Editor, Journal of American Studies, History Department, Lancaster University, Lancaster LAi 4YG, England. 2 Articles should generally contain about 5,000 words. Longer or shorter articles, or articles in two or more parts, may be accepted by arrangement with the Editors. 3 Submission of an article is taken to imply that it has not previously been published, and is not being considered for publication elsewhere. 4 Contributions should be clearly typed in double spacing (including footnotes), preferably on A4 paper, with a wide left-hand margin. Diagrams, maps and illustrations may be included. 5 Spelling may conform either to British or American usage, providing it is consistent throughout. 6 Footnotes should be used sparingly: in general, to give sources of direct quotations, references to main authorities on disputable questions, and evidence relied on for a new or unusual conclusion. They should be numbered consecutively, and may most conveniently be placed, in double spacing, at the end of the article. 7 For guidance on matters of style, contributors should refer either to The Chicago Manual of Style (13th edition, 1982) or to the Journal of American Studies Style Notes, copies of which may be obtained from the Editors. 8 Contributors should keep one copy of the typescript for correcting proofs. 9 Notes intended for the Editors or Printer should be on a separate sheet. I o First proofs may be read and corrected by contributors provided that they can give the Editor an address through which they can be reached without delay and can guarantee to return the corrected proofs to the Editor, by airmail where necessary, within three days of receiving them. I1 Corrections should be kept to an absolute minimum. They should be confined to errors of the typist or printer unless the Editor authorizes otherwise. 12 Contributors of articles and review essays receive 2 5 free offprints. Extra copies may be ordered according to a scale of charges. 13 Contributors need not be members of the British Association for American Studies. Unsolicited typescripts can only be returned to overseas contributors who send International Reply Coupons (not postage stamps). 14 Contributors of accepted articles will be asked to assign their copyright, on certain conditions, to Cambridge University Press, to help protect their material, particularly in the USA. Books for review should be sent as follows: History, Political Science and Social Studies to Dr Michael Heale, Department of History, Furness College, Lancaster University, Bailrigg, Lancaster LAi 4YG. Literature, the Fine Arts and other books to Professor Richard Gray, Department of Literature, University of Essex, Wivenhoe Park, Colchester CO4 }SQ, England.terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core Continued from back cover The Vanishing American: Hollywood's Compromise to Indian Reform 467 ANGELA ALEISS State of the Art The Jewish Immigrant Experience 473 GERT BUELENS Reviews 481 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core Volume 25 Number 3 December 1991 Journal of American Studies Editorial Statement 3 31 Saving Saukenuk: H o w Black H a w k W o n the War and O p e n e d the Way to Ethnic Semiotics 333 WILLIAM BOELHOWER Ethnos and the Beat Poets 363 STEVE HARNEY Recounting the Fables of Savagery: Native Infanticide and the Functions of Political Myth 381 DAVID E. STANNARD Politics in an American Lifeboat: The Case of Loatian Immigrants 419 JOHN C. HARLES Cosmopolitanism, Ethnicity and American Identity: Randolph Bourne's "Trans-National America" 443 LESLIE J. VAUGHAN Notes and Comment A Machine out of Order: Indifferentiation in David Mamet's The Disappearance of the Jews 461 J. A. NELSON Continued inside back cover © Cambridge University Press 1991 Cambridge University Press The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge CB2 iRP 40 West 20th Street, New York, NY 10011-4211, USA 10 Stamford Road, Oakleigh, Victoria 3166, Australia Printed in Great Britain by the University Press, Cambridge terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:18, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800034228 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_v2rltc2jarad5iluwotbbwency	----	JME310557.qxd http://jme.sagepub.com/ Education Journal of Management http://jme.sagepub.com/content/33/1/99 The online version of this article can be found at: DOI: 10.1177/1052562907310557 November 2007 2009 33: 99 originally published online 30Journal of Management Education Joy E. Beatty, Jennifer S. A. Leigh and Kathy Lund Dean Teaching Philosophies, Educational Philosophies, and Philosophy Philosophy Rediscovered : Exploring the Connections Between Published by: http://www.sagepublications.com On behalf of: OBTS Teaching Society for Management Educators can be found at:Journal of Management EducationAdditional services and information for http://jme.sagepub.com/cgi/alertsEmail Alerts: http://jme.sagepub.com/subscriptionsSubscriptions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.navReprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.navPermissions: http://jme.sagepub.com/content/33/1/99.refs.htmlCitations: by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ http://jme.sagepub.com/content/33/1/99 http://www.sagepublications.com http://www.obts.org/ http://jme.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts http://jme.sagepub.com/subscriptions http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav http://jme.sagepub.com/content/33/1/99.refs.html http://jme.sagepub.com/ Journal of Management Education Volume 33 Number 1 February 2009 99-114 © 2009 Organizational Behavior Teaching Society 10.1177/1052562907310557 http://jme.sagepub.com hosted at http://online.sagepub.com 99 Philosophy Rediscovered Exploring the Connections Between Teaching Philosophies, Educational Philosophies, and Philosophy Joy E. Beatty University of Michigan–Dearborn Jennifer S. A. Leigh Gettysburg College Kathy Lund Dean Idaho State University Teaching philosophy statements reflect our personal values, connect us to those with shared values in the larger teaching community, and inform our classroom practices. In this article, we explore the often-overlooked foundations of teach- ing philosophies, specifically philosophy and historical educational philoso- phies. We review three elements of pure philosophy and five seminal educational philosophies to help readers ground their personal philosophies in both a theoretical and historical context. We illustrate how core elements of one’s teaching philosophy can influence course design and the classroom envi- ronment. We suggest that teachers can develop greater authenticity in the class- room by deepening their understanding of their own philosophical ideas and beliefs. Keywords: teaching philosophy; educational philosophy; philosophy; per- sonal development; authenticity; foundations The connection between philosophy, philosophy of education, and the work of a teacher has not always been recognized. One of the most hopeful signs, however, in the field of education today, is the growing conviction that every teacher needs a carefully formulated and intelligently criticized philosophy Authors’ Note: The authors acknowledge helpful discussions with Thomas Hawk and con- structive feedback and support from editor Susan Herman. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Joy E. Beatty, University of Michigan–Dearborn, 19000 Hubbard Drive FCS B-29, Dearborn, MI 48126; e-mail: jebeatty@umd.umich.edu. by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ 100 Journal of Management Education of education and that this philosophy of education must be rooted in philos- ophy itself. Van Petten Henderson, 1947, p. vii A statement of teaching philosophy is a narrative description of one’s con- ception of teaching, including the rationale for one’s teaching methods. It is seen as a place to voice holistic views of the teaching process, including one’s thoughts about the definitions and interaction between learning and teaching, perceptions of the teacher’s and student’s role, and goals and values of educa- tion (Chism, 1997-1998; Goodyear & Allchin, 1998). Many teachers are encouraged to draft their first formal teaching philosophy statement for func- tional reasons, as part of their teaching portfolio. Teaching philosophy state- ments therefore play an important role in initial job searches as well as promotion and tenure (Edgerton, Hutchings, & Quinlan, 1991; Seldin, 1997). Beyond such instrumental benefits, teaching philosophy statements are also a tool to promote teachers’ ongoing personal development. The process of reflection required to create and periodically revise a statement is as impor- tant as, and sometimes more important than, the actual content of the end- product statement because it promotes self-awareness. Good teaching comes from the identity and integrity of the teacher and one’s ability to make these present in the classroom (Palmer, 1997). Over time, our teaching styles may become overlearned and automatic, allowing us to practice them without con- scious thought (Jarvis, 1992). Engaging in a formal reflection process about our philosophy allows us to remain mindful of our beliefs (Brookfield, 1995; Schön, 1983). As Ramsey and Fitzgibbons (2005) explain, Who we are, what we believe, and what assumptions we hold about students, the material, and the world significantly affect what we do in the classroom, no matter the course content or teaching style. This recognition provides the major impetus continually to question and rethink who we are in the world and what we want our relationship with students and the subject matter to be. (p. 345) The theoretical underpinning of philosophy is often overlooked when teachers draft their personal teaching philosophies. The most common approaches to writing a teaching philosophy offer descriptive lists of ques- tions regarding one’s beliefs about students, the role of the teacher, and the outcomes of higher education (for seminal examples, see those by Chism, 1997-1998, and Goodyear & Allchin, 1998). Yet as Pratt (2005) points out, “A philosophy of teaching statement should reveal the deeper structures and values that give meaning and justification to an approach to teaching” (p. 32). by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ Any teaching philosophy may meet functional goals, but a more meaningful developmental teaching philosophy should be rigorous and well-grounded—as noted above in our opening quote from Van Petten Henderson. The opening quote was taken from a book on educational philosophies published in 1947 (notably not recent), and we included it as an aspirational goal for manage- ment educators. Our personal experiences drafting our own teaching philoso- phies and discussions with colleagues suggest there is ongoing opportunity for deeper development of one’s teaching philosophy. Van Petten Henderson’s quote offers a roadmap for developing a more rigorous and grounded teach- ing philosophy which entails grounding one’s teaching philosophy in “phi- losophy itself,” meaning the larger theoretical frameworks in general philosophy and historical educational philosophies. Following this roadmap, our inquiry in this article focuses on the “philos- ophy” part of teaching philosophy statements. Philosophy is a highly abstract concept which can seem distant and perhaps irrelevant to our daily concerns of teaching, yet we believe a greater understanding of the philosophical foun- dations of teaching philosophies offers practical benefits. Specifically, under- standing elements of philosophy and the kinds of questions pure philosophy addresses is helpful for thinking more deeply about one’s personal teaching beliefs. Understanding educational philosophies allows one to consider his or her teaching practice within the larger community of teachers, providing context and perspective. Because teachers enact their own ideas and beliefs about teaching in their daily practice, their differences in philosophical beliefs lead to differences in classroom practice. The process of explicitly naming these ideas and concepts makes visible philosophical choices that were for- merly taken for granted. Our goal in this article is to rediscover the philosophy in teaching philoso- phies, to illustrate the practical implications of teaching philosophies, and to explain why it is useful for teachers to reflect on their own teaching philoso- phies. We begin by discussing some concepts from basic philosophy, followed by a review of the major educational philosophies which highlights the con- nections with basic philosophy. We conclude with comments on the benefits of mindfully choosing and attending to one’s teaching philosophy. This theo- retical background supports a card sort exercise (see Beatty, Leigh, & Lund Dean [this issue]) designed to facilitate reflection on the educational and philo- sophical roots of personal teaching philosophies. Reclaiming the “Philosophy” in Teaching Philosophies Educators face philosophical questions about the nature of knowledge, edu- cation, schooling, and the methods by which schooling should occur: What is Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 101 by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ real? How do I know? What is worthy and what do I value? Although these questions may not be directly addressed in the classroom, teachers’ beliefs and views on these questions form critical scaffolding for the teaching and learning experiences they create in the classroom. The field of philosophy has well-developed concepts for discussing these kinds of questions which pro- vide a critical framework for examining our teaching beliefs. In this section, we present three of them: metaphysics, epistemology, and axiology. What is real? Metaphysics examines the nature of ultimate reality. It offers views on the causes of events in the universe (cosmology), the nature of human beings (anthropology), the nature of divinity (theology), and the meaning of existence (ontology). For example, questions such as “Does order exist in the universe, or do humans create it?” “Who am I?” and “What am I?” (McKenna, 1995) are metaphysical ones. Is the world absolute and permanent, abstract and spiritual, or subjective and changing? A key learning goal in management education is to help students under- stand the perceptually based and constructed nature of “reality.” Thus, our views of metaphysics (along with those of textbook writers and curriculum committee members) will necessarily shape the content and methods of our teaching. We may convey that reality is objectively real or subjective and socially constructed; both views represent a metaphysical stance. If we con- vey the view that reality is subjective, we are enacting a metaphysics that is consistent with the educational philosophies of pragmatism, existentialism, and critical theory; in contrast, this view is at odds with the metaphysics of realism and idealism, which portray reality in more objective terms. We will discuss connections with educational philosophies in more detail later in this article. Our view of human nature, which is a metaphysical belief, shapes our view of education. Do we believe human nature has been constant throughout time and that proper knowledge is therefore timeless, or do we believe that human nature and basic problems change over time? Do we believe that people are inherently good and altruistic, or operating primarily from self-interest? The dilemma of free choice versus causality is also a metaphysical question commonly addressed in discussions of agency versus structure (McKenna, 1995). This idea might show up in our course design, for example, in the amount of order and structure teachers provide for a class and their expectations that students conform to the structure. It could show up in the causal explanations and solutions we offer about the busi- ness and social issues we discuss in class, for example, if we believe problems are caused more by social structures or individual agency. It 102 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ could also affect our explanations of self-assessment instruments our students take, such as Rotter’s (1966) Locus of Control scale. How do I know what I know? The second philosophical concept is epis- temology, which literally means a theory or explanation of knowledge. It focuses on the origin, structure, and validity of knowledge (McKenna, 1995) or how we know what we know. Information can come from others such as parents and teachers or from personal sources such as reason and sensory experience. A seminal work by Hessong and Weeks (1991) suggests there are five ways of knowing: (a) by revelation from God; (b) by authority from an expert; (c) by the individual’s reasoning; (d) by the individual’s sensory perception; and (e) by the individual’s intuition. Note that epistemology is the most well-known term, and some writers use it to represent both meta- physical and epistemological ideas. Epistemological questions influence our teaching methods in critical ways. For example, do we teach scientific methods or use Holy texts to find knowledge? Do we encourage or discourage the use of intuition? What are our beliefs about the validity of knowledge from external authorities versus knowledge from the individual? The choices we make about our assign- ments, tests, and course design are epistemological statements. For example, research articles are based on a rational-analytic, positivist epistemology; case analyses demonstrate a greater tolerance for ambiguity and multiple sources of data; and personal reflection work which encourages the use of “I” honors an individualized epistemology. Multiple choice tests suggest there is one right answer, often the one put forth by the textbook or the teacher. Writing assignments which require application to a student’s per- sonal life imply that knowledge is more contextual and subjective. The use of teams and class discussion suggests that other people are a valid source of knowledge. One place teachers demonstrate their epistemological beliefs is in the standards of evidence they require on research assignments. Some teachers specifically require students to reference only academic articles, whereas others allow trade publications, Web searches, or the use of community- generated documents such as Wikipedia. Critics argue that Wikipedia does not count as “expert” knowledge; because content can be edited by anyone with Internet access, it lacks the formal peer review process in which recog- nized academic “experts” serve as gatekeepers to publication, protecting the dissemination of fallacies. They further argue that the process of open access devalues the notion of expertise itself (Read, 2006). This is an epistemolog- ical debate on the validity of sources of knowledge. Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 103 by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ What are worthy as the right criteria for judgment? The third philosophi- cal concept is axiology, which addresses the nature of value, covering both ethics and aesthetics. The term is derived from the Greek word for “worthy,” and this branch focuses on how we evaluate choices. The major ethical frameworks covered in axiology are probably familiar to most management educators because they are often included in textbook sections on ethics. They are utilitarian ethics, justice ethics, virtue ethics, and care ethics. The first three frames assume rationality, universal criteria, and autonomy of the individual. In contrast, the ethic of care is contextual, nonuniversal, and relational. Our values can appear in the content materials of the course, such as the selection of cases and reading materials. Our views on morality, values, and right action, including whether and how these concepts should be taught, will shape our approach to teaching. In the classroom, we may be uncom- fortable with explicitly addressing values issues, believing our role is to present only “the facts” and allow students to create their own moral code. We may alternatively believe in offering more information and assistance in creating ethical students. Indeed, business schools are under increasing scrutiny to explicitly address the ethical training of our students. The literature on academic service learning provides an example of an axi- ological debate in management education. Some scholars such as Godfrey (1999) believe service learning is a moral project addressing social justice which helps “the private sector maintain the moral authority to set the social agenda” (p. 376), and it should be explicitly presented as such to students. Others such as Kenworthy-U’Ren (1999) advocate an “exposure-and- understanding” approach that explicitly avoids the social justice framing and allows students to reach their own value positions on service, social justice, and the role of business in society. Their debate is not about whether values should be discussed explicitly; after all, both are presenting strongly held val- ues-based positions. Rather, we suggest they are presenting contrasting value systems which reflect their personal teaching philosophies. Because their debate has been published, other management educators can reflect on and gain insight into their own values position on service learning. This example illustrates a major community benefit of making elements of one’s teaching philosophy public and open for discussion. Values also appear in aesthetics, which studies sensory experience and feel- ings aroused by these experiences. Steve Taylor (personal communication, July 18, 2006) discusses the relation to aesthetics in teaching when he writes: It is always an aesthetic choice for a teacher as to what they really value—is good critical thinking beautiful? Is being the sage on the stage and having the 104 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ students applaud at the end of your lecture beautiful? Or is it the sublime expe- rience of having a student realize something important about themselves that does it for you? These are fundamentally values that are aesthetic differences. Teachers who value aesthetics encourage learning through a variety of sen- sual experiences, using techniques that evoke different visual, auditory, and affective experiences rather than traditional teaching methods. For example, they may incorporate art and drawing, music, and performances of skits and plays to evoke learning through sensual experiences. The three conceptual areas from philosophy presented here are challeng- ing because they are highly abstract. Thinking about these and determining one’s own stance on these questions can be difficult and is likely an ongoing developmental journey that occurs over the course of one’s career. Additional resources to spur this development are available in the education literature, which contains the established philosophies of education. How have others answered these questions over time? The traditional philosophies offer frameworks demonstrating different “answers” to the abstract metaphysical, epistemological, and axiological questions. We discuss these educational philosophies in the next section. Shared Educational Philosophies The literature on teaching philosophies suggests that they are eminently personal, a reflection of the individual teacher’s identity. However, the liter- ature overlooks the importance of shared foundations: The building blocks for these personal statements are drawn from the lexicon of basic educa- tional philosophies, which are shared among the community of teachers. Teaching philosophies are rarely discussed in our daily practice, so this “sharing” occurs implicitly. When we do discuss them, there is a tendency to resort to a convenient shorthand or set of buzzwords, as if everyone knows what “a student centered community of learners” means and shares the same definition. Yet meanings can vary widely among individual teachers. The culture of teaching practice has become, paradoxically, both more diverse and more shared. Awareness of diverse teaching and learning meth- ods is increasing as schools focus on the scholarship of teaching and learn- ing (Boyer, 1990), and an increasing number of pedagogy publications are available to disseminate teaching knowledge. Challenges to a traditional lecture model or “sage on a stage” paradigm are widespread (e.g., The Organizational Behavior Teaching Conference) and have fundamentally altered the culture Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 105 by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ surrounding innovative and effective teaching. But as approaches to teach- ing have become more diverse, it seems the language underpinning and sus- taining them has struggled to maintain its shared communal meaning. Furthermore, normative beliefs about teaching methods vary across disci- plines (Donald, 1995; Murray & Renaud, 1995). Terms from the lexicon may be invoked without an understanding of their relationship to traditional educational philosophies and the connections with and among other terms in that lexicon. Thus, the details that come from deeper familiarity with the philosophy may be forgotten over time. To illustrate how terms become disconnected from their historical context, consider the idea of “Teaching the Whole Person” which was the theme of the Organizational Behavior Teaching Conference in 2005. In the present era, the term “whole person” begs the question: “whole” as opposed to what? Looking at the history of this concept reveals an interesting controversy in educational philosophy regarding the goals of education. The whole person concept is derived from the whole child movement and the rise of progressivism, which occurred after 1918. In that year, the National Education Association issued an influential bulletin titled Cardinal Principles of Secondary Education outlining the goals of education. It focused on “complete living” and life adjustment and offered a wide interpretation of children’s needs in education, including rational thinking and the understanding of science, health, family life, ethics, the rights and duties of democratic citizenry, and wise consumer behavior and use of leisure. It advocated social, psychological, vocational, moral, and civic goals for education, in addition to traditional cognitive ones (Ornstein & Levine, 1997, p. 424). This philosophical position does not sound all that controversial in today’s world, but at the time it was a statement against the prevailing ide- ology. Whole child was developed as a response and reaction to the “mental discipline” approach, which dominated American education from the late 1800s. The mental discipline approach argues that the mind is strengthened through mental activities. Traditional subjects such as Latin, Greek, math, and physics were valued for their cultivation of the intellect. The more dif- ficult the subject was to learn, the more valuable it was as exercise for the mind. This approach created a curriculum hierarchy focused on academics and college preparation, but the social and psychological concerns of the learner were largely ignored (Ornstein & Levine, 1997). This example illus- trates how a phrase such as “Teaching the Whole Person” has a specific his- torical meaning. Understanding its context allows us to be better informed about its contemporary usage. In a similar way to this “whole person” example, establishing connections between one’s personal teaching philosophy and traditional educational 106 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ philosophies builds an understanding of the ancestry and lineage of one’s beliefs which we believe contributes to personal development. To explore the larger context of educational philosophies, we offer a brief overview of five major educational philosophies using the elements of philosophy presented earlier in this article (see Table 1). In chronological order, the philosophies are idealism, realism, pragmatism, existentialism, and critical theory. As used here, philosophies refer to “complete bodies of thought that present a world- view of which education is a part” (Ornstein & Levine, 1997, p. 383). They provide the foundation or “roots” for different educational theories. These descriptions are brief, offering broad classifications that emphasize distinctions between these philosophies and deemphasize the interconnect- edness inherent in these ideas. Although we have covered the major schools, there are others we have not covered such as phenomenological, hermeneu- tic, interpretive, and postmodern philosophies. We encourage readers to pur- sue a more extensive review of those educational philosophies that interest them. We recommend texts dedicated to teaching philosophies such as Blake, Smeyers, Smith, and Standish (2003) or McKenna (1995). Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 107 Table 1 Elements of Philosophies of Education Philosophy Metaphysics Epistemology Axiology Idealism Reality is spiritual or Knowing is the Values are absolute and mental and rethinking of latent eternal unchanging ideas Realism Reality is objective, Knowing consists of Values are absolute and fixed, and is sensation and eternal based on composed of matter abstraction natural law and form Pragmatism Reality is the interaction Knowing results from Values are situational or of an individual with experience and use relative environment or of scientific method experience; always changing Existentialism Reality is subjective Knowing is to make Values should be freely personal choices chosen Critical theory Reality is politically, Knowing comes from Values are constructed in socially, and critical analysis of terms of power economically conflicts in society constructed Credit: Ornstein, Alan C. and Daniel U. Levine, Foundations of Education, Sixth Edition. Copyright 1997 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Used with permission. by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ Idealism. This philosophy is considered to be one of the oldest and can be traced back to Plato. Idealist philosophers include Descartes, Georg Hegel, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and, more recently, the 20th century work of J. Donaldson Butler and Herman H. Horne. The main concerns for idealists are primarily metaphysical, focusing on “eter- nal concepts” like truth and honor. Idealists emphasize the “reality of the mind”—that the mental and spiri- tual are real—and see the universe as an expression of a universal mind. For their epistemology, idealists believe that ideas are latent in the mind, perma- nent and orderly; ideas are absolute and both prior to and independent of experience. Therefore, idealists draw on intuition, revelation, and rational- ism to develop knowledge. Idealists believe that when individuals examine their own mind, they discover a copy of the universal mind. The goal of an education informed by idealism is to help students discover this underlying knowledge, thus providing a broad and unified perspective of the universe. Idealist axiology suggests enduring values that are unchanging and univer- sal. Ethical conduct should mirror these enduring and permanent values. Instructors who have this perspective often expose students to the classics that have endured over time, such as Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Realism. Aristotle, Plato’s pupil, founded this school of philosophy which is considered to be a reaction to idealism. Specifically, realism acknowledges the existence of the sensory world (e.g., Plato’s cave and the fire) in its own right separate from our conception of it (e.g., Plato’s privileging of the shadow). Other realist philosophers include Thomas Aquinas, Francis Bacon, John Locke, and Alfred North Whitehead. Realists’ metaphysics stress objec- tive knowledge and values that exist independent of the mind of the knower. Realists believe that every object is composed of matter which can be sensed. Their epistemology offers that knowing is based on sensory data, which the mind then abstracts and classifies, for instance in the creation of typologies. An important distinction between idealism and realism in their approach toward “truth” is that realists believe people can observe these laws from their study of reality, as opposed to their minds. The axiology of realism is the development of values based on natural laws, which are eternal and univer- sal. Like idealism, realism emphasizes eternal knowledge as guiding the education process. Teachers with realist philosophies will focus on subject- matter disciplines often in the natural and social sciences. Pragmatism. This philosophy is considered the United State’s contribution to philosophical thought. Pragmatism, also referred to as experimentalism and 108 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ instrumentalism, grew from a frustration with older philosophical systems that focused on absolutes. In contrast, the thinking of pragmatists like Charles Peirce, William James, George Herbert Mead, and John Dewey was informed by empirical science, the rapid social and cultural changes and their associated problems in the late 19th century, and nature. In the metaphysics of pragma- tism, reality is constructed through transactional experiences where humans interact with the environment, which is constantly changing. For its episte- mology, one knows things by examining his or her experience interacting with the environment. Therefore pragmatists believe knowledge is subject to review because of the ever-changing nature of the world. The axiology of pragmatism is that values are relative and situational, and as the culture changes so do its values. Teachers with pragmatist philosophies will focus on building con- structed, participative knowledge with students. They will rely on dialogue and critical examination and will be more comfortable with ambiguity. Existentialism. The initial development of this philosophy is associated with Søren Kierkegaard and Friedrich Nietzsche and in the 20th century in the works of Karl Jaspers, Jean-Paul Sartre, Martin Heidegger, and Albert Camus. Existentialism is marked by three features. First, there is the resis- tance of its philosophers to classification as a distinct philosophical tradition. Second, these philosophers held a disdain for societal structures that robbed individuals of their humanity, such as modern industrialization in the early 20th century. Third, existential philosophers share a disregard for the remote- ness of traditional philosophy. Existentialists encourage deep personal reflec- tion on experiences of deep passion or times of heightened feeling because they believe reality is understood through these moments. Another key tenet is that individuals possess the freedom to make choices, and it is through the nature of these choices that people define themselves. The goal of education is to awaken people to this freedom to choose. In the metaphysics of existentialism, reality is existence grounded in the personal and subjective experience. For its epistemology, knowledge comes through the process of making choices; it is personal and nonscientific, created through the act of living one’s life. Similarly, in its axiology, values are those chosen by the individual; because there are no preexisting or universal values for existentialists, every choice is an act of value creation. Aesthetics play a greater role; as people explore others’ acts of making choices, they create their own standard of what is beautiful to them. Teachers with existentialist philoso- phies will reject “traditional” assignments such as research articles and multi- ple choice exams as irrelevant. They may use experiential learning techniques such as role-playing or service-learning that encourage action and affect. Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 109 by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ Critical social theory. Like existentialism, critical theory resists tradi- tional classification. Critical theory’s ideas can be traced to the works of Marx as well as Max Horkheimer, Theodor Adorno, Antonio Gramsci, Jürgen Habermas, and the modern-day proponent Paulo Freire. The major concerns of critical theorists are critique of society, its structures, and their reproduction. Of particular interest is their belief that powerful groups con- trol societal structures and systematically impose their values on those who lack power. Its metaphysics are that reality is socially constructed through class struggle. Its epistemology rests on the study of conflict, dominance, and power in society. It explores power through deconstructing major works from the old order, and encouraging an epistemology based on one’s autobiographical experiences. Critical theorists advocate reform, and their axiology is grounded in “a strong ethical concern for the individual and a rejection of all possible excuses for hunger, domination, humiliation, injus- tices, and a longing for a better world” (Blake & Masschelein, 2003, p. 38). Teachers with critical social theory philosophies will lead students through deconstruction exercises that focus students’ attention on examining social relationships, including power, class, and motives. They might also include reflection assignments that encourage students to develop a heightened awareness of themselves in socially grounded roles and the demands placed on them therein. Although the philosophies discussed above occurred chronologically, it should be noted that the newer philosophies have not replaced the old ones; they have simply expanded the field. For example, we can find present-day “Great Books” seminars or curricula in which teachers emphasize universal truths presented in the great works of civilization, an idea consistent with the older philosophies of idealism and realism. Implications for Teacher Development and Management Education We believe that the “philosophy” part of teaching philosophies demands more attention. Our review of the pure philosophy terms of metaphysics, epistemology, and axiology establishes the philosophical roots of teaching philosophies and offers a conceptual framework to think about philosophi- cal ideas as they apply to teaching. Our review of the classic educational philosophies illustrates how these elements have been combined at differ- ent times to result in very different beliefs about and approaches to teach- ing. These educational philosophies and concepts also provide the shared but often implicit teaching lexicon. 110 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ Developing teaching philosophies grounded in philosophy and educa- tional philosophies offers a number of benefits to our teaching practice, our personal development, and the community of management education. At the most practical level, being mindful of our values in our teaching practice can guide our decision making in course design and in coping with inevitable teaching dilemmas. Choices about assignments and projects, testing, and classroom dynamics should ideally be consistent with elements of one’s teaching philosophy. Philosophical views, examined or not, will come into play as teachers cope with cases of academic dishonesty, imploding student teams, critical classroom incidents, and negative feedback on their teaching. As teachers embark on the kind of study and reflection of their teaching philosophy that we propose in this article, they may find areas where their classroom practice is inconsistent with their espoused philosophy. When this occurs, teachers can explore this inconsistency to determine whether it is their philosophy or their classroom practice that should be revised. Addressing such inconsistencies allows the teaching philosophy statement to serve as foundation for ongoing development. Revisiting one’s teaching philosophy statement regularly then becomes a tool to create and maintain a clear and authentic identity as a teacher. Authenticity in teaching requires self-awareness, awareness of others, rela- tionships with learners, awareness of context, and a critically reflective approach to practice (Cranton & Carusetta, 2004). The development of a teaching philosophy grounded in traditional philosophy and educational philosophy contributes to value clarification, personal awareness, and con- textual understanding. It provides the ability to “critically question that which is right for us from the [teaching] literature, develop our own per- sonal style, and thereby communicate with students in a genuine way” (Cranton & Carusetta, 2004, p. 6). Being personally centered as a teacher helps us remain present to the emergent learning in each classroom, creat- ing “being moments” in which students and teachers are mutually respon- sible for learning outcomes (Ramsey & Fitzgibbons, 2005). Although we have used the term teaching philosophy in keeping with common semantics of the field, we acknowledge that this terminology over- looks a key constituency in the teaching endeavor, the learners. The philos- ophy teachers enact in the classroom is integrally connected to the students’ beliefs and behaviors. This is especially true for teachers who adopt a socially constructed view of metaphysics (such as pragmatists, existential- ists, and critical theorists). Because their worldview says that reality is cre- ated in social interactions, these teachers are likely to see themselves as Beatty et al. / Philosophy Rediscovered 111 by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ co-learners with their students. Even for teachers holding more objective metaphysical views, the beliefs and attitudes of their students are likely to influence a teacher’s teaching philosophy. For example, students who see themselves as customers and the teaching encounter as a service transaction are likely to bring different attitudes about learning than students who see themselves as junior partners (Ferris, 2002). Thus a more accurate descrip- tion of the teaching philosophy concept would be the term “teaching/learning philosophy.” Future studies should explore how students’ deeply held beliefs about the teaching/learning encounter interact with teachers’ views of the same encounter. At a community level, more thoughtful teaching philosophies can con- tribute to our larger mission in higher education in general and business edu- cation in particular. First, being aware of the heritage of one’s ideas reinforces the connection to the shared values of the teaching community that crosses all disciplinary boundaries. Second, as business education has come under increasing criticism for promoting an amoral stance (Donaldson, 2002; Ghoshal, 2005; Giacalone, 2004), having a well-grounded teaching philoso- phy is consistent with the project to make values more visible in our teach- ing. The content of the specific values we teach may vary widely, as illustrated in our earlier example about the debate in academic service learning between Godfrey and Kenworthy-U’Ren. Our argument is one for the importance of the reflection process, and of making one’s teaching philosophy public. In sharing and discussing our philosophy statements publicly, they become focal documents that link the individual to the professional community and the goals of the institution. They create a basis not only for accountability (Hutchings, 1996) but also for the development and support of institutional values. When each faculty member makes his or her teaching philosophy statement available for public discussion, it becomes possible to examine common ground and differences in philosophy across faculty in a department, college, or across institutions. These discussions must be held with safety, respect, and an attitude of open inquiry as opposed to a critical attitude that seeks to convert others to a “preferred” or “more enlightened” philosophy. Because one’s teaching phi- losophy is such a core element of one’s identity as a teacher, direct criticism of one’s teaching philosophy is akin to a direct assault on the self and will shut down any kind of learning dialogue. Still with careful framing, a shared discussion of personal teaching philosophies can help build community within our departments and universities. 112 Journal of Management Education by guest on June 19, 2011jme.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jme.sagepub.com/ Conclusion For teaching to be considered a scholarly activity, professors should develop a conception of pedagogy that more closely matches the rigor of scholarship in the disciplines themselves (Grasha, 1996). Such rigor includes a more explicit analysis of one’s beliefs about teaching. A well-articulated teaching philosophy statement can surface assumptions and values which are easily taken for granted, offering the opportunity to examine critically the bases for those assumptions and values as well as the consideration of alternatives. A consideration of concepts from philosophy makes possible a deeper understanding of our philosophical roots. References Blake, N., & Masschelein, J. (2003). 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work_v5ohivjvkrfnzhbocbkpbb7ixy	----	Interfaces.indd The North American Intellectual Tradition Camille Paglia1 Recebido 07, jun. 2012 / Aprovado 17, jun. 2012 Resumo: O artigo foi originalmente apresentado em conferência na Fordham University, em 2000, tendo sido publicado dois anos mais tarde no volume de estreia do Journal of the Media Ecology Association, tendo, contudo, permanecido inédito na versão on-line. Contra- pondo-se à penetração do pós-estruturalismo francês nas universidades norte-americanas, o artigo propõe a existência de uma tradição intelectual norte-americana específica, focando- se em três autores-chave para os estudos culturais: Marshall McLuhan, Norman Brown e Leslie Fiedler. Defende-se, assim, um retorno às tradições intelectuais norte-americanas consolidadas nos anos 1950/60. Os três autores analisados são considerados mais úteis para as análises dos grandes fenômenos contemporâneos da mídia de massas e da Internet do que expoentes do pós-estruturalismo, condicionados a uma visão claustrofóbica da sociedade, cega às vastidões da natureza. A desconstrução pode ser necessária para a Europa, com sua longa tradição cultural e suas hierarquias sufocantes, mas não o é nas Américas. Palavras-chave: Marshall McLuhan; Norman Brown; Leslie Fiedler Abstract: This article was originally presented as a lecture at Fordham University in New York in 2000 and was published two years later in the first volume of the Journal of the Media Ecology Association. It has never been published before in an online version. Op- posing the penetration of French post-structuralism in American universities, the paper proposes that there is a distinct and unique American intellectual tradition, focusing on three important authors from cultural studies: Marshall McLuhan, Leslie Fiedler and Nor- man Brown. It is argued that there should be a return to American intellectual traditions as consolidated in the years 1950/60. The three authors are considered far more useful for the analysis of the major phenomena of the contemporary mass media and the Internet than are the exponents of post-structuralism, which has a claustrophobic vision of socie- ty, blind to the vastness of nature outside society. Deconstruction may be necessary in Europe, with its long cultural history and suffocating hierarchies, but not in the Americas. Keywords: Marshall McLuhan; Leslie Fiedler; Norman Brown 202 Résumé: Présenté d’abord sous la forme d’une conférence réalisée à la Fordham Uni- versity, en 2000, qui a été publiée deux ans plus tard dans le premier volume du Journal of the Media Ecology Association, ce texte est resté inédit jusqu’à aujourd’hui dans sa version en ligne. En s’opposant à la pénétration du post-structuralisme français dans les universités nord-américaines, le texte propose l’existence d’une tradition intellectuelle nord-américaine spécifique et privilégie trois auteurs représentatifs des études culturel- les: Marshall McLuhan, Norman Brown et Leslie Fiedler. Il s’agit de défendre un retour aux traditions intellectuelles nord-américaines consolidées au cours des années 1950/60. Plutôt que d’être envisagés comme des noms remarquables du post-structuralisme, con- ditionnés à une vision claustrophobique de la société, aveugle à la vastitude de la nature, les trois auteurs choisis sont considérés utiles pour l’analyse des grands phénomènes contemporains des medias et d’Internet. La déconstruction peut être nécessaire à l’Europe qui a une longue tradition culturelle et des hiérarchies suffocantes, mais elle ne l’est pas dans les Amériques. Mots-clés: Marshall McLuhan; Leslie Fiedler; Norman Brown A war still rages over the legacy of the 1960s. For many conservatives that decade, which began in the 1950s spirit and whose cycle of excess was triggered by the assassination of John F. Kennedy in 1963, is responsible for the worst aspects of contemporary culture, from sexual promiscuity and epidemic divorce to rampant drug use and debased educational standards. The immense variety of 1960s experience has been abbreviated into seve- ral stock formulas: leftist political activism, emerging from the civil rights mo- vement and sparking the women’s and the gay liberation movements; the nature- worshipping counterculture of drug-taking hippies, influenced by Asian religions which have thinned out into today’s New Age sensibility; and finally what might be called urban mod, the kaleidoscope of Pop Art, multimedia innovations in dance and film, and a technicolor explosion of theatrical fashion, originating in London’s Carnaby Street and Portobello Road. It’s this last category that I iden- tify with as a disciple of Andy Warhol and his gender-bending circle of poets, musicans, and filmmakers. What seems to have been forgotten is that there were major intellectual breakthroughs in the 1960s, thanks to North American writers of an older gene- Camille Paglia 203 ration. A schism or rupture in continuity occurred, since the young people most influenced by those breakthroughs did not on the whole enter the professional system and their insights were dissipated into the general society. A cultural va- cuum was created that would be filled in the 1970s by French poststructuralism and German critical theory of the Frankfurt School. Those approaches would do- minate American literature departments for the next quarter century, devastating the humanities and reducing their prestige and power in the world at large. It’s time for a recovery and systematic reassessment of the North Ameri- can thinkers whose work, I believe, will endure over time when the French and German schools have been discarded. Marshall McLuhan, Leslie Fiedler, and Norman O. Brown are the triad I would substitute for the big three of French theory – Jacques Lacan, Jacques Derrida, and Michel Foucault – whose work in my view is specific to postwar European culture and whose ideas do not, I main- tain, transfer successfully into the Anglo-American tradition. McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown were steeped in literature, classical to mo- dern. They understood the way the creative imagination works, and they exten- ded those insights into speculation about history and society. They themselves creatively reshaped traditions and cross-fertilized disciplines, juxtaposing the old and new to make unexpected connections that remain fresh. Most importan- tly, their influence on others was positive and fruitful. McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown did not impose their system on acolytes but liberated a whole generation of students to think freely and to discover their own voices. Their independence fostered independence in others. Lacan, Derrida, and Foucault, in contrast, hang so heavily on their admirers that only strong, already formed figures like the cultivated scholar Edward Said can use them without being strangled by them. French poststructuralism, like the Frankfurt School whose antiquated pre-World War Two assumptions dictate so much current media study, grinds up texts and subjects and makes them all sound drearily alike. And at this point, as we survey the scholarship of the last three decades, it should be tragically obvious that very few, if any, genuinely major books were produced by the British and American critics who fell under the spell of European theory. I feel fortunate indeed that Marshall McLuhan published his central work, Understanding Media, in the very year – 1964 – that I entered college at the State University of New York at Binghamton. McLuhan’s ideas were to pervade the The North American Intellectual Tradition 204 cultural atmosphere. Leslie Fiedler’s Love and Death in the American Novel, as well as Norman O. Brown’s Life Against Death: The Psychoanalytic Meaning of History (which McLuhan cites in his bibliography) had appeared just five years before. This was a time when “theory” meant Anatomy of Criticism, the magis- terial work published in 1957 by McLuhan’s rival at the University of Toronto, Northrop Frye. In chapters subtitled “Theory of Modes”, “Theory of Symbols”, “Theory of Myths”, and “Theory of Genres”, Frye demonstrated what vital the- ory should look like – hypotheses and conclusions based on hard evidence, on a wealth of scholarly detail presented in a lucid, accessible style. I will not include Frye here because, as a literary critic rather than an intellectual per se, he rarely addressed contemporary social or political issues outside of education – and he also disliked and rejected mass media. McLuhan’s pioneering examination of the ongoing revolution wrought by electronic media in Gutenberg’s print culture demonstrated how history could be reinterpreted with terms bridging high and popular culture. There was a bre- athtaking sweep to his vision and a charming aptitude for the startling example. McLuhan’s irreverent, aphoristic wit was perfectly attuned to the brash spirit of my generation, with its absurdist “happenings” and its taste for zinging one-liners – in both the acerbic satiric style of comedian Lenny Bruce and the gnomic, ora- cular manner of Zen sages and Hindu gurus. Understanding Media, which had a tremendous impact on me at a pivotal moment in my development, is a landmark of cultural analysis. In its invigorating interplay of high art and popular culture, technology, and commerce, we see an epic panorama of Western culture. Greek myth, Shakespeare, William Blake, James Joyce, Pablo Picasso, and Margaret Mead mingle with the Marx Brothers amid an Alice in Wonderland swirl of clocks, comic books, alphabets, telepho- nes, and typewriters. Architecture, Roman roads, automobiles, sports, dance, jazz, movies, radio, TV, paper currency, clothing--all the elements of culture meet, merge, and bounce away again. In its picaresque form and carnivalesque tone, Understanding Media resembles a work like Petronius Arbiter’s Satyricon, which gives a vivid picture of 1st century Neronian Rome in mutifarious language, from elite banter to working-class slang. McLuhan achieves here what semioticians only claim to do. He finds the interpretive key to our supercharged and overlo- Camille Paglia 205 aded cultural environment, and his swift rhythms, playful tone, and deft touch make academic semiotics look ponderous, pretentious, and pointlessly abstract. In The Mechanical Bride: Folk Lore of Industrial Man, published in 1951, McLuhan brought his training as a literary critic to bear on the iconography of modern advertisements, reproduced in a graphic style that seems amazingly con- temporary. The rest of the world has finally caught up to that book. But McLuhan never displays the condescending irony of postmodernist appropriation, with its fatiguingly arch self-consciousness. Like Andy Warhol, who began his career as a commercial illustrator, I have loved advertisements since childhood, when they conflated in my mind with the Catholic iconography of stained-glass win- dows and the mythological tableaux of paintings and sculptures in picture books. In 1960, I surprised my ninth-grade teacher with a term project consisting of clipped-out ads and running commentary – exactly the style, little did I know, of McLuhan’s Mechanical Bride. Hence my grateful appreciation of that book when I finally saw it – with its merry profusion of Betty Grable posters, pulp-fiction dust jackets, and magazine ads for light bulbs, diamonds, whiskey, mouthwash, girdles, soap flakes, cars, Coca Cola, and cod liver oil. Leslie Fiedler used his profound knowledge of literature to become the fo- refather of today’s academic multiculturalism. He presciently dwelled on the out- sider – the Native American, the black, the homosexual, and even the maturely sexual woman, whom 19th century American literature caricatured or excluded. Fiedler knew how to apply his liberal progressive ideals without deforming the texts under study. He did not indict literature, whatever its ethically disturbing content, nor did he define art as an oppressive tool of unjust power in the re- ductive way now so familiar. Fiedler’s opening of the literary canon to science fiction or to sentimental nineteenth – and twentieth-century novels, like Margaret Mitchell’s Gone with the Wind, raised hackles in the academic establishment. I was a graduate student at Yale University in 1970 when Fiedler came to speak on the topic, “Teaching Literature in the ‘70s.” Not a single member of the English department came to hear him. But I admired Fiedler’s combination of Jungian archetypes with dark Freudian insights into personality, and I would borrow from it for my own work. Norman O. Brown, with his background in classical studies, moved out of his field to daringly apply Freudian principles to a massive re-reading of Western The North American Intellectual Tradition 206 history. Life Against Death is one of the great non-fiction works of the twentieth century. It is what Michel Foucault longed to achieve but never did. The long, sinuous lines of argumentation--paragraph by paragraph and chapter by chapter-- make Life Against Death a tour de force of North American thought. Brown wea- ves material from Greek philosophy and Christian theology with modern psycho- logy and economic theory to show the conflicts and repressions in human life. He stunningly juxtaposes Jonathan Swift’s so-called “excremental vision” with Martin Luther’s devil-haunted Protestantism and the birth of modern capitalism. Brown shows the link between ideas and physiology, projection and body-ima- ge. Compared to Life Against Death, Herbert Marcuse’s Eros and Civilization (1955), one of the centerpieces of the Frankfurt School, seemed overschematic yet blobby and imprecise to me in college, and I continue to question the inflated reputation of Marcuse as well as his Frankfurt colleague, Theodor Adorno. My argument is that the North American intellectuals, typified by McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown, achieved a new fusion of ideas – a sensory pragmatism or engagement with concrete experience, rooted in the body, and at the same time a visionary celebration of what might be called artistic meta-space – that is, the fictive realm of art, fantasy, and belief portrayed by William Blake in his halluci- natory epic poems that oddly prefigure our own cyberspace. North American philosophers from the late nineteenth century on turned away from the metaphysical preoccupations and increasingly dour world-view of European thinkers. The term “pragmatism” was first used by Charles Peirce in 1878 but was developed by William James, who significantly began his career as a lecturer in anatomy and physiology and only later entered psychology and philosophy. In other words, James’s foundation as a thinker was in the human body. In James’s later portrait of consciousness as an active agent and in his method of testing an idea by defining its “sensations” and asking about its “reac- tions” or practical effects, we see anticipated Marshall McLuhan’s identification of modern media as “extensions” of the human senses and, second, McLuhan’s practice of analyzing technology by focusing on its “effects” in the individual or group. In Understanding Media, for example, McLuhan says, “Environments are not passive wrappings but active processes”. John Dewey, whose critique of authority has had immense influence on modern education, also never lost sight of the biological element in human beha- Camille Paglia 207 vior. Dewey’s theories are grounded in the senses through consideration of “mo- tor-activity” or physical energy. In his philosophy of “instrumentalism”, related to pragmatism, change is a constant in life, but our response should not be doubt or despair, the radical subjectivity of European thought. Dewey is committed to social improvement and experiment, active strategies always subject to review and revision. This resembles McLuhan’s view of the whirlwind of modern socie- ty, where each invention or solution makes another obsolete. The entire cultural system is in a state of dynamic transformation. Dewey’s focus on educational reform also prefigures McLuhan’s atten- tiveness to how the young struggle to process information in a media-saturated age. The French poststructuralists, in contrast, deconstruct and expose the insti- tutions and organization of modern knowledge without thinking about how they would improve matters outside their already highly educated coterie. In fact, they would reject the idea of improvement or reform as bourgeois. Dewey’s faith in democracy is another departure from French and German theory, with its Marxist premises. McLuhan was implacably opposed to Marxism because he clearly saw how capitalism has enhanced modern individualism, un- leashed creativity, and promoted social mobility. Dewey’s democratic ideals also connect to Leslie Fiedler, who published in the Old Left Partisan Review but whose vision of a pluralist, populist America descends more directly from Walt Whitman’s dream of all-embracing inclusiveness in the wake of the Civil War. McLuhan’s interests overlapped with Marxism in the area of institutional analy- sis: he hated bureaucacy and was one of the first, for example, to condemn the centralization and overspecialization of the contemporary university. The final late nineteenth-century American thinker who prefigured our triad is the economist Thorstein Veblen, who is explicitly cited as an influence by Norman O. Brown in Life Against Death. In his 1899 classic, The Theory of the Leisure Class, Veblen speculated about the psychological forces at work in the formation and activity of social institutions in a way that, in Brown’s view, antici- pated Freud. This American line of thought, which extrapolates from observation of actual human behavior rather than, in the French way, the dissection of verbal formulas, can be seen passing from Veblen to the eminent sociologist Erving Goffman, whose 1956 work, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (cited in a later book by Brown) examines the creation and daily operation of social roles. The North American Intellectual Tradition 208 Goffman’s book, a primary text for my 1960s generation, was extensively borro- wed from without due acknowledgment by Foucault, and it is Goffman’s theories that one often hears flowing from the mouths of credulous Foucaldians. The primacy of the body in the North American intellectual tradition is one of our great distinctions. McLuhan’s classification of different eras as “acoustic” or “visual” as well as his emphasis on the “haptic” – that is, the sense of touch – meshes beautifully with the actual practice of the arts. Exploration of the body as a vehicle of thought and emotion is everywhere in the American arts, from the late nineteenth century on. It’s in Isadora Duncan’s freeing of the body through flowing drapery and lyrical, improvisatory dance. It’s in Martha Graham’s cre- ation of the vocabulary of modern dance through study of muscle contractions and visceral spasms and in the orientation of her movement by gravity toward the earth. It’s in the ferociously concentrated rehearsal technique of Lee Strasberg’s interpretation of the Stanislavsky “Method” in the Actor’s Studio. It’s in the Bla- ck Mountain school of poetry’s search for a new kind of rhythm and declamation following the organic pulses and respirations of the body. And it’s in the percus- siveness of our glorious popular music, from ragtime and Dixieland jazz through rhythm and blues to rock ‘n’ roll--the master art form of the 1960s that united us all. It is a scandal that American humanities professors are still forcing un- prepared undergraduates to read turgid French and German theorists rather than the linked triad of McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown as interpreters of postwar re- ality. The philosophic tradition behind the poststructuralists was bankrupt even before their books arrived on these shores. European philosophy collapsed after Kierkegaard and Nietzsche. In their pessimism about objective reality as well as in their nihilistic politics, Husserl and Heidegger, Foucault’s precursors, were responding to specifically European problems, which would end in the disaster of two world wars. From our distant view at the dawn of a new millennium, surely it should be apparent that the despairing introversion of European philososphy in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries happened precisely as mass media were rising to power in the wake of the industrial revolution. Mass communication, the gift of technology, was giving the people their voice and a public forum for their tastes, which always offend the educated elite. Marxist theory has never Camille Paglia 209 been able to adjust to the astounding success of the capitalist mass media, but snobbish, censorious, and now hackneyed Marxist formulations like “commodi- fication” are still being drilled into students by followers of the Frankfurt School. A fundamental problem with the poststructuralists is that they were narro- wly French thinkers who were struggling with the limitations of French discourse as, significantly, French political power was waning around the world. Ame- ricans who had absorbed McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown had no need of posts- tructuralism, which is monotonously based on Saussurean linguistics, with its view of reality as mediated through language. Continental French speakers, with their rationalist Cartesian heritage, may have needed a Saussurean critique, but English speakers do not. That critique is already contained in English literature it- self, as it developed from the Middle English of Chaucer down to the avant-garde verbal experiments of James Joyce--whom both McLuhan and Brown studied and wrote about. The encyclopedic episodes of Joyce’s Ulysses (1922) contain the whole history of language and rhetoric, and make Saussure both unnecessary and irrelevant. English is one of the richest and most complex languages in the world. It is a living art form down to its tiniest parts, which McLuhan recognized in his lifelong devotion to word lists and etymology. There are multiple layers in English--the foundation of concrete Anglo-Saxon monosyllables with the Greco- Roman overlay of abstract polysyllables brought by the Norman invasion, with its own lingering bequest of aristocratic household terms. In his plays, written at the birth of modern English, Shakespeare was the first to exploit those levels for serious and comic effects. Immersion in English literature, as it cascaded down the centuries, gives one a philosophic range because of the profusion of English word choices. Two, three, or four words might be possible, emerging from diffe- rent roots and periods: diction is determined by context. Hence English speakers develop a sense of social context – a hyperawareness of the dramatic situation to which words must be fit. The North American intellectual tradition began in my view in the mid- nineteenth century with the encounter of Romanticism, coming from British po- etry, with the assertive, pragmatic English spoken by North Americans – the plain style, originally Protestant, in the United States as well as Canada, with its strong, no-nonsense Scottish immigrants. It’s Romanticism, incidentally, that The North American Intellectual Tradition 210 Michel Foucault somehow completely missed in his bizarrely incomplete picture of modern intellectual history after the Enlightenment, which he was by no means the first to critique. McLuhan from his schooldays was steeped in the history of English poetry, and it remained his first love. Moreover, he heard his mother, a professional performer, recite poetry at home, so that he had a keen sense of oratory and the folk-loric oral tradition. At Cambridge University, he studied with the founders of the New Criticism, I. A. Richards and William Empson, and he adapted the technique of textual explication for his media work: McLuhan modernized the New Criticism by showing how close reading transfers to fields other than literature. The writer who did most to unite Romanticism with the North American plain style was Ralph Waldo Emerson, a poet and public lecturer who drew on the sermon genre but altered its climactic structure for aphorism, which often dissol- ves his essays into fragments. It is partly to Emerson that I trace McLuhan’s in- tellectual lineage –McLuhan’s aphorisms, or as we now say “sound bites”, were his public signature and may have interfered, to his dismay, with his production of conventional books and essays. It is to Emerson that Norman O. Brown’s strange 1966 book, Love’s Body, should be traced. Brown’s thematic chapter titles (“Liberty”, “Trinity”, “Unity”, “Boundary”) sound like Emerson’s titles in Nature, and his disconnected passa- ges of packed, vatic utterances and quotations are like Emersonian prose-poems. There are precedents in Emerson to McLuhan’s concern with the “extension of consciousness”, with circuits, “integral patterns,” and the “total inclusive field” of experience and perception. For example, Emerson says in “Circles”, “The eye is the first circle; the horizon which it forms is the second. Or notoriously in Na- ture in 1836, “I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me”. McLuhan’s two-way charting of technological advance and obsolescen- ce is anticipated in Emerson’s observation in “Self-Reliance” in 1840: “Socie- ty never advances. It recedes as fast on one side as it gains on the other... For everything that is given something is taken. Society acquires new arts and loses old instincts”. Emerson goes on to draw a Romantic analogy between nature and culture: “Society is a wave. The wave moves onward, but the water of which it is composed does not”. Camille Paglia 211 Indeed it is the respect accorded to nature that I define as a primary cha- racteristic of the North American intellectual tradition. The claustrophobic world of poststructuralism sees nothing but oppressive society operating on passive, helpless mankind. Nature at its wildest and most sublime rarely impinges on Pa- ris – and when it does, as in the once-a-millennium storm winds that swept over France in late December 1999, 10,000 trees fall and the Cathedral of Notre Dame itself begins to crumble. We in North America, with its powerful, ever-changing weather systems, its vast geography, and monumental landmarks like Niagara Falls and the Grand Canyon, know that nature is the ever-present ground of all human thought and action. Marshall McLuhan’s vastness of perception partly came, as his biographer Philip Marchand notes, from his origins in Alberta with its prairie landscape – exactly the kind of landscape, I would add, that inspired an American genius, the Wisconsin-born architect Frank Lloyd Wright, with his “prairie style” that has revolutionized residential design. Leslie Fiedler too, though born and toughened in urban Newark, New Jersey, became a big-sky Northerner whose work would bring American nature together with American history, ethnicity, and sexuality. Fiedler attended graduate school in the north country at the University of Wis- consin – where McLuhan had briefly taught in his first job in 1936. Fiedler began his career at Montana State University, where he taught from 1941 to 1964, after which he became an eminence for 35 years at the State University of New York at Buffalo, one of the snowiest cities in America. Norman O. Brown, interestin- gly enough, also attended graduate school at the University of Wisconsin at the same time, receiving his Ph.D. a year after Fiedler received his. I too, despite my immigrant Italian lineage, claim the feisty independence of the Northerner: I was born, grew up, and attended college in the snowbelt of upstate central New York. I was raised, I like to say, breathing cold, clear Canadian air. Marshall McLuhan, Leslie Fiedler, and Norman O. Brown, born within six years of each other (from 1911 to 1917), became models of the public intel- lectual for the baby boom generation born just after World War Two. Though an academic at a major university, McLuhan was always an outsider who became a citizen of the world, appearing on talk shows, advising business groups, and always trying to address a general audience. Fiedler too believed that a critic must speak the common language to the widest possible audience. Fiedler became a The North American Intellectual Tradition 212 culture hero to campus radicals everywhere when, because of his sponsorship of a student group advocating legalization of marijuana, he was arrested in 1967 and convicted, though he escaped a prison term when the charges were dropped for lack of evidence. The police raid on Fiedler’s Buffalo house was one of the most sensational events of my college years in Binghamton. In one stroke, Fiedler broke the genteel code of American academe. Norman O. Brown made memo- rable apparances to student groups (though I never saw him) and seemed to give his Dionysian imprimatur to the sexual revolution – for which he certainly lost credibility in the scholarly community. The North American synthesis of the pragmatic and the visionary in the works of McLuhan, Fiedler, and Brown is uniquely suited to analyze the swif- tly changing present of our age of technology. Mass media and communication, which have been developed and refined in the United States since the nineteenth- century rise of tabloid-style mass-market newspapers, cannot be fully understood with European models. Media domination, as we have known it since television captured the nation in the 1950s, is still unknown in Europe, where at-home In- ternet use too has barely begun. McLuhan himself was not the wholesale fan of pop culture that many think him; he called TV “a vile drug”, for example, and relegated it to lesser rooms of the house. McLuhan forecast what my generation lived, from transistor radios and stereo headphones to today’s 100 cable channels. But we baby boomers had the advantage of a traditional education in history and great books. I agree with social critic Neil Postman that we should be very concerned about the cultural quandary of American children raised on banal TV shows and violent movies. But the antidote, as I see it, is not to curb the rowdy pagan energies of pop but to reconstruct the counterbalancing citadel of primary education, which has so shockingly deteriorated over the past three decades. As for secondary education, it must be purged of desiccated European for- mulas, which burden and disable the student mind. We need to recover North American paradigms and metaphors, to restore the North American idiom to aca- demic discourse. Media and Internet communications are a Jamesian and Joycean “stream of consciousness,” fluid and mercurial, and our young people--from the brilliant Web entrepreneurs to the pirate hackers who harass institutions and dis- rupt e-commerce – occupy a radically different mental space than the valley of death of pre- and postwar Europe. Camille Paglia 213 As I know from my own work with the online magazine Salon, with its in- ternational readership, McLuhan’s “global village” has come to pass. The Web’s power of rapid response to breaking news events is making daily newspapers and even network TV seem slow and cumbersome. Every day, the Web is fulfilling the 1960s dreams of expanded perception or cosmic consciousness. In concluding this call for a reawakening of North American sensibility, let me cite Emerson’s exhortation in his 1837 lecture “The American Scholar”: “We have listened too long to the courtly muses of Europe,” he declares. Of Ameri- cans, Emerson vows, “We will walk on our own feet; we will work with our own hands; we will speak with our own minds”. Notas 1 Phd em Língua Inglesa pela Universidade de Yale e Professora da Universidade das Artes Philadelphia. Referências BROWN, Norman O. Life Against Death: The Psychoanalytic Meaning of His- tory. Middletown, CT: Wesleyan UP, 1959. BROWN, Norman O. Love’s Body. New York: Random House, 1966. EMERSON, Ralph Waldo. The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson. In- trod. Robert E. Spiller. Text estab. Alfred R. Ferguson. 5 vols. Cambridge, MA: Belknap-Harvard UP, 1971-1994. [Note to copyeditor: contributors’ info applies only to Vol. 1 – no MLA or Chicago style for acknowledging different editors for subsequent volumes in multi-volume, multi-year, single-author works. Library catalogs use Spiller & Ferguson to identify this edition of Emerson’s Works. We can delete Spiller & Ferguson if you find that preferable.] FIEDLER, Leslie A. The Inadvertent Eipc: From “Uncle Tom’s Cabin” to “Roots”. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1979. FIEDLER, Leslie A. Love and Death in the American Novel. New York: Crite- rion, 1960. FOUCAULT, Michel. The Archaeology of Knowledge. Trans. A. M. Sheridan Smith. New York: Pantheon, 1969. Trans. of L’archéologie du savoir. 1969. The North American Intellectual Tradition 214 FOUCAULT, Michel. The Order of Things: An Archaeology of the Human Sci- ences. London: Tavistock, 1970. New York: Pantheon, 1971. Trans. of Les mots et les choses: une archéologie des sciences humaines. 1966. [note to copyeditor: no translator listed on library records or title & copyright pages.] FRYE, Northrop. Anatomy of Criticism. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1957. Goffman, Erving. The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Monograph no. 2. Edinburgh: U of Ediburgh Social Sciences Research Centre, 1956. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1959. JAMES, William. Pragmatism. Ed. Fredson Bowers. Assoc. ed. Ignas K. Skrup- skelis. The Works of William James. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1975. MARCHAND, Philip. Marshall McLuhan: The Medium and the Messenger. New York: Ticknor & Fields, 1989. MARCUSE, Herbert. Eros and Civilization. Boston: Beacon, 1955. [note to copyeditor: English edition is apparently the first; German edition postdates English ed.] MCLUHAN, Marshall. The Mechanical Bride: Folklore of Industrial Man. New York: Vanguard, 1951. MCLUHAN, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1964. New York: Signet-New American Library, 1964. MCLUHAN, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. Introd. Lewis H. Lapham. Cambridge, MA: MIT P, 1994. “Pragmatism.” Oxford English Dictionary. 2nd ed. 1989. SAUSSURE, Ferdinand de. Course in General Linguistics. Ed. Charles Bally and Albert Sechehaye in collab. with Albert Reidlinger. Trans. Wade Baskin. New York: Philosophical Library, 1959. Trans of Cours de linguistique générale. 916. VEBLEN, Thorstein. The Theory of the Leisure Class: An Economic Study in the Evolution of Institutions. New York: Macmillan, 1899. Camille Paglia 
work_v76243nwhnbnth5i7gpnn6n56u	----	new hibernia review / iris éireannach nua, 16:3 (fómhar / autumn, 2012), 67–82 Shane Alcobia-Murphy  “My Cleverly Dead and Vertical Audience”: Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry The looking-glass of Medbh McGuckian’s mind reflects, but transmutes to its own purposes, all that it receives. McGuckian, the author of twelve collections of poetry, has the rare ability to transform dreary, time-rubbed words into phrases that enliven the spirit with the first-timeness of poetic thinking. However, when reading her work, reviewers are often made to feel like puppies barking at the Sphinx. For instance, puzzled by the apparent gnomic tendencies of her first col- lection, The Flower Master (1982), Robin Lane Fox stated that it was “exotic in its imagery and impenetrable in its reference.”1 Kevin T. McEneaney concurred, observing that the poetry’s “obscure logic” created “unnecessary confusions.”2 Reviewers of subsequent collections have often had the same reaction: Aidan Matthews lamented that her poems had a propensity to “escape the reader.”3 Nick Rowe complained that the collection was characterized by the “dark speak of riddle.”4 James Simmons (like McGuckian, a poet from the North) went so far as to say of one collection that it was “a salutary joke by one who hates the excesses of reviewers or literary critics or bad poetry and knows she can elicit rave reviews by writing an alluring book of nonsense.”5 While one cannot deny that McGuckian’s poetry is often difficult to under- stand, critics have of late developed different strategies to enable a reader’s ap- preciation of the thematic and stylistic richness of her verse. For example, critics have usefully read her work within a Kristevan theoretical framework, empha- 1. Robin Lane Fox, “Poetry Now,” Financial Times 8 January 1983. McGuckian Papers, Special Col- lections Department, Robert W. Woodruff Library, Emory University, MSS 770, Box 35 Folder 2. 2. Kevin T. McEneaney, “Flower Masters and Winter Works,” Irish Literary Supplement. Clipping in McGuckian Papers, Box 35, Folder 2. 3. Aidan C. Matthews, “Mandarin Muse,” Irish Times, 13 October 1984. Clipping in McGuckian Papers, Box 35, Folder 3. 4. Nick Roe, “Belfast’s Dark Lady,” North Magazine, 3 (October, 1984), 21. 5. James Simmons, “A Literary Leg-pull?” Belfast Review, 8 (Autumn, 1984), 27. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 68 sizing its pluralist and non-essentialist nature.6 Others have paid close attention to her linguistic strategies and polysemantic play with words to explore how her meta-representational verse displays encounters with “Otherness.”7 McGuckian describes her method of composition as highly deliberate. “I never write just blindly,” she has said. “I never sit down without an apparatus. I always have a collection of words. It’s like a bird building a nest: I gather the materials over the two weeks, or whatever and I keep a notebook or a diary for the words which are happening to me and occurring to me.”8 Before constructing her poetic texts, McGuckian reads a number of bio- graphical studies, critical works or diaries by other authors, and keeps a record of phrases that appeal to her in one of her notebooks. “What you look for in the texts are images,” she says, “striking combinations of maybe two or three unusual words, esoteric vocabulary; in other words, the poetry which is there, embedded in what people write and say, and what they themselves quote from.”9 She then makes a selection from this list and arranges the words in two columns on the top half of a page. The first draft of a poem is then composed on the lower half of this page, with each phrase being cancelled out once it is selected. If we recognize that the poet is engaging in an intertextual practice, then it follows that the tracking down of her sources could shine some light on the intricate workings of the poems and open up new pathways into her oeuvre. For example, “The Over Mother” is a poem that has been dismissed vociferously as unintelligible by Patrick Mason: I’m not sure I can think of a better example of sheer pretentiousness in contem- porary poetry. Are we really supposed to guess what ‘the sealed hotel’ means, what 6. See: Guinn Batten, “‘The More with Which We Are Connected’: The Muse of the Minus in the Poetry of McGuckian and Kinsella,” in Gender and Sexuality in Modern Ireland, ed. Anthony Brad- ley and Maryann Gialanella Valiulis (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1997), pp. 212–44; Sarah Fulford, Gendered Spaces in Contemporary Irish Poetry (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2002), pp. 171–97; Moynagh Sullivan, “The In-formal Poetics of Medbh McGuckian,” Nordic Irish Studies, 3, 1 (2004). 75-92; Erin C. Mitchell, “Slippage at the Threshold: Postmodern Hospitality in Medbh McGuckian’s Poetry,” LIT: Literature Interpretation Theory, 17, 2 (June, 2006), 137–55. 7. See: Robert Brazeau, “Troubling Language: Avant-garde Strategies in the Poetry of Medbh McGuckian,” Mosaic, 37, 2 (June, 2004), 127-44; Helen Blakeman, “‘Poetry Must Almost Dismantle the Letters’: McGuckian, Mallarmé and Polysemantic Play,” in The Poetry of Medbh McGuckian, ed. Shane Alcobia-Murphy and Richard Kirkland (Cork: Cork University Press, 2010), pp. 68-83; Elin Holmsten, “Signs of Encounters in Medbh McGuckian’s Poetry,” in The Poetry of Medbh McGuckian, pp. 84-104. 8. McGuckian, interview with author at the John Hewitt Summer School, 28 July 1995. 9. McGuckian, “Interview with Medbh McGuckian,” interview by Shane Alcobia-Murphy and Richard Kirkland, The Poetry of Medbh McGuckian, p. 201. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 69 kind of ‘passion / exhausts itself at the mouth’, or what ‘the underloved body’ re- fers to? Are her critics the ‘cleverly dead and vertical ones’ she apparently insults?10 Reading the poem in light of its intertexts and the context in which it was written can help dispel its apparent opacity. Below, McGuckian’s text is cited on the right. The quotations on the left are from the poem’s intertexts: Diane Wood Middlebrook’s Anne Sexton: A Biography. marked here with an M, followed by the page number, and Elaine Feinstein, Lawrence’s Women: The Intimate Life of D. H. Lawrence, denoted by F:11 the sealed hotel (M 87); men were handled as if In the sealed hotel men are handled were furniture (F 160); passion exhausts itself at the as if they were furniture, and passion mouth (F 108); the play kisses (M 281) exhausts itself at the mouth. Play kisses The circuits of the body (M 300); underloved stir the circuits of the underloved body Person (M 259); the ever-resurrection (M 228); to an ever-resurrection, a never-had tenderness the never-had tenderness (M 239); I’d just die that dies inside me. inside (M 381); cleverly dead (M 142) vertical audience (M 332); words can fly My cleverly dead and vertical audience, out (M 184); climate of unexpectation (M 144) words fly out from your climate of unexpectation leaky letters (M 83); shallowized (M 301) in leaky, shallowised night letters— What you has spoken? (M 207) what you has spoken?12 The poem’s locus is ironically depicted as a “sealed hotel,” a temporary place of residence bereft of the usual trappings of luxury and ease associated with a hotel; here, the location is clearly a contained space wherein freedom of movement is curtailed. At the time of writing, McGuckian was teaching poetry classes to the inmates of the Maze Prison. Much of Captain Lavender, the collection from which the poem is taken, is written in response to the prisoners’ conditions. The inmates, “handled / as if they were furniture,” are at the mercy of their jailor (the poem’s “Over Mother”). Referring to the prisoners depicted throughout the col- lection, McGuckian states, “I just wanted to ring the changes on their still being in a cage. They had freedom. . . . In their own world they had their own private republic, their own Gaeltacht.”13 Such freedom, however, is tempered not only by the poem’s overriding sense of enclosure, but by the theatricalized nature of communication which takes place therein—with “play kisses” and “shallowised night letters,” all is covert, potentially superficial, and unreal. 10. David Mason, “Irish Poetry at the Crossroads,” The Poetry of Life and the Life of Poetry (Ashland, OR: Story Line Press, 2000), p. 112. 11. Diane Wood Middlebrook, Anne Sexton: A Biography (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1991); Elaine Feinstein, Lawrence’s Women: The Intimate Life of D. H. Lawrence (London: Flamingo, 1994). 12. McGuckian, “The Over Mother,” in Captain Lavender (Oldcastle: Gallery Press, 1994), p. 64. 13. McGuckian, interview with author, Marine Hotel, Ballycastle, County Antrim, 19 August 1996. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 70 As the poem’s main intertext—the Middlebrook biography of Sexton—sug- gests, there is a distinction to be made between “a human relationship” and “a letter relationship between humans” in which “words can fly out of your heart (via the fingers) and no one really need live up to them.”14 Indeed, the speaker is left asking “what you has spoken?” Selfhood is occluded and true expression is curtailed in this environment. McGuckian remarked in an interview that the “letters are ‘leaky’ because they are censored and ‘shallowised’ because they can- not be deep.”15 In contrast to the lack of agency depicted in the opening stanza (“handled / as if they were furniture”), the poet concludes the third and final stanza by wishing that the poem’s addressee would “look to me / as if I could give you wings.” Both similes are taken from Elaine Feinstein’s biography of Lawrence. The first refers to the rough, intrusive treatment meted out by an in- stitution, the military, which results in making Lawrence desire “to have wings, only wings and to fly away.”16 Although the “wings” here are physical ones of an airplane, the simile at the poem’s conclusion is taken from a different part of the biography, which details how Lawrence once tutored William Henry Hock- ing, a young farmer more used to working with his hands than engaging in the pursuits of the mind. In a letter to Barbara Low, Lawrence writes that Hocking “looks to me as if I could suddenly give him wings—and it is a trouble and a nuisance.”17 In contrast to Lawrence, McGuckian welcomes the opportunity to educate and encourage the intellectual curiosity of her charges. By providing po- etry classes for the prisoners, she adopts a nurturing, tutelary role. She becomes a different sort of “Over Mother,” an enabling one who can facilitate intellectual freedom which allows them to rise above their present physical constraints. However, one can read “The Over Mother” in quite a different way. The “house” in a McGuckian poem is, in the words of the poet, “probably the poem itself . . . or a symbol for the world of the poem.”18 One could argue that the poem itself is “the sealed hotel,” a place in which she handles her literary exemplars “as if they were furniture,” where passion “exhausts itself at the mouth.” Citing from the biography of Lawrence here, that text is sampled and then dropped in favor of the next exemplar. Yet, one could argue that McGuckian uses her poem as a protest against patriarchal restrictions and as a means of asserting her words’ abilities to “fly out from your climate of unexpectation.” The latter phrase is taken from Middlebrook’s biography, which describes Sexton as an example of 14. Middlebrook, p. 184. 15. McGuckian, “A Dialogue with Medbh McGuckian, Winter 1996-1997,” interview by Rand Brandes, Studies in the Literary Imagination, 30, 2 (Fall, 1997), 44. 16. Feinstein, p. 160. 17. Feinstein, p. 148. 18. McGuckian, quoted in Catherine Byron, “A House of One’s Own: Three Contemporary Irish Women Poets,” Women’s Review, 19 (May, 1987), 33. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 71 someone who benefited from “a social experiment involving women,” namely the setting up of the Radcliffe Institute to “harness the talents of intellectually displaced women.” The Institute’s founder had contended that “many well- educated women in the Boston area were ready, after raising families, to return to full-time intellectual or artistic work but struggling for opportunity in a ‘climate of unexpectation.’”19 The “vertical audience” sought by McGuckian is symptom- atic of the poet’s assertion of her own authority. She desires to move outward from the private realm and into the public, “the ‘vertical audience’ of peers living and dead, measurable in the tables of contents of influential anthologies.”20 In many respects, then, the text can be read as a declaration of originality—and as a protest against critics like Mason. By selecting, modifying and juxtaposing quotations to form a poetic text, Mc- Guckian engages in a form of “appropriative writing.” Practitioners of the genre include John Ashbery and Walter Abish, among others; Raphael Rubinstein de- scribes their method by noting, “rather than weave obvious quotations into his or her words, the writer becomes a kind of scribe, transferring small or large pas- sages, usually without attribution or other signals that these words were written by someone else.”21 McGuckian’s contribution to the genre is different from that of the other writers, in terms of both scale and function. A work like Abish’s “99: The New Meaning,” which juxtaposes ninety-nine excerpts, each from a different novel and each “from a page bearing that same . . . mystically significant number” is really a composition by mosaic organization rather than an authored piece.22 The reader is aware from the outset that each segment is a quotation: Abish de- clares from the outset that the work is “undertaken in a playful spirit—not actu- ally ‘written’ but orchestrated.”23 Similarly, a poem like John Ashbery’s “The Dong with the Luminous Nose” is foregrounded as a cento, a classical form whereby the poet constructs a new poem from lines taken from other works. Crucially, recog- nition is central to the cento’s effect. Not only is there an implied tribute being made to the poet’s precursors, but the reader is also meant to appreciate the poet’s skill in manipulating existing lines. In McGuckian’s case, the quotations are not recognizable, nor does she openly acknowledge their presence. However, while the relations between poem and source text may be diffi- cult to discern, they are not intended to be arbitrary. The deliberateness of her method can be seen by the following list, marked “Biography,” included in Mc- Guckian’s papers: 19. Middlebrook, p. 144. 20. Middlebook, p. 332. 21. Raphael Rubinstein, “Gathered, Not Made: A Brief History of Appropriative Writing,” American Poetry Review, 28, 2 (March-April, 1999), 31. 22. Walter Abish, 99: The New Meaning (Berkeley: Burning Deck, 1990), p. 9. 23. Abish, p. 9. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 72 1. Felicia’s Café woman poet 2. Princess of Parallelograms. poet. 3. Isba Song. women poet 4. The Sitting. painter 5. Vanessa’s Bower. Male writer/lover 6. Heiress. Historical 7. Aphrodisiac. lover/historical 8. Katydid. Historical 9. Mrs McGregor. woman writer 10. Oak—Leaf Camps. woman writer 11. Time before you. poet 12. Coleridge. poet 13. Charlotte’s Delivery—woman writer 14. Road 32—woman painter 15. Gigot Sleeves—woman poet 16. Moses Room—Irish historical figure24 McCuckian accompanies these by a brief indication of the writer or historical figure featured in each one; she envisages the sources themselves as integral to the poem’s meaning. Indeed, in an interview McGuckian intimates that the link between source and quoting text is not broken after the compositional process is completed: “I like to find a word living in a context and then pull it out of its context. It’s like they are growing in a garden and I pull them out of the garden and put them into my garden, and yet I hope they take with them some of their original soil, wherever I got them.”25 McGuckian’s formulation indicates an on- going relation between the quoting and quoted texts. But it also suggests both literary theft and originality at one and the same time. The words are taken from someone else’s “garden” and are subsequently planted in hers; the italicized “my” emphasizes the notion of ownership. To what extent, then, is a McGuckian text “original”? Poststructuralist think- ing indicates it is difficult to attribute “originality” to any text, as, in Roland Barthes’s words, it is “woven entirely with citations, references, echoes, cultural- languages . . . antecedent or contemporary, which cut across it through and through in a vast stereophony.”26 Barthes argues that all words accrue meanings and connotations, and that a text is merely “a fabrication of quotations, resulting from a thousand sources of culture.”27 However, leaving that general argument 24. McGuckian Papers, “Biography,” Box 26 Folder 59: Notes. 25. “‘I Am Listening in Black and White to What Speaks to me in Blue’: Medbh McGuckian Inter- viewed by Helen Blakeman,” Irish Studies Review, 11, 1 (April, 2003), 67. 26. Roland Barthes, “From Work to Text,” Image, Music, Text, trans. Stephen Heath (London: Fon- tana, 1977), p. 160. 27. Barthes, “Death of the Author,” The Rustle of Language, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Hill and Wang, 1987), p. 53. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 73 aside, it must be noted that a McGuckian poem is very rarely a transcription of large quotations which are left unmodified, as if they were “found poems.” Rather, she alters the (relatively short) quotations, stitching them together to form a new whole, in a manner akin to a collage or patchwork quilt. As she says in one interview, “I just take an assortment of words, though not exactly at ran- dom, and I fuse them. It’s like embroidery.”28 She does so without any anxiety of influence, very much in the spirit of Em- erson’s remark that, “All minds quote. Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands. By necessity, by proclivity and by delight, we all quote.”29 What is crucial in McGuckian’s case is the element of modification, a process that secures her place among T. S. Eliot’s pantheon of “good poets.” Eliot declared, “bad poets deface what they take, and good poets make it into something better, or at least some- thing different.”30 A clear example is the title poem from her fourth collection, Marconi’s Cottage (1991). In the opening stanzas below, quotations from Anne Stevenson’s Bitter Fame: A Life of Sylvia Plath (1990) are cited on the left as BF :31 small & watchful (BF 357); a light- Small and watchful as a lighthouse, house (BF 356); pure clear place (BF 357) A pure clear place of no particular childhood, no particular childhood (BF ix); as if she It is as if the sea had spoken in you had spoken in you (BF 22); dry, dry, And then the words had dried. the words (BF 26) bitten (BF 312); sea-fostered (BF 13) Bitten and fostered by the sea this British spring (BF 81); there seemed And by the British spring, only this one way of happening (BF 86) There seems only this one way of happening. And a poem to prove it happened (BF 78) And a poem to prove it has happened. Now I am close enough, I open my arms castle-thick walls (BF 222); learning To your castle-thick walls, I must learn to use this wildness (BF 138); locked and To use your wildness when I lock and unlock unlocked (BF 64); weaker than kisses (BF 121) Your door weaker than kisses.32 Stevenson’s biography of Sylvia Plath presents “an objective account of how this exceptionally gifted girl was hurled into poetry by a combination of biographi- cal accident and inflexible ideals and ambitions.”33 But readers would be hard- 28. “McGuckian,” in Sleeping with Monsters: Conversations with Scottish and Irish Women Poets, ed. Gillean Somerville-Arjat and Rebecca E. Wilson (Dublin: Wolfhound Press, 1990), p. 2. 29. Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, vol. 1 (London: Taylor Francis, 1913), p. 467. 30. T. S. Eliot, The Sacred Wood: Essays on Poetry and Criticism (London: Methuen, 1969), p. 125. 31. Anne Stevenson, Bitter Fame: A Life of Sylvia Plath (London: Penguin, 1990). 32. McGuckian, “Marconi’s Cottage,” Marconi’s Cottage (Oldcastle: Gallery Press, 1991), p. 103. 33. Stevenson, p. xi. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 74 pressed to identify this as the source, based on thirty-four quotations selected to make up this poem: they are very short, lack overt reference to Plath, and the relation between them in the biography is rarely proximal. As such, this poem can be read as a direct address to “Marconi’s Cottage,” the summer dwelling purchased by McGuckian and her husband in Ballycastle, County Antrim. The house in the first stanza is depicted as at the mercy of the elements, acutely vulnerable and eternally vigilant; such watchfulness, however, does not simply stem from a self-protective urge as the initial simile (“as a light- house”) indicates a deliberate openness to the sea. The emphasis on land-sea communication is apt, given the poem’s title and the name of the cottage. Mar- coni’s assistant, George Kemp, came to the Northern Irish coast in 1898 to see if he could receive wireless signals at Ballycastle from the lighthouse on Rathlin Island. While the house acts as an antenna, or listening post, receiving commu- nications (“as if the sea had spoken in you”), the parley between sea and land has failed, or at least has resulted in a loss (the sea’s words have “dried”). The second stanza presents an acceptance that this is how the communication must occur. The relation between the house and the sea is again depicted as ambivalent: it is at once destructive (“bitten”), and nurturing (“fostered”). This stanza acts as a gloss on the first, and the closing lines in each refer to communication. Thus, the influence of the sea on the house is akin to the relation between muse and poet: they are both being “inspired”—literally, being breathed upon. As Patricia Boyle Haberstroh has pointed out, voices “coming over telephones and answering ma- chines” recur throughout the collection and “numerous poems suggest an anal- ogy between Marconi’s wireless communication and the work of the poet and artist.”34 This would seem to suggest that the resulting poem is merely a trace or compromised translation of the initial influence. Yet, as the poem progresses, the speaker learns to open herself to the influence of the cottage and tries to control and harness its wild energies (“lock and unlock / Your door”). McGuckian has read Stevenson’s text, and chosen words that speak to her and for her. She often relates to the source material in such a manner, and has said, “I forget the texts totally because I have to—like a diving board—otherwise I would be left up there. They provide the means, but my dive is each time my own skin into the world.”35 Thus, one can read the poem without any knowledge of Plath’s biography. However, it is not wholly true to say that the poet has “to- tally” forgotten the source text. McGuckian acknowledges Plath as a “significant” 34. Patricia Boyle Haberstroh, Women Creating Women: Contemporary Irish Women Poets (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1996), p. 149. 35. McGuckian, “Interview with Medbh McGuckian”, interview by Alcobia-Murphy and Kirkland, pp. 201-02. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 75 influence, and the poem attests to this.36 The text’s addressee can be read as Plath herself, with McGuckian learning to use the example or her “wildness” in her own work. The lines contain Plath’s biography in miniature: the psychic disorder which stemmed from “no particular childhood”; the way she viewed herself as being “sea-fostered”; her belief in forces beyond human control; her fascination with death which brought out an intense creativity in her. Yet what the poem ul- timately celebrates is the successful encounter between two very different poets: “you are all I have gathered / To me of otherness.” McGuckian learns to appreci- ate and use Plath’s influence; as the speaker pleads in the final stanza, “Let me have you for what we call / Forever.” McGuckian often self-reflexively signals the presence of an intertext—as she does in in “Marconi’s Cottage”—by staging encounters with others in her work, particularly by employing images of contact, among them letters, telephone calls, face-to-face conversations. and human touch. In “Venus and the Sun,” also in Marconi’s Cottage, she writes about Jean Cocteau’s influence on her work. The parenthetical references in the left column below are to Francis Steegmuller’s biography of Cocteau:37 “he returns . . . as if from a seashore” (C 42) When I return from poetry as from a sea-shore “the streets of dream” (C 366); whatever it To the streets of dream, what is left on waking was he was full of, naming itself (C 350); Is whatever I was full of, naming itself: “There is a colour walking around, with people ‘A colour walks around, with people hidden in it’. hidden in it” (C 315); was meant to mean nothing (C (221); “lifted A summer that was meant to mean nothing his ten fingers like a fence between us” (C 430) Lifted his ten fingers like a fence between us “snow that doesn’t fall” (C 145); “I feel them Or snow that does not fall. I felt him through through the envelope” (C 251); touching glove An envelope, a glove touching a glove. to glove (C 304); “sound-curves” (C 304); shorn of all words (C 188); “‘humming’ you His sound-curves so quivering, I was shorn with my eyes and mouth” (C 158) Of all words, and hummed him with my eyes and mouth.38 The images in the second stanza—“fingers like a fence,” “felt him through / An envelope,” “a glove touching a glove”—indicate communication across bound- aries; though unable to touch the precursor directly, his presence is nevertheless felt. The poem’s opening images are themselves quotations acknowledging the influence of and admiration for a fellow artist. The first is from a telegraph sent 36. McGuckian, “‘Uncharted Territory’: An Interview with Medbh McGuckian”, unpublished inter- view by Michaela Schrage-Früh, September 2004. The interview has been uploaded onto the “Medbh McGuckian” group on Facebook. 37. Francis Steegmuller, Cocteau: A Biography (Basingstoke: Macmillan, 1970). 38. McGuckian, “Venus and the Sun,” Marconi’s Cottage, p. 81. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 76 by Rainer Maria Rilke in 1926 to his friend Madame Klossowska: “‘Make Cocteau feel how warmly I admire him. . . . He is the only one whom poetry admits to the realm of myth, and he returns from its radiance aglow, as from a seashore’.”39 The second is Cocteau’s own recorded debt to his friend Vander Clyde, known as “Barbette,” a trapeze artist and female impersonator: Cocteau was full of praise for his performances, stating that his act seemed to take place “‘in the streets of dream’.”40 That emphasis on indebtedness and tribute-paying is continued throughout the poem. In the third stanza, for instance, the speaker says that she “hummed him with my eyes / And mouth.” The inference here is of a wilful communion whereby the speaker incorporates the male figure into herself; McGuckian may be “shorn / Of all words”, but art can be made with someone else’s influence. The quotation itself refers to Cocteau’s own tribute to Valentine Gross, an artist and set designer. In 1916 he wrote to her declaring, “‘My image of you, so sweet, so substantial, stands out against the ronde of the Rite like a ringlet of George Sand’s hair uncurling in a Chopin waltz. This to make you understand that you are helping me, pursuing me, like a musical motif. . . . I am ‘humming’ you with my eyes and my mouth’.”41 However, as much as the poem records the poet’s debt to a precursor, it is also manifestly about poetry. As in “Marconi’s Cot- tage,” the movement from seashore to land is here an objective correlative for the transition between inspiration and composition. This time, however, there is no suggestion of loss or inexactitude. Rather, there is a confidence that the preoccupations of the dream-world, or the unconscious, can successfully find linguistic approximation in her text. Thus, “what is left on waking / Is whatever I was full of, naming itself.” Much of McGuckian’s poetry tends to contain a commentary on poeisis, informing the reader of how she conceives the work. In “Calling Canada,” for example, poetry is a means of cutting into “other people’s dreams.” The quota- tions denoted with an “A” are from Amanda Haight’s study Anna Akhmatova: A Poetic Pilgrimage (1976):42 she talks as if to a daughter (A 126); into the seething I talk to the darkness as if to a daughter, darkness (A 133); Or something that once pressed from inside her “striped notebook” (A 30); Like a street of youth. My striped notebook just a dress over her bare body (A 7); Is just a dress over my body, so I will waken “for no reason” (A 171); At a touch, or for no reason at all. In it 39. Steegmuller, p. 42. 40. Steegmuller, p. 366. 41. Steegmuller, p. 158. 42. Amanda Haight, Anna Akhmatova: A Poetic Pilgrimage (New York: Oxford University Press 1976) Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 77 “cut into dreams” (A 9); I learn how to cut into other people’s dreams, telephoned again, “Paris style” (A 109) How to telephone them Paris-style . . .43 The verbal phrase “to cut into” may connote unwanted intrusion, but the poem suggests otherwise. For McGuckian, creating a poem is an involved and involv- ing process; having read biographies detailing the lives of others, she figuratively cuts extracts from the texts and then consciously or unconsciously relates the ex- periences recorded in her notebook to her own life. As she states, “these separate phrases from different places are fused together in a paradoxical, contradictory way to give or get at some truth of something in my life.”44 Normally, such an intertextual practice would establish the relation between precursor and quoting poet as one of teacher and pupil or parent and child, with the precursor always inhabiting the more powerful role. In “Calling Canada,” however, McGuckian is the “mother” speaking to “a daughter” and she is the one who is figured as actively communicating. This is a necessary psychological and poetic strategy to assert the originality of one’s work. When self-reflexively commenting on poesis, McGuckian often adopts the form of the “ekphrastic text.” She deploys this mode of writing when exploring the limits and possibilities of her craft. The term “ekphrasis” originally referred to a rhetorical theory and practice dating from classical antiquity.45 In contem- porary literary criticism. it has come to refer to “the act of speaking to, about, or for a work of visual or plastic art.”46 Ekphrastic poetry is often motivated by an envious regard for painters and sculptors in whose work poets have seen “an im- mediacy, a presence, a ‘hereness’ that they have wanted for words, but that they suspect words can only gesture toward.”47 In writing a poem about a painting, then, poets attempt to appropriate the “visual other” and “transform and master the image by inscribing it” within their text.48 As such, the poem constitutes an effort “to reproduce the supposed advantage of the rival art in its own medium, 43. “Calling Canada” from McGuckian and Nuala Archer, “Two Women, Two Shores” (Baltimore: Chestnut Hills Press, 1989), p. 21. 44. McGuckian, “Interview with Medbh McGuckian,” interview by Alcobia-Murphy and Kirkland, p. 201. 45. See Ruth Webb, Ekphrasis, Imagination and Persuasion in Ancient Rhetorical Theory and Practice (Surrey: Ashgate, 2009), pp. 1-11. 46. Jane Hedley, “Introduction: The Subject of Ekphrasis,” in In the Frame: Women’s Ekphrastic Po- etry from Marianne Moore to Susan Wheeler, ed. Jane Hedley, Nick Halpern, and Willard Spiegelman (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2009), p. 15. See also Leo Spitzer, “The ‘Ode on a Grecian Urn’, or Content vs. Metagrammar,” in Essays on English and American Literature, ed. Anna Hatcher (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962), p. 72. 47. Elizabeth Bergmann Loizeaux, Twentieth-Century Poetry and the Visual Arts (Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 2008), p. 4. 48. Grant F. Scott, “The Rhetoric of Dilation: Ekphrasis and Ideology,” Word & Image, 7, 4 (October- December, 1991), 302. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 78 which is of course to deny or steal that avowed capacity.”49 At its heart, ekphrastic poetry is said to be “paragonal” in nature, as it implicitly or explicitly enacts “a struggle for dominance between the image and the word.”50 Again, a knowledge of the poem’s intertexts can provide a reader with a greater appreciation of how McGuckian frames this “struggle.” Her poem “A New Portrait in the Naughton Gallery” from My Love Has Fared Inland (2008) shows this clearly. The text of this poem is based on James Elkins’s study of emotional responses to paintings. Painting and Tears, cited in the excerpts below as PT.51 The poem presents a vivid pen-picture of Giovanni Bellini’s The Ecstasy of St. Francis (1475-80), a work which is part of the permanent collection at the Henry Clay Frick House, New York. Eleven of the poem’s nineteen stanzas are devoted to this painting, in which we see Saint Francis of Assisi caught in ecstatic rapture at the moment when he is pierced by the stigmata, or the five wounds in imitation of those inflicted on Christ on the cross: dressed in monk’s robes, looking up into He is dressed in monk’s robes, looking up the sky (PT 79); surrounded by a swirling sea of bluish into the sky, surrounded by a bluish sea rocks (PT 79); chalky and dry (PT 79); as if he were a boulder in chalky and dry, as if he were a boulder a stream (PT 79) in a stream . . . there is no green (PT 80); Some of the blues There is no green, though some are stained of the blues by browns (PT 80); scatters of fine dirt (PT 80); are stained by browns and scatters of dirt, a fuzz of blighted grass (PT 80); a fuzz of blighted thorns. The ripped surface reflects a wan (PT 80); The ripped surface reflects no tender tender sap (PT 80); toxic fog (PT 81); sap, but a wan or toxic fog, A slate-gray donkey (PT 80); a close-cropped the slate-grey of a close-cropped field, field (PT 80); parched and marred by thistles (PT 80); parched and marred by thistles. Is the saint looking up at the sun? Possibly (PT 81); Is he looking up at the sun? he even has a tiny yellow glint in his eye (PT 81); Possibly – for he has a tiny yellow as if someone has jumped into it (PT 81) glint in his eye, as if someone has just jumped into it. . . . 52 49. Stephen Cheeke, Writing for Art: The Aesthetics of Ekphrasis (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2008), p. 1. 50. James A. W. Heffernan, Museum of Words: The Poetics of Ekphrasis from Homer to Ashberry (1993; Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), p. 1. 51. James Elkins, Pictures and Tears: A History of People Who Have Cried in Front of Paintings (New York: Routledge, 2004). 52. McGuckian, “A New Portrait in the Naughton Gallery,” in My Love Has Fared Inland (Oldcastle: Gallery Press, 2008), pp. 74-76. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 79 Following the speaker’s gaze as it traverses the painting’s surface, the stanzas present a mixture of description, interpretation, and imaginative projection. As readers, we are provided with details of the dress, position, and deportment of the painting’s central figure, as well as with an evaluative commentary upon the artwork’s materiality and coloration. In McGuckian’s text, forensic analysis, speculation and poetic re-presentation combine to comment upon, and to rival, Bellini’s treatment of his subject. The two similes—“as if he were a boulder / in a stream” and “as if someone hast just / jumped into it”—provide a way of rationalizing and enlivening the static artwork. However, one could argue that not only is the poem’s originality complicated by the service paid to Bellini’s painting; it is also compromised by its reliance upon, and co-option of, Elkins’s commentary. Indeed, the poem’s conclusion, when the speaker says that “it sinks / forever into the way I think,” accords with and appropriates Elkins’s own reaction to the painting: “Somehow, the Ecstasy of St. Francis resembled the way I thought. It had the right texture, it pooled in the right places. When I looked, it was as if words had been swept out of my head and replaced by brushstrokes and colours.”53 Such a conclusion would suggest a defeat for art critic and poet alike. Linguistic resources are here subsumed by those associated with the pictorial. However, Elkins does, in fact, write his com- mentary in words, as does McGuckian. Although “sinks / forever into” may well acknowledge influence, it is not marked as unduly invasive, nor does it result in submissive silence. That the poem does not cede authority to Elkins can be seen by a close comparison between source and quoting text: “rocks” is changed to “sea” to highlight a tension between the painting’s static form and the action it attempts to convey; “grass” becomes “thorns” to accentuate the religious symbolism. The poetic transformation of prose fragments is perhaps best seen in the deploy- ment of clever enjambments: “boulder” brings us up short at the line’s end, prohibiting momentarily the reader’s advance; “jumped” matches the action of the reader’s eye as we follow the sentence over into the stanza’s third line. But enjambment is not simply used to present equivalence between the paint- ing and poem’s subject matter; it is used equally to highlight difference. When the viewer notices that the monk is “looking up / into the sky”, her eye takes an ascending course; when reading the poetic description, she is forced to move in the opposite direction. The latter half of the poem describes the painting’s form and content in great detail, but the opening stanzas are more concerned with the ways in which these are read: 53. Elkins, p. 75. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 80 about the distance you’d stand from About the distance you’d stand someone (PT 18); from someone, like a whispered secret that goes around like a whispered secret that goes around a room (PT 77); a room, centred on its wall (PT 79); ‘daylight would fall, it was centred on its wall, where daylight later on would fall, in the year, once this tangible season was later on in the year, after this tangible season. history’ (PT 135);’I nearly wanted to step forward and warm my hands on it’ (PT 55); ‘it had I wanted to step forward and warm my hands something to on it: do with the war, and with the charred, burn-up it had something to do with the war, the charred, books’ (PT 226); The Frick has a lovely air. To me burnt-up books—it had a lovely air— it has it smelled always smelled as if it were scented with the finest as if it were scented with the finest particles particles of disintegrated books (PT 74); it held me in thrall (PT 87); of disintegrated books—it held me in thrall. Now it’s like peering between the shelves in It was like peering between the a library . . . shelves beyond the wall of books (PT 91); coloured an of a library, beyond a wall of books, impossibly smooth and chilling blue (PT 89); coloured an impossibly smooth and They were chilling blue, easier to see (PT 84) which made the picture easier to see. The emphasis here is less concerned with providing a descriptive outline of an artwork than with detailing the conditions and context of its reception. To be fair, the term “artwork” is perhaps a misnomer. Based on Elkins’s monograph, the poem’s “painting” is a conflation of Mark Rothko’s fourteen opaque Black Chapel paintings (1964-67), Vincent Van Gogh’s The Olive Trees (1887), Bellini’s The Ecstasy of St. Francis, and unspecified works by Anselm Kiefer. McGuckian’s poem does not slavishly follow, copy, or describe a single ex- isting artwork; thus, the writing here is tantamount to “notional ekphrasis,” to use John Hollander’s term for literary representations of imagined artworks.54 One could contend that the poem is implicitly a polemical, agonistic display, one that matches iconic portraiture by means of its own imaginative projection. The stanzas themselves are characterized by a structure of unresolved tensions, typical of McGuckian’s love of ambiguity: the opening line delineates the ap- propriate distance from which to gain a full appreciation of the artwork, but the second line’s simile undercuts such precision (“Each time you recall something 54. John Hollander, The Gazer’s Spirit: Poems Speaking to Silent Works of Art (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995), p. 7. McGuckian’s “portrait” is not located in the Frick Collection, but at the Naughton Gallery at Queen’s University Belfast. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 81 it changes a little, like a whispered secret that goes around a room and gradu- ally changes into nonsense”).55 The third line foregrounds the painting’s stability (“centred”), yet this contrasts with the two conflicting temporal frames depicted therein (the Van Gogh is said to portray “‘two distinct times at once’”).56 Al- though the speaker is attracted to the painting, wanting to “warm” her hands on it, the predominant color is a “chilling blue.” Finally, the assertion that “it had a lovely air” is tempered by the source of the scent (“charred, burnt-up books” and “something to do with the war”). However, the key opposition resides in the third and fourth stanzas. These suggest that literature is directly opposed to painting and, surprisingly, the lat- ter seems to be valorized at the former’s expense: “wall of books” suggests an impediment to vision and her gaze must move between and beyond the shelves in the library to gain access to the painting. Indeed, since she is “held in thrall” by the painting—hence captivated by and in bondage to its power—literature, it seems, has lost this paragone. Yet, this is to simplify McGuckian’s text, as move- ment through the library makes it “easier to see” the painting. Indeed, it is only by reading Elkins’s text, one made from words and not pigment, that she can see, and construct, her “painting.” She gathers together books from the library, se- lects key phrases and then, through her arrangement, moves beyond the source. Instead of viewing the poem as agonistic, it would be more correct to argue that it uses paintings (and a work about paintings) as an imaginative resource, one that allows her to reflect self-consciously upon her own creative process; indeed, as Elizabeth Loizeaux contends, due to “the self-reflexive nature of ekphrasis,” writing about “a work of art becomes a way of looking sideways at poetry.”57 The eye is rebuffed by the dim canvas (PT 217); My eye was rebuffed by the dim canvas— “How beautiful” (PT 217); how flat (PT 217); The how beautiful, how flat! It was sealed painting is sealed off from us (PT 165); It’s a off from me like a relic, a prize antique a relic (PT 165);like the prize antiques in a funeral in a funeral parlour, but the hand parlour (PT 79); like a hand that reaches out (PT 133); as if the painting had reached out and put a hand that does not reach out on to our side behind her head, and was trying to gather of the painting was trying to gather her in (PT 184) me in . . . These stanzas are crucial, as they reflect upon how we react to an artwork. The painting seems remote, enigmatic, and forbidding; yet the painting, rather than the viewer, initiates contact and attempts to “gather” her in. For a full ap- preciation of an artwork the viewer must be open to the aesthetic experience. As Elkins argues, to “be in love with a painting—to cry,” one must “be able to 55. Elkins, pp. 76-77. 56. Elkins, p. 135. 57. Loizeaux, p. 9. Medbh McGuckian’s “Difficult” Poetry 82 believe a painting can be alive: not literally, but moment by moment in your imagination.” In contrast, many viewers simply close themselves off and refuse to take the risk of giving themselves over to aesthetic bliss: That way paintings can be beautiful and safely dead, propped up by the hun- dreds of little facts that we have placed around them like so many votive offerings. There is no imaginative contact, no risk. The eye is rebuffed by the dim canvas, and keeps falling back into the lazy chair of clichés—‘How Beautiful’, people say, without thinking how flat that sounds.58 Elkins’s argument applies to the reception of poetry as much as it does to paint- ing. In many respects, the stanzas act as a rebuttal to the legion of literary review- ers who continue to regard McGuckian’s poems as “frustratingly opaque and inaccessible pieces with titles that give no clue to content.”59 Perhaps the fault lies with them and not with the artwork. Notably, none of the intertextual analyses presented here article leave us with the impression that McGuckian’s poetry is less obscure, or less difficult, than has been previously thought. They do indicate, though, that there is a vibrant, thinking presence behind the texts’ construction and they give the lie to the view that her work is simply a “salutary joke.” McGuckian does not select texts in an arbitrary way, and the ways in which she incorporates quotations into her work are by no means capricious. In fact, she consistently signals the importance of an intertextual approach in her oeuvre. Unearthing McGuckian’s sources leads to a deeper appreciation of her engagement with past literary exemplars—and puts an end, finally, to the lingering suspicion that her work is simply “alluring nonsense.”  U N I V E R S I T Y O F A B E R D E E N sam@abdn.ac.uk 58. Elkins, p. 217 59. Heather Cam, “A Metro-ride through Love and Death,” Sydney Morning Herald, 18 February 1989. Clipping in McGuckian Papers, Special Collections Department, Robert W. Woodruff Library, Emory University, MSS 770. Box 35, Folder 5. 
work_v7apswflovd4zni5mpeotwlrpm	----	Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture Casado da Rocha, Antonio. “Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture”. Anglo Saxonica, No. 17, issue 1, art. 11, 2020, pp. 1–7. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/as.5 RESEARCH Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture Antonio Casado da Rocha Faculty of Education, Philosophy and Anthropology; University of the Basque Country at Donostia – San Sebastián, ES antonio.casado@ehu.eus Henry David Thoreau’s life and writings are notoriously resilient—they have remained relevant throughout crisis and change in contemporary societies. This could be because readers have found in Thoreau an ongoing awareness of some humanizing/dehumanizing features of a world increasingly shaped by science and technology. Metaphors can facilitate the public’s engagement with some emancipatory aspects of science that are increasingly disappearing from the contemporary world (Pilkington 2016; Garcés 2017). Through a discussion of the bream passage in Thoreau’s 1858 journal, and the metaphors used in connection with this particular fish, the paper shows how Thoreau managed to establish an emo- tional connection between the reader’s world and the world of science, thus reuniting knowledge and empowerment through scientific culture (as opposed to the “two cultures” thesis). The conclusion is that one of the most interesting uses of Thoreau today could be the radical illustration or enactment of a wide set of rapports or reactions to scientific activities. Because his work provides a permanent resource of emotional reactions to science—including wonder, perplexity, inquiry and critique—it could help re-humanize science by means of an enlargement of the emotional palette used in scientific culture communication. Keywords: Henry D. Thoreau; science; poetry; nature; relationships A vida e a obra de Henry David Thoreau são notoriamente resilientes, permanecendo relevantes perante a crise e a transformação das sociedades contemporâneas. A justificação para isso reside no facto de os leitores encontrarem em Thoreau uma permanente consciência de certas caracte- rísticas humanas / desumanas num mundo cada vez mais moldado pela ciência e tecnologia. As metáforas podem facilitar o envolvimento do público com alguns dos aspetos emancipa- tórios da ciência, esses mesmo que estão a desaparecer cada vez mais do mundo contem- porâneo (Pilkington 2016; Garcés 2017). A partir de uma reflexão sobre o peixe-sol-bandado no Diário de Thoreau (1858) e das metáforas usadas em relação com este peixe em particular, o artigo mostra como Thoreau conseguiu estabelecer uma ligação emocional entre o mundo do leitor e o mundo da ciência, aliando conhecimento e capacitação através cultura científica (em oposição à tese das “duas culturas”). A conclusão é que um dos usos mais interessantes da obra de Thoreau no mundo contemporâ- neo pode ser o modo como esta se afirma ilustração radical de um amplo conjunto de relações ou reações a atividades científicas. Porque o seu trabalho se apresenta como um recurso per- manente de reações emocionais à ciência – incluindo maravilhamento, perplexidade, investigação e crítica – este pode ajudar a re-humanizar a ciência por meio de uma ampliação da paleta emocional usada na comunicação da cultura científica. Palavras-chave: Henry D. Thoreau; ciência; poesia; natureza; relaçoes 1. Introduction According to contemporary philosophers such as Marina Garcés, nowadays there is a wide spread reaction against the ideals of the Enlightenment, due to increasing disillusionment in society concerning some destructive effects of modernization. The expansion of culture, literacy and information does not auto- https://doi.org/10.5334/as.5 mailto:antonio.casado@ehu.eus Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific CultureArt. 11, page 2 of 7 matically equal to more freedom or well-being, because “we know a lot, but we can very little […] we live in times of enlightened illiteracy” (Garcés 45). There are at least three factors contributing to this situation: (1) The huge amount of information now in our hands, in contrast with the lack of integration and intercom- munication between the segmented fields. (2) The standardization of knowledge, in the sense of it being produced and evaluated through bureaucratic/market procedures irrespective of the content. (3) Techno- logical “solutionism” and the ensuing “delegation of intelligence,” the idea that all problems will eventually be solved by some new technological advancement. All three problems were anticipated in some way or another by Henry David Thoreau, and could be summarized in the following question: How is it that we know more and more, but do and understand less and less? This paradoxical question could be clarified by a commonplace distinction between three different dimen- sions of knowledge (or “facets”, as Baiyin Yang calls them): explicit, implicit, and emancipatory. Explicit knowledge is the “cognitive component of knowledge that represents one’s understanding about reality” (Yang 108). Implicit knowledge is essentially practical, based on “personal, content-specific familiarity” and usually comes from “one’s behavior, action, and accumulated experience”. And, finally, emancipatory knowl- edge is the embodied, affective, value-laden knowledge, “indicated by feeling and emotions people have in relation to the objects and situations around them” (109). Yang argues that people learn not only through mental correspondence or representations (explicit knowledge), but also by direct personal involvement (implicit knowledge) leading to personal and social transformation (emancipatory knowledge). He suggests that the three facets or types of knowledge are inseparable, and that measuring just one of them provides false impressions about expertise or intelligence (Yang 108; 111–113). Thoreau’s work as a naturalist is an outstanding example of active public involvement by “enlightened amateurs” who ended up making scientific contributions. However, until the first half of the 19th century natural science was a domain of specialized knowledge accessible to amateurs and interested citizens. According to Olga Pilkington (120), public interest in science remained strong during the second half of the 19th century, throughout the years of the professionalization of the scientific community. This profes- sionalization process created a gap between the scientist (expert person) and the amateur (lay person), in which the transmission of knowledge began to be seen as a translation of expert language into lay language. Translation became the dominant model approach in science communication, focused mainly on the transmission of facts, that is, on the explicit dimension of knowledge. Now we can reformulate Garcés’s diagnosis in Yang’s terms: the Enlightenment ideals are failing today in the sense that we have more explicit knowledge, but at the cost of losing the emancipatory dimension. In part, this is happening because the technological progress and narrow specialization of sciences no longer allow for the majority of the public to take part in the actual experiments and engage with explicit knowledge. The interaction between the scientists and lay people has moved from the laboratory to the printed or online page where the public shares its reactions to the knowledge produced by the scientific community, thereby creating its own knowledge (Pilkington 122–3). In this process, the creation and trans- mission of implicit knowledge become crucial factors. To test the later point, this paper examines Thoreau’s rapport to science. The research corpus is relevant because he was writing his journal precisely in those years when the professionalization of the scientific community was becoming more and more evident, at least in the USA.1 2. Materials and Methods The suggestions and conclusions expressed in this article are a result of a non-systematic review of three years in Thoreau’s journal (1857, 1858, and 1860) searching for entries dealing with scientific culture and science communication. The three sections that follow (“Findings”) introduce a synthesis of the materials examined, focusing on the interactive elements that are present in both implicit and emancipatory knowl- edge, and on some elements of explicit knowledge, such as scientific names, which were a topic Thoreau often wrote about. 2.1. Relation Thoreau’s time was the Age of the American Lyceum, an institution that prepared the common citizen to debate all kinds of matters, from science to history, poetry, biology, etc. This made a true difference in terms 1 The author would like to thank the editors of Anglo Saxonica and an anonymous reviewer for helpful comments and suggestions In addition, the author would like to thank Isabel Alves for the invitation and encouragement to discuss these issues in Lisbon, and to the research group ETICOP (GIU18/140) at the University of the Basque Country for providing an excellent work environment to write this paper. Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture Art. 11, page 3 of 7 of university formation, and helps understand Thoreau’s scorn for a certain type of academic scholarship. In this, Thoreau was very much a product of his time, an attempt to live up to the ideals of the self-reliant American Scholar, as described by Ralph Waldo Emerson. Nevertheless, Thoreau’s time was also the time when science was beginning to claim the place it enjoys today as the most reliable source of knowledge. It was beginning to be professionalized and institutionalized in universities. Following Emerson, Thoreau was aware that those who lived non-academic lives off campus, like him, were sometimes in a better position to study nature, in the intervals of their pursuits at the fields, than professional scientists or philosophers living in academic environments. “We are most interested”, writes Thoreau, “when science reports what those men [fishermen, hunters, woodchoppers, and others] already know practically or instinctively, for that alone is a true humanity, or account of human experience.” (Walden 143) In his book The Senses of Walden, Stanley Cavell comments this very passage and concludes that providing such an “account of human experience” should be the true goal of the humanities. Humanities and the arts provide universities and society at large with accounts of human experience, of what is like to be human. Such work remains unfinished, because too often the role of universities is understood only as the creation and transmission of explicit knowledge. As long as the implicit and emancipatory dimensions (conviction and action, in Cavell’s terms) are left behind, something fundamental is missing: “So long as we will not take our beliefs all the way to genuine knowledge, to conviction, but keep letting ourselves be driven to more or less hasty conclusions, we will keep misplacing the infinite, and so grasp neither heaven nor earth. There is a solid bottom everywhere. But how are we going to weigh toward it, arrive at confident conclusions from which we can […] choose our lives, and go about our business?” (Cavell 75–76) Science is the generally accepted way to arrive at “confident conclusions” in the contemporary world. Nev- ertheless, in his journal Thoreau spent much time thinking about whether a scientific account of the world could really make justice to the plurality of human experience. “The man of science,” he wrote in September 5, 1851, “discovers no world for the mind of man with all its faculties to inhabit” (Journal). The world that science was creating for middle 19th century Americans was smaller than Thoreau wanted it to be, because it left out some important human faculties. It was a crucial time because before that date, science was still an element of the common collective cul- ture in the USA, and there was no central authority or professional science center giving their credentials to those who would later work in science, often outside the universities. Thoreau was educated in Harvard and worked with scholars such as Louis Agassiz, but the word “scientist” was not of common use in Thoreau’s lifetime (Walls, Material Faith xii). However, during the 1850s “men of science” began to be identified as a distinct group, educated in universities, and in those years Thoreau observed how the “two cultures,” that of letters and that of the sciences, began to separate. It was not a comfortable situation for him, and in his journal Thoreau regretted that it was no longer possible “for the same person to see things from the poet’s point of view and that of the man of science.” (Journal, February 18, 1852) Thoreau’s opposition to the split of the two cultures is visible in his writings about the perception and appreciation of natural elements such as rainbows, clouds, or the landscape. According to Daniel Peck (65), much of Thoreau’s contribution to literary natural history derives from his creation of a new mode of aesthetical apprehension that mediates between “science and art,” “naturalism and poetry,” drifting back and forth between these poles. Against the rising tide of positivism, Thoreau described landscape as some- thing not purely natural or cultural, objective or subjective, but as a relationship between subject and object, as a process that is not independent of the observer but rather interacts with him or her. For an example, let us see what Thoreau wrote on November 1857: “I think that the man of science makes this mistake, and the mass of mankind along with him: that you should coolly give your chief attention to the phenomenon which excites you as some- thing independent on you, and not as it is related to you. The important fact is its effect on me. He thinks that I have no business to see anything else but just what he defines the rainbow to be, but I care not whether my vision of truth is a waking thought or dream remembered, whether it is seen in the light or in the dark. It is the subject of the vision, the truth alone, that concerns me. The philosopher for whom rainbows, etc., can be explained away never saw them. With regard to such objects, I find that it is not they themselves (with which the men of science deal) that concern me; the point of interest is somewhere between me and them (i. e. the objects).” (Journal, November 5, 1857) Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific CultureArt. 11, page 4 of 7 The lesson from this passage, whose main idea appears repeatedly in Thoreau’s writings, is that it is a mis- take to think that scientific facts are something neutral, something separate from the scientist and his or her values. The important thing for Thoreau is not the natural object as something independent from his life, but in relation to it. 2.2. Recognition November 25, 1858, was a very cold day in Concord, Massachusetts. It was then that Thoreau discovered at Walden Pond some frozen fish he had never seen before, which were “shaped like bream, but had the trans- verse bars of perch,” as he wrote the following day in his journal. “Are they not a new species?” he wondered, and presented them at the next meeting of the Boston Society of Natural History. Opinion was divided, but eventually the specimens were identified as the previously described Enneacanthus obesus. No matter what the final adjudication was, in the following days Thoreau extensively wrote in his journal about this little scientific adventure. Even though some time had passed, his exhilaration about the discovery is remarkable, as the following quotations show: “I cannot but see still in my mind’s eye those little striped breams poised in Walden’s glaucous water. They balance all the rest of the world in my estimation at present, for this is the bream that I have just found […] It is not like a new bird, a transient visitor that may not be seen again for years, but there it dwells and has dwelt permanently, who can tell how long?” (Journal, November 30, 1857) Thoreau had not seen this fish before, but the recognition of its presence, past and present, brings him a feeling of wonder and almost religious awe. Thoreau knows that the bream is radically different from him, and yet he tries to understand it as a neighbor or contemporary, in its own terms, “to think like a bream for a moment” (ibid.). To do that kind of job he needs more than the science of his time: as he puts it, he needs “music, poetry, beauty,” the arts, so that his anthropocentric system is destabilized and, for a moment, the bream becomes the center of the universe. “The bream, appreciated,” is much more than simply the bream in a bottle or in a classification. For Thoreau, understanding “the mystery of the bream” is equal to understanding himself or humanity, and thus it makes his own life “more rich and eventful” (ibid.). Then he compares this feeling with the conven- tional response of science to a new species: “A new species of fish signifies hardly more than a new name. See what is contributed in the scientific reports. One counts the fin-rays, another measures the intestines, a third daguerreotypes a scale, etc., etc.; otherwise there’s nothing to be said” (ibid.). In contrast, Thoreau asks himself about the meaning of the discovery: “It is not that I have got one [bream] in a bottle, that it has got a name in a book, but that I have a little fishy friend in the pond. How was it when the youth first discovered fishes? Was it the number of their fin-rays or their arrangement, or the place of the fish in some system that made the boy dream of them? Is it these things that interest mankind in the fish, the inhabitant of the water? No, but a faint recognition of a living contemporary, a provoking mystery. One boy thinks of fishes and goes a-fishing from the same motive that his brother searches the poets for rare lines.” (Journal, November 30, 1858) In this passage, Thoreau is linking science and the arts, biology and poetry, in order to get the best of both worlds. The metaphor goes a long way, because ultimately what Thoreau is after is “the poetry of fishes,” not simply their flesh, which according to him is “their lowest use” (ibid.). The means of life, including science or explicit knowledge, need to be connected with the meanings or goals of human life, including the creation of emancipatory knowledge: a life in relation to other humans, fishes, birds, plants, ponds, rivers, moun- tains, houses, books, tools, and all the natural and cultural phenomena that make up our common world. According to Thoreau, positive emotions such as delight or joy are not only necessary to arrive at scientific truths, but to communicate them. For Thoreau, the world is never finished; it keeps getting bigger and richer. This world-enlarging work is mostly made by linguistic means. According to Laura Walls (Seeing New Worlds 7), Thoreau saw science primarily as a language, and it is for this reason that he became so interested in it first. Science gave Thoreau new expressive possibilities, making visible modes of reality that otherwise went unseen. This makes him appreciate in the Journal a feature of explicit knowledge, such as that of scientific names: Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture Art. 11, page 5 of 7 “How hard one must work in order to acquire his language,—words by which to express himself! I have known a particular rush, for instance, for at least twenty years, but have ever been prevented from describing some [of] its peculiarities, because I did not know its name nor any one in the neighborhood who could tell me it. With the knowledge of the name comes a distincter recognition and knowledge of the thing. That shore is now more describable, and poetic even. My knowledge was cramped and confined before, and grew rusty because not used,—for it could not be used. My knowledge now becomes communicable and grows by communication. I can now learn what others know about the same thing.” (Journal, August 29, 1858) There are two interesting things in this entry. First, the recognition that the world-enlarging work of science and culture is not easy: it takes hard work. Second, in this journal passage Thoreau compares or even equates the acquisition of knowledge with the acquisition of a language. Of course, communication is essential to science because it helps the diffusion and revision of knowledge. Science moves forward by communication. However, according to Walls (Seeing New Worlds 7), Thoreau sometimes experimented with a more radi- cal formulation: literature and science were not different languages, but in their purest and highest form they were inseparable, they both were “simply some human experience” (Journal, May 5, 1854). As personal experience, the best of both worlds —the best science and the best poetry— would come together and would read the same. 2.3. Reading In October 13, 1860, Thoreau wonders how a person can most readily recognize a plant or flower, and he contrasts the scientific description (explicit knowledge) with what he calls “the poetic or lively description” (implicit and emancipatory). The scientific one is impersonal like a photograph, which to Thoreau is some- thing dull and dry; he favors paintings and sketches, because they are more human, they are closer to the personal reaction inspired by the sight of the flower, which is “unmeasured and eloquent” (Journal, October 13, 1860). That is, according to him, the truest description, and cannot be replaced by a scientific one, even if you could “count and measure and analyze every atom that seems to compose” the flower. Thoreau continues suggesting that positive emotions such as delight or joy are necessary to arrive at scien- tific truths: “unconsidered expressions of our delight which any natural object draws from us are something complete and final in themselves, since all nature is to be regarded as it concerns man; and who knows how near to absolute truth such unconscious affirmations may come?” (ibid.). He concludes that science without emancipatory elements such as beauty, emotion, or humanity itself, is not good science: “A scientific description is such as you would get if you should send out the scholars of the poly- technic school with all sorts of metres made and patented to take the measures for you of any natural object. In a sense you have got nothing new thus, for every object that we see mechanically is mechanically daguerreotyped on our eyes, but a true description growing out [of] the perception and appreciation of it is itself a new fact, never to be daguerreotyped, indicating the highest quality of the plant,—its relation to man,—of far more importance than any merely medicinal quality that it may possess, or be thought to-day to possess. There is a certainty and permanence about this kind of observation, too, that does not belong to the other, for every flower and weed has its day in the medical pharmacopoeia, but the beauty of flowers is perennial in the taste of men.” (Journal, October 13, 1860) There are facts that indicate the “the highest quality of the plant” (ibid.), which according to Thoreau is its relation to us. Moreover, these facts are more endurable than others that are simply data. It is as if Thoreau wanted to keep the best of both worlds: an actual world explicit, open and accessible to science but also a human world, one that is implicit, enchanted and ever mysterious. The world has limits but, according to Thoreau, they are not rigid, they are not fixed forever. By means of human activity and conscious endeavor, he writes in the Journal, “The limits of the actual are set some thoughts further off” (May 31, 1853). Thus the universe becomes “wider than our views of it” (Walden 214), thanks to “the elasticity of our imaginations” (Journal, ibid.). During his last five years of life, Thoreau read extensively about natural science. In his journal he often laments that science was led by Harvard professors who were mainly interested in what we call today data mining, extracting from nature massive amounts of facts without a personal relation to the objects they study: Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific CultureArt. 11, page 6 of 7 “We read the English poets; we study botany and zoology and geology, lean and dry as they are; and it is rare that we get a new suggestion. […] We would fain know something more about these animals and stones and trees around us. We are ready to skin the animals alive to come at them. Our scientific names convey a very partial information only; they suggest certain thoughts only.” (Journal, March 5, 1858) Thoreau complains that the activities of reading the English poets and studying biology do not fertilize each other. He was beginning to see the split between science and the arts getting wider and deeper, making the ideal of a unified scientific culture no longer possible. That pessimism about the current state of science appears in other places in the journal. Thoreau was concerned about the effects that an impersonal and partial approach to knowledge might cause in the natural world and their inhabitants: “Science is inhu- man. Things seen with a microscope begin to be insignificant. […] With our prying instruments we disturb the balance and harmony of nature” (Journal, May 1, 1859). It was not something new in his experience as a naturalist: “The inhumanity of science concerns me, as when I am tempted to kill a rare snake that I may ascertain its species. I feel that this is not the means of acquiring true knowledge” (Journal, May 28, 1854). 3. Discussion: Inhumane Science and Scientific Culture Thoreau was concerned about the exponential growth American science and technology experimented dur- ing the 19th century. Its effective mechanization of the pastoral world made Thoreau see science as inhuman. However, he also knew that science could and should be humanized. By way of contrast, just after the 1858 passage quoted above, Thoreau compares his knowledge with that of the Native Americans he was meet- ing in his trips to Maine, who were teaching him new names in addition to the scientific ones Thoreau had learnt in his books: “It does not occur to me that there are other names for most of these [natural] objects, given by a people who stood between me and them, who had better senses than our race. […] No science does more than arrange what knowledge we have of any class of objects. But, generally speaking, how much more conversant was the Indian with any wild animal or plant than we are, and in his language is implied all that intimacy, as much as ours is expressed in our language. […] It was a new light when my guide gave me Indian names for things for which I had only scientific ones before. In proportion as I understood the language, I saw them from a new point of view.” (Journal, March 5, 1858) Language and communication help avoid the risk of making science inhuman. Science is humanized by communicating it, by connecting its explicit and implicit dimensions in order to arrive at emancipatory results. That is not an easy job, since it requires an effort similar to that of learning a new language. It might be the language of another human culture, or it might be that other language of literature and the arts. The key for Thoreau is that by means of that language-learning process one should get closer to some human experience, so that one can share the scientist’s experience or feeling from the inside: “A fact stated barely is dry. It must be the vehicle of some humanity in order to interest us. […] It must be warm, moist, incarnated,— have been breathed on at least. A man has not seen a thing who has not felt it.” (Journal, February 23, 1860) Thoreau wanted warm, moist, incarnated, breathing facts. This is not the same to say that there are no facts, or that any “alternative fact” is as good as any other. We now live in a post-truth or post-factual world whose politics is framed largely by appeals to emotion, disconnected from the details of policy. Thoreau did not go that way: he wanted the details, too, so that he could humanize the facts, to make better sense of them and arrive to a more encompassing truth. In this sense, there are no neutral facts and we can read Thoreau in a more or less post-modern fashion, but he believed in some form of absolute truth. This truth was not the result of science alone, but of a unified scientific culture, the combined effort of both science and the arts (what Thoreau calls “poetry” is not restricted to verse). 4. Concluding Remarks Henry David Thoreau’s life and writings are notoriously resilient—they have remained relevant for differ- ent people all over the world throughout crisis and change in societies increasingly shaped by science and technology. Emotions can facilitate the public’s engagement with some emancipatory aspects of science that are increasingly disappearing from the contemporary world. Through a discussion of several entries in Thoreau’s Casado da Rocha: Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture Art. 11, page 7 of 7 late journal and the main metaphors used in them, in this paper I have tried to show how he established an emotional connection between his (and the reader’s) world, and the outer world of science. Thoreau repeat- edly suggests that positive emotions such as delight or joy are necessary to understand scientific truths. Seen this way, he is advocating for the emancipatory dimension of knowledge: empowerment through scientific culture; scientific culture through enlarged language and communication. This conclusion qualifies the “two cultures” position, which sometimes places Thoreau as a green humanist in frontal opposition to science and technology. This is a more nuanced view, one that suggests that Thoreau’s work could be used today as a radical illustration or enactment of a wide set of rapports or reactions to scientific activities. Because Thoreau pro- vides a permanent resource of emotional reactions to science—including wonder, perplexity, inquiry and cri- tique—studying his writings could help re-humanize science by means of an enlargement of the emotional palette used in scientific culture communication. This is an open task, one in which both humanity and the humanities have much at stake. Competing Interests The author has no competing interests to declare. References Cavell, Stanley. The Senses of Walden. University of Chicago Press, 1992. DOI: https://doi.org/10.7208/ chicago/9780226075013.001.0001 Garcés, Marina. Nueva ilustración radical. Anagrama, 2017. Peck, Daniel. Thoreau’s Morning Work: Memory and Perception in A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers, the Journal, and Walden. Yale University Press, 1990. Pilkington, Olga. “Popular Science as a Means of Emotional Engagement with the Scientific Community.” International Journal of Science Culture and Sport, no. 4, issue. 1, 2016, pp. 118–125. DOI: https://doi. org/10.14486/IntJSCS466 Thoreau, Henry David. Material Faith. Henry David Thoreau on Science. Edited by Laura D. Walls, Houghton Mifflin, 1999. Thoreau, Henry David. The Journal of Henry David Thoreau. Edited by Walter Harding. 1962. Houghton Mifflin, 1906. Thoreau, Henry David. Walden, Civil Disobedience, and Other Writings. Edited by William Rossi, Norton, 2008. Walls, Laura D. Seeing New Worlds: Henry David Thoreau and Nineteenth-Century Natural Science. University of Wisconsin Press, 1995. Yang, Baiyin. “Toward a holistic theory of knowledge and adult learning.” Human Resource Development Review, no. 2, issue. 2, 2003, pp. 106–129. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1177/1534484303002002002 How to cite this article: Casado da Rocha, Antonio. “Henry David Thoreau and Scientific Culture”. Anglo Saxonica, No. 17, issue 1, art. 11, 2020, pp. 1–7. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/as.5 Submitted: 26 September 2019 Accepted: 26 September 2019 Published: 29 January 2020 Copyright: © 2020 The Author(s). This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Anglo Saxonica is a peer-reviewed open access journal published by Ubiquity Press. OPEN ACCESS https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226075013.001.0001 https://doi.org/10.7208/chicago/9780226075013.001.0001 https://doi.org/10.14486/IntJSCS466 https://doi.org/10.14486/IntJSCS466 https://doi.org/10.1177/1534484303002002002 https://doi.org/10.5334/as.5 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ 1. Introduction 2. Materials and Methods 2.1. Relation 2.2. Recognition 2.3. Reading 3. Discussion: Inhumane Science and Scientific Culture 4. Concluding Remarks Competing Interests References 
work_vbcc7hhob5cc7du2pw5s7d467i	----	07-0289 864..865 Editorial Genetic Association Studies of Cancer: Where Do We Go from Here? Timothy R. Rebbeck,1 Muin J. Khoury,2 and John D. Potter3 1Abramson Cancer Center, Center for Clinical Epidemiology and Biostatistics, University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; 2National Office of Public Health Genomics, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Atlanta, Georgia; and 3Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, Seattle, Washington ‘‘A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.’’ —Ralph Waldo Emerson A goal of genetic association studies is to identify disease- causing genes. True positive associations between genetic variants and disease traits have the potential both to elucidate biologic principles and to lead to translation of research into clinical or preventive practice. For instance, an environmental effect on cancer risk may vary with genotype; or response to a treatment can differ based on information contained in the genotype. However, the reputation of genetic association studies has suffered because of the difficulty identifying reproducible and biologically interpretable results. Although criteria for identifying truly causative events in disease etiology have been proposed in numerous settings (1-7), we need to advance both conception and methods to improve the execution, interpretation, and integration of genetic association studies. Studies on genetic associations in cancer have been published at an increasing pace. The CDC-curated published literature database on genetic associations (8) reveals the tremendous growth of this literature (Table 1). The annual number of reports of genetic associations involving cancer as an outcome has more than tripled over the past 6 years. These publications include an increasing number of articles on gene- gene and gene-environment interactions, as well as systematic reviews and meta-analyses that integrate the literature on genetic variants with that on cancer risk. This upward trend is likely to continue over the next few years, particularly with the advent of genome-wide association platforms in which hundreds of thousands of genetic variants will be studied simultaneously in large-scale consortium studies. So where is the field going? And how can CEBP help to bring order to this increasing flood of literature? A fundamental conceptual requirement for molecular epidemiology has been the insistence that findings of a genetic association study be replicable. Nonetheless, critics of molec- ular epidemiologic associations note, sometimes properly, that many such studies are not replicated (9); inconsistencies are regularly explained, at least in part, by inadequate approaches to study design and analysis. Recent data suggest that population genetics structure, such as deviation from Hardy- Weinberg equilibrium or linkage disequilibrium between the SNP under study and a causative SNP (10, 11), can affect association study results. Thus, some inconsistent associations can be explained by a more extensive consideration of the genomic or environmental context of the variants under study. Scientists are appropriately wary of incorrect inferences because they can lead subsequent research in the wrong direction, wasting valuable resources and time. Some journals have suggested that studies cannot be published unless evidence of replication is provided at the time of the initial publication (7).Taking this even further, othershave suggested that the lack of consistency in associations raises serious concerns about the value of molecular epidemiology as a discipline. Nonetheless, many studies are replicated (9), and many unreplicated associations could ultimately have biological or clinical relevance. Thus, a simple-minded requirement for replicating studies of genetic associations is in danger of becoming the hobgoblin of human genetics research. Overem- phasis on the apparent inconsistency of association-study results fails to acknowledge the complexity and heterogeneity that underlie all common diseases, including cancer. For example, an association may genuinely be present (or detectable) in some populations or subpopulations, but not others. An association may be observed only in a specific context (e.g., under exposure to a relevant agent), but such contexts are not always understood nor are the relevant expo- sures well measured. Complexity and heterogeneity are always ignored in the design, analysis, execution, or interpre- tation of association studies. Most recognize how unlikely it is that a single nucleotide variant (no matter how functionally relevant) has a simple relationship with the risk of developing complex diseases (12). It is far more likely that many genetic variants, in conjunction with environmental exposures, will explain variation in disease etiology, drug response, and prognosis. A correlate of this higher-order com- plexity is that the marginal effects of single genetic variants may be obscured, and studies that do not properly account for this complexity are likely to miss relevant etiologic events. Therefore, studies need to be designed, executed, and inter- preted in recognition of this complexity. A lack of consistency of associations may not always reflect an absence of causative association in disease but may instead be the consequence of true heterogeneity in the effects of genetic variants, exposures, or their interactions. To avoid having overly simplistic notions of consistency overtake and hamper scientific progress, a sophisticated framework is required to identify biologically or clinically meaningful genetic associations. The Human Genome Epide- miology (HuGENet) Network4 and Cancer Epidemiology, Bio- markers & Prevention (CEBP) have provided separate forums 864 4 http://www.cdc.gov/genomics/hugenet/default.htm Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2007;16(5). May 2007 Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2007;16(5):864–5 Received 3/28/07; accepted 3/28/07. Grant support: The Robert Wood Foundation, the Cancer Center Support Grant, National Cancer Institutegrant 5P30CA016672, andNationalCancer Institutegrant 5R01CA097893-02. Requests for reprints: Timothy Rebbeck, Department of Biostatistics and Epidemiology, Center for Clinical Epidemiology and Biostatistics, University of Pennsylvania School of Medicine, 904 Blockley Hall, 423 Guardian Drive, Philadelphia, PA 19104-6021. Phone: 215-898-1793; Fax: 215-4409355. E-mail: trebbeck@cceb.med.upenn.edu Copyright D 2007 American Association for Cancer Research. doi:10.1158/1055-9965.EPI-07-0289 on April 5, 2021. © 2007 American Association for Cancer Research. cebp.aacrjournals.org Downloaded from http://cebp.aacrjournals.org/ for the publication, interpretation, and synthesis of association studies. Now CEBP and HuGENet will team up to make sense of this evolving field. CEBP has been a leader in publishing genetic association studies in cancer but recognizes the limitations of the literature in attempting to identify truly causative associations with biologic, clinical, or public health relevance. HuGENet is an open global collaboration of individuals and groups interested in advancing the integration of knowledge and applications of genetic information in medicine and public health. HuGENet sponsors methodologic workshops, hosts a published literature database, promotes systematic reviews of genetic associations-HuGE reviews (13), and convenes collaborations among consortia and networks through its ‘‘network of networks’’ (14). CEBP and HuGENet have individually and jointly proposed guidelines bywhich an improved environment for the publication of association studies can be achieved (2, 15-17). These guidelines encompass biological plausibility; populationgenetics structure (including factors related to race or ethnicity); appropriate laboratory and questionnaire measurements of exposures; consideration of etiologic complexity and heterogeneity; appropriate study design; and the correct inferential methods that consider etiologic complexity. Current guidelines, however, remain inadequate and require further development. HuGENet serves as a focus for this effort and provides continuing guidance and direction for the field (18, 19). CEBP recognizes the merit of the structured approach that HuGENet can provide to evaluate association study results. CEBP therefore encourages the publication of methodological research that enhances the field of association studies, and applied association studies that appropriately consider etiologic complexity and replication, as well as meta- analyses that summarize the existing literature. CEBP further encourages authors interested in integrating information on genetic associations to use the HuGENet handbook for systematic reviews as a framework for providing meaningful information to the scientific literature (20). More than ever, as the pace of publication continues to increase, this field needs a collective effort to establishandapply thebest set of guidelines for the analysis, interpretation, and synthesis of genetic associations. References 1. WeissST.Association studies inasthmagenetics.AmJRespirCritCareMed 2001;164:2014–5. 2. Ioannidis JP. Commentary: grading the credibility of molecular evidence for complex diseases. Int J Epidemiol 2006;35:572–8; discussion 593–6. 3. Cooper DN, Nussbaum RL, Krawczak M. Proposed guidelines for papers describing DNA polymorphism-disease associations. Hum Genet 2002;110: 207–8. 4. Huizinga TW, Pisetsky DS, Kimberly RP. Associations, populations, and the truth: recommendations for genetic association studies in Arthritis & Rheumatism. Arthritis Rheum 2004;50:2066–71. 5. Rebbeck TR, Spitz M, Wu X. Assessing the function of genetic variants in candidate gene association studies. Nat Rev Genet 2004;5:589–97. 6. Freimer NB, Sabatti C. Guidelines for association studies in Human Molecular Genetics. Hum Mol Genet 2005;14:2481–3. 7. Framework for a fully powered risk engine. Nat Genet 2005;37:1153. 8. LinBK,ClyneM,WalshM,et al. Tracking theepidemiologyofhumangenes in the literature: the HuGE Published Literature database. Am J Epidemiol 2006;164:1–4. 9. Lohmueller KE, Pearce CL, Pike M, Lander ES, Hirschhorn JN. Meta- analysis of genetic association studies supports a contribution of common variants to susceptibility to common disease. Nat Genet 2003;33:177–82. 10. Lin PI, Vance JM, Pericak-Vance MA, Martin ER. No gene is an island: the flip-flop phenomenon. Am J Hum Genet 2007;80:531–8. 11. Wittke-Thompson JK, Pluzhnikov A, Cox NJ. Rational inferences about departures from Hardy-Weinberg equilibrium. Am J Hum Genet 2005;76: 967–86. 12. Sing CF, Haviland MB, Reilly SL. Genetic architecture of common multi- factorial diseases. Ciba Found Symp 1996;197:211–29; discussion 229–32. 13. Little J, Khoury MJ, Bradley L, et al. The human genome project is complete. How do we develop a handle for the pump? Am J Epidemiol 2003;157:667–73. 14. Ioannidis JP, Gwinn M, Little J, et al. A road map for efficient and reliable human genome epidemiology. Nat Genet 2006;38:3–5. 15. Rebbeck TR, Martinez ME, Sellers TA, Shields PG, Wild CP, Potter JD. Genetic variation and cancer: improving the environment for publication of association studies [see comment]. Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2004; 13:1985–6. 16. Ioannidis JP. Journals should publishall ‘‘null’’ results and should sparingly publish ‘‘positive’’ results. Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2006;15:186. 17. Rebbeck TR, Ambrosone CB, Bell DA, et al. SNPs, haplotypes, and cancer: applications in molecular epidemiology. Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2004;13:681–7. 18. Seminara D, Khoury MJ, O’Brien TR, et al. The emergence of networks in human genome epidemiology: challenges and opportunities. Epidemiology 2007;18:1–8. 19. Ioannidis JP, Bernstein J, Boffetta P, et al. A network of investigator networks in human genome epidemiology. Am J Epidemiol 2005;162:302–4. 20. Little J, Higgins J. HuGENet HuGE review handbook, version 1.0. c2006 [cited 2007 Mar 9]. Available from: http://www.genesens.net/_intranet/ doc_nouvelles/HuGE%20Review%20Handbook%20v11.pdf. Table 1. Trends in the published literature on genetic associations in cancer, 2001-2006 Type of publication* Genetic associations Gene-gene and gene-environment interactions Meta-analyses and HuGE reviews Total 2001 333 139 5 383 2002 497 175 17 579 2003 555 165 14 644 2004 699 210 21 797 2005 983 319 33 1,090 2006 1,095 375 38 1,219 NOTE: Data are from analysis of the CDC HuGE Published Literature Database on February 12, 2007 (ref. 8). *Categories are not mutually exclusive. Cancer Epidemiology, Biomarkers & Prevention 865 Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev 2007;16(5). May 2007 on April 5, 2021. © 2007 American Association for Cancer Research. cebp.aacrjournals.org Downloaded from http://cebp.aacrjournals.org/ 2007;16:864-865. Cancer Epidemiol Biomarkers Prev Timothy R. Rebbeck, Muin J. Khoury and John D. Potter from Here? 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work_vbgwzlm2ejhelhcebesrzvqcf4	----	JMME1602-03.vp Better Mousetrap? Of Emerson, Ethics, and Postmillennium Persuasion Thomas Cooper Emerson College Tom Kelleher University of Hawaii at Manoa1 � Ralph Waldo Emerson reputedly said, “If you build a better mouse trap, the world will beat a path to your door.” In this article, Emerson’s actual quote is seen to infer a simple rule: quality supply attracts quantity demand. Such a rule could imply that enitre businesses related to persuasion, such as public relations, advertising, and marketing seem at best unnecessary and at worst unethical. However, Emerson’s logic may not apply in modern market places driven by multiple competing images. This article proposes eithical thresholds for persuasion and examines the relationship of these thresholds to public relations theory. Two case studies are analyzed in which better-mousetrap logic is applied to test the viability of these thresholds. If a man can write a better book, preach a better sermon, or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor, though he builds his home in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door. Ralph Waldo Emerson (Yule and Keane, 1889/1891, p. 88) This quotation, first attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson in print in 1889, has a curious history. It is based on notes taken during an Emerson lecture in San Francisco or Oakland in 1871 (Stevenson, 1935). Sarah S. B. Yule or Mary S. Keene recorded notes at the lecture and then transcribed the brief excerpt in their coauthored quotation anthology Borrowings (1889/1891). Although it is now impossible to know how accurate the Yule and Keene (1889/1891) transcription from memory was, Emerson did write a passage within his essays that conveyed the same spirit as the now famous “better mousetrap” proverb. In Common Sense, published in 1855, Emerson wrote If a man has good corn, or wood, or boards, or pigs to sell, or can make better chairs or knives, crucibles, or church organs, than anybody else, you will find a broad, hard-beaten road to his house, though it be in the woods. (Emerson, 1909, p. 528) Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 16(2&3), 176–192 Copyright © 2001, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Inc.. Inherent within both of these quotations, one hearsay but popular, the other actual but obscure, is this implication: There is a direct relation be- tween product quality and customer demand. From a strictly Emersonian perspective, professional persuasion is unnecessary to pro- mote quality products, services, or ideas. Quality speaks for itself through customer satisfaction, which affects word-of-mouth publicity. The sense behind Emerson’s two dicta is that quality products come to dominate the market by forces similar to the laws of natural selection. Ostensibly the fittest products—that is, those of greatest craftsmanship and stamina—will flourish in the marketplace without the need for per- suasive promotion. Thus, in a strict Emersonian-cum-Spencerian/Darwinian universe, per- suasion is probably inherently unethical. Persuasion appears to be a form of conning or manipulation only necessary to interest customers in second- rate products. On reflection such persuasive practices seem in direct conflict with ethical ideals such as “tell the truth”; “improve the lot of others”; “rec- ognize merit”; “maximize good, minimize harm”; “do the greatest good for the greatest number”; and “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.” If we strictly apply Emersonian logic inferring that superior products and services will automatically succeed, it follows that persuasive commu- nication is inherently deceptive. Clients and customers are persuaded to buy mediocre and inferior products not for the reasons they are told (“this is the best,” “it is good for you”), but rather, in many cases, to magnify cor- porate profits (Marx, 1900), growth (Galbraith, 1967), or image (Boorstin, 1972). To be fair to Emerson, he does not say, “If you build an inferior wagon, chimney, or fruitcake, it would be unethical to sell it.” Nor does he say, “If you build a better mousetrap, you need not initially persuade people to sample it.” Nor does he write, “People should never buy lower quality products occasionally to save money, trouble, or time.” Such statements seem to be corollaries to his better-known expressions, but they raise ques- tions about whether his implied marketplace is ruled by absolute laws or permits exceptions. Perhaps Emerson would have been realistic in allowing such excep- tions. One cannot be certain in his absence. However, if it is implied that his general rule—quality supply invites quantity demand—is typically accu- rate, then entire businesses related to persuasion, such as public relations, advertising, and marketing, seem at best unnecessary and at worst unethi- cal. A discussion of how Emerson’s logic may be interpreted and applied in modern marketplaces introduces possible ethical thresholds for persua- sion. A look at two cases in which his better-mousetrap logic may apply tests the utility of those thresholds. Cooper & Kelleher 177 Postmillennium Ethics Emerson’s idealized, transcendental logic may well have been more ap- propriate within a 19th-century preelectric America. In the global realities of the 21st century, several questions are not easily answered by the impli- cations of Emerson’s vision. Consider these contemporary queries. What is better? In an age of mixed yet culturally diverse values, competing product designs, long-term versus short-term needs, price wars, and a mixture of human needs and personalities, is “better” an absolute that may be easily identified in every case? Does not the current question of “What is a better mousetrap?” evoke others such as “Does better mean ‘environ- mentally friendly’? Nontoxic? More ‘humane’ to mice? Longer lasting? Cheaper? Less visible? More attractive? More customer friendly? Better track record with Consumer Reports? Instantly lethal?” In India cows are sacred, so is a better hamburger an oxymoron, or does it mean a vegetar- ian burger, or, given that many beef eaters do live in India, does it mean tastier, healthier, prepared quicker, more nutritious, cheaper, less fattening, more energizing, or all of these? Does natural selection occur in the mass mediated marketplace? Do the laws of natural selection apply in a world where artificial rules supercede natural ones, in which mass media dominate word-of-mouth, in which “image” (Boorstin, 1972) may overpower substance? For exam- ple, if an unknown Alaskan candidate is running for U.S. President with- out money, image makers, media appearances, or travel, how will voters “make a beaten path to his door”? No matter how much integrity, experi- ence, statesmanship, and expertise this candidate possesses—perhaps even with a PhD in foreign policy and 20 years in the state senate—how may he, as an unknown, compete favorably with wealthy, media-savvy, household- word candidates? Persuasion seems essential not only to counteract other forms of persuasion (such as the ad campaigns of known candidates) but also to achieve visibility in the first place. If dozens of mousetraps already have high-quality public relations (PR) campaigns worldwide (as opposed to high-quality products), how may a start-up company, seeking to obtain le- gal, copyright, and union protection, give customers a fresh choice without significant investment in media exposure? Does natural selection work in a world of language inflation? Bok (1978) and Schneider (2000) noted the pressures on professors to write letters of recommendation that inflate the accomplishments and potential of candi- 178 Better Mousetrap? dates for graduate school. If a professor knows that other letters of recom- mendation will inflate the value of other candidates, then writing an honest letter about a candidate will create an unfair playing field. To level the playing field, the professor is tempted to lie or inflate the worth of the candidate. Similarly, if several products each claim to be “the best” on na- tional television, how will a product that is truly the best stand out? Prod- ucts do not compete so much with other products as with the images of other products (Boorstin, 1972). Can a product described without any per- suasive or inflated rhetoric survive? “Perception” becomes central to the 21st-century approach to persuasion. If a mousetrap is perceived as better, why should consumers be tempted to purchase another within the same price range and degree of availability? Moreover, if a mousetrap is perceived as better, it may be purchased without any evidence of superiority. Such perception relates to Boorstin’s (1972) world of pseudoreality in which convincing images substitute for truth. Although it may be difficult, after decades of experimentation, to make yet another better soap or orange juice, it is not so difficult to make a better perception, such as that the soap will improve your sex life or the juice will keep you young forever. Persuaders wish to sell the perceived fulfillment to customers’ wants and desires. Because there is a competitive one-up- manship among persuaders to appeal to deeper and deeper human de- sires, the escalation of pseudoreality images about products also fuels the increasing language inflation. Responsibilities Such a norm of rhetorical escalation does not relieve the modern publi- cist, PR firm, advertiser, or sales force from ethical responsibilities. Each must reckon morally with the use and implications of the notion of better. Baker (1999) listed five baselines for the moral justification of persuasion. If a PR firm or other persuader wishes to be, in Baker’s terms, at the higher end of the moral menu, the firm must be at least socially responsible and at best exemplify what is called the “kingdom of ends.” Baker elucidated that the second highest system, “social responsibility,” means one has a higher responsibility to community (cf. customers, clients, humanity) than to self. The highest or most virtuous system for Baker, kingdom of ends, like Kant’s Categorical Imperative, calls for living one’s life as if it were the role model for the world. People and actions are treated as ends in themselves, not justifications for unethical means to someone else’s ends. If professional persuaders wish to be publicly accountable through a kingdom of ends, or even practice social responsibility as described by Baker (1999), they must carefully evaluate their claims of a better mouse- trap in this way: Cooper & Kelleher 179 1. Clear definition: Ethically, persuaders ought not to make claims of better without definition and clarification to the consumer. Is a better ciga- rette an oxymoron? If not, is it a cheaper, tastier, bigger, fresher, or healthier one? Is bigger better? Is it faster? Is more pain killer within a drug automati- cally better or might it produce side effects or blind a consumer to the hidden messages of pain? Persuaders must clearly articulate the meaning of better. Al- though the Federal Trade Commission and Food and Drug Administration (FDA) may legally allow “puffery,” unsubstantiated claims of better, what is legal in one country is not necessarily ethical in that country or elsewhere. 2. Scientific evidence: Although better is often subjective as in a better tasting coffee, better often implies that there is objective data, such as when a car is said to be better because it is safer. Persuaders ought not to imply better in an objective sense unless there is independent, replicable, valid scientific evidence. Whenever possible, professional persuaders should provide the source and nature of the evidence. Failure to reveal the source and current status of full evidence may lead to deception by omission as can failure to disclose the absence of scientific evidence. Such failure may also lead to law- suits, loss of credibility, and harm to both consumers and clients. 3. Context for comparison: Better and kindred terms faster, cleaner, cheaper, softer, easier, and so forth imply a comparative state between a prod- uct and its competition. Ethically, persuaders ought to declare the answer to the question, “Better than what?” It should be clear whether the product is arguably better than all comparable brands or only better than last year’s predecessor model. Is it better than similar products within its price range or best of all? Is it better than it once was (i.e., “improved”), better than it always was, or is it being compared to one or more competing brands? Or, is using the product simply better than using no such product at all? 4. Audience sensitivity: Professional persuaders have an obligation to consider the nature of their audiences. A better condom may be an oxymo- ron to audiences who do not condone birth control. The multicultural and mixed-gender nature of most mass media audiences makes many claims of better questionable or inappropriate. For example, in Fiji women left the room when TV ads for tampons were shown. They were embarrassed to see the ads shown when men were present but also shocked to have such inti- mate, private matters made public among other women. No product or ad can be better if people refuse to purchase or view it. Ethically and ethni- cally, persuaders must ask, “To whom might the product be objectionable? Offensive? Worse? Better?” and “Why?” Summarily, professional persuaders, to be ethical, ought to be account- able to consumers and clients alike. Persuaders may and ought to deter- mine thresholds regarding the notion of better by clear definition, scientific evidence, context for comparison, and audience sensitivity. Thresholds are 180 Better Mousetrap? not only based on ideals but may be established according to such criteria as safety records, laboratory testing, comparative consumer satisfaction (e.g., Consumer Reports), and relative value within a culture. 21st-Century Policy Emerson’s claims may well have been true in the 19th century and are probably still accurate in a publicity vacuum in cases in which a product is demonstrably better to the satisfaction of all. However, within the 20th century described by Boorstin (1972) and Bok (1978), and now within the even more surreal hyper-bowl (cf. hyperbole) competition among 21st- century persuaders, there is no longer a justification for the implication that “All publicity claims are unethical.” Instead the question has become, “Which claims are unethical?” Barney and Black (1994) articulated well the postmodern realistic neces- sity for contemporary persuaders. Within a sea of products and persuad- ers, there must now be an ethics of advocacy. Without advocates, current products and services may not even become available, let alone visible and competitive. Advocates, however, are also bound by ethical guidelines. Barney and Black (1994) correctly argued that persuasion advocates must, for example, abide by Bok’s (1978) three tests for deception. These three tests of when to use deception are … first whether there are alternative forms of action which will resolve the difficulty without the use of a lie; second, what might be the moral reasons brought forth to excuse the lie; and what reasons may be raised as counter-ar- guments. Third as a test of these two steps, we must ask what a public of rea- sonable persons might say about such lies. (Bok, 1978, pp. 111–112) When professional persuaders ask these three questions, they rarely find justification to deceive the public about the meaning of better, best, and similar superlative and comparative language. Professional persuaders must take pains to make sure that they are not practicing deception by de- fining what they mean by better. “Better according to what evidence?” “Better than what?” “Better in what way?” “Better according to whom?” “Better within which cultural context?” It is also important that such prac- titioners make sure their claims of better are internally consistent within all their own organization’s communications. Of PR Theory Succeeding ethically in the marketplace requires communicators to work effectively within an adversarial marketplace as discussed by Barney Cooper & Kelleher 181 and Black (1994) while realizing the moral responsibilities to society evi- dent in Baker’s (1999) discussion of ethical baselines for persuasion. The task of persuading people to buy products, services, and ideas by claiming superiority may fall within the domains of advertising, marketing, and PR. Although these functions are often integrated to increase sales and corpo- rate profits, the idea of treating people and actions as ends rather than means fits best with the theoretical ideals of PR. Marketers, advertisers, and PR people should all be held responsible for defining competitive claims, citing valid evidence, and clarifying the con- text for such comparisons. However, our final method for determining thresholds for ethical persuasion—seeking to understand audience sensi- tivities—falls squarely in the domain of PR. This is not to say that market- ers and advertisers are not concerned with audience feedback, demographics, and psychographics. To be sure, focus groups and test mar- keting strategies are among the firmly established tactics within marketing and advertising. Nor does this mean that public relations people do not practice two-way communication with strong one-sided motivations. Such two-way communication activities, however, are solely designed as means to profitable ends for the organization that sponsors them. These ac- tivities, driven by self-interest, occupy the lower, if not lowest moral ground among Baker’s (1999) baselines for ethical persuasion. Grunig (1993) examined the ethics of two-way communication by de- veloping models of PR that feature two types of two-way communication that an organization may have with its publics: two-way asymmetrical communication and two-way symmetrical communication. In Grunig’s (1993) two-way asymmetrical model of PR, PR people primarily use feed- back and research to persuade publics. That is, they use communications tactics and they use the people with whom they communicate primarily as means to the organization’s ends (usually bottom-line profits). In contrast, the two-way symmetrical model depicts how publics and organizations may communicate more often in a balanced manner; publics have the same op- portunity to influence organizations as organizations have to influence publics. Grunig’s (1993) model of two-way symmetrical communication may be more often prescriptive than descriptive in the field of PR, but it is clearly unique to PR among those industries promoting mousetraps. Symmetrical communication meshes with the third part of Bok’s (1978) three-part test for deception: the test of “publicity.” Bok’s (1978) test of publicity requires professional communicators to shift perspectives and consider “what a public of reasonable persons might say” about ethical decisions. Although this shift in perspectives may be practiced in the form of a careful thought experiment, it requires that professional communicators rise above their roles as advocates and tellers of selective truth and consider how their own 182 Better Mousetrap? opinions may be biased. Communicators who see publics only as means to profitable ends will be hard pressed to predict what publics of reasonable persons might say about their decisions. However, those who primarily communicate with publics in a symmetrical manner will have a more accu- rate and less biased perspective from which to identify ethical claims. Likewise, our test of audience sensitivities in determining the validity of a better-mousetrap claim means that professional persuaders should con- sider what their publics consider to be better before promoting their goods as such. This shift in perspectives requires two-way symmetrical commu- nication with publics. Although such balanced communication at the mo- ment of strategic decision making may be impractical—as when an unexpected question is asked at a live press conference—immediate deci- sions may be informed by past communication with the people potentially affected by the claim. The PR practitioner who practices symmetrical communication will be in an optimal position to inform an organization’s management team about those products, services, or ideas that are better from the perspec- tive of the organization’s publics. He or she will also be uniquely suited to decide those claims that are unethical in promoting his company’s mousetraps in the competitive marketplace. Of Persuasive Practice Grunig’s (1993) public relations models provide a good starting point for discussing how professional communicators can balance on the ethical tightwire between responsible collaboration with publics and successful advocacy in the marketplace (e.g., Grunig, 2000). Yet continuing the dis- cussion of practical thresholds for making ethical claims in the competitive marketplace requires real cases. We examine two cases. McNeil Consumer Healthcare’s Benecol® “Benecol Prelaunch: Laying the Foundation for Phenomenon” is pre- sented by McNeil Consumer Healthcare in Jerry Hendrix’s (2000) Public Relations Cases. McNeil Consumer Healthcare, a unit of Johnson & John- son®, hired PR firm Hill & Knowlton to “help create a phenomenon” by introducing Benecol into the market for “cholesterol lowering functional foods” (p. 283). Clear Definition McNeil Consumer Healthcare defined Benecol as a “new line of choles- terol lowering functional foods” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 283). Trade Cooper & Kelleher 183 media such as Food Processing magazine categorize this type of product as a “nutraceutical,” a health food–drug hybrid (Zind, 2000). The unique point of comparison made between Benecol and other margarine-like spreads is an ingredient called plant stanol ester. Press materials described it as “an in- gredient that helps promote healthy cholesterol levels.… Plant stanol ester is derived from natural plant sources. Stanol ester is also present in small amounts in foods such as corn, wheat, rye, oats, and olive oil” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 292). The product was described by Diane Toops (2000), news and trends editor of Food Processing magazine, as one of the food and packaged goods industry’s “genuinely new and different products”. Benecol, then, was positioned as better than competing products based on its cholesterol-lowering ingredients. Benecol was positioned as better than competing products. Scientific Evidence Plant stanol ester had already been tested in more than 24 scientific studies including reports published in New England Journal of Medicine and Circulation. McNeil and Hill & Knowlton analyzed these studies to con- clude that the dietary ingredient was “clinically proven to reduce total cho- lesterol levels on average by 10%” and that “Benecol reduces LDL, or ‘bad’ cholesterol, on average by 14%” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, pp. 283–284). The product had also been used in Finland for several years before becom- ing available in U.S. markets. Although evidence of Benecol’s long-term health effects is still inconclusive, results from recent studies clearly dem- onstrate its short-term, cholesterol-lowering effects (Law, 2000).2 To get cholesterol-lowering results like the ones achieved in the scien- tific studies, however, consumers with high cholesterol must eat two to three servings of the product a day—a fact Benecol promoters didn’t hide. Two to three servings a day with meals providing 3.4 grams of Plant Stanol Esters daily, as part of a diet low in saturated fat and cholesterol may reduce the risk of heart disease. Benecol Spread contains 1.7g Stanol Esters per serv- ing. (Benecol, 2000) Besides displaying this message prominently, the Benecol Web site for U.S. consumers includes a direct link to the FDA’s “Talk Paper” on related is- sues. The paper, dated September 5, 2000, announced more leeway for Benecol 184 Better Mousetrap? and competing products in making promotional claims to include claims about “reducing the risk of coronary heart disease” (FDA, 2000). Context for Comparison McNeil’s published case study referred only to a “formidable competi- tor” that announced a similar product in the same year. A November 8, 1999 American Heart Association news release reveals more about the competing product called Take Control®. “There are two FDA-approved cholesterol-lowering spreads.… Take Control contains vegetable oil sterol esters from soybeans.… Benecol contains plant stanol esters, which come from wood pulp from pine trees” (American Heart Association, 1999). Nei- ther the American Heart Association nor the McNeil PR team made much of this difference. Rather, the McNeil PR team planned to compete with Take Control on the basis of name recognition rather than distinctive chemical properties. Their first objective was to “establish the Benecol brand and McNeil food/nutrition credentials with key science and con- sumer media and our primary audiences” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). Their second objective was to “preempt competitive threats by being the first to capture the public’s ‘mind share’” (Hendrix, 2000, p. 284). Apparently the context for comparison with traditional margarine-type spreads was the efficacy of Benecol in lowering cholesterol, and the competi- tion between Benecol and Take Control was based more on name recogni- tion than any substantial difference between the two products themselves. Any claim that Benecol was better than Take Control was only implied by Benecol’s highly publicized entry into the marketplace. For example, a May 17, 1998 news release issued by McNeil touted Benecol’s FDA approval and referred to its “success in Finland since 1995 and its phenomenal launch in the United Kingdom earlier this year” (as cited in Hendrix, 2001, p. 288). However, both Benecol and Take Control contain fat. Three servings of Benecol contain 27 g of fat. Some doctors caution against eating this much, whereas others emphasize that consuming Benecol or Take Control is better than eating regular margarine products (“Functional Foods,” 2000; Mirkin, 2000). Another caveat for both products is that they are expensive. They cost about four to six times more per ounce than light margarine (“Functional Foods,” 2000). Audience Sensitivities Authors of the case study mention several publics that were considered critical by Benecol promoters: consumers; nutritional scholars and advo- cates; media; regulatory agencies; “key McNeil players from the Regula- tory, Professional Marketing, Medical, and Communications departments”; and grocery retailers. In communicating with each of these Cooper & Kelleher 185 publics—McNeil’s internal stakeholders as well as those outside of the or- ganization—campaign planners were positioned well to practice two-way symmetrical communication. Obviously, regulatory agencies such as the FDA had the potential to influence the McNeil organization. One issue of “considerable bluster” was the content of health claims McNeil made in promoting Benecol (Neff, 1999). The FDA Talk Paper mentioned previ- ously and Benecol’s link to the FDA Web page suggest that the two organi- zations reached a resolution on the health-claims issues that was acceptable to both. Yet how symmetrical was McNeil’s communication with the other groups in determining if or how Benecol was a better mousetrap? Internal publics were consulted to produce a book of resources to help identify areas of potential crisis, or “what-if scenarios.” And “Benecol briefings” were or- ganized to encourage dialog between “a cadre of credible, recognized advo- cates, and thought leaders” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 285) and national and international media. Given the clear definition of Benecol and the scientific evidence presented, these tactics of communication meet our ethical re- quirements for audience sensitivity. That is, employees, Benecol advocates, news media who cover this industry, retailers, and the scientific community were all presumably willing and able to understand the issues involved and ready to participate in a fair discussion of the product. A greater ethical challenge for McNeil, however, was to communicate openly with consumers to determine whether Benecol was better to them. McNeil conducted focus-group research to define their target audience as “Health/Diet Actives, a group comprised of about 40% of primary grocery shoppers, skewing strongly female with an average age of 52” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). The well-defined demographic profile continued: “Women within this category were diet-conscious yet had difficulty achieving health goals due to feelings of deprivation” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). From this profile, McNeil developed a strategy. “Hence all press materials to consumer media reflected the ease of incorporating Benecol into any daily lifestyle and the health benefit—with no deprivation—of doing so” (Hendrix, 2001, p. 284). McNeil also used data collected from survey re- search to “craft consumer messages” (as cited in Hendrix, 2000, p. 284). Given that consumers were not consulted for any other reason than to sell the product, this type of two-way communication is asymmetrical. But should consumers have been consulted? Discussion It can be argued that McNeil’s advocacy for Benecol in the marketplace, which followed product development with input from professional, scien- tific, and regulatory publics, is part of a broader strategy of symmetrical 186 Better Mousetrap? communication. Even Grunig (2000) held that there is ethical room for what he called “mixed-motive” models of public relations in which collaboration and advocacy are both valued. According to Grunig (2000), symmetry “in- volves two-way advocacy—of both organizational and public interests” (p. 43). Bok (1978) also supported the idea that advocacy, and even deception, is justifiable if all parties involved are aware of and agree to the rules of con- duct. Courts of law and games of poker are examples. Is the consumer mar- ketplace different? Did McNeil and its agency Hill & Knowlton break any of the commonly understood rules of product promotion by implying that Benecol was better than Take Control? Or better than regular margarine? The success of the Benecol PR effort lies in the fact that it flashed on the radar of the American consumer bright and early. How long will it survive the marketplace? Consumers of Benecol will have their say now. And knowing that the product has FDA approval and that no major protestors have made their voice heard in the marketplace, Benecol’s target audience will likely make up their minds based on individual taste and cost benefit as much as promotion. Nestlé’s® Infant Formula Whereas the Benecol case was documented as an example of effective public relations, Nestlé Corporation’s marketing of infant formula prod- ucts in Third World countries is documented as “a case of failed corporate responsibility” (Heath, 1997, p. 124). Clear Definition Infant formula is a substitute for a mother’s breast milk, allowing moth- ers to feed their babies using a mixture of powdered formula and water. Apparently, Nestlé does not deceive mothers about the contents of the breast milk substitute itself. However, Nestlé’s promotional strategies im- plying that formula is better than natural breast milk have been a source of controversy. The main points of contention between Nestlé and its critics are how the product is marketed and to whom. Scientific Evidence The question of whether baby formula is better than natural breast milk has been an issue for decades. However, evidence in favor of natural breast milk is most pronounced in underdeveloped countries. In documenting the origin of boycotts against Nestlé, James E. Post (1985) described the problems that physicians and established medical organizations such as the World Health Organization have observed. Cooper & Kelleher 187 Sanitation and refrigeration are not generally available to the population in many such countries. Water supplies are unpurified, thereby increasing the probability that a formula mixed with local water will produce diarrhea and disease in the bottle-fed child. Poverty encourages the over-dilution of pow- dered formula, thereby reducing the amount of nutrition the child receives from each bottle. Once a mother’s ability to breastfeed “lets down,” the baby must be fed in an alternative way. If the mother is too poor to afford formula, which is an expensive product, there is the temptation and need to place other products in the baby bottle. These products may range from powdered whole milk (which is unsatisfactory for a baby’s digestive system) to white powders such as corn starch. (p. 115–116) According to Post (1985), the controversy over the use of baby formula has brought the attention of advocate groups, health professionals, and govern- ment agencies throughout the world and resulted in a “medical consensus about the desirability of breastfeeding as the best way to provide infant nutri- tion” (p. 115). On its Web site, even Nestlé (2000) acknowledges that “Breast milk is best for babies”, and Nestlé encourages consumers to “consult your doctor or clinic for advice” before using formula (p. 115). However, Third- World consumers are not likely to purchase Nestlé products based on infor- mation delivered via the World Wide Web. In addition, Nestlé’s promotional strategies have often contradicted their formal statements. Context for Comparison Nestlé promoted its products in impoverished areas with advertising that showed healthy, smiling, robust children. They used healthcare sys- tems to distribute samples and posters. “Milk nurses,” who were paid by commission by Nestlé, walked the halls of maternity wards in uniform ad- vising mothers to use formula. Nestlé baby formula was featured in radio jingles, posters, and baby books. The healthy, smiling babies in the ads pro- vided a sharp contrast to the undernourished babies of Third-World popu- lations. “The advertising created an idealized image of what infants should look like and a clear concept of how the ideal could be achieved by even the most destitute of families” (Post, 1985, p. 116). The implied com- parison, then, was that Nestlé’s formula was better than natural breast- feeding as well as other brands of formula. Audience Sensitivities No evidence was found to suggest that Nestlé considered consumers in Third-World countries as anything more than means to profitable ends. This unbalanced relation became an issue Nestlé had to face, however, 188 Better Mousetrap? when activists organized a boycott against Nestlé products in 1977. The boycott remained in effect for many years and “many key publics” entered the fray, including “industry members, media, federal authorities, foreign governments, medical experts, and the World Health Organization” (Heath, 1997, p. 124). By 1981, Nestlé had hired and fired two PR agencies to try to change the company’s image with no significant change in the company’s practices. Nestlé eventually cooperated with others in the industry and the World Health Organization to develop a code of marketing practices. Nestlé hired an outside organization to audit its efforts to improve marketing practices, and by 1984 the major boycotts were lifted. Yet Nestlé’s management strategy was far from a two-way symmetrical model of communication and understanding. Nestlé’s extended initial re- sistance to change and eventual compromises with organized activists do not suggest any genuine concern for the mothers Nestlé and other industry leaders target in their Third World promotional campaigns. Heath (1997) documented the continuing opposition Nestlé faced in the early 1990s. Tay- lor (1998) studied and compared marketing practices in Bangladesh, Po- land, South Africa, and Thailand and found that violations to the industry codes resulting from the baby formula controversy are still prevalent in un- derdeveloped countries. For example, the surveys revealed that formula companies still commonly give free samples of breast milk substitutes, in- fant formula, bottles, or teats to new mothers and use health facilities as dis- tribution channels for promotional information. Finally, consumer sensitivities and interests were ignored. Discussion Nestlé’s persuasive promotion of baby formula in underdeveloped coun- tries appears unethical on all counts. Nestlé failed to encourage mothers to make informed decisions by clearly defining how and when baby formula is better than natural breast milk. Nestlé downplayed relevant evidence that revealed the product’s potential for harm. The image Nestlé created to pro- mote its product in comparison to natural alternatives was presented in a distorted and deceitful context. Finally, among our four tests, consumer sen- sitivities and interests were ignored. That is, the mothers targeted for for- mula sales were clearly treated as means to profitable ends. Indeed, the PR and marketing practices employed by Nestlé are far from the ideals of Grunig’s (1993) two-way symmetrical model of communication. The result is a case study in how not to practice public relations, evident in this case’s in- Cooper & Kelleher 189 clusion in Stauber and Rampton’s (1995) Toxic Sludge is Good for You: Lies, Damn Lies and the Public Relations Industry. Better Is in the Eye of the Beholder? Although better depends on the case, thresholds can be determined by considering the consumers and publics affected by a product, idea, or ser- vice in the marketplace. An optimistic perspective on the Benecol case study is that postmillennium persuasion does not have to be totally re- moved from Emerson’s refreshing logic. If persuaders consider their publics when carefully evaluating their claims of better by considering the thresholds of clear definition, scientific evidence, context of comparison, and audience sensitivities, our capitalistic marketplace may remain some- what grounded. The four thresholds offer practical opposition to the totali- tarian Image of which Boorstin (1972) warned. In an adversarial marketplace, the final decisions on which products are indeed better will be based on consumer trial. Based on the ethics of Bok (1978), Baker (1999), and Grunig (2000), persuaders will be wise to communicate openly with those most affected by their claims. As illustrated in the Nestlé case, however, the better mousetrap can be defeated in the marketplace when reliable, comparative information is withheld or distorted. This brings us back to our second question regard- ing Emersonian logic in the new millennium. Does natural selection occur in the mass mediated marketplace? The Benecol case suggests that if persuaders operate ethically, the laws of natu- ral selection will eventually manifest. Clever promoters will find a way to get their mousetraps noticed in the marketplace. They may even sustain interest for prolonged periods of time using strategic marketing, advertis- ing, and PR. However, if persuaders remain ethical in their claims as dis- cussed previously, informed consumers will eventually choose the mousetrap that is truly fittest for their own needs. The Nestlé study, on the other hand, demonstrated how unethical per- suasion interrupts the process of natural selection in the marketplace. Nestlé’s images of robust, healthy babies posted in maternity wards of Third-World countries promoted formula to impoverished women using strategic images Boorstin (1972) would likely describe as extravagant even for wealthy American consumers. And the strategies worked. Rather than losing profits as a result of the controversy, the infant formula industry continued to thrive in developing nations (Post, 1985). Nestlé touts itself as the world’s largest food company, with products marketed in nearly every country. This level of success, despite persuasive practices that do not meet the aforementioned thresholds for ethical behavior in the marketplace, contrasts with the optimistic thesis that solid business means solid ethics. 190 Better Mousetrap? Does this mean that natural selection doesn’t work in the mass medi- ated marketplace? Neither one of these case studies can provide a con- clusive answer, but the implications are still encouraging. As in the theory of evolution of species, lasting changes are a product of numerous generations, not single cases. Persuaders on both ends of Baker’s (1999) continuum may profit in today’s marketplace. Yet those who observe these ethical thresholds are more likely to enjoy morally sound, long- term relationships with their audiences. Allowing for exceptions, they will also be more likely to predict those mousetraps that will be deemed fittest. Notes 1. Dedicated to Larry Rasky. 2. Law (2000) reviewed the scientific literature related to plant sterol and stanol margarines. The British Medical Journal Web site that hosts Law’s article also includes responses to Law’s review. References American Heart Association. (1999, November 8). New sterol can reduce bad choles- terol. Retrieved June 16, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.americanheart.org/Whats_News/AHA_News_Releases/11-08–99_2- comment.html Baker, S. (1999). Five baselines for justification in persuasion. Journal of Mass Media Ethics, 14, 69–81. Barney, R. D., & Black, J. (1994). Ethics and professional persuasive communica- tions. Public Relations Review, 20(3), 233–248. Benecol. (2000, September 5). FDA today announces plant stanol esters in Benecol(lower cholesterol and may reduce risk of heart disease. Retrieved October 24, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.benecol.com/press.html Bok, S. (1978). Lying: Moral choice in public and private life. New York: Pantheon. Boorstin, D. J. (1972). The image: A guide to pseudo-events in America. New York: Atheneum. Emerson, R. W. (1909). Journals of Ralph Waldo Emerson: With annotations. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Evans, B. (1968). A dictionary of quotations. New York: Delacorte. Food and Drug Administration. (2000, September 5). FDA authorizes new coronary heart disease health claim for plant sterol and plant stanol esters. Retrieved October 24, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.fda.gov/bbs/topics/ANSWERS/ ANS01033.html Functional foods’ address health problems. (2000, August 14). Houston Chronicle. Re- trieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://ipn.intelihealth.com/ IPN/ihtIPN/WSIPN000/22883/7197/294779.html. Galbraith, J. K. (1967). The new industrial state. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Cooper & Kelleher 191 Grunig, J. (1993). Implications of public relations for other domains of communica- tions. Journal of Communication, 43, 164–173. Grunig, J. (2000). Collectivism, collaboration, and societal corporatism as core pro- fessional values in public relations. Journal of Public Relations Research, 12, 23–48. Heath, R. L. (1997). Strategic issues management: Organizations and public policy changes. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Hendrix, J. A. (2000). Public relations cases (5th ed.). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth. Law, M. (2000). Plant sterol and stanol margarines and health. British Medical Jour- nal, 320, 861–864. Retrieved October 25, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.bmj.com/ Marx, K. (1900). Das capital. New York: Modern Library. Mirkin, G. (2000, February 25). Benecol and take control. Retrieved October 18, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.drmirkin.com/heart/8137.htm Neff, J. (1999, July 1). Benecol, take control cases crumble FDA regulatory walls. Food Processing. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.foodprocessing.com/Web_First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/DTOS-4LNNHQ/ Nestlé. (2000). In your life. Retrieved July 23, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http:// www.nestle.com/in_your_life/ Post, J. E. (1985). Assessing the Nestle boycott: Corporate accountability and human rights. California Management Review, 8(2), 113–131. Schneider, A. (2000, June 30). Why you can’t trust letters of recommendation. The Chronicle of Higher Education, A14–A16. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://chronicle.com/free/v46/i43/43a01401.html Stauber, J., & Rampton, S. (1995). Toxic sludge is good for you: Lies, damn lies and the pub- lic relations industry. Monroe, ME: Common Courage. Stevenson, B. (1935). Famous single poems and the controversies which have raged around them. New York: Dodd, Mead. Taylor, A. (1998). Violations of the international code of marketing of breast milk substitutes: Prevalence in four countries. British Medical Journal, 316, 1117–1122. Toops, D. (2000, March 1). Build a better mousetrap. Food Processing. Retrieved June 16, 2000 from the World Wide Web: http://www.foodprocessing.com/Web_ First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/MEAT-4L8NSX/ Yule, S. S. B., & Keane, M. S. (1891). Borrowings. San Francisco, CA: Murdock. (Origi- nal work published 1889) Zind, T. (2000, April 1). Youth through consumption: Can food products really turn back the clock? Food Processing. Retrieved August 31, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://www.foodprocessing.com/Web_First/FP.nsf/ArticleID/RDAT- 4JZH73/ 192 Better Mousetrap? 
work_vdocwepq3re7nfhcwksjzf4zmm	----	Proc. Nad. Acad. Sci. USA Vol. 89, pp. 876-878, February 1992 Colloquium Paper This paper was presented at a colloquium entitled "Industrial Ecology," organized by C. Kumar N. Patel, held May 20 and 21, 1991, at the National Academy of Sciences, Washington, DC. Remarks on industrial ecology GEORGE E. BROWN, JR. U.S. House of Representatives, 2300 Rayburn House Office Building, Washington, DC 20515 Today the term industrial ecology is both evocative and enigmatic. Your task will be to make it commonplace and creditable. I am pleased to have the opportunity to join with you as you begin to define this concept and to plan a new and constructive direction for the future progress of American business and industrial practice. I want to commend both the National Academy of Sciences and AT&T Bell Laboratories for organizing and sponsoring this 2-day colloquium. The participants comprise a gathering of expertise that clearly represents some of the nation's most insightful thinking on issues of environmental survival and industrial excellence. John Atcheson of the Environmental Protection Agency's Office ofPollution Prevention unwittingly framed the context for our task today when he wrote in a recent paper, "There are three realities that will make the next twenty years fundamentally different from the last twenty years. First, we are learning that the biophysical systems we depend on to support and sustain us are extraordinarily fragile and exquis- itely complex. Second, we are beginning to understand and accept that man has become a global force, as influential on the biosphere as any of the other forces of nature. Third, the pace of change dictated by man, the planetary force, is unprecedented in natural history." Within this context, we must set out to solve the two fundamental issues of survival. (i) How can we support a growing global population through agriculture, commerce, and industry? (ii) How can we care for and preserve the planetary home that sustains all the activities of human existence? There is a subset of this latter issue, which hopefully may be of declining significance-namely, how can we avoid the destruction ofboth human society and the global environment in a world-wide nuclear conflict? It goes without saying that, in this convocation, these goals of supporting a growing global population and preserving our planetary home are not considered mutually exclusive. How- ever, we have only recently discovered the global impact of environmental problems and, I might add, the consensus on this is not yet universal. I hold two vigorous opinions here. It is my absolute belief that we must reverse the forces ofenvironmental degradation at work across this nation and the world. It is my further conviction that this cannot be accomplished without the participation and the prosperity of American industry. Let me take a moment to describe two scenarios. Each scenario is independent of the other; our task will be to make them work in synergy. (i) The first scenario concerns indus- try in America today. America's industrial sector is at a formidable crossroads. We are losing or have lost major market share in many industries where we were not only successful but also preeminent. In critical technology areas, those technical territories that will enable us to develop the new products, processes, and industries of tomorrow, we are weak or far behind our competitors in everything from structural ceramics to mem- ory chips. A series of responsible analyses over the past several years has documented this fact and the fact that our decline continues. At this juncture, American industry is faced with the need for a fundamental restructuring, not only for success but, in some cases, for survival. Most of today's progressive trends in manufacturing have been set by our competitors. Our choice is to follow or to continue to falter. These trends are toward shorter production runs and shorter product cycles. The trends place increased emphasis on quality, dictate greater variety ofproducts with increased customization, and include an abbreviated time-to-market for new products. Accomplishing this restructuring will require integrated man- ufacturing and easily arranged incremental improvements both in the product and in the manufacturing process. In addition, over the last decade we have seen a global trend for industry to move toward science-based technolo- gies, dependency on an information-based infrastructure, and manufacturing that is increasingly independent of raw material sources. These are dramatic changes. (ii) Now, the second scenario, which concerns environ- mental evidence and thinking. First, the evidence-the re- cently revised Montreal Protocol, which aims to eliminate chlorofluorocarbon production in developed countries by the year 2000, has further dramatized the ozone-depletion prob- lem in global consciousness. Ozone-devouring chlorofluoro- carbons have existed for only 60 years. It is astonishing that a chemical with a production history ofjust six decades has been able to alter fundamentally our atmosphere's natural condition in a period too brief to measure as a moment in the earth's existence. This is a chilling revelation. Then there are the graphic recollections: the odyssey ofthe Long Island garbage barge that carried cargo refused at every port and just recently the railroad train of toxic dirt. No further elaboration is needed. There are thousands of exam- ples of environmentally destructive patterns that are ossified in our routine lives. Many we know about; of some, assur- edly, we are still unaware. The Clean Air Act and the Clean Water Act of the early 70s were milestones of awareness for a nation that had heretofore been completely negligent of the despoliation and deteriora- tion of its very cradle. The Resource Conservation and Recovery Act of the mid 70s was a major national effort to deal with solid and hazardous waste. Other successes include the recent passage of the Clean Air Act Amendments, which culminate a decade-long struggle toward further improve- ment. The Pollution Prevention Act of 1990 is an important departure from the school of environmental-remediation phi- losophy; so, too, are current legislative proposals that would mandate preservation of the nation's biological diversity. 876 The publication costs of this article were defrayed in part by page charge payment. This article must therefore be hereby marked "advertisement" in accordance with 18 U.S.C. §1734 solely to indicate this fact. D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. USA 89 (1992) 877 However, much of that 20-yr period also should have been spent trying to change attitudes, which are always the most intractable part of any problem. At this moment, America's environmental policies and practices are at a crossroads not entirely dissimilar from the one faced by American industry. In environmental thinking, we are at a point where we must seriously reconsider and reorient our approach to the solu- tions, and we must then accelerate the pace at which we implement them. We need to go beyond the naive and fragmented solutions that divert pollutants from disposal in one environmental medium only to eventually release those pollutants in another form into a different medium. We cannot continue to lurch from one environmental brush-fire to another, as if these incidents and excesses were isolated and independent prob- lems. We cannot continue to treat environmental problems with remedial solutions such as "end-of-the-pipe" treatment that do not address the source of the problem but only treat the symptom. We have come face-to-face with the fantasy that the environment is inexhaustible and indestructible, and we now recognize that fantasy for the myth it is. We must now carry the albatross ofmassive environmental cleanup as retribution for our previously cavalier behavior. However, we also have the opportunity to avoid this same prospect as a future scenario. To realize a better future, we need to perceive our whole economic process at the level of family, enterprise, and nation as a continuous cycle that affects and is affected by the environment. We need to abandon the economic paradigm in which the environment is expendable and cost-free, some- times called the tragedy of the Commons. This change will enable us to design a prevention process-a pattern that is integrated into lifestyle, industry, and commerce-that will eventually become elemental in our societal pattern. Here then are the sites of two scenarios-one for industry and one for the environment-both involving pervasive prob- lems in our national life. Each scenario is at a moment of major transition, each is at a point of restructuring and redesign, and each is at a watershed that provides the nation with a singular opportunity to integrate the two reformations. Enter the concept of industrial ecology and this 2-day colloquium. The mere act of connecting the words industrial and ecology brings together two psychologies of existence that have, in the past, been framed in opposition. These points of view are traditionally represented by separate and sometimes hostile communities defending their distinct dif- ferences. Thus, the concept ofindustrial ecology becomes a common meeting ground. The goals of each group remain the same, simple and stridently focused. Industry must become increas- ingly competitive. Environmental degradation must be pre- vented, not just repaired. However, with the "ecosystem design" of industrial ecology, we have the opportunity to change the way we reach these goals. We have the possibility of creating a sphere of synthesis. There must be trade-offs to achieve this gain. (i) We must abandon the strongly ingrained bipolar portrayal of industry as the abuser of the global environment and of environmen- talists as the antigrowth, antiprosperity neo-Luddites of today. (ii) We must be willing to reject the myth that environmental initiatives, by necessity, retard economic de- velopment. A recent article by Marc Ross and Robert Socolow in the journal Issues in Science and Technology sheds some light on this problem. They write, ". . . U.S. business managers tend not to take the lead in formulating environmental goals and regulations; instead, they often pursue an adversarial ap- proach. This is unfortunate because they are often in the best position to know what can be achieved with new technology and where the pitfalls lie. Environmentalists are sometimes uncomfortable with new technology, which, after all, has been the source of many environmental problems. Moreover, some environ- mentalists are wary of advocating a public policy aimed at new technology for fear that it will delay achievement of environmental goals. They believe that environmental prob- lems are social in nature and can be solved with present technology." It will not be easy for either group to abandon the position and persona that define its professional place in the culture. You who believe in the benefit of breaking these traditional molds will have to carry the burden of proving the new values. Fortunately, the evidence is beginning to accumulate. We can actually document profitability from the use of environ- mental-enhancing technologies. The 3M Company estimates a savings of $482 million since 1975 from its Pollution Prevention Pays program. In the process, they have elimi- nated >500,000 tons of waste and pollutants and also have saved another $650 million by conserving energy. Nevertheless, we need much more data on the economic basis for an "ecosystem approach" to industrialization. In addition, companies not only need to understand that the potential benefits exist but also need to know where to go for advice and expertise. And all American companies must develop a planning horizon that has longer term expectations than an annual earnings report. Part of the push for creating this momentum will require environmental policymaking that rewards, rather than inhib- its, environmentally superior practices and innovation. Reg- ulations that mandate remedial, or end-of-the-pipe, solutions will stifle innovative pollution-prevention techniques. On the other hand, properly constructed regulatory standards, which dictate outcomes and not methods, will both allow and encourage companies to redesign their technologies and management strategies. . The Office of Technology Assessment currently is con- ducting a study on integrating environmental goals with industrial product design. The study was requestedjointly by the Science, Space, and Technology and the Energy and Commerce Committees of the House of Representatives. This study will examine trends in materials use and product design in four major product areas. I assume that you have heard more about this study from Greg Eyring, the project's Director, who was a discussion leader for the Materials in Industrial Processes group earlier in the day. Suffice it for me to say that the study will explore how technologies for disposal or reclamation of wastes could be comprehensively coupled to the initial design process. By making environmentally benign choices for front-end materials, by extrapolating the best energy efficiencies, and by recycling and transforming waste into salable new prod- ucts, we can restructure the behavioral process of our economic existence. Currently, America's costs just for waste management and disposal are staggering for industry and, through government spending, for the individual taxpayer. As a nation, we gen- erate -570 million tons of hazardous waste and >11 billion tons of nonhazardous waste annually. The estimated cost of managing these pollutants is close to $100 billion each year, two-thirds of which is spent by industry. This cost is clearly money spent on the nonproductive end of the cycle, both by industry and by the public. What we are trying to do in this meeting is to define a process by which industry anticipates the pollutant- producing, waste-generating components of production. Then industry designs minimization of these burdens into the forward point of production, while planning for the reuse of Colloquium Paper: Brown D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 Proc. Natl. Acad. Sci. USA 89 (1992) the remaining waste product. In this way, industry's re- sources will be spent on the productive front end ofthe cycle, where costs can influence savings instead of creating drain. The pace at which we are able to perform the needed research and technology development for the application of industrial ecology precepts is crucial. American industry- company by company, sector by sector-will be forced by competitive survival to restructure. The window of oppor- tunity exists for that restructuring to incorporate broad use of the principles of industrial ecology. This is an aperture of particular advantage, one in which we can make an informed reordering. How then do we move beyond discussion toward imple- mentation? First, I believe that induL ry must take the lead. This meeting is a strong sign of its willingness to do so. The momentum developed here from cross-cultural discussions can begin the process of building a community of expertise. I would highly recommend that the industry participants consider founding a permanent Industrial Ecology Round- table with a rotating location. Its objective should be to elucidate and expand the application of industrial ecology. The Roundtable should be composed of the strongest advocates of industrial ecology from diverse orientations- (i) from the industrial sector in a cross-cutting scope that provides the specific experience of vastly different indus- tries; (ii) from the scientific community, in disciplines as varied as ecology, chemistry, and materials, but not exclu- sive to those; (iii) from the engineering community to en- compass a breadth from engineering research to manufac- turing engineering; (iv) from the economics community to include ecological economists, who at this point are a rare breed, as well as conventional economists. This diversity may appear unwieldy, but the bonding criterion, advocacy of industrial ecology, will be a strong directive. Under the auspices of the Roundtable, companies that have succeeded with their own programs should offer stew- ardship programs that foster open exchange of information and know-how. Industry and universities should cosponsor industrial ecology science and engineering fellowships to expand the knowledge base and broad application of the concept. Let me suggest only that any discipline can too quickly become frozen by too narrow a definition. The success of industrial ecology will depend on its flexibility and fresh outlook. Indeed, as the concept succeeds, it will necessarily change its emphasis. If I have exceeded the boundaries of my invitation to make some comments here tonight, I have done so only out of enthusiasm for your ideas and encouragement for your ini- tiative. Let me conclude with the wisdom of Ralph Waldo Emerson, who said, "Society is always taken by surprise at any new example of common sense." So, too, will it be with industrial ecology. 878 Colloquium Paper: Brown D o w n lo a d e d a t C a rn e g ie M e llo n U n iv e rs ity o n A p ri l 5 , 2 0 2 1 
work_vdrfxbzzkraixew354ymucre24	----	The Bard, the Bible, and the Victorian Shakespeare Question Laporte, Charles. ELH, Volume 74, Number 3, Fall 2007, pp. 609-628 (Article) Published by The Johns Hopkins University Press DOI: 10.1353/elh.2007.0026 For additional information about this article Access Provided by University of Florida Libraries at 06/25/12 1:35PM GMT http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/elh/summary/v074/74.3laporte.html http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/elh/summary/v074/74.3laporte.html 609ELH 74 (2007) 609–628 © 2007 by The Johns Hopkins University Press THe bard, THe bible, and THe vicTorian sHakesPeare qUesTion by cHarles laPorTe nineteenth-century criticism of William shakespeare provides the foremost example of the romantic and victorian habit of conflating literary enthusiasm with genuine religious feeling. Panegyrics upon shakespeare proliferate during this period, and they invoke his “divine” inspiration so regularly as to make this idea come to seem unexcep- tional. at the same time, the nineteenth-century idea of shakespeare’s inspiration was rarely divorced from religious and reverential connota- tions. The excesses of romantic and victorian shakespeare enthusi- asm—or “bardolatry,” as we now call it—suggest the profound extent to which religious discourses have shaped our ideas about literature, for bardolatry and christianity functioned as models for one another in ways that go beyond analogy.1 Many examples of this exist, but none are more salient than popular debates about the historical identity of shakespeare that emerged 150 years ago in connection to related doubts about the historical identity of Jesus. shortly after 1850 and before the emergence of english as an aca- demic discipline, a great number of writers and scholars on both sides of the atlantic came to question whether the works of shakespeare could actually have been written by the humble actor from stratford- upon-avon to whom we normally ascribe them. The ensuing debate over shakespeare’s identity came to be called “The shakespeare ques- tion,” “The shakespeare Myth,” “The shakespeare-bacon controversy,” and, perhaps most pointedly, “The baconian Heresy”—these final two after sir Francis bacon, who headed most nineteenth-century lists of alternative shakespeare identities.2 The mid-century victorians had no less information about shakespeare’s life than their predecessors, of course, but the dearth of reliable particulars became a critical problem for them in a way that it had not been for preceding generations. in this work, i wish to show how the shakespeare question arose at an important moment in the history of hermeneutics, when the conflu- ence of romantic literary enthusiasm and historical biblical scholarship had established the right cultural atmosphere for widespread specula- tion about how such inspired texts as shakespeare’s come into being. 610 The Victorian Shakespeare Question More specifically, this question arose when the english translation of david Friedrich strauss’s Das Leben Jesu (1835; trans., The Life of Jesus [1846]) had provoked extensive debate about the similarly sparse historical record of Jesus. My first section below addresses the textual emphases of victorian bardolatry to show how it differs from the romantic enthusiasm that produces it. section two addresses the shakespeare question itself and depicts the victorian religious and scholarly context in which it arose. section three expands briefly upon the romantic roots of such interpretation, and section four upon the way that the shakespeare question forms an important literary element of what we describe more broadly as the victorian religious crisis. i. THe bibliolaTry oF bardolaTry To make sense of the shakespeare question, it is helpful to recall that romantic enthusiasm for shakespeare generated an astonishing momentum during the latter half of the eighteenth century, when a national interest initially associated with the actor david Garrick blos- somed into a literary cult. This highly national bardolatry subsequently inherited the sanction of German critics such as Johann Wolfgang Goethe and Johann Gottfried Herder, for whom shakespeare served as a helpful alternative to neoclassical French drama. in the early years of the nineteenth century, samuel Taylor coleridge and Thomas carlyle used the authority of these continental figures to bolster their defense of shakespeare’s universal genius. in doing so, they fanned the flames of shakespeare enthusiasm so successfully that by mid-century it was a ubiquitous part of the british literary imagination. Matthew arnold merely rehearses romantic truisms in his 1849 sonnet “shakespeare” when he compares shakespeare to a mountain of which we cannot conceive the summit. His fellow victorians took their bardolatry to further extremes. Many seriously advocated treating shakespeare’s works as a secular, national bible: a “bible of Humanity” or a “bible of Genius.”3 others hypothesized (against all evidence) that shakespeare must have had a key role in the inspired translation of the king James bible.4 and on his deathbed, the laureate alfred Tennyson demanded his shakespeare after Job and st. Matthew: “Where is my shakespeare? i must have my shakespeare.”5 as these examples suggest, bardolatry develops a peculiarly scrip- tural emphasis in the victorian period, one that instructs us in how to consider the religious implications of the shakespeare question. such an emphasis appears very plainly in the emergence of moral 611Charles LaPorte instruction books like Frederic d. Huntington’s Religious and Moral Sentences culled from the Works of Shakespeare, compared with Sacred Passages drawn from Holy Writ (1859), J. b. selkirk’s Bible Truths with Shakespearean Parallels (1862), W. H. Malcolm’s Shakespeare and Holy Writ (1881), J. F. Timmins’s The Poet-Priest: Shakespearian Sermons Compiled for the Use of Students and Public Readers (1884), charles alfred swinburne’s Sacred and Shakespearean Affinities, being analogies between the writings of the Psalmists and of Shakespeare (1890), and charles ellis’s Shakespeare and the Bible: Fifty Sonnets with their Scriptural Harmonies (1896). These texts reprint lines of shakespeare in conjunction with (and sometimes directly alongside) parallel quotations from the bible as though to imply their equivalence, often organizing them by thematic rubrics such as “The compensations of adversity,” “The dangers of idleness,” and “The value of a Good name.”6 Their introductions specify that shakespeare is not sacred as are the Holy scriptures, and yet they suggest that shakespeare is inspired in a manner that clearly echoes the bible. in other words, a small critical subgenre arises in mid-century to imply that shakespeare more or less answers for the bible and vice versa. one impulse govern- ing the emergence of such collections may be found in studies like T. r. eaton’s Shakespeare and the Bible (1858), which aspires to show that shakespeare was familiar with the bible, and thus, presumably, that he was an earnest christian. but Huntington, selkirk, Malcolm, Timmins, c. a. swinburne, and ellis take eaton’s religious project to startling new levels when they suggest that the genius of shakespeare’s poetry actually corresponds to the genius of the bible. such victorian bardolatry surpasses that of earlier enthusiasm from Garrick to carlyle. carlyle’s famous “Hero as Poet” lectures, for in- stance, afford but a timid prelude to the biblical parallels that would be featured in popular collections like Huntington’s throughout the second half of the century: We may say without offense, that there rises a kind of universal Psalm out of this shakspeare too; not unfit to make itself heard among the still more sacred Psalms. not in disharmony with these, if we understood them, but in harmony!7 Here in carlyle’s 1840 lecture, we first see shakespeare set (or imag- ined) alongside a bible that was increasingly appreciated for its literary value as well as for its inspired nature. carlyle deliberately selects the most conspicuously literary part of the bible, “the still more sacred” 612 The Victorian Shakespeare Question book of Psalms, in order to make his comparison “without offense”: he dares to believe that the literary aspect of the bible prepares an audience for appreciation of the inspired genius of secular literature. but that shakespeare actually came to be set beside the bible in fac- ing-page volumes is a triumph of victorian piety that outstrips the audaciousness of romantic critics. carlyle’s own great mid-century influence must have gone a long way toward reconciling the two for the age that followed him. it is difficult to imagine coleridge on his deathbed in 1834 demanding his shakespeare as Tennyson would do in 1892. neither can we imagine most twenty-first-century christians agreeing with pious victorians that shakespeare presents an admirable surrogate for the Gospels. victorian bardolatry was practiced at both ends of the religious and political spectrum: by christian apologists and by freethinking iconoclasts alike. The religious sought to enlist shakespeare in the cause of christianity, and the nonreligious sought to adopt his texts as a replacement for the bible, which they perceived to be inadequate at best. algernon charles swinburne offers an instance of the latter group. swinburne begins his Shakespeare (1909) with a telling hyperbole: There is one book in the world of which it might be affirmed and argued, without fear of derision from any but the supreme and crowning fools among the foolishest of mankind, that it would be better for the world to lose all others and keep this one than to lose this and keep all other treasures bequeathed by human genius to all that we can conceive of eternity—to all that we can imagine of immortality. That book is best known, and best described for all of us, simply by the simple english name of its author. The word shakespeare connotes more than any other man’s name that was ever written or spoken upon earth.8 This passage encapsulates what the victorians would see as the most unobjectionable of literary enthusiasms (that shakespeare is the greatest author ever) with the most scandalous iconoclasm (that shakespeare’s is the most inspired book we have). swinburne seems to propose “one book” whose value is such that “it would be better for the world to lose all others” expressly in order to disturb those who would assume that “one book” to be the bible. For by the mid-century, the supremacy of the bible was presumed to extend even to its literary value. Thomas Macaulay had famously claimed of the authorized translation that “if everything else in our language should perish, [it] would alone suffice to show the whole extent of its beauty and power.”9 swinburne turns Macaulay’s truism on its head, advocating shakespeare on religious as 613Charles LaPorte well as literary grounds, and arguing that he alone provides “all that we can imagine of immortality.” swinburne implicitly depicts the bible’s advocates as “the supreme and crowning fools among the foolishest of mankind.” Most shockingly, he insists that it is shakespeare’s name— and not, for instance, Jesus’s—that “connotes more than any other man’s name that was ever written or spoken upon earth.”10 such gestures represent swinburne’s usual desire to épater la bourgeoisie. but it is shakespeare’s sacredness that made him the ideal stick with which to beat the conventionally religious public. The force of swinburne’s irony depends upon his readers’ real devotion to shakespeare. Paradoxically, the quasi-religious canonization of shakespeare upon which swinburne depends could only occur when the bible was at the center of a hermeneutic and religious crisis, and when the scriptures were being broadly reconceived as inspired in a literary way—not as a divine catalogue of divine historical events, but as a human catalogue of poetic intimations about the nature of the divine. Historical biblical scholarship, usually called the “higher criticism,” brought this point of view to the fore. in britain, such criticism was slower to develop than bardolatry, so it was in still larger measure a German contribution to the anglophone world. For english readers, the higher criticism made its first big splash with George eliot’s translation of strauss’s Life of Jesus.11 in many ways, the higher criticism and Sturm und Drang bardolatry came from the same scholarly nexus of early romantic his- toricism. yet when these two strains of thought reunited—or, rather, collided—in the mid-victorian period, questions about the authorship of shakespeare would echo through the world. ii. THe HiGHer criTical sHakesPeare Given the German provenance of much bardolatry and of most his- torical biblical criticism, it is fitting that among the earliest records of the shakespeare question is an 1853 letter from carlyle to his brother containing the following remark: For the present, we have (occasionally) a yankee lady, sent by emerson, who has discovered that the “Man shakespear” is a Myth, & did not write those Plays that bear his name, whh were on the contrary written by a “secret associate” (names unknown): she has actually come to england for the purposes of exam[in]ing that, and if possible, proving it, from the british Museum and other sources of evidence. Ach Gott!— —12 614 The Victorian Shakespeare Question The “yankee lady” of carlyle’s letter was delia salter bacon, a native of ohio, who became widely credited with having initiated the con- troversy about whether shakespeare’s œuvre was actually written by the man from stratford or by one of his gifted contemporaries, alone or in combination with one another. (delia bacon was not a known relation of the more famous Francis, though their shared surname had the unfortunate consequence of making her scholarship seem motivated by family pride.) For his part, carlyle frowned upon bacon’s radical theory. He found it ridiculous that any scholar (or, as it were, “lady”) would question shakespeare’s authorship, and we can imagine his horror in the ensuing decades as intellectuals all over the world began to rehearse versions of her argument. He dismisses this female american parvenue with all the scholarly and cultural authority of his beloved Germans: “Ach Gott!” yet it was the scholarly tendencies of carlyle’s beloved Germans that raised the shakespeare question in the first place. German classical philology and biblical criticism had provided the theoretical foundation for this reexamination of shakespeare, and this is why the terms in which shakespeare was discussed often reflect contemporary anxieties about the bible.13 This was clearly seen by one of the few anglophone critics whose influence could compare to carlyle’s in the early 1850s: his fellow scot, the reverend George Gilfillan. Gilfillan was much quicker than carlyle to realize the potential connection between the works of shakespeare and the methodologies of the higher critics, whose conclusions Gilfillan also drew upon in his own scholarship. as Gilfillan puts it: indeed, so deep still are the uncertainties surrounding the history of shakspeare, that i sometimes wonder that the process applied by strauss to the life of our saviour has not been extended to his. a life of shakspeare, on this worthy model, would be a capital exercise for some aspiring sprig of straussism!14 in this lecture, Gilfillan identifies the manner in which shakespeare’s circumstances mirror those of Jesus, “our saviour,” and he suggests that they might lead to similar uncertainties about the limits of our historical understanding. Gilfillan’s avuncular tone towards “aspiring sprig[s] of straussism” should not disguise the extent to which strauss had unsettled the conclusions of many orthodox victorians. conserva- tive victorian scholars debated strauss’s claims with a well-documented ferocity, and their debate helps make sense of the high pitch of fury to which the shakespeare question quickly escalated. 615Charles LaPorte The religious nature of the shakespeare question was thus by no means lost on its mid-century contemporaries. it would be pastiched by Mark Twain, a professed convert to bacon’s skeptical hypothesis, whose Is Shakespeare Dead? (1909) reminisces ironically about his youthful battles with the champions of stratfordian orthodoxy. Twain acknowledges the quasi-religious tenor of these debates: i was welded to my faith, i was theoretically ready to die for it, and i looked down with compassion not unmixed with scorn, upon everybody else’s faith that didn’t tally with mine. That faith, imposed upon me by self-interest in that ancient day, remains my faith to-day, and in it i find comfort, solace, peace, and never-failing joy. you see how curiously theological it is.15 clearly, carlyle’s Gott is very much at issue. and surely this helps ex- plain why ralph Waldo emerson, an enthusiast of the German higher criticism, sent bacon to the carlyles in the first place. emerson knew that the carlyles were likely to recognize—if not fully endorse—the logic and power of the mythic argument that bacon was posing about shakespeare, for they appreciated how successfully German philologists and higher critics had applied this argument to the works of classical authors and to the bible. emerson himself openly questioned the consistency of our records of shakespeare and wondered that “it must even go into the world’s history, that the best poet led an obscure and profane life, using his genius for the public amusement.”16 emerson implies that shakespeare could not live a life profane: etymologically, “profanus,” or outside the sphere of the sacred temple. This is a rep- etition of Goethe’s idea (robustly echoed by arnold) that shakespeare was not really a playwright by nature, but a poet who simply happened to have written plays.17 The perverseness of this logic aside, its prov- enance is German, rather than british or american. nor was it only bacon who had begun to apply the methods of Ger- man scholars to shakespeare in the early 1850s. a third scot, robert W. Jameson, had published some version of the question even before bacon had obtained her letter of introduction from emerson to carlyle. in Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal of 1852, Jameson asked: Who wrote shakspeare? a question, we humbly think, which might be made the theme for as much critical sagacity, pertinacity, and pugnacity, as the almost equally interesting question, who wrote Homer? in the former case, the question is certainly in one respect more simple for the recognized plays and poems that go by shakspeare’s name are—at 616 The Victorian Shakespeare Question least by far the larger portion—unquestionably from one and the same pen; while Homer, poor, dear, awful, august, much-abused shade! has been torn by a pack of German wolves into fragments, which it puzzles the lore and research of Grote and Muir to patch together again. . . . [W]ith the German Mystics and Mythists, the controversy may last till they have to open their bewildered and bewildering eyes upon the realities of another world.18 Jameson, like Gilfillan, explicitly identifies the German nature of the shakespeare question, and his Homeric analogy is both perfectly apt and highly symbolic. it was, after all, “a pack of German wolves” who had thrown into question Homer’s authorial status. indeed, it was one wolf in particular, F. a. Wolf, whose Prolegomena ad Homerum (1795) caused a sensation at the tail end of the eighteenth century because it propagated the idea that “poor, dear” Homer was not a single individual at all, but the imagined author of a great collection of folk poetry. like bacon’s thesis on shakespeare, Wolf’s thesis on Homer was widely frowned upon by many right-minded and God-fearing people because it reflected badly upon the bible, another set of ancient collected legends. This frowning may be seen in elizabeth barrett browning’s Aurora Leigh (1856), for example, in which the title char- acter denounces Wolf’s theory outright: The kissing Judas, Wolf, shall go instead, Who builds us such a royal book as this To honour a chief-poet, folio-built, and writes above, “The house of nobody!” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Wolf’s an atheist; and if the iliad fell out, as he says, by mere fortuitous concourse of old songs, conclude as much too for the universe.19 as aurora points out, and as Wolf himself understood, the notoriety surrounding the Prolegomena depended largely upon its theological implications. For if what Jameson calls “the German Mystics and Mythists” are right, and Homer did not write the Iliad, this is distress- ing enough. but how much worse when this mysticism and mythicism are applied to other ancient texts, such as the bible? and, of course, that was just where they came to be applied with increasing frequency from Johann Gottfried eichhorn and Herder to F. d. e. schleierm- acher and strauss. 617Charles LaPorte The biblical analogy to Homer was reflexive because neither Homer nor the bible offers compelling evidence about its own authorship. Just as it was questionable whether Homer wrote the works attributed to him, it was questionable whether Moses had written those parts of the bible attributed to him. This idea quickly took hold in German scholarship. as strauss wrote four decades later in the Leben Jesu, “in the so-called books of Moses mention is made of his death and burial: but who now supposes that this was written beforehand in the form of prophecy?”20 now, as it happens, when it was first posed, the answer to strauss’s offhand query (“who now supposes . . .?”) was obvious: most of the christian world. indeed, it is only strauss’s looming presence that explains why Wolf’s thesis was still shocking to aurora a half-cen- tury after it was initially published, and why she condemns him as an atheist. by the 1850s, Wolf was old hat, but strauss was still shockingly new, and few of his claims were more unnerving to believers than the following one about authorship: “it is an incontrovertible position of modern criticism that the titles of the biblical books represent noth- ing more than the design of their author, or the opinion of Jewish and christian antiquity respecting their origin.”21 in other words, strauss’s work avers that Moses did not write the books of Moses, nor did da- vid write many of his psalms, nor solomon the song of solomon, nor isaiah isaiah, amos amos, Habakkuk Habakkuk, and so on. This logic was particularly disconcerting to believing christians when extended to the christian scriptures, or new Testament, and it was strauss’s signal contribution to the higher criticism that he was willing to apply it to the likes of luke, John, acts, and the epistles. in light of such controversy over biblical hermeneutics, and par- ticularly the way that strauss’s questions of authorship resonated in the mid-victorian religious atmosphere, i wish to suggest that it was virtu- ally inevitable that the shakespeare question would come to be raised as it was. it was independently developed, in fact, by several scholars in the immediate wake of strauss—not just by the scot Jameson and the american bacon, but also by the englishman William Henry smith in his 1856 pamphlet entitled “Was lord bacon the author of shakspeare’s Plays?”22 These three scholars seemed to be ignorant of one another’s inquiries. even smith, the last of them to publish his findings, claimed not to know that shakespeare’s authorship had ever been contested in that way. (He was compelled to say so in response to nathaniel Hawthorne, whose preface to bacon’s book smears him as an unchivalrous plagiarist.)23 it has sometimes been argued that a disproportionate number of the early anti-stratfordians were american 618 The Victorian Shakespeare Question and that this number suggests an american need to reconfigure the cultural legacy of their former colonizer. Given the number of scottish critics, it would be truer to say that these early scholars tended not to be english. The post-colonial argument applies equally to scotland, however, and here the shakespeare question also coincides with the mid-century controversy on spasmodic poetry, in which working- class scots poets were ferociously denounced for their pretensions to a religiously nuanced form of poetic inspiration.24 The claim that working-class poets must not aspire to shakespearean inspiration fits perfectly with the idea that shakespeare’s works must have been se- cretly written by a more respectable author. in scotland, england, and america, common elements of the victo- rian religious atmosphere also accounted for the continued reiteration of the importance of myth and explain why the so-called mythology of shakespeare attained so prominent a role in debate about the shake- speare question. as carlyle and Hawthorne both saw it, the most important part of bacon’s claim was “that the ‘Man shakespear’ is a Myth.” This is what strauss had so famously called the mythic point of view. To bacon herself, the significance of her case did not lie in who did not write the plays, but rather in a secret association of luminaries who did write them and in a radical proto-enlightenment philosophy that this group encoded there. Her sizable book is devoted mostly to decoding this philosophy. Given her timing, however, it is not surpris- ing that it was bacon’s incidental use of myth that caught the eyes of her contemporaries and set the tone for much of the discussion that followed. a parallel instance of this can be found in The Romance of Yachting (1848), an eclectic and jingoistic collection of essays by the american Joseph c. Hart that variously challenges shakespeare’s morals, taste, and authorship.25 Hart would have been surprised to find himself leagued with strauss, since he never addresses myth as the higher critics do. nonetheless, Hart’s work also came to be read as a form of the higher criticism: when it was next reprinted, Hart’s shakespearean argument was entitled Was the Shakespeare after all a myth? (1888). even Walt Whitman adopted strauss’s mythic point of view for shakespeare. as he wrote in November Boughs (1888): We all know how much mythus there is in the shakespeare question as it stands to-day. beneath a few foundations of proved facts are certainly engulf’d far more dim and elusive ones, of deepest importance— tantalizing and half suspected—suggesting explanations that one dare not put in plain statement.26 619Charles LaPorte Following carlyle and Hawthorne, Whitman here reproduces the logic of the higher critics (especially strauss) by identifying shake- speare as a figure best seen through the lens of myth: one dares not put into plain statement guesses about his “real” authorship. These would invariably come short of the mythology, and the real authorship is probably unknowable anyway. it is essential to see that Whitman’s “straussism” comes to present a radically different point of view from that which advocates an actual author for the plays, whether that author be Francis bacon, the earl of oxford, or the stratfordian actor who is usually given credit. it is also essential that were one to take Whitman’s statement and replace “the shakespeare question” with “the Gospel,” the entire passage would be equally characteristic of the anxieties of the nineteenth century. iii. roManTic HerMeneUTics The shakespeare question generated fervent levels of controversy in the mid-century in large part because poetic inspiration was given a particularly religious resonance by the higher critics at the same time that shakespeare was being universally hailed as the most inspired genius of english letters. For literary scholars today, the primary import of the higher criticism is that it makes it possible to view the bible (and, by extension, other sacred texts) as a work of literature. For many nineteenth-century critics, the more striking implication was that secular literature might attain a similarly sacred character to that of the scriptures. Put simply, to believe that texts can attain a sacred character is to raise the stakes of literature; it is this romantic conviction that produces the victorian shakespeare. coleridge, one of the earliest and most influential english proponents of the higher criticism, held not only that “shakspeare was the most universal ge- nius that ever lived” but, accordingly, that “[a]ssuredly that criticism of shakspeare will alone be genial which is reverential.”27 it helped that shakespeare’s sacred genius won the reverence of critics abroad exactly as the literary genius of scripture won aesthetic approval from those at home.28 carlyle defers to German critics in the “Hero as Poet” lectures cited above: of this shakspeare of ours, perhaps the opinion one sometimes hears a little idolatrously expressed is, in fact, the right one; i think the best judgment not of this country only, but of europe at large, is slowly pointing to the conclusion, That shakspeare is the chief of all Poets hitherto; the greatest intellect who, in our recorded world, has left record of himself in the way of literature.29 620 The Victorian Shakespeare Question in similar passages, carlyle even uses the Germans’ enthusiasm for shakespeare as evidence that their other ideas were similarly right- minded and worthy of attention. He was anxious to share that Herder, one of the fathers of the higher criticism, had celebrated shakespeare as the literary genius of the modern era, calling him “ein poetisches Genie, wie ich nur einen Homer, und einen ossian kenne” [a poetical genius equaled only by Homer and ossian].30 and yet Herder’s fulsome praise suggests not only the naïve, rugged, originative genius that he found in shakespeare; it also suggests the awkward repercussions of this kind of romantic ideal. For ossian would soon be discovered to be James MacPherson’s fraud, and Homer, as we have seen, to be nobody in particular. it was partly to remove shakespeare from the shadow of such circumstances that british scholars as early as the 1790s were already adopting something like the methodology of the higher critics. The critic Walter Whiter, for instance, went to great lengths to convince his countrymen that recognition of shakespeare’s timeless genius ought not to preclude study of topical elements in his plays. Whiter argued that the fervently-held universality of shakespeare’s genius kept scholars from asking about the local influences of the text, and thus from learning more about its origins. This is exactly the argument that eichhorn applied to the religiously-held universality of the bible when he first employed the term “higher criticism”: that is, that the bible’s inspired nature should not preclude it from being the subject of historical analysis. Herder puts this still more clearly in his Theolo- gische Schriften, writing: Menschlich muß man die bibel lesen: denn sie ist ein buch durch Menschen für Menschen geschrieben: menschlich ist die sprache, menschlich die äußern Hülfsmittel, mit denen sie geschrieben und aufbehalten ist; menschlich endlich ist ja der sinn, mit dem sie gefaßt werden kann, jedes Hülfsmittel, das sie erläutert, so wie der ganze Zweck und nutzen, zu dem sie angewandt werden soll [We must read the bible in a human way, since it is a book written by humans, for humans: the language is human, and human are the external resources by which it was written and preserved; finally, human is the sense with which it can be grasped, every resource that explains it, as well as the entire purpose and use to which it is to be applied].31 Just as we saw that Whitman’s remarks on shakespeare could be ap- plied to describe strauss’s effect on the victorian view of the bible, so here Herder’s apology for the local, human, and increasingly secular 621Charles LaPorte sense of the bible advocated by the higher critics represents exactly Whiter’s design in convincing his nation of the value of a local reading of shakespeare to separate the wheat of, say, Macbeth from the chaff of the apocryphal lyrics or the multiply-authored Pericles. critiquing the authorship of shakespeare entailed a real theological risk, however, which helps explain why the idea was so tenaciously contested and why shakespeare’s sole authorship has been maintained even for such obviously hybrid plays as Sir Thomas More, the very manuscript of which presents the handwriting of several contemporary dramatists.32 The analogy between eichhorn and Whitman, or between bacon and strauss, works so well in part because nineteenth-century conservatives learned to denounce the hermeneutic in either of its forms. iv. sHakesPeare’s vicTorian reliGioUs crisis The religious—perhaps the irreligious—thrust of the higher critical method provides the best context for the profound theological anxiety that surrounded the shakespeare question for the ensuing half-century or more. Thus charles dickens writes apprehensively of shakespeare’s personal obscurity, “it is a Great comfort, to my thinking, that so little is known concerning the poet. it is a fine mystery; and i tremble every day lest something should come out.”33 Tennyson confessed similar feelings to Julia Margaret cameron: “[H]e thanked God almighty with his whole heart and soul that he knew nothing, and that the world knew nothing, of shakespeare but his writings.”34 Henry James took a skeptical view of the same uncertainty: i am “a sort of” haunted by the conviction that the divine William is the biggest and most successful fraud ever practiced on a patient world. The more i turn him round and round the more he so affects me. but that is all—i am not pretending to treat the question or to carry it further. it bristles with difficulties, and i can only express my general sense by saying that i find it almost as impossible to conceive that bacon wrote the plays as to conceive that the man from stratford, as we know the man from stratford, did.35 dickens’s trembling and James’s haunting, like Tennyson’s distaste for biographical history and Twain’s mock readiness to die for his faith, all reflect an enormous victorian anxiety about the ways in which the basis for christianity, and, in turn, of culture, depended upon the uncertain ground of myth. The haunting that James describes existed in a very limited way before strauss had contested the authorship of 622 The Victorian Shakespeare Question the evangelists, but strauss made his romantic hermeneutic a ubiq- uitous literary problem. and if many victorians shared James’s terror that shakespeare was “the biggest and most successful fraud ever practiced on a patient world,” innumerable others felt anxiety that “the divine William” in this role took a distant second place to the divine Jesus. coming in second place to Jesus normally represents a real achievement, but here it mostly speaks to the pervasive religious anxiety governing post-romantic culture. victorian difficulty with romantic biblical hermeneutics, finally, explains why Hawthorne saw fit to reprint bacon’s dire prophecies about her own work’s reception in the preface that he wrote for it: “it seemed better, that the world should acquire [bacon’s theory] also in the form of criticism, instead of being stupefied and overpowered with the mere force of an irresistible, external, historical proof.”36 From Hawthorne, such caution about stupefaction and overpowerment might seem exaggerated or ironic. but if we are to conclude anything from the innumerable victorian diaries and novels of “Faith and doubt,” it is surely that such a reaction was the risk of heterodoxy for many pious victorian minds. as the secularist annie besant put it in her Autobiograhical Sketches (1885): “no one who has not felt it knows the fearful agony caused by doubt to the earnestly religious mind. There is in life no other pain so horrible.”37 What is remarkable about Hawthorne’s cautionary note is that it on some level endorses bacon’s sense of how her stupefying and overpowering hermeneutic could be extended from religious freethinking to shakespearean freethinking. The charged religious context of the shakespeare question endured into the fin de siècle, when the tenets of the higher criticism became widely accepted even among the religious, so that they no longer assumed so threatening an aspect. oscar Wilde’s Portrait of Mr. W. H. (1889), for instance, celebrates its own theory of the sonnets as inspired dogma, worthy of the martyrs that it creates. and even in the twentieth century, James would critique the shakespeare cult as a real feature of the contemporary religious landscape. His short story “The birthplace” (1903) tells the story of Morris Gedge, a hapless curator of shakespeare’s childhood home. (James never explicitly identifies his poet as shakespeare, but the conspicuous veneration surrounding him could be modeled upon no lesser figure.) Gedge, upon taking his position at the tourist site, takes care to inculcate himself in the “rev- erential” attitude that coleridge identifies as the essential prerequisite for understanding shakespeare. since this is a narrative of Faith and doubt, Gedge and his wife are appropriately filled with religious zeal: 623Charles LaPorte “He speedily became more than their author—their personal friend, their universal light, their final authority and divinity. Where in the world, they were already asking themselves, would they have been without Him?”38 it is hardly necessary to point out that the description of a “personal friend . . . universal light . . . final authority and divin- ity” is designed to evoke an evangelical relationship between Gedge and shakespeare, his poetic savior. The capitalized “He” and “Him,” normally reserved for the deity in late nineteenth-century practice, are here used throughout. as the genre demands, Gedge eventually loses his faith in the bard as he becomes unsettled by the paucity of historical evidence that he has to marshal on “His” behalf. When Gedge’s still-believing wife finally demands, “do you consider it’s all a fraud?” he is forced by his conscience to hedge: “Well, i grant you there was somebody. but the details are naught. The links are missing. The evidence—in particular about that room upstairs, in itself our casa santa—is nil. it was so awfully long ago.”39 The point is not that Gedge becomes a rebellious apostate, exactly, but that he becomes a shakespearean agnostic. “[T]he details,” as he puts it, “are naught.” This passage, and indeed the whole story, is designed to remind readers of post-strauss- ian novels from James anthony Froude’s Nemesis of Faith (1849) to Mary augusta Ward’s Robert Elsmere (1888). and this passage, too, could be transposed wholesale to any number of nineteenth-century narratives or applied to christ’s birth instead of shakespeare’s. Gedge’s final insistence upon “evidence” above all recalls the central crisis of Ward’s religious novel, for instance, when the eponymous hero comes to see that the evangelists’ notion of evidence (upon which christian- ity might be judged to depend) could differ from that of the modern scholar. as elsmere’s skeptical antagonist puts it at the crisis of the novel: “[T]he great want of modern [biblical] scholarship . . . is a His- tory of evidence, or rather, more strictly, ‘a History of Testimony.’”40 reading “The birthplace” from the context of such Faith and doubt fiction brings home the breadth of victorian anxiety about narratives of religious origins. it may seem excessive to imply, as James does, that shakespearean zealots actually enjoyed a sort of evangelical relationship with him, or that doubters underwent the kind of faith crises that we believe many victorian clergy did in the wake of the higher criticism. yet James’s Gedge is clearly modeled on the real figure of Joseph skipsey, a northumberland-born working-class poet whose position as curator of the shakespeare house in stratford was apparently secured for him 624 The Victorian Shakespeare Question by the influence of edward burne-Jones. skipsey resigned this post in 1891, later citing that i had gradually lost faith in the so-called relics which it was the duty of the custodian to show. . . . This loss of faith was the result of a long and severe inquiry into which i was driven by questions from time to time put to my wife and me by intelligent visitors; and the effect of it on myself was such as almost to cause a paralysis of the brain.41 skipsey represents a classic case of the famous victorian “loss of faith,” and by 1891 this ailment was so well established as a literary and cultural trope that one could hardly expect him to describe his disillusionment in any other terms. To say so is not to make light of skipsey’s shakespearean religious crisis. nor is it to suggest that his “paralysis of the brain” was any less real for its resemblance to nu- merous victorian fictional heroes. it is rather to show that bardolatry had a religious weight with its victorian practitioners and that this weight could be heavy indeed. and on no one did the burden of shakespearean heterodoxy hang heavier than on bacon. like strauss before her, she was vilified for her iconoclasm nearly as soon as her theories appeared in print. For her, the pressure was such that her mind gave way, and she was institutionalized for the remaining two years of her life.42 To borrow the expression of her rival Jameson, the controversy made her “open [her] bewildered and bewildering eyes upon the realities of another world.” clearly, victorian religious controversy established many of the terms in which the shakespeare question was debated, including its existence in the first place. and the life of bacon’s controversy out- lives her still; it has lasted much longer than its nineteenth-century doubters imagined could be the case. This is perhaps the final way in which it mirrors victorian biblical controversies. Mainstream nine- teenth-century shakespeare scholars generally presumed that bacon’s doubts about shakespeare’s identity would be quickly put to rest, just as conservative christians hoped that the higher criticism would be exploded. on the other hand, victorian baconians felt confident that shakespeare’s long-held disguise was crumbling, just as liberal adher- ents to the higher criticism assumed that the literal interpretation of the bible would soon disappear altogether. none of these disappearances have taken place, and the victorian drama continues to shape both biblical and shakespearean interpretation for enormous numbers of people. Twenty-first-century doubters of shakespeare’s history, such as 625Charles LaPorte those associated with the oxford shakespeare society, tend no longer to feel the heterodox religious zeal evidenced by earlier proponents of the shakespeare question. (even twentieth-century pioneers of the oxford hypothesis claimed to have written at the “urge of some higher power.”)43 yet anti-stratfordians still regularly depict university english faculty as a sort of morally-bankrupted clergy determined to defend their stratford bard against extensive evidence of his inauthenticity. such mistrust of an academic clerisy derives from a religious history that predates english departments. The victorian religious atmosphere, in other words, brought to life problems of historical and literary herme- neutics that are not easily dispelled. and the translation of strauss’s Life of Jesus stands as an important monument in this religious his- tory. it became the model for the type of romantic hermeneutics that made speculation about authorship a necessary part of understanding sacred texts. it deeply unnerved the victorians, and the shakespeare question arose quickly in its wake. University of Washington noTes Thanks to the curators of the crosby shakespeare collection at the University of Michigan, especially kathryn beam, for their assistance with material featured in this essay. Thanks to Joel Moore, Jason rudy, and Mark schoenfield for helpful comments on drafts. and thanks to the participants of the northeast victorian studies associa- tion 2004 conference, “The sacred and the Profane,” for an encouraging response to its earliest version. 1 see robert Witbeck babcock, The Genesis of Shakespeare Idolatry: 1766–1799 (new york: russell and russell, 1964); Péter dávidházi, The Romantic Cult of Shakespeare (new york: st. Martin’s, 1998); Howard Felperin, “bardolatry Then and now,” in The Appropriation of Shakespeare, ed. Jean i. Marsden (new york: Harvester, 1992), 129–44; Graham Holderness, “bardolatry; or, the cultural Materialist’s Guide to strat- ford-Upon-avon,” in The Shakespeare Myth, ed. Holderness (Manchester: Manchester Univ. Press, 1988), 2–15; louis Marder, His Exits and His Entrances: The Story of Shakespeare’s Reputation (new york: J. b. lippincott, 1963); and s. schoenbaum, Shakespeare’s Lives (oxford: clarendon Press, 1991). 2 other popular candidates include christopher Marlowe, sir Walter raleigh, edmund spenser, the earl of rutland, the earl of derby, and, later, the earl of oxford. The best summaries of the shakespeare question are in Marder; shoenbaum; and Frank W. Wadsworth, The Poacher from Stratford (berkeley: Univ. of california Press, 1958). 3 Joss Marsh, Word Crimes: Blasphemy, Culture, and Literature in Nineteenth-Cen- tury England (chicago: Univ. of chicago Press, 1998), 112. see also Marder, 18–19. 4 see david norton, A History of the English Bible as Literature (cambridge: cam- bridge Univ. Press, 2000), 405–6. 5 This pious gesture is cited approvingly by his son in The Works of Tennyson, ed. Hallam Tennyson (new york: MacMillan, 1913), lvii. For more on this episode, see 626 The Victorian Shakespeare Question christopher decker, “shakespeare and the death of Tennyson,” in Victorian Shake- speare, ed. Gail Marshall and adrian Poole (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003), 131–49. 6 J. b. selkirk, Bible Truths with Shakespearean Parallels (london: Whittaker and co., 1862), 2. 7 Thomas carlyle, On Heroes, Hero-Worship and the Heroic in History (london: chapman and Hall, 1897), 111. 8 algernon charles swinburne, Shakespeare (london: oxford Univ. Press, 1909), 5–6. 9 Thomas Macaulay, quoted in The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, 3rd ed. (oxford: oxford Univ. Press, 1979), 323. 10 This line seems calculated to contradict favorite scripture passages among evan- gelicals, for example Philippians 2:9–10: “Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him, and given him a name which is above every name: / That at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth” (kJv). 11 There was, of course, a parallel higher critical tradition in britain, but on a much smaller scale. strauss’s translation generated far more discussion than had the higher criticism of native writers like charles christian Hennell. 12 Thomas carlyle to John a. carlyle, 13 June 1853, in The Collected Letters of Thomas and Jane Welsh Carlyle, ed. kenneth J. Fielding and others, 34 vols. (dur- ham: duke Univ. Press, 2000), 28:171–72. Thanks to the authors of The Shakespeare Controversy for calling this and some of the following quotations to my attention. see Warren Hope and kim Holston, The Shakespeare Controversy (Jefferson, nc: McFarland & co., 1992). 13 Felperin remarks that “the heretical historicism and textualism [the baconians] practise actually parallel and parody those forms of critical attention focused on the bible itself in the same period. The rise of anti-stratfordian speculation in the later nineteenth century coincides with the rise of what has been termed ‘critical history’ in the new Testament” (136). it seems a mistake to view the relationship between anti-stratfordians and biblical critics as one of parody, though, since the criticism of both schools was primarily amateur throughout the mid-century in both britain and america. 14 George Gilfillan, “shakespeare—a lecture,” in A Third Gallery of Portraits (new york: sheldon, lamport and blakeman, 1955), 439. 15 Mark Twain, 1601, and Is Shakespeare Dead? ed. shelley Fisher Fishkin (oxford: oxford Univ. Press, 1996), 11–12. 16 ralph Waldo emerson, Representative Men, in Ralph Waldo Emerson, ed. richard Poirier (oxford: oxford Univ. Press, 1990), 342. 17 see Matthew arnold, Essays Religious and Mixed, in Complete Prose Works of Matthew Arnold, ed. r. H. super (ann arbor: Univ. of Michigan Press, 1960), 245. 18 [robert W. Jameson], “Who Wrote shakspeare?” Chambers’ Edinburgh Journal, n.s., no. 449 (1852): 87. 19 elizabeth barrett browning, Aurora Leigh, ed. Margaret reynolds (new york: norton, 1996), book 5, lines 1246–49, 1254–57. 20 david Friedrich strauss, The Life of Jesus, Critically Examined, trans. George eliot, 3 vols. (1846; repr., bristol: Thoemmes Press, 1998), 1:56. 21 strauss, 1:56–57. 627Charles LaPorte 22 see William Henry smith, “Was lord bacon the author of shakspeare’s Plays? a letter to lord ellesmere,” The Panorama of Life and Literature (January 1857): 12–16. 23 “an english writer . . . has thought it not inconsistent with fair-play, on which his country prides itself, to take to himself this lady’s theory, and favor the public with it as his own original conception, without allusion to the author’s prior claim” (nathaniel Hawthorne, preface to The Philosophy of the Plays of Shakspere Unfolded, by delia bacon [london: Groombridge and sons, 1857], xii–xiii). 24 Gilfillan, for instance, was deeply invested in the prospects of the spasmodic poets in addition to being among the first to articulate the shakespeare question. see richard cronin, “The spasmodics,” in A Companion to Victorian Poetry, ed. alison chapman, cronin, and antony Harrison (oxford: blackwell, 2002), 290–304; and charles laPorte and Jason r. rudy, ed., Spasmodic Poetry and Poetics, special issue, Victorian Poetry 42.4 (2004). 25 kim c. sturgess identifies Hart as the initiator of the shakespeare question, but Hart’s is an entirely different sort of thesis from the one proposed by Gilfillan, bacon, Jameson, and smith. Hart maintains only that shakespeare of stratford stole his principal plots and characters, whereas his critical contemporaries from bacon onward conceive of shakespeare’s name as itself an alias or allonym. Further, and crucially, bacon’s theory circulated far more widely than Hart’s, which is why the shakespeare question is nearly always first associated with her. see Joseph c. Hart, The Romance of Yachting: Voyage the First (new york: Harper & brothers, 1848); and kim c. sturgess, Shakespeare and the American Nation (cambridge: cambridge Univ. Press, 2004), 168. 26 Walt Whitman, November Boughs, in The Works of Walt Whitman, ed. Malcolm cowley, 2 vols. (new york: Funk & Wagnalls, 1948), 2:404. 27 samuel Taylor coleridge, “shakspeare a poet generally,” in The Literary Remains of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ed. Henry nelson coleridge, 4 vols. (london: William Pickering, 1836), 2:62. 28 norton maintains that it is the prestige of shakespeare, in fact, that raises the literary opinion of the king James translation to the bibliolatrous levels that it attains during the nineteenth century. see norton, 302–3. 29 Thomas carlyle, On Heroes, 103. 30 Johann Gottfried Herder, “allgemeine deutsche bibliothek,” in Shakespeare in Germany: 1740–1815, ed. r. Pascal (cambridge: cambridge Univ. Press, 1937), 73; my translation. 31 Herder, Theologische Schriften, in Johann Gottfried Herder Werke, ed. christoph bultmann and Thomas Zippert (Frankfurt: deutscher klassiker verlag, 1994), 145; my translation. Thanks to daniel Wiedner and stephan Jaeger for directing me to this text, and to andreea boboc for help with my translation. 32 brian vickers offers a startlingly recent instance of this in relation to a stylometrist trained in the scholarly tradition of the higher critic F. c. baur. see vickers, Shake- speare, Co-Author (oxford: oxford Univ. Press, 2002). 33 charles dickens to William sandys, 13 June 184[3], in The Pilgrim Edition: The Letters of Charles Dickens, ed. Graham storey and k. J. Fielding, 12 vols. (oxford: clarendon Press, 1981), 3:512. The date of dickens’s letter poses a scholarly question. The Ms is lost, and the 1880 Letters dates it 13 June 1847. see Georgina Hogarth and Mamie dickens, ed., The Letters of Charles Dickens, 2nd ed., 2 vols. (london: chapman and Hall, 1880), 1:178–79. More recently, the editors of the oxford Pilgrim Edition have decided upon internal evidence that “1847” seems to be a misreading 628 The Victorian Shakespeare Question of “1843.” Thanks to Margaret brown, associate editor of the oxford Letters, for her correspondence on this matter. 34 Julia Margaret cameron to sir Henry Taylor, ca. 29 november 1862, in Letters of Alfred, Lord Tennyson, 3 vols. (cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1981), 2:319. 35 Henry James to violet Hunt, 26 august 1903, in Letters of Henry James, ed. Percy lubbock, 2 vols. (new york: charles scribner’s sons, 1920), 1:424. For unexplained reasons, leon edel reproduces this quotation only partially, and in a footnote. see edel, ed., Henry James Letters, 4 vols. (cambridge: Harvard Univ. Press, 1984), 4:281. 36 Hawthorne, viii. 37 annie besant, Autobiographical Sketches (london: Freethought Publishing, 1885), 54. 38 James, “The birthplace,” in The Aspern Papers and Other Stories (köln: köne- mann, 1998), 344. 39 James, “The birthplace,” 362. 40 Mrs. Humphry Ward, Robert Elsmere, ed. clyde de l. ryals (lincoln: Univ. of nebraska Press, 1967), 314. James wrote Ward to express his admiration of this par- ticular novel, calling it “a beautiful book” (quoted in Ward, vii). 41 Joseph skipsey, quoted in J. cuming Walters, “The shakespeare relics at stratford,” London Times, 8 september 1903, 5. 42 see Wadsworth, 34–35. For Hawthorne’s account, see Martin Pares, A Pioneer: In Memory of Delia Bacon (london: rydall Press, 1958), 47–49. 43 Percy allen, quoted in Marder, 167. 
work_vhezzjjcbzgzvjqtn2ix7bgrxe	----	William Strauss; Neil Howe, The fourth turning: What the cycles of history tell us about America’s next rendezvous with destiny, Editura Three Rivers Press, New York, 1997, 398 p. Neil Howe (1951–) este un istoric și un economist american, absolvent în istorie și economie al Universității Yale. Are o activi- tate profesională de consultant în marketing, în resurse umane și de planificare strategică. Este co-fondator al „LifeCourse Associates”, asociat la „Center for Strategic and Internati- onal Studies” unde este implicat în conduce- rea CSIS „Global Aging Initiative” și consi- lier principal al „Coaliției Concord” care abordează aspecte precum schimbările de ge- nerații din istoria americană sau politica fis- cală pe termen lung. A coautorat șase cărți cu William Strauss printre care amintim: „Ge- nerations” (1991), „13th Gen” (1993), „The Fourth Turning” (1997) și „Millennials Ri- sing” (2000). Alte cărți coautorate de Howe sunt „On Borrowed Time” (1988), „Mil- lennials Go to College” (2007) și „Millenni- als at the Workplace” (2010). Howe este de asemenea un expert pe probleme demogra- fice și un teoretician important al „generații- lor”. William Strauss (1947–2007) a fost autor american, istoric, dramaturg, director de tea- tru și lector. Ca istoric, el este cunoscut pen- tru munca sa cu Neil Howe despre generațiile sociale și pentru teoria generației Strauss- Howe. Deși prima ediție a cărții a fost publicată în 1997, actualitatea acesteia constă în prefi- gurarea evenimentelor din SUA care au înce- put cu criza economică din 2008 și care con- tinuă cu instaurarea administrației Trump propulsată la guvernare ca urmare a unui val de reacție socială populistă. Mai mult, consi- der că această carte are o semnificație aparte pentru clarificarea fundamentelor ideologice ale mișcării populiste în fruntea căreia se află președintele american Donald Trump. Mișcările populiste sunt structuri ideolo- gice ce au nevoie de elite care să definească și să explice clivajele din societate și să ofere soluții politice la problemele sociale ridicate de acestea. Deși Trump a candidat la președinție din partea Partidului Republican, din punct de vedere ideologic acesta nu reprezintă conser- vatorismul ce a caracterizat ultimele două mari perioade prezidențiale republicane (Reagan și Bush). Din punct de vedere ideo- logic, Trump, un fost donator al partidului Democrat, prezintă un amestec de cosmopo- litism, caracteristic marilor metropole de pe coasta de est, cu un soi de naționalism pro- tecționist. Aceste poziții ideologice, pe care le-a manifestat în public de mai multe ori în decursul carierei sale ultra-mediatizate, par la prima vedere antagonice însă ele se com- bină fără probleme în personalitatea oportu- nistă a președintelui american. Om de afaceri din domeniul imobiliare- lor, personalitate tv, Trump nu citește, nu este un erudit în politică, istorie sau economie, nu are stofă de ideolog. Instinctele sale naționa- liste au fost canalizate spre un discurs națio- nalist-populist, de către o serie de personaje considerate marginale în spațiul politic sau academic american. Un orator peste medie, Trump a exprimat în campania electorală idei politice ce vizau recalibrarea relațiilor internaționale ale SUA, repatrierea locurilor de muncă din industrie, limitarea imigrației, revigorarea socială, eco- nomică și politică a clasei „uitate” formată în cea mai mare parte din populația albă ce și-a pierdut statusul social și economic în urma „marii deschideri” economice spre Asia în- cepută de președintele Nixon, accelerată de președinții Clinton și Bush jr., și a instaurării 186 Recenzii acordului de liber schimb nord-american (NAFTA) la mijlocul anilor ’90. Trump a avut o serie de convingeri proprii, cristalizate înaintea campaniei electorale, precum consi- derarea relațiilor comerciale cu China și NAFTA sau participarea SUA în diverse ali- anțe sau conflicte militare ca și contrare cu interesele SUA. Dacă față de problemele politice ce vizau relațiile externe ale SUA miliardarul ameri- can avea o anumită afinitate, problema „cla- sei uitate” i-a fost sugerată ca temă de cam- panie de către cel mai important personaj al campaniei electorale și a începutului admi- nistrației Trump: Stephen (Steve) K. Ban- non. Steve Bannon, fost căpitan în marina americană, bancher la Goldman-Sachs, pro- ducător de filme la Hollywood, a intrat în spațiul politic și jurnalistic din SUA prin in- termediul site-ul politic Breitbart.com pe care l-a condus până l-a intrarea sa pe post de șef de campanie a lui Trump urmând să facă apoi parte din administrația prezidențială pe post de „strateg principal”. Bannon a regizat două filme documen- tare intitulate „Generation Zero”, difuzat în 2010, și „The Undefeated”, ce a fost difuzat în 2011, ambele conținând indicii cu privire la viziunea și viitoarele acțiuni politice ale acestuia. Filmul „The Undefeated” a vizat cariera guvernatorului statului Alaska, Sarah Palin, personalitate importantă a Partidului Republican a cărei carieră politică a culminat cu candidatura la postul de vicepreședinte al SUA alături de fostul senator american John McCain în alegerile din 2008. Palin a repre- zentat mișcarea „tea party” o mișcare neo- conservatoare în cadrul republicanismului american, menită să revigoreze responsabili- tatea fiscală, spiritul patriotic și moral al Par- tidului Republican. Bannon a susținut mișca- rea „tea party” pe care a considerat-o un model de revoltă împotriva elitei politice (es- tablishment eng.) republicane, pe care o con- sidera coruptă, promovatoare de politici eco- nomice și strategii internaționale contrare cu interesele SUA. Dacă în mișcarea „tea party” Bannon a identificat un mijloc de acțiune politică, în documentarul „Generation Zero” Bannon va revela clivajele principale pe care le va pune în centrul ideologiei sale. Documentarul rea- lizat de Bannon are două teme principale: critica situației care a generat marea criză din 2008, precum și măsurile luate de către elita politică americană în vederea soluționării crizei. Toate aceste aspecte sunt abordate de Bannon din perspectiva teoriei asupra istoriei prezentată de Strauss și Howe în cartea ce face obiectul recenziei. Cartea este structurată pe trei părți la care se adaugă un capitol introductiv. Intitulat „Iarna se întoarce” („Winter Comes Again” eng.), capitolul introductiv prefațează „pro- feția” cu privire la viitorul SUA și teoria pe care se fundamentează acest demers futuro- logic. „Profeția” vizează o perioadă de criză majoră prin care SUA va trece în mod inevi- tabil începând cu a doua jumătate a primului deceniu din secolul XXI. Autorii pornesc de la o teorie a istoriei ce propune o viziune ci- clică, recurentă a timpului opusă viziunii li- neare, comune gândirii moderne izvorâte din perspectiva științifică asupra timpului fizic și a evoluționismul acumulaționist promovat de științele sociale. Howe și Strauss împart timpul în „saecu- lum” (lat.), perioade ce durează aproximativ 80–100 de ani (cât o viață de om) care cu- prind la rândul lor patru etape numite „tur- nings” (eng.), ce se poate traduce aproxima- tiv prin cuvântul „cotitură”, reprezentând o perioadă de aproximativ 2–3 decenii cu ca- racteristici speciale (p. 18). Prima „cotitură” („High” eng.) este o perioadă caracterizată de emulație socială, întărire a instituțiilor, slăbire a individualismului, precum și de apariția formelor noii ordini sociale conco- mitent cu începutul decăderii celei vechi. Ur- mează „trezirea” („Awakening” eng.), o pe- rioadă de deșteptare spirituală, caracterizată de o critică asupra vechii ordini sociale rea- lizată cu argumentele morale ale noii ordini. Cea de a treia „cotitură” reprezintă „destră- marea” („Unraveling” eng.) caracterizată de Sociologie Românească, volumul XVI, Nr. 3–4, 2018, pp 157–189 187 întărirea individualismului și slăbirea institu- țiilor în contextul decăderii ordinii vechi și a avansului social al noii ordini. Ultima etapă din „saeculum”, „criza”, este o perioadă ca- racterizată de conflicte în care se desăvâr- șește înlocuirea vechii ordini sociale cu cea nouă. Dacă societatea supraviețuiește crizei ciclul istoric se repetă. În prima parte, intitulată „Anotimpuri” („Seasons” eng.), ce cuprinde patru capitole, autorii prezintă o analiză filosofică și istorică asupra ciclicității istoriei. Howe și Strauss combină elemente de mitologie, metafizică a istoriei cu observații asupra recurențelor din istoria britanică și americană din ultimii 500 de ani. Lectura este plăcută, informația abundă în referințe filosofice, istorice și literare din antichitate până în prezent, fără a copleși însă cititorul sau de a lăsa impresia unui amalgam eclectic de informație fără un scop explicativ. Analiza se perindă din antichitate, pornind de la civilizația etruscă și romană, trecând apoi prin mai multe abordări europene și non-eu- ropene asupra ciclicității timpului istoric. Conceptele centrale ale analizei sunt cele de „saeculum”, termen utilizat din antichitate și redescoperit în perioada renașterii, și „coti- tură” sau „etapă”, analizate prin referințe asupra interpretărilor și teoriilor unor istorici precum Quincy Wright, Arnold Toynbee, Immanuel Wallerstein sau George Modelski. Autorii subliniază periodicitatea acestor „co- tituri” ale istoriei ce formează un tipar („pat- tern” eng.) de-a lungul istoriei britanice și americane. În capitolul trei, intitulat „Anotimpurile vieții” („Seasons of Life” eng.), Howe și Strauss încearcă să explice analogia între „saeculum” și viața unui om argumentând cu cuvintele lui Ralph Waldo Emerson că „nu există istorie, există doar biografie” (p. 70). „Cotiturile” prezente în „saeculum” seamănă cu marile etape din viața unui om, afirmă au- torii, analogie ce vizează schimbările care s-au produs cu precădere în epoca modernă și contemporană odată cu mărirea considera- bilă a speranței de viață. Dincolo de transfor- mările somatice și psihologice ce acompani- ază fiecare etapă a vieții omului, autorii sub- liniază relația între istorie și „generații”, de- terminând combinații aparte pe un fond psihologic comun, ceva asemănător cu teoria lui Pareto asupra reziduurilor și derivațiilor. Cartea abundă de taxonomii argumentate asupra generațiilor americane. Astfel, în ca- pitolul 3 (p. 74), se prezintă generațiile înce- pând cu anul 1843 până la apariția „milenia- lilor” („millennials” eng.), generație născută între 1982 și 2002, esențiale în argumentația părții a doua a cărții. Unul din scopurile prin- cipale ale lucrării constă în explicarea relației între generații și diversele „cotituri” sociale prin care a trecut societatea americană. Pe tot parcursul lucrării, Howe și Strauss combină în explicație elemente științifice (istorie, de- mografie, economie, sociologie) cu elemente ce aparțin filosofiei, teologiei, hermeneuticii sau culturii populare aspect ce pentru unii poate însemna o diminuare a valorii „științi- fice” a lucrării. Un exemplu în acest sens este utilizarea în argumentație a patru „arheti- puri” ce caracterizează fiecare „cotitură”: „eroii”, „profeții”, „nomazii” și „artiștii” cu ajutorul cărora autorii subliniază caracteristi- cile importante ale fiecărei generații, precum și a liderilor perioadei. În ultimele două capitole ale primei părți, Howe și Strauss fac o analiză istorică amă- nunțită asupra teoriei ciclicității timpului is- toric pornind de la istoria americană, punctul focal al analizei fiind reprezentat de concep- tul de „generație”. Analiza este multi-dimen- sională abordându-se aspecte ce privesc: po- litica internă, relațiile internaționale, economia, structurile sociale (familia), de- mografia, coeziunea socială și cultura ameri- cană. Se analizează în mod detaliat schimbă- rile sociale produse de generațiile care se succed, precum și elementele definitorii ale acestora. În partea a doua a cărții, ce cuprinde 5 ca- pitole, se analizează „saeculum”-ul contem- poran al istoriei SUA denumit de autori „mi- lenial” care a început după cel de-al Doilea Război Mondial. Fiecare capitol detaliază o 188 Recenzii „cotitură”. În capitolul 6 se analizează peri- oada denumită „Efervescența americană” („American High” eng.), etapă ce debutează după încheierea celui de al Doilea Război Mondial și se încheie cu asasinarea președin- telui Kennedy în noiembrie 1963. Se prezintă diverse aspecte ale emulației postbelice ca- racterizată de o participare economică și so- cială ridicată, de întărirea familiei și a insti- tuțiilor și, în general, de o viziune optimistă asupra viitorului. Autorii prezintă o analiză a primelor „cotituri” din „saeculum”-urile an- terioare britanice și americane, sugerând o echivalență din perspectiva optimismului emanat de perioadele respective. Howe și Strauss insistă asupra tendințelor sociale re- levante, asupra identificării grupurilor demo- grafice ce caracterizează perioada și care vor exercita o influență majoră asupra societății americane. În capitolul 7 se prezintă următoarea etapă denumită „Revoluția conștiinței” („Conciousness Revolution” eng.), ce du- rează între 1964 și 1984. Ideea centrală ce ca- racterizează această perioadă este orientarea către critica socială a societății americane odată ce bunăstarea economică părea asigu- rată de realizările „cotiturii” precedente. În această perioadă, marcată de crize succesive, se schimbă centrul de greutate al culturii că- tre individualism, civilizația americană deve- nind tot mai narcisistă. Este remarcabilă des- crierea transformării generaționale, a relației dintre generațiiile „G.I.” și „Boomers”, com- promisurile adoptate le-a permis primilor să devină cea mai înstărită generație de „se- niori” din istoria Americii, iar „bom- mers”-ilor să preia conducerea culturală a Americii. Odată ce sistemul de valori este controlat de generația „boomers” se constată o reevaluare a statusului copiilor și a familiei tradiționale în societatea americană. În capitolul 8 Howe și Strauss analizează cea de a treia cotitură contemporană intitu- lată „Conflicte culturale” („Culture Wars” eng.), etapă care începe odată cu instaurarea lui Ronald Reagan ca președinte al SUA și se estimează de către autori a se încheia în 2005. Construită pe fundamentele individua- lismului instaurat de „cotitura” precedentă, atomizarea societății evoluează spre coagu- lări de nișă, grupuri sociale care se identifică pe o anumită caracteristică comună ce per- mite activismul social. Structurile largi ideo- logice ce au dominat politica americană sunt înlocuite de grupulețe ideologice agresive ce lasă tot mai puțin loc compromisului politic. În contextul dezvoltării internetului, cultura devine dominată de pseudo-intelectualism și de cinism, simptom al unei civilizații aflate în faza de decădere. Sub presiunea multicul- turalismului și a inegalității sociale coeziu- nea societății americane cunoaște o slăbire fără precedent. Capitolele 9 și 10 prezintă o prefigurare a crizei care va încheia „saeculum”-ul contem- poran, „profeția” amintită încă de la începu- tul cărții. Dacă în capitolul 9 autorii anali- zează crize similare din istoria SUA, în capitolul 10 se prezintă posibile scenarii pen- tru criza ce va urma din care aș aminti două scenarii care s-au împlinit în perioada ce a urmat scrierii cărții: atacul terorist asupra SUA și „Marea devalorizare” („The Great Devaluation” eng.) ce corespunde în viziu- nea mea prăbușirii domeniului imobiliar și a sistemului financiar în 2007–2008. Partea a treia cuprinde două capitole în care Howe și Strauss încearcă să ofere sfaturi pentru a confrunta criza ce converg spre ideea de moderație în economie, politică, cultură și în abordarea problemelor de secu- ritate. Ca o notă critică, m-a surprins lipsa refe- rințelor în carte cu privire la procesul globa- lizării, termen ce nu apare pe parcursul cărții. Tensiunile între naționalism și globalizare sau între multiculturalism și identitatea nați- onală sunt elemente centrale ale războiului cultural la care asistăm atât în SUA, cât și în Europa. Pot găsi anumite circumstanțe ate- nuante autorilor în sensul că Organizația Mondială a Comerțului s-a înființat în 1994 și acceptarea Chinei în organizație se va face doar în 2001 cu consecințe semnificative asupra economiei și societății americane și tot în anul 1994 se va implementa NAFTA Sociologie Românească, volumul XVI, Nr. 3–4, 2018, pp 157–189 189 acordul de liber schimb nord american. Ex- ternalizarea locurilor de muncă din sectorul manufacturier a declanșat o serie de procese negative economice și sociale, cea mai sem- nificativă fiind sărăcirea și diminuarea fără precedent a clasei de mijloc, pilon esențial al democrației americane. Steve Bannon a înțe- les aceste aspecte și a militat pentru revizui- rea relației cu China sau NAFTA și a focali- zării atenției politicilor americane asupra grupurilor sociale defavorizate de politica agresivă de globalizare a regimurilor Clin- ton, Bush și Obama. În viziunea mea, Ban- non a preluat de la Howe și Strauss o viziune asupra istoriei (americane), ceva asemănător cu ceea ce reprezintă dialectică marxistă pen- tru orientările politice de stânga. Dincolo de aspectele criticabile, ce în vi- ziunea mea oferă valoare euristică unei lu- crări, recomand această carte tuturor celor ce doresc să înțeleagă relația dintre evoluția de- mografică și sistemul politic, economic și cultural al SUA. Prezenta recenzie nu poate reda bogăția, calitatea informației și a infe- rențelor realizate de autorii cărții. Este o lu- crare ce readuce în prim plan valoarea intui- ției și a perspectivei culturale în analiza socială într-o perioadă în care suntem asedi- ați cu tot felul de analize „științifice” în do- meniul social ce nu reprezintă decât instru- mente într-un război informațional și ideologic ce vizează direcția în care va evo- lua omenirea în următorul „saeculum”. Botond-Zsolt Bottyan, Universitatea din Oradea Page 1 Page 2 Page 1 Page 2 
work_vpyfc6dkwjh2pbcpvs2nnw7qa4	----	Thank You, Over and Out This is my last editorial as your editor. I thank you all for the opportunity that you have afforded me during the last seven years to be your editor. It has been an interesting time for us all in optical science and engineering as the field has developed into a discipline that provides en- abling technologies to a wide variety of current and future devices and systems. For me it was a great opportunity to serve this discipline that has been a part of my profes- sional life for well over 40 years. The editorship has brought together two aspects of that life—research and teaching. Research and development results need to be communicated and shared in an authoritative way so that we can all learn of the progress of our collective endeav- ors and apply those results to our own work no matter where that is in the total spectrum of optical science and engineering. Hence the need for, and the role of, your refereed journal Optical Engineering. I thank all those who have contributed to the success of the journal; authors, reviewers, guest editors, editorial staff in Bellingham, and perhaps the most important group—the readers. Without that support the editor is nothing! One group that has also been important have been ‘‘the correspondents.’’ The feedback and construc- tive comments and suggestions of this group have been most helpful. Of course, all these groups that have been supportive are individuals who fulfill a variety of roles across the set of groups; authors are reviewers, readers are authors, etc. I am confident that Don O’Shea will receive the same level of support that I have enjoyed as he con- tinues to move the journal forward as the major interna- tional journal. You will have noticed that I used the phrase ‘‘the dis- cipline of optical science and engineering.’’ I believe it is a discipline in its own right, but if you don’t like that idea then I am sure that you will agree that there is an inte- grated body of knowledge that constitutes optical sciences and engineering. I have always believed that technology is the embodiment of known science ~true in the Stone Age and true today!. Engineering is then the integrated use of that known science and technology into devices and systems that can be used to solve current problems and make our world a better and safer place to live in. So I close by rewriting Ralph Waldo Emerson ~with my apology!!. ‘‘Good-bye, proud journal! I’m going home: Thou art my friend, and I am thine’’ Over and Out, Brian J. Thompson Editor Editorial 3233Optical Engineering, Vol. 36 No. 12, December 1997 Downloaded From: https://www.spiedigitallibrary.org/journals/Optical-Engineering on 05 Apr 2021 Terms of Use: https://www.spiedigitallibrary.org/terms-of-use 
work_vqrsyy52nbfn3mx2ftlfhuk7ay	----	Association News Charles O. Jones: Political Institutional Samuel C. Patterson Ohio State University Charles O. Jones, presently Glenn B. and Cleone Orr Hawkins Pro- fessor of Political Science at the Uni- versity of Wisconsin in Madison, will serve as the eighty-ninth president of the American Political Science Asso- ciation during 1993-94. No political scientist more richly merits the recog- nition the presidency of the Associa- tion brings to him or her than Chuck Jones, who has served on the faculty of five colleges and universities, won various accolades for professional and scholarly achievement (including a Guggenheim fellowship, a fellow- ship in the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, and an honorary doctorate from his alma mater), served on the editorial boards of nine journals and as editor of both the American Political Science Review and the Legislative Studies Quarterly, and served in several association offices including treasurer, chair of the Trust and Development Fund, vice president, and president-elect. He has been an active member and officer of two regional associations— the Midwest Political Science Asso- ciation and the Southern Political Science Association—and served as president of the former. Moreover, his presidencies also include the Policy Studies Organization and Pi Sigma Alpha. And, he chaired both the executive committee of the Social Science Research Council board of directors and the council of the Inter- university Consortium for Political and Social Research. On a much broader canvas than the strictly aca- demic, Jones has been a consultant or adviser to a wide variety of gov- ernment agencies and commissions, congressional committees, universi- ties, and private research institutes, epitomized by his long-time and con- tinuing relationship with the Brook- ings Institution in Washington, D.C. The Emerging Scholar We observe Charles O. Jones today as a mature, sophisticated, and very productive scholar, but I remember our days together in grad- uate school at the University of Wisconsin when both of us figured our chances of success were modest Charles O. Jones at best, and neither of us imagined what the road ahead would be like. For Chuck, the road ahead entailed an outpouring of scholarly research and writing, a lifetime of commit- ment to the life of a teacher and scholar. I vividly remember Chuck's elation upon the occasion of his first publication, a brief article on inter- viewing members of Congress pub- lished in the Public Opinion Quarter- ly (in 1959). Two years later, his first paper appeared in the American Political Science Review. From this beginning, there flowed fifteen books and monographs (the fifteenth just completed), and nearly ninety articles and book chapters. But, to me Chuck Jones is not merely a distinguished political scien- tist of immense scholarly achieve- ment. I have been a close personal friend of Chuck Jones for about forty-four years now. Both of us grew up in small towns in South Dakota—Chuck was born in the jerkwater of Worthing, but he grew up in Canton, a town of some "2,600 friendly citizens" in those days. He was raised by his grand- parents, Ruby and Oscar B. Jones, both loving and devoted parents who sacrificed much to see that Chuck was properly raised. Oscar Jones, " P a " to Chuck, was a crusty but very endearing man, whose cussing and irascible expressions often were a source of amusement and affection to Chuck (and to me) for as long as he lived. In 1949, we both went to college at the University of South Dakota in Vermillion. We met the first day, accidentally seated side-by-side in William O. " D o c " Farber's Ameri- can government class. We have been fast friends since that day. We were avid political science majors, guided by our devoted professors Bill Farber and Tom Geary. For one summer during our college days we both won internships (then called "student assistantships") in the Bureau of Old-Age and Survivors' Insurance, and we went off to work in the Bureau offices in Baltimore. That was the first time we lived together, enduring a sweltering top floor room of a boarding row house near the Enoch Pratt Free Library. We never had been much in cities, and we had very little money. As I recall, we sur- vived the summer on crab cakes and a lot of sightseeing on foot. We had done well in college courses at South Dakota U., so well that on graduation day in 1953 we led our graduating class down the aisle of Slagle Hall to get our bache- lor degrees with laude's. Since we both were in ROTC, we got Army commissions when we graduated, as well. I took off for a stint in the infantry, but Chuck's commission as a second lieutenant was in the Adju- tant General's corps of the army. He spent his two-year tour of duty most- ly in Washington, D.C. and on South Pacific atolls—watching 822 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News atomic weapons explode, and writing the official history of the testing program. During our service in the army, we were able to meet occasionally for visits, and at some point we both decided to go to graduate school in political science somewhere. " D o c " Farber advised us to apply to the University of Wisconsin, where he had gotten his Ph.D. We followed his advice, were offered assistant- ships there, and both decided to go to graduate school at Wisconsin. We moved into a seedy lakefront flat (landlorded by an odd chap we called "Father Divine") to attend the sum- mer school in 1955. I'll never forget the day we both went to South Hall, where the political science depart- ment was then located, to meet the chairman, the acerbic William S. Young, who did not give us much hope for success in graduate study. Our leading faculty lights were David Fellman, Ralph K. Huitt, Henry Hart, and, above all, Leon D. Epstein. We both were avid students of Ralph Huitt's, with whom Chuck completed his Ph.D. dissertation. We worked equally with Leon Epstein, who was our idea of what a univer- sity professor should be like. He still is. Over the years since we lived and worked together as Wisconsin gradu- ate students, we have remained in close touch. I liked and admired Chuck Jones when we were college friends, and I still like and admire him. Now, I admire him as a leading scholar in political science, a crafts- man of research and teaching. He is my best friend, and, like a brother, has enriched my life. But, more important, his scholarly work has enriched the intellectual and profes- sional development of political sci- ence over the last 35 years or so. Investigating the Congressional Institution From the beginning, Jones's inter- est lay in political institutions—how they are ordered, how their processes work, what decisions are made within them, how public policies are shaped by them. His contributions to political science fall rather neatly into three classes: congressional politics, ublic policy, and the presidency. NOMINATIONS SOUGHT FOR 1994 APSA AWARDS Nominations are invited for the APSA awards to be presented at the 1993 Annual Meeting in New York City. Dissertations must be nominated by departments and submitted by January 15, 1994. Books must be nominated by publishers and submitted by February 1, 1994. Members are invited to nominate individuals for the career awards. Further details may be obtained by contacting the national office. Until the late 1960s, his writing focused mainly upon the United States Congress. Three books about Congress developed during this period—Party and Policy-Making: The House Republican Policy Com- mittee (1964), Every Second Year: Congressional Behavior and the Two-Year Term (1967), and The Minority Party in Congress (1970). These books illustrate Jones's interest in the party organization within Con- gress, and particularly in the peculiar role of the minority, usually Repub- lican, party. He was fascinated with the adapta- tion of the Republicans to their fate as the seemingly permanent congres- sional minority. He began to investi- gate this by dissecting the House Republican Policy Committee by way of personal interviews with commit- tee members. This effort led him to a larger analysis of the minority party's role in Congress, which he conducted under the aegis of Ralph K. Huitt's Study of Congress project. Jones analyzed crucial conditions inside and outside Congress since the turn of the 20th century affecting the capacity of the minority party to per- form as an effective "loyal opposi- tion." Interestingly, in The Minority Party in Congress Jones particularly considers the phenomenon of the "minority party mentality," the pro- clivity of members of the permanent minority to pursue individual goals and satisfy individual motivations rather than seeking to convert the minority into a majority party. In the midst of these concerns, Jones turned to a matter of the insti- tutional design of Congress—the term of office for members. He con- ducted a very thorough study of the issue of the congressional two-year term, under the auspices of the Brookings Institution. Nowadays, public attention is focused on the proposal to limit the number of terms legislators may serve. But in the mid-1960s public discussion addressed a proposal, made by Presi- dent Lyndon B. Johnson, to extend the term of office of House members from two to four years. Jones con- cluded that the term change was not a good idea. In the course of the argument in Every Second Year, by the way, he made himself one of the first congressional scholars to iden- tify the "incumbency effect" in elec- tions, although he had shown the high incumbent return rate in con- gressional elections in a seminal 1964 article in the Western Political Quar- terly (long before "incumbency" was worked to a frazzle by scholars in the 1980s and 90s). In the late 1970s, Jones wrote a synoptic book on Congress—The United States Congress: People, Place, and Policy (1982)—where he elaborated and adumbrated themes from his earlier congressional research. One theme was that of the formidibility of Congress as a polit- ical institution, a constitutional body grown more powerful over recent years. Another was that of the ubiquity of reform, in the form of the argument that "Congress changes whether or not specific reforms are enacted." Finally, Congress plays a central role in policy making as the institution is drawn into various salient "policy networks." Analyzing Public Policies The more deeply Jones plumbed the institutional life of Congress, the more interested he became in wider analysis of public policy processes. In a long-surviving and widely-used textbook (Introduction to the Study of Public Policy, 3rd ed., 1984), he marshalled the concepts and dynam- ics needed to comprehend the public December 1993 823 Association News CALL FOR NOMINATIONS APSA Council and President The APSA Nominations Committee seeks suggestions to fill eight upcoming vacancies on the APSA Council and the positions of APSA president-elect, secretary, treasurer, and three vice-presidents. Council members serve three-year terms; the treasurer serves a two-year term; president-elect, vice-presidents, and secretary serve one-year terms. Send names of nominees by January 1994. The Committee will meet in February and will report to the president no later than April 15. In the spaces below, you may name up to three individuals to serve on the APSA Council and one individual to serve as president, vice-president, secretary, or treasurer. Elections will take place at the 1994 Annual Meeting in New York City, September 1-4. Be sure to include address, phone number(s), and, if possible, a current vita of the nominee(s). I nominate the following for the APSA Council: (1). Name (2). Name (3). Address Address Address City, State, Zip City, State, Zip City, State, Zip Phone Phone Phone I nominate for Secretary: Name Treasurer: (2). Name Vice-President: (3) Address Address Address City, State, Zip City, State, Zip City, State, Zip Phone Phone Phone I nominate for President-Elect: (i) Name Address Your Name: Your Phone: , City, State, Zip RETURN TO: APSA-Nominations 1527 New Hampshire Avenue, NW Washington, DC 20036 Phone 824 PS: Political Science & Politics Association News Nominations Sought for Managing Editor of American Political Science Review In July 1995 APSR Managing Editor G. Bingham Powell, Jr.'s four-year term will end. The Council has appointed a search committee to work with APSA President Charles O. Jones to identify Powell's successor. The Council will elect the next editor at its August 31, 1994 meeting after learning of the Search Committee's deliberations and hearing the recommendation of the President. The new editor will begin mid-summer 1995. The purpose of this notice is to invite you to submit suggestions for editor to the Search Committee. Please send your nominations to the APSA headquarters by December 15, 1993. Members of the Search Committee are: Emanuel Adler, University of Wisconsin-Madison Jean Bethke Elshtain, Vanderbilt University John Hibbing, University of Nebraska, Lincoln Matthew Holden, University of Virginia Keith Krehbiel, Stanford University G. Bingham Powell, Jr., University of Rochester Kay Schlozman, Boston College Sidney Verba, Harvard University, Chair Charles O. Jones, University of Wisconsin-Madison, ex officio Please send nominations to: APSR Managing Editor Search Committee, 1527 New Hampshire Avenue, NW, Washington, DC 20036. Fax (202)483-2657. December 1993 825 Association News policy process as a whole. His vari- ant of an organizational scheme, a typology, for analyzing policy pro- cesses became the standard of prac- tice. The typology emphasizes policy "problems" that make it to the agenda, and their fate in policy for- mulation, legitimation, appropria- tion, implementation, and evalua- tion. Jones's policy interests have always been diverse: his writing about public policies has included illustrations from a wealth of arenas. He edited an anthology on urban policies (The Urban Crisis in America, 1969), and served as a consultant to the National Academy of Sciences on energy policy, among other things. But his most sustained research effort concerned air pollution policy. His book, Clean Air: The Policies and Politics of Pollution Control (1975) developed while Jones was on the faculty of the University of Pitts- burgh, located in an historically- polluted industrial environment. Naturally, the conceptualization for this study carries the typology he elaborated in his introductory public policy book. Clean Air begins with the highly polluted air of industrial Pittsburgh, but the purview is explicitly federal. One of this study's signal contribu- tions is that it shows unmistakably the intertwining of policy making at multiple levels of government. Jones analyzed air pollution policy as a case of what he called "speculative augmentation," where policy solu- tions are imposed that lie beyond what is technically or administrative- ly feasible at the time the policy is hammered out. His air pollution policy case study convinced Jones that speculative augmentation is a basis for decision making fraught with grave shortcomings. Firmly grounded in John Dewey's rational- ism, Jones concluded that policy making in a scientific and technical arena like that of air pollution "must be based on research as well as full awareness of the consequences of choices made," so that decisions can be made "within a realistic range of available knowledge." The Enduring Presidency Beginning in the early 1980s, Jones turned to the presidency as the focus 826 for his intellectual curiosity. He had not written extensively about the presidency of Richard M. Nixon, although he fantasized once about what subsequent history might have been like if Watergate had not trans- pired (in a clever book, What If. . .?, edited by Nelson W. Polsby). He argued that Nixon's relations with Congress would have been about what they came, in fact, to be like; and, "Jimmy Carter would have remained 'Jimmy who?' in 1976." Long interested in presidential elec- tions, Jones's affiliation with the White Burkett Miller Center of Public Affairs at the University of Virginia beginning in 1981 involved him in an emerging oral history study of the presidency of Jimmy Carter. The Miller Center project entailed interviews in depth with members of the Carter White House staff, conducted in Charlottesville, Virginia by a number of scholars of the presidency. Moreover, President Carter was interviewed in Plains, Georgia by the research group. Jones's participation in these oral history interviews, and the availabil- ity to him of the extensive transcripts they yielded, led him to think in a searching way about the presidency as an institution, and about the par- ticular presidential experience of Jimmy Carter. The ultimate product of this thinking was his book, The Trusteeship Presidency: Jimmy Carter and the United States Con- gress (1988). Jones analyzes Carter as a "trusteeship" president, a president whose conception of his representa- tive role centered around the notion that he was "an official entrusted to represent the public or national inter- est, downplaying short-term electoral considerations." Jones masterfully unfolds the story of Jimmy Carter's rise to the presidency. But it is in Carter's relationship to Congress that Jones sees the key to understanding the trusteeship presidency. Neverthe- less, the heart of the analysis is the portrayal of changes taking place in Congress in the 1970s, and the par- ticular relations between the Carter White House and Capitol Hill. Jones insightfully characterizes the ways in which the White House organized itself to deal with Congress, and dissects the public policy issues which the Carter administration worked on the Hill during the 95th and 96th Congresses. Like other presidencies, much of the time the Carter administration enjoyed successes in the congres- sional reception of its policy pro- posals and initiatives. The thrust of Jones's critique of the Carter presi- dency goes not primarily to its vic- tories and defeats in Congress, but to Carter's own syndrome of attitudes about congressional representation, the natural proclivities of politicians, and his own trusteeship orientation. Carter, Jones argues, thought "it was far better to lose for the right reasons than to win for the wrong reasons"; he rejected " a politics based on bargaining among special interests with inside access to deci- sion makers"; he persisted as a dedi- cated "outsider" in Washington; he was "anti-political." Yet, Jones acquired a grudging admiration for Jimmy Carter; in the end, Jones acknowledges that "it will be diffi- cult in the long run to sustain cen- sure of a president motivated to do what is right." Like Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan had not enjoyed congres- sional experience prior to becoming president; the main pre-presidential political experience of both had been as state governors. Like Carter, Reagan was an outsider, a moralizer, a president determined to make important changes in the system. Yet, Jones considers the two presi- dents to be fundamentally different. At least during the early years of the Reagan era, the president enjoyed good personal relations with Con- gress, he cultivated and nursed con- gressional leaders, and he won strik- ing legislative successes in 1981. Jones treats the Reagan legislative "triumph"—reducing taxes and spending, cutting federal welfare and health programs, and substantially increasing defense spending—as on a par with the Great Society programs of the 1960s (in The Reagan Legacy: Promise and Performance (1988), which he edited). In their relations with Congress, Carter and Reagan differed in their approaches and agenda entries: Carter remained distant, and "over- loaded" the congressional agenda; Reagan "achieved a policy break- through in his first year and then PS: Political Science & Politics Association News engaged in a holding action" (remarked in a chapter in The Reagan Presidency and the Govern- ing of America (1985), edited by Lester M. Salamon and Michael S. Lund). But it is Reagan's personal appeal and popularity that seem to have endeared him most to Jones. In the end, he quotes (in his The Reagan Legacy chapter) a Wall Street Journal story: "Ronald Reagan is going to be a tough act to follow." The act that followed was, of course, the presidency of George Bush. Jones entitled his essay on the Bush presidency "Meeting Low Expectations. . . " (in The Bush Presidency: First Appraisals, edited by Colin Campbell and Bert Rock- man and published in 1991). Since Bush espoused little in the way of a program and won no mandate in 1988, he did not need to "hit the ground running" in his relations with Congress. Jones characterized the politics of the Bush years as "co- partisanship," believing that both political parties won the 1988 elec- tion, and each could thereafter govern through negotiation with the other. The unfolding consequences of divided party control of government during the Bush administration increasingly agitated Jones's curios- ity. Political reality, as Jones per- ceived it, had become a condition in which competition between the national political parties "has occurred within the context of insti- tutional balance, with each party rather solidly staked out at each end of Pennsylvania Avenue." Because "policy and political processes have adjusted to that reality . . . it is time," Jones asserted, "that we understand what those processes are " That understanding has preoccu- pied Chuck Jones for the past few years. In a book soon to be pub- lished, The Presidency in a Separated System, he anatomizes the condition of the presidency and the strategic position of presidents in the context of split party control of White House and Capitol Hill. Noting that divided control has been the usual state of affairs in Washington in the post- World War II era—mainly with a Republican president and a Demo- cratic congressional majority—he argues that "responsible party gov- ernment" advocates are simply un- realistic. Our system, says Jones, is one of diffused responsibility, mixed representation, and institutional com- petition. Political actors at both ends of Pennsylvania Avenue adjust their behavior accordingly in order to make the system work. Jones observes: The participants in this system of mixed representation and diffused responsibility naturally accommodate their political surroundings. Put other- wise, congressional Democrats and presidential Republicans learn how to do their work. Not only does each side adjust to its political circumstances, but both may be expected as well to provide itself with the resources to participate meaningfully in policy politics. The institutional matrix molds and shapes the behavior of those who count themselves part of the existing structure. The particular form of adaptation can vary. Jones develops a four-fold typology of patterns of adaptation. Where the president's party enjoys a congressional majority, the pattern is one of partisanship, as in the first two years of the Johnson administra- tion. This is the type "that best suits the conditions of the party govern- ment model." Where split party con- trol develops, with a Republican in the White House and a Democratic majority in the congressional houses, the pattern is that of co-partisanship, "typified by parallel development of proposals at each end of the Avenue or by the two parties in each house of Congress." Presumably, this mode was exemplified by much of the Eisenhower administration, or by the first year of the Reagan presi- dency, or by moments early in the Bush administration. When the two parties, and presi- dent and Congress, cooperate a good deal, the pattern is one of bipartisan- ship, classically illustrated by the foreign policy comity of the years immediately after World War II. This type differs from co-partisan- ship mainly in the timing of negotia- tions between contending sides, and in the breadth and sweep of support from partisans. Finally, where a seg- ment of one congressional party col- laborates persistently with the other party so that it can be counted on for support, the pattern is one of cross partisanship, as occurs when there is a "conservative coalition" vote in the House of Representatives or Senate. This mode usually is nega- tive in character, seeking to stop or inhibit rather than to construct policy, and probably occurs most notably when a Republican president employs a "southern strategy"— seeking to win over the support of congressional conservative Democrats from the South. In The Presidency in a Separated System, Jones dissects these varying patterns or conditions with an especially keen eye to the role and performance of the presi- dent (a teaser for the forthcoming book is Jones's chapter, "The Sep- arated Presidency—Making It Work in Contemporary Politics," in the revised edition of The New American Political System (1990), edited by Anthony King). Because split party control has been commonplace, Jones asserts that we do not have "presidential government" in the United States, we have "separated government." The Methodology of "Doing Before Knowing" Jones, always the perceptive ana- lyst, does not take his institutions lightly, nor merely dabble at the periphery with weak politics or par- ticularistic rules. With the study of Congress, the public policy process, and the presidency, his purposes are to plumb deeply, to work beyond the institutional formation itself to analyze the broader contexts and cir- cumstances, and to bring order out of disarray by classifying, construct- ing working typologies, and engaging in thick description or rich illustration. Jones's work consistently demon- strates his close attention to the problems and promise of clear con- ceptualization. His writing is replete with examples of his self-conscious- ness and a sense of obligation to other scholars regarding conceptual ideas, and his research persistently features typological and classificatory efforts. He especially elaborated his broadly methodological commitments in a "workshop" paper for the American Journal of Political Sci- December 1993 827 Association News ence in 1974 ("Doing Before Know- ing: Concept Development in Polit- ical Research"). Drawing very much on the notions adumbrated by Abraham Kaplan, Jones argues the necessity for working out conceptual- ization of a research problem at the stage of the design of the study. Classification can take on three dis- tinct purposes—for general under- standing, to order research expecta- tions, and to sort out empirical results. His argument runs as follows: The first is classification for general understanding—ordering a universe of discourse with a set of concepts so as to state one's own best understanding of that subject matter and be able to communicate with others about it. We do this whenever we write about a subject, whether we intend to do research about it or not. The second is classification of research expecta- tions—projecting what is to be found. The concepts used here may be iden- tical with or logically derived from the preceding, and aid one in designing a specific research project. The third is classification of empirical findings— ordering findings so as to add to, modify, or reject the expectations. . . . Jones's research corpus strongly reflects this straightforward set of intellectual practices, this process of "doing before knowing." Epilogue I often think about my friend Chuck Jones. Over the years, I have gotten his books, received offprints of his articles from him, and read each publication as it came into print. Still, I never before this read the scholarly productivity of his entire career in one swoop. My admiration for my friend as a fellow political scientist has grown with this experience, though I always held his research in very high esteem. Still, in the end it is my personal relationship with Chuck Jones that counts the most. A friend is a prec- ious gift. Not too many people are blessed with a close and lifetime friend. Henry Adams thought "one friend in a lifetime is much; two are many; three are hardly possible." He perceptively added, "friendship needs a certain parallelism of life, a com- munity of thought, a rivalry of aim." It may have been an accident that Chuck Jones and I came to experience parallel life experiences, but this has reinforced our lifelong friendship. " A friend," wrote Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is a person with whom I may be sincere. Before him, I may think aloud. . . . " Chuck Jones and I "think aloud" whenever we meet. I am proud of my friend that he has achieved eminence in our discipline so substantial as to earn him the presidency of the American Political Science Association. Washington Annual Meeting Largest Ever The 89th Annual Meeting of the American Political Science Associa- tion set a new attendance record for APSA meetings, drawing 5,635 par- ticipants to the Washington Hilton. The previous record for attendance was the 1991 meeting, also in Wash- ington, which drew 5,179 people. Featured at the meeting was the Presidential Address by Lucius J. Barker, Stanford University, titled "Limits of Political Strategy: A Sys- temic View of the African-American Experience." President Barker was introduced by Jack Peltason, Presi- dent of the University of California. The James Madison Lecture was given by Sidney Verba, APSA's President-Elect; and the John Gaus APSA President Lucius Barker and Univer- sity of California President Jack Peltason. President Barker and President-Elect Jones with Health and Human Services Secretary Donna Shalala. Lecture was presented by Francis E. Rourke, Johns Hopkins University. Barker's address will appear in the March 1994 issue of APSR and Verba's and Rourke's are featured in this issue of PS. The meeting also included two experimental activities—Poster Ses- sions and Hyde Park Sessions. The former were display presentations in which key elements of papers were posted, and presenters stood by to discuss them individually with view- ers; the latter were open assemblies guided by a chairperson addressing timely political topics. Attendance at both formats was strong—the Hyde Park sessions in particular were attractive, drawing 24 participants to the discussion on humanitarian inter- vention in Bosnia and Somalia led by Miles Kahler, University of Cali- fornia, San Diego, and 52 to Gays in the Military—What Is to be Done, led by Theodore Lowi, Cornell Uni- versity. APSA was also able to dis- tribute a large block of tickets to members, on a first-come-first-served basis, to visit the newly opened Holocaust Museum during the meeting. The meeting was co-organized by Peter Gourevitch, University of Cali- fornia, San Diego, and Paula McClain, University of Virginia, and a 42-member program committee, 828 PS: Political Science & Politics 
work_vsis5gk4kndmhjborznulfvi64	----	Revista Filosofía Vol15 No1 2016 VERSION A DIAGRAMAR.indd ( ) PARA VOLVER A LEER INVITACIÓN A "PARA VOLVER A LEER" “RESISTANCE TO CIVIL GOVERNEMENT” (1849) DE HENRY DAVID THOREAU La lectura de un texto americano por un europeo (y aquí no se hacen distingos entre América del Norte o del Sur) no es difícil que provoque una revitalizante y agradable sensación: la del bullir de la vida. América y la magnitud de su geografía física (sus ríos, sus montes, sus bosques) y la variedad y robustez de sus especies en su fauna y su flora se percibe tras las líneas de escritores en los que queda prendido lo sublime matemático y dinámico de la naturaleza. En la pluma de Thoreau esta presencia de lo natural en la escritura resulta mucho más evidente que en otras. Él paso dos años dos meses y dos días viviendo en una propiedad de Ralph Waldo Emerson a orillas del lago Walden buscando una vida más esencial, habitando una cabaña construida por él y sustentándose de lo que fabricaba y se procuraba. Experiencia de la que quedó testimonio en Walden o Life in the Woods (1854). Ese bullir natural también se palpa en el texto que nos ocupa, Resistance to Civil Governement. Y se percibe en la vocación práctica que traslada a sus líneas. En todo momento quiere transmitirse que el pensamiento digno de hacerse público en un escrito impreso es únicamente el que procede de la naturaleza humana, y el que intenta conformar la dimensión práctica y política a esa naturaleza. Ese propósito quiere manifestarse en el texto de Thoreau mediante una remisión a una filosofía política, la rousseauniana, a partir de la cual se valora la resolución de problemas políticos contemporáneos en los Estados Unidos que conoció el autor. Efectivamente, Rousseau abogaba por la soberanía popular. Del pueblo emana el poder y éste lo delega sobre sus representantes siempre que el contrato social que habilita esta delegación sea justo. Y he ahí el punctum dolens: la política de la Unión era claramente injusta, y esa injusticia tenía dos focos claramente identificados. El primero era la esclavitud: había Estados en la que ésta se practicaba. El segundo era la Guerra mexicano-estadounidense. Para Thoreau, esta campaña bélica no era más que una agresión colonialista a la nación latina y una infame invasión. Ambos eran hechos que demostraban palmariamente el poco interés que tenía el gobierno de la Unión por la justicia, y cómo más bien estaba preocupado por preservar los intereses de comerciantes y granjeros que o bien veían ventajas en esta situación o bien preferían en aras de la estabilidad que el statu quo no fuera modificado. Y frente a esa situación, la propuesta de Thoreau era la resistencia ciudadana. En su caso, lo que puso en marcha fue la objeción fiscal. Se negó a pagar impuestos durante seis años, por lo que fue encarcelado. Sin embargo, no se excluían otras respuestas, incluso más radicales, aquellas que implicaban derramamiento de sangre, porque, “Is there not a blood sheed when the conscience is wounded?”(Thoreau, 1849), (¿Acaso no hay derramamiento de sangre cuando se hiere a la conciencia?). Esta gota de extremismo la dejó caer el autor en honor del Capitán John Brown que fue ejecutado tras oponerse a la esclavitud por las armas y contra la legalidad vigente antes de que se produjera la Guerra de Secesión. Contra la esclavitud Thoreau no aceptaba componendas legalistas, ni moralismos vacuos e inefectivos como el de Noah Webster. Para éste la esclavitud era un pecado, pero no un pecado del Norte, sin embargo no se podía interferir legalmente en la regulación que hacía el Sur sobre esta cuestión. No en balde, la Unión era la consecuencia de la adhesión libre de unos Estados a ella, y la Constitución de esta entidad política exigía el respeto a la legislación particular de cada Estado. Esta cuestión es delicada. Al fin y al cabo la democracia consiste en la prevalencia de la voluntad de las mayorías. Sin embargo, Thoreau replica, no hay garantía alguna de que la voluntad de la mayoría se identifique sin más ni más con la justicia. Por ello Thoreau aboga por la resistencia ciudadana, para que las minorías, mediante medidas excepcionales de desobediencia a la legalidad y en pos de la justicia, se hagan oír. Para él hay un vector de creciente respeto de los derechos del ciudadano en el tránsito de la monarquía absoluta a la monarquía limitada y de ésta a la democracia. La realidad de ese proceso para él evidente, hace que se formule una pregunta. ¿No cabrá un avance mayor que la democracia para que el respeto de los derechos del hombre sea definitivo? Asunto delicado… La perspectiva iusnaturalista nos pone en el disparadero de decidir quién está llamado a delimitar qué sea esa naturaleza y en qué deben consistir las sanciones por conculcarla, lo que de hecho daría lugar a un derecho positivo, resultado de una convención establecida por y para seres humanos. Esa ley, al estar envuelta en un aura naturalista, sería mucho más difícilmente examinable, criticable y mejorable por otros seres humanos, cuya posición política y sentido de lo que es justo serían más fácilmente socavados que desde las garantías que ofrece la ley estrictamente positiva. Dr. Miguel Salmerón Infante Profesor Universidad Autónoma de Madrid Miembro del Comité Editorial Revista Filosofía UIS 
work_vst5hbvlw5azji6yvu7e2czzfe	----	NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS 698 MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin Quantum materials: Where many paths meet By Philip Ball All matter, in the end, must be explained by quantum mechanics, which de- scribes how atoms bind and electrons in- teract at a fundamental level. Typically, the quantum behavior can be approximated by a classical description, in which atoms become balls that stick together in well- defined arrangements via simple forces and vibrate much like balls on springs. Sometimes, however, that is not so. In some materials, the quantum aspects as- sert themselves tenaciously, and the only way to fully understand how the material behaves is to keep the quantum in view. Such substances are now grouped togeth- er under the banner of quantum materials. The US Department of Energy (DOE) describes quantum materials as “solids with exotic physical properties, arising from the quantum mechanical proper- ties of their constituent electrons, that have great scientific and/or technologi- cal potential.” It’s a diverse class of ma- terials—so much so that some question whether the designation is meaningful. It includes well-advertised materials such as superconductors and graphene, along with ones with less familiar names: top- ological insulators, Weyl semimetals, quantum spin liquids, and spin ices. A collection of oddballs they may be, but quantum materials are both a treasure trove of interesting physics and a potential source of useful substances. And while the compositions and behav- iors of quantum materials cover a wide spectrum, some common themes recur. Many of them derive their properties from reduced dimensionality, in particular from confinement of electrons to two-dimen- sional (2D) sheets. In many, magnetism and electronic structure interact in curious ways. In particular, they tend to be materi- als in which electrons cannot be consid- ered as independent particles but act as collective states dubbed quasiparticles. Philip Ball, p.ball@binternet.com Aside from the matter of their intrinsic properties, however, what tends to unite quantum materials is who is interested in them. The community of researchers that 20 years ago was grappling with high-temperature superconductivity is likely today to be pondering topologi- cal insulators and Weyl semimetals. A somewhat distinct community that used to focus around the 1980s on the exotic 2D phenomenon called the quantum Hall effect is now finding common cause. And quantum materials draw inspiration from a third direction too, apparently unlikely at first flush: particle physics, within which some unusual types of fundamental particles proposed around the mid-to-late 20th century are now finding analogues in the quasiparticles of condensed matter. This is not a matter of leaping onboard the latest fancy-titled bandwagon. Rather, it is a reflection of a common experience in physics, whereby concepts developed to explore one phenomenon turn out to be a subset of more general principles. Quantum materials reveal that proper- ties once thought to be quirks confined to exotic conditions are in fact a signifi- cant feature of the materials universe. To turn those ideas into real materials, meanwhile, demands expertise from other fields, involving the skills of syn- thetic solid-state materials chemistry and crystal growth. This union of fundamental physics and practical materials science is turning into one of the most vibrant areas of physical science today. Most of all, it offers a playground for finding and ex- ploring new physics. But there could be practical benefits too: new electronic de- vices, and, in particular, new possibilities for building quantum computers, which would exploit the rules of quantum me- chanics to achieve computational power far in excess of anything the classical computers of today can attain. Early promise Arguably, it all began with supercon- ductivity. It was recognized in the 1950s that the ability of some materials to con- duct electricity without resistance is a phenomenon that demands a quantum explanation. The theory put forward by John Bardeen, Leon Cooper, and Robert Schrieffer (BCS) in 1957 invoked an interaction between mobile conduction electrons, mediated by vibrations of the crystal lattice that unites them into pairs, called Cooper pairs. These pairs can be considered as quasiparticles, which—in contrast to electrons themselves—be- long to the fundamental class of particles called bosons, which have integer values of quantum spin. This makes all the difference. Particles with half-integer spin (fermions), like lone electrons, cannot occupy the same quantum state. However, bosons can, and so Cooper pairs can condense into a quan- tum state in which all the electrons can be described by a single quantum wave func- tion. In effect, they become a collective entity, which is then immune to the dis- turbing effects of electron scattering from the crystal lattice—the source of energy dissipation and electrical resistance. But this collective state can only be sustained at low temperatures; too much thermal noise, and the Cooper pairs are broken, and the material becomes a regular metal. Here, then, is a behavior dictated by quantum mechanical correlations be- tween electrons: the trademark signature of many quantum materials. Yet BCS theory did not seem to work for the class of “high-temperature” superconductors discovered by Georg Bednorz and K. Alex Müller of IBM’s Zurich research laboratories in 1986, some of which proved to have superconducting transi- tion temperatures much higher than the boiling point of liquid nitrogen (77 K). These materials are not metals but ceram- ics: metal oxides with a characteristic lay- ered structure, of which the paradigmatic example was lanthanum copper oxides. Despite several decades of work, there is still no fully satisfactory con- sensus view of how high-temperature https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1557/mrs.2017.220&domain=pdf https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core 699MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS superconductors work. “The complexity of the materials has made arriving at sim- ple models difficult,” says physicist David Ceperley of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. All the same, most researchers agree that the electron cor- relations that must surely lie at the root of the phenomenon are related to both the layered, quasi-2D crystal structure of the materials and to their magnetic behavior. Meanwhile, another strand of exotic quantum properties was evolving in a dif- ferent arena. In 1980, Klaus von Klitzing showed that at low temperatures, the Hall effect—an effect known for a century, in which a voltage across an electrical conductor is created by the influence of a magnetic field on the electron paths— can become quantized. That’s to say, the conductance of a thin, quasi-2D conduc- tor may change in stepwise jumps as the strength of a transverse magnetic field is increased: the quantum Hall effect (QHE). Qualitatively, this quantization is the result of electrons in the 2D material being confined to discrete looping orbits, not unlike those postulated for simple theories of the quantum atom, but much larger in size. These electron states owe their stability to the topological properties of the electronic band structure in the ma- terial. They are in some ways analogous to the topological defects that may appear in crystal structures, such as screw dislo- cations, which, like the whorled crown of hairs on your head, are irreducible con- sequences of shape. These structures are said to be “topologically protected.” Von Klitzing won the 1985 Nobel Prize in Physics for his work (it went to Bednorz and Müller in 1987), and, subsequently, more exotic variants of the QHE were discovered. Robert B. Laughlin, Horst L. Störmer, and Daniel C. Tsui won the 1998 physics Nobel for showing that un- der certain conditions, electrons in a 2D material that are free to move more or less without impediment—a 2D electron gas— can condense into quasiparticle states that also show the QHE, but act as if they are electrons with fractional electric charge. This behavior is called the fractional quan- tum Hall effect (FQHE). It’s still not fully understood, but again collectivity and to- pology of the electron states hold the key. Kissing cones The connections between high-tempera- ture superconductors, the QHE, and 2D electron gases are, in retrospect, clear enough: in particular, the reduced dimen- sionality, interaction of electronic and magnetic or electron-spin properties, and the importance of electron correlations and quasiparticle descriptions. These aspects all come together in the much-vaunted “wonder material” graphene, which is also perhaps the most familiar and celebrated quantum material today. These 2D sheets of pure carbon, the atoms united into hexagonal rings long familiar from the mundane parent material graphite, have been proposed— some would say hyped—as a fabric for the next generation of electronic circuitry and touchscreens. While the real value of graphene in that applied arena remains to be seen, few physicists would dispute that, as a playground for ideas in basic physics, graphene’s potential is already proven. Indeed, it is really for elucidating the strange and often surprising electronic properties of this material—and not for their convenient way of making it by stripping individual layers from graphite using Scotch tape—that Andre Geim and Konstantin Novoselov of The University of Manchester in the UK were awarded the 2010 Nobel Prize in Physics. From a chemist’s point of view, the extended network of conjugated bonds in the graphene sheet creates pathways for mobile electrons that give graphene its electrical conductivity. To the solid-state physicist, more used to describing elec- tronic structure in terms of band theory, the picture is more complex. The pecu- liarity of graphene is that it has the fully filled valence band and empty conduction band of a semiconductor, but with a band- gap between these states that falls to zero at a particular value of electron momen- tum. That is the defining characteristic of a semimetal. That graphene should be a gapless semiconductor has been recognized since its electronic band structure was first calcu- lated in 1947—well before graphene was recognized as a distinct substance rather than just the hypothetical 2D “unit” of graphite. This band structure is typically described in terms of the so-called Fermi surface: loosely speaking, the surface of the volume that electrons in the material occupy in momentum space. For graphene, the Fermi surface sits right at the point Figure 1. The band structure of graphene. The valence (blue/green) and conduction (red/yellow) bands touch at points K and K' in momentum space. Κ Κ' https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS 700 MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin where the conduction and valence bands touch like two cones “kissing” at their apex, and so in theory it seems to have zero area, making graphene a semicon- ductor (see Figure 1). In fact, some of the electron density can leak into the conduc- tion band at these points due to quantum effects, making graphene electrically con- ductive even at zero temperature. The shape of the Fermi surface means that the mobile electrons interact to form collective quasiparticles (see Table I) that act as though they have no mass.1 This enables them to achieve very high speeds—a significant fraction of the speed of light—giving graphene a large electron mobility that could be very useful for high-frequency elec- tronic devices. The quasiparticles must be described by the relativistic form of quantum mechanics devised by physi- cist Paul Dirac in the late 1920s: They are known as Dirac fermions, and they were in fact one of the predictions of Dirac’s theory. Graphene is thus called a 2D “Dirac semimetal.” This sort of relativistic behavior of particles is more familiar to particle phys- icists. Indeed, some quantum relativistic effects that are hard to achieve in particle physics turn out to be easier to arrange in graphene. One of them is called Klein tunneling, a variation on quantum tunnel- ing of particles through barriers, in which, for massless relativistic particles, a barrier can become virtually transparent regard- less of its height and thickness. It is be- cause of this effect, which was observed in 2013,2 that the charge carriers in the 2D structures can remain highly mobile even in the presence of potential scatter- ing sites. On the other hand, this transpar- ency of barriers is a problem for trying to make graphene transistors (at least from single-layer graphene), because it means that the gates that control charge-carrier motion in conventional transistors cannot be fully closed. There is no reason why Dirac semi- metals have to be 2D, although the band structure and the Fermi surface become rather tricky to picture in three dimen- sions. In 2012, Charles Kane, of the University of Pennsylvania, and co-work- ers predicted that three-dimensional (3D) Dirac semimetals ought to exist: their cal- culations suggested that a form of bismuth oxide denoted β-BiO2 might display this property.3 The peculiar electronic proper- ties required for this sort of behavior can be predicted in principle from quantum calculations of band structure, and in the same year, Xi Dai of the Beijing National Laboratory for Condensed Matter Physics in China and his co-workers4 showed that these conditions might be satisfied in so- dium bismuthate (Na3Bi). In a Dirac semimetal, there is no en- ergy gap between the conduction and valence bands, but strictly speaking no overlap either: they touch at a single point, where the apices of the “Dirac cones” meet. In Na3Bi, these electron states are comprised from the atomic electron orbitals of sodium (the 3s or- bitals) and bismuth (the 6p orbitals). Classically, we would expect these orbi- tals to “mix” into hybrid electronic states, which would change the band structure and open up an energy gap: they would become semiconductors (for a small gap) or insulators. But that doesn’t happen because certain symmetry properties of the electron states forbid such mixing. As physicist Nai Phuan Ong of Princeton University says, “the electronic proper- ties arise from states that are protected by symmetry.” In particular, the conduct- ing states have time-reversal symmetry: it makes no difference if one writes t or –t in their quantum wave functions. It’s a little like the way the symmetry of per- mitted moves prevents bishops in chess Table I. Quasiparticles in quantum materials. Cooper pair Two electrons may become coupled via vibrations of the underlying atomic lattice in conventional (Bardeen–Cooper–Schrieffer) superconductors, producing a composite electron-pair quasiparticle, a boson with integer spin (0 or 1). As bosons, these quasiparticles can condense into a ground state described by a single wave function, producing the phenomenon of superconductivity. Relativistic Dirac fermion All known fermionic (spin-½) particles, such as electrons, are Dirac fermions, described (with their corresponding antiparticles) by Paul Dirac’s relativistic quantum wave equation. Quasiparticle relativistic Dirac fermions, such as many-electron excitations in Dirac semimetals, behave as though they have no mass and have the same speed at all energies. Weyl fermion These are massless fermions related to Dirac fermions. They have a chirality or handedness depending on whether their momentum is aligned or anti- aligned with their spin. Each Dirac fermion can be resolved into two Weyl fermions of opposite chirality. Never observed as fundamental particles, they are seen as electron quasiparticle excitations in Weyl semimetals. Laughlin quasiparticle The fractional quantum Hall effect (FQHE) in a 2D “electron gas” involves collective electron quasiparticles that behave as though they have a fractional charge, such as 1/3, 2/5, or 3/7, the charge on a single electron. Physicist Robert Laughlin proposed this quasiparticle picture of the FQHE in 1983. Majorana fermion Hypothetical particle proposed in 1937, which is its own anti- particle. These might arise as quasiparticle excitations in superconductors. They are potential ingredients for topological quantum computers. Anyon Hypothetical particle proposed by Frank Wilczek in 1982, which can have quantum statistics anywhere on a continuum between fermions (half-integer spin) and bosons (integer spin). They might appear as quasiparticles in quantum spin liquids, but have not been definitively identified yet. Skyrmion Originally predicted as an exotic kind of baryon (the constituents of most ordinary matter) in 1962, skyrmions have been found to exist in the form of vortex-like topological quasiparticle excitations of spins in some magnetic materials. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core 701MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS from crossing onto squares of a different color: it can’t be done. While the Dirac cones in 2D graph- ene are symmetry-protected, there’s an extra degree of such protection in 3D Dirac semimetals such as Na3Bi, which comes from the topology of the electron states—more akin to the prohibition of transforming a left-handed glove into a right-handed one. Because of this, 3D Dirac semimetals are said to be “topo- logical semimetals.” In 2014, Dai collaborated with Yulin Chen of the University of Oxford in the UK to verify his prediction for Na3Bi. 5 Measurements using electron photoemis- sion spectroscopy revealed that the en- ergy and momentum of electrons in the material have the characteristics expected for a 3D Dirac semimetal. Independently and at the same time, two international groups that both included researchers from Princeton University described another 3D Dirac semimetal, cadmium arsenide (Cd3As2). 6,7 Dirac fermions can be regarded as the combination of two related massless par- ticles called Weyl fermions, which have a chiral twist or handedness to them: in a Dirac fermion, the two twists cancel out. To resolve Dirac fermions into their constituent Weyl fermions, one can split them with an applied magnetic field. In effect, the field destroys the time-reversal symmetry, because—for electron-based quasiparticles—it aligns most of the electron spins to break the symmetry: re- verse time, and they would have opposite spin. In momentum space, this process corresponds to the splitting of the Dirac cone into two Weyl cones. Formally, this is analogous to the splitting apart of the poles of a magnetic field: the nodes of each Weyl cone then correspond to a “monopole,” a hypothetical magnetic entity with just an isolated north or south pole. It’s not known how one might cre- ate a genuine magnetic monopole—chop a bar magnet in half and you create two new poles at the new ends. But magnetic monopoles are predicted to exist in some fundamental theories in particle physics, such as string theory. In a quantum material that behaves as a Dirac semimetal, however, you can make the equivalent of these monopoles, namely the corresponding Weyl-fermion quasiparticles. “Weyl nodes must always come in pairs,” Ong explains. “Just like magnetic monopoles, it is difficult to pull the pair apart. But an advantage in condensed matter is that one can go to the surface of a crystal where such op- erations—forbidden in the bulk—may become feasible.” In that way, one might create a Weyl semimetal. While such ma- terials would contain Weyl nodes in the bulk, only at the surface is symmetry broken in a way that produces the gap- less “kissing” of Weyl cones. In 2015, Zahid Hasan at Princeton and his collab- orators predicted that tantalum arsenide (TaAs) might act as a Weyl semimetal,8 and shortly thereafter, they verified ex- perimentally, again using photoelectron spectroscopy, that this is so.9 One of the reasons for a fundamen- tal interest in these systems is that, as analogues of the particle-physics context in which they were first observed, they should exhibit some of the peculiarities of such systems. Massless Weyl fermi- ons were invoked in the 1960s to explain why particles called neutral pions decay so fast. This decay can create an apparent nonconservation of charge in the chiral fermions, called the chiral anomaly. It was predicted in 1983 that this anomaly might be found in material analogue systems, and in 2015, Ong and his Princeton col- laborators saw it in Na3Bi. 10 Making new particles in materials The 3D Dirac semimetals predicted by Kane in 2012 had another curious feature. They are electrical insulators, but as Ong says, at surfaces different constraints may apply. In this case, the surface electrons may be confined to 2D conducting states: they are metallic. What’s more, in these states electron scattering becomes negligible, purely because of the topological shape of the band structure. For this reason, the states are topologically protected: even if there is a considerable amount of disorder or impurities at the material surface, which might be expected to disrupt electrical conductivity in an ordinary material, the conducting states persist. Such materials are said to be topological insulators, and they supply another key focus of current interest in quantum materials.11 After the discovery of the first topological insu- lator, bismuth antimonide (BixSb1–x), 12 a variety of other candidates have been identified, including bismuth and anti- mony selenides and tellurides. They are predicted to occur, for example, in a wide range of complex materials called Heusler compounds.13 Topological insulators represent a confluence of several themes concerning the exotic electron behavior in materials with unusual topological features of their band structure. “The field of topological insulators is an offspring of QHE phys- ics and quantum spin physics, with high- temperature superconductivity sneaking in some genes,” Ong says. But research on topological matter has now expanded well beyond QHE physics, he adds. For one thing, it has reignited interest in a host of unusual hypothetical particles (see Table I). Take skyrmions, a breed of particle first predicted in the 1960s in a particle-physics context. Skyrmions can be realized as quasiparticles in certain magnetic materials, where they take the form of vortex-like quasiparticle excita- tions created by topological constraints on the orientation of the magnetic spins. They have been identified in the chiral magnet manganese silicide.14 Another exotic particle potentially realizable as a quasiparticle in quantum materials is the anyon. Originally hy- pothesized by theoretical physicist Frank Wilczek in 1982, the anyon is a strange in- termediate between the two conventional classes (like photons) and fermions (like electrons). These are usually regarded as two mutually exclusive classes (al- though the theory called supersymmetry, for which particle physicists have yet to find validating experimental support, sug- gests that they can be unified by invoking a particular kind of symmetry). Anyons, however, reject that dichotomy; they can exhibit quantum statistics anywhere be- tween those of bosons and fermions. Anyon statistics are again a conse- quence of topological considerations. In effect, exchanging any two such https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS 702 MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin particles—the operation that distin- guishes the exclusivity of fermions from the sociability of bosons—involves a tan- gling or “braiding” of their world-lines in spacetime, which means the particles can acquire any arbitrary increment in the phase of their quantum wave functions. For bosons and fermions, in contrast, this phase increment is either 0 or π, so the two particles either superimpose or can- cel exactly. This odd property of anyons, seemingly forbidden in ordinary particle physics, becomes possible for particles confined in two dimensions, which sug- gests that 2D quantum materials might be the place to look for the quasiparticle analogues of such objects. In fact, the vortex-like, fractionally charged quasiparticles observed in the FQHE, seen in thin films of metallic ma- terial in the presence of a strong magnetic field, have anyon-like features, as first re- ported in a fractional quantum Hall fluid in 2005,15 by observing quantum interfer- ence behavior between the quasiparticle states. Good candidates for hosting anyon quasiparticles more directly, however, are the class of quantum materials called quantum spin liquids (see p. 703). They haven’t been seen yet, but the hunt is on.16 Aside from the fundamental interest, there is good practical reason for want- ing to make them, since a certain type of anyon has been proposed as the quan- tum bit for making error-proof quantum computers called topological quantum computers.17 Similar to anyons, Majorana fermi- ons are unusual hypothetical particles that acquire their properties from top- ological constraints on their “world- lines”—the hypothetical trajectories they can be considered to trace out through spacetime. Again first identi- fied as a theoretical possibility in par- ticle physics, Majorana fermions have the unusual property that, unlike familiar fermions such as electrons, they do not have an antiparticle counterpart because they are their own antiparticle. They too emerge as a prediction of Dirac’s rela- tivistic quantum theory. Like anyons, Majorana fermions could potentially serve as qubits for to- pological quantum computers, in which they would be controlled and manipulated to process information. However, making them is still a challenge. Whereas anyons are predicted in 2D systems, Majorana fer- mions are zero-dimensional. In one view, they are predicted to appear at the ends of a one-dimensional conducting nanowire coupled to a superconducting electrode, in the presence of a magnetic field.18 Possible signatures of such quasiparticles have been reported for indium antimonide (InSb) and arsenide (InAs) nanowires with supercon- ducting contacts, although the evidence still falls short of definitive proof.19,20 The manifestation of such exotic behaviors induced by topological con- straints on the electronic degrees of free- dom constitutes “the biggest intellectual leap” that quantum materials represent, according to physicist Stephen Blundell of the University of Oxford. It shows that “what seemed to be a peculiarity of the quantum Hall effect can be realized in many materials in less stringently con- trolled experimental systems,” he says. “Topologically protected states have the advantage that they are resistant to disorder and defects and therefore can persist in the sometimes messy condi- tion that afflicts real materials,” Blundell adds. “It’s not yet clear what they might be useful for, but topological quantum computing is a possibility.” It was recent- ly shown that, at least in one dimension, symmetry-protected topological phases of matter quite generally contain quantum “resources” that can be exploited for ef- ficient computation;21 they can be consid- ered a “computational phase of matter.” Quantum criticality One of the most celebrated features of quantum theory is uncertainty: crudely, the idea that you cannot si- multaneously know everything that is knowable in principle about a quan- tum system. This notion, enshrined in Werner Heisenberg’s uncertainty prin- ciple, is not an expression of ignorance or clumsiness—it’s not that we can’t measure properties carefully enough— but rather reflects the fact that some properties of quantum systems can’t simultaneously exist in a well-defined way alongside others. A consequence of quantum uncertain- ty is that some properties of a quantum system may fluctuate even at zero tem- perature. Such behavior is predicted for a wide range of systems that demand a quantum description, including supercon- ductors and heavy-fermion metals—in- termetallic compounds with f orbital elec- trons, such as CeCu6, CeAl3, and UPt3, in which the charge carriers are quasi- particles of strongly correlated electrons with a collective mass much greater than that of individual electrons. Such systems have two possible states even at absolute zero: an orderly one (such as a magneti- cally ordered material), and one in which quantum fluctuations disrupt the order. The two states are separated by a quantum phase transition demarcating the point at which fluctuations dominate. This transi- tion is entirely analogous to the critical points known in classical statistical me- chanics, for example in ferromagnets and liquids and gases, where the critical point marks the end of any clear distinction be- tween the two phases. The difference is that in quantum criticality, the fluctuations are not thermal but driven by quantum uncertainty. Quantum criticality has emerged as a rather general framework for understand- ing quantum behavior in diverse materi- als.22 It has been seen, for example, in the magnetic states of heavy-fermion systems such as CeCu6. 23 The surprising thing is that a quantum critical point does not go away at temperatures above zero; the re- gion in which quantum fluctuations over- whelm the system is predicted to broaden at finite temperatures. “It is this influence that elevates quan- tum criticality from an intellectual ab- straction at absolute zero to a real-world phenomenon that can profoundly change finite-temperature material properties,” according to physicists Piers Coleman and Andrew Schofield.24 Just as cosmic black holes distort the surrounding spacetime, quantum critical points distort the “fabric” of the phase diagram, creating a V-shaped region of “quantum critical matter” fanning out at finite temperatures from the quantum critical point. Such a broadening regime of quantum criticality was reported in https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core 703MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS 2014 in the magnetic material CoNb2O6, in which the magnetic spins are coupled in one-dimensional chains.25 The fluctuations of a quantum critical point can drive electrons to reorganize themselves close to the transition into new phases. For this reason, Coleman and Schofield say, “quantum criticality may be a highly effective catalyst for the formation of new stable types of mate- rial behavior, providing an important new route for the design and discovery of new classes of material.” One particularly important class of materials thought to feel the influence of quantum criticality is high-tempera- ture superconductors.26 Nicholas Butch of the University of Maryland and co- workers have reported a signature of quantum criticality in the copper-oxide ceramic La2–xCexCuO4, 27 with the su- perconducting phase separated from a conventional “Fermi liquid” metallic phase by a region of “non-Fermi liquid” behavior at temperatures below the nor- mal superconducting transition tempera- ture of around 10–17 K, where there are strong fluctuations of the copper spins. The researchers concluded that quantum criticality plays a significant role in shap- ing the phase diagram of this and other electron-doped copper-oxide systems. There are two quantum critical points in this system, closely spaced in the phase space defined by the temperature, doping level, and applied magnetic field. Their effects compete: one stabilizes the super- conducting phase, the other originates from the suppression of superconduc- tivity by a magnetic field, and between them, they define the region of phase space where superconductivity pertains. It’s also thought that quantum critical- ity plays a role in the “unconventional” superconductivity of some other systems with strongly correlated electrons, such as iron pnictides28 and heavy-fermion metals.29 The latter materials are one of the best- studied systems in which strong correla- tions between electrons create quasipar- ticle behavior, with the effective charge carriers having many times the mass of an electron. Many have rich phase diagrams at low temperatures where quantum effects dominate. In addition to super- conductivity and quantum critical points, some heavy-fermion metals exhibit the so-called Kondo effect: an interaction be- tween a local magnetic moment created by f-shell electrons and the spins of the delocalized conduction electrons in the material. This interaction can lead to the opening up of a small bandgap, making the material insulating—a Kondo insula- tor—at very low temperatures. The first Kondo insulator to be recognized, samar- ium hexaboride (SmB6), was discovered almost 50 years ago;30 many others have subsequently been found. In a further illustration of the deep connections between the cluster of ideas that underpin quantum materials, it was recognized in 2010 that Kondo insulators may possess topologically protected me- tallic surface states: they are versions of topological insulators.31,32 This behavior was confirmed experimentally in SmB6 two years later.33,34 “Topological Kondo insulators tie together the nominally dis- parate subfields of strong electron correla- tions and topological electronic states,” Butch says. These exotic materials might never find “applications” in the techno- logical sense; their value is rather to show how various parts of the story of quantum materials fit together. Spin liquids and quantum magnetism One might say the same about another class of quantum materials, called quan- tum spin liquids. In the 1970s, Nobel laureate physicist Philip W. Anderson pointed out that some magnetic materi- als might be geometrically incapable of aligning all their spins in a single, most stable manner to form a well-defined, orderly magnetic phase. Imagine an an- tiferromagnet—in which adjacent spins prefer to be oppositely oriented—on a tri- angular lattice. Each spin has two nearest neighbors in a triangle, but the antiparallel alignment cannot be satisfied for all of the trio. One possibility is that the spin lattice freezes into a disordered “glassy” state, but Anderson showed that quantum mechanics allows the possibility of fluc- tuating spins even at absolute zero. This state is called a quantum spin liquid, and Anderson later suggested that it might be connected to high-temperature supercon- ductivity in copper oxides.35 “A spin glass is a structure where spins freeze in an effectively disordered configuration at some non-zero tempera- ture,” explains Stephen Nagler of Oak Ridge National Laboratory (ORNL) in Tennessee. “Spin liquids, on the other hand, remain disordered down to zero Figure 2. Honeycomb crystal structure of the candidate quantum spin liquid α-RuCl3. Image courtesy of Arnab Banerjee, Oak Ridge National Laboratory. Ru Cl https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS 704 MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin temperature but do not freeze as such at a non-zero temperature.” In quantum spin liquids, this dynamical disorder is quantum mechanical in origin: the spins exhibit zero-point motion, lacking a sta- tionary ground state even at absolute zero. “Quantum spin liquids are currently where some of the most active theoreti- cal and experimental work [on quantum materials] is going on,” Blundell says. However, they are hard to study experi- mentally. “The problem with realizing spin liquids experimentally is that they are bal- anced on a knife edge,” Blundell explains. “When they are cooled down, they should show no order even down to absolute zero, but as you cool them down, all sorts of minor effects that you can ignore at high temperature start to come into play.” Quantum spin liquids should appear in materials with particular kinds of mag- netic structures (e.g., antiferromagnets with triangular lattices). Nagler and his co-workers at ORNL have reported the possible signature of one such variety of a quantum spin liquid, revealed by neutron scattering from both powder36 and single crystals37 in the alpha phase of ruthenium trichloride (α-RuCl3) (see Figure 2), which has a layered quasi-2D hexagonal structure. This is not itself a spin liquid, but it is thought to be close to such a state—specifically, close to a special theoretical case called a Kitaev spin liquid, in which the spins exist on a 2D honeycomb lattice that is frustrated, meaning that there’s no way of aligning the spins so that each enjoys the most fa- vorable interactions with all its neighbors. The Kitaev spin liquid model was once thought to be rather artificial, but it’s now thought that not just RuCl3 but also some iridate compounds might be good candi- dates for embodying it.38 What’s more, there is evidence that quantum spin liq- uids exist in other geometrically frustrat- ed triangular-lattice materials, including the natural copper mineral herbertsmithite, Ca10Cr7O28 39 and YbMgGaO4. 40 But the signature of a true quantum spin liquid is not very clear. When a material enters this state, there is no change in the symmetry of the system, and so one does not see the marked signatures typical of other magnetic phase transitions, such as spikes in the thermodynamic quantities like specific heat. And the excitations of a quantum spin liquid at low temperature are not well-defined in the same way as in ordinary magnets, Nagler says. As a result, he admits, “I think it is still some- what of an open question as to whether true quantum spin liquids have been ob- served experimentally.” What’s more, a quantum spin glass is strictly defined only at absolute zero, but no one can make measurements there. The magnetic and electronic structures can become coupled in interesting ways in such materials. Quantum spin liquids may have Dirac nodes like those of Dirac semimetals, and the electrons are expect- ed to congregate into quasiparticles with fractional charge, like those in the FQHE. “Mostly, quantum spin liquids are intel- lectually interesting,” as opposed to hav- ing obvious practical value, says physicist Steven Kivelson of Stanford University. “They are entirely new phases of quantum matter, generalizing notions developed in the context of the FQHE and conventional superconductors—both of which are states with considerable structure in common with spin liquids.” Still, applications are not entirely out of the picture. For example, the Kitaev model for quantum spin liquids predicts that the electrons could form excited-state, topologically protected quasiparticles cor- responding to Majorana fermions, raising the possibility of using quantum spin liq- uids for topological quantum computing. But that’s a dim prospect at best. “Perhaps it is possible that this type of research will one day lead to a useful technology for quantum computing or other applications,” Nagler says, “but we are a long way off from using quantum spin liquids in this way.” However, he adds, “we are break- ing ground in elucidating the behavior of complex materials, and in the long run, I believe that knowledge is very likely to be useful in some fashion, perhaps one that we have not yet thought of.” Emergence Today one can hardly pick up a journal that publishes condensed-matter physics with- out seeing a rash of papers on quantum ma- terials, particularly those whose electronic properties are influenced by topological factors. Yet if anything, the field seems ready to expand further. Andrei Bernevig of Princeton University and co-workers recently revealed how much space there is to expand into, and identified a wide range of new candidate topological and strongly correlated materials by combin- ing chemical intuition with physical theory to find a shortcut to the prediction of in- teresting band structures41—in effect, a tractable theory of topological quantum chemistry. They identified several known materials likely to yield such phases, such as strained lead suboxide Pb2O. The elec- tron correlations that are essential to the behavior of many of these quantum materi- als mean that one cannot understand them by thinking about how electrons behave in isolation. The electronic behaviors are an emergent property, much as is the flocking of birds or the mound building of termites. The collective phenomena cannot be de- duced simply by adding up the behaviors of individual constituents. In lieu of “quan- tum materials,” says Butch, “personally I prefer the term emergence, and I’m not sure why it didn’t catch on.” The concept of emergent or collective behavior, he says, “was a foundation of strongly correlated electron research”—in superconductors and heavy fermions, for example—“and it has been recognized as an important concept in topological materials.” Perhaps this is the way to delimit the otherwise almost indefinite scope of quan- tum materials. Some researchers would like to see the term used very broadly to cover all materials whose properties are strongly dictated by quantum mechan- ics—for example, quantum dots, particles of matter so small that the energy states of the electrons are altered from their bulk values by the quantum mechanical influ- ence of confinement. But those effects can be understood by considering the states of single electrons, in contrast to the quasipar- ticles that typify most quantum materials. Are such quantum-confinement effects then to be considered one of the “exotic physical properties” included in the DOE definition? The loose wording might make that a matter of personal preference. But this looseness is what recommends the definition to some researchers. “It’s about https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core 705MRS BULLETIN • VOLUME 42 • OC TOBER 2017 • www.mrs.org/bulletin NEWS & ANALYSIS MATERIALS NEWS right,” Blundell says. “Of course, in a sense, all materials are quantum, but I think what we have in mind when we talk about a quantum material is those cases when specific material properties derive more spectacularly from seemingly unusual quantum states.” Others are less sanguine. “I’m not sure the DOE definition is that helpful,” Ceperley says. “‘Exotic’ is a term that de- pends on your reference. It reminds me of similar discussions over the term ‘nano.’” Ceperley thinks that another definition would be “materials whose properties are not well described by independent electron theory,” echoing Butch’s focus on collec- tivity and emergence. But Kivelson, who is a founding editor of the new journal npj Quantum Materials, takes a wider view, seeing the field as “a very broad set of top- ics having largely to do with the electronic properties of novel solids and solid-state devices in which the quantum character of the electrons is important.” It is, Kivelson suggests, really not much more or less than “sort of what used to be called ‘hard condensed-matter physics.’” What’s in a name, though? The bigger issue is the way research on quantum ma- terials is forging new links between diverse disciplines and ideas, expanding the mate- rials universe while at the same time show- ing how common themes govern the prop- erties of matter, so that substances with compositions and structures that might make the theoretical physicist blanch are, after all, more familiar than they might seem. As the 19th century essayist Ralph Waldo Emerson put it, “Nature is an end- less combination and repetition of a very few laws. 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A publication of the PROCEEDINGS LIBRARY ARCHIVE   Publishing Research Snapshots from MRS VOLUME 1 • NO 1, 2011 A publication of the  For quantum materials-related articles in the MRS publications portfolio, visit: www.mrs.org/quantum https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at http://www.arxiv.org/abs/1705.01740 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1557/mrs.2017.220 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_vvnagy2yqbbavnsht4xvll4xz4	----	A Very Crucial Turning Point in One's Life: College/University Choice Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 1877-0428 © 2013 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Selection and/or peer-review under responsibility of Academic World Education and Research Center. doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2014.01.333 ScienceDirect 5th World Conference on Educational Sciences - WCES 2013 A very crucial turning point in one’s life: College/University choice Linda Green a *, Gul Celkan* Macon State College, Macon, Georgia, 31206, USA Macon State College, Macon, Georgia, 31206, USA Abstract This study aims to find the factors that impact students’ college choice in different contexts. The researchers will be doing a cross-cultural study in order to see whether students in the USA and Turkey share the same or different concerns during this entire process. Since college is a determining factor in the profession students will be trained to practice, the researchers believe it will be interesting to see what kinds of issues students are considering while making their choices in both cultures. A questionnaire will be used in this cross-cultural study and will be administered in the three different institutions. This current study will use gender as the variable to understand how gender becomes instrumental in making the college choice. Keywords: College choice, gender, recriuitment, campus location and proximity 1. Introduction As of the very first day one embarks on the journey we may simply call “education,” one plunges into an ocean full of new venture. Each venture takes one up to a higher level until the time comes when the student has to decide whether to seek higher education and, if so, has to determine which college to attend (for the purpose of this study, the terms “college” and “university” are used to imply an institution of higher learning). According to the Carnegie Foundation, for most young people, the decision to attend college is probably the most important decision they will have made in their lives thus far. This is the choice that will help a person build for the future and a critical decision that will shape his or her life for years to come. John Dewey says education is the social continuity of life (Dewey, 1916, p.10). It is only education, he asserts, that fills the gap between the immature and the civilized. With the growing needs of our present day societies, and the rapid developments occurring in all aspects of life, Dewey’s statement becomes justified. As early as the 1930s, Dewey was a proponent of hands on learning or experiential education, and considering the new generation of college students, it is apparent that their educational aspirations are inclined toward Project Based Learning rather than traditional tuition when making their college choices. All candidates have their own aspirations to fulfill. In his 1837 speech “The American Scholar,” Ralph Waldo Emerson said that educators should, “set the hearts of their youth on fire.” It is of vital importance that students * Corresponding:Linda Green. Tel.: +1 478 7881239 E-mail address: linda.green@maconstate.edu Available online at www.sciencedirect.com © 2013 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Selection and/or peer-review under responsibility of Academic World Education and Research Center. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ 991 Linda Green and Gul Celkan / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 should be encouraged to find the best college that nurtures the knowledge they are in pursuit of. Hence schools play a significant role in shaping the goals students have set for themselves. "There is, perhaps, no college decision that is more thought-provoking, gut wrenching and rest-of-your life oriented - or disoriented - than the choice of [college].” (St. John. In Beggs et. al., 2006, p. 381) In the college classroom, one confronts students who are either overwhelmingly happy for being where they are, or utterly regretful for having made that choice. It should not be forgotten that in some cultures parents have a great role in the decision- making process. Such parents put pressure on the youth, and rather than letting them choose a college according to their talents, capabilities, aptitude and perhaps most importantly their aspirations, parents fulfill their own dreams through their children. As such is the case in some cultures, it is worthwhile dwelling on this issue from the perspective of the population of this study that is comprised of two distinct cultures: Turkish and American. In Turkey, it is a very common practice to see some teenagers sitting in the college classroom in a very irresponsive way. This is due to parental influence. These students have two options: They either have to major in an area they have no interest in or leave school, and stay at home. This would mean boys would fulfill their military obligation while girls would get married to the man of their parent’s choice. Parents would want their young adult teens to have not just any but prestigious professions in the future that they could brag about. Medical schools or engineering schools are at the top of their list. Through private tutoring and constant support/pressure, such parents would make sure their teens score high points in the university entrance examination. In the USA, the situation is rather different. Whether it is a state college or a private one that students go to, they still have to pay for tuition. Rates change tremendously from school to school, and that is the point where students feel some parental influence because it is the parents who have to cover the tuition and other costs if the student cannot get financial aid or a scholarship. However, many parents leave it to their teenagers to decide what program they want to pursue at the college and which college they will attend. This study aims to find the factors that impact students’ college choice in different contexts. The researchers will be doing a cross-cultural study in order to see whether students in Turkey and in the USA share the same or different concerns during this entire process. In order to better understand how they acted throughout the entire ordeal, the researchers first elicited responses to understand how the students approached the colleges they considered as a possibility. When we consider the youth of today to that of the past, it is apparent that they want to embark on a life of their own once they are out of high school. Do they also aspire to leave the home area when they go to college? Is this situation valid in both cultures? Do both cultures allow teens in this age group to proclaim their independence that soon? The survey responses are expected to show how they compare, another important factor. A further decisive factor among the self-conscious students is how they perceive education, educational standards, educational facilities, and what the institution will do for them once they are out of school. This current study aims to pinpoint how students, based on their gender differences, conceive higher education when they are on the verge of making such an important decision. Since college is a determining factor in the profession students will be trained to practice, the researchers believe it will be interesting to see what students consider while making their college choices in both cultures. Scholars in different parts of the world have studied this issue, as well. Beggs et.al., (2006) conducted their research using a holistic approach very similar to what the writers of this paper have planned to implement from the very start, and hence have a qualitative and quantitative study which will better explain the factors that affect choices students make on the road to tertiary education. A Russian scholar, O.M. Razumnikova, in her article “The Interaction Between Gender Stereotypes and Life Values as Factors in the Choice of Profession,” mentions the gender differences in the entire process stating, “In spite of the proclaimed ‘equal opportunities’ for men and women when it comes to acquiring some profession, stereotypical notions about “men’s” or “women’s” specialties… still hold sway among a substantial portion of the population” (Razumnikova, 2005, p. 21). Therefore, this current study will use gender to understand how gender becomes instrumental in making a college choice. 2. Background of the Study High school senior year students, whether it be the Turkish pretext or the American pretext, feel overwhelming pressure due to the fact that they have to make their choices. It is the choice that will build their future, and therefore 992 Linda Green and Gul Celkan / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 will need imminent attention. Not only the internal factors but numerous external factors have to be considered as well. Tierney, Houang and Henson in their joint paper "Alternative Estimation Procedures for Studies of Student College Choice Behavior: A Cross-Validation Analysis," presented a model of influences that explains the public versus private matriculation decision. They propose that the probability of a student's decision to matriculate in a public institution is a function of the student's sex, ability, family income, institutional tuition, distance from the institution, institutional selectivity, and total financial aid offers (Tierney et.al., 1979, p. 30). All related literature suggest that external influences can be categorized under three headings. These are namely the influence of significant persons as to where a student will live and study during the college years, the institution’s efforts to be able to reach out to prospective students, and the popularity, appeal, and ranking of the institution. Students in Turkey and the USA do feel these influences help shape their expectancies of college life. 3. Literature Review Research has been carried out across both countries, as it is an imminent concern to the colleges to know how their prospective students make their choices, and what criteria they use during the decision making process about applications, opportunities, fees, popularity, location, financial aid, and other similar points. Mattern and Wyatt state that students often consider the location, specifically the distance from home, of a college when narrowing down the ones they want to apply to. Despite this fact, they claim, there is a limited amount of research investigating actual student behavior. The Higher Education Research Institute (HERI) published a study (Pryor et al. 2005) that indicated that first-generation students, students whose parents have no college experience, are more likely to stay closer to home (Mattern and Wyatt, 2009). All literature related to this study agrees unanimously that college search requires all students to ask themselves how they want their colleges to look, what matters the most, and what shortcomings they will tolerate in areas outside their primary requirements (Shaw et.al., 2009). The variables students usually resort to as they make their choice are academic performance, demographic characteristics, home and school characteristics, and participation in school activities. Hossler, Braxton, and Coopersmith describe student college choice as “a complex, multistage process during which an individual develops aspirations to continue formal education beyond high school, then later makes a decision to attend a specific college, university or institution of advanced vocational training” (Hossler et.al., 1989, p. 238). Each and every student has his/her own aspirations, and hence makes the choices in line with these aspirations. Bergerson (2009) writes that the process of choosing whether and where to go to college is conceived of as a linear process in which students develop aspirations for college (even as they commence their search for potential colleges to attend) and finally choose a particular college in which they enroll. Bergerson (2009) and Teranishi, Ceja, Antonio, Allen, and McDonough (2004) have pointed out that the most widely cited and used process model known as the three-stage model was developed by Hossler and Gallagher (1987). This model posits that student college choice is a developmental process, consisting of three developmental stages: predisposition, search, and choice. Predisposition, the first stage, refers to the period when students develop aspirations for college and decide whether to go to college or choose other alternatives, such as work or military service. Search is the second stage; students actively seek information on specific institutions and develop a list of colleges to which they intend to apply. Choice is the final stage in which students complete applications and choose a particular college to enter (207). It has also been pointed out by researchers that visits to colleges can provide opportunities for … deeper evaluation, allowing students to ask themselves whether or not a school feels like the right place for them. It is important to find a place where the type of people present and the philosophy of the institution align with the prospective student’s personal interests, goals and values (Martin, 2009). Beggs et.al., (2006) in their study state that every institution [has] to consider its own unique qualities including the pool from which its student body is recruited. They also mention the fact that socioeconomic background, number of first generation college students, and geographic focus of recruiting will have an impact on how career related information should be packaged and delivered. 993 Linda Green and Gul Celkan / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 Applying to college is a rigorous process based on a reciprocal relationship between students and institutions, as both actively search to meet their own needs and aspirations for the best education and student body, respectively (Rubin, 2008). 4. Methodology This paper is a cross-sectional survey since the researchers are interested in the opinions of a group of people about a particular issue. In this type of research, information is collected through asking questions in order to describe the beliefs of a sample population (Frankel and Warren, 2008, p. 390). As with all surveys, the problem has been defined, the target population has been identified, and the mode of data collection has been determined. As Frankel and Warren suggest, the inventory was directly administered to students at Macon State College (MSC) in the U.S., and Aegean University and Bilgi University in Turkey. Demographic questions were used to gather information about the students and their background. Variables were gender, age, school type, and education of the mother and father. Data collected was analyzed to see if there were relationships between variables. The study attempted to understand the students’ reasons for college selection. 5. Data Analysis and Results The main concern of the researchers in this study was to learn the students’ reasons for choosing a college. The population consisted of eighty-five students. Forty of the students were from Macon State College (MSC) in the U.S., twenty of the students from Aegean University in Turkey, and twenty-five students (all male) from Bilgi University in Turkey. The gender frequency was 44 males, or 52%, and the frequency of females was 41, or 48%. The age range was 16-56, with only 5 students older than the age of 19. Every student, except one, attended public schools. The education of the mothers and fathers was very similar. Since age, school type, and parental education coincided, it was decided that gender would be the only useful variable to use. The surveys were translated into English and Turkish. Fifteen questions were asked, with multiple answers to choose from. Based on the data gathered from the return of a total of eighty-five usable questionnaires (100% of the returns), the researchers determined these particular students made up their minds about college choice by using college recruiting practices, using issues of whether to stay in the same home area or not, and using decisions related to the quality of education they would receive. Pertaining to college recruiting practices, all students agreed (questions 9 & 12) that campus visits where they could meet with current students were very important to them. MSC students and Bilgi male students agreed on question 11 that they benefited, also, from the information colleges provided on their Internet web pages. Male and female students from Aegean totally disagreed and did not find the Internet web pages to be reliable. These results are a striking contrast since today most students rely on Internet information to help them make decisions. Question #6 asked students to rank which campus activities were more important to them – education, social/cultural, or sports. Students at the three institutions stated education was most important. Social/cultural ranked as second, and sports ranked as third in importance. Students were asked how much of their college decision was based on a preference to stay home, or close by, or to leave the area (questions 1 & 2). MSC students who are attending a college in their area cited affordability and parental pressure to stay close to home. Aegean and Bilgi students attending the university in their area said that the university was as good as ones elsewhere. The Aegean females and Bilgi males further indicated that they would prefer to stay close to home. Male students at MSC and Aegean who wanted to leave the area cited the reason as being they thought they would receive a better education if they left. Female MSC students who wanted to leave the area gave no specific reason. Female Aegean students said if they left the region that they would leave in order to learn about new cultures. All students who responded that they wanted to relocate cited the desire to assume more responsibility. When students were asked if they planned transfer (question 3), the majority of students said “no,” except for MSC females who answered “yes.” For question 13, all students answered that the proximity of the campus was a decisive factor in their decision-making. Question 14 asked where students would choose to live. All males 994 Linda Green and Gul Celkan / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 answered that they would prefer to live with their family. All females answered that they would prefer to share a house with others. All answers indicated that the level of education they received should be at the highest standards and that the qualifications of the faculty were very important to the students. Turkish students were particularly concerned (questions 5 & 7) that their diploma would be recognized internationally. Aegean males and MSC students did not seem as concerned about international job possibilities. The students further indicated that a good education would lead to a good job, and that was their ultimate goal. 6. Conclusion As this study included students from two distinct backgrounds and cultures, i.e., Turkey and the USA, the researchers were expecting diverse responses as to how these students make their college choices. However, due to their similar background characteristics and the remarkable similarity of their responses, the only variable that proved useful in the study was gender. The only question that revealed a great difference in the way of thinking between the US and Turkish students was that the Turkish students, and females in particular, were concerned the diploma should be recognized internationally and the level of education should be at internationally accepted standards. There are many factors that affect college choice. The questionnaire asked students about college costs, what they expected to find in a college, how they went about familiarizing themselves with college, parental pressure, and many other influential issues. Out of all the questions asked to these students from the two countries, the majority of the responses focused on college recruitment practices, issues of whether to stay in the home area or not, and decisions related to the quality of education they would receive at the college of their choice. Despite the limitations the researchers encountered throughout the entire process, the results give an insight into how students in both countries go about making one of the most important decisions of their life – college choice. Acknowledgement The researchers would like to thank Dr. Samil Erdogan from Bilgi University, Istanbul and Ms. Melek Secer from Aegean University, Izmir for administering the questionnaires in their classrooms. References Beggs, J. M., Bantham, J.H. & Taylor, S. (2006). Distinguishing the factors influencing college students' choice of major. College Student Journal. 42 ( 2), 381-394. Bergerson, A. A. (2009). College choice and access to college: Moving policies, research and practice to the 21st century. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Chapman, David W. (1981). A model of student college choice. The Journal of Higher Education, 52 (5), 490-505. Dewey, John. (1916). Democracy and education, an introduction to the philosophy of education. New York: Macmillan. Frankel, J.R. & Wallen, N.E. (2008). How to design and evaluate research in education. McGraw Hill Higher Education: USA. Hossler, D., Braxton, J., & Coopersmith, G. (1989). Understanding college choice. In C. Smart, Higher education: Handbook of theory and research (vol. V, 231-288). New York: Agathon Press. Hossler, Don, and K. S. Gallagher. 1987. "Studying Student College Choice: A Three-Phase Model and the Implications for Policymakers." College and University. 2:207-221. In Patricia M. McDonough (1997) Choosing Colleges: How Social Class and Schools Structure Opportunity. SUNNY Press; Google eBook. Martin, E. (2009). The right college: As comfortable as your favorite pair of jeans. Journal of College Admission, 7, 18-22, Retrieved from http://www.nacacnet.org. Mattern, K. & Wyatt, J. N. (2009). Student choice of college: How far do students go for an education? Journal of College Admission, 203, 18-29. Razumnikova, O.M. (2005). Russian education and society, 47(12), 21–33. (English translation © 2005 M.E. Sharpe, Inc., from the Russian text © 2004 Voprosy psikhologii. Vzaimodeistvie gendernykh stereotipov izhiznennykhtsennostei kak faktorov vybora professii, (4), 76–83. Rubin, B. M. (2008, April 18). From home school to top schools; Chelsea Link feared she might not get into any top schools. Chicago Tribune, p. 1. Shaw, E. J., Kobrin, J. L., Packman, S. F., & Schmidt, A. E. (2009). Describing students involved in the search phase of the college choice process: A cluster analysis study. Journal of Advanced Academics, 2, 662–700. St. John, E. (2000). Majors. Black Issues in Higher Education, 17 (4), 21-27. 995 Linda Green and Gul Celkan / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 116 ( 2014 ) 990 – 995 Teranishi, R. T., Ceja, M., Antonio, A. L., Allen, W. R., & McDonough, P. (2004). The college choice process for Asian Pacific Americans: ethnicity and socioeconomic class in context. Review of Higher Education, 27, 527-551. Tierney, M. L., R. Houang, and Henson, J. (1979). Alternative estimation procedures for studies of student college choice behavior: A cross- validation analysis. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Educational Research Association, San Francisco. Published in New York: Agathon Press. In Shinobu Anzai and Chie Matsuzawa Paik (2012). Japanese female students’ perceptions of 2- year colleges as a choice for postsecondary education. Community College Review, 40(4), 279–299. 
work_vwbmyruncvh6hm43rhar53rtca	----	AMS volume 18 issue 3 Cover and Back matter The complete works of America's greatest authors - novelists, poets, dramatists, philosophers, essayists, historians - are for the first time being collected in a uniform series of handsome hardcover volumes. Each volume comprises several works by a single writer, all in authoritative texts derived when possible from the definitive scholarly edition. Now available: MARK T W A I N Mississippi Writings (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Life on the Mississippi, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Puddnhead Wilson) £17.50 net HERMAN MELVILLE Redburn, White Jacket, Moby-Dick £17.50 net NATHANIEL H A W T H O R N E The Completed Novels (Fanshawe, The Scarlet Letter, The House of The Seven Gables. The Blithedale Romance, The Marble Faun) £17.50 net HENRY J A M E S Novels 1871-1880 (Watch and Ward, Roderick Hudson, The American, The Europeans, Confidence) £17.50 net WALT W H I T M A N Poetry and Prose (Leaves of Grass 1855, Leaves of Grass 1891-2, Complete Prose Works) £17.50 net JACK L O N D O N Novels and Stories (The Call of the Wild, White Fang, The Sea Wolf, Klondike and Other Stories) £17.50 net RALPH W A L D O E M E R S O N Essays and Lectures (Nature: Addresses and Lectures, Essays: First Series and Second Series, Representative Man, English Traits, The Conduct of Life, Uncollected Prose, Dial Pieces 1840-44) £19.50 net W A S H I N G T O N IRVING History, Tales and Sketches (Letters of Jonathan Oldstyle, Gent, Salmagundi, A History of New York, The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent) £19.50 net EDGAR A L L A N POE Poetry and Tales £17.50 net EDGAR A L L A N POE Essays and Criticism (Theory of Poetry, Reviews, The Literary and Social Scene, Miscellanies and Marginalia) £17.50 net HERMAN MELVILLE Typee, Omoo, Mardi £17.50 net NATHANIEL H A W T H O R N E Tales and Sketches (Twice-Told Tales, Mosses from an Old Manse, The Snow Image and Other Twice-Told Tales, A Wonder Book for Girls and Boys, Tanglewood Tales) £17.50 net JACK L O N D O N Novels and Social Writings (The People of the Abyss, The Road, The Iron Heel, Martin Eden, John Barleycorn, Essays) £17.50 net STEPHEN C R A N E Prose and Poetry (Maggie: A Girl of the Streets, The Red Badge of Courage, George's Mother, The Third Violet, Journalism including News from Asbury Park' and Western Sketches', Tales including Sullivan County Sketches' and New York City Sketches', Poetry) £17.50 net HARRIET BEECHER S T O W E Three Novels (Uncle Tom's Cabin, The Ministers Wooing, Oldtown Folks) £17.50 net THOMAS J E F F E R S O N Collected Works (A Summary View of the Rights of British America, Notes on the State of Virginia, Public Papers and Addresses, Autobiography, Letters and Miscellaneous Writings) £19.50 net C A M B R I D G E U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S Jnl. of American Studies, 18, 3 (i) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core Songsters and Saints Vocal Traditions on Race Records PAUL OLIVER An innovatory book in which this celebrated writer on the blues rediscovers the wealth of neglected traditions to be found on Race records issued specifically for black purchasers in the 1920s. From songs of Southern rural dances to the even more neglected song-sermons of the Baptist and Sanctified preachers and the gospel songs of the church congregations, this is the first book to examine the presence of these traditions on commercial records. Hard covers £15.00 net Paperback £5.95 net A Critical Introduction to Twentieth-Century American Drama Volume 2: Tennessee Williams, Arthur Miller, Edward Albee C. W. E. 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MARMOR This volume considers how the general findings of political science shed light on the disputes over medical care; it looks at particular instances of political conflict in American medicine; and it relates different sorts of political analyses to the appraisal of such issues as national health insurance in the contentious 1970s and the procompetitive reform in the early 1980s. £25.00 net CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS (iii) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR AMERICAN STUDIES PAMPHLETS IN AMERICAN STUDIES 1. Peter J. Parish Slavery 2. J . A. Thompson Progrossivism 3. John D. Lees The President and the Supreme Court: New Deal to Watergate 4. 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The Historical Association operates a cash with order system for all orders of £20 or under. Payment must accompany all these orders by cash, cheque or postal order. Overseas Orders. The Historical Association is willing to sell to overseas customers subject to an additional charge of 20%. All such orders must be accompanied by an international money order or draft on a British bank in sterling or by a sterling Eurocheque. Payment is acceptable from the United States in U.S. dollars. Rate of exchange for U.S. $: £1 = $2.20. (iv) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core Presidential Campaigns Paul F. Boiler In this entertaining history of presidential elections in the United States a separate chapter is devoted to every campaign from 1789 to 1980 - from George Washington to Ronald Reagan - with Professor Boiler devoting attention to both the serious side of the campaigns and to the frenzy and frolic. 0 19 503420 1 £15 Revival and Reaction The Right in Contemporary America Gillian Peele This book is a critical analysis of the various strands making up the contemporary American right, and is the first to provide an overview of recent research on the subject as a whole. The author describes the growth of these movements and the links between them since the 1970s, placing her dis- cussion in the context of recent developments within American party politics. 0 19 8211309 £17.50 American Diplomacy in the Twentieth Century Robert D. Schulzinger This is a comprehensive survey of US diplomatic history in the twentieth century, and is distinguished from others on the subject in that it combines narrative and analysis, explains how and why policy is made, compares the conduct of American diplomacy to that of other powers, and intersperses historiographical interpretations with a chronological study of events. 0 19 503373 6 £11.50 The Twentieth-Century World An International History William R. Keylor 'It is the most up-to-date and one of the most lucid studies of twentieth- century foreign affairs . . . Clear descriptions of the origins of the present unrest in the Middle East, of American policies in Latin America, and of the east-west arms race, make this as much a book for today's politicians, editors and laymen as for history students.' The Economist 0 19 503369 8 £19.50, 0 19 503370 1 Paperback £8.50 A Christian America Protestant Hopes and Historical Realities Second Edition Robert T. Handy Robert Handy, one of the foremost historians of mainstream religion in America, has updated and revised this study of Protestantism in America and added a new chapter on the recent resurgence of militant Protestantism. 0 19 503386 8 £18.50 Oxford University Press (v) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Trouble with America MICHEL C R O Z I E R F o r e w o r d by David Reisman Michel Crozier has seen America at its besl and at its worst. The distinguished French sociologist made extended visits there during the peak of American prestige and power in the 1950s and twice during the long trauma that, as he sees it, began with the assassination of John F. Kenned}' and perhaps ended with the Iranian hostage crisis. Crozier asks the question: How can it be that the system that once seemed to work so well now seems to work so poorly? His answer goes to the core elements of the American system: the due-process legal system, the mass production/ mass consumption market, the management model of rationality and the egalitarian welfare state. His admiration for these is genuine, but he believes that, like earlier social innovations, they may now be hardening to a point where they block American creativity c£15.95 Hardback 200pp 0-520-04978-0 Worker Cooperatives in America Edited by ROBERT JACKALL & HENRY M. LEVIN This comprehensive study of worker cooperatives in America examines the history, dynamics, challenges and potential of this remarkable form of enterprise. Because worker cooperatives are both owned and managed democratically by their workers, they represent a vital form of workplace democracy in a society where employees rarely participate in the ownership or control of organisations that shape their working life. The editors have brought together in this book a very useful collection of essays which thoroughly illuminates virtually every aspect of the cooperative phenomenon. C.A19-95 Hardback 300pp 0-520-05117-3 The Marcus Garvey and Universal Negro Improvement Association Papers V o l u m e III S e p t e m b e r 1920-August 1921 Edited by ROBERT A. HILL The Marcus Garvey and Universal Negro Improvement Association Papers will take its place among the most important records of the Afro-American experience.' New York Times This is the third volume of Robert A. Hill's monumental ten volume survey of Marcus Garvey and the extraordinary1 mass movement of black social protest he inspired. The Garvey movement from 1920 to 1921 was an unfolding drama which saw American and European, political, diplomatic, and economic interests pitted against the first modern black struggle for freedom. Through his careful documentation of the complexities and turmoil of the Garvey movement, Robert Hill establishes himself as the pre eminent scholar of Garveyism and its relationship to the international development of black nationalism. c..t26.00 Hardback ""SOpp 0-520-0525 -̂9 Volumes I and II still available UNIVERSITY OF California PRESS I 126 Buckingham Palace Road London SW1W9SD (vi) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core America's Working Man Work, Home, and Politics among Blue-Collar Property Owners DAVID HALLE 'Am I a working man? You bet! I'm standing here freezing and breathing in all these fumes . - . You're not a working man if you work in an office.' Over a period of six years, at factory and warehouse, in their homes and pubs, at union meetings and social outings, David Halle talked and listened to workers of an automated chemical plant in New Jersey's industrial heartland. He has emerged with an unusually comprehensive picture of blue collar life in America. Halle tackles two of the classic questions of sociology: How far do the lives and beliefs of blue-collar workers overlap with those of the 'middle-class'? How much are these workers integrated into or alienated from, the class structure? Throughout the book, Halle illustrates his analysis with excerpts of the workers' views on everything from strikes, class consciousness, politics, job security, and toxic chemicals to marriage, betting on the horses, God, home ownership, drinking, adultery, the Super Bowl, and life after death. c.£21.2O Hardback 288pp 0-226-31565-4 Steppin' Out New York Nightlife and the Transformation of American Culture, 1890-1930 LEWIS A. ERENBERG The evolution of New York nightlife from the Gay Nineties through the Jazz age was, as Lewis A. Erenberg shows, both symbol and catalyst of America's transition out of the Victorian period. Cabaret culture led the way to new styles of behaviour and consumption, dissolving conventional barriers between classes, race, the sexes — even between life and art. A fabulous era of chorus girls, hip flasks and lobster palaces one-steps through the pages of this ground-breaking and very entertaining cultural history. c.£8.45 Paperback 292pp 0-226-21515-6 Public Values and Private Power in American Politics Edited b y j . DAVID GREENSTONE These eight essays focus on an issue central to the work of the renowned political scientist Grant McConnell — the conflict between private and public values in a polity dominated by self-interest. The contributors, distinguished political scientists in their own right, emphasise the ways in which the often group-dominated processes of American democracy undermine rather than protect minority rights and subvert rather than contribute to the interests of the general public. c.£8.50 Paperback 286pp 0-226-30717-4 Also available in hardback £17.00 0-226-30716-6 CHICAGO The University of Chicago Press 126 Buckingham Palace Road London SW1W9SD (vii) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core One and Inseparable Daniel Webster and t h e Union MAURICE G. BAXTER From the ratification of the Constitution to the outbreak of the Civil War, few persons played a greater role in American history than Daniel Webster. He was a spokesman of New England commercial interests in the war of 1812, later an apostle of the industrial system and advocate of protective tariffs; a brilliant expositor of the Constitution as an instrument for national economic growth and strong central government; the architect of a foreign policy that brought permanent peace between the United States and England; and the Great Compromiser who tried to reconcile the clashing interests of North and South. Despite his importance, Webster has never been the subject of a full-scale, scholarly biography. Maurice G. Baxter's One and Inseparable traces the inter-related evolution of the public career and private life of this imposing and controversial Yankee of whom Ralph Waldo Emerson once said: 'Nature had not in our days, or not since Napoleon, cut out such a masterpiece.' The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press c.£20.00 Hardback 656pp with 7 halftones 0-674-63821-2 Province of Reason SAM BASS WARNER, Jr. This book is about some of the largest events of the twentieth century, about international war, economic collapse, new science and technologies and about the transformation of an old milltown region into a modern American metropolis. Warner's unique book sees those changes through the eyes of fourteen particular Bostonians whose lives span the years from 1850 to 1980 - a time when Boston, like all American cities, was being rebuilt according to the changing specifications of science, engineering, mass wealth and big corporations. From Bostonian Brahmins to self-made millionaires, Warner brings us a wide variety of characters: May Austin, mystic; Fred Allen, radio comedian; Charles A. Stone and Edwin S. Webster, electrical engineers; Elizabeth Richards, reformist clubwoman; Emily Green Balch, economist and winner of the Nobel Peace Prize; Willam Madison Wood, textile magnate; Fred Erwin Beal, socialist labour organiser; Louise Andrews Kent, surburban housewife and writer; Vannevar Bush, science administrator; Laurence K. Marshall, electronics entrepreneur; James Bryant Conant, university president and educational reformer; and Rachel Carson, renowned science writer. Their individual experiences offer a unique perspective on this period of history. The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press c.£16.00 Hardback 320pp 0-674-71956-5 HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESS 126 Buckingham Palace Road London SW1W 9SD (viii) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core Churchill & Roosevelt, The Complete Correspondence THREE VOLUMES Edited by Warren F. Kimball "I recommend this work unreservedly." Forrest C. Pogue, Biographer of George C. Marshall $162.50 prepublication price before December 31, 1984. $195.00 (U.S.) thereafter. Princeton University Press ISA Epsom Road, Guildford, Surrey, GUI 3 JT (ix) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core JOURNAL OF AMERICAN STUDIES PUBLISHED FOR THE BRITISH ASSOCIATION FOR AMERICAN STUDIES VOLUME 18 1984 Editor: HOWARD TEMPERLEY Associate Editor: STEPHEN FENDER N u m b e r 1 p a g e s 1—160 N u m b e r 2 161—338 N u m b e r 3 339—497 The right of the University of Cambridge to print and sell all manner uf books was granted by Henry VIII in 1534. The University has printed and published continuously since 15&4. CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS CAMBRIDGE LONDON NEW YORK NEW ROCHELLE MELBOURNE SYDNEY terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core Published by the Press Syndicate of the University of Cambridge The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, CB2 iRP 32 East 57th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022, U.S.A. 10 Stamford Road, Oakleigh, Melbourne 3166, Australia © Cambridge University Press 1984 Printed in Great Britain at the University Press, Cambridge terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core Essays B A K E R , T O N Y : The Comedian as the Letter " N": Sight and Sound in the Poetry of William Carlos Williams 89 C O H E N , S H E L D O N S.: The Odyssey of Ebene^er Smith Platt 255 D E L B A N C O , A N D R E W : The Puritan Errand Re-Viewed 343 G O L D M A N , A R N O L D : The Plot of Hawthorne's T h e Marble Faun 383 G R O S S , R O B E R T A . : Transcendentalism and Urbanism: Concord, Boston, and the Wider World 361 H A R V E Y , J O H N : Out of the Eight: sin Analysis of Narrative in O u t of the Past 73 L I V E L Y , A D A M : Continuity and Radicalism in American Black Nationalist Thought, 1914—1929 207 M A L T B Y , R I C H A R D : Film N o i r : The Politics of the Maladjusted Text 49 M O R G A N , D A V I D : The Air Traffic Controllers' Strike of 198r 165 P E E L E R , D A V I D P . : Unlonesome Highways: The Quest for Fact and Fellowship in Depression America 18 5 S P A R K , A L A S D A I R : The Soldier at the Heart of the War: the Myth of the Green Beret in the Popular Culture of the Vietnam Era 29 S W A N N , C H A R L E S : T h e B l i t h e d a l e R o m a n c e — Translation and Transformation: Mime and Mimesis 237 V A N D E W E T E R I N G , M A X I N E : The Popular Concept of'" Home" in Nineteenth-Century America 5 Review Essays A S H W O R T H , J O H N : The Jeffersonians: Classical Republicans or Eiberal Capitalists ? 425 B A D G E R , T O N Y : Segregation and the Southern Business Elite 105 C L A R I D G E , H E N R Y : Cultural Polemics 443 C O L L I N S , B R U C E : The Making of Jefferson Davis 437 E D W A R D S , O W E N D U D L E Y : Remembering the Kennedys 405 Notes and Comment K A R L I N , D A N I E L : Masterpieces of American Painting 448 W E L L A N D , D E N N I S : Idiom in Hemingway: A Footnote 449 Theses American Studies in Britain: Doctoral Theses on American Topics in Progress and Completed 323 (iii) terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S F O R C O N T R I B U T O R S 1 A l l c o n t r i b u t i o n s a n d e d i t o r i a l c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s h o u l d b e s e n t t o : T h e E d i t o r , Journal of American Studies, S c h o o l o f E n g l i s h a n d A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s , U n i v e r s i t y o f E a s t A n g l i a , N o r w i c h N R 4 7 T J , E n g l a n d . 2 A r t i c l e s s h o u l d g e n e r a l l y c o n t a i n a b o u t 5,000 w o r d s . L o n g e r o r s h o r t e r articles, o r a r t i c l e s i n t w o o r m o r e p a r t s , m a y b e a c c e p t e d b y a r r a n g e m e n t w i t h the E d i t o r s . 3 S u b m i s s i o n o f a n a r t i c l e is t a k e n t o i m p l y t h a t it h a s n o t p r e v i o u s l y b e e n p u b l i s h e d , a n d is n o t b e i n g c o n s i d e r e d f o r p u b l i c a t i o n e l s e w h e r e . 4 C o n t r i b u t i o n s s h o u l d b e c l e a r l y t y p e d i n d o u b l e s p a c i n g ( i n c l u d i n g f o o t n o t e s ) , p r e f e r a b l y o n A 4 p a p e r , w i t h a w i d e l e f t - h a n d m a r g i n . D i a g r a m s , m a p s a n d i l l u s t r a t i o n s m a y b e i n c l u d e d . 5 S p e l l i n g m a y c o n f o r m e i t h e r t o B r i t i s h o r A m e r i c a n u s a g e , p r o v i d i n g it is c o n s i s t e n t t h r o u g h o u t . 6 F o o t n o t e s s h o u l d b e u s e d s p a r i n g l y : in g e n e r a l , t o g i v e s o u r c e s o f d i r e c t q u o t a t i o n s , r e f e r e n c e s t o m a i n a u t h o r i t i e s o n d i s p u t a b l e q u e s t i o n s , a n d e v i d e n c e r e l i e d o n f o r a n e w o r u n u s u a l c o n c l u s i o n . T h e y s h o u l d b e n u m b e r e d c o n s e c u t i v e l y , a n d m a y m o s t c o n v e n i e n t l y b e p l a c e d , i n d o u b l e s p a c i n g , at t h e e n d o f t h e a r t i c l e . 7 F o r g u i d a n c e o n m a t t e r s o f s t y l e , c o n t r i b u t o r s s h o u l d r e f e r e i t h e r t o the ML. A. Handbook ( 1 9 7 7 ) , o r t o t h e Journal of American Studies Style Notes, c o p i e s o f w h i c h m a y b e o b t a i n e d f r o m t h e E d i t o r s . 8 C o n t r i b u t o r s s h o u l d k e e p o n e c o p y o f t h e t y p e s c r i p t f o r c o r r e c t i n g p r o o f s . 9 N o t e s i n t e n d e d f o r t h e E d i t o r s o r P r i n t e r s h o u l d b e o n a s e p a r a t e s h e e t . 10 F i r s t p r o o f s m a y b e r e a d a n d c o r r e c t e d b y c o n t r i b u t o r s p r o v i d e d t h a t they c a n g i v e the E d i t o r a n a d d r e s s t h r o u g h w h i c h t h e y c a n b e r e a c h e d w i t h o u t d e l a y a n d c a n g u a r a n t e e t o r e t u r n t h e c o r r e c t e d p r o o f s t o t h e E d i t o r , b y a i r m a i l w h e r e n e c e s s a r y , w i t h i n t h r e e d a y s o f r e c e i v i n g t h e m . 1 1 C o r r e c t i o n s s h o u l d b e k e p t t o a n a b s o l u t e m i n i m u m . T h e y s h o u l d b e c o n f i n e d t o e r r o r s o f t h e t y p i s t o r p r i n t e r u n l e s s t h e E d i t o r a u t h o r i z e s o t h e r w i s e . 1 2 C o n t r i b u t o r s o f a r t i c l e s a n d r e v i e w e s s a y s r e c e i v e 25 free offprints. E x t r a c o p i e s m a y b e o r d e r e d a c c o r d i n g t o a s c a l e o f c h a r g e s . 13 C o n t r i b u t o r s n e e d n o t b e m e m b e r s o f t h e B r i t i s h A s s o c i a t i o n f o r A m e r i c a n S t u d i e s . U n s o l i c i t e d t y p e s c r i p t s c a n o n l y b e r e t u r n e d t o o v e r s e a s c o n t r i b u t o r s w h o s e n d I n t e r n a t i o n a l R e p l y C o u p o n s ( n o t p o s t a g e s t a m p s ) . 14 C o n t r i b u t o r s o f a c c e p t e d a r t i c l e s w i l l b e a s k e d t o a s s i g n t h e i r c o p y ­ right, o n c e r t a i n c o n d i t i o n s , t o C a m b r i d g e U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , t o h e l p p r o t e c t t h e i r m a t e r i a l , p a r t i c u l a r l y i n t h e U S A . terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:20, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 https://www.cambridge.org/core V o l u m e 18 N u m b e r 3 D e c e m b e r 1984 Journal of American Studies T h e P u r i t a n E r r a n d R e - V i e w e d 343 A N D R E W D i i L B A N C O T r a n s c e n d e n t a l i s m a n d U r b a n i s m : C o n c o r d , B o s t o n a n d t h e W i d e r W o r l d 361 R O B E R T A . G R O S S T h e Plot o f H a w t h o r n e ' s The Marble Faun 383 A R N O L D G O L D M A N Review Essays R e m e m b e r i n g t h e K e n n e d y s 405 O W E N D U D L E Y E D W A R D S T h e Jeffersonians: C l a s s i c a l R e p u b l i c a n s o r L i b e r a l Capitalists ? 42 5 T h e M a k i n g o f Jefferson D a v i s 4 3 7 B R U C E C O L L I N S C u l t u r a l P o l e m i c s 443 H E N R Y C L A R I D G E Notes and Comment 4 4 7 Reviews 45 3 O C a m b r i d g e U n i v e r s i t y Press 1984 Cambridge University Press T h e Pitt B u i l d i n g , T r u m p i n g t o n S t r e e t , C a m b r i d g e C B 2 i R P 32 E a s t 5 7 t h S t r e e t , N e w Y o r k , N Y 10022, U S A 10 S t a m f o r d R o a d , O a k l e i g h , M e l b o u r n e 3 1 6 6 , A u s t r a l i a Printed in Great Britain at the University Press, Cambridge terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0021875800016820 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 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work_w2afzhu57be63otdkfqlkkyz4e	----	Correspondence P, Fry SA. Brain cancer and non-occupa- tional risk factors: case-control study among workers at nuclear facilities. Am J Public Health 1987;9:1180-2. 5 Inskip PD, Linet MS. Heineman EF. Etiology of brain tumours in adults. Epidemiol Rev 1995;17:382-414. 6 Julian J, Muir DCF. A Study of cancer incidence in Ontario nickel workers. Toronto: Occupational Disease Panel, 1996. 7 Ashmore JP, Grogan D. The national dose reg- istry for radiation workers in Canada. Radiation Protection Dosimetry 1985;11: 95-100. 8 Darby SC, Whitely E, Howe GR, Hutchings SJ, Kusiak RA, Lubin JH, et al. Radon and cancers other than lung cancer in under- ground miners: a collaborative analysis of 11 studies. J Nad Cancer Inst 1995;87:378-84. 9 National Research Council. Health effects of exposure to low levels of ionizing radiation, BEIR V. Washington DC: National Academy Press, 1990. 10 Savitz DA, Loomis DP. Magnetic field expo- sure in relation to leukemia and brain cancer mortality among electric utility workers. Am J Epidemiol 1995;141:123-34. 11 Theriault G. Goldberg M, Miller AB, Armstrong B, Guenel P. Deadman J, et al. Cancer risks associated with occupational exposure to magnetic fields among electric utility workers in Ontario and Quebec, Canada and France: 1970-89. Am J Epidemiol 1994;139:550-72. Lung cancer in asbestos cement workers in Denmark Editor-This paper' is a tribute to Edith Raffn and Elsebeth Lynge who have been involved in all three analyses of mortality and cancer morbidity in this Danish asbestos cement worker population, and to Johannes Clemmesen, father of their Cancer Register. The history of studies of asbestos workers tends to follow a pattern. When the health of the population studied is found to be plu- perfect or its excess mortality not significant, there has been a tendency to leave well alone. (The astute epidemiologist, after con- ducting a preliminary analysis that seems to show that asbestos exposure was good for you, would decline to proceed further until he had verified the integrity of the popula- tion. But that is another story). The attraction of studying asbestos cement workers (and for that matter asbestos textile workers) was the possibility of being able to evaluate the toxicity of chrysotile. In the event, when excess cancer mortality was found, it would be recalled that for a period there may have been expo- sure to amphibole. This population of Danish asbestos cement workers overall, had the potential for mixed chrysotile and amphibole exposure, but it does include a subset of workers employed exclusively before the introduc- tion of amphibole. Could the authors inform us whether analysis of this valuable group casts any light on the hazards of exposure purely to chrysotile asbestos? MORRIS GREENBERG 74 North End Road London NWJ1 7SY 1 Raffin E, Villadsen E, Engholm G., Lynge E. Lung cancer in asbestos cement workers in Denmark. Occup Environ Med 1996;53: 399-402. Authors' reply-The cohort of asbestos cement workers from Denmark includes 7887 men and 576 women employed between 1928 and 1984.' During the years 1928-40 chrysotile only was used in asbestos cement production. No asbestos was used during the war years Incidence oflung cancer in Danish asbestos cement workers employed during periods where chrysotile only was used Number of cases of lung cancer Group Obs Exp SIR (95% CI) Employed 1929-44: Men 12 6-48 1.9 (0 96-3 2) Workers: Asbestos cement 8 4 04 2-0 (0 9-3 9) Cement only 2 1-55 1-3 (0-1-4-7) Maintenance 2 0-66 3 0 (0-3-10-9) Salaried employees 0 0-23 -(-) Women 0 0-18 Employed 1980-4: Men 0 0-24 (-) Women 0 0 05 -(-) 1941-4. During the years 1945-79 chryso- ment period. tile primary (= 88% of all asbestos used); There were a total of 12 lung cancer but for all years also a small amount of cases; all among men employed 1928-44. amosite (= 11%), and for 1950 to 1969 This gave an increased SIR of borderline some crocidolite (= 1%) were used. During significance (SIR 1 9; 95% CI 0 96-3 2). the years 1980-4 again chrysotile only was The excess number of cases came from used. workers employed in the asbestos cement As reported,' from 1943 to 1990 a total of production and in the maintenance. 223 lung cancer cases were diagnosed The numbers are thus small, but the data among the male cohort members (standard- clearly indicate that the excess lung cancer ised incidence ration (SIR) 1-7; 95% confi- risk found for the total cohort was found dence interval (95% CI) 1-5-2-0). also for the subgroup exposed exclusively to We have now also tabulated the lung can- chrysotile. cer incidence for people employed only dur- ELSEBETH LYNGE ing the years where chrysotile only was used EDITH RAFEN at the factory. This involves 163 people who GERDA ENGHOLM started employment between 1928 and 1940 Danish Cancer Society, Strandboulevarden 49, and ended employment before 1945; and DK-2100 Kobenhaun 0, Denmark 262 people who started employment between 1980 and 1984. We have taken 1 Raffn E, Villadsen E, Engholm G, Lynge E.between 1980and1984. We have taken Lung cancer in asbestos cement workers in advantage also of the fact that specific job Denmark. Occup Environ Med 1996;53: titles were recorded for the early employ- 399-402. BOOK REVIEWS Book review editor: R L Maynard If you wish to order, or require further information regarding the titles reviewed here, please write or telephone the BMJ Bookshop, PO Box 295, London WX1H 9TE. Tel: 0171 383 6244. Fax: 0171 383 6662. Books are supplied post free in the UK and for British Forces Posted Overseas addresses. Overseas customers should add 15% for postage and packing. Payment can be made by cheque in sterling drawn on a UK bank, or by credit card (MasterCard, VISA, or American Express) stating card number, expiry date, and your full name. (The price and availability are occasionally subject to revision by the Publishers.) Smog Alert: Managing Urban Air Quality. By DEREK ELSOM. (Pp 226; L13-95.) 1996. 120 Pentonville Road, London Ni 9BR: Earthscan. ISBN 185383-1921. Smog Alert: Managing Urban Air Quality is a useful introductory book on urban air pollu- tion. The style is apocalyptic and the author delights in providing, especially in the early chapters, details of appalling population growth and worsening air quality in the rapidly expanding cities of the countries in transition from an agricultural to an indus- trial economy. The author has provided extensive footnote references, which I like, to the "grey literature" but almost no refer- ences to the original scientific literature. This is by contrast with his book Atmospheric Pollution: A Global Problem which provides detailed referencing. The author has included a wide range of govem- ment reports in his footnotes: again, I like this, but use of the secondary literature alone makes it difficult to check statements made in the text. Does the book provide a balanced account? Looking closely at those areas with which I am familiar, I am afraid that it does not. For example, the section dealing with asthma and air pollution leaves the impres- sion that the worldwide, rising tide of asth- ma is caused by air pollution. A secondary source not quoted by the author is the Department of Health Report on Asthma and Outdoor Air Pollution. This report made clear, by a detailed examination of the pri- mary literature, that links between air pollu- tion and the prevalence of asthma were far from established. This point has also been made in a recent report of an International Programme of Chemical Safety Workshop on Environmental Chemicals and Respiratory Hypersensitisation. The prevalence of asthma is increasing in the United Kingdom and yet the trend in pollution levels in the United Kingdom urban areas has not been dramatically upward during the past 10 or so years. Other sections of the book also 143 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://o e m .b m j.co m / O ccu p E n viro n M e d : first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /o e m .5 4 .2 .1 4 3 -b o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 9 7 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://oem.bmj.com/ Book reviews seem to lean more on popularly accepted views than on hard proof Recent work has shown that air pollutants can increase the response of the airways to allergens; the key question is to what extent does this occur at ambient levels of pollution. This is harder to answer but if not mentioned the reader is left with the impression that the effect is of known importance. The chapters dealing with solutions are helpful. Much useful information has been collected and tabulated. This will be an important source for students, especially as the "grey literature" in this area can be diffi- cult to trace. Costs and benefits are considered but not in great depth. For comparatively wealthy countries, air pollution is a soluble problem, for poor countries this may not be the case for some years yet. Given that industrial countries are inevitably in competition with one another it is not easy to see that rich countries will wish to help the less fortunate to enjoy a clean industrial revolution. Sadly, the old administrative adage "costs lie where they fall" seems to apply on a global scale. In conclusion, this is a useful and inex- pensive book which deals with an important problem. The more advanced reader will wish to follow up some of the author's points in the original literature-if he does so then he will find the picture is less clear cut than presented in Smog Alert. R L MAYNARD Environmental Hazards and Human Health by RICHARD B PHILP. (Pp 306; price ,C55.) 1995. Boca Raton, FL: CRC Press. ISBN 1-56670-133-3. As the author of this title proclaims, it is increasingly necessary for students of environmental sciences to know something of toxicology, and for students of toxicology to know something of the environment; the intention of Environmental Hazards and Human Health is to bridge that gap. The chapter titles range from water pollution through radiation hazards to risk analysis and the Gaia concept. This book is both lively and readable. Its intended aims are ambitious and its content comprehensive, but it somehow falls short of fully meeting its objectives. This may be due to the rather idiosyncratic style and the patchyness of the text. Although it frequently makes interesting reading, the material presented is often sketchy and selective. It also lacks formal referencing. Thus the material sometimes has an anecdotal feel, although balancing this is the author's personal touch and the inclusion of some unusual and useful snippets of material. It seems to be a prerequisite nowadays to preface any text or chapter on toxicology or pharmacology with a quote from Paracelsus. This one is no exception, although the quote used is more accurate than usual. It seems ironic that Paracelsus is so often used in this context as the point he was making referred in fact to the homeopathic usage of known poisons. As a general comment, I was not sure that the introductory quotes in this book contributed significantly. Not surprisingly, perhaps, in a book of this kind covering a very broad range of top- ics, some sections are lengthy and detailed whereas others seem short and superficial. Moreover, the material sometimes seems rather too simplistic and does not always adequately support the review questions given at the end of each chapter. Indeed, I was not convinced about the appropriate- ness of these questions or of the case studies provided. Also, it has to be said that the illustrations are not of the highest quality; they are all in black and white and often rather crude in comparison with the superb graphics increasingly commonplace in books of this ilk. In terms of completeness and top- icality of its contents, I was surprised not to see PM,0 mentioned by name. Nor was there a reference as such to environmental oestro- gens and the increasing evidence regarding the endocrine disrupting properties of chem- icals, which is currently a very topical issue in terms of both scientific and public inter- est. My overriding impression of this book was of a brave, if not wholly successful, attempt to cover all the key issues in this vast subject area. Although perhaps trying to achieve too much, the author nevertheless has produced a reader friendly overview for students needing basic information on a wide range of topics in the environment and health field, and I am sure the book will receive a wide readership. At £55 this hard- back book is reasonable value for money. PAUL HARRISON Traumatic Stress in Critical Occupations, Recognition, Con- sequences, and Treatment. By DOUGLAS PATON, JOHN M VIOLANT. (Pp 245.) 1996. Springfield, Il: Charles C Thomas. ISBN 0- 398-065772. The poet Ralph Waldo Emerson described the simple reality of the experiences of human beings in traumatic situations when he mused "we boil at different degrees". This book attempts to explore not only each person's reaction to traumatic stressful situa- tions, but also the "complex interactions between the person, the traumatic event, and the social and organizational back- ground against which performance takes place". The emphasis here is on understand- ing the stress and trauma phenomena and developing an "effective trauma manage- ment system". This duality of objectives, highlighting the current theory in the field and the practical solutions is laudable. Also, by encompassing the phrase "critical occu- pations", the authors have widened the con- ventional view of traumatic stress being associated with the emergency services only, extending the construct to the "helping pro- fessionals" as well. The book is divided into eight chapters, the first two of which are concerned with a broad overview of the field and by research considerations on methodology and assess- ment strategies. The next four chapters explore specific critical occupations such as emergency medical service workers, the police, and disaster relief agencies. Most of these cover not only the research undertaken but also education, prevention, and support approaches. The last two chapters, from my point of view, are the most interesting, as they explore the training and support for emergency responders and future issues in the area of practice and research. The issues of training and preparation, support and demands related to the event, and recovery and the social and organizational influences are assessed in depth. The assessment of occupational trauma is examined in the final chapter, with an emphasis on the need to carry out research which is longitudinal in nature and to explore a range of preventive strategies rarely discussed-for example, screening. This volume really does make a contribu- tion, both in terms of future research and strategies that organisations might adopt in coping with traumatic stress at work. It is up to date and clarifies many of the method- ological and occupational issues currently confronting the field of traumatic stress in an organizational context. It is not a cure all or a simple "do it yourself' guide to corpo- rate post-traumatic stress disorder, but a step in the right direction of an increasing problem among critical occupational groups. What is important for the health of employ- ees in any work environment, as this book reinforces time and time again, is to provide a creative and supportive organizational cul- ture. This can be done if we follow the sim- ple dictat of Kornhauser, over 30 years ago, in his book The mental health of the industrial worker. "Mental health is not so much a freedom from specific frustrations as it is an overall balanced relationship to the world, which permits a person to maintain a realis- tic, positive belief in himself and his pur- poseful activities. Insofar as his entire job and life situation facilitate and support such feelings of adequacy, inner security, and meaningfulness of his existence, it can be presumed that his mental health will tend to be good. What is important in a negative way is not any single characteristic of his sit- uation but everything that deprives the per- son of purpose and zest, that leaves him with negative feelings about himself, with anxi- eties, tensions, a sense of lostness, empti- ness, and futility." CARY L COOPER 144 o n A p ril 5 , 2 0 2 1 b y g u e st. P ro te cte d b y co p yrig h t. h ttp ://o e m .b m j.co m / O ccu p E n viro n M e d : first p u b lish e d a s 1 0 .1 1 3 6 /o e m .5 4 .2 .1 4 3 -b o n 1 F e b ru a ry 1 9 9 7 . D o w n lo a d e d fro m http://oem.bmj.com/ 
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work_wck64nlwmnenxbflybhild4cj4	----	Gray Anatomy: The case of the missing “s” One can prescribe a daily dose of 2 gray, but that does not make it right. In the United States, one seldom hears of a dose of 2 grays. Apparently, the same is true on the Web. A recent query using Google.com found only 6 results for “a dose of 2 grays” (in quotes, emphasis added), whereas “a dose of 2 gray” yielded nearly 7,000 results (1, 2). Even an official from the International Commission on Radiation Units and Measurements (ICRU) responded to a recent request for clarification: “Gray is used when referring to one or more than one J/kg” (emphasis added) and cited ICRU Report 85 (3). Alas, Report 85—which defines the unit gray—does not address the question of plural forms (4). What, then, brought about this curious anomaly of grammar? When asked, many de-sensitized radiation oncologists and radiation physicists explain that the gray is like deer: you can have one deer or two deer, but not three deers. However, the existence of a few (relatively rare) irregular plurals in the whole of English hardly seems proof or explanation that another word should be treated as such. This is especially true in light of the long- held belief among etymologists that “unchanged plural nouns” in English arose as corruptions of words adopted from other languages (5), which is clearly not the case for the gray. Further, given that the gray is a standardized unit, carefully defined and officially incorporated into the International System of Units (SI), one might reasonably expect a more satisfactory justification of the alleged syntactical deviance. In fact, the story of the gray is one of standardization (6). The General Conference of Weights and Measures (CGPM) was established in 1875 and began formally promoting what would become the International System of Units (SI) by 1960, including familiar entities such as the meter and the kilogram. Units related to radiation lagged behind this movement, with persistence of the non-SI rem, rad, röntgen, and curie. By 1970 the British Committee on Radiation Units and Measurements (BCRU) and the ICRU were calling for adoption of standardized measurements. In 1973, joules per kilogram (J/kg) was proposed for the standard dose of absorbed energy by the BCRU and then by the ICRU. In 1975 CGPM gave its blessing to a special name for the unit J/kg when referring to ionizing radiation, calling it the gray, after Louis Harold Gray, who, among other things, had developed the concept of relative biological effectiveness (RBE) and defined a unit for radiation as absorbed energy (6, 7). Thus, Professor Gray joined the illustrious company of Joule, Kelvin, Ampere, Tesla, Watt, Ohm, and Pascal, all honored with an SI unit name. However, all of these other SI units follow typical pluralization in English: e.g., amperes, watts, and joules. The BIPM itself publishes an extensive brochure on SI units, which remains silent on pluralization of unit names but states, simply: “Unit names are … treated like ordinary nouns” (8). An SI style guide produced by the Society of Petroleum Engineers, on the other hand, explicitly states that SI units “form their plurals in the usual manner (9).” The National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST) “coordinates Federal Government policy on … the use of the SI by U.S. industry and the public [and also] provides official U.S. representation in the *CGPM+.” NIST publishes a definitive guide on SI usage, wherein it is © 2016. This manuscript version is made available under the Elsevier user license http://www.elsevier.com/open-access/userlicense/1.0/ stated under Section 9.2: “Plural unit names are used when they are required by the rules of English grammar. They are normally formed regularly, for example, “henries” is the plural of henry” (10) † . Despite the popular spoken use of gray as an irregular plural, several authoritative sources use grays when the word is written out. Alan Jennings, a member of the Radiology History and Heritage Charitable Trust in the U.K. wrote an article in 1984 detailing the history of radiation units and of efforts ongoing at that time to promote their widespread adoption internationally (6, 11). In his history, Jennings uses the plural form grays. Similarly, publications from the BIPM spanning at least 1986 to 2013 also use grays (12, 13). And in 2015, web pages sponsored by the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and the Department of Energy are also each found to use the plural grays (14, 15). At the bottom of the case of the missing “s”, it would appear we have a simple corruption adopted in casual speech. We argue that correct usage of this scientific term in plural is grays, consistent with the overwhelming majority of English nouns, as well as SI unit convention. We submit that prescriptions should therefore be made in grays for the sake of such consistency, while noting the words of Ralph Waldo Emerson: “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall” (16). It is for the reader to determine which consistency is the more foolish: formal SI style or the common parlance of our field. † The NIST guide further lists only three exceptions for unit names ending in an s sound: lux, hertz, and siemens, which are the same for singular and plural. References 1. Google. “a dose of 2 gray” - Google Search. 2. Google. “a dose of 2 grays” - Google Search. 3. International Commission on Radiation Units & Measurements (ICRU). A question on the unit Gy. Personal Communication. 2014. 4. The International Commission on Radiation Units and Measurements. Report 85. J. ICRU. 2011;11:NP– NP. 5. Palmer AS. Folk-etymology: A Dictionary of Verbal Corruptions Or Words Perverted in Form Or Meaning, by False Derivation Or Mistaken Analogy. George Bell and sons; 1882. 6. Jennings WA. When did you last see your rontgen?-the SI units and their use. Phys. Med. Biol. 1984;29:131. 7. Gupta SV. Units of Measurement: Past, Present and Future. International System of Units. Springer Science & Business Media; 2009. 8. Bureau International des Poids et Mesures (BIPM). SI Brochure: The International System of Units (SI) [8th edition, 2006; updated in 2014]. 2014. 9. Society of Petroleum Engineers. Style Guide. 2014. 10. Thompson A, Taylor. NIST: Special Publication 811 (Extended Contents). 2015. 11. Jennings, WA. A Brief History of the Evolution of Medical Physics in the United Kingdom in the Twentieth Century. Invis. Light J. Radiol. Hist. Herit. Charit. Trust. 2004;20. 12. Allisy, A. The BIPM Ionizing Radiation Section (1960-1985). Bur. Int. Poids Mes. 1986. 13. Kessler C, Burns DT, Delaunay F, et al. Key comparison BIPM.RI(I)-K4 of the absorbed dose to water standards of the LNE–LNHB, France and the BIPM in 60 Co gamma radiation. Metrologia. 2013;50:06019. 14. United States Nuclear Regulatory Commission. NRC: 10 CFR 20.1004 Units of radiation dose. 2015. 15. Oak Ridge Institute for Science and Education, established by the U.S. Department of Energy. Quick Reference Information - Radiation. 2015. 16. Emerson RW. Self-Reliance and Other Essays. Courier Corporation; 2012. Table: Additional style rules for SI units Rule Correct Not correct Unit names start with a lowercase letter. A length of 24 meters A dose of 30 grays A length of 24 Meters A dose of 30 Grays Eponymous unit symbols have a single capital letter. Non-eponymous unit symbols are lowercase.* 24 m 30 Gy 60 kg 24 M 30 gy 60 Kg ^ Unit symbols are mathematical entities and are not pluralized. 24 m 30 Gy 24 ms † 30 Gys Unit names are pluralized only if the numerical value is >1. A length of 0.25 meter A dose of 0.8 gray A length of 0.25 meters A dose of 0.8 grays Numbers and unit symbols are separated by a space. This holds even if used as a one-thought modifier before a noun. 24 m 30 Gy A 50 m race A 10 Gy boost 24m 30Gy A 50-m race A 10-Gy boost A hyphen may separate a number and unit name if used as a one-thought modifier before a noun. A 50-meter race A 10-gray boost A 50-m race A 10-Gy boost Adapted from Special Publication 811 (10) of the National Institute of Standards and Technology (NIST). * Except L is acceptable for liter to avoid confusion between the lowercase l and 1. ^ This indicates 60 kelvin-grams, not the intended 60 kilograms. † This indicates 24 milliseconds, not the intended 24 meters. 
work_weawjrkydfgwdlfnitlvrzomsi	----	【서평】 Jennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicago: U of Chicago, 2012. Yonghwa Lee (Incheon National University) It is a common place among scholars that ever since Walter Kaufmann’s seminal study of Friedrich Nietzsche with his authoritative and nuanced translation of the German philosopher’s works in 1950s, Nietzsche has established himself as one of the most popular and influential philosophers in America. With the growing dominance of antifoundationalism (the denials of universal truth) for the next few decades, Nietzsche has become perhaps the best-known and most often quoted thinker in American culture. Not surprisingly, a great number of American intellectuals have professed themselves to become practitioners of a branch of the Nietzschean philosophy by drawing on groundbreaking concepts and thought-provoking terminologies conceived by Nietzsche in their effort to define and revise various literary and philosophical theories such as postmodernism, deconstruction, and new historicism. Given the provocative and invigorating insights 130 Yonghwa Lee Nietzsche offers into every element of Western civilization and its fundamental premises--the genealogy of morals, re-evaluation of values, the death of God, the interpretive nature of all thoughts and belief--it seems only natural that American intellectual community never ceases to engage itself with the challenges put forward by Nietzsche’s thoughts. What goes often unnoticed in the critical assessment of Nietzsche’s reception in America is the fact that immediately his thoughts were introduced to this country in the 1890s, they provided insights and inspiration for a wide range of American audiences. In 1915, astonished by “the bewitching power” of Nietzsche’s relentless assault on the institutional Christianity, one prominent minister writing for Bibliotheca Sacra went so far as to make an earnest confession that “No one can think, and escape Nietzsche” (74). The implication is quite clear: the Nietzsche vogue in contemporary America is anything but new, and Nietzsche’s philosophy has continued to help Americans understand and (re)define the foundations of modern American life of the last two centuries. Ratner-Rosenhagen’s American Nietzsche is a book that traces the dynamic interaction between Nietzsche’s philosophy and modern American thought. In her discussion of Nietzsche’s “crucial role in the ever-dynamic remaking of modern American thought” (27), Ratner- Rosenhagen focuses on how “confrontations with Nietzsche laid bare a fundamental concern driving modern American thought: namely, the question of the grounds, or foundations, for modern American thought and culture itself” (23). In her attempt to demonstrate America’s ironic rediscovery of their homemade philosophy--one of her central JenniferJennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicagoo 131 claims being the presence of remarkable affinities between Emerson’s and Nietzsche’s thoughts--in Nietzsche, Ratner-Rosenhagen begins her exquisitely written book by describing the moment of Nietzsche’s exaltation when as a seventeen year old student he read Ralph Waldo Emerson. Recognizing great affinity between his thought and Emerson’s, Nietzsche never parted with Emerson throughout his life and confessed “I shouldn’t praise it, it is too close to me” (20). After this intriguing prologue, the first half of the book examines the way in which Americans responded to Nietzsche until 1930. This is followed by a chapter devoted to Kaufmann’s restoration of Nietzsche from his undeserved infamy (or obscurity) starting in the 1950s. The following chapter discusses three “anti-foundationalist” readings of Nietzsche: Harold Bloom’s, Richard Rorty’s, and Stanley Cavell’s. The book closes with an epilogue which discusses Allan Bloom’s critique of left-wing professors’ abuse of Nietzsche’s value relativism in his 1987 best-seller, The Closing of the American Mind. In the four chapters Ratner-Rosenhagen explores Americans’ reaction to Nietzsche until 1930. Drawing extensively on rather obscure sources, Ratner-Rosenhagen demonstrates that most early American readers of Nietzsche who read Nietzsche’s works in English translation participated in the “Nietzsche vogue” and took him as an antidote to “American commercialism, provincialism, and anti-intellectualism” (45). To these American cosmopolitans--radicals and conservatives alike-- Nietzsche’s philosophy represented all that was modern in thought or the Zeitgeist. Ratner-Rosenhagen then moves onto her investigation of another, but quite unlikely, group of people who exhibited great interest in Nietzsche’s thoughts: religious commentators. With Nietzsche’s 132 Yonghwa Lee influence in American life rapidly growing, religious leaders (both Protestant and Catholic), who felt the escalating tension between traditional religious faith and secular knowledge, were forced to grapple with what should be the reaction of Christianity to Nietzsche. Ratner-Rosenhagen insightfully argues that even as they attempted to reject the moral and religious implications of Nietzsche’s subversive claims--that “God is dead” and Christian cosmology itself was the product of human imagination for a utilitarian purpose rather than of divine origins--these serious-minded men of cloth had to accept Nietzsche’s assertion that the true test of religion was “the human beings it produces, as well as the social arrangements it informs” (89). Paradoxically, therefore, even when they wrestled with Nietzsche to make him “safe for Christianity,” they contributed to investing Nietzsche “with a spiritual authority that could rival Jesus” (101). According to Ratner-Rosenhagen, Nietzsche’s thoughts continued to find entry to American moral and aesthetic imagination in the years up to and during World War I primarily through the eclectic groups of aspiring young Americans who confessed their fatal encounter with Nietzsche. Isadora Duncan remarked that “Nietzsche’s philosophy ravished my being” (149). Adopting spiritual terms, Jack London and Eugene O’Neill referred to Nietzsche as “their ‘Christ’ and Thus Spoke Zarathustra as their ‘Bible’” (149). For playwrights, novelists, and poets like George Cram Cook, Upton Sinclair, and Kahlil Gibran, Nietzsche served as a teacher who could enlighten them about the role of a sovereign individual after the rejection of the traditional notion of God. Ratner-Rosenhagen then turns her attention to the rapid decline of JenniferJennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicagoo 133 Americans’ interest in “the Übermensh’s potential for advancing the progress of human race” (125) with the start of World War I. While the war itself was labeled as “Euro-Nietzschean War” (137) by the British press, the wartime observers like George Santayana pictured the Übermensh as the manifestation of a German idealistic egotism and attributed German militarism and imperialism to Nietzsche’s views expressed in such terms as blond beasts and master race. Despite the efforts of a few devoted adherents of Nietzsche to restore his proper place in modern American thought, the antagonistic sentiment of the Anglo-American readers toward his philosophy became prevalent. Nietzsche’s reputation seemed permanently damaged with the outbreak of World War II when Hitler and Mossolini joined to appropriate the highly charged language of Nietzsche’s philosophy-- beyond good and evil, and master morality vs. slave morality, for instance--to justify the causes of the war as a sort of their manifest destiny to reassert their legitimate power as a master race. In her chapter on Kaufmann’s role in redeeming Nietzsche’s reputation in America, Ratner-Rosenhagen investigates Kaufmann’s admirable project of persuading the postwar American reading public to re-evaluate Nietzsche in Nietzsche: Philosopher, Psychologist, Antichrist. One of Kaufmann’s major contributions is to salvage Nietzsche from the dominant view of Nietzsche as the mastermind of the Nazis by demonstrating Nietzsche’s concept of “will to power” is not so much a political agenda as an expression of a desire for individual perfection. Kaufmann’s another contribution, according to Ratner-Rosenhagen, is to present Nietzsche not as a “system-thinker” interested in “logic games or his desire for a metaphysical map of the universe” but as a 134 Yonghwa Lee “problem-thinker” who deemed worthy of consideration “[o]nly those problems which grow out of real experience” (236). That is to say, whereas a “system-thinker” is invested mainly in metaphysics and idealism, a “problem-thinker” grapples with moral and psychological implications of human existence. This distinction between a system- thinker and a problem-thinker is at the heart of Kaufmann’s attempt to re-evaluate Nietzsche as a philosopher capable of addressing both Anglo-American (analytic) and Continental (existential) thoughts in midcentury America. On the one hand, Nietzsche evinces affinity to analytic philosophers such as James and Dewey in rejecting metaphysics and embracing empiricism particularly through his attention to the uses of language. On the other hand, Nietzsche exhibits kinship to existential philosophers by blending philosophy and psychology in his examination of the implications of the death of God for modern society. Ratner-Rosenhagen concludes with a discussion of three American Nietzsches constructed by Harold Bloom, Richard Rorty, and Stanley Cavell. While Rorty draws on Nietzsche to examine full implications of pragmatist antifoundationalism without connecting him to Emerson, Bloom and Cavell unravel the similarities between Nietzsche and Emerson who, they thought, is not a facile optimist but a philosopher that looks forward to postmodern Continental thought. Whether they attempt to bring back Emerson to the discussion of Nietzsche or not, these antifoundationalists who deny the ground for the universal truth on American native grounds “used Nietzsche to come to terms with American thinking in relation to European thought” (304). Specifically, for these antifoundationalists, Nietzsche is an effective figure for JenniferJennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicagoo 135 considering both the possibilities and problems of American thinking that seeks to construct meaning without recourse to the first cause, necessity, or foundation. Nietzsche offered sweeping assault on the belief in metaphysical and moral foundationalism, but like Emerson, Nietzsche believed that despite the fictive nature of our views of truth, language, and the self, they are still useful in exploring “new avenues of discovery, new sources of wonder” (304). This books complements Nietzsche in American Literature and Thought (edited by Mansfred Pütz) which features a collection of interdisciplinary essays on the philosophical influences of Nietzsche’s thoughts on American literary men and thinkers. Although Ratner- Rosenhagen’s approach does not offer an in-depth analysis of how such critical issues as perspectivism, the problem of language, and religious imagination, her book can direct interested readers to relevant articles and other literature cited in it for more detailed information about these issues. Based on her extensive research of all sorts of sources available--books, magazines, diaries, journals, correspondents from 1880s to the late-twentieth century--Ratner-Rosenhagen’s book exhibits remarkable vigor and eloquence in tracing the dynamic history of Americans’ engagement with Nietzsche’s thought. Her analysis of Nietzsches thus constructed by different generations of Americans is further enhanced by her equally impressive and thoroughgoing reading of Nietzsche’s own works. Ratner-Rosenhagen’s examination of antifoundationalists’ use of Nietzsche is particularly illuminating in critiquing recent reception of Nietzsche’s thought by his postmodern disciples in American academia. Such prominent postmodern thinkers as Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, Judith 136 Yonghwa Lee Butler, and Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick have correctly understood the deconstructive elements of Nietzsche’s philosophy, but they fail to see its redemptive or reconstructive power in a world without the foundations. The book thus offers a comprehensive and perceptive view of the ongoing interaction between Americans and Nietzsche about metaphysical and moral foundations of human existence, but it stops short of providing an in-depth discussion of Nietzsche generated by a single critic or each generation. For one, Ratner-Rosenhagen’s largely informative chapters merely record the excitement of American writers like Jack London or Eugene O’Neill upon their discovery of Nietzsche without making any specific argument about the German philosopher’s influences on their literary works. To do justice to the book, however, one needs to consider its scope and methods as intellectual history. As such, the book paves a way for students of various disciplines including philosophy, literature, history, and cultural studies. American Nietzsche is an admirable achievement not only in Nietzsche studies but also in American intellectual history. ■ 논문 투고일자: 2014. 06.07 ■ 심사(수정)일자: 2014. 06.14 ■ 게재 확정일자: 2014. 06.23 JenniferJennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicagoo 137 Abstract Jennifer Ratner-Rosenhagen, AMERICAN NIETZSCHE A History of an Icon and His Ideas Chicago: U of Chicago, 2012. Yo nghwa L e e (Incheon National University) This review introduces Ratner-Rosenhagen’s American Nietzsche, a book which traces the dynamic interaction between Nietzsche’s philosophy and modern American thought. Ratner-Rosenhagen begins her book by pointing out remarkable affinities between Emerson’s and Nietzsche’s thoughts in her prologue. After the prologue about the presence of Emerson’s thought in Nietzsche’s philosophy, the first half of the book examines the way in which Americans responded to Nietzsche until 1930. This is followed by a chapter devoted to Kaufmann’s restoration of Nietzsche from his underserved infamy (or obscurity) starting in the 1950s. The following chapter discusses three “anti-foundationalist” readings of Nietzsche: Harold Bloom’s, Richard Rorty’s, and Stanley Cavell’s. The book closes with an epilogue which discusses Allan Bloom’s critique of left-wing professors’ abuse of Nietzsche’s value relativism in his 1987 best-seller, The Closing of the American Mind. This books complements Nietzsche in American Literature and Thought (edited by Mansfred Pütz) which features a collection of interdisciplinary essays on the philosophical influences of Nietzsche’s thoughts on American literary men and thinkers. Although Ratner-Rosenhagen’s approach does not offer an in-depth analysis of how such critical issues as perspectivism, the problem of language, and religious imagination, the book paves a way for students of various disciplines including philosophy, literature, history, and cultural studies. American Nietzsche is an admirable achievement not only in Nietzsche studies but also 138 Yonghwa Lee in American intellectual history. Key Words Nietzsche, America, Emerson, antifoundationalism 
work_weq7urq3xvggzo2ivnoj3clva4	----	Emanuel Swedenborg Epilepsia, 37(2): 2 1 1-2 18, 1996 Lippmcott-Raven Publishers, Philadelphia 0 International League Against Epilepsy Historical Note Emanuel Swedenborg Elizabeth Foote-Smith and Timothy J. Smith Berkeley, California, U . S . A . Summary: How is it that the name of a brilliant 18th cen- tury scientist and philosopher, many of whose excep- tional achievements were often advanced for his time, is almost never mentioned in the annals of science? And how did it happen that a man very deeply dedicated to the advancement of science experienced a vision that corn- pletely altered the course of his life? We suggest, based on his extensive self-analytical writings, that the source of his spiritual experiences was temporal lobe epilepsy (TLE) and that he is among the group of creative religious thinkers also suspected or known to have had epilepsy, from St. Paul and Mohammed to Dostoevsky, who have changed Western civilization. Key Words: History of Medicine-Epilepsy-Temporal Lobe-Emmanuel Swe- denborg. Emanuel Swedenborg was born in 1688 in Stock- holm, Sweden, the third child of then Regimental Chaplain Jesper Swedberg (later to become Arch- bishop of Skara), and Sara Behm. Four years later, the boy’s father was promoted to the professorship of theology at Upsala University, so that Emanuel grew up in a highly scholastic and religious atmo- sphere. In a 1769 letter to a lifelong friend, he wrote: From my youth to my tenth year, my thoughts were constantly engrossed by reflecting upon God, on sal- vation and on the spiritual passions of man. . . . From my sixth to my twelfth year, it was my great- est delight to converse with the clergy concerning faith. . . . (1). Recognized as a talented student, Swedenborg re- ceived a classical education at Upsala University. Subsequently he became an ardent student of sci- ence and traveled throughout Europe, meeting most of the leading men of learning of that time. Ulti- mately he was to make original and advanced con- tributions in the fields of algebra, geology, philoso- phy, astronomy, cosmology, physiology, physics, anatomy, paleontology, crystallography, mineral- ogy, and theology. He became a member of the Royal Academy of Science. In 1719, the Swedberg Received March 2, 1995; revision accepted July 24, 1995. Address correspondence and reprint requests to E. Foote- Smith at 2635 Regent St., Berkeley, CA 94704, U.S.A. family was ennobled by the Queen, and their name was changed to Swedenborg (2). Later, Emanuel sat in the House of Nobles as Baron Swedenborg and played a constructive part in the political affairs of Sweden. During the 19th century, many distinguished per- sons including Blake, Emerson, Coleridge, Carlyle, Henry James S r . , Tennyson, the Brownings, Ruskin, Oliver Wendell Holmes, Thoreau, Goethe, Heine, and Balzac held Swedenborg and his ideas in high esteem (3). Ralph Waldo Emerson (4) de- scribed Swedenborg as: a colossal soul (who) lies vast abroad of his times uncomprehended by them, and requires a long focal distance to be seen. . . . One of the mastodons of literature, he is not to be measured by whole colleges of ordinary scholars. In The N e w Philosophy, Woofenden (5) asked: [Wlhy is a man of such obviously astonishing achievements . . . almost completely ignored in the annals of science? Why is he not ranked, as he ap- parently deserves to be, with such scientific explor- ers as Bacon, Galileo, Kepler, Newton, Darwin? . . . The answer probably lies in the fact that he wrote and published the Arcana Coelestia ( 6 ) , described by Swedenborg in its title: Arcana Coelestia, or the Heavenly Secrets which are in the Sacred Scripture or the Word of the Lord, disclosed here; here those which are in Genesis: to- gether with the wonderful things which have been 211 212 E . FOOTE-SMITH A N D T . J . SMITH seen in the World of Spirits and in the Heaven of Angels. This monumental work, published in Latin in eight quarto volumes between 1749 and 1756, marked Swedenborg’s transition from scientist to theolo- gian. Swedenborg’s spiritual eyes were opened in 1743. In an autobiographical letter (7), he stated it thus: I have been called to a holy office by the Lord him- self, who most mercifully manifested himself in per- son to me his servant in the year 1743, when he opened my sight t o the view of the spiritual world and granted me the privilege of conversing with spir- its and angels, which I enjoy t o this day . . . From that time I began to print and publish the various arcana that have been seen by me or revealed t o me, concerning heaven and hell, the state of man after death, the true worship of God, the spiritual sense of the Word. . . . More specifically, in The Word Explained, Swe- denborg wrote: The speech is exactly like the speech with one’s as- sociates on earth, but it comes from heaven . . . in- ternally and it is so plain that it is heard in the same way as speech of the lips but in such manner that none of the bystanders hears o r perceives anything at all . . . I can testify in sacred earnestness that I have been admitted into the spiritual world by the Messiah Himself, and this continually while I was writing these things which now come out in public. When St. Paul, also suspected of having epilepsy with ictal visual and auditory hallucinations, fell to the ground and saw Jesus (Acts 22:9) those who were with him “. . . heard not the voice of him that spoke to me.” Because of the impact of the Arcana Coelestia and his subsequent writings, Swedenborg was ridiculed by Emanuel Kant (8) who called him “the arch-fanatic of all fanatics,” and dubbed his Arcana “eight quarto volumes full of nonsense.” He was also accused of insanity by Lutheran cler- gymen. Of this charge, Coleridge (9) wrote: “ 0 thrice happy should we be, if the learned teachers of the present day were gifted with a similar mad- ness. . . .” A few years before Swedenborg died, some of his books were seized and their importation was prohib- ited, and he was charged with heresy. Very dis- tressed, he wrote a letter of protest to the King (10) and although a trial had begun, ultimately nothing came of it. Fortunately, Swedenborg kept a record of his dreams (which was not intended for publication) during the critical years from 1743 to 1744, and for 20 years he kept his Spiritual Diary, consisting of five volumes. Therefore, we have two valuable pri- mary sources of information. TEMPORAL LOBE EPILEPSY (TLE): IDIOPATHIC OR CRYPTOGENIC Hauser et al. (1 1) showed that patients with epi- lepsy with “repeated occurrence of seizures in the absence of an acute precipitating history of prior neurologic insult” are usually categorized as “idio- pathic” or “cryptogenic.” This is the case with Swedenborg. Based on his own testimony, Sweden- borg had multiple symptoms of TLE, including a characteristic aura, falling, loss of consciousness, convulsions , visual and auditory hallucinations , and trance states. Postictal and interictal symptoms in- cluded double thoughts, mental confusion, memory loss, and behavioral changes. These symptoms are described chronologically herein. The ecstatic aura The ecstatic aura, a classic epileptic warning symptom with a history that dates at least back to Galen (12) occurs minutes or seconds before a sei- zure. EEG correlates were demonstrated by Cirig- natta et al. (13) in 1980. The aura consists of “20-30 s of intense elation and ineffable all-pervading bliss, a feeling that the secrets of the universe [are] about to be revealed” (14). On April 5 and 6, 1743 (shortly before his generalized tonic-clonic seizure , GTCS) , Swedenborg described such an aura in his Journal of Dreams (hereinafter designated JD. (Paragraphs in all his works have been numbered, in accord with Swedenborg’s lifelong practice .) Had also in my mind and my body a kind of con- sciousness of an indescribable bliss, so that if it had been in a higher degree, the body would have been as it were dissolved in mere bliss. This was the night between Easter Sunday and Easter Monday, also the whole of Easter Monday. [JD48] Dostoevsky (15), who had hundreds of complex partial seizures (CPS), also experienced ecstatic au- ras, one of which coincidentally occurred, as with Swedenborg, on the night before Easter Sunday, more than 100 years later: I felt . . . that heaven had come down to earth and absorbed me. I really perceived God and was imbued with Him. Yes, God exists . . . I cried. And I can recall no more. . . . I d o not know whether that blessedness lasts seconds, hours o r minutes, yet, take my word, I would not exchange it for all the joys which life can give . . . . The ictus Before the GTCS next described, Swedenborg had made only a few references to his “sickness.” On one occasion in March 1744, he said he had entreated (from God) a cure for his sickness. Then in April he described, for the first time, an experi- Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 19% EMANUEL SWEDENBORG 213 ence involving symptoms of a major seizure, includ- ing falling, convulsions, loss of consciousness, and visual and auditory hallucinations. This event com- pletely changed the course of his life. There came over me a shuddering, so strong from the head downwards and over the whole body with a noise of thunder, and this happened several times. . . . I then fell into a sleep and at about 12:00, 1:00 or 2:OO . . . there came over me a strong shuddering from head to foot, with a thundering noise as if many winds beat together; which shook me; it was inde- scribable and prostrated me on my face . . . at that very moment I was wide awake and saw that I was cast down . . . and I spoke as if I were awake; but found nonetheless that the words were put into my mouth. “And oh! Almighty Jesus Christ, that thou . . . deigned to come to so great a sinner. Make me worthy of thy grace.” I held together my hands, and prayed, and then came forth a hand, which squeezed my hands hard. Straightway . . . I continued my prayer and said, “Thou hast promised to take to grace all sinners; thou canst nothing else but keep thy word.” At that moment, I sat in his bosom, and saw him face to face; it was a face of holy mien . . . and he smiled so that I believe that his face had indeed been like this when he lived on earth . . . he asked if I had a clear bill of health.* I answered, “Lord, thou knowest better than I.” “Well, do so,” said he. . . . Wakened, with shudderings. [JDSl] Thereafter, Swedenborg fell into a trance during which he concluded: “It was God’s own son who came down with this thunder, and prostrated me to the ground . . . and so, said I , it was Jesus himself.” [JD55] More than 30 years later, when Swedenborg’s theology was under attack by various Lutheran Bishops, Swedenborg wrote a letter of protest to the King (16) in which he repeated his claim to a personal mission from God: That our Saviour visibly revealed Himself before me and commanded me to do what I have done, and what I have still to do and that thereupon He permit- ted me to have intercourse with angels and spirits, I have declared before the whole of Christendom and . . . before your royal Majesties. Even more specifically, he had explained earlier, [I]t has been granted me . . . to be constantly . . . in company with spirits and angels, hearing them con- verse with each other, and conversing with them. Hence it has been permitted me to hear and see things in another life which are astonishing, and which have never before come to the knowledge of any man . . . I have there been instructed concerning different kinds of spirits, and the state of souls after death-concerning hell, or heaven, or the most happy state of the faithful-and particularly concern- ing the doctrine of faith which is acknowledged throughout all heaven . . . (17). Many years later, in the Apocalypse Revealed [531] and also in the Spiritual Diary [6108], Swe- denborg (18), now in his seventies, again referred to being “suddenly seized with a disease nearly dead- ly . . . I was half dead with severe pain. I expected the end. Thus I lay in my bed for three days and a half.” H e was living alone in London, but his housekeeper reported that o n this occasion as o n others he wept bitterly and cried out to the Lord not to forsake him. Asked later about the cause of his lamentation, he said, “Praise God, it is over now! . . . for whatever happens to me is permitted by the Lord.” According to biographer Strakhov (19), Dosto- evsky suffered “a terrible attack of epilepsy, from which he lay for three or four days almost uncon- scious.” The similarity between Swedenborg’s 3%- day ordeal and Dostoevsky’s 3- or 4-day ordeal sug- gests that Swedenborg’s “deadly disease” was also epilepsy, possibly involving multiple seizures or even partial status epilepticus, during those 3 ? h days. Multiple seizures are not uncommon. Gesch- wind (20) refers to a patient who “for several days [had] on-going temporal iobe seizures. ” In another case, Blumer (21) refers to a patient with CPS who is reported to have had clusters of seizures: “7-8 seizures daily for 2-3 days.” There are other exam- ples of Swedenborg’s probable CPS. In 1744, he wrote in Journal of Dreams: I came into strong shudderings . . . one [shudder] followed the other, ten or fifteen in number. I waited in expectation of being thrown upon my face . . . but this did not occur. . . . The shudders all started from below in the body and went up to the head. [JD209] Later that year, he wrote: “Was long in holy shud- ders; yet at the same time in a deep sleep . . . seemed to me as if I was cast upon my face. . . .” [JD228] And again: [Tlhere came upon me again the same kind of giddi- ness or swoon . . . so that I appeared to be near death. It came when I saw the light; threw me upon my face; but passed off by degrees; because little periods of sleep came over me. [JD282] Trance states In his seizure records (1861-1881), Dostoevsky (22) refers to a “contemplative mood” suggestive of a trance state: * Bill of Health . . . a certificate from the proper authorities as to the state of health of a ship’s company, at the time of her leaving port (Webster’s Third). Thoughts fragmentary . . . dreaminess, pensiveness. . . . In general the aftermath of attacks, i.e. nervous- ness, shortness of memory, an intensified and foggy Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 1996 214 E . FOOTE-SMITH AND T . J . SMITH so-to-speak contemplative state now continues longer. Swedenborg’s trance states followed dreams, which sometimes followed seizures. Often, he be- gan describing such trance states with the word “Afterwards,” e.g. : Afterwards, when I was awake . . . and Afterwards (after a dream) my knees were moved of themselves. (Dreamed of) how I was in waking trances nearly the whole time. . . . [JD12] Fell again into such a state that I was in thoughts neither sleeping, nor waking. Thought, what can this be . . . ? [JD55] [Bletween 3:OO and 4:OO in the morning, I wakened and lay awake but as in a vision. . . . [JD87] [Dluring the whole night, for about 11 hours, I was neither asleep nor awake, in a strange trance; knew all that I dreamed . . . the state of this sleep I cannot at all describe. . . . [JD1741 This was in a vision when I was neither waking nor sleeping, but I had all my thoughts together. . . . [JD207] In 1769, 25 years after his vision of Christ, Swe- denborg (23) described a vision that followed the public appearance of his Brief Exposition of the Doctrine of the N e w Church: . . . When this preliminary treatise was finished, the whole Heaven, from east to west and from south to north, appeared to be covered with beautiful roses of a deep scarlet hue, so that all who were present with me in the world of spirits were astonished at it; this was a sign of the assent and joy of the New Heaven. . . . Double thoughts Van Dusen (24) described doubling of thought as “relatively rare: each thought arises with its own opposite and there is opposition.” George Orwell (25) called it “doublethink.” His definition: “. . . doublethink means the power of holding two con- tradictory beliefs in one’s mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them. . . . Even in using the word doublethink it is necessary to exercise double- think.” The distinguished 19th century French ep- ileptologist Dr. Theodore Herpin (26) described the double thoughts of some of his epileptic patients which closely resemble those of Swedenborg: There are two persons in me, one of which is in pos- session of reason, and the other-of madness. It seems that one part of my intelligence witnesses the other’s aberrations. I hear a conversation. I am agitated by two ideas combatting each other. Comparable examples of double thought were re- ported by Swedenborg. It was wonderful that I could have two thoughts, quite separate, at one and the same time. . . . [JD69] Was continually in a fight with double thoughts that battled against each other. [JD118] The whole day I was in double thought. . . . [JD121] In vision it seemed to me as if something were torn asunder in the air. It may perhaps betoken that my double thought should be torn asunder. [.ID1631 The following dream combines trance and double thoughts : During the whole night, for about 11 hours, I was neither asleep nor awake, in a strange trance: knew all that I dreamed. . . . The state of this sleep I can- not at all describe; but through it my double thoughts were in a manner severed or split asunder. [JD174] Mental confusion and memory deficits Memory loss is a frequent aftereffect of epileptic seizures. Rowan and Rosenbaum (27) defined ictal amnesia as “a transient disturbance of memory function which is caused by a seizure (or by its aftereffect), and which has no other clinical mani- festation.” They suggested that repeated (but dis- crete) periods of memory loss are often associated with recurrent seizures. According to Kapur (28), Swedenborg’s mental confusion and memory defi- cits, so closely associated with epilepsy and its symptoms, can be characterized as transient epilep- tic amnesia (TEA). The duration of Swedenborg’s memory deficits appears to have been short-range, apparently aftereffects of seizures, and associated with a particular dream or dream state: Afterwards I wakened and slept again many times . . . it was all heavenly; clear for me at the time; but afterwards I can explain nothing of it. [.ID441 [Dlreamt much, after which I had shiverings, but could not bring any of it to mind, for every time the dreams vanished from me. [JD154-5] I was dreaming the whole night, though only the smallest fraction of it comes t o mind. It was as if I was being taught all night in many things of which I have no recollection. [JD105] Behavioral correlates In 1977, Bear and Fedio (29), proposed an asso- ciation between interictal personality and behavior- al traits and TLE. Although the association remains quite controversial, many neurologists accept Geschwind’s argument (30) that “in a very large proportion of patients with temporal lobe epilepsy there is a characteristic constellation of behavioral clinical findings.” Of the 18 possible behavioral cor- relates cited by Bear and Fedio (29), a cluster of eight appears to be clearly manifest in Sweden- borg’s case. Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 1996 EMANUEL SWEDENBORG 215 Emotionality-a deepening of all emotions, sustaining intense affect Describing his experience on that fateful night in 1744, the usually temperate and composed Sweden- borg accentuated its emotional significance in Jour- nal of Dreams with the heading “April 6-7. N.B. N.B. N.B.” [JD51-56] Before this vision, he had feared that his faith was not strong enough. “I be- lieved and I did not believe. . . .” [JD49] After the vision, he fell into an exultant trance: ‘‘[A111 was holy . . . it was Jesus himself. . . .” [JDSSI Elation, euphoria-grandiosity, exhilarated mood After convincing himself that he had really seen Jesus, Swedenborg (31), highly euphoric, strove to moderate his exhilaration with humility. He was never pretentiously grandiose; he considered him- self merely an instrument and “The Servant of the Lord Jesus Christ” (32). Sense of personal destiny-Events given highly charged, personalized signi3cance; divine guidance ascribed to many features of patient’s life Swedenborg’s great sense of personal destiny re- solved from euphoria to a mood of contentment with his role as servant acting under divine guid- ance. Two days before he died, in preparation for administration of the rite of communion, Sweden- borg (33) declared earnestly to the Pastor: “As truly as you see me before your eyes, so true is every- thing that I have written.” Humorlessness, sobriety According to Benson (34): “The intellectual in- terests of epileptic patients with postictal behavior- al problems tend to be serious, producing a sober, somber, humorless attitude.” There appears to have been little humor and a superabundance of complacent sobriety in Swedenborg’s life. Accord- ing to Count von Hopken ( 3 9 , who had known him for more than 40 years, Swedenborg’s predominant and enduring “temper of mind” was one of seren- ity; he was “always contented, never fretful or mo- rose,” and was generally considered pious, sober, dignified, tranquil, and measured. Hypermoralism-attention to rules with inability to distinguish significant from minor infractions; desire to punish offenders As a theologist, Swedenborg was pragmatically moralistic, but we can rule out hypermoralism to- gether with any personal desire to punish offenders; the latter, he believed, was God’s province. Altered sexual interest-loss of libido, hyposexualism, fetishism, transvestism, hypersexual episodes Although Swedenborg never married, he was far from being hyposexual; rather, entries in Journal of Dreams after his first recorded GTCS indicate hy- persexuality . Lay with one that was by no means pretty, but still I liked her. [JD120] She with her hand touched my member, and it grew large, larger than it ever had been. I turned round and applied myself; it bent, yet it went in. She said it was long. I thought during the act that a child must come of it; and it succeeded en merveille. [JD171] Still I could not at all . . . hinder myself from seek- ing after the sex. [JD200] Swedenborg interpreted these sexual dreams in symbolic terms. [JD286] Aggression-overt hostility, rage attacks, violent crimes, murder If, in any sense, Swedenborg could be considered aggressive, it was definitely in his theological writ- ings, as in his Summary Exposition of the Doctrine of the New Church (36), in which he bluntly at- tacked both Catholics and Protestants for their theological errors such as clinging to the polytheis- tic idea of three gods and the belief in salvation through faith alone. Sadness-discouragement, tearfulness, self-deprecation; diagnosis of depression, and suicide attempts awakened and recorded a dream. On the day before Easter, 1743, Swedenborg Began weeping because I had not loved [God] at all but instead had continually angered him that led me and had shown me the way . . . to the kingdom of grace; and because I had grown unworthy to be taken to grace. [JD36] Dostoevsky also experienced periods of depres- sion. His doctor, Yanovsky (37), made frequent ref- erences in his Memoirs to Dostoevsky’s depres- sions. And in his notebook, Dostoevsky sometimes referred to his postictal “depression” and “object- less . . . melancholy.” Studies by Blumer (38) indicate that among patients with complex feelings during an epileptic attack “fear was the leading emotion . . . with de- pressive mood being the next common.” Sweden- borg’s depression was based on fear of unworthi- ness. The following self-deprecatory comments ap- pear in the Journal of Dreams: I found myself more unworthy than others and the greatest of sinners. [JD741 Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 19% 216 E . FOOTE-SMITH A N D T . J . SMITH Afterwards I recognized myself as unclean, un- clean with filth, from head to foot. [JDS] Informed by his friend Carl Robsahm (39) of an appalling plot to have Swedenborg declared men- tally deranged and confined to a lunatic asylum, Robsahm wrote: Swedenborg . . . fell upon his knees in tears and prayed to the Lord asking Him what he should do. He received the comforting assurance that no evil would befall him-as was the case. Religiosity-holding deep religious beliefs, often idiosyncratic, multiple conversions, mystical states After he received what he perceived as a mission from God, Swedenborg abandoned science and de- voted the rest of his life to his abundant theological writings. These were characteristically idiosyn- cratic; indeed, he prophesied the establishment of a new church he had envisioned. Six years after he died, a church based on his teachings was estab- lished in London; the New Jerusalem Church (or “New Church”) exists today, with branches throughout the world (40). Hypergraphia-the tendency to write extensively, with a content that is typically religious, philosophical, or cosmic Swedenborg was a prolific and seemingly inex- haustible writer; e.g., his Arcana Coelestia alone consists of more than two million words. He claimed (41) that much of what he wrote was dic- tated to him by spirits, sometimes viva voce, but often the words came through automatic writing: “Nay I have written entire pages, and the spirits did not dictate the words, but absolutely guided my hand, so that it was they who were doing the writ- ing.” He maintained that what the spirits were dic- tating came from God. Etiology The etiology of Swedenborg’s TLE is problem- atic. As with those of St. Paul, Joan of Arc, and other famous historical figures of the past who had epilepsy, a definitive pathologic analysis of the or- igin of the seizures of Swedenborg remains beyond our reach. Hauser et al. (42) showed that cases with epilepsy in the absence of any history of previous neurologic insult are usually categorized as idio- pathic or cryptogenic. No evidence suggests that Swedenborg had access to or would have used be- havior-altering drugs. Details of his attacks and the absence of headaches argue against migraine. Swe- denborg’s seizures, like those of Dostoevsky, oc- curred almost always at night or in the early morn- ing, so that despite contrary rumors of sickness from a housekeeper and others acquainted with his private life, his health was said to be excellent; his close friend Cuno (43) described him as “a perfect wonder of health,” even at age 81 years. Like Dostoevsky (whom Freud mistakenly diag- nosed as an hysteric), Swedenborg was not a hys- terical person. Instead, he was a singularly com- posed, sedate thinker. Woofenden (44) concluded that a mind to all appearance calm, logical, system- atic, and consistently convincing for a period of 28 years, could not have been a victim of “fancy or delusions.” Fenwick (45) states that “seizures do not occur in a behavioral vacuum.” He emphasizes the abun- dant evidence that “feelings, thinking, and behav- ior” are important in the seizure process and that “a true understanding of a patient and his seizures requires both the neurological and the psychiatric points of view.” However, Stevens (46), reviewing the relationships between temporal lobe pathology and psychosis, concludes: “Most patients with ep- ilepsy (including TLE) do not have, or will never develop, schizophrenia-like psychoses.” There is no suggestion that Swedenborg had such a disorder; his lifelong involvement in public affairs as a noble- man, his political contributions as a member of the Diet (e.g., long after he had turned from science to theology, he presented proposals in the House of Nobles concerning Sweden’s trade imbalance and the shocking prevalence of alcoholism in Sweden), his scientific achievements and membership and participation in the Royal Academy of Sciences, and the reasonableness and equanimity with which he conducted his daily life all testify to his judgment and mental balance. Although he died of a stroke at age 84, there is no suggestion of previous ischemic events. We propose, however, that tremendous emo- tional stress may have been an exacerbating factor. Fenwick (47) suggested that epileptic seizures may be psychogenic, and Mattson (48) concluded: “Emotional factors can alter the likelihood of sei- zure occurrence, and they usually increase the fre- quency of attacks.” Before writing Journal of Dreams, Swedenborg had long been at work on an anatomic study of the human brain, with the ulti- mate purpose (and very high hopes) of finding the substances and seat of the human soul in the cortex, thereby revealing God’s link to man. The fervor with which he approached this critical work is evi- dent in the prologue to Regnum Animale (49): I . . . am determined to allow myself no respite until I have run through the whole field to the very goal- until I have traversed the universal animal kingdom, to the soul. Thus I hope, that by bending my course Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 1996 EMANUEL SWEDENBORG 217 inwards continually, I shall open all the doors that lead to her, and at length contemplate the soul her- self by the divine permission. Although he made important original physiologi- cal discoveries concerning the structure and func- tion of the brain (50), perhaps Swedenborg’s failure as a scientist to identify the seat of the soul in the brain resulted in a disappointment so shattering to him that it precipitated a psychoemotional crisis. Thereafter, he turned away from his brilliant and highly successful lifelong scientific career and be- gan to experience and record his extraordinary dreams and seizures, during one of which he estab- lished his own personal link with God when he saw and spoke with Jesus and received what he abso- lutely believed to be his mission. This was the turn- ing point in his life. Swedenborg (51) denied that his visions were “phantasms,” his word for hallucina- tions. His “revelations,” he believed, came to him as a result of “ a suspension of bodily sensations during which he received “angelic wisdom . . . by influx from above into the spiritual parts of his mind. ’ ’ An evaluation of Swedenborg as a person with epilepsy does not devalue his achievements. In- stead it places him in the remarkable group of em- inent, creative humans who had the same neurolog- ical illness. Serene in his role as servant of the Lord, Swedenborg was immune to the many “poi- soned arrows” his contemporaries aimed at his character and his writings. Perhaps he (52) meant to speak to future generations when he responded to one slanderer of his last work, Vera Christiana Re- ligio: Read, if you please, what has been written . . . and afterward draw your own conclusion-but from rea- son-concerning my revelation. Acknowledgment: We wish to acknowledge the gener- ous support provided by Mercedes Untawale, Head of Circulation at the University of California’s Doe Library, and by the very helpful cooperation of the Library’s In- terlibrary Loan Service. REFERENCES 1. 2. 3. 4. 5 . 6. Barrett BF. Life of Emanual Swedenborg: with some ac- count of his writings. New York: S . Colman, 1841:34. Swedenborg E. Autobiographical letter. In: Barrett, New York: S. Colman, 1841:ll. See also Sigstedt CO. The Swe- denborg epic. New York: Bookman Associates, 195258. Trobridge G. Swedenborg: life and teaching. New York: The Swedenborg Foundation, 1962:284-7. Emerson RW. Representative men: seven lectures. Boston: Houghton Mif€lin, 1884:111,100. Woofenden WR. Swedenborg’s philosophy of causality. In: The new philosophy. Bryn Athyn: Swedenborg Scientific Association, 1990-199 1 :240. Swedenborg E. Arcana coelestia, 1749-1756. Third edition. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. London: Swedenborg Society, 1949: 16. See Woofenden WR. Swedenborg’s philosophy of causality. In: The new phi- losophy. Bryn Athyn: Swedenborg Scientific Association, 199&1991:241. Swedenborg E. Autobiographical letter. In: Sigstedt CO. The Swedenborg epic. New Y o r k Bookman Association, 1952:495. See also Swedenborg E. The word explained. Bryn Athyn: Swedenborg Scientific Association,l928-1948: [2162] and [475]. Kant E. Dreams of a spirit-seer. New York: McMillan Co., 1900;lOl ff. See also Sigstedt CO. The Swedenborg epic. New York: Bookman Association, 1952:342. Coleridge ST. “ A vindication of great men unjustly branded.” Literary Remains IV; 423. See also Tafel RL. Emanuel Swedenborg as a philosopher and man of science. Chicago: E. B. Myers and Chandler, 1867:34. Swedenborg E. Letter to the King, 1772. In: Sigstedt CO. The Swedenborg epic. 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Strakhov NN. Biografiia, 1861:213. In: Rice JL. Dostoevsky and the healing art. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1984; Appendix 287. Geschwind N. Epilepsia 1983;24(suppl):S23-30. Blumer D. Epilepsy and disorders of mood. New York: Raven Press, 1991:186. (Advances in neurology, vol. 5 5 ) . Rice JL. Dostoevsky and the healing a r t . Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1985:293,298. Swedenborg E. A brief exposition of the doctrine o f the N e w Church. Amsterdam, 1769. See Sigstedt CO. New York: Bookman Association; 1952:375. Van Dusen W. The presence of other worlds. New York: Harper & Row, 1972:40. Orwell G. 1984. New York: Harcourt Brace, 1949:17&7. Herpin T . Du pronostic et du traitement curatif d e l’epilep- sie. Paris: Bailliere, 1852. See Rice JL. Dostoevsky and the healing art. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1985:163-8. Rowan AJ, Rosenbaum DH. Ictal amnesia and fugue states. New York: Raven Press, 1991:357. (Advances in neurology; vol. 5 5 . ) Kapur N. Transient epileptic amnesia-a clinical update and a reformulation. J Neurol Psycho1 1993;56: 1184-90. Bear DM, Fedio P. Quantitative analysis of interictal behav- ior in temporal lobe epilepsy. Arch Neurol 1977;34:454-7. Geschwind N. Interictal behavioral changes in epilepsy. Ep- ilepsia 1983 ;24(suppl) : S23-30. Swedenborg E. Letter to Rev. Thomas Hartley. In: Barrett BF. Life of Emanuel Swedenborg. New York: S . Colman, 1841:12. See also Woofenden WR. The new philosophy. Bryn Athyn: Swedenborg Scientific Association, 1991:412. Barrett BF. Life of Emanuel Swedenborg: with some ac- count of his writings. New York: S . Colman, 1841:12. Sigstedt CO. The Swedenborg epic. New York: Bookman Association, 1952:432. Epilepsia, Vol. 37, N o . 2, 1996 218 E . FOOTE-SMITH AND T . J . SMITH 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. Benson DF. The Geschwind syndrome. New York: Raven Press, 1991:415. (Advances in neurology; vol. 55.) Count A. J. von Hopken. In: Toksvig S. Emanuel Sweden- borg: scientist and mystic [Letter]. 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Evocation and inhibition of seizures: behavioral treatment. New York: Raven Press, 1991:179. (Advances in neurology; vol. 55.) 46. Stevens JE. Psychosis and the temporal lobe. New York Raven Press, 1991:93. (Advances in neurology; vol. 55.) 47. Fenwick P. Evocation and inhibition of seizures: behavioral treatment. New York: Raven Press, 1991:163. (Advances in neurology; vol. 5 5 . ) 48. Mattson RH. Emotional effects on seizure occurrence . New York: Raven Press, 1991:460. (Advances in neurology; vol. 5 5 . ) 49. Swedenborg E. Regnum animale, 1744-1745. See Woofen- den, WR. The new philosophy. Bryn Athyn: Swedenborg Scientific Association, 1990-1991 :259. 50. Goetz PW, ed. Encyclopedia Britannica, Chicago: Encyclo- pedia Britannica, Inc, 1991;11:438. 51. Swedenborg E. Spiritual diary. 1747-1765; [6208] and [6107] and Apocalypse revealed; 1776; [533]. See Toksvig S, Eman- uel Swedenborg. New Haven: Yale University, 1948:307. 52. Swedenborg E. Vera christiana religio, 1771. 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work_whae3xkkffbojjarlftshzrpoq	----	Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 著者 Nijibayashi Kei journal or publication title Journal of Language Literature and Culture volume 62 number 1 page range 19-31 year 2015-04-13 URL http://hdl.handle.net/10228/00006146 doi: info:doi/10.1179/2051285615z.00000000047 Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 1 Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch Kei Nijibayashi George Eliot, like her husband, George Henry Lewes, admired John Ruskin’s writings. For example, in a letter to Sara Hennell dated 17 January 1858, she praises him, comparing his work with that of Wordsworth: But I venerate him as one of great teachers of the day. The grand doctrines of truth and sincerity in art, and the nobleness and solemnity of our human life, which he teaches with the inspiration of a Hebrew prophet, must be stirring up young minds in a promising way . . . . He is strongly akin to the sublimest part of Wordsworth . . . . 1 She felt moral affinities with Ruskin through Wordsworth, and she seems to have felt the same with his socio-political thought: “his little book on the ‘Political Economy of Art’ contains some magnificent passages” (Eliot, Letters 422). 2 But his influence on Eliot’s novels, especially his ideas on political economy, still remains to be explored. Born in 1819, Ruskin was greatly influenced by the Romantic poets and was thoroughly acquainted with Byron and Scott, 3 especially through his father, John James, who was enthusiastic about these writers. He also admired Wordsworth and read Shelley and Keats with appreciation. Following these Romantic poets, Ruskin celebrated both the Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 2 natural world and human nature as innately spontaneous and free, and his moral aspiration was supplemented by the evangelicalism taught by his mother, Margaret. His Romantic thought provided a philosophical background when he expounded his humanitarian theories of sensibility and morality in aesthetic writings like The Modern Painters and The Stones of Venice. He argued that individual will, which is indispensable to the progress of society, appears not only in art (individual and collective) but also in economic and political activities. He believed that Romantic aspiration was the main force for such progress, having been sustained through the centuries from masons in the Middle Ages to the middle and working class of the nineteenth century. His writings on “political economy” like Unto This Last and Munera Pulveris, modified and adopted the same theory as his aesthetic writings. He criticised Victorian society for its indifference to social problems and economic disparities, and emphasized the importance of social affection (or what the Romantics called “sympathy”) as the essential force for social betterment: “. . . for the affections only become a true motive power when they ignore every other motive and condition of political economy” (XVII: 31). 4 He clearly shows in Munera Pulveris that his vision of a better society was derived from Romantic self- development: “By sensibility I mean its natural perception of beauty, fitness, and rightness; or of what is lovely, decent, and just: faculties dependent much on race, and the primal signs of fine breeding in man; but cultivable also by education, and necessarily perishing without it” (XVII: 232). Ruskin’s ideal political economy required such aesthetics for social maturity and prosperity. Since George Eliot, born in the same year as Ruskin, also read and admired Romantic literature, this article will focus on Eliot’s use of and reference to it as the common background and will explore the implicit but discernible influence of Ruskin’s socio- Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 3 political thought on Eliot’s Middlemarch. This is the only novel by Eliot in which an aesthetic discussion develops into a socio-political one (just as Ruskin’s own interest changed in the same way, from Modern Painters to Unto This Last and Munera Pulveris). I shall first focus on the Romantic idealism of Dorothea to demonstrate Eliot’s inheritance of Romanticism as similar to Ruskin’s. 5 Her developing thought has to be excursively analysed to define her aspiring and altruistic disposition as comparable to Ruskin’s. 6 In the second part of this article, I shall go on to introduce Ruskin as the key figure for re-reading the novel in a new light, especially for interpreting the shifting interest of Dorothea and Ladislaw from the aesthetic to the socio-political. Discussing Ruskin’s political economy (according to Ruskin, the term represents not only domestic economy like the original Greek “oikonomia,” but also social environment achievable by economic activities), I shall try to show how his socio-political thought is incorporated into Dorothea’s behaviour in financial affairs, and how Eliot was influenced by Ruskin, especially in the emergence of Dorothea’s Romantic political economy. Dorothea and Romanticism Middlemarch was created by combining two different episodes (the Lydgate section started in 1869 and the Dorothea section in 1870). It is acknowledged that George Eliot’s interest in social matters lay more in the narrative of the ambitious young physician than that of the philanthropic but naive woman. However, the prelude and the finale in which St. Theresa’s image is imprinted upon Dorothea suggest that she functions as the centre of the novel’s plots, as St. Theresa cut a figure in fourteenth century Avila, Spain. She is involved in every significant moment in the plot, bringing peace and order among her friends and acquaintances like Farebrother, Lydgate, and Rosamond. As Harvey points Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 4 out: “George Eliot does allow Dorothea her climactic moment and she prepares for it by a device which she also used in The Mill on the Floss (and of which James also was very fond); the mounting series of interviews—Dorothea and Lydgate, Dorothea and Rosamond, Dorothea and Will.” 7 Although the scope of her sympathy is limited, the finale describes how diffusively Dorothea contributes to achieving amicability in rural society and it seems, therefore, misleading to underestimate her function in the novel. 8 Dorothea is not a complete, saint-like figure and her maturation process forms the novel’s dynamism. (So, the novel can be considered as a kind of Bildungsroman.) Her only failure, her marriage to Casaubon, comes about mainly on her side due to her ardent wish to be wiser and more useful: “It would be like marrying Pascal. I should learn to see the truth by the same light as great men have seen it by. And then I should know what to do, when I got older: I should see how it was possible to lead a grand life here—now—in England” (3: 24). 9 However mistaken she is in seeing Casaubon as “a modern Augustine” (3: 21), her wish for self-realization is prompted and augmented partly by her self-absorbed idealism and her optimism about her spiritual prospects, and partly by her anxiety about an inactive womanhood: “For a long while she had been oppressed by the indefiniteness which hung in her mind, like a thick summer haze, over all her desire to make her life greatly effective” (3: 24). This explains her wish to be liberated from her inertia under the yoke of womanhood and inactive wealth, and perhaps from Middlemarch. While her sense of devotion to others partly conceals her aspiration for intellectual development, her prospects of marriage offer an opportunity for her escapism and idealism. This contrast between escapism and meliorism identifies her with those Romantic idealists who tried to survey, re-interpret, and improve society through their individual development both in knowledge and sensitivity. Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 5 Her encounter with art works in museums and galleries in Rome reveals her inner passion as Romantic; she feels suffocated by them not only because of her puritan repugnance at the lavishness of Italian art, but also because of a rich sensibility overreacting to them: “Dorothea had no such defence against deep impressions . . . all this vast wreck of ambitious ideals, sensual and spiritual . . . jarred her as with an electric shock, and then urged themselves on her with that ache belonging to a glut of ideas which check the flow of emotion” (20: 159). Overloaded with impressions, she cannot relegate them to the background as other insensitive members of “Anglo-foreign society” superficially appreciate art pieces (20: 158). 10 This may mean that she unconsciously defends herself from her inner impulse for the sensuous and discovers her passion for the spiritual as replaceable by sensuous satisfactions. In this sense, her philanthropic projects for family, friends, and neighbours can be understood as the veil that camouflages her sensitivity and its versatile self-expression. Naumann sees in her “a sort of Christian Antigone—sensuous force controlled by spiritual passion” (19: 156). This predominance of sensitivity over reason also represents her as Romantic: “she was enamoured of intensity and greatness, and rash in embracing whatever seemed to her to have those aspects; likely to seek martyrdom, to make retractions” (1: 8). In this attitude, she is idealistic and Romantic like Romola, Daniel Deronda, and Felix Holt, who innocently believe in achieving their ideal vision through magnanimous compassion, Zionism, and social reformation. It is no wonder that Dorothea is destined to be attracted and bound to Ladislaw not just because she wishes to be freed from the stock values of the local society but also because she has a similar disposition. 11 Dorothea tells him of her creed of moral improvement: “That by desiring what is perfectly good, even when we don’t quite know what it is and cannot do what we would, we are part of the divine power Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 6 against evil—widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower” (39: 321). Following the image of religious dichotomy of light and darkness, her language remains secularly tinted in her agnostic suspension of moral judgement and her approach towards the unattainable from anthropocentric thoughts. Ladislaw immediately supplements her aesthetics about morality with his own creed: “To love what is good and beautiful when I see it” (39: 321). Persuading Ladislaw into agreement with her, she reconfirms her own idea as Romantic: “But if you like what is good, that comes to the same thing” (39: 321). Encouraged by Ladislaw, Dorothea assimilates his idea to her own, and she is unknowingly ready to combine aesthetic with socio-political thought. Dorothea’s idea of light’s progress makes for an interesting parallel with Shelley’s Defence of Poetry, which gives the image of a widening circumference or skirt of moral goodness: “A man, to be greatly good, must imagine intensely and comprehensively; he must put himself in the place of another and of many others; the pains and pleasures of his species must become his own. The great instrument of moral good is the imagination . . . Poetry enlarges the circumference of imagination.” 12 This passage recalls Ruskin’s claim for the moral significance of aesthetics, which George Eliot herself repeats in her review of the third volume of Modern Painters: The fundamental principles of all just thought and beautiful action or creation are the same, and in making clear to ourselves what is best and noblest in art, we are making clear to ourselves what is best and noblest in morals; in learning how to estimate the artistic products of a particular age according to the mental attitude and external life of that age, we are widening our sympathy and deepening the Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 7 basis of our tolerance and charity. 13 Dorothea’s Romanticism, thus confirmed, develops through Ladislaw who gradually builds up her image as representative of the unattainable in his imagination and belief. At first, Ladislaw considered her to be “an unpleasant girl” for having married Casaubon, and as “stupid” (9: 65) about pictures. However, his view is immediately corrected when he is struck by her voice, which reveals her spiritual excellence: “There was too much cleverness in her apology: she was laughing both at her uncle and himself. But what a voice! It was like the voice of a soul that had once lived in an Aeolian harp” (9: 65). Her spiritual beauty fascinates him, for voice is always associated with breath, which, in Greek, etymologically means spirit. He appropriately compares her to an Aeolian harp, as Shelley does: “Man is an instrument over which a series of external and internal impressions are driven, like the alternations of an ever-changing wind over an Æolian lyre” (480). Ladislaw has found his own soul perceiving its echo or its ideal partner in Dorothea’s voice: “this soul out of my soul” (Epipsychidion, line 238). For him, she represents the ideal partly embodied, inspiration, and art itself: “You are a poem—and that is to be the best part of a poet—what makes up the poet’s consciousness in his best moods” (22: 183). Her beautiful voice is also inseparable from her morality, as Ruskin generally discusses the beauty of voice in The Queen of the Air as follows: “the sweetness of voice comes of the past morality of her race” (XIX: 393). Seduced by Dorothea’s voice, Ladislaw decides to quit painting and chooses to lead a life in which he can admire her and aid in her attaining spiritual satisfaction through social improvement: “The Æolian harp again came into his mind” (21: 171). It is important, however, to note that Ladislaw’s motive is not simply overawed by her saint-like Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 8 influence. One must also recognize Ladislaw’s influence on Dorothea to reconsider her own ambition. Having sensed reformative drive in Dorothea’s aesthetics in philanthropy, Ladislaw changes his professional target from art to politics. Dorothea criticizes the separation between the state of fine arts and ordinary people who never see and learn from them. I should like to make life beautiful—I mean everybody’s life. And then all this immense expense of art, that seems somehow to lie outside life and make it not better for the world, pains one. It spoils my enjoyment of anything when I am made to think that most people are shut out from it (22: 179-180). Dorothea not only clarifies the problem as inclusive of social class but also connotes the possible efficiency of fine arts in the future; enjoyment in art may well be shared with most people, possibly for the public welfare: “art for life” or “beauty of life.” This problem is to be solved by using the accumulated wealth and spending it for the public; then art will be valuable for all in the end. This is the very idea Ruskin argued in his Political Economy of Art (“A Joy For Ever”). He aimed to make paintings publicly accessible (especially in museums) as a means of developing morality among people through appreciating them. Inheriting Ruskin’s idea, William Morris tried to realize the “art of life” by advocating the necessity of art in ordinary life in his socialistic writings like “The Art of the People” and “The Beauty of Life,” which were published after Middlemarch. Like those of Ruskin and Morris, Dorothea’s view of art in society seems to be of the Romantic tradition and aligns with the humanistic aesthetics of these two writers. Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 9 Divining Dorothea’s socio-political intention, even in her “fanaticism of sympathy” (22: 180), Ladislaw sees the possibility of his cause being realized through Dorothea. This unique mixture of cause and love sustains him through all the trials of temptation such as his flirtation with Rosamond and Bulstrode’s financial offer for his miserable past. 14 He strengthens his love for Dorothea by his imaginary bond with her in the Romantic cause: “to have within him such a feeling as he had towards Dorothea, was like the inheritance of a fortune” (47: 384). His political creed as duty emerges under the influence of Dorothea’s “widening the skirts of light and making the struggle with darkness narrower” (39: 321); now his political aim is rendered as “cure” (46: 381) of “the massive sense of wrong” (46: 381). 15 Considering the affinity of the two minds, it seems as if she was subconsciously controlling Ladislaw as her political representative; or it is possible for us to regard the couple as a political unit. We can interpret that Ladislaw’s activity with his seat in parliament provides Dorothea with a vista to ponder upon the indirect but practical effect of her philanthropy. In this light, it is significant that he proposes her own happiness as the one and only condition of it, responding to her extreme self-sacrifice: The best piety is to enjoy—when you can. You are doing the most then to save the earth’s character as an agreeable planet. And enjoyment radiates. It is of no use to try and take care of all the world; that is being taken care of when you feel delight—in art or in anything else (22: 180). This epicurean solipsism superficially repeats that of Romanticism; one’s better perception promises the other’s improvement, and finally everyone’s welfare. But the Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 10 situation is still the same that Dorothea, being a woman, is excluded from any actual socio-political activities, apart from certain kinds of donations and charities. Her self- realization is only possible through her husband’s activities as an MP. It is also possible to see that Dorothea subconsciously feels Ladislaw is subordinate. Apart from her pity towards Ladislaw “used so ill” (83: 659) and her respect for his thoughts and ideas, she defines him as controllable in her imagination. The narrator explains this as a parable of a princess and a strange animal. The animal is free and independent but needs tending; the princess is materially satisfied but needs freer self- expression: But her soul thirsted to see him. How could it be otherwise? If a princess in the days of enchantment had seen a four-footed creature from among those which live in herds come to her once and again with a human gaze which rested upon her with choice and beseeching, what would she think of in her journeying, what would she look for when the herds passed her? Surely for the gaze which had found her, and which she would know again. (54: 440) Ladislaw as the tended animal is represented as a safe, controllable man for Dorothea. Together with the fact that Ladislaw is popular with old ladies at Farebrother’s and with children in the village, Eliot seems to be content to leave him a childlike creature who is not likely to shatter, even when faced with practicalities, the idealism of an inexperienced woman like Dorothea. 16 Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 11 Dorothea and Ruskin The question should be asked how Dorothea actually tries to put her creed into practice. She is always concerned about her social contributions, like building cottages for tenants or joining in the management of the new hospital, perhaps because of her evangelical education. But, as the reviewer in the British Quarterly Review, 1 April 1873, points out, her motive is far from Christian: “It is true that the Divine Sprit lives in her, but she does not live in Him. She has not the joy, though she has the strength of the spiritual life.” 17 Her principle is individualistic, strongly conscious of her gender, her social position and her own character: “I used to despise women a little for not shaping their lives more, and doing better things. I was very fond of doing as I liked, but I have almost given it up” (54: 445). Having obtained the monetary means only available to ladies of the landed classes, her property has to be spent not only to realize local social improvement but also “to make her life greatly effective” (3: 24). 18 Her emphasis on individual determination contrasts with the mechanically systematic form of charity practised by churches and organizations; her principle is spontaneous and original, “never heeding that she was a very young woman” (76: 623). The picture in which the most able, intellectual men like Farebrother and Lydgate are at the mercy of a naive, young widow seems controversial for the taken-for-granted values in a local town in the early nineteenth century, as Tennyson describes a similar inversion as socially disturbing in The Princess (1847). Eliot describes the idealistic individualism of Dorothea as rebellious and therefore dramatic. There are two major aspects to Dorothea’s charity. First, her project is never equivocal about its practical effects as well as its precise targets. She expects a better social atmosphere in Farebrother’s parsonage and the advanced medical treatment at the Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 12 new hospital under Lydgate’s supervision. She carefully investigates their personalities and potentialities before she invests money in them. She asks Lydgate about Farebrother’s life and sermons before she decides to transfer to him the vicarage at Lowick. In helping Lydgate too, she interviews him and reconfirms his moral goodness; she understands his honesty as extending to both personal and social spheres and worthy of her investment: “I believe that people are almost always better than their neighbours think they are” (72: 601). She willingly invests in human goodness and expects better social relationships from it, as Ruskin defines that true wealth derives from investment in people: “the true veins of wealth are purple—and not in Rock, but in Flesh” (XVII: 55- 56). Another aspect is her fervour, which is often described as reckless or quixotic in other people’s eyes as Casaubon ironically describes it as “her Quixotic enthusiasm” (42: 344). Lydgate observes it also paradoxically when he acknowledges her financial help: “Lydgate did not stay to think that she was Quixotic” (76: 625).The image of Don Quixote implies both her misrecognition of social customs and her noble but blind belief in virtues and philanthropy. 19 Like St. Theresa, Dorothea becomes most quixotic when she proposes a utopian plan for workers: “I have delightful plans. I should like to take a great deal of land, and drain it, and make it a little colony, where everybody should work, and all the work should be done well” (55: 449). Considering Dorothea as a Romantic figure, it is not so surprising. There were many utopian plans and experiments for ideal communities both in the early and the later nineteenth century. In the early nineteenth century, Coleridge planned the scheme of Pantisocracy together with Robert Southey. In the USA, the experiment of Brook Farm (1841-47) in West Roxbury was put into practice, supported by such prominent figures as Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ralph Waldo Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 13 Emerson. In the latter half of the century, there were many utopian schemes and novels, including Samuel Butler’s Erewhon (1872), Bellamy’s Looking Backward (1888), and William Morris’s News from Nowhere (1890). But, above all, the most surprising fact is that Ruskin actually put his utopian plan into practice. As he reports its progress in Fors Clavigera, he conceived and carried out the plan called St. George’s Guild, providing land and budget both from supporters’ offers and from his own property (one tenth of it). Some small amounts of land were prepared for reluctant tenants, but it turned out to be a failure in less than thirty years. Together with this headlong project, the affinities between Dorothea and Ruskin are further suggested when we learn that Don Quixote was Ruskin’s favourite book. Mentioning the valour of Quixote as a sad irony, given that his true moral tenderness is wasted and ridiculed, Ruskin was deeply sympathetic to the figure, especially when the hero becomes insane without being rewarded for his efforts. 20 This echoes Ruskin’s own difficult situation when he experienced mental pressure for publishing his work on political economy only to receive vehement critique, and when all his social activities including the utopian project seemed unsuccessful. He felt Quixote so close that, in his report of the Guild, he called himself “the Don Quixote of Denmark Hill” (XXX: 110). Given her humanism, impulsiveness, and utopianism, one can see in Dorothea Ruskin’s style of charity and social contribution. Compared to the utilitarianism of John Stuart Mill and David Ricardo, which Ruskin repudiated, Ruskin’s theory on political economy is naively humane, especially in substituting mutual reliance and affection for supply and demand as motivation for economic exchange. Defining wealth as “power over men” (XVII: 46), attainable by means other than monetary possessions, he opposes the idea of monopolizing wealth and proposes its distribution among the poor, while maintaining class distinctions as Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 14 indispensable for ideal human relationship based on feudal duty and gratitude. This theory, which was first proposed in Political Economy of Art (“A Joy For Ever”), summarized in Unto This Last, and concluded in Munera Pulveris, caused a strong reaction among the public. In particular, Unto This Last attracted immense criticism for the naiveté shown by Ruskin in the use of biblical lessons to describe the mechanism of economy. The Saturday Review was the harshest in attacking Ruskin as a national disgrace: “insulting his country and reproaching his neighbours with the querulous female virulence, he may obtain a certain sort of worship.” 21 The critique represents a typical reaction from the conservative publication, but its characterization of Ruskin’s language as female is also significant because it associates his belief in distributing the wealth of the rich with church charities in which genteel women like Dorothea often took the lead. Dorothea, who cannot but think it her duty to distribute her property among people in need, must have agreed with Ruskin’s theory. She reproachfully contrasts herself as extravagant with common people, watching a scene of their lives, which has been repeated for aeons: On the road there was a man with a bundle on his back and a woman carrying her baby; in the field she could see figures moving—perhaps the shepherd with his dog. Far off in the bending sky was the pearly light; and she felt the largeness of the world and the manifold wakings of men to labour and endurance. She was a part of that involuntary, palpitating life, and could neither look out on it from her luxurious shelter as a mere spectator, nor hide her eyes in selfish complaining (80: 644-45). Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 15 Like Ruskin, her strong sense of duty and conscience as a possessor of property embraces the common feeling against capitalistic exploitation on the one hand, and typifies her Romantic hopes for social amelioration on the other. For example, Ruskin’s comment on luxury, in which he attacks the wealthy for their ignorance of the poor and self-complacency, glosses her view: “but luxury at present can only be enjoyed by the ignorant; the cruellest man living could not sit at feast, unless he sat blindfold” (XVII: 114). Dorothea, of the select, genteel class, properly understands the situation and contributes money to the betterment of society, following her conscientious command and executing it as her obligation. Ruskin defines a person like Dorothea who knows how to use property as “valiant.” A “valiant” person, Ruskin explains, knows how to achieve wellbeing by spending money for oneself and others’ sake: “that man is richest who, having perfected the functions of his own life to the utmost, has also the widest helpful influence, both personal, and by means of his possessions, over the lives of others” (XVII: 105). In short, his ideal man of wealth has to be happy and confident in his private life so as to be able to take care of the weaker or the impoverished. 22 Dorothea seems to unknowingly aspire to become this kind of figure, following Ladislaw’s advice about her own happiness: “The best piety is to enjoy” (22: 180). She now balances her private contentment (by her marriage to him) with her philanthropic ambition, rightly recognizing her social and economic position and making it most effective by her altruistic investment: “the best way of spending money” (83: 657). No life would have been possible for Dorothea which was not filled with emotion, and she had now a life filled also with a beneficent activity which she had not the Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 16 doubtful pains of discovering and marking out for herself [ . . . ] Dorothea could have liked nothing better, since wrongs existed, than that her husband should be in the thick of a struggle against them, and that she should give him wifely help (finale: 680). In this sense, her marriage to Ladislaw is indispensable for self-realization, and she has discovered the way money can bless people’s lives, which is paraphrased by Ruskin as follows: “THERE IS NO WEALTH BUT LIFE” (XVII: 105). Dorothea’s principle in political economy is congruent with Ruskin’s also in its individualism. Although its ultimate purpose is collective, Ruskin believes that humanitarian economic distribution is only feasible individually and it eventually promises awakening of a social conscience: “all effectual advancement towards the true felicity of the human race must be by individual, not public effort” (XVII: 111). Also in his criticism of architecture, “The Nature of Gothic,” he argues that individual art works produced by masons were indispensable for the organic wholeness of Gothic architecture. Similarly, compared to St. Theresa’s achievement, Dorothea’s effort is positively assessed in the “epilogue” of the novel; a small, insignificant effort of an individual eventually has invaluable influence: But the effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive: for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs (finale: 682 [my italics]). Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 17 Although the details of Dorothea’s contribution to society are unknown, it is suggested that she has devoted herself to creation of its amicable atmosphere, like Ruskin’s happiest man, having “the widest helpful influence, both personal, and by means of his possessions, over the lives of others” (XVII: 105). Far from defeatism, this is the victory of individualism, and, in this sense, Dorothea’s self-realization is exceptional among Eliot’s heroines, including Hetty, Maggie, Romola, and Gwendolen. As Bodenheimer comments, individualism may appear to be beaten but in its spirit never yields to the convincing picture of reality: “the story of a ‘wide’ idealistic mind coming into collision with the intractable prejudices around it and finding its heroism in bending to that narrowness in the name of common humanity.” 23 What makes Dorothea’s principle of social aid so characteristic of Romanticism is this victorious individualism. 24 Dorothea has made beautiful her own life first, Ladislaw’s next, and then the lives of others, gradually but steadfastly proceeding towards the unreachable goal of overall welfare. As Ruskin comments on the effect of creating beauty for moral progress, Dorothea, through her own choices and activities, has recreated herself as a secular saint for her neighbours: “If he produce or make good and beautiful things, they will re-create him” (XVII: 151). Escaping the grasp of Casaubon’s “The Dead Hand” and “The Shadow of Death,” Dorothea has attained self-realization and contentment by producing the light for better social relationships. The image of Dorothea’s “skirts of light” is repeatedly used when she works for the sake of others. The most apparent case is when she interviews Lydgate about his financial problem; it describes how her inner light (or her compassion) influences and encourages him even to change his view (or his light) on life. Different meanings of Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 18 “light” are deliberately used to create an image of moral progress. Her light of sympathy illuminates his self-contempt under the economic pressure and social animosity to make him realize it and to make him redeem his true self by the power of her belief in him: “The presence of a noble nature, generous in its wishes, ardent in its charity, changes the lights for us: we begin to see things again in their larger, quieter masses, and to believe that we too can be seen and judged in the wholeness of our character” (76: 624). Compared to the money offered by Bulstrode to protect his reputation (which would destroy Bulstrode himself as well as Lydgate), Dorothea’s economy proves the best use of money, following Ruskin’s principle of “social affection,” and changes the lights for him. As Lydgate comments that “her love might help a man more than her money” (76: 629), her principle of help follows that of Ruskin. It is no wonder that, while appraising her as if she were the Virgin Mary, Lydgate felt such social affection in her that she was “a fountain of friendship towards men” (76: 629). The image of light is also important in Ruskin’s Unto This Last. Using the metaphor of a veil to describe the blind self-righteousness of the middle class and their indifference towards the misery of labourers, he asks them to lift the veil and see the reality: 25 Raise the veil boldly; face the light; and if, as yet, the light of the eye can only be through tears, and the light of the body through sackcloth, go thou forth weeping, bearing precious seed, until the time come, and the kingdom, when Christ’s gift of bread, and bequest of peace, shall be “Unto this last as unto thee” (XVII: 114). Ruskin describes the misery of the working class at which one cannot look without being moved to tears in pity and sadness. This is the same kind of sadness that Dorothea feels Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 19 for the labourers in the village and for the tenants at Tipton. He argues that “the light of the eye” must be informed of the misery, and this external influence accordingly corresponds with the inner light, “the light of the body,” 26 or compassion, which induces one to redress oneself and to proceed diligently towards a better future of mutual welfare. The interview between Dorothea and Lydgate constitutes both an explanation and commentary on Ruskin’s doctrine. Although Ruskin describes an indefinite future in which everybody is given bliss according to promises of Christian teachings, his belief is at one with Dorothea’s regarding the gradual and limited improvement as immediately feasible. 27 It is significant that Eliot represents Dorothea as a successful practitioner of Ruskinian creed, not a failure. Ruskin’s description of an ideal philanthropist at the ending of Munera Pulveris can be rightly applied to Dorothea: “He hath dispersed abroad. He hath given to the poor. His righteousness remaineth for ever” (XVII: 283). When Dorothea ponders upon how to execute her financial plan, she sits with books in the library at Lowick: She sat down in the library before her particular little heap of books on political economy and kindred matters, out of which she was trying to get light as to the best way of spending money so as not to injure one’s neighbours, or—what comes to the same thing—so as to do them the most good (83: 657). Surely, she must have had Adam Smith and David Ricardo, but it is not so far-fetched to think that, in Eliot’s mind, John Ruskin’s Unto This Last was also among these books. She wishes “not to injure one’s neighbours” but “to do them the most good,” and the most appropriate theory of political economy would have come from Ruskin, who sought Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 20 an economic system based on “social affection” (XVII: 25), which brings happiness even “unto this last.” Acknowledgements For their helpful responses to earlier versions of this project (begun at an annual conference of the Kyushu English Literature Society), I would like to thank Dr. John Reed and Dr. Denis Jonnes. Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 21 Works Consulted Armstrong, Isobel. “‘Middlemarch’: A Note on George Eliot’s ‘Wisdom’.” Critical Essays on George Eliot. Ed. Barbara Hardy. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1970. Bodenheimer, Rosemarie. The Real Life of Mary Ann Evans. Cornell University Press, 1994. Carroll, David, ed. George Eliot: The Critical Heritage. London: Routledge, 1971. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Ed. H. J. Jackson. Oxford University Press, 1985. Coovadia, Imraan. “George Eliot’s Realism and Adam Smith.” Studies in English Literature, 1500-1900. 42:4 (2002): 819-835. Daiches, David. “George Eliot: Middlemarch.” George Eliot: Middlemarch. Ed. Patrick Swinden. London: Macmillan, 1972. Dramin, Edward. “‘A New Unfolding of Life’: Romanticism in the Late Novels of George Eliot.” Victorian Literature and Culture. 26 (1998): 273-302. Eliot, George. Middlemarch. Ed. David Carroll. Oxford University Press, 1986. ---. The George Eliot Letters. Vol. 2. Ed. Gordon S. Haight. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1954. ---. Selected Essays, Poems and Other Writings. Ed. A. S. Byatt and Nicholas Warren. Penguin, 1990. Hagan, John. “Middlemarch: Narrative Unity in the Story of Dorothea Brooke.” Nineteenth-century Fiction. 16 (1961):17-31. Hardy, Barbara. The Novels of George Eliot: A Study in Form. London: The Athlone Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 22 Press, 1959. Harvey, W. J. The Art of George Eliot. London: Chatto & Windus, 1963. Langland, Elizabeth. “Inventing Reality: The Ideological Commitments of George Eliot’s Middlemarch.” Narrative. 2:2 (1994): 87-111. Leavis, F. R. The Great Tradition. London: Chatto & Windus, 1948. Lerner, Laurence. “Dorothea and the Theresa-Complex.” George Eliot: Middlemarch. Ed. Patrick Swinden. London: Macmillan, 1972. Mann, Karen B. The Language That Makes George Eliot’s Fiction. The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1983. Mansell, Jr., Darrel. “Ruskin and George Eliot’s ‘Realism’.” Criticism: A Quarterly for Literature and the Arts. 7(1965): 203-16. Newton, K. M. George Eliot: Romantic Humanist. London: Macmillan, 1981. Rignall, John, ed. Oxford Companion to George Eliot. Oxford University Press, 2000. Ruskin, John. The Works of John Ruskin. 39 vols. Ed. E. T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn. London: George Allen, 1903-12. Shelley, Percy Bysshe. Shelley’s Poetry and Prose. Ed. Donald H. Reiman and Sharon B. Powers. New York: W. W. Norton, 1977. Stone, Donald D. The Romantic Impulse in Victorian Fiction. Harvard University Press, 1980. Swinden, Patrick, ed. George Eliot: Middlemarch. London: Macmillan, 1972 Wiesenfarth, Joseph, ed. George Eliot: A Writer’s Notebook, 1854-1879 and Uncollected Writings. Charlottesville: the University Press of Virginia, 1981. Wiesenfarth, Joseph. “Middlemarch: The Language of Art.” PMLA. 97(1982): 363-77. Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 23 1 George Eliot, The George Eliot Letters, ed. Gordon S. Haight, Vol. 2 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1954), 422-23. 2 On the contrary, she partly rejects Ruskin’s political economy as “stupendous specimens of arrogant absurdity” despite her recognition of his “magnificent passages.” Her ambivalent attitude seems to be due to her reverence for John Stuart Mill (Ruskin’s enemy on this matter) with whom Lewes was personally acquainted. 3 Attempting to become a poet like Byron, Ruskin left some poems in the style of Byron like “A Scythian Banquet Song,” “The Tears of Psammenitus,” Iteriad, Athens (unpublished), and Journal of a Tour through France to Chamouni, 1835. 4 All quotations from Ruskin’s writings are from The Works of John Ruskin, 39 vols., ed. E. T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn (London: George Allen, 1903-12) and are cited hereafter in the text in parentheses with volume (in Roman numerals) and page numbers. 5 Although there has been a general view that Eliot is a realist, Romanticism is often represented by her characters like Dorothea, Ladislaw, Felix Holt, and Daniel Deronda, as some critics have pointed out. In The Romantic Impulse in Victorian Fiction (Cambridge, NY: Harvard University Press, 1980), Donald D. Stone surveys Eliot’s development as a novelist in terms of her absorption of Romanticism: “Eliot’s celebration of the powers of the artistic imagination places her firmly in the Romantic tradition” (241). In “‘A New Unfolding of Life:’ Romanticism in the Late Novels of George Eliot,” Victorian Literature and Culture 26 (1998): 273-302, Edward Dramin similarly discusses her achievement as a kind of refinement of Romantic thought into something feasible: “when they offer practical guidance for facilitating human interaction and resolving immediate human dilemmas” (292). K. M. Newton, in George Eliot: Romantic Humanist (London: Macmillan, 1981), describes the development from the egotistic to the organicist Romantic, focusing on Romantic tendency in thoughts rather than specific influences. 6 Therefore, I object to the distinction Dramin and Newton make between two kinds of Romanticism in Eliot’s novels. Dramin negatively uses moral judgement about “unrealistic” Romanticism: “She is also critical of Romantics . . . when they are ‘unrealistic’ . . . On the other hand, Eliot is appreciative of other Romantics . . . when they are ‘realistic’” (Dramin 292). Newton contrasts the “organicist” with “egotistic” side of Romanticism, but, since Ladislaw partly represents the “egoistic” side and still leads Dorothea to her self-realization, this simple distinction does not seem to work in explaining their interactive development very well (see Newton 11). 7 W. J. Harvey, The Art of George Eliot (London: Chatto & Windus, 1963), 147-48. 8 In “George Eliot: Middlemarch,” in George Eliot: Middlemarch, ed. Patrick Swinden (London: Macmillan, 1972), David Daiches denies that Dorothea is “the moral centre of the novel” (117); that is, the moral standard Eliot tries to establish in the novel. Although Dorothea is idealistic, Eliot’s conclusion is apparent in the finale where it is people like Dorothea who can bring about social peace and goodness. F. R. Leavis attacks Eliot’s vague delineation of Dorothea as a failure when she is inspired and becomes self-important. Here, even if Leavis succeeds in arguing from the viewpoint of the author’s maturity, he seems to be reluctant to see the novel’s effect in illuminating the reality of human life through Dorothea’s idealistic eye. The theme of her aspiration is left undiscussed. See F. R. Leavis, The Great Tradition (London: Chatto & Windus, 1948). In “Dorothea and the Theresa- Complex,” in George Eliot: Middlemarch, ed. Patrick Swinden (London: Macmillan, 1972), Lawrence Lerner comments on this, defending Dorothea as the moral centre: “I think that Leavis is right and Daiches wrong about the balance of the book: Dorothea is its moral centre. But I think Leavis is wrong, and George Eliot right, about her soul-hunger” (234). This article puts Dorothea as the centre of the novel but does not deny Eliot’s achievement in the Lydgate part, which has been praised by many critics. 9 All quotations of Eliot’s Middlemarch are from Middlemarch, ed. David Carroll (Oxford University Press, 1986) and are cited in parentheses in the text with chapter and page numbers. 10 After her initiation into Italian art, Dorothea could not control her emotion within herself and against Casaubon, as the following passage shows: “She was humiliated to find herself a mere victim of feeling, as if she could know nothing except through that medium: all her strength was scattered in fits of agitation, of struggle, of despondency, and then again in visions of more complete renunciation, transforming all hard conditions into duty” (20: 163). 11 As Elizabeth Langland comments in “Inventing Reality: The Ideological Commitments of George Eliot’s Middlemarch,” Narrative 2 (1994), 87–111, their Romantic love is totally different from Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 24 others’ in the sense that it ignores the custom and common sense of Middlemarch: ‘the novel works to locate their passion outside of social convention and custom” (104). Ladislaw is needed to be introduced as the harbinger of the beyond for Dorothea, and their love, when it is consummated in marriage, has to be continued in London, outside Middlemarch. 12 Percy Bysshe Shelley, Shelley’s Poetry and Prose, ed. Donald H. Reiman and Sharon B. Powers (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977), 487-88. 13 George Eliot, Selected Essays, Poems and Other Writings, ed. A. S. Byatt and Nicholas Warren (Penguin, 1990), 368. 14 Ladislaw comments inwardly: “it would have been impossible for him ever to tell Dorothea that he had accepted it” (61: 510). 15 The narrator comments: “Our sense of duty must often wait for some work which shall take the place of dilettantism” (46: 377). It is interesting to compare Ladislaw’s development in profession with the vicissitudes of Ruskin’s criticism from aesthetics to socio-politics. Ruskin, who tried to find the true beauty in paintings and architecture as morality, finally shifted his interest in nurturing it by education and in society, which he proposed to improve not systematically but individually. 16 Yearning for Ladislaw, Dorothea makes his image out of bearing and caring for her own child. It is obvious that she thinks of him not as her superior but subordinate. The image is that of the women in The Princess, where Ida accepts the prince as an alternative of Lady Psyche’s child, a companion not commanding her. 17 George Eliot: Middlemarch, ed. Patrick Swinden (London: Macmillan, 1972), 82. 18 The money question always appears in Eliot’s novels, and the comparable case is Gwendolen’s in Daniel Deronda who had to accept Grandcourt’s proposal in order to save her mother and sisters from poverty and disgrace. In a harsher situation, Gwendolen’s judgement is realistic and inevitable, while Dorothea is allowed to behave according to her own principles. In Romola, Romola is ironically estranged from Tito because of his avidity for wealth and success. 19 It is significant that Cervantes composed the novel while St. Theresa was active, and that St. Theresa of Avila, who loved and wrote stories of chivalry for fun before becoming a nun, behaved bravely and recklessly when establishing monasteries. 20 See John Ruskin’s letter to Charles Eliot Norton, 9 August 1870 (XXXVII: 17). 21 Ruskin: The Critical Heritage, ed. J. L. Bradley (London: Routledge, 1984), 274. 22 “That your neighbour should, or should not, remain content with his position, is not your business; but it is very much your business to remain content with your own” (XVII: 112). 23 Rosemarie Bodenheimer, The Real Life of Mary Ann Evans (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1994), 67. 24 In terms of cause and effect, Barbara Hardy’s view is right in describing Dorothea’s charity as insignificant in The Novels of George Eliot: A Study in Form (London: Athlone Press, 1959): “Her generous warmth has no more than a brief effect on the others, and they go on in their chill, not radically changed . . . but many of her actions are not idealized but shown as decidedly unspectacular. It is a novel where there are no moral miracles” (101). But it is important to remember that Dorothea’s actions help to save people around her from their crises, regardless of their lives after them. And it is the moment of salvation to which they feel Dorothea most contributes. It is admitted, as Stone says, that this is the only triumph in the novel: “But it is precisely toward this triumph of their Romanticism that Middlemarch tends: Dorothea’s and Will’s victory is all the more notable in the context of a novel in which all forms of delusions of grandeur . . . are scotched” (Stone 235). However, in my opinion, their delusions are necessary steps for their achievement and, without them, another step for practical reformation is 25 The image of the veil not only comes from biblical references but also reminds us of Shelley’s sonnet, “Lift not the painted veil,” from which George Eliot took the title and major image for her middle-length story, “The Lifted Veil.” 26 Ruskin explains this inner light as “the spiritual sun” (XXVIII: 614) in Letter LXVI in Fors Clavigera: “that you cannot love the real sun, that is to say physical light and colour, rightly, unless you love the spiritual sun, that is to say justice and truth, rightly” (XXVIII: 614). 27 In “Middlemarch: Narrative Unity in the Story of Dorothea Brooke,” Nineteenth-Century Fiction 16 (1961): 17-31, John Hagan points out that Dorothea’s practical thinking is flexible: “In short, though Dorothea continues to long for far off objects and larger distant goals (one of her projects is a grandiose land reclamation scheme curiously reminiscent of Ruskin’s Guild of St. George), she is Dorothea Brooke’s Political Economy: Romanticism and the Influence of John Ruskin on George Eliot’s Middlemarch 25 now also thinking practically in terms of known facts. In telling Mr. Brooke that ‘I think we have no right to come forward and urge wider changes for good until we have tried to alter the evils which lie under our hands’ (Chapter XXXIX), she is proving that she has learned to obey the Carlylean gospel of ‘doing the duty that lies nearest’” (28-29). 
work_wiwbzz2h5bbndga4aiacxqr3za	----	Kirja-arvosteluita 69 Matkailututkimus 10: 2, 69–71 (2014) ©Suomen matkailututkimuksen seura Kirja-arvosteluita Travel Changes Thought and Men – A Fresh Perspective on the Travels of a Literary Icon Koch, Daniel (2012). Ralph Waldo Emerson in Europe. Class, Race and Revolution in the Making of an American Thinker. London, I. B. Tauris & Co Ltd. Lars Ekström European and World History University of Turku Daniel Koch successfully attempts to shed light on an often forgotten part of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s life. Emerson was a highly influential author and public speaker, and he has even been called the first American writer. The founding member of the Transcendentalist movement made three trips to Europe during his lifetime. The first trip in 1832–33 took him to Malta, Sicily, Italy, Switzerland, France and Britain. The second journey, studied here by the author, was a lecture and leisure tour in Britain with less than a month spent in the revolutionary Paris of 1848. The third and last visit was made after Emerson’s house burned down in 1872, and included England, France, Sicily and Egypt. During Emerson’s first tour he was an unknown young American with a desire to meet great writers of the time. His last trip has not received much attention as Emerson was already old, had problems with his memory, and did not produce any significant works during or after it. Koch is fully concentrating on the second tour. He studies in detail Emerson’s journals, letters and notebooks from the time in England and Paris. Another perspec- tive is gained by the study of how Emerson was received in England. For this pur- pose the author has studied the newspapers that carried stories of the lecture tour, going all the way to describing the political view and background of some of the papers in question. The last part of the book is dedicated to the legacy or the effect of Emerson’s European experience. The author, in facing a vast amount of sources, has managed to keep the material somewhat in order. Still, he has not always been able to avoid the factor best descri- bed by the Emerson scholar Ronald A. Bosco quoting the playwright Arthur Miller: Matkailututkimus 2 (2014)70 “We find what we seek.” Koch’s knowledge of the subject matter and the history of England of 1848 have come to good use when setting up his interpretation of events and Emerson’s reaction to them. Use of secondary sources is always problematic when studying Emerson. The hundreds of books and thousands of articles are not easy to master. The author has here taken some unprejudiced steps by referring to some previously almost unreferenced sources. However, the main part of the text is still leaning on the findings of such known Emerson experts as Len Gougeon, Lawrence Buell, Robert E. Burkholder, Joel Myerson, and Larry Reynolds. Another interesting feature is the re-acceptance of Kenneth Walter Cameron and Townsend Scudder III, and their fundamental research into the history of Emerson. Koch’s pri- mary printed sources are relevant and help make his case of Emerson’s mind changes and hesitations. Still, e.g. the use of James Elliot Cabot’s A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson from 1887, in cases where much more relevant and recent sources are avai- lable to illustrate points made, is puzzling. Filling a gap in Emerson research is Koch’s main goal. He declares that “This book aims to provide for the first time a satisfying explanation of how Emerson became both a literary phenomenon in Britain and Europe, and of how his experiences there contributed to the making of a celebrated abolitionist who inspired countless thou- sands of Americans in the struggle against slavery.” The explanation of becoming a literary phenomenon in Britain is clear, logical and thorough, including the piracy in printing, literary agents, and the “thirst” for Emerson’s works. However “Europe” is used in a bloated sense as very little is told about events outside of Britain and France. The same is true about the title of the book; “Ralph Waldo Emerson in Britain and France for the second time” would be a more honest but less saleable heading. The subtitle’s word “making” gives an idea of a thinker that is coming out with his most remarkable work after visiting Europe. However, Emerson had already written his main work Nature (1836), given the ora- tion called American Scholar (1837), and published his first series of essays (1841) that included Self-Reliance and other celebrated pieces. Traveling in Europe changed Emerson’s views on several subjects but he was definitely already an American Thin- ker before he arrived in Liverpool in 1847. The book’s structure is peculiar. Koch justifies well the use of chronology as the basis of his work. Then he goes on to break it by having a chapter on the British reaction to the lecture tour before the chapter that actually describes the tour. These faults, or interesting choices, do not overshadow the important undertaking that Koch has initiated: studying the effects European tours had on Emerson and his writing and public speaking. Koch does not settle for finding bits of Emerson text here and there to support a pre-existing theory of Emerson’s visit (as some of earlier scholars have done), but painstakingly rakes through all relevant sources to show a very diverse path of thought Emerson took across turbulent Britain and France. In doing so, Koch proves that travel changes thought. Kirja-arvosteluita 71 References Bosco, Ronald A. (2000). We Find What We Seek: Emerson and His Biographers. –In, Myerson, Joel, ed. A Historical Guide to Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York. Buell, Lawrence (2003). Emerson. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Burkholder, Robert E. (1982). The Contemporary Reception of English Traits. –In, Myerson, Joel, ed. Emerson Centenary Essays. Carbondale, Ill. Cabot, James Elliot (1888). A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Volume I and II. Boston. Cameron, Kenneth Walter (1999). Emerson and Thoreau in Europe. The Transcendental Influence. Hartford. Gougeon, Len (c1995). Historical Background. – In, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson’s Antislavery Writings. Ed. Len Gougeon and Joel Myerson. New Haven. Reynolds, Larry J. (1988). European Revolutions and the American Renaissance. New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press. Richardson, Robert D. (1995). Emerson: The Mind on Fire. A Biography. University of California: Berkeley. Rusk, Ralph L. (1949). The Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson. New York. Scudder, Townsend III (1936). The Lonely Wayfaring Man: Emerson and Some Englishmen. London. 
work_wod6qov62nd7bcbexsiup2zcki	----	Even the Rain: A Confluence of Cinematic and Historical Temporalities Fabrizio Cilento Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies, Volume 16, 2012, pp. 245-258 (Article) Published by University of Arizona DOI: 10.1353/hcs.2012.0035 For additional information about this article Access provided by University of Washington @ Seattle (19 Oct 2013 16:47 GMT) http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/hcs/summary/v016/16.cilento.html http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/hcs/summary/v016/16.cilento.html Even the Rain (Icíar Bollaín, 2010) takes a metacin-ematic approach to the story of a Mexican film crew in Bolivia shooting an historic drama on Christopher Columbus’s conquest. With the water rights riots in Bolivia as a background, Bollaín uses different cinematic styles to establish disturbing parallels between old European im- perialism, the recent waves of corporate exploitation, and on the individual scale, the exploitation of Bolivian actors for the benefit of the global film industry. The film within a film device furnishes some insights on the dynamics and pressures that crews face when developing a socially engaged film. Bollaín warns that these productions can fall into a colonialist dynamic by reproducing the imbalances between the ‘visible’ countries in the global film market, and ‘invisible’ countries whose native actors and visually appealing locations are exploited. Even the Rain blends several cinematic tenden- cies, which at times clash to create a temporal short circuit. One is the visually stunning historic drama reminiscent of Hollywood epics. Another is the documentary-style shooting of Cochabamba’s urban guerrilla crisis, in which the heritage of the 1960s new waves of Latin American cinema clearly emerges. The sequences showing the film crew shooting the historic drama on Columbus at times clash with the other temporalities, and these moments are effective in reinforcing the claim that cinema should maintain a dual role of witness Fabrizio Cilento is Assis- tant Professor of Film and Digital Media at Messiah College (PA). His scholarship focuses on films whose main characteristic lies in recon- structing historical events, mainly political crises and conspiracies. Cilento received his PhD in Comparative Lit- erature from the University of Washington in 2010. His recent article “Saviano, Gar- rone, Gomorrah: Neorealism and Noir in the Land of the Camorra” appeared in the Global Noir issue of Fast Capitalism. Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies Volume 16, 2012 Even the Rain: A Confluence of Cinematic and Historical Temporalities 246 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies on contemporary abuses and preservation of memory. The main characters of Even the Rain, director Sebastián and executive producer Costa, find the production of their film put into question with the abrupt intrusion of anti-government protests in Cochabamba in 2000 following the sale of Bolivia’s water rights to a private multinational consortium. As Sebastián and Costa work at re-enacting the Spanish imperialistic ideals of Columbus’s age, they are chal- lenged by the native actor-activist Daniel (Juan Carlos Aduviri) to wrestle with the parallels between their film and the current water issues faced by the Bolivian people. While Sebastián refuses to take action, Costa will overcome his initial cynicism and understand that in the new millennium, water is the new gold. Differently from the documentaries Blue Gold: World Water Wars (Sam Bozzo, 2008), The Corporation (Jennifer Abbott and Mark Achbar, 2003), and even the animation Abuela Grillo (De- nis Chapon, 2009), Bollaín’s approach to the subject of water rights refrains from pedagogic approaches in favor of a more poetic and evocative narrative. Even the Rain does put in evidence that in order for water to remain a public trust, an active lo- cal government will have to collaborate with local citizens. However, this is suggested via an imaginative rather than a prescriptive attitude, using powerful storytelling and the application of conceptual histories and temporalities. Bollaín’s film emphasizes the conti- nuity of colonialism in its different forms throughout the centuries. She does this while engaging with the changing styles of regional Latin American cinema over dif- ferent periods. In other words, the history of colonialism and the history of Latin American cinema are not separate histories, but together form an articulated critique of colonialism, made possible thanks to the application of different stylistic approaches to the cinematic medium. The metacin- ematic narrative and the Cochabamba riot sequences evoke the season of sociopolitical documentaries of the 1960s and 1970s, characterized by the use of location shoot- ings, a mix of professional and non-profes- sional actors, natural lighting, hand held cameras, and a degree of improvisation in the dialogues. The intimate quality of some sequences in Even the Rain, the presence of actor Gael García Bernal, the psychological development, and the character-driven plot suggest a link to the New Waves of Latin American Cinema of the 1990s, which typi- cally offer emotionally charged narratives in realistic settings (Schroeder Rodríguez 33). The multi-layered hybrid style of Even the Rain brings Latin American Cinema into the new millennium, thanks to its extreme self-reflexivity. I explore how such self-awareness is functional for Even the Rain to locate itself ideologically in antith- esis to the frozen nostalgia of Hollywood films depicting the conquest of the Ameri- cas, particularly those made for the 500th anniversary of Columbus’s arrival. Instead, Bollaín’s rich and textured aesthetic style reflects her unique perspective as a Span- ish director working on an international co-production in Bolivia. While the film addresses the contemporary issues of the role of the local government in the Bolivian crisis, issues of infrastructure, and current assumptions about what is ethical regarding access to water, the innovative aspect of the film is in Bollaín’s vision of Latin American histories (the late 15th and early 16th cen- tury as well as the recent guerra del agua) in its evocation of Friedrich Nietzsche’s “eternal return” and the anguishing scenario a demon presents to humanity: Fabrizio Cilento 247 This life as you now live it and have lived it, you will have to live once more and innumerable times more; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain, every joy and every thought and sigh and everything unutterably small or great in your life will have to return to you…. The eternal hourglass of existence is turned upside down again and again, and you with it, speck of dust! (273-74). Nietzsche’s notion of history assumes considerable importance in Bollaín’s film. Even the Rain considers the cyclical recur- rence of exploitation in the poorest Latin American nations, from colonialism to the more sophisticated neocolonialism of late capitalism; represented not only by multina- tional corporations but also in international film productions. The film’s characters are entrapped in a Nietzschean dimension for most of the film, doomed to the eternal failure of something that will always remain the same and will never change. However, if the film faces absolute nihilism, it ultimately does not fall into it. As mentioned above, Costa does not stoically accept yet another cycle of colonial invasion but begins to comprehend the native’s point of view. Even the Rain includes some visual samplings of a recent historical event, the Cochabamba riots, that needs to be re- peated, retold, and reframed in an endless hermeneutic process over a decade later, and that in turn evokes the specter of Colum- bus in an endless game of mirrors. When colonialism is replayed via the Cochabamba affair, this implies a perspective from which historical events appear without the mitigat- ing circumstances of their transitory nature. If the classic cinematic time of a historic drama can be geometrically imagined as a straight line composed of scenes chrono- logically progressing toward a climax, the narrative time of Even the Rain is circular— the story of colonialism loops like a snake devouring its own tail/tale. Even the Rain’s addictive promise is that it may reveal the motivations and the causes of colonialism, which generates the desire to re-watch and analyze the film, although the answer will always remain beyond it. Even the Rain’s complex narrative structure is based on several different lay- ers that relay the main events of the film (Santaolalla 215). Here, I construct upon those layers, moving from those that are closer to the actual Cochabamba events that form the film’s true historical background, to the fictional ones. Bollaín distinguishes between what events count as historical and truthful, and which are imaginary and mythical, or just erroneous accounts. However, is important to keep in mind that each category is not to be considered a separate box. Rather, “history is an open ended process rather than a closed science and a fatality” (White xiiii). In Even the Rain, the temporalities are deeply porous. I pay particular attention to the confluence of temporalities; those moments in which they overlap, creating short circuits through which the film most effectively faces the questions related to colonialism (what went wrong) and neocolonialism (what is wrong). The Use of TV and Radio Newsreel Even the Rain incorporates actual television footage and radio newsreel of the Coch- abamba riots in several scenes where the di- rector and producer watch and comment on the news. These raw documents establish the simultaneity between the narrative of the crew shooting the Columbus film and the 248 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies Cochabamba riots, setting the present tense of Even the Rain around the year 2000. As the film’s characters learn about the events taking place through the actual footage, the film’s international audiences may also learn about the Bolivian water crisis at the turn of the millennium. Several years ago Bolivia sold its water system and rights to Bechtel’s subsidy Aguas de Tunari, a consortium of corporations led by International Water Limited, which resulted in a 300% rise in consumer charges. The tariffs were devastating to the people of Cochabamba, where the minimum wage was less than US $100 per month. Many people found themselves spending one-third of their income on water. Popular resistance was harsh in Cochabamba, and the guerra del agua broke out in one of the country’s largest cities, lasting for several months.1 Bolivia faced the paradox of having its people prohibited from collecting their own water (inspiration for the title of Bollaín’s film), while its politicians used the military and police forces to protect the interests of foreign investors. Water privatization came to Bolivia as a theory, on the wings of foreign coercion. The World Bank officials who pushed the plan to bring in multinational corporations proclaim that it would deliver three things that impoverished countries desperately needed—strong managers, skilled technical experts, and investment in expansion service…In Cochabamba, however, the theory didn’t work out quite the way its proponents said it would. (Shultz and Draper 39-40) During the riots, more than a hundred people were injured, many were detained, and a teenager died after being shot by the Army.2 In the end, the government reversed the privatization process and forced Bechtel out of the country. It is significant that Sebastián and Costa learn about these dramatic events via the media rather than through the locals with whom they are working. In effect, the television and radio sequences establish Sebastián and Costa as outside observers of the crisis. Their immediate concern is solely about their ability to continue shooting the film. Their lead actor, Daniel, is actively in- volved in the riots, and they worry about the possibility of his being arrested or injured by the police, as it would cause delays in their production timeline. Behind the Scenes of the Historic Columbus Drama This subplot focuses on the apparently minor character of María (Cassandra Ciangherotti), a filmmaker whose task is to shoot a “making of ” documentary about the historic Columbus drama. However, María soon reveals herself to be more perceptive than Sebastián and Costa, feeling an instinc- tive empathy toward the exploited Boliv- ians. Her character problematizes the issue of where to look. Should she focus on the film’s representation of the colonialist past and furnish insights about the upcoming cinematic work whose goal is to expose the brutality of the conquest of the Americas, which involved the massacre of Native Americans in the search for gold and other natural resources? Or rather, should she turn her lightweight digital camera toward the popular rebellion against the privatiza- tion of water in Cochabamba, displaying her engagement in the fashion of Latin American documentaries such as Battle of Chile (Patricio Guzmán, 1975-1979), and Fabrizio Cilento 249 in doing so create an “alliance between cul- tural politics and social history” (Pick 4)?3 María’s sequences are easy to distinguish from the rest of Even the Rain, since images produced by her digital camera are grainy, occasionally appearing in black and white. This seems to suggest that the lightweight, economical digital technology may revitalize the 1960s and 1970s idea of cinema as an instrument of critical and ideological aware- ness. Again, her impulse to shoot footage of the guerra del agua makes the point that it is not enough make a film denouncing the effects of colonialism in the distant past, but to also recognize that the Cochabamba riots are a repetition of that very history that has been continuing for centuries. The behind-the-scene sections of Even the Rain reveal Bollaín’s familiarity with Latin American cinematic histories. In the 1960s and 1970s Latin American directors expressed the need for a cultural decolonization both from Hollywood im- perialism (First Cinema) and European auteurist cinema (Second Cinema). In or- der to understand how Even the Rain deals with this heritage, it is worth mentioning two important manifestos. In “Towards a Third Cinema” (1971) directors Fernando Solanas and Octavio Getino stress the need for cinema to “examine the causes, to inves- tigate the ways of organizing and arming for the change,” also recognizing that “our time is one of hypothesis rather than of thesis” (56-57). This statement applies to Bollaín’s approach to issues of gold, water, and underdevelopment. There is no doubt that Even the Rain is against colonialism and neo-colonialism, thus in general agree- ment with these manifestos. However, the film also intends to generate self-awareness on how these histories have been mediated rather than to impose a political thesis or solution. Bollaín is concerned with trying to find a cinematic rhetoric capable of repre- senting different and even opposing political contexts, not as a priori principles but as a dialogical exchange. In doing so, through the use of non-chronological and elliptical temporalities, she pragmatically combines militant documentary footage with global images of television in order to deliver her anti-colonialist argument through an in- novative aesthetic. In “For an Imperfect Cinema” (1969) Cuban director Julio García Espinosa declares that ideas of quality have been contaminated by Europeanized values and that questions of taste need to be reexam- ined: “The only thing Imperfect Cinema is interested in is how an artist responds to the following question: what are you do- ing in order to overcome the barrier of the ‘cultured’ elite audience which up to now has conditioned the form of your work?” (82). Even the Rain is a moral tale about the divisions within the region and between Latin America and the Iberian Peninsula, and how to possibly overcome them. When it comes to the divisions within the region, is worth remembering that the film opens with an endless line of Bolivian actors and technicians willing to wait for hours in or- der to audition for a Mexican director. In recent years Mexico has established itself as a source of contemporary art films and as a major market for distributors. In contrast, Bolivia never had a film industry and only produces a few sporadic films every year, most of them shot with low budgets. Only in the last two decades has there been a modest but significant professionalization of the industry, possible thanks to the declin- ing costs of digital technology (Crespo).4 Thus, from a Bolivian point of view, the flourishing Mexican film industry, together with that of Argentina and Brazil, comprises 250 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies a new sort of elite. The Bolivian actors waiting for a Mexican director is a refer- ence to the fact that some Bolivian movies, especially Juan Carlos Valdivia’s films, have relied heavily on Mexican funding and they typically have Mexican actors as part of the conditions for funding. Bollaín illuminates the gap in understanding on the part of the Spanish and Mexicans regarding other Latin American cultures. For example, when Costa and Sebastián arrive in Cochabamba, María interviews them and a revealing dia- logue takes place about the film’s historical accuracy, and its relative insignificance to the producer when it comes to the use of indigenous people in the film. M: We’re in Bolivia, it doesn’t make much sense. 7,500 feet above sea level, surrounded by mountains, and thousands of miles from the Caribbean. S: Well, Costa thinks Columbus lan- ded by parachute. C: Costa knows this place is full of starving Indians, and this means thousands of extras. None of that digital shit. I want scale, all the money up on the screen. S: So sloppy! Have you seen their faces? They’re Quechua. C: So? S: They’re from the Andes! What’s Columbus doing with Indians from the Andes? C: Look, they’re Indians. That’s what you wanted? S: No, no… C: Give me a fucking break, they’re all the same. S: [Gesture for María to stop her filming] C: You can negotiate things here. Hotels, transport, catering… whatever. M: So, it’s about money. S: Yes, it’s always money, always. In this case very little money, right? Right, you miserable cheapskate? C: If we’d filmed in English, we’d have double the money, and double the audience. Almost had the deal done till you fucked it up. S: Because Spaniards speak Spanish. What if we’d done it in English? C: We’d been fucking smart. M: So, the Spaniards speak Spanish, and the Tainos that Columbus found speak Quechua? María’s task in creating the behind the scenes documentary is to implicitly request that subjects break from self-consciousness when the digital camera is pointed at them, not worrying about how they come across. Instead, both Costa and Sebastián are uneasy when challenged by her questions. Although they are professionals in the visual culture realm, in terms of appearing on cam- era they are rank amateurs. In this and other sequences there is an evident lack of com- plicity with María, and throughout Even the Rain she is often censored and interrupted by her colleagues. When María points out how Sebastián is imposing an artificially constructed identity on the Indians, while maintaining cultural identity by shooting the film in Spanish, she implicates him of imposing a white view of Latin America on the film. Furthermore, Costa’s views were completely removed from a cultural sensibility, as he wanted to shoot the film in English, since his interests lie solely on the financial prospects of the film. These dynamics are not unusual, and after Espinosa’s essay, when an auteur such as Bollaín traverses the familiar territory of colonialism, one may question why Euro- peans, rather than Latin Americans, should make yet another film on colonialism. Fabrizio Cilento 251 There is no doubt that co-productions can easily become sites of cultural misunder- standings and generalizations rather than ethnographic expeditions of discovery. Cinematographies from different continents have at times successfully appropriated each other’s languages for their own political and economic purposes. As Mike Wayne remarks in Political Film: “We can have First and Second Cinema in the Third World and Third Cinema in the First World” (6).5 Although production practices and textual strategies vary, the divisions within the three cinemas have historically been porous, and this process of hybridization accelerated after 1989. Due to the effects of a global- ized economy, the transnationalization of culture, and political exchanges, Spanish and Portuguese producers and filmmakers often cross the Atlantic, at times recasting the tradition of Third Cinema. Even the Rain itself is a co-production of Spain, France and Mexico that establishes both a new cultural awareness and artistic standards. Its strength is in constantly interrogating how the global-local relationship is conditioning the outcome and the flow of ideas and how are the new modes of production are trans- forming national and regional subjectivities (Alvaray 55-56).6 Bollaín seems convinced that it is not necessary that only a person who belongs to a specific ethnic group can deliver a statement about that group’s his- tory and struggle. A movie is not solely an expression of the director, but inevitably in- volves the contribution of multiple figures. In this sense, María is a key figure because she constantly interrupts our identification process and, more importantly, begins to locate her gaze on the local Bolivians. Having said this, it is easier to un- derstand the quasi-obsessive self-reflexivity that characterizes Even the Rain, a pris- matic aesthetic in which the point of view and the values of Sebastián and Costa are questioned by and coexist with that of a fledgling digital documentarian. Bollaín’s work is not a straightforward defense of indigenous cultures, but a film about how arduous is to articulate such a defense. Her first demand is that Even the Rain simulta- neously keeps track of the local and global contexts, of the underground relationships that connect the different and multiply im- plicated geographical cultures. The result of this imaginary project is the rupture of the stark divisions between the three cinemas, toward a hybridized and nomadic aesthetic that may better fit both the intellectual and practical needs of the post-globalization era. The Film Crew Shooting the Historic Drama on Columbus The casting of Bernal in the role of Sebas- tián problematizes his stardom in the film as an ambitious director so absorbed by his cinematic masterpiece that he becomes blind to the second invasion of globaliza- tion that is happening in front of his eyes. Since the early 2000s Bernal has become the face of the so-called New Latin American Cinema thanks to works such as Y tu mamá también (Alfonso Cuarón, 2001), Amores Perros (Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2001) and The Crime of Father Amaro (Carlos Carrera, 2002). He also famously played a young Ernesto Che Guevara in The Motor- cycle Diaries (2004). At the same time, he appeared in Nike Football: Write the Future (Alejandro Gonzáles Iñárritu, 2010) and the Levi’s commercial French Dictionary (Ivan Zacharias, 2003). While in his youth he often criticized the US film industry for stereotyping Latin American characters, he 252 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies has recently appeared in Hollywood roman- tic comedies such as Letters to Juliet (Gary Winick, 2010) and A Little Bit of Heaven (Nicole Kassell, 2011), The cultural politics of Bernal’s stardom, in which idealism, rebellion and commerce coexist, brings to mind Jean-Luc Godard’s formula “children of Marx and Coca Cola” (Masculin, feminin, 1966). This contradiction emerges in the film with an exchange Sebastián has with the prefect of Cochambaba, who has deals in place with the multinational capital: P: In this globalized world the Indians burn water bills and hurl rocks at the police. It’s the cult of victim versus modernity. S: I don’t want to be rude but if some one earns two dollars a day, he can’t pay a 300% increase in the price of water. At least that’s what I am told. P: How curious…that’s what I’m told you pay the extras. S: Yes, but we are on a very tight budget. P: Aren’t we all? The socially engaged Sebastián is entangled at the moment in which he agrees to work for the global industry. He is being pres- sured by his producers to adhere to the bud- get, requiring him to justify his exploitation of the local actors by rationalizing that it is for a noble cause, that is, to denounce old colonialism. Some critics such as Stephen Holden and Roger Ebert have insinuated that Bol- laín herself may have underpaid her own extras. “The movie is brave to raise the questions it does, although at the end I looked in vain for a credit saying, ‘No ex- tras were underpaid in the making of this film’” (Ebert). “Consciously or not, Even the Rain risks subverting its own good will. You can’t help but wonder to what degree its makers exploited the extras recruited to play 16th-century Indians. Inevitably Even the Rain is trapped inside its own hall of mirrors” (Holden). Such remarks beg the question of whether the metacinematic strategy of showing a crew shooting a film on Columbus, which brings within itself a high degree of self-reflexivity, may be suf- ficient to justify the ethics of the project. Or is Even the Rain entangled in the spiral of exploitation that it describes, as Ebert and Holden suggest? It would be unfair not to recognize that Bollaín is one of the few di- rectors to drop the guise of innocence and to confront us with the issue of the cinematic exploitation of regional and international production in Latin American countries. These are too often overlooked in the name of the contents movies intend to deliver. The debate reminds me of the remarks Jean Bau- drillard made in Simulacra and Simulations regarding Francis Ford Coppola’s anti-war colossal Apocalypse Now (1979), shot in the Philippines for its access to military equip- ment and cheap labor: Coppola does nothing but that: test cinema’s power of intervention, test the impact of a cinema that has become an immensurable machinery of special effects. In this sense, his film is really the extension of war through other means, the pinnacle of this failed war, and its apotheosis. The war became the film, the film becomes the war, and the two are jointed into their common hemor- rhage into technology (59). Paraphrasing Baudrillard, a pessimist may say that Bollaín points out that colonialism and neocolonialism became the object of numerous Latin American films, and that Fabrizio Cilento 253 in turn Latin American films contribute to neocolonial exploitation. However, to have effectively emphasized this dynamic is not a small achievement, especially because in doing so, Bollaín problematizes the triumphalist pan-Latin American rhetoric, whose climax, cinematically speaking, was the famous farewell monologue to Peru delivered by Bernal as Che Guevara in Mo- torcycle Diaries: We believe that...the division of America into unstable and illusory nations is a complete fiction. We are one single mestizo race from Mexico to the Magellan Straits. And so, in an attempt to free ourselves from narrow-minded provincialism, I propose a toast to Peru and to a United America. At the end of Even the Rain this idea is not denied, but reaffirmed. However, while the Mexican Sebastián remains self-absorbed, the Spanish producer Costa has a crisis of conscience and risks his own life in order to save the young daughter of the native actor Daniel. In order to express his gratitude, Daniel gives him a present, and in the final moment of the film we find out that it was a little ampulla of water, the most precious thing in Bolivia. So, the brotherhood and mutual understanding evoked by Guevara and the spirit of the speech quoted above is ultimately reinforced in this episode of transcontinental understanding. Bollaín suggests that without self-consciousness no ethical affirmation is possible.7 However, this understanding as presented in the film may be too simplistic. Costa’s change of heart happens abruptly and unexpectedly at the end of the film, and we now have a narrative of the natives reliant upon a Eu- ropean savior’s intervention to save them. Until his change of heart, Costa is the most unforgiving and exploitative character, and one would expect another, more sympa- thetic member of the crew such as María or Sebastaín to be the one to step in and help. This apparently happy ending may be an- other choice that Bollaín made to imply the continuity of colonialism through Costa. Scenes from the Historic Drama on Columbus The most visually appealing parts of the film portray the beautiful Bolivian land- scapes as the setting for the first encounter between Columbus and the Native Ameri- cans. The Columbus film in Even the Rain is a soaring epic period film that visually resembles a Hollywood style production, while its contents are deeply anti-colonialist. Around the time of the 500th anniversary of Columbus’s arrival, Hollywood directors revisited episodes of the colonialist history, exploring the first wave of globalization depicting the exploitation of American soil and the massacre of its natives (Haddu, 157). These works were typically character- ized by huge sets, casts of thousands and spectacular battle scenes, such as in Ridley Scott’s 1492: Conquest of Paradise (1992), Christopher Columbus: The Discovery (John Glen, 1992), and Michael Mann’s The Last of the Mohicans (1992), followed by the more recent and visionary work of Ter- rence Malick in The New World (2005). In these works, it is implied that directors are dealing with an event from the distant past that is completely removed from the contemporary socio-political situation. In this sense, despite the alleged realism, even the most brutal sequences of torture, rape and mass murders are just a sad spectacle, and figures such as Columbus become an 254 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies animation coming from the pages of a dusty history book, and thus dead in advance.8 In the polished images of Hollywood films, dramatic episodes of European colonialism assume an aura of nostalgia. This nostalgic feeling goes along with Malick’s lament for the loss of the noble savage in The New World, in which America’s colonial history frames the Pocahontas-John Smith story. Interior monologues and an emphasis on animals and nature support the belief in a golden age in which natives were living according to benign values.9 The film poses questions such as: why are we born into the world and part of the world, while at the same time feeling that we have been exiled from it? Why doesn’t the world’s beauty prevent us from suffering? The first to idealize the simple life of the indigenous Americans is the Dominican friar Bartolomé de las Casas in his Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies (1552), in which he praises their simple manners and inability to tell a lie. In Even the Rain, Bollaín creates a distancing effect when she includes the Dominican friar’s character in the Columbus film, reciting his lines at a dinner for the crew in which everyone is drunk. These lines denouncing the suffering of the indigenous people are recited mechanically, and emptied of their original meaning. In effect, the crew cannot see the continuity of colonialism, and the injustices they depict in their own movie are still occurring in different forms even as they enjoy their dinner. This sequence is an example of how Bollaín creates a clash be- tween the two main temporalities of the film, distant past and present, in order to construct the argument that it is not enough to film Columbus in a negative light in antithesis to Hollywood, but it is important to make the connection that the history of colonialism continues today. Sebastián, while fully com- mitted to showing the devastating effects of colonialism as past history, closes his eye to its manifestation in the present, as toward the end of the film he pleads with Costa to move the production to a safer location away from the riots: “This confrontation will end and it will be forgotten. But our film is go- ing to last forever.” Even the Rain does not juxtapose good and evil in a Manichean way, rather it blends and confuses them, requiring an active spectatorship that asks audiences to arrive at their own position on the morality of the crew. The historic drama sequences of Even the Rain are indebted, visually speaking, not only to the Hollywood films on colonialism mentioned above, but also to the ground- breaking The Mission (Roland Joffé, 1986) and El Dorado (Carlos Saura, 1988) and La otra conquista (Salvador Carrasco, 1998). The postcolonial position of the latter films is closer to that of Bollaín, since they engage with critique of dominant historical repre- sentation and reestablish a sense of Latin American identity on screen. In addition, in several sequences they portray the ways European conquerors misbehaved. However, the film within the film expedient allows Bol- laín to unapologetically display the horrors of colonialism with an extreme self-awareness, giving her film the additional value of linking old colonialism to the present. The ethical tension of Even the Rain cli- maxes when the events portrayed in the his- toric drama sequences are shocking enough to the native non-professional actresses that they refuse to reenact them for Sebastián. In particular, they refuse to drown their babies, even if they are just dolls, since to them it is an act too brutal to be represented at all. The Bolivian women refuse to use water as an agent of death and as such form a resistance to the director’s will. In a parallel scene earlier in the film, there is a group of women fight- ing Bechtel employees and the local police Fabrizio Cilento 255 force against the appropriation of a well they had dug themselves, claiming they needed to do so in order for their children to drink. There is a clear association here between the colonialist and neo-colonialist temporalities and so the fictional drama generates a link between the film industry and corporate capitalism. While the ambitious Sebastián wishes to portray an episode of children’s mass murder in the name of historical ac- curacy, Bechtel puts children’s lives at risk via the mismanagement of a natural resource. Bollaín shows that women are the new source of cheap labor and exploitation by multinational corporations expanding in developing countries. At the same time, the Columbus film being an international co- production, and thus part of a corporate cul- ture, there is a risk that educated postcolonial directors such as Sebastián began speaking instead of disempowered indigenous groups. In turn, Bollaín is skeptical of any attempt (including her own) to portray the lives of the Bolivian women. Thus, she located the agency of change in the insurgent women themselves rather than in the engagement of non-native authoritative directors. The drowning sequence also serves to raise some questions related to the anti-colonialist films of which Even the Rain itself is an integral part. How far can an anti-colonialist film go with the violent exploitation of native bodies before becoming a cinematic spectacle itself? Has there been an escalation of violence in the depiction of colonialism? How strictly necessary is the representation of violence and how authentic are the motivations of the directors? These are all questions that are deliberately left open in the film through the ethical ambiguity of Sebastián/Bernal. The radical Mexican director tries to persuade the women by claiming he will film and document their past experiences, and his benevolent impulse to represent the indig- enous women risks appropriating their own voices. Bollaín shows that Bolivian women are hardly heard or recognized within the current global cinematic industry. Never- theless she does not deny their capacity for social change, as their resistance is able to temporarily block the entire shooting of the Columbus film. Because of them, the drown- ing sequence will never be shot, at least not in the way Sebastián imagined. In any case, it cannot be a coincidence that the historic drama sequences are a compilation of various brutalities. A critic may still wonder if Even the Rain itself is entangled in the contradiction of displaying violence with the excuse of self-awareness. This self-awareness is not a limitation, but rather a vital contradiction, and violent/ controversial images need to be shown to represent the consequences of colonialism. Sebastián pushes the violent exploitation pedal, but since we know the behind the scenes story thanks to documentarian María, we are aware that his honest depiction of co- lonialism is yet another form of exploitation, partly motivated by narcissism. The violence climaxes in the scene in which the Indians who refuse to convert are tied to crosses and burned alive. At the end of the sequence, the police arrive to arrest Daniel. At this point the film’s intertwined temporalities are fully manifested, since the leader of the insubordinate Indians in 1492 is also one of the leaders of the guerra del agua and fights the police while still wearing his film costume and makeup. The extras, also in costume, revolt against the police and help Daniel escape, recalling a scene they had enacted as part of the historic drama. María begins to film the confrontation but is im- mediately stopped by Sebastián. Thus, the historic and cinematic temporalities of the Cochabamba affair and the colonial exploi- tation operated by Columbus overlap fully 256 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies into each other. This scene is representative of the film as a summa of the achievements of regional cinema, and at the same time a beginning toward a new global aesthetic. Bol- laín’s film is conceptually more self-conscious than ever, and more aware of the difficulties of grasping the experiences of the Bolivians in ways that may adequately reflect their present situation, and such self-consciousness of the limits of representation in the end becomes its force. Notes 1 For a detailed article based on research in the archives of the Center for Documentation and Information Bolivia see Assies, Willem. “David versus Goliath in Cochabamba: Wa- ter Rights, Neoliberalism, and the Revival of Social Protest in Bolivia.” See also the account of the non-profit, consumer rights advocacy group Public Citizen. “Water Privatization Case Study: Cochabamba, Bolivia” <www.citizen.org/ documents/Bolivia_(PDF).PDF>. Other useful insights come from Emanuele Lobina at the PSIRU (Public Services international Research Unit), University of Greenwich. <www.psiru.org/ reports/Cochabamba.doc>. 2 For an account based on a series of inter- views with Oscar Olivera, one of the local activists that took part to the revolution see ¡Cochabamba!: Water War in Bolivia. 3 For an historical overview of key events gen- erating a wave of documentary or documentary- like films in Latin America and a textual analysis of some of these works, see also the volume edited by Julianne Burton, The Social Documentary in Latin America. 4 In addition Aduviri, who delivers a memo- rable performance in Even the Rain as an activ- ist/indigenous chief, is an aspiring director and teacher at the Film School in Los Altos (Cabitza). 5 “The great advantage of Third Cinema is that while it is politically oppositional to domi- nant cinema (and Second Cinema), it does not seek, at the level of form and cinematic language, to reinvent cinema from scratch (it is too inter- ested in cinema to do that), nor does it adopt a position of pure opposition on the question of form (it is too interested in communication for that); instead its relation to First and Second Cinema is dialectical: i.e. it seeks to transform rather than simply reject these cinemas; it seeks to bring out their stifled potentialities, those aspects of the social world they repress or only obliquely acknowledge; Third Cinema seeks to detach what is positive, life-affirming, and critical of Cinemas One and Two and give them a more expanded, socially connected articulation” (Wayne 10). 6 For an interesting case study, see Tamara L. Falicov. “Programa Ibermedia Co-Production and the Cultural Politics of Constructing an Ibero-American Audiovisual Space.” 7 The commitment and sensibility shown toward local Bolivian communities by the real crew of Even the Rain were documented in The Cinema of Iciar Bollaín, which makes the insinuations by critics appear unfair, since they provided support for a local film school, a new water deposit and a bridge, and paid the extras $20 a day (Santaolalla 209). 8 This is evident in the opening credits of The New World, which feature historical maps, or the old master prints in Scott’s Conquest of Paradise, showing a red background followed by the super- imposed title: “500 years ago, Spain was a nation gripped by fear and superstition, ruled by the crown and a ruthless Inquisition that persecuted men for daring to dream. One man challenged this power. Driven by his sense of destiny, he crossed the sea of darkness in search of honor, gold, and the greater glory of God.” These titles reveal that what follows is a Eurocentric (it is a full hour before indigenous people appear in the film) portrayal of Columbus as an ambitious and progressive idealist. At the end of Scott’s film we see an aged Columbus looking over the sea dictat- ing the memories of the expedition to his son. 9 Malick’s work is informed by a grid of literary sources such as James Fenimore Cooper, James Jones, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and Walt Whitman, and by the philosophy of Ludwig Wittgenstein and Martin Heidegger. Fabrizio Cilento 257 Works Cited Alvaray, Luisela. “National, Regional, and Global: New Waves of Latin American Cinema.” Cinema Journal 47.3 (Winter 2007): 48-65. Print. Assies, Willem. “David versus Goliath in Coch- abamba: Water Rights, Neoliberalism, and the Revival of Social Protest in Bolivia.” Latin American Perspectives 30.3 (May, 2003): 14-36. Print. Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra and Simulation. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1994. Print. Burton, Julianne, ed. The Social Documentary in Latin America. Pittsburg: U of Pittsburg P, 1990. Print. Cabitza, Mattia. “How Bolivian Juan Carlos Aduviri Won Big Film Role.” BBC News. BBC, 02 Jan. 2011. Web. <www.bbc.co.uk/ news/world-latin-america-12276026>. Crespo, Mauricio Souza. “Crash Course on Bolivian Cinema.” ReVista - Fall 2011. Da- vid Rockfeller Center for Latin American Studies, n.d. Web. <www.drclas.harvard. edu/publications/revistaonline/fall-2011/ crash-course-bolivian-cinema>. E b e r t , R o g e r. “ Ev e n t h e R a i n .” C h i - cago Sun-Times, 24 Feb. 2011. Web. <rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs. d l l / a r t i c l e ? A I D = / 2 0 1 1 0 2 2 4 / R E - VIEWS/110229991> Even the Rain. Dir. Icíar Bollaín. Perf. Gael Gar- cía Bernal, Luis Tosar, Juan Carlos Aduviri, and Cassandra Ciangherotti. Vitagraph Films, 2010. DVD. Falicov, Tamara. “Programa Ibermedia: Co- Production and the Cultural Politics of Constructing an Ibero-American Audio- visual Space.” Spectator 27.2 (Fall 2007): 21-30. Print. García Espinosa, Julio. “For an Imperfect Cin- ema.” New Latin American Cinema: Theory, Practices and Transcontinental Practices (71-82), Vol.1. Ed. M. T. Martin. Detroit: Wayne UP, 1997. Print. Haddu, Miriam. “The Power of Looking: Politics and the Gaze in Salvador Carrasco’s La otra conquista.” Contemporary Latin American Cinema: Breaking into the Global Market. Ed. Deborah Shaw. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, 2007. Print. Holden, Stephen. “Discovering Columbus’s Exploitation. Even the Rain, Icíar Bol- laín’s Political Film.” The New York Times, 17 Feb. 2011. Web. <http://movies.ny- times.com/2011/02/18/movies/18even. html?_r=0>. Nietzsche, Friedrich. The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs. Trans. Walter Kaufmann. New York: Vin- tage, 1974. Print. Olivera, Oscar, and Tom Lewis. Cochabamba!: Water War in Bolivia. Cambridge, MA: South End, 2004. Print. Pick, Zuzana M. The New Latin American Cin- ema: A Continental Project. Austin: U of Texas P, 1993. Print. Santaolalla, Isabel. The Cinema of Icíar Bollaín. Manchester and New York: Manchester UP, 2012. Print. Schroeder Rodríguez, Paul. “After New Latin American Cinema.” Cinema Journal 51.2 (2012): 87-112. Print. Shultz, Jim, and Melissa Draper. Dignity and Defiance: Stories from Bolivia’s Challenge to Globalization. Berkeley: U of California P, 2008. Print. Solanas, Fernando and Octavio Gettino. “To- wards a Third Cinema.” Ed. Bill Nichols. Movies and Methods. Berkley: U of California P, 1985, 44-64. Print. Wayne, Mike. Political Film: The Dialectics of Third Cinema. London: Pluto, 2001. Print. White, Hayden. “Foreward” to Koselleck, Re- inhart. The Practice of Conceptual History. Timing History, Spacing Concepts. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2002; ix – xiv. Print. 258 Arizona Journal of Hispanic Cultural Studies Cronopio Photo by Norma Guzmán 
work_wzmmxvato5ffhhwvxiy23qb42e	----	Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015137 * Agradezco al Departamento de Antropología de la Universidad Alberto Hurtado, al Progra- ma Fondecyt Postdoctorado, a Antonio Sahady, Director del Instituto de Historia y Patrimonio (FAU, Universidad de Chile) y a la Facultad de Arquitectura y Urbanismo de la Universidad de Chile por el apoyo institucional y académico que me han brindado, el cual ha sido fundamental para terminar con éxito este trabajo, fruto del primer año de mi investigación postdoctoral. ** Departamento de Antropología, Universidad Alberto Hurtado. Postdoctorante Universi- dad de Chile (FAU) - Fondecyt 3130428. Santiago, Chile. Correo electrónico: pafazu@hotmail. com ISSn 0716-1840 Agencias inesperadas: La museificación del pasado colonial en el Chile del siglo xix* Unexpected agencies: The museification of colonial past in nineteenth-century Chile Paulina Faba Zuleta** RESUMEn A través de la comparación de diversos ámbitos relacionados con la Exposición del Coloniaje (1873), tales como la historiografía, la memoria y las formas de interpreta- ción y construcción de las imágenes, este artículo busca demostrar que los procesos de museificación de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX en Chile, marcan dinámicas de re-sig- nificación de los objetos y el pasado colonial, las cuales se reflejan tanto en el desarrollo de una cultura visual (Baxandall, [1972]2000 y Alpers, 1983), como en la manifestación de formas inesperadas de agencia de las imágenes (Gell, 1998). Palabras clave: Museificación, memoria, cultura visual, Exposición del Coloniaje (1873). ABSTRACT Through the analysis of different contexts associated with the Coloniaje Exhibition (1873), such as historiography, memory and forms of interpretation and construction of colonial images; this article tries to demonstrate that the museum display of histori- cal collections in nineteenth-Century Chile, is related to the resignification of objects Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015137 pp. 137-151 138Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 and the colonial past. This process is reflected in the development of a visual culture (Baxandall, 2000 y Alpers, 1983) as well as in the emergence of unexpected forms of agency in respect to the images (Gell, 1998). Keywords: Museification, memory, visual culture, Coloniaje Exhibition (1873). Recibido: 07.01.14. Aceptado: 24.08.15. InTRODUCCIÓn l a sEgunda mitad del siglo XIX constituye un período fundamental para la comprensión de la emergencia de los procesos de patrimo- nialización y puesta en valor de colecciones de objetos históricos en Chile. Por primera vez se desarrollan esfuerzos institucionalizados por co- lectar, seleccionar, clasificar y exhibir objetos considerados desde entonces como “nacionales”. Un síntoma primigenio de dichos procesos es, sin duda, la organización de la Exposición del Coloniaje, instancia impulsada por Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna durante su cargo como intendente de la ciu- dad de Santiago (1872-1875) y celebrada en 1873 en el antiguo Palacio de los Gobernadores, contiguo a la Intendencia (hoy Correos de Chile). Por medio de la observación de las articulaciones posibles entre las no- ciones de memoria, de historia y las materialidades asociadas al museo, ta- les como los objetos y las imágenes pictóricas de personajes y eventos del pasado, este texto intenta demostrar que la Exposición del Coloniaje de 1873, pone en evidencia un proceso de re-significación del pasado colonial, tanto a través del desarrollo de una forma de historiografía, como a partir de la emergencia de una cultura visual, caracterizada por el advenimiento de nuevas instancias de relación con los objetos del Coloniaje. LA EMERGEnCIA DEL VALOR HISTÓRICO “La historia que representa como en un gran espejo, a las sociedades a venir, los resultados de todas las teorías de todas las experiencias de las sociedades pasadas” (Sismondi, 1836: I). Para Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna un aspecto fundamental de las exposicio- nes históricas como la del Coloniaje constituía, por un lado, el desarrollo de un “respeto” hacia los objetos del pasado nacional y, por otro, la visibi- B. Vicuña Mackenna Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015139 lización y el ordenamiento de las distintas fases de la “sociabilidad” chile- na, cuya línea de emergencia se trazaba principalmente desde la Conquista hasta el gobierno de Manuel Bulnes (Vicuña Mackenna, 1873c, p. 343). En el periódico El Ferrocarril del jueves 18 de septiembre de 1873, fecha de la apertura de la exhibición, se especificaba al respecto que: “Todos los objetos que se han reunido desde la época de la Conquista 1541 hasta el primer año de la administración del general Bulnes, 1841, se han distribuido en doce grupos”. Tomando en consideración dicha línea temporal, la Exposición del Co- loniaje, se estructuró a partir de la división de alrededor de 600 objetos1, en los siguientes conjuntos clasificatorios: 1) Retratos históricos y cuadros de familia, 2) Muebles y carruajes, 3) Trajes y tapicerías, 4) Objetos antiguos de culto, 5) Objetos de ornamentación civil, 6) Útiles de casa, 7) Joyas, pla- cas y decoraciones personales, 8) Colecciones numismáticas, 9) Objetos de la industria chilena colonial, 10) Armas, banderas españolas de los ejércitos de la Guerra de la Independencia, 11) Manuscritos y 12) Utensilios de la industria indígena anterior a la conquista. Gran parte de estos objetos, de acuerdo a las propias palabras de Vicuña Mackenna, no tenían en la época: “ningún aprecio posible, sea por estar devorados por el arrumbe del tiempo, sea por hallarse truncos de piezas o porque sus dueños ni siquiera saben o sospechan el uso que tuvieron” (Vicuña Mackenna, 1873c, p. 343). no obstante, a través del ejemplo los “gobiernos cultos y los pueblos adelantados de Europa”, que habían sabido desarrollar admirables museos históricos, tales como el Museo Británico y el de la Real Armería de Madrid, Vicuña Mackenna proclamaba la organi- zación de la Exposición como un acontecimiento fundamental, refiriendo el reflejo de los avances alcanzados por la nación, por medio del contraste histórico entre lo que se describía como la “inercia” del pasado y la “vigoro- sa” vitalidad del presente (Vicuña Mackenna, 1873c, p. 344). Es en este sentido que, uno de los objetivos primordiales de la Exposi- ción del Coloniaje, era continuar lo avanzado por la Exposición de Artes e Industria celebrada en septiembre de 1872 en el edificio del Mercado Cen- tral de Santiago. Dicho acontecimiento había pretendido mostrar “el grado de progreso y de civilización que el país había alcanzado en los últimos años”, permitiendo a la vez la re-significación de la vida pública. Esto re- 1 De acuerdo con el Catálogo del Museo Histórico del Santa Lucía, la cantidad de objetos exhi- bidos en la Exposición del Coloniaje fue de 600 (Vicuña Mackenna, 1875, p. 1). La misma cifra de objetos es referida por el historiador Hernán Rodríguez (1982). Antiguo Palacio de los Gobernadores, donde fue celebrada la Exposición del Coloniaje. 140Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 quería, sin duda, la sistematización de nuevas fiestas cívicas que dieran a la nación su “verdadero carácter” y es por ello, en gran medida, que se explica la ambición de dotar de una trascendencia mayor a ciertas imágenes aso- ciadas a la nación a través de las exhibiciones. Lejos de constituir represen- taciones efímeras, tal como se pensaba a las fiestas populares; los procesos de museificación tenían, entre sus propósitos principales, la revelación del “desarrollo progresivo” de las fuerzas productoras del país, las cuales bus- caban despertar “en la sociedad culta la impresión fecunda del triunfo de la inteligencia, a la vez que inculcan en el corazón y en los sentidos del pueblo, el sentimiento de lo bello y de lo grande, que es innato en el hombre, cual- quiera que sea su condición social o política” (1873: VII). El despertar del triunfo de la “inteligencia y la belleza” también involucraba la emergencia de una serie de procesos de patrimonialización asociados al coleccionismo y a una necesidad de resguardar, clasificar y dar a ver el pasado colectivo. Cierto gusto por las Bellas-Artes, que hace poco tiempo se ha desperta- do entre nosotros, nos ha obligado a confesar que no todos los objetos de lujo que decoraban los salones de la época del Coloniaje merecían que los convirtiésemos en leña o los dejásemos apolillarse en un inmun- do rincón. Con estas palabras Miguel Luis Amunátegui comienza su célebre ensayo “Apuntes sobre lo que han sido las Bellas Artes en Chile”. En dicho texto, el autor da cuenta de un cambio de perspectiva frente a la apreciación de algunos objetos del pasado, que se traduce como el desarrollo de “un cierto buen gusto”, asociado en primera instancia a un valor histórico de los obje- tos (Amunátegui, 1849, p. 38). Si bien Amunátegui hace alusión fundamen- talmente a objetos de lujo y retratos, su apreciación se encuentra anclada en la emergencia de nuevas formas de observar y poner en valor elementos que van desde trajes y muebles hasta artefactos utilitarios. En 1893, el historiador del arte Alois Riegl destacaba desde el ámbito disciplinario dicho cambio de perspectiva señalando que no sólo los cá- nones de “belleza” y “viveza” eran factibles de constituir las únicas dimen- siones de estudio de las imágenes: “En realidad, todo depende de llegar a comprender que ni con aquello que entendemos por belleza, ni con aquello que entendemos por viveza, se agota por completo el objetivo de las artes plásticas, sino que la voluntad artística kunstwollen puede estar orientada también hacia la percepción de otras manifestaciones ni bellas ni vivas, se- gún las concepciones modernas de los objetos” (Riegl, [1901] 1992, p. 21). El valor histórico, entonces, encontrándose vinculado al desarrollo de M. L. Amunátegui Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015141 una industrialización de los modos de producción, constituye un elemento fundamental para la extensión de los procesos de patrimonialización y mu- seificación a una diversidad de objetos utilitarios (trajes, muebles, carruajes, monedas, armas, máquinas, entre otros), los cuales son considerados por primera vez dignos de ser rescatados y exhibidos en público. En el periódi- co El Ferrocarril de 9 de octubre de 1873, a través de la descripción de una visita a la Exposición del Coloniaje, se destacaba la relación entre algunos de los objetos exhibidos y el coloniaje desde una perspectiva crítica. De este modo, observando el progreso alcanzado por la sociedad chilena frente a la contemplación del pasado, se exclamaba: “¡Ah señores! no hay nada capaz de endulzar el sentimiento que causa la contemplación del legado testamen- tario de la colonia y la meditación de la historia colonial de la América espa- ñola. El reino de Chile era quizá una de las sociedades más adelantadas del continente americano y sin embargo, cuando tratamos de ponerlo delante de nuestros ojos sólo vemos muebles, tapicerías, retratos, genealogías, trajes2!”. Los objetos mencionados, considerados hasta hacía poco como antigua- llas “sin valor”, parecían devenir entonces, como por arte de magia, elemen- tos de definición, identificación y reconstrucción del pasado colonial. En este sentido, una primera dimensión de la agencia (agency) de los objetos museográficos de la segunda mitad del XIX en Chile, es sin duda aquella provocada por el contraste entre las materialidades que refieren a aquello que “fuimos” frente a aquellas que evidencian lo que “hemos devenido”, en términos de desarrollo tecnológico y artístico. no obstante, como observa- remos más adelante, dicha dinámica no constituye sino una de las múltiples formas de apropiación y presentificación de los objetos en la época. Lejos de reducirse a la sola perspectiva evolucionista por medio del contraste entre el pasado y el presente, los objetos participan de formas de percepción y aso- ciación que involucran tanto la manifestación de una relación con el mun- do (Wittgenstein, [1922] 2003), como el reflejo de formas de socialización. LA FIGURACIÓn DEL PASADO A TRAVÉS DE LA HISTORIA En una primera exploración acerca de la emergencia del valor histórico de los objetos, es posible notar que dicho proceso se encuentra vinculado tanto a una reflexión en torno al rol de la historia, como a la relación de ésta con las imágenes y los objetos del coloniaje. En su revelador texto acerca de 2 Las cursivas son mías. 142Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 la influencia social de la conquista y del sistema colonial de los españoles en Chile, José Victorino Lastarria (1817-1888), destacaba en 1842 la impor- tancia de la historia para los pueblos: La Historia es para los pueblos lo que es para el hombre su experiencia particular: tal como este prosigue su carrera de perfección, apelando siempre a sus recuerdos, a las verdades que le ha hecho concebir su pro- pia sensibilidad, a las observaciones que le sugieren los hechos desde su infancia, la sociedad debe igualmente en las diversas épocas de su vida, acudir a la Historia, en que se haya consignada la experiencia de todo el género humano, a ese gran espejo de los tiempos, para iluminarse en sus reflejos (1844, p. 200). Basándose principalmente en las ideas de Jean Charles Léonard Simon- de de Sismondi (1773-1842) y de Edgar Quinet (1803-1875), Lastarria des- cribía la historia como: “la ciencia de los hechos”, notando al mismo tiempo el poder oracular de ésta, en términos de su susceptibilidad a revelar una verdad, una “sabiduría a los pueblos del mundo” (1844, p. 203). Es en este marco que la Conquista, el Coloniaje y la Independencia se erigen como tres puntos fundamentales de la escritura de la historia de Chile en el XIX. Dichas etapas constituían un campo de análisis relevante para medir las consecuencias y actualizaciones del pasado en el presente. El rol que se le daba a la historiografía en el siglo XIX se fundamenta- ba, en gran medida, en la importancia de un ejercicio de regeneración, es decir, en la necesidad de hacer emerger el pasado con el fin de reconocer sus influencias en el presente para “aconsejar a los pueblos y enseñarlos a procurarse un porvenir venturoso” (Lastarria, 1844, p. 206). En este senti- do, resulta significativa la importancia que tenía el reconocimiento de un “orden de los hechos” temporal y lógico, el cual delataba, según diversos intelectuales de la época, la presencia de algunos “vicios del pasado” en la sociedad chilena, latentes aún en la segunda mitad del siglo XIX. Lastarria remarcaba al respecto en 1842: “El origen e infancia de nuestra sociedad no se escapan a nuestras miradas, no se han perdido todavía en las tinieblas de los tiempos” (1844, p. 206). La escritura de la historia se enmarcaba, entonces, en la urgencia de una acción del pasado en el presente, en un proyecto de regeneración social, principalmente “popular”3, en donde la transformación de la memoria po- 3 Sergio Grez destaca la importancia de la idea de “regeneración del pueblo” para la Sociedad de la Igualdad y el pensamiento liberal ([1997] 2007). J. V. Lastarria Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015143 seía un papel central. Como fenómeno global, el distanciamiento del pasa- do se traducía en el desarrollo de ciertas modalidades de “dar a ver” y en la discriminación y constancia de algunas temáticas, figuras e imágenes de la Conquista, la Colonia y la Independencia. El pasado, entonces, no sólo era estudiado, sino en gran parte “figurado” por el relato histórico, a par- tir de la reconstrucción de ciertas costumbres olvidadas, de la descripción de los lugares de la ciudad colonial y del carácter de los grandes hombres que guiaron los acontecimientos históricos. Esta figuración del pasado a través del relato, constituía una dimensión estrechamente relacionada con el desarrollo de las primeras exhibiciones históricas. Esto, no sólo porque el museo se erigió tempranamente como un espacio de marcación del va- lor temporal de los objetos, sino también porque ambas lógicas culturales de visualización se encontraron en constante diálogo, a partir del vínculo entre los actores sociales (Vicuña Mackenna, Amunátegui, entre otros) que impulsaron, tanto una escritura de la historia como los propios procesos de museificación. En este contexto, no resulta extraño que la historiografía se asociara fre- cuentemente al trabajo de pintar un lienzo, ya sea a través del retrato de ciertos acontecimientos, como a través de la descripción de sus persona- jes principales4. En este segundo plano, la fisonomía destacaba como un universo relevante de ejercicio de una hermenéutica. En Descubrimiento y conquista de Chile, Miguel Luis Amunátegui refiere respecto al método utilizado para construir el relato histórico: “El mejor medio de pintar a los conquistadores del siglo XVI, con su fisonomía propia y característica, era refundir los escritos contemporáneos en una especie de crónica que tuviese una forma literaria moderna, pero en la cual se conservasen la sustancia y hasta los rasgos de los documentos primitivos” (1885, p. VIII). Cabe destacar que, en tanto heredera del antiguo arte de la memoria europeo, la historia del siglo XIX otorgaba un rol importante a los retratos, medallas y objetos históricos para la interpretación del pasado. Historiado- res mundialmente renombrados de la época, tales como François Guizot (1787-1874) y Jules Michelet (1798-1874), confiaban en la utilidad del es- tudio de las imágenes para la interpretación del pasado. 4 Cabe destacar las palabras de Manuel Antonio Matta acerca de la obra de Michelet en las cuales define la obra de dicho historiador francés de la siguiente manera: “Michelet, el historiador y poeta, que hacía revivir –viviendo él mismo– las diversas épocas de la variada historia de su país; Michelet, el escritor artista que hacía ver –viendo él mismo– los grandes personajes conocidos, los colosales cuadros animados y los progresos trascendentales…” (Matta, 1875, p. 19). 144Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 Jules Michelet, por ejemplo, pensaba que, tanto la estructura real de las sociedades del pasado como las características definitorias de las distintas nacionalidades, podían “visualizarse e interpretarse mediante la contem- plación imaginativa de las artes que esas sociedades y naciones dejaron” (Haskell, 1994, p. 243). De forma similar, estableciendo un vínculo claro entre las imágenes de la Exposición del Coloniaje y la reconstrucción de la historia nacional, Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna declaraba en el Catálogo del Museo Histórico del Santa Lucía de 1875: Como enseñanza, afirma el intendente de Santiago, no careció de interés esa vasta y variada colección de memorias y de cosas, de vestigios y de reliquias, por cuanto es evidente que no hay mejor manera de recons- truir la historia bajo sus bases genuinas y naturales que recoger los ma- deros más o menos robustos del andamio en que los siglos han venido agrupándose uno en pos de otro hasta formar el gran cuerpo de unidad que se llamó la vida del linaje humano (1875, p. 1). EL CARÁCTER DE LOS OBJETOS “Coloquemos en nuestro Museo una galería, una sección especial de retra- tos de los personajes más eminentes de nuestra historia” (Blanco, 1879, p. 399). En las exhibiciones de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX, es posible notar una referencia constante al “carácter” de los objetos exhibidos. Retratos, objetos y ciertos productos de la actividad industrial, son frecuentemente descritos como dotados de carácter. Pero, ¿cómo entender lo que implicaba esta categoría para la época? De acuerdo al argumento expuesto en las me- morias de la Exposición Nacional de Artes e Industria de 1872: La agricultura, trabajo esencialmente material y orgánico produce pueblos rudos, sociedades inmóviles de caracteres estacionarios. La in- dustria que es combinación del trabajo material e intelectual, produce pueblos flexibles, sociedades activas, caracteres progresivos. La simple transición de un trabajo al otro constituye para Chile toda su civiliza- ción actual y la combinación de ambos explica el progreso del carácter chileno (1873, p. 23). En efecto, diversos textos de este período develan una relación singular entre personaje y objeto. En La vida santiaguina, Vicente Grez (1879, p. 60), por ejemplo, se refiere al vínculo entre algunos objetos de lujo y personajes Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015145 célebres de la época republicana: “Así como aparecen pintores, escultores y poetas célebres, así también pasean por los salones, en medio de las ricas porcelanas y de los bronces admirables, esos hombres elegantes y finos que son objetos vivos5 y que simbolizan las costumbres de su época” (1879, p. 58). La agencia de los objetos de colección, tales como los trajes y las joyas, se expresa en el hecho que, dichas materialidades, no sólo evidencian una ló- gica de proyección de los cuerpos de personajes célebres en sus ornamentos y espacios de acción, sino que también “dan a ver” su carácter6. El mismo Vicente Grez resaltaba, con respecto a la vestimenta cortesana del coloniaje que: Este traje verdaderamente cortesano de la época colonial estaba en ar- monía con los hábitos sociales, con el espíritu aristocrático que domi- naba, con la etiqueta rigurosa de los salones. El salón santiaguino era en los dos siglos anteriores algo como un templo (…) Aquellos salones espaciosos, amueblados con un método y orden verdaderamente oficial, revelaban a primera vista el ceremonial de la época7 (1878, p. 549). El “carácter” constituye una categoría compleja, que se refiere tanto a los aspectos materiales como inmateriales, los cuales definen una persona- lidad, un comportamiento, pero también una identidad. De este modo, los objetos del museo y las colecciones manifiestan características formales e históricas únicas, las cuales permiten definirlas también como auténticas. Tomando como eje estos planteamientos, un aspecto interesante emerge en relación a los sistemas de objetos museográficos: en base a la catego- ría de carácter, las dimensiones materiales e inmateriales relacionadas con las colecciones, permiten su articulación con otras imágenes. Éstas últimas construyen, a partir de una lógica indexical (Peirce, 1953), una “presencia”: aquella de los personajes, contextos y acontecimientos del pasado nacional. 5 Las cursivas son mías. 6 Resulta significativo notar que el interés por los grandes hombres y su relación con la histo- ria constituye un tema desarrollado por diversos autores de la época a nivel mundial. Entre ellos destaca la obra Representative Men. Seven Lectures de Ralph Waldo Emerson (1884). Esta obra es citada ampliamente por Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna en su texto Una excursión a través de la inmortalidad (1889). 7 Para Vicente Grez: “La galantería era flor desconocida durante la vida colonial. En aquella sociedad monótona, triste, pobre, silenciosa, apenas se comprendía cierto ceremonial de etiqueta, desde que no existía el salón, la tertulia, el club, el baile, el teatro, no había por consiguiente at- mósfera respirable para los hombres galantes” (1879, p. 60). 146Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 Un tipo de objetos importantes que se exhiben en la Exposición del Co- loniaje y el Museo Histórico del Cerro Santa Lucía son los originales y co- pias de retratos históricos y cuadros de familia del Coloniaje. En el marco de los estudios históricos, el retrato y los objetos asociados a personajes célebres jugaban un papel importante como material interpretativo. La fi- sonomía en particular constituía una forma legítima de entender los perso- najes históricos, su personalidad y los vínculos genealógicos que mantenían con otros individuos. En su texto acerca de la historia de Francia Jules Michelet refiere, por ejemplo, con respecto a Marguerite de Valois (La Reine Margot) que la efi- gie de dicho personaje retratado en el reverso de una medalla “revela una imagen ligera, una bruma que es sin embargo reveladora: abre todo un ca- rácter que se corresponde tan bien y de manera justa con los documentos escritos que uno diría: Es la verdad”8. Si bien Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna se mostraba un tanto crítico del uso de las imágenes que realizaba Michelet, constituía a la vez uno de los intelectuales que otorgaban una relevancia fundamental a las imágenes de los grandes hombres en el Chile decimonó- nico. El connotado político e historiador confiaba en que las artes plásticas habían “sido llamadas al campo de las investigaciones no sólo como los más incansables apoyos de la verdad histórica sino como sus más grandes y luminosos divulgadores”9 (Vicuña Mackenna, 1875, p. 2). Pero, al mismo tiempo que los objetos de la Exposición del Coloniaje enseñaban el carácter de los Grandes Hombres del pasado, participaban de nuevas formas de distinción y demarcación de una “nobleza cultural” en el presente (Bourdieu, 1979). Los retratos de “familia” asociados a los objetos de personajes influyentes del pasado reflejaban en el presente una verdadera proyección de la personalidad, los espacios y el prestigio de los donadores de colecciones, cuyos nombres eran revelados a la par del precio de adquisición de los objetos. En el periódico El Ferrocarril del 7 de marzo de 1873, Benjamín Vicuña Mackenna se refería con especial detalle a los nombres de los donadores de diferentes objetos que se habían recopilado para ser exhibidos en el evento: 8 Traducción libre de la autora. “C’est une image légère, un brouillard, mais révélateur, qui ouvre tout un caractère, qui répond si bien et si juste a tous les documents écrits, qu’on s’écrie : ‘c’est la vérité’”. Jules Michelet (1893-1898, p. 152). 9 Estas ideas pueden explicar, en parte, la estrecha relación genealógica que mantuvieron en un principio las exhibiciones históricas y las de Bellas Artes. Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015147 El ilustre almirante Don Manuel Blanco Encalada, entre varios e inte- resantes retratos de familia conserva el de su quinto abuelo, Don Diego de León, capitán de la Monja Alférez en las Guerras de Arauco y el del Marqués de Villa-Palmas, su bisabuelo materno. Uno de los miembros de la comisión es dueño de otra serie de retratos de familia, entre los que figura el célebre caudillo don Tomás de Figueroa y otros personajes de la Colonia. no obstante, a pesar del efecto “naturalizador” del despliegue de los ob- jetos en el museo, resulta notable constatar que la Exposición del Colonia- je no estuvo exenta de agudas críticas acerca de la forma de presentar los objetos. Si bien se señalaba que las “antiguallas” exhibidas en la exposición constituían “reliquias inocentes” que representaban “un piadoso recuerdo de nuestros genitores y hasta como una provechosa enseñanza”, al mismo tiempo se expresaba un descontento ante lo que se anunciaba como una forma de esconder demostraciones de “vanidades aristocráticas” que se evidenciaban en “las ansias devoradoras del lujo” y en la selección y pre- sentación de imágenes de manera jerárquica e intencionada. Algunos de los objetos mayormente cuestionados fueron los árboles genealógicos, cuya disposición en la exhibición parece haber tenido una importancia particu- lar: “En aquel vetusto museo, que huele a tumba desde la puerta, los árboles genealógicos figuran en primera línea, mientras que los retratos de golilla, y los blasones de las antiguas casas señoriales demolidas por la revolución, agobian las paredes, tapizadas con los colores peninsulares” (El Ferrocarril, 24 de septiembre de 1873). La puesta en escena y la ambientación de los salones de la Exposición del Coloniaje permitían relacionar retratos, joyas, objetos y trajes de los hombres célebres, marcándose un efecto de proyección de los interiores de los salones de la época en el contexto de la exhibición. Como lo remarcaba el mismo Vicuña Mackenna algunos meses antes de la apertura del evento: “Innumerables son los artefactos que encontrando natural cabida en este grupo atraerán la justa atención de público. En nuestra propia casa, existen, por ejemplo, las entonces lujosas mesas de arrimo con relieves de bronce y cubiertas de mármol (…)”(El Ferrocarril, 7 de marzo de 1873). En fotografías de interiores de las casas de la élite de la época como los Urmeneta, los Cousiño, los Vicuña, entre otros, la disposición de los obje- tos evoca fuertemente los interiores de las exhibiciones, en particular la del Museo Histórico Santa Lucía, en donde retratos de antepasados y persona- jes célebres colgaban de las paredes, asociados a muebles y a una decoración que combinaba el estilo colonial con el neoclásico y el gótico europeo. En 148Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 un pasaje de la novela Casa Grande de Luis Orrego Luco, se describe el in- terior del salón principal de la casa de Don Leonidas, personaje relevante de dicho relato: Los jóvenes penetraron en el saloncito amueblado a usanza de 1840, época en que habían sido traídos de París los pesados cortinajes de bro- cato de seda y los macizos grandes sofás de caoba tallada. Alto espejo subía de la chimenea al techo. La mesa de boule, con incrustaciones de bronce y carey, era verdaderamente regia y de carácter, así como la pieza de centro de porcelana de Sèvres, traída hacía medio siglo. Las paredes tapizadas de seda verde oscura estaban adornadas solamente por dos cuadros: un paisaje de Corot y un retrato del oidor de la Real Audiencia de lima, Don nuño de Sandoval, atribuido a Goya, lo que no era de extrañar dada su admirable factura. En este retrato de abuelo se notaba el labio grueso de nariz aguileña características de la familia tan pro- nunciadamente señaladas de Don Leonidas y la misma fealdad llena de aristocrática distinción (Orrego Luco, 1908, p. 31). Las formas de presentificación del pasado, entonces, puestas en eviden- cia por medio de la interpretación y las maneras de asociar ciertos objetos e imágenes, no parecen circunscribirse al ámbito de las exhibiciones histó- ricas. La importancia del carácter y los aspectos genealógicos de los objetos constituyen dimensiones fundamentales de formas de socialización y de relación con el mundo que manifiestan el desarrollo de una cultura visual. Esta última hace palpable la emergencia de nuevas perspectivas en torno a los objetos, las cuales junto con estar influenciadas por el fenómeno de industrialización y de redefinición del pasado colonial, encarnan formas primigenias de procesos de museificación y patrimonialización, que se con- solidarán posteriormente en Chile. AGEnCIAMIEnTOS Y CEnTRALIZACIÓn DE LA MEMORIA El análisis de diversos dispositivos productores de imágenes y discursos en torno al pasado colonial, nos permitió observar que la lógica relacional de las imágenes producidas por la Exposición del Coloniaje (1873) constituye un elemento fundamental para comprender la cultura visual y la agencia (agen- cy) de las imágenes asociadas a la genealogía del museo en Chile. Lejos de im- plicar un fenómeno unidireccional, la museificación, en tanto espacialización de la memoria, permite una multiplicidad de formas de agenciamiento de los objetos (Gell, 1998), entre las cuales podemos distinguir las siguientes: Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015149 –Agenciamiento histórico-mnemónico: Los objetos invitan a la recons- trucción de una temporalidad de manera secuencial. La mirada y el pensa- miento son circunscritos a un orden temporal y espacial, al mismo tiempo que a la interpretación del pasado nacional. Cabe destacar que este tipo de agenciamiento engloba en gran parte los agenciamientos genealógico y de ambientación o espacialización. –Agenciamiento empático-genealógico: A partir de las imágenes se in- fiere una presencia a través de la evocación del cuerpo, el carácter y la ge- nealogía de los personajes del pasado. Se evidencia un proceso de empatía y de identificación con dichos personajes, reconocidos frecuentemente como “Grandes Hombres”. El agenciamiento genealógico es también una forma de legitimación directa con el origen de la nación a través de los objetos, demarcando en el presente la acción de una “nobleza cultural” relacionada con las élites de la época. –Agenciamiento espacial y situacional (proyección interiores): Los obje- tos permiten la inferencia de un contexto espacial o situacional, a partir de la puesta en relación de ellos. Este tipo de agenciamiento se hace particular- mente notable al considerar la entrada en el museo de objetos decorativos y artefactos, tales como utensilios, muebles y elementos de ornamentación civil, entre otros. Como vimos, este tipo de agenciamiento se relaciona con el agenciamiento genealógico, en tanto proyección de los espacios interio- res y los salones de los “grandes hombres”. Finalmente, los agenciamientos analizados a partir del ejemplo de la Exhibición del Coloniaje (1873) y de los contextos asociados a la produc- ción de imágenes del pasado, nos permitieron notar que la genealogía del museo en Chile constituye un proceso de “centralización” y consolidación de formas de rememoración a partir de la instauración de sistemas de ob- jetos. Dichas dinámicas, que otorgan un lugar central al coloniaje, parecen erigirse como verdaderas tecnologías sociales de rememoración10, las cuales cobran todo su sentido en las transformaciones de los contextos urbanos de la segunda mitad del siglo XIX. 10 Diversos estudios se han consagrado a la memoria desde esta perspectiva. Entre ellos, po- demos citar los textos de Frances Yates (2007) y Paolo Rossi (2006; [1991] 2013) sobre el arte de la memoria en la cultura europea y los de Carlo Severi (2007) para el contexto de las culturas indígenas amerindias. 150Atenea 512II Sem. 2015 REFEREnCIAS Alpers, S. (1983). The Art of Describing. Dutch Art in the Seventeenth Century. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Amunátegui, M. L. (1849). “Apuntes sobre lo que han sido las Bellas artes en Chile”. Revista de Santiago, T. III. Santiago: Imprenta Chilena, 37-38. Baxandall, M. ([1972] 2000). Pintura y vida cotidiana en el renacimiento. Bar- celona: Ediciones Gustavo Gili. Blanco, J. M. (1879). “Museo de Bellas Artes. Proyecto de uno”. Anales de la Universidad de Chile, noviembre, 393-399. Bourdieu, P. (1979). La distinction. Critique sociale du jugement. Paris: Les Édi- tions du Minuit. Emerson, R. W. (1884). Representative Men. Seven Lectures. new York: The Ri- verside Press, Cambridge. Exposición Nacional de Artes e Industria 1872. (1873). Memorias Premiadas en el Certamen y Documentos que les Sirven de Antecedentes. Publicación Oficial, Santiago de Chile. Santiago: Imprenta de la República de Jacinto núñez. Gell, A. (1998). Art and Agency. An Anthropological Theory. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Grez, V. (1878). “El traje de las santiaguinas en los siglo XVII y XVIII”. Revista Chilena. Tomo X. Santiago: Jacinto núñez Editor. Imprenta de la República. _____ . (1879). La vida santiaguina. Santiago: Imprenta Gutenberg. Grez Toso, S. ([1997]2007). De la regeneración del pueblo a la huelga general. Santiago: RIL Editores. Haskell, F. (1994). La historia y sus imágenes. El arte y la interpretación del pasa- do. Madrid: Alianza Forma. Lastarria, J. V. (1844). “Investigaciones sobre la influencia social de la conquista y del sistema colonial de los españoles en Chile. Memoria presentada por J. V. Lastarria el 22 de septiembre de 1844 en cumplimiento del artículo 28 de la ley de 19 de noviembre de 1842”. Anales de la Universidad de Chile 1843- 1844, pp. 199-271. Matta, M. A. (1875). “Rasgos biográficos de Julio Michelet. Lectura hecha en la Academia de Bellas Letras”. Revista Chilena, publicada bajo la Dirección de Miguel Luis Amunátegui y Diego Barros Arana, Tomo I, Santiago: Jacinto nuñez Editor, Imprenta de la República, 19-48. Michelet, Jules. (1893-1898). Oeuvres Complètes de Jules Michelet. Histoire de France, Tomo 8, Réforme, Paris: Ernst Flammarion Éditeur. Orrego Luco, L. (1908). Casa grande. Santiago: Zig-Zag Editores. Peirce, C. S. (1953). Letters to Lady Welby. new York: Withlock. Riegl, A. ([1901] 1992). El arte industrial tardoromano. Madrid: Visor. Rodríguez, H. (1982). Museo Histórico Nacional. Dirección de Bibliotecas, Ar- chivos y Museos. Santiago: Ministerio de Educación Pública. Rossi, P. (2006). Logic and the Art of Memory. The Quest for a Universal Langua- Atenea 512 II Sem. 2015151 ge. London - new York: Continuum International Publishing Group. _____.([1991] 2013). Il passato, la memoria, l’oblio. Bologna: Ediciones Il Mu- lino. Severi, C. (2007). Le principe de la chimére: pour une anthropologie de la mémoi- re. Paris: Éditions Rue D’Ulm, Musée du Quai Branly. Sismondi, J. Ch. L. S. de. (1836). Étude sur les Constitutions des Peuples Libres. Paris: Chez Treuttel et Wurtz Libraires. Vicuña Mackenna, B. (1873a). Catálogo razonado de la Exposición del Coloniaje. Celebrada en Santiago de Chile en setiembre de 1873. Por uno de sus miem- bros de la Comisión Directiva. Santiago: Imprenta Sud-América, de Claro y Salinas. Vicuña Mackenna, B. (1873b). El paseo de Santa Lucía. Lo que es y lo que deberá ser. Segunda memoria de los trabajos ejecutados desde el 10 de Setiembre de 1872 al 15 de marzo del presente año, presentada a la Comisión Directiva del paseo por el Intendente de Santiago. Santiago: Imprenta de la Librería del Mercurio de Tornero y Garfias. Vicuña Mackenna, B. (1873c). “La Exposición del Coloniaje. Carta Familiar a Monseñor J. Ignacio Víctor Eyzaguirre a propósito de la exposición de objetos de arte, utensilios domésticos y artefactos pertenecientes a la época del coloniaje que tendrá lugar en Santiago en setiembre de 1873”. Revista de Santiago, Santiago, 341-355. Vicuña Mackenna, B. (1875). Catálogo del Museo Histórico del Santa Lucía. Santiago: Imprenta de la República de Jacinto núñez. Vicuña Mackenna, B. (1889). Una excursión a través de la inmortalidad. Cura- zao: A. Bethencourt e Hijos Editores. Wittgenstein, L. ([1922] 2003). Tractatus lógico-philosophicus. Madrid: Alianza Editorial. Yates, F. (2007). The art of memory. London: Pimlico. Periódicos citados El Ferrocarril 7 de marzo de 1873 El Ferrocarril 18 de septiembre de 1873 El Ferrocarril 24 de septiembre de 1873. El Ferrocarril 9 de octubre de 1873. 
work_x3vj372zs5gwtpgp6lzfkejtyy	----	CSS volume 30 issue 2 Cover and Back matter Socialists of Rural Andalusia UNACKNOWLEDGED REVOLUTIONARIES OF THE SECOND REPUBLIC George A. Collier A new perspective on the Spanish Second Republic and Civil War emerges from this innovative experiment in serial ethnography. Focusing on one particular pueblo in western Andalusia, it ex- amines the Socialists' origins, organization, and ideology, ana- lyzes their accomplishments in the Second Republic and their repression in and after the Civil War, and documents their place in postwar Spanish historical memory. Illustrated. $32.50 Marriage and Inequality in Classless Societies Jane Fishburne Collier Arguing that analyses of social structure must be informed by analyses of gender, this study presents three ideal-typic models for analyzing inequality in kin-based, nonstratified societies that are commonly described as bands, tribes, or ranked societies (but not chiefdoms). 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EA8 I Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 https://www.cambridge.org/core 9 JOB 14597-0000-07 H CAMBRIDGE REV:02-17 EXP:02-17 MA SIZ: 66.03 1 0 14597 Cambridge Ethnohistory Shari ma 2-17-88 Now in Paperback from Cambridge University Press Prophets of Rebellion Millenarian Protest Movements against the European Colonial Order Michael Adas "Ranging widely over the non-Western world, Michael Adas compares five millenarian re- bellions against European colonial rule... Not often are explanation and historical detail so effectively combined as in this fine book. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 https://www.cambridge.org/core ANNOUNCING A CONFERENCE... THE INSTITUTIONALIZATION OF THE STATE: THE POLITICAL CONSTRUCTION OF CULTURAL REALITIES JUNG 2 4 - 2 8 , 1988 AT WILDER HOUSE S p o n s o r e d By SSRC COMMITTEE ON STATES AND SOCIAL STRUCTURES a n d THLDER HOUSE AT THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO TOPICS I. State Building: The Contingency of National Hegemonic Projects II. Explaining Change in International Relations from Within Regimes to New Regimes III. Ingredients of Hegemony (Culture, Ideology, Territory, Interests). INVITED PARTICIPANTS Vinod Aggarwal, David Becker, Thomas CaUaehy, Peter Cowhey, Michael Doyle, Jerrold Green, Ernst Haas, Nelson Kasfir, Robert Keohane, Steven Krasner, Margaret Levi, Uday Mehta, Douglass North, James White. FOR FURTHER INFORMATION. CONTACT David Laitin, Wilder House, University of Chicago, 5811 South Kenwood, Chicago, IL 60637 Ian Lustick, Department of Government, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N.H. 03755 Nr.2, Fall 1987 Brian V. Street: Orality and Literacy as Ideological Constructions. Jesper Svenbro: The "Voice" of Let- ters in Ancient Greece. Michael Chesnutt: Minstrel Reciters and the Enigma of the Middle English Romance. Peter Burke: The Art of Insult in Early Modern Italy. Frans Gregersen:The Conspiracy against Letters. MogensTrolle Larsen: Orientalism and the Ancient Near East. Nr.3, Spring 1988 Masao Miyoshi: The "Great Divide"Once Again: problematics of the novel and the Third World. Martin Zerlang: Juan Rolfo's lonely Storyteller. Christopher Miller: Orality through Literacy: Mande Verbal Art after the Letter. Howard Bloch: The Voice of the Dead Nightingale: Orality in the tomb of old French Literature. Anne Knudsen: Men Killed for Women's Songs. Martin Bernal. The British Utilitarians, Imperialism and the Fall of the Ancient Model for Greek Origins. Culture & History is a new interdisciplinary |ournal dedicated to the study of historical anthropology and intellectual history. It is published by the Centre for Research in the Humanities, Copenhagen Uni- versity. HISTORY Prices subscription for one year/two issues dkr. 220 single issues nr.2 dkr. 130. Museum Tusculanum Press University of Copenhagen N|alsgade 94 DK-2300 Copenhagen S Denmark. Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 https://www.cambridge.org/core Comparative Studies in Society and History is a forum for presentation and discussion of new research into problems of change and stability that recur in human societies through time or in the contemporary world. It sets up a working alliance between specialists in all branches of the social sciences and humanities. Debate and review articles bring the general reader in touch with current findings and issues. NOTES FOR C O N T R I B U T O R S Contributions may be descriptive, analytical or theoretical. Any article not in itself comparative may be accepted if it lends itself to comment that will place it in comparative perspective. Correspondence with the editors prior to the submission of articles will help to enable them to obtain such comment or a companion study. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 https://www.cambridge.org/core Volume 30 Number 2 April 1988 COMPARATIVE STUDIES IN SOCIETY AND HISTORY Editorial Foreword 197-198 Words of Authority JANET EWALD Speaking, Writing, and Authority: Explorations in and from the Kingdom of Taqali 199-224 C.J. FULLER Hinduism and Scriptural Authority in Modern Indian Law 225-248 HORACE DEWEY Russia's Debt to the Mongols in Suretyship and Collective Responsibility 249-270 Catholicism and the Frontiers of Conflict ROBERT I. BURNS, SJ The Missionary Syndrome: Crusader and Pacific Northwest Religious Expansionism 271-285 ERICK D. LANGER & ROBERT H, JACKSON Colonial and Republican Missions Compared: The Cases of Alta California and Southeastern Bolivia 286-311 THOMAS KSELMAN Funeral Conflicts in Nineteenth-Century France 312-332 CARL STRIKWERDA The Divided Class: Catholics vs. Socialists in Belgium, 1880-1914 333-359 CSSH Discussion JOHN K. THORNTON The Art of War in Angola, 1575-1680 360-378 FRANK PERLIN Disarticulation of the World: Writing India's Economic History. A Review Article 379-387 KRISTINE BRULAND "The Coming of Industrial Order." A Review Article 3 8 8 - 3 9 3 CSSH Notes 3 9 4 - 4 0 0 Cambridge University Press The Edinburgh Building, Shaftesbury Road, Cambridge CB2 1RP 32 East 57 Street, New York, N.Y. 10022 10 Stamford Road, Oakleigh, Melbourne 3166, Australia © 1988 Society for the Comparative Study of Society and History Printed in the United States of America Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:26, subject to the Cambridge https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0010417500015140 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_x7f5suzbfzarvddua2gxapqyri	----	http://jos.sagepub.com/ Journal of Sociology http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325 The online version of this article can be found at: DOI: 10.1177/1440783313481746 2013 49: 325Journal of Sociology Peter J. Howland Distinction by proxy: The democratization of fine wine Published by: http://www.sagepublications.com On behalf of: The Australian Sociological Association can be found at:Journal of SociologyAdditional services and information for http://jos.sagepub.com/cgi/alertsEmail Alerts: http://jos.sagepub.com/subscriptionsSubscriptions: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.navReprints: http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.navPermissions: http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325.refs.htmlCitations: What is This? - May 22, 2013Version of Record >> at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325 http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325 http://www.sagepublications.com http://www.sagepublications.com http://www.tasa.org.au/ http://www.tasa.org.au/ http://jos.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts http://jos.sagepub.com/cgi/alerts http://jos.sagepub.com/subscriptions http://jos.sagepub.com/subscriptions http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav http://www.sagepub.com/journalsReprints.nav http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav http://www.sagepub.com/journalsPermissions.nav http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325.refs.html http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325.refs.html http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325.full.pdf http://jos.sagepub.com/content/49/2-3/325.full.pdf http://online.sagepub.com/site/sphelp/vorhelp.xhtml http://online.sagepub.com/site/sphelp/vorhelp.xhtml http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Journal of Sociology © 2013 The Australian Sociological Association, Volume 49(2-3): 325–340 DOI:10.1177/1440783313481746 www.sagepublications.com Distinction by proxy: The democratization of fine wine Peter J. Howland Massey University, New Zealand Abstract In the 17th-century wine was transformed from a simple, bulk commodity to one distinguished by vineyard, vintage, grape varietals and the ephemerality of cellaring, and increasingly consumed in public theatres of consumption. This laid the foundations for the emergence of wine connoisseurship and a con- spicuous link with elite social distinction. In the 1970s the New World wine industries democratized the cultural and social capitals of appreciative wine consumption, while retaining its capacity to stratify. Democratization enables connoisseurship by proxy and for middle-class individuals with variable wine tastes and aspirations to readily transform their economic capital into cultural capital and thus enact distinction-signifying performances. This is significant in Martinborough, a boutique wine village renowned for high-quality wines and an objectified, performative site of middle-class distinction. In consuming fine wines Martinborough’s tourists are structurally validated in middle-class distinction, personalized tastes and reflexive individuality. Keywords: democratization, reflexive individuality, social distinction, wine Connoisseurship has power for identifying the person as well as the wine. Not knowing may deliver one into the hands of manipulators. (Douglas, 1987: 9) Since the first record of wine 5000 years ago the best wines have arguably been the preserve of the best people, although, as Bourdieu cogently argued in Distinction (2010 [1984]), what constitutes best is in all instances a mat- ter of historical, economic, cultural and social contingency. In this article I briefly examine the historical development of ‘fine wine’ connoisseurship as a form of objectified symbolic capital that denotes elite status; and how the cultural capitals of fine wine were democratized to increase domestic at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 326 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) markets in New Zealand. Democratization strategies included varietal labelling, accessible tasting notes, quality assurance mechanisms, and social access to winemakers. I also examine how within the ‘metro-rural idyll’ (Howland, 2008a: 77) of Martinborough – a rural ‘boutique wine village’ and performative site of middle-class distinction renowned for expensive, high-quality wines – democratization facilitates ready transfer of economic capital into status- signalling cultural capital, and thereby enables distinction by ‘proxy’ (Bourdieu, 2008: 50). Democratization does not supplant fine wine con- sumption as a form of elite distinction, especially as connoisseurship remains at the apex and differential status within the field of wine produc- tion, acquisition and consumption is reproduced accordingly. Elite status is objectively assigned to winemakers, critics, Masters of Wine and others with high cultural capital, and ensures entry into exclusive events such as invitation-only wine tastings on Martinborough vineyards. Absence of this capital is not significant, however, in Martinborough’s public theatres of consumption (Finkelstein, 1989), where sufficient economic capital (which remains an obvious barrier to many), the minimal cultural capital of appro- priate dress and behaviour, and an awareness that fine wine consumption is a mark of elite distinction are the primary requirements for performative participation. Democratization thus ensures the wine industry a thoroughly open market, while simultaneously retaining the mechanisms and hierar- chies of elite distinction based on connoisseurship. I also respond to Askegaard and Linnet’s call for consumer culture theory to transcend its psychologizing and individualizing tendencies to study the ‘context of the context … the structuring of macro-social explanatory frame-works within the phenomenology of lived experi- ence’ (2011: 381). These tendencies are particularly apparent in the majority of the research on wine tourism in New Zealand, conducted in tourism, marketing and management studies, and primarily focused on ‘push’ and ‘pull’ variables to identify market growth opportunities (e.g. Hall and Mitchell, 2002; Hall et al., 2000; Mitchell and Hall, 2006). Critical examination of industry-based economic and political structures is evident in geographical studies of wine production, distribution, branding and place specifics (e.g. Mitchell et al., 2012; Murray and Overton, 2011; Unwin, 1996). However, consideration of broader struc- tural influences is most apparent in the anthropological studies of Ulin (e.g. 1996, 2001) and Demossier (e.g. 2010, 2011), who canvass a wide array of discourses, representations, practices – class, power, identity, gendered, technological, etc. – in analysing French wine. My aim is to contribute by examining the structural structuring of middle-class dis- tinction and reflexive individualization or self-reflexization (Demossier, 2010: 175–93), as facilitated by strategies of democratization and con- spicuously enacted by Martinborough’s tourists. at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 327 Bourdieu in new bottles Bourdieu argues that tastes reflect particular configurations of economic, cultural, social and symbolic capital, and exist in embodied, objectified and institutionalized forms within various fields of action. Stylizations of life are therefore ‘closely linked to the different possible positions in social space and, consequently, bound up with the systems of dispositions (habitus) characteristic of different classes and class factions. Taste classifies, and it classifies the classifier’ (Bourdieu, 2010 [1984]: xxix). Furthermore, Bourdieu argues that conscious pursuit of aesthetics is ‘reserved for mem- bers of the dominant class, indeed the very top bourgeoisie, and for artists, who as the inventors and professionals of the “stylization of life” are alone able to make their art of living one of the fine arts’ (2010 [1984]: 50) – at least in 1960s France. Bourdieu recognized that self-consciousness can exist for others such as ‘sociologists’ schooled in ‘habitual reflexivity’ (Sweetman, 2003: 544), but argued it is chiefly limited to those experiencing temporary periods of crisis arising from a disjunction between habitus and field. Sweetman (2003) notes that this appears to imply the petit-bourgeois, who experience persistent failure to adapt in their high cultural capital pursuits. However the ‘new middle-classes’ (Roper, 2005: 49) operate within insti- tutions of reflexive individualism (Beck, 2002) in which self-consciousness and self-reflexivity1 routinely underpin practice. Generated within the ‘reflexive habitus’ (Sweetman, 2003: 528) of liberal education, meaning- centric occupations, elective forms of sociality (e.g. friendship, sexual) and via various forms of mobility, the new middle classes knowingly commit to pursuing CV milestones and wilfully deploy their capitals in fields where de facto autonomy (Bauman, 2000) and ideal reflexive individuality (Howland, 2008a) are likely optimized; educational and occupational advancement, life politics, self-narratives and identity projects, and in consumption, espe- cially hedonic, where personalized taste is readily expressed. Sweetman (2003) argues, however, that structured self-awareness and reflexive indi- viduality do not necessarily or routinely result in consciousness of the con- tingencies that underpin and generate reflexive habitus, which is where Bourdieu’s misrecognizing and embodied subjects are found. The straightforward relationship between class and taste has also been challenged. Postmodern blurring of culture boundaries, the over-production of signs and the plurality of sanctioned readings (Baudrillard, 2001 [1988]; Jameson, 1991) have problematized distinctions between high, middle and low culture. Peterson notes that numerous studies have also demonstrated that high-status consumption is ‘becoming increasingly diversified, inclu- sive, or omnivorous’ (2005: 261). In addition, middle-class consumers have responded to status-group and generational politics by pursuing strategies of cultural eclecticism, massification and omnivorousness in musical tastes (Peterson and Kern, 1996), reading (Zavisca, 2005) and the arts (DiMaggio and Mukhtar, 2004), while national studies have revealed specific cultural at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 328 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) and generational differences. For example, Australia’s postwar elite express a marked distaste for high-brow and exclusionary forms of culture, view leisure activities chiefly as therapeutic relief from employment and not as strategic distinction investments, and pursue omnivorous, eclectic and low- brow modes of consumption (Turner and Edmunds, 2002). Appreciative consumption by proxy, and the concordant possibility of simple, emulative, faux or even deceitful performances (Goffman, 1972 [1959]) is not com- monly canvassed. Researchers concur, however, that ‘objectified cultural capital has become a relatively weak mechanism for exclusionary class boundaries’ (Holt, 1998: 5) and that the upper class increasingly distin- guishes itself through legitimizing plurality, omnivorousness and genre- appropriate consumption (Erickson, 1996). Johnston and Baumann similarly argue that the broadening of the gour- met food repertoire in America reflects a ‘food democracy’ (2007: 166). Cultural capital and status differentiations are still operationalized, albeit through the discursive framing of foods as authentic and exotic. Moreover, these distinctions are applied to a narrow range of foods that require con- siderable cultural and economic capitals, and the high status of French food, especially haute cuisine, is retained. A similar situation exists in the casting of New World wines as quality, the retention of premier French wines as exemplars, and the widespread promotion of wine eclecticism or what Demossier calls the ‘wandering drinker’ (2005: 132). Hyper-differentiated wine During the 17th century, wines in Europe were produced, stored and sold in large wooden barrels, blended together from various vineyards, and sold predominantly under regional or varietal designations (e.g. Burgundy). The freshest wines, those procured shortly after pressing or cellared in especially large barrels, were highly valued as they were less likely to have spoiled due to oxidation2 (Johnson, 1989). However a series of 17th-century innovations radically altered wine as a material and social product. These included the 1660 establishment of dis- crete vineyards and associated wines sold under the name of a producing estate (and by vintage);3 the gradual adoption of grape-growing and wine- making techniques (e.g. rejecting mouldy grapes, using new barrels) pur- posefully aimed at producing quality wine; the mass manufacture from 1630s onwards of wine bottles that were thicker, stronger and darker; the invention of oxidation-resistant cork stoppers mid century and the cork- screw in about 1681; and finally the realization that laying wine bottles on their side further reduced oxidization (Johnson, 1989). These developments enabled wine to be transported, cellared, and to evolve additional taste characteristics in the bottle. Consequently wine was transformed into a hyper-differentiated commodity valued for its distinctive at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 329 varietal, vineyard and vintage characteristics; conspicuously consumed as mark of distinction in public theatres of consumption; transported, stored, sold and consumed as a singular commodity (i.e. by the bottle); and increas- ingly valued for its evolving and ephemeral qualities facilitated by bottle cellaring. These developments laid the foundations for the emerging middle class of the 18th and 19th centuries to emulate the consumption practices of individual aristocratic and other elites (e.g. monasteries), who, until these innovations, were the only members of society possessing the economic resources to purchase and cellar large barrels of ‘good wine’. The social development and codification (numerous books on wine tast- ing, quality, keeping and serving appeared in the first half of the 19th cen- tury) of an educated wine palate involved complex practices and discourses (Silverstein, 2006) that cast wine as a particularly aesthetic product notable for discrete tastes (including aroma, colour, clarity, texture or mouth-feel, etc.) and differences in quality arising from grape varietals, vine age, pro- duction techniques, terroir, winemaker philosophies and via evolutions over time (vintage-based and cellared). Furthermore, appreciative consumption requires optimal consumption conditions, ensuring wine is served at the ‘correct’ temperature, decanted as appropriate and so on. Wine connoisseurship also necessarily involved knowledge of ‘wine French’, or equivalencies in Spanish or Italian, to decipher labels. Furthermore labelling by region and/or vineyard – for example, Haut-Brion is Bordeaux red or claret (a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Merlot and Petit Verdot) – demanded a knowledge of variations in vineyard and regional production to enable identification of different grape varietals and blends. Lastly, but perhaps most importantly, it also required knowledge of comparative vintage quality. In late settler societies the link between appreciative wine consumption and elite status was further pronounced. These societies lacked indigenous grape varieties suitable for quality wine and wine was initially imported from Europe at considerable expense. Unsurprisingly, the primary consum- ers were elite male settlers, who regarded the appreciative consumption of wine as a particularly civilized endeavour. Ralph Waldo Emerson, the great American poet and essayist, wrote: I think wealth has lost much of its value if it has not wine. I abstain from wine only account of the expense. When I heard Mr. Sturgis had given up wine, I had the same regret that I had lately in hearing that Mr. Bowditch had broken his hip. (in Fuller, 1996: 13) While Samuel Marsden, an Anglican missionary and the first to plant wine grapes in New Zealand at KeriKeri in 1819, believed that Maori could be civilized through being taught European viniculture, agriculture and handi- crafts (Thorpy, 1971). Comparing wines and tasting notes were frequent topics of recreational conversation among elite male colonists and wine at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 330 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) consumption was considered conducive to collegial, erudite ruminations on matters such as politics. Moreover the commonplace consumption of vin- de-table wines that characterized sectors of French and British society was negligible and in New Zealand beer was the undisputed drink of the com- mon man: ‘Aotearoa might have been translated “land of the long white froth”’ (Haydn, 1997: 25). The development of the domestic wine industry in New Zealand fol- lowed a similar trajectory to other late settler societies; importation of fine French wine; foundational domestic production by Christian institutions; nascent commercial plantings that mostly produced poor-quality wines; a gradual ‘trickle down’ of appreciative consumption of French and other imported wines to emerging professional middle classes; the eventual emer- gence of a domestic industry consistently producing good-quality wines (often using grafted French vines); and the concordant establishment of domestic wine consumption as a mark of middle-class distinction (Cooper, 2002; Hadyn, 1997). The first Wine and Food Society was established in Auckland in 1954, although restaurants were not granted licences to sell wine until 1960. However wine still ‘inhabited a twilight world. Student types, intellectuals and foreigners might stash a bottle of Bakano (McWilliams’ first dry red wine) under the arm when headed for a party, but they weren’t straight living people’ (Haydn, 1997: 25). By the early 1970s, however, wine was becoming a mark of distinction among the urban middle classes and in the 1980s domestic wines began approaching interna- tional standards. Around this time, New Zealand winemakers, along with other New World producers, sought to increase domestic demand by differentiating local from imported wines. New World innovation, and especially the use of scientific technologies (e.g. temperature-controlled fermentations), was promoted as the key to consistently producing good-quality wines at sig- nificantly cheaper prices. In addition the purchase and appreciative con- sumption of local wines was democratized; an initiative one Martinborough winemaker said was prompted by ‘consumer demand’ and reflected how many self-taught local winemakers were ‘learning about and approaching wine’. Democratized wines Most significant was the introduction of varietal labelling in addition to vineyard and vintage information. Single varietals such as Pinot Noir and Sauvignon Blanc, and blends such as Cabernet Sauvignon/ Merlot, were identified as such on front labels (e.g. ‘Ata Rangi Martinborough Pinot Noir, 2010’) thereby relieving consumers of acquiring knowledge of vine- yard and regional intricacies that still characterize most French wine labels. This was complemented by tasting notes, brix levels, and other relevant at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 331 information (e.g. food accompaniment suggestions) on back labels. This type of information is also readily available, often in expanded form, on vineyard websites4 and is routinely proffered in restaurant menus and by sommeliers. The cultural capitals of appreciative consumption are also readily acces- sible on websites,5 through wine clubs (that only require payment of club dues to ensure membership) or via the guidance of winemakers, wine mer- chants and other professionals. Furthermore in public theatres of consump- tion sommeliers and waiters will ideally ensure wine is served at the appropriate temperature, in optimal glassware, and routinely suggest appo- site food matches. Discernment of quality has also been significantly democratized via assurance mechanisms such as critic reviews/ratings and wine show awards that are widely reported in lifestyle magazines, on vineyard websites6 and via the display of award certificates in cellar doors. Quality ratings in the form of stars (one to five) and medals (gold, silver, bronze) are advertised via stickers attached to the front of wine bottles, enabling easy identifica- tion of quality wine on supermarket shelves. Many tourists said they were regularly motivated to purchase specific wines on the basis of awards or favourable reviews: ‘So many Martinborough wines are of such good qual- ity that an award or a really great review can help you make a decision’ (female; mid 20s). An award from a renowned overseas show (e.g. the International Wine and Spirit Competition) or favourable review from a prominent overseas critic, especially Robert Parker (America), were regarded as even more noteworthy. Guided by varietal labels, tasting notes and quality ratings a consumer needs only economic capital, literacy and an awareness that wine consumption is a middle-class disposition to purchase a bottle of good wine and thereby display their social status. Another democratization strategy was tiered wines that enable consum- ers with different levels of economic capital to purchase wines from renowned vineyards. For example, Martinborough Vineyard sells Te Ara Pinot Noir for $35NZ, Martinborough Vineyard Pinot Noir for $85NZ and, in ‘exceptional’ years, Martinborough Vineyard Reserve Pinot Noir for $175. Lower-tiered wines are frequently promoted as being produced from younger vines and thus purposefully ‘designed’ for early drinking. However they also share in the distinction of being produced in the same terroir, vintage conditions and by the same winemaker as top-tier wines. Accordingly consumers can engage, at ‘bargain prices’, the elite distinction ascribed to drinking wines from top vineyards. Some notable French producers have followed this initiative. For example, Haut-Brion introduced a vintage ‘sec- ond wine’, Château Bahans Haut-Brion (now named Le Clarence de Haut- Brion), in 1976.7 As a form of niche consumption (Rouse, 1995), tiered production gradates commodities in quality and price to provide a range of market entry points, all of which are promotionally celebrated as makers of at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 332 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) valued social distinction. Furthermore, the purchase of good wine is also ‘democratized’ via the relative inexpense of purchasing singular bottles or glasses of wine (in restaurants). Social capitals have also been democratized, especially access to high- status experts such as winemakers. In France systems of land tenure (unfenced patchwork of vines), instrumental beliefs about rurality and grape production, and the collective nature of wine production, typically means that the village is the location of production facilities and the recep- tion/office often doubles as the site of wine tourism. Accordingly, vineyard visits are usually absent. This contrasts with Australia and New Zealand where romanticized notions of rurality, individualized ownership, bounded/ fenced vineyards, and wineries, cellar doors and winemakers’ domestic residences situated on vineyards, means that in situ vineyard visits are a valued norm of wine tourism (Mitchell et al., 2012). Most Martinborough vineyards have cellar doors open to the public in which the winemaker or cellar-door hosts interact with tourists keen to sample wines in situ. Winemakers also regularly host public events such as wine tastings, vintage releases, and wine and food festivals, where the pri- mary criteria for entry are individual interest and/or payment of an entry fee. For many enthusiasts meeting a renowned winemaker is a prized form of social capital. In addition winemakers are routinely biographized and cast as ideal reflexive individuals in various media (e.g. lifestyle magazines, vineyard websites), and their wine-making motivations, experiences and philosophies are celebrated alongside their urbane domestic homes, envi- able family lives and personal interests such as native tree conservation. These strategies have, in part, influenced the growth of domestic wine production and consumption in New Zealand. From 1990 to 2011 the registered vineyards of the New Zealand Winegrowers Association rose from 131 to 698; total producing area increased from 5417 to 33,600 hect- ares; annual production from 44 to 235 million litres; annual domestic sales from 38.2 to 66.3 million litres; and per capita consumption from 12.2 to 15.1 litres annually. This is contrary to France and other Mediterranean countries, where per capita wine consumption has been declining for 30 years (Demossier, 2010: 70–100). Democratized consumption in Martinborough Martinborough is a small, but notable site of quality wine production in New Zealand, with 40 vineyards registered as members of the New Zealand Winegrowers Association. Most are boutique enterprises producing less than 200,000 litres of wine annually and routinely promote the ‘hand- picked’, artisanal qualities of their wines. Pinot Noir is the principal variety grown and high-quality Martinborough pinots retail at $65–$85NZ per at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 333 750 ml bottle (compared with Marlborough pinots at $30–$35NZ). There are more than 100 accommodation providers, headlined by the five-star Martinborough Hotel (circa 1883), although most are self-contained ‘homestays’. Martinborough also boasts designer clothing stores, jewellers, delicatessens, health spas, cafés and restaurants.8 I have argued elsewhere that Martinborough, which is situated one hour’s drive from Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city, is collusively staged by tourists, tourism operators, winemakers, lifestyle magazines and others as a metro-rural idyll; an enchanted, performative site in which popular notions of a vernacular rural idyll (e.g. cohesive farming families, ‘clean, green’ countryside) are discursively deployed to provide a corrobo- rating setting and moral foundation that validates the tourists’ middle-class urbanity and ideal reflexive individuality (Howland, 2008a). This routinely involves the conspicuous, leisured consumption of fine wines, gourmet foods, luxury accommodation and the elective sociality of friends, romantic partners and families (although most tourists holiday without their depen- dent children; Abramovici, 2002; Howland, 2008b). As an objectified site of leisured, hedonic consumption, many tourists regard a Martinborough holiday as ‘time out’ from the ‘daily grind’ of metropolitan employment and domesticity, and as an opportunity to enjoy de facto autonomy through personally selecting and sampling wines and other urbane offerings. The majority of tourists are new middle class, Pakeha or New Zealand European, and residents of Wellington. They are typical of wine tourists throughout New Zealand in being ‘usually 30–50 years of age, in the moderate to high income bracket and coming from within or in close proximity to the wine region itself’ (Mitchell et al., 2000: 121; also Alonso et al., 2007). Most are ‘generalist’ wine tourists (Mitchell, 2004) and range from hangers-on (i.e. with little or no interest in wine), wine novices, wine-curious (i.e. with limited experience and mild interest) and enthusiasts keen to add to their wine experi- ences. Only a small minority exhibit or aspire to achieve connoisseurship or advanced appreciative consumption and their numbers are easily overshad- owed by the various professionals (e.g. wine writers, chefs, etc.) who regularly visit Martinborough. One winemaker told me: Sixty, seventy percent of tourists are either novices here to learn or have some basic wine knowledge and know that Martinborough produces top-quality wines, so they are also here to learn more about Martinborough wines, about specific varieties such as Pinot and about specific vineyards. Only a minority are real enthusiasts, but this number is growing all the time. Objectively renowned for fine wine production, Martinborough is engaged by enthusiasts, connoisseurs and wine/food professionals as a site where their dispositions of wine appreciation are routinely, even disinterestedly, correlated with practice and therefore structurally re-legitimated. For the majority of tourists, however, advanced wine appreciation is either beyond at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 334 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) their experience or aspiration. Their cultural capitals range from a minimal level of awareness that appreciative wine consumption is a signifying prac- tice of middle-class status through to somewhat nuanced cognizance of different varietal characteristics (e.g. dry to sweet Rieslings). Most were aware that the consumption of Martinborough wines is primarily focused on aesthetics and not for the purposes of intoxication; that consumption in restaurants, cafés and with holidaying friends generally involves certain codes of dress (ranging from ‘stylish causal’ to formal ‘dressing up’); and that disorderly behaviour resulting from wine intoxication is inappropriate, although tolerated when it leads to jovial discourse or convivial ‘philo- sophical discussions’. Tourists ranged widely in aesthetic sensibilities and aspirations. Many said they were able to identify basic taste characteristics such as sweet, dry, etc., but were mostly guided by tasting notes and commonly attempted to identify these when drinking wine. A few dismissed connoisseurship as ‘pre- tentious posing’, however others expressed admiration and delight in being able to personally identify and experience the tastes identified by experts. Moreover, the majority said they were content with their current levels of appreciative consumption and that acquiring connoisseurship or advanced appreciation was either too much ‘hard work’, ‘too costly’ or would involve too much time. For the majority of tourists Martinborough is chiefly engaged as an objectified site of middle-class distinction in which their var- ied capacities of appreciative wine consumption are facilitated by democra- tization and singular commodity strategies. Many stated that when holidaying in Martinborough they frequently ‘treated’ themselves (Howland, 2010) by purchasing the ‘most expensive wine’ they could afford or ‘justify’. This was based on the assumption that the most expensive was most probably the best quality. This strategy com- monly manifested in purchasing single glasses of expensive wine in a local restaurant or café to accompany a meal or buying single bottles directly from a vineyard. This compares with how many tourists described their wine purchasing for everyday consumption, when they were mostly guided by price and sought out ‘supermarket specials’ on award winning or heavily discounted wines. Interestingly, some felt that ‘relying too heavily on gold medals’ could reveal a personal lack of sophisticated knowledge. Consequently if they felt a social occasion warranted it (e.g. attended by wine enthusiasts), they would be guided by a local wine merchant to buy the best wines within ‘certain price ranges’. Many stated they were routinely guided by Martinborough winemakers or cellar-door representatives, waiters and sommeliers, or by holidaying friends with general or specific wine knowledge: ‘I mostly take the advice of the winemaker or someone in our group will suggest a wine in my price range. It’s the same when I go to a restaurant. I usually follow the waiter’s recommendation’ (female, 40s). One tourist I interviewed in Martinborough at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 335 and later at his Wellington home, was a wealthy, self-employed business owner, who confessed to knowing ‘nothing about wine’ but who, on the advice of his more knowledgeable business partner and local wine mer- chants, regularly bought cases of quality wines. He had a well-stocked cellar at his home that included top Martinborough wines (Dry River, Ata Rangi), quality New Zealand (Felton Road, Te Mata) and Australian (Penfold Grange) wines. Many said, however, they would try anything, mostly to expand their wine knowledge and experience, but also on the assumption that all Martinborough wines were of high quality. Others knew the variety or style of wines they personally liked and dis- liked (e.g. ‘dry’, ‘fruity’) and acted on advice on this basis: ‘It is a matter of finding out what you personally like and don’t like and then just following your own tastes’ (male, aged 37). Some were adamant in their preference for second-tier Martinborough wines, and especially with regard to Pinot Noir, which they felt was ‘lighter’ and more ‘easy drinking’ than the more exalted, expensive first-tier wines. Some had specific Martinborough favou- rites they repeatedly purchased: ‘My favourite is TK’s sav (Te Kairangi’s Sauvignon Blanc).…. I have tried other Martinborough wines, but for me TK sav is the best. It’s good quality and real value for money’ (male, aged 54). This discourse of ‘value for money’ or best wine within a ‘price range’ was relatively commonplace. Martinborough’s tourists produced a wide range of reflexive narratives of wine tastes, aspirations and distinctions. Many were content with mini- mal wine knowledge; some aspired to connoisseurship, but most did not; many admired and sought advice from others with advanced wine experi- ences, with some following this fully, but many others only doing so in relation to already established personal tastes; many regularly sought to consume new wines, while others stuck to their personal lists of the ‘tried and true’; while some thought that connoisseurship was overly subjective or pretentious. Yet the vast majority clearly shared the notion that appreciative consumption of good wine – which was an objectified norm in Martinborough – was a signifier of middle-class distinction and status. Furthermore, in signalling this to accompanying friends and an imagined audience of observing middle-class others (cf. Campbell, 1995) many gladly relied on democratization strategies that transformed their economic capital into cultural capital and thus also into distinction by proxy. Elite wine status could, however, warrant individuals’ entry to invitation- only wine tastings on vineyards, afford opportunities to dine with local winemakers, or secure much sought-after VIP tickets to Toast Martinborough (the public release annually sells out in minutes). It also routinely mani- fested in heightened status amidst friends and colleagues who might seek out a knowledgeable individual’s wine perspectives or who would exclu- sively share ‘special’ (i.e. expensive, high-quality or rare) wines with other appreciative enthusiasts. However, status lack did not greatly impact in at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 336 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) public consumption sites where economic and minimal cultural capitals were the primary determinant of participation; besides, celebrity or VIP status acquired outside of the cultural field of wine was just as likely to translate into better service or fringe benefits (including obtaining Toast Martinborough tickets). Variations in wine-based distinctions and status did not therefore function as a mechanism of social inclusion, exclusion or derision in the front stage (Goffman, 1972 [1959]) of Martinborough’s restaurants, etc. By contrast tourists’ varied personal tastes and aspirations were rou- tinely and publicly validated by industry representatives. In my field- work on a Martinborough vineyard I only once observed a cellar-door host directly oppose a customer’s tastes (subtle attempts to influence tastes were commonplace). This occurred when a tourist asserted that some plum wines were equal to Cabernet Sauvignon. The cellar host objected on the grounds that fruit wines lacked the complexity of taste and structure of grape wines. Even so the tourist (male, mid 30s) remained unmoved and countered: ‘I’m not sure about that, some of the plum wines I’ve tasted are pretty good, although I guess everyone has their own tastes.’ This ended the disagreement, although the cellar host later confided to me when the shop was empty that tourist had ‘clearly lacked taste’. Negative back-stage appraisals such as this were not uncommon. Nevertheless tourists’ personal tastes were habitually affirmed in restaurants, cafés, etc. and furthermore appeared to function as an unassailable default position whenever friends disagreed over the merits of different wines. Tourists therefore routinely experienced the ‘customer is always right’ ethos common within retailing and individual- ized dining out (Sloan, 2004), and had their reflexive individuality affirmed in terms of autonomy of choice and the apparent irrefutability of personalized, albeit thoroughly middle-class, tastes. Conclusion In the 1970s, New World wine industries sought to differentiate domestic wines from their foreign counterparts and profitably develop local markets. This was pursued, in part, by democratizing the cultural capitals of appre- ciative consumption, by making winemakers socially accessible and via a variety of user-friendly avenues through which consumers could learn about wine’s complexities. Democratization, along with the capacity to purchase wine as a singular commodity, enables the ready transfer of eco- nomic capital into cultural capital. It also enables consumers with variable wine knowledge, experience and aspirations to partake in performances of appreciative wine consumption by proxy. The ‘inferred cultural aptitude of the consumer’ (Holt, 1998: 5) remains paramount, although with democratization the primary aptitudes are economic at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ Howland: Distinction by proxy 337 capital and minimal cultural capital awareness that appreciative consumption of fine wine denotes middle-class status. Accordingly, performances by proxy, which potentially run the gamut from simple to faux or deceitful, can be know- ingly deployed as significations of middle-class distinction and status. As such, democratization enables appreciative consumption to effectively trickle down as a denotation of status, while still retaining the social stratifications and hier- archy that result from connoisseurship. Although Bourdieu’s theory of tastes is a ‘theory of signifying prac- tices rather than signifying objects’ (Holt, 1997: 101), taste nevertheless remains ‘the practical operator of the transmutation of things into dis- tinct and distinctive signs’ (Bourdieu, 2010 [1984]: 170). Objects do signify, but it is signification of acquired capitals rather than the pure gaze of Kantian aesthetics. This is especially evident in Martinborough, an objectified, performative site of middle-class distinction, in which considerable attention is focused on the signifying object of fine wine. The majority of tourists know that wine consumption is primarily focused on sober, aesthetic appreciation and that performance of such – by proxy or bona fide – signifies middle-class status; also that this is all that is required for social inclusion into Martinborough’s public the- atres of consumption. Tourists also share awareness of, and commitment to, personalized wine tastes and aspirations, which are structurally cast by the wine and hospital- ity industries as socially worthwhile, irrespective of their variations. In knowingly pursuing personalized tastes and elective socialities, Martinborough tourists therefore experience and reaffirm one of the key ideals of reflexive individuality; de facto autonomy. Reflexive individuality is a key disposition of the new middle classes, generated within reflexive habitus that routinely advocates self-consciousness and reflexivity; disposi- tions particularly apparent in tourists’ personalized narratives of wine con- sumption and distinction. My analysis of Martinborough wine tourists reveals self-aware, self-narrat- ing and distinction-conscious subjects who are structurally enabled by the strategies of democratization to engage a range of performative practices by proxy with respect to the appreciative consumption of fine wine and thus to display middle-class status. Despite the apparent emancipatory dynamics of democratization and personalization, arguably these processes primarily advance the profit motives of the wine industry and consequently serve to maintain middle-class belief in, and commitment to, the neoliberal games of meritocracy, reflexive individuality and social hierarchy. Funding This research received no specific grant from any funding agency in the public, com- mercial, or not-for-profit sectors. at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 338 Journal of Sociology 49(2-3) Notes 1 Reflexivity is a universal psycho-social process through which individuals gener- ate an evolving, distinguishable sense of self that manifests (implicitly and explic- itly) as I and me compared to we or them (Quinn, 2006; Sökefeld, 1999). However, contemporary institutions routinely compel a reflexivity firmly rooted in the dispositions of western individualism. 2 Sweet wines with high sugar content (e.g. Tokay) or fortified with alcoholic spir- its (e.g. Madeira) were also esteemed for their preservative capacities. 3 The first was Haut-Brion from Bordeaux in 1660, which was sold for seven shil- lings a bottle when two shillings was standard for a good wine at London’s first restaurant, Pontack’s Head (circa 1666). Both Haut-Brion and Pontack’s Head were established by Arnaud de Pontac, the first president of the Bordeaux regional parliament. 4 For example, ‘Tasting Notes’ and ‘Vintage reports’ at www.atarangi.co.nz (accessed August 2012). 5 See: www.wine.about.com (accessed August 2012). 6 For example, www.atarangi.co.nz – ‘Reviews’ (accessed August 2012). 7 See: www.haut-brion.com (accessed August 2011). 8 See: see www.martinborough.com References Abramovici, M. (2002) ‘What Is behind the Romance of the Grape? 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Culinary Taste: Consumer Behaviour in the International Restaurant Sector. Oxford: Butterworth Heinemann. Silverstein, M. (2006) ‘Old Wine: New Ethnographic Lexicography’, Annual Review of Anthropology 35: 481–96. Sweetman, P. (2003) ‘Twenty-first-century Disease? Habitual Reflexivity or the Reflexive Habitus’, Sociological Review 51(4): 528–49. Thorpy, F. (1971) Wine in New Zealand. Auckland: Collins Bros and Co. Turner, B.S. and J. Edmunds (2002) ‘The Distaste of Taste: Bourdieu, Cultural Capital and the Australian Postwar Elite’, Journal of Consumer Culture 2(2): 219–40. Ulin, R.C. (1996) Vintages and Traditions: An Ethnohistory of Southwest French Wine Cooperatives. Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press. Ulin, R.C. (2001) ‘Work as Cultural Production: Labor and Self-identity among Southwest French Wine Growers’, Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute 8(4): 691–712. Unwin, T. (1996) Wine and the Vine: An Historical Geography of Viticulture and the Wine Trade. London: Routledge. Zavisca, J. (2005) ‘The Status of Cultural Omnivorism: A Case Study of Reading in Russia’, Social Forces 84(2): 1233–55. Biographical note Peter J. Howland is an anthropologist who has a keen interest in class-based practices of consumption, identity, place, elective sociality and social distinc- tion. He is the editor of the forthcoming Social, Cultural and Economic Impacts of Wine in New Zealand (London: Routledge). Aside from an ongoing interest in wine, he has also conducted research on Lotto gam- bling, self-gifting and, most recently, on dying, death and remembrance. Address: Massey University, Private Bag 11 222, Palmerston North, 4442, New Zealand. [email: pjhowland@xtra.co.nz] at Vienna University Library on November 13, 2013jos.sagepub.comDownloaded from http://jos.sagepub.com/ http://jos.sagepub.com/ 
work_xevwf376rjeczjxg6jsnnymmxm	----	aggliko-exofillo-16 “The Horror of Self-Reflection”: Writing, Cancer, and Terrorism in Philip Roth’s American Pastoral Christopher Gair This essay provides a re-reading of the relationship between Philip Roth’s American Pastoral (1997) and the canonical texts of the American Renaissance. It focuses on a selection of well known passages, to suggest the ways in which Roth borrows the form of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s work, the content of Herman Melville’s and the language of Walt Whitman’s. Rather than accepting the (until recently) conventional view of these artists as offering unifying definitions of a hermetically- sealed national identity, the essay reads American Pastoral as a re- enactment of the sense of crisis that permeates the work of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Hawthorne, and Melville, and argues that the conflict that Roth depicts tearing apart the post-World War II United States can be viewed as an inevitable consequence even of the more optimistic visions proffered by Whitman. Noting the manner in which Roth revisits the American Renaissance link of body and nation, the essay reads cancer as a metaphor for the condition of the nation in late-industrial America. In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befal me in life,—no disgrace, no calumny, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. —Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Nature” (1836) I celebrate myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. —Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself” (1855) https://doi.org/10.26262/gramma.v16i0.6437 https://doi.org/10.26262/gramma.v16i0.6437 Shadows present foreshadowing deeper shadows to come. —Herman Melville, “Benito Cereno” (1855) he 2007 publication of Exit Ghost appears to represent the final outing for Philip Roth’s master chronicler of American life, Nathan Zuckerman. Blighted not only by the incontinence and impotence that he has endured since undergoing surgery for prostate cancer, Zuckerman is now handicapped by an increasingly unreliable memory, a bitingly cruel impediment for a man whose sense of self is given meaning by the shaping of words into narrative. By 2004, when the book is staged, Zuckerman has long been living in semi-isolation in the Berkshires, in “a small house on a dirt road in the deep country” where he does not watch television, own a cell phone or a computer, and appears to have no knowledge of contemporary popular culture and little interest even in such seismic events as 9/11 (Exit Ghost 3). While there is clearly much that could be said about Exit Ghost and Roth’s vision of the role of the author in the United States in the opening decade of the twenty-first century, my interest here lies in the retrospective light the novel casts on American Pastoral (1997), an earlier meditation on the relationship between the individual and terrorism. Significantly, in Exit Ghost, Zuckerman also reminds us of why he had decided to leave the city for good: he had been the victim of a series of death threats—that is, “the danger of fatal attack” (53). As a consequence of his move, he is “taken hold of” by “the habit of solitude” (58), a Thoreauvian gesture that sees Zuckerman rarely venturing even to the local village, let alone to New York. The reason for his relocation could also be read as suggestive of the basis for Zuckerman’s interest in terrorism at the time that American Pastoral was written, and contextualises his construction of a narrative that deals with the responses of individual and nation to events that disturb complacent notions of personal and national identity. As the reference to Henry David Thoreau hints, such alignment of self and nation sees American Pastoral re-explore the classic trope of the American Renaissance, in which the (male) body and soul are equated with a United States that is represented as an equally organic entity. Several critics have called attention to the degree to which Roth alludes to and reinscribes both this and other elements of the American Renaissance in American Pastoral, I Married a Communist (1998) and The Human Stain (2000), the three millennial novels that are generally viewed as a triptych. 236 Christopher Gair T Catherine Morley, Ross Posnock, David Brauner, and Derek Parker Royal have all focussed on the manner in which these books mark a relocation of Zuckerman from his position as a self-consciously Jewish American author to a writer combining an ongoing ethnic literary identity with efforts to subscribe to a “canonical” or “national” literary genealogy. Thus, they have stressed such factors as Zuckerman’s move to the sometime home of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville in the Berkshires, his name’s (Nathan) evocation of Hawthorne, the Emersonian elements of his use of nature and the ways in which central tropes redeploy Hawthorne’s own weight-laden symbols, especially the letter “A” worn by Hester Prynne. The key difference, for almost all these scholars, and one perhaps rooted in the feeling that America has reached the end of the industrial age that was still in its infancy when Walt Whitman was celebrating himself and all around, is that this body—despite initial indications to the contrary—is in decline, and forced to encounter a series of ever-deepening physical and spiritual crises. Morley is representative, therefore, when she claims that “Roth situates his writing within this tradition but simultaneously deconstructs a national canon which has perpetuated the notion of a certain attainable and singular ‘American-ness’ ” (86). For Morley, the point is linked to another key difference, since Roth’s “suffusion of this nineteenth-century tradition with a transnational consciousness … works to challenge the idiom of nationalism” (88).1 “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 237 1. Unsurprisingly, given his extensive list of publications on nineteenth-century American literature, Ross Posnock is the one critic to avoid such over-simplification of the complexities of the American Renaissance and of Philip Roth’s response to it. He is sensitive, for example, to the ways in which Roth, in “novel after novel” echoes Herman Melville’s moral exposé of the “fantasy of purity” and to the ties between the “moral and epistemological dimensions” of Roth and Ralph Waldo Emerson’s writing (”Purity and Danger” 86–87). Although Catherine Morley offers a traditional summary of the American Renaissance in her chapter on Roth, she demonstrates more awareness of its complexities and nuances earlier in her study, assessing the degree to which recent scholars have identified transnational themes alongside criticisms (rather than endorsements) of national myths (See Morley 37–45). I am not arguing, of course, that Roth is drawn to (and drawing upon) the American Renaissance to the exclusion of other literary genealogies. Most obviously, there are debts to John Milton, Homer, Marcel Proust and to a pastoral tradition wider than its localised instancing in mid-nineteenth-century New England and New York. In addition to these much cited examples—and once more in the light of Exit Ghost’s (2007) reiteration of Zuckerman’s youthful fascination with Joseph Conrad—it is tempting to turn detective and suggest that moments of grave seriousness in American Pastoral (1997) involve playful intertextual allusions. The ill-fated, While there is no doubt that the canonical texts of the American Renaissance were often used in this manner by scholars shaping a founding American Studies paradigm at the height of the Cold War in the 1950s, the above attempts to view Roth as moving somehow beyond an American Renaissance that is defined as celebratory and unifying are highly problematic. A quick glance at some of the key themes and central texts of the mid-nineteenth century both illustrates a far more complex, fragmentary, anxious and (in a transnational sense) permeable canon and suggests the reasons why Roth should wish to proffer a reconsideration of them at the close of the millennium.2 To begin with Ralph Waldo Emerson is to see how a writer rightly seen as the midwife at the birth of a national literary tradition simultaneously doubted the possibilities of a live birth. We should remember that Emerson’s most famous early essays emerge from a sense of crisis: “Nature” (1836) begins with expressions of anxiety about contemporary abilities to see the world “face to face” and with bleak contrasts to the “original relationship to the universe” experienced in the past (Baym, ed. 1120); “The American Scholar” (1837) represents “Man … metamorphosed into a thing, into many things,” a reifying process with particularly damaging consequences for the artist, with “Man Thinking” transformed into the “bookworm” (Baym, ed. 1139, 1141); and “Self-Reliance” (1841) warns of the dangers of a society already becoming over-civilised, in which individuals are afraid to trust their own genius. While Zuckerman might initially be seen to fail one half of Emerson’s call for self-trust, since—even if he places his ideas in the world in the form of his novels—his vision emerges in the solitude of his Berkshires retreat rather than in defiance of the world of the “mob,” we should remember that his work has evidently reached beyond the “decorous and prudent” “rage of the cultivated classes” and has aroused his would be killer, the embodiment of what Emerson labels the “unintelligent brute force that lies at the bottom of society” (Baym, ed. 1167) and which will seek to hunt down and destroy the forms of hyper-developed selfhood that posit a challenge to American individualism. 238 Christopher Gair exploited terrorist, Merry Levov, has a stutter reminiscent of that equally manipulated adolescent, Stevie, the simple-minded brother of Winnie Verloc, and his disintegration as an inadvertent suicide bomber foreshadows Merry’s considerably slower loss of mind and body. 2. Alan Heimert suggests convincingly that the period 1848-51—that is, the moment when Moby-Dick (1851) and other quintessential American Renaissance texts were being composed—marked “the very months of America’s profoundest political crisis” (506). Three further examples—Hawthorne, Melville, and Whitman—serve to illustrate just what is at stake in Roth’s indebtedness to the American Renaissance. For now, I will stick to a handful of well known passages, to suggest the ways in which Roth borrows the form of Hawthorne’s work, the content of Melville’s and the language of Whitman’s. I should stress that this usage is, of course, considerably more blurred than such a straightforward division implies (and my reading here will involve some slippage between the divisions), but—given constraints of space here—it should suffice to illustrate the point. Following Hawthorne’s famous distinction in his Preface to The House of the Seven Gables (1851), it would seem prudent to regard American Pastoral (along with I Married a Communist and The Human Stain) as a “romance” rather than a “novel.” For Hawthorne, the Romance, must [as a work of art] rigidly submit itself to laws, and while it sins unpardonably so far as it may swerve aside from the truth of the human heart—has fairly a right to present that truth under circumstances, to a great extent, of the writer’s own choosing or creation. If he thinks fit, also, he may so manage his atmospherical medium as to bring out or mellow the lights and deepen or enrich the shadows of the picture. He will be wise, no doubt, to make a very moderate use of the privilege here stated, and, especially, to mingle the Marvellous rather as a slight, delicate, and evanescent flavor, than as any portion of the actual substance of the dish offered to the Public. He can hardly be said, however, to commit a literary crime, even if he disregard this caution. (Baym, ed. 1494) The tale of Swede Levov initially appears to be unpromising material for such a Romance: when Zuckerman meets him for dinner in 1995, in response to the Swede’s letter asking for help in writing a tribute to his recently deceased father, he finds it impossible to penetrate a stupefying blandness, where “all that rose to the surface was more surface” (23). Indeed, Zuckerman admits as much, stating that “the guy cannot be cracked by thinking. That’s the mystery of his mystery” (30), “I could not decide whether that blankness of his was like snow covering something or snow covering nothing” (37) and “[t]his guy is the embodiment of nothing” (39). Nevertheless, American Pastoral is a book that strives to unearth “the truth of the human heart” and one in which Zuckerman is happy to acknowledge his own enriching of the shadows of the story he narrates. “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 239 Were it not for one final point, it could well be argued that the claims for the Romance laid out by Hawthorne could equally be applied to almost all fiction genres, since most would profess to be articulating some kind of epistemological “truth.” American Pastoral, however, bears an uncanny formal resemblance to The Scarlet Letter (1850), Hawthorne’s most famous work, and the one which most obviously engages with the relationship of America’s past to its present and the role of the author-artist in (for Hawthorne) the 1640s and 1840s. Hawthorne, of course, is drawn to the tale of Hester Prynne through a combination of frustration with his life as a customs house officer (surrounded by characters as apparently depthless as the Swede), historical curiosity and moral sympathy. It is the coupling of Surveyor Pue’s brief account of the facts of Hester’s life with the “sensation … as of burning heat” (Baym, ed. 1369) that Hawthorne feels when he places the ancient letter “A” against his chest that prompts him to imagine and create his own tale. Likewise, it is the fragments of the Swede’s life revealed by his brother Jerry when he encounters Zuckerman at their class reunion—recounted across a few pages near the start of American Pastoral—that, when paired with the emotional reaction that Zuckerman feels when he dances to Johnny Mercer’s 1940s hit, “Dreams,” triggers not only the realisation that he has been entirely wrong about the Swede, but also the decision to recreate his life story through a Hawthornesque act of imagination, in which Zuckerman tries “to take the measure of a person of apparent blankness and innocence and simplicity, chart his collapse, make of him, as time wore on, the most important figure of my life” (74). Akin to Hawthorne, who establishes not only his own, personal, affinity with Hester, but also the degree to which her tale of alienation resonates with the wider experiences of artists two centuries later, Zuckerman looks to the (more recent) past as a way of explaining the American present and the author’s role within it at a moment of personal and national crisis. And, like Hawthorne, Zuckerman begins his tale with an account of how he came to inhabit the margins of American social life and how this marginalisation— for both, a step involving a combination of personal choice and enforcement by others, since Hawthorne is fired from his job and Zuckerman is threatened by a crazed reader—is the enabling condition for the creation of the fictions that follow. Finally, once Hawthorne and Zuckerman have discovered the fragments of their tales, they both become invisible, versions of Emerson’s “transparent eyeball” able to “see all” (Baym, ed. 1112), but doing nothing to remind the reader of their presence as creators of a fictional world. 240 Christopher Gair But while Hawthorne provides the formal model for American Pastoral, it is Melville who offers a fuller precursor of its themes. While Morley and Brauner suggest that the American Renaissance is characterised by the “normative nationalist paradigms of the pastoral” (Morley 87), Melville should surely be seen as the supreme example of an American author working to deconstruct these paradigms. Although, again, this is not the place to develop the point at length, we should recall that Melville’s now hyper-canonical masterpiece, Moby-Dick (1851) was conceived and written in the aftermath of revolutions across Europe, the United States’ annexation of Texas, the California gold rush, the Clay Compromise, the Fugitive Slave Law and the rapid acceleration of the American industrial revolution. This convergence of local, national and international crises is represented elliptically by Melville in a book that (despite the claims of early Americanists such as Richard Chase) refuses to provide simple models of nationhood. Instead, as befits a work by an author whose knowledge of international literatures and history is almost as impressive as Roth’s, Melville generates a transnational universe aboard the Pequod, in which the three mates and their harpooners represent the national and international intersections of American economic imperialism and a crew of “mariners, renegades and castaways” (Moby-Dick 114) from around the globe resist the nationalising efforts of the officer class.3 Melville’s response to the notion that the pastoral represents some kind of unshakable nationalist paradigm is equally sceptical. Pierre, or, the Ambiguities (1852) is the American literary text that most overtly anticipates the “counterpastoral” (American Pastoral 86) central themes of “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 241 3. Michael Paul Rogin offers the most detailed and incisive reading of Moby-Dick’s relation to the political crises of the period. In addition, he develops an argument, first suggested by Heimert, pointing out that the harpooners on the Pequod are members of the three races exploited by American sectional interests in the nineteenth century. Stubb, who speaks in the Western idiom, has an Indian for his squire; Flask, a diminutive Southerner, perches on the Negro Daggoo’s shoulders, just as the Southern economy rested on the labours of black slaves; and Starbuck, the ship’s owners’ representative, and loyal to New England codes, has a native from the Pacific isles to harpoon his whales. It was precisely this sectional, racial division of labour which promoted capitalist development and political harmony in the first half of the nineteenth century, and it was the breakdown of such a relationship that ultimately led to the American Civil War (Rogin 102–51). For a reading of Moby-Dick that anticipates the transnational turn of recent scholarship, see James, Mariners, Renegades and Castaways: Herman Melville and the World We Live In. 16 American Pastoral in its systematic deconstruction of the notion that the pastoral can ever offer a sustainable and viable model of national identity.4 Pierre’s opening chapters represent an earlier version of the world that Swede Levov attempts to establish in Old Rimrock and Pierre’s naïve, youthful oneness with the natural world foreshadows the Swede’s fantasies of Johnny Appleseed traversing the country in a narrative that transcends religious or racial grounds. But, in the same way that the forces of history intrude upon the Swede’s fantasy, Pierre is forced to confront the artificiality of the “natural” order by the discovery of Isabel, his dark- complexioned and previously unknown half-sister, in a narrative twist that would seem to allegorise the presence of miscegenation and slavery in the United States and the—for Melville, as for many other writers at the time— inexorable slide toward Civil War. Pierre’s later wanderings through a dystopian metropolis when—as a writer of what are viewed as unacceptable narratives about the cosmos—he is hounded from respectable society, also bear strong resemblance to the representations of post-industrial Newark in American Pastoral and to Roth’s own examinations of the struggles of the radical author to be heard at moments of national strife. Indeed, Geoff Ward’s suggestion that, “it is clear from the outset that whatever happens to Pierre is going to be awful,” his reminders about the “opposition between the cloying pastoral of Saddle Meadows … and the city of dreadful night to which [Pierre] travels” and, most tellingly, his observation that “Pierre is, among other things, a warning about the power of tropes to shape life” (80, 82) could all be applied directly to American Pastoral. Roth even echoes the hints of incest that characterise Pierre’s relationships with his mother and with Isabel when the Swede kisses Merry’s “stammering mouth with the passion that she had been asking him for all month long while knowing only obscurely what she was asking for” (91). Walt Whitman—at least, the Whitman of the first edition of Leaves of Grass in 1855—would seem, initially, to pose more of a problem of alignment with American Pastoral. Whereas the Melville of the 1850s is a 242 Christopher Gair 4. It is also possible to trace the presence of Edgar Allan Poe in this element of American Pastoral. To cite but one example, note the manner in which the enigmatic “The Masque of the Red Death” (1842) is reinscribed by Roth as an overt form of national nightmare, “the plague America infiltrating the Swede’s castle and there infecting everyone. The daughter who transports him out of the longed for American pastoral and into everything that is its antithesis and its enemy, the fury, the violence, and the desperation of the counterpastoral—into the indigenous American beserk” (86). figure consumed by the tragic qualities of American life and the slide toward civil conflict, Whitman represents himself as the national poet, able, as he puts it in “Song of Myself,” to traverse boundaries and “contain multitudes” within a body-state celebrated for its capacity for self- contradiction (Baym, ed. 2253). While there are certainly moments of doubt, even in the 1855 text, Leaves of Grass (and especially the poem later named “Song of Myself”) is essentially an inventory of the nation’s rich and varied resources. In contrast, there is little sense of national celebration in American Pastoral: thus, when Zuckerman tells of the Swede’s “flawlessly Americanized” appearance and adopts a Whitmanesque coupling of self and nation to suggest the Swede’s “unconscious oneness with America” (3, 20), most readers are likely to be alert—even at this early stage in the narrative— to the ironies of the descriptions. There is a similarly sweeping and—superficially, at least—progressive vision of the America of the mid-1940s in another paragraph from near the start of the novel: Roth’s listing of “auto workers, coal workers, transit workers, maritime workers, steel workers” demanding rectification of the nation’s—by now, undemocratically unequal—prosperity mirrors Whitman’s habitual enthusiastic naming of the types of American labourer; the claim that “Everything was in motion” again seems to echo the manner in which the lines of “Song of Myself” characteristically represent people in action; while the paragraph’s concluding vision of “Americans … en masse, everyone in it together” (40) borrows Whitman’s own appropriation of the French in order to reiterate both Whitman’s assertion in his 1855 Preface that a “superior breed … the gangs of kosmos and prophets en masse,” “finding their inspiration in real objects today” (Baym, ed. 2208) will construct a democratic utopia and Whitman’s stress in “Song of Myself” on the notion that “En-Masse” is a “word of the modern” (Baym, ed. 2226). And yet, Zuckerman’s idealised memories of his adolescence suggest that, even then, there was “an undercurrent of anxiety” beneath a world “bright with industriousness.” Furthermore, despite invitations to extrapolate to wider national moods, there are reminders that these are descriptions of a Jewish community retaining a “generalized mistrust of the Gentile World” (41), while the narrator, recounting this history from the perspective of half a century’s distance, is all too aware of what had been happening to Jews in Europe shortly before the scenes he describes. The parallels between Whitman’s and Roth’s approach are also evident in the depiction of the novel’s central character. For Zuckerman, there seems little doubt that the young Swede performed a heroic function for his “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 243 local community in ways that assumed epic, national proportions. Where Whitman would come to represent Abraham Lincoln as the symbol of possibility—of containing the nation’s multitudes—lamenting his assassination as a sign of the cleaving of that ideal, Zuckerman sees the Swede as “our Kennedy,” “another man of glamour exuding American meaning” and links Kennedy’s death and Levov’s “destruction” by the “sliver off the comet of the American chaos [that] had come loose and spun all the way out to Old Rimrock” (83). The Swede’s awakening to emotional turmoil, just like his later “belated discovery of what it means to be not healthy but sick, to be not strong but weak,” to be “[b]etrayed all at once by a wonderful body that had furnished him with assurance and had constituted the bulk of his assurance over others” (29) represent metonymic versions of Zuckerman’s bleak vision of the nation laid low by political corruption (Watergate), internal conflict over race, Vietnam and intergenerational battles over what—if anything—“America” should be. Where Whitman—at least, before the Civil War and Lincoln’s death—could construct an imaginary America in verse that served as symbolic compensation for the conflicts that were threatening to split the nation, Zuckerman redeploys Whitman’s alignment of the individual and the nation as a means of depicting their mutual, symbiotic state of dis-ease. Whitman’s tropes of democracy, selfhood and nation are systematically inverted by Zuckerman in a rewriting of American (literary) history that tells a story of national and personal decline and disillusion.5 While Zuckerman’s representations of Swede Levov and the American nation reformulate Whitman’s central trope, repeatedly distorting it to proffer a bleak lament for a disintegrating body-state, these are by no means the only way in which Leaves of Grass is referenced in American Pastoral. To conclude this piece, I will look at one further instance of this process, assessing the manner in which the rhythms and language of Whitman’s verse—which he sees, of course, as those of the people, and labels “the dialects of common sense” (Baym, ed. 2208)—are subsequently turned against “America” from within. I will then offer a few brief comments on the manner in which Roth modifies Whitman and Emerson’s conception of 244 Christopher Gair 5. The fact that Walt Whitman is the most optimistic of the core writers of the American Renaissance (also including Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Melville) famously selected by F.O. Matthiessen means that his relationship to Roth is potentially closer to the model laid out by Morley than is true for the others. As such, it is strange that she does no more than mention him briefly. the place of the author in the United States in order to accommodate the specific historical crises of national identity that he considers in American Pastoral. When the Swede visits his fugitive daughter in her hovel set amidst the “rubble, the garbage, the debris” of the streets off Newark’s McCarter Highway, he is drawn to a “series of index cards positioned just about where she once used to venerate, over her Old Rimrock bed, magazine photos of Audrey Hepburn.” The cards contain five vows of purity: I renounce all killing of living beings, whether subtile or gross, whether movable or immovable. I renounce all vices of lying speech arising from anger, or greed, or fear, or mirth. I renounce all taking of anything not given, either in a village, or a town, or a wood, either of little or much, or small or great, or living or lifeless things. I renounce all sexual pleasures, either with gods, or men, or animals. I renounce all attachments, whether little or much, small or great, living or lifeless; neither shall I myself form such attachments, nor cause others to do so, nor consent to their doing so. (239) Avoiding the temptation to update D.H. Lawrence’s comments on what Walt would have written if he had known Charlie Chaplin and apply them to Hepburn, I want to call attention to the Whitmanesque qualities of these lines. When read in sequence, the cards read like free verse and deploy a formal strategy used again and again in “Song of Myself,” through which structure is imposed by a word or phrase repeated at the opening of each line. Rather than conforming to formal meter, Whitman allows a line to run until the description of a given image or concept has been completed. He then progresses to the next line and image, reiterating the opening words of the previous passage.6 But this is just the start of the relationship: the ordering of the vows does not immediately invert Whitman’s version of the self; instead, it constructs a narrative that involves a growing sense of detachment from that vision. Thus (even where the act of renunciation is not one that Whitman would consider), the opening statement is not only phrased in the language of “Song of Myself,” with a series of sub-clauses seeking to preclude any omission or confusion, but also echoes Whitman’s own respect for all forms of life. The second and third vows, too, seem to endorse Whitman’s vision of “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 245 6. See, for example, “Song of Myself” ll. 824-30 or 1063-69 in Baym, ed. 2237, 2245. the purity of democratic practice—this is how he envisages his ideal America, in which poets have replaced presidents as shapers of thought and behaviour. Vow four is the first to upend “Song of Myself,” not only in its renunciation of the sexual pleasure that is the cornerstone of Whitman’s celebration of the body, but also in its distinctions between human beings and gods. Finally, where Leaves of Grass is built upon attachments between Americans, irrespective of class, creed or colour, Merry’s fifth vow marks an absolute rejection of such union. This final act of renunciation—in which the possibility of human cooperation in any form is repudiated—seems to mark a shift that rejects the key trope of Whitman’s verse (the self/nation binary) and posits an alternative that leads to self-annihilation and (in the improbable event that it is universally adopted) the death of the country itself. Merry’s manifesto offers one further inversion of the aims of American Renaissance (and many other) writers, in that it marks a self-conscious act of disengagement from the obligation to intervene in debates about the nation. Merry’s own intervention had, of course, been the bombing of Old Rimrock’s post office at a moment where—as Aliki Varvogli has pointed out—her stutter represented “the inability to articulate her rage against her country” (111). For Varvogli, Merry’s impediment aligns her with Zuckerman, who is impotent and incontinent following surgery for prostate cancer. Both are seen as “powerless, a fact metaphorically expressed through the ways in which their bodies fail them” (111). Neither the terrorist nor the artist is able to effect meaningful change on a nation that is now ruled in such a manner as to marginalise the voices of the people. Varvogli makes a powerful case for the link, going so far as to suggest that Merry is the true protagonist of American Pastoral. Yet, Zuckerman insists that his primary focus is the story of Swede Levov and that his narrative involves dissolving the differences between them, effectively thinking as he imagines Levov would do. Physically, their declines are virtually identical—both suffer from prostate cancer and the disease represents the fall not only of powerful men, but also of a global super- power. Where Whitman is the poet of body and soul, Roth splits these categories in two, allowing the Swede’s body (but also his imagination) and Zuckerman’s imagination (but also, of course, his body) to represent the fall of America, in which the extremes of the pastoral myth pursued by Levov and the deconstruction of that myth by the artist are swept to the margins of history. Roth wrote American Pastoral at a moment before 9/11 and at a time when terrorism still seemed to be—largely—a domestic affair. As such, it 246 Christopher Gair makes sense that he should revisit the moment of sixties radicalism as a way of exploring contemporary American life. But equally pertinent in this context is the way that he deploys a version of the American Renaissance text as illustration of how America is threatened with destruction from within. Once more the analogy between the human body and the nation is essential to this representation. Where Whitman celebrates both, however, Zuckerman’s contemplation of the medical and— implicitly—the metaphorical meanings of “cancer” as a vehicle of potential annihilation is enacted in a manner that highlights their doubling. Cancer is defined on Wordnet as “any malignant growth or tumor caused by abnormal and uncontrolled cell division; it may spread to other parts of the body through the lymphatic system or the blood stream” (Miller). The key point is that the “uncontrolled cell division” comes from within, replacing healthy cells with “abnormal” ones, which then spread to contaminate and—in the worst case—destroy the host body. This is what happens to the Swede and (although not fatally) Zuckerman. Merry Levov is also part of the American “body,” a contented child with a normal interest in animals and film stars, yet she also becomes one cell in the “abnormal” division—part of an equally hard to control “American chaos” (83)—that attacks its host in places (here, Old Rimrock) far away from its original manifestation. The supreme irony is that Merry Levov is the inevitable product of Whitman’s vision of an infinitely expandable nation—sooner or later, the body is bound to create its own malignant growth, killing the healthy cells that surround it, whether these are the actual victims of her bombs or the longer- term casualties of her actions, such as Swede Levov. Likewise, her vows of purity, while apparently offering a “renunciation” of her earlier actions, are in fact an extension of them, representing a symbolically murderous twist to Whitman’s language of democratic freedom that, as we have seen, seeks to preclude the forms of human empathy upon which Whitman’s America depends. If we read American Pastoral through the canonical texts of the American Renaissance, there is one final twist to the narrative. Merry Levov has not brought about the collapse of the country, although another form of the self-destruction of democracy is being enacted through the televised coverage of the Watergate hearings that are being beamed (again, cancerously) into almost every American home. But, amidst the “chaos,” Zuckerman ends the novel with a note of thickly veiled hope, in which the laughter of the literature professor, Marcia Umanoff, at the idea that America is “going rapidly under” is tempered by Lou Levov’s good fortune “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 247 at not losing his sight when he is attacked by Jessie Orcutt. The scene reminds us that Zuckerman—like Whitman—empathises with all his characters, even where (as with Lou and Marcia here or the Swede and Merry repeatedly) their views of the nation are diametrically opposed. In “Nature,” Emerson writes that “[i]n the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befal me in life,—no disgrace, no calumny, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair” (Baym, ed. 1112). “Disgrace and calumny” are everywhere at this moment, with Lou believing that “[d]eviancy prevailed” (422), but the stress on spared vision, far from the city and at the conclusion of a narrative in which Zuckerman himself has (after the introductory pages) become Emerson’s “transparent eyeball” (Baym, ed. 1112), being nothing, but seeing all, suggests that there is still hope. Like Emerson, who tempers his fears about the decline of America with a reason for optimism in the ability to see, Roth/Zuckerman does not conclude with the account of the old man’s death. Instead, in a book whose protagonist’s name (Seymour) offers an aural pun on Zuckerman’s understanding of the role of the author in American life, this stress on the continued power of sight (while probably not recognized as such by Lou Levov) metonymically suggests the ability of the writer to sustain his position as “transparent eyeball” claiming the ability to “see all”—and write about it. University of Glasgow United Kingdom Works Cited Baym, Nina, Gen. Ed. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W.W. Norton and Company, 2007. Brauner, David. Philip Roth. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007. Chase, Richard. The American Novel and Its Tradition. 1957. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980. Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “The American Scholar.” 1837. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1138–51. ---. “Nature.” 1836. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1110–38. ---. “Self-Reliance.” 1841. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1163–80. Hawthorne, Nathaniel. Preface to The House of the Seven Gables: A Romance. 1851. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1493–95. 248 Christopher Gair ---. The Scarlet Letter. 1850. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1352–1493. Heimert, Alan. “Moby-Dick and American Political Symbolism.” American Quarterly 15 (1963): 498–534. James, C.L.R. Mariners, Renegades and Castaways: Herman Melville and the World We Live In. Dartmouth: University Press of New Hampshire, 2001. Matthiessen, F.O. American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whitman. 1941. New York: Oxford University Press, 1968. Melville, Herman. “Benito Cereno.” 1855. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 2405–61. ---. Moby-Dick, or, The Whale. 1851. New York: Hendricks House, 1952. ---. Pierre, or, The Ambigvities. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1852. Miller, George A. (Director). Wordnet: a Lexical Database for the English Language. <http://wordnet.princeton.edu/perl/webwn?s=cancer>. Morley, Catherine. The Quest for Epic in Contemporary American Fiction. New York and London: Routledge, 2009. Poe, Edgar Allan. “The Masque of the Red Death.” 1842. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 1585–89. Posnock, Ross. Philip Roth’s Hard Truth: The Art of Immaturity. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006. ---. “Purity and Danger: On Philip Roth.” Raritan 21.2 (2001): 85–101. Rogin, Michael Paul. Subversive Genealogy: The Politics and Art of Herman Melville. New York: Alfred Knopf, 1983. Roth, Philip. American Pastoral. 1997. London: Vintage, 1998. ---. Exit Ghost. London: Jonathan Cape, 2007. ---. I Married a Communist. London: Jonathan Cape, 1998. ---. The Human Stain. London: Jonathan Cape, 2000. Royal, Derek Parker. “Pastoral Dreams and National Identity in American Pastoral and I Married a Communist.” Philip Roth: New Perspectives on an American Author. Ed. Derek Parker Royal. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2005. 185–207. Varvogli, Aliki. “The Inscription of Terrorism: Philip Roth’s American Pastoral.” Philip Roth Studies 3.2 (2007): 101–13. Ward, Geoff. The Writing of America: Literature and Cultural Identity from the Puritans to the Present. Cambridge, U.K.: Polity Press, 2002. Whitman, Walt. Preface to Leaves of Grass. 1855. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 2195–2209. ---. “Song of Myself.” 1855. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. Ed. Nina Baym. 7th ed. Vol. B. New York and London: W. W. Norton and Company, 2007. 2210–54. “The Horror of Self-Reflection” 249 
work_xjh4v47umvazxlbvwlneicz7py	----	Abstract In the early 1970s the Gaia hypothesis of James E "Shakespeare and ecocriticism: The unexpected return of the Elizabethan World Picture" By Gabriel Egan Abstract In the early 1970s the Gaia hypothesis of James E. Lovelock and Lynn Margulis proposed that self-regulating processes of homeostasis have locked together the obviously living biosphere and the apparently dead environment so that one might usefully think of the whole Earth as a single organism. Although Lovelock and Margulis came from strictly scientific fields it is easy to see the appeal of their hypothesis for ‘alternative’ Western cultures of the New Age movement, complementary medicine, and holistic spiritualism, all of which have links with the broader anarchist and animal rights movements and with the emerging theory and practice of ecocriticism. At its best, ecocriticism builds upon post-structuralism’s rejection of the imaginary unified human subject previously dominant in literary studies to consider how Nature too is constructed as well as depicted in literary works. At the other extreme, however, ecocriticism shades off into a neo-Romantic spiritualism that merely asserts the healing power of living in the countryside or vicariously enjoying it through literature about rural idylls. This essay considers the materialist basis of the Gaia hypothesis, comparing it to ways of thinking about the world that were available to Shakespeare’s audiences and in particular its surprising parallels with the much-reviled Elizabethan World Picture described by E. M. W. Tillyard. The ways we human beings think about the world around us – our explanations for how the Earth came to be as it is – change over time. Separating us from Shakespeare’s time is a radical new way of thinking that emerged in the 17th and 18th centuries: the Enlightenment. Building on Renaissance humanism, the Enlightenment thinkers saw themselves as applying reason (rationality) to matters that had previously been dominated by superstition. Isaac Newton and Johannes Kepler had explained the motion of the planets, and the empirical philosophers Thomas Hobbes and John Locke provided materialist explanations of human society and the human mind that left little need for religion, although in fact many Enlightenment thinkers held their religious faith to be quite unlike superstition. Just one question remained beyond the reach of science: how did animals and humans come about? This last bastion fell to Charles Darwin in the mid-nineteenth century. In the late-twentieth century the Enlightenment came in for considerable criticism on a number of fronts. In philosophy (and subsequently in literary studies, which always gets its theories second-hand (1) ), the influential post-structuralism of Jacques Derrida eroded faith in the power of human reason to properly formulate, let alone solve, central problems regarding the way we think about and represent the world. As post-structuralism and its corrosive offshoot partner post-modernism rose to prominence in the 1970s and 1980s, real street politics moved away from specifically left-wing concerns, and related actions such as strikes, and increasingly focussed on environmental issues. This process accelerated after the collapse of communist states in 1989–90, and with the removal of fear of international nuclear war many people turned to the next greatest threat: worldwide environmental disaster from pollution of the atmosphere and the food chain. This latest concern has not yet had much impact on criticism of Renaissance writers such as Shakespeare, although it has become important in relation to others such as the New England Transcendentalists (especially Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson) who seem concerned to report their experiences of natural environments. The application of ecopolitics in the world of literary criticism is called ecocriticism, and the purpose of this paper is to suggest some insights that ecological thinking can usefully bring to bear upon Renaissance ways of thinking. In this I must declare a theoretical prejudice. Within the broad alliance of anarchists, animal rights activists, anti-globalizationists, ecowarriors, and New Ageists that constitutes the only active resistance to late-industrial capitalism in the Western democracies, there are quite a few superstitious people who would rather the Enlightenment had never happened. Post-modernism’s ‘incredulity towards metanarratives’, as it has been called, (2) gives a spurious intellectual veneer to anti-Rationalism, and for some dissident thinkers Big Theory, like Big Science, appears to be part of the problem rather than part of the solution. As a Marxist with ecocritical sympathies I disagree and suggest that these two critiques of the way the world is now are mutually sustaining, not 1 of 10 antithetical. * You probably will not have noticed, but the sun has been getting hotter. If you were 3.6 billion years old – that is to say, if you were born when life started on Earth – the sun’s output of energy would have increased by about 30 per cent over your lifespan, yet the Earth’s surface has remained between 10 and 20 degrees Celsius all this time. To understand why requires the Gaia hypothesis first formally presented by James E. Lovelock (3) and subsequently expanded upon by Lovelock and Lynn Margulis. (4) The Greek word (Gaia) or (Ge) means ‘Earth’, hence our English prefix geo- for earth-related nouns, and was suggested to Lovelock by William Golding when he heard Lovelock’s ideas in 1967. The essence of the Gaia hypothesis is that the Earth is a single organism comprised of the obviously alive biota (all the lifeforms we recognize) and the parts we have previously treated as inorganic, the ‘background’ environment such as the rocks, oceans, and atmosphere. It doubtless seems odd to include the inanimate rocks in any organism, but it is worth remembering that most of a tree is in fact dead material accreted over its lifetime and stored away in the trunk: only the outer bark actually ‘lives’ by the organic processes we recognize. To understand why this is a reasonable scientific (and hence materialist) way to think about the Earth, Lovelock invented a simple model of a Gaia process and called it DaisyWorld. (5) DaisyWorld is a spherical planet uniformly bathed in light from a sun, and upon DaisyWorld there happen to be seeds for two kinds of plant: white daisies and black daisies. White daisies reflect a lot of light and hence keep themselves and their surroundings cool, but they do not photosynthesize as efficiently as black daisies, which absorb a lot of light and quickly warm themselves and their surroundings. Both kinds of daisy thrive at the same ideal temperature, but initially their sun produces too little energy for either to germinate. As suns across the universe do, theirs heats up and as the surface temperature rises both kinds of plant begin to grow and to populate DaisyWorld. In this initially cold climate, the black daisies do rather better than the white ones because they are better at photosynthesis, and by natural selection DaisyWorld is covered with black daisies. A mostly black DaisyWorld reflects little light and the entire planet warms up rather more quickly that it would have were it barren. As the sun’s output continues to rise, the relative advantage of the black daisies diminishes: there is so much light that even white daisies have enough to photosynthesize efficiently and they begin to return. This is just as well because the ever-rising output of the sun is making DaisyWorld rather too hot for daisies, but of course the white, reflective daisies are less affected by this than the black, absorptive daisies are. As the temperature rises still further the black daisies die off and the white daisies come to dominate the planet’s surface, and a mostly white DaisyWorld reflects much of the sun’s energy, keeping things cool enough for life to go on. Eventually, of course, the sun’s energy is so great that not even a white daisy-cooled planet can sustain life and eventually all the daisies die. The significant thing about this scenario is that in a model where the sun got increasingly hot, the temperature on DaisyWorld remained roughly the same (near the ideal for daisies) while it supported life, because the ratio of black to white daisies shifted precisely as needed to counteract the effect of overheating. The daisies did this without any planning or design, it was merely that the ecosystem in general (comprised of the organic matter, the daisies, and the inorganic matter, the surface of DaisyWorld that they grow on) formed what is called a negative-feedback loop, regulating the planet’s surface temperature. At the extremes this regulation did not work: when it was too cold at the beginning and too hot at the end, no daisies survived. But for a significant time between these extremes, the energy from their sun rose steadily yet the surface temperature of DaisyWorld remained stable. Figure 1 illustrates how this process unfolded. If DaisyWorld were lifeless, as most planets are, its temperature would simply rise with the sun’s increasing output (dashed line). But with daisies growing on DaisyWorld, however, something remarkable happens (solid line). There is a roughly level area between the time (marked by the first dotted vertical line) when DaisyWorld became warm enough to support daisies, and the time (marked by the second dotted line) when the sun’s output became just so great that even when entirely covered in white, reflective daisies DaisyWorld became just too hot and no daisies could survive. If the sun’s output were only to vary within the boundaries of this plateau, the temperature 2 of 10 on DaisyWorld would remain roughly constant. Within that plateau, one might say that DaisyWorld is regulating its own temperature by adjusting the ratio of black to white daisies to keep things just right for life to be supported. You will accuse me of anthropomorphizing: DaisyWorld is not really ‘alive’ and so cannot regulate its own temperature in the way that biota do. This was the common view of biologists when Lovelock first proposed his Gaia hypothesis, but in the last twenty years great changes in the philosophy of science have convinced many people that the traditional distinction between ‘alive’ and ‘dead’ and between ‘individual’ and ‘others’ can be as misleading as the distinction between ‘nature’ and ‘culture’. This can best be exampled in genetics. There is a parasitic fluke (flatworm) that lives inside a certain species of snail and interferes with the snail’s hormonal system to increase the signal controlling how thick a shell the snail will grow. The snail ends up with a thicker shell than it really needs and this wasted energy lowers the infested snail’s ability to reproduce. This is of no concern to the fluke, whose ‘investment’ is in the particular snail it has infested, not its descendants. So long as this particular snail does not get killed (and for this a thick shell helps) the fluke can reproduce. Zoologists have traditionally thought of the limit of the effect of an organism’s genotype (collection of genes) to be its phenotype (body), but in this case one can truly say that the fluke carries the gene for ‘thick shells’ even though the fluke hasn’t got a shell and only borrows the one of its host. (6) Certainly, a fluke that does not carry the gene for thickening its host’s shell will lose out in the competition for survival with those that do, and so the ‘thick shell’ gene will be naturally selected. Looked at another way, one might say that since a spider’s web is as much an effect of its genes as its hairy legs – the web-making behaviour is innate not learned – the distinction between the traditional phenotype (the hairy body) and the product made by that phenotype (its web) is false. Richard Dawkins, who pointed out this error, suggested that we should take into account all the effects of genes and think about The Extended Phenotype, (7) as he called his book. Tillyardism and systems thinking Like a number of recent scientific developments such as memetics and artificial intelligence, Lovelock’s Gaia hypothesis has disturbing implications for modern critical theory, threatening to disrupt the distinctions by which we work, such as nature/culture and lifeform/environment. Shakespearians are particularly well-placed to deal with these disruptions because we work on texts from a relatively unfamiliar culture that, while it probably did not treat as indisputably true the cosmological model described in E. M. W. Tillyard’s The Elizabethan World Picture, (8) clearly contained many views about the universe that we consider mistaken. A belief in the connection between the affairs of human beings in the sublunary sphere and occurrences among the higher layers (the sky, planetary spheres, and the fiery realm) was firmly, and it seemed at the time irrevocably, ruptured in the eighteenth-century Enlightenment. We might argue about the extent to which this connection was generally believed in the Renaissance, and can blame Tillyard for promulgating a naive view of ideological cohesiveness that gave too little space to reasoned dissent from the dominant beliefs of the period. But characters in Shakespeare speak meaningfully about comets presaging disaster and the music of the spheres, and unless we think that these lines always elicited derisive laughter from the theatre audiences we have to accept that such things were within the realm of the believable. And they now are not. Or are they? One of the most noticeable cultural developments in the Western world in the past thirty years has been the rise of an anti-rationalistic, ‘alternative’ culture that embraces the New Age movement, complementary medicine, and forms of holistic spiritualism, and links these to broader anarchist and animal rights movements. For an apparently rising number of people the Enlightenment itself was an illusory detour into hyper-rationality and the sense of connectedness voiced in Elizabethan drama and poetry offers a form of spirituality that comes packaged with a rich supply of artistic works that are already central to Western culture. To illustrate my view that we should reject such co-option of Shakespeare I will use his characters’ apparent understanding of why black people are that colour. The black daisies of DaisyWorld retain heat energy that strikes them while the white ones reflect it away. Anyone who has changed from black to white clothes or vice versa on a sunny day will have noticed that black materials retain heat energy. The prevailing Renaissance conception of how black people come to be 3 of 10 black is clearly expressed by characters in Shakespeare. In The Merchant of Venice the prince of Morocco anticipates (correctly, as it turns out) that Portia is racist: MOROCCO (to Portia) Mislike me not for my complexion, The shadowed livery of the burnished sun, To whom I am a neighbour and near bred. (The Merchant of Venice 2.1.1–3) (9) His blood, he goes on to insist, is as red as anyone else’s, but the important point for my purpose is his idea that his blackness is a coating (‘shadowed livery’) caused by living in a sunny country. Desdemona’s father uses the same idea of a burnt coating that should so revolt his daughter that only Othello’s use of magic could have caused her to ‘Run from her guardage to the sooty bosom/Of such a thing as thou’ (Othello 1.2.71–2). Othello shares (or perhaps comes to share) this sense of his blackness as a coating: convinced that Desdemona is unfaithful he says ‘My name, that was as fresh/As Dian’s visage, is now begrimed and black/As mine own face’ (Othello 3.3.391–3). In the very act of denying that blackness can wash off, Aaron in Titus Andronicus imagines it not as an innate colour but a coating: Coal-black is better than another hue In that it scorns to bear another hue; For all the water in the ocean Can never turn the swan’s black legs to white, Although she lave them hourly in the flood. (Titus Andronicus 4.2.98–102) Washing the Ethiop (or blackamore) white was, of course, proverbial in Shakespeare’s time. (10) What conceptions about the world gave rise to the idea that blackness is a coating? For a white actor playing Morocco, Othello, or Aaron, the character’s sense of his blackness as a coating is, of course, literally true: excluding the unlikely possibility that a black actor worked in Shakespeare’s company (about which we would expect there to be some record), the actor would have ‘blacked up’ with a coating as preparation for the performance. The part, then, with its references to blackness as a coating, is inherently suited to a white actor in makeup and not a black actor at all, and this adds support to the argument made by the Ghanaian actor Hugh Quarshie that black people should not play Othello, or at least not without major reworking of the play. (11) An observation of the distribution of skin colours around the world would have indicated to Elizabethans that black people live in hot countries, and many things (including white skin) do darken under strong sunlight, so a reasonable assumption would have been that black people simply had really deep tans. And in a sense they do: the melanin pigment causing brownness is the same in all humans. But in this particular DaisyWorld daisies and ourselves are unalike, for we tan in the sun not in order to absorb more of the sun’s energy but as a protection from it. The heat energy of the sun would not do us much harm, but its ultraviolet light promotes errors in the copying of genetic material during cell division and can produce in us clusters of out-of-control skin cells, cancers. In countries where sunshine is strongest, humans whose melanocyte cells are especially active, producing greater amounts of the skin pigment melanin, are less likely to get skin cancers because this brown pigment absorbs ultraviolet light before it penetrates too far into the body. Such people have a competitive advantage over those with less active melanocyte cells and so over time dark skins were naturally selected, although once human populations spread around the world the advantage became less pronounced. Those living in cold northerly climates would in fact be at a relative disadvantage if they made excessive melanin – making it costs energy that was better spent 4 of 10 elsewhere in the body – and hence, over evolutionary time, people in these climates turned white. Importantly, the operations giving rise to colour differences between the races operate by Darwinian selection across a population, not on an individual, but nonetheless it is true to say that the hot sun makes black people black. It is equally true to say that the sun shining on DaisyWorld made it turn white, and so the empirical observation can be literally true even within an utterly deficient model of how the processes operate. What matters is the level at which one thinks the phenomenon is operating, for no individual turned from white to black because of the sun (tanning is in all people a marginal change) just as no daisy turned from black to white in DaisyWorld. Rather, the effect emerges when one looks to a higher level of population change. There is an instructive analogy here between the scientific view and the thinking of post-structuralists for whom binary oppositions of the kind black/white are false, human distinctions in which the supposedly opposing terms actually have much in common. The word ‘black’ comes from the Old Teutonic word ‘blækan’ meaning to scorch and the word ‘bleach’ has the same origin, because an object placed in a fire turns first black and then, after a while, white. So ‘bleaching’ (making white) and ‘blackening’, far from being natural opposites, are cognate. Our binary opposition, like so many false oppositions, has just deconstructed itself. However, where the post-structuralist view depends ultimately only on linguistics (and hence ancient experience), the apparently opposing scientific explanations (sun > black skin, sun > white DaisyWorld) are both entirely scientific. But they are scientific in a way that Enlightenment thinking, especially its concern with causes and effects, has considerable difficulty coping with. The control systems that make whole populations of people and of daisies change colour are the subject of the science of cybernetics invented by Norbert Wiener (12) and its related disciplines of ‘systems theory’ that Ludwig von Bertalanffy developed in his work on biology (13) and ‘systems dynamics’ as Jay Forrester termed it in relation to social organizations. (14) The problem with Enlightenment thinking is not its rationality, however, but its propensity to consider phenomena in isolation rather than in interaction within larger systems. On the other hand, however, one can overstate the reverse too, as Barry Commoner did with his much cited First Law of Ecology that ‘everything is connected to everything else’. (15) An analogous false dichotomy has long dogged Marxist and anti-Marxist arguments about whether everything or nothing at all can be explained by analysis of the economic base of a society, that is how production is organized. The answer, of course, lies somewhere between the extremes. Your favourite aunt catching cold might seem unrelated to the activities of big business, until you consider that her straitened financial circumstances are due to the company pension fund being raided by her former employer so that she can no longer afford to keep warm. The aspect of the Elizabethan World Picture that American New Historicist and British Cultural Materialist critics most vehemently rejected in the 1980s and 1990s was the homogeneity of thought that Tillyard seemed to insist upon. For John Drakakis, Tillyard’s work overlooked (or, more actively, suppressed) the reality that Shakespeare’s texts, like any others, are ‘sites of struggle’ rather than monovocal pronouncements. (16) Robin Headlam Wells gave a concrete example: far from simply agreeing with the ideas contained in the Homily Against Disobedience (as Tillyard would have it), the Elizabethans were decidedly ambivalent about responsible tyrannicide and personal revenge. On the one hand the Pope had absolved Catholics of their allegiance to Elizabeth, and on the other the Bond of Association allowed private citizens to avenge any harm done to her. (17) There are good reasons to accept that Tillyard overstated the singularity of Elizabethan thought, although a careful reading of The Elizabethan World Picture shows that his critics have themselves rather overstated the degree to which he claimed that singularity, as I argue in a book currently in press. (18) But no-one has thought to attack the World Picture itself, with its multiple planes of being (cosmological, earthly, social, and biological) and their alleged correspondences and analogies (the head rules the body as the king rules the state), all tied together by the unifying valences of the Great Chain of Being. Its wrongness has seemed so obvious as not to require stating, but in fact the Gaia hypothesis and work in cybernetics and systems thinking/theory could go some way towards rehabilitating aspects of it. As a single organism, Gaia comprises what we consider to be quite distinct collections of living matter (flora and fauna) and non-living matter (rocks, oceans, and the atmosphere), but on reflection the same is true of 5 of 10 each of our bodies. Your hair and the ends of your fingernails, for example, are quite dead (19) but no less a part of you for that. Treated as complex systems of control, the chemical exchanges involving the seabed, exposed rocks, and the troposphere that keep the Earth’s atmosphere in its high state of disequilibrium – so essential to life – have quite strict analogies with, and indeed dependence upon, the internal chemical exchanges of plants and animals. The hard distinction between the biota of the Earth and the ‘environment’ in which these biota live, an ‘environment’ conceived as a background or mere context, is a misleading legacy of Enlightenment thinking. To that extent, the realms of human and animal existence have valid analogies with the four planes of earth, water, air, and fire in Tillyard’s model of alleged Elizabethan thinking. We may dispense with the religious and authoritarian concomitants of the model’s hierarchical organization, and marvel at the scientific aptness of a way of thinking that so unites the macrocosmic and microcosmic levels of existence. * Ecocriticism as it is currently constituted suggests an essentially conservative political ambition: that humankind cease harming the ecosphere. In a much-quoted definition, one of the field’s founders, Cheryll Glotfelty, made an analogy with two political schools of criticism and offered examples of what ecocriticism might do: Simply put, ecocriticism is the study of the relationship between literature and the physical environment. Just as feminist criticism examines language and literature from a gender-conscious perspective, and Marxist criticism brings an awareness of modes of production and economic class to its reading of texts, ecocriticism takes an earth-centered approach to literary studies. Ecocritics and theorists ask questions like the following: How is nature represented in this sonnet? What role does the physical setting play in the plot of this novel? Are the values expressed in this play consistent with ecological wisdom? How do our metaphors of the land influence the way we treat it? How can we characterize nature writing as a genre? In addition to race, class, and gender, should place become a new critical category? . . . Despite the broad scope of inquiry and disparate levels of sophistication, all ecological criticism shares the fundamental premise that human culture is connected to the physical world, affecting it and affected by it. (20) This is at once a vague statement of principles – who could disagree with the premise that ‘human culture is connected to the physical world’? – and a specific set of enquiries (there were eight more I have elided). Obvious theoretical objections are immediately apparent, for example that ‘place’ should not be a new critical category alongside race, class, and gender because i) it is hopelessly imprecise (was this poem written upstairs or in the basement?), and ii) race-class-gender should not in any case form a critical triplet. The race-class-gender error has a respectable Shakespearean history, for example in Jonathan Dollimore and Alan Sinfield’s introduction to their anthology Political Shakespeare, which proclaimed that their new approach ‘registers its commitment to the transformation of a social order which exploits people on grounds of race, gender, and class’. (21) The problem, of course, is the patently absurd idea that capitalist society exploits on the grounds of class, here likened to the categories of race and gender. Marx would disagree about the category class, which he thought merely a convenient generalization about people’s relations to production, and the most important category simply because capitalism will necessarily cast greater numbers of people into one class, the proletariat, until that class is large enough to overthrow the bourgeoisie. Nobody wants to be poor, of course, but it is far from clear that everyone wants to be released from the categories of race and gender; if only being a woman did not entail doing more housework and earning less money than men, it would not of itself seem a condition of oppression. Likewise, those in Britain’s first overseas colony have long struggled to be free, but have tended to consider their oppression in terms 6 of 10 of the economic wealth extracted from their island rather than in the condition of simply being Irish. By likening race, gender, and class, Dollimore and Sinfield abandoned the Marxist insight that class is a unique category, not an incidental attribute by which one might be oppressed, and without this the political project diminishes to liberal reformism that treats the social order as a given and hopes only for a meritocracy in which being from the wrong race, gender, or class would be no barrier to advancement. Dollimore and Sinfield’s slip was uncharacteristic of their work and that which their anthology presented, but ecocritical founder Glotfelty’s avoidance of materialism is of a piece with essays in her anthology. These are suffused with a variety of anti-intellectualisms of which Paul Gunn Allen’s is amongst the most invidious: ‘The westerner’s bias against nonordinary states of consciousness [produced in American Indian ceremonies] is the result of an intellectual climate that has been carefully fostered in the West for centuries, that has reached its culmination in Freudian and Darwinian theories, and that only now is beginning to yield to the masses of data that contradict it.’ (22) And even those of us who marvel at the self-regulatory processes of DaisyWorld might well feel that William Rueckert is unlikely to win over the opponents of ecocriticism with such claims as ‘Green plants, for example, are among the most creative organisms on earth. They are nature’s poets. . . . Poems are green plants among us; if poets are suns, then poems are green plants among us for they clearly arrest energy on its path to entropy . . .’ (23) Ecocriticism seems to occupy a critical position something like that held by feminism 30 years ago, when ideas of breath-taking idiocy such as Shulamith Firestone’s projects for reproductive liberation via artificial placentas and limited contract households (24) jostled for space alongside (indeed, in Firestone’s case, within the same book as) serious political scholarship. Materialism, the view that the basic substance of the world is matter and that it is known primarily through and as material forms and processes, is not the opposite of spiritualism. Materialism finds its opposite in metaphysical idealism (which asserts the ideality of reality), and in epistemology the contrast is between realism (which holds that in human knowledge objects are grasped and seen as they really are, independent of the human mind) and epistemological idealism (which holds that in the knowledge process the mind can grasp only the psychic or that its objects are conditioned by their perceptibility). Spiritualism is something altogether distinct, but, like essentialism, literary theorists draw upon it to form a simple, mistaken dualism that is homologous to head/heart. By such distorted categorizing one is either headily materialist and realist or one is heartily spiritualist, idealist, and essentialist. In fact, it is entirely possible to hold opinions that have long been deemed spiritualist (such as the view that the Earth itself, rocks, sea water, and all, is singly alive) while insisting upon materialist explanations. James E. Lovelock often notes that his Gaia hypothesis has been stoutly resisted by scientists (whom one would think amenable to rational argument) and yet it fits well with ancient – and indeed specifically rural and non-scientific – ways of understanding the world. Discerning just what is and what is not causally related is a ticklish business – who would have believed twenty years ago that most stomach ulcers are caused by a bacterium? – but it is always a materialist and rationalist endeavour. It may well turn out to be true that human activity will make the Earth unfit for human habitation, but it is exceedingly unlikely that Gaia itself will die because its regulatory systems are remarkably robust and adaptive. If we are to reject any part of our Enlightenment inheritance it is the anthropocentric conviction, derived from humanism and itself bearing a vestigial religious conviction, that we humans are the sine qua non of the universe. This decentering apart, the Enlightenment’s promotion of rationality, and not post-modernism’s valourization of illogicality, is just what is required to avoid writing ourselves out of Gaia’s future. Notes 1 Shakespearean scholar David Scott Kastan offered a humorous explanation for why English Literature repeatedly seems to borrow theory from other disciplines, and indeed why it adopts each one just as the ‘home’ discipline is abandoning it: the Strand Bookstore phenomenon. Scholars of literature are, in general, underpaid and tend to frequent second-hand emporia such as the vast Strand Bookstore at the corner of Broadway and 12th Street in New York. There they find used books of scientific and cultural theory that colleagues in other, better-funded, disciplines have sold off as no longer relevant to their work. By this means discarded theories are recycled in literary studies. 7 of 10 2 J. Lyotard, The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, trans. G. Bennington and B. Massumi, Theory and History of Literature 10 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1984), xxiv. 3 J. E. Lovelock, ‘Gaia as Seen Through the Atmosphere’, Atmospheric Environment 6 (1972), pp. 579–80. 4 J. E. Lovelock and L. Margulis, ‘Atmospheric Homeostasis By and for the Biosphere: The Gaia Hypothesis’. Tellus 26 (1974), pp. 2–9; J. E. Lovelock and L. Margulis, ‘Biological Modulation of the Earth’s Atmosphere’, Icarus 21 (1974), pp. 471–89. 5 J. E. Lovelock, ‘Daisy World: A Cybernetic Proof of the Gaia Hypothesis’. Coevolution Quarterly 38 (1983), pp. 66–72. 6 R. Dawkins, The Selfish Gene, 2nd edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989), pp. 240–2. 7 R. Dawkins, The Extended Phenotype: The Gene as the Unit of Selection (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982). 8 E. M. W. Tillyard, The Elizabethan World Picture (London: Chatto and Windus, 1943). 9 W. Shakespeare, The Complete Works, ed. S. Wells, G. Taylor, J. Jowett, W. Montgomery. Electronic edition prepared by W. Montgomery and L. Bernard (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1989). All subsequent quotations of Shakespeare are from this edition. 10 R. W. Dent, Shakespeare’s Proverbial Language: An Index (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), Appendix A, E186. 11 H. Quarshie, ‘Second Thoughts About Othello’. International Shakespeare Association Occasional Papers 7 (Chipping Campden: International Shakespeare Association, 1999). 12 N. Wiener, Cybernetics: or, Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine (New York: John Wiley, 1948). 13 L. von Bertalanffy, ‘The Concepts of Systems in Physics and Biology’. Bulletin of the British Society for the History of Science 1 (1949), pp. 44–5; L. von Bertalanffy, General Systems Theory: Foundations, Development, Applications (London: Allen Lane, 1968). 14 J. F. Forrester, Industrial Dynamics (Cambridge MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1961). 15 B. Commoner, ‘The Closing Circle: Nature, Man, and Technology’. In Thinking About the Environment, ed. M. A. Cahn and R. O’Brien (Armonk NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1971), pp. 161–6 (p. 165). 16 J. Drakakis, ‘Theatre, Ideology, and Institution: Shakespeare and the Roadsweepers’. In The Shakespeare Myth, ed. G. Holderness, Cultural Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988), pp. 24–41 (p. 26). 17 R. H. Wells, Shakespeare on Masculinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), p. 71. 18 G. Egan, Marx and Shakespeare, Oxford Shakespeare Topics (Oxford: Oxford University Press, forthcoming). 19 Cosmetic products that their makers claim can ‘revitalize’ those parts of your body are, therefore, purporting to work magic. 20 C. Glotfelty, ‘Introduction: Literary Studies in an Age of Environmental Crisis’. In The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, ed. C. Glotfelty and H. Fromm (Athens GA: University of 8 of 10 Georgia Press, 1996), pp. xv–xxxvii (xviii–xix). 21 J. Dollimore and A. Sinfield, ‘Foreword: Cultural Materialism’. In Political Shakespeare: New Essays in Cultural Materialism, ed. J. Dollimore and A. Sinfield (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1985), pp. vii–viii (viii). 22 P. G. Allen, ‘The Sacred Hoop: A Contemporary Perspective’. In The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, ed. C. Glotfelty and H. Fromm (Athens GA: University of Georgia Press, 1996), pp. 241–63 (p. 255). 23 W. Rueckert, ‘Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism’. In The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, ed. C. Glotfelty and H. Fromm (Athens GA: University of Georgia Press, 1996), pp. 105–23 (p. 111 repetition as in original). 24 S. Firestone, The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution (New York: Morrow, 1970), pp. 197–8l, p. 231. Bibliography Allen P. G. , ‘The Sacred Hoop: A Contemporary Perspective’. In The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, Glotfelty C. Fromm H. (Athens GA: University of Georgia Press , 1996 ), pp. 241–63. Bertalanffy L. von , ‘The Concepts of Systems in Physics and Biology’. Bulletin of the British Society for the History of Science 1 ( 1949 ), pp. 44–5. Bertalanffy L. von , General Systems Theory: Foundations, Development, Applications (London: Allen Lane , 1968 ). Commoner B. , ‘The Closing Circle: Nature, Man, and Technology’. In Thinking About the Environment, Cahn M. A. O’Brien R. (Armonk NY: M. E. Sharpe , 1971 ), pp. 161–6. Dawkins R. , The Extended Phenotype: The Gene as the Unit of Selection (Oxford: Oxford University Press , 1982 ). Dawkins R. , The Selfish Gene, Second edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press , 1989 ). Dent R. W. , Shakespeare’s Proverbial Language: An Index (Berkeley: University of California Press , 1981 ). Dollimore J. Sinfield A. , ‘Foreword: Cultural Materialism’. In Political Shakespeare: New Essays in Cultural Materialism, Dollimore J. Sinfield A. (Manchester: Manchester University Press , 1985 ), pp. vii–viii. Drakakis J. , ‘Theatre, Ideology, and Institution: Shakespeare and the Roadsweepers’. In The Shakespeare Myth, Holderness G. . Cultural Politics (Manchester: Manchester University Press , 1988 ), pp. 24–41. Egan G. , Marx and Shakespeare. Oxford Shakespeare Topics (Oxford: Oxford University Press , 0000 ). Firestone S. , The Dialectic of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution (New York: Morrow , 1970 ). Forrester J. F. , Industrial Dynamics (Cambridge MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press , 1961 ). Glotfelty C. , ‘Introduction: Literary Studies in an Age of Environmental Crisis’. In The Ecocriticism 9 of 10 Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, Glotfelty C. Fromm H. (Athens GA: University of Georgia Press , 1996 ), pp. xv–xxxvii. Lovelock J. E. , ‘Daisy World: A Cybernetic Proof of the Gaia Hypothesis’. Coevolution Quarterly 38 ( 1983 ), pp. 66–72. Lovelock J. E. , ‘Gaia as Seen Through the Atmosphere’. Atmospheric Environment 6 ( 1972 ), pp. 579–80. Lovelock J. E. Margulis L. , ‘Atmospheric Homeostasis By and for the Biosphere: The Gaia Hypothesis’. Tellus 26 ( 1974 ), pp. 2–9. Lovelock J. E. Margulis L. , ‘Biological Modulation of the Earth’s Atmosphere’. Icarus 21 ( 1974 ), pp. 471–89. Lyotard J. , The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge, Bennington G. Massumi B. . Theory and History of Literature 10 (Manchester: Manchester University Press , 1984 ). Quarshie H. , ‘Second Thoughts About Othello’. International Shakespeare Association Occasional Papers 7 (Chipping Campden: International Shakespeare Association , 1999 ). Rueckert W. , ‘Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism’. In The Ecocriticism Reader: Landmarks in Literary Ecology, Glotfelty C. Fromm H. (Athens GA: University of Georgia Press , 1996 ), pp. 105–23. Shakespeare W. , The Complete Works, Wells S. Taylor G. Jowett J. Montgomery W. . Electronic edition prepared by Montgomery W. Bernard L. (Oxford: Oxford University Press , 1989 ). Tillyard E. M. W. , The Elizabethan World Picture (London: Chatto and Windus , 1943 ). Wells R. H. , Shakespeare on Masculinity (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press , 2000 ). Wiener N. , Cybernetics: or, Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine (New York: John Wiley , 1948 ). 10 of 10 
work_xlk7zdj3rzf3dp2sl3oq2bafl4	----	Change of Local Culture after the 25th Revolution and its Impact on Environmental Awareness Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 1877-0428 © 2012 Published by Elsevier Ltd. Selection and peer-review under responsibility of the Centre for Environment- Behaviour Studies (cE-Bs), Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2012.08.101 AcE-Bs 2012 Bangkok ASEAN Conference on Environment-Behaviour Studies, Bangkok, Thailand, 16-18 July 2012 Change of Local Culture after the 25th Revolution and its Impact on Environmental Awareness Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmeda* and Samah M. El-Khateeb a4Petrol Street, Lebanon Suare, Mohandseen,Giza,12411,Egypt b14zaki Rostom Street, Nasr City, Cairo, Egypt Abstract “Local Culture” has become one of the most interesting fields for many studies, as it has always been referred to in some of its phases as the main cause of social and environmental defects. This research is highlighting the impacts of the 25th revolution on both of local culture and environmental behavior during the revolution and up till now, and pointing out the different environmental attitudes those have been noticed within cities and rural areas. The research also focuses on certain phenomena concerning both natural & built environment such as the huge and uncontrolled increasing in informal buildings and building on agriculture lands which increased a lot after the revolution. © 2012 Published by Elsevier Ltd. Selection and peer-review under responsibility of the Centre for Environment- Behaviour Studies (cE-Bs), Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia Keywords: Environmental behavior; maintaining; built environment; 25th revolution 1. Definition and related terminologies 1.1. Culture definition The word culture comes from the Latin root colere (Latin: cultura, lit. "cultivation") used to refer (to inhabit, to cultivate, or to honor), and when Culture first began to take its current usage by Europeans in eighteenth and nineteenth-century (having had earlier antecedents elsewhere), it connoted a process of cultivation or improvement, as in agriculture or horticulture (Harper, D. (2001). In language, it means the integrated pattern of human behaviour that includes thought, speech, action, and artifacts and depends * Corresponding author. Tel.: 00201224466736 E-mail address: arch.lobna@gmail.com Available online at www.sciencedirect.com © 2012 Published by Elsevier Ltd. Selection and peer-review under responsibility of the Centre for Environment- Behaviour Studies (cE-Bs), Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. Open access under CC BY-NC-ND license. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/ 998 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 upon the human capacity for learning and transmitting knowledge to succeeding generations (webster, 2010). In general, (Culture) refers to human activity; different definitions of culture reflect different theories for understanding, or criteria for valuing, human activity. Culture is traditionally the oldest human character, its significant traces separating Homo from fossils, and Man from the Animals, though new discoveries are blurring these edges in our day (Wordiq, 2012). In 1987, Sir Edward B. Tylor wrote that "culture or civilization, taken in its wide ethnographic sense, is that complex whole which includes knowledge, belief, art, morals, law, custom, and any other capabilities and habits acquired by man as a member of society" (Wordiq, 2012), while in 2002, the United Nations agency UNESCO defined it in a document states that culture is the "set of distinctive spiritual, material, intellectual and emotional features of society or a social group and that it encompasses, in addition to art and literature, lifestyles, ways of living together, value systems, traditions and beliefs" (UNESCO, 2002). While both of these two definitions are broad, yet they do not exhaust the many uses of this concept. In 1952, Alfred Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn compiled a list of more than 200 different definitions of culture in their book; Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions (Kroeber & Kluckhohn, 1952). A distinction is current between the physical artifacts created by a society, its so-called material culture and everything else, the intangibles such as language, customs, etc. that are the main referent of the term "culture".( Macionis, Gerber, John & Linda ,2010). 1.2. Historical background Many people today use a conception of "culture" that developed in Europe during the 18th and early 19th centuries. This conception of culture reflected inequalities within European societies, and between European powers and their colonies around the world. It identifies "culture" with "civilization" and contrasts both with "nature ". According to this thinking, some countries are more civilized than others, and some people are more cultured than others. Ideally, this conception of culture implied the notion of cultivation: the progressive refinement of human behavior. Matthew Arnold (1822-1888) consistently uses the word this way: "... culture being a pursuit of our total perfection by means of getting to know, on all the matters which most concern us, the best which has been thought and said in the world." (Arnold, 1882). In practice, culture refers to elite goods and activities such as haute cuisine, high fashion or haute couture, museum caliber art and classical , and the word cultured to refer to people who know about, and take part in, these activities. People who use "culture" in this way tend not to use it in the plural. They believe that there are not distinct cultures, each with their own internal logic and values, but rather only a single standard of refinement to which all groups are held accountable. People lacking "culture" often seemed more "natural," and observers often defended (or criticized) elements of high culture for repressing "human nature".By the late 19th century, anthropologists had adopted and adapted this term to a broader definition of culture that they could apply to a wider variety of societies. They believed biological evolution would produce a most inclusive notion of culture, a concept that anthropologists could apply equally to non-literate and literate societies, or to nomadic and to sedentary societies. Thus, Clifford Geertz has argued that human physiology and neurology developed in conjunction with the first cultural activities (Wordiq, 1973), and Middleton (1990: 17 n.27) concluded that human "'instincts' were culturally formed." For the German sociologist Georg Simmel, culture referred to "the cultivation of individuals through the agency of external forms which have been objectified in the course of history (Levine & Donald, 1971). Today most social scientists reject the monadic conception of culture, and the opposition of culture to nature. They recognize that non-elites are as cultured as elites (and that non- Westerners are just as civilized) -- they are just cultured in a different way. Thus, social observers contrast the "high" culture of elites to "popular" or pop culture, meaning goods and activities produced for, and consumed by, non-elite people or the masses. Both high and low cultures can be viewed as subcultures. 999 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 1.3. Material culture The view of culture as a symbolic system with adaptive functions, which varies from place to place, led anthropologists to conceive of different cultures as defined by distinct patterns (or structures) of enduring, arbitrary, conventional sets of meaning, which took concrete form in a variety of artifacts such as myths and rituals, tools, the design of housing, and the planning of villages. Anthropologists thus distinguish between material culture and symbolic culture, not only because each reflects different kinds of human activity, but also because they constitute different kinds of data that require different methodologies. "Material culture" is a term used to describe the objects produced by human beings, including buildings, structures, monuments, tools, weapons, utensils, furniture, art, and indeed any physical item created by a society. As such, material culture is the main source of information about the past from which archaeologists can make inferences. A distinction is often made between those aspects of culture that appear as physical objects and those aspects that are non-material (UCL, 2002). Material and visual culture is also concerned with how people make, exchange and consume the material world, but equally with how material forms and visual images are central to the socialisation of human beings into culture. We are in vanguard of theoretical discussion in exploring perspectives such as phenomenology and objectification (UCL, 2002). 1.4. Local culture The term local culture is commonly used to characterize the experience of everyday life in specific, identifiable localities. It reflects ordinary people’s feelings of appropriateness, comfort, and correctness— attributes that define personal preferences and changing tastes. Given the strength of local cultures, it is difficult to argue that an overarching global culture actually (Encyclopædia Britannica, 2012). It refers also to a group of people in a particular place who see themselves as a collective or a community, who share experiences, customs, and traits, and who work to preserve those traits and customs in order to claim uniqueness and to distinguish themselves from others. We may understand a “local culture” to be the means by which a community built to human scale preserves itself and its place. Members of a local culture care for themselves and one another, for their land and air and water, not only by local knowledge and skill but also by restraint and virtue, by justice and mercy, and by the principles of economic cooperation (Augustana, 2000). 1.5. Environmental awareness It is a term refers to the growth and development of awareness, understanding and consciousness toward the biophysical environment and its problems, including human interactions and effects. It indicates the meaning of thinking "ecologically", or in terms of an ecological consciousness. When discussing the raising of environmental awareness and encouraging everyday citizens to do their part to preserve the planet for future generations, there is a couple of old sayings, which almost common in all cultures, which could have their interpretation on the environmental preservation process. On an international level, concern for the environment was the subject of a United Nations Conference on the Human Environment in Stockholm in 1972, attended by 114 nations. Out of this meeting developed UNEP (United Nations Environment Programme) and the follow-up United Nations Conference on Environment and Development in 1992. Other international organizations in support of environmental policies development include the Commission for Environmental Cooperation (as part of NAFTA), the European Environment Agency (EEA), and the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC). 1000 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 1.6. Environmentalism Environmentalism is a movement to protect the quality and continuity of life through conservation of natural resources, prevention of pollution, and control of land use. The philosophical foundations for environmentalism in the United States were established by Thomas Jefferson, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau. In 1864, George Perkins Marsh published Man & Nature, in which he anticipated many concepts of modern ecology, study of the relationships of organisms to their physical environment and to one another. The study of an individual organism or a single species is termed autcology; the study of groups of organisms is called synecology. 2. 25th Revolution overview (reason– participants – timeline) Revolutions are not that kind of events taking place frequently in people life at any country. In Egypt during its modern history there have been three revolutions; in 1919, in 1952 and the last is the 25th revolution which broke out during January 2011 and is continuing in many aspects till now. Egypt's revolution began on 25 January, the "Day of Revolt", when tens of thousands of marchers occupied Cairo's Tahrir Square to protest against President Hosni Mubarak and his government. (fig.1) Simultaneous protests were held in Ismailiya, Alexandria and Suez. In the following days the demonstrations became more violent. Police fired rubber bullets and water cannons to repel protesters. A curfew was enforced, the army was deployed and the internet was shut down by the government. (BBC, 2011). Contrary to known, it turns out that the Egyptian regime was neither stable nor secure. The lack of its stability is not a reflection of its weakness or lack of a resolve to oppress. It is a reflection of its inherent contradiction to the natural desire of people to practice their basic freedoms. For two months calls were made using new social media tools (mainly facebook, twitter & some web sites) for a mass demonstration on the 25th of January which was assigned a year ago as a Police National Day. Observers saw those calls as another virtual activism that would not have any real actions. Few calls in the past had resulted in very small public support and the demonstrations were limited to the familiar faces of political activists numbering in the hundreds (Fig.2). Fig. 1. Graph of Tahrir square at the center of Cairo, main host and international icon of the Egyptian revolution. Sources: The New York Times, (2011) 1001 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 Fig. 2. (a) Photo of Tahrir square during one the revolution; (b) Poster for one of the revolution events As the day progressed, the observers seemed to be correct in their skepticism. While the demonstrations were certainly larger than previous ones, numbering perhaps 15,000 in Cairo, they were nothing worrisome for the regime. They were certainly much smaller than the ones in 2003 against the Iraq War. The police force was largely tolerating and when they decided to empty Tahrir Square, where the demonstrators had camped for the night; it took them less than 5 minutes to do so. Starting Friday 28th, revolutionist decided for the first time to name Fridays as their days of gathering millions of them at Tahrir Square, which become the host and symbol of their revolution, and that particular Friday was “Friday of Rage”. Events and confrontations continued between people and police forces till the president Mubarak stepped down on 11th February 2011 (Fig.3). Major events are going till that date and up till now, putting many questions on how and when things should come to an end that meets the expectations of the people of Egypt who ask for their freedom, equity and justice. Fig. 3. Graph of the Egyptian revolution timeline; since it was breaking out till Mubarak stepped down. Sources: Word press, (2011) 1002 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 3. Environmental problems in Egypt Natural environment is everything that surrounds man such as atmosphere, land, water, biological life including man, flora, and fauna. There are many interrelations between man and environment, as man affects the environment and vice versa. As a result of man's industrial, social and entertaining activities, the environment had reached a point of deterioration, which aroused voices of many people calling for the protection of natural & environmental resources as well as maintaining the environmental balance and hindering its deterioration (El Khateeb, 2006). One of the most significant challenges facing the world today is the tension between human development and natural resources management. Also, existing land use practices lead to pollution, deforestation, habitat loss and reduction in biodiversity. Land tenure, management policy, legislation, and economic incentives are often at odd with the sustainable use of natural resources. In addition population growth, human migration, and local strife tend to augment trends that threaten the environment conditions for human survival and progress. Developing countries are considered most affected by the previous factors since most have neither the tools nor the knowledge to combat the ill effects of the much needed developmental process on the environment. In the preparations for the United Nations conference on environment and development - the Earth Summit- held in Rio de Janeiro in 1992, a number of priority environmental problems were identified for industrialized countries and other more specific problems for developing countries, at different levels of intensity. In developing countries environmental issues generally involve the loss of natural areas and the exploitation of their resources. There are attributed to various factors that along several sectors including the government, the population and the economy. Environmental problems are particularly serious in developing countries where their primary concern centers on economic growth, prevention of starvation and disease control. The environment has long been a subject of interest in Egyptian culture; ancient inscriptions such as those depicting the journeys of Queen Hatshepsut (1450BC) illustrate the wildlife expedition to the land of Punt. These, among others suggest that a form of nature protection exist in a very early stage in Egyptian history and include basic management principles which were followed through by succeeding civilizations: the ancient Greeks, Romans and Ottomans. Traditional forms of community protection also developed through the ages and still exist. A number of areas were regarded as sacred under the traditional law of the local Bedouin tribes, with the "lineage preserves". The official onset of environment protection in its modern form originated in 1990 and was the basis for most of the long reigning conservation policies. The first conservation legislation this century came into being with the creation of the Royal hunting reserve at Wadi Rishrash in 1900. Current interest by the authorities in nature conservation was initiated when a delegation attended the 1955 Unesco meeting on nature protection in Beirut. The first protected site was established at El Omayed and was acquired by the University of Alexandria in 1974. The Presidential Decree of 5 March 1980, expressed concern for environmental matters established a mechanism for identifying and protecting threatened areas and species through cooperation between provincial governors; the Academy of Scientific Research and the Ministry of Agriculture. Subsequently, Ministerial Decree No. 472 of 5 May 1982 ensured the prohibition of hunting all birds and animals in a number of sites in Sinai. Eventually the promulgation of Law No. 102/83, which was passed by the People's Assembly on 20 July 1983, provided for the legal framework upon which the government could establish protected areas throughout Egypt. The sole category referred to in the Law No. 102/83 is the natural protectorate. Article 1 defines the natural protectorate, its designation and delineation by individual Prime Ministerial decrees, under the recommendation of the Egyptian Environmental Affairs Agency (EEAA). Sub-categories covered under the Prime Ministerial decrees include scientific area, national Marine Park, conservation area, natural area and protected area. 1003 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 The EEAA is the main administrative body responsible for the enforcement of environmental protection and conservation, and was established under Decree No. 631 of 1982. In 1983 a presidential directive established EEAA offices within each of the Governorate of Egypt. In 1979, the Egyptian Wildlife Service (EWS) was established under the authority of the Ministry of Agriculture Decree No. 349, with responsibility for management of natural protectorates and wildlife research. In 1991 the Minister of Cabinet Affairs and Minister of State for Administrative Development, and the Minister in charge of Environment issued Decree No. 30 for the reorganization of the EEAA (El Khateeb, 2006). Natural environment in Egypt has become subject to many shapes of deteriorations caused by man, environmental problems is varied from high pollution due to high polluting industries to solid waste problems. The solid waste problem is one of the major problems in the Egyptian environment, and all districts suffer from it and based of the questionnaire also all districts even good standard of living areas suffer from this problem. One of the major problems in the Egyptian community is the irresponsible behavior of people towards the environment. Most of the answer of the questionnaire refers that the main environmental problems is caused from people themselves. We must say that the majority of environmental problems are caused from the lack of the environmental awareness of the local people. They didn’t study it in their schools; especially in poorer areas they look more irresponsible towards the environment. Another reason for this attitude based on the questionnaire almost 40% of the samples said that the feeling of the non-belonging to the country helped more in the segregation between people’s attitude and country. They feel that they act individually and don’t know that all this accumulate attitudes will help in more deterioration of their urban and natural environment. One of the major environmental problems that appeared in the Egyptian Environment is the the problem of the solid waste collection from neighborhoods, this problem is extremely appeared in the last few years because of the new contracts that done between the governments and the foreign companies to collect the wastes with totally ignoring the local collector (Zabaleen) that used to collect it through years. The problem was that we suddenly transferred the system from door to door service to collecting the garbage in the big bins in the streets by the individuals themselves. These caused huge problems as it didn’t respect the Egyptian behavior that used to have this service from home and couldn’t accept any other solution. This from one hand, from the other hand old garbage collections loses their job so they decide to collect from bins before the companies Lorries come. They select the recycling materials from the garbage and leave other organic and non-recyclables thrown in the streets. As an impact we now suffer from a big solid waste problem in majority of the Egyptian streets not only in cities but also in rural areas. Fig. 4. which contains picture a -b-c shows some of the solid wastes problems in cities and rural areas in Egypt. Fig. 4. (a) Solid wastes in the street in cairo city; (b) burning the wastes in the streets in Cairo streets.; (c) solid waste problem in rural areas 1004 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 4. Egyptians behavior towards the environment since the revolution 4.1. During the 25th of January Revolution The Egyptian youth played a great role on the 25th January revolution, which has ended by the president, stepped down on 11th February 2011. One of the most noticed things in this revolution that it was done by Egyptians from different backgrounds, ages, education and gender. They shared one dream; to enhance their living conditions, living in dignity and feel freedom. The revolution effect echoed everywhere, all the people got involved in a way or another in rebuilding Egypt with a motive of shaping their future differently. As we are now practicing the democracy for the first time, some Egyptians think that making demonstrations in every field or areas complaining from certain issue is the democracy, but in fact the solution of our problems won't come by that way, we need people to work together to understand their role in building their new community. As it is expected from everyone to share in building Egypt, understand the role of democracy to achieve our goals. Egyptian revolution has ignited the spirit of change and we must complete the journey, where we will live more democratic and effective. During the revolution people shared together in securing their streets and neighborhoods, they arrange themselves well and they could secure their areas very well starting from luxury areas till informal settlements. From the other hand in the square (Tahrir square) there were daily campaigns to clean and collect garbage from the protests in the square. Fig. 5. (a) Girls cleaned Tahrir Square in the revolution period; (b) Youth replanted the square in the last day of the revolution.; (c) youth shared in cleaning Tahrir Square in the revolution 1005 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 4.2. After the 25th of January Revolution After the revolution based on the observations and the questionnaire, there were two opposite behaviors towards the environment from the Egyptians, the first one was the positive spirit that spread everywhere and helped in changing the behavior of the Egyptians to the better, and the second one is the negative behavior of the Egyptians and the exploitation of the deterioration in the security and the police after the revolution. 4.2.1. Positive impacts: The revolution effect echoed everywhere, all the people got involved in a way or another in rebuilding Egypt with a motive or shaping their future differently , The unique spirit spread all over Egypt, as we heard about campaigns for cleaning streets in several neighborhoods. These campaigns continued for several weeks after the unexpected success of the revolution; where everyone one was encouraged and motivated to take part in it believing that making Egypt look better and working on the physical matters should come in parallel or even before focusing on the political long term issues. 4.2.1.1. Cleaning campaigns In Fact, This was a kind of initiate that the Egyptian streets and neighborhoods had never witnessed, yet after a few months the spirit started to slow down in a way or another. After 5 Months of the headless revolution, it was proved that a leaderless revolution is a double sided weapon, in a way it does not belong to one person and on the other hand it developed in an unorganized ways at some points. January Uprising moved many Youth to do something, and to great extent they succeeded in moving the world in return. Applying the same analogy to the cleaning initiatives, the main reason for the slowdown which took place can be summarized in not having a clear Goal and Strategy and the lack of organization and awareness lead to gradual decrease in the people’s spirit. And due to that, many other campaigns and initiatives appeared in the last month towards saving the environment and change the behavior of the Egyptians towards the environment. Fig. 6. (a);(b);(c) and (d) cleaning campaigns in Nasr City District, Cairo, Egypt in 2011 1006 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 4.2.1.2. Awareness initiatives Many awareness initiatives found their way to public in city centers, slums and even rural parts. Some aimed at bringing up the level of common knowledge of the environment, while others work to spread out the culture of recycling. Tadweer Initiative is one of this Awareness initiative that contain both the Awareness and the practice. This initiative is inspired from the revolution, its theme is ‘’Tadweer’’ or recycling which is inspired from Tahrir (the square) that witnessed the Egyptian revolution and became a symbol of freedom. ‘’Tadweer’’ is a project which first aim to raise the awareness of Egyptian citizens towards the environment by involving them in the Recycling process, the second aim is to supply green jobs to youth who will work in this project (our scope to supply more than 500 jobs for youth some of them are permanent and others are not) and third one is to make a prototype project that can implemented all over Egypt. The program includes two major concepts; the first one is the awareness campaigns and lectures for Egyptians about the concept of ‘’Tadweer’’ and the second one is the recycling process. We propose to start with youth and children as they really dream of better Egypt and we think that they will accept it and share in it. We will adopt a new concept of recycling in Egypt by involving people in the sorting phase by putting their waste in recycling kiosks and recycling bins (Tadweer, 2012). The main aim from this project is to raise the awareness of youth & children toward environment, as they believe that many of the environmental problems we are facing in our beloved country are because of the individuals’ behavior, since mainly they don’t have motivation to respect the environment and they don’t know the consequences of that. It would like to reflect the endless spirit of youth to be a part of the change, after the 25th January revolution, and the initiatives to live in a clean community through inviting them to share in this. In the first phase of this project, they will focus on this will not be the domestic wastes, but will be on users’ wastes (wastes of students in schools or universities). The domestic wastes will be a future phase of the program which is not discussed in this proposal. 4.2.2. Negative Impacts The huge and uncontrolled increasing in informal buildings and building on agriculture lands which increased a lot after the revolution is one of the major negative impacts of the revolution. Some opportunists took advantage of poor security conditions and situations of insecurity, which the country experienced after the revolution and they build illegally on agricultural land in most of the Egyptians governorates. As an impact thousands of buildings were built and we lose large area of the agriculture land. However, the farmers are betting that the executive branch and the police have become weak and unable to resist or eliminate the illegal building on agricultural land, and all Egyptians are hoping that the new president will be strong enough to stop these violations. Of course the dream of farmers is to have a not strong enough government that let them build more on agriculture land and supply them too with the infrastructure services. On the other hand revealed a government report issued by the ministries of agriculture and local development announced that the total number of building illegally on agriculture lands after the revolution reached 13821 building in all the Egyptian governorates (Atta, 2012). The report pointed out that it will coordinate with the ministries of electricity to stop supplying their services to those buildings and start to think in new solutions to solve the growth in population in rural areas by increasing the height of buildings for example. 1007 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 Fig. 7. (a); (b) Illegal building on agriculture lands that appeared in most of rural areas in Egypt after the 25 th of January Revolution (2011) 5. Survey on the change in Egyptians attitude and behavior towards environment This questionnaire took place during the beginning of the second year of revolution, or post-revolution as many refers. Samples include: commonalty – expertise: environmental experts – urban planners. 5.1. Objectives of the questionnaire: Identify the general impression among the public and professionals of the extent of a relationship between urban and the general political system of country. Identify the public opinion and specialists to the extent of the impact of the Revolution of January 25 on the urban environment in the short term and long-term. Identify the elements of influence on the urban environment. Identify the elements most affected by the urban environment according to the general political system of the country. Identify how to manage the urban development after the revolution. Identify the mental image of the expected post-revolution urban development. 5.2. Survey questions and results 5.2.1. Question 1: From your point of view that the state of urban development in Egypt Good condition. Moderate condition. 23.3% Bad condition. 76.7% 1008 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.2. Question 2: From your point of view choose the Most important problems of urban environment in Egypt (Choose the top 3 problems from your point of view) Poor condition of buildings. 19.8% Illegal building on agricultural land. 40.5% Informal areas. 74.1% Laxity in law enforcement. 65.5% The poor condition of streets. 28.4% The poor condition of the infrastructure systems (water - sewage - Electricity). 32.8% Lack of green spaces. 33.6% lack of housing units.12.9% Traffic congestion. 32.8% 5.2.3. Question 3: The Cause of the problems of urban environment due to Inadequate laws and current legislations. 12.1% Defect in laws & legisations. 43.1% Corruption of neighborhood & districts councils and local councils. 73.3% The large population increase. 23.3% Lack of commitment to the citizens of obeying laws. 44.8% 1009 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.4. Question 4: The most negative aspects of Mubarak's regime in the field of urban development Encroachment on the territory of the State Property. 30.1% Allocation of land for business men.61.2% The poor condition of infrastructure.30.1% Poor road network and street level to Egypt.35.9% Failing to build enough housing units for low-income.50.5% Direct state support to the resorts and luxury homes.49.5% 5.2.5. Question 5: Do you think that the revolution will have an impact on future urban development Yes: A positive impact.72.4% No impact.22.9% Yes: Negative impact.6.7% 5.2.6. Question 6: Most important problems of urban development that must be placed on the top priority of the new Government Poor condition of buildings. 12.5% Illegal build on the agricultural land. 39.4% Informal areas. 71.2% The inadequacy of the laws & legislations. 12.5% Laxity in the enforcements of laws .60.6% The poor condition of streets.26% The poor condition of the infrastructure systems (water - sewage - Electricity). 27.9% Lack of green spaces. 19.2% Lack of housing units. 21.2% Traffic congestion. 24% 1010 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.7. Question 7: Do you think that the political system of the country has an impact on the state of urban environment Yes - a significant impact. 83.7% Yes – moderate impact.14.4% Yes - but minor impact. 1% No - no impact 5.2.8. Question 8: Urban problems in rural and urban areas Equal. 26.5% Greater in the countryside. 26.5% Greater in the urban areas. 47.1% 1011 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.9. Question 9: Behavior of citizens is a factor in the urban environment Main factor. 78% Secondary factor.22% Has no effect. 5.2.10. Question 10: Which of these factors can contribute to solving the problems of urban environment in Egypt and make a positive change? Strict legislation in the field of urban development.38% Rigidity and seriousness in the application of existing laws. 41% Cancellation of reconciliation in the case of irregularities. 35% The establishment of new cities.30% Work of the integrated development of new areas of Egypt.67% 1012 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.11. Question 11: We can maximize the return on the revolution in the field of urban environment by Reclaim stolen lands.50% strengthen penalties for violations related to construction.47% The establishment of a specialized authority to monitor all the Egyptian land and developmental projects. 27% Direct the investments towards a local developmental project of Egypt.64% Removal of subsidies on the units and luxurious residential areas. 25% 5.2.12. Question 12: In the case there is a project to improve and develop the neighbourhood you live in, you will Participate. 86.3% Will not participate.2.9% I don’t know.10.8% 1013 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.13. Question 13: The Type of participation Awareness. 57.1% Volunteer effort (physical).64.3% Donation.27.6% 5.2.14. Question 14: The behavior of the Egyptians towards the environment changed after the revolution Yes. 7.9% Limited change.49.% No change. 34.7 I do not know. 7.9% 5.2.15. Question 15: Some believe that environmental awareness has risen in some way in the Egyptians life after the revolution, in your opinion that because of The spirit of belonging to the country. 33.7% The desire to make a change for the better.65.3% The strong lack of the role of the government. 17.9% 1014 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.16. Question 16: In your opinion what is the proof of the high level of urban environment in different neighbourhoods Cleanliness of streets. 61.9% The condition of roads and utilities.58.8% Spread of trees and green spaces. 44.3% 5.2.17. Question 17: Is it possible to distinguish between residential neighborhoods, rich and poor, according to the quality of the built environment (the streets – walkways- pavements –open areas) Yes. 9.8% No we cannot. 2% It Is no longer the measure because of the spread of garbage even in the high level and luxury neighborhoods. 38.2% 5.2.18. Question 18: Have you participated in any cleaning campaigns in a neighbourhood’s streets after the revolution Yes participated by physical effort. 30% Participated by donation. 21% I did not participate.56% 1015 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.19. Question 19: What do you think is the reason for the failure of cleaning campaigns, and garbage collection which was done directly after the revolution Lack of awareness of citizens especially non-participants in the campaign. 36% Failure to provide permanent financing and a specific body to sponsor this campaigns49% Decline in enthusiasm with the time. 53. 5.2.20. Question 20: You think that the Environmental problems in rural and urban areas (pollution - concentrations garbage on the streets - poor drainage systems and water ....) are Environmental problems in cities bigger than villages. 46% Environmental problems in the villages bigger than cities.22% Equal.32% 1016 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 5.2.21. Question 21: Do you think the cause of the irresponsible environmental behavior of some Egyptians (such as the dumping of garbage - distortion and building facades, and writing on public property - roads occupancy ....) is due to Lack of environmental awareness. 56.9% The absence of laws and tolerated in the application of existing laws. 71.6% Feeling of not belonging to the country. 30.4% 6. Conclusion and recommendations The theoretical and applied (survey) parts of these research brought out many conclusions: Each culture has to be understood as a whole, on its own terms. Also an individual's actions had to be understood in terms of his or her culture; that should be applied to both revolution as an act and actions towards environment as well. When studying communities, we can conclude that people living apart from one another develop unique cultures, but elements of different cultures can easily spread from one group of people to another. Culture is dynamic and can be taught and learned, making it a potentially rapid form of adaptation to change in physical conditions which includes both the nature and built environment. When we set out to just raise environmental awareness, what we often end up with is producing a lip service, instead, if we want that awareness to lead to some action, it helps a lot to define that action and aim for that directly. Setting a goal of motivating the local communities to take some small action to conserve their environment, and then follow up with another small goal would help giving the participant feelings of praise and gratitude, then suggest the next, more meaningful action they can take. Acknowledgments We have the great honor to present our research to our people in Egypt, to the immortal spirits of the martyrs of our 25th Revolution. May God protects our country from any harm and guides our steps towards a bright future. References Answers (2011). Material Culture. Retrived from http://www.answers.com/topic/material-culture#ixzz1tMc6preb. Arnold, M. (1882). The Christian Knowledge Society. Retrived from http://www.library.utoronto.ca/utel/nonfiction_u/arnoldm_ca/ca_all.html 1017 Lobna Abdel Aziz Ahmed and Samah M. El-Khatee / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 50 ( 2012 ) 997 – 1017 Atta, A. (2011). Digital Ahram. Retrived from http://digital.ahram.org.eg/articles.aspx?Serial=449649&eid=6313. Augustana. (2000) Local culture. Retrived from http://localculture.augustana.edu/. BBC. (2011). Egypt's revolution: Interactive map. Retrived from http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-12327995. El Khateeb, M. S. (2006). Interrelations between preserved areas and Urban Environment. Master Thesis. Egypt : Ain Shams University. Encyclopædia Britannica. (2012). Local Culture. Retrived from http://www.britannica.com/ EBchecked/topic/766184/local-culture. Harper, D. (2001). Online Etymology Dictionary. Retrived from http://www.etymonline.com. Kroeber, A. L. & Kluckhohn, C. (1952). Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions. New York: Vintage Books. Levine, A. & Donald, D. (1971). Simmel: On individuality and social forms. Chicago :Chicago University Press. Macionis, Gerber, John, & Linda. (2010). Sociology 7th Canadian Ed. Toronto, Ontario: Pearson Canada Inc. Quizlet. (2010). Local Culture, Popular Culture, and Cultural Landscapes. Retrived from http://quizlet.com/3113884/chapter-4- local-culture-popular-culture-and-cultural-landscapes-vocab-flash-cards/. Tadweer. (2012). self-study of the initiative Tadweer Misr. Unpublished study. The new York times. 2011. 18 Days at the Center of Egypt’s Revolution . Retrived from http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2011/02/12/world/middleeast/0212-egypt-tahrir-18-days-graphic.html UCL. (2002). Material Culture. Retrived from http://www.ucl.ac.uk/anthropology/material-culture. UNESCO. (2002). UNESCO Universal Declaration on Cultural Diversity. Retrived from (http://www.unesco.org/education/imld_2002/unversal_decla.shtml. Webster, M. (2010). Definition of culture. Retrived from http://www.merriam-webster.com/medical/culture. Word press. (2011). Egypt's Awakening: Timeline of Most Important Milestones of the Jan. 25th Revolution. Retrived from http://awakeningofegypt.wordpress.com/2011/03/05/270/. Wordiq (2012). Culture definitions. Retrived from http://www.wordiq.com/definition/Culture. Wordiq (1973). Clifford Geertz – Definition. Retrived from http:// www.wordiq/definition/clifford_Geertz. 
work_xmbtaasm45aotk3adl4r2ekkp4	----	Emergency Contraception correction 1476 n engl j med 350;14 www.nejm.org april 1, 2004 profiles in cardiology Edited by J. Willis Hurst, C. Richard Conti, and W. Bruce Fye. 514 pp., illustrated. Mahwah, N.J., Clinical Cardiology Publishing, 2003. $69.50. ISBN 0-615-12084-9. n 1985, j. willis hurst suggested that a short biographical and historical profile of a major contributor to the understanding and treat- ment of heart disease be included in the monthly issues of the journal Clinical Cardiology, of which C. Richard Conti is the editor-in-chief. Profiles in Car- diology reprints more than 200 of these profiles in a chronological arrangement that covers more than half a millennium, from Antonio di Paolo Benivi- eni (1443–1502), an early proponent of clinical– pathological correlation by means of autopsy, to A. John Camm (1947–). Many of the profiles of ear- ly physicians were written by W. Bruce Fye, a skilled clinician and historian, and the book contains con- tributions by a large number of other writers who are historically oriented, nearly all them physicians. This book belongs on the shelf of anyone work- ing in cardiovascular medicine or surgery who rec- ognizes and appreciates the importance of our past. It complements the often short biographical sketch- es that introduce the reprints of original, milestone articles in Classics of Cardiology (now expanded to five volumes by Krieger Publishing, Malabar, Fla.). In contrast to a collection of classic works, Profiles in Cardiology is both by physicians and about physi- cians, which is its strength and its weakness. There is no better or more convenient single source for brief, two-to-three-page biographical sketches of our predecessors, often with references to primary and secondary sources. Nearly every profile is ac- companied by a portrait (a notable exception being that of Allan Burns, who in 1809 wrote the first book on cardiology in English and of whom no por- trait is known to exist). Perhaps Ralph Waldo Emerson was correct, in saying that “there is properly no history, only biog- raphy”; Profiles in Cardiology describes the evolution of cardiology as a series of individual accomplish- ments by “great men” and also a few “great wom- en.” The story of that evolution as presented in this book is not a developmental history of concepts but, rather, a collection of lives that are linked by dedi- cation to the study of heart disease. This is a refresh- ing anachronism in the present era of more formal social historiography of medicine, but it does have limitations. Although the order of the profiles is chronolog- ical, they are far more likely to be examined indi- vidually than read sequentially. It would have been useful therefore to have a topical index that would allow a reader interested in Heberden and angina, for example, to follow the evolution of the con- cept through Hunter, Jenner, Parry, and Burns or lead a reader interested in auscultation from Laën- nec to Forbes, Hope, Stokes, Skoda, and Flint. The essays are generally of high quality and usually avoid the tendency to view the past only through current understanding and current definitions of disease. Eccentricities in these essays are apparent and excusable. There is an understandable tendency to- ward hagiography when physicians write about our heroes. A minority of the profiles focus inordi- nately on credit for earliest descriptions and histor- ical priority for eponyms. It is a bias of mine that notables should be dead before they are included in this type of collection, so as to allow time for scien- tific and historical perspectives to emerge and to avoid the inclusion of overly celebratory essays that are written by students or colleagues. Overall, dis- tinguished living clinicians and investigators make up about 20 percent of the profiles in this series. Because the profiles continue to appear in Clinical Cardiology, a second volume or enlarged second edition of this collection can be expected — and welcomed — in the future. Paul Kligfield, M.D. Weill Medical College of Cornell University New York, NY 10021 Book Reviews Copyright ©2004 Massachusetts Medical Society. Emergency Contraception (November 6, 2003;349:1830-5). On page 1830, the statement in line 4 of the second paragraph under the heading “The Clinical Problem” should have read “was associ- ated with a 24 percent probability that a conception would lead to successful pregnancy,” rather than “was associated with an 8 per- cent risk of pregnancy,” as printed. On page 1830, the statement in line 4 of the paragraph under the heading “The Yuzpe Regimen” should have read “available by prescription (Preven, Gynétics),” rath- er than “available by prescription (Preven, Roche),” as printed. i correction The New England Journal of Medicine Downloaded from nejm.org at CARNEGIE-MELLON UNIV on April 5, 2021. For personal use only. No other uses without permission. Copyright © 2004 Massachusetts Medical Society. All rights reserved. 
work_xmk3vw6eavfrddfy7fxy552kxq	----	Introduction In Pursuit of Ethics LAWRENCE BUELL is John P. Marquand Professor of English and chair of the English depart­ ment at Harvard University. A former member of the PMLA Editorial Board, he is author of New England Literary Culture (Cambridge UP, 1986), The En­ vironmental Imagination (Har­ vard UP, 1995), and other books and articles on the literature and culture of the United States. T7 I ’ THICS HAS GAINED new resonance in literary studies during Mi ^the past dozen years, even if it has not—at least yet—become the paradigm-defining concept that textuality was for the 1970s and his­ toricism for the 1980s.1 As with any groundswell, particularly when the central term of refer­ ence already belongs to common usage, the challenge of pinning down what counts as ethics intensifies as more parties lay claim to it. The om­ nibus character of the call for papers for this special issue of PMLA, re­ peated below in part, acknowledges the de facto heterogeneity: The ethics of reading, writing, criticism, interpretation, theorizing, and teach­ ing. The ethical dimensions of particular critical and theoretical orientations [.. .]. The ethics of discourses, genres, and cultural institutions [..The per­ tinence to literary study of [.. .] models from moral and political philosophy. [.. .] The rhetoric of ethical writing. [.. .] The ethical ramifications of aspects of professional culture [...]. The forty-six submissions demonstrated anew, if further demonstration be needed, that there is no unitary ethics movement, no firm consensus among MLA members who think of themselves as pursuing some form of ethically valenced inquiry. This pluriform discourse interweaves many genealogical strands, six of which I briefly review before commenting on some of the specific emphases in the body of scholarship that has arisen from them, including the five searching and incisive essays that the Editorial Board has selected for publication here. I The first and most longstanding of those strands is the legacy of critical traditions that have dwelled on the moral thematics and underlying value commitments of literary texts and their implied authors. David Par­ ker’s approach to fiction, for example, seems to a considerable extent a In Pursuit of Ethics subtilized, relativized updating of an Amoldian-Leavisite conception of literature as ethical reflection (77-78, 120-22, 152). A semianalogous tradition in United States literary studies has been the intellectual history of moral thought from Puritanism to transcendentalism to pragmatism and beyond, a heritage recently “multiculturalized” as African American thinkers have been positioned in relation to it, starting with William James’s one-time student W. E. B. Du Bois (West 138-50; Patterson 159-97). This tendency is represented in the present symposium by James M. Albrecht’s reassessment of how Ralph Waldo Emerson mat­ tered to Ralph Waldo Ellison. More pervasively influential within tradi­ tional literary studies generally has been ethically oriented theory and criticism focused on the rhetoric of genre, such as Wayne Booth’s oeuvre extending over several decades on narrative rhetoric as moral imagination (from Rhetoric through Company), which continues to be a reference point for more recent studies (e.g., Phelan; Newton, Narrative Ethics', and Yudice—to list a range of responses from sympathetic to highly critical). The reciprocal turn of certain philosophers toward literature, particu­ larly Martha Nussbaum and Richard Rorty, is a second and related stimu­ lus. Nussbaum’s argument that the richly contextualized moral reflections of Henry James’s novels afford a necessary supplement to the study of moral philosophy (Love’s Knowledge 125-219), a perspective she has since brought to bear on other writers and on the study of law (Poetic Justice), and Rorty’s characterization, as an alternative to what he takes to be the dead end of epistemology, initially of philosophy as “a kind of writing” (Consequences 90-109) and, more recently and pertinently, of (certain) works of creative writing as model embodiments of social val­ ues (Contingency 141-88)—these have mattered to scholars in the field of literature less because of any radical originality of method (see New­ ton, Narrative Ethics 61-63 on Nussbaum and see Parker 33-35 on both) than insofar as their example has abetted revival of a moral or social value-oriented approach to literary studies. More instrumental in shaping the specific agendas of literary scholar­ ship have been two other developments, perturbations arising from shifts of thinking by and about the two figures of greatest impact on post­ structuralist literary theory of the 1970s and 1980s, Jacques Derrida and Michel Foucault. The reevaluation of the ethics of deconstruction is the more dramatic of these two developments insofar as it is connected with the “fall” of its prominent American exemplar Paul de Man, following the posthu­ mous republication of his wartime journalism, which included Nazi- collaborationist passages. In an essay whose circumstance of production is itself an index of the recent ethical turn,2 Geoffrey Harpham seriocomi­ cally remarks of this “event” that “[o]n or about December 1, 1987, the nature of literary theory changed” (“Ethics” 389). De Man’s Wartime Journalism indeed unleashed a flood of controversy within and outside the academy over whether deconstruction was morally evasive or iniqui- tous. It intensified criticism of the Derridean postulate of “nothing outside the text” (or textuality) as ethically myopic, and possibly it may also have had something to do with Derrida’s increasing engagement of social, po­ litical, and ethical issues in recent years (e.g., “Force”; Other Heading-, Specters-, Gift 1-34). Yet deconstruction and poststructuralism more broadly had already evinced a distinct ethical perspective—even if not typically called such and even if typically placed in the service of nega­ tion—particularly by “compel[ling] us to reflect on the costs of moral ab­ solutism, the violence latent in trying to construct fully realized ethical forms of life” (M. Jay 46-47). Two specific preexisting ethical currents within the deconstructive movement that gathered momentum during the late 1980s were a defense of “rigorous unreliability” in critical reading as itself an ethics (Johnson 17-24; Miller, Ethics') and particularly a dialogue over several decades between Derrida and Emmanuel Levinas that ended, on Levinas’s death, in Derrida’s affirmation that “the thought of Emman­ uel Levinas has awakened us” to a conception of “an ‘unlimited’ respon­ sibility that exceeds and precedes my freedom” (Derrida, “Adieu” 3), after Levinas (between Totality and Infinity [1961] and Otherwise Than Being [1974]) had complicated his argument for “ethics as first philoso­ phy” (meaning the priority of ethical obligation for the other to ontology, to being itself) in response to Derrida’s critique of Totality and Infinity (“Violence”). If Levinas should become the most central theorist for the postpoststructuralist dispensation of turn-of-the-century literary-ethical inquiry, for which there is mounting evidence (Critchley; Nealon; New­ ton, Narrative Ethics-, Eaglestone; as well as the essays here by Derek At- tridge and David P. Haney), a good deal of the credit must go to Derrida for having called the attention of literary scholars to Levinas’s work. Just as the shift within deconstruction, motivated by whatever combi­ nation of external and internal pressures, has given new prominence to thinking about ethical responsibility for the other, so the intensified at­ tention recently given subjectness and agency has been emboldened by a redirection of emphasis in the later work of Michel Foucault. In the course of his History of Sexuality, Foucault shifted from his longstand­ ing concentration on the power-knowledge problematic and on the con­ struction of social selves by discursive macroinstitutions to the care of the self conceived as an ethical project, a movement quickened by the perception that for privileged men of Greek and Roman antiquity “re­ flection on sexual behavior as a moral domain was not a means of inter­ nalizing, justifying, or formalizing general interdictions imposed on everyone” but “an aesthetics of existence” (Use 252-53), indeed an “ethics of pleasure” (Care 239).3 Here again the trajectory is not quite the reversal it might seem, since the spirit of Foucault’s work was al­ ways one of irony and at times Nietzschean outrage against institutional constraints on selfhood, but certainly his later writing not only under­ scored retrospectively the seriousness of his prior interest in the fate of the self but also marked a new receptivity on his part to the ethical as a semiautonomous arena, “not related to any social—or at least to any legal—institutional system,” and to imagined power relations as “mo­ bile, reversible, and unstable” (Ethics 255, 292). This self-recalibration anticipates—and probably has encouraged—later writers’ propensity for deploying a critical vocabulary of “ethics” in rivalry to “politics” as a way of theorizing principled social engagement. Another symptomatic ethical turn evinced by late Foucault was his in­ cipient critique of his earlier evaluation of “the idea of truth as nothing more than a ruse in the service of an epistemic will-to-power,” as a mere discursive artifact (Norris 124, 126). This strain of recent theory concerns itself with exposing the intellectual reductionisms and moral hazards of the “out-and-out cognitive skepticism” that supposedly characterized poststructuralism (Norris 3), while avoiding old-fashioned models of mimetic realism. Satya Mohanty, in an independent critique, passionately decries the tendency of “postmodernist skepticism” “to deny experience any cognitive value,” arguing that particularly in narratives by authors from oppressed peoples “we need to explore the possibility of a theoreti­ cal understanding of social and cultural identity in terms of objective so­ cial location” (234, 216). The strongest impetus for those seeking to work through the issue of whether discourse can yield truthful or reliable rep­ resentation, however, has been Derridean rather than Foucauldian (see Mohanty’s formulation of a “post-positivist” realism [176-216]); and so far the most characteristic position has been the argument—advanced es­ pecially by students of postcolonial and “minority” discourse—that truth, authenticity, or historical facticity is concealed within, by, or behind dis­ courses resistant, opaque, or elliptical (Chow 39-41). This seems the purport of Gayatri Spivak’s paradoxical assertion that “ethics is the expe­ rience of the impossible”: an ethical representation of subalternity must proceed in the awareness that (mutual) understanding will be limited. “No amount of raised field-work can ever approach the painstaking labor to establish ethical singularity with the subaltern” (Preface xxv, xxiv)— but proceed it must. A correlative insight is Doris Sommer’s conception of an ethics of withholding by which resistant minority writers create strategic opacities and misrecognitions for mainstream readers (“Resist­ ing” and “Textual Conquests”): a “poetics of defense,” as George Yudice calls it in his discussion of one of Sommer’s proof texts, I, Rigoberta Menchu (229). A sixth strand of influence is increased self-consciousness about pro ­ fessional ethics, which has stimulated discussion throughout the univer­ sity about standards of conduct. In law, works of literature have for some time been offered pedagogically as more full-blooded instantia­ tions of legal thinking and conduct than standard intradisciplinary sources afford (e.g., Weisberg; Nussbaum, Poetic Justice-, cf. the critique by Posner 305-32)—a tendency, mirrored in other professional fields, that has helped prepare the way for, even if it has not directly influenced, Wai Chee Dimock’s bold and important argument that literature’s “tex- tualization of justice” constitutes a deeper ethical reflection than the “reification of commensurability” to which the legal discourse of justice is committed (10, 6). At an instrumental, administrative level, literature programs and associations have moved toward their own reifications of disciplinary-ethical concerns in the form of codes of ethical conduct (e.g., Mod. Lang. Assn, of Amer.). Finally and most prominently, con­ cerns about the ethics of critical theory and practice have been brought together with concerns about the ethics of professional conduct—al­ though by no means always under the sign of ethics per se—in studies of the conceptual, historical, and pedagogical dimensions of canon for­ mation and change (Smith; Lauter; Guillory; G. Jay).4 II The foregoing review is, of course, an incomplete sketch.5 But it should suffice to show that as ethics has become a more privileged signifier it has also become an increasingly ductile and thereby potentially confus­ ing one. Ethics as thematics of moral representation manifestly does not equal ethics as self-care, nor does either have the procedural cast of pro­ fessional ethics (“The appropriate faculty members should inform candi­ dates for promotion or tenure of their rights [...]” [Mod. Lang. Assn, of Amer. 76]). In part, this disparity of focus may reflect the relative lack of grounding that ethically valenced literary inquiry has in ethics as a sub­ discipline and tradition within philosophy. No major ethical philosopher from Aristotle to John Rawls has attracted anywhere near the attention among those currently linking literature and ethics that Derrida and Fou­ cault have attracted (neither of them ethicists in any strict sense), with the exception of Levinas, who might rather be called a metaethical thinker than an ethicist proper. In any event, since no specific model for inquiry into ethics is shared by more than a fraction of the scholars working in the various domains of literary theory and criticism, it is more than ordi­ narily perplexing when, as often happens, avowed practitioners of “ethi­ cal” criticism neglect to relate their brand of ethics to its alternatives or to antecedent traditions of moral thematics, the ideology of genre, the deconstructive ethics of reading, the politics of canonicity, and so forth. To date, nobody seems to have worried much about a problem of caco­ phony, however. Perhaps rightly so. Perhaps a certain desultoriness is to be expected of an emerging discourse, or congeries of discourses, strug­ gling with self-definition. A matter of more open dispute is whether the ethical turn, to the extent that it offers something substantively new, is an advance or a retrogression. The swift rise of ethics as a more admired pur­ suit than it had been for several decades can be and has been conceived both honorifically (e.g., as a reactivation of scholarly and pedagogical conscience, as a revival of a once distinguished humanistic sensibility un­ fairly stigmatized in recent years, as a substantial retheorization of alter­ ity) and pejoratively (e.g., as a copycat moral majoritarianism or as a retreat from a politics of social transformation to privatism, as with Teresa L. Ebert’s dismissal of “ethical feminism” as “ludic mystification” that only pretends to honor alterity in a de facto indulgence of its own class privilege [301,230]).6 Regardless of whether one is inclined to be hopeful or suspicious about the promise of ethically valenced literary inquiry, its burgeoning and its increasing currency behoove one to take stock of its distinctive contours. Five seem salient. For one thing, the new ethical inquiry tends to favor recuperation of authorial agency in the production of texts, without ceasing to acknowl­ edge that texts are also in some sense socially constructed: to argue like Attridge in this issue, if not so pointedly, for the importance of “au- thoredness” to the theory of writing and accordingly, “pace Roland Barthes,” for thinking “work” over thinking “text.” In several of the other essays, not only authoredness but also the figure of the historical author is directly relevant. This is especially true for Albrecht, understandably so given the empirical cast of his literary-historical contention. More telling as indicators of directional momentum are the essays by Bradley Butterfield and Mary Beth Tierney-Tello, both of whom seek to diag­ nose the ethical valence of postmodernism. In Butterfield’s adjudication of Baudrillard vis-a-vis Ballard, the case for “a critique of late capitalist forms of morality in favor of a deeper sense of personal liberty and jus­ tice through aesthetic revolution” rests in no small measure on the estab­ lishment of a distinction, especially in Baudrillard’s work, between the deceptive appearance of the “immoral” text and the inferred position of the writer. In Tierney-Tello’s pursuit of the same general question of whether a progressive politics of postmodern discourse is possible, the evidence of Diamela Eltit’s writing itself stands to a greater extent as the chief exhibit, but Tierney-Tello adduces the historical author’s motives and ethnographic scrupulousness as important contributory evidence. More central to ethically valenced theory and criticism overall than the issue of authorial agency, however, is that of readerly responsibility, which indeed is often linked, as by Attridge, to recuperation of authored­ ness. Key to many such accounts of reading ethics is a conception of literature as the reader’s other, a view of the reading relation sharply dif­ ferent from that of traditional reader-response criticism, which tended to celebrate (as did Barthes) readerly appropriation or reinvention. The newer ethical criticism generally envisages reinvention not as free play or an assertion of power but as arising out of conscienceful listening. At­ tridge proposes the model of “the work as stranger, even [...] when the reader knows it intimately”: a stranger to whom one owes respect. In this Levinasian view, the work is an other in the form of a creative act for which readers are called to take responsibility, to allow themselves to become engaged even to the point of being in a sense remade. Tierney- Tello offers a similar argument from a different critical model, derived from minority and postcolonial resistance theory, about Eltit’s avant- gardist versions of testimonies they make an “ethically grounded call for solidarity” to the reader partly by their very resistance to standard ge­ neric expectations that require the reader to hear subaltern voices and see subaltern faces but not fully to grasp, process, or understand them.7 Indeed, one of the most provocative dimensions of Attridge’s theoreti­ cal essay and Tierney-Tello’s exegesis is their readiness to push as far as they do the image of engagement with text (work) as encounter with vir­ tual person. The hesitancy with which Booth proceeded a decade ago when reviving the long-dormant Victorian metaphor of the book as friend (Company 168-96), another version of the general notion of reading as an interpersonal act, now seems less necessary. Haney makes no bones about claiming “genuine ethical significance” for metaphors like “friend” used to characterize literary works and about pressing the inference, drawn from Hans-Georg Gadamer’s “On the Contribution of Poetry to the Search for Truth,” that “the process by which the truth of a poem is revealed is instructively similar to the unconcealing that goes on in the ethical hermeneutics of being open to [...] the truth of another person.” The image of textual encounter as personal encounter is not without its perils, three of them being the temptation to reify the metaphor, the implication that reader resistance is unethical (a symptom of obtuseness, of insensitivity, of ethical underdevelopment), and an astringency to­ ward aesthetics as such like that displayed by Levinas—the most influ­ ential recent theorist of self-other relations.8 Yet the model of reading experience as a scene of virtual interpersonality that enacts, activates, or otherwise illuminates ethical responsibility may nonetheless prove one of the most significant innovations of the literature-and-ethics move­ ment. If so, two important reasons will probably be the antiauthoritarian valorization of alterity flowing into this body of reflection from Levinas and from postcolonial criticism and the model’s insistence, as Attridge puts it, on the self-other dynamic as “an active or eventlike relation.” A third important dimension of the newer literary-ethical inquiry, more familiar but no less important, is interest in descrying an ethos or incipi­ ent ethical teleology implicit in specific discourse modes (Butterfield), genre templates (Tierney-Tello), or formal structures at the level of the individual artifact (Tierney-Tello, Haney). Haney theorizes the underly­ ing idea most fully in his redescription of selected Romantic poetic and critical projects as expressing a bipolarity between Aristotelian phrone- sis (practical wisdom) and techne, a bipolarity that he correlates with the imagination-versus-fancy distinction, arguing that new historicism over­ rode this problematic by its conception of “aesthetic thought as cultural labor,” a reduction of the aesthetic to techne. The approach to literary texts as arenas of ethical reflection by reason of their formal or generic contours is pursued in much other recent work in literature and ethics as well, especially studies of narrative genres (Booth, Company, Nussbaum, Love’s Knowledge and Poetic Justice; Newton, Narrative Ethics and “Exegesis”; Harpham, Getting 157-82). If there is a mainstream approach to ethical-critical readings of particular literary works today, this is probably it. A fourth preoccupation of the newer literary-ethical inquiry appears in Haney’s analogy between the semiantagonistic interdependence of phronesis and techne and the ethics-morality distinction, a distinction on which Attridge also comments. Both understand ethics as ethical sensi­ bility or orientation and see morality as codes of rules (“specific obliga­ tions governing concrete situations in a social context,” according to Attridge). Yet Attridge wants to pry the two notions apart as far as possi­ ble by associating ethics with “unpredictability and risk,” whereas Haney argues for their ultimate inseparability. This felt divergence despite a shared desire to posit a similar distinction epitomizes a more pervasive concern within contemporary literature-and-ethics conversations to en­ dorse a notion of responsibility not bound to rule while acknowledging some sort of relation between the categories ethics and morality. Booth’s effort to affirm plural reader responses without falling into critical rela­ tivism (Company), Nussbaum’s vision of a Jamesian rhetoric as a “dia­ logue between perception and rule” (Love’s Knowledge 157), Harpham’s idea that discourse confers imperativity without specifying particular obligations (Getting 5), and above all Levinas’s conception of responsi­ bility for the other as signifying “not the disclosure of a given and its re­ ception, but the exposure of me to the other, prior to every decision” (Otherwise 141)—all these seem to work with and through the same problematic: to adjudicate the relation between disposition and norma- tivity, whether it is considered from the standpoint of author, of reader, of language, or of human relations.9 The problem, or opportunity, of the fuzzy border that looms up when one considers the ethics-morality distinction is analogous to—some might say continuous with—the even more vexing problem of the rela­ tion or distinction between the personal and the sociopolitical. Virtually all parties would agree, whether or not they approve of “postmodern eth­ ics,” that “the only space where the moral act can be performed is the social space of ‘being with’ ” (Bauman 185). But that consensus far from resolves the question of whether and how the ethical does or does not entail the “political.” Perhaps the touchiest single issue for both exem­ plars and critics of the ethical turn is the issue of whether it boils down, whatever the nominal agenda, to a privatization of human relations that makes the social and the political secondary. Ethics is a gallingly (or ex­ citingly?) ambidextrous signifier that points toward both private and public domains. Whereas Foucault’s explicit turn toward ethics marked a shift of attention from structures of domination to practices of self- actualization, for Levinas ethics as first philosophy presupposes the pri­ ority of the claim of the other on the self. Again, on the one hand, Julia Kristeva understands ethics “to mean the negativizing of narcissism within a practice; in other words, a practice is ethical when it dissolves those narcissistic fixations (ones that are narrowly confined to the sub- ject) to which the signifying process succumbs in its sociosymbolic rela­ tion” (233). Yet, on the other hand, for Tobin Siebers “the discipline of ethics remains inextricably fused to the problem of human character,” such that from the standpoint of ethical criticism even “the desire to elim­ inate the constitutive self of literature has ethical motivations that cannot be renounced” (5). As in this issue of PMLA, the heterogeneous body of theory that animates contemporary literature-and-ethics talk and informs the critical readings based on that talk conveys predictably mixed sig­ nals—to the point that some theorists of ethics and the literary have come to favor terminological hybrids like “ethical/political” (Steele, Theorizing 29, 112) or “ethics-politics” (Newton, “Exegesis” and Narrative Ethics). Likewise, in the five essays that follow the ethical turn manifests itself in (re)new(ed) attention, on the one hand, to the interpersonal as the basis of both reading and sociality (Attridge) and to the rehabilitation of aesthetic autonomy as “an ethical autonomy” (Haney) and, on the other hand, to the sociopolitical dimension of a thinker understood until re­ cently to be more narrowly individualistic (Albrecht on Emerson) and to ethical aesthetics as political intervention (Tierney-Tello). Nothing is more certain than that the question of the place of the socio­ political will continue to be debated within and around contemporary ethical criticism. For no matter how strongly literary-ethical inquiry as­ serts the inseparability of social and personal, the starting point of “oblig­ ation” will continue to seem suspiciously privatistic to many social and cultural constructionists, not to mention neo-Marxist materialists like Ebert. Ethical critics will therefore likely remain under pressure to dem­ onstrate how exactly obligation might be understood as potent not only “culturally” but also historically and politically. In a statement that brings together the two polarities of ethics/morality and ethical-moral/political, Levinas encapsulates pretty well both the as­ piration of founding a social vision on the conception of obligation to another and the risks thereof. “Morality,” he insists, “is what governs the world of political ‘interestedness’ but “the norm which must continue to inspire and direct the moral order is the ethical norm of the interhu­ man,” which admittedly “cannot itself legislate for society or produce rules of conduct whereby society might be revolutionised or transformed” but which nonetheless is the “foundation” of the “moral-political order,” without which that order “must accept all forms of society including the fascist or totalitarian, for it can no longer evaluate or discriminate be­ tween them” (“Ethics” 194-95). As Levinas’s extremely brief remarks on social justice make additionally clear (Otherwise 157-61), he con­ siders it an indispensable but derivative codification of interhumanity. This mode of thinking invites at least three criticisms. First, it is self­ contradictory: it insists on antifoundationalism, but it supplies a founda­ tion (interhumanity) to guard against the inference that, as Niall Lucy shows (204-10), can be drawn from a purely relativistic conception of ethics: “fascism is an ethics, though it may not be one that many of us would choose to affirm” (Lucy 236). But forgive that, and Levinas is still vulnerable from at least two directions. From one side (the left, basi­ cally) comes this rejoinder: How can moral precepts (e.g., honor the claim of the other) form the basis of social collectives and ensure a re­ formed society or polity? And even if they can, is there not even some­ thing oppressively homogenizing, if not totalizing, about Levinas’s “other”? (Irigiray declares, “The other, [as] woman, he does not notice her existence” [116].)10 From the other side (the right, basically) comes this interrogation: How ethical is the ethos of allowing oneself to be held hostage, without mutuality of personal obligation or a social con­ tract at the foundation of it? From this standpoint, binding oneself to the other annihilates not only moral individualism (Ricoeur; see my n8) but, potentially, the other as well, for “unless you hold others responsible for the ends that they choose and the actions that they do, you cannot regard them as moral and rational agents, and so you will not treat them as ends in themselves” (Korsgaard 206). Two predictions might be made with some confidence. First, the scene of interpersonality, or interhumanity, to which current ethical criti­ cism has been strongly attracted, will continue to exert its power, as the critique of the paradigms of 1970s textuality and 1980s historicism con­ tinues to run its course, while at the same time pressures internal (see Levinas) and external (see Ebert) will continue to push to make ethicity more sociopolitically accountable or else will do away with it altogether. Second, the staying power of literary-ethical inquiry will depend in no small measure on its capacity either to self-correct or to be corrected, its emphasis on interhumanity for example better synthesized with a social and/or political ethics. Meanwhile, there is much to learn, much more than this introduction can encompass, from the literature-and-ethics con­ versations held so far, as the five essays in this issue show. It is high time for these essays to speak for themselves. Notes My thanks go to Kriss Basil, James Dawes, Sianne Ngai, and Doris Sommer for their pen­ etrating responses to earlier versions of this essay and to the Center for Literary and Cul­ tural Studies at Harvard University and the Americanist Seminar at the University of California, Irvine, for the opportunity to present and discuss some of these ideas. Significant single-author books of literary theory and criticism devoted entirely or pri­ marily to ethics since 1987 include Miller (Ethics and Versions), Booth (Company), Nuss­ baum (Love’s Knowledge and Poetic Justice), Siebers, Harpham (Getting), Parker, Norris, Newton (Narrative Ethics), and Eaglestone. Also notable is the recent increase in books not primarily about ethics per se that include ethics in the title or subtitle (e.g., Phelan; Chow). 2The original (1990) edition of Lentricchia and McLaughlin’s Critical Terms for Literary Study had no entry titled “Ethics”; Harpham’s essay was added for the second edition (1995). 3Veyne comments plausibly, “Foucault judged it as undesirable as it would be impossi­ ble to resuscitate this ethics; but he considered one of its elements, namely, the idea of a work of the self on the self, to be capable of reacquiring a contemporary meaning”; “the self, taking itself as a work to be accomplished,” he surmises further, “could sustain an ethics that is no longer supported by either tradition or reason [...]” (7). 4G. Jay does not hesitate to frame issues of canonicity and their implications for peda­ gogical practice as ethical issues, as when he discusses the teacher-student dynamic in an intercultural classroom (e.g., 143). Lauter, however, tends to think of questions involving ought as ideological and therefore not to recognize ethics as a distinct, much less a privi­ leged, sphere (e.g., 257). Likewise, Smith and Guillory are both centrally concerned with issues of “value,” but especially with regard to the dependence of aesthetics on economics (within the history and discourse of capitalism) rather than to evaluation as an ethical proj­ ect (although see Smith 158-66). Lauter’s, Smith’s, and Guillory’s shared commitment, albeit very differently expressed, to unpacking the phenomenon of social-institutional con­ trols over interpretation distinguishes their work from that of the ethical turn proper at least as markedly as does the earlier work of Foucault, although by the same token their work seems also in a certain degree to presage that turn, especially if, for example, one’s starting point, like that of Jay—who cites all three admiringly—is the pragmatic question of “what to do in the wake of the end of consensus and the advent of multiculturalism” (6). To a considerable extent, Jay’s American Literature and the Culture Wars might be thought of as the saga of the conscience of a critical-teacherly sensibility who seeks to make practical application of institutions-oriented analyses by precursors like Lauter, Smith, and Guillory. In this framework, “ethics” and “politics” of critical practice easily converge. 5Conspicuous omissions include the relation of contemporary literary-ethical study to the destabilization of gender categories by feminist and queer theory, to Bakhtinian dialo- gism, to Habermasian discourse ethics, and to ecocriticism. 6Ebert cites Cornell (113) here, but she includes in the wide sweep of her Marxist cri­ tique all theoretical discourses, feminist or not, that she sees as abandoning the possibility of “a socially transformative politics” by “positing history as narrative, as discursive event” (230, 229). 7 A different version of reading ethics is being developed along the lines of Foucauldian self-care: reading as a praxis of self-discipline or self-improvement. See, e.g., Augst, in a history-of-the-book-studies context. 8With regard to the authority Levinas grants the other over the I, Ricoeur is particularly vehement in denouncing what he takes to be “the hyperbole of exteriority” in Otherwise Than Being, with its conception of the I as needing to open itself to the persecutions of the other, “who, as an offender, no less requires the gesture of pardon and expiation” (Ricoeur 339, 338). With regard to Levinas’s antiaestheticism, on which Haney also remarks, Eagle­ stone makes a brave attempt (154-70) to redeem Levinas from his expressions of Platonis- tic distrust for artifacts as substitutions of image for object by working from his valorization of “saying” (in Otherwise), which Levinas uses as an honorific metaphor for ethical ex­ pressivity. Eaglestone (like Haney) fully recognizes, however, that it is easier to make the case for Levinas as a kind of verbal artist than as a philosopher of an ethical aesthetics. ’This is by no means to assert that all forms of contemporary literary-ethical inquiry presuppose commitment to a “postmodern” understanding of ethics (Bauman, e.g., 10-15) as ungrounded in moral codes or laws, save for the postulate of a “moral self constituted by responsibility” (11). Levinas and Harpham would probably accept this premise; Booth and Nussbaum probably would not. All seem keenly interested in the ethics-morality or disposition-codes problematic, however. 10See, however, Chalier’s defense of Levinas’s feminism and Chanter’s equivocal ap­ praisal, in the same volume. Spivak is even more categorical than Irigiray, asserting that the whole “subject-ship of ethics is certainly male” for Levinas (“French Feminism” 76). 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work_xn2sjve2m5fplb2dsozq4qr72m	----	Metaphysical Approach for Design Functionality in Malay-Islamic Architecture Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Available online at www.sciencedirect.com ScienceDirect 1877-0428 © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of AMER (Association of Malaysian Environment-Behaviour Researchers) and cE-Bs (Centre for Environment-Behaviour Studies, Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia. doi: 10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.08.231 ASEAN-Turkey ASLI (Annual Serial Landmark International) Conference on Quality of Life 2014, ABRA International Conference on Quality of Life, AQoL2014, 26-28 December 2014, Istanbul, Turkey Metaphysical Approach for Design Functionality in Malay-Islamic Architecture Nor Aniswati Awang Laha*, Mohamad Hanif Abdul Wahabb, David Kohc, Masran Saruwonob aMARA Arts and Design Excellence Centre (MADEC), Kolej Kemahiran Tinggi MARA, Rembau, N. Sembilan and 71400, Malaysia bFaculty of Architecture, Planning and Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA (UiTM), Shah Alam, Selangor and 40150, Malaysia cEnvironology Dept., Malaysian Instutute of Geomancy Sciences (MINGS), Solaris Dutamas, Kuala Lumpur and 50480, Malaysia Abstract This paper presents the findings of a study on metaphysical approaches to building design. Three major Asian cultures, the Chinese-Buddhist, Indian-Hindu, and Malay-Islam, are reviewed. There are similarities found in principles towards achieving the occupants’ well-being. Functionality became priority and rituals are performed at ensuring the well-being and prosperity of future occupants. Whereas, the Chinese-Buddhist practice is called Feng Shui, the Indian-Hindu tradition is based on Vastu-Vidya. The Malay-Islam is extractions from religious teachings written in a manuscript titled Tajul Muluk. The paper concludes that metaphysical approach could still play its roles in the design today. © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Peer-review under responsibility of AMER (Association of Malaysian Environment-Behaviour Researchers) and cE-Bs (Centre for Environment-Behaviour Studies, Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia. Keywords: Metaphysics; functional; geomancy; environology 1. Introduction Contemporary building designs have been criticized for having little or no reference to the natural and spiritual context in which the building stands. Such neglect had probably contributed to failures of buildings to function as intended. We have some information about traditional approaches based on old practices that take care of every aspect but have not seemed to be considered, or just forgotten. In many instances, certain failures of are just *Corresponding author. Tel.: +6-012-633-5054; fax: +6-060-697-0590. E-mail address: aniswati@kktmr.edu.my. © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of AMER (Association of Malaysian Environment-Behaviour Researchers) and cE-Bs (Centre for Environment-Behaviour Studies, Faculty of Architecture, Planning & Surveying, Universiti Teknologi MARA, Malaysia. http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.08.231&domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.sbspro.2015.08.231&domain=pdf 274 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 unexplainable. Thus, it would be beneficial to rediscover the ancient systems that may be useful for consideration during the design process. 2. Literature review on functional design and traditional practices Le Corbusier and Van Doesburg in 1924 had stressed the importance of functionality that shall be the ultimate goal of the design. Eventually, it became the philosophy of most architectural schools all over the world. ‘Functionality’ is a quality criterion of a building that makes it sustainable and serving the needs of people. Designing for the “well-being” became the end goal of any buildings that brings together a sense of dignity and pride within the design environment (Caan, 2011). Caan insists that the design is to create a comfort zone in satisfying human five senses, health, and harmonious feelings; thus, encouraging towards a sense of inspiration and motivation. Such philosophy had already been practiced by a populace of the Malay ancient kingdom (Al-Ahmadi, 2006; Gibbs, 1987) and peoples in other Asian countries like China and India. These old practices had established systems that became guidelines in planning and designed for their buildings or settlements. It can argue that in the case of the Malay practices, the system had undergone various transformational changes; from Animism, Hindu-Buddhism, and then Islam, which still survives in the present form. The metaphysical approach system is a guide to satisfy the human’s enthusiasm for a more successful life; harmonious, healthy, upholding and advancement. It provides a set of followed rules to have the best alignment of the proposed building with the entire universe (Gibbs, 1987; Koh, 2003; Pegrum, 2000). This alignment was relating to the sciences of the cosmos or cosmology (Akkach, 2005) and is interrelated to the arts and science of Geomancy (MacLean, 1997). Today, the term ‘environology’ is commonly used to denote this practice (Malaysian Institute of Geomancy Sciences, 2014). Metaphysics is a branch of philosophy that consists an abstract theory that beyond the reality (Oxford University Press, 2014). It relates to the unseen flow of energy forces that can felt through experiencing. The word ‘energy’ was identified as the ability to be active in terms of the physical or mental strength. It allows people to behave which relates to naturally enthusiasm and effort; usable power that comes from heat, electricity, etc. (Merriam Webster, 2014). The Metaphysical approach revolves around the Universe and the Earth. It was interconnecting to each other by an ‘electromagnetic field’ and other forces, such as gravity, uptake of earth forces, cosmic forces, etc. The same nature applies for buildings designed by humans, aiming to achieve sustainability. 2.1. Relevance of metaphysics consideration in the design of modern buildings According to Dr. R. Tatang Santanu Adikara, the Head of Bioenergy Research Centre in Surabaya, human gets energy from two sources: inside the human body and outside the human body (Mustofa, 2011). The inside energy comes from chromosomes and genetic inheritance such as spirits (parents and ancestor), motivation (religion and culture), and belief (lifestyle and personal). Whereas, the outside energy comes from food, water, and interaction with the surrounding natural environment. The cosmic energy consists visible (physical) and invisible (metaphysical) energy forces that can maintain the harmony of the universe by controlling it. It may also influence all events on earth, including a home, as a microcosmic level. The Chinese Feng-Shui regarded the energy forces as ‘Qi’ (Huang, 2012), and Indian Vāstu- Vidya considered it as ‘Purusha’ (Pegrum, 2000) Meanwhile, Malay Tajul Muluk called it ‘Semangat’ (Fee, 1998; Gibbs, 1987) and ‘Rijalul Ghaib’ (Al-Ahmadi, 2006). N. Annadale in 1903 wrote about the Patani’s Malays in the 20th century regarding the Malay house and its ‘semangat rumah’ or ‘house soul’ (Fee, 1998). It was claim that the ‘semangat’ would automatically exist once the wall and the roof are fitting together. The vitality and the well-being of the house and its occupants are regarded as interdependent. David Koh, an acclaimed environology master, has stated; ‘When people built the house, the energy inside the house is static. Once the people live in, the energy inside the house is dynamic. People may affect the building, and the building may affect the people. And it’s not positive thinking that the people need, but it’s energy that makes people think positively”. Koh’s statement echoes what Gibbs (1987 cited in Idrus, 1996) described; “The house is similar to human beings. It also requires ‘semangat’. A house without ‘semangat’ looks empty and isolated”. Today, 275 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 the modern science proved that it is the ‘ions energy’ which involves the interactions of positive and negative charges- electromagnetic (Campbell & Reece, 2002). Energy is needs by humans and all creatures in sustaining life. The Islamic description of the energy as ‘Zat’. As stated in the Quran: “And of everything We have created pairs” [Al-Qur’an 51:49], “Glory to Allah, Who created in pairs all things that the earth produces, as well as their own (human) kind and (other) things of which they have no knowledge.” [Al-Qur’an 36:36]. A contemporary Islamic scholar, Dr. Zakir Naik also says that; “This refers to the things other than humans, animals, plants, and fruits. It may also be referring to a phenomenon like electricity in which the atoms consist of negatively- and positively- charged electrons and protons. The Qur’an here says that everything is created in pairs, including things that the humans do not know at present and may discover later”. (Naik, 2001). These statements strengthen the existence of the magnetic energy that is governing the whole universe as macrocosmic level, and human, as microcosmic level. According to Pegrum (2000), the Greek understood the existence of magnetism as early as 600 BC, and in the first century, the Chinese had already invented a magnetic compass. Meanwhile, the ancient Sages of India were aware of a geomagnetic field of the earth which forms a grid around the globe. Koh (2003) notes that according to the Chinese cosmology the universe is the union of ‘ying’ (positive energy) and ‘yang’ (negative energy). All those culture-religion belief systems are interrelated, but interpretations from people of different cultures varied considerably. The Malay-Islamic architectural tradition as represented in ‘Tajul Muluk’ is a clear example of this circumstance. The practice has integrated biophysical building features with the cultural traditions. The cultural tradition gives shape to the building, especially the interior space, creates images to its users and can lead to a social interaction Ayalp (2013) describes as ‘cultural identity’. The method requires a total sensory system i.e. sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch, which associated with the interaction between people and the natural environment. Kaplan (1996) finds that the interaction supports human’s spiritual path that affects the human body, mind, and motivation that is still relevant today. 3. The Chinese Feng Shui In the Chinese tradition, this belief system, which originated some 1000 years ago, is known as ‘Feng Shui’(Lip, 1997). The word ‘feng’ means wind and ‘shui’ means water (Huang, 2012). Feng Shui is the art of placement with reference to the physical landform, climatic conditions, and geographical location, and so on. The theory of five elements is a concept on how human got benefit from the balanced interaction with nature. The five elements and producing cycle in chronological manners are water, wood, fire, earth, and metal. The other considered way is contrasting cycle that should be avoided. The ancient Chinese believed that the universe consisted of the union of ‘yin’ and ‘yang’. It was symbolized by the sign of Taiji and the eight trigrams as the primary and fundamental references as shown in Figure 2(a). There are a few other methods of practicing systems by Feng Shui Master over the century, such as Eight Mansions Method, Flying Stars Method, and the Magic Square. There are four basic Feng Shui methods in Environology practices: identification, selection, matching and energizing the internal or even external environments. It involves a very sophisticated system with a combination of numerical binary number sectors with a magnetic compass that can only be done by a professional Environology Master. The Environology Magic Square became the main essential guidance of the practice system beside other cycles such as the cycle of nature’s elements, cycle of forces, and cosmic cycles (governing planet and 3-killers). The eight sectors of Magic Square, shown in Figure 1(b), demonstrate how the Environology practices were determined as the good and bad areas in a given space. It includes the position of the entrance door, the rooms, the kitchen, and the position of enhancing elements. Meanwhile, Figure 1(c) shows the movement sectors in creating a dynamic atomic movement inside a built space. 276 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Fig.1. (a) The ‘Taiji’ Sysmbols and The Eight Trigrams, (b) The Environology Magic Square and (c) The Dynamic Atomic Movement in relation to the Organ Placement Sectors. Source: Lip, (1997); Koh, (2003) 4. The Indian Vastu-Vidya In Indian, ‘Vastu’ means dwell and ‘Vidya’ means science (Pegrum, 2000). Indian culture also believed that there are five natural elements – ether, earth, air, water, and fire – which are known as Maha Bhutas (Pegrum, 2000). All the five elements in the form of human’s five senses (hearing, touch, sight, taste, and smell). The elements need to be present within a space to make it vibrant and filled with positive energy. According to Indian philosophy, if the house is properly laid out according to the five elements, the living occupants will be normal and enjoy a good health. The Vedic Magic Square: the ancients used Cosmic Symbols Numbers as a means of linking the microcosm to the macrocosm and show the flow of the cosmic energy (Figure 2(b). The activities of the cosmic energy forces were illustrating with diagrams and symbols. According to Pegrum, the Ancient Sages of India claimed that the cosmic energy was receiving from the northeast (Eashanya) and moves towards the southwest. There is a must to create ‘preserving zone’, by keeping the southwest corner blocked (no doorways), the positive energy entering from the northeast will be prevented from leaving the space. Fig. 2. (a) The Hindu Numerology: Calculation of Vedic Square, (b) The heart of Vastu Purusha and the gently meandering movement of Prana from northeast to southwest (c) The Ibnu Arabi Cosmic Order. Source: Pegrum, (2000); Akkach, (2005) The first produced diagram consists one square called Sakala. Then, it is divided into nine equal divisions on each side to make a total of 81 squares called Paramasyika or Vedic Square. Each square was numbering as in Figure 2(a), and those numbers above nine with two figures are reducing to one number by adding them together. The square is also considered Magic Diagram relating to the planets. It was claim that the origins of the Vedic Head Ears/Kidney Hands Mouth/Lungs Stomach Legs/Liver Stomach Eyes/Heart Bottom (a) (b) (c) (b) (c) N S The Heart of VastuPurusha or Domain of Brahma (a) (a) 277 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Square was from the Muslim artists and craftsmen for many hundred years in creating fantastic geometric patterns (Pegrum, 2000). It truly seems match with the Ibnu Arabi cosmic order diagram system that is based on geometric patterns as shown in Figure 2(c). 5. The Malay-Islamic traditional text on building planning and design The Malay traditional architecture was well-known with its sophisticated systems and functional space. This traditional system has been using ethics anthropology as a proportion measurement of the building over many centuries (Al-Ahmadi, 2006; Gibbs, 1987). Malay people are also the most expert people in carpentry skill and knowledgeable in building their houses and even their boats or ships. In Malay kingdom, there is a book called ‘Tajul Muluk’ that means the Royal Crown of Jewels and dedicated to the Royal Family (Gibbs, 1987). It has combined the text with a charming book (belonging to a ‘bomoh’) called ‘Pawang Book’ as a guide in planning and design of buildings. The book consists varieties of architectural rule prescriptions, the do's and taboos. Which if followed, the people will get the ‘positive payoff’ or ‘rewards’. The prescription scripts as shown in Figure 3(a) in a diagram form with detailed do’s and taboos in Figure 3(b). The rules for identifying the auspicious date and site, the building orientation, and the placement methods of good and bad sectors of their space planning are describing in detail. Fig. 3. (a) The TajulMuluk Scripts Diagram System (b) The Do's and Taboos scripts based on the Malay Tajul Muluk diagram system as translated by Al-Ahmadi. Sources: Al-Ahmadi, (2006) 5.1. The influence of Islam on Malay architecture The spread of religions throughout many centuries in the world is the primary controlling factor towards the changes in the belief system practiced by the Malay people. The system was modified to suit the changing religion and belief that influence them. The Hindu-Buddhism religion influences were spread in the Malay Kingdoms in the early C.E. (A. H. Abdullah, 2001). It is after animism and old ‘Dongson’ culture (Rasdi, Ali, Ariffin, Mohamad, & Mursib, 2005). The coming of Islam by traders then again influenced the Malay traditional architecture design practice system. The Malay culture and Islamic religion believed that there were only four elements, ‘spirits,’ that shape nature: Earth, Water, Fire, and Air (Akkach, 2005; Gibbs, 1987). According to Ibn Arabi, there are four natures of the human biological structures derived from the four principal elements (arkan) (Akkach, 2005). The yellow bile came from Fire, the black bile from Earth, blood from Air, and phlegm from Water. In addition, God provided man with four natural forces —attractive, fixative, digestive, and repulsive — to enable the functioning of these natures. SUNRISE SUNSET (a) (b) THE DOS THE TABOOS 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 1 1 1 2 2 2 2 2 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 4 4 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 5 4 6 6 6 6 6 6 7 7 7 7 8 278 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Fig. 4. (a) The ‘Wufik’ diagram with numeral numbers (b) Another types of diagram shows the line of admiral. Both (a) and (b) normally write-up on a piece of (c) white cloth located at the top of ‘Tiang Seri’ post. Source: M. Y. Abdullah, (2012) There is also a numerical magic square, and symbols were drawn on a piece of white cloth called ‘wufik’ in Arabic letters as shown in Figure 4(a). The cloth was placed at the top of the ‘tiangseri’ post, as Figure 4(c). It is believed to be a guard against the evil spirits. The numbering values surprisingly have the same value numbers as the Environology Magic Square, but in different position sectors. The Islamic practices had changed a few existing rituals, the orientation of the building and the carving motif towards geometric patterns with a combination of flora and fauna. 6. Discussions and findings The chief goal for designing buildings in all cultures is to attain well-being for its occupants. Malay architecture had evolved through the years influenced by their religious beliefs which started from animism to Hinduism and finally, Islam. Islam believes that human’s creation became the most significant invention and preferred by Allah. When the energy inside human generated by heart is able to be corrected, all other God's creations such as water, fire, wind, earth, animals, etc. will move correctly (Abidin, 1984). The Prophet Muhammad s.a.w also stated that, "There is in the body a clump of flesh - if it becomes good, the whole body becomes good and if it becomes bad, the whole body becomes bad. And indeed it is the heart". The heart becomes the most important organ in the body that will directly affect human behavior. A soft vibratory frequency, called ‘nuriman’ or electromagnetic energy in modern scientific terms, is produced by heart and can influence the human mind and body (Mustofa, 2011). Meanwhile, the ancient Malay people called that energy as ‘semangat’. The ‘semangat’ is linked with the breath of life - ‘nyawa’ and spirits of life- ‘ruh’ (Noor & Khoo, 2003). The combination of these three forces will be able to make people react rationally, intellectually, and creatively. It seems to be the same for a building to be designed by human in Islamic practice that is already applied in Malay-Islamic architecture. 6.1. The metaphysic principles of design in Malay-Islamic Architecture There is ‘tiangseri’ in Malay architecture that represented the heart. Typically, it is located in the living area and has become the most important part and the first element to be raised up in any Malay building construction, representing the ‘heart’ of human creation. An Austronesian universal law related to the house post claimed that it must not be inverted (Fee, 1998). It should be ‘planted’ with the ‘base’ or trunk end down and the ‘tip’ up. According to Environology studies, everything at the top is the ‘yang’, and the bottom is the ‘ying’. If the function of the heart is to control the movement of the energy forces such as the air and the water inside the body, the same is supposed to be true about the ‘tiangseri’. The post perhaps functions as a magnetic bar inside the house. The ‘base’ is a negative charge, and the ‘tip’ is a positive charge. This magnetic bar forces the flow of the wind and water towards inside and surroundings of the building. It is similar to the concept of ‘the right-hand rule’. According to a renowned Malay tukang, there is a hole was made at the bottom of the post ‘base’ of the ‘tiangseri’ and is filled with silver or gold coins. According to Environology studies, living wood is accompanied 2 9 4 7 5 3 6 1 8 (b) (a) (c) 279 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 with wood living force. The wood in physical form known as ‘ying’ wood; meanwhile, the wood’s energy (force) is known as ‘yang’ wood. The living wood needs fire (electromagnetic energy) and is fearful of metal; meanwhile, all the dead wood needs metal and fears fire and being burned. The wood will die without living forces. Environology studies also claimed that nature’s elements such as wood, stone, metal, fire, and water can absorb energy (semangat). The energy could be either the lightness energy like the sun (electromagnetic energy) or darkness energy like deities. The selection of types of wood for the ‘tiangseri’ and other posts consider a few characteristics and methods of preparation with appropriate rituals. Nature is containing lightness energy, also known as electromagnetic energy, is considering good. The types of land such black soil or near to sea and human settlements at higher altitudes find that the wood is good and stronger ‘semangat’ (Noor & Khoo, 2003). If the people disobey the rules in the selection of wood, perhaps a misfortune will ‘payoff’ towards the occupant because it hosts the darkness energy. Islam believes that soft vibratory frequency (nuriman) can be produced by controlling human desire (nafs). The desire can be controlled with proper attitudes, uttering verses, humility of salat, patience, contributing benefits towards others’ life, group of salat, knowledge understanding, and healthy interaction with nature. According to Mustofa, the humility of ‘salat’ towards Allah s.w.t produces higher positive ion energy. That’s why group ‘salat’ (jamaah) becomes the compulsory rituals of Malay-Islamic people before inhabiting a new building. This practice is compatible with the modern science called resonance. Resonance happens when the same frequencies of energy that meet each other will automatically transform into an extra-large frequency of energy. Since the wood as an element of nature tends to absorb energy from surroundings, this ritual becomes a part of positive ion energy accumulation towards the center. The interactions between the magnetic bar (positive ion energy) and natural energy forces such as the wind and water (negative ion energy) produce electromagnetic energy forces. This energy can accumulate with the proportion and auspicious shape, form, and space of the building. The forces (invisible) are acting as a shield for the house. The protection is working like security barriers to protect against the invisible and the visible darkness energy of intruders from entering the building. Deities are instances of the invisible intruders. Meanwhile, the apparent intruders’ examples are humans with evil intentions or animals. Besides, the building also acts like a comfort filter to defend against the effect of nature (heat, moist, cold, and dry) and decease (bacteria) carried by water and virus carried by wind). This practice is also compatible with the Islamic way of life. Since the positive ion energy of human with the God’s will, can heal and prevent sickness (healthy), besides calming the people’s mind (harmonious). 6.2. Assessment of functional performance on Malay-Islamic Architecture As stated previously, the sources of energy inside human come from a chromosome and genetic inheritance such as spirits, motivation, and belief. The references to the Malay traditional house is the human’s cosmic structure characteristics as shown in Figure 5. The firmness of the form and the esthetics of the sense of the building were referring on how God created human structure and personal characteristics. The house is representing the owners to whom it belongs (Al-Ahmadi, 2006). The external form of the house metaphorically represents the male owner (husband) and his personal characteristics. For example, in Melaka, the house is divided into three main parts: post as feet, body, and roof as head. Meanwhile, in Negeri Sembilan, besides the three main sections, people added other body parts such as neck, shoulder, eyes, ears, hair, and ‘songkok’. Meanwhile, the interior space of the house represents the inner body of the female partner (wife) and her personal characteristics. The internal measurement is referring to the size of the wife anthropology. 280 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Fig. 5. The Human Body with the Malay House Analogy. Sources: Idrus, (1996) (pg.67) Fig. 6. (a) The carving motif that represented genetic inheritance symbolism. (b), (c) and (d) Shows the motivation and belief of personal characteristics in rumah Tukang Kahar, Negeri Sembilan. Sources: Awang Lah, N.A., (2014) There are different carving motifs that represent genetic inheritance symbolism and personal characteristics of the owner of the ‘Tukang Kahar’ (Kahar the Craftsman) house in Negeri Sembilan. It became one of the traditional Malay-Islamic architectures, more than 100 years old and still exists till today (Rasdi et al., 2005). Figure 6(a) shows the motif of carving tool of a craftsman. According to a renowned Malay tukang, the motif is the same with one found in Sumatera. Perhaps their ancestors came from the same origin and inherited a craftsmanship. The ‘Tukang Kahar’ is a well-known artist who designed and built the Istana Seri Menanti. He is very knowledgeable about Malay-Islamic architecture with high quality of workmanship through a combination of flora and fauna carving motif. His house became the evidence of his professionalism, for which the Malay ‘Tajul Muluk’ becomes his primary reference guidance.The experience of space should satisfy all human five senses, visual, smell, sound, touch, and taste, towards the psychological balance in human behavior. That basic design discipline and practices is still felt but less commonly carried out today. In traditional Malay-Islamic architecture, the sight of human should form the surrounding environment; for example, earthy colors and shape with proportion carving motif (geometric pattern and ‘awanlarat’ as shown in Figure 6). The Malay-Islamic people are very concerned about symbolism, a reminder of the human being, since human is just a weaker servant of God, careless and always forgotten. The symbols, which appear inside and surrounding the house, became a reminder for motivation on their identity and Lord. The human’s hearing also should achieve a balance towards the natures’ surrounding sound. The nose should smell nature’s fresh odor. Meanwhile, the taste should be comfortable with the surrounding temperature, air pressure, and humidity in achieving thermal comfort. Lastly, the touch should explore the natural varieties of physical sensation. That’s fostering the design for the well- being. (a) (b) (c) (d) Head Body Feet The Malay house and the analogy of human body parts 281 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 6.3. The functions of the built space There are four other principles besides the ‘tiangseri’, which can maximize the energy accumulation in the space. The first principle is the orientation of the building based on the cosmic structure. Frequently, the direction of the building is determined by four cardinal points (baruh, darat, hilir, hulu). The front façade of the building should face the baruh, and the back was considered as darat (Idrus, 1996). The baruh refers to a flat terrain land and should face the sunrise, but it sometimes faces the river or a mountain. The face of the building is determined by natural or built object that dominates the external environment. The adjustment depends on the site condition, for which nature’s element apparently dominates the surrounding environment. The coming of the Islam to the Malay Kingdom around the 14th century has changed several principles of the previous practice of Malay architecture system. The Malay-Islamic buildings usually face the ‘qibla’, just like the Muslims do when they perform ‘salat’. Muslims believed that the ‘qibla’ is the strongest energy accumulation of the believers on earth that was directly connected to the heaven (Mustofa, 2011). That’s why the toilets are said to be best built away from the direction of ‘qibla’. However, there are exceptions towards this orientation as stated in hadiths; narrated Abu Ayyub al-Ansari: Allah’s Apostle said: “If anyone of you goes to an open space for answering the call of nature, he should neither face nor turn his back towards the qibla” (Sahih Bukhari, Vol. 1:106). Meanwhile, according to Idrus, the Malay house should face the ‘baruh’ and one of the longest building sides should face the ‘qibla’, even less accurate. The second principle is the configuration of the building’s form and space which should metaphorically based on the concentric composition of the cosmic structure of human. The ‘tiangseri’ as the heart of the house becomes the center. Besides, the auspicious shape and form of the building such as square, triangle, and circle with a proportion hierarchy of space also becomes another character towards the energy accumulation. The result of the overlapping of the diagram system used by a different culture sphere as shown in Figures 7(a) and 7(b). There are concentric composition characteristics of form, mathematical numbers, and geometric pattern system. It also shows interrelationship with the patterning of the sympathetic and the parasympathetic divisions of internal organ systems of the human body as shown in Figures 7(a) and 7(c). Based on the analysis of the positive attributes of the Malay Tajul Muluk diagram system, Figure 3(b) seems to have links with the placement of the human internal organ system. The third principle appears to be the spatial hierarchy of the building layout. It should base to the cosmic order of the internal organ system of the human. The ordering of spaces should be arranging in front-to-back order with the principles of the superiority of internal organ system and its function. Based on the internal organ system placement, the ordering placement system is assessing a Malay house layout arrangement as the following Figure 8. It seems to be the mouth at the main entrance at the front. There are also secondary and tertiary entries at the ‘selang’ area and platform area. The ‘pangkalserambi’ and ‘hujungserambi’ function as larynx or air passage. It works as a discussion area, but it sometimes becomes as the sleeping area. The ‘rumahtengah’ or ‘rumahibu’ became the primary structure of the house and became the central area of family activity and sleeping. Therefore, the ‘tiangseri’ is placed at the heart of the house as already discussed previously. It functions to produce electromagnetic energy forces in space and surrounding the building. Environology studies claimed that space needs a dynamic atomic movement to prevent stagnation and to die. That makes the function of living area metaphorically as cardiovascular and respiratory system part of the human body. It became the main controlling center and energy accumulation. (a) (b) (c) 282 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Fig.7. (a) The ‘Wufik’ diagram with Environology placement of organ system (b) The concentric composition characteristics of form, mathematical numbers, and geometric pattern systems in compare with Malay Tajul Muluk diagram system. (c) The numbers show interrelationship with the patterning of the sympathetic and the parasympathetic divisions of human body’s internal organ systems. Sources: Campbell, (1999) The ‘selang’ divides the space between the ‘rumahtengah’ and ‘rumahdapur’. The ‘rumahdapur’ is considered to have different energy forces such as heat and rubbish (darkness energy). The heat from the stove and the sunset needs to be filtered from transferring into the main living area. The extra heat gain will contribute towards thermal discomfort inside the space. It seems the same also with the rubbish; it provides uncomfortable smell and disturbs the occupant behavior psychologically. The placement of both elements is represented as the excretory system part inside the human body. It is placed at the back side of the house. Fig. 8. The Internal Human Body Systems with the basic Malay-Islamic Architecture. Source: Idrus, (1996); Merrick, (2014) (pg.50; pg.6) 7. Conclusion and suggestion The Malay-Islamic people were practiced human oriented design principles towards their traditional architecture systems metaphorically. It’s truly proof that the design of a building should begin from inside towards outside by modern architecture philosophy. The American poet Ralph Waldo Emerson claimed that every human creation was an extension of the body; “All tools and engines of the earth are only extensions of man’s limbs and senses” (Caan, 2011). The meaning then further defined by Marshall McLuhan’s in 1960’s that our immediate environment is an extension of our body and our internal self. Analysis of the design functionality performance characteristics of traditional Malay-Islamic architecture has highlighted some rationale of the practice system. The Vitruvian principles; function (utilitas), firmness (firmitas), and esthetic (venustas) seemly exist in the Malay Islamic Architecture. The study found the three areas of architectural principles in a subsequent order - the function of space, the esthetics of the senses, and the firmness of form. The metaphysical approach is used to produce energy accumulation inside space and maximizing it by getting the best alignment with the movement of the universe. The system is also used to get a functional area and to foster a design for the well-being. There are three metaphysical factors that become the guidance: human cosmic order, human five senses, and human cosmic structure. The human cosmic order has been issued with four characteristic components; the energy se. th b i M l I l i A hit t Immune & Endocrine System Part Cardiovascular & Respiratory System Part Filtration System Part Digestive & Reproductive System Part Excretory System Part RumahDapur (Dry Kitchen & Dining) Selang Rumah Tengah (Living) Pangkal Serambi Hujung Serambi Room Kelongkong Dapur (Wet Kitchen) Platform Entrance (Mouth) Tiang Seri Baruh (front) Darat (back) Hulu Hilir 283 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 generator, the orientation, the configuration, and the ratio hierarchy. The human five senses shape the particular component of symbolic reminder inside space. The human cosmic structure factor has come out with two distinct components: the envelope (skin) and the structure. The building design metaphorically represents the internal and the external human body (Table 1). Table 1. The Traditional Malay-Islamic Architecture characteristics and its influencing factors. The traditional architecture is a simple in form, and the design is directed to fulfill the basic needs and daily functions of users. The building presents a manifestation of the unique culture and the way of life of the Malay- Islamic people. The reasons behind the esthetics of form is always functions that are logical yet practical. The hierarchical relationship and the flow forces produced inside the building create electromagnetic energy forces, which lead towards sustainability of the building and occupants. The study has shown that "metaphysics" have certain influences on the design of buildings and the built environments most in Asian Ancient cultures including the Malay-Islamic society. The traditional Malay-Islamic practice will be used as the primary instrument for a case study on selected building premises in the present study. Acknowledgements This study is carried out to fulfill the requirement for the degree of MSc (Built Environment) at Universiti Teknologi MARA, Shah Alam and is funded by Majlis Amanah Rakyat (MARA). It obtained the support from MARA Research and Innovation Unit under Skim Geran Penyelidikan dan Inovasi MARA (SGPIM) 2013 (reference no. MARA/UNI: 1/33/03/24/13). The authors would like to acknowledge the contributions from Professor Master David Koh for his comments and suggestions relating to Environology and also En Alias bin Ali, a renowned wood craftsmen for sharing his knowledge and experience, during the preparation of this paper. References Abdullah, A. H. (2001). Islam dan Perdagangan dalam Sejarah Alam Melayu (p. 425). Darulfikir Sdn Bhd. Abdullah, M. Y. (2012). Warisan Senibina Melayu Terengganu (p. 224). Yayasan Di-Raja Sultan Mizan. Abidin, M. Z. (1984). Bayan Mufti Zainal Abidin, Ijtima’ Yala, Thailand 1984: Nasihat untuk Karkun dalam buat usaha Agama (p. 32). 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Architecture Principles Metaphysical Approach Needs for Enclosure Traditional Malay-Islamic Architecture Characteristics Components Elements 1 Functional Space Human Cosmic Order Comfort, Security & Well-being ● Energy generator/ accumulation ● Magnetic bar (heart) ● Orientation ● Determined by four cardinal point ● Determined by natural/built object dominates external environment ● Configuration ● Concentric composition ● Auspicious shape/proportion ● Spatial Hierarchy ● Principles of superiority (internal human's organs systems) 2 Aesthetic of Senses Human Five Senses Well-being ● Symbolism ● Spirits (parents & ancestor) ● Motivation (religion & culture) ● Belief (lifestyle & personality) 3 Firmness of Form Human Cosmic Structure Comfort, Security & Well-being ● Envelope (Skin) ● Structure ● Auspicious shape/proportion (external human's anthropology and anatomy parts) 284 Nor Aniswati Awang Lah et al. / Procedia - Social and Behavioral Sciences 202 ( 2015 ) 273 – 284 Akkach, S. 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work_xo3ltkwnxnghvdakkjifpsh6ey	----	1312 JVME 38.3_05_Waters 235..241 PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT On the Self-Renewal of Teachers David J. Waters n Lane S. Waters ABSTRACT In previous issues of the Journal of Veterinary Medical Education, wide-ranging insights on how to achieve excellence in the classroom have been framed by award-winning teachers. These recipes for educational success, however, invariably lack a key ingredient—the teacher’s process of self-renewal. What skills and attitudes prime the teacher for continued high performance? To stay out of the ruts of expertise, where does the teacher turn? Teachers and administrators alike recognize its great importance, yet few opportunities for the renewal of teachers are built into the educational system. In this article, we challenge teachers to see their own self-renewal as an underutilized approach to innovate education. We propose a schema for sustained self-renewal: each educator developing her own personalized, hand-picked gallery of intellectual heroes who in turn serve as the educator’s life-long teachers. To illustrate the value of this activity, we introduce our own collection of 10 gifted thinkers, providing a brief encounter with each sage as a way of stimulating new thinking on the skills and attitudes that promote personal growth and transformative teaching. We conclude that the veterinary profession should work to create better opportunities for the self-renewal of teachers. By envisioning even our best teachers as unfinished and under construction, we open up a new dialogue situating the self-renewal of teachers at the very core of educational excellence. Key words: peak performance, leadership, life-long learning, personal skills, medical education, problem solving, educational approaches, self-awareness, curriculum INTRODUCTION Good teachers instruct students on how to function in the world. Great teachers show students how they can trans- form it. By seeing education as a dynamic and transfor- mative process, great teachers grow to recognize their own unfinishedness. Their philosophies and methods are in a state of both permanence and flux. The nameplate outside their door reads ‘‘Under Construction.’’ They are experts, yet open to change. Over the past decade, the Journal of Veterinary Medical Edu- cation has published several perspectives on great teaching written by the award-winning teachers of the veterinary profession.1–9 These educators share wide-ranging insights on achieving excellence in the classroom, offering innova- tive ways to inspire active learning. To these thoughtful recipes for educational success, we would like to add another key ingredient: the teacher’s process of self-renewal. Where does the teacher turn for self-renewal? What skills and attitudes prime the teacher for continued high per- formance to navigate the ever-changing territory that is the teaching-learning space? What keeps teachers from becoming close-minded, from slipping into the ruts of their own expertise? Both teachers and administrators recognize the immense importance of self-renewal.10 By not cultivating the teacher’s inner self, we put great teaching at great risk. Yet few opportunities for the self-renewal of teachers are built into the educational system. This concerns us. The lack of attention to nurturing the inner self of the teacher poses a serious threat to the long-term viability of even our most accomplished educators (Figure 1).11 What then can we do to cultivate the teacher’s inner self? This article is a call for teachers to take action—to innovate the education process by reaching their highest potential through self-renewal. For several years, the authors have been taking a close look at personal performance, looking at individuals from different disciplines and seeing how they reach their creative and intellectual potential. Here, we propose a schema for self-renewal that, we believe, can assist even the most accomplished teachers with their unfinishedness. Our prescription for sustained self-renewal: Each teacher assembles a gallery of intellectual heroes— gifted and articulate thinkers—to serve as his own life- long teachers. The value inherent in tapping into this approach is twofold. First, you benefit directly from the flashes of insight you receive from spending time with original thinkers. This occurs not through passive uptake, but by actively shaping the meaning of each thinker’s words to enlarge your own experience. Second, you experience the process of becoming teacher and student. This does not mean becoming a ‘‘typical’’ student, but instead an advantaged student nurtured by top-notch thinkers. This enables you to rapidly expand your skills of reading and listening, perfecting what Mortimer Adler calls ‘‘the art of being taught.’’12 It is encounters like these that can spark the kind of authentic reflection—the hard, internal mental work—that fosters the personal growth and new understanding that enable teachers to perform at the highest level. If we as teachers can spend a bit more time thinking about our own thinking, then we will begin to see our own teach- ing philosophy from new angles, both analytical and creative. By investing in our own self-renewal, we are putting students first—harnessing new energy, gaining fresh insights into structuring the kinds of educational doi:10.3138/jvme.38.3.235JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC 235 experiences that will nurture the skills and attitudes that can enable each student to go beyond knowledge to expertise. Here, we share with the reader our gallery of articulate heroes, those gifted intellectuals who have helped us most to think about our own thinking. Collectively, we call them ‘‘The 10 Faces of a Teacher,’’ our multifaceted oracle of renewal (Table 1). In the pages that follow, we invite the reader to encounter a snapshot of what we imagine each of these thinkers might tell a teacher in search of renewal. But first, an important disclaimer is in order. We fully expect that not all of these ideas will resonate with every reader. Yet, even if only one or two of our heroes resonates with you in a new or unexpected way, then we have accomplished something—setting you on a course of self-renewal that will stimulate new ways of thinking, regardless of where you are on your journey to learning excellence. TEN FACES OF A TEACHER Jerome Bruner13–21 Of all of our teachers, Jerome Bruner would have the most to say about self-renewal. His aim—an ambitious one—is to achieve the perfectibility of intellect. One does this by compacting experience into mental models. Build- ing effective mental models requires an ability to create categories. Categories are words; therefore, Bruner places language center stage in intellectual development. He sees language as mankind’s intellectual prosthetic device— enabling us to manipulate our experiences so they make better sense to us, and to transmit to others what we have discovered. Forming rich mental models requires deep thinking. That is why education is most effective when students leap the barrier from learning to thinking. In the classroom, the teacher must decide whether to expose students to ‘‘flat declarations of fixed factuality’’21(p.127) or instead teach the language of process—how we came to believe what we now believe and why today’s most deep-seated beliefs will someday be added to the scrap heap of what we once held as truth. The best mental models prepare the mind for inquiry, spawning a steady stream of testable guesses that are neither too flimsy, nor too certain. To achieve this, Bruner would insist that we develop our sense of intuition, our ticket to deepening our pursuit of understanding. It takes a disciplined intuition to sense when to proceed intuitively, when to be analytical. Through the process of perfecting your intellect you de- velop a sense of promisingness—the ability to choose the most fruitful options among the innumerable possible paths. It is common for people to pride themselves in how much they know. But Bruner would urge us to pursue the other side of certitude: Become the one who under- stands how much we don’t know, then pursue the un- known with courageous intuition. It takes real courage to be so exposed, so surrounded by the unknown. But that known-unknown interface is precisely where we need to take our students. It is there that students can learn the art of problem finding—the ability to locate trouble, to find those regions of our ‘‘knowledge’’ that are in need of revision. Problem finding, not just problem solving, is the creative force that helps the scientist cultivate the growing edge of his field. Good problem finders keep themselves sensitive to opportunity and anomaly, focus- ing their openness on what is non-obvious but relevant. And once you have found your problem and conducted your experiment, the greatest gift of your intellectual maturity will be the ability to go beyond the information given. For example, the cancer researcher must develop a refined ability to go beyond his observations of tumor cells in a Petri dish to generate not-too-restrictive, opti- mally generic ideas that transcend the plastic dish so that he might achieve his goal of understanding a disease that kills people, not plastic. That is how we perfect our intel- lect: by successfully grasping the optimally generic mean- ing of each experience. Have you spent much time thinking about the current condi- tion of your mental models? Are your students trained in the art of problem finding? Figure 1: M.C. Escher’s ‘‘Rind.’’ Perhaps Escher was imagining the condition of unrenewed teachers— how sometimes they appear as if their effectiveness is at risk of unraveling. Self-renewal fosters an openmindedness to alternative interpretations, a susceptibility to new ways of seeing. Looking again at ‘‘Rind,’’ is there something else you can see in Escher’s imaginings? 236 JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC Wendell Johnson22,23 We see the world through our categories, taught Wendell Johnson. Categories again. If you are a dog and my expe- rience is that all dogs bite, then I see you as a biter. In contrast, a person who has developed more extensive categories of dog behaviors would make no such assump- tion. A word of caution: Categories can cripple under- standing. We oversimplify the world and muddle infor- mation when we fall into the trap of either-or-ness. For example, if we see things as either good or bad, we are prone to ask, ‘‘Are vitamin C supplements good for me?’’ Being more precise with language moves you to ask the better question: ‘‘Under what circumstances will vitamin C supplements benefit me?’’ To Johnson, lan- guage is the gateway to perfecting our intellect. This is necessary not just for effective communication with others, but to more effectively talk to ourselves. Words are the building blocks of Bruner’s mental models—how we shape and re-shape the ideas inside our heads. And when we are ready to move those ideas out of our heads through the act of writing, the words we choose enable us to develop deeper lines of reasoning. Perhaps this explains why people find journaling such an effective tool for enhancing the quality of their thinking. Johnson is adamant about one thing: The responsibility is ours to accurately pass on to the next generation what we really know, and what we have yet to understand. The next generation should stand on our shoulders, not start from scratch. Without focus on language and its careful usage, we are at great risk of passing nonsense to the next. Could the quality of your thinking be enhanced by increasing your ability to be precise with language? Have you ever con- sidered taking a course in general semantics to transform your language behavior? Neil Postman24–26 Every teacher a history teacher, every teacher a language educator, taught Neil Postman. By listening to the history of each discipline, the student witnesses the discovery process unfold. She will come to appreciate how emer- gent are the questions and how contingent is the truth. There is no such thing as ‘‘the definitive study.’’ Every- thing is work in progress. Postman would say that learn- ing any subject demands that we acquire a skill with words—not only definitions, but also the questions and metaphors of a particular domain. Perhaps Postman’s greatest insight is the notion of education as counterbalance. There is no one-size-fits-all blueprint for the best educa- tion. Instead, we must find out how young people are receiving information and then shape an educational pro- cess that counterbalances the predominant modes of instruction. If television commercials are teaching young people that quick solutions to problems come from with- out (e.g., win friends by changing your brand of body wash), educators must reveal to students tougher prob- lems that must be solved from within. Do you teach the history of your discipline? Do you see your teaching approach as counterbalance . . . counterbalance to what? Ralph Waldo Emerson27–34 The tough problems are always solved from within. Ralph Waldo Emerson called this self-reliance. You must grow your capabilities, reach your potential so you can dig deep to meet life’s challenges. Emerson’s teaching method would be one of provocation rather than instruc- tion. Once provoked, the student turns within to inspect, then revise her mental models. That is how we tap into the genius within each of us. To Emerson, ‘‘Perception Table 1: Ten faces of a teacher Name Field Idea* Jerome Bruner (1915–) Cognitive psychology, education The perfectibility of intellect Wendell Johnson (1906–1965) General semantics, speech pathology Language mastery as gateway to reaching intellectual potential Neil Postman (1931–2003) Media ecology Education as counterbalance Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882) Philosophy Teaching as provocation, not instruction Soren Kierkegaard (1813–1855) Philosophy, theology Navigating uncertainty Roger Schank (1946–) Artificial intelligence, education Developing the battle tactics of persuasion Gregory Bateson (1904–1980) Anthropology, systems thinking Information: a difference that makes a difference George Polya (1887–1985) Mathematics The art of guessing William Zinsser (1922–) Writing Writing more clearly to think more clearly Robert Nozick (1938–2002) Philosophy Spiral: the geometry of a transformative life * This table highlights one skill, attitude, or idea for each teacher. The reader will discover in the narrative that each of these gifted thinkers has the capacity to affect a teacher’s thinking in multifaceted ways. JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC 237 makes.’’34(p.51) When it rains, it is our perception (not the rain) that makes us mope or dance about. Rack up as many provocative experiences as you can because it is through these experiences—and ultimately your categories—that you grow to see and seize the hidden opportunities dancing out there. Do not neglect to tell your students that their experiences are all they have to offer to those whom they will teach someday. Have you reflected upon the role provocation plays in your own learning? Does your teaching allow students to see cells, organisms, and populations through a lens of conceptual order or perceptual flux? Soren Kierkegaard35,36 In the world according to this great Dane, reality is sub- jective. Therefore, each student must co-create meaning. That is why, in Kierkegaard’s classroom, there would be no daily drill of rules, but instead the parables of a wise man. The wise man gives the student two great gifts: the utterance and choice. Students must choose to pay strict attention or to ignore. They must choose to consider the material true or false, worthless or valuable. They must decide which are the most fruitful lines for further in- quiry. Kierkegaard would teach us to prepare ourselves to navigate the gap between the understanding and the willing—that is, between our limited knowledge (the understanding) and the need for action (the willing). Our knowledge will always be incomplete. Therefore, only if we have a high comfort level with ambiguity and paradox, can we move forward with decisive action in an uncertain world. How often do we mislead students with a false impression of how much we know versus what we believe? Are you training students in the art of making judgments under uncertainty? Roger Schank37–39 Roger Schank’s radical thesis is that intelligence is story telling and story understanding—the ability to make the right-time response to someone else’s utterance. Right time, right context. This demands a slew of skills that are likely underemphasized in today’s classrooms: listen- ing, contextual acumen, metaphor. To Schank, an expert in artificial intelligence, becoming a clever indexer is the mark of intelligence. Indexing is the way you successfully access your own experience. To access your previous experiences is to own them. And, as every actor or opera singer knows, owning your material is essential for peak performance. Schank would also teach us how to in- crease the odds that our new ideas—our discoveries— will stick. It is not sufficient to simply put forward your naked new idea or invention. You must also creatively change the lens through which others will view your new and shiny thing. Otherwise, the cataract of previous belief will prevent the brilliance of your new idea from being seen. Instead of flourishing, your idea will be stomped upon, rejected. Are you in need of some heady battle tactics to make your own creative ideas win? Should you invest more effort in develop- ing yourself as a skilled storyteller? Gregory Bateson40,41 Gregory Bateson would turn the classroom upside down with his advice on how to make sense of the world. He would teach what he calls the successful raid of the random—the ability to separate the stimuli that one should pay attention to from the noise that does not count. He would insist that context determines meaning and that it is the responsibility of the recipient to provide context. It is the recipient alone who can truly communi- cate. The rest is just noise. And Bateson would have something else creative to say to students. Students equate creativity with ‘‘thinking outside the box.’’ Bateson would instead argue: Grow your box. Grow it big, be- cause a bigger box provides richer context. Bateson’s blueprint for box growing would likely hinge on gather- ing information, which he defines as a difference that makes a difference. Bateson’s information is special information indeed. Mastering the art of seeing the similar as differ- ent, the different as similar is an enviable achievement. That is why training in comparative religion, compara- tive economics, comparative medicine, or comparative anything is such a good idea. It trains us in the art of spotting connections. Are you preparing your students for a life of discovery, for finding what’s hidden? Shouldn’t you be teaching a course on comparative something? George Polya42–44 George Polya is a problem solver extraordinaire. From a mathematician one might expect stifling lectures with blackboards scratched full of equations. But with Polya, you would be surprised and delighted. Polya is a true original, the teacher who would take you beyond prob- lem solving to the skill of plausible inference (i.e., the art of guessing). And he would teach you using stories about problem solving. Consider the tale of the mouse that got stuck in a caged trap. The mouse quickly tests each of the spaces between the bars to see if he can slip through to make a safe escape. The mouse is searching for Bateson’s information—the difference that makes a difference. Prob- lem solving is iterative seeking and the quality of this seeking can be enhanced through the disciplined devel- opment of key skills, such as recognizing helpful auxil- iary problems, collecting clues from simpler analogous problems, and using heuristic short-cuts. The creative problem solver knows there is no substitute for a disci- plined imagination. Are you trained in the art of guessing? Have you dedicated yourself to acquiring the opposing skills (analytical vs. creative) necessary for developing a disciplined imagination? William Zinsser45,46 Next to last, but not least, William Zinsser would teach: To think clearly, write clearly. Most of us write crummy. And it is tough to unlearn some of the crummy things we have been taught in school, such as never starting a sentence with the word ‘‘but.’’ But all that would change with Zinsser as task master. He has certainly helped both 238 JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC of us (DJW, LSW) grow to become more careful writers— respectful of that fidgety fellow (perhaps you at this very moment) who is just looking for an excuse to put away what we have written. Strength through pruning, Zinsser would mind us. And then he would remind us of the importance of constructing a conclusion as a memorable crescendo—what the reader takes away from your piece— rather than a highly forgettable rehashing of what you have already said. As your writing improves, you will watch your clear thinking soar. Your reading will also change. More important than reading a journal or book cover-to-cover, you will begin to look for statements, phrases, even single words that will provide some of that Emersonian provocation—the provocation that makes you think about your thinking. Have you ever considered how your writing influences your reading? Is it time to re-think the way you write? Robert Nozick47–48 The strictest disciplinarian of the lot, Robert Nozick would whip students into shape—the shape of a spiral. To be accomplished in this world, you must become an accom- plished spiral jumper. You must take every opportunity to grow your box by jumping down a spiraling sequence of EXPLORE-RESPOND-RELATE-CREATE-TRANSFORM (Figure 2). This means being open to transformation with every experience—every lecture, every reading. Master- ing the art of being taught12 takes serious listening and reading skills. But it also demands a special, spiraling attitude of fearless openness. Intellectual growth calls for courage, because the spiral nature of experience means you never end up back where you started. You must abandon where you began. And, inevitably, some of your old ideas will get gutted along the way. To see every creative act as an act of destruction and not flinch— that is the resilience you must seek. There are times when each of us questions the purpose of our lives. Are we living up to expectations? Are we making a difference? Nozick’s advice is uncomplicated: Engage in an activity that has intrinsic value. For him, this is creativity. But Nozick’s prescription does not stop there. Fully engage your experiences, knowledge, abilities not to create a thing, but to create a process. Create a plan that enables others to find their purpose and goal. In this way, endow- ing their existence with meaning and purpose becomes your purpose. Is that why being a teacher is so satisfying? Is not Nozick’s prescription for satisfaction of purpose a call for great teaching and for the nurturing of the teacher’s inner self? SYNTHESIS The intent of this article was to call teachers’ attention to the need for self-renewal, challenging them to consider it as a necessary approach to innovating education. Recog- nizing the importance of self-renewal, we proposed a schema whereby each educator develops a personalized, hand-picked gallery of intellectual heroes who become the educator’s life-long teachers. We tried to illustrate the value of this activity by sharing some lively insights from the teachers who have provoked the deepest reflec- tion in us. After contemplating these insights, we suspect some readers will concede they got Nozicked or Bruner- ized into seeing their teaching practices in a new light. But if we have been more persuasive in our argument, some readers will find themselves on a new path toward building their own wellspring of wisdom. They will become engaged in a deliberate process of self-renewal. Dissenters of our approach may argue that assembling their own gang of elite teachers is too big of an undertak- ing, incompatible with the time demands already placed on them. To these skeptics we reply: Do what a good tree surgeon would do. Begin with the tree of 10 top-notch teachers we planted here and prune it down to what feels right. We do not see the all-too-real time constraints of academicians as a disabling obstacle to renewal. The deeper we have looked for the keys to achieving top performance and reaching one’s potential, the more we are convinced there are a limited number of skills and attitudes that really count. This stance is supported by the work of others.49 The veterinary profession should work to create oppor- tunities for the self-renewal of teachers. Teachers that renew can transform. We believe that nurturing certain skills and attitudes, like those put forward by our 10 teachers, can truly enhance professional performance. Moreover, we propose that it is time for a curricular re- think to create a ‘‘skills course’’ in which veterinary stu- dents and their teachers can explore transformative ideas on personal performance—in the classroom together. Figure 2: Re-visiting Escher’s ‘‘Rind.’’ Far from an image of unraveling defeat, could the artist’s message be that by embracing the spiral nature of human experience we better prepare ourselves to celebrate a life of discovery and transformation? JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC 239 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The authors thank Markus Shafer and Emily Chiang for thoughtful editorial advice and for assistance in the preparation of this manuscript. Permission for use of Figure 1 and Figure 2 kindly provided: M.C. Escher’s ‘‘Rind’’ 6 2010 The M.C. Escher Company-Holland. All rights reserved. www.mcescher.com. REFERENCES 1 Klein BG. 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Medline:16767632 7 MacWilliams PS. Teaching as a first, second, or third language. J Vet Med Educ. 2007;34(4):377–80. doi:10.3138/jvme.34.4.377. Medline:18287461 8 Salisbury SK. Evolution of a teacher: helping students learn. J Vet Med Educ. 2008;35(3):326–30. doi:10.3138/jvme.35.3.326. Medline:19066347 9 Smith BJ. My thoughts on teaching. J Vet Med Educ. 2009;36(3):256–9. doi:10.3138/jvme.36.3.256. Medline:19861711 10 Gardner J. Self renewal: the individual and the innovative society. New York: Harper and Row; 1963. 11 Palmer PJ. The courage to teach. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers; 1998. 12 Adler MJ. How to read a book. New York: Simon and Schuster; 1940. 13 Bruner J, Goodnow J, Austin A. A study of thinking. New York: Wiley; 1956. 14 Bruner JS. On knowing: essays for the left hand. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; 1962. 15 Bruner JS. The process of education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; 1963. 16 Bruner JS. Toward a theory of instruction. 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Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; 1977. 35 Kierkegaard S. Philosophical fragments. Swenson DF, translator. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press; 1962. 36 Oden TC. Parables of Kierkegaard. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press; 1978. 37 Schank R. The creative attitude. New York: Macmillan; 1988. 38 Schank RC. Tell me a story. New York: Macmillan; 1990. 240 JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC 39 Schank RC. Making minds less well educated than our own. New York: Routledge; 2004. 40 Bateson G. Mind and nature: a necessary unity. London: Wildwood House; 1979. 41 Bateson G, Bateson MC. Angels fear: towards an epistemology of the sacred. New York: Macmillan; 1987. 42 Polya G. How to solve it. 2nd ed. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press; 1954. 43 Polya G. Induction and analogy in mathematics. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press; 1954. 44 Polya G. Mathematical discovery: on understanding, learning, and teaching problem solving. New York: Wiley; 1981. 45 Zinsser W. On writing well. 3rd ed. New York: Harper & Row; 1980. 46 Zinsser W. Writing to learn. New York: Harper & Row; 1988. 47 Nozick R. The examined life. New York: Simon and Schuster; 1989. 48 Nozick R. Socratic puzzles. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press; 1997. 49 Brown J, Fenske M. The winner’s brain. Philadelphia: DaCapo Press; 2010. AUTHOR INFORMATION David J. Waters, DVM, PhD, Diplomate ACVS, is Professor of Veterinary Clinical Sciences, School of Veterinary Medicine, Purdue University, and Director of the Center for Exceptional Longevity Studies, Gerald P. Murphy Cancer Foundation, 3000 Kent Avenue, suite E2-100, West Lafayette, IN 47906 USA. E-mail: waters@purdue.edu. He has been a veterinary educator for 25 years. In 2007, Dr. Waters created a course on developing personal performance skills (critical thinking, storytelling, persuasive argument, creativity) for graduate students in the dual-title PhD Program at Purdue’s Center on Aging and the Life Course. This article presents perspectives provoked by a series of discussions initiated by the co-author about the self-renewal of teachers. Lane S. Waters is a Student earning his BA in Elementary Education at Calvin College in Grand Rapids, MI 49546 USA. E-mail: lsw6@students.calvin.edu. In the tradition of Jerome Bruner, who took sabbatical leave from Harvard University to teach fifth graders, he explores perspectives on learning that offer insight to those who would educate fifth graders and veterinary students alike. JVME 38(3) 6 2011 AAVMC 241 
work_xoghnwhirzgtthg3fh3lbolxua	----	William Carlos Williams: Selected Poems (review) William Carlos Williams: Selected Poems (review) E. P. Walkiewicz William Carlos Williams Review, Volume 26, Number 1, Spring 2006, pp. 102-104 (Review) Published by Penn State University Press DOI: For additional information about this article [ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] https://doi.org/10.1353/wcw.2007.0006 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/216944 https://doi.org/10.1353/wcw.2007.0006 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/216944 Andalou and Seashell and the Clergyman, Williams’s poetry dwells upon “loss of fantasized bodily omnipotence” (111), creating “a bodily poetic of thwarted desire” (117). Williams uses surrealist techniques to “deflect wish fulfillment and disarray the male bodily ego in its mise- en- scène of desire” (123). The chapter builds to some fresh readings of poems from Spring and All (123–32) in terms of surrealist cinematic themes and techniques. Some of these points—e.g., the use of fragmentation, juxtaposition, and multiple perspectives— are familiar from critical discussion of Williams and modern painting. Unfortu- nately, McCabe ignores most previous criticism on Williams and surrealism, including the special issue of the WCWR on this topic (Spring 1996). But she makes a convincing case that Williams’s dual emphasis on movement and on the body has significant parallels with surrealist film. One difficulty of this book is that some readers (this reviewer included) may not have seen some of the more experimental films discussed, such as G. W. Pabst’s Joyless Street and Pandora’s Box, and Man Ray’s Emak Bakia. Although McCabe does her best to describe the film passages under discussion, the more experimental a film is, the more it tends to resist such verbal paraphrase. Another difficulty is the book’s style. I admired McCabe’s first book, Elizabeth Bishop and the Poetics of Loss (1994), partly because of the way she was able to use special- ized critical terms precisely and sparingly to illuminate Bishop’s poetry. This new book is dense with the terminology of queer/gender/women’s/racial studies. Cine- matic Modernism outlines a fresh and important approach to modernist poetry. Its argument would sometimes benefit from clearer expression and a fuller recogni- tion of previous scholarship on its subject. William Carlos Williams: Selected Poems. Ed. Robert Pinsky. American Poets Project. New York: The Library of America, 2004. 189 pp. $20.00 (cloth). E . P . W A L K I E W I C Z Oklahoma State University That Robert Pinsky has for a long time admired the poetry of fellow New Jerseyite William Carlos Williams is demonstrated by the considerable space devoted to Williams’s work in Pinsky’s The Situation of Poetry: Contemporary Poetry and Its Traditions (1976). Examining the relationship between the work of the modernists and the verse that was still considered “contemporary” when he wrote that book, Pinsky focused on Williams’s “coolness,” on the way he treats 102 William Carlos Williams Review the interaction between a perceiving consciousness and inanimate objects, and on his ability to master the liberty afforded by prose. In the introduction to this new collection of Williams’s poetry, the former poet laureate again emphasizes the magnitude of Williams’s legacy, averring that “(g)enerations of poets have dug into” his “works,” admiring their “enduring freshness.” Williams has continued to influence young poets, Pinsky proposes, because his poetry challenges the reader to “try to listen and see freshly and leave expec- tations and cliches (sic) behind.” Exploring “the infinite richness of what is appar- ent,” Williams’s poems insist that we provide “something a little more like alert- ness than explanation.” “Even the poet’s name keeps the reader off balance,” its hybridity “implying an immigrant story” that leads Pinsky to place Williams in “the European tradition of the scientist as progressive.” His Williams combined “intellectual attention” with “painterly alertness,” possessed a kind of sensitivity to the new that led him, for example, to compose what may be the first poem describing the world as it looks when viewed from an automobile. Pinsky’s Williams edition was the thirteenth volume released under the Amer- ican Poets Project imprint. Several of the other volumes also have been edited by distinguished poets, including Thom Gunn, Edward Hirsch, J. D. McClatchy, Adrienne Rich, and Richard Wilbur. The stated purpose of the series is to pro- duce, “for the first time in our history, a compact national library of American poetry.” Although the American Poets Project in general is thus committed to con- servation and dissemination, this particular addition seems intended also to prompt reexamination and reconsideration, for Pinsky’s Williams is rather differ- ent from Charles Tomlinson’s. More than half of the poems in Tomlinson’s New Directions edition do not appear in this one; more than half of those collected in the newer edition are absent from Tomlinson’s. Pinsky’s Williams is a lyric poet rather than a lyric poet with epic ambitions. Unlike Tomlinson’s edition, this one contains neither “The Wanderer” nor excerpts from Paterson, while Pinsky provides a larger sampling of the early lyrics, including, for instance, a dozen poems from Al Que Quiere! and fifteen from Sour Grapes. He has also added a few of the more widely antholo- gized pieces (“Danse Russe,” “The Young Housewife”) as well as the posthu- mously published “Greeting for Old Age” and “Stormy.” This new Selected Poems is not the product of textual editing; the texts of all of the poems it contains are taken from the two volumes of the New Directions Col- lected Poems. The textual apparatus is lean. In addition to Pinsky’s fairly brief but effective introduction, the book offers a short biographical note, a note on the texts, and a few pages of explanatory notes on the poems themselves. By present- 103Book Reviews ing a distinctly different selection of Williams’s work, however, Pinsky may suc- ceed in compelling at least some readers to view the poet’s oeuvre with a fresh eye. Emancipating Pragmatism: Emerson, Jazz, and Experimental Writing. Michael Magee. Tuscaloosa: The University of Alabama Press, 2004. 247 pp. $55.00 (cloth), $27.50 (paper). W I L L I A M J . H A R R I S University of Kansas Emancipating Pragmatism is both an exciting and frustrating book. Since Michael Magee’s prose is sometimes strategically evasive, it is sometimes hard to decipher. Moreover, the book is thesis- ridden (which is strange consider- ing its literary ancestor) and repetitious—the same quotations keep reappearing. Yet the spiritual and cultural ancestor of this book, nineteenth- century thinker Ralph Waldo Emerson, is equally as exciting and frustrating, at least Magee’s ver- sion of him. It is a serious book, boldly showing the influence of Emerson on at first seemingly unlikely places—from jazz to William Carlos Williams, to African American culture, to the New American Poetry of the late 1950s and 1960s, to contemporary experimental writing. And this book, perhaps, makes this reviewer a little less literal- minded. Following the pragmatist John Dewey, Magee sees lit- erary criticism as “a form of desire, of effort as action” (1) instead of seeing it more traditionally as a tool for more or less straightforward investigation into history and text. Magee, who teaches at the Rhode Island School of Design in Providence, starts with an inspiring re- envisioning of Emerson, an Emerson who comes from recent work of such scholars as Len Gougeon and Joel Myerson, which is prima- rily based on the 1964 rediscovery in the Library of Congress of Emerson’s lost antislavery “WO Liberty” notebook. This notebook counters the standard and persistent image of Emerson as someone who was reluctantly pushed into aboli- tionist activity (54), by showing him as a fiery abolitionist (2). In fact, Magee argues that Emerson became a pragmatist, a man who believes in a philosophy of action, through his commitment to abolition (89). In great detail Magee presents Emerson’s fascinating and influential theory of language since it is the theoretical bedrock of the book. This study demonstrates that Emerson’s ideas about language will be employed by a variety of American writers from Gertrude Stein and William Carlos Williams to contemporary experi- 104 William Carlos Williams Review 
work_xpfg27kk6rgvving5yjsxa4gzm	----	Being Ralph Ellison 51 0026-3079/2015/5403-051$2.50/0 American Studies, 54:3 (2015): 51-62 51 Being Ralph Ellison: Remaking the Black Public Intellectual in the Age of Civil Rights Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. Most of the social realists of the period were concerned less with tragedy than with injustice. I wasn’t, and am not, pri- marily concerned with injustice, but with art.—Ralph Elli- son, “The Art of Fiction: An Interview” Interviewer: How do you feel about the criticism you some- times get from black students who feel you haven’t been militant enough? Ellison: I say, “You’d be your kind of militant and I’ll be my kind of militant.”—Interview with Ralph Ellison, Washing- ton Post, August 1973 Soon after he published Invisible Man in April 1952, Ralph Ellison was quickly recognized as being the most prominent African American writer of his generation. Or, as Lawrence Jackson pointedly notes, “Ellison had moved from being an embattled social critic, a position he had occupied during most of the years he wrote Invisible Man, to being a symbol of America’s willingness to ac- cept talented blacks.”1 The publication of Invisible Man, coupled with the Na- tional Book Award he received a year after its publication, heralded the arrival of a new, formidable African American voice on the mainstream literary stage. Ellison also became widely recognized as a public intellectual who came to rep- 52 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. resent, to many, a writer whose ideas affirmed the possibilities of black Ameri- can intellectualism. Ellison himself seemed to feel the same sense of possibility. The acceptance speech he gave after receiving the National Book Award spoke as directly to his elevated position as a novelist as it did to his desire to define and occupy his newly acquired public role and to shape his audience’s thoughts about the ways he believed his work should be understood. Although Richard Wright was an early mentor of Ellison and supporter of the work he encouraged Ellison to do, Ellison quickly defined for himself a body of ideas and a foun- dation of American philosophical and political thought on which his literary and intellectual aspirations were self-consciously built. His political foundation was embodied by the ideas of Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln, and Ralph Waldo Emerson. His thoughts about literature were based in the literary produc- tion characterized by the writing of Mark Twain, John Dos Passos, Theodore Dreiser, T. S. Eliot, Ernest Hemingway, and William Faulkner. It is worth em- phasizing that Ellison’s literary apprenticeship was shaped by his association with a group of literary, intellectual, and political radicals who dismissed many of the New Negro movement’s Africanist identifications in favor of Marxist readings of black proletarian experience in America that firmly radicalized the political solution to the “race problem.” My interest in this article is the period between the publication of Invisible Man and the early 1970s (roughly the period defined by the civil rights move- ment), when Ellison crafted his strategy for how he would define and occupy the public role in which he found himself and his work suddenly placed. As a public figure, Ellison engaged in a variety of broad cultural debates and con- versations. While those ideas circulated in ways that Ellison certainly could not have controlled, my point here is that this was also the period when Ellison be- gan a consciously revisionist process that deflected attention to his work away from its leftist origins and toward something that was decidedly more rooted in a language of aesthetics, of modernist impulse, and, most universally, of what he referred to in various ways as democratic possibility. When Ellison first be- gan to control the narrative surrounding the reception of his work, the left was under attack in ways of which Ellison was certainly keenly aware. But Ellison was also keenly aware of his audience and keenly aware of the representative stature that he and his work occupied during that period. Invisible Man was a breakthrough novel that synthesized mid-twentieth- century African American racial consciousness with America’s broader cultural aspirations and accomplishments. It also became a place around which Elli- son could subsequently orient his ideas about the obligations of the American writer: “The writer, any American writer, becomes basically responsible for the health of American literature the moment he starts writing seriously. And this regardless of his race or his religious background.”2 But even as Ellison was being ushered into the intellectual conversation of race, politics, and art to which he had hoped his work would bring him, there were many who did not perceive Ellison to be particularly attuned to the African Americans about Being Ralph Ellison 53 whom he wrote. Ellison’s foundational ideas about the duties of black artists and intellectuals in the public sphere became a kind of a through-line in how he crafted and maintained his own public role in the age of civil rights. Throughout the civil rights years, Ellison won numerous awards and was widely sought after to teach and lecture on college and university campuses.3 The novel itself regularly appeared on college reading lists across the country even though it received some harshly critical reviews, particularly from black and white critics on the left who felt that the novel disparaged and inaccu- rately depicted leftist ideology. Alternately, some middle-class black critics felt that the novel unnecessarily focused on representations of lower-class African Americans rather than emphasizing a view of black uplift that is represented by the presence of Booker T. Washington in the novel’s vision of black progress, Emersonian self-reliance, and the narrator’s own aspirational desire to become a leader and spokesman of his people.4 One thing that is quite clear, however, is that Ellison had no interest in pursuing an agenda—literary or political—of racial solidarity as a viable strategy for obtaining individual self-determina- tion and humanity. Ellison himself spent that period occupying and defending a unique perspective in which he became recognized as (and criticized for) creating a critical counternarrative in which he positioned himself in the pub- lic consciousness as a black intellectual who purported to be less interested in propagating his blackness than he was in locating a black presence as a key component of America’s history and national experience. While scholars have examined Ralph Ellison from a variety of literary, cul- tural, and political perspectives that mine the components of his formative years for clues about his mature years, this article focuses on Ellison’s conscious at- tempts after the publication of Invisible Man to recalibrate his audience’s frame of reference to the elements that led to his artistic maturity. The dominant nar- rative surrounding Ellison most often focuses on Invisible Man and sees the novel as reflective of the process that led Ellison to leave the Tuskegee Institute after three years and relocate to Harlem, where he contributed to a number of leftist publications, wrote short fiction, and, after service in the U.S. Merchant Marine, began writing what became Invisible Man after having become radical- ized by Richard Wright. The effects of that ideological transformation led to the composition and publication of a novel under whose shadow Ellison lived for the remainder of his life. While it suggests a natural, linear artistic and intel- lectual progression, that narrative is in many ways far too simple. In his biog- raphy of Ralph Ellison, Lawrence Jackson notes that Ellison’s “career and his life hinged upon irony. Apparently untrained and untried, he had sent his first novel Invisible Man into the world and collected the National Book Award— the ‘bright hunk of gold,’ as he called it—all in his thirty-ninth year.”5 What Jackson’s work describes most convincingly is that Ellison’s work in compos- ing Invisible Man reflected a genuine desire to articulate and address the “Negro Problem.” Brown v. Board of Education and the civil rights movement even- tually justified the ideas that Ellison had presented in his novel and gave him 54 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. the opportunity to address those ideas in ways that put him in conflict with the political climate that developed in the 1950s and continued through the 1960s and early 1970s. In Wrestling with the Left, Barbara Foley has presented the most comprehensive examination available of the relation between Ellison’s work with the Communist Party and his development as a novelist. Her finding is that Ellison’s rejection of the left was different than the ideological origin story that he later put forth. One thing that her exhaustive research suggests is that Ellison’s public stance in the years following Invisible Man was profoundly shaped by Ellison’s own awareness of his position in a cultural setting that was rapidly changing around him.6 In Ralph Ellison in Progress, Adam Bradley reminds us of that rapidly changing landscape by noting that “the last half of Ellison’s life coincided with seismic shifts in American politics and culture, from Jim Crow segregation to the civil rights revolution, from the death of the author to the birth of the digi- tal age.”7 While Bradley’s focus is to read Ellison’s unfinished second novel in relation to Invisible Man, his comment here highlights an important point about Ellison’s public disposition when he notes the ways in which Ellison’s work on his second novel during the civil rights era erases apparent reference to the contemporaneous political and social tumult. In his biography of Ellison, Arnold Rampersad notes a similar process of erasure at work in Invisible Man, which references the past (Reconstruction and World War I) but not the present (World War II)—at least not concretely. This is certainly part of the universal- izing strategy that Barbara Foley recognizes Ellison undertaking at the expense of his earlier leftist involvement.8 This series of novelistic attempts to recast a broad, undefined present in the context of a narrowly defined past raises the question of how Ellison might have employed that same strategy in relation to his own public presence. As John S. Wright notes in Shadowing Ralph Ellison, “after the publication of Shadow and Act, a second phase of Ellison’s passage into the heart of the American darkness balanced the continued growth of his literary reputation against the exactions of ideological warfare, with Ellison himself registering the consequent tensions in an increasingly embattled series of interviews in the late 1960s and early ’70s.”9 While those interviews, collected by Maryemma Graham and Amritjit Singh in Conversations with Ralph Ellison, certainly reflect some of the embat- tlement that Wright sees, they also reflect a divergence from the writer recog- nized by many, according to Graham and Singh, who “tend to think of Ellison as aloof in style and manner, the embodiment of his own metaphor, a kind of ‘invisible man’ of recent American literature. This may have been the public Ellison, a man overshadowed by his own reputation, chuckling with friends to deflect their questions about his second novel, and reluctant to claim most of what we have often wanted to attribute to him.”10 In the “Introduction to the Thirtieth-Anniversary Edition of Invisible Man,” Ellison argued that the focus his fiction placed on human possibility (and the possibilities contained in social institutions) is reflective of the best and Being Ralph Ellison 55 highest aspiration of politics: “While fiction is but a form of symbolic action, a mere game of ‘as if,’ therein lies its true function and its potential for effecting change. For at its most serious, just as is true of politics at its best, it is a thrust toward a human ideal.”11 For Ellison, the novel functions best when it functions in direct engagement with democracy rather than as a tool in the service of politicized ideology.12 Ellison was certainly not blind to the realities contained in the disparities between ideal and reality, principles and practice, aspiration and lived experience, or shadow and act. Invisible Man, his essays, interviews, public lectures, and even the unfinished second novel are all encircled by his understanding of the tensions framed by these very ideas. Although the percep- tion of Ellison’s political commitment has cast a broad shadow across so many of the ways Ellison is considered, if Ellison is read in conversation with the political thinkers and authors with whom he claimed to situate his work (and those against whom he situated his opposition), perhaps the most compelling critique of the actual political response that emerges is that Ellison was not able to provide clarity and insight about the nation’s role—historically and in the nation’s ever-emerging present—in defining and maintaining some kind of national ethos of American individualism. Both Ellison’s fiction and his nonfiction largely have their roots in the en- vironment of an evolving black American consciousness of the effects of seg- regation, a consciousness that was ultimately bolstered by Brown v. Board of Education and the civil rights movement. The sense of possibility, ambiguously suggested at the conclusion of Invisible Man and presented more directly in his subsequent nonfiction work, is that American culture could not exist without a black presence. On the lower frequencies or elsewhere, race did not preclude the black artist or intellectual from speaking to (and on behalf of) all Ameri- cans. Although Invisible Man was written and published in the final years of le- galized segregation in the United States, the novel was also profoundly forward looking in its ambiguous observations about the ways race is lived and expe- rienced in a nation unable (or unwilling) to live up to the idealized aspirations contained in its founding documents. The arrival of the end of legalized segregation did little to make either El- lison or the novel’s pre–Brown v. Board of Education, pre–civil rights message seem dated or irrelevant. As a matter of fact, the rapid changes the nation un- derwent during the civil rights movement and the Black Arts, Black Power, and black nationalist years between 1955 and the mid-1970s actually burnished El- lison’s reputation and the reputation of his novel. Although critics of all persua- sions found Ellison’s allusively modernist language unnecessarily distancing to all but a small segment of white readers and completely alienating to the black audience that it ostensibly depicted, the novel nevertheless came to epitomize a mid-twentieth-century sense of confessional alienation and disengagement. Invisible Man was chosen by a group of white critics polled by the New York Herald Tribune’s Book Week in the September 26, 1965, issue as the best post– World War II novel. The poll ranked Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita (1955) and J. 56 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye (1954) just below it. Ellison himself placed near the top of the critics’ poll ranking authors.13 Ellison’s own counternarrative to the novel, in the form of interviews, essays, and even the publication of ex- cerpts from his second novel, contributed to ceaseless scrutiny and reevaluation of Invisible Man. The fact that the novel’s focus is on the underground, the unseen, the over- looked, and the “lower frequencies” means that Ellison was able to present voices, circumstances, and political and social ideas that precede by decades, in some cases, the racial conflicts that were foregrounded after Brown v. Board of Education, the lynching of Emmett Till, the increasing effectiveness of the civil rights movement, the rise of the Black Power movement, and the New Breed writers associated with the Black Power movement. The novel also foreshad- owed the rancorous discussions of canon and multiculturalism that consumed the 1980s and 1990s. The root of the idea to which Ellison returned over the course of his long writing career had its basis in his reading of nineteenth- century American history. African Americans shaped the direction of Ameri- can history through the culture, through resilient participation in mainstream America, and, perhaps most importantly, through an unwavering belief in the loftiest aspirations contained in America’s democratic ideals. Ellison’s work speaks relentlessly to this understanding of America’s past. But for Ellison, the crucible that forged the experiences of black people living in America also forged the experiences of white Americans. Slavery and the failure of Recon- struction shaped the experience of life in America, not simply the experience of black life in America. Given Ellison’s revisionary insistence on privileging literature’s aesthetic dimensions over its political responsibilities, it is easy to understand the basis of many of the accusations of Ellison’s apparent reluctance to engage politically with what was unfolding in the 1950s and 1960s. Ellison’s views were in direct opposition to others of his generation whose work ad- dressed the intersections of art, race, and politics. Richard Wright, for example, who had left the country in 1946, eventually to take up permanent residence in Paris, France, saw political engagement as literature’s only response to global inequality. James Baldwin was similarly outspoken in his assessment of art and inequality, as was Amiri Baraka, who came from a position farther left and saw art as being inextricably linked to politics. Yet Ellison was neither apolitical nor antipolitical. For Ellison, virtually all of his public work represented a kind of political action because so much of it contained the crucial element of social critique. To Ellison’s way of thinking, his politicism differed in form and style, not commitment, from those who criti- cized him most harshly: “I never felt it necessary to go out and justify my mili- tancy. My writings are there. I am not an ideologist. . . . I’m not a separatist. The imagination is integrative. That’s how you make the new—by putting some- thing else with what you’ve got. And I’m unashamedly an American integra- tionist.”14 To put it as directly as possible, Ellison’s view of his intellectual and artistic roles in the public sphere had virtually nothing to do with preserving and Being Ralph Ellison 57 insisting on his blackness and virtually everything to do with making it clear to the American mainstream that black experience was synonymous with the nation’s experience. All of Ellison’s aesthetic work coalesced into an elaborate mosaic of social criticism that was itself a political act. While Ellison is some- times seen as being politically distant, particularly relative to civil rights and Black Power activists, the counternarrative that Ellison constructed and main- tained was that it was his art itself that defined a political stance rather than the other way around. The relationship between African Americans and the racial- ized political ideologies that involved black people relative to the nation were at the time most often being posited in particularly dualistic ways: integration and assimilation versus separatist nationalism. The question that Ellison raised in Invisible Man and quickly followed in his National Book Award acceptance speech in 1953, later published as “Brave Words for a Startling Occasion,” has much more to do with how best to acknowledge the hybrid composition of the nation’s past (and the contemporary lived experiences of its occupants) without simultaneously erasing and making invisible the very real differences of its citi- zens.15 How can the whole be understood as a place of integration for distinctly unique component parts? Ellison’s view focused on the tension that existed between exerting one’s individual rights and desires in the context of a larger democratic environment that impaired individual self-determination. Ellison never stopped advocating for a position that recognized the shared, intertwined history of black and white Americans, which is not to say that Elli- son saw the experience of that shared history to be the same for blacks as it was for whites. And Ellison never used his ideas about cultural hybridity as a point of departure for his own racial denial or as a justification for any kind of racial ambivalence whatsoever. His point of view as a racialized subject informed the way he conceptualized himself as an intellectual and literary artist in the pub- lic sphere. His ideas about cross-culturalism should not be taken to mean that racial difference did not exist for him. He had found segregation profoundly troubling. He found the discrimination spawned by the legacy of segregation to be deplorable. But perhaps the fact that Ellison’s work compellingly identified the shortcomings of the nation’s attitudes about race also meant that Ellison himself became identified with those shortcomings and, by extension, respon- sible for the formulation of solutions—or at least viable responses—to those shortcomings.16 While Ellison certainly recognized and accepted that respon- sibility, particularly as he obscured the radicalism that characterized the earlier years of his writing career in favor of emphasizing his aesthetic concerns, he emphatically resisted any pressure to formulate a response on the basis of ideol- ogy. Although he valued his racial membership, Ellison also realized that race alone put him in the position of being one voice among many: “I am, after all, only a minor member, not the whole damned tribe; in fact, most Negroes have never heard of me. I could shake the nation for a while with a crime or with indecent disclosures, but my pride lies in earning the right to call myself quite simply ‘writer.’”17 58 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. Part of the cause for the formation of Ellison’s intellectual and artistic opin- ions and the ways they were read may have as much to do with a combination of the nation’s political changes as it did with the convergence of activist writing that shaped the spirit of the age. Ellison’s literary authority continued to expand. His influence continued to deepen on the reputation of Invisible Man, the essays he published (and eventually collected in Shadow and Act, which he published in 1964), and the public’s anticipation for his second novel, from which he had excerpted “And Hickman Arrives” in 1960, “Juneteenth” in 1965, and “Cadil- lac Flambé” in 1973. All told, Ellison published eight excerpted passages from the novel-in-progress between 1960 and 1977 and these pieces further fueled what was already keen anticipation for the follow-up to Invisible Man. But while Ellison continued to work, his writings and public lectures increasingly became seen as backward-looking, disengaged from the changes American so- ciety was rapidly undergoing, and overly integrationist in their focus on culture and literary craft. This view was reinforced by the publication of Shadow and Act, which was a backward-looking collection of essays that traced the impact of growing up in the former Oklahoma territories on Ellison’s conception of race, nation, music, and literary art. What is at stake in the disagreement between Ellison and the New Breed writers and activists with whom he found himself at odds is a reassessment of a series of fundamental assumptions about the nation’s political, artistic, and social values. And the conflict was as much within black America as it was between the nation’s mainstream and the often-competing beliefs operating within disparate strands of black social and political thought. The New Breed, at least as Larry Neal saw it in his afterword to Black Fire, could define itself only through its actions, and its actions could be rendered only through a syn- thesis of all the nationalistic movements that had preceded it. In doing so, New Breed writers recognized the need for an inherent separation between black writing and the nation that produced it: “Every black writer in America has had to react to this history, either to make peace with it, or make war with it. It can- not be ignored. Every black writer has chosen a particular stance towards it.”18 Black Arts writing saw itself as engaged in the elimination of double conscious- ness, not in the artistic integration of double consciousness. Ellison’s writing and the narrative he continued to construct around it felt particularly irrelevant because the trope of invisibility that made Ellison’s narrator invisible to both white and black people was antithetical to a movement that established itself on the premise that black people were not invisible to other black people.19 At a time when New Breed writers and activists were also interested in looking backward toward Jim Crow to justify their thoughts about a separate black na- tion, Ellison was using the legacy of segregation to argue against the viability of any cultural or artistic assessment that could not embrace the necessity of plurality and cultural integration. Although Ellison contributed to leftist publications and attended Com- munist Party events like the League of American Writers Congress, which the Being Ralph Ellison 59 party sponsored in 1937, Ellison subsequently claimed that he was less driven by what he labeled propagandistic dogma regarding the Negro struggle and instead claimed a far deeper concern with the influence and potential disso- lution of black social, cultural, and political agency. In devising a narrative that dissented from fully embracing leftist thought, Ellison essentially, without embracing nationalist ideology, created an alternate nationalist vision predat- ing the nationalism that subsequently rejected him. What Neal belatedly rec- ognized in his 1970 essay titled “Ellison’s Zoot Suit” was that Ellison’s sleight of hand had substituted cultural inequality for Marxism’s focus on class-based inequality. This is the idea that resurfaces in Ellison’s disparaging response to Blues People: Negro Music in White America (1963), in which Amiri Baraka, who wrote at the time as LeRoi Jones, examines the cultural values conveyed through black music in America.20 Neal locates Ellison’s earliest attempts to wrestle the often-competing (sometimes antithetical) claims of culture and poli- tics in an unsigned editorial comment likely written by Ellison that appeared in the pages of The Negro Quarterly in 1943: “A third major problem, and one that is indispensible to the centralization and direction of power, is that of learning the meaning of the myths and symbols which abound among the Negro masses.”21 At this early stage of his writing life, Ellison had already found himself stuck between two antithetical positions that remained in his writing conscious- ness in some form or other for the remainder of his life: how to articulate a meaningfully sustainable vision of identity and self-definition that is entirely distinct from the white cultural space in which it exists while simultaneously immersing itself in the chaos of competing impulses that define the American democratic process.22 In 1943, Ellison was trying to make these connections within the framework of Marxist ideology. Ellison’s eventual decision was os- tensibly to dismiss the political in favor of the artistic. For Ellison, politics discouraged the production of true art rather than stimulated it. Neal recognized what Ellison had begun working through a generation earlier and saw that the political confines imposed by a movement seemingly committed to black ad- vancement in the 1960s and early 1970s could be as artistically confining as the leftist politics in which he participated during the years of his literary ap- prenticeship. Not everyone was as willing as Neal to reevaluate their thinking about Ellison’s body of work relative to the New Breed writers and political activists working to leave behind Negroness in favor of blackness that increas- ingly recognized diasporic movements worldwide and brought these interna- tional coalitions into conversation with each other, sometimes under a broad, Marxist-inspired umbrella. The ideas at the heart of Invisible Man are that an antihero is unable to come to terms with the various visible and invisible politi- cal agendas competing for his acceptance. The black left grappled with these ideas in the 1930s and 1940s. These same ideas were also recognized by 1960s black radical writers and activists. While Ellison was reluctant to draw a direct line of connection between his experiences with the left and 1960s black radical 60 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. writing, the narrative he devised functioned around the dangers of subordinat- ing art to politics. For Ellison, folklore, not political ideology, reached to the most profound areas of the black presence in the United States: “In folklore we tell what Negro experience really is.”23 That is the element evident in the un- signed Negro Quarterly comment that I earlier cited, toward which Ellison was reaching even during the Marxist phase of his writing life. If there is a recurring political theme in Ellison’s recalibration of his audi- ence’s response to his ideas between the publication of Invisible Man and the conclusion of the civil rights years, it could certainly be the risks involved in the politics of introspection. Leaving aside Ellison’s thoughts about the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the civil rights movement, and his unwavering support for President Lyndon B. Johnson, Ellison’s insistence on the centrality of black people in the United States as American was crucial to understanding any larger conception of the nation. This view meant that his ideas about what amounts to pluralistic hybridity were more than at odds with a movement that valued something they termed black authenticity and, increasingly for some, black separatism. In a letter that Ellison wrote to his friend Stanley Edgar Hyman on May 29, 1970 (it was later published in New Republic in the March 1, 1999, issue of the magazine under the title “American Culture Is of a Whole”), Ellison angrily wrote, “As you damn well know, I view my people as American and not African, and while our experience differs in unique ways from that of white Americans, it is never absolutely at variance with the dominant American mode. Diversity within unity is the confounding reality.”24 Ellison’s unwavering insistence on cross-culturalism was the piece that, for many, bound Ellison more closely to the problem rather than to its solution. His insistence on ignoring the urgencies of civil rights and the nation’s increasing military involvement in Southeast Asia in favor of lectures focused on nineteenth-century literature certainly did not help bolster his public stature as a black artist and intellectual for many of the next generation’s black intellectuals and artists. Ellison’s apparent disdain for much of the nation’s black leadership seems to suggest his belief in the im- possibility of a viable public role for black artists and intellectuals who waded out of the realm of art and intellectualism and into the world of activism. As Invisible Man continued to take on a life of its own while Ellison struggled with the decades-long composition of his second novel, he saw the world he was attempting to chronicle as being a mass of fluidity. He had recognized and championed that view of fluidity earlier as a kind of American exceptionalism but now argued that pluralistic fluidity had become the very glue that cemented black experience to America’s democratic experience. With that sense of fluidity in mind, perhaps it is in “The Completion of Per- sonality” where what Ellison says about his writing also seems to speak most forcefully toward art and his extraordinarily self-contained presence as a public intellectual: “You just write for your own time, while trying to write in terms of the density of experience, knowing perfectly well that life repeats itself. Even Being Ralph Ellison 61 in this rapidly changing United States it repeats itself. The mystery is that while repeating itself it always manages slightly to change its mask. To be able to grasp a little of that change within continuity, to communicate it across all these divisions of background and individual experience, seems enough for me. If you’re lucky, of course, if you splice into one of the deeper currents of life, then you have a chance of your work lasting a little longer.”25 Notes 1. Lawrence Jackson, Ralph Ellison Emergence of Genius (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 2002), ix. The novel reached number eight on the New York Times best-seller list but had a profound influence on American literature, on the national conversation about race and its social and politi- cal implications, and on the subsequent trajectory of Ellison’s intellectual and artistic work for the remainder of his life. 2. Maryemma Graham and Amritjit Singh, eds., Conversations with Ralph Ellison (Jackson, MS: University Press of Mississippi, 1995), 122. Also quoted in Lawrence Buell, The Dream of the Great American Novel (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2014), 176. 3. During the civil rights years, Ellison was sought after to teach at Bard College; Columbia University; Princeton University; the University of Chicago; the University of California, Los Angeles; Yale University; Rutgers University; and New York University. He served, between 1961 and 1969, on the Legal Defense Committee of 100 of the National Association for the Advance- ment of Colored People, which approved legal defense fund-raising for the association’s nonviolent sit-ins and Freedom Rides throughout the South. His work was recognized for acknowledgment by the American Academy of Arts and Letters in Rome, he became a member of the National Council on the Arts (which was later reorganized into the National Endowment for the Arts and the Na- tional Endowment for the Humanities), he served for nine years on the Carnegie Commission on Educational Television, he received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Lyndon B. Johnson in 1969, he received the Chevalier de l’Ordre des Artes et Lettres from France’s Ministry of Cultural Affairs, he became a member of the Century Club (an exclusive previously all-white male social club), and he was elected in 1975 to the American Academy of Arts and Letters. 4. For summaries of reviews of Invisible Man, see Jackson, Emergence of Genius, and Arnold Rampersad, Ralph Ellison: A Biography (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2007). 5. Jackson, Emergence of Genius, ix. 6. Barbara Foley, Wrestling with the Left: The Making of Ralph Ellison’s Invisible Man (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010). 7. Adam Bradley, Ralph Ellison in Progress: From Invisible Man to Three Days before the Shooting . . . (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2010), 9. 8. Foley argues very persuasively that Ellison added the epilogue in an attempt to make white readers feel more comfortable. This is certainly the area of the novel that invokes the specter of universalism most forcefully, particularly in the narrator’s closing invitation to unite an otherwise fractious, disparate readership. Foley, Wrestling, 325–29, 336–49. 9. John S. Wright, Shadowing Ralph Ellison (Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2006), 17. 10. Graham and Singh, Conversations, xi. 11. Ralph Ellison, “Introduction to the Thirtieth-Anniversary Edition of Invisible Man.” In The Collected Essays of Ralph Ellison, edited by John F. Callahan (New York: Modern Library, 1995), 482. 12. Ralph Ellison, “The Novel as a Function of Democracy.” In Callahan, ed., Collected Essays, 755–57. 13. Buell, The Dream, 180–81. 14. Graham and Singh, Conversations, 235. See also Timothy Parrish, Ralph Ellison and the Genius of America (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2012), 131 n. 1; Ross Posnock, Color and Culture: Black Writers and the Making of the Modern Intellectual (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998), 9; and Danielle S. Allen, Talking to Strangers: Anxieties of Citizenship since Brown v. Board of Education (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004), 27. 15. This is precisely the point made by Allen, Talking to Strangers, 18–19, 27–31. See also Parrish, Genius of America, 128–40. 16. Ralph Ellison, “The World and the Jug.” In Callahan, ed., Collected Essays, 171–85. 17. Ellison, “The World and the Jug,” In Callahan, ed., Collected Essays, 185. 18. LeRoi Jones and Larry Neal, eds. Black Fire: An Anthology of Afro- American Writing (New York: Morrow, 1968), 647. 19. Jones and Neal, Black Fire, 652. 62 Sterling Lecater Bland Jr. 20. Larry Neal, “Ellison’s Zoot Suit,” in Speaking for You: The Vision of Ralph Ellison, edited by Kimberly W. Benston (Washington, DC: Howard University Press, 1987), 111–13. 21. Ralph Ellison, “Editorial Comment,” Negro Quarterly: A Review of Negro Life and Cul- ture 1, no. 4 (Winter/Spring 1943): 301. Ellison served as the journal’s managing editor. Given the editorial’s subject matter, its approach to the theme, its tone, and the development of its ideas, it is entirely reasonable to ascribe authorship to Ellison. Angelo Herndon is listed on the masthead as editor in chief, but Ellison, who was far less well known in leftist circles, is recognized to have borne the greater responsibility in obtaining contributions to the journal. 22. Neal, “Ellison’s Zoot Suit,” 112. 23. Ralph Ellison, “A Very Stern Discipline.” In Callahan, ed., Collected Essays, 733. 24. Ralph Ellison, Letter to Stanley Edgar Hyman dated May 29, 1970, in “American Culture Is of a Whole: From the Letters of Ralph Ellison,” with an introduction by John F. Callahan, New Republic 220, no. 9 (March 1, 1999), 41. 25. Ralph Ellison, “A Completion of Personality.” In The Collected Essays of Ralph Ellison, edited by John F. Callahan (New York: Modern Library, 1995), 806. 
work_xrbfwemfqng3vkjnl3yi2e2ruy	----	Quoting "the environment:: Touchstones on Earth University of Massachusetts Amherst From the SelectedWorks of Donal Carbaugh 2007 Quoting "the environment:: Touchstones on Earth Donal Carbaugh, University of Massachusetts Amherst Available at: https://works.bepress.com/donal_carbaugh/30/ http://www.umass.edu https://works.bepress.com/donal_carbaugh/ https://works.bepress.com/donal_carbaugh/30/ RESPONSE TO COX Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’: Touchstones on Earth Donal Carbaugh This essay reflects upon the purposes of studying environmental communication by focusing on the variety of ways we quote ‘‘the environment’’ in our studies. Special attention is given to balancing the twin objectives of speaking about ‘‘the environment,’’ while also listening to what the environment says to us. In the process, we can serve a diversity of peoples, eco-parts and processes, through a language which can keep that diversity in view. How, then, can we assess movement, toward these ends? A proposal is made: We can gather Touchstones on EARTH into our studies, reminding ourselves that: Earth, ‘‘Environment,’’ is doubly quoted: Both the word and the world speak; Action is engaged in words, environments, and their peoples; Responsible research takes nature, or earth, to be the measure of the good; Time helps temper enthusiasms, and allows enduring insights to be built; Heuristic explorations as these can create insights about communication and environment, while generating better ways of dwelling on earth. Keywords: Ethnography; Nature and Culture; Relation of Words to World; Tenets for Environmental Communication Professor Cox has delivered a provocative programmatic address, and essay, concerning the theory and practice of environmental communication. The main question he raises is of perennial importance: What is the purpose of environmental communication as a field? Implicit in the question are two imperatives. We must ask such a question, and periodically, we must revisit it: Toward what ends are we working when we engage in studies of environmental communication? Professor Cox discusses instances where our quick responsiveness to environmental crises is needed. He brings to our attention enduring energy issues concerning coal, Donal Carbaugh is professor of Communication at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. The author wishes to thank Tema Milstein for discussing, reading, and reacting to an earlier draft of this essay; as well as Michelle Scollo and Eric Morgan for continuing discussions of these matters. Correspondence to: Department of Communication, University of Massachusetts, Amherst, MA 01003, USA. Email: carbaugh@comm.umass.edu ISSN 1752-4032 (print)/ISSN 1752-4040 (online) # 2007 Taylor & Francis DOI: 10.1080/17524030701334276 Environmental Communication Vol. 1, No. 1, May 2007, pp. 64 �73 oil, climate, as well as how these issues are inextricably tied to verbal interpretations of what each issue indeed is. Highlighted is the way environmental concerns revolve around shifts in terms: are we experiencing ‘‘global warming’’ or ‘‘climatic dislocation’’? Is this an ‘‘exotic species’’ or an ‘‘invasive species’’? Is this land rendered a ‘‘mountain to be preserved’’ or a ‘‘project to be developed’’? Are we currently visiting a ‘‘national park’’ or ‘‘an occupied territory’’? History, politics, and cultures are invoked in the rhetorical uses of terms, in the ways our world is verbally cast, and in the social scenes constituted through these uses, through these ways of speaking (Carbaugh, 1996; Carbaugh and Rudnick, 2006; Schultz, 2001; Weaver, 1996). In his address, Professor Cox’s comments at times both illustrate and lament a particular usage as when environmental discourse highlights specific entities (e.g., a focus on trees and species) while easily hiding what each is part and parcel of (e.g., the forest and interdependent ecocommunities). Tied into this mode of analytic rationality is what we might call a linguistic lag factor, due to a hyperfocus on some verbal part over the larger parcel on which it is dependent. Apparently, the ability to verbally interpret the larger parcel plods along well behind the rhetoric of the part* as when our terms focus on endangered species over their communities*while in the meantime there is a tragic passing of nature’s larger thresholds, as the ecosystem declines, the climate warms, the water becomes too acidic, and the like. As a result, we stand on the beach staring at a starfish, before realizing we are about to be consumed by a tsunami. The world’s waves sweep around us as we struggle to understand what hit us, trying to keep our proverbial head above the water. Investigating the terrain of environmental discourses, that is, the communication of environmental issues, entities, and integrative systems, necessitates care- ful thinking, action based in what we know about the diversity of parts and processes, through a language that can keep those issues, entities, and systems in view. What, then, can we do, toward these ends? Professor Cox’s comments insist that our research be responsible, emphasizing how the qualities of verbal communication that are intimately linked to our under- standing are thus also linked to our actions concerning ‘‘environmental crises.’’ A rhetoric of urgency is formulated, prodding us to become engaged on behalf of our planet, and thus on behalf of ourselves. Toward that end, he formulates a useful set of ‘‘tenets’’ or principles or premises that may serve as starting-points for developing such understandings, and for responsible actions. I would like to focus on these, reflecting a little bit upon each, taking them seriously, for I find the group together to be quite fertile grounds for thought. Let’s start with the first: ‘‘ ‘Environment’ imbricates material and social/symbolic resources’’ (Cox, 2007, p. 12). Reading further, Professor Cox explains that our understanding of ‘‘the natural world and environmental problems’’ is ‘‘mediated by systems of representation*by human communication’’ (p. 12). This makes good sense to me, and I want to explore in some detail specifically what this might mean. In my first reading, I was intrigued by the word, ‘‘imbricates,’’ and admittedly, wasn’t exactly sure what it meant. There, on page 1378 of my Oxford Compact Dictionary, the term was defined through metaphor, ‘‘to place so as to overlap,’’ as in Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’ 65 the layering of one tile over another. One intriguing reading of this first tenet, then, with this definition, is that ‘‘environment’’ overlaps, or is layered over ‘‘material and social/symbolic resources.’’ Given this, we might immediately wonder, what is layered over the material, and conclude, well, words, representations, or signs. We are reminded that ‘‘environment’’ is a word that adds a layer, linguistically, onto material, social/symbolic processes. The metaphor suggests, then, that ‘‘environment’’ be understood as a verbal lamination on top of, or surrounding such material, social/ symbolic process, or entities. And it is that verbal lamination that grounds, or is used to express, our meanings about the material. In a sense, then, ‘‘environment’’ as a word is laminated over the utterly real environment. Good enough. I then began puzzling considerably over the quotations around ‘‘environment’’ in this first tenet. What does this mean, environment in quotations? One possible reading of the quotations is an emphasis on the process of imbrication, as a way of reminding us that ‘‘environment’’ is a word, being quoted, drawing attention to its use. As a quoted word, this suggests that we reflect upon standard usage concerning the matters we discuss, and to what we mean when we use the word, and words like ‘‘environment.’’ Consulting Cox further about this, we find two additional points on the matter: that ‘‘environment’’ in particular involves what ‘‘we know,’’ ‘‘our ideas, beliefs, attitudes, policies, and practices involving the natural world and environmental problems’’ (p. 12). We might think of this as an anchoring of ‘‘our ideas’’ in the cultural world of taken-for-granted knowledge, as formed in the sediment of our social sayings. We find, further, that this knowledge is already ‘‘mediated by systems of representation*by human communication’’ (p. 12). We are born into an expressive system that mediates our relationship with the environment. So both our ideas about, and our expressions of, the world are implicated in the way we laminate the ‘‘environment.’’ At this point, Professor Cox adds a second example of this process that is like the word ‘‘environment.’’ It is ‘‘the very idea of wilderness.’’ He notes how this idea is indeed also ‘‘mediated through various technologies’’. In fact, he states, ‘‘ ‘wilderness’ already, inescapably is mediated’’ (p. 12, quotation marks in original). (This statement about ‘‘wilderness’’ is drawn from the call for the 2005 Conference on Communication and Environment.) So, ‘‘environment’’ and ‘‘wilderness’’ are, in a sense, ‘‘ideas,’’ encapsulated in verbal concepts, which are ‘‘already, inescapa- bly . . . mediated.’’ Through these pre-existing terms, and similar others, we are ‘‘wired’’ and drawn into what might be called a ‘‘prison-house’’ of language, rhetorical terms and tropes that stand over and between our relation with nature’s world. Given this, we find ourselves caught in a grand imbricating process, representa- tions revolving around a central signifier, ‘‘environment.’’ On this premise, we are all already subjected to a verbal layering process, principally, but not exclusively, of placing words over the world. It is those words that already exist, on top of each other, and on top of our world. Is it possible to scrape off the layers of words and get to our natural world? It seems, Cox reminds us, that there is some glimmer of hope that we can. But our footing in this matter is not quite as firm. 66 D. Carbaugh We find the first tenet has another foot, if ever so lightly and only delicately on the ground. Professor Cox guides us to Peterson, Peterson, and Grant (2004) to find this additional footing, in the ‘‘reality’’ of the rhetoric of representations like ‘‘environ- ment’’ and ‘‘wilderness.’’ Here, the term ‘‘reality’’ evidently refers to something, in some sense, beyond language? As a result, Cox’s language of the first tenet places one verbal foot in rhetorical ‘‘tropes,’’ ‘‘social constructions,’’ and ‘‘social practices,’’ and the other in ‘‘real terrains,’’ ‘‘real consequences,’’ and ‘‘biophysical processes.’’ We are reminded through the quotations around the former set*tropes, social construc- tions, social practices*that these are already humanly manufactured ideas within a linguistically mediated world. The latter set is also, apparently, of this sort, that is, terms in our language, yet somehow this latter set goes beyond the (mere?) social and verbal realm. (I will return to this dynamic between the sets of terms in a moment.) Through this dual usage, then, and treated metaphorically as an imbrication, the first tenet makes explicit the wordedness of environment or wilderness, casts this process as a layering of significations over ‘‘material, and social/symbolic processes;’’ yet also the first tenet props the door open to the real world, through ‘‘the real world.’’ With this reading in mind, let’s return for a minute to the question: What to make of those quotations? I think a more elaborate response to the question can fortify our view. As we have discussed, we can understand ‘‘environment,’’ as quoted, as a word that is, in one sense, somehow layered onto the material stuff of nature. Some may worry that this characterization wrongly assumes that the ‘‘material’’ of ‘‘reality’’ is more primary than the ‘‘words’’ used to discuss it, like ‘‘environment.’’ We might respond to them by saying: Perhaps this word-to-stuff relation is also interpretable as an imbricating process in which words and world are mutually constituted. Just as our language struggles to make sense of the natural world, so too do our senses of the natural world seek a language about that of which we are a part. Whether we proclaim a determining force in one or both directions, these readings draw attention to our word, ‘‘environment,’’ and its intimate link to nature’s world. Our interpretation here also makes the point that our words, like ‘‘environment,’’ have a formative hand in shaping our understanding and our actions regarding nature’s world. I take all of this to be good, as far as it goes. But, as much as I agree with and espouse these points myself, I also think there is a risk this view might be a bit oversocialized, or a bit overdetermined from a rhetorical view. The verbal or social ‘‘construction metaphor’’ can be overworked, all of us being wordsmiths while losing sight (and sense) of the raw materials that are the subjects in our constructions. We might sound a horn of caution by returning to the quoted environment. How so? There is, I believe, a deeper and more general interpretation possible of the quotations around environment. In this sense, attention is not drawn in the first instance to the word ‘‘environment,’’ but to a process through which the world expresses itself. In this sense, when we write, or speak, about such matters, we are indeed quoting the environment, serving as spokespersons for what it*that is, the world*has indeed already ‘‘said.’’ Heard in this way, and ironically here through Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’ 67 these words, we are drawing to our attention, not the word itself, but the natural world that it references, and the processes through which it indeed ‘‘speaks’’ about itself, and thus to us. This point is difficult to put into words, and this is why the quoted ‘‘environment’’ serves it well. We are reminded, in this deeper sense, that we are, indeed, putting into words a communicative process that is in the first instance not constructed through words, but is something that has already been ‘‘said’’ by the environment. 1 Why else do we walk beautiful beaches, or oil-soaked beaches, if not, partly at least, to hear what each says, and thus for inspiration in better ways of ‘‘speaking’’ about them? Why do we, as Henry David Thoreau, saunter through swamps, or like John Muir make our way through the wonderful storms in a wilderness valley, or watch the ouzel, if not to hear nature’s voice, beyond the constraints of civilization, telling us things our prior words could not quite capture. And struggle to capture nature’s ‘‘sayings’’ we must. Ralph Waldo Emerson reminded us that ‘‘we know more from nature than we can at will communicate’’ (Emerson, 1983, p. 23). I think we should never forget Emerson’s dictum, and thus should not forget the process from whence it came: Nature speaks, we listen, we somehow learn, we struggle to put what we have learned into words, but we are forever frustrated by the process, thus we return to nature, and forever enjoy the spiral*it’s never really a simple cycle since we learn something each time*all over again. A challenge this poses for all of us is to open our understanding to the world beyond our words, beyond our representations of it, to learn anew from it, and to be in a position better to speak about what we come to know and thus to act accordingly. This suggests further that our words not become the primary or exclusive measure of things, but that nature be so. Put differently, the medium of words must not dominate our means of communication when striving to know nature’s world. This reading of the quotations elaborates features of, and adds important emphases to our opening tenet. We are reminded that our education and understanding should never be focused solely on our words, or simply on our verbal and visual representations of nature, environment, or wilderness. Yes, the verbal representations are crucial and focal in much of what we do as environmental communication scholars and practitioners, but these are not our sole concerns. In yet other words, we must focus of course on ‘‘representations of environment,’’ but we must also focus on its presentations , in the first instance on its being in and of itself, what it has to say to us. We must not forget that our verbal imbrications are in some sense secondary translations of other natural systems of expression, from rocks and rapids to ravens. And we must become better attuned to those other expressive systems, to what each is saying to us, in its own way, and then we might learn to speak better, in our own words, on its behalf, as a result of this process. Without constant reminding of this as part of the larger process, we stand leaning heavily on our own words, and are somewhat less steady in the world we seek to understand, or the world we ‘‘stand up for’’ and care for, as Edward Abbey put it. There are several cautionary points here that bear repeating. One is the keeping of a balanced view, keeping both the world and our words about it in sight. Each is not 68 D. Carbaugh the other. We should not confuse the one for the other. We must be careful not to load the dice in favor of our own interests in the linguistic, rhetorical, socially constructed nature of things. As Professor Cox states, our ‘‘representations’’ like ‘‘environment’’ are indeed already constructed. Where, then, do we stand in order to gain a larger perspective on our ‘‘interested’’ representations? Are we somehow stuck in our own worded worlds, mired in our vested imbrications, interested party versus interested party? How do we move on? One way is to learn to listen beyond the human words, beyond the humanly manufactured systems of representation. In the process, we can consult what else is being ‘‘said,’’ through other means of expression, by the whales, waters, winds, and others which can suggest much to us as we listen. If we are willing to admit this as a part of a basic tenet, we can balance our words with what we hear in other ways in the world, opening our words to the world’s teachings, making nature the measure of what we say so not to be enslaved by our own preconstructed representations. 2 Note that the caution involves several ingredients, balancing our words with the world, our verbal with various other means of expression, and our metaphors of ‘‘construction’’ and ‘‘representation’’ with direct apprehensions of nature’s offerings, with what indeed is immediately present to us through this mode, through, what Paul Rezendes calls ‘‘direct communication.’’ 3 This then situates our first tenet with a doubly quoted, dual allegiance, to know ‘‘environment,’’ ‘‘wilderness,’’ ‘‘nature’’ and the like as words and signs that are already represented to us, and which already mediate our relation with the world; but also, to know what is being expressed to us by the world itself, through its other means of expression, beyond our familiar verbal and visual representations. Through both, communication mediates the relations between people and nature, with this inviting a larger view of environmental communication, from words to other wordless means of communication, affirming both as powerful sources of knowledge. Our allegiance can, then, stand squarely both on various social representations of the word, and on the world’s presentations of itself. 4 We can, now, trace the reverberations of this doubly quoted environment throughout the remaining tenets that Professor Cox formulates. A second reminds us that ‘‘social/symbolic representations of environment embody ‘interested’ orientations toward their object(s)’’ (p. 13). Any environmental discourse elevates some vantage for viewing above others, some perspective, position, and purpose over others. This brings into view the partial and selective nature of any environmental discourse, and heightens our sense of at least one problem: If each such discourse about the environment is indeed partial, and each indeed interested, what to do about that? Too often, each antagonizes another, asserting its own interests against the others, resulting in a war of words and a worse world. Listening to the range, and consulting the world in which each plays its role, may give a renewable place from which to speak. Responsible research and constructive action can be formulated accordingly. Let me briefly discuss an example of how this may be so. Over the past years I have been participating in a land-use controversy in western Massachusetts (Carbaugh, 1996). My initial perspective, position, and purpose in this Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’ 69 controversy was as an avowed environmentalist, tutored in the trails of the terrain, seeking to stop development in an area of natural beauty with a deep history. Over time, by exploring others’ discourses for the place, I began understanding the limits of my discourse, its partial perspective, and indeed its potentially destructive qualities in this case. Placing an ethnographic cap over my environmental hat helped me understand various counter-discourses and opposing codes in ways that were instructive and productive not only to me, but to others caught in the controversy. It also led me back to the trails, to nature’s place, consulting it for further knowledge and guidance. Eventually, I wrote about these discursive dynamics, and at one point my words were quoted by a state environmental official at a public meeting as a rationale for bringing diverse interests together in order to live better in this natural and social place. The meeting resulted in the creation of a political body of various interests who had the authority to put on paper an official integrative plan for the place. The plan permitted but limited development on it. My discussion about this research here is not solely an exercise in immodesty (I hope), but simply the illustration of a way the careful study of different and dueling environmental discourses can, with a careful consultation of places in the world, result in productively engaged actions. Given the ‘‘interested’’ nature of environmental representations, we must consult the range-in-use, and the earth, giving time to each, to know how best to proceed. Without the range in view, and without nurturing our capability of verbalizing each, we risk being simply ‘‘self-interested,’’ without an integrative stance, unable to be properly attentive to peoples and places. The risks can be considerable. As I write these words, we are at war. Something better is needed. A commitment to understanding multiple discourses, to weaving the best of them together, within places well known, can offer one small kind of hope. Professor Cox’s third tenet reminds us that ‘‘social, economic and ideological contexts both enable and inhibit the production of representations of ‘environment’’’ (p. 13). Just as species live in bioregions, so too do our discourses inhabit their own worlds. At times these are economically driven, at times ideationally driven, and so on. The distinctive histories of places, and discourses about them, need to be understood. Each has affordances; each also has limitations. As Kenneth Burke discussed in his first book, Permanence and Change , our symbolic orientations equip us with capacities, but also constrain us with incapacities (Burke, 1965). This is yet another reason to explore the variety of discourses in view, while consulting the earthly places where each finds root. Just as biodiversity is an important principle in understanding ecosystems, so too is discursive diversity important in grasping human ecocommunities. Embracing the variety, and moving with the range in view, offers a good way to proceed. The final tenet that Professor Cox formulates is this: ‘‘Dominant systems of representation of ‘environment’ influence societal deliberation and/or response to environmental signals, including signs of deterioration of human health, climate, or ecological systems’’ (p. 14). We must seek to understand what each environmental discourse brings into view, what it permits, what it prohibits. A commitment to 70 D. Carbaugh understanding a range, rather than standing with only one, helps loosen the hold of any one on the rest. This, I think, is at the heart of critical praxis. We are informed about a variety of discourses, about that which each espouses to know (i.e., natural worlds), and are thus equipped with knowledge of the range-in-use, ready to act responsibly on the ground, so to speak, of biodiscursive diversity. Based upon this reading and discussion of Professor Cox’s tenets, then, I want to supplement the tenets with a set of Touchstones that summarize some of our main points of discussion. With these, we can draw attention to environmental communication as both what we do when we communicate about the environment AND what the environment or earth is as it ‘‘speaks’’ to us. Both need to be firmly placed if we are to know from whence, and about what, we speak. I have formulated these touchstones as a mnemonic device, so it spells EARTH, and so it takes communication not just as its subject matter, but as its primary theoretical concern. Touchstones on EARTH Earth, ‘‘environment’’ and the like should be understood as doubly quoted, as both words used to say things, and as things or processes ably speaking in their own right. This grounds our views of environmental communication in a dual allegiance to words and worlds, each with voices worth hearing, worthy of deep reflection. Active is a way of characterizing communication research that is engaged in the earth, its peoples, and our communication with each. We seek to be actively responsive to our environment and its needs, to be accessible as well to it and its people. In the process, we seek to understand environmental discourses that mediate relations between people and nature, to understand the places in which they are used, to act in favor of nature, of people, and thus to honor earth, through better knowledge about it. Responsibility in environmental communication aims at the good, here using nature as the measure of what is good. Not only do our words (and other signs) give shape and meanings to the world, but so too does the world shape and give meanings to our words. Responsible research keeps both in view, drawing attention to ways we speak about the environment, while also giving voice to the earth, its diversity of peoples and natural places. Time is necessary for responsible action, and for good environmental commu- nication, research and practice. To know environments, what they say, and what people say about them requires time, and patience. This point stands uneasily beside a need for urgent action, and beside one cultivating a sense of crisis. Certainly crises there are! Yet generating deeper and enduring understandings about such matters is not an exercise in a quick fix, nor is it a formula for fast action. As through traditions of ancient wisdom, time is needed to temper the impulse to get it done now, to productively channel the emotion of urgency, to move in ways steeped in knowledge about environmental words, worlds, and ways people live in places. Based upon time- tested experiences, discipline in one’s research, applied over time, offers something a quick reaction to crises may not. While there are times when quick reaction is Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’ 71 absolutely necessary, there are also times and places when careful research can add to knowledge about communication and environment, actively engaged in the issues it studies, responsibly addressing what is of concern. While we act quickly at times, we must keep in our sights a kind of wisdom, like the late Sioux scholar Vine Deloria (1991) discussed, which has met various generational and practical tests. Heuristic explorations in environmental communication are needed, especially those which generate knowledge about communication as it mediates the relationship between people and earth’s places. Some have explored how some indigenous practices are nonverbally attentive to the world; some are emphasizing the spirited nature of environments; some draw attention to the limits of language in these processes; and so on. We need investigations that inquire how various means of communication are active in and about our worlds. These will help create better insights about communication, environment, and people, and the ways they are related; these will help nurture a variety of ways people live environmentally emplaced lives; these will offer critical perspectives for living well in places, and expressing all that that entails. And so we can gather Touchstones on EARTH into our studies, reminding ourselves that: Earth, ‘‘Environment,’’ is doubly quoted: the word and the world speak. Action is engaged in words, environments, and their peoples. Responsible research takes nature, or earth to be the measure of the good. Time helps temper enthusiasms, and allows enduring insights to be built. Heuristic explorations create insights, while generating better ways to proceed. Notes [1] I am drawing heavily here for background on various literatures including the ideas of ‘‘speaking in silence,’’ by Paul Rezendes (1999); how ‘‘the land stalks people’’ among western Apache by Keith Basso (1996); communicating nonverbally with nature by Michelle Scollo Sawyer (2004); and ‘‘listening to nature’’ among Blackfeet by D. Carbaugh and David Boromisza-Habashi (in press). [2] Wendell Berry’s (1990) essays surrounding ‘‘nature as the measure’’ in What are people for? are highly instructive here. [3] The limits of the ‘‘construction’’ metaphor are discussed in Tim Ingold’s (1992) ‘‘Culture and the perception of environment’’; see also Rezendes (1999, pp. 143 �159). [4] The tenet suggests developing our ability to utilize various means of expression beyond words and manufactured images. Nature’s systems of signification are bountiful, and in need of our attentiveness, in addition to what we have already said about them. For an interesting illustration of this point, see Scollo Sawyer (2004). For a discussion of related ideas and materials, see Carbaugh and Boromisza-Habashi (in press). References Basso, K. (1996). Wisdom sits in places . Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press. Berry, W. (1990). What are people for? San Francisco: North Point Press. 72 D. Carbaugh Burke, K. (1965). Permanence and change . Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill. Carbaugh, D. (1996). Situating selves: The communication of social identity in American scenes . Albany: State University of New York Press. Carbaugh, D., & Boromisza-Habashi, D. (in press). Discourse beyond language: Cultural rhetoric, revelatory insight, and nature. In C. Meyer & F. Girke (Eds.), The interplay of rhetoric and culture . Oxford: Berghahn Book Studies in Rhetoric and Culture III. Carbaugh, D., & Rudnick, L. (2006). Which place, what story: Cultural discourses at the border of the Blackfeet reservation and Glacier National Park. Great Plains Quarterly, 26 (3), 67 �84. Cox, R. (2007). Nature’s ‘‘crisis disciplines’’: Does environmental communication have an ethical duty? Environmental Communication: A Journal of Nature and Culture , 1 , 5 �20. Deloria, V. Jr. (1991). Reflection and revelation: Knowing land, places, and ourselves. In J. A. Swan (Ed.), The power of place and human environments (pp. 28 �40). Wheaton, IL: Quest Books. Emerson, R. W. (1983). Ralph Waldo Emerson essays and lectures: Nature; Addresses, and lectures/ essays . Library of America. Ingold, T. (1992). Culture and the perspection of environment. In E. Croll & D. Parkin (Eds.), Bush base: forest farm. Culture, environment, and development (pp. 39 �56). London: Routledge. Peterson, T. R., Peterson, M. J., & Grant, W. E. (2004). Social practice and biophysical process. In S. L. Senecah (Ed.), Environmental communication yearbook (Vol. 1) (pp. 15 �32). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Rezendes, P. (1999). The wild within . New York: Berkley Books. Schultz, B. (2001). Language and the natural environment. In A. Fill & P. Muhlhausler (Eds.), The ecolinguistics reader: Language, ecology, and environment (pp. 109�114). London: Continuum. Scollo Sawyer, M. (2004). Nonverbal ways of communicating with nature: A cross-case study. In S. L. Senecah (Ed.), Environmental communication yearbook (Vol. 1) (pp. 227 �249). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. Weaver, B. (1996). ‘‘What to do with the mountain people?’’: The darker side of the successful campaign to establish the Great Smokey Mountain National Park. In J. Cantrill & C. Oravec (Eds.), The symbolic earth (pp. 151 �175). Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky. Quoting ‘‘the Environment’’ 73 University of Massachusetts Amherst From the SelectedWorks of Donal Carbaugh 2007 Quoting "the environment:: Touchstones on Earth doi:10.1080/17524030701334276 
work_xwawojch65hzpg2osdrkefvpja	----	doi:10.1080/00313220500482688 Full Terms & Conditions of access and use can be found at http://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rpop20 Patterns of Prejudice ISSN: 0031-322X (Print) 1461-7331 (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rpop20 Margaret Fuller's Rome and the problem of provincial American democracy Timothy M. Roberts To cite this article: Timothy M. Roberts (2006) Margaret Fuller's Rome and the problem of provincial American democracy, Patterns of Prejudice, 40:1, 45-60, DOI: 10.1080/00313220500482688 To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/00313220500482688 Published online: 08 Aug 2006. Submit your article to this journal Article views: 63 http://www.tandfonline.com/action/journalInformation?journalCode=rpop20 http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rpop20 http://www.tandfonline.com/action/showCitFormats?doi=10.1080/00313220500482688 https://doi.org/10.1080/00313220500482688 http://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=rpop20&show=instructions http://www.tandfonline.com/action/authorSubmission?journalCode=rpop20&show=instructions Margaret Fuller’s Rome and the problem of provincial American democracy TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS ABSTRACT Margaret Fuller ’s visit to Italy as a correspondent for the New York Tribune at the time of the 1848 revolutions gave her a unique perspective on them, not only as a feminist intellectual but also as a commentator on the American relationship with revolutionary Europe. In her Tribune writings she addressed issues at once more partisan and more global than those she had covered inside the United States, including the political condition of Italy as a subject state under Austrian imperial control, and as an object of ridicule by many American observers, and the condition of American slavery. Italian peoples and slaves, in her mind, were, like women, oppressed by a transatlantic patriarchy whose prejudices allowed only for white males to enjoy political independence. Fuller called for American support for the Roman republic, but her sympathies did not reflect the thrust of American opinion. Many Americans did not believe Italians were capable of maintaining republican self- government, which was different, they alleged, from their own version, part of the inheritance of the American Revolution. That heritage conferred a unique American revolutionary ‘exceptionalism’. For these Americans, the 1848 revolutions provided evidence that Europe was impulsive, reactionary and flawed; they saw in them confirmation of the superiority of American race relations and democratic society. After her death in 1850, the American Civil War would confirm Fuller’s implicit sense that the United States and Europe were more alike than many Americans of her generation believed or realized. Her critique of American attitudes to the prospect for democracy in Italy provides perspective on the ambiguity of American global leadership today. KEYWORDS American exceptionalism, anti-slavery, 1848 revolutions, Italy, Margaret Fuller, New York Tribune , slavery, transatlantic, US foreign relations I n the middle of the nineteenth century the American feminist and literary scholar Margaret Fuller, stationed in revolutionary Rome, acted as an advocate for two causes: US intervention in revolutionary Europe and the emancipation of American slaves. Until recently, little attention has been This article is adapted from papers the author delivered at conferences of the Society for Historians of the Early American Republic and the American Studies Association of Turkey. For commentaries on the paper he wishes to thank Charles Capper, Barbara Rosenbaum and an anonymous reviewer for Patterns of Prejudice . Patterns of Prejudice, Vol. 40, No. 1, 2006 ISSN 0031-322X print/ISSN 1461-7331 online/06/010045-16 # 2006 Taylor & Francis DOI: 10.1080/00313220500482688 paid to Fuller ’s experiences outside the United States, and her support for the 1848 revolutions has not been studied in relation to her support for the anti-slavery movement.1 But a focus on how Fuller combined a critique of American isolation from Europe with a critique of American slavery can illuminate how her European experience enlarged her perspective. It can also show the relationship between American domestic politics and foreign relations at a formative period in American history. And it can suggest a problematic pattern with regard to how Americans respond to other nations’ attempts at democratic reform and how they see themselves, not only in the nineteenth century but also in the twenty-first. Margaret Fuller in Europe In the year 1848 Europe exploded, seeing popular disturbances from Ireland to Sicily to Hungary. The French monarchy was overthrown for good. Italian and German peoples, who lived at the time in various city-states and small principalities, each attempted national unification. And the peoples of Eastern Europe sought to break up the crusty Austrian Habsburg empire. The revolutions of 1848 provided a fleeting democratic moment in nine- teenth-century Europe.2 Many Americans were at first enthusiastic at the overthrow of the traditional European order.3 But they later became skeptical regarding Europeans’ quest for change, once it became apparent that the European revolutions were not likely to be successful in establishing American-style 1 Among the many works on Fuller are Joan von Mehren, Minerva and the Muse: Life of Margaret Fuller (Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press 1994) and Charles Capper, Margaret Fuller: An American Romantic Life: The Public Years (New York: Oxford University Press 2005). For the impact of Fuller ’s time in Italy on her writing, see Larry Reynolds, European Revolutions and the American Literary Renaissance (New Haven: Yale University Press 1988), and Larry Reynolds, ‘Righteous violence: the Roman republic and Margaret Fuller ’s revolutionary example’, in Charles Capper and Cristina Giorcellie (eds), Margaret Fuller: Transatlantic Crossings in a Revolutionary Age (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press forthcoming). 2 Peter Stearns, 1848: The Revolutionary Tide in Europe (New York: Norton 1974); Jonathan Sperber, The European Revolutions, 1848�/1851 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1994). 3 For Americans’ responses to the 1848 revolutions, see Eugene Curtis, ‘American opinion of the French nineteenth-century revolutions’, American Historical Review, vol. 29, January 1924, 249�/70; John Gazley, American Opinion of German Unification, 1848�/1871 (New York: Columbia University Press 1926); Arthur James May, Contemporary American Opinion on the Mid-century Revolutions in Central Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press 1927); Howard Marraro, American Opinion on the Unification of Italy, 1846�/1861 (New York: Columbia University Press 1932); Donald Spencer, Louis Kossuth and Young America: A Study of Sectionalism and Foreign Policy, 1848�/1852 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press 1977); and Michael Morrison, ‘American reaction to European revolutions, 1848�/1852: sectionalism, memory, and the revolutionary heritage’, Civil War History, vol. 49, June 2003, 111�/32. 46 Patterns of Prejudice democratic institutions.4 The American expatriate Margaret Fuller, however, was different. She pledged steadfast support to the European revolutions, especially the upheaval in Rome, where, astonishingly, in 1849 the people briefly drove the Pope from the Vatican and established a secular republic. Fuller witnessed these events and wrote about them extensively as a journalist for the New York Tribune ; she effectively became America’s first war correspondent. In Italy she also became a radical republican, offering what would prove to be a prophetic voice to a United States grappling with the forces of racism and gender prejudice to maintain its own republican institutions. As a study of the experience and perspective of an American intellectual witnessing foreign revolutions at first hand, this article integrates the insights of the new cultural and gender history with traditional diplomatic history.5 It discusses four subjects concerning Margaret Fuller, the 1848 revolutions and US foreign relations. First, it assesses the responses of Americans*/ordinary citizens, like Margaret Fuller, and also diplomatic personnel stationed in Europe*/to European popular upheavals. Second, it describes Fuller’s reaction to the European revolutions, in particular the overthrow of the Vatican’s political authority; this will locate Fuller as an American intellectual as well as suggest American prejudices about foreign revolutions. Third, it shows how Fuller compared Italians’ struggles for representative government with the struggles of marginalized Americans, namely women and African Americans, for full citizenship. Finally, it suggests that Fuller’s experience of transatlantic conflict in the mid- nineteenth century provides perspective on the difficulties of more recent American attempts to exercise democratic global leadership. When Fuller left New York City in August 1846 and headed for Europe it was the second resettlement of her life, following her earlier move from school teaching and magazine editing in Boston to New York journalism in 1844.6 Almost anyone who read the Tribune , whose editor Horace Greeley had hired Fuller as the newspaper’s literary critic in 1844, considered Fuller either a visionary or a flake. She was an intellectual and a feminist, and wrote not only book reviews for the Tribune but also columns illuminating the unfairness she saw in not being a white male in mid-century America. 4 Timothy Roberts and Daniel Howe, ‘The United States and the revolutions of 1848’, in R. J. W. Evans and Hartmut Pogge von Strandmann (eds), The Revolutions in Europe 1848�/1849: From Reform to Reaction (New York: Oxford University Press 2000), 157�/80. 5 Eric Foner (ed.), The New American History, rev. edn (Philadelphia: Temple University Press 1997), 181�/202, 375�/94. Other works embracing a gendered analysis of US foreign relations are Andrew Rotter, Comrades at Odds: The United States and India, 1947�/1964 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press 2000), and Kristin Hoganson, Fighting for American Manhood: How Gender Politics Provoked the Spanish-American and Philippine-American Wars (New Haven: Yale University Press 1998). 6 Charles Capper, Margaret Fuller: An American Romantic Life: The Private Years (New York: Oxford University Press 1992). TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 47 Nathaniel Hawthorne, who hated her, said Fuller lacked ‘the charms of womanhood’.7 Fortunately, such criticisms, at the time, endeared Fuller to Greeley, a leading advocate of reform causes, including government protection of workers’ rights, women’s rights, free land distribution in the American West and, ultimately most explosively, anti-slavery. Beyond its editor’s liberal political agenda, however, the Tribune was also innovative, inexpensive and well written. Such attributes, along with its publication in New York City, made it the most widely read newspaper in the United States in its day. Fuller ’s opinions and arguments thus potentially enjoyed a wide readership. Aware of her surprisingly important status, Fuller in Europe wrote prophetically: ‘I write not to Americans, but to America.’8 Although it was not an accident that Margaret Fuller was in Europe during the 1848 revolutions, she had not crossed the Atlantic specifically to cover the revolutions for the Tribune . The reasons for her journey abroad, at least at the outset, were those of a typical young, single, American intellectual of the day.9 Fuller often criticized American provincialism, and she worked hard to differentiate herself from her less erudite compatriots. Indeed, many who met her found Fuller arrogant. She was steeped in European literature, and had mastered the Greek, Latin and German languages. Her book, Woman in the Nineteenth Century, which became a manifesto for the early feminist movement,10 reflected her enormous knowledge of European literature and philosophy. Thus, Fuller’s European trip, as she anticipated it, would bring her not to a political hotbed, but to her intellectual home: indeed, when she first saw the Italian shore she exclaimed: ‘I have at last found my Italy’ (emphasis in the original).11 European revolution and American exceptionalism Fuller’s joy at arriving in Italy in the winter of 1847 was shared by many American tourists and expatriates, especially literary women.12 Rome, Fuller’s destination, was home to a fully-fledged American colony, mainly artists and students. In the mid-nineteenth century most Americans came to 7 Nathaniel Hawthorne, The Portable Hawthorne , ed. Malcolm Cowley (New York: Viking Press 1948), 594. 8 Reynolds, European Revolutions and the American Literary Renaissance , 81. 9 William Stowe, Going Abroad: European Travel in Nineteenth-century American Culture (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 1994). 10 Sandra Gustafson, ‘Choosing a medium: Margaret Fuller and the forms of sentiment’, American Quarterly, vol. 47, March 1995, 34�/65. 11 Margaret Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 29 May 1847, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’: Dispatches from Europe, 1846�/1850 , ed. Larry Reynolds and Susan Belasco Smith (New Haven: Yale University Press 1991), 129. 12 Helen Barolini, ‘The Italian side of Emily Dickinson’, Virginia Quarterly Review, vol. 70, Summer 1994, 461�/79. 48 Patterns of Prejudice Italy, and Europe generally, to witness the grand accumulations of Europe’s traditional past, not the politics of its present.13 Abroad they customarily perceived the difference, as one scholar put it, between ‘a naı̈ve vigorous America and a polished, enervating Europe’.14 The United States, many Americans thought, was characterized by progressive change; Europe was not. Therefore, in 1848, when American expatriates witnessed at first hand Europeans struggling against conservative monarchical or imperial authority, many, though initially enthralled, quickly became squeamish and disturbed. This was true despite, in some cases, European groups attempting to establish republican governments and/or democratic political institutions. To be sure, some Americans in Europe sympathized with the revolution- aries. The American colony in Paris organized a celebratory parade for the new French republic.15 The US minister to the monarchy of Prussia prematurely extended official recognition to the revolutionary Federal Government of Germany, even before Germans of the various states at the time had declared that such a regime existed.16 And Irish-Americans snuck into Ireland to assist an Irish uprising against British rule.17 Similarly, initially, ordinary Americans back home were enthusiastic about revolutionary Europe. A so-called Great Demonstration took place in New York City in April 1848, where orators delivered speeches, recited poetry and sang songs in English, German, Italian, French and Polish. One speaker emphasized the significance that the French revolution of 1848 had broken out on 22 February, George Washington’s birthday. All demonstrators, it was reported, sang the Marseillaise . Elsewhere the French tricolour hat adorned fashionable citizens in the frontier town of Madison, Wisconsin, while each citizen of Little Rock, Arkansas pledged to give ten cents a month to the cause of European liberty until it could be achieved. Towns and counties in Arkansas, Indiana, Iowa, Mississippi, Ohio, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin named or renamed themselves after the romantic European revolutionaries Alphonse de Lamartine and Lajos Kossuth.18 13 A. William Salomone, ‘The nineteenth-century discovery of Italy: an essay in American cultural history’, American Historical Review, vol. 73, June 1968, 1359�/91. 14 Ernest Earnest, Expatriates and Patriots: American Artists, Scholars, and Writers in Europe (Durham, NC: Duke University Press 1968), 5. 15 New York Tribune , 29 March 1848. 16 May, Contemporary American Opinion of the Mid-century Revolutions in Central Europe , 26. 17 John Belchem, ‘Nationalism, republicanism, and exile: Irish emigrants and the revolutions of 1848’, Past and Present , vol. 146, February 1995, 103�/35. 18 New York Tribune , 4 April 1848; Wisconsin Argus (Madison, WI), 30 May 1848; The Liberator (Boston), 7 December 1849; Robert Gale, Cultural Encyclopedia of the 1850s in America (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press 1993), 222; Alphabetical List of Towns and Counties [taken from the 1880 United States Census] (Alamo, CA: The Gold Bug 1970); Henry Gannett, American Names (Washington, D.C.: Public Affairs Press 1947). TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 49 But American enthusiasm vanished with the onset of the counter- revolutions of 1849�/50: the 1848 revolutions in the short term changed very little. Of course, revolutions cannot be supported from afar if they do not exist at home. On the other hand, 1848 was hardly as violent or bloody as France in 1791 or Russia in 1917. Rather, Americans became uncomfortable in witnessing a Europe that was dynamic, not static, even to the point of questioning the wisdom of such allegedly American political practices as ‘republicanism’ and ‘democracy’ should they be adopted by supposedly unqualified others. Such a reaction characterized American attitudes both abroad and at home. For example, shortly after the overthrow of the French monarchy in February 1848, Thomas Appleton, a Boston painter, visited the legislative national assembly in Paris, busy with organizing the affairs of the new republic. Appleton remarked: ‘Of all living creatures so far as temperament goes and the character of race, they are the least fitted for self-government.’19 Appleton’s racial perspective towards French revolu- tionary ineptitude was echoed elsewhere among American expatriates. Upon observing Slavic rebels organizing to fight for independence from the Habsburg empire, Elizabeth Stiles, the wife of the US chargé d’affaires to Austria, complained: ‘How unfit [these] people are for the changes taking place. . . . Too much equality is worse than too little. I am daily becoming less a republican.’20 Similarly, a US agent, A. Dudley Mann, sent to Hungary by President Zachary Taylor to determine whether the Hungarian uprising against Austria warranted US recognition, initially wrote back to Washington: ‘I shall desire no more boundless joy than to report, ‘‘Hungary has established her independence.’’’ A few months later, with Hungary’s uprising crushed by Austrian and Russian forces, Mann was still ebullient, but for a different reason. With astonishing irony he boasted that US officials were compelled ‘by reason, instead of passion’, and toasted the US Secretary of State for demonstrating that Americans never ‘lose sight of our true duty by becoming anarchists, monarchists, disunionists, false philanthropists, social- ists, or communists’.21 Americans’ judgements of Italians were especially harsh. The US minister to the Kingdom of Sardinia felt that ‘moderation, the greatest of political virtues, is . . . a crime in the Italian mind’, while, after the Sicilian people had declared independence from the King of Naples and 19 Letter from Thomas Appleton to Nathan Appleton, 10 May 1848: Appleton Family Papers, Massachusetts Historical Society, Boston, Massachusetts. 20 Letter from Elizabeth Stiles to Catherine MacKay, 2 July 1848: MacKay and Stiles Family Papers, Southern Historical Collection, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, NC. 21 Letters from A. Dudley Mann to John Clayton, 13 June, 27, 9 September 1849, document no. 215 and no. 279, in US Congress, Senate Documents, 61st Congress, 2d Session, United States Congressional Serial Set (Washington, D.C.: US Government Printing Office 1979). 50 Patterns of Prejudice proclaimed a republic, the local US chargé d’affaires regretted, as ‘a citizen of the United States that a better development of Democracy ha[d] not taken place’.22 These various critiques were as much the product of provincial American revolutionary ideology as they were assessments of European political and social circumstances. Illustrating this retrenchment at home, American intellectuals at mid- century considered the reasons for the differences between a turbulent Europe and a halcyon America. The Harvard historian George Bancroft reflected on the European revolutions implicitly in his description of the American Revolution, which appeared in 1852: For Europe, the crisis foreboded the struggles of generations. . . . In the impending chaos of states, the ancient forms of society, after convulsive agonies, were doomed to be broken in pieces. . . . In America, the influences of time were molded by the creative force of reason, sentiment and nature. Its political edifice rose in lovely proportions, as if to melodies of the lyre. Peacefully and without crime . . . the American Revolution . . . was most radical in its character, yet achieved with such benign tranquility, that even conservatism hesitated to censure.23 Others also praised American revolutionary exceptionalism. The Virginia jurist Beverly Tucker distinguished between old (Anglo-Saxon) revolutions, including the American independence movement that sought ‘to vindicate the rights of property’, and new (continental) ones that ‘assail[ed]’ such rights. The French people were ‘slow to understand’ that the only justifiable upheavals were those ensuring that the government protected existing rights. Meanwhile, Archbishop John Hughes in New York City castigated European revolutionaries’ exhibition of an ‘intemperate and untimely zeal for freedom’, different from Americans’ experience because the latter ’s independence did not ‘turn upon the spontaneous whim of the people to overthrow one form of government in order to substitute another’. Instead, the American Revolution had effected political change by vindicating the deliberations of ‘a fair majority of the reasoning part of the community’. On account of its alleged gentleness the American Revolution ‘[shared] but few grounds with the revolutions in Europe’. Hughes envisioned revolutions as gradual and logical affairs; the United States had passed the test in the past, and therefore its present was virtuous. But a Europe experiencing revolu- tionary difficulties was corrupt.24 22 Howard Marraro, ‘Unpublished American documents on the Roman Republic of 1849’, Catholic Historical Review, vol. 28, January 1943, 455�/64 (460); Howard Marraro (ed.), Diplomatic Relations between the United States and the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies , 2 vols (New York: S. F. Vanni 1951�/2), i.670. 23 George Bancroft, History of the United States , quoted in Jack Greene (ed.), The Ambiguity of the American Revolution (New York: Harper and Row 1968), 49, 50, 54. 24 John Hughes, The Church and the World. A Lecture (New York: E. Dunigan and Brother 1850), 8, 25, 28�/9. TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 51 Meanwhile, however, from the ramparts of Rome, Fuller continued to write positively of radical European politics, attempting to dispel American cynicism. She supported the Italian cause for several reasons. She tended to see the Italian people in gendered terms, remarking how ‘the habits of the Romans are so domestic’ and referring to Italy as ‘the Mother of Nations’.25 When a nephew of Napoleon Bonaparte, Louis Napoleon, elected president of France late in 1848, sent the French army against Rome to restore the Pope to his Vatican authority, Fuller focused on the French general Charles Oudinot, depicting his troops’ assault as the treachery of a rapist: ‘Rome will not trust him within her walls. . . . Cowardly man! He knows now that he comes upon a city which wishes to receive him only as a friend, and he cries, ‘‘With my cannon*/with my bombs, I will compel you to let me betray you.’’’26 Like women in the United States, Italians for Fuller possessed a genius of residual intellect and spirit, though, at the time, traditional authority stifled that genius. Fuller saw in the situation in Rome a metaphor for problems she sensed bedeviling the United States. She took up the Italian revolutionary cause not only in defence of Rome, but also to call for American reform. Revolution abroad and abolition at home Though the markers were not obvious at the time, the United States that Fuller had left behind in the 1840s was beginning to fall apart. In 1846, the same year Fuller left for Europe, US forces invaded Mexico and, in two years, successfully occupied Mexico City and negotiated with the Mexican government for the US annexation of the territories of New Mexico and California. Many Americans rejoiced at the victory, and some even viewed success against Mexico as a springboard for similar action against European monarchies. Senator Lewis Cass of Michigan, for example, led the pro-war movement in Congress, proclaiming his belief in an ‘unlimited power of [American] expansion’. Regarding revolutionary Europe, Cass advocated severing diplomatic relations with regimes like the Habsburg empire that resisted American-style popular sovereignty, allegedly vindicated in the war with Mexico.27 But American expansion and American slavery soon collided, and the question of whether the new western lands would be open to slavery would 25 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 4 May 1848, and Fuller, ‘Undaunted Rome’, New York Tribune , 5 June 1849, both in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 213, 274. 26 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Daily Tribune , 23 July 1849, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 298. 27 Quoted in Willard Carl Klunder, Lewis Cass and the Politics of Moderation (Kent, OH: Kent State University Press 1996), 199. 52 Patterns of Prejudice later become a principal cause of the Civil War.28 Some Americans sensed the danger: the transcendentalist Ralph Waldo Emerson predicted in 1846 that ‘Mexico will poison us’.29 Many others became convinced that the United States did not need radical political change of the kind that the Europeans in 1848 tried, and failed, to realize. For example, in 1848 President James Polk interpreted a Europe in upheaval as confirmation of American peacefulness, again a bequest of the American Revolution, declaring: ‘While the people of other countries struggle to establish free institutions under which man may govern himself, we [Americans] are in actual enjoyment of them*/a rich inheritance from our fathers.’30 Americans were able to maintain the fruits of revolutionary upheaval; Europeans, as confirmed by their futile struggles for representative government in 1848�/9, were not. Yet the failed 1848 revolu- tions had the effect in the United States of helping to persuade Americans that slavery, because it was an institution peculiar to the Americas, was not an issue requiring drastic or international measures. European efforts to accomplish dramatic political reform provided no model for Americans, many of whom believed their country to be exceptional. They therefore wrote off not only the prospects for mid-nineteenth-century European democracy but also, with more tragic consequences that would soon emerge, America’s need to learn a lesson from allegedly benighted Europeans struggling for democratic reform. Meanwhile, Margaret Fuller’s words and actions in Rome signalled her radicalization. In her New York Tribune columns she praised the formation of Italian citizen militias to ward off Habsburg authority. Perhaps betraying her American background, she observed that these militia units were crucial for republican progress. She castigated Pope Pius IX for his refusal to help the Italian liberation movement against Austria. When Romans lynched the Pope’s chief minister, Fuller applauded the assassination in her newspaper column, implicitly evoking Thomas Jefferson’s infamous lusty words: ‘The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants.’31 As invading French troops neared Rome Fuller urged her fellow citizens to supply cannons to help defend the city. She proposed calling the cannons patriotic American names, like ‘America’, ‘Columbo’ 28 David Potter, The Impending Crisis, 1848�/1861 (New York: Harper and Row 1976); Michael Morrison, Slavery and the American West: The Eclipse of Manifest Destiny and the Coming of the Civil War (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press 1997). 29 James McPherson, Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era (New York: Oxford University Press 1988), 51. 30 James Daniel Richardson (ed.), Compilation of the Messages and Papers of the Presidents , 20 vols (New York: Bureau of National Literature and Art 1927), vi.2479. 31 Thomas Jefferson, Papers of Thomas Jefferson , ed. Julian Boyd et al. , 32 vols (to date) (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press 1950�/ ), xii.356. TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 53 and ‘Washington’.32 Fuller envisioned Italians fulfilling the American revolutionary genius, not sabotaging it. Beyond her newspaper writing, Fuller also took charge of a field hospital administering care to fallen soldiers defending Rome against French occupation forces. Recoiling from the carnage there she cried: ‘I found myself inferior in courage to the occasion. . . . To sympathize with the poor mothers who had nursed these men, only to see them all lopped and gashed. . . . I forgot the great ideas.’33 Such an admission shows the difference between Fuller’s experience in Rome and that of the typical American abroad. As one scholar has written, young well-to-do Americans typically crossed the Atlantic eager to gain ‘authoritative’ cultural enrich- ment, and thus acquire a ‘subjugating gaze’, an ‘elevat[ion] to the position of the authoritative knower’.34 Fuller ‘forgot the great ideas’; she literally rejected a search for authority and elevation in her vicarious experience among Italians demanding recognition against the odds. In her radicaliza- tion Margaret Fuller not only differed from her compatriots in her sympathy for radical change in Europe. She also moved from intellectual ‘knower’ to vigilante apologist, republican mother and bloodstained partisan. But, in becoming a revolutionary partisan, Fuller emphasized the latent similarities between conditions in turbulent Europe and the allegedly peaceful United States. In dispatches to the Tribune in early 1848, Fuller began to link the Italian liberation movement with abolition in America. Before her European departure, Fuller had shied away from the movement to abolish slavery, on the grounds that it was too distant from her passionate commitment to bring about a changed perception of women.35 Other reformers saw this as snobbery. The British writer Harriet Martineau, for example, fumed: ‘while Fuller cultivated female independence, liberties of the [American] republic [were] running out.’36 But in Rome Fuller exclaimed: ‘How it pleases me here to think of the Abolitionists! [Their cause is] worth living and dying for[,] to free a great nation from such a threatening plague.’37 This is a revealing statement. Fuller’s perception of a feminized martyrdom in Italy prodded her to see American slavery and European despotism as emanating from the same system of transatlantic oppression: for her, patriarchal power, not liberal democracy, knitted the Atlantic world together. Anti-slavery and feminism therefore were not 32 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 27 November 1847, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 160�/1. 33 Margaret Fuller, Letters of Margaret Fuller, ed, Robert Hudspeth, 6 vols (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press 1983�/94), v.258. 34 Stowe, Going Abroad , 48. 35 Francis Kearns, ‘Margaret Fuller and the abolition movement’, Journal of the History of Ideas , vol. 25, January�/March 1964, 120�/7. 36 Von Mehren, Minerva and the Muse , 94, 118. 37 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 1 January 1848, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 166. 54 Patterns of Prejudice mutually exclusive causes but twin forms of resistance to a transatlantic evil. Fuller decided that, in their evocations of tranquil democracy, apologists for American exceptionalism were arrogant and mistaken. Thus engaged, Fuller did her best to impugn skepticism about both Italian independence and the liberation of American slaves. In the Tribune she described her encounter with an American who doubted the legitimacy of the Roman republic because Romans, as he put it, ‘were not like our people’ (emphasis in original).38 Fuller found such smug American travellers repugnant, for ‘they talk about the degenerate state of Italy as they do about that of our slaves at home. They affirm that, because men are degraded by bad institutions, they are not fit for better.’39 For many Americans, it was dangerous for ‘degenerate’ peoples, abroad or within the United States, to consider revolution. The majority of Americans, as Protestants, held Italians in particular suspicion on account of their Catholicism. Fuller’s compatriot, the Presbyterian philanthropist Theodore Dwight, for example, published an account of the Roman republic that could only account for the Romans’ establishment of a secular republic by their apparent conversion to Protestantism!40 Similarly, many white Americans shared Thomas Jefferson’s reluctant view that ‘blacks . . . are inferior to the whites in the endowments both of body and mind’, and therefore incapable ‘in the faculties of reason’ assumed to be essential to independence of mind and civic responsibility.41 In Fuller ’s day only the most radical of white abolitionists sought complete racial equality in the United States.42 Fuller shared the anti-Catholicism of some Americans, writing ‘how any one can remain a Catholic*/I mean who has ever been aroused to think . . . I cannot conceive’ and ‘the revolution in Italy is now radical, nor can it stop till Italy become independent and united as a republic. Protestant she 38 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 4 April 1849, in ibid., 257. 39 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 27 November 1847, in ibid., 159. 40 Mark Noll, A History of Christianity in the United States and Canada (Grand Rapids, MI: W. B. Eerdmans 1992), 143�/245; Theodore Dwight, The Roman Republic of 1849: With Accounts of the Inquisition, and the Siege of Rome (New York: R. Van Dien 1851), 16, 34, 41, 237. 41 Thomas Jefferson, Notes on the State of Virginia (1781�/2), 269�/70, available on the online database Electronic Text Center, University of Virginia Library, at http:// etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/JefVirg.html (viewed 25 October 2005). See also George Fredrickson, The Black Image in the White Mind: The Debate on Afro- American Character and Destiny, 1817�/1914 (Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press 1971), 1�/164; James Kettner, The Development of American Citizenship, 1608�/1870 (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press 1978), 300�/33; and Rogers Smith, Civic Ideals: Conflicting Visions of Citizenship in US History (New Haven: Yale University Press 1997), 165�/271. 42 James Brewer Stewart, Holy Warriors: The Abolitionists and American Slavery [1976] (New York: Hill and Wang 1996), 127�/49. TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 55 already is.’43 But she did not share their racial prejudice. She praised Frederick Douglass’s autobiography as ‘an excellent piece of writing, and on that score to be prized as a specimen of the powers of the Black Race, which Prejudice persists in disputing’, and compared racial disenfranchisement to superstitious farmers refusing to plant butternuts because of their black shell while relying only on rotten walnuts because of their lighter colour.44 Likewise she did not believe that Italians’ capacity for revolutionary virtue was fatally flawed. Decrying American newspapers’ reliance on the reports from Italy of the arch-conservative Times of London, ‘a paper . . . violently opposed to the cause of freedom’, she recalled the irony of a line from a schoolbook: ‘Ay, down to the dust with them, slaves as they are.’45 For her, Italians had proven their right to freedom simply by offering revolutionary resistance against Habsburg and Bourbon authorities. Similar to the radical New Left attitude of the 1960s, Fuller believed that ‘actions were . . . the guarantees and preconditions of ideas’: revolutionary behaviour itself was redemptive, forming national character, not merely reflecting it.46 The United States had once been a young republic and, against the odds, had initiated bold revolutionary action. In Fuller ’s view, her homeland needed to return to its radical roots. Many American abolitionists, who saw the ending of slavery as the final act of the American Revolution, shared such a view.47 As such, by the 1850s, they would openly encourage violence against tyrannical American slave owners and even the US government.48 Fuller never became an active abolitionist, though she might have found her way to an abolitionist meeting if she had ever returned to the United States. But the logic of her thought was that American slaves, should they, like Italian patriots, arise and accomplish a dramatic political act*/an uprising 43 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 13 March 1848 and 23 June 1849, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 205 and 278. 44 Margaret Fuller, ‘Narrative of the life of Frederick Douglass, an American slave’ and ‘What fits a man to be a voter? Is it to be white within, or white without?’, in Margaret Fuller’s New York Journalism , ed. Catherine Mitchell (Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press 1995), 136�/8 (136) and 147�/50. 45 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 24 July 1849, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 294. 46 Dominick Cavallo, A Fiction of the Past: The Sixties in American History (New York: St Martin’s Press 1999), 189�/213; Todd Gitlin, The Sixties: Years of Hope, Days of Rage , rev. edn (New York: Bantam 1993), 81�/97, 127�/9, 244�/6, 285�/8 (84); Robert Scott and Donald Smith, ‘Rhetoric of confrontation’, Journal of Speech , vol. 55, February 1969, 1�/8. 47 Daniel McInerney, Fortunate Heirs of Freedom: Abolition and Republican Thought (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press 1994). 48 Jane Pease and William Pease, ‘Confrontation and abolition in the 1850s’, Journal of American History, vol. 58, March 1972, 923�/37. David Reynolds, in John Brown, Abolitionist: The Man Who Killed Slavery, Sparked the Civil War, and Seeded Civil Rights (New York: Knopf 2005), recently emphasized not only Brown’s sanity but also the importance of his violence to the American anti-slavery movement. 56 Patterns of Prejudice whose objective was not simply violence but liberation*/would thereby prove themselves worthy of republican citizenship. Likewise, for Fuller, the redemption of the United States could be achieved by a single noble act, for example, by providing diplomatic and/or military assistance to the Roman republic. She called for US diplomatic recognition of the Roman republic, pointing out that ‘the only dignified ground for our Government, the only legitimate ground for any Republican Government, is to recognize for any nation the Government chosen by itself’.49 She wryly mused that she might ask to be appointed US minister to Rome herself, except ‘woman’s day has not come yet’.50 American revolutionary redemp- tion could also be achieved by a radical shift in domestic policy, namely, allowing African Americans and women the opportunity to prove their republican capability by acknowledging their full civil rights. By the time Fuller left Italy in May 1850 the United States had enacted none of these policies. The Civil War and the end of American exceptionalism Indeed, while she was writing to America, Fuller was growing out of touch with Americans: 1850 began a conservative decade in the United States, marked by increasing inflexibility on the issue of slavery and weakening sympathy for European democrats, especially as European refugees swelled American shores. 1850 saw the passage of the Fugitive Slave Law, which, because of its harshness, one historian termed the beginning of an ‘American 1848’.51 A few years later nativism would erupt into the Know-Nothing Party, committed to toughening citizenship requirements for immigrants. Lewis Cass, an advocate of American ‘manifest destiny’, sought the presidency in 1848 and the Democratic nomination for that office in 1852 on a platform of ‘popular sovereignty’ that called for local communities to decide whether or not to accept slavery. But, not surprisingly, in both years Americans chose candidates with less complicated attitudes to slavery and less bellicose positions in relation to a conservative Europe.52 In the winter of 1849�/50 Fuller prepared to return to the United States. She had, for the first time in her life, fallen in love with a man, a young Italian 49 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 23 June 1849, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 282. 50 Fuller, ‘Things and thoughts in Europe’, New York Tribune , 26 January 1849, in ibid., 245. 51 Michael Rogin, Subversive Genealogy: The Politics and Art of Herman Melville (New York: Knopf 1983), 102�/9. 52 John Higham, From Boundlessness to Consolidation: The Transformation of American Culture, 1848�/1860 (Ann Arbor, MI: William L. Clements Library 1969); Klunder, Lewis Cass and the Politics of Moderation , 195�/261; Morrison, Slavery and the American West , 84�/103, 133�/42. TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 57 nobleman, by whom she had given birth to a child. (Fuller probably was not married when she became a mother, adding to the scandal about her back home in New England.) While she pondered her own circumstances she continued her observations of Europe, though she turned from analysing the present to predicting the future. She did not know it at the time, but her writings now would be her last public utterances: she drowned, along with her husband and child, when the ship carrying them to America sank near the New York coast. Sounding like a prophet, she boldly asserted: ‘the next revolution will be uncompromising, [and] all forms of arbitrary lordship must be driven out.’53 Her omission of the specific location of this revolution suggests her sense that the United States was not different from Europe. Failing to implement necessary democratic reforms, the United States was likely to be subject to the troubles of the ‘failed’ Old World. In this regard, Fuller would be vindicated in 1861 when the Civil War erupted. A violent revolution dwarfing the scenes in Europe in 1848�/9, the Civil War under- mined the myth that Americans, left to themselves, would always be capable of stable democratic success and leadership. Yet, surprisingly, given her criticisms of American conservatism, Fuller’s last written words anticipated a new, longstanding link between the two sides of the northern Atlantic, one that would supersede the crusty ties of patriarchy. Earlier she had declared, ‘I am no bigoted Republican’, but now predicted: ‘for what has happened in these sad days, the entirety of Europe, at the end of this century, will be under [a] Republican form of Govern- ment’.54 In this prophecy Fuller at once emphasized the virtues of possible global republicanism and rejected the need for such a transformation to depend exclusively on an ‘American-centric’ model. During Fuller’s last days and after her death her American associates were horrified at her radical turn. The poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, who saw Fuller in Italy, wrote home that Fuller had become ‘one of the out & out reds ’ (emphasis in the original).55 Her connection with the Tribune was severed, probably because rumours of her ‘free love’ had been circulating in New York.56 The compilers of Fuller’s memoirs*/Ralph Waldo Emerson, among others*/caught between honouring their friendship with her and disavow- ing her political opinions, were strangely silent about her final commentaries from Europe.57 Opinion of Fuller among ordinary Americans near the time of her death is suggested by a letter written by a woman named Lucy Henry 53 Fuller, ‘Italy’, New York Tribune , 13 February 1850, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 321. 54 Fuller, Letters , v.73; Fuller, ‘Italy’, New York Tribune , 6 October 1849, in ‘These Sad But Glorious Days’ , 313. 55 Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, ed. Frederic Kenyon, 2 vols (New York: Macmillan 1898), i.428. 56 Joseph Jay Deiss, The Roman Years of Margaret Fuller (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell 1969), 302�/3. 57 Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Henry Channing and James Freeman Clarke (eds), Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli , 2 vols (Boston: Phillips Sampson 1852). 58 Patterns of Prejudice in the rural district of Charlotte County, Virginia. Henry was writing to John Bigelow, the editor of the New York Evening Post , a rival of the Tribune , to ask for subscription information. She explained that her interest in the Evening Post began once she realized that ‘[Horace] Greeley is a socialist; [and]. . . . Miss [Margaret] Fuller’s papers are the most heinous articles I ever read’.58 Henry’s comment illustrates both Fuller’s controversial status and her wide, if scandalized, readership at the end of her life. More generally, though, these frosty opinions suggest a larger phenomenon of anti-radicalism among Americans. At the mid-nineteenth century, in effect, the United States experienced a mild version of what in the twentieth century would be known as ‘red scares’. Margaret Fuller secured her radical status in Europe not because she exchanged American patriotism for European socialism, as some scholars have argued,59 but because in Europe she became, too much so for the comfort of some, a clarion call for a redeemed American republicanism, matching its practice of pluralism and equality to its rhetoric.60 Before coming to Italy Fuller travelled to France, where she met the French feminist and novelist George Sand. Fuller was in awe of Sand for her rejection of gender norms and political propriety. Sand wore men’s attire, cohabitated with the composer Frederic Chopin and, during the French revolution of 1848, wrote inspirational literature and acted as a political consultant to the new government in Paris. Fuller wrote that George Sand was ‘a boon precious and prized, both as a warning and a leader, for which none there can be ungrateful’.61 Margaret Fuller ’s radicalization and premature death meant, tragically, that she would be recognized as neither a boon nor a warning by her American homeland, until it was too late. Moreover, Fuller’s frustration with her compatriots’ skepticism of Euro- peans’ attempts to install constitutional government resonates, for two reasons, with the ambiguities of the case made today by the United States for democracy abroad. First, recent American policymakers, if they share the prejudices of their early forebears, will have difficulty supporting other nations, even ones undertaking democratic reform, which do not clearly embrace American precepts*/toleration of evangelical Christianity, civic identity, sanctity of property, popular ratification of constitutional innova- tions*/especially if those nations show signs of corruption, violence or conflicts over ethnic, religious or tribal identities. Second, Fuller argued that the Atlantic world was more complex than imagined by many of her 58 Letter from Lucy Henry to John Bigelow, 4 May 1849: John Bigelow Papers, New York Public Library, New York. 59 Bell Gale Chevigny, Woman and the Myth: Margaret Fuller’s Life and Writings (Old Westbury, NY: Feminist Press 1976), 368�/95; Margaret Allen, ‘The political and social criticism of Margaret Fuller ’, South Atlantic Quarterly, vol. 72, Autumn 1973, 560�/73. 60 Gustafson, ‘Choosing a medium’, 36�/7, 58�/9. 61 Fuller, Letters , iv.256�/7n1. TIMOTHY M. ROBERTS 59 compatriots, one not clearly divided between liberalism on one side and authoritarianism on the other. Such a view is more troubling, yet more realistic, than a popular perspective today that bisects the world’s govern- ments into spheres of freedom and tyranny.62 Today, as in the mid- nineteenth century, many Americans have been mobilized in the belief that the outside world is alien and inferior, at the same time as attitudes towards domestic opposition grow harsher. Whether Americans can tolerate democratic change abroad, despite its eccentricities, and heed Margaret Fuller’s warnings about the risks of mistaking short-term domestic security for sustainable democratic stability, still remains to be seen. Timothy M. Roberts is Assistant Professor of United States history at Bilkent University in Ankara, and a specialist in early American foreign relations and political culture. 62 Peter Baker, ‘Bush doctrine is expected to get chilly reception’, Washington Post , 23 January 2005; ‘The odd couple’, The Economist , 3 February 2005, 45. 60 Patterns of Prejudice 
work_yebcpzklnzcfnk4u3oextblmxu	----	1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 9 0026-3079/2015/5402-009$2.50/0 American Studies, 54:2 (2015): 9-20 9 Review Essay 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X Zareena Grewal MALCOLM X: A Life of Reinven- tion. By Manning Marable. New York: Viking. 2011. B L A C K S TA R , C R E S C E N T MOON: The Muslim International and Black Freedom beyond Amer- ica. By Sohail Daulatzai. Min- neapolis: University of Minnesota Press. 2012. THE ICONOGRAPHY OF MAL- COLM X. By Graeme Abernethy. Lawrence: University Press of Kansas. 2013. REBEL MUSIC: Race, Empire, and the New Muslim Youth Culture. By Hisham Aidi. New York: Vintage Books. 2014. On February 21, 1965, Mal- colm X was assassinated by five men linked to the Nation of Islam, 10 Zareena Grewal aided by the criminal negligence, if not the direct cooperation, of the FBI and the NYPD. One can only imagine what our world might have looked like today had his brilliant career not been cut short so brutally. By November of 1965, Alex Haley’s The Autobiography of Malcolm X was published, becoming an instant bestseller and the enduring, dominant representation of Malcolm’s life and thought. Manning Marable’s Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention is a revisionist history that draws upon a rich archival record including unpublished chapters of Haley’s manuscript and early speeches from private archives. Marable success- fully upends much of the conciliatory racial narrative that Haley’s Autobiography imposes on Malcolm X, in part by excavating Haley’s own intellectual genealogy as a liberal Republican and exposing his political investment in writing the book as a cautionary tale about racial segregation. (9) Marable challenges Haley’s framing of Malcolm X as an integrationist evolving “firmly within mainstream civil rights respectability at the end of his life” (10). In fact, Haley omits and glosses over key events and achievements in the last year of Malcolm X’s life such as his international travel after the hajj trip (as well as a 1959 trip to Saudi Arabia) and his primary organization, the Organization of Afro-American Unity, material that figures centrally in Marable’s Malcolm X.1 While Marable adheres to the conventions of the genre of biography, he writes Malcolm X’s life story as an intellectual history, paying special attention to the radical internationalist strain in Malcolm X’s thought that has too often been overlooked or diluted in scholarly and popular representations. In Marable’s account, Malcolm X’s in- ternationalism is firmly grounded in his parents’ advocacy of Marcus Garvey’s gospel of racial uplift and self-mastery. Capitalist, separatist, and pan-African humanist, Garvey’s vision of a transnational politics of black liberation, Marable argues, drew on thinkers as diverse as Frederick Douglass, Andrew Carnegie, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Horatio Alger, and Benjamin Franklin (18). One of the great strengths of Marable’s work is his ability to account for the continuities, tensions, and contradictions in Malcolm X’s thought over time. Marable dem- onstrates how the religio-political influences of Garvey’s teachings shaped his views even as a young man in Harlem. While his views converged with many of the teachings of the Nation of Islam (NOI), the moral vision of the NOI resonated even more deeply for him and was ultimately more profoundly revolutionary because, Marable argues, it was more explicitly theological than Garvey’s vision (54, 89). Even once he became a Sunni Muslim, Malcolm X’s religio-political views were far more radical and revolutionary than the way they are often memorialized. For example, Marable documents how his travels abroad made Malcolm X much more critical of capitalism and its genetic relationship to rac- ism and how he became much more intrigued by the appeal of socialism to the post-colonial third world. This is despite the fact that for years Malcolm X had espoused the virtues of entrepreneurial capitalism, echoing Elijah Muhammad and his Garveyite parents. Troubled by the consistent cooptation of “one of America’s sharpest and unrelenting critics” by the same government that systematically and illegally harassed and spied on him, Marable bemoans the 1999 issuance of 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 11 a hundred million US postal stamps of Malcolm X as the completion of a long process of erasure, de-politicization, domestication and “Americanization.”2 In its press statement, the US Postal Service characterized Malcolm X as an advocate of “a more integrationist solution to racial problems” (9). In the wake of the repatriation of an archive of Malcolm X’s private papers and travel diaries at the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture in 2003 and Marable’s publication in 2011, scholars across fields such as US history, American studies, critical race and ethnic studies, political science, and Islamic studies are reconsidering the last year of Malcolm X’s life, as well as his legacy and impact over time. I count myself among a growing cohort of interdisciplinary scholars whose work extends the project of recuperating Malcolm X’s radical humanism and his global legacy, which collectively challenge the “American- ization” of Malcolm X. The diverse set of historical, ethnographic, and culture studies works examined here locate Malcolm X in broader intellectual histories and in different global imaginaries and moral geographies, from black radicals and disaffected Muslim youth to avid consumers of popular visual and musical cultures that span the globe.3 Graeme Abernethy’s fascinating The Iconography of Malcolm X blurs the distinction between cultural history and intellectual history, and while his work is far less ambitious than the others discussed below, the force of his argument benefits from his steady focus on an archive of visual representations of Malcolm X and the diverse (and global) publics that consume them. Abernethy tracks the paradoxical ways in which Malcolm X’s image can stand in for racial reconcili- ation and enduring racial conflict. Abernethy labors to recuperate the radical political thought of Malcolm X from the respectability politics and nostalgia that occludes his radical political differences with other Civil Rights leaders. Although Malcolm X dismissed Martin Luther King Jr. as “Uncle Martin” even as late as January 5, 1965, the photograph of a brief (mediated) encounter be- tween the two men smiling and shaking hands in a corridor of the US Capitol was widely celebrated after their assassinations. Abernethy skillfully analyzes the memorial function of this image and many, many others—how it reconciles the two figures more “in death than may have been possible in life” (63). He then follows the image to the Obama campaign in 2008, when it circulated with Obama’s photo-shopped face atop Malcolm X’s body. The image of their fused bodies is a sharp contrast to President Obama’s striking silence about Malcolm X, such as on the fiftieth anniversary of his assassination or in his 2009 “Muslim World Address” in Egypt. After all, Obama named Malcolm X as a major intel- lectual influence and a favorite literary figure in his memoir, penned long before he nurtured presidential ambitions (223). Abernethy helpfully divides the cultural afterlife of images of Malcolm X into three periods, each punctuated by a transformative visual text. The first pe- riod is the Civil Rights Era, beginning with the news documentary The Hate that Hate Produced (1959), which presented Malcolm X as a dangerous demagogue. Abernethy demonstrates how Malcolm X powerfully challenged this misrepre- 12 Zareena Grewal sentation throughout his life. Abernethy’s second period, Black Power, begins with the assassination and the publication of Haley’s Autobiography in 1965. Abernethy’s account of the influence of the book in shaping cultural memory, not only by narrating with words but also with its cover images, is particularly compelling. Abernethy’s third period, the era of hip hop, begins with Spike Lee’s 1992 film Malcolm X and extends to contemporary hip hop artists who inherit all of the different iconic representations of Malcolm X—remixing images, versions, and visions of the man often in surprising and inventive ways. Abernethy weaves a history of Malcolm X’s own ideas about the power of images into his own analysis of images of Malcolm X. He argues that Malcolm X not only developed his own theory of the power of the image (what he termed “the science of imagery”) but that Malcolm X must be recognized as “a practitioner of the science of imagery” (13). Abernethy documents how Malcolm X exerted various degrees of control over his image in part through his collaborations with journalists, photojournalists, and art photographers. Abernethy’s focus on Mal- colm X’s ideas about visual images expands the intellectual histories of Robert E. Terrill (Malcolm X: Inventing Radical Judgment) and Marable, who notes that long before “postmodernists wrote about ‘white privilege,’ Malcolm spoke about the destructive effects of racism upon both its victims and its promulgators” (484). Abernethy constructs a fascinating genealogy of the debts of Malcolm X’s theory of visual representation to Elijah Muhammad’s concept of tricknology, a theory of ideological inscription that also incorporates concepts from modern psychiatry, such as an inferiority complex, but applies them to the scale of races rather than individuals. Abernethy writes that the Nation of Islam, “with its logic of inversion, presented itself as an antidote to the false knowledge and images disseminated by the dominant culture” (36). Interestingly, Abernethy’s geneal- ogy of Malcolm X’s “science of imagery” also traces the ways Malcolm X was indebted to Christian thinkers, such as Saint Augustine and the visual tradition of Christian iconography, without falling into the bad analytic habit of suggesting that such influences are incongruous with his “authentic” identity as a Muslim or the iconoclastic tradition of monotheism within Islam (93). Abernethy notes that it is Malcolm X’s “religious rather than political views that suffer most at the hands of post-humous inscriptions,” and although he demonstrates how Malcolm X’s image is frequently delinked from Islam in the popular imagination during each of his three periods, we learn little about these occluded religious views from Abernethy’s text (10). Sohail Daulatzai’s brilliant monograph Black Star, Crescent Moon: The Muslim International and Black Freedom beyond America offers a powerful cultural history of black radical thought that cuts through the problematic fram- ing of Malcolm X as ultimately choosing integration over segregation, even mirroring the scrutiny that Marable directed to the scholarly domestication of Malcolm X back onto Marable’s Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention. For Malcolm X, internationalism (the global “Black Revolution”) was the political alterna- tive to integration (the “Negro Revolution”) and Cold War liberalism and so his 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 13 anti-imperialism and antiracism were co-constitutive. Malcolm X consistently argued the oppression of US blacks was a human rights (not civil rights) issue that ought to be brought before the United Nations, a prospect, Daulatzai dem- onstrates, that deeply worried officials in the US State Department and Justice Department in 1964 and 1965. Leaving the Nation of Islam allowed Malcolm X to pursue his long-standing interest in alliances and collaborations with other activists, however, Daulatzai challenges what he calls Marable’s “liberal” account of Malcolm X embracing the Civil Rights movement at the end of his life as well as his acquiescence to neo-Orientalist framings of Islamic radicalism (202). Marable, on the one hand, reads “The Ballot or the Bullet” speech as a mature acceptance of electoral politics as a means to black liberation (484). Daulatzai, on the other hand, counters that Malcolm X’s consistent skepticism about the possibilities of racial justice through elections and legislation and his language of decolonization constituted a far more radical vision. This enduring political paradigm, which Daulatzai terms “the Muslim International,” destabilizes the Cold War liberal assumptions and narrow nationalism of the Civil Rights move- ment and its legacy (xxii). It must be emphasized that “Muslim” is not a religious signifier in Daulatzai’s Muslim International, nor does it signify a break with the thought of Elijah Muhammad, a crucial distinction from the seemingly similar Afro-Arab geography of liberation posited by intellectual historian Alex Lubin, who suggests that in the last eighteen months of his life Malcolm X’s views evolved to include diverse movements such as the PLO, the Muslim Brotherhood, and socialist pan-Arabists on “a singular horizon of faith-based radicalism.”4 Daulatzai’s category of “the Muslim International” aims to capture the interlocking religio-political dimensions of Malcolm X’s ideas; although Mal- colm X popularized Islam as “the Black Man’s religion,” the significance and impact of the Muslim (third) world on black radicals cannot be understood in religious rather than political terms. Daulatzai explores what the Muslim third world has meant and can mean in black radical thought from the Cold War to the War on Terror, including but not limited to black Muslims. Of course, this begs the question of how to define black radical thought, a question Daulatzai does not address head-on but comes at indirectly and cumulatively through black artists and thinkers who challenge the conservative and liberal political status quo. The book opens with a characteristically penetrating analysis of President Obama’s 2009 inauguration in which Daulatzai demonstrates how the figures of Malcolm X and Martin Luther King Jr. were conjured as the twin poles of Black redemptive possibility, the former exorcized and the latter ossified and domesti- cated. In addition to inspiring hollow nationalist claims of post-racial triumph, Obama’s presidency gave US empire a black face. Daulatzai takes readers deeper, plumbing how “the Muslim International” allowed black radicals to challenge the orthodoxies of the Civil Rights Movement, which tied black liberation to the fate of US empire, by assimilating the logic of anti-communism in the Cold War and anti-terrorism today, to the detriment to black and brown peoples within the US and around the world. 14 Zareena Grewal In order to track the extent to which Islam and the Muslim third world cap- tured the black radical political imagination, Daulatzai guides readers through a stunning archive of films, novels, music, speeches, poetry, and music. Black Star, Crescent Moon disrupts the boundary between intellectual history and cultural history, tracing Malcolm X’s influence on the Revolutionary Action Movement and Black Power but also in the Black Arts Movement and, most compellingly, in hip hop. The scope of Daulatzai’s archive and the sensitivity of his close readings of cultural texts are powerful, however, at times one loses sight of the specificity of what the Muslim International signifies over the course of the book. Daulatzai makes a compelling case that the Muslim International operates as an “alternative racial compass that gave [and gives] new political direction for Black quests for freedom,” but the needle of the compass clearly moves in many different directions when it is in the hands of black thinkers as diverse as Yasiin Bey (formerly Mos Def), Louis Farrakhan, and Jamil Al- Amin (formerly H. Rap Brown), and the needle also points to many different Muslim places (23). Daulatzai’s strongest moments are when he shows us what particular Muslim third world geographies/movements mean to black radicals and how they are deployed in particular moments, such as his elegant analysis of the significance of the film The Battle for Algiers. That said, the significance of Algeria is not the same as Ghana, nor is Ghana’s significance the same as that of Saudi Arabia, distinctions Daulatzai knows intimately but does not always make explicit for his readers. Daulatzai’s Black Star, Crescent Moon is an urgent intervention in transnational intellectual and cultural history, however, the con- cept of “the Muslim International” loses some of its analytical efficacy over the course of his argument due to the imprecision of its usage. At times, the political category of “the Muslim International” is indistinguishable from, and seemingly interchangeable with, Daulatzai’s general references to the Muslim third world as a post-colonial geography. Hisham Aidi’s Rebel Music: Race, Empire, and the New Muslim Youth Culture is similarly invested in documenting the range of ways Malcolm X is a source of political and religious inspiration, in his case for Muslim youth worldwide. Rebel Music balances attention to the specificities of particular youth countercultures around the world and their investments in black and/or Muslim geographies with a remarkably global scope, taking readers to concerts, speeches, nightclubs, and governmental corridors across four continents. He writes: “If Islam is the unofficial religion of hip hop culture, Malcolm X is the prophet, or at the very least, the patron saint; his speeches are quoted, his dress and demeanor imitated” (234). Beginning in the South Bronx at a hip hop concert featuring French rappers Third Eye, Aidi narrates a fascinating and dizzying account of the rise of a global, (black) American dream for racial justice that travels in vari- ous forms of subversive music, mixing and transcending languages and genres, zigzagging across borders, absorbing and amplifying local sounds, and cracking the veneer of national cohesion to reveal deep political fractures in stratified societies around the world. 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 15 Foregoing chronological histories and linear narratives, Aidi proves to be an adept guide through global music scenes and Muslim youth countercultures. He expertly weaves imperial, slave, and postcolonial histories of the US, South America, Europe, the Middle East, Asia, and Africa into his narrative of encoun- ters with musicians, fans, intellectuals, and activists, with a keen eye to racial and sexual politics. The breadth of Aidi’s account of the mobilization of Muslim youth through popular music is a stunning achievement. Although clearly indebted to Paul Gilroy’s Black Atlantic, the Moorish Atlantic of Rebel Music never feels derivative; that said, the citations to research about Muslim diasporas that inform Aidi’s arguments are too spare. Malcolm X’s shadow looms large over the heads of Muslim youth bent in attentive silence to their headphones and exuberant bodies on throbbing dance-floors around the world, a fact that has not escaped the attention of religious leaders and government officials. Aidi maps the ways Malcolm X inhabits a wide range of moral geographies of radical Muslim youth worldwide. Although their readings of “Brother Malcolm” are diverse and con- flicting, Aidi insists that their engagements with Malcolm X’s thought are often serious and politically consequential. In the US, immigrant race activists from the Middle East and North Africa who are inspired by Malcolm X and committed to black liberation mobilize against state surveillance and organize campaigns to get their own box on the census, rejecting the “compulsory” whiteness an earlier generation of Arab immigrants fought to achieve (163). In Brazil, the number of mosques has quintupled since 2000, with the mass conversions of youth from the favelas who are discovering Malcolm X in the lyrics of American hip hop and searching for Moorish roots in their family trees (32). In 2011, the young Egyptians whose peaceful Dignity Revolution removed long-standing dictator Hosni Mubarak from the presidential office began reading Haley’s Autobiog- raphy in droves, making it a local bestseller (233). In France, two new radical political parties—the Natives of the Republic Party and the New Black Panther Party—draw their inspiration from Malcolm X and eschew traditional electoral politics, successfully attracting race-conscious Muslim youth from the banlieues who are disaffected with the integrationist strategies of mainline French Muslim institutions (312). Again and again, Aidi convincingly demonstrates how clumsy the logic of the War on Terror is; the presumption that politically disaffected Muslim youth must be de-radicalized depends on a narrow definition of radical as synonymous with jihadist. Aidi’s powerful intervention introduces readers to an alternative, thriving radical strain of Islamic thought that traces its roots to Malcolm X rather than the Egyptian Islamist Sayyid Qutb. The young Muslims he encounters are radical in their absolute commitment against racial injustice and neo-imperialism and Aidi meticulously catalogues their fight songs. Since the figure of Malcolm X is so thoroughly saturated with both street credibility and Islamic legitimacy for Muslim youth around the world, Muslim religious leaders from a wide range of Muslim sects and traditions compete to claim him as their own. In the US, Aidi considers, on the one hand, the writings of an older African-American Sunni integrationist who argues that if he had 16 Zareena Grewal lived longer Malcolm’s Sunni commitments would have led him to disavow his anti-state rhetoric and embrace his American identity, and, on the other hand, the speech of Malcolm X’s grandson, Malcolm Lateef Shabazz Jr., who converted to Shii Islam in Syria in 2007 and claimed his late grandfather would have done the same (235, 246). In Sudan, rival political parties identified with the Salafi movement and the Muslim Brotherhood propagate different policies and different accounts of Malcolm X’s visit to their country to win votes (247). In Yemen, Sufi preachers with global, rock-star followings proclaim Malcolm X a saint and take groups of American Muslim devotees to visit his grave in Hartsdale, New York (248). Interestingly, in order to lay claim to the post-hajj Malcolm X, Muslim leaders who aim to guide young people introduced to his ideas through hip hop must grapple with the moral status of music in Islam.5 Aidi plots the range of Islamic views on a spectrum from those Muslims who accept music and dancing without reservation to those who deem it immodest and sinful; he dubs the accept- ing (“liberal”) pole “Sufi” and the latter “Salafi.” While it generally works for the cases he describes, his schema is too crude for such a complex religious debate because Sufis sometimes hold what Aidi calls the “puritanical” Salafi position and many Salafis listen to music. What Aidi’s analysis leaves underdeveloped is the processes by which Muslim leaders awkwardly reconcile their support for unpopular governments with their invocations of Malcolm X for audiences of Muslim youth who are far more politically radical and rebellious than they are. To be sure, Muslims’ claims to Malcolm X’s legacy in service of particular religious agendas are tangential to the core argument of the book. Trained as a political scientist, Aidi’s real interest lies in the policies of states that co-opt Malcolm X’s legacy (along with Salafi Islam in the Cold War and Sufism in the War on Terror) as a counterterrorism tool, and it is the US government’s deploy- ment of soft power in the form of a hip hop “sound diplomacy” (modeled on the Cold War jazz tours) that preoccupies him. Aidi carefully dissects examples of the US government’s instrumentalization of hip hop as a de-radicalizing lure; in Tunisia, the US embassy ran a contest to find the next Malcolm X and in Ye- men the US embassy hosted a birthday celebration for Malcolm X, perhaps as an attempt to “black-wash” drone operations (234, 253). These efforts are not only geared to win the hearts and minds of politically disaffected Muslim youth in Muslim-majority countries but also the young Muslims of Europe’s ghettos. Aidi’s razor sharp analysis of these state-sponsored initiatives casts US officials’ usage of black (Muslim) history to counter Islamism in Europe as a non-violent corollary to US military campaigns in Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia and Yemen (224). Although much of his book captures the exuberant soundtrack of youth- ful, utopic dreams set in gritty neighborhoods around the world, Aidi makes a sobering conclusion: for all the energetic and high-minded political mobilization around transnational Islamic cultural formations, nation-states are still the most powerful actors shaping Islamic discourses, identities, and movements in Europe, the Middle East, and the US. 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 17 In my book, Islam is a Foreign Country: American Muslims and the Global Crisis of Authority, I also explore Malcolm X’s radical religio-political vision and contextualize it in a transnational, intellectual history of Islam in the United States.6 Like September 11, 2001, the year 1965 is a pivotal historical moment in the historiography of Islam in the US, so much so that scholars in this sub- field of US history usually invoke the year with the prefixes “pre-” or “post-” attached to it. There is no denying that 1965 is a key rupture point in the story of Islam in the US, but what kind of rupture? One generation ago, scholars writing about American Muslims were locked in cyclical debates in which 1965 figured as a fault line: religious studies scholars delineated whether African-American Muslim communities such as the Nation of Islam (the majority of black Muslims before 1965) were as authentically Islamic as Sunnis (who became the majority of black Muslims after 1965, many inspired by Malcolm X’s final conversion) and social scientists determined how to tell the story of Muslim migration to the US in terms of intrusive, aquatic metaphors like “waves,” “flows” or “floods.”7 1965 is also significant to the history of American Islam because of the passing of the Immigration Act, a direct outcome of the Civil Rights Act, which trig- gered the immigration of large numbers of Muslims primarily from the Middle East and South Asia. In the context of the Cold War, this generation of highly educated and upwardly mobile immigrants was attractive to the US government as a way to keep ahead of the USSR in technical and scientific fields. These Cold War Muslim immigrants radically transformed the demographic picture of US mosques and some of the pan-Islamists among them reshaped the terms of religious authority and the political priorities of American Muslim institutions: shifting focus from domestic social justice issues toward unjust US foreign policy in Muslim-majority countries and memorializing the post-Mecca Malcolm X as a depoliticized, colorblind universalist.8 Thus, 1965 marks several periods of the history of Islam in the US—as a demographic turning point, as the end of Malcolm X’s charismatic and global leadership, and as the beginning in a shift in American Muslim religious and political cultures. However, historical accounts of Islam in the twentieth-century US too often treat 1965 both as a temporal and analytical marker. In such cases, 1965 is used to separate and oversimplify the stories of (separatist) Black Muslims from (integrationist) Immigrant Muslims and (black) Heterodox Islam from (immigrant) Orthodox Islam, as well as (transient/work- ing class) urban immigrants from (middle class) suburban immigrants.9 These historical narratives work in tandem with Haley’s erasures and misrepresentations in the Autobiography and scholars routinely treat the last year of Malcolm X’s life (after his hajj pilgrimage) as a complete break from his thought and work in the Nation of Islam, misrepresenting the conversion to Sunni Islam as sudden rather than gradual, as racial as well as theological.10 In order to challenge the narrative that his experience in Mecca transformed Malcolm X from a superficially religious black nationalist to a “real” Muslim and a color-blind universalist, Islam is a Foreign Country foregrounds the radi- cal and transnational continuities in Malcolm X’s thought about race and the 18 Zareena Grewal fight for racial justice before and after the hajj. I explore Malcolm X’s enduring political ambivalence toward the US and I argue his agitation for political rights and recognition must be understood as a form of Islamic transnational counter- citizenship. In that context, his invocations of Muslim lands and people are funda- mental challenges to the idea of the nation-state. An important personal religious experience, the hajj also created the space for Malcolm X to further develop his own transnational moral geography, and he adopted W. E. B. Du Bois’ term “the Dark World.” The “Dark World” was both metaphor and method for his vision of achieving racial justice in global, rather than national, terms. Malcolm X’s moral geography of “the Dark World” drew from and amended the transnational moral geography of Elijah Muhammad, whose utopic Muslim Afro-Asia offered an ethical alternative to the racist dystopia of the US. In contrast, Malcolm X did not idealize postcolonial Muslim majority societies nor did he foreclose the possibility of political redemption for the US.11 In addition to the influence of the cosmology of the Nation of Islam, Malcolm X’s moral geography of “the Dark World” was also inspired by, but not limited to, the Islamic concept of the umma, the “global community of Muslim locals, both majorities and minorities, who belong to the places where they live and who, in their totality, exemplify the universality of Islam.”12 As his private letters make clear, Malcolm X was keenly aware of how Arab Muslim leaders could depoliticize the transnational concept of the umma and delink it from the global fight against white supremacy, which is why he avoided becoming involved in the heated religious debates among Muslims that he observed during his time in the Middle East. My intel- lectual history of Malcolm X destabilizes terms such as “political Islam” and the “Muslim world” which map the Middle East as Islam’s authentic core. Malcolm X re-maps the Muslim world to include American ghettos and his vision for “the Dark World” was no less political and no less Islamic than that of the members of the Muslim Brotherhood he encountered in Egypt. De-territorializing the history and historiography of American Islam requires us to account for how global flows of people, capital, ideas, practices, and ob- jects have shaped communities on both sides of the Atlantic and Islam itself in all its diverse, continuous, and discontinuous forms. Islam is a Foreign Country breaks with the persistent territorial bias that maps “true” Islam to distant, east- ern lands and brown (rather than black) bodies. Furthermore, my focus on the moral geographies in the religious imagination of American Muslims allows me to sidestep the sectarian, racial, and class divisions that obscure important continuities across diverse American Muslim communities and time periods. Such a transnational framing de-naturalizes the nation-state, modernity’s most powerful geographic imaginary, and destabilizes the loaded questions of Ameri- canization that have dominated the sub-field of Islam in the United States.13 By foregrounding the American Muslim practice of traveling abroad for religious knowledge, Malcolm X fits in two enduring traditions of travel: American seekers and Islamic pedagogical trips (rihla). Many American Muslim leaders, before and after Malcolm X, linked their claims to religious authority to their travels to 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 19 Muslim lands, whether real or imagined, and the (de-colonial) recovery of lost (sacred, powerful) knowledge. Seeing Malcolm X not only as a Muslim leader and activist but also as an American Muslim seeker allows us to better understand how he drew on geographic metaphors that were simultaneously religious and political in order to talk about race, citizenship, justice, belonging, and what it means to be human.14 In other words, Malcolm X’s religious studies and travels were a religio-political means to a religio-political end. As a work of historical ethnography situated between American studies and Islamic studies, my book writes Malcolm X as a religious intellectual into the history of global Islam and it tracks how he figures in contemporary transna- tional intellectual networks that link US mosques to the intellectual centers in the Middle East. Over the course of interviewing more than a hundred American Muslim seekers in Syria, Jordan, and Egypt—youth from diverse ethnic, racial, and socio-economic backgrounds with a shared radical, transnational politics—I found that Haley’s Autobiography was the text most frequently credited with sparking their Islamic reawakening. (Unsurprisingly, most had come of age in the late nineties in the wake of Spike Lee’s biopic Malcolm X, which popular- ized Haley’s Autobiography for a new generation.) In addition to documenting the ways Haley’s Autobiography operates as a religious text for American Muslims ethnographically, I track the ways the (often de-politicized) figure of Malcolm X-as-seeker figures in the American Muslim imagination in general and in these transnational pedagogical networks in particular. The vignette of a young African-American man memorizing an Arabic dictionary page by page as part of his religious studies in Cairo, consciously replicating the autodidactic habits of Malcolm in prison and demonstrates the imaginative ways American Muslim youth memorialize Malcolm X. Such an act of memorization must be understood not only as a pedagogical and religious ritual, but also as a profoundly political act.15 Whether in my own work or in that of Marable, Abernethy, Daulatzai, and Aidi, the vibrancy of debates over what Malcolm X would have lived to do is palpable as is the scholarly significance of his thought and its generative quali- ties since his brutal murder in 1965. One of the legacies of the cultural turn in the humanities is a pervasive preference for the history of movements, prac- tices, habits, and affects over the history of ideas, often rooted in an anti-elitist impulse. The books examined in this review are models of how to expand the history of ideas to include individuals typically left out of intellectual histories and to ground those ideas within dense cultural histories and ethnography. What is America? What is race? What is Islam? Malcolm X was grappling with these questions, and the scholarly works reviewed here grapple with the global impact of his working ideas: the Muslim International, the science of imagery, the Dark World, and the aspirational soundtrack to his Black Revolution. 20 Zareena Grewal Notes 1. For my purposes here, I deal only with what I see as Marable’s two key contributions, excavating Malcolm X’s intellectual lineage and his internationalist politics. Although it is beyond the scope of my argument, I am deeply skeptical of the speculative dimension of Marable’s narra- tive, both in regards to the personal, biographical details of Malcolm X’s private life as well as the political opinions he would have held about the War on Terror had he lived to see September 11, 2001. For a critical response to Marable’s work, see Jared A. Ball and Todd Steven Burroughs, A Lie of Reinvention: Correcting Manning Marable’s Malcolm X (Baltimore, MD: Black Classic Press, 2012). 2. Manning Marable, Living Black History (New York: Basic Civitas, 2006), 146. 3. Michael Shapiro, “Moral Geographies and the Ethics of Post-Sovereignty,” Public Culture 6 (1994): 479–502. 4. Alex Lubin, “Between the Secular and the Sectarian: Malcolm X’s Afro-Arab Political Imaginary,” Journal of Africana Religions 3, no. 1 (2015): 83–95. 5. Aidi explores Malcolm X’s own passion for jazz and his lingering ambivalence in a separate essay: Hisham Aidi “The Music of Malcolm X,” New Yorker, February 28, 2015. 6. Zareena Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country: American Muslims and the Global Crisis of Authority (New York: New York University, 2013). 7. Edward Curtis. “African-American Islamization Reconsidered: Black History Narratives and Muslim Identity,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 73, no. 3 (2005): 659–684 and Yvonne Haddad, Not Quite American?: The Shaping of Arab and Muslim Identity in the United States (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2004). 8. Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country, 120. 9. Sally Howell offers an important corrective to this historiography in Sally Howell, Old Islam in Detroit: Rediscovering the Muslim American Past (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014). 10. Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country, 111. 11. Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country, 113. 12. Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country, 7. 13. For a recent example of this trend, see Mucahit Bilici, Finding Mecca in America: How Islam Is Becoming an American Religion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2012). 14. I am building on James Tyner’s otherwise excellent work, which neglects the role of reli- gion: James Tyner, The Geography of Malcolm X: Black Radicalism and the Remaking of American Space (New York: Routledge, 2006). 15. Grewal, Islam is a Foreign Country, 80. 1965 and the Global Intellectual Afterlife of Malcolm X 21 Randal Maurice Jelks, editor, pays homage to Malcolm X holding up a copy of Muhammad Speaks August 6, 1963. 
work_ygm6gdc6hjcudgcqgcrn36kgie	----	The Knowledge Translation Complexity Network (KTCN) Model: The Whole Is Greater Than the Sum of the Parts - A Response to Recent Commentaries The Knowledge Translation Complexity Network (KTCN) Model: The Whole Is Greater Than the Sum of the Parts - A Response to Recent Commentaries Alison Kitson1,2*, Rebekah O’Shea3, Alan Brook4,5, Gill Harvey6,7, Zoe Jordan8, Rhianon Marshall9, David Wilson10 Correspondence Full list of authors’ affiliations is available at the end of the article. http://ijhpm.com Int J Health Policy Manag 2018, 7(8), 768–770 doi 10.15171/ijhpm.2018.49 *Correspondence to: Alison Kitson, Email: alison.kitson@flinders.edu.au Copyright: © 2018 The Author(s); Published by Kerman University of Medical Sciences. This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/ by/4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Citation: Kitson A, O’Shea R, Brook A, et al. The Knowledge Translation Complexity Network (KTCN) model: the whole is greater than the sum of the parts - A response to recent commentaries. Int J Health Policy Manag. 2018;7(8):768–770. doi:10.15171/ijhpm.2018.49 Received: 6 May 2018; Accepted: 16 May 2018; ePublished: 11 June 2018 “The mind once stretched by a new idea, never returns to its original dimensions.” Ralph Waldo Emerson We would like to thank the authors who provided commentaries to our article. It is reassuring that our endeavours to explain a complex set of ideas and relationships are being carefully evaluated. Those who wrote commentaries supported to a greater or lesser degree the complexity inherent in knowledge translation (KT) as outlined in the model. We appreciated both confirmatory comments about the characteristics of the Knowledge Translation Complexity Network (KTCN) model and the observations that could lead to further refinement. This process aligns with the evaluation element in the model. Sturmberg1 reminded us of the value in distinguishing between data, information, facts, knowledge and wisdom, and that organisations ‘don’t receive knowledge’; they have to ‘learn’ about it. Sturmburg adds the extent to which organisations learn new knowledge, may be related to their purpose, goals and values. As the KTCN model is refined we agree there will be value in including reference to the inherent complex nature of knowledge and organizational behaviours. Taking a more traditional knowledge management perspective, Carlile2 argued that there were three types of knowledge movement: knowledge transfer, translation and transformation, each depending on how the knowledge had to be altered or adapted into the setting. This notion is consistent with Sturmberg’s ideas but also acknowledges the interactivity between the knowledge and the context. Chandler3 adds that more systematic work needs to be done on understanding how complexity theory can be used in health care settings. She also noted the value in having consistency in nomenclature, and greater alignment in order to enhance progress and deeper understanding. A major point of debate was the inherent paradox of whether the proposed KTCN model was purported to be predictive as well as explanatory. To clarify, retrospective mapping using the KTCN model can be used to explain behavior.4,5 The model is not intended to be predictive, but rather is a tool to be used to work a solution to a problem. The very nature of complexity and the need for evaluation at each step often means the problem, and solution, may change. As such, we agree that claiming to control or change behaviour is the anathema of how complexity thinking works. Indeed, the notion of ‘control’ is inappropriate: the strength may not be in ‘making’ the system change; it may be in recognizing and working with it, rather than expecting something will result from pushing against it. Rycroft-Malone6 noted that the utility of such a model will be contingent upon how easy users find it to understand and apply to their ‘challenge’ (or wicked problem), and to do so in a way that helps with both explanation and prediction. Perhaps understanding the emerging (and potentially different) solution is progress towards the solution. This addresses concerns of Kothari and Sibbald in relation to providing a solution.7 Kirchner et al8 provided a worked example of how the KTCN model can be used to explain the different actions and interactions between agents and actors within a complex implementation project. Using a multi-site implementation project introducing ways to reduce suicide rates in Veterans within Veterans Affairs, they demonstrated how using the model helped to make sense of what happened – both the expected and unintended consequences. They raised an important point regarding the negotiation of the timing and the execution of the project, taking into account the aims of multiple stakeholders, which in turn influence and shape the process and potential outcomes of the project. Bucknall and Hitch9 recognized the complexity and unpredictability of KT and the need to examine complex adaptive systems from diverse perspectives. They refer to the KTCN model as descriptive and ‘coherent, and it enables https://doi.org/10.15171/ijhpm.2018.49 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.15171/ijhpm.2018.49&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2018-06-11 https://doi.org/10.15171/ijhpm.2018.49 Kitson et al International Journal of Health Policy and Management, 2018, 7(8), 768–770 769 comparison of the properties with other theories’ (p3). The model does not intend to explain all, as we recognize one prescriptive approach cannot fit all. Yet, it can add to the move away from linear, reductionist thinking to a more contingent, networked, relationship based approach. Their analysis of the KTCN model against Nilsen’s typology10 was very helpful, and a line of inquiry that could further support Chandler’s request for more systematic evaluation. From these discrete reviews, we wish to reiterate a foundational point; namely that the KTCN model encourages us to change the way we think about how knowledge moves within and across systems. Our thesis in the paper was that the shift in thinking needs to happen in the first instance, within the individual, acknowledging that there is rarely a completely prescribed way of doing (KT) things. Raising the awareness of the complexity and dynamism of situations, the individual can learn to use the KTCN model scaffolding as an external aid rather than starting from the (more accepted) position that if a set of KT tools are generated and implemented, then desired outcomes will be achieved. This is the reason evaluation of complexity is both required and demanding. It may also be part of the reason why our understanding of the effectiveness of certain implementation interventions is equivocal – we are unable to recognize and hence describe the multiple variations and nuanced interactions that necessarily take place in order for desired goals to happen. It may be that the first step is around understanding the nature and extent of the problem. Problems will have different ‘urgencies’ – as alluded to by Chandler’s comment (p2); tragedies (such as the Tsunami example in the paper) will galvanise concerted action, more so than contested issues. Tragedies, wars, power struggles and competitive advantage tend to create their own urgencies while other (equally important but contested) social issues such as fighting obesity or poverty or indeed, ensuring that health professionals use appropriate hand washing techniques, do not seem to have the same traction despite policy support and community involvement. This means that we enact KT by ‘pulling’ relevant knowledge through to groups and then the networks enable the appropriate connections to happen. The ‘pulling’ may indeed be a function of the concentrated energy and will to act, alongside the identification of the relevant champions – or actors – who can enable things to happen. Coming together around trying to solve these complex problems is what is happening in the research world more and more. We know that universities globally are incentivizing trans-disciplinary and inter-organizational teams to work more effectively together. By engaging health professionals, corporates, government representatives and potential consumers from the start, it is anticipated that there will be greater readiness and receptivity to implementation and evaluation. However, there are still multiple challenges if we embrace this way of thinking about KT. The majority of the reviewers confirmed the elements of the model – dynamism, complexity, emergence, timelines – but wanted more recognition around how these elements fit and how they can be used. Players and sub-networks are different so again, how does this work and how is it applied? Expectations from some of the commentaries are that you can generate a tool and make KT happen, however this way of thinking does not align with the inherent flexibility that the model encourages. We believe it is important to embrace the KTCN model as a concept that offers a different way of thinking and is not simply a circularized linear model with complexity. We are coming back to the realization that all you can do is identify the elements and then launch yourself into the ‘workflow that is a natural experiment’ – it has never been done before, it will not ever happen in the same way again but the shared understanding, experience and knowledge will help individuals, teams and organisations ‘do better’ next time. Again evaluation of processes is key and it does alert one to patterns that are both static and dynamic. Our current understanding of evaluation methods and processes often does not enable us to exercise this level of specificity or depth. Evaluation needs to be continuous, both at the individual and organizational level; it starts with reflective practice and builds up into a wider systems process with multiple actors/ agents/actions involved. It is methodologically challenging but with data and feedback, it can start to provide agents in complex systems with approaches to understand how best to act in order to achieve their goal. This leads us to consider how individual reflections can be validated by sharing and confirmation, refutation and pattern recognition. These are the boundaries where individual experiences can be aggregated into networks of shared understanding, leading to what Sturmberg would describe as wisdom. Does this reflect the nodes, hubs and networks in action? So, what are the next steps in this journey? Perhaps the best way is to follow on from Kirchner et al,8 and do a post hoc analysis of a previous problem. This sets the mental processes in place enabling flexible navigation and application to a currently unresolved wicked problem. Acknowledgements We would like to thank the considered feedback on the KTCN model as provided through the commentaries. Ethical issues Not applicable. Competing interests Gill Harvey is on the Editorial Board for the International Journal of Health Policy and Management. Authors’ contributions AK and RO drafted the manuscript. All authors critically reviewed and revised the manuscript. All authors were involved with the development of the original article to which the commentary relates. Authors’ affiliations 1College of Nursing and Health Sciences, Flinders University, Bedford Park, SA, Australia. 2Green Templeton College, University of Oxford, Oxford, UK. 3University of Adelaide, Adelaide, SA, Australia. 4Adelaide Dental School, Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, University of Adelaide, Adelaide, SA, Australia. 5Institute of Dentistry, Queen Mary University of London, London, UK. 6Adelaide Nursing School, Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, University Kitson et al International Journal of Health Policy and Management, 2018, 7(8), 768–770770 of Adelaide, Adelaide, SA, Australia. 7Alliance Manchester Business School, University of Manchester, Manchester, UK. 8The Joanna Briggs Institute, Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, University of Adelaide, Adelaide, SA, Australia. 9Independent Clinical Psychologist. 10Adelaide Medical School, Faculty of Health and Medical Sciences, University of Adelaide, Adelaide, SA, Australia. References 1. Sturmberg JP. Knowledge translation in healthcare – towards understanding its true complexities; Comment on “Using complexity and network concepts to inform healthcare knowledge translation.” Int J Health Policy Manag. 2018;7(5):455-458. doi:10.15171/ ijhpm.2017.111 2. Carlile PR. Transferring, translating, and transforming: an integrative framework for managing knowledge across boundaries. Organ Sci. 2004;15(5):555-568. doi:10.1287/orsc.1040.0094 3. Chandler J. The paradox of intervening in complex adaptive systems; Comment on “Using complexity and network concepts to inform healthcare knowledge translation.” Int J Health Policy Manag. 2018;7(6):569-571. doi:10.15171/ijhpm.2018.05 4. Brook AH, Liversidge HM, Wilson D, et al. Health research, teaching and provision of care: applying a new approach based on complex systems and a knowledge translation complexity network model. Int J Des Nat Ecodyn. 2016;11(4):663-669. doi:10.2495/DNE- V11-N4-663-669 5. Kitson A, Brook A, Harvey G, et al. 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work_yjcmujlvpbfszdkjtaoj3o4pae	----	Understanding Humans: The Extensions of Digital Media information Essay Understanding Humans: The Extensions of Digital Media Robert K. Logan Department of Physics and St. Michael’s College, University of Toronto, Toronto, ON M5S 1A7, Canada; logan@physics.utoronto.ca Received: 12 September 2019; Accepted: 27 September 2019; Published: 29 September 2019 ����������������� Abstract: With digital media, not only are media extensions of their human users, as McLuhan posited, but there is a flip or reversal in which the human users of digital media become an extension of those digital media as these media scoop up their data and use them to the advantage of those that control these media. The implications of this loss of privacy as we become “an item in a data bank” are explored and the field of captology is described. The feedback of the users of digital media become the feedforward for those media. Keywords: McLuhan; extensions of man; media; technology Technologies are merely extensions of ourselves—McLuhan [1] (261) All media are extensions of some human faculty—psychic or physical—McLuhan and Fiore [2] Digital industrialism turns human data into the new commodity—Rushkoff [3] (44) This is Google’s model of giving away everything in return for looking at their ads and sharing all our data—Rushkoff (ibid., 37) 1. Introduction The idea that our tools are extensions of our body dates back to the latter half of the 19th century. Ralph Waldo Emerson [4] in 1870 wrote, “All the tools and engines on earth are only extensions of man’s limbs and senses.” And Henry Ward Beecher [5] in 1887 wrote, “A tool is but the extension of a man’s hand and a machine is but a complex tool.” This idea was then picked up in 1923 by C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards [6] (98) in their book The Meaning of Meaning, where they wrote, “But language, though often spoken of as a medium of communication is best regarded as an instrument; and all instruments are extensions or refinements of our sense organs.” Lewis Mumford [7] (321) also dealt with this theme in Technics and Civilization: The tools and utensils used during the greater part of man’s history were, in the main, extensions of his own organism; they did not seem to have—what is more important they did not seem to have—an independent existence. But though they were an intimate part of the worker, they reacted upon his capacities, sharpening his eyes, refining his skill, teaching him to respect the nature of the material with which he was dealing. The tool brought man into closer harmony with his environment, not merely because it enabled him to re-shape it, but because it made him recognize the limits of his capacities. In dream, he was all powerful: in reality he had to recognize the weight of stone and cut stones no bigger than he could transport. McLuhan, who was familiar with both Ogden and Richards’s paper and Mumford’s book, made use of this idea in his book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man [8], where it became a central theme of his understanding of media and technology and their effects. Information 2019, 10, 304; doi:10.3390/info10100304 www.mdpi.com/journal/information http://www.mdpi.com/journal/information http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0002-3307-2356 http://www.mdpi.com/2078-2489/10/10/304?type=check_update&version=1 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/info10100304 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/information Information 2019, 10, 304 2 of 6 McLuhan wrote, This is merely to say that the personal and social consequences of any medium—that is, of any extension of ourselves—result from the new scale that is introduced into our affairs by each extension of ourselves, or by any new technology . . . . Physiologically, man in the normal use of technology (or his variously extended body) is perpetually modified by it and in turn finds ever new ways of modifying his technology. Man becomes, as it were, the sex organs of the machine world, as the bee of the plant world, enabling it to fecundate and to evolve ever new forms. The machine world reciprocates man’s love by expediting his wishes and desires, namely, in providing him with wealth [8] (23; 55–56; bolding is mine; the page references in the text are for the McGraw Hill paperback second edition. Readers should be aware that the pagination in other editions is different. To aid the reader in calibrating note that Chapter 1 The Medium is the Message begins on page 7 in the edition I have referenced). McLuhan made use of the theme of media as “extensions of man” throughout his career. He wrote with Quentin Fiore in The Medium is the Massage: An Inventory of Effects, “All media are extensions of some human faculty—psychic or physical” [9] (26). With Barrington Nevitt in Take Today: Executive as Dropout, he wrote, “Environments work us over and remake us. It is man who is the content of and the message of the media, which are extensions of himself” [9] (90). McLuhan’s notion of media as “extensions of man”, which he formulated before the digital age, also holds true for today’s technologies. His insights into electric media apply with equal validity for many of the features of digital technology. He seems to have foreshadowed the Internet, Wikipedia, and Google when he wrote, A computer as a research and communication instrument could enhance retrieval, obsolesce mass library organization, retrieve individual encyclopedic function and flip into a private line to speedily tailored data of a saleable kind [10] (295–96). The sense in which the data provided by companies such as Google is of a “saleable kind” is that Google and other search engine companies receive revenue from advertisers for the advertisements that accompany the data that we request from these search engine companies. McLuhan [11] developed the Laws of Media as a technique for analyzing media. It consists of four laws, namely, that every medium, tool, or human artifact enhances some human function (Law 1); obsolesces a former way of achieving that function (Law 2); retrieves something from the past (Law 3); and, according to Law 4, any technology pushed far enough flips or reverses into its opposite or complementary form. Applying the Laws of Media to digital media, we find that 1. Digital new media enhance interactivity, access to information, and two-way communication. 2. They obsolesce mass media, such as television and newspapers. 3. They retrieve community. 4. And pushed far enough, they flip or reverse into hyperreality or the loss of contact with nature and our bodies. I believe there is another flip or reversal associated with digital media, namely, the reversal of the notion that media are extensions of man. McLuhan suggested that human communications could be divided into the eras of oral, written, and electric communication. Despite not having experienced the digital age which began with the emergence of the personal computer, the Internet, and the Web, McLuhan seems to have anticipated many of the features of the digital era. Because digital technology pushes electric technology to its extreme, it causes a flip or a reversal of the effects of this class of technologies. The flip is that not only are digital media an extension of the psyche of the user, as is Information 2019, 10, 304 3 of 6 the case with oral, written, and electric media, but it is also the case that the user actually becomes an extension of his digital technology, unlike the situation in the earlier ages of nondigital media. Culkin [12] wrote that, “we shape our tools and thereafter they shape us.” Culkin’s formulation is basically a reformulation of McLuhan’s remark that the users of technology are “perpetually modified by it [their technology].” With digital media, there is the added feature that the use of the digital media that we humans shaped is reshaped through our use of those media. Let us explain the sense in which we believe that users become the extensions of their digital media. In addition to the hardware and software of which digital media systems are composed, they are also composed of the data that is stored within them (i.e., the Big Data that sits in the Cloud). Most of that data or information comes directly from the users of the system, as every key stroke and choice they make is information that is fed into that Big Data system, as Rushkoff [3] (90–91) explained in Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus: Projects such as IBM’s Watson or Google’s Machine Learning lab are not augmenting human intelligence so much as creating systems that think for themselves. With every keystroke and mouse click we make; their algorithms learn more about us while simultaneously becoming more complex than we—or anyone — can comprehend. They are getting smarter while we humans are getting relatively, or perhaps absolutely, dumber. Our machines slowly learn how to manipulate us. It’s a field now called captology: the study of how computers and interfaces can influence human behavior. The data associated with their reactions to the “speedily tailored data of a saleable kind” [10] (295–96) with which they are provided, unbeknownst to them, is captured and literally becomes an extension of that information system with which they, the users, are interacting. The users of a digital information system literally become an extension of that technology (i.e., de facto, the content of the medium with which they are interacting). This content is different than the “content” McLuhan referred to in his one-liner “the user is the content.” The content in “the user is the content” is the way the users of an information system interpret the data they encounter. With digital media, the system itself is also interpreting. It is interpreting the users who literally become the content of that system as their keystrokes and the data those keystrokes represent are incorporated into the Big Data that comprises the system with which they just communicated. This way, we become an extension of that medium and it somehow seems to fulfill a sentiment McLuhan [8] (64) prophesized when he wrote, “In this electronic age we see ourselves being translated more and more into the form of information, moving toward the technological extension of consciousness.” The digital media being an extension of us and at the same time we becoming an extension of our digital media is a cybernetic feedback loop in which we become trapped and at the mercy of the creators and controllers of the digital information systems with which we interact. It has always been the case that a medium or tool had a certain control over us as a user of that medium or tool, as described by McLuhan and Fiore [2] (26): All media work us over completely. They are so persuasive in their personal, political, economic, aesthetic, psychological, moral, ethical, and social consequences that they leave no part of us untouched, unaffected, unaltered. The medium is the massage. But the control of digital media is even more insidious because it is an invasion of our privacy and it is about us personally as we become “an item in a data bank”: Electronic man wears his brain outside his skull and his nervous system on top of his skin. He is like an exposed spider squatting in a thrumming web. But he is not flesh and blood; he is an item in a data bank, ephemeral, easily forgotten, and resentful of that fact - McLuhan and Powers [13] (94). Information 2019, 10, 304 4 of 6 This is what McLuhan [14] (1969) meant when he wrote, “The more the data banks record about each one of us, the less we exist.” As extensions of our digital technology, the problem that arises is because of the monopolies that digital media creates such as Google, Facebook, Instagram, Amazon, Yahoo, Twitter, Apple, and Microsoft. The potential for their abuse is great. When our technologies were only extensions of us, they enhanced our capabilities and we were in command of them in the sense that they did our bidding as their servomechanisms. The tools no doubt affected us but they were not used by others to control us. That is no longer the case with digital media because those that control digital information systems can use the data we key into their systems to manipulate us. The field of captology has the direct aim of manipulating our behavior by making use of what they learn about us. We have always been manipulated by media through advertising with newspapers, magazines, radio, and television but not to the same degree as is the case with digital media, search engines, and social media. Captology was started by BJ Fogg (http://captology.stanford.edu/resources/thoughts-on- persuasive-technology.html), who describes captology in the following terms: After we ran a number of experiments, and after these studies were replicated elsewhere, the results were undeniable. Computers could indeed be designed to influence people, to change their thoughts and behaviors . . . . Today, we are surrounded by persuasive technologies. Everywhere that digital media touches our lives, more and more there is an element of persuasion; a design created by humans and implemented in code to influence what we think, and more and more, what we do . . . . Today, we are surrounded by persuasive technologies. Everywhere that digital media touches our lives, more and more there is an element of persuasion; a design created by humans and implemented in code to influence what we think, and more and more, what we do. We are surrounded. Persuasive technology is in our living rooms, in our cars. When we communicate with our loved ones online, through Facebook, persuasion is there. When we withdraw money from the bank at the ATM, an element of persuasion may be there. When we purchase a gift online for a birthday, once again, we are being exposed to persuasion. In fact, we carry a persuasive platform, the mobile phone, with us most everywhere we go. The Internet gives us the illusion of being part of a two-way channel of communication. The reality and the danger is that we are becoming extensions of our digital technologies controlled by the monopolies of the Internet that dominate this medium of media. We are not suggesting that any of the organizations that we listed above have any malicious intents, but still, when the concentration of computing power becomes so great, the possibility of malevolent actions is something we need to think about. There is always a danger when control of the dominant technology of a culture is in the hands of a small number of agents. Many years before digital media invaded our world, McLuhan [8] (73) warned against this invasion of our privacy when he wrote, Once we have surrendered our senses and nervous systems to the private manipulation of those who would try to benefit from taking a lease on our eyes and ears and nerves, we don’t really have any rights left. Leasing our eyes and ears and nerves to commercial interests is like handing over the common speech to a private corporation, or like giving the earth’s atmosphere to a company as a monopoly. 2. More Reversals with Digital Media There is another flip with digital media in addition to the reversal where the users become the extension of their media. Our tools or media comprise the environment or ground in which we operate. That is still true with digital media but we as the users of digital media become the ground in which digital media operate, as their effectiveness depends on the information ground that we, their users, http://captology.stanford.edu/resources/thoughts-on-persuasive-technology.html http://captology.stanford.edu/resources/thoughts-on-persuasive-technology.html Information 2019, 10, 304 5 of 6 create. So, we have the flip of digital media operating in the information ground of their users in addition to their users operating in the ground of the very same digital media. The feedback of the users become the feedforward for the digital media. There is even the reversal of McLuhan’s signature one-liner “the medium is the message”, which reverses into “the user is the message”. The user’s information becomes the content of the digital medium. That data is then tailored to exploit the needs, interests, and desires of the user to the advantage of the operators or owners of the digital medium and the clients of that digital medium, who use the data they collect from the visitors to their sites for their commercial interests. Not only are the effects of digital media subliminal like all other media but the appropriation of the user’s data is also subliminal in that the user is unaware of the process. In addition to the visitor to an Internet site becoming a user of the site, the site becomes a user of the visitor. Just as there is no privacy in a village, it is also the case that there is no privacy in the global village of the Internet. Finally, there is a new reversal of cause and effect in that the effect of users using a website becomes the cause of the website using the visitors’ data and eventually the users. 3. The Digital Monopoly of Knowledge Harold Innis [15,16] defined a monopoly of knowledge as pertaining to a ruling class that could maintain political or economic power by their exclusive use or control of a vital communication technology. In the oral era, it was through rhetoric or the ability to use spoken language persuasively. In the literate age before universal education, those who possessed the skills of literacy were able to dominate those who were illiterate. In the age of print, those who possessed or controlled a printing press could dominate their society, as was the case when the dominance of the Hearst newspaper chain was able to set the agenda for the foreign policy of the United States. The fears that Innis expressed in 1951 have abated somewhat because computing and connectivity have led to open systems in which information is free to flow and small elites are no longer as able to completely control the creation of wealth and the flow of information. The Internet and the World Wide Web have played a prominent role in the breakdown of Industrial Era monopolies of knowledge by providing a medium whereby nonprofessionals have been able to share their experiences and network their knowledge. Websites that act as electronic support groups have sprung up all over the Net, providing practical suggestions for those who have to cope with a variety of different political, economic, medical, psychological, and social problems. Bloggers represent a further evolution of this trend not only for political opinion but also support and information for a variety of interests and concerns. While the Internet has abated some forms of the monopoly of knowledge, the harvesting of personal data by Internet monopolies such as Google, Facebook, Amazon, and the like represents a new form of the monopoly of knowledge of the personal information associated with the users of these sites. 4. Conclusions Digital technology and specifically the Internet and the Web seemed to hold the promise of the liberation of the 99% from the 1% that control the wealth of the planet and its channels of communication. It looked like freedom of the press was not going to belong only to those who owned one, but with the two-way flow of information, finally, the 99%-ers could find a voice. This has certainly happened. What we did not see was that the two-way flow of information not only allows for self-expression for all (at least for those with access to the Net) but it also allows the large monopolies that dominate the Internet to exploit without our permission the information and data we generate unintentionally while visiting their sites. Funding: This research received no external funding. Information 2019, 10, 304 6 of 6 Acknowledgments: This paper was formulated as a direct result of listening to Douglas Rushkoff’s presentation based on his book Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus at the McLuhan Centre for Culture and Technology at the University of Toronto on 21 November 2016. The ideas were developed as a result of the dialogue Doug and I had during his seminar presentation and in the private conversation that ensued after the seminar as well as the result of a number of email exchanges. The idea presented here that we become the content of digital media is basically Doug’s with the exception of the twist I gave to it by suggesting the flip that we are extensions of the digital media we make use of instead of the usual McLuhan notion that our media are extensions of us, both of which are claimed to be true. Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest. References 1. McLuhan, M. Interview. In McLuhan, Hot & Cool; Gerald, E.S., Ed.; Dial Press: New York, NY, USA, 1967. 2. McLuhan, M.; Fiore, Q. The Medium is the Massage; Bantam Books: New York, NY, USA, 1967. 3. Rushkoff, D. Throwing Rocks at the Google Bus; Portfolio: New York, NY, USA, 2016. 4. Emerson, R.W. Society and Solitude: Twelve Chapters; James R. Osgood and Company: Boston, MA, USA, 1875. 5. Beecher, H.W. Proverbs from Plymouth Pulpit; D. Appleton & Company: New York, NY, USA, 1887. 6. Ogden, C.K.; Richards, I.A. The Meaning of Meaning; Harcourt, Brace & World: New York, NY, USA, 1923. 7. Mumford, L. Technics and Civilization; Routledge and Kegan Paul: London, UK, 1934. 8. McLuhan, M. Understanding Media; McGraw Hill: New York, NY, USA, 1964. 9. McLuhan, M.; Nevitt, B. Take Today: The Executive as Dropout; Longman: Toronto, ON, Canada, 1972. 10. McLuhan, E.; Zingrone, F. (Eds.) Computer. In Essential McLuhan; Anansi: Concord, ON, Canada, 1995. 11. McLuhan, M.; McLuhan, E. Laws of Media: The New Science; University of Toronto Press: Toronto, ON, Canada, 1988. 12. Culkin, J. A Schoolman’s Guide to Marshall McLuhan. Available online: https://static1.squarespace.com/static/ 5a6135761f318d1d719bd5d9/t/5b2536342b6a2886441759d5/1529165365116/JOHN_CULKIN.pdf (accessed on 20 September 2019). 13. McLuhan, M.; Powers, B. Global Village: Transformations in World Life and Media in the 21st Century; Oxford University Press: New York, NY, USA, 1989. 14. McLuhan, M. The Playboy Interview: Marshall McLuhan. Playboy Mag. 1969, 26, 45–55. 15. Innis, H. The Bias of Communication; University of Toronto Press: Toronto, ON, Canada, 1951. 16. Innis, H. Empire and Communications—With foreword by Marshall McLuhan; University of Toronto Press: Toronto, ON, Canada, 1972. © 2019 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5a6135761f318d1d719bd5d9/t/5b2536342b6a2886441759d5/1529165365116/JOHN_CULKIN.pdf https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5a6135761f318d1d719bd5d9/t/5b2536342b6a2886441759d5/1529165365116/JOHN_CULKIN.pdf http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction More Reversals with Digital Media The Digital Monopoly of Knowledge Conclusions References 
work_yl7bmckiefaufikuonaunwlkgi	----	Approaches to Teaching the Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson Edited by Mark C. Long and Sean Ross Meehan The Modern Language Association of America New York 2018 © 2018 by The Modern Language Association of America All rights reserved Printed in the United States of America MLA and the MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION are trademarks owned by the Modern Language Association of America. For information about obtaining permission to reprint material from MLA book publications, send your request by mail (see address below) or e-mail (permissions@mla.org). Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN 978-1-60329-373-0 (cloth) ISBN 978-1-60329-374-7 (paper) ISBN 978-1-60329-375-4 (EPUB) ISBN 978-1-60329-376-1 (Kindle) Approaches to Teaching World Literature 155 ISSN 1059-1133 Cover illustration of the paperback and electronic editions: Watercolor sketch of Juniperus virginiana L. (1908) from Water-color Sketches of Plants of North America and Europe, vol. 1, by Helen Sharp. Image from the Biodiversity Heritage Library (www.biodiversitylibrary .org). Digitized by Chicago Botanic Garden, Lenhardt Library. Published by The Modern Language Association of America 85 Broad Street, suite 500, New York, New York 10004-2434 www.mla.org CONTENTS Acknowledgments ix PART ONE: MATERIALS Editions and Texts 3 Critical Reception 7 Critical Studies 8 Intellectual and Critical Contexts 9 Digital Resources 11 PART TWO: APPROACHES Introduction: Learning from Emerson 15 Approaching Emerson as a Public Intellectual Emerson the Orator: Teaching the Narratives of “The Divinity School Address” 24 David M. Robinson Emerson the Essayist in the American Essay Canon 31 Ned Stuckey-French Politically Ethical Aesthetics: Teaching Emerson’s Poetry in the Context of Diversity in the United States 37 Saundra Morris Teaching Emerson’s Philosophical Inheritance 46 Susan L. Dunston Emerson and the Reform Culture of the Second Great Awakening 53 Todd H. Richardson The Turbulent Embrace of Thinking: Teaching Emerson the Educator 59 Martin Bickman Emerson the Author: Introducing The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson into the Classroom 65 Ronald A. Bosco Teaching Emerson’s Essays Once More into the Breach: Teaching Emerson’s Nature 75 Michael P. Branch vi contents “The American Scholar” as Commencement Address 82 Andrew Kopec The Divine Sublime: Educating Spiritual Teachers in “The Divinity School Address” 87 Corinne E. Blackmer Experimenting with “Circles” 93 Nels Anchor Christensen Beyond “Mendicant and Sycophantic” Reading: Teaching the Seminar Studies in American Self-Reliance 98 Wesley T. Mott The Ideals of “Friendship” 104 Jennifer Gurley In Praise of Affi rmation: On Emerson’s “Experience” 110 Branka Arsić Teaching Emerson’s Other Works Teaching Emerson in the Nineteenth-Century Poetry Course 119 Christoph Irmscher Teaching Emerson’s Antislavery Writings 125 Len Gougeon Teaching the Practical Emerson through the Sermons and the Early Lectures 131 Carolyn R. Maibor Emerson, Gender, and the Journals 136 Jean Ferguson Carr A Natural History of Intellect? Emerson’s Scientifi c Methods in the Later Lectures 142 Meredith Farmer Emerson across the Curriculum “These Flames and Generosities of the Heart”: Emerson in the Poetry Workshop 148 Dan Beachy-Quick Between the Disciplines and beyond the Institution: Emerson’s Environmental Relevance 153 T. S. McMillin Emerson in Media Studies and Journalism 159 David O. Dowling contents vii Emerson and the Digital Humanities 164 Amy Earhart Emerson around the World Emerson’s Transatlantic Networks 169 Leslie Elizabeth Eckel Teaching the Latin American Emerson 175 Anne Fountain Emerson and Nietzsche 181 Herwig Friedl Emerson in the East: Perennial Philosophy as Humanistic Inquiry 187 John Michael Corrigan Notes on Contributors 193 Survey Participants 197 Works Cited 199 Index 215 Editions and Texts With the recent completion of the defi nitive, ten-volume scholarly edition of all of Emerson’s works published in his lifetime and under his supervision, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson marks the culmination of a half cen- tury of vigorous textual editing that has conveyed the full range of Emerson’s writing and thinking with unprecedented accuracy and authority. The pub- lication of this textual scholarship—along with The Early Lectures of Ralph Waldo Emerson and the sixteen volumes of The Journals and Miscellaneous Notebooks, extending to The Complete Sermons, The Poetry Notebooks, The Topical Notebooks, the four-volume supplement to The Letters of Ralph Waldo Emerson and The Selected Letters, Emerson’s Antislavery Writings, The Later Lectures, and The Selected Lectures—has reintroduced to Emerson’s readers, particularly students without access to these previously unpublished materials, the ways that Emerson worked and thought through his ideas in the medium of his writing. The Emerson scholar and biographer Lawrence Buell refers to Emerson as “a kind of performance artist” to characterize a fundamental para- dox of his work, the ways he pursued a core idea by “forever reopening and reformulating it, looping away and back again, convinced that the spirit of the idea dictated that no fi nal statement was possible” (Emerson 2). The scholarship represented in these defi nitive editions of Emerson’s works brings the artistry of Emerson’s performance center stage for the twenty-fi rst-century study of this important author. Replacing the Riverside Edition of Emerson’s Complete Works (1883–93), edited by James Elliot Cabot, Emerson’s literary executor, and the Centenary Edition of The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Emer- son’s son Edward, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson will guide the study of Emerson in its comprehensive attention to the authorship of Em- erson’s published work and to the contexts of its composition. This standard edition of Emerson’s works provides in its fi rst eight volumes the books of prose brought to press by Emerson: Nature, Addresses, and Lectures (1849), Essays: First Series (1841), Essays: Second Series (1844), Representative Men (1850), English Traits (1856), The Conduct of Life (1860), Society and Solitude (1870), and Letters and Social Aims (1875). A ninth volume offers a variorum edition of Emerson’s poems, including the poetry originally published in Poems (1847) and “May-Day” and Other Pieces (1867). The tenth and fi nal volume gathers all of Emerson’s previously published prose writing left uncollected at the time of his death in 1882. While students will certainly benefi t, much as researchers continue to benefi t, from consulting the extensive historical and textual introductions and the edito- rial apparatus provided in this edition, the signifi cant cost of each volume limits its adoption as a classroom text. However, the Belknap Press of Harvard Univer- sity Press published in 2015 two single volumes containing selections from these 4 editions and texts editions that will be valuable and feasible for classroom study, particularly in upper-level courses that seek to read Emerson at greater length: Ralph Waldo Emerson: The Major Poetry and Ralph Waldo Emerson: The Major Prose. The selection of Emerson’s major prose provides a particular example of how the signifi cant textual scholarship pursued in Emerson studies over the past fi fty years will shape and indeed change the ways Emerson will be read and taught in the classroom over the next fi fty years. While selecting Emer- son’s most recognizable prose the editors, Ronald A. Bosco and Joel Myerson, also broaden our understanding of Emerson’s authorship in offering “the only anthology of his writings that draws from the three predominant sources of his prose: the pulpit, the lecture hall, and print” (Ralph Waldo Emerson: The Major Prose xxix). Furthermore, this volume reedits texts drawn from the fi rst three volumes of the Collected Works to correct inconsistencies that resulted from an “editorial policy of producing eclectic texts drawn from many sources over many decades” (xxxvii). These reedited texts include Nature, “The Divinity School Ad- dress,” “Self-Reliance,” “Circles,” and “Experience.” Ronald A. Bosco, who also serves as the general editor of The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, will explore further lessons for teaching derived from the editing of Emerson in his contribution to this volume in part 2.1 Bosco advances the concern that the Emerson canon has been shaped primarily by textbook anthology editors rather than teachers. He argues persuasively that introducing the scholarly, ed- ited archive of Emerson’s volumes into the classroom enlivens and broadens the Emerson canon in ways that would have made sense to Emerson and his “ authorial mind at work.” This archive, moreover, will guide our students toward the central question we continue to pose to them: where do we fi nd Emerson? As a start, we recommend that teachers consult the bibliography of authoritative editions of Emerson’s writings provided by the Ralph Waldo Emerson Society (“Writings by Emerson”). Our survey of scholars indicates a wide range in the texts teachers use to assign Emerson in the classroom, particularly in the case of books ordered for student purchase. For courses and seminars dedicating signifi cant time to the study of Emerson, the Norton Critical Edition by Joel Porte and Saundra Mor- ris, Emerson’s Prose and Poetry, provides an attractive combination of primary and secondary texts, including as it does in one volume a broad selection of Emerson’s major writing as well as a range of critical perspectives. Porte’s Li- brary of America edition, Emerson: Essays and Lectures, remains an option for assigning extensive reading of Emerson’s prose beyond a selection of essays. This volume includes all the prose works published by Emerson through The Conduct of Life. The Library of America also offers a volume of Emerson’s Collected Poems and Translations (edited by Harold Bloom and Paul Kane) and two volumes of extensive selections from his journals, Selected Journals: 1820–1842 and Selected Journals: 1841–1877 (both edited by Lawrence Rosen- wald). A handy “College Edition” paperback of Emerson: Essays and Poems is no longer available from Library of America, though a paperback edition Essays: editions and texts 5 First and Second Series (Porte) remains in print. Richard Poirier’s 1990 edition Ralph Waldo Emerson for the Oxford Authors series is also now out of print. A new Selected Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Robert D. Habich, offers students a generous selection of Emerson’s poetry and prose published in his lifetime, drawing from the more familiar earlier works but also, signifi cantly, the work of the 1850s and beyond. When less extensive selections of Emerson’s most familiar works are needed, given a shorter time frame in the course, paperback editions that select from his essays, poetry, and some lectures include The Essential Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson (Atkinson), which leads off with an engaging introduction by the poet Mary Oliver, and more recently an update of The Portable Emerson, edited by Jeffrey S. Cramer. David Mikics’s The Annotated Emerson provides extensive and vivid annotations for a selection of Emerson’s most well-known essays and poems. For the purpose of teaching Emerson within the constraints of an American literature survey course, literature anthologies remain a popular if also problematic option; the two most often used anthologies are The Norton Anthology of American Literature (Baym et al.) and The Heath Anthology of American Literature (Lauter et al.), both of which continue to reprint a familiar selection of texts, from Nature to “Experience.” For teachers wanting to cultivate Emerson’s signifi cant example in the legacy of nature writing in a course in environmental studies or environmental lit- erature, the Beacon Press edition Nature/Walking provides an inviting option, pairing Emerson’s Nature with Thoreau’s essay “Walking” and offering an intro- duction by John Elder. A more extensive offering of Emerson’s environmental writing that includes his early natural history lectures is available in “The Best Read Naturalist”: Nature Writings of Ralph Waldo Emerson, edited by Mi- chael P. Branch and Clinton Mohs. (Branch discusses these writings and their uses in teaching Nature in part 2.) Though many acknowledge Emerson’s im- portance in the tradition of the essay genre, his presence in anthologies of the type that teachers might assign in courses on creative nonfi ction and the essay is surprisingly limited. The Oxford Book of Essays (Gross) offers “The Conserva- tive,” Emerson’s lecture from 1841, for its one selection. For those wanting to bring into a course on the essay something more representative of Emerson’s rhetorical poetics, Patrick Madden’s Quotidiana, a digital resource and com- pendium of classical essays, provides digital versions of four essays by Emerson, including “Experience” and “Illusions.” General Reference As a general reference for further reading and study, both for instructors devel- oping an Emerson curriculum and for students in reading Emerson, Tiffany K. Wayne’s Critical Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson: A Literary Reference to His Life and Work offers a useful starting point. Along with a bibliography of 6 editions and texts primary and secondary sources and a chronology of Emerson’s life and times, Wayne offers a brief summary and critical commentary on nearly 140 sermons, lectures, and poems, as well as individual discussion of all the essays published in Emerson’s books. Additional entries also provide reference to signifi cant fi gures and topics associated with Emerson and transcendentalism. To guide course development and critical reading for students beyond summary of Emer- son’s texts, teachers should consult Wesley T. Mott’s Ralph Waldo Emerson in Context (2013), which offers thirty-two accessible readings into core concepts and contexts for understanding Emerson’s work and thought, produced by lead- ing Emerson scholars. The topics covered include “Europe,” “Democracy,” “Race,” “Publishers,” and “Fame,” among many others. Biographical Resources Emerson: The Mind on Fire (1995), by Robert D. Richardson, Jr., is arguably the most authoritative and engaging intellectual history of Emerson’s reading and thinking. Richardson’s work is a particularly effective companion for the study of Emerson’s texts, an Emersonian reading into Emerson’s life of the mind. It remains an invaluable starting point for conceiving of the study of Emer- son and also, given Richardson’s other biographies (on Thoreau and William James), for thinking through Emerson’s intellectual relations and friendships. Ralph L. Rusk’s The Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1949), Gay Wilson Allen’s Waldo Emerson: A Biography (1981), and John McAleer’s Ralph Waldo Emer- son: Days of Encounter (1984) each provides readers extensive biographical details and are worthy of consultation. For classroom use, however, Lawrence Buell’s Emerson (2003) is particularly effective in organizing its biographical focus around key elements and critical problems of Emerson’s thought and writ- ing (for example, “Emerson as a Philosopher?” and “Emerson as Anti-Mentor”). Buell makes a compelling case for understanding Emerson as a national icon, America’s fi rst public intellectual, as well as an author of world literature. Buell’s study is useful for the teacher thinking through issues that an upper-level course might engage while also providing a critical discussion of Emerson that is acces- sible to students at both introductory and advanced levels. For instructors interested in earlier biographies of Emerson, as well as the construction of the author by his earliest biographers, Robert D. Habich’s Building Their Own Waldos: Emerson’s First Biographers and the Politics of Life-Writing in the Gilded Age (2011) provides generative insights. Bosco and Myerson’s The Emerson Brothers: A Fraternal Biography in Letters (2005) brings a unique approach to biography by way of Emerson’s relationship with his brothers. For guidance in placing Emerson’s life and work in the larger context of the nineteenth century, and most particularly the extensive lecturing that Emerson pursued across four decades, Albert J. von Frank’s An Emerson Chro- nology is remarkably detailed and useful; a revised and enlarged second edition editions and texts 7 of the book (2016; originally published in 1994) is now available. James Elliot Cabot’s two-volume A Memoir of Ralph Waldo Emerson also places Emerson’s work in chronological context, while providing summaries of many of the lec- tures that Emerson gave throughout his career. Finally, Joel Myerson and Leslie Perrin Wilson’s Picturing Emerson: An Iconography further illuminates Emer- son’s biography by reproducing all known images of the author created from life. Critical Reception Studying the critical reception of Ralph Waldo Emerson is an invaluable aid to instructors preparing a course. The ongoing critical dialogue about one of the most generative writers in literary and cultural history is enormously helpful to students as well. The bibliography in the fi rst edition of George Willis Cooke’s Ralph Waldo Emerson: His Life, Writings, and Philosophy (1881) indicates both the historical and cultural interest in Emerson’s reception. Just over one hundred years later, an astonishing volume of critical commentary on Emerson’s writing is noted by Robert E. Burkholder and Joel Myerson in Emerson: An Annotated Secondary Bibliography (1985) and by Kenneth Walter Cameron in The Emerson Tertiary Bibliography with Researcher’s Index (1986). The chapter “Emerson, Thoreau, Fuller, and Transcendentalism,” in American Literary Scholarship: An Annual (Habich), provides insights for the continuing Emerson bibliography. The most current and comprehensive bibliography of writings about Emerson (more than 1,500 entries) is available on the Web site of the Ralph Waldo Emerson Society. Sarah Ann Wider’s excellent interpretive overview of the critical reception of Emerson across the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, The Critical Reception of Emerson: Unsettling All Things, begins with an acknowledgment that any ac- count of the critical reception of Emerson (indeed any well-known author) will be “a study in exclusion” (2). Her introductory essay, “Emerson and His Audi- ences,” surveys the early accounts of the critical reception of Emerson, including Bliss Perry’s Emerson Today (1931), Frederic Ives Carpenter’s Emerson Hand- book (1953), and Milton R. Konvitz and Stephen E. Whicher’s Emerson: A Col- lection of Critical Essays (1978). Instructors and students interested in a more narrowly focused account of the critical reception of Emerson in the nineteenth century will fi nd useful Emerson and Thoreau: The Contemporary Reviews (1992), edited by Joel Myerson. In addition, a fascinating compendium of criti- cal perspectives from Emerson’s contemporaries is Bosco and Myerson’s Emer- son in His Own Time: A Biographical Chronicle of His Life, Drawn from Recol- lections, Interviews, and Memoirs by Family, Friends, and Associates (2003). A useful survey of the critical conversation about Emerson, from his time to the present, can be found in David LaRocca’s Estimating Emerson: An 8 critical reception Anthology of Criticism from Carlyle to Cavell (2013). For critical assessments of Emerson at the end of the twentieth century, Joel Porte and Saundra Mor- ris’s The Cambridge Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson (1999) chronicles the renewed critical appreciation of Emerson since the 1970s. Teachers look- ing for representative critical approaches may also fi nd useful Joel Myerson’s Emerson Centenary Essays (1982), Lawrence Buell’s Ralph Waldo Emerson: A Collection of Critical Essays (1993), Wesley T. Mott and Robert E. Burk holder’s Emer sonian Circles: Essays in Honor of Joel Myerson (1997), and Harold Bloom’s Ralph Waldo Emerson (2006). Finally, those interested in Emerson’s early reception in the anglophone world beyond the United States may consult William Sowder, Emerson’s Impact on the British Isles and Canada (1966) and Emerson’s Reviewers and Commentators (1968). Critical Studies Emerson helped to defi ne a canon of literature in the United States and the fi eld of American literary and cultural studies, and his writings continue to preoc- cupy and provoke critics, as well as critical theorists and philosophers, in the ongoing assessment of our literary and cultural heritage. In this section we have chosen critical studies that will be most useful for teachers and that have proven to be most productive in the ongoing conversation between Emerson and his readers. There is no question that F. O. Matthies sen’s American Renaissance: Art and Expression in the Age of Emerson and Whit- man (1941) was a singular infl uence in the study of Emerson as a progenitor of the American literary tradition. Subsequent assessments of Emerson’s place in the emergence of a distinctive literary tradition in the United States include Ste- phen E. Whicher’s Freedom and Fate: An Inner Life of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1953), Charles Malloy’s A Study of Emerson’s Major Poems (1973), David T. Porter’s Emerson and Literary Change (1978), Barbara L. Packer’s Emerson’s Fall: A New Interpretation of the Major Essays (1982), and Julie K. Ellison’s Emerson’s Romantic Style (1984). Each book-length study offers distinct and incisive commentaries on Emerson’s writing. Emerson’s literary and rhetorical practices are elaborated in David M. Robinson’s Apostle of Culture: Emerson as Preacher and Lecturer (1982), Lawrence Rosenwald’s Emerson and the Art of the Diary (1988), Wesley T. Mott’s “The Strains of Eloquence”: Emerson and His Sermons (1989), Susan L. Roberson’s Emerson in His Sermons: A Man-Made Self (1995), and Roger Thompson’s Emerson and the History of Rhetoric (2017). Other critical studies have considered Emerson’s use of language, including Da- vid LaRocca’s Emerson’s English Traits and the Natural History of Metaphor (2013), as well as more broadly Emerson’s contribution to the development of critical studies 9 literary language and culture in the United States, notably Richard Poirier’s The Renewal of Literature: Emersonian Refl ections (1987). The critical conversation about Emerson has, at least since Matthiessen, been concerned with Emerson’s social, cultural, political, and philosophical signifi cance. The essays in Branka Arsić and Cary Wolfe’s The Other Emerson (2010) provide an illuminating introduction to reading Emerson on subjectivity, politics, and philosophy. Instructors interested in the literary and political reso- nances of Emerson’s approach to the self should consider Quentin Anderson’s assessment in The Imperial Self: An Essay in American Literary and Cultural History (1971), as well as the later critiques of Emerson’s individualism. These critiques include David Marr’s American Worlds since Emerson (1988) and Christopher Newfi eld’s The Emerson Effect: Individualism and Submission in America (1996). In contrast, a generative elaboration of the cultural resource of democratic individualism—and of Emerson’s contribution to the development of American political philosophy—is available in two studies by the political theorist George Kateb: The Inner Ocean: Individualism and Democratic Cul- ture (1992) and Emerson and Self-Reliance (1995; reprinted with new preface and introduction 2002). The history of the critical debate over Emersonian indi- vidualism is the subject of Charles E. Mitchell’s book-length study, Individual- ism and Its Discontents: Appropriations of Emerson, 1880–1950 (1997), and a detailed study of the theory and practice of liberal culture in Emerson’s think- ing is Neal Dolan’s Emerson’s Liberalism (2009). Emerson’s political and ethical orientation is explored in Len Gougeon’s Vir- tue’s Hero: Emerson, Antislavery, and Reform (1990). Gougeon offers a correc- tive to earlier readings by turning to the materials that have become available in the new editions of Emerson’s journals, notebooks, and early lectures. Readers interested in Emerson the social reformer will also fi nd useful Eduardo Ca- dava’s Emerson and the Climates of History (1997), Albert J. von Frank’s The Trials of Anthony Burns: Freedom and Slavery in Emerson’s Boston (1998), and The Emerson Dilemma: Essays on Emerson and Social Reform (2001), edited by T. Gregory Garvey. Alan M. Levine and Daniel S. Malachuk’s A Political Companion to Ralph Waldo Emerson (2011) usefully gathers into one volume critical discussion of Emerson’s politics. Intellectual and Critical Contexts There is no more reliable and rewarding resource for understanding Emerson’s intellectual and critical contexts than the historical and textual introductions to each volume of The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson (1971–2013). The extended historical essays situate the primary documents included in each of 10 intellectual and critical contexts the volumes among the biographical, social, and political events of nineteenth- century America and as such provide instructors with indispensable intellectual and critical contexts for the classroom. The textual introductions familiarize readers with the textual histories and variations that have preoccupied editors and scholars and suggest the pedagogical signifi cance of Emerson’s writing pro- cess, and textual variations, in the classroom. Instructors and students interested in the relationship between Emerson and transcendentalism will fi nd an enormous range of useful critical commentary and analysis. The most indispensable resources include Joel Myerson, Sandra Harbert Petrulionis, and Laura Dassow Walls’s The Oxford Handbook of Tran- scendentalism (2010) and the extended discussion of the historical contexts that inform Emerson’s work in Myerson’s A Historical Guide to Ralph Waldo Emer- son (2000). Emerson is concerned with fundamental philosophical questions. It is there- fore unsurprising that philosophers since William James and George Santayana have been engaged with Emerson’s thinking. One of Emerson’s most rigorous, sympathetic, and creative readers, Stanley Cavell, offers extended readings of Emerson’s philosophical contributions in, among other writings, Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome: The Constitution of Emersonian Perfectionism (1990) and Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes (2003). In addition, Branka Arsić discusses Emerson’s emphasis on change and transformation in On Leaving: A Reading in Emerson (2010). Literary and cultural historians have also explored Emerson’s philosophical orientation and infl uence in American intellectual his- tory. These studies include Cornel West’s The American Evasion of Philosophy: A Genealogy of Pragmatism (1989), Richard Poirier’s Poetry and Pragmatism (1992), and Jonathan Levin’s The Poetics of Transition: Emerson, Pragmatism, and American Literary Modernism (1999). More specialized studies of Emer- son and philosophy are useful as well, including David Van Leer, Emerson’s Epistemology: The Argument of the Essays (1986); John Michael, Emerson and Skepticism: The Cipher of the World (1988); David Jacobson, Emerson’s Prag- matic Vision: The Dance of the Eye (1993); David M. Robinson’s Emerson and the Conduct of Life: Pragmatism and Ethical Purpose in the Later Work (1993), which is a particularly valuable guide to Emerson’s neglected later work; and Gustaaf Van Cromphout’s Emerson’s Ethics (1999). Instructors and students interested in learning more about Emerson and na- ture, natural history, and science should consult Laura Dassow Walls’s Emer- son’s Life in Science: The Culture of Truth (2003). Additional study of Emerson’s engagement with natural history, and the fascination with the aims and meth- ods of natural science that Emerson cultivated during his visit to the Jardin des Plantes in Paris, include Lee Rust Brown’s The Emerson Museum: Practical Romanticism and the Pursuit of the Whole (1997). Earlier studies of Emer- son’s idea of nature include Sherman Paul’s Emerson’s Angle of Vision: Man and Nature in American Experience (1952) and the collection of essays Emerson’s intellectual and critical contexts 11 Nature: Origin, Growth, Meaning (1969), edited by Merton M. Sealts, Jr., and Alfred R. Ferguson. A welcome context for the critical evaluation of Emerson has grown from a global perspective on his literary and cultural work. Teachers and students interested in Emerson’s transatlantic exchanges will benefi t from A Power to Translate the World: New Essays on Emerson and International Culture (2015), edited by David LaRocca and Ricardo Miguel-Alfonso—a compelling collection of readings, in a wide range of geographical and cultural contexts, that elaborates the trajectories of Emersonian thinking among non-American writers and intellectuals. Readers may also consult Emerson for the Twenty- First Century: Global Perspectives on an American Icon (2010), edited by Barry Tha raud; Emerson’s Transatlantic Romanticism (2012), by David Green- ham; and Transatlantic Transcendentalism: Coleridge, Emerson, and Nature (2013), by Samantha C. Harvey. Emerson’s cultural affi liations and literary in- fl uences beyond the United States may be further explored in Daniel Koch’s Ralph Waldo Emerson in Europe: Class, Race, and Revolution in the Making of an American Thinker (2012) and The Correspondence of Emerson and Carlyle (1964), edited by Joseph Slater. Digital Resources Instructors and students of Emerson will fi nd a range of primary material and secondary works on the Web. However, the varying quality of Web-based ma- terials and accuracy of digital editions necessitate cautious use. Although there is as yet no comprehensive electronic research and teaching resource dedicated to Emerson on the order of The Walt Whitman Archive, sites developed by the Ralph Waldo Emerson Society and digital portals at several libraries and educa- tional institutions provide access to an electronic Emerson that can supplement the study of his texts and contexts. We include here a selection of available Web sites, digital portals, and digital editions that teachers should fi nd to be both productive and appropriate for use with students. The Centenary Edition of Emerson’s Complete Works (1903–04) is available in digital format at The Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson Web site, edited by Jim Manley, as well as at the University of Michigan Library (The Complete Works), where a variety of word searches can be conducted. Project Gutenberg pro- vides access to digital editions of works by Emerson on its Emerson author page (“Books by Emerson”), and an edition of Representative Men has been digitized by the University of Virginia American Studies Program (Representative Men). Instructors and students interested in a searchable, digital version of Emer- son’s early poetry can consult the American Verse Project in the University of 12 digital resources Michigan Humanities Text Initiative (American Verse). Eugene F. Irey’s con- cordance to the Centenary Edition of Emerson’s Complete Works is available through the Concord Free Public Library Web site. And nine manuscript items are accessible through Lehigh University’s I Remain: A Digital Archive of Let- ters, Manuscripts, and Ephemera. The Ralph Waldo Emerson Society maintains a Web site that, in addition to providing extensive bibliographic references for the study of Emerson, curates a listing of digital resources available for the study of Emerson and his contem- poraries (“Related Sites”); a series of drawings, engravings, and photographs of Emerson, following his development from a young man to old age (“Images of Emerson”); and access to Emerson Society Papers dating back to the fi rst issue in 1990 (“Emerson Society Papers”). Other Web-based materials for instructors and students include the Emerson materials available at The Web of Ameri- can Transcendentalism (“Ralph Waldo Emerson”) and Paul P. Reuben’s “Ralph Waldo Emerson” page on his Web site Perspectives in American Literature. There is also an archive of video discussions about Emerson available in C-SPAN’s American Writers series, including “Emerson and the Examined Life,” featuring Robert Pinsky, Richard Geldard, and David M. Robinson. Da- vid A. Beardsley’s video biography, Emerson: The Ideal in America, includes discussions with Robert D. Richardson, Jr., and Sarah Ann Wider, among other scholars. Finally, instructors and students will benefi t from the comprehensive entry on Emerson as a philosopher by Russell Goodman in The Stanford Ency- clopedia of Philosophy, accessible on the Web. NOTE 1 We would like to acknowledge the numerous editors who contributed to The Col- lected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson: Alfred R. Ferguson, Robert E. Spiller, Joseph Slater, Douglas Emory Wilson, and Ronald A. Bosco (general editors); Robert E. Burk- holder, Jean Ferguson Carr, Joel Myerson, Philip Nicoloff, Barbara L. 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work_yna2ufc2bvbdhjutfuwg5atiru	----	PREFACE Donald Capps & Robert C. Dykstra Published online: 14 September 2010 # Springer Science+Business Media, LLC 2010 The December 2009 issue of Pastoral Psychology is comprised of articles by sixteen participants in a conference at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary in Austin, Texas, which was held in October 2008 in honor of Donald Capps, who was retiring from full-time teaching at Princeton Theological Seminary the following June. Allan Hugh Cole Jr., who teaches at Austin Seminary, hosted the conference. Many of the participants said that they appreciated this opportunity to discuss original papers in a collegial, small group environment. Shortly thereafter, we (Donald Capps and Robert Dykstra) discussed these appreciative comments over lunch. From this discussion, we decide to explore the possibility of having another conference modeled on the first. Being aware of the excellent conference facilities at Union Theological Seminary in Richmond, Virginia, and of the fact that one of the participants in the Austin conference, Carol Schweitzer, teaches there, we inquired into the availability of its facilities in October 2009 and of her interest in assisting with local arrangements. Affirmative responses were forthcoming, so we booked the facilities and invitations were sent out. We felt that the conference should reflect the spirit of self-reliance that we had embraced as a result of reading the essays of Ralph Waldo Emerson, so we did not seek funding from foundations to subsidize the conference. Instead, participants were invited on the basis that they would be expected to pay their own expenses. We were fortunate, however, to have approached Union Theological Seminary because, through its president, Brian Blount, who personally values the writings of pastoral theologians, we were accorded special consideration. All invitations were accepted, an indication of the desire of pastoral theologians for the opportunity to discuss their work in a small group setting. The name that we conceived for the participants was Group for New Directions in Pastoral Theology. This name was not intended to suggest that there is anything problematic about current directions in pastoral theology but rather to reflect the fact that the discipline of pastoral theology has always been future-oriented and we wanted the conference to reflect this orientation. We are especially grateful to Lewis Rambo for making Pastoral Psychol (2010) 59:657–658 DOI 10.1007/s11089-010-0316-5 D. Capps (*) : R. C. Dykstra Princeton Theological Seminary, Princeton, NJ 08542-0803, USA e-mail: cappsdonald@aol.com the pages of Pastoral Psychology available for the publication of the papers presented at the conference. The very prospect of publication in a highly respected journal in the field was an obvious stimulus to the conference participants. With regard to the papers, the authors are identified by their institutional affiliation and not their professional status because we wanted to maintain in publication form the egalitarian spirit of the conference itself. As the authors’ names and topics attest, the conference participants are representative of a racial, ethnic, gender, and generational diversity. The fact that all participants are located in the United States, and that a preponderance are located on the eastern sector of the country, is largely because the conference was self-funded and we had reason to believe that travel expenses would be an important factor in individuals’ acceptance of the invitation to participate. 658 Pastoral Psychol (2010) 59:657–658 PREFACE << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /None /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (Gray Gamma 2.2) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (ISO Coated v2 300% \050ECI\051) /sRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CannotEmbedFontPolicy /Error /CompatibilityLevel 1.3 /CompressObjects /Off /CompressPages true /ConvertImagesToIndexed true /PassThroughJPEGImages true /CreateJDFFile false /CreateJobTicket false /DefaultRenderingIntent /Perceptual /DetectBlends true /DetectCurves 0.0000 /ColorConversionStrategy /sRGB /DoThumbnails true /EmbedAllFonts true 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work_yslpebnb6zd7dpwubxzltalfpa	----	Introduction: Victorian Literature and Science Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 1 INTRODUCTION: VICTORIAN LITERATURE AND SCIENCE Ian Henderson (King's College London) On 5 April 2010 the New York Times sponsored a debate in its online pages: 'Can "Neuro Lit Crit" Save the Humanities?'.1 The question rose from an earlier article in the same paper on the 'Next Big Thing in English' (31 March 2010), outlining work by (among others) Professor Linda Zunshine (University of Kentucky) which merges eighteenth-century literary studies and evolutionary psychology, referencing Professor Elaine Scarry's seminars on 'Cognitive Psychology and the Arts' at Harvard, and highlighting a project at Yale led by Emeritus Professor Michael Holquist which uses MRI scans to explore the mental functioning involved in reading complex texts. Behind these projects, it was claimed, there was recognition that science not only offers unexpected insights into individual texts, but that it may help to answer fundamental questions about literature's very existence: Why do we read fiction? Why do we care so passionately about nonexistent characters? What underlying mental processes are activated when we read?2 Science, apparently, could also 'prove' the advantages for cognitive development of reading literature (part of its 'saving' function; it makes literary study 'relevant' to mental health) and there followed the startling suggestion that literary history might make manifest psychological evolution in humans. Naturally the framing of the article and subsequent question for debate prompted critical responses, but also a stimulating defence from Professor Holquist, asserting literary-scientific research looks 'beyond our balkanized academic departments': This is an exhilarating way of conceiving our subject. It connects us to our past in philology, and leads to a future enabled by recent breakthroughs in digitization and brain science. While we make the 1'Room for Debate: Can "Neuro Lit Crit" Save the Humanities?', New York Times blog, 5 April 2010,http://roomfordebate.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/04/05/can-neuro-lit-crit-save-the- humanities/?pagemode=print&scp=4&sq=literature%20and%20science&st=cse, accessed 28 April 2010. 2 Patricia Cohen, 'Next Big Thing in English: Knowing They Know That You Know', New York Times, 31 March 2010, http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/01/books/01lit.html, accessed 28 April 2010. Ian Henderson Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 2 traditional assumption that language is thought, in light of exciting new discoveries, we are now able to see more clearly the seminal importance of the activities of reading and writing for thought in general. Complexity in literacy provides cognitive value added. Understanding the truth of this better is not just another 'next big thing'. Unlike some of the more inaccessible theories that have swept through the Humanities, this focus on trying better to grasp what it is that we do when we read works having advanced levels of intricacy is the kind of study that reaches out to a wider community. It is an intellectual goal that has real life implications for the future of our society as a whole. There are three points in this statement I would like to explore by way of introducing this collection of essays on 'Victorian Literature and Science': the apparent connection between past and present approaches to literature enabled by contemporary literary-science; the contrast between literary-science and literary theory in terms of accessibility; and the assertion of literary-scientific criticism's relevance to a 'wider community' ('real life implications for the future of our society as a whole'). Indeed, it seems to me research in Victorian literature and science counteracts somewhat reactionary assertions about contemporary literary science in three important ways. Firstly, it reminds us that we have been here before: the Victorians also posed 'fundamental questions about literature's very existence' using scientific methods. Nicholas Dames, for example, in The Physiology of the Novel: reading, neural science, and the form of Victorian fiction (2007), discusses the impact of the Victorian physiology of the senses on the work of a 'coterie' of Victorian literary critics who interested themselves in the specificities of how reading affected the body, and how literary art might make use of scientific knowledge better to manipulate or even to discipline corporeal response as it unfolds in response to the stimulations of text.3 'Neuro lit crit', then, is not so much new as a revival that warrants attention to its Victorian precedent. Secondly, moreover, here is a precedent which did not shy away from contemporary theories, even where they opposed its principles. This contrasts the paradigm operating in the statement above which suggests present-day literary- scientific research enables a recovery of previously defunct philological and formalist 3 Nicholas Dames, The Physiology of the Novel: Reading, Neural Science, and the Form of Victorian Fiction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). The 'coterie' include 'G. H. Lewes, Alexander Bain, E. S. Dallas, Geraldine Jewsbury, and Vernon Lee'. Dames, Physiology, p.2. Dames describes these as 'physiological novel theorists' whose critical tradition rose in the 1850s and 1860s but yielded by the mid to late 1890s to post-Jamesian formalism. Dames, Physiology, pp.39-40. Dames also explores the application of these 'theories' in the work of his focus authors (William Thackeray, George Eliot, George Meredith and George Gissing), literary 'examples of self-conscious response to physiological novel theory's areas of concern'. Dames, Physiology, p.13 (original emphasis). Ian Henderson Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 3 approaches to literary studies by recognizing them as precursors, precursors that unfortunately failed for want of true interdisciplinarity and the latest brain scanning equipment. The implication is, what is more, that this failure (i) allowed literary theory to usurp 'scientific' approaches to literature, leading to a dark age of inaccessibility, and (ii) that by engaging with the more technologically advanced science of today, we can take up again where the precursors left off. In other words 'neuro lit crit' spans—and enables us to overlook—the theory wars. This Renaissance paradigm is belied by the innovative, not reactionary, stance of literary science's Victorian precedent. The Victorians' was not a bridge between a supposedly 'progressive' scientific present and a defunct religio-humanist past but one that understood the entanglement per se of contemporary scientific and religio- literary 'theories' to express modernity. For nineteenth-century 'scientists' were, for the most part, raised in faith, and were deeply aware of church doctrine, not least because of contemporary (highly 'relevant') controversies about dissenting and Tractarian beliefs and practices. They were cognisant of discursive 'theories' from both science and religion. Indeed literary and scientific writers and readers shared, before the nineteenth century, the same principles with which both also struggled during it. The sharing can be illuminated by Holquist's useful observation that 'Reading and writing is [sic] to humanists what nature is to physicists'.4 Prior to the materialist challenge to Christian belief, reading the human word grew out of interpretation of God's, and aspired to—if it necessarily failed to accomplish—the communion offered by divining The Word. Correspondingly, the study of nature was the elucidation of God's works. To take only one example (expediently because I know it), Bernardin de Saint-Pierre's Études de la nature (1784-88)—acclaimed if outdated even on release—had asserted closely observed moments of 'harmony' in nature (where opposites were resolved, such as in gentle breezes) were moments when the perfection of Eden re-emerged, and whereby those with sensibility might find themselves in communion with God. A similar principle, more rationally described, later underpinned nineteenth-century natural theology (as discussed by Kate Holterhoff in this collection). Phenomena in the book, and in the book of nature, therefore pointed readers backwards to Creation, forwards to the Kingdom of God, and, in the present, always already upwards. When the function of indicating the divine in reading nature and the book was removed, a crisis ensued for both Victorian literature and science. And yet literary theory represents literary studies' own continued grappling with the implications of materialism: how does literature 'work' without a God? What is the point of such work? If it is an arbitrary social construct, how precisely are its hierarchies upheld? Why have they endured? To remove such questions, and the work of those that attempted to answer them, from the story of literature's and science's re- 4 'Can "Neuro Lit Crit" Save the Humanities?' Ian Henderson Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 4 convergence, is to disregard what literary scholarship has discovered in the time of its apparent separation, to make this new body of knowledge irrelevant to the 'next big thing'—science—which, it seems, alone can make literary studies relevant by demonstrating the reading of literature's 'real life implications for the future of our society as a whole'. Society as a whole, then, seems to have replaced God as that which the study of literature must answer to; and science alone can lend it 'impact' there. Yet it is precisely by overlooking twentieth-century literary theory that we both forego those insights into the paradoxes of making meaning that illuminate the social and historic contingency of scientific writing, and give up those aspects of literary studies that chime with the counterintuitive concepts underpinning contemporary physics: by overlooking theory we give up the key (and undoubtedly difficult, 'inaccessible') principles that the disciplines continued to share while divorced. No wonder, in this view, literary studies looks like a lame duck rather than a conversant on equal footing with science. The Victorians never saw it that way. In fact, last year's bicentenary of the birth of Charles Darwin (and sesquicentenary of the publication of On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection) reminded us that science's struggle with Creationism is still with us. One does not even have to be embroiled in religious argument for 'Victorian' debates to seem relevant: a sense that nature represents 'vestiges of creation' underpins some branches of environmentalism. But the difference between twenty-first- and nineteenth-century controversies about Darwin's theory is that neither the complexity of the scientific case for evolution nor of various Christian approaches to the origins of species are as well known. Victorian literary studies can articulate that distinction and go some way to explaining the persistence of anti-evolutionary thinking. Thirdly, then, research in Victorian literature and science reminds us of what precisely is at issue in the entanglement of disciplines, and thereby enables us confidently (like the Victorians) to assert—rather than distractedly to try 'proving'—the absolute relevance of the (in truth, never-ending) dialogue between literary studies (including theory) and science. The literary critical engagement with Victorian scientific writing has become familiar practice in Victorian studies at least since Gillian Beer's seminal work Darwin's Plots: Evolutionary Narrative in Darwin, George Eliot and Nineteenth- Century Fiction (1983). Its relevance to my own research came much later. I must admit to being surprised to have found myself in 2007 ensconced in London's Wellcome Library reading Hermann von Helmoltz's Handbook of Physiological Optics (1856, 1860, 1866), an endpoint for a research trajectory that had taken me from Australian colonial literary culture, through British representations of the Australasian colonies to Victorian visual science and the late nineteenth-century science of reading. As well as Victorian literary studies' engagement with Victorian psychology (pioneered by the work of Jenny Bourne Taylor), the already well populated field of studies in Victorian visuality also proved increasingly relevant to Ian Henderson Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 5 my work. From that personal odyssey it is tempting to acknowledge a general trend. Self-centred though that may be, again it would be a mistake, nonetheless, to figure the scientific turn in Victorian studies as a turning away from theory. If anything it is literary theory that has enabled such an engagement with a broader range of contexts. What pleases me about the present collection is that outstanding postgraduate research now begins with self-evident familiarity with Victorian scientific principles and their relevance to literary history, as well as grounding in what theory has taught us over the last half century. The work in this collection assumes that melding of primary research in Victorian science and the theoretically informed perspectives of twenty-first century literary studies. What excites me is that such a foundation sets the scene for an admittedly more challenging engagement with the work of Victorian science's descendants: today's biologists, neuroscientists, geneticists and others. Our challenge in Victorian Studies, then, is to take our cognisance of literary theory and relatively new interest in historic science as we train ourselves to speak the technical language of contemporary science, to help make our research relevant to scientists who are quite a worthy enough component of that 'whole society' to warrant the attention. * Darwin is a natural focal point for any present-day literary engagement with Victorian science. But in the mêlée of his 200th anniversary, one of his key works, The Descent of Man, has been neglected, not least for the moral discomfort it brings modern readers: if postcolonialism provides insight here it also demands we confront the fact that Darwin the future's hero was also a man of his time. Kate Holterhoff in this collection goes some way towards righting the balance, with an insightful discussion of the meaning of 'beauty' in Darwin's 1871 work, while highlighting the difficult intersection of Darwin's use of the term and cultural assumptions about gender and race underpinning his work. Meanwhile, bringing museology to bear upon the work of Darwin and Ralph Waldo Emerson, Lauren F. Klein reveals some of the principles of inquiry shared by these otherwise divergent writers. If Darwin's sheer literariness makes him as attractive a scientist to literary scholars of the nineteenth century as Freud is to critics of later periods, Lewis Carroll must be the nineteenth century's most beloved writer of literature for scientists of many domains. The temptation for mathematicians, logicians, physicists and other scientists to play in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, rendered almost irresistible by Martin Gardner's The Annotated Alice (1960), is renewed by Joanna Shawn Brigid O'Leary's enticing revelations about Carroll's awareness of, and toying with, the discoveries of Victorian chemistry. These illuminate, at the same time as they are conditioned by, the variegated commentary on reflection she explores in Carroll's Looking-glass world. From chemistry to geology, E. E. Snyder outlines the impact for Tennyson of that field which first challenged Creationism in an article which also elucidates different Ian Henderson Victorian Network Volume 2, Number 1 (Summer 2010) 6 interpretations within geological discourse of how present formations came to be as they are. Kanarakis Yannis confirms the pervasiveness of science's influence in the nineteenth century by articulating Walter Pater's debts to its rhetoric: even the aesthete would figure himself a scientist. It has been an honour to be tangentially involved with the editing of this collection. Allow me to end by thanking the hard-working editorial team—Katharina Boehm, Sarah Crofton, Rosalyn Gregory, Tammy Ho Lai-Ming, Ceri Hunter, Matt Kerr and William Tattersdill—for their handling of that delicate and time-consuming process. Broad though 'Victorian Literature and Science' as a theme appears, it is a title that belies both the true range and the multivocal nature of the work represented here. 
work_yv5qunbkp5fxpkobnl3y3cxmt4	----	Microsoft Word - opr02DE9.doc This article was published in the Spring 2002 issue (pp.63-71) of Ethical Human Sciences and Services: An International Journal of Critical Inquiry, edited by David Cohen (E-mail address:cohenda@fiu.edu) ELECTROSHOCK: A CRIME AGAINST THE SPIRIT Leonard Roy Frank San Francisco, California Offprints: Requests for offprints should be directed to Leonard Roy Frank, B.S., 2300 Webster Street, #603, San Francisco, CA 94115. Note: This article is based on my testimony at a public hearing on electroconvulsive “treatment” conducted by the Mental Health Committee of the New York State Assembly in Manhattan on May 18, 2001. I was representing Support Coalition International, a human rights group headquartered in Eugene, Oregon. SCI unites 100 sponsoring organizations that oppose all forms of psychiatric oppression and support a broad variety of approaches for assisting people said to be “mentally ill.” In 2001, the United Nations recognized Support Coalition International as “a Non-Governmental Organization with Consultative Roster Status.” For more information about Support Coalition International and electroshock, see http://www.MindFreedom.org (phone 541-345- 9106) and http://www.ect.org. In remembrance lies the secret of redemption. Bal Shem Tov (1690-1760), founder of Hasidism (cited in Lieberman, 2001) INTRODUCTION Some personal background will be helpful in understanding my perspective on electroshock. I was born in 1932 in Brooklyn and was raised there. After graduating from the Wharton School at the University of Pennsylvania, I served in the U.S. Army and then worked as a real estate salesman for several years. In 1962, three years after moving to San Francisco, I was diagnosed as a “paranoid schizophrenic,” involuntarily institutionalized, and eventually subjected by force to 50 insulin coma and 35 electroconvulsive procedures (Frank, 1976, 1978, 1990, 1993). “Combined insulin coma-convulsive treatment” was routinely administered to “schizophrenics” in the U.S. from the late 1930s through the mid-1960s. (The electroconvulsive “treatments” are given while the subject is in the coma phase of the insulin coma “treatments”; sometimes the two procedures are given separately on alternating days.) Individual sessions last from four to five hours. Large doses of injected insulin reduce the blood’s sugar content triggering a physiological crisis manifested in the subject by blood pressure, breathing, heart, pulse, and temperature irregularities; flushing and pallor; “hunger excitement”; incontinence and vomiting; moans and screams (referred to in the professional literature as “noisy excitement”); sobbing, salivation, and sweating; severe restlessness; shaking and spasms, and sometimes convulsions. The crisis intensifies as the subject, after three or four hours, goes into a coma. Brain-cell destruction occurs when the blood can no longer provide the sugar essential to the brain’s survival; the sugar-starved brain begins feeding on itself for nourishment. The hour-long coma phase of the procedure ends with the administration of carbohydrates (glucose and sugar) by mouth, injection or stomach tube. If the subjects cannot be restored to consciousness by this method, they go into what are called “prolonged comas,” which result in even more severe brain damage and sometimes death. According to the United States Public Health Service Shock Therapy Survey (October 1941), 122 state hospitals reported 121 deaths among 2,457 insulin coma treatment cases, or 4.9% (Ebaugh, 1943, pp. 294-295). After gaining my freedom, I made a determined effort to find out how psychiatrists justified their use of this procedure. One of the clearest statements I uncovered came from Manfred Sakel, the Austrian psychiatrist who introduced the insulin method in 1933 and, after arriving in the United States a few years later, became its most active promoter. In a popular book on the state of psychiatry published in 1942, Dr. Sakel was quoted as follows: “With chronic schizophrenics, as with confirmed criminals, we can't hope for reform. Here the faulty pattern of functioning is irrevocably entrenched. Hence we must use more drastic measures to silence the dysfunctioning [brain] cells and so liberate the activity of the normal cells. This time we must kill the too vocal dysfunctioning cells. But can we do this without killing normal cells also? Can we select the cells we wish to destroy? I think we can” (cited in Ray, 1942, p. 250, italics in the original). Of course, I did not see it that way. For me, combined insulin coma-convulsive treatment was an attempt to break my spirit, to force on me a belief system and lifestyle which I, of my own free will, had rejected. It was also the most devastating, painful and humiliating experience of my life. My memory for the three preceding years was gone. The wipe-out in my mind was like a path cut across a heavily chalked blackboard with a wet eraser. Afterwards I did not know that John F. Kennedy was president although he had been elected three years earlier. There were also big chunks of memory loss for events and periods spanning my entire life; my high school and college education was effectively destroyed. I felt that every part of me was less than what it had been. Following years of study reeducating myself, I became active in the psychiatric survivors movement, becoming a staff member of Madness Network News (1972) and co-founding the Network Against Psychiatric Assault (1974)—both based in San Francisco and dedicated to ending abuses in the psychiatric system. In 1978 I edited and published The History of Shock Treatment. Since 1995, three books of quotations I edited have been published: Influencing Minds, Random House Webster’s Quotationary, and Random House Webster’s Wit & Humor Quotationary. Over the last thirty-five years I have researched the various shock procedures, particularly electroshock or ECT (the focus of the remaining part of this paper), have spoken with hundreds of ECT survivors, and have corresponded with many others. From all these sources and my own experience, I have concluded that ECT—which “between 1 and 2 million patients per year receive... worldwide” (Abrams, 1997, p. 9)—is a brutal, dehumanizing, memory-destroying, intelligence-lowering, brain- damaging, brainwashing, life-threatening technique. ECT robs people of their memories, their personality and their humanity. It reduces their capacity to lead full, meaningful lives; it crushes their spirits. Put simply, electroshock is a method for gutting the brain in order to control and punish people who fall or step out of line, and intimidate others who are on the verge of doing so (See Frank 1978, 1990, 1993; Morgan, 1999). BRAIN DAMAGE Brain damage is the most important effect of ECT. It is also the 800-pound gorilla in the living room whose existence psychiatrists refuse to acknowledge, at least publicly. Nowhere is this more clearly illustrated than in the American Psychiatric Association’s recent Task Force Report on ECT (APA, 2001) which states that “in light of the accumulated body of data dealing with structural effects of ECT, ‘brain damage’ should not be included [in the ECT consent form] as a potential risk of treatment” (p. 102). Excluded from the Task Force’s “accumulated body of data” were the following facts: During the 1940s, when some proponents were a bit careless with the truth about ECT, Paul H. Hoch, co-author of a major psychiatric textbook and New York State’s Commissioner of Mental Hygiene, commented, “This brings us for a moment to a discussion of the brain damage produced by electroshock.... Is a certain amount of brain damage not necessary in this type of treatment? Frontal lobotomy indicates that improvement takes place by a definite damage of certain parts of the brain” (Hoch, 1948, p. 49). More recently, neurologist Sidney Sament (1983) backed the brain-damage charge in a letter to a professional journal: After a few sessions of ECT the symptoms are those of moderate cerebral contusion, and further enthusiastic use of ECT may result in the patient functioning at a subhuman level. Electroconvulsive therapy in effect may be defined as a controlled type of brain damage produced by electrical means.... In all cases the ECT “response” is due to the concussion-type, or more serious, effect of ECT. The patient “forgets” his symptoms because the brain damage destroys memory traces in the brain, and the patient has to pay for this by a reduction in mental capacity of varying degree (p. 11). Psychiatrist Peter R. Breggin (1998), ECT’s foremost critic, summarized his findings on electroshock’s brain-damaging effects after having studied the scientific evidence for more than 30 years (see Breggin, 1979, 1981, 1991, 1992, 1997, 2001): [Brain] damage is demonstrated in many large animal studies, human autopsy studies, brain wave studies, and an occasional CT scan study. Animal and human autopsy studies show that ECT routinely causes widespread pinpoint hemorrhages and scattered cell death. While the damage can be found throughout the brain it is often worst in the region beneath the electrodes. Since at least one electrode always lies over the frontal lobe, it is no exaggeration to call ECT an electrical lobotomy (p. 15). Additional evidence of ECT-caused brain damage was published in an 1978 APA Task Force Report on ECT. Forty-one percent of a large group of psychiatrists responding to a questionnaire agreed with the statement that ECT produces “slight or subtle brain damage.” Only 28% disagreed (p. 4). And finally there is the evidence from the largest published survey of ECT-related deaths (Impastato, 1957). Psychiatrist David J. Impastato was a leading ECT proponent who, interestingly enough, was the first to use the procedure in the United States, in January 1940. He reported 66 “cerebral” deaths among the 235 cases in which he was able to determine the likely cause of death following ECT (p. 34). MEMORY LOSS If brain damage is electroshock’s most important effect, memory loss is its most obvious one. Such loss can be, and often is, disastrous as these statements from electroshock survivors indicate: My memory is terrible, absolutely terrible. I can’t even remember Sarah’s first steps, and that’s really hurtful... losing the memory of the kids growing up was awful. I can be reading a magazine and I get halfway through or nearly to the end and I can’t remember what it’s about, so I’ve got to read it all over again. People would come up to me in the street that knew me and would tell me how they knew me and I had no recollection of them at all... very frightening (cited in Johnstone, 1999, p. 78). Electroshock proponents are dismissive of the memory problems associated with their procedure. The following is from the sample ECT consent form in the APA’s 2001 Task Force Report: “The majority of patients state that the benefits of ECT outweigh the problems with memory. Furthermore, most patients report that their memory is actually improved after ECT. Nonetheless, a minority of patients report problems in memory that remain for months or even years” (pp. 321-322). Nowhere in the text of the report is the claim made in the first sentence directly addressed, while the assertion in the second sentence is patently absurd. The claim made in the third sentence, at least, is closer to the truth than coverage of the same point in the sample consent form of the first edition of the APA’s 1990 Task Force Report, which reads: “A small minority of patients, perhaps 1 in 200, report severe problems in memory that remain for months or even years” (p. 158). And even the more recent Report underestimates the prevalence of memory loss among ECT survivors. Accounts from the hundreds of survivors I have communicated with over the last three decades suggest that the majority experienced memory loss from electroshock that was permanent in nature and moderate to severe in degree; not just for the time surrounding the “treatment” period but covering years of their lives. That findings such as these do not appear in published ECT studies may be explained by the bias of electroshock investigators, virtually all of whom are ECT proponents, by denial (from ECT-induced brain damage) on the part of survivors and their fear of punitive sanctions if they were to report the extent and persistence of their memory loss, and finally by the difficulty in having anything published in a mainstream professional journal that seriously threatens the vested interests of an important segment of the psychiatric community (the 1978 APA Task Force Report on ECT suggested that 22% of all psychiatrists were electroshock “users.” p. 5). DEATH The APA’s 2001 Task Force Report on ECT states, “a reasonable current estimate is that the rate of ECT-related mortality is 1 per 10,000 patients” (p. 59). However, other accounts suggest that the ECT death rate may be 1 per 100—100 times greater than the Task Force estimate. For example, in Texas, where psychiatrists are required to report all deaths that occur within 14 days of ECT, officials at the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation said that between 1993 and 1996 they had received reports of 21 deaths among an estimated 2,000 patients (Boodman, 1996, p. 20). Even the 1% estimate, however, may understate the true risk of death from ECT because elderly persons are now being electroshocked in growing numbers: statistics based on California’s mandated ECT reporting system indicate that upwards of 50% of all ECT patients are 60 years of age and older. Because of infirmity and disease, the elderly are more vulnerable to ECT’s life-threatening dangers than younger people. One study involving 65 patients aged 80 and older who were hospitalized for major depression, showed a much higher risk of death from ECT. The patients were divided into two groups. One group of 37 patients was treated with ECT; the other group of 28 patients was treated with antidepressants. After one year, one patient (4%) in the antidepressant group was dead, while in the ECT group, 10 patients (27%) were dead (Kroessler & Fogel, 1993, p. 30). BRAINWASHING The term “brainwashing” came into use during the early 1950s. It identified the technique of intensive indoctrination, combining psychological and physical pressure, developed by the Chinese for use on political dissidents following the Communist takeover on the mainland and on American prisoners of war during the Korean War. While electroshock is not used overtly against political dissidents, it is used throughout most of the world against cultural dissidents, nonconformists, social misfits and the unhappy (the troubling and the troubled), whom psychiatrists diagnose as “mentally ill” in order to justify ECT as a medical intervention. Indeed, electroshock is a classic example of brainwashing in the most meaningful sense of the term. Brainwashing means washing the brain of its contents. Electroshock destroys memories and ideas by destroying the brain cells which store them. As psychiatrists J. C. Kennedy and David Anchel, both ECT proponents, described the effects of this tabula rasa “treatment” in 1948: “Their minds seem like clean slates upon which we can write” (p. 318). Soon after published accounts of the erasure of 18 minutes from secret White House audiotapes during the Watergate investigation, another electroshock psychiatrist reported, “Recent memory loss [from ECT] could be compared to erasing a tape recording” (Arnot, 1975, p. 500). For these reasons, I propose that the procedure now called electroconvulsive treatment (ECT) be renamed electroconvulsive brainwashing (ECB). And ECB may be putting it too mildly. We might ask ourselves, Why is it that 10 volts of electricity applied to a political prisoner’s private parts is seen as torture while 10 or 15 times that amount applied to the brain is called “treatment”? Perhaps the acronym “ECT” should be retained with the “T” standing for torture—electroconvulsive torture. SEVEN REASONS FOR THE PERSISTENCE OF ECT IN PSYCHIATRY If electroshock is an atrocity, as I and other critics maintain, how can its use on more than 6 million Americans since being introduced more than 60 years ago be explained? Here are seven reasons: 1. ECT is a money-maker. Psychiatrists specializing in ECT earn $300,000-500,000 a year compared with other psychiatrists whose mean annual income is $150,000. An in-hospital ECT series costs anywhere from $50,000-$75,000. A 1988-89 APA survey estimated that 100,000 Americans undergo ECT annually. Based on this figure, I estimate that electroshock in this country alone is a $5 billion-a-year industry. 2. ECT supports the biological model. ECT reinforces the psychiatric belief system, the linchpin of which is the biological model of mental illness. This model centers on the brain and reduces most serious personal problems down to genetic, physical, hormonal, and/or biochemical defects which call for biological treatment of one kind or another. The biological approach covers a spectrum of physical treatments, at one end of which are psychiatric drugs, at the other end is psychosurgery (which is still being used, although infrequently), with electroshock falling somewhere between the two. The brain as psychiatry’s focus of attention and treatment is not a new idea. What Swiss psychiatrist Carl G. Jung wrote in 1916 applies today: “The dogma that ‘mental diseases are diseases of the brain’ is a hangover from the materialism of the 1870s. It has become a prejudice which hinders all progress, with nothing to justify it”(Jung, 1969). Eighty-five years later, there is still nothing in the way of scientific evidence to support the brain-disease notion. The tragic irony is that the psychiatric profession makes unsubstantiated claims that mental illness is caused by a brain disease (or is, in fact, a brain disease) while hotly denying that electroshock causes brain damage, the evidence for which is overwhelming. 3. Informed consent about ECT does not exist. While outright force is no longer commonly used in the administration of ECT, genuine informed consent today is never obtained because ECT candidates can be coerced into “accepting” the procedure (in a locked psychiatric facility, it is often “an offer that can’t be refused”) and because electroshock specialists refuse to accurately inform ECT candidates and their families of the procedure’s nature and effects. ECT specialists lie not only to the parties vitally concerned, they lie to themselves and to each other. Eventually they come to believe their own lies, and when they do, they become even more persuasive to the naïve and uninformed. As Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote in 1852, “A man cannot dupe others long who has not duped himself first.” Here is an instance of evil so deeply ingrained that it is no longer recognized as such by the perpetrators themselves. Instead we see such outrages as ECT specialist Robert E. Peck titling his 1974 book, The Miracle of Shock Treatment and Max Fink, a leading ECT proponent who for many years edited Convulsive Therapy (now called The Journal of ECT), the most influential journal in the field, telling a Washington Post reporter that “ECT is one of God’s gifts to mankind” (cited in Boodman, 1996, p. 16). 4. ECT serves as backup for “treatment-resistant” psychiatric drug users. Many, if not most, of those being electroshocked today are suffering from the ill effects of a trial run or long-term use of antidepressant, anti-anxiety, neuroleptic, and/or stimulant drugs. When such effects become obvious, the patient, the patient’s family, or the treating psychiatrist may refuse to continue the drug-treatment program. This helps explain why ECT is so necessary in modern psychiatric practice: it is the treatment of next resort. It is psychiatry’s way of burying mistakes without killing the patients—at least not too often. Growing use and failure of psychiatric-drug treatment has forced psychiatry to rely more and more on ECT as a way of dealing with difficult, complaining patients, who are usually hurting more from the drugs than from their original problems. And when the ECT fails to “work,” there’s always— following an initial series—more ECT (prophylactic ECT administered periodically to outpatients), or more drug treatment, or a combination of the two. That drugs and ECT are for practical purposes the only methods psychiatry offers to, or imposes on, those who seek “treatment” or for whom treatment is sought is further evidence of the profession’s clinical and moral bankruptcy. 5. Psychiatrists account to no one. Psychiatry has become a “Teflon profession”: what little criticism there is of it does not stick. Psychiatrists routinely carry out brutal acts of inhumanity and no one calls them on it—not the courts, not the government, not the people. Psychiatry has become an out-of- control profession, a rogue profession, a paradigm of authority without responsibility, which is a good working definition of tyranny. 6. The government supports the use of ECT. The federal government stand by passively as psychiatrists continue to electroshock American citizens in direct violation of some of their most fundamental freedoms, including freedom of conscience, freedom of thought, freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom from assault, and freedom from cruel and unusual punishment. The government also actively supports ECT through the licensing and funding of hospitals where the procedure is used, by covering ECT costs in its insurance programs (including Medicare), and by financing ECT research (including some of the most damaging ECT techniques ever devised). One recent study provides an example of such research. This ECT experiment was conducted at Wake Forest University School of Medicine/North Carolina Baptist Hospital, Winston-Salem, between 1995 and 1998 (McCall, Reboussin, Weiner, & Sackeim, 2000). It involved the use of electric current at up to 12 times the individual’s convulsive threshold on 36 depressed patients. The destructive element in ECT is the current that causes the convulsion: the more electrical energy, the greater the brain damage. This reckless disregard for the safety of ECT subjects was supported by grants from the National Institute of Mental Health (p. 43). 7. Professionals and the media actively and passively support the use of ECT. Electroshock could never have become a major psychiatric procedure without the active collusion and silent acquiescence of tens of thousands of psychiatrists and other allied health professionals. Many of them know better; all of them should know better. The active and passive cooperation of the media has also played an essential role in expanding the use of electroshock. Amidst a barrage of propaganda from the psychiatric profession, the media passes on the claims of ECT proponents almost without challenge. The occasional critical articles are one-shot affairs, with no follow-up, which the public quickly forgets. With so much controversy surrounding this procedure, one would think that some investigative reporters would key on to the story, but until now this has been a rare occurrence. And the silence continues to drown out the voices of those who need to be heard. I am reminded of Martin Luther King’s 1963 “Letter from Birmingham City Jail,” in which he wrote, “We shall have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people” (cited in Washington, 1986, p. 296). CONCLUSION Especially in these perilous times, Dr. King’s words need to be taken seriously. While electroshock is being used anywhere on anyone and I am free to express my views, I will continue to write and speak the truth about electroshock. I will do so not only on behalf of those of us who have survived electroshock more or less intact, but on behalf of those who are right now undergoing ECT or who will be faced with the prospect of undergoing ECT at some time in the future. I will also do so on behalf of the silenced ones, the ones whose lives have been ruined, and the ones who died—the true victims of electroshock, all of whom bear witness through my words. By way of summary, I will close with a short paragraph and with a poem I wrote in 1989. If the body is the temple of the spirit, the brain may be seen as the inner sanctum of the body, the holiest of holy places. To invade, violate, and injure the brain, as electroshock unfailingly does, is a crime against the spirit and a desecration of the soul. Aftermath With “therapeutic” fury search-and-destroy doctors using instruments of infamy conduct electrical lobotomies in little Auschwitzes called mental hospitals. Electroshock specialists brainwash their apologists whitewash as silenced screams echo from pain-treatment rooms down corridors of shame. Selves diminished we return to a world of narrowed dreams piecing together memory fragments for the long journey ahead. From the roadside dead-faced onlookers awash in deliberate ignorance sanction the unspeakable— Silence is complicity is betrayal. References Abrams, R. (1997). Electroconvulsive therapy (3rd ed.). New York: Oxford University Press. American Psychiatric Association Task Force on ECT. (1978). Electroconvulsive therapy. Washington, DC: APA. American Psychiatric Association Task Force on ECT. (1990). The practice of electroconvulsive therapy: Recommendations for treatment, training, and privileging (1st ed.). Washington, DC: APA. American Psychiatric Association Task Force on ECT. (2001). The practice of electroconvulsive therapy: Recommendations for treatment, training, and privileging (2nd ed.). Washington, DC: APA. Arnot, R. E. (1975). Observations on the effects of electric convulsive treatment in man— Psychological. Diseases of the Nervous System, 36, 499-502. Boodman, S. G. (1996, September 24).Shock therapy: It’s back. Washington Post (Health Section), 14-20. Breggin, P. R. (1979). Electroshock: It’s brain-disabling effects. New York: Springer Publishing. Breggin, P. R. (1981). Disabling the brain with electroshock. In M. Dongier and E. D. Wittkower (Eds.), Divergent views in psychiatry (pp. 247-271). Hagerstown, Maryland: Harper & Row. Breggin, P. R. (1991). “Shock treatment is not good for your brain.” Toxic psychiatry: Why therapy, empathy, and love must replace the drugs, electroshock, and biochemical theories of the “new psychiatry” (pp.184-215). New York: St. Martin’s Press. Breggin, P. R. (1992). The return of ECT. Readings: A Journal of Reviews and Commentary in Mental Health, 7, 12-17. Breggin, P. R. (1997). Electroshock for depression. Brain- disabling treatments in psychiatry: Drugs, electroshock and the role of the FDA (pp. 129-156). New York: Springer Publishing. Breggin, P. R. (1998). Electroshock: scientific, ethical, and political issues. International Journal of Risk & Safety in Medicine. 11, 5-40. Breggin, P. R. (2001). From lobotomy to electroshock and brain stimulation. The anti-depressant fact book: What your doctor won’t tell you about Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, Celexa, and Luvox (pp. 153-167). Cambridge, Massachusetts: Perseus Books. Ebaugh, F. G. (1943). A review of the drastic shock therapies in the treatment of the psychoses. Annals of Internal Medicine, 18, 279-296. Emerson, R. W. (1990). The journals and miscellaneous notebooks of Ralph Waldo Emerson. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, vol. 13 (1852). Frank, L. R. (1976). The Frank papers. In J. M. Friedberg, Shock is not good for your brain (pp. 62-81). San Francisco: Glide Publications. Frank, L. R. (Ed.) (1978). The history of shock treatment. San Francisco: self-published. Frank, L. R. (1990). Electroshock: Death, brain damage, memory loss, and brainwashing. Journal of Mind and Behavior, 11, 489-512. Frank, L. R. ( 1993). From victim to revolutionary: An interview with Leonard Frank. In S. Farber, Madness, heresy, and the rumor of angels: The revolt against the mental health system (pp. 190-240). Chicago: Open Court. Hoch, P. H. (1948). Discussion and concluding remarks. Journal of Personality, 17, 48-51. Impastato, D. J. (1957). Prevention of fatalities in electroshock therapy. Diseases of the Nervous System, 18 (suppl.), 34-75. Johnstone, L. (1999). Adverse psychological effects of ECT. Journal of Mental Health, 8, 69-85. Jung, C.G. (1969). General aspects of dream pychology (1916). The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche (2nd ed.) (p. 279). Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. Kennedy, J. C., & Anchel, D. (1948). Regressive electric-shock in schizophrenics refractory to other shock therapies. Psychiatric Quarterly, 22, 317-320. Kroessler, D., & Fogel, B. (1993). Electroconvulsive therapy for major depression in the oldest old. American Journal of Geriatric Psychiatry, 1, 30-37. Lieberman, H. (2001, April). Speech, Washington, D.C. Television rebroadcast, C-SPAN McCall, W. V., Reboussin, D. M., Weiner, R. D., & Sackeim, H. A. (2000). Titrated moderately suprathreshold vs. fixed high- dose right unilateral electroconvulsive therapy: Acute antidepressant and cognitive effects. Archives of General Psychiatry, 57, 438-444. Morgan, R. F. (Ed.) (1999). Electroshock: The case against. Mangilao, Guam: Morgan Foundation Publishers. (With P. R. Breggin, L. R. Frank, J. M. Friedberg, B. P. Karon, B. Roueché.) Ray, M. B. (1942). Doctors of the mind: The story of psychiatry. Boston: Little, Brown, and Company. Sament, S. (1983, March). Letter to the editor. Clinical Psychiatry News. Washington, J. M. (Ed.) (1986). The essential writings and speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco. 
work_zdogn7bjqzarvked4c57fzsxcm	----	CHH volume 62 issue 2 Cover and Front matter C HURCH HISTORY A M E R I C A N S O C I E T Y O F C H U R C H H I S T O R Y , J U N E , 1993 Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core T H E AMERICAN SOCIETY OF CHURCH HISTORY PRESIDENT NATHAN O. H A T C H , T h e University o f Notre D a m e PRESIDENT-ELECT S T E P H E N J . S T E I N , I n d i a n a University SECRETARY-TREASURER H E N R Y W. B O W D E N , Rutgers University ASSISTANT SECRETARY S T U A R T C. H E N R V , T h e Divinity School, Duke University EDITORS J E R A L D C. B R A U E R T h e Divinity School, University o f Chicago M A R T I N E . M A R T Y MEMBERS OF THE COUNCIL Class o f 1 9 9 3 P E T E R KAUFMAN E U G E N E Y . L O W E , J R . J . REBECCA LYMAN S T E P H E N A . MARINI J A N S H I P P S Class o f 1 9 9 4 J . W A Y N E B A K E R E D I T H L . B L U M H O F E R D A N I E L W . H O W E W A L T E R L . M O O R E RANDI W A L K E R Class o f 1 9 9 5 CHARLES H A M B R I C K - S T O W E D A L E A . J O H N S O N PAULA M . KANE BERNARD M C G I N N ANNE C. R O S E T h e Society was f o u n d e d in 1 8 8 8 by Philip Schaff, was reorganized in 1 9 0 6 , and was i n c o r p o r a t e d by act o f the Legislature o f the State o f New Y o r k in 1 9 1 6 . Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core Vol.62 June 1993 No. 2 CHURCH HISTORY Published quarterly by THE AMERICAN SOCIETY OF CHURCH HISTORY 1993, The American Society of Church History Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core CHURCH HISTORY EDITORS JERALD C BKAUER T h e D i v i n i t S c h o o i University of Chicago MARTIN E. MARTY 7 / a with the cooperation of JANE D. DOUGLASS, Princeton Theological Seminary MARK U. EDWARDS, J R . , The Divinity School, Harvard University ROBERT T. HANDY, Union Theological Seminary BERNARD MCGINN, The Divinity School, University of Chicago RICHARD A. NORRIS, Union Theological Seminary ALBERT J. RABOTEAU, Princeton University JOHN F. WILSON, Princeton University assistants to the editors JULIA A. CRUTCHFIELD MlCHELE ROSENTHAL Church History is published quarterly in March, June, September, and December by the American Society of Church History. Subscription prices are $30.00 a year (persons having been society members for five years and now retired from professional life—$15.00; dues free for graduate students with the approval of a professor who is a member of the Society); $8.00 for single issues; $7.00 per year extra should be added for foreign countries. Please make all remittances payable to the American Society of Church History. Subscription applications, renewals, changes of address, claims for missing numbers, and orders for single copies of current or back issues should be sent to Henry W. Bowden, P.O. 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Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS 163 The Uses of the Body: The Church and the Cult of Santa Margherita da Cortona DANIEL BORNSTEIN 178 "Cum Status Ecclesie Noster Sit": Florence and the Council of Pisa (1409) ALISON WILLIAMS LEWIN 190 William and Ralph Waldo Emerson and the Problem of the Lord's Supper: The Influence of German "Historical Speculators" ELISABETH HURTH 207 Gustavo Juan Franceschi and the Jews: The Overcoming of Prejudice by an Argentine Prelate ALLAN METZ 221 The Ambiguities of Academic Freedom GEORGE M. MARSDEN 237 Book Reviews Rubenson, Samuel, The Letters of St. Antony: Origenist Theology, Monastic Tradition and the Making of a Saint Robin Darling Young Kinzig, Wolfram, In Search ofAsterius: Studies on the Authorship of the Homilies on the Psalms William G. Rusch Amidon, Philip R., ed., The "Panarion" of St. Epiphanius, Bishop of Salamis: Selected Passages Craig L. Hanson Chadwick, Henry, trans., Saint Augustine: Confessions T h o m a s Renna Muhlberger, Steven, The Fifth-Century Chroniclers: Prosper, Hydatius, and the Gallic Chronicler of 452 Harry Rosenberg Ferguson, Everett, et al., eds., Encyclopedia of Early Christianity Henry Chadwick Hunter, David G., ed., Preaching in the Patristic Age: Studies in Honor of Walter J. Burghardt, S.J Donald F. Winslow Head, Thomas, Hagiography and the Cult of Saints: The Diocese of Orleans, 800-1200 Craig L. Hanson Lapidge, Michael and Winterbottom, Michael, eds., Wulfstan of Winchester, Life of St. /Ethelwold Richard W. Pfaff Fichtenau, Heinrich, Living in the Tenth Century: Mentalities and Social Orders Harry Rosenberg Brufani, Stefano, Sacrum commercium sancti Francisci cum domina Paupertate Paul Lachance, O.F.M. Richard, Jean, Saint Louis, Crusader King of France T h o m a s Head Hughes, Christopher, On a Complex Theory of a Simple God: An Investigation in Aquinas' Philosophical Theology Eugene TeSelle Richards, Jeffrey, Sex, Dissidence and Damnation: Minority Groups in the Middle Ages J a m e s A. B r u n d a g e Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core Miethke, Jiirgen, and Biihler, Arnold, eds., Kaiser und Papst im Konflikt: Zum Verhaltnis von Stoat und Kirche im spdten Mittelalter Donald D. Sullivan Rodwell, Warwick, The Archaeology of Religious Places: Churches and Cemeteries in Britain Richard W. PfafF Sigmund, Paul E., ed., Nicholas ofCusa: The Catholic Concordance Gerald Christianson Partner, Peter, The Pope's Men: The Papal Civil Service in the Renaissance Richard F. Costigan, S.J. Cesareo, Francesco C , Humanism and Catholic Reform: The Life and Work of Gregorio Cortese (1483-1548) Ralph Keen Wandel, Lee Palmer, Always Among Us: Images of the Poor in Zwingli's Zurich J . Wayne Baker Schreiner, Susan E., The Theater of His Glory: Nature and the Natural Order in the Thought of John Calvin Robert M. Kingdon Leith, J o h n H.,John Calvin's Doctrine of the Christian Life J . Wayne Baker Coats, Catherine Randall, Subverting the System: D'Aubigne and Calvinism Carlos M. N. Eire Holifield, E. Brooks, Era of Persuasion: American Thought and Culture 1521-1680 Charles L. Cohen Fincham, Kenneth, Prelate as Pastor: The Episcopate of James I Cecile Zinberg Signorotto, Gianvittorio, Inquisitori e mistici nel Seicento ilaliano. L'eresia di Santa Pelagia Kurt Belsole Kors, Alan Charles, Atheism in France: 1650-1729. Volume 1: The Orthodox Sources of Disbelief Charles B. Paris Adams, Leonard, ed., William Wake's Gallican Correspondence and Related Documents, 1716-1731 Richard F. Costigan, S.J. Kinkel, Gary, Our Dear Mother The Spirit: An Investigation of Count Zinzendorfs Theology and Praxis C . J o h n Weborg Rack, Henry D., Reasonable Enthusiast: John Wesley and the Rise of Methodism Steven D. Cooley Abelove, Henry, The Evangelist of Desire: John Wesley and the Methodists E. Dale Dunlap Veto, Miklos, La pensee de Jonathan Edwards Roland A. Delattre Harding, Vincent, A Certain Magnificence: Lyman Beecher and the Transformation of American Protestantism, 1775-1863 J a m e s E.Johnson Snyder, Stephen H., Lyman Beecher and His Children J a m e s E.Johnson Jessee, Dean C , ed., The Papers of Joseph Smith David J. Whittaker Oldfield, J. R., Alexander Crummell (1819-1898) and the Creation of an African-American Church in Liberia Paul R. Griffin Markwell, B e r n a r d Kent, The Anglican Left: Radical Social Reformers in the Church of England and the Protestant Episcopal Church, 1846-1954 William L. Sachs Howard, Victor B., Religion and the Radical Republican Movement, 1860-1870 Susie C. Stanley Brock, Peter, The Quaker Peace Testimony, 1660 to 1914 Richard E. Wood Ownby, T e d , Subduing Satan: Religion, Recreation, and Manhood in the Rural South, 1865-1920 Bill J. Leonard Butler, J o n a t h a n M., Softly and Tenderly Jesus is Calling: Heaven and Hell in American Revivalism, 1870—1920 J a m e s H. Moorhead Brouwer, Ruth Compton, New Women for God: Canadian Presbyterian Women and India Missions, 1876—1914 J o a n n e Carlson Brown White, Ronald C , Jr., Liberty and Justice for All: Racial Reform and the Social Gospel (1877-1925) Susan H. Lindley Williams, Rory, A Protestant Legacy: Attitudes to Death and Illness among Older Aberdonians Thomas E. Frank Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:11, subject to the https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S000964070007877X https://www.cambridge.org/core Sicius, Francis J., The Word Made Flesh: "The Chicago Catholic Worker" and the Emergence of Lay Activism in the Church Mark B. Sorvillo Sparr, Arnold, To Promote, Defend, and Redeem: The Catholic Literary Revival and the Cultural Transformation of American Catholicism, 1920-1960 J a m e s P. Gaffey Brown, Alden V., The Grail Movement and American Catholicism, 1940-1975 R. Scott Appleby Stone, Ronald H., ed., Paul Tillich: Theology of Peace William Schweiker Washington, James M., ed., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr Ralph E. Luker Hall, Mitchell K., Because of Their Faith: CALCAVand Religious Opposition to the Vietnam War J a m e s Findlay Foster, Lawrence, Women, Family, and Utopia: Communal Experiments of the Shakers, the Oneida Community, and the Mormons Sally M. Promey Leonard, Bill J., God's Last and Only Hope: The Fragmentation of the Southern Baptist Convention Edward L. Queen II Goa, David J., ed., The Ukrainian Religious Experience: Tradition and the Canadian Cultural Context Charles Frazee Weber, Francis J., Golden State Catholicism: Some Historical Reflections Douglas Firth Anderson Davis, Cyprian, O.S.B., The History of Black Catholics in the United Stales Milton C. Sernett Miles, Margaret M., Carnal Knowing: Female Nakedness and Religious Meaning in the Christian West Elizabeth A. 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work_zbpjzawsybfazg3stmlktcpzrq	----	1 "’A New Vocation before Me’: Frederick Douglass’s Post-Civil War Lyceum Career." John R. McKivigan In first edition of his 1881 autobiography Life and Times, Frederick Douglass reminisced about the vocational dilemma he faced after the conclusion of the Civil War sixteen years earlier: “I felt I had reached the end of the noblest and best part of my life, my school was broken up, my church disbanded, and the beloved congregation dispersed, never to come together again. The anti-slavery platform had performed its work, and my voice was no longer needed. ‘Othello’s occupation was gone’”1 (Douglass, 2013 [1881], p. 292). This essay will examine Douglass’s struggle to resolve the existential crisis that he faced in the faced in the decade from 1865 to 1875. Douglass’s vocational problems during that decade were compounded by a pressing need for revenue, not just to support himself, but to assist his four adult children and their growing families financially. While a proficient journalist and author of two well-received autobiographies before the Civil War, it had been as a highly skilled orator on behalf of the abolitionist cause that Douglass had gained the greatest fame. (Blight, 1991, 2, 4-5) It is not surprising, therefore, that Douglass would turn to paid public speaking on the lyceum stage to reinvent himself professionally. This essay will explore Douglass’s career as a lyceum speaker and conclude that the lessons he learned in the first post-Civil War decade had a significant impact on both the rhetorical content and delivery style of Douglass’s oratory in the final twenty years of his life (1875-1895). Novice Orator To trace this evolution one must briefly analyze Douglass’s antebellum speaking career. An eastern shore of Maryland slave, born in 1818, Douglass had lived for much of his youth in Baltimore where he acquired rudimentary literacy through nearly legendary effort. His most ___________________________________________________________________ This is the author's manuscript of the article published in final edited form as: McKivigan, J. R. (2018). “A New Vocation before Me”: Frederick Douglass’s Post-Civil War Lyceum Career. Howard Journal of Communications, 0(0), 1–14. https://doi.org/10.1080/10646175.2018.1424668 https://doi.org/10.1080/10646175.2018.1424668 2 treasured possession as a young man was a copy of Caleb Bingham’s The Columbian Orator from which he gleaned lessons in effective rhetoric that he followed for decades to come. (Colaiaco, 2006, pp. 27-28; Deacon, pp. 71-73) Bingham provided very practical advice on subjects such as speech delivery, pacing, gestures, eye contact, employment of humor, concluding with the exhortation that the best way to become an effective orator was “practice and imitation of the best examples.” (Lampe, 1998, 9-13) After escaping to the North in 1838, Douglass settled in New Bedford, where he accepted any work he could find on the city docks to support a growing young family. In 1841, Douglass took an uncustomary vacation and traveled with New Bedford abolitionists to Nantucket Island attend a convention of the Massachusetts auxiliary of the American Anti-Slavery Society, led by Boston editor William Lloyd Garrison.2 Before he left Nantucket, Douglass had been hired as a paid itinerant antislavery lecturer by these Garrisonian abolitionists. In the next few years Douglass addressed audiences large and small across the Northeast. The Garrisonians encouraged him to retain his original focus in recounting his personal experiences under slavery. As one advised: “Be yourself…and tell your story…. Better have a little of the plantation manner of speech than not; ‘tis not best that you seem too learned.” Douglass ignored this advice, declaring “It was impossible for me to repeat the same story month after month, and to keep up my interest in it…it was a task altogether mechanical for my nature” (Douglass, 2003 [1855], pp. 207-08). A trip to Great Britain following the publication of his first autobiography in 1845 provided opportunities to Douglass to address many new subjects, including temperance and religion. After he returned home in 1847 Douglas actively participated in debates at numerous antislavery conventions and black meetings. 3 Douglass took mastering the art of oratory very seriously. He already possessed enormous natural gifts as a speaker: a tall imposing physical presence and a baritone voice with a great carrying power. He could modulate his voice from a whisper to a thunderous blast and presented his arguments with a calculated rhythm. Reading and re-reading Caleb Bingham’s introduction, “General Instructions for Speaking” (Bingham, 1811, pp. 7-30). Douglass imbibed the principles of effective rhetoric from classical ages down to his present times. In particular his oratory displayed all three of the Aristolian means of persuasion: ethos, logos, and pathos. He also adapted the homiletic style of black slave preachers and was an apt student of the great abolitionist and political speakers of his age: Wendell Phillips, Charles Sumner, Theodore Parker, Edward Everett, and Daniel Webster. Contemporaries acknowledged that Douglass was one of the most effective speakers on the antislavery stage. For example, New Hampshire abolitionist editor Nathaniel P. Rogers declared that “As a speaker he [Douglass] has few equals.… He has wit, argument, sarcasm, pathos—all that first-rate men show in their master efforts. His voice is melodious and rich, and his enunciation quite elegant” (Ernest, 2014, 21-220). Black abolitionist William J. Wilson praised Douglass’s natural abilities: “In his very look—his gesture—in his whole manner, there is so much of genuine, earnest eloquence, that they leave no room for reflection. Now you are reminded of one rushing down some fearful steep, bidding you follow; now on some delightful stream, still beckoning you onward” (Wilson, 1854, pp. 165-73). The end of the Civil War and especially the passage of the Thirteenth Amendment created a crisis for veteran abolitionists like Douglass. Some of them such as Garrison favored declaring their movement a success, closing down the American Anti-Slavery Society and retiring from reform. Douglass did not agree with these colleagues’ rosy assessment of the 4 security of gains won by African Americans through emancipation and struggled to keep the abolitionist movement in existence until the passage of additional constitutional amendments to expand the rights of the freed people. Ratification of the Fourteenth Amendment, acknowledging African American citizenship, and the Fifteenth, granting Black males voting rights, however, were soon forthcoming. The Society finally disbanded in 1870, provoking Douglass’s “career crisis” (Barnes, 2013, 103-04; McFeely, 1991, 269, 273). Douglass also experienced a demoralizing string of financial reverses in the decade 1865- 1875. His final journalistic venture, the Washington (D.C.) New National Era, allowed him to work alongside two of his three sons from September 1870 to October 1874 in attempting to influence federal Reconstruction policies, but ultimately that newspaper proved a financial disaster. In June 1872 Douglass’s Rochester home burned to the ground, probably the target of arson, causing the loss of valuable bearer bonds. Douglass’s brief service as president of the Freedman’s Savings and Trust Bank in 1874 proved unable to save that institution from financial collapse or himself from the loss of thousands in his own deposits. (Barnes, 2013, 109-10, 113- 14; McFeely, 1991, 273, 282-86, 297) Finally, adding to Douglass’s financial burdens was his four adult children’s lack of success in their own careers. The responsibility of caring for a growing extended family forced Douglass to search for a new source of revenue. (Barnes, 2013, 107-09; McFeely, 1991, 257-58, 261, 271, 297) Fortunately Douglass did not have to wait long before an alternative career opened itself to him. In his third autobiography he recounts that in the years following the Civil War his vocational problem “was soon decided for me. I had after all acquired (a very unusual thing) a little more knowledge and aptitude fitting me for the new condition of things than I knew, and had a deeper hold upon public attention than I had supposed.” Douglass reported in Life and 5 Times that “Invitations poured in upon me from colleges, lyceums, and literary societies,” offering him generous compensation for a single lecture “Here, then, was a new vocation before me, full of advantages, mentally and pecunarily. When in the employment of the American Anti- Slavery Society, my salary was about four hundred and fifty dollars a year, and I felt I was well paid for my services; but I could now make from fifty to a hundred dollars a night…” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:293-94). Douglass and the Lyceum Circuit The American lyceum had come of age in the 1830s and 1840s, initially in the Northeastern states and then spreading westward. Local committees, dominated by ministers, educators, and businessmen, had arranged programs of lectures deemed “instructive” and morally uplifting. Most of its early speakers were ministers, lawyers, or teachers already experienced in public presentations. Only a small cadre of star performers such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry Ward Beecher, and Wendell Phillips delivered large numbers of lectures or drew high fees before the Civil War (McKivigan, 2008, 119; Ray, 2002, 627-29). After the disruption of that great national conflict, the lyceum industry underwent an enormous transformation. Beginning in the Midwest many lyceums and literary societies began coordinating the schedules of leading itinerant performers. Soon “empresarios” such as former abolitionist James Redpath launched lecture bureaus to represent those star performers and guarantee them plentiful bookings, top salaries, and coherent traveling schedules in exchange for a standard ten percent commission. The goal of Redpath’s bureau, according to one scholar, was to create a professional business structure for the lyceum industry that “would be ethical and equitable for the performers and the local committees” (McKivigan, 2008, 119-20; Ray, 2002, 627-29). 6 There was a considerable expansion in opportunities after 1865 for the would-be professional lecturer. However, most lyceums concentrated their “seasons” in the winter months from November to April. A speaker had to be willing to travel considerable distance over uncomfortable and often unreliable transportation to pick up available “dates.” Many lecturers also learned that some lyceum societies and individual promoters would fail to pay the agreed- upon fees when audiences failed to appear. For example in 1869, Douglass traveled from Rochester to Frederick, Maryland, to deliver a lecture and discovered that all of the arrangements he had made via a series of telegrams were with a fictitious individual and no such event had been scheduled (Baltimore American and Commercial Advertiser, 1869). .After that fiasco Douglass proved an easy recruit by Redpath to his growing stable of stable of star lyceum performers (Redpath, 1869). Douglass set off to make lecturing pay by doggedly crisscrossing the North from the late fall to early spring. For example, Douglass first delivered a brand new lecture in Brooklyn on 17 December 1866, then spoke in many eastern cities and town, and finally traveled as far west as Missouri, Iowa, and Minnesota before returning to his Rochester home in March (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, p. 149). Surviving correspondence with his children reveal that Douglass maintained an arduous pace of travel for weeks at a time while lecturing, alleviated by occasional visits at the homes of old friends from antislavery days (Douglass, C., 1870, 1872, 1873). In November 1872, for example, Douglass confided in his daughter Rosetta that “But for the burning and destruction of my hard earnings, I should be able to spare myself the coming winter from the labors, perils and fatigue of a lecturing campaign” (Quarles, 1948, p. 313). Douglass on the Lyceum Stage 7 One thing that made it easier for Douglass to turn to the paid lyceum stage to support himself and his family was his occasional pre-war experience in delivering carefully prepared written lectures in public. His iconic 1852 “What to the Slave is the Fourth of July?” might have been the earliest of this type of address by Douglass3 (Colaiaco, 2006, 29). Two year later he accepted an invitation to deliver the heavily-researched lecture ”Ethnology,” as part of the commencement ceremonies at Western Reserve College in Cleveland. Dr. Henry L. Wayland from the faculty of the University of Rochester lent Douglass many scientific works and Douglass recalled laboring “many days and nights” on this speech (Douglass, 2003 [1855], p. 498). In the late 1850s, Douglass had prepared and occasionally delivered two other newly written lectures, “Self-Made Men” and “Picture & Progress,”4 before lyceum audiences. In the decade from 1865 to 1875 when Douglass made the lyceum stage his primary source of income, he prepared and repeatedly delivered a relatively small collection of addresses. The occasionally varying titles of these lectures were “Sources of Danger to the Republic,” “William the Silent,” “Our Composite Nationality,” “Self-Made Men,” “Santo Domingo,” “Recollections of Our Anti-Slavery Conflict” and “The Races.” Douglass later observed that “the success of a lecturer depends more upon the quality of his stock in store, than the amount” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294) and he frequently reworked his manuscripts of existing lectures rather than adding more to his repertoire. All of these meticulously researched addresses were designed to display Douglass’s erudition to audiences attuned to the traditions of the lyceum’s “instructive” lecture (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294). An examination of the content of Douglass’s new lyceum lectures also reveals that they contained significant political subtexts. Regardless of the titular subject matter, they all addressed important political and racial topics of the Reconstruction era to a significant degree. (Ray, 2002, 628-29) Douglass was striving to 8 combine the reformist aspirations of his old abolitionist vocation with the professional requirements of his new career on the lyceum circuit. For example, “The Races” was an adaptation of Douglass’s original address on Ethnology before the Western Reserve College. In the latter lyceum presentation, Douglass shifted the talk’s emphasis from a description of the scientific debate over “polygenesis” to an attack on popularly-held anti-Black prejudices.5 In his 1854 lecture, Douglass had attempted to demonstrate his mastery of the complex scientific debate over Race. On the lyceum stage, Douglass dismissed the so-called scientific claims of the “Ethnologist” perfunctorily and instead appealed to the “common sense” of his listeners to recognize the self-evident capacities of the African American. Douglass attributed any lack of “cultivation” by African Americans after the Civil War to the abiding legacy of slavery. Douglass’s lecture presented a challenge to the assumption of white supremacy held by many of his listeners but encouraged them to see the former slaves as their fellow citizens entitled to the national legacy of “freedom,” “liberty,” and shared humanity (Ray, 2002, 630-33). The other antebellum lecture that Douglass continued to deliver to lyceum audiences after the Civil War, and in fact into the 1890s, was his “Self-Made Men” address. The title was the adaption of the popular aphorism about the exceptional opportunity for economic and political advancement afforded to Americans and had been used by many lecturers and authors including Ralph Waldo Emerson, Horace Greeley, and Harriet Beecher Stowe before Douglass first presented his version of the lecture in the late 1850s. Called for far more often by lyceum committees than “Races,” Douglass’s “Self-Made Men,” appealed to what Douglass scholar Waldo Martin dubs as the nineteenth century’s “dominant middle-class uplift ideology” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], p. 294; Martin, 1984, pp. 262-63). In its long history of deliveries, Douglass regularly tailored this lecture to his audiences, white and black, foreign and American. 9 In the period under examination here, the decade following the Civil War, Douglass worked to make the lecture relevant to the on-going public debates over guaranteeing opportunities to the freedpeople. Douglass gave attention in the lecture to the careers of successful people of African descent, to some relatively well-known such as the mathematician Benjamin Bannecker, to international figures like Haitian revolutionary Toussaint L’Ouveuture, and to more obscure individuals such as New York inventor and architect William Dietz. In this lecture, Whites had their prejudices challenged regarding African American inferiority and Blacks would hear of models of achievement by persons like themselves. While the self-help ideology had an implicit individualistic and laissez-faire bias, Douglass also enlightened his audience to the government- imposed obstacles that freed slaves faced to experience “fair play” He asserted that the recently freed people “should be measured, not by the heights others have obtained, but from the depths from which he has come. For any adjustment of the scale of comparison, fair play demands that to the barbarism from which the negro started shall be added two hundred years heavy with human bondage.” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1992, pp. 545-72). A brand new lecture that Douglass developed for the winter of 1866-67 lyceum season was entitled “Sources of Danger to the Republic.” He had just written a thoughtful article for the Atlantic Monthly on the problems Reconstruction posed for the nation. Douglass expanded his negative appraisal of the new president Andrew Johnson into a radical critique of the U.S. Constitution and its frustrating system of checks and balances. Aware that his assessment might offend those in his lyceum audiences use to “Fourth of July extravagances about the Constitution and about its framers,” Douglass began his lecture by acknowledging his while “my early condition in life was not very favorable to the growth of what men call patriotism and reverence for institution…I can speak respectfully of the Constitution.” He next praised the Constitution as 10 “free from bigotry, free from superstition, free from sectarian prejudices, casts or political distinction.” Nevertheless, Douglass argued, the Constitution as “wise and good as that instrument is…is simply a human contrivance…. Time and experience and the ever increasing light of reason are constantly making manifest …defects and imperfections, and it is for us, living eighty years after them, and therefore eighty years wiser than they, to remove those defects—to improve the character of our constitution at this point where we find those defects” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, pp. 152-54). For example, Douglass argued that consent by the U.S. Senate was not an adequate safeguard against abuse of the president’s appointing power because the president may make appointments when the Senate is not in session. Douglass contended that the Supreme Court would check congressional arbitrariness more equitably than does the president with his power of veto. He criticized the provision for a second presidential term on the ground that it allows the president to break with the party that elected him originally. Douglass even questioned whether the United States government would function better with no president at all. Finally Douglass concluded the lecture by calling on his audience to remember the contribution of African American soldiers to suppressing the rebellion and saving the Constitution. While a bloody conflict had been required to remove the earlier “sources of danger” to the nation, Douglass hoped that these new dangers could be exposed and removed “without the aid of a second rebellion—without the people being lashed and stung into another military necessity” (Jarrett, 2011, pp. 59-60; Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, pp. 149-72, 593-94). Of course, Douglass did not express these opinions in a vacuum, but in the climate of heated political quarrels over Reconstruction policy that would with a year lead to an unsuccessful attempt to remove Andrew Johnson from the White House. His lecture even delved 11 into a conspiracy theory that the assassins of Lincoln had intimate knowledge of Johnson and his intention of restoring the former Confederates to their dominance in both the southern state governments and the national governments. Not coincidentally, Douglass dropped this lecture from his repertoire when Grant succeeded Johnson in the White House and his attitude toward the executive branch brightened (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 169-70). In 1872 and 1873 Douglass delivered another lyceum address “Santo Domingo” that mixed scholarly research in the style of the instructive lecture and political topicality in line with his reformist inclinations. In 1871 President Grant had appointed Douglass as assistant secretary to accompany a commission sent to the Dominican Republic to assess public sentiment regarding the proposed annexation to the United States. The annexation question deeply divided the Republican Party as such prominent leaders as Charles Sumner and Carl Schurz maneuvered to defeat Grant’s proposed treaty. In his written-out lecture, Douglass presented a detailed historical, geographic, botanical, and economic account of the island nation. He contended that “No country is more bountifully blessed by nature or more woefully cursed by man” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 345). Douglass praised the Santo Domingo’s “wonderful and easily assessable tropical resources, her splendid bays, and fertile valleys.” He affirmed that the vast majority of the Dominican people favored annexation to the United States “to put an end to revolutions and secure peace and prosperity…. They want Saxon and Protestant civilization. They have tried the Latin and Catholic rule, let them have a chance to try free thought and free religious opinions” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 354). Many historians have criticized Douglass’s support for Grant’s plan to annex the Dominican Republic as an endorsement of United States imperialism or a crass attempt to win a patronage appointment by demonstrating loyalty to the president (Martin, 1984, 86-92; McFeely, 12 1991, 276-77). A close examination of the text of Douglass’s “Santo Domingo” lecture delivering repeatedly in 1872-73, however, supports a different interpretation. As literary scholar Robert Levine argues, “Santo Domingo” lecture should be viewed in the context of the early 1870s, when Douglass still believed that Reconstruction’s promise of a multiracial democracy could be achieved. Denying charges that the mixed blooded peoples of the tropical climes were incapable of higher civilization, Douglass called for annexation: “Let us lift them up to our high standards of nationality” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 355; Levine, 2008, 200-16). Douglass advocated annexation to be quickly followed by admission of the state of Santo Domingo to add political power to the antiracist side in the Reconstruction political battles. In the winter 1869-70 lecturing season, Douglass assiduously researched and wrote the address “Our Composite Nationality” for its inaugural delivery as part of Boston’s prestigious Parker Fraternity lecture series and then departed on a tour from Vermont to Illinois speaking more than forty times in the next three months. Douglass selected his topic in response to a growing national debate regarding the admittance of immigrants from China. Beginning his lecture by surveying the past treatment of Native Americans and African Americans, Douglass warned that “heretofore, the policy of our government has been governed by race pride, rather than by wisdom.” He argued that the “question of Chinese immigration should be settled upon higher principles than those of a cold and selfish expediency. There are such things in the world as human rights. They rest upon no conventional foundation, but are eternal, universal and indestructible.” Shifting from human rights to patriotism, Douglass next claimed that the nation’s “greatness and grandeur will be found in the faithful application of the principle of perfect civil equality to the peoples of all races and of all creeds.” 13 Douglass argued that the “only wise policy” toward newly arrived immigrants, including those from China often under attack on the West Coast, was to extend “a liberal and brotherly welcome to all who are likely to come to the United States.” Douglass advocated extending citizenship to “all nations, kindreds, tongues and peoples” as soon as “they learn our language and comprehend the duties of citizenship.” Douglass’s lecture expressed an early version of what historian Waldo Martin labels a “melting-pot dynamic” by which all peoples and cultures would assimilate into a superior new American culture freed on racist and ethnic prejudices. In the context of the Reconstruction era, Douglass certainly realized that advocating a policy of tolerance toward a new race of immigrants would promote fairer treatment of his own (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 245, 252-53; Martin, 1984; 217-24; Levine, 2008, 213-24; Ray, 2002, 639). One of the least characteristic topics for a lyceum lecture by Douglass was his “William the Silent” address, prepared for his winter 1868-69 lecturing tour. Its subject was the life of the sixteenth-century leader of the Dutch revolt against Spanish suzerainty. In preparing the written text for the lecture, Douglass had relied heavily upon the multivolume History of the Dutch Republic (New York, 1856) by John Lothrop Motley. That work applauded William and the Dutch people for their courageous uprising against foreign domination and religious persecution and viewed them as the direct precursors of George Washington and the American revolutionaries of two centuries hence. Douglass stressed that William’s noblest service was to ignore self-interest in order to champion political independence and religious tolerance. He doubted if even the taciturn President Grant better understood the uses of silence as William had. Douglass explained how William earned his sobriquet “the Silent”: he heard kings Henry of France and Phillip of Spain 14 plot to annihilate the Protestants but kept silent until conditions were propitious for intervention eight years later. Douglass pointed out the irony of William’s sobriquet in view of his stature as one of the most eloquent speakers and writer of his time. Douglass regarded William’s talents for silence more remarkable than his wealth, royal friends, or knowledge of seven languages6 (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, pp. 187-99, 614-16). To make this esoteric historical topic more relevant to his mid-nineteenth century listeners, Douglass compared William briefly with fellow revolutionaries George Washington and Toussaint L’Ouverture, but primarily with the recently assassinated Abraham Lincoln. He recalled that Lincoln desired to be identified with the people and observed that William and Lincoln were implicitly trusted by the people they each served. He observed that William was a more “thorough-going reformer” who often led in advance of Dutch public opinion, but acknowledged that Lincoln “waited for the people, and he desired to know not only what could be done, but what the people required to be done.” William had lived in a “monarchial age” but in modern democratic times, Douglass contended, “he is a true statesman that takes the law from the lips of the people…. Individuals may be very great, but the masses of men are greater. The great heart of the people may be mistaken, but it is always honest and disinterested.” Comparing William and Lincoln in their attitude toward their enemies, Douglass observed “The secret power of both men can be found in this very element of their character, in their charity, in their love for their fellow-men, even though these fellow-men were erring and criminal” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, p. 197. 198). “The everlasting negro” One thing that is clear from the content of Douglass’s post-Civil War lyceum lectures is that in all of them he intentionally raised the issue of race. During one delivery of “Self-Made 15 Men,” Douglass stated in a serio-comic way that ‘he had hoped to be able to get through with one lecture without bringing in the everlasting negro—but no—go where he would, and speak on what subject he might, he always had to lug in the negro” (Ernest, 2014, 128).7 Douglass made a similar statement about audience expectations to his manager James Redpath: “It is too late now to do much to improve my relation to the public. I shall never get beyond Fredk. Douglass the self educated slave “(Douglass, 1871). Although frequently quoted by Douglass scholars, there is strong reason to believe Douglass had no real desire to reject his public persona as an emancipated slave and leading champion of African American civil rights. To the contrary, Douglass viewed his post-Civil War lyceum performances as an extension of his earlier role as an advocate for his race. As Douglass explained in Life and Times: “I never rise to speak before an American audience without something of the feeling that my failure or success will bring blame or benefit to my whole race8 (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294- 95; Martin, 1985, 629). As communications scholar Angela G. Ray has observed, Douglass both “employed the conventions of popular lecturing and popular entertainment” while he also “challenged the white supremacist society in which he and his audiences lived” (Ray, 2002, 626). For example, the conscientious preparation that Douglass devoted to each lecture revealed that he intended to use his polished and confident stage appearances to display the intellectual capacities of his recently emancipated race. Experientially Douglass used his presence before largely white audiences as a means to confront and possibly overcome racial prejudices. In his “Self-Made Man” lecture, for example, audiences could not fail to recognize the similarity between Douglass and many of his subjects. (Ray, 2002, 637, 629). The central arguments of Douglass’s lyceum lectures similarly addressed the debate over race during Reconstruction. He repeatedly denied that any current lack of “cultivation” among 16 African Americans was due to inherent inferiority but rather was attributable to the influence of slavery, “a poor school for the human intellect and heart” (Douglass, 1999 [1845], p. 4). In both “Races” and “Our Composite Nationality,” Douglass advocated destroying all forms of racial hierarchies as an expansion of basic American ideals of “freedom” cherished by his audiences (Ray, 2002, 633). In “Self-Made Men,” Douglass endorsed the self-improvement ethos held by his white auditors while simultaneously challenging those individuals to realize that slavery and racism had erected barriers against African Americans striving to advance themselves. (Martin, 1985, 67) When defending Chinse immigrants in his “Our Composite Nationality” lecture, Douglass envisioned a future that assimilated all cultures, including his own. In that last lecture, Ray notes, Douglass pulled off the significant rhetorical feat of endorsing American exceptionalism while redefining American greatness as a product of its incorporation of diverse cultures from around the world. (Ray, 2002, 626, 640). In all his lyceum lectures, Ray argues, “Douglass both enacted and argues for social change that did not merely adapt African Americans to the norms of a fixed white American culture but rather challenged cultural fixedness itself, promoting an ‘American’ culture encompassing differences, in which biological variation did not determine cultural hierarchies” (Ray, 2002, 640, 626). The Changing Lyceum Stage While Douglass strove to deliver his own version of politically-informed “instructive” lectures after the Civil War, the character of the American lyceum was undergoing fundamental change. The commercialization of the post-war lyceum industry by managers like James Redpath was accompanied by a significant shift in the content and delivery style of many of its lectures. Redpath noted that after the Civil War there was a decline of the audience for many lyceum veterans while he could attract full houses for “humorists” and other less serious “entertainers.” 17 With a few exceptions like Beecher, ministers were losing their audience by delivering lectures “not in a democratic but in a theocratic…style.” “Literary men,” Redpath declared, “write for the eye not the ear; the literary and oratorical styles out to be different….” (McKivigan, 2008, 131) A veteran reformer, himself, with many friends in the ranks of antislavery, women rights, and temperance activists, Redpath worked to help them adapt to new public tastes. Redpath did not mourn the decline of the old-style “instructive” lecture because he believed that “the penny press has called up thousands of brilliant writers to do that duty. The penny press killed all mere essay- reading in public. In order to be heard, a lecturer now, must not only have something to say but know how to say it; he must not be a mere humdrum reader of a manuscript but a magnetic orator who can kindle thought and entrance his audience” (McKivigan, 2008, 131). Douglass was aware that the rapid changes in the lyceum industry. In an 1871 letter to Redpath, Douglass acknowledged the growing demand of lyceum audiences to be entertained as well as educated: “I shall endeavor not to forget that people—do not attend lectures to hear Statesmanlike addresses, which are usually rather heavy for the Stomachs of young and old who listen. People do not attend lectures to hear statesmanlike addresses, which are usually rather heavy for the stomachs of the young and old who listen. People want to be amused as well as instructed. They come as often for the former as the latter, and perhaps as often to see the man as for either” (Douglass, 1871; Ray, 2008, p. 629). One tool Douglass was able to bring with him from his antebellum career as an abolitionist speaker was his ability to interject various forms of humors into his speaking. The best student of Douglass’s humor, Granville Ganter documents his astute employment of a full range of mimicry, burlesque, satire, and irony to advance his rhetorical arguments. Much of Douglass’s humor on the lyceum stage played on his racial distance from much of his audience, 18 winning laughter from a largely white St. Louis audience by describing himself “as a democrat, a genuine democrat dyed in the wool” (St. Louis Democrat, 1867).9 In Cincinnati, he won laughter during a “William the Silent” performance, by endorsing the election of African Americans to Congress: “I am sure if the nigger is tough enough to stand Congress, Congress ought to stand him” (Cincinnati Commercial, 1869). In an Illinois delivery of “Self-Made Men” Douglass drew greater laughter by mocking the persistent disparagement of his race by describing two Irishmen discussing his lecture: “And faith! Pat, what did ye think of the nager?” “Nager? Did ye say he was a nager?” “Arrah, he’s half nager any way.” “Be jabbers if half a nager can do like that I should like to know what a whole nager could do!” (Ernest, 128).10 Ganter observes that Douglass fully exploited comedy’s subversive potential in his lecturing: “At his best, Douglass could win his enemies; admiration by making them smile with him” (Ganter, p. 535). Audiences and Critics In the post-Civil War decade, newspapers recorded widely disparate audience reactions and described Douglass’s manner of delivery in sharply contrasting ways: he could be characterized as unanimated or engrossing; audience were merely polite and turnout very low, or audience size and financial returns were unprecedentedly large for a given location or lecture series. One auditor in Mt. Pleasant, Iowa, declared that Douglass’s words “were uttered with a power and chasteness of style and diction that shook down prejudice from many who had heard, but until now did not believe.” A “Quiet Listener” in Boston, however, criticized Douglass “in true friendship,” point out that “when he instituted comparisons between English governmental forms and practices and our own, he made mistakes that the [New York] World newspaper will rejoice over as samples of negro incapacity to grapple with profound issues.” A Syracuse newspaper reporter observed about Douglass delivering “William the Silent”: “He does not 19 appear to the same advantage with a carefully prepared lecture, that he does when speaking from the impulses of his heart without note or manuscript” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, pp. 149, 240, 342; Blassingame, 1979, p. lxvi). Those who had observed Douglass as a public orator for many years often offered harsh judgments on his performance on the post-Civil War lyceum stage. One long-time Black associate in the antislavery cause, William Wells Brown, regretted the change in Douglass speaking style, noting that: “His latter addresses from manuscripts, however, do not, in our opinion, come up to his extemporaneous efforts” (Brown, 1874, pp. 435-40). Another long-time Douglass acquaintance from Rochester, the journalist Jane Marsh Parker, also pronounced a negative assessment of Douglass written lectures: “He never became a student, even when the victory of his cause had been won, and he had the leisure for study. Composition was never easy for him, unless his soul was stirred in its depths; nor was public speaking, unless his tongues was on fire. His literary lectures upon subjects foreign to his personal experience were highly disappointing. ‘The Honourable Frederick Douglass’ was never the orator that ‘Fred Douglass’ had been in the old pre-emancipation days” (Marsh, 1895, 552-53). James M. Gregory, a Howard University professor and Douglass’s first biographer, came to a similar assessment of the latter phase of Douglass’s oratory: “Mr Douglass, as an extemporaneous speaker, was much more impressive than he has been since he began to write out his speeches and deliver them from manuscript…. By not being confined to his manuscript, he caught the inspiration of his audience. This inspiration, so essential to true eloquence in the orator, can never be secured by the essayist, however finished and perfect he may be” (Gregory, 1893, 93). 20 Douglass realized the problems in his manner of his delivery of lyceum lectures. In the past, Douglass reported, “Written orations that not been in my line. I had usually depended upon my unsystematized knowledge, and the inspiration of the hour and the occasion, but I had now got the ‘scholar bee in my bonnet’” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294). Douglass learned that a “carefully studied and written address,” like his “the Races of man,” “fell dead at my feet” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294). Douglass once admitted to Gregory that he thought he had made a mistake in this writing out of his lectures: “he imbibed the idea that his extemporaneous speeches would be defective and subject him to criticism. He had by so doing lost much power in delivery. ‘For,’ said he, ’I never was a good reader.’” During one unsuccessful lecture, Douglass apologized to his listeners for his “lack of animation,” stating that since “the death of slavery,” he had nobody and nothing to “pitch into.” He added that he “read up” on such lecture subjects as “William the Silent” only because the public “insisted on hearing him”11 (Ray, 2002, 629). To try to counter these problems Douglass adapted his lecture presentations in several significant ways. Douglass learned that adding some extemporaneous remarks could save a standard lecture from boring his audience. For many years, for example, Douglass reminisced that he “adhered pretty closely to my old lecture on “Self-made Men,” retouching and shading it a little from time to time as occasion seemed to require” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], 1:294). He also adapted by departing frequently from his announced topic to discuss issues of the day, especially the deteriorating state on Southern Reconstruction.12 Douglass frequently coupled speaking engagements in the same city in order to present both one of his lyceum lectures and an address on current political concerns, often to essentially the same audiences. Douglass also learned to ingratiate himself with his audiences and hold their attention by revealing some of the inside workings of the lyceum industry and the foibles of its “stars” (Ray, 2002, p. 629). 21 Douglass similarly adopted a rhetorical pose of humility at the beginning of his lyceum lectures to win his listeners’ sympathy, such as the self-deprecatory statement to a Boston audience that it was a great “distance from the plantation to the platform of Music Hall” (Boston Commonwealth, 1860). Douglass’s efforts apparently had the desired effect because lyceum empresario James Redpath praised Douglass as the only African American lecturer capable of drawing in large white audiences (St. Louis Democrat, 1875). Despite Douglass’s dissatisfaction with reaching his lyceum audiences, he was unable to escape the financial pressures of having to support much of his extended family and therefore returned each winter to the grueling routine of the lecture circuit (Diedrich, 1999, 297). This problem finally was solved when Douglass accepted a series of lucrative federal appointments following the election of first Rutherford B. Hayes and then James Garfield, Republicans for whom he had vigorously stumped. While Douglass continued to lecture occasionally, he returned his platform emphasis to speaking on civil rights questions as well as stump speaking for Republican candidates he favored. A few older lyceum talks such as “Self-Made Men” survived in Douglass’s repertoire for special occasions, but most of the others were retired with few indications of regret. This decade of lecturing would prove an important bridge to the latter style of Douglass public speaking, featuring such well-known addresses as the “The Freedmen’s Monument to Abraham Lincoln,” “The Philosophy of Reform,” “The Southern Exodus,” and especially “Lessons of the Hour.” One of Douglass’s strongest critics of his lyceum lectures, James M. Gregory conceded the superiority of these latter written lectures in several ways. “He was led to investigate more extensively the subjects on which he wrote, and to take more time for preparation; and thus made his speeches more complete.” Gregory concluded: “Since he 22 followed the practice of writing his speeches his style has become more argumentative and massive, similar to that of Webster and Burke. In all he says, like these great masters, whom none have surpassed, there is so much beauty of expression, elegance of diction, dignity of thought, and elevation of moral feeling that the most happy and lasting effect is produced in the mind of the reader”13 (Gregory, 1993, 95). Charles Waddell Chesnutt, another early Douglass biographer, agreed: “What Douglass platform utterance in later years lacked of the vehemence and fire of his earlier speeches, they made up in wisdom and mature judgment“(Chesnutt, 117). Those great addresses of Douglass’s last twenty years were the products of considerable research and preparation. Douglass consciously wrote them down with the intention that they would be published and read by a much broader audience than heard him deliver them. Despite Douglass many natural talents as an speaker, these monuments of oratory probably would not have been possible without the frustrating lessons that he had learned in that decade in the lyceum circuit in the first post-Civil War decade.14 23 REFERENCES Baltimore American and Commercial Advertiser (20 August 1869). Barnes, L. D. (2013). Frederick Douglass: Reformer and Statesman. New York: Routledge. Bingham, C. (1811). The Columbian Orator. 10th ed. Troy, N.Y.: Baltimore: Philip H. Nicklin. Blassingame, J. (1979). The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 1: Speeches, Debates, and Interviews. Vol. 1: 1841-46. New Haven: Yale University Press. Blassingame, J. (1985). The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 1: Speeches, Debates, and Interviews. Vol. 3: 1855-53. New Haven: Yale University Press. Blassingame, J. and J. R. McKivigan. (1991). The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 1: Speeches, Debates, and Interviews. Vol. 4: 1864-80. New Haven: Yale University Press. __________. (1992). The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 1: Speeches, Debates, and Interviews. Vol. 5: 1881-95. New Haven: Yale University Press. Blight, D. W. (1991). Frederick Douglass’ Civil War: Keeping Faith in Jubilee. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press. Boston Commonwealth (9 December 1869). Brown, W. W. (1874). The Rising Son; or, The Antecedents and Advancement of the Colored Race. Boston: A. G. Brown. Chesnutt, C. W. (1899). Frederick Douglass, a Biography. Boston: Small, Maynard. Cincinnati Commercial (8 February 1869). Colaiaco, J. A. (2006). Frederick Douglass and the Fourth of July. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Deacon, Andrea (2003). “Navigating ‘The Storm, the Whirlwind, and the Earthquake’: Re- assessing Frederick Douglass, the Orator,” Rocky Mountain Review of Language and Literature” 57:65-81. 24 Diedrich, M. (1999). Love across Color Lines: Ottilie Assing and Frederick Douglass. New York: Hill and Wang. Douglass, C. R. (1870, February 26; 1872, January 20; 1873, January 16). [Letter to Frederick Douglass]. Frederick Douglass Papers, Library of Congress. Douglass, F. [1845] (1999). Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass, An American Slave. Written by Himself. In The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 2: Autobiographical Writings. Vol. 1: Narrative. Eds. John W. Blassingame, John R. McKivigan and Peter P. Hinks. New Haven: Yale University Press. Douglass, F. [1852, July 7] (2009). Letter to Gerrit Smith. In The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 3: Correspondence. Vol. 1: 1842-82. Ed. John R. McKivigan. Pp. 545-47. Douglass, F. [1855] (2003). My Bondage and My Freedom. In The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 2: Autobiographical Writings. Vol. 2: My Bondage and My Freedom. Eds. John W. Blassingame, John R. McKivigan and Peter P. Hinks. New Haven: Yale University Press. Douglass, F. (1871, July 29). Letter to James Redpath. Alfred W. Anthony Manuscripts, New York Public Library. Douglass, F. [1881] (2012). Life and Times of Frederick Douglass. In The Frederick Douglass Papers, Series 2: Autobiographical Writings. Vol. 3: Life and Times. Ed. John R. McKivigan. New Haven: Yale University Press. Ernest, J. (2014). Douglass in His Own Time: A Biographical Chronicle of His Life, Drawn from Recollections, Interviews, and Memoirs by Family, Friends, and Associates. Iowa City: University of Iowa Press. Fanuzzi, Robert (1999). “The Trouble with Douglass’ Body,” American Transcendental Quarterly 13:1-17. 25 Ganter, Granville (2003). “’He Made Us Laugh Some’: Frederick Douglass’s Humor,” African American Review 37:535-53. Jarrett, G. A. (2011). Representing the Race: A New Political History of African American Literature. New York: New York University Press. Lampe, G. P. (1998). Frederick Douglass: Freedom’s Voice, 1818-1845. East Lansing: Michigan State University Press. Levine, R. S. (2008). Dislocating Race and Nation: Episodes in Nineteenth-Century American Literary Nationalism. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. Mailloux, S. (2002). “Re-Marking Slave Bodies: Rhetoric as Production and Reception,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 35:96-119. Marsh, J. P. (1895). “Reminiscences of Frederick Douglass.” Outlook 51:552-53. Martin, W.E. (1985). The Mind of Frederick Douglass. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. May, S. J. (1869) Some Recollections of Our Antislavery Conflict. Boston: Fields, Osgood. McFeely, W. S. (1991). Frederick Douglass. New York: W.W. Norton. McKivigan, J. R. (2008). Forgotten Firebrand: James Redpath and the Making of Nineteenth- Century America. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, Quarles, B. (1948). Frederick Douglass. New York: DaCapo Press. Ray, A. (2002). “Frederick Douglass on the Lyceum Circuit: Social Assimilation, Social Transformation?” Rhetoric & Public Affairs, 5: 627-29. Redpath, J. (1869, November 29). Letter to Frederick Douglass. Redpath Chaquatua Collection, University of Iowa Library, Iowa City, Iowa. St. Louis Democrat (8 February 1867; 29 February 1875). 26 Stauffer, J., Trodd, Z, and Bernier, C. (2015). Picturing Frederick Douglass: An Illustrated Biography of Nineteenth-Century’s Most Photographed American. New York: W.W. Norton. Walker, J. (2002). “From: A Symposium on Rhetoric, Writing, and Culture,” Philosophy and Rhetoric 35:91-95. Wilson, W. J. (1854). “A Leaf from My Scrap Book: Samuel R. Ward and Frederick Douglass.” In Autographs for Freedom. Ed. Julia Griffiths (Auburn, New York: Alden Beardsley. 27 1 After reminiscing about his youthful career in Baltimore as caulker, he continued: “My public life and labors had unfitted me for the pursuits of my earlier years, and yet not prepared me for more congenial and higher employment. Outside the question of slavery my thoughts had not been much directed, and I could hardly hope to make myself useful in any other cause than that to which I had given the best twenty-five years of my life. A man in the situation I found myself, has not only to divest himself of the old, which is never easily done, but to adjust himself to the new, which is still more difficult.” (Douglass, 2013 [1881], p. 292). 2 When Douglass had concluded his novice abolitionist address, Garrison had declared: “that PATRICK HENRY, of revolutionary fame, never made a speech more eloquent than the one we have just listened to from the lips of that hunted fugitive.” (Douglass, 1999 [1845], p. 4). Also see a similar judgment by abolitionist Samuel J. May. (Ernest, 2014, p. 41). 3 Douglass wrote his friend Gerrit Smith “I have been engaged in writing a Speech for the 4th July which has taken up much of my extra time for the last two or three weeks” (Douglass, 1852). 4 Historians John Stauffer, Zoe Trodd, and Celeste-Marie Bernier incorrectly date “Picture and Progress” to late 1864-early 1865, but press reports survive confirming its delivery in fall 1861. )Stauffer, Trodd, and Bernier, 161-73; Blassingame, 1985, pp. 452-73, 619-20). 5 Douglass established his credentials on the subject by subtly reminding his audience through a third-party reference to himself the speaker as a former slave. (Ray, 2002, p. 630) 6 At least one delivery provoked controversy, when an Ohio priest accused Douglass of taunting Catholics in the audience about the alleged role of Pope Gregory XIII in the assassination of William. (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, pp. 614-16). 28 7 In a delivery of his William the Silent lecture a Cincinnati newspaper reported that Douglass attracted laughter from his audience with the comment “You see, my friends, I may announce what subject I please, but I have never been able to ascend an American platform, and get off without bringing the nigger with me in some shape or other.” (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 193). 8 Douglass also demanded that halls where he performed drop their restrictions on African American attendance. (Ray, 2002, 629). 9 Robert Fanuzzi has best analyzed Douglass’s self-conscious use in his rhetoric of the racial distance between himself and his listeners. (Fanuzzi, 1999, pp. 12-13). 10 Granville Ganter compares Douglass use of such hostile stereotypes favorably with that done by his contemporaries Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony by observing that “Douglass’s use of ethnic slurs was performed in the service of a universally egalitarian political philosophy.” (Ganter, 2003, p. 542). 11 In 1875 Douglass justified his choice of a lecture topic that year based on his recollection of the lack of success with the “William the Silent” address (Ray, 2002, 629). 12 For example, Douglass had planned to deliver his “The Recollections of the Anti-Slavery Conflict” lecture in Louisville, Kentucky, on 23 April 1873, but abandoned that subject to address recent reports of a massacre of Black Republicans in Colfax, Louisiana (Blassingame and McKivigan, 1991, 360-61). 13 It is significant that Gregory said Douglass’s “reader” not listener (Ernest, 2014, 161-62. 14 These latter lectures also might reveal Douglass returning to the models of his childhood, the classical and British addresses he read in Bingham’s Columbian Orator for his evolved style of argument (Mailloux, 2002, 102-10, 110; Walker, 2002, 93). 
work_zjjqymjx3ffbvbcnziitwzrumu	----	215 N a s l e | e 3 5 • 2016 • 2 1 5 –2 2 4 821.111(73)-1.09 Whitman W. Stefan P. Pajović1 University of Novi Sad Faculty of Philosophy waLT whiTMan’S PoeTic concePT of inherenT PerSonaL DeMocracY2 тhe paper examines the motif of democracy in the work of Walt Whitman from the standpoint of its innateness to human kind. The first part of the paper explains how for Whitman the notion of democ- racy and the eponymous motif in his poetry were rooted in the na- ture of man, rather than the official governing structures. his poetry is thus disengaged from the institutions of democracy and directed at the individual, which is argued in the second part of the essay. The strengthening of the democratic capacity is a natural process to Whit- man, since the democratic sentiment is inherent to humans, regardless of their location, nationality or religion. sympathy is the word that per- meates Walt Whitman’s discourse on democracy. Keywords: Walt Whitman, institutions, individual, democracy, sympathy, america 1. The Herbal Union henry david Thoreau, one of the most prominent american thinkers of Walt Whitman’s era, once wrote: “… to be strictly just, [the authority of government] must have the sanction and consent of the governed. it can have no pure right over my person and property but what i concede to it. The progress from an absolute to a limited monarchy, from a limited monarchy to a democracy, is a progress toward a true respect for the individual” (2010: 26). The 19th-century america was the period when the process Thoreau spoke of reached the tipping point in favor of the individual. The actual tran- sition took place during the revolution, and Whitman’s america had the task of successfully carrying out the experiment of the union, and the gamble of democracy which even “america’s founding fathers were skeptical and anx- ious about” (hanke, 2011). Whitman’s poems, in his own words, function as “counterpoise to the leveling tendencies of democracy” (Whitman 1982: 667), and glorify “american individuality” which is the only path to avoiding the snare of mediocrity that democracy bears within. 1 stefan@capsred.com 2 The paper is part of the author’s master’s thesis defended at the faculty of philosophy in novi sad in september 2013, under the mentorship of prof. zoran paunović, phd. 216 Stefan P. Pajović another point Thoreau made was merely an affirmation of the ideal his country was founded on, best formulated in 1863 by president abraham lin- coln during his, now immortalized, Gettysburg address: “… that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom ‒ and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.”3 Whitman wrote in Democratic Vistas that the phrase was “a formula whose verbal shape is homely wit, but whose scope includes both the totality and all minutiæ of the lesson” (Whitman 1982: 943). Theoreticians of society had fiercely debated over that issue, since what antiquity and the founding fathers set in paper and blood in 1776, Whitman had remodeled to fit his own vision of america and “developed his style to suite his message” (lončar-Vu- jnović 2007: 223). The democracy Whitman wishes to target is the one of every man, i.e. he does not depart from the individual level, above which is the institutional. The form through which society shapes and incorporates the noble feelings of its citizens was never in Whitman’s literary focus. his “journalist self ” did dabble with politics as he was a member of The free soil party, which was active during the late 1850s and early 1860s, with the primary goal to thwart the expansion of slavery west of the mississippi river. in 1848 Whitman “was elected as a delegate to the convention in Buffalo to nominate a candidate for president and became editor of a party paper” (killingsworth 2007: 4). The party’s temperate stance on the issue of slavery which Whitman argued for in his paper, brought him no good as “the Brooklyn Daily Eagle was an organ of the democratic party, and Whitman’s change of editorial mind no doubt was the major reason he lost his position” (oliver 2004: 348). after he became disillusioned with political parties and their respective politicians, he turned to poetry to instruct americans in the essence of their beloved county which was starting to fade from the people’s memory. never- theless, he feels the urge to slander the party system in his essay “The eight- eenth presidency!,” written in 1856, but published posthumously in 1928: “are not political parties about played out? i say they are, all round. america has outgrown parties; henceforth it is too large, and they too small” (Whitman 1982: 1317). But when a party wins an election, its power becomes official, i.e. institu- tionalized. in the poem “i hear it Was charged against me,” Whitman open- ly states his relationship with such institutions, an ambiguous one: “i hear it was charged against me that i sought to destroy institutions, But really i am neither for nor against institutions, (What indeed do i have common with them? or what with the destruction of them?) 3 from his famous Gettysburg address, delivered on november 19, 1863 at the dedication of the soldiers’ national cemetery in Gettysburg, pennsylvania. 217 Walt Whitman’s poetic concept of inherent personal democracy N a s l e | e 3 5 • 2016 • 2 1 5 –2 2 4 only i will establish in the mannahatta and in every other city of these states inland and seaboard, and in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large that dents the water, Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument, The institution of dear love of comrades” (Whitman 1982: 281). Whitman’s indictment resembles socrates’s of corrupting the athenian youth. Both thinkers lived in a democracy, but for Whitman, the system had evolved over the twenty-three century span, so that an execution, as in the case of the famous Greek, was luckily not needed. interestingly, the second charge against socrates was that of impiety, a controversial issue in the literary opus of the american as well. in the poem in question, Whitman distances himself from the institutions (of democracy) in a way which leaves plenty of room for interpretation. he, as a free individual, is on a quest which does not concern the formal institutions of a society, i.e. they are not his goal and therefore pose no interest to him. his objectives, which he reaches through himself, are other individuals who com- prise the society, i.e. he deals with and targets the leaves, while institutions are concerned with the grass in its entirety. he operates alongside, but not with the government. a country builds edifices of the rule of law, whereas Whit- man builds those very structures in the psyche of every individual, strength- ening his or her democratic capacity far better that any authority could. oliver notices that more that “the individual” is the center of Whitman’s thought: “it is the nation’s citizens who will, in the end, keep democracy alive against the corruption of institutionalized systems” (2004: 213). his poetic notion did not diverge from the political thought of the era. alexis de tocqueville (1805-1859), alongside lafayette the most important frenchmen in america at the time, held the cultivation of feelings and prac- tices of civil honesty, in a higher esteem than any written law (peri 2000: 296). samuel adams, one of the founding fathers, wrote in 1749 that “neither the wisest constitution nor the wisest laws will secure the liberty and happiness of a people whose manners are universally corrupt.”4 any democracy whose cit- izens are not “strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich, perennial with the earth, with freedom, law and love” (Whitman 1982: 616), faces a bleak fu- ture, a prophecy which is the quintessence of Whitman’s latent, but thorough vision of democracy. The relationship between a whole and its parts has an interesting linguis- tic implication in Whitman’s blank or free verse. namely, he frequently uses enumerations of all sorts. although readers find them tedious at times, they do serve a particular purpose. karbiener connected these Whitmanesque “cat- alogues” with “the aural quality of [his] poetry” (2004: 76), i.e. with the images that the poet kaleidoscopically conveys to the reader. purešić in his preface to the 2005 edition of Leaves of Grass in serbian considers these listings as: 4 samuel adams, from a political essay published in The Public Advertiser in 1749. <http:// www.samuel-adams-heritage.com/quotes/popular.html>. 27.01.2016. 218 Stefan P. Pajović “… the confirmation of the very existence itself and its every aspect, i.e. [he] confirms its unity through its diversity, and stressed the importance of every single part to the whole. even the title of the collection signifies individuality and diversity, which is at the same time cohesion” (2005: 9). almost all of the listings are in blank verse, which is itself in direct con- nection to democracy, as oliver explains: “it is as if Whitman feels a direct re- lationship between democracy and free verse, the form most of his own poetry takes” (2004: 156). in “i hear it Was charged against me,” the poet denounces any concrete implications of his poetry that would be reflected in any institution or a sys- tem. mack noticed that “even though the poet seemed to intuit how far the political implications of poetic agency might reach, he was not interested in developing them” (2002: 98). 2. “I” for all of America Whitman, who had been disillusioned with political parties, was aware that his poetry was not a substitute for any kind of institution, especially not the apparatus of state. however, he was aware that his poems could have a strong impact onto the building block of any organization: the individual. if he could be improved, the institutions whom he governs would improve as well. The importance he assigned the individual with is perhaps most obvious in a line from the poem “full of life now,” where he himself (one free citizen) becomes a quintessential milestone of time: “i, forty years old the eighty-third year of the states” (Whitman 1982: 287). his urge to number the years of his country is not as odd as his age that stands next to it. There is neither a comma, nor a preposition to separate the two as they are read in one breath, a sentence entirely on itself. This lack of differentiation is in perfect accord with the poet’s view of democracy: the state and the individual are one being. if we apply an anthropomorphic metaphor, the government could be perceived as a limb of a body comprised of its con- stituency. Thoreau, for instance, saw governments primarily as tools, but lat- er mitigated the stance: “i please myself with imagining a state at last which can afford to be just to all men, and to treat the individual with respect as a neighbor” (2010: 26). even when he assuages his stance on the issue, the gov- ernment is still at best an equal partner to its citizens, which is a far cry from Whitman’s literal incorporation of the individual into his country. The poem exhibits no interest whatsoever in political intrigues at any level, because his “aim is less to express or depict persons exerting power over each other (which would yield allegory), than it is to express the adjacency of people, places and things” (fletcher 2004: 156). fletcher proceeds to define in his own words the “brotherhood” that both Thoreau and Whitman promulgated: “This adjacen- cy, when articulated as a complex living neighborhood, is exactly what i am calling an environment” (ibid.). however it may be labeled, Whitman remains faithful to his primeval image, and instead of ascending his and the personages of his fellow coun- 219 Walt Whitman’s poetic concept of inherent personal democracy N a s l e | e 3 5 • 2016 • 2 1 5 –2 2 4 trymen to their authorities (which was the task of the majority of theories of society throughout the centuries) he stoops the ruling apparatus down to its subjects and reincorporates it into its original source, the body and the mind of an individual. Thus, change in the government must start by reforming the individual which is its building block. it is not hard to draw the conclusion that properly formed democratic governments ought to display traits of an individual, namely his or her virtues, keeping in mind at all times that “virtue is not hereditary” (paine 1995: 44). Thomas jefferson provided guidelines for this in the eve of the revolution: “The whole art of government consists in the art of being honest.”5 it does come as a mild surprise that “Whitman’s concept of democracy [was] set down in some of the poet’s clearest prose in an untitled introductory essay that served as a preface to the 1855 edition” (oliver 2004: 13), i.e. it was presented to the reader of the day in the form of a prose writing. The essay opened with the word “america,” with the initial letter “a” vi- gnette-like, to announce the subject and the goal of the 21-page introduction to the 12 poems. The now immortalized statement that “The united states themselves are essentially the greatest poem” (Whitman 1982: 5), introduc- es both the subject and the goal of Whitman’s poetry. in this proclamation, Whitman starts from the premise that democracy is the basis of his quest for an authentic american poetry, i.e. it enables him to come to life and sustain himself. his personal success and popularity become equated with democra- cy: “celebrity had evolved into more than a quality granted by the public; it was also a distinct category of democratic identity” (Blake, 2006: 29). it should not be forgotten that Whitman was only one citizen out of more than sixty million people who resided in The united states of america in the year 1890 (oliver 2004: 378). in 2013 america’s populace numbers over 315 million men and women,6 adding to the importance of a rather simple ques- tion that had bothered theoreticians of society for centuries: is democracy for all? Whitman answers in his own voice:7 “centre of equal daughters, equal sons, all, all alike endear’d, grown, ungrown, young or old, strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich, perennial with the earth, with freedom, law and love” (Whitman 1982: 616). The pronunciation of the reiterated “all” is longer as the poet utilizes pho- nology to get his egalitarian message across. his democracy dwells in accord- ance with all the traits of true humanism, and is an offspring of “mother earth and father time,” a divine-like origin which it can thank its longevity for. 5 from jefferson’s pamphlet published in 1774 entitled: “a summary View of the rights of British america,” <https://www.history.org/almanack/life/politics/sumview.cfm>. 27.01.2016. 6 united states census Bureau estimate. 7 in 1992, a wax-cylinder recording of the poem “america” was discovered. The recording was dated back to 1889 or 1890 and it is presumed that the voice reading the first four lines is that of Walt Whitman himself (folsom 1992: 214). 220 Stefan P. Pajović for the Good Grey poet the question of the universal applicability of democracy was settled before it was even raised, as the system encompassed every human being, even doing away with nationality boundaries. “freedom does not paint a rosy picture, for inside these nation-states, there was throughout the course of history, as it is today, a tremendous gap between the individuals. Whitman was fully aware of this and recognized it as fault of any democratic system, and had through his literary work “tried to encompass a panorama of social types” (Blake 2006: 74). With an imperative voice (“This is what you shall do”) in the celebrated preface, he instructs the reader to, among other things: “… despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy …” (Whitman 1982: 11). The latter two categories of people are in terms of modern democ- racies equivalent to ancient Greek groups who were passed by democracy: namely women, slaves, and foreigners who comprised the majority of pop- ulace of any polis (avramović 1989: 16). Whitman possesses the knowledge that they were never given a chance to rule themselves, let alone an entire country, but wishes to include them in his vision of america. in the process, he inadvertently installs into every democratic persona a safety mechanism against the maltreatment of minority groups. a myriad of thinkers, beginning with alexis de tocqueville in the 19th century, have identified the terror of the majority against the minority as the biggest threat to any democracy, especial- ly the american type. Walt Whitman combats the issue by equipping every individual with a genuine belief into the “democracy for all” notion. The new yorker had been criticized numerous times for this, but his entire life stands as a testimonial to the great undercurrent of an all-inclusive democratic spirit, as fletcher explains: “many have thought that Whitman’s democratic optimism shines too brightly, providing too quick and easy examples for those who have not followed him in laboriously studying the art of poetry. … yet Whitman was never the mindless optimist; if anything he was a tragic rhapsode, and his example remains among the most subtle in spite of its grand scope and style” (2004: 253). mack provides a more accurate insight into the issue: “one of the com- plaints that is often heard about Whitman’s poetry concerns what some regard as its cloying optimism. The same complaint, elevated to the status of criti- cism, is often leveled at pragmatic philosophy” (2002: 111). Therefore it becomes clear that Whitman did not hold such a stance alone, as john dewey (1859–1952), a leading figure of american pragmatism, also believed in the masses and the universal human predisposition for rational thinking (peri 2000: 589). he lauded democracy as it, unlike the aristocrat- ic regimes, enabled every individual to potentially become a leader. dewey’s work in the field of education coincides with Whitman’s poetic, the essence of which john adams explained nearly a century before: “children should be educated and instructed in the principles of freedom.”8 Whitman’s vision tar- 8 adams, j. (1851). A Defence of the Constitutuions of Governments of the United States of America. chapter 3, seventh rule. 221 Walt Whitman’s poetic concept of inherent personal democracy N a s l e | e 3 5 • 2016 • 2 1 5 –2 2 4 geted children and adults alike, for he was not merely a tutor, but an andrago- gist as well, which was in accordance with his universal grasping of human es- sence. no man, woman, or a child, regardless of his or her age or background was to be excluded from his book, Leaves of Grass, which effectively became a textbook of pragmatism for: “The notion that democracy is more than a political process, that it is a social and cultural process as well, is an idea often associated with american prag- matic thinkers … ralph Waldo emerson, William james, john dewey, George herbert mead, and richard rorty” (mack 2002: xviii–xix). The populace of new york was in Whitman’s time growing increasingly polarized in terms of material wealth (karbiener 2004: 24). The gap only in- creased as time went on, hindering any prudent humanist in his efforts to as- sert the bond between all men, which was evident even in shakespeare’s time: “strange is it that our bloods, of colour, weight, and heat, pour’d all together, Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off in differences so mighty” All’s Well That Ends Well (2.3.763). The disparity was detrimental to democracy as well, as Whitman writes on the upsurge of the cult of materialism in america: “What american hu- manity is most in danger of is an overwhelming prosperity, ‘business’ worldli- ness, materialism: what is most lacking, east, west, north, south, is a fervid and glowing nationality and patriotism, cohering all parts into one” (1982: 1057). 3. The Bonding Sympathy in terms of statesmanship the bond is reestablished by nationality, but Whitman’s poetry possesses yet another quality of a genuine human emotion that establishes a link between social classes, namely, the well-to-do and the poor. That quality is sympathy. Blake writes: “from the beginning of his ca- reer, the poet championed his sympathy ‒ a quality that his early admirers as well as twenty-first century scholars have singled out in praising his efforts to get inside readers’ lives” (2006: 19). The mechanism of bonding transcended all barriers, for Whitman portrayed a profound concern for the fallen soldiers as well as the fates of their families, he uplifted the status of slaves by praising their human qualities of which they were slave-owners’ peers, and spoke for every man, woman or a group whose existence seemed mundane or on the margins of society. By appealing to this feeling in himself, he would in fact arouse such a sentiment in the reader as well, forcing him by means of poetry to alter his or hers stance on the issue in question. in the case of Whitman’s own personality, the feeling had a profound impact, as Brkić noticed: “sym- pathy. i can almost claim that in Whitman’s case that sympathy, that compas- sion is the only reason why his being had been shaped in an artistic manner, and not, let us say, in a scientific, prophet-like etc. he had chosen his way because of it” (1972: 128). 222 Stefan P. Pajović This “way” was in perfect accordance with his democratic thought, as the path to every genuine democracy is paved with humanism and true sympathy for another human being. Where a deficit in such qualities exists, like in the old World, any progress is hindered as oliver notices while writing on Walt Whitman’s concept of political democracy: “in the poetry Whitman refers to the equal importance of the individual and the ‘en-masse,’ the adhesiveness of individuals within the whole population. The problem in europe, he suggests, is the lack of such ‘solidarity’” (2004: 72). Throughout history existed numerous examples of autocratic regimes which had veered off this path, resulting in the termination of their rule. in this sense, the famous opening line of leo tolstoy’s Anna Karenina9 can be inverted and paraphrased to serve an epitaph to all failed governments: fall- en democracies are all alike; every successful democracy is successful in its own way. “own way” here stands for the uniqueness stemming out from each individual and his or her contribution to the ideal of democracy. This cannot be achieved without the sympathy which serves as an adhesive to the strong expression of individuality in america. tyrannies usually ensue after the facet of sympathy fails inside a democracy. d. h. lawrence wrote a short two-line poem in the late 1920s as an answer to Whitman, demonstrating what would happen if the promise of democracy was not fulfilled: “and whoever walks a mile full of false sympathy walks to the funeral of the whole human race” (lawrence 1998: 52). present american democracy, with its intricate electoral system, has veered off the path of true sympathy which is, in Whitman’s views, its integral part. instead of brotherhood of strong individuals, the poet’s native country is slowly descending into a bulky bureaucratic state, ever more resembling those in old europe that the american colonists initially fled from. furthermore, united states foreign policy of military interventionism is questionable as well, and it is perhaps appropriate that just a year after Whitman’s death, american marines overthrew the queen of hawaii and annexed the pacific archipelago unlawfully, which was admitted by the clinton administration in 1993. This was merely the first of the hundreds of recorded cases of overseas interventions that the states have not relinquished not even in the 21st century. This seeming- ly imperialistic policy stands in direct opposition to Whitman’s principle of the right of any people to rule themselves, as residents of the kingdom of hawaii were deprived of such a right in the last decade of the 19th century. united states are today in need of critically engaged poetry more than ever. many of america’s poets have certainly endeavored to provide such a discourse, and all their strivings included an anachronistic discourse with Walt Whitman. allan Ginsberg (1926–1997) wrote his famous 1956 poem “a supermarket in california,” opening it with the line: “What thoughts i have of you tonight, Walt Whitman.” another famous example would be langston hughes’s (1902–1967) poem “i too sing america,” which was written as a di- 9 “happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” 223 Walt Whitman’s poetic concept of inherent personal democracy N a s l e | e 3 5 • 2016 • 2 1 5 –2 2 4 rect retort to Whitman’s “i hear america singing.” ezra pound (1885–1972) made a pact with Whitman in the eponymous song written in 1916. all these examples go to show that the generations of american poets who came after Whitman believed that his motifs, including the one of the personal sense of democracy, were somehow topical to them and their vision of america. There- fore, there is little doubt that some future american poets will have to grap- ple Whitman’s century-old theme of individual democracy by inventing new kinds of sympathy, ones that would be suitable for the modern world and the plight of individuals, groups, and other peoples living in it. references avramović 1989: s. avramović, starogrčka baština, In: d. mrđenović, (ed.) Temelji moderne demokratije: izbor deklaracija i povelja o ljudskim pravima: (1215– 1989), Beograd: nova knjiga, 13–22. Blake 2006: d. h. Blake, Walt Whitman and the Culture of American Celebrity, yale: yale university press. Brkić 1972: s. Brkić, Volt Vitman, In: Svetla Lovina. Beograd: nolit, 116–136. fletcher 2004: a. fletcher, A New Theory for American Poetry: Democracy, the Environment, and the Future of Imagination, cambridge: harvard university press. folsom 1992: e. folsom, The Whitman recording, iowa: Walt Whitman Quarterly Review, 9, Vol. 4, iowa: 214–216. hanke 2011, s. h. hanke, On Democracy Versus Liberty, <http://www.cato.org/ publications/commentary/democracy-versus-liberty>. 27.01.2016. karbiener 2004: k. karbiener, Walt Whitman and the Birth of Modern American Poetry: Course Guide, prince frederick: recorded Books. killingsworth 2007: m. j. killingsworth, The Cambridge Introduction to Walt Whitman, new york: cambridge university press. lončar-Vujnović 2007: m. lončar-Vujnović, The symbolic presentation of some transcendental and the elements of mystical realism in Walt Whitman and emily dickinson, kosovska mitrovica: Zbornik radova Filozofskog fakulteta, 37, kosovska мitrovica: 221–235. mack 2002: s. j. mack, The Pragmatic Whitman: Reimagining American Democracy, iowa city: university of iowa press. oliver 2004: c. m. oliver, Walt Whitman: A Literary Reference to his Life and Work, new york: facts on file. peri 2000: m. peri, Intelektualna Istorija Evrope, trans. Đorđe krivokapić, Beograd: clio. paine 1995: t. paine, Collected Writings, new york: library of america. purešić 2005: d. purešić, predgovor, In: Izabrana poezija: Volt Vitman, Beograd: itaka, 5–10. [orig.] пурешић 2005: д. пурешић, предговор, у: изабрана поезија: Волт Витман, Београд: итака, 5–10. Thoreau 2010: h. d. Thoreau, On the Duty of Civil Disobedience, hong kong: forgotten Books. 224 Stefan P. Pajović lawrence 1998: d. h. lawrence, retort to Walt Whitman, In: jim perlman, ed folsom, dan campion (eds.), Walt Whitman: The Measure of His Song, dulith, mn: holy cow! press. Whitman 1982: W. Whitman, Complete Poetry and Collected Prose, new york: library of america. Stefan P. Pajović PeSničKi KoncePT uroĐene Lične DeMoKraTiJe VoLTa ViTMana rezime u radu se razmatra motiv demokratije u stvaralaštvu američkog pesnika Volta Vitmana sa stanovišta njene urođenosti u prirodu čoveka. prvi deo rada razjašnjava kako su za Vitmana pojam demokratije i njegova pesnička slika suštastveni ljudskoj prirodi, a ne institucijama koje su ljudi stvorili. stoga, Vitmanova poezija se ne bavi institucijama demokratske države, već pojedincem koji tvori državu, što je opisano u drugom delu rada. osnaživanje kapaciteta za demokratiju kod svakog pojedinca je po Vitmanu prirodan process, bez obzira na čovekovu lokaciju, narodnost ili veroispovest. demokratičnost svakog građanina ne zavisi od oblika vlasti, već isključivo njega samog i prema njemu se država ustrojava, odnosno on je taj koji je oblikuje. kako bi se ovo ostvarilo, Vitman ističe ulogu saosećanja koje je položeno u temelj njegovog motiva demokratije i bez kojeg nijedan državotvorni oncept nije potpun. Ključne reči: Volt Vitman, institucije, pojedinac, demokratija, saosećanje, amerika примљен 1. фебруара 2016. године прихваћен 30. новембар 2016. године 
work_zz6j4pw4wnhytnw7fqhjkjo3mu	----	INFO NYMPHOS MediaTropes eJournal Vol IV, No 1 (2013): 65–82 ISSN 1913-6005 www.mediatropes.com INFO NYMPHOS ERIKA BIDDLE You don’t make love anymore because it’s dangerous, because sometimes there are problems—one person may not be very skilled or the situation may get messy. So you use a kind of machine, a machine that transfers physical and sexual contact by waves…. What is at play is no longer the connector rod in its housing, but the loss of what is most intimate in our experience of the body.… In cybersex, one sees, touches, and smells. The only thing one can’t do is taste the saliva or semen of the other. It’s a super-condom. —Paul Virilio (1995a) Argentinean author Jorge Luis Borges, whose writings celebrate the sensual hyperreality of the world, famously struggled with deteriorating vision. He was such a voracious reader that he read himself blind. Fittingly then, Borges once wrote, “everything touches everything.” Developments in network culture bear this out (see Terranova 2004).1 New communications technologies enable the constant mobility of bodies and information; networks of people, ideas and interests continuously oscillate and grow in changing social landscapes that provide opportunities for digital frottage via always-on interactivity; interactive 1 As Terranova (2004, p. 1) explains it, “To think of something like a ‘network culture’ at all, to dare to give one name to the heterogeneous assemblage that is contemporary global culture, is to try to think simultaneously the singular and the multiple, the common and the unique” about the hyperconnectivity and informational overabundance characteristic of contemporary network societies. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 66 www.mediatropes.com fields of experience become immersive lifeworlds. In these relational and fluctuating fields of affinity, mental and libidinal energies engage on an informational plane, provoking erotic contact between bodies and machines to produce new forms of social control and subjectivization. Theorists such as Michel Foucault, Paul Virilio, Gilles Deleuze, Maurizio Lazzarato, and Tiqqun have discussed the development of a socialization of control that is coextensive with the “information society.” In his “Postscript on Control Societies” (1995), Deleuze extends Foucault’s periodization of regimes of power in Discipline and Punish from the disciplinary power of modernity (biopolitics) onward to what he calls “control societies” (dividuation).2 For Deleuze, control societies mark a shift in dispositif wherein “power relations come to be expressed through the action at a distance of one mind on another” (Lazzarato, 2006, p. 186). Deleuze attributes this movement to the rapid development of communications and informational technologies during the cybernetic turn of the post-World War II era and the mechanisms and techniques of control they enable. Lazzarato extends this analysis of power and technology in control societies from the physical body to subjectivity—or the body’s “psychic life.” As Tiqqun (2001, p. 33) suggests, the post-World War II development of cybernetic capitalism has steadily involved a generalization of self-control, or, “a disposition that favors the proliferation of devices, and ensures any effective relay.” What this statement effectively expresses is capital’s efforts to dominate by its imperative to connect, to stay in the grip of control. This article will investigate the transformation of subjectivities and new forms of social control through this imperative as it manifests in technological advances in communicative media and human-computer interaction (HCI). Considering a selection of contemporary social media platforms, including Twitter, Facebook, and online porn, it will examine modes of performativity and participation on the Internet as forms of haptic control. While haptics are traditionally thought to directly involve touch (“haptic” is Greek for “touch” or “grasp”), it may be more broadly understood as forms of non-verbal 2 From Foucault to Deleuze, the control diagram mutates from territorialization to deterritorialization, from segmentation to perpetuation, from enclosures to open distributed networks, from the external division of masses of bodies as a control mechanism (individuation) to the internal division of bodies into measurable and adjustable parameters as a control mechanism (dividuation). Bogard (2007) provides a definition for dividuation that’s among the clearest I’ve read: dividuation is “the internal division of entities into measurable and adjustable parameters, in the way, for instance, a digital sound sample is divided into separate parameters of tone, pitch, or velocity.” MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 67 www.mediatropes.com communication and somatic feedback. As William Bogard (2007) explains, haptic control is “not just the control of touch but rather a technical and social program for the adjustment of sensibility as a whole, including proprioceptive awareness, the body’s internal sense of its own position and movement relative to the outside world.” The immersivity of haptic forms is thus co-evolving with the Internet’s capacity to control at a distance. With the hyperconnectivity these communications technologies enable, capitalism’s modes of desire and anxiety are inscribed in bodies as processes wherein devices and their users have become increasingly adaptive to each other. We are learning to experience the body as a medium, rewiring our brains for new affects and learning from how machines learn. Haptic Control at a Distance: From Pleasure to Performativity The human body is the magazine of inventions, the patent-office, where are the models from which every hint was taken. All the tools and engines on earth are only extensions of its limbs and senses. —Ralph Waldo Emerson (1885)3 In 1958, at the height of the Cold War, the United States Department of Defense created the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA). In 1969, ARPA hooked up the first two nodes of what would become the ARPANET— an experimental computer network—and a new universe was born. After a decade of development, in 1983, the TCP/IP protocol, which is still the standard used today, was launched. In 1988, the US Federal Networking Council approved the use of the Internet for commerce. It was nineteen at the time, still a teenager by all accounts. In 1992, commercial entities offered Internet access to the general public for the first time in the form of the World Wide Web. Our subjectivities—with or without Internet access—have been networked ever since. As a correlate to this, in Deleuze’s notion of digital control societies, power is increasingly networked into every aspect of social life and 3 Regarded by many as a “McLuhanism” because of the subtitle to his 1964 book Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man, this is Ralph Waldo Emerson writing on the emerging symbiosis between man and machines that was part of his larger project on solitude. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 68 www.mediatropes.com “technology is social before it is technical” (1986, p. 40). Broadband has allowed for the creation of programs that constantly reach out to the Internet for updates in order to forestall death by pre-programmed obsolescence. Many basic applications cannot function without communicating over a network. The necessity of being on the Internet and connected to a server has been built into these utilities. The social feedback mechanisms that the Internet provides parallel the manner in which the programs we use are controlled at a distance. Proponents call this networking of techno-social spaces “ambient intimacy” (Reichelt, 2009) and claim that it enables people to keep in touch with a level of regularity and closeness that real time and distance conspire to make impossible. However, with every promise for connection comes an interface. On the one hand, there is journalist Clive Thompson’s (2007) argument that social media permit a tactile sense of community. He refers to this as “social proprioception.” If proprioception is the unconscious perception of movement and spatial orientation arising from stimuli within the body itself, then social proprioception is an augmented capacity to sense the presence of those in your community while at the same time informing, or reinforcing, where you are in dynamic techno-social space. Almost two decades ago, Virilio (1995b) discussed this phenomenon in terms of “tactile perspective”: the ability to reach at a distance, to feel at a distance, amounting to the shifting of perspective toward a domain the audiovisual perspective of old had yet to encompass. He called this “tele-contact.” What Virilio describes is an early form of haptic control at a distance. Developments in haptic control have been marked by a series of shifts toward control from afar, toward the immaterial exertion of power. And yet the connectivity and intimacy that is promised by these new platforms forever retreats before the grasp of its users, in a manner that recalls Roland Barthes’s discussion of the striptease in Mythologies, a collection of critical articles on French mass culture in the 1950s. Barthes observes that one of the primary experiences of capitalism is its “look but don’t touch!” proviso for the things we most desire. At the core of capitalism’s aesthetic, then, is the seduction and refusal of the body. The striptease illustrates this performative phenomenon as it pertains to the lap dance, where the spectacle of erotic contact doubles as haptic control. Lap dance patrons know their desires will be unfulfilled, but this refusal is idealized, reworked in fantasy and becomes essential to the pleasure of the experience. Thus, the author states, “consumption can perfectly well be accomplished simply by looking” (1999, p. 79). MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 69 www.mediatropes.com As will be discussed in detail, contemporary social media users occupy the same position as the lap dance patron, only their experience is redoubled by the physical presence of the screen and the feedback mechanisms of interactivity. Captured by their focused attention, watching themselves perform a role in a virtual interchange, the possibility for connection is instrumentalized and recoded as instantly attainable self-pleasure. The new forms of social control operate at a distance by activating their subjects’ desires to participate and perform. These desires are inherently erotic—as Marshall McLuhan (1967) wrote, “When information is brushed against information … the results are startling and effective. The perennial quest for involvement, fill-in, takes many forms” (pp. 76–78)—and are heightened by the striptease of online performativity. In his dialogue on love, Plato wrote that human Eros took many forms. Many years later, Sigmund Freud laid the foundations for a neuroscientific understanding of sexual and romantic plasticity. Arguing that a person’s ability to love intimately and sexually unfolds in stages, beginning from infancy through adulthood, he wrote, “The sexual instincts are noticeable to us for their plasticity, their capacity for altering their aims” (Freud qtd. in Doidge, 2007, p. 98). More recently, neuroscientific theories on subjectivity—in particular, neuroplasticity—have helped define new perspectives on social relations. Neuroplastic theory has underlined the importance of polysemic forces (e.g., intensity, attention, movement, sensation) in affecting change in the brain. Neurological connections can be wired and rewired through habitual stimulation of the brain, “neurons that fire together, wire together” (Doidge, 2007, p. 109). What is at stake in control at a distance and in haptic control is a remapping of neural networks. As Norman Doidge informs his readers, focused attention is the condition for massive plastic change (p. 111). The users of these platforms are practising wiring new images and behaviours “into the pleasure centers of the brain, with the rapt attention necessary for plastic change” (p. 109). With every social ping, the brain is rewired for new pleasures and new forms of control. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 70 www.mediatropes.com Haptic Technologies: From the Vibrator to Teledildonics   Hey, don’t knock masturbation; it’s sex with someone I love. —W. Allen & M. Brickman (1977) From the beginning, haptic technologies have been closely linked to the administration of pleasure. The relationship between pleasure and performativity in haptic control and the movement from direct touch to control at a distance is illustrated by the history of the vibrator. The electromechanical vibrator was created in 1887 at the Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris, an institution famous for its experimental treatments of hystero-neurasthenic disorders in women, or “hysteria,” which comes from the Greek word for uterus.4 In Plato’s Timaeus, the cause of the “ailment” was allegedly an errant uterus moving through a woman’s body, to her chest, where it smothered her. In the first century CE, physicians and midwives used manual stimulation to treat hysteria. In the second century CE, the physician Galen diagnosed its cause as the sexual frustration of particularly libidinous women when they are deprived of an outlet for their sexuality. Later, in the Victorian era, it was taken as a sign of the stresses of modern life on the fragile constitution of “pedestal women,” as Victorians liked to imagine the female of the species. Thus, when it crossed the ocean to America, physicians asserted it was a sign that America was finally catching up to the modernity of Europe (see Briggs 2000). According to Rachel Maines’s (1999) history of the vibrator, technology and the orgasm have been linked since the beginning of the Industrial Revolution, when the vibrator was first used by physicians as a “capital-labor substitution innovation” to treat female hysteria. Treating hysteria through pelvic massage had become a lucrative practice for physicians because of the tendency toward repeat business. However, after their initial excitement, male doctors began to search for alternatives as they became tired of the labour involved in manually stimulating women, often for more than an hour at a time. These doctors were reluctant to lose the practice to midwives, so to maintain their incomes and at the same time retain control of the female orgasm and body they turned to the vibrator. One of the earliest of these machines, invented in 1870, was a clockwork-driven vibrator. More devices soon followed and eventually became available for use in the home. By 1918, the Sears catalogue included a home vibrator with attachments, proclaiming it to be “very useful 4 These experiments most famously occurred with French neurologist Dr. Jean-Martin Charcot. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 71 www.mediatropes.com and satisfactory for home service” (Maines, 1999, p. 42). It was one of the earliest widely available electrical home appliances. The release of the vibrator into consumer society falls in line with the historic shift that Foucault outlines in Discipline and Punish from the eighteenth century (when physical torture was the most widely used control device) to the modern era, beginning after the French Revolution and expanding into the early parts of the twentieth century. Foucault writes: “At the beginning of the nineteenth century the great spectacle of physical punishment disappeared…. The age of sobriety in punishment had begun” (1995, p. 14). The administration of bodies became an issue of self-governance and creating discipline, which required living outside of one’s self in order to be self- policing. Putting women on the drawing board, as it were, in a social experiment as to how the body is controlled without the threat of violence proved to be a remunerative venture because the subjects tended toward habituation. The “treatment” of female hysteria served to sustain a patriarchal and proprietary control of women, but also, paradoxically, to fulfill capitalism’s task of putting bodies to work. The vibrator is an almost perfect precursor to social networking, as an example of how we can, as Foucault (1983, p. xii) explains, “desire the very thing that dominates and exploits us.” While the exertion of haptic control through technologies of pleasure is at least as old as the vibrator, in today’s network society, haptic control is marked by a series of shifts toward control at a distance through the feedback loop of online performativity that augments the horizonal5 quality of capitalism’s aesthetics of pleasure that Barthes recognized in the striptease. Nowhere is this better demonstrated than in an online video for fuckingmachines.com involving porn crossover star Sasha Grey, the pseudonym for Marina Ann Hantzis.6 Hantzis was born in 1988, the same year the teenaged Internet was placed in the hands of corporations. In 2006, upon turning eighteen—and becoming legal tender under US statutes—she began her career in porn as “Sasha Grey” and very quickly became an Internet sensation. Her video for fuckingmachines.com was made within nine months of her entering the porn industry. The setting of the video looks like a military research laboratory in Hollywood movies, where clandestine experiments take place. As far as the viewer can see on-camera, the room is cold, grey, modern, and bare except for a light table (approximately six-feet long) and the machine. Grey sits on the table 5 See Gadamer’s work on hermeneutics, relating to Foucault (through Barthes). 6 Sasha Grey starred in Steven Soderbergh’s film The Girlfriend Experience (2009) and had a supporting role in Season 7 of HBO’s Entourage (2010). MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 72 www.mediatropes.com as if waiting for a medical examination alongside her imminent partner, a dildo attached to a chrome shaft driven by a metal wheel. The demonstration begins, and the dildo moves in and out of Grey’s body like a piston as the wheel turns. The contraption is reminiscent of an IKEA plexiglass box display in which an armchair is repeatedly tested by having a piston-powered shaft drive up and down against it to show that the chair can hold up to service in the field. While the video is supposedly an opportunity for Grey to test the pleasuring capacity of the golem fucking machines, one gets an unmistakable sense that she is being tested, the tolerances of her body and mind, as if she were an android sex companion off the assembly line that must have its kinks worked out before being shipped to the consumer. Indeed, she looks like a clone of any one of a number of waifish Hollywood starlets. In the video, the machine starts slowly, and we hear Grey moan and scream profanities as she is repeatedly penetrated, with the camera between her legs and the light box illuminating the prosthetic penis and her genitalia. But then the wheel starts to spin faster and faster, she is penetrated more aggressively, and it becomes impossible to tell whether she is displaying simulated pleasure, or if she is experiencing real pleasure or pain. The machine revs up to a speed where it would be impossible for her to get off and it becomes increasingly difficult to distinguish whether she is being raped by the machine or, more chillingly, whether that is the point and it’s a calculated spectacle produced for an online audience alone in their rooms but for the glow of their laptop screens. The body of Sasha Grey, being raped or pleasured by the machine for an online interactive audience, connects the past and present of haptic control. An interactive technology created for military purposes and turned over to corporations for mass propagation culminates in the broadcast behaviour of a teenager, who has invented another self on the Internet—a porn avatar with a fake name from which she can disassociate—being manipulated by a machine created by physicians to preserve their profits and control of the female orgasm by treating female hysteria. Finally, there is the interactive audience, enjoying the pleasuring/rape of Sasha Grey by a machine that must feed their own sense of inadequacy, and participating by offering commentary on an act to which they will always remain spectators. The comments themselves are performances for which they receive feedback: attention or indifference. For these viewers then, the pleasure of porn is no longer enough; they require the seeking of recognition from other pornographic viewers. In the throes of self-pleasure, haptic control is exerted at a distance. Ultimately, the scene provides both an illustration and metaphor for MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 73 www.mediatropes.com the Internet: a device for the consumption and the annihilation of the body, where participation is little more than the ability to offer comments on a pre-set narrative and freedom is self-subjugation. The Medium is the Massage: Connectivity in 140 Characters or Less Sex is not speaking anymore. It is rather babbling, and faltering, and it is also suffering for it. Too few words, too little time to talk. Too little time to feel. —F. Berardi (2007, p. 200) In 1985, Friedhelm Hillebrand, chairman of the non-voice services committee within the Global System for Mobile Communications (GSM), developed research towards the goal that by 1986 all cellular carriers and mobile phones would support the short messaging service (SMS) for its subscribers (see Millan 2009). This service occupied a smaller data channel, initially used to alert a mobile device about reception strength and to supply it with bits of information regarding incoming calls. It was a system by the cell phone for the cell phone, an internal feedback loop to inform mobile devices of their connectivity to other devices in the network. In a quest for cheap implementation, the capacity of this channel was tweaked to accommodate short alphanumerical messages for subscribers. Research for the character length included analyzing postcard texts and Telex messages and Hillebrand sitting at his typewriter, counting the number of letters, numbers, punctuation marks, and spaces on the page as he typed out random sentences and questions. Nearly all of his messages weighed in at approximately 160 characters, thereby setting the standard service providers still use today. In 2006, Twitter, a microblog service where one can post messages via the Web, instant messaging (IM), or SMS, was born from this research. Twitter permits only 140 characters, which is evidence towards the economy of language we’ve been tasked with ever since the advent of print culture. Since Twitter went viral in 2008, the question “Why do we Twitter?” (Thomas 2009) has been at the forefront of discussion. According to a panel of “experts” assembled by the London Times in 2009, “We Twitter to reassure ourselves that we are alive” (see Pemberton 2009). MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 74 www.mediatropes.com In the most banal sense, this is true. A Twitter emergency broadcast system has been in development since 2008. In May 2008, before news of the 7.9-magnitude earthquake in central China hit major news sources (CNN, MSNBC, the BBC, even the United States Geological Survey), local Twitter users had broadcast the information from their smartphones. More recently, the Iranian, Tunisian, and Egyptian governments notoriously blocked access to Twitter in an effort to curb protests, domestic solidarity efforts, and broadcasting of the unfolding Arab Spring to the international community. Proving faithful to its origins, Twitter can serve as an electronic message in a bottle.   But this isn’t the way the majority of people use Twitter, nor does it account for its ever-growing popularity. Twitter puts myriad possibilities for self-expression and self-promotion into the palm of one’s hand. Twitter’s capacity for immediacy, mediation, and remediation serves as a tool for control at the most deterritorialized level, or as M. Beatriz Fazi (2009) writes, “communicational practices of mass expressivity on the one hand, or, abstract corporeal decay and immaterial representation on the other.”7 Aldous Huxley warned in Brave New World (1932) that new technologies would be called into existence by the social chaos resulting from rapid technological progress in general and the atomic revolution in particular, and develop, under the auspices of efficiency and stability, into the welfare-tyranny of Utopia. Technology would be created and humans would be adapted to a media world that does not really exist outside of its expressions. In another classic work of dystopian science fiction, George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, there’s a discussion about “Newspeak,” a state-ordained language simplified to the point where any independent or contrary thought is impossible “because there will be no words in which to express it” (1983, p. 49). With the kind of communication that’s been adapted for SMS, a new universal language is produced. This text-byte self-expression is rarely more complex than the level of detail provided by the Japanese smart toilets that analyze human waste and send the results to your cellphone (thereby making it easier to Twitter the information).8 The messages are short, repetitive, and they render all authorship and communication generic. Communication, which “transmits to us a universe made up of disconnected images and incoherent remarks,” has become, as Alain Badiou (2006) among others have said, in the 7 I’m adapting Fazi’s argument here. Although she is not explicitly referring to Twitter, she is describing forms of phatic suppression that can easily be applied to the platform. 8 For example, see A. Saenz, (2009, May 12), “Smart Toilets: Doctors in Your Bathroom,” retrieved from http://singularityhub.com/2009/05/12/smart-toilets-doctors-in-your-bathroom/. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 75 www.mediatropes.com mass communication of our most personal discourses, increasingly standardized, commercialized, coded, oriented, and channelled by the infinite glitter of merchandise. In the velocity of this form of communication, people need narratives that are quickly accessible. Hollywood has produced a narrative library that is “ready-to-hand,” to use Martin Heidegger’s phrase, which provides the means to reduce lives into badly written screenplays one text-byte at a time. The minutiae of tweets or status updates may vary but the basics are the same. In Jean Baudrillard’s version of the simulacrum, the copies are identical without an original. Twitter provides tools to turn its users not into exact copies, but indistinguishable variations without an original. Social networking utilities have the capacity to render their users mongers of two-dimensional selves. Mimicking celebrity culture in the way the paparazzi cover every mundane aspect of celebrities’ lives thereby glorifying every social ping, social media users are able to be their own paparazzi, squeezing out fifteen minutes of fame by making themselves visible by dint of bandwidth consumption and, like well- behaved smart toilets, documenting and mass disseminating the most mundane and intimate acts of their daily lives. Phantom Co-Presence: Doing What It Takes to Amass Friends and Followers The amplification and modification of identity is at the core of social media’s seductive appeal and capacity to exert control. Identity is the first thing one creates logging on to any computer service. Users must define themselves in some way—whether it is through a screen name, a personal profile, an icon, or Gravatar—and at the same time, an audience, space, and territory are also defined. The disguises used as online identities reflect a society geared towards image manipulation and self re-creation. What social networking technologies claim to augment is the ability to connect with others and form communities. However, connection and community have become matters of velocity and statistics. Twitter, for example, allows its users to constantly broadcast and update private accounts of their internal lives as if they were the minutiae of a world-historical event in order to attract followers. Facebook provides more of an “application mashup” than Twitter’s comparatively limited functionality and became omnipresent in the same year the latter was invented. As Thompson (2008) writes, “By 2006, Facebook had become the de facto public commons.” MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 76 www.mediatropes.com Franco (“Bifo”) Berardi (2010) suggests that Facebook makes friendship impossible. Like Twitter, its users are fast-wired to assess visibility and emotional self-worth through the accumulation of followers. The Twitter or Facebook user is, from this perspective, what Fazi (2009) has described as a “strange creature in between a behaviourist Golem, pushing buttons and waiting for feedback, and a transcendental ego of Kantian reminiscence, positing itself and its relation to technology as a world-creating operation of knowledge.”9 As Fazi suggests, the promise of self-expression and interconnection does not go much further than the limits of solipsism. The giddiness of participation distracts from how even the most transgressive interfaces bear the mark of an authority that keeps on changing but is an always-present phantom in the “network society” (Castells 1996), an assemblage comprised entirely of social networks that provide means for people to communicate without personal contact. Baudrillard (1998, p. 146) described this as “the ecstasy of communication,” where we are all wired into “connections, contact, contiguity, feedback and generalized interface that goes with the universe of communication.” These connections are distractions from the drama of alienation. This is how the Internet captures its users, but instead of offering the end of spectacle through perfect communication, it does the bait and switch, and we receive something other than what we paid for—the spectacle of communication. Virilio (2005) has said the evolution of the virtual involves the development of a full-fledged aesthetics of play. According to him, play is not something that brings pleasure; on the contrary, it expresses a shift in reality, an unaccustomed mobility with respect to reality, and we are in danger of getting hooked on virtuality. Virilio argues that we’re not only slaves to an addiction with technology but we’re on our way to becoming the “planet man”: a being who is totally self-sufficient with the help of technology, who doesn’t need a partner because he has cyber sex, doesn’t need intimacy because he’s socially networked, and doesn’t have to go anywhere because the information highway starts and ends in his home. All his social responsibility filters through the Net in an infinite feedback loop, communicating and receiving all he needs to sustain himself. This being even has his own gravity in the “cosmic solitude” of the “interstellar void” that Virilio pictures as the future commons (see 1995b).10 9 Fazi, writing from an art historical perspective, is trying to understand the lineage (from the early twentieth century avant-garde to Web 2.0) and phenomenon of abstract expressivity— from technique to technics. 10 Virilio’s vision brings to mind science fiction’s dystopian futures, such as Harlan Ellison’s short story “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream” and Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 77 www.mediatropes.com Virtuality permits and develops a taste for transgression, but the transgressive acts of our false identities leave traces—most notably, guilt. Users can commit antisocial taboo acts in some sort of hazy in-between grey area where there is no apparent responsibility but at the same time feel the twisting of their souls, as they cannot shake the norms their real-world selves live with on a daily basis. Guilt, however, makes people compliant. In The Trial (1925), Franz Kafka’s protagonist Josef K. wakes in the morning to find two men who ask him to go with them. Their only power over him is his sense of guilt, having performed some transgression he cannot identify, and because of this he follows them. So from the Internet dream we wake, the Fausts that we are, and find ourselves guilty; we find ourselves willing to be led. Guilt, then, is yet another way that control is exerted at a distance. Considering that all forms of cybersex occur in the ultra-mediated environment of our digital devices, whether on or offline, is it possible that the Internet biomaps a society of guilt? The perverse pleasure of being subjects to power by participating in its growth fulfills a post- historical yearning for virtual participation. It is a fantasy that can easily be turned into a nightmare, but, like any fantasy, it first appears as a benign place to play out one’s dreams. In these self-authored dramas one can be agent and victim, but there is a Faustian bargain: to experience everything, the good and the bad, be evil, be the victim of evil, but all of it virtually, with a thin sheet of latex between self and world. Conclusion: Mass Hyperconnectivity and the Seduction and Refusal of the Self The spectacle manifests itself as an enormous positivity, out of reach and beyond dispute. All it says is: “Everything that appears is good; whatever is good will appear.” The attitude that it demands in principle is the same passive acceptance that it has already secured by means of its seeming incontrovertibility, and indeed by its monopolization of the realm of appearances. —Guy Debord (1994, p. 15) Odyssey. These are visions of how power plays itself out beyond politics, how the subjugation of the self as a purely virtual phenomenon can easily be exploited, and how the most dangerous machines are the smart and sensitive types. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 78 www.mediatropes.com With the proliferation of online social networking tools and the plastic spaces they provide, the Internet is the new social factory, a computational meta- architecture that frames everyday communications, penetrates every aspect of social relations, monitors and controls the movement of bodies, desires, and capital. Far from a celebration of our individuality, social media platforms represent an inherent distrust of it. In a perverse twist on Foucault’s idea of the panopticon, where the prisoners are in the yard and the jailers are watching over them, with social networking programs we’re both the prisoners in the yard and the jailers watching over ourselves. As Thompson (2008) puts it, “young people today are already developing an attitude toward their privacy that is simultaneously vigilant and laissez-faire. They curate their online personas as carefully as possible, knowing that everyone is watching—but they have also learned to shrug and accept the limits of what they can control.” The mythic agency of social status via connectivity needs to be vigilantly maintained and reasserted, but as Berardi (2009, pp. 162–163) warns, “devices of social control are replaced by automatisms…. The living collectivity has no decisional role any more.” Every connection made is a spectacle of performativity. Every byte that’s measured by some external authority is exceeded by the way we stalk ourselves online. New haptic technologies build on older forms of discipline characterized by surveillance, adding the promise of pleasure to the threat of capture and punishment. Time on the Net is built upon the promise of the erasure of the past. Consumption of the Internet’s highly mediated forms of sociability has long been premised on the belief that our behaviours are consequence free, that in the virtual worlds we inhabit, everything can be erased. Erasure is the mark of capitalism, and consumerism is the habit of destruction and replacement. There can be no permanent satisfaction of desire, only the creation of dissatisfaction following a temporary high. The carrot the Internet offers is the pleasure of participation, the fantasy-generating element, the false intimacy, the developing egocentrism of it—on Twitter, everyone is a star—and the stick is terror and bodily fear (of exposure to AIDS, diseases, germs, violence), the fear of social interaction and alienation endemic to rampant materialism, and the fear of our own mortality, which is ramped up to fever pitch by the practice of consumption. The act of consumption is the running away from a threat that we always carry with us and are reminded of by the very technique of escape—our own annihilation. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 79 www.mediatropes.com The horizonal quality of capitalism’s aesthetics of pleasure that Barthes recognized in the striptease is simultaneously amplified, multiplied, internalized, and made public in the social reproduction of haptic controls. The body, the “magazine of inventions” (Emerson 1885), becomes technological medium in order to implement, habitually even, network society’s haptic controls. Italian author Roberto Bazlen (1973) writes, “True life means to invent new places where we can be ruined … every new work is the invention of a new death.” The Internet, invented under the wings of the US military- industrial complex and now serving as the world’s largest social reproduction factory, may very well be that new place for ruin. MediaTropes Vol IV, No 1 (2013) Erika Biddle / 80 www.mediatropes.com Works Cited Allen, W., Brickman, M. (Screenwriters), & W. Allen (Director). (1977). Annie Hall [Motion picture]. Los Angeles: United Artists. Badiou, A. (2006). The desire for philosophy and the contemporary world. The Symptom: Online Journal for Lacan.com. Retrieved from http://www.lacan.com/badesire.html Barthes, R. (1999). Mythologies. (A. Lavers, Trans.). New York: Hill and Wang. Baudrillard, J. (1998). 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work_zgf2nehjdjg6dbyswqshoo4s3q	----	INTRODUCTION All History becomes subjective: in other Words there is properly no History, only Biography. Ralph Waldo Emerson It is the Abnormal which arouses theoretical interest in the Normal. Norms are recognized as such only when they are broken. Functions are revealed only when they fail. Life rises to the consciousness and science of itself only throughout maladaptation, failure, and pain. Georges Canghuilhem Edward Jarvis's Autobiography (completed in 1873) was dictated, in the third person when he was seventy, to his wife, Almira (1804-1884), a silent figure who was an alter ego throughout their marriage. It gives a retrospective view of his life, is a reworking of the diaries he kept as a young man, and an interesting document of re-written, oral autobiography, but it is not a "confession" in the Starobinski/Rousseau sense, nor an evident psychohistory. It provides a reassuring self-image of a doctor looking back on his earlier life and on the disappointments and frustrations of a medical profession whose acquired norms were tragically contradicted by reality. Edward Jarvis (1803-1884) was the fourth of seven children of a farmer of modest means in Concord, Massachusetts. Between 1820 and 1826 he studied at Harvard, where his friends and room-mates were the future historian and theorist of Jacksonian democracy Richard Hildreth (1807-1865), who was studying law, and the future Unitarian theologian George Washington Hosmer, who was then a student of the Divinity College. In the period of panic and economic depression between 1837 and 1842 he was forced to abandon his dreams of joining the Boston medical establishment, and he went to work in Louisville, Kentucky. It was there that he reached maturity in a society where racial prejudice was accepted as normal. Jarvis belonged to the generation of intellectuals who, between 1848 and 1860, tried to cope with the profound cultural conflict which led from the crisis of the Union to the Civil War. This, apart from a brief reference to his statistical essay on the conditions of health of the Union Army, is not mentioned in the Autobiography. The omission is part and parcel of the limits he imposed on himself as a result of the unexpected revival of memories and dreams. All that he leaves unsaid poses the question of why a psychiatrist actively engaged, like the young Thomas Story Kirkbride (1809-1883), in forward-looking forms of treatment should write his account in the third person avoiding the intimate first person which he had used in his diaries. If Jarvis's autobiography was completely normal within the cultural context in which it was written, it was at the same time anomalous in its contents; we are shown both the mask and the face of its author, an ambivalence which is worth exploring at close range. Jarvis's Autobiography has remained unpublished, although the manuscript seems to have been prepared for publication. Other original documents also exist: his diaries, notes made on journeys, and the more personal correspondence addressed to his wife, Almira. At Concord, Massachusetts, the Free Public Library has carefully preserved the memory of Jarvis's childhood and adolescence, his life as a young man, and his cultural roots. xv https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction Among the most illuminating documents for an understanding of his personality are the diaries, written in his own hand, and sometimes difficult to decipher; the letters to Almira, transcribed with loving care by Almira herself; part of the correspondence and records of contacts, direct or indirect, with a wide range of European cultural figures (for example Adolphe Quetelet (1796-1874), William Farr (1807-1883), Florence Nightingale (1820- 19 10)); and correspondence and record of contacts with such notable Americans as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Dorothea Dix, Horace Mann, Thomas Story Kirkbride, Joseph Camp Griffith Kennedy, Charles Sumner, John Albion Andrew, Charles Francis Adams and Josiah Quincy. The Autobiography, however, was donated to Harvard College and is today held by the Harvard Houghton Library. All this material should be seen as complementing an autobiography that recounts personal events in an impersonal style which expresses a certain detachment from the lived experiences of the past, and a certain self-imposed austerity. This is what makes it appropriate to publish a edition of the Autobiography accompanied where possible by quotations from other surviving personal documents. What we have is the psychological journey through life of a self-made psychiatrist faced with the tragic evidence of disease, and of social and economic problems. There is little, either in the Autobiography or in the other documents, on strictly clinical problems, but much on the political and ethical models which led Jarvis to interest himself in social statistics and to choose psychiatry as his specialty. It does not present the kind of problem tackled in Using biography by William Empson, or faced by Loren Schweininger in the autobiography of James Thomas, an ex-slave of Nashville, an abandoned son of an eminent judge of Tennessee, an individual and a world very different from Jarvis and New England even though virtually contemporary.' In Jarvis's autobiography we are faced with the problem of "understanding" the interplay of mask and face, and the ambivalence of memory and the past. The result is a self-portrait whose contradictions are implicit in the attempt at an objective approach. It is the work of an elderly man who contemplates himself through the memory of the emotions of his younger days evoked by documents of his past. He looks back on that obscure background which tormented his adolescence and young adulthood, from which he managed to escape through self-education and a conscious development of self. He filters the achievements of his present life through his memories of the past. Edward Jarvis's Autobiography is in many ways the product of an environment and culture fairly typical ofNew England, which his self-portrait mirrored. It also constitutes an area of the private Weltanschauung, a typical model of an ethos and of a generation which produced such a huge number of diaries, and, that equally personal literary genre, autobiographies. Many of these writings make more entertaining reading and conceal fewer puzzling complexities than that of Jarvis. It is for this reason that the Autobiography needs to be rounded by the diaries and the letters, which express more authentically aspects of his personality which the autobiographical reconstruction tones down: anxiety and existential doubt, frustration in his profession, a search for authenticity in the midst of annoyance at the limitations of his ' From Tennessee slave to St. Louis entrepreneur: the autobiography ofJames Thomas, ed. Loren Schweininger, Columbia, University of Missouri Press, 1984; cf. William C. Hine, 'A journal of the middle period', in Civil War Hist., 1985, 31(1): 83-4. xvi https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction financial means, and of his cultural models, a certain compensatory megalomania, but also pathos, the ability to feel and to understand romanticism and rationality. THE PSYCHOHISTORY OF A SELF-MADE PSYCHIATRIST The Autobiography of Edward Jarvis, which is probably a close imitation of the Life of John Collins Warren compiled by Edward Warren, was written in 1873. It differs in a number of respects from the autobiography (1853) of the Philadelphian physician Charles Caldwell (1772-1853), a volcanic personality whom Jarvis must certainly have known at Louisville, even though he never mentions him. It differs too from the later, posthumous autobiography (1887) of Samuel David Gross (1805-1884), a prestigious physician well-known for his book Lives of eminent American physicians.2 The two most fundamental differences are: first, that Jarvis's Autobiography was dictated by its author and remained an unpublished manuscript, and second, that he intentionally avoided the subjective approach thus concealing both his true self and his motives for writing his life story. It is interesting to contrast Jarvis's manuscript with Charles Caldwell's book, in which the author is constantly present as the first person narrator, as well as being culturally more at ease and displaying undeniable literary qualities. Caldwell was cheeky, arrogant, and paradoxical; he possessed an irresistible sense ofhumour, was passionate in both his life and work, and was an extremist in everything. He was exuberant and candid about his loves, and hates: one of whom was Benjamin Rush (1745-1813), another author of a posthumously published autobiography. Caldwell was a bon vivant, testing more pretty women on his European journeys than epidemic parasites. In total contrast to Jarvis, Caldwell lives in his writing where memory and the past are not kept separate. For this reason, he is very explicit about his model, the autobiography of Benjamin Franklin, because "the best historian is he who is historian of himself'.3 In 1873 when Edward Jarvis started to dictate his autobiography, that of John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), written between 1853 and 1856, was published in London. Even if Jarvis did not read this, he moved in the same circles and the same intellectual world of Benthamite Utilitarianism which was so familiar to those who were interested in social statistics. A few years previously, one of the great figures whom Edward met on his journey to London, the eccentric, famous and typically Victorian Henry Brougham (1778-1868), who had been Lord Chancellor of England, wrote his autobiography, rather less lucid than his famous speeches in Parliament and in the law courts, before dying in his nineties at Cannes. 2 Life of John Collins Warren, 2 vols, Boston, Mass., Ticknor and Fields, 1860. Autobiography of Charles Caldwell, M.D., Philadelphia, Lippincott, Grambo and Co, 1855; reprinted with a new introduction by Lloyd G. Stevenson, New York, Da Capo Press, 1968. The autobiography of Samuel D. Gross ends in February 1884, cf. Autobiography ofSamuel D. Gross, with sketches ofhis contemporaries, edited by his sons, Philadelphia, George Barrie, 1887. Like Jarvis's Autobiography it begins with a dream, but a distressing one because it is concerned with death and burial. On Philadelphia cf. vol. I, pp. 29 and 32; cf. also his Lives ofeminent American physicians and surgeons of the nineteenth century, Philadelphia, Lindsay and Blakiston, 1861. 3"Of that wonderful man the biography written by himself-plain, simple, and unlabored, as it is-contains, notwithstanding, an amount of philosophical teaching, tenfold more abundant, genuine, and useful, than could have been incorporated in it, by all the other biographers on earth. It is hardly sufficient to call that composition the autobiography of Franklin." Cf. Autobiography of Charles Caldwell, op. cit., note 2 above, p. 19. Francis R. Packard, in his History ofmedicine in the United States, New York, P. B. Hoeber, 1931, vol. I, p. 487, comments on Caldwell's volcanic personality. For Benjamin Rush, see The autobiography ofBenjamin Rush, ed. George W. Corner, Princeton, published for the American Philosophical Society by Princeton University Press, 1948. xvii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction Is there a connection between this widespread fashion for writing autobiographies, the specific model of previous autobiographies of physicians, and this anomalous autobiography of Edward Jarvis? Certainly an interest in self-history or diary, like self-portraiture or autobiography, formed part of a whole culture. In the Boston circle which was closest to Jarvis, Samuel Hoar (1778-1856) wrote an Autobiography ofseventy years, which was later published posthumously in 1903. Henry Ingersoll Bowditch (1808-1892) left diaries and letters which were published by his son in 1902. The former child prodigy Theodore Parker (1810-1860) left a journal as well as a massive output of letters and sermons, among which, according to some scholars, lies the origin of Lincoln's dictum "Government of the People, by the People, for the People". Another ex-child prodigy, Andrew Preston Peabody (1811-1893) poured out his ego in 190 publications. Charles Francis Adams (1807-1886) left diaries and correspondence which are still keeping historians busy even after the seven volumes already published. His son Charles Francis (1835-1915), who was also a relative of John Quincy Adams, left an autobiography in his turn, and James Kendall Hosmer (1834-1927), son of Edward Jarvis's closest friend, bequeathed his autobiography to the Minneapolis Historical Society. From the extensive women's writing of this generation may be mentioned The record of a school, about A. Bronson Alcott's Temple School in Boston, written by Elizabeth Peabody and published in 1835. Almost all the writings of Margaret Fuller Ossoli are autobiographical, and her memoirs were published in 1852 by James Freeman Clarke with the help of Ralph Waldo Emerson and William Ellery Channing.4 Eighty years and more by Elizabeth Cady Stanton (1815-1902), published in 1898, with its vivid evocation of her feminist battles in 1848, is another autobiographical work. The dreamlike quality of much Victorian poetry imported from Europe, and the furore and interest raised by Thomas De Quincey's Confessions ofan opium-eater, published in London in 1822, and in Boston in 1854,5 had an impact on America. As did the hundreds of thousands of European immigrants from different cultures, seeking a new Jerusalem across the Atlantic and an escape from the rancours and bitterness of their origins. Once in America, their hope often turned to disillusionment, and, although moral therapy or the 4 Cf. Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, Boston, Phillips, Sampson, 1852, microfilms, Harvard University Library; Memoirs ofMargaret Fuller Ossoli, with notices of her life by J. F. Clarke, R. W. Emerson, and W. H. Channing, 2 vols, Boston, Robert Brothers, 1881, re-issued, New York, B. Franklin, 1972; The letters of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, edited by Robert N. Hudspeth, Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 1983; Love-letters of Margaret Fuller Ossoli, 1845-1846, with an introduction by Julia Ward Howe to which are added the reminiscences of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Horace Greeley and Charles T. Congdon, New York, AMS Press, 1970; Margaret Fuller Ossoli, Essays in American life and letters, edited by Joel Myerson, New Haven, College and University Press, 1977; idem, At home and abroad: or, Things and thoughts in America and Europe, ed. Arthur B. Fuller, Boston, Crosby, Nichols, 1856; idem, Woman in the nineteenth century, and kindred papers relating to the sphere, condition and duties of woman, ed. Arthur B. Fuller, Boston, Roberts Brothers, 1893, re-issued, Columbia, University of South Carolina Press, 1980. Cf. Cheryl Cline, Women's diaries, journals and letters. An annotated bibliography, New York and London, Garland Press, 1989. S Confessions ofan opium-eater, London, Taylor and Hessey, 1822; Boston, Ticknor, Read and Fields, 1854. On the topic see also the bibliography in Alethea Hayter, Opium and the romantic imagination, Berkeley, University of California Press, 1968; David T. Courtwright, Dark paradise: opiate addiction in America before 1940, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1982; idem, 'Opiate addiction as a consequence of the Civil War', Civil War Hist. 1978, 24: 101-11; Arthur Hyatt Williams, 'The ancient mariner: opium, the saboteur of self-therapy', Free Associations, 1986, n. 6, pp. 123-44; Grevel Lindop, The opium-eater: a life of Thomas De Quincey, London, J. M. Dent, 1981; R. Walter Custey, et al., 'Survey of opiate addiction among females in the United States between 1850 and 1970', Publ. Health Rev. 1972, 1: 5-39. xviii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction highly popular derivatives of opium became less and less effective as remedies for depression, malnutrition, infections and alcoholism,6 opium-induced dreams of paradise were common cultural themes, not simply a passing fashion. They frequently resulted in the most extreme expression being given to memory, individual experiences, and personal histories. None the less, the question remains as to why Edward Jarvis decided at the age of seventy to turn to his diary notes and to his letters, and dictate his autobiography. At the time he was writing, it would have been possible for him to have read Charles Caldwell's autobiography, which in no way resembles Jarvis's labours in terms of content, but the form is almost identical. It begins with a description ofchildhood, goes on to education, problems of work and career, then to journeys, and ends with a list of publications. The two men had nothing in common other than the medical profession. Even here, Charles Caldwell shone more; and achieved greater fame among his contemporaries, and greater success in his neurotic desire to assert his supposed superiority, the cause of violent polemics. They did, however, share a romantic scorn of mediocrity, and of everything that made life second-rate. Both had a certain self-centredness which caused psychological problems in their relationships with others. Whether or not Edward Jarvis was influenced by the precedent of Charles Caldwell's autobiography is difficult to know. However, more than in his other writings, Jarvis was completely absorbed in the task of talking about himself, and he never mentions Caldwell. It would seem that there were two people who provided the main inner supports to Jarvis's life. To them perhaps Jarvis owed the fact that he would not be forgotten by history and would finally gain more recognition in the future than his contemporaries had granted him. The first was Jarvis's wife, Almira, who was also born in Concord. She was present psychologically and physically throughout the whole of Edward's adult life, and in fact was already his companion in adolescence. Hers is an image of tenderness and silence: a great love, persevering, profound, delicate, romantic, and reciprocal. A silent alter ego, Almira was the source of emotional equilibrium for Edward, his principal correspondent and the worthy copyist whose labours save the reader of a century later from the minute and sometimes illegible handwriting of her husband. Almira was capable of giving formidable support to Edward even when he started to bring patients to live in his house, an approach which could be described as an early form of family-group psychotherapy. She was perhaps helped here by the experience she acquired when two close relatives among the Hunts of 6 Cf. Gerald Grob, Edward Jarvis and the medical world ofnineteenth-century America, Knoxville, University of Tennessee Press, 1978; idem, Mental institutions in America: social policy to 1875, New York, Free Press, 1973; idem, The state and the mentally ill. A history of Worcester State Hospital in Massachusetts, 1830-1920, Chapel Hill, University of North Carolina Press, 1966; Immigrant and insanity: dissenting views 1883-1914, ed. G. Grob, New York, Arno Press, 1980; Massachusetts Commission on Lunacy, 1854. Insanity and idiocy in Massachusetts: Report of the Commission on Lunacy, 1855, by Edward Jarvis, a critical edition by Gerald N. Grob, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1971. Cf. also Barbara Gutmann Rosenkrantz, 'Booby-hatch or booby-trap: a new look at nineteenth-century reform', in Social Research, 1972, 20:733-43; idem, Public health and the state: changing views in Massachusetts, 1842-1936, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1972; Charles Rosenberg, The cholera years: the United States in 1832, 1849 and 1866, University of Chicago Press, 1962; Nancy Tomes, A generous confidence: Thomas Story Kirkbride and the art of asylum keeping 1840-1883, Cambridge University Press, 1984; John Harley Warner, The therapeutic perspective: medical practice, knowledge and identity in America, 1820-1885, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1986. xix https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction Concord committed suicide, one of whom, Martha Hunt, is described in the Blithedale romance by Nathaniel Hawthorne under the name of Zenobia, who has been wrongly seen as modelled on Margaret Fuller. After a long life together, from adolescence to old age, Almira survived Edward by just two days, and was buried beside him on 5th November 1884 in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery at Concord, the true home of them both. This parallelism emphasizes the strength of a psychological and emotional symbiosis which lasted virtually a lifetime. The second person of great importance to Jarvis, Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882), was very different but had deep roots in the spiritual, human and cultural common ground of Unitarian Transcendentalism. Emerson was born the same year as Jarvis, and died a year earlier. He had a different kind of sensibility and the stature of the two men is not comparable. They had infrequent meetings but shared a common ethic. The person who acted as the link between them was the Unitarian pastor Ezra Ripley (1751-1841), an intimate friend of Emerson, whom Jarvis continually cites. In January 1832 Jarvis wrote in his diary, in his difficult handwriting, "I confess this day-dreaming is wrong".7 Since November of the previous year, the diary had been interrupted by much "anxiety",8 as he explains in three pages of hieroglyphics, doubts and attempts at self-discipline: My mind is in undisciplined state. I have accustomed myself from early youth to day-dreaming. I delight to revel in reveries, in imagining myself in certain conditions, with certain means of doing good and in power, in affluence, in respectability. This has unhinged my mind. I find my eyes on any book, my thoughts far from it. My subjects are far from being well diges[illegible] my cures well studied out. In these reveries my thoughts in their creation have always created for me a pure character one with industry, energy, talent virtue means [illegible]. Some good has arisen from this, for this has been my conception of a perfect character, which has tended to fix my moral principles, to choose my notions of right and wrong in certain conditions. Nevertheless this has been accompanied with circumstances which has [illegible] for affect the principles in question or their application but it has lessened the power of their conceptions, their influence over me. I confess this day-dreaming is wrong. I confess that I have indulged it against conscience. It has had a power like a charm over me, with its siren influences has very often drawn me very far from my duty. I know my failing. I was conscious of being astray, but my enchanter threw such a veil over the sin, such a beauty over the temptations that it dulled my moral perceptions for the moment and I was happy [illegible] in sin! I have long been in this habit. Not all the creations are alike but they have a similar character, they are different species of the same genus.9 Anxiety and self-discipline are two of the fundamental components of this young doctor torn between dreams and mediocrity, with ambitions which are not banal and not easily satisfied. "I confess", he wrote, after this sort of self-analysis of his aims, motivations and achievements, "I have a secret bending for notoriety. I like to keep myself before the eyes of others".'0 7 Diary, 2, p. 79. 8Diary, 2, p. 71. 9 Diary, 2, p. 78-9. During these same years an unknown young man, already an alcoholic, Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849) was writing his most beautiful oneiric poems: 'Dream' (1827, 1828), 'A Dream within a Dream' (1827, 1849), 'A Dream' (1827, 1845), and 'The Sleeper' (1831, 1849). '° Diary, 2, p. 76. xx https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction One of the truths of this reality outside the realm of dreams was that in order to develop confidence, and be successful in the Boston cultural and economic establishment, one had to have "character", a term much employed by Jarvis,1I as by Emerson in Self reliance. However, it was not character but money (more in the sense that it granted independence than in the sense of material riches) which for twenty years, until the painful solution of becoming a private psychiatrist at Dorchester, was one of Jarvis's most constant and most mortifying handicaps. Spiritual autonomy and autonomy of material means went hand in hand, even when they did not signify the same thing, in the context of a system of values which Jarvis did not choose, but was constrained to accept. If the access to culture in general, as well as to the medical and the legal professions, was open to members of the social strata from which Edward Jarvis came, access to the establishment (which in medicine meant the top positions in hospitals and universities) was more restricted. This required above all long studies plus specialization, preferably in Europe, but also family traditions and political sponsors. So although it was not strictly essential to belong to an economic elite, in practice the costs greatly restricted access. Virtually the only people who could become part of the cultural elite were those who belonged to the economic elite. In Europe, access from below to the most important institutions, medicine and the law included, took place via the patronage of various faiths and traditions. In the United States, the religious organizations were very important, as was a friendly attitude on the part of the Freemasons' Lodges or corporations borrowed from the English model, or the same kind of institutions which functioned in Europe. 12 But family strategies counted everywhere. For Boston the term of "New England Brahmin" has been used and over-used like all commonplaces which have some truth in them. Bostonian medical culture was presided over by men of quality who came from groups of interrelated families whose manoeuverings turned genetic into professional inheritance. In the first quarter of the nineteenth century, when Jarvis was trying to find his way in the medical profession, the Harvard School contained many prestigious figures. There was James Jackson (1777-1867) who would no doubt have been succeeded by his brilliant son (who had studied with Louis Joseph Desire Fleury (1818-1872) in France) if his tragic death had not prevented this; John Collins Warren (1778-1856), a member of an important Masonic dynasty; John Gorham (1783-1829), Warren's son-in-law; and Jacob Bigelow (1786-1879). There were also doctors such as Benjamin Waterhouse, who was dismissed, and John White Webster, who fell into debt to a certain Parkmoun after the failure of real estate deals and was executed for having killed his creditor, cut the body into pieces, and hidden them in his Harvard laboratory.'3 These were Jarvis's professors, and it was among them that he sought necessary influential friends, as well as among .the Unitarians, that other network of Boston society; apart from these he had simply to rely on his personal friends, Almira, and his own abilities. Concord had its doctor, Josiah Bartlett (1797-1878) who was a personal friend of Emerson, a hygienist and a campaigner against alcohol, greatly respected among the local " See below p. xxii. 12 See The invention oftradition, ed. E. Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger, Cambridge University Press, 1983, pp. 295-6. '3 See Packard, op. cit., note 3 above, pp. 438-50. xxi https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction community, with the exception of the bar-owners. It was suggested to Jarvis that he set up practice in Northfield and, seeing that his childhood friend and schoolmate George Washington Hosmer had also decided to go there as minister, he joined him. He earned very little at this post and was isolated; the only profit he gained was the publication of a modest survey article on the 1832 cholera outbreak at the nearby village of Warwick. In his diaries, even his handwriting is altered by his exasperation. He describes the two other local doctors as follows: "Drs Mead & Blake my active and my principal rivals, who would not hesitate at falsehood & defamation of character. Blake is a smart bold drunkard. Mead a sly [illegible] insinuating very polite flatteries'.14 He then returned to Concord. But here the quality of life, and the social and philanthropic activities to which he devoted his energies did not compensate for the fact that he continued to be in debt to his father and Samuel Hoar, and under the shadow of Josiah Bartlett. With the latter, however, he got on very well, and it was with him that he published his first medical article. He thus decided on a move to the West, that sort of Purgatory for restless souls (like that of the turbulent Charles Caldwell), and was provided with the names of friends and contacts by the faithful George Hosmer. It was there that he spent the years of the severe depression of 1837-1842. He came out of this unscathed, but was still unable to repay his debts. It was not until 1843 that he returned from Louisville, Kentucky, which at that time was one of the centres with the highest growth in demand for slaves. 15 It was only then, at the age of forty, with the start of a private psychiatric practice at Dorchester which proved both rewarding and profitable, that he became really independent financially. As a consequence, his scientific prospects remained limited. All Jarvis's writings are dominated by the problem of money, nevertheless, he left $40,000 to his heirs. When at the end of his life he drew up a balance-sheet of the achievements of his ex-classmates of 1826, there was in his descriptions of them a constant and almost neurotic concern with their economic success and their "character". Thus Charles E. Kennedy, for example, a son of Irish immigrants, who had to abandon medicine to support his family as a baker, is summarily dismissed. He showed no character. ... a high scholar in his pursuits but wanting self-confidence, energy and tact; he never pursued his profession and took up his father's trade for the support of his mother's family at his other parent's death. With more wordly force he would have done much for himself in his profession; but wanting this he lived and died without fame or name, and we trust an accepted Christian.'6 He had tuberculosis from which he died in 1836, but that was of no importance, it seems. 14 Diary, 2, pp. 55-6; see also Grob, Edward Jarvis, op. cit., note 6 above, pp. 30-4. 15 R. W. Fogel, S. L. Engerman, Time on the cross, vol. 1: The economics ofAmerican Negro slavery, vol. 2: Evidence and methods. A supplement, 2nd edn, New York, Little, Brown, 1974, vol. 2, p. 154. 16 See also HUA, 'Harvard College - account of the class 1826' by Edward Jarvis, "I began this record soon after we left college. I intended to write somethings of each classmate every year. But I could not always hear anything yearly of all. I would gladly have written more fully, but want of time and space prevented. Edward Jarvis (signed)". It is one of the last works of Jarvis, in fact a sort of short biography-necrology of his past friends and companions, their successes or failures, but all very alive in his affection and memory. xxii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction This kind of judgement shows a lack of understanding and imagination that also explains part of the repetitive and ponderous aspects of Jarvis's writing. He suppressed completely the worries and doubts which appear frequently in the diaries, and summoned up an image which he laboriously constructed for himself as much as for others, an image which he used as a solution for his inner conflicts, doubts, and existential problems, and which he believed coincided with the Unitarian ethic which he chose'7 and practised until his death. He took this ethic from his English co-religionists, and it later co-existed with the Utilitarian influence. But, in addition, there was in him an element of romantic pathos, with its vision of an American culture of constitution, democracy, and humanistic ideals, whose history had yet to be written, whether by Jacksonians like George Bancroft or Whigs like Francis Parkman. These traits and others reveal a great deal. It is necessary, therefore, to restore these unexpressed emotions, to plumb those silences which are easiest to fathom, to distinguish introjection from memory, to penetrate shadows with the help of very minor episodes. An example can be taken from Jarvis's journey to Europe. His visit entailed a congress of statisticians, a series of Victorian dinners in London, a diplomatic incident (in which Jarvis claims to have played a more important role than can be proved), some sightseeing, a few vaguely Dickensian visits to hospices, schools, hospitals, model-factories and farms, and an attempt, soon abandoned, to visit slums both in London and in Paris. At Birmingham, Jarvis met the Sardinian consul, a representative of the newly-born state of Italy. He did not mention this in the Autobiography, but he wrote to Almira about it at length.'8 It is undoubtedly the case that Jarvis had had little contact with Italy. Perhaps he had seen some Garibaldi cartoons that Thomas Nash sent to the American and British press, such as the irresistible Punch which Jarvis certainly read because he cited it. His old room-mate Richard Hildreth, by this time a well-known historian, was just then getting ready to leave for Trieste, where he had been appointed American consul, and where he died. But in spite of these fragmentary contacts, we might still ask ourselves where Jarvis's 17 On Unitarians, transcendentalism and the nineteenth-century reforms, cf. MHS, James Freeman Clarke (1810-1888) papers. 18 "We have now in the house Mr. Parviso, Sardinian Consul in Birmingham. He eats in the coffee room where I meet him often and find him very social and agreeable. We talk much of Italy, Sardinia, the Pope and the papal states, Naples, Napoleon, United States, &c. subjects interesting to both of us. He is from a liberal monarchy, and an officer of King Victor Immanuel, a Catholic and an Italian; and yet he talk [sic] as freely about all matters connected with these as we do. As to the Pope he says he is a very good Pope, priest, spiritually and ecclesiastically a good man; but a poor ruler and temporal magistrate; . . . Mr. P. does not have much confidence in Napoleon. As a man of sagacity and talent he respect [sic] him, but as an honest man to be relied upon, he distrusts him. If he does good things, as he did in the late war for the liberation of Italy from the Austrian power, it was mainly because that godliness was profitable in that instance. We discussed the future of Naples which is very doubtful. It would apparently be desirable to form one great Italian nation under a free government like that of Sardinia, which should include all, both Northern and Southern Italy. But there is a great diversity of character between the people on the two sides of the papal states. The northern are energetic, industrious, self-relying, the southern idle, lazy, dependent. In Naples there is, indeed, a poor government, but there is also a poor and listless people. Would they care for and sustain a free government? This is an important question which the present insurrection in Sicily and the movements there to throw off the Neapolitan yoke, may bring to an early issue, and then we shall see if they can get rid of the Bourbon dynasty and take care of themselves. The consul is much interested in the United States and understands the character of our people and the nature of our government. He wanted to know many things in respect to us, our national relations, the slavery question, the north and south, Congress, the state authorities, &c. He said it would be a great injury to the world, to human advancement, if our Union should be dissolved." Cf. CFPL, Jarvis European letters, vol. 2, E. J. to his wife, Great Malvern, May 12, Saturday Ev. 1860, pp. 116-20. xxiii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction interest in Italy came from. He did not, after all, know the language; and, notwithstanding the work of Pietro Maestri (1816-1871), Italy has very little place in his collections of statistics. His interest was not prompted by the fact that Italian beachs were the last hope for the tubercular, or perhaps merely the latest expensive myth advised by doctors in desperate cases. Jarvis certainly did not know Giuseppe Barellai (1813-1884), a doctor like himself and philanthropic pioneer of seaside hostels for scrofulous children, or the Neapolitan Negri, who had started to mass-produce vaccine from inoculated cattle in 1842, before this system became known in America thanks to Samuel Warren Abbott (1837-1904). He did not know Filippo Pacini (1812-1883) from Florence, an anatomist and physiologist who was'little known even in Europe. In the enormous bulk of Edward Jarvis's correspondence there are relatively few exchanges with actual Italians, and those took place only after his European visit. One of these was Pietro Maestri of Florence. There has survived correspondence between March and May 1866, and in September 1868, which shows that the two men exchanged publications.'9 Another was Luigi Bodio (1840-1920) with whom Jarvis corresponded ten years later, a man Jarvis would have been bound to know since he was the main author and editor of the statistics of unified Italy. Two letters from him in English are preserved, written from Rome on 3rd November 1874, and 12th September 1877.20 Jarvis's interest in such an apparently unimportant encounter with an Italian consul came from elsewhere: his own background and two people very close to him who had written about Italy and visited it, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau (1817-1867), the first more than the second. I refer to the consternation aroused, at Concord especially, by the tragic drowning of Margaret Fuller Ossoli (1800-1849). Her death, with that of her son Angelo, and husband Giovanni Angelo Ossoli, in the shipwreck of the Elizabeth on 19th June 1849 was not only traumatic for Emerson, but also shocked and moved many people close to him. The bodies, apart from that of young Angelo, were never recovered, nor was the baggage which included a manuscript by Margaret Fuller Ossoli on the history of the Italian Risorgimento cited repeatedly by Emerson,2' who, in 1852, together with James Freeman Clarke and William Ellery Channing, published two volumes of Memoirs of Margaret Fuller Ossoli. It is therefore an apparently chance event which shows us that Jarvis had a deeply emotional relationship with a world with which he had scarcely any contact, an emotion he hid, but which was nevertheless important to him. It was a world which was not limited to '9 BCLM, Edward Jarvis, Letters Book, 1867-1869, B MS b 56.4, vol. 9, p. 121: Letter to "Sign. Maestri, Florence, Italy: Dear Sir, I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt Sept. 3, 1868, from you a valuable parcel containing Reports: 1. Elezioni Amministrative e Politiche anni 1865-66; 2. Trattura della seta, anno 1866; 3. Le Opere Pie, anno 1861, which are important additions to my library and aid in my studies and writing. The very important Reports on the Population and the Mortality of Italy which you sent me in 1867 through the Smithsonian Institution [illegible] have not reached me. I fear they have been lost on the way. I wrote to Mr. [illegible] asking him to reach for them in his store, and if possible to send them to me but without success. May I hope that you will be able to respect the address as those documents are of great importance to us. I sent to you, May 1866, a journal containing reports on Census Population, Mortality, Education, Insanity, Blind [illegible] through the Smithsonian Institution. You will receive them in due time. Hoping to be able to continue this pleasant and profitable interchange of statistics. I am with high respect very truly yours, Edward Jarvis." 20 CFPL, Edward Jarvis Papers, safe shelf 6, item 9, See also, ibid. a letter from Maestri, from Florence, 1 May 1868 with a reference to a Miscellany of Italian Statistics. 21 Gay Wilson Allen, Waldo Emerson, New York, Viking Press, 1981, p. 539. xxiv https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction the key figures in the family circle: his father, his brother, and his mother, who is barely mentioned in the Autobiography but pathetically vivid in the diaries. It also included two figures outside that circle: Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau, who, by introducing wider cultural perspectives and stimulating new men in Unitarian Transcendentalism, played a fundamental role in Jarvis's life. It seems that Jarvis's activity in the years after his return to Concord and later as a doctor at Dorchester can not be fully understood if seen in isolation from the environment in which he was born. For he never cut himself off from the emotional tensions inherent in it, none of which was produced by his study of medicine or by his later contacts with the group of English Benthamites. They originated with the ethical models of men of his own generation such as Emerson. Although there is no mention of Emerson in the Autobiography, and their relationship was mediated by their common friend Ezra Ripley, the Harvard Houghton Library holds two letters from Jarvis to him; and we know that Emerson did all he could to support Jarvis's candidacy to the Boston General Hospital together with his ex-professor of physiology, James Jackson. One of Jarvis's letters is dated 28 July 1834, and tells the "Rev. Waldo Emerson ... I want very much to read your Journal in Europe".22 The other was sent from Dorchester on 9th November 1843, and invites Emerson to speak to the Committee on Public Lectures at Dorchester where "we will prefer to hear your lecture upon Natural History or upon the monuments-architecture . . . of Italy, which you formerly delivered in Concord"; it is signed "very truly and respectfully yours Edward Jarvis". 23 It should be remembered that in June 1834 Waldo Emerson was just emerging from the period of deep depression which followed the death from consumption, in February 1831, of his wife Ellen Tucker, a creature "too lovely to live long", who had been constantly under the care of James Jackson. This was during the period following Emerson's resignation from his pastorship (October 1832). Between December 1832 and October 1833, Emerson had been travelling in Europe, and had visited Italy, and in England had met Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834), Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) and William Wordsworth (1770-1850), who was also Edward Jarvis's favourite poet, and is cited by him in his 'Traditions and reminiscences of Concord'. In 1843 Jarvis had recently returned from Kentucky and, after the difficulties mentioned, in which both James Jackson and Waldo Emerson gave him friendly support, had finally obtained a situation at Dorchester. Emerson was by this time a famous man, renowned, polemical, and actively committed in the battle for abolition, a man whose plan to free the slaves could have averted the Civil War with its appallingly high cost in lives and property.24 It was also in 1843 that Jarvis started his permanent activity as a psychiatrist, and as a specialist in social statistics. This began with his criticism of the biased and racist theories of Secretary of State John Calhoun (1782-1850) which were based on incorrect calculations taken from the American census of 1840.25 Quite apart from Emerson's generous support, therefore, Jarvis's re-encounter with Emerson and with what he represented in those years is anything but incidental. During 22 HHL, b MS Am. 1280 (1694), Concord, 28 June 1834, E. J. to Rev. Waldo Emerson. 23 HHL, b MS Am. 1280 (1695), Dorchester, 9 November 1843, E. J. to Rev. Waldo Emerson. 24 Allen, op. cit., note 21 above, p. 26; Albert Deutsch, 'The first U.S. Census of the insane (1840) and its use as pro-slavery propaganda', Bull. Hist. Med., 15 May 1944, 469-82. 25 Grob (ed.), Insanity and idiocy, op. cit., note 6 above. xxv https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction this period, Jarvis also had correspondence with Horace Mann (1796-1859) which continued until the latter's death. Mann devoted his life to plans for public education, to which Jarvis was also deeply committed. "The great argument of the increase of productive power by education is irresistible", he wrote in a letter to Mann in July 1848, emphasizing that the problem of the deep South was that of the ignorance of the "black and colored population" and going at length into the Free Soil Movement. "I have just read Uncle Tom's cabin twice", he wrote to Mann in April 1852, "It carries me back to Kentucky to its sorrows and seems to float them again and all the old associations stand upon me. That is a true, a faithful book. Is this book read at Washington? will it be sold in the Southern States?"26 In these same years Jarvis corresponded also with Dorothea Linde Dix (1802-1887), who was collecting evidence for her subsequently famous Memorial ofD.L. Dix, praying a grant oflandfor the reliefand support ofthe indigent curable and incurable insane in the United States of which 5000 copies were printed and presented to the Thirtieth Congress of the Senate on 28th June 1848. Only one letter from Jarvis to Dix is conserved in the Harvard Houghton Library, dated Dorchester 25th May 1844; Jarvis expresses regret for having no copy to send her of his article 'Insanity among the colored populations'. 27 Edward Jarvis had a different and ambivalent relationship with Henry David Thoreau, who was sapped by tuberculosis and whose personality was altogether dissimilar. In 1826, during the period in which he was still searching for the means to support himself financially, Jarvis had the nineteen-year-old Thoreau as a pupil in Sunday School. He is not mentioned in the Autobiography. Jarvis met him again, however, later, when the young Thoreau was in the same situation he himself had been in some years previously, and was searching for a post as a teacher. Jarvis tried to help him, but his relationship with Thoreau was uneasy. Scientifically, like many people at the time, he did not take him seriously, and his poetry either did not interest him, or he did not understand it. In his old age, the assessment he gave of Thoreau was poor. Jarvis knew the Thoreau family well. In 1826, Thoreau, fourteen years Jarvis's junior, had in all likelihood attended his classes at the town school in the village centre.28 For a time he was sufficiently close for Jarvis to write from his shortlived residence as a physician in Louisville and recommend the unemployed schoolmaster Thoreau should try the academic job market in the West. They must have 26 MHS, E. J. to H. Mann, Dorchester, 28 July 1848; ibid, E. J. to H. M., Dorchester, 19 April 1852. 27 HHL, b MS Am. 1838 (369), Dorchester, 25 May 1844, E. J. to Dorothea Dix. Jarvis gave the following account of Dorothea Dix's efforts to visit asylums in Scotland which had been told to him by Dr Coxe (see Autobiography, p. 145): "Dr. Coxe told me ... that when Miss Dix of the United States, visited Scotland about six or seven years ago, she wanted to examine the condition of the insane. She found it not easy to obtain access to the places where many of these people were kept. She applied to the Lord Advocate who seems to be a high law and government officer, for authority to enter all these depositories of lunatics: but he refused. At once she took the railway for London, saw the Secretary of State and represented the case to him. Immediately he summoned the Lord Advocate to London and the result was a legal authority granted to Miss Dix to enter and examine the Scottish lunatic abodes. The second result was such an appeal by Miss Dix to the powers that be, in London, that Parliament created a Commission in Lunacy". CFPL, Letter 102 to Almira Jarvis, pp. 271-2, Steamship Persia, Atlantic Ocean, Friday, August 10th, 1860, 2.30 p.m. 28 Robert A. Gross, 'The most estimable place in all the world: a debate on progress in nineteenth-century Concord', Studies in American Renaissance, 1978, Concord Pamphlets, 11, Edward Jarvis, 36-48. See also Familiar letters ofHenry Thoreau, ed. F. B. Sanborn, Boston, Houghton, Mifflin, 1894, p. 3; The correspondence ofHenry David Thoreau, ed. Walter Harding and Carl Bode, New York University Press, 1958, p. 24-5; Walter Harding, The days of Henry Thoreau, New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1965. xxvi https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction met each other often at the Concord Lyceum where both served as curator a few years apart. In 1843 Thoreau secured Jarvis as a lecturer.29 But at the time he did his historical writings on Concord, ten years after Thoreau's death, Jarvis had come to an unflattering estimate of his former pupil. Jarvis did not refer to Thoreau in 'Traditions and reminiscences', but in another manuscript on Concord written two years later he offered this disparaging sketch. A good but undisciplined scholar and close student of nature, Thoreau wrote many books which gave him a high reputation among a limited class [illegible] He was absorbed in matters within himself. In his way he sought self-culture and when he retired from the world it was, as he said, for self-help not to gather power to do others good. He had a distrust of general society. His ideal of the social relationship was very different from that generally entertained. Absolutely honest and conscientious, he had no confidence in his fellow men nor in their business habits, or in the system of trade and finance prevalent in the world. Jarvis was thus familiar with the arguments of Walden and could have been indirectly replying to its picture of Concord. In any case, he and Thoreau converge on similar historical themes in notable ways, although they reach fundamentally different judgements. Walden does not, of course, claim to be a history of Concord. It is an explicit autobiographical account of the author's stay at Walden Pond, in the course of which he alternately pities and scolds his neighbours for the grim, driven quality of their outward condition and offers them the possibility of another way of life.30 But perhaps Edward Jarvis is interesting because he is different from Emerson and Thoreau. He was a middling intellectual, mundanely in conflict with those devils of everyday life, those miniature disasters, which often diminish great achievements; a man relatively protected from the tragic by his religious faith, in which, however, he did not venture far except as a philanthropist; but a man who was capable of making choices in the name of a greater faith in American democracy, a faith which put him alongside Thoreau and Emerson after his fashion. In his search for cultural identity he could look to Charles Dickens and certain Victorian myths.31 There was his obsession, almost fixation, with money, and all the problems of a man dealing with his anxiety about his own mediocrity and the limits imposed by his system of norms and values. Historical perspective can give a human dimension and a certain grandeur to his malaise. But when Jarvis wrote his Autobiography and his 'Traditions and reminiscences', he recalled the memory of the past without reliving its anguish, and looked back from an essentially self-satisfied present, firm in a certain code, which gave him a security he did not have in his youth. As a result, the difference in psychological approach between the diaries and the Autobiography is enormous and their values are worlds apart. They are separated also by the horrors and deceptions of the Civil War. Jarvis remained virtually silent on this, defining it as a "war of rebellion", and, instead, mentioned only the terrible events of the Crimean War with which Florence Nightingale had made him familiar. The 29 Gross, op. cit., note 28 above. 30 Ibid. 31 Cf. E. Showalter, Thefemale malady: women, madness, and English culture (1830-1980), London, Virago, 1987. xxvii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction two wars were similar, according to Jarvis, because "the danger of suffering and loss from wounds and killing in battle was much less than from sickness and death in tents and hospitals.... The army life ... was injurious to the human constitution, laid it open to attack of disease, and lessened its power of resistance" (see Autobiography, pp. 92-3). In 1873 Jarvis girded himself up in autobiographical self-description, leaving the self-analysis of the diaries behind him, and detached himself also from a feeling of restlessness and doubt which had by that time been permanently submerged. The result is a certain loss of the authenticity which, fortunately, can be found in the diaries, and in the letters to Almira. The ideas held by both Emerson and Thoreau were now absent from Edward Jarvis's self-contemplation, no more than distant echoes of youthful malaise. What is unexpressed, however, forces us to fill in and re-order the jig-saw puzzle of the most obvious silences which also mark the limits of this autobiography. We arrive, via a different path, at Gerald Grob's conclusion that "Like countless other human beings [Jarvis] spent most of his adult life in an effort to reconcile traditional belief with those impersonal forces that were leading his country into the modem world".32 Among these "impersonal forces", Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson were certainly more strongly present than James Jackson, whom Jarvis mentions frequently, or William Farr, with whom he corresponds. They were men who continued to dream; and the young Edward who resolved to give up dreams never quite achieved this, or perhaps never wanted to in the midst of a world in which dreams were less and less acceptable. An example of this was the unconventional way in which he entertained his mental patients at Dorchester, reading to them "from his diary or letters written while he was in Europe" (see Autobiography, pp. 78-9). These silent listeners were his chosen interlocutors; and the blind, anomalous, or defective ones were his "benighted children". There is an enchanting innocence in the man and he bears the indelible trace of a great romantic generation. In spite of the limitations of the picture he draws of himself, the historian who decodes it can bring Edward Jarvis into clearer focus; he was a man who chose certain ethical paths which committed him to a life which allowed his dream to exist without being destroyed. A dream which was greater than his innocent megalomaniac fantasies, like the youthful day-dream he had at the bedside of his brother Charles, which is described in the Autobiography, of himself transfigured and removed to a paradise where his companions are his ethical models, or dream-like anagrams, in the persons of George Washington, the Reverend William Ellery Channing, Lord Chatham, and Thomas Aquinas.33 Or like the dream of obtaining recognition which was realized in London, as he wrote with boyish excitement to his wife: This week, Almira, has been one of the pleasantest of my life. Here I was among the men of all the earth whose minds and tastes and pursuits are most similar to my own; and to be thrown into such familiar association with them, to be received so cordially and readily, to 32 Grob, Edward Jarvis, op. cit., note 6 above. 33 However, the interpretation could be different, on the basis of anagrams which frequently occur in dreams. The dream is not recorded in the diaries, but is remembered in the autobiography: it is consequently the memory of a dream of fifty years before (in 1825). The name of Jarvis's best friend was George Washington (Hosmer), but my hypothesis is that two other living personalities are also mingled in the dream: George xxviii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction find myself with them, is certainly a blessing very pleasant to my heart and may I ever be thankful for it. These men offer to send me every thing I want from their countries. I have only to specify what I desire and the direction. Oh, Almira, I am at last to have a census of France. Legoyt offers it as freely as I would one of our Registration Reports. Quetelet is the greatest statistical philosopher of the world. He, too, is as kind as the rest. I thanked him for the books he had already sent me, told him how much I enjoyed his work 'On Man'. He will send me more Belgian matters.34 Or the joy of being publicly announced and socially acknowledged, not merely accepted: I did not go up until I was expressly called out by name. There I sat, Prince Albert in the chair, the science of the world all around me.35 Or again, at long last, access to the Eden of Culture for the dreaming Concord boy, and for the young doctor who begged for something which the Bostonian medical establishment would never have given him: Then Lord Brougham said "we will hear from Dr. Jarvis". What position! I speak to the English Chancellors, Lords, Judges, Parliamentary members, lawyers, men of note and high renown and cultivation! I, the Dorchester doctor, speak to that audience!36 But also the joy, and pride, in his American roots: Little thought my great grand father and grandfather Hosmer eighty five years ago to day when they were so fearful of [and] hostile to the British, that, with less than a century, their descendant would be here among their enemy's children on such peaceful friendly terms with them.37 His visit to Europe was thus the unexpected occasion for the realization of his youthful dreams of fame and recognition, and hence, a sort of revival of youth. In his sixties Jarvis was still proceeding with his statistical research as a tool for building a society designed more in man's measure. The decline of his powers in his seventies was managed with serenity. More and more his hand was substituted by Almira's, and it is to Almira that we owe all the documentation of those years which has been handed down to us. His correspondence with Europe was affected by changes in the times and the twilight of a Washington Adams, the son of the Secretary of State John Quincy Adams (and one of the leaders of the Harvard "students revolt" on 1 November 1818, the sophomore year of Emerson), and Moses Thomas, who in September 1829 celebrated the wedding of Waldo Emerson and Ellen Tucker. Reading Jarvis's dream as an anagram we will find that the names of George Washington and Thomas Aquinas are two symbols of megalomania and also two living references. The anagram's order could be as follows: George Washington (1), Thomas (2), A[dams] (3), Quin[cy] (4), [Mos]es (5), that means: George Washington Thomas Aquine[a]s. Jarvis mentioned his antipathy for Greek, but he never mentioned the sophomores' "Rebelliad", which the professor of Greek, Dr. John Popkin, "old Pop", tried to stop by suspending four of the participants. In the description given by G. W. Allen, the students met under "the Rebellion Tree, a large elm near the Yard", where "Emerson shared the emotions of his classmates and joined them in plucking a twig from the Rebellion Tree and swearing to resist 'Lord Bobo' (President Kirkland) until the suspensions were lifted." Cf. Allen, op. cit., note 21 above, pp. 45-6. On the Adams of Boston cf. Diary of Charles Francis Adams, vol. 8, (until February 1840) ed. Marc Friedlaender, Robert J. Taylor, Celeste Walker, and Richard Alan Ryerson, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1985. 34 CFPL, letter, 32 Norfolk Street, London, 22 July 1860. 35 CFPL, letter, King's College Library, London, 18 July 1860. 36 CFPL, Edward Jarvis Papers, safe shelf 6, item 9. 37 CFPL, letter, Great Malvern, Thursday eve. 19 April 1860. xxix https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction generation of reformers and social statisticians, by the hurricanes of the Paris Commune and the echoes of social conflict in the cities of Europe between the bourgeoisie and that "common people" which Jarvis, recalling Dickens, had sought in St Giles in London and in the Paris faubourgs. From Brussels, on 28th August 1871, Guillaume Joseph Auguste Visschers wrote to say that: L'affreuse guerre qui a sevi presque a nos portes a eu un retentissement dans toute l'Europe et a arrftf bien de travaux scientifiques. Nous commenqons a nous apercevoir combien la vie est courte et combien nous laisserons de travaux inachev6s. Alfred Legoyt wrote from Paris on 30th August that the Bureau De Statistique had been suppressed.38 This old generation looked at the new times with detachment; they were different and violent. Ten years had passed since the "time on the cross", and since William Farr had written to Jarvis not only about statistics but also to ask him to find out whether among the dead or wounded of the battle of Gettysburg and Rappahannock there was an English boy, his son, who had enlisted as a volunteer for the Union cause. In Jarvis's description "Frederick, a boy of 19 left his father's house in London secretly in March 1863 and came to Portland to gratify his intense sympathy with our cause and enlisted in the Main regiment in which he served under the assumed name of Clark . .39 By a tragic irony, Frederick Clark died of "fever" (typhoid?) in a Confederate prison at Richmond, Virginia, in 1864. The new form of conflicts and social problems was perhaps incomprehensible to these men of a romantic, and innocent, generation. VITAL STATISTICS AND MEDICAL KNOWLEDGE (1820-1880) If the Jarvis "self image" is transparent and easily decoded, the coded norms Jarvis had to deal with are more complex. In professional terms, Edward Jarvis did not mask his scepticism: ipecac, antimony, epsom salts (= magnesium sulphate), rhubarb, calomel (= chlorine + mercury), syrup of senna, and laudanum (= opium) cannot cure better than the famous Rush "tranquilizer chaire or "gyrator". Of the mass of people arriving in the American Jerusalem, some would end up as drunkards, or suicides.40 Opium-therapy, in particular, imported from Europe in spite of the "moral-therapy" that avoided it, was dangerous. Although in Franqois Boissier de la Croix de Sauvages's (1706-1767) treatise written in the early eighteenth century, opium is classified among the poisons, the use of opiates for therapeutic purposes was normal and widely practised in Britain. There is an account of it in An inquiry into the nature and properties of opium, 1793, by the English doctor Samuel Crumpe. It had an equally valued place as a universal panacea in popular medicine. Between 1830 and 1860, imports of opium more than quadrupled from the 1830 figure of 22,000 lbs. In the United States, both homeopaths and 38 CFPL, Edward Jarvis Papers, safe shelf 6, item 9. In this bundle is also included a short letter of thanks from Quetelet, 25 November 1873, to "Mademoiselle Melicet Jarvis", probably for some statistics she had sent him. 39 BCLM, Dorchester, 17 November 1866, E. J. to Clara Barton, Washington. 40Cf. Howard I. Kushner, Self-destruction in the promised land: a psychocultural biology ofAmerican suicide, New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1988; Roy Porter and Mikulas Teich, eds., Drugs and narcotics in history, Cambridge University Press, forthcoming. xxx https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction qualified doctors imitated the popular European example with few reservations, and made widespread use of opium alcoholic solution or laudanum (Sydenham's solution) even after Francois Magendie (1783-1855) isolated morphine. William Stewart Halsted (1852-1922), the eminent surgeon at the Johns Hopkins Medical School, took opium in regular doses of 3 grains a day, and after the age of forty-six, 1 grain a day. The generation of physicians brought up on the Manual ofpsychological medicine (1858) by Daniel Hack Tuke (1827-1895) and J. C. Bucknill or on Tuke's Illustration ofthe influence of the mind upon the body (1872), learned and experimented with a whole pharmacology of toxins taken from their experience of anaesthetics. This tradition was fairly normal until the time of Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) (and Freud himself made wide use of it). It also had a role in the treatments of Jean Martin Charcot (1825-1893) at La Salpetriere, though the extent of its use is unknown. However, this was also the generation whose crisis opened the way in America for William James's (1842-19 10) Principles ofpsychology. During the working lifetimes of these physiologist-psychiatrists the fact that biology and chemistry were of secondary importance in hospitals and medical courses may have left more scope for this risky pharmacology and perhaps for the phrenology of Franz Joseph Gall (1758-1829), a very controversial figure in Paris, to flourish. Historians have commented on the "money making mania" of these years, which affected something as apparently unsalable as phrenology. Energetic publicists and showmen such as the Fowler brothers "turned phrenology into a household word as well as into a profitable business", and they "perceived very early that the United States, with its great variety of races and nationalities, offered an unusually good milieu for the study of phrenology.' But gradually between the 1850s and the 1860s there occurred a transformation in notions of the body (which William James was to call "the material self') and of disease, due to advances in the physiology of the nervous system, and especially to the critique made by Paul Broca (1824-1880) of the school of Louis Joseph Desire Fleury (1818-1872). The discoveries of bacteria, protozoa, or micro-organisms responsible for diseases, brought back the "germ theory" of the 1830s and 1840s and radically changed not only the conception of disease but also that of the body. The body became an aggregate of cells vulnerable to attack from other cellular bodies, a very different body from that of previous anatomical physiology. None the less, the parameters of the normal and abnormal embodied and codified in medical practice lasted a long time, for they were deep-rooted in the classification of diseases and in pathological anatomy, and they were considered more fundamental than biology, chemistry or experimental physiology. Many of these parameters were imported by American medical institutions, particularly for concepts of mental and physical health. In addition, for doctors like Charles Caldwell, for the phrenologists, for the hygienists in general, these parameters tended to be ideological tenets. A portrayal of the "normal body" as healthy and American was becoming common precisely in the years when the immigration of innumerable unvaccinated men and women from the old continent was starting dramatically to alter the structures and mentality of the former colonial society. There was a tendency to see the new arrivals as a threat to native American health. But 4' J. H. Cassedy, American medicine and statistical thinking, 1800-1860, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1984, pp. 159, 149. xxxi https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction Puritan morality, with its obsession with the body as a potentially abnormal object to be exorcised, soon lost its sway and in its place came an ethic of a body to be trained, nourished, and organized, no longer by religious morality, but rather by the treatments of hygienists and social reformers. This can be seen in the idea of the "victorious body" which was the result of an "experienced mind", which was itself the symbol of the new mythical generation of Americans: In this country, such is the nature of our free institutions-I mean the boundless facility and encouragement they afford to ambition and enterprise of every description, with all their concomitants (our social condition being in perfect harmony with them)-that the human brain experiences, among us, vastly more of excitement and exercise, than it does among any other people on earth. And that excitement and exercise, I say, adds to the size and strength of the brain, and augments its excellence, as the organ of the mind, with as much certainty, as does a like condition of action increase the size and strength of the blacksmith's arm, and of the lower limbs of the pedestrian, and the opera dancer. Of actual necessity, therefore, if the mind of the United States be not, by nature already superior to that of any other nation (which I believe it to be), it must become so, in the progress of time. It may be erected into a maxim, and safely regarded and acted on as such, that, all other things being equal, the greater amount of national freedom which any civilized people enjoy, the greater will be the strength, the wider the grasp, and the higher the tone and standing of their minds. I mean, of course, their minds, as fashioned by the hand of nature, independently of the effects of education. And being, like all other constitutional qualities, hereditary, native mental superiority becomes, in time, a settled and permanent national characteristic.42 This quotation illustrates well the gap which separated Charles Caldwell from Edward Jarvis's scepticism and lack of enthusiasm for national-phrenologies, for drastic treatments and for dogmatic diagnostic models. In this, as in other things, Jarvis was a pupil of Jacob Bigelow. Jarvis was an unassuming student of medical science, but one who was careful and little tempted by ideology; he tended to stress the importance of environmental and educational factors. No doubt this would have gained him no more recognition than that accorded to Bigelow. He expressed his doubts about drastic forms of treatment by intuiting their highly toxic character. He also saw that adequate food and a decent environment were necessary and that culture was an indispensable means of emancipating people from wretchedness. In his first medical practice in Northfield: "He furnished his office with all the drugs that would probably be needed . . . In his practice he gave these as prepared by the authorities, yet in very small, the smallest apparently allowable quantities" (see Autobiography, p. 31). Jarvis's interest in psychiatry was carried on in relative isolation, notwithstanding some correspondence with men like Thomas Story Kirkbride who were not hygienic propagandists or noisy self-promoting phrenology scholars. Some of Starobinski's remarks (on body perception and concern with physical shape as the last refuge against technology) are not out of place in this period of American history when immigrants from different cultures were forced to re-identify themselves.43 The various proposed cultural 42 Caldwell, Autobiography, op. cit., note 2 above, p. 46. 43 Jean Starobinski, A history ofmedicine, New York, Hawthorn Books, 1964; idem, L 'oeil vivant. Essai, 2 vols, Paris, Gallimard, 1961; idem, Les mots sous les mots. Les anagrammes de Ferdinand de Saussure, Paris, Gallimard, 1971; idem, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. La transparence et lobstacle, Paris, Plon, 1958. xxxii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction models, soap and "hygienic" concerns included, were not explicitly xenophobic, but in practice they often became so. The objective of a society of healthy, clean and educated individuals was a profoundly democratic one. But if soap was cheap, education was less so, and indeed could often be very expensive. Therefore, self-education was often the only option open to those struggling against the prejudices of established Americans who were unwilling to accept all that the industrial revolution, if unplanned, signified: poor immigrants, crime, drunkenness, urban slums, and the Irish, the Irish, the Irish ... This conflict partly explains why many doctors who in the first half of the nineteenth century were more or less directly affected by the climate of European positivism or evolutionism were so interested in research into the morphology of either the human or the social body; and why they were so fascinated by objects which could be dissected, catalogued and classified, and finally managed and directed, with the help of that analytical tool, supposedly oriented to the amelioration of life, social statistics, especially those vital statistics where every disease appears as "zymotic" (William Farr). In the disputes between schools, disagreement over the normative model often simply signified dissent about the uses to which the norm was put. But since the experience of being faced with the negation of the norm, the abnormal or the event which contradicted the norm, became, during the course of the century, more and more disturbing, not a few doctors chose to act as social reformers and in part succeeded. Ironically, this success was accompanied by a parallel clinical failure. Even in the case of non-contagious, and hence curable, alcoholism, the cure very often consisted in the prescription of laudanum, with the result that those leaving the hostels would not only return to alcohol but also become drug-addicted. Ironically too, the bacteriology and microbiology revolution came at the end of the century from the laboratories of people like Louis Pasteur (1822-1895) and Robert Koch (1843-1910), rather than from medical and social statistics. However, it was undoubtedly the extent and number of the cholera outbreaks of 1826, 1832-34, 1848, 1853, and 1866, measured more precisely thanks to statistics, and the quasi-normality of tuberculosis, which shook Edward Jarvis's faith in medical practice and in pharmacological treatment, and led him towards social statistics and psychiatric research. With the exception of the important innovation of ether used as an anaesthetic (first used at Boston General Hospital on 16th October 1845 by John Collins Warren, assisted by his son, John Collins), this was a period of relatively few clinical innovations, but one in which statisticians and social reformers flourished. If we look a little deeper-and autobiographies and diaries are very useful here-we can measure this rather effective form of compensation used by a medical profession which was experiencing a crisis of identity. The same was true of William Farr, who was not tempted by psychiatry; and it would still be true later for Cesare Lombroso (1835-1909), who initiated an ideology which subsequently followed various tortuous paths on both continents. Whether they admitted it or not, they were aware of the crisis in medicine, and felt that, if it was to become a science, it would have to be a social science. Perhaps this "measurement of uncertainty"44 which spread rapidly through both continents by the calculus of liberalism, 44 Stephen M. Stigler, The history of statistics: the measurement of uncertainty before 1900, Cambridge, Mass., Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1986. xxxiii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction was the last refuge in the flight from scientific and clinical failure: the "zymotic" interpretation that William Farr gave to Filippo Pacini's researches is a significant example. The idea of pathogenic bacteria or pathogenic action of bacteria was Filippo Pacini's discovery. He had been working on microscopical research since 1833; he sought more and more precise instruments, and in the end, with the help of his friend Amico, constructed a microscope himself (now in the Florence Museum of Sciences). In 1854 he discovered, described, and drew "vibrio cholera". In spite of the fact that he was an anatomist who taught Comparative Anatomy at the Institute of Human Anatomy at Pisa, Italy, he was convinced of the importance of the biological sciences and that they ought to have an important place in the curriculum of medical studies. This was a very innovative view which earned him violent hostility. The discovery was outside all the established parameters of thought and practice, and was ignored.45 Perhaps it was due to the controversial and sometimes perverse character of these kinds of issues that medicine in general stagnated to the point where it was not able to renew its identity for fear of losing its previous one. The failure of medicine also brought with it a great loss of human life. The advocates of statistics, who were the only people to measure the dire consequences of the ineffectiveness of medicine, had a role, although a less important one than they imagined, in developing models of social control, ways of organizing public and private institutions, public assistance and preventive medicine, and of verifying how well these functioned. They did this with admirable civil and political commitment, often in the face of opposition. Nevertheless, if the achievements of medical statisticians are compared to those of their contemporaries which were too innovatory to be recognized, they do not seem very important. Progress did not come via statistics, but from a science which the reformers were not familiar with and did not understand. But statistics created the possibility of an acceptable critique of society and its dogmas, laying bare geographical and distributional patterns, and it also opened up paths of social reform and encouraged the setting-up of institutions like the institutes of social hygiene, which were supposed to investigate, analyse and experiment with new areas of reality. Involvement in philanthropy seems to have been more common in the United States than in Europe. Perhaps this greater social commitment on the part of American physicians compared with their European contemporaries is related to the status of the 45 The only scientific recognition which Pacini received was in an area quite different from that of cholera, the discovery of the neural ganglia. Their existence was confirmed experimentally in 1844 by A. Koelliker, who called them "Pacini's corpuscles". This fame was later disputed, when in 1862 the Viennese anatomist Carl Langer claimed that Abraham Vater had discovered them previously, since he had written about corpuscles in 1741. Twenty years or so later, it was Koch's turn to have the priority of his discovery contested. On Filippo Pacini see Aurelio Bianchi, Relazione e catalogo dei manoscritti di Filippo Pacini esistenti nella R. Biblioteca nazionale centrale di Firenze, Rome, 1889. Cf. F. Pacini, Osservazioni microscopiche e deduzioni patologiche sul colera asiatico, Florence, 1854; idem, Sulle cause specifiche del colera asiatico [... .1 Florence, 1865; idem, Della parte estravascolare della circolazione del sangue scoperta, Florence, 1875; see Dictionary of Scientific Biography, 16 vols, ed. C. Coulston Gillispie, New York, Scribner's, 1970-1980, vol. 10, p. 266-68. See also L. Castaldi, 'Filippo Pacini nel quarantesimo anniversario della sua morte', Rivista di Storia delle Scienze Mediche e Naturali, 1923, 14: 182-212; A. Koelliker, Ueber die Pacinischen Korpenchen des Menschen und der Sdugethiere, Zurich, 1844. Cf. WIHM, 3 autograph letters of Filippo Pacini to Giovanni Battista Pieri, 1847-1855, 5 pp. in 4. Cf. obituary, Lancet, 1883, ii:128. xxxiv https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction medical profession in America, which was not a particularly privileged one. As previous research has noted, and as the Autobiography and other writings of Edward Jarvis confirm, being a doctor in America gave no guarantee of financial success,46 and it was certainly a less prestigious position than in Europe. It was much easier to rise up socially in business, banking, commerce, etc. in America than it was in the Old World, and the social value of the educated or cultured man was less. The social origin of doctors, on the other hand, was not very different. William Farr did not come from a cultural elite any more than Edward Jarvis did; the same was true of John Snow (1813-1858), the man who discovered that water was the medium of contagion in the spread of cholera. More important figures, such as Claude Bernard (1813-1878), Pasteur and Koch, members of the new generation of doctors who followed on from Flaubert' s pathetic doctor Bovary (1857), were also men of the middling bourgeoisie. However, it would be an over-simplification to explain the difference between the medical class in America and Europe and their varying levels of involvement in social and political reform in terms of social status. In his chapter on Jacksonian Democracy and medical pluralism J. H. Cassedy has caught some of the components of this complex generation which had to live in difficult times and had at its disposal only antiquated forms of treatment, the inadequacy of which was obvious to at least the best doctors. The medical counterculture bought together many who were privately or publicly dissatisfied with the conventional medicine of the day. It included physicians frustrated by the crudeness and ineffectiveness of regular therapies, along with a variety of individuals whose passion for abolition, Sunday Schools, penal reform, or some other social goal somehow spilled over into medical reform. It included many who, having been swept up by the ideal of educating the democracy, found that improving the people's knowledge of hygiene was as essential as other kinds of instruction. It incorporated some who were being influenced in one way or another by revolutionary concepts in health care, as well as in politics, economics, and social ideas from abroad. A number of the members of the counterculture were middle- or upper-class intellectuals who were swayed by the Romantic outlook which gave the individual as much responsibility for his own health as for his spiritual and intellectual destiny. A much larger proportion was composed of humbler folks-antimonopoly democrats, antirent agrarians, and others who resented accumulations of wealth, privilege, or authority . .. The medical and social worlds of the Jacksonian common man were as far removed as could be from those of the foreign- educated clinicians. For those who were illiterate, ignorant, or gullible, neither science nor statistics meant very much. For those accustomed to follow old wives' tales and folk remedies, the extensive formal medical progress of the Enlightenment might as well not have happened.47 The attack on homeopathic medicine, "Huzza for the Regular Doctors, Calomel and the Lancet", was part of this moment of crisis of identity in the medical profession and its search for social, if not scientific, usefulness. A lack of confidence affected both the practice of medicine in everyday life and the institution, inside which there were a few, though only a few, who attempted a critical analysis of interpretative paradigms and 46 p. Starr, The social transformation ofAmerican medicine. The rise ofa sovereign profession and the making of a vast industry, New York, Basic Books, 1982. 4 Cassedy, op. cit., note 41 above, pp. 92-3. xxxv https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction dogmas. These were not secondary figures, but men like Edwin Chadwick (1800-1890), twelve years younger than Thomas Southwood Smith (1788-1861) and, like him, a Benthamite, who expressed doubts and unease which were even more radical than those felt by Jacob Bigelow (1786-1879), of whom Edward Jarvis was a pupil. As Margaret Pelling observes in her work on Victorian medicine, Edwin Chadwick's attitude to the profession was ultimately impersonal. It was formed at a time when he was benefiting from close contact with the physicians Neil Arnott, James Kay-Shuttleworth, and Southwood Smith, and was based on the entirely justifiable conclusion that the methods, contents and style of evaluation of English medical education were inadequate, unsystematic, antiquated, and corrupt, and compared unfavourably with those of France, even in cases, such as clinical teaching, where the English supposed themselves to be most advantaged. "It followed, as a corollary, that eminence within the profession was regularly determined not by merit, but by influence and privilege ... Even his dismissal of medical therapeutics was characteristic of the context of the 1820s and 1830s."48 Other doctors such as William Lawrence and Thomas Wakley took up more or less similar positions, and their influence was felt during the period when Jarvis was studying and beginning his career. The concern of a clinician of the stature ofJacob Bigelow, whose scepticism about pharmacology was far from unscientific,49 should also be seen in this context. Bigelow's theory of self-limited disease has recently been reevaluated giving him an importance well beyond that of a critic of Benjamin Rush's "heroic therapy", the only contribution he has usually been seen as having made. "The idea that most diseases were self-limiting whether treated or not," was first formulated by "Bigelow in 1825 and even then tended to be forgotten, and recovery from illness attributed to psychological factors as often as to many remedies now proved useless."50 In the decades of the 1850s and 60s which followed this medical impasse, an important series of events occurred which had economic (the depression of 1837-1842), and psychological implications. For, like other American cities, Boston felt threatened by the arrival of masses of unvaccinated Irish fleeing from the Great Famine of 1845-47, and of other European immigrants who, it was believed, had a high chance of becoming drunkards, joining the mass of unvaccinated blacks, and coca-chewing Indians who also provided a good market for the poison of alcohol. For the following thirty years, the medical establishment remained paralyzed in a virtual incapacity to control the situation.5' Also the germ theory which emerged out of the cholera fungus controversy of 1849 in Britain had its parallel the other side of the Atlantic with John Kearsley Mitchell (1793-1858), father of the future neurologist S..Weir Mitchell (1829-1914), in the form of his On the cryptogamous origin ofmalarious and epidemicfevers which appeared in 1849. This work brought to America the discussion surrounding John Snow and his theory of "contaminated waters" which opposed the belief that air was the infecting agent, held by 48 M. Pelling, Cholera, fever and English medicine, 1825-1865, Oxford University Press, 1978, pp. 12-14. 49 Jacob Bigelow, 'On self-limited diseases', Medical Communications ofthe Massachusetts Medical Society, 1830-1836, pp. 319-46. s 50 E. M. Thornton, Hypnotism, hysteria, and epilepsy: an historical synthesis, London, Heinemann Medical, 1976, p. 182. 51 On immigration in Boston, S. Thernstrom, The other Bostonians: poverty and progress in the American metropolis, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1973; Oscar Handlin, Boston's immigrants, 1790-1880, New York, Atheneum, 1969. xxxvi https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction William Farr among others. The cholera epidemic of 1854, of course, confirmed the geographical pattern of polluted pumps. But even after this, and after he had got to know John Snow, Farr continued to believe that air (in this case "affected by the altitude") was the agent, not the water.52 He continued to argue the question with Florence Nightingale and Edwin Chadwick until about 1866 when the next great cholera crisis in London converted him to the germ theory.53 These debates would certainly have been familiar to Edward Jarvis, even through his writings do not refer to them. The part of Farr's work which interested him was that which had interested Lemuel Shattuck (1793-1859): nosology, which had already been imported to the United States by the pupils of Pierre Charles Alexandre Louis (1787-1872). Certainly this type of statistic was a important innovation, and a major way of checking clinical practice, in the sense that it measured the success rate and could show how much this was affected by medical intervention by comparing statistics of disease with statistics on medical institutions. A generation of American doctors was influenced by this model of diagnostics. William Wood Gerhard (1809-1872) of Philadelphia was one of the first to introduce it to America, ensuring that "medical observers who in an earlier generation would have turned to the authority of a Hoffman, Cullen, Rush or Broussais now looked for authority in assembled collections of data".54 Their number included names like Francis Peyre Porcher (1825-1895) and Edwin Samuel Gaillard (1827-1885) in Charleston, doctors of the "deep South" like John Y. Bassett and Josiah Clark Nott (1804-1873); Gasper Wistar Pennock (1761-1818), Alfred Stille (1813-1900) in Philadelphia; Alonzo Clark and Valentine Mott (1785-1865) in New York; and in Boston, Henry Ingersoll Bowditch, James Jackson Jr. (1811-1895), Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) and George Cheyne Shattuck (1813-1893).5 The medical statistics of the British school had the biggest influence on physicians like Edward Jarvis and the "Jacksonians" inspired by the English Public Health Act of 1848, which had been enacted partially in response to Edwin Chadwick's Report on the sanitary condition of the labouring population of Great Britain (1842), and to the efforts of the Benthamite physicians who worked with him, like Southwood Smith, Neil Arnott, J. Kay-Shuttleworth and (indirectly) John Snow, and later John Simon, the figures with whom William Farr identified.56 Edward Jarvis imbibed this tradition through the influence of Lemuel Shattuck and his well-known work of 1841 which demonstrated the worsening of health conditions in Boston.57 52 Pelling, op. cit., note 48 above, p. 189. 53 Ibid., p. 215. On William Farr see John M. Eyler, Victorian social medicine: the ideas and methods ofWilliam Farr, Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1979. 54 Cassedy, op. cit., note 41 above, p. 65. s Ibid., p. 61. See also, Whitfield J. Bell, Jr, The College ofPhysicians ofPhiladelphia: a bicentennial history, Canton, Mass., Science History Publications, 1987. 56 G. Melvin Howe, Man, environment, and disease in Britain, New York, Barnes and Noble Books, 1972, p. 184; S. E. Finer, The life and times of Sir Edwin Chadwick, London, Methuen, 1952; R. A. Lewis, Edwin Chadwick and the public health movement, 1832-1854, London, and New York, Longmans, Green, 1952. See an environmental analysis and bibliography by Anne Hardy, Gerry Keams, and Martin Daunton, in Living and Dying in London, eds W. F. Bynum and Roy Porter, Medical History, Supplement No. 11, London, WIHM, 1991; and Christopher Hamlin, A science of impurity: water analysis in nineteenth-century Britain, Bristol, Adam Hilger, 1990. 51 Cassedy, op. cit., note 41 above, p. 197. xxxvii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction In spite of the significant influence which doctors committed to social reform had in America, the lively debates and polemics imported from Europe often had no effect, or only very late, on the strictly medical and scientific understanding of problems: for example, the chemical discoveries of Justus von Liebig (1803-1873), who in France had been a pupil of Louis Joseph Gay Lussac (1778-1850), were accepted by William Farr only with many reservations as "useful hypotheses". He remained undecided as to how significant they were, and was in any case too absorbed in the attempt to construct categories of "zymotic diseases" to realize the importance of the concept of "contagious molecular action", or that of "actions called catalytic" introduced by Justus von Liebig and later developed by Jacob Berzelius (1779-1848).58 The most striking paradox of the codified medical norms and of mental and cultural resistance was the case, already referred to, of Filippo Pacini. In 1854 his theories, describing and sketching what was to be the cholera "vibrio" rediscovered by Koch in 1884, were considered abnormal. William Farr refers to Pacini as an adaptor of his zymotic theory, as though his work verified it. The more heart-rending side of the affair can be found among Pacini's unpublished papers held in the Biblioteca Nazionale in Florence. Pacini translated the whole of Farr's article, made notes in the margins, and added a bitter dedication indicating that he realised he was being completely misunderstood. Pacini's two handwritten and glossed manuscripts are entitled Mathematical theory ofAsiatic cholera as expounded by Dr. William Farr in the Report on the cholera epidemic of 1866 in England, and are conserved at the Florence National Library, Carte Pacini, vol. 17, IX, fasc. 1 (6 folios), fasc. II (23 folios). The name of Pacini only began to be heard when recognition was being given to Koch's discovery, and doubt was cast on whether he was the first. The norm takes its revenge on that which is no longer abnormal, but merely different, and the parameters of the dominant schools ensured that "nineteenth-century bacteriology is seen as a deviation from the norm of substituting physico-chemical for special biological explanations".59 It is my contention that Edward Jarvis felt, or intuited, the medical gap and that this is the reason he turned to statistics as a tool of social criticism (where axiology was itself not a single concept, or a "zymotic" dominant preoccupation), and to psychiatry as a clinical instrument. In the first field, he followed the logic of a liberalism rooted in English Utilitarianism. His best work here is that which Gerald N. Grob has recognized as such in his publication of an updated edition of Jarvis's 1855 statistical survey Report on insanity and idiocy in Massachusetts, by the Commission on Lunacy. In the second field, on the other hand, there are many elements whose importance historians have overlooked because they are difficult to investigate, being part of his practical activity as a therapist, which Jarvis describes still less than his clinical research, in which he had ceased to believe: "He, Dr. Jarvis, thought we were doing no better than 58 Pelling, op. cit., note 48 above, pp. 120-1. 59 Also Pasteur's "claim that disease in an animal or plant was caused by another independent species, by means unknown, was contrary not only to the established trend of chemical explanation, but also to mainstream germ theory.... If the bacteriological discoveries of the 1870s and 1880s are to be regarded as 'scientific', then the complex biochemical and physiological explanations of disease characteristic of earlier decades can hardly be less so." Cf. Pelling, op. cit., note 48 above, pp. 1, 304. xxxviii https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core Introduction the fathers", he wrote, "and he feared this dullness would only follow their course in new and useless invention".60 However, the model of psychological therapy employing decentralized "guest- institutions" organized into family-group environments, which Jarvis adopted, was based on sound intuition, which he certainly did not take from the "moral therapy" tradition. Thomas Story Kirkbride was able to devote his whole life to creating new institutional models for a better understanding of what is different in those who do not conform to the norm. In contrast, Edward Jarvis, notwithstanding the success he had in his battle for a system of public health welfare, worked in relative isolation. He was hindered by too many problems, and in the prime of his life he was greatly held back in his career. In the end, when he finally established himself in a steady position at Dorchester, he had to do so at the cost of losing twenty years of strictly clinical experience, and of having to resort to private practice which was profitable precisely because it was private. As a final irony, the superintendency of the new hospital, which had been founded due to his strenuous efforts, was assigned to another man who, I believe, had the support of the Freemasons' Lodge which presided over the inauguration. Being cut off from hospital clinical practice was one of the causes of Jarvis's spiritual troubles. The other was the structure of a culture which gave him the support he greatly needed but also a system of established norms which were of much less support to him. Over a hundred years later Jarvis's witness remains interesting for the same reasons for which he experienced it and struggled against its restrictions, which were erected by many "false prophets"61 to cultural big-wigs of the times in which the Edward Jarvises had to live. 60 CFPL, 'Tradition and reminiscences of Concord, Massachusetts'. 61 Alexander Kohn, False prophets: fraud, error and misdemeanour in science and medicine, New York, Basil Blackwell, 1986. xxxix https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 00:59:19, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300071209 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_zzztuwni7rcfjk6sxp5ikfzsny	----	assistant_327490592_1932151770_0.pdf 47 Kelley, Wyn (2014), “Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood”, Lectora, 20: 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 Recepció: 1 de juny de 2014 - Acceptació: 15 de juliol de 2014 MELVILLE’S CARNIVAL NEIGHBORHOOD WYN KELLEY Massachusetts Institute of Technology Treatments of the relationship between Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville have tended to focus on it as a failed friendship or aborted romance —as inspiring in Melville hopes and longings that Hawthorne could never fulfill. Viewed as a relationship between neighbors, not only friends or lovers, and seen through the prism of unconsidered works like Melville’s Israel Potter (1854-5, 1855) and “The Encantadas” (1854, 1856), the connection might look slightly different. For as neighbors Hawthorne and Melville may have found opportunities for greater freedom, fluidity, and festivity than friendship or love could always offer. Taking place in the carnival neighborhood of their redoubtable friend, Sarah Huyler Morewood, Hawthorne’s and Melville’s relationship may have explored some of her subversive energies as well. KEY WORDS: Herman Melville, Nathaniel Hawthorne, male friendship, carnival, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mikhail Bakhtin, Sarah Morewood, Israel Potter, “The Encantadas”. La vecindad carnavalera de Melville Los estudios sobre la relación entre Nathaniel Hawthorne y Herman Melville han tendido a analizarla como una amistad fallida o como un romance abortado que quizás generó en Melville esperanzas y deseos que Hawthorne simplemente no podía satisfacer. Pero si la entendemos como una relación entre vecinos —y no solo entre amigos o amantes—, y la observamos a través de algunas de las obras menos estudiadas de Melville tales como Israel Potter (1854-5, 1855) y “Las Encantadas” (1854, 1856), la conexión entre ambos desvela nuevos matices. Pues como vecinos, Hawthorne y Melville pueden haber gozado de oportunidades para una mayor libertad, una mayor fluidez y un espíritu más festivo que la proporcionada por la amistad o el amor. Al desarrollarse en el marco del ambiente carnavalesco potenciado por la vecina y amiga común, la formidable Sarah Huyler Morewood, la relación entre Hawthorne y Melville puede haberse impregnado de algunas de las energías subversivas generadas por esta mujer. PALABRAS CLAVE: Herman Melville, Nathaniel Hawthorne, amistad entre hombres, carnaval, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mikhail Bajtín, Sarah Morewood, Israel Potter, “Las Encantadas”. When the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning —HERMAN MELVILLE, November 1851 From 1850 to 1863, Herman Melville (1819-91) lived in the Berkshires at his farm Arrowhead, but for many readers the most significant part of that time Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 48 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 coincided with the presence of his famous neighbor, Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-64), who dwelt nearby from May 1850 to November 1851. Viewing Melville’s relationship with Hawthorne in terms of the novels both authors wrote during the peak of their association —Hawthorne’s The House of the Seven Gables (1851), Melville’s Moby-Dick (1851) and Pierre (1852), and Hawthorne’s The Blithedale Romance (1852)— yields a rich harvest of convergences and possible influences. The so-called “Agatha” correspondence, a brief attempt to work together on a story in 1852, has received significant attention. Later works like Hawthorne’s The Marble Faun (1860) and Melville’s Clarel (1876) seem to look back at the relationship retrospectively, and no biographer neglects the authors’ final meeting on the sand dunes in Liverpool in 1856 or the possibility that Melville’s poem “Monody” expresses grief over the loss of Hawthorne, perhaps at his death in 1864. There is little doubt about the immensely creative and likewise troubled resonances of their ambiguous connection. But because of the one-sided nature of their correspondence —i.e. the fact that only Melville’s letters survive— and because of the passion of Melville’s writing in those letters, many readers and biographers have adopted a view of Melville as ardently pursuing the more shy and withdrawn Hawthorne. Treatments of the relationship, then, have tended to focus on it as a failed friendship or aborted romance —as inspiring in Melville hopes and longings that Hawthorne could never fulfill.1 Viewed as a relationship between neighbors, not only friends or lovers, and seen through the prism of unconsidered works like Melville’s Israel Potter (1854-5, 1855) and “The Encantadas”(1854, 1856), the connection might look slightly different. For, as neighbors, Hawthorne and Melville may have found opportunities for greater freedom, fluidity, and festivity than friendship or love could always offer. Taking place in the carnival neighborhood of their redoubtable friend, Sarah Huyler Morewood, Hawthorne’s and Melville’s relationship may have explored some of her subversive energies as well. Neighbors are not by definition friends: a neighbor is a “boor” (or countryman) who is “nigh,” or close (Oxford English Dictionary). Yet neighbors embody certain vital traits, even identities that may make them as valuable as friends. For Melville and Hawthorne inventing American authorship during the Young America literary movement, the neighborhood of writers had political as well as cultural meaning. 2 To be an American, Thomas Paine argues in Common Sense (1776), is to learn how to be a neighbor. In England, where everyone shares 1 On the Melville-Hawthorne relationship, see Argersinger and Person (2008); for biography see Delbanco (2005); Miller (1976); Mellow (1980); Mueller (1996); Parker (1996, 2002); Robertson-Lorant (1996); Wineapple (2001); on Clarel and the Melville-Hawthorne relationship, see Bezanson (1991); on the “Agatha” correspondence as collaboration, see Kelley (2008); and on Melville’s “Monody” see Hayford (1990). 2 For a superb reading of the political nuances of the Hawthorne-Melville relationship, see Castiglia (2008). Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 49 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 a common nationality, Englishness implies a given neighborliness. People who are neighbors at home only become English when they meet elsewhere: A man born in any town in England divided into parishes, will naturally associate most with his fellow parishioners (because their interests in many cases will be common) and distinguish him by the name of neighbour; […] but if in their foreign excursions they should associate in France, or any other part of Europe, their local remembrance would be enlarged into that of Englishmen. (Paine, 2004: 64) Americans, says Paine, coming from all corners of the globe, have to remind themselves that they are neighbors and not members of different nations. The first task of Americans is therefore, instead of gazing at each other with suspicious or doubtful curiosity, let each of us hold out to his neighbor the hearty hand of friendship, and unite in drawing a line, which, like an act of oblivion, shall bury in forgetfulness every former dissension. Let the names of Whig and Tory be extinct; and let none other be heard among us, than those of a good citizen, an open and resolute friend, and a virtuous supporter of the RIGHTS of MANKIND, and of the FREE AND INDEPENDANT STATES OF AMERICA. (Paine, 2004: 93) For Paine, being a neighbor removes partisan divisions, obliterates crippling national identities, and creates a flexible form of voluntary association. American neighbors support the rights of man and the safety of the American states. When Melville describes the author Nathaniel Hawthorne as “only six miles off, and not three thousand miles away, in England, say” (Melville, 1993: 185) he captures something of Paine’s sense that American neighborliness makes Americans exceptional. If in the nineteenth century the new American nation was creating itself out of a shared American literature, as Benedict Anderson suggests, inventing imagined identities and kinships, it carried in its genes the still-recent experience of fashioning a new kind of neighborhood, one founded not on tradition but on a deliberate acceptance of former aliens, even enemies, and containing its differences through novel, flexible strategies of self-definition (Anderson, 2006: 77). It is useful to return to this revolutionary view of neighborhood in relation to nineteenth-century Romantic and Transcendentalist definitions of friendship, which typically see neighborhood as the dull alternative to friendship. For Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay “Friendship” (1841), neighborliness implies not revolutionary acts of association but rather the dutiful, civic-minded opposite of true and tender friendship. Speaking of friendship as a “covenant,” Emerson claims that it transcends the common intercourse of neighbors: “I can get Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 50 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 politics, and chat, and neighbourly conveniences from cheaper companions” (Emerson, 1979: 123). The neighbor in Emerson’s Essays, Thoreau’s Walden, or Hawthorne’s stories tends to be the honest farmer, uncomprehending bystander, or common villager who would never aspire to the “delicious torment” (Emerson, 1979: 117) that Emerson finds in friendship. When friendship is defined as “jets of affection which make a young world for me again” (Emerson, 1979: 114), what is left for neighborliness but the forms of social convention? Visits, meals, conversation —these would seem to be the fruits of neighborhood, especially in Boston, Concord, or Lenox, Massachusetts in the mid-nineteenth century. Even Emerson does not entirely agree with this view. In his essay he insists that friendship must “have feet, as well as eyes and eloquence”, that friends must perform the offices of neighbors too: “I wish it [friendship] to be a little of a citizen, before it is quite a cherub” (Emerson, 1979: 120-21). Emerson warns against too hastily judging the civic functions of neighborliness as merely prudent and materialistic: We chide the citizen because he makes love a commodity. It [citizenry] is an exchange of gifts, of useful loans; it is good neighborhood; it watches with the sick; it holds the pall at the funeral; and quite loses sight of the delicacies and nobility of the relation. But though we cannot find the god under this disguise of a sutler, yet, on the other hand, we cannot forgive the poet if he spins his thread too fine, and does not substantiate his romance by the municipal virtues of justice, punctuality, fidelity, and pity. I hate the prostitution of the name of friendship to signify modish and worldly alliances. […] It is fit for serene days, and graceful gifts, and country rambles, but also for rough roads and hard fare, shipwreck, poverty, and persecution. (Emerson, 1979: 121) For Emerson, neighborly kindness strengthens and sinews friendship that might otherwise become “too fine” for the “rough roads” of ordinary life. Friendship must include “municipal virtues” in its poetry. From this somewhat grudging description of the benefits of neighborliness —hardly the Christian admonition to love one’s neighbor, hardly a ringing endorsement of the ordinary citizen lacking “the god” of friendship— Emerson nevertheless offers a way to view Melville and Hawthorne as valuable neighbors, not simply friends. The catalyst for this reading and for the kind of neighborhood Melville found when he visited Lenox in the summer of 1850 was Sarah Huyler Morewood. Almost singlehandedly, she created a form of neighborhood that enabled not simply rides and excursions, sickbed visits and parlor confidences, municipal virtues and proprietary alliances, but also a potentially subversive vision of social communion that might create the grounds for revolutionary forms of relationship. Often considered more as a Melville satellite than a leader Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 51 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 of their small circle, Sarah Morewood may well have provided a foundation for the extraordinary intimacies —letters, confidences, visits, and insights— that Melville and Hawthorne exchanged in her neighborhood. Sarah Morewood made things happen in Melville’s vicinity. From the first when they met as boarders in the Melvill family homestead, later to become the home (christened Broadhall) of Sarah and John Rowland Morewood, she seems to have had a fateful influence on events. On August 3, 1850, she entertained Melville’s New York friends, Evert Duyckinck and Cornelius Mathews, as well as Melville and his family by sweeping them off for a fishing party at Pontusac Lake. The day that Hawthorne and Melville first met, August 5, 1850, was one of few such outings that Sarah Morewood did not attend. It began with a climb up Monument Mountain in the company of Oliver Wendell Holmes, Evert Duyckinck, James Fields, and Cornelius Mathews, then moved to a long, boisterous lunch at the home of David Dudley Field, culminated in a visit to the Icy Glen, and ended with tea at novelist Catharine Maria Sedgwick’s house, a day of near-constant revelry. On August 7, Mrs. Morewood drove her family to the Shaker barn in Lebanon, where Melville’s family joined them (Parker, 1996: 742- 750). She then threw a masquerade ball on August 9, which Melville attended dressed as a Turk; Sarah Morewood disguised herself as Aunt Tabitha, the proper elderly dame in Oliver Wendell Holmes’s satiric poem (Parker, 1996: 761-762). The next day “that Princess of Pic Nic, Fairy Belt,” as Cornelius Mathews called her (qtd. in Parker, 1996: 763) organized a ride to Gulf Road for her family, the Melvilles, and their visitors. She then arranged for the party to visit the Shakers’ Sunday services the next day (Parker, 1996: 765). Against this backdrop of ceaseless festivity, Melville and Hawthorne met and conversed, Melville wrote his extraordinary review-essay “Hawthorne and His Mosses”, the two authors’ families exchanged visits, and eventually both men wrote some of their most famous and enduring works. It would be too much to say that Sarah Morewood created the conditions for this creative ferment, but her influence on the neighborhood was palpable. An undated letter says simply that “Mr. H. Melville and friends accept, with the most boisterous pleasure Mrs: Morewood’s invitation for to night” (Melville, 1993: 537). In an 1853 letter Melville teasingly refers to her as “My Lady Countess”, “your Ladyship”, “Dear Lady of Southmount”, and himself as “Knight of the Hill”, (Melville, 1993: 253- 255) in token of her peerless skills as hostess. It seems that for Sarah Morewood, festivity was a “boisterous” and unrestrained expression of neighborly feeling. Sarah Morewood, then, kept her neighbors entertained. But more importantly, she defied convention and embodied a carnivalesque spirit of pleasure and hospitality. In the summer of 1851, she outdid her previous efforts by re-enacting the historic climb of the year before. After several days of rides, parties, and excursions, Mrs. Morewood assembled her family and miscellaneous guests, the Melvilles, and the Duyckinck brothers for a caravan to Saddleback Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 52 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 Mountain and Williamstown. Hawthorne did not attend, having presumably exhausted his sociability in a visit to the Shakers a few days before, but the adventure took the others up the mountain, where they feasted, lit bonfires, and stayed up late, wrapped in buffalo robes and talking (Parker, 1996: 860-861). Unlike the Monument Mountain climb of 1850, the excursion mingled the sexes in what might seem compromising ways, and Sarah Morewood’s reputation has suffered since.3 But for Melville, who participated actively in these events, Morewood’s unconventional behavior must have seemed a refreshing instance of what Bakhtin has described as carnival license: During carnival time life is subject only to its laws, that is, the laws of its own freedom. It has a universal spirit; it is a special condition of the entire world, of the world’s revival and renewal, in which all take part […] [T]hey [clowns and fools] represented a certain form of life, which was real and ideal at the same time. They stood at the borderline between life and art, in a peculiar mid-zone, as it were […]. It is a festive life. (Bakhtin, 1968: 7-8) Sarah Morewood, indulging in badinage all night with men besides her husband, reveling in masquerades and feasts, held undoubted sway over her merry band; and Herman Melville joined in with “boisterous pleasure” (Melville, 1993: 537). I would submit that Sarah Morewood got away with this behavior, firstly because she was a pious woman who never openly violated propriety,4 and secondly because she was being neighborly in a way that suited Berkshires residents —many of them new arrivals from New York, settled transiently in the region, and devoted to art and amusement, like the painters Melville describes in his story “The Piazza”. Morewood’s style was spontaneous, aggressive, inclusive, and unstoppable. She startled the Duyckinck brothers, but to Melville she was “the ever-excellent and beautiful Lady of Paradise” and “Lady of All Delight” (Melville, 1993: 297). Most intriguingly, one can see elements of Sarah Morewood’s bold style in the way Melville addresses Hawthorne in their correspondence. From the first, Melville seems to have balanced the awe he felt in the presence of Nathaniel 3 See Duberstein (1998) for a novel speculating on the possibility that Melville and Sarah Morewood were lovers. In Melville Biography, Hershel Parker records an exchange between himself and Donald Yannella, who argued for Morewood’s salacious interest in President Tyler’s brother-in-law; Hershel Parker details Morewood’s pursuit of George Duyckinck. See Parker, 2012: 216. 4 In a letter to Herman’s sister Augusta (no date), Sarah Morewood speaks passionately and at length about her views of the Trinity. The letter is in the Gansevoort-Lansing Collection at the New York Public Library. Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 53 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 Hawthorne with a certain brusqueness and insouciance of manner. In a January 1851 letter, Melville tells Hawthorne he is “not to be charmed out of my promised pleasure” by Sophia Hawthorne’s excuses on her husband’s behalf: “the visit (in all its original integrity) must be made”. He promises abundant food and drink and also a cessation of all social rules: “You wont be much bored with punctilios. You may do what you please—say or say not what you please. And if you feel any inclination for that sort of thing—you may spend the period of your visit in bed, if you like—every hour of your visit”. Melville occasionally expresses himself to other correspondents —Duyckinck, his family— in fairly brash terms, but he seldom invites them to spend all day in bed, nor does he permit himself sentences like these: “Come—no nonsense. If you dont—I will send Constables after you” (Melville, 1993: 176). In his June 1851 letter, he claims “I mean to continue visiting you until you tell me that my visits are both supererogatory and superfluous. With no son of man [especially Hawthorne, it would seem] do I stand upon any etiquette or ceremony” (Melville, 1993: 190). In July, much in the way Sarah Morewood might have charged forward with plans for an outing, he proposes that “you and I—must hit upon some little bit of vagabondism, before Autumn comes” (Melville, 1993: 199). And in the November 1851 letter when he responds to Hawthorne’s “exultation-breeding letter” praising Moby-Dick (Melville, 1993: 212), he stoutly declares, “I can’t stop yet” before going on to describe writing “a thousand—a million—billion thoughts, all under the form of a letter to you”, then just as boldly concluding, “I sha’nt always answer your letters, and you may do just as you please” (Melville, 1993: 214). Perhaps these peremptory statements and others like them speak to a friendship that approaches the ideal of intimacy Emerson describes in his essay. When placed in the context of Melville’s frank and unrestrained language elsewhere in the Melville-Hawthorne correspondence, they do not seem inconsistent with expressions that many readers have seen as romantic, erotic, and deeply felt: “Whence came you, Hawthorne? By what right do you drink from my flagon of life? And when I put it to my lips—lo, they are yours and not mine” (Melville, 1993: 212). My point is not that Melville and Hawthorne did not feel desires commensurate with Melville’s lyrical and erotic diction. But for Melville and Hawthorne as neighbors —people who could drop by unexpectedly, rustle up spontaneous meals of cold chicken, ask each other favors, as when Hawthorne requested that Melville buy shoes in Pittsfield for his son Julian— their proximity indeed put “feet as well as eyes and eloquence” into their relationship. Indeed, such neighborliness may have done much to overcome the great social gulfs between two rather awkward men. Sophia Hawthorne captured her husband’s famous reticence and Melville’s somewhat clumsy social skills in a May 1851 letter to her sister: “Nothing pleases me better than to sit & hear this growing man dash his tumultuous waves of thought up against Mr Hawthorne’s great, genial, comprehending silences” (qtd. in Melville, 1993: 184). Given the differences of age and experience between them, it is hard to imagine how Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 54 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 Hawthorne and Melville might have gotten on as well as they did if they had not been neighbors. We will never fully know, of course. But certain passages in Melville’s later works speak to the special qualities of spontaneity, brusqueness, serendipity, and sudden intimacy that neighborliness provides. In breaking, sometimes violently, through the boundaries separating friends from lovers, mates from friends, neighborliness creates space for carnival liberation of sexual and emotional desire. In Israel Potter we see it most fully developed in Potter’s growing intimacy with John Paul Jones. Under ordinary circumstances these two men would never have met. One is a privateer working for the American revolutionaries; the other is caught up in the war, serving briefly and opportunistically as a courier for friends of Benjamin Franklin. They become neighbors in the boarding house of Franklin, who has disposed Potter under guard in a nearby room, and who then receives Jones as his guest. The relationship that evolves between the two men seems to owe more to their accidental proximity than to the ordinary routes of friendship. Because of the inopportune arrival of French nobles, Franklin throws his revolutionary associates, Israel Potter and John Paul Jones, together into the room next door. The scene that develops in Chapter 11, “Paul Jones in a Reverie”, shows the uncommon intimacy that accidental neighborhood provides. Much as with Ishmael and Queequeg at the Spouter Inn, Israel watches from the safety of his bed as Jones prowls like a “savage”, a “jaunty barbarian in broad- cloth” (Melville, 1989: 62-63) about the room. Fearing for Jones’s discomfort, Potter offers to share: “‘Why not sleep together’, said Israel, ‘see, it is a big bed. Or perhaps you don’t fancy your bedfellow, Captain?’”, Jones “coolly” replies that on an earlier voyage, “‘I had for a hammock-mate a full-blooded Congo’”, but after a joke about the man’s hair mingling with the wool of the blanket, he declares, “‘it’s not because I’m notional at all, but because I don’t care to, my lad’” (Melville, 1989: 61-62). Both men remain awake all night, Jones plotting destruction to English ships and Israel admiring Jones’s “mysterious tatooings” and “primeval savageness” (Melville, 1989: 62-63). In no way could the men be called friends, but their sudden proximity has made them intimate in unanticipated ways. In Israel Potter Melville uses the trope of neighborhood for ships as well as men and in ways that explore its subversive possibilities. After a number of adventures in which Potter is impressed into an English vessel and then, encountering Jones at sea, helps to deliver it to the American commander, Potter joins Jones’s crew and engages in the historic battle between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis. Melville describes the two ships, locked together in deadly combat, as feuding neighbors: “The two vessels were as two houses, through whose party-wall doors have been cut; one family (the Guelphs) occupying the whole lower story; another family (the Ghibelines) the whole Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 55 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 upper story” (Melville, 1982: 126). A similar metaphor appears in “Benito Cereno,” where Melville describes the Yankee sealer and South American slave ship as joined in an uneasy partnership: “To be brief, the two vessels, thanks to the pilot’s skill, ere long in neighbourly style lay anchored together” (Melville, 1987: 95). In neither case is the neighborhood essentially peaceful or friendly, the “neighbourly style” being one of open warfare in Israel Potter and in “Benito Cereno” something like the “slumbering volcano” (Melville, 1987: 68) that Delano perceives on board the San Dominick. But the adjoining ships serve as a compelling image of the unsuspected and even hostile relationships between neighbors, kept in their separate but adjacent dwellings; “both house and ship, the one by its walls and blinds, the other by its high bulwarks like ramparts, hoard from view their interiors till the last moment” (Melville, 1987: 50). Melville develops the notion of intimate yet potentially violent neighborhood in the extraordinary scene in which Israel Potter, cut off from his shipmates in a battle between Jones’s new ship, the Ariel, and a strange English vessel, desperately tries to find himself a safe haven among the English crew. His strategy depends upon the assumption of aggressive neighborliness in a number of different venues. At first he tries to pass himself off as a maintopman, taking his place among the sailors as if he were one of them. When they object, then “‘This is too bad, maties’ cried Israel, ‘to serve an old top-mate this way. Come, come, you are foolish. Give us a quid’. And, once more, with the utmost sociability, he addressed the sailor next to him”. Rejected from the maintop, he perseveres, knowing that “to escape final detection, Israel must some way get himself recognized as belonging to some one of these bands”. With considerable intrepidity he tries to work himself in among the sailors in the forecastle and other groups, but “with equal ill success. Jealous with the spirit of class, no social circle would receive him”, until he comes to rest among the waisters, the “vilest caste of an armed ship’s company; mere dregs and settlings—sea Pariahs”. Leading them in song, Israel urges them, “let’s be sociable. Spin us a yarn, one of ye. Meantime, rub my back for me, another’, and very confidently he leaned against his neighbor”. Even the men of this “peevish, sottish” band know that such cheer belongs elsewhere, and Israel continues his “endeavor to fraternize” wherever he can. As day dawns, the sailors and officers realize that a strange man has been trying to impose himself on every group on the ship: “‘He’s out of all reason; out of all men’s knowledge and memories! Why, no one knows him; no one has ever seen him before; no imagination, in the wildest flight of a morbid nightmare, has ever so much as dreamed of him’”. But Potter blithely gives a false name, and after a few more humorous exchanges with the officers, gets taken in to the maintop after all, where he wins the respect of the crew by his “general sociability” (Melville, 1982: 133-141). Potter’s aggressive neighborliness saves him where friendship could not, and his behavior shows precisely the kind of bluff persistence that Sarah Morewood Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 56 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 demonstrated in her relations with her guests and that Melville displayed with Hawthorne. Israel never makes friends with the English. To do so would be to betray his country. But in establishing a neighborhood with them he creates a secure place for himself. No intimacies emerge from these relationships such as those between Sarah Morewood and her neighbors or Melville and Hawthorne. Potter has his temporary closeness with John Paul Jones, who admires his courage and loyalty, but he is separated from him by the chance events of war and never sees him again. An isolato for his whole career, Potter dies alone, forgotten, like the “oldest oak on his native hills” (Melville, 1982: 169). Israel Potter’s experience of neighborhood is thus festive only to the degree that it saves him from death or rejection at the hands of his fellow beings. Melville offers a more explicitly carnival neighborhood in a perhaps unexpected location, the remote, barbaric islands of his set of sketches, “The Encantadas”. Being an archipelago, the Galapagos islands form by definition a neighborhood, and Melville somewhat casually speaks of sailors crossing from one isle to “the neighboring ones”, or of the fact that “Narborough and Albemarle are neighbors after a quite curious fashion”. More particularly in Sketch Sixth, “Barrington Isle and the Buccaneers,” he claims a certain distinction for Barrington Isle, as “so unlike its neighbors, that it would hardly seem of kin to them”. Yet of all the islands, Barrington Isle is most like a neighborhood, being the only one that provides home to a functioning community instead of the lonesome castaways and arrant rogues of Charles Isle (the Dog-King and his slaves), Norfolk Isle (Hunilla, the grieving widow), and Hood’s Isle (Oberlus the hermit). For Barrington Isle was “the resort of that famous wing of the West Indian buccaneers, which, upon their repulse from the Cuban waters, crossing the Isthmus of Darien, ravaged the Pacific side of the Spanish colonies”. Here they festively rest from their labors, “say their prayers, enjoy their free-and-easies, count their crackers from the cask, their doubloons from the keg, and measure their silks of Asia with long Toledos for their yard-sticks” (Melville, 1987: 140- 150). Melville’s buccaneers live a life of ease and pleasure, founded on violence to be sure but partaking of the refined enjoyments of civilized life. They have left behind not dwellings but “fine old ruins of what had once been symmetric lounges of stone and turf […] just such a sofa as the poet Gray might have loved to throw himself upon” (Melville, 1987: 145). The presence of these companionable seats leads the narrator to imagine a company of festive philosophers: Could it be possible, that they robbed and murdered one day, reveled the next, and rested themselves by turning meditative philosophers, rural poets, and seat-builders on the third? Not very improbable, after all. For consider the vacillations of a man. Still, strange as it may seem, I must also abide by the more charitable thought; namely, that among Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 57 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 these adventurers were some gentlemanly, companionable souls, capable of genuine tranquility and virtue. (Melville, 1987: 146) Such a combination of murderousness and gentlemanliness seems, in this description, the very height of neighborly urbanity. Melville indicates another aspect of the buccaneering community that makes it a carnivalesque, perhaps violent neighborhood —namely its lack of respect for or interest in property. His epigraphs to Sketch Sixth seem to uphold a view of limitless freedom, such as what Adam enjoyed in Paradise, but read in context they show rather a decided antipathy to civic virtues. The first two passages, from Edmund Spenser’s Mother Hubberds Tale, appear in the speech of the Ape advising his friend the Fox that they should not concern themselves with learning “some trade or skill”, or trying to “tie our selves for certeine yeares / To anie service, or to anie place” (Spenser, 1947: 110), for they plan to live in defiance of such constraints: Let vs all seruile base subiection scorne; And, as we bee sonnes of the world so wide, Let vs our fathers heritage diuide, And chalenge to our selues our portions dew Of all the patrimonie, which a few Now hold in hugger mugger in their hand […] Lords of the world; and so will wander free, Where so vs listeth, vncontrol’d of anie. (Spenser, 1947: 110-111) The Ape and Fox seem to share the Barrington Isle buccaneers’ spirit of revolt against property and vocation, but predictably they fail when they try to steal the Lion’s skin and rule in his stead; eventually the other animals rise up and dethrone the false conspirators. Spenser’s fable carries on in a moralizing strain missing in Sketch Sixth. Melville’s buccaneers seem romantic “sonnes of the world so wide”, “Lords” of themselves, roaming “Where so us listeth” in utter liberty. They seem to have won a carnival “heritage” that enables them to “wander free”, somewhat as Melville describes Hawthorne as doing when he compares him to “judicious, unencumbered travellers in Europe; they cross the frontiers into Eternity with nothing but a carpet-bag” (Melville, 1993: 186). Similarly the second epigraph, from Beaumont and Fletcher’s Wit Without Money, seems to speak to a similarly romantic form of license: “How bravely now we live, how jocund, how near the first inheritance, without fears, how free from little troubles!” (Melville, 1987: 144). The echo of Spenser’s “heritage” in Beaumont and Fletcher’s “first inheritance” underscores the idea of Adam’s inheritance of an Edenic world, one of complete freedom from care. Yet Valentine, the play’s protagonist, has chosen a life without financial responsibilities, and the original line reads “how free from title-troubles”, not Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 58 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 “little troubles”. Valentine has alienated his friends by refusing to keep up his estate, by spending all his money and borrowing from others, reneging on his obligations to family and community. Only the love of a wealthy heiress recalls him to his proprietary duties, and like the Ape and the Fox he is punished for his revolt against the duties of ownership. These epigraphs suggest that the carnival neighborhood of the Encantadas is no Paradise but a community at odds with civil society and perhaps deluded about its own assumptions of radical freedom. Like the nautical neighborhoods of “Benito Cereno” and Israel Potter it is violent and unstable as well. Such disturbing characterizations of Melville’s freebooting neighborhoods may cause us to look back at his carnival Berkshires as similarly conflicted and ambiguous. Does Melville’s neighborhood with the Morewoods and Hawthorne enable him to experience unbounded romantic freedom or, on second thought, does it threaten to undermine the foundations of civil society? Melville’s correspondence with Hawthorne has typically and perhaps idealistically been read as an expression of romantic and erotic longing for fulfillment, for the kind of transcendental friendship Emerson described. In one passage, for example, Melville thanks Hawthorne “for your easy-flowing long letter (received yesterday) which flowed through me, and refreshed all my meadows, as the Housatonic—opposite me—does in reality” (Melville, 1993: 199). In “Hawthorne and His Mosses” he claims that “Hawthorne has dropped germinous seeds into my soul. He expands and deepens down, the more I contemplate him; and further, and further, shoots his strong New-England roots into the hot soil of my Southern soul” (Melville, 1987: 250). The November 1851 letter describes a complete physical and spiritual surrender: “But I felt pantheistic then—your heart beat in my ribs and mine in yours, and both in God’s” (Melville, 1993: 212). Such passages seem to borrow their erotic intensity from Emerson’s supposed letter to a friend: “If I was sure of thee, sure of thy capacity, sure to match my mood with thine, I should never think again of trifles in relation to thy comings and goings. I am not very wise; my moods are quite attainable; […] and so thou art to me a delicious torment. Thine ever, or never” (Emerson, 1979: 117). Yet the extravagance of Melville’s rhetoric in his letters to Hawthorne also suggests a certain violence, like the “ferocious piratical revolt” (Melville, 1987: 99) of the slaves in “Benito Cereno”. And if we remove this violence from our picture of the Melville-Hawthorne relationship and ignore its implications, like those hapless souls in Hackluyt’s passage quoted in the “Etymology” of Moby- Dick, those who in writing “Whale” leave out “the letter H”, we may thereby “deliver that which is not true” (Melville, 1988: xv). In his November 1851 letter to Hawthorne, Melville says that, “when the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning” (Melville, 1993: 213). Bakhtin speaks of the violence of carnival humor. Along with a “utopian realm of community, freedom, equality, and abundance”, carnival times also release the “grotesque Lectora 20 (2014) (d) 59 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 realism” of the licentious body (Bakhtin, 1968: 9-18). Melville’s statement about the “concussion” between himself and Hawthorne seems to acknowledge the deeper complexity of their relationship and to suggest that the term “friendship” cannot include all its carnival dimensions. “Neighbor”, admittedly, does not fully do the trick either. But if we imagine the Melville-Hawthorne relationship not only as friendship or love affair gone awry but also as neighborliness exploring its subversive, even violent potential, then we may avoid the error of delivering that which is not true. We do not know in the end how Melville and Hawthorne thought about their relationship, do not even know that Melville and Hawthorne called themselves friends. In a letter written after Hawthorne’s death, Melville’s mother Maria claimed that, “Herman was much attached to him & will mourn his loss” (qtd. in Parker 2002: 576). Her somewhat ambiguous language leaves room for a term more nuanced than “friend” or even, as applied to Ishmael and Queequeg, “bosom friend” —but what? We do know that instead of signing his November 1851 letter to Hawthorne “H. Melville,” as Melville typically did for anyone outside his family, he wrote simply “Herman”. WORKS CITED Anderson, Benedict (2006), Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origins and Spread of Nationalism, London, Verso. Argersinger, Jana L. and Person, Leland S. (eds.) (2008), Hawthorne and Melville: Writing a Relationship, Athens and London, University of Georgia Press. Bakhtin, Mikhail (1968), Rabelais and His World, Helene Iswolsky (trans.), Cambridge, MA, MIT University Press. Bezanson, Walter (1991), “Historical Note”, Herman Melville, Clarel: A Poem and Pilgrimage in the Holy Land, Harrison Hayford, Hershel Parker and G. Thomas Tanselle (eds.), Evanston and Chicago, Northwestern University Press and the Newberry Library. Castiglia, Christopher (2008), “Alienated Affections: Hawthorne and Melville’s Trans-Intimate Relationship”, Hawthorne and Melville: Writing a Relationship, Jana L. Argersinger and Leland S. Person (eds.), Athens and London, University of Georgia Press: 321-344. Delbanco, Andrew (2005), Melville: His World and Work, New York, Knopf. Duberstein, Larry (1998), The Handsome Sailor: A Novel, Sag Harbor, NY, Permanent Press. Emerson, Ralph Waldo (1979), “Friendship”, The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Joseph Slater and Douglas Emory Wilson (eds.), Cambridge, MA, The Belknap Press of Harvard University: 113-127. [1841] Hayford, Harrison (1990), Melville’s Monody: Really for Hawthorne?, Evanston, Northwestern University Press. Melville’s Carnival Neighborhood Wyn Kelley 60 Lectora, 20 (2014): 47-60. ISSN: 1136-5781 D.O.I.: 10.1344/105.000002150 Kelley, Wyn (2008), “Hawthorne and Melville in the Shoals: ‘Agatha’, the Trials of Authorship, and the Dream of Collaboration”, Hawthorne and Melville: Writing a Relationship, Jana L. Argersinger and Leland S. Person (eds.), Athens and London, University of Georgia Press: 173-195. Mellow, James R. (1980), Nathaniel Hawthorne in His Times, Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press. 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